IAC©i TOOIKMieEIR MlMOmilAL 
 
'^^iU^^ 
 
 
 Major Crawford Wortliingtou. 
 
TWO RUNAWAYS 
 
 AND OTHER STORIES 
 
 BY 
 
 HARRY STILLWELL EDWARDS 
 
 Author of ''His Defense, and Other Stories" 
 
 WITH ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 BY E. W. KEMBLE 
 
 NEW YORK 
 THE CENTURY CO. 
 
 1900 
 
4. 
 
 Copyright, 1886-1887-1888-1889, 
 BY THE Century Co. 
 
 The oeVinne Prem. 
 
PEEFACE. 
 
 THE elements dealt with in these stories are 
 the brighter and better parts of the older 
 negro character, and of some of the people 
 whose lives touch or touched his. Naturally 
 the humorous and pathetic features have been 
 prominently brought forth, and this has neces- 
 sitated at times glimpses at the religious side 
 of his life. It should be stated here that this 
 negro is rarely ever irreverent; that, however 
 his words may appear in print, in reality they 
 never suggest anything improper. Those who 
 read them, however amused they may be by his 
 odd and incongruous ideas, methods of expres- 
 sion, and the scenes in which he becomes in- 
 volved, should bear this fact in mind. The 
 prayers, sermons, and hymns given here differ 
 but little from the real, and that chiefly in 
 arrangement. The white characters are mainly 
 
 935S 
 
oddities taken from life, and each story is based 
 upon fact. 
 
 The author takes this opportunity of acknowl- 
 edging the courtesy of Harper and Brothers, in 
 granting permission to include here " Elder 
 Brown's Backslide ^ and " ' Ole Miss ' and 
 * Sweetheart,' " taken from their magazine. The 
 other stories appeared first in The Century 
 Magazine. 
 
 Macon, Gra., July, 1889. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 I Two Runaways 1 
 
 II Elder Brown^s Backslide 33 
 
 III An Idyl of '^Sinkin^ Mount'in" 63 
 
 IV "Ole Miss'' and "Sweetheart" 104 
 
 V Sister Todhunter's Heart 131 
 
 VI "De Valley an' De Shadder" 162 
 
 VII " Mmc " — A Plot 196 
 
 VIII A Born Inventor 209 
 
 IX Tom's Strategy 226 
 
TWO RUNAWAYS 
 AND OTHER STORIES, 
 
TWO EUNAWAYS. 
 
 HAVE little doubt but many people in mid- 
 dle Georgia yet remember Crawford Worth- 
 ington, who, in ante-bellum days, kept open 
 bouse in Baldwin County. Major Worth- 
 ington, as he was called because of some 
 fancied aid he had extended to his country during 
 the difficulty with Mexico, was not a type — unless to 
 be one of many singular characters in a region whose 
 peculiar institutions admitted of the wildest eccen- 
 tricities can constitute a type. He lived in the midst 
 of peace and plenty upon his plantation not many 
 miles from Milledgeville, surrounded by several hun- 
 dred slaves, with whom he was upon singular but easy 
 terms. His broad, rolling fields, his almost boundless 
 pastures, his solemn-fronted and tall-columned house, 
 his comfortable " quarters," where dwelt the negroes, 
 all bespoke prosperity and independence. Independ- 
 ent he was; no prince ever ruled with sway more 
 potent than this bachelor planter, surrounded by his 
 
,2 ,c^ , , ^ , , TWO RUNAWAYS. 
 
 "blocks and acknowledging none other than his own 
 
 This marked character was a man below medium 
 height. His figure inclined very decidedly to portli- 
 ness, and beyond a long narrow mustache and thin 
 imperial of black and gray, his face was clean-shaven. 
 Iron-gray hair in abundance crept out from under the 
 white felt hat he generally wore, and his mixed suit 
 of gray was illumined by a rufled shirt and broad- 
 spreading cuffs of the finest linen. 
 
 Self-willed and eccentric are weak words with which 
 to stamp this gentleman's actions. In the long days 
 of his idleness, when the Legislature was not in ses- 
 sion, the negro was an unfailing source of amusement 
 and study to him, and his sole diversion, for he de- 
 spised books from the day he left college, and beyond 
 a sporting journal and a paper from a neighboring 
 city, he had no periodical. Of course he was a Whig. 
 
 Upon the day which I have selected to open a page 
 in the experience of Major Crawford Worthington he 
 was sitting upon his broad veranda, which swept back 
 from the front around to the shady eastern exposure 
 and overlooked the spacious back yard. Twoscore 
 pickaninnies in short shirts had scrambled in front of 
 him for small silver coins, as he scattered them upon 
 the ground beneath. The tears wrung from him by 
 their contortions and funny postures had dried upon 
 his cheeks, and, weary of the sport, he had turned 
 away the black athletes by means of a few gourds of 
 
TWO RUNAWAYS. 3 
 
 cold water skillfully applied to their half-clad forms, 
 had settled back to enjoy the afternoon, and fell a- 
 dreaming. 
 
 He remembered, in that easy method common to 
 dreams, how years before he had sat npon that same 
 porch watching a favorite old negro catching chick- 
 ens in the yard. " Isam ! " he had said ; and, moving 
 with jerky little motions that seemed always to at- 
 tune themselves to his master's moods as expressed 
 in his tones, Isam had minced up the steps. 
 
 " Isam," he had continued, " you are fixing to run 
 away ! '^ 
 
 He remembered the startled look that swept over 
 the funny little man's countenance, and his answer : 
 
 " Lord mussy. Mass' Craffud, whoev'r hyah de like 
 er dat ! " 
 
 " Yes, sir ; and you are fixing to start right away." 
 
 There had been genuine grief in the negro's voice 
 as he replied : 
 
 " Fo' Gawd, Mass' Craffud, you dun got de wrong 
 nigger dis time. Isam is nigh outer fifty year ole, en' 
 he ain' nev'r lef de place on er run yet. No, sah ! " 
 
 Isam, however, spurred on by the suggestion, had 
 really run off, and the overseer had scoured the 
 country for him in vain. The black was enjoying 
 freedom beyond recall, but one morning while the 
 Major was breakfasting alone, and his two servants 
 who attended the table were busy with fly-brush and 
 waffles, Isam suddenly stood in the doorway. His 
 
4 TWO RUNAWAYS. 
 
 clothes were torn and soiled, and his face wore a 
 hang-dog look that was in truth comical. Since that 
 day old Isam had run away annually about the same 
 time of the year, and this without any apparent cause. 
 
 Evidently this was what the Major was thinking of, 
 for smiles came and went upon his face like shadows 
 under the swaying mimosa. And when at last his 
 eyes fell again upon the old negro : 
 
 *^ Isam ! " he said, just as he had spoken years ago. 
 
 '* Yes, sir,^' and the jerky little tones were the same. 
 
 *' You are fixing to run away, Isam \^ 
 
 " Me ! " and again that reproachful, protesting voice. 
 
 "Yes, you; just as you have for years. You are 
 getting ready to start. I have had my eye on you for 
 a week. But,'^ said the Major, fixing his lips after 
 the Worthington fashion, " I am going to know this 
 time where you go, and why you go.'' 
 
 There was silence a full minute ; then the negro 
 spoke : 
 
 " Mass' Craffud, 'deed en' I dunno 'zactly how et is. 
 Hit jes' sorter strikes me, en' I 'm gone 'fo' I know 't. 
 En' dat 's er solium f ac', sho'." 
 
 " Well," said the Major, " then go when it strikes 
 you. It is a relief to get rid of you occasionally. But 
 if you get off this time without letting me know when 
 you start, I 'U cut your ears off when you come back, 
 — if I don't " 
 
 And Isam believed him. 
 
n. 
 
 IsAM^s annual runaway freak had worried Major 
 Worthington more tlian anything of like importance 
 he had ever confronted. He cared not an iota for his 
 lost time, nor for his bad example ; but it gaUed him 
 to think that there was anything in connection with 
 a negro that he could not fathom. In this old negro 
 he had at last found a cunning and a mystery that 
 evaded his penetration. Study as he might, no satis- 
 factory explanation could ever be secured. Year 
 after year, about the first of July, his factotum failed 
 to appear, and the place that had known him so long 
 knew him no more for a fortnight. 
 
 It was seldom that the Major ever threatened a ser- 
 vant. Never before in his life had a threat been lev- 
 eled at Isam, who was a privileged character about 
 the house. It was not surprising, therefore, that just 
 before daybreak next morning a knock was heard at 
 the Major's window. That individual understood it, 
 and quietly donning his clothes went outside, assured 
 that he would find Isam on hand. He was not mis- 
 taken. 
 
 " Hit 's dun struck me, Mass' Craffud, en' I 's 'bliged 
 ter go," said Isam. 
 
 6 
 
6 TWO RUNAWAYS. 
 
 "Ah ! " said tlie Major 5 " then we ^11 talk it over first.'' 
 
 Isam sat upon the steps, the major in his old 
 rocker, and talk it over they did, until a pale glim- 
 mer trembled in the east. What passed between 
 them no one ever learned ; but finally the Major rose, 
 and preceded by Isam, who bore a pack that gave him 
 the appearance of a sable Chris Kringle, struck out 
 straight across the fence and the fields, disappearing 
 in the woods beyond. Only the hounds knew when 
 they left, and these tugged at their chains with noisy 
 pleadings, but in vain. When day finally rolled in 
 with streaming banners, Woodhaven was without its 
 master, and the overseer, too much accustomed to the 
 eccentricities of that absent power to worry over his 
 sudden departure, reigned in his stead. 
 
 The path of the runaways led first directly past a 
 growth of plum-bushes, an acre in extent, that stood 
 out in the open field, a small forest in itself. This was 
 the burial ground, where without regard to order or 
 system the graves of departed negroes, covered with 
 bits of glass, broken cups, abandoned cans, and other 
 treasures of the trash heap, dotted the shadowy 
 depths. These glimmered faintly in the gray half- 
 light, and Isam shivered slightly as he passed. The 
 movement did not escape the notice of the Major, who 
 smiled grimly as he said : 
 
 " You don't come this way, Isam, when you run off 
 by yourself." 
 
TWO RUNAWAYS. 7 
 
 The sound of a human voice was reassuring, and 
 the negro answered cheerily : 
 
 " Yessir. Ain' nuthin' go'n' ter tech ole Isam. All 
 dem in dere is dun boun' en' sot." 
 
 ^' And what the deuce is ^ bound and sot' ? " 
 
 The Major's inquirj^ betrayed impatience rather 
 than curiosity; he knew weU how secretive is the 
 negro of any class when interrogated in connection 
 with his superstitions. Isam shook his head. 
 
 " Lor' sakes, Mass' Craffud, don' you know all 'bout 
 dat?" 
 
 " No," said the Major testily ; " if I did, I would n't 
 be wasting breath asking a fool nigger." 
 
 "WeU," said Isam, willing to compromise in the 
 interest of peace, " w'en er sperrit gits out'n de flesh, 
 de only way hit can be boun' en' sot es ter plug er 
 tree." He stepped in front of a broken pine near the 
 path, and examined it critically. "Dere 's er plug 
 roun' hyah fur mi'ty nigh ev'y wun dem graves, ef 
 yer knows where ter look." 
 
 " "What do you mean by this nonsense, Isam ? Do 
 you expect me to swallow such stuff ? " 
 
 " Hit 's er f ac', Mass' Craff ud. Dere, now, dere 's er 
 plug, sho' nuff." 
 
 Years before — Major Worthington remembered it 
 then — he had come across a split pine from which a 
 half dozen of these plugs had fallen, and was sur- 
 prised by the scare it had caused on the plantation. 
 
8 TWO BUNA WAYS. 
 
 They were made up of old nails, bits of glass, red pep- 
 per, and tar, and sprinkled with the blood of a chicken. 
 Each plug contained a few hairs from the head of the 
 deceased and a piece of a garment that had been worn 
 next the skin. Each ingredient had an important 
 significance, but exactly what it was no one knew or 
 knows to this day, unless some aged Voodoo lingers 
 in the land and holds the secret 
 
 The Major examined the signs pointed out. Only 
 a practiced eye in broad daylight would have been 
 apt to discover them. He deliberately took out his 
 knife and began to pick at a plug. The change that 
 came over Isam was ludicrous. He clutched the Ma- 
 jor's arm and chattered out : 
 
 " Don^, Mass' Craffud ! don' do it, honey ; you mout 
 let de meanes' nigg'r on de place git loose, en' dere 
 ain' no tellin' w'at 'u'd happ'n. You git de chill 'n' 
 fev'r 'n' cat'piller 'n' bad craps, sho' 's yer born. Oh, 
 Lordy ! Lordy ! Lordy ! Dere, now, t'ank de Lord ! " 
 
 The Major had calmly persisted in his efforts to ex- 
 tract a plug until his knife-blade snapped. With a 
 great pretense of rage he persisted with the broken 
 blade until finally, sure enough, out fell the plug. In 
 an instant the negro had seized it and thrust it in 
 place again, and with his back to the tree was beg- 
 ging so piteously, the Major could not resist. 
 
 " All right, idiot," he said laughingly. " Lead the 
 way ; I won't trouble it." 
 
The Start. 
 
/ TWO BUN AW ATS. 9 
 
 Isam moved off without much ado, and the Major, 
 who was not built for running races and climbing 
 fences, had as much as he could do to keep up. The 
 negro wagged his head ominously as he hurried along. 
 
 " Dere ain' no tellin^ but w'at dat nigger dun got 
 loos' en^ 'gun his curvortin' roun' 'f o' now. One time, 
 lightnin' busted er tree ov'r dere, en' seben er dem 
 plugs drap out 5 en' dat summer de typhoid fev'r 
 struck seben nigg'rs, en' de las' one uv 'm died spang 
 dead. Ain' nev'r had dat fev'r 'fo' er sence on de 
 place. But dey do say," continued Isam, now anxious 
 to communicate his extensive knowledge of the sub- 
 ject, "ef dem folks had n' burn de light'ud fum dat 
 tree, nuthin' 'd happ'n. Bet you can't git er nigg'r 'n 
 Baldwin County ter burn eny mo' uv de lightnin's 
 light'ud, en' mi'ty few go'n' ter rake pine straw 'bout 
 dere." 
 
III. 
 
 The human race has certainly been evolved from a 
 barbaric into a partly civilized state. At odd seasons 
 the old instinct crops out and regains control of ns. 
 Major Worthington had entered upon his brief lapse 
 into savagery, though he did not realize it. Ill- 
 adapted as he was for foot- journeys of considerable 
 length, the flush of new freedom sustained him. 
 
 But the unwonted exercise told at last. A halt 
 must, perforce, soon have been ordered, when Isam 
 plunged over a sharp decline, and indicating a long 
 line of paler green and a denser growth in front, ex- 
 claimed : 
 
 " 'Mos' dere now ! '^ 
 
 The Major knew the place. It was the line of the 
 Oconee River mapped in verdure. Reaching the wel- 
 come shade, he dropped down where Isam had already 
 pitched his bundle. 
 
 Mumbling after the fashion of old darkies, a mean- 
 ing smile upon his lips, which, after all, is but merely 
 thinking aloud, Isam brought from the weU-fiUed 
 depths of his kit a small stone jug. Soon, after cer- 
 tain rites and ceremonies appropriate to the occasion, 
 he approached the Major, and with a triumphant 
 
 10 
 
TWO BUNAWAYS. H 
 
 flourish extended a large tumbler of red liquid from 
 which gracefully arose a small forest of mint. 
 
 ^^ Dun foun' er noo spring," he said ; but the man 
 propped against the cypress was motionless, and his 
 hands were folded peacefully in his lap. Stooping 
 down, Isam peered cautiously under the broad hat- 
 brim, with the whispered ejaculation : " Lor' bless my 
 soul, ef he ain' dun gone ter sleep. I recken dat las' 
 ten-railer war pow'ful wurrin' ter 'r man 'r his fat. 
 Mass' Craffud ! Mass' Craffud ! " No answer came. 
 
 Getting down on his knees, he carefully inserted 
 with a spoon a few drops of the beverage between 
 the lips of the sleeper and allowed them to percolate 
 downward. As the "apple" of the tightened throat 
 darted up and glided down again into place, he whis- 
 pered : 
 
 " Mass' Craffud, es yer dun fainted ? " 
 
 The eyes opened, and the Major sat bolt upright. 
 The next minute he drained off the drink, and sat 
 contemplating the honest face, in whose eyes was a 
 peculiar look. 
 
 " T'ank de goodness ! " exclaimed Isam. " I bin er- 
 hold'n' dis hyah julup hyah fur half er hour. Ain' 
 nev'r known you ter balk at er julup 'fo' en forty 
 yeaurs ! " 
 
 " That came in the right time, Isam, and it 's good 
 whisky," said the Major heartily. "Where did you 
 get it?" 
 
12 TWO BUNA WATS. 
 
 " Yessir/^ chuckled tlie negro, '^ hit 's good ; but hit 
 ain' good ter ask er stray hen w'at 's layen' en your 
 orchud whar she belong, er how many teef she got." 
 
 The Major realized that he had become a guest. 
 He laughed, sank back against the tree, and soon 
 again was lost in slumber. When he awoke there 
 had been a decided change in his surroundings. A 
 low fire burned a few yards away, and sundry flips of 
 bacon were browning in a frying-pan set jauntily 
 thereon, while from the ashes beneath the brown ends 
 of hoe-cakes protruded. 
 
 "T ain' but er bite," said Isam apologetically, ^^but 
 des' wait tell de fish git mixed up wid dem sum er dese 
 days, en' den you see w'at hit es ter be loos' en' free." 
 
 To be loose and free ! The Major fixed his eyes up- 
 on the old negro as he produced tin platters from his 
 kit and transferred the smoking viands, humble but 
 savory, from the frying-pan. The words haunted 
 him, and as the smoke arose there floated upon his 
 vision pictures of boyhood's escapades. Isam had 
 belonged to him from his own infancy, though for the 
 first fifteen years the question of ownership seemed 
 altogether unsettled, for the negro was five or six 
 years the senior. How they had hunted and strayed 
 off, and set gums for rabbits and snares for birds, and 
 robbed nests ! Loose and free ! Old Isam surveyed 
 with proud satisfaction the Major's fierce attack upon 
 the mominor meal. 
 
TWO RUNAWAYS. 13 
 
 " Dere ain' no spring chicken en der pan," lie said 
 sententiously, " but er fuss-rate app'tite kin git des' 
 es good er grip on er flip er bacon es bit kin on er 
 yaller-leg' cbick'n." 
 
 " There is something in that/' said the Major. " Get 
 your flip, you black rascal, and go to eating." But 
 Isam shook his head. 
 
 ^^ No, sah. Wen er nigger feeds he don' wan' no 
 w'ite folks roun\ He wan' ter git off en' mop de pan 
 'thout 'tract'n' 'tention ter hisse'f." 
 
 ^^ It seems to me," said the Major, as he transferred 
 another flip of bacon to his platter, " that it must be 
 mighty hard for an honest nigger to live comfortably 
 out here." 
 
 Isam's face took on a look of personal injury. 
 
 "Er hones' nigg'r," he said, stirring up the ashes 
 and inserting fresh cake, " don' eat no mo' out hyah 
 den he do at home ; not a bit. Rashuns es rashuns 
 ennywhar you fine 'em. En' I hear say," he continued 
 significantly, " w'en folks goes er-vis'tin' dey don' 
 'quire es ter de year-marks uv de pig, w'en back-bone 
 en' spar'-ribs en' chine es sot out." 
 
 " Your idea of etiquette is perfectly sound, Isam." 
 
 " En' der only time w'en folks w'at 's vis'tin' got er 
 right ter git der backs up es w'en de gem'man feed 
 'esse'f high en' feed t' others low." 
 
 With an air of dignity the old negro gathered up 
 the remnants of the spread, the Major having fin- 
 
14 TWO BUNA WAYS. 
 
 ished^ and retired to allay the pangs of an increased 
 appetite; but he was doomed to further delay. A 
 most profane ejaculation fell from the Major's lips 
 and came to his ears. 
 
 ^^ Des' es I said, dere 't is ergin — terbacker, now." 
 He put aside the repast, and grumblingly mvestigated 
 the kit once more. ^' En' I reckon w'en he see dis yer 
 bag er terbacker he go'n' ter want hits ped'gree aU 
 way back." 
 
 Nevertheless he produced it with a handful of corn- 
 cob pipes, and cutting a reed stem handed to the 
 Major the finest smoking outfit in the world. As 
 Isam skilKuUy balanced a glowing coal upon the little 
 heap of tobacco, he concluded : 
 
 ^' Somehow nuther sump'n said 'bout time de run- 
 away noshun struck in, ' Isam, you go'n' ter see 
 com'ny ter-day, en' hit 's go'n' ter be Mass' Craffud ' ; 
 so I des' laid in er extrer bag spesh'ly fur 'm." 
 
 The Major merely drew in and expelled a cloud of 
 smoke. He contented himself with saying, " You are 
 very thoughtful"; and laughing softly to him self, 
 Isam retired to his meal. As he finished, and stuffed 
 his own cob-pipe full of '' natural leaf " and perique — 
 brought along especially for his master — Isam cast 
 his eye skyward. 
 
 " Mos' ten er'clock. Mus' be movin' out er hyah. 
 Bimeby overseer en' houn' be 'long in er hurry. Got 
 ter git whar meat es thicker too. Dat bacon en' hoe- 
 
TWO RUNAWAYS. 15 
 
 cake hard ter beat, but dey don' half fill de bill wid 
 er run' way nigg'r. Des' wait tweU we git er mess er 
 red-belly en' brim, en' I reck'n sho' nuff de fun go'n' 
 ter b'gin ter start. Time we uz go'n', Mass' Craffud." 
 
 The Major rose and followed cheerily. Skirting the 
 swamp, Isam soon found a hog-path, and presently 
 the runaways came in sight of the river. A bateau 
 was tied up in a little branch near by, and in it lay 
 an axe and a paddle. 
 
 "Isam," said the Major as he clambered in, "how 
 does it happen that you find a boat and axe all ready 
 here, and the runaway notion only struck you just 
 before day this morning ! " 
 
 Isam shook his head as he chuckled : 
 
 "Hit ain' de rite time er day ter 'splain t'ings, 
 Mass' Craffud. Dere ain' no tellin' w'at time dem 
 houn' 's go'n' ter strike er hot trail, en' de tree dat you 
 kin cHme ain' go'n' ter Hf you out'n de reach uv a 
 dog." 
 
 The little boat, propelled by vigorous strokes, shot 
 out into the river, and gliding under the willows bore 
 its passengers swiftly downstream. 
 
IV, 
 
 Shut out from sight of the stream stretched a 
 Bermuda sward hemmed in by gigantic trees, in 
 whose boughs the cicadas were singing. The old 
 boyish enthusiasm rose strong within the Major. 
 
 ^'•This is the camp/' he said, '^ and there/' pointing 
 to the log-jammed creek behind him, slowly mingling 
 its clear waters with the river's mud, " is the place for 
 bream and red-bellies." Isam fairly shouted. 
 
 " Dere, now, dey ain' nev'r no use tellin' er man wot 
 knows how ter fish whar ter drap er line. De two go 
 'long tergether. Des' you tek dese hyar lines, Mass> 
 Craffud, en' git reddy f er supper, w'ile I 'ten' ter de res'." 
 
 Throwing open his pack, Isam displayed his simple 
 tackle, hurried around and cut a pole from a neigh- 
 boring brake, and, peeling the bark from a fallen 
 tree, picked out a handful of flatheads. Adjusting 
 himself to a log, the Major cast his line and began 
 to draw in the bream. 
 
 " Dere, now," chuckled Isam, " I ain' seen you do 
 dat sence you was er-court'n Miss 'Mandy Bullard 
 en' we all wuz down ter Sykes's fish-pond." 
 
 But the Major was landing fish, and did not have 
 time to listen to Isam; observing which, that indi- 
 
 16 
 
TWO RUNAWAYS. 17 
 
 vidual, casting an inquiring glance at the sun, seized 
 his axe and went to work in the canebrake. In an 
 incredibly short space of time he had cut down and 
 dragged up enough poles to construct a rude hut, and 
 soon after completed the shanty. Then, with one 
 happy glance at the fugitive perched upon the log 
 contentedly warring with the bream, he glided off 
 into the woods and disappeared from view. 
 
 Despite the popular notion concerning the runaway 
 negro, he never got very far from civilization in his 
 wanderings. The swamp was to him merely a retreat. 
 His smoke-house was elsewhere. When Isam glided 
 away leaving the Major pleasantly engaged, he fol- 
 lowed hog-paths with unerring instinct and recalled 
 landmarks with surprising accuracy. But where he 
 was going and for what are matters that can wait. 
 The Major must not be left alone. 
 
 Isam had not been long gone before the fisherman 
 began to suffer from the perversity of the piscatorial 
 god. The bream and red-belly ceased to bite. The 
 colony had been exhausted or driven away ; and in 
 its place settled a tribe of shining cats. These began 
 to give the Major occupation. His float would go 
 under handsomely; there would be a strong pull, 
 and, resisting steadily, a cat-fish would break into 
 view. 
 
 The Major stood this persecution, it may be, for 
 fifteen minutes; then the patience of the fisherman 
 
18 TWO EUXAWAYS. 
 
 was exhausted. As the hour wore away, I regret to 
 say that the swearing became ahnost continuous, and 
 the Major reached what is generally termed a " state 
 of mind." 
 
 Isam was approaching the camp when the language 
 of the fisher attracted his attention. 
 
 " Oomhoo,'^ he said, stopping to listen. " Sum'n' 
 dun gone wron^ wid Mass' Craffud.^' 
 
 Creeping to the edge of the brake, he beheld his 
 companion engaged in his unequal conflict with the 
 fate that at times overtakes all fishers. Isam ducked 
 back and held his sides. 
 
 '^ Ef dere 's anyt'n' go'n' ter upsot dat kind er man 
 quick, hit 's cats. Des' liss'n now ! " 
 
 The negro peeped out again. The Major was lash- 
 ing the water with an unfortunate victim ; then he 
 saw the irate fisherman drop a huge cat upon the 
 bank, and with the paddle dash him to pieces, and 
 again grind another beneath his heel, and end by 
 kicking the remains far out into the stream. 
 
 Isam reveled in this display of passion until wearied 
 out, and then prepared to make his presence known. 
 Going back a hundred yards into the canebrake, he 
 shouldered his weU-stuffed sack, and lifted his voice 
 
 in song : 
 
 " Sum folks say nigg'r won' steal ; 
 I cauglit one in my co'n-fiel'." 
 
 He was cheerfully giving expression to this sug- 
 
TWO RUNAWAYS. 19 
 
 gestive refrain, when he broke in npon the scene and 
 pretended to stumble over a gasping cat. Down came 
 his bag. 
 
 *^ Dere, now. Ef I cood pick'd de ve'y fish I wanted 
 fur ter mek dat chowder, hit ^u'd er been dis same cat." 
 Isam's teeth shone and his eyes glistened. As he 
 looked about and saw the other unwelcome captives 
 he threw up his hands. 
 
 " Where you catch ^m, Mass' Craff ud ? " 
 
 "Right here," said the Major, regarding him sus- 
 piciously; "and I have n't been catching anything 
 else for an hour." 
 
 " Den don' yer stop now 5 you des' go rite 'long 
 ketchin' 'em, en' we go'n' ter hav' er chowder fum 
 'way back. 'Spec' we '11 want 'bout six more big ones. 
 How long es hit bin sence you had a cat-fish chowd'r, 
 Mass'Craffud?" 
 
 The Major's passion was vanishing. 
 
 " About twenty years, I reckon, Isam." 
 
 " "Well, den, hit ain' go'n' ter be twenty years 'fo' 
 you git ernuther. I 'm go'n' to git ev'n wV dese hyah 
 bigmouf s en 'bout er minit. Lor' ! Lor' ! Es I wuz 
 cummin' 'long back I kep' a-say'n', 'Now Mass' Craffud 
 ain' go'n' ter ketch nuthin' but brim er yaller-belly 
 w'at ain' good fer chowd'r meat, en' all dis co'n en' 
 yinguns gotter be eat des' dry so ' ] en' bless goodness, 
 hyah 's de chowd'r dun ha'f made en' lyin' reddy." And 
 Isam began to shake his own prizes from the bag. 
 
20 TWO BUNA WAYS. 
 
 " Where did you get that corn ? " The Major fixed 
 his eye sternly upon the nonchalant babbler. 
 
 " Dis co'n/' said Isam, shucking an ear, " es w'at 
 dey calls ' vol'nterry co'n.' Hit es co'n w'at cum up 
 fum las' year seed w'at de river en' de hog scatter. 
 En' dese yinguns es uv de wil' kine w'at es always up 
 en' er-doin'." The Major made no reply, but fixing 
 a newflathead on his hook cast it far into the stream. 
 
 Above a blazing fire Isam soon had his kettle 
 swinging, and within its depths sputtered great 
 chunks of fish as they rose and sank in a lake of 
 green corn and onions. With the earnestness of a 
 wizard preparing his strange concoctions, he hung 
 over the boiling mixture, adding here a pinch of pep- 
 per and there a dash of salt. As he stirred the SLvory 
 mess he sang a cheerful plantation ditty. The dusk 
 of evening had fallen, and the red light of the flames 
 brought out his figure in bold relief. He seemed a 
 veritable genius of the swamp, and, lured from his 
 sport by the cheerful picture and the odor of the 
 meal, the Major cast his line down and strode into the 
 lighted circle. 
 
To OTHER pens must be left the record of the run- 
 aways' every-day life. These pages would not hold 
 the true chronicle of this novel expedition. Here 
 only is space enough to deal with the prominent feat- 
 ures and string them upon a particolored thread. 
 Day after day the fishermen plied their rods. Day 
 after day the kettle and the skillet and the coals gave 
 forth their dainties. Fish-fries decked the table one 
 day; a split rabbit, snared in the canebrake, broiled 
 to a turn, served for the next ; even a tender shote 
 yielded up his innocent young life, and chowders 
 came thick and fast. 
 
 But Isam was no longer the chief factor in the 
 daily sins committed. Painful as the truth may 
 seem, it must be told. The portly Major became 
 accessory before the fact as well as after. And worse, 
 he became actively particeps criminis. He learned to 
 creep into the spreading field of " voluntary corn '^ — 
 which, by the way, invaded the swamp lands, and rose 
 in columns of surprising regularity — and to load a 
 bag with the juicy ears. He renewed his early skill, 
 and crawled behind snake-fences to abstract dew- 
 
 21 
 
22 TWO RUNAWAYS. 
 
 christened watermelons. In short, he gave way to sav- 
 agery J for the time being civilization knew him not. 
 
 No especial time for breaking camp had been set, 
 but the time was approaching, and the signs were 
 evident. The whisky had long since vanished, and 
 the tobacco was threatening to follow the whisky, 
 when an event occurred which left a tradition that 
 old folks in middle Georgia yet tell with tear-dimmed 
 eyes and straining sides. 
 
 The worthy pair had been foraging for dinner, and 
 were returning heavily laden. The Major bore a sack 
 of corn, and Isam led the way with three watermelons. 
 Unless the reader has attempted to carry three water- 
 melons, he will never know the labor that Isam had 
 imposed upon himself. The two had just reached the 
 edge of the canebrake, beyond which lay the camp, 
 and were entering the narrow path, when a magnifi- 
 cent buck came sweeping through, and collided with 
 Isam with such force and suddenness as to crush and 
 spatter his watermelons into a pitiful ruin, and throw 
 the negro violently to the ground. Instantly the 
 frightened man seized the threatening antlers, and 
 held on, yelling lustily for help. The deer made 
 several ineffectual efforts to free himself, during 
 which he dragged the negro right and left with- 
 out difficulty, but, finding escape impossible, turned 
 fiercely upon his unwilling captor, and tried to drive 
 the terrible horns through his writhing body. 
 
TWO RUNAWAYS. 23 
 
 ^^ O Lord, O Lord ! '' screamed Isam ; " O Lord, 
 Mass' Craffud, cum holp me tu'n dis buck loos'." 
 
 The laugh died away from Major Worthington's 
 lips. None knew better than he the danger into 
 which Isam had plunged. Not a stick, brush, stone, 
 or weapon of any description was at hand, except 
 his small pocket-knife. Hastily opening that, he 
 rushed upon the deer. Isam's eyes were bursting 
 from their sockets, and appealed piteously for the 
 help his stentorian voice was frantically imploring 
 until the woods rang with his agony. Major Worth- 
 ington caught the nearest antler with his left hand, 
 and made a fierce lunge at the animal's throat. But 
 the knife's point was missing, and only a trifling 
 wound was inflicted. The next instant the deer met 
 the new attack with a rush that carried Isam with it, 
 and thrust the Major to the ground, the knife falling 
 out of reach. Seeing this, the negro let go his hold, 
 rolled out of the way, and with a mighty effort liter- 
 ally ran upon the top of a branching haw-bush, where 
 he lay spread out like a bat, and moaning piteously. 
 
 " Stick ter 'im. Mass' Craffud, stick ter 'im ! Wo' 
 deer ! wo' deer ! Stick ter 'im. Mass' Craffud ! " 
 
 And the Major stuck. Retaining his presence of 
 mind, he threw his left arm over the deer's neck, and, 
 still holding with his right the antler, looked about 
 for Isam, who had so mysteriously disappeared. 
 Something like the hold he had had more than once 
 
24 TWO RUNAWAYS. 
 
 in boyhood served him well in school combats. But 
 he had never tried to hold a full-grown buck, and so 
 he somewhat anxiously searched the scene for the 
 valiant negro. The first words he heard distinctly 
 were: 
 
 " Stick ter 'im, Mass' Craffud, stick ter 'im. Hit 's 
 better fur one ter die den bof e ! Hole 'im, Mass' Craf- 
 f ud, hole 'im ! Wo' deer ! wo' deer ! Stick ter 'im, 
 Mass' Craffud. Steddy ! Look out fur es ho'n ! Wo' 
 deer I Steddy, Mass' Craff ud ! " 
 
 By this time the struggles of the beast had again 
 ceased, and, wearied from his double encounter, he 
 stood with his head pulled down to the ground half 
 astride the desperate man, who was holding on for 
 life. Whether Major Worthington was frightened or 
 not it is hard to say ; probably he was ; but there was 
 no doubt about his being angry when he saw Isam 
 spread out in the haw-bush, and heard his address. 
 His face was livid with rage, and foam and sweat 
 mingled upon it. As soon as he caught his breath, 
 he burst forth with : 
 
 " You infernal black rascal ! why don't you come — 
 down out of that — bush and help — me?" Isam's 
 face was pitiful in its expression. His teeth chattered, 
 and he fairly shook the bush with his trembling. 
 
 " Don', Mass' Craffud, don' ; you ain' got no time ter 
 cuss now. Lif up yo' voice en' pray ! Lord, Lord, ef 
 ev'r er man had er call ter pray, you dun got it now." 
 
--^-A 
 
TWO BUNA WAYS. 25 
 
 For one instant it looked as if the Major would 
 abandon his attempt to hold the deer and turn his 
 attention to the bushj but he did not have an, oppor- 
 tunity to carry out such a resolution. Revived by his 
 moment's rest, the buck made another effort for free- 
 dom and revenge. He dragged his corpulent captor 
 in a circle, he rolled him on the sod, he fell over him, 
 pounded him, and stamped, but without relief. The 
 desperate man clung to his hold with a grip that could 
 not be broken. It was the grip of death ; indeed, it 
 was now a question of life or death. 
 
 Wearied down at last, the deer gave himseK and 
 victim another breathing- spell, and the Major con- 
 tinued : 
 
 "If ever — I get loose from this — brute, — you in- 
 fernal scoundrel, — I'LL not leave a — whole bone in 
 your body ! '' 
 
 " Don' say dat, Mass' Craffud, don' ! You must n't 
 let de sun go down on yo' wraf ! O Lord ! " he con- 
 tinued, getting on his all-fours and as near a reverent 
 posture as the circumstances would admit of, " don' 
 you mine nuth'n' he es er-sayin' now, cos he ain' 'spon- 
 s'bl'. Lord, ef de bes' aingil you got wuz down dere 
 in his fix, en' er fool deer wuz er-straddl'n' 'im, dey 
 ain' no teU'n' w'at 'u'd happ'n, er w'at sorter langwidge 
 he 'd let loos'. Wo' deer! wo' deer! Stick ter 'im. 
 Mass' Craffud, stick ter 'im. Steddy, deer ! Steddy, 
 Mass' Craffud ! " 
 
26 TWO RUNAWAYS. 
 
 The Major got another resting-spell. By this time 
 his breath was almost gone, and his anger had given 
 way to unmistakable apprehension. He realized that 
 he was in a most desperate plight, and that the only 
 hope of rescue lay in the frightened negro up in the 
 haw-bush. He changed his tactics when the deer 
 rested again. 
 
 ^^ Isam/' he said gently. 
 
 " Yes, honey.'' 
 
 " Isam, come and help me, old fellow.'' 
 
 " Good Gawd, Mass' Craffud," said the negro earn- 
 estly, " dere ain' nuthin' I wood n' do fur you, but hit 's 
 better fur one ter die 'n two. Hit 's a long sight 
 better." 
 
 '^ But there is no danger, Isam ; none whatever. 
 Just you come down and with your knife hamstring 
 the brute. I '11 hold him." 
 
 " No, sah ! no, sah ! no, sah ! " said Isam loudly and 
 with growing earnestness. " No, sah ! it won' wuk. 
 No, sah ! You er in fur hit now. Mass' Craffud, en' et 
 can't be holped. Dere ain' nuthin' kin save yer but 
 de good Lord, en' he ain' go'n' ter, less'n you ax 'im 
 'umble like, en' er-b'liev'n' en es mussy. I prayed 
 w'en I wuz down dere. Mass' Craffud, dat I did, en' 
 look w'at happ'n. Did n' he sen' you like er aingil, en' 
 did n' he git me up hyah safe en' wholesum ? Dat he 
 did, en' he nev'r 'spec' dis nigg'r war go'n' ter fling 
 'esse'f und'r dat deer arter he trouble hisse'f to show 
 
TWO RUNAWAYS. 27 
 
 'im up hyah. Stick ter 'im, Mass' Craffud, stick ter 
 'im. Wo' deer ! wo' deer ! Look out fur es ho'n ! 
 Stick ter 'im, Mass' Craffud. Dere, now — t'ank de 
 Lord ! " 
 
 Again the Major got a breathing-spell. The deer 
 in his struggles had gotten under the haw-bush, and 
 the Major renewed his earnest negotiations. 
 
 "Isam," he said, as soon as his condition would 
 allow of conversation, ^4f you will get down — and 
 cut this brute's legs — I will give you your freedom." 
 
 Isam's only answer was a groan. 
 
 "And fifty acres — of land." Again that pitiful 
 moan. 
 
 *^ And — a mule and a — year's rations." The Major 
 paused from force of circumstances. After a while 
 the answer came : 
 
 "Mass' Craffud!" 
 
 "Well?^' 
 
 " You know dis nigg'r b'en hard-work'n' en' hones' 
 en' look atter you en' yo'n all es life." 
 
 "Yes, Isam," said the Major, "you have been— a 
 faithful, honest— nigger." There was another pause. 
 Perhaps this was too much for Isam. But he con- 
 tinued after a little while : 
 
 " Well, lemme tell you, honey, dere ain' nuthin' you 
 got er kin git w'at '11 tem' dis nigg'r ter git down dere. 
 W'y," and his voice assumed a most earnest and 
 argumentative tone, "'deed 'n' hit 'u'd be 'sultin' de 
 
28 TWO RUNAWAYS. 
 
 Lord. Ain' lie dun got me up hyah out'n de way, en' 
 don' he 'spec' me fur ter stay ? You reck'n lie got 
 nuth'n' 't all ter do but keep puttin' Isum back up er 
 tree ? No, sab ! be dun 'ten' ter me, en' ef you got 
 enny dif culty down dere, you en' de deer kin figbt it 
 out. Hit 's my bizness des' ter keep er-prayin'. Wo' 
 deer ! wo' deer ! Steddy, Mass' Craffud. Dere, now — 
 t'ankdeLord!" 
 
 Again the Major defeated the beast's struggles, and 
 there came a truce. But the man was well-nigh ex- 
 hausted, and saw that unless something was done in 
 his behalf he must soon yield up the fight. Some- 
 thing like a spasm of fear flashed over his face, and in 
 the glance he cast about him there was the one panic- 
 stricken appeal that all men yield to at some time. It 
 was hard to die there by the terrible horns of the 
 beast astride him, whose eyes glared into his, and 
 whose hot breath was in his face. What a death ! 
 
 But the next instant he was calm and cautious. 
 There came to his assistance his fine knowledge of 
 the negro character. 
 
 "Isam," he said, slowly and impressively. But 
 Isam was praying. The Major could hardly trust his 
 ears when he heard the words. 
 
 " But, Lord, don' let 'm peer'sh 'fo' yo' eyes. He 's 
 b'en er bad man. He cuss 'n' sware, 'n' play keerds, 
 'n' bet on horse-race, 'n' drink whisky " 
 
 "Isam " 
 
TWO BUXAWAYS. 29 
 
 " En' lie steal — ^oo6.7iess, he tek ter steaPn' like er 
 duck ter water. Roast'n' yers, watermilluns, chick'n 
 — niithin' too bad f ui* 'im. " 
 
 ^^sam " 
 
 ^"T ain' like er nigger steaPn', Lord ; dey dun know 
 no better, en' can't git t'ings enny er-way, while he got 
 money ; but don' let 'im peer'sh rite 'f o' yo' eyes. Tek 
 him by de slack er es briches en' shek 'm ov'r de 
 flames, but don' let 'im drap " 
 
 '^sam!" 
 
 The word came upward in tones of thunder. Even 
 Isam was obliged to regard it. He did so from force 
 of habit. 
 
 " Yessir." 
 
 Then he sobbed forth : '' Oh, Lordy, Lordy, I t'ot 
 we wuz dun home ag'in." 
 
 "No, sir," said the Major sternly, "we are not at 
 home, and I '11 never get there. I am going to die." 
 
 Isam gave a yell that ought to have been heard a 
 mile away. 
 
 " Oh, don' let 'im die ! Skeer 'im, skeer 'im. Lord, 
 but don' let 'im die ! " 
 
 "Yes," continued the Major, "I am going to die; 
 but let me tell you something, Isam. I have been 
 looking into this beast's eyes until I recognize him." 
 A sound came from the haw-bush like the hiss of a 
 snake, as the negro with ashen face and beaded brow 
 gasped out an unintelligible word. The right chord 
 
30 TWO RUNAWAYS. 
 
 had been touched at last. " You remember Dr. 
 Sam ? " Isam's only reply was a moan that betrayed 
 an agony too deep for expression. " Well, this is 
 Dr. Sam ; he got loose the other day when the plug 
 fell out, and he and I will never give you another 
 hour of peace as long as you live ." 
 
 The sentence was never finished. With a shriek 
 that was blood-curdling in its intensity of fear and 
 horror, the negro came crashing down through the 
 bush with his hands full of leaves, straight upon the 
 deer. 
 
 This was the crisis. 
 
 The frightened animal made one desperate plunge, 
 taking the startled Major by surprise, and the next 
 instant found himself free. He did not remain upon 
 the scene, or he would have beheld the teriified negro 
 get upon his feet, run round in a frenzy of terror, and 
 close his last circle at the foot of the bush, up which 
 he scurried again like a squirrel, old as he was. The 
 Major lay flat upon his back, after trying in vain to 
 rise. Then the reaction came. He fixed his eye upon 
 the negro above and laughed until the tears washed 
 the dirt from his face -, and Isam, holding his head up 
 so that his vision could encompass the narrow hori- 
 zon, said slowly and impressively : 
 
 ^^ Mass' Craffud, ef de Lord had n't 'sist'd on Isum 
 cum'n' down ter run dat deer off, 'spec' by dis time 
 you 'd been er-flopp'n' yo' wings up yander, er else 
 
TWO BUNAWAYS. 31 
 
 sput^n' on er grindi'on down yander/^ And from his 
 elevated perch Isam indicated the two extremes of 
 eternity with an eloquent sweep of his hand. 
 
 But the Major had small time for laughter or re- 
 crimination. In the distance there rang out faintly 
 the full-mouthed cry of a hound. Isam heard it. For 
 him it was at once a welcome and a stimulating sound. 
 Gliding to the ground^ he helped the wearied Major 
 to his feet, and started on the run for the boat, cry- 
 ing: 
 
 " Run, Mass' Craffud ! wors' 'n er deer 's cummin^ 
 Hit 's dem folks w'at know about dat corn en' water- 
 miUuns, en' yer can't 'splain nuthin' ter er houn' dog." 
 
 Broken down as he was, the Major realized that 
 there was wisdom in the negro's words, and followed 
 as best he could. The camp traps were thrown into 
 the boat, and the little bark was launched. A 
 minute later the form of a great thirsty-looking 
 hound, the runaways' Mte noire, appeared on the 
 scene. But the hunters who came after found naught 
 beyond the signs of a camp, if they found anything, 
 and soon followed the hound, which had regained the 
 trail of the buck, and yelping passed into the dis- 
 tance. The boat had long since passed the bend. 
 
 How Isam ever settled his difficulty needs no ex- 
 planation. But it may interest the reader to know 
 that one day he bore a message and a check that set- 
 tled the corn and melon debt j and they tell it in mid- 
 
32 TWO RUNAWAYS. 
 
 die Georgia that every year thereafter, until the war- 
 cloud broke over the land, whenever the catalpa worm 
 crept upon the leaf two runaways fled from Wood- 
 haven and dwelt in the swamps, " loos' en free." 
 
ELDER BROWN'S BACKSLIDE. 
 
 I. 
 
 ^LDER BROWN told his wife good-by 
 at the farm-house door as mechanically 
 L^)J ^^ though his proposed trip to Macon, 
 ^j|, ten miles away, was an every-day affair, 
 while as a matter of fact many years 
 had elapsed since unaccompanied he set foot in the 
 city. He did not kiss her. Many very good men 
 never kiss their wives. But small blame attaches to 
 the elder for his omission on this occasion, since his 
 wife had long ago discouraged all amorous demon- 
 strations on the part of her liege lord, and at this par- 
 ticular moment was filling the parting moments with 
 a rattling list of directions concerning thread, but- 
 tons, hooks, needles, and all the many etceteras of an 
 industrious housewife's basket. The elder was labori- 
 ously assorting these postscript commissions in his 
 memory, well knowing that to return with any one 
 of them neglected would cause trouble in the family 
 circle. 
 
 He mounted his patient steed that stood sleepily 
 motionless in the warm sunlight, with his great 
 
34 ELDER BROWN'S BACKSLIDE. 
 
 pointed ears displayed to the right and left, as 
 though their owner had grown tired of the life 
 burden their weight inflicted upon him, and was, 
 old soldier fashion, ready to forego the once rigid 
 alertness of early training for the pleasures of fre- 
 quent rest on arms. 
 
 ^^ And, Elder, don^t you f orgit them caliper scraps, 
 or you '11 be wantin' kiver soon an' no kiver will be a- 
 comin'." 
 
 Elder Brown did not turn his head, but merely let 
 the whip hand, which had been checked in its back- 
 ward motion, fall as he answered mechanically. The 
 beast he bestrode responded with a rapid whisking 
 of its tail and a great show of effort, as it ambled off 
 down the sandy road, the rider's long legs seeming 
 now and then to touch the ground. 
 
 But as the zigzag panels of the rail fence crept be- 
 hind him, and he felt the freedom of the morning 
 beginning to act upon his well-trained blood, the 
 mechanical manner of the old man's mind gave place 
 to a mild exuberance. A weight seemed to be lifting 
 from it ounce by ounce as the fence panels, the weedy 
 corners, the persimmon sprouts, and sassafras bushes 
 crept away behind him, so that by the time a mile lay 
 between him and the life partner of his joys and sor- 
 rows he was in a reasonably contented frame of mind, 
 and still improving. 
 
 It was a queer figure that crept along the road that 
 
ELDER BROWN'S BACKSLIDE. 35 
 
 cheery May morning. It was tall and gaunt, and had 
 been for tbii'ty years or more. The long head, bald 
 on top, covered behind with iron-gray hair, and in 
 front with a short tangled growth that curled and 
 kinked in every direction, was surmounted by an old- 
 fashioned stove-pipe hat, worn and stained, but emi- 
 nently impressive. An old-fashioned Henry Clay 
 cloth coat, stained and threadbare, divided itself im- 
 partially over the donkey's back and dangled on his 
 sides. This was all that remained of the elder's wed- 
 ding suit of forty years ago. Only constant care, 
 and use of late years limited to extra occasions, had 
 preserved it so long. The trousers had soon parted 
 company with their friends. The substitutes were 
 red jeans, which, while they did not well match his 
 court costume, were better able to withstand the old 
 man's abuse, for if, in addition to his frequent relig- 
 ious excursions astride his beast, there ever was a 
 man who was fond of sitting down with his feet 
 higher than his head, it was this self -same Elder 
 Brown. 
 
 The morning expanded, and the old man expanded 
 with it; for, while a vigorous leader in his church, 
 the elder at home was, it must be admitted, an un- 
 complaining slave. To the intense astonishment of 
 the beast he rode, there came new vigor into the 
 whacks which fell upon his flanks 5 and the beast al- 
 lowed astonishment to surprise him into real life and 
 
36 ELDER BROWN'S BACKSLIDE. 
 
 decided motion. Somewhere in the elder's expanding 
 soul a tune had begun to ring. Possibly he took up the 
 far faint tune that came from the straggling gang of 
 negroes away off in the field, as they slowly chopped 
 amid the thread-like rows of cotton plants which lined 
 the level ground, for the melody he hummed softly 
 and then sang strongly, in the quavering, catchy 
 tones of a good old country churchman, was, ^' I 'm 
 glad salvation 's free.'^ 
 
 It was during the singing of this hymn that Elder 
 Brown's regular motion-inspiring strokes were for 
 the first time varied. He began to hold his hickory 
 up at certain pauses in the melody, and beat the 
 changes upon the sides of his astonished steed. The 
 chorus under this arrangement was, 
 
 '* I 'm glad salvation 'sfree, 
 I 'm glad salvation 's free, 
 I 'm glad salvation '^free for all, 
 I 'm glad salvation ^^free." 
 
 Wherever there is an italic, the hickory descended. 
 It fell about as regularly and after the fashion of the 
 stick beating upon the bass drum during a funeral 
 march. But the beast, although convinced that 
 something serious was impending, did not consider a 
 funeral march appropriate for the occasion. He pro- 
 tested, at first, with vigorous whiskings of his tail 
 and a rapid shifting of his ears. Finding these dem- 
 onstrations unavailing, and convinced that some ur- 
 
ELDER BROWN'S BACKSLIDE. 37 
 
 gent cause for hurry had suddenly invaded the elder's 
 serenity as Jt had his own, he began to cover the 
 ground with frantic leaps that would have surprised 
 his owner could he have realized what was going on. 
 But Elder Brown's eyes were half closed, and he was 
 singing at the top of his voice. Lost in a trance of 
 divine exaltation, for he felt the effects of the invig- 
 orating motion, bent only on making the air ring with 
 the lines which he dimly imagined were drawing upon 
 him the eyes of the whole female congregation, he 
 was supremely unconscious that his beast was hurry- 
 ing. And thus the excursion proceeded, until sud- 
 denly a shote, surprised in his calm search for roots 
 in a fence corner, darted into the road, and stood for 
 an instant gazing upon the new-comers with that 
 idiotic stare which only a pig can imitate. The sud- 
 den appearance of this unlooked-for apparition acted 
 strongly upon the donkey. With one supreme effort 
 he collected himself into a motionless mass of matter, 
 bracing his front legs wide apart ] that is to say, he 
 stopped short. There he stood, returning the pig's 
 idiotic stare with an interest which must have led to 
 the presumption that never before in all his varied 
 life had he seen such a singular little creature. End 
 over end went the man of prayer, finally bringing up 
 fuU. length in the sand, striking just as he should 
 have shouted ^^ free " for the fourth time in his glo- 
 rious chorus. 
 
38 ELDER BROWN'S BACKSLIDE. 
 
 Fully convinced that his alarm had been well 
 founded, the shote sped out from under the gigantic 
 missile hurled at him by the donkey, and scampered 
 down the road, turning first one ear and then the 
 other to detect any sounds of pursuit. The donkey, 
 also convinced that the object before which he had 
 halted was supernatural, started back violently upon 
 seeing it apparently turn to a man. But seeing that 
 it had turned to nothing but a man, he wandered up 
 into the deserted fence corner, and began to nibble 
 refreshment from a scrub oak. 
 
 For a moment the elder gazed up into the sky, half 
 impressed with the idea that the camp-meeting plat- 
 form had given way. But the truth forced its way to 
 the front in his disordered understanding at last, and 
 with painful dignity he staggered into an upright 
 position, and regained his beaver. He was shocked 
 again. Never before in all the long years it had 
 served him had he seen it in such shape. The 
 truth is. Elder Brown had never before tried to stand 
 on his head in it. As calmly as possible he began to 
 straighten it out, caring but little for the dust upon 
 his garments. The beaver was his special crown of 
 dignity. To lose it was to be reduced to a level with 
 the common wool-hat herd. He did his best, pulling, 
 pressing, and pushing, but the hat did not look nat- 
 ural when he had finished. It seemed to have been 
 laid off into counties, sections, and town-lots. Like 
 
ELDER BROWN'S BACKSLIDE. 39 
 
 a well-cut jewel, it had a face for him, view it from 
 whatever point he chose, a quality which so impressed 
 him that a lump gathered in his throat, and his eyes 
 winked vigorously. 
 
 Elder Brown was not, however, a man for tears. 
 He was a man of action. The sudden vision which 
 met his wandering gaze, the donkey calmly chewing 
 scrub buds, with the green juice already oozing from 
 the corners of his frothy mouth, acted upon him like 
 magic. He was, after all, only human, and when he 
 got hands upon a piece of brush, he thrashed the 
 poor beast until it seemed as though even its already 
 half -tanned hide would be eternally ruined. Thor- 
 oughly exhausted at last, he wearily straddled his 
 saddle, and with his chin upon his breast resumed the 
 early morning tenor of his way. 
 
11. 
 
 " G-OOD-MORNIN^, sir." 
 
 Elder Brown leaned over the little pine picket 
 which divided the book-keepers' department of a 
 Macon warehouse from the room in general, and sur- 
 veyed the well-dressed back of a gentleman who was 
 busily figuring at a desk within. The apartment was 
 carpetless, and the dust of a decade lay deep on the 
 old books, shelves, and the f amiUar advertisements of 
 guano and fertilizers which decorated the room. An 
 old stove, rusty with the nicotine contributed by 
 farmers during the previous season while waiting by 
 its glowing sides for their cotton to be sold, stood 
 straight up in a bed of sand, and festoons of cobwebs 
 clung to the upper sashes of the murky windows. 
 The lower sash of one window had been raised, and 
 in the yard without, nearly an acre in extent, lay a 
 few bales of cotton, with jagged holes in their ends, 
 just as the sampler had left them. Elder Brown had 
 time to notice all these familiar points, for the figure 
 at the desk kept serenely at its task, and deigned no 
 reply. 
 
 " Good-mornin', sir,'' said Elder Brown again, in his 
 most dignified tones. " Is Mr. Thomas in ? " 
 
 ^0 
 
ELDER BROWN'S BACKSLIDE. 41 
 
 " Good-morning, sir," said the figure. " I '11 wait 
 on you in a minute." The minute passed, and four 
 more joined it. Then the desk man turned. 
 
 " Well, sir, what can I do for you ? " 
 
 The elder was not in the best of humor when he ar- 
 rived, and his state of mind had not improved. He 
 waited full a minute as he surveyed the man of busi- 
 ness. 
 
 '^I thought I mout be able to make some arrange- 
 ments with you to git some money, but I reckon I 
 was mistaken." The warehouseman came nearer. 
 
 ^' This is Mr. Brown, I believe. I did not recognize 
 you at once. You are not in often to see us." 
 
 " No ; my wife usually 'tends to the town bizness, 
 while I run the church and farm. Got a fall from my 
 donkey this morning," he said, noticing a quizzical, 
 interrogating look upon the face before him, "and 
 fell squar' on the hat." He made a pretense of smooth- 
 ing it. The man of business had already lost interest. 
 
 " How much money will you want, Mr. Brown ! " 
 
 "Well, about seven hundred dollars," said the 
 elder, replacing his hat, and turning a furtive look 
 upon the warehouseman. The other was tapping 
 with his pencil upon the little shelf lying across the 
 rail. 
 
 " I can get you five hundred." 
 
 "But I oughter have seven." 
 
 " Can't arrange for that amount. Wait till later in 
 
42 ELBEB BROWN'S BACKSLIDE, 
 
 the season, and come again. Money is very tight 
 now. How much cotton will you raise % " 
 
 " Well, I count on a hundred bales. An' you can't 
 git the sev'n hundr'd dollars ? " 
 
 '' Like to oblige you, but can't right now ] will fix it 
 for you later on." 
 
 " Well," said the elder, slowly, " fix up the papers 
 for five, an' I ^11 make it go as far as possible." 
 
 The papers were drawn. A note was made out for 
 $552.50, for the interest was at one and a half per 
 cent, for seven months, and a mortgage on ten mules 
 belonging to the elder was drawn and signed. The 
 elder then promised to send his cotton to the wai^e- 
 house to be sold in the fall, and with a curt "Anything 
 else ? " and a " Thankee, that 's all," the two parted. 
 
 Elder Brown now made an effort to recall the sup- 
 plemental commissions shouted to him upon his de- 
 parture, intending to execute them first, and then 
 take his written list item by item. His mental resolves 
 had just reached this point when a new thought made 
 itseK known. Passers-by were puzzled to see the old 
 man suddenly snatch his head-piece off and peer with 
 an intent and awe-struck air into its irregular cav- 
 ern. Some of them were shocked when he suddenly 
 and vigorously ejaculated, 
 
 " Hannah-Maria- Jemimy ! goldarn an' blue blazes !" 
 
 He had suddenly remembered having placed his 
 memoranda in that hat, and as he studied its empty 
 
ELDER BROWN'S BACKSLIDE. 43 
 
 depths his mind pictured the important scrap flutter- 
 ing along the sandy scene of his early-morning tum- 
 ble. It was this that caused him to graze an oath 
 with less margin than he had allowed himself in 
 twenty years. What would the old lady say ? , 
 
 Alas ! Elder Brown knew too well. What she 
 would not say was what puzzled him. But as he 
 stood bare-headed in the sunlight a sense of utter 
 desolation came and dwelt with him. His eye rested 
 upon sleeping Balaam anchored to a post in the street, 
 and so, as he recalled the treachery that lay at the 
 base of all his afiliction, gloom was added to the deso- 
 lation. 
 
 To turn back and search for the lost paper would 
 have been worse than useless. Only one course was 
 open to him, and at it went the leader of his people. 
 He called at the grocery ; he invaded the recesses of 
 the dry-goods establishments j he ransacked the hard- 
 ware stores 5 and wherever he went he made life a 
 burden for the clerks, overhauling show-cases and 
 pulling down whole shelves of stock. Occasionally 
 an item of his memoranda would come to light, and 
 thrusting his hand into his capacious pocket, where 
 lay the proceeds of his check, he would pay for it on 
 the spot, and insist on having it rolled up. To the 
 suggestion of the slave whom he had in charge for 
 the time being, that the articles be laid aside until he 
 had finished, he would not listen. 
 
44 ELDER BROWN'S BACKSLIDE. 
 
 " Now you look here, sonny/' he said, in the dry- 
 goods store ; ^^ I 'm conducting this revival, an' I don't 
 need no help in my line. Just you tie them stockin's 
 up an' lemme have 'em. Then I hnow I 've got 'em." 
 As each purchase was promptly paid for, and change 
 had to be secured, the clerk earned his salary for that 
 day at least. 
 
 So it was when, near the heat of the day, the good 
 man arrived at the drug-store, the last and only un- 
 visited division of trade, he made his appearance 
 equipped with half a hundred packages, which nes- 
 tled in his arms and bulged out about the sections of 
 his clothing that boasted of pockets. As he deposited 
 his deck-load upon the counter, great drops of per- 
 spiration rolled down his face and over his water- 
 logged collar to the floor. 
 
 There was a something exquisitely refreshing in the 
 great glasses of foaming soda that a spruce young 
 man was drawing from a marble fountain, above 
 which half a dozen polar bears in an ambitious print 
 were disporting themselves. There came a break in 
 the run of customers, and the spruce young man, 
 having swept the foam from the marble, dexterously 
 lifted a glass from the revolving rack which had rinsed 
 it with a fierce little stream of water, and asked me- 
 chanically, as he caught the intense look of the per- 
 spiring elder, " What schrup, sir ? " 
 
 Now it had not occurred to the elder to drink soda, 
 
ELDER BROWN'S BACKSLIDE, 45 
 
 but the suggestion, coming as it did in his exhausted 
 state, was overpowering. He drew near awkwardly, 
 put on his glasses, and examined the list of syrups 
 with great care. The young man, being for the 
 moment at leisure, surveyed critically the gaunt fig- 
 ure, the faded bandana, the antique claw-hammer 
 coat, and the battered stove-pipe hat, with a gradually 
 relaxing countenance. He even called the prescrip- 
 tion clerk's attention by a cough and a quick jerk of 
 the thumb. The prescription clerk smiled feebly, and 
 continued his assaults upon a piece of blue mass. 
 
 "I reckon," said the elder, resting his hands upon 
 his knees and bending down to the list, ^^you may 
 gimme sassprilla an' a little strawberry. Sassprilla 's 
 good for the blood this time er year, an' strawberry 's 
 good any time." 
 
 The spruce young man let the syrup stream into 
 the glass as he smiled affably. Thinking, perhaps, to 
 draw out the odd character, he ventured upon a jest 
 himself, repeating a pun invented by the man who 
 made the first soda fountain. With a sweep of his 
 arm he cleared away the swarm of insects as he re- 
 marked, " People who like a fly in theirs are easily 
 accommodated." 
 
 It was from sheer good-nature only that Elder 
 Brown replied, with his usual broad social smile, 
 ^* Well, a fly now an' then don't hurt nobody." 
 
 Now if there is anybody in the world who prides 
 
46 ELDER BBOWN'S BACKSLIDE. 
 
 himself on knowing a thing or two, it is the spruce 
 young man who presides over a soda fountain. This 
 particular young gentleman did not even deem a reply 
 necessary. He vanished an instant, and when he re- 
 turned a close observer might have seen that the mix- 
 ture in the glass he bore had slightly changed color 
 and increased in quantity. But the elder saw only 
 the whizzing stream of water dart into its center, and 
 the rosy foam rise and tremble on the glass's rim. 
 The next instant he was holding his breath and sip- 
 ping the cooling drink. 
 
 As Elder Brown paid his small score he was at peace 
 with the world. I firmly believe that when he had 
 finished his trading, and the little blue-stringed pack- 
 ages had been stored away, could the poor donkey 
 have made his appearance at the door, and gazed with 
 his meek, fawn-like eyes into his master's, he would 
 have obtained full and free forgiveness. 
 
 Elder Brown paused at the door as he was about to 
 leave. A rosy-cheeked school-girl was just lifting a 
 creamy mixture to her lips before the fountain. It 
 was a pretty picture, and he turned back, resolved to 
 indulge in one more glass of the delightful beverage 
 before beginning his long ride homeward. 
 
 "Fix it up again, sonny," he said, renewing his 
 broad, confiding smile, as the spruce young man 
 poised a glass inquiringly. The living automaton 
 went through the same motions as before, and again 
 Elder Brown quaffed the fatal mixture. 
 
ELDER BROWN'S BACKSLIDE. 47 
 
 What a singular power is habit ! Up to this time 
 Elder Brown had been entirely innocent of transgres- 
 sion, but, with the old alcoholic fire in his veins, 
 twenty years dropped from his shoulders, and a feel- 
 ing came over him familiar to every man who has 
 been "in his cups." As a matter of fact, the elder 
 would have been a confirmed drunkard twenty years 
 before had his wife been less strong-minded. She 
 took the reins into her own hands when she found 
 that his business and strong drink did not mix well, 
 worked him into the church, and sustained his reso- 
 lutions by making it difficult and dangerous for him 
 to get to his toddy. She became the business head 
 of the family, and he the spiritual. Only at rare 
 intervals did he ever " backslide " during the twenty 
 years of the new era, and Mrs. Brown herseK used 
 to say that the '^ sugar in his^n turned to gall before 
 the backslide ended." People who knew her never 
 doubted it. 
 
 But Elder Brown's sin during the remainder of the 
 day contained an element of responsibility. As he 
 moved majestically down toward where Balaam slept 
 in the sunlight he felt no fatigue. There was a glow 
 upon his cheek-bones, and a faint tinge upon his 
 prominent nose. He nodded familiarly to people as 
 he met them, and saw not the look of amusement 
 which succeeded astonishment upon the various faces. 
 When he reached the neighborhood of Balaam it sud- 
 denly occurred to him that he might have forgotten 
 
48 ELDER BROWN'S BACKSLIDE. 
 
 some one of his numerous commissions, and he paused 
 to think. Then a brilliant idea rose in his mind. He 
 would forestall blame and disarm anger with kind- 
 ness — he would purchase Hannah a bonnet. 
 
 What woman's heart ever failed to soften at sight 
 of a new bonnet ? 
 
 As I have stated, the elder was a man of action. 
 He entered a store near at hand. 
 
 " Good-morning," said an affable gentleman with a 
 Hebrew countenance, approaching. 
 
 " Good-mornin', good-mornin', '^ said the elder, 
 piling his bundles on the counter. '^I hope you 
 are well % " Elder Brown extended his hand fervidly. 
 
 " Quite weU, I thank you. What '' 
 
 " And the little wife ? " said Elder Brown, affection- 
 ately retaining the Jew's hand. 
 
 ^^ Quite well, sir." 
 
 ^^ And the little ones — quite well, I hope, too ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir 5 all well, thank you. Something I can 
 do for you ? " 
 
 The affable merchant was trying to recall his cus- 
 tomer's name. 
 
 " Not now, not now, thankee. If you please to let 
 my bundle stay untell I come back " 
 
 " Can't I show you something ? Hat, coat " 
 
 " Not now. Be back bimeby." 
 
 Was it chance or fate that brought Elder Brown in 
 front of a bar ? The glasses shone bright upon the 
 
ELDER BROWN'S BACKSLIDE. 49 
 
 shelves as the swinging door flapped back to let out a 
 coatless clerk, who passed him with a rush, chewing 
 upon a farewell mouthful of brown-bread and bo- 
 logna. Elder Brown beheld for an instant the famil- 
 iar scene within. The screws of his resolution had 
 been loosened. At sight of the glistening bar the 
 whole moral structure of twenty years came tumbling 
 down. Mechanically he entered the saloon, and laid 
 a silver quarter down as he said : 
 
 " A little whisky an' sugar.'' The arms of the bar- 
 tender worked like a fakir's in a side-show as he set 
 out the glass with its little quota of " short sweeten- 
 ing" and a cut-glass decanter, and sent a half -tum- 
 bler of water spinning along from the upper end of 
 the bar with a dime in change. 
 
 " Whisky is higher 'n it used to be," said Elder 
 Brown ; but the bartender was taking another order, 
 and did not hear him. Elder Brown stii-red away the 
 sugar, and let a steady stream of red liquid flow into 
 the glass. He swallowed the drink as unconcernedly 
 as though his morning tod had never been suspended, 
 and pocketed the change. " But it ain't any better 
 than it was," he concluded, as he passed out. He did 
 not even seem to realize that he had done anything 
 extraordinary. 
 
 There was a millinery store .up the street, and 
 thither with uncertain step he wended his way, feel- 
 ing a little more elate, and altogether sociable. A 
 
50 ELDER BROWN'S BACKSLIDE. 
 
 pretty, black-eyed girl, struggling to keep down her 
 mirtli, came forward and faced Mm behind the 
 counter. Elder Brown lifted his faded hat with the 
 politeness, if not the grace, of a Castilian, and made 
 a sweeping bow. Again he was in his element. But 
 he did not speak. A shower of odds and ends, small 
 packages, thread, needles, and buttons, released from 
 their prison, rattled down about him. 
 
 The girl laughed. She could not help it. And the 
 elder, leaning his hand on the counter, laughed too, 
 until several other girls came half-way to the front. 
 Then they, hiding behind counters and suspended 
 cloaks, laughed and snickered until they re-convulsed 
 the elder's vis-d-vis, who had been making desperate 
 efforts to resume her demure appearance. 
 
 ^' Let me help you, sir,'^ she said, coming from be- 
 hind the counter, upon seeing Elder Brown beginning 
 to adjust his spectacles for a search. He waved her 
 back majestically. "No, my dear, no; can't allow it. 
 You mout sile them purty fingers. No, ma'am. No 
 gen'l'man '11 'low er lady to do such a thing." The 
 elder was gently forcing the girl back to her place. 
 '^ Leave it to me. I 've picked up bigger things 'n 
 them. Picked myself up this mornin'. Balaam — 
 you don't know Balaam ; he 's my donkey— he tum- 
 bled me over his head in the sand this mornin'." And 
 Elder Brown had to resume an upright position until 
 his paroxysm of laughter had passed. " You see this 
 
ELDER BROWN'S BACKSLIDE. 51 
 
 old hat ? ^' extending it, half full of packages ; ^^ I fell 
 clear inter it; jes' as clean inter it as them things 
 thar fell ont'n it." He laughed again, and so did the 
 girls. ^^ But, my dear, I whaled half the hide off'n 
 him for it." 
 
 ^^ Oh, sir ! how could you ? Indeed, sir, I think you 
 did wrong. The poor brute did not know what he 
 was doing, I dare say, and probably he has been a 
 faithful friend." The girl cast her mischievous eyes 
 toward her companions, who snickered again. The 
 old man was not conscious of the sarcasm. He only 
 saw reproach. His face straightened, and he re- 
 garded the girl soberly. 
 
 " Mebbe you ^re right, my dear ; mebbe I ought n't." 
 
 " I am sure of it," said the girl. " But now don't 
 you want to buy a bonnet or a cloak to carry home 
 to your wife 1 " 
 
 '^ Well, you 're whistlin' now, birdie ; that 's my 
 intention; set 'em all out." Again the elder's face 
 shone with delight. ''An' I don't want no one-hoss 
 bonnet neither." 
 
 '' Of course not. Now here is one ; pink silk, with 
 delicate pale blue feathers. Just the thing for the 
 season. "We have nothing more elegant in stock." 
 Elder Brown held it out, upside down, at arm's 
 length. 
 
 "Well, now, that 's suthin' like. Will it soot a 
 sorter red-headed 'ooman ? " 
 
52 ELDER BBOWN'S BACKSLIDE. 
 
 A perfectly sober man would have said the girl's 
 corsets must have undergone a terrible strain, but 
 the elder did not notice her dumb convulsion. She 
 answered heroically: 
 
 " Perfectly, sir. It is an exquisite match." 
 
 ^^ I think you 're whistlin' again. Nancy's head 's 
 red, red as a woodpeck's. Sorrel 's only half-way to 
 the color of her top-knot, an' it do seem like red 
 oughter soot red. Nancy 's red an' the hat 's red ; 
 like goes with like, an' birds of a feather flock to- 
 gether." The old man laughed until his cheeks were 
 wet. 
 
 The girl, beginning to feel a little uneasy, and see- 
 ing a customer entering, rapidly fixed up the bonnet, 
 took fifteen dollars out of a twenty-dollar bill, and 
 calmly asked the elder if he wanted anything else. 
 He thrust his change somewhere into his clothes, and 
 beat a retreat. It had occurred to him that he was 
 nearly drunk. 
 
 Elder Brown's step began to lose its buoyancy. He 
 found himself utterly unable to walk straight. There 
 was an uncertain straddle in his gait that carried him 
 from one side of the walk to the other, and caused 
 people whom he met to cheerfully j^deld him plenty of 
 room. 
 
 Balaam saw him coming. Poor Balaam. He had 
 made an early start that day, and for hours he stood 
 in the sun awaiting relief. When he opened his 
 sleepy eyes and raised his expressive ears to a position 
 
ELDER BROWN'S BACKSLIDE. 53 
 
 of attention, the old familiar coat and battered hat of 
 the elder were before him. He lifted up his honest 
 voice and cried aloud for joy. 
 
 The effect was electrical. For one instant Elder 
 Brown sui-veyed the beast with horror, but again in 
 his understanding there rang out the trumpet words, 
 * " Drunk, drunk, drunk, drer-unc, -er-unc, -unc, -unc." 
 
 He stooped instinctively for a missile with which to 
 smite his accuser, but brought up suddenly with a 
 jerk and a handful of sand. Straightening himself 
 up with a majestic dignity, he extended his right hand 
 impressively. 
 
 '^ You ^re a goldarn liar, Balaam, and, blast your 
 old buttons, you kin walk home by yourself, for I ^m 
 danged if you sh'll ride me er step." 
 
 Surely Coriolanus never turned his back upon 
 Rome with a grander dignity than sat upon the old 
 man's form as he faced about and left the brute to 
 survey with anxious eyes the new departure of his 
 master. 
 
 He saw the elder zigzag along the street, and be- 
 held him about to turn a friendly corner. Once more 
 he lifted up his mighty voice. 
 
 " Drunk, drunk, drunk, drer-unc, drer-unc, -er-unc, 
 -unc, -unc." 
 
 Once more the elder turned with lifted hand, and 
 shouted back : 
 
 " You ^re a liar, Balaam, goldarn you ! You 're er 
 iffamous liar." Then he passed from view. 
 
III. 
 
 Mrs. Brown stood upon the steps anxiously await- 
 ing the return of her liege lord. She knew he had 
 with him a large sum of money, or should have, and 
 she knew also that he was a man without business 
 methods. She had long since repented of the decision 
 which sent him to town. When the old battered hat 
 and flour-covered coat loomed up in the gloaming and 
 confronted her, she started with terror. The next in- 
 stant she had seized him. 
 
 '^ For the Lord sakes, Elder Brown, what ails you ? 
 As I live, if the man ain't drunk ! Elder Brown ! 
 Elder Brown ! for the life of me can't I make you 
 hear ? You crazy old hypocrite ! you desavin' old 
 sinner ! you black-hearted wretch ! where have you 
 be'n?" 
 
 The elder made an effort to wave her off. 
 
 " Woman,'' he said, with grand dignity, " you for- 
 git yussef ; shu know ware I 've be'n 's well 's I do. 
 Be'n to town, wife, an' see yer w'at I 've brought — 
 the fines' hat, ole woman, I could git. Look 't the 
 color. Like goes 'ith like ; it 's red an' you 're red, 
 
 54 
 
ELDER BROWN'S BACKSLIDE. 55 
 
 an' it 's a dead match. What yer mean ? Hey ! hole 
 on, ole woman ! — yon ! Hannah ! — you." She lit- 
 erally shook him into silence. 
 
 ^^ You miserable wi-etch ! you low-down drunken 
 sot ! what do you mean by coming home and insult- 
 ing your wife ? " Hannah ceased shaking him from 
 pure exhaustion. 
 
 " Where is it, I say ? where is it ? " 
 
 By this time she was turning his pockets wrong 
 side out. From one she got pills, from another 
 change, from another packages. 
 
 '^ The Lord be praised, and this is better luck than 
 I hoped ! Oh, elder ! elder ! elder ! what did you do 
 it for ? Why, man, where is Balaam ? " 
 
 Thought of the beast choked off the threatened 
 hysterics. 
 
 ^^ Balaam? Balaam?'' said the elder, groggily. 
 '' He 's in town. The infernal ole fool 'suited me, an' 
 I lef him to walk home." 
 
 His wife surveyed him. Really at that moment she 
 did think his mind was gone 5 but the leer upon the 
 old man's face enraged her beyond endurance. 
 
 '^ You did, did you ? Well, now, I reckon you '11 
 laugh for some cause, you will. Back you go, sir — 
 straight back; an' don't you come home 'thout that 
 donkey, or you '11 rue it, sure as my name is Hannah 
 Brown. Aleck ! — you Aleck-k-k ! " 
 
 A black boy darted round the comer, from behind 
 
56 ELDER BROWN'S BACKSLIDE. 
 
 whicli, with several others, he had beheld the brief but 
 stirring scene. 
 
 ^' Put a saddle on er mule. The elder 's gwine back 
 to town. And don't you be long about it nuther." 
 
 ^'Yessum." Aleck's ivories gleamed in the dark- 
 ness as he disappeared. 
 
 Elder Brown was soberer at that moment than he 
 had been for hours. 
 
 " Hannah, you don't mean it ? " 
 
 ^' Yes, sir ; I do. Back you go to town as sure as 
 my name is Hannah Brown." 
 
 The elder was silent. He had never known his wife 
 to relent on any occasion after she had affirmed her 
 intention, supplemented with ^' as sure as my name is 
 Hannah Brown." It was her way of swearing. No 
 affidavit would have had half the claim upon her as 
 that simple enunciation. 
 
 So back to town went Elder Brown, not in the 
 order of the early morn, but silently, moodily, de- 
 spairingly, surrounded by mental and actual gloom. 
 
 The old man had turned a last appealing glance 
 upon the angry woman, as he mounted with Aleck's 
 assistance, and sat in the light that streamed from 
 out the kitchen window. She met the glance without 
 a waver. 
 
 ^' She means it, as sure as my name is Elder Brown," 
 he said thickly. Then he rode on. 
 
IV. 
 
 To SAY that Elder Brown suffered on this long 
 journey back to Macon would only mildly outline his 
 experience. His early morning^s fall had begun to 
 make itself felt. He was sore and uncomfortable. 
 Besides, his stomach was empty, and called for two 
 meals it had missed for the first time in years. 
 
 When, sore and weary, the elder entered the city, 
 the electric lights shone above it like jewels in a crown. 
 The city slept ; that is, the better portion of it did. 
 Here and there, however, the lower lights flashed out 
 into the night. Moodily the elder pursued his jour- 
 ney, and as he rode, far off in the night there rose and 
 quivered a plaintive cry. Elder Brown smiled wearily ; 
 it was Balaam's appeal, and he recognized it. The 
 animal he rode also recognized it, and replied, until 
 the silence of the city was destroyed. The odd clamor 
 and confusion drew from a saloon near by a group of 
 noisy youngsters, who had been making a night of it. 
 They surrounded Elder Brown as he began to trans- 
 fer himseK to the hungry beast to whose motion he 
 was more accustomed, and in the " hail fellow well 
 met" style of the day began to bandy jests upon his 
 appearance. Now Elder Brown was not in a jesting 
 
 5 67 
 
58 ELDER BROWN'S BACKSLIDE. 
 
 humor. Positively he was in the worst humor possi- 
 ble. The result was that before many minutes passed 
 the old man was swinging several of the crowd by 
 their collars, and breaking the peace of the city. A 
 policeman approached, and but for the good-humored 
 party, upon whom the elder's pluck had made a favor- 
 able impression, would have run the old man into the 
 barracks. The crowd, however, drew him laughingly 
 into the saloon and to the bar. The reaction was too 
 much for his half -rallied senses. He yielded again. 
 The reviving liquor passed his lips. Gloom vanished. 
 He became one of the boys. 
 
 The company into which Elder Brown had fallen 
 was what is known as " first-class." To such nothing 
 is so captivating as an adventure out of the common 
 run of accidents. The gaunt countryman, with his 
 battered hat and claw-hammer coat, was a prize of an 
 extraordinary nature. They drew him into a rear 
 room, whose gilded frames and polished tables be- 
 trayed the character and purpose of the place, and 
 plied him with wine until ten thousand lights danced 
 about him. The fun increased. One youngster made 
 a political speech from the top of the table j another 
 impersonated Hamlet ; and finally Elder Brown was 
 lifted into a chair, and sang a camp-meeting song. 
 This was rendered by him with startling effect. He 
 stood upright, with his hat jauntily knocked to one 
 side, and his coat-tails ornamented with a couple of 
 
ELDER BROWN'S BACKSLIDE. 59 
 
 show-bills, kindly pinned on by his admirers. In his 
 left hand he waved the stub of a cigar, and on his 
 back was an admirable representation of Balaam's 
 head, executed by some artist with billiard chalk. 
 
 As the elder sang his favorite hymn, " I 'm glad 
 salvation 's free," his stentorian voice awoke the 
 echoes. Most of the company rolled upon the floor 
 in convulsions of laughter. 
 
 The exhibition came to a close by the chair over- 
 turning. Again Elder Brown fell into his beloved 
 hat. He arose and shouted : " Whoa, Balaam ! " 
 Again he seized the nearest weapon, and sought satis- 
 faction. The young gentleman with political senti- 
 ments was knocked under the table, and Hamlet only 
 escaped injury by beating the infuriated elder into 
 the street. 
 
 What next? Well, I hardly know. How the elder 
 found Balaam is a mystery yet : not that Balaam was 
 hard to find, but that the old man was in no condition 
 to find anything. Still he did, and climbing labori- 
 ously into the saddle, he held on stupidly while the 
 hungry beast struck out for home. 
 
V. 
 
 Hannah Brown did not sleep that night. Sleep 
 would not come. Hour after hour passed, and her 
 wrath refused to be quelled. She tried every con- 
 ceivable method, but time hung heavily. It was not 
 quite peep of day, however, when she laid her well- 
 worn family Bible aside. It had been her mother's, 
 and, amid all the anxieties and tribulations incident 
 to the life of a woman who had free negroes and a 
 miserable husband to manage, it had been her main- 
 stay and comfort. She had frequently read it in 
 anger, page after page, without knowing what was 
 contained in the lines. But eventually the words be- 
 came intelligible and took meaning. She wrested 
 consolation from it by mere force of will. 
 
 And so on this occasion when she closed the book 
 the fierce anger was gone. 
 
 She was not a hard woman naturally. Fate had 
 brought her conditions which covered up the woman 
 heart within her, but, though it lay deep, it was there 
 still. As she sat with folded hands her eyes fell 
 upon — what ? 
 
ELBEB BROWN'S BACKSLIDE, 61 
 
 The pink bonnet with the blue plume ! 
 
 It may appear strange to those who do not under- 
 stand such natures, but to me her next action was 
 perfectly natural. She burst into a convulsive laugh ; 
 then seizing the queer object, bent her face upon it 
 and sobbed hysterically. When the storm was over, 
 very tenderly she laid the gift aside, and bare-headed 
 passed out into the night. 
 
 For a half -hour she stood at the end of the lane, and 
 then hungry Balaam and his master hove in sight. 
 Reaching out her hand, she checked the beast. 
 
 " William," said she, very gently, ^' where is the 
 mule?" 
 
 The elder had been asleep. He woke and gazed 
 upon her blankly. 
 
 '' What mule, Hannah ? " 
 
 " The mule you rode to town.^' 
 
 For one full minute the elder studied her face. 
 Then it burst from his lips : 
 
 " Well, bless me ! if I did n't bring Balaam and f or- 
 git the mule ! " 
 
 The woman laughed till her eyes ran water. 
 
 ^' William," said she, ^' you 're drunk." 
 
 ^^ Hannah," said he, meekly, ^^ I know it. The truth 
 is, Hannah, I " 
 
 "Never mind now, William," she said, gently. 
 "You are tired and hungry. Come into the house, 
 husband." 
 
62 ELDER BROWN'S BACKSLIDE. 
 
 Leading Balaam, she disappeared down the lane ; 
 and when, a few minutes later, Hannah Brown and 
 her husband entered through the light that streamed 
 out of the open door, her arms were around him and 
 her face uptui'ned to his. 
 
AN IDYL OF "SINKIN' MOUNTIN." 
 
 "\ZEKIEL OBADIAH SYKES leaned 
 J over the tumble-down split-picket 
 ii^in fence that had once kept the pigs 
 
 ' ^ ' and chickens from his mother^s hum- 
 
 ble flower-garden, and gazed fixedly 
 at the mountain before him. His was not a striking 
 figure, being lank and somewhat round-shouldered. 
 It was not even picturesque. A pair of worn jean 
 trousers covered his lower limbs, and were held in 
 place by knit " gaUuses," which crossed the back of his 
 cotton shirt exactly in the middle and disappeared 
 over his shoulders in well-defined grooves. A stained 
 and battered wool hat hung like a bell over his head, 
 which rested by his chin upon a red, rough hand. 
 The face was half covered by a reddish brown beard, 
 the first of his budding manhood. The sun had just 
 sunk beyond the mountain, and the great shadow 
 that crept across the single field of starving corn and 
 the tobacco patch deepened into twilight, and still the 
 
64 AN IDYL OF ''SINKIN' MOUNTAIN." 
 
 young man rested on the picket-fence. Occasionally 
 he would eject into the half -defined road, which came 
 around one side of the mountain and disappeared 
 around the other, a stream of tobacco- juice, and pen- 
 sively watch it as it lined the gravel and vanished into 
 the soil with something like a human gasp. Once he 
 lifted a bare foot, and with a prolonged effort scratched 
 with its horny toes the calf of the supporting leg. 
 But by no motion did he dissipate the air of listless- 
 ness and despondency that hung about him. 
 
 Fortune had not smiled upon the Sykes family for 
 many moons. There were no pigs to disturb the 
 flower-garden overrun with prince's-feathers, bache- 
 lor's-buttons, four-o'clocks, old-maids, and sunflowers, 
 and the dismounted gate leaned restfully against the 
 post on which it had once hung. Somehow every- 
 thing in the neighborhood of the Sykes cottage 
 seemed inclined to lean towards something else. The 
 cow was long gone, and the tiny little boarded shed, 
 which straddled the sparkling spring-branch near at 
 hand and served once as a dairy, was lurching to- 
 wards the hillside. Near the staggering fence was a 
 bench that had settled back against it, thrusting its 
 legs weU to the front, and there once nestled a score 
 of bee-hives ; but none remained, and only the great 
 yeUow and maroon butterflies that floated down the 
 valley, and the bumblebees, reveled in the honey- 
 flowers. Perhaps the influence of these facts weighed 
 
AN IDYL OF ''SIXKIN' AIOUXriN." 65 
 
 upon the young man^s mind, and cast a shadow darker 
 than the mountain's. Certainly, as he leaned silently 
 over the picket, he was in harmony with the sur- 
 roundings. 
 
 A girl came out into the twilight of the little porch, 
 where vines were clambering pell-mell up a rough 
 trellis of peeled rods, and carefully poured water from 
 a gourd into a dozen tiny pots along the edge. The 
 pots consisted of gourds and of tin cans that had been 
 brought home by Ezekiel from the refuse of the great 
 hotels at The Falls, ten miles or more away. But 
 they answered her purposes well, only they presented 
 a somewhat incongruous appearance ; for on several 
 from which bloomed lovely geraniums — cuttings se- 
 cured by Ezekiel from character- studying ladies at 
 the same hotels — flamed great red tomatoes, and 
 where little sprigs of coleus beamed in the shadow 
 shone also phenomenal asparagus and the violent-hued 
 lobster. The dress of the girl was a well-worn but 
 neat-checked homespun, and at the throat was a bit of 
 faded ribbon. 
 
 " D'rindy, yuh seen Ezekiel ? '^ An elderly woman 
 in homespun, of the same design as the girPs, stood in 
 the doorway that led from the kitchen upon the porch, 
 holding a coffee-pot in hand. 
 
 "No, ma'am. Zeke! Oh-h-h-h, Zeke!" The girl 
 lifted her head and sung out the name until the moun- 
 tain and the valley gave it back again and again. 
 
66 ^^ IDYL OF ''SINKIN' MOUNTAIN.'' 
 
 "What yuh warnt, D'rindy?'' The voice came 
 from so close at hand in the gathering shadows as to 
 startle her. 
 
 " Well, I d^clar^ ter goodness^ sakes, Ezekiel, what 
 yuh doin^ out thar ? " 
 
 " Nuth'n\'' The reply was low and careless. 
 
 " Come in an' git yuh vittuls.'' 
 
 " Don't warnt nuth'n', Ma. Yuh-aU eat." 
 
 The woman looked out at the lone figure for a 
 moment, then went in ; and presently the girl thought- 
 fully followed. At the table, upon which was a pone 
 of corn-bread, a pot of weak coffee, and a handless 
 pitcher of molasses, the elder said : 
 
 " I 'm 'f eered Ezekiel ar' ailin'. Las' night he would 
 n' tech vittuls, an' hit ain't no better ter-night." 
 
 "Suthin' 's pesterin' 'im," Dorinda said simply j 
 " er-pesterin' es mine." An old man sat next to her 
 and shook his head. 
 
 " All Hers, all liers ! " he muttered. He was evi- 
 dently very deaf, and there was not a hair on his head, 
 which was sunken between his shoulders. "Thar 
 warn't nair' stUL ! " The women paid no attention to 
 his mutterings, and presently, finishing his sop, he 
 wiped his fingers upon his hips and shufled into the 
 corner of the fireplace, where he mumbled to himself 
 awhile and then fell asleep. 
 
 " Yes, suthin' 's pesterin' 'im," said the old woman 
 after a pause. " Ezekiel ain't like esse'f ." The girl 
 
AN IDYL OF ''SINKIN' MOUNTAIN." 67 
 
 rested her elbows on the table and watched her com- 
 panion absently. Presently she said abruptly : 
 
 " Ann' Betsey, yuh reck'n Zeke hain't still er-f rettin^ 
 'bout Sal Boler gittin' j'ined ter ^er feller ? '' 
 
 " Maybe so ; but I reck'n hard times got more ter do 
 'ith it. Ezekiel don't see no chance ahead now.'' She 
 sighed, but added,, as if to counteract its effect, " Not 
 that I 'm distrustin'. Th' Lord '11 pervide : he alius 
 pervides fur them as leans on 'im." Dorinda looked 
 wistfully up into the face of her aging companion and 
 was silent. Presently she rose and washed the few 
 dishes, placing them upon their shelf. A few deft 
 touches restored the room to its usual scrupulously 
 neat condition. Returning the coffee-pot to the hearth 
 again and the remaining bread to the spider for 
 ^' Zeke," as she had always called him, in defiance of his 
 mother's example, she went quietly to her little shed- 
 room at the end of the porch and sat down to think. 
 She was Dorinda Maddox, not Sykes, the daughter of 
 a poor woman down the valley who died in the arms 
 of Mrs. Sykes, five years before, leaving nothing she 
 might call her own but this one lonely child. Her 
 father and her brother had been killed in a fight with 
 revenue officers, and the hairless, driveling old man 
 within the kitchen had suffered two years of imprison- 
 ment ; for the blood shed had not all been on one side. 
 She had come into this household to share its increas- 
 ing burdens and diminishing income, but not to eat 
 
68 ^N IDYL OF "SINKIN' MOUNTAIN.'' 
 
 the bread of idleness. Never had motlier a tenderer 
 daughter; never an orphan a better mother. Zeke 
 had been her one playmate and protector^ and the lit- 
 tle room, built when she grew older, was the result of 
 his rough carpentry. 
 
 ^' I wunner ef he es er-frettin' 'bout Sal Boler gittin' 
 joined ? " she asked herseK. The romance was familiar 
 to her in all its parts from the day when Ezekiel was 
 smitten until faithless Sal wedded a stranger from 
 beyond the mountain, and he sunk back into despair 
 and silence. She stood up before a little fragment of 
 glass and looked at herself. It was a tiny room 
 indeed, but marvelous in its appointments. The 
 bare boards were frescoed with autumn leaves, their 
 tints making a glory in the half -lit place. Clusters 
 of chestnut-burrs garnished with them hung around, 
 and here and there, in scraped cow-horns thrust into 
 crevices, were tucked great bunches of ferns and 
 scarlet berries and goldenrod. A half-dozen cheap 
 prints cut from periodicals picked up at The Falls 
 filled the waste places, and festoons of bead-corn 
 linked them together. But just above her glass was 
 a cheap photograph of Zeke, taken years before in 
 the mountains by a straggling photographer whom 
 he had guided, representing him, as he had seen the 
 romantic tourists, posing in the shadow of a rock, his 
 hat in one hand, and the other, for want of a coat, 
 
Dorinda. 
 
AN IDYL OF "SIXEIN' MOUNT IN." 69 
 
 thrust into his half-open shirt-front — a barefooted 
 mountain boy whose honest eyes looked straight into 
 hers. This had been, from the day Ezekiel brought 
 it home, the treasure of her girlhood. The frame 
 about it was like none other in the world. It was 
 of mica, made of sheets larger than any man's 
 hand, and upon their surface with a needle she had 
 traced ferns, butterflies, flowers, and leaves, rubbing 
 soot into the lines to make the figures stand forth. 
 This was her gem ; and once a traveling artist who 
 gazed upon it said that it was wonderfully true to 
 nature, and offered to buy it. He might as well have 
 bartered for her eyes. The little room held only her 
 couch, a rude chest, a splint rocker, and a stool, — all 
 Zeke's work, — a brown stone bowl, and a great jug- 
 shaped gourd which served her for a pitcher. 
 
 As the girl stood in brown reverie before the frag- 
 ment of glass she heard a horse approaching at a fox- 
 trot, and presently a voice exclaim : 
 
 " Well, Ezekyel, how es time er-sarvin' you an' 
 yourn ? " She recognized the drawl of an old ^^ hard- 
 shell " preacher who at long intervals came to hold 
 forth in the neighborhood. Then EzekiePs voice : 
 
 "Po'ly, Parson. Light?" 
 
 " No ; I 'm goin' ter lie at Sis' Toomer^s ter-night. 
 "Will see yuh out ter Zebberlon come er-Sunday. 
 Th' road hain't ther bes' an' hit 's er-gittin' dark — 
 
70 ^N IDYL OF ''SINKIN' MOUNTAIN." 
 
 wlioa! Oh, Ezekyel/' — she heard the horse, which 
 had started, checked again, — ^^seen Sal Boler 'cross 
 the line las' month. Th' critter she war er-j'ined ter 
 es dead." The girl in her little room clasped her 
 hands and sunk back on the couch. She could but 
 hear what followed. 
 
 ^^Yuh don't say!" 
 
 " Be'n dead f o' months come er-Friday. She ain't 
 furgot you, Ezekyel." Here the speaker chuckled. 
 " She do say that ef her life was ter come roun' ter 
 be lived ergin, she 'd be Mistis Ezekyel Sykes down 
 in Raccoon Holler." 
 
 ^' Did Sal say hit fur er fac'. Parson ? " His voice 
 was low. 
 
 '^ She said hit fur er fac' ; an' Sal hain't er-need'n' 
 no man ter git vittuls fur her. The Lord he has 
 blessed her more 'n many er prayin' ooman an' the 
 mother er chillum, er rer, blessed be his holy name, 
 er rer ! An' I say it er-wonderin', not er-findin' fault. 
 Yes, Sal 's got Ian' an' stock ; no eend er stock." 
 
 The girl heard his horse's footfalls echo out in the 
 distance. She waited long. Then Ezekiel entered 
 the kitchen, and she followed quietly and placed 
 his bread upon the table. He passed into the only 
 remaining room without noticing her. 
 
 " Ma," she heard him say quietly, as was his way, 
 " git me up 'bout light. I 'm goin' ter th' yan side er 
 
AN IDYL OF "SINEIN' MOUNTING 71 
 
 th' mountain ter-morrer, an' maybe I won't git back 
 afo' Sunday." 
 
 Dorinda turned and went out as silently as she 
 came. In her room she threw herself face down 
 upon the log-cabin quilt of her couch and sobbed 
 herself asleep. 
 
II. 
 
 "When Ezekiel Sykes arose next morning respon- 
 sive to his mother's call, daylight was glimmering 
 faintly on the mountain. He took from its pegs his 
 red jean suit, the same that Sal Boler had so often 
 seen him in, now a little worse for wear, and donned 
 it, putting on his one other cotton shirt. Then he 
 slicked his hair with marrow-fat from a horn, and 
 throwing his boots, weU greased, across his shoulder, 
 rolled up his trousers. Prepared for his journey, he 
 proceeded to the kitchen and possessed himself of a 
 cup of cold coffee and the bread put aside for him. 
 As he was passing out his mother came to the door. 
 
 " Fur ther Lor' sakes, Ezekiel, whar be yuh goin' 
 ter, boyr' 
 
 "Ter the yan side o''^ the mount'in, Ma," he said 
 quietly. Then he called to her from the outside : " I 
 reck'n yer hain't ter see me afo' Sunday." 
 
 '^WeU, that beats my times," she said, gazing 
 blankly at the open door. Presently she began to 
 dress. '^ Sunday-meetin' clothes on, an' hit er Chues- 
 day ! Hit 's onpossible thet Ezekiel is settin' up ter er 
 
 gal over thar " She paused with her dress half 
 
 over her head. " No, hit 's onpossible ; one er Ezekiel's 
 
 72 
 
,,.,^ ,'f?fiS^, ]>;,!,!. 
 
 "Zeke, less see how yer look. 
 
AN IDYL OF ''SINEJN' MOUNTAIN." 73 
 
 queer notions. The boy war never jes' like yuther 
 boys. Ter tliink," she said, laughing softly, ^Her 
 think of folks callin' Jmn ' Doctor^ — ^Doctor ZekeM 
 But hit 's er fac' thet he do fech sum folks 'round 
 estonishinly, an' thet 's erbout all any yuther doctor 
 c'n say." 
 
 When Ezekiel Sykes took the road at early dawn 
 he went northward; and as he strolled along he 
 whistled softly. A great change had come over him. 
 He carried himself erect, as in olden times, and smiled 
 responsive to his thoughts. If Dorinda could have 
 seen him then she would have said, " Hit 's Zeke come 
 ter his own se'f ergin." The perfidy of Sal Boler had 
 been a crushing blow a year before ; he had suffered, 
 and his pride had been altogether annihilated. From 
 a self -laudatory young man he had sunk into a morose 
 and thoughtfully distrustful one. If he had had the 
 power of expression he might have become a cynic in 
 words, as he was in fact. He had borne up pretty 
 well under the waning fortunes of the Sykes family 
 and the disasters which befeU them all through the 
 father; but Sal's conduct finished him at one fell 
 blow. 
 
 " ' Ef her life war ter come roun' ter be lived ergin, 
 she 'd be Mistis Ezekyel Sykes down een Raccoon 
 Holler,' " he said aloud ; and then he laughed. It had 
 been many a day since he had laughed like that, and 
 he realized the change. " Zeke, less see how yuh look," 
 
74 ^^ IDYL OF "SINKIN' MOUNT 'IN." 
 
 he added jubilantly. He took a small bit of glass 
 from his coat-pocket, thrust it behind the scale of a 
 pine-tree's bark, and solemnly surveyed his counte- 
 nance. 
 
 '^ Hit 's Zeke/' he admitted, winking and twisting 
 his head. ''Zeke, Ezekiel Obadiah Sykes — Dr. Zeke. 
 An' I reck'n she done a long sight worser 'n looks 
 when she j'ined unto that Calliny feller, ef she did n't 
 in Ian' an' stock." He took off his hat and bowed to 
 Ezekiel in the glass, and smiled at Ezekiel in the 
 glass, and rolled his tongue at Ezekiel in the glass. 
 " Ezekiel," said he finally, ^' ding yuh ole skin, ef I 
 wuz ter meet yer on ther road I 'd say, ' Ther goes er 
 feller fit ter run er gal crazy.' I would, fer er fac'. 
 Yer ar' er bad un." He winked with both eyes vio- 
 lently. " No eend to Ian' an' stock ! " 
 
 With a loud guffaw he returned the reflector to his 
 pocket, and whistling and singing by turns resumed 
 his journey. The change that had come over him was 
 marvelous. 
 
 Ezekiel had covered about fifteen miles, and was 
 upon a better road when he was overtaken by a spank- 
 ing team, driven by a good-natured, easy-going young 
 man, who hailed him pleasantly. 
 
 "Ride, stranger?" 
 
 " In course," said Zeke ; " an' glad ter get hit. How 
 fur yuh travelin' ? " 
 
 " Up about Red Creek." 
 
AN IDYL OF ''SINKIN' MOUNTAIN." 75 
 
 " Well, now, thet 's what I calls luck/' said Zeke, as 
 he settled down on the proffered seat. "■ So 'm I." 
 
 The young man smiled at the speaker's general ap- 
 pearance and manner. His own shoes were on and 
 blacked, and there was a well-bred business look about 
 him that Ezekiel noticed. 
 
 " Be yuh er-stayin' thar ? " 
 
 " Yes," said the stranger, looking at him keenly but 
 slyly. " Where do you hail from ? '' 
 
 '^Raccoon Holler.'' 
 
 " Farming ? " 
 
 " Some, an' er-docterin' some." 
 
 " So ! You are a doctor, then. Allopathic or homeo- 
 pathic?" 
 
 Ezekiel reflected. " Mostly yarbs," he said. 
 
 His companion smiled again. "I see; one of na- 
 ture's doctors. Best sort, after all." 
 
 Under this flattering admission Ezekiel expanded 
 at once. 
 
 "Think so?" 
 
 " I do, indeed." 
 
 Ezekiel stretched out his hand. "Glad ter know 
 yuh. What mout be your name ? " 
 
 " Tom Summers." 
 
 " Dr. Ezekiel Obadiah Sykes," he said gravely. 
 
 " Glad to know you, Doc. It is lonesome up here ; 
 glad to have your company." 
 
 "'T is kinder lonesome," admitted Ezekiel. Then, 
 
76 ^^ IDYL OF ''SINEIN' MOUNT 'IN." 
 
 after a pause : " But, stranger, you kinder fetched me 
 erwhile back when yuh war er-talkin' 'bout natur' and 
 er-docterin' 'cordin' ter natur'." 
 
 ^^ndeed!'' 
 
 " Thet 's my way. I hain't be'n ter school, an' what 
 I got war picked up hyah 'n' thar f'om one 'n' ernuther. 
 Folks got ter callin' me ^ Dr. Zeke,' an' so hit goes j an' 
 Dr. Zeke hit ar' till now 5 an' some er um ^u'd tell yuh 
 thet Dr. Zeke knowed er thing er two, maybe, ef yer 
 asked um." 
 
 " I have no doubt of it." 
 
 " Hit war the funniest thing th' way hit come er- 
 bout — my er-gittin to be er natures docter. I war 
 er-workin' 'roun' on the mount'in er-huntin' fur arrer- 
 root, an' I hearn a voice, as plain as I ar' hyarin' them 
 horses' foots, er-sayin' : ^ Dr. Zeke, give natur' what 
 natur' calls fur,' and I went right ter stud'in', day in 
 an' day out, what hit meant. But one day Mistis 
 Toomer, 'roun' th' mount'in, she come ter me an' says, 
 says she, ^ Dr. Zeke, the baby ar' mortuP sick, an' ar' 
 continnerwally er-cryin' fur raw 'taters an' fried 
 greens.'" 
 
 ^^ And you gave them to her ? " 
 
 " Quicker ner Hghtnin' hit come ter me what war 
 meant 'bout natur' callin', an' I says, says I : ^ Mahaly 
 Toomer, ef the baby ar' mortul' sick an' ar' er-con- 
 tinnerwally cryin' fur raw 'taters an' fried greens, 
 give her raw 'taters an' fried greens '5 an' with thet 
 
AN IDYL OF "SIXKIN' MOUNT IN." ^7 
 
 I warks off an' leaves 'er stan'in' in tli' road like one 
 seized uv er sperrit. Mahaly told our folks nex' day 
 thet she laid out thet Dr. Zeke bed done gone plum 
 crazy, but bimeby, er-knowin' my ways, she up an^ 
 give the chile hits ^taters an' fried greens." 
 
 '^ Death was instantaneous, I suppose ? " 
 
 '^ Death ! Why, ther chile ar^ ter-day ther out- 
 strappinest boy in Rabun County." 
 
 The stranger laughed. 
 
 " Well, that was wonderful, indeed. But, Doctor, 
 seriously, what would you do if nature should call 
 for something out of season?" 
 
 Dr. Zeke pursed up his lips, and, looking out across 
 the mountains, scratched his chin. 
 
 ^' Natur'," he said presently, " hain't goin' ter call 
 fur thet which natur' hain't got — thet is, gineraUy. 
 But hit do sometimes so happen thet way." 
 
 " Then comes practice by substitute." The stran- 
 ger passed the reins while he went down into a 
 leather case for cigars. 
 
 "No," said the doctor; "hit won't work thet er 
 way. Now thar war Sis' Debory Jinkins, which 
 word come es how she war seized with er Ion gin' fur 
 watermillion, when watermillions war long gone ; 
 an' I, knowin' thet gourds war somewhat arter th' 
 make er th' watermillion, — sorter half kin on one 
 side, anyhow, — had um fetch er green gourd, an' 
 we put hit down Sis' Debory's throat, her ma er- 
 
78 ^N IDYL OF ''SINKIN' MOUNTAIN:' 
 
 holdin^ her, fur she did kick pow^ful, bein^ natur'ly 
 of a contrerry natur^ an' havin' no longin' fur thet 
 eend of the watermillion family. We put it down 
 her throat " 
 
 ^^ I suppose it satisfied her longing for watermelon." 
 
 " Yes, hit satisfied her longin' fur most ev'ything 
 fur erwhile j leastways, she never said nothin' more 
 erbout watermillions j but Sis' Debory come nigh 
 unter death with cohc afo' mornin', an' sense thet 
 time I hain't hed faith in substytoots. Ef natur' 
 calls fur what natur' hain't got, I argy thet hit ain't 
 Dr. Zeke thet 's ter blame j an' I ginerally waits ontel 
 natur' calls fur suthin' ter hand." 
 
 Something like five miles had been covered during 
 the exposition of the Sykes theory of medical prac- 
 tice, when Ezekiel suddenly changed the subject. 
 
 " Stranger, yuh ever hyar er th' Widder Martin — 
 Sallie Boler thet war, up een Red Crick settlement % " 
 he asked. 
 
 ^^Yes, indeed. Nice woman she is, too." The 
 stranger spoke without hesitation. Ezekiel was silent 
 for a full minute ; then, unable to contain the secret 
 any longer, he continued : 
 
 '' Well, hit 's 'bleeged ter come out. I 'm er-courtin' 
 th' same." 
 
 ^^ Indeed? Bully boy, and good luck to you ! Is 
 she pretty well fixed?" 
 
 "Fixed?" 
 
AN IDYL OF "SINKIN' MOUNTAIN." 79 
 
 " Got any land — money ? " 
 
 " Er whole county, an' no eend er stock." 
 
 " Go in, old fellow, and win ! " said his companion 
 impressively. '^ And you are really courting her ? " 
 
 ^^ Thet ^s what er said. Ever meet her, stransrer ? " 
 
 '^ Oh, yes. The widow and I are good friends." 
 
 "Yuh don't say!'' 
 
 ^^We are, indeed." 
 
 ^' Then, stranger, yuh stop erlong 'ith us ter-night. 
 She '11 be pow'f ul glad ter see 'er ole friend, an' any- 
 body thet Ezekiel Sykes brings '11 be welcome ter 
 the bes'." 
 
 For a full hour and a half Ezekiel held forth upon 
 the subject that was consuming him, but when at 
 length they reached a little branch he called ^^ Whoa ! " 
 and the willing horses came to a halt. 
 
 " Stranger," said he, ^' will you hole up er minute 
 tell I spruce er bit ? " 
 
 '^ "Why, certainly." 
 
 Ezekiel alighted from the buggy, and, washing his 
 feet in the stream, wiped them upon the grass and 
 drew on his boots. After this he stuck the little 
 glass in a tree again, put on his coat, and producing 
 a faded red cravat proceeded to tie it about his neck. 
 Then he combed his well-oiled locks with his fingers. 
 
 " Thet '11 do fur th' widder," he said as he climbed 
 back into the buggy. 
 
 The two journeyed along pleasantly until the sum- 
 
80 ^y i^yL OF "siNKiN' mountain:' 
 
 mit of the ridge was reached and the opposite valley- 
 lay spread before them. Here the stranger, after a 
 few minutes' reflection, said, his eyes twinkling : 
 
 " Dr. Sykes, perhaps I ought to have mentioned it 
 before, but the fact is I married Widow Martin my- 
 self two weeks ago." 
 
 Ezekiel looked at him blankly for a full minute, 
 then reached out and caught the lines, and with a 
 slow steady pull brought the horses to a standstill. 
 The stranger's face was as calm and impassive as 
 a June sky. 
 
 " Yuh don' say ! " he exclaimed in a hoarse whisper. 
 
 ^' Fact. But don't turn back on that account. Any 
 friend of mine will be welcome at Sal's. Besides, she 
 wants to see you, for I have heard her say so." 
 
 Ezekiel still surveyed him piteously. Then he 
 slowly reached down and drew off first one and then 
 the other boot. His cravat was returned to his 
 pocket. Springing to the ground, he caught the line 
 nearest him. 
 
 " Stranger," he said, " Widder Martin's new hus- 
 bun 's er-goin' ter get whupped ! Oh, yuh need n' 
 laugh ! " 
 
 ^' Sykes," said his late companion, wiping the tears 
 from his eyes and still shaking, '•'■ let go that line." 
 
 ^^ I 'm th' bes' man in Rabun County," said Ezekiel, 
 dancing in the road. " Come down, come down ! " 
 
 " You 're the biggest fool ! " 
 
AN IDYL OF ''SINKIX' MOUNTAIN." 81 
 
 Ezekiel was fairly boiling with rage. 
 
 " Light, light ! '^ he yelled. Then as the stranger 
 made no motion to comply, Ezekiel began to kick the 
 nearest horse in the stomach with all his might, and 
 that animal responded by rearing and plunging vio- 
 lently. The stranger " lit." Unfortunately for Ezek- 
 iel, he was caught in the act of pulling off his coat. 
 He was a doomed man from the outset. For about 
 three minutes there was an animated spectacle in the 
 road, and then Ezekiel fled from the spot, as was per- 
 fectly proper, since he could have accomplished noth- 
 ing desirable by remaining, and the stranger was at 
 white heat. Kicking the horse had upset his temper 
 completely. 
 
 " Confound the fellow ! " he said ; ^' I 've a great 
 mind to carry off his boots and coat." 
 
 But he did not, and nature's physician regained 
 them when the coasts were cleared, and, bleeding and 
 dazed, took the back track. At the little branch he 
 stuck his glass in the tree again and began an exam- 
 ination of himself. One eye was nearly closed, his 
 lip was cut, and his nose was swollen. Minor injur- 
 ies helped to make him the unhappiest of mortals. 
 Long time he studied himself in silence. Presently 
 he said, a great tear oozing from the blackened eye : 
 
 " Ef 'e had n' er got een that ar fust sub-binder 
 imner thet ear, afo' I got out'n th' coat, Widder Mar- 
 tin's new husbun 'u'd er be'n in er worser fix 'n thet." 
 
82 ^V IDYL OF "SIXEIN' MOUNTAIN." 
 
 He checked the tears and examined himself critically. 
 Finally he said more calmly : " Hit war done com- 
 plete an^ no mistake." 
 
 As he slowly and painfully resumed his journey 
 homeward he added : ^' ^ Ef her life war ter come round 
 ter be lived ergin, she 'd be Mistis Ezekyel Sykes 
 down een Raccoon Holler/ she would ! " He shook 
 his head pitifully ; " Sal, Sal j my heart ar' plum 
 broke ! " 
 
III. 
 
 " Lah sakes, Ezekiel, what ails yah, boy ? " Again 
 the shadow of the great mountain was deepening over 
 the little cottage, when, foot-sore, bruised, weary, 
 and disconsolate, Ezekiel Sykes dragged himself in 
 through the open gate and dropped his boots upon 
 the j&oor of the porch, his coat beside them. His 
 mother's salutation roused him, and he raised a quiz- 
 zical face to hers — a face which sui'ely only a mother 
 could have recognized. A faint smile flittered among 
 the few clearings upon it — a dim ghost of his old 
 smile. 
 
 " Be'n ter th' yan side of the mount'in. Ma ! '' He 
 sank upon the top step and rested his chin upon his 
 hand. '^ An^ I hain't er-torkin' much erbout hit ter- 
 night." 
 
 The woman checked her second exclamation. She 
 was used to the young man's moods 5 and, besides, 
 the results of the fist and skull fights were perfectly 
 familiar to her in that rough country of green whisky 
 and exciting elections. But for Ezekiel to come home 
 in these piping days of peace bearing evidences of 
 having figured on the losing side of a scrimmage was 
 altogether novel. 
 
84 AN IDYL OF "SINEIN' MOUNTAIN" 
 
 ^^Ezekiel," she said, ^'tell juh ma how hit come 
 erbout ? " Ezekiel ejected a stream of tobacco- juice 
 from between his swollen lips, and wiped them gently 
 with the back of his hand. 
 
 " Hit aU come uv one sub-binder unner thet ar ear ; 
 hit war lammed when I war er-pullin' out er my coat 
 an^ my arm hit war stickin^ ter the sleeve. Ef th' 
 mountain hitse'f hed er fell thar, hit 'u'd er be'n erbout 
 ther size er thet ar lick. But, Ma, cook suthin^ quick. 
 Hit's be'n nigh outer two mortul days sence I eat. I 
 did n't want nobody er-laughin' at Ezekiel Sykes, an' 
 so I come honggry all ther way back." 
 
 ^' Why, sakes erlive, ther boy mus' be er-perishin'. 
 Set right thar, Ezekiel, an' don't yuh move er peg tell 
 I git er pone er bread an' er pot er coffee." 
 
 The good woman bustled off and disappeared. 
 While this brief scene was enacting, Dorinda stood 
 within the shadows of her little room, her fingers 
 clasped and eyes set eagerly upon the pair. Her 
 mother's form had but disappeared in the kitchen when 
 she glided out and sank upon her knees at the young 
 man's side, her hand upon his shoulder. 
 
 ^^O Zeke, Zeke ! " she whispered, "lemme do suthin' 
 fur yuh ! Are yuh hurted bad, Zeke ! " 
 
 He gazed at her with his one open eye a full 
 minute before replying. The look was so comical, so 
 utterly foreign to him, so pathetic withal, that she 
 finally threw her head back and laughed until the val- 
 

 Hj(,4 
 
 Zeke and Dorinda, 
 
^.V IDYL OF ''SIXEIX' MOUNTAIN." 85 
 
 ley seemed to swarm with silvery echoes. Ezekiel 
 blinked wisely at her. 
 
 " D'rindy," he said, '^ ynh better laugh fur two ; I 
 ain' ekil ter any ter-night." 
 
 And so she did. Her emotion, which was deeper 
 than the occasion, ran off in laughter that approached 
 the hysterical. 
 
 " O Zeke ! " she gasped, " s'posen thet ar pictur^ 
 man hed er took yer ter-day ! " Zeke's queer smile 
 came out again, gamboled pitifully in the small clear- 
 ings of his countenance, and went back with a sud- 
 denness that was grotesque. The girl was still hold- 
 ing her sides, but presently she wiped her eyes with 
 her apron. 
 
 ^^O Zeke," she said. ^'I'm so sorry! TVhatkinI 
 do fur yuh ? " 
 
 " Natur' is er-callin^ fur suthin' to go innards," he 
 declared oracularly, " sech es Ma gits up j an' I reck'n 
 as how natur' ought ter be callin' fur suthin' ter go 
 outside. Git some water, D'rindy. Ef hit had n' er 
 
 be'n fur thet ar leadin' sub-binder " But the girl 
 
 had glided into her room and caught up her crock. 
 She sped out to the little rivulet, sparkling icy cold 
 from the spring. Presently she came back with it 
 full and placed it on the step. 
 
 "Now, Zeke," she said, "yuh jes' set down thar 
 on th' nex' step an' lay yuh head in my lap — so ! 
 Now keep stiU." Her plump little hand cupped water 
 
86 ^N IDYL OF "SINKIN' MOUNTAIN." 
 
 against the swollen places of his head, and as she 
 bathed them thus the young man, soothed and quieted, 
 ever and anon gazed up into her violet eyes and 
 flushed face. 
 
 " I declar' ter goodness, D^rindy," he said, seeking 
 for some way to express his gratitude, " yuh han' ^s es 
 sof es er moss-patch, an' yuh es putty es th' sunset 
 on th' mount'in." 
 
 ^'Shet yer jaw, Zeke; yer pokin' fun at me! An' 
 yuh eyes can' see ter-night, nuther." 
 
 Still her heart beat fast and strong. It was the 
 first compliment a man had ever paid to her looks. 
 She might live out her lonely life unblessed here in 
 the valley, and the horizon of her daily existence be 
 the long blue peaks and her simple household duties ; 
 but the memory of the words that she had heard 
 would dwell with her always. Her soul could thrive 
 upon a crust that other women would spurn. 
 
 Silence fell upon them, the gliding water lapping 
 the bruised face and lullabying the perturbed spirit, 
 the soft hand of the girl weaving a spell for the 
 wounded warrior. Long time they sat thus, and ever 
 and anon his single eye sought the face above it. 
 Something of wonder was stirring within him. Hers 
 was a beautiful face ; he had never known it before. 
 He had seen it a thousand times ; how was it that 
 the fact had escaped him ? ^' She ai-' putty as ther 
 sunset on ther mount'in," he assented dreamily, in- 
 
^Y IDYL OF ''SINKIN' MOUNTAIN." 87 
 
 dorsing his own compliment 5 "an' er dern sight 
 puttier." The remaining orb blinked at her dreamily 
 and closed beside its mate. 
 
 " "What yuh sayin', Zeke % " 
 
 *' I war er-sayin' er dern sight puttier ; thet 's what 
 I war er-sayin'/' he answered faintly. 
 
 "Who?'^ she asked softly. Then presently she 
 added, ^' Sal Boler % " One of EzekiePs eyes opened 
 wide 5 the other struggled in vain beneath its thick 
 blue curtain. 
 
 ''Who said Sal Boler ?'^ 
 
 She turned her face away and fixed her gaze upon 
 the distant peaks. Her reply was just audible and 
 full of pathos : 
 
 "Yuh went thar, Zeke. I did n' mean ter hyah 
 hit, but th' parson talked so loud. War she trooly a 
 widder, Zeke, an' — an' — did she trooly wanter come 
 an' be — Mistis Ezekiel Sykes down een Raccoon 
 HoUer?" 
 
 It was out at last ; and the sentence seemed to end 
 almost in a moan. One tear fell down from above 
 him, but it splashed only the little hand that soothed 
 his wounds. 
 
 " D'rindy," he answered after a long silence, " I had 
 er mind ter keep my jaw shet, but hit hain't no use 
 now. An' I don't care noway. D'rindy, Sal Boler 
 hes done j'ined ter er city feller, an' hit war him what 
 shet thet ar eye ! Hit makes yuh jump, an' hit made 
 
88 ^^ IDYL OF "SINKIN' MOUNTAIN." 
 
 me jump too, at fust. D'rindy, ef any man hed 
 er said ter me yestiddy mornin' when I went out er 
 thet gate, ^ Ezekiel Sykes, Sal Boler is j'ined ter er city 
 feller, an' th^ city feller is goin' ter lick yuh af o' night/ 
 I 'd er said he war er dinged fool ef no worser, an' 
 ter es face. But them ar is ther two things hes 
 come erbout. An I mus' say, thet while I don' think 
 no better er Sal Boler, but on the contrarywise do 
 set her down fer er huzzy, hit mus' be 'lowed thet 
 thar es suthin' more in city fellers 'n I most ginerally 
 have let on j only hit ain't er fair fight ter open up 
 'ith sub-binders on the ear when er man is hung een 
 his coat-sleeve." 
 
 "An' did yuh see 'er, Zeke ?" 
 
 " No. I seed whar she war said ter be er-livin', an' 
 then me an' the city feller thet had gimme a lift got 
 ter jawin', an' hit come out thet Sal Boler was done 
 j'ined unter him two weeks or more. One word 
 started ernuther," he added, "an' ernuther started 
 ther sub-binder." 
 
 Ezekiel was expanding under the humane treat- 
 ment, and could afford even to indulge in pleasantry. 
 
 Mrs. Sykes dissipated the charm that had been 
 woven about them by appearing suddenly with a 
 great quantity, though limited variety, of the physic 
 that " natur' " had called for in behalf of Ezekiel, and 
 to which the patient took kindly, not to say greedily. 
 Dorinda watched him eat with a vague unrest in her 
 
AN IDYL OF "SINKIN' MOUNTAIN." 89 
 
 heart. There is nothing at any time attractive to a 
 woman in the sight of a hungry man at his meals. 
 But when Ezekiel went in to lie down upon his 
 mothei*'s bed, as he used to when a boy when tired 
 or troubled, — and was he not still her boy? — 
 the deserted girl stood up gazing on the mountains 
 veiled in their violet mists into which the blue sky of 
 the ending day was melting, their depths shot with 
 roseate rays. The scene was miniatured in her 
 shadowy eyes, where a softer light was beaming. 
 
 " He 's come back free, an' he said my han' war soft 
 es er patch er moss, an' I war es putty es the sunset 
 on th' mountains : he said hit ! " Her eyelids drooped 
 over their orbs, and her chin sunk upon her breast. 
 Then, stai-ting as from a dream, she followed into 
 the house. 
 
 That night, when Dorinda lay dreaming in the lit- 
 tle shed-room so fuU of her own life, there came 
 down the valley a deep, booming, roaring volume of 
 sound, and the house trembled responsive to its 
 vibrations. Nearer it approached, and her room was 
 fiUed with the fierce light of an electric flash which 
 seemed to explode there. Blinded, stunned, terrified, 
 she groped toward the door and lifted the latch. She 
 was almost thrown down by the storm that burst in 
 upon her. The air seemed fuU of timbers, stones, 
 and flying drift, and the thunder was as the thunder 
 of the waters that come down at Tallulah when the 
 
90 ^^ IDYL OF ''SINKIN' MOUNTAIN.'' 
 
 river is full. Her voice when she called was beaten 
 back as a feather in her throat. The timbers of the 
 little room seemed about to fly apart. Gasping with 
 fear, unable to close the door against the mighty- 
 blast, she gave herself up for lost. With her limbs 
 benumbed, she tottered and fell. There, as she lay 
 awaiting death, a man came and in the screaming 
 fury of the storm lifted her in his arms. There was 
 a moment in which the deluge splashed her face and 
 the next instant she was drawn into the warm 
 kitchen. She saw by the tremulous light of the 
 mysterious flame the half-blackened face of Ezekiel 
 bent above her, and faintly as one calling afar off 
 heard his mother's voice : 
 
 ^' He holds th' thunder een es han' 
 An' rides upon th' storm," 
 
 just as the parson used to line it out at Zebulon. 
 Then came darkness. 
 
 When Dorinda gained consciousness her adopted 
 mother was bathing her facej they were alone, 
 Ezekiel having withdrawn at her command. The 
 storm was now at its height, and the room was full 
 of the sudden and fearful blazes. Dorinda struggled 
 to her feet again. Her lips moved rapidly, but all 
 sound was lost in the din of the battle waged about 
 them. Suddenly she broke from the elder woman's 
 clasp and rushed to the porch. For an instant her 
 mother thought that, crazed with fear, she had 
 
^^V IDYL OF "SINKIN' MOUNTAIN." 91 
 
 thrown herself into the storm, but in the next back 
 came the girl through the furious elements, drenched, 
 and with her hair blown wildly over her half-nude 
 shoulders. The lightning trembled over and seemed 
 to lick her form from head to foot, and by the sheen 
 of its liquid, wavy flame she saw that the girl's hand 
 clinched the little photograph of Ezekiel, torn from 
 its frame of mica, while her face in its beautiful 
 triumph seemed almost glorified. The secret was 
 written there. 
 
 " D'rindy, D'rindy, child ! " she cried. " Why hain't 
 yuh tole me af o' 1 '' 
 
 The words, screamed as they were in the night from 
 the heart of the woman, did not reach the girl, who 
 covered up the little picture in her chilled bosom, 
 and crouched shivering by the smoldering fire. Her 
 companion gazed upon her piteously, then kneeled 
 beside her, and, pointing upward, moved her lips. 
 Dorinda understood, and followed her example. Still 
 raged the storm ; such an one had never before burst 
 upon Raccoon Hollow. Suddenly there was a noise 
 as though the mountain itself had been riven asunder, 
 and the house shook until the crockery danced upon 
 the shelves. Then all grew still. Rising to her feet, 
 the elder woman drew the shivering girl to the bed 
 where the old man, deaf to the storm and oblivious of 
 life, slept the sleep of second childhood, wrapped a 
 blanket about her and thrust her under cover. 
 
 " Ma," she moaned, and the word sounded as it did 
 
92 AX IDYL OF '' SIXKIN' MOUNT 'IN." 
 
 when on that sad day years ago the kind-hearted 
 woman received her as a charge — '' Ma, kiss me onct, 
 please"; just the appeal made to the dead that lay 
 unresponsive to its frightened offspring. It was the 
 first time that she had used it since. With tears 
 streaming from her eyes the woman bent and kissed 
 her thrice, and her lips when she rose were wet with 
 the tears of the girl. 
 
 " An' him er-lovin' nobody but ole Tom Boleros gal/' 
 she said. " Hit 's more 'n I kin make out." 
 
IV. 
 
 In the morning, wlien Ezekiel looked forth from 
 the doorway, an appalling spectacle met his gaze. 
 The mountain had actually split asunder, and one half 
 had sunk far down below the other. So sharply was 
 the line drawn that a great pine, yielding one-half its 
 trunk to the departed, upreared the other with the 
 firmer rock, its white riven heart blazing the hillside 
 like a monument. Pale with astonishment, Ezekiel 
 gazed long upon the scene, but there was something 
 yet more appalling reserved for him — not a stalk of 
 corn was left in the valley ! His mother came to him, 
 and was silent too in awe at the desolation apparent 
 and the change in the familiar old mountain. " All 
 gone, Ma, all gone ! " he groaned. The lips of the pale 
 woman trembled. She was wont to say that her faith 
 was like the mountain, but was not the mountain split 
 at last ? Her hand rested upon him as it had, oh so 
 many, many times when trouble oppressed them. 
 
 " Th^ Lord '11 pervide, Ezekiel. He kep' us in the 
 night, an' he kin keep us in th' day." 
 
 ^^ I be'n hyarin' that. Ma, all these years, an' now 
 look ! Poorer 'n' poorer year een an' year out. Es 
 fur me, I war whupped when Pa got inter troubP 'ith 
 
94 AN IDYL OF " SINKIN' MOUNTAIN." 
 
 tlie law an' we had ter sell all ter pay out. Th' Lord 
 maybe did pervide, but hit 's be'n mighty hard livin' 
 sence." 
 
 " Hush, Ezekiel ! " the woman whispered. " Hit 's 
 blaspheemy! Leave hit erlone; th' righteous '11 
 never beg bread ; leave hit erlone. Th' han' thet kin 
 split mount'ins kin pervide fur hits own." 
 
 The light had come back to the weary face, and it 
 was almost beautiful in its new faith as she turned 
 humbly and went about her household duties. But 
 Dorinda, watching her, thought that her step was 
 feebler than she had ever seen it. 
 
 " Aun' Betsey," she said, putting her arm upon her 
 shoulder, " don't yuh give up." 
 
 " Give up ! No, deary 5 I ain't er-givin' up. But ef 
 ther Lord hed er tuck us las' night, I would n' er 
 lifted a finger ter hender him. Hit warn't his will, 
 D'rindy, an' I 'm willin' ter wait." 
 
 It was a gloomy day for Raccoon Hollow. Ezek- 
 iel, under the lingering pains of his old misfortune 
 and the new, wandered about disconsolate, and when 
 morning dawned again the last of the Sykes' meal 
 went into pones of bread. 
 
 The mystery of the mountain spread far and near. 
 The day upon which the fortunes of the Sykes family 
 seemed at their lowest ebb was signalized by the arrival 
 of an excursion party from The Falls. Ten or twelve 
 ladies and gentlemen on horseback and in vehicles 
 
^V IDYL OF ''SINEIN' MOUNTAIN:' 95 
 
 rode over to see ttie wonder, bringing a well-ordered 
 lunch. They chattered over the catastrophe, climbed 
 the mountain, and presently the ladies rendezvoused 
 at the little house. Here the lunch was spread, and 
 Dorinda brought water from the spring and rendered 
 many little kindly services. After lunch the party 
 swarmed unceremoniously over the premises, includ- 
 ing Dorinda's little room, which delighted them as 
 much, probably, as the mountain interested. Especial 
 attention was devoted by the ladies to the delicate 
 traceries upon the mica frame, to which Ezekiel's 
 photograph had been carefully restored. A hand- 
 some, grave young gentleman was asked to examine 
 it. He did so, and turning to Dorinda, whose cheeks 
 flushed, perhaps by the praise already bestowed, 
 asked : 
 
 '^ Where did that mica come from?" 
 
 " Well, now, is n^t that just like Captain Moore ! " 
 exclaimed one of the ladies. " We were not talking 
 about the mica, sir, but the tracings." 
 
 He smiled. " The tracings have great merit," he 
 said J "but there is more money in mica that will 
 split into such large clear sheets than in all the art 
 that can be put upon it. You say that you found it 
 near here ? " This to Dorinda. 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " And will you go with me to see it in the morning, 
 if I return ? " 
 
96 ^^ IDYL OF ''SINKIN' MOUNTAIN." 
 
 " Yes, sir, ef yiili wants me, an' th' mountain hain't 
 sunk 'ith liit." The party began to prepare for de- 
 parture. Presently there was a brief consultation 
 among the gentlemen ; then as some were galloping 
 away one of them approached Mrs. Sykes and poured 
 a handful of small silver into her hand. " For your 
 kind attentions/' he said. Before she comprehended 
 he mounted and galloped away, leaving her speech- 
 less with surprise and emotion. Ezekiel came out 
 of the wood where he had concealed his disfigure- 
 ment all day, and there on the porch he and Dorinda 
 found her sitting. Tears were running down her 
 cheeks, and she made no effort to restrain them. 
 She held out the hand blessed with so much silver. 
 
 " Ezekiel," she said, and then her eyes lifted upward 
 and finished the sentence. He comprehended. 
 
 '^ Yes, Ma," he said gently, " yuh ar' right an' I ai*' 
 wrong, es ar' most commonly true." But the girl put 
 her arms around her and kissed the wrinkled cheeks 
 in silence. 
 
 Early the next day sensitive Ezekiel took to shelter 
 again, for Captain Moore kept his promise. Ezekiel 
 was hidden on the mountain, from which he beheld 
 the gentleman and Dorinda pick their way across the 
 rift to the far side. It was a difficult journey, and 
 though the girl was as agile as a deer, Ezekiel noticed 
 with a queer pain at his heart that the stranger 
 insisted upon extending his hand to her every time 
 occasion offered, and that it was always accepted. 
 

 
 'Look out above your bowlder, Ezekiel." 
 
^^Y IDYL OF ''SINKIN' MOUNTAIN," 97 
 
 ''Dad blast th' feller .'"he said: ''he^d better git 
 her ter help him, stidder him er-helpin^ her." 
 
 The girl was in a particularly merry mood. Did 
 she suspect that the single eye of the disfigured 
 doctor was upon her? She was a woman, and the 
 curious can argue the conclusion. Her laughter 
 rang out across the rift, and he found himself angry 
 and uncomfortable generally. Heigh-ho, Ezekiel 
 Sykes ! You cannot understand nature after all, can 
 you ? See that leap she has just made, her hair flying 
 and poke-bonnet waving. How beautifully done! 
 The gentleman does not follow — ah, but he does, 
 and she beams upon his success. Look out above 
 your bowlder, Ezekiel, with your one capable eye, 
 and mutter "Dad blast him ! " as much as you 
 please ; they are not concerned about you. 
 
 The mica was found more than ever uncovered by 
 the slide ; a wonderful seam it was, hemmed in by 
 quartz. The gentleman said little, but was evidently 
 deeply interested. Finally he ascertained, by casual 
 questions, that the ownership was vested in Mrs. 
 Sykes. But the next day he came again, and again 
 •the girl accompanied him. He was trying to follow 
 the vein. And the history of one day was as the 
 history of its predecessor, even down to Ezekiel. 
 
 But at last, standing over the mica, the captain 
 and the girl held a long and earnest conversation. 
 Ezekiel saw her give him her hand impulsively, 
 and they came back, her .face flushed, her eyes 
 
98 -4A^ IDYL OF "SINKIN' MOUNTAIN." 
 
 sparkling. The truth, as it appeared to Ezekiel, was 
 unmistakable, and he was full of rage when he saw 
 the stranger depart and Dorinda wave her bonnet in 
 response to a wave of his hat. But alas for Ezekiel ; 
 there was no time for questions. A second large 
 party had come up from The Falls and swarmed over 
 the place, and back into the friendly shadows of the 
 mountain the young man carried his poulticed ear 
 and picturesque scars. When this party left, the 
 trustful and hospitable old lady was again blessed 
 with coin. 
 
 So ran the summer awayj but ere it had ended, 
 the little home, or " Aunt Betsey's," as it had come to 
 be known, became a regular rendezvous for visitors, 
 who got there midday meals, bought strings of bead- 
 corn, posies of gay flowers, and queer bits of quartz and 
 mica with delicate traceries upon the latter. The cow 
 and chickens had come back ; the pigs, too, returned; 
 yes, and the bee-hives. And everything about the 
 yard straightened up, as with new life, from their 
 leaning attitudes. From the rafters of the kitchen 
 were hung yarns and provisions and shoes for the 
 long winter, and scores of other articles for home 
 use ; and on the shelves were bolts of cloth, canned 
 goods, and all the necessaries of life. Dorinda^s gown 
 was as nice as anybody's. The smile of God seemed 
 to rest upon Raccoon Hollow and the riven mountain. 
 
How was it with Ezekiel? The clouds still hung 
 low. The intuition of the young woman had placed 
 her in possession of his secret before he knew that he 
 had one, and with the perversity of her sex she turned 
 the tables upon him. Her smiles were distributed 
 among the tourists, and she learned to give keen an- 
 swers to their good-humored banterings. Often he 
 had tried to tell her of his misery, but with the train- 
 ing she had been receiving from the beaux and co- 
 quettes, he was no match for her. One day she went 
 to him with a great secret. 
 
 '^ Zeke ! " she said, *^ I ar' er-goin' ter tell yuh 
 suthin'. Th' parson war erlong ter-day, an^ tickled 
 nigh unter death. He do say hit 's all er joke erbout 
 Sal Boler's gittin' j'ined to thet ar city feller, which 
 war er drummer an' er-foolin' yuh. Th' parson say 
 es how hit 's all over Calliny, an' folks es er-torkin 
 erbout 'Zeke Sykes's los' widder'." She held her 
 sides, and followed up the information with a most 
 provoking spasm of mirth. Ezekiel gasped for breath. 
 His voice was hoarse when he spoke at last 
 
 '' Th' parson tole yuh ?" 
 
100 ^N IDYL OF "SINKIN' MOUNTAIN." 
 
 "On course. He come straight from Sal's, an' she 
 tole 'im 'ith her own mouth. Now yuh kin go back, an' 
 Sal kin be ^ Mistis Ezekiel Sykes down een Raccoon 
 Holler.' '' There was just the faintest tremor in her 
 voice, but Ezekiel was beyond the comprehension of 
 fine shadings then. She had expected an outburst ; 
 there was none. The young man walked off, and the 
 signs were unmistakable ; he was crushed. 
 
 " Zeke, are yuh hurted bad sure 'nough ? " she called 
 after him repentantly. He made no reply. When he 
 came back later she was sitting on the steps. 
 
 "Ma," he said, "I 'm er-goin' ter Th' Falls, an' 
 maybe I won't come back 'n er week; an' maybe 
 hit '11 be two. They do say es how thar ar' more 
 chance fur mount'in men in Alabam', an' I 'm er-git- 
 tin' sorter worrit down here, I '11 tork ter yuh when 
 I 'm done torkin' ter them thet knows. Thar be 
 some erbout Th' Falls now thet knows." He kissed 
 her cheek, an odd caress for Ezekiel, and affected not 
 to see her anxious look. 
 
 " Good-bye, D'rindy," he said, as he passed her on 
 the steps. " New frien's es better 'n ole frien's." A 
 great lump rose in the girl's throat ; she could not 
 speak. He passed through the gateway and took the 
 road that led to The Falls, walking listlessly. She 
 watched him for a moment, then rose and darted after 
 him, her light step giving out scarcely a sound. If 
 he heard, he made no sign. Presently she laid a hand 
 
AN IDYL OF ''SINXm' MOxfNT'YN^ ' ' lol 
 
 upon liis shoulder, and then he turned and looked 
 down into the violet eyes, while a trembling seized 
 him. 
 
 " Zeke," she said, a little smile quivering upon her 
 lips, " when yuh git ter Alabam' won't yuh write er 
 letter?" 
 
 ^' One writes ter yuh now, an' one es ernough." 
 He blurted the words out and drew from under her 
 touch. 
 
 " O Zeke ! '^ She looked at him with such reproach 
 that he was half ashamed. Then she laughed, point- 
 ing her finger at him. ^* Zeke, I do berlieve yuh er- 
 slippin' off ter court Sal Boler ergin." She bent 
 almost double with the idea. 
 
 " No, I be n't," he said hoarsely. 
 
 " Yuh ar', Zeke. Yuh ar' ! An' O Zeke, ef yuh be, 
 look out fur drummers on th' road ! " 
 
 He turned and strode off without a word more. 
 She leaned her back against a tree weak with laugh- 
 ing, her feet thrust out in front. Presently she 
 called him. 
 
 " Zeke ! " He turned and glared back at her in 
 silence. "Zeke Sykes," she continued, "yuh ar^ er 
 bigger fool 'n I seen this year, an' thar 's be'n some 
 big ones ^round hyar, th' Lord knows." Her face 
 was flushed and she held out her arms. " Zeke, take 
 me erlong ter Alabam', won't yuh % " He came back 
 doubting, but the arms were not lowered, and into 
 
102 AN IDYL OF ''SINEIN' MOUNTAIN." 
 
 them he walked, speechless with the change from 
 despair to happiness. He held her a long time. 
 " D'rindy/' he said, ^^ an' yuh love me arter all ? " 
 ''Yes, an' afo' all — fom th' fus' time when joih 
 used ter tote me on yuh back over ther rocks. O 
 Zeke ! I hain't never loved nobody else in th' whole 
 worl' but yuh." Tears crept from under the half- 
 closed eyelids, and then there was silence as he 
 pressed her close to him. 
 
 "Well," said Ezekiel finally, '^I war er fool mos^ 
 trooly." 
 
 Two more incidents close the idyl of " Sinkin' 
 Mount'in," as Zeke's sign-board at the fork of the 
 roads has it. The captain's letters, spelled out with 
 much labor, gave assurance of a sale of the mica 
 deposit at a good price. This is one. The other is : 
 In the closing hours of the season, Ezekiel, wander- 
 ing about the hotels, met face to face the drummer 
 who had made him a jest throughout one corner of 
 Carolina. He spoke not a word, but kept his eye on 
 the practical joker until he had drawn his own arms 
 entirely free of that fatal coat and dropped it to the 
 earth. Then he slapped his thigh. 
 
 '' Stranger," he said, " yuh be er-lookin' on Ezekiel 
 Obadiah Sykes." 
 
 A smile came to the other's face. 
 
 " Ah ! " said he. " ' Natur's doctor.' " 
 
AN IDYL OF " SINKIN' MOUNTAIN." 103 
 
 " Th^ same. Stranger, Sal Boleros husbun' thet 
 wa'n't ar^ goin^ ter git whupped een erbout two min- 
 nuts." He laiinclied forth with a mighty sub-binder, 
 and — well, truth is truth — the next instant was 
 knocked off his feet flat on his back. Rising to a 
 sitting position, stunned, dizzy, and astounded, he 
 gazed a moment up into the smiling face of the scien- 
 tific boxer above him. 
 
 " Ezekiel," he said to himseK softly, " Ezekiel Sykes, 
 yuh be er dinged fool mos' trooly." Slowly picking 
 up his coat, he turned his back on the assembling 
 crowd and took the road for Raccoon Hollow. As he 
 approached the house after his long journey the 
 humor of the situation overcame him, and he chuckled 
 quietly to himself. 
 
 ^' Th^ feller be full er sub-binders es er hog be full 
 er fleas," he said ; and then as Sinking Mountain rose 
 before him he added, cocking one eye and coming to 
 a standstill : " Hit ain't onpossible thet it war th' 
 same chap busted thet ar mountain ! " 
 
"OLE MISS" AND "SWEETHEART." 
 
 I. 
 
 HAD reached the ridge by such gradual 
 ascents that I scarcely realized how high 
 it was. The last single bird my dog had 
 set passed straight away over the top, 
 trailing a broken leg ; and partly to seek 
 him, and partly to reach a point from which I might 
 locate the railroad whence in the early morning I 
 had wandered, I followed the route he chose. At 
 the top I found myself upon an old bastion, one of 
 the few visible footprints of war, for Macon was not 
 many miles away, and here, but for the armistice that 
 followed Appomattox, "Wilson would have met an 
 armed foe instead of a flag of truce. 
 
 The scene before me was transcendently beautiful. 
 An undulating plain lay spread at my feet, and ten 
 miles away the blue hills rose up again and hemmed 
 it in. This plain was dotted here and there with 
 cabins — the mansions were nearly all gone. The 
 exceptions stood forth in the distance — white homes 
 
 104 
 
''OLE MISS'' AXD " sweetheaet:' 105 
 
 studding the green slopes. Curving round the base 
 of my hill ran the steel bands of the railroad, and 
 not two miles away I saw the station. 
 
 The sun with me was shining with a fierce glare, 
 and I wondered at the cheerful song of the negroes 
 near at hand, picking cotton from the white rows 
 which stood in ranks about the abandoned fort. But 
 away off straight ahead a broad shadow lay upon the 
 plain over which the clouds swept grandly eastward, 
 and ten miles to the right I saw the trailing rain 
 rushing across a darkened belt of woods. From this 
 cooling spot the wind came with a delicious touch. 
 
 " Yes, sir," said a boy, whose labors had brought 
 him abreast of me, '^ dere ^s a spring down yonner." 
 
 He pointed to where on the plain two great Lom- 
 bardy poplars lifted their boughs skyward, and 
 thither, with almost parched lips, down the steep 
 gravelly slopes I moved. 
 
 As I approached nearer the two poplars, I saw that 
 they stood to the right and left of a plantation bur- 
 ial-ground, whose rocky wall was overgrown with 
 ivj, and interior with weeds. Beyond, two desolate- 
 looking chimneys reared themselves in a clump of 
 cedars, the nearest trees blackened and dead, as if 
 from the touch of flames. My dog, with his nose in 
 air, ran into the inclosure, and stood upon a " point." 
 Passing under the poplars, I followed, with my gun 
 ready ; but nothing rose, and after one or two hesi- 
 
106 ''OLE MISS" AND ''SWEETHEART." 
 
 tating starts, he pounced -iipon a dead bird and 
 brought it to my feet. It had flown until its life 
 was exhausted. 
 
 Then I noticed that the graves about me were 
 marked by slabs, and on them I read the record of 
 many Cassels who were "born" and who "died" 
 according to the dates opposite these respective an- 
 nouncements. But one grave differed in its appoint- 
 ments. It bore the simple words " Old Miss," and was 
 as white and clean as if laid but yesterday. There 
 w^as no date, no epitaph 5 only the white slab and the 
 legend " Old Miss." As I studied it curiously a gaudy 
 Hzard came from the weeds upon the hot stone, and 
 questioned me with his bright eyes. 
 
 Passing out, I saw, a short way off, beneath the 
 low, wide-spreading limbs of a black-gum, a cabin, 
 and the red and blue turbans of two negro women. 
 The dog had already announced my presence, and 
 hurried on to the spring, guided by an unerring 
 instinct. A little darky in one short garment peeped 
 from behind his grandmammy, where he had fled from 
 the brute's cold, inquisitive nose, and as I approached, 
 the eyes of all three were turned upon me. 
 
 " Yes, sah," one of the women replied, putting aside 
 a bread- tray, into which she was shelling pease ; " en 
 hit ^s good water, too. Set down, sah, teU I fetch er 
 gourd." 
 
 " No, sah, don't nobody live heah 'cep'n' me en de 
 
''OLE MISS" AND ''SWEETHEART." 107 
 
 chillun/^ said the other, who had respectfully taken 
 her cob pipe from her mouth and laid it aside. A 
 pail- of bright little eyes regarded me kindly from 
 under a pair of enormous silver-rimmed spectacles, 
 which had been pushed up over her forehead and 
 were blankly studying the sky. The voice was low 
 and peculiarly gentle. " De Cass'ls used ter live heah 
 tell der war cummed on, den dey uz mosly killed 
 up } en den de yarmy cum erlong en bu^nt de place. 
 En Ole Miss died." She looked at me curiously as she 
 asked, suddenly, ^' Does you know any uv de f ambly ? " 
 
 ^^ No ; but I saw a grave up yonder, with ' Old 
 Miss ' cut on it." 
 
 The old face took on a new light as I spoke. I 
 began to recognize the old "mammy" of an ante- 
 helium Southern home. 
 
 " Yes, sah, we alls used to call 'er dat, ^cause she 
 wuz Marse Alleck's widder; en atter while Young 
 IVIiss cum erlong. Hit 's er pity you did n' know Ole 
 Miss. Lord, Lord, but she uz er lady fum erway 
 back ! '' 
 
 " Dat she wuz," interpolated the younger woman, 
 who stood by while I drank the cooling draught from 
 her long-handled gourd. " None er dese heah hifa- 
 lutin' kind ; no, sah. She uz es tall ^mos' es you, en 
 es straight es er Ingin, w'ich uz natchul, fur she cum 
 fum Firginny, en dey do say one uv 'er great-grand- 
 ma's wuz pure Ingin herse'f ." 
 
108 "OLE MISS" AND "SWEETHEART." 
 
 The dog, having, after the fashion of setters, cooled 
 himself in the spring, was stretched upon the ground, 
 watching me with half-shut eyes. The shade was 
 refreshing and the rest welcome. I settled down in 
 the white-oak chair, while the young woman resumed 
 her pea-shelling, and let the garrulous old mammy 
 continue with her memories. The show of attention 
 was a small price to pay for the relaxation of limbs 
 in this cool shade. 
 
 The speaker continued slowly : " But Ole Miss uz 
 er lady, en er fine lady at dat, fum de time Ole Mars- 
 ter fetch 'er down heah in de kerridge, wid es grays 
 jes' er-prancin', tell she uz laid out up yonner by 'im, 
 dead. Nobody nev'r saw 'er when she warn't dressed 
 up like she uz er-goin' ter er party. En lace ! Well, 
 sah, up ter de las' ole silk dress she had lef wuz split- 
 tin' in de creases she had real lace caps en collars, 
 en lace on 'er sleeves en han'kerchiffs. Wen she 
 warked she jes' sorter move erlong wid 'er he'd 'way 
 up yonner, en did n't look like she uz er-stepp'n' at all. 
 Nobody nev'r knowed 'er ter laf out loud ; but she 'd 
 smile de sweetes', en 'er voice uz sof, like de win' out 
 yonner in de pines. But dat uz w'en she uz at peace 
 wid uz all ; but jus' you let 'er git riled — en et took 
 er heap ter rile 'er, lemme tell you — en 'er eyes 'u'd 
 dance, en 'er words cut de arr like de oberseer's whup 
 on er bad nigger's back. 'T wus de same way w'en she 
 uz er gal. But kind en good ! Lord ! I seen 'er menny 
 
''OLE MISS" AXD ''SWEETHEART." 109 
 
 er-time go down dem back steps en set up over yon- 
 ner in de quarters wid er sick nigg'r all night long, 
 er-doin' fur 'er like she uz white en kin ; en she wid 
 'er silks en laces on too ! You know den dere warn't 
 nair' nigger on de place but 'd er died fur Ole Miss ; en 
 well dey might, fur God knows she uz er good ooman, 
 en had seen er heap er trubbl'. Ef had n't er been fur 
 de baby, I don't reck'n she 'd er held out es long es 
 she did." 
 
 '' So there was a baby ? " 
 
 " Yes, sah. You see," she continued, '^ Marse Frank 
 uz erbout all de Cass'ls dat uz lef. Wen he uz killed 
 up yonner at — at — watcher call it ? — Getty " 
 
 '^Gettysburg?" 
 
 ''Yes, sah. Wen Marse Frank uz killed, ev'y- 
 body sed de race uz gone ; but bime-by er little gal 
 cum, en 'er ma en Ole Miss all fell ter cryin', en dey 
 gave 'er her pa's name. But 'er ma called 'er Sweet- 
 heart, en so ev'ybody got ter callin' her dat." 
 
 " En I reck'n," said Mandy, " nair' nuther baby like 
 'er nev'r lived." 
 
 " You see," said the first speaker, whose memories 
 had been stirred, " Mandy heah used ter nuss 'er, 
 'cause her ma uz weak en sickly ; but nuth'n' 'u'd do 
 but I mus' tu'n gal ergin en ten' dat baby. Dat uz 
 'er gran'ma's noshun — Miss Carrie warn't nuth'n' but 
 er gal 'erself w'en Marse Frank tuk 'er right out uv 
 er ballroom en fetch 'er heah. But she uz er lady down 
 
no ''OLE MISS'' AND ''SWEETHEARTS 
 
 ter 'er heels, en es good, en had es good er heart, es 
 de bes\ Only she did n't know nuth'n' 'bout babies, 
 en me en all de f ambly, f um Ole Miss on, had ter he'p. 
 But 't warn't 'er fault the baby died." 
 
 ^^Died?" 
 
 "Yes, sah; hit died. I know'd fum de fust what 
 uz er-goin' ter happ'n. Sum time hit look ter me 
 like er baby es er heap old'r 'n hit is. Dis wun uz 
 er-laughin' en er-crow'n' 'f o' hit uz er week ole, en I 
 told Mandy den dat hit uz er bad sign. Cry? No, 
 sah. En she know'd folks by deir names. Ef enny- 
 body 'd say, '■ Mammy,' she set eyes on me ; en ef dey 
 call er ma's name, she 'd tu'n roun' en look like she uz 
 er-lis'nin\ One night I wake up, en she uz er-lay'n' 
 dere laugh'n' en er-call'n' ' Papa ' ; en hit look ter me 
 like she uz er-talk'n' ter sumbody wot uz wid 'er ; but 
 dey wuz n't nobody dere, en 'er pa uz de'd en buried 
 'mos' two years back. Lord ! Lord ! but de chile's 
 ways did worry me ; en I know'd w'at uz cummin'. 
 Wen she I'arnt ter say '■ Mamma,' look ter me like 
 Miss Carrie 'u'd kiss 'er ter def ; en den she 'u'd cry 
 en say, ' Ef 'er pa c'u'd only hev lived ! ' En den she 'd 
 hug de baby en cry ergin." 
 
 " Miss Carrie uz er mighty good ooman," said 
 Mandy, pouring her pease into a basket, and replen- 
 ishing her tray from the unshelled stock — " er mighty 
 good ooman." 
 
 " Dat she wuz — es good es de bes'. En dat chile ! — 
 
''OLE MISS'' AND ''SWEETHEART." HI 
 
 look like hit uz her life. Young marster, I reck'u 
 you don't know nuthin' 'bout babies, en can't tellj 
 but I 'tended Ole Miss, en Ole Miss's chillun, en dey 
 chillun too, en I tell you sumtimes dere cum erlong 
 one w'at 's goin' ter 'stonish ev'ybody j en dis uz de 
 wun in de Cass'l fambly. Hit warn't menny munts 
 'fo' hit 'u'd lay erwake in de night, en talk en talk like 
 grow'd-up folks, but nobody uz dere'bouts 'cep'n' me 
 en Young Miss, en she uz mos' gener'ly ersleep ; en, 
 bless yo' soul, honey ! I warn't goin' ter wake 'er up ; 
 hit 'u'd cum soon ernuff. 'T ain't fur me ter say who 
 dat chile uz er-talkin' ter, but dere uz sumbody dere 
 wid 'er, en I kivered up my he'd many er time, 'cause 
 I nev'r know'd w'at dey might er wanted ter say. 
 Warn't nobody gwine ter hu't dat chile, do'. En den 
 ter heah 'er sing ^ la ! la ! la ! ' en ' la ! la ! la ! ' — sorter 
 prac's'n' like ! Psha ! I tole Mandy den po' Miss 
 Carrie uz goin' ter see trouble. Hit warn't natchul 
 fur er baby ter nev'r cry, en ter be er-talkin' ter 'erse'f 
 in de night-time. En Ole Miss uz sorter worr'd 'bout 
 et too, only she would n't let on dat she wuz. One 
 day," she continued, after reaching over to shove a 
 chunk under the kettle boiling near at hand — ^^ one 
 day she uz er-layin' dere singin' w'en er yaller butt'r- 
 fly cum in de room, en dance erbout tell 'e find 'er. 
 He sorter balunce roun' 'er er minit, en sudden like 
 she stop en look et hit wi' dem big brown eyes. En 
 den de butt'rfly look at her, stan'in' on de piller en 
 
112 ''OLE MISS" AND ''SWEETHEART:' 
 
 er-movin^ es wings up en down, so/' — she gave a capi- 
 tal representation of the movement, — '^ en den he 
 dance ronn' en go out de winder ergin. Well, sah, 
 dat chile jes' lay dere lookin' at dat winder, en bime- 
 by she sorter smile er li'l', en 'er eyes shot, en she uz 
 ersleep 'fo^ you could er tu'ned roun\ Jes' 'bout dat 
 time er mock'n'-burd fly down by de winder, and sing 
 tell I hatter go en run em erway. Sum folks don't 
 take notus uv signs en warnin's," she continued, look- 
 ing at me cautiously, '' but dere ain' nuthin' kin keep 
 ole mammy fum blievin' dere uz more in dat den er 
 stray butterfly projec'n' roun\" She paused just long 
 enough to bestow a whack upon the little darky for 
 " chunkin' " chips at the dog. " Ain' menny munts 
 pass 'f o' dat baby start ter walkin', en den we had et, 
 sho nuff. Look like she did n' wanter go now'ere but 
 out yonner in de frunchard, where Ole Miss's flow'rs 
 used ter wuz. I nev'r seed sech a chile fur flow'rs ; 
 en lemme tell you I tended 'em all fum erway back. 
 She ain' pull 'em like nair' nuth'r wun uv em. Now 
 Marse Frank uz putty much de same way 'bout 'em ; 
 but he nev'r lef nuthin' grow'n' w'en he went 'long, 
 but 'u'd knock down ev'yt'ing he could get es hands 
 on ; en menny 's de time I seen Ole Miss box es jaws 
 'bout et, too," she added, shaking silently over the 
 far-away picture. ^^But 't warn't so wid de baby. 
 Sum flow'rs she would n' tech ter save yer. She 'd 
 paddle right erlong by de pinks en de jewrainyems 
 
''OLE MISS" AND '' SWEETHEABT." 113 
 
 en de ^santhymums, en stan' up under er ole red rose 
 bush en tek wun down. En she ^d pick et open, en 
 talk en talk en talk tell hit 'u'd 'mos' run me crazy. 
 En fus^ sing you know, yonner she 'd go er-paddl'n' 
 cPar 'cross de yard, en git er ole mornin'-glory en talk 
 ter hit. Need n^ tell me dat chile did n' know w'at she 
 uz erbout ! En nuthin' would n' pest'r 'er nuth'r. I 
 seen 'er tek er bumble-bee out'n er mornin'-glory 
 menny er time, en hold em up tell he 'd fly off. 'Fear'd 
 dey'd sting 'er? No, sah. Dey know'd 'er, en she 
 know'd dem. You kin laugh, en I reck'n hit's hard 
 fur city folks ter b'lieve, but hit 's true. En de hum- 
 min'-burds! Lord! you'd er laughed sho' nuff ter 
 seen 'em sorter draw back out'n re'ch uv 'er ban's en 
 look 'er in de eye, wid deir coats er-shinin' in de sun 
 like er June-bug's back. En butt'rflies 1 Dey 'd skip 
 roun' 'er all de time, en ef she had shooger in 'er 
 ban's — which she had mighty of'n, 'cause Ole Miss 
 let 'er go ter de shooger-dish 'bout when she wanted 
 ter — dey 'd set on top 'er fingers, en jes' keep out'n 
 fum betwix' 'em. Nuthin' would n' hu't dat chile. 
 No, sah. She slip off one day, w'en I uz er sorter 
 nodd'n' out dere und'r de mulberry by de kitchen, en, 
 bless yo' soul ! w'en I woke up she uz er-sett'n' down 
 frunt er ole Bull, er-pilin' san' on es he'd, en Bull uz 
 er-layin' dere wid es years pull back, er-lett'n' 'er do 
 'bout like she please. Bad ? Yes, sah. Ain' but one 
 nigg'r on de place could tie up dat dog, en he wuz 
 
114 ''OLE MISS" AND ''SWEETHEART:' 
 
 Vay off yonner in de cott'n. I tell you dere uz a 
 time den, 'cause Ole Miss had dun cum out on de 
 po'ch, en uz er-care'in' on pow'ful. Don't make no 
 diffunce w'ere dat baby wuz, Ole Miss cum erlong 
 putty soon. En hit took er heap er talk'n' ter get de 
 baby back, 'cause ev'y time ennybody went dere, Bull 
 showed es teef, en dat uz ernuff. But bime-by she 
 git up en cum off by 'erse'f, en ole Bull sorter lay es 
 he'd down on one foot, en sweep de groun' behine em 
 wid es tail, axin' 'er es plain es 'e could talk ter cum 
 back. I know'd nuthin' warn't goin' ter hu't dat 
 chile. 
 
 ^' Yes, sah, she kep' well, too, 'cep'n' wid 'er teef. 
 Dey uz mighty hard on 'er fum de fus', but she git 
 erlong well ernuff tell dem eye-teef reddy ter cum. 
 You see, Miss Carrie uz er town gal, en ez good er 
 hearted ooman es ev'r lived, — I ain' er-say'n' nuth'n' 
 ergin 'er, — but she did n't know nuth'n' 'bout de 
 Cass'l babies j en w'en I brought er string er wood- 
 ants, jes' same es Marse Frank cut teef wid, ter hang 
 'roun' de baby's neck, she laf 'erse'f 'mos' to def, en 
 sed we uz ' soopstishus nigg'rs,' en she would n' 'low 
 no sech doin's wid her baby. En w'en Mandy fetched 
 er string er snail-sheUs, w'ich es mighty good dey- 
 sevs, she laffed ergin, en give 'er er silver quarter; 
 but she would n' let 'em go on de baby nuth'r. Den 
 ole 'Liza cum wun day wid er mole's foot, en hit 
 could n' go dere nuth'r. En w'en Ole Miss wanted er 
 
"OLE MISS" AND ''SWEETHEART." 115 
 
 rabbit killed en hits brains rubbed on de baby's gums, 
 Lord ! but sech cryin' en care'in' on you nev'r seed 
 sence you uz born'd. 
 
 *' Well, so hit went ; en one day I seed Miss Carrie 
 dancin' de baby up en down 'fo' de lookin'-glass, en 
 dat settr et. I told Mandy den dere uz er-goin' 
 ter be troubP sho'. Ain' nuth'n' hu't me wuss 'n dat. 
 I'd dun hel' in tell I could n' stan' hit no long'r, en 
 wun day I seed Ole Miss er-watch'n' de chile when 
 she tort nobody uz erroun', en I seed fum 'er face she 
 warn't satusfied. Den I sed, look'n' her fair in de 
 face, ' Ole Miss, dere 's sum'n' wrong wid dis hear 
 chile, en you ought n' ter set store by 'er too much.' 
 Bless your soul ! you orter seen 'er ; she shuk all 
 ov'r, en 'er face tu'n white. 
 
 '^ ' Hush ! ' she said, so loud hit like ter skeer'd de 
 life out er me. En den she whispered, ^ No ! no ! no ! 
 dere 's sum mussy lef ' in Hebb'n yet,' en went straight 
 ter 'er room. Den I know'd she'd dun seen hit too. 
 
 "Well, sah, troubl' cum right erlong. One day 
 w'en I had been ov'r ter de Simkinses' ter see my 
 tuther gal w'at 'd married er po' sort uv er nigg'r 
 ov'r dere — en 'e ain' no better now 'n 'e wuz den — 
 wud cum dat de baby uz mighty sick, en Ole Miss 
 hed sont de kerridge fur me. W'en I got dere I 
 foun' Miss Carrie settin' in 'er room wid de baby in 
 'er lap, en 'er eyes uz sot in er hard look. ' Mammy,' 
 she said, jes' es cool es I'm er-say'n' hit now, ^my 
 
116 "OLE MISS» AND "SWEETHEART" 
 
 baby es goin' to die.' You see, hit 'u'd dun cum ter 
 'er at las' jes' like hit did ter me at fus'. But I made 
 b'lieve she uz only sorter skeered, en tuk de baby. 
 Hit uz er-bu'nin' up wid f ev'r. Lord ! Lord ! how 
 hit all cums back ! She used ter lay 'er he'd down on 
 my shoulder en sleep w'en she would n' sleep no uth'r 
 way ; en w'en I tuk 'er up, she jes' say, loud ernuff 
 ter heah, ^ Mammy 'j en I say, ^ Yes, honey, mammy 
 goin' ter stay wid yer.' En I lay 'er he'd down dere 
 on my should'r. Well, sah, she uz er sick'r chile 'n I 
 know'd ; en w'en I look' at 'er, I nev'r seed sech a 
 change. Movin' 'er uz too much. 'Peared ter me like 
 she uz alreddy de'd, en I uz er-lookin' down in de 
 grave at 'er. En I b'lieve ef I had n't laid 'er down 
 mighty quick, she would er died right dere. En all 
 she sed uz ' Mammy.' Lord ! I 've hyard dat wurd 
 ev'r sence — ' Mammy.'" 
 
 The old woman turned to the fire again, and made 
 pretense to rearrange the chunks, while her daughter 
 bent silently over the tray. Presently she resumed : 
 
 " Dem wuz hard times. You see, we ought'r had 
 er heap we could n' git. Quinine uz scyarce, en 
 munny could n' buy hit, en we could n' bre'k de fev'r 
 enny uther way. En ice uz scyarce too. Well, we 
 watched en tended, tell bime-by de doct'r tuk Miss 
 Carrie en say she mus' res' ; en by dis time she might 
 es well res', 'cause de baby didn' know nobody, en 
 we all could do fer 'er heap bett'r 'n hits ma. So 
 
''OLE MISS" AND ''SWEETHEART:' 117 
 
 Miss Carrie went erlong upstairs 'mos' de'd 'erse'f, en 
 I promis' 'er she should see de baby 'fo' hit die. Well, 
 I watch^ all dat night en nex' day, en w'en de sun 
 went down I see er new look on 'er face — a hard, 
 de'd look — en 'er ban's were col' en stiff, en 'er eyes 
 sot. Den I went up ter Miss Carrie's room, 'cause I 
 know'd hit wuz time, but I did n' say nuthin'. ' I 
 know,' she said. ' Lemme see my baby wunst mo'. ' 
 En all I could do uz ter cry en ter he'p 'er down- 
 stairs. 
 
 " Well, sah, I ivuz 'stonished den, sho' nuff, ter see 
 how she tuk hit. I uz er-hold'n' 'er on my arm ter 
 keep 'er fum fall'n', 'cause she uz mighty sick en 
 weak like 'erse'f. She didn' cry en care' on, but jes' 
 lif 'er face up ov'r de baby en say, sof ' like, ' Tek 'er, 
 dear Christ, en keep 'er tell I cum.' 
 
 ^' ^ Cum now, honey,' says I, ' hit 's ernuff, hit 's er- 
 nuff. He '11 tek kyar uv 'er ; don't you worry 'bout 
 dat.' En so, lean'n' on me, she tu'ned to go. But she 
 ain't tek many steps 'fo' she look up in my face en 
 say, like 'er heart uz break'n', ^ Mammy, lemme teU 
 my baby good-night — lemme tell 'er good-night.' 
 En I could n' er he'p'd et ter save my life. Hit uz jes' 
 dark ernuff fur de lamps, en wun uz bu'nin' low. We 
 went back, en she ben' down dere en put 'er face close 
 ter de baby, en did n' nair' wun uv 'em move, but jes' 
 staid dere face ter face. We all tried ter look tuth'r 
 way, 'cause hit warn't right ter watch dem two, but 
 
118 ''OLE MISS" AND " SWJEETHEAET." 
 
 sumliow I could n^ En so at las' she tuk de littP face 
 in 'er han's en call'd 'er ' Sweetheart.' But dere ain' 
 no word cum back. En so she said ergin, sof like, 
 ' Sweetheart ' -, en still no word. Den she sed — en I 
 heah de wurds er-moan'n' in dat still room like hit uz 
 yestiddy: 'Sweetheart, mamma 's cum ter tell you 
 good-night — good-night en good-bye. You es goin' 
 up ter God, my baby, ter Christ, ter sleep in es arms, 
 not mine. I 'm goin' ter miss yer, baby, but yer won't 
 miss me, for He es tender — oh, yes. He es tend'r, 
 littP one 5 en papa is dere ter meet yer too. Don't 
 you git erfeai-'d uv de dark. Sweetheart. You won't 
 be by yo'se'f. Mammy will hoP wun han' tell Jesus 
 teks de yuther. En sum day — O Grod ! ' she moan'd 
 out, tu'nin' 'er he'd erway — ' sum day, darling, I 'm 
 goin' ter cum too. Good-bye ! good-bye ! good-bye ! ' 
 she kep' on er-sayin' good-bye, sof like, tell I could n' 
 heah et, fur she dun got cPar down wid 'er cheek ergin 
 de baby. 
 
 " Well, sah, de proof uz dere. Jes' den dat chile 
 cum back to hits body fur de fus' time in fo' days. 
 Hits eyes look right up a httP while, en den hit lif 
 hits lips jes' er littP, en den hits ma ben' down ergin 
 en tech 'em. She lif' 'er lips dis way free times, en 
 all de wimmin cry out, en I shouted too : ' Hit 's 
 God's mussy ; let 'er go now ! Hit 's God's mussy ; 
 letter go!' But she warn't reddy ter go. No, sah 5 
 she look dis way en dat way wid dem big eyes sot 
 on me, en she lif 'er lips; en 'er ma cry out, ^Kiss 
 
''OLE MISS" AND ''SWEETHEART:' 119 
 
 ^er, mammy, kiss 'er 5 she wants ter tell yer good-bye.' 
 En, bless yo' soul ! I down on my knees en kiss 'er, en 
 den 'er eyes shet. 
 
 '^ En Miss Carrie, wid er smile on 'er face, en stan'- 
 in' straight en strong, lif me up en lead me ter de do', 
 for I uz all broke down en er-cryin' like ev'body else. 
 At de do' she tu'n ergin en say, jes' es sweet like es 
 ev'r she talk in 'er life : ^ God es good ter me. We 're 
 goin' ter meet ergin. Sweetheart; you will sleep in 
 mamma's arms ergin, but not ter-night, not ter-night.' 
 En I felt 'er sorter tremble erginst me. 
 
 *^ Well, all this time Ole Miss warn't no mann'r ac- 
 count. She 'd cum in de room en sit dere look'n' at dat 
 chile 'n fannin' 'er slow en sof, en w'en de doctor 
 cum she 'd look at him ev'y time 'e sed ennything, but 
 nev'r so much es op'n' 'er mouf. Dere warn't no sleep 
 in 'er eyes. Menny 'er time she 'd cum in en look at 
 me in de night er-settin' dere, en den at de baby, en go 
 out. Bime-by she 'd cum ergin. She look'd like ter 
 me she uz er-warkin in 'er sleep 'erse'f, sorter skeer'd 
 en simple like. I know'd she warn't herse'f den. 
 But w'en me en Miss Carrie uz er-shak'n' dere in de 
 do', ev'ything change in er minit. You orter seen Ole 
 Miss den. She 'd been er-sett'n' dere, wid 'er face 
 white en still, look'n' at de baby, en now she riz up 
 sudd'n like, en stood wid 'er ha'r streamin' down on 
 'er should'rs, en she es straight es er Ingin, en 'er eyes 
 er-blazin'. 
 
 '^ ^ Go,' she said, pointin' 'er long finger at me. 
 
120 ''OLE MISS'' AND '' SWUETHEABT." 
 
 ' Tek dat chile ter 'er room, en cum back heah/ Her 
 voice sung out cl'ar, en cut the arr like er bell er-ring- 
 in'. I know'd 'er den. She started ter wark de room 
 en I hyard 'er keep er-sayin', ' Fools ! fools ! fools ! ' 
 Miss Carrie give 'er one quick look, en I hyard her 
 say, ' Po' ole mamma ! ' Den I got 'er upstairs ergin. 
 "Wen I cum back, dere wuz Ole Miss still er- 
 wark'n' en er-sayin', ' Fools ! po' weak fools ! ' ter 
 'erse'f . En ev'y wunst 'n er while she 'd toss up 'er 
 ban's en shake 'er he'd en sorter trimble all over. All 
 er sudd'n she shouted out, ^ She shall not die ! ' Wid 
 dat she warked out inter de nex' room like she uz done 
 gone crazy sho' nuff. I tell yer I uz skeer'd den, 'cause 
 hit did look ter me like Ole Miss might give out en 
 drop down de'd ; so I slipp'd up ter de do' en watch'd 
 'er. She went er-stormin' up ter de closet dere, en 
 took down de big Bible, where all de Cass'ls' names en 
 de Wuthin'tons' uz writ, en I se'd 'er spread et op'n in 
 de middle, en fling 'erse'f down on 'er knees dere, en 
 lay 'er face on et. En dere she lay en shuk er minit, 
 but not long. She lif up one han' at las' en tu'n her 
 po' ole white face to, en cried out loud, wid de uth'r 
 han' on de page, ' Look, my God ! look ! All gone ! 
 all! all! all ! — all but dis little one ! Husban', f ath'r, 
 mudd'r, br'ers, sist'rs, sons — all ! — all but this little 
 lam' ! Have I cried out befo' ? Did I rel)el ergiust 
 yer! One at Marnassus, one at Malvun Hill, one at 
 Shiloh, one at Gettusburg — fever en bullet, shot en 
 
''OLE MISS" AXD '' SWEETHEAET." 121 
 
 shell, but nev'r er word, O my God ! One by one they 
 brought 'em home — husban', fath'r, en sons. Hit 
 uz thy will. These ole han's closed nev'r er eye. 
 Hit uz thy will. These ears 'ceived no las' messurges. 
 Hit uz thy will. I gave them inter thy keep'n', en fur 
 dey country, w'en de call cum, en you took 'em. I 
 gave 'em, I say, en no eye see'd de tears in mine. I 
 hioivhl hit all w^en dey marcWd erwmj. I wuz rendu ! 
 My baby boy ! — dat uz de hardes'. En dey tole me he 
 cried out ''Mudder !" w'en he fell. O my God ! my 
 God ! did you heah dat cry ! I have hyard et ev'y 
 day sence. En now dis chile, his chile, my only one ! 
 Leave 'er ter my ole age, 6 my God ! leave me dis one. 
 I been too proud en too col', but I am brok'n now. 
 Leave my baby ! ' 
 
 ^'De words b'nt inter me like fire. I crep' back 
 dere en set down. Nobody nev'r seen Ole Miss broke 
 down befo'. She uz iron all ov'r, en hit us jes' like 
 she sed. Dey brought ole marster home fus', en den 
 de young ones, tell de las' cum j en she stood by en 
 saw de graves fiU'd up, en nobody ev'r know'd et ef 
 she ev'r shed er tear. She wen' down on 'er knees, en 
 I hyard 'er hour atter hour cryin' out, ' Leave me dis 
 one ! leave me dis one ! ' En hit did look like she uz 
 er-prayin' ergin def, for de baby uz col' den, en er-get- 
 tin' stiff. Dere warn't no bref. She uz de'd es ever 
 I seen ennybody. 
 
 *' Well, sah, I uz dat worn out, w'at wid Ole Miss 
 
122 *'OLE MISS" AND ''SWEETHEART," 
 
 sayin' de same t'ing hotir atter hour in de night, en 
 my bein^ np so much, I sorter los' myse'f . Sum folks 
 sez I uz noddin', but don't you b'lieve er word er hit. 
 All uv er sudden hit look like I c'u'd see er shinin' 
 angel wid de baby in es arms, en Ole Miss er-holdin' 
 on ter es robes, en er-cryin' out, ^ Leave me dis one ! ' 
 En bime-by de angel cum back en lay de baby down 
 on de bed, en I uz erbout ter call Ole Miss, w'en 
 sudd'n I hyard the Bible slam, bang! en Ole Miss 
 shout, ^ She will live ! ' Den she cum er-stompin' tru 
 de do', wid 'er eyes er-blazin' en 'er face shinin' like 
 nobody ev'r seen hit befo', en bless yo' soul ! jes' den 
 I hyard a little weak voice dere er-sayin', ' Mammy — 
 mammy,' en I re'ch out my han'. De chile uz warm. 
 ' Yes, yes,' I shouted ; ^ hit 's His work ! hit 's His 
 work ! She done cum back f um de de'd.' En all de 
 wimmin, hyarin' de noise, cum runnin' in, cryin' out, 
 ' De baby es de'd ! de baby es de'd ! ' But Ole Miss, 
 er-stan'n' straight ergin, shouted back : ^Hit 's er lie; 
 she lives. Back f um de bed, en give 'er air. Back, 
 I say ! ' En dey took one look et Ole Miss, en 'mos' 
 bre'k deir necks gittin' out en down de steps. En 
 erbout dis time Miss Carrie cum down, er-holdin' on 
 de walls en do's, en er-steddpn' 'erse'f bes' she could. 
 She cum en stood dere in de do', white es er ghos', but 
 sayin' nuthin'. En Ole Miss wen' up en put 'er arms 
 roun' her, en tuk 'er ter de bed. ^Now, you c'n lay 
 down,' she sez, ^en sleep. De baby went up yonner. 
 
''OLE MISS" AND ''SWEETHEART." 123 
 
 but God look down on us, en sont er angel ter fetch 
 'er back.' En Miss Carrie laid down en tech ^er lips 
 ter de baby's. ' She 's warm, en she sleeps/ she whis- 
 pered. Den she sorter settled down, en fus' sing you 
 know we uz er-rubbin' ^er, tryin' ter fetch 'er back too, 
 'cause she'd dun fainted, en staid fainted 'mos' an 
 houi\" 
 
 There was silence a moment. The scenes so vividly 
 painted seemed to survive in my imagination. Sud- 
 denly the old woman broke in, with a low chuckle, 
 '* Mandy, you rec'lec' de nex' We'n'sday atter dat day ? " 
 
 '' Yes, marm. Ain' nobody w'at uz dere furgot et." 
 The old woman rose up fi'om the fire she had been 
 punching again. 
 
 " Well, sah," she continued, ^' sech doin's nev'r uz 
 seed on de plantation sence my day. Ole Miss sed 
 de Lord hed dun show'd 'er mussy, en ev'ybody mus' 
 have er hol'day. Choosdy de oberseer picked out 
 'leven fat hogs en fo' yearlines, en started de barbe- 
 cue 'long 'bout dark. En while dey uz er-cookin' de 
 vitu'ls, de nigg'rs uz er-dancin' en er-sing'n'. Look 
 ter me like I nev'r seen nigg'rs dance en sing like dat 
 befo'. Blind Billy uz dere wid es fiddle, en Mike 
 Slow wid de bones, en Tom Peeples wid es banjo. 
 Ole ]\Iiss let 'em have er littl' whisky, en hit uz 
 ' swing your cornders,' en ^ ban's all roun',' en *• sha- 
 shay cross,' tell mighty nigh day. I do b'lieve Unc' 
 Tom — Tom wuz de kerridge driver — uz de highes' 
 
124 ''OLE MISS" AND '' SWEETHEART » 
 
 stepper dere. Ain' nobody love dat baby better 'n 
 Unc' Tom. Ev'y mornin' 'mos' befo' de sun uz up 
 good, he 'd hetch up de horses, en wid me er-settV 
 back in dere like er fine lady en de baby er-sett'n' by 
 me, he 'd drive all ov'r everywhere, en w'en we git back 
 she 'd sleep, en Unc' Tom 'u'd tek 'er jes' es tend'rly es 
 ennybody, en car' 'er in de house w'ile I hoi' de bosses. 
 En when she uz so bad off, he 'd cum ev'y mornin' ter 
 de po'ch en look at we alls en shake es hed en go off. 
 Dat night er big load uz off Unc' Tom, en 'e uz er- 
 jumpin' roun' cuttin' de short dog good es de bes', en 
 makin^ b'lieve he uz goin' ter kiss sumbody. 
 
 " Sho' nuff de next day de crops wuz n't wurk'd. 
 De mules lay dey he'ds ov'r de fence en holler'd ter de 
 cows, like dey uz er-askin' what uz de matt'r, 'cause 
 dey Jinow'd 't warn't Sunday, en de cows hollered 
 back en say dey dun know. Erbout dinn'r-time, do', 
 ev'ything uz reddy down dere by de spring, en de 
 horn blow'd. Lord ! Lord ! how dem nigg'rs did eat 
 en eat ! Look ter me like sum er 'em would kill dey- 
 sevs. Hog meat, biscuits f um de kitch'n, buttermick, 
 chick'n, gingerbread, en corn beer uz es thick es cot- 
 ton in de patch, en hit were er hol'day sho' nuff. 
 
 " Well, sah, right den and dere I seed sum'n' w'at 
 'stonish me. Heah cum erlong er soger, en wark 
 right up to de house, en w'en Ole Miss cum out on de 
 po^ch hit would er make yer cry ter seen 'em. He uz 
 well-nigh barefooted, en his clo'es uz rags. He uz dat 
 
''OLE MISS" AND ''SWEETHEART." 125 
 
 white too dat you 'cl er said he uz er clayeat'r, en es 'e 
 stood dere 'e put es han^ on de rail ter steddy hisse'f. 
 He warn't no bad-look'n' man nnther, jes' 'bout yo' 
 size en buil', en de same forehead en curly hair, en er 
 way er hold'n' up es he'd make me t'ink 'bout 'im fus' 
 time I laid eyes on yer. 
 
 " ^ Madum/ he said, sof like, er-tak'n' off es hat, ' I 
 am er-makin' my way back ter New Orlyans, en am 
 mighty nigh starv'd fur de want uv sum'n' ter eat. T 
 mus' ask yer ter he'p me, en tek de chances er gittin' 
 paid w'en de war is ov'r, 'cause I aint got no munny 
 now.' Dat uz w'at 'e sed, en, bless yo' soul! 'e sed 
 hit like 'e uz fresh from er ballroom, instid uv de 
 hospit'l which 'e wuz, wid es arm gone, en so weak 'e 
 could n' stan' steddy. But you oughter seen Ole Miss. 
 She stretch out 'er arm en draws 'im up ter 'er like 'e 
 wuz 'er son, er-sayin', ' God dun sont you hyah, my 
 boy. I sees hit now. You is my gues', God-sent.' 
 Den she took 'im in de house, en made 'im set down 
 by de big table, en de f us' sing she did uz ter sen' me 
 down in de cellar ter git er bottle er wine. Dere 
 wuz n' but five lef, 'cause she done car'd de balunce 
 ter Macon fur de sick sogers long ergo. Dey say hit 
 uz made de year de stars fell, mighty nigh 'bout forty 
 years befo'. Well, sah, she po'd out sum fur dat boy, 
 en he did n' look like nuthin' but er boy, en 'e stood 
 up lean'n' 'g'inst de table en drink ter es country, 'e 
 ses, en es country's wimmiu, jes' like 'e wuz at er 
 
126 ''OLE MISS" AND " SWEETRJSABT." 
 
 party. But she made 'im set down, en fetcli'd ^im 
 sum dinner wid 'er own han's. En w'en she got dun 
 dere uz ernuff fur ennybody. Well, sah, de po' man 
 took sum barbecue on es fork en lif' et up two times 
 ter es mouf, en den put et back wid es han' er-shak'n', 
 en w'en Ole Miss ax 'im w'at de matter, he cov'r es 
 face wid es han' en shake all ov'r, er-sayin' 'e dat 
 hungry 'e could n' eat: dat 'e hed been tu'ned fum do' 
 ter do' tell he uz 'mos' reddy ter give et up. But 
 bime-by 'e get so 'e can eat, en den Ole Miss tek 'im 
 upstairs en give 'im er room en sum ov Marse Frank's 
 clo's, en er pa'r boots en er nice cap. She look at dat 
 cap er long time, en kiss hit, 'cause hit uz de cap 'e 
 had on w'en he uz kilt. But she put et on de soger's 
 he'd herse'f , en give 'im sum munny too, en sont down 
 ter de pasture en ketch Marse Frank's hoss, which 
 wuz Beauregard, en put Marse Frank's saddle on em 
 too, 'cause de gem man say 'e 'bliged ter go on. Wen 
 ^e cum down, you would n't er know'd 'im. He wuz 
 like er new man, but mighty weak. When he kiss 
 Ole Miss han' he lef es tears dere. But Ole Miss, wid 
 'er han' on es shoulder, ses, ' In God's name I bid you 
 farewell.' En 'e sed ef de pra'rs uv er wife en mud- 
 d'r en hisself, en de love uv er baby boy, uz good, 
 she 'd git 'er pay. But Ole Miss dun up en say de 
 Lord dun settl' wid 'er already, en I know'd w'at she 
 wuz er-tarkin' erbout. Den 'e ride off, en out yonner 
 he tu'n en take off es cap fur de las' time. He wuz 
 
''OLE MISS" AND ''SWEETHEARTS 127 
 
 ter wi'ite back ef 'e got dere safe, but nobody ain' 
 byard fum 'im, en ev'ybody sed 'e mus' er died erlong 
 de way. But he did n'." 
 
 ^^ And what became of the family ? '' 
 
 "Well, sah, de war cumm'd down hyah, en dey 
 refugeed erway off yander ter fus' one place en den 
 ernuther. En de house got bu'nt, en all de stock uz 
 run off. Den Ole Miss died sumw'ere, en uz sont 
 back hyah, en Miss Carrie went back ter 'er folks, dey 
 say ; en all uv 'em uz dun got so po' dey could n' do 
 nuth'n' fer we all. One day Miss Carrie sont me er 
 letter ter say I mus' n' let Ole Miss' grave get los', en 
 I ain't. Fus' I sot up a board out dere on de bury'n'- 
 groun' ; en den I scrape er little munny fum de tuck- 
 ies en gyard'n en er cotton patch, en had er man ter 
 put down dat slab.'^ 
 
 " It must have taken considerable." 
 
 " Hit did ] but not so much es ef I had n't er had de 
 stone already." She shifted herself uneasily in her 
 chair, and looked down as she explained. "You see, 
 Ole Cun'l Bill Cass'l uz buried up yonner too, wid er 
 fine slab ov'r him, en 'e uz de meanes' white man you 
 ever seed w'en 'e uz livin', so I thought Ole Miss 
 bett'r have dat stone en let 'im do 'thout fer er while ; 
 en we jes' tu'ned hit ov'r en did de cuttin' en polishin' 
 on tuth'r side. But hit ain' fixed jes' right. None uv 
 us could n' 'call de time w'en she uz born'd 'zactly, or 
 w'en she died, en Miss Carrie dun gone off ergin ter 
 
128 ''OLE MISS" AND ''SWEETHEART." 
 
 er new place. I know'd she uz born^d uv er Sunday, 
 en died uv er Sunday, but hit 's er long time ergo. 
 So I jes' tole 'em ter put ' Ole Miss' on et. En I ses 
 ter myse'f, ef Miss Carrie ev'r got back hyah, es she 
 will ef she live, en we all dun gone, 't ain't goin' ter be 
 no troubl' ter find de place. But she nev'r cum back. 
 She died putty soon atter dat ov'r yonner at er unci' 
 "Wuthin'ton, in Bald'in County. But de baby cum, 
 bless yo' soul ! en he cum too, dat baby boy fum er- 
 way out yonner in New Orlyans. It 's cureyus how 
 pra'rs wuk out. I uz er-sett'n' hyah jes' dis way 'bout 
 er ye'r ergo, w'en all er sudd'n er fine young gemman 
 en er young lady dash up on horseback en stop right 
 dere w'ere you es er-sett'n'. De minit I look in dere 
 faces I hyard sum'in' er-callin' ter me erway back 
 yonner, en ev'rything sorter swim, en w'en she up en 
 ses, ^ Aunty, kin you tell me w'ere de Cass'l place es ? ' 
 I cried out, ' Hyar hit es, en bless God hyar 's er 
 Cass'l dun cum back ! Sweetheart ! Sweetheart ! ' I 
 sed, wid de tears er-runnin', ^ Sweetheart ! ' 
 
 " ^ Yes,' she sed, en den I gather'd 'er roun' de 
 knees. De tears uz er-stan'in' en 'er eyes too. ^ This 
 mus' be mammy,' she 'lowed, ' that po' mamma used 
 ter talk so much erbout.' En she jumped down dere 
 en I had 'er in dese ole arms wunst mo'. Den she laf 
 er littl' en say, p'intin' ter de gemman, ^ Now does yer 
 know Mm f ' I tuk one look at 'im en hit seem ter 
 me like 'e dun cum out er de ole times too. All uv er 
 
"OLE MISS" AND ''SWEETHEART." 129 
 
 sndd'n 'e up eu say^ '■ Does you 'member de po' soger 
 w'at rode ole Beauregard away ? ' '• Yes, sah/ ses I, 
 ' jes' like hit uz yestiddy. De las' sing 'e said wuz, 
 ^^ Ef de pra'rs uv er wife en mudd'r en hisse'f, en de 
 love uv er baby boy, uz good, she 'd git paid." ' Wid 
 dat [de young gemman lif off his hat en say, ' De 
 pra'rs uv er fath'r en mudd'r, en de love uv de baby 
 boy, has been blessed ] speshully de love uv de baby 
 boy.' 
 
 '^ Dey tole me then dat Sweetheart had been off ter 
 school all 'er life mos', en de fus' time she went up 
 yonner ter de Ferginny Springs dey 'd met, en dat uz 
 ernuff. Ennybody could er seed dey uz cut out fer 
 one ernuther. Dey es er-cumm'n' back sum day ter 
 buir up de ole home ergin, but hit all won't nev'r 
 b'long ter de Cass'ls ergin." The old woman laughed 
 softly. "No, sah. ^ Mammy' owns er hundred en 
 fifty uv de bes' Ian' hyah, en hit 's bin hers ev'r since 
 de day de babies cum back." 
 
 So ran the way-side tale. When I bade the homely 
 souls good-bye, and strode out to the railroad, I 
 passed once more the old burial-ground, now bound 
 with a new interest. The tall Lombardies, towering 
 fifty feet above me, their limbs growing straight up, 
 stood as motionless in the evening calm as monu- 
 ments. There is not in nature a more placid tree. It 
 never tosses its arms in the breeze, nor is lashed by 
 
130 '' OLE MISS" AND ''SWEETHEART." 
 
 the storm. The oak is often worked into rage, but 
 the Lombardy bends its far-away crest in melancholy 
 acquiescence to a superior power, and its leaves but 
 twinkle peacefully. So stood they there in their still 
 and solemn watch. And under them nestled the 
 grave with its simple legend, "Old Miss." 
 
SISTER TODHUNTER'S HEART. 
 
 I. 
 
 ■^^HERE was an unusual excitement 
 in Sweetwater. The new preacher, 
 a young man of fine parts, accom- 
 panied by his wife, had arrived a 
 few days before, delivered a most 
 effective sermon, and had been called upon with the 
 promptness common to country communities where 
 isolation renders local curiosity unbearable after 
 twenty-four hours. The lady of the parsonage, 
 whose husband was but lately a theological student 
 and now engaged for the first time upon regular pas- 
 toral labors, came from the city, and dressed in a 
 manner that was bound to win her the admiration or 
 the hatred of half the village. Already that grand, 
 interchangeable jury common to all communities was 
 sitting upon her case. The term is used in a figura- 
 tive sense, for the inquest was conducted from yard 
 to yard, window to window, and even across the 
 one street along which Sweetwater was congregated. 
 
 131 
 
132 SISTER TODHUNTER'S HEART. 
 
 Yf herever two or three were gathered together and 
 two of the three happened to be of the cradle-rocking 
 order of society, Parson Riley's wife was the theme. 
 
 The climax was reached in the case when Parson 
 Riley's wife sent out modest little notes inviting 
 about twenty matrons to take tea with her the next 
 day. Then the jury let the main question pass while 
 it resolved itself into committees of one, each of 
 which began with almost frantic anxiety to look into 
 the question of dress. Adaptation became the order 
 of the day, for no time remained for new garments, 
 even if Sweetwater could have furnished them. 
 Twenty ladies drew out from their hiding-places 
 twenty bonnets of varied shapes, ages, and designs ; 
 twenty ladies shook to the breeze the camphored folds 
 of twenty bombazines, alpacas, and venerable silks; 
 and twenty pairs of hands went to work with needles, 
 thread, hot irons, stain-eradicators, and all the house- 
 hold help that could be mustered, to turn the water 
 of ancient respectability into the wine of modern 
 style as outlined in stray magazines and described by 
 the occasional town visitor. 
 
 So it was, then, that when Sweetwater, as very 
 properly represented by its leading ladies, assembled 
 in Parson Riley's modest little parlor and gazed upon 
 itself in all its glory, a somewhat satisfied air settled 
 over it. Poor, faded little Mrs. Brown, in her dingy 
 alpaca, which everybody knew she bought nine years 
 
,'e Sec c c c^ :• f 'c ' 
 
 The terms were not liberal for Colonel Todhunter." 
 (Page 154.) 
 
SISTEB TODRUNTEB'S HEART. 133 
 
 before with money awarded her at the county f ah' for 
 preserves and pickles, and had turned and re-turned 
 until it was equally worn all over, smiled placidly 
 upon Mrs. Bailey's watered silk that she wore when 
 she was a bride, and upon the bombazine gown that 
 Mrs. Buckner inherited from her mother, and felt 
 thoroughly comfortable. And Mrs. Buckner's little 
 straw bonnet, that had been in fashion twice in the 
 fifteen years of its service, rested easy upon her own 
 artificial knot of hair when she beheld Mrs. Culpep- 
 per^s Leghorn flare-front head-gear, and noted the 
 cork-screw iron-gray curls pinned around the severe 
 brow of Colonel Ledbetter^s wife just as they had 
 been on state occasions for twenty years. 
 
 This feeling of comfort was greatly strengthened 
 by the fact that Parson Riley's wife wore a plain 
 dark close-fitting gown of some flexible material with- 
 out ornamentation, and that her hair was brushed 
 back without any attempt at the fashionable arrange- 
 ments they feared would crush them. Then the little 
 lady moved about among them with her sweetest 
 smiles, and the nicest tea, and a little notice for each 
 of her guests. She had observed what an " elegant 
 young woman " was Mrs. Buckner's Samanthy, just 
 back from Wesleyan College in Macon; and Mrs. 
 Brown's son Tom was " handsome enough to be gov- 
 ernor." As for Mrs. Culpepper's baby, why, it was 
 " just too lovely for anything." She captured a very 
 
134 SISTER TODHUNTEB'S HEART. 
 
 large-hearted woman entirely when she whispered to 
 Mrs. Bailey that her husband was the finest-looking 
 man she had seen in Sweetwater, — " excepting my 
 Phil, yon know," she added. And this loyalty only 
 sank the compliment deeper. Then she hurried off 
 for a pencil, and begged Mrs. Colonel Ledbetter to 
 give her her recipe for making the scuppernong wine 
 she had heard so much praised, and she laid her book 
 in the dear old lady's lap and wrote it as dictated. In 
 an hour Parson Riley's wife was by unanimous con- 
 sent established at the head of Sweetwater, and could 
 afford to take the company in to see her lace curtains, 
 baby and baby dresses, and all the little bric-a-brac 
 that had been showered upon her as a bride, — with- 
 out awakening a single jealous feeling. 
 
 But a storm was brewing, and its first mutterings 
 were heard when Mrs. Culpepper thoughtlessly men- 
 tioned " Sister Todhunter." 
 
 " Sister Todhunter ? " said Parson Riley's wife, 
 looking from one to the other, a puzzled expression 
 shadowing her pretty face ; ^^ have I met Sister Tod- 
 hunter? Dear me, can I have made a mistake after 
 all ? " She had tried so hard to please everybody, and 
 here was trouble at the first move. 
 
 "No, my dear," said Mrs. Culpepper promptly ; "it 
 was I who made the mistake." But poor Mrs. Riley 
 noted the ominous look upon the faces of several and 
 the glances they exchanged. 
 
SISTER TODRUNTEB'S HEART. 135 
 
 " I am sure," she said earnestly, " I would have 
 been glad to have had Sister Todhunter if I had 
 known in time. Does she live in the village ? " 
 
 '^ No, dear," said Mrs. Colonel Ledbetter ; " she is 
 a disagreeable old thing who lives out on her farm 
 about a mile from here. You have n't lost anything 
 by not knowing her." Mrs. Ledbetter was a power 
 in the land, and her iron-gray curls shook in a dan- 
 gerous and threatening manner as she declared her- 
 self. " She is sometimes pleasant, to be sure, but if 
 it was n't for her husband, poor man, who married 
 her out of pity, although she was only a ^cracker' 
 and he a man of education and standing, she would 
 n't be noticed." 
 
 " I think," said poor faded little Mrs. Brown meekly, 
 ^' that Sister Todhunter has a good heart, and I 'm 
 sure she always treated me kindly." 
 
 ^' And who would n't ? " interposed Mrs. Culpepper, 
 laughing. '^ You see some good in everybody, Sallie, 
 and everybody sees some in you. But as for Sister 
 Todhunter, she is better at long range." 
 
 Presently there was a movement among the ladies, 
 and soon Parson Riley's wife, the recipient of twenty 
 kisses and as many warm handshakes, was left alone 
 mth her empty cups and the memory of Sister Tod- 
 hunter. 
 
II. 
 
 "When Parson Riley heard the description of his 
 wife's tea-party from her own lips, told with many a 
 smile and an occasional sigh, his first resolution was 
 to call upon Colonel Todhunter and his wife. So it 
 was that early next morning he saddled his patient 
 mare and ambled out to the Todhnnter farm. 
 
 As Parson Riley approached the little cottage, he 
 saw sitting on the steps a man with his chin in his 
 hands. The first thing that impressed him was the 
 air of extreme dejection abont the individual, an air 
 that became more marked after he had dismounted 
 and advanced toward the house. Rousing himself 
 from his reveries, the individual rose slowly and fixed 
 a pair of tired, watery blue eyes upon the parson. 
 The clothes he wore were broadcloth, but they were 
 faded now, and stained down the front with tobacco 
 juice ; and they shone with a polish evidently acquired, 
 like good manners, through long wear. 
 
 ^^This is Colonel Todhunter, I believe," said the 
 visitor, holding out his hand. " I am the Rev. Mr. 
 Riley.'' The gentleman in the polished suit held the 
 proffered hand as he replied, in a singularly low and 
 sweet voice : 
 
 136 
 
SISTER TODHVNTER'S HEART. 137 
 
 " You 're the new parson, I reckon. You will have 
 to speak louder j I am a little deef ." 
 
 ^^ Yes," said the parson, elevating his voice. " How 
 is your family ? " 
 
 '^What did you say?" inquired the low, musical 
 voice, while the blue eyes brightened a little. 
 
 " How is your family ? " 
 
 " Oh, very well, I believe. Come in and set down." 
 He led the way slowly, with a slight limp, toward the 
 little porch. As they ascended the steps Parson Riley 
 caught sight of the figure of an enormous woman in 
 a calico dress and a white apron, that loomed up in 
 the doorway. She carried in her hand a broom ; and 
 a broad, square, almost fierce face with small black 
 eyes was turned upon him. 
 
 " 'Mandy," said the colonel gently, " this is the new 
 parson." " The new parson " stepped forward quickly 
 and extended his hand. 
 
 '' My dear madam, I am glad to meet you," he said, 
 a smile kindling on his handsome face. She looked 
 at him suspiciously, gave him her left hand, and 
 said: 
 
 "Howdye!" 
 
 " I hope you are well, madam ? " 
 
 ^' Toler'ble," she replied. And then she turned her 
 back and moved off with an elephantine amble. 
 
 " So this is Sister Todhunter," thought Parson 
 Riley. " Well, I shall have trouble here." 
 
138 SISTER TOBHUNTEB'S HEAMT. 
 
 The men sat down, and the conversation began. 
 Colonel Todhnnter proved to be courtly, almost 
 womanly, in bis manners, but bis few opinions were 
 ventured with a diffidence most painful,, and the par- 
 son was glad when the time came to say good-day. 
 He was about to mount bis mare again when tbe 
 colonel, wbo bad followed bim out, touched bis 
 arm. 
 
 " I want to speak to you on a private matter,^' be 
 said softly. *^ Suppose we walk a little.'^ So arm 
 and arm they moved off. "I want to speak about 
 Mrs. Todhunter," said the gentle voice again. '^ To 
 tell you the truth. Parson, I am leading a life here 
 that is almost unbearable, and I think you can help 
 me. 
 
 ^'Mrs. Todhunter is a violent woman, Parson, — I 
 use the term advisedly 5 she is a violent woman, and 
 unless I can bring about a marked change in her 
 character, I do not know what I shall do. She uses 
 language toward me that is altogether unchristian- 
 like and unbecoming. And worse ) when she gets 
 one of her speUs upon her, she assaults me with 
 anything nearest at hand. Only this morning I 
 received several blows from her broom that have 
 nearly lamed me. Parson," — they had reached the 
 friendly shelter of the barn by this time, and the 
 colonel straightened up a little, while his eyes act- 
 ually glittered, — " I am tired of this dog^s life, and I 
 
SISTEE TODHUNTEB'S HEART. 139 
 
 want your assistance. I think if Mrs. Todliunter is 
 formally reported to the church, and humiliated, it 
 will bring about a change.'' Parson Riley's face 
 showed his surprise, and the colonel added at once, 
 ^'I have had this in mind a long time, and once I 
 brought the matter to the mind of Parson Thompson, 
 who preceded you, — a worthy man, but timid. He 
 would not move in the matter. Now, will you?" 
 Parson Riley was young and combative. 
 
 " I will," he said promptly. 
 
 " What ? " The deaf man placed his hand to his 
 ear. 
 
 '^ I will," shouted the parson. " Sister Todhunter 
 shall be disciplined." The colonel looked pleased. 
 
 '' I was a church-member myself once," he said 
 softly, ^^but this eternal quarrel drove me out. I 
 could not break bread feeling as I do toward Mrs. 
 Todhunter." His chin trembled. He filled his cheeks 
 with wind and blew it out under the pressure of his 
 emotion. ^'You cannot imagine to what an extent 
 this persecution has gone. Why, sir, there have 
 been times when I considered my life in danger. I 
 am not a dissipated man," he continued, resting his 
 blue-veined hand upon the parson's shoulder and 
 turning the blue eyes earnestly upon him, "but of 
 course I take a julep now and then, — you under- 
 stand; habits of an old-time Georgia gentleman, — 
 and sometimes I have taken too much. I admit that 
 
140 SISTER TODRUNTEB'S HEART. 
 
 Mrs. Todhunter has had some provocation in that 
 direction, but not enough, Parson, to justify her in 
 regarding me as a dog." His breast heaved con- 
 vulsively. 
 
 ^' A woman/' said the young man firmly, touched 
 by the pathos and emotion of his dignified companion, 
 "has no right to strike her husband except in the 
 defense of her life." 
 
 " Hey ! " Colonel Todhunter cupped his left ear 
 deftly with the transparent hand. 
 
 " I say a woman has no right to strike her hus- 
 band '' 
 
 "Why, bless your soul, parson, that 's a small 
 matter, a very small matter indeed!" A sad smile 
 flitted across the lips of the speaker. "A very small 
 matter." He fixed his eyes upon his companion 
 with a sudden resolution. "Why, do you know, 
 Mrs. Todhunter came near smothering me, only last 
 week?" 
 
 "Smothering?" 
 
 "Hey?" 
 
 " Came near smothering you?'' 
 
 " Yes, sir. To tell the truth. Parson, I was a little 
 mixed — had taken a little too much, you understand. 
 Had been camping out a week down at Bloomley's 
 mill with Colonel Ledbetter and others, fishing, and 
 drank a little too much. Unfortunat'ly I came home 
 a little under the influence of stimulants, and found 
 
^4 ,,, 
 
 s^f^ 
 
 That 's a small matter. 
 
SISTEB TODRUNTEE'S HEART. 141 
 
 Mrs. Todhunter on fire about the cotton being in the 
 grass. As I was preparing to lie down, being also 
 ill, Mrs. Todhunter, with her superior strength and 
 weight, forced me between the mattresses and sat 
 down on me. And there she sat, Parson, three hun- 
 dred pounds, and it a July day, and knitted all the 
 afternoon. * I ^11 sweat that whisky out er you,^ she 
 says J and she did. The perspiration that exuded 
 from my pores soaked through the mattress and 
 dripped on the floor. I do not know how I lived 
 through it.'^ He drew out his handkerchief and wiped 
 his forehead, to which the memory of his sufferings 
 had actually brought the moisture. " When wiU you 
 move in the matter ? " he asked more cheerfully. 
 
 ^' At once." 
 
 '^Hey?" 
 
 ^' At once. I '11 have her up next Sunday " 
 
 Parson Riley paused. The vast presence of Sister 
 Todhunter had passed around the corner of the barn. 
 There was a painful silence of about two seconds, and 
 then her voice arose. 
 
 " So," she said loudly, with her eye on the colonel, 
 who started as though shot, ^' so ! This is your game, 
 is it ? tellin' lies on your wife to every stranger that 
 comes along. I'll teach you better manners, if I 
 have to break every bone in yer soft, cowardly body." 
 She made a rush at her offending lord, which he 
 easily and promptly avoided by stepping briskly 
 
142 SISTER TODHUNTEB'S HEART. 
 
 away, leaving his late companion to hold the field as 
 best he might. 
 
 ^^ Madam," said Parson Riley, raising his hand as if 
 about to ask a benediction, — it was his most impress- 
 ive attitude, — ^'I beseech you to remember that this 
 gentleman is your husband and that you are a mem- 
 ber of my church " 
 
 ^^What have you got to do with hit, you little 
 chick'n-eatin' thing you?" She had turned upon 
 him with war in her eye and war in her whole make- 
 up generally. " A pretty sort er parson you air, ain't 
 yer, hangin' roun' decent women's houses list'nin' ter 
 lies an' slanders. Oh, I know what he wants; he 
 wants ter git me up 'fore Moun' Zion Church. He 
 tried hit on ole Thompson, but he daresn't move er 
 peg. I tole him, an' I tell you, ef they have me up 
 'fore Moun' Zion, hit '11 be er bad day fur Moun' Zion." 
 She shook her clinched fist at him. 
 
 Parson Riley was half Irish, a little Welsh, and the 
 rest American. Besides, he was young and inexpe- 
 rienced. 
 
 ^' Your case will be up next Sunday morning. You 
 can come or not, as you please." He said this with a 
 somewhat unclerical but very natural emphasis, and, 
 turning on his heels, left the spot. The last words 
 he heard were, " I ain't 'feard o' you ner all the Moun' 
 Zions in the world." 
 
 As Parson Riley mounted his mare, Colonel Tod- 
 
SISTER TODRUNTER'S HEART. 143 
 
 hunter crawled through the hedge a few yards off, 
 looked cautiously around, secured his pipe from the 
 porch, and went back silently the way he came. A 
 smile forced itseK upon the lips of the young preacher, 
 and a little farther down the road he laughed out- 
 riffht. 
 
in. 
 
 Sunday morning brought an enormous crowd to 
 Mount Zion Cliurchj as the village edifice was called. 
 This was natural, as on that day the Presiding Elder 
 was to deliver a sermon, and a visit from the Presid- 
 ing Elder of the district always drew a crowd. But 
 the fact noised about throughout the land, that Sister 
 Todhunter had been summoned and was to be tried, 
 also operated powerfully as an assembling factor, and 
 many people who had long neglected their church 
 duties put in an appearance. Farmers for miles 
 around came bringing their wives and daughters in 
 their wagons. Young men in buggies with their 
 sweethearts were numerous, and the grove about the 
 church was full of vehicles and " tied-out stock" when 
 service time arrived. 
 
 About 10 o'clock a sudden movement around the 
 doorway indicated that preaching was about to begin, 
 and the congregation filed slowly within, the men to 
 the left, the women to the right. Parson Riley, sit- 
 ting in the pulpit with the portly form of Elder 
 Hamlin beside him, watched with an abiding interest 
 the faces of the comers. When the last was in and 
 settled, he heaved a deep sigh of relief, — Sister Tod- 
 
SISTER TODHUNTER'S HEART. I45 
 
 hunter was not present ; she was going to remain at 
 home and let the trial go by default. 
 
 He did not know Sister Todhunter ! 
 
 Elder Hamlin at last arose, his red countenance 
 glowing like a beacon above the sea of faces, and in a 
 voice like a trumpet's opened the meeting with prayer. 
 He asked Divine blessing upon Mount Zion, Sweet- 
 water, and the remainder of the world, invoking a 
 helping hand for ''the b-r-r-r-a-v-e young soldier of 
 the cross'' who had '' come among these people to bat- 
 tle for the right," and upon " the young woman, just 
 buddin' into matoority," who had ''come to share his 
 trials and minister with him." His prayer concluded 
 with an appeal in behalf of the erring sister whose 
 wrong-doings they were about to consider. 
 
 " May she be led to see the error of her way/' he 
 said, "an' turn her feet into the strait an' narrow 
 path." And he thanked the Lord for the assurance 
 given in those lines which declare that 
 
 " while the lamp holds out to bum 
 The viles' sinner may return." 
 
 Elder Hamlin ceased, and amid the shuffling of feet 
 that followed the deep " Amen " which rolled from the 
 prompt " Amen corner " back into the dilatory recess 
 beyond the last post, the congregation resumed their 
 seats. Then Parson Riley stepped forward, and in 
 
146 SISTER TODRUNTEB'S HEART. 
 
 the clear debating-society tones his wife loved so well, 
 read the opening hymn : 
 
 *' From Greenland's icy mountains, 
 From India's coral strand." 
 
 Elder Bnckner stood up in advance of the congre- 
 gation and raised the tune in a strong baritone that 
 at once sprang out boldly and challenged the whole 
 assembly. He was instantly pursued and overtaken 
 by Mrs. Culpepper's soprano; and Mrs. Buckner's 
 sweet contralto soon found an entering place. After 
 her came the deep bumble-bee bass of Colonel Led- 
 better, who adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses as he 
 came in. This was the customary opening. No one 
 in Sweetwater would have dreamed of invading the 
 melody with any sort of a voice until Elder Buckner, 
 Mrs. Culpepper, Mrs. Buckner, and Colonel Ledbet- 
 ter had obtained a fair start. Any one so imprudent 
 would have drawn the attention of the whole congre- 
 gation upon himself. But, the quartette well under 
 way, everybody was at liberty to rush in ; and so on 
 this occasion, soon, borne aloft by the united voices 
 of the entire congregation, the grand old melody 
 sailed out and swept far away down the pine aisles 
 into the peaceful Sabbath heart of the woodlands. 
 
 The last tone died away — as usual it was the deep 
 hum of Colonel Ledbetter's bass, which refused to be 
 quieted for a while. Then the congregation sank 
 
SISTEB TODHUNTEE'S HEART. 147 
 
 into their seats, and Elder Hamlin stood np and de- 
 livered a powerful sermon upon the wife and her true 
 position. 
 
 Then came the long-looked-for moment. 
 
 Parson Riley had descended from the pulpit to 
 state the business of the hour, which every one 
 awaited with feverish impatience, when a form filled 
 the doorway, and Sister Todhunter, in holiday attire 
 of red silk, black lace, and a great flower-ladened 
 flare-front bonnet, stood before him. As by instinct 
 everybody knew she was there, and every head save 
 one was turned toward her. She paused long enough 
 to survey the crowd contemptuously, then, with a 
 great waddle, she marched up the aisle, took a chair 
 out from under little Major Brown almost before he 
 could vacate it, placed its back against the pulpit, 
 and sat down. 
 
 " Now," she said, looking at Parson Riley, while 
 she adjusted the folds of her dress, '^ go on with yer 
 lies J I'm ready." Parson Riley turned pale, and 
 then red. Some of the thoughtless young people 
 snickered, and there was a general stir of expecta- 
 tion. Colonel Ledbetter, without unbending a par- 
 ticle of his enormous and ever-blooming dignity, 
 looked at Major Brown and winked with both eyes. 
 Brown put his hand over his mouth and coughed 
 violently. But the parson soon rallied, and, turning 
 to the congregation, said firmly : 
 
148 SISTEB TODHUNTEE'S EEABT. 
 
 ^' Brothers and sisters, for such you are in the holy 
 union of the church, and I trust soon to say in the 
 affection born of joint and self-sacrificing labors, I 
 have a painful duty to perform this morning, one 
 that I fain -would avoid, but " 
 
 '^ Oh, shucks, say what yer got ter say and don't 
 palaver so much." This, of course, came from Sis- 
 ter Todhunter. He paused a second for the new 
 sensation to subside, and without looking at her he 
 continued : 
 
 " It is a duty, and of such there can be no avoid- 
 ance without guilt." 
 
 ^' Very pretty. Be'n all the week er-learnin' hit ? " 
 
 " I am called upon to present to you this morning 
 an erring sister,'' he continued, linking his hands 
 together and bowing them before him palms down- 
 ward while he rocked back upon his heels and 
 brought his toes to the ground again, ''who, not 
 satisfied with violating at home the proprieties of 
 the domestic circle and the commands and precepts 
 of the Scriptures, has come into the house of the 
 Lord defiant and rebellious, ^vith sneers upon her lips 
 and contempt for His minister and His people in her 
 heart. The evidence of this latter is before you -, of 
 the former, her husband, a gentleman whom you all 
 know, will speak." 
 
 Colonel Todhunter was sitting on the front seat at 
 the elbow of Parson Riley^ his chin upon his shirt- 
 
SISTER TODRUNTEB'S HEART. 149 
 
 front, and deep dejection written in every line of his 
 face. There was also a pallor there. He was proba- 
 bly the only person in the church who had not seen 
 or heard his wife enter. The parson was forced to 
 rouse him with a touch. 
 
 " Get up, Colonel,'^ he said, " and state your case." 
 " Hey 1 " The parson motioned to a spot in front 
 and then to the sea of expectant faces turned toward 
 him. He understood, and sidled along with his 
 white face to the crowd, his blue eyes searching 
 every bench, until he reached the place indicated ; 
 then he folded his poor white hands together and 
 drew a long breath of relief : Sister Todhunter 
 was not in sight. He opened his mouth to speak, 
 when an event occurred that threw the crowd pres- 
 ent into the most intense excitement. In moving 
 to the front Colonel Todhunter came within four 
 or five feet of his wife, to whom his back was half 
 turned. He had just satisfied himself that he was 
 secure, and had said ^^I," when Sister Todhunter 
 leaned forward, extended her crooked handled um- 
 brella its full length, deftly hooked it in the collar of 
 her husband's coat, and with one jerk landed him 
 backward and head-first into her lap. So sudden 
 was the act, so utterly unexpected, that everybody 
 for an instant paused and gazed in open-mouthed 
 astonishment. Then those in the rear tumbled over 
 each other for better positions, and big Elder Hamlin 
 
150 SISTEB TODHUNTEB'S HEART. 
 
 rushed to the colonePs assistance. The angry woman 
 met the rescuer with such energy that his alarmed 
 neighbors were compelled to lead him outside and 
 pour water on his head. 
 
 In the mean time Major Brown, Colonel Ledbetter, 
 Elder Buckner, Mr. Culpepper, and others were strug- 
 gling to release Colonel Todhunter, whose convulsive 
 play of legs and awful expression of face indicated 
 approaching dissolution. The united strength of six 
 men was suf6.cient at last to effect this, and the 
 colonel, all breathless, arose. 
 
 " Are you hurt much. Colonel ? " shouted good Mrs. 
 Buckner, who had crowded to the front. With one 
 hand on his head and the other struggling for his hand- 
 kerchief, which was in the wrong coat-tail pocket, and 
 with tears rolling down his cheeks, he replied softly : 
 
 ^' I had only a little hair left, gray hair, madam j 
 I fear she has pulled that out, too." 
 
 The hubbub was indescribable, and everybody was 
 crowding to the front. Parson Riley waved them 
 back. 
 
 " Sit down," he shouted. ^^ We can't do anything 
 so long as you stand up ! " All dropped back into 
 their seats, except about a dozen of the most trust- 
 worthy and dignified churchmen around the refrac- 
 tory sister, who with a strong grip on the edge of her 
 chair was holding her position, while she talked to the 
 men nearest her. 
 
SISTEB TODHUNTEB'S HEABT. 151 
 
 " You think yerself mighty smart, don't yer ? " she 
 said, catching Parson Riley's eye. " An' yer wife — 
 my ! ain't she stuck up, with her lace curtains an' tea- 
 parties ! Too proud ter invite 7ne, but not too proud 
 ter invite old Jane Gramby, whose boy stole a mule." 
 There was a shriek in the audience, and Mr. Gramby, 
 standing near, hurried to his wife. 
 
 ^^ An' there 's Tom Culpepper. He h er pretty nice 
 one to be settin' hisse'f up fur er church-cleaner. I 
 saw him pass my house so drunk las' week he did n't 
 know if he was goin' home er comin' back." Again 
 the thoughtless giggled. Tom Culpepper's habits 
 were certainly unfortunate. 
 
 " An' there 's Brother Spikes. He 's er good han' 
 ter weed out er church, ain't he ? An' his cotton in 
 the grass so bad that yer can't see hit from the road." 
 Again a subdued applause from the great audience. 
 
 " This is simply outrageous," said Brother Spikes to 
 Mr. John Edgerly hotly ; ^^ that woman ought to be 
 ducked." 
 
 " Ought she, indeed ! " said Sister Todhunter, 
 catching the remark. '' Then you better git John 
 Edgerly ter help you. His gra'ma was ducked for 
 tattlin', en I reckon he '11 know how ter go about hit." 
 This terrible dig drew all eyes upon Edgerly, and he 
 turned as red as a turkey-comb. 
 
 " Madam," said Colonel Ledbetter, advancing to a 
 prominent position in all the dignity and confidence 
 
152 SISTER TODRUNTEB'S HEART. 
 
 of his high standing in Sweetwater, " I trust you will 
 let your old friend advise you." 
 
 " When did you come to be my old friend ? " she 
 replied with terrible sarcasm. ^'Was hit when yer 
 charged me twelve per cent, for the loan of er hundred 
 dollars, or was hit when you made me pay for er 
 hundred bushels of corn because my mule et five ? " 
 Taking his hat and cane, the colonel walked outside 
 and sat down on a stump. 
 
 ^' Gentlemen," said Parson Riley suddenly, seeing 
 his force rapidly falling away, ^^ the only thing to do 
 is to carry her out and send her home. If you will 
 all take hold we can carry her out quickly." The men 
 were ready for any escape from the merciless lashing 
 the woman was giving them. With a rush they seized 
 her, chair and all, she fighting desperately, and bore 
 her outside. After a brief rest, during which the as- 
 saulting party repaired damages, they lifted her again 
 and made for the wagon. The rail fence furnished 
 her a hold when they tried to lift her over, and it be- 
 came necessary to take it down. Then another fierce 
 struggle ensued at the wagon. Finding herself over- 
 matched. Sister Todhunter gave vent to a shriU 
 scream that brought Colonel Todhunter to her side in 
 repentance and alarm. He attempted to soothe her, 
 but she was no sooner lifted into the wagon than she 
 kicked the dash-board off and seized him by the ear. 
 It took the efforts of the crowd again to release him. 
 
''Elder Hamlin overboard." 
 
SISTEB TODRUNTER'S MEABT. I53 
 
 Elder Hamlin, who had recovered his wind and ral- 
 lied, here climbed into the wagon with the others to 
 help hold her, while the rest hitched up her mules. 
 Then, led by Billy, her ten-year-old son, who had 
 watched the proceedings in sullen silence, the strange 
 load moved off, a delegation accompanying it to keep 
 things straight. As they crossed the creek, Sister 
 Todhunter by a sudden movement managed to throw 
 Elder Hamlin overboard. He stood up in the water 
 and swore a great round oath that horrified every- 
 body. But Sister Todhunter laughed hysterically. 
 
 " Put him out, put him out er Moun^ Zion too ! 
 Don't yer hear him er cussin' back there'?" Elder 
 Hamlin had retired to the bank, and was denouncing 
 the whole race of obstreperous women, but not swear- 
 ing. His one oath was confessed in open meeting 
 afterward, and willingly forgiven. 
 
 This, however, was Sister Todhunter^s last effort. 
 She was seized with a collapse on reaching home, and 
 begged to be placed on the grass. There sitting, she 
 declared that death was near, and begged them to 
 leave her. Her husband came up and ministered to 
 her, and she was heard to ask Billy to lead her to the 
 well, as she wanted to jump in and end her misery ; 
 and Billy told her he wished she would. Then the 
 committee returned. It transpired afterward that Sis- 
 ter Todhunter rallied enough to go into the house, 
 and, in a sudden return of her passion, slammed 
 11 
 
154 SISTER TODEUNTEB'S HEART. 
 
 the door on the neck of Colonel Todhunter, who 
 incautiously looked in, and held him a prisoner until 
 a mutual understanding was effected. As may be 
 well understood, the terms were not liberal for 
 Colonel Todhunter. 
 
IV. 
 
 Of course Sister Todhunter was summarily expelled 
 from the church. The affair furnished Sweetwater 
 with a sensation for several weeks, but by and by it 
 grew to be an old topic, and Sister Todhunter could 
 venture into town upon her shopping without attract- 
 ing universal attention and comment. She was a 
 cash customer, a fact that helped wonderfully to gain 
 her defenders, and, besides, many people regarded 
 her as victorious in the church fight, and enjoyed the 
 way she laid about her. But there was no friendship 
 between the female side of Sweetwater and Sister 
 Todhunter. She had talked too plainly. 
 
 Reader, did you ever see a baby fade away with- 
 out apparent cause, baffling the oldest physicians and 
 wringing the very life from its mother, hour by hour, 
 day by day ? — watch its poor little face grow old and 
 pinched, and its great eyes grow brighter until they 
 seemed to burn like candle-flames in the empty sock- 
 ets? So faded the little babe that nestled in the 
 depths of its soft nest when the parson's wife showed 
 
 1.-5 
 
156 SISTER TODRUNTEB'S HEART. 
 
 the assembled matrons of Sweetwater her laces and 
 curtains in the shadowed room back of the parlor. 
 Day by day the mother sat in her low rocker, her 
 tender eyes npon the wasting form, a fever in her 
 own brain, and a weight upon her heart that had 
 driven out every tear-drop and left her powerless to 
 weep. By day and by night she sat there, bathing 
 the babe in the dry grief of despair. The little frame 
 lay bared before her — legs of a thimble^s thickness, 
 with the skin crumpled upon them, arms that were 
 the arms of a doll, and hands that scarce checked the 
 light that fell upon them when the mother lifted 
 them again and again in her mute despair. 
 
 The doctor had yielded up hope : save one or two, 
 the neighbors, worn out, had withdrawn ; and to-day, 
 the day of which I write, the mother sat waiting for 
 the rustle of the angel's wing. 
 
 As there she sat, suddenly the doorway was dark- 
 ened, and Sister Todhunter from the mountain of her 
 awful presence looked down upon the scene. 
 
 ^'Why hain't you sent fur me!" she said bluffly. 
 Parson Riley's wife looked up and then back again. 
 She did not comprehend that she was addressed. 
 Sister Todhunter looked at the baby. Then she ran 
 her hands under it gently and raised it, pillow and all. 
 'T was but a feather's weight. The mother yielded 
 meekly, and fastened her eyes anxiously upon the 
 great rescuer who had arrived. 
 
"I 've seen many er sicker kitten 'n this git well." 
 
SISTER TODHUNTER'S HEART. 157 
 
 " Is there any hope ? " she asked humbly. 
 
 "Hope?" Sister Todhunter gave her a look of 
 scorn. " I should say so ! I Ve seen many er sicker 
 kitten ^n this git well. Go git me some mullein." 
 
 ''Mullein?" 
 
 " Yes, mullein. Don't yer know mullein when you 
 see hit ! " Parson Riley's wife shook her head sadly. 
 
 " I have never seen any/' she said. 
 
 ^'Well, go an' tell the cook ter bring me some. 
 Lord, what sorter women will the nex' set be ! Never 
 seen mullein!" But the mother was gone, and the 
 lady who had been keeping her company turned up 
 her nose and silently followed her. The cook had 
 heard of mullein, fortunately, which grows wild in all 
 Georgia, and soon appeared with some. 
 
 " So," said Sister Todhunter contentedly when she 
 saw it. "Now go make some strong tea outer hit. 
 Make hit with milk." The cook hurried away. Every- 
 body seemed to gain life when Sister Todhunter took 
 command. The tea soon arrived, and the new nurse 
 administered a couple of teaspoonfuls. 
 
 " He can't' retain anything a moment," said the 
 mother ; " it is no use to torture him any more." 
 
 " Will yer hush ? " Sister Todhunter almost shouted 
 the question. "Don't yer reck'n I 've seen er sick 
 baby 'fore now ? " 
 
 Parson Riley's wife "hushed" and became a mute 
 observer. The child retained the food, and presently 
 
158 SISTER TODHUNTEB'S HEART. 
 
 Sister Todhunter gave it more. The second time its 
 eyes were fixed upon the cup, and its little lips were 
 feebly raised to meet it. It drank half a cupful, then 
 turned its face on Sister Todhunter's broad knee and 
 slept. Seeing this, a great hope grew in its mother^s 
 heart, and peered like an imprisoned spirit through her 
 anxious eyes. Metaphorically, she began to lean upon 
 the vast figure by her side, which seemed so confident 
 and resourceful. 
 
 " Lay down," said Sister Todhunter bluntly, look- 
 ing up into the face fixed so hungrily upon hers. 
 The young woman's eyes grew wistful and be- 
 seeching. 
 
 "I can't sleep," she said, "and my baby dying." 
 Sister Todhunter gave her a peculiar look. 
 
 "Of all the fools!" she began, then changed her 
 mind. " Lay down right there on the bed an' watch 
 me. The baby ain't er-dyin'." And moved by some 
 strange power the mother obeyed. 
 
 The baby slept. One, two, three, four hours passed. 
 Then it waked. The warm mullein and milk was 
 ready, and it drank again. Again it slept, and the 
 mother lying there silently drifted away into dream- 
 land too, for the first time in many days, and slept 
 the sleep of exhaustion. 
 
 Thus Parson Riley found them in the almost sound- 
 less twilight, when, hurrying back from the death- 
 bed of a distant friend who had sent for him, he 
 
SISTER TODHVXTER'S HEART. 159 
 
 tiptoed into the room. If he had been confronted 
 with Beelzebub himseK he could not have been more 
 astonished. He gazed upon the sleeping wife and 
 burly nurse, in whose broad lap slumbered the little 
 one he loved better than life, but whom, as he rode 
 homeward through the lonely pine-lands, he had 
 yielded up to its Maker. His face flushed. The 
 woman raised one hand, swept a glance over the two 
 sleepers, and then motioned to the door. Parson 
 Riley bent his head and noiselessly passed out. He 
 stood among the jasmines at his gate, with his pale 
 face turned up to the blue sky, which seemed so near 
 him there, making no sound -, and it seemed to him as 
 he waited that a mystery was unfurled about him, and 
 he grew and broadened under its touch. 
 
 Still the suns glided by, but the child lived — lived 
 and grew strong. One day Colonel Todhunter drove 
 the mules up to the front door and halted them. 
 Sister Todhunter placed the infant in its mother^s lap 
 and said : 
 
 ^'Keep him on mullein and milk a while longer. 
 He ^s all right now. — Shet up ! " she added, seeing 
 the mother's eyes fill with tears and her bosom heave ; 
 " an' if yer need me, sen' down." 
 
 " You saved my child," sobbed Parson Riley's wife, 
 " and I '11 pray for you always." 
 
 "Me saved him! That 's er pretty thing fur er 
 preacher's wife ter say! The Lord did it, chile, — 
 
160 SISTER TODRUNTEB'S HEABT. 
 
 the Lord and his muUein tea." She nearly crushed 
 the life out of Parson Riley in her hurry to get 
 out. 
 
 ^^ Madam," he began, seizing one of her hands. 
 
 "Shet up!" she replied, snatching it away. He 
 looked at her beseechingly. 
 
 " Won't you let me thank you ? " he said ; " and — 
 won't you let me say something about that other 
 matter?" 
 
 She laughed. ^' Not now, Parson. I 'm goin' home, 
 an' the Lord knows how I will find things there, fur 
 'twixt Billy and Mr. Todhunter the chances fur the'r 
 goin' wrong is the bes' in the worl'. But, Parson, you 
 can study on supp'n. When yer go ter turn ernother 
 woman out er church, don't yer go ter the neigh- 
 bors fur her character, nor ter her husban', if he 
 happens ter be a triflin' kind er man; but come 
 straight to headquarters. Trouble and worry some- 
 times sorter crusts over er woman's heart, so that 
 ev'ybody can't see hit. Parson, but hit 's there all the 
 same." She got upon the block and clambered into 
 the wagon, where in deafness sat her liege lord. 
 " Good-bye, Parson," she said, as they drove off. *' I 'm 
 glad ther baby 's mendin'. Keep him on mullein 
 tea." The parson lifted his hat. 
 
 "God bless you, madam," he said tearfully. He 
 watched them as they rolled down the lane. The 
 wheel struck a stump. 
 
SISTER TODHUXTER'S HEART, 161 
 
 ^' Did anybody ever see sech er man ? " lie heard her 
 shout. *' Gimme them lines ! " He saw the colonel 
 rock violently as the reins were wrenched out of 
 his hands, and then his patient little hairless head 
 with its broad ears settle down between his shoul- 
 ders again. Presently a turn in the road hid them 
 from sight. 
 
"DE VALLEY AN' DE SHADDER." 
 
 LOG hut with a stack chimney, at the 
 foot of a long, low hill where the 
 path that winds around it disappears 
 under a great spreading black-gum; 
 another log hut with a stack chimney, 
 over by a belt of pine woods ; and another of like 
 build beyond, where a group of water-oaks marks a 
 bend in the swamp 5 and others still, right and left in 
 the distance, until the number runs up into the 
 dozens — this is Black Ankle. But not all of it. 
 Yonder are a shed and a corn-crib, and a leaning 
 stack of fodder, and a blue-stem collard patch, and 
 snake fences, and vehicles that have stood in the 
 weather until sunstruck ; a forlorn mule j a cow that 
 all her life has evidently practiced the precept, " It is 
 better to give than to receive " ; a stray hen with her 
 little family under a gorgeous sunflower — this is 
 Black Ankle. 
 
 But hold ! There are little negroes in single gar- 
 ments that reach to their knees only, and the ten- 
 
 162 
 
''DE VALLEY AN' DE SRABDEB." 163 
 
 year-old girl bearing in her arms the infant. There 
 are the clothes fluttering on the knotted lines propped 
 up by fork saplings. There are black women, with 
 tucked-np dresses, scrubbing over the wash-tub, and 
 in the air the marvelously mellow plantation hymn, 
 and on the ground the shadow of the circling hawk, 
 and the grasshopper balancing himseK in mid air, 
 and the dipping mocking-bird on the haw-bush. Ah, 
 now indeed is this Black Ankle ! 
 
 The sun had gone down, and the shadows were 
 creeping out of the swamp, veiling Black Ankle. All 
 the poverty sign-boards were buried in the gloom, 
 and where the cabins stood fiery eyes twinkled through 
 the night. But under the great black-gum, where 
 the spring gushed, a pine-knot fire blazed merrily, 
 piling up the shadows and painting in waving 
 light the cabin front. The little porch, over which 
 ran the morning-glory and the cypress-vine, stood 
 forth as though projected by the brush of a mighty 
 artist. From every direction, by every path, there 
 came dusky figures, the simple children of the soil, 
 filling the air with songs and laughter, and passed 
 into the light. In a chair upon a table, his back 
 against the black-gum, sat a little wiinkled fiddler 
 with his battered instrument under his chin, the bow 
 twisting and sawing. And by his side, drumming on 
 the strings with a straw, stood a boy, who ever and 
 anon turned his head to laugh at some gay sally from 
 
164 "i>^ VALLEY AN^ BE SHADDEB» 
 
 the company gathered upon the smooth and well- 
 trodden ground. A favorite dancer exhibited his 
 skill until breathless, and was turning away amid 
 the plaudits of the crowd when a young woman 
 forced her way in, crying : 
 
 " Git erway, niggers ; lemme come ! " The crowd 
 shouted, " Lou, Lou ! '' ^' Lou '11 knock de shine off 
 er 'im.'^ " You got ter shuffl.' now, Beeswing." 
 
 The teeth of the young man who beat with the 
 straw shone whiter and broader as a short, active 
 girl broke into the circle. Beeswing grinned. 
 
 ^' Come back, nigger,'-' she cried. The crowd laughed 
 
 again, and as the girl's feet began to keep time with 
 
 the music, a dozen hands patted upon as many thighs, 
 
 and a voice, to which the chorus replied, added words 
 
 to the strains of the fiddle, the dancer adapting her 
 
 steps to the hints given : 
 
 " Shuffl', littr Lou ; ' ' Pretty littP Lou ; 
 
 Pretty littl' Lou ; Come 'long, Lou ; 
 
 Same as you ; Pretty littl' Lou ; 
 
 Pretty littl' Lou ; Back step, Lou ; 
 
 My gal too ; Pretty littl' Lou ; 
 
 Pretty littl' Lou ; Pretty littl' Lou ; 
 
 For wood too ; Look at Lou! " 
 
 The dancer held her dress back and "walked 
 around,'' turning her toes in, and the crowd laughed. 
 But the song continued : 
 
 ' ' Pretty littl' Lou ; ' ' Pretty Httl' Lou ; 
 
 Pretty littl' Lou ; Balunce too ; 
 
 Cross-step Lou ; Pretty littl' Lou." 
 
"DE VALLEY AN' DE SHADDEE." 165 
 
 The girl whirled around amidst a cloud of cotton, 
 revealing her ankles, and the leader started the laugh 
 by chiming in, followed by the refrain, again : 
 
 ''Oom oom oo; '' See yer froo ; 
 
 Pretty littl' Lou ; Pretty littP Lou ; 
 
 Short dog Lou ; Turkey trot Lou ; 
 
 Pretty Uttl' Lou ; Pretty littl' Lou ; 
 
 Pidgin wing Lou ; Shuffl', littl' Lou ; 
 
 Pretty littl' Lou ; Pretty littl' Lou." 
 
 Beeswing broke out of the circle, and the dance 
 ended amid the shouts of the company. 
 
 The tune changed. Old Morris, the fiddler, began 
 a quaint march, and two by two the dancers prom- 
 enaded around, the clear voices of the women leading 
 the song : 
 
 " Turn 'er high, turn lady, 
 
 Turn lor'. 
 
 Turn dat lady Cymlin ; 
 
 Turn 'er high, turn lady, 
 
 Turn lor'. 
 
 Turn dat lady 'roun'." 
 
 The men turned their partners with one hand held 
 overhead, and " the lady " spun until her dress swelled 
 out like a balloon. Then she bowed and the men 
 patted quick time, all singing, while their partners 
 sprang to the center and danced : 
 
 " Knock candy, Candy gal ; 
 Knock candy, Candy gal ; 
 No harm to knock candy ; 
 
166 ''DE VALLEY AN' DE SHADDEE." 
 
 " Littr in de wais' an' pretty in de face ; 
 No harm to knock candy ; 
 Two ways to knock Candy gal ; 
 No harm to knock candy." 
 
 Again came the quaint song, " Turn 'er high, turn 
 lady" J again the slow march, and again the whirl. 
 This time the men sprang to the center, and old 
 Morris, sweeping his head to his knee, struck up a 
 breakdown, to which the women sang : 
 
 ''You sif' de meal, you gimme de husk; 
 You bake de bread, you gimme de crus' ; 
 You bile de pot, you gimme de grease ; 
 Ole Kate, git over ; 
 Git over, old Kate ; 
 Git over ! " 
 
 Several verses followed, first the women dancing, 
 then the men, ever returning to the promenade song. 
 
 Dance followed dance, jig, shnffle, song, and refrain, 
 and the hours glided by. A tiny silver crescent was 
 the moon, but it had long since sunk behind the hiU. 
 Old Morris nodded, but his bow kept moving. " Wake 
 up, old man," shouted a voice as the rout went round. 
 " Hush yo' mouf, nigger," he answered back. ^' Dis 
 fiddle knows me, an' hit 'u'd keep er-singin' ef I uz to 
 go plum ter sleep " ; and the livelier wave in " Sallie 
 Gooden," which the interruption had stimulated, 
 faded away into monotony again. 
 
 So went the night. But a gaunt spectre stood 
 unseen on the black bank of shadows piled up be- 
 
''DE VALLEY AX' DE SHADDEB." 167 
 
 yond the gumtree. Into these old plantation dances, 
 harmless once and picturesque, had come, with the 
 new freedom, a new element. On the porch in the 
 shadow, where he had rolled over unnoticed, stupid 
 with drink, lay Ben Thomas, the host. A heavy, 
 brawny negro, he seemed some fifty years old when 
 the stirred logs flashed a light upon him. At the far 
 end of the little porch his young mulatto wife was 
 tossing small coins in a circle of men, who applauded 
 when she won and were silent when she lost. Sud- 
 denly the game ended, the woman empty-handed. 
 
 What stirred the sleeper? Who can tell? But 
 stir he did, then waked, and gazed about him. The 
 last thi'ow of the coin attracted his attention. He 
 felt in his pocket ; then letting his feet to the ground 
 he staggered forward and supported his wavering 
 form against a post. 
 
 *^ Mandy,^^ he said gently, and he seemed to sober as 
 he spoke, " did you tek my money 1 " 
 
 ^^ Yes,^' she laughed, '^ I did." Her tones were care- 
 less and defiant. 
 
 "Wharhit, MandyT^ 
 
 " Whar you reck'n ? " 
 
 ^^Whar hit, Mandy?" The man's voice was still 
 calm. Silence had fallen on the group. 
 
 " Los\" 
 
 " Oh, w'at yer mekin' er fuss erbout er littl' money 
 fur ? Ain' er man's wife got er right ter hit ef hit 's 
 
168 ''DE VALLEY AN' DE SHADDEB." 
 
 his'n?" The speaker was a low-browed, vicious- 
 looking negro, Mandy's late opponent. Ben did not 
 notice him, but returned to his query ; 
 
 " Who got dat money, Mandy ? '^ 
 
 The gambler contemptuously threw three silver 
 quarters into her lap, for she was still sitting. 
 
 " Heah, Mandy, I len^ you nuif ter pay 'im. Dern er 
 man w'at '11 'buse es wife 'fo' folks, an' en 'er own 
 house." The gambler looked around for indorsement, 
 but got none. All eyes were upon the husband. He 
 stooped forward and took the coins, placing them in 
 his pocket. 
 
 "No man kin len' money ter my wife," he said 
 gently, for the first time addressing the gambler; " an' 
 hit ain' len'in' w'en money w'at 's stole comes back." 
 
 " Who stole hit ? Who stole hit ? " A savage look 
 gleamed in the gambler's eye. 
 
 "Fuss she stole hit," said the husband, "an' den 
 you stole hit ; fur ter cheat er ooman es des same es 
 stealin'." 
 
 Quick as the spring of a panther was the movement 
 of the gambler as he threw himself upon the now 
 sober man who had accused him. There was a brief 
 struggle; the gambler clasped one hand over his 
 breast and staggered. A knife dropped from under 
 his hand as he suddenly extended his arm, and with 
 a deep sigh he sank lifeless in his tracks. 
 
 The crowd opened, letting the red fireUght flood the 
 
"Djb? valley an* DE SHADDER. 169 
 
 scene. Ben stood with folded arms, gazing upon the 
 corpse, but like a shadow falling, the woman glided 
 from her low perch by the prostrate figure and 
 snatched the bloody knife from the ground. For an 
 instant she crouched, her yellow face upturned to her 
 husband, a strange light in her eyes, and her long 
 black hair tumbling down upon her shoulders. She 
 seemed about to spring at his throat. But only for 
 an instant. The knife vanished in the folds of her 
 dress, and she pointed straight into the black depths 
 of the swamp. 
 
 "Run, run!" she whispered. Ben gazed about 
 him defiantly, then turned and strode away into the 
 shadow. None pursued. His arms dropped as he 
 disappeared, but no eye was strong enough to follow 
 and see the faint flash of light that trembled for an 
 instant upon the steel in his hands, like the glimmer 
 of a glow-worm through the texture of a dead leaf. 
 
 The woman still crouched by the corpse, but she 
 saw it not. Her eyes were fixed upon the shadow 
 that had closed over her husband. Horror and fear 
 seemed to have frozen her. The wondering group 
 discussed the tragedy, and constructed a rude litter 
 for the dead. But as they bore the body off, a man 
 approached her and asked to see the knife. She 
 turned her yellow face to his for an instant, then 
 bounded by him and was swallowed up in the swamp. 
 Forward she went through brake and bramble. A 
 
 12 
 
170 ''DE VALLEY AN' DE SHADDEE." 
 
 great gnarled oak reached out to stop her, but in 
 vain ; and from the grasp of the bushes that clutched 
 her she rushed madly. Suddenly the silent stretch of 
 a gi-eat lagoon was before her. She lifted her arm 
 and frantically hurled the knife far out into the 
 night. No sound came back, though she held her 
 breath until her eyes started from their sockets. But 
 yes, at last — a far, faint splash, as when a cooter 
 glides from his log and seeks his couch in the slime 
 below. 
 
 '^ Ben ! " she whispered, " Ben ! " There was no 
 answer. "Ben!" This time it was a scream. A 
 thousand echoes darted here and there in the sound- 
 ing swamp, and as they died away a strange, sad sigh 
 was wafted out of the depths. Turning, she fled back 
 to life, pursued by a host of terrors. How she 
 reached it she knew not, but presently she fell pros- 
 trate upon the floor of the cabin. Crouching there 
 in the shadow was the aged form of her husband's 
 mother, crooning to his babe. Neither spake, and 
 lying on her face the young woman spent the remain- 
 ing hours of the night. But ever and anon she heard 
 the splash of the knife in the waters, the echoes calling 
 ^^ Ben," and that strange, sad sigh of the spirit as it 
 left the dead man's body. 
 
II. 
 
 Weeks passed. The little brown baby fell to the 
 care of its grandmammy. A spell was upon Mandy. 
 With her long hair down upon her shoulders, elbows 
 upon her knees, and face in her hands, she sat by the 
 hour under the great black- gum, gazing down into 
 the shadowy depths of the swamp. With an intuition 
 and refinement of kindness not uncommon to the 
 race, the elder woman kept silent upon the events of 
 that dreadful night. Not once did she refer to the 
 tragedy, not once to the wild life of the young wife 
 of which it was the culmination, — wild, for it had 
 been the same old story of mismated ages and foolish 
 playing with fire. Quietly she had gone on doing 
 the cooking and the washing, and the little brown 
 baby, as she toiled, played with its rag doll, and 
 preached to the sleepy cat. When the baby cried for 
 food she placed it in its mother's arms, where, as it 
 lay, Mandy studied the round face vaguely. But no 
 tear fell upon the child, and the old mammy wondered 
 as she watched the two. 
 
 " Mandy ain' come 'roun' yit," she said to a neigh- 
 bor once. " De Lord es 'flictin' her mighty hebby ; 
 
 171 
 
172 ''I>E VALLEY AN' DE SH ADDER" 
 
 but she '11 come bimeby, she'll come bimeby." Yet 
 the time seemed long. 
 
 One day, as thus they sat, the Rev. Kesiah Toomer, 
 or "Unc' 'Siah/' as he was called, leaned over the 
 split- oak picket. His aged face, full of wrinkles, and 
 its white eyebrows, beamed down kindly upon them. 
 
 ^^Mornin', Aunt Charlotte," he said, touching the 
 battered old straw hat that kept the sun from his 
 bald head and its kinky fringe of snowy hair ; " how 
 you do des mornin' ? " His was a soft, flexible voice, 
 full of conciliatory curves. 
 
 " I 'm toler'ble," replied the woman simply. 
 
 "HowMandy?" 
 
 " She 's tolerable." The young woman was dream- 
 ing into the depths, and heard nothing. 
 
 ^^HowlittrBen?" 
 
 "He'stoler'ble." 
 
 "How Sis' Harriet r^ 
 
 "She'stoler'ble." 
 
 " Yes 'm." Unc' 'Siah's face mellowed a little more, 
 and he shifted his weight to the other foot. 
 
 "Howyou, Unc"Siah?" 
 
 " I 'm toler'ble, bless God ! " 
 
 "HowPhylUs?" 
 
 ^^She'stolei-'ble." 
 
 " The chillun all got weU?" 
 
 " Yes 'm, dey all toler'ble." 
 
 " Won't yer come en an' res' ? " 
 
"DE VALLEY AN' DE SHADDEB." 173 
 
 Unc' ^Siah replied by limping slowly into the yard. 
 He had a leg that was stiff with rheumatism and gave 
 liim a painf Ill-looking gait. He seated himself in 
 the splint-bottom chair proffered him. For some time 
 he was silent. Every now and then his eye rested 
 upon the sleeping child and the brooding mother. 
 Charlotte knew that he had something to say. 
 
 " You seen Ben ? '' she asked quietly. The old man 
 stirred in his seat. 
 
 "Yes^m," he said; "seen him yestiddy.'^ There 
 was a slight change in the face of Mandy ; no move- 
 ment, but the eyes seemed to lose their far-away look 
 and fix themselves on something nearer. 
 
 " Wat ^e say?" 
 
 " Well/' replied the old man, thrusting out his stiff- 
 ened limb, " he ain' say much. Hit ^s mighty nigh 
 unto fo' weeks sence he uz put en jail, an' dey es 
 gointer have es trial next Chuesday." Then pres- 
 ently : " You bin deir, Mandy ? '^ Mandy turned her 
 hunted eyes upon him. 
 
 "Yes," she whispered, after awhile; "an' he druv 
 me 'way." Silence fell upon the little group. The 
 old woman was studying the face of the man, turned 
 towards the ground. The other had sunk again into 
 hopelessness above the baby. Presently Unc' 'Siah 
 spoke : 
 
 " He do say dat dem lyyers 'low dat deir 's mighty 
 littr chance fur 'im 'less 'n dat knife er Bill's 'd been 
 
174 ^ ''DE VALLEY AN' BE SHADDEB." 
 
 picked up by somebody w'at uz leanin' ter our side er 
 de case, ^cause Bill's name uz on bit, ef bit uz Bill's, 
 an' 'u'd sbow fur bitse'f. Plenny uv 'em seed Mandy 
 snatcb bit fum de groun', an' sum ses es bow et uz 
 Ben's an' sbe uz erfeard ter sbow bit, an' sum ses es 
 bow bit uz Bill's an' sbe uz er-bidin' bit 'cause sbe 
 liked Bill more 'n Ben ; an' so bit goes. Now, ses I, 
 deir ain' nutb'n' en dat, an' Mandy '11 sw'ar in de court- 
 bouse sbe flung bit en de swamp fur Ben's 'tbout 
 lookin' at bit, — des like you say, boney, — but dey 'low, 
 does dem lyyers, es bow Mandy, bein' de prisoner's 
 wife, can't sw'ar en de case. But ef de knife uz deir, 
 ses dey, bit 'u'd tork fur bitse'f, 'cause deir ain' no 
 'sputin' de name, an' Sam Toliver an' Bob Jobnsin 
 knowed bit by sigbt. You could n't fin' bit, you 
 reck'n. Sis' Mandy ? " Tbe woman sbuddered. ''No," 
 sbe said, "I bin deir en tbe day, but de place es 
 cbanged fum en de nigbt ; an' et nigbt, — I can't go 
 deir, Unc' 'Slab ! I can't go deir ! An' bit ain' no use 
 ter go en de dark, an' bit en de water." Unc' 'Slab 
 was silent a moment. Presently be added : 
 
 " Ben ses, ses be, ' Ef Marse Bob uz beab bit 'u'd be 
 all rigbt.' But deir ain' no cbance now, fur 'e live 
 'way off yander sebenty odd mile, an' no railroad balf 
 way. An' beab 't is er Tbu'sday 'bout sundown." 
 Mandy turned ber face to bis, but bis eyes looked 
 away, and be bad given bimself up to reflection. 
 Presently be said, as if addressing no one in par- 
 ticular : 
 
"DE VALLEY AN' DE SHADDER." 175 
 
 " My ole Mis' tell me oncst, ' 'Siah/ ses slie, des so, 
 ^ w'en de heart es sick an' lonesome deir ain' no med'- 
 cin' like work. Ef you got ter set down an' study 
 'bout hit hit 's gointer eat, es dis heah sickness 5 but 
 ef you es er-workin', hit gits out into suthin' else.' 
 Lord, but she live up ter hit too ; an' w'en Marse Sam 
 uz shot et Chinck'nhominy, es dey say, she tu'n en an' 
 cut up cyarpets fur de sogers, an' knit socks, an' 
 scrape lint twell bimeby hit uz all done ; an' one day 
 I seen 'er pickin' cotton in de orchud patch like er 
 common nigger, an' I ses den, ^ Ole Mis', hit 's er sin 
 an' er shame fur you ter do like dat.' An' right deir 
 she lif' up 'er ban's, dat de sun almos' shine troo, an' 
 say, ' Gimme work ter do, 'Siah 5 gimme work ter do ! ' 
 An' lemme tell yer, right deir, too, I broke down. 
 But hit kep' ^er up, an' she ain' dead yit, but as peart 
 as anybody. Yes, sir, work es er big t'ing for hebby 
 eyes." 
 
 On the face of the yellow woman over her babe 
 a thought was dawning. A new spirit shone in her 
 eyes, and a quickening breath shook her form. As 
 she gazed upon the old man he took a pair of silver- 
 rimmed spectacles from his pocket and adjusted them. 
 Then he drew out a worn Bible. The woman sank 
 back again, but the thought in her eyes remained. 
 
 " Sis' Mandy," said he, " let de Lord speak, fur deir 's 
 trouble in sto' fur you an' yourn." Charlotte rested 
 her chin upon her hand, and her knitting, which she 
 
176 "^^ VALLEY AN' DE SHADDEB:' 
 
 had drawn out, dropped to the ground. The old man 
 began, but his progress was slow. He had to spell 
 out many words, and explain as he read : 
 
 ^' '■ Be Lord es my sheppud, I shall not want.^ Bless 
 de Lord fur dat ! ^ Shall not want ' ; you heah dat, 
 Sis^ Mandy ; not want fur nuth'n\ Don' care w'at hit 
 es, you shall not want hit long, sha'n't keep on er- 
 want'n' hit ef de Lord es yo' sheppud — an' you es 
 one er de flock. No, chile ! 
 
 '' ' j?e makes me to lay doivn in green pastures, 'e leads 
 me deside de still waters,^ — yes, Lord, we know w'at 
 dat means fur er sheep, — whar de grass es long an^ 
 green an' de water es cole, an' deir es shade all day 
 long ; dat 's de place fur yo' sheep an' yo' lam's. 
 
 ^'^Se restoHth my soul; he leads up de paf er de 
 righteous fur es name^ sahe.'' Des heah dat ! Hit makes 
 no diffunce whar dat paf es er-goin' ; by de big road, 
 or ercross de corn-rows, or troo de swamp hitse'f, — 
 he 's gointer lead de waj^; an^ hit 's all de same ef 
 hit 's day or night ; hit 's all one wid de Lord. 
 
 " ^ Yea, though I ivalk troo de valley er de shadder er 
 death, I HI fear no devil/ — no, sir-r-r! No devil 
 gointer hu't you deir, fur deir 's er han' en de shadder, 
 an' hit 's more 'n er match fur him and his kind j dat 
 hit es! 
 
 a ' Fur thou art wid me, thy rod an^ thy staff dey com- 
 forts me.' Oh, yes, chillun, Jesus es deir by de side 
 er de troo berlievers, ef dey only knowed hit. An' 
 
Tek de babv, Mammy 
 
''DE VALLEY AN' DE SHADDEB." 177 
 
 w'en dey es come out er de valley an' de shadder, 
 w'at den? 
 
 " ' Thou prepares' er table fur me e7i de presunce uv 
 my enemies : thou a-n-o-i-n-t-e-t-h my head with oil, an' 
 7ny cup hit runs over.' — Dat '11 be er happy day den ! 
 Oh, yes, oh, yes, w'en de cup es full de heart es full, 
 an' de eyes dey runs ober, 'cause uv de fullness erway 
 down below j yes, ma'am. W'en dat tayble es spread 
 hit '11 make anybody's eyes run over; barbecued 
 shote, br'iled chicken, fat ham, biscuits, white bread, 
 ^simmun beer, all spread right deir en de presunce er 
 de enemy, de ole devil hisse'f fairly bustin' wid hunger 
 an' spite, but pow'less, 'cause de sheppud es deir ter 
 guard de lam's. 
 
 " An' w'en hit 's all done w'at ses de prophet ! Wen 
 de hard heart done lay down hits load an' de feet 
 been en de valley an' de shadder, an' by de waters an' 
 'cross de pastures er-f earin' nuth'n', w'at den ? 
 
 " ' Sholy ! ' ses he, ^ sholy ! ' — oh, hit 's er great word 
 is dat sholy, — ' sholy goodness an' mussy shall f oiler 
 me all de days er my life, an' I 'II dwell den en de house 
 er de Lord.' Bless him fur de promise ! " 
 
 'Si ah closed his book, and drew off his glasses, 
 and wiped them carefully upon the lining of his coat. 
 But the young woman stood up with the new thought 
 fairly speaking in her round brown eyes, and a new 
 vigor trembling in her frame. 
 
 " Tek de baby, Mammy," she almost shouted, plac- 
 
178 ''DE VALLEY AN' DE SH ADDER:' 
 
 ing little Ben in the other's lap. " I 'm er-goin \ — 
 don't you heah? — I'm goin' troo de valley an' de 
 shadder an' by de waters an' cross de pastures twell 
 He show me Marse Bob ! I bin bline, Mammy, I bin 
 bline, but I ain't bline now ! He done op'n my eyes 
 an' I see de way. G-ood-bye ! Good-bye, Mammy ! 
 Good-bye, Unc' 'Siah ! Keep de baby en yo' bed, 
 Mammy, en de night, an' don't let ^im cry fur me.— 
 En de valley an' de shadder an^ by de pastures ! — En 
 yo' bed. Mammy — " 
 
 She turned away. Her voice died out as she passed 
 beyond the live-oaks, but like a wind- whisper among 
 the pines it returned once more — " en y o' bed." Then, 
 and then only, did Unc' 'Siah lift up his face from his 
 hands and fix it skyward. 
 
 " De Lord he has spoke at las'. Hit 's all right, 
 Sis' Charlotte. De Lord's han' es er-reachin' out fur 
 Ben. Dat es Bill's knife.'^ 
 
 Charlotte spoke not. Bending until her head rested 
 against the one ragged garment of the sleeping child, 
 she rocked him in silence. The old man gazed upon 
 her doubtfully, but presently he rose, and in silence 
 too limped out across the field. 
 
III. 
 
 On went the young woman, her straight, strong 
 limbs bearing her bravely ; on into the great road, on 
 through the village with its lazy groups sitting about 
 in the afternoon shade, on past the jail, never stop- 
 ping. She moved as one in a trance, and the strange 
 light shone from her eyes. 
 
 " ^ En de valley an' de shadder,' Ben," she shouted, 
 '^ but er-f earin' nuth'n'. An' I 'm comin' back leanin' 
 on His rod an' His staff ; I 'm er-comin' back." People 
 looked at her curiously, but she stopped for none. 
 The shadows fell ; night found her on the lonely 
 highway. The tall pines crooned above; it seemed 
 as though a spirit sighed from the lips of the dying 
 man. A whippoorwill called from the depths of the 
 forest ; to her it was a voice from the past, and 
 strange things caught at her dress as she glided by. 
 
 "^En de valley an' de shadder,'" she whispered, 
 " ' an' ieanin' on His rod an' staff.' " No moon rose 
 to comfort her, but a mocking-bird sang as he used to 
 sing in the haw-bush by the cabin when the baby was 
 rolling on his back in the sand and she was sewing. 
 On, never faltering ; tired of limb, hungry and athirst, 
 but onward still. 
 
 179 
 
180 "-D^ VALLEY AN' DE SHADDEE." 
 
 At dawn of day she dropped down by a friendly 
 door in the city's suburbs, and told her story. The 
 hospitality of the South animates the humblest dwell- 
 ing, and the humbler the roof the broader the unques- 
 tioning hospitality. Her thirst quenched, her hunger 
 appeased, she dragged her stiffening limbs into a new 
 road, and continued her journey. The sun came 
 forth and parched the ground, but the trees lent her 
 shade here and there. Thirst came back, but the 
 sparkling brook danced across her way. Hunger too 
 came again, yet the hospitable cabin followed it. 
 Night 5 and sleep, when, far in the night, she sank in 
 a fence-corner munnuring, '' ^ En de valley an' de shad- 
 der.'" And as she slept, nothing e\al passed the 
 sentinel that there stood guard beside her. 
 
 With the dawn the blistered feet resumed their 
 weary way. The histoiy of one day was the history 
 of the next. She started on Thursday ; on Monday 
 morning she passed through the great white columns 
 of a princely home, and told her story for the last 
 time ; and at 10 o'clock the next morning the trial of 
 Ben Thomas for murder was to begin at Jeffersonville, 
 in Twiggs county, seventy odd miles away. 
 
 The evening of the same day found Mandy back in 
 the city, and with her was a gray-haired man — Marse 
 Bob, she called him -, and the people who passed him 
 on the street touched their hats to him, and looked 
 back as his tall form went by. A buggy was to bear 
 
''DE VALLEY AN' DE SHADDEE." 181 
 
 him to Jeffersonville in tlie early morning, bnt for her 
 there was work yet to be done. 
 
 ^'W^en you pass Black Ankle/' she said to him, 
 *^ I '11 be deir." Before he could stop her she had 
 gone. 
 
 Not a voice broke the stillness of the hamlet as she 
 entered among the brooding cabins, save the far bark- 
 ing of Bill Fowler's dog. She had heard that animals 
 see spirits : was he barking at his master's ghost come 
 back again 1 Her flesh crept, and she almost screamed 
 as she trod unawares on the spot where the man died. 
 There was no light in the little house, no sound: 
 should she enter ? The wail of a baby came out to 
 her, — a feeble wail, as of one sick or starving. She 
 laid her hand upon the latch. 
 
 '' No," she moaned, " not now. Hit ^s de las^ chance, 
 de las'." She passed down into the black swamp, 
 lying there in the clouded moon like the grave itself. 
 
 " ^ En de valley an' de shadder,' " she whispered, 
 " ' an' er-fearin' nuth'n'.' " As she entered there, that 
 other night came back, and its horrors rose about 
 her. There was the bush that clasped her knees, 
 there the crooked tree that barred the way, and there 
 the tangled brake. 
 
 Then the lagoon, with its wide, still stretch of water, 
 lay at her feet. 
 
 " Ben ! " she called ; but the name died on her 
 throat. She raised her head again and threw the 
 
182 "-D^ VALLEY AN' DE SHADDEE." 
 
 knife with all lier might, — aye, for the handle seemed 
 in her grasp as hard and bloody as on that fatal 
 night ! Yonder it would fall, she thought, straining 
 her eyes to where the black night rested upon the 
 cold, pale sheen of waters, and lo ! so it seemed to 
 fall. There came back from the carpeted gloom the 
 same splash ! She gasped, and clutched an overhang- 
 ing vine. 
 
 ^' ' En de valley an' de shadder, thy rod an' thy 
 staff, an' er-f earin' nuth'n',' " she whispered brokenly ; 
 and so, half moaning, she let herself down into the 
 silent water. The chilly flood rose to her armpits, 
 but she moved forward straight into the gloom. 
 Once she stumbled, and the flood rolled over her, but 
 straight on she passed, with a precision seemingly 
 supernatui^al. As she moved she felt with her bruised 
 and torn feet in the soft ooze and in the slime j slowly 
 and patiently, for she fancied she could tread every 
 foot of the dark depths until the knife was found. 
 
 But there is a limit to human progress in Black 
 Ankle Swamp ; and just as the spot was reached to 
 which she had calculated that her strength could have 
 hurled the bloody weapon, the ground passed from 
 under her feet. Frantically she clutched at a cypress 
 knee to draw back, when instantly a sharp, swift pain 
 ran along her arm. She had touched a snake, and he 
 had struck his fangs into her clenched hand ! She 
 must not lose her hold; she did not. But her lips 
 
''DE VALLEY AN' DE SHADDEB.'' 183 
 
 opened and sent up one wild, frenzied cry from that 
 dreadful place, — ''Oh, my God ! '^ 
 
 But what was that ? There was no serpent in her 
 grasp ; only the long, keen blade of a knife, thrust 
 into the tender cypress. Ignorant and superstitious, 
 her frame trembled with terror j then the truth was 
 upon her. The weapon she had hurled out into the 
 night had stuck where it had struck ; the splash was the 
 plunge of a startled cooter. She drew it from its rest 
 and rushed from the place, as when a brown deer, the 
 hounds pressing hard, breaks through the swamp 
 and the cane and the treacherous ooze into the clear 
 fields beyond. 
 
 But gone now fatigue! The woman passed the 
 cabin, with its crib and its memories, almost without 
 knowing it, and took the road back to the city. It 
 would have been as weU to crouch there and wait for 
 the buggy or to have sought the village, but wait she 
 could not. The fever was upon her ; she must move. 
 So she ran citjnvard to meet the gray-haired rescuer. 
 Mile after mile passed, hour after hour, and still he 
 came not. Day broke, and the sun rose. A pre- 
 science of mortal danger was upon her, faintly at first, 
 a terror at last ; and mastering the fevered energy of 
 her great struggle, it slew her strength and hurled 
 her by the wayside, to lie with her hunted eyes fixed 
 upon the tree-arched lane overhead. 
 
 As thus she Iry, an old man riding a flying gray 
 
184 ''DE VALLEY AN' DE SHADDER:' 
 
 horse rose in the shadowed light of the lane, and 
 presently burst into the full sunlight there before her. 
 The thundering feet of the animal were almost upon 
 her as she staggered dizzily to her feet and thrust up- 
 ward the knife. Wonder shone in the face of the 
 rider as, divining the truth, he caught the weapon 
 and passed swiftly from her view. A smile came over 
 her wan face. " ' En de valley an^ de shadder,' " she 
 whispered feebly, then set her feet towards home. 
 
 Tired? Yes, tired near unto death, but leaning 
 upon a rod and a staff that mortal vision could not 
 compass. 
 
TV. 
 
 It was a sultry noon, and Jeffersonville was brisk. 
 As Jeffersonville is brisk only during the court week, 
 when the lawyers from Macon ride down to look after 
 the warehousemen's mortgages, and the leading attor- 
 neys from the adjoining counties run over to look 
 after the Macon lawyers and attend to the criminal 
 docket, it may be inferred that court was in session. 
 
 About the large, white, square frame building with 
 its green blinds and three entrances, little groups of 
 farmers were gathered and many unhitched teams 
 were visible. Within the one great room that takes 
 up the whole of the first floor, and from which ascend 
 steps to the various county oflices above, were the 
 usual court-house habitues, — jurors who hope in vain 
 to " get off," and citizens of limited income who yet 
 hope to " get on.'^ In front of the door was the 
 judge's elevated desk, with the clerk lower down, 
 whose feet rested in a chair while his mouth twisted 
 a tooth-pick. The midday meal had just ended, and 
 the court had not reentered. To the right and left 
 were the jury benches. The front half of the room 
 was devoted to the Bar, which by courtesy included 
 
 13 185 
 
186 ''I>E VALLEY AN' DE SHABDEB" 
 
 all leading citizens, and tlie rear to negroes and the 
 promiscuous crowd on curiosity bent. 
 
 Apparently there was nothing exciting on hand 
 just then, though a murder trial had been interrupted 
 by a temporary adjournment. But the defendant was a 
 negro, and a negro murderer is not a novelty. While 
 the court was assembling, the curious might have 
 noted the prisoner's points. His face, if it had any 
 marked characteristics, was noted chiefly for its sin- 
 gularly inexpressive lines, and his attitude was one of 
 supreme indifference. His stout, heavy frame was 
 clad in a common jean suit stained with months of 
 wear, and his kinky hair was liberally sprinkled over 
 with gray. He sat quietly in his place, not even 
 affecting stolidity, but suffering his eyes to roam from 
 face to face as the genial conversation drifted about 
 in the group around him. He was evidently not im- 
 pressed by any sense of peril, though when the court 
 had adjourned, a clear case of murder had been 
 proved against him, and only his statement and the 
 argument remained. 
 
 Slowly the court assembled. The prisoner's coun- 
 sel had introduced no testimony. A man had been 
 stabbed by his client, had fallen dead, his hand 
 clasped over the wound ; and from beneath this hand, 
 when convulsively loosened, a knife had dropped, 
 which the defendant's wife seized and concealed. 
 This had been proved by the state's witnesses. 
 
''DE VALLEY AN' DE SHABDER." 187 
 
 The prisoner took the stand to make his statement. 
 He declared emphatically that the deceased, knife in 
 hand, had assaulted him and that he had killed him 
 in self-defense ; that the knife which fell from the 
 relaxing hand was the dead man's. He told the stor^^ 
 simply, and as he began it a tall, thick-set gentleman 
 in a gray suit, with iron-gray hair, and walking with 
 the aid of a stout stick, entered the room and stood 
 silent by the door, — heard him through, losing never 
 a word. As the prisoner resumed his seat the new- 
 comer entered within the rail. He shook hands 
 gravely with several of the older lawyers, and took 
 the hand that the court extended over the desk. Then 
 he turned and, to the astonishment of every one, 
 shook hands with the defendant, into whose face a 
 light had suddenly dawned which resolved itself into 
 a broad, silent grin. This done, the old gentleman 
 seated himself near the defendant's lawyer, and, rest- 
 ing his hand upon his massive cane, listened atten- 
 tively to the speech. 
 
 The speaker was not verbose. He rapidly summed 
 up, and laid his case before the jury in its best light. 
 Really there was not a great deal to say, and he soon 
 reached his peroration. He pictured the blasted 
 home of the poor negro, his wife and babe deprived 
 of his labor, and dwelt long upon the good name he 
 had always borne. In the midst of the most eloquent 
 periods, wherein he referred to the prisoner "sitting 
 
188 " DE VALLEY AN' DE SHADDEE." 
 
 before you, gentlemen of the jury, broken-hearted 
 and borne down by the weight of this horrible 
 tragedy/' he turned and extended his hand to where 
 his client sat. A sight met his glance that sent the 
 flush of confusion to his face and started a ripple of 
 laughter around the room. The "broken-hearted" 
 was calmly munching away on an enormous ginger- 
 cake, the liberal moon in which proved the vigor of 
 his appetite. The eloquence of the speaker was fatally 
 chilled. He stammered, repeated, hesitated, and was 
 lost. After an awkward summing up, he took his 
 hat and books and precipitately retired to a secluded 
 part of the room. He had been appointed by the 
 court to defend the prisoner and had made consider- 
 able preparation, even to the extent of training his 
 client when to weep. 
 
 The solicitor arose, and with a few cold words swept 
 away the cobwebs of the case. The man had stabbed 
 another wantonly. If the knife was the property of 
 the deceased, why was it not produced in court ? — 
 the defendant's wife had picked it up. 
 
 He passed the case to the jury, and the judge pre- 
 pared to deliver his charge, when the old gentleman 
 in gray rose to his feet. 
 
 " If your Honor please," he said in a deep tone, the 
 honesty and purpose of which drew every eye upon 
 him, " the prisoner is entitled to the closing, and in 
 the absence of other counsel I beg that you mark my 
 
^'DE VALLEY AN' BE SHADDER." 189 
 
 name for the defense. With the permission of my 
 young friend who has so cleverly stated the defense^ 
 I will speak upon the case.'^ 
 
 " Mr. Clerk," said the court, " mark General Robert 
 Thomas for the defense." The silence was absolute. 
 The jurymen moved in their seats. Something new 
 was coming. The old gentleman laid his hat and 
 stick upon the table, and drawing himself up to his 
 great height fixed his bright eye upon first one and 
 then another of the jury, looking down into their 
 very hearts. Only this old man, grim, gray, and 
 majestically defiant, stood between the negro behind 
 him and the grave. The fact seemed to speak out of 
 the silence to every man on that bench. Suddenly 
 his lips opened, and he said with quick but quiet 
 energy : 
 
 " The knife that was found by the dead man's side 
 was his own. He had drawn it before he was stabbed. 
 Ben Thomas is a brave man, a strong man ; he would 
 not have used a weapon on him unarmed ! " As he 
 spoke he drew from his bosom a long, keen knife, and 
 gently rested its point upon the table. The solicitor's 
 watchful eye was upon him. The attention of all was 
 gained, and the silence was intense. "It has been 
 asked. Where is the dead man's knife? Let me give 
 you my theory : When Bill Fowler staggered back 
 under the blow of Ben Thomas, clutching his wound, 
 and the knife fell to the ground, the lightning's flash 
 
190 ''I>E VALLEY AN' DE SRADDEB.'' 
 
 was not quicker than the change born in a moment 
 in the bosom of that erring woman, the unwitting 
 cause of the tragedy. Up to that moment she had 
 been weak and yielding j she had turned aside from 
 the little home, that should have been her all, to gam- 
 ble with strange men ; to tread the dangerous paths 
 which beset the one safe road a true woman's feet 
 may know. It had thrown a shadow over the humble 
 home; the husband drunk upon its porch was the 
 mute evidence of its presence. In the awful moment 
 of that tragedy, when the dancers stood horrified, this 
 woman became, as by an inspiration, a wife again. 
 Deceived herself, she caught up the tell-tale knife and 
 hurled it into the swamp, destroying the e\ddence of 
 her husband's innocence when she sought to conceal 
 one evidence of his guilt. This, I say, is a theory. 
 You remember her cry was, ' Eun ! ' " His listeners 
 stirred, and a whisper went round the room. 
 
 " But there is other evidence, gentlemen of the jury. 
 Should I be forced to ask for a new trial, it will be de- 
 veloped that this poor woman, repentant now, thank 
 God! walked in three days from the scene of that 
 tragedy to my home, severity miles away, to ask 
 my aid and counsel ; that, eluding me in Macon, 
 though footsore and weary and crazed with grief, she 
 returned by night to that swamp, and laboring under 
 an excitement as intense as the first, that brought the 
 scene before her so vividly that she was enabled to 
 
''DE VALLEY AN' DE SHADDEB." 191 
 
 find the knife, did find it, and bnt that an accident to 
 my vehicle delayed me it would have been offered 
 here in evidence '' 
 
 ^^ May it please your Honor," said the solicitor, '^much 
 as I dislike to interrupt the honorable gentleman, I do 
 not think it is proper to introduce with the argument 
 evidence that has not been offered upon trial." 
 
 "If your Honor please," — and the speaker turned 
 to the prosecuting officer with quiet dignity and 
 gentleness that disarmed him at once, — "a decision 
 upon such a proposition is not needed. I willingly 
 admit what is claimed. But, sir, I offer no evidence, 
 not even this knife, with the name of the deceased 
 upon it, though it comes to me direct from the hand 
 of the woman who, it has been proved, snatched 
 almost from under his hand a weapon when he fell 
 to the ground. I am but arguing a theory to account 
 for the facts that have been proved. But, gentlemen 
 of the jury," — and the knife fell to the table as he 
 turned away from it, — " not upon this theory, not upon 
 these facts, do I base the assertion that the deceased 
 had a knife in his hand when he made the assault, — 
 I speak from a knowledge of men. Ben Thomas 
 would never have stabbed an unarmed man." The 
 General looked around slowly and searched the court- 
 house with his eye, as if daring contradiction. " Why 
 do I say this 1 " he continued, turning to the court. 
 " Because I know he is as brave a man as ever faced 
 
192 ''DE VALLEY AN' DE SHADDEB." 
 
 death; a faithful man; a powerful man, and con- 
 scious of his power. Such men do not use weapons 
 upon unarmed assailant s.'^ The audience stirred in 
 their seats. The speaker turned again to the jury. 
 ^' I speak to men who reason. True reasoning with 
 such is as strong as proof. A brave man who is full 
 of strength never draws a weapon to repel a simple 
 assault. The defendant drew when he saw a glitter- 
 ing knife in the hand of his foe, — not from fear, be- 
 cause he could have fled, but to equalize the combat. 
 He was cool and calm ; you know the result. 
 
 " Why do I say he is brave ? Every man on this 
 jury shouldered his musket during the war. Most of 
 you followed the lamented Pickett. Some perhaps 
 were at Gettysburg." Two or three heads nodded 
 assent. ^' I was there too !" A murmur of applause 
 ran round the room, — the old man^s war record was 
 a household legend. It is even said that the court 
 joined in. " I, and the only brother God ever gave 
 me." The veteran bowed his head ; his voice sank to 
 a whisper. " A part of him is there yet," — his hand 
 shook slightly as he moved his cane farther on the 
 desk, and rested upon the Code, — '^ a part of him, but 
 not all ; for, God be praised, we picked up whatever 
 was left of him and brought it back to Georgia. 
 
 ^'I well remember that fight. The enemy stood 
 brave and determined, and met our charges with a 
 courage and grit that could not be shaken. Line 
 
'^> 
 
 See, if I speak not the truth ! " 
 
''DE VALLEY AN' BE SHADDEE:' 193 
 
 after line melted away during those days, and at last 
 came Pickett's charge. When that magnificent com- 
 mand went in, a negro man, an humble African, a 
 captain's body-servant, stood behind it, shading his 
 eyes with his hand, waiting. You know the result. 
 Out of that vortex of fl.ame, and that storm of lead 
 and iron a handful drifted back. From one to another 
 this man of black skin ran, then turned and followed 
 in the track of the charge. On, on, he went, under 
 my very glass, for it was my misfortune to stay 
 behind ; on through the smoke and the flame ; gone 
 one moment and in sight the next ; on up to the flam- 
 ing cannon themselves. Then there he bent and lifted 
 a form from the ground. Together they fell and rose, 
 and this three times, until, meeting them half-way, 
 I took the burden from the hero and myself bore it on 
 to safety. That burden was the senseless form of my 
 brother," — here he turned and walked rapidly to the 
 prisoner, his hand lifted on high, his voice ringing 
 like a trumpet, — ^^ gashed, and bleeding, and mangled, 
 but alive, thank God ! And the man who bore him out, 
 who came to me with him in his arms as a mother 
 would carry a sick child, himself shot with the frag- 
 ment of a shell until his great heart was almost 
 dropping from his breast, — that man, O my friends, 
 sits here under my hand ! See, if I speak not the 
 truth ! " He tore open the prisoner's shirt and laid 
 bare his breast, on which the silent splendor of the 
 
194 ''DE VALLEY AN' DE SHADBEE" 
 
 afternoon sun streamed in like a smile from heaven. 
 A great ragged seam marked it from left to right. 
 " Look ! " he cried, " and bless the sight, for that scar 
 was won by a slave in an hour that tried the souls of 
 freemen and put to its highest test the best manhood 
 of the South. No man who wins such wounds can 
 thrust a knife into an unarmed assailant. I have 
 come seventy miles in my old age and my sorrow 
 to say it." 
 
 It may have been contrary to the evidence, but the 
 jury, without leaving their seats, returned a verdict 
 of " not guilty," and the solicitor, who bore a scar on 
 his own face, smiled as he received it. 
 
 " The prisoner," said the court, rapping for order, 
 " is discharged." 
 
 ^' Yes, sah," said Ben, rising and flashing a set of 
 dazzling ivories at the judge. "I knowed hit uz all 
 right soon es I laid eyes on Marse Bob's ole gray 
 head." 
 
 He went over and clasped the old Colonel's hand 
 in both of his, giving expression also to a loud 
 laugh. " One mo' time — me an' you, Marse Bob, 
 one mo' time ! How Ole Miss gittin' on % " The old 
 man's reply was inaudible; he spoke very gently, 
 and with his chin upon his breast. Ben started back, 
 changed at once. "Dead!" he exclaimed. " Died las' 
 week ! Nobody never tole old Ben." His words were 
 heard by all present, who were sharing in his joy, 
 
''DE VALLEY A2^' BE SHABDER." 195 
 
 and silence fell upon the crowd. He regarded his 
 friend mutely for a few moments, then with his 
 hand over his eyes went back to his seat. " Young 
 Marster/' he said to a lawyer there, " gimme dat hat 
 down deir on de flo', pleas' ! '' At the gateway to the 
 inner court, he turned once more and made a rude 
 gesture inclusive of all present. "Judge," he said 
 simply, " an' gemmen, I 'm ve'y much 'bliged ter yer 
 all. Yer stood up ter Ole Marse Bob, an' yer done 
 me er good turn too." He went out with his face 
 averted. 
 
 The evening shadows gather over Black Ankle. A 
 young woman with a baby at her breast sits, weary 
 of eye and limb, under the spreading gum-tree by the 
 spring. Slowly the yellow rooster leads his followers 
 up the rail to the shed, and the lean cow at the 
 picket-gate lows for entrance. Suddenly out of the 
 valley of the shadow — of death itself — a man comes 
 and rests his hand upon the woman's head. Then the 
 twilight deepens, and we see them no more. 
 
"MINC— A PLOT. 
 
 ^HE trim little steamboat that plies 
 Lake Harris^ the loveliest of all 
 Florida waters, emerged from the 
 picturesque avenue of cj^press and 
 trailing moss called Dead River, 
 which leads out of Eustis, and glided as a shadow be- 
 twixt sea and sky toward its harbor, fourteen miles 
 away. It had been the perfection of a May day, and 
 the excursionists, wearied at last of sight-seeing, were 
 gathered upon the forward deck. The water-slopes 
 of the highlands on the right, with their dark lines of 
 orange-trees and their nestling cottages, lay restful in 
 the evening shadow fast stretching out toward the 
 boat, for the sun was dipping below the horizon with 
 the stately pines in silhouette upon his broad red face. 
 ^' Home, Sweet Home,^' '^ Old Kentucky Home," and 
 ^^Old Folks at Home" had been rendered by the 
 singers of the party with that queer mixture of pathos 
 and bathos so inseparably connected with excursion 
 songs, and a species of nothing-else-to-be-done silence 
 settled over the group, broken only by the soft throb 
 of the engine and the swish of di\dding waters. Pres- 
 
 196 
 
"MIXC"—A PLOT. 197 
 
 ently some one began a dissertation upon negro 
 songs, and by easy stages the conversation drifted to 
 negro stories. Among the excursionists sat a gray- 
 haired, tall, soldierly looking gentleman whom every 
 one called ^' Colonel," and whose kindly eyes beamed 
 out from under his soft felt hat in paternal fiiendli- 
 ness upon all. 
 
 " It is somewhat singular," he said at length, when 
 there had come a lull in the conversation, *^ that none 
 of the story-writers have ever dealt with the negro 
 as a resident of two continents. Why could not a 
 good story be written, the scene laid partly in Africa 
 and partly in the South ? I am not familiar enough 
 with the literature of this kind and the romances 
 that have been written about our darkies to say posi- 
 tively that it has not been already done, but it seems 
 to me that the opportunity to develop a character 
 from the savage to the civilized state is very fine and 
 would take well. Victor Hugo has a negro in one of 
 his West India romances whose name I forget now — 
 the story used to be familiar " 
 
 " Bug-Jargal," suggested some one. 
 
 " So it was. But in this reference is made only to 
 the man's ancestry ; and I never thought the charac- 
 ter true to life. Hugo did not know the negro." 
 
 " But, Colonel, is it not true that these people were 
 the veriest savages, and would it not be too great a 
 strain upon the realistic ideas of the day to venture 
 
198 ''MINC"—A PLOT. 
 
 into Africa for a hero, especially since Rider Hag- 
 gard has idealized it ! " 
 
 ^' I don't think so. We have no way of ascertain- 
 ing just how much the imported slaves really knew, 
 but it is a fact that a few were remarkable for some 
 kind of skill and intelligence. They were not com- 
 municative, and soon drifted into the dialect of 
 their new neighbors, forgetting their own. I had a 
 negro on my plantation who undoubtedly came from 
 Africa. I was present when my father bought him 
 upon the streets of Savannah, becoming interested in 
 his story soon after he was landed. His mother was 
 described as a sort of priestess — or, as we say, a 
 Voodoo — in her native land, which was near the 
 western coast of Africa, some twelve hundi-ed miles 
 north of Cape of Good Hope. Her influence for evil, 
 it seems, was so remarkable that as soon as possible 
 she was separated from the cargo and sent on to one 
 of the Gulf ports. This fellow was then probably 
 about thirty years old — a little jet-black man with 
 small, bright eyes of remarkable brilliancy. He 
 seemed very glad to go with us, and, I may add, 
 never at any time afterward did he ever give trouble, 
 but did readily what was required of him. He seemed 
 to take a fancy to me from the first, and his love — I 
 say love, for I believe it was genuine affection — 
 gradually extended to all white children. For chil- 
 dren of his own color — I won^t say race, for in many 
 
*'MIXC"—A PLOT. 199 
 
 respects lie differed from the ordinary negro — lie 
 entertained tlie liveliest disgust. Now a story- writer 
 could take that slave and with the help I might give 
 him — his life with us, his peculiarities, powers, cer- 
 tain singular coincidences, and the manner of his 
 death — weave a very interesting romance." 
 
 " O Colonel, do tell us the story ! " The appeal 
 came in the shape of a chorus from the ladies pres- 
 ent, and was at once reenforced by the others. A 
 pair of sweethearts who had been leaning over the 
 bow came slowly back on hearing it, and added their 
 solicitations. The genial old gentleman laughed and 
 looked out upon the waters. 
 
 '^ I did not know I was spreading a net for my own 
 feet," he said. '^ The story of this fellow would 
 require half a night, even were I able to put it in 
 shape, but I can give a rough outline of some feat- 
 ures of it. ^Minc,' as he was called, though his 
 name as near as I can imitate his pronunciation was 
 'Meeng^r/ — Mine was for a long time a sort of ele- 
 phant on the f amily^s hands. My mother was a little 
 afraid of him, I think, and the negroes themselves 
 never did entirely overcome their respect for him 
 enough to treat him exactly as one of them, although, 
 as I have intimated, he was perfectly harmless. 
 
 " Mine, however, one day exhibited a strange power 
 over animals which is even now a mystery to me. He 
 could take a drove of hogs and by a series of queer 
 
200 ''MINC"—A PLOT. 
 
 little sounds, half grunts, half groans, reduce them to 
 submission and drive them where he would. Gradu- 
 ally, as the rules for feeding and taking care of them 
 became known to him, he was given charge of the 
 plantation hogs, of which there were five or six hun- 
 dred, and no small responsibility it was. I remember 
 he at once fashioned him a little instrument from the 
 horn of a yearling ; with this he could go into the 
 swamp and by a few notes thereon call them up on 
 the run. That one horn lasted him all his life, and he 
 was with us thirty odd years. He used to wear it hung 
 round his neck by a string, and it was the one posses- 
 sion that the children could not get away from him 
 for even a moment. I think that probably some 
 superstition restrained him. 
 
 " Another queer power possessed by Mine was in 
 connection with grasshoppers. I have seen him hun- 
 dreds of times go into the orchard where the crab 
 grass was tall, and standing perfectly still give forth 
 from his chest a musical humming sound. If there 
 were any big brown grasshoppers within hearing 
 they would fly up, dart about and light upon him. 
 Sometimes he would let me stand by him, and then 
 the grasshoppers would come to me also; but Mine 
 could catch them without any trouble, while any 
 movement from my hand drove them off. Mine," 
 continued the speaker, laughing softly, " used to eat 
 the things," — exclamations from the ladies, — "and I 
 
Mine's Cal3iii. 
 
*'MINC"-^A PLOT. 201 
 
 am told that certain tribes in Africa are very fond of 
 them." 
 
 ^^ Boiled in a bag and eaten with salt they are not 
 bad/' said a young gentleman with the reputation of 
 having been everywhere. ''I have eaten what was 
 probably the same ^insect, though under the name of 
 locusts." (More exclamations.) ^^ Why not ? " he added 
 in defense. " Can anything be worse to look upon 
 than shrimps ? " 
 
 " Well/' continued the Colonel, " I soon broke Mine 
 of eating them. The grasshoppers were my favorite 
 bait for fish, and Mine developed into a most suc- 
 cessful angler, quite abandoning his cane spear — 
 though, by the way, he was as certain of a victim 
 when he struck as was a fish-hawk. I think the 
 plantation rations also had something to do with his 
 change of diet. 
 
 " Well, as Mine's queer powers came to be known 
 he was not greatly sought after by the other negroes. 
 They are slow to speak of their superstitions, but it 
 soon developed that they regarded him as being in 
 league with spirits. He lived in a little cabin down 
 on the creek apart from the others, and there was my 
 favorite haunt, for I was more than delighted with 
 Mine's accomplishments, and Mine was rapidly learn- 
 ing from me the use of many words, which gave me a 
 sort of proprietary interest in him. In time he came 
 to speak as well as the average negro, but he had a 
 
 14 
 
202 ''MINC"—A PLOT. 
 
 way of running his words together when excited that 
 made him all but unintelligible. I never did get 
 much information from him concerning his former 
 life. He did n^t seem to be able to convert terms well 
 enough to express himself. He had lived near great 
 swamps, ate fish, was familiar with the hog — this 
 much I gleaned; and from time to time he would 
 recognize birds and animals and excitedly give me 
 what were evidently their names in his own country. 
 Of course this all came to me at odd times from year 
 to year, and did not make a great impression. I 
 remember, though, that reference to his capture had 
 always a depressing effect upon him, and at such 
 times he would go off about his work. I suppose the 
 memory of his mother was the cause of this ; and I 
 soon found that to speak to him of the matter would 
 cost me Minces company, and so I quit bringing up 
 the subject. 
 
 " The things in connection with Mine that puzzled 
 me more were his superstitions. Doubtless they were 
 taught him by his mother, and the first intimation of 
 them I had was when he caught a gopher, and with a 
 bit of wire ground to an exceedingly fine point cut on 
 its shell a number of curious signs, or hieroglyphics, 
 different from anything I had ever seen, except that 
 there was a pretty fair representation of the sun. He 
 then took this gopher back to where he found it and 
 turned him loose at the entrance of his burrow, mak- 
 ing gestures indicating that the gopher was going far 
 
"MINC"—A PLOT. 203 
 
 down into the earth. He did something of this kind 
 for every gopher he caught. One day he succeeded 
 in snaring a green-head duck, and upon its broad 
 bill he carved more hieroglyphics. This done, to my 
 astonishment, and probably to the duck's also, he 
 tossed the bird high in the air and laughed as it sped 
 away. As the years went by I saw him treat many 
 birds after the same fashion. If there was room for 
 only one or two figures he would put them on, and 
 let the bird go. But as he grew older Mine ate the 
 large majority of his captures, just as any other 
 negro would. 
 
 "Well, many years passed awayj I grew up and 
 married. By this time Mine was long since a feature 
 of the plantation. My children in time took my 
 place with him, and many 's the ride he gave them in 
 his little two-wheel cart behind the oxen. I should 
 have said before that he used to haul corn to the hogs 
 when in distant fields, and wood for the house-fires on 
 the way back. The negroes no longer feared him, 
 but the negro children would run past his wagon as 
 he plodded along and sing : 
 
 ' Ole Unc' Mine 
 
 Under th' hill, 
 
 His eyes stick out 
 
 Like tater hill. 
 
 Juba dis and Juba dat, 
 
 Juba roun' de kitch'n fat, — 
 
 Juba ketch er — er ' 
 
204 "MINC"—A PLOT. 
 
 "Oh, well, I forget how the rhyme ran; but Mine 
 would stop every time and hurl a string of words at 
 them which no one could ever exactly translate ; and 
 the little brats, delighted at having provoked the 
 outburst, would kick up their heels and scamper off. 
 But along in the war,'' continued the Colonel, after 
 yielding a moment to a quiet shake of his sides over the 
 recollections trooping up, " Mine filled another office. 
 It was found that by means of a notched stick, scarcely 
 two feet in length, he could keep books, so to say, as 
 well as anybody. I can't, and never will, I reckon, 
 fathom the fellow's system. He often tried to explain 
 it J but when he had finished, you would know just 
 about what you knew at first and be a little confused 
 as to that. But he never was known to make a mis- 
 take. Sent into the fields, he would weigh cotton for 
 forty pickers all day and report at night just what 
 each picked in the morning and evening and the 
 sum of all — and all by means of his notches. I am 
 absolutely sure he brought the system from Africa, 
 for no one ever was able to understand it on the 
 plantation, and Mine never lived a day off it. You 
 will see the relation these incidents bear to my 
 first proposition as to imported negroes being simply 
 savages. 
 
 " The death of Mine was tragic and surrounded by 
 some remarkable circumstances, and here again comes 
 the story- writer's field. Two years before his death 
 
Mine's Mother. 
 
"MINC'—A PLOT. 205 
 
 Mine had caught and tamed a little cooter* about 
 twice the size of a silver dollar. He would hum a 
 queer little tune for his pet, and the thing would 
 walk around the floor for all the world as if he was 
 trying to dance. Then he would come when called, 
 and was particularly fond of sleeping in Mine's dark 
 jacket-pocket, where I suspect he found crumbs. 
 Mine would sometimes throw him into the creek just 
 in front of his cabin, but the little thing would scram- 
 ble out and get back to the hut again if Mine was in 
 sight ; if not, he staid in an eddy close by. You will 
 understand directly why I speak so particularly of 
 this. As the cooter grew larger, Mine amused him- 
 seK by cutting hieroglyphics all over its back. Into 
 these lines he rubbed dyes of his own manufacture, 
 and the result was a very variegated cooter. The old 
 man carried him almost continually in his pocket; 
 partly, I think, because the animal's antics always 
 amused the children, and partly because he was 
 the cause of Mine's getting many a biscuit. He 
 would frequently come to the house, and sitting 
 on the back porch make ^ Teeta,' as he called the 
 cooter, go through with his tricks. These gener- 
 ally resulted in Mine's getting biscuit or cake for 
 Teeta, and in his lying down and letting the animal 
 
 * *' Cooter," the common name in the South for a species of 
 turtle inhabiting lagoons and streams. The burrowing terrapin 
 is there called the gopher. 
 
206 "MiyC"—A PLOT. 
 
 crawl into his pocket after it, a feat tliat closed the 
 performance. 
 
 '^ Well, one day Mine was missing. Everything 
 about his cabin was in order, bnt he did not return. 
 He never did return. Search was made, of course, 
 and he was finally given up. The negroes dragged 
 the creek, but not with much expectation of finding 
 him, for I am afraid that some of them believed that 
 Old Nick had taken him bodily. But a month after- 
 ward my oldest boy was hunting in the big swamp 
 for the hogs, which had become badly scattered since 
 Mine's death, when in crossing a tree that had fallen 
 over one of the many lagoons thereabout whom should 
 he see sitting there but Teeta, watching him with his 
 keen little black eyes, the patch of sunlight he had 
 chosen bringing out the tattoo marks upon his shell. 
 The next instant Teeta dived off the log and disap- 
 peared. Tom came home and told of his adventure. 
 Taking a party of negroes, I returned with him and 
 dragged the lagoon. Just where the cooter had dived 
 we found the body of poor old Mine. He had fallen 
 off the log, and becoming entangled in the sunken 
 branches had drowned. And in the rotting pocket 
 of his old jacket we found the cooter hid away." 
 
 The Colonel raised his hand as exclamations broke 
 from the party. 
 
 " No; you must let me finish. The finding of the 
 cooter was not the most singular thing connected with 
 
"MINC"—A PLOT. 207 
 
 the death of Mine. Upon our return home one of the 
 superstitious negroes, greatly to my distress, cut off 
 Teeta's head. He wanted it to place it under his door- 
 step. This was to protect the place from old Mine, of 
 course ; but I had the shell cleaned, and the children 
 kept it as a memento of the faithful old slave whom 
 they had dearly loved. 
 
 " Relating this story once to an eminent traveler," 
 continued the Colonel, "he suggested that I should 
 send it to the British Museum with its history written 
 out 5 and going to New York soon after, I carried it 
 with me. It lay forgotten, however, in my trunk, and 
 I did not notice it again until one day I happened to be 
 in New Orleans. There was then in that city an aged 
 negress, claiming to be a Voodoo, and creating con- 
 siderable stir among the Northern attendants upon 
 Mardi-Gras. I don't know what suggested it, but it 
 occurred to me one day that I would let her look at 
 the shell. It was a mere fancy, or impulse, if you 
 will. I carried it to her. She was, indeed, an old 
 woman, small in stature, and bent nearly double. 
 Without speaking a word, I placed the sheU in her 
 hand. She gave one long, fixed look at it, and 
 straightened up as if casting off the weight of half a 
 century. Her lips parted, but she could not speak. 
 Then her form resumed its crook again, and placing 
 her hand against the small of her back, she gasped 
 for breath. With her bright black eyes fixed upon me 
 
208 ''MINC'—A PLOT. 
 
 she said at last, after a violent struggle, ^Meeng'r!' 
 It was a mere whisper. I spent an hour with the poor 
 old creature, and told her the story of her son's life, 
 for it was undoubtedly he. I gleaned from her that 
 the hieroglyphics upon the shell were taught him by 
 her, — what they signified she would not say, — and 
 that he had written them upon the birds of the air, 
 the beasts of the field, and the inhabitants of the 
 water, that they might be borne to her wherever hid. 
 I never got my shell back : it would have been like 
 tearing the miniature of a dead child from its mother's 
 bosom. And the old woman, when I went to see her 
 next day, had disappeared." 
 Here the old gentleman arose and went forward. 
 
A BORN INVENTOR. 
 
 ANKY GUNNER replaced her 
 rapidly cooling iron before the 
 coals in the great fireplace of her 
 log-cabin, took up a fresh one, 
 spit upon its smooth surface, and, 
 satisfied that the abrupt "teest" that saluted her ear 
 indicated the right temperature, faced her visitor 
 across the ironing-board. 
 
 " No, I don't reckon as how it 's posserbul thet airy 
 anuther sech boy do live on the face of the yarth as 
 our Bill. The parson says as how he es er borned 
 inwenter, — whatever thet may be, w'ich mebbe you 
 knows, I don't, — an' ter let 'im sperriment all he 
 wants ter. Er man named Franklelin, he says, 
 would n't er nev'r diskivered Ermeriky 'ceptin' thet 
 he war er sperrimenter, an' ef Collumbus had n't er 
 sperrimented, folks would n't er known to this day 
 
 209 
 
210 ^ BOBN INVENTOR. 
 
 what chain lightnin' 's made outer. Let 'im sperri- 
 ment, says he, an' let 'im sperriment, says I, an' sper- 
 riment he do." 
 
 '' I Ve hearn tell as how Bill 's powerful handy 
 'bout the house with tools/^ said Cis'ly Toomer. 
 Dipping her althea mop in the tiny tin box of snuff 
 and restoring it to her mouth, she returned the box to 
 the pocket of her faded calico gown, that was inno- 
 cent of hoop, underskirt, or bustle, and drooped her 
 shoulders forward comfortably as she lifted her yel- 
 low, pinched face. " Sim says as how he made er 
 wooden leg fur Jedge Loomus' mule w'at ther rail- 
 road runned over." 
 
 Nanky Gunner laughed until her three hundred 
 pounds of avoirdupois quivered vigorously. 
 
 " Fact, Cis'ly. Jedge war erbout ter kUl ther crit- 
 ter w'en Bill walks up an' lif s his han', so. ^ Ef God 
 hed er wanted thet mule killed,' says he, ^ he 'd er let 
 ther train kill it dead.' With thet ther Jedge he 
 laughed. ^ Mebbe yer kin mek 'im er wooden leg,' 
 says 'e. ^I kin,' says Bill; an' right thar Jedge 
 'lowed he might have ther critter an' welcome. Well, 
 sho 'nough. Bill tended thet mule, an' while he war 
 er-tendin' uv 'im he war all time inwentin' er leg ; an' 
 bimeby he got ther critter propped up an' ther 
 thingermajig stropped on ter 'im. Well, I never seed 
 sech er sight en all my born days. Ef 't had n' be'n 
 fur sorryin' fur ther critter, I 'd er busted wide open. 
 
A BORN IXVENTOB. 211 
 
 Ther inwention had er rest fiir thet critter's stump^ 
 an' er crutch thet caught it somers unner ther 
 shoulder, an' ther strops run all over hit." 
 
 "Nanky Gunner, I mus' see thet mule 'fo' I git 
 back ter Putnum — " 
 
 " Lor' bless ye, chile, hit 's done dead too long ter 
 talk erbout." Nanky set her iron with a clang upon 
 its ring and began to sprinkle another cotton shirt. 
 "Ye see, Franklelin — thet's Vat BiU called 'im — 
 Franklelin war used ter wade ther crik down yonder 
 ter there parstyer j an' once ther crik riz powerful, 
 an' Franklelin he tried ter swim across like he used 
 ter 'f o' ther railroad runned over 'im, an' thet 's why 
 he's dead — 'cause somehow he couldn't work thet 
 ar peg leg edzactly right, an' they do say as how 'e 
 rolled over an' over, tell bimeby he war drowned an' 
 lef er-lyin' on 'is back ^ith nuthin' er-showin' but 
 thet ar peg leg er-p'intin' up at ther sky. Our 
 Bill war mighty sorryful, but 'e alius 'lowed ef 'e 
 hed er shod thet wooden foot hit would er be'n 
 diffunt." 
 
 One of those silences common to country conversa- 
 tions followed the description of poor Franklin's 
 death, and then Nanky Gunner's thoughts rose to the 
 surface. 
 
 " I would n't begin ter name ther things our Bill 
 have inwented. Ther yard an' house es mighty nigh 
 full uv 'em. Some uv 'em won't work, ter be sho, but 
 
212 ^ BOBN INVENTOR. 
 
 Bill alius knows w'at ails 'em, an' sets 'em l)y ter fix 
 up w'en 'e gits time. He 's er-inwentin' er spring- 
 bucket now thet '11 slide down hill an' fetch 'er full 
 an' back ther same time — " 
 
 " Es 'e inwentin' hit right now ? " Cis'ly Toomer's 
 voice was lifted in an impressive whisper. 
 
 " Eight now." 
 
 " Lor', how I 'u'd like ter see 'im er-doin' hit." 
 
 Nanky Gunner replaced her iron upon the hearth 
 and waddled out from behind her board. She 
 touched her guest upon the shoulder. ^^ Sh-h-h-h ! " 
 she whispered, and motioned her to follow. They 
 passed out across the doorless hall into the other 
 room, the boards groaning under Nanky's tiptoe gait, 
 until they reached the wall by the fireplace. There 
 Nanky placed her eye to a crack and peeped through 
 into a tiny shed-room adjoining, then made way for 
 Mrs. Toomer. A barefooted boy sat on a rough work- 
 bench, his elbows on his knees, his cheeks in his 
 hands. His face was freckled, his hair tousled, and 
 his trousers, cotton shirt, and one knit suspender 
 rather dilapidated. Before him was a framework of 
 strings, with two little boxes to represent buckets. 
 The framework extended from the workbench down 
 to the far corner of the room. The boy seemed to 
 be a carved statue, so still was he, and so fixed his 
 gaze. 
 
 " Ef ye hed er so much as sneezed," said Nanky 
 
He got ther critter propped up." 
 
A BORN INVENTOR. 213 
 
 Gunner to her companion when they reentered the 
 first room, ^' hit 'u'd er be'n gone. Bill war oncst 
 on ther p'int uv inwentin' er thing ter tie on ther 
 caK thet 'u'd keep 'im f om siickin' whilst I war er- 
 milkin' an' at ther same time keep ther flies off er ole 
 Brindle too, w'en en warks Tom an' spoilt hit all. 
 Bill war thet disappointed he liked ter cried, but 'e 
 tried ter patch up suthin' anyhow thet 'u'd workj 
 but bless yo' soul, 'e tied hit on ther calf an' the first 
 hunch 'e made at ole Brindle ther thing tickled her en 
 ther ribs an' she kicked me an' the bucket erway 
 yonder ! Sech er terdo ye never did see. Him, not 
 er-knowin' w'at en ther worl' war ailin- uv th' cow, 
 'u'd trot up ter suck, an' as soon as ther inwention 
 'u'd tech 'er en ther ribs, she 'd carry on redickelus, 
 er-runnin' an' jumpin' like ther hornets hed 'er. I 
 like ter laugh myse'f ter death w'en I got my win' 
 f om th' lick she gin me." 
 
 " Es Tom er inwenter too ? " 
 
 " Tom *? Lor', no ! Tom an' Bill es twins, but ye 
 would n't know they war blood kin. Tom runs ter 
 huntin' an' ther likes, but 'e 'lows Bill 's got more 
 sense en er day than ther w'ole Hepzibah settlemunt 
 got en er ye'r. Hyah comes Pa." 
 
 The conversation was interrupted by the entrance 
 of a barefooted man who, walking with the aid of a 
 staff, slowly made his way into the room. He was 
 old and feeble. His bent form was haK clad in rough 
 
214 -^ BOBN INVENTOR. 
 
 homespun, and lie wore no coat. He paid no 
 attention to either woman, but pulled a chair into 
 the hallway and sat down to chew his quid of 
 tobacco. 
 
 " Pa es sorter wand'rin' en 'is min','' said Nanky, 
 simply, "an' 'e can't hyah ther bes' en ther worl', 
 nuther. Bill says es how some these days he 's goin^ 
 ter inwent er thing that er man kin hyah with ef 'e 
 ain' even got er ye'r on 'is head." Nanky set her iron 
 aside and walked to the window. 
 
 " Cis'ly Toomer," she said, " did ye ever en all yo 
 horned life hyah th' win' blow like thet!'^ 
 
 " Oncst," said her visitor, joining her and scanning 
 the heavens anxiously ; " an' I hope ter God I '11 never 
 see sech another day. Hit war over en Putnum, 
 time uv ther cycleone — " She stopped short. Beyond 
 the little valley below them stretched a plain two 
 miles wide, dotted here and there with negro cabins. 
 After freedom the slaves, when permitted, rebuilt 
 their cabins near the particular pieces of land they 
 cultivated; and so it was with the great plantation 
 before them. What broke Cis'ly Toomer's sentence 
 was a fearful cloud that swept out of the woods in 
 the distance and seemed to write upon the plain with 
 its long flexible finger. As it passed along it gathered 
 up trees, fences, cabins, cattle, and dust into one vast 
 mass and strewed them over its track. A sudden 
 darkness fell upon the two awe-stricken women — a 
 
A BOBN INVENTOR. 215 
 
 darkness riven by incessant flashes of lightning that 
 darted through the center of the storm from all quar- 
 ters. There was no thunder, for the roar of the 
 tempest, as it rolled, was like Niagara in its fall, 
 drowning all other sounds. The wind about the cabin 
 increased to a hurricane ; but the cyclone had passed. 
 When this fact became apparent, with blanched faces 
 they made their way to the hall. Grasping his chair 
 with both hands, his eyes riveted upon the ravished 
 plain, his chin still trembling, sat the old man. 
 
216 J. BORN INVENTOR. 
 
 II. 
 
 After some days Bill resumed work upon his 
 spring-bucket idea. He finally succeeded in getting 
 the model to work by putting a rock in the down 
 bucket ) but, for obvious reasons, this was not satis- 
 factory. Then he planned a plank-way from the 
 window forty yards down the hill to the spring, and 
 a car on wheels. At this stage in the evolution of the 
 idea he was interrupted by something new, which 
 consigned the self-acting, labor-sa\dng, traveling-buck- 
 ets to the companionship of his other unfinished 
 contrivances. The cyclone had caused intense excite- 
 ment. The destniction to life and property and the 
 hair-breadth escapes were absorbing topics, and the 
 reports of other cyclones, gathered from newspapers, 
 were eagerly discussed and magnified. People began 
 to think of cyclone retreats as refuges in stormy 
 times. One day Tom offered to bet the seed cotton in 
 his patch that BiU could fix up something that would 
 puzzle any cyclone in the world ; and thus the train 
 was fired in the brain of the family genius. Some- 
 thing was needed that could be reached quickly with- 
 out exposure to the elements. In the recent storm a 
 
A BOEN INVENTOR. 217 
 
 negro had taken refuge in a cellar; but the house had 
 fallen in and taken fire, and the negro had lost his 
 life. So the refuge must be apart from the house to 
 insure complete safety. Thus Bill in the solitude of 
 his workshop reasoned. 
 
 The rough plan of his water-railroad caught his 
 eye, and an old dairy near the bottom of the hill 
 flashed into his recoDection. Then the true plan was 
 perfected in his mind. 
 
 The Gunner dwelling was upon the site of one of 
 the great ante-bellum homes that disappeared when 
 Sherman marched through Georgia, and the spacious 
 dairy dug out of the hillside and fronting upon the 
 little ravine that ran down to the spring was a monu- 
 ment to the old family which had dwelt there. Bill's 
 idea was a covered passage leading from a window 
 down the hiU and by a sharp curve into the dairy. 
 Burning with the fever of the scheme, he communi- 
 cated his plans to Tom and secured at once a power- 
 ful ally. The two boys picked cotton at forty cents per 
 hundred for a neighboring planter and secured money 
 enough to buy the necessary lumber, and Bill went 
 to work upon the structure. The diameter of the 
 shute was determined by measuring Nanky Gunner's 
 chair-seat, and a week's hard work completed the 
 structure. It was three feet wide and three high, 
 inside measurement. The upper end rested in the 
 window and the lower entered the old subterranean 
 
 15 
 
218 ^ BOBN INVENTOR. 
 
 dairy, the rest of the opening there being closed with 
 stout boards and dirt. For a long time Bill debated 
 upon a traveling railway to run down the passage he 
 had constructed, but the idea involved new difficul- 
 ties, such as pulleys, wheels, and ropes, and conse- 
 quently a considerable outlay of money — something 
 not obtainable, for the boys had bankrupted their 
 resources in the purchasing of lumber. Besides, the 
 fever of the idea was hot upon them. At this junc- 
 ture Tom offered a suggestion. It was the nearest 
 approach to an invention he had ever made. 
 
 " BiU,'' said he in his hearty way, *' folk as es gittin' 
 erway f om er cycleone ain't expected ter move erbout 
 in style like they were er-gwine ter er quiltin'. All 
 they wants ter do es ter git up an' git teU the things 
 blows over. Now hit do seem ter me thet ther way 
 ter fix thet ar thing es ter grease them bottom planks 
 thar, an' w'en ther time comes ter be er-movin' jes 
 git en an' scoot down ter ther bottom. Hit ain't 
 gwine ter be much used, an' I reckon we kin stan' 
 hit." 
 
 Bill surveyed him admiringly. " Tom," said he, 
 "er inwenter hisse'f cain't beat ye on thet." 
 
 And so it was. One day when they had the 
 premises clear they removed the top planks and 
 greased the floorway to the bottom of the hill, until 
 a squirrel would have found it difficult to navigate 
 it. Then they restored the planks, and waited. But 
 
A BORN INVENTOR. 219 
 
 no cyclone came. Nanky Gunner surveyed the 
 structure many a day curiously, but she asked no 
 questions. To a neighbor she said once, " I cain't say 
 thet I see edzactly as how ther thing es gwine ter 
 work J but Bill es er inwenter an' he knows. He says 
 thar ain't no use en gittin' skeered uv cycleones an' 
 ther like." It is probably not true that the boys 
 prayed for a storm, but every wind raised hopes in 
 their bosoms, and not a cloud passed but brought 
 suggestions. 
 
 '^ Bill," said Tom one night as they lay awake, " I 
 reckon hit 's all right, but 'pears ter me we hed n't 
 oughter take no chances j we oughter know." 
 
 Bill was silent, trying to catch the line of Tom's 
 thought. It was beneath the dignity of an inventor 
 to ask suggestions. 
 
 Tom continued: "Wen we war over ter Macon 
 las' ye'r 'ith ther cotton, ye ricolleck how they used 
 ter ring ther bells an' turn out ther thing ter put out 
 fires 'ith w'en ther war n't no fire ter put out ? Er 
 feller tole me they war er-practzin' ter know jes w'at 
 ter do ef er sho 'nough fire war ter come erlong. 
 Looks like we oughter practiz fer cycleones. Ye 
 know Grandpa es contrairy, an' Ma es pow'ful 
 hefty — " Bill was all excitement in an instant, and 
 sitting up. 
 
 "Tom," said he, "let's try hit ter-night." But 
 Tom's judgment was cooler. 
 
220 ^ BORN INVENTOR. 
 
 "Hit won^t do ter-night. Thar ain't no win', an' 
 Ma 'u'd never let us practiz on 'er lessen she war 
 pow'ful skeered. Wait tell er big win' comes." 
 
 Fortune favored the inventors. There came a 
 week of heavy rain and finally one night a terrific 
 wind. 
 
A BOEN INVENTOR. 221 
 
 m. 
 
 " Nankee-e-e-e-e, Nank Gunner-r-r-r ! " The tones 
 were feminine and rang out shrilly in the morning 
 quiet. 
 
 Mistress Gunner came to the door of the shed- 
 room, late the haunt of the born inventor. She had 
 been washing clothes, and her sleeves were rolled up, 
 exhibiting short, fat, red arms. 
 
 "Howdy, Cis'ly Toomer, howdy. 'Light,'' she 
 answered back. Cis'ly Toomer guided her thin plow- 
 horse under a tree and slid to the ground. The 
 breeze was swaying some garments hanging on the 
 clothes-line that she had to stoop to avoid as she 
 approached. Nanky wiped her hand upon her apron 
 and welcomed her. 
 
 " Come in, come in," she said. " Hearn ye war 
 done gone back ter Putnum. Lemme wring out these 
 hyah shirts an' I 'U be done." She resumed her posi- 
 tion at the tub, and from time to time turned her 
 head as the conversation went on. Cis'ly looked 
 about her as she took her seat, and got out her snuff- 
 cup and mop. 
 
 " La, Nanky, w'at ye done 'ith Bill's things?" 
 
222 A BOBN INVENTOR. 
 
 " Bill/' said the woman at the tub, shaking her 
 fat sides a little, " ain't er-inwentin much these 
 days." 
 
 " How come ? " 
 
 " Well, Cis'ly Toomer, hit 's er long story. Hit aU 
 come uv ther cycleone erwhile back an' Bill tryin' ter 
 inwent suthin' ter beat hit." 
 
 " La sakes, an' would n't hit work?" 
 
 " Work ? " Nanky Gunner rested her hands on her 
 tub and looked around quickly. ^' I reckon ye never 
 seen nuthin' work like hit. Hit mighty nigh worked 
 me an' Pa ter death." 
 
 "Nanky, hush!" 
 
 " Fact. Hit 's piled up thar behin' ther house now, 
 but hit ain' nuthin' hke it war w'en hit war fixed up 
 an' ready fur cycleones." 
 
 She described the invention as it had existed, and 
 as she became conscious of the rapt attention of her 
 visitor, she exerted her full powers. 
 
 "Now," she continued, "hain't nobody on yarth 
 skeereder 'n me uv win'. One night atter hit hed b'en 
 er-rainin' fur er week an' ther win' war blowin' 
 pow'ful, I war settin' up an' Pa he war en bed 
 er-tryin' ter git ter sleep, w'en I hearn er boomin' en 
 ther a'r outside." She laughed at the recollection, 
 and as she wrung the last drop of moisture from a 
 shirt, faced her visitor. " Ever hyah one uv 'em thar 
 injines w'at bum coal 'stidder wood — boom-m-m ? " 
 
A BORN INVENTOR, 223 
 
 She imitated the sound as best she could. "Well, 
 they done got ter runnin^ 'em on ther railroad out 
 thar back uv ther house, an^ ther first one come 
 erlong thet night an' ther boom in' started 'bout ther 
 time hit got en ther big cut. I never war skeered as 
 bad since ther Lor' made me. I run 'cross ther room 
 an' jerked Pa up en bed. ' Git up, git up ! ' I hol- 
 lered. Jes then Bill an' Tom come er-runnin' en too, 
 yellin' out, ^ Cycleone, cycleone I ' loud as they could. 
 I war mighty ready ter drop. ^ Save Pa, save Pa ! ' 
 I hollered. Pa he half knowed w'at war gwine on, 
 an' he hollered, ^ Help, help ! ' an war gittin' out, w'en 
 ther boys got 'im back uv 'is shoulders an' unner 'is 
 legs an' run 'cross ther room an' shoved 'im foot fore- 
 most inter ther inwention. Pa he hollered, ' Heigh ! 
 ho ! Nank ! Tom ! ' an' war gone. I got thar jes en 
 time ter see 'is white head go roun' ther ben', an' then 
 I hearn er kerchunk an' Pa holler, ' Hoo-oo-oo-oo ! ' " 
 Nanky threw the wet garment down in a chair and 
 shook with laughter over the recollection. " I orter 
 hed mo' sense ; but la, w'en er woman git skeered bad 
 she ain' got no sense 't all. Ther injine then war 
 right back uv ther house, an' ev'ythin' war jes 
 trimblin'. Bill he yelled out, ^ Git en, Ma, git en j 
 hit 's er-comin' ! ' I did n't wait er minute, but clum 
 up en er cher an' got en. Ther boys gimme a shove, 
 an' down I went 'ith ther candle en my han' berhin' 
 an' me flat er back. I reckon I mighty nigh fill ther 
 
224 A BOBN INVENTOR. 
 
 Vole inwention, fur I war tecMn' ev'y whar. Skeered ? 
 The cycleone war n't nuthin'. Time I got ter ther 
 ben' I war full uv splinters, fur Pa lef some, an w'en 
 I slid roun' like er gourd over ther mill-dam an' hit 
 en two feet uv water down thar, I war screamin' ter 
 be hearn er mile. Tom an' Bill like ter not come, hit 
 skeered them so, but ther injine war then er mighty 
 nigh shakin' ther pans offen ther she'f, an' down they 
 come too, kerchunk en ther water. Ye see, they hed 
 stopped up ther ole daiiy 'ith planks an' dirt tell it 
 hel' water like er well, an' ther rain hed soaked down. 
 Ther place war dark as pitch, an' w'at 'ith me 
 er-screamin' an' Pa er-settin' over en ther corner 
 hollerin', 'Don't shoot, don't shoot!' hit like ter 
 skeered ther life outer Bill ; an' erbout thet time it 
 come ter 'im thet he had n' inwented no way ter git 
 outer ther thing. I war screamin', ' Git me outen 
 hyah, an' open ther do' ! ' an', ' Oh, Lordy, my back ! ' 
 till ther boy war mighty nigh crazy." 
 
 Cis'ly Toomer had been rolling around her chair 
 convulsed with laughter. '^ Nank, how en ther worl' 
 did ye git out ? " she gasped. 
 
 " Tom clum back up ther spout atter mighty hard 
 work an' took er ax an' busted ther dairy open. Me 
 an' him pulled Pa out an' put 'im en bed. Yer never 
 seed sech er sight en yo' life like Pa's back. We pick 
 splinters outer hit tell broad day, an' all time 'im er- 
 hollerin', * Don't shoot, don't shoot ! ' Pa's back hed 
 
A BORN INVENTOR. 225 
 
 er heap er little white scars on hit, an' I reckoUeck 
 hearin^ teU as how somebody caught 'im en er water- 
 melon patch w'en he war er boy an' filled 'im fuU uv 
 shot jes as he war crossin' ther fence. I reckon ther 
 splinters sorter brought hit all back ter 'im. He's 
 mighty wand'rin' en 'is min' nowadays." She took 
 an armful of clothes and went out to the line, where 
 she continued, elevating her voice : " Me an' Bill hed 
 it out en ther shed-room thar, an' w'en I got done 
 'ith 'im I kicked all ther inwentions ter pieces. ^ No 
 more inwentin' en this house,' says I ; ^ hit 's as much 
 as my life es wuth.' An' I put 'im ter work nex' day. 
 See them two boys over yonner en the cotton by the 
 p'int uv woods?" Cis'ly stood up and shaded her 
 eyes in the direction indicated by Nanky's extended 
 hand- " One uv them es ther * horned inwenter ' " j 
 and Nanky laughed lightly. " But hit ain' gwine ter 
 do no good, not er bit. Hit 's still er-workin' en 'im, 
 an' Tom let out yestiddy thet Bill done inwented er 
 thing thet '11 pick mo' cotton en er day than ten nig- 
 gers. I reckon time ther cotton es all en I '11 hev ter 
 move them tubs out ther shed-room ergin. Boys got 
 ter hev ther day, yer know, an' Bill es ther baby." 
 
TOM'S STRATEGY. 
 
 ^H A' yer gwine do wi' dat gun ? ^ 
 It was Tempy Taylor who pro- 
 pounded the question, and she 
 did it in a tone of voice that 
 would have attracted anybody's 
 attention. She was a tall, heavy, masculine woman 
 of some two hundred odd pounds, and as she straight- 
 ened up over the washtub under the chinaberry tree 
 at the end of her cabin, she was indeed a formidable 
 looking figure. Her great black, muscular arms 
 drooped towards the scrubbing-board that reclined 
 in the tub, and her hands grasped a wet garment 
 upon which she had been expending some of her 
 prodigious strength. The person addressed was a 
 small old man whose face was pretty well covered 
 with a gray, kinky beard. He nervously shifted 
 the weapon he bore, an ancient muzzle-loading fowl- 
 
TOM'S STRATEGY. 227 
 
 ing-piece with a wire-wrapped stock and reed ram- 
 rod, and affected an easy conciliator^^ manner. 
 
 " Des gwine down yander on de crik. Ole buck 
 rabbit down dere ev^y day ^bont dis time. 'Spec' he 
 oughter be en de pan time Mammy Jo' git heah en 
 de morndin'." The voice was drawling and childlike 
 in its modulations. He struck the right chord and 
 very skillfully. Mammy Jo' was the mother of the 
 Amazon at the tub, and had sent word of her 
 intended visit. The little old man moved off slowly 
 with a peculiar shuffling motion. " Dat 'possum 
 mighty fine back yander/' he ventured, with a motion 
 of his head towards the cabin, " but 't ain't gwine ter 
 las' all day." As he passed on his ear waited for a 
 harsh summons, but heard only the mutterings of 
 his spouse when she plunged a little more vigorously 
 into her work. The little strip of pine woods 
 towards which his face was turned seemed to 
 approach at a snail's pace only, but he was afraid 
 to change the gait he had chosen. As he stepped 
 at last into the friendly cover of the trees he stole 
 a backward glance over his shoulder, and then 
 abruptly quickened his motions. At the same 
 instant his whole manner changed, and when pres- 
 ently he heard his name echo through the wood, 
 borne upon the imperative tones of a pair of pro- 
 digious female lungs, he laughed aloud and held on 
 his way. The woman at the tub talked to herself. 
 
228 TOM'S STRATEGY. 
 
 ^' Mighty takin^ on 'bout Mammy Jo^ all er sudden. 
 Mammy Jo' ! Mammy Jo' ! Heap he kyar 'bout 
 Mammy Jo'/' she laughed scornfully. ^' Better be 
 out en dat patch pick'n' cott'n or en dem pease. Ef 
 hit wuz lef ter liimj dat steer go 'long ter town ter 
 be sold, 'stidder de cott'n-bag. I know him ; he can't 
 fool me. Gi' 'im time an' he go skipp'n' 'bout over 
 yonner at de Stillson place, de Ijin' little debbil." 
 She gave the shirt of her absent lord a vicious wring 
 as if she felt him in it, and lifted up her voice, obey- 
 ing a sudden impulse : 
 
 " Yon Torm ! ! ! " There was no reply except a few 
 echoes that mocked her. " He heah me," she con- 
 tinued, resuming her labors ; and then she resumed 
 too the thread of her revery. " ^ Morn din'. Sis' 'Lizerj 
 how yo' he'th ter-day, ma'am ? Morndin', Sis' Chloey; 
 I hope yer f eelin' berry well, ma'am.' " She imitated 
 the insinuating, childlike tones of her absent spouse 
 and repeated her scornful laugh. " Nex' time I heah 
 'bout 'im gwine over deir, I '11 bre'k ev'y bone en 'is 
 triflin' hide." 
 
 But Tom was thinking no longer of his industrious 
 and indignant spouse. He was rapidly moving along 
 the new line of departure from home and the haunts 
 of the buck rabbit in the creek bottom. He had a 
 shght limp, caused by a bale of cotton rolling against 
 his leg when he was young, and as he trotted along, 
 his funny little figure bobbing up and down caused 
 
I. \ 
 
TOM'S STBATEGY, 229 
 
 the powder-horn under his arm and the shot-gourd 
 to swing out and collide fiercely. 
 
 A" couple of miles glided away thus, when suddenly 
 out from under his feet a rabbit scurried a few yards 
 away, and pricking up his ears looked back at the 
 rude disturber of his afternoon ramble. Tom brought 
 the gun down across his knee, cocked it successfully, 
 the hammer going back haK a circle with three dis- 
 tinct clicks, rested it for a moment against a tree, 
 aimed long and carefully, and pulled the trigger. 
 There was a deafening explosion ; the little old man 
 staggered back six feet, the muzzle of his gun 
 dropped to the ground, and the rabbit sprung high 
 in the air, turned a somersault, and fell dead. Had 
 there been a witness present, he would have observed 
 that the ground about the unfortunate animal was 
 more or less torn up for a space of twenty feet 
 square. Tom rushed in and secured his prize, then 
 carefully reloaded his weapon and resumed his jour- 
 ney. He had not gone far before a rooster, leading 
 his family among the dead leaves of some scrub oaks, 
 straightened up and uttered an inquiring cackle. At 
 the same instant a hound near at hand gave vent to 
 a prolonged howl, and barking fiercely galloped out 
 towards the new-comer. Tom entered a small clear- 
 ing, where stood a log-cabin with a garden at the 
 rear, guarded from a couple of cadaverous-looking 
 .pigs and the chickens by a split-picket fence reen- 
 
230 TOM'S STRATEGY. 
 
 forced with brnsh. In the doorway sat a young 
 woman twisting her hair into the tight little rolls 
 which all of the kinky-headed race affect nider 
 the idea that straight hair will finally result there- 
 from. 
 
 ^' How yer do, Sis' Chayney ? How yo^' he'th ter- 
 day, ma'am?" Tom had reduced his gait, and his 
 voice rose and fell melodiously. The woman laughed, 
 showing a mouthful of dazzling teeth. 
 
 'Tm tolerable. Set down. How yer do, Unc' 
 Term?" 
 
 " Des so, so." He laid the rabbit on the single step 
 beside her feet and continued facetiously : 
 
 " 'Spec' dat rabbit knowed wha' I wuz gwine, an' 
 des git right en de way ter come erlong too." The 
 woman laughed again. She stole a look at Tom as 
 she sat up with both hands over her head, engaged 
 upon a final knot. 
 
 '' How 'e know ? " 
 
 Tom raised his eyebrows and scratched his ear. 
 
 " He knowed I warn' gwine home," he said slowly,- 
 and meeting the comic look on his face with one of 
 intelligence, she threw her head back and gave 
 expression to her mood again. She did not thank 
 him for the gift, but took it up as she rose and 
 turned it over. " Rabbit fat," she said, and laid it 
 on the water-bucket shelf, just inside. "How yer 
 lef Aunt Tempyr' 
 
TOM'S STRATEGY. 231 
 
 " She putty well/' said Tom, carelessly. He was 
 studying the toe of his foot visible through a rift in 
 his well-worn brogan. Again the laugh of the woman, 
 this time fj;om the inside of the house, reached him. 
 
 " Tempy gwine ter be heah en dis worP w'en you 
 an' me done gone," she called out. Tom passed his 
 hand over his face and looked as if the idea was 
 not a pleasant one. " Better bring yo' cher enside, 
 added the woman after a few moments, and he com- 
 plied. Then she began to busy herself straightening 
 things in the simple room, and as she worked the 
 conversation went on. 
 
 ^^ Unc' Josh Sims gwine ter preach ter-morrow," 
 she said. ^^ He come erlong heah des now an' he 'low 
 dat he wuz gwine ter turn all de niggers over 'bout 
 heah, 'count er dey debblement." 
 
 ^^ Dey es er-needin' hit," said Tom. " Ef I had er 
 seen 'im I 'd er got squar' wid some, sho' 's you born." 
 
 ^^ Oom-hoo ! An' I reck'n some seen 'im 'fo' now 
 an' ten' ter dat 'head er you. Maybe some done got 
 squar' wid ole man Torm." She was passing him as 
 she spoke, and gave him a sharp slap on the jaw. 
 
232 TOM'S STRATEGY. 
 
 II. 
 
 When Tom, warned by the sinking sun, set his 
 face homeward, he took a course that would carry 
 him in or about the creek bottom to which he had 
 ostensibly set out. His way led him by the log 
 church in which a neighborhood preacher or elder 
 held forth every Sunday, except when the famous 
 and eccentric Rev. Joshua Sims visited it, which was 
 three or four times a year. As he approached the 
 edifice, which stood in a pine thicket and boasted of a 
 bush-arbor awning in front, he heard the voice of a 
 preacher breaking loudly upon the afternoon calm. 
 Never before had Tom known of a church meeting on 
 Saturday afternoon. It was the time universally 
 claimed by the negroes for town shopping or loafing 
 He knew of no one recently dead ; and, besides, had 
 any one died that late in the week the body would 
 have been saved until Sunday. In open-mouthed 
 astonishment, therefore, Tom approached at the side. 
 Sure enough '^ preaching " was going on. His first 
 impulse was to enter ; but, stiU suspicious, he placed 
 his eye at a crevice and looked through. There was 
 only one person within the church, and that was the 
 
TOM'S STRATEGY. 233 
 
 Kev. Joshua Sims. Standing in the pulpit, he was 
 preaching to an imaginary audience the sermon evi- 
 dently prepared for the next day. Tom squatted 
 down on his haunches, and a broad, comprehensive 
 grin lighted his face as he realized the situation. 
 The speaker thundered over the book lying upon the 
 pulpit, slapping it vigorously from time to time, and 
 walking from side to side. Half of the Eev. Joshua 
 Sims's success lay in his figure, tempestuous delivery, 
 and thrilling tones, and he knew it. The sermon was 
 delivered in a shout, and wherever in a sentence the 
 speaker sought for a word he would prolong the pre- 
 ceding tone with "er-rer." Sometimes saliva from 
 his mouth flew over the pulpit into the vacant audi- 
 torium, as foam is tossed from a horse's mouth. 
 
 Tom had missed the text and indeed most of the 
 sermon, but this much reached him through the 
 crevice : 
 
 ^' Shake off yo' weights ! Shake 'em off ! Dey es 
 good ter put on er race-horse w'en dey es er-trainin' 
 'im; but w'en de time come ter race dey must be 
 shook off. Ef yer gwine ter run er race wid de deb- 
 ble shake off dem weights, an' go et fum de drop er 
 de hat. 
 
 " Shake off yo' weights ! Shake 'em off ! Sister, ef 
 hit 's fine clo'es, shake 'em off ! Shake 'em off ! Dey 
 ain' no fine clo'es in hebben ; de angels don't wear 
 nuthin' but de plaines' kine. Yer can't run no race 
 
 16 
 
234 TOM'S STRATEGY. 
 
 wid er long gown hangin' ter yer an' er bustle an' er 
 hoop er-floppin' roun'. Yer can't run no race wid 
 dem sacks an' higli hats an' fedders ter ketch de win', 
 an' dem high-heel shoes er-ketchin' en de grass. 
 Shake 'em off ! Shake off yo' weights 1 
 
 " Shake off yo' weights ! Shake 'em off, brudders ! 
 Yer can't run er race wid de debble an' yer full er 
 whisky. Er wise man 'ill take er gourd er spring 
 water at de start an' go barefooted, like Moses roun' 
 de bush, an' trus' de Lord, when 'e want mo', ter 
 run er branch 'cross de road, like 'e does fur de mule 
 gwine ter town. Shake off de weights ; shake 'em 
 off! 
 
 " Shake off yo' weights ! How does po' sinner run ? 
 He runs wid de weights on, an' debble keep right 
 'long at 'is heels, so close sinner heah him laugh. 
 Dey trabble 'long tergedder, an' bimeby, 'f o' dey gits 
 ter de las' mile-pos', debble trip up po' sinner an' win 
 de race. Shake off yo' weights ! Oh, shake 'em off ! 
 
 "How do de righteous run? He strips off de 
 weights an' cuts out. Mos' 'fo' yer know 'e gwine 
 run, 'e done gone; an' debble come erlong an' find 
 trail so cole 'e don't know wha' good man gone, an' 
 'e win de race. Shake off yo' weights ! yer all got 
 weights, an' I 'm gwine teU yer 'bout 'em. Deir 's 
 sump'n enside abeady tell yer, but I 'm gwine ter 
 tell out loud so ev'ybody know yer been tole." He 
 descended from the pulpit and marched up to the 
 
TOM'S STRATEGY. 235 
 
 amen comer, still talking. " Here 's Bre'r Dan ! 
 Here 's Bre'r Dan ! Bre'r Dan got weights, an' 'e 
 ain' shake 'em off. What es dem weights's name? 
 Too much corn en 'is crib fnr de size er 'is crop ! 
 Too much cott'n en 'is crib fur de size er 'is patch ! 
 Too many chickens en de pan fur two hens an' er 
 rooster! Too many shotes erbout Chrismus fur er 
 no-sow man. Shake off yo' weights, Bre'r Dan; 
 shake 'em off ! Oh, w'at es sech er sinner like ? He 
 like er one-legged grasshopper, w'a' think 'e es er- 
 jumpin' somewhar, w'en ev'ybody know 'e jes tu'nnin' 
 roun' en de road, p'intin' er new way ev'y time." 
 
 Tom rolled over on the ground outside and kicked 
 his heels in the air, convulsed with laughter. " Some- 
 body done got squar' wid Unc' Dan," he gasped. Then 
 he quickly rose up and glued his eye to the crack 
 again. The preacher was standing with uplifted 
 hands over another imaginary sinner. 
 
 " An' heah ole Black Aleck ! Bre'r Aleck got 
 weights. No chutch on Sunday fur Aleck. Mus' 
 fish tro'tline an' hunt squ'r'l. Mus' hoe de gyardin an' 
 hunt guinea-nes' en de jimsun weeds. Mus' do any- 
 thin' but heah de Lord's word, 'cept'n' ole Unc' Josh 
 come ter preach. Dem de weights Bre'r Aleck got. 
 Shake 'em off, er-rer! Shake 'em off! Oh, w'at es 
 sech er sinner like ? He like er las'-ye'r wasp 'en er 
 spider web — holler an' dry, an' 'is wings won't flop 
 no mo'. 
 
236 TOM'S STRATEGY. 
 
 " An^ heah es Bre'r Clay. Heah es my dear Bre^r 
 Clay. Bre'r Clay got weights. Wat kind er weights 
 'e tryin' ter run wid? Lazy weights. Won't work 
 cott'n-patch, won't work tater-patch, won't work col- 
 lurd-pateh, won't work nowhar. O Lord ! did any- 
 body ever see er lazy man win er race ? 'T ain't gwine 
 ter he'p yer, Bre'r Clay, ter put on dem good clo'es 
 heah an' say ^ Amen/ an' ' Bless de King,' an' ' He'p, 
 Lord ! ' loud 'n anybody ef yer lef de ole 'ooman an' 
 de chillun ter work all de week. Shake off de weights, 
 Bre'r Clay. Shake 'em off ! Oh, w'at es sech er sin- 
 ner like ? He like er tadpole en er mud-puddl', w'at 
 done dry up 'f o' time come fur 'im ter drop 'is tail an 
 be er frog." 
 
 Tom went over on the ground while Black Aleck 
 was being dealt with, and he was too weak with 
 laughter to sit up during the time devoted to Clay. 
 Presently he heard : 
 
 "An' heah Sis' TiUy. Heah es dear Sis' Tilly. 
 W'at es Sis' Tilly's weights'? She got weights ter 
 shake off. She run roun' tellin' tales on oth'r 'oomen's 
 husbun's " 
 
 " Ooom-hoo ! " 
 
 Tom cocked his head up as he uttered this assent- 
 ing exclamation and listened. 
 
 "An' she scole " 
 
 "Bat's right!" 
 
 " An' mek troubl' ev'ywhar she go." 
 
TOM'S STEATEGY. 237 
 
 " Somebody done got squar^ wid Aun' Tilly ! " Tom 
 ducked his head down and rolled over again. 
 
 ^^ Shake 'em off, deah sister ! Shake 'em off ! Oh, 
 w'at es sech er sinner like ? She like er cockleburr 
 en de tail uv er dry cowhide an' gone ter markit ; no 
 good heah an' no good deir. 
 
 "An' heah Bre'r Torm." The preacher was right 
 over the crevice, and his voice sounded like thunder 
 in the ears of the startled eavesdropper outside. 
 " Little Bre'r Torm. He tryin' ter run wid big 
 weights. Wat es Bre'r Torm's weights? He heah 
 ter se dis 'ooman, an' yonder ter see dat 'ooman ; f us' 
 one way an' den ernudder, an' er wife down yonner 
 home t'ink 'e gone huntin' ev'y time 'e take 'is gun." 
 A horrible groan broke from the lips of the trembling 
 man without, and a cold sweat started forth all over 
 him. In a frenzy of terror he raised himself to his 
 knees and brought the old gun to full cock. Then 
 realizing what he was doing he returned the hammer 
 to a safer place with feverish anxiety. The Rev. 
 Joshua Sims heard nothing but his own voice. 
 "Shake 'em off, Bre'r Torm! Shake 'em off! Yer 
 can't run no race wid dem weights er-hangin' on yer. 
 Oh, w'at es sech er sinner like ? He like er snake en 
 de grass, an' fus' t'ing 'e know 'e gwine ter Ian' en de 
 fire wid 'is back broke." 
 
 Tom's hilarity was all gone. If that sermon was 
 preached on the morrow he might not literally land in 
 
238 TOM'S STRATEGY. 
 
 tlie fire with his back broke, but his back would suffer 
 until the sensations would make it appear so. He 
 left almost as suddenly as his mirth. Gliding into 
 the woods he made his way to the bend in the road, 
 then, as if struck with a new idea, stopped short and 
 took a seat on a stump. In an attitude of profound 
 reflection he waited until, having finished his sermon, 
 the preacher came down the road with great dignity. 
 When he reached the vicinity of the little man the 
 latter started suddenly, looked over his shoulder, and 
 an affable and delighted expression dawned upon his 
 face. 
 
 " How do yer do, Bre'r Sims ? Lord, I wuz des er- 
 sayin' how I 'u'd like ter see Bre'r Sims, an' heah 'e 
 come er-walkin' right erlong.^' By this time he was 
 up and shaking the new-comer's hand. " Wha' yer 
 gwine dis time er day ? " The Rev. Joshua returned 
 the greeting, but with less demonstration. 
 
 " Well, I wuz er-gwine down ter Sis' Thomson's." 
 *' Wha' dat ! -' Tom threw up both hands in well- 
 affected astonishment. '' Man, night ketch yer 'fo' 
 yer git half way deir ! No, sah ; yer come erlong T\dd 
 me. Tempy 'U be proud ter see Bre'r Sims, an' I 
 'spect by now dat 'possum w'at wuz er-cookin' 'while 
 back done got done." Tom laughed, and slapped his 
 companion on the back. The Rev. Joshua Sims was 
 a large, heavy man, with a round, full jaw and a well- 
 fed look. It really mattered little to him where he 
 
TOM'S STRATEGY. 239 
 
 spent the night, and the 'possum decided the point. 
 He suffered himself to be led off. Tom, having got- 
 ten himself well under way, continued gayly : 
 
 "I knowed dat 'possum up ter sump'n. Las' night 
 de rooster call me ter run deir quick. Bre'r 'Possum 
 wuz squattin' en de hen-hous' des like 'e been sont fur 
 an' come; an' heah 't is." Tom wagged his head 
 sagaciously. "• Oomp ! Ef I c'u'd des jump Bre'r 
 Rabbit now, 'spect he 'd he'p bre'kfus' mightily." 
 And he began to peer around with a great show of 
 eagerness. 
 
 " Did n't yer shoot erwhile back ? Heah somebody 
 over yonner 'bout Sis' Chayney's." 
 
 Tom shook his head. "'Spect dat wuz one dem 
 Gillus boys. Dey all time bangin' way over deir. 
 "When Tom shoot, sump'n gwine hang 'bout 'is clo'es." 
 He lifted the gun quickly and sighted it towards a 
 clump of bushes, then took it down. 
 
 " Dat mullein leaf down deir fool me. Look mighty 
 like er molly-cott'n." ^ But Brother Sims plodded 
 along behind the loquacious little man, his mind on 
 other things again. 
 
 iKabbit. 
 
240 TOM'S STRATEGY. 
 
 III. 
 
 Tempy received tlie pair graciously. She was a 
 devout church woman on Sundays. Like most negro 
 women, she had infinite respect for preachers; and 
 this respect in the case of the Rev. Joshua Sims was 
 mixed with something of fear, for his methods in the 
 pulpit were exceedingly pointed and personal, as has 
 perhaps been gathered, and ridicule has a disastrous 
 effect upon ignorant people. She vied with Tom in 
 attentions to the shepherd. One placed a chair near 
 the door ; the other brought a gourd of water. One 
 took his hat and Bible; the other got him a fan. 
 Presently there came a lull in their ministrations, for 
 the reason that there was nothing left to be done for 
 the guest. Then Tom plucked the sleeve of his life 
 partner at an opportune moment and glided out the 
 back door behind the chicken-house. Puzzled by 
 this demonstration, Tempy looked out after him. 
 Presently she saw his head thrust out and his 
 features working mysteriously. She took a pan in 
 her hand as if on some domestic mission and went 
 behind the chicken-house also. Tom straightened up 
 
TOM'S STRATEGY. 241 
 
 his little body and looked her fiill in the face. Her 
 mountain of flesh loomed above him, but his assump- 
 tion of a common danger had made him bold. 
 
 " Put dat 'possum on de table, Tempy,'' he said in 
 a tragic whisper. 
 
 "Wat I gwine ter put Mamma Jo's 'possum on 
 table fur ? " In her surprise and indignation she did 
 not trouble herself to subdue her voice. Tom grasped 
 her with both hands. 
 
 " Sh-h-h-h ! " he said. " Don't let 'im heah, Tempy " j 
 and his voice was just audible, while his features 
 shifted themselves as under the pressure of some 
 great emotion. " I wuz er-comin' 'long by de chutch 
 des now an' Bre'r Sims wuz en deir er-preachin' by 
 hisse'f, er-gittin' ready fur ter-morrer. He des gi' de 
 niggers de wuss raspin' y^ ever heah — Dan, an' Clay, 
 an' Aleck, an' Sis' Tilly—" A low chuckle escaped 
 from Tempy's lips. 
 
 " Need n' laugh ; he tech on you too." 
 
 " Wat 'e say 'bout me ? " 
 
 Tempy bristled up, but instantly looked around as 
 if afraid of being heard. 
 
 " Sh-h-h ! He gi' yer fits. Can't tell w'at 'e did say. 
 Somebody been tellin' lies 'bout yer, sho'. He am' 
 say nuthin' 'bout me, but 'e gi' yer de wuss sort er 
 name fur lyin' an' er-tarkin' 'roun' — " 
 
 " Be deir in one minute ! " Tom elevated his voice 
 as if he heard the Rev. Joshua Sims calling. " Put 
 
242 TOM'S STRATEGY. 
 
 dat 'possum on table, Tempy." Snatching up an arm- 
 ful of wood lie went in, tossed it down noisily on the 
 fireplace, and joined his guest in the broad passage- 
 way between the two rooms of the little home. 
 
 Half an hour later the three sat down to eat. 
 There was a scarcity of crockery, and there were 
 only two forks, and all had to drink water from a 
 single gourd that hung by the bucket j but this did 
 not lessen their enjoyment of the meal. There was 
 plenty of hot, "crackling'^ bread, great generous 
 pones that crumbled under the eager fingers of the 
 men ; and there was the Opossum warmed over, with 
 its lialo of baked sweet potatoes, and all as brown as 
 a partridge's back. The eyes of the Rev. Joshua 
 Sims danced at the sight of this dish; and when, 
 having quartered the animal, Tom gave him a ham, 
 and poured the rich brown gravy lavishly over all, a 
 happier man could not have been found. Between 
 his attacks upon the tempting dish he began to tell 
 of his adventure some weeks before at a baptizing. 
 He had undertaken to put Sis' Tilly Hunter under 
 the water, when she caught him around the legs and 
 over they both went. The elders pulled Tilly out 
 by the heels, and Tilly pulled him. Tom laughed 
 loudly and slapped himself on the legs, and ever 
 and anon he would lay down his knife and, over- 
 come with the recollection of the scene, repeat the 
 performance. 
 
TOM'S STRATEGY. 243 
 
 " Bre'r Sims," he exclaimed to Tempy between his 
 paroxysms, " es mighty hard ter beat." Tempy, too, 
 simulated a great laugh, but with poor success. 
 
 What raconteur is not moved by the success of his 
 stories? Stimulated by the unstinted applause, the 
 Rev. Joshua Sims was stirred to further endeavors. 
 
 "Bre'r Torm," he said, after a long pull at the 
 pitcher of persimmon beer that Tempy had remem- 
 bered to fetch, *^ sump'n happ'n las' ye'r en de drouth 
 dat beat dat. I wuz er-baptizin' Bre'r Dick Simins, 
 an' de crik wuz mighty low, lemme tell yer, 'cause hit 
 hadn' rain fur nigh outer eighty days; an'Bre'r Dick 
 said de worl' wuz er-gittin' ready to burn up, an' so 'e 
 wanter come inter de chutch. De water wuz dat low 
 we had ter dam up de crik, an' den we tuk Bre'r Dick 
 en, an' Bre'r Jerry Toler an' me try ter put 'im iinner. 
 Bre'r Dick wiiz er might' big man, an' de water did n' 
 'zactly git up over 'is stumick. Now yer know er 
 man got ter go clean unner 'fo' 'is sins wash erway, 
 an' Bre'r Jerry 'lowed dat ef 'is stumick staid out all 
 de sins gwine ter stick right deir — des like fleas 
 come up on er dog's head w'en lie go in de water. 
 Well, sah, w'en Bre'r Jerry see dat stickin' up deir, 'e 
 put bof ban's on hit an' bear down hard. Bre'r Dick 
 wuz hol'in' 'is bref deir, an' w'en ^e git Bre'r Jerry's 
 weight 'e blow water way up yonner an' say 
 ^ Poo-oo-oo ! ' an' 'is foots an' head pop out. Bre'r 
 Jerry put 'is foots back an' I shove 'is head unner j 
 
244 TOM'S STRATEGY, 
 
 den 'is stumick come out ergin. Den Bre'r Jerry 
 mash down, an' Bre'r Dick say ^ Pooh ! ' and pop up 
 'is head an' 'is foots des like 'e did fus' time. Some- 
 body on de bank yell out, ^ Tii'n him over/ an' we gi' 
 i'm er roll j but bless yo' soul, 'is back rose up like er 
 fiddle, an' by dis time Bre'r Dick wuz mighty nigh 
 full er water an' de dam done broke." 
 
 Tom was ducking his head about under the table 
 and screaming with laughter, and the Rev. Joshua 
 Sims stopped to join in. Tempy was waving back 
 and forth in her chair, clapping her hands every time 
 her head came down. Then Tom gasped for breath, 
 and clutched his guest by the shoulder, turning an 
 appealing glance upon him. 
 
 '' Hush, Bre'r Sims ; hush ! " 
 
 "Now, wuz Bre'r Dick baptize' 'cordin' ter de 
 doctrun, er wuz 'e not ? Some sez yes, an' some sez 
 no, 'cause deir nebber wuz er time w'en some er 'im 
 was n' showin' ; but Bre'r Dick say " 
 
 "Wat 'e say?" Tom gasped out the question. 
 
 " He cussed and say he ain' gwine ter try hit any 
 mo' ; an' dat settle hit wid me. Ef Bre'r Dick had er 
 had 'is sins wash' erway he 'u'd er been full er de 
 speret er righteousness an' not cussin' mad." 
 
 The last vestige of opossum, the last sop of 
 gravy, and the last swallow of persimmon beer had 
 disappeared down the throat of the distinguished 
 guest when the party went forth under the china 
 
TOM'S STRATEGY. 245 
 
 tree and found seats. The moonlight lay soft upon 
 the cotton-field — a silvered silence under which only 
 the crickets and a single mocking-bird tried to give a 
 concert. Tom brought out a corncob pipe for the 
 preacher and shaved him tobacco from a plug, and 
 Tempy brought a coal of fire in the hollow of her hand 
 from the kitchen. The itinerant held forth for an hour 
 upon many subjects, but never to a more attentive 
 and appreciative audience. When at last they lay 
 down to sleep, Tom's sides really ached, and a ready- 
 made smile clung to his face until far into the night. 
 Even after it vanished it returned dream-summoned 
 and occupied from time to time its old familiar 
 place. 
 
 Next day the personal rebuke of the preacher burst 
 like a thunder-storm upon his hearers. Dan was 
 crushed. Aleck let his head go down upon his hands. 
 Clay slipped out of the door, as soon as public atten- 
 tion was drawn from him, and went home. Tilly 
 crouched behind the bench and hid herself. Few of 
 all the adults there escaped the lash. But Tom leaned 
 back against the wall with his eyes half closed and 
 Tempy by his side. A peaceful smile was upon his 
 face — the same smile that went to bed with him the 
 night before. When Dan was scored he said softly, 
 " Come back ter de fold, Bre'r Dan ; come back." To 
 Aleck he murmui*ed dreamily, ^'Face de light! 
 Face de light!" And when Clay received punish- 
 
246 TOM'S STRATEGY. 
 
 ment, from tlie lips of the serene little fellow floated, 
 " Sinner, tu'n ; why will yer die ? — why will yer 
 die?" 
 
 When the Rev. Joshua Sims came in front of his 
 former host a close observer might have noticed that 
 the latter's half -shut eyes fell a little closer and his 
 thin sides swelled out with a prolonged breath ; bnt 
 as the preacher passed on, the eyelids slowly lifted 
 again, the sides sank gently, and something like the 
 restful sigh of a cow when she lies down floated out 
 from the haK-parted lips of the devout little man. 
 
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