' vitty sayings, of nonsensical things. I told her of my intentions, and that ere long I would be far away, on the trackless billows of the re- lentless deep. She informed her companions of my resolve ; and they implored me to allow them to ac- company me. I listened to their importunities and it is needless to say they composed my retinue. "We procured a nice little yacht, "The White Swan," and renamed it Bawanaw ; and after painting it a bright crimson, we tore away its white sails, and replaced them with wine-colored ones. We then made up a cargo of such necessaries as we thought we needed, and on the 24th day of February A. D. 1872, j WALKED ALONG THE AVENUE WITH HER. 25 our little vessel sailed out to sea. The day was a beautiful one indeed. Fair day disclosing sceneries bright, From early dawn till night came on, Beaming upon my raptured sight But thou art gone! But thou art gone! "The southern sun swung upward and touched the gates of heaven. They stood ajar ; and I saw, or fancied that I did, the angels rush put to take our bearings. They hovered on the crest of a white cloud which drifted over us, as we cast about for our course. This found, they wafted us a long farewell and swept back to the gates of heaven. One of them lingered longer than the rest, and fixing an anxious look on me, she with her index finger pointed upward and vanished. I knew her well, and her memory haunts me till this day. Who can forget his mother ? "My companions now saw that I left the shore with much reluctance, in spite of my firm resolve, so they gave me a wine colored beverage, flavored with mint and lemons, sang songs and played stringed in- struments, they said, to quiet my nerves. All of which I did not hear ; for my heart was far away in the clouds, there near the gates of heaven, where I fear it will never be again. "We sailed on. The days grew into months, and the months into years ; but that first day has 26 never returned. Occasionally I thought I caught glimpses of it but it vanished. Still we sailed on, further and further away from the haven, on and on, we knew not where; till the s^a grew rough, the winds raged, and the storms ruled the deep. "Our yacht lost its rudder, its anchor, its sails and its masts. We now drifted in the relentless waste of ocean, a wreck. Then it was, when we were all but famished, we drew our coats from our backs and held them up to the elements for drink ; as we went drifting on and on, under the shadow of the wing of death, "It seemed impossible for us to sink ; for Da- biuchee by the mysterious cunning of the mariner kept us afloat, rottening on the surge of the awful deep ; but Minnie, poor soul, fearful of the waves that swept our hull jumped overboard and was lost. "You must not imagine we had all rough weather ; for there were some days upon which there fell over all the sea a dead calm, and others when there was just enough wind to make it easy sailing; it was on these days, that the stately ships of the world swept by us with their white sails all aswell with the propelling breeze ; and the great waves of the ocean breaking themselves on their sturdy prows. "You may be su*e I wanted to go with them ; but when I gave expressions lo this thought, my com- panions would taunt me, shake their heads, and say, 27 "Ah poor fellow! He is wandering, losing bis mind. He knows not those are phantom ships, on an imag- inary journey." And again they would drench me with the accursed beverage. "One day as we lay in one of those calms of which I told you, lamenting our loss of drink, I saw a dark wave spread out over the ocean lik a cloud. I soon found it to be smoke, rising from the stacks of one of those mighty ships from my native land. Presently a carrier pigeon dropped a scrap of paper in our wreck of a yacht. I sat gazing at the winged thing, which took a human form and lost itself in the distance. Then I turned me to the message. It waswritten in these characters: H. F. L,. I remembered them well ; long ago they were engraven on a gold ring which my mother gave me on my twenty-first birthday. They mean hope and faith. "That message was from my sister; for she alone knew of the whereabouts of the ring. I fan- cied that she had sent the ship to rescue me. It bore down upon us, nearer and nearer it came, till its buoy floated out within a few feet of us, then a large bird, as white as the driven snow, excep ing its wings, which were black as ebony, lighted on the buoy and turned its eyes full on me. I thought I saw written on its wings under a halo of gold Hope. This was enough, my rescuer had come, I leaped into the sea 28 and grasping the bird with one hand and the buoy with the other, I was sustained. The bird fluttered and the buoy dipped and floated, I clung on Just clung on and floated with them, O'er the endless trackless main, Till I heard iny national anthem, Breaking on my ears again. After many days the grand ol Steamer, Courage, for this was its name, cast its anchor in the port of Reformation. I went ashore and walked across the country to this place. Imagine my unspeakable sur- prise to find my old companions of the yacht here awaiting me. No sooner had I entered than De- bauchee began looking for the serpent of which he told you. He found it at last stuffed with his bible, and the guilty thing to escape ran down his throat." Here Debauchee grew indignant ; thrust in the stopper and the Flask stopped. The Voodoo's Jack. THE VOODOO'S JACK. ,AMBO has some queer ways ; and he is slow in his abandonment of old customs and ideas. I say this from personal knowledge derived from'close and intimate relation with him for forty years. Since I could remember, and, I am reliably informed for many years before, the man of mystery was the man of hon- or with him! that the vague, uncertain and enigmat- ical ccmmands-his attention. And now, that I am talking to you of a family secret, I am reminded of my brother Bill's misfortune. Perhaps you know my brother Bill, "Never saw him!" Then you will enjoy this little^story : When I was a boy corn husking, in the state of Georgia was an event; and we looked forward to it with delight. Many a time I have seen four or five hundred bushels of corn piled up before the old plan- tation crib- with a hundred or more men, big, black, noble sons of Ham, gathered around it singing plan- tation songs and shucking corn by the light of the 32 moon, or pine torches, while prim and tidy damsels were quilting in a cabin nearby, animated with the commendable rivalry of finishing the quilt before the corn was husked. Ah me! how my memory lingers around those departed pleasantries; chief among which was the wrestling match after the husking. Then we were not bothered with hair culture, powdered faces, complexion of skins, separate cars, political economy and college curriculums. No sir; they were no concern of ours, however we had rules and social customs among ourselves and our fes- tivities were, perhaps, unexcelled by any known to modern times. The cause of this, I suppose, was due to the long stretch of toil between the festive sea- sons. Our holidays came like a glass of water to those who cross the Sahara in caravans, or like a crust of bread to the s'rauded mariner whom the sea has cast ashore. I remember those long excursions we used to take from one plantation to another, in wagons drawn by cxen. We were as happy in Jhose as you would be in an excursion of Pullman ~palace~cars, drawn by the finest locomotive in the land; and, so far as brother Bill was concerned, the rules of a corn husking were the acme of civility. Glorious times those! I kinder liked them myself. But even here life had its reverses. Often we camped in the vale of sorrow, while our despised rival bivouacked in the 33 sunny orchards; where, the day before, Fancy pitch- ed our tents. Envying them their transitory fortune we often sought their ruin in underhanded ways and schemes that were mean. It was in one of these schemes brother Bill had a close call for his life. It happened in this way; on a farm belonging to Burk Devons, about five miles west of Jonesborough, Georgia, there was once a big corn huskiog; and the neighbors had come from far and near for an enjoy- able time. Conspicuous among whom were brother Bill and Nancy Jane Sweetsom. Brother Bill was carriage driver for a rich old farmer who lived hear, by the name of Sherrod Gay; ar.d Nancy Jane Sweetsom was house girl for another old farmer not far away. She was a beautiful octa- roon, of agreeable and pleasing ways and engaging manners; and Bill was ebon hued but handsome, standing six feet three inches in his socks. He was an imposing figure when dressed iu his fine clothes of home-made jeans, and basking in the sun- shine of Nancy Jane Sweetsom's smiles. On this particular occasion Bill and Ben Buster were selected captains of the husking; and, as was usual, a line was drawn taut across the center of the corn pile and the number of men divided equally, one-half of them going with Bill and the other going with Buster. The husking began, each side striving to shuck 34 their half of the corn before the other. Immediately after the husking the captains were to wrestle; and the one that threw the other, the " best two out of three, " was to have the exclusive company of the prettiest girl at the husking that night. The husking was but the work of an hour, and then the wrestling came and held the crowd spell- bound and speechless until expression broke into ap- plause for the victor. Now, Buster was as much in love with Nancy Jane Sweetsom as Bill. And she, true to the proclivities of her sex, encouraged them both. They were masters of the wrestling art. Buster was not as large as my brotner and not near so tall, but he had broad, massive shoulders which were a little round and gave him the appearance of stoop- ing as he moved about. He was five feet five inches high, weighed one hundred and ninety pounds, and was something of a giant himself. You may be sure the battle was a royal one; for more than an hour they tugged away at each other; but Buster being lower than my brother, brought his mighty shoulders into play, and won. Then Bill, humiliated and sad, skulked away to and adjoining farm. There he met uncle Jery Wiser and told him his tale of woe. Now, uncle Jerry was the man of mystery in that community; or in planta- tion parlance, a conjurer, and to him brother prayed 35 expectingly for relief; and the old gentleman promis- ed him all he prayed for. What is it tne man of mystery will not promise ? There is not an ill the body is heir to he cannot cure; and in the affairs of the heart, his jack is all powerful. It would not only protect him from the designs of evil men, but it would enable him to go unharmed among the most ferocious animals, and to hold in his hands the most poisonous serpents or reptiles. These were the gen- eral powers of the jack; but when made to order, he usually added any special powers his patrons might desire. Bill wanted a jack, of course. A master one, with all the general powers and a number of special- ties. To secure these he had to take the man of mys- tery the following ingredients, to-wit: " A lock of hair from the north side of Buster's head. " A piece of nail off the east side of his little toe. " A piece of nail off the west side of his great toe. All died in the blood drawn from the left side of Buster." For a long time I was curious to know how Bill ever found these pirts of Bus f er's person; but lately I have been told by the authority of mystification in these diggings, " Dinah, the sauceress," that all Bill had to do was to catch Buster prone upon the earth with his head toward the north, and the cardinal points of his person would appear. 36 At last Bill turned up at uncle Jerry's with the required ingredients, and wis soon invested with his JACK. Thus equipped the man of mystery told him to catch a black snake, skin it alive, tie the hide around his body, and he would be thereby enabled to fling any body in "ole Georgy dat didn't have a longer hide uv a similur snake den hizself ." Of couse uncle Jerry thought Bill would never catch the snake and thus he would have an excuse for the nonper- formance of his jack. Jack in hand, Bill began at once to look for his snake, and with a singleness of purpose that was commendable, he never lost an opportunity of look- ing into brier patches and out of the way places, in short, every where fancy suggested a black snake might be found. At last on a sultry summer even- ing he met with unusual success with his search. It was June i, 1870. They had passed out of Jonesborough, over Flint river, up the big hill that forms its western bank, and were jogging along the dusty highway, when suddenly Mr. St. Clair met them in a bend of the road, and bantered Mr. Gay, Bill's boss, for a horse trade. While the two men were discussing the points of interest in their horses, Bill got down from his seat in the buggy and began to eat a few of the black-berries, that were bursting of sweetness in a patch near the road. While thus 37 engaged, the cracker of the whip he carried got fasten- ed to a big brass button of his coat. The bargain was struck between the two farmers and they drove off down the road to Mr. St. Clair's. Mr. Gay, appreciating Bill's weakness for the fruit of the brier, said to him, " Bill, I will drive on and wait for you at Mr. St. Clair's. Help yourself to the berries," "Thank ye, Boss, I's sure gwin ter do dat." Presently the two men passed from view and left Bill to his feast. He was now pretty full and stopped to wipe the perspiration from his face, when to his great delight, there lay before him the object of his long search, the snake, in a persimmon bush just a few feet away, charming a blue bird. Relying on his faithful jack, he began at once to approach the snake, and the snake intent on catching the bird, paid little attention to him. The snake, however, was one of those combative kind known am mg us Negroes, as " De coach whip." A long, keen, blue black fellow that ties himself around your ankles and whips you to death. Bill was after that snake and the snake was after its prey ; and, just as he lunged for it, the snake leaped for the bird, missed it and fell, to use Bill's words, "curwollop between his feet." There was surprise in the brier patch and a hasty getting away. The bird flew to a neighboring tree 38 and warbled a song of joy ; the snake did as all wise seipants do. Bill ran for dear life and somehow found his way to the public road, and was limbering along leisurely when he looked back and saw the whip dangling behind, and mistook it for the snake. Then it was he reached up and got his hat, and leveled down to it. My! what a race. The whip, flying up and striking him occasionally behind, gave him energy and he flew. Crazed, he ran into Mr. St. Clair's drawing-room yelling, " Snake! snake! snake! Take it off ! Take it off !" and fell sprawling to the floor. Then Mr. Gay stooped down and untied the cracker of the whip, and Bill realized what had hap- pened ; but he swears the snake was after him. A Mad Man's Love Affairs. A MAD MAN'S LOVE AFFAIRS. I IN the 3ist day of December, A. D. 1880, there ^^ was organized, in the little town of Elm wood, " The Story Tellers' Circle." This association was a rare and unique thing, with the pleasure of its mem- bers as its only object. It had a few simple rules, which were rigidly enforced. So congenial were its members, however, that they bore the penalty of broken laws without a protest. I remember one rule that was invariably broken, by most of us. That rule required one of us to com- mence, on the evening of December 3ist, and tell an original story ; and to tell it so well that none of us should fall asleep during its narration. The story was to close at midnight. Upon its conclusion there was always spread a supper, for which the story-teller had to pay should he fail to keep us awake. Each of us had paid the forfeit of a dull story. I should have said, all of us had failed but Bill Sim- mons, for the lot had never fell upon him. December 42 31, 1895, marked the close of an unusually joyous Christmas tide. We were in the club-room and the roll was being calkd, to which all of us answered promptly, " Here." After this the lot was cast, and it fell on Bill Sim- mons. He was by no means a talkative man, and there was not a scintilla of humor in his nature. No one expected a story of him, and so we prepared to make merry at his expense. Hence, we fell to dis- cussing the bill of fare, and, after a half dczen points of order and as many ballots, we succeeded in making this selec.ion : Seven loaves of bread, ten dozen oysters, ten broiled quail, salt, pepper and pickles, and a few other little necessaries, such as wine, whiskey atd cigars. Of these we ordered twelve quarts of wine, three gallons of old Bourbon and a hundred cigars. The reason for this is obvious ; we wanted to possess our spirits with diligence. There were ten of us, and, with the exception of Bill Sim- mons, a merrier ten never entered a club-room. At 8 o'clock the gavel fell, and the president said: " Gentlemen, you will please come to order. What is your pleasure to-night?" " Regular order," was the demand. Again the gavel fell, and Mr. Simmons was ordered to deliver his story. He took his seat on the grand-stand, and we held our breath, while the comical obliquity of our features betrayed our feelings. 43 Said he: " Mr. President and brethren, for the want of a better story, I present to you a Mad Man's IvOve Affairs. You all remember my old friend, George Dobey ? He was a singular character; and his career was eventful. A few days ago I passed his tomb and found written thereon: "Here lies George Dobey, the story teller, who never but once designedly told the truth." To see the good name of my friend so foully besmirched vexed me, and I then and there determined to give the world his true biography. Having so decided, I began at once to look for the incidents of interest in bis life, and after a long and vexatious search I was able to find nothing authentic but the marble slab at his grave, and its strange in- scription. Too true it is that our lives are as transi- tory as the fall of snow flakes, and that memory's tablets are broken while they are being formed. Nevertheless, I was resolute, and with the aid of my memory began my self imposed task by writing in bold letters on a sheet of Fools' cap paper "George Dobey." To save my life I cound not think of an- other word. " Your Fancy !" cried many of us. " I have none," said Simmons. I can deal only in cold facts and truth; and it you will listen, these you shall hear. 44 In the midst of my dilemma, I heard a gnawing in a corner of the room, and walking over to whence it came, I kicked an old valice, when out there ran a mouse and dropped a scrap of paper. I looked at it and saw written thereon, "George Dobey." I opened the valise and found a bundle of old papers labeled, " Facts about George Dobey;" eagerly I be- gan to investigate its contents. The first thing I found was a letter addressed to my brother Joe. I held it up to the light and read the post mark. The ragged edge of the envelope told how eagerly it had been opened. With no less anxiety, I drew out the letter and read what follows: No. 17 Ivory Street; \ ATLANTA, GA., J May loth, 1890. MR. JOE. SIMMONS, Stoneville, Miss. DEAR FRIEND: To-day while on my return to Atlanta, I met with a sad but thrilling incident. Just as I turned into tte high road which passes through East Point to At- lanta, I saw a run-a-way horse hitched to a buggy, in which a woman sat holding on bravely to the reins, in the vain effort to stop the frantic animal, which came on at a frightful speed. 45 In less time than it takes to tell it, the buggy was thrown against a tree and one of its wheels knocked off. Then she became frightened and in her terror, grabbed the dash-boa'rd. By this time I had gotten out of my buggy and was trying to stop the mad horse. He turned abruptly to the left, and the front part of the vehicle struck a stump and was broken from its shafts. The woman was thrown to the earth, her left wrist being dislocated and her right side severely bruised. The horse ran a few paces further and stopped of its own accord. About this time a man came to my assistance. We lifted the lady into my buggy, and he took charge of the horse. I then drove off toward East Point. About a mile down the road, whence came the horse, we came across a man, by the wayside, ap- parently insane. The lady told me he was her affi- anced friend, that he was with her when the horse ran away from him; and at that time he was pefectly sane. I managed to get them back to East Point, where a physician was called in and they are now being cared for. The lady will recover but the man/never. Believe me, these unfortunate people are none other than George Dobey and the woman you were to have married seventeen months ago. Sincerely I am yours, TOM SMITH. 4 6 I was now in the middle of a mad man's love affairs, and I determined to know all. To this end I examined minutely every paper in that valise. There were a great many, but I shall call attention to only a few of them here. There was a letter from a lady, in answer to one from Joe, which, excepting the head- ing, read as follows : "DEAR FRIEND Your letter calls up the ioys of long ago. When there is no hope of a better to-mor- row, how readily we turn from the adversities of to-day to the felicities of yesterday ; and ware it not for the bitter fate that foiled our hop?, the recollections of a day that is gone would be a j y forever. " Btlieve me, there has not been a day since our betrothal in which my heart has not been wholly yours, unalterably so ; and jet I fear I am so envir- oned as to make it impossible for me to grant your request. The morning after that awful night I went to Vicksburg to be with you in your illness. I found you uncon'cious, and the doctors and Mr. Dobey insisted on my returning to Stoneville, which I did that night. " Toe next day Mr. Dabey handed me the Daily Item, a paper published in Vicksburg, in which was written this announcement: 'Mr. Joe Simmons, of Stoneville, Miss., died last night at the City Hospital. His death marks the close of a bright, joyous and exemplary life. A. host of friends mourn his loss, 47 and we sympathetically join them in their bereave- ment. He will be buried this morning at n o'clock, from St. Andrew's church.' " Life was now a burden, and I had no desire to bear it at Stoneville ; so the day after the cruel pub- lication I found myself fleeing from the scenes of my sorrows in a widow's garb, and in due course of travel I arrived here and took up my abode with my aunt. Some time after I arrived at my aunt's, Mr. Dobey became a suitor for my favor, and I, thinking you were dead, gave my consent ; but before the day fixed for the wedding he became insane, and has since been in an asylum. He is much better now, and the doctors say that if they could restore his memory of persons, they should pronounce him well. He fan- cies that he has killed a man, and, strange to say, his dead man is yourself. "He has lucid intervals, however, and since hearing from you I have been thinking of securing a release. I would like to have you go with me ; may be your presence would revive his memory and put him on the road to speedy recovery. Will you go? " Hoping you will accommodate me, I beg leave to subscribe myself, "Yours faithfully, " ELLEN GLENN." Of course, Joe went to see her. They met in Atlanta, and went directly to the asylum. There 4 8 they learned that Dobey was much better and recov- ering rapidly. The physicians said : "We have been thinking of taking him over the old scene with Miss Glenn, in the hope of restoring his memory of her. We hopa Miss Glenn will consent to this?" "Certainly," said Ellen, and the doctors began to discuss their plans with her. While they weie thus engaged Joe went up to see Dobey. He found him reading an old manuscript, which he had written during his better days. He was then seemingly sane. He received Joe in the most cordial manner, and they were soon engaged in a pleasant conversation, which lasted quite a while. Presently, howtver, Joe rose to leave, and Dobey, rising nlso, caught him socially by the lappel of the coat and said : " During my little talk I have learned to like you. You resemble some one I knew years ago, but I just can't remember." Joe wis silent, and he kept on, as if talking to himself : " You a-r-e, 're, 're I can't recollect. I guess I don't know you, but I like you and would intrust to you my treasure." Joe j-uppre^sed his surprise with a smile, as Dobey began wrapping the treasure in an ancient newspaper. After which he held it out to him, saying as he did so :" " You will bring it back to me occasionally?" "Certainly," said Joe, pi icing it in his inner pocket. Then Dobey raised his head and their eyes 49 met, but he knew not his rival. They shook hands and parted. Joe returned to the office and found the plans all arranged for the trip, which were the reproduction of some of the scenes through which Dobey and Ellen had passed on May roth, 1890, the time fixed for which was the next day. Ellen, refusing every attempt of Joe's to renew their former relations, till after the trip, returned to her Aunt's andjjoe to his ho'el. After supper Joe went to his room and began to inspect Dobey's treasure, which was simply a diary giving in detail every incident of his life, from his majority down to May zoth. 1890. Reread along carelessly till his eyes fell on the date, Decembs 3ist, 1889, and curiously through the remainder of the diary, of which the following is an extract:" 1 *'It was December 3ist, 1889. The wi^d was soughing through the electric wires overhead, and occasional flakes of snow fluttered down from the clouds which hung above, as if they were the mantles of the storm waiting to be shook by the Monarch of the elements. " Such was nature's sombreness on that eventful night; I was in Vicksburg, standing in the doorway of one of its mammoth piles of architectural beautv, amusing myself with the faces that passed and the stories they told unawares. 50 " In the midst of my amusement I looked up, and who should I see but Joe Simmons, Bill Prior and Tom Smith. They gave me a friendly shake of the hand and passed into the edifice where I was standing, which I then found to be a saloon, behind the gaudy screens of which I heard the click of the glasses and saw the smooth and oily liquor moving and sparkling therein. " That you may not think me one of those litee fellows, who take their wine in secret, and display their degredation from the open door of the gutter, I make this confession : I went into the saloon and sat- isfied my convivial propensities by partaking of the hospitalities of those among whom I found myself. " After the drinks, Tom took me aside and gave me a little sketch of the social world. Said be: ' Joe is a groom; I am his best man, and to-morrow is the day of the nuptials.' At which I, arching mv brows and twisting my mustache, said: 'Ah, indeed ! Surely a man might well be jovial on his wedding day, set; and turning to the bar-tender, I ordered wine, whiskey and cigars. While these were being prepared, I asked Tom who the prospective bride might be. He pu-h^d back his coatsleeve and wrote on his cuff the initials, 'E G., of Stoneville.' My what a revelation! It was to this woman my he^rt hid surrendered its soul. Unknown to her, it is trui, but noae th>; less so, I loved her, and the consuming fire of that passion now went darting through my being like an electric bolt. "I stood there a moment in suspense, stirring iny wine and imploring the devil to give me a device to foil the wedding, which he did instantly. This was the place, the time, and the means were at my command. I took advantage of them, and held the flask to their lips till a late hour. " I knew they were to leave for Stoneville on the late train, so at n o'clock I left them carousing in the saloon and went to my room. Here I disguised myself, and, an hour later left for the station a typical Southern Negro of ante-bellum times, with a faded umbrella stretched between me and the inclem- ent weather, and a 1 * dilapidated carpet-bag swinging from my left hand. "Thus attired, I arrived at the station within a few minutes of train time. Pretty soon my friends came, and Tom called out: " * Tickets for three to Stoneville." " Then I shied up to the window and said: " ' Boss, gimme er ticket ter de same place, please, sah.' " ' Well, old man, where is that ?" said the agent. " ' It am de same place dese gents am gwine, sah.' ' He then threw down the ticket and I handed him the change. By this time the train came steaming in we got aboard, and were soon flying towards the north. 52 But I am ahead of my story; for while we ware boarding the cars, I slipped my hani into Joe's pocket and filched his ticket. Why I dis^uis^d myself, and why I stole the ticket, I know not, unless it be that the hand of the Spirit of darkness, leads his vo- taries as deter cnidly as does that " Divinity which shapes our ends." Tom and Bill passe i into tha ladies ca r , Joe into the smoker, and I followed him. Presently th- c in- ductor entered and began to take up tickets He reached me first and said in a playful wiy: "Well old man, whar am yer gwine ?" Hadding him mv ticket, I said: " Dat tells de tale." H-tookita,,d passed on to Joe, and said: "Tickets." Joa felt in his v st pocket for his ticket, but it was not there; then hurriedly he felt for it in the other pockets of his apparel, but found it not. I sat puffing away at my "corncob" pipe contentedly, and enjoying the con- fusion of my rival. The conductor said: " Take your time, sir, and find your ticket by the tim apparently. The barber directed him to a seat, by a wave of his hand, tied the bag to a leg of the barber chair, and began to make a lather. This done he honed his razor on a brick, in the jam of the chim- ney. He now untied the bag and drew out of it an opossum, lathered and began to shave it to the great 77 annoyance of Clemmings, and, because of which he cursed, raged and stormed at the barber, then ca- joled, fondled and persuaded him alternately, but to no purpose. The barber simply looked at him and said: "No useSah, dis varmintan' happiness is dejsame wid me." He had now shaved off a place at the root of the opossum's tale about the size of a silver dollar. Which place he split open with his razor, and took therefrom a beautiful and dazzling diamond, about the size of the first phalanx of a man's thumb. Dazed at the lustre of the jewel, he leaned forward with his mouth opened, speechless of surprise, as the barber took the opossum to the door and let it go. Instantly he returned, and Clemmings, having regained his self-control, asked him to explain his actions. The baiber said: "I's ready ter shave yer now, but ef yer rather, I'll 'cite de story uv de pos- sum wid de jewel in his tail." Clemmings preferred the story and he began his narration, which, stripped of its brogue, is as follows: "At Richmond, when the Confederate idol, a government whose fundamental principles were States Rights and slavery, was crumbling and its cab- inet being dismembered, an officer high in the government of its affairs, while passing from the capitol building, dropped this diamond and I picked it up. I would have given it to him at the time, had 78 not an incident beyond my control prevented. "Instantly upon dropping it a courier from the Camp of lyee met him and they held a hurried con- versation, in the midst of which, I heard him, who had dropped the jewel exclaim," PETERSBURG! RE- TREAT!" Before I could speak to him, he and the courier passed into the president's private chambers and I was left alone. Oppressively so, for somehow I felt the hand of Fate was upon me. There was a lull in the deep and sullen roll of artillery to the south of us ; the day was waning, and the sun, like a blood shot eye in a gloomy face, went out. Then there were the breaking of fond ties, bereavements, the despair of strong men, the wailing of women, the hurrying to and fro in the doomed city by the pop- ulace, and the extinguishing of camp fires, as the last retreat of that valiant and most skillfully governed army, known in the annals of war began, and Hope skulked from the Confederate capital, weeping over the "Lost Cause." "In the midst of the confusion, I returned to the quarters of him who had lost the jewel, and whose fortunes I had followed since the days of 'Bull Run.' He was my master and friend. I met him in the way and he directed me to take charge of his belongings and follow him. I bundled them together and then looked after my own, which were this razor and strop, my fc clothing and a pet opossum. 79 " The clothing was very dear to me, because it was the gift of my master. But my chief concern was about the jewel. Perhaps you would not have done as I did with it ; but the most of us, in sudden danger, great calamities, and unexpected occurences often do the most nonsensical things, and I, to hide the diamond from the invaders, as well as from the pilferers of our own camp, split open the skin at the root of the opossum's tail, pushed in the diamond and sewed up the place. I then put it into a bag, threw the bag across my shoulder and joined the other Negro servants in the rear of the retreating army, which went to pieces, a few days later, at Appomattox in glorious defeat. "After our reverses at Appomattox, I sought my master among the living and the dead, but found him not ; so I put him down as missing and started for my home in Fulton county, Georgia. For weeks I tramped along the dusty road with that opossum on my back in a bag. On my way south, I passed many a camping ground and gory field, where, but yesterday, the bonny blue flag floated the gay and magical emblem of southern hope, and where the roll of artillery and the rattle of musketry, were but the music of a war dance; and now those battle fields are but waste and barren places where the chirp of a cricket makes one start, and where the memory^of 8o many a maimed musketeer lingers over the legendary glory of the grandeur of war. And there I would sometimes linger, and with such reflection as I was capable of, think of the nothingness of glory and the de- ception of fame ; for what advantage has the re- nown of the warrior ovei the obscurity of the swain ? After all, the heights of eminence are lost in mist, and the band that has grown crimson in crushing human hearts, cannot resist the worm that assails it in the grave, and a generation hence, the descend- ants of the victorious armies, yielding to the elo- quence of those of the vanished, will (for a jest and a smile) surrender all for which their wise men con- tended, and that which it took the lives of a million men to purchase, to say nothing of the arson, pillage and murder that ruined the homes of the non-com batants. Thus, I would ponder till mistress and her orphans, Dinah and the children went trooping through my humble brain. What other hand than mine was to support them in their bereavement? This thought would strengthen me, and again I would hurry homeward. " One evening, when I was about three miles away, I came to a cool spring by the road. There I stopped for refreshment and rest. My! what an influ- ence the scenery of one's early home has on him in after life. When, old and decrepid, he passes some 8i familiar spot where memory lingers, he renews old associations in dreams of what has been. I had no sooner drunk of the spring and tntbed my face in the tranquil waters than all the old life came back to me ; for it was at this spring I first met Dinah, and there it was our spirits wed. Busy with my recol- lections, I was filled with an inexpressible desire to see her ; and, forgetting all things else, I rose and pressed forward. I had not gone far before, to my great sorrow, I discovered I had forgotten the opossum. Hurriedly I went back to the spring for it. The false thing had gone, where I knew not. Search for it was useless, so I resumed my journey. Returning, I had time for reflection, and my mind naturally turned to the jewel. Its value was sufficient to excite, even in mv simply mind, mercenary considerations; but I had other motives for keeping it. My master had often told me that it was a talisman that protected the life of the man who kept it about his person ; and, when imperilled, all the keep-r of it had to do was to say, "Diamonds for life," and he was secure. I confess I desired to keep it because of the value superstition gave it rather than anything else. In the midst of my thoughts of the lost jewel, I arrived at the old homestead. It was not what it was when we, master and I, left it four years ago. The fences were all down, the fields laid waste, thistles grew in the gar- 82 dens, and where the mansion stood there was a pile of ashes and a naked chimney, that ttood a towering ruin in the midst of desolation. I went to the cabin where I had left Dinah and the children. They were gone ; all gone ! I hung my head of grief ; poor, naked, despised, bereaved and alone in the world, what charms had freedom for me ! I turned to go away, and a hand touched me on the shoulder. I looked around and beheld him who had been my master, haggard, worn and broken, staggering under the rod of the Conqueror. His head was still up, however, and he tried to hide his emotion, but could not, and holding out his hands to me he stammered : " I have lost the JEWEL, !" fell upon my shoulder and wept like a child. I made an attempt at condolence, but when I thought of mistress, Dinah and the children, and that they were gone from the old home forever, I too broke down and wept aloud. After our first wild burst of grief was over we turned silently away and walked across the waste until we came to the old family burying ground, where, from among the weeds, a marble shaft rose, cold and gray in the dreary night, upon which the moon broke its beams and the shadows of occasional clouds fell like funeral palls. Here my companion fell to his knees and read the inscription written there. I asked him what it was, and in broken tones he said : " Sacred to the memory of our kindred, friends and hope !" Again I looked for some reminder of Dinah. Not even a wooden slab was there, to mark her scjourn in the hamlet of the dead. About this time we heard distant thunder, and, looking off toward the southwest, we saw a dark cloud stretched across the horizon, and along its tow- ering thunder-head the livid lightning ran. We hastened away in search of a place of safety, and, in crossing the field, we found an opossum in a persim- mon bush. I bent the bush and pulled him down. Renewing our pace and running briskly, we soon reached the public road and came abruptly on a crowd of horsemen. With presented arms they cried: "Halt!" We threw up our hands, and I, holding on to the tail of the opossum the while, cried out uncon- sciously, " Diamonds for life !" Instantly there was a report of fire arms, and old master fell dead in the road. Our assailants were three Federal soldiers, two yankees and a Negro. They accused old master of being a Ku-Klux, and me of aiding and abetting his escape. They then demanded of me the diamonds, and I answered evasively, "O pshaw ! yer knows I meant de 'possum " The Negro totk the 'possum and commanded me to get up behind him, 8 4 as he mounted his mule. I did so, and they rode off rapidly with me and the opossum to Atlanta, and arrived here about 2 o'clock this morning. The Yankeeys rode en to the barracks, and the Negro hid the opossum under a tub and went into a hut near by, and I took the opossum (which, to my infinite delight, proved to be my pet one,) and hurried off with it; and for fear that the Negro soldier might come around looking for it, I was in a hurry to take the jewel from its tale." By this time the barber had honed and stropped his razor, and, turning to Cletnmings, gave him a clean shave. After the shave Clemmings invited him around to his wedding. They were both happy one in the possession of his jewel and the other in the ecstacy of reciprocated affection. Thus elated, they walked along the street together. Forgetting the past and anticipating the future, they might well be said to be living in the airy mansions of Fancy's building. Presently they came to the house where Julia was. Clemmings tapped lightly on the door and she opened it rather, the door seemed to have swung back automatically to admit him and she, leaning on the arms of the preacher, welcomed his coming. Tidy and buxom, she looked what she really was, the pic- ture of health, in chignon hair and Dolly Varden skirts. 85 Clemmings could not resist the temptation ; he caught .her by the hand, pulled her to him and kissed her. He then stepped to her side and the preacher adjusted his spectacles. Then it was Julia looked up and caught a full view of the barber, and exclaimed : "De Lord, bless my soul ! Jim, is dat yer?" and leaped into his arms with a bound. The barber cried, " Dinah, my wife !" It was all over with Glemmings ; but he managed to stammer : " I thought yer wuz Jule ?" " Namp, dis am Dinah," said Julia. Of course, you understand the jewel to be a link from the imaginary chain which Lincoln shattered when he signed the Emancipation Proclamation. He Forgot His Head. HE FORGOT His HEAD. /\ BE had been paying court to Miss Nancy for ** some time; or rather he had been trying to gain her favor, and had so far succeeded that the pub- lic believed it was a mutual affair ; for it was quietly whispered among the "Upper Tens:" "Dat oP Abe's gwine ter marry de parson's gal." Of course Miss Nancy told no one of her thoughts on the subject ; and the only mention Abe ever made of it was that made by him over his cups in the "Mandolin Club Rooms," a resort of shady reputa- tion, in Sportsman's Alley, where the colored gentle- men of leisure spend their afternoons at pool, rogue et noir, seven-up and dice or craps. At this particular moment, however, there was a stay in the general business of the establishment, and the gentlemen were standing around befogging the place with cigarette smoke and discussing the charac- teristics of the beautiful women of the city. Abe was a merciless individual and cared no more for beautiful young ladies than he did for the 89 90 hags of Sportsman's Alley. He assumed the role of a cold, matter-of-fact kind of a fellow ; boasted of his celibacy and poked fun at the young men of the club who defended the good name of the women of the upper circle of Fair View society. Throwing his half smoked cigarette aside, cocking his hat on the back of his wooly pate and pretending to be utterly dis- gusted, he said : "I 's got no patience wid de chap dat suffers hisse'f ter be pinned to er woman's Easter bonnet. He dos n't come up to de dignaty uv my contemp.' " "Dat 'pends on who de angel is dat wears de bonnet," said Felix McGraw as he walked up to the ta- ble where Abe was, just as he was throwing all wom- en kind off his mind, with a snap of his thumb and finger. Continuing Felix said: "I'll bet my plug hat dat yer could not hold yer own wid Miss Nancy Summers er week." "Ha, ha, ha! who is dat parson's gal Nan? Yer jist watch me one uv dese Easter mornings. I'll have dat gal at my feet yet, an' when I gits her dar I wants all uv yer ter see how I's gwine ter spurn her" So saying he stuck his thumbs through the armlets of his waist coat, threw his shoulders back and strut- ted about the floors of the club room with a self im- portant air that was really provoking. 91 And so it happened on an Easter morning, two years ago Abe, arrayed in his best clothing, his shoes smiling under a patent leather polish and his hands toying with a brazen headed walking cane, made his appearance at Foley Chapel, a church of the African Methodist connection that is making rapid advance- ment in the ethics of higher religious thought, and took his seat in a prominent place near the aisle. The service began with singing, as usual; which was so rare and entertaining that I forgot to note the preacher's text; but I remember the theme of it. It was the same old story. The one that ever excites in me the keenest interest and the profoundest re- spect. The suffering, the death, and the resurrection of our L,ord and Master, Jesus Christ. I have heard the subject over and over again;and I am free to tell you that I looked for nothing new on this occasion. This is why, perhaps; I did not hear the reading of the text instead of the singing. The preacher had not said more than half .a dozen words, however, before I saw that a master was in the pulpit and that he was making the journey from Bethlehem to Olivet appear in a new light to me. His discourse was a conversational one; and he, appreciating the grandeur of his subject, and feeling the inspiration of the "Holy Spirit" led us along the the old familiar paths by the manger, out of Egypt in to Nazareth, through Galilee and Judea, stopping oc- 92 casionally to point out the places of interest to us as we passed. I remember distinctly, as we passed down the western hills and across the valley of the Jordan, he pointed out the Master talking pleasantly to the people as they made their way to the wilder- ness; or, returning, told him wonderful things of the man who clothed himself with camels' hair, preach- ed repentance of sin, and baptized them in the river Jordan, They spoke to Him in that persuasive way, which meant that He should hurry on and secure the bless- ings of the wonderful baptist while it was yet day, un- mindful of the fact that He and not John was the Master. Persuing his theme he brought us to the scene of sacred memory, where Christ stood in the midst of the river with the multitude about Him, while John, lifting his voice from the placid waters, cried aloud, "Behold the Lamb of God which taketh away the sins of the world!" and God declared from the heav- ens, "This is My beloved Son in whom I am well pleased." After this he led us down through the treacher- ous jungles in the wilderness of sin where the Son of Man was tempted by the Prince of Night, thence up to the pinnacle of the temple, and on to the mountain top, thence down again through the fertile fields of dear old Galilee and Capernaum, thence by the shores 93 of the beautiful sea, and on and on through the val- ley of the shadow of death, where Christ made his pilgrimage, dispensing mercy, forgiving sins and re- deeming a cursed world. It was indeed a wonderful sermon. I shall never forget it. It pursues me like a Nemesis through all the meanderings of my sinful career, and seems to ac- cuse me of the crucifixion. Especially so, when I remember the little scene he pointed out to us in Bethany, where the craven, fallen spirit of covetous man sought to appropriate to his own use the essence of an alabaster box, and, failing in this, bartered his friend, his brother, his Master and the salvation of us all for a few pieces of silver. Climbing" up to a premature climax, he told us all about that ungrateful Judas, who, forgetting the loving kindness of the Master, denied him the privacy of his three friends. Then, pausing in his discourse a moment, he said, "My brethren, you will excuse me a moment while I digress a little to indulge in a few personal remarks about this Iscariot; " and fixing his eyes on Abe with so much certainty that the eyes cf the congregation were focused on him also, he ex- claimed : "Now, my brethren, behold the wolf in sheep's clothing, and beware of the man who sops his hand in the dish with you. It was at this point that a big, old brother up in 94 the amen corner cried out: "Tell it, brudder, tell it!" This seemed a signal for applause, or rather, as Aunt Rachel says, "Er witnessin* uv de Spearet; " for Sister Lucy began to reel and rock in her seat like a robin on the bow of an apple tree and to cry out, "Glory ter God in de highest; glory, glory, glory!" Then a few of the older ladies, forgetting their rheumatism, ran up and down the open space near the pulpit, exclaiming the while : "They perse- cu'ed our Lord!" It was here that the preacher lifted his voice above the noise of the congregation and stormed away ; and some of the more lusty ones of the crowd yelled back at him: "Preach, elder, preach!" The commotion grew. Men, women and chil- dren rushed into the aisles and about the church, shaking hands and overturning benches. The ser- vice was now anything but pious a riot pure and simple. It was evident that the preacher's theme had gotten the better of him, and, like a runaway horse, was at large; and he, getting tangled up with the high priest, the thirty pieces of silver and crown of thorns, roamed about the valley of Gethsemane. Because of the pressure, Abe was crowded off by the door, and I sought refuge behind an overturned bench; and, with the exception of a sprained ankle and a crushed bunion, ascaped unhurt. It was impossible for the sermon to survive this 95 outburst of passion; so the preacher let us down by calling on Brother John to pray, and he opened up with an echo that made the welkin ring. After this, the service drifted along in the usual way, near the end of which a collection of seventy-five cents was taken. Then the doxology was sung and the meet- ing closed with benediction by the pastor. Abe was too much effected by the sermon to speak to Nancy, but he took the preacher aside and said to him: "Reverend sah, let me conglomerate yer on yer effort ; it wuz sure fine, but yer wuz er little personal in yer 'marks." "I don't understand you, sir." "Well, I kind er thought yer ought not ter had called me er wolf in sheep's clothin.' "Why, my young friend, I never thought of you; indeed I did not. I was after that Iscariot of a Judas, John Sloan, up there in the amen corner who kept on calling on me to 'tell it!' until he broke up the meeting and ruined the collection. There are many Iscariots in the world yet, my friend, and the trouble of it is, they have not religion enough to hang themselves. "I am rather pleased to see you here. I assure you that you have an eternal welcome to Foley Chapel. Suppose you take a seat in the choir and train that fine bass voice of yours to heavenly music." 9 6 Abe was delighted with his success. He accepted the invitation to sing in the choir, and left the parson feeling confident that he had made a good beginning. On Tuesday and Thursday nights he met the young people at the parsonage for choir pr?ctice; and when on Sunday afternoons, he and Nancy blended their voices into song you may be sure the church services were decidely improved. Abe was getting along so well with his sacred music that his friends came up from Sportsman's Alley to witness his success. For awhile it appeared as if the whole gambling fraternity were going to dis- sect the skeletons of their guilty consciences on the confessional. The singing of the choir was grand. And when the preacher said: "Let all the people sing," and those fallen sons from the Mandlin Club Rooms joined in with Abe and sang : "Let the lower lights be burning 1 , Send a gleam across the wave, Some poor, fainting, struggling seaman You may rescue, you may save." every eye in the congregation was moist. Abe was so intent on building a favorable repu- tation with the parson, as a kind of foundation for bis little flirtation with Nancy, that a half dozen or more Sundays passed before he entered fully upon the prosecution of his plans. In short, the fine manners, child-like simplicity, 97 chastity and womanly air of the parson's daughter were so far above any thing he had ever seen or was accustomed to in Sportsman's Alley, that he was at a loss to know just how to begin; and McGraw was so cruelly sarcastic in his remarks that he wanted to be doubly sure that all was well before he began. That choir practice was a delight to him, because behind it he could hide from his friend McGraw and gaze at Miss Nancy in silent admiration. Really she was an admirable woman. Few men could be flip- pant with her. There was something magnetic about her that commanded rather than won respect. Abe had tried a dozen times to ask her to grant him an evening's entertainment, when the choir was away; and as many times a peculiar sensation crept up into his throat and choked him into silence, and yet, when he was away in the secluded privacy of his own little room, he was continually perusing a dictionary in search of some rythmical word to rhyme with Nancy. She felt an interest in him; but it was kindly, rather than affectionate. She, with her j: father, was trying to lead him through the choir up to a higher plane of life, and he seemed so^much pleased with their effort that she was delighted^and always welcomed him to the parsonage with'a'smile. The choir with its smiling, sweet faced organist may not be the grand highway to heaven; but it is not without its pilgrims. Nancy, however, had other qualities. She was thrifty and industrious to a fault, and her taste ran to landscape gardening. Under her management the parsonage yard had been transformed from a dumping ground for tin cans, bones, barrel staves, scraps of paper and rags into a beautful garden. The lawn mower had been freely used and the even, smooth, velvety grass flanked with borders of ever-blooming roses, violets, pinks and other flowers was a sight over which one might linger with satisfaction and delight. That old hat, mildewed pillow and fragments of an old quilt that once protruded from the pane-less window sash the sturdy sentinels against many a stormy day, were now conspicuous by their absence. I remember with pleasure, a little cluster of morning glories she had reared in front of that win- dow to screen it from the rays of the morning sun. Her cunning fingers had trained them to form them- selves into the shape of a human heart, and there they blowed and quivered of mornings like a passion flower. It was a bright, sunny morning, the last Sunday in May, 1899, the wind came up from the South in refreshing little zephyrs, which iust lifted the leaves of the trees, a mocking bird sat in a June apple tree near by warbling one of those inimitable songs a mock- ing bird only can sing, and the heart of morning 99 glories glowed with white, red and purple flowers. Abe was returning from market and caught a glimpse of Nancy through those beautiful vines. She was reviewing the Sunday school lesson, and did not see him. He walked along slowly, and in a half dozen paces looked back as many times, and thought he saw in her ease, grace and beauty personified. About this time, McGraw passed along, and slapping him playfully on the shoulder, said: " Beware uv de mornin' glories, many er poor fello' er bout here has lost his heart er foolin' wid dem vines." "Pshaw, pshaw! go 'long dar, nigger ! I ain't studyin' yer," said Abe as McGraw hurried on whist- ling: " She was happy till she met you, And the fault was all your own." Abe walked along the street in an absent minded kind of way till he reached his home. He met his mother at the gate and gave her a steak for break- fast and pork roast for dinner, hurried into his room and sat on the side of his bed. Sitting there alone he felt a strange kind of sensation, his heart quivered like the one of morning glories, and he said aloud: " My, what a flood of frien'ly feelin' dat parson's gal 'cites in me ! I wonders ef I's got heart's d'sease. I'ssuregwine ter see Nancy ter day an* splanemysef. " Abe now began to arrange his toilet for Sunday IOO School. He repolished his shoes, washed his hands and worked on his finger nails for an hour, trimming and brushing them till he w:>re them off to the quick. He then began on his hair, and here is where the rub came. He brushed it down on this side, roached it up on that, parted it and looked in the glass to see if it was becoming; to his chagrin the part was gone; for his hair had away of crawling back together like lamb's wool. Then he brushed it back and tried it without a part. This would not do; for no gentleman of color can call himself well dressed whose hair is not parted. At last the happy thought came to him to give it a good coating of pomade, part it in the mid- dle and tie it down with a pocket handkerchief for a while. This done, he went on with his toilet to a neat and tidy finish, got his hat and brazon-headed cane and started off for Sunday School just as the bells of the city began to chime out the hour of the afternoon services. He had been so intent on making a good ap- pearance, that the time had passed him unobserved. Thinking himself in time for Sunday School, he walked leisurely into the church and took his seat in his accustomed place, drew the lesson sheet from his pocket and began to scan the golden text. The congregation, now began to crowd into the church, the members of the Mandolin Club turning put en-mass; and seating themselves, fixed their eyes 101 on Abe. He had forgot his head. There he sat the silent producer, of suppressed laughter. The preacher seeing his predicament and the people sniggling be- hind their handkerchiefs and fans, said aloud: " Will Mr. Bragg please step over to the parson- age and bring me a hymn book ? " Abe felt specially favored at this mark of atten- tion, and pranced down the aisle of the church in his new " Prince Albert" suit, with visions ot an after- noon stroll with Nancy, passing through his mind, and the people turning in their seats to gaze at that peculiar dressed head, burst into loud and fitful laughter. He met Miss Nancy at the door, and she exclaimed: "Oh, Mr. Bragg, what is the matter with your head?" Then he remembered the handkerchief, and reaching up for it. tore it ,from his bewildered pate, thrust it into his pocket, and shot down the pave- ment like a rubber ball thrown from the hand of a school boy, and that "Prince Albert!" Well, it rode the air like a swallow's tail. A few weeks later there was a quiet little wed- ding up at Foley Chapel, in which the name of Nancy Summers was merged into Nancy McGraw. No one ever saw Abe Bragg at Foley's Chapel again. The last I heard of him he was blacking shoes in a barber shop in Chicago by day, and taking lessons in hair culture by night. I^et us hope that he will find some hidden re- ceipt in Nature's laboratory which will obviate the troubles that arise in making a Negro's toilet. Splitting the Difference. SPLITTING THE DIFFERENCE. I T was during the close of our cotton season, last year, when the little incident of which I am now thinking occurred. Owing to heavy rains and disastrous floods, the crops were generally short. Peter Stokes, an old friend of mine, was feeling unus- ually blue over the results. The prospects were any- thing but encouraging, and the melancholy aspect of Peter's features was appalling. Not knowing just what to do, he sat in his chimney corner whittling and whistling one of those plaintive airs that will sometimes involuntarily escape from the most of us. That air is familiar to more people than Peter Stokes. Many a time it has struck the strings of my harp as a kind of requiem to the dead hopes of my castle-building ; for the family purse, that is an empty one, is an unwieldy thing. Since I could remember the Stokes people have been burdened with an empty purse, and the thing is beginning to tell on Peter. It is the direct cause of those long, deep furrows in his face, where misery 105 io6 nestles as complacently as if it were a mouse of the vestry. With the exception of an old donkey, the purse was the only thing handed down to him on the demise of his father. An heirloom of his ancestry, it descended to him from remote times. A few weeks ago Peter Stokes, the elder, died, and the day following this sad event bis will was read. The family v^as a large one, and could not, as the will directed, all assemble about the hearth-stone; but there was ample room in the unfenced yard, which was a part of Willow Flats Common. So Peter, the younger, and a committee of three of the older mem- bers of the family were, by common consent, selected to hear the reading of it and to report its contents to the remainder of them. The committee gathered around the hearth, took fresh quids of tobacco, drew out their knives and amused themselves by whittling while the lawyer read the will. While this was being done their kinsfolk stood about the yard in little knots, the young people to crack jokes with each other and the older ones to discuss the family pedi- grees, which they could trace, in a direct line, back into those dim and misty periods where your imagin- ation would stagger and your memory lose itself in the corridors of time. The will (a long and cumbersome document) was more an attempt at philosophical deductions on the nothingness of human glory, and the vanity of 107 man's achievement, than a will. It was full of such quaint expressions as this : " My beloved kinsmen, remember that you, as did all men before you, and as shall all who come after you, came into this world clothed in ignorance, and the only thing over which you will have undis- puted control shall be a shroud. Whatever your earthly possessions may purport to be, this item will finally be the sum total of them all. In this you may pose in state for a season ; but, be not deceived, this world, with all its pomp and show, its gloss and tinsel, is but worm- wood and gall; and the worm shall survive you . " Let this admonish you to look well to our family motto: 'THE APPROVAL OF A CONSCIENCE THAT IS GOOD AND CLEAR IS MAN'S BEST POSSESSIONS ' " After this and many other absurdities similar in their conclusions, this codicil followed: " Having remembered you, my kinsmen, in the above instrument, it remains my duty to give to my son, Peter, the purse of the family ; and our beast of burden, which he will find running at large in Willow Flats Common, these he is to have, to his own proper use and behoof forever. My old friend, Steve Black- well, is hereby made the executor of my last will and testament, without bond. " In testimony whereof, I hereto affix my [SEAL..] signature, this 3th day of July, 1900. "PETER STOKES, SR." io8 Perhaps the old man's death, his will and the short crops were, in some measure, the cause of Peter's depression ; but not the only cause, for he had seen some of these things before. Unfortunate for Peter, he was looking beyond the teachings of his parents. He rather liked the blast of trumpets with which wealth, renown and glory herald their import- ance. Lord Bacon's philosophy took the ascendancy over that of his father's, and he was meditating a seizure of the forbidden iruit. It was the same old story : a thirst for knowledge ; a reaching out after the unattainable ; a discernment between good and evil, and a fall; for truly, " Much study is a weari- ness of the flesh." If we were ignorant of the inalienable rights of mankind, and the enormity of the evil heaped upon us by him whom fortune has favored, perhaps we could not feel that we are an outraged atom of the universe; and, to the extent of our passive sensibili- ties, could run life's career with patience and be happy. These are the thoughts that flitted across Peter's mind on that eventful evening when he sat in his chimney corner whistling to his fallen spirits. Presently he went to the door and looked out on the crimson of the western skies. The twilight of a clear December evening was on, and Vesper swung down the horizon. Standing there alone, he had a celestial vision. It always happens so. When some log brilliant son of the poor escapes the thraldom of the unlearned, he follows the illusory cadence of the muses until Fate reminds him that it is by work, work, work, and not by the wag of an eloquent tongue, one gets his daily bread ; yet Peter, still pur- suing the delusion, dreamed aloud : " The stars go down yon distant slopes, Where the firmament, like a scroll. By the touch of an unseen hand, Seems fondly, carefully rolled. " Perhaps they mark the pearly strand Of Aden, the spirit's goal, And gleam across life's stormy seas God's beacon-lights to the soul." In the midst of this miserable attempt at metrical expression, he heard the more musical and reasonable voice of Ike Stubb's ringing out on the evening air: "Haw, thar ! Look at yer, Bill. Come here, L,ep. What's ter matter wid yer, Brandy?" and the whick, whack pow of his ox whip, as he drove his team over a bad place in the road. This done, he began to dance and hop about the road and to sing plantation songs, to the great surprise of Peter, for generally, Ike was as sedate as himself. So Peter walked out to the road to meet him and learn the cause of his merriment. He reached the road just as Ike drove up, and said to him : no " Ike, what on earth is the matter with you ?" ' 'Kinley proxerity. " " What?" " 'Kinley proxity." " What is that?" " Don't know ; dat's what Mr. Dale calls it." Thtn he began to sing : " I don't know just what's the matter, 'Ceptin' I'se lately made a hit, Dat makes me feel dat happee, sah, Dat I muss shake my foot er bit." " But Ike, you forget you are a deacon of New Hope church." " No, I furgits nuthia'; but I's too happee to be er-foolin' wid 'ligeon now. Dat's er spiritous matter, an' I's er feelin' like er fello' citizun." He then pulled out a handful of new coin and said : " Hi dat ain't er 'nough ter make yer feel like er gentlemun uv de worl', I'd like ter know what is." Pleasantly surprised, Peter asked him where he got his money, aud he answered : " S )ld my crap ter day." By this titne Peter had reached his side, and the two walked along by the team, Ike speaking to his oxen occasionally the while. Ike's success reminded Peter of his father's will and the family purse, and he told him all about the old man's teachings and his Ill intentions ; in short, he said he was thinking of going into the money -making business himself, but that it was hard for him to get the consent of his con- science. After he had finished, Ike gave him some valu- able advice on the subject of conscience. This is the Negro's natural element. If there is anything in this world he is proficient in, it is advice-giving. He takes to it like goslings to grass. I never saw one (and I have seen a good many) that could not give advice on almost any subject imaginable. They never say, " I don't know "; and, turning to Peter, Ike said : " Look er here, frien'; ef yer 'spects to make money, yer can't 'ford to be er-foolin' wid yer con- shuuce. No man dat makes money can. Yer jist turn conshunce over ter yer wife and let 'er go." "Why Ike!" "Git out uv dat rut dar, Ball! I knows what 1's talkin' erbout. I ain't been in de money traffic thirty year fur nuffin'. I never 'mounted ter much tell I lost my conshunce." " Why, Ike, I thought you told me your success was due to McKinley prosperity?" " Haw, Lep ! Pshaw, man ; dat's what de mer- chan' said. 'Course, I knowed better." " What did your conscience have to do with it ?" "Come here, Brandy; all tergedder, boys! I 112 tell yer dese am bad roads. What my conshunce has ter do wid it?" "Yes." "Well I'll tell yer: Spring 'fore las' when I gives Mr. Dale de las' deed of trust on my crap an' ev'ry thing tlse I 'pre-sed my conshunce er little an' lef dat speckle ox, L/ep, over thar out uv it. "He axed me erbout him lots uv times, but I jist put er screw on conshunce and said, dat ox done died wid de hollow tail long er go. De frien'ship be- tween dat merchin an' me went ter pieces on dat ox an' so one day erbout de middle of plantiu' time he comes an' takes ev'rything I had but Lep. Den I goes down in the swamp an' drives him out, hitches him ler my plough an' goes er head. " What did you do for something to eat Ike? " "Well, I kinder scrapped around at night, an' de oP woman peddled chickens in deday." " What did Mr. Dale think of this?" Don't know, never sot my foot in his store tell last week, when I drapped around to give him er friendly call." " Did he have anything to say?" " Oh yes, he wuz mighty glad ter see me, shook hands wid me an' quired 'bout de ol' woman. He axuley axed me ter take er drink wid him, an ' when I 'fused he gin me er ten cent cheroot an' begged pardon fur axin' er deacon ter drink." "Mr. Dale is a very kind and obliging gentel- man." "Dat's what he is, or wuz, when he gin ter 'quire 'bout my crap." " Of course you told him about your great crop." " Not er bit uv it." "Why not?" " Kase I knowed ef I told him de truth erbout it he'd make de little balance I owed him kiver de whole thing. He can come nearer kiverin' er crap wid figers dan eny man I ever seed." " Be careful Ike or you will slander a good man. There is not a better man in the county than Mr. Dale, his honesty is proverbal." " Who said it wuzent! I wuz jistspeakin' 'bout de way dat man kin sifur." " Ike I will not stand this; you must apol- ogize." " Lem me 'splain myse'f." " Very well, 'splain yourself." " Well 'bout de time I got through wid dat chee- root, er 'niggei' comes in wid er basket uv good things ter eat. Now I never had much use fur dese here town niggers, thep won't do ; but dis one wuz so very handy, I kinder fell ter likin' him, kase after he'd spread out dat dinner, he sidled up to me and said: "De boss tol' me ter ax yer ter dinner, an' I H4 fetched yer de cream uv de kitchen. He whispered dat ter me an' straightway I had er fellow feelin' fur him, kase I skivered dat he had drapt his conshunce. He wuz nice too, an' fetched er cheer fur me ter set in . I sot down an' helpt myse'f. Ar- ter erwhile de merchan' cames erlong an' sot down on de other side an' 'gins ter 'scuss ol' times." " That was very unusual for Mr. Dale." " Dat's what I thought at de time, and I kinder thinks dat nigger put him up ter it, kase er- boujt de time I wuz gettin' full of pies, cakes an' saus- age, dat nigger brings er round cheroots and wine. We talked on erbout ol' times an' de merchan' tuck er glass of wine. Here my tongue slipped an' I said: " Boss I 'spects I'll make erbout three bales uv cot- ton dis year." An' he said: " Splendid Ike, splen- did!" an' looked at me wid his big blue eys swim- min' er round in tears lik vi'lets under dew. "Here I seed dat my conshunce wuz er gettin' onruley an' ter steady myse'f I wiped de sweat off my brow wid my coat sleave. Ergin de merchan' said: " Ike we have been doing business together about thirty years. ' ' " An' I said, "dat's right Boss." ' ' And not a jolt in our temper. ' ' " Right ergin Boss." H5 " You remember there was always a little bal- ance of five dollars left over. " Dhar sure wuz, sez I." '' There are just thirty of them, Ike, which make about one hundred and fifty dollars." " What yer doin' in dat mud hole I/ep? Come here Ball!" Whick, whack, pow went the whip and Ike continued: " Den he said ter me." " Ike as you have been a good "nigger" and given me no trouble during all these years, I am going to knock off fifty dollars. Give me a hundred dollars and call it even." " De next day I tuck him de three bales of cot- ton an' we settled like men an' I got twenty dollars over. Dat's what he calls 'Kinley proxerity. He den gives me er calicur dress fur 'Lizer. He stcod in de door uv his store while I wuz loading my wag- in an' spied ol' L,ep over dar, an' said: "Ike that looks like that spotted bull you told me died of the hollow tail?" "Den I told him how fur er year I tied ol' I/ep out in de woods wid my conshunce, ter keep him off uv dat deed uv tiust. Dis wuz de truth erbout it, and we drapt de matter by laughing it off." "Ter-day I tuck him seven bales of cotton more an' got ten cent' er pound fur it." u6 " And you call this suppressing your con- science?" " Yer can put any 'struction on my 'marks yer want's ter, I wuz jist givin' yer er case in pint." Here Ike stopped his team and said : " Peter what ever come uv yer pa's oP jack?" " He is out on Willow Flats Common, why?" "I wuz thinkin' dat I'd like ter give yer er trade fur him. What'll yer take?' ' " He is not for sale at any price, Ike." " No harm in er feller axin yer, I hope. I's not er hankerin' a'ter my neighbor's goods, but I always had er weakness fur dat critter. Ef yer ever takes er notion ter expose uv him, I has fifty dollars fur yer." " Peter now bid Ike good night and started back for his home. As he walked along the lonely road Ike's offer of fifty dollars would ever and anon flaunt itself in his face and taunt him with his empty purse. Again and again he turned the rel- ative values of fifty dollars in gold and his father's old donkey over in his mind. God pity the rich man if gold disturbs his slumbers as it did Peter's that night. The next morning he was up betimes and went out to Willow Flats Common, to look at his donkey. He had not gone far, before to his great amazement, he found him by the railroad track dead. For a moment he was at his wit's end ; then, remem- bering the fifty dollars, he started off for Ike's house with a bound. He found him in his lot feeding his oxen, and said to him: " Ike, I have thought of your offer all night and I have concluded to let you have the donkey at fifty dollars." " Not now, yer ought to have tuck me up last night. Since I comes ter think uv it, he's too old. " You are mistaken about his age, Ike. He is not over seven years, if that." " Ha ! ha ! ha ! what yer done wid yer con- shunce? " Man, dat jack am fifteen years old, ef er day." " No he is not. Go look at his teeth." ' I has er better way than dat ter prove his age. Whar's Mose ? Mose, come here Mose !" " Here me, daddie." " How old is yer, boy ?" " I's eighteen, daddie." "How you knows dat, son? Tell Mr. Stokes." " Kase mammy says I wusborn when Mr. Smith built the new gin house, an' I heard him say year before last dat he built it eighteen year er go." " Right, son. Ah, Mr. Stokes, I told yer so, dat jack wuz er colt when Mose wuz er baby." ' ' There is fifteen years good service in that donkey yet, Ike." Said Peter, in one desperate effort to bring Ike around to a trade. " Does yer think so ? " n8 " I know it." 11 Den I'll tell yer what I'll do." "Yes." " Split de diffence wid yer." " Split the difference with me !" "Dat's it, yer an' yer daddy has had dat jack fifteen or more years; I'll take de other fifteen an give yer twenty-five dollars. What yer say? Is it er trade?" 41 As I am needing money pretty bad, I guess I'll have to'take it, but it is a hard bargain.'' " I has yer money here sah." So saying, Ike counted out twenty-five dollars and handed it to Peter. He took it and demanded twelve and a half dollars more. " Man, is yer crazy? Twenty-five dollars wus de price." " No, thirty-seven and a half dollars was the price. I wanted fifty dollars, you offered twenty-five. Then we split the difference." " No sah, we split the difference in time, not money. Yer have de money an' its er trade." " It is not a trade; here is your money back. " " No, no, no ! I makes no chillun's barg'ins, its er trade. Mose, come here Mose !" "Yes, sah." " Son, yer go look fur dat jack, an' don't yer stop till yer has kotched him, do yer hear." Upon this Moses started off to look for the don- key; Peter turned away, saying he would sue Ike; and Ike went into his house and sat down to his morning meal, with all the ease of a prosperous man, sipped his coffee and talked pleasantly to his wife, of his affairs; dwelling with satisfaction on his trade with Peter. Leaning back in his chair and rubbing his hands, he said: " Lizer, dat wuz the trade uv my Hie. De idee uv some folks boastin' uv superiosity. I got dat " Red Neck's " jack fur less 'an ha'f his value. He's worth er hundred ef er cent. Got him fur twenty- five." About this time Moses came running in, and said: " Daddie the jack is dead !" " What yer say?;' " Dead !" "Who's dead?" ' De jack yer bought from Mr. Stokes. ' Upsetting his coffee and stumbling over a chair, Ike rose, grabbed his hat and bolted out of the door. Running at full speed, he soon reached the station where Peter was. Some distance away from it, how- ever, he saw Peter talking to a well dressed man, and just as he got in speaking distance of them he heard the well dressed man say: " Split the difference," as he stepped into the magistrate's office. Coming up to Peter, Ike said: " Yer's er capitul joker; but I wants my money back." " You want what ? " " My money. I sees it all now; its er joke an' no trade." " No, Ike; its a trade and no joke." Ike insisted that it was not a trade and Peter held that it was. But Peter was simply leading Ike along, and seeing his opportunity he said: " Ike, since you say the donkey is dead, I'll tell you what I'll do." " What's dat, boss?" "I'll split the difference with you; give you twelve and a half dollars and take the dead donkey. What do you say ? ' ' After a moment's pause Ike said: " Well, dat's more 'an nothin', I'll take it." Again it was a trade; and Peter handed him twelve and a half dollars. They now walked into the magistrate's office where the well dressed man was. He took Peter aside and they held a conversa- tion in an undertone: but Ike heard him say "split the difference," and Peter say, "yes." Then they came back to the table and the well dressed man wrote a receipt which read as follows: " Received of the Illinois Central Railroad Com- pany seventy-five dollars for one donkey, which was 121 killed by the cars of the Company, December 22, 1900; said seventy-five dollars being in full of all de- mands by me against said Company down to date. PETER STOKES." Then it was Ike walked up to the well dressed man and said: " Boss, please tell me yer name ? " "Fred Sampson, Stock Claim Agent for the Il- linois Central Railroad Company. Why?" " Well, Mr. Sampson, yer is er mighty fine specification, but yer's ez green ez I is. Both uv us is duped by the trader uv dead jack asses. Adam Shuffler, "ADAM SHUFFLER." ADAM SHUFFLER. I N cunning, the Negro measures up favorably with * the rest of the human family; and in dissimula- tion he is a " Past Master." He can give the Span- iards, the Chinaman or any other class of human beings points in this, the finest of arts. If ever he is placed on our diplomatic staff, where he can de- ceive with impunity, the world will be startled with the smoothness of his procedure. It is this trait more than any other, perhaps, that has kept him from being utterly ruined by his pale faced brother. And now that we are alone; out of ear-shot of the vulgar; you and I, secluded from the prying gaze of the public eye, I will tell you of a little incident in the life of my old friend Adam Shuffler. I must ex- act of you, however, an unconditional promise that you will not tell it to another, living, human, being, because I pledged him upon my sacred honor, "that I would never divulge it, except in a low breath, and that to a brother, professionally. Perceiving you to have been initiated I await your promise ? Ah, thank you ! 125 126 Well, to begin with; Adam was of the old school. To use his own words, he was "one of de 'fore de war niggers, dat knows er white man." He had been caught in the act, and brought in on the usual charge, "Chicken lifting," tried, con- victed and was about to b? sentenced when, the Court, by way of amusement, asked him if he had anything to say why he should not be fined. If I live till the end of time, I cannot forget the repentant aspect of his features as he rose to state his case. His was not dilitory pleas and demurrers, nor special pleas in bar and abatement; but a bundle of extenuating circumstances that was a defense. Standing there, and wiping the sweat from his forehead with his coat sleeve, he said: " Mars William, please read ter me dat little bit uv ne-vs what yer was readin' when I comes in here." " Certainly," said the magistrate and, picking up the paper, he read as follows: " Mr.s. A. B Johston, widow of a gallant Confed- erate soldier, is in dire distress and want. Her house was burned last night. All she had went up in smoke. The White Ribbon Society appeals to a generous pub- lic in her behalf. Anything given will be thank- fully received. Leave all contributions with Mrs. A. L,. Dodd, and oblige. MRS. ANNIE SMITH, President. 127 The magistrate laid the paper aside, and Adam said: " Mars William, what didyer say yer foun' me?" " Six dollars and cost, Adam." " How much is dat ?" " Nine and a half dollars." " Well, I's jist got ten dollars, yer take it an' give it to dat widow wid my complimentory. I aint er gwine ter see no soldier's widow suffer while I's got er cent. An' ef yer can get er little cookin' an washin' fer Lizer ter do, I'd be mighty thankful' fur she aint got er dust uv meal in de house. I'll work dis here fine out, an' if de good Lord lets me live I'll let Inzer's hens raise de chickens we eats a'ter dis." " But, Adam, there are six other charges against you; how about those?" " I's nothin' more ter say." " Why, the total cost and fines of these charges would be sixty-six and a half dollars, and it will take you thirteen months to work them out on the prison farm. Do you plead guilty to these charges?" " I leaves dat ter yer white iolks." "The magistrate, feeling the force of Adam's sacrifice, folded up the other affidavits against him and filed them away as he said to Adam: " The constable will take you to jail, I will not try you .on the other charges to-day. " The officer led him away; the magistrate gave 128 his contribution to the White Ribbon Society ; and a newspaper reporter, who was a silent observer of the little scene, wrote up a vivid description of Adam's action in the court room, under this glaring head line: "A GENEROUS NEGRO." That night every business man of the city read the story of the "Generous Negro," to his family, and the next dav a subscription was started, not only for the widow, but for Adam also. All the other fines against him were withdrawn, his fine of nine and a half dollars wa? paid and a nice little sum was handed to his wife by the president of the " White Ribbon Society." He used to laugh and tell me about it, always winding up with these significant remarks: " I knowed I wuz playin' er trump card; but I had no idte dat I wuz gettin' er good name fur hon- estee dat would last fur ever. Dat wuz twentee years ergo, an' I's had spring broilers on my table ev'ry mornin' since. I tells yer dat de best placejor de cullod brudder am in Mississippi, an' de best thing fur him ter do after he gits dar is ter git on de white side uv public 'pinion." I hopa this little narration of Adam's proclivities is sufficient to introduce to you our family trait, and reljing on you to keep your promise and never divulge what I have told, I bid you a merry good night. Hagar, HAGAR ) ~J AGAR was a peculiar, though good woman. * -* When I say good I hope you will understand me, and not look for anything beyond the ordinary. I simply mean that there was not a particle of good within the circle of her environments which she did not absorb. From this point of view, she was as good as she could be. L,ike the most of us, she had her prejudices, and generally formed her opinions of people and things from hearsay. These opinions, once formed, were never changed. They were just so. In this she showed her ante-bellum rearing, and reflected every sentiment of that high-minded and chivalrous people, who have allowed their opinions to so crystalize into a single idea that they are known the world over as the people of the " Solid South." She was as much a part of this people as if her features were as white as monumental alabaster, and her eyes tinged with the blue of an April sky ; and yet, she was as black as polished ebony. Her form was not as graceful as some I have 132 seen ; yet, from the view point of the anatomist, her physique was one which you might envy. She was about five feet high ; half as wide out as she was tall, apparently ; thick in proportion, and tipped the beam at two hundred pounds. With her tin tub under her arm, she appeared to best advantage in her work-day clothes ; with a hand- kerchief wound about her head like a Turkish turban, her skirts hitched up at the side and fastened with the strings of her apron, she stood, in her number ten brogans, a giantess indeed. There were many things in her simple life worthy of the attention of the ethologist ; but, as his is a science above me, I shall content myself with this simple story of her. From early life she had collected from rumor reports of the acts of that class of our fellow-citizens commonly called " Red Necks," which had so biased her opinion that she viewed them with an evil eye. To be brief about it, she looked upon them as White Caps, murderers and assassins ; and, if they were not cannibals, they were, nevertheless, savages who would apply the torch to a Negro's cabin, lynch him or burn him at the stake, with as much lightheartedness as school children would enter upon the gambols of a holiday. These reports were highly colored with fiction, it is true, but she believed them, and hence she was WITH A TIN TUB UNDER HER ARM." 133 unprepared to give the Red Necks impartial considera- tion. This, I confess, was a bad state of mind for Hagar or any one else, and my apology for her is this: Her mental make-up had less of the divine than the human in it, and, leaning to the shady side of her nature, she fell into those little errors to which human nature is prone. Actuated by these, she brooded over the annals of the Red Necks until they became the burden of her thoughts and the incubus of her slumbers ; and, if she could have had her way, something out of the usual order of things would have happened. As it was, the expected occurred. "Arson ?" No, not that ! The winking at the law by us Americans, together with the license we give the favored few to do violence, has not so far advanced in its tutelage of our meaner passions as to cause us to retaliate with the torch ; but we are improving. Per- haps the legacy we leave our children may, in the fourth generation, have this item to its credit. This, however, is not the theme of these remarks ; and it is not necessary to dwell longer on the proclivities of Hagar. It is enough to say that May the ist, 1895, Mr - Trobridge moved into the community where she lived. She was away from home at the time, but she returned during the early afternoon, and her children met her 134 at the gate. Gathering around her, they, with moist eyes and ashen lips, whispered, "Red Necks!" and pointed across the street to where our brother in white had moved, whereupon she and the children hurried into her house. Once over the threshold, she shut and barred the doors, fell across the bed and cried, "Oh! Lord, de devil is done come." Unmindful of her misgivings, Mr. Trobridge went about his business as cheerfully as was custom- ary with him; and it is but doing him justice to say he was a broad and liberal-minded man, who was above the little racial prejudices that pervade inferior minds. He felt, nevertheless, that white men are above black ones by force of divine will that it was not in the nature of things for Negroes to equal Cau- casians; hence, he was above those little malicious tendencies Hagar supposed a Red Neck to have; and, thankful for the superior position in which the Master had placed him, he was trying to obey the command, "Go, ye, therefore, and teach all nations." With this thought uppermost in his mind, he took his resi- dence among the Negroes, determined to treat them graciously. Unfortunate for him, however, he had a rosy complexion and a red neck. From this point it was but a step to the combative tendencies a Red Neck is said to have, she took it. Brooding upon these, she was soon as malicious as she believed Mr. Trobridge to be, and she meditated violence. 135 There was no getting along with Hagar. She was on the rampage from start to finish. Many are the misdemeanors she committed, all of which Mr. Trobridge, good-naturedly, overlooked. Thus favored, she developed a boldness that was menacing, and suc- ceeded with her meanness pretty well in everything but one. She could not keep her boy, Sam, away from the Trobridge residence. Do what she would, he turned up there occasionally, and was quite handy in running errands and doing little jobs of work around the house and garden ; for all of which Mrs. Trobridge paid him handsomely, and frequently gave him little bits of sweetmeats from her pantry, But the thing that attracted Sam most was the billy goat the Trobridge boys, Bill and Tom, had. This goat had been taught to do all manner of tricks; and of evenings, when school was out and the work all done, the boys had glorious times with it on the commons behind the lot. They called the goat Sul., in honor of their ideal prize-fighter, John L,. Sullivan, and because of the quick and sudden lunges it always made in the many fights they mischievously got it into. Using its head as Sullivan would his fist, the goat was a pugilistic gentleman of high standing among the boys. This also was a source of annoyance to Hagar and furnished her with an additional pretext to taunt the Trobridga family, so she made it a point, 136 whenever she saw them on 'their front gallery with company, to stand in her door and yell to the top of her voice and she had a voice a big, sonorous, one that would make the welkin ring. With this voice pitched in its uppermost keys, she would call, "You Samu'l? Ef yer don't come er way from dat poor white trash, I's gwin ter beat yer gizart out en yer." Now if there is anything in this world that will rasp a white man's soul, it is to be called poor white trash by a negro. This is usually his fighting piece, but Mr. Trobridge stood it pretty well. He rather en- joyed seeing Sam scamper away and come up through his mother's back-yard whistling, I don't want to play in their yard, I don't like 'um any more;" and to hear Hagar's blasted scolding, "look er here nigger, don't yer come er foolin wid me, I has er mindter beat de liver out en yer." In spite of herself, Hagar was getting the worst of it ; and between the Trobridge family and Sam, she found worry enough to urge her to resentment. Gradually she worked herself up to desperation. At last she concluded, "dat er Red Neck wuzn't so much no how ;" and she hankered after a personal combat. Burning with this desire, she lay down one day for her after dinner nap, and soon fell to dreaming of cracked heads, pools of blood and the funeral of a 137 certain prominent citizen, from which she was awak- ened by the clock on the stroke of four o'clock p. m. It was May 3oth, 1895. All the neighbors of the vicinity had gone to the Decoration except Mr. Tro- bridge. In the 'after-malice' of her dreams she look- ed up and saw him in his yard, under an elm tree. His hat had fallen off, his paper lay loose on his knee and his jaw had collapsed. He slept. Then it was, she seized a large carving knife and hurried out with it under her apron. She crossed the street and crept along the side-walk by the board fence till she was near the point where he was. Here, through a crack in the fence, she caught a better view of him. There he was with his head dropped to one side, his shirt collar open and his red neck in full view. Was there ever a better mark for the assassin's blade. She crept cautiously on, reached the gate, lifted the latch and looked around to see if all was clear, she was alone with her victim; and save Sul., the goat, that stood near chewing the advertising page of the paper, there was no eye to see. Nearer and nearer she came, took the knife from its hiding place and ran her thumb along its blade to test its edge. It was never sharper. Then crouch- ing and leaning forward, she nerved herself for the fatal blow, when suddenly there was a lunge and a pile of ebon hued flesh lay along the earth, with a very much bruised head, from which there came . 138 groans of agony and despair. These disturbed the sleeper and he awoke. Looking down on the prostrate form before him he thought she was sufier- ing of apoplexy; and, going to the hydrant, he turned a faucet and dashed water in her face. This revived her somewhat and scrambling to her feet she said, " Thank yer sir; yer's sure been good ter me," and left his premises. Is it necessary to say the goat thought Hagar was after him, and accepted the challenge. A Dollar's Worth of Conscience, A DOLLAR'S WORTH OF CONSCIENCE. | ETER SNELUNG was accustomed to windows * in the crown of his hat. Long before he came to his patrimony, his weather worn coat hung from his shoulders awry; his legs, always a little crooked, had taken additional curves. These, however, were thonght to be due to the dip of his shoes. His pure English had lost its refinement in the slang of the slums; in short, socially speaking, his sun had set. This was his wretched state when, on the tenth day of May 1880, the executors of the Snelling Es- tate, handed over to him his legacy of twenty-five thousand dollars. I remember him well. The day before he came into the Mission Station and took the pledge of the "White Ribon Society" and in a nice little speech emphasized his intention to lead a better life. Per- haps I gave him unusual attention, because of the light that beamed in the eye of our secretary, Blanche Burtrim, while he was addressing the meet- ing. Miss Burtrim was an unassuming; sedate kind of a person and during the short year of our acquain- 141 142 tance I do not remember to have teen her smile, and, were it not for the attention she gave the topers, who, from time to time attended our meetings, one would have thought hers a hard and unforgiving nature, void of the tender sentiments of affection. Attracted by the smile that rippled across her face, I watched her through the whole proceedings of the evening's exercise to learn at last that hers was an affair of the heart, deep, lasting, eternal and that her king of hearts had taken the pledge. The meeting closed and they walked slowly down the aisle, under the chandeliers together. She, with her face aglow in its triumph, looked on his haggard features and smiled; and when he gave her the assur- ance she had prayed for she laughed aloud. Oh! the music, the cadence, the indescribable grandeur and beauty Hope gives the visage when it laughs and chases Despair from the soul wfth ^mile. I now determined to keep this young man under my observation; and you may be sure I was agreeably surprised while walking down Beal street, in Mem- phis Tennessee, a few days later to see a nice little sign, swinging before the main entrance of the office bnildiug of the city, upon which was written' "PE- TER SNELUNG, Attorney and Courcelor-at-I^aw." I,ater in the day, during my rambles about the city, I found him directing the renovation, repairing and painting of the old Snelling homestead which had 143 been closed for years. A fortnight later I received an invitation to a quiet wedding at St. Andrew's church, 22nd Avenue, Memphis, Tennessee. I went and saw groom and bride plight their faith over the bridal altar and pass thence to the pilgrimage of life. Need I tell you our Secretary married the toper, Pe- ter Snelling. After this, life hurried us along our different ways and I could not see them as often as I desired; but I heard from them occasionally, and the reports, I am pleased to say, were encouraging. They were in the lap of fortune, and the world smiled. Time passed and I heard that my friend Snelling had made a fortune by speculating in cotton futures. This, to be sure, was not bad news; but some how I shuddered when I heard it. How could I do otherwise, when I remembered the gidy heights to which this pursuit of fortune leads one; and how rapid the descent if for- tune should frown; for he who gambles at stocks, securities and futures has no more certain gains than the man who plays at rouge-et-noir. The end is ruin. The years passed and things changed, the annals of which are not necessary to this narration. It is enough to say that my young friend, flushed vith the excitement of the exchange, followed his associates to the club rooms; where champagne, wine and whiskey inveigled him to the giddy heights whence fortune takes its flight and the miserable wretch that 144 dallies with it must descend the slippery prescipice to the bottomless pit. Snelling began his descent with a blast of trumpets and a group of the boys, hale and hearty fellows, well met. Easily and impercept- ibly to himself he \\ent down until his name became a by-word. Every one forsook him but his wife. She, like the gaurdian angel she was, hovered about him in his degradation; and in the hovel he finally designated as home, prayed for his deliverance. At no time had he a definite state, but his tendency was generally down, till late one night he came in from a wild debauch and fell senseless to the floor in a drunken stupor. She was sick at the time, but she nursed him into con- sciousness. Then it was his thirst became unbearable and he plead^with his wife for just one more drink, as one under convic'ion for crime pleads for respite; and she, yielding, gave him their last coin, saying, "take it Peter, it is the last of all your fortunes." Handing him a note also, she sank to their pallet of straw, of a broken heart. He gave the note a passing glance and dropped it to the floor in contempt. The note read as follows: May loth, 1895. " Pete Snelling: Your rent is six months in arrears. Unless 145 you pay it to-day, I shall have to put you out by force. HARRY STONE." Spelling paid but little attention to the notice, but with the dollar in hand he went out for his drink, and as he hurried along the street some truant school boys, meeting, him, began to sing: "Old Peter Snelling ! Smell 'm, smell 'im, smell 'im, Like a barrel's bung, He smells of rum, Rum, rum,, rum." He stopped to listen and the boys passed on, yelling, " Like a barrel's bung he smells of rum." till they lost themselves in the ( distance; but still the echo, " Rum, rum, rum," fell upon his years, like distant thunder. His legs now refused to carry him, and he sank to the curbstone and wept aloud. Memory was busy with him, and it carried him back to the mission station, where many years ago Hope stamped on Miss Burtrim's face its triumphant smile as he took the pledge. It all came back like an avenging Nemesis to haunt him. He remembered the Snelling fortune gone, all gone ! not a cent remained. At last he felt the dollar Blanche had given him, and with it he resolved to renew the battle of life. " I will return and give her this," he said, and clutch- i 4 6 ing it in his boney fingers, he arose and walked erect to their humble home, a converted man. He found his wife on their pallet of straw where he had left her; and calling her by name, he said, " Blanche, I have a dollar's worth of conscience left, and it has brought it back to you." She answered him not. Then, bending over her, he lifted her in his ams and looked her in the face. She recognized his repentance. At the close of his plea for forgive- ness, she answered: " Peter, again I forgive you all." These were her last words. Then the sun was dark- ened and a mourner went about the street penniless and alone: for the soul of Blanche Burtrim had passed to its reward, DC Eloquent For'well. DE ELOQUENT FAR'WELL. r^ PHRAIM and Eliza were on the snnny side of *-* what had been a stormy courtship. I suppose this from the fact that they were mutually attracted and, it is said, " true love nevar runs smoothly;" and because of the furter fact, that the Rev. Phillip Saunders, Eliza's father, was opposed "Ter low bred 'niggers' 'stnuating on the cullord 'stockracy." These were his words whenever he happened to speak of Ephraim. It was for this reason more than any other, per- haps, that Parson Siunders sent his daughter, "I^izer, ter College," whence after two years hard study, about Eph, she returned with a certificate of proficiency "in de art uv hoecake making," and a smattering of the king's English. The evening alter her return Ephraim called to see her; and she, still laboring under her infatuation for him, gave him a hearty welcome. They passed a delightful evening, and ere they were aware the clock chimed out the midnight hour. It was time to go, and Ephraim was performing that painful duty. 149 150 " Dis am whar my 'gre's comes in;" he said, as he paused on the steps, took her by the hand and looked wistfully up into her face, with that peculiar swell- ing throat and trembling lip which we have all felt when framing our plea for love's first kiss, when Eliza, a little vain of her college training, be- gan to talk of the eloquence of farewell; repeating, for instance, a nice little poem from the annals of Tus- kegee lore, which, as well as I can remember, was in these words: "Dah am times when one lingers, When yer tongue done stood stark still, Times when de touch of fingers, Sends throu'h de heart er thrill. When yer soul tug's at its burden, Queries of de mystic spell: Whose gwine er be in yer sweet thought When I has said farewell ? " Instead of a kiss Ephraim now plead for a copy " Uv dem sweet lines;" and she scribbled them off and gave them to him. Placing them in his inner pocket, next to his heart, he retired. How extravagant are the dreams of those who love ! Was there ever a living, human, being as pretty as Eliza, when she stood on her father's veranda re- peating " De eloquent far 'well? " With her spark- ling eyes and graceful airs, she was the delight of his wakeful hours and the idol of his dreams. Love makes all things beautiful, and from Ephraim's point of view Eliza was as lovely as the graces. He lay down and spent the night in dreams of her. The next morning he was up and at work be- times with a ligiit heart and aa active fancy, suoh as reciprocated affection always gives. He was a horse jockey and worked at the stables of Mr. George Jones; and while he was a faithful servaat, he was not a very active one. A kind of plod ling fellow that cared nothing about the forelocks of time. For this reason Mr. Jones kept a close watch on him; but on this occasion he had groomed the horses, cleaned out the stalls, and was sittiug on an inverted wheel barrow racking his brain in the vaia effort to find some suitable rhyme, " Fer dem sweat lines of Inzer's," when Mr. Jones walked up to him and en- quired what he was about. He told him of his last evening's call on Eliza, showed him her stanza, and with a sigh from his perplexed soul expressed aide- sire " ter 'muse dat parons's gal." Somewhat of a verse maker himself, and feeling a deep simpathy for Ephraim, Mr. Jones undertook to help him out; and so it was, he wrote for him these simple lines: " Adie ! It is never, Farewell to you my dear, You are present ever, In fancy always near, Bewitching with your manners, Enchanting with your face, Subduing me fair angel, With your elegance atid grace. ' 152 Nothing could have pleased Ephraim better than tnese lines and he began to train upon them at once. He repeated them over and over again until he knew them as well as he knew his own soul. This done, he began to practice on the proper pose and gestures to be used in his rehearsal. No pains were spared; for this was to be the occasion of his life. There was to be no more quotations from the legeniary annals of Negro lore; even those racy little lines: " Ez sure ez the stump holds up de vine, Yer am a lobley sweet-heart uv mine." were forgotten, or rather crowded out by Mr Jones' compliments to Eliza's stanza. Ephraim was elated and, ever and anon, he would repeat to himself: " Gwine er courtin' like white folks." Then pausing iu his work he would say: "L,em- me see ef I knows it," and go on: " Er d'eu ! it am neber, Far'well ter yer my dear;",] " Dat am fine, 'ristocratic, I's sure gwine ter spread myself ter night. " Yer is wid me eber, In fancee al'awys near." "Dat's what she is; wonder how dat white man eber kotched my thought. He's sure got er 'zern- ment." These and a thousand other nonsensical ex- 153 pressions fell from Ephraim's lips that afternoon as he went about the stable, happy in the thought that, for ouce in his life, he could give Eliza the enter- tainment her polite manners and station deserved. Mr. Jones, a thorough elocutionist, was an ideal teacher; and Ephraim was an attentive and eager student. He learned his lesson well. Their efforts were in every way a success. Ephraim was happy, and ere the sun was down he had arranged his toilet and was on the way to Eliza's where he arrived a few minutes after eight o'clock. She was in splendid spirits and, as was usual with her, gave him a pleasant time In many re- spects the evening was the most delightful one he had ever witnessed. He was never in better humor; and his wit was fine. Filled with admiration for each other, they laughed and talked and sang; he growing bolder and she losing some of her coyness as the time went by. The Reverend Saunders was busy, " 'Paring a sermont fer de sinner " cong'egation uv Big Bethel," a church of Methodist persuasions down in Sum- merville, and hence did not disturb them with his frequent visits to the sitting room as was customary with him when Ephraim was pieseut. But love in the flesh has a transient effect and joy is as rapid in its flight as time. Again, the clock chimed out twelve, " Midnight ! 154 an* I aint sed my piece yit," he thought, and arose to go. She rose also and, side by side, they walked slowly toward the door, she toying with his hat the while. They stoppped on the steps, andEphraim, as directed by Mr. Jones, lilted her hand to his lips and kissed it, saying as he did so: '' Miss Lizar wont yer conglomerate me wid er replication uv dem sweet lines 'bout de eloquent far' well?" She discovered that Ephraim, under a slight nervous attack, had mixed things a little; bat she was cool and, anxious to please him as well as to coax him into popping the question, threw her soul into expression and said her verses. Then it was that he, taking a dramatic pose, be- gan as follows: 11 Er d'eu ! It am neber, Far'well ter yer my girl, Yer am wid me eber, Ter de end uv dis big worl' Disgustin' wid yerjgraceless, Highfaluntin' gaze, An* hautin' me fer eber, Wid yer outdacious ways." Surprised and disgusted with the poetic outburst of her gallant wooer, she gave him a pitiless look of scorn andin an instant she closed the door. Dazed by her sudden flight, he turned on his heel and stag- 155 gered down the steps, muttering as he went: "Well, now ef dat aint cur'ous ! dah aint no tellin' 'bjut er gal no how. Dat gal can't 'preciate good po^ms. She's jest' igno'nt, dat's all. FAREWELL, AURELIA. I stand in the crowded boulevard, Where the city's horde goes by, And many are they I follow Down the pavement with a sigh, For the like of her whom fate hath borne, Forever and forever off, Across the mystic sea ; The sainted one the angels loved, And took away from me. But nevermore will rise for me Life's stormy seas above, That radiant star which marked my fate, The lady of my love, For the angels envied her to me, And o'er my azure sky they hung The shadow of a pall, Through which her orbs send not their beams, Nor comes answer to my call. Farewell, farewell ! a last farewell !! Incentive to love's dream, Thou radiant being from whose soul A thousand graces gleam, And light thee to thine Aden, home, Where cherubs will embrace thee, love, With ecstacies divine ; Yet know they but adore thee there With passion less than mine. IN AN INSTANT SHE CLOSED THE DOOR. en CD cn CD CO y 51 s% I 1 kf V 2 ^WSOV^ .-UBRARYQ^ AtiE-UNIVER% 0080162845 ; OF-CAIIFO% 1 ^oimm-^