Skip to main content

Full text of "The Haydocks' testimony : a story of Quaker life"

See other formats
























By L.C.W. 



Athens— 29, Stadium Street. 
Berlin— 29, Behrens Strasse. 
London— 31, Paternoster Square. 
New York — 459, Lexington Avenue. 
Paris— 4, Place du Theatre Frangais. 
Philadelphia — 310, Chestnut Street. 
Rome — 107, Via Nazionale. 


Edward Hicks, Jun., 14, Bishopsgate Without. 




\ M\ 

Digitized by the Internet Archive 

in 2010 with funding from 

University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill 



" Frances, there is a knock at the door ; will 
thee open it? " said Jeremiah Allen to his daugh- 
ter as he stooped to arrange the heavy logs burn- 
ing in the deep fireplace of their living room. 
The girl stepped lightly to the door and opened 
it to a tall youth looking about twenty-one years 
of age ; he entered as one at home and took Frances' 
extended hand of welcome with a merry little bow. 

" Come in, come in, James. I thought it was 
thy figure, but was not quite sure in the dusk ; 
sit down." 

" I will, thank thee," and the youth took the 
proffered chair, while Frances finished clearing 
away the remains of their evening meal. 

" Can thee take me in for the night ? " asked 

James Haydock, for this was the young man's 

name. " Two traveling friends have come to 

Father's, and Charles and I gave up our bed to 

them. Mother put Charles on the lounge in the 
(1) 3 


kitchen, and I thought perhaps you might find a 
place here for me. Is it quite convenient ? " 

" Entirely so, James, thee is always welcome ; 
I will arrange thy room at once," said Jeremiah 
Allen, rising with a twinkle in his merry brown 
eye. He was a small man, thin and wiry, active 
as a squirrel, and, in his suit of butternut brown 
he looked not unlike that nimble little animal. 
His hair was still thick, though gray was plen- 
tifully mingled with the reddish tinge of his 

" Frances, bring me the old quilt from thy 
room," said her father, going to the closet and tak- 
ing from thence several two-pronged forks. His 
daughter obeyed rather wonderingly, but asked no 

" Now, hold it up for me, will thee," said 
Jeremiah, briskly picking up a three-legged stool 
and a hammer ; then stepping quickly to one cor- 
ner of the room, where a stout post had been 
placed as supj^ort to a long roof-beam, he mounted 
the rickety stool. Paying no attention to its un- 
steadiness, and holding the forks between his teeth, 
he struck one after another into the wood-work 
through the old quilt, securing it to the wall and 



post until a space about six feet square was 

" The handles stick out some, but it looks as 
if it would stay," said Jeremiah, stepping back to 
survey his work. " What can thee want better 
than that, James ? Push the sofa in behind the 
quilt and thee will sleep like the king himself, I 
pulled the little lean-to down to-day ; the one thee 
called thy room. It was unsafe." 

"There will be ventilation here too," sug- 
gested Frances, " the quilt reaches neither to the 
floor nor the ceiling." 

"All the better for that," said James. " I will 
run the sofa in, if thee will hold the curtain." 

"With pleasure;" and Frances lifted the 
drapery with two slender hands as James pushed 
the heavy deer-skin-covered lounge across the 
floor toward her. She contrived however, to 
let the heavy quilt fall on his head just as he 
passed under it, and it was with flushed face and 
disarranged hair that the youth emerged from 
his improvised chamber to meet her demure 

" Was the quilt very heavy, Frances ? " he 
asked, looking at her rather doubtfully. 


"Surely thee can tell as much about that as I 
can," she responded graveh^ 

" I have felt lighter coverings," he replied. 
" Now may I help thee put the cloth over the table ? 
Is it as weighty as the curtain ? " 

" No, it is used for covering more delicate ar- 
rangements," retorted Frances, accepting his help 

" I should not wish to be considered a delicate 
arrangement, I think, Frances," said James, as he 
spread the white cloth over the plain square 
table already set in readiness for breakfast ; for as 
soon as the cups, saucers, and other dishes were 
washed, they were returned to the table for the 
next meal — closets being scarce — and were covered 
with a protecting cloth. 

" Very well, we will consider thee only a con- 
venient arrangement, to-night. Thank thee, but 
please put that corner straight," said Frances, 
laughing, as she gave a finishing touch to her 

" It is I wdio am making a convenience of 
you," said James. 

" Children, stop sparring, and come, sit down. 
James, who are the friends at thy Father's house ; 


have they come to attend the quarterly meeting 
to-morrow ? " 

" That is their intention, I beheve," answered 
James, taking his seat by Jeremiah Allen, as he 
answered the old man's question. Frances too 
obeyed the summons. Plainly dressed in a light- 
ish-gray material, she had pinned on a bunch of red 
autumn berries as a breast-knot, for her father saw 
no harm in her thus enjoying the beauty nature 
scatters so bountifully. If God made scarlet ber- 
ries and yellow leaves, why should she not take 
pleasure in them ? And thus it came about that 
when Frances hung holly and clusters of burning- 
bush berries about the yellow pine walls of their 
simple dwelling, Jeremiah Allen never objected, 
though some in this Quaker community thought 
them useless decorations. 

While James Haydock, sitting somewhat in 
the shadow, rests his eyes on Frances' fair face 
with its oval contour and soft color, and tells 
Jeremiah Allen of the unexpected visitors, we will 
endeavor to give our readers a sketch of this set- 
tlement into which we have rather unceremon- 
iously introduced them. 

In the State of North Carolina, not far from 


the borders of the Dismal Swamp, a number of 
Quakers had dared to make their habitation amid 
pines and live-oaks, where wild animals had long 
roamed undisturbed. David Haydock, the father 
of the young man above spoken of, came from 
England, several years before the date at which 
our story begins, with his wife and family, and not 
liking the bleak winds of New England where he 
first landed, he wandered southward in the spring 
of 17 — to a more genial climate. His friend Jer- 
emiah Allen, whose family had been longer in 
America, accompanied him. The two men dif- 
fered in character, but were at one in their relig- 
ious sympathies, than which nothing in reality 
makes a stronger bond of friendship. They built 
themselves homes, and cleared and cultivated the 
land that now rewarded them with abundant har- 
vests. Jeremiah Allen had lost his fragile wife 
soon after their marriage, and her name was carved 
on a gray head-stone in a little New England 
grave-yard. Frances, his only child, is now seven- 
teen, and David Haydock's wife Rachel cared 
kindly for the motherless child and loved her 
almost as a daughter, especially since the death of 
her own sweet girl at about the age of Frances. 


David Haydock had left England to obtain 
greater freedom for the exercise of his simple faith, 
but since settling in the South the wrong of sla- 
very had weighed very heavily upon his spirit. 
It was in the year 1688 that the Friends of Ger- 
mantown, a settlement near Philadelphia, had sent 
out the first protest ever made by any Christian 
church against this sin ; and the Friends had never 
ceased to issue, from time to time, earnest appeals 
to all Christian bodies and especially to their own 
Society, for the release of their fellow men from 
bondage. We recall these facts only to show that 
the Quakers were pioneers in the movement 
against slavery, as they now seem ■ to be in their 
protest against war. If other denominations 
should take up the peace question in the earnest 
spirit which animated the ancient Quakers, what 
results might not bg achieved ? 

At the time our story opens, many Friends, 
especially in the North, had already emancipated 
their slaves. In the South it was nearly impos- 
sible to obtain other than slave labor ; and the 
disapprobation of one's slave-holding neighbors 
made it extremely difficult for Quaker families to 
act independently. 


Thus it haj^pened that David Haydock and 
Jeremiah Allen, both Elders in the meeting, felt a 
heavy responsibility resting upon them in regard 
to these matters. They had liberated their slaves 
some years before, and though two negroes, a man 
and his wife, had remained with the Haydocks, 
the rest of their people had gone North, for a " free 
nigger " was looked upon with dislike and indeed 
was liable to be kidnapped and resold, if he re- 
mained in the South. The Friends had almost as 
great an objection to hiring a slave as to owning one, 
and so it resulted in many families having to do 
most of their own household work, often a hard 
sacrifice to principle. The cases of those Friends 
who still held slaves in this vicinity, in opposition 
to the general views of the Society, were to be 
brought up at the approaching Quarterly Meeting 
and they were to be dealt with as the sense of the 
Meeting should indicate. 

"Well, young folks, it is time for bed," said 
Jeremiah Allen, as the tall clock in the corner 
rang out ten. " Frances,will thee get me the Bible ?" 

" I will," said James, whose graceful courtesy 
distinguished him among the youths of their com- 


He took the well-worn book, in its smooth 
leather cover, from the little shelf and handed it 
to Jeremiah Allen, who read from Isaiah the ac- 
count of the fiftieth year when all the bondmen 
were permitted to go free. This finished, James 
went to bar the doors and Frances stooped to cover 
the embers in the fireplace. 

" Let me do it for thee," said James. " Did I 
tell thee these Friends at father's brought two 
boxes from Friends in Philadelphia containing 
supplies for our monthly meeting members ? It 
has come in time ; for father's coat is getting shabby 
and we cannot get a ' plain coat ' here for love or 

" Father wants a new hat, too, very badly," 
said Frances, " that last heavy rain we had, he 
stuffed his into the broken pane in the window. 
He was too sleepy, I suppose, to know it was not 
his old felt hat, and Jacob Darnley had forgotten 
to bring him the new window glass from the store. 
What a sight his silk hat was the next morning. 
I tried to iron it out, but the brim will curl u]3." 

" Better up than down," said James, as kneel- 
ing on the hearth he looked up with a smile at 
her merry face, " I suppose they will open the 


boxes to-morrow evening after meeting is over. 
All the neighbors will be there to see." 

" I hope there will be something I can make 
a dress of; this is growing so old," Frances sighed, 
for she did like pretty things and it was not very 
often that she got them. She had seen a dark blue 
cloth habit on a young girl living on a neighbor- 
ing plantation, and she longed for one just like it. 

" If there is nothing, I will ask mother to send 
for what thee wants," said James, rising from the 
hearth and picking up the berries Frances had 
dropped from her belt, " Would this color do ? " 

"Bright red?" exclaimed Frances, horror- 
struck. " What is thee thinking of? Oh, no, I 
suppose I must have something gray." 

" Thy hair is not gray," remarked James. 

" Neither is it red ; thee deserves one blanket 
less for that insinuation," said Frances, as she went 
to get him the necessary coverings for the night. 
Following to relieve her of her bulky burden, he 
caught one of her hands between the folds, but 
did not seem to know it until Frances freed it 
from captivity with an impatient little pull and 
waved it dangerously near his ears. Then he 
disappeared, retreating to his lounge behind the 


quilt ; while Frances shut herself up in her little 
room with cheeks very much the color James 
had suggested in regard to her hair. 

Both the young people were soon asleep ; but 
Jeremiah Allen lay awake pondering the question 
which burdened his mind. How should the curse 
of slavery be wiped out of their society ? The re- 
signing of all domestic service would fall heavily 
on many women among the Friends and it was 
impossible to find other help than the negroes. It 
was not wonderful that the eyes of many were 
blinded to the wrong of slavery, or, that others 
owning the wrong, knew not how to avoid it. It 
seemed a necessity, yet it was sin, and sin is 
never a necessity. 

" ' He will direct thy way,' " Jeremiah Allen 
said at last, and fell asleep. When he awoke the 
sun was shining; Frances had the corn-bread, 
eggs and coffee on the table ; James had milked 
the cows and fed all the stock, groomed the two 
horses which Frances and her father were to ride 
to meeting, and both young people looked as if 
the weight of the society matters lay but lightly 
on their minds, although they did truly share 
their parents' convictions and willingly made the 
sacrifices that these convictions entailed. 




Breakfast disposed of, James Haydock left his 
neighbor's hospitable board and returned to aid 
his parents in making arrangements for their visi- 
tors to attend meeting. There were few wheeled 
vehicles in this unimproved country, and the roads 
were not such as to encourage their increase ; but 
David Haydock owned a coach, and when James 
vaulted over the fence marking the boundary line 
between Jeremiah Allen's small farm and their 
own larger one, it was standing in the barnyard 
waiting for the horses to be attached. Charlie and 
Anna, the younger children, were standing by the 
carriage watching the proceedings with much in- 
terest. The visit of these Friends was a great 
event in their secluded lives, and the delight of 
extra feasting in the house and of- greater state in 
going to meeting, was only slightly clouded by 
the prospect of a very long session of the quar- 
terly gathering. But Quaker children are early 


trained to self-control, a most desirable character- 

Uncle Billy led the horses out and while 
James helped in the harnessing, Charlie said : 

"Brother James, does thee think I can sit 
beside uncle Billy on the front seat ? " 

" Thee will have to ask father about that," 
replied James. " Anna, thee may sit behind me, 
I will put the pillion on Nero." 

" Will he go slowly ? " asked Anna, for riding 
behind her brother on his large black horse, though 
a joy, was rather a fearful one. 

" I will keep him quiet," said James, smiling 
at the small figure in a big sunbonnet. " Don't 
let him see that head-rigging though, he might 
take it for a barn door." 

" That should not frighten him," gravely re- 
sponded the little lassie. 

" Thee is right there ; run round to the house 
now," and James soon had the saddle on Nero and 
followed the carriage to the front porch, where 
stood the two visitors conversing with David Hay- 
dock and his wife Rachel. She made a pretty 
picture standing under the vine-clad lattice-work; 
the Lady Banksia roses still showed a few late pale 


yellow clusters among the dark green branches 
and the coral honey-suckle threw its scarlet wreaths 
over the brown i3illars, drooping so as to almost 
touch the soft grays of her bonnet and shawl. 

There was not much conversation in the 
heavy coach as it rolled over the pine-needles 
scattered so thickly along the sandy road, for the 
meeting to be held to-day was one of great gravity, 
and the matters to be discussed, not only had an 
important bearing upon the present company, but 
might and did, affect future generations. 

As we have said, the first protest ever issued 
by any Christian church against slavery, came 
from the Friends of Germantown ; and a copy of 
this protest may be seen to-day hanging in the 
Friends' Free Library in that place. To the same 
profound conviction of the equal rights of men so 
boldly put forth by the Society of Friends may be 
traced the beginning of the abolition movement. 
William Lloyd Garrison became interested in this 
cause through his friendship with Benj. Lunday, 
a pupil in the school of John Woolman, the Quaker. 
Stephen Grellet and William Allen influenced 
Alexander I, of Russia, to take measures for the 
abolition of serfs, an act which was accomplished 


peaceably in the reign of Alexander II, French- 
men who were in America at the time of the revo- 
lution, were much interested in the views of the 
Society of Friends and carried their sentiments 
home with them. Especially was this the case 
with Jean Pierre Brissot, the statesman of the 
Girondists. To his efforts may be traced the 
Proclamation of Emancipation in Hayti by the 
Commissioners of the French Convention. Thomas 
Clarkson also gave good evidence in his labors in 
behalf of suffering humanity, of the influence the 
Quakers had over him. 

James Haydock paced slowly along behind 
the coach, and little Anna sat silently grasping her 
brother's waist, not disturbing his meditations. 
The youth also was pondering the slavery ques- 
tion in a practical way, for a young colored man 
owned by his father and lately given his freedom, 
had been hanging around his old home in the 
hope of getting his wife away from Mr.Bolton,owner 
of the next plantation ; he refused to sell her 
to David Haydock, and indeed threatened to send 
her further south. Mr. Bolton was bitterly opposed 
to Friends' views on the slavery question and 

knew that David Haydock only wanted to pur- 


chase Rosa in order to give her freedom. Dan, 
the negro V)oy, wanted to get to the sea-coast with 
Rosa and take a sailing vessel to the North; but 
how, was the question? His old master would 
abet no stealing of slaves or help a neighbor's 
property to run away. James had seen Dan the 
day before lurking around the barn and felt un- 
easy lest he should resort to some desperate meas- 

Jeremiah Allen on his old gray horse, and 
Frances with her lively brown pony, soon joined 
the Hay docks on their way to meeting, and many 
a grave-faced man with his wife riding behind 
him were added to the company of earnest souls 
moving toward the meeting house. A few carts 
on two wheels jolted slowly over roots unseen in 
the sandy road and must have brought their oc- 
cupants in a very bruised condition to the place 
of assembling. Occasionally a heifer or a young 
steer was harnessed by ropes to these uneasy char- 
iots, and carried the whole family along with a 
frisky little trot that suggested a possible upset. 
It was difficult to maintain much dignity in these 
unevenly-moving vehicles, and Frances' brown 
eyes danced as she watched a family jogging along 


in front of her. The father was driving from his 
board seat in front of the cart, while his wife and 
children occupied the straw covered floor behind 
him. The equipage was pretty full, but the two- 
year-old baby did not seem to fasten anywhere 
and kept up a lively oscillation between the sides 
of the cart, the rest of the family being too much 
occupied in easing themselves over unexpected 
obstacles presented to the wheels, to take a firm 
grip at any time of the flying little one; and 
Frances was thankful when they all turned with- 
out accident into the large enclosure bordered with 
sheds that surrounded the meeting house. 

" What will thee do with the baby now ? asked 
Frances, as the mother descended from the seat, 
and with sundry jerks straightened out the much- 
tumbled calico frocks of herself and children. 

" I think she will sit quietly with me, thank 
thee," replied the mother, calmly settling the in- 
fant's sunbonnet, " she has a griddle-cake in her 
pocket and moreover may be glad to rest." 

Frances thought this very probable, and tuck- 
ing her riding habit under her arm, followed into 
the meeting house. The sun was throwing golden 
beams through the unshaded windows, mellowing 


to a warm richness the deep brown color of the 
yellow pine used for finishing the interior of the 
building; floor, walls, roof and seats all partook 
of this ripened tint, and the cushions softening 
the hard benches did not deviate from the general 
tone. The men walked into the building one by 
one and quietly took their accustomed seats. 
David Haydock led his visitors to the first place 
in the gallery facing the congregation, and sat 
down next to them. The women, in odd mingling 
of calico, silk and woolen garments, gathered upon 
their side of the house with their children be- 
side them; little legs dangled, and little heads 
propped themselves uneasily against the single 
rail forming the back of the bench ; soon the last 
step had sounded up the uncarpeted aisles and a 
solemn silence settled over the assembly. Out- 
side, the hush was scarcely less profound ; the sun 
had absorbed the early autumn haze and now lay 
clear and hot on the rather scant grass in the 
meeting-house yard. No breeze waved the gray 
moss hanging from the oaks, no bird chirped, no 
squirrel chattered, only an occasional stamp of a 
horse's foot was heard on the sandy soil. 

After a period of solemn waiting, the silence 


was broken by Jacob Pemberton, one of the stran- 
gers, who rose in the gallery, facing his waiting 
audience, and laid his hat on the seat behind him. 
A slight indefinable movement throughout the 
meeting expressed its readiness to listen ; but no 
general change of position or expression disturbed 
this quiet company. In a full, deep-toned voice 
he began : 

" This is the word unto Jeremiah from the 
Lord, ' That every man should let his man ser- 
vant, and every man his maid servant, go free. ' " 
Then followed an earnest setting forth of the argu- 
ment against slavery to which we have all so often 
listened. Long and eloquently the speaker 
pleaded ; the sun crept from wall to floor and from 
one side to the other of the windows ; sleepy little 
heads under sunbonnets bobbed and nodded till 
at last the hoods were taken off and the weary 
heads were allowed to rest on their mothers' laps 
until the speaker had finished his strong appeal. 
Just before the close of the first meeting, or meet- 
ing for worship, Rachel Haydock, giving her gray 
silk bonnet into the hands of her next neighbor, 
knelt in supplication, petitioning for the careful 
guidance and loving care of the Father in whom 


they trusted, and in following whose teachings, 
they might be called on to make much personal 
sacrifice. A pause followed the conclusion of her 
prayer and then the two men near the head of the 
gallery quietly shook hands and the first meeting 
was over. Several men rose from their seats on 
the floor and proceeded to close the solid shutters 
that divided the meeting house into two rooms, 
and so the men and women in their separate 
apartments i^roceeded to the transaction of busi- 
ness. Mothers permitted their restless children to 
run out and amuse themselves in the yard, while 
the clerk of the women's meeting raised the shelf 
attached to the railing in front of her in the gah 
lery and placed the minute-books on this conve- 
nient desk, another woman taking a seat beside her 
to assist in the transaction of business. 

The men's meeting may have greater interest 
for us, for although the women managed what 
business came before them with much intelligence 
and careful thought, the larger and more weighty 
matters were handled and decided upon by the 
men. As soon as the necessary 2:)reliminaries were 
attended to, David Haydock, who was the clerk, 
arose, read the letters of introduction for the vis- 


iting Friends, and asked at the same time if their 
company was acceptable to the meeting. Several 
of the older Friends arose to signify, in a few 
words, their willingness to receive the strangers 
and listen to the messages they felt called npon to 

After a brief pause, Jacob Pemberton thus 
spoke in reference to the subject weighing upon 
his mind : 

" I have been led to consider the purity of the 
Divine Being and herein is my soul covered with 
awfulness. Many slaves on this continent are op- 
pressed and their cries have entered into the ears 
of the Most High. Such are the purity and cer- 
tainty of His judgments that He cannot be partial 
in our favor. In infinite love and goodness He 
hath opened our understanding from one time to 
another concerning our duty to these people and 
it is not a time to delay. Should we now be sen- 
sible of what He requires of us, and through re- 
spect to the private interests of some persons, or 
through a regard to some friendships which do not 
stand on an immutable foundation, neglect to do 
our duty in firmness and constancy, still waiting 
for some extraordinary means to bring about their 


deliverance. God may by terrible things in right- 
eousness answer us in this matter." 

Many another earnest sentence followed and 
when the speaker sat down, a silence prevailed, 
which was presently broken by an elderly man, who 
thus expressed himself: " I have well brought up 
eleven slaves and now feel as if they must work to 
support me." He said no more, but reseated him- 
self with his wide hat-brim pulled over his eyes. 
Another acknowledged that he had fifty slaves, 
and could but admit it was wrong ; but could see 
no way out of it at present. Hardly had he seated 
himself when a brisk little man rose from one 
corner of the room and suggested that perchance 
interest had dimmed the vision of the Friend who 
had spoken last and hoped he might be favored 
with clearer light on the subject. Another pause 
ensued and then an anxious looking man rose, 
saying : " I own but two slaves, all the rest having 
been given their freedom ; my wife is in feeble 
health, has a family of young children and would 
not be able to do without help. I find I can hire 
little if any free service. Will Friends kindly 
give mo their judgment as to what would be right 
in this matter ? " 


This was a difficult and not an infrequent 
case. It was earnestl}^ considered ; most of the 
Friends agreeing that it would be right to free 
the slaves with a proviso that they should remain 
a limited number of years for fair compensation, 
and that in the intervening time efforts should be 
made to introduce free domestic service into the 
community. Many opposing views were presen- 
ted, " but at length truth in a great measure tri- 
umphed over her enemies," and without any pub- 
lic dissent the meeting agreed that the teaching of 
our Lord and Saviour should induce Friends to 
set their slaves at liberty, and four Friends were 
appointed to visit and acquaint all members of 
the Society that were still slave-owners with this 
decision. This was a difficult duty, but it was in 
time faithfully performed. One who shared it 
writes : " Looking to the Lord for assistance, He 
enabled us to go through some heavy labors, in 
which we found peace." 

Midday had softened into afternoon when the 
door of the men's meeting house opened; the 
grave company issued forth, and the slanting rays 
of the sun lit up the earnest countenances under 
the broad brimmed hats. On many of these faces 


one might trace a struggle passed through, a decis- 
ion reached and a peace granted that no earthly 
power could disturb. 

" Great peace have they that love the Lord, 
and nothing shall disturb them." 

The women had already concluded their 
meeting and had their noonday meal. Frances 
was talking to the wife of him who so feared the 
liberating of their two old servants and the worn 
pale-faced woman was anxiously awaiting the ar- 
rival of her husband. It was to her almost a 
vital point, so unable was she to perform her 
household duties unaided. A glance at his face 
as he came toward her showed what was the decis- 
ion and she turned after him, following silently to 
the shed where their old horse stood sleepily 
nodding after finishing his feed of hay. Frances 
ran after her. 

" I am coming to see thee to-morrow, Hannah 
Alston," she said, then added in a lower voice, 
" Father says the Master always takes care of his 

"Thank thee, Frances," said Hannah, turning 
toward the girl, the sweet expression of a sacrifice 
called for and given, already dawning in her worn 


face, " The Lord will provide for us, I know," but 
Frances' bright face was sober beyond its wont as 
she watched them ride slowly away. 

" It is hard for families like that," she said to 
herself, as she walked to her own little pony. Her 
father was still talking to the visiting Friends and 
the Haydocks. Frances wondered why James did 
not come as usual to assist her in mounting, but 
the young man having been keenly interested in 
the day's proceedings, and also much attracted 
toward Jacob Pemberton, had lingered to listen to 
what they were still saying. Frances felt a little 
provoked at his forgetfulness and going to her 
father, touched his arm, " Father, the sun is nearly 
down, shall we go ? " 

" It is time for us all to go home. Here is 
the coach. Friends, will you return now to sup- 
per? You must be tired," and David Haydock 
placed his family in the big carriage. 

A pleasant faced old man straightened the 
brown cushions on the browner benches in the 
meeting house, set the carpet foot-stools or bosses, 
in order, and locking the heavy door, shut away 
the sunshine from the now empty building. He 
handed the key to David Haydock as he was get- 
ting into the coach. 


" Isaac, thee still has thy old negro, hasn't 
thee ? " queried David. 

" He is still with me," replied Isaac Coxe. I 
doubt if he would go anywhere else, and I should 
feel regret at allowing any one but myself to care 
for him in his old age. He can do little or noth- 

*' Thee has been a kind master to him," said 
David, as he shut the carriage door after him. 
*' Drive on, Billy." The once stately coach rolled 
slowly through the deep sand, and Isaac Coxe fol- 
lowed, having mounted his horse with the deliber- 
ate motion of old age. His slave Csesar had 
broken the animal for the young master long ago, 
and all three were advancing in years together. 
The quiet meeting-house yard was deserted, except 
for a wild rabbit that loped softly out of the shad- 
ows and, after a careful survey of the premises, 
nibbled the sparse grass at its ease, quite satisfied 
that the Quarterly Meeting was over. 




The Aliens and James Haydock had ridden 
toward home some time before, and parted at the 
cross road near their respective homes. James' 
black horse was pacing sedately up the close ave- 
nue of live oaks leading to his father's house, 
when Dan, the colored boy, stejDped forward and 
laid his hand on Nero's bridle. 

"Mars' James, oh, do tell me what to do! 
Mars' Bolton dun say he gwine sell Rosa down 
Souf nex' week. I seed Rosa dis ebening. We 
mus' get off to de swamj) or some whar befo' dat. 
When Mars' Pemberton go 'way ? " 

" Take your hand off Nero, he will stand," 
said James, for the horse was impatiently shaking 
his head under the tightened rein. "See here, 
Dan, don't go to Bolton's to-morrow, keej) round 
here and see me toward evening by the barn. I 
think I can help you get away." The negro's 
mention of Jacob Pemberton had put an idea into 


the young man's head. If Dan and Rosa could 
only get away so as to join the Friends some dis- 
tance off where they were not known, they could 
travel as Friend Pemberton's servants and no 
questions asked. The thing to be considered was, 
would the Quaker blood allow the passive decep- 
tion ? James feared not. 

" Dars a pedler goin' cross de swamp to- 
m€?B©er or nex' day an' I tink he gwine to cut ober 
to de seacoast, after dat, in a few mo' days. He 
kinder half Quaker, nebber did 'blieve in holdin' 
slaves, he say. Mebbe he'll help us. Can't stan' 
it here, no how," and Dan clinched his fists and 
ground his heel into the sand, then stepping back, 
was lost in the deep shade of the oaks as the big 
coach came up the avenue, while Nero cantered 
with his double burden up to the house. 

" Run into supper, Anna, I'm coming too, as 
soon as I have put up Nero," said her brother. 

The young man was undecided whether to 
ask the traveling Friends to take Dan and Rosa 
under their charge or trust to the pedler who he 
supposed was going through to Norfolk. The 
Friends would be the safest, as they were known 
to have freed their slaves and often traveled with 

OLD C.-ESAR. 31 

free colored servants. No one would be likely to 
question them, but then David Hay dock oljjected 
to assisting his neighbor's slaves to escape, and 
his objection was shared by all the Friends. Well, 
he would think it over and see how the way 
ojDened ; meanwhile James was hungry and the 
sight of the supper was welcome as he entered the 
dining-room with its well-spread table. The 
lamps were lighted, and shone with soft radience 
over dainty damask, clear glass and bright silver. 
Chicken, fried as only Southern cooks can fry it, 
displayed its crisp brownness at one end of the 
table ; plates of raised bread, delicious corn cake 
made of the delicate white meal, and flakey light 
bread were ranged in numerous plates along the 
board ; j^oung autumn radishes, salad, and the 
clear crimson of barberry jelly made a most in- 
viting spectacle, and Anna's eyes rested long- 
ingly upon it as she sat in a little straight- 
backed chair beside the freshly kindled fire wait- 
ing for the Friends to come from their cham- 
her which oi^ened from this same dining-room 
and on the other side looked out on the broad 

Rachel Hay dock had just set a basket of 


j)Ound-cake on the table, when James entered, his 
earnest face in a glow. 

" Mother, may I brush my hair in thy room? 
The Friends I see are still in mine." 

" Go right in, my son ; Charles, thee needs a 
little tidying also," said the mother, as her younger 
son ran in after James, his hair much disheveled. 

" I hate sleeping in the loft," he confided to 
James, " I wish these Friends would go." 

" I thought thee slept in the kitchen," said 

" No, mother made me a bed in the loft and 
the strings of onions swing right over my head 
almost touching my nose, and the squirrels scam- 
per round all night rolling hickory nuts. I believe 
they dance with the rats." 

"What does thee know about dancing? " asked 
James, smiling at the boy as he brushed his hair. 

" Saw it once at Bolton's. Come, the Friends 
are ready at last," and they all drew round the 
bountifully spread table, bowing their heads be- 
fore beginning the meal in grateful silence. Dur- 
ing supper the conversation turned ujDon the old 
slave owned by Isaac Coxe ; he was haj)py, well 
cared for, and would be retained in his comforta- 

OLD C.-ESAR. 33 

ble home until the end of his life ; he was too old 
to work and it seemed a case that might well be 
left alone. Jolm Mifflin, however, the Friend ac- 
companying Jacob Pemberton, sat in silence 
throughout the meal, and afterward expressed his 
conviction that he ought to visit Isaac Coxe ; James 
Haydock offering to go with him, they set out im- 
mediately after supper. Few words were ex- 
changed on the way, for John ]\Iifflin was seeking 
Divine guidance for the performance of the diffi- 
cult task before him, and James was pondering 
whether it were wise to introduce the subject of 
the boy Dan's escape with Rosa, to this simple- 
minded man. 

Finally before reaching the house, he spoke, 
" What does thee think about helping slaves to 
run away from their masters ? " 

" God's laws are higher than man's, but I 
should rather remunerate the owner for his loss," 
was the answer, and there was no time for further 
discussion. In response to their knock, Isaac 
Coxe opened the door and politely received his 
visitors. They sat down, and after a few Avords 
on ordinary topics, there was a pause. Isaac 
Coxe's eves silently interrogated his callers, and 


then John Mifflin kindly opened his concern about 
old Csesar. The slave's master expressed some 
surprise that any uneasiness should be felt in this 
case, but finally consented to sign the form of 
emancipation, saying at the same time that it would 
not alter their relations, as the old man was jDcr- 
fectly happy. He rose and put his name to the 
paper John Mifflin handed to him, while James 
Haydock called in Csesar and gave him a chair. 
The old man was bent nearly double ; his thin 
hands were propped on his knees, his white head 
was thrust forward, and his keen, restless, inquir- 
ing eyes gleamed alternately on the strangers and 
his master, who presently spoke, telling him that 
he was no longer a slave, and that his service en- 
titled him to a maintainence during his life. Old 
Caesar listened in breathless wonder, his head 
slowly sinking on his breast ; after a short j^ause 
he clasped his hands, then spreading them high 
over his head, slowly and reverently exclaimed, 
"Almighty God," bringing his hands down again 
between his knees. Then raising them as before, 
he twice repeated the solemn exclamation and 
with streaming eyes and voice almost too choked 
for utterance, he continued, " I thought I should 


die a slave and now I shall die a free man." His 
hearers "were too much moved to break the silence 
which followed, and all sat together in the flicker- 
ing firelight until Isaac Coxe said in a rather un- 
certain voice, "Thee may go now, Qesar," and 
with tottering stejDS, but with a new light in the 
old black face, the newly freed man turned to the 
door saying, " Good-night, an' God Almighty 
bress yo' all, gemen." A few parting words and 
John Mifiiin with his young companion walked 
away across the grass whereon the china trees 
threw wavy shadows under the moonlight, while 
Isaac Coxe returned to his meditation before the 
fire. We may record the fact here that when this 
Friend was called to face that supreme moment 
when all other pictures of time fade out, the old 
face of his former slave rose before him, full of 
solemn joy and devout thanksgiving, and 
strengthened him as with the blessing of God. 

The next morning as Frances was busy about 
her various household avocations, James Haydock 
appeared on the threshold with a bunch of vio- 
lets in his hand, which he tendered Frances, and 
then stood silently watching her as, with a bright 
^' Good morning," she took the flowers and fast- 


ened them in her belt. She looked at him inquir- 

" Thee has something weightier than violets 
on thy mind, this morning, I think, James," she 

"Yes, I have, Frances," he responded, "and 
want thy counsel about a matter that I must de- 
cide on to-da^'. Come and sit down here a few 
minutes. Thy father is out ? " 

" He has gone to Friend Alston's," said Fran- 
ces, seating herself on the door step. 

" Ah, he is the poor Friend with the sick wife 
and big family who do not want to free their 
slaves. Well, it is harder than people know to dO' 
a thing like that; it would go hard with me, 
Frances, to see thee toiling as Hannah Alston 

" I never mean to," said the girl quietly. 

James gave her a quick glance from under 
his Ijlack brows, but her eyes were looking away 
into the sunny calm of the October morning ; she 
seemed only observant of the blue jays darting 
about among the yellowing leaves of the hickory 
trees, yet he noticed a merry curve about the cor- 
ners of her mouth. 

OLD C^SAR. 37 

" I never half appreciated this slavery ques- 
tion till the past few days," he began. " You 
know father's boy Dan ? Well, he is nearly wild 
over the thought of losing Rosa, and I don't won- 
der, for they were married only a month ago, and 
now he wants me to help them get to Norfolk. I 
cannot tell father anything about it ; it is better 
he should not know ; I had thought of asking the 
Priends at our house to take them, but decided not 
to do so. Once get them to Norfolk and they can 
take a sailing vessel north. 

"Can I help thee? Where is Rosa?" asked 
Frances, her sweet face now fully awake. 

" That is just it," said James. " Rosa is down 
at the far end of Bolton's plantation, where he put 
her to work, to keep her out of Dan's way, and if 
he goes there he will be seen and rouse suspicion, 
and I fear my going would have the same effect. 
Thee is always riding round the country, could 
thee see her and tell her to slip off to-morrow 
afternoon? Old Bolton is going away for a few 
daj's, and he really don't think Rosa will try to 
get away." 

" But where must she go? " queried Frances. 
*' W^here can she meet Dan ? " 


" I will tell thee," replied James. " Dan 
knows a pecller who is going through to Norfolk 
to-morrow night; he crosses the swamjD about 
eight o'clock in the evening, ten miles from here, 
and if Rosa can get ofif while the hands are at 
supper, between five and six, Dan will meet her 
just up the road under the big bay tree at the en- 
trance of the swamp. It gets dark early now, so 
I do not think they will be noticed. The over- 
seers are always lax when Bolton's away." 

" Must Rosa walk that far, ten miles ? " said 
Frances, " can't we help them ? " 

" I think it is better not. The less we are 
seen with them the less notice will be taken of 
their movements. But I mean to take a ride 
through the swamp late to-morrow afternoon." 

"Oh, may I go too," exclaimed Frances, 
springing up in her eagerness. 

" Go ? Yes, anywhere," answered James, rising 
at the same instant ; there was an inflection in his 
voice that made Frances stop and glance at him ; 
a new manliness seemed to have invested him, 
an unusual decision and readiness for action. 
Probably Frances felt the change in him, for she 
turned cjuietly into the house, her eager manner 
subdued for the moment. 


" I will get my hat and try to see Rosa now," 
she said. 

"All right, I will saddle the pony and have 
him directly," and James disappeared to return in 
a few minutes with the pony ready for the slender 
maiden waiting on the door step. 

" Mother wants thee and thy father to come 
to our house this evening to tea. The boxes from 
Philadelphia are to be opened and all the neigh- 
bors are coming," said James as he put Frances 
into her saddle, and then walked beside her down 
the lane, his hand on the pony's neck. Frances 

" Oh, we will come surely ; those boxes are 
very interesting, and the neighbors are such fun, 

" Thee makes fun of everything, Frances," 
said James, an answering gleam of amusement 
crossing his own face. 

'' Why shouldn't I ? " asked the girl looking 
down at her companion mischievously, but her 
face softened as she met his earnest gaze with a new 
feeling in it that she did not quite understand, or 
was not ready to understand perhaps. 

" Our roads part here," she said, touching her 


pony lightly with her whip as James removed his 
hand, " Supper will be ready early, I suppose, this 

" Yes, come early," he answered, as he watched 
her canter away, and then turned homeward to 
find the boy Dan, who was awaiting him in the 

" Oh, Mars' James, 'spose old Bolton should 
come back to-morror ; 'spose Rosa couldn't steal 
awa}^ or gits caught, what should we all do ? " and 
Dan twisted his old straw hat nearly to pieces as 
he thought of all that the next twenty-four hours 
might bring of weal or woe. 

" Don't keep supposing ; don't think of the 
danger, Dan, it will take all the man out of you," 
said James, who usually dropped the plain or 
Quaker mode of address when speaking to the 
negroes; *'I see no reason why things should not 
w^ork right, and the pedler turning up just now 
seems to me a Providential arrangement. Make 
up a bundle of j^our clothes, not too big, mind, 
and I will give you some money to-morrow." 

" Thank you. Mars' James," said Dan, as 
James turned to go into the house. 




"James," came his mother's pleasant voice 
from the kitchen, " I want thee to go and ask 
these Friends to come here this evening to supper, 
^nd help with the boxes," and she gave James a 
list of names as she spoke. Engaged in her ample 
preparations for the evening's hospitality, the 
pleasant thought of which brightened her face, 
Rachel was an embodiment of svv'eet mother- 
liness. She was not aware of the new-born 
thoughts in her boy's mind. She knew that he 
had a quick, restless temperament, derived from 
his Irish ancestry, and tliat it had developed 
earl}^, but she did not comprehend that he had ar- 
rived at man's estate, neither had she any suspicion 
of his special regard for Frances Allen, 

Merry, willful, passionate, but full of energy 
and generous impulses was the girl he wanted to 
make his own. Surely his wooing would not be 
difficult ; she knew few men except himself and 


he could but feel that she preferred him to all the 
other youtlis in the neighborhood. He would ac- 
quaint her with his feelings and she would soon 
respond. With these thoughts in his mind he 
rode forth on Nero to attend to the mission his 
mother had given him ; calling at one house and 
then another, and leaving bright faces behind 
him in every family that received the invitation, 
for supper at Rachel Haydock's was a pleasant 
prospect in itself, without the added attraction of 
the big boxes and their valuable contents. His 
errand accomplished, he was riding homeward 
when two equestrians cantered quickly past him, 
scattering the sand in his horse's eyes. So quickly 
and silently had they come along the road, that 
James scarcely woke to their presence till Frances^ 
merry face turned to give him greeting as she 
flew by, flushed with the exercise and, as he 
thought, with pleasure in the society of her com- 
panion whom he recognized as young Bolton, the 
son of Rosa's master. 

" Confound him," he muttered under his 
breath, for if he had had any doubt as to his 
feeling for Frances this chance encounter would 
have settled it. How could he know that the 


brightness of the girl's face was due to the fact 
that she had accompHshed her mission to Rosa 
just before Hal Bolton met her, and was now doing 
everything she could to draw the young man off 
the track and lull any suspicion that might arise. 
All James knew was, that no other man but him- 
self must have the right to bring such roses to 
Frances' face. But this is not a love story, and 
we must not linger over feelings, which, though 
absorbing in youth, give place as years go on, to 
the knowledge that principle and action are more 
necessary than love alone to make one's hap- 
piness. Fortunate are those who in their life-work 
can gain rest and strength from the full love and 
sympathy that gives a double spring to all action. 
By four o'clock in the afternoon the Friends 
began to gather upon the wide piazza, and in the 
large low-ceiled rooms of David Haydock's hos- 
pitable dwelling. Those horses that the stable 
could not accommodate were tethered to fences 
and trees. The older portion of the company 
held sober converse inside the house, while the 
younger members gathered upon the porch and 
shyly entered into conversation on farm matters, 
the expected opening of the boxes, or the new 


additions lately made to the meeting-house library. 
Frances was late, and James having reasoned him- 
self into a more sensible frame of mind about the 
companion of her morning ride, was watching for 
her father and herself down the long avenue. 
In a few minutes, Frances came cantering up 
alone, and James went to meet her. 

"Father has sprained his ankle and w411 not 
come to-night," she explained, as James helped 
her to dismount. " I have seen Rosa, she is sure 
she can get off, and is so glad ; oh, James, I do 
hope nothing will interfere," Frances said ear- 
nestly, as she looked up at him, "thee thinks it is 

" We will make it safe, please God," was his 

"SujDper is just ready; I will go help thy 
mother wait on the Friends," said Frances, and 
slipping off her long riding-skirt, she was soon 
busy among the guests. 

The repast concluded, eager faces gathered 
round the box over which Rachel Haydock was 
bending, her gray silken dress rustling softh' as 
she stooped and rose, bringing out the supplies 
sent by thoughtful Friends in the Korth. 


" Hannah Alston, thee wanted something for 
the little ones, didn't thee ? Here are small gar- 
ments that will save thee a world of sewing," and 
the Friend addressed came forward with a grate- 
ful smile spreading over her worn face, to take the 
bundle handed her. 

" Tom Clarkson, these have not come a bit 
too soon," said James rather mischievously, as, 
helping his mother, he drew out a pair of panta- 
loons from the box and gave them to a tall lank 
youth standing near by, who wore a pair of nether 
garments much too short for him, though the 
darker stripe of material running above the faded 
hems showed that all possible provision had been 
made for his growth. The " letting down " how- 
ever, had not sufficed, and a vision of gray stock- 
ings still showed above the shoes. 

" Thank thee, James, I shall not regret the 
shortened wear of these I have on," responded 
young Clarkson, joining in James' laugh ; " I will 
just step into the kitchen and see if they will fit." 
" Do so, Thomas," said Rachel Haydock. " Fran- 
ces, I think this will suit thee, will it not ? " 
Frances took a long roll of dark blue merino from 
the hands of her kind friend and turned away to 


examine lier new treasure. James followed her 
softly, and suddenly enveloped her head and 
shoulders in a fleecy white shawl which he had 
drawn from the depths of the box and concealed 
until he could surprise Frances with it. 

" Look at thyself, Frances," he exclaimed ; 
and raising her head she saw her own face re- 
flected in the mirror by the fitful gleam of the fire. 
Flushed, laughing, a little annoyed perchance, her 
eyes revealed a deeper feeling than she was aware 
of, for there often comes to us, curiously enough, 
from our own reflection in the glass, a revelation 
of something we were but half conscious of be- 
fore, as if the fleeting image knew more about us 
than we did ourselves. She pushed the shawl 

" James, thee must not give me this, it was 
sent for some old rheumatic lady probabl}^" she 
said, half pettishly. 

" AVill it not prevent rheumatism as well as 
cure it ? " he asked. " Is it a remedy for all aches 
and pains ? I am half inclined to keep it my- 
self. Charlie may want it though, if father sees 
what he is about," the elder brother added, sud- 
denly aware that Charlie and Anna had been 


diving into the other box, which stood in tlie 
shadow of the curtain dividing the long room into 
two i^arts. This box contained men's clotiiing and 
a few plain Quaker bonnets. From the depths of 
one of these latter coverings peered Anna's merry 
little face, and enveloping her small figure was a 
huge gray shawl which trailed behind her. Thus 
attired she watched Charlie struggling through 
the mazes of a large coat ; he found the armholes 
Avdth difficulty, and the final result of his opera- 
tions resembled a heap of ready-made clothing- 
topped off with a large broad-brimmed hat. k. 
ripple of laughter from Frances at the sight of 
the two little antic[ues, attracted the attention of 
David Haydock as he moved among his guests, 
saying a few kindly words to one and another. 
He turned and beheld in the dancing firelight 
the transformation of the two younger children. 
Acting from impulse was not one of David Hay- 
dock's foibles, but it was surely not in consequence 
of any grave forethought on this occasion that he 
took the hand of each and led them into the cen- 
tral group of his visitors. The momentary pause 
produced by the spectacle of the two small figures 
so curiously attired broken by an irrepressi- 


Lie burst of laughter from the young people, and 
over the grave faces of the older ones went a de- 
corous smile, while the little faces reddened and 
bent lower and lower till Charlie's hat slipped over 
his face, effectually concealing him from the pub- 
lic gaze. 

" Rachel, I think perhaps the children had 
better go to bed," remarked David Haydock to his 
wife. She took Anna's hand in her's and was 
leading her away, leaving Charlie still in the ob- 
scurity of his large hat which he lacked courage 
to raise, when Frances said, " Let me take Anna, 
please. I will see to her," and soon the little lassie 
was unrobed and comforted with a piece of cake 
in her unexpectedly early retirement. 

" Charlie, can thee find thy way up stairs ? " 
asked David Haydock, and the boy, much impeded 
in his progress by his unaccustomed garments, 
slowly made his way up the ladder to the loft. 

" Had thee not better leave thy coat for some 
larger person ? " asked his father again, a broad 
smile finally spreading itself over his counte- 
nance, and Charlie, reassured by his father's tone,, 
hastily slipped out of the garment, letting it drop, 
while he fled to the protecting shadow of the 


loft amid the renewed peal of laughter from 

Soon after this episode the company dis- 
persed, well satisfied with the events of the even- 
ing. James Haydock accompanied Frances home, 
and discussed the escape of Dan and Rosa, which 
w^as planned for the following night. The two 
visiting Friends were still up when James re- 
turned, and he sat with them listening, as they 
talked long into the night of the curse of slavery, 
and how difficult it would be to eradicate an evil 
whose roots had spread so deep and far, twisting 
themselves into the very heart of the social system 
and threatening it with moral ruin at uo very 
distant day. 





The next clay was warm, almost sultry ; one 
of those balmy days that return in late October 
to remind us that summer still lays a lingering 
touch on hill and dale. The birds twittered, loit- 
ering amid the thinning foliage as though reluct- 
ant to quit their summer haunts. 

The Friends staying at David Haydock's had 
made an early start that morning, intending to 
visit a few more families who still held slaves and 
required some peculiarly tender but clear in- 
struction as to the right and wrong of so doing. 
David Haydock and Rachel went with their 
guests in the old family coach, telling James they 
might not return till the day following. 

" Oh, mother," said little Anna, " may Fran- 
ces come and stay all night with us ? I do not like 
to sleep alone." 

" I would be very glad for her to do so, if her 
father can spare her ; perhaps James can see her 


to-day and bring her over," Rachel Haydock re- 
plied as she stepped into the carriage. 

"That is just the thing, I don't believe her 
fether wants her half so much as we do. Does 
tliee, James ? " 

" No, Anna, I do not believe he does," 
answered her brother, as he tucked the lap-rug 
carefully round his mother and shut the door of 
the coach. 

The day passed quietly ; James rode Nero in 
the afternoon to Jeremiah Allen's, and the old man 
cheerfully assented to his daughter's passing ths 
night at David Haydock's. He was very fond of 
James, and saw with a calm satisfaction the 
friendship between him and Frances. If he him- 
self were taken away, he felt as if his daughter 
might have a very happy home in the young 
man's family, all of whom he felt assured would 
give her a hearty welcome. The merry little old 
gentleman, however, showed at present no signs 
of leaving this s])here for a more enlarged one. 
He was, after all, hardly past the prime of lite — a 
rather dry and wrinkled prime, to be sure, but as 
full of sweetness as the hickory nut a brown squir- 
rel just then dropped on tlie roof of tlie porch 


under which Friend Allen sat watching James 
and Frances ride away. The sun, dimmed by 
haze all day, was now almost shrouded in gather- 
ing clouds which hung heavily over the Dismal 

" We shall have a thunder-storm this even- 
ing," soliloquized Jeremiah Allen, as he noted the 
threatening sky. 

Frances presided over the early tea at Friend 
Haydock's, and then Charlie and Anna watched 
the youth and maiden mount their horses and 
start for an evening ride, James' large deer-hound 
trotting behind them. These expeditions were so 
frequent as to call forth no comment. 

" We shall be back soon, young ones," said 
James ; '' Charlie, go to bed earl3^" 

" I will," rei^lied the boy, and Anna called 
after them : 

" Frances, mind thee sleeps with me, I will 
leave the door open for thee." 

" I will not forget it, Anna," replied Frances, 
nodding back as the two horses cantered away. 
Neither spoke for some time. 

" How dark it is getting, James," Frances was 
the first to break the silence. 


" All the better for Dan and Rosa, they must 
be well on to where they were to meet the pedler, 
but I would like to know that they have gotten 
there safely. It is their only chance of reaching 
Norfolk for many a day." 

" Does thee think a storm is coming? " asked 
Frances, guiding her pony nearer to the big black 
steed James rode. 

" It looks lighter toward the west ; I think it 
may clear ; here we are at the swamp, it does look 
pretty dark in there." 

In truth it did ; the live oaks gave w^ay to a 
thicker growth of bay and cypress, the latter ris- 
ing with pale gray trunks from pools of black 
water whose presence was made known only by 
their glimmering reflection of the faint light still 
struggling through the trees. Now and then a 
wider stretch of water would make a break in the 
wall of foliage, but so silent and forbidding looked 
these pools that you could fancy them haunted by 
many a spiteful water-demon, and when a long 
black snake slid from'under the hoofs of Frances' 
j)ony and descended into one of these dark pools, 
breaking the sullen surface into, long ripples as it 
swam across, lifting its narrow head to look back- 


ward, she screamed and put her hand on Xero's 
mane. The next moment however, she laughed. 

" How absurd I am," she said, but added as 
she turned to her companion, " Is thee really going 
to ride ten miles through here ? " 

"Is thee afraid, Frances? AVe will go back 
if thee says so," he replied. " I did not think it 
would be so dark," he added half to himself. 

" No, we will go on," she said, " the horses 
know every step of the way and the road is good." 
Her naturally high sj^irits thus asserting them- 
selves, they rode on at full speed. In a few min- 
utes a sharp flash of lightning, followed by heavy 
thunder, told them the rain was near, and as flash 
succeeded flash, James was seriously alarmed, for 
these storms often proved severe in this region 
and the high wind frec|uently laid low many a 
forest tree. 

" There is an old house not far from here," 
said James, " If we can reach it we will be shel- 
tered from the rain at all events." 

They hurried forward, the constant lightning 
revealed the road in ghost-like gleams beneath 
their feet, enabling them to discern each others' 
horses and the red body of the hound following 


ill long leaps. The heavy shadow lifted some- 
what as the road came to an open space, where a 
deserted hut, built by negroes cutting timber in 
the swamp, stood among heaps of old logs and 
brushwood. The profound stillness of the forest 
was broken by the rising wind that foretold the 
approaching storm and the branches tossed and 
creaked under the sighing gusts. The horses 
picked their way carefully over the loose logs to 
the little shanty, and James, springing to the 
ground, lifted Frances from her saddle. 

" Go inside, and I will put the horses in the 
shed," he said. " The rain is just beginning. 
Rex, stay here." The hound crouched beside 
Frances, but seemed annoyed and uneasy, look- 
ing suspiciously into the gloom of the room be- 
hind him as if scenting something. The girl too 
fancied that she was not alone in that ruined 
abode, but felt as if some other living presence 
was there, and this vague feeling made her thank- 
ful to hear James' step returning through the 
house ; he stood beside her, looking out into the 
obscurity around them. Frances glanced behind 
her, but said nothing. 

" We are fortunate in obtaining shelter, for 


here comes the rain," and he drew Frances fur- 
ther inside as a flash of lightning came simul- 
taneously -with a crash of thunder, and both seemed 
drowned in one and the same instant by a sheet 
of water descending straight from the sky. They 
could see nothing through the gray wall of rain 
that shut them in. A rustle and a deep breath 
from the back of the room made Frances shud- 
der and press more closely to James, who threw a 
l^rotecting arm around her, and exclaimed sharply, 

"Who's there; speak out will you? " 

" Oh, Mars' James," said Dan's voice, " I jus' 
wasn't shore who yo' had by yo' or I would have 
'lowed we was yere." 

" Dan, how under heaven ! " exclaimed James, 
and Rex sprang forward to paw the colored Ijoy 
over, for he was very fond of him ; many a meal 
had they shared together. 

" Where is Rosa ? What made you stop 
here?" asked James. "Why don't you goon?" 

" Rosa's done gone sprained her foot an' she 
can't walk a bit furder, an' de pedler, he'll be gone 
by an' what shall we do ? " groaned Dan, while a 
stifled sound of crjang gave evidence of Rosa's 
being beside him. 


" Oil, James, what will they do? Poor souls, 
it does seem too, too had after getting this far. 
AVill they have to give it up?" said Frances, 
withdrawing herself gently from the arm that still 
encircled her. James struck a match and looked 
at his watch. 

"Here's a pine knot. Mars' James, I took 
notice of it befo' it came so dark," said Dan, and 
soon a little heap of pine was blazing in the 
rickety old chimney. 

" The only thing to do is to put Rosa on thy 
pony, Frances, and let me take her to the cross- 
roads. Dan can run beside us and we can all 
stand a wetting, I think, in so good a cause," said 
the young man. 

"And leave me here?" asked Frances, her 
voice quivering a little in spite of herself. 

" That is the worst of it," said James, " I do 
not like to leave thee even for half an hour." 

"Never mind," said Frances more steadily, 
" I wanted to help and now I can. Rex will stay 
with me and it will not be for long." 

" No, an hour at the outside," replied James, 
*■ the rain seems stopping a little ; I will get the 
horses ; Dan, you get your things and lift Rosa on 
to Miss Frances' pony." 


In two minutes the horses were ready and 
Rosa, with a brightening face, was seated on the 
brown pony, whose gentle eyes turned on her new 
rider in an inquiring fashion. 

" De good Lord mus' have sent yo yere, Misses 
Frances," said the cjuadroon. 

" I think He did, Rosa," Frances gravely re- 

" Dan, put your hand on my stirrup, it will 
help you along quicker," said James. "Frances, I 
can't bear to leave thee, but I am sure there is 
nothing to liurt any one, and Rex is good com- 
pany." He lingered however, looking wistfully 
at her. 

"Oh, do go quick, you will miss the pedler, I 
am all right," cried Frances, seating herself on 
the floor with Rex at her side, and immediately 
James was in his saddle and both horses sprang 
out on a canter; they ciuickly disappeared through 
the fast-falling rain, and the lessening sound of 
their hoof-beats was all that broke the stillness. 
This ceased presently and Frances felt that she 
was alone. Rex pressed close to her, and soon 
Frances rallied and lifted her face from his 
smooth head whereon she had dropped it for a 


moment. He pounded the floor with his tail as 
if to assure her that he would do all he could to 
protect and comfort her. 

The rain gradually ceased, till only the drip, 
drip from the roof could be heard. The fire died 
out and left the hovel in darkness. But j)resently 
as Frances looked out, a soft brightness appeared 
in the sky, and the moon broke through the 
clouds. The white boles of the cypress gleamed 
in the silvery light ; the bay leaves glistened, wet 
with the rain, and a whip-poor-will, balancing him- 
self on a bough near by sent forth his long, low call. 

Frances felt less nervous and the big hound 
lay lovingly with his head in her lap, very quiet, 
but awake and watchful. Time passed slowly 
however, and once Frances started at a shadow 
creeping over a log, it was only a passing cloud, 
but she grew oppressed with the intense stillness 
and strained her ear to catch a sound of the re- 
turning horses. Suddenly Rex lifted his head 
and in another moment Frances heard the faint 
irregular click of hoofs. 

A few minutes after James halted in front of 
the cabin with the horses ; and she si3rang for- 
ward to meet him. 


" Oh, how glad I am to see thee back," she 

'' Was it very lonely ? " said he, " I would keep 
loneliness away from thee forever if I might." 

Her head drooped on his shoulder and she 
did not say him " Nay," as his lips touched hers 
for a moment. 

Rex poked his nose into his master's hand 
and wagged his tail, as Frances withdrew to her 
pony's side. 

" The horses look tired," she remarked, pro- 

" I fancy they are," James replied, " but we 
must be getting home for all that. I feel as if I 
never should be tired again, Frances," he said as 
he lifted her into the saddle. 

" Did thee meet the pedler ? " she asked. 

" He was just coming whistling down the 
road as we reached the corner ; fifteen minutes 
more and we should have been too late," James 

*' It has been a good night's work for Dan and 
Rosa," said Frances, soberly. 

"And for me," said James. 

Frances urged her horse into faster pace and 


Nero following, they were soon at the door of 
David Haydock's dwelling, standing silent and 
shadowy under the still uncertain light of the 
moon. While assisting Frances to alight, James 
longed to say something more than just goodnight, 
but words did not come easily just then, and 
when, after stabling the horses he entered the 
house, the room was empty and silent ; a solitary 
candle burned before the mirror, the hound lay 
asleep on the mat near the firej)lace ; and after 
locking the front door, James retired to his own 
room to aream happy dreams. 




The next morning James found Frances busy 
about the preparations for breakfast, and in vain 
did he try to get a word alone with her, or a glance 
from her brown eyes which seemed to avoid him 
as she moved from the kitchen to the breakfast 
room helping aunt Jane with deft fingers. 

Charlie and Anna kept up a lively chatter 
about all sorts of things, and soon after breakfast 
was over Frances announced her intention of re- 
turning home. 

" Father is still a little lame with his sprained 
ankle, and I do not like to leave him any longer. 
Charlie is going to see me home with tlie old 
horse," she said. 

" No, I don't think he is ; he has something 
else to do," James remarked quietly, and Frances 
glancing at him knew she had in this lover of 
hers, a different person to deal with from her for- 
mer merry boy companion. In her heart she 


liked the change, and although their ride between 
the two farms was a rather silent one, yet when 
they neared Jeremiah Allen's, and James turned 
to her, checking her horse's pace into a walk, she 
made no effort to urge the pony onward. 

" Frances, say something to me," the young 
man pleaded. " Thee is not as tliee was last 

" What shall I say ? " answered Frances, look- 
ing intently at a bush that brushed her pony's 
ear. Her cheeks flushed as she stretched out her 
hand to reach some scarlet berries hanging on the 

" I will get those for thee, if thee wants them," 
said James, leaving Xero to nibble tlie thin grass, 
while he gathered the bright clusters and put them 
into Frances's hand. Then looking earnestly into 
her face, said : 

" Tell me thee loves me as I love thee." 

" Why should I tell thee that ? " the girl re- 
plied, a little smile passing over her face, her 
head bending lower, however, as she met his 

" Just because I want thee for my wife, and 
— oh, Frances, do not say me ' No.' " 


" I will not say ' No/ James," Frances said 

And James knew from the shy look she gave 
him that the desire of his heart was won, though 
she was in a very different mood from the excited 
one of the night before. Now she instinctively 
held him at a distance. 

Jeremiah Allen was writing at his straight 
legged little table as Frances ran in, and gave his 
daughter a rather absent though an affectionate 

" Is James there ? " he asked. 

"He has just taken Nixie to the stable, 
father," replied his daughter, standing beside him. 

" Will thee run out and ask him if he objects 
to putting Doctor into the gig ? I must ride over 
to Isaac Coxe's and my ankle still troubles me a 

Frances hesitated and yet there was no reason 
to be assigned why she should not do her father's 
bidding. Being under her own roof too, gave her 
more confidence ; and after a moment's pause, she 
gathered her skirt over her arm and went towards 
the stable. 

Some pictures impress themselves on our 


minds with a vividness that is never effaced, and 
often these impressions are among the most famil- 
iar and commonplace surroundings. It was so 
with Frances at this moment. The regularly laid 
wood-pile near which she passed, the chips be- 
neath her feet sending out a fresh woody fragrance 
under the sun's warm rays, the low brown barn 
with the chickens loitering about the door enjoy- 
ing the perfect sunshine and the blue sky above 
them, James Haydock's figure, as he stood under 
the shadow of the sweet gum tree tightening the 
girth of his saddle, all impressed the girl uncon- 
sciously, yet in a way never to be forgotten. The 
gravity of his face vanished as he looked up, 
roused by her step, and coming forward impetu- 
ously, he took her in an embrace that might dissi- 
pate all her reserve from that time forth. 

" James, Father wants thee to — I can't speak 
if thee holds me so tightly," said the girl, gently 
endeavoring to free herself 

" Very well, thee can speak now and forever 
just here, for aught I care," loosing his hold of 
her just a little as she gave her father's message. 
James acted upon it in due time and after care- 
fully helping Friend Allen into the gig, took his 


own way homeward, as Frances had disappeared 
within lier own room and was evidently not to be 
seen any more just then. 

David and Rachel Haydock returned home 
to dinner that same day, and toward evening, as 
the mother w-as teaching little Anna some of the 
necessary household work in the kitchen, David 
Haydock sat looking over some letters in a small 
alcove opening out of the living room. His son 
James was copying accounts at a dark, old-fash- 
ioned desk beside his father, when a knock was 
heard and without waiting for permission to enter, 
Mr. Bolton, the slave-owner of whom we have 
spoken, came in and approached David Haydock. 

" Good-day, Mr. Haydock, may I speak to 
you a few minutes ? " he asked. 

" Thee is w^elcome, neighbor Bolton ; sit 
down," and David Haydock handed his visitor a 
seat, resumed his own in the carved arm-chair, 
and waited for his visitor to speak. James, after 
a slight bow to Mr. Bolton, continued his occupa- 

'' Mr. Haydock, I do not know how far you 
are resi^onsible, but I have lost a girl of mine 
whom you once tried to buy, and our surmise is 


that she has gone off with your boy Dan. They 
tell me on the plantation that she was there late 
yesterday afternoon, but did not come to supper 
with the rest of the hands, and this morning she 
is nowhere to be found. Can you tell me any- 
thing about her ? " 

There was a certain insolence in the man's 
manner that made James' blood boil, but he 
made no sign, neither took part in the conversa- 
tion. " I am sorry for thy loss, neighbor Bolton," 
replied David Haydock, " but can give thee no 
light on the subject, I was away all day yesterday 
and last night; only returning this noon." 

" Exactly," said Bolton, " You, and 3^our hon- 
est Friends, who think it no harm to steal a 
neighbor's property, went away yesterday morning 
and most probably made arrangements to take 
my girl Rosa to meet her rascal of a husband, as 
he calls himself, at some point northward. You 
know all about it yourself, but will not help a 
man to recover his own," Bolton spoke angrily. 

"Thee knoAvs I never approve of helping 
other people's slaves to run away," responded 
David Haydock calmly. " We are not responsible 
for the wrong-doing of others and therefore can- 


not interfere, excejot in so far as we try to set be- 
fore them the way of truth. I have often labored 
with thee about the sin of holding slaves, but 
having failed to persuade thee, can but let it rest. 
Nevertheless, I would not assist thy so-called 
property to run away, although I sympathize fully 
with the longing for liberty that prompts such an 

Bolton scowled. 

" You really tell me that you have not gotten 
the girl off? " he queried doubtfully. 

"I have not, and moreover I have heard 
nothing from John Pemberton or his friend that 
would induce me to believe that they knew aught 
about the matter; thee can get no information 
here," answered David Haydock. James' lip 
curled with irrepressible amusement, as he bent 
his head lower over his writing. 

" I venture to say that young sprig beside you 
knows all about it then." Bolton began again, 
looking at James. 

" James ? " said David Haydock in surprise, 
turning to look at his son and dropping the paper- 
cutter he had been toying with. " I do not think 
he would be likely to know anything about it." 


He picked up the paper-cutter again, crossed his 
neatly clothed legs and sat quietly regarding his 
visitor. James still wrote on, though the last ray 
of sunshine had crept away from under the vine- 
clad porch and the large room was beginning to 
darken. Bolton felt baffled. Suddenly he ex- 
claimed : 

" You are ruining the country w^ith your 
cursed anti-slavery notions. A man will not be 
able to say his soul is his own before long, much 
less his property, and here you sit in your con- 
founded self-righteousness and call wrong right, 
and openly abet stealing another man's goods. 
You're no less than a set of thieves." 

" Friend Bolton, thee has said all that is neces- 
sary ; perhaps we had better close this interview 
for the present," quietly remarked David Hay- 
dock, slowly rising from his chair till his large 
figure stood erect and dignified before the angry 
man. James had risen at the same moment and 
stood close beside his father, as tall, and, if not as 
broad, more lithe and active, with a blaze of in- 
dignation in his dark blue eyes. 

" Mr. Bolton, I shall take pleasure in showing 
you the way out ; it is growing dark and you may 


not find it easily," and the young man stepped 
forward with an air of command so irresistible 
that the disappointed and enraged slave-owner 
could do naught but obey. 

After watching Mr. Bolton's retreating figure 
a moment, James returned to find his fiither with 
hands clasped behind him, thoughtfully pacing 
the floor, wdiile Charlie put a match to the fire 
ready laid in the ample fireplace. The flames 
leaped and danced, lighting up James' face as he 
leaned against the mantle-post. His father paused 
oi:>posite him. 

" James, thee was twenty -one years of age last 
week ? " 

" I was, father." 

"Then thee is responsible for thy own ac- 

" I ought to be so, father." 

" That is probabl}^ the case, and I shall ask 
thee no questions." 

" I appreciate thy confidence and will honor 
the trust," his son replied. 

Supper was just then brought in and neither 
at this time, nor afterward, was any allusion made 
to the escape of Rosa with Dan, except once, a 


few weeks afterward, when James handed to his 
father a lettei from Philadelphia, saying that the 
pair had passed safely through to Canada. 




It must be remembered in reading this account 
of the escape of Dan and Kosa that such a thing 
was far more easily accompHshed then than in 
later years. Run-away slaves were then com- 
paratively few, and as a consequence, less care 
was taken to prevent their flight. Telegraphic 
communication did not exist and traveling facili- 
ties were poor, so that to overtake and bring back 
run-aways was a difficult matter. Once a fugi- 
tive was fairly off, the owner might give up all 
hope of seeing him again. This Mr. Bolton 
knew, and the knowledge increased his anger 
as he went home, baflled in his attempts to 
gain any information from David Haydock, to 
whom he had gone, feeling him to be one upon 
whom he could legitimately vent his rage. The 
calmness with which he had been met, only 
served to provoke him the more. He struck 
angrily with his heavy, loaded cane at the bushes 


l^ordering the road as he went home through the 
plantation. A shrill derisive laugh, apparently 
provoked by his actions, fell on his ear ; it issued 
from a thicket close beside him, and he recognized 
a half-witted negro boy swinging on the wild 
grape vines, 

" Mars' Bolton mad at somefing ? Has Rosa 
run away an' can't be foun' no how ? " He broke 
out mockingly into a line of a hymn ; " She's 
gone, she's gone to Canaan's happy shore," and he 
swung on his grape vine toward Mr. Bolton, stoop- 
ing and looking full into his face. The cane was 
lifted and a heavy blow aimed, not at the boy, 
but at the stem he was on, for Bolton did not 
really mean to injure him, but as the negro bent 
down, the stroke fell on the back of his head and 
laid him senseless at the white man's feet. Shocked 
and horrified, Bolton stooped to lift the boy up, 
but the form hung on his hands like the dead 
■weight it was, and as he turned the limp head to 
the still bright western sky, it w^as plain to be seen 
that the half-witted spirit had fled to a sphere 
■where a new intelligence was granted it. The 
loaded cane had struck the base of the brain, and 
its work had been swift and painless. 


" What shall I do with him now ? " said Bol- 
ton. " I did not mean to kill him. I'll let people 
suppose he fell off and broke his neck. His old 
mother will be better off without him anyway ; I 
reckon Bill was nothing but a care to her and 
she'll be glad he's gone." So saying, Bolton pulled 
the unresisting form under his grape-vine swing 
and left him in the dew and dim starlight, while 
the old mother sat in her cabin waiting for the re- 
turn of the child who supplied the sole interest 
of her lonely life, and whom she loved, though he 
was so wayward and capricious. Old Milly had 
been free for several years, and had chosen to stay 
near her old home when her former master had 
moved away ; she, with her boy Bill, living in a 
tumble-down cabin on a corner of David Hay- 
dock's farm. The Haydocks saw that she did not 
suffer for necessaries and Bill would occasionally 
do a half day's work, a thing he could easily ac- 
complish when the fancy took him, for he was 
big and strong as these " innocents " often are. 
Beside his mother, James Haydock was the only 
person for whom Bill showed any attachment, and 
to him, this half-witted boy frequently brought 
squirrels and 'possums that he had trapped. No 


more of these wild gifts would the motionless 
hands ever hring, and few indeed were the people 
who would mourn Bill's departure from his little 

After the first shock at the result of his reck- 
less blow, the old feeling of contempt for the 
" nigger " returned to Bolton's mind. One less or 
more was very little consequence anj^how ; some 
people even doubted that they had souls, and cer- 
tainly he regarded them as little above the brutes, 
this one especially ; moreover. Bill had been an 
object of interest to the Haydocks and shared in 
the dislike with which Bolton regarded the whole 

" They will make search and find him in the 
morning ; I will not disturb myself more about 
it. Grinning idiot that he was, to provoke me 
so ! " and the slave-owner moodily walked on 
homeward. He was not unkind to his own 
negroes ; indeed they were fairly happy under his 
rule ; but to have complete control of a number 
of one's fellow-beings and to exert over them an 
authority from which there is no appeal, curiously 
enough, instead of evoking the highest and best 
qualities within us, usually bring out the brute. 


About the middle of the following afternoon, 
James Haydock, while helping uncle Billy repair 
the hinges on the barn door, saw old Milly com- 
ing toward them across the potato field. 

" Old Milly is getting more feeble every day ; 
don't you think so, uncle Billy?" 

" Yes, Mars' James, dat she is ; I reckon her 
Bill wear her out ; he is a mighty onexpected 
kind of a critter an' nothin' is as wearin' as dat 
sort of sudd'nt s'prise he gibs her all de time." 

" Good-evening, aunt Mill}'^," called James as 
she neared them, walking slowdy, " how is Bill ? 
All right?" 

" Dats jest it. Mars' James, Bill's been called 
to glory in de twinklin' of an eye, an' it has kinder 
upsot me." 

"What! Milly, you don't mean to say that 
Bill's dead ? " said James stopping his work and 
looking at her, " here, sit down on this log ; you 
look tired out," seeing how swollen were the poor 
old eyes and how grief-stricken was the wrinkled 

" Deed, Mars' James, it is tryin' to de flesh, 
dese onexpected movements of Bill's, an' dis j'ere 
one's de wust I ever 'sperienced. Dey foun' him 


dis mornin' a layiii' on Mars' Bolton's back road 
under de grape vine twists lie's allars so fond of 
swingin' on. Pears as if de motion soothed him, 
an' de}'' say he mus' a swung too hard an' jes' fell 
off an' broke his neck. Oh, why. Bill, did yere go 
an' leab yere old mammy alone in de cabin to 
wait till de golden chariot calls fo' her at de do'," 
and the poor old creature broke into such unre- 
strained sobbing that James was glad to see the 
comfortable figure of his mother's cook coming 
towards them. Aunt Jane took the weeping 
woman into the kitchen, where soon Rachel Hay- 
dock was soothing her with sw^eet and comforting 
words, and before long James saw her wending 
her way back to her cabin with slow uncertain 
steps, bending under her burden of woe, so great 
to her, though almost less than nothing to most of 
those about her. 

" James, old Milly wants to have the funeral 
from our meeting house," said his father, when his 
son came in to supper, " and if thee is willing to 
go and see that everything is done carefully, it 
can be so. It seems to be a comfort to these peo- 
ple to have as much ceremony at such times as 
possible. Can thee go to-night ? " 


" Oh, yes, I will go, to be sure ; it is about the 
last thing I can do for poor Bill. He was really 
fond of us ; it was only yesterday he brought me 
a squirrel he had trapped." 

" Very well ; here is the key ; do not let them 
keep it up late." 

. " I will try to hold them within bounds, 
though it is not very easy. I think I will take 
Frances, if she will go on Nero," said James. He 
had told his parents of his new relations with the 
maiden, and their satisfaction was only less in 
degree than his own, for the}' had ever felt a warm 
love for her, and this engagement was very pleas- 
ant to them. 

The clear yellow of an October sunset was 
still lingering in the west when James rode up to 
the steps of Friend Allen's porch and fastened his 
horse to the post near by. Frances was singing 
to herself as she moved about the living room, and 
looking up saw James enter, his figure obscuring 
the fast fading light. 

"Is thee alone, Frances?" was the 3'outh's 
question as he came forward to greet her. 

" Enough so to make thee a welcome guest," 
replied the girl, a little mischievously, though the 
soft color deepened on her cheek. 


" Then thee only makes me welcome when 
thee has no one else to talk to ? " 

" I doubt if ever so much company would in- 
crease my wish to see thee." 

" James, thee is always welcome,"' said Jere- 
m.iah Allen, issuing from the door of his little 
room and shaking hands with his future son-in- 
law, " will thee not sit down ? " 

" I came to see if Frances w^ould go out with 
me to-night," James said, turning to seek her face 
in the darkening twilight, and then he told them 
of old Milly's sorrow and of the funeral to be held 
at the meeting house. 

" I would like to go very much," said Fran- 
ces. " Father, can thee saddle the pony for me ? " 

" I have the pillion on Nero, Frances ; he is 
quite used to going double, if thee is willing to try 

Frances hesitated and then laughed. 

" I suppose thee thinks I might as well begin 
to grow accustomed to going double too ? Per- 
haps thee is right ; I will be ready in a minute." 
In spite of the girl's i^ropensity to tease, there was 
a sweet frankness about her that showed her heart 
was in the right place and gave an earnest that 


she would never carry her playfulness far enough 
to hurt the feelings of any one. In a few mo- 
ments Nero paced gently down the road, stepping 
carefully under the newly assumed burden, to 
which he was destined in future to become well 

It was quite dark as they neared the meeting 
house, and from many directions the eye could see 
the twinkling of torches as the negroes gathered 
from those j)lantations within easy distance. The 
news of any event among these bond-people spread 
with curious quickness ; both Kosa's escape and 
Bill's death were well known at the adjacent 
farms, and the slaves had sent a request to their 
masters to allow them to attend the funeral of the 
half-witted boy whom they all had known. These 
requests were granted, as the slave-holders were 
not averse to their people having a little variety 
in a harmless fashion. Mr. Bolton especially felt 
it in this case a sort of compensation he owed old 
Milly, and willingly permitted his slaves to join 
those who were to carry Bill to his last rest- 
ing place. No one knew his share in the catas- 
trophe; no questions had been asked; and he 
did not feel it incumbent on him to say anything. 


When James and Frances entered the meet- 
ing-house yard it was full of moving forms whose 
black faces showed but dimly under the glare and 
smoke of the light-wood torches. 

James fastened Nero in a shed and passed 
through the crowd. It opened to let himself and 
Frances approach the door, before which stood six 
men bearing a rude coffin. As soon as the house 
was open, James and his companion stepped in- 
side and stood, while the crowd pressed by, follow- 
ing the coffin-bearers to the head of the middle 
aisle ; there they deposited their burden in front 
of the gallery facing the rest of the benches. The 
torches had been stacked, still burning, in many 
pyramids about the yard ; the only lights inside 
of the meeting house were four candles, two at the 
head and two at the foot of the now open coffin. 
In and out of the dim circle of light thus formed 
the dusky figures passed silently, taking their last 
look at the features well remembered by them as 
wearing only mocking and derisive grimaces, now 
so quiet and almost sweet in their relaxed rigid- 
ity. Noiselessly the dark forms passed around 
and onward until all were satisfied. The}^ then 
took their seats in tlie body of the meeting house, 



the only persons remaining near the coffin being 
the bent figure of old Milly and the negro min- 
ister; above them were the high iinoccu2:)ied 
benches, their front railings gleaming indistinctly 
in polished lines, while the sexT,ts lay in such heavy 
gloom as to be scarcely visible. Frances im- 
agined she could see fantastic shadows peopling 
the dark galleries, and the fancy remained with 
her as the gaunt preacher arose and began his ad- 
dress, occasionally turning to the vacant seats 
above him as if he too could see visible faces in 
the dim darkness. 

The pungent smoke of the torches was blown 
by the veering night wind through the door by 
which the girl and her companion were sitting. 
Used as she was to seeing negroes about her, the 
strangeness of their own being the only white faces 
in the dimly lighted building, brought a curious 
feeling with it. The voice of the i:)reacher rose 
and fell in measured cadence as he dilated on the 
sudden passage of the chariot that took Bill away 
to the promised land, leaving the sorrowing 
mother alone. Long and eloquently did he speak 
with outstretched arms, and when exhausted by his 
efforts he paused, a big negro in front of Frances 


began a hymn in which one after another joined, 
accompanying the swelling chorus with a muffled 
stamping of feet and slow swaying of the body. 
Louder and more impassioned grew the singing 
until it seemed as if the roof would be riven by 
the volume of mournful sound; suddenly it 
ceased and a dull impassiveness settled down 
again on the dark faces. The preacher arose once 
more, and in a few brief sentences, whose calm- 
ness contrasted oddly with his former excitement, 
signified that the time had come to proceed to the 

The service was over. The men who had 
carried the coffin stepped forward to close the lid 
and paused a moment for old Milly, who had bent 
her head on the narrow box, to rise and allow 
them to go on with their duty. She did not stir, 
and the preacher gently touched her arm ; still 
she did not move and he took hold of her hand. 
The next moment he looked up with a startled air. 

" Bless the Lord ! he's dun taken Milly to 
glory, right yere an' now ! " 

An indefinable movement through the house 
told James that a rush would be made to see the 
old woman, if the excitement caused by this sud- 


den event was not controlled, and before the con- 
gregation could rise he had passed quickly up the 
aisle to the coffin. 

" Start a hymn, brother Zeb, and tell them to 
stay in their places," he said to the preacher, who 
with the prompt appreciation of his race, imme- 
diately complied, and the rising feeling was kept in 
check. James stood a moment in doubt as to 
what to do next. 

"'Can we bury them together?" he asked, 
speaking low to a strong negro standing by him. 

" I tink we can. Mars' Haydock," the man re- 
plied, " old Milly is putty small, an' dis box is on- 
common big ; I dunno who made it, but as tings 
hab 'curred, it is mighty lucky." 

" It seems to me the best thing to do," said 
James. " Tell your friends here to lift up the old 
creature gently," but he had no need to warn them ; 
tenderly they laid the tired old head beside that of 
her son, and Frances having followed James, 
lightly spread her white handkerchief over both 
the faces resting so close together. The negroes 
showed their approval of this arrangement by be- 
ginning a wild resurrection hymn which they sang 
as the coffin was closed and taken out. All the con- 
gregation followed, still singing. The torches Avere 


picked up and carried in the procession to the 
grave in a corner of the meeting-house yard, the 
cadence of the hymn still rising and falling as the 
people placed themselves as closely as possible 
around the new made grave. 

In the silence that then fell over the gather- 
ing, the preacher turned to James Haydock. 

" Won't you tell us a few words. Mars' James ? 
Do now." Taken by surprise, James hesitated a 
moment, but then stepped forward and un- 
covered head offered an earnest thanksgiving that 
the mother and son were together again, and a 
prayer that however sudden might be the call to 
another country, it might find them ready. The 
grave filled, the compau}'- silently dispersed in small 
groups, and taking their different ways homeward, 
extinguished their torches in the sand as they 
reached their various cabins. 

James locked the meeting house, and putting 
Frances on her pillion, rode home through a dark- 
ness that even the light of the southern stars 
illuminated but faintly. The wild grapes gave out 
a strong perfume in the damp air, and a few 
crickets chirped feebly along the road-side as though 
they knew the summer was over and the chill of 
the late autumn would soon be upon them. 



Slavery had been gradually eliminated from 
the Society of Friends. In 1784, several different 
Quarterly Meetings having reported that many 
still held slaves notwithstanding the advice and 
entreaties of their friends, the Yearly IMeeting di- 
rected that such offending members should be dis- 

Every effort was made to induce these mem- 
bers to see the sin in its true light, and a resort 
to the final measure of disownment was j^ut off as 
long as possible, so that it was not till 1818 that 
the Yearly Meeting was able to make, as the final 
result of their long wrestling with the evil, this 
brief record, " None held as slaves." This happy 
event occured a few months after the beginning of 
our story, and the following summer James Hay- 
dock married the maiden of his choice. We 
shall resume their history again as it grew eventful 
in 18G4, the fourth year of the civil war, when 

1S64. 87 

scarcity of men and means threw its deepest 
shadow over the South. 

This summer of 1864, in which we gather up 
the threads of our story, shows many a change in 
the Hves of James Haydock and his wife Frances. 
The early home of the maiden where she was 
wooed and won is her's no longer, for Jeremiah 
Allen has long since been laid under the thickly 
falling pine-needles which cushion almost to con- 
cealment the low mounds in the grave-yard near 
the meeting house. David and Rachel Haydock 
also sleep their last sleep in this ancient burying- 
ground, the date of which is almost identical with 
that of the settlement, for, as Hawthorne says, in 
those early times, provision was made in accord- 
ance with the needs of departed spirits, about as 
soon as that necessary for the living material body. 
James Haydock during his married life had visited 
and trafhcked in the North, and indeed had settled 
several children, now themselves married, in that 
busy and agressive part of our country ; and then, 
following the inclination of both himself and his 
wife, had returned to the old farm, so pleasant to 
both in their early associations. Their only un- 
married daughter Molly, a bright girl of twenty, 


and John, a boy of fifteen, so much younger than 
the rest as to be a great darhng, were still with 
them to cheer their old age. " Old age," however, 
could hardly be aj^plied to the pair standing on the 
porch this afternoon. Frances Hay dock leaned 
against one of the posts that was almost hidden by 
scarlet honeysuckle. Her wavy red-brown hair 
w^as thinner than in years past, but not much more 
in control than then, and the delicate rose tint still 
lingered freshly in her cheek. To-day, however, 
an expression of growing anxiety was on her face 
as she listened to the news that her husband was 
telling. He stood on the step below her, lifting his 
hat rather wearily from the dark hair now streaked 
with gray, and wiping his brow with his handker- 
chief. He had just returned from a walk to the 
mill. All their horses, but one very old one, had 
been seized for service by the Southern army in 
their various raids to and fro over the country, and 
the cows, with the exception of two young heifers, 
had been taken for food by the same rapacious 
hosts. Their neighbors were no better off than 
they in this respect, for their homes all lay in that 
part of the country so frequently fought over by 
the contending armies, and the inhabitants were 

1864. 89 

called on for supplies by both friend and foe. 
True to their belief that the teachings of Christ 
were for peace alone, and that His followers could 
take no part in the struggle then tearing asunder 
this fair country, no truly conyinced Friend, either 
in the North or South, had joined the army ; and 
we may say here, that as far as possible, both of 
the military goyernments proyided exceptional 
acts by which this people might adhere to their 
principles. In the summer of 1862, a Conscription 
act was passed in the Confederate Congress re- 
quiring eyery man between eighteen and thirty- 
fiye 3'ears of age to enter the army. In 1863 these 
limits were extended to eighteen and forty-five, 
and the next j^ear to fifty years, but at this date 
the scarcity of men in the Southern army was 
such that all able bodied men were drafted, no 
matter what might be their age, and James Hay- 
dock felt that he might be called on any day to 
render service to the government which he could 
not conscientiously perform. 

" They told me at the mill to-day, Frances, 
that the soldiers had been there, and because the 
Miller would not reveal the hiding place of his 
three sons, they hung him up three times almost 


to tlie point of strangulation. Josiah Barker, wha 
owns the mill, and lives close by, hearing the 
screams of the Miller's wife, came out and they 
seized him, asking him the same questions as they 
had asked the Miller." 

"Oh, what did he do?" asked Frances. 

"Stood his ground, thank God," replied her 
husband. " In fact he did not know where the 
boys were, and simply said so, but when the sol- 
diers put the rope round his neck and proceeded 
to tighten it over a beam in the barn, he did not 
flinch or beg for mercy. They told him the 
Quakers by keeping so many men out of the 
army were causing the defeat of the South, said 
he had but five minutes to live, and if he had any 
prayers to offer, to say them quickly." 

" What respect had they for prayers ?" queried 
Frances Haydock, slightly smiling, as her hus- 
band paused and set down on the step, leaning 
back among the shining green of the Lady 
Banksia rose, and looking up at her with glow- 
ing eyes. 

" Some traditionary reverence, doubtless ; 
Southerners are no more brutes than Northerners^ 
but they are driven into more desperate straits. 

1S64. 91 

just now, and war ever brings unreasoning cru- 
elty in its train, especially when homes are de- 
stroyed and families broken up. The North- 
erners know little of this in reality. Well, to go 
on, Barker said he was innocent, and had no more 
to say than ' Father, forgive them, for they know 
not what they do.' And I think our Father- 
stopped them, for they removed the rope from his 
neck and flung him on one side, telling him not 
to look up or he would be shot, and in truth so 
stunned was he, that looking up was impossible; 
he heard, as in a dream, the fellows hanging the 
poor Miller up until he was nearly strangled ; 
then they left the place, threatening to return, 
but our Master sent them in another direction, 
for they did not come back. The}^ found one of 
the missing conscripts, whom they hung till 

" Probably they think discipline must be 
maintained," Frances Haydock remarked. 

" Aye, but what discipline is enforced in the 
army is more than counterbalanced by the license 
flooding the country the moment that strict rule 
is relaxed," said her husband, " how much better 
the control taught by the Prince of Peace !" 


Merry voices were heard at this moment, 
and Molly and John appeared coming up the 
avenue. The pale gold of the sunset still shone 
through the far arch of overhanging live-oaks, 
and outlined the children's figures with clear dis- 
tinctness. John carried in his hand a pail half 
full of foaming milk. 

" Mother," he said as they neared the porch, 
" Molly and I have found such a beautiful j^lace 
for the heifers to sleep in, they will not miss the 
barn at all now." 

" They would hardly miss it at any rate this 
warm weather, my boy ? " said his father, smiling 
at the two as the}' sat down beside him. 

" No, I suppose not," answered John, " but 
thee knows that thick clump of alderbushes in 
the lower meadow ?" 

" Yes," said James Hay dock. 

"Well, there is an open space right in the 
middle of it, Molly and I cut off a few branches, 
twisted the rest in and out, and spread a lot of 
dead leaves over the ground, and the heifers went 
right in and lay down there. Close by the open- 
ing is a dead tree with a jessamine growing over 
it and hanging down, so every sign of an entrance 

1864. 93 

is hidden, and I think it would very much puz- 
zle the soldiers to find the cows. They may hunt 
the barn over now, we will keep our heifers." 

" It is quite a distance from the house," re- 
marked Molly, " and we must milk them early in 
morning and late in the evening or some one will 
see us." 

" It seems the only way to do," said Frances 
Haydock, " I trust no worse trouble is in store for 
us." A sigh followed these words, for a shadow 
of future evil seemed gathering over her. Several 
friends in the neighborhood had been drafted 
into the army quite lately, some of whom had no 
objection to paying the Exemption tax, and thus 
avoid engaging in bloodshed ; but two of them 
did not feel free to avail themselves of this way 
of escape and had gone with the soldiery, though 
refusing to bear arms. This refusal either to pay 
what the Exemption Act demanded, or to bear 
arms, excited much wrath among the soldiers 
with whom they had to deal, and very rough 
treatment w^as bestowed ujDon those courageous 
followers of Him whose teachings are to " Love 
your enemies, and pray for those who despitefully 
use you." No loss of life had, however, befallen 


those who steadfastly adhered to Christ's precepts, 
and their confidence was strengthened by such 
evidence of His protecting power. 

James Haydock did not believe in paying the 
Exemption tax, and his wife dreaded the possible 
attempt to force him to either give up his princi- 
ples or suffer for them. 

" Come Molly, we must put the milk away," 
said her mother. The girl lingered under the 
caressing hand of her father as he stroked the dark 
braids of hair in which Molly had twisted a sjoray 
of the yellow Southern jessamine. She had in- 
herited James Haydock's ebon hair and brows, 
but the large black eyes were very unlike his dark 
blue ones, and had a steadfastness in their depth 
derived from her grandfather rather than from 
her father's impetuous nature ; this imj)etuosity, 
however, was now steadied by strong principle 
and an earnest love for the Lord, his Master. 

" I will take it in, mother," said John, spring- 
ing up and lifting the pail. " Molly did nearly 
all the milking to-night." This child was like 
his mother ; he was merry, full of fun, always 
talking cheerfully, always fresh and sweet, like 
the little brook running through the cellar in 

j864. 95 

whose cool flow the milk was now soon deposited, 
the creamy liquid filling to the brim two shallow 
pans ; it was then left to gather an added rich- 
ness in the darkness and solitude of its under- 
ground habitation. Thus it is with some human 
<;haracters ; shut them away from the bustle and 
light of the outside world, and all that is best in 
their natures will be brought to the surface ; while, 
with others of this curiously mixed creation of 
ours, all possible sunshine and free air is needed 
to develop the sweetness and bloom so delightful 
to find in a work-a-day world. 

In giving an account of the experiences of 
Friends throughout the South during the civil war, 
■our story almost unavoidably assumes the cast of 
a religious controversy. And although it is as far as 
possible from our purpose to arouse any antagon- 
ism in the many truly earnest Christians who hold 
•different views from those maintained by the Quak- 
ers, we cannot but put these views, and the stead- 
fast trust with which they were carried out, in the 
strongest possible light. They were a vital matter 
with this people, and any trivial handling of the 
^subject would fail to give a true impression of the 
feeling existing among them. We rejoice in the 


clear light of to-day, after twenty -five years have 
been added to our national history, that many in 
all Christian denominations are beginning to see 
the wickedness of war, and to take their stand with 
the sect which has ever borne testimony against 
it, suffering almost unto the giving up of life, as 
many years before that time the Friends had also 
suffered indignity and hardship for their belief 
in the freedom of all mankind. 

The next morning a Confederate officer rode 
up to the Haydock's dwelling, and with a cour- 
teous bow handed a folded paper to Frances Hay- 
dock who came forward to ask what his errand 
might be. She took it with a sinking heart and 
carried it to her husband. He opened the paper 
and read it slowly, while his wife leaned over his 
shoulder and read likewise. It was an order to 
rej^ort at Richmond for military service, or else to 
pay the Exemption tax, before the next three 
days had passed. 

James Haydock leaned back and looked up 
at his wife ; her face was white, and a pleading 
look was in her soft brown eyes ; she stroked the 
wavy locks on his forehead with the same caress- 
ing touch as of yore. 

i8b4. 97 

" James, will thee not pay the tax and stay 
with us ? " she asked. 

" Would thee have me do so ? " he said, look- 
ing lovingly at her. 

" Many of our Friends have done so," she 

" I know, but what is thy own feeling about 
it ? " her husband persisted. 

" Oh James, I cannot let thee go," Frances 
exclaimed, coming round in front of her husband, 
wdio, rising, took her in his strong arms in a close 
embrace, which, while telling her how inexpress- 
ibly hard it would be to leave her, in some man- 
ner conveyed to her so clear an impression of the 
strength and power of the Master they both served 
that she was calmed and comforted. 

" I want us to see eye to eye in this matter, 
Frances, my wife," James Haydock said. 

" AVe always have, James," she replied, " and 
I will not fail thee now. But, oh, when will this 
horrible struggle be over and our country at peace 
once more ?" 

" In the Lord's own time, Frances. He never 
forsakes those who trust in Him, not one of our 

Friends have lost their lives." 



" No, but they have suffered. Oh, James, it 
is terrible. In three short days to have thee go to 
we know not where." 

" ' He is able to save, even unto the utter- 
most.' " 

Horses' hoofs on the sandy road outside at 
this moment attracted James Haydock's attention. 

" Frances, it is neighbor Gordon and his son 

" I cannot see them just now, James." 

" I will take care of them then and excuse 
thee for the present," said James Haydock going 
forward to welcome his guests with his usual quiet 
grace and dignity, while Frances entered her own 
room and shut herself into the presence of the 
Comforter to whom she was used to carry all her 
griefs and perplexities, 

Mr. Gordon, to whom we are now introduced, 
had moved with his family into Jeremiah Allen's 
old house some years before, and had formed a 
very warm friendship with the Haydocks. Rosco, 
their only son, had been educated at the North, 
but when the war broke out he had been forced 
to return from college just before he graduated. 
He was now twenty-two years old, and during 

1S64. m 

these two years at home he had formed a warm 
friendship with Molly Haydock, who, on her part 
much enjoyed the cultivated companionship of 
young Gordon. Carefully guided in her studies 
by her father, Molly had learned a good deal that 
is not usually included in a girl's education, 
although she had missed some of the lighter ac- 

Mr. Gordon had served a year in the Southern 
army, had been wounded, and was now unfit for 
further service. For some unknown reason Rosco 
was not as yet drafted, and his frequent associa- 
tion with James Haydock had so far convinced 
him of the evil of war, that he had never felt 
willing to volunteer his services to the army. 
With perhaps a keener observation than his father, 
Rosco Gordon j^erceived the shade that had fallen 
over the usually serene face of his host. 

" You are in trouble, Mr. Haydock ? " he 
asked respectfully. " Is any one ill ? " 

"No one, Rosco," James Haydock replied, 
" but trial has come to us in common with our 
neighbors and in three days I must go to Rich- 

" I am awfully sorry to hear this, Mr. Hay- 


dock," said the older Gordon. " Why don't you 
pay the Exemption tax and stay at home ? " 

" I cannot feel easy to do that," replied James 
Haydock, " although many of our Friends have, 
it seems to me like assisting in a strife that is al- 
together opposed to our Lord's teachings ? " 

" I do not see why you have to look at it in 
that way. Why the money goes for provision, for 
blankets, for tobacco, for quantities of things that 
don't hurt anybody, but do them good. Come 
here. Miss Molly, good-morning to you," as the 
girl entered the room, " your good father thinks 
he must leave you, and I want you to help me 
persuade him it is all nonsense." 

" You will not do that, I think," said Molly, 
gravely. She usually dropped the Friend's lan- 
guage of " thee " and " thou " when talking with 
members of other denominations. 

" You don't want him to go, do you. Miss 
Molly ? " pursued Mr. Gordon. 

" I would give all I have in the world to pre- 
vent it ! What shall we do without him ? " the 
girl exclaimed vehemently, raising her eyes to 
meet those of Rosco Gordon's fixed on her with 
earnest sympathy ; the bright sunshine lying on 

1864. 101 

the polished floor seemed to throw upward a gleam 
that kindled a glowing spark in the light hazel 
eye of the young man. 

" Can we do nothing to keep Mr. Haydock at 
home ? " he asked. 

" He shall not go," asseverated Moll3^ 

"The soldiers will take me I fear, Molly, 
wdiether I wish to go or not," said her father, ten- 
derly regarding her. 

" Oh, and what will they do to thee?" she 
-exclaimed in distress, rising and walking to the 
window. Rosco followed, but she could neither 
talk nor listen to his attempts at consolation, and 
after Mr. Gordon had urged James Haydock once 
more, to avail himself of the loop-hole offered by 
the Exemption Act, the visitors mounted their 
horses and rode away. Just before leaving, old 
Mr. Gordon whispered to Molly : 

"We will i^ay the tax for your father, my 
dear, and keep him here in spite of himself." 

" Thank you ; he would not allow it. You 
are very kind, but it is no use," Molly said sadly. 

Rosco looked back as long as he dared, only 
to see the girl's figure leaning against the pillar of 
the porch, her hand over her eyes. 




Sad and dreary were the days that followed. 
Frances was busy looking over her husband's 
clothing, preparing for an absence of she knew 
not how long duration. These preparations 
were much more scanty than they would have 
been two years before. Two years of separation 
from their best source of supply, the northern 
cities, two years of desolated crops and ravaged 
stock yards, had left but little to live upon, and 
although James had invested funds in the north, 
at present they were unavailable. 

Frances Haydock had always kept a good 
stock of linen on hand, but constant appeals from 
needy neighbors had rapidly reduced this supply. 
The old spinning wheel was put into requisition 
again, and both mother and daughter spent many 
an hour in spinning the cotton they were fortu- 
nately still able to procure. 

Molly knew of an old chest in the loft, full of 


moth-eaten and faded garments of worsted and silk 
brocade ; man}" a time as a chiid she had looked 
over the ancient costumes, and now they fre- 
C[iiently suggested themselves to her mind as a last 
resource should all other supplies fail. James 
Haydock occupies himself in making every ar- 
rangment for his wife's comfort while he should be 
away, and told John how to provide wood for the 
winter, and gather in what crops they might be 
able to save. He said but little of a prolonged 
absence to Frances, for she constantly expressed 
a hope that the end of the war might not be far 
distant and then their troubles would be ended ; 
at least this worst trouble of all, separation from 
one another. Very tender was his manner toward 
his wife during these three days. Molly was rest- 
lessly bent on relieving her mother of all work 
that might keep her from her husband's side, and 
her father cast many a loving look at her as she 
silently went about the house and garden. 

" I cannot help it, father dear," the girl said 
one day as he laid his hand on her shoulder, 
" thee must let me control my feelings as best I can. 
It is like death to have thee go away, and worse 
than death to think of what thee must suffer." 


James Haydock put his arm around her and 
she sobbed on his shoulder. 

" Thee will be thy mother's great deiDendence, 
Molly. John is but young and boyish, though he 
■does his best ; I thank God daily for my daughter 
Molly." The girl raised her head and looked up 
at him steadily ; there always had been between 
them a peculiar bond of love and confidence. 

" I will do all I can to cheer mother," she 
said simply, " now I must go for the milk," and 
the bright young maiden, anxious to hide her sor- 
row, ran out to seek the cows in their distant pas- 
ture. The two heifers came to meet her and 
greeted her lovingly, as she crept through the bro- 
ken fence. John had not put up any bars, lest the 
signs of care should attract the marauder's eyes, 
and cause him to search in that lonely spot for 
things worth hiding. The rich thick grass sent 
up a damp pleasant smell, the crickets chirped 
softly, creeping forth from their shady houses, 
night was their time to enjoy themselves and hold 
communion with the little stars just beginning to 
twinkle faintly, but cheerily in the darkening 
sky. The cow's warm breath, sweet with feeding 
on the leaves and twigs of the spice-wood, mingled 

GOOD BYE. 105 

witli the cool air and enveloped Molly as she 
milked ; the profound repose of the place rested 
and quieted her. 

After milking was over, as she drove the heif- 
ers to the sheltering clump of alder bushes and 
stooped to j)ick a branch of the odorous jesamine, 
two huge bats, black and ugly as only southern 
bats are, flew suddenly out from the dead tree, al- 
most brushing Molly's face with their wings, 
and flapped noiselessly about her head ; she 
screamed slightly and taking up her pailful of 
milk, hurridly sped toward the fence. She was 
startled to see the figure of a man standing by the 
opening she had come through ; for a moment her 
heart stood still, but the next instant she recog- 
nized Rosco Gordon and the feeling of relief was so 
great that she leaned her head against a mossy 
post and burst into tears. 

" Miss Haydock, INIolly," the young man ex- 
claimed in dismay, "have I startled you? What 
is the matter ? " 

" Nothing, except I am so glad it is you and 
nobody else. I thought it was a soldier, and, oh, 
I am not myself just now ; I was frightened." 

Molly dried her eyes and crept through the 


fence, resigning the milk-pail into Rosco's hands. 

" Do you think it is safe for you to come here 
so late alone ? " asked the youth. 

" It is safe for the cows," replied Molly, smil- 
ing a little ; the reaction from her fright overcom- 
ing other feelings for the moment. 

" Doubtless, but you are of more importance 
than the cows," he rejoined. 

" I do not know that I am. I can do so little, 
My consequence has dwindled very much lately 
in my own eyes." 

"But not in the eyes of others, perhaps," 
Rosco replied. " At any rate let me either milk 
the cows in the future, or come with you ; there 
are too many soldiers and runaways now lurking 
round the country for you to be alone so far from 
the house." 

" John usually comes with me, but he was 
busy with something else to-night. Will you come 
in ? " she asked as they neared the house. 

" Not now, thank you. What time does Mr. 
Haydock leave to-morrow ? " 

" Oh, I don't know, don't ask me," Molly ex- 
claimed, all her misery returning with overwhelm- 
ing force. 

GOOD BYE. 107 

" Do forgive me, I did not mean to recall your 
trouble ; I was very thoughtless." 

" No matter ; it must come soon. Good-night !" 
The girl forgot to thank him for bringing her 
home, and left the milk in his hands as she hastily 
sought the shelter of the house. He hesitated a 
moment, and then gave the milk to John, who 
was at the door, bringing in wood for the morning 

" Halloo, did you milk the cows ? AYhere is 
Molly ?" ejaculated the boy. 

" In the house. Good-night," said Rosco, de- 
parting into the rapidly gathering darkness. 

" Very queer of Molly," soliloquised John as 
he carried in the milk. " If Gordon begins milk- 
ing the cows, I wonder what he will do next ?" 

The following morning as the early dew dried 
away from the grass, and the hands of the old- 
fashioned clock ticked their deliberate progress to- 
ward noon, a band of gray-clad soldiers appeared 
coming up the avenue leading to the Haydock 
homestead ; they halted at the porch and one of 
them, seemingly the captain, dismounted and 
went up the stej^s, bringing dismay to the hearts 
of Frances Haydock and her daughter. A knock, 


neither gentle nor hesitating, was' answered by 
James Haydock himself. 

" You're Mr. Haydock, I take it?" said the sol- 
dier, bowing with some politeness of manner as 
the tall dignified figure confronted him. 

" That is my name," was the reply. 

" Well, sir, I'm sorry to say it, but you must 
shoulder your musket and come with us to Rich- 
mond at once. We have a horse ready for you." 

" I will accompany thee, but I can neither 
take arms nor engage in army service," said 
James Haydock. 

'' I suppose you're a Quaker," said the Con- 
federate officer. " Well, you'll just have to put 
your objections in your pocket now, and join the 
service like every other decent man has to. Here 
is your horse, sir. Have you any traps ?" 

Frances Haydock brought out the small 
bundle she had prepared for her husband ; there 
was no emotion that threatened to overcome her 
just now, but a wonderfully calm and uplifted 
feeling. It had been with her since their morn- 
ing waiting before the Lord, when they had given 
themselves to His all powerful protection, and felt 
His almost visible presence. 

GOOD BYE. 109 

" Tom, bring up that horse ; now, sir, here's 
yonr musket ; take it if you please." 

James Haydock mounted the horse, but the 
m^isket remained untouched. 

" Why don't you take it ?" exclamed the cap- 
tain. '' Come, we have no time to waste. Don't 
you mean to shoulder it? Remember you are 
under orders now." 

" I am under orders, but of a higher captain 
than this world generally acknowledges. He tells 
me not to shed blood, and I cannot disobey His 

"All confounded nonsense," impatiently re- 
sponded the captain. " Still, I am mighty sorry 
for you all," he said looking at the family grouped 
in silence on the piazza, Molly's arm around her 
mother's waist, who, however, hardly looked as if 
she needed support, but would rather impart 
strength to others. John's blue eyes flashed, and 
he grasped the hatchet with which he had just 
been cutting wood with a clutch indicating he 
would like to use it on different material than 
cedar and light pine. 

" Can't you pay the Exemption fee and stay at 
home ?" asked the officer. " I'll take that gladly." 


" Thanks for the willingness, but I do not feel 
easy to do it ; it all comes to the same thing," was 
the response. 

" I don't see that ; but if you won't jDay, just 
take your musket and come along." 

Still the musket was not accepted. For a 
moment the captain looked bewildered ; then he 
burst forth with an oath, " Do you dare to defy 
me? Don't you know I'm here to be obeyed? 
Tom, take that musket and tie it across the saint's 
back ; tight, mind 3"0U." 

This order was obeyed. Molly's eyes grew 
indignant as she saw her father wince involun- 
tarily under the rough handling and the tight 
twist of the rope, but he said nothing and sat on 
the horse looking calmly, rather sorrowfully, at 
the officer, who regarded him angrily ; seeing he 
made no resistance, however, the angry look 
.slowly gave place to a jDuzzled one, then he sjDoke. 

" Tom, you may take that gun off and tie it 
on the horse. Til leave the authorities at Rich- 
mond to deal with him. They will not be so easy 
with you as I am, confound you," his anger rising 
again, as he shook his horse's reins, " forward, we 
have wasted time enough here." 


Frances had come near to her husband ; he 
bent toward her with a smile. 

" Frances, He has shut the Hon's mouth this 

" Yes, and He will do it again, James. He 
will be with thee and with us," was her reply, and 
then the horse and rider moved in line with the 
others, and following the command of the leader, 
passed out of sight down the sandy road. 

" Molly, I will go to my room for a little 
while," said Frances Haydock when the last sound 
of the trampling hoofs had died away. " Call me 
if thee wants me." 

" Go, mother dear," said Molly. " I will see to 
dinner ; though its little eating we shall do to-day, 
I fancy," she added under her breath, then turn- 
ing suddenly away, 

" Oh, father, father, why could not I take this 
in thy place ? " She sat down on the porch stej), 
and with her hands covering her face remained 
motionless a long while. 

"Molly, I have made the fire up, and maybe 
mother would eat an egg or something; let's ask 
her." said John, quietly touching his sister's shoul- 
der. She looked up. 


" John, thee is worth twice as much as I am.. 
Mother ought to eat something. I will go and ask 
her. After all the war must end soon, every one 
says so, and father will be taken care of," and 
Molly jumped up, hope sj)reading its brightness 
again over her young face, and renewing the cour- 
age that in young and energetic natures is never 
long absent. l^Iolly was both sanguine and stead- 
fast, though her intense, almost tragic way of look- 
ing at life made her less lively than her brother 
John, who had inherited more of his mother's 
buoyant temperament. 

In the evening Mr. Gordon and his son rode 
over to see the Haydocks. 

" We were just coming here this morning 
when we met the soldiers, Mrs. Haydock, and we 
thought you would rather be alone a while," said 
Mr. Gordon. " We'll have your husband home 
again soon and not a hair of his head touched. 
There are ways of getting him back. I am going 
to Richmond myself to-morrow; but I'll say no 
more now. Keep a good heart, madam. Things- 
will be all right." 

" I am very sure of that," replied Frances, a 
faint smile passing over her pale face. 

IN CAMP. ns- 



Long and weaiy for James Haydock was the 
journey to Richmond. At first the soldiers taunted 
and annoyed him in every possible way, but the 
gentleness with which this treatment was received 
and the various little hel^^ful actions i^erformed by 
him whenever opportunity offered, at last won the 
tolerance, if not the regard, of his companions ; 
and when he went with the captain to report at 
Richmond to the authorities who were to decide 
into which regiment he was to be detailed, there 
was no attempt made to prejudice the officers 
against him; in fact, another offer was made, 
even urged upon him, of obtaining immunity 
from service by paying the Exemption tax. This 
was, however, distinctly refused and the officer in 

authority ordered him to be placed in the 

regiment and sent to Petersburg, Virginia. It 
was at this place that the mining and countermin- 
ing of the Northern and Southern forces ended 



later in a scene of such awful destruction that the 
name of Fort Hell was given to one of the fortifi- 

" IVIay I send a letter home to my family ? " 
he asked, as, hand-cuflPed for disobedience to the 
order to carry arms, he was led from the dingy 
little office where he had been undergoing exam- 

" There is no objection, if you can get anyone 
to write and carry it for you ; you will remain 
hand-cuffed till further orders, unless you agree to 
do your part as an honest man should," was the 
rather surly reply. 

" I will write it for you," said one of the sol- 
diers who had accompanied him to Richmond, 
" but I don't know who will carry it." 

"Whar yere frum, Massa?" asked a young 
negro boy who had been leaning against the door 
of the recruiting office while the examination was 
going on, and who now approached James Hay- 
dock's side. The information asked for having 
been given, he pondered a moment or two, and 
then said, speaking low : 

" I reckon I kin get it tuk fo' yere if yere 
won't make no mention of it to ony pussun. 

IN CAMP. 115 

Reckon some folks be agoin' tro' dat way sum 
time, but cley won't want iiothin' said 'bout it, no- 
how." So in the station from which James Hay- 
dock was to take the train to Petersburg, a few 
dictated lines were written and given to the negro 
boy, to be sent by unknown hands to the dear 
ones at home. 

Although more than a year had now passed 
since the slaves had been proclaimed free, many 
of them were still coming from the far South and 
passing the lines of the contending armies with 
more or less difficulty, according to the part of the 
country they travelled through. Sometimes they 
were detained and questioned, and sometimes 
they were not, but allowed to go almost as un- 
heeded as dusky birds of passage. Wherever 
they went, however, the Quakers befriended them, 
and anyone who wore the distinctive dress of this 
sect claimed gratitude from the negro. Thus it 
was that James Haydock was enabled to send 
back to his family news of himself, that could 
hardly have been taken in any other manner. 

The journey in the crowded uncomfortable 
cars, wherein few seats were allowed, and those 
only plain benches without backs, was soon over, 


and the soldiers marched to an encampment from 
whence the distant lines of the Northern army 
could be seen. No engagement was anticipated 
for two or three days, as the attacking force was 
supposed to be small, and Petersburg with its 
fresh reinforcements was fairly well protected. 

The repeated and steady refusal of James 
Hay dock to join the daily drill had so exaspera- 
ted his officers that orders were issued to place 
him in the front ranks, should a battle take place, 
and let him be shot down as a punishment for 
insubordination. The colonel of the regiment, 
however, being really a man of kindly disposi- 
tion, felt inclined to make another effort to bring 
" Haydock to his senses," as he expressed it. On 
the evening of the second day in camp, he left his 
tent and sauntered down to where the soldiers 
were lounging round the camp-fires. James Hay- 
dock was sitting a little apart, leaning against a 
large oak tree. The lovely hills encircling the 
city were growing more shadowy as the evening 
glow faded, and a blue haze crept up from the 
valley; a few stars were visible and nature at 
least was peaceful and calm. James Haydock 
held his Bible loosely in his hand, (they had un- 

IN CAMP. 117 

fettered him, seeing liis quiet behavior) and his 
eyes \v:ere fixed steadily on tlie far off mountains 
whose repose was so absolute. 

" Good-evening, Haydock," said Colonel Pres- 
ton, " don't you think you had better throw that 
book away and fight your own way through like 
a man ? Don't get up ; I want to talk to you." 

'•' I think this book is more likely to help than 
to hinder me in the fight I am making," replied 
James Haydock, smiling as he made room on his 
blanket for Colonel Preston to find a place beside 

" Do you really think your Lord is going to 
protect you when the battle comes on ?" 

" I have never known a case where our Mas- 
ter failed His believing children," was the ready 

" Pshaw ; do you know you are to be put in 
the front ranks and be made a mark for the first 

"Somebody will have to go into the front 
ranks, and I would rather trust to God's protec- 
tion in such a situation than to one musket among 
several hundreds. Christ has said that they that 
trust in Him need never be afraid ; surely He can 


save now from death as well as eighteen hundred 
years ago." 

" I don't know much about your God ; but I 
know that nothing short of a miracle can save 
you in a battle, if unarmed." 

" I quite believe that." 

" Surely you are not such a fool as to believe 
in miracles, are you ?" 

" May I ask thee another question before I 
answer ?" queried James Haydock. 

" Certainly, I have nothing to do just now 
and am very willing to hear you talk," said Col- 
onel Preston, settling himself comfortably against 
the oak tree. Several of the younger officers, see- 
ing their colonel address James Haydock, had 
drawn near, and were now standing around the 
principal speakers. 

Many were the discussions indulged in dur- 
ing these idle waiting hours, and very often the 
subjects pitched upon were of a serious nature ; a 
fact that perhaps might be accounted for by the 
nearness to danger, and the knowledge that 
twenty-four hours or less might bring the next 
world very close to some of them. 

" Ask wdiat you please, I don't say I will al- 
ways answer, however," the colonel went on. 

IN CAMP. 119 

" Does thee believe the Bible ?" asked James 

"Oh, yes, in a way; some parts of it; I 
doubt its inspiration, but its moral teaching is 
certainly good. I read lately a paper by a 
Unitarian clergyman, of Boston, in which he 
said, ' The Bible is a book of many mistakes, but 
we do not mind them,' I think that is about my 

"'A book of many mistakes,'" repeated 
James Haydock, rather slowly, " and thee is will- 
ins: to trust thy knowledge of a future life to a 
book that has many mistakes ? I do not think I 
would take such a book as a guide in questions of 
law or medicine, still less for life. But granting 
thy position that parts are true, does thee believe 
that there is a God, or Creator of the world ? " 

" Yes, I believe there is a God, though nature 
is good enough for me," said Colonel Preston, an- 
swering the note of interrogation, " but miracles 
do not happen ; that is exploded long ago." 

" They do not happen, I admit, they are al- 
ways the intentional direct action of a Supreme 
power, which has an end in view. Why does thee 
not believe in them ? " 


" Because they are contraiy to nature." 

" Can any one give the dictionary meaning of 
a miracle ? " asked James Haydock. 

Tlie cliaplain of the regiment, who was 
stretched out on the ground near the colonel's 
feet, pulled a little dictionary out of his breast 
pocket and read slowly by the fading light : 

" Miracle, an event or effect contrar}^ to the 
established course of things; a deviation from the 
known laws of nature." 

He replaced the volume in his pocket. James 
Haydock spoke. 

" Miracles are not to be believed in because 
they are exactly what they are defined to be." A 
suppressed laugh went round the circle of listeners 
and Colonel Preston looked foolish. 

" How do you know such a thing as a miracle 
ever existed?" he retorted, pulling himself to- 
gether again. 

" Can we define a thing that never existed ? " 

" Things often exist simply in the imagina- 
tion ; any one knows that." 

"A combination of things or circumstances is 
often conjured up by the imagination; but to 
carry the question back a little further, can you 

IN CAMP. 121 

€ven imagine anything that absolutely never was 
seen or heard of? " 

" I don't suppose you could, unless it was 
suggested to man by an intelligence superior to 
his own, a mind knowing something he did not," 
replied the colonel. He was beginning to be 
interested ; for he was an educated man, and liked 
to meet an op^Donent worth arguing with, as he 
now recognized this Quaker to be. 

" Ah, thee has touched the idea of revelation, 
a wide subject," said James Haydock. 

" But to return to miracles ;" said Colonel 
Preston, " why should the supreme intelligence 
that made the laws of nature, erratically suspend 
them? It would bring everything into confusion." 

" That is the old theologian's idea, and incor- 
rect, I think. Have we any proof that they are 
suspended? Does a bird when he flies upward 
suspend the laws of gravitation ? I think he 
simply exerts a power that is superior, and over- 
comes it." 

" I see your point, Mr. Haydock," said the 
colonel. " You think the ordinary forces are 
overcome by extraordinary ones." 

" I would like to see a miracle," said one of 


the younger officers. " Then one might believe 
in them." 

" Exactly," responded James Haydock smil- 
ing, " and every generation would require a mira- 
cle to be performed for its belief, till raising of the 
dead and opening the eyes of the blind would be- 
come so common as to be no miracle at all. The 
next generation would no more believe j^our re- 
cord than you believe the ancient testimony." 

" Hume says," remarked a thoughtful-look- 
ing, keen-eyed man, sitting on a knapsack near 
by, " that ' a miracle supported by any human tes- 
timony is more a subject of derision than of argu- 
ment.' " 

" ' Human testimony,' " muttered the chap- 
lain under his breath, " would he admit superhu- 
man, I wonder? Hume himself says he never 
read the New Testament through." 

" He also says," replied James Haydock, " ' I 
own that there may possibly be miracles of such 
a kind as to admit of prools from human testi- 
mony,' and then tries to do away with his own 
admissions by saying, ' but should such a miracle 
be ascribed to a new system of religion, men of 
all ages have been so imposed on by ridiculous 

IN CAMP. 123 

stories of that kind that this very circumstance 
would be full proof of the cheat.' " 

" You have a very good memory, Mr. Hay- 
dock," said the colonel, a little sarcastically. 

" I think we usually remember what we are 
interested in," was the reply. 

" Other religions than Christ's have claimed 
miracles ; Mohammed for instance," suggested the 

" Miracles have been claimed jor them ; Mo- 
hammed claimed none, nor were any ever sho^Ti 
publicly; his night-visions were known only to 
himself; his followers would not swear to them. 
Christ's miracles were done openly, not ' in a cor- 
ner' but before thousands. The religion He 
preached was inaugurated by miracles, and God 
bore him ' witness both with signs and wonders 
and divers miracles.' It is one thing to challenge 
an unbeliever to try a religion by its miracles, and 
quite another to ask a believer to accept them as 
part of a system in which he already believes, as 
is the case with Mohammed. Oh, my friends, if 
you all would accept Christ's religion ! " The grave 
face of the speaker had grown wonderfully earnest. 

" I consider^ Mr. Haydock," said a soldier who 


had not spoken before, " that the Bible is not divine, 
but is really the best outcome of humanity." 

" How then can the fact be accounted for that 
it came out at a very poor time of civilization ? " 
was the answer, upon which the soldier concluded 
to go and attend to the camp fire, which seemed to 
need more wood. 

" You don't answer my idea about the stop- 
ping, or rather interfering with nature's laws, Mr. 
Haydock," said Colonel Preston, who had been 
silent some time. 

" May I illustrate ? " asked James Haydock, 
" There is a system of water-works now in opera- 
tion which is so arranged that the demand regu- 
lates the suj^ply ; according to the rapidity of the 
discharge at the cock is the rapidity with which 
the pumping-engine works. Then when a fire in 
the town subjects the apparatus to a very unusual 
tax, a signal in the engine-room, acting automat- 
ically, causes the engineer to gear on the reserve 
power always ready for use and so even in an emer- 
gency there is a provision for ample supply. 
Could not a Supreme power, which we must credit 
with intelligence, exert a reserve power and yet 
infringe none of nature's laws ? Modern science 

IX CAMP. 125 

limits God's power to the laws displayed in. nature 
and then asserts that He violates His own laws by 
miracle. I deny both positions, and fully believe 
that a miracle is not a violation of law, but is 
only such interference with the established course 
of things as infallibly shows us the presence of a 
superior power." 

" Such things as miracles are contrary to my 
experience, and I don't propose to believe in 
them," remarked a slim young lieutenant, lazily 
knocking the ashes out of his pipe. 

"So the African said when an Englishman, 
told him he had seen water solid enough to w^alk 
on," retorted the keen-eyed man of whom we have 
before spoken, then turning to James Haydock, 
he asked respectfully, 

"Admitting miracles, and, if human testi- 
mony in both good c[uantity and quality is to be 
taken on this point as it is taken on every other 
subject in the world, we must admit them, why 
do you think the Saviour performed them ? Could 
not His religion and teachings have been estab- 
lished without the miraculous?" 

" I suppose it could, and yet as God selected 
this way of indicating the Divine authority of His 


messenger, we must suppose it to be the best way 
of showing God's power. Had this New Testa- 
ment, in which many of the Old Testament or 
Mosaic laws were done away with (as for instance 
' an eye for an eye '), being replaced by the law of 
love and ' resist not evil,' — had the New Testa- 
ment been sent by simply natural means, the ac- 
ceptance of it would probably have been far less 
complete. God appealed to the natural senses, 
sight, hearing, touch, showing what His power 
could accomplish in the physical or natural world, 
in order to induce confidence in the spiritual 
realms where one can only follow by faith. What 
other stronger proof of His power can you sug- 

" I do not know ; all nature is full of wonders, 
and yet they do not seem to impress us with any 
special belief in God." 

" True enough ; they are so common that we 
get used to them ; the mind needs to be startled 
to be impressed ; we need something out of the 
established order of things to quicken our percep- 

" We shall see something out of the estab- 
lished course of thing if you come out scot-free in 

IN CAMP. 1-27 

the next battle. It will fix the fate <A a lot of us. 
I wish you all success and safety in your faith, Mr. 
Haydock," said the slim young officer to whose 
experience miracles were contrary, " it seems all 
foolishness to me." 

" I know — ' to the Greek, foolishness ; to the 
Jews, a stumbling block ' — but unto them which 
are called, Christ the power of God. ' I know 
whom I have believed,' ' and as we are ambassadors 
for Christ as though God did beseech you by 
us, we pray you in Christ's stead be ye reconciled 
to God.' " In his earnestness, James Haydock had 
risen and was standing with bared head under 
the wide-spreading oak branches, whose leaves 
were slightly moved by the night wind ; the num- 
berless tents of the regiment lay quietly, dimly 
outlined by the uncertain light of the camp fires 
whose smoke curled up and disappeared in the 
cloudy darkness overhead ; no stars were now vis- 
ible ; most of the soldiers had turned in for the 
night, and the group around the speaker remained 
silent as he continued with uplifted face, 

" ' Who shall separate us from the love of 
Christ ?' ' Neither death nor life, nor angels, nor 
powers, nor things present, nor things to come.' 


' Nay, in all these things we are more than con- 
querors through Him that loved us.' " 

He stopj)ed, and as with one accord the lis- 
tening group rose and stood a moment before him 
without sj)eaking, the chaplain almost involun- 
tarily raised both hands and j^ronounced a bene- 
diction over the uncovered heads, then turned 
and sought his tent, followed by the other men ; 
the Colonel silently shook hands with James Hay- 
dock, and left him standing under the tree, where 
he lingered a moment listening to the strains of a 
negro hymn that floated to him from a far off 
corner of the camp. 

"My Lord, what a morning, 
My Lord, what a morning, 
My Lord, what a morning, 

When the stars begin to fall." 




" Mother, the corn-meal is nearly gone. We 
gave some yesterday to poor Martha Eoyal, and 
there is just enough for ourselves for another day," 
said Molly, coming out of the big store closet into 
the living room where Frances Haydock sat spin- 

" Well, John must take the rest of the corn 
to mill to-day on old Dick ; it is too heavy for him 
to carry, and then, — there is no prospect of any 
more to send," her mother said looking up at 
Molly, but not seeming discouraged. 

" No, the last set of soldiers who went through 
here took what corn they did not ride down, for 
fodder for their own horses. There are lots of 
potatoes though, and John had just planted peas 
for a late crop ; the hard work is developing him 
finely," said Molly with a little laugh. What a 
happy arrangement it is that sorrow seldom staj'^s 
persistently with the young ! It comes and goes, 



and though the " coming " is often overwhelm- 
ing and seems endless for the time, the " going " 
is as certain to follow as the sunrise is to follow 
the sunset; and so it was that Frances Haydock 
was constantly cheered by her children's merry 
ways, and herself joined with all the brightness 
possible in their daily occupations. Her trust in 
God kept her calm and restful, though much of 
her old light-heartedness had vanished in the ab- 
sence of her husband. 

The few penciled lines that he sent telling of 
his welfare, and saying that he was probably 
going to Petersburg, had been left by an old col- 
ored man nearly two weeks after the date of his 
letter. Molly, to whom the messenger handed it, 
left her work of training the vines on the porch 
and urged him to come in and rest awhile. 

" No, honey " he said, " my people air on de 
way to see Mars Lincoln, and ef Jerry gits behin' 
no one will eber look out fo' him. It's mighty 
few 'lations I still has, but I want's to go along 
wid dem ; dey know de way, an' it's only 'cause 
one of yere people was once mighty good to me 
dat I 'commodated yere by bringin' dese few 


" It was very, very good of you to stop ; do 
take a bit of corn bread anyhow," and Molly ran 
into the house and made up a parcel of hoe cake 
for the old man. 

"T'ank yere kin'ly, Misse, sech onexpected 
helps cum in mighty well. My little gran'son 
I'se carryin' wid me, was wailin' fo' sum dis berry 
day. I reckon he gits tired." 

" Where are you going, uncle ? " asked Molly. 

" De good Lord knows, Misse, I don't ; dey is 
jess totin' me 'long 'cause I wouldn't stop behin'. 
Good evenin', honey." 

This was now several days ago, and they 
heard vague rumors of an engagement that had 
taken place at Petersburg, but no definite news of 
it had yet reached their ears. 

" I'll tell John about the corn," said ]\Iolly, 
going out toward the barn ; she saw her brother 
standing in the open door holding a big hen by 
the legs ; the creature was screaming wildly. 

" Molly, this hen does nothing but cluck ; she 
never lays any eggs, I think I'll kill her." 

" Well, she would make a good stew," respond- 
ed Molly. "She is doing something more than 
cluck now, however." 


" I wish we could stop the heus clucking any- 
how ; they make such a lot of noise they'll bring 
the soldiers dowai on us all, and then no more 

" Or eggs," said Molly. " I don't see though 
how we can stop the clucking. We can shut the 
hen-house up at night and let them roost any- 
w^here ; they are not as easily found by the tramps 

" No, but the w^ild-cats and the foxes w^ould 
have a jolly time." 

" John, do you know that cellar under the 
barn ? No one would ever know it was there, 
especially if we put brush over the entrance. We 
could put perches up for the chickens and drive 
them in every night." 

" All right. What about the old horse ? Put 
him in too ? " asked John. 

" I doubt if even the soldiers would want 
him." At this instant the hen who had stoj)ped 
screaming and w^as w^atching John sideways wdth 
a cocked-up head, kicked herself free from his re- 
laxed grasp and flew through the barn door uj) 
into the nearly empty hay-mow, scattering feathers 
in her flight over Molly's head. 


" There goes our stew." 

" Never mind, I'll shoot her when we w^ant 
her, it is too hard work running her down. I 
w^onder what we shall do for hay next winter if 
father is not back ? " remarked John, changing the 
subject and a little ruefully regarding the scantily 
filled mow. 

" I could help rake the grass if it was cut," 
said ]\Iolly. 

" I'll try what I can do ; but its mighty hard 
not being able to get any helj:)." 

" There are people a good deal worse off than 
we are, John. Will thee take the corn now or 
after dinner ? " 

"After dinner," said the boy, going into the 
stable to feed old Dick, " think he'll carry me and 
the corn too ? " he looked sceptically at Dick's 
shaky knees and lean sides ; the poor animal was 
only fed on hay and grass now, no corn being al- 
lowed him from their scanty store. 

After dinner as Molly was- spinning, crossing 
and re-crossing the room, singing the while, Rosco 
Gordon ran up the porch steps and entered the 
large room ; Molly greeted him with a smile, but 
did not stop her work. 


" Always busy, Miss Haydock ? " he said. " It 
makes me feel how lazy I am, to look at you." 

" Is your hay all in ? " she asked. " Do sit 
down, you need not stand because I do, and I 
know you were at the hay all the morning ; John 
said so." 

" So we were ; we can hire no help and the 
work must be done. Is John here ? " 

" He has taken some corn to the mill to be 
ground. Mother is lying down ; she does not 
sleep very well at night just now and takes a rest 
in the day." 

" When did John go ? " asked Rosco. 

" More than an hour ago. Why ? " replied 
Molly, startled a little by the tone of anxiety in 
Rosco's question. 

" Of course he must wait till the corn is 
ground ; he could not return promptly. There is 
a company of soldiers about hunting recruits and 
he is a well-grown fellow for his age. I think I'll 
ride over that way, they may give him trouble ; 
the mill is a great place for people to stop." 

" Do you really think there is any danger ? " 
asked Molly, following the young man as he rose 
and went out to untie his horse. 


" I scarcely can believe so, but tliere is no 
harm in going over. I did not mean to pay you 
so short a call," he added smiling. 

" Will you not come back again ? " the girl 

" I will certainly, and be only too glad to," he 
replied, mounting his horse and urging him to a 

Molly went back to her spinning wheel fear- 
ing she hardly knew what, but pacing steadily 
back and forth over the smooth floor as if the 
regular motion was a relief to her troubled 
thoughts. Presently the door of her mother's 
room opened; Frances Haydock came out and 
going to her husband's desk seated herself before 
it, making rather an anxious search through its 

" Molly," she said, taking up an old pocket- 
book, " father kept all his money in here, did he 


" I think so, mother," Molly replied. 

" There are but a hundred dollars left, then," 
said her mother, looking into every division of the 

" Well, mother dearie, what do we want with 


the money? There is nothing to buy, and we 
have food enough and clothes enough, and fuel 
enough in the big swamp anyhow, and lights in 
the pine knots if the candles give out as the oil 
has," was the cheery response. 

" The candles are not very plentiful now," 
said her mother, " and food may become scarce. 
But the war must end soon. We are much favored 
to keep well and comfortable." 

" When this cruel war is over," sang Molly, 
" Oh yes, we will do beautifully ; in hot weather 
one doesn't want much to eat, and there are lots 
of ducks and squirrels in the swamp for autumn." 

" John is very good with his gun," said Fran- 
ces Haydock. " I wonder he has not returned yet. 
It is surely time for him to come." 

"Ducks are a legitimate use for guns," re- 
marked Molly, desirous to keep her mother's 
thoughts from John just now. "Here comes a 
horse, I think," and she went to the door followed 
by her mother. 

" There are two, Molly ; oh ! what is the mat- 
ter, Mr. Gordon is bringing John home before him 
on his horse and Rosco is on the other." 

" I'm all right, mother," shouted the cheery 


voice of her son, " only Mr. Gordon would not let 
me walk home. Rosco has the meal." 

" Where is old Dick, John," asked his sister, 
much relieved to see the boy jump lightly from the 
horse as Mr. Gordon stopped in front of the porch. 

" The rascals seized him for a baggage-mule, 
and said they would knock him on the head if he 
was no use," exclaimed John, clenching his hands 
as he looked at his mother; she turned to Mr. 

" It was lucky I was riding by, Mrs. Haydock ; 
a company of recruiting officers were there, and 
having found but few men were in a bad humor. 
They came up just as John was coming out with 
the meal, and one man laid hands on the horse." 
" I told 'em he was no good for their use," inter- 
rupted the bo}^ 

" And that provoked them ; and they said 
they would take the horse and boy too, he being 
such an able-bodied fellow," said Mr. Gordon. 

" And I said I was a Quaker and wouldn't 
fight," said John. 

" Oh, John, John," exclaimed his mother. 

" Why didn't thee keep quiet, John," said 
Molly, a half smile on her lips. 


" Of course that was the finishing toueli," 
continued Mr. Gordon, " and when I came up they 
had John tied to the horse's tail and were just 
preparing to move off ; I was mighty glad that I 
had turned up just in time. I had not meant to 
go home tliat way either, but sometliing seemed 
to say, ' ride by the mill,' and so I did. The caj)- 
tain knew me and looked ashamed of himself 
when I told him the boy was under age, and I 
would make trouble for him if he was taken. 
Rosco came galloping along at that minute and 
seeing two staunch Southerners they let John go ; 
they were pretty sulky about it, however, and 
I did not dare interfere about the horse; they 
might have taken the meal if Rosco hadn't put it 
on his horse and walked off before they had time 
to notice it. So here we are, and I am very glad, 
Mrs. Haydock, to bring your son home safely." 

"I am indeed very thankful," said Frances 
Haydock, " Our Master sent thee to the mill in 
time, I feel sure." 

" I will take the meal round to the kitchen 
door, Miss Haydock, shall I ?" asked Rosco Gordon, 
who still sat on his horse with the meal-bag before 
him, " John is a little shaken by his experience." 


In truth the boy did look rather white as he 
sat on the porch steps. Molly went through the 
house and met young Gordon, at the back door. 

" You see I came back as you asked me, but 
I am sorry not to bring the horse too." 

" It is one animal less to care for," replied 
Molly, " and we shall not have to send to mill any 
more, for this is the last of the corn." 

" This the last ? What will you do when this 
is gone? Oh, never mind ; ' sufficient unto the 
day.' No, I will take it in. There, you've knocked 
the red honeysuckle out of your hair." He stooped 
and picked up the full red cluster, putting it into 
his buttonhole. 

" Now I am decorated also ; that is a lovely 
bunch you have at your waist, and they suit your 
wdiite dress beautifully." He talked on to brighten 
her sad face if j)ossible ; John's imminent danger 
had shocked her greatly. 

" Father always liked red and white," said 
Molly, "Thank you very much, the meal goes 
in here, please," she lit a candle to show Rosco 
into their now nearly empty store-closet. " How 
thankful I am you saved John from being taken 
away !" 


" It was a i^retty near thing. The soldiers 
seems to regard Quakers with a special hatred. I 
think I'll turn Quaker myself out of sympathy 
for the persecuted," returned Rosco lightly. 

" Are you in earnest ?" asked Molly, holding 
the candle on high, as she turned and looked at 

" The more I look at the question of w^ar and 
study the Bible, the more it seems to me the only 
consistent Christian course," the young man re- 
plied, soberly, " it was certainly the example 
Christ set and most clearly taught. Non-resistance 
was His principle always." 

" Oh, what if the army should claim you 
too !" exclaimed Molly. 

" It is very odd that they have not ; I feel 
though as if it were coming. Well, we are not 
there yet," with a half sigh over what might soon 
be required. 

" No, you seem to stay here," broke in John's 
merry voice, quite himself again seemingly. 
" Haven't you j)ut that meal in the barrel, yet? 
Molly, I don't like candle-grease in my hoe-cake." 

ISIolly laughed as she noticed how crookedly 
she was holding her candle over the barrel. 


" "We may have to come to it, if our lard gives 
out," slie said. 

" We need not anticipate, though," said John, 
" Rosco, Mr. Gordon wants you now to go home 
with liim." 



COLONEL Preston's victory. 

We must go back a little in our story to 
where the Confederate army lay at Petersburg, 
awaiting the attack of the Federal forces. It was 
the day after the conversation between the col- 
onel and Haydock. The officers thought an en- 
gagement was imminent, and might take place 
at any hour. The colonel was moving around 
among his men to make sure that everything was 
in readiness, and paused a moment to speak to 
James Haydock who sat reading in the door of 
his tent. 

" Haydock, won't you, as a personal favor to 
me, carry a rifle to-day ? I really can't put a man 
into battle unarmed." 

" ' The Lord will be my shield and buckler.' 
' He that putteth his trust in Him shall never be 
confounded.' I do aj)preciate thy interest and 
am grateful for it, but I cannot go back on my 
captain. If it is His will to protect me, He is as 


able to do it in battle as elsewhere, and if He sees 
fit to take me home to Himself, ' even though He 
slay me, yet will I trust in Him.' " James Hay- 
dock had risen and stood with one hand on the 
rein of the colonel's horse looking earnestly at the 
rider, who looked back at him as steadily. 

" Well, I do not understand it ; yours is not 
the faith of a blind fatalist, I see that, and I 
should like to know the power that holds you up. 
If we come alive out of this day's work, I'll have 
another talk with you. Wasn't that a shot? I've 
no more time now ; may your God keep you," and 
turning. Colonel Preston rode hastily away; al- 
most at the same moment two soldiers approached 
James Haydock, and each taking one of his arms, 
he was led away to the company with whom he 
was to share the peril of the front rank in battle. 

As James Haydock stood in line awaiting the 
nearer approach of the blue battalions coming 
down the opposite hill and across the valley lying 
between them, thoughts crowded into his mind 
■with intense vividness. 

The lovely blue sky over them, the sunshine 
flooding the country, the hundreds of bright 
manly fellows now full of vigor, in a few minutes 


to be stretched lifeless, or in agony, on the ground : 
why should they suffer ? What would their death 
avail ? Did they save another life by resigning 
their own ? Could not the horrible waste of hu- 
man life have been prevented by wise legisla- 
tion carried into effect years ago ? When a crisis 
is upon us the time of preparation is past ; when 
men are angry and every passion is aroused, the 
moment to preach pacific measures is over, and 
the result is that thousands must suffer for foolish 
delay or blindness in forseeing the evil. And is 
this suffering expiatory? No, a hundred times 
no, it is simply and solely the inevitable result of 
sin. Is the pain of a burn the expiation for put- 
ting one's hand into the fire ? Even a child would 
hardly so assert, yet we hear it constantly afiirmed 
that the blood so abundantly shed in our civil 
war was in expiation for the sin of slavery ! The 
unavoidable consequence of sin is suffering ; the 
inevitable result of leaving the light is to walk in 
darkness. The crime of slavery was but working 
out its natural end of death and destruction, and 
involved in its fall many who had shaken them- 
selves free from the evil nearly a century before. 
What can be more pathetic than the words of the 


prophet Jeremiah as appHed to our country in 
her deep distress. " A wonderful and a horrible 
thing is committed in the land ; the prophets pro- 
phesy falsely, and my people love to have it so, 
and what will ye do in the end thereof?" 

So absorbed was James Haydock's mind in 
thoughts of this kind that he was only awakened 
to a full sense of his surroundings when a shower 
of rifle-balls fell about him, and through the sud- 
den cloud of smoke he saw that the blue-coats 
were coming up the hill, the answering volley 
from the Confederates failing to check the onward 
rush. The man on his right hand loaded his re- 
volver after this first fire, and his eyes gleamed 
fiercely at the foe, the one on his left hand had 
fallen and entered the next world with a curse on 
his lips. As Colonel Preston rode rapidly along 
the ranks, cheering his men on, his eye fell on 
James Haydock standing quietly with his hands 
loosely clasped behind him, looking out into the 

" Haydock, for God's sake, go to the rear. I 
can't see a man standing that way ; it is down 
right murder." 

" In faith it is all murder," muttered a smooth 



faced lad as a shot struck him and he fell at the 
colonel's feet. " I wonder how mother will get 
along without me/' was the faint whisper that 
James Haydock caught as he bent a moment over 
the young face so suddenly grown gray and rigid. 

" He's gone. Go to the rear, I tell 3'ou ; I 
command you." 

Silently James Haydock turned to obey or- 
ders when a fresh and still closer hail of shots 
staggered him for an instant ; almost blinded by 
the smoke, he could yet see that the colonel had 
fallen from his horse, and lay motionless, while 
the animal fled wildly over the field. Without a 
minute's hesitation, James Haydock lifted the 
rather slight form, and carrying it in his arms, 
walked quietly along the line and back to the 
tents in the rear. 

" I thought you said that man was a coward," 
said a soldier to his comrade ; " that don't look 
much like it." 

" Coward or hero, sinner or saint, I don't 
know; but I wish I felt as calm as he looked. 
Look out, here they come, now for a close fight 
and may the Lord have mercy on our souls." 

" Divil a bit the Lord is in this sort of work ; 


it ain't His kind. We'll drive 'em back though, 
if we can." 

And driven back they were ; it was not that 
day, nor the next, that Petersburg fell into the 
hands of the Northern army. There was to be a 
greater horror before the end was reached. A hor- 
ror of exploded mines, earth and stones flung up- 
ward, with a shower of mangled bodies falling 
again from the height to which so many human 
forms had been blown. Well earned was the name 
of Fort Hell, still clinging to the place. Weeks 
after the fight occurred, the writer, in walking 
over the ground shuddered to behold here and 
there a skeleton hand sticking out from the 
earth, telling its pitiful story ; while every few 
s.teps a skull would gleam up through the clay, 
with the hair on it blowing in the soft summer 

There was no sleep for James Haydock that 
nigh't. The Northerners acknowledging their de- 
feat, retired to their camps toward dusk ; the sun 
shone redly through the smoke lingering over the 
battle-field, and soon dropped behind the quiet 
hills, while the damp mists rose, and, mingling 
with the smoke wreaths, made the air thick and 


heavy. As James Haydock moved from tent to 
tent doing what he could to relieve the sufferers, 
he met the chaplain, who stopped a moment, re- 
garded him curiously and then said : 

" ' Is thy God whom thou servest continually, 
able to deliver thee from the lions ? ' " and James 
Haydock adopting the further language from 
Daniel of old, responded in like manner : 

" ' ]\Iy God hath sent his angel, and hath shut 
the lions' mouths, that they have not hurt me." 
The chajDlain spoke again, half to himself: 

"'Then was the king exceeding glad for 
him ; ' " then in a more jjractical tone asked : 

"Have you seen the colonel within an hour 
or so?" 

" No ; the doctors were with him when I came 
away, and I have been doing what I could for 
others. I fear he is seriously wounded." 

"Have you looked at the dead?" was the 
chaplain's next question. 


" Would you mind then, going into the long 
tent, and seeing if there are any little things about 
them you can send home to the families ? Any- 
thing is such a comfort." 


The hush that j)revailed under the long white 
canvas canopy was very solemn, and contrasted 
strangely with the moans to which James Hay- 
dock had been listening when helping with the 
wounded. Here all pain was over ; peacefully lay 
the still forms on the bare boards that did not 
look uncomfortable as the entire repose of the 
faces was noted. No emaciation from illness, no 
sign even of suffering is found as a rule on the 
faces of those who make sudden exit from this 
world. A few attendants were gently going among 
the bodies, trying to find the address of distant 
relations to whom would soon come the heavy 
tidings, " Killed at Petersburg." Sometimes a 
photograph in a letter would be found, sometimes 
a pocket testament with the name of the giver in 
it, and from the breast pocket of one young man, 
James Haydock took a letter containing a dark 
brown lock of hair tied with a tiny silken curl of 
gold. The simple inscription, " Baby's hair," 
brought the tears to James Haydock's eyes as he 
replaced the envelope over the heart that could no 
longer beat for wife or child. 

Till day dawned, James Haydock continued, 
with many others, to do what he could to alleviate 


the misery always following a battle, and as the 
eastern sky began to lighten he went to snatch a 
few minutes rest in his tent. From this he was 
presently aroused by a hand on his shoulder and 
looking up he saw the chaplain standing before 
him, looking tired and sad. 

" Colonel Preston wants you," he said, " I 
don't seem able to satisfy him," he added with a 
melancholy little smile. James Haydock rose at 

" Is he very ill ? " 

"The doctors give him only twenty-four 
hours, I believe ; but I hope it is not that bad. 
Here, take this coffee before you go," and the 
chaplain took a cup from a j)assing negro boy 
who had been carrying the refreshing beverage to 
many a thirsty soul through the night. 

" Thanks ; now I will go." A very few steps 
brought him to Colonel Preston's tent ; the wound- 
ed man was lying quietly on his mattress, with 
eyes wide open, seemingly fixed on nothing ; but 
a look of recognition came into them as James 
Haydock entered the doorway, pausing a minute 
on the threshold. 

" Come in, and sit down, no ceremony is 


needed now. I do not think I thanked you for 
carrying me off the field yesterday." 

" No thanks were necessary, surely ; it was 
the only thing to do," and James Haydock sat 
down on a camp stool beside the bed. 

" You had no rifle or sword to impede your 
steps, eithei," said Colonel Preston smiling rather 
grimly, " I am glad I had ordered you to the 
rear, it was lucky for me I did. You would not 
have gone without, would you ? " 

" Probably not, but do not talk of it now. Is 
there anything I can do for thee ? " 

" Yes, there may be, I don't know ; no one so 
far has given me satisfaction on these questions 
that will rise in my mind," then suddenly, " How 
do you know there is a future state ? I have half 
believed in a God, sometimes I think I do, but 
nature has always been the God I have really 
worshipped ; she has been my guide." 

James Haydock made no motion of surprise, 
waiting quietly till the short, rather hurried sen- 
tences had stopped ; meanwhile the chaplain had 
glided in, seemingly unnoticed, and taken a seat 
behind the colonel. 

" Is thee suffering ? Will talking hurt thee ? " 
was James Haydock's first question. 


" No, no, I'm not in j^jain, the trouble is some- 
thing internal, they say, I don't know how they 
know ; but go on, talk, and leave off your con- 
founded ' thees ' and ' thous,' will you ? I don't 
get the sense clear. I beg pardon ; I don't mean 
to hurt you," he added, controlling the irritation 
caused by weakness. 

"You don't hurt me," replied James Hay- 
dock, gravely. To him the "plain language" 
was not a matter of vital importance. Coming 
directly to the point, he said, " You speak of na- 
ture as a guide." 

" Yes, she is infallible ; and she seems to teach 
that we die and return to the earth as do the ani- 
mals. I have studied her a good deal and it 
seems to me I have interpreted correctly." 

" I have studied nature also ; and it is curious 
how, having been educated by the same teacher, 
we have arrived at different conclusions. Either 
one of us has not understood her teachings, or she 
has deceived us," said James Haydock, following 
the colonel's line of thought. 

" No, ' replied the colonel, " nature does not 
deceive, whatever else may." 

" Then," said James Haydock, " the mistake 


is in one of us. May I compare my views with 
yours ? I take it you only seek the truth ?" 

" That is all ; go ahead, I like to hear you 
talk," he put one hand under his cheek and lay 
looking at his companion with bright, seeking 
eyes. This was not the usual manner of death- 
bed talk, and the speaker attracted him. 

" Have you ever known in your experience a 
creature wdiose nature was opposed to its appetite ?" 
The colonel thought a few minutes and then said. 

" No, such a creature cannot exist. With a 
carnivorous stomach and an herbivorous appetite 
the creature would soon starve." 

" Can you think of any exception to this 

" No ; none certainly in the animal world ; 
of course education in a few instances might 
almost change nature, but the rule holds the 

" You think you are going to die ?" was the 
next seemingly irrelevant question. 

" I suppose so," and a pained look passed over 
the expressive face for an instant only. 

" You think death terminates your existence ?" 

" Yes, I can't really see anything else ?" 


" Now answer me, have you not an appetite 
for something you have not yet gotten ?" 

" Yes, I want to live." 

" How long do you want to live ?" 

'* You have me there, liow can I i^ossibly tell 

" If you lived till the world were destroyed, 
supposing that ever takes place, would your de- 
sire for life be satisfied ?" 

'^ No." 

" Would it ever be satisfied ? Does nature 
then give you a longing that can never be satis- 
fied? Would even a God be a just God who im- 
planted an appetite for something that was never 
to be satisfied ?" 

" No; I do not think I ever saw the thing in 
that light before. Have I been mistaken ?" 

" Would this satisfy you, ' I am the living 
bread that came down from Heaven ; if a man eat 
of this bread he shall live for ever and ever.'" 

" That would satisfy, if you believed it." 

" Is it not a logical deduction that the longing 
for more than we shall find in tliis world should 
be provided for ? Does not the very fact that the 
longing exists prove that there is something to 


satisfy it ? Will you not accept God and believe 
in the redeeming power of Christ, ' who His own 
self bare our sins in His own body on the tree ?' " 

" What is the rest of that?" asked the colonel, 
his face softening more and more as the words 
spoken grew clear in the approaching light of the 
next world. 

" ' That we being dead to sins, should live unto 
righteousness — by whose strij)es ye are healed,' " 
then quoting a foregoing verse, half to himself, 
James Haydock added, " ' Who, when He was re- 
viled, reviled not again; when He suffered He 
threatened not, but committed Himself to Him 
who judgeth righteously.' " 

" Who judgeth righteously," repeated Colonel 
Preston, " Where should I be if I were judged ac- 
cording to my deeds ? Yet I have lived as other 

" ' We have all sinned and come short of the 
glory of God.' ' If any man sin, we have an ad- 
vocate with the Father.' 'And He laid on Him 
the iniquity of us alV " 

" Haydock, as the end draws near, one must 

'believe there is something more. This life cannot 

go out here ; there is too much in us, and the look- 


ing for a future is inevitable ; there must be some- 
thing beyond ; now how do we attain to it?" 

" ' There is none other name under Heaven 
given among men whereby we must be saved,' " 
answered James Haydock. 

" And that means Christ ? Say that text 
about Him again." 

" ' Who His own self bare our sins, in His own 
body on the tree,' " slowly repeated James Hay- 
dock, with an earnest silent prayer that the truth 
might go home to the anxious listener ; in a low 
voice he continued the simple quotations from 

" ' Without the shedding of blood there is no 
remission.' ' If we walk in the light, as He is in 
the light, we have fellowship one with another, 
and the blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth us from all 
sin.' ' Whosoever believeth that Jesus is the Christ, 
is born of God.' ' God so loved the world that He 
gave His only begotten Son that whosoever be- 
lieveth on Him should not perish, but have ever- 
lasting life.' " The voice ceased. Colonel Preston 
covered his eyes with his hand as he listened, not 
to man's arguments, but to the simple words' 
from the Bible. In the silence that followed the 


cessation of the speaker's voice, he removed his 
hand and quietly said : " I do beheve in God, 
and that Jesus Christ is His Son." 

" ' He tliat beheveth hath everlasting life/ and 
' he that believeth on the Son of God hath the wit- 
ness in himself/ " said James Haydock, thankfully 
watching the dawning of light. 

" That is surely true, and I think the witness 
is sjDeaking in me," said the colonel, " Thank God 
you ever came to camp, Mr. Haydock ; nothing 
ever impressed me as your absolute faith has done ; 
it gave me confidence in you and showed a power 
somewhere that I did not understand. It was worth 
all the preaching in the world, and now you have 
given me rest ; the doubt is gone. God has been 
wonderfully good to me." He stopped speaking 
and lay quietly looking away through the tent 
door to the distant hills ; there was no particular 
evidence of emotion in his acceptance of the truth, 
but a great peace overspread his face, show^ing 
the reality of the change. At this moment the 
doctor came in and walking up to the bedside of 
the wounded man, laid his hand on his pulse ; 
the colonel looked at him inquiringly. 

" Am I any better, doctor ? I don't suffer." 


" No, you may not suffer at all, but you are 
no better." 

The doctor was a blunt, though a kind- 
hearted man ; feeling strongly he often concealed 
the feeling under an off-hand manner; he stood a 
few minutes looking down at the colonel, who 
presently looked up and smiled. 

"Are you all right?" suddenly asked the 

" Aye, all right," was the quick response, " two 
hours ago I was not all right, but God sent this 
man, I truly believe, to me, and through him light 
has broken into my heart at last ; I never dreamed 
of seeing so clearly. I can die now, though I 
would like to live to tell others what has been told 

" I thought you looked differently from when 
I saw you this morning. The change was pretty 
quick." The doctor spoke a trifle doubtfully. 

" You think it is a death-bed conversion ? No 
wonder. I don't know how to tell you the reality 
of it. I never can, but what I can tell you is, it 
does not take a man long to grasp a good thing 
when he sees it plainl}^, and God heljDed me to see 
it." The eager voice failed somewhat, as he fin- 
ished his sentence. 


" You must stop talking and rest ; have j^ou 
had anything to eat ?" The doctor's eye wandered 
round the tent in search of some one, and he looked 
a little surprised as the chaplain rose from his 
■dark corner and came forward. 

" I will get Colonel Preston what he needs," 
he said, going out of the tent. 

" I'm afraid I was rough with him this morn- 
ing," the colonel said, his eyes following him, " I 
must tell him so." 

" Very well ; don't talk too much though, you 
are not able for it." 

" I want to talk while I can." 

"Your face talks for you," the doctor said 
shortly, " I'll come in again by and by," and he 
left to go to others who needed his attention more 
than the colonel. For him he knew there was no 
more to be done. 

All day long James Haydock stayed by his 
colonel, to whom, in common with most of the reg- 
iment, he felt a strong attachment. Toward the 
close of the afternoon Colonel Preston fell into a 
cjuiet sleep, and the Chaplain persuaded James 
Haydock to go and lie down in his own tent. 

" It is close by, I will call you when he wakes, 


and you must be very weary." Thus urged, James 
Haydock consented to leave the sick bed, for in- 
deed he was nearly exhausted. In about two 
hours a touch on his arm aroused him. 

" Will you come ?" were the only words the 
chaplain said, and he followed silently to the col- 
onel's tent ; a slight smile crossed the face of Col- 
onel Preston as James Haydock sat clown beside 
him ; it went almost as quickly as it had come and 
left a gravity that had a tinge of questioning 
in it. 

" The valley of death is not far away," he 
said, speaking with an effort. 

" It is but the valley of the shadoiu of death. 
To one who sees the light of Christ shining 
through, it can be only a shadow; nothing to be 
afraid of." 

" I am not afraid ; the light is clear, but the 
passing seems strange," and then James Haydock 
told liim, speaking slowly to the failing senses, 
the story of the Alj)ine guide, who, in crossing a 
dangerous peak, slipped upon the glittering snow 
and fell down into a precipitous ravine ; slij)ping 
and sliding over the smooth ice, he was still alive 
when he reached the bottom, but how hopeless his 


situation ; only the eternal snows stretched silently 
above and the blue sky looking pitilessly down 
upon him. A little rivulet rippled and sang 
sweetly beside him along the ravine, his only 
chance of escape lay in following it ; so he follow- 
ed on and on till all at once a blank wall of cruel 
ice rose before him at whose base the stream sank, 
seemingly, into a whirlpool and vanished. Was 
all hope gone ? A pause, and then with a prayer 
to God he sprang into the water and struggled 
along through a cavern to emerge in a moment on 
a green meadow covered with the most beautiful 
Alpine flowers. Like death, it was but a passage 
to a brighter world. Colonel Preston listened, but 
his face seemed to ask for something more, and in 
the waning light, James Haydock repeated the 
words : 

" ' This is the victory that overcometh the 
world, even our faith ; ' " and again, " ' He that 
believeth on me shall not jDerish, but shall have 
everlasting life.' " 

Low and clearly fell the sentences from the 
speaker's lips, telling of the certainty of everlast- 
ing life ; the spirit passing looked out calmly and 
expectantly from the deep and earnest eyes that 



suddenly brightened, and as suddenly failed and 
grew dark. He was gone. 

The chaplain who had been standing near 
the head of the cot, stooped forward and closed 
the lids, when he saw that all was over. 

" Through death unto life," he said, as James 
Haydock having risen, both men stood together 
beside the dead. Straightening the limbs lovingly, 
they turned to leave the tent, the chaplain to see 
about rendering the last necessary services to his 
colonel, James Haydock to return to his place, 
feeling as though his assistance was no longer 
needful. The chaplain stopped him. 

" Mr. Haydock, I cannot leave you to-night 
without telling you how deeply grateful I am for 
the lessons you have taught me to-day. I shall 
never forget what you have said, and shall go on 
my way to fulfil my duties to others, I hope more 
earnestly and believingly than I have ever done 

" The words which I have spoken were not 
mine. May the Lord bless them to you — ' now the 
Lord of Peace Himself give you peace always by 
all means,' " was James Haydock's parting saluta- 
tion as he turned away after a warm hand-clasp 


from the chaplain. Lights were still moving 
about in some of the tents, but his own was dark 
as he entered it and a deep depression came over 
him as he leaned against the post supporting the 
canvas. Colonel Preston had been a friend to him 
and he felt the loss; he had heard nothing from 
home ; how were all his dear ones, and would he 
ever see them again ? What would be his fate in 
the next battle? Would he still be protected? 
Then the words concerning Daniel which he had 
spoken to the chaplain in the morning rose to 
comfort him and as if in confirmation of the 
thought, again came faintly through the darkness, 
the distant singing from the negroes' tent : 

' ' My Lord delivered Daniel, 

Why can't He deliver me? " 




The summer wore away with its long days of 
intense heat. The autumn of the last 3'ear of the 
war brought its beauty of yellow leaves, purple 
asters, and scarlet and orange berries to a land 
that groaned under the burden of desolated 
homesteads and ruined fields. 

Supplies of all kinds were growing scarcer ;. 
roasted peas had taken the place of coffee, sassa- 
fras leaves were used for tea ; sugar, except a little 
made from home grown sorghum, was hard to ob- 
tain, and sold at preposterously high prices. Few 
indeed of the inhabitants of the South had any 
money to buy with, though cornmeal was still an 
obtainable commodity, and potatoes were to be 
had in some places. 

Frances Haydock had availed herself of an 
opportunity of purchasing a large supply of corn- 
meal from a neighbor moving away from the vi- 
cinity and therefore they were out of reach of ab- 


solute want, and the two heifers fortunately still 
remained unimpressed by the army; they had 
been brought from their distant pasture to a 
nearer one and were housed at night as the cooler 
autumn drew on, in an unsuspicious looking little 
building behind the house. The barn w^as too 
often searched by passing foragers to be a safe 
shelter for the precious animals. Letters came in- 
frequently and by uncertain carriers, from James 
Haydock, telling his anxious friends of his cir- 
cumstances. So far he had been preserved in 
safety, and had even undergone no especial suffer- 
ing, though he was subjected to many privations. 
He was often able to do a kind deed for his fellow 
soldiers, and was continually manifesting by word 
and action the faith that was in him. 

j\Ir. Gordon had been a kind friend to the 
Haydocks during the husband's absence. Mrs. 
Gordon, for many years an invalid, was failing 
more and more as the straightened condition of 
their circumstances told upon her, and Mr. Gor- 
don was thus much needed at home. His son, 
however, often rode over to the Haydock farm and 
assisted in whatever way he could, the household 
in which he had a particular interest. 


Probably it was owing to the fact that old Mr. 
Gordon was known to be a staunch Southerner, 
and disabled in the service, that his son Rosco had 
been permitted to remain at home. Since the con- 
flict between North and South began, the young 
man had pondered long and earnestly over the 
position held by Friends, regarding war, and had 
come to the conclusion that it was the only one 
consistent with the Bible teachings. AVell aware 
that his father would differ on this point, he had 
not spoken at home of his convictions, but he 
knew in his heart that should he be drafted into 
the army, he must refuse to carry arms, even in 
allegiance to his beloved South. He knew that 
wars must come ; it was foretold in the Bible that 
as long as the world lasted in its present condition, 
there would be destructive conflicts. But he also 
saw clearly that many evils were prophesied in 
the same manner, and that the fact of their being 
inevitable did not make them right. He believed 
it was most distinctly the duty of every child of 
God to free himself from the sin of bloodshed, 
and to do all in his power to in-duce others to view 
the teachings of Christ in this same light. ]\Iany 
Friends had been taken from their homes in the 

DREAR Y DA YS. ] 67 

neighborhood where the Haydocks and Gordons 
dweh, and had gone unresistingly, though re- 
maining firm in their refusal to bear arms. Their 
families had been left to toil on as best they might, 
their horses and cows had been taken for army 
use, and all means of travel being thus gone, 
communication between neighbors became rarer, 
and households were more isolated. 

Molly often felt very lonely, and the bright 
presence of Rosco Gordon was most welcome, 
whenever he entered their quiet dwelling. One 
morning in late October, carrying a half-filled bag 
of pine cones over his shoulder, .John came run- 
ning up the avenue whose fine old trees were be- 
ginning to have rather a neglected look ; strag- 
gling bushes were creeping in among them, and a 
dead bough here and there betokened the absence 
of a master's hand. 

" Oh, mother ! " John cried breathlessly 
" there are two companies of Northern soldiers 
coming up the road, and they saw I turned in 
here, and they say they must have something to 
eat, and hay for their horses; see, there are the 
first of them now just coming up the lane," his 
rapid speech was full of excitement ; " Molly, the 
heifers — " 


" Are out at pasture ; but if these men take a 
quantity of hay, what shall we do this winter ? " 

" Trust in the Lord, daughter dear," said her 
mother, whose quietness often calmed Molly, just 
as Molly's energy frequently sustained her moth- 
er's sinking heart. 

Two squads of cavalry rode up before any- 
thing more could be said and dismounting in the 
front yard, tied their horses in rows to the sur- 
rounding fence and forming into line seemingly 
from force of habit, approached the house. 

" Will you please give us what 3^ou have at 
hand to eat ?" was the courteous demand of the 
captain, as he entered the living-room without 
waiting for an invitation. 

" Certainly," was Frances Haydock's willing 
reply. These were Union men, and therefore 
friends even if soldiers. " I suppose thy men will 
be content with what we have ? It is only hoe- 
cakes and coffee." 

" Not real coffee at that, I fancy," said the 
captain with a smile. " Yes, ma'am, we will only 
take what we can get ; but please be quick about 

" Molly promptly set before them what food 


they had ready, and fresh coffee was soon boiling 
on the stove. Forty men were not easily satisfied, 
and ]\Iolly's pans of freshly baked corn-bread 
disappeared like leaves before the wind. Those 
whose appetites were first appeased went to the 
barn and returned with armsful of hay for the 
weary horses that stood at the fence with droop- 
ing heads. The heavy saddles were loosened and 
the dangling stirrups clinked as the hard ridden 
steeds shifted their position from one tired leg to 
the other. The soldiers threw themselves down 
in the sandy yard under the shade of the live oaks 
and smoked leisurely as the horses ate their rather 
dry provender. Some of the men lounged on the 
porch steps and watched the smoke from their 
pipes curl up among the Banksia roses and red 
honeysuckle. The quiet premises seemed turned 
into a camp. The captain had made some at- 
tempt to open a conversation with Molly, address- 
ing her in a polite manner enough, but the girl 
feeling ill at ease had cut him short, and disap- 
peared into the kitchen with a pile of plates in 
her hands, leaving her mother to keep up the con- 
versation. Frances Haydock supplied him with 
what he needed, and at last addressed him with 
the question. 


" Do they consider at the North that the war 
is likely to continue long?" 

"No, ma'am," the soldier spoke decidedly, 
"we think this winter will end it; the South can- 
not hold out much longer, her supplies are pretty 
much gone, and that is what will make 'em give 
in. They've made a plucky stand, but without 
money, men, or food, so to speak, they must 
collapse sooner or later." 

" I shall be most thankful when it is over," 
said Frances Haydock. 

" No doubt ma'am ; j^ou've felt it a deal more 
here than the Northerners do. Why most of the 
houses we have been in round here had no car- 
pets ; cut 'em all up for army blankets, and such 
food as we've had to put up with through this 
country! Are you a Southerner, ma'am ?" 

" I was born in the South. I believe, how- 
ever, in supporting the Union, but not by war." 

" I don't see any other way of supporting it, 
ma'am, just now," he replied, "when you're in a 
sinking ship, you catch the first plank that turns 
up ; do the best you can." 

" Better have strengthened the ship by remov- 
ing unsound wood before the peril was upon us," 


Frances Haydock replied smiling. The straight- 
forward manner of the man interested her, in spite 
of his rather arrogant air. 

" Yes, ma'am, I agree with you ; anyone who 
has really seen war does not hanker after it. We 
must be moving now, thank you for the din- 
ner, and good-by ; hope to see you sometime in 
better condition," and bowing, he went out to get 
his men together for their further march. 

" I hope we shall not see him at all," re- 
marked Molly to her mother, " they have taken 
nearly all the hay." Through the open door they 
watched the departure of the blue-coated soldiers, 
soon the last figure had vanished and no trace of 
them remained excej)t the trampled sand and 
scattered wisps of hay. 

" ]\Iother, there is nothing for supper, is 
there ?" asked John, later, coming in from the 
shed where he had been cutting wood to supply 
the fire. 

'' Molly and I will soon bake some more pone 
bread, if thee gets us some eggs," said his mother 
cheeril}^ " We must not grudge the food to the 
Union men," pushing the hair away from her 
forehead and preparing for work. Molly noticed 
the rather weary gesture and said, 


" Sit down, mother, John and I will soon 
have things in order." 

" Yes, I'll do it all," said the boy, suddenly 
remorseful for having found any fault with any- 
thing, " I supj)Ose I should be glad to feed them, 
but I can't abide any of them, they think they 
can order you all about." 

" Well, so they can. Now let us see if we can 
find any eggs. Mother dear, sit down awdiile. 
There, chicks, they did not get you, anyhow, did 
they?" said Molly, gently driving out three half- 
grown hens that were poking their heads about 
under the kitchen table, their feet rattling on the 
bare floor. 

" Give them that last bit of corn-bread, INIolly," 
said John, and then they w^alked to the barn to- 

" Pah, how^ the barn smells of bad tobacco," 
remarked John as they stood on the littered floor. 

" It is fortunate that they did not set any- 
thing on fire," returned Molly as they gathered 
together the hay lying about and tossed it back 
into a manger. 

" jMolly, the evenings are getting very cool," 
said John as they went back to the house wnth a 


very few eggs. " I must get in a good supply of 
cones. Give me the pail now and I'll go and 
milk the cows," and John departed, whistling as 
he went. His troubles, though keenly felt at the 
time, did not long depress his merry nature. 

" Mother, how pale tliee looks ; does thy head 
ache badly ?" questioned Molly, as she entered the 
living room where her mother was resting in the 
big chair, " won't thee go and lie down ? I have 
made a little fresh hoecake and it is now baking." 

" My head does ache very much this evening, 
dear," her mother answered, in a rather faint 

" I will make thee a cup of our good tea and 
then 25ut thee to bed," said Molly, " The soldiers 
have tired thee." 

" Molly, he thought the war must be nearly 
over," said her mother, as the girl took a little 
from their store of real tea, now treasured for very 
extra occasions, and proceeded quickly to make 
a cup of the refreshing beverage. 

" Yes, we shall soon have father back again. 
Now does not this tea smell good ?" 

" Very, my daughter," but Molly was fright- 
ened to see a tear roll down her mother's white 


cheek ; the long strain was wearing Frances Hay- 
dock more than she knew. 

"Thank thee; now I will go to my room," 
she said, and Molly assisted her mother to undress 
and lay her aching head down to rest. 

John soon came in and seeing Molly's de- 
pressed look, lit the fire, talking brightly all the 
wdiile, heaping on fuel till the flames leaj^ed gayly 
up the chimney, and the melting turj)entine on 
the cones dropped into the blaze, sending a resin- 
ous odor through the room. 

" jNIolly, come have some supper, do, I'm hun- 
gry," and Molly came to the table whereon John 
had set the hoecake and milk. 

"I'm going to boil two eggs, right here on 
the coals, I think our hens are really splendid 
to lay so many," and John set a little saucepan 
on some j^ine cones which, being an unsubstantial 
foundation, presently upset the utensil with its 
contents on to the wide hearth, 

" The eggs are done anyhow," said John, 
" now eat them both, Molly," but she made him 
take one, and then went to see if her mother was 
sleeping; as she entered the chamber, Frances 
Haydock moved restlessly and opened her eyes. 


" Molly, give me some of that anodyne please, 
I cannot get to sleep." IMolly administered the 
narcotic and then sat beside her mother till her 
face grew calm and she fell quietly asleep. As 
the girl came from the chamber, closing the door 
gently, John rolled over from his favorite resting- 
place before the fire. 

" Molly, I'm going to bed ; I want to get up 
early to-morrow and do a big day's work with the 
cones, so good-night." 

" Good-night, dear," and the maiden was left 
alone in the large room into whose shady corners 
the firelight threw only a fitful illumination. Be- 
fore long a familiar step sounded on the porch, 
breaking in on her sad musings, and the light 
knock was almost simultaneous with the opening 
of the door to Rosco Gordon. 

"I am so glad to see you to-night," was 
Molly's greeting as she came forward, putting 
away her sorrowful meditations. 

" And I to come," replied the young man, sit- 
ting down on a low stool and leaning back against 
one of the jambs of the high mantle-piece. 

" How is Mrs. Haydock to-night?" he asked 
looking up at her. 


" Oh, so tired," said Molly, sitting down again, 
in the deep, high-backed rocking chair. She told 
him of all that had happened that day, of their 
numerous visitors, and the inroad made upon the 
winter's stock of hay. 

" It is only the result of a state of war and 
cannot be avoided," he remarked. " I am glad 
you were not annoyed by any rougher behavior. 
It is a lonely position for you all. Miss INIolly. I 
wish I was able to protect you." 

The color heightened a little on Molly's 
cheek, for there was a longing in Rosco Gordon's 
tone that made his remark almost personal. 

" I am glad you are as near neighbors as you 
are," she said, " we should feel desolate indeed 
without you." 

" Have I told you that I have come to hold 
your father's belief about war ? " said the young 
man, breaking the pause following Molly's last re- 
mark. He glanced at her, his hazel eyes shining 
in the firelight. 

" No, have you ? " she said, " Oh, Mr. Gordon, 
it may bring a heavy burden on you ; are you 
able to bear it?" 

" I think I am. After all, nothing 2:)rom2)ted 


by love for a dear Master can be counted a bur- 
den." He turned from her, looking thoughtfully 
into the fire. 

" Speaking of burdens," he said, " did you 
ever hear the little German legend of the birds 
and their wings ? " 

" Please tell it to me," said Molly ; and he 
told her how the fable ran that when the birds 
were created they were made with soft and gor- 
geous plumage, but without wings ; then as they 
hopped about lightly on the grass, the Creator 
made a number of wings and laid them before the 
birds, telling them to take up these burdens He 
had given, and bear them for Him. Each little 
bird lifted two wings, content to carry the load the 
Master gave ; soon however the wings grew fast on 
the shoulders, and that which had seemed but an 
incumbrance raised and bore the bird upward 
toward a freer heaven. "And now I must go," 
said Rosco, rising as he ended his legend, while 
Molly looked up at him, her eyes tender with the 
beauty of the story he had told her. " I had a 
summons to-day to join the army, and must leave 
to-morrow evening, I suppose," he spoke abruptly. 

" Oh, must you go, too ? " exclaimed Molly, 



clasping her hands in distress, " what will come 

" Do you care much ? " he asked. 

" Of course I care," she said, " we all care," 
she added, looking not at him, but into the glow- 
ing mass of coals. 

" Is it selfish to be glad that you do care ? " 
said he. " I think I shall come back again and 
then — " He left the sentence unfinished and 
silently shaking hands turned toward the door ; 
she followed and they stood on the porch together, 

" I will not say good-by now ; I will see you 
in the morning." 

" It is not good-by," she rejolied in a low 

" No, it is not ; God willing," he answered and 
lifting his hat, he mounted his horse and was 
quickly lost in the obscurity of the avenue. Mol- 
ly stood listening to the hoof-beats dying away in 
the distance ; an owl, looking unnaturally big in 
the faint light of the young moon, floated noise- 
lessly from the roof over her head and lighted on 
the large live-oak at the corner of the house ; she 
could see it standing amid the tiny green fern that 
clothed the trunk of the tree far up to the branches ; 


the gray moss hung motionless from the spreading 
boughs. She felt unutterably lonely, her father 
gone and Rosco going ; she would not acknowl- 
edge to herself that the last would be the greater 
loss. As she stood absorbed in sad thoughts, a 
sudden light round the corner of the house star- 
tled her and she ran down the steps to see whence 
it came ; hastening to the side of the yard she saw 
the barn was in a blaze of fire, the flames seeming 
to have gained hopeless headway. What should 
she do? There was absolutely nothing to do. 
The building must have been burning on the in- 
side for some time. Fortunately a scarcely per- 
ceptible breeze carried the sparks away from the 
house. Should she rouse her mother ? She could 
do nothing and was sleeping away her weary 
headache ; Molly did not want to wake her, and 
John slept the profound sleep of boyhood in the 
dark loft on the other side of the house. Molly 
shivered with nervous excitement as she leaned on 
the fence watching with fascinated eyes the burn- 
ing hay whirled aloft in the current of air created 
by the flames. The owl, alarmed by the light, 
with a low uneven cry left the tree it was sitting 
on and winged its way into a denser shade. 


" The house is not in danger," was her one 
thought ; presently she heard a horse come gallop- 
ing u]) the avenue and knew that Rosco Gordon 
had seen the light and returned. Her figure was 
clearly visible in the intense glare and Gordon 
was quickly beside her; together they watched 
the blazing building. 

" The soldiers probably dropped some coals 
from their pipes there this morning," was his first 
remark. " It must have been smouldering a long 

"I suppose so," Molly's voice trembled and 
she said no more. 

" Miss Haydock, won't you go into the house ? 
You ought not to stand here in the night air," 
said Rosco anxiously, seeing how she shivered. 

" It is not that," she replied, her lips hardly 
forming the words, *' but everything seems to come 
together." He drew her hand within his arm and 
gradually her tremor passed away as they silently 
gazed at the hopeless destruction of the old barn. 
The framework shone like bars of red-hot iron 
against the white light within as the billows of 
flame rolled up amid the heavy smoke. 

" I saw the light almost as soon as I passed 


beyond the oaks. I am only thankful your house 
is not in danger." 

" Indeed, yes," said Molly, speaking more like 
herself again. "Ah, see, there goes the last of the 
rafters ! " and in truth, beam after beam fell in, 
and in less time than one could imagine, the 
building had been consumed and nothing but a 
dull glow showed where the old barn that Molly 
had loved to ramble over when a child, had stood. 

" It is gone," she said, making a motion to 
withdraw her hand, but Rosco still kept it on his 
arm as he led her to the house. 

" I -wall go and see that nothing else is likely 
to take fire, and come and tell you," he said, as he 
opened the door for her to enter. 

" Thank you," she re23lied, simply, going 
toward the fireplace where the embers still shone 
in red rifts out through the white crust forming 
above them. 

" It is all right," said Rosco cheerily, return- 
ing in a few minutes from his tour of inspection, 
" the wood-pile is too far off* to catch, and every- 
thing else is burned. I'm thankful you and the 
house are left." Molly did not answer, and after 
looking at the girl's drooping figure a moment he 


went to her side and put his arm round her waist, 
she did not move away from him. 

" Molly, I had not meant to speak before I 
went, but I cannot help it — ." What else was said 
only the old clock heard, as it ticked solemnly on, 
for the words were spoken very low in Molly's ear. 
All we know is that half an hour afterward the 
light and color had returned to her face, and she 
sang a bit of an old song as she banked up the 
fire after Rosco Gordon left for the second time 
that night. 




Early tlie next morning Rosco Gordon rode 
over to Frances Haydock's to say good-by ; he sup- 
posed the soldiers might come for him any time 
during the day and wanted to make sure of an 
uninterrupted hour with Molly before the home 
partings were gone through. Frances Haydock 
did not seem to be as much disturbed over the loss 
of the barn as her daughter had feared. When a 
great anxiety fills one's life, smaller things make 
no imj)ression, and having been sjDared the actual 
sight of the burning, she simply accepted the oc- 
currence as inevitable, and not to be thought of 
again. Grief over the conscription of R-osco Gor- 
don predominated in her mind over any loss of 

" If thee should see my husband, Rosco," she 
said, holding in her own the hand of the young 
friend who had grown so near to them in the past 
troubled months, " ask him, if possible, to make 


his way North. There is surely no obhgation on 
him to remain with trooj^s bent on destroying the 
Union to which he is so loyal, and I should feel 
truly thankful if I knew he were with our children 
in the Northern States." 

" I will tell him if I see him, dear Mrs. Hay- 
dock, but the chances are scarcely one in a hun- 

" I know," she said sadly, " but it might hap- 

" I hope it will," he replied, " and now I must 
go. Good-b}^," and he raised the still fair hand of 
the Quakeress to his lij^s, lovingly, as a son might 
do. It was an unusual salute for one of these un- 
demonstrative people to receive, and it rather dis- 
turbed Frances Haydock's calm demeanor. 

" Farewell," she said, " and may the Master 
keep thee as in the hollow of His hand," The 
young man turned to Molly : " Will you walk 
down the lane with me a little way, ]\Iiss Hay- 
dock ?" he asked. 

She assented by taking up her hat, and with 
a hearty ' Good-by, old fellow, take good care of 
them all," to John, the youth and maiden walked 
slowly along the winding avenue through whose 


thinning foliage the autumn sun shot many a 
faint ray. John looked after them. 

" Take good care of you, indeed," he said in- 
dignantly, " does he think I won't do that any- 
how ? I care a heap more for you all than he does, 
I reckon ; don't I, mother ?" receiving no answer 
he looked at his mother and gaining a new intel- 
ligence from a rather surprised, yet comprehend- 
ing expression on her countenance, he ejaculated 
with enlightened understanding: 

" Oh, t\iat\ the matter, is it ? ]\Iaybe he does 
care more for Molly than I do after all. I'll for- 
give him if that's the case, for he really will make 
a jolly brother-in-law. That's why he was so extra 
affectionate to thee, wasn't it. I wouldn't kiss 
peoj^le b}^ proxy, though;" then another ray of 
light striking across his inexperienced mind, he 
suddenly sat down in the box containing the pine 
cones, and remarked: 

"Molly didn't seem to object to walking 
down the road with him, so may be all the kissing 
won't be done by proxy after all." His mother 
could not help laughing at the boy's comical as- 
tonishment, and yet the affair had taken her by 
surprise also ; not that it need have done so, she 


thought, as she looked back over their years of 
intercourse, and increased intimacy in these latter 
months. She loved Eosco with a warm affection 
and could not regret the turn matters had taken, 

" And yet, oh, that the child may not have to 
suffer," was her thought, the terrible condition of 
the country being ever present to her mind. Molly 
soon returned looking brighter than might have 
been expected after the parting, but hope is strong 
in young breasts and Eosco was sure he would be 
back before very long. We may give thanks for 
the blessing of hope; even if unfulfilled, how 
many weary hours does it carry us through. 
John observed his sister critically as she ran up 
the porch steps. 

"Molly, thee should not walk so fast, thy 
cheeks are very red, and thy hair is quite ravelled 
out," was his grave comment. 

" What do boys know about ravellings ? The 
wind blew my hair all about," was her answer. 

" There isn't any wind," he re23lied, " and 
where is thy hat ?" Molly turned and looked at 

" Thee will get turpentine on thy pantaloons 
if thee sits on those cones, and I don't want to 


clean them," returned his sister laughing as she 
went into the house. 

" Where is that hat ?" shouted the boy after 

" Bless me, where is it ?" Molly felt for it at 
her neck where it often hung by the strings, but 
it was not there, neither did it seem to be on the 

" Shall I look for it at the end of the avenue ?" 
provokingly whispered her brother over her shoul- 
der, as he followed her into the kitchen. 

" No, I will get it myself," she said, suddenly 
catching his curls in both hands and shaking him 
till he cried for mercy — 

" Enough, enough, oh, let me go, I will never 
say another word, and will be just as fond of Ros. 
Gordon as possible. Where has she gone now ? 
I thought that would please her," he exclaimed 
in an injured tone, for Molly had fled into her 
own room and left him alone. 

"Well, girls are certainly curious," he re- 
marked to himself as he went into the back shed 
to inspect a squirrel he had lately picked up in 
the swamp. It had fallen and broken its leg, 
and, although John had shot many of these little 


animals for food, when an injured one came into 
liis hands he could not help bringing it home to 
cure and tame it, both of which processes it seemed 
to appreciate fully. 

In following the fortunes of Rosco Gordon we 
will not go into any more detail than that suffi- 
cient to make our readers understand the feeling 
which animated these earnest supporters of the 
Christian spirit of love and peace ; a spirit too 
long ignored by the churches professing to uphold 
the j)riiiciples of Christ in every respect. Now 
that the most learned Bishop of the Established 
Church in England has taken up the standard of 
Peace, those ministers of the Gospel who laugh at 
"Quaker doctrine" may well look into their 
own hearts and see what they are doing to pre- 
pare men for the reign of the Prince of Peace. 
What we would like to show in this story of 
the civil war, is that those who walked in the 
light of Christ's teachings willingly suffered for 
their principles, and were not mistaken in their 

Rosco Gordon was sent first to Raleigh, and 
from thence to Weldon, where he was summoned 
at once to drill, with a warning of his liability to be 


shot if he decUned to obey orders. He steadily re- 
fused to bear arms, and was in consequence placed 
in close confinement in a room with three other 
men whom he found to be prisoners of war, cap- 
tured some months before and daily hoping for 
an exchange that would send them back to their 

It did not take Rosco very long to make ac- 
quaintance with his new companions. 

" May I ask what you are here for ?" said one 
of the three men, a young officer, to him soon, 
after Rosco had been placed among them. '* You 
are a Southerner, I think ?" 

" I am a Southerner, and a Christian ; and 
believing from the bottom of my heart that Chris- 
tians should not fight, I am here for disobedience 
to the order to bear arms." The officer looked at 
him curiously, pausing in his slow walk up and 
down the room. 

" Why do you think Christians should not 
fight?" he asked, "I am from Boston and have 
seen a good many people, but I never met any one 
before who held those views." 

Gordon smiled at the unconscious assumption^ 
and replied. 


" I think there are those who hold these views 
even in Boston." 

" What do you ground them on ? Will you 
tell me, if you do not mind?" He stopped his 
steady promenade and sat down on the bed beside 
Gordon. " Some of the rest of you gentlemen can 
take a turn now, we can't all walk at once, and 
yet we do need exercise in this cramped hole." 

" Thank you, Warren ; don't put your long 
legs out too far then, you're not on the Harvard 
campus ; I don't want to fall over you, and a fel- 
low can't get around much in this sized apart- 
ment," replied a tall fair-haired man, getting up 
promptly and beginning a regular tramj), tramp, 
over the bare floor. " I was raised in the west, 
and these accomodations seem rather limited." 

"Are the houses in the west bigger than 
anywhere else, Logan ?" asked a little black-eyed 
fellow stretched on an adjoining bed, for chairs 
were scarce in these quarters. 

" Judging from the size of this, I should say 
they were. Oh, I'd like to have a look at our old 
home again." 

" Don't stretch your arms out that way, Lo- 
gan ; you will lift the roof off." 


" I wish I could ! Anything to get out of this 
weary, weary confinement." 

" Don't think about it," said Lieutenant War- 
ren. " Talk of something else, Mr. Gordon — I 
think you said that was your name ? — will you 
tell me what 3^our views are and what you found 
them upon ?" 

" Certainly, if you care to listen ; tell me 
though when you are tired." 

" We are tired all the time ; it is only finding 
a new way of being tired that refreshes us," re- 
plied Warren, sitting up on the bed and leaning 
against the wall. 

And now let me say that if the reader wishes 
to skip a discussion the like of which might have 
been heard many a time and oft in these little 
prison rooms, he is entirely welcome to do so. 

'' Of course, if you are willing to endanger 
your life for Christ's teachings, you must believe 
in tlie divine authority of His words ? " began the 

" That seems to be a logical deduction," re- 
plied Gordon, smiling. 

" I am a Unitarian," was the next rather ir- 
relevant remark of Warren's, " I don't know that 


I quite admit the authority of the Bible on all 
points. I certainly do not accept the doctrine of 
the atonement, though I do believe in God. It 
seems to me we must ' work out our own salvation 
in fear and trembling.' " 

" Do you quote that as a rule to live by ? " 
asked Gordon. 

" Yes ; I think we might take that as one of 
God's laws." 

" Do you agree to the verse immediately pre- 
ceding it ? " 

" What is it ? I don't remember." 

" ' Remember,' that's a good one," said the lit- 
tle black -eyed fellow, 8otto voce. 

" ' That every tongue should confess that Jesus 
Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father,' " 
quoted Gordon, taking no notice of the remark 
made by the young fellow whom his comrade 
called " Cully." 

" No, I don't think we could say that," re- 
turned young AVarren. 

" Will you tell me how you distinguish be- 
tween the authority of two verses in such close 
juxtaposition?" asked Gordon. "Would you, in 
studying law, resj^ect a book in which you would 

WEL D ON J A IL. 193 

take one clause as sound and throw over the one 
next to it as a fanciful saying ? " 

" No, certainly not," said the lieutenant. 

"Then why should you do it with the Bible ? " 

" There are so many different interpretations 
of the Bible, it would seem as if God could not 
have inspired it," was the lieutenant's rather evas- 
ive answer ; then he added, " one of our clergymen 
has said, ' Once settle the undoubted authenticity 
of the Bible, and Evangelical Christianity is 
proved.' " 

" Most people have tried to settle it by inter- 
pretation instead of authentication, which is im- 
possible, I think. Only facts can settle anything, 
and by facts alone can the Bible be authenticated." 

" It seems to me," said AVarren, " that if the 
Bible is ever authenticated it must be in the same 
way that as other documents, by something out- 
side of itself To prove the validity of a docu- 
ment by its own contents is like trying to identify 
a man by his own testimony." 

"Kuenen says, 'The Hebrew religion is just 
one of the great religions of the world, no less, but 
no more,' " remarked Logan, bringing his tall fig- 
ure to a stop before the two speakers. 


" Do 3^ou believe that," asked Gordon. " One 
of our famous New England writers says the same 
thing, but it seems to me the moral condition of 
the countries professing the other religions is an- 
swer enough to such a statement, if the writers 
are not wilfully l)lind." 

" I didn't say I believed it," said Logan, be- 
ginning his perambulations again, " if any other 
fellow wants to walk, just let me know and I'll 

" Thank you, it gives me enough exercise just 
to see you go," remarked Cully. 

" Stop chaffing, boys," said Lieutenant War- 
ren, " I want to hear Gordon talk ; he seems to 
know how, and if he can convince me the Bible 
is what it pretends to be, I shall be honestly glad." 

" Our noble lieutenant has spoken," replied 

" I can give you proofs, I think," said Rosco 
Gordon. " I do not know whether I can make you 
believe ; a man may be shown a bridge over an 
abyss, but unless he believes it will bear his weight 
he will never cross to the other side." 

"All right, show us your bridge, maybe it will 


" It bears me," was Gordon's earnest reply. 

"Aye, maybe to death," said Logan. 

" ' He is able to save to the uttermost,' " said 

"Tell me why you believe the Bible?" asked 
Lieutenant Warren, breaking the pause that fol- 
lowed Gordon's last response. 

" If a document be authenticated, it must be 
done by establishing its facts and not by any in- 
terpretation of its teaching. All the philosophies 
of men must fall when they come into conflict 
with a single fact. How the fall of an apple des- 
troyed the philosophy man had been building for 
years and years ! " 

" That's fair so far, but, now for your facts," 
said Warren. 

" In support of what I have been saying," 
Gordon went on, " take an illustration near home. 
The Declaration of Independence, unsupported by 
evidence outside of the instrument itself, is no 
evidence really that on July 4, 1776, the founders 
of this republic adopted that instrument. One 
ma}' make the historical statement, but its truth 
cannot be proved by the instrument alone. But 
don't you see that the whole American nation is 


witness to the fact ? Does not our very existence, 
our national celebration of the Fourth of July, tlio 
perpetuation of the festival from generation to 
generation, furnish the best possible proofs to the 
fact that the Declaration was made ?" 

" One can but admit a proof brought in that 
way," said Warren. 

" Now apply the same reasoning to the writ- 
ings of Moses. Are they not the constitution and 
statutes of a nation, — a nation still in existence, 
preserved (as it was stated in his time that they 
should be) in violation of every known law of 
nature ? The Jews have been scattered all over 
the world, allowed no citizenship for the first 
thirteen hundred years of the Christian era; 
neither were they permitted to hold property for 
that time; a fact also foretold. Their former 
habits and pastoral occuj)ations were broken w^. 
It was prophesied they should deal in gold and 
silver and costly apparel. Look at them now, still 
engaged as money lenders and trading in ready- 
made clothing." A smile passed over the faces 
of his hearers, as Rosco Gordon stopped a moment. 

" The parallel is certainly an allowable one,"' 
said Lieutenant Warren. 


" And now," Gordon continued, " after two 
thousand years of this world-wide dispersion, 
wherever you meet them you still see them eating 
the Feast of the Passover in commemoration of 
their flight out of Egypt." 

" How do you knoAv, however, that God told 
Moses to do the thing he did?" asked Warren, 
" Do you suppose he told Moses how to write the 
Constitution ?" 

" I suppose He did," was Gordon's prompt 
reply, " No other government had ever been in- 
stituted like it ; the sole idea of government at that 
time was kingly. That of Moses was a republic, 
and that of our own is curiously like it. I believe 
no other government but his and ours will allow 
naturalization of foreigners ; they also refuse, as 
we do, to let an alien occupy the principal posi- 
tion in the government. In the old law^s at New 
Haven there is a record ' that not having any 
laws of our own at present, we will be governed 
by those of Moses.' " 

" Where did you go to college, Gordon, may I 
ask ?" said Warren. 

" I had three years at Yale." 

" Well, I did not mean to interrupt you. Do 


you think human testimony could establish the 
facts that Moses really did the wonderful acts re- 
corded of him ?" 

" If human testimony can be taken at all as 
evidence, I should suppose it did evince it here. 
A whole nation gave evidence, set up monuments, 
and better than all perhaps, has involuntarily 
carried out the prophesies made concerning it. 
But I cannot tell you half the evidences, study it 
for yourself." 

" I will," said Lieutenant Warren, " if ever I 
get out of this den. Such experiences as one has 
in war, makes a man want to know what his faith 
in a future existence is founded on." 

" Have you ever read the Bible through, 
Lieutenant?" asked Logan, who had ceased his 
walk and stretched himself out on his bed. 

" No, I can't say I have." 

" Better begin now ; I dare say Gordon has 
one," suggested Cully. 

" If it would make me as happy as he looks 
I don't know but what I would," responded the 

" Moses' laws are essentially in advance of 
some of ours," said Gordon, going back to his 


subject. " Blackstoiie says that ' some of our laws 
are still pagan.' " 

"But why do people interpret the Bible so 
differently? It seems to me to invalidate its 
testimony," said Warren. 

" Do you think the American Constitution is 
invalidated because the North and vSouth gave it 
different interpretations?" asked Gordon. 

" No indeed," exclaimed Warren, "the grand 
old government is as good as ever." 

" Yet the Southerners, many of them, hon- 
estly believe they have the right, under its laws, 
to secede ; they have interpreted the writings dif- 
ferently," replied Gordon. 

" And made an awful lot of trouble," said 

" So has the other," said Gordon, " and the 
trouble is not nearly over yet." 

" What do you think of the resurrection of 
Christ? Of course if He rose. He must be more 
than a man," asked Warren, starting a new sub- 
ject of discussion. 

" There is the evidence of twelve men to rest 
it upon, eleven of whom were his bosom friends, 
and all but one died in the attestation of the Di- 
vinity of Christ and His resurrection." 


" They had been taught to look for His resur- 
rection ; might they not have been deceived ?" 
suggested the lieutenant. 

" On the contrary, they really looked for it so 
little, that it was hard to make them believe it at 
all when He did rise. They had not taken His 
words as really meaning anything, did not really 
believe Him as much as the old officials did who 
set a seal upon the tomb. The apostles gave up 
the whole thing when He died, and went away 
sorrowfully, saying : ' We trusted that it had been 
He which should have redeemed Israel.' That 
He was not in the tomb when Mary went there, 
the guard of a hundred soldiers testified, and were 
bribed to hold their tongues. They believed He 
had risen. What other fact so testified to would 
not be accepted by the whole world ? " 

" When a new hieroglyphic was found in 
Assyria some years ago," remarked Logan, " four 
men were set to decipher it, and when they had 
all given translations that agreed with one another 
it was taken to be the right thing. By such testi- 
mony are facts taken." 

" Men often die for their opinions," said War- 
ren, following out his own thoughts. 


" The apostles had no opinion about it ; they 
did not testify to an opinion, but to a fact," re- 
phed Gordon. 

" Certainly to a belief that it was a fact," re- 
plied the lieutenant. Gordon went on, bringing 
up another point as testimony. 

" What country has ever advanced to such 
civilization as those holding the Christian relig- 
ion? The Chinese discovered gunpowder and 
have never used it except in firecrackers; they 
discovered the magnet, and never has a junk of 
theirs crossed the sea unless it was towed by a 
Christian ship. For two thousand years, except a 
country has had Christianity introduced into it, 
no progress has been made. And even those who 
deny Christ in Christian lands, live so in the light 
reflected from His teachings that they catch a 
good deal of it and think it comes from them- 

" Some people say that man is God's revela- 
tion," remarked Warren, half to himself. 

"And this revelation has produced but one 
perfect man in eighteen hundred years, according 
to their own showing." 

" Then you don't think God will accept us for 


our own good intentions, and our efforts to do 
right?" querried Warren. 

" It makes very little difference what I think," 
rej)lied Gordon, " it is what the Bible teaches, 
and if you can show me that the preponderance 
of its testimony is to that effect, I shall be sur- 
prised. Salvation is everywhere spoken of in the 
Bible as a ' gift,' something that cannot be earned. 
' The gijt of God is eternal life,' ' not as was 
the offence, so is also the jree gijV, and so on all 

" ' Not by works of righteousness which we 
have done, but according to His mercy He saved 
us,' and again, ' for by grace are ye saved through 
faith, not of works lest any man should boast,' " 
came in Logan's voice from the other side of the 
room ; Cully sat up. 

"Are you a preacher ? Often been on a cir- 
cuit?" he asked. 

" I might be a better man than I am if that 
had been my profession," was the calm response, 
" Go on, Gordon, tell us some more." 

" The whole New Testament is tuned to the 
key of redemption, and if a man can gain his own 
immunity from sin he needs no redemption." 


" Don't you think the world is growing bet- 
ter?" asked Lieutenant Warren. 

"I certainly do think it is in many ways; 
never at any time have there been as many edu- 
cational advantages, never as many sensible ways 
of ameliorating the condition of the lower classes. 
Men of culture and intellect spend large portions 
of their time in finding out how best to deal with 
social problems, and living in the radiance of a 
Christian civilization they forget where the light 
comes from. They think that it comes from a high 
cultivation, but its true sources of life are obscured 
and forgotten if not dead in them. There is in 
South America a beautiful moss that fastens itself 
upon a live, vigorous tree, gradually covering it 
with an exquisite velvety green growth, but by the 
time the tree is enveloped in this moss the chance 
of a better life is gone, for the tree is practically 
dead. The name of this moss is ' Matabe,' mean- 
ing murder." 

" You don't despise culture ? " asked Warren. 

" No, no, indeed ; don't misunderstand me 
that way. We need all we can get ; every faculty 
we have ought to be brought to its highest per- 
fection ; all the beauty we can gather around us. 


all the grace and charm we can exert, the Master 
wants us to use it all in bringing souls into His 
kingdom. "When we meet Him we do not want 
to enter His presence empty handed; don't we 
always want to take something to one we love? 
His work is going to be done in the world, it is 
surely our loss if we are left out." 

" I believe in appealing to a man's sense of 
self-respect to induce him to act rightly," said the 

" So do I, when he has any. Do you remem- 
ber where Hawthorne makes one of his characters 
say almost precisely what you have just said? 
And the answer given to this man of the moral- 
reform hobby is, 'just wait till you have committed 
some great crime and see what a condition your 
moral perceptions are in.' But I have talked too 
long and very likely made you wdsh you had not 
started me. Logan, sing us a song, won't you ? " 

"What will you have?" responded the big 
Westerner. " I'd rather hear you talk." 

" ' Tramp, tramp, tramp, the boys are march- 
ing,'" suggested Cully. 

" Not that," interfered Warren, " it partakes 
too much of a satire." 


"All right; then 'Good-night, farewell, my 
own sweetheart,' or ' The girl I left behind me,' 
ah, that touches Gordon ! " continued Cully, quick 
to see the shade that darkened the bright hazel 
eye of the young Southerner, " Cheer up old fel- 
low, you'll see her again." 

"Don't tease, Cully," said Warren, "there 
comes the stuff they call supper." 




The next morning, just before the hour for 
drill, two soldiers entered the room where Gordon 
was lodged with his three friends, for by this time 
they merited that name, and briefly saying : " You 
are wanted," signified to Gordon that he was to go 
with them. His three companions glanced at 
each other apprehensivel}^ ; Rosco rose to his feet 
and shaking hands with them, simply said : 

*' Good-b}^, fellows, I may see you all again, 
and — I may not." 

They remained silent a moment looking at 
the door which closed upon him and then Cully, 
as usual, was the first to break the silence. 

" What do you suppose they mean to do with 
him?"" he asked. 

" Make him drill, and if he refuses, shoot 
him," was Logan's rather grim reply. 

" They won't make him drill," said Warren. 


" I never saw a face in which so much sweetness 
and determination were combined," 

" Look, look, there he is ! " exclaimed Cully, 
from the little window where he had stationed 
himself, they could overlook the parade-ground, 
though from too great a distance to hear easily 
what was going on. There stood the soldiers, in 
faded gray uniforms, formed in line ready for the 
morning's exercise. Gordon stood a little in front 
of the line opi30site the captain, a big, burly Ger- 
man, much rougher than a native-born Southerner 
would have been. Warren, Logan and Cully, 
watching with strained attention from their win- 
dow, saw the captain hold out a musket to Gordon, 
apparently ordering him to take it. Gordon made 
no motion to obey, evidently from his gesture of 
dissent he was refusing. 

"Oh, why won't he take it?" exclaimed 
Cully, " what a fool he is." 

" He is no fool, nor a muflf either," said Logan. 

" His favorite Hawthorne says, ' The greatest 
obstacle to being heroic is the doubt whether one 
may not be going to prove one's self a fool ; the 
truest heroism is to resist that doubt.' Gordon has 
passed the doubting period," said Warren, looking 


out across the bare field at the troops, " he is more 
of a hero tlian any man I ever met, and I can do 
nothing to help him in this emergency," the last 
words escaping him almost like an unconscious 
moan as he turned from the window and restlessly 
paced up and down the room. 

" Oh, Warren, they have tied his arms behind 
him and stood him by himself," cried Cully again. 

" Confound them all," ejaculated Logan, leav- 
ing the window and then going back, sickened by 
the apprehension of seeing a murder and yet too 
facinated to stay away. Erect and graceful stood 
the slight young figure ; no sign of fear or shrink- 
ing did they see, no movement even when the six 
men were called out' from the ranks and ordered 
to level their rifles at him, only a look upward 
and apparently a motion of the lips, but the men 
did not fire ; after an instant's hesitation every one 
let the muzzle of his weapon fall to the ground. 
The captain stamped and with angry gesture or- 
dered them again to fire on the solitary figure with 
its indefinable attitude of waiting. Cully covered 
his face and shivered, listening for the shots. 

" Why do7\!t they fire," he exclaimed, " it is 


" By jove, they M'on't !" exclaimed Logan, as 
again the Southern soldiers lowered their muskets 
and stood still. The captain in a rage pulled out 
his pistol and aimed it at one of the six men, it 
missed fire and he flung it on the ground, com- 
manding them to shoot in so furious a voice that 
the angry tones reached the ears of our three 
watching friends. Two of the men raised their 
rifles for the third time, but suddenly threw them 
down and turning rejoined the ranks, followed by 
the other four men. An irrepressible cheer broke 
from the little window where the three Northerners 
stood and Gordon turned his head in their direc- 
tion, evidently recognizing the sympathy ex- 
pressed. Two soldiers then went up and led Gor- 
don away to the rear of the barracks, and the cap- 
tain sulkingly gave orders to go on with the drill. 

" He'll see the girl he left behind him, yet," 
exclaimed Cully, cutting a pigeon wing. " It is 
lucky our guard has gone to breakfast, or they'd 
make us pay for our hurrah." 

" Be still, Cully, how you do go on !" said 
Warren, who could not as easily throw off the 
feeling of horror at the scene he had just wit- 


" He is safe this time, but we do not know 
what will happen next." 

" The ]\Iaster he serves is no weak one," said 
Logan's deliberate voice; " 'he is abundantly able 
to save.' " 

"And Gordon seems to trust Him entirely. 
Seeing such faith as his ; believing, j^et not igno- 
rant, or perhaps believing because not igno- 
rant, is more convincing than all the theories or 
arguments in the world," and Warren resumed 
his thoughtful walk up and down his narrow 

None of the three ever saw Rosco Gordon 
again for he was kej^t in separate confinement till 
sent to another regiment. So our lives meet, and 
run beside each other a little space, and separate 
again ; and whether we have used our oj)portuni- 
ties for good or evil may never be known on this 
side of Heaven. 

Instances of the kind related in these chapters 
occurred over and over again in the experience 
of Friends during the war. The men refused to 
carry out the orders of their captains, saying they 
could not shoot or maltreat such unresisting men 
as these Quakers, who would uphold their princi- 


pies even unto giving up of life. The officers 
would not perpetrate cruelties themselves which 
yet they ordered their men to inflict, and though 
at times some Friends did suffer, yet they were 
marvellously preserved. But why do we say ' mar- 
vellously ?' For has He not promised ? And is 
He not able to perform? Others were shot for 
disobedience to orders, but no Quaker lost his life. 
Not knowing what to do with these men who con- 
scientiously refused to obey orders, the officers 
were glad to transfer them from regiment to regi- 
ment, preferring to put the responsibility on some 
one else, who- in his turn would pass it on again. In 
this M^ay it happened that Rosco Gordon was sent 
to the regiment to which James Haydock had 
been ordered when he was taken away from 
Petersburg, soon after the events described in our 
previous chapters. 

It was on the eve of a battle that Rosco ar- 
rived in camp with the fresh reinforcements sent 
to strengthen the Southern army against the 
Northern battalions, now closing in fast around 
them. A few months more would see the end of 
the long struggle. Rosco had been left very much 
to himself since we saw him last, as the colonel 


of his regiment was too busy to attend to him, and 
besides he did not care to come into conflict with 
the wilUng, active young fellow who was always 
ready to do a good turn for every one. The morn- 
ing after he arrived in camp, a soldier he knew 
called to him. 

" Rec'on there's one of j'-our kind in that tent 
there. I was loafing round last night, and caught 
sight of him." 

Gordon immediately went to the tent indi- 
cated. He saw a tall figure lying on a blanket 
and approached with a pleasant " Good-morn- 

" Rosco Gordon, surely," was the quick excla- 
mation as James Haj^dock sprang to his feet. 

" Oh, Mr. Haydock, how glad, how very glad, 
I am to see you ; how I liave hoped to find you," 
the older man was holding his hand and gazing 
intently at him. 

" They are all well at home," went on Rosco, 
seeing he could not speak. " Sit down, ]\Ir. Hay- 
dock, you do not look well ; you have had a weary 
time of it, haven't you ?" 

" It has been hard to bear at times, but the 
Lord has never forsaken, and many a time has 


enabled me to be of use to others. How did thee 
get here, and not in uniform ?" 

" I am here for the same reasons you are, Mr. 
Hay dock, and on account of those reasons do not 
bear arms," said the young man, smihng. 

"What about thy father? Does he think 
with thee ?" asked James Haydock, with no evi- 
dence of surprise. 

" Oh, he does not agree with me entirely and 
is making every effort to raise the wherewithal for 
the Exemption tax. I objected, but of course I 
cannot control his actions. Poor father, it was 
very hard to leave him and harder to know how 
he felt about not having money enough to pay 
the tax." 

" Thee said all my family were well and not 
suffering?" James Ha3^dock asked, his thoughts 
returning to those he loved best. 

" All well, and with enough to eat and to 
wear ; John as merry as a cricket ; Mrs. Haydock 
naturally very anxious about you, but keeping up 
a brave heart. I wish you were with her," he 
added, noting how much grayer the dark hair 
had become, how thin the brown cheek was, and 
how deep the hollows about the dark blue eyes. 


A sudden fear took possession of him that the hard 
life was telling sorely on the strength of James 
Haydock, and that he might not be able to bear 
it much longer. " Oh, if he can only live to get 
home !" was the prayer that rose in his heart. 

" I wish so indeed," said James Haydock, in 
answer to Rosco's last remark. 

" Mr. Haydock, why don't you go North, if 
you can get through ?" asked Gordon. 

" Run away," queried the older man. 

" There is no running away about it," said 
Gordon. " You believe in and uphold the Union \ 
you are with troops who don't think as you do^ 
and why are you bound to stay with wdiat you 
consider the wrong side ? Your health is failing ; 
are you doing any good to your country staying 
here ? Will you not do more in saving yourself 
to build uj) the country after the war is over ?" 

" I have thought that perhaps my time with 
the army was over," replied James Haydock. 
" But I do not like going to live in quiet in the 
North, while my family is suffering privation in 
the old home." 

" Your family would be only too glad to know 
you were safe ; it would take away their heaviest 


burden," and he told him of what Frances Hay- 
dock had said, adding " no man is bound to throw 
his life away unless the Lord clearly shows it is 
His will. Do you think He wants you to stay 
here yet ?" 

" No, I do not ; there has been lately a 
pointing in the other direction. If I could get to 
the North and send down supplies for those suffer- 
ing at home, I believe it would be right to do so." 
He sat in deep thought which Rosco did not dis- 
turb, knowing liow the Quakers trusted to the 
leading of the Spirit, and how careful they were 
to do nothing important unless they felt that 
same guidance. 

Outside, in the camp all was bustle and con- 
fusion ; in one little tent there was silence and an 
earnest seeking for God's leading. Upon this 
silence broke the heavy sound of cannon, fol- 
lowed by the scream and bursting of shells ; the 
battle had begun. Presently a corporal looked 
into their tent, saying, 

" Every man to his company ; if you don't go 
I'll have you sent for, shortly," and he disap- 
peared. Four other soldiers came in a few min- 
utes and our friends were separated and placed in 


different parts of the field. From his place near 
the front Rosco Gordon saw through the smoke 
and cloud of the conflict, a tall figure which he 
at once recognized, walk deliberately out from the 
Confederate ranks and quietly cross the field amid 
the rain of bullets. Gordon held his breath, his 
heart one prayer to God. A momentary cessation 
seemed to come in the quick volleys, and before 
they began again the familiar form had reached 
unhurt the Federal side, passed to the rear of the 
crowding troops, and Rosco Gordon knew that 
James Hay dock was in all human probability be- 
yond the reach of further danger. 

But the Quakers were misunderstood in some 
parts of the north as well as in the south, and 
James Haydock was sent to Fort Delaware as 
prisoner of war. He was detained there some 
time till the authorities in Washington were noti- 
fied of his imprisonment, when he was promptl}^ 
released and allowed to join his children in Phila- 
delphia, some of whom had already gone to Nor- 
folk to obtain tidings from their parents, or if 
possible to get through the lines to aid them. 
This was not practicable, however, until after 
Richmond had fallen. 

JINGO. 217 



More monotonous now than ever were the 
days to Molly and her mother. ]\Ir. Gordon 
brought them word that his wife was very ill, 
seeming to have prolonged spells of weakness 
which were hard to relieve. 

" She worries after Rosco all the time, we do 
miss him so much," he said one day. " Miss 
Molly, you miss his help too, don't 3'ou ? Have 
you plenty of wood ? There always seems to be a 
fire here." 

" Yes, thank j^ou, we have a good supply of 
wood. Father always kept some piled up to dry, 
and then for small wood and cones, John and I go 
to the swamp, where there are quantities." 

" Is it not a good way to go ? " asked the old 
gentleman, laying his hand on the girl's head. 

" Oh no, I like the walk and it keeps me busy ; 
it is not good to stay at home and think too much." 


"No, that it is not ; but think about Rosco, 
won't you, and pray he may get home safely," he 
said wistfully, " I have a deal of faith in your and . 
your mother's prayers." 

" That is not a hard thing to do, Mr. Gordon," 
said Molly softly, a faint blush stealing over her 
cheek ; he smiled at her, having some understand- 
ing of how matters were and yet not knowing 
quite what had passed between " the young folks.'^ 
But the smile was rather sad, and faded away en- 
tirely as he turned to Frances Haydock. 

" Could you come over and sj)end the night 
with Mrs. Gordon, do you think ? It is a good 
deal to ask, I know, Mrs. Ha3'dock, but you do 
seem to comfort her so much and she longs for a 
woman about. Rosco was just like a daughter in 
some ways, and yet a fine manly fellow too." 

" Molly, would thee be afraid to stay alone 
with John," said Frances Haydock, turning to her 

" No, indeed, mother, no one will hurt us and 
there is certainly nothing to attract burglars." 

" I think I might leave them, and if it is any 
comfort to thy dear wife, I am more than willing 
to go." 

JINGO. 21» 

" Can you ride pillion, madam ? I might 
have brought the buggy, but it is so rickety. My 
horse is quiet enough, he doesn't get any corn 
now-a-days, poor fellow, to frisk on." 

" I have ridden double before," said Frances 
Haydock, smiling a little as the recollection of 
her early days came back to her mind. So Mr. 
Gordon carried the sweet-faced Quakeress slowly 
on his horse along the avenue, and many a visit 
did she make afterward in like manner, taking 
comfort and peace to the weary heart of poor Mrs. 

" Molly, come take a walk, I want something 
to do, and the squirrel will do nothing but sleep,'* 
said John. 

" He is making up for last night," replied 
Molly, " He raced up and down the old clock and 
dropped chestnuts about till I thought he would 
never grow tired. I swept up a regular little heap 
of the shells this morning." 

" The carvings on the clock make a good lad- 
der for him. Did thee see what a jolly little nest 
he has made on the top of the clock between those 
two clover leaf things that curve over toward 
each other ? " 


" No, has he ? " said Molly looking up at the 
dark scroll-work surmounting the broad-faced 
moon that kept smiling watch over the slow tick- 
ing hours. " It is fortunate our clock winds at 
the back instead of the top, as many do." 

" Yes," said John, " bunny might interfere 
with the works in that case." 

" Let us take thy wagon and bring home some 
light wood ; ours is giving out." John had con- 
cocted a marvellous wagon some three feet long 
and two wide, and set it on four still more re- 
markable wheels, whose broad tires were planned 
with a view to easy going over the sandy roads. 
It held quite a quantity of cones or bits of light 
wood, and was much less fatiguing than a bag 
slung over the shoulder. INIolly crossed a red 
cashmere shawl over her breast, knotting it be- 
hind, and covering her dusky hair with a blue 
riding cap, pronounced herself ready for a tramp. 

" Did thee find that red thing in the chest up- 
stairs? " asked her brother, surveying her approv- 
ingly. "Thee looks like a vivandiere;" and in 
truth the dark blue and red suited Molly's hair 
and eyes remarkably well. A keen November 
wind was blowing as they walked rapidly along 

JINGO. 221 

the road to the swamp, and Molly's cheeks were 
as rosy as her brother's when they reached the 
spot, quite a mile in from the entrance to the 
tangled morass, where they found the light wood 
in greatest abundance. 

In some of the many marches of the different 
armies through this region, fires had been kindled, 
and large tracts of timber burnt along the road ; 
the blackened tree-trunks, rising dismally from 
the cinder-covered ground, gave a look of indes- 
cribable dreariness to the scene. The fire which 
swept over this desolate country had, however, left 
the cypress boles untouched, and they gleamed 
like white spectres amid the blasted vegetation 
that stretched as far as eye could reach. 

The days were growing frosty, A glaze of 
ice was even now forming upon many of the little 
pools, shooting clear needle-like crystals over the 
motionless black water. All the summer birds 
had gone south, and nothing stirred in the swamp 
except a black turkey-buzzard slowly flapping 
its way along the canal. It perched on a 
crooked tree not far from where Molly and John 
stood and watched them askance. Molly shud- 


''Come John, hurry and fill the wagon, I 
don't like this place, it is lonely." 

" It is not remarkably cheerful," answered her 
brother, " especially on a cloudy afternoon." He 
went quickl,y to work with his sister and they 
soon filled the little Avagon to overflowing. 

" Now that's enough. Hey, oh look, there 
comes some darkies, or rather they don't come, 
they are standing still, let's go and see what is the 
matter? " said John. The group of negroes indi- 
cated were gathered around some object that lay 
on the ground a few yards distant. On going 
nearer, Molly saw that a little boy about ten years 
old was stretched along the roadside seemingly too 
weak to go any further ; the older ones regarded 
him with much perplexity. 

" Is he sick ? " asked John, addressing an old 
man whose shaggy gray brows almost hid the lit- 
tle black eyes beneath them, 

" Yes sail, he be bery sick, an' what to do fo' 
it, sah, is pas' my compre'nsion. Spec' sum 'un 
ought'er tote 'im, but it ain't bery easy fur to do 
dat, an' none on us air mighty strong now." He 
shivered in the cool wind. 

John did not think they were very strong, in- 

JINGO. 223 

deed; three women, this old man and the boy 
formed the httle party going to " de Norf," as they 

" Who does he belong to ? " asked Molly, 

" Don't 'long to nobody, missus ; bofe his fader 
an' modder lef 'im mo' dan a year back," replied 
one of the women, " an' I tuk care on 'im, an' 'e 
was allers a 'bliging little pickaninny, dat I will 
say fo' 'im, but I tink 'e dun fo' now." 

" He's dun walked 'long right bravely," said 
the old man, speaking again, " but de fever's tuk 
'im an I reckon 'e's a dyin'," The little fellow lay 
quietly, only putting one thin hand under his 
pinched cheek as if the road felt hard ; the pecul- 
iar ashy gray tint that comes to a sick negro had 
spread over his small visage and the black eyes 
looked dull ; he showed no wish to move, except 
when the buzzard flapped its wings once or twice, 
as if intending flight, and then settled down again 
on its black perch. A look of apprehension crept 
into the boy's eyes as he saw the ugly bird and he 
tried to say something. 

" What is it," said Molly stooping over him 
to catch the faint words. 

" Don' let 'im git at me 'fo' I die." 


" Molly's eyes filled with tears as she turned 
to her brother, who, understanding her unspoken 
thought, impulsively tipped the wood out of his 
little wagon. 

" Bless you," he said, *' he shan't get you, 
dead or alive; we'll take you home with us." 
Molly nodded and John brought the wagon close- 
to the boy. 

" May we take him home ? " she said to one 
of the women. 

" May de Lawd bless yo'; it's a mighty kind 
thing to do now. Jingo, will yo' go wid de young 
Missis ? " 

Jingo slowly brought his failing eyes round 
to Molly, and whispered, " Yes." 

Molly untwisted her red shawl, spread it 
in the wagon, and the old man laid the child 
gently upon it. John took off his jacket and 
covered the little fellow. 

" Oh, don' do dat, you will all take col'," re- 
monstrated the woman. John laughed. " Exer- 
cise will keep us warm, and he needs it more than 
we do." 

" Did you call him Jingo ?" said Molly. 

" Yes, missis, he dun call his se'f dat. Good- 

JINGO. 225 

bye, Jingo, I trus' de Lawcl will make yo' well bye 
un bye," and the woman stroked the curly hair 
off the hot forehead. 

" Come, John, it is getting dark and cold • 
good-bye, uncle," Molly said to the old man as she 
turned away. 

" Good-bye, good-bye, God bless yo'." 

" I wonder where they will sleep to-night ?" 
said John looking back at the group of tired rag- 
ged negroes bearing their scanty parcels of food 
and clothing with them. They walked slowly 
along the gray road, on and on, beside the dark 
sluggish canal creeping between interminable 
miles of blackened and ruined trees. The buz- 
zard rose and flew slowly away into the gathering- 
shadows. Poor souls ! many of them found the 
north cold and forbidding, and quite devoid of the 
glorious halo with which their fancy had sur- 
rounded it. 

Moll}'" and John walked homeward as fast as 
their load permitted, Jingo lay very still curled 
up in the wagon ; John thought he was asleep, but 
when he stooped for a closer view the dull eyes 
met his with a little more intelligence in them 
than John had seen before. 



"Are you comfortable, Jingo ?" he asked. The 
parched httle Hj)s formed the word, " Yes," but so 
weakly that John and Molly 'Nvere thankful when 
they reached the house. Twilight had closed 
around them and Molly was shivering a little in 
sjoite of the active exercise she had taken. 

John carried the waif in and j^laced him on 
a thick comfortable that Molly laid before the 
fireplace. A match was applied to the jjile of 
cones, and soon there was a crackling fire, which 
Molly found most cheering with its dancing light. 

''He looks like a cone himself," remarked 
John surveying Jingo as he laid him down, " one 
of those long gray ones, doesn't he ?" Molly put 
a cushion under the limp little head, 

" Does that feel good. Jingo ?" she asked. 

" Yes," and the mite stretched his limbs out 
feebly. Molly smiled. 

" That stretch is a good sign ; there is life in 
him 3^et. Now I'll warm some milk for him." 

" Molly, I'll sleep on the settee to-night and 
watch him and keep up the fire," said John, much 
interested in their new acquisition, " he seems so 
comfortable where he is, don't thee think we had 
better leave him there ?" 

JINGO. 227 

" I think we will ; look, he is going to sleep," 
and indeed the warm milk and soft bed had much 
refreshed the weak, weary little frame, and sleep 
soon wrapped him in its kindly influences. Morn- 
ing found him much better ; and plenty of hoe- 
cake and milk with judicious doses of quinine for 
a few days set Jingo on his feet again so that he 
soon became a source of amusement to the family, 
out-rivalling even the squirrel. 

One afternoon about three weeks after Jingo 
had become a member of the Haydock family, 
Molly was in the kitchen mixing the bannock for 
supper. Jingo sat on the floor near the stove 
watching her movements with interest. 

" Jingo," she said, " can't you find me two or 
three more eggs in the barn ?" 

"Cracky, Miss Molly, but you scared me 
speakin' so onexpected, I was jess a feedin' dis 
yere greedy squirrel with ches'nuts an' now look, 
he's dun grabbed 'em all," and Jingo looked re- 
gretfully at a very big chestnut that Bunny was 
twisting and turning with the rapidity of a pres- 
tidigitateur, in his little pink claws. 

" You wanted that one yourself, didn't you, 
Jingo ?" asked Molly, laughing. " I wonder how 


many the squirrel has gotten anyway ? Come^ 
go look for the eggs." 

" Sartain," said Jingo, turning a summerset 
out of the kitchen door. The squirrel, startled by 
the sudden movement, stuffed the big nut in his 
cheek and scrambled up a branch of burning 
bush that ornamented the dresser. In a second 
or two Jingo returned, poi:)i3ing his head into the 
doorway with the anxious questions : 

" Do yere tink dat old hen's safe ?" 

"Safe? Why isn't she safe?" asked Molly, 
turning to look at the boy. 

" Safe to lay, I fancy he means," remarked 
John coming in at that minute, " is that it, 

" No, sah," answered Jingo, solemnly, " When 
I histed her tail feadders up yesterday to 'quire 
as to whedder she dun lay any eggs, she didn't 
'predate de pint an' 'cipitated herse'f into my 
face, screamin' nuff to brung all de sodgers right 
down 'pon us. I 'clare I was so s'prised I jess sot 
plum down on a heap o' hay." 

" And staj'^ed there a half an hour, I don't 
doubt," said Molly. " Jingo, if you don't get me 
some eggs right away, you shall not have any 
corncake for supper." 

JINGO. 229 

" Oh, my gracious, Miss Molly, yer won't say 
dat !" and the small black figure vanished before 
John had time to throw after him the cone he had 
picked up for that purpose. John laughed and 

" Jingo is getting spoiled, Molly." 

" Well, we'll unspoil him sometime ; he is 
young enough to be improved." 

Mrs. Haydock just then entered the kitchen. 

" Molly, here are two soldiers wanting some- 
thing to eat," she said. 

" Oh, dear, good-bye to my nice corn-bread. 
I have one beautiful panful just baked, and the 
eggs gave out for the rest ." 

" Hush, don't even suggest we have eggs," 
said John, "they will want our hens next; are 
they blue coats or gray, mother ?" 

" Gray," said his mother, taking the pan of 
golden brown corn-bread, and putting part of it 
on a plate which she carried into the living room. 
John took in the pot of chicory coffee, and a little 
pitcher of milk. 

" We may as well get it over and let them 
go," he remarked, making a wry face. Molly fol- 
lowed to keep him in order. 


" Milk, eh ?" said one of the men, " You must 
have a cow about, she'll be just the thing to carry 
back to our men ; after supper we'll go get her. 
Old, is she?" 

John looked despairingly at Molly, whose 
face had about as much expression in it as a snow 
image. No answer was returned to the men by 
any of the family, and presently John rose and 
was going softly out, when the bigger of the two 
soldiers spoke, 

" No, 5"ou don't ; just sit still, will you ? You 
shan't go and sneak that cow away where we 
can't find her. Don't any of you leave this room 
till we have searched the premises," and he drew 
his pistol out and laid it beside him. Jingo's 
small figure appeared just then at the kitchen 
door holding up a white egg in each little black 
hand ; luckily the soldiers were facing the other 
way and neither saw him, or Molly's swift warn- 
ing gesture to him not to speak ; comprehending 
the whole situation at a glance, the black sprite 
cut a noiseless pigeon wing and vanished as 
silently as he had come. The men w^ere leisurely 
in eating their supper, the lookers-on thought they 
would never finish and yet dreaded to see them 

JINGO. 231 

rise and go in search of the cows ; at last they 

"Come, comrade, we must get that cow be- 
fore it grows any darker ; you may come with us 
if you Hke," he said, turning to John, who hesi- 
tated and then rose, looking rather pale. 

" This is the way out to the backyard, I sup- 
pose," the man said, going out through the kitchen. 
"Your barn's burnt down, is it? Well, such 
things will happen ; oh, here's a little stable, I see," 
and he went toward it followed by John w^ho was 
rather surprised to see the door open. He had en- 
larged the little building in order to shelter the 
fodder they were able to collect from trampled 
fields of corn, and Mr. Gordon had given them a 
little hay. The men now proceeded to inspect the 
rather rickety structure. 

" Come now, where do you keep the cows," 
asked the man, roughly. 

" If you have any eyes, you can't help seeing 
them," returned John, hotly. 

" I don't see any nevertheless, there is nothing 
here but broken halters tied to the crib." Much 
puzzled, John went in and lifted the ends of the 
ropes, he gazed around the stable, certainly no 
animals were there. 


" I know no more about it than you do," he 
said, quietly turning to the men. 

" You look like you mean what you say," re- 
plied the man after looking at him a moment. 
" Well, fortune has favored you this time ; your 
cows are saved for the next fellow that comes 
along, but our men will go supperless to bed un- 
less some other of the foragers are more suc- 

" It is a poor country to forage in," returned 
John, his good humor restored by the absence of 
the cows. 

" You say true," returned the smaller of the 
men, " we don't wish to clean out the peoples' 
stock, but our men must have supplies." 

" It seems we don't get any here ; those cows 
may be miles away if they break their halters and 
clear out like that ; it is too dark to go after them 
now," and rather sulkily the man marched around 
the house and down the road followed by his com- 
panion, who, however, stopped to thank John for 
their supper. 

" I reckon your mother wouldn't care to see 
us again," he remarked, smiling. 

" I don't suppose she would," returned John. 

JINGO. 233 

He ran into the house, noticing casually as he 
passed, that a heap of brush piled up against the 
back of the house to dry, had tumbled down 
across the door which opened into a slanting pas- 
sage running into the cellar. The ground at the 
back of the house fell away from the front eleva- 
tion and quite a quantity of the brush had fallen, 
blocking the entrance completely. 

" I must put it Up again to-morrow," he 
thought, and then bursting into the house, ex- 

" Mother, the cows are gone." 

" The men have taken them ?" she asked, a 
little surprised at his tone. 

" No, no, I mean they have run away, they 
were not in the stable." 

"Not in the stable," cried ISIolly, "but 
how" — the cellar door opening into the living 
room quietly unlatched at this instant and the 
small black countenance of Jingo peered cau- 
tiously through. 

" Dem men gone ?" he inquired, taking a sur- 
vey of the room, and advancing into it as he saw 
no strangers were there. 

•' They are gone. Jingo," said John. 


" Didn't get de cows, did dey ?" 

"Did you let them out?" exclaimed John, a 
light breaking in on his mind, " you deserve a 
silver medal, Jingo, indeed you do ; but how far 
did you drive them ?" 

" Didn't drive 'em far, Massa John ; dey's in 
de sullar, tought dey's cotch cold bein' out all 
night," said the boy, going to the fire. 

" Why you're all wet, Jingo," said Molly, "just 

"Spec' I am, Miss Molly; Massa John did 
tell me part of de 'lantic ocean run troo de sullar, 
but I didn't honestly 'blieve him an' so I tumbled 
in. Goin' to 'blieve ebery single ting he tell me 
after dis." Jingo always had had rather a hor- 
ror of the dark cellar, which John encouraged, 
fearing he might be tempted to help himself to 
the milk which was kept there ; so he had never 
been in it before ; taking this horror into account, 
it was all the more laudable of Jingo to venture 
in to save the heifers. 

" Well, I suppose I had better get the cows 
out now, Did you put all that brush over the 
cellar door too. Jingo ?" 

" Yes, sah, it was mighty hard creepin' troo 

JINGO. 235 

to get de cows after dat, but I was so afeared dey 
would holler 'less some one was dere to talk to 

" Jingo, you're a treasure," said Molly. " Come 
now and get dried, you shall have a bit of sugar 
to-night," for a little, a very little lump sugar was 
still kept by Frances Haydock for great emer- 
gencies, like this. 




As the short winter days set in and many a 
cold storm of rain kept Molly from the walks that 
were such a relief to her anxious thoughts, the 
girl lost a little of the bright energy that had 
stood her in such good stead through this long 
time of trial. Nothing had been heard from 
either her father or Rosco Gordon for many 
weeks. From time to time accounts came to 
them of friends who had suffered more or less 
severely for their adherence to their peace princi- 
jDles. The families left at home were feeling the 
increased scarcity of provisions, and some, though 
unequal to the task, were compelled to walk eight 
or ten miles to the nearest town to get the rations 
served out to those who were in actual want. 
Corn-meal and potatoes still held out in Friend 
Haydock's dwelling, but it was monotonous 
fare. The discouraged hens, only two of which 
remained, gave ujd laying, probably hoping for 


better things in the spring, and although Molly 
did all she could for them, it was a pair of very 
hopeless looking chickens that sat with drooping 
tails on the top of the stalls when Molly went to 
milk the heifers. The supply of milk was visibly 
lessening, but Molly was thankful for what bless- 
ings they had and would occasionally share their 
meagre store with some neighbor more poverty 
stricken than themselves. 

Mrs. Gordon continued very ill, and became 
every day more anxious about her son, for although 
Mr. Gordon had succeeded in getting the money 
for the Exemption tax and had sent it to Rich- 
mond, Rosco had been exchanged into so many 
different regiments that it was difficult to find 
him, and as the Northern army pressed closer to 
Richmond, official service in that beautiful capital 
became more and more hurried and confused. 
Thus it came to pass that Mr. Gordon's efforts to 
procure his son's release seemed destined to be un- 
successful, and the chilling fear grew upon the 
father's mind that he might be too late, that 
already the bright form he loved so well might be 
filling an unmarked grave. This afternoon, late 
in December, INIoUy felt unusually depressed ; it 


had rained in torrents all day, and the irregular 
monotonous trickling of the water down the gut- 
ter on the porch roof was almost exasperating to 
Molly's despondent mood. She stood by the win- 
dow in the little alcove where her father had been 
wont to sit, and looked out over the beaten sand 
of the yard. Bunny perched discontentedly on 
the top of the old carved chair and let his long- 
tail hang straight down ; the rainy weather did 
not j)lease him at all, and j^erhaps, he missed his 
long winter naps, for it did not seem worth while 
to go to bed for several months when the air was 
nice and warm about him and nuts were plenty 
in the box under the table whenever he chose to 
go for them. It was a different social atmosphere 
from that to which he was accustomed, and who 
shall say whether it suited him or not ? 

Frances Haydock was sitting before the fire 
reading from some old volume. The spinning- 
wheel stood idle, for the spinning was all done, 
there was no more material to be obtained. All 
the cloth Frances Haydock could spare had been 
given to her poorer neighbors. Molly's wardrobe 
had grown so limited that one day she opened the 
old chest in the attic, and finding a partly worn 


dark red velvet dress, she fitted its rather scanty 
proportions to her slender figure. 

" Father's ancestors must have been fond of 
red," she remarked to her mother, the day she 
brought this gown down stairs. 

" They were not of our Society always," was 
the mother's response. " Indeed I think if I re- 
member rightly, that his grandfather joined the 
Friends from convincement." 

" Well, the color will not do me any harm, 
will it, mother? I mean does thee object to it?" 

" No, indeed, my daughter ; it is well thee has 
it to wear," said her mother, smiling and sighing 
together ; so Molly wore the old red velvet and 
John gave it his valuable approval. 

The drops continued to fall and the big logs 
in the fire-place burned quietly ; presently Molly 
broke the silence. 

" Mother, here is Mr. Gordon coming up the 
lane ; he has rigged up the old buggy. It must 
be something unusual to make him turn out on 
such a day as this. I wonder if he has heard 
anything of Rosco ? " 

Was he the bearer of evil tidings? .She ran 
out on the porch. 


" Is anything the matter, Mr. Gordon ? It is 
a rainy day to come out," she spoke cheerily in 
spite of her fears. 

" Mrs. Gordon is much worse to-day," he re- 
phed, getting cautiously out of the rickety vehicle. 
It made Molly sad to see how he had aged in the 
last two or three months ; he came up the steps 

" I was almost afraid to leave Mrs. Gordon, 
even for an hour, though there is an old darky i-n 
the house, but she did so long for Mrs. Haydock 
that I had to come over. Shall I carry you back 
with me ? " he asked. 

" Willingly ; I will be ready in a minute. I 
wish I could be of some real good to her," she 
said as she went to her room for wraps. Molly 
watched the horse's drooping head with the rain- 
drops running down the wet mane and dropping 
on to the ground. 

" Have you heard anything from your son ? " 
she asked presently. 

'' Nothing, nothing," he replied, " I begin to 
fear I never shall — " his voice choked, and he 
covered his eyes with his hand. 

" No, no, don't, Mr. Gordon, we shall surely 


hear something soon," said the girl, though her 
sweet tones shook a little, as she thought how the 
genial old man was changed by his long and 
heavy anxieties. 

" I am ready to start now," said Frances Hay- 
dock, returning with her light, swift step. 

" I can never thank you half enough for be- 
ing willing to come, ma'am," said Mr. Gordon, 
taking her hand and leading her down the steps 
with true Southern courtesy. Carefully he tucked 
her in, and Molly watched the crazy old carriage 
as it went slowly down the road and disappeared 
through the gray vista of dripping trees. 

" Miss Molly, whar all de watah in yere sullar 
come from ? " asked Jingo, as Moll}'' seated herself 
on a low stool in front of the fire. 

"A sj)ring opened there, Jingo, after the house 
was built, and grandfather laid some pipes to let 
the water run out into the garden, don't you 
know the place ? " 

" Yes'm. Den dar's no danger o' dis yere 
storm swellin' de tide ? " the sprite queried. 

" Oh no, did you think the water would come 

up here and drown us all out ? " 

" Did'n know, watah is mos' onaccountable 


'ting 'cassionabl}' , but I feel a heap better now you 
telied me dat ; Jingo don't like gittin' wet," and 
the little restless figure began a series of antics 
which much disturbed the squirrel, who rather 
seemed to class Jingo with the monkeys ; he had 
not studied Darwin, and therefore had drawn his 
conclusions from practical observations. It may, 
however, be doubted whether, had he known the 
theories of that most ingenious and wonderful 
man, the little quadruped would have believed in 
the survival of the fittest as, from the safe refuge 
of Molly's lap, he watched Jingo cutting pigeon 

" Molly, the kitchen roof is leaking," said 
John, as he came in from that room. I have put 
a bucket to catch the drops. Don't tumble over 
it when you go out there. And Jingo, don't you 
fall in ; you'll get drowned." 

" No, deedy, sah. Jingo ruther be dirty all de 
days, dan git inter a pail." 

" I believe you would," replied John, pulling 
the boy's wool gently. 

Supper was over, and John had gone to bed, 
professing that he was so tired doing nothing that 
he could not keep his eyes open. Molly knew, 


however, that he had been sawing wood all day. 
Jingo had been carrying in the pieces intended 
for kindling, piling them up behind the kitchen 
stove ; he remained rather long behind its ample 
shelter on one trip and John stepped in to see 
what was occupying him. He was carefully rais- 
ing a complicated structure of sticks laid across 
each other. 

" Dat de Tow'r ob Babel, Massa John," said 
the absorbed architect, looking up at John and 
quite unconscious that he was spending his time 
in an improper manner. 

" You won't reach Heaven in that fashion, 
Jingo ; especially if you idle away your time when 
you should be working." 

" Don spec' to reach Heben dis yere way no- 
how, Massa. 'Dose folks didn't, if I 'member cor- 
recly, dey got dere moufs all mingled togeder an' 
'dat made such gran' confusion dey couldn't wuk. 
Now it's all finish," and Jingo gave a sudden jump 
that demolished the whole structure as his toe 
caught the end of the bottom stick. He surveyed 
the fall gravely. 

" Reckon I'd better go wuk agin." 

" I reckon so too," laughed John, " and leave 
your Bible lessons till another time." 


Jingo's share of the work seemed to have 
tired him as well as his young master ; he had 
also retired to his small cot and the bright little 
eyes were closed in sleep when Molly went to look 
at him, after John had gone upstairs. 

" How different he looks from the first time I 
saw him ; dear me, John has sifted a lot of saw- 
dust into his little black head ; what a tiresome 
boy," she said, then going to the w^ood-box she 
took several large cones from it and returned to 
the living-room. She put two or three on the 
glowing logs and watched them burn and grow 
red-hot, still partially keeping their shaj)e. How 
unutterably lonely it was ! Yet had her thoughts 
been cheerful she might have enjoyed the fire- 
light, dancing, quivering, throwing uncertain and 
fantastic figures on walls and ceiling, waving now 
here, now there, as if they were alive. The con- 
stant drip, drip of the rain outside made Molly 
nervous as she sat in the old-fashioned rocking 
chair, and, listening to the regular dropping of the 
water into the bucket in the kitchen, she fancied 
it like the steady knocking of a small finger;, 
almost metallic was the ring of that perpetually 
falling drop into the accumulated water, and. 


INFolly found herself counting the slow intervals 
between each splash as it fell. Why didn't it 
stop sometimes? 

As if feeling the influence of the long rain, 
the brook whose faint trickling in the cellar was 
scarcely noticeable at common times, sounded 
])lainly to-night, whispering the fancy that 
shadowy people were holding high carnival in the 
darkness below, while outside the rising night 
wind did nothing in its uncertain sighing to quiet 
her excited imagination or lull her strained nerves 
to rest. The clock ticked louder than she had ever 
heard it before, and the squirrel sat upright on its 
carved top, watching her with intent intelligent 
eyes, showing no disposition to come down to be 
petted as usual, but wearing, as it seemed to her, 
an uncanny expression of expectancy. ]\Iolly 
arose and drew the curtains closer. The dark 
corners of the room frightened her. Why should 
she feel as if intangible beings were all around ? 
She turned suddenly, fancying something touched 
her shoulder. 

" How absurd this is ; I shall wake John up 
to keep me company," she said aloud, but her 
voice sounded strangely to herself and seemed to 


awake echoes through the silent room. Surely 
that was the tramp of horses' hoofs ! Some one 
was riding fast along the avenue ; was the door 
locked ? She thought not, and sprang to fasten it 
fearing unwelcome visitors, but the horse had 
stopped close to the house and she knew the step 
that hastily crossed the porch floor. Flinging the 
door open wide and caring not for the rain that 
blew in her face with sudden gusts, she felt her 
lover's arms about her and knew that one, at 
least, of her prayers was answered. 

" When did you come ? Have you seen your 
mother?" were her first questions, as soon as she 
recovered her breath. 

" Just arrived an hour ago ; yes, I stopped at 
home to tell mother I was all right, and she was 
good enough to let me come right over here." 

"She wdll get well now," said Molly. Her 
face was marvellously bright after the sadness of 
a few minutes ago. 

" She cheered up wonderfully during the half 
hour I was there," said Rosco, " so I am going to 
stay over here to-night if you can put me up; 
your mother seemed rather relieved at the idea." 

"Yes, she does not like to leave us alone, 


though she has spent several nights with Mrs. 
Gordon lately." 

" It is good to get back, oh, how good !" said 
Rosco, " But I must leave you long enough to get 
my horse under shelter, it still rains." 

" Take John's lantern, the little stable behind 
the house will hold him, and the cows will be 
glad of more company," said Molly. 

"Gladder than you are? You don't say 
much to me, ]\Iolly," said the young man, with a 
gleam of his hazel eyes, as he took the lantern 
from her hand. 

" Ah, I can't say half — " she answered, " I 
thought you would never come." 

When Rosco returned from stabling his horse 
he thought he had never seen a lovelier picture 
than the flickering firelight showed him. The 
bright flame§ lit up Molly's slight figure clad in 
the picturesque old velvet, and, as she turned 
to meet him, the joy that flashed over her glow- 
ing face was enough to satisfy the most ardent 
lover's expectations ; he thought no more for the 
time of his past trial, nor did she hear the dreary 
storm without. 

"Oh, if you only knew how I have longed 


for this, Molly. Once I thought I should never 
see you again." 

" The worst was not allowed to come, Rosco," 
replied the girl as they stood together before the 
fire. T^ie squirrel took observations from its ele- 
vated perch, and seeing that neither of the other 
occupants of the room showed any signs of retir- 
ing, concluded it was not worth while to wait and 
curling its tail over its nose was soon fast asleep. . 





Very glad and thankful was Frances Hay- 
dock to see Rosco Gordon once more and to learn 
that her beloved husband had been able to get 
through to the Union lines, and also to know that 
he had not suffered as much as many of the other 
Friends who had been impressed into the army. 
Weary and worn he might be, that was but the 
common lot of those among whom he was thrown, 
and no complaint was thought of on this account. 
Indeed, no murmuring was ever heard from the 
lips of these Quakers, even when they were 
wounded and beaten for steady refusals to bear 
arms. Other soldiers risked loss of life and limb 
for what they believed to be their duty, why 
should not the Friends take equal risk for the 
Captain under whom they served, the Prince of 
Peace? In following Him, however, none lost 
either life or limb, though they did endure that 
which perhaps was harder, the scorn and hatred 


of those who, mistaking their Christianity for fear 
or self-seeking, branded them as cowards and 
traitors. No people have ever been more consci- 
entious citizens of the United States than the 
Quakers, nor more obedient to autliority which 
did not conflict with what they regarded as the 
higher law. As to sacrifice, the pecuniary losses 
of Friends were not small. In one Quarterly 
Meeting in North Carolina the destruction of their 
property was estimated in official returns at ninety- 
six thousand dollars in gold. Their unwillingness 
to fight seemed sufficient proof to the Confederate 
army that they favored the Union, and owing to 
the same cause they were pointed out to the 
Northern commanders as obstinate secessionists. 
More than ever during the spring of 1865, were 
their homes stripped of almost every comfort. 
Bedding and clothing, furniture and food v/ere 
either taken or destroyed ; all available animals 
were carried away ; what seed had been planted 
in the hoj^e of making a fresh start was involved 
in the general destruction, and no more was ob- 

Still Friends lived, and though Frances Hay- 
dock felt the deep distress of the country she loved 


SO sincerely, she could not but be relieved by the 
lifting of her most crushing anxiety, and daily 
did she give thanks to the loving Father whose 
commands they were endeavoring to obey and 
who had protected them amid much danger. 
Poverty has the one advantage of lessening care, 
except it be a grinding poverty that makes hourly 
sustenance a doubt. No horses, no cows were 
left ; for the heifers had finally fallen a prey to a 
body of hungry foragers, and Molly, after the first 
shock, was glad, for the poor animals had been 
going on very small rations for some weeks and 
wore a pitifully unsatisfied look whenever she or 
John went to milk them. No corn to hoe, no 
garden to keep in order, made the duties of the 
household remarkably light. There were pine 
cones and light wood to be gathered, and John 
usually took his gun with him when he made his 
expeditions to the swamp, for a stray squirrel 
was a not unwelcome addition to their ordinary 
fare of hoe-cake and potatoes. Did I say there 
were no living animals about the place? This 
was incorrect, for of the two domesticated chickens, 
one still remained. Its existence was owing to 
the fancy it evinced for Jingo, a predeliction 


warmly reciprocated by tliat individual, who, 
when he found John was intending to convert 
the lone fowl into a stew, begged so hard for its 
life that it was granted him. 

" Jingo, it eats so much cornmeal," remarked 

" Laws sake, Massa John, I'll gib it a bit ob 
what ever yer kin spar me. It reelly don't 'quire 
haf what as dat triflin' squirrel gits." Jingo did 
not like the squirrel, probably because the small 
beast regarded him with an unconquerable sus- 
picion, and when perched on the clock, slyly 
dropped chestnut shells on to Jingo's head as he 
sat at the foot of the ancient piece of furniture, 
stud3dng his spelling lesson. 

The dreary winter was over and spring was 
in the air once more. Birds were again making 
their -way from the far South and twittered mer- 
rily in and about the great swamp, their gay 
songs and lively darting among the trees contra- 
dicting its claim to the name of "Dismal " which 
described its darker attributes. Long, irregular 
lines of wild ducks were seen against the soft blue 
sky, and frequently John would bring home two 
or more ot tliese birds that he had been able to 


secure as they rested in the hidden pools of tlie 
swam^:), thinking themselves safe in these secret 
recesses amid feathery cypresses and thick leaved 
bay trees. 

In North Carolina the ]\Iarch sunshine is 
often very warm, coaxing out the tiny violets and 
delicate ferns in early abundance. The Lady 
Banksia rose dropped the rusty leaves that had 
clung to it all winter, and displayed little sprays 
and minute clusters of rose-buds, soon to blossom 
into luxuriant creamy beauty. Along the edges 
of the swamp the magnolias were sweet, and the 
great white buds of the bay had begun to swell. 
All felt the reviving influences of the lovel}'" 
weather ; the winter had relaxed its hold, and 
though vehicles were useless for want of horses, 
those who were good pedestrians found it possible 
to hold some little intercourse with their neigh- 
bors. The meeting-house, unused for the greater 
part of the winter, was once more opened, and the 
life-giving sunshine again brightened the old 
brown walls. 

One bright Sabbath, or as Friends term it, 
" First day," Rosco Gordon put their horse, which 
was still allowed to remain in their possession, 


into a carry-all of doubtful strength, and drove 
over to Frances Hay dock's, arriving there imme- 
diately after their simple breakfast. 

" Mrs. Hay dock," he said, " won't you let me 
carry you to meeting to-day ?" 

" Thank thee, Rosco, the children and I were 
thinking of walking over this morning, it is such 
a beautiful day," replied the Quakeress, rising 
from her green-cushioned rocking chair and lay- 
ing aside the old volume from which she had 
been reading. 

" I think you had better ride, if you do not 
object, the roads are still wet in some of the low 
places," said the young man, noting the sweet 
repose in every line of Frances Haydock's face 
and form, — a calm that is rarely seen in any Ijut 
the people of this religious sect and which prob- 
ably results from a long habit of absolute trust in 
the higher Power, and also from their usage of 
repressing all kinds of violent emotion. The very 
form of Quaker worship requires considerable self- 
control and this restraint has been carried so far 
sometimes, as to repress healthy spiritual life. 
To Rosco Gordon, with his impulsive Southern 
nature, the repose he found in this Quaker family 


was very attractive, and its influence had much 
strengthened and steadied him ; to-day the whole 
feeling in the house spoke of the Sabbath, and 
the clamor of conflict through the land seemed 
very far away. 

" Is Miss Molly about ?" he asked presently. 

" She and John walked down to the meadow 
behind the house to look for violets, I believe. If 
thee will bring them back, I will put on my bon- 
net in the meanwhile, as thee is so kind as to offer 
to drive us to meeting." 

" Thank you, I will soon find them," said 
Rosco, walking through the kitchen and out across 
the chip yard, where he tumbled over Jingo sit- 
ting motionless behind the woodpile. 

*' Why, Jingo, what are you doing ? I did not 
know you could sit still five minutes at a time." 

"Sh, sh, Massa Rosco, I'se jest a waitin' for 
dis yer chicken to fin' a place to lay an ^g^ down. 
Ef she kin show she aint de no 'count critter 
Massa John say she be, den Jingo '11 git a bit more 
hoe-cake ebery mornin' ?" 

" And how much of it will you give her ?" 
said Rosco, much amused at the boy's eager watch 
over his chicken as she stepped cautiously about, 


deliberately lifting her claws over the chips, and 
peering first under one log and then under 

" I'll keejD her agoin', sah, neber you fear ; she 
aint kep' Jingo's feet warm all de winter to be 
'giected now an' her comb's gitten' as pinky as 
Miss Molly's lips, an' I plumb sartain she's agoin' 
ter lay soon's she kin git quiet. Here come Miss 
Molly and Massa John, reckon I'll tote her to de 
barn whar she kin 'sperience som res'. She's dun 
gwine to lay, shuah," and Jingo picked up his 
favorite, who was regarding him with outstretched 
neck and grave eye and disappeared into the barn. 

Soon the old carry-all was moving down the 
avenue, and its occupants enjoyed the balmy air 
laden with a piny odor given forth by the young- 
buds of spruce and fir. 

"There was a rumor last night that Rich- 
mond had fallen, Mrs. Haydock," said Rosco Gor- 
don, turning to address her as she sat quietly be- 
hind him ; few words had been exchanged as they 
drove along, for a cast-off knapsack here, and a 
broken musket there, on the side of the road, con- 
tinually reminded them of the misery throughout 
the land, the sorrow of bereaved families in the 


North, the double burden of defeat and desolation 
in the South. The vivid spring sunshine and the 
melting blue of the sky seemed a mockery above 
the mourning of the nation. 

"And if Richmond has fallen, father will 
soon be back, won't he ?" exclaimed John, his boy- 
ish openness proving a relief to the sudden joy m 
his mother's heart. The thought of seeing her 
husband once more, brought a flood of feeling too 
deep to allow of words. 

" Could he get through the lines as soon as 
the Southern army surrenders ?" asked Molly. 

" I suppose he could," returned young Gor- 
don, " and I fancy no obstacle will be too great to 
overcome, if getting here be at all possible." 

" Oh, but it will be good to see him again," 
said Molly. 

"Indeed it will," responded Rosco heartily, 
" and then Mrs. Haydock will not want you, will 
she, Molly ?" he added in a low voice, a suspicion 
of mischief lighting up his eyes. 

" May I lift you down ?" he continued, as he 
drew the horse up to the meeting-house door, 
"put your foot on the wheel, that step is hardly 
safe," and the light active youth lifted the maiden 



gently down as with a heightened color in her soft 
cheek she resigned herself to his strong arm, 

"Now, Mrs. Haydock, the old carriage has 
brought you safely over after all," said Rosco as 
he assisted her to alight. 

" Yes, thank thee, Rosco ; Molly and I will go 
in and John will wait for thee." 

How different was the assemblage from that 
which had gathered there four years ago ! Then 
there had been an air of prosperous content about 
the congregation wdiich sj^oke of well being and 
happiness, in spite of the sober mien of the wor- 
shippers. Now the gathering was smaller, the 
clothing was faded, worn and of many fashions ; 
the faces were somew^hat thin and pale, and what 
of brightness they had once contained was now 
changed to a sad, but calm endurance. Many of 
the men were away and the absence of news from 
them filled the hearts of their families and friends 
with a wearing suspense. 

Frances Haydock passed up the uncarpeted 
aisle and ascending a few steps took her seat in 
the gallery at the end nearest the men's side, 
separated just there from the women's section by 
a single bar of dark wood. Molly seated herself 


below with the rest of the women Friends. As 
she looked up at the gallery where the ministers 
sat, she could not helj) contrasting the fair face 
and dignified aspect of her mother with the bent 
figure and brown wrinkled face of the ancient 
Friend sitting next to her ; the years had been 
kind to Frances Haydock, and her loving daugh- 
ter rejoiced in her sweet looks. Indeed, this bright 
morning filled Molly's heart with gladness, and 
as her lover took his seat on the men's side and 
bent his brown head on the rail in front of him 
in a different mode of worship from that observed 
among Friends, she almost reproached herself for 
her joy. 

Silence reigned within the building, and 
through the windows Molly's eyes wandered to 
the dull green pine trees so softly outlined against 
the deep blue sky, from which the sunshine fell 
in a golden flood. So quietly had the preacher 
in the men's gallery arisen that his voice, falling 
with its deliberate accents on the girl's ear, star- 
tled her. Leaning forward with both his hands 
on the polished rail in front of him, he enunci- 
ated his oj^ening text : 

" ' Is there any word from the Lord ? ' " In 


the slight pause so often following the first sen- 
tence of a Friend's sermon, the heavy door at the 
opposite end of the house swung open and a tall 
dignified figure entered, closed the door behind 
him and walking up the middle aisle, quietly 
took his seat at the head of the gallery. One look 
was exchanged between husband and wife ; then 
the habitual self-control reasserted itself, and they 
sat outwardly unmoved as the sjDeaker proceeded 
with his address. Molly had half risen, but sat 
down again with clasped hands and head bent 
upon them, not moving till the first speaker had 
finished and taken his seat again. A moment 
after, James Haydock kneeling, offered up a 
thanksgiving such as had rarely been heard with- 
in those old walls. It seemed to carry his hearers 
very near the gates of Heaven and a deep sol- 
emnity spread over the congregation as they re- 
seated themselves after the closing words. The 
services were short, and when it was time to break 
up, instead of shaking hands with the Friend just 
beside him, as was the usual habit, James Hay- 
dock turned and held out both hands to his wife, 
who responded with a look of such heart-felt 
gladness that all words were indeed unnecessary. 


The eager greetings of friends after meeting were 
kindly received, but as soon as courtesy permitted, 
James and Frances Haydock drove homeward in 
the old carryall, while the three young people 
sauntered slowly after them along the sandy road, 
enjoying the beauty of the sjDring vegetation and 
the resinous breath of the woods. 




" You must have seen more actual warfare 
than I did, Mr. Haydock," said Rosco Gordon, 
after tea, as he sat with the family on the front 
porch in the soft light of early evening. 

" I saw far more than I cared to," was James 
Haydock's reply. " I would I could blot out from 
my mind the remembrance of one battle. It had 
been raging for hours across a valley, to and fro ; 
the smoke hung in a thick curtain between the 
hills and through it we could hear the scream of 
the shells mingled with the shrieks of the wounded 
and the cry of the agonized horses, all in one ter- 
rible confusion. After one desperate charge of cav- 
alry, the colonel of the regiment tried to gather 
his men together again, and in answer to his 
bugle call, more than an hundred horses wheeled 
into line, but the riders that had gone with them 
into that storm-cloud were not there. After the 
battle was over, (and on neiiiher side was anything 


decisive accomplished) I went down into the field 
to see if there was anything I could do. It was 
sickening ; heads, arms, limbs in every direction, 
a mass of slaughtered humanity. I have heard 
it said that those killed in battle wear a peaceful 
expression, and I believe that a few hours after 
death that is the case, for I have seen it myself, 
but these faces of the newly slain generally bore 
a look of agony unutterable. The hell they had 
passed through had stamped its impress on their 
features. It is a blessed thing that this awful ex- 
pression does not last ; for if those who are sent 
home to friends and relatives retained it long after 
death it would be a fearful remembrance to those 
who loved them." 

"It is curious how the features do change 
after death," remarked Rosco, the other listeners 
saying nothing. 

" Entirely," said the older man, then after a 
pause he continued. " I helped to carry one young 
fellow to the hospital tent ; he was bearing his 
suffering bravely, but his hands were clenched 
and his hair w^et with perspiration. He asked the 
doctor if he could do nothing for him, and when 
told only death could relieve his pain, he turned 


to me with such piteous eyes, *In God's mercy 
pray it may be soon/ he said, and it was soon. I 
sat for an hour beside another bright boy, hardly 
more than a child; he said he was the last of 
three brothers and his mother was alone ; the cries 
that came from the amputating tent were horrible, 
for the doctors had not time to give chloroform, 
or to be very gentle always, and this boy seemed 
much disturbed, so I carried him down to my 
own tent, which was further away. He was a 
good boy, not afraid to go, but grieving about his 
mother, saying, ' She gave us all up and it is 
useless, for the South is getting beaten anyhow.' 
He asked me to read to him and I rejDeated some 
verses, then he said himself slowly : 

" ' Remember now thy Creator in the days of 
thy youth,' mother told me that ; I'm glad I did ; ' 
then his words grew indistinct and I could barely 
catch the next verse or two, ' or ever the silver 
cord be loosed ; ' ' mine is loosening fast,' he 
opened his e3^es and looked past me out into the 
darkening twilight, with that far-reaching gaze 
which once seen is never forgotten ; he crossed his 
hands on his breast and with a long soft breath, 
was gone. I was alone in my tent." 


No one broke the hush that followed. Molly 
was crying softly and Frances Haydock felt her 
husband's hand clasp hers more closely. Pres- 
ently he arose, saying : 

" The evenings are still cool, shall we not go 
into the house ? " 

" I must go home, I think," said Rosco, 
'' mother will be wanting me, though she is won- 
derfully better. Good-night, Mrs. Haydock, I 
cannot tell you how glad I am to see Mr. Hay- 
dock back again." 

" The Lord has been wonderfully good to us," 
she replied. "Praise be to His name." 

"Amen," responded the young man, reverent- 
ly, as he stood bare-headed under the cool sj^ring 

Richmond had fallen, and James Haydock 
had been one of the first to pass down through 
the Great Swamp and return to his family. Find- 
ing the home empty on his arrival, with the ex- 
ception of Jingo, he left his hard ridden horse in 
the little stable and went at once to the meeting- 
house as the colored boy directed ; he could not 
wait for the return of his household, and he wished 
also to return thanks in unison with the rest of 


his people for the many blessings of which he and 
they had been the recipients during the past four 
years. It may be stated here that although many 
Christian denominations had been separated in 
feeling by the bitterness of war, the Friends had 
kept their brotherly love and confidence unbroken 
during these years of trial. As soon as the Nor- 
thern Friends knew of the suffering throughout 
the Southern meetings, immediate relief was sent 
down, the Secretary of War promptly giving passes 
to all who were bearers of this assistance, which 
we believe was the first aid sent South after the 

Richmond had fallen. General Lee had sur- 
rendered, and the war was practically over. Rosco 
Gordon was too true a Southerner not to feel 
acutely the defeat of his peoj^le, and though dimly 
recognizing that their triumph would have 
brought about a more disastrous state of affairs 
for themselves, than their defeat, and that the 
abolition of slavery was a thing much to be de- 
sired, he could not but suffer keenly from the dis- 
tress and humiliation that had come upon his 
beautiful South. 

Moreover the cloud of conflict still hovered 


above the section of country wherein our story has 
lain. The army of General Johnson was not far 
from the neighborhood of Greensboro, and Gen- 
eral Sherman with his troops, lay only a day or 
two's march away, demanding the surrender of the 
Confederate forces. 

While awaiting the answer to this demand, 
that event occurred which brought almost the 
deepest sorrow ever permitted to overshadow our 

James Haydock and Rosco Gordon had rid- 
den one bright spring morning in April, to the 
nearest official station, hoping to obtain more de- 
finite news than they had yet received concern- 
ing the ratification of peace between the long con- 
tending sections of the country. The troops now 
nearest them Avere of the Federal army, but the 
Confederates were not very distant, and at any 
time the tide of battle might roll in one furious 
destructive wave over their defenceless homes. 
Arriving at the quarters, they were struck with 
the expression on the face of the officer in charge, 
as he read a brief dispatch just handed him. 
James Haydock approached, asking, 

" Is the news not encouraging this morning ? 
Nothing very bad, I trust." 


The officer looked up at him as one dazed; 
wrath, horror, and grief all delineated in his 
features ; he seemed unable to speak and held out 
the dispatch with shaking hand to James Hay- 
dock, who took it feeling as if some terrible and 
wholly unforeseen calamity had fallen upon him. 
The hastily written words : " President Lincoln 
assassinated last night," struck him like a heavy 
blow, and Rosco Gordon, reading over his shoulder, 
felt the quiver running through the strong frame 
so close to him. 

" Let us go home ; there is mourning in the 
land," were the only words James Haydock spoke 
as he turned from the door of the little building. 

" You say true, sir," replied the officer, rising 
from the chair where he had been seated, " this is 
a blow struck at the hearts, homes, and honor of 
our country, such as never yet has fallen upon us. 
The last act of the national tragedy is yet to be 

If possible the heart of Rosco Gordon was 
heavier than that of his older companion as they 
rode home together through the warm sunshine 
that had suddenly lost its brightness. It seemed 
to him as if his beloved country had blackened its 


honor with a stain that could never be wij^ed 


The American people had always seemed to 

him brave and honorable. Had he erred in this 
judgment? Had war with all its debasing influ- 
ences brought them to this ? Ah, he, as well as 
many of us, had to learn that war so deadens the 
higher nature that treachery, lying, fraud, unfair 
advantage, evil of all kinds are regarded as at 
least allowable, and often commendable. It was 
never proved at whose door lay the murder of 
this great and beloved man, but it was very 
surely the outcome of a state of feeling engendered 
by slavery and its consequent war. Frances Hay- 
dock was writing at her husband's desk, when she 
heard him cross the porch ; an indescribable heav- 
iness in his step caused her to look up apprehen- 
sively as he entered and the gravity of his face 
did not reassure her. 

" Is there any fresh misfortune ?" she queried 

" A very heavy one, my wife. No, not to us 
personally," he quickly added as he saw how pale 
she became, and then as Molly came in from the 
kitchen, he told them of the crime unexampled in 


American history, that had taken place at the 

" I said it was not personal, and yet the entire 
nation will mourn for Abraham Lincoln with an 
individual feeling that very few men have ever 
commanded," said James Hay dock, seating him- 
self with down-cast brow in his large arm chair. 
Rosco Gordon came in and took a seat near Molly 
as she occuj^ied her usual low stool near the fire- 
place. In its depths a few logs smoldered slowly 
away, scarcely needed now that the warm sun- 
shine poured in through the windows. 

" Mr. Lincoln's ready personal interest in so 
many cases we hear of has much endeared him to 
the people," said the young man, his eyes resting 
thoughtfully on the embers. 

"Truly, it has," answered James Haydock, 
" his high principles, his unwavering courage in 
carrying them out, his earnest seeking to know 
the right thing to do, and his tender quaintness 
in every day intercourse with those constantly 
around him, have won a reverent affection rarely 
gained by any public character." He stoj)ped 
speaking, and a silence fell on the little group, a 
hush of sorrow typical of the attitude of the whole 


Northern people, under the loss of their much 
loved president. In countless households, the 
feeling was as if one of their most valued and 
honored members had been taken from them, and 
the greatness of the calamity bewildered the land. 

Jingo crept in and curled himself up on 
Molly's skirts ; he had gathered that 'Massa Lin- 
kum' was dead, and accustomed as he had been to 
think of him as almost divine, this sudden and 
sorrowful event imjDressed him with a grief and 
awe only to be understood by those well acquaint- 
ed with the feeling almost of worship with which 
the colored race regarded Mr. Lincoln. 

And so the mourners sat in profound grief in 
many a dwelling that day, and the horror and 
wrath felt at the North extended in part through- 
out the South. Black and white wept together, 
and while feeling the death of their President 
most keenly, could not but give thanks that such 
a man had lived. 

Here it is time for us to leave the characters 
of our tale ; and indeed, where better can we leave 
them than under the softening and ennobling in- 
fluence of a great and unselfish sorrow, but with 
cheer and brightness near in view ? 


Tlie threatened storm of battle around our 
friends finally rolled away, and they felt as if their 
prayers had been answered when the last of the 
Southern army surrendered near them without 

Our tale is ended; will it accomplish what 
was intended ? Will it show that if others had 
done what the Quakers did in regard to slavery a, 
century before, the terrible war that finally exter- 
minated this evil, might have been averted ? Will 
it deepen the conviction that war is contrary to 
the mind of Christ, and prevents the spread of 
that Gospel which is tlie tidings of " Peace on earth, 
good will to men." And finally, will the proved 
experience of our Quakers imbue doubting Chris- 
tians with a fuller belief in our Saviour's power 
and willingness to protect His followers under any 
circumstances ? 

This has been the object of our narrative, — 
the hope of opening perhaps more clearly some 
of the gospel truths to those who, knowing many 
of the privileges under which a Christian may 
live, have not yet grasped them in their fullness. 
Once, it is said, when the Bible was almost en- 
tirely excluded from France, an open copy of it 


was displayed in the window of a certain shop in 
the gay city of Paris. Day by day groups of 
artisans going and returning from their various 
occupations would stop, read what was printed on 
the open page, and pass on. At last a young 
workman stepped inside the shojD with the request 
to be allowed to turn the leaf and read the " rest 
of the story." Many believers have studied earn- 
estly the truths of Christianity, and yet perchance 
not known or felt the whole. May we hope that 
our sketch will lead such to turn the leaf and 
learn the " rest of the story ?" "With this in view we 
leave it, and the reader also, adding only, in the 
language of Scripture, " When a man's ways please 
the Lord, He maketh even his enemies to be at 
peace with him." 




From an Account of the Experiences of 
Friends in North Carolina in Support 
OF Their Testimony Against War. 

J. D. was conscripted in the autumn of 1862, 
He, and several other conscripts, were offered 
bounty money if they would volunteer, but J. D. 
and two others refused. Many arguments w^ere 
used to make them accept the offers, but in vain. 
An officer came forward saying, " Boys, I want to 
give you some good advice. Take your money 
and clothing and go along. Obey your officer 
and do right, or else you will be put under the 
officers of Col. S., who will have you shot into 
strings if you don't obey. Just put away your 
Quaker notions now and do right." Refusing to 
obey, lie was sent to Richmond, Va., but w^hile on 
the way there was released through the efforts of 
Friends and sent home. He was at this time 
a Methodist, but was soon after united to the 

S. W. L., of Randolph County, N. C, was 
another of our faithful members. He had been 
conscripted and sent to Petersburg, Va. Upon 
his arrival he was ordered to take up arms, but on 
refusing to do so, he was bucked down for some 
length of time daily, for a week, and then sus- 
pended by the thumbs for an hour and a half. 

NOTES. 275 

Being still firm in his refusal to fight, he was or- 
dered to be shot. A little scafibld was prepared 
on which he was placed, and the men were drawn 
up in line ready to execute the sentence, when he 
prayed, " Father, forgive them ; for they know not 
what they do." Upon hearing this they lowered 
their guns, and he was thrust into prison. 

In the Spring of 1862, two brothers, N. M. H. 
and J. D. H. were drafted, arrested and taken to 
Raleigh. Refusing to bear arms they were kept 
in close confinement, and deprived of food and 
drink for four and a half days. They were so 
patient and gentle that ministers of different de- 
nominations came and encouraged them to be 

faithful. J. D. H. was taken before Gen. D , 

who said he would not require him to bear arms, 
but would set him in front of the battle to stop 
bullets. They bound heavy logs of wood on his 
shoulders and marched him about till exhausted, 
when he was returned to jail. His brother N. M. 
H. had been enduring a different punishment. 
Three times they suspended him by his thumbs 
till his toes barely touched the ground, and kept 
him in this excruciating position nearly two hours 
each time. They next tried the bayonet; the 
orders were to thrust them four inches deep, but 
though much scarred and pierced it was not done 
as deeply as they had threatened. One of the 
men, after thus wounding him, came back to en- 
treat his forgiveness. In the various changes of 
the next four months some kindness was shown 
them, but also much cruelty. It was not till seven 
months had been passed in these fiery ordeals that 
their release was obtained ; another friend think- 


ing it right to pay their exemption money for 
them. Their wives and daughters shared these 
trials, in that they were compelled to toil in the 
fields to raise food for the winters, till health was 
sometimes permanently injured. 

W. B. H, was arrested in June, 1863 ; he was 
ordered to be shot, as he would not obey the order 
to carry arms, the colonel giving him the choice 
whether he would die that night or the next 
morning. W. H. replied that if it was his Hea- 
venly Father's will that he should lay down his 
life, he would far rather do it than disobey one of 
His commands ; but that if it was not His will, 
none of them could take his life from him. The 
officer seemed greatly at a loss and ordered him 
to the wagon-yard for the night. The next morn- 
ing he was brought out to be shot, and a squad of 
men drawn up to fire. W. H. raised his arms in 
prayer and not a gun was fired, some of the men 
saying " they could not shoot such a man." The 
enraged ofiicer struck at his head, but missed his 
aim. He then sj^urred his horse repeatedly to 
ride over him, but the animal sprang aside each 
time and he remained unharmed. He was after- 
ward taken ill, captured by the Union cavalry, 
sent to Fort Delaware as prisoner of war, finally 
released and, going to the West, remained there 
till the close of the war. 

These brief notes could be multiplied to a 
large extent, and those interested in the subject 
can obtain fuller information by application to 
" North Carolina Yearly Meeting of Friends," or 
to " The Christian Arbitration and Peace Society, 
310 Chestnut Street, Philadelphia, Pa.