IAC©i TOOIKMieEIR MlMOmilAL
'^^iU^^
Major Crawford Wortliingtou.
TWO RUNAWAYS
AND OTHER STORIES
BY
HARRY STILLWELL EDWARDS
Author of ''His Defense, and Other Stories"
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS
BY E. W. KEMBLE
NEW YORK
THE CENTURY CO.
1900
4.
Copyright, 1886-1887-1888-1889,
BY THE Century Co.
The oeVinne Prem.
PEEFACE.
THE elements dealt with in these stories are
the brighter and better parts of the older
negro character, and of some of the people
whose lives touch or touched his. Naturally
the humorous and pathetic features have been
prominently brought forth, and this has neces-
sitated at times glimpses at the religious side
of his life. It should be stated here that this
negro is rarely ever irreverent; that, however
his words may appear in print, in reality they
never suggest anything improper. Those who
read them, however amused they may be by his
odd and incongruous ideas, methods of expres-
sion, and the scenes in which he becomes in-
volved, should bear this fact in mind. The
prayers, sermons, and hymns given here differ
but little from the real, and that chiefly in
arrangement. The white characters are mainly
935S
oddities taken from life, and each story is based
upon fact.
The author takes this opportunity of acknowl-
edging the courtesy of Harper and Brothers, in
granting permission to include here " Elder
Brown's Backslide ^ and " ' Ole Miss ' and
* Sweetheart,' " taken from their magazine. The
other stories appeared first in The Century
Magazine.
Macon, Gra., July, 1889.
CONTENTS.
I Two Runaways 1
II Elder Brown^s Backslide 33
III An Idyl of '^Sinkin^ Mount'in" 63
IV "Ole Miss'' and "Sweetheart" 104
V Sister Todhunter's Heart 131
VI "De Valley an' De Shadder" 162
VII " Mmc " — A Plot 196
VIII A Born Inventor 209
IX Tom's Strategy 226
TWO RUNAWAYS
AND OTHER STORIES,
TWO EUNAWAYS.
HAVE little doubt but many people in mid-
dle Georgia yet remember Crawford Worth-
ington, who, in ante-bellum days, kept open
bouse in Baldwin County. Major Worth-
ington, as he was called because of some
fancied aid he had extended to his country during
the difficulty with Mexico, was not a type — unless to
be one of many singular characters in a region whose
peculiar institutions admitted of the wildest eccen-
tricities can constitute a type. He lived in the midst
of peace and plenty upon his plantation not many
miles from Milledgeville, surrounded by several hun-
dred slaves, with whom he was upon singular but easy
terms. His broad, rolling fields, his almost boundless
pastures, his solemn-fronted and tall-columned house,
his comfortable " quarters," where dwelt the negroes,
all bespoke prosperity and independence. Independ-
ent he was; no prince ever ruled with sway more
potent than this bachelor planter, surrounded by his
,2 ,c^ , , ^ , , TWO RUNAWAYS.
"blocks and acknowledging none other than his own
This marked character was a man below medium
height. His figure inclined very decidedly to portli-
ness, and beyond a long narrow mustache and thin
imperial of black and gray, his face was clean-shaven.
Iron-gray hair in abundance crept out from under the
white felt hat he generally wore, and his mixed suit
of gray was illumined by a rufled shirt and broad-
spreading cuffs of the finest linen.
Self-willed and eccentric are weak words with which
to stamp this gentleman's actions. In the long days
of his idleness, when the Legislature was not in ses-
sion, the negro was an unfailing source of amusement
and study to him, and his sole diversion, for he de-
spised books from the day he left college, and beyond
a sporting journal and a paper from a neighboring
city, he had no periodical. Of course he was a Whig.
Upon the day which I have selected to open a page
in the experience of Major Crawford Worthington he
was sitting upon his broad veranda, which swept back
from the front around to the shady eastern exposure
and overlooked the spacious back yard. Twoscore
pickaninnies in short shirts had scrambled in front of
him for small silver coins, as he scattered them upon
the ground beneath. The tears wrung from him by
their contortions and funny postures had dried upon
his cheeks, and, weary of the sport, he had turned
away the black athletes by means of a few gourds of
TWO RUNAWAYS. 3
cold water skillfully applied to their half-clad forms,
had settled back to enjoy the afternoon, and fell a-
dreaming.
He remembered, in that easy method common to
dreams, how years before he had sat npon that same
porch watching a favorite old negro catching chick-
ens in the yard. " Isam ! " he had said ; and, moving
with jerky little motions that seemed always to at-
tune themselves to his master's moods as expressed
in his tones, Isam had minced up the steps.
" Isam," he had continued, " you are fixing to run
away ! '^
He remembered the startled look that swept over
the funny little man's countenance, and his answer :
" Lord mussy. Mass' Craffud, whoev'r hyah de like
er dat ! "
" Yes, sir ; and you are fixing to start right away."
There had been genuine grief in the negro's voice
as he replied :
" Fo' Gawd, Mass' Craffud, you dun got de wrong
nigger dis time. Isam is nigh outer fifty year ole, en'
he ain' nev'r lef de place on er run yet. No, sah ! "
Isam, however, spurred on by the suggestion, had
really run off, and the overseer had scoured the
country for him in vain. The black was enjoying
freedom beyond recall, but one morning while the
Major was breakfasting alone, and his two servants
who attended the table were busy with fly-brush and
waffles, Isam suddenly stood in the doorway. His
4 TWO RUNAWAYS.
clothes were torn and soiled, and his face wore a
hang-dog look that was in truth comical. Since that
day old Isam had run away annually about the same
time of the year, and this without any apparent cause.
Evidently this was what the Major was thinking of,
for smiles came and went upon his face like shadows
under the swaying mimosa. And when at last his
eyes fell again upon the old negro :
*^ Isam ! " he said, just as he had spoken years ago.
'* Yes, sir,^' and the jerky little tones were the same.
*' You are fixing to run away, Isam \^
" Me ! " and again that reproachful, protesting voice.
"Yes, you; just as you have for years. You are
getting ready to start. I have had my eye on you for
a week. But,'^ said the Major, fixing his lips after
the Worthington fashion, " I am going to know this
time where you go, and why you go.''
There was silence a full minute ; then the negro
spoke :
" Mass' Craffud, 'deed en' I dunno 'zactly how et is.
Hit jes' sorter strikes me, en' I 'm gone 'fo' I know 't.
En' dat 's er solium f ac', sho'."
" Well," said the Major, " then go when it strikes
you. It is a relief to get rid of you occasionally. But
if you get off this time without letting me know when
you start, I 'U cut your ears off when you come back,
— if I don't "
And Isam believed him.
n.
IsAM^s annual runaway freak had worried Major
Worthington more tlian anything of like importance
he had ever confronted. He cared not an iota for his
lost time, nor for his bad example ; but it gaUed him
to think that there was anything in connection with
a negro that he could not fathom. In this old negro
he had at last found a cunning and a mystery that
evaded his penetration. Study as he might, no satis-
factory explanation could ever be secured. Year
after year, about the first of July, his factotum failed
to appear, and the place that had known him so long
knew him no more for a fortnight.
It was seldom that the Major ever threatened a ser-
vant. Never before in his life had a threat been lev-
eled at Isam, who was a privileged character about
the house. It was not surprising, therefore, that just
before daybreak next morning a knock was heard at
the Major's window. That individual understood it,
and quietly donning his clothes went outside, assured
that he would find Isam on hand. He was not mis-
taken.
" Hit 's dun struck me, Mass' Craffud, en' I 's 'bliged
ter go," said Isam.
6
6 TWO RUNAWAYS.
"Ah ! " said tlie Major 5 " then we ^11 talk it over first.''
Isam sat upon the steps, the major in his old
rocker, and talk it over they did, until a pale glim-
mer trembled in the east. What passed between
them no one ever learned ; but finally the Major rose,
and preceded by Isam, who bore a pack that gave him
the appearance of a sable Chris Kringle, struck out
straight across the fence and the fields, disappearing
in the woods beyond. Only the hounds knew when
they left, and these tugged at their chains with noisy
pleadings, but in vain. When day finally rolled in
with streaming banners, Woodhaven was without its
master, and the overseer, too much accustomed to the
eccentricities of that absent power to worry over his
sudden departure, reigned in his stead.
The path of the runaways led first directly past a
growth of plum-bushes, an acre in extent, that stood
out in the open field, a small forest in itself. This was
the burial ground, where without regard to order or
system the graves of departed negroes, covered with
bits of glass, broken cups, abandoned cans, and other
treasures of the trash heap, dotted the shadowy
depths. These glimmered faintly in the gray half-
light, and Isam shivered slightly as he passed. The
movement did not escape the notice of the Major, who
smiled grimly as he said :
" You don't come this way, Isam, when you run off
by yourself."
TWO RUNAWAYS. 7
The sound of a human voice was reassuring, and
the negro answered cheerily :
" Yessir. Ain' nuthin' go'n' ter tech ole Isam. All
dem in dere is dun boun' en' sot."
^' And what the deuce is ^ bound and sot' ? "
The Major's inquirj^ betrayed impatience rather
than curiosity; he knew weU how secretive is the
negro of any class when interrogated in connection
with his superstitions. Isam shook his head.
" Lor' sakes, Mass' Craffud, don' you know all 'bout
dat?"
" No," said the Major testily ; " if I did, I would n't
be wasting breath asking a fool nigger."
"WeU," said Isam, willing to compromise in the
interest of peace, " w'en er sperrit gits out'n de flesh,
de only way hit can be boun' en' sot es ter plug er
tree." He stepped in front of a broken pine near the
path, and examined it critically. "Dere 's er plug
roun' hyah fur mi'ty nigh ev'y wun dem graves, ef
yer knows where ter look."
" "What do you mean by this nonsense, Isam ? Do
you expect me to swallow such stuff ? "
" Hit 's er f ac', Mass' Craff ud. Dere, now, dere 's er
plug, sho' nuff."
Years before — Major Worthington remembered it
then — he had come across a split pine from which a
half dozen of these plugs had fallen, and was sur-
prised by the scare it had caused on the plantation.
8 TWO BUNA WAYS.
They were made up of old nails, bits of glass, red pep-
per, and tar, and sprinkled with the blood of a chicken.
Each plug contained a few hairs from the head of the
deceased and a piece of a garment that had been worn
next the skin. Each ingredient had an important
significance, but exactly what it was no one knew or
knows to this day, unless some aged Voodoo lingers
in the land and holds the secret
The Major examined the signs pointed out. Only
a practiced eye in broad daylight would have been
apt to discover them. He deliberately took out his
knife and began to pick at a plug. The change that
came over Isam was ludicrous. He clutched the Ma-
jor's arm and chattered out :
" Don^, Mass' Craffud ! don' do it, honey ; you mout
let de meanes' nigg'r on de place git loose, en' dere
ain' no tellin' w'at 'u'd happ'n. You git de chill 'n'
fev'r 'n' cat'piller 'n' bad craps, sho' 's yer born. Oh,
Lordy ! Lordy ! Lordy ! Dere, now, t'ank de Lord ! "
The Major had calmly persisted in his efforts to ex-
tract a plug until his knife-blade snapped. With a
great pretense of rage he persisted with the broken
blade until finally, sure enough, out fell the plug. In
an instant the negro had seized it and thrust it in
place again, and with his back to the tree was beg-
ging so piteously, the Major could not resist.
" All right, idiot," he said laughingly. " Lead the
way ; I won't trouble it."
The Start.
/ TWO BUN AW ATS. 9
Isam moved off without much ado, and the Major,
who was not built for running races and climbing
fences, had as much as he could do to keep up. The
negro wagged his head ominously as he hurried along.
" Dere ain' no tellin^ but w'at dat nigger dun got
loos' en^ 'gun his curvortin' roun' 'f o' now. One time,
lightnin' busted er tree ov'r dere, en' seben er dem
plugs drap out 5 en' dat summer de typhoid fev'r
struck seben nigg'rs, en' de las' one uv 'm died spang
dead. Ain' nev'r had dat fev'r 'fo' er sence on de
place. But dey do say," continued Isam, now anxious
to communicate his extensive knowledge of the sub-
ject, "ef dem folks had n' burn de light'ud fum dat
tree, nuthin' 'd happ'n. Bet you can't git er nigg'r 'n
Baldwin County ter burn eny mo' uv de lightnin's
light'ud, en' mi'ty few go'n' ter rake pine straw 'bout
dere."
III.
The human race has certainly been evolved from a
barbaric into a partly civilized state. At odd seasons
the old instinct crops out and regains control of ns.
Major Worthington had entered upon his brief lapse
into savagery, though he did not realize it. Ill-
adapted as he was for foot- journeys of considerable
length, the flush of new freedom sustained him.
But the unwonted exercise told at last. A halt
must, perforce, soon have been ordered, when Isam
plunged over a sharp decline, and indicating a long
line of paler green and a denser growth in front, ex-
claimed :
" 'Mos' dere now ! '^
The Major knew the place. It was the line of the
Oconee River mapped in verdure. Reaching the wel-
come shade, he dropped down where Isam had already
pitched his bundle.
Mumbling after the fashion of old darkies, a mean-
ing smile upon his lips, which, after all, is but merely
thinking aloud, Isam brought from the weU-fiUed
depths of his kit a small stone jug. Soon, after cer-
tain rites and ceremonies appropriate to the occasion,
he approached the Major, and with a triumphant
10
TWO BUNAWAYS. H
flourish extended a large tumbler of red liquid from
which gracefully arose a small forest of mint.
^^ Dun foun' er noo spring," he said ; but the man
propped against the cypress was motionless, and his
hands were folded peacefully in his lap. Stooping
down, Isam peered cautiously under the broad hat-
brim, with the whispered ejaculation : " Lor' bless my
soul, ef he ain' dun gone ter sleep. I recken dat las'
ten-railer war pow'ful wurrin' ter 'r man 'r his fat.
Mass' Craffud ! Mass' Craffud ! " No answer came.
Getting down on his knees, he carefully inserted
with a spoon a few drops of the beverage between
the lips of the sleeper and allowed them to percolate
downward. As the "apple" of the tightened throat
darted up and glided down again into place, he whis-
pered :
" Mass' Craffud, es yer dun fainted ? "
The eyes opened, and the Major sat bolt upright.
The next minute he drained off the drink, and sat
contemplating the honest face, in whose eyes was a
peculiar look.
" T'ank de goodness ! " exclaimed Isam. " I bin er-
hold'n' dis hyah julup hyah fur half er hour. Ain'
nev'r known you ter balk at er julup 'fo' en forty
yeaurs ! "
" That came in the right time, Isam, and it 's good
whisky," said the Major heartily. "Where did you
get it?"
12 TWO BUNA WATS.
" Yessir/^ chuckled tlie negro, '^ hit 's good ; but hit
ain' good ter ask er stray hen w'at 's layen' en your
orchud whar she belong, er how many teef she got."
The Major realized that he had become a guest.
He laughed, sank back against the tree, and soon
again was lost in slumber. When he awoke there
had been a decided change in his surroundings. A
low fire burned a few yards away, and sundry flips of
bacon were browning in a frying-pan set jauntily
thereon, while from the ashes beneath the brown ends
of hoe-cakes protruded.
"T ain' but er bite," said Isam apologetically, ^^but
des' wait tell de fish git mixed up wid dem sum er dese
days, en' den you see w'at hit es ter be loos' en' free."
To be loose and free ! The Major fixed his eyes up-
on the old negro as he produced tin platters from his
kit and transferred the smoking viands, humble but
savory, from the frying-pan. The words haunted
him, and as the smoke arose there floated upon his
vision pictures of boyhood's escapades. Isam had
belonged to him from his own infancy, though for the
first fifteen years the question of ownership seemed
altogether unsettled, for the negro was five or six
years the senior. How they had hunted and strayed
off, and set gums for rabbits and snares for birds, and
robbed nests ! Loose and free ! Old Isam surveyed
with proud satisfaction the Major's fierce attack upon
the mominor meal.
TWO RUNAWAYS. 13
" Dere ain' no spring chicken en der pan," lie said
sententiously, " but er fuss-rate app'tite kin git des'
es good er grip on er flip er bacon es bit kin on er
yaller-leg' cbick'n."
" There is something in that/' said the Major. " Get
your flip, you black rascal, and go to eating." But
Isam shook his head.
^^ No, sah. Wen er nigger feeds he don' wan' no
w'ite folks roun\ He wan' ter git off en' mop de pan
'thout 'tract'n' 'tention ter hisse'f."
^^ It seems to me," said the Major, as he transferred
another flip of bacon to his platter, " that it must be
mighty hard for an honest nigger to live comfortably
out here."
Isam's face took on a look of personal injury.
"Er hones' nigg'r," he said, stirring up the ashes
and inserting fresh cake, " don' eat no mo' out hyah
den he do at home ; not a bit. Rashuns es rashuns
ennywhar you fine 'em. En' I hear say," he continued
significantly, " w'en folks goes er-vis'tin' dey don'
'quire es ter de year-marks uv de pig, w'en back-bone
en' spar'-ribs en' chine es sot out."
" Your idea of etiquette is perfectly sound, Isam."
" En' der only time w'en folks w'at 's vis'tin' got er
right ter git der backs up es w'en de gem'man feed
'esse'f high en' feed t' others low."
With an air of dignity the old negro gathered up
the remnants of the spread, the Major having fin-
14 TWO BUNA WAYS.
ished^ and retired to allay the pangs of an increased
appetite; but he was doomed to further delay. A
most profane ejaculation fell from the Major's lips
and came to his ears.
^^ Des' es I said, dere 't is ergin — terbacker, now."
He put aside the repast, and grumblingly mvestigated
the kit once more. ^' En' I reckon w'en he see dis yer
bag er terbacker he go'n' ter want hits ped'gree aU
way back."
Nevertheless he produced it with a handful of corn-
cob pipes, and cutting a reed stem handed to the
Major the finest smoking outfit in the world. As
Isam skilKuUy balanced a glowing coal upon the little
heap of tobacco, he concluded :
^' Somehow nuther sump'n said 'bout time de run-
away noshun struck in, ' Isam, you go'n' ter see
com'ny ter-day, en' hit 's go'n' ter be Mass' Craffud ' ;
so I des' laid in er extrer bag spesh'ly fur 'm."
The Major merely drew in and expelled a cloud of
smoke. He contented himself with saying, " You are
very thoughtful"; and laughing softly to him self,
Isam retired to his meal. As he finished, and stuffed
his own cob-pipe full of '' natural leaf " and perique —
brought along especially for his master — Isam cast
his eye skyward.
" Mos' ten er'clock. Mus' be movin' out er hyah.
Bimeby overseer en' houn' be 'long in er hurry. Got
ter git whar meat es thicker too. Dat bacon en' hoe-
TWO RUNAWAYS. 15
cake hard ter beat, but dey don' half fill de bill wid
er run' way nigg'r. Des' wait tweU we git er mess er
red-belly en' brim, en' I reck'n sho' nuff de fun go'n'
ter b'gin ter start. Time we uz go'n', Mass' Craffud."
The Major rose and followed cheerily. Skirting the
swamp, Isam soon found a hog-path, and presently
the runaways came in sight of the river. A bateau
was tied up in a little branch near by, and in it lay
an axe and a paddle.
"Isam," said the Major as he clambered in, "how
does it happen that you find a boat and axe all ready
here, and the runaway notion only struck you just
before day this morning ! "
Isam shook his head as he chuckled :
"Hit ain' de rite time er day ter 'splain t'ings,
Mass' Craffud. Dere ain' no tellin' w'at time dem
houn' 's go'n' ter strike er hot trail, en' de tree dat you
kin cHme ain' go'n' ter Hf you out'n de reach uv a
dog."
The little boat, propelled by vigorous strokes, shot
out into the river, and gliding under the willows bore
its passengers swiftly downstream.
IV,
Shut out from sight of the stream stretched a
Bermuda sward hemmed in by gigantic trees, in
whose boughs the cicadas were singing. The old
boyish enthusiasm rose strong within the Major.
^'•This is the camp/' he said, '^ and there/' pointing
to the log-jammed creek behind him, slowly mingling
its clear waters with the river's mud, " is the place for
bream and red-bellies." Isam fairly shouted.
" Dere, now, dey ain' nev'r no use tellin' er man wot
knows how ter fish whar ter drap er line. De two go
'long tergether. Des' you tek dese hyar lines, Mass>
Craffud, en' git reddy f er supper, w'ile I 'ten' ter de res'."
Throwing open his pack, Isam displayed his simple
tackle, hurried around and cut a pole from a neigh-
boring brake, and, peeling the bark from a fallen
tree, picked out a handful of flatheads. Adjusting
himself to a log, the Major cast his line and began
to draw in the bream.
" Dere, now," chuckled Isam, " I ain' seen you do
dat sence you was er-court'n Miss 'Mandy Bullard
en' we all wuz down ter Sykes's fish-pond."
But the Major was landing fish, and did not have
time to listen to Isam; observing which, that indi-
16
TWO RUNAWAYS. 17
vidual, casting an inquiring glance at the sun, seized
his axe and went to work in the canebrake. In an
incredibly short space of time he had cut down and
dragged up enough poles to construct a rude hut, and
soon after completed the shanty. Then, with one
happy glance at the fugitive perched upon the log
contentedly warring with the bream, he glided off
into the woods and disappeared from view.
Despite the popular notion concerning the runaway
negro, he never got very far from civilization in his
wanderings. The swamp was to him merely a retreat.
His smoke-house was elsewhere. When Isam glided
away leaving the Major pleasantly engaged, he fol-
lowed hog-paths with unerring instinct and recalled
landmarks with surprising accuracy. But where he
was going and for what are matters that can wait.
The Major must not be left alone.
Isam had not been long gone before the fisherman
began to suffer from the perversity of the piscatorial
god. The bream and red-belly ceased to bite. The
colony had been exhausted or driven away ; and in
its place settled a tribe of shining cats. These began
to give the Major occupation. His float would go
under handsomely; there would be a strong pull,
and, resisting steadily, a cat-fish would break into
view.
The Major stood this persecution, it may be, for
fifteen minutes; then the patience of the fisherman
18 TWO EUXAWAYS.
was exhausted. As the hour wore away, I regret to
say that the swearing became ahnost continuous, and
the Major reached what is generally termed a " state
of mind."
Isam was approaching the camp when the language
of the fisher attracted his attention.
" Oomhoo,'^ he said, stopping to listen. " Sum'n'
dun gone wron^ wid Mass' Craffud.^'
Creeping to the edge of the brake, he beheld his
companion engaged in his unequal conflict with the
fate that at times overtakes all fishers. Isam ducked
back and held his sides.
'^ Ef dere 's anyt'n' go'n' ter upsot dat kind er man
quick, hit 's cats. Des' liss'n now ! "
The negro peeped out again. The Major was lash-
ing the water with an unfortunate victim ; then he
saw the irate fisherman drop a huge cat upon the
bank, and with the paddle dash him to pieces, and
again grind another beneath his heel, and end by
kicking the remains far out into the stream.
Isam reveled in this display of passion until wearied
out, and then prepared to make his presence known.
Going back a hundred yards into the canebrake, he
shouldered his weU-stuffed sack, and lifted his voice
in song :
" Sum folks say nigg'r won' steal ;
I cauglit one in my co'n-fiel'."
He was cheerfully giving expression to this sug-
TWO RUNAWAYS. 19
gestive refrain, when he broke in npon the scene and
pretended to stumble over a gasping cat. Down came
his bag.
*^ Dere, now. Ef I cood pick'd de ve'y fish I wanted
fur ter mek dat chowder, hit ^u'd er been dis same cat."
Isam's teeth shone and his eyes glistened. As he
looked about and saw the other unwelcome captives
he threw up his hands.
" Where you catch ^m, Mass' Craff ud ? "
"Right here," said the Major, regarding him sus-
piciously; "and I have n't been catching anything
else for an hour."
" Den don' yer stop now 5 you des' go rite 'long
ketchin' 'em, en' we go'n' ter hav' er chowder fum
'way back. 'Spec' we '11 want 'bout six more big ones.
How long es hit bin sence you had a cat-fish chowd'r,
Mass'Craffud?"
The Major's passion was vanishing.
" About twenty years, I reckon, Isam."
" "Well, den, hit ain' go'n' ter be twenty years 'fo'
you git ernuther. I 'm go'n' to git ev'n wV dese hyah
bigmouf s en 'bout er minit. Lor' ! Lor' ! Es I wuz
cummin' 'long back I kep' a-say'n', 'Now Mass' Craffud
ain' go'n' ter ketch nuthin' but brim er yaller-belly
w'at ain' good fer chowd'r meat, en' all dis co'n en'
yinguns gotter be eat des' dry so ' ] en' bless goodness,
hyah 's de chowd'r dun ha'f made en' lyin' reddy." And
Isam began to shake his own prizes from the bag.
20 TWO BUNA WAYS.
" Where did you get that corn ? " The Major fixed
his eye sternly upon the nonchalant babbler.
" Dis co'n/' said Isam, shucking an ear, " es w'at
dey calls ' vol'nterry co'n.' Hit es co'n w'at cum up
fum las' year seed w'at de river en' de hog scatter.
En' dese yinguns es uv de wil' kine w'at es always up
en' er-doin'." The Major made no reply, but fixing
a newflathead on his hook cast it far into the stream.
Above a blazing fire Isam soon had his kettle
swinging, and within its depths sputtered great
chunks of fish as they rose and sank in a lake of
green corn and onions. With the earnestness of a
wizard preparing his strange concoctions, he hung
over the boiling mixture, adding here a pinch of pep-
per and there a dash of salt. As he stirred the SLvory
mess he sang a cheerful plantation ditty. The dusk
of evening had fallen, and the red light of the flames
brought out his figure in bold relief. He seemed a
veritable genius of the swamp, and, lured from his
sport by the cheerful picture and the odor of the
meal, the Major cast his line down and strode into the
lighted circle.
To OTHER pens must be left the record of the run-
aways' every-day life. These pages would not hold
the true chronicle of this novel expedition. Here
only is space enough to deal with the prominent feat-
ures and string them upon a particolored thread.
Day after day the fishermen plied their rods. Day
after day the kettle and the skillet and the coals gave
forth their dainties. Fish-fries decked the table one
day; a split rabbit, snared in the canebrake, broiled
to a turn, served for the next ; even a tender shote
yielded up his innocent young life, and chowders
came thick and fast.
But Isam was no longer the chief factor in the
daily sins committed. Painful as the truth may
seem, it must be told. The portly Major became
accessory before the fact as well as after. And worse,
he became actively particeps criminis. He learned to
creep into the spreading field of " voluntary corn '^ —
which, by the way, invaded the swamp lands, and rose
in columns of surprising regularity — and to load a
bag with the juicy ears. He renewed his early skill,
and crawled behind snake-fences to abstract dew-
21
22 TWO RUNAWAYS.
christened watermelons. In short, he gave way to sav-
agery J for the time being civilization knew him not.
No especial time for breaking camp had been set,
but the time was approaching, and the signs were
evident. The whisky had long since vanished, and
the tobacco was threatening to follow the whisky,
when an event occurred which left a tradition that
old folks in middle Georgia yet tell with tear-dimmed
eyes and straining sides.
The worthy pair had been foraging for dinner, and
were returning heavily laden. The Major bore a sack
of corn, and Isam led the way with three watermelons.
Unless the reader has attempted to carry three water-
melons, he will never know the labor that Isam had
imposed upon himself. The two had just reached the
edge of the canebrake, beyond which lay the camp,
and were entering the narrow path, when a magnifi-
cent buck came sweeping through, and collided with
Isam with such force and suddenness as to crush and
spatter his watermelons into a pitiful ruin, and throw
the negro violently to the ground. Instantly the
frightened man seized the threatening antlers, and
held on, yelling lustily for help. The deer made
several ineffectual efforts to free himself, during
which he dragged the negro right and left with-
out difficulty, but, finding escape impossible, turned
fiercely upon his unwilling captor, and tried to drive
the terrible horns through his writhing body.
TWO RUNAWAYS. 23
^^ O Lord, O Lord ! '' screamed Isam ; " O Lord,
Mass' Craffud, cum holp me tu'n dis buck loos'."
The laugh died away from Major Worthington's
lips. None knew better than he the danger into
which Isam had plunged. Not a stick, brush, stone,
or weapon of any description was at hand, except
his small pocket-knife. Hastily opening that, he
rushed upon the deer. Isam's eyes were bursting
from their sockets, and appealed piteously for the
help his stentorian voice was frantically imploring
until the woods rang with his agony. Major Worth-
ington caught the nearest antler with his left hand,
and made a fierce lunge at the animal's throat. But
the knife's point was missing, and only a trifling
wound was inflicted. The next instant the deer met
the new attack with a rush that carried Isam with it,
and thrust the Major to the ground, the knife falling
out of reach. Seeing this, the negro let go his hold,
rolled out of the way, and with a mighty effort liter-
ally ran upon the top of a branching haw-bush, where
he lay spread out like a bat, and moaning piteously.
" Stick ter 'im. Mass' Craffud, stick ter 'im ! Wo'
deer ! wo' deer ! Stick ter 'im. Mass' Craffud ! "
And the Major stuck. Retaining his presence of
mind, he threw his left arm over the deer's neck, and,
still holding with his right the antler, looked about
for Isam, who had so mysteriously disappeared.
Something like the hold he had had more than once
24 TWO RUNAWAYS.
in boyhood served him well in school combats. But
he had never tried to hold a full-grown buck, and so
he somewhat anxiously searched the scene for the
valiant negro. The first words he heard distinctly
were:
" Stick ter 'im, Mass' Craffud, stick ter 'im. Hit 's
better fur one ter die den bof e ! Hole 'im, Mass' Craf-
f ud, hole 'im ! Wo' deer ! wo' deer ! Stick ter 'im,
Mass' Craffud. Steddy ! Look out fur es ho'n ! Wo'
deer I Steddy, Mass' Craff ud ! "
By this time the struggles of the beast had again
ceased, and, wearied from his double encounter, he
stood with his head pulled down to the ground half
astride the desperate man, who was holding on for
life. Whether Major Worthington was frightened or
not it is hard to say ; probably he was ; but there was
no doubt about his being angry when he saw Isam
spread out in the haw-bush, and heard his address.
His face was livid with rage, and foam and sweat
mingled upon it. As soon as he caught his breath,
he burst forth with :
" You infernal black rascal ! why don't you come —
down out of that — bush and help — me?" Isam's
face was pitiful in its expression. His teeth chattered,
and he fairly shook the bush with his trembling.
" Don', Mass' Craffud, don' ; you ain' got no time ter
cuss now. Lif up yo' voice en' pray ! Lord, Lord, ef
ev'r er man had er call ter pray, you dun got it now."
--^-A
TWO BUNA WAYS. 25
For one instant it looked as if the Major would
abandon his attempt to hold the deer and turn his
attention to the bushj but he did not have an, oppor-
tunity to carry out such a resolution. Revived by his
moment's rest, the buck made another effort for free-
dom and revenge. He dragged his corpulent captor
in a circle, he rolled him on the sod, he fell over him,
pounded him, and stamped, but without relief. The
desperate man clung to his hold with a grip that could
not be broken. It was the grip of death ; indeed, it
was now a question of life or death.
Wearied down at last, the deer gave himseK and
victim another breathing- spell, and the Major con-
tinued :
"If ever — I get loose from this — brute, — you in-
fernal scoundrel, — I'LL not leave a — whole bone in
your body ! ''
" Don' say dat, Mass' Craffud, don' ! You must n't
let de sun go down on yo' wraf ! O Lord ! " he con-
tinued, getting on his all-fours and as near a reverent
posture as the circumstances would admit of, " don'
you mine nuth'n' he es er-sayin' now, cos he ain' 'spon-
s'bl'. Lord, ef de bes' aingil you got wuz down dere
in his fix, en' er fool deer wuz er-straddl'n' 'im, dey
ain' no teU'n' w'at 'u'd happ'n, er w'at sorter langwidge
he 'd let loos'. Wo' deer! wo' deer! Stick ter 'im.
Mass' Craffud, stick ter 'im. Steddy, deer ! Steddy,
Mass' Craffud ! "
26 TWO RUNAWAYS.
The Major got another resting-spell. By this time
his breath was almost gone, and his anger had given
way to unmistakable apprehension. He realized that
he was in a most desperate plight, and that the only
hope of rescue lay in the frightened negro up in the
haw-bush. He changed his tactics when the deer
rested again.
^^ Isam/' he said gently.
" Yes, honey.''
" Isam, come and help me, old fellow.''
" Good Gawd, Mass' Craffud," said the negro earn-
estly, " dere ain' nuthin' I wood n' do fur you, but hit 's
better fur one ter die 'n two. Hit 's a long sight
better."
'^ But there is no danger, Isam ; none whatever.
Just you come down and with your knife hamstring
the brute. I '11 hold him."
" No, sah ! no, sah ! no, sah ! " said Isam loudly and
with growing earnestness. " No, sah ! it won' wuk.
No, sah ! You er in fur hit now. Mass' Craffud, en' et
can't be holped. Dere ain' nuthin' kin save yer but
de good Lord, en' he ain' go'n' ter, less'n you ax 'im
'umble like, en' er-b'liev'n' en es mussy. I prayed
w'en I wuz down dere. Mass' Craffud, dat I did, en'
look w'at happ'n. Did n' he sen' you like er aingil, en'
did n' he git me up hyah safe en' wholesum ? Dat he
did, en' he nev'r 'spec' dis nigg'r war go'n' ter fling
'esse'f und'r dat deer arter he trouble hisse'f to show
TWO RUNAWAYS. 27
'im up hyah. Stick ter 'im, Mass' Craffud, stick ter
'im. Wo' deer ! wo' deer ! Look out fur es ho'n !
Stick ter 'im, Mass' Craffud. Dere, now — t'ank de
Lord ! "
Again the Major got a breathing-spell. The deer
in his struggles had gotten under the haw-bush, and
the Major renewed his earnest negotiations.
"Isam," he said, as soon as his condition would
allow of conversation, ^4f you will get down — and
cut this brute's legs — I will give you your freedom."
Isam's only answer was a groan.
"And fifty acres — of land." Again that pitiful
moan.
*^ And — a mule and a — year's rations." The Major
paused from force of circumstances. After a while
the answer came :
"Mass' Craffud!"
"Well?^'
" You know dis nigg'r b'en hard-work'n' en' hones'
en' look atter you en' yo'n all es life."
"Yes, Isam," said the Major, "you have been— a
faithful, honest— nigger." There was another pause.
Perhaps this was too much for Isam. But he con-
tinued after a little while :
" Well, lemme tell you, honey, dere ain' nuthin' you
got er kin git w'at '11 tem' dis nigg'r ter git down dere.
W'y," and his voice assumed a most earnest and
argumentative tone, "'deed 'n' hit 'u'd be 'sultin' de
28 TWO RUNAWAYS.
Lord. Ain' lie dun got me up hyah out'n de way, en'
don' he 'spec' me fur ter stay ? You reck'n lie got
nuth'n' 't all ter do but keep puttin' Isum back up er
tree ? No, sab ! be dun 'ten' ter me, en' ef you got
enny dif culty down dere, you en' de deer kin figbt it
out. Hit 's my bizness des' ter keep er-prayin'. Wo'
deer ! wo' deer ! Steddy, Mass' Craffud. Dere, now —
t'ankdeLord!"
Again the Major defeated the beast's struggles, and
there came a truce. But the man was well-nigh ex-
hausted, and saw that unless something was done in
his behalf he must soon yield up the fight. Some-
thing like a spasm of fear flashed over his face, and in
the glance he cast about him there was the one panic-
stricken appeal that all men yield to at some time. It
was hard to die there by the terrible horns of the
beast astride him, whose eyes glared into his, and
whose hot breath was in his face. What a death !
But the next instant he was calm and cautious.
There came to his assistance his fine knowledge of
the negro character.
"Isam," he said, slowly and impressively. But
Isam was praying. The Major could hardly trust his
ears when he heard the words.
" But, Lord, don' let 'm peer'sh 'fo' yo' eyes. He 's
b'en er bad man. He cuss 'n' sware, 'n' play keerds,
'n' bet on horse-race, 'n' drink whisky "
"Isam "
TWO BUXAWAYS. 29
" En' lie steal — ^oo6.7iess, he tek ter steaPn' like er
duck ter water. Roast'n' yers, watermilluns, chick'n
— niithin' too bad f ui* 'im. "
^^sam "
^"T ain' like er nigger steaPn', Lord ; dey dun know
no better, en' can't git t'ings enny er-way, while he got
money ; but don' let 'im peer'sh rite 'f o' yo' eyes. Tek
him by de slack er es briches en' shek 'm ov'r de
flames, but don' let 'im drap "
'^sam!"
The word came upward in tones of thunder. Even
Isam was obliged to regard it. He did so from force
of habit.
" Yessir."
Then he sobbed forth : '' Oh, Lordy, Lordy, I t'ot
we wuz dun home ag'in."
"No, sir," said the Major sternly, "we are not at
home, and I '11 never get there. I am going to die."
Isam gave a yell that ought to have been heard a
mile away.
" Oh, don' let 'im die ! Skeer 'im, skeer 'im. Lord,
but don' let 'im die ! "
"Yes," continued the Major, "I am going to die;
but let me tell you something, Isam. I have been
looking into this beast's eyes until I recognize him."
A sound came from the haw-bush like the hiss of a
snake, as the negro with ashen face and beaded brow
gasped out an unintelligible word. The right chord
30 TWO RUNAWAYS.
had been touched at last. " You remember Dr.
Sam ? " Isam's only reply was a moan that betrayed
an agony too deep for expression. " Well, this is
Dr. Sam ; he got loose the other day when the plug
fell out, and he and I will never give you another
hour of peace as long as you live ."
The sentence was never finished. With a shriek
that was blood-curdling in its intensity of fear and
horror, the negro came crashing down through the
bush with his hands full of leaves, straight upon the
deer.
This was the crisis.
The frightened animal made one desperate plunge,
taking the startled Major by surprise, and the next
instant found himself free. He did not remain upon
the scene, or he would have beheld the teriified negro
get upon his feet, run round in a frenzy of terror, and
close his last circle at the foot of the bush, up which
he scurried again like a squirrel, old as he was. The
Major lay flat upon his back, after trying in vain to
rise. Then the reaction came. He fixed his eye upon
the negro above and laughed until the tears washed
the dirt from his face -, and Isam, holding his head up
so that his vision could encompass the narrow hori-
zon, said slowly and impressively :
^^ Mass' Craffud, ef de Lord had n't 'sist'd on Isum
cum'n' down ter run dat deer off, 'spec' by dis time
you 'd been er-flopp'n' yo' wings up yander, er else
TWO BUNAWAYS. 31
sput^n' on er grindi'on down yander/^ And from his
elevated perch Isam indicated the two extremes of
eternity with an eloquent sweep of his hand.
But the Major had small time for laughter or re-
crimination. In the distance there rang out faintly
the full-mouthed cry of a hound. Isam heard it. For
him it was at once a welcome and a stimulating sound.
Gliding to the ground^ he helped the wearied Major
to his feet, and started on the run for the boat, cry-
ing:
" Run, Mass' Craffud ! wors' 'n er deer 's cummin^
Hit 's dem folks w'at know about dat corn en' water-
miUuns, en' yer can't 'splain nuthin' ter er houn' dog."
Broken down as he was, the Major realized that
there was wisdom in the negro's words, and followed
as best he could. The camp traps were thrown into
the boat, and the little bark was launched. A
minute later the form of a great thirsty-looking
hound, the runaways' Mte noire, appeared on the
scene. But the hunters who came after found naught
beyond the signs of a camp, if they found anything,
and soon followed the hound, which had regained the
trail of the buck, and yelping passed into the dis-
tance. The boat had long since passed the bend.
How Isam ever settled his difficulty needs no ex-
planation. But it may interest the reader to know
that one day he bore a message and a check that set-
tled the corn and melon debt j and they tell it in mid-
32 TWO RUNAWAYS.
die Georgia that every year thereafter, until the war-
cloud broke over the land, whenever the catalpa worm
crept upon the leaf two runaways fled from Wood-
haven and dwelt in the swamps, " loos' en free."
ELDER BROWN'S BACKSLIDE.
I.
^LDER BROWN told his wife good-by
at the farm-house door as mechanically
L^)J ^^ though his proposed trip to Macon,
^j|, ten miles away, was an every-day affair,
while as a matter of fact many years
had elapsed since unaccompanied he set foot in the
city. He did not kiss her. Many very good men
never kiss their wives. But small blame attaches to
the elder for his omission on this occasion, since his
wife had long ago discouraged all amorous demon-
strations on the part of her liege lord, and at this par-
ticular moment was filling the parting moments with
a rattling list of directions concerning thread, but-
tons, hooks, needles, and all the many etceteras of an
industrious housewife's basket. The elder was labori-
ously assorting these postscript commissions in his
memory, well knowing that to return with any one
of them neglected would cause trouble in the family
circle.
He mounted his patient steed that stood sleepily
motionless in the warm sunlight, with his great
34 ELDER BROWN'S BACKSLIDE.
pointed ears displayed to the right and left, as
though their owner had grown tired of the life
burden their weight inflicted upon him, and was,
old soldier fashion, ready to forego the once rigid
alertness of early training for the pleasures of fre-
quent rest on arms.
^^ And, Elder, don^t you f orgit them caliper scraps,
or you '11 be wantin' kiver soon an' no kiver will be a-
comin'."
Elder Brown did not turn his head, but merely let
the whip hand, which had been checked in its back-
ward motion, fall as he answered mechanically. The
beast he bestrode responded with a rapid whisking
of its tail and a great show of effort, as it ambled off
down the sandy road, the rider's long legs seeming
now and then to touch the ground.
But as the zigzag panels of the rail fence crept be-
hind him, and he felt the freedom of the morning
beginning to act upon his well-trained blood, the
mechanical manner of the old man's mind gave place
to a mild exuberance. A weight seemed to be lifting
from it ounce by ounce as the fence panels, the weedy
corners, the persimmon sprouts, and sassafras bushes
crept away behind him, so that by the time a mile lay
between him and the life partner of his joys and sor-
rows he was in a reasonably contented frame of mind,
and still improving.
It was a queer figure that crept along the road that
ELDER BROWN'S BACKSLIDE. 35
cheery May morning. It was tall and gaunt, and had
been for tbii'ty years or more. The long head, bald
on top, covered behind with iron-gray hair, and in
front with a short tangled growth that curled and
kinked in every direction, was surmounted by an old-
fashioned stove-pipe hat, worn and stained, but emi-
nently impressive. An old-fashioned Henry Clay
cloth coat, stained and threadbare, divided itself im-
partially over the donkey's back and dangled on his
sides. This was all that remained of the elder's wed-
ding suit of forty years ago. Only constant care,
and use of late years limited to extra occasions, had
preserved it so long. The trousers had soon parted
company with their friends. The substitutes were
red jeans, which, while they did not well match his
court costume, were better able to withstand the old
man's abuse, for if, in addition to his frequent relig-
ious excursions astride his beast, there ever was a
man who was fond of sitting down with his feet
higher than his head, it was this self -same Elder
Brown.
The morning expanded, and the old man expanded
with it; for, while a vigorous leader in his church,
the elder at home was, it must be admitted, an un-
complaining slave. To the intense astonishment of
the beast he rode, there came new vigor into the
whacks which fell upon his flanks 5 and the beast al-
lowed astonishment to surprise him into real life and
36 ELDER BROWN'S BACKSLIDE.
decided motion. Somewhere in the elder's expanding
soul a tune had begun to ring. Possibly he took up the
far faint tune that came from the straggling gang of
negroes away off in the field, as they slowly chopped
amid the thread-like rows of cotton plants which lined
the level ground, for the melody he hummed softly
and then sang strongly, in the quavering, catchy
tones of a good old country churchman, was, ^' I 'm
glad salvation 's free.'^
It was during the singing of this hymn that Elder
Brown's regular motion-inspiring strokes were for
the first time varied. He began to hold his hickory
up at certain pauses in the melody, and beat the
changes upon the sides of his astonished steed. The
chorus under this arrangement was,
'* I 'm glad salvation 'sfree,
I 'm glad salvation 's free,
I 'm glad salvation '^free for all,
I 'm glad salvation ^^free."
Wherever there is an italic, the hickory descended.
It fell about as regularly and after the fashion of the
stick beating upon the bass drum during a funeral
march. But the beast, although convinced that
something serious was impending, did not consider a
funeral march appropriate for the occasion. He pro-
tested, at first, with vigorous whiskings of his tail
and a rapid shifting of his ears. Finding these dem-
onstrations unavailing, and convinced that some ur-
ELDER BROWN'S BACKSLIDE. 37
gent cause for hurry had suddenly invaded the elder's
serenity as Jt had his own, he began to cover the
ground with frantic leaps that would have surprised
his owner could he have realized what was going on.
But Elder Brown's eyes were half closed, and he was
singing at the top of his voice. Lost in a trance of
divine exaltation, for he felt the effects of the invig-
orating motion, bent only on making the air ring with
the lines which he dimly imagined were drawing upon
him the eyes of the whole female congregation, he
was supremely unconscious that his beast was hurry-
ing. And thus the excursion proceeded, until sud-
denly a shote, surprised in his calm search for roots
in a fence corner, darted into the road, and stood for
an instant gazing upon the new-comers with that
idiotic stare which only a pig can imitate. The sud-
den appearance of this unlooked-for apparition acted
strongly upon the donkey. With one supreme effort
he collected himself into a motionless mass of matter,
bracing his front legs wide apart ] that is to say, he
stopped short. There he stood, returning the pig's
idiotic stare with an interest which must have led to
the presumption that never before in all his varied
life had he seen such a singular little creature. End
over end went the man of prayer, finally bringing up
fuU. length in the sand, striking just as he should
have shouted ^^ free " for the fourth time in his glo-
rious chorus.
38 ELDER BROWN'S BACKSLIDE.
Fully convinced that his alarm had been well
founded, the shote sped out from under the gigantic
missile hurled at him by the donkey, and scampered
down the road, turning first one ear and then the
other to detect any sounds of pursuit. The donkey,
also convinced that the object before which he had
halted was supernatural, started back violently upon
seeing it apparently turn to a man. But seeing that
it had turned to nothing but a man, he wandered up
into the deserted fence corner, and began to nibble
refreshment from a scrub oak.
For a moment the elder gazed up into the sky, half
impressed with the idea that the camp-meeting plat-
form had given way. But the truth forced its way to
the front in his disordered understanding at last, and
with painful dignity he staggered into an upright
position, and regained his beaver. He was shocked
again. Never before in all the long years it had
served him had he seen it in such shape. The
truth is. Elder Brown had never before tried to stand
on his head in it. As calmly as possible he began to
straighten it out, caring but little for the dust upon
his garments. The beaver was his special crown of
dignity. To lose it was to be reduced to a level with
the common wool-hat herd. He did his best, pulling,
pressing, and pushing, but the hat did not look nat-
ural when he had finished. It seemed to have been
laid off into counties, sections, and town-lots. Like
ELDER BROWN'S BACKSLIDE. 39
a well-cut jewel, it had a face for him, view it from
whatever point he chose, a quality which so impressed
him that a lump gathered in his throat, and his eyes
winked vigorously.
Elder Brown was not, however, a man for tears.
He was a man of action. The sudden vision which
met his wandering gaze, the donkey calmly chewing
scrub buds, with the green juice already oozing from
the corners of his frothy mouth, acted upon him like
magic. He was, after all, only human, and when he
got hands upon a piece of brush, he thrashed the
poor beast until it seemed as though even its already
half -tanned hide would be eternally ruined. Thor-
oughly exhausted at last, he wearily straddled his
saddle, and with his chin upon his breast resumed the
early morning tenor of his way.
11.
" G-OOD-MORNIN^, sir."
Elder Brown leaned over the little pine picket
which divided the book-keepers' department of a
Macon warehouse from the room in general, and sur-
veyed the well-dressed back of a gentleman who was
busily figuring at a desk within. The apartment was
carpetless, and the dust of a decade lay deep on the
old books, shelves, and the f amiUar advertisements of
guano and fertilizers which decorated the room. An
old stove, rusty with the nicotine contributed by
farmers during the previous season while waiting by
its glowing sides for their cotton to be sold, stood
straight up in a bed of sand, and festoons of cobwebs
clung to the upper sashes of the murky windows.
The lower sash of one window had been raised, and
in the yard without, nearly an acre in extent, lay a
few bales of cotton, with jagged holes in their ends,
just as the sampler had left them. Elder Brown had
time to notice all these familiar points, for the figure
at the desk kept serenely at its task, and deigned no
reply.
" Good-mornin', sir,'' said Elder Brown again, in his
most dignified tones. " Is Mr. Thomas in ? "
^0
ELDER BROWN'S BACKSLIDE. 41
" Good-morning, sir," said the figure. " I '11 wait
on you in a minute." The minute passed, and four
more joined it. Then the desk man turned.
" Well, sir, what can I do for you ? "
The elder was not in the best of humor when he ar-
rived, and his state of mind had not improved. He
waited full a minute as he surveyed the man of busi-
ness.
'^I thought I mout be able to make some arrange-
ments with you to git some money, but I reckon I
was mistaken." The warehouseman came nearer.
^' This is Mr. Brown, I believe. I did not recognize
you at once. You are not in often to see us."
" No ; my wife usually 'tends to the town bizness,
while I run the church and farm. Got a fall from my
donkey this morning," he said, noticing a quizzical,
interrogating look upon the face before him, "and
fell squar' on the hat." He made a pretense of smooth-
ing it. The man of business had already lost interest.
" How much money will you want, Mr. Brown ! "
"Well, about seven hundred dollars," said the
elder, replacing his hat, and turning a furtive look
upon the warehouseman. The other was tapping
with his pencil upon the little shelf lying across the
rail.
" I can get you five hundred."
"But I oughter have seven."
" Can't arrange for that amount. Wait till later in
42 ELBEB BROWN'S BACKSLIDE,
the season, and come again. Money is very tight
now. How much cotton will you raise % "
" Well, I count on a hundred bales. An' you can't
git the sev'n hundr'd dollars ? "
'' Like to oblige you, but can't right now ] will fix it
for you later on."
" Well," said the elder, slowly, " fix up the papers
for five, an' I ^11 make it go as far as possible."
The papers were drawn. A note was made out for
$552.50, for the interest was at one and a half per
cent, for seven months, and a mortgage on ten mules
belonging to the elder was drawn and signed. The
elder then promised to send his cotton to the wai^e-
house to be sold in the fall, and with a curt "Anything
else ? " and a " Thankee, that 's all," the two parted.
Elder Brown now made an effort to recall the sup-
plemental commissions shouted to him upon his de-
parture, intending to execute them first, and then
take his written list item by item. His mental resolves
had just reached this point when a new thought made
itseK known. Passers-by were puzzled to see the old
man suddenly snatch his head-piece off and peer with
an intent and awe-struck air into its irregular cav-
ern. Some of them were shocked when he suddenly
and vigorously ejaculated,
" Hannah-Maria- Jemimy ! goldarn an' blue blazes !"
He had suddenly remembered having placed his
memoranda in that hat, and as he studied its empty
ELDER BROWN'S BACKSLIDE. 43
depths his mind pictured the important scrap flutter-
ing along the sandy scene of his early-morning tum-
ble. It was this that caused him to graze an oath
with less margin than he had allowed himself in
twenty years. What would the old lady say ? ,
Alas ! Elder Brown knew too well. What she
would not say was what puzzled him. But as he
stood bare-headed in the sunlight a sense of utter
desolation came and dwelt with him. His eye rested
upon sleeping Balaam anchored to a post in the street,
and so, as he recalled the treachery that lay at the
base of all his afiliction, gloom was added to the deso-
lation.
To turn back and search for the lost paper would
have been worse than useless. Only one course was
open to him, and at it went the leader of his people.
He called at the grocery ; he invaded the recesses of
the dry-goods establishments j he ransacked the hard-
ware stores 5 and wherever he went he made life a
burden for the clerks, overhauling show-cases and
pulling down whole shelves of stock. Occasionally
an item of his memoranda would come to light, and
thrusting his hand into his capacious pocket, where
lay the proceeds of his check, he would pay for it on
the spot, and insist on having it rolled up. To the
suggestion of the slave whom he had in charge for
the time being, that the articles be laid aside until he
had finished, he would not listen.
44 ELDER BROWN'S BACKSLIDE.
" Now you look here, sonny/' he said, in the dry-
goods store ; ^^ I 'm conducting this revival, an' I don't
need no help in my line. Just you tie them stockin's
up an' lemme have 'em. Then I hnow I 've got 'em."
As each purchase was promptly paid for, and change
had to be secured, the clerk earned his salary for that
day at least.
So it was when, near the heat of the day, the good
man arrived at the drug-store, the last and only un-
visited division of trade, he made his appearance
equipped with half a hundred packages, which nes-
tled in his arms and bulged out about the sections of
his clothing that boasted of pockets. As he deposited
his deck-load upon the counter, great drops of per-
spiration rolled down his face and over his water-
logged collar to the floor.
There was a something exquisitely refreshing in the
great glasses of foaming soda that a spruce young
man was drawing from a marble fountain, above
which half a dozen polar bears in an ambitious print
were disporting themselves. There came a break in
the run of customers, and the spruce young man,
having swept the foam from the marble, dexterously
lifted a glass from the revolving rack which had rinsed
it with a fierce little stream of water, and asked me-
chanically, as he caught the intense look of the per-
spiring elder, " What schrup, sir ? "
Now it had not occurred to the elder to drink soda,
ELDER BROWN'S BACKSLIDE, 45
but the suggestion, coming as it did in his exhausted
state, was overpowering. He drew near awkwardly,
put on his glasses, and examined the list of syrups
with great care. The young man, being for the
moment at leisure, surveyed critically the gaunt fig-
ure, the faded bandana, the antique claw-hammer
coat, and the battered stove-pipe hat, with a gradually
relaxing countenance. He even called the prescrip-
tion clerk's attention by a cough and a quick jerk of
the thumb. The prescription clerk smiled feebly, and
continued his assaults upon a piece of blue mass.
"I reckon," said the elder, resting his hands upon
his knees and bending down to the list, ^^you may
gimme sassprilla an' a little strawberry. Sassprilla 's
good for the blood this time er year, an' strawberry 's
good any time."
The spruce young man let the syrup stream into
the glass as he smiled affably. Thinking, perhaps, to
draw out the odd character, he ventured upon a jest
himself, repeating a pun invented by the man who
made the first soda fountain. With a sweep of his
arm he cleared away the swarm of insects as he re-
marked, " People who like a fly in theirs are easily
accommodated."
It was from sheer good-nature only that Elder
Brown replied, with his usual broad social smile,
^* Well, a fly now an' then don't hurt nobody."
Now if there is anybody in the world who prides
46 ELDER BBOWN'S BACKSLIDE.
himself on knowing a thing or two, it is the spruce
young man who presides over a soda fountain. This
particular young gentleman did not even deem a reply
necessary. He vanished an instant, and when he re-
turned a close observer might have seen that the mix-
ture in the glass he bore had slightly changed color
and increased in quantity. But the elder saw only
the whizzing stream of water dart into its center, and
the rosy foam rise and tremble on the glass's rim.
The next instant he was holding his breath and sip-
ping the cooling drink.
As Elder Brown paid his small score he was at peace
with the world. I firmly believe that when he had
finished his trading, and the little blue-stringed pack-
ages had been stored away, could the poor donkey
have made his appearance at the door, and gazed with
his meek, fawn-like eyes into his master's, he would
have obtained full and free forgiveness.
Elder Brown paused at the door as he was about to
leave. A rosy-cheeked school-girl was just lifting a
creamy mixture to her lips before the fountain. It
was a pretty picture, and he turned back, resolved to
indulge in one more glass of the delightful beverage
before beginning his long ride homeward.
"Fix it up again, sonny," he said, renewing his
broad, confiding smile, as the spruce young man
poised a glass inquiringly. The living automaton
went through the same motions as before, and again
Elder Brown quaffed the fatal mixture.
ELDER BROWN'S BACKSLIDE. 47
What a singular power is habit ! Up to this time
Elder Brown had been entirely innocent of transgres-
sion, but, with the old alcoholic fire in his veins,
twenty years dropped from his shoulders, and a feel-
ing came over him familiar to every man who has
been "in his cups." As a matter of fact, the elder
would have been a confirmed drunkard twenty years
before had his wife been less strong-minded. She
took the reins into her own hands when she found
that his business and strong drink did not mix well,
worked him into the church, and sustained his reso-
lutions by making it difficult and dangerous for him
to get to his toddy. She became the business head
of the family, and he the spiritual. Only at rare
intervals did he ever " backslide " during the twenty
years of the new era, and Mrs. Brown herseK used
to say that the '^ sugar in his^n turned to gall before
the backslide ended." People who knew her never
doubted it.
But Elder Brown's sin during the remainder of the
day contained an element of responsibility. As he
moved majestically down toward where Balaam slept
in the sunlight he felt no fatigue. There was a glow
upon his cheek-bones, and a faint tinge upon his
prominent nose. He nodded familiarly to people as
he met them, and saw not the look of amusement
which succeeded astonishment upon the various faces.
When he reached the neighborhood of Balaam it sud-
denly occurred to him that he might have forgotten
48 ELDER BROWN'S BACKSLIDE.
some one of his numerous commissions, and he paused
to think. Then a brilliant idea rose in his mind. He
would forestall blame and disarm anger with kind-
ness — he would purchase Hannah a bonnet.
What woman's heart ever failed to soften at sight
of a new bonnet ?
As I have stated, the elder was a man of action.
He entered a store near at hand.
" Good-morning," said an affable gentleman with a
Hebrew countenance, approaching.
" Good-mornin', good-mornin', '^ said the elder,
piling his bundles on the counter. '^I hope you
are well % " Elder Brown extended his hand fervidly.
" Quite weU, I thank you. What ''
" And the little wife ? " said Elder Brown, affection-
ately retaining the Jew's hand.
^^ Quite well, sir."
^^ And the little ones — quite well, I hope, too ? "
" Yes, sir 5 all well, thank you. Something I can
do for you ? "
The affable merchant was trying to recall his cus-
tomer's name.
" Not now, not now, thankee. If you please to let
my bundle stay untell I come back "
" Can't I show you something ? Hat, coat "
" Not now. Be back bimeby."
Was it chance or fate that brought Elder Brown in
front of a bar ? The glasses shone bright upon the
ELDER BROWN'S BACKSLIDE. 49
shelves as the swinging door flapped back to let out a
coatless clerk, who passed him with a rush, chewing
upon a farewell mouthful of brown-bread and bo-
logna. Elder Brown beheld for an instant the famil-
iar scene within. The screws of his resolution had
been loosened. At sight of the glistening bar the
whole moral structure of twenty years came tumbling
down. Mechanically he entered the saloon, and laid
a silver quarter down as he said :
" A little whisky an' sugar.'' The arms of the bar-
tender worked like a fakir's in a side-show as he set
out the glass with its little quota of " short sweeten-
ing" and a cut-glass decanter, and sent a half -tum-
bler of water spinning along from the upper end of
the bar with a dime in change.
" Whisky is higher 'n it used to be," said Elder
Brown ; but the bartender was taking another order,
and did not hear him. Elder Brown stii-red away the
sugar, and let a steady stream of red liquid flow into
the glass. He swallowed the drink as unconcernedly
as though his morning tod had never been suspended,
and pocketed the change. " But it ain't any better
than it was," he concluded, as he passed out. He did
not even seem to realize that he had done anything
extraordinary.
There was a millinery store .up the street, and
thither with uncertain step he wended his way, feel-
ing a little more elate, and altogether sociable. A
50 ELDER BROWN'S BACKSLIDE.
pretty, black-eyed girl, struggling to keep down her
mirtli, came forward and faced Mm behind the
counter. Elder Brown lifted his faded hat with the
politeness, if not the grace, of a Castilian, and made
a sweeping bow. Again he was in his element. But
he did not speak. A shower of odds and ends, small
packages, thread, needles, and buttons, released from
their prison, rattled down about him.
The girl laughed. She could not help it. And the
elder, leaning his hand on the counter, laughed too,
until several other girls came half-way to the front.
Then they, hiding behind counters and suspended
cloaks, laughed and snickered until they re-convulsed
the elder's vis-d-vis, who had been making desperate
efforts to resume her demure appearance.
^' Let me help you, sir,'^ she said, coming from be-
hind the counter, upon seeing Elder Brown beginning
to adjust his spectacles for a search. He waved her
back majestically. "No, my dear, no; can't allow it.
You mout sile them purty fingers. No, ma'am. No
gen'l'man '11 'low er lady to do such a thing." The
elder was gently forcing the girl back to her place.
'^ Leave it to me. I 've picked up bigger things 'n
them. Picked myself up this mornin'. Balaam —
you don't know Balaam ; he 's my donkey— he tum-
bled me over his head in the sand this mornin'." And
Elder Brown had to resume an upright position until
his paroxysm of laughter had passed. " You see this
ELDER BROWN'S BACKSLIDE. 51
old hat ? ^' extending it, half full of packages ; ^^ I fell
clear inter it; jes' as clean inter it as them things
thar fell ont'n it." He laughed again, and so did the
girls. ^^ But, my dear, I whaled half the hide off'n
him for it."
^^ Oh, sir ! how could you ? Indeed, sir, I think you
did wrong. The poor brute did not know what he
was doing, I dare say, and probably he has been a
faithful friend." The girl cast her mischievous eyes
toward her companions, who snickered again. The
old man was not conscious of the sarcasm. He only
saw reproach. His face straightened, and he re-
garded the girl soberly.
" Mebbe you ^re right, my dear ; mebbe I ought n't."
" I am sure of it," said the girl. " But now don't
you want to buy a bonnet or a cloak to carry home
to your wife 1 "
'^ Well, you 're whistlin' now, birdie ; that 's my
intention; set 'em all out." Again the elder's face
shone with delight. ''An' I don't want no one-hoss
bonnet neither."
'' Of course not. Now here is one ; pink silk, with
delicate pale blue feathers. Just the thing for the
season. "We have nothing more elegant in stock."
Elder Brown held it out, upside down, at arm's
length.
"Well, now, that 's suthin' like. Will it soot a
sorter red-headed 'ooman ? "
52 ELDER BBOWN'S BACKSLIDE.
A perfectly sober man would have said the girl's
corsets must have undergone a terrible strain, but
the elder did not notice her dumb convulsion. She
answered heroically:
" Perfectly, sir. It is an exquisite match."
^^ I think you 're whistlin' again. Nancy's head 's
red, red as a woodpeck's. Sorrel 's only half-way to
the color of her top-knot, an' it do seem like red
oughter soot red. Nancy 's red an' the hat 's red ;
like goes with like, an' birds of a feather flock to-
gether." The old man laughed until his cheeks were
wet.
The girl, beginning to feel a little uneasy, and see-
ing a customer entering, rapidly fixed up the bonnet,
took fifteen dollars out of a twenty-dollar bill, and
calmly asked the elder if he wanted anything else.
He thrust his change somewhere into his clothes, and
beat a retreat. It had occurred to him that he was
nearly drunk.
Elder Brown's step began to lose its buoyancy. He
found himself utterly unable to walk straight. There
was an uncertain straddle in his gait that carried him
from one side of the walk to the other, and caused
people whom he met to cheerfully j^deld him plenty of
room.
Balaam saw him coming. Poor Balaam. He had
made an early start that day, and for hours he stood
in the sun awaiting relief. When he opened his
sleepy eyes and raised his expressive ears to a position
ELDER BROWN'S BACKSLIDE. 53
of attention, the old familiar coat and battered hat of
the elder were before him. He lifted up his honest
voice and cried aloud for joy.
The effect was electrical. For one instant Elder
Brown sui-veyed the beast with horror, but again in
his understanding there rang out the trumpet words,
* " Drunk, drunk, drunk, drer-unc, -er-unc, -unc, -unc."
He stooped instinctively for a missile with which to
smite his accuser, but brought up suddenly with a
jerk and a handful of sand. Straightening himself
up with a majestic dignity, he extended his right hand
impressively.
'^ You ^re a goldarn liar, Balaam, and, blast your
old buttons, you kin walk home by yourself, for I ^m
danged if you sh'll ride me er step."
Surely Coriolanus never turned his back upon
Rome with a grander dignity than sat upon the old
man's form as he faced about and left the brute to
survey with anxious eyes the new departure of his
master.
He saw the elder zigzag along the street, and be-
held him about to turn a friendly corner. Once more
he lifted up his mighty voice.
" Drunk, drunk, drunk, drer-unc, drer-unc, -er-unc,
-unc, -unc."
Once more the elder turned with lifted hand, and
shouted back :
" You ^re a liar, Balaam, goldarn you ! You 're er
iffamous liar." Then he passed from view.
III.
Mrs. Brown stood upon the steps anxiously await-
ing the return of her liege lord. She knew he had
with him a large sum of money, or should have, and
she knew also that he was a man without business
methods. She had long since repented of the decision
which sent him to town. When the old battered hat
and flour-covered coat loomed up in the gloaming and
confronted her, she started with terror. The next in-
stant she had seized him.
'^ For the Lord sakes, Elder Brown, what ails you ?
As I live, if the man ain't drunk ! Elder Brown !
Elder Brown ! for the life of me can't I make you
hear ? You crazy old hypocrite ! you desavin' old
sinner ! you black-hearted wretch ! where have you
be'n?"
The elder made an effort to wave her off.
" Woman,'' he said, with grand dignity, " you for-
git yussef ; shu know ware I 've be'n 's well 's I do.
Be'n to town, wife, an' see yer w'at I 've brought —
the fines' hat, ole woman, I could git. Look 't the
color. Like goes 'ith like ; it 's red an' you 're red,
54
ELDER BROWN'S BACKSLIDE. 55
an' it 's a dead match. What yer mean ? Hey ! hole
on, ole woman ! — yon ! Hannah ! — you." She lit-
erally shook him into silence.
^^ You miserable wi-etch ! you low-down drunken
sot ! what do you mean by coming home and insult-
ing your wife ? " Hannah ceased shaking him from
pure exhaustion.
" Where is it, I say ? where is it ? "
By this time she was turning his pockets wrong
side out. From one she got pills, from another
change, from another packages.
'^ The Lord be praised, and this is better luck than
I hoped ! Oh, elder ! elder ! elder ! what did you do
it for ? Why, man, where is Balaam ? "
Thought of the beast choked off the threatened
hysterics.
^^ Balaam? Balaam?'' said the elder, groggily.
'' He 's in town. The infernal ole fool 'suited me, an'
I lef him to walk home."
His wife surveyed him. Really at that moment she
did think his mind was gone 5 but the leer upon the
old man's face enraged her beyond endurance.
'^ You did, did you ? Well, now, I reckon you '11
laugh for some cause, you will. Back you go, sir —
straight back; an' don't you come home 'thout that
donkey, or you '11 rue it, sure as my name is Hannah
Brown. Aleck ! — you Aleck-k-k ! "
A black boy darted round the comer, from behind
56 ELDER BROWN'S BACKSLIDE.
whicli, with several others, he had beheld the brief but
stirring scene.
^' Put a saddle on er mule. The elder 's gwine back
to town. And don't you be long about it nuther."
^'Yessum." Aleck's ivories gleamed in the dark-
ness as he disappeared.
Elder Brown was soberer at that moment than he
had been for hours.
" Hannah, you don't mean it ? "
^' Yes, sir ; I do. Back you go to town as sure as
my name is Hannah Brown."
The elder was silent. He had never known his wife
to relent on any occasion after she had affirmed her
intention, supplemented with ^' as sure as my name is
Hannah Brown." It was her way of swearing. No
affidavit would have had half the claim upon her as
that simple enunciation.
So back to town went Elder Brown, not in the
order of the early morn, but silently, moodily, de-
spairingly, surrounded by mental and actual gloom.
The old man had turned a last appealing glance
upon the angry woman, as he mounted with Aleck's
assistance, and sat in the light that streamed from
out the kitchen window. She met the glance without
a waver.
^' She means it, as sure as my name is Elder Brown,"
he said thickly. Then he rode on.
IV.
To SAY that Elder Brown suffered on this long
journey back to Macon would only mildly outline his
experience. His early morning^s fall had begun to
make itself felt. He was sore and uncomfortable.
Besides, his stomach was empty, and called for two
meals it had missed for the first time in years.
When, sore and weary, the elder entered the city,
the electric lights shone above it like jewels in a crown.
The city slept ; that is, the better portion of it did.
Here and there, however, the lower lights flashed out
into the night. Moodily the elder pursued his jour-
ney, and as he rode, far off in the night there rose and
quivered a plaintive cry. Elder Brown smiled wearily ;
it was Balaam's appeal, and he recognized it. The
animal he rode also recognized it, and replied, until
the silence of the city was destroyed. The odd clamor
and confusion drew from a saloon near by a group of
noisy youngsters, who had been making a night of it.
They surrounded Elder Brown as he began to trans-
fer himseK to the hungry beast to whose motion he
was more accustomed, and in the " hail fellow well
met" style of the day began to bandy jests upon his
appearance. Now Elder Brown was not in a jesting
5 67
58 ELDER BROWN'S BACKSLIDE.
humor. Positively he was in the worst humor possi-
ble. The result was that before many minutes passed
the old man was swinging several of the crowd by
their collars, and breaking the peace of the city. A
policeman approached, and but for the good-humored
party, upon whom the elder's pluck had made a favor-
able impression, would have run the old man into the
barracks. The crowd, however, drew him laughingly
into the saloon and to the bar. The reaction was too
much for his half -rallied senses. He yielded again.
The reviving liquor passed his lips. Gloom vanished.
He became one of the boys.
The company into which Elder Brown had fallen
was what is known as " first-class." To such nothing
is so captivating as an adventure out of the common
run of accidents. The gaunt countryman, with his
battered hat and claw-hammer coat, was a prize of an
extraordinary nature. They drew him into a rear
room, whose gilded frames and polished tables be-
trayed the character and purpose of the place, and
plied him with wine until ten thousand lights danced
about him. The fun increased. One youngster made
a political speech from the top of the table j another
impersonated Hamlet ; and finally Elder Brown was
lifted into a chair, and sang a camp-meeting song.
This was rendered by him with startling effect. He
stood upright, with his hat jauntily knocked to one
side, and his coat-tails ornamented with a couple of
ELDER BROWN'S BACKSLIDE. 59
show-bills, kindly pinned on by his admirers. In his
left hand he waved the stub of a cigar, and on his
back was an admirable representation of Balaam's
head, executed by some artist with billiard chalk.
As the elder sang his favorite hymn, " I 'm glad
salvation 's free," his stentorian voice awoke the
echoes. Most of the company rolled upon the floor
in convulsions of laughter.
The exhibition came to a close by the chair over-
turning. Again Elder Brown fell into his beloved
hat. He arose and shouted : " Whoa, Balaam ! "
Again he seized the nearest weapon, and sought satis-
faction. The young gentleman with political senti-
ments was knocked under the table, and Hamlet only
escaped injury by beating the infuriated elder into
the street.
What next? Well, I hardly know. How the elder
found Balaam is a mystery yet : not that Balaam was
hard to find, but that the old man was in no condition
to find anything. Still he did, and climbing labori-
ously into the saddle, he held on stupidly while the
hungry beast struck out for home.
V.
Hannah Brown did not sleep that night. Sleep
would not come. Hour after hour passed, and her
wrath refused to be quelled. She tried every con-
ceivable method, but time hung heavily. It was not
quite peep of day, however, when she laid her well-
worn family Bible aside. It had been her mother's,
and, amid all the anxieties and tribulations incident
to the life of a woman who had free negroes and a
miserable husband to manage, it had been her main-
stay and comfort. She had frequently read it in
anger, page after page, without knowing what was
contained in the lines. But eventually the words be-
came intelligible and took meaning. She wrested
consolation from it by mere force of will.
And so on this occasion when she closed the book
the fierce anger was gone.
She was not a hard woman naturally. Fate had
brought her conditions which covered up the woman
heart within her, but, though it lay deep, it was there
still. As she sat with folded hands her eyes fell
upon — what ?
ELBEB BROWN'S BACKSLIDE, 61
The pink bonnet with the blue plume !
It may appear strange to those who do not under-
stand such natures, but to me her next action was
perfectly natural. She burst into a convulsive laugh ;
then seizing the queer object, bent her face upon it
and sobbed hysterically. When the storm was over,
very tenderly she laid the gift aside, and bare-headed
passed out into the night.
For a half -hour she stood at the end of the lane, and
then hungry Balaam and his master hove in sight.
Reaching out her hand, she checked the beast.
" William," said she, very gently, ^' where is the
mule?"
The elder had been asleep. He woke and gazed
upon her blankly.
'' What mule, Hannah ? "
" The mule you rode to town.^'
For one full minute the elder studied her face.
Then it burst from his lips :
" Well, bless me ! if I did n't bring Balaam and f or-
git the mule ! "
The woman laughed till her eyes ran water.
^' William," said she, ^' you 're drunk."
^^ Hannah," said he, meekly, ^^ I know it. The truth
is, Hannah, I "
"Never mind now, William," she said, gently.
"You are tired and hungry. Come into the house,
husband."
62 ELDER BROWN'S BACKSLIDE.
Leading Balaam, she disappeared down the lane ;
and when, a few minutes later, Hannah Brown and
her husband entered through the light that streamed
out of the open door, her arms were around him and
her face uptui'ned to his.
AN IDYL OF "SINKIN' MOUNTIN."
"\ZEKIEL OBADIAH SYKES leaned
J over the tumble-down split-picket
ii^in fence that had once kept the pigs
' ^ ' and chickens from his mother^s hum-
ble flower-garden, and gazed fixedly
at the mountain before him. His was not a striking
figure, being lank and somewhat round-shouldered.
It was not even picturesque. A pair of worn jean
trousers covered his lower limbs, and were held in
place by knit " gaUuses," which crossed the back of his
cotton shirt exactly in the middle and disappeared
over his shoulders in well-defined grooves. A stained
and battered wool hat hung like a bell over his head,
which rested by his chin upon a red, rough hand.
The face was half covered by a reddish brown beard,
the first of his budding manhood. The sun had just
sunk beyond the mountain, and the great shadow
that crept across the single field of starving corn and
the tobacco patch deepened into twilight, and still the
64 AN IDYL OF ''SINKIN' MOUNTAIN."
young man rested on the picket-fence. Occasionally
he would eject into the half -defined road, which came
around one side of the mountain and disappeared
around the other, a stream of tobacco- juice, and pen-
sively watch it as it lined the gravel and vanished into
the soil with something like a human gasp. Once he
lifted a bare foot, and with a prolonged effort scratched
with its horny toes the calf of the supporting leg.
But by no motion did he dissipate the air of listless-
ness and despondency that hung about him.
Fortune had not smiled upon the Sykes family for
many moons. There were no pigs to disturb the
flower-garden overrun with prince's-feathers, bache-
lor's-buttons, four-o'clocks, old-maids, and sunflowers,
and the dismounted gate leaned restfully against the
post on which it had once hung. Somehow every-
thing in the neighborhood of the Sykes cottage
seemed inclined to lean towards something else. The
cow was long gone, and the tiny little boarded shed,
which straddled the sparkling spring-branch near at
hand and served once as a dairy, was lurching to-
wards the hillside. Near the staggering fence was a
bench that had settled back against it, thrusting its
legs weU to the front, and there once nestled a score
of bee-hives ; but none remained, and only the great
yeUow and maroon butterflies that floated down the
valley, and the bumblebees, reveled in the honey-
flowers. Perhaps the influence of these facts weighed
AN IDYL OF ''SIXKIN' AIOUXriN." 65
upon the young man^s mind, and cast a shadow darker
than the mountain's. Certainly, as he leaned silently
over the picket, he was in harmony with the sur-
roundings.
A girl came out into the twilight of the little porch,
where vines were clambering pell-mell up a rough
trellis of peeled rods, and carefully poured water from
a gourd into a dozen tiny pots along the edge. The
pots consisted of gourds and of tin cans that had been
brought home by Ezekiel from the refuse of the great
hotels at The Falls, ten miles or more away. But
they answered her purposes well, only they presented
a somewhat incongruous appearance ; for on several
from which bloomed lovely geraniums — cuttings se-
cured by Ezekiel from character- studying ladies at
the same hotels — flamed great red tomatoes, and
where little sprigs of coleus beamed in the shadow
shone also phenomenal asparagus and the violent-hued
lobster. The dress of the girl was a well-worn but
neat-checked homespun, and at the throat was a bit of
faded ribbon.
" D'rindy, yuh seen Ezekiel ? '^ An elderly woman
in homespun, of the same design as the girPs, stood in
the doorway that led from the kitchen upon the porch,
holding a coffee-pot in hand.
"No, ma'am. Zeke! Oh-h-h-h, Zeke!" The girl
lifted her head and sung out the name until the moun-
tain and the valley gave it back again and again.
66 ^^ IDYL OF ''SINKIN' MOUNTAIN.''
"What yuh warnt, D'rindy?'' The voice came
from so close at hand in the gathering shadows as to
startle her.
" Well, I d^clar^ ter goodness^ sakes, Ezekiel, what
yuh doin^ out thar ? "
" Nuth'n\'' The reply was low and careless.
" Come in an' git yuh vittuls.''
" Don't warnt nuth'n', Ma. Yuh-aU eat."
The woman looked out at the lone figure for a
moment, then went in ; and presently the girl thought-
fully followed. At the table, upon which was a pone
of corn-bread, a pot of weak coffee, and a handless
pitcher of molasses, the elder said :
" I 'm 'f eered Ezekiel ar' ailin'. Las' night he would
n' tech vittuls, an' hit ain't no better ter-night."
"Suthin' 's pesterin' 'im," Dorinda said simply j
" er-pesterin' es mine." An old man sat next to her
and shook his head.
" All Hers, all liers ! " he muttered. He was evi-
dently very deaf, and there was not a hair on his head,
which was sunken between his shoulders. "Thar
warn't nair' stUL ! " The women paid no attention to
his mutterings, and presently, finishing his sop, he
wiped his fingers upon his hips and shufled into the
corner of the fireplace, where he mumbled to himself
awhile and then fell asleep.
" Yes, suthin' 's pesterin' 'im," said the old woman
after a pause. " Ezekiel ain't like esse'f ." The girl
AN IDYL OF ''SINKIN' MOUNTAIN." 67
rested her elbows on the table and watched her com-
panion absently. Presently she said abruptly :
" Ann' Betsey, yuh reck'n Zeke hain't still er-f rettin^
'bout Sal Boler gittin' j'ined ter ^er feller ? ''
" Maybe so ; but I reck'n hard times got more ter do
'ith it. Ezekiel don't see no chance ahead now.'' She
sighed, but added,, as if to counteract its effect, " Not
that I 'm distrustin'. Th' Lord '11 pervide : he alius
pervides fur them as leans on 'im." Dorinda looked
wistfully up into the face of her aging companion and
was silent. Presently she rose and washed the few
dishes, placing them upon their shelf. A few deft
touches restored the room to its usual scrupulously
neat condition. Returning the coffee-pot to the hearth
again and the remaining bread to the spider for
^' Zeke," as she had always called him, in defiance of his
mother's example, she went quietly to her little shed-
room at the end of the porch and sat down to think.
She was Dorinda Maddox, not Sykes, the daughter of
a poor woman down the valley who died in the arms
of Mrs. Sykes, five years before, leaving nothing she
might call her own but this one lonely child. Her
father and her brother had been killed in a fight with
revenue officers, and the hairless, driveling old man
within the kitchen had suffered two years of imprison-
ment ; for the blood shed had not all been on one side.
She had come into this household to share its increas-
ing burdens and diminishing income, but not to eat
68 ^N IDYL OF "SINKIN' MOUNTAIN.''
the bread of idleness. Never had motlier a tenderer
daughter; never an orphan a better mother. Zeke
had been her one playmate and protector^ and the lit-
tle room, built when she grew older, was the result of
his rough carpentry.
^' I wunner ef he es er-frettin' 'bout Sal Boler gittin'
joined ? " she asked herseK. The romance was familiar
to her in all its parts from the day when Ezekiel was
smitten until faithless Sal wedded a stranger from
beyond the mountain, and he sunk back into despair
and silence. She stood up before a little fragment of
glass and looked at herself. It was a tiny room
indeed, but marvelous in its appointments. The
bare boards were frescoed with autumn leaves, their
tints making a glory in the half -lit place. Clusters
of chestnut-burrs garnished with them hung around,
and here and there, in scraped cow-horns thrust into
crevices, were tucked great bunches of ferns and
scarlet berries and goldenrod. A half-dozen cheap
prints cut from periodicals picked up at The Falls
filled the waste places, and festoons of bead-corn
linked them together. But just above her glass was
a cheap photograph of Zeke, taken years before in
the mountains by a straggling photographer whom
he had guided, representing him, as he had seen the
romantic tourists, posing in the shadow of a rock, his
hat in one hand, and the other, for want of a coat,
Dorinda.
AN IDYL OF "SIXEIN' MOUNT IN." 69
thrust into his half-open shirt-front — a barefooted
mountain boy whose honest eyes looked straight into
hers. This had been, from the day Ezekiel brought
it home, the treasure of her girlhood. The frame
about it was like none other in the world. It was
of mica, made of sheets larger than any man's
hand, and upon their surface with a needle she had
traced ferns, butterflies, flowers, and leaves, rubbing
soot into the lines to make the figures stand forth.
This was her gem ; and once a traveling artist who
gazed upon it said that it was wonderfully true to
nature, and offered to buy it. He might as well have
bartered for her eyes. The little room held only her
couch, a rude chest, a splint rocker, and a stool, — all
Zeke's work, — a brown stone bowl, and a great jug-
shaped gourd which served her for a pitcher.
As the girl stood in brown reverie before the frag-
ment of glass she heard a horse approaching at a fox-
trot, and presently a voice exclaim :
" Well, Ezekyel, how es time er-sarvin' you an'
yourn ? " She recognized the drawl of an old ^^ hard-
shell " preacher who at long intervals came to hold
forth in the neighborhood. Then EzekiePs voice :
"Po'ly, Parson. Light?"
" No ; I 'm goin' ter lie at Sis' Toomer^s ter-night.
"Will see yuh out ter Zebberlon come er-Sunday.
Th' road hain't ther bes' an' hit 's er-gittin' dark —
70 ^N IDYL OF ''SINKIN' MOUNTAIN."
wlioa! Oh, Ezekyel/' — she heard the horse, which
had started, checked again, — ^^seen Sal Boler 'cross
the line las' month. Th' critter she war er-j'ined ter
es dead." The girl in her little room clasped her
hands and sunk back on the couch. She could but
hear what followed.
^^Yuh don't say!"
" Be'n dead f o' months come er-Friday. She ain't
furgot you, Ezekyel." Here the speaker chuckled.
" She do say that ef her life was ter come roun' ter
be lived ergin, she 'd be Mistis Ezekyel Sykes down
in Raccoon Holler."
^' Did Sal say hit fur er fac'. Parson ? " His voice
was low.
'^ She said hit fur er fac' ; an' Sal hain't er-need'n'
no man ter git vittuls fur her. The Lord he has
blessed her more 'n many er prayin' ooman an' the
mother er chillum, er rer, blessed be his holy name,
er rer ! An' I say it er-wonderin', not er-findin' fault.
Yes, Sal 's got Ian' an' stock ; no eend er stock."
The girl heard his horse's footfalls echo out in the
distance. She waited long. Then Ezekiel entered
the kitchen, and she followed quietly and placed
his bread upon the table. He passed into the only
remaining room without noticing her.
" Ma," she heard him say quietly, as was his way,
" git me up 'bout light. I 'm goin' ter th' yan side er
AN IDYL OF "SINEIN' MOUNTING 71
th' mountain ter-morrer, an' maybe I won't git back
afo' Sunday."
Dorinda turned and went out as silently as she
came. In her room she threw herself face down
upon the log-cabin quilt of her couch and sobbed
herself asleep.
II.
"When Ezekiel Sykes arose next morning respon-
sive to his mother's call, daylight was glimmering
faintly on the mountain. He took from its pegs his
red jean suit, the same that Sal Boler had so often
seen him in, now a little worse for wear, and donned
it, putting on his one other cotton shirt. Then he
slicked his hair with marrow-fat from a horn, and
throwing his boots, weU greased, across his shoulder,
rolled up his trousers. Prepared for his journey, he
proceeded to the kitchen and possessed himself of a
cup of cold coffee and the bread put aside for him.
As he was passing out his mother came to the door.
" Fur ther Lor' sakes, Ezekiel, whar be yuh goin'
ter, boyr'
"Ter the yan side o''^ the mount'in, Ma," he said
quietly. Then he called to her from the outside : " I
reck'n yer hain't ter see me afo' Sunday."
'^WeU, that beats my times," she said, gazing
blankly at the open door. Presently she began to
dress. '^ Sunday-meetin' clothes on, an' hit er Chues-
day ! Hit 's onpossible thet Ezekiel is settin' up ter er
gal over thar " She paused with her dress half
over her head. " No, hit 's onpossible ; one er Ezekiel's
72
,,.,^ ,'f?fiS^, ]>;,!,!.
"Zeke, less see how yer look.
AN IDYL OF ''SINEJN' MOUNTAIN." 73
queer notions. The boy war never jes' like yuther
boys. Ter tliink," she said, laughing softly, ^Her
think of folks callin' Jmn ' Doctor^ — ^Doctor ZekeM
But hit 's er fac' thet he do fech sum folks 'round
estonishinly, an' thet 's erbout all any yuther doctor
c'n say."
When Ezekiel Sykes took the road at early dawn
he went northward; and as he strolled along he
whistled softly. A great change had come over him.
He carried himself erect, as in olden times, and smiled
responsive to his thoughts. If Dorinda could have
seen him then she would have said, " Hit 's Zeke come
ter his own se'f ergin." The perfidy of Sal Boler had
been a crushing blow a year before ; he had suffered,
and his pride had been altogether annihilated. From
a self -laudatory young man he had sunk into a morose
and thoughtfully distrustful one. If he had had the
power of expression he might have become a cynic in
words, as he was in fact. He had borne up pretty
well under the waning fortunes of the Sykes family
and the disasters which befeU them all through the
father; but Sal's conduct finished him at one fell
blow.
" ' Ef her life war ter come roun' ter be lived ergin,
she 'd be Mistis Ezekyel Sykes down een Raccoon
Holler,' " he said aloud ; and then he laughed. It had
been many a day since he had laughed like that, and
he realized the change. " Zeke, less see how yuh look,"
74 ^^ IDYL OF "SINKIN' MOUNT 'IN."
he added jubilantly. He took a small bit of glass
from his coat-pocket, thrust it behind the scale of a
pine-tree's bark, and solemnly surveyed his counte-
nance.
'^ Hit 's Zeke/' he admitted, winking and twisting
his head. ''Zeke, Ezekiel Obadiah Sykes — Dr. Zeke.
An' I reck'n she done a long sight worser 'n looks
when she j'ined unto that Calliny feller, ef she did n't
in Ian' an' stock." He took off his hat and bowed to
Ezekiel in the glass, and smiled at Ezekiel in the
glass, and rolled his tongue at Ezekiel in the glass.
" Ezekiel," said he finally, ^' ding yuh ole skin, ef I
wuz ter meet yer on ther road I 'd say, ' Ther goes er
feller fit ter run er gal crazy.' I would, fer er fac'.
Yer ar' er bad un." He winked with both eyes vio-
lently. " No eend to Ian' an' stock ! "
With a loud guffaw he returned the reflector to his
pocket, and whistling and singing by turns resumed
his journey. The change that had come over him was
marvelous.
Ezekiel had covered about fifteen miles, and was
upon a better road when he was overtaken by a spank-
ing team, driven by a good-natured, easy-going young
man, who hailed him pleasantly.
"Ride, stranger?"
" In course," said Zeke ; " an' glad ter get hit. How
fur yuh travelin' ? "
" Up about Red Creek."
AN IDYL OF ''SINKIN' MOUNTAIN." 75
" Well, now, thet 's what I calls luck/' said Zeke, as
he settled down on the proffered seat. "■ So 'm I."
The young man smiled at the speaker's general ap-
pearance and manner. His own shoes were on and
blacked, and there was a well-bred business look about
him that Ezekiel noticed.
" Be yuh er-stayin' thar ? "
" Yes," said the stranger, looking at him keenly but
slyly. " Where do you hail from ? ''
'^Raccoon Holler.''
" Farming ? "
" Some, an' er-docterin' some."
" So ! You are a doctor, then. Allopathic or homeo-
pathic?"
Ezekiel reflected. " Mostly yarbs," he said.
His companion smiled again. "I see; one of na-
ture's doctors. Best sort, after all."
Under this flattering admission Ezekiel expanded
at once.
"Think so?"
" I do, indeed."
Ezekiel stretched out his hand. "Glad ter know
yuh. What mout be your name ? "
" Tom Summers."
" Dr. Ezekiel Obadiah Sykes," he said gravely.
" Glad to know you, Doc. It is lonesome up here ;
glad to have your company."
"'T is kinder lonesome," admitted Ezekiel. Then,
76 ^^ IDYL OF ''SINEIN' MOUNT 'IN."
after a pause : " But, stranger, you kinder fetched me
erwhile back when yuh war er-talkin' 'bout natur' and
er-docterin' 'cordin' ter natur'."
^^ndeed!''
" Thet 's my way. I hain't be'n ter school, an' what
I got war picked up hyah 'n' thar f'om one 'n' ernuther.
Folks got ter callin' me ^ Dr. Zeke,' an' so hit goes j an'
Dr. Zeke hit ar' till now 5 an' some er um ^u'd tell yuh
thet Dr. Zeke knowed er thing er two, maybe, ef yer
asked um."
" I have no doubt of it."
" Hit war the funniest thing th' way hit come er-
bout — my er-gittin to be er natures docter. I war
er-workin' 'roun' on the mount'in er-huntin' fur arrer-
root, an' I hearn a voice, as plain as I ar' hyarin' them
horses' foots, er-sayin' : ^ Dr. Zeke, give natur' what
natur' calls fur,' and I went right ter stud'in', day in
an' day out, what hit meant. But one day Mistis
Toomer, 'roun' th' mount'in, she come ter me an' says,
says she, ^ Dr. Zeke, the baby ar' mortuP sick, an' ar'
continnerwally er-cryin' fur raw 'taters an' fried
greens.'"
^^ And you gave them to her ? "
" Quicker ner Hghtnin' hit come ter me what war
meant 'bout natur' callin', an' I says, says I : ^ Mahaly
Toomer, ef the baby ar' mortul' sick an' ar' er-con-
tinnerwally cryin' fur raw 'taters an' fried greens,
give her raw 'taters an' fried greens '5 an' with thet
AN IDYL OF "SIXKIN' MOUNT IN." ^7
I warks off an' leaves 'er stan'in' in tli' road like one
seized uv er sperrit. Mahaly told our folks nex' day
thet she laid out thet Dr. Zeke bed done gone plum
crazy, but bimeby, er-knowin' my ways, she up an^
give the chile hits ^taters an' fried greens."
'^ Death was instantaneous, I suppose ? "
'^ Death ! Why, ther chile ar^ ter-day ther out-
strappinest boy in Rabun County."
The stranger laughed.
" Well, that was wonderful, indeed. But, Doctor,
seriously, what would you do if nature should call
for something out of season?"
Dr. Zeke pursed up his lips, and, looking out across
the mountains, scratched his chin.
^' Natur'," he said presently, " hain't goin' ter call
fur thet which natur' hain't got — thet is, gineraUy.
But hit do sometimes so happen thet way."
" Then comes practice by substitute." The stran-
ger passed the reins while he went down into a
leather case for cigars.
"No," said the doctor; "hit won't work thet er
way. Now thar war Sis' Debory Jinkins, which
word come es how she war seized with er Ion gin' fur
watermillion, when watermillions war long gone ;
an' I, knowin' thet gourds war somewhat arter th'
make er th' watermillion, — sorter half kin on one
side, anyhow, — had um fetch er green gourd, an'
we put hit down Sis' Debory's throat, her ma er-
78 ^N IDYL OF ''SINKIN' MOUNTAIN:'
holdin^ her, fur she did kick pow^ful, bein^ natur'ly
of a contrerry natur^ an' havin' no longin' fur thet
eend of the watermillion family. We put it down
her throat "
^^ I suppose it satisfied her longing for watermelon."
" Yes, hit satisfied her longin' fur most ev'ything
fur erwhile j leastways, she never said nothin' more
erbout watermillions j but Sis' Debory come nigh
unter death with cohc afo' mornin', an' sense thet
time I hain't hed faith in substytoots. Ef natur'
calls fur what natur' hain't got, I argy thet hit ain't
Dr. Zeke thet 's ter blame j an' I ginerally waits ontel
natur' calls fur suthin' ter hand."
Something like five miles had been covered during
the exposition of the Sykes theory of medical prac-
tice, when Ezekiel suddenly changed the subject.
" Stranger, yuh ever hyar er th' Widder Martin —
Sallie Boler thet war, up een Red Crick settlement % "
he asked.
^^Yes, indeed. Nice woman she is, too." The
stranger spoke without hesitation. Ezekiel was silent
for a full minute ; then, unable to contain the secret
any longer, he continued :
'' Well, hit 's 'bleeged ter come out. I 'm er-courtin'
th' same."
^^ Indeed? Bully boy, and good luck to you ! Is
she pretty well fixed?"
"Fixed?"
AN IDYL OF "SINKIN' MOUNTAIN." 79
" Got any land — money ? "
" Er whole county, an' no eend er stock."
" Go in, old fellow, and win ! " said his companion
impressively. '^ And you are really courting her ? "
^^ Thet ^s what er said. Ever meet her, stransrer ? "
'^ Oh, yes. The widow and I are good friends."
"Yuh don't say!''
^^We are, indeed."
^' Then, stranger, yuh stop erlong 'ith us ter-night.
She '11 be pow'f ul glad ter see 'er ole friend, an' any-
body thet Ezekiel Sykes brings '11 be welcome ter
the bes'."
For a full hour and a half Ezekiel held forth upon
the subject that was consuming him, but when at
length they reached a little branch he called ^^ Whoa ! "
and the willing horses came to a halt.
" Stranger," said he, ^' will you hole up er minute
tell I spruce er bit ? "
'^ "Why, certainly."
Ezekiel alighted from the buggy, and, washing his
feet in the stream, wiped them upon the grass and
drew on his boots. After this he stuck the little
glass in a tree again, put on his coat, and producing
a faded red cravat proceeded to tie it about his neck.
Then he combed his well-oiled locks with his fingers.
" Thet '11 do fur th' widder," he said as he climbed
back into the buggy.
The two journeyed along pleasantly until the sum-
80 ^y i^yL OF "siNKiN' mountain:'
mit of the ridge was reached and the opposite valley-
lay spread before them. Here the stranger, after a
few minutes' reflection, said, his eyes twinkling :
" Dr. Sykes, perhaps I ought to have mentioned it
before, but the fact is I married Widow Martin my-
self two weeks ago."
Ezekiel looked at him blankly for a full minute,
then reached out and caught the lines, and with a
slow steady pull brought the horses to a standstill.
The stranger's face was as calm and impassive as
a June sky.
" Yuh don' say ! " he exclaimed in a hoarse whisper.
^' Fact. But don't turn back on that account. Any
friend of mine will be welcome at Sal's. Besides, she
wants to see you, for I have heard her say so."
Ezekiel still surveyed him piteously. Then he
slowly reached down and drew off first one and then
the other boot. His cravat was returned to his
pocket. Springing to the ground, he caught the line
nearest him.
" Stranger," he said, " Widder Martin's new hus-
bun 's er-goin' ter get whupped ! Oh, yuh need n'
laugh ! "
^' Sykes," said his late companion, wiping the tears
from his eyes and still shaking, '•'■ let go that line."
^^ I 'm th' bes' man in Rabun County," said Ezekiel,
dancing in the road. " Come down, come down ! "
" You 're the biggest fool ! "
AN IDYL OF ''SINKIX' MOUNTAIN." 81
Ezekiel was fairly boiling with rage.
" Light, light ! '^ he yelled. Then as the stranger
made no motion to comply, Ezekiel began to kick the
nearest horse in the stomach with all his might, and
that animal responded by rearing and plunging vio-
lently. The stranger " lit." Unfortunately for Ezek-
iel, he was caught in the act of pulling off his coat.
He was a doomed man from the outset. For about
three minutes there was an animated spectacle in the
road, and then Ezekiel fled from the spot, as was per-
fectly proper, since he could have accomplished noth-
ing desirable by remaining, and the stranger was at
white heat. Kicking the horse had upset his temper
completely.
" Confound the fellow ! " he said ; ^' I 've a great
mind to carry off his boots and coat."
But he did not, and nature's physician regained
them when the coasts were cleared, and, bleeding and
dazed, took the back track. At the little branch he
stuck his glass in the tree again and began an exam-
ination of himself. One eye was nearly closed, his
lip was cut, and his nose was swollen. Minor injur-
ies helped to make him the unhappiest of mortals.
Long time he studied himself in silence. Presently
he said, a great tear oozing from the blackened eye :
" Ef 'e had n' er got een that ar fust sub-binder
imner thet ear, afo' I got out'n th' coat, Widder Mar-
tin's new husbun 'u'd er be'n in er worser fix 'n thet."
82 ^V IDYL OF "SIXEIN' MOUNTAIN."
He checked the tears and examined himself critically.
Finally he said more calmly : " Hit war done com-
plete an^ no mistake."
As he slowly and painfully resumed his journey
homeward he added : ^' ^ Ef her life war ter come round
ter be lived ergin, she 'd be Mistis Ezekyel Sykes
down een Raccoon Holler/ she would ! " He shook
his head pitifully ; " Sal, Sal j my heart ar' plum
broke ! "
III.
" Lah sakes, Ezekiel, what ails yah, boy ? " Again
the shadow of the great mountain was deepening over
the little cottage, when, foot-sore, bruised, weary,
and disconsolate, Ezekiel Sykes dragged himself in
through the open gate and dropped his boots upon
the j&oor of the porch, his coat beside them. His
mother's salutation roused him, and he raised a quiz-
zical face to hers — a face which sui'ely only a mother
could have recognized. A faint smile flittered among
the few clearings upon it — a dim ghost of his old
smile.
" Be'n ter th' yan side of the mount'in. Ma ! '' He
sank upon the top step and rested his chin upon his
hand. '^ An^ I hain't er-torkin' much erbout hit ter-
night."
The woman checked her second exclamation. She
was used to the young man's moods 5 and, besides,
the results of the fist and skull fights were perfectly
familiar to her in that rough country of green whisky
and exciting elections. But for Ezekiel to come home
in these piping days of peace bearing evidences of
having figured on the losing side of a scrimmage was
altogether novel.
84 AN IDYL OF "SINEIN' MOUNTAIN"
^^Ezekiel," she said, ^'tell juh ma how hit come
erbout ? " Ezekiel ejected a stream of tobacco- juice
from between his swollen lips, and wiped them gently
with the back of his hand.
" Hit aU come uv one sub-binder unner thet ar ear ;
hit war lammed when I war er-pullin' out er my coat
an^ my arm hit war stickin^ ter the sleeve. Ef th'
mountain hitse'f hed er fell thar, hit 'u'd er be'n erbout
ther size er thet ar lick. But, Ma, cook suthin^ quick.
Hit's be'n nigh outer two mortul days sence I eat. I
did n't want nobody er-laughin' at Ezekiel Sykes, an'
so I come honggry all ther way back."
^' Why, sakes erlive, ther boy mus' be er-perishin'.
Set right thar, Ezekiel, an' don't yuh move er peg tell
I git er pone er bread an' er pot er coffee."
The good woman bustled off and disappeared.
While this brief scene was enacting, Dorinda stood
within the shadows of her little room, her fingers
clasped and eyes set eagerly upon the pair. Her
mother's form had but disappeared in the kitchen when
she glided out and sank upon her knees at the young
man's side, her hand upon his shoulder.
^^O Zeke, Zeke ! " she whispered, "lemme do suthin'
fur yuh ! Are yuh hurted bad, Zeke ! "
He gazed at her with his one open eye a full
minute before replying. The look was so comical, so
utterly foreign to him, so pathetic withal, that she
finally threw her head back and laughed until the val-
Hj(,4
Zeke and Dorinda,
^.V IDYL OF ''SIXEIX' MOUNTAIN." 85
ley seemed to swarm with silvery echoes. Ezekiel
blinked wisely at her.
" D'rindy," he said, '^ ynh better laugh fur two ; I
ain' ekil ter any ter-night."
And so she did. Her emotion, which was deeper
than the occasion, ran off in laughter that approached
the hysterical.
" O Zeke ! " she gasped, " s'posen thet ar pictur^
man hed er took yer ter-day ! " Zeke's queer smile
came out again, gamboled pitifully in the small clear-
ings of his countenance, and went back with a sud-
denness that was grotesque. The girl was still hold-
ing her sides, but presently she wiped her eyes with
her apron.
^^O Zeke," she said. ^'I'm so sorry! TVhatkinI
do fur yuh ? "
" Natur' is er-callin^ fur suthin' to go innards," he
declared oracularly, " sech es Ma gits up j an' I reck'n
as how natur' ought ter be callin' fur suthin' ter go
outside. Git some water, D'rindy. Ef hit had n' er
be'n fur thet ar leadin' sub-binder " But the girl
had glided into her room and caught up her crock.
She sped out to the little rivulet, sparkling icy cold
from the spring. Presently she came back with it
full and placed it on the step.
"Now, Zeke," she said, "yuh jes' set down thar
on th' nex' step an' lay yuh head in my lap — so !
Now keep stiU." Her plump little hand cupped water
86 ^N IDYL OF "SINKIN' MOUNTAIN."
against the swollen places of his head, and as she
bathed them thus the young man, soothed and quieted,
ever and anon gazed up into her violet eyes and
flushed face.
" I declar' ter goodness, D^rindy," he said, seeking
for some way to express his gratitude, " yuh han' ^s es
sof es er moss-patch, an' yuh es putty es th' sunset
on th' mount'in."
^'Shet yer jaw, Zeke; yer pokin' fun at me! An'
yuh eyes can' see ter-night, nuther."
Still her heart beat fast and strong. It was the
first compliment a man had ever paid to her looks.
She might live out her lonely life unblessed here in
the valley, and the horizon of her daily existence be
the long blue peaks and her simple household duties ;
but the memory of the words that she had heard
would dwell with her always. Her soul could thrive
upon a crust that other women would spurn.
Silence fell upon them, the gliding water lapping
the bruised face and lullabying the perturbed spirit,
the soft hand of the girl weaving a spell for the
wounded warrior. Long time they sat thus, and ever
and anon his single eye sought the face above it.
Something of wonder was stirring within him. Hers
was a beautiful face ; he had never known it before.
He had seen it a thousand times ; how was it that
the fact had escaped him ? ^' She ai-' putty as ther
sunset on ther mount'in," he assented dreamily, in-
^Y IDYL OF ''SINKIN' MOUNTAIN." 87
dorsing his own compliment 5 "an' er dern sight
puttier." The remaining orb blinked at her dreamily
and closed beside its mate.
" "What yuh sayin', Zeke % "
*' I war er-sayin' er dern sight puttier ; thet 's what
I war er-sayin'/' he answered faintly.
"Who?'^ she asked softly. Then presently she
added, ^' Sal Boler % " One of EzekiePs eyes opened
wide 5 the other struggled in vain beneath its thick
blue curtain.
''Who said Sal Boler ?'^
She turned her face away and fixed her gaze upon
the distant peaks. Her reply was just audible and
full of pathos :
"Yuh went thar, Zeke. I did n' mean ter hyah
hit, but th' parson talked so loud. War she trooly a
widder, Zeke, an' — an' — did she trooly wanter come
an' be — Mistis Ezekiel Sykes down een Raccoon
HoUer?"
It was out at last ; and the sentence seemed to end
almost in a moan. One tear fell down from above
him, but it splashed only the little hand that soothed
his wounds.
" D'rindy," he answered after a long silence, " I had
er mind ter keep my jaw shet, but hit hain't no use
now. An' I don't care noway. D'rindy, Sal Boler
hes done j'ined ter er city feller, an' hit war him what
shet thet ar eye ! Hit makes yuh jump, an' hit made
88 ^^ IDYL OF "SINKIN' MOUNTAIN."
me jump too, at fust. D'rindy, ef any man hed
er said ter me yestiddy mornin' when I went out er
thet gate, ^ Ezekiel Sykes, Sal Boler is j'ined ter er city
feller, an' th^ city feller is goin' ter lick yuh af o' night/
I 'd er said he war er dinged fool ef no worser, an'
ter es face. But them ar is ther two things hes
come erbout. An I mus' say, thet while I don' think
no better er Sal Boler, but on the contrarywise do
set her down fer er huzzy, hit mus' be 'lowed thet
thar es suthin' more in city fellers 'n I most ginerally
have let on j only hit ain't er fair fight ter open up
'ith sub-binders on the ear when er man is hung een
his coat-sleeve."
"An' did yuh see 'er, Zeke ?"
" No. I seed whar she war said ter be er-livin', an'
then me an' the city feller thet had gimme a lift got
ter jawin', an' hit come out thet Sal Boler was done
j'ined unter him two weeks or more. One word
started ernuther," he added, "an' ernuther started
ther sub-binder."
Ezekiel was expanding under the humane treat-
ment, and could afford even to indulge in pleasantry.
Mrs. Sykes dissipated the charm that had been
woven about them by appearing suddenly with a
great quantity, though limited variety, of the physic
that " natur' " had called for in behalf of Ezekiel, and
to which the patient took kindly, not to say greedily.
Dorinda watched him eat with a vague unrest in her
AN IDYL OF "SINKIN' MOUNTAIN." 89
heart. There is nothing at any time attractive to a
woman in the sight of a hungry man at his meals.
But when Ezekiel went in to lie down upon his
mothei*'s bed, as he used to when a boy when tired
or troubled, — and was he not still her boy? —
the deserted girl stood up gazing on the mountains
veiled in their violet mists into which the blue sky of
the ending day was melting, their depths shot with
roseate rays. The scene was miniatured in her
shadowy eyes, where a softer light was beaming.
" He 's come back free, an' he said my han' war soft
es er patch er moss, an' I war es putty es the sunset
on th' mountains : he said hit ! " Her eyelids drooped
over their orbs, and her chin sunk upon her breast.
Then, stai-ting as from a dream, she followed into
the house.
That night, when Dorinda lay dreaming in the lit-
tle shed-room so fuU of her own life, there came
down the valley a deep, booming, roaring volume of
sound, and the house trembled responsive to its
vibrations. Nearer it approached, and her room was
fiUed with the fierce light of an electric flash which
seemed to explode there. Blinded, stunned, terrified,
she groped toward the door and lifted the latch. She
was almost thrown down by the storm that burst in
upon her. The air seemed fuU of timbers, stones,
and flying drift, and the thunder was as the thunder
of the waters that come down at Tallulah when the
90 ^^ IDYL OF ''SINKIN' MOUNTAIN.''
river is full. Her voice when she called was beaten
back as a feather in her throat. The timbers of the
little room seemed about to fly apart. Gasping with
fear, unable to close the door against the mighty-
blast, she gave herself up for lost. With her limbs
benumbed, she tottered and fell. There, as she lay
awaiting death, a man came and in the screaming
fury of the storm lifted her in his arms. There was
a moment in which the deluge splashed her face and
the next instant she was drawn into the warm
kitchen. She saw by the tremulous light of the
mysterious flame the half-blackened face of Ezekiel
bent above her, and faintly as one calling afar off
heard his mother's voice :
^' He holds th' thunder een es han'
An' rides upon th' storm,"
just as the parson used to line it out at Zebulon.
Then came darkness.
When Dorinda gained consciousness her adopted
mother was bathing her facej they were alone,
Ezekiel having withdrawn at her command. The
storm was now at its height, and the room was full
of the sudden and fearful blazes. Dorinda struggled
to her feet again. Her lips moved rapidly, but all
sound was lost in the din of the battle waged about
them. Suddenly she broke from the elder woman's
clasp and rushed to the porch. For an instant her
mother thought that, crazed with fear, she had
^^V IDYL OF "SINKIN' MOUNTAIN." 91
thrown herself into the storm, but in the next back
came the girl through the furious elements, drenched,
and with her hair blown wildly over her half-nude
shoulders. The lightning trembled over and seemed
to lick her form from head to foot, and by the sheen
of its liquid, wavy flame she saw that the girl's hand
clinched the little photograph of Ezekiel, torn from
its frame of mica, while her face in its beautiful
triumph seemed almost glorified. The secret was
written there.
" D'rindy, D'rindy, child ! " she cried. " Why hain't
yuh tole me af o' 1 ''
The words, screamed as they were in the night from
the heart of the woman, did not reach the girl, who
covered up the little picture in her chilled bosom,
and crouched shivering by the smoldering fire. Her
companion gazed upon her piteously, then kneeled
beside her, and, pointing upward, moved her lips.
Dorinda understood, and followed her example. Still
raged the storm ; such an one had never before burst
upon Raccoon Hollow. Suddenly there was a noise
as though the mountain itself had been riven asunder,
and the house shook until the crockery danced upon
the shelves. Then all grew still. Rising to her feet,
the elder woman drew the shivering girl to the bed
where the old man, deaf to the storm and oblivious of
life, slept the sleep of second childhood, wrapped a
blanket about her and thrust her under cover.
" Ma," she moaned, and the word sounded as it did
92 AX IDYL OF '' SIXKIN' MOUNT 'IN."
when on that sad day years ago the kind-hearted
woman received her as a charge — '' Ma, kiss me onct,
please"; just the appeal made to the dead that lay
unresponsive to its frightened offspring. It was the
first time that she had used it since. With tears
streaming from her eyes the woman bent and kissed
her thrice, and her lips when she rose were wet with
the tears of the girl.
" An' him er-lovin' nobody but ole Tom Boleros gal/'
she said. " Hit 's more 'n I kin make out."
IV.
In the morning, wlien Ezekiel looked forth from
the doorway, an appalling spectacle met his gaze.
The mountain had actually split asunder, and one half
had sunk far down below the other. So sharply was
the line drawn that a great pine, yielding one-half its
trunk to the departed, upreared the other with the
firmer rock, its white riven heart blazing the hillside
like a monument. Pale with astonishment, Ezekiel
gazed long upon the scene, but there was something
yet more appalling reserved for him — not a stalk of
corn was left in the valley ! His mother came to him,
and was silent too in awe at the desolation apparent
and the change in the familiar old mountain. " All
gone, Ma, all gone ! " he groaned. The lips of the pale
woman trembled. She was wont to say that her faith
was like the mountain, but was not the mountain split
at last ? Her hand rested upon him as it had, oh so
many, many times when trouble oppressed them.
" Th^ Lord '11 pervide, Ezekiel. He kep' us in the
night, an' he kin keep us in th' day."
^^ I be'n hyarin' that. Ma, all these years, an' now
look ! Poorer 'n' poorer year een an' year out. Es
fur me, I war whupped when Pa got inter troubP 'ith
94 AN IDYL OF " SINKIN' MOUNTAIN."
tlie law an' we had ter sell all ter pay out. Th' Lord
maybe did pervide, but hit 's be'n mighty hard livin'
sence."
" Hush, Ezekiel ! " the woman whispered. " Hit 's
blaspheemy! Leave hit erlone; th' righteous '11
never beg bread ; leave hit erlone. Th' han' thet kin
split mount'ins kin pervide fur hits own."
The light had come back to the weary face, and it
was almost beautiful in its new faith as she turned
humbly and went about her household duties. But
Dorinda, watching her, thought that her step was
feebler than she had ever seen it.
" Aun' Betsey," she said, putting her arm upon her
shoulder, " don't yuh give up."
" Give up ! No, deary 5 I ain't er-givin' up. But ef
ther Lord hed er tuck us las' night, I would n' er
lifted a finger ter hender him. Hit warn't his will,
D'rindy, an' I 'm willin' ter wait."
It was a gloomy day for Raccoon Hollow. Ezek-
iel, under the lingering pains of his old misfortune
and the new, wandered about disconsolate, and when
morning dawned again the last of the Sykes' meal
went into pones of bread.
The mystery of the mountain spread far and near.
The day upon which the fortunes of the Sykes family
seemed at their lowest ebb was signalized by the arrival
of an excursion party from The Falls. Ten or twelve
ladies and gentlemen on horseback and in vehicles
^V IDYL OF ''SINEIN' MOUNTAIN:' 95
rode over to see ttie wonder, bringing a well-ordered
lunch. They chattered over the catastrophe, climbed
the mountain, and presently the ladies rendezvoused
at the little house. Here the lunch was spread, and
Dorinda brought water from the spring and rendered
many little kindly services. After lunch the party
swarmed unceremoniously over the premises, includ-
ing Dorinda's little room, which delighted them as
much, probably, as the mountain interested. Especial
attention was devoted by the ladies to the delicate
traceries upon the mica frame, to which Ezekiel's
photograph had been carefully restored. A hand-
some, grave young gentleman was asked to examine
it. He did so, and turning to Dorinda, whose cheeks
flushed, perhaps by the praise already bestowed,
asked :
'^ Where did that mica come from?"
" Well, now, is n^t that just like Captain Moore ! "
exclaimed one of the ladies. " We were not talking
about the mica, sir, but the tracings."
He smiled. " The tracings have great merit," he
said J "but there is more money in mica that will
split into such large clear sheets than in all the art
that can be put upon it. You say that you found it
near here ? " This to Dorinda.
" Yes, sir."
" And will you go with me to see it in the morning,
if I return ? "
96 ^^ IDYL OF ''SINKIN' MOUNTAIN."
" Yes, sir, ef yiili wants me, an' th' mountain hain't
sunk 'ith liit." The party began to prepare for de-
parture. Presently there was a brief consultation
among the gentlemen ; then as some were galloping
away one of them approached Mrs. Sykes and poured
a handful of small silver into her hand. " For your
kind attentions/' he said. Before she comprehended
he mounted and galloped away, leaving her speech-
less with surprise and emotion. Ezekiel came out
of the wood where he had concealed his disfigure-
ment all day, and there on the porch he and Dorinda
found her sitting. Tears were running down her
cheeks, and she made no effort to restrain them.
She held out the hand blessed with so much silver.
" Ezekiel," she said, and then her eyes lifted upward
and finished the sentence. He comprehended.
'^ Yes, Ma," he said gently, " yuh ar' right an' I ai*'
wrong, es ar' most commonly true." But the girl put
her arms around her and kissed the wrinkled cheeks
in silence.
Early the next day sensitive Ezekiel took to shelter
again, for Captain Moore kept his promise. Ezekiel
was hidden on the mountain, from which he beheld
the gentleman and Dorinda pick their way across the
rift to the far side. It was a difficult journey, and
though the girl was as agile as a deer, Ezekiel noticed
with a queer pain at his heart that the stranger
insisted upon extending his hand to her every time
occasion offered, and that it was always accepted.
'Look out above your bowlder, Ezekiel."
^^Y IDYL OF ''SINKIN' MOUNTAIN," 97
''Dad blast th' feller .'"he said: ''he^d better git
her ter help him, stidder him er-helpin^ her."
The girl was in a particularly merry mood. Did
she suspect that the single eye of the disfigured
doctor was upon her? She was a woman, and the
curious can argue the conclusion. Her laughter
rang out across the rift, and he found himself angry
and uncomfortable generally. Heigh-ho, Ezekiel
Sykes ! You cannot understand nature after all, can
you ? See that leap she has just made, her hair flying
and poke-bonnet waving. How beautifully done!
The gentleman does not follow — ah, but he does,
and she beams upon his success. Look out above
your bowlder, Ezekiel, with your one capable eye,
and mutter "Dad blast him ! " as much as you
please ; they are not concerned about you.
The mica was found more than ever uncovered by
the slide ; a wonderful seam it was, hemmed in by
quartz. The gentleman said little, but was evidently
deeply interested. Finally he ascertained, by casual
questions, that the ownership was vested in Mrs.
Sykes. But the next day he came again, and again
•the girl accompanied him. He was trying to follow
the vein. And the history of one day was as the
history of its predecessor, even down to Ezekiel.
But at last, standing over the mica, the captain
and the girl held a long and earnest conversation.
Ezekiel saw her give him her hand impulsively,
and they came back, her .face flushed, her eyes
98 -4A^ IDYL OF "SINKIN' MOUNTAIN."
sparkling. The truth, as it appeared to Ezekiel, was
unmistakable, and he was full of rage when he saw
the stranger depart and Dorinda wave her bonnet in
response to a wave of his hat. But alas for Ezekiel ;
there was no time for questions. A second large
party had come up from The Falls and swarmed over
the place, and back into the friendly shadows of the
mountain the young man carried his poulticed ear
and picturesque scars. When this party left, the
trustful and hospitable old lady was again blessed
with coin.
So ran the summer awayj but ere it had ended,
the little home, or " Aunt Betsey's," as it had come to
be known, became a regular rendezvous for visitors,
who got there midday meals, bought strings of bead-
corn, posies of gay flowers, and queer bits of quartz and
mica with delicate traceries upon the latter. The cow
and chickens had come back ; the pigs, too, returned;
yes, and the bee-hives. And everything about the
yard straightened up, as with new life, from their
leaning attitudes. From the rafters of the kitchen
were hung yarns and provisions and shoes for the
long winter, and scores of other articles for home
use ; and on the shelves were bolts of cloth, canned
goods, and all the necessaries of life. Dorinda^s gown
was as nice as anybody's. The smile of God seemed
to rest upon Raccoon Hollow and the riven mountain.
How was it with Ezekiel? The clouds still hung
low. The intuition of the young woman had placed
her in possession of his secret before he knew that he
had one, and with the perversity of her sex she turned
the tables upon him. Her smiles were distributed
among the tourists, and she learned to give keen an-
swers to their good-humored banterings. Often he
had tried to tell her of his misery, but with the train-
ing she had been receiving from the beaux and co-
quettes, he was no match for her. One day she went
to him with a great secret.
'^ Zeke ! " she said, *^ I ar' er-goin' ter tell yuh
suthin'. Th' parson war erlong ter-day, an^ tickled
nigh unter death. He do say hit 's all er joke erbout
Sal Boler's gittin' j'ined to thet ar city feller, which
war er drummer an' er-foolin' yuh. Th' parson say
es how hit 's all over Calliny, an' folks es er-torkin
erbout 'Zeke Sykes's los' widder'." She held her
sides, and followed up the information with a most
provoking spasm of mirth. Ezekiel gasped for breath.
His voice was hoarse when he spoke at last
'' Th' parson tole yuh ?"
100 ^N IDYL OF "SINKIN' MOUNTAIN."
"On course. He come straight from Sal's, an' she
tole 'im 'ith her own mouth. Now yuh kin go back, an'
Sal kin be ^ Mistis Ezekiel Sykes down een Raccoon
Holler.' '' There was just the faintest tremor in her
voice, but Ezekiel was beyond the comprehension of
fine shadings then. She had expected an outburst ;
there was none. The young man walked off, and the
signs were unmistakable ; he was crushed.
" Zeke, are yuh hurted bad sure 'nough ? " she called
after him repentantly. He made no reply. When he
came back later she was sitting on the steps.
"Ma," he said, "I 'm er-goin' ter Th' Falls, an'
maybe I won't come back 'n er week; an' maybe
hit '11 be two. They do say es how thar ar' more
chance fur mount'in men in Alabam', an' I 'm er-git-
tin' sorter worrit down here, I '11 tork ter yuh when
I 'm done torkin' ter them thet knows. Thar be
some erbout Th' Falls now thet knows." He kissed
her cheek, an odd caress for Ezekiel, and affected not
to see her anxious look.
" Good-bye, D'rindy," he said, as he passed her on
the steps. " New frien's es better 'n ole frien's." A
great lump rose in the girl's throat ; she could not
speak. He passed through the gateway and took the
road that led to The Falls, walking listlessly. She
watched him for a moment, then rose and darted after
him, her light step giving out scarcely a sound. If
he heard, he made no sign. Presently she laid a hand
AN IDYL OF ''SINXm' MOxfNT'YN^ ' ' lol
upon liis shoulder, and then he turned and looked
down into the violet eyes, while a trembling seized
him.
" Zeke," she said, a little smile quivering upon her
lips, " when yuh git ter Alabam' won't yuh write er
letter?"
^' One writes ter yuh now, an' one es ernough."
He blurted the words out and drew from under her
touch.
" O Zeke ! '^ She looked at him with such reproach
that he was half ashamed. Then she laughed, point-
ing her finger at him. ^* Zeke, I do berlieve yuh er-
slippin' off ter court Sal Boler ergin." She bent
almost double with the idea.
" No, I be n't," he said hoarsely.
" Yuh ar', Zeke. Yuh ar' ! An' O Zeke, ef yuh be,
look out fur drummers on th' road ! "
He turned and strode off without a word more.
She leaned her back against a tree weak with laugh-
ing, her feet thrust out in front. Presently she
called him.
" Zeke ! " He turned and glared back at her in
silence. "Zeke Sykes," she continued, "yuh ar^ er
bigger fool 'n I seen this year, an' thar 's be'n some
big ones ^round hyar, th' Lord knows." Her face
was flushed and she held out her arms. " Zeke, take
me erlong ter Alabam', won't yuh % " He came back
doubting, but the arms were not lowered, and into
102 AN IDYL OF ''SINEIN' MOUNTAIN."
them he walked, speechless with the change from
despair to happiness. He held her a long time.
" D'rindy/' he said, ^^ an' yuh love me arter all ? "
''Yes, an' afo' all — fom th' fus' time when joih
used ter tote me on yuh back over ther rocks. O
Zeke ! I hain't never loved nobody else in th' whole
worl' but yuh." Tears crept from under the half-
closed eyelids, and then there was silence as he
pressed her close to him.
"Well," said Ezekiel finally, '^I war er fool mos^
trooly."
Two more incidents close the idyl of " Sinkin'
Mount'in," as Zeke's sign-board at the fork of the
roads has it. The captain's letters, spelled out with
much labor, gave assurance of a sale of the mica
deposit at a good price. This is one. The other is :
In the closing hours of the season, Ezekiel, wander-
ing about the hotels, met face to face the drummer
who had made him a jest throughout one corner of
Carolina. He spoke not a word, but kept his eye on
the practical joker until he had drawn his own arms
entirely free of that fatal coat and dropped it to the
earth. Then he slapped his thigh.
'' Stranger," he said, " yuh be er-lookin' on Ezekiel
Obadiah Sykes."
A smile came to the other's face.
" Ah ! " said he. " ' Natur's doctor.' "
AN IDYL OF " SINKIN' MOUNTAIN." 103
" Th^ same. Stranger, Sal Boleros husbun' thet
wa'n't ar^ goin^ ter git whupped een erbout two min-
nuts." He laiinclied forth with a mighty sub-binder,
and — well, truth is truth — the next instant was
knocked off his feet flat on his back. Rising to a
sitting position, stunned, dizzy, and astounded, he
gazed a moment up into the smiling face of the scien-
tific boxer above him.
" Ezekiel," he said to himseK softly, " Ezekiel Sykes,
yuh be er dinged fool mos' trooly." Slowly picking
up his coat, he turned his back on the assembling
crowd and took the road for Raccoon Hollow. As he
approached the house after his long journey the
humor of the situation overcame him, and he chuckled
quietly to himself.
^' Th^ feller be full er sub-binders es er hog be full
er fleas," he said ; and then as Sinking Mountain rose
before him he added, cocking one eye and coming to
a standstill : " Hit ain't onpossible thet it war th'
same chap busted thet ar mountain ! "
"OLE MISS" AND "SWEETHEART."
I.
HAD reached the ridge by such gradual
ascents that I scarcely realized how high
it was. The last single bird my dog had
set passed straight away over the top,
trailing a broken leg ; and partly to seek
him, and partly to reach a point from which I might
locate the railroad whence in the early morning I
had wandered, I followed the route he chose. At
the top I found myself upon an old bastion, one of
the few visible footprints of war, for Macon was not
many miles away, and here, but for the armistice that
followed Appomattox, "Wilson would have met an
armed foe instead of a flag of truce.
The scene before me was transcendently beautiful.
An undulating plain lay spread at my feet, and ten
miles away the blue hills rose up again and hemmed
it in. This plain was dotted here and there with
cabins — the mansions were nearly all gone. The
exceptions stood forth in the distance — white homes
104
''OLE MISS'' AXD " sweetheaet:' 105
studding the green slopes. Curving round the base
of my hill ran the steel bands of the railroad, and
not two miles away I saw the station.
The sun with me was shining with a fierce glare,
and I wondered at the cheerful song of the negroes
near at hand, picking cotton from the white rows
which stood in ranks about the abandoned fort. But
away off straight ahead a broad shadow lay upon the
plain over which the clouds swept grandly eastward,
and ten miles to the right I saw the trailing rain
rushing across a darkened belt of woods. From this
cooling spot the wind came with a delicious touch.
" Yes, sir," said a boy, whose labors had brought
him abreast of me, '^ dere ^s a spring down yonner."
He pointed to where on the plain two great Lom-
bardy poplars lifted their boughs skyward, and
thither, with almost parched lips, down the steep
gravelly slopes I moved.
As I approached nearer the two poplars, I saw that
they stood to the right and left of a plantation bur-
ial-ground, whose rocky wall was overgrown with
ivj, and interior with weeds. Beyond, two desolate-
looking chimneys reared themselves in a clump of
cedars, the nearest trees blackened and dead, as if
from the touch of flames. My dog, with his nose in
air, ran into the inclosure, and stood upon a " point."
Passing under the poplars, I followed, with my gun
ready ; but nothing rose, and after one or two hesi-
106 ''OLE MISS" AND ''SWEETHEART."
tating starts, he pounced -iipon a dead bird and
brought it to my feet. It had flown until its life
was exhausted.
Then I noticed that the graves about me were
marked by slabs, and on them I read the record of
many Cassels who were "born" and who "died"
according to the dates opposite these respective an-
nouncements. But one grave differed in its appoint-
ments. It bore the simple words " Old Miss," and was
as white and clean as if laid but yesterday. There
w^as no date, no epitaph 5 only the white slab and the
legend " Old Miss." As I studied it curiously a gaudy
Hzard came from the weeds upon the hot stone, and
questioned me with his bright eyes.
Passing out, I saw, a short way off, beneath the
low, wide-spreading limbs of a black-gum, a cabin,
and the red and blue turbans of two negro women.
The dog had already announced my presence, and
hurried on to the spring, guided by an unerring
instinct. A little darky in one short garment peeped
from behind his grandmammy, where he had fled from
the brute's cold, inquisitive nose, and as I approached,
the eyes of all three were turned upon me.
" Yes, sah," one of the women replied, putting aside
a bread- tray, into which she was shelling pease ; " en
hit ^s good water, too. Set down, sah, teU I fetch er
gourd."
" No, sah, don't nobody live heah 'cep'n' me en de
''OLE MISS" AND ''SWEETHEART." 107
chillun/^ said the other, who had respectfully taken
her cob pipe from her mouth and laid it aside. A
pail- of bright little eyes regarded me kindly from
under a pair of enormous silver-rimmed spectacles,
which had been pushed up over her forehead and
were blankly studying the sky. The voice was low
and peculiarly gentle. " De Cass'ls used ter live heah
tell der war cummed on, den dey uz mosly killed
up } en den de yarmy cum erlong en bu^nt de place.
En Ole Miss died." She looked at me curiously as she
asked, suddenly, ^' Does you know any uv de f ambly ? "
^^ No ; but I saw a grave up yonder, with ' Old
Miss ' cut on it."
The old face took on a new light as I spoke. I
began to recognize the old "mammy" of an ante-
helium Southern home.
" Yes, sah, we alls used to call 'er dat, ^cause she
wuz Marse Alleck's widder; en atter while Young
IVIiss cum erlong. Hit 's er pity you did n' know Ole
Miss. Lord, Lord, but she uz er lady fum erway
back ! ''
" Dat she wuz," interpolated the younger woman,
who stood by while I drank the cooling draught from
her long-handled gourd. " None er dese heah hifa-
lutin' kind ; no, sah. She uz es tall ^mos' es you, en
es straight es er Ingin, w'ich uz natchul, fur she cum
fum Firginny, en dey do say one uv 'er great-grand-
ma's wuz pure Ingin herse'f ."
108 "OLE MISS" AND "SWEETHEART."
The dog, having, after the fashion of setters, cooled
himself in the spring, was stretched upon the ground,
watching me with half-shut eyes. The shade was
refreshing and the rest welcome. I settled down in
the white-oak chair, while the young woman resumed
her pea-shelling, and let the garrulous old mammy
continue with her memories. The show of attention
was a small price to pay for the relaxation of limbs
in this cool shade.
The speaker continued slowly : " But Ole Miss uz
er lady, en er fine lady at dat, fum de time Ole Mars-
ter fetch 'er down heah in de kerridge, wid es grays
jes' er-prancin', tell she uz laid out up yonner by 'im,
dead. Nobody nev'r saw 'er when she warn't dressed
up like she uz er-goin' ter er party. En lace ! Well,
sah, up ter de las' ole silk dress she had lef wuz split-
tin' in de creases she had real lace caps en collars,
en lace on 'er sleeves en han'kerchiffs. Wen she
warked she jes' sorter move erlong wid 'er he'd 'way
up yonner, en did n't look like she uz er-stepp'n' at all.
Nobody nev'r knowed 'er ter laf out loud ; but she 'd
smile de sweetes', en 'er voice uz sof, like de win' out
yonner in de pines. But dat uz w'en she uz at peace
wid uz all ; but jus' you let 'er git riled — en et took
er heap ter rile 'er, lemme tell you — en 'er eyes 'u'd
dance, en 'er words cut de arr like de oberseer's whup
on er bad nigger's back. 'T wus de same way w'en she
uz er gal. But kind en good ! Lord ! I seen 'er menny
''OLE MISS" AXD ''SWEETHEART." 109
er-time go down dem back steps en set up over yon-
ner in de quarters wid er sick nigg'r all night long,
er-doin' fur 'er like she uz white en kin ; en she wid
'er silks en laces on too ! You know den dere warn't
nair' nigger on de place but 'd er died fur Ole Miss ; en
well dey might, fur God knows she uz er good ooman,
en had seen er heap er trubbl'. Ef had n't er been fur
de baby, I don't reck'n she 'd er held out es long es
she did."
'' So there was a baby ? "
" Yes, sah. You see," she continued, '^ Marse Frank
uz erbout all de Cass'ls dat uz lef. Wen he uz killed
up yonner at — at — watcher call it ? — Getty "
'^Gettysburg?"
''Yes, sah. Wen Marse Frank uz killed, ev'y-
body sed de race uz gone ; but bime-by er little gal
cum, en 'er ma en Ole Miss all fell ter cryin', en dey
gave 'er her pa's name. But 'er ma called 'er Sweet-
heart, en so ev'ybody got ter callin' her dat."
" En I reck'n," said Mandy, " nair' nuther baby like
'er nev'r lived."
" You see," said the first speaker, whose memories
had been stirred, " Mandy heah used ter nuss 'er,
'cause her ma uz weak en sickly ; but nuth'n' 'u'd do
but I mus' tu'n gal ergin en ten' dat baby. Dat uz
'er gran'ma's noshun — Miss Carrie warn't nuth'n' but
er gal 'erself w'en Marse Frank tuk 'er right out uv
er ballroom en fetch 'er heah. But she uz er lady down
no ''OLE MISS'' AND ''SWEETHEARTS
ter 'er heels, en es good, en had es good er heart, es
de bes\ Only she did n't know nuth'n' 'bout babies,
en me en all de f ambly, f um Ole Miss on, had ter he'p.
But 't warn't 'er fault the baby died."
^^Died?"
"Yes, sah; hit died. I know'd fum de fust what
uz er-goin' ter happ'n. Sum time hit look ter me
like er baby es er heap old'r 'n hit is. Dis wun uz
er-laughin' en er-crow'n' 'f o' hit uz er week ole, en I
told Mandy den dat hit uz er bad sign. Cry? No,
sah. En she know'd folks by deir names. Ef enny-
body 'd say, '■ Mammy,' she set eyes on me ; en ef dey
call er ma's name, she 'd tu'n roun' en look like she uz
er-lis'nin\ One night I wake up, en she uz er-lay'n'
dere laugh'n' en er-call'n' ' Papa ' ; en hit look ter me
like she uz er-talk'n' ter sumbody wot uz wid 'er ; but
dey wuz n't nobody dere, en 'er pa uz de'd en buried
'mos' two years back. Lord ! Lord ! but de chile's
ways did worry me ; en I know'd w'at uz cummin'.
Wen she I'arnt ter say '■ Mamma,' look ter me like
Miss Carrie 'u'd kiss 'er ter def ; en den she 'u'd cry
en say, ' Ef 'er pa c'u'd only hev lived ! ' En den she 'd
hug de baby en cry ergin."
" Miss Carrie uz er mighty good ooman," said
Mandy, pouring her pease into a basket, and replen-
ishing her tray from the unshelled stock — " er mighty
good ooman."
" Dat she wuz — es good es de bes'. En dat chile ! —
''OLE MISS'' AND ''SWEETHEART." HI
look like hit uz her life. Young marster, I reck'u
you don't know nuthin' 'bout babies, en can't tellj
but I 'tended Ole Miss, en Ole Miss's chillun, en dey
chillun too, en I tell you sumtimes dere cum erlong
one w'at 's goin' ter 'stonish ev'ybody j en dis uz de
wun in de Cass'l fambly. Hit warn't menny munts
'fo' hit 'u'd lay erwake in de night, en talk en talk like
grow'd-up folks, but nobody uz dere'bouts 'cep'n' me
en Young Miss, en she uz mos' gener'ly ersleep ; en,
bless yo' soul, honey ! I warn't goin' ter wake 'er up ;
hit 'u'd cum soon ernuff. 'T ain't fur me ter say who
dat chile uz er-talkin' ter, but dere uz sumbody dere
wid 'er, en I kivered up my he'd many er time, 'cause
I nev'r know'd w'at dey might er wanted ter say.
Warn't nobody gwine ter hu't dat chile, do'. En den
ter heah 'er sing ^ la ! la ! la ! ' en ' la ! la ! la ! ' — sorter
prac's'n' like ! Psha ! I tole Mandy den po' Miss
Carrie uz goin' ter see trouble. Hit warn't natchul
fur er baby ter nev'r cry, en ter be er-talkin' ter 'erse'f
in de night-time. En Ole Miss uz sorter worr'd 'bout
et too, only she would n't let on dat she wuz. One
day," she continued, after reaching over to shove a
chunk under the kettle boiling near at hand — ^^ one
day she uz er-layin' dere singin' w'en er yaller butt'r-
fly cum in de room, en dance erbout tell 'e find 'er.
He sorter balunce roun' 'er er minit, en sudden like
she stop en look et hit wi' dem big brown eyes. En
den de butt'rfly look at her, stan'in' on de piller en
112 ''OLE MISS" AND ''SWEETHEART:'
er-movin^ es wings up en down, so/' — she gave a capi-
tal representation of the movement, — '^ en den he
dance ronn' en go out de winder ergin. Well, sah,
dat chile jes' lay dere lookin' at dat winder, en bime-
by she sorter smile er li'l', en 'er eyes shot, en she uz
ersleep 'fo^ you could er tu'ned roun\ Jes' 'bout dat
time er mock'n'-burd fly down by de winder, and sing
tell I hatter go en run em erway. Sum folks don't
take notus uv signs en warnin's," she continued, look-
ing at me cautiously, '' but dere ain' nuthin' kin keep
ole mammy fum blievin' dere uz more in dat den er
stray butterfly projec'n' roun\" She paused just long
enough to bestow a whack upon the little darky for
" chunkin' " chips at the dog. " Ain' menny munts
pass 'f o' dat baby start ter walkin', en den we had et,
sho nuff. Look like she did n' wanter go now'ere but
out yonner in de frunchard, where Ole Miss's flow'rs
used ter wuz. I nev'r seed sech a chile fur flow'rs ;
en lemme tell you I tended 'em all fum erway back.
She ain' pull 'em like nair' nuth'r wun uv em. Now
Marse Frank uz putty much de same way 'bout 'em ;
but he nev'r lef nuthin' grow'n' w'en he went 'long,
but 'u'd knock down ev'yt'ing he could get es hands
on ; en menny 's de time I seen Ole Miss box es jaws
'bout et, too," she added, shaking silently over the
far-away picture. ^^But 't warn't so wid de baby.
Sum flow'rs she would n' tech ter save yer. She 'd
paddle right erlong by de pinks en de jewrainyems
''OLE MISS" AND '' SWEETHEABT." 113
en de ^santhymums, en stan' up under er ole red rose
bush en tek wun down. En she ^d pick et open, en
talk en talk en talk tell hit 'u'd 'mos' run me crazy.
En fus^ sing you know, yonner she 'd go er-paddl'n'
cPar 'cross de yard, en git er ole mornin'-glory en talk
ter hit. Need n^ tell me dat chile did n' know w'at she
uz erbout ! En nuthin' would n' pest'r 'er nuth'r. I
seen 'er tek er bumble-bee out'n er mornin'-glory
menny er time, en hold em up tell he 'd fly off. 'Fear'd
dey'd sting 'er? No, sah. Dey know'd 'er, en she
know'd dem. You kin laugh, en I reck'n hit's hard
fur city folks ter b'lieve, but hit 's true. En de hum-
min'-burds! Lord! you'd er laughed sho' nuff ter
seen 'em sorter draw back out'n re'ch uv 'er ban's en
look 'er in de eye, wid deir coats er-shinin' in de sun
like er June-bug's back. En butt'rflies 1 Dey 'd skip
roun' 'er all de time, en ef she had shooger in 'er
ban's — which she had mighty of'n, 'cause Ole Miss
let 'er go ter de shooger-dish 'bout when she wanted
ter — dey 'd set on top 'er fingers, en jes' keep out'n
fum betwix' 'em. Nuthin' would n' hu't dat chile.
No, sah. She slip off one day, w'en I uz er sorter
nodd'n' out dere und'r de mulberry by de kitchen, en,
bless yo' soul ! w'en I woke up she uz er-sett'n' down
frunt er ole Bull, er-pilin' san' on es he'd, en Bull uz
er-layin' dere wid es years pull back, er-lett'n' 'er do
'bout like she please. Bad ? Yes, sah. Ain' but one
nigg'r on de place could tie up dat dog, en he wuz
114 ''OLE MISS" AND ''SWEETHEART:'
Vay off yonner in de cott'n. I tell you dere uz a
time den, 'cause Ole Miss had dun cum out on de
po'ch, en uz er-care'in' on pow'ful. Don't make no
diffunce w'ere dat baby wuz, Ole Miss cum erlong
putty soon. En hit took er heap er talk'n' ter get de
baby back, 'cause ev'y time ennybody went dere, Bull
showed es teef, en dat uz ernuff. But bime-by she
git up en cum off by 'erse'f, en ole Bull sorter lay es
he'd down on one foot, en sweep de groun' behine em
wid es tail, axin' 'er es plain es 'e could talk ter cum
back. I know'd nuthin' warn't goin' ter hu't dat
chile.
^' Yes, sah, she kep' well, too, 'cep'n' wid 'er teef.
Dey uz mighty hard on 'er fum de fus', but she git
erlong well ernuff tell dem eye-teef reddy ter cum.
You see, Miss Carrie uz er town gal, en ez good er
hearted ooman es ev'r lived, — I ain' er-say'n' nuth'n'
ergin 'er, — but she did n't know nuth'n' 'bout de
Cass'l babies j en w'en I brought er string er wood-
ants, jes' same es Marse Frank cut teef wid, ter hang
'roun' de baby's neck, she laf 'erse'f 'mos' to def, en
sed we uz ' soopstishus nigg'rs,' en she would n' 'low
no sech doin's wid her baby. En w'en Mandy fetched
er string er snail-sheUs, w'ich es mighty good dey-
sevs, she laffed ergin, en give 'er er silver quarter;
but she would n' let 'em go on de baby nuth'r. Den
ole 'Liza cum wun day wid er mole's foot, en hit
could n' go dere nuth'r. En w'en Ole Miss wanted er
"OLE MISS" AND ''SWEETHEART." 115
rabbit killed en hits brains rubbed on de baby's gums,
Lord ! but sech cryin' en care'in' on you nev'r seed
sence you uz born'd.
*' Well, so hit went ; en one day I seed Miss Carrie
dancin' de baby up en down 'fo' de lookin'-glass, en
dat settr et. I told Mandy den dere uz er-goin'
ter be troubP sho'. Ain' nuth'n' hu't me wuss 'n dat.
I'd dun hel' in tell I could n' stan' hit no long'r, en
wun day I seed Ole Miss er-watch'n' de chile when
she tort nobody uz erroun', en I seed fum 'er face she
warn't satusfied. Den I sed, look'n' her fair in de
face, ' Ole Miss, dere 's sum'n' wrong wid dis hear
chile, en you ought n' ter set store by 'er too much.'
Bless your soul ! you orter seen 'er ; she shuk all
ov'r, en 'er face tu'n white.
'^ ' Hush ! ' she said, so loud hit like ter skeer'd de
life out er me. En den she whispered, ^ No ! no ! no !
dere 's sum mussy lef ' in Hebb'n yet,' en went straight
ter 'er room. Den I know'd she'd dun seen hit too.
"Well, sah, troubl' cum right erlong. One day
w'en I had been ov'r ter de Simkinses' ter see my
tuther gal w'at 'd married er po' sort uv er nigg'r
ov'r dere — en 'e ain' no better now 'n 'e wuz den —
wud cum dat de baby uz mighty sick, en Ole Miss
hed sont de kerridge fur me. W'en I got dere I
foun' Miss Carrie settin' in 'er room wid de baby in
'er lap, en 'er eyes uz sot in er hard look. ' Mammy,'
she said, jes' es cool es I'm er-say'n' hit now, ^my
116 "OLE MISS» AND "SWEETHEART"
baby es goin' to die.' You see, hit 'u'd dun cum ter
'er at las' jes' like hit did ter me at fus'. But I made
b'lieve she uz only sorter skeered, en tuk de baby.
Hit uz er-bu'nin' up wid f ev'r. Lord ! Lord ! how
hit all cums back ! She used ter lay 'er he'd down on
my shoulder en sleep w'en she would n' sleep no uth'r
way ; en w'en I tuk 'er up, she jes' say, loud ernuff
ter heah, ^ Mammy 'j en I say, ^ Yes, honey, mammy
goin' ter stay wid yer.' En I lay 'er he'd down dere
on my should'r. Well, sah, she uz er sick'r chile 'n I
know'd ; en w'en I look' at 'er, I nev'r seed sech a
change. Movin' 'er uz too much. 'Peared ter me like
she uz alreddy de'd, en I uz er-lookin' down in de
grave at 'er. En I b'lieve ef I had n't laid 'er down
mighty quick, she would er died right dere. En all
she sed uz ' Mammy.' Lord ! I 've hyard dat wurd
ev'r sence — ' Mammy.'"
The old woman turned to the fire again, and made
pretense to rearrange the chunks, while her daughter
bent silently over the tray. Presently she resumed :
" Dem wuz hard times. You see, we ought'r had
er heap we could n' git. Quinine uz scyarce, en
munny could n' buy hit, en we could n' bre'k de fev'r
enny uther way. En ice uz scyarce too. Well, we
watched en tended, tell bime-by de doct'r tuk Miss
Carrie en say she mus' res' ; en by dis time she might
es well res', 'cause de baby didn' know nobody, en
we all could do fer 'er heap bett'r 'n hits ma. So
''OLE MISS" AND ''SWEETHEART:' 117
Miss Carrie went erlong upstairs 'mos' de'd 'erse'f, en
I promis' 'er she should see de baby 'fo' hit die. Well,
I watch^ all dat night en nex' day, en w'en de sun
went down I see er new look on 'er face — a hard,
de'd look — en 'er ban's were col' en stiff, en 'er eyes
sot. Den I went up ter Miss Carrie's room, 'cause I
know'd hit wuz time, but I did n' say nuthin'. ' I
know,' she said. ' Lemme see my baby wunst mo'. '
En all I could do uz ter cry en ter he'p 'er down-
stairs.
" Well, sah, I ivuz 'stonished den, sho' nuff, ter see
how she tuk hit. I uz er-hold'n' 'er on my arm ter
keep 'er fum fall'n', 'cause she uz mighty sick en
weak like 'erse'f. She didn' cry en care' on, but jes'
lif 'er face up ov'r de baby en say, sof ' like, ' Tek 'er,
dear Christ, en keep 'er tell I cum.'
^' ^ Cum now, honey,' says I, ' hit 's ernuff, hit 's er-
nuff. He '11 tek kyar uv 'er ; don't you worry 'bout
dat.' En so, lean'n' on me, she tu'ned to go. But she
ain't tek many steps 'fo' she look up in my face en
say, like 'er heart uz break'n', ^ Mammy, lemme teU
my baby good-night — lemme tell 'er good-night.'
En I could n' er he'p'd et ter save my life. Hit uz jes'
dark ernuff fur de lamps, en wun uz bu'nin' low. We
went back, en she ben' down dere en put 'er face close
ter de baby, en did n' nair' wun uv 'em move, but jes'
staid dere face ter face. We all tried ter look tuth'r
way, 'cause hit warn't right ter watch dem two, but
118 ''OLE MISS" AND " SWJEETHEAET."
sumliow I could n^ En so at las' she tuk de littP face
in 'er han's en call'd 'er ' Sweetheart.' But dere ain'
no word cum back. En so she said ergin, sof like,
' Sweetheart ' -, en still no word. Den she sed — en I
heah de wurds er-moan'n' in dat still room like hit uz
yestiddy: 'Sweetheart, mamma 's cum ter tell you
good-night — good-night en good-bye. You es goin'
up ter God, my baby, ter Christ, ter sleep in es arms,
not mine. I 'm goin' ter miss yer, baby, but yer won't
miss me, for He es tender — oh, yes. He es tend'r,
littP one 5 en papa is dere ter meet yer too. Don't
you git erfeai-'d uv de dark. Sweetheart. You won't
be by yo'se'f. Mammy will hoP wun han' tell Jesus
teks de yuther. En sum day — O Grod ! ' she moan'd
out, tu'nin' 'er he'd erway — ' sum day, darling, I 'm
goin' ter cum too. Good-bye ! good-bye ! good-bye ! '
she kep' on er-sayin' good-bye, sof like, tell I could n'
heah et, fur she dun got cPar down wid 'er cheek ergin
de baby.
" Well, sah, de proof uz dere. Jes' den dat chile
cum back to hits body fur de fus' time in fo' days.
Hits eyes look right up a httP while, en den hit lif
hits lips jes' er littP, en den hits ma ben' down ergin
en tech 'em. She lif' 'er lips dis way free times, en
all de wimmin cry out, en I shouted too : ' Hit 's
God's mussy ; let 'er go now ! Hit 's God's mussy ;
letter go!' But she warn't reddy ter go. No, sah 5
she look dis way en dat way wid dem big eyes sot
on me, en she lif 'er lips; en 'er ma cry out, ^Kiss
''OLE MISS" AND ''SWEETHEART:' 119
^er, mammy, kiss 'er 5 she wants ter tell yer good-bye.'
En, bless yo' soul ! I down on my knees en kiss 'er, en
den 'er eyes shet.
'^ En Miss Carrie, wid er smile on 'er face, en stan'-
in' straight en strong, lif me up en lead me ter de do',
for I uz all broke down en er-cryin' like ev'body else.
At de do' she tu'n ergin en say, jes' es sweet like es
ev'r she talk in 'er life : ^ God es good ter me. We 're
goin' ter meet ergin. Sweetheart; you will sleep in
mamma's arms ergin, but not ter-night, not ter-night.'
En I felt 'er sorter tremble erginst me.
*^ Well, all this time Ole Miss warn't no mann'r ac-
count. She 'd cum in de room en sit dere look'n' at dat
chile 'n fannin' 'er slow en sof, en w'en de doctor
cum she 'd look at him ev'y time 'e sed ennything, but
nev'r so much es op'n' 'er mouf. Dere warn't no sleep
in 'er eyes. Menny 'er time she 'd cum in en look at
me in de night er-settin' dere, en den at de baby, en go
out. Bime-by she 'd cum ergin. She look'd like ter
me she uz er-warkin in 'er sleep 'erse'f, sorter skeer'd
en simple like. I know'd she warn't herse'f den.
But w'en me en Miss Carrie uz er-shak'n' dere in de
do', ev'ything change in er minit. You orter seen Ole
Miss den. She 'd been er-sett'n' dere, wid 'er face
white en still, look'n' at de baby, en now she riz up
sudd'n like, en stood wid 'er ha'r streamin' down on
'er should'rs, en she es straight es er Ingin, en 'er eyes
er-blazin'.
'^ ^ Go,' she said, pointin' 'er long finger at me.
120 ''OLE MISS'' AND '' SWUETHEABT."
' Tek dat chile ter 'er room, en cum back heah/ Her
voice sung out cl'ar, en cut the arr like er bell er-ring-
in'. I know'd 'er den. She started ter wark de room
en I hyard 'er keep er-sayin', ' Fools ! fools ! fools ! '
Miss Carrie give 'er one quick look, en I hyard her
say, ' Po' ole mamma ! ' Den I got 'er upstairs ergin.
"Wen I cum back, dere wuz Ole Miss still er-
wark'n' en er-sayin', ' Fools ! po' weak fools ! ' ter
'erse'f . En ev'y wunst 'n er while she 'd toss up 'er
ban's en shake 'er he'd en sorter trimble all over. All
er sudd'n she shouted out, ^ She shall not die ! ' Wid
dat she warked out inter de nex' room like she uz done
gone crazy sho' nuff. I tell yer I uz skeer'd den, 'cause
hit did look ter me like Ole Miss might give out en
drop down de'd ; so I slipp'd up ter de do' en watch'd
'er. She went er-stormin' up ter de closet dere, en
took down de big Bible, where all de Cass'ls' names en
de Wuthin'tons' uz writ, en I se'd 'er spread et op'n in
de middle, en fling 'erse'f down on 'er knees dere, en
lay 'er face on et. En dere she lay en shuk er minit,
but not long. She lif up one han' at las' en tu'n her
po' ole white face to, en cried out loud, wid de uth'r
han' on de page, ' Look, my God ! look ! All gone !
all! all! all ! — all but dis little one ! Husban', f ath'r,
mudd'r, br'ers, sist'rs, sons — all ! — all but this little
lam' ! Have I cried out befo' ? Did I rel)el ergiust
yer! One at Marnassus, one at Malvun Hill, one at
Shiloh, one at Gettusburg — fever en bullet, shot en
''OLE MISS" AXD '' SWEETHEAET." 121
shell, but nev'r er word, O my God ! One by one they
brought 'em home — husban', fath'r, en sons. Hit
uz thy will. These ole han's closed nev'r er eye.
Hit uz thy will. These ears 'ceived no las' messurges.
Hit uz thy will. I gave them inter thy keep'n', en fur
dey country, w'en de call cum, en you took 'em. I
gave 'em, I say, en no eye see'd de tears in mine. I
hioivhl hit all w^en dey marcWd erwmj. I wuz rendu !
My baby boy ! — dat uz de hardes'. En dey tole me he
cried out ''Mudder !" w'en he fell. O my God ! my
God ! did you heah dat cry ! I have hyard et ev'y
day sence. En now dis chile, his chile, my only one !
Leave 'er ter my ole age, 6 my God ! leave me dis one.
I been too proud en too col', but I am brok'n now.
Leave my baby ! '
^'De words b'nt inter me like fire. I crep' back
dere en set down. Nobody nev'r seen Ole Miss broke
down befo'. She uz iron all ov'r, en hit us jes' like
she sed. Dey brought ole marster home fus', en den
de young ones, tell de las' cum j en she stood by en
saw de graves fiU'd up, en nobody ev'r know'd et ef
she ev'r shed er tear. She wen' down on 'er knees, en
I hyard 'er hour atter hour cryin' out, ' Leave me dis
one ! leave me dis one ! ' En hit did look like she uz
er-prayin' ergin def, for de baby uz col' den, en er-get-
tin' stiff. Dere warn't no bref. She uz de'd es ever
I seen ennybody.
*' Well, sah, I uz dat worn out, w'at wid Ole Miss
122 *'OLE MISS" AND ''SWEETHEART,"
sayin' de same t'ing hotir atter hour in de night, en
my bein^ np so much, I sorter los' myse'f . Sum folks
sez I uz noddin', but don't you b'lieve er word er hit.
All uv er sudden hit look like I c'u'd see er shinin'
angel wid de baby in es arms, en Ole Miss er-holdin'
on ter es robes, en er-cryin' out, ^ Leave me dis one ! '
En bime-by de angel cum back en lay de baby down
on de bed, en I uz erbout ter call Ole Miss, w'en
sudd'n I hyard the Bible slam, bang! en Ole Miss
shout, ^ She will live ! ' Den she cum er-stompin' tru
de do', wid 'er eyes er-blazin' en 'er face shinin' like
nobody ev'r seen hit befo', en bless yo' soul ! jes' den
I hyard a little weak voice dere er-sayin', ' Mammy —
mammy,' en I re'ch out my han'. De chile uz warm.
' Yes, yes,' I shouted ; ^ hit 's His work ! hit 's His
work ! She done cum back f um de de'd.' En all de
wimmin, hyarin' de noise, cum runnin' in, cryin' out,
' De baby es de'd ! de baby es de'd ! ' But Ole Miss,
er-stan'n' straight ergin, shouted back : ^Hit 's er lie;
she lives. Back f um de bed, en give 'er air. Back,
I say ! ' En dey took one look et Ole Miss, en 'mos'
bre'k deir necks gittin' out en down de steps. En
erbout dis time Miss Carrie cum down, er-holdin' on
de walls en do's, en er-steddpn' 'erse'f bes' she could.
She cum en stood dere in de do', white es er ghos', but
sayin' nuthin'. En Ole Miss wen' up en put 'er arms
roun' her, en tuk 'er ter de bed. ^Now, you c'n lay
down,' she sez, ^en sleep. De baby went up yonner.
''OLE MISS" AND ''SWEETHEART." 123
but God look down on us, en sont er angel ter fetch
'er back.' En Miss Carrie laid down en tech ^er lips
ter de baby's. ' She 's warm, en she sleeps/ she whis-
pered. Den she sorter settled down, en fus' sing you
know we uz er-rubbin' ^er, tryin' ter fetch 'er back too,
'cause she'd dun fainted, en staid fainted 'mos' an
houi\"
There was silence a moment. The scenes so vividly
painted seemed to survive in my imagination. Sud-
denly the old woman broke in, with a low chuckle,
'* Mandy, you rec'lec' de nex' We'n'sday atter dat day ? "
'' Yes, marm. Ain' nobody w'at uz dere furgot et."
The old woman rose up fi'om the fire she had been
punching again.
" Well, sah," she continued, ^' sech doin's nev'r uz
seed on de plantation sence my day. Ole Miss sed
de Lord hed dun show'd 'er mussy, en ev'ybody mus'
have er hol'day. Choosdy de oberseer picked out
'leven fat hogs en fo' yearlines, en started de barbe-
cue 'long 'bout dark. En while dey uz er-cookin' de
vitu'ls, de nigg'rs uz er-dancin' en er-sing'n'. Look
ter me like I nev'r seen nigg'rs dance en sing like dat
befo'. Blind Billy uz dere wid es fiddle, en Mike
Slow wid de bones, en Tom Peeples wid es banjo.
Ole ]\Iiss let 'em have er littl' whisky, en hit uz
' swing your cornders,' en ^ ban's all roun',' en *• sha-
shay cross,' tell mighty nigh day. I do b'lieve Unc'
Tom — Tom wuz de kerridge driver — uz de highes'
124 ''OLE MISS" AND '' SWEETHEART »
stepper dere. Ain' nobody love dat baby better 'n
Unc' Tom. Ev'y mornin' 'mos' befo' de sun uz up
good, he 'd hetch up de horses, en wid me er-settV
back in dere like er fine lady en de baby er-sett'n' by
me, he 'd drive all ov'r everywhere, en w'en we git back
she 'd sleep, en Unc' Tom 'u'd tek 'er jes' es tend'rly es
ennybody, en car' 'er in de house w'ile I hoi' de bosses.
En when she uz so bad off, he 'd cum ev'y mornin' ter
de po'ch en look at we alls en shake es hed en go off.
Dat night er big load uz off Unc' Tom, en 'e uz er-
jumpin' roun' cuttin' de short dog good es de bes', en
makin^ b'lieve he uz goin' ter kiss sumbody.
" Sho' nuff de next day de crops wuz n't wurk'd.
De mules lay dey he'ds ov'r de fence en holler'd ter de
cows, like dey uz er-askin' what uz de matt'r, 'cause
dey Jinow'd 't warn't Sunday, en de cows hollered
back en say dey dun know. Erbout dinn'r-time, do',
ev'ything uz reddy down dere by de spring, en de
horn blow'd. Lord ! Lord ! how dem nigg'rs did eat
en eat ! Look ter me like sum er 'em would kill dey-
sevs. Hog meat, biscuits f um de kitch'n, buttermick,
chick'n, gingerbread, en corn beer uz es thick es cot-
ton in de patch, en hit were er hol'day sho' nuff.
" Well, sah, right den and dere I seed sum'n' w'at
'stonish me. Heah cum erlong er soger, en wark
right up to de house, en w'en Ole Miss cum out on de
po^ch hit would er make yer cry ter seen 'em. He uz
well-nigh barefooted, en his clo'es uz rags. He uz dat
''OLE MISS" AND ''SWEETHEART." 125
white too dat you 'cl er said he uz er clayeat'r, en es 'e
stood dere 'e put es han^ on de rail ter steddy hisse'f.
He warn't no bad-look'n' man nnther, jes' 'bout yo'
size en buil', en de same forehead en curly hair, en er
way er hold'n' up es he'd make me t'ink 'bout 'im fus'
time I laid eyes on yer.
" ^ Madum/ he said, sof like, er-tak'n' off es hat, ' I
am er-makin' my way back ter New Orlyans, en am
mighty nigh starv'd fur de want uv sum'n' ter eat. T
mus' ask yer ter he'p me, en tek de chances er gittin'
paid w'en de war is ov'r, 'cause I aint got no munny
now.' Dat uz w'at 'e sed, en, bless yo' soul! 'e sed
hit like 'e uz fresh from er ballroom, instid uv de
hospit'l which 'e wuz, wid es arm gone, en so weak 'e
could n' stan' steddy. But you oughter seen Ole Miss.
She stretch out 'er arm en draws 'im up ter 'er like 'e
wuz 'er son, er-sayin', ' God dun sont you hyah, my
boy. I sees hit now. You is my gues', God-sent.'
Den she took 'im in de house, en made 'im set down
by de big table, en de f us' sing she did uz ter sen' me
down in de cellar ter git er bottle er wine. Dere
wuz n' but five lef, 'cause she done car'd de balunce
ter Macon fur de sick sogers long ergo. Dey say hit
uz made de year de stars fell, mighty nigh 'bout forty
years befo'. Well, sah, she po'd out sum fur dat boy,
en he did n' look like nuthin' but er boy, en 'e stood
up lean'n' 'g'inst de table en drink ter es country, 'e
ses, en es country's wimmiu, jes' like 'e wuz at er
126 ''OLE MISS" AND " SWEETRJSABT."
party. But she made 'im set down, en fetcli'd ^im
sum dinner wid 'er own han's. En w'en she got dun
dere uz ernuff fur ennybody. Well, sah, de po' man
took sum barbecue on es fork en lif' et up two times
ter es mouf, en den put et back wid es han' er-shak'n',
en w'en Ole Miss ax 'im w'at de matter, he cov'r es
face wid es han' en shake all ov'r, er-sayin' 'e dat
hungry 'e could n' eat: dat 'e hed been tu'ned fum do'
ter do' tell he uz 'mos' reddy ter give et up. But
bime-by 'e get so 'e can eat, en den Ole Miss tek 'im
upstairs en give 'im er room en sum ov Marse Frank's
clo's, en er pa'r boots en er nice cap. She look at dat
cap er long time, en kiss hit, 'cause hit uz de cap 'e
had on w'en he uz kilt. But she put et on de soger's
he'd herse'f , en give 'im sum munny too, en sont down
ter de pasture en ketch Marse Frank's hoss, which
wuz Beauregard, en put Marse Frank's saddle on em
too, 'cause de gem man say 'e 'bliged ter go on. Wen
^e cum down, you would n't er know'd 'im. He wuz
like er new man, but mighty weak. When he kiss
Ole Miss han' he lef es tears dere. But Ole Miss, wid
'er han' on es shoulder, ses, ' In God's name I bid you
farewell.' En 'e sed ef de pra'rs uv er wife en mud-
d'r en hisself, en de love uv er baby boy, uz good,
she 'd git 'er pay. But Ole Miss dun up en say de
Lord dun settl' wid 'er already, en I know'd w'at she
wuz er-tarkin' erbout. Den 'e ride off, en out yonner
he tu'n en take off es cap fur de las' time. He wuz
''OLE MISS" AND ''SWEETHEARTS 127
ter wi'ite back ef 'e got dere safe, but nobody ain'
byard fum 'im, en ev'ybody sed 'e mus' er died erlong
de way. But he did n'."
^^ And what became of the family ? ''
"Well, sah, de war cumm'd down hyah, en dey
refugeed erway off yander ter fus' one place en den
ernuther. En de house got bu'nt, en all de stock uz
run off. Den Ole Miss died sumw'ere, en uz sont
back hyah, en Miss Carrie went back ter 'er folks, dey
say ; en all uv 'em uz dun got so po' dey could n' do
nuth'n' fer we all. One day Miss Carrie sont me er
letter ter say I mus' n' let Ole Miss' grave get los', en
I ain't. Fus' I sot up a board out dere on de bury'n'-
groun' ; en den I scrape er little munny fum de tuck-
ies en gyard'n en er cotton patch, en had er man ter
put down dat slab.'^
" It must have taken considerable."
" Hit did ] but not so much es ef I had n't er had de
stone already." She shifted herself uneasily in her
chair, and looked down as she explained. "You see,
Ole Cun'l Bill Cass'l uz buried up yonner too, wid er
fine slab ov'r him, en 'e uz de meanes' white man you
ever seed w'en 'e uz livin', so I thought Ole Miss
bett'r have dat stone en let 'im do 'thout fer er while ;
en we jes' tu'ned hit ov'r en did de cuttin' en polishin'
on tuth'r side. But hit ain' fixed jes' right. None uv
us could n' 'call de time w'en she uz born'd 'zactly, or
w'en she died, en Miss Carrie dun gone off ergin ter
128 ''OLE MISS" AND ''SWEETHEART."
er new place. I know'd she uz born^d uv er Sunday,
en died uv er Sunday, but hit 's er long time ergo.
So I jes' tole 'em ter put ' Ole Miss' on et. En I ses
ter myse'f, ef Miss Carrie ev'r got back hyah, es she
will ef she live, en we all dun gone, 't ain't goin' ter be
no troubl' ter find de place. But she nev'r cum back.
She died putty soon atter dat ov'r yonner at er unci'
"Wuthin'ton, in Bald'in County. But de baby cum,
bless yo' soul ! en he cum too, dat baby boy fum er-
way out yonner in New Orlyans. It 's cureyus how
pra'rs wuk out. I uz er-sett'n' hyah jes' dis way 'bout
er ye'r ergo, w'en all er sudd'n er fine young gemman
en er young lady dash up on horseback en stop right
dere w'ere you es er-sett'n'. De minit I look in dere
faces I hyard sum'in' er-callin' ter me erway back
yonner, en ev'rything sorter swim, en w'en she up en
ses, ^ Aunty, kin you tell me w'ere de Cass'l place es ? '
I cried out, ' Hyar hit es, en bless God hyar 's er
Cass'l dun cum back ! Sweetheart ! Sweetheart ! ' I
sed, wid de tears er-runnin', ^ Sweetheart ! '
" ^ Yes,' she sed, en den I gather'd 'er roun' de
knees. De tears uz er-stan'in' en 'er eyes too. ^ This
mus' be mammy,' she 'lowed, ' that po' mamma used
ter talk so much erbout.' En she jumped down dere
en I had 'er in dese ole arms wunst mo'. Den she laf
er littl' en say, p'intin' ter de gemman, ^ Now does yer
know Mm f ' I tuk one look at 'im en hit seem ter
me like 'e dun cum out er de ole times too. All uv er
"OLE MISS" AND ''SWEETHEART." 129
sndd'n 'e up eu say^ '■ Does you 'member de po' soger
w'at rode ole Beauregard away ? ' '• Yes, sah/ ses I,
' jes' like hit uz yestiddy. De las' sing 'e said wuz,
^^ Ef de pra'rs uv er wife en mudd'r en hisse'f, en de
love uv er baby boy, uz good, she 'd git paid." ' Wid
dat [de young gemman lif off his hat en say, ' De
pra'rs uv er fath'r en mudd'r, en de love uv de baby
boy, has been blessed ] speshully de love uv de baby
boy.'
'^ Dey tole me then dat Sweetheart had been off ter
school all 'er life mos', en de fus' time she went up
yonner ter de Ferginny Springs dey 'd met, en dat uz
ernuff. Ennybody could er seed dey uz cut out fer
one ernuther. Dey es er-cumm'n' back sum day ter
buir up de ole home ergin, but hit all won't nev'r
b'long ter de Cass'ls ergin." The old woman laughed
softly. "No, sah. ^ Mammy' owns er hundred en
fifty uv de bes' Ian' hyah, en hit 's bin hers ev'r since
de day de babies cum back."
So ran the way-side tale. When I bade the homely
souls good-bye, and strode out to the railroad, I
passed once more the old burial-ground, now bound
with a new interest. The tall Lombardies, towering
fifty feet above me, their limbs growing straight up,
stood as motionless in the evening calm as monu-
ments. There is not in nature a more placid tree. It
never tosses its arms in the breeze, nor is lashed by
130 '' OLE MISS" AND ''SWEETHEART."
the storm. The oak is often worked into rage, but
the Lombardy bends its far-away crest in melancholy
acquiescence to a superior power, and its leaves but
twinkle peacefully. So stood they there in their still
and solemn watch. And under them nestled the
grave with its simple legend, "Old Miss."
SISTER TODHUNTER'S HEART.
I.
■^^HERE was an unusual excitement
in Sweetwater. The new preacher,
a young man of fine parts, accom-
panied by his wife, had arrived a
few days before, delivered a most
effective sermon, and had been called upon with the
promptness common to country communities where
isolation renders local curiosity unbearable after
twenty-four hours. The lady of the parsonage,
whose husband was but lately a theological student
and now engaged for the first time upon regular pas-
toral labors, came from the city, and dressed in a
manner that was bound to win her the admiration or
the hatred of half the village. Already that grand,
interchangeable jury common to all communities was
sitting upon her case. The term is used in a figura-
tive sense, for the inquest was conducted from yard
to yard, window to window, and even across the
one street along which Sweetwater was congregated.
131
132 SISTER TODHUNTER'S HEART.
Yf herever two or three were gathered together and
two of the three happened to be of the cradle-rocking
order of society, Parson Riley's wife was the theme.
The climax was reached in the case when Parson
Riley's wife sent out modest little notes inviting
about twenty matrons to take tea with her the next
day. Then the jury let the main question pass while
it resolved itself into committees of one, each of
which began with almost frantic anxiety to look into
the question of dress. Adaptation became the order
of the day, for no time remained for new garments,
even if Sweetwater could have furnished them.
Twenty ladies drew out from their hiding-places
twenty bonnets of varied shapes, ages, and designs ;
twenty ladies shook to the breeze the camphored folds
of twenty bombazines, alpacas, and venerable silks;
and twenty pairs of hands went to work with needles,
thread, hot irons, stain-eradicators, and all the house-
hold help that could be mustered, to turn the water
of ancient respectability into the wine of modern
style as outlined in stray magazines and described by
the occasional town visitor.
So it was, then, that when Sweetwater, as very
properly represented by its leading ladies, assembled
in Parson Riley's modest little parlor and gazed upon
itself in all its glory, a somewhat satisfied air settled
over it. Poor, faded little Mrs. Brown, in her dingy
alpaca, which everybody knew she bought nine years
,'e Sec c c c^ :• f 'c '
The terms were not liberal for Colonel Todhunter."
(Page 154.)
SISTEB TODRUNTEB'S HEART. 133
before with money awarded her at the county f ah' for
preserves and pickles, and had turned and re-turned
until it was equally worn all over, smiled placidly
upon Mrs. Bailey's watered silk that she wore when
she was a bride, and upon the bombazine gown that
Mrs. Buckner inherited from her mother, and felt
thoroughly comfortable. And Mrs. Buckner's little
straw bonnet, that had been in fashion twice in the
fifteen years of its service, rested easy upon her own
artificial knot of hair when she beheld Mrs. Culpep-
per^s Leghorn flare-front head-gear, and noted the
cork-screw iron-gray curls pinned around the severe
brow of Colonel Ledbetter^s wife just as they had
been on state occasions for twenty years.
This feeling of comfort was greatly strengthened
by the fact that Parson Riley's wife wore a plain
dark close-fitting gown of some flexible material with-
out ornamentation, and that her hair was brushed
back without any attempt at the fashionable arrange-
ments they feared would crush them. Then the little
lady moved about among them with her sweetest
smiles, and the nicest tea, and a little notice for each
of her guests. She had observed what an " elegant
young woman " was Mrs. Buckner's Samanthy, just
back from Wesleyan College in Macon; and Mrs.
Brown's son Tom was " handsome enough to be gov-
ernor." As for Mrs. Culpepper's baby, why, it was
" just too lovely for anything." She captured a very
134 SISTER TODHUNTEB'S HEART.
large-hearted woman entirely when she whispered to
Mrs. Bailey that her husband was the finest-looking
man she had seen in Sweetwater, — " excepting my
Phil, yon know," she added. And this loyalty only
sank the compliment deeper. Then she hurried off
for a pencil, and begged Mrs. Colonel Ledbetter to
give her her recipe for making the scuppernong wine
she had heard so much praised, and she laid her book
in the dear old lady's lap and wrote it as dictated. In
an hour Parson Riley's wife was by unanimous con-
sent established at the head of Sweetwater, and could
afford to take the company in to see her lace curtains,
baby and baby dresses, and all the little bric-a-brac
that had been showered upon her as a bride, — with-
out awakening a single jealous feeling.
But a storm was brewing, and its first mutterings
were heard when Mrs. Culpepper thoughtlessly men-
tioned " Sister Todhunter."
" Sister Todhunter ? " said Parson Riley's wife,
looking from one to the other, a puzzled expression
shadowing her pretty face ; ^^ have I met Sister Tod-
hunter? Dear me, can I have made a mistake after
all ? " She had tried so hard to please everybody, and
here was trouble at the first move.
"No, my dear," said Mrs. Culpepper promptly ; "it
was I who made the mistake." But poor Mrs. Riley
noted the ominous look upon the faces of several and
the glances they exchanged.
SISTER TODRUNTEB'S HEART. 135
" I am sure," she said earnestly, " I would have
been glad to have had Sister Todhunter if I had
known in time. Does she live in the village ? "
'^ No, dear," said Mrs. Colonel Ledbetter ; " she is
a disagreeable old thing who lives out on her farm
about a mile from here. You have n't lost anything
by not knowing her." Mrs. Ledbetter was a power
in the land, and her iron-gray curls shook in a dan-
gerous and threatening manner as she declared her-
self. " She is sometimes pleasant, to be sure, but if
it was n't for her husband, poor man, who married
her out of pity, although she was only a ^cracker'
and he a man of education and standing, she would
n't be noticed."
" I think," said poor faded little Mrs. Brown meekly,
^' that Sister Todhunter has a good heart, and I 'm
sure she always treated me kindly."
^' And who would n't ? " interposed Mrs. Culpepper,
laughing. '^ You see some good in everybody, Sallie,
and everybody sees some in you. But as for Sister
Todhunter, she is better at long range."
Presently there was a movement among the ladies,
and soon Parson Riley's wife, the recipient of twenty
kisses and as many warm handshakes, was left alone
mth her empty cups and the memory of Sister Tod-
hunter.
II.
"When Parson Riley heard the description of his
wife's tea-party from her own lips, told with many a
smile and an occasional sigh, his first resolution was
to call upon Colonel Todhunter and his wife. So it
was that early next morning he saddled his patient
mare and ambled out to the Todhnnter farm.
As Parson Riley approached the little cottage, he
saw sitting on the steps a man with his chin in his
hands. The first thing that impressed him was the
air of extreme dejection abont the individual, an air
that became more marked after he had dismounted
and advanced toward the house. Rousing himself
from his reveries, the individual rose slowly and fixed
a pair of tired, watery blue eyes upon the parson.
The clothes he wore were broadcloth, but they were
faded now, and stained down the front with tobacco
juice ; and they shone with a polish evidently acquired,
like good manners, through long wear.
^^This is Colonel Todhunter, I believe," said the
visitor, holding out his hand. " I am the Rev. Mr.
Riley.'' The gentleman in the polished suit held the
proffered hand as he replied, in a singularly low and
sweet voice :
136
SISTER TODHVNTER'S HEART. 137
" You 're the new parson, I reckon. You will have
to speak louder j I am a little deef ."
^^ Yes," said the parson, elevating his voice. " How
is your family ? "
'^What did you say?" inquired the low, musical
voice, while the blue eyes brightened a little.
" How is your family ? "
" Oh, very well, I believe. Come in and set down."
He led the way slowly, with a slight limp, toward the
little porch. As they ascended the steps Parson Riley
caught sight of the figure of an enormous woman in
a calico dress and a white apron, that loomed up in
the doorway. She carried in her hand a broom ; and
a broad, square, almost fierce face with small black
eyes was turned upon him.
" 'Mandy," said the colonel gently, " this is the new
parson." " The new parson " stepped forward quickly
and extended his hand.
'' My dear madam, I am glad to meet you," he said,
a smile kindling on his handsome face. She looked
at him suspiciously, gave him her left hand, and
said:
"Howdye!"
" I hope you are well, madam ? "
^' Toler'ble," she replied. And then she turned her
back and moved off with an elephantine amble.
" So this is Sister Todhunter," thought Parson
Riley. " Well, I shall have trouble here."
138 SISTER TOBHUNTEB'S HEAMT.
The men sat down, and the conversation began.
Colonel Todhnnter proved to be courtly, almost
womanly, in bis manners, but bis few opinions were
ventured with a diffidence most painful,, and the par-
son was glad when the time came to say good-day.
He was about to mount bis mare again when tbe
colonel, wbo bad followed bim out, touched bis
arm.
" I want to speak to you on a private matter,^' be
said softly. *^ Suppose we walk a little.'^ So arm
and arm they moved off. "I want to speak about
Mrs. Todhunter," said the gentle voice again. '^ To
tell you the truth. Parson, I am leading a life here
that is almost unbearable, and I think you can help
me.
^'Mrs. Todhunter is a violent woman, Parson, — I
use the term advisedly 5 she is a violent woman, and
unless I can bring about a marked change in her
character, I do not know what I shall do. She uses
language toward me that is altogether unchristian-
like and unbecoming. And worse ) when she gets
one of her speUs upon her, she assaults me with
anything nearest at hand. Only this morning I
received several blows from her broom that have
nearly lamed me. Parson," — they had reached the
friendly shelter of the barn by this time, and the
colonel straightened up a little, while his eyes act-
ually glittered, — " I am tired of this dog^s life, and I
SISTEE TODHUNTEB'S HEART. 139
want your assistance. I think if Mrs. Todliunter is
formally reported to the church, and humiliated, it
will bring about a change.'' Parson Riley's face
showed his surprise, and the colonel added at once,
^'I have had this in mind a long time, and once I
brought the matter to the mind of Parson Thompson,
who preceded you, — a worthy man, but timid. He
would not move in the matter. Now, will you?"
Parson Riley was young and combative.
" I will," he said promptly.
" What ? " The deaf man placed his hand to his
ear.
'^ I will," shouted the parson. " Sister Todhunter
shall be disciplined." The colonel looked pleased.
'' I was a church-member myself once," he said
softly, ^^but this eternal quarrel drove me out. I
could not break bread feeling as I do toward Mrs.
Todhunter." His chin trembled. He filled his cheeks
with wind and blew it out under the pressure of his
emotion. ^'You cannot imagine to what an extent
this persecution has gone. Why, sir, there have
been times when I considered my life in danger. I
am not a dissipated man," he continued, resting his
blue-veined hand upon the parson's shoulder and
turning the blue eyes earnestly upon him, "but of
course I take a julep now and then, — you under-
stand; habits of an old-time Georgia gentleman, —
and sometimes I have taken too much. I admit that
140 SISTER TODRUNTEB'S HEART.
Mrs. Todhunter has had some provocation in that
direction, but not enough, Parson, to justify her in
regarding me as a dog." His breast heaved con-
vulsively.
^' A woman/' said the young man firmly, touched
by the pathos and emotion of his dignified companion,
"has no right to strike her husband except in the
defense of her life."
" Hey ! " Colonel Todhunter cupped his left ear
deftly with the transparent hand.
" I say a woman has no right to strike her hus-
band ''
"Why, bless your soul, parson, that 's a small
matter, a very small matter indeed!" A sad smile
flitted across the lips of the speaker. "A very small
matter." He fixed his eyes upon his companion
with a sudden resolution. "Why, do you know,
Mrs. Todhunter came near smothering me, only last
week?"
"Smothering?"
"Hey?"
" Came near smothering you?''
" Yes, sir. To tell the truth. Parson, I was a little
mixed — had taken a little too much, you understand.
Had been camping out a week down at Bloomley's
mill with Colonel Ledbetter and others, fishing, and
drank a little too much. Unfortunat'ly I came home
a little under the influence of stimulants, and found
^4 ,,,
s^f^
That 's a small matter.
SISTEB TODRUNTEE'S HEART. 141
Mrs. Todhunter on fire about the cotton being in the
grass. As I was preparing to lie down, being also
ill, Mrs. Todhunter, with her superior strength and
weight, forced me between the mattresses and sat
down on me. And there she sat, Parson, three hun-
dred pounds, and it a July day, and knitted all the
afternoon. * I ^11 sweat that whisky out er you,^ she
says J and she did. The perspiration that exuded
from my pores soaked through the mattress and
dripped on the floor. I do not know how I lived
through it.'^ He drew out his handkerchief and wiped
his forehead, to which the memory of his sufferings
had actually brought the moisture. " When wiU you
move in the matter ? " he asked more cheerfully.
^' At once."
'^Hey?"
^' At once. I '11 have her up next Sunday "
Parson Riley paused. The vast presence of Sister
Todhunter had passed around the corner of the barn.
There was a painful silence of about two seconds, and
then her voice arose.
" So," she said loudly, with her eye on the colonel,
who started as though shot, ^' so ! This is your game,
is it ? tellin' lies on your wife to every stranger that
comes along. I'll teach you better manners, if I
have to break every bone in yer soft, cowardly body."
She made a rush at her offending lord, which he
easily and promptly avoided by stepping briskly
142 SISTER TODHUNTEB'S HEART.
away, leaving his late companion to hold the field as
best he might.
^^ Madam," said Parson Riley, raising his hand as if
about to ask a benediction, — it was his most impress-
ive attitude, — ^'I beseech you to remember that this
gentleman is your husband and that you are a mem-
ber of my church "
^^What have you got to do with hit, you little
chick'n-eatin' thing you?" She had turned upon
him with war in her eye and war in her whole make-
up generally. " A pretty sort er parson you air, ain't
yer, hangin' roun' decent women's houses list'nin' ter
lies an' slanders. Oh, I know what he wants; he
wants ter git me up 'fore Moun' Zion Church. He
tried hit on ole Thompson, but he daresn't move er
peg. I tole him, an' I tell you, ef they have me up
'fore Moun' Zion, hit '11 be er bad day fur Moun' Zion."
She shook her clinched fist at him.
Parson Riley was half Irish, a little Welsh, and the
rest American. Besides, he was young and inexpe-
rienced.
^' Your case will be up next Sunday morning. You
can come or not, as you please." He said this with a
somewhat unclerical but very natural emphasis, and,
turning on his heels, left the spot. The last words
he heard were, " I ain't 'feard o' you ner all the Moun'
Zions in the world."
As Parson Riley mounted his mare, Colonel Tod-
SISTER TODRUNTER'S HEART. 143
hunter crawled through the hedge a few yards off,
looked cautiously around, secured his pipe from the
porch, and went back silently the way he came. A
smile forced itseK upon the lips of the young preacher,
and a little farther down the road he laughed out-
riffht.
in.
Sunday morning brought an enormous crowd to
Mount Zion Cliurchj as the village edifice was called.
This was natural, as on that day the Presiding Elder
was to deliver a sermon, and a visit from the Presid-
ing Elder of the district always drew a crowd. But
the fact noised about throughout the land, that Sister
Todhunter had been summoned and was to be tried,
also operated powerfully as an assembling factor, and
many people who had long neglected their church
duties put in an appearance. Farmers for miles
around came bringing their wives and daughters in
their wagons. Young men in buggies with their
sweethearts were numerous, and the grove about the
church was full of vehicles and " tied-out stock" when
service time arrived.
About 10 o'clock a sudden movement around the
doorway indicated that preaching was about to begin,
and the congregation filed slowly within, the men to
the left, the women to the right. Parson Riley, sit-
ting in the pulpit with the portly form of Elder
Hamlin beside him, watched with an abiding interest
the faces of the comers. When the last was in and
settled, he heaved a deep sigh of relief, — Sister Tod-
SISTER TODHUNTER'S HEART. I45
hunter was not present ; she was going to remain at
home and let the trial go by default.
He did not know Sister Todhunter !
Elder Hamlin at last arose, his red countenance
glowing like a beacon above the sea of faces, and in a
voice like a trumpet's opened the meeting with prayer.
He asked Divine blessing upon Mount Zion, Sweet-
water, and the remainder of the world, invoking a
helping hand for ''the b-r-r-r-a-v-e young soldier of
the cross'' who had '' come among these people to bat-
tle for the right," and upon " the young woman, just
buddin' into matoority," who had ''come to share his
trials and minister with him." His prayer concluded
with an appeal in behalf of the erring sister whose
wrong-doings they were about to consider.
" May she be led to see the error of her way/' he
said, "an' turn her feet into the strait an' narrow
path." And he thanked the Lord for the assurance
given in those lines which declare that
" while the lamp holds out to bum
The viles' sinner may return."
Elder Hamlin ceased, and amid the shuffling of feet
that followed the deep " Amen " which rolled from the
prompt " Amen corner " back into the dilatory recess
beyond the last post, the congregation resumed their
seats. Then Parson Riley stepped forward, and in
146 SISTER TODRUNTEB'S HEART.
the clear debating-society tones his wife loved so well,
read the opening hymn :
*' From Greenland's icy mountains,
From India's coral strand."
Elder Bnckner stood up in advance of the congre-
gation and raised the tune in a strong baritone that
at once sprang out boldly and challenged the whole
assembly. He was instantly pursued and overtaken
by Mrs. Culpepper's soprano; and Mrs. Buckner's
sweet contralto soon found an entering place. After
her came the deep bumble-bee bass of Colonel Led-
better, who adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses as he
came in. This was the customary opening. No one
in Sweetwater would have dreamed of invading the
melody with any sort of a voice until Elder Buckner,
Mrs. Culpepper, Mrs. Buckner, and Colonel Ledbet-
ter had obtained a fair start. Any one so imprudent
would have drawn the attention of the whole congre-
gation upon himself. But, the quartette well under
way, everybody was at liberty to rush in ; and so on
this occasion, soon, borne aloft by the united voices
of the entire congregation, the grand old melody
sailed out and swept far away down the pine aisles
into the peaceful Sabbath heart of the woodlands.
The last tone died away — as usual it was the deep
hum of Colonel Ledbetter's bass, which refused to be
quieted for a while. Then the congregation sank
SISTEB TODHUNTEE'S HEART. 147
into their seats, and Elder Hamlin stood np and de-
livered a powerful sermon upon the wife and her true
position.
Then came the long-looked-for moment.
Parson Riley had descended from the pulpit to
state the business of the hour, which every one
awaited with feverish impatience, when a form filled
the doorway, and Sister Todhunter, in holiday attire
of red silk, black lace, and a great flower-ladened
flare-front bonnet, stood before him. As by instinct
everybody knew she was there, and every head save
one was turned toward her. She paused long enough
to survey the crowd contemptuously, then, with a
great waddle, she marched up the aisle, took a chair
out from under little Major Brown almost before he
could vacate it, placed its back against the pulpit,
and sat down.
" Now," she said, looking at Parson Riley, while
she adjusted the folds of her dress, '^ go on with yer
lies J I'm ready." Parson Riley turned pale, and
then red. Some of the thoughtless young people
snickered, and there was a general stir of expecta-
tion. Colonel Ledbetter, without unbending a par-
ticle of his enormous and ever-blooming dignity,
looked at Major Brown and winked with both eyes.
Brown put his hand over his mouth and coughed
violently. But the parson soon rallied, and, turning
to the congregation, said firmly :
148 SISTEB TODHUNTEE'S EEABT.
^' Brothers and sisters, for such you are in the holy
union of the church, and I trust soon to say in the
affection born of joint and self-sacrificing labors, I
have a painful duty to perform this morning, one
that I fain -would avoid, but "
'^ Oh, shucks, say what yer got ter say and don't
palaver so much." This, of course, came from Sis-
ter Todhunter. He paused a second for the new
sensation to subside, and without looking at her he
continued :
" It is a duty, and of such there can be no avoid-
ance without guilt."
^' Very pretty. Be'n all the week er-learnin' hit ? "
" I am called upon to present to you this morning
an erring sister,'' he continued, linking his hands
together and bowing them before him palms down-
ward while he rocked back upon his heels and
brought his toes to the ground again, ''who, not
satisfied with violating at home the proprieties of
the domestic circle and the commands and precepts
of the Scriptures, has come into the house of the
Lord defiant and rebellious, ^vith sneers upon her lips
and contempt for His minister and His people in her
heart. The evidence of this latter is before you -, of
the former, her husband, a gentleman whom you all
know, will speak."
Colonel Todhunter was sitting on the front seat at
the elbow of Parson Riley^ his chin upon his shirt-
SISTER TODRUNTEB'S HEART. 149
front, and deep dejection written in every line of his
face. There was also a pallor there. He was proba-
bly the only person in the church who had not seen
or heard his wife enter. The parson was forced to
rouse him with a touch.
" Get up, Colonel,'^ he said, " and state your case."
" Hey 1 " The parson motioned to a spot in front
and then to the sea of expectant faces turned toward
him. He understood, and sidled along with his
white face to the crowd, his blue eyes searching
every bench, until he reached the place indicated ;
then he folded his poor white hands together and
drew a long breath of relief : Sister Todhunter
was not in sight. He opened his mouth to speak,
when an event occurred that threw the crowd pres-
ent into the most intense excitement. In moving
to the front Colonel Todhunter came within four
or five feet of his wife, to whom his back was half
turned. He had just satisfied himself that he was
secure, and had said ^^I," when Sister Todhunter
leaned forward, extended her crooked handled um-
brella its full length, deftly hooked it in the collar of
her husband's coat, and with one jerk landed him
backward and head-first into her lap. So sudden
was the act, so utterly unexpected, that everybody
for an instant paused and gazed in open-mouthed
astonishment. Then those in the rear tumbled over
each other for better positions, and big Elder Hamlin
150 SISTEB TODHUNTEB'S HEART.
rushed to the colonePs assistance. The angry woman
met the rescuer with such energy that his alarmed
neighbors were compelled to lead him outside and
pour water on his head.
In the mean time Major Brown, Colonel Ledbetter,
Elder Buckner, Mr. Culpepper, and others were strug-
gling to release Colonel Todhunter, whose convulsive
play of legs and awful expression of face indicated
approaching dissolution. The united strength of six
men was suf6.cient at last to effect this, and the
colonel, all breathless, arose.
" Are you hurt much. Colonel ? " shouted good Mrs.
Buckner, who had crowded to the front. With one
hand on his head and the other struggling for his hand-
kerchief, which was in the wrong coat-tail pocket, and
with tears rolling down his cheeks, he replied softly :
^' I had only a little hair left, gray hair, madam j
I fear she has pulled that out, too."
The hubbub was indescribable, and everybody was
crowding to the front. Parson Riley waved them
back.
" Sit down," he shouted. ^^ We can't do anything
so long as you stand up ! " All dropped back into
their seats, except about a dozen of the most trust-
worthy and dignified churchmen around the refrac-
tory sister, who with a strong grip on the edge of her
chair was holding her position, while she talked to the
men nearest her.
SISTEB TODHUNTEB'S HEABT. 151
" You think yerself mighty smart, don't yer ? " she
said, catching Parson Riley's eye. " An' yer wife —
my ! ain't she stuck up, with her lace curtains an' tea-
parties ! Too proud ter invite 7ne, but not too proud
ter invite old Jane Gramby, whose boy stole a mule."
There was a shriek in the audience, and Mr. Gramby,
standing near, hurried to his wife.
^^ An' there 's Tom Culpepper. He h er pretty nice
one to be settin' hisse'f up fur er church-cleaner. I
saw him pass my house so drunk las' week he did n't
know if he was goin' home er comin' back." Again
the thoughtless giggled. Tom Culpepper's habits
were certainly unfortunate.
" An' there 's Brother Spikes. He 's er good han'
ter weed out er church, ain't he ? An' his cotton in
the grass so bad that yer can't see hit from the road."
Again a subdued applause from the great audience.
" This is simply outrageous," said Brother Spikes to
Mr. John Edgerly hotly ; ^^ that woman ought to be
ducked."
" Ought she, indeed ! " said Sister Todhunter,
catching the remark. '' Then you better git John
Edgerly ter help you. His gra'ma was ducked for
tattlin', en I reckon he '11 know how ter go about hit."
This terrible dig drew all eyes upon Edgerly, and he
turned as red as a turkey-comb.
" Madam," said Colonel Ledbetter, advancing to a
prominent position in all the dignity and confidence
152 SISTER TODRUNTEB'S HEART.
of his high standing in Sweetwater, " I trust you will
let your old friend advise you."
" When did you come to be my old friend ? " she
replied with terrible sarcasm. ^'Was hit when yer
charged me twelve per cent, for the loan of er hundred
dollars, or was hit when you made me pay for er
hundred bushels of corn because my mule et five ? "
Taking his hat and cane, the colonel walked outside
and sat down on a stump.
^' Gentlemen," said Parson Riley suddenly, seeing
his force rapidly falling away, ^^ the only thing to do
is to carry her out and send her home. If you will
all take hold we can carry her out quickly." The men
were ready for any escape from the merciless lashing
the woman was giving them. With a rush they seized
her, chair and all, she fighting desperately, and bore
her outside. After a brief rest, during which the as-
saulting party repaired damages, they lifted her again
and made for the wagon. The rail fence furnished
her a hold when they tried to lift her over, and it be-
came necessary to take it down. Then another fierce
struggle ensued at the wagon. Finding herself over-
matched. Sister Todhunter gave vent to a shriU
scream that brought Colonel Todhunter to her side in
repentance and alarm. He attempted to soothe her,
but she was no sooner lifted into the wagon than she
kicked the dash-board off and seized him by the ear.
It took the efforts of the crowd again to release him.
''Elder Hamlin overboard."
SISTEB TODRUNTER'S MEABT. I53
Elder Hamlin, who had recovered his wind and ral-
lied, here climbed into the wagon with the others to
help hold her, while the rest hitched up her mules.
Then, led by Billy, her ten-year-old son, who had
watched the proceedings in sullen silence, the strange
load moved off, a delegation accompanying it to keep
things straight. As they crossed the creek, Sister
Todhunter by a sudden movement managed to throw
Elder Hamlin overboard. He stood up in the water
and swore a great round oath that horrified every-
body. But Sister Todhunter laughed hysterically.
" Put him out, put him out er Moun^ Zion too !
Don't yer hear him er cussin' back there'?" Elder
Hamlin had retired to the bank, and was denouncing
the whole race of obstreperous women, but not swear-
ing. His one oath was confessed in open meeting
afterward, and willingly forgiven.
This, however, was Sister Todhunter^s last effort.
She was seized with a collapse on reaching home, and
begged to be placed on the grass. There sitting, she
declared that death was near, and begged them to
leave her. Her husband came up and ministered to
her, and she was heard to ask Billy to lead her to the
well, as she wanted to jump in and end her misery ;
and Billy told her he wished she would. Then the
committee returned. It transpired afterward that Sis-
ter Todhunter rallied enough to go into the house,
and, in a sudden return of her passion, slammed
11
154 SISTER TODEUNTEB'S HEART.
the door on the neck of Colonel Todhunter, who
incautiously looked in, and held him a prisoner until
a mutual understanding was effected. As may be
well understood, the terms were not liberal for
Colonel Todhunter.
IV.
Of course Sister Todhunter was summarily expelled
from the church. The affair furnished Sweetwater
with a sensation for several weeks, but by and by it
grew to be an old topic, and Sister Todhunter could
venture into town upon her shopping without attract-
ing universal attention and comment. She was a
cash customer, a fact that helped wonderfully to gain
her defenders, and, besides, many people regarded
her as victorious in the church fight, and enjoyed the
way she laid about her. But there was no friendship
between the female side of Sweetwater and Sister
Todhunter. She had talked too plainly.
Reader, did you ever see a baby fade away with-
out apparent cause, baffling the oldest physicians and
wringing the very life from its mother, hour by hour,
day by day ? — watch its poor little face grow old and
pinched, and its great eyes grow brighter until they
seemed to burn like candle-flames in the empty sock-
ets? So faded the little babe that nestled in the
depths of its soft nest when the parson's wife showed
1.-5
156 SISTER TODRUNTEB'S HEART.
the assembled matrons of Sweetwater her laces and
curtains in the shadowed room back of the parlor.
Day by day the mother sat in her low rocker, her
tender eyes npon the wasting form, a fever in her
own brain, and a weight upon her heart that had
driven out every tear-drop and left her powerless to
weep. By day and by night she sat there, bathing
the babe in the dry grief of despair. The little frame
lay bared before her — legs of a thimble^s thickness,
with the skin crumpled upon them, arms that were
the arms of a doll, and hands that scarce checked the
light that fell upon them when the mother lifted
them again and again in her mute despair.
The doctor had yielded up hope : save one or two,
the neighbors, worn out, had withdrawn ; and to-day,
the day of which I write, the mother sat waiting for
the rustle of the angel's wing.
As there she sat, suddenly the doorway was dark-
ened, and Sister Todhunter from the mountain of her
awful presence looked down upon the scene.
^'Why hain't you sent fur me!" she said bluffly.
Parson Riley's wife looked up and then back again.
She did not comprehend that she was addressed.
Sister Todhunter looked at the baby. Then she ran
her hands under it gently and raised it, pillow and all.
'T was but a feather's weight. The mother yielded
meekly, and fastened her eyes anxiously upon the
great rescuer who had arrived.
"I 've seen many er sicker kitten 'n this git well."
SISTER TODHUNTER'S HEART. 157
" Is there any hope ? " she asked humbly.
"Hope?" Sister Todhunter gave her a look of
scorn. " I should say so ! I Ve seen many er sicker
kitten ^n this git well. Go git me some mullein."
''Mullein?"
" Yes, mullein. Don't yer know mullein when you
see hit ! " Parson Riley's wife shook her head sadly.
" I have never seen any/' she said.
^'Well, go an' tell the cook ter bring me some.
Lord, what sorter women will the nex' set be ! Never
seen mullein!" But the mother was gone, and the
lady who had been keeping her company turned up
her nose and silently followed her. The cook had
heard of mullein, fortunately, which grows wild in all
Georgia, and soon appeared with some.
" So," said Sister Todhunter contentedly when she
saw it. "Now go make some strong tea outer hit.
Make hit with milk." The cook hurried away. Every-
body seemed to gain life when Sister Todhunter took
command. The tea soon arrived, and the new nurse
administered a couple of teaspoonfuls.
" He can't' retain anything a moment," said the
mother ; " it is no use to torture him any more."
" Will yer hush ? " Sister Todhunter almost shouted
the question. "Don't yer reck'n I 've seen er sick
baby 'fore now ? "
Parson Riley's wife "hushed" and became a mute
observer. The child retained the food, and presently
158 SISTER TODHUNTEB'S HEART.
Sister Todhunter gave it more. The second time its
eyes were fixed upon the cup, and its little lips were
feebly raised to meet it. It drank half a cupful, then
turned its face on Sister Todhunter's broad knee and
slept. Seeing this, a great hope grew in its mother^s
heart, and peered like an imprisoned spirit through her
anxious eyes. Metaphorically, she began to lean upon
the vast figure by her side, which seemed so confident
and resourceful.
" Lay down," said Sister Todhunter bluntly, look-
ing up into the face fixed so hungrily upon hers.
The young woman's eyes grew wistful and be-
seeching.
"I can't sleep," she said, "and my baby dying."
Sister Todhunter gave her a peculiar look.
"Of all the fools!" she began, then changed her
mind. " Lay down right there on the bed an' watch
me. The baby ain't er-dyin'." And moved by some
strange power the mother obeyed.
The baby slept. One, two, three, four hours passed.
Then it waked. The warm mullein and milk was
ready, and it drank again. Again it slept, and the
mother lying there silently drifted away into dream-
land too, for the first time in many days, and slept
the sleep of exhaustion.
Thus Parson Riley found them in the almost sound-
less twilight, when, hurrying back from the death-
bed of a distant friend who had sent for him, he
SISTER TODHVXTER'S HEART. 159
tiptoed into the room. If he had been confronted
with Beelzebub himseK he could not have been more
astonished. He gazed upon the sleeping wife and
burly nurse, in whose broad lap slumbered the little
one he loved better than life, but whom, as he rode
homeward through the lonely pine-lands, he had
yielded up to its Maker. His face flushed. The
woman raised one hand, swept a glance over the two
sleepers, and then motioned to the door. Parson
Riley bent his head and noiselessly passed out. He
stood among the jasmines at his gate, with his pale
face turned up to the blue sky, which seemed so near
him there, making no sound -, and it seemed to him as
he waited that a mystery was unfurled about him, and
he grew and broadened under its touch.
Still the suns glided by, but the child lived — lived
and grew strong. One day Colonel Todhunter drove
the mules up to the front door and halted them.
Sister Todhunter placed the infant in its mother^s lap
and said :
^'Keep him on mullein and milk a while longer.
He ^s all right now. — Shet up ! " she added, seeing
the mother's eyes fill with tears and her bosom heave ;
" an' if yer need me, sen' down."
" You saved my child," sobbed Parson Riley's wife,
" and I '11 pray for you always."
"Me saved him! That 's er pretty thing fur er
preacher's wife ter say! The Lord did it, chile, —
160 SISTER TODRUNTEB'S HEABT.
the Lord and his muUein tea." She nearly crushed
the life out of Parson Riley in her hurry to get
out.
^^ Madam," he began, seizing one of her hands.
"Shet up!" she replied, snatching it away. He
looked at her beseechingly.
" Won't you let me thank you ? " he said ; " and —
won't you let me say something about that other
matter?"
She laughed. ^' Not now, Parson. I 'm goin' home,
an' the Lord knows how I will find things there, fur
'twixt Billy and Mr. Todhunter the chances fur the'r
goin' wrong is the bes' in the worl'. But, Parson, you
can study on supp'n. When yer go ter turn ernother
woman out er church, don't yer go ter the neigh-
bors fur her character, nor ter her husban', if he
happens ter be a triflin' kind er man; but come
straight to headquarters. Trouble and worry some-
times sorter crusts over er woman's heart, so that
ev'ybody can't see hit. Parson, but hit 's there all the
same." She got upon the block and clambered into
the wagon, where in deafness sat her liege lord.
" Good-bye, Parson," she said, as they drove off. *' I 'm
glad ther baby 's mendin'. Keep him on mullein
tea." The parson lifted his hat.
"God bless you, madam," he said tearfully. He
watched them as they rolled down the lane. The
wheel struck a stump.
SISTER TODHUXTER'S HEART, 161
^' Did anybody ever see sech er man ? " lie heard her
shout. *' Gimme them lines ! " He saw the colonel
rock violently as the reins were wrenched out of
his hands, and then his patient little hairless head
with its broad ears settle down between his shoul-
ders again. Presently a turn in the road hid them
from sight.
"DE VALLEY AN' DE SHADDER."
LOG hut with a stack chimney, at the
foot of a long, low hill where the
path that winds around it disappears
under a great spreading black-gum;
another log hut with a stack chimney,
over by a belt of pine woods ; and another of like
build beyond, where a group of water-oaks marks a
bend in the swamp 5 and others still, right and left in
the distance, until the number runs up into the
dozens — this is Black Ankle. But not all of it.
Yonder are a shed and a corn-crib, and a leaning
stack of fodder, and a blue-stem collard patch, and
snake fences, and vehicles that have stood in the
weather until sunstruck ; a forlorn mule j a cow that
all her life has evidently practiced the precept, " It is
better to give than to receive " ; a stray hen with her
little family under a gorgeous sunflower — this is
Black Ankle.
But hold ! There are little negroes in single gar-
ments that reach to their knees only, and the ten-
162
''DE VALLEY AN' DE SRABDEB." 163
year-old girl bearing in her arms the infant. There
are the clothes fluttering on the knotted lines propped
up by fork saplings. There are black women, with
tucked-np dresses, scrubbing over the wash-tub, and
in the air the marvelously mellow plantation hymn,
and on the ground the shadow of the circling hawk,
and the grasshopper balancing himseK in mid air,
and the dipping mocking-bird on the haw-bush. Ah,
now indeed is this Black Ankle !
The sun had gone down, and the shadows were
creeping out of the swamp, veiling Black Ankle. All
the poverty sign-boards were buried in the gloom,
and where the cabins stood fiery eyes twinkled through
the night. But under the great black-gum, where
the spring gushed, a pine-knot fire blazed merrily,
piling up the shadows and painting in waving
light the cabin front. The little porch, over which
ran the morning-glory and the cypress-vine, stood
forth as though projected by the brush of a mighty
artist. From every direction, by every path, there
came dusky figures, the simple children of the soil,
filling the air with songs and laughter, and passed
into the light. In a chair upon a table, his back
against the black-gum, sat a little wiinkled fiddler
with his battered instrument under his chin, the bow
twisting and sawing. And by his side, drumming on
the strings with a straw, stood a boy, who ever and
anon turned his head to laugh at some gay sally from
164 "i>^ VALLEY AN^ BE SHADDEB»
the company gathered upon the smooth and well-
trodden ground. A favorite dancer exhibited his
skill until breathless, and was turning away amid
the plaudits of the crowd when a young woman
forced her way in, crying :
" Git erway, niggers ; lemme come ! " The crowd
shouted, " Lou, Lou ! '' ^' Lou '11 knock de shine off
er 'im.'^ " You got ter shuffl.' now, Beeswing."
The teeth of the young man who beat with the
straw shone whiter and broader as a short, active
girl broke into the circle. Beeswing grinned.
^' Come back, nigger,'-' she cried. The crowd laughed
again, and as the girl's feet began to keep time with
the music, a dozen hands patted upon as many thighs,
and a voice, to which the chorus replied, added words
to the strains of the fiddle, the dancer adapting her
steps to the hints given :
" Shuffl', littr Lou ; ' ' Pretty littP Lou ;
Pretty littl' Lou ; Come 'long, Lou ;
Same as you ; Pretty littl' Lou ;
Pretty littl' Lou ; Back step, Lou ;
My gal too ; Pretty littl' Lou ;
Pretty littl' Lou ; Pretty littl' Lou ;
For wood too ; Look at Lou! "
The dancer held her dress back and "walked
around,'' turning her toes in, and the crowd laughed.
But the song continued :
' ' Pretty littl' Lou ; ' ' Pretty Httl' Lou ;
Pretty littl' Lou ; Balunce too ;
Cross-step Lou ; Pretty littl' Lou."
"DE VALLEY AN' DE SHADDEE." 165
The girl whirled around amidst a cloud of cotton,
revealing her ankles, and the leader started the laugh
by chiming in, followed by the refrain, again :
''Oom oom oo; '' See yer froo ;
Pretty littl' Lou ; Pretty littP Lou ;
Short dog Lou ; Turkey trot Lou ;
Pretty Uttl' Lou ; Pretty littl' Lou ;
Pidgin wing Lou ; Shuffl', littl' Lou ;
Pretty littl' Lou ; Pretty littl' Lou."
Beeswing broke out of the circle, and the dance
ended amid the shouts of the company.
The tune changed. Old Morris, the fiddler, began
a quaint march, and two by two the dancers prom-
enaded around, the clear voices of the women leading
the song :
" Turn 'er high, turn lady,
Turn lor'.
Turn dat lady Cymlin ;
Turn 'er high, turn lady,
Turn lor'.
Turn dat lady 'roun'."
The men turned their partners with one hand held
overhead, and " the lady " spun until her dress swelled
out like a balloon. Then she bowed and the men
patted quick time, all singing, while their partners
sprang to the center and danced :
" Knock candy, Candy gal ;
Knock candy, Candy gal ;
No harm to knock candy ;
166 ''DE VALLEY AN' DE SHADDEE."
" Littr in de wais' an' pretty in de face ;
No harm to knock candy ;
Two ways to knock Candy gal ;
No harm to knock candy."
Again came the quaint song, " Turn 'er high, turn
lady" J again the slow march, and again the whirl.
This time the men sprang to the center, and old
Morris, sweeping his head to his knee, struck up a
breakdown, to which the women sang :
''You sif' de meal, you gimme de husk;
You bake de bread, you gimme de crus' ;
You bile de pot, you gimme de grease ;
Ole Kate, git over ;
Git over, old Kate ;
Git over ! "
Several verses followed, first the women dancing,
then the men, ever returning to the promenade song.
Dance followed dance, jig, shnffle, song, and refrain,
and the hours glided by. A tiny silver crescent was
the moon, but it had long since sunk behind the hiU.
Old Morris nodded, but his bow kept moving. " Wake
up, old man," shouted a voice as the rout went round.
" Hush yo' mouf, nigger," he answered back. ^' Dis
fiddle knows me, an' hit 'u'd keep er-singin' ef I uz to
go plum ter sleep " ; and the livelier wave in " Sallie
Gooden," which the interruption had stimulated,
faded away into monotony again.
So went the night. But a gaunt spectre stood
unseen on the black bank of shadows piled up be-
''DE VALLEY AX' DE SHADDEB." 167
yond the gumtree. Into these old plantation dances,
harmless once and picturesque, had come, with the
new freedom, a new element. On the porch in the
shadow, where he had rolled over unnoticed, stupid
with drink, lay Ben Thomas, the host. A heavy,
brawny negro, he seemed some fifty years old when
the stirred logs flashed a light upon him. At the far
end of the little porch his young mulatto wife was
tossing small coins in a circle of men, who applauded
when she won and were silent when she lost. Sud-
denly the game ended, the woman empty-handed.
What stirred the sleeper? Who can tell? But
stir he did, then waked, and gazed about him. The
last thi'ow of the coin attracted his attention. He
felt in his pocket ; then letting his feet to the ground
he staggered forward and supported his wavering
form against a post.
*^ Mandy,^^ he said gently, and he seemed to sober as
he spoke, " did you tek my money 1 "
^^ Yes,^' she laughed, '^ I did." Her tones were care-
less and defiant.
"Wharhit, MandyT^
" Whar you reck'n ? "
^^Whar hit, Mandy?" The man's voice was still
calm. Silence had fallen on the group.
" Los\"
" Oh, w'at yer mekin' er fuss erbout er littl' money
fur ? Ain' er man's wife got er right ter hit ef hit 's
168 ''DE VALLEY AN' DE SHADDEB."
his'n?" The speaker was a low-browed, vicious-
looking negro, Mandy's late opponent. Ben did not
notice him, but returned to his query ;
" Who got dat money, Mandy ? '^
The gambler contemptuously threw three silver
quarters into her lap, for she was still sitting.
" Heah, Mandy, I len^ you nuif ter pay 'im. Dern er
man w'at '11 'buse es wife 'fo' folks, an' en 'er own
house." The gambler looked around for indorsement,
but got none. All eyes were upon the husband. He
stooped forward and took the coins, placing them in
his pocket.
"No man kin len' money ter my wife," he said
gently, for the first time addressing the gambler; " an'
hit ain' len'in' w'en money w'at 's stole comes back."
" Who stole hit ? Who stole hit ? " A savage look
gleamed in the gambler's eye.
"Fuss she stole hit," said the husband, "an' den
you stole hit ; fur ter cheat er ooman es des same es
stealin'."
Quick as the spring of a panther was the movement
of the gambler as he threw himself upon the now
sober man who had accused him. There was a brief
struggle; the gambler clasped one hand over his
breast and staggered. A knife dropped from under
his hand as he suddenly extended his arm, and with
a deep sigh he sank lifeless in his tracks.
The crowd opened, letting the red fireUght flood the
"Djb? valley an* DE SHADDER. 169
scene. Ben stood with folded arms, gazing upon the
corpse, but like a shadow falling, the woman glided
from her low perch by the prostrate figure and
snatched the bloody knife from the ground. For an
instant she crouched, her yellow face upturned to her
husband, a strange light in her eyes, and her long
black hair tumbling down upon her shoulders. She
seemed about to spring at his throat. But only for
an instant. The knife vanished in the folds of her
dress, and she pointed straight into the black depths
of the swamp.
"Run, run!" she whispered. Ben gazed about
him defiantly, then turned and strode away into the
shadow. None pursued. His arms dropped as he
disappeared, but no eye was strong enough to follow
and see the faint flash of light that trembled for an
instant upon the steel in his hands, like the glimmer
of a glow-worm through the texture of a dead leaf.
The woman still crouched by the corpse, but she
saw it not. Her eyes were fixed upon the shadow
that had closed over her husband. Horror and fear
seemed to have frozen her. The wondering group
discussed the tragedy, and constructed a rude litter
for the dead. But as they bore the body off, a man
approached her and asked to see the knife. She
turned her yellow face to his for an instant, then
bounded by him and was swallowed up in the swamp.
Forward she went through brake and bramble. A
12
170 ''DE VALLEY AN' DE SHADDEE."
great gnarled oak reached out to stop her, but in
vain ; and from the grasp of the bushes that clutched
her she rushed madly. Suddenly the silent stretch of
a gi-eat lagoon was before her. She lifted her arm
and frantically hurled the knife far out into the
night. No sound came back, though she held her
breath until her eyes started from their sockets. But
yes, at last — a far, faint splash, as when a cooter
glides from his log and seeks his couch in the slime
below.
'^ Ben ! " she whispered, " Ben ! " There was no
answer. "Ben!" This time it was a scream. A
thousand echoes darted here and there in the sound-
ing swamp, and as they died away a strange, sad sigh
was wafted out of the depths. Turning, she fled back
to life, pursued by a host of terrors. How she
reached it she knew not, but presently she fell pros-
trate upon the floor of the cabin. Crouching there
in the shadow was the aged form of her husband's
mother, crooning to his babe. Neither spake, and
lying on her face the young woman spent the remain-
ing hours of the night. But ever and anon she heard
the splash of the knife in the waters, the echoes calling
^^ Ben," and that strange, sad sigh of the spirit as it
left the dead man's body.
II.
Weeks passed. The little brown baby fell to the
care of its grandmammy. A spell was upon Mandy.
With her long hair down upon her shoulders, elbows
upon her knees, and face in her hands, she sat by the
hour under the great black- gum, gazing down into
the shadowy depths of the swamp. With an intuition
and refinement of kindness not uncommon to the
race, the elder woman kept silent upon the events of
that dreadful night. Not once did she refer to the
tragedy, not once to the wild life of the young wife
of which it was the culmination, — wild, for it had
been the same old story of mismated ages and foolish
playing with fire. Quietly she had gone on doing
the cooking and the washing, and the little brown
baby, as she toiled, played with its rag doll, and
preached to the sleepy cat. When the baby cried for
food she placed it in its mother's arms, where, as it
lay, Mandy studied the round face vaguely. But no
tear fell upon the child, and the old mammy wondered
as she watched the two.
" Mandy ain' come 'roun' yit," she said to a neigh-
bor once. " De Lord es 'flictin' her mighty hebby ;
171
172 ''I>E VALLEY AN' DE SH ADDER"
but she '11 come bimeby, she'll come bimeby." Yet
the time seemed long.
One day, as thus they sat, the Rev. Kesiah Toomer,
or "Unc' 'Siah/' as he was called, leaned over the
split- oak picket. His aged face, full of wrinkles, and
its white eyebrows, beamed down kindly upon them.
^^Mornin', Aunt Charlotte," he said, touching the
battered old straw hat that kept the sun from his
bald head and its kinky fringe of snowy hair ; " how
you do des mornin' ? " His was a soft, flexible voice,
full of conciliatory curves.
" I 'm toler'ble," replied the woman simply.
"HowMandy?"
" She 's tolerable." The young woman was dream-
ing into the depths, and heard nothing.
^^HowlittrBen?"
"He'stoler'ble."
"How Sis' Harriet r^
"She'stoler'ble."
" Yes 'm." Unc' 'Siah's face mellowed a little more,
and he shifted his weight to the other foot.
"Howyou, Unc"Siah?"
" I 'm toler'ble, bless God ! "
"HowPhylUs?"
^^She'stolei-'ble."
" The chillun all got weU?"
" Yes 'm, dey all toler'ble."
" Won't yer come en an' res' ? "
"DE VALLEY AN' DE SHADDEB." 173
Unc' ^Siah replied by limping slowly into the yard.
He had a leg that was stiff with rheumatism and gave
liim a painf Ill-looking gait. He seated himself in
the splint-bottom chair proffered him. For some time
he was silent. Every now and then his eye rested
upon the sleeping child and the brooding mother.
Charlotte knew that he had something to say.
" You seen Ben ? '' she asked quietly. The old man
stirred in his seat.
"Yes^m," he said; "seen him yestiddy.'^ There
was a slight change in the face of Mandy ; no move-
ment, but the eyes seemed to lose their far-away look
and fix themselves on something nearer.
" Wat ^e say?"
" Well/' replied the old man, thrusting out his stiff-
ened limb, " he ain' say much. Hit ^s mighty nigh
unto fo' weeks sence he uz put en jail, an' dey es
gointer have es trial next Chuesday." Then pres-
ently : " You bin deir, Mandy ? '^ Mandy turned her
hunted eyes upon him.
"Yes," she whispered, after awhile; "an' he druv
me 'way." Silence fell upon the little group. The
old woman was studying the face of the man, turned
towards the ground. The other had sunk again into
hopelessness above the baby. Presently Unc' 'Siah
spoke :
" He do say dat dem lyyers 'low dat deir 's mighty
littr chance fur 'im 'less 'n dat knife er Bill's 'd been
174 ^ ''DE VALLEY AN' BE SHADDEB."
picked up by somebody w'at uz leanin' ter our side er
de case, ^cause Bill's name uz on bit, ef bit uz Bill's,
an' 'u'd sbow fur bitse'f. Plenny uv 'em seed Mandy
snatcb bit fum de groun', an' sum ses es bow et uz
Ben's an' sbe uz erfeard ter sbow bit, an' sum ses es
bow bit uz Bill's an' sbe uz er-bidin' bit 'cause sbe
liked Bill more 'n Ben ; an' so bit goes. Now, ses I,
deir ain' nutb'n' en dat, an' Mandy '11 sw'ar in de court-
bouse sbe flung bit en de swamp fur Ben's 'tbout
lookin' at bit, — des like you say, boney, — but dey 'low,
does dem lyyers, es bow Mandy, bein' de prisoner's
wife, can't sw'ar en de case. But ef de knife uz deir,
ses dey, bit 'u'd tork fur bitse'f, 'cause deir ain' no
'sputin' de name, an' Sam Toliver an' Bob Jobnsin
knowed bit by sigbt. You could n't fin' bit, you
reck'n. Sis' Mandy ? " Tbe woman sbuddered. ''No,"
sbe said, "I bin deir en tbe day, but de place es
cbanged fum en de nigbt ; an' et nigbt, — I can't go
deir, Unc' 'Slab ! I can't go deir ! An' bit ain' no use
ter go en de dark, an' bit en de water." Unc' 'Slab
was silent a moment. Presently be added :
" Ben ses, ses be, ' Ef Marse Bob uz beab bit 'u'd be
all rigbt.' But deir ain' no cbance now, fur 'e live
'way off yander sebenty odd mile, an' no railroad balf
way. An' beab 't is er Tbu'sday 'bout sundown."
Mandy turned ber face to bis, but bis eyes looked
away, and be bad given bimself up to reflection.
Presently be said, as if addressing no one in par-
ticular :
"DE VALLEY AN' DE SHADDER." 175
" My ole Mis' tell me oncst, ' 'Siah/ ses slie, des so,
^ w'en de heart es sick an' lonesome deir ain' no med'-
cin' like work. Ef you got ter set down an' study
'bout hit hit 's gointer eat, es dis heah sickness 5 but
ef you es er-workin', hit gits out into suthin' else.'
Lord, but she live up ter hit too ; an' w'en Marse Sam
uz shot et Chinck'nhominy, es dey say, she tu'n en an'
cut up cyarpets fur de sogers, an' knit socks, an'
scrape lint twell bimeby hit uz all done ; an' one day
I seen 'er pickin' cotton in de orchud patch like er
common nigger, an' I ses den, ^ Ole Mis', hit 's er sin
an' er shame fur you ter do like dat.' An' right deir
she lif' up 'er ban's, dat de sun almos' shine troo, an'
say, ' Gimme work ter do, 'Siah 5 gimme work ter do ! '
An' lemme tell yer, right deir, too, I broke down.
But hit kep' ^er up, an' she ain' dead yit, but as peart
as anybody. Yes, sir, work es er big t'ing for hebby
eyes."
On the face of the yellow woman over her babe
a thought was dawning. A new spirit shone in her
eyes, and a quickening breath shook her form. As
she gazed upon the old man he took a pair of silver-
rimmed spectacles from his pocket and adjusted them.
Then he drew out a worn Bible. The woman sank
back again, but the thought in her eyes remained.
" Sis' Mandy," said he, " let de Lord speak, fur deir 's
trouble in sto' fur you an' yourn." Charlotte rested
her chin upon her hand, and her knitting, which she
176 "^^ VALLEY AN' DE SHADDEB:'
had drawn out, dropped to the ground. The old man
began, but his progress was slow. He had to spell
out many words, and explain as he read :
^' '■ Be Lord es my sheppud, I shall not want.^ Bless
de Lord fur dat ! ^ Shall not want ' ; you heah dat,
Sis^ Mandy ; not want fur nuth'n\ Don' care w'at hit
es, you shall not want hit long, sha'n't keep on er-
want'n' hit ef de Lord es yo' sheppud — an' you es
one er de flock. No, chile !
'' ' j?e makes me to lay doivn in green pastures, 'e leads
me deside de still waters,^ — yes, Lord, we know w'at
dat means fur er sheep, — whar de grass es long an^
green an' de water es cole, an' deir es shade all day
long ; dat 's de place fur yo' sheep an' yo' lam's.
^'^Se restoHth my soul; he leads up de paf er de
righteous fur es name^ sahe.'' Des heah dat ! Hit makes
no diffunce whar dat paf es er-goin' ; by de big road,
or ercross de corn-rows, or troo de swamp hitse'f, —
he 's gointer lead de waj^; an^ hit 's all de same ef
hit 's day or night ; hit 's all one wid de Lord.
" ^ Yea, though I ivalk troo de valley er de shadder er
death, I HI fear no devil/ — no, sir-r-r! No devil
gointer hu't you deir, fur deir 's er han' en de shadder,
an' hit 's more 'n er match fur him and his kind j dat
hit es!
a ' Fur thou art wid me, thy rod an^ thy staff dey com-
forts me.' Oh, yes, chillun, Jesus es deir by de side
er de troo berlievers, ef dey only knowed hit. An'
Tek de babv, Mammy
''DE VALLEY AN' DE SHADDEB." 177
w'en dey es come out er de valley an' de shadder,
w'at den?
" ' Thou prepares' er table fur me e7i de presunce uv
my enemies : thou a-n-o-i-n-t-e-t-h my head with oil, an'
7ny cup hit runs over.' — Dat '11 be er happy day den !
Oh, yes, oh, yes, w'en de cup es full de heart es full,
an' de eyes dey runs ober, 'cause uv de fullness erway
down below j yes, ma'am. W'en dat tayble es spread
hit '11 make anybody's eyes run over; barbecued
shote, br'iled chicken, fat ham, biscuits, white bread,
^simmun beer, all spread right deir en de presunce er
de enemy, de ole devil hisse'f fairly bustin' wid hunger
an' spite, but pow'less, 'cause de sheppud es deir ter
guard de lam's.
" An' w'en hit 's all done w'at ses de prophet ! Wen
de hard heart done lay down hits load an' de feet
been en de valley an' de shadder, an' by de waters an'
'cross de pastures er-f earin' nuth'n', w'at den ?
" ' Sholy ! ' ses he, ^ sholy ! ' — oh, hit 's er great word
is dat sholy, — ' sholy goodness an' mussy shall f oiler
me all de days er my life, an' I 'II dwell den en de house
er de Lord.' Bless him fur de promise ! "
'Si ah closed his book, and drew off his glasses,
and wiped them carefully upon the lining of his coat.
But the young woman stood up with the new thought
fairly speaking in her round brown eyes, and a new
vigor trembling in her frame.
" Tek de baby, Mammy," she almost shouted, plac-
178 ''DE VALLEY AN' DE SH ADDER:'
ing little Ben in the other's lap. " I 'm er-goin \ —
don't you heah? — I'm goin' troo de valley an' de
shadder an' by de waters an' cross de pastures twell
He show me Marse Bob ! I bin bline, Mammy, I bin
bline, but I ain't bline now ! He done op'n my eyes
an' I see de way. G-ood-bye ! Good-bye, Mammy !
Good-bye, Unc' 'Siah ! Keep de baby en yo' bed,
Mammy, en de night, an' don't let ^im cry fur me.—
En de valley an' de shadder an^ by de pastures ! — En
yo' bed. Mammy — "
She turned away. Her voice died out as she passed
beyond the live-oaks, but like a wind- whisper among
the pines it returned once more — " en y o' bed." Then,
and then only, did Unc' 'Siah lift up his face from his
hands and fix it skyward.
" De Lord he has spoke at las'. Hit 's all right,
Sis' Charlotte. De Lord's han' es er-reachin' out fur
Ben. Dat es Bill's knife.'^
Charlotte spoke not. Bending until her head rested
against the one ragged garment of the sleeping child,
she rocked him in silence. The old man gazed upon
her doubtfully, but presently he rose, and in silence
too limped out across the field.
III.
On went the young woman, her straight, strong
limbs bearing her bravely ; on into the great road, on
through the village with its lazy groups sitting about
in the afternoon shade, on past the jail, never stop-
ping. She moved as one in a trance, and the strange
light shone from her eyes.
" ^ En de valley an' de shadder,' Ben," she shouted,
'^ but er-f earin' nuth'n'. An' I 'm comin' back leanin'
on His rod an' His staff ; I 'm er-comin' back." People
looked at her curiously, but she stopped for none.
The shadows fell ; night found her on the lonely
highway. The tall pines crooned above; it seemed
as though a spirit sighed from the lips of the dying
man. A whippoorwill called from the depths of the
forest ; to her it was a voice from the past, and
strange things caught at her dress as she glided by.
"^En de valley an' de shadder,'" she whispered,
" ' an' ieanin' on His rod an' staff.' " No moon rose
to comfort her, but a mocking-bird sang as he used to
sing in the haw-bush by the cabin when the baby was
rolling on his back in the sand and she was sewing.
On, never faltering ; tired of limb, hungry and athirst,
but onward still.
179
180 "-D^ VALLEY AN' DE SHADDEE."
At dawn of day she dropped down by a friendly
door in the city's suburbs, and told her story. The
hospitality of the South animates the humblest dwell-
ing, and the humbler the roof the broader the unques-
tioning hospitality. Her thirst quenched, her hunger
appeased, she dragged her stiffening limbs into a new
road, and continued her journey. The sun came
forth and parched the ground, but the trees lent her
shade here and there. Thirst came back, but the
sparkling brook danced across her way. Hunger too
came again, yet the hospitable cabin followed it.
Night 5 and sleep, when, far in the night, she sank in
a fence-corner munnuring, '' ^ En de valley an' de shad-
der.'" And as she slept, nothing e\al passed the
sentinel that there stood guard beside her.
With the dawn the blistered feet resumed their
weary way. The histoiy of one day was the history
of the next. She started on Thursday ; on Monday
morning she passed through the great white columns
of a princely home, and told her story for the last
time ; and at 10 o'clock the next morning the trial of
Ben Thomas for murder was to begin at Jeffersonville,
in Twiggs county, seventy odd miles away.
The evening of the same day found Mandy back in
the city, and with her was a gray-haired man — Marse
Bob, she called him -, and the people who passed him
on the street touched their hats to him, and looked
back as his tall form went by. A buggy was to bear
''DE VALLEY AN' DE SHADDEE." 181
him to Jeffersonville in tlie early morning, bnt for her
there was work yet to be done.
^'W^en you pass Black Ankle/' she said to him,
*^ I '11 be deir." Before he could stop her she had
gone.
Not a voice broke the stillness of the hamlet as she
entered among the brooding cabins, save the far bark-
ing of Bill Fowler's dog. She had heard that animals
see spirits : was he barking at his master's ghost come
back again 1 Her flesh crept, and she almost screamed
as she trod unawares on the spot where the man died.
There was no light in the little house, no sound:
should she enter ? The wail of a baby came out to
her, — a feeble wail, as of one sick or starving. She
laid her hand upon the latch.
'' No," she moaned, " not now. Hit ^s de las^ chance,
de las'." She passed down into the black swamp,
lying there in the clouded moon like the grave itself.
" ^ En de valley an' de shadder,' " she whispered,
" ' an' er-fearin' nuth'n'.' " As she entered there, that
other night came back, and its horrors rose about
her. There was the bush that clasped her knees,
there the crooked tree that barred the way, and there
the tangled brake.
Then the lagoon, with its wide, still stretch of water,
lay at her feet.
" Ben ! " she called ; but the name died on her
throat. She raised her head again and threw the
182 "-D^ VALLEY AN' DE SHADDEE."
knife with all lier might, — aye, for the handle seemed
in her grasp as hard and bloody as on that fatal
night ! Yonder it would fall, she thought, straining
her eyes to where the black night rested upon the
cold, pale sheen of waters, and lo ! so it seemed to
fall. There came back from the carpeted gloom the
same splash ! She gasped, and clutched an overhang-
ing vine.
^' ' En de valley an' de shadder, thy rod an' thy
staff, an' er-f earin' nuth'n',' " she whispered brokenly ;
and so, half moaning, she let herself down into the
silent water. The chilly flood rose to her armpits,
but she moved forward straight into the gloom.
Once she stumbled, and the flood rolled over her, but
straight on she passed, with a precision seemingly
supernatui^al. As she moved she felt with her bruised
and torn feet in the soft ooze and in the slime j slowly
and patiently, for she fancied she could tread every
foot of the dark depths until the knife was found.
But there is a limit to human progress in Black
Ankle Swamp ; and just as the spot was reached to
which she had calculated that her strength could have
hurled the bloody weapon, the ground passed from
under her feet. Frantically she clutched at a cypress
knee to draw back, when instantly a sharp, swift pain
ran along her arm. She had touched a snake, and he
had struck his fangs into her clenched hand ! She
must not lose her hold; she did not. But her lips
''DE VALLEY AN' DE SHADDEB.'' 183
opened and sent up one wild, frenzied cry from that
dreadful place, — ''Oh, my God ! '^
But what was that ? There was no serpent in her
grasp ; only the long, keen blade of a knife, thrust
into the tender cypress. Ignorant and superstitious,
her frame trembled with terror j then the truth was
upon her. The weapon she had hurled out into the
night had stuck where it had struck ; the splash was the
plunge of a startled cooter. She drew it from its rest
and rushed from the place, as when a brown deer, the
hounds pressing hard, breaks through the swamp
and the cane and the treacherous ooze into the clear
fields beyond.
But gone now fatigue! The woman passed the
cabin, with its crib and its memories, almost without
knowing it, and took the road back to the city. It
would have been as weU to crouch there and wait for
the buggy or to have sought the village, but wait she
could not. The fever was upon her ; she must move.
So she ran citjnvard to meet the gray-haired rescuer.
Mile after mile passed, hour after hour, and still he
came not. Day broke, and the sun rose. A pre-
science of mortal danger was upon her, faintly at first,
a terror at last ; and mastering the fevered energy of
her great struggle, it slew her strength and hurled
her by the wayside, to lie with her hunted eyes fixed
upon the tree-arched lane overhead.
As thus she Iry, an old man riding a flying gray
184 ''DE VALLEY AN' DE SHADDER:'
horse rose in the shadowed light of the lane, and
presently burst into the full sunlight there before her.
The thundering feet of the animal were almost upon
her as she staggered dizzily to her feet and thrust up-
ward the knife. Wonder shone in the face of the
rider as, divining the truth, he caught the weapon
and passed swiftly from her view. A smile came over
her wan face. " ' En de valley an^ de shadder,' " she
whispered feebly, then set her feet towards home.
Tired? Yes, tired near unto death, but leaning
upon a rod and a staff that mortal vision could not
compass.
TV.
It was a sultry noon, and Jeffersonville was brisk.
As Jeffersonville is brisk only during the court week,
when the lawyers from Macon ride down to look after
the warehousemen's mortgages, and the leading attor-
neys from the adjoining counties run over to look
after the Macon lawyers and attend to the criminal
docket, it may be inferred that court was in session.
About the large, white, square frame building with
its green blinds and three entrances, little groups of
farmers were gathered and many unhitched teams
were visible. Within the one great room that takes
up the whole of the first floor, and from which ascend
steps to the various county oflices above, were the
usual court-house habitues, — jurors who hope in vain
to " get off," and citizens of limited income who yet
hope to " get on.'^ In front of the door was the
judge's elevated desk, with the clerk lower down,
whose feet rested in a chair while his mouth twisted
a tooth-pick. The midday meal had just ended, and
the court had not reentered. To the right and left
were the jury benches. The front half of the room
was devoted to the Bar, which by courtesy included
13 185
186 ''I>E VALLEY AN' DE SHABDEB"
all leading citizens, and tlie rear to negroes and the
promiscuous crowd on curiosity bent.
Apparently there was nothing exciting on hand
just then, though a murder trial had been interrupted
by a temporary adjournment. But the defendant was a
negro, and a negro murderer is not a novelty. While
the court was assembling, the curious might have
noted the prisoner's points. His face, if it had any
marked characteristics, was noted chiefly for its sin-
gularly inexpressive lines, and his attitude was one of
supreme indifference. His stout, heavy frame was
clad in a common jean suit stained with months of
wear, and his kinky hair was liberally sprinkled over
with gray. He sat quietly in his place, not even
affecting stolidity, but suffering his eyes to roam from
face to face as the genial conversation drifted about
in the group around him. He was evidently not im-
pressed by any sense of peril, though when the court
had adjourned, a clear case of murder had been
proved against him, and only his statement and the
argument remained.
Slowly the court assembled. The prisoner's coun-
sel had introduced no testimony. A man had been
stabbed by his client, had fallen dead, his hand
clasped over the wound ; and from beneath this hand,
when convulsively loosened, a knife had dropped,
which the defendant's wife seized and concealed.
This had been proved by the state's witnesses.
''DE VALLEY AN' DE SHABDER." 187
The prisoner took the stand to make his statement.
He declared emphatically that the deceased, knife in
hand, had assaulted him and that he had killed him
in self-defense ; that the knife which fell from the
relaxing hand was the dead man's. He told the stor^^
simply, and as he began it a tall, thick-set gentleman
in a gray suit, with iron-gray hair, and walking with
the aid of a stout stick, entered the room and stood
silent by the door, — heard him through, losing never
a word. As the prisoner resumed his seat the new-
comer entered within the rail. He shook hands
gravely with several of the older lawyers, and took
the hand that the court extended over the desk. Then
he turned and, to the astonishment of every one,
shook hands with the defendant, into whose face a
light had suddenly dawned which resolved itself into
a broad, silent grin. This done, the old gentleman
seated himself near the defendant's lawyer, and, rest-
ing his hand upon his massive cane, listened atten-
tively to the speech.
The speaker was not verbose. He rapidly summed
up, and laid his case before the jury in its best light.
Really there was not a great deal to say, and he soon
reached his peroration. He pictured the blasted
home of the poor negro, his wife and babe deprived
of his labor, and dwelt long upon the good name he
had always borne. In the midst of the most eloquent
periods, wherein he referred to the prisoner "sitting
188 " DE VALLEY AN' DE SHADDEE."
before you, gentlemen of the jury, broken-hearted
and borne down by the weight of this horrible
tragedy/' he turned and extended his hand to where
his client sat. A sight met his glance that sent the
flush of confusion to his face and started a ripple of
laughter around the room. The "broken-hearted"
was calmly munching away on an enormous ginger-
cake, the liberal moon in which proved the vigor of
his appetite. The eloquence of the speaker was fatally
chilled. He stammered, repeated, hesitated, and was
lost. After an awkward summing up, he took his
hat and books and precipitately retired to a secluded
part of the room. He had been appointed by the
court to defend the prisoner and had made consider-
able preparation, even to the extent of training his
client when to weep.
The solicitor arose, and with a few cold words swept
away the cobwebs of the case. The man had stabbed
another wantonly. If the knife was the property of
the deceased, why was it not produced in court ? —
the defendant's wife had picked it up.
He passed the case to the jury, and the judge pre-
pared to deliver his charge, when the old gentleman
in gray rose to his feet.
" If your Honor please," he said in a deep tone, the
honesty and purpose of which drew every eye upon
him, " the prisoner is entitled to the closing, and in
the absence of other counsel I beg that you mark my
^'DE VALLEY AN' BE SHADDER." 189
name for the defense. With the permission of my
young friend who has so cleverly stated the defense^
I will speak upon the case.'^
" Mr. Clerk," said the court, " mark General Robert
Thomas for the defense." The silence was absolute.
The jurymen moved in their seats. Something new
was coming. The old gentleman laid his hat and
stick upon the table, and drawing himself up to his
great height fixed his bright eye upon first one and
then another of the jury, looking down into their
very hearts. Only this old man, grim, gray, and
majestically defiant, stood between the negro behind
him and the grave. The fact seemed to speak out of
the silence to every man on that bench. Suddenly
his lips opened, and he said with quick but quiet
energy :
" The knife that was found by the dead man's side
was his own. He had drawn it before he was stabbed.
Ben Thomas is a brave man, a strong man ; he would
not have used a weapon on him unarmed ! " As he
spoke he drew from his bosom a long, keen knife, and
gently rested its point upon the table. The solicitor's
watchful eye was upon him. The attention of all was
gained, and the silence was intense. "It has been
asked. Where is the dead man's knife? Let me give
you my theory : When Bill Fowler staggered back
under the blow of Ben Thomas, clutching his wound,
and the knife fell to the ground, the lightning's flash
190 ''I>E VALLEY AN' DE SRADDEB.''
was not quicker than the change born in a moment
in the bosom of that erring woman, the unwitting
cause of the tragedy. Up to that moment she had
been weak and yielding j she had turned aside from
the little home, that should have been her all, to gam-
ble with strange men ; to tread the dangerous paths
which beset the one safe road a true woman's feet
may know. It had thrown a shadow over the humble
home; the husband drunk upon its porch was the
mute evidence of its presence. In the awful moment
of that tragedy, when the dancers stood horrified, this
woman became, as by an inspiration, a wife again.
Deceived herself, she caught up the tell-tale knife and
hurled it into the swamp, destroying the e\ddence of
her husband's innocence when she sought to conceal
one evidence of his guilt. This, I say, is a theory.
You remember her cry was, ' Eun ! ' " His listeners
stirred, and a whisper went round the room.
" But there is other evidence, gentlemen of the jury.
Should I be forced to ask for a new trial, it will be de-
veloped that this poor woman, repentant now, thank
God! walked in three days from the scene of that
tragedy to my home, severity miles away, to ask
my aid and counsel ; that, eluding me in Macon,
though footsore and weary and crazed with grief, she
returned by night to that swamp, and laboring under
an excitement as intense as the first, that brought the
scene before her so vividly that she was enabled to
''DE VALLEY AN' DE SHADDEB." 191
find the knife, did find it, and bnt that an accident to
my vehicle delayed me it would have been offered
here in evidence ''
^^ May it please your Honor," said the solicitor, '^much
as I dislike to interrupt the honorable gentleman, I do
not think it is proper to introduce with the argument
evidence that has not been offered upon trial."
"If your Honor please," — and the speaker turned
to the prosecuting officer with quiet dignity and
gentleness that disarmed him at once, — "a decision
upon such a proposition is not needed. I willingly
admit what is claimed. But, sir, I offer no evidence,
not even this knife, with the name of the deceased
upon it, though it comes to me direct from the hand
of the woman who, it has been proved, snatched
almost from under his hand a weapon when he fell
to the ground. I am but arguing a theory to account
for the facts that have been proved. But, gentlemen
of the jury," — and the knife fell to the table as he
turned away from it, — " not upon this theory, not upon
these facts, do I base the assertion that the deceased
had a knife in his hand when he made the assault, —
I speak from a knowledge of men. Ben Thomas
would never have stabbed an unarmed man." The
General looked around slowly and searched the court-
house with his eye, as if daring contradiction. " Why
do I say this 1 " he continued, turning to the court.
" Because I know he is as brave a man as ever faced
192 ''DE VALLEY AN' DE SHADDEB."
death; a faithful man; a powerful man, and con-
scious of his power. Such men do not use weapons
upon unarmed assailant s.'^ The audience stirred in
their seats. The speaker turned again to the jury.
^' I speak to men who reason. True reasoning with
such is as strong as proof. A brave man who is full
of strength never draws a weapon to repel a simple
assault. The defendant drew when he saw a glitter-
ing knife in the hand of his foe, — not from fear, be-
cause he could have fled, but to equalize the combat.
He was cool and calm ; you know the result.
" Why do I say he is brave ? Every man on this
jury shouldered his musket during the war. Most of
you followed the lamented Pickett. Some perhaps
were at Gettysburg." Two or three heads nodded
assent. ^' I was there too !" A murmur of applause
ran round the room, — the old man^s war record was
a household legend. It is even said that the court
joined in. " I, and the only brother God ever gave
me." The veteran bowed his head ; his voice sank to
a whisper. " A part of him is there yet," — his hand
shook slightly as he moved his cane farther on the
desk, and rested upon the Code, — '^ a part of him, but
not all ; for, God be praised, we picked up whatever
was left of him and brought it back to Georgia.
^'I well remember that fight. The enemy stood
brave and determined, and met our charges with a
courage and grit that could not be shaken. Line
'^>
See, if I speak not the truth ! "
''DE VALLEY AN' BE SHADDEE:' 193
after line melted away during those days, and at last
came Pickett's charge. When that magnificent com-
mand went in, a negro man, an humble African, a
captain's body-servant, stood behind it, shading his
eyes with his hand, waiting. You know the result.
Out of that vortex of fl.ame, and that storm of lead
and iron a handful drifted back. From one to another
this man of black skin ran, then turned and followed
in the track of the charge. On, on, he went, under
my very glass, for it was my misfortune to stay
behind ; on through the smoke and the flame ; gone
one moment and in sight the next ; on up to the flam-
ing cannon themselves. Then there he bent and lifted
a form from the ground. Together they fell and rose,
and this three times, until, meeting them half-way,
I took the burden from the hero and myself bore it on
to safety. That burden was the senseless form of my
brother," — here he turned and walked rapidly to the
prisoner, his hand lifted on high, his voice ringing
like a trumpet, — ^^ gashed, and bleeding, and mangled,
but alive, thank God ! And the man who bore him out,
who came to me with him in his arms as a mother
would carry a sick child, himself shot with the frag-
ment of a shell until his great heart was almost
dropping from his breast, — that man, O my friends,
sits here under my hand ! See, if I speak not the
truth ! " He tore open the prisoner's shirt and laid
bare his breast, on which the silent splendor of the
194 ''DE VALLEY AN' DE SHADBEE"
afternoon sun streamed in like a smile from heaven.
A great ragged seam marked it from left to right.
" Look ! " he cried, " and bless the sight, for that scar
was won by a slave in an hour that tried the souls of
freemen and put to its highest test the best manhood
of the South. No man who wins such wounds can
thrust a knife into an unarmed assailant. I have
come seventy miles in my old age and my sorrow
to say it."
It may have been contrary to the evidence, but the
jury, without leaving their seats, returned a verdict
of " not guilty," and the solicitor, who bore a scar on
his own face, smiled as he received it.
" The prisoner," said the court, rapping for order,
" is discharged."
^' Yes, sah," said Ben, rising and flashing a set of
dazzling ivories at the judge. "I knowed hit uz all
right soon es I laid eyes on Marse Bob's ole gray
head."
He went over and clasped the old Colonel's hand
in both of his, giving expression also to a loud
laugh. " One mo' time — me an' you, Marse Bob,
one mo' time ! How Ole Miss gittin' on % " The old
man's reply was inaudible; he spoke very gently,
and with his chin upon his breast. Ben started back,
changed at once. "Dead!" he exclaimed. " Died las'
week ! Nobody never tole old Ben." His words were
heard by all present, who were sharing in his joy,
''DE VALLEY A2^' BE SHABDER." 195
and silence fell upon the crowd. He regarded his
friend mutely for a few moments, then with his
hand over his eyes went back to his seat. " Young
Marster/' he said to a lawyer there, " gimme dat hat
down deir on de flo', pleas' ! '' At the gateway to the
inner court, he turned once more and made a rude
gesture inclusive of all present. "Judge," he said
simply, " an' gemmen, I 'm ve'y much 'bliged ter yer
all. Yer stood up ter Ole Marse Bob, an' yer done
me er good turn too." He went out with his face
averted.
The evening shadows gather over Black Ankle. A
young woman with a baby at her breast sits, weary
of eye and limb, under the spreading gum-tree by the
spring. Slowly the yellow rooster leads his followers
up the rail to the shed, and the lean cow at the
picket-gate lows for entrance. Suddenly out of the
valley of the shadow — of death itself — a man comes
and rests his hand upon the woman's head. Then the
twilight deepens, and we see them no more.
"MINC— A PLOT.
^HE trim little steamboat that plies
Lake Harris^ the loveliest of all
Florida waters, emerged from the
picturesque avenue of cj^press and
trailing moss called Dead River,
which leads out of Eustis, and glided as a shadow be-
twixt sea and sky toward its harbor, fourteen miles
away. It had been the perfection of a May day, and
the excursionists, wearied at last of sight-seeing, were
gathered upon the forward deck. The water-slopes
of the highlands on the right, with their dark lines of
orange-trees and their nestling cottages, lay restful in
the evening shadow fast stretching out toward the
boat, for the sun was dipping below the horizon with
the stately pines in silhouette upon his broad red face.
^' Home, Sweet Home,^' '^ Old Kentucky Home," and
^^Old Folks at Home" had been rendered by the
singers of the party with that queer mixture of pathos
and bathos so inseparably connected with excursion
songs, and a species of nothing-else-to-be-done silence
settled over the group, broken only by the soft throb
of the engine and the swish of di\dding waters. Pres-
196
"MIXC"—A PLOT. 197
ently some one began a dissertation upon negro
songs, and by easy stages the conversation drifted to
negro stories. Among the excursionists sat a gray-
haired, tall, soldierly looking gentleman whom every
one called ^' Colonel," and whose kindly eyes beamed
out from under his soft felt hat in paternal fiiendli-
ness upon all.
" It is somewhat singular," he said at length, when
there had come a lull in the conversation, *^ that none
of the story-writers have ever dealt with the negro
as a resident of two continents. Why could not a
good story be written, the scene laid partly in Africa
and partly in the South ? I am not familiar enough
with the literature of this kind and the romances
that have been written about our darkies to say posi-
tively that it has not been already done, but it seems
to me that the opportunity to develop a character
from the savage to the civilized state is very fine and
would take well. Victor Hugo has a negro in one of
his West India romances whose name I forget now —
the story used to be familiar "
" Bug-Jargal," suggested some one.
" So it was. But in this reference is made only to
the man's ancestry ; and I never thought the charac-
ter true to life. Hugo did not know the negro."
" But, Colonel, is it not true that these people were
the veriest savages, and would it not be too great a
strain upon the realistic ideas of the day to venture
198 ''MINC"—A PLOT.
into Africa for a hero, especially since Rider Hag-
gard has idealized it ! "
^' I don't think so. We have no way of ascertain-
ing just how much the imported slaves really knew,
but it is a fact that a few were remarkable for some
kind of skill and intelligence. They were not com-
municative, and soon drifted into the dialect of
their new neighbors, forgetting their own. I had a
negro on my plantation who undoubtedly came from
Africa. I was present when my father bought him
upon the streets of Savannah, becoming interested in
his story soon after he was landed. His mother was
described as a sort of priestess — or, as we say, a
Voodoo — in her native land, which was near the
western coast of Africa, some twelve hundi-ed miles
north of Cape of Good Hope. Her influence for evil,
it seems, was so remarkable that as soon as possible
she was separated from the cargo and sent on to one
of the Gulf ports. This fellow was then probably
about thirty years old — a little jet-black man with
small, bright eyes of remarkable brilliancy. He
seemed very glad to go with us, and, I may add,
never at any time afterward did he ever give trouble,
but did readily what was required of him. He seemed
to take a fancy to me from the first, and his love — I
say love, for I believe it was genuine affection —
gradually extended to all white children. For chil-
dren of his own color — I won^t say race, for in many
*'MIXC"—A PLOT. 199
respects lie differed from the ordinary negro — lie
entertained tlie liveliest disgust. Now a story- writer
could take that slave and with the help I might give
him — his life with us, his peculiarities, powers, cer-
tain singular coincidences, and the manner of his
death — weave a very interesting romance."
" O Colonel, do tell us the story ! " The appeal
came in the shape of a chorus from the ladies pres-
ent, and was at once reenforced by the others. A
pair of sweethearts who had been leaning over the
bow came slowly back on hearing it, and added their
solicitations. The genial old gentleman laughed and
looked out upon the waters.
'^ I did not know I was spreading a net for my own
feet," he said. '^ The story of this fellow would
require half a night, even were I able to put it in
shape, but I can give a rough outline of some feat-
ures of it. ^Minc,' as he was called, though his
name as near as I can imitate his pronunciation was
'Meeng^r/ — Mine was for a long time a sort of ele-
phant on the f amily^s hands. My mother was a little
afraid of him, I think, and the negroes themselves
never did entirely overcome their respect for him
enough to treat him exactly as one of them, although,
as I have intimated, he was perfectly harmless.
" Mine, however, one day exhibited a strange power
over animals which is even now a mystery to me. He
could take a drove of hogs and by a series of queer
200 ''MINC"—A PLOT.
little sounds, half grunts, half groans, reduce them to
submission and drive them where he would. Gradu-
ally, as the rules for feeding and taking care of them
became known to him, he was given charge of the
plantation hogs, of which there were five or six hun-
dred, and no small responsibility it was. I remember
he at once fashioned him a little instrument from the
horn of a yearling ; with this he could go into the
swamp and by a few notes thereon call them up on
the run. That one horn lasted him all his life, and he
was with us thirty odd years. He used to wear it hung
round his neck by a string, and it was the one posses-
sion that the children could not get away from him
for even a moment. I think that probably some
superstition restrained him.
" Another queer power possessed by Mine was in
connection with grasshoppers. I have seen him hun-
dreds of times go into the orchard where the crab
grass was tall, and standing perfectly still give forth
from his chest a musical humming sound. If there
were any big brown grasshoppers within hearing
they would fly up, dart about and light upon him.
Sometimes he would let me stand by him, and then
the grasshoppers would come to me also; but Mine
could catch them without any trouble, while any
movement from my hand drove them off. Mine,"
continued the speaker, laughing softly, " used to eat
the things," — exclamations from the ladies, — "and I
Mine's Cal3iii.
*'MINC"-^A PLOT. 201
am told that certain tribes in Africa are very fond of
them."
^^ Boiled in a bag and eaten with salt they are not
bad/' said a young gentleman with the reputation of
having been everywhere. ''I have eaten what was
probably the same ^insect, though under the name of
locusts." (More exclamations.) ^^ Why not ? " he added
in defense. " Can anything be worse to look upon
than shrimps ? "
" Well/' continued the Colonel, " I soon broke Mine
of eating them. The grasshoppers were my favorite
bait for fish, and Mine developed into a most suc-
cessful angler, quite abandoning his cane spear —
though, by the way, he was as certain of a victim
when he struck as was a fish-hawk. I think the
plantation rations also had something to do with his
change of diet.
" Well, as Mine's queer powers came to be known
he was not greatly sought after by the other negroes.
They are slow to speak of their superstitions, but it
soon developed that they regarded him as being in
league with spirits. He lived in a little cabin down
on the creek apart from the others, and there was my
favorite haunt, for I was more than delighted with
Mine's accomplishments, and Mine was rapidly learn-
ing from me the use of many words, which gave me a
sort of proprietary interest in him. In time he came
to speak as well as the average negro, but he had a
14
202 ''MINC"—A PLOT.
way of running his words together when excited that
made him all but unintelligible. I never did get
much information from him concerning his former
life. He did n^t seem to be able to convert terms well
enough to express himself. He had lived near great
swamps, ate fish, was familiar with the hog — this
much I gleaned; and from time to time he would
recognize birds and animals and excitedly give me
what were evidently their names in his own country.
Of course this all came to me at odd times from year
to year, and did not make a great impression. I
remember, though, that reference to his capture had
always a depressing effect upon him, and at such
times he would go off about his work. I suppose the
memory of his mother was the cause of this ; and I
soon found that to speak to him of the matter would
cost me Minces company, and so I quit bringing up
the subject.
" The things in connection with Mine that puzzled
me more were his superstitions. Doubtless they were
taught him by his mother, and the first intimation of
them I had was when he caught a gopher, and with a
bit of wire ground to an exceedingly fine point cut on
its shell a number of curious signs, or hieroglyphics,
different from anything I had ever seen, except that
there was a pretty fair representation of the sun. He
then took this gopher back to where he found it and
turned him loose at the entrance of his burrow, mak-
ing gestures indicating that the gopher was going far
"MINC"—A PLOT. 203
down into the earth. He did something of this kind
for every gopher he caught. One day he succeeded
in snaring a green-head duck, and upon its broad
bill he carved more hieroglyphics. This done, to my
astonishment, and probably to the duck's also, he
tossed the bird high in the air and laughed as it sped
away. As the years went by I saw him treat many
birds after the same fashion. If there was room for
only one or two figures he would put them on, and
let the bird go. But as he grew older Mine ate the
large majority of his captures, just as any other
negro would.
"Well, many years passed awayj I grew up and
married. By this time Mine was long since a feature
of the plantation. My children in time took my
place with him, and many 's the ride he gave them in
his little two-wheel cart behind the oxen. I should
have said before that he used to haul corn to the hogs
when in distant fields, and wood for the house-fires on
the way back. The negroes no longer feared him,
but the negro children would run past his wagon as
he plodded along and sing :
' Ole Unc' Mine
Under th' hill,
His eyes stick out
Like tater hill.
Juba dis and Juba dat,
Juba roun' de kitch'n fat, —
Juba ketch er — er '
204 "MINC"—A PLOT.
"Oh, well, I forget how the rhyme ran; but Mine
would stop every time and hurl a string of words at
them which no one could ever exactly translate ; and
the little brats, delighted at having provoked the
outburst, would kick up their heels and scamper off.
But along in the war,'' continued the Colonel, after
yielding a moment to a quiet shake of his sides over the
recollections trooping up, " Mine filled another office.
It was found that by means of a notched stick, scarcely
two feet in length, he could keep books, so to say, as
well as anybody. I can't, and never will, I reckon,
fathom the fellow's system. He often tried to explain
it J but when he had finished, you would know just
about what you knew at first and be a little confused
as to that. But he never was known to make a mis-
take. Sent into the fields, he would weigh cotton for
forty pickers all day and report at night just what
each picked in the morning and evening and the
sum of all — and all by means of his notches. I am
absolutely sure he brought the system from Africa,
for no one ever was able to understand it on the
plantation, and Mine never lived a day off it. You
will see the relation these incidents bear to my
first proposition as to imported negroes being simply
savages.
" The death of Mine was tragic and surrounded by
some remarkable circumstances, and here again comes
the story- writer's field. Two years before his death
Mine's Mother.
"MINC'—A PLOT. 205
Mine had caught and tamed a little cooter* about
twice the size of a silver dollar. He would hum a
queer little tune for his pet, and the thing would
walk around the floor for all the world as if he was
trying to dance. Then he would come when called,
and was particularly fond of sleeping in Mine's dark
jacket-pocket, where I suspect he found crumbs.
Mine would sometimes throw him into the creek just
in front of his cabin, but the little thing would scram-
ble out and get back to the hut again if Mine was in
sight ; if not, he staid in an eddy close by. You will
understand directly why I speak so particularly of
this. As the cooter grew larger, Mine amused him-
seK by cutting hieroglyphics all over its back. Into
these lines he rubbed dyes of his own manufacture,
and the result was a very variegated cooter. The old
man carried him almost continually in his pocket;
partly, I think, because the animal's antics always
amused the children, and partly because he was
the cause of Mine's getting many a biscuit. He
would frequently come to the house, and sitting
on the back porch make ^ Teeta,' as he called the
cooter, go through with his tricks. These gener-
ally resulted in Mine's getting biscuit or cake for
Teeta, and in his lying down and letting the animal
* *' Cooter," the common name in the South for a species of
turtle inhabiting lagoons and streams. The burrowing terrapin
is there called the gopher.
206 "MiyC"—A PLOT.
crawl into his pocket after it, a feat tliat closed the
performance.
'^ Well, one day Mine was missing. Everything
about his cabin was in order, bnt he did not return.
He never did return. Search was made, of course,
and he was finally given up. The negroes dragged
the creek, but not with much expectation of finding
him, for I am afraid that some of them believed that
Old Nick had taken him bodily. But a month after-
ward my oldest boy was hunting in the big swamp
for the hogs, which had become badly scattered since
Mine's death, when in crossing a tree that had fallen
over one of the many lagoons thereabout whom should
he see sitting there but Teeta, watching him with his
keen little black eyes, the patch of sunlight he had
chosen bringing out the tattoo marks upon his shell.
The next instant Teeta dived off the log and disap-
peared. Tom came home and told of his adventure.
Taking a party of negroes, I returned with him and
dragged the lagoon. Just where the cooter had dived
we found the body of poor old Mine. He had fallen
off the log, and becoming entangled in the sunken
branches had drowned. And in the rotting pocket
of his old jacket we found the cooter hid away."
The Colonel raised his hand as exclamations broke
from the party.
" No; you must let me finish. The finding of the
cooter was not the most singular thing connected with
"MINC"—A PLOT. 207
the death of Mine. Upon our return home one of the
superstitious negroes, greatly to my distress, cut off
Teeta's head. He wanted it to place it under his door-
step. This was to protect the place from old Mine, of
course ; but I had the shell cleaned, and the children
kept it as a memento of the faithful old slave whom
they had dearly loved.
" Relating this story once to an eminent traveler,"
continued the Colonel, "he suggested that I should
send it to the British Museum with its history written
out 5 and going to New York soon after, I carried it
with me. It lay forgotten, however, in my trunk, and
I did not notice it again until one day I happened to be
in New Orleans. There was then in that city an aged
negress, claiming to be a Voodoo, and creating con-
siderable stir among the Northern attendants upon
Mardi-Gras. I don't know what suggested it, but it
occurred to me one day that I would let her look at
the shell. It was a mere fancy, or impulse, if you
will. I carried it to her. She was, indeed, an old
woman, small in stature, and bent nearly double.
Without speaking a word, I placed the sheU in her
hand. She gave one long, fixed look at it, and
straightened up as if casting off the weight of half a
century. Her lips parted, but she could not speak.
Then her form resumed its crook again, and placing
her hand against the small of her back, she gasped
for breath. With her bright black eyes fixed upon me
208 ''MINC'—A PLOT.
she said at last, after a violent struggle, ^Meeng'r!'
It was a mere whisper. I spent an hour with the poor
old creature, and told her the story of her son's life,
for it was undoubtedly he. I gleaned from her that
the hieroglyphics upon the shell were taught him by
her, — what they signified she would not say, — and
that he had written them upon the birds of the air,
the beasts of the field, and the inhabitants of the
water, that they might be borne to her wherever hid.
I never got my shell back : it would have been like
tearing the miniature of a dead child from its mother's
bosom. And the old woman, when I went to see her
next day, had disappeared."
Here the old gentleman arose and went forward.
A BORN INVENTOR.
ANKY GUNNER replaced her
rapidly cooling iron before the
coals in the great fireplace of her
log-cabin, took up a fresh one,
spit upon its smooth surface, and,
satisfied that the abrupt "teest" that saluted her ear
indicated the right temperature, faced her visitor
across the ironing-board.
" No, I don't reckon as how it 's posserbul thet airy
anuther sech boy do live on the face of the yarth as
our Bill. The parson says as how he es er borned
inwenter, — whatever thet may be, w'ich mebbe you
knows, I don't, — an' ter let 'im sperriment all he
wants ter. Er man named Franklelin, he says,
would n't er nev'r diskivered Ermeriky 'ceptin' thet
he war er sperrimenter, an' ef Collumbus had n't er
sperrimented, folks would n't er known to this day
209
210 ^ BOBN INVENTOR.
what chain lightnin' 's made outer. Let 'im sperri-
ment, says he, an' let 'im sperriment, says I, an' sper-
riment he do."
'' I Ve hearn tell as how Bill 's powerful handy
'bout the house with tools/^ said Cis'ly Toomer.
Dipping her althea mop in the tiny tin box of snuff
and restoring it to her mouth, she returned the box to
the pocket of her faded calico gown, that was inno-
cent of hoop, underskirt, or bustle, and drooped her
shoulders forward comfortably as she lifted her yel-
low, pinched face. " Sim says as how he made er
wooden leg fur Jedge Loomus' mule w'at ther rail-
road runned over."
Nanky Gunner laughed until her three hundred
pounds of avoirdupois quivered vigorously.
" Fact, Cis'ly. Jedge war erbout ter kUl ther crit-
ter w'en Bill walks up an' lif s his han', so. ^ Ef God
hed er wanted thet mule killed,' says he, ^ he 'd er let
ther train kill it dead.' With thet ther Jedge he
laughed. ^ Mebbe yer kin mek 'im er wooden leg,'
says 'e. ^I kin,' says Bill; an' right thar Jedge
'lowed he might have ther critter an' welcome. Well,
sho 'nough. Bill tended thet mule, an' while he war
er-tendin' uv 'im he war all time inwentin' er leg ; an'
bimeby he got ther critter propped up an' ther
thingermajig stropped on ter 'im. Well, I never seed
sech er sight en all my born days. Ef 't had n' be'n
fur sorryin' fur ther critter, I 'd er busted wide open.
A BORN IXVENTOB. 211
Ther inwention had er rest fiir thet critter's stump^
an' er crutch thet caught it somers unner ther
shoulder, an' ther strops run all over hit."
"Nanky Gunner, I mus' see thet mule 'fo' I git
back ter Putnum — "
" Lor' bless ye, chile, hit 's done dead too long ter
talk erbout." Nanky set her iron with a clang upon
its ring and began to sprinkle another cotton shirt.
"Ye see, Franklelin — thet's Vat BiU called 'im —
Franklelin war used ter wade ther crik down yonder
ter there parstyer j an' once ther crik riz powerful,
an' Franklelin he tried ter swim across like he used
ter 'f o' ther railroad runned over 'im, an' thet 's why
he's dead — 'cause somehow he couldn't work thet
ar peg leg edzactly right, an' they do say as how 'e
rolled over an' over, tell bimeby he war drowned an'
lef er-lyin' on 'is back ^ith nuthin' er-showin' but
thet ar peg leg er-p'intin' up at ther sky. Our
Bill war mighty sorryful, but 'e alius 'lowed ef 'e
hed er shod thet wooden foot hit would er be'n
diffunt."
One of those silences common to country conversa-
tions followed the description of poor Franklin's
death, and then Nanky Gunner's thoughts rose to the
surface.
" I would n't begin ter name ther things our Bill
have inwented. Ther yard an' house es mighty nigh
full uv 'em. Some uv 'em won't work, ter be sho, but
212 ^ BOBN INVENTOR.
Bill alius knows w'at ails 'em, an' sets 'em l)y ter fix
up w'en 'e gits time. He 's er-inwentin' er spring-
bucket now thet '11 slide down hill an' fetch 'er full
an' back ther same time — "
" Es 'e inwentin' hit right now ? " Cis'ly Toomer's
voice was lifted in an impressive whisper.
" Eight now."
" Lor', how I 'u'd like ter see 'im er-doin' hit."
Nanky Gunner replaced her iron upon the hearth
and waddled out from behind her board. She
touched her guest upon the shoulder. ^^ Sh-h-h-h ! "
she whispered, and motioned her to follow. They
passed out across the doorless hall into the other
room, the boards groaning under Nanky's tiptoe gait,
until they reached the wall by the fireplace. There
Nanky placed her eye to a crack and peeped through
into a tiny shed-room adjoining, then made way for
Mrs. Toomer. A barefooted boy sat on a rough work-
bench, his elbows on his knees, his cheeks in his
hands. His face was freckled, his hair tousled, and
his trousers, cotton shirt, and one knit suspender
rather dilapidated. Before him was a framework of
strings, with two little boxes to represent buckets.
The framework extended from the workbench down
to the far corner of the room. The boy seemed to
be a carved statue, so still was he, and so fixed his
gaze.
" Ef ye hed er so much as sneezed," said Nanky
He got ther critter propped up."
A BORN INVENTOR. 213
Gunner to her companion when they reentered the
first room, ^' hit 'u'd er be'n gone. Bill war oncst
on ther p'int uv inwentin' er thing ter tie on ther
caK thet 'u'd keep 'im f om siickin' whilst I war er-
milkin' an' at ther same time keep ther flies off er ole
Brindle too, w'en en warks Tom an' spoilt hit all.
Bill war thet disappointed he liked ter cried, but 'e
tried ter patch up suthin' anyhow thet 'u'd workj
but bless yo' soul, 'e tied hit on ther calf an' the first
hunch 'e made at ole Brindle ther thing tickled her en
ther ribs an' she kicked me an' the bucket erway
yonder ! Sech er terdo ye never did see. Him, not
er-knowin' w'at en ther worl' war ailin- uv th' cow,
'u'd trot up ter suck, an' as soon as ther inwention
'u'd tech 'er en ther ribs, she 'd carry on redickelus,
er-runnin' an' jumpin' like ther hornets hed 'er. I
like ter laugh myse'f ter death w'en I got my win'
f om th' lick she gin me."
" Es Tom er inwenter too ? "
" Tom *? Lor', no ! Tom an' Bill es twins, but ye
would n't know they war blood kin. Tom runs ter
huntin' an' ther likes, but 'e 'lows Bill 's got more
sense en er day than ther w'ole Hepzibah settlemunt
got en er ye'r. Hyah comes Pa."
The conversation was interrupted by the entrance
of a barefooted man who, walking with the aid of a
staff, slowly made his way into the room. He was
old and feeble. His bent form was haK clad in rough
214 -^ BOBN INVENTOR.
homespun, and lie wore no coat. He paid no
attention to either woman, but pulled a chair into
the hallway and sat down to chew his quid of
tobacco.
" Pa es sorter wand'rin' en 'is min','' said Nanky,
simply, "an' 'e can't hyah ther bes' en ther worl',
nuther. Bill says es how some these days he 's goin^
ter inwent er thing that er man kin hyah with ef 'e
ain' even got er ye'r on 'is head." Nanky set her iron
aside and walked to the window.
" Cis'ly Toomer," she said, " did ye ever en all yo
horned life hyah th' win' blow like thet!'^
" Oncst," said her visitor, joining her and scanning
the heavens anxiously ; " an' I hope ter God I '11 never
see sech another day. Hit war over en Putnum,
time uv ther cycleone — " She stopped short. Beyond
the little valley below them stretched a plain two
miles wide, dotted here and there with negro cabins.
After freedom the slaves, when permitted, rebuilt
their cabins near the particular pieces of land they
cultivated; and so it was with the great plantation
before them. What broke Cis'ly Toomer's sentence
was a fearful cloud that swept out of the woods in
the distance and seemed to write upon the plain with
its long flexible finger. As it passed along it gathered
up trees, fences, cabins, cattle, and dust into one vast
mass and strewed them over its track. A sudden
darkness fell upon the two awe-stricken women — a
A BOBN INVENTOR. 215
darkness riven by incessant flashes of lightning that
darted through the center of the storm from all quar-
ters. There was no thunder, for the roar of the
tempest, as it rolled, was like Niagara in its fall,
drowning all other sounds. The wind about the cabin
increased to a hurricane ; but the cyclone had passed.
When this fact became apparent, with blanched faces
they made their way to the hall. Grasping his chair
with both hands, his eyes riveted upon the ravished
plain, his chin still trembling, sat the old man.
216 J. BORN INVENTOR.
II.
After some days Bill resumed work upon his
spring-bucket idea. He finally succeeded in getting
the model to work by putting a rock in the down
bucket ) but, for obvious reasons, this was not satis-
factory. Then he planned a plank-way from the
window forty yards down the hill to the spring, and
a car on wheels. At this stage in the evolution of the
idea he was interrupted by something new, which
consigned the self-acting, labor-sa\dng, traveling-buck-
ets to the companionship of his other unfinished
contrivances. The cyclone had caused intense excite-
ment. The destniction to life and property and the
hair-breadth escapes were absorbing topics, and the
reports of other cyclones, gathered from newspapers,
were eagerly discussed and magnified. People began
to think of cyclone retreats as refuges in stormy
times. One day Tom offered to bet the seed cotton in
his patch that BiU could fix up something that would
puzzle any cyclone in the world ; and thus the train
was fired in the brain of the family genius. Some-
thing was needed that could be reached quickly with-
out exposure to the elements. In the recent storm a
A BOEN INVENTOR. 217
negro had taken refuge in a cellar; but the house had
fallen in and taken fire, and the negro had lost his
life. So the refuge must be apart from the house to
insure complete safety. Thus Bill in the solitude of
his workshop reasoned.
The rough plan of his water-railroad caught his
eye, and an old dairy near the bottom of the hill
flashed into his recoDection. Then the true plan was
perfected in his mind.
The Gunner dwelling was upon the site of one of
the great ante-bellum homes that disappeared when
Sherman marched through Georgia, and the spacious
dairy dug out of the hillside and fronting upon the
little ravine that ran down to the spring was a monu-
ment to the old family which had dwelt there. Bill's
idea was a covered passage leading from a window
down the hiU and by a sharp curve into the dairy.
Burning with the fever of the scheme, he communi-
cated his plans to Tom and secured at once a power-
ful ally. The two boys picked cotton at forty cents per
hundred for a neighboring planter and secured money
enough to buy the necessary lumber, and Bill went
to work upon the structure. The diameter of the
shute was determined by measuring Nanky Gunner's
chair-seat, and a week's hard work completed the
structure. It was three feet wide and three high,
inside measurement. The upper end rested in the
window and the lower entered the old subterranean
15
218 ^ BOBN INVENTOR.
dairy, the rest of the opening there being closed with
stout boards and dirt. For a long time Bill debated
upon a traveling railway to run down the passage he
had constructed, but the idea involved new difficul-
ties, such as pulleys, wheels, and ropes, and conse-
quently a considerable outlay of money — something
not obtainable, for the boys had bankrupted their
resources in the purchasing of lumber. Besides, the
fever of the idea was hot upon them. At this junc-
ture Tom offered a suggestion. It was the nearest
approach to an invention he had ever made.
" BiU,'' said he in his hearty way, *' folk as es gittin'
erway f om er cycleone ain't expected ter move erbout
in style like they were er-gwine ter er quiltin'. All
they wants ter do es ter git up an' git teU the things
blows over. Now hit do seem ter me thet ther way
ter fix thet ar thing es ter grease them bottom planks
thar, an' w'en ther time comes ter be er-movin' jes
git en an' scoot down ter ther bottom. Hit ain't
gwine ter be much used, an' I reckon we kin stan'
hit."
Bill surveyed him admiringly. " Tom," said he,
"er inwenter hisse'f cain't beat ye on thet."
And so it was. One day when they had the
premises clear they removed the top planks and
greased the floorway to the bottom of the hill, until
a squirrel would have found it difficult to navigate
it. Then they restored the planks, and waited. But
A BORN INVENTOR. 219
no cyclone came. Nanky Gunner surveyed the
structure many a day curiously, but she asked no
questions. To a neighbor she said once, " I cain't say
thet I see edzactly as how ther thing es gwine ter
work J but Bill es er inwenter an' he knows. He says
thar ain't no use en gittin' skeered uv cycleones an'
ther like." It is probably not true that the boys
prayed for a storm, but every wind raised hopes in
their bosoms, and not a cloud passed but brought
suggestions.
'^ Bill," said Tom one night as they lay awake, " I
reckon hit 's all right, but 'pears ter me we hed n't
oughter take no chances j we oughter know."
Bill was silent, trying to catch the line of Tom's
thought. It was beneath the dignity of an inventor
to ask suggestions.
Tom continued: "Wen we war over ter Macon
las' ye'r 'ith ther cotton, ye ricolleck how they used
ter ring ther bells an' turn out ther thing ter put out
fires 'ith w'en ther war n't no fire ter put out ? Er
feller tole me they war er-practzin' ter know jes w'at
ter do ef er sho 'nough fire war ter come erlong.
Looks like we oughter practiz fer cycleones. Ye
know Grandpa es contrairy, an' Ma es pow'ful
hefty — " Bill was all excitement in an instant, and
sitting up.
"Tom," said he, "let's try hit ter-night." But
Tom's judgment was cooler.
220 ^ BORN INVENTOR.
"Hit won^t do ter-night. Thar ain't no win', an'
Ma 'u'd never let us practiz on 'er lessen she war
pow'ful skeered. Wait tell er big win' comes."
Fortune favored the inventors. There came a
week of heavy rain and finally one night a terrific
wind.
A BOEN INVENTOR. 221
m.
" Nankee-e-e-e-e, Nank Gunner-r-r-r ! " The tones
were feminine and rang out shrilly in the morning
quiet.
Mistress Gunner came to the door of the shed-
room, late the haunt of the born inventor. She had
been washing clothes, and her sleeves were rolled up,
exhibiting short, fat, red arms.
"Howdy, Cis'ly Toomer, howdy. 'Light,'' she
answered back. Cis'ly Toomer guided her thin plow-
horse under a tree and slid to the ground. The
breeze was swaying some garments hanging on the
clothes-line that she had to stoop to avoid as she
approached. Nanky wiped her hand upon her apron
and welcomed her.
" Come in, come in," she said. " Hearn ye war
done gone back ter Putnum. Lemme wring out these
hyah shirts an' I 'U be done." She resumed her posi-
tion at the tub, and from time to time turned her
head as the conversation went on. Cis'ly looked
about her as she took her seat, and got out her snuff-
cup and mop.
" La, Nanky, w'at ye done 'ith Bill's things?"
222 A BOBN INVENTOR.
" Bill/' said the woman at the tub, shaking her
fat sides a little, " ain't er-inwentin much these
days."
" How come ? "
" Well, Cis'ly Toomer, hit 's er long story. Hit aU
come uv ther cycleone erwhile back an' Bill tryin' ter
inwent suthin' ter beat hit."
" La sakes, an' would n't hit work?"
" Work ? " Nanky Gunner rested her hands on her
tub and looked around quickly. ^' I reckon ye never
seen nuthin' work like hit. Hit mighty nigh worked
me an' Pa ter death."
"Nanky, hush!"
" Fact. Hit 's piled up thar behin' ther house now,
but hit ain' nuthin' hke it war w'en hit war fixed up
an' ready fur cycleones."
She described the invention as it had existed, and
as she became conscious of the rapt attention of her
visitor, she exerted her full powers.
"Now," she continued, "hain't nobody on yarth
skeereder 'n me uv win'. One night atter hit hed b'en
er-rainin' fur er week an' ther win' war blowin'
pow'ful, I war settin' up an' Pa he war en bed
er-tryin' ter git ter sleep, w'en I hearn er boomin' en
ther a'r outside." She laughed at the recollection,
and as she wrung the last drop of moisture from a
shirt, faced her visitor. " Ever hyah one uv 'em thar
injines w'at bum coal 'stidder wood — boom-m-m ? "
A BORN INVENTOR, 223
She imitated the sound as best she could. "Well,
they done got ter runnin^ 'em on ther railroad out
thar back uv ther house, an^ ther first one come
erlong thet night an' ther boom in' started 'bout ther
time hit got en ther big cut. I never war skeered as
bad since ther Lor' made me. I run 'cross ther room
an' jerked Pa up en bed. ' Git up, git up ! ' I hol-
lered. Jes then Bill an' Tom come er-runnin' en too,
yellin' out, ^ Cycleone, cycleone I ' loud as they could.
I war mighty ready ter drop. ^ Save Pa, save Pa ! '
I hollered. Pa he half knowed w'at war gwine on,
an' he hollered, ^ Help, help ! ' an war gittin' out, w'en
ther boys got 'im back uv 'is shoulders an' unner 'is
legs an' run 'cross ther room an' shoved 'im foot fore-
most inter ther inwention. Pa he hollered, ' Heigh !
ho ! Nank ! Tom ! ' an' war gone. I got thar jes en
time ter see 'is white head go roun' ther ben', an' then
I hearn er kerchunk an' Pa holler, ' Hoo-oo-oo-oo ! ' "
Nanky threw the wet garment down in a chair and
shook with laughter over the recollection. " I orter
hed mo' sense ; but la, w'en er woman git skeered bad
she ain' got no sense 't all. Ther injine then war
right back uv ther house, an' ev'ythin' war jes
trimblin'. Bill he yelled out, ^ Git en, Ma, git en j
hit 's er-comin' ! ' I did n't wait er minute, but clum
up en er cher an' got en. Ther boys gimme a shove,
an' down I went 'ith ther candle en my han' berhin'
an' me flat er back. I reckon I mighty nigh fill ther
224 A BOBN INVENTOR.
Vole inwention, fur I war tecMn' ev'y whar. Skeered ?
The cycleone war n't nuthin'. Time I got ter ther
ben' I war full uv splinters, fur Pa lef some, an w'en
I slid roun' like er gourd over ther mill-dam an' hit
en two feet uv water down thar, I war screamin' ter
be hearn er mile. Tom an' Bill like ter not come, hit
skeered them so, but ther injine war then er mighty
nigh shakin' ther pans offen ther she'f, an' down they
come too, kerchunk en ther water. Ye see, they hed
stopped up ther ole daiiy 'ith planks an' dirt tell it
hel' water like er well, an' ther rain hed soaked down.
Ther place war dark as pitch, an' w'at 'ith me
er-screamin' an' Pa er-settin' over en ther corner
hollerin', 'Don't shoot, don't shoot!' hit like ter
skeered ther life outer Bill ; an' erbout thet time it
come ter 'im thet he had n' inwented no way ter git
outer ther thing. I war screamin', ' Git me outen
hyah, an' open ther do' ! ' an', ' Oh, Lordy, my back ! '
till ther boy war mighty nigh crazy."
Cis'ly Toomer had been rolling around her chair
convulsed with laughter. '^ Nank, how en ther worl'
did ye git out ? " she gasped.
" Tom clum back up ther spout atter mighty hard
work an' took er ax an' busted ther dairy open. Me
an' him pulled Pa out an' put 'im en bed. Yer never
seed sech er sight en yo' life like Pa's back. We pick
splinters outer hit tell broad day, an' all time 'im er-
hollerin', * Don't shoot, don't shoot ! ' Pa's back hed
A BORN INVENTOR. 225
er heap er little white scars on hit, an' I reckoUeck
hearin^ teU as how somebody caught 'im en er water-
melon patch w'en he war er boy an' filled 'im fuU uv
shot jes as he war crossin' ther fence. I reckon ther
splinters sorter brought hit all back ter 'im. He's
mighty wand'rin' en 'is min' nowadays." She took
an armful of clothes and went out to the line, where
she continued, elevating her voice : " Me an' Bill hed
it out en ther shed-room thar, an' w'en I got done
'ith 'im I kicked all ther inwentions ter pieces. ^ No
more inwentin' en this house,' says I ; ^ hit 's as much
as my life es wuth.' An' I put 'im ter work nex' day.
See them two boys over yonner en the cotton by the
p'int uv woods?" Cis'ly stood up and shaded her
eyes in the direction indicated by Nanky's extended
hand- " One uv them es ther * horned inwenter ' " j
and Nanky laughed lightly. " But hit ain' gwine ter
do no good, not er bit. Hit 's still er-workin' en 'im,
an' Tom let out yestiddy thet Bill done inwented er
thing thet '11 pick mo' cotton en er day than ten nig-
gers. I reckon time ther cotton es all en I '11 hev ter
move them tubs out ther shed-room ergin. Boys got
ter hev ther day, yer know, an' Bill es ther baby."
TOM'S STRATEGY.
^H A' yer gwine do wi' dat gun ? ^
It was Tempy Taylor who pro-
pounded the question, and she
did it in a tone of voice that
would have attracted anybody's
attention. She was a tall, heavy, masculine woman
of some two hundred odd pounds, and as she straight-
ened up over the washtub under the chinaberry tree
at the end of her cabin, she was indeed a formidable
looking figure. Her great black, muscular arms
drooped towards the scrubbing-board that reclined
in the tub, and her hands grasped a wet garment
upon which she had been expending some of her
prodigious strength. The person addressed was a
small old man whose face was pretty well covered
with a gray, kinky beard. He nervously shifted
the weapon he bore, an ancient muzzle-loading fowl-
TOM'S STRATEGY. 227
ing-piece with a wire-wrapped stock and reed ram-
rod, and affected an easy conciliator^^ manner.
" Des gwine down yander on de crik. Ole buck
rabbit down dere ev^y day ^bont dis time. 'Spec' he
oughter be en de pan time Mammy Jo' git heah en
de morndin'." The voice was drawling and childlike
in its modulations. He struck the right chord and
very skillfully. Mammy Jo' was the mother of the
Amazon at the tub, and had sent word of her
intended visit. The little old man moved off slowly
with a peculiar shuffling motion. " Dat 'possum
mighty fine back yander/' he ventured, with a motion
of his head towards the cabin, " but 't ain't gwine ter
las' all day." As he passed on his ear waited for a
harsh summons, but heard only the mutterings of
his spouse when she plunged a little more vigorously
into her work. The little strip of pine woods
towards which his face was turned seemed to
approach at a snail's pace only, but he was afraid
to change the gait he had chosen. As he stepped
at last into the friendly cover of the trees he stole
a backward glance over his shoulder, and then
abruptly quickened his motions. At the same
instant his whole manner changed, and when pres-
ently he heard his name echo through the wood,
borne upon the imperative tones of a pair of pro-
digious female lungs, he laughed aloud and held on
his way. The woman at the tub talked to herself.
228 TOM'S STRATEGY.
^' Mighty takin^ on 'bout Mammy Jo^ all er sudden.
Mammy Jo' ! Mammy Jo' ! Heap he kyar 'bout
Mammy Jo'/' she laughed scornfully. ^' Better be
out en dat patch pick'n' cott'n or en dem pease. Ef
hit wuz lef ter liimj dat steer go 'long ter town ter
be sold, 'stidder de cott'n-bag. I know him ; he can't
fool me. Gi' 'im time an' he go skipp'n' 'bout over
yonner at de Stillson place, de Ijin' little debbil."
She gave the shirt of her absent lord a vicious wring
as if she felt him in it, and lifted up her voice, obey-
ing a sudden impulse :
" Yon Torm ! ! ! " There was no reply except a few
echoes that mocked her. " He heah me," she con-
tinued, resuming her labors ; and then she resumed
too the thread of her revery. " ^ Morn din'. Sis' 'Lizerj
how yo' he'th ter-day, ma'am ? Morndin', Sis' Chloey;
I hope yer f eelin' berry well, ma'am.' " She imitated
the insinuating, childlike tones of her absent spouse
and repeated her scornful laugh. " Nex' time I heah
'bout 'im gwine over deir, I '11 bre'k ev'y bone en 'is
triflin' hide."
But Tom was thinking no longer of his industrious
and indignant spouse. He was rapidly moving along
the new line of departure from home and the haunts
of the buck rabbit in the creek bottom. He had a
shght limp, caused by a bale of cotton rolling against
his leg when he was young, and as he trotted along,
his funny little figure bobbing up and down caused
I. \
TOM'S STBATEGY, 229
the powder-horn under his arm and the shot-gourd
to swing out and collide fiercely.
A" couple of miles glided away thus, when suddenly
out from under his feet a rabbit scurried a few yards
away, and pricking up his ears looked back at the
rude disturber of his afternoon ramble. Tom brought
the gun down across his knee, cocked it successfully,
the hammer going back haK a circle with three dis-
tinct clicks, rested it for a moment against a tree,
aimed long and carefully, and pulled the trigger.
There was a deafening explosion ; the little old man
staggered back six feet, the muzzle of his gun
dropped to the ground, and the rabbit sprung high
in the air, turned a somersault, and fell dead. Had
there been a witness present, he would have observed
that the ground about the unfortunate animal was
more or less torn up for a space of twenty feet
square. Tom rushed in and secured his prize, then
carefully reloaded his weapon and resumed his jour-
ney. He had not gone far before a rooster, leading
his family among the dead leaves of some scrub oaks,
straightened up and uttered an inquiring cackle. At
the same instant a hound near at hand gave vent to
a prolonged howl, and barking fiercely galloped out
towards the new-comer. Tom entered a small clear-
ing, where stood a log-cabin with a garden at the
rear, guarded from a couple of cadaverous-looking
.pigs and the chickens by a split-picket fence reen-
230 TOM'S STRATEGY.
forced with brnsh. In the doorway sat a young
woman twisting her hair into the tight little rolls
which all of the kinky-headed race affect nider
the idea that straight hair will finally result there-
from.
^' How yer do, Sis' Chayney ? How yo^' he'th ter-
day, ma'am?" Tom had reduced his gait, and his
voice rose and fell melodiously. The woman laughed,
showing a mouthful of dazzling teeth.
'Tm tolerable. Set down. How yer do, Unc'
Term?"
" Des so, so." He laid the rabbit on the single step
beside her feet and continued facetiously :
" 'Spec' dat rabbit knowed wha' I wuz gwine, an'
des git right en de way ter come erlong too." The
woman laughed again. She stole a look at Tom as
she sat up with both hands over her head, engaged
upon a final knot.
'' How 'e know ? "
Tom raised his eyebrows and scratched his ear.
" He knowed I warn' gwine home," he said slowly,-
and meeting the comic look on his face with one of
intelligence, she threw her head back and gave
expression to her mood again. She did not thank
him for the gift, but took it up as she rose and
turned it over. " Rabbit fat," she said, and laid it
on the water-bucket shelf, just inside. "How yer
lef Aunt Tempyr'
TOM'S STRATEGY. 231
" She putty well/' said Tom, carelessly. He was
studying the toe of his foot visible through a rift in
his well-worn brogan. Again the laugh of the woman,
this time fj;om the inside of the house, reached him.
" Tempy gwine ter be heah en dis worP w'en you
an' me done gone," she called out. Tom passed his
hand over his face and looked as if the idea was
not a pleasant one. " Better bring yo' cher enside,
added the woman after a few moments, and he com-
plied. Then she began to busy herself straightening
things in the simple room, and as she worked the
conversation went on.
^^ Unc' Josh Sims gwine ter preach ter-morrow,"
she said. ^^ He come erlong heah des now an' he 'low
dat he wuz gwine ter turn all de niggers over 'bout
heah, 'count er dey debblement."
^^ Dey es er-needin' hit," said Tom. " Ef I had er
seen 'im I 'd er got squar' wid some, sho' 's you born."
^^ Oom-hoo ! An' I reck'n some seen 'im 'fo' now
an' ten' ter dat 'head er you. Maybe some done got
squar' wid ole man Torm." She was passing him as
she spoke, and gave him a sharp slap on the jaw.
232 TOM'S STRATEGY.
II.
When Tom, warned by the sinking sun, set his
face homeward, he took a course that would carry
him in or about the creek bottom to which he had
ostensibly set out. His way led him by the log
church in which a neighborhood preacher or elder
held forth every Sunday, except when the famous
and eccentric Rev. Joshua Sims visited it, which was
three or four times a year. As he approached the
edifice, which stood in a pine thicket and boasted of a
bush-arbor awning in front, he heard the voice of a
preacher breaking loudly upon the afternoon calm.
Never before had Tom known of a church meeting on
Saturday afternoon. It was the time universally
claimed by the negroes for town shopping or loafing
He knew of no one recently dead ; and, besides, had
any one died that late in the week the body would
have been saved until Sunday. In open-mouthed
astonishment, therefore, Tom approached at the side.
Sure enough '^ preaching " was going on. His first
impulse was to enter ; but, stiU suspicious, he placed
his eye at a crevice and looked through. There was
only one person within the church, and that was the
TOM'S STRATEGY. 233
Kev. Joshua Sims. Standing in the pulpit, he was
preaching to an imaginary audience the sermon evi-
dently prepared for the next day. Tom squatted
down on his haunches, and a broad, comprehensive
grin lighted his face as he realized the situation.
The speaker thundered over the book lying upon the
pulpit, slapping it vigorously from time to time, and
walking from side to side. Half of the Eev. Joshua
Sims's success lay in his figure, tempestuous delivery,
and thrilling tones, and he knew it. The sermon was
delivered in a shout, and wherever in a sentence the
speaker sought for a word he would prolong the pre-
ceding tone with "er-rer." Sometimes saliva from
his mouth flew over the pulpit into the vacant audi-
torium, as foam is tossed from a horse's mouth.
Tom had missed the text and indeed most of the
sermon, but this much reached him through the
crevice :
^' Shake off yo' weights ! Shake 'em off ! Dey es
good ter put on er race-horse w'en dey es er-trainin'
'im; but w'en de time come ter race dey must be
shook off. Ef yer gwine ter run er race wid de deb-
ble shake off dem weights, an' go et fum de drop er
de hat.
" Shake off yo' weights ! Shake 'em off ! Sister, ef
hit 's fine clo'es, shake 'em off ! Shake 'em off ! Dey
ain' no fine clo'es in hebben ; de angels don't wear
nuthin' but de plaines' kine. Yer can't run no race
16
234 TOM'S STRATEGY.
wid er long gown hangin' ter yer an' er bustle an' er
hoop er-floppin' roun'. Yer can't run no race wid
dem sacks an' higli hats an' fedders ter ketch de win',
an' dem high-heel shoes er-ketchin' en de grass.
Shake 'em off ! Shake off yo' weights 1
" Shake off yo' weights ! Shake 'em off, brudders !
Yer can't run er race wid de debble an' yer full er
whisky. Er wise man 'ill take er gourd er spring
water at de start an' go barefooted, like Moses roun'
de bush, an' trus' de Lord, when 'e want mo', ter
run er branch 'cross de road, like 'e does fur de mule
gwine ter town. Shake off de weights ; shake 'em
off!
" Shake off yo' weights ! How does po' sinner run ?
He runs wid de weights on, an' debble keep right
'long at 'is heels, so close sinner heah him laugh.
Dey trabble 'long tergedder, an' bimeby, 'f o' dey gits
ter de las' mile-pos', debble trip up po' sinner an' win
de race. Shake off yo' weights ! Oh, shake 'em off !
"How do de righteous run? He strips off de
weights an' cuts out. Mos' 'fo' yer know 'e gwine
run, 'e done gone; an' debble come erlong an' find
trail so cole 'e don't know wha' good man gone, an'
'e win de race. Shake off yo' weights ! yer all got
weights, an' I 'm gwine teU yer 'bout 'em. Deir 's
sump'n enside abeady tell yer, but I 'm gwine ter
tell out loud so ev'ybody know yer been tole." He
descended from the pulpit and marched up to the
TOM'S STRATEGY. 235
amen comer, still talking. " Here 's Bre'r Dan !
Here 's Bre'r Dan ! Bre'r Dan got weights, an' 'e
ain' shake 'em off. What es dem weights's name?
Too much corn en 'is crib fnr de size er 'is crop !
Too much cott'n en 'is crib fur de size er 'is patch !
Too many chickens en de pan fur two hens an' er
rooster! Too many shotes erbout Chrismus fur er
no-sow man. Shake off yo' weights, Bre'r Dan;
shake 'em off ! Oh, w'at es sech er sinner like ? He
like er one-legged grasshopper, w'a' think 'e es er-
jumpin' somewhar, w'en ev'ybody know 'e jes tu'nnin'
roun' en de road, p'intin' er new way ev'y time."
Tom rolled over on the ground outside and kicked
his heels in the air, convulsed with laughter. " Some-
body done got squar' wid Unc' Dan," he gasped. Then
he quickly rose up and glued his eye to the crack
again. The preacher was standing with uplifted
hands over another imaginary sinner.
" An' heah ole Black Aleck ! Bre'r Aleck got
weights. No chutch on Sunday fur Aleck. Mus'
fish tro'tline an' hunt squ'r'l. Mus' hoe de gyardin an'
hunt guinea-nes' en de jimsun weeds. Mus' do any-
thin' but heah de Lord's word, 'cept'n' ole Unc' Josh
come ter preach. Dem de weights Bre'r Aleck got.
Shake 'em off, er-rer! Shake 'em off! Oh, w'at es
sech er sinner like ? He like er las'-ye'r wasp 'en er
spider web — holler an' dry, an' 'is wings won't flop
no mo'.
236 TOM'S STRATEGY.
" An^ heah es Bre'r Clay. Heah es my dear Bre^r
Clay. Bre'r Clay got weights. Wat kind er weights
'e tryin' ter run wid? Lazy weights. Won't work
cott'n-patch, won't work tater-patch, won't work col-
lurd-pateh, won't work nowhar. O Lord ! did any-
body ever see er lazy man win er race ? 'T ain't gwine
ter he'p yer, Bre'r Clay, ter put on dem good clo'es
heah an' say ^ Amen/ an' ' Bless de King,' an' ' He'p,
Lord ! ' loud 'n anybody ef yer lef de ole 'ooman an'
de chillun ter work all de week. Shake off de weights,
Bre'r Clay. Shake 'em off ! Oh, w'at es sech er sin-
ner like ? He like er tadpole en er mud-puddl', w'at
done dry up 'f o' time come fur 'im ter drop 'is tail an
be er frog."
Tom went over on the ground while Black Aleck
was being dealt with, and he was too weak with
laughter to sit up during the time devoted to Clay.
Presently he heard :
"An' heah Sis' TiUy. Heah es dear Sis' Tilly.
W'at es Sis' Tilly's weights'? She got weights ter
shake off. She run roun' tellin' tales on oth'r 'oomen's
husbun's "
" Ooom-hoo ! "
Tom cocked his head up as he uttered this assent-
ing exclamation and listened.
"An' she scole "
"Bat's right!"
" An' mek troubl' ev'ywhar she go."
TOM'S STEATEGY. 237
" Somebody done got squar^ wid Aun' Tilly ! " Tom
ducked his head down and rolled over again.
^^ Shake 'em off, deah sister ! Shake 'em off ! Oh,
w'at es sech er sinner like ? She like er cockleburr
en de tail uv er dry cowhide an' gone ter markit ; no
good heah an' no good deir.
"An' heah Bre'r Torm." The preacher was right
over the crevice, and his voice sounded like thunder
in the ears of the startled eavesdropper outside.
" Little Bre'r Torm. He tryin' ter run wid big
weights. Wat es Bre'r Torm's weights? He heah
ter se dis 'ooman, an' yonder ter see dat 'ooman ; f us'
one way an' den ernudder, an' er wife down yonner
home t'ink 'e gone huntin' ev'y time 'e take 'is gun."
A horrible groan broke from the lips of the trembling
man without, and a cold sweat started forth all over
him. In a frenzy of terror he raised himself to his
knees and brought the old gun to full cock. Then
realizing what he was doing he returned the hammer
to a safer place with feverish anxiety. The Rev.
Joshua Sims heard nothing but his own voice.
"Shake 'em off, Bre'r Torm! Shake 'em off! Yer
can't run no race wid dem weights er-hangin' on yer.
Oh, w'at es sech er sinner like ? He like er snake en
de grass, an' fus' t'ing 'e know 'e gwine ter Ian' en de
fire wid 'is back broke."
Tom's hilarity was all gone. If that sermon was
preached on the morrow he might not literally land in
238 TOM'S STRATEGY.
tlie fire with his back broke, but his back would suffer
until the sensations would make it appear so. He
left almost as suddenly as his mirth. Gliding into
the woods he made his way to the bend in the road,
then, as if struck with a new idea, stopped short and
took a seat on a stump. In an attitude of profound
reflection he waited until, having finished his sermon,
the preacher came down the road with great dignity.
When he reached the vicinity of the little man the
latter started suddenly, looked over his shoulder, and
an affable and delighted expression dawned upon his
face.
" How do yer do, Bre'r Sims ? Lord, I wuz des er-
sayin' how I 'u'd like ter see Bre'r Sims, an' heah 'e
come er-walkin' right erlong.^' By this time he was
up and shaking the new-comer's hand. " Wha' yer
gwine dis time er day ? " The Rev. Joshua returned
the greeting, but with less demonstration.
" Well, I wuz er-gwine down ter Sis' Thomson's."
*' Wha' dat ! -' Tom threw up both hands in well-
affected astonishment. '' Man, night ketch yer 'fo'
yer git half way deir ! No, sah ; yer come erlong T\dd
me. Tempy 'U be proud ter see Bre'r Sims, an' I
'spect by now dat 'possum w'at wuz er-cookin' 'while
back done got done." Tom laughed, and slapped his
companion on the back. The Rev. Joshua Sims was
a large, heavy man, with a round, full jaw and a well-
fed look. It really mattered little to him where he
TOM'S STRATEGY. 239
spent the night, and the 'possum decided the point.
He suffered himself to be led off. Tom, having got-
ten himself well under way, continued gayly :
"I knowed dat 'possum up ter sump'n. Las' night
de rooster call me ter run deir quick. Bre'r 'Possum
wuz squattin' en de hen-hous' des like 'e been sont fur
an' come; an' heah 't is." Tom wagged his head
sagaciously. "• Oomp ! Ef I c'u'd des jump Bre'r
Rabbit now, 'spect he 'd he'p bre'kfus' mightily."
And he began to peer around with a great show of
eagerness.
" Did n't yer shoot erwhile back ? Heah somebody
over yonner 'bout Sis' Chayney's."
Tom shook his head. "'Spect dat wuz one dem
Gillus boys. Dey all time bangin' way over deir.
"When Tom shoot, sump'n gwine hang 'bout 'is clo'es."
He lifted the gun quickly and sighted it towards a
clump of bushes, then took it down.
" Dat mullein leaf down deir fool me. Look mighty
like er molly-cott'n." ^ But Brother Sims plodded
along behind the loquacious little man, his mind on
other things again.
iKabbit.
240 TOM'S STRATEGY.
III.
Tempy received tlie pair graciously. She was a
devout church woman on Sundays. Like most negro
women, she had infinite respect for preachers; and
this respect in the case of the Rev. Joshua Sims was
mixed with something of fear, for his methods in the
pulpit were exceedingly pointed and personal, as has
perhaps been gathered, and ridicule has a disastrous
effect upon ignorant people. She vied with Tom in
attentions to the shepherd. One placed a chair near
the door ; the other brought a gourd of water. One
took his hat and Bible; the other got him a fan.
Presently there came a lull in their ministrations, for
the reason that there was nothing left to be done for
the guest. Then Tom plucked the sleeve of his life
partner at an opportune moment and glided out the
back door behind the chicken-house. Puzzled by
this demonstration, Tempy looked out after him.
Presently she saw his head thrust out and his
features working mysteriously. She took a pan in
her hand as if on some domestic mission and went
behind the chicken-house also. Tom straightened up
TOM'S STRATEGY. 241
his little body and looked her fiill in the face. Her
mountain of flesh loomed above him, but his assump-
tion of a common danger had made him bold.
" Put dat 'possum on de table, Tempy,'' he said in
a tragic whisper.
"Wat I gwine ter put Mamma Jo's 'possum on
table fur ? " In her surprise and indignation she did
not trouble herself to subdue her voice. Tom grasped
her with both hands.
" Sh-h-h-h ! " he said. " Don't let 'im heah, Tempy " j
and his voice was just audible, while his features
shifted themselves as under the pressure of some
great emotion. " I wuz er-comin' 'long by de chutch
des now an' Bre'r Sims wuz en deir er-preachin' by
hisse'f, er-gittin' ready fur ter-morrer. He des gi' de
niggers de wuss raspin' y^ ever heah — Dan, an' Clay,
an' Aleck, an' Sis' Tilly—" A low chuckle escaped
from Tempy's lips.
" Need n' laugh ; he tech on you too."
" Wat 'e say 'bout me ? "
Tempy bristled up, but instantly looked around as
if afraid of being heard.
" Sh-h-h ! He gi' yer fits. Can't tell w'at 'e did say.
Somebody been tellin' lies 'bout yer, sho'. He am'
say nuthin' 'bout me, but 'e gi' yer de wuss sort er
name fur lyin' an' er-tarkin' 'roun' — "
" Be deir in one minute ! " Tom elevated his voice
as if he heard the Rev. Joshua Sims calling. " Put
242 TOM'S STRATEGY.
dat 'possum on table, Tempy." Snatching up an arm-
ful of wood lie went in, tossed it down noisily on the
fireplace, and joined his guest in the broad passage-
way between the two rooms of the little home.
Half an hour later the three sat down to eat.
There was a scarcity of crockery, and there were
only two forks, and all had to drink water from a
single gourd that hung by the bucket j but this did
not lessen their enjoyment of the meal. There was
plenty of hot, "crackling'^ bread, great generous
pones that crumbled under the eager fingers of the
men ; and there was the Opossum warmed over, with
its lialo of baked sweet potatoes, and all as brown as
a partridge's back. The eyes of the Rev. Joshua
Sims danced at the sight of this dish; and when,
having quartered the animal, Tom gave him a ham,
and poured the rich brown gravy lavishly over all, a
happier man could not have been found. Between
his attacks upon the tempting dish he began to tell
of his adventure some weeks before at a baptizing.
He had undertaken to put Sis' Tilly Hunter under
the water, when she caught him around the legs and
over they both went. The elders pulled Tilly out
by the heels, and Tilly pulled him. Tom laughed
loudly and slapped himself on the legs, and ever
and anon he would lay down his knife and, over-
come with the recollection of the scene, repeat the
performance.
TOM'S STRATEGY. 243
" Bre'r Sims," he exclaimed to Tempy between his
paroxysms, " es mighty hard ter beat." Tempy, too,
simulated a great laugh, but with poor success.
What raconteur is not moved by the success of his
stories? Stimulated by the unstinted applause, the
Rev. Joshua Sims was stirred to further endeavors.
"Bre'r Torm," he said, after a long pull at the
pitcher of persimmon beer that Tempy had remem-
bered to fetch, *^ sump'n happ'n las' ye'r en de drouth
dat beat dat. I wuz er-baptizin' Bre'r Dick Simins,
an' de crik wuz mighty low, lemme tell yer, 'cause hit
hadn' rain fur nigh outer eighty days; an'Bre'r Dick
said de worl' wuz er-gittin' ready to burn up, an' so 'e
wanter come inter de chutch. De water wuz dat low
we had ter dam up de crik, an' den we tuk Bre'r Dick
en, an' Bre'r Jerry Toler an' me try ter put 'im iinner.
Bre'r Dick wiiz er might' big man, an' de water did n'
'zactly git up over 'is stumick. Now yer know er
man got ter go clean unner 'fo' 'is sins wash erway,
an' Bre'r Jerry 'lowed dat ef 'is stumick staid out all
de sins gwine ter stick right deir — des like fleas
come up on er dog's head w'en lie go in de water.
Well, sah, w'en Bre'r Jerry see dat stickin' up deir, 'e
put bof ban's on hit an' bear down hard. Bre'r Dick
wuz hol'in' 'is bref deir, an' w'en ^e git Bre'r Jerry's
weight 'e blow water way up yonner an' say
^ Poo-oo-oo ! ' an' 'is foots an' head pop out. Bre'r
Jerry put 'is foots back an' I shove 'is head unner j
244 TOM'S STRATEGY,
den 'is stumick come out ergin. Den Bre'r Jerry
mash down, an' Bre'r Dick say ^ Pooh ! ' and pop up
'is head an' 'is foots des like 'e did fus' time. Some-
body on de bank yell out, ^ Tii'n him over/ an' we gi'
i'm er roll j but bless yo' soul, 'is back rose up like er
fiddle, an' by dis time Bre'r Dick wuz mighty nigh
full er water an' de dam done broke."
Tom was ducking his head about under the table
and screaming with laughter, and the Rev. Joshua
Sims stopped to join in. Tempy was waving back
and forth in her chair, clapping her hands every time
her head came down. Then Tom gasped for breath,
and clutched his guest by the shoulder, turning an
appealing glance upon him.
'' Hush, Bre'r Sims ; hush ! "
"Now, wuz Bre'r Dick baptize' 'cordin' ter de
doctrun, er wuz 'e not ? Some sez yes, an' some sez
no, 'cause deir nebber wuz er time w'en some er 'im
was n' showin' ; but Bre'r Dick say "
"Wat 'e say?" Tom gasped out the question.
" He cussed and say he ain' gwine ter try hit any
mo' ; an' dat settle hit wid me. Ef Bre'r Dick had er
had 'is sins wash' erway he 'u'd er been full er de
speret er righteousness an' not cussin' mad."
The last vestige of opossum, the last sop of
gravy, and the last swallow of persimmon beer had
disappeared down the throat of the distinguished
guest when the party went forth under the china
TOM'S STRATEGY. 245
tree and found seats. The moonlight lay soft upon
the cotton-field — a silvered silence under which only
the crickets and a single mocking-bird tried to give a
concert. Tom brought out a corncob pipe for the
preacher and shaved him tobacco from a plug, and
Tempy brought a coal of fire in the hollow of her hand
from the kitchen. The itinerant held forth for an hour
upon many subjects, but never to a more attentive
and appreciative audience. When at last they lay
down to sleep, Tom's sides really ached, and a ready-
made smile clung to his face until far into the night.
Even after it vanished it returned dream-summoned
and occupied from time to time its old familiar
place.
Next day the personal rebuke of the preacher burst
like a thunder-storm upon his hearers. Dan was
crushed. Aleck let his head go down upon his hands.
Clay slipped out of the door, as soon as public atten-
tion was drawn from him, and went home. Tilly
crouched behind the bench and hid herself. Few of
all the adults there escaped the lash. But Tom leaned
back against the wall with his eyes half closed and
Tempy by his side. A peaceful smile was upon his
face — the same smile that went to bed with him the
night before. When Dan was scored he said softly,
" Come back ter de fold, Bre'r Dan ; come back." To
Aleck he murmui*ed dreamily, ^'Face de light!
Face de light!" And when Clay received punish-
246 TOM'S STRATEGY.
ment, from tlie lips of the serene little fellow floated,
" Sinner, tu'n ; why will yer die ? — why will yer
die?"
When the Rev. Joshua Sims came in front of his
former host a close observer might have noticed that
the latter's half -shut eyes fell a little closer and his
thin sides swelled out with a prolonged breath ; bnt
as the preacher passed on, the eyelids slowly lifted
again, the sides sank gently, and something like the
restful sigh of a cow when she lies down floated out
from the haK-parted lips of the devout little man.
THTR BOOK IS DUE ON THE LAST DATE
STAMPED BELOW
AN INITIAL FINE OF 25 CENTS
WILL BE ASSESSED FOR FAILURE TO RETURN
THIS BOOK ON THE DATE DUE. THE PENALTY
WILL INCREASE TO 50 CENTS ON THE FOURTH
DAY AND TO $1.00 ON THE SEVENTH DAY
OVERDUE.
=/u'ia ;> J'^^ '
30Apr60RT
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mUtb i £t 4¥%^t^
APR 1 8 1960
APK 1 9 1950
nrp 12198E
U u vj i. ^ iwwv
nt ;;r^ NOV ;>o 1335
LD 21-100m-8,'34
GENERAL LIBRARY - U.C. BERKELEY
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UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY
