FANNY HUNTER'S WESTERN ADVENTURES cJ L flDy J. EDWIN POTTER, In the Clerk's Office or tie District Court of the United States, for the EasUrfi .District of ^* PREFACE. THERE are scenes in every life's history which, if artis- tically portrayed, would not only excite the imagination or please the fancy, like some strange passing dream, but would teach an earnest beholder many a lesson of wisdom and truth, and give fresh vigor and strength to the humble aspirant after good, in his wearisome struggle with con- tending foes. Where is the heart that is not moved to sorrow as the eye falls upon the sad, sad picture of mental deformity and ignorance. Where is the hand that will not grasp more tightly the " sabre's-hilt" with which humanity battles with wrong, as the vision rests upon injustice and oppression ? But there are lights as well as shadows in every repre- sentation of historical interest ; and in no part of our national drama are they more closely blended or more strongly interwoven than in those two eventful years which cast a pall of gloom over a heretofore happy and prosper- ous people. There were also prophetic rays darting out from behind the clouds, through which the discerning eye might behold the rocks and quicksands that impede the progress of " great events." While the life of our great nation shall be prolonged, there will hang in the gallery of time a picture so full of political teachings that every beholder cannot fail to read in it a lesson of progress and reform. The writer of this little volume lived among them, noted their sudden changes, and has sketched as well as she could a few scenes from M18908 VI PREFACE. beneath the sunshine and the clouds ; and she doubts not there were many hearts that joined with hers in a fervent and earnest petition that God would save our beautiful country from a repetition of those fearful events which followed each other in such quick and rapid succession over the beautiful fields of Kanzas, sprinkling them with noble blood, and blotting the sunshine of prosperity from many an otherwise happy home. But, alas for the happiness of our great nation ! this prayer was not answered ; and to* day there are bitter, bleak winds howling through the wide-spreading branches of our much boasted " tree of liberty." But we will not forget, while listening to the requiem- notes which fill the air, that Kanzas felt the angry blast before us ; and it may be, in looking back over the track of this sweeping tornado, we may discern some method of impeding its progress. This book, kind reader, will not lead you through dark, gloomy shadows only. There is much to amuse and please ; as of course there must be when we take a peep into the social and domestic scenes of frontier life. Such commingling of characters, such diversity of sentiments, such clashing of interests and contention for "rights," each with his own peculiar idea respecting it, could not fail to fill up a glowing picture. This the Authoress has endeavored to do in her present sketch of the three years she spent in Kanzas. CONTENTS. CHAPTER I. rAcn SETTLING A CLAIM, ... 13 CHAPTER H. THE HOME OP THE BORDERER, . .11 CHAPTER IH. THE CONNECTICUT SCHOOLMARM, ... .22 CHAPTER IV. NEARER VIEW OP LIFE IN THE BORDER COUNTIES, . . 34 CHAPTER V. UPPER AND UNDER CRUST, .... . 49 CHAPTER VL THE CLAIM DISPUTED, ... ... 64 CHAPTER 711. PA01 MAUD AND AUNT A:EB:B, 71 CHAPTER VITL AUTUMN LEAVES, 86 CHAPTER IX. DISTRESS IN DOMESTIC LIFE, .... . 99 CHAPTER X. FTOMB FEOM KANZAS, .... ... 109 CHAPTER XL BORDERERS TO THE RESCUE, 120 CHAPTER XH. KANZAS' FIRST MARTYR, ... , , . 127 CHAPTER XIH. SUNDAY AT LA BELLE PRAIRIE, . . . . .135 CHAPTER XIV. AN INTERLUDE, CONTENTS. fat CHAPTER XV. PAGE CROSSING THE RUBICON, ... . 151 CHAPTER XVL MORE DISTRESS, ...... 158 CHAPTER XVII. CLOSER INTRODUCTION TO A KANZAS SETTLES, . 164 CHAPTER XVIII. DAVE TAKES POSSESSION, 180 CHAPTER XIX. CHRISTMAS, . . 187 CHAPTER XX. FOR AUNTY'S SAKE, . .204 CHAPTER XXI. POOR WHITE FOLKS, ..... 210 CHAPTER XXII. CITY LIFE, . > 230 I* CONTENTS. CHAPTER XXHI. PA6B THE PATRIARCHAL INSTITUTION IN KANZAS, . . . 240 CHAPTER XXIV. THE GERM OF DISASTER IN THE FAMILY, . . . 246 CHAPTER XXV. JEALOUSY, 255 CHAPTER XXVI. A SOUTH SIDE VIEW, * . .263 CHAPTER XXVII. MISUNDERSTANDINGS, ... . . 270 CHAPTER XXVIII. UP THE COUNTRY, 288 CHAPTER XXIX. THE GERM SPROUTS, 293 CHAPTER XXX. MARTHA SENT OVER THE BORDER, . . .... 303 CONTENTS. CHAPTER XXXI. FAGH JACK OATLETT'S SUNDAY E AMBLE, 319 CHAPTER ALLTOKANZAS, .... . . . 323 CHAPTER XXXm. THE SQUATTER'S KEVENGE, . . . . . . . 327 CHAPTER XXXIV. TOM WALTON PLAYS THE FOOL, 332 CHAPTER XXXV. TROUBLE ON THE CLAIM, 339 CHAPTER XXXVI. SIEGE OP LAWRENCE, . ...-,,, 347 CHAPTER XXXVH. THE ST. Lours PRISONERS, . 352 CHAPTER XXXVIIL PLIGHT TO THE FREE SOILERS, ... XU CONTKNTS. CHAPTER XXXIX. PAGB TROUBLE IN THE CAMP, 368 CHAPTER XL. OLD FRIENDS AND NEW, 373 CHAPTER XLL UNCLE PETER TAKES A PEEP AT LIFE IN THE BORDER COUNTIE^ 379 CHAPTER XLH. THE DARK RIVER, 392 CHAPTER XLIH. AUNT PHEBE'S GRATE, 402 CHAPTER XLIV. THE FINALE, . . .... 406 WESTERN BORDER LIFE. CHAPTER I. ........ SETTLING A CLAIM. ** Loofc here, Turner, ever since Atchinson telegraphed to the borders, I have had my eye on this piece of ground, three or four hundred acres of as pretty land as you '11 find in Kanzas, with that beautiful growth of timber yon- der ; hey, neighbor, do you hear ?" " Well, now, Squire Catlett, that 's just like you. You are always speaking fird," rejoined Turner, reining up his horse by his neighbor's side, and reconnoitering the ground with his eye ; " only a day or so before we started on this tour, I crossed the river to pick out my diggins, and sure as life I settled on this same identical spot. But it's no use now. The man that says first 'It's mine,' owns these new lands, and you are the chap this time. So just nail up your claim to yonder tree, and we '11 ride on and find one for Joe Turner." "Where on earth is that smart sprig of our young gentry, Tom Walton ? You, I say, do you hear ?" "What's wanted, Catlett?" " Hurry back here, can't you, and do a little writing for a fellow. My fingers are clumsy, and I never was much used to handle pen and ink. Can scrawl Jack Cat* 14 WESTERN BOBBER LIFE. lett at the end of a receipt so that it will go, but I did n't have much schooling any how. You see, Turner, I mean my brats shall know more than their father, so I have sent for a Yankee pumpkin, near by the leeks and garlics, to train 'em. If she 's as smart as they make out, there '11 be times there, I reckon. By the way, she 's coming about these days. Won't the young ones kick up a fuss, specially Maud ? Halloa, Tom, you 've come back, have you, on ( tii9t Arabian courser by which you manage to keep always ahead of us. Now down from your painted saddle, snci while Turrier holds the rein, help me write a claim and nail it to this tree." " Jimminy ! Tom, if that don't beat Turner. How like a French dancing-master you came off Bucephalus. With your ruffled shirt and tight pants and glittering gimcracks, blow me, Tom, if you ain't a sight for these new lands, such as they never saw before. Whoa ! what do you champ the bit so furiously for, Bucephalus ; did you know Turner had got hold of you ?" " Hold your tongue, Turner, don't you see Tom has got his little pocket ink-stand out, and gold pen, and the paper on his hat ; now what shall he write ? that 's the question." " Write ? why, This two hundred and forty acres is Jack Catlett's, of La Belle Prairie. That 's it; right to the pint, you know." " Don't quite like that, neighbor ; don't look official, you see. It oughter begin in law style. What is it, Tom ? Something about presents. Come, you stayed in St. Louis there a week with old Squire Stanton, the big- gest lawyer in Missouri. Of course, though, he kicked you out of doors for a lazy lummux, as you are.' 1 " Tom's got too many niggers for his good, Catlett He 's an all-tired shirk." SETTLING CLAIM. 15 " No lazier than the rest. Turner and Catlett don't do d whit more than is good for 'em. But just shut your head. I 've got the ticket drawn up in shape." " Read it, then." " Hold on, can't you ? Let me nail it to the tree, and you can all read it, for it 's writ in thunderin' big letters. It 's the thing, any how, and I shan't write no more. There, now, what do you think ?" Tom had nailed it to the tree, and there it stood, staring at them in large characters, thus : Kno al men bi these presents, that I, JACK -CATLETT, ESQ., OF LAR BEL PRAYRY. hav taen possesshion of this lot of Ian, of as mani akres as the lor purmitz, mezurin' from this tre as the south-east cornur, and in sixty days I shal send hither my son Dave with a lot of harty niggers. So kep ure distance. " Ha ! ha ! ha !" roared Catlett, " that 's it ! that 's it 1 Tom, you are a trump. Wonder who '11 see that first. No rascally abolitionist owns this land. It's Jack Cat- lett, Esq.'s. Not the worst man in the world, neither. Now if Kanzas will only grow like Illinois ! Whew ! would n't Tom Walton here have to haul in his horns as the richest dog on the prairie. Hang me, but don't I wish Chicago was growing here like 'taters in a hot- house !" " Look here, Catlett, you are talking treason. This allusion to the free States taints the air." "They work in Illinois," chimed in Tom, " and that 's what makes 'em rich. But I '11 be hanged if I had n't 16 WESTERN BOEDER LIFE. rather laze about and be little short on't, than tear round like a Yankee for a bit." " Now, Turner, did you accuse me, Jack Catlett, of treason. I say, and say it again, that the free States are a heap the best off, and I 'd like Chicago just here, but I 've got niggers, and I '11 stick to 'em." " Well, neighbor, now Tom's mounted, and the claim 's tip, I reckon we 'd better make tracks. We must clear twenty miles before dark, for I want to settle on my own claim mighty quick, or all the best will be taken up. We are a leetle ahead, though. Even old Marm Gamby hasn't stirred yet, as nigh as I can find out. She won't wait long, though, before she gets her paw on some of these acres." " That Gamby is a case, sure enough ; but how on earth will she work it ? She 's no boy to send over, and them great sir ammin' girls of hers ain't of much account in man- aging a farm," said Catlett, as they rode along. " Leave her alone for that," said Tom ; " she knows a thing or two. But, neighbors, I came off to have a tour through these new regions, and not to be botherin' over claims. Pooh ! I would n't snap my finger for all Kanzas." So saying, away flew the beau of La Belle Prairie, and his neighbors rode after at a more quiet pace. CHAPTER II. THE HOME OF THE BORPEKEB. " WHAT in the world keeps Dave so long at the office to-night ?" " Lor, Nan, what makes you bother yourself about Dave all the while ? You know he always stays till the last minute, if he gets chatting with the boys at the store." " Nanny is right," said Mrs. Catlett, laying down her pipe with a concerned air ; " it 's time the boy was at home. Martha, run out to the kitchen and see if big William has put out Massa David's horse ; he may have stopped at the quarters. Tilla, don't toat that child so nigh the fire you '11 both be in. O ! there he conies !" As she spoke, the subject of her anxiety made his ap- pearance, and after kicking over two or three stools and ruthlessly demolishing a cob-house the children had spent half the evening in building they only escaping destruc- tion by the most surprising agility in scrambling out of his reach he finally made his way to the fire, command- ing every body to get out of his way, for he was cold. u Any thing from the office, Dave ?" said his sister, as hs settled himself comfortably in the warmest corner. The young gentleman fumbled in his pockets and brought out a letter, which he handed to his mother. It was addressed in a delicate female hand to " Jack Catlett, Esq., La Belle Prairie, Co., Missouri." 18 WESTERN BORDER LIFE. " O, ma, let me read it," said Nanny, as Mrs. Catlett leisurely examined the envelope, " it always takes you so Jong." " Don't be in such a strain, Nan," said her sister ; " you aot like you never saw a letter before." " Well, it 's from the new teacher, I reckon, and I want to know when she 's comin', that 's all." "She sha'n't come at all," said one of the children from the corner ; " we don't want a teacher, anyhow." " Ma, just hear thoso young ones ; you'd better smack 'em for their impudence." But Mrs. Catlett was too intent upon her letter to at- tend to any thing else. " Well," she said at length, toss- ing it over to Nanny, " the new teacher will be here to- morrow, sure enough ; so now, children, there will be an end to your romping for one while, I reckon. Pear me, how glad I should be to get quit of your noise." "O, ma!" said little Cal, " we don't want to go into school. Why couldn't the old teacher stay at home in Connecticut V It just spoils all our fun." " Yes, indeed," echoed Maud ; " we can't go over the prairie after persimmons now, I suppose." "Nor down in the wood lot after grapes," said Joy ; "the Barker bovs will get them all. O dear, it 's too bad." " It 's too bad," cried all in chorus, while even the baby set up a sympathizing yell. " Now, children, hush ! every one of you," said Mrs. Catlett, angrily. " Don't let me hear another word. You ought to be ashamed of yourselves to make me so much trouble, and your father off in Kanzas. What do you think he would say if he heard you talk so after he had taken so much trouble to get you a teacher ? But, there ! nobody ever had such a troublesome set to manage. Tilia, quit rocking the cradle, and go to rubbing the sideboard THE HOME OP THE BORDEREK. It) directly. Maud, what in the world are you about ? That girl will burn us all up some day." The child's occupation was evident. Having rebuilt the cob house, she had conceived the idea of illuminating it by means of a bonfire, and providing herself with materials from a pile of chips and rubbish on the hearth, and making the letter of her future instructress serve as a torch, she had set fire to the whole, and was watching the conflagra- tion with looks of great satisfaction. One w r ould naturally expect that this discovery would occasion some excitement, but, with the exception of two or three loud calls for Mar- tha, a stout black girl who had fallen asleep across the door-sill, nobody troubled themselves about the matter. A few lazy strokes of the broom swept the 1 whole burning mass into the fire, leaving traces of its progress in the shape of long smutty lines; and the child, unreproved for her mischievousness, looked about for something else to do. " I 'm right glad for my part that she 's coming," said Nanny, resuming the conversation for a moment inter- rupted. " The young ones have run wild long enough. How will she get here, ma ; the stage leaves her at the store, you know?" " O, David will ride down for her, of course," said Mrs, Catlett. " No he won't," said that young gentleman in a surly tone. " He 's got something else to do. You can send big William down with the farm-wagon to toat up her and her traps. I am not going to spend my time in waitin' on her. She may as well learn first as last to go about by herself." " David Catlett, I 'm ashamed of you," said his mother; " when your father told you, just before he went away, to be polite to the new teacher. What an example you 20 WESTERN BORDER LIFE. set the children ! Of course you '11 go for her. Big Wil- liam can't be spared anyhow, we want all hands to-mor- row to strip tobacco. As if I had n't enough to pester me with the charge of this great place on my hands, but you must set up and show how mighty smart you are, Martha, bring me a shovel of coals and my pipe off th<, sideboard. You don't know half the trial you are to me> David." " No, ma, nor half the blessing, I reckon," said her hopeful son. " Come, Othoe," to a beautiful hound, crouching at his feet, " we '11 go to bed." "You too, children, all of you," said Mrs. Catlett. " Here you, Martha, drag out the trundle, and get thesa children off to bed. Viny, is there a good fire up stairs?" " Yes, Miss Car'line." " Come, then, girls, you had better be off; it 's after nine o'clock. I '11 just give out breakfast, and see to the house, and then go myself. Viny, you bring in a fresh log for the fire." A general scampering ensued, the doors were locked, the fires mended, and the house became at length quiet for the night. " Nan," said Maria, in a half whisper, as soon as the regular breathing of her neighbors betrayed their uncon- scious state, " how old do you reckon the new teacher is ?" " How should I know ? Why ? " Because Dave says all teachers from Connecticut are dried up old maids who can't get husbands, and so take to teaching for a living." " Nonsense, 'Ria, Dave was just joking you." *'I wonder if she will set her cap for the old bald- headed schoolmaster over the creek. Wouldn't it be ftinny if she should?" THE HOME OF T II E . B O K I) E E E R . 21 iC 'Ria, you must n't talk about such things. Children fiav'n't any business with nonsense of that sort." " Well, I just hope she won't wear a cap and spectacles, and a coat with a short body and scant skirt, like old Miss Barker over the prairie." "I don't care so much for that, 'Ria, but I do hope sho will know how to set up in company. I don't reckon she will though, for those folks from the back States are mighty green, they say." " O dear, I wish she was n't coining, Nan." 44 Hush ! there 's ma knocking for us to go to sleep.* CHAPTER III. THE CONNECTICUT SCHOOL-MARM. TIIE next day, notwithstanding his expressed determiiv ation to consign the new teacher to the care of a servant, Massa David was to be found in company with half a dozen loungers, watching from the porch of Belcher's store, for the arrival of the semi-weekly stage from the city. " Tne Store," a low, narrow, log-building, standing on the edge of the prairie, had for many years performed the duties of private residence, post-office, tavern, variety store, and general gathering-place for the whole neigh- borhood. Its proprietor was an old bachelor, Tom Bel- cher by name, who by his long residence here in the capacity of post-master, had given his own name to the establishment. Shuffling about in his loose roundabout and slippers, his shining bald head partially covered by a red silk handkerchief, he was to be found in a dozen dif- ferent places in as many minutes, carrying on in his own person the duties of post-master, clerk, host, and chief cook arid bottle-washer with wonderful expertness. A couple of negro servants, whose cabin stood a few rods from the house, constituted his entire household, but the jolly-tempered old bachelor was seldom without guests, his own good company, and excellent tobacco and whis- ky, furnishing irresistable attractions to all the loafers of T H CONNECTICUT SCHOOL-MARM. 23 the prairie. On mail days especially, a motley com- pany assembled to watch for the stage, and to while away an hour or two in talking over the news of the neighborhood, and to pick up such scraps of intelligence from the busy world beyond, as those who were fortunate enough to take a city newspaper felt disposed :o impart. In no very amiable mood was " Massa Dave," as he awaited the arrival of the stage on this particular after- noon. He had resisted manfully before ever he consented to escort the expected stranger to her new home, only yielding at last because, as he said, " the women made such an everlasting fuss about it," and resolving to per- form the task with as ill a grace as possible, and " let the woman see that she would get no palaver from him" a discovery that no lady could be long in making, judging from his unpromising appearance. As he stood sulkily in the doorway, his cap slouched over his eyes, and botk hands thrust in the pockets of an out-grown coat, he pre- sented any thing but a graceful figure. True, he possessed length of body and limb sufficient to constitute a full-grown man, but nature had not yet supplied him with a corre- sponding breadth and thickness, and whatever she might do for him in future, had left him at present a lank, un- gainly, overgrown boy. His temper was not improved by the laugh raised at his expense by the loungers at the store, who joked him unmercifully on his new character as a lady's man, and advised him to practice all his airs and graces, and astonish "the Connecticut school-marm." Dave chafed under it all like an enraged cur, inwardly cursing all women in general, and the new teacher in par- ticular. In this pleasant frame of mind he awaited the arrival of the stage, and when at length it drew up in front of the establishment, and the driver assisted a lady to alight, he might have been the most unconcerned per 24 WESTERN BORDER LIFE. son present, for all the notice he took of her arrival. A Blender, girlish figure, arrayed in a close-fitting traveling- dress, and a little straw hat with green ribbons, stood upon the platform, and throwing back her vail, gazed timidly round, as though expecting some one to ad-dress ler. "Now, then," whispered a flashy-dressed young fellow, standing at Dave's elbow. " Come, Dave, don't be bash- ful, speak to her, or I '11 do it myself. By George, she's worth it, any how." Thus admonished, Dave stepped forward, but never in his life had he felt so much at a loss for words. It had not occurred to him in what way he should address the stranger, or indeed that it would be necessary to address her at all, except to indicate to her in as few words as possible, that she was to be honored by his escort over the prairie. When, therefore, it flashed across him all at once, that he must make himself known to the young girl stand- ing there alone, and say something civil to her, he was quite at a loss how to proceed. Something must be said, however, and making a desperate effort, he dashed into the subject at once. " You are bound for Catlett's place, I reckon," he said, approaching her. " Yes," said the stranger, raising a pair of large browi? eyes to his face. " They were to meet me at the store, I think." " I 've come for you," said Dave, blushing to the roots of his hair. " How do you do ?" He stretched out his arm as straight as a pump-handle, and touched the little gloved hand she extended, as though it had been an egg that he was afraid of crushing, then letting it drop, stood awkwardly enough twirling his THE CONNECTICUT SCHOOL- MAKM. 25 " Have you waited long for me," said the young lady, breaking an ei ibarrassing pause. " Well, no ; a middling while, though," said Dave ; u yonder 's the horses, if you are ready. They '11 send for your traps after night." " Yes, I am quite ready ; let us go at once," said the lady, and her color rose as she met the curious glances of the loungers in the porch. Mounted on his good horse, on the open prairie, with a yard or two between himself and his companion, u Massa Dave" began to feel a little more at his ease, and was wondering what in the world had put him so out of sorts, when the stranger broke the silence by inquiring the di- rection they were to take. " The road yonder over the prairie leads us straight to the house," said Dave. "The pike goes on to Carters- viile, and the little horse-path to your left, takes you to Barker's Ferry. You 've rode before, I reckon." " Yes, I am fond of it, and you have given me a beau- tiful horse," she said, patting his neck with her gloved hand. Filly was Dave's favorite horse. " She is an easy-footed beast," he said, proudly, " and she 's a real staver to go there ain't her beat on the prairie." " Kind ?" inquired the lady. " Kind ? there ain't a better-natured beast in Missouri; and as knowin' as she is kind. She all but talks, I tell you." " I love a good horse," said the lady, enthusiastically. " You can have Filly while you stay here," said her companion. " We all ride our own horses on the prairie." Dave had forgotten what he had said that very morning about " Old Poke Neck" being just the horse for the 44 Connecticut school-marm." 26 WESTERN BOi. DER LIFE. u A liorse to myself," said the lady, " to ride over this wean of land. O how delightful ! I shall never tire of it, I am sure." Dave smiled at her earnestness, but as he glanced at her flushed face, animated by an expression of girlish delight, he inwardly pronounced her a mere child. "A pretty teacher she '11 make for our young ones," he thought. 44 They will run over her head in a week." The remainder of the ride was taken in silence, the young lady appearing to be engaged with her own thoughts, and Massa Dave finding it difficult to shake oft' his newly-acquired bashfulness. " Yonder's the house," he said at length, indicating its direction with his riding-stick. She looked eagerly in the direction he pointed. It was a substantial log-house, two stories in height, with an out- side chimney at each end, and a porch in front. The coat of whitewash it had received in the spring had nearly dis- appeared, but the porch in front, and a part of the house itself, was covered with a luxuriant vine, which even at this late season retained a portion of its freshness. There was a yard in front, with a common rail fence surround- ing it, and a large round log for a horse block just before the gate. A little behind stood a small log building, which it was easy to perceive by the various utensils in front, was the kitchen, and further to the right, its low chimney peeping out from among the branches of a large beech- tree, another, which Dave pointed out as the school-house. Still further on, and partially hidden by the yellow corn which was yet standing in the field, a dozen or more log- cabins stretched away in a row behind the house. There was ample time for these observations as they rode slowly up the lane, which bvanching off from the main road, led directly to the gate ; but the stranger soon THE CONNECTICUT SCHOv>L-MAKM. 2? found more engrossing objects of attention in the group who were awaiting her arrival in the porch. The whole family had assembled to receive her, while two or three black women with brooms and dish-towels in their hands, stood in the yard, and any number of little woolly heads were darting backward and forward, peeping at her from the corners of the house. A sallow-faced woman of forty, or thereabouts, dressed in a faded calico, and smelling strongly of snuff, stepped forward, and introducing herself as Mrs. Catlett, gave the new teacher a cordial shake of the hand, and welcomed her to her family. " My daughter Nanny," a tall girl of nineteen or twenty, came next in turn, and then the stran- ger shook hands with a group of children, whose names she could not remember, but whose rude staring and ruder whispers she found it impossible to forget. " Maud, shake hands with the lady, and say how dy* dear?" said Mrs. Catlett to a child with black eyes and long sandy hair, who was too busy examining the stranger from head to foot to return her salutation. " And Miss Hunter, we had better come into the parlor, I reckon you are tired after your ride." Conducting the stranger across a wide passage, dividing the house into two parts, Mrs. Catlett led the way to the parlor, a large room occupying nearly half of the lower floor. A fire had been kindled upon the hearth, though doors and windows were both open, and the cracks be- tween the logs admitted a free circulation of air. The room was scantily furnished, but the few articles it con- tained were of a motley character. A home-made carpet covered the floor, while before the fire, its soft colors con- trasting strangely with the coarse green and yellow stripes of the other, was stretched a rug of the finest Brussels. Wooden seated chairs, scanty in number and dilapidated 28 WESTERN BOHDER LIFE. in condition, were placed here and there about the nx in, while in the corner stood a rosewood piano of elaborate workmanship, and upon an old-fashioned sideboard there was quite a display of silver plate. A canister of shot and a few wax flowers under a glass case, stood upon a small pine table, against which leaned a gun, while a pair of stag's antlers ornamented the doorway. " So this is one of my pupils," said the new teacher, turning with a smile to one of the children, who was slyly fingering her dress to find out its material ; " I hope we shall be good friends directly. Do you like to go to school, dear ?" " No, indeed," was the prompt reply. "I'd a heap rather be down to the stable, or off on the prairie all day. Quit winkin' at me, ma. The teacher asked me herself, and I said I would tell her if she did." " Maud, I 'm ashamed of you," said Mrs. Catlett, some- thing like a blush rising to her sallow cheek; "go right up stairs this minute, and stay there till you can behave yourself. She 's the worst child I 've got, Miss Hunter," she continued, as Maud left the room with a careless, un- concerned air, " but you '11 find 'em all hard enough to manage." This was not encouraging, and the stranger's face lost its bright expression, as she glanced at her future charge, who were amusing themselves in one corner of the room. She felt wearied with her journey, and longed to be alone, but just as she had found courage to ask to be shown to her room, a shout from one of the children announced that Martha was bringing in supper, and a moment after the tell rang. The appearance of the room in which the family usually rasided, and where the evening meal was spread, did not serve to raise spirits which had been rapidly sinking for THE CONNECTICUT S C H O O L-M A. B M. 29 the last hour. It was low and dark, scantily, even meanly furnished, the walls without paint or plaster, but hung round with hanks of yarn, red peppers, articles of cloth- ing, and strings of dried apples. A bed in the corner, and the long table in the center of the apartment, filled it up so completely, that there was scarcely room to move about ; and it was only after a confused scrambling and quarreling among the children that all at length found seats at the table. " Viny, lead Madam Hester to her place," said Mrs. Catlett, after the tumult had subsided. The girl approached an old woman who was seated iu the chimney corner, wrapped up in a large cloak, and en- deavored by touching her arm to attract her attention. u Come, Madam Hester," said Mrs. Catlett, " supper is ready." The old woman looked up, displaying a yellow, wrinkled visage, with thin, sharp features, and a pair of bleared eyes. " Two silver tea-caddys and three dozen spoons," she said, in a cracked voice, " in the corner cupboard in the keepin' room." " Yes, yes," said Mrs. Catlett ; " no matter about it now don't notice her, Miss Hunter; her mind just runs on the past the whole while." With the assistance of Viny, the old woman hobbled to the table, and grasping her knife and fork with her trem- bling hands, every thing else seemed forgotten in the food before her. The table was bountifully spread with a variety of good things, while black Martha was kept running to and from the kitchen for fresh supplies. A side ^f cold bacon, the "staff of life" with all westerners, loaves, of delicious-look- ing batter bread, fresh from the dut/h-oven, hot coflfea 80 WESTERN BORDER LIFE. and biscuit, with a huge pitcher of buttermilk, these com- prised the entertainment, a saucer of preserves being passed round at the close, from which all helped them- selves with a teaspoon. The new teacher was too anxious and weary to feel much appetite, and soon after supper requested permis- sion to retire to her own room. " Viny, show Miss Hunter up stairs," said Mrs. Catlett ; and following the girl up an open, uncarpeted staircase, leading from the apartment where they sat to one of the same size above, she discovered to her dismay that it waa designed for more than one occupant. It contained three beds, a bench with its bucket of water, tin wash-basin and gourd shell, a small table, a broken looking-glass, f v and Mr. Catlett will have to be over there the balance of the time, keepin' things straight. Besides, they say there 's awful times just now with the new settlers, and Dave is so hot-headed, he '11 be getting into trouble the first thing, and get his head broke of course. O dear ! I do nothing but fret about that boy the whole time." " The more fool you. The boy 's well enough. He won't be half a man till he shoots down two or three of them sneakin' abolitionists over there. I should want him to fight 'em if I was you. And can't you see what a chance there is for a young fellow, with a snug bit of land and a few niggers. Why, neighbor, if my two daughters was sons and gracious knows I wish they had been I 'd send them both over there as straight as a gun I would so." " Why how come you to know so much about it, any- how ?" " How ? Have n't I been to take a look myself. Did 62 WESTERX BORDER LIFE. you reckon I was goin' to wait till Squire Catlett, and Toe Turner, and all the smart chaps round here, had picked out the best claims. No, no, I wanted a dab at it myself, so o3*I starts two months ago, and I and old White makes a tour round the diggins. Ha ! ha ! Some of them wide- awake chaps may find Marm Gamby's name pinned to the post before 'em, if she is a woman. Forehanded, neigh- bor Catlett, that's my way, you see." " You don't mean to say you 've picked out a claim there a-ready, Madam Gamby ? What on earth do you mean to do with it ?" " Do with it ?" said Madam Gamby, her hard eyes open to their widest extent. " Well, if that ain't a ques- tion. Why, work it, to be sure." " As if you had n't enough on your hands a'ready. A widow woman like you, with a great farm to manage here. Why, what will become of your place, and your tribe of niggers in Missouri, if you start another over the border. Madam Gamby, you are crazy." The person addressed pushed back her chair from the fire, and crossing one limb over the other, looked up with a cunning twinkle in her gray eyes. " You wait awhile, neighbor," she said. " Did you ever know me start a thing and not put it through? Come, own up, now." " O, I know you are powerful smart ; but I can't see yet how you mean to manage. I don't trouble my head much about law matters, but I 've heard say you can't own a claim over there, without settling down on it. Now how you are goin' to carry on your place here, and live over in Kanzas, is more than I can make out," " No more I don't mean to live over there, neighbor. Don't you reckon I can keep two or three niggers ttiere just to see to things, and keep off other people, THB UPPER AND THE UNDER CRTST. 53 over myself now and then to keep 'em straight. That's ray plan." " But that won't be according to law, will it ?" 44 My gracious ! Just to hear the woman talk ! Fid- dle-stick's ends ! What do you reckon I care for their laws. We make our own laws over there ; and I would like to see the fellow that disputes mine. Let him show himself, that 's all. The land's mine, and I '11 Stick to it, too, if I have to fight for it like a pirate. Laws be hanged, I say." 44 Well, you talk fierce enough, if that 's all, and you are welcome to your land for all me. I 'm sure what we own here, keeps me frettin' the whole time." 44 He, he, he," laughed the old woman in the corner, suddenly starting up in her chair. "There ain't been such a gatherin' these twenty years. It cost a power o' money to get up that weddinV 44 What 's the woman talking about ?" said Mrs. Gamby 44 Old times, old times," said Mrs. Catlett, in a low voice. 44 You see her mind 's always runnin' on those days." 44 A lavender silk gown with trimmins so wide," said the old woman, measuring in the air with her skinny fin- gers ; 44 real point lace, too ; and her father nothin' but a colonel he, he, he there 's extravagance for you." 44 Never mind her talk," said Mrs. Catlett ; " she often runs on that way ; .it seems like she acted over every thing she ever did, sittin' there in her chair. It 's real grand sometimes, to hear her tell about the great dinners and dances they used to have when her grandfather was Gov- ernor Peters of Virginia." 44 She don't look much like goin' to such things now," said Mrs. Gamby, glancing at the palsied old creature, who, with a feeble laugh, had sunk back into the dreamy state from which she had so suddenly awakened. 64 WESTERN BORDER LIFE. " You spoke about frettin'," said Mrs. Gamby ; " I tefl yon, neighbor Catlett, that don't work at all ; least ways with niggers. You must lay down the law to 'em, and make "em keep it. That 's been my way, and they do say it works, too." " Well you 've got the strength to carry it out, I sup- pose ; but, with my poor health, I have to manage as easy as I can. Mr. Catlett always said I let my women run right over me ; somehow I never could keep 'em under. I don't believe any body ever had such a hard set to man- age ; there ain't more than two on the place that I can trust with any thing." " Trust a nigger, neighbor Catlett ! That 's a good one ! Of course you can't trust 'em. Did you ever come across one that would n't cheat, and lie, and steal when- ever he got a chance ? Trust 'em, indeed ! I would n't trust one of my gang with a sixpence. No, no, you must keep your eye on 'em ; watch 'em so close they can't draw a long breath without your knowin' it. That 's my way." " Some folks can do it," said Mrs. Catlett, with a sigh ; u I can't. My servants always did have the upper hand. I 've told Mr. Catlett many a time that I was more of a slave than any one of 'em." "Well, you see it's just because you keep frettin' at 'em all the while. They see how they can pester you, and you don't give 'em trainins enough to scare 'em into not doin' it. Niggers find out mighty quick when they can take liberties. Mine never step over the line. They find me up to 'em, you see." " There ain't many such managers as you. It don't appear to me to be women's business, any how. It' s too hard work." u Well, now, neighbor Catlett, just let me give you a little of my experience in this matter. You see, wheo THE UPPER AND THE UNDER CRUST. 55 my man died, twelve years ago, we owned a place down in Boone county. Well, every body said I should have to sell out or get an overseer ; there could n't no woman manage a great farm with fifteen or twenty hands to work it. Well, I thought differently, and I .reckoned on tryin' it awhile, any how. So I got the hands together, and I talked to 'em. I just let 'em understand what I meant to do. If any of 'em thought they was goin' to get along easier with a woman over 'em, it 's ray opinion they changed their minds 'fore ever I got through. I laid down the law, and how I was goin' to carry it out, and they see I was in arnest, too. u Well, I begun with 'em that very day, and I 've kept it up ever since, and I do say, you won't find a bet- ter trained set this side of the Mississippi. I never had no overseer. I 've gone into the field many a day, and worked alongside of 'em, and every man hoed his row when I was thai*. I've got three inches more home made a day out of my weavers than any body else in the neigh- borhood ; and I 've had all my wool picked out by chil- dren under ten years. Then my crop of tobacco this fall, why, it beats yours all to smash. You want to know why ?" " 'Cause she worked every body on the place down to skin and bone," whispered Cal. " I '11 tell you," continued Mrs. Gamby, " it 's 'cause I watch 'em so close. I keep right round after 'em ; they work smart, 'cause they never know but that I'm some- where out of sight lookin' on, and they don't get shet ot me after work-hours neither. I 've tracked 'em off to the corn-field many a moonlight night, and crept down to the quarters in my stocking feet, to peep through the cracks, and see what they were up to ; that 's my way of doiir things." 5tf WESTERN BORDER L1E. u Don't you ever feel afraid nights, Madam Gamby, all aJone there ?" inquired Nanny. "Afraid! What should I be afraid of, child? Why, bless you, I keep a loaded gun at the head of the bed, and I 'd shoot down the first person that entered my premises just as quick as I'd shoot a squirrel. Let 'em come, if they want to, that 's all." "Well, Madam Gamby," said Mrs. Catlett, "you may talk as much as you please, but it is n't such an easy thing to keep matters straight on a place like this. If ever Mr. Catlett gets home alive, I shan't give my consent to his goin' oif again. I'm just wearing myself out here, and things goin' to waste as fast as they can go." " Why, what 's come over you, neighbor Catlett ? 5Tou are as blue as my checked apron. There's Dave, now, he 's got to be 'most a man ; can't you fall back on him ?" " Dave 's of no account, Mrs. Gamby. He 's as easy as an old shoe ; lets every thing go at loose ends when he 's here, but wants to be off hunting or down to the store half the time. He leaves me with the care of the field hands and the house servants altogether." " Well, boys will be boys. Just wait till he has his own bread and bacon to get, and I '11 warrant you he '11 steady down. It brings young sprigs to, about as quick as any thing." " I hope it will, I 'm sure," said Mrs. Catlett, with a sigh. 14 You are going to set up school to-morrow, I hear ?" said Mrs. Gamby ; " is this the teacher ?" She turned round square upon Fanny as she spoke, sur- veying her from head to foot with a broad stare. The teacher bowed, for the question seemed addressed to her. " Well, you look kinder young. Have you had any experience ?" THE UPPER AND THE UNDER CRUST. 57 " I have never taught before," said Fanny, quietly. " No ! Well, do you reckon you know enough ? Where did you get your learnin' ?" ** I graduated two years ago at Seminary, Mrs. Gamby, and if I am not competent to teach, it is for no ack of the best advantages." " Lor', you need n't look so red about it. I reckon I 've a right to ask a question or two. I came over, neigh- bor Catlett," she said, to Fanny's great relief turning again to that lady, ;c to make a bargain with you for my gals this winter. You spoke about wan tin' two or three day scholars, did n't you ?" , " Boarders, you mean, Madam Gamby. Of course you wouldn't think of their living at home this winter?" " Of course I should, neighbor Catlett. What's to hinder ?" " What 's to hinder ? Why the bother of getting here every morning at nine o'clock, and ridin' three miles home every night." "Bless you, that's nothing ; a little exercise will do 'em good." " But you can't do it. Don't you see, these short day& they wouldn't begin to get home before night, and you 'd find it a task to get 'em here by nine o'clock in the morning." " Why, mercy on me, neighbor Catlett, my women do three hours' work before that time o' day. Don't you fret, I '11 have 'em here bright and early in the morning, and safe home at night." " But you '11 have to send a servant for 'em. It ain't fcafe for children to be ridin' through the woods after night, anyhow. Why can't you let 'em stay here ? They can go home Friday nights, you see, and stay till the next Monday." 58 WESTERN BORDER LIFE. " 'Cause there's no use in payin' out board for 'em miles from home, where victuals are of no account any- how. That 's why. Then, as to sendin' a servant, I shan't do any such thing. My young ones are too much like me to be scared at a little dark. Jerry will gear up the old larne mare for 'em, and one of your boys can turn her out on the prairie till night. That's the way I should fix it, so if you are a mind to take the two, we '11 settle on the terms." " But I have n't a mind, Madam Gamby. We about made up our minds not to take any day scholars. They are always runnin' in and out of the house with the other children, and make a heap of trouble, and don't pay enough to make it an object." " I did n't know you reckoned on making money out of your school," said Madam Gamby, tartly. " No more we don't, but we don't want to lose money on it, do we ?" " If I pay you all you ask for the schoolin', I can't see now you '11 lose any thing : but there 's no use in talking about it ; as to payin' out money for board when we raise every thing on the place, and victuals are of no account, I won't do it, that's flat. If you have a mind to take 'em for day scholars, well and good, I '11 send 'em along : if not, they can stay at home. They '11 have as much larnin' as their mammy, anyhow." " Well, Madam Gamby, we won't get riled about it. I see Marthy 's bringing in dinner, so we '11 eat and talk it over afterward." The subject was brought up again after dinner, and be- fore Mrs. Gamby left she had carried the day. "It's too awful mean," said Mrs. Catlett, after her visitor had gone ; " any body as well oif as she is to grudge her young ones board ! But I 'm glad she 's gone off in a THE UPPER AND THE UNDER CKUST* 59 good humor; I would n't have her mad with me for all the world. Miss Hunter, I hope you '11 be careful and keep m with the children. They say she's an a vful crittur when she has a spite against any body. Now we want about three more scholars, and then we are fixed. 5 ' Fanny was somewhat surprised to learn from all this, that her school could be increased in number to any ex- tent that her employers wished, without a corresponding increase of salary ; but thinking that in this thinly-settled neighborhood she was not likely to be overrun with pupils, the circumstance occasioned her little uneasiness. About an hour after Madam Gamby left, there was a low knock at the door, and on Dave's opening it, there stalked into the room a tall, gaunt man, with an unshorn face, and dressed in clothes that hung in rags at his elbows and at the tops of his heavy boots. He bowed awkwardly to Mrs. Catiett as he entered, and stood in the middle of the room, twirling his hat, with a half proud, half-sheepish ex- pression upon his sallow face. " Poor white folks," whispered Cal. The man turned sharply round, with a look that caused the child to sink back in the corner. " Sit down, Mr. Jenkins," said Mrs. Oatlett, coldly. " Marthy, why don't you set a chair for Mr. Jenkins ?" The girl slowly advanced and pushed a chair to the stranger, making faces at him slyly for the children's amusement. Dave had resumed his paper, and Mrs. Catiett showed no disposition to open a conversation, so that after shifting uneasily about in his chair for a moment, the man himself began, " You are goin' to set up a school here, they say.'* "Yes," said Mrs. Catiett; "we have a teacher en- gaged." 60 WES TEK^ BORDER LIFE. "And you wanted to take in a few scholars, didn't you ?" " We tall ed of it," said the lady, coldly. " Well, 1 've got a little gal," said the man, speaking rapidly and with his eyp.s fastened upon the floor. " I wanted to give her a schoolin', and the oid woman reck- oned you would be willin' to take her six months or so. I thought I 'd come over and see you about it." Dave looked up from his paper with a rude stare, while Mrs. Catlett seemed speechless with astonishment. " You see I would n't have come to you," said the man, in a half proud, half cringing manner, " seein' that such as you, don't like poor folks' children over and above, but there ain't another school short of eight miles, and I can't seem to feel easy with the gal she 's the only one we 've got growin' up without a bit of larnin'. If you could take her " "We've about made up our number, Mr. Jenkins," said Mrs. Catlett. " Mebbe one would n't make much odds," he continued, trying to speak carelessly, though his voice shook a little. " The gal's a quiet gal, and the old woman will make her decent for clothes. She won't make you a speck of trou- ble. We are poor" a flush rose to his sallow cheek 46 but tli ere can't nobody say a word agin our honesty. We" " Twelve on 'em in the family," said the old woman in the corner ; *' twelve in the family, and every soul on 'em died in the poor house. The miserablist, idlist set you ever did see." The man turned fiercely round, but she had sunk back in her chair, muttering unintelligibly to herself. " Mr. Jenkins," said Mrs. Catlett, in a freezing tone, " I should be glad to do you a favor, but the fact is, we THE UPPER AND THE UNDER CRUST. 61 don't want any more scholars. We need all the teacher's time for our own children." " And ain't there other folks that want their children to know something, but you ?" said the man, fiercely. " What 's to become of the brats round here, growin' up like the very pigs ?" then suddenly checking himself, he continued in a milder tone; "you mustn't mind me, inarm ; I get most crazy times, thinkin' about it. But jest put yourself in my place, Miss Catlett. S'pose it was your child a-growin' up so. My old woman at home loves that gal as well as you love yours ; mebbe a trifle better, for it 's all she's got. You are a woman, now just think of it; and how can I go back and tell her there ain't any chance ? If you could give her one hour a day, that ain't much ; only one hour ; it would be a heap better than none to us. Mebbe you '11 think of it." " Mrs. Catlett," said Fanny, leaning over the lady's chair, " I will teach his little girl an hour out of school, if you are willing." " The Lord bless you," said the man, whose eager ears had caught the words, softly as they were spoken. " Nonsense, Miss Hunter," said Mrs. Catlett. " You know nothing about it. It 's entirely impossible" then turning to the man, she said, angrily, "I've told you once, Mr. Jenkins, that we can not take your girl; if once isn't enough, I tell you so again. I 'm not likely to change my mind for any thing you can say." His sallow face grew a shade paler, and rising from the cringing posture he had assumed during the conversation he drew himself up to his full height, and bowing as dis- tantly as the lady herself, left the room, the children mim- icking his shuffling gait, and whispering each other to look at his ragged elbows. " Well, I 'm beat this time," said Mrs. Catlett, as the 62 WESTERN BORDER LIFE. door closed behind him. " If any body had told me that man would dare to come on such an errand, I should have laughed in their face. I never was so taken aback in my life." " O, there 's no end to such people's assurance, ma," aaid Nanny. "They think they are as crank as any body." "My goodness!" said Mrs. Catlett, "to think of my takin' his brat to keep company with my children." " If I 'd been in Dave's place, I 'd have cracked him over," said little Johnny. " Shut up, Johnny ; you are gettin' too smart. Ma, did you see how those children behaved. You ought to take 'em down a peg," said Nanny. "Don't tell me any thing about it, Nan, I see enough. If it had been any body but Tim Jenkins, I should have felt ashamed of their tantrums." "Why, ma, we behaved beautiful," said Cal. "I'm sure I did n't so much as crack a smile, for all he came shambling in so funny." " You better talk !" said Maria. " You sauced him right to his face." "I didn't either, Miss 'Ria. I just giv him his title, that 's all." " You ought to have seen Cal when he glared round at her," said Dave, laughing. " She looked like I 've seen a rabbit, when you first scare 'em up : all eyes." "I thought she 'd pitch me over, sure," said little Joy, " she was so fierce to get back in the corner." " I don't car'," said Maud, " I wish his girl could go tu school, if she wants to so bad. I 'm sure she might go in my place and welcome." " Maud Catlett," said her mother, " don't you ever let me hear you say that again. I don't want iny children to have any sympathy with those low people." THE UPPER AND THE UNDER CRUST. 63 " I don't car'," said Maud again ; " I felt mighty sorry for him." " Miss Hunter," said Mrs. Catlett, when the children had gone up stairs, "I hope you'll be careful how you treat those low people like Tim Jenkins. When you 've been here a little longer, you '11 see it is n't best to make any .such offers as you did just now." 41 What have they done so bad, Mrs. Catlett?" inquired Fanny. " What have they done ? Why they are poor, shi&leaa, no account, white folks." CHAPTER VI. THE CLAIM DISPUTED. " HOLLOA, Tom, where in thunder is that plaguy tree you nailed Jack Catlett's manifesto to ? Hang me if I did n't think this was the very one. Come, my boy, look about you, and find your hand-writing, do you hear ?" " That 's it, squire ; that big oak yonder ; if it ain't, set Turner down for a man without eyes in his head. Well, that is curis, though. What on earth has become of the thing ? Look here, Catlett, some rascally abolition dog has torn it down, as sure as you are a born sinner." " That 's so, anyhow, for here's the bits scattered on the grass. Let 's see," says Tom, dismounting ; " I vow here 's the whole word, ' Jack,' on this very first scrap, just as I wrote it. Here 's a chance for a little fun now ! We have got to shoot some half a dozen free soil scoun- drels before you can own this land, squire, that 's clear. And here 's the fellow that will pitch into 'em the worst way. Gad ! I '11 be mighty glad to come across some- thing to stir up my blood a little. I 'd just as soon shoot on a of them blasted Yankees as I would a squirrel, and a great deal druther." " Where are the villains ? Who '11 scare 'em up ? Just let 'em show themselves, that 's all. This old rifle has n't done much on Kanzas ground since we started. Let me just see the white of an abolition eye, and I '11 send a THE CLAIM DISPUTED. 65 bullet through it co-chug. Miserable, vile, murderous outlaws! We'll teach 'em to respect a true Southern gentleman, with the last relic of old Governor Peters, of Virginia, in his house. Tear down Jack Catlett's name ! Audacious villains ! Turner, Tom, our altars, our firesides, our sacred honors are endangered. Shall we submit tamely to such unpardonable insolence ?" " Jimminy ! there 's eloquence for you. I say, squire, what a tall one you'd make at stump-speaking. We ought to have him up, Tom, at the next election." Our three neighbors with whom this tale opened, had accomplished their reconnoitering tour, selected claims here and there with Catlett's and Turner's names nailed to at least fifty different trees, and returning, had now arrived at the identical spot where the conversation oc- curred, so faithfully chronicled in the first chapter. This claim of Catlett's, out of the whole number which these two worthies greedily hoped to secure somehow, by hook or by crook, to them and their heirs forever, is the only one which concerns our history. We shall, therefore, dismiss the others without another word. Perhaps some other chronicler may hand them down to fame. On ar- riving at this spot, Catlett was the first to discover that his claim in writing was not where he supposed Tom Walton had nailed it; Turner, to conjecture that it had been torn down " maliciously and by instigation of the devil," by some hot-headed abolitionist, and Tom, to dem- onstrate that by some hands it had been torn in pieces and scattered to the winds. Words can not do justice to the torrent of indignation which poured forth in the expression, and overflowed in oaths under the clear sky of Kanzas, upon that sublime occasion. We have only attempted to record the conver- Ration up to the time when, upon the discovery, the scald 66 w '.STERN BORDER LIFE. ing sire** "*" ' lolence began to flow, omitting, we must confer M n ^ bs with which even then it was garnished. Our p'ML L'/i a pertinacious reluctance to give to profane \vorf iier .young days. ' ' There was not a stove on the premises. A large open fireplace extended half across the room, and scorched one's face with the heat from burning logs, while the breezes whistled round back and feet most merrily. A decanter of whisky, and half a dozen glasses, stood always upon the sideboard for the entertainment of visitors, and the gentlemen, and frequently lady guests, were invited to take a drink. " Viny," said Fanny one day, as she was passing through the yard, where the girl was washing, "why don't you have a bench to set your tub on, and not wash with it on the ground? I should think it would break your back." " I neber heered ob sich," said Viny, with a grin ; " what de use, anyhow ? ground good nufF to wash on, Miss Fanny." " Yes, but it 's so much harder. Then there 's Aunt Tibby, she has n't a bit of a table in th kitchen, and makes up all her bread and pies with the rolling-board flat on the floor." " Dat's de way, Miss Fanny ; don't want no table luiii- berin' up de kitchen." " And bakes every thing, bread and cake, and all, m one little bake-kettle. I don't see how she ever gets through." " Lors, Miss Fanny, every body on de prairie does jest BO. You see we 's allers used to it dat's de reason." Another cause of wonder to Fanny, was the strict at- tention paid by all the family to old Madam Hester. Kind, respectful treatment, such as old age and infirmity always demands, would not have surprised her ; but Mrs. Catlett's eager, almost servile attention to her slightest wants, and DISTRESS IN DOMESTIC LIFE. 103 the reverence with which all appeared to regard her, ex- cited her curiosity. One evening after the children had gone to bed, and the old woman, in the midst of her rambling talk, was led up stairs, Fanny ventured to broach the subject. " Mrs. Catlett," she said, " how long has Madam Hester been in your family ?" " How long ? well, let me see. Aunt Mercy died two years before we moved to Carolville, and that was eleven, yes, twelve years next June. I remember, because Cal was a baby, born the very week Madam Hester came here to live. How I did fret, for fear she'd go to Cousin Wortley's. They were n't so nigh of kin, neither ; but I reckon if Mr. Catlett rode over there once, he went twenty times to see about it." " What relation is she to you, Mrs. Catlett ?" " She was own aunt to my mother, Miss Fanny. You see my grandmother Wortley was a Mason, and Abby Mason, that was her own sister, married Paytere Peters, son of Governor Peters. Madam Hester is own grand- daughter to Governor Peters of Virginia." " Indeed !" said Fanny, seeing that she was expected to aay something. " Yes, and there is n't any better blood in Virginia than runs in b<*r veins. I tell you, Governor Peters stood among the first. I 've heard my grandmother tell about his house down in Richmond county. She used to tell about his piles of silver plate, and the great dming-hall where they never s- 1 less than twenty at table, and the carriage he rode in, with silver mountings, and his blood-horses and all that. I 've sat and listened to her hours and hours." "An >ld Virginia gentleman," said Fanny. " Ye? and when the war came, then he lost it all. The British jjst went through that part of Virginia, and plan- 104 WESTERN BORDER LIFE. dered every gentleman's house on the road. The old gov- ernor was gone, and the women folks and the servants were all there were in the house and they had to run off in the woods, and hide to save their lives. Madam Hester and Mercy were little bits of things ; but before she lost her mind, she used to tell how they stayed there in the woods all night, and how her mother and grandmother cried and sobbed, when they saw the sky red with the burning house. Well, they just lost every thing. When they crept back, it was nothing but a pile of srnokin' ruins. The plate and the beautiful furniture, and every thing waa all gone. They said the old governor never got over it. He let every thing run to waste, and, before he died, was a poor man." " And Madarn Hester ?" " O, her father owned a place down in lowei Virginia, and they all went there to live. When he died, she and Aunt Mercy kept on with it as well as they could ; but you see the land was mostly run out, and they had to sell a servant or two every year to make out a livin'. I don't know exactly how it came about, but when Aunt Mercy died, the place would n't hardly pay the debts, and Madam Hester was left without a penny in the world-." " Was she ever married ?" " No, she was going to be once, they said, but her lover d ; ed in the wars, and she never found another to suit her. They say she was one of the handsomest women in Vir- ginia, as proud and stately as a king's daughter, and the best dancer in all the country." Fanny recalled the image of the hideous, decrepit old creature who had just left them, and wondered it she ever could have been beautiful and graceful; if the face now yellow and wrinkled, could ever have called forth praises by its beauty and bloom, or if that form now bent and those A DECAYED SPECIMEN OF VIRGINIA ARISTOCRACY. DISTRESS IN DOMESTIC LIFE. 105 limbs now tottering, carried off once the palm in the dance. She was going off in a reverie, when Mrs. Catlett's voice recalled her. "My mother was always proud of her kin," she said; " but I believe the old lady would have been ready to jump out of her skin, if she had thought we should have a grand-daughter of Governor Peters of Virginia living with us in the house twelve years." " It is very kind in you to take care of her in her old age," said Fanny. " Very kind in us !" repeated Mrs. Catlett, in great sur- prise. " What do you mean ? It 's an honor, let me tell you, Miss Hunter, that don't happen to a family every day. Kind, indeed ; any body might be proud of having a grand-daughter of Governor Peters, of Virginia, under their roof!" Fanny was greatly abashed at her mistake, and with an apology for her stupidity, took up her candle, and bade Mrs. Catlett good-night. So intently was she meditating upon the honor of enter- taining a grand-daughter of Governor Peters, of Virginia, that she did not observe the obstacle in her way, and had nearly fallen over a little heap curled up at the head of the stairs. Quickly recovering herself, she stooped down to gee what it was, and recognized black Tilla, her head resting upon the floor, and her little bare feet drawn up under her. " Why, Tilla, is this you ?" said Fanny. " What 's the natter ? " O ! miz'ry !" said Tilla. " What is it, Tilla ? Are you sick ?" " Mighty poorly !" said the child, in a hopeless tone. " Well, why don't you go to bed ? Come, don't he there," said Fanny, attempting to lift her. <' O ! don't, Miss Fanny, please," said Tilla. " If yo J 5* 106 WESTERN BORDER LIFE. jest would n't touch me. I 's got such a misery in my side." " Well, don't you know it will make it worse to lie out here in the cold ? You must come in by the fire." " I jest don't want to stir," said Tilla. " O ! mis'ry, I 'a BO bad !" " Tilla, get up this instant, and come in by the fire," said Fanny, in a tone of command. The child obeyed, rising with difficulty, and once or twice repeating the exclamation of suffering. " Now, Tilla," said Fanny, after making her as comfort- able as she could, with a piece of old carpet and a quilt from her own bed, "now, Tilla, don't you lie out in the cold again when you are sick." " Miss Cal done kick me out !" said Tilla. Fanny groaned in spirit. She had that morning given her scholars a lecture upon cruelty to animals. " I hate Miss Cal," said Tilla, an expression of malignity crossing her features. " I hates 'em all, I do. Lors ! what if Miss Car'line hear me say dat ?" " Hush, Tilla, you must n't talk so ; it 's wicked." " I does, Miss Fanny. O ! mis'ry !" " Do you feel so very bad, Tilla ?" " Mighty poorly !" said Tilla, the same old, hopeless ex- pression returning to her face. " Why don't you tell Aunt Phebe, and let her give you something to make you well ?" " She can't, Miss Fanny. She says it 's in my bones." " Does Mrs. Catlett know you are sick, Tilla ?" "Who? Miss Car'line. She don't car'. She won't hear to me, when I telled her I 's sick. She say *t ain't nothin' but lazy, and she cuff me roun', and call me names, and Massa Dave he say, 'I wish she 's under ground.' I wish I was dar, too," said Tilla. DISTRESS IN DOMESTIC LIFE. 107 " O ! Tilla ! " I does, 'cause I's in ebery body's way, and tbar don't nobody car' for me, not de fus one, only Marthy, and dey hates her too." " There 's one that loves you, Tilla. Did you ever hear about Jesus Christ ?" "I's heered Aunt Phebe tell." " And how He left his beautiful home up in the sky, and came down and suffered, and died, for just such poor little ones as you. He loves you, Tilla. He says, ' Suffer little children to come unto Me, and forbid them not.' He wants you to be good, and He will be a kind friend to you, and by-and-by take you to a beautiful world, where you will never be sick any more, or feel pain and trouble again. You 've heard about heaven, Tilla?" " Aunt Phebe sings about a holy city, 'way up above the Bky." " Can you say the rest ?" Tilia repeated a verse of a familiar camp-meeting hymn : u * There is a holy city 'Way up above the sky, A bright and shining temple, Where Jesus dwells on high ; And all the saints are shouting, Arrayed in robes of white ; With golden harps to praise Him, They dwell with Him in light' " " And don't you want to go there, and be one of those bright angels ?" " O ! yes ! Miss Fanny," said Tilla, clasping her little ihin hands, while the tears ran down her cheeks. " Well, then, you must be one of God's own children ! You must try to be like this blessed Jesus, gentle, and 108 WESTERN BOBBER LIFE. kind, and loving, even to those who are unkind to you. This is the way Jesus did ; and when wicked men beat Him and spit on Him, and nailed Him to the cross, till He died, He forgave them, and prayed for them. Will you try to be like Him, Tilla ? " O ! Miss Fanny, I can't," said Tilla. " I spec' I never get thar, anyhow. Thar can't nobody be good, when fcvery body's a jawin' an' crackin' 'em round all day. Dey all hates me. 'Pears like I must hate 'em back agin, >T ain't no odds, anyhow. O ! mis'ry !" " Tilla, did you ever ask God to help you to be good ?" " Don' know how." " Will you kneel right down now, and shut your eyes, and say a little prayer after me ?" " Yes, Miss Fanny." She knelt upon the floor, and clasping her thin hands, solemnly repeated the few simple words Fanny uttered, then sinking down upon her bed, was fast asleep in a mo- ment. Fanny gazed upon the puny face, retaining even in sleep its sorrowful, care-worn expression, and then drawing the scanty covering over her bare feet, she left the ch'id to her repose. CHAPTER X. HOME FROM KANZAS. morning Mrs. Catlett rose in a particularly humor. It was a cold wet day, the fire was slow in burn- ing, the baby cross, and Martha and Tilla half asleep. Fanny woke with a confused idea that something unpleas- ant was going on below, and the fretful tones of Mrs. Cat- lett's voice, mingling with the patter of the rain against the windows, suggested the idea of that " continual drop- ping that weareth away a stone." She opened her eyes, wide enough to see that it was barely light, and was sink- ing away into another doze, when a loud exclamation from Mrs. Catlett, followed by a rush of little feet in the direc- tion of the passage, awakened all the sleepers, and the next moment Martha burst into the room, her face beam- ing with delight. " 0, Miss Nanny, you all get right up ; Massa Jack done come !" she cried. They needed not a second bidding. All were out of bed in an instant, hurrying on their clothes, and overpow- ering Martha with questions which they could not wait for her to answer. "When did he come?" "How long has he been here ?" " What did ma say ?" " O how glad I am !" " Don 5 no nothin' 'bout it," said Martha, " only Miss Car'line she go inter de passage to undo de fron' door, an' 110 WESTERN BOEDER LIFE. O my ! what a screamin', an' de nex' minit Mass' Jack come walkin' in." "O dear, where is that Viny," said Joy, nearly crying with vexation ; " I never can fasten these hooks, and every body '11 be dressed first. Do somebody help me." Fanny fastened the troublesome dress, braided Maud's hair, and tied a hanging shoe-string, and then, after all had gone, proceeded more leisurely with her own toilet. " I wonder if 1 shall like him," she thought, as she stood * moment at the window before going down. Women were hurrying to and from the kitchen, while in the door- way stood Tibby, stirring up the batter bread for break- fast, and two or three of the men, with axes on their shoulders, lingered about, waiting for a word from "Mass' Jack." All seemed full of joyful excitement. " They are glad to see him," thought Fanny, " that is a good sign ;" and putting a few finishing touches to her dress, she hast- ened down stairs. The room was looking very bright and cheerful, a good fire burning on the hearth, and the table spread for break- fast. With his back to the fire, his hands crossed behind him, stood the master of the house. He was a muscular, broad-shouldered man, full six feet high, dressed in clothes a good deal the worse for wear, and a hat slouched over his eyes. His face was rough with a week's growth of beard, and a large quid of tobacco disfigured one cheek, but his features were not unpleasing, and there was a good-humored twinkle in his gray eye, as he looked down apon the new teacher. " Well, come on," he said, after staring at her a moment as she stood timidly upon the lower stair. " What are you afraid of?" Fanny advanced, and gave him her hand. "Why you are a young . thing, ain't you?" said Mr, HOME FROM KANZAS. Ill Catlett, looking down upon her as a bear might eye a mouse. " Well, what are you doing out here, hey ?" " Trying to drive a little knowledge into your children's heads," said Fanny with spirit, for she was not pleased with her reception. " Whew !" said Mr. Catlett, starting back in mock alarm. " Sharp, now, ain't you ? A Yankee girl, cut and dried, from Connecticut, hey?" " Now, Mr. Catlett, do be quiet," said his wife. " Miss Fanny don't know how to take your jokes. Just let her alone, and tell us when you got here. The children have kept up such a clatter I hav n't found a chance to put in a word." "Well, marm," said Mr. Catlett, "as nigh ah I can guess ain't that what you Yankees say, Miss what 's your name ? I got here between twelve and one o'clock last night." " But why in the world could n't you let us know you was here ?" said Mrs. Catlett, " and not lie out in the porch all night. How do you reckon I found him, Miss Fanny, when I went to undo the door ? There he lay, curled up on the floor, as fast as a log. I reckon he '11 be down sick with a chill to-morrow." "Miss Calacanthus don't you fret," said her husband. "Do you s'pose I wanted such a screechin' and screamin' in the middle of the night, as you women always get up at such times, with every chick and child on the place raisin' hob generally. I just lopped down there to have a quiet nap before morning. Come, ma, tell some of them women to toat in breakfast. I want to eat. O, Madam Hester, how do you find yourself?" he continued, advan> ing to shake hands with the old creature. She looked up at the sound of his voice, and a gleam of something like intelligence passed over her face. 112 WESTERN BORDER LIFE. " O ho, you have come," she said. " You have been gone a long time, a mighty long time, and there 's them that's been a watchin' and a waitin', but they are in their graves O ho." She shook her head feebly, and tottered to her seat. "She gets more wanderiri' every day, Mr. Catlett. It seems like she was failing fast." " No good will come on 5 t," said the old woman sud- denly. " I always telled them no good would come on 't. Always a goin', never contented to stop in any place. I telled them they 'd rue the day they sent the boy off to seek his fortin." "There, Mr. Catlett, that's jnst the wa^ she puts in lately, 'specially when we say any thing about Dave 's going away. I declare, she scares me sometimes " " You are easily scared, then," said her husband. " Can't you see it 's old times she 's talkin' about ?" " It ain't no use," said Madam Hester, " I tell yet I 've warned 'em ag'in and ag'in, but it runs in the family, and them chat's fated is fated. There's trouble ahead, O ho " u There, now I hope she 's done," said Mrs. Catlett. " 1 5 m sure I think heaps of Madam Hester, but I can't help thinkin' times, that she 's like a black raven sittin' there in the chimney corner, croakin' out evil. She 's al- ways sayin' something gloomy." " Fiddlesticks ! women are always pickin' up something to fret about. Come, now, let 's have breakfast, and let Madam Hester alone." " O, pa, did you know what a great hole you have got in your hat ? Two of 'em, right opposite each other," said Cal, holding up the unfortunate beaver. "Gracious! Mr. Catlett, it's a bullet- hole," said hii wife; "where have you been? Did you get into a fight ?" HOME FROM KANZAS. 113 * c Hold your tongue," said her husband ; " it 's none of your business where I 've been ; and put down that hat^ child, this minute, and come to breakfast." " Pa puts his elbows on the table," whispered little Johnny. " What 's that you say, jackanapes ?" Johnny hung his head. " Speak up, can't you," said his father. " Miss Fanny says we ought n't to put our elbows on the table, and you do," said Johnny, timidly. " So that's it, is it ?" said Mr. Catlett, his good humor apparently restored ; " our Connecticut school-marm teaches the young ones better manners than their dad- dy's. Well, so it goes. By the way, wife, have you had any pumpkin-bread yet ?" " Why, no," said Mrs. Catlett, " they have n't toated up the pumpkins. I reckon it 's time, though." " Nor any onions ?" said Mr. Catlett. " Lors no ! what are you drivin' at, Mr. Catlett V" " No wonder Miss What's-her-name 's a trifle home-sick. Bless you, wife, we must have pumpkin-bread for a week to come. You see Miss Fandango," said Mr. Catlett, gravely, " we 've got half an acre of pumpkins, and a pow- erful big bed of onions, so you need n't go to sighin' for the leeks and garlics of Weatherstield. Ain't that where they go it so strong in the onion line ?" " Mr. Catlett, ain't you ashamed," said his wife ; " yoa fairly make Miss Fanny blush." " So much the better," said Mr. Catlett, " I want to see a little Yankee bloom now and then. The chills don't leave much on the Missouri girls' cheeks." " Pa, you don't call her right," said Johnny; "hernanu is Miss Fanny." 114 WESTERN BORDER LIFE. u Well, that ain't much of a name, Johnny. I want to improve it." " It 's a right pretty name, I think," said Johnny. " What in patience have you been doin' to that nig- ger ?" said Mr. Catlett, as Tilla brought round her young fcystress's plate; "she looks as ashy as Tib's lye-kettle, and as doleful as a tomb-stone." " She always looks that way," said his wife. " She 'a the ugliest brat on the place. I believe she tries tu look just as bad as she can to pester me. See her now, with her forehead puckered up and her mouth drawn down like an old woman. I can't bear the sight of her." * " Well, what 's the matter, anyhow ?" "Nothing at all," said Mrs. Catlett, sharply. "She puts on, and makes believe she 's sick, to get shet of work, I reckon ; though, goodness knows, she has little enough to do." " O, Mass' Jack," said Martha, stopping suddenly with a plate of batter-cakes in her hand, " she is sick. She 's right sick. Dat's what makes her look so." u Hold your tongue, you jade," said her mistress; " how dare you contradict me ?" " Please, Miss Car'line, I did n't mean no harm. I reckoned you did n't see how bad she was gettinV " I see how saucy you are gettin', and I '11 take you down a peg, too, if you don't mind yourself." " Come, come, ma, let a fellow have one quiet day, can't you, before you let off steam," said Mr. Catlett ; " and try to put a little grease on to that young one, for the credit of the place. The crows would n't pick her as she is now." " Mass' Jack," said Martha, following him as he saun- tered out into the back porch, " if you only would tell HOME FROM KANZAS. 115 Miss Car'line, Tilla 's sure enough sick. She won't hear to me, nor Miss Fanny." " It 's none of my business, Marthy," said Mr. Catlett ; " I never interfere with the house-servants." " Jest this once, Mass' Jack." " Marthy, what are you foolin' about out there ?" said Mrs. Catlett's angry voice. Martha looked wistfully in her master's face, but its careless good-humored expression, gave her no encourage- ment to brave her mistress's wrath, and slowly and sadly she returned to her presence. " Dave, where 's them crack dogs you was tellin' about?" said Mr. Catlett, lounging in the doorway where Dave was feeding the hounds. Dave gave a low whistle. " Here, Othor," he said, as a large tan-colored dog bounded toward them. " There 's a hound !" said Dave, admiringly. " Look at that head, will you? and his chest. There's some breadth there." " They ain't bad," said Mr. Catlett, examining the dog critically. " No," said Dave. " You ought to see that dog run. The way he clears the ground is n't slow. The first time I took him out was the day after you left. There was I, and Mack, and the Turner boys along. We took their two dogs and this fellow. Bob Turner 's always crackin' up his dogs, you know, and they are prime to run, Well, sir, we started a deer. I had the stand down by the hol- low, at the edge of the oak thicket. I waited about half an hour, when I heard a crashing in the under-brush, and next minute a full-grown buck came out of the thicket within three rods of me. I fired and missed. I tell you I felt streaked. I reckoned, of course, I 'd seen the last of him, and was cussin' my bad luck, when Othor dashed 116 WESTERN BORDER LIFE. by me on the full run. I knew he was n't far behind, for I heard his voice in the woods. But what do you think ? Just as he was goin' it. full split one way, here comes the deer back the other. Something had turned him, you see ; he doubled, and wanted to take to the thicket again. Othor met him about half way down the hollow. I tell you 't was a picture. The buck stood with his head down and his feet close together, and the hair on the ridge of his back bristling like a wild cat's ; and Othor squatted flat on the ground, and cocked his head one side, kind- er knowin' like, but his eyes watchin' the other ake a rattlesnake's just afore it springs. Well, sir, they looked at each other about a minute, and the deer made his first bound. Just then my ball hit him. He staggered a little, and Othor had him by the neck directly, and held him down till I cut his throat. I never felt afraid for that dog's spunk afterward." Mr. Catlett heard the story with deep attention. " Well, here 's another," he said. u What kind of a crittur is this ?" " O ! that dog is prime ! Here, Uno, you must have a word, must you ?" A beautiful black hound, spotted with white, trotted up with a low whine, and thrust his cold nose in his master's hand. "There, sir, that dog and his mate they are just alike, you see I reckon will beat any thing on the prairie. They are young yet, and I hav n't tried 'em at runnin', but if they turn out as well as they promise, they '11 go a leetle ahead of any thing we 've seen yet. You see they are lighter built than Othor, but just look at their muscles, you won't find much fat there." " No," said Mr. Catlett, " you 've kept 'em as thin as rails." " That 's the nature of 'em, you see. They are just cut II O M E F tt M. K A N X A rt , 117 out for runnin'. Such knowin' fellows, too. That dog, Uno, all but talks." " What do you call 'em?" said Mr. Catlett. "Uno and Ino," said Dave "right knowin^ names, ain't they ?" "Who named 'em?" " Well, I was tryin' to think of some good names for 'em, and Miss Fanny she thought of these I called 'em go right off." " Pretty good." Just then Fanny appeared on her way to the school- house, followed by all the children. The dog no sooner perceived her, than he left Dave, and bounded to her side. Fanny laid down her book, and stooped to caress him. It was a pretty sight to see them together, the slender girl, and the great gaunt hound fondling her little hand, and yielding his noble head to her caresses. o Dave hastened forward to pick up her book, and taking an autumn blossom which he had found somewhere in the woods, from his button-hole, he gave it to her. She thanked him by an exclamation of delight, and a look from her brown eyes that Dave remembered all day. " It 's mighty queer," he said, after she had disappeared in the school-house, " that dog took to her from the very first, and he never seemed to notice any other woman." " Dogs and boys sometimes do mighty foolish things," said Mr. Catlett, dryly, " but how does she work it, sure enough ? Keep any thing of a school ?" " Well, you 'd think so. I never see any thing like it. When she first came here, I reckoned she would n't make it go at all. She looked so young, and had such childish ways with her, I reckoned our young ones would get the upper hand the first thing, but it 's right the other way. I never could see how she manages it, fof out of school 118 WESTERN BORDER LIFE. she carries on with 'em like she was as young as any ; but you can't hire 'em to do any thing she don't like. I don't see how she 's got round 'em so, I.'m sure." " The same way she 's made over a tolerably sensible boy into a lady's man, with posies stickin' in his button- holes," said Mr. Catlett. Most of the morning was spent by " Massa Jack" in going about the place, visiting the wood-lot, the stable, the tobacco-house, and the corn-crib, holding good-natured talk with the servants, and taking a general oversight of matters and things about the farm. Notwithstanding Mrs. Catlett's doleful anticipations of the state in which Mr. Catlett would find every thing on his return, that gentle man appeared to be very well satisfied with the progress of events during his absence. " That 's pretty well, Uncle Jake," he said to an old gray-headed negro, who, in his knit woolen cap, red shirt, and homespun trousers, was chopping away at a little distance from the other hands. " Bress yer soul, Mass' Jack," said the old man, wiping the perspiration from his face, " dis yer ain't nothin', it don't begin ; I 'se seen de time when I could cut six hun- dred feet of timber a day easy. Ole bones ! Mass' Jack, ole bones! dey wants greazing up once in a while." " Well, come up to the house, after night, Uncle Jake, and we '11 grease 'em up with a dram." " Hi ! dat 's de sort !" said the old man. Passing on to the tobacco-house, arid from there to the corn-crib, they were returning by the quarters, when Aunt Patsey stepped out of her cabin, with a little black image in her arms. " Mass' Jack, don' forget de baby !" she said. " Bless me ! so I did !" said Mr. Catlett. " A new one, ain't it ? Well, to be sure, it 's quite peart. What do you call it, Pats' ?" HOME FROM K A N Z A S . 119 " Polly Ebcmezer," said Patsey, with a grin. u Ebenezer !" said her master. " Why, that 's a boy's name." " So dey all telled me, but la sakes, it don't made no odds. It 's a good name, anyhow ; Aunt Phebe she ings, " ' Here I raise, my Ebenezer,' dar's whar I got it, you see." " Yes, yes," said Mr. Catlett, " I did n't see the gist of it before. I 've no objection to your raisin' as many Ebenezers as you 've a mind to." Aunt Patsey grinned again, and retreated into her cabin. From Mrs. Catlett's frequent declarations that her trouble and anxiety arose from her husband's absence, Fanny concluded that on that gentleman's return, all would flow on smoothly as a summer stream, but she soon found that the troubled waters were not thus easily stilled. Mrs. Catlett was one of those unfortunate persons who must worry about something all the time, whose happiness consists in being imhappy, and who, if no real cause for fretfulness exists, will, by some means, invent one. When relieved from the care of the field hands, she had all tbe more leisure to scold the house servants, to pick flaws in the children, and to fret generally over her mis- fortune in being at the head of such an establishment. Her husband listened to all her complaints with the most perfect nonchalance, sometimes falling in with what she said, and declaring that she was the most miserable woman in the world, and that he always knew it, and at other times making no reply at all. Occasionally, however, he became angry, and bade her be quiet, a course that stilled her instantly, for she stood in great fear of her husband's wrath. CHAPTER XL BORDERERS TO THE R E S C U E . OUR three discomfited worthies, as they rode along by moonlight, to go back in the line of our history somewhat, were busy planning their revenge upon the impudent and unreasonable squatter, who was strangely unwilling to give up his claim and cabin, food and shelter, just as win- ter approached, after the labor of a whole season, to their imperious mandate. They would rouse the whole prairie, liquor 'em up well, surround the claim, search for the cabin, burn it to the ground, and scatter its inmates. It would never do to allow a free soil settlement to grow up within thirty miles of La Belle Prairie. It would work the worst kind of mischief among the niggers. They could n't stand it nohow. But why such an army to put down one Yankee and his son? This question they did not raise in words, but much of their talk was intended to answer it. It wasn't any use to spill the blood of gentlemen born. Where there were so many lazy devils round, they might as well have enough to make sure and safe work. " Wife and children," said Catlett, who was really quite a domestic man, as has already ap- peared. " They are plaguy close shooters," said Turner, * fc as that hole in your hat testifies, neighbor, and there '11 be hot work before we are done with 'em. They '11 fight like devils, see ff they don't." Tom said nothing, but sur B O K D E R E It S TO THE RESCUE. 12} his begrimed person and grated his teeth. They talked over, also, what sort of story they, should tell to excite the neighbors. They did not say it, but what they said r.ieant that it would never do to let it be known that three of the chivalry ran from a Yankee and a half. " Shall we say a dozen ?" said Catlett. " Twenty," said Tom. " Fifty ," said Turner. " It won't do to be too steep, though," said the squire, " a dozen is enough." So it stood at a dozen. It may surprise our readers, but nei- ther of these capitalists of the prairie ever read Shak- speare, or had heard of such a personage as Jack Falstaff. After this they discussed whether they should have a meeting at Belcher's store, who should be spokesman, whether they should be mum to their families till the gathering, and who should ride round and drum up all hands. At last, as they neared Catlett's house, they con- cluded that they would have a meeting at the store, that they would keep perfectly quiet until then, that Catlett should be spokesman, and Turner and Tom drum up all hands. And if they did n't make the rascally Yankee rue the day he laid his hand on a Missouri gentleman, it would be because there was n't any spunk left on the border. So they bade Catlett good-night, who arrived as afore- said. "Dave," said that gentleman at dinner, "I want you to go to Belcher's with me this evening. Tell Jerry to gea* the horses right away." " You ain't going to send him off, are you ? said Mrs. Catlett timidly; for her husband looked somewhat awry^ and met her looks of suspicion and anxiety in a way that convinced the lady that he was not to be questioned too closely. "Don't you fret," returned her lord and master, and there was acquiescence. 6 122 WESTERN BORDER LIFE. 41 There 's something on Mr. Catlett's mind," she said, as soon as he was gone ; " a fight or a drinking row, I '11 warrant. That man is always getting into s>me scrape, and now poor Dave must be dragged into it. Viny, hand me my pipe on the sideboard, and a shovel of coals. Dear me, what a world of trouble this is." "Well, ma, I don't reckon there 's any thing very bal going on this time. I 'm sure pa has been pleasant enough all the morning." 44 Nanny, you don't know your father is well as I do. He 's very peculiar about such things. If he 's fretted about any thing, and don't want me to see it, he always puts on just that way. I see through it, though. I have n't lived nigh twenty-five years with him for nothing. I tell you he's got into a muss somehow. I should n't be in the least surprised to see him brought home a bloody corpse some day. 'T would be just my luck." 44 Sorrow and trouble ! sorrow and trouble!" mumbled the old woman from the corner. "I telled 'em 'twas a comin'." In a brief time the subject of these doleful forebodings arrived with his son at Tom Belcher's store. The number of horses tied to the fence in front, gave token of quite an assemblage within, and they found, on entering, that the room was full ; full not only of men, but of smoke and the fumes of whisky, for Belcher had orders to put a barrel on tap. Such an event was never known to fail to fill his store, with a crowd in the interest of the man who paid the bill, from time immemorial. It is even rumored that Catlett once advised a Methodist preacher, who came to hold a series of meetings in the neighborhood, which were thinly attended, just to take one of his barrels of whisky to the ground, and tap it, and if it would n't draw him a crowd, he might set him (Catlett) down for a fool B O R D 15 R E U S TO THE RESCUE. 123 " And," says he, " as I 'in favorable to religion, I don't care if I throw in the liquor to help on the good cause." There was an immense stamping, and clapping of hands, and hurraing, when Catlett and Dave entered. " Halloa, squire ! you 're the man appointed to address this meeting, Turner says. Go it, old hoss ! we are ready," says Belcher. u Had n't we better organize ?" said a voice in the cor- ner. " I likes to see things done constitutional. I nomi- nates T. Belcher, Esq., as chairman of this meetin'. Gen- tlemen, as many as in favor, say Ay." All sang out "Ay!" "Contrary minds the same sign." "Ay!" they roared again. " It 's a unanimous vote." Mr. T. Belcher took the chair amid thunders of applause, placing a box on the counter, and squatting on it. " Now we are ready for your speech, Catlett," says the chairman. " A secretary first," bawled the constitutional man. " I nom- inates Tom Walton." " Have him ?" The store roared with the yells "Tom! you're it! You'll find pen and paper out there by the desk." " Now, Mack, confound you ! if you 've any thing else constitutional, out with it, for we want to do all that up now and hear the squire." " All right now ! let him fire !' " Hold on a bit, squire," said the chairman, " I in aa thirsty as the devil ! Hand up the mug there." " Had n't we all better liquor round, to kinder get into a glow first ?" said one. " Second the motion !" said a man, out at the elbows who was already holding on to the counter for support. " Hain't you got another mug, Tom ? We are con- suming time this w r ay." " It 's whisky we are consuming !" said the out-of-elbow roan, " or you need n't trust my gullet any more." 124 WESTERN BORDER LIFE. u Come, come, gentlemen !" said constitutional Mack, " I call you to order !" "Order! order! order!" roared the crowd. Tom Belcher here resumed the reins. u Now, gentlemen, we are all ready, let's hear the quire clear through, and drink no more whisky till he 'a done, if we die for 't." " Agreed ! agreed !" cried the crowd. Here Catlett arose amid deafening shouts. " Fellow-citizens, and neighbors I appear before you as the representative of three honored gentlemen of La Bella Prairie, Joe Turner, Tom Walton, and my humble self, to present a cause which I know will stir the inmost recesses of your souls, and rouse you up to deeds of glory. 1 will be short, and tell the plain facts, which, if I mistake not, will thrill your spirits, animate your hearts, and and make your hair stand on eend ! u You know, fellow-citizens, that Turner, Tom, and I have been over in Kanzas (great sensation), looking out peaceful homes for our children. . Fellow-citizens,! selected a spot, and Tom, as he will testify, nailed my claim to a tree. We traveled all over Kanzas for weeks, and on returning found that some daring rapscallion of an abolitionist had torn down the writing and scattered it in pieces to the winds of heaven. Friends and neighbors, imagine the feelings of grief and indignation that swelled our hearts as we surveyed the relics of this damning deed (immense sensation). As we stood in wonder hoping to light upon the scalawag, behold, there rvshed forth upon us, a dozen stout abolition devils, armed to the teeth, and with hellish shouts, pitched into us pell-mell. Fellow-citizens, it were vain to attempt a description of the scene which followed. I upset two, Turner knocked down several, and Tom drove his charger over a gang, but they were too many BOBDEBBBS TO THE BESOUE. 125 for us, and had they been good shots, your friends and neighbors would not be here to-day to recite the story of their wrongs. Behold this hat ! see where the villains' bullet went through ! (yells and groans mingled with cries of shoot the devils ! hang 'em ! roast 'em alive ! etc., etc.) And now, my friends, we appeal to you. Will you rest content while such murderous villains are threatening the lives and insulting the rights of your fellow-citizens? Will you stand tamely by and see our claimys destroyed, our sacred rights invaded, and and our hats punched with bullet holes ? Will you, I say ? (Tremendous sensation.) Come, then, return with us in a body, break up their set* tlement, burn their cabins, and drive them, at least, a hun- dred miles into the wilderness. I appeal to you, noble sons of Missouri, and will only add, that Turner, Tom, and I will pay the liquor." " We '11 go !" " Hang the devils !" " Set me down for one! 5 ' "Oaths!" " Big words!" U A little more li- quor !" " Open the enlistment books !" " Shoot 'em !" " Hurrah for Catlett !" " We '11 fight for you, old hoss !" " No shirking !" " Stand fast !" and general noise and excitement followed this speech. When at last order was restored, the constitutional Mr. Mack rose to offer the following resolutions : " A drink round first ! The squire's speech was dry no, I was dry !" " Yes, a drink round, that 's the talk." So round went the mug. When all was done, u Now," says Belcher, " speak up, Mack." " You ain't quite constitutional in your way, Belcher. However, never mind. I move the following resolutions : " JZesolued) That the outrageous attack by abolition meddlers upon our fellow-citizens, peaceably exploring Kanzas, rouses our highest indignation, and regard fof our own safety, and the safety of our wives and children, 126 WESTER'N BORDER LIFE. impel us to unite our hearts and hands for the commou safety, and that we pledge ourselves to expel these invad- ers from our borders. " Resolved, That Tom Belcher's be the rendezvous for all our citizens on the morning of the fifteenth, who shall then and there appear, armed and equipped for service, and that Col. Joe Turner be appointed commander to the expedition. " Resolve^ That a call to arms and a notice of this gath- ering shall be nailed up in Belcher's store." " Them's urn." " Mack knows." " Put 'em, Belcher ! " Ay ! we are ready." " Go it." " Them in favor, say Ay!" " Ay !" roared the gang with an unearthly sound. " Now let 's liquor round and adjourn," said the out-of- elbow man. " Agreed," cried the lot ; and the door opened and Catlett and his son emerged into tbe open air- Neither of them had drank too much. CHAPTER XII. KANZAS'S FIRST MARTYR. AT length the sun of the fifteenth of October, which was to become as famous to the people of La Belle Prairie as the sun of Austerlitz, dawned upon that quiet settle- ment. Early in the morning, a barrel of whisky had been rolled out by Belcher, and placed in a convenient spot, with the mug under it for general use. Scarcely had this task been accomplished, when a customer for the first dram, in the shape of a man, with an old knapsack and battered drum, came swaggering up to the spot. "Ho! Jenkins, it's you, is it; first on the ground? Well, you '11 do for the music, to say nothing about such chaps as you being good food for powder." u I say, Belcher, you 'd best let a feller alone, when he 'a come to do you a good turn. I vow, if it ain't mean the worst way, to begin in that style," said the man, growling out his words with catched breath, as though restraining his passion through fear. 4; Never mind, Jenks, don't get touchy now, there 's no haim done. Just take another drink, and come into the porch. It's prime whisky, real first brand. Tell you what, Jenks, the gentlemen of La Belle Prairie don't do fchi>igs by halves." * Humph !" said the man. i iarcely were they seated, ere another and another 128 WESTERN BORDER LIFE. came straggling along, and soon a little crowd gathered around the center of attraction, the whisky-barrel, shout- ing, gesticulating, and preparing themselves, after the most approved fashion in those parts, for the day's work. At length, when about thirty had appeared on parade, Dave and Catlett came galloping down the road, upon their best horses, and a moment after, Col. Joe Turner, mounted in like manner, made his appearance. After some general talk and bluster, which occupied at least half an hour, the colonel tapped Catlett on the shoulder. " Come, squire, we ought to be on the move," he said. u We 've got a long day's work before us at the shortest, and if that sprig of a Torn would only come on, I 'd just form a line and commence the march. Loitering ain't going to be the thing to-day." " Are the wagons ready for the poor devils on foot, Jenkins the drummer, and the whisky ?" " All here, and the barrels in," sung out Belcher. " Let 's be off, then," said Catlett, " Tom can chase us with his Arabian high-flyer. I would n't wait another minute." " Beat the muster-call, Tim," said the colonel, and draw- ing his rusty sword, a relic of the Revolution in old Vir- giny, which had descended as an heir-loom in the family, and was said to have been the one that Cornwallis sur- rendered at Yorktown ; -drawing this famous sword, as he gave orders to the music, he rode off in fine style, in his old regimentals, and the plume of his chapeau, dilapidated by the ravages of time, waved, that is what was lefl of it, in the wind. " Bravo !" cried the squire, and there was a universal shout. After forming the line and taking the roll, the colonel made preparations for starting. Filling two wag- KANZAS'S FIRST MARTYR. 129 ons with four or five of the poor devils on foot, as he sig- nificantly called them, with a barrel of whisky in each wagon, he placed them behind to take the dust. The gents on horseback were marshaled in front, and all being ready, our colonel commanded Jenkins to strike up " Yankee Doodle," and off moved the cavalcade to the scene of conflict. Never was there a more determined Bet of men. Col. Joe did not inventory himself a penny below Caesar or Napoleon, as he played his military antics on his charger, with drawn sword, while his noble band, stimulated by the whisky and their own passions, stood ready to back him in any exploit of valor. Thus, in military glory, rode on this great expedition of all the prairie, with a white skin, including "tag rag and bob-tail," to attack, as they supposed, a dozen Yan- kees, but as we, and the valiant leaders know, a Yankee and a half. Let not the reader suppose that, ludicrous as the whole pro- ject thus far appears, there may not be some sad work before it is completed. This reckless, half tipsy gang will hardly return to their homes until mishief is accomplished ; and if among them all there be found a heart with some kindly sympathies remaining, it may find cause before night to beat with sorrow and shame, for the cowardly deeds that are done. Methinks I see grinning devils hovering over those whisky barrels, giving each other, now and then, a chuck in the ribs, and writhing and twist- ing about with suppressed laughter, while the image of a death's head seems to play along the line of the cavalcade. Crossing the ferry, a few miles from Belcher's, on they moved with bluster, and fume, and swell, and oaths, and whisky, through the quiet and peaceful fields of Kanzas, toward Catlett's claim. Tom Walton came galloping up to them in an hour's time, crying out 6* 130 WESTERN BOEDER LIFE. " No you don't ; I would n't miss being in this fray for any money whatever." Tom knew the strength of the foe. What this party said during the hours which elapsed till they arrived within half a mile of the claim, is of no kind of consequence to any mortal man, nor is it in any degree ^ssential to our history. Indeed, one good at guessing could not get far out of the way, were he to trust to his guess. We hasten on our narrative, then, to this very spot. Excited by drinking, and frantic with the rage of their fierce words, up rode the party to their work, which neither Catlett, Dave, Turner, nor Tom had expected to be such as it proved to be. They hoped to frighten the Yankee off the premises, and take quiet possession with- out violence. "Attention the whole!" cried the colonel; "halt! Yonder comes somebody quite a distance off. We must surround him, and take him prisoner. Understand ? Don't a man of you fire. Surround him. That's it, ain't it, Catlett." " To be sure. Perhaps it 's one of the gang, and we can get something out of him. Move ahead, Turner. Do you hear ?" " Forward," said the colonel. " Jenkins, no music." They moved on in silence. The individual whom the colonel's sharp eyes had first descried, was walking leisurely along, and for some time did not appear to notice them. The place of meeting was an open prairie, with a little slope of woods on one side, and there seemed no retreat except by clear swiftness of foot against twenty good horses. The man, however, ap- parently meditated nothing of the sort, but closing his jack-knife, and throwing down a bit of. vypod he was \\ hit K.ANZAS'8 FIRST MARTYK. 131 tling, he arranged his gun a little more firmly upon his shoulder, and marched boldly forward to meet them. 44 Ho, there you are ! The very chap we are after. You abolition Yankee, what are you about here ?" 44 Going on my own business, with no desire to interfere with yours. So let me pass." 44 No you don't. Come, just take down your weapon. It 's no use, you see. There 's thirty of us at least. We *ve got a little matter to settle with you this fine morning, and if you give us any of your impudence, we '11 jiake mince-meat of you. Boys, here 's the very fellow that tore down the claim. Surround your prisoner." The drunken squad, with oaths and curses aim*, d at the luckless man, obeyed orders. 44 Now, give me that gun." He allowed himself to be disarmed, for resistance with the present odds against him, would have been sheer madness. 44 Now," said Catlett, stepping forward, " you are on my claim. You remember the squabble we had hjre^ about a week ago. I told you then I 'd bring you to teims. Now jest look here. I want you to promise to leave t'.*ese parts, bag and baggage, before sundown to-night. Do you hear ? I ain't jokin, neither. If you can do it q net, why well and good. I don't want a row about it. If you can't, there are them to back me who would n't mind Seat- ing you to a jelly, and stringing you up like an aco : a on yonder tree. Will you go ?" 44 My family are here for the winter, and I can not go," sail the man, firmly. 44 But don't you see that we can make you go, yea in* fernal, obstinate Yankee ?" 44 You can murder me in cold blood," was the reply- and it was given in as steady a voice as though th 132 WESTERN BORDER LIFE. speaker had twenty stout men, instead of his single arm, to back it " but I will never consent to be driven off my own land by a set of lawless drunken ruffians." " Do you hear that ?" " Have at the rascal ! " Stop his impudence !" " Pitch into him, boys !" " We '11 teach him !" These exclamations, mingled with oaths and curses, were heard on every side, and the crowd pushing forward, pressed close upon the prisoner. " Hold on, boys ! Keep off, can't you ?" cried Catlelt. "Stop 'em, Turner, they'll finish the fellow!" It was too late. On some fancied provocation, Tim Jenkins, the drummer, hit the man with his drum-stick, and received a blow in return that leveled him to the earth. This was the signal for a general melee. They sprang upon him, striking him with the butt ends of their guns and pistols, pounding, kicking, and battering him in the most brutal manner. Blood flowed freely, and the sight of it seemed only to rouse them to fresh fury. cr Make a clean job of it !" cried one in the crowd. "Put him through! Stop the devil's mouth!" At length some one plunged a bowie-knife in the victim's side, and the job seeming to be finished, the rest desisted from their labor. Both Catlett and Turner failed in all efforts to control the mob. Drunk and furious, they dis~ obeyed orders ; and then rushed to the whisky barrels, and betook themselves to the liquor. "That's carrying it a little too far, Catlett," said Trarner. " The poor fellow 's done for, sure." "No, no, there's life in him yet. Don't you see he breathes. What in thunder shall we do with him ? Does any body know where his cabin is ?" " It 's right down yonder slope," said one. " Don't you see the smoke above the trees ?" " Take hold, then, some of you," and two or three of the KANZAS'S FIRST MAKTYB. 133 men taking up the senseless body of their victim, bore him down the slope to his cabin, Catlett and Turner lead- ing the way. His wife met them at the door. She held an infant in her arms, while two or three rosy children clung to her skirts, and peered shyly out at the strangers. The poor woman uttered a single exclamation of grief and horror, as the body of her husband was thrown .down at her feet, and then kneeling beside him, she laid his head tenderly in her lap, wiping the blood from his face, and striving with her apron to stanch his bleeding wounds. As her hot tears rained upon his face, the dying man opened his eyes. " O, John, speak to me !" she cried. " Who has used you so ? Can nothing be done ?" He shook his head feebly, and then raising himself for a last effort, exclaimed, " They murdered me like cowards !" and sinking back fn her arms, immediately expired. For a moment there was perfect stillness in the room. Even the hardened ruffians, who with oaths, and laughter, and drunken jests, had borne the murdered man to his own hearth-stone, were suddenly sobered, and with half- ashamed faces, peered in at the doorway, while Catlett and Turner in the foreground, surveyed with looks of real compassion the widow of their victim. Save the first glance of eager inquiry on their entrance, she had taken no notice of them, bestowing her whole attention upon her dying husband. Now, however, laying his head gently upon the floor, she rose and stood before them. She was a little woman, pale and meek-eyed, but there was something almost majestic in her manner, as she faced them at this moment. "What are you waiting for ?" she exclaimed fiercely. " Do you want to feast your eyes over the misery you have caused ? Well, take your fill, and then go back and 134 WESTERN BORDER LIFE. tell yonder gang how the widow raved and groaned, and the little children cried over their dead father. It's a noble thing you men have been doing to-day, is n't it ? Go back to your homes to-night, and when your wife sits by your fireside, and your children clamber on your knees, tell them how you have made one hearth desolate, a wife a widow, and four little ones fatherless. Look at him ! You 've nothing to fear from him now. Come and take possession of his lands, nobody will hinder you but mark me, they '11 never bring you any good, for the curse of the widow and the orphan will rest on them. Yes, I call God to witness, that I would rather be he that lies there stark and dead, than the man, whoever he is, that has bought this land at the price of his blood ! You do well to cry, poor brat, the Lord only knows what will be- come of us." " For heaven's sake come away, Turner, I can't stand this nohow," said Catlett. " Now then, where 's the rest of 'em ? Show us the Yankees. It takes us to do the business !" cried the crowd, as their leaders returned. " Wnat 's the next word of command, captain ?" " Home !" said Catlett, gruffly. " You 've done full enough work for one day. Hang it, Turner, that woman's curses ring in my ears yet." With shouts, and roars, and ribald jokes, the drunken mob returned to La Belle Prairie, but the instigators of the invasion were not quite so exultant over the victory as they had anticipated. The still hours of the morning of the holy Sabbath had come, before Colonel Turner disbanded his troop. CHAPTER XIII. SUNDAY AT LA BELLE P R A I R I E. SUNDAY was a great day at La Belle Prairie. Mrs. Catlett liked it, because the house servants did their work better and quicker on that day than any other, in order to be released the sooner, and in consequence there was less scolding and fretting to be done. Nanny and 'Ria liked it, because pa and Dave were most sure to bring some gentlemen home to dine, and Mr. Turner or Mr. Mack occasionally rode home from church with the young la- dies themselves. The children liked it, because on that day there was no school ; they were dressed in their best frocks, and had cake or pie at dinner an unusual thing during the week. But better than all the rest, the servants liked this day of rest, for, with the exception of the house servants, they were entirely released from work, and had the whole day at their own disposal. Three or four of the women had husbands belonging on neighboring farms, and these came regularly on Saturday night to spend Sunday with their wives and children, often bringing with them some article of furniture they had fashioned with their own hands, after work hours, for the adornment of the cabin, or a bright ribbon or a new turban, bought with money earned after their regular day's work was over. These last were displayed with great pride the next day at meeting for 136 WESTERN BORDER LIFE. with one or two exceptions, they all attended a religious service held in a neighboring grove, where Uncle Caesar, a venerable old negro on Massa Turner's place, officiated as preacher. This once over, however, all religious observance of the day was at an end, and while the men with all the loose change in their pockets that they could muster, went over the prairie to the store, or down the creek to Car- tersville, at both which places whisky could be procured^ the women spent the afternoon in visiting, or in sunning themselves at the door of their cabins. Occasionally a little group gathered round Aunt Phebe's chair to hear her earnest exhortations, for she was always ready to talk if any would listen, and even sometimes had been known to preach a sermon to an imaginary audience of her own. Many a good discourse had she given her fellow-servants, sitting in her arm-chair at the cabin door ; " Uncle Caesar himself could n't lay it off better," they declared ; but notwithstanding the love and respect they all bore to Aunt Phebe, one meeting a day was quite as much as they could bear, and they generally preferred to stroll off to some neighboring farm, to talk over the news, and display some new article of finery, or rest them- selves at home. So Aunt Phebe was usually left alone in her arm-chair, and with her eyes half closed and an expression of perfect content resting upon her shining black face, she would spend the day in the happiest manner. Occasionally she would break forth into one of the camp-meeting hymns Bhe so delighted to sing, and pause between the verses, to meditate upon the glories therein described, often sinking back in a kind of silent ecstasy, when, as she declared, it was all glory ! glory ! One hymn in particular, commenc- ing, "Is th^re B,ny body here agoin' my way," that in tif SUNDAY AT LA BELLE PRAIRIE. 137 teen or twenty stanzas, follows the Christian pilgrim through all the difficulties and dangers of his path, and n'nally lands him safe on Canaan's shore, was her favorite Sunday hymn. She would sing it to its close, and by the time she reached the last stanza, where, after struggling long in the " dark river," he is led up the bank by u spir- its robed in white," her soul would be filled with rapture, and with her hands clasped and the tears streaming down ber cheeks, she would sing : " bless de Lord, I 's got ray crown, Sing, Glory, Hallelujah I I '11 shout among de angels, Hallelujah ! I'll shout among de angels, Haileluyahl" Such seasons Aunt Phebe dwelt upon afterward, with great pleasure. " I 's had a rneetin' all to myse'f, chil'en," she would say, " me and de Lord. O it 's jest a little tasta ob what's to come!" When the shadows lay long on the grass, in little com- panies of twos and threes, the men came straggling home. Their uncertain gait, their loud voices, and rude laughter, their whole demeanor, so different from their usual quiet submissive bearing, all told of the day's carousal. With empty pockets, and full heads, most of them returned to the scene of their weekly toil. Sunday was emphatically their day. Mr. Catlett had nothing to do with his hands on the Sabbath, and whether they spent it in beastly intoxi- cation, or in order to earn a few bits for themselves, hired out to some neighboring farmer for there are men wicked enough to tempt the poor slave to labor on the Lord's day it was no concern of his. Only in one particular did he exercise his authority. It was frequently the case that under the influence of the whisky they drank, the men became exceedingly quarrelsome, and a fight in the yard 138 WESTERN BORDER LIFE. was not an unusual event on a Sunday night. This would not answer, for their fighting, unlike their work, was not done by halves, and Mr. Catlett would find, perhaps, on Monday morning, one or two of his best hands missing, and on inquiry would ascertain that they were laid up in consequence of last night's pummeling. All fighting was accordingly forbidden on "the place, and when the order was disobeyed, Mr. Catlett or Dave would step out, and mark the offenders, \vho received their punishment the next morning. Mr. Catlett prided himself on being a very lenient mas- ter. His men had full liberty to drink whisky to any ex- tent, provided they could find the wherewith to obtain it. They might curse and blaspheme in his presence without reproof, or indulge in any kind of wickedness that did not interfere with his profit ; but when any indulgence unfit- ted them for his service, this was quite another thing, and must be attended to at once. So passed Sunday at the quarters. " Ebery one ob yer get up," was Viny's usual salutation to the sleepers up stairs, on a Sunday morning. "Dar's heaps to do afore meetin' time. Better be 'bout it, I reckon." " O Viny, is it Sunday sure enough ?" says one. " Does the sun shine, and can we go to church ?" says another ; while even little Johnny rejoiced in its being " preaching day," because. he could " ride along with pa on Prince." If Viny ever fretted, or lost her temper at any thing, Sunday morning would be the time ; for what with run- ning hither and thither, curling Nanny's hair, hooking 'liia's tight gowns, and tying the children's shoe-strings, no chambermaid in a steamboat, in a storm, ever had a harder time to wait on her charge. But Viny's patience was inexhaustible. She took her own time for every SUNDAY AT LA BELLE PRAIRIE. 139 thing, and while half a dozen voices were calling her in as many different directions, she kept coolly on with what she was about, laughed, till her gums were visible, at Miss Nanny's scoldings, pinched 'Ria's fat neck as she fastened her dress, and good naturedly received all the kicks Johnny chose to bestow, because his new boots happened to pinch his toes. Below, Mr. Catlett got out the six-inch mirror, the larg- est the house contained, and commenced taking off his week's growth of beard, this being a lengthy operation, for which he could better spare the time on Sunday morn- ing than any other, while Mrs. Catlett lounged about, super- intending the arrangements for an early breakfast. This over, the horses are geared, and preparations made for starting for church. First, the big wagon, drawn by two of the steadiest farm-horses, drives up to the door, and into this the children clamber, a black boy, with his hat set jauntily on one side of his head, and rejoicing in numberless little tails of braided wool, acting as driver. This once off, at a good steady jog, the horses, one by one, are led up to the horse-block, Dave assisting Nanny, 'Ria, and Joy to mount ; and springing upon his own beautiful gray, they all canter slowly down the lane. Down the lane, and across the prairie, with its long grass waving in the wind, into the still woods, under the shade of the maples and oaks, past one or two clearings, where the monarchs of the wood have been lately laid low, and the ground is yet black and dry from tho effects of the fire, along a path that leads up the side of Oak hill, and finally brings them to its summit, where stands La Belle Church. A space had been cleared to make roono for the little unobtrusive building that bears this high sounding name. About the door, and under the shade of the trees, stand groups of children and young people, 110 WESTERN BORDER LIFE. for many a pleasant meeting have they Sunday mornings here; and .it is a common saying on the prairie, that more matches are made at La Belle Church than any- where else. Dismounting at the horse-block, the ladies divest themselves of their long riding skirts, and thick gloves, and join the group under the trees, while up the hill side come the little children on foot, the path being too steep for wagons to ascend. It was fashionable to attend church at La Belle Prairie. A colony of families, who twelve years before moved from a town near Richmond, Virginia, brought with them their church-going habits, and in the course of a year or two, organized a church, and built a place of worship. Though not as wealthy as many of the old settlers, they were in- fluential people in their way, and before long it became quite the custom to attend church on the Sabbath. This practice did not in the least interfere with the dinner par- ties which were given on that day, for as but one service was held, and this in the morning, it was very convenient to ride immediately home from church with a few friends to dinner, and to spend the afternoon in chatting with the young gentlemen, in talking politics, or in rambling over each other's farms, to witness the progress of the crops. 'There was no bell upon the church, and indeed none was necessary, for the people well understood that when the preacher came it was time to commence, and no sooner did his shaggy sorrel colt appear ascending the hill, than there was a general rush for the door, and by the time he entered, the people were mostly in their seats. " John Carlton the preacher," as he was usually called, was born and brought up on the prairie. His father died while he was yet a boy, leaving him possessed of a large property, and a spirit as wild and untamable as ever brought grief to a parent's heart. For many years he SUNDAY AT L A BELLE 1' U A I R I E . 141 was known as the worst young fellow in a very bad neigh- borhood, a sort of ring-leader in every drinking frolic, gambling scrape, and horse-race. His way of lite broke his mother's heart, and her last breath was spent in en- treating him to repent, and become a better man. Though for a time her death appeared to produce no effect, except to make him if possible more wild and reckless than before ; yei her earnest prayers were answered at last. Singularly enough, he received his first religious impressions at the theater, passed through days and weeks of agonizing con- viction, and finally found peace in believing. He had re- ceived a college education, and instantly resolved to de- vote himself to the work of the ministry, and return and labor among his old companions. So here in the little church on the hill he ministered from Sabbath to Sabbath, and during the week traveled miles and miles into the country, preaching in groves, and log-houses, and wherever he could find people to hear. And those who heard John Carlton once, were very apt to come again. There was an earnestness and power about his preaching, rude and uncultivated though it was, that found its way to the heart. Nor was it strange, for with his whole soul in the work, he preached what he believed, and preached it so earnestly, that his hearers for the time being were constrained to believe it too. He seemed like one who, just escaped from some imminent peril, endeavors by warnings and entreaties, co save his friends and neighbors ,from a like danger. " He has a way of piiin' up the horrors," said Catlett, " that makes a feller crawl all over." The earnestness of his gestures went far toward fixing the attention of his hearers. Tall and sallow, his black hair already tinged with gray, and his eye so sharp and piercing that you involuntarily dropped your own before it; he was a striking figure iu 142 WESTERN BORDER LIFE. the pnlpit, and when roused with his subject, his words came thick and fast, and he threw his arms wildly about; there were times when women fainted and strong men sobbed aloud. To-day his subject was "Remorse," and as he thus de- scribed its workings in the sinner's soul, it was observed that Jack Catlett gave more than ordinary attention : " Look at the last hours of such a man. Health, repu- tation, character, all buried in a grave of his own digging, an old man before his prime, with a worn-out body and a ruined soul, wearied and disgusted with the world, and having drained the cup of sin to its very dregs, he has filled up the full measure of his iniquities, and lays himself down to die. Then Remorse seizes its victim. Not for the first time. No sinner, I care not how reckless he may be, or how seared as with a red-hot iron his conscience has become, but feels at times the gnawings of that worm that shall torment him through all eternity. There are moments when he must think, when the tormentor within will not remain torpid, and when in the midst of his rev- elry and drunkenness, he shudders and turns pale, as he feels it struggling and writhing in his bosom. " He may plunge deeper into dissipation. He may pour down draught after draught of liquid fire, he may smother it in worldliness, or stupefy it by drunkenness, but it will not die. It lies there coiled up in his very heart, growing stronger every day, while he piles up sin upon sin, sin upon sin, for it to feed upon through endless ages. There was a way by which it might have been destroyed. The blood of Christ alone could take away its sting; but this he has trampled under foot; he has crucified his Saviour, he has blasphemed his God, and hell has already commenced in his wretched soul. "His bosom-fiend rouses itself to full activity. He feels SUNDAY AT LA BELLE PRAIRIE. 143 its slimy folds, drawing closer and closer round his heart; and its sharp fangs quickly eating through the crust of pride and self-confidence with which he has enfolded it, are now tearing away at the very vitals. His body is all weakness and pain, but his soul is strong to suffer, mighty to endure. His neglected powers of mind, all aid in his torture. Memory recalls the days of his childhood ; his first open sin, his neglect of his pious mother's prayers and entreaties, his misspent hours, his broken Sabbaths, his oaths and blasphemies against his God, all ri&e up in judgment against him. The still small voice of Coii^cience, long silenced but not dead, whispers its reproaches, re- minds him of its faithful warnings, its unheeded pricks, and when in his agony he cries out that his punishment is greater than he can bear, Reason tells him that it i&yust. If Hope dare to whisper of pardoning mercy, it is silenced by the groan ings of Despair. Too late ! too late ! He believes nothing, he hopes nothing. It is all horror and blackness to look back, and he dare not look forward. He loathes his own being, longs for death and fears to die. " And he feels the worm tugging at his heart. There is a burning within, like a slow consuming fire, a sudden darting anguish as some hidden spot is laid bleeding and bare, and a continual tearing, grinding pain, as it eats its way deeper into his being. No rest night or day. In weary tossings from side to side, his hours are passed, or if he falls into a troubled sleep, he wakes with the drops of anguish on his brow, and cries out, 'It gnaws me! It gnaws me !' " O ! is there no respite for the racked and tortured soul ? Will the worm never cease to writhe, and twist, and gnaw within ? A voice replies to his agonized cry Never ! Nature may sink under the torture. The body may perish, but that which suffers most is immortal, and 144 WESTERN BORDER LIFE. can not die. The wretch in the last extremity of guilt and despair, may seek the suicide's grave ! he may blow himself to atoms, or bury his carcase in the depths of the sea, he can not escape the fiend in his bosom, or the anger of an insulted God. No need of sulphurous lake, or pit of flaming fire; let but the sinner feel through the ages of eternity, the burning, cankering, gnawing horrors of re- morse, and it will be hell enough for the devil himself ' For their worm dieth not, and their fire is not quenched.' " Do you say that I have overdrawn the picture ; that God is too merciful ever to let a sinner perish so miserably. I tell you that unless ye repent, ye shall all likewise perish. I'C/M, young man and you and you. Let us pray." The various postures assumed by the congregation at La Belle church, would shock tho nerves of a city audience. Every man chose the free and easy posture that pleased him best, stretching himself out at full length ; elevating his heels to the back of the next seat, or sitting upon the back itself, and resting his lower extremities in his neigh- bor's lap. Here and there sat an attentive listener, but as a general thing the air of listlessness and indifference upon most of their faces, presented a strange contrast to the earnestness of the preacher. Now and then a baby squalled, or an urchin " talked out in meetin'," but such occurrences attract little attention in a church " out west," where all the women bring their little ones, whose ac- knowledged right it is to make as much noise as they please. At last the service is over, and the minister passing slowly down the aisle, shakes hands with the old people ; speaks a pleasant word to the young girls, and pats the little children on the head ; then finding his sorrel colt ready for him at the door for John Carlton is a great favorite with the young men, and there are plenty to 'do 8 U y I) A Y AT LA BELLE PRAIRIE. 1 45 this little service for him he mounts and picks his way clown the hill. Now conies the most exciting moment to the young ladies, for while the old folks are exchanging scraps of gossip and invitations to dinner, the young men select the ladies of their choice, and request permission to escort them home. There are the same heart fluttering?, and petty triumphs, and jealousies here in this wild spot, as in the busy walks of city life, only conducted upon a smaller scale, and concealed with less art. At length the decis- ions are all made, group after group depart, their voices grow fainter as they descend the slope, and presently the little church on Oak Hill is silent and deserted. " There, Mr. Catlett, see that, will you ?" said his vdfe, turning half round in her saddle to get a better view he/self. "See what? Mr. Tom Walton ridin' home with the teacher, and our Nanny taggin' on behind?" said her hus- band. " No, no. Don't you see Dave waitin' on Boss Gamby ? I always did think Dave was smart." " Well, I don't see how he shows his smartnes? by pick in' out the ugliest-lookin' girl on the prairie." "How stupid you are, Mr. Catlett. I'm sure she looks well enough. A little ' dutchy,' mebbe, but that 's noth- ing. I tell you what, it would be the luckiest thing we ever did do, takin' those girls into school, if something should happen." u The Lord preserve us ! if the women ain't hatchin' up a plot. You and Madam Gamby have been puttin' your wise heads together, I reckon, and have got it all cut and dried." " Well, you may laugh, Mr. Catlett, but I t*ll you Dave could n't do a better thing for himself, and it 's my opinion he sees H too." n 146 WESTERN BORDER LIFE. "She's as ugly as thunder," said Mr. Catlett, "and as dull as ray old jack-knife." " She '11 own as pretty a piece of land as there is on the prairie, and a dozen good hands to work it," saii his wife. " Hang the land !" rejoined Mr. Catlett. " / man rnaj liave too much of that for his peace of mind." CHAPTER XI?. AN INTERLUDE. ONE evening, a few weeks after Fanny's introduction to Mr. Catlett's family, three persons were seated in the back parlor of an elegant mansion on street, St. Louis, occupied by Judge Stanton of that city. One of these persons was the judge himself, a middle- aged gentleman of commanding appearance, who, seated at the table with pencil in hand, and a small outline map before him, was pointing out various localities with great minuteness to a gentleman looking over his shoulder. A young lady, dressed in the height of the fashion, was seated opposite, engaged in some fancy work, that dis- played the whiteness of her hands to great advantage. She was a showy genteel-looking girl, with dark eyes, and a quantity of luxuriant hair, arranged in heavy braids about her well-formed head. "And so you are really going to that barbarous place, Mr. Chester," she said, as soon as a pause occurred in the conversation between the two gentlemen. u lt's too bad of you, to run off in the height of the season, when our circle is so small, and we can not afford to lose one." The young man looked up. " You flatter me," he said with a smile. " I fancy the vacancy I shall leave will be easily filled. Besides, I don't 148 WESTERN BORDER LIFE. intend to exile myself for any length of time. Two or three \\eeksat furthest will finish up this complicated busi- ness, and that ended, I shall turn my face homeward with a right good will." "Ah, but two or three weeks c up the country' Mr. Chester! You have n't the least idea how wearily they will c drag their slow length along.' I forewarn you that you will nearly perish with the cold, besides half dying with ennui. O, I don't know what would tempt me to spend two or three weeks at cousin Jack's in the month of November." " Nonsense, Julia," said the judge, "you talk as though we were sending Mr. Chester among barbarians, and not to our own kith and kin. Cousin Caroline will give him a good Virginia welcome, and make him as comfortable as she can, and if his quarters are not quite as snug as his bachelor establishment in town, it won't hurt him. -When I was in my prime as you are, Harry Chester, I spent many a night on the open prairies of Missouri, and felt the better for it, too." The young man smiled. " I have been tossed about enough for the last ten or fifteen years, sir," he said, "to know a little of the rough- and-tumble of life, but I anticipate nothing unpleasant in your cousin's family, except my own reluctance as a stranger to trespass so long upon their hospitality." " Pooh ! pooh ! Have n't you seen enough of a Vir- ginia gentleman to know that you can not do him a greater kindness than by becoming his guest ? Why, you might stay a year at Cousin Jack's, and not wear out your welcome. There 's always room in that house for one more, and when they ask you to come again, they mean it. It will be a work of charity to go." "Papa is right, there," said the young lady. "Any AN INTERLUDE. 149 thing to break up the dreadful monotony of such a life as they lead, must indeed be a blessing. Your visit will give cousin Nanny something to talk about for an in- definite period of time to come. A real live beau from town will be quite an event on the prairie. By-the-way, Mr. Chester, I beg you won't be led captive by the charms of my sweet unsophisticated country cousin." This was said with the least bit of irony in the tone. "Never fear, Julia," said the judge, "Mr. Chester is too great a favorite with you city tulips, to waste his am- munition on a simple prairie flower hey, Harry ?" " Well, sir, I shall endeavor to withstand the tempta tation in either case, provided there is any occasion. The law is my only mistress at present, and demands such de- voted attention as to leave me little time, even if I had the disposition, to seek another." " Just hear him, papa. Was ever any thing so coolly spoken. To tell a lady to her face that he prefers those dry, stupid law books to the delights of female society. He deserves just what he is going to get, complete ban- ishment." "Spare me, I beg," said Mr. Chester, with uplifted hands. " I intended no such dreadful inference, or if my unfortunate remark must be so construed, I appeal to the judge to say whether my frequent visits here do not prove that my practice does not agree with my profes- sion." The judge laughingly assented, and the young lady blushed. "Now, then, let us have some music, and send this gentleman home," said the judge. " You have a long ride before you reach La Belle Prairie, Harry." "Papa," inquired Miss Julia, throwing herself upon the sofa after the visitor had departed, " do you know any- 150 WESTERN BORDER LIFE. thing about Harry Chester's early history ? Ho spoke to- night as though he had seen hard times." " Well, I suppose he has," said the judge. " Any man who makes himself, has a hard time of it, but all the more credit to him if he gets to the top of the ladder. Harry Chester began at the first round, and if he goes on as he has commenced, there 's no telling where he will stop." " He seems to be a great favorite of yours, papa. Did he tell you all this himself ?" " Not he. He has too much good sense to intrude his private concerns upon other people. Squire Patsley, of Philadelphia, told me about the young man when he first came to St. Louis three years ago. It seems he was brought up to expect a fortune from an old gentleman, who adopted him when he was quite a boy, but just after he entered college the old fellow died without a will, and the whole of it went to half a dozen nieces or some other relations. How he managed to get through college, or study his profession, I don't know, but he did do it, and has as fair a practice now as any young lawyer in the city. These are the kind of men who make something." " Well, I don't see why you must send him 'way up the country, papa, to collect debts and what not. If he is such a nice young man we want to keep him here." " Because he can attend to the business just as well as I can, and see to that case in court at at the same time. A good clear head for business he has too," said th 3 judge. "I liked the way he took hold of that case. A promising young man! a very promising young man!" CHAPTER XT. CROSSING THE RUBICON. ItL BELLE CREEK, was the name of a small stream, which winding through the patch of low marshy ground skirting the prairie, finally emptied itself into the muddy waters of the Missouri. Its banks were thickly covered with a growth of underbrush, and shaded by trees, that even in winter shut out the full rays of the sun, and when in foliage, cast a dense shadow upon the water beneath. A rude bridge, constructed of logs, crossed the stream at a point where the road led down to its banks, but the fre- quent freshets had long since carried off its main supports, leaving it impassable except to foot passengers. A tree had also contributed to its destruction, falling directly across it, and crushing one end nearly down to the water's edge. Upon the seat thus formed, Fanny Hunter reclined one mild day in November, gazing listlessly into the dark water beneath, and now and then lifting her eyes with an ex- pectant glance, to a narrow footpath leading into the thicket on the other side. In her hand she held a bunch of myrtle leaves ; their glossy greenness contrasting beau- tifully with the bright scarlet of a few berries clinging to a withered stem. It was in search of more that Fanny's companion had just left her, pleased with the admiration her teacher expressed at the few, and saying that sho knew of" a heap yonder in the thicket. If Miss Fanny 152 WESTERN BORDER LIFE. would wait a minute on the old bridge she would fetch them directly." They had taken a long ramble since four o'clock, and Fanny was but too glad to rest a few moments before starting for home. But moment after moment passed, and Maud did not return. The sun had set, and the shadows between the trees grew blacker and blacker. The solitude of the place was oppressive. Fanny began to grow nervous, and called aloud to her companion. There was no answer. She he^'d " big William" on the prairie, calling home the cattle to the milking, and the dis- tant whirring of a flock of partridges, but this was all. To add to her alarm, the sound of a horse's hopfs a moment after struck her ear, apparently coming down the road leading to the creek. Fanny knew that this road had fallen entirely into disuse, the bridge being broken, and the stream impassable at this point. A moment's re- flection dispersed her fears. " It 's only big William hunting up the cattle," she thought to herself. " He will take the path to the thicket, and not see me at all if I sit still." The horseman, however, seemed to have no biich intention, for he appeared a moment after at the summit of the hill, and began slowly to descend. Checking his horse on observing the ruined condition of the bridge, he gazed round him with an air of doubt and perplexity. By the dim light now fading fast away Fanny could not distinguish the stranger's features, but his form was erect, and youthful, and his general appearance that of a gentle- man. Wondering whether she was observed, she sat per- fectly quiet, until after a moment's hesitation, he resumed the descent, having apparently made xip his mind to ford the stream at all hazards, though its angr) appearance, and the swiftness of the current, ought to have convinced him that it was impracticable. CROSSING THE RUBICON. 153 reluctant steed had taken the first step into the x.*ter, and his master was endeavoring to urge him for wnd. when a voice close by exclaimed, " You can't cross here, sir. The ford is further up the Bti earn." The stranger looked up with a start, and beheld a slight, chikdish figure, wrapped in a dark hood and mantle, perched upon the old bridge, nearly above his head. " ifou must turn back," said the soft voice again, " the current here is too rapid." 44 And who are you, little one," said the stranger, " set here to warn belated travelers of the dangers of the way ?" 44 N o matter who I am," said Fanny, " it 's your busi- ness to take my advice and turn back." 44 Bui where am I to go ?" said the young man, in a perplexed tone. " I must cross the creek somewhere to- night, and one place is as bad as another, I suppose." 44 O, no, there is a crossing a little way np the stream, where the water is quite shallow," said Fanny. 44 Ah, well, that will do ; but how shall I find it, my good girl ?" 44 Good girl, indeed !" thought Fanny. 44 What does the man take me to be ?" 44 1 don't know that I can tell you exactly," she said, after a moment's hesitation. " It 's a little below the ben 1, I think no, I 'm wrong, it 's above." 44 Do you know the place ?" 44 Perfectly well." 44 Come, then, you have proved too good a friend thus far, to leave me in the lurch now. If it is n't too far, sup- pose you guide me to the crossing, unless your friends will feel anxious about you," he added. 44 It is late for little ones like you to be out." 44 1 must be remarkably youthful in nay appearance to 7* 154 WESTERN BOEDER LIFE. night," thought Fanny, greatly amused at her adventure. " Well, shall I go with him ? One thing is certain, I 'm safe enough while I keep the creek between us." "Ah, well, never mind," said the stranger, construing her silence into reluctance. " I presume I can find it my- self. Many thanks for your timely warning." " I will show you the way, sir," said Fanny. " Keep close to the bank, and I will walk along on this side of the creek, till we come to the crossing." " You are shy," said the young man ; " well, have it your own way." So saying he turned his horse's head, and Fanny descending from her elevated seat, they com- menced their walk. It was a short one, but she had ample time to plan her escape, for she had no desire to encounter the stranger's closer observation. Accordingly, after indicating the pre- cise spot where he was to cross, she turned and fled with such rapid steps, as to be entirely hidden in the darkness, before the young man discovered her absence. She found Maud waiting for her at the bridge, and only pausing a moment to relate their adventures, they hurried toward home, Fanny requesting her companion not to speak of this meeting unless questioned respecting it. She thought it probable that the stranger she had just aided, was the same Mr. Chester who was expected from St. Louis, and whose visit Nanny had talked about everj day for a week. " We won't let him know, Maud, if we can help it, that it was I who assisted him on his journey; and if we can only get there first, and be sitting by the fire with our bonnets and shawls off, he will never suspect us." So saying, Fanny hastened on, and taking a short cut across the plowed ground, they reached the house just as Martha was bringing in the first plate of batter-cakes CROSSING THE RUBICON. 155 the kitchen. Throwing off her bonnet and shawl, Fanny seated herself at the table, and was quietly sipping her coffee, when a loud barking of the dogs, followed by a knock at the door, announced an arrival. 44 It 's Bob Turner," said Nanny, smoothing her collar, and arranging her hair. " No it ain't, he 's gone to Cartersville," said Dave. "Well, run to the door, David," said Mrs. Catlett, 44 and Marthy, wipe the 'lasses off of Johnny's face. Goodness ! what a looking table." In the midst of the confusion that followed, the visitor entered, and Fanny recognized at a glance the hero of her adventure. Advancing with a free and gentlemanly air, he introduced himself as Mr. Chester, of St. Louis, and receiving a cordial welcome from the family, in five minutes was seated with them at the table. He made himself at home directly, adopting, as Fanny thought with great tact, the frank, jovial manner most pleasing to west- ern people, and well calculated to remove any restraint his presence might have inspired. In the course of the evening, he related his adventure at the bridge, laughingly describing Fanny as some wood- nymph, or spirit, who, after guiding him through the danger, sank into the ground, or suddenly disappeared in some equally mysterious way. 44 She did you a good service, whoever she was," said Dave. " There 's a mighty deep hole just under the bridge, and the current sweeps round it like a whirlpool It 's a plaguy dangerous place, anyhow." "I can't think who it could be," said Miss Nanny. "There's Milly Turner; she lives just over the creek; but they are mighty choice of her, and would n't let her be out after night for any thing, Besides, she 'a a dread 156 WESTERN BOBBER LIFE. ful timid child herself. Do you remember what she looked like, or how she was dressed, Mr. Chester ?" " Not in the least. I only know a little thing hailed me from the top of the bridge, in a voice as low and soft as a silver bell, guided me safe to the landing, flitting through the woods among the trees like a fairy as she was, and when I looked to behold her, lo ! she had vanished into thin air." " Mebbe 't was a spirit," said Maud, with wide open eyes. " There was a man drowned in the creek once, and Aunt Tibby says his ghost comes and walks there nights." " Nonsense, Maud," said Nanny. " Well, I don't car', Aunt Tibby and Uncle Jake saw him one night, when they was comin' home from corn- shuckin'. He had a great club in his hand, and something white over his head." " Yes," said Dave, " a great ghost that. Some thievish nigger comin' home from eorn-stealin'." "Mine was no bad spirit," said Mr. Chester; "of that I am convinced. Its mission was to warn me of hidden dangers, and guide me into safe paths. I should like just such a guardian angel all my life." " Well, it 's a wonder to me who it could be," said Mrs. Catlett. u So let it remain," said the young man ; " I hardly want the mystery explained. I am going to amuse my- self by thinking that a new era has dawned upon me, and that henceforth I am to be attended in all my wanderings by the little fairy sprite, who is only to make herself visi ble in times of great peril and distress." " Now, Miss Fanny," said Nanny, after the visitor had retired for the night, " we shall have somebody to wait on us to church besides Dave. A town gentleman, too, fixed up in his kid gloves and gold chain. Sha'n't we feel crank? CROSSING THE RUBICON. 157 Somehow town gentlemen appear so different from any body round here. What ? s the reason, ma ?" " It 's 'cause they are so fixy, Nan," said Maria, " that 'a all. You and Belle Boynton now will be pullin' caps for the city beau ; but I don't see why he 's any better than Tom Walton or Bob Turner." 44 They are all a set of monkeys," said " Massa Dave," scornfully, "jingling their watch-chains and talking non- bense to the girls. It 's about, all they 're good for, in the long run." " Dave is put out 'cause the town gentleman is so much better lookin' than he is," said Cal. " He 's afraid Misa Fanny will like him best." " Shut up," said her brother, in no very gentle tone. " You children talk too much." " He is mighty good-looking," said Nanny, " and not a bit stuck up for all he was dressed so fine. I felt kinder afraid of him at first ; but, lor, he was just as easy as any of us, a/id hitched his chair up to the fire like he was at home. I reckon we shall have grand times Christinas." CHAPTER XVI. MORE DISTRESS. "Do you ride to-day, Mr. Chester?*' inquired Dave the next morning at breakfast. " Yes, the court meets at . I must be off directly, for it 's quite a ride. Some ten or fifteen miles, I be- lieve." " Well, I '11 go along as far as the store, I reckon ; Marthy, go tell Jake to gear the horses." It was a bright, clear morning, and Fanny stood in the open doorway after the gentlemen had gone, admiring the winter landscape spread out before her. Directly in front, lay the open prairie, its brown surface spotted here and there with groups of cattle turned out every day to pick up what nourishment they could from its dry and scanty grass. On one side, the windings of the creek could be traced, by the row of tall trees that skirted its banks, and on the other, a picturesque-looking log-house, the blue smoke curling from its chimney, relieved the monotony of the scene, and gave token of life and activity in this wild spot. From the wood-lot near the creek, was borne on the Btill air, each stroke of the hewer's ax ; and the bleating of the sheep, and the lowing of the cattle on the prairie, could be distinctly heard. The turkeys, geese, ducks, and guinea-fowls in the yard, kept up a continual clatter, whilo MORE DISTRESS. 15& two or three gaunt hounds lay sunning themselves in the porch and under the eaves of the house. There was some- thing cheerful and invigorating in the scene, and Fanny stood in the doorway till a touch on the arm drew her attention, and, turning round, she perceived black Martha waiting to speak with her. She was a stout, full-grown mulatto girl, on whose good- looking face a smile was generally to be found, and whose musical voice, singing some camp-meeting hymn, or wild negro melody, Fanny had often heard as she sat in school. Like most of the women, she was indolent and careless, but so perfectly good-humored, that all Mrs. Catlett's scolding failed to disturb her equanimity, and her mistress was often more provoked at the stupid unconcern with which she received her severest reprimands, than she would have been had she given a saucy reply. " Yes, Miss Car'line," Martha would say, submissively, and per haps repeat the offense five minutes after. " Well, Martha," said Fanny encouragingly, " what do you want ?'" "Tilla done tell me how Miss Fanny pick her up off de star' t' other night. So good an' kind now, won't think no harm if I ask somfin ?" said Martha. " O, no, Martha. What is it ?" " Miss Fanny, it 's Tilla," said Martha with sudden en- ergy. " 'Pears like I can't live no ways and see de way dey goes on wid dat child. Miss Car'line say she ain't n it was." 4 1 go further than that, and maintain that just so soon "A SOUTH-SIDE VIET* " 269 as the spirit of slavery is changed, and the States begin to legislate for the good of the slave, instead of as now the good of the master, then the institution has received its death-blow. Just so soon as the great northern public sentiment is formed, we shall begin to make laws to pre- sene the family relation, secure education, unlock the Bible, give opportunities for rising in worldly goods, pre- sent inducements to the purchase of freedom ; every ono of which laws, just to the extent of each, abolishes slavery. Then just as the British serf passed into the free citizen, so will the American slave, till at last a universal decree of emancipation shall complete the work." " O let us pray that such a time may come," said Fanny, earnestly. " Not now, Fanny," said the judge, gravely ; " I am opposed to the praying of women in public. Wait till you are alone, if you please." " Why, Judge Stanton, if" Here a servant entered, informing the judge that a gen. tleman was waiting for him at his office, who qu -klj obeyed the summons, leaving Fanny to pray alone. CHAPTER XXVII. MISUNDERSTANDINGS. FANNY'S resolution was faithfully kept. Ko sooner was she convinced by Cousin Julia's hasty words, and Nanny's assertion, that she was the cause of any unpleasant feeling, than her whole course of conduct was changed. She was not one to do any thing by halves, and in her anxiety to con- vince Julia that there were no grounds for her suspicions, she suddenly began to treat Mr. Chester with such cold- ness and formality, as greatly to astonish and perplex him. From a frank, open-hearted girl, in whose eyes he always read a welcome, and whose thoughts he could almost in- terpret in the expressive changes of her features, she all at once became, in his presence, distant and constrained, avoiding his society whenever she decently could, and when, as frequently happened, he would not be put off, but forced her to remain, she seemed to endure, and not as formerly enjoy, his conversation. Once or twice, indeed, she relapsed into her old manner, lifting her eyes frankly to his face, and speaking in her free, open way, but just as he would begin to rejoice in the change, she would seem suddenly to recollect herself, and make up for the relapse, by treating him ten times more stiffly than before. This conduct was so unlike Fanny, that Mr. Chester knew not what to make of it, and though grieved exceed- ingly, it was some time before he became seriously of MISUNDERSTANDINGS. 271 fended. But when it had continued nearly a week, and he could obtain no explanation, though he sought it earn- estly, his spirit was roused, and he determined to make no more efforts to conciliate one who so uniformly treated him with neglect. Fanny had no idea that she was over- doing the matter, or manifesting real unkiridness to one who had shown himself so warm a friend as Harry Chester. She thought only of her own privation when she avoided him, it was so hard to check the kind words she wanted to say, the frank manner she had always used toward him, and ta deprive herself of the pleasure of his society. When she had treated him with unusual coldness, and continued in it a whole evening, she considered that she had done an excellent thing, and thought it all over with great satis- faction, while he, vexed and grieved, knew not what to make of her, and sighed for the days that were past. By-and-by Mr. Chester made no more efforts to bring about those long talks on the sofa, but left Fanny entirely to herself, or to some other gentleman, while Cousin Julia was engaged at the piano. He took less and less notice of her, and avoided her society. Fanny fancied that this was just what she wanted, and tried to convince herself that she was quite as happy as before ; but it would not do, and the evenings were long and dull. She missed, she knew not what, and began to sympathize fully with Nanny, in her wish to return to the prairie. "You and Harry Chester have had a falling out," said Julia one day. U O, no ;" said Fanny, quietly. 4< Indeed ! I thought it must be. He treats you so dxcscantly, and expresses such an opinion of you. You must have offended him in some way." "No," said Fanny, again. " You treat him very coldly." i'72 WESTERN BORDER LIFE. " I think very highly of him, nevertheless. So highly, that I consider him worthy even of you, Julia;-' said Fanny, with a smile. " Nonsense ! He was speaking :c me at)- at it last night. He says he has not given you the least occasion for such a sudden change ; that when you first came, he took some little pains to entertain you, thinking you might be lonely among st i: ^ers." " It was pity, then ," thought Fanny. " He laughed about it, and was so rude as to say that if you had no further use for him, he thought he could man- age to get along without you. He is very plain-spoken, I think." "He thinks me fickle in my friendships, I suppose," said Fanny, with a faint attempt at a smile. " He did insinuate something of the sort," said Julia, carelessly. " It is the crying sin of our sex, you know ;" and she went off humming a tune. Poor Fanny crushed back a tear or two, and went on with her work. It was while matters were in this state, that Mi-. Tom Walton came to town. The young ladies met him one evening at a concert, after which he became a constant visitor at Judge Stanton's house. As he appeared to have no business in the city, it seemed very probable that his visit was in some way connected with the young ladies' stay there. He dressed in the height of fashion, and driv- ing a dashing span of grays, seemed determined to impress people generally with a sense of his importance. He singled out Fanny as the favored object of his attentions, and annoyed her exceedingly by His close attendance, and his pressing invitations to ride, which, with a single ex- ception, she invariably declined, for he was in every way disagreeable to her, and she felt numbled rather than flat- MISUNDERSTANDINGS. 275 tered by his evident admiration. His dress, his swagger- ing manner, and his blunt, braggart style of conversation, proclaimed him to be no gentleman, and it was only good nature and consideration for his feelings, that induced Fanny to treat him with common civility. But he was the " rich Tom Walton, the greatest catch en the prairie ;" and even Nanny, with all her good- nature, could hardly forgive our little Connecticut girl for being the favored one. " I declare," she said one day, when Fanny had been almost forced into the only ride she took with him, as the grays dashed away from the door, " I declare, Julia, she is the least bit of a flirt after all." Julia laughed. " I thought you would come to your senses, Nanny. You will find her to be just the design- ing creature I told you." "And yet she says she doesn't like him. She made believe that she would much rather stay at home, than to ride with him." " Probably," said Julia. As they dashed down the street, as ill luck would have it, they met Mr. Chester. He touched his hat to Fanny, and glanced, as she fancied, curiously and disdainfully at her companion. " He thinks I have given up his friendship for such so- ciety as this," she thought, bitterly. " I would have been glad to keep his respect, if nothing more." The next evening they were going to a concert, Julia with Mr. Chester, Nanny with Tom Walton, and Fanny with the judge, whose escort she had secured to save her- self from the company of her prairie beau, whom Nanny was but too proud to accompany. It happened, however, that in running down stairs Julia sprained her ankle, and though she thought little of the accident at the moment, 12* 274 WESTERN BORDER LIFE. yet by evening she was obliged in consequence to remain at home. The two young gentlemen made their appearance at the appointed hour, but the judge did not come, and after waiting some time, Mrs. Stanton proposed that they gL.iuld go at once, leaving him to join them in the hall. Fanny playfully protested that she must wait for her escort, but her objections were all overruled, principally by the tone and look with which Mr. Chester said to her, when no one was listening, " Are you so unwilling to go with me ?" Fanny shook her head, and \vith something of her old frankness of manner, put her arm in his. She scarcely knew what was said during the walk. She only remembered that he was kind again, that she was thinking to herself all the while that she had not quite lost him for a friend, and that he said something to her as they entered the hall, about " being Fanny Hunter again to-night." And why should she not ? Julia Stanton was not there, to be vexed by his kindness to her. Surely she might throw aside the vail for one evening. The judge did not come, but nobody missed him. The concert was second or third rate, but neither of them, thought so, and though it continued two mortal hours, they considered it very short. When Fanny ran up to her own room, her cheeks were still glowing with pleasurable excitement, and the tones of her companion's voice were ringing in her ears, and yet there was a guilty, self-ace ising feeling within that caused her, after a little, to sit down and think it all over. The result was not satisfactory. Ir A vain she tried to reason away the suspicion that troubled her; and convince herself that it was because she had broken her resolution, and given Julia more occasion for jealousy, that she was feeling so guilty. But it would not do. She felt that MISUNDERSTANDINGS. 275 there was still another cause, and she finally put the ques- tion frankly to herself, whether for her own sake, as well as Julia Stantori's, it would not be best to avoid Mr. Chester's society. However much she might shrink from the humiliating thought, that the companionship of one who was solemnly pledged to another, was becoming dangerous to her peace of mind, the conclusion forced it- self upon her, that in some measure this was beginning to be true. Poor Fanny ! She thought she could have borne any thing better than this humiliating acknowledgment, and she paced her little room with rapid steps, bitterly up- braiding her own weakness. " It was time," she thought, " high time that I avoided him, before I come to be one of those silly, love-sick girls, whom I have always de- spised." If, in the midst of all this self-upbraiding, it once or twice occurred to her that Mr. Chester himself had been somewhat to blame, and that there had been looks and tones that evening that the lady of his choice would not be pleased to see addressed to another, if this thought arose in her mind, she instantly dismissed it, and con- cluded that her own weakness had misinterpreted what he intended as mere brotherly kindness. " O dear, dear," said Fanny to herself, at the conclusion of her cogitations, "I wish I were out of all this, and back again on the prairie." Meanwhile a scene of quite another character was trans- piring in cousin Julia's room. Mr. Tom Walton not proving very talkative or agreeable at the concert, Nanny found ample time to observe Fanny and Mr. Chester, and she amused herself by thinking how she could excite cousin Julia's jealousy, by her remarks upon their evident enjoy ment of each other's society. She was not an itf-natured 276 WESTERN BORDER LIFE. girl, and had no intent'' on of doing Fanny an injury, but the prospect of rou mg her cousin a little, and getting up a scene, was quite irresistible. She accordingly re- paired at once to the young lady's chamber, hoping to find her still up. She was not disappointed. Cousin Julia, with her graceful form wrapped in a loose morning-robe, was stretched upon a lounge in the middle of the room She held a book in her hand, but threw it down with : yawn as her cousin entered, and with a " Well, Nanny,*' sank back languidly upon her pillows. "Well, cousin Julia, you ought to have been there," said Nanny. " Have you enjoyed the evening, Nanny ?" "Yes ; not so well as some other folks, though." She waited for an answer, but the young lady appeared too sleepy tq give one. " I declare," she said at last, getting out of patience, "you would n't be lying there half asleep, if you had seen the carryings on that I have to-night." " What carryings on ?" said cousin Julia. " Well, mebbe you would n't think of it as any thing out of the way here, but up the country it would make a talk, to have such actions going on." "What in the world are you driving at?" said Julia, impatiently. " Can't you speak out, Nanny ?" " I s'pose you felt mighty safe and easy here at home, and your beau off waitin' on another lady," said Nanny significantly. " Of course I did," returned her cousin, haughtily. "I'll thank you to tell me why I should not !" Nanny, who at all times stood a little in awe of her beautiful cousin, was quite taken aback by this manner of receiving her hints, and would gladly have left the com- munication just where it was ; but Julia had raised herself < MISUNDERSTANDINGS. 177 on her elbow, and with her eyes fixed upon her, was wait- ing for a reply. "I'm sure I don't know, Cousin Julia," she said at length ; " for pity's sake don't look so solemn about it. I was only in fun." " And when you are ready to explain, I should like to know what all the fun is about," said Julia in the same tone. " I declare, Julia, you frighten me. It was just nothing at all, only Fanny Hunter flirted all the while at the con- cert with Mr. Chester, and I thought I 'd tease you a little about it." " Where was my father ?" said Julia, calmly. " I thought he was going with Fanny Hunter." "He didn't come, though; they had it all to them- selves." "I hope they enjoyed it," said Cousin Julia, indiffer- ently. " They acted like they did," said Nanny, a little pro- voked with her cousin for not exhibiting more feeling. " They appeared to be making the most of it." "And what do you know about it?" said Julia, her usu- ally soft voice raised to rather an unlady-like pitch. " How could you tell whether they were flirting or not?' " Well, of course I did n't hear what they said ; but we pat a little way behind 'em, and I could see how thick they were, and how he leaned over once in a while and looked into her eyes ; and she " " And she," said Cousin Julia, impatiently, interrupting her ; "how did the unsophisticated little innocent take it all?" " O, she sat there smiling away, with such a pretty color in her cheeks, as happy as you please. It seemed 'most a pity when the concert was over, to break it -41 up." 278 WESTERN BOEDER LIFE. "It was a great pity," said Julia, bitterly. "And now, my dear coz, is this all the pleasant information you have to give me ?" " Yes," said Nanny, " we all came home together, and she went straight up to her own room, and I came in here to tell you about it." "It was very kind of you," said Julia, dryly; "and now as I am an invalid, and very sleepy and tired beside, I hope you will excuse me and let me go to bed." She looked any thing but sleepy, with her curled lip and flashing eye ; but Nanny took up her lamp and bade her good-night. "Well," she thought, as she closed the door, " Cousin Julia is the strangest girl ! Who would ever have thought of her taking it so cool?" Julia's troublesome foot obliged her to keep her room for several days, and the irksomeness of the confinement, together with the pain it caused her, kept her in a state of nervous irritability, that tried the patience of all about her, and even called forth a rebuke from her gentle mother. " Julia, my dear, what ails you ?" she said. " I never saw you so impatient before. You have borne longer confinements than this, with only one for company, and here are your two friends ready to sit with you and amuse you in any way you fancy. Let Miss Hunter read to you awhile this morning. It will divert your attention from yourself, and do you good. Shall I send for her ?" " O. no, mamma. I only want to be let alone. I am tired to death of company. I wish you would contrive to get rid of them." "You will feel differently, Julia, when your foot is better," said her mother, quietly. That same evening, however, the invalid accepted Fan- ny's oiler to read aloud, and when in an hour or so the MISUNDERSTANDINGS. 279 girl came up to tell Miss Hunter that Mr. Chester was in the parlor, Julia appeared so unwilling to lose her society, that she very gladly remained, sending word that she was engaged with the sick one. This happened twice or three times, and then Mrs. Stanton insisted upon Fanny's going down, though Julia would gladly have detained her. "Fanny, in her simplicity, thought that she was making some progress in the young lady's regard, and was only too delighted at the change ; the sarcastic remarks that invalid now and then dropped, falling harmlessly to the ground, because she did not in the least understand them. " Go down, my dear," said Mrs. Stanton, as Fanny still lingered, " Julia will not be so selfish as to detain you. Nanny is there, and I will soon follow you." As she entered the parlor, Mr. Chester rose to meet her. He was alone, and Fanny, who had expected to find Nanny in the room, was a little embarrassed by the warmth of his reception. It was their first meeting since the night of the concert, and there was something in his manner which, in despite of all her brave resolutions, pre- vented her from being so calm and self-possessed as she had intended. Half unconsciously she took her old place on the sofa, and Mr. Chester sat down beside her. " You have come at last, Miss Hunter," he said, re- proachfully. " I began to fear that those dismal excuses were to continue forever." u And if they continued ever so long, you ought to be the last person to complain, considering in whose service 1 have been detained. You should be in a grateful rather than a complaining mood." " Yes, certainly," said Mr. Chester, apparently a little rebuked. " We all feel a deep interest in Miss Julia's recovery. Is she better to-night ?" 280 WESTERJS BORDER LIFE. " Much better, and will join us below in a day or two, Is n't this good news ?" " It is, indeed. We shall all be together once more, ?n bodily presence at least," he added. "I would we couiJ as readily be united in spirit again." " Has there then been a division ?" inquired Fanny. " You know that there has, Miss Fanny ;" said Mr. Chester. "Every thing is changed. Why, to me the house itself bears a different aspect ; and whereas I once entered it, in all boldness, confident of a kind reception and beaming smiles, I now come with fear and trembling, doubtful whether I am welcome or no. The gate used to give a little welcome squeak when I pushed it open ; the lilacs nodded their heads encouragingly to me as I passed, and the door-bell jingled out, 4 Come in ! come in !' But now the very gate sighs dismally, the lilacs shake their heads, and the bell well I think every time that it may be sounding the knell of my departed hopes." "Doleful!" said Fanny, with mock solemnity. "Now for the cause of this distressing change. Where rests the blame ? How shall we exorcise this evil spirit ? this household sprite, that has been enticed under our roof?" " The fault, if there is any," he replied, looking her full in the face, " rests with one person, and she " he hesi- tated* a moment " she is too good and lovely ever to do any thing wrong." " Ah, now I understand," thought Fanny. " There has been a lover's quarrel, and I am to be mado the mediator. Well ! well ! Cousin Julia shall see that 1 am truly her friend after all." Then turning to her companion, with a beaming smile, she said, " And if it turn out to be the fault of neither, but only a trifling misunderstanding, what then ?" AIISUNDEK STANDINGS. 281 " Then," said Mr. Chester, eagerly, " we might be friends again." "And this would raise you again to the comfortable state of mind you described just now?" said Fanny. "No it would be happiness compared with the cold- ness that has existed of late, and I have looked back with inexpressible regret to those days of confidence and friendship, but even those would not satisfy me now. I shall never rest in perfect content till all uncertainties are done away, and that day may never come, or if it come, may plunge me into utter despair." 44 1 do not understand you, Mr. Chester," said Fanny. He had spoken so seriously that she gave up her jesting tone. " May I explain my meaning ?" he said, and then without waiting for her reply, continued, " I am so happy, I would have said a week ago, so w^happy now, as to be deeply and irrecoverably in love. I fancied, nay, in my presumption, I felt almost certain, that the feeling was returned, but in those happy days I delayed to bring matters to a crisis, and now I dare not, for my certainty has changed into the most distressing doubts." " Are they not engaged then, after all ?" thought Fanny. 44 How wrong in Cousin Julia not to have denied it, and we ail thinking it a settled thing." His anxious face recalled her, and she blushed under his gaze, to think that she had cast reproach upon her, whom he considered perfection itself. " Do you not see why every thing here is changed to me, why I dread to come, and yet can not stay away ?" 44 Has she been unkind, then ?" said Fanny. "Is not indifference and neglect sometimes worse than actual unkindness, Miss Fanny ?" She remembered how his own coldness had grieved her 2bL WESTERN BOBBER LIFE. awhile ago, and answered faintly enough in the affirma- tive. " You are sorry for me," he continued, " I see it in your face. O, Fanny! Miss Hunter! can you- give me any hope ?" His tone so tender, so passionate, thrilled her to the heart, and struggling to retain her self-possession, she turned her face from him. " O, dear ! why of all others must he choose her for his confidante, and pour into her ears the story of his love for another and that other ! Well, any one with half an eye could see that she was dy- ing to hear the words he felt so afraid to speak. Afraid ! She would say yes, and thank you too in a minute. Should she tell him so at once, and end this ridiculous scene. No, that would be unkind to Julia, but she would givo him to understand as delicately as possible, that he had no occasion to despair, encourage him to make the de- cish e declaration, and thus speedily settle matters between ther i." " \ see," he said sadly, as she turned toward him again, " thr\t you have nothing to say." " You see no such thing," said Fanny, smiling ; u I have something to say, and if I seem trifling and unsympa- thizmg now, it is because I view this whole matter in a hopeful light. I am weary of these doubts and fears, and tell you in all confidence, that if you will folio winy advice, they shall disappear directly. Can you trust me ?" " With my whole heart," said the young man. " Then," said Fanny, raising her eyes calmly to his face, u cast all these fears of yours to the winds, and in hope and confidence, put the question that shall decide your fate at once." " Do you advise me to this step ?" said Harry Chester, his face flushing with sudden surprise and pleasure. MISUNDERSTANDINGS. 283 " I do," said Fanny. It was hard, after all, to meet that beaming look. "And it shall not end in disappointment?" " In a blissful certainty," said Fanny, smiling. "Heaven bless you for those words! Fanny, dear Fanny!" he caught her hand, and pressed it passionately to his lips. Had he fallen dead at her feet, her face could scarce have undergone a more sudden change. She snatched away her hand and sprang to her feet, her eyes flashing with anger, and the red blood crimsoning her fair face into a deep blush. " What do you mean ? How dare you insult me thus ?" she said rapidly. In the extremity of surprise, he too had risen, and they stood confronting each other, she in insulted dignity, and he in perfect bewilderment, as to what it all meant. " How dare you treat me so ?" she repeated, tears of pride and mortification tilling her eyes. " What have I done ?" he asked. " I would cut off my right hand rather than give you pain. Do you not believe me ?" She could not well disbelieve it, with that anxious face before her, and the angry flush gradually left her own. " Then," he said, interpreting the change in her coun- tenance as f she had spoken, " if in the first flush of de- light your own words gave me, I frightened you by my vehemence, forgive me; and O! Fanny, repeat them. Tell me once more that I have not loved you so long in vain." "Me!" said Fanny, losing every other feeling in that of intense surprise. " What do you mean ? Of whom have you been speaking ?" "Of you, Fanny. I have never loved any one else." 284 .rESTERN BORDER LIFE. She gave him a look full of surprise and eager inquiry. "I thought they told me Cousin Julia," she stain mered. "Who told you, and what, Fanny?" he said, gently. 44 What strange mistake is this that perplexes you ?" " I always supposed you engaged to her, Mr. Chester^ 1 said Fanny, frankly. It was his turn to look surprised now. " Engaged !" he said. " Engaged to Julia Stanton ! Is it possible, Fanny ? Could you imagine such a thing for a moment, when you must have seen that I was striving in every way to win your love ;" and then, as overcome by the strange developments of this interview, Fanny sank down upon the sofa, he continued earnestly, " will you believe me when I solemnly declare to you again, that I have never loved any one but you, and that in you lies the power to make me happy or miserable." He waited for her reply, while trembling and astonished she could hardly keep back her tears. At this moment Mrs. Stanton entered, and Fanny, a poor dissembler at best, finding it impossible to control her agitation, hastily left the room. As she passed the door of Julia's chamber, the young lady called her in ; and striving to hide her agitation, Fanny paused at the threshold to see what was wanted. " O, come in," said Cousin Julia, in a fretful tone ; " don't be in such a hurry to get away from me. I want to hear about your pleasant interview ;" and then, with ^ searching look at Fanny's flushed cheeks and tearful eyes, she continued tauntingly, u ah! something exciting, I see. Come, tell us all about it !" " Incuse me, Julia," said Fanny, " some other time," and she turned toward the door, near which she was stan ling. M IS U N I ER SI A N I) I N G S. 285 "No, no, you shall stay now," said Julia; and then seeing that Fanny was still intent upon leaving the room, she sprang forward in spite of her lame foot, and standing ' in the doorway, prevented her from going. " You shall stay now? she repeated, with sudden vio- lence. " This has been going on long enough, and now I will know what it all means." Her listener was so astonished at the angry vehemence with which she spoke, that she knew not how to reply. "You may look as innocent as you please," she con- tinued, "but you know perfectly well what I mean. You dare not deny that you have been working in an under- hand way ever since you came into this house." "Julia," said Fanny, calmly, "I don't in the least un- derstand what you mean ; but it is unworthy of you to talk in this way, and I can not listen to you. Will you let me pass ?" " You do know. You do understand," said the young lady, with increasing warmth. " Don't you think that I have seen through your soft ways and pretended friend- ships ? I tell you, Fanny Hunter, you have kept one ob- ject in view ever since you came here, and if you go away without its accomplishment, it will not be for want of per- severance and labor. I have borne it in silence long enough, and now I will speak. I tell you again, that you know perfectly well what I mean." There was nothing like guilty consciousness in Fanny's eyes, as she gazed earnestly at the angry girl, but a look of grieved surprise, as thotigh shocked and hurt, rather than angered at the charge. "Julia, ' she said, " what I have done to vex you I do not know ; but this I can say : if I know my own heart, it contains none but the kindest feelings toward you ; nor would I knowingly injure you in the slightest way." 286 WESTERN BORDEK LIFE. " O, no, you have manifested the most disinterested regard for me," said Julia, bitterly. " What have I done?" said Fanny. "What is it that has vexed you so ?" " What have you done !" said the young lady, her pale f ice flushing crimson. " You have been trying to steal away the heart of the only man I ever loved, when it was all mine, till you came between us with your baby lace. That you would call an act of friendship, perhaps." "Julia," said Fanny, all her womanly pride aroused by this cruel charge. "You know that it is false. Your own heart must tell you, that you are wronging me, When I avoided his society, and ran the risk of losing his friendship entirely, by my coldness and indifference, did this look like working in an underhand way to gain hia affections ? I have given all my influence in your favor, and oh, Julia ! how could you think so meanly of me as to imagine that I would cherish such a design for one moment, supposing as I did, until this evening, that you were solemnly engaged to Mr. Chester." " And who told you I was not " said Julia, turning pale again. " He told me himself," said Fanny. Julia gazed at her a moment. " He told you himself," she repeated bitterly, an expression of rage and scorn crossing her beautiful features. "You? and what more he told you I can see, in your tell-tale face. Go," she said, stepping aside, " go, I never want to see you again." She leaned, pale and trembling, against the door- way. "Julia," said Fanny, her eyes filling with tears, "for- give me if I have spoken harshly. O do not let us part in anger." Julia again motioned her toward the door, and slowly and sadly she left the room. Seeking the quiet of h:r MISUNDERSTANDINGS. 287 own chamber, Fanny sat down in such a whirl of excite- ment, that she could hardly think at all. With a feeling of sincere sorrow and pity for Julia's unhappiness, there was mingled a confuted sense of joy, of a consciousness of some great happiness that had suddenly come upon her, and which, though ?louded by the remembrance of those ;M'iiel reproaches, was still spreading a sunny influence over her heart. He was free, and had spoken words, the import of which could not be mistaken. She thought no further than this ; the present joy was all that she could bear; and when, at last, Nanny came in to talk awhile be- fore going to bed, she was met by such a beaming smile, ay she had not seen on Fanny's face for many days. " Only one day more, Miss Fanny," she said, as she \ >se to retire, " only one more day, and we shall start for the prairie again. The corn must be a foot high by this time, and plenty of lettuco and asparagus in the garden. Oh, what would keep me n this hot city all summer, I wonder 1" CHAPTER XXV11I. U UP THE COUNTRY." THE next day was spent in preparations f.r their de- parture, and though Fanny sought eagerly for an oppor- tunity to speak with Julia alone, it grieving her much to part with her in her present state of feeling, the young lady took particular pains to avoid an interview. Fanny thought she appeared a little ashamed of last night's vio- lence, and once or twice her eyes fell before Fanny's anxious look ; certain it was, she treated her with strict politeness, and in no outw r ard manner exhibited a trace of the feeling she had so lately manifested. The day seemed very long to Fanny, and when, in tne evening, two or three visitors dropped in, each jingle of the door-bell made her start. It was unusual for Fanny to be nervous. Was it for Mr. Tom Walton that she was looking? That personage made his appearance in the course of the evening, and invited the young ladies to ride up to the prairie in his new buggy, informing them with considerable pride, that he had purchased the span of gray?, and intended to take them up the next day. To Nanny's great surprise, Fanny gently but decidedly declined bis invitation for herself, referring him to Miss Nanny to answer on her account. He seemed greatly astonished, and a little offended, but did not condescend to urge the matter, or even to give Nanny the oppor tunity to decline also. "UP THE COUNTRY ." 289 4 Why, Miss Fanny, how could you ?" said Naur*^, after he had gone. " Only think of riding up in his beautiful buggy, instead of that old lumbering stage. Why, all the girls on the prairie would know it, and be just as jealous of us as could be. How came you to do it, Miss Fanny ?" "Because I didn't like to be under obligations to Mr. Walton for such a long ride, Nanny, and besides, I really prefer going in the stage." "Well, that's funny, when we could go in half the time, and in such crank style, too. I reckon you never will get the chance again, for he seemed real put out about it. But there ! do you reckon Harry Chester is going to let us go off without so much as bidding us good- by. He knows we start early in the morning, for I told him so myself." Fanny was revolving the same question in her own mind, and could find no satisfactory reason why the young gentleman did not come. The evening passed, however, and early in the morning our country guests took their departure. Fanny receiving a warm embrace from Mrs. Stanton, and a cordial shake of the hand, and a u God bless you, Fanny !" from the judge. A couple of hours after they had gone, Mr. Chester called. He found Julia alone in the parlor, and learned to his great astonishment that the ladies had departed. "Gone!" he repeated. "The judge told me they would remain another day. I inquired particularly, for though I was called out of town upon urgent business, I \\ould have put it into other hands, and remained, had I supposed it was 'my last opportunity of seeing them. How could the judge have made such a mistake ?" " I believe I told papa yesterday, that they were to re- main another day; but they afterward changed their minds," said Julia. 13 '290 WESTERN BORDER LIFE. He seemed greatly disappointed, and sustained his part of the conversation in an awkward, absent-minded manner, until Julia turned it upon their late visitors, and more particularly upon Fanny. She spoke of her intelligence and pleasing manners, etc., etc., till his listlessness was all gone, and he responded eagerly to all that she said. " Yes, she is a sweet girl," said Julia, " what a pity it ia that she is engaged." " Engaged !" said Harry Chester, with a start. " Yes, certainly. Did ri't you know it ? To a young theological student, or a minister, back there in Connec- ticut. It seems a pity. She might do so much better here. There's young Strong, I think appeared to admire her very much ; and, indeed, she is a favorite with most gentlemen." "Miss Julia, are you sine that this is so?" said Mr, Chester. " Such reports are so unreliable." 4(1 This about her engagement? O, yes! there is n't a shadow of a doubt. She has received letters regularly from him all winter, Nanny says, and indeed she makes no secret of it herself." " Why did n't you tell me this before ?" he said, almost angrily. " Why, really, Mr. Chester, I did n't imagine the intel- ligence would have aifected you so deeply. I would have spared your feelings still," said Julia, with a wicked smile. The raillery seemed more than he could bear. He paced the room a moment with rapid steps, and then bid ding her a good-morning, left the house. She watched him down the steps, and turned away from the window, with the same wicked smile upon her lips. The farm-wagon that bore our travelers from Belcher's store to their home on La Belle Prairie, wound its way U UP THE COUNTKY." 291 along the smooth road, arid down the little hill leading to the creek. It was after sunset, and the soft air was full of the fragrance of the prairie flowers, while the trees by the creek, hung heavy with their rich foliage. Nature had clothed the prairie in its summer attire ; and the change from the nakedness of winter, and the scanty ver- dure of spring, to the full luxuriance of summer, w r as very great ; and Fanny, gazing around her, and drawing in great draughts of country air, thought that La Belle Prairie had never so well deserved its name. They had crossed the creek, and were just entering ipon the little patch of woods this side, when a child's voice called them to stop, and a moment after little Maud> with her hands full of flowers, suddenly appeared in the patli before them. They waited for her to scramble into the wagon, which she had no sooner done, than dropping her flowers, she threw both arms round Fanny's neck, and kissing and hugging her, burst into tears. " O, Miss Fanny, I 'm so glad !" she sobbed. Fanny pressed the affectionate child to her heart, and almost cried with her, while Mr. Catlett and Nanny seemed quite at a loss to understand the scene. "Well, I declare," said the squire, "to see that, now when the young one has been counting the days and hours till Miss Fanny came back ; to meet her in that way cry- ing away as if she was sorry." "It '3 just because I'm so glad, Miss Fanny, ain't it?" said Maud, with another hug. " Have you been waiting for us here all alone, Maud ?" said Fanny. " Yes. You see the girls would have come with me if I had told 'em, but somehow I wanted to see you first myself. Was that selfish, Miss Fanny ?" There was no selfishness in the little, beaming, upturned 292 WESTERN BORDER LIFE. face, and Fanny only pressed the child closer to her heart. u O, there 's my flowers, Miss Fanny ! I forgot all about them. See, I made a wreath for you to wear, you know, 'cause we must crown you when you first come home. O, we have wanted you back so bad." " And Aunt Phebe ?" whispered Fanny, as she allowed the child to arrange the wreath of wild flowers on her bonnet, "is she well?" Maud shook her head. " Miss Fanny, aunty's get tin' too good to stay here. O, I wish she did n't want, to go, and then mebbe we could keep her." There was abundance of shouting and rejoicing when the farm-wagon drove up the lane, and in the joyous wel- come they received from all, and in the abundance of good cheer brought forth for the occasion, our wanderers were pretty well convinced, that after all there was no suoh place as " La Belle Prairie." CHAPTER XXIX. THE GERM SPROUTS. in the world has come over that girl?" said Mrs. Catlett one day, as Martha left the room, slamming the door behind her ; " I declare I 'm completely worn out by her tantrums ; and if I so much as speak to her, she glares at me with those great ugly eyes of hers, till I 'm actually afraid of her. And Mr. Catlett, he won't do the first thing to help me, 'cause he says I must see to the house-servants myself. O, dear ! I reckon you 've found out by this time, Miss Fanny, that I 'm more of a slave than any body on the place, niggers not excepted." " Ma, it 's your own fault," said Nanny ; " you give 'em such a free run, that they jaw at you to your face, and make faces behind your back. If you only kept as snug a rope now as Madam Gamby, you 'd get along easy with 'em all. That girl did n't used to be hard to manage. I 've seen a great many worse." " Well, she 's powerful ugly now, Nanny," said Cal ; " you don't know how she 's carried on since you 've been gone. You ought to have seen her shake the baby the other day, when she thought nobody was nigh. O, my i She looked like she could tear her eyes out and feel the better for it. Ma, you don't know how her eyes did glare." " I know," said Mrs. Catlett ; "it 's really dangerous to have the girl round. I believe she 'd do the baby a mis- 294 WESTERN BOEDER LIFE- chief any time she could get a good chance. Sweet little innocent ! Mamma's b'inch of love !" " You see, Nanny, if you '11 believe it, she has n't got over moping for that Tilla's dyin' yet," said Cal ; " and somehow, she feels a kind of spite against us all, as if we were to blame for it. and the baby more than any body else." " For my part," said Nanny, " I was n't so dreadful sorry when that young one died. She never was of much account, and I don't reckon ever would be ; and, as pa said, it was kind of a disgrace to have such an ashy nig- ger round." " O, Nanny !" said Fanny, " don't talk so. She was every thing to Martha ; and I think w r e ought to make some allowance for her just now. She really seems to be beside herself since Tilla died. I 'm sure, Mrs. Catlett, she used to be one of the best-natured, obedient house- servants that you had." " Well, I don't know but she did do as well as any of 5 em," said Mrs. Catlett; "they are all bad enough, and now she 's worse than all the rest put together." " O, Miss Fanny !" said Maria, at this moment burst- ing into the room, "just see your beautiful new lawn frock. It 's all tore to slits." There was a general exclamation of surprise as 'Ria held up the tattered garment, a pretty spotted muslin, which Fanny had finished the day before, and laid away up the new room stairs for safe keeping. " Where did you find it ? How did it happen ? Who could be so mean ?" were the questions eagerly put, while Fanny stood silently gazing upon her ruined property. " It 's that awful Marthy, I know it is," said Cal. " Why you see, ma," said 'Ria, " a little while back I see Marthy come out of here, slammin' the door shut Mke she THE GE1IM SPROUTS. 293 was mad, and then go creepin' up the new room stairs, where you told her never to go, and so I thought I'd fol- low her, and see what she was up to. Well, when I got to the door, there she stood in the middle of the room / with Miss Fanny's beautiful new frock in her hands, tear in' a great slit in it, and when I called out to her to stop, she just looked at me like she 'd take my head off, and she put it between her teeth,*and tore at it with her claws, and stamped on it with her great feet like a wild cat, as she is. I never should have got her off, if Maud had n't helped me. Lors ! I thought I should have died laughin', for all I was so mad, to see Maud fly at her. She made the wool fly, I tell you." " You think we had better make allowance for her, don't you, Miss Fanny?" said Nanny. "A pretty subject for pity, ain't she ?" "O dear, dear! Miss Fanny's beautiful new gown; it ain't good for nothin'," said little Joy. " Now you can't wear it to meetin' next Sunday, can you, Miss Fanny ?" "There! Come in here, you mean, hateful, horrid, spiteful creature, you," cried a voice in the passage, and presently Maud appeared with a flushed face and flashing eyes, pushing Martha before her ; " I hope they '11 whip you awfully, I do. If I \?s a grown woman, I 'd whip you almost to death." " Maud, behave yourself," said her mother, " and leave the girl alone." "I won't then, ma !" said the child ; " you don't know half her badness, to spite Miss Fanny so ; the very best friend she's got in the world; always takm' her part, and makin' excuses for her, when we told over her pranks. O, you feel crank now, don't you, when you've spoiled hei prettiest gown, and made her feel so bad ? You you O how I hate you." . 296 WESTERN BORDER LIFE. " Maud ! Maud ! for pity's sake stop !" said Fanny, " I would rather lose a dozen gowns than have you say such dreadful things." " I can't help it, Miss Fanny. Tt 's in me, and I must . talk it out. O, I do hate her, and I know it ain't wicked to hate such. Well, Miss Fanny, I will try to quit, if you look at me that way, only it 's true, every word of it, just as true as the Bible." Meanwhile, the object of this indignation, still grasping a fragment of the torn dress in her hand, stood gazing from one to another of the speakers, with a look of sullen malignity upon her face, that gave little token of repent- ance for what she had done. There had, indeed, been a remarkable change in the girl. At Tilla's death, every good and hopeful feeling of her nature seemed to have taken its departure. Her step lost its elasticity, her voice its cheerful tone, and from a careless, good-natured crea- ture, who went singing about her work, and brought upon herself many a scolding by her boisterous light-heartedness, she suddenly became gloomy, silent, and morose, going about her daily tasks with a heavy step and downcast look; or if at some sharp rebuke she was roused a mo- ment from this apathy, there was a flash in her eyes, and an expression on her face, that her mistress had never seen there before. " I 'm not at all surprised," said Mrs. Catlett, " there 's nothing too bad for such creatures. But look here, Marthy, I want to just say to you, that this ain't a goin' to do. You haven't gone this while without a trimmin' for nothin'. I sha'n't touch you. You 've got beyond me, but perhaps you don't remember that you 've got a master, and a set one too, when he undertakes a thing. I shall hand you over to him, and we '11 see what you '11 catch to-morrow morning. The teacher is not to be iir THE GEKM SPROUTS. 297 suited, and have her gowns tore off her back undei this roof for nothin', I can tell you." " Never mind about the dress, Mrs. Catlett," said Fanny. " Indeed I don't want her punished on my ac- count." " Are you wild, Fanny Hunter ?" said Nanny. " If you can sit still, and see your best gowns tore to slits, I can't and won't. Them sort of actions must be stopped in a hurry. I hope pa will take her in hand." " I 'm sure she is sorry," said Fanny, anxiously, " I can't bear to have her whipped, for any thing she has done to me. Let her off this once, Mrs. Catlett, do." "Well, if you ain't the strangest girl," said Nanny. "If anybody had worked me the mischief that wench has you, I reckon I would n't waste much breath on her. You have such queer notions." " I don't want her whipped," persisted Fanny. " Come, Mrs. Catlett, the offense was committed against me. Do let her off." " Don't ask me," said the lady. " I '11 have nothin' to do with it. You must go to Mr. Catlett. If, after he hears the story he 's a mind to let her slip, he may. I sha'n't try to whip her. But, as Nanny says, Miss Fanny, you are very foolish to waste your breath on such crea- tures. I'll be bound, now, you can't get her to say she ' sorry for what she 's done." u Here, you Marthy," said Nanny, " tell Miss Fanny you are sorry you tore her gown, quick now !" The girl made no answer. " Speak, you bad girl ;" cried Maud, " don't you hear Miss Fanny takin' your part. You ought to get right down on your knees this minute, and ask her to forgive you." " I won't, den," said Martha. is* 298 WESTERN BOBBER LIFE. The silence that succeeded this bold answer, was broken by old Madam Hester in the corner : "Well, of all things," she said, "jest to think of it* She pawned off all her mother's silver spoons to get up that party, and starved in a garret at last. Her mother was a Watkins." " Marthy," said Mrs. Catlett, sternly, " how dare you talk so to Miss Maud ?" " Dare," said Nanny, " she dare do any thing. Miss Fanny, there 's a sweet spirit for you ! It looks like bein' sorry, don't it ? Now, then, for my part, I '11 be right glad to see her whipped, and pa 's the man that'll do it, too." That evening, when Mr. Catlett returned from the field, Fanny was waiting for him at the porch. " Can I speak with you a moment, sir ?" she said. " Well, ma'am, I reckon," said Mr. Catlett, throwing himself lazily down upon the bench, "what's wantin' now ?" Fanny briefly related the morning's occurrence, and concluded by requesting that Martha should not be pun- ished this once. Mr. Catlett had taken a cake of tobacco from his pocket, and with a penknife was leisurely paring off the edges. " Well," he said, looking up when she had fin- ished, " well ?" " That 's all," said Fanny, " only I hope you will grant my request." " You do ? Well, now, why not ?" said Mr. Catlett, " 'specially seein' it 's so reasonable. If she 'd come to me, like the other girls, for money to buy new traps, cr any thing of that sort, I might stop to think about it a little; but, Lord, jest look at it! Why, says she, all I want is for you to give your niggers full swing, let 'em do all the mischief the devil puts into their hearts, only THE GEfcM SPROUTS. 299 promise never to give 'em a whippin', that 's all she wants. Look here, you little Connecticut school ma'am, brought up on the Bible and Catechism, did you ever hear this text, Spare the rod, and spoil the nigger ?" " No, sir," said Fanny, laughing. " Well, it 's there, anyhow, and you 're a pretty parse n' daughter to be preachin' up t' other doctrine. ' Oh,' saya you, * bear patiently with 'em, scold a little easy^ some- times, when they cut up very bad ; don't hurt their feel- in's, though, 'cause they 've got hearts under their black skins jest like white folks.' You 'd let em break your dishes, and tear your nice traps, and raise hob generally on the place, and when it came, to whippin' c Oh, Mr Catlett,' says you, 'don't! don't! it's such a dreadful thing,' and off you go into hysterics, or a cat-fit, or some- thing about as bad." " Nonsense, Mr. Catlett ! you don't know me." " Yes, I do ; and if that little chicken heart of yours was half as tough as a nigger's hide, you'd get through the world easier. Bless you, child, a whippin' 's nothin' to 'em, they are made to be whipped. They need it jest as much as my sheep need shearin', only a mighty deal oftener. There, don't look so solemn about it. Mass' Jack ain't the worst master in the world, if he is 'trab- blin' de broad road,' as Aunt Phebe says. Come on, now, let 's have some supper." " But you don't promise, Mr. Catlett," said Fanny. " There, you are at it again. I never saw any tiling like it. There 's no use arguing with a woman. You may give her a dozen reasons why you can't do a thing, and nary one of 'em will she hear to, but fly right back to where she started from. No, ma'am, I don't promise, and I don't mean to, neither. There, now, is that enough." 800 WESTERN BORDER LIFE. u lt ought to be, perhaps," said Fanny, " but at the risk of making you angry, I must say a word more. 1 shall not sleep a wink to-night, if I think that girl is to be whipped in the morning, for tearing up one of my dresses. Mr. Catlett, if you should tell Martha distinctly that it was only as a favor to me that you forgave her, and that another such act would certainly be punished, would it do any harm or injure your discipline ?" " O no, not in the least," said Mr. Catlett. " Of course they wouldn't chuckle over it, and go on cuttin' up all the tantrums they please, knowin' that there, 's a little chicken- hearted abolitionist on the place, that could n't bear to hear a nigger squeal, and so kept hangin' round a feller till he promised what she wanted, jest to get rid of her little teazin' face. Come, come, Miss Fanny, you are prime in your line. Jest keep on with the white children, and let all these darkeys alone. I believe that 's what I got you here for." " One moment, Mr. Catlett," said Fanny, as he rose to go. " I don't think you ought to accuse me of interfering in what does not belong to me. You know the offense was committed against me, and it was my property that was injured. I thought I might properly have u voice in the matter. Besides, I preferred my request as a per- sonal favor, with all due submission to you as master. I think it was quite enough to refuse me, without reproach- >ng me with an an attempt to manage " " Now, there 's dignity for you," said Mr. Catlett. " Who accused you of any thing, I should like to know ? Well ! well ! that '11 do now. I ain't a bad-natured feller, Miss Fandango, and I like you well enough to do mosti any thing you ask me, but you see yourself it would n't do to let such a thing- go unpunished, or if you don't see it now," he added, looking back mischievously, " when you THE GERM SPROUTS. 301 marry one of our rich young farmers, and settle down o the prairie, take my word for it, you '11 make one of the best managers in Missouri. You, abolitionists, once con- verted, always make the tightest masters. You '11 come to it." " Heaven forbid !" said Fanny, fervently. As she rose to follow him, she observed a dark figure Btart up from a clump of bushes near the porch, and steal round the corner of the house. " Poor Martha," thought Fanny, " poor Martha." The next morning when Viny came up stairs with her bucket of water, she brought the intelligence that Martha was not to be found. " Where can she be ?" " Don 'no, Miss Fanny. She done clar out some whar, I reckon ; she got scart, 'cause she knew if Mass' Jack got hold ob her, she cotch it. Mass' Jack, he don't lub to whip, anyhow ; but, Ki, when he does." Viny shrug- ged her shoulders significantly. " I hopes he will ; good 'nuiF for her." " Why, Viny, I thought you and Marthy were good friends. You always used to take up for her, I 'm sure, What 's come over you ?" said Nanny. " Miss Nanny," said Viny, with a solemn shake of the head, " I 's done wid dat ar Marthy. When she turn right round, and spite Miss Car'line, and all her best friends, den I say, dat ar ain't Marthy, it 's de debble himself got into her, and de furder off I keep de better, 'cause mebbe he git inter me too. No, Miss Nanny, I 's particular what company I keeps." Viny set down her bucket with great energy. " Will pa get the men together, and go and hunt her up ?" inquired 'Ria. " No, I reckon not ;" said Nanny. " They most always 302 WESTERN BORDER LIFE. get sick of it themselves, and come back in two or three days. It 's likely she 's not far off, down yonder in the woods somewhere." " She asked me the way to the river the other day," said Maud. " She ?" said Viny, with uplifted hands. " She did n't show her smartness there," said Nanny. u A heap you could tell her about it." "Mebbe I know more than you think for, Miss Nanny," said her sister. " I did n't tell her, though, for aunty says it 's wicked to run away. I told her that." "You did? Well, you might have told her all you knew, for the hurt that would come of it. She could n't find her way to the river if 't was straight before her eyes. But, then, she '11 be back fast enough, there's no danger. Our people all know they don't better themselves by start- in' off so. Come, Viny, hook my frock, and don't be putterin' round all day about the chaniber work. I want my pink lawn to wear to church to-morrow, and now Marthy's off, there '11 be more for the rest of you to do," CHAPTER XXX. MARTHA SENT OVER THE BORDER, "Miss FANNY," said Maud, as she followed her teachet into the garden after tea, " was I so very bad yesterday when I scolded Marthy for tearin' your new gown ? What made you look so sorry at me ?" " I was sorry to see you so angry, Maud. It is always wrong to give way to our passions." " Well, must we always look pleased with folks when they do such spiteful things," said Maud. " I 'm sure, Miss Fanny, you must have felt sorry yourself, to see your pretty new frock, that you 've worked at so long, all torn and spoiled." " I did feel very sorry, Maud." " But you did n't want her whipped, Miss Fanny ?" " O, no ; I felt more sorry for Martha than I did for myself, though, as you say, it was hard to see my new frock ruined; but only think what unhappy, wicked feel- ings must have been in her heart, Maud, to make her do such a thing. Would n't you rather lose a frock than to feel as Martha did, when 'Ria found her up the new room stairs." Maud was silent. " I know you had, Maud, ten thousand times. I would rather lose every thing I had in the world, than to lose the control over my bad passions, and sin against God " 304 WESTERN BORDER LIFE. " I s'pose you mean me, too," said Maud in a low voice, pushing the toe of her shoe deep into the sand. " I got mad and felt wicked like Marthy." " My dear child, I was thinking of Martha entirely ; but you don't need me to tell you, that such feelings as you showed yesterday were all wrong." " Well, I was mad, Miss Fanny, and I did feel wicked and bad toward Marthy ; but I 'm sure I could n't help it, It was enough to make any body mad. It was so." " You have gained the victory over such feelings before now, Maud." " They are all in my heart, though, Miss Fanny ; I don't think I ever shall get 'em out." " You never will, unless you pray to God to help you, my dear child. O ! how I want to see you one of those * lambs of the flock,' that we sing about, Maud. A meek, lowly child of the blessed Jesus. Aunty and I are long- ing for the time when you will be a Christian." Maud shifted from one foot to the other, dug her shoe deeper into the sand, picked a marigold to pieces, and then looking up shook her head. " I can't never be that, Miss Fanny. There 's too much badness in me." " There 's more goodness and forgiving mercy in your dear Saviour. What is that hymn we learned last Sunday about coming to Jesus, 'just as I am.' " Maud repeated a verse. " ' Just as I am, without one plea, Save that my Saviour died for me, In all my sin and misery, 0, Lamb of God! I come! 1 And then there 's the big meetin' hymn, you know, Miss Fanny, that says, MARTHA SENT OVER THE BORDER. 305 a * Come, ye sinners, poor and needy, Lost and ruined by the fall, If you wait till you are better, You will never come at all. Hallelujah I Sinners Jesus came to call.* But, Misfe Fanny, I don't want to talk pious any more to- night ; and there 's Dave now comin' from the office. I mean to go and see if he 's got any letters," and Maud ran off as if only too glad of an excuse to get away. Fanny walked slowly up and down the garden, a few moments after the child left her. She thought about Maud with her impulsive spirit, and her warm, affection- ate heart, and sent up a silent petition, that Aunt Phebe's prayers and efforts might be crowned, by seeing the child of her love a Christian before she died; about poor Mar- tha and the punishment that probably awaited her ; and then her thoughts recurred to herself. She felt strangely at ease considering the uncertain position in which matters stood between herself and Harry Chester, and smiled as she thought of his ardent expression of feeling, followed by this long interval, of what one would suppose would be, to an earnest lover, a period of agonizing suspense. He certainly had made no effort to ascertain whether the happiness or misery which he had assured her it was in her power to bestow, was to be his lot ; and strange as it may seem, Fanny experienced none of those heart- flutter- ings, those alternations between hope and fear, so common to young ladies in similar circumstances. She felt a calm consciousness of possessing Harry Chester's affection, and she desired nothing more. In pleasant, tranquil thought, she paced up and down the waiks, till it began to grow dark, then returned to the house in time to hear Johnny repeat the little evening 306 WESTERN BORDER LIFE. prayer she had taught him, before he went to bed. Then Hetty held out her arms to be taken up, and by the time she was sung to sleep with " Little Bo Peep" and " Billy Boy," Dave was ready for a game at backgammon ; so that the short summer evening was soon spent, and Fan- ny thought no more of Maud until bedtime. Meanwhile the child wandered oft* down the lane, ran round the back way to give aunty a bunch of roses, and while standing idly in the doorway of the cabin, thinking that perhaps she had made Miss Fanny sorry again, she was seized with a sudden idea. "I know where she is," she said half aloud; " I '11 bet any thing she 's down by the branch, and I mean to go and find her, and fetch her back. It won't be dark this long time yet." Stopping only to tie up her shoe, and throw on her sun-bonnet, she started off for the woods. The branch was a little stream or tributary, as its name implied, of La Belle Creek ; and though on a bright summer day, the walk would not seem long, yet before Maud was half there, in the middle of the thick woods, into which she had plunged, night had already descended. Blacker and blacker grew the shadows between the trees, and more than once the child fancied she saw faces peering out at her from behind their trunks, for she was well versed in negro superstitions, and many a time had listened to Viny's ghost stories with breathless eagerness. It never once occurred to her to turn back. It was not in her nature to give up any project that she had under- taken, and so though the rustling of the leaves overhead, made her tremble, and once when a bird started up from a bush in her path, and nearly flapped his wings in her face, she screamed aloud, yet she still pressed forward. Just where the noisy little stream emptied itself irto th? MARTHA SENT OVER THE BORDER. 307 muddy waters of the creek, a few of the tall trees had been cut down, and Maud was glad to perceive that there was still a little daylight overhead. She stopped long enough to take a refreshing draught of water, a broad, green leaf serving her for a cup, and to rest a moment, but it was very lonely. The cricket's chirp, and the mournful notes of a whip-poor-will in the thick woods, were all the sounds she could hear, and she soon hastened along the bank of the stream. A little way up, at the bend of a steep hill, that skirted it on one side, the force of the water during several successive freshets had worn away quite a hollow, and here, a year or two before, a runaway negro from Mr. Turner's place, had built him- self a rude hut, and found a temporary retreat. It was almost in ruins, but still afforded a shelter from the heavy night dews, which in Missouri begin to fall at five o'clock. It was a wild, unfrequented spot, too, with water close at hand, and this was the place that Maud had fixed upon as the one to which Martha would be likely to resort. She was not disappointed. A pile of ashes and brands upon which the girl had baked her supper, was smoldering near the door of the hut, and upon some dried grass and leaves within, the runaway was stretched, fast asleep. This Maud saw, as soon as her eyes had be- come accustomed to the darkness of the place. She lost not a moment, but called her aloud by her name. At the first sound the girl sprang to her feet, and catching up a large club lying close at her side, she looked wildly round. " O Lord ! who 's dat ?" she exclaimed, as her eye fell upon Maud in the doorway. . " It 's only me, Marthy ! don't you know me ?" said Maud. The girl advanced a little way, and stirring up the fire 308 WESTERN BORDER LIFE. with her stick, a bright blaze sprang up, displaying the little shrinking figure in the doorway, with long, wet hair, and frightened eyes, and her own stout athletic form holding the heavy stick, and looking cautiously and fi 3rcely round in search of hidden enemies. " Yes, I know you^ she said at last, "and now where 'a de rest ?" "There ain't any body else, Marthy; I'm come all this way alone to fetch you home." " You come here alone ! dat's a likely story," said the girl. " S'pose dey goin' to send a chick like you inter de woods dis time night. No, no, yer can't cheat me dat ar way. Dar's more yonder in de woods. Let 'em come, I don't car'." u I declare, Marthy, there ain't the first person only me," said Maud, " and there did n't nobody send me neither, I come my own self." " Well, if you did, it was n't the safest place to come arter night. S'pose yer mammy like ter hab yer here, honey? Mighty lonesome in dese woods. Hey, Miss Maud ?" u I ain't afraid," said Maud, though she moved a little nearer the door. " Ho ! ho ! want to run, do ye ? S'pose yer could get away if I wanted ter keep yer, hey ?" " You don't want to keep me !" said Maud, boldly. " Don't I !" said the girl, with a wild laugh, and then suddenly grasping the child by one arm, and looking dowu into her face with such an expression of malignity and hatred, that Maud shrank and trembled before it. She continued in a half whisper, "Don't I? Ain't de debble standin' by dis minute arid tellin' me what to do wid yer, yer little toad, yer little serpent's egg. I'll do it, too!" fche said, setting her teeth and clenching the child r loser, MARTHA SENT OVER T II E 15 ORDER. 309 u Was n't yer sent here a purpose? O, Lord ! how easy I could hold yer dis way and smash in yer head, jest so, d'ye see ? Would dey hear yer holler, tink ? Would yer mammy hear yer, and feel like I did when dey made Tilla cry? Would any body know who did it, tink, or ebber find ye 'mong de snags and slime in de bottom ob de creek? Ho! ho!" As she stood brandishing the stick over the child's head, her eyes flashing and her whole body quivering with pas- si m, she looked equal to any deed of violence and blood, while her little victim, pale, trembling, and speechless with fright, was completely in her power. " O would n't dar be a fuss," she continued, appearing to gloat over the picture her imagination had formed. " How dey would take on 'about yer ; get out all de neigbors, mebbe, hab a grand hunt, den by-an-by p'raps find yer floatin' on de water, wid de mud in yer eyes and har ; toat yer up to de house. O Lord, de fun ! Miss Oar'line, she come screechin' and screamin' ! and I 'd clap both hands to hear her, so I would !" " O, Marthy, what does make you hate us so ?." said Maud, " I 'm sure we 've been good to you." " Good ! what yer call good ?" said the girl. " Was dey good to me when dey tuck Tilla, nothin' but a little suck- in' baby, 'way from her mammy's arms, and sent her 'way down riber, where she neber see her child again ? Was dey good to me, when dey keep her grin din' and workin* for 'em, week in and week out, and neber give her a kind word, but plenty ob kicks, and cuffs, and whippin's ! Is dat what yer call good ? O I did say dey was good when dey lef us two togedder. I neber said one word as long as dey let me keep my chil'. I did de best- I could, and I kep on cheerful and happy till the last- till- -till " she dropped the stick from her hand, and 310 WESTERN BORDER LIFE. covering her face with her ragged dress, cried out, Ci O Tilla! Tilla!" Now was Maud's time to escape, for the grasp upon her arm was removed, and in the bitterness of her grief Martha seemed unconscious that any one else was pres- ent. She threw herself upon the ground, and sv bbed and groaned like one in the extremity of mental anguish Something told Maud, however, that all danger was over and pity and surprise kept her chained to the spot. "Marthy," she said, at last, "I don't hate you. I 'm sorry Tilla 's dead, and I 'm sorry I got so mad with you yesterday. I came here to tell you so this very night." "You are like all de rest," said Martha, suddenly, rising to her feet, her face wearing its same hard expression. "Dar ain't no odds. Dey larns you to beat us, and bang us, quick as yer old 'nuff to use yer lists. And we can't help it. Did n't I know dey was killin my chil' ? Did n't I see her jest pinin' away and growin' weaker eb'ry day ? An' did n't I beg Miss Car 'line, for de Lord's sake, to save her. She! What she car' so dar was 'nuff left to do her biddin'. I said I 'd done," she continued, dashing the tears from her eyes ; " I thought de softness was all driv' out ob my heart, and nothin' left but hate. I 's sure it feels hard enough, ar?d heavy enough," and she laid both hands upon her bosom, and drew a long breath. " Can't you pray ?" said Maud, softly. " Aunty prays when she feels bad." " Who to ?" said Martha, sharply. " Not de Lord. He's done got through with me. He won't hear to nothin' I say. I prayed him not to let Tilla diu, and he did. I don' no, I don't reckon dar is no Lord, but dar 's a debble, I knows dat, for he 's been a standin' by me dis bery night, a temptin' me on." " Mebbe God was there too, holdin' you back," said MARTHA SENT O V E K THE BORDER. oil Maud. "Oh, Marthy!" she continued, tears of pity and kindness running down her cheeks, "'you must pray and try to come good. I 'm bad, too, and I hated you till I prayed, and now I don't hate you one bit, and I 'm real sorry for you. I don't want you to stay in the dark woods all night ; won't you come right home with me ; O see how dark it is. I must go this minute." " Is Mass' Jack, and Miss Car'line, and all ob 'em dar ?" said the girl. " Yes, but I don't reckon pa will whip you, Marthy. I '11 beg him not to, 'cause you 9 ve had such a hard time without." " Do you 'spose it 's a whippin' I 'm 'fraid ob ? Hav n't deydone worser tings to me dan hurtin' dis poor body. No, no. I 's done bein' 'fraid. Dar ain't nothin' to be 'fraid ob, now Til la's dead. I wants 'em all dar, I does. Yes, Miss Maud, I '11 go," and, suiting the action to the word, she stalked out into the darkness, leaving Maud to follow as she could. Follow she did, through bush, and briar, and brake, partly walking and partly running, to keep pace with Martha's hasty steps, and with all her efforts occasionally falling far behind, and losing sight of her in the darkness. Once pausing, lost and bewildered among the trees, she only traced the direction her companion had taken by the crackling of the underbrush, through which she passed, and exerting all her little strength, pushed on to overtake her. Any company seemed preferable to solitude in these dark woods. Her courage had been put to a severe test, and the little that remained, seemed scarcely sufficient to carry her through that dreary walk ; but, when at length they reached the opening of the woods, the thought that she was so near home inspired her with fresh vigor, and bounding before her companion, she rushed through tho 312 WESTERN BORDER LIFE. yard, and into the midst of the anxious and astonished circle. " Here she is," exclaimed half a dozen glad voices, and Maud saw the look of welcome light up those dear home faces, that half an hour before she thought she should never see again. " Oh, Maud, where have you been ? How could you stay away so late, and scare us all nigh to death ? Why, child, you look as pale as a piece of bleached linen. Are you took sick ? Has any " Mrs. Catlett suddenly stopped, for close behind Maud, her glittering eyes fixed upon her mistress, stood Martha, the runaway. "You back again! 1 ' she said, as soon as she regained her utterance. Martha did not reply, but looked at Maud for an ex- planation. "You see, ma, I found her down by the branch. I 've been to fetch her home," said Maud. " Oh, Maud, my child, how dared you ?" said her mother, forgetting, in her appreciation of the danger, even to scold. " And you, Marthy, what have you got to say for yourself? Got tired of your quarters in the woods pretty quick, did n't you ?" " Miss Car'line, I 's come back," said the girl, " and I's got jest one thing to say. I 's been on this place nigh about eighteen years, and now I 's done with it. I can't stay here no ways, and dat's what I corne to tell Jfr." She spoke rapidly, and with a kind of dogged Jeter- mination, but without raising her eyes from the floor. It was hard, in the presence of her mistress, to overcome the old habit of submission, and openly rebel against the authority to which she had yielded so long. "You can't stay here? You've done with it all!" MARTHA SENT O V K R THE BORDER. 313 repeated Mrs. Catlett, bewildered by the sudden an- nouncement. "What do you mean, you hussy?" "Jest what I say, Miss Car'line. I 's done your bid- din' dese eighteen year, and now I must go somewhar else. Dat's all." " That 's all ! Well, I must say, Mr. Catlett, that 's laying it off cool. Did you ever hear the like of that? I always thought you was a saucy wench, but this goes a little beyond. You are gettin' tired, are you, and want to be your own mistress? Mighty independent, ain't you ? Come, any thing more?" " Miss Car'line, 't ain't no use talkin'. I sha'n't be any 'count on dis place. I 'm clar set dar. If Mass' Jack would sell me now. Dar's a trader down yonder to de store makin' up a gang for Texas." She turned to Mr. Catlett as she spoke, who, with his chair tilted back against the wall, sat smoking a cigar. " And what in thunder do you want to go to Texas for?" he said, looking at her in astonishment! "This is the first time I ever heard any of you ask to be sent down river. Do you reckon you 'd find it any easier there ? They work 5 em up pretty well on them plantations, you *d better believe. What 's come over you, gal ?" " I don'no, Mass' Jack ; 'pears like dar could n't be nothin' worse dan livin' on dis place. But if massa don't want to sell me down river, mebbe he 'd send rue over to Massa Dave. I don't car' whar I go, so it 's off ob dia place. Massa talked 'bout sendin' me dar once ; but den I did n't want to go, cause cause now de Lord knows I can't get far enuff." "Why, sakes alive ! just to hear her run on," said Mrs. Catlett. " What makes you waste words on her, Mr. Cat- Ntt ; don't you see she's got to have a regular breakin* in ? Here, you Marthy, we '11 show you there 's some- 14 -114 WESTERN BORDER LIFE. thing new to be learned on this place, before we send you oif to another. What have you got to say about where you '11 go and what you '11 do ? Do you know who you belong to ?" " Yes, Miss Car'line," said Martha, looking her mistress full in the face, " I knows. No danger ob forgettin' dat on dis place. I b'longs to you, sure enough ; but there 'a one way of gettin' clar, and I '11 do it, too. No use tryin' to stop me, Mass' Jack, I will speak. Miss Car'line, you has brought me down. You 's been bringin' me down dese eighteen years, and I 's had all de bringin' down I kin bar. Now jest hear to me. Sell me off down riber, or somewhar. I don't car' how far off, so I get far enuff off from dis place. I '11 be a good servant. I '11 do de best I can for somebody else. I will so but I call de Lord to witness, dat if you won't do dis, I '11 go drown myself in de creek de fus chance I get. You know I '11 do it if I say so, and dar can't nobody stop me. If you watch me day times, I '11 steal off when you are asleep ; and if you tie me up, I'll starve myself till you let me .oose. Leastways I won't be no more gain on dis yer place. I don't want to live, anyhow. Satan tried to have me do it when I was down in de woods. I '11 do it, too." Mr. Catlett rose while she was speaking, and whispered a word or two to one of the servants, who immediately left the room. " Now, then," he said, placing himself directly in front, and fixing his eyes sternly upon her. " N )w, then, you 've had your say, I '11 have mine. All this sounds mighty grand, and you think it 's smart to be threatenin' your lawful owners to drown yourself, and all that; but just let me tell you, such things ain't so easy done. Mebbe we shall find a way to take you down a peg or two. We 've been a mighty sight too good to you, and there '8 MARTHA SENT OVER THE BORDER 316 where the trouble lies. Here, Uncle Jim," he continued, as a stout black man appeared at the door, " take this girl and lock her up in the old smoke he use till mornin'. She '11 likely think better of her plans bejore we 've done with her." " Pa," said Maud, who, seated on a low stool, had list- ened to this conversation with breathless interest, " don't whip her, please. I told her I reckoned you would n't if she 'd come back and be good." " She looks like it," said Nanny. u Hush children, all of you," said their father, angrily. " This is my business now." Meanwhile Uncle Jim had laid hold of his prisoner, who offered not the least resistance, and was leading her off. " Lors, Uncle Jim," she said, u you need n't hold me so tight. I sha'n't run away no more till I go for good and all. Mass' Jack, I 's given you fa'r warnin' ; Misa Maud, don't you fret, I ain't afeard of a whippin' ;" and she disappeared in the doorway. " Mr. Catlett," said his wife, when the younger mem- bers of the family were off for the night, "it 's my opinion you 'ii Lve to sell that girl." " Smart business that would be, to do just the thing she wants." "I know, but you '11 lose her if you don't. I 've seen enough of her obstinacy to know that she '11 do as she said the first minute she can get the chance. She 's got just devil enough in her for that, and would as lief drown her- gelf, if she took the notion, as to eat her dinner. If there is a trader down to the store, it would n't do any harm to see him, and find out if he'd give a fair price for the girl". " I won't give in to her in that way. Do you reckon I waut, her to think I 'm scared at ter threats. You see it 816 WESTERN BORDER LIFE. would have the worst kind of effect on the other servant* Half a dozen of 'em heard her talkin' in that saucy way; and if you mean to keep any order in the house, you'd better let me manage." " Well, there 's another thing, Mr. Catlett. The chil- dren's lives ain't safe with that creature round. Here was Maud frightened all but to death, and says Marthy threat- ened to kill her. I reckon it was n't so bad as that ; but then she is mighty dangerous. I can't bear the sight of her either. I 'd rather lose something on her, than have her round another year. But there 's no danger of losing. Niggers never were higher, and she always was a stout, healthy-lookin' girl. Come, Mr. Catlett, I reckon you'd better ride down to the store in the morning, and see what kind of a bargain you can make." "I tell you I won't do just the thing she wants," said Mr. Catlett. " Well, if you don't want to do that, send her over to Dave awhile, till she gets cooled down a little. I'm sure you said he needed another hand, and she '11 do very well in the field. The fact is, Mr. Catlett, I'm afraid of the girl, and if you tried to whip her, you 'd have an awful time of it before you broke her spirit. Now you see she 'd do well enough for Dave, and you 'd get her off your hands as quiet as you please." " Poor Dave seems to have trouble enough over there, without adding a she devil to his gang, but I don't know but you've got the right of it, after all," said Mr. Catlett, with a yawn. Perhaps he was convinced by the force of his wife's ar- guments, and perhaps he had been secretly of the opinion all along that this would be the easiest way to settle the matter, and only argued the case lest his firmness and res- olution should be called in question. Certain it is that MARTHA SENT OVER THE BOEDER. 317 he finally adopted her last plan, and it was settled that Martha should be sent to Dave. To Dave she was ac cordingly sent the next day, Mr. Catlett driving her over, with her bundle of clothes, in the farm-wagon. She received the news of her disposal with a kind of sullen in- difference, merely saying, that it " did n't make no odds to her," but Mrs. Catlett declared when she was gone, that a curse was taken off the place. While the old folks were discussing the matter below stairs, the children were not silent above. Maud was the heroine of the evening, and descanted at length upon the horrors of her situation, while her listeners plied her with questions and exclamations. "Maud," said Cal, after they had all gone to bed, "didn't you feel awful when she stood there, vith that great stick over your head, looking so ugly, and you all alone in the woods ? Did you think she was goin' to kill you, sure enough?" " Well, I did for a minute, Cal, and at first I was so scared, I could n't think of any thing, and at last I thought about aunty, and pa, and ma, and Miss Fanny, and all of you, and that I should n'l ever see you again, and O, so many things came into my thoughts all at once." " What things, Maud ?" " O, I don't know things that I 'd done, but the bad ones most of all." " That was funny." "And then I remembered the story Miss Fanny told us about Daniel in the lion's den, and how he prayed, and God wouldn't let the old lions hurt him." " Did you pray ?" " Not much. I tried to, but I could n't think of any thing to say, only Johnny's prayer that he says nights. I prayed that, and a little on to the end of it." 318 WESTERN BOEDER LIFE. "What did you put on the end of it? That God would n't let Marthy kill you ?" "Yes, and that He'd take me up to heaven if she did, but it was n't any use, I know." " Why not, Maud ?" " Because I have n't repented of my sins, and Miss Fanny says we must, or we can't go to heaven." " O Maud, was n't you afraid to die ? I think it 's dreadful to be buried in the ground, like grandma, and lit- tle Neddy." " I would n't be afraid," said Maud, " if I was like aunty and Miss Fanny, I tell you, Cal, when they die, they '11 go right up to God." " I wish it was n't so hard to be good," said Cal, with a sigh. " I 'm sure I want to go to heaven when I die. Don't you, Maud ?" " Cal," said Maud, " if I had died down there in the woods to-night, I should n't have gone to heav *,n. I know I should n't." " Mebbe you would, Maud. Any way you did n't die, BO I would n't feel bad about it." " I can't help it, Cal. I keep thinkin' about it all the while, and O, dear, I wish I was a Christian." " I reckon Miss Fanny would love to hear you say that, Maud." " I ran away from her to-night," said the child, " 'cause she talked pious to me. O, dear, how wicked I am." " Well, never mind, Maud. I 'm sure it won't do any good to cry about it. Mebbe if you ask God He '11 give you a c new heart.' Miss Fanny says that 's what we must pray for." A new heart ! Maud whispered the words over many times to herself, and with the simple prayef upon her lips ahe fell asleep. CHAPTER XXXI. JACK CATLETT'S SUNDAY KAMBLE. ONE warm Sunday afternoon, Mr. Catlett, after accom- panying some guests to the gate, sauntered down the lane and through the path in the woods, leading up the creek to the saw-mill. The day was very beautiful, and the sober stillness of nature contrasted with the boisterous merriment of his late companions, impressed itself even upon him, and he walked thoughtfully along. As he turned a bend in the creek, a strain of music was borne on the air to his ear, and as it was long past the time of the servants' meeting, the place besides being too distant for any sound from thence to reach him, he paused a mo- ment to listen, wondering who it could be. It sounded like the voices of children, and finding its way through the branches, seemed to come down to him from the very tree-tops a low, pleasant murmur, now rising, now falling, now wandering all about in the sweet air, and then descending softly till it died away in silence, like the music of some distant waterfall, heard in the pauses of the wind. As he proceeded, the sounds grew louder and more distinct, and his rapid steps soon brought him to an opening among the trees, and looking a little way up the stream, he perceived at once where the musiu came from. On fragments of the broken bridge, and on the mossy trunk )f an old tree that lay across it, a group of children 320 WESTERN BORDER LIFE. were seated, and in their midst, with the youngest in her lap, and the others close about her, sat the " little Con necticut school-marm." She was teaching them a hymn, reading a vers,. from the book in her hand, which the chil- dren repeated after her many times, until they could recite It alone, then singing it with them, and so on to the next verse. He knew that it was a hymn, for though too dis- tant to distinguish the words, they sang them in an old psalm tune, that he remembered well, and that came back to him now like the murmur of home voices; for years and years ago, he had sung it when a boy, in the green woods near his father's door. Again and again they repeated the strain, the teacher's voice in low, sweet tones, commencing the line, but soon lost in the chorus of young voices that took it up, till the old woods rang again with the melody. It was a pretty sight that group of little ones on the bridge, with the trees for a canopy overhead, and the water flowing be- neath their feet, singing the praises of God among His most beautiful works. There was a chastened, subdued look upon their young faces, far from sad, but suggestive of the day and of the employment in which they were engaged, while in her simple white dress, her pale face lighted up with a smile of praise, and calm happiness, she who sat with them as teacher, looked scarcely less youth- ful than they. The last verse was sung, and the book closed, before Mr. Catlett left the spot; and then turning back, after a few steps, he heard the murmur of a voice speaking in earnest tones, saw her pointing upward, and knew that she was telling his children about God and heaven. He did not go up to the saw-mill, as he had intended; he had no wish to pass the group on the bridge ; so steal- ing as a guilt} person back into the woods, he walked JACK CATLETT'S SUNDAY RAMBLE. 321 hastily toward home, whistling a lively air as he went, and stopping in the lane for a frolic with the dogs. But as he passed the parlor window, and caught a glimpse within, of his daughter Nanny and Miss Belle Turner, in their Sunday finery, laughing and coquetting with two or three of the prairie beaux, he thought of the young girl with her pale face and simple white dress, whom he had just left singing hymns down at the old bridge. He won- dered what made the difference. " Mr. Catlett," said his wife that evening, " what do you think about this teaching the children so much relig- ion ? Here 's Johnny knows two or three hymns a'ready, and Maud has learned a whole chapter in the Bible by heart. Can't you stop it some way ?" " What for ? Don't they learn any thing else ?" " Lors, yes, they are getting on right smart with their books ; but if she goes on with 'em this way, I 'm afraid they'll get to be Methodists one of these days. I reckon you 'd better hint to her to hold up a trifle." " Well, now, I thought you women believed in religion. What 's come over you ?" " I have n't said any thing against religion. I think it 's a good thing in its way. My grandfather was an elder in the Presbyterian church in Richmond, nigh about twenty years, and most all my kin are professors. Of course I 've no objection to attending church, and all that ; but you see she goes into it so strong, that she makes the children think they are just the wickedest creatures in the world; and here comes little Joy the other day, telling me it 's wicked to get mad, that the Bible says so, and all that, the impudence! as though any body could help gettin' mad, with such a house full of servants as I ha/e to manage." " O, ho ! there 's where the shoe pinches, is it ? Th 14* 322 WESTERN BORDER LIFE. religion that gives a good knock now and then at our own sins, ain't the thing at all. Well, now, look here, wife, we ought to think ourselves lucky to hire a chaplain and a school-teacher all together. Mebbe she '11 sanctify us all, if she only stays here long enough." " Well, you may joke about it, but I tell you it will likely work mischief one of these days. She '11 be teachin' the servants next. We 've got one prayin' Methodist on the place, and that 's enough, I should hope." "You never had a better servant, let me tell you, than this same prayin' Methodist you tell about." " O, Aunt Phebe is well enough. It 's dreadful tiresome to hear her run on sometimes. I 'm sure I don't know what to do with two of 'em." u Let 'em alone, wife, that 's the best thing you can do, It won't hurt any of us to get a dab now and then." CHAPTER XXXII. ALL TO KANZAS. THE plan of a visit to Dave on his new farm, discussed by Miss Nanny and the teacher in St. Louis, had not been given up. "After harvesting," Mr. Catlett all along said, " they would certainly go," and accordingly no sooner was that busy season over, than the young people grew impa- tient for the fulfillment of his promise. " Every body wa going," murmured Maud, " except we little folks, and 'Ria, who was going to keep house. Great times there would be with >Ria for mistress. The summer had been unusually warm. For weeks a hot dry wind blew from the south, a prickly, irritating wind, that heated, rather than cooled the air, and which Nanny thought so injurious to the complexion, that she sat all day in a huge sun-bonnet, a covering that exposed her to all sorts of attacks from the younger children, who could approach her on three sides without being dis- covered, and who delighted to tease her with their monkeyish tricks, just, as Johnny said, "to hear her fret." So oppressive was the weather that even the heavy dews that fell at night failed to cool the air, and the grass and the foliage looked parched and withered. Accustomed to a cooler climate, Fanny suffered more through this season than any other member of the family. It was with no small effort that she overcame the languor and debility occasioned by the extreme heat, sufficiently 324 WESTERN BORDER LIFE. to perform her daily duties. The sun poured its rays directly down upon the little school-house, and many a time by the middle of the day her head would throb so dizzily, that she could hardly read the book before her. The children, however, knew nothing of this. At such times her voice was more subdued, and her manner more gentle than usual, while with unwearied patience she ex- plained the difficult passages in their lessons, drew pictures for Johnny on the slate, and set the copies for the closing exercise. If now and then she pressed her hand to her head with a look of pain, it was done so quietly that they did not observe it. " Miss Fanny never gets mad," said Cal. " If we act bad, she looks at us so sorry, it makes us feel a heap worse than if she scolded." But after all were gone and the door closed behind them, the young teacher looked from the low window upon the wide waste of withered grass, and contrasted it with the green orchards of New England. The old parsonage, with its sloping yard in front, where the poplars cast their long shadows at this hour, the tidy flower-garden behind, and the blue mountain stretching away in the distance, came back to her view, until, sick and weary, the tears rose to her eyes, and she sank down upon her chair, to dream a little while about home. " Our ' Connecticut school-marm' needs this trip as much as any body," Mr. Catlett remarked, " she 's getting as pale as a lily, and I have n't heard her laugh right hearty for a week. Come cheer up, Miss Fandango. We '11 take you over there where the breezes blow. The land ? a higher, they say, and it 's all-fired hot on the prairie, and no mistake." The day was set once and even twice for their departure, but several things had happened to postpone it. Mr. Catlett could hardly make up his mind that it was #afe to ALL TO KANZAS. 325 go. He knew all about the border troubles, and that an expedition was now being planned to invade the country, and force slavery upon the people. He well knew, for he had been required to subscribe largely, how great this preparation was. Nor did he deem it safe to traverse the country with a party of ladies, at a time when he would be liable to encounter an army of his fellow-mis- sionaries, with plenty of whisky along. He, therefore, waited, before starting, until he could receive certain news of the intended invasion. This intelligence he at last ob- tained. Ascertaining that the army would not assemble for at least six weeks, he determined to seize the oppor- tunity, and make the long-wished-for visit. So Mr. Catlett and his wife, Nanny and the teacher, with Mr. Tom Walton for an escort, set off one fine morn- ing upon horseback, while big William followed more leisurely, in the farm-wagon full of household goods. Dave was waiting to receive his guests, and after a right cordial greeting, conducted them with no little pride and satisfaction to the door of the cabin which had been built especially for their accommodation. It stood close beside his own, and was divided into two apartments, the one for Mr. Catlett and his wife, the other for the young ladies. It was a cozy little affair, and Jinny and Adeline had taken a deal of trouble to prepare it for their arrival, ar- ranging the few articles of furniture which had been sent over from the prairie, to the best advantage. The little mirror was trimmed round with wild flowers, and some four-o'clocks, and morning-glories were growing undei the windows, while Uncle Tim had manufactured, after his own fashion, a couple of wooden flower-pots to stand on the table. That worthy individual also led them in the course of the day along a shady path a little distance from the house, and brought them suddenly upon a swing, 326 WESTERN BORDER LIFE. which he had suspended from one of the tall trees, placing close by a rude bench, whereon they might repose when weary. His delight at the young ladies' expressions of pleasure, was good to behold, and even Mrs. Catlett remain- ed cheerful and happy through the whole of the first day. " Well, Tim, how are the crops ?" inquired Mr. Catlett. " Going to make a good year of it, boy ?" "Poorly! poorly! Mass' Jack. You see we got put back heaps in de spring. Twice dat ar corn hab to be planted, and de third crop got kinder wilted down, de sun was so hot 'fore it started. Den t'ain't good land for 'backy, nohow, and taters, well dey's fa'r yes, taters is fa'r, but dat's all you ken say 'bout 'em. Mass' Dave won't make his fortin off dis year's crop." " Well, never mind, Tim. Better luck next year, meb- be. Now, old lady, are you going to make yourself com- fortable here for a month or so, hey ?" " Well, yes, it looks real snug, Mr. Catlett. I s'pose, though, we shall have some trouble. I sha'n't stay here to have bullets whizzin' in at my windows. If there 's any such tantrums as that cut up, I shall leave, that 's all." " Nonsense, ma ; who 's afraid. I think it 's perfectly charming /" this was one of Nanny's city phrases. u And, Miss Fanny, don't you remember how Cousin Julia was always talking about her father's beautiful country resi- dence ? When we write, we can tell her that we have got a country residence too." Fanny did not hear, for Tom Walton was whispering something in her ear at the moment an occupation to which he had devoted himself all along the ride from the prairie. More than once the jealous Nan had nudged her mother, and said softly, " Tom is making love." " Making fiddlesticks," said Mrs. Catlett. The day passed with the usual chat among families when united, and all went merry as a marriage bell. CHAPTER XXXIII. THE SQUATTER'S REVENUE. ONE night, not long after the arrival of Dave's visitors, the girl Martha was straggling about in the woods sur- rounding her young master's claim. Her restless, feverish spirit, seemed to find comfort in these expeditions, and no matter how hard the day's work, or how weary the body, night usually found her wandering about in the darkness, like some evil angel intent on mischief, and yet fearing to do any thing for the lack of helpers. To-night she had strayed further than was her w r ont, and having got somo miles from home, how far she knew not, she found herself in the middle of a thick growth of trees, entangled with under-brush, where, after wandering awhile, she became completely bewildered, and knew not which way to go. In the midst of 1 er perplexity, she came suddenly upon a rude sort of habitation, part wigwam, part log-cabin, built deep in the woods. A bright light streamed through the cracks, and guided her steps to the entrance, where, with torn feet and limbs she asked for admittance. " Who 's there ?" cried a sharp female voice. " Zi, your gun ! Quick, boy, we are tracked ! we are discovered ! Now stand by your mother. Shoot 'em if they are a dozen." " No, don't shoot," said Martha, " it 's only me, a poor lost nigger, no account, anyhow. Won't harm you. Hates nobody but Mann Catlett, that killed my Tilla." 828 WESTERN BORDER LIFE. " Did you say you hated Catlett ?" said anothei voice ; " Catlett of La Belle Prairie ? Do you hear that mother ? Good ! You can't hate him worse than we do. Shall I undo the door ?" " I did n't say I hated Massa Jack. It 's Miss Car'line I hates de wust. She killed my child, but he let her and, yes, I hates him, too. O, do let me in. 'Pears like I should die." They heard her sobbing without. " Undo the door, Zi," said the woman's voice, "it can't do no harm, anyhow. If she 's an enemy, she '11 bring him here, and he '11 find a way to get in, without our leave ; and if, as she says, she hates the man, why" she whis- pered something to the boy, who immediately undid tho door, and Martha entered. " You are hurt and you are shivering," said the woman, surveying the forlorn object before her ; " but before ever you warm yourself at our fire, swear that you hate that man, that devil in human shape, that you spoke of outside the door." Her vehemence seemed to astonish even Martha. " Why, lors, missus, what has he done to harm you V" she said. " What has he done ? Did n't he murder my man in cold blood ! The best and the kindest husband, and the father of my children ! Did n't he ? And bring him in and throw him down at my feet like a dead dog ! He stood by when I wiped off the death sweat, and says I, * Speak one word more, John,' and says he, ' They murdered me like cowards !' I cursed him then, standing by the dead body of him that he killed, and I vowed to myself that I 'd be revenged. Did n't they drive the widow and the orphans from their home, with only this boy to pro- tect 'em? And does n't his own son warm himself at my hearth-stone, with my roof to cover him ? A lazy, good- THE SQUATTEK'S KEVENGE. 329 for-nothing devil, that shoots in the woods all day ! Good Lord, girl, is n't that harm enough ? Do you ask why I hate 'em ?" " And have n't I reason to hate 'em, too ? Did n't dey kill my Tilla ! my child ! and bury her in de swamp ?" 44 Did they, did they kill your baby ?" 44 They made her work when she was sick and ailin', till she died, and they would n't hear to me nor Miss Fanny, when we begged 'em for de good. Lord's sake not to do it." " Was she your child ?" 44 De same, missus, de very same. Mammy put her inter my arms when she was a little baby, and says she, 4 Take care ob her, Marthy. I gib her to you.' Dey sold mammy down river, you see, and Tilla and me was left alone. I always called her my child, and I couldn't have loved her better if she had been." 44 Poor thing ! they did you this great harm, then, and you '11 hate them for it as long as you live. You need n't swear. We are even, but, girl, do you know wh^ revenge is, and how sweet it is ?" 44 Don't I ?" said Martha, grating her teeth. " Has n't the debble stood by me times, drivin' me on, and oh, missus, once he put de way straight afore me. One dark night alone in de woods, dat child, her child, missus, dat killed my Tilla, was sent to de bery place where I wus. Dar wasn't a livin' soul nigh, and de creek run a little way >ff. O, why did n't I do it ?" " Did you want to kill the child ?" 44 1 did n't do it, missus. I said de debble told me to. Mebbe I '11 do it yet, though, for all I let her go." 44 Zi, she '11 do," said the woman. " We can trust her. Will you join with us, and keep a secret, and help us to do them a mighty mischief one of these days ?" 330 WESTERN BORDER LIFE. " Won't I ?" said Martha, a fiendish smile playing over her face. u Sit nigher then, and speak low. The very wind may carry it to his ears." " Not to-night, mother. Don't tell her to-night. The time has n't come yet," said Zi. " Well, well boy, when then ? You are always for put- ting it off, and I never shall sleep in peace, or the dead man rest in his grave, till the mischief is done." " Come here again a week from to-night, girl, do you understand, and if every thing is right, we'll let you know what to do. And, mother, you forget that it's after midnight, and I have n't had a mouthful of supper." " True, true, boy, I forget every thing now-a-days but my wrongs. Those are fresh enough in my mind. Well, bring in the milk, Zi, while I take up the ash-cake. There, sit down on that stool, girl. Have you had any thing to eat ?" "Do you keep cows ?" *"' The nicest you ever see gives plenty of milk." " Mass' Dave keep three, and Adeline say dey all dryin' up. Can't squeeze over a quart out of nary one of 'era." u Ha! ha! ha!" roared Zi. "Don't know how to take care of 'em, you see. Ours are first-rate, ain't they, mother ?" "It 's the ';urse, girl. Dave Catlett can't get any cows that will give him milk. Have you ever heard any bul- lets whiz^mg round them ?" " O, missus, it 's the dreadfullest place. Aunt AdcTme ghe 'most goes crazy. She says it 's de debble. She want to get back to de prairie." " Ha ! ha f ha!" roared the boy again. " It 's haunted, sure enough." "Zi, Zi, 't will be time enough to laugh when you win, THE SQUATTER'S REVENGE. 331 Come, boy, eat your supper. Sit up, girl, we are on equal terms in this matter. There 's a close bond between us." Zi, his mother, and Martha, made their meal over a board, with a pitch-pine knot burning for light, the same the slave had seen through the cracks of the hovel. It was near morning when Martha said she must hurry back before the sun rose, to her day's work. The boy accom- panied her a little distance to point out the way, and just as they were about to separate seized her roughly by the arm, and cocking his pistol, held it within a few inches of her breast. " Do you see this ?" he said, sternly. " Yes, massa," said the trembling girl. " Now hear me, then. If you betray us, if you dare to tell those hell-hounds where we are, as sure as you stand here alive, one of these bullets shall go through your heart. I '11 hunt you out if I search the world for you. Do you understand ?" " Yes, massa. O, please, massa, take it away. De Lord knows I hates 'em as bad as you do." " Well, go then," he said, apparently satisfied. Away sped Martha like a wild deer, leaping among the underbrush, and finally disappearing in the thick woods, while the boy took his way slowly back to the cabin. CHAPTER XXXIV. TOM WALTON PLAYS THE FOOL. " NANNY, who 's that yonder riding down the hill at such a furious rate?" " Goodness, ma, it 's Tom Walton. I think he 'd better live over here and done with it. He's* been to visit us three weeks hand runnin'." " There goes Nan to prink, now," said Dave, as his sis- ter ran into the other room; "just as if all the beaux came to see her." " Well, who does Tom Walton come to see, if it is n't Nanny ?" said her mother, with some spirit. " Who did he bring that great nosegay to yesterday, ma, and run down in the woods after when he found she 'd gone to walk ?" "Nonsense, Dave, he never would think of addressing a poor teacher like her. What are you talking about ?" " He might make a worse choice if he did," said the young gentleman. " Well, you seem to find a great deal to admire in that little pale-faced girl. But as to Mr. Walton, I think he pays her very little respect. He always used to get Nanny down to the piano the very first thing when we were at home." " Yes, and talk to Miss Fanny all the while. I >ve seen him," said Dave. u Go way, Dave, you are too smart," said his mother. TOM WALTON PLAYS T HE FOOL. 335 " Well, there he comes up the walk," said Dave, " in his white pants and yellow vest. I reckon I must go and meet him. Tom Walton's a pretty clever fellow, and I don't think any the worse of him for likin' Miss Fanny." An hour after, as Mrs. Catlett was in her part of the cabin arranging things for the night, Nanny entered, her carefully curled hair dangling about her ears, and her mus- lin dress lank and heavy with the dew. " Why, child, where have you been ?" said her mother. " O, ma, such doin's ! Tom Walton ! the teacher !" said Nanny, short for breath. " What of them ? Can't you speak ? Why, child, how you act." " I can't help it. I 'm so flustered. Only think of it, ma ; she 's rejected him !" " Rejected Torn Walton !" exclaimed Mrs. Catlett, astonished in her turn by the intelligence. " You are wild !" " ^To, I 'm not. I heard it with my own ears, or else I never would have believed it," said Nanny. " What ! reject Tom Walton, the handsomest young fel- low on the prairie, and with his eighty thousand at least ! Nanny, somebody's been telling you a story." " Did n't I tell you I heard it with my own ears," said Nanny, half crying with impatience and vexation. " Well, don't fret, Nanny ; sit down and tell me all about it," said Mrs. Catlett. " How in the world did you hear it?" u Why you see, ma, after sunset we went out to walk Mr. Walton, and Miss Fanny and me ; and he just talked to her all the time, and didn't pay me any respect; so by and by I got vexed, and said I 'd stop at the swing. Miss Fanny she tried not to have me, but I would. Well, by-and-by I heard em coming back, and I hid in the 834 WESTERN BORDER LIFE. bushes till they went by, and Miss Fanny she says, 4 Where's Nanny ? let me go and find her,' or something like that ; and lie caught hold of her and told her not to, for he had something particular to say to her. And then, ma, they sat down on the bench by the swing, and I right behind in the bushes, and I could hear every word he said. I declare I never was so surprised in all my life, and I could n't stir, you know, because they would find me out." "Well, what did they say?" inquired Mrs. Catlett, eagerly. " O, he came right out with it the first thing, and told her he never saw any body before that he liked half so well; that he had wanted to tell her so a long time back; and that if she would accept his heart and hand, he should be a very happy man. He said it just as if he had learned it all by heart, and in such a proud kind of a way, as if she would say yes in a minute." " And why should n't she ? Any girl 's a fool that would n't." " But she did n't, though, ma. I could n't hear what she said very well, she spoke so low, but it was something about being very sorry, that she had felt afraid that it was coming to this, and that she would gladly have spared him the pain. Ma, you never heard any body break in as he did, right here. He asked her what she meant, and whether she understood what he said? in such an angry way, that it fairly frightened me." " How dared she?" said Mrs. Catlett. " She said yes, and ever so much more, but I could n't understand it. I only caught a word here and there, but it was plain enough to see that she refused him right out and out." " And she nothing but a poor teacher, not worth a cent in the world ! How did he take it ?" TOM WALTON P L A. Y S THE FOOL. 335 " He did n't say a word for about a minute. It seemed as though he did n't know what to make of it, and when he did speak, his voice sounded so strange, just as if he was angry, and was try in' to keep it in. He said he hoped she would n't trifle with him ; that she would think better of it he was sure ; and O, ma, he began to plead so earn- estly. I could n't tell you half he said ; but she stopped him right in the middle of it, in her decided way, and then he rushed away from her as if he was mad, and she fol- lowed him, so that I could n't hear any more ; but they made it up somehow, for he shook hands with her under the tree a moment after, and looked so sorry it went to my heart. Now, ma, did you ever see anything like it?" " She was a perfect goose !" said Mrs. Catlett. " No girl in her senses would refuse such an offer. She '11 never get such another chance as long as she lives. I 'm per- fectly astonished that such a fellow as Tom Walton should want her." " I know it, ma, and she took it as cool as if she was used to such things. She 's out there in the yard, now, talking with black Jinny, just as if nothing had happened." ***** *** " Why, Tom, are you going to ride to-night ?" said Dave, who was leaning against a tree, when Mr. Walton came by. " Yes," said the young man, abruptly. " Well, I '11 ride along with you a mile or two," said Dave. " It 's too dull staying here, and here 's pa's horse ready geared. Which way ?" he continued, as Mr. Walton seemed undecided how to turn his horse's head. " Any way, it don't make any odds," was the reply, and digging his heels into his horse's sides, the young man started off at such a pace, that Dave found some difficulty in keeping up with him. 336 WESTERN BORDER LIFE. u For goodness' sake, Tom, hold up, can't you ?" said Dave, after they had ridden at this pace awhile. " You ain't on a wager, are you, that you need to ride so fast ?" Mr. Walton checked his horse, and waited till his com- panion came up. " You would n't go ahead of me that way, Tom, if I Lad my own horse. Pa's old nag is slow-footed, anyhow." "Dave," said Tom Walton, abruptly, "did you ever make a fool of yourself?" "Well, I don't reckon I should want to own up if I had," said Dave. " Such a co-founded fool that you could n't help ownin' it ?" said his companion. " Why, Tom, what are you drivin' at ?" said Dave. " Because Jhave, and I should like to find company for my comfort," said the young man. "Well, if Tom Walton, the smartest young man on the prairie, owns to playin' the fool, I don't know who may n't," ^aid Dave. " When did it happen, Tom ?" "Just now, within the last hour, Dave. It's a pretty story to go round the neighborhood, ain't it, that the rich Tom Walton offered himself to Catlett 's hired teacher, and got his walkin'-ticket ?" " Is that so, Tom ?" "Well, I reckon. And what do you s'pose the reason was, Dave ?" " Because she 's a woman, I reckon, and likes to be con- trary ; though how any woman in her senses should make up her rnoath to refuse you, is more than I can see." " I believe it was just because I happen to be the rich Tom Walton, that she did it," said the young man, bit- terly, " No I You don't mean that, Tom ?" " I mean that when I would n't take no for an answer, TOM WALTON PLAYS THE FOOL. 3o7 but must set before her a few of the advantages she would reap by being my wife, she stopped me short enough, by saying that if there was nothing else in the way, she never u$>uld marry a man with my possessions. I vow I know plenty of girls that would have me for that very reason." " What did she mean ?" " Well, I suppose she meant because I owned niggers. I 've known all along she was a bit of an abolitionist, but I did n't think she would have carried it so far. I did ri't ask. I was flinging out of sight of the girl mad enough, when she called me back in her soft way, and when I would n't hear to her, she followed me, and laid her hand on my arm. I could n't have stirred then, any more than if there 'd been a dozen stout men hold of me, instead ot one puny girl." " How you talk, Tom. I did n't think you were so deep in love. Did she make it up with you ?" " Did I make it up with her, you mean ? There 's no being mad with that girl. I could have gone down on my knees to her that minute if it would have done any good. Heigh, ho ! Well, let it pass." " Yes, I don't reckon you need to bother yourself over one girl, when there's twenty to be had for the ask- in'. And Tom, between you and I, I don't believe in marry in' for love, anyhow. It 's a mighty unsubstantial thing to live on. I mean to look out for something more solid." " That 's your view of the matter, is it ?" " Yes sir. I s'pose I 've had my fancies as well as other people, but I've got over 'em all. It 's best to take a common sense view of the matter after all, and I tell you it 's a mighty comfortable thing in the long run to have a snug little something to fail back on. It makes up for any lackings in the bride." 15 338 WESTERN BORDER LIFE. "What a venerable old philosopher." " Well, the fact is, Tom, I 'm lazy. There 's no gettin rid of that. I never did love to work, and if I can find a way of getting shet of it all my life, who's a right to find any fault ?" J ' Nobody, to be sure. If a young girl that I know of, as poor as Job's turkey, and as proud as Lucifer, would look at things that way, the rich Tom Walton need n't have made a fool of himself to-night." CHAPTER XXXV. TROUBLE ON THE CLAIM, " DAVE, my boy, how does that girl Mailh}' come on? 71 " O, well enough, pa. She 's a peeler to work, though it seems as if the devil was in her. She's out, Aunt Ade- line says, about all night, and comes home with her clothes half in rags. But as long as she 's bright and handy day- times, I don't know as we need to fret about her. I reckon it 's all straight." " Keep a fast look out, young 'un. I 've had more to do with niggers than you, and I tell you it won't do to give 'em too free a run. I 've seen that girl myself skulk- in' round after night, and hang me if I like the looks of it. I 'm afraid she 's up to some deviltry." " Well, she or you have stopped the bullets, pa; that 's one good thing. I ain't no coward, but it did make a fel- low feel kinder crawley, to hear a ball whizzin' by every now and then, within an inch of his nose, and not know, for the life of him, where it come from." " Well, well, boy, keep your eye peeled, that 's all I 've got to say, and you '11 scare off the devils after a while." This conversation occurred between father and son, after several weeks of the visit had passed. There seemed to be great quiet just now among the mysterious charac- ters w^ho haunted this region. A bullet had not whizzed by for a fortnight, nor any strange accident happened. The place was really getting quite comfortable and home- 340 WESTERN BORDER- LIFE. like ; Aunt Adeline, indeed, insisted, with her superior knowledge of demonology, that the spirits were round just as ever, only pretending to keep still, so as to come down with a " mighty big crash by-and-by. They 'd cotch it pretty soon, she reckoned, and if old massa knew what was good for himself, he 'd get his traps together and go back to the prairie right off." It was a singular coincidence, which afterwards came to their knowledge, that on these very days old Madam Hes- ter, on the prairie, from her chair in the chimney-corner, muttered dolefully almost all the time, gesticulating with her skinny fingers, so that 'Ria declared she frightened her half to death, particularly when she caught such broken sentences as the following : " They are all murdered ! O trouble and sorrow ! No good ! No good ! Why could n't they be coiuent with what they had ! Always gettin' more ! runs in 4 ,he blood ! O me ! O me !" Aunt Adeline's predictions were in some measure true. The lull preceded a tempest. The plans of the conspira- tors, which had several times been thwarted when upon the verge of execution, neared their completion. With stealthy steps, night after night, Martha had found her way to the lone cabin in the woods, arid held whispered conferences with the widow and her son, upon the safest and most certain way of revenging themselves. At these times, Maitha herself was astonished at the bitterness and deep malignity the little meek-eyed woman manifested, when speaking of her wrongs and their perpetrators. At such times, there was a wild look in her eyes, and her hands trembled with convulsive energy, as she vowed that she would have her revenge. At last, the eventful night arrived. It was well suited to their purpose, as black and starless as they whose deeds TROUBLE ON THE CLAIM. 341 being evil, "love darkness better than light," could desire. It was early when the two commenced their work. Steal- ing to the enclosure where the cattle were kept, they selected Dave's best cows, and drove them to their own home in the woods. Dave afterward remembered that waking from an uneasy slumber, he fancied he heard " old Brindle" low close under his window, and wondered, half dreaming, whether the cattle had broken their enclosure. By the time this was accomplished, and the bars of tho cattle-yard and the stable let down, that the stock and Mr. Catlett's fine horses might escape to the woods, it was long past midnight. Martha, to avoid suspicion, had remained at home, waiting for the signal which was to call her forth to her part of the night's work. It came at length, and stealing forth from her quarters, she joined her companions at a safe distance from the house. "Is all right, Martha?" whispered the widow, eagrrly; "the dogs tied and the light- wood ready ?" " All right, missus, and ebery soul as fast as a log.' r " Come, then, make haste! we 've no time to lose, and the hour for vengeance is come." Hurrying before them with feverish impatience, she led them to a pile of dry under-brush, which Martha had carefully collected, and all three loading themselves with the inflammable material, carried it to the cabins, against which they carefully piled it. Again and again they re- turned with fresh loads, obeying the woman's directions to make sure work of it. " Mother," said Zi, stopping short when he had collected his last bundle, " it goes against me to burn up the old place, which father and I worked on so long. Can't we burn t'other one, where the women sleep, and leave this." " No, boy, no, we '11 burn 'em both to the ground ! Spare neither root nor branch, man nor woman, mastei 342 WESTERN BORDER LIFE. nor sla\e. Do you suppose I could live under the roof, that has harbored the murderer of my husband ? No, no, Zi, let 'em all perish together !" " O, lors, missus, you don't mean to burn up de folks, too," said Martha, opening her great eyes in horror, " You did n't say clat afore. I can't do no such thing. 'Pears as if I could n't, nohow. Missus, de debble's got you to think of doin' dat ar." " No, no, you goose," said Zi. " We don't mean to hurt a hair of their heads. Only to drive 'em off the place and spoil all their goods. Mother don't know what she says. She 's wild to-night. You need n't look so at me, girl, 1 give you my word, we '11 give 'em time to escape. But, hark you ! if you betray us, you are a" dead nigger in the twinkling of an eye! Do you understand ?" "I ain't goin' to tell, rnassa. I wants to see Misa Car'line turned out of house and home dis cold night. She dat let Tilla shiver many a time with de cold. I does so ! but O, lors, I is sorry for de teacher. I hopes dar won't no harm come to her." " Stop fooling there, Zi. Hush all of you, what 's that ?" "It's that pesky dog, mother; I was feared he'd make us trouble. Crouch down here in the bushes awhile till he gets quiet." " O ! to be disappointed after all, when so near my re- venge," muttered the woman. " 'T ain't nothin', missus," said Martha ; " hold on a :>it, and. I '11 still de dog. He knows me." She stole from her covert, and returned in a moment to say that all was quiet. " Now, then, waste not a moment. Set fire to the cursed pile, and let me see it burn to the ground. Run, boy ! This is the last bundle. Stay, give me your matches, and I '11 light the pile myself." TBOUBLE ON THE CLAIM. 343 She seized the box, and hastening forward, set the piles in a blaze, her hand trembling, and her heart beating with excitement. "Quite cheerful and warm, this cold night, mother," said the boy, with a chuckle. " Warm to the heart that sees an enemy ruined." " Lors, how it crackles. Now let 's holler, or they '11 all be burnt up," said Martha. " Open your mouth if you dare, you cowardly nigger. Do you think we want it put out with a bucket of water ? The thing must be done sure. Keep still, don't say a word. I '11 give the alarm." Fiercely glared the flame amid the darkness, lighting up the three faces which glowed in fiendish malice at the scene, and dancing, crackling, flashing, as though joining in their glee. Higher and higher it leaped, lapping the sides of the low cabins with its red tongues, now rising, now falling, and now rushing in wild eddies round tho building. Still there was no stir within. " O, lors, massa, I must holler. Dey '11 be burnt up, sure. Why don't dey wake ?" " Come, mother, run now, while I give the alarm. It 'a time, as the girl says." " And why should we wake them ?" said the woman. 44 Has n't the Lord put a deep sleep on them to their de- struction. Go away, boy, go away, I '11 stay and see the end. Martha where has that girl gone ?" Martha had seized the moment, and quick as thought rushed into the cabin where Fanny slept. " Quick, Miss Fanny ! O, quick! De house is on fire ! They sha'n't burn you to death ! Get up ! Get up ! I gay." Roused from a deep slumber, Fanny sprang to her feet. The room was full of smoke, and the floor felt hot beneath 344 WESTERN BORDER LIFE. her, while a bright light filled the building. Before she could speak the girl was in the other cabin giving the alarm. All was terror and confusion. The fire was ad- vancing so rapidly that but little could be done, and the men finding it impossible to save the cabin, soon gave up the attempt. Mrs. Catlett, who had retained barely presence of mind sufficient to hurry on her clothes, ran from one room to the other, wringing her hands in impo- tent distress, while the two black women clung to her skirts, and screamed and howled in' sympathy. Fanny alone seemed capable of taking the lead, and with Nanny's assistance, succeeded in saving the greater part of their clothing, by far the most valuable articles in the house. The furniture and bedding were left to their fate. By this time it was unsafe to remain longer in either cabin, and houseless and forlorn the family stood upon the open prairie, watching the destruction of their late habitation. Mrs. Catlett and Nanny tilled the air with their lament- ations, but the squire and Dave looked on in gloomy silence. " Look yonder, Miss Car'line, dar 's two folks runnin'. Dar, jest by dat clump of trees. See 'em." Dave sent a shot in the direction pointed out, where, by the light of the fire, two figures could be distinctly seen, running as fast as their feet could carry them. The noise of the report was followed by a shrill laugh be- hind, and turning, they perceived, by the gray light of the morning, the figure of a woman, standing with out- stretched arms, half-way up the hill. "There's one of the devils! Shall I shoot, pa?" said Dave. " Yes, do !" said the woman, laughing again, " murder the wife as you murdered her husband ; it would make a nretty end to the night's adventures. Does your mother 1BOOBLE ON THE CLAIM. 345 like her quarters, boy? It's a comfortable night to be turned out of house and home ! Ha ! ha ! ha ! Fire away, boy. I can die in peace with such a pretty sight before ne." " Curse the she devil ! Pa, just say the word." " Put down your gun, boy ! Would you fire on a woman ?" " Ha ! ha ! ha ! Do you remember the widow's curse ? Has your land yielded and your flocks increased ? Have f ou grown fat on the widow's inheritance ? Answer me that, Jack Catlett !" "For heaven's sake, Mr. Catlett, send that horrid wo- man away," said Mrs. Catlett. "He sent her away once with her fatherless children," said the woman, after a pause ; for Mr. Catlett stood in moody silence. " He sent her away once, my dear, but she 's come back to curse him. Let him try it again, if he will. Let him tempt the widow's curse. Ha ! ha !" With her wild laugh ringing in their ears, she disap- peared among the trees. Mr. Catlett drew a long breath, and looked about him. "Well, what 's to be done now," said his wife, in a que- rulous tone ; " are we to stand here shivering all day, with that horrid creature in the woods to fire on us. O dear ! what did we ever come here for ?" " Jerry, bring some of those embers and a little light wood, and we '11 have a fire. Are the horses all lost ?" " Please, massa," said Uncle Tim, coming forward, " I cotched old Poke Neck and one of de farm hosses jest back in de woods. I 's tied 'em yonder to a tree." " Well, hitch 'em to the farm wagon, and put in those trunks and other traps. Do you hear? We must get back to the prairie about the quickest." " I 'm as faint as death for the want of something to eat," murmured Mrs. Catlett. 15* 346 WESTEKN BOEDER LIFE. " Is the smoke-house burnt up, too ?" said her husband, " Jerry, go look in the ashes, and see if you can't find some bacon." The man soon returned, bringing two or three black- ened, half cooked pieces, from which the family break- fasted, after which they huddled into the farm wagon, servants and all, and in doleful plight started for the prairie. u Where alive is that Martha ?" said Mrs. Catlett, sud- denly ; " I have n't seen the girl since the fire." " You are not like to, either," said Dave. " Curse the girl ! I told you no good would come of sending her to me. She was head one in the devil's plot they 've hatched up against us." " Jinny," whispered Adeline, as the two were squatted close together in the back of the wagon, " it 's a mighty bad ting to get turned out ob doors sich a cold night ; but dar's good come out ob it, for it 's brought ole massa to his senses, and we 's goin' back to de prairie. For luy part, T 's glad to say good-by to dis yer place " CHAPTER XXXVI. SIEGE OF LAWRENCE. IT was on the morning of the second of December that Mr. Catlett and his family responded to the writ of eject- ment from the claim served on them by the widow of the murdered man and her son. It was a sad, chilled, irri- tated company, which old "Poke Neck" and his coadjutor drew along toward La Belle Prairie. The day was clear and cold, and the sun shone brightly on the scene. The ride was mostly taken in moody silence, interrupted now and then by the congratulatory chatting of Aunt Adeline, who regarded the whole affair with evident satisfaction. About noon, Dave descried some large body, which kerned to be moving toward them, and called his father's attention to it. Mr. Catlett paid no heed to the boy for a long time; but as it approached nearer and nearer, his face assumed an anxious expression ; and turning to his son he said : 44 Dave, it 's the army for Kanzas. I heard yesterday they were about marching to Lawrence, but I hoped we should get the start of 'em one day at least. What shall we do ? There 's no use trying to get away, for you could n't worry Poke Neck off a walk. Meet 'em we must, for all that I can see." "Well, pa, and what's the harm. We are friends, I e'pose. The ladies can cover up their faces if they don't 848 WESTERN BORDER LIFE. want to see so many men ; and as for you and I, we '11 bear the laugh they raise against us, for being seen in this plight, and get by as quick as we can." " You don't know what you are talking about, boy Don't you know it 's one of the rules of these fellows not to let any body pass? Wife and girls, what do you think of joining an army and besieging Lawrence?" " O ! Mr. Catlett, you are crazy. They would n't think of making us turn about, would they ? Mercy on us, what shall we do ?" The young ladies said nothing, but their faces expressed any thing but pleasure at the idea. " Well, don't borrow trouble," said Mr. Catlett, care- lessly ; " I don't reckon you '11 have to do it. They are all people from about the prairie, and know Jack Catlett well enough to trust him for a safe person. So don't fret. And, Dave, see to the priming of the guns. Some of these fellows may have too much whisky aboard." The army, for such it turned out to be, of two or three hundred, from the region about La Belle Prairie, had now arrived within hailing distance, when up rode the officer in command, with a rusty sword and dilapidated feather, being no less a person than our gallant Colonel Joe Turner, and not a whit better off for the liquor he had drank since morning. Stopping short in mid career, as he caught his neighbor in the farm-wagon, niggers and all, he burst into a loud laugh. "Ha! ha! ha! Catlett, where on airth did you come from in such aristocratic shape ? Got Dave and all his tribe. Well, well, going to leave the claim, and show the white feather to those devils that 's playing antics on the place, hey ?" "Just take your drunken squad along, colonel," said Squire Catlett, and let me pass with my ladies. " When SIEGE OF LAWRENCE 349 you are yourself, sir, I will explain the particulars. So start up Poke Neck, William." " Hold ! neighbor Catlett, not quite so fast, my fine fel- low ! We don't let any body pass, friend or foe, that 's one of our oaths. Besides, we want you and your son in the enterprise. Man of means, you know, squire. Foot the bills ! A pretty story it would be for you to stay at home with your wife and babies, when your countrymen are fighting for their rights. Why, neighbor Catlett, it 'a a glorious work we are engaged in. We are going tc fight to the death, and exterminate every scoundrel from Kanzas, that 's tainted with free-soilism or abolitionism. Is it a time for brave men to hold back ? Come, come, Catlett, face about. We'll give you better mounting, and as for the ladies, there sha'n't a hair of their heads be hurt." " I tell you I sha'n't do it. You know well enough, colonel, there 's no shirk-liver about me. I 'm up to the scratch, and I'll pay my part, and do my part, too, but these ladies must be landed safe first ; I promised 'em, and my name ain't Catlett, if I don't fulfill. I tell you, Dave and I will be with you to-morrow, or next day. Come ! can't you trust an old neighbor ? I 're said once, and I say again, my name ain't Catlett, if I d f >n't see these ladies safe home to-night." " Then it ain't Catlett, for go you ahall," said another voice, and the squire recognized in the person approach- ing, a man great on the borders. " We '11 let not a live soul, friend or foe, man or woman, go by us. That 's a fixed thing with us. Ladies, your servant," he continued, touching his hat to the frightened finales. "You need feel no alarm ; you shall receive the best of treatment, We already have one woman among t> e soldiers, shoulcW. ing her musket like the revolutionary iaite." 850 WESTERN BOEDER LIFE. "Is that Gamby along?" said Catlett. "Hang me! but you don't call her a woman ? At any rate my women ain't of her build. So if you don't want a muss, just let us go on," and the squire began to flush, and bluster, and roll out big oaths, not proper to be uttered in the presence of ladies, or anywhere else. " Let's let him go," said Colonel Turner to the men about 1 dm, who seemed to be chief. " It 's plaguy hard !" " No, no, not by a great sight, I tell you. What a pink-livered chap you are, Joe. Had n't you better make another confession at Mount Zion Church ?" The worthy colonel turned a look of fury on the speaker, and opened his mouth to reply, but changing his mind on the subject, remained silent. " You understand, Mr. Catlett," said the great man of the border, " that this is a principle with us, and not in the least disrespectful to you or your ladies. We have made our plans, and if we give up one point, we may a dozen. We must stick to it to the letter." " That 's it ! I likes that !" said a voice from the rankei, " it 's constitutional." " Let 's give one shot apiece at the unmannerly scamps, and then rush by 'em, pa," said Dave. " O ! for heaven's sake, Mr. Catlett, give up to em," said his wife. u They '11 murder us all if you don't. Dave, put down your gun this minute. Well, if this ain't trouble, I 'd like to know what is." No other course seemed to present itself to Mr. Catlett. for after a moment's hesitation, he took his wife's advice, and expressed his willingness to turn about. "Now you talk like a sensible fellow," said Colonel Joe. "Bring those horses up from the rear, some of you, and we'll mount the squire and his son in good shape. And look here, neighbor, put your niggewj back SIEGE OP LAWRENCE. 351 in one of the baggage-wagons, and let the ladies have more room." The arrangements were soon made ; the farm-wagon con- taining the ladies, placed in rear of the main body, while Mr. Catlett and his son, well mounted, kept close at its Bide, and after an hour's delay, the army thus reinforced, moved on. As they passed the claim, the ruins still smoking, were visible, but Catlett turned away his head, and as the cabins stood a little under the swell of the hill, no one else noticed their destruction, unless it might have been Colonel Joe Turner, who also had his reasons for avoiding the topic. Martha, from one of her skulking-places, observed the cavalcade, and soon discovering that her master and mis- tress with the young ladies, were of the number, she hovered about at a safe distance, liko an evil angel, ready for mischief. So the army moved on toward Lawrence. CHAPTER XXXVII. THE ST. LOUIS PRISONERS. BEFORE the army entered Kanzas, tvro of our dramatis personce were traversing the Territory from a contrary direction. They were now approaching the road to Law- rence, along which these valiant soldiers will, almost at the same time, pass. They are engaged in earnest con- versation. One is an old gentleman of fine open counte- nance, the other by far his junior, but resembling him in his genial nature. Let us draw near and listen to them. " Harry Chester," said the elder of the two, suddenly checking his horse, and turning full upon his companion, " you are a fool." The young man received this flattering announcement with a smile. " Yes, sir," said the old gentleman, " I 'm out of all patience with you. A young man that 's got the start in life that you have, to throw up his profession for a foolish whim. I tell you it 's downright folly." " I think not, sir," said Harry Chester, respectfully ; " I see it very clearly to be my duty." "Fiddlestick's ends! What do you call duty? To give up a profession in which you are bound to rise, and that yields you now a couple of thousand a year, lose a year or two in getting a smattering of Greek and Hebrew, and for what ? Why, to wear a long face and a black coat, and dwindle down into a country parson." 1HE ST. LOUIS PRISONERS. 353 "And to accomplish more goo}, perhaps, in ten years as a minister of the Gospel, than I should in a whole life- time settling quibbles of law. No. no! judge, this is not a hasty resolution that I have taken up. Two years ago, when I first became a Christian, it was my earnest desire to study for the ministry ; but circumstances then seemed so peremptorily to forbid it, that I tried to give up the idea. Since then it has impressed itself more and more strongly upon my mind ; and now that my aunt's death has opened the way by providing me the means, I dare not refuse to take up the work. My heart is in it too, and I know of no profession half as dignified and noble as that of a faith- ful minister of Jesus Christ." " And I know of no common field laborer that works harder, or is half so much the public drudge. Our minis- ters, novv-a-days, are over-worked and under-paid. I can see it all. You will be a worn-out, broken-down man before you are forty years old. Come ! come ! Harry, take an old man's advice. I have n't been a bad friend to you." " You have been a father to me," said Harry Chester, warmly, "and I respect your opinions more than those of any other man living. It is only the strongest sense of duty that leads me to act contrary to your advice. I wish you could look at this matter as I see it. The wealth or the reputation that I might gain in rny profession, seem of little weight compared with the happiness of spending a life in my Master's vineyard, in leading souls to Christ, if I may indeed be so blessed, and of meeting them at the last day as crowns of rejoicing. Who would exchange the bliss of that moment for all the wealth and honors that this world can bestow." " Come ! come !" said the judge, impatiently, " don't preach your first sermon before you are licensed. It is 354 WESTERN BOEDER LIFE. of no use talking with you. I see you are quite as head- strong as I thought ^ou. For my part, I don't put the good things of this life so low in the scale. I think a com- fortable support against one's old age, is a grand good thing. But, there ! we won't quarrel about it. If you will be blind to your own interests, I can't help it, that 's all." " And you will not entirely cast me off?" said Harry Chester, "even if you do think -me a poor, blind, deluded fellow. I should, indeed, be making a sacrifice if I Tost you for my friend." " No, no, Harry," said the old gentleman. " No, no, there 's a warm corner for you in my heart yet ; and if you can bear with the old man's scoldings, he can bear with the young man's folly. And now, the next thing will be to talk it over with that little girl 4 up the country, 7 I suppose. She 's quite romantic enough to start off with you on a mission, or enter into any other project for the evangelization of the world. She knows all about it, per- haps already hey ?" " She knows nothing, sir," said Harry Chester. H.V had suddenly grown very sober. " It 's time she did, then," said the judge. " Why, man do you think she will give you your walking-ticket, that you are afraid to tell her. She 's got too little worldly wisdom for that. You '11 be mated exactly, and starve together in perfect content, I doubt not." " We shall never have the opportunity, judge." "And why not ? What makes you look so sober about it ? has she said no, or have you changed your mind about her ? I'm sure you told me once that you meant to win her if you could." "I did," said the young man, with evident agitation. "She is everything that is good and lovely. She was THE ST. LOUIS PRISONERS. 355 dearer to me than all the world beside ; but that is passed, and it has been my constant effort for weeks to forget her." " And why ?" ' Because I have learned from a reliable source that she is engaged to another. O, it was a cruel blow," said the young man. " It is not true, Harry. I know perfectly well to the contrary. Somebody has been deceiving you. Did it come from Fanny herself? Unless it did, don't you be- lieve a word of it!" " It did not come from her," said Harry Chester, " but from one who had every means of knowing." " Nevertheless it is a mistake," said the Judge. " I know it to be so, from the girl herself; for once when I was joking with her, I forced her to confess that she w r as heart-free. Now, is she one to deceive me, even in jest ? No, Harry, depend upon it, she is yours for the asking and perhaps this very day is pining over your coldness and indifference." " Your confidence gives me a faint ray of hope," said his companion. " There may be a mistake ; I have de- spaired too soon, and I will know the truth from her own lips,, at any rate; but look, Judge, just below the fork in the road, isn't that a body of men I see yonder?" " It certainly looks very much like it," said the Judge. " I did n't know there were so many men in Kanzas. Harry, see to your pistols ! I don't like their appearance." Just as they were turning into the main road, they en- countered a small party of a dozen or so from the army> who had advanced to arrest them. "Stand! You are our prisoners!" said Colonel Joe Turner, " By what right or authority ? Sb ow us your precept.'* 356 WESTERN BOEDER LIFE. " By right of might. Do you want to dispute that ?" " But we are free citizens, traveling on business, which can not be delayed, and we warn you not to impede us.*' " Nevertheless we despise your warning, and will force you to wait oui' leisure." " But what does this mean ? Who are you, that take upon yourselves to stop peaceable travelers, and compel them to obey ? What is all this army gathered for, and where are you going ?" 44 To secure the rights of the South, and the triumph of slavery. Hey ! young man, what means that curl of the lip ? Are you an abolitionist?" 44 No matter what I am," said Harry Chester, 4C I claim the protection of the law and my country." Seeing resistance impossible, and relying upon their own uprightness, they yielded to their captors, and were im- mediately placed under guard. In a few hours the army had joined the forces at Law reiice. The next day Tom Walton rode up on his prano in ft gray. CHAPTER XXXVIII. THE FLIGHT TO THE FKEE-SOILEES; THE weather was extremely unpropitious. The rain full in torrents, and almost deluged the camp. A deserted house on the outskirts of Lawrence had been appro- priated to the ladies, and every attention which was practi- cable was paid to them. Indeed, compared with those about them, their quarters were quite comfortable. Dave and Catlett chose to take soldiers' fare, camping out, near by the building. It was an hour or so past mid-day when they arrived. A court-martial was immediately held, and both the prisoners were condemned to be hung on the morrow. The young man, in the excitement of the moment, when allowed to speak in his defense, had most unguardedly given free utterance to his sentiments, believing himself in a free country, and had even denounced slavery, and its extension into this new region, with great eloquence and power. The whisky-drinking court, which sat in judgment, were excessively enraged at his abolition opinions, and at once passed sentence of death upon him. They deliberated longer over the judge, whose judicious reserve, and digni- fied bearing, seemed to put the cowardly ruffians in fear. At length they mustered courage to decree his execution also. So they were both remanded to their quarters, to be carefully guarded till the next day. The place of their 358 WESTERN BORDER LIFE. confinement was to be the opposite room from that occu- pied by the ladies, in the same deserted house. Fanny was looking out upon the drizzly day in a de- sponding mood, when the crowd ushered the prisoners along to their quarters. As they passed the window where she stood, the younger suddenly looked up, turn- ing full upon her, a face, which though paler and sterner than she had ever seen it, she could by no possibility mistake. It was but for an instant, the crowd closed about him, and he was gone, yet in that instant the agony she experienced, as the whole extent of his dan- ger flashed through her mind, convinced her how large a place he occupied in her heart. With a faint expression of surprise, she started back from the window, and Nanny, who, in the further part of the room, was making her toilet to receive her beau, young Turner, asked, in amazement, " What was the matter ?" " O, Nanny, I have seen one of the prisoners." " Well, what of it ? You look more as though you had seen a ghost. Why, Miss Fanny, what ails you ? How you tremble." " Nanny, it is Harry Chester, of St. Louis," gasped Fanny. " Harry Chester ! O, Fanny, it can't be. Are you sure ?" " I saw him this moment pass the window ; and, Nanny, he is locked up in this very house with us, and to-rnorrow morning he will be led out to die. I heard them say so. O, what shall we do ? " And the other ? who can the other be ? If pa and Dave were only here." ** Where are they ? Can't we find them ? Something must be done without loss of time." FLIGHT TO THE FREE- BOILERS. 3f>9 11 i have n't the least idea. Miss Fanny. I have n't seen t* *m since noon, and it is n't safe to trust ourselves out of doors." "Nevertheless, Nanny, we must help these men to escape you and I." " But how ? They have put a guard of half a dozen men at least in the passage, and locked them in tight be- sides. We can't do the first thing." " We can and we must. ! is there no one to help us ? " Bob will be here directly, Miss Fanny. He will do what he can ; but, lors, we can't save them, I know." " So he will, but O, Nanny ! there 's no time to lose. ' To-morrow at dawn,' said that cruel man ; ' to-morrow at dawn, you rebels, you die. So say your prayers faithfully, the young one is parson enough, and prepare for death.' " " O, it 's dreadful, Miss Fanny ; such a pretty young man, too ; but what can we do ?" Fanny was examining the walls. " Nanny," she said, "is the opposite room just like this?" " Exactly, for I peeped in this morning. You see there 's only these two rooms in the house, with that great wide passage between, and the loft overhead, and the guard are in the passage, and there's no possibility of getting to them to help them." " Except from the outside, Nanny. And see, how this mud between the cracks in the logs crumbles away al- most at a touch. Nanny, I have it ! We must get them a saw, and let them cut their way through the logs. That will do. O, I do believe we can save them." " But what will they do after they get out ? The camp are all about us. They would be seen the very first thing. Then where can we get the saw, or get it to them ? and do you reckon they would n't make some noise in sawing 360 \\ E S T E R N 1) O Jl D E li LIFE. their way through these great thick logs? O, Fanny, I will help you all I can, but it does seem as if you was wild." " No, no, Nanny, I never felt calmer or more self-pos- sessed in my life. Uncle Tim has a hand saw in the farm- wagon ; I saw it this morning. After night we will steal out and get it to them through the cracks. Bob Turner must ha\e some horses ready at a safe distance, and be on hand outside, to lead them out of the camp. Do you not see ? and God will help us, and I feel that we shall suc- ceed. And Nanny," she continued, glancing at the chair where Mrs. Catlett, worn cut with fatigue and anxiety, had fallen fast asleep, " we will not vex your mother Miteh this, if we can help it. Get veady as fast as you can to see Bob, while I look for Uncle Tim." That worthy fellow was not far off, and when Fanny opened the window and beckoned him to approach, her summons was obeyed with the greatest alacrity. " Well, now, what does Miss Fanny want ob a saw, any- how?" he said in reply to her whispered request. "If dar's any little job she want done in dat line, Uncle Tim's de feller, anyhow." " No, Tim, it is nothing that you can do. No matter what I want of it. You must keep perfectly still, and say not a word to any one. Hide it under your jacket or stay bring it in with an armful of light wood. Can you ? If you bring it to me safely, it will be a great favor that I shall never forget as long as I live. Can I trust you, Tim ?" "To de ends ob de airth, Miss Fanny." At this moment, Bob Turner, spruced up a little for 'his visit to his lady love, entered the house. " O ho !" he said, as he walked into the passage where the guard were stationed ; " you 've got those abolition devils in charge, have vou, against to-morrow ?" FLIGHT TO THE F K E E-S O I L E R 8 . 361 " Yes, hang it, if it ain't tough, too, after the march we 've had to-day, to watch all night. Hovvsomever, they won't trouble any body a great while. They 've got to swing to-morrow, sure. I say Bob, can't you get the la- dies to hand over a little whisky. It 's plaguy dry work." " Bring your own whisky, blast it," returned Bob. " How do you reckon the ladies have got any ?" With trembling eagerness Nanny unbarred the door of their room, and let in the young man, who was quickly informed who one of the prisoners was, and the part he was expected to take in their deliverance. Bob Turner shook his head gravely at Fanny's plan, bringing up objection after objection, all of which she foresaw and answered. Still he hesitated. " O, for the sake of humanity, of justice, you will do this !" said Fanny, with clasped hands. " For my sake," whispered Nanny. The young man looked from one to the other of the pleading faces raised to his, and could resist no longer. " It's as much as my neck is worth to do the thing," he said at last ; " but, hang it, you are so set on it, I '11 try." " Heaven bless you !" said Fanny, fervently ; while Nanny manifested her gratitude in a way that pleased him much better, for she threw her arms about his neck, and kissed him heartily on the spot. Then in a whispered conversation they arranged all the particulars of their plan, Bob Turner expressing it as his opinion that the first and most important step to be taken, was to provide plenty of whisky for the guard, and in this manner put them off their guard as soon as possible. Ha was dispatched upon this errand, and by the time he re- turned night had fallen upon the camp. Meanwhile Nanny had persuaded her mother to retire to rest, and had the satisfaction of seeing that lady snugly 16 302 WESTERN BORDER LIFE. ensconced in the little nook, partitioned by an old blanket from the main room, where a couple of rude couches had been spread upon the floor for their accommodation. " Now, then," said Bob, " while I go and hunt up a couple of fast horses, you, girls, had better set yonder chaps at work. They '11 have as much as they '11 want to do, to work their way out before midnight, and if those fellows in the passage hear Uncle Tim's saw going, it 's all up with 'em, that 's all I 've got to say." Stealing out at the back door, Bob started on his peril- ous expedition, and the young ladies, after wrapping themselves in their cloaks, Fanny hiding the saw be" neath hers, silently followed him. The lights of the camp were shining dimly through the rain and mist, and as they crept softly along under the eaves of the house, they could hear the voices of men in boisterous merriment, in a tent close by. " Keep close to me, Nanny. Poor girl, don't tremble so ! We have nothing to fear," whispered Fanny. " See, this must be the place." With a sharp stick she had brought, she worked away the mud plastering between the logs, making an opening through which she could easily thrust two or three fingers. " They are here, Nanny. I see them," she said softly, rising from the stooping posture she had assumed, " Harry Chester and Judge Stanton." The prisoners were conversing together in a low tone, and as Fanny paused a moment before addressing them, she caught a sentence or two of what they were saying. " Will they dare to do it ? Is there no chance of uscape?" " I am afraid not, Harry. They dare to do any thing, a gang of drunken ruffians are certainly not to be trusted." "Oh! but to die in this way! To have my days cut FLIGHT TO THE F 14 E E-S O I L E R S . 363 Miort by this drunken crew ! How can I bear it ? And to think that by my imprudence and hot-headedness, I have shortened your days, too. God forgive me, I cau not feel resigned !" " Courage, Harry ! Our trust must be in God." " Judge Stanton ! Harry Chester !" " Hark ! Judge. Did n't some one call our names ?" " I heard nothing, Harry. It must have been your imagination." " Perhaps. My fancy plays me strange tricks to-day. Were it not for the utter absurdity of the thing, I could swear that not two hours ago I saw at one of the windows of this very house, the face of a young girl whom I shall never see again, unless, indeed, we meet in heaven." " Harry ! Harry Chester !" " Who speaks ?" said the young man, turning eagerly in the direction from whence the sound came. " A friend ! One who will help you to escape ! Come closer. This way, both of you. Can you hear what I say ?" u Perfectly," said the young man. A thrill shot through his frame, and he felt sure that he had heard that very voice before from a little fairy perched up on an old bridge long ago. " Am I dreaming, or is it Fanny Hunter's voice that I hear ?" " Hush \ speak lower! Your enemies are all about us. I am her? Nanny Catlett and I don't ask how. I have no time t 3 tell you. Be content to know that we are here to save you ! Can you trust us ?" "With my whole heart." "Listen, then. With this saw which I have brought you, and your pocket-knives, you must work your way \hrough the logs. There will be horses waiting for you outside the camp, and young Turner will bo here at mid night to guide you to the place." 364 WESTERN BORDER LIFE. "You are a dear, brave girl, Fanny!" said the Judge, " but I am afraid you are periling yourself for nothing. Do you know there is but a thin partition between us and our guard, and that even now we can hear the?*' voices in drunken dispute. We thank you, Fanny, with our whole hearts, but the thing is impossible !" " No ! no !" the sweot voice trembled with earnestness, " it is not impossible ! there are great risks, but I feel that they will be overcome. The men are very drunk, and they will be still more so by midnight. It is your only chance. Be prudent, and strong, and God will take care of the rest. O ! promise me that you will make the at- tempt." " She is heaven's own messenger, Judge. How can you hesitate a moment ?" "Come away! come away!" whispered Nanny. U I hoar voices close by." " I must go. Will you make the attempt, or be led out to a shameful death to-morrow ?" " O, come ! Miss Fanny, we shall be discovered." " Go, go !" said the Judge. " God helping us we will make the attempt." Returning in safety to their room, the girls spent the remaining hours to midnight in watching with the most intense anxiety the progress of their plot. For a time they heard nothing but the patter of the rain against the windows, and the voices of the revelers in the passage ; and rejoiced together as their drunken mirth grew more and more boisterous. At length Fanny's quick ear caught another noise, and, drawing her companion's attention to it, they listened with pale faces and shortened breaths to the distant, muffled sound of a saw. " O, if they should hear it," said Nanny. " Can't we run round and tell them to be more quiet ?" FLIGHT TO THE FREE S OILERS. 365 " No, Nanny, depend upon it they will work as cau- tiously as they can. We have done our best ; now let us trust them in God's hands." The noise of the men was just now very loud, and they seemed to be in some dispute over the game of cards they were playing ; but above it all, those long regular strokes continued; Fanny closed her eyes, and Nanny knew by the motion of her lips that she was in prayer. Slowly dragged the hours away, and with trembling voices the girls whispered each other, that every moment now, and every stroke of the saw, was bringing the prisoners nearer to liberty. Once, indeed, they thought that all was lost ; for suddenly one of the men exclaimed with an oath, that he heard the sound of joiners' tools somewhere in the house. Hang him ! but he 'd know what it meant. " Blast you, Tim Jenkins, go on with your play," said another voice, " you are always fancying something. It 's only one of your plaguy tricks to throw up the game, when you are likely to lose your money." " I don't hear any thing," said another voice. " Those poor devils in there have n't opened their heads for the last hour. Let 's take a look in and see what they are up to." " No, no, Dick, let 'em alone. They are safe enough. Come, take another swig, and go on with your game." The sound to which Tim Jenkins alluded, had ceased the moment he commenced speaking, and was not heard again for some moments ; but it did recommence at last, and though at times it seemed to the half distracted girls that it must be heard, so loud and distinct was it to their overstrained ears, no further notice was taken by the rev- elers, and near midnight it ceased entirely. Bob was behind the time, and the poor watchers had every opportunity to indulge in doleful anticipations of 366 WESTERN BORDER LIFE. evil, before he made his appearance. But come he did at last ; and stopping at the door to whisper the ladies that all was right, and the horses a quarter of a mile distant, waiting for them, he hastened to the prisoners. They heard nothing more, but when suspense becoming intoler- able, they ventured out again to the place where Fanny had held her whispered conference with the prisoners, all was dark and still, and they thrust their arms into the space between the logs by which the captives had made their escape. Wearied with watching, Nanny sought her bed, and Fanny was pacing the room back and forth in her anxiety, when a ponderous knock was heard at the door. Antici- pating some evil, though she knew not why, with trem- bling hands she undid the fastenings, and in stalked Madam Gamby. "Ah, here you are, you pale-faced abolition teacher! Where 's the prisoners ? There 's a hole sawed through their room, and they are gone. And the saw 's marked Catlett. Do you know any thing about it, hey ? Now if you don't catch it here, I *m mistaken. You can't cheat me. I 've seen you with that abolition rascal on the prai- rie before now. Why did n't you run off with him ? You need n't try to look so innocent. You know you helped 'em off, and you '11 be hung in their stead, too. I 've com- plained of you to the governor, and they '11 be here directly to arrest you." " O, Madam Gamby ! Would you have seen those in- nocent men murdered. Can a woman be so cruel ?" " Cruel ! you fool, do you suppose such rascals were made to live? I'll show you what I'm made of. Ah, here they come ! I told you they 'd be after you." There was a shuffling of feet and a sound of angry voices outside the door. FLIGHT TO THE F R E E-S O I L E R S. 36T " O, Madam Gamby, save me ! save me !" cried Fanny. * Will you give me up to these ruffians ?" " Yes, I will. There 's nothing too bad for you, you " Fanny stopped to hear nc more. Almost deprived of her senses by the woman's threats, and frantic at the thought of falling into the hands of a set of drunken ruf- fians, she sprang past her persecutor like a frightened fawn, and the next moment was rushing through the dark- ness and the storm. On, on, she knew not whither. Past the glimmering . camp -lights that seemed to glare at her with angry eyes, through mist and blinding rain, over thorns and briars, on, still on. The rain beat down upon her uncovered head, but she knew it not. The thorns and briars cruelly wounded her slender feet, but she felt no pain. A hun- dred voices seemed calling her to stop, a hundred feet hurrying in pursuit; and, with frantic haste, unheeding darkness, wind and rain, the poor fugitive fled on. On and still on, till the glimmering camp-lights were but a speck in the distance, and she felt that she was alone in the solitude of the night. Then faint and exhausted, she pressed her hands to her poor fluttering heart, and sank upon the damp ground. She thought that her hour had come, and that alone and friendless she must perish hen* in the wilderness. Raising herself upon her knees, she prayed with clasped hands that God would take care of her, and of those whom she had tried to succor, and then kneeling upon the plains of Kanzas, she entreated the God of freedom to save that noble Territory from the tyranny of these minions of slavery. At length her voice faltered and ceased, a deadly faintness came over her, and she fell exhausted upon the damp earth, while the rain beat dowo upon her defenseless form. CHAPTER XXXIX. TROUBLE IN THE CAMP. GREAT was the confusion and excitement in and about the house, when Catlett and Dave returned the next morning from their night-drinking and gaming in. the camp. They had heard of the flight of the prisoners, and were as eager as any for their recapture, for the alarm had been given, and scouting parties sent out in every direc- tion. Only by displaying the greatest presence of mind, had Bob Turner been able to escape capture with his charge, by several of these gangs. Once he with his party were entirely entrapped, and obtained release by his declaring that they were on the same business with themselves Knowing Bob's voice, and supposing it all correct in the darkness, the party rode off in an opposite direction. Bob took his prisoners, as he had promised, safe to the sentinels on guard about Lawrence, who admitted them, after suitable inquiry, within their ward. Immediately he wheeled about and returned without suspicion into the camp, making his appearance at the house about the same time with Dave and Catlett. Great was his indignation, when with them he learned how Fanny, the friend and confidant of his betrothed, being frightened by Garnby, had darted out into the darkness, and no trace of her could be found. As for Mr. Catlett, fire and fury pre- vailed in his words, when he heard these things, and Dave TROUBLE IN 1HE CAMP. 369 swore .he would find Fanny if he went to the ends of the earth. Tom Walton, too, came in, with a pale, anxious face, and his collar quite awry; a sure sign that boraething had occurred to discompose him. But Tim's distress \ras the most affecting to behold. The poor fellow seemed to consider himself somehow to blame in the catastrophe, in that he had provided Fanny with the instrument by which the prisoners obtained their escape. " Lors ! Miss Car'- line, if I had n't a gin her dat ar saw, she would n't a let de men out, and den dat ar Gamby woman would n't a come cussin' and swarin', to scare poor Miss Fanny out ob her seven senses. O lors! what did I do it for, any- how ?" Tim blubbered about it all day, and Jinny and Adeline went round with their aprons to their eyes. Upon Madam Gamby 's head, Mr. Catlett heaped bush- els of wrath. If she was n't a woman he 'd shoot her, sure, and if she would come to the wars, why should her being a woman defend her in such iniquity ? Bob Turner was loud in his denunciations, but as yet. kept his own secret. Things were at this pass, when a gang of rowdies, with Gamby at their head, came to arrest Fanny, supposing her long ago returned from her flight. With oaths, and curses, they declared that she should be hung in place of the prisoners she had helped to escape. This was a little too much. No words can depict Jack Catlett's rage at this insult to his house. He raved with absolute madness, and swore if the lot did n't leave, he 'd shoot 'em like dogs. "So you uphold the gal in her treason ana treachery to the camp ?" said Madam Gamby, with a sneer. " Look out, neighbor Catlett, or you'll get to be a suspicious character yourself." " I uphold the girl ! Of course I do. They should 16* 870 WESTERN BOEDER LIFE. have shot me down before I would have seen two as true and noble-hearted men as ever lived, led to the gallows. I say she was a brave girl, with double the courage of some that talk big, and try to wear the breeches. 1 honor her for what she did." The men, when they understood that they were sent out to arrest a young lady, who had been taken under their guard, vowed that they had been cheated by the rascally Gamby, and that they would have nothing to do with it. One of them said he knew the lady, and she was good and kind, and would have taught his child if she could, and he pitied her, driven out by that she-devil into the dark and cold, and hang him if he would n't be one to search for her, and bring her home dead or alive. It was Tim Jenkins, the drummer. Gamby, left alone, blustered as loudly as any, and declared that it was the planters who introduced abolition gals on their places, who caused all the trouble. Finally she deemed it best to retreat before the squire's gun. A search was immediately instituted for the lost girl. No sooner was all known, than hundreds volunteered to look for her in all directions. It was suggested in the camp that they 'd better hang Gamby in place of the escaped prisoners, and to insure good luck in their search, it being suggested that she was a kind of Jonah, anyhow ; to which some one replied that the whale that swallowed her, would have the worst of it decidedly. Mrs. Catlett and Nanny remained with the servants in great anxiety at home. One by one the parties returned from their fruitless search, with no news of the fugitive. One party alone who had ventured very near to Lawrence, brought with them a little torn gaiter, all drenched with rain and mud, which one of the men had found near the road-side, and which Nanny declared, with a flood of tears, TROUBLE IN THE CAMP. 371 to be one that Fanny had worn the day previous. It was reported that she was murdered, or had perished some- where in the wild, or had lost her way, and was still wan- dering further and further into the wilderness. Catlett and Dave with a few determined spirits spent the whole day in scouring the country in all directions. At last, with great gloom, they concluded her forever 1 >st, and returned down-hearted to the camp. In the mean time the negotiations which begun between the leaders, almost on the arrival of the besiegers, were nearing their completion. They had been talked of in the camp, and discussed over whisky bottles and g&aiing- tables. But as all this has nothing to do with our laatory, we entirely pass it by. Suffice it to say that on the morn- ing of the twelfth of December, Governor Shannon dis- banded the troops, and they began to move away in strag- gling bands from the city. Catlett and his family went into Lawrence to tarry awhile in the hope that something might be heard from the lost Fanny. There was a possi- bility even that she might have strayed into the city. At all events every thing which could be done, should be done. The chivalric honor of a native Virginian, was aroused in Mr. Catlett's breast, and he resolved to spare neither time nor expense in the search. Determined as he felt, however, to leave no stone unturned, that iright give any clew to the fugitive's whereabouts, he soon came across a helper, more earnest than himself. A Imost the first persons he met in Lawrence, were his cousin, Judge Stanton, and Harry Chester, to whom he related the sad intelligence, before even congratulating them upon their own escape. Could it be possible that she was in Lawrence? They had seen nothing of her m ice their flight. The judge was loud in his exclamations of alarm and 372 WESTERN BORDER LIFE. distress, and though the young man said less, he devoted his whole time to prosecuting the search, and mentally determined that he would never relinquish it, till she was found. " We will advertise, and search the city thoroughly," he said. " If money would be of any use, it is at your disposal," gaid Tom Walton. " Every thing must be done to rescue so dear a girl, if she be yet alive !" said the judge. " I have mighty little hope that she is," said Mr Cat- lett, with a sigh. CHAPTER XI. OLD AND NEW FRIENDS. OUR story returns to Fanny, whom we left alone on the plains of Kanzas. Exhausted by fatigue, and the violence of the storm, faint and despairing, she sank upon the earth. But deliverance, even in her seemingly hopeless situation, was nigh. A quick step approached, a kind hand touched her, and a voice with which we are not un- familiar, spoke to her. " Miss Fanny ! Miss Fanny ! is dis you, sure enough ?" There was no reply. " O, lors ! she 's dead I does believe ! Poor lamb ! What 's sent her out in de cold and wet, dis yer night ? Miss Fanny ! I say ! Lors, it 's her, though, sure. Don't I know dat voice dat spoke so kind to Tilla. De Lord has sent me here just in time to hear her a pray in' all alone in de dark night ; and I '11 save her, too. Miss Fanny, can't you put your arms round my neck, and let me toat you a bit. I 'm feared she 's past spealdn'. Well, I '11 take her to dem dat will put life inter her if any body can." Martha, for it was her, who returning from Lawrence to the camp, had thus been guided by Providence to the place where Fanny lay, raised the unconscious girl in her strong arms, and bore her safe to the city. There friendly hands were soon around her, and a motherly voice breathed words of love^ and pity in her ears. 374 WESTERN BOEDER LIFE. It was long ere she opened her eyes or gave signs of re- turning life, and when at last she did so, reason had fled ; and she only uttered incoherent expressions of alarm and distress, begging those about her " to save her ! to let her go, or the prisoners would be murdered !" Her expo- sure had thrown her into a dangerous illness, and her new friends nursed her with the tenderest care, while Martha hovered about her, and with clumsy eagerness, as- sisted all that she was able. The family, into \vhose bosom she was thus taken, was from, old Connecticut, and being strongly anti-slavery in their feelings, had removed to Kanzas to do their part to- ward building up a free State. They had found Martha somewhere in the streets of Lawrence, and pitying her forlorn condition, had taken her under their protection, and were just now planning her escape to Canada. To them, of course, the girl at once bore the friendless Fanny, nor could she have chosen a better place. From Martha's story of her being a teacher from Connecticut, and named Fanny Hunter, the "glide wife" at once conjectured that she might be the daughter of the late Pastor of N , and this thought redoubled their diligence. A week passed before her fever abated, nor was her strange discovery by the road-side at all explained, except by the wandering sentences she uttered in her delirium. Meanwhile the camp had broken up, and Martha had lost all trace of Mr. Catlett and his family. They, however, as we have already seen, with Judge Stanton and Harry Chaster, were in Lawrence, and immediately upon the dis- persion of the army, commenced their search for the lost girl. This, in a small place like Lawrence, coula not of course continue long, without leading to her discovery, but it was ordered that Fanny should not be restored to her friends in any such common-place way. OLD AHD NEW FRIENDS. 37 About dusk, the very day they commenced their efforts, Martha ventured out, and was strolling through one of the most unfrequented parts of the city, when in turning a corner, she came plump upon no less a personage than Harry Chester. " Good lors ! it 's Mass' Harry !" she exclaimed, in a tone of joyful surprise. The young man looked at her a moment, forlorn and ragged as she was, without recognizing her. " Don't you know me, Mass' Henry ? I 's Marthy ! Mass' Catlett's Marthy ! You ain't agoin' to give me up to him, I know; but if you does, I must speak to you for de sake of de dear missus, dat 's sick and all alone here ! ! Mass' Harry ! you used to know her on de prairie, and like her, too, I reckon ; dar 's a chance now to be a friend to her. Dar is so." " Who is it, Martha ? Speak quick, girl ! Who do you mean ?" " Lors, Massa Harry, who should it be but Miss Fanny ! I 'm thinkin' you don't reckon on her as much as you did, or you would n't forget her name so quick." " Forget her ! Where is she ? Can you show me the way ? Is she well ? Forget her, indeed !" " Dar now, you begins to talk. Yes, yes. I '11 take yer to her, and mighty glad she '11 be to see you, I reckon. She dat 's been callin' for yer when she was ravm' 'stracted." " Calling for me f O, Martha, has she been so ill ?" The pleasure he felt at the first announcement, was al- most counterbalanced by his pain at the last. " Well, I reckon you'd think so, Mass' Harry. O lors, to think what would hab happened if I had n't -found her dat ar night, wid de rain beatin' on to her poor head Here 'tis, Mass Harry. Dis yer's de place. Now you 376 WESTERN BORDER LIFE. jest stand here a crack, while I go tell Miss Fanny who 'a come." Fanny was sitting bolstered up in her arm-chair. Her face was paler than when we saw her last, and the little hand that supported her head was very thin and white. She raised her eyes, which were bent in anxious thought upon the fire, when Martha entered, and inquired where she had been. Martha had grown wonderfully prudent since her attendance upon the invalid, and determined to be cautious and not break the good news too sudden like. She gave some trivial answer, and was thinking how to commence, when the door opened, and a tall figure stood in the entrance. Martha had just time to cry, " O, Mass' Harry, Mass' Harry ! go back ! you spile it all," when Fanny sprang from her seat with a faint scream, and the next instant the young man was at her side. " Fanny ! Fanny ! have I found you at last ?" What reply Fanny made is not known. Indeed, Martha declared that of the whole of the long conversation that en- sued, she " could n't hear de fust word." Harry Chester did the most of the talking, and at the conclusion of one of his long harangues, he seized the little thin hand, and dared notwithstanding the direful consequences that once before followed this presumptuous act -to press it to his lips. This time it was not withdrawn perhaps Fanny, is her present feebleness, lacked strength to do it. and when she raised her eyes to his face, those eyes th* on that other occasion flashed upon him with angry pride, they were suffused with tears. " Mass Harry tire Miss Fanny all out," Martha said at last, approaching, and Fanny herself bade him leave her, yet followed him with her eyes to the door, and when he returned again and again, to say a parting woru, OLD AND NEW FKIKNDS. 377 somehow did not grow angry at his repeated disobedi- ence. The young man did not sleep that night, until he had informed all her friends that the lost girl was found, and the next morning bright and early, Mr. Catlett and his wife, Nanny and Bob, with the judge and Harry at their head, came in a body to welcome her back to life again. " You are a noble girl, Fanny, and I 'm right glad your Yankee purpose saved the judge and Harry," said Mr. Catlett. "If they f d hung them, I would never have lived in Missouri or Kanzas a day." "Somebody else helped," said Nanny with a blush, throwing in a good word for Bob, who stood rather in the background. " Yes, indeed," said Fanny, " we could have done noth- ing without him. You should thank him quite as much as Nanny or I." " Well, young man," said Catlett, " mebbe now >s as good a time as any to tell you, that wife and I have n't quite known your worth. We have thought Nan might do better, but I reckon now you 've shown so much pluck, you can have her for the asking." " Then I '11 take her," said Bob, seizing Nanny's hand. Dave and Tom Walton here made their appearance. "Miss Fanny," whispered Tom, as he shook her hand, " I 'm mighty glad you 've come to life, though you did *nake a fool of me." The company waited a week longer for Fanny to' regain her strength, and then the whole party set out for La Belle Prairie. They made the journey in safety, and Mrs. Catlett at once ordered Viny to bring her pipe and a shovel of coals, while she took time to recover herself. The young housekeeper welcomed them joyfully, and declared that 378 WESTERN BOR DER LIFE. she thought they never were coming back, but intended to stay at Dave's place forever. " Dave's place no longer," said Mr. Catlett. " He must settle down in Missouri for all that I see ; for as to inter- fering with that woman's land agin, or letting any body else that I can hinder, I sha'n't do it. She 's earned it. and she shall keep it." 'Ria also declared that Madam Hester had been baying dreadful things all the time they were gone, and that one night particularly, about two weeks ago, all of a sudden she gave an awful scream, and jumped clear out of her chair, and then she jabbered away about trouble and sor- low for two or three hours. It was the very night that Fanny wandered out into the wild. The time for parting came at length, and Harry and Judge Stanton left for St. Louis. CHAPTER XLI. UNCLE PETER TAKES A LOOK AT LIFE Ltf 1 HE BORPEB COUNTIES. " SHAKE ! shake ! shake ! Dear ! dear ! what can the matter be? A roaring hot fire in the chimney, shawls and blankets in abundance, and poor I huddled up in the corner, shaking and shivering. Was the breeze that just lifted yonder curtain indeed from the arctic regions, or have the fleas and musquitoes so thoroughly drained my system as to leave it henceforth incapable of warmth? " Chatter ! chatter ! There it is again ; that cold sen- sation that now and then comes creeping over me, making my flesh all 'goose-quills,' as the children say, my limbs to shake with extraordinary energy, and my teeth to beat time most merrily. O dear ! how dreadfully I feel ! What does it mean ? Am I bewitched, magnetized, have I got the St. Vitus' dance, that I sit here shaking away against my will, or have I in some way merited the fate of that wretched man whose teeth, ' through summer's heat and winter's cold, did chatter, chatter, chatter still.' Shall I make a strmd against this rude assault ? Shall I determine, in the very depths of my soul, to shake no more ? Alas ! what does it avail ? Even as I make the resolve, another fit seizes me, and trembling, shivering, shaking, I bow like a bulrush before it. Yes, Viny, I give it up. Put me to bed directly, pile on the clothes, blankets, coverlids, old coats; any thing to infuse warmth; for I am certainly 380 WESTERN BORDER LIFE. perishing with the cold. And, Viny, tell your mistress to Bend for the doctor immediately." "Lors, Miss Fanny, it ain't nothin' but a chill. We all has 'em, you know. You '11 be hot 'nuff by-and-by, when de fever comes." "Nevertheless, Viny, that makes me no warmer at present. If before that time arrives, I become a solid lump of ice, what then ?" " De fever thaw you out mighty quick, Miss Fanny." This was Fanny's first experience of a chill. Others followed in quick succession, and she soon found to her sorrow, that among the ills that flesh is heir to, a " West- ern shake" is by no means the least. Every other day for a fortnight, this tormentor laid his iron grasp upon her, and when at length the little German doctor, who was called in, succeeded by his huge doses of quinine and blue mass, in throwing off the chills, they left poor Fanny so thin and pale, as to be a shadow of her former self. " Yes, yes," said the doctor, in reply to anxious inqui- ries as to whether they would return, " dey come back some day, den you take some dis, take some dat, send dem off. So now you come to dis countree, you get what you call seasoned." " Yes, doctor, but suppose I die in the seasoning," said Fanny, dolefully. " Shaw, Miss Fanny, nobody dies with the chills," said Mrs. Catlett. " I reckon I 've had hundreds in my day." There was one friend, however, who had taken the alarm, and was coming to the rescue. Uncle Peter had lived long enough at the West, to know that a succession of chills was no such light matter, and the thought of his little Fanny away off there on the prairie, shaking off all her bloom, troubled him not a little. So arranging his business as expeditiously as possible, he made his prepara- UNCLE PETER ON THE B O It D E K . 881 tions for starting for the East earlier than usual, and took La Belle Prairie in his way. He came one evening just as the family were taking supper, and with a scream of delight Fanny rushed into the arms opened so cordially to receive her. With tears of joy running down her cheeks, she kissed him again and again, and forgot all her past troubles in her present hap- piness. Uncle Peter was very grave, taking long, anxious looks at his niece, and observing every thing about the establishment with an air of curiosity and surprise. His ill-concealed look of amazement at some of Mrs. Catlett's household arrangements, struck Fanny so ludicrously, that two or three times she could hardly keep from laugh- ing. His horror all burst forth the first time they were alone. " And you 've lived here so long," he exclaimed. " You poor child ! no wonder you got the shakes. I am only surprised that you are not quite dead." " Why, Uncle Peter, it 's pretty comfortable here." " Pretty comfortable ! I should think so. I wonder you had n't frozen to death. Why, see here, there are chinks in this wall where I can put two fingers through." " Yes, but this is the parlor, you know. The other room is where we live. It is much tighter, and then they keep up roaring fires." " Worse and worse. I want to know if you are alJ huddled up in that one room, babies and niggers and ali. O Fanny." " Hush, Uncle Peter, I 'm afraid they will hear you." u I can't help it. Whoever supposed we were sending you to such a place as this. I thought I knew something of western life, but this is coming ' up the country' with a vengeance. I 'm sure I thought they were well enougk off to live in a house, and not in a barn." 382 WESTERN BORDER LIIE. " Well, so they are," said Fanny, a little mischiey ously. " Only look at the silver on the side-board ! Can we make any such display at home ?" " Stuff!" said Uncle Peter. "You might as well put a Brussels carpet on my store-room, in among the greasy barrels. It would be just as appropriate. Look at the tobacco stains on the hearth, and the cobwebs in the cor- ners. I tell you, Fan, your mother's back shed is in bet- ter order this minute than this parlor." " O, uncle ! you are too observing. Your old bachelor eyes spy out every thing. Mrs. Catlett is so fretted, and over-worked, and the servants indolent and careless. You don't know how difficult it is to teach them any thing. I used to long to take hold and show them myself, but of course this would n't do, and so I have tried to get accus- tomed to their ways. You have n't the least idea, uncle, of the difficulty of managing these black servants," " No, I thank my stars I don't know any thing about it. My lot has been cast in a free State, and I mean it shall be. Why in the name of common decency don't they stir round and fix up things?" said Uncle Peter, with sudden indignation. "The idea of putting a man to sleep in a room with half the glass out of the windows. I got up twice last night to move my bed out of the rain, and in the morning there was a puddle of water in the room large enough to sail a small boat." * U O that's nothing!" said Fanny, laughing. "You should have been here before the roof was mended. You see during that long dry spell it got very leaky, and Mr. Catlett thought he could n't spare any of the hands to mend it, and so one night there came up a terrible thun- der-storm. Such times ! It makes me laugh to think of it. We moved, and removed, and moved again ! but still the floods descended, and it is hardly exaggerating to tJXCLE PETER ON THE BORDER. 383 say that before morning we were all afloat. However the next day they set about mending the roof/' W 'I should think so," said Uncle Peter, gruffly. " And they thought you were as tough as they, and could pad- dle round in the water like the rest of 'em, without taking your death of cold. I wonder you ain't dead and buried long ago. Well, that 's your school-room, I suppose, shall we go and see it ? It 's a trifle larger than the nig- gers' huts, ain't it ?" " O, yes, it 's quite a room. You see there 's a cellar underneath, where they keep the potatoes and other vegetables. There 's no cellar under the c big nouse.' " Uncle Peter stepped round in his spry way and looked down the steps. " Why it 's half-full of water !" he exclaimed. " Yes," said Fanny, peeping over his shoulder. " It always is after a rain. There, you see, they keep the vegetables in barrels on a shelf in the corner, and poor little Tom has to wade in after them every day. I pity nim these cold mornings. We can hear him overhead when we sit in school, scolding and shivering, till Tibby, that 's the cook, pushes him in with her long stick, and he makes a great rush, and splashing, and comes out pres- ently with the basin of potatoes on his head, looking like a little drowned rat." " You don't mean to say," said Uncle Peter, who was looking down the doorway, and had paid little attention to what she had been saying ; " you don't mean to say that you have been teaching school here all summer, over a cellar half-full of stagnant water ?" " It was unpleasant at times," said Fanny ; " and I felt afraid that it might be unhealthful, so I spoke to Mr. Cat- lett, and he had it cleaned out once or twice, but it waa 384 WESTERN BORDER LIFE. of no use, for it filled up again the next rain. Besidea there are times when it is perfectly dry." Uncle Peter gave a sort of groan. " No wonder they have chills and fever, and every thing that 's bad. They could n't have contrived a better place for breeding fevers, almost broke her heart. 46 Dis yer 's de wust ob all," she cried. " 'Pears like I could bar to go down alone, but to drag odders along, too. O, chil'en, don't you talk dat way ! Don't you get sot agin de Lord. It 's all jest right, I '11 be whar I belong, but if de Lord will jest let me look ober inter glory, and see you dar a tunin' your harps, and singing His praise, 'pears like I could most feel happy. O, chil'en, it ain't de Lord's fault dat I 'm goin' down to torment, and I '11 praise Him if He does send me dar." "Aunt Phebe," said Fanny, one day, after she had made use of some such expression, " an unpardoned sinner does n't talk that way. If God was as angry with you as you think, you would n't love him like that. The blood of your precious Saviour " "No, no, Miss Fanny, not mine ! not mine !" 44 He is yours, Aunt Phebe, unless you refuse to trust in Him. If you expect to get to heaven any other way than through His righteousness, you are under a dreadful mis- take, and if you will think so much about your own sins, as to shut out all love to your Redeemer, and faith that He can save you, in spite of them all, I don't know but it must be as you say, and you be miserably lost at last." 44 O, Miss Fanny, don't you say dat !" 44 You have been putting too much trust in your own goodness, and now that God has taken away this prop and THE DARK BIVKB. 39} showed you how sinful and vile you are, these very sina serve you as an excuse. You fall back upon them, and put your Saviour out of the question. You put no trust in Him, and so He never will be yours." " I know it ! I know it ! O ! what shall I do ? Whar shall I look ? " Where can you look but to Jesus Christ, aunty ! to 4 the Lamb of God who taketh away the sin of the world !' " " Miss Fanny, I will look to Him ! Mebbe 't ain't no use. Mebbe He won't hear to me, but leastways I'll try." That afternoon Fanny was called down to the cabin to see Aunt Phebe die. The paleness of death was on her face, but the old smile was there, too, and Fanny saw at a glance that all was peace. She was in a kind of stupor, but when they told her that Miss Fanny had come, her dim eyes brightened, and she beckoned her to approach. " He is mine !" she whispered. " O, Miss Fanny, He 's my Lord ! my Saviour ! I 's found Him ! Dar can't nothin' part us no more. I 'm goin' to see Him face to face !" " I knew it, aunty," said Fanny, her own face beaming with joy. " I knew you would find Him again. He never forsakes those who put their trust in Him." " It ain't me !" said the old woman, earnestly. " I -5 done wid dat. I ain't nothirt ! nothiri* ! De Lord Jesue He 's done saved me ! You tell 'em," she whispered, pointing to a group of her fellow-servants, who, with awe- struck faces, stood gazing in the corner ; " tell 'em not to trust in dar own goodness. De Lord He '11 gib ? em de victory. Mass' Jack, Miss Car'line. O, I want to meet 'em all up yonder ! Tell 'em dey mus"* come. De Lord dat died for 'em, He '11 let 'em in. Dey must lub Him. O, dar ain't nothin' in dis world worth gibin up de Lord 398 WESTERN BORDER LIFE. for. I can't speak it, you tell 'em." She gasped for breath. " Aunty, have n't you one word for me ?" said Maud, pressing forward. She was deadly pale, but her large eyes were tearless. " Lord bless you, honey, and comfort your poor heart. You '11 be lonesome like when old aunty's gone, but de Lord he '11 make it up to you somehow. O, honey, tink ob de time when you and I '11 meet up yonder. You 've promised, you know. I shall be a waitin' for you. You won't forget." " I will meet you up there, aunty. If God will help me I '11 begin to be a Christian this very day." The old woman closed her eyes with a smile. There was a moment's silence, and then Fanny's voice broke the stillness of the chamber of death : " Let not your heart be troubled ; ye believe in God, believe also in me. " In my Father's house are many mansions; if it were not so I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you. "And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and receive you unto myself, that where I am there ye may be also. " Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I will fear no evil, for thou art with me ; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. " And I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth were passed away, and there was no more sea. " And there shall be no night there, and they need no candle, neither light of the sun, for the Lord God givetb them light, and they shall reign forever and ever. u 4nd God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes THE DARK 11IVER. 399 and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow nor crying." " Most dar," whispered the old woman, and with tho smile yet lingering on her lips, she passed away. "Thanks be to God who giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ." The same evening, a little before sunset, Mr. Catlett, who had been gone all day to Carte rsville, a town some nine miles from the prairie, returned home, and leaving his horse at the stable, walked up the lane at the back of the house. As he passed Aunt Phebe's cabin, he remembered that ho had left her worse in the morning, and it occurred to him to look in a moment and see how she was getting along. As he opened the door, a ray of sunshine streamed into the room. It fell upon Aunt Phebe's empty chair, upon the bed with its white covering, and upon the bowed head of a child, kneeling at its foot. u Hovv what!" Mr. Catlett suddenly started back. Why did a dullness creep over him, as the stark, motion- less form met his view, and he felt in that room the visible presence of death ? Whence comes the mysterious feel- ing with which the most thoughtless of us look upon the remains of our fellow-mortals, after the spirit has taken its flight ? We tread softly, and speak in whispers in the chamber where the dead one lies, even though that one in life was the meanest and most insignificant of his kind. There is a certain dignity in death that all must acknowl- edge, and he who pays respect to no living person, with bowed heaa does homage to the dead. " Maud," said Mr. Catlett. The child looked up, and pushing back her hair, dis- played a lace bathed in tears, but with a look of calm happiness shining through them, that seemed strangely at variance with the time and place 400 WESTERN BORDER LIFE. " Maad, how came you here ? Who left you all alone ?" said her father, glancing at the bed. " Nobody, pa ; that is, I mean, I wanted to stay. Don't scold Viny, please. I begged her to let me just a little while. Indeed, pa, I couldn't go away," said Maud, bursting into tears. "Why not, child? What use was there in staying here ?" said her father, in a softer tone than was usual to him. Maud struggled to repress her tears, and then, looking timidly up in his face, said, " Pa, I stayed here to pray." Mr. Catlett stared at her, but made no reply. " You see, I promised her just before she died," said Maud, her voice faltering a little, " that I'd begin this very day to be a Christian, and I knew if I asked God here to make me one, he would, and oh, pa" the same bright look returning to her face that it had worn at first " I do believe he has." "Pshaw!" said Mr. Catlett, "they've turned the child's head with their Methodist talk." " Pa," said Maud, too much absorbed in her own thoughts to heed the interruption, " I 'r* glad you 've come I want to ask you something. I' v ; wanted to be- fore, but I was afraid. I want you to forgive me. I 'vo been a bad girl times. I 've done things you and ma told me not to. I 'm sorry, and I 've asked God to forgive me r and now I want you to. I 'm going to try and be a bette. : girl. Will you, pa ?" " Don't ask me, child. I 've nothing to forgive. We are bad enough, all of us, the Lord knows," said Mr. Catlett. Maud ooked at him wonderingly, and then said, in a low voice " She said she wanted to meet you in heaven, pa." THE DARK RIVER. 401 " What makes you think she 's got there herself?" said Mr. Catlett, carelessly, though he turned away from the child's earnest gaze. " I don't think ; I know. That is n't aunty theve, pa, Miss Fanny says so. Aunty's in heaven. O dear, I never shall see her any more," said Maud, with a fresh burst of grief. " There ! there ! Come away, child, you '11 fret yoursdf into a fever. They'd no business to have left you heie alone," said her father. " Pa," said Maud, " I never felt so happy in all my life. Thinking about aunty do n't seem to make me at all sorry. I thought it would. I thought it would be dread- ful to have her die, but now I feel so sure that I '11 see her again up yonder." This was said with all Maud's characteristic energy, her eyes sparkling, and her cheeks glowing with excite- ment. They stood gazing at each other a moment the man of fifty winters, who had grown gray in the service of this world, and the child whose treasure and whose heart were already in heaven. It was but a moment, and Mr. Cattlett turned away with a tear in his eye. " Well, well, child, have it your own way," he said ; and taking her hand he led hei out of the cab ; n. CHAPTER X1III. AUNT PHEBE'S GRAVE. " Ir 's the last time," said Maud. They were walking slowly down the shaded path lead ing through the woods to Aunt Phebe's newly-made grave. " We never shall walk here together any more, Miss Fanny. O, it 's hard to go away after all." Fanny squeezed the little hand that was clasped in hers. " Of course you want to go, Miss Fanny, because it 's your home, and I s'pose you are a great deal happier in that beautiful place you 've told us so much about, than you are 'way out here on the prairie, but it seems as if Cal and I were leaving every thing but you. I don't know what makes it all look so dark to me to-night." " It is n't strange, Maud, that you should feel a little sadly about leaving home. I expect you will feel very home-sick at first in a strange place, but you must try to look on the bright side of things. See now how dark it is down in the woods, while the tops of the trees are all full of beautiful golden light. The sun is certainly shining, though we can not feel it." Maud made no reply, but ran forward a little way, and stooping over a grave she laid a few evergreens at its head, and stood silently by until her companion came up. Then sitting down side by side upon a' flat stump, they talked softly together about the dead, Maud once or AUNT PHEBE'S GRAVE. 403 twice springing up to gather some bright berries she descried in the distance to add to the little offering upon aunty's grave. " She loved every thing bright and beautiful when she was alive, Miss Fanny, and I think there always ought to be flowers on her grave," she said. u Did you ever see any body so cheerful and happy as aunty ? and yet she had n't the first thing to make her so, only religion. She had heaps of sorrow, you know." " I never heard her speak of it," said Fanny. " No, she did n't ever talk much about it, but she told me. O, Miss Fanny, she had two beautiful little babies that they stole away from her in the night, and sold 'em, 'cause she would n't let 'em have 'em in the daytime. She vSaid for years and years she could n't never get to sleep without hearing 'em cry and scream just as they did that night." " She never told me," said Fanny. "Was it long ago ?" " O, yes, years and years, when she belonged to Grandpa Whately. You see, first, her husband, he belonged to another man, that moved 'way off down river somewhere, and took him with him, and before poor aunty had time to get over that, they sold her two babies to a trader, and she just went crazy for ever so long. She said she did n't get no comfort till she found religion, and then she see that it was all right. But I don't think it's right, Miss Fanny. I don't believe God likes to have such things happen. Do you ?" " No, Maud ; I think they are all wrong from begin ning to end." " And you do n't have 'em where you live, Miss Fanny ?" " No, I thank God that we have no slaves in New England." " Then I wish I was going to live there, too, or elsa 404 WESTERN BORDER LIFE. I wish pa would send all the people there, or somewhere else where they would be free. I would, if I could." "He would be a poor man then, Maud, like Tim Jen kins over the creek, who you all despise so." " I don't care. I had rather be ' poor white folks' ai ny life than to have such things happening." " Why Maud, you are getting quite excited." "Miss Fanny, I 've been thinking heaps about it lately I used to talk to aunty, but she did n't like to hear me But I know what I mean to do, Miss Fanny, when I grov\ up. When pa gives me my share of the people,' I 'in going to set 'em all free, every one, and I '11 study real hard and know heaps, and then I can get my living teach- ing school like you do. That 's just what I mean to do." Fanny smiled at the child's enthusiasm ; but she kissed her heartily, calling her her own bravo girl. It was a sorrowful day at La Belle Prairie when Fanny and her two scholars went away. From Mass' Jack and Miss Car'line in the " big house," do\vn to Aunt Tibby and the little piccaninnies in the kitchen, all regretted tbuir departure. Dave was to drive them do\vn to Belchei's to take the stage, and while big William was gearing the horses, Fanny slipped down to the quarters to bid the servants good-by. It was about sunset, and the field hands were just returning from their day's work. They all gathered around her, men, women and children, and while she passed from one to another shaking hands, and speaking a few parting words, there was plenty of sobbing among the women, and one or two of the men wiped their eyes with their shirt-sleeves. "Don't see what on airth we's goin' to do widout her," said Aunt Tibby. " 'Pears like a streak ob sunshine was goin' off de place." AUNT PHEBKS GUAVE. 405 " It does so," said tv\ 3 or three. " Leastways dar won't be no 'ligion left, 1 ' said Viny, 1 Aunt Phebe and Miss Fanny both gone." " Miss Fanny don' forget me," said a little squeaking voice, and black Jake pressed forward with his apron full of berries which ho thrust into Fanny's hands, while Patsey brought her baby in the little dress and apron Fanny had made for it, holding in its chubby hand an egg for a parting gift. " Bless her heart," said Patsey, "she's cryin' her own self," and with a few earnest words of advice, interrupted by their sobs and ejaculations, Fanny took her leave of them. The parting words were all said at last, and the farm- wagon containing the travelers, wound slowly over the prairie. As they approached a curve in the road that would scon hide the house from view, Fanny turned to take one more look at her late home. The sun had set, and upon the golden hue in the west the evening shades were fast settling. The house looked white and ghastly against the evening sky, and two or three trees in front seemed waving their long arms in silent adieu. Fanny gazed till a turn in the road hid it from her sight, and with a tear in her eye, and a feeling of sincere regret in her heart, she bade farewell to her home on La Belle Prairie. CHAPTER XLIV THE FINALE. WIIA* ! no wedding ? Have we followed the young people t trough all their doubts and difficulties, and are we not to see them comfortably married off at last ? It 'a too bad ! Well, dear reader, what could we do ? It was only last winter that our lovers plighted their faith. We can only inform you that they are in earnest correspond- ence, that the young man is pursuing his theological studies, and that they are unitedly bent upon a mission to Kanzas. In their fresh enthusiasm, " hoping all things, believing all things," they will go hand in hand to their work. May God go with them and make them the apos- tles of a pure Gospel. Jack Catlett still occupies the old family mansion, though he feels decidedly poor, for the war in Kanzas, and the loss on the claim, have taken several thousands from his estate. Mrs. Catlett still frets at the servants, and calls oftener than ever for her pipe and a shovel of coals. Maud, the brave, enthusiastic Maud, is in Connecticut, and declares that as " soon as ever she is grown, she will go out to Kanzas and help Miss Fanny to do good." It would not be strange if she should carry out her resolve, for she possesses energy and perseverance enough to ac- complish any thing she proposes, and in spite of Uncle Peter's prediction, that the. ghost of the " grand-daughter of Governor Peters, of Virginia" would rise in indigna- tion from the grave, if one of her descendants should teach school for a living, we expect one day to hear THE FINALE. 407 that Maud Oatlett has become a missionary teacher at the West. That old sprig of Virginian aristocracy, Madam Hester, was found one day dead in her chair, and the dust of the " grand-daughter of Governor Peters of Virginia" has mingled with that of our common mother earth at last. Tom Walton spends much of his time in St. Louis, and it is whispered that he has bestowed his blighted affec- tions upon the beautiful daughter of Judge Stanton, who has kindly consented to make him happy. Bob Turner, and Nan also, expect to be married in the fall, and as Dave, with his bride, are settled on Madam Gamby's old place, that lady being in Kanzas the greater part of the time, we may expect gay times next Christ- mas with three young couples on the prairie. The widow and Zi occupy their rightful claim in Kan- zas, and Jack Catlett frequently declares, with a terrible oath, that nobody shall disturb them if he can help it. Tim Jenkins had found, by conversing with free State men in Lawrence, that he could find schools there for his child, and having made a little sum as a soldier, he determined to take a claim, and remove his family upon it. So immediately after the siege of Lawrence he became a citizen of Kanzas ; but, strange to say, votes steadily for the introduction of slavery, so blind are men to their true interests. Though good men there hoped at first that the change in location would work a reformation in this shiftless man, yet it became soon manifest that as the Ethiopian can not change his skin, nor a leopard his spots, so next to impossible is it for one in years to reform the habits of a lifetime. Tim Jenkins is Tim Jenkins still, but his little daughter attends a school near by, and is a promising scholar. The removal to Kanzas may prove an infinite blessing to her. As for Martha, she had retreated from Lawrence, a* *08 WESTERN BORDER LIFE. soon as she knew that her master was there. She need not have done so. Jack Catlett made little effort to re- cover the fugitive. He did not wish to sell a hand to Texas, and the whole family stood in great fear of the girl, Mrs. C. particularly, declaring that she would rather do half the work herself than to have her round again. After the family returned to the prairie, Martha camo back to the city, where she is an industrious laborer for wages, arid does exceedingly well, so long as the lull of the storms which visit that distracted country laave her unexcited as to her wrongs. But when she snuffs the battle afar off, she seems like a fiend of darkness, and wanders about, working mischief to both sides. Uncle Tim and Aunt Lina are living together in one cabin as the hands of Dave, Mr. Catlett having given this faithful servant to his son. They are superlatively happy in their union, but Uncle Tim has never been able to for- give himself for getting that saw for " Miss Fanny." The future of this beautiful country where our scene has been laid, is, at the time of our completing this his- tory, all enveloped in darkness. No human eye can look far enough adown the vista of time, with the vision of prophecy, to unroll its destiny to men. What trials and struggles may await Harry Chester and Fanny, with Maud Catlett, in their efforts to give true Christianity, with a Bible education, to Kanzas, will de- pend very much upon the solution of the question of liberty and slavery there. Full of great results is the problem of the freedom of this Territory. The history of the State will unfold itself in the moral power of such citizens as Gamby with her slaves, or Harry Chester with a free Gospel. THE END. UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY BERKELEY Return to desk from which borrowed. This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. Aprl8'49;BI LD 21-100m-9,'48(B399sl6)476 M18906 THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY