Bright days in the old plantation time / by Mary Ross Banks ; illustrated by James H. Moser

"Dats de lick, little Kllick!" -- Page 126.

BRIGHT DAYS
IN THB
OLD PLANTATION TIME
BY
MARY ROSS BANKS
ILLUSTRATED EY JAMES H. MOSER
BOSTON LEE AN D SHEPARD, PUBLISHERS
NEW YORK CHARLES T. DILLINGHAM
1882

f
71
COPYKIGHT, i88a, BY LEE AND ^SHEPARD.
All rights reserved.

TO

\

CHARLIE, JIM TOM, COUSIN LIZ,

l\ '

- AND

THE 'MEMORY OF JOHNNIE,

ftfjese Stories of out Cfjiltjfsfj Slo&entattw

ARE DEDICATED
BY
THE OTHER MEMBER OF THAT HAPPY BAND. BANKSTON FARM,
GRIFFIN, GEORGIA, 1883.

CONTENTS.
CHAPTER
INTRODUCTION ........ x L MY CHILDHOOD ....... 5 II. WHAT HAFPENT LONG TIME ERGO . . . .26
IIL THE 'POSSUM HUNT ...... 40
IV. LONG JIM'S STORY ....... 51 V. A RAINY DAY IN THE CELLAR .... 64
VL OUR CIRCUS . . . ... . . .79
VIL POOR LITTLE Crap ....... 99
VIII. A CORN-SHUCKING . . . . . . .114
IX. BET EXPRESSES HER OPINION. . ... 133 X. MY MOTHER'S BIRTHDAY PRESENT . . . .143 XL DISTRIBUTING THE GIFTS .... . 163 XII. BET IMPARTS SOME INFORMATION . . . .178
XIIL A COUNTRY RIDE ....... 197
XIV. A NIGHT'S IMPRISONMENT . . . . . . 2i& XV. EMMA'S PARTY ........

There*s a feeling within us that loves to revert To the merry old times that are gone?

INTRODUCTION.
[HE following chapters have been written at odd moments, and read to my grandchildren on rainy days, and such times as they needed
house amusements. From one of them came the suggestion, that
they should be sent to a publisher, and put into book-form, that other children might read and enjoy them. If they serve to make happy for a few hours another's little ones, as they have* made mine, I shall not have written in vain. Many of the incidents are chronicled just as they

J

2

INTRODUCTION.

occurred; others are somewhat embellished; but

all are told with the one idea of giving, to my

children's children, a correct view of a Southern

child's life in the days of slavery.

Should they fall into the hands of Northern

children, I hope some false impressions may be

removed; as I doubt not many think the negroes

were mere beasts of burden, and not the free-

from-care and happy race I knew them.

Lest it should be argued by some, that there

is a want of reverence for holiness on the part

of the writer, by the constantly recurring refer

ences to religious matters in the conversations

of the negroes, to such I will say, that I have

never known one negro in whom this religious

element was not strongly marked.

In their daily conversations to those who, un-

j

like myself, are not Southern born and constantly

|

associated with them, there would oft-times arise

almost a sense of horror at their familiarity, till

assured by a glance at their earnest faces, where

* reverence is depicted in the expression of every

INTRODUCTION.

3

feature, that no lack of veneration finds a dwelll ing-place in their cjevotional minds. Since I have grown older, and can jnore fully appreciate this intimacy with the "Great Unseen," I have often wished that with the white race He might be more a living presence, and less an object to be adored at a distance, and in places set apart
> for His worship.
To Southerners I have no explanation to offer: it is not necessary. They will readily recognize negro character, dialect, and love for their old owners, as we all knew and experienced it prior to the war.
With many doubts and ardent hopes, I send these simple chapters to the publisher. If they amuse,(1 am satisfied; if they charm, I shall be delighted. As an oW woman, 'almost done with earthly joys, I have found' pleasure in recalling these scenes of my happy childhood.
In all love of children, and sympathy with their joys and sorrows (and they have many sorrows, unguessed by^the older ones), again I

4

INTRODUCTION.

say, Go forth, little book, and, with thy stories

of long-gone days, lighten some, child's heart,

by making it for a little while forget its sadness,

and thy mission will have been well accom

I,

plished

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BRIGHT DAYS IN THE OLD PLANTATION TIME.
'CHAPTER I.
MY CHIiLDHOOD.
a child I could not have been attractive, basing attractiveness upon ^childish brightness and prettiness. I was not gifted with the regjular features, fair hair, deep blue eyes1, and waxen complexion of my sister Flora, nor with the merry, laughing nature which made Violet such a favorite. I was small, delicately framed, dark and plain, with
s

OLD PLANTATION TIME.
a broad, open forehead, which was, in my father's eyes, my only claim to beauty. This limited estimate of my comeliness seems to have been all I ever inspired, as I can call to mind no other favorable com ments upon my person. I don't know that my appearance in my younger years was a source of very great distress. Indeed, I think the " proprieties " weighed most heavily upon me. My old black mammy kept me , so continually reminded that " pretty is as pretty does," and I was so conscious that I oftentimes didn't do pretty, my looks were not such a constant source of rumination, as might have been with a vainer child, or one who had been more flattered.
I was never very strong, and remember often that my father would take my hands in one of his, and, passing the other gently

MY CHILDHOOD.

over my arms, would say sadly, " Such a

frail little frame! I could crush her arms

with my fingers." It was not until long

after, when I had grown older, that I

learned it was for this reason that I was so

freed from schoolroom restraints, that kny

books were so often taken from me, and I

was sent into the garden to play. Tiis, too,

explained why I was so frequently allowed

the perfect freedom of cou itry life at my

grandmother's, a short distance from our

city home.

For several years after entering school, I

was only permitted to pursue my s tudies for

two weeks; then followed two weeks of wild,

unrestrained country life, with the dogs and

horses, the negro children on the plantation,

and the retinue of pets my frequent visits

collected together, for associates and com

panions.

' :'

8

OLD PLANTATION TIME.

I was grandma's chief amusement, and acknowledged favorite. Through the earlier years of my childhood, she lived alone, my mother and another adopted child having constituted her entire household. This son, my cousin Will, was many years my senior, and was a college-student at the State University.
How well I remember grandma's visits to our home! Every one seems marked with a white stone in my childhood's recollections. What an air of superiority I took upon my self, as each alternate visit proclaimed it time to go home with her! Early in the morning of the days we expected her, how eagerly I ran down the broad walk through the flowergarden, took my seat on the carriage-step, whence I might look up .the long hill for grandma's well-known carriage, with " Slick Dick," or Yellow Alf, seated on the " dickeybox" as driver.

MY CHILDHOOD.

9

Long before "Blind John," or" Old Blake," the long-tailed black and the flea-bitten gray horses, had finished eating* their corn and
t
oats at home, I was at my post of observa tion. When at last they appeared in sight, with what a rush I dashed to the corner, * where I waited, in breathless impatience, to be taken into the carriage, that I might give grandma the first kiss of welcome!
Grandma's visits! what magic in the words even yet! Though long years have passed since she went to the " other side," and I am now a grandmother, my .heart beats glad and joyous as I remember there have been days when I, too, was gay and happy; and not a recollection of even a moment's passing shadow mars the memory of one of those cherished visits. The
a.
drive to her home was a beautiful ones though it seemed, in my childish impatience,

IO

OLD PLANTATION TIME.

much longer than when, my visit over, the carriage was brought out, and grandma pre pared reluctantly to take me back to school again. The entire way was dotted with pros perous farms and comfortable farmhouses, with their accompanying negro-cabins, ginhouses, and plantation blacksmith-shops.
Grandma's house was quite a pretentious one, built by my grandfather while most prosperous, with every reasonable proba bility of a long and happy life before him. But alas for human hopes, how often they deceive us!
Near his home, leading from the city, he had superintended the building of a long line of railroad, one of the first in that sec tion. Just as it was completed, and all were realizing how valuable an outlet it was for the products of their fertile lands, he met his death. On one of the first trips over

HOLM PAKK.

MY CHILDHOOD.

II

the road, as he was going in his gig to the city, in 'crossing the road an engine came upon him from behind a curve, and he was crushed beneath its iron weight.
My grandmother never entirely recovered from the illness which succeeded his death, and was ever afterwards a delicate, enfeebled woman; though she lived many years to bless us with her example, which taught, in its calmness and sweetness, such'beauti ful lessons of resignation and cheerfulness under affliction.
She owned a great many slaves, and in a large measure superintended the manage ment of two extensive plantations. My cousin Will being still in school, mother married and gone from the old home, her
- i
life would have been a lonely one, but for the fascination there seemed about her for young people. I remember few visits when,

12

OLD PLANTATION TIME.

for a part of the time at least, there was not young company of both sexes about the house; The only white person on the place beside herself was Mr. Reid, the overseer. Her cook, Mammy Liza, placed herself as head on the list of important personages of
t
the household; and Bet, her oldest daugh ter, was grandma's maid, and special ladyin-waiting. Twin girls, as black as coal, aged eleven, rejoicing in the euphonious
titles of Artemicia Clementina and Anasta>sia
Euphrosina, called for convenience, and as a matter of economy in time, Tiny and Siny, did the odd jobs about the house, kept the yards clean, and were my playfellows and special companions. I must not forget Daddy Miles the gardener, nor " Slick Dick " the driver, old Aunt Rina who milked the cows and attended to" the dairy, nor Granny Sabra who had fallen many years ago, and

MY CHILDHOOD.

13

\

crippled herself. During my mother's child hood she was her particular charge, and afterwards my own, as I grew old enough to take her place, and carry the meals, which Bet always arranged on a blue-edged plate, from grandma's table.
How happy were those long-gone days! Let me describe one, as but a type of my life at Holm Park.
My grandmother always rose early; and, though I shared her room, I never knew at what hour she' got up in the morning. " Growing children," she said, " need more sleep than old people get: let the child sleep until she wakens herself."
To her I was always "the child." I seldom remember hearing from her lips my name, which was her own; and she had opposed my bearing it. " Patse is an oldfashioned name; well enough for me to

.'sis

14

OLD PLANTATION TIME.

have it, but I wanted the child to have a prettier one. Her mother would call her for me, but I fear she will be ashamed of it as she grows older."
She and I generally breakfasted together in a small room adjoining her bedroom, opening out on a long veranda, which extended into a covered arch leading to the kitchen, where Mammy Liza reigned supreme.
In the spring and summer, as soon.as breakfast was over, we went to the garden, where the beds were all bordered with spice pinks and jonquils, and where the wall flowers and gillies grew thicker and larger than I have ever seen them since. The tall rosemary, sage, and lavender bushes, the feathery branches of sweet fennel, rise before

me as I write; and imagination revives the sounds of honey-bees and humming-birds,

MY CHILDHOOD.

15

which gathered around them in their pale

:

*

blue bloom and sweetness. Sprigs of all

are gathered and taken to the house, when

grandma has walked around, given direc

tions, and made inquiries (perhaps had a

great bowl of strawberries or raspberries

gathered) about the long rows of cabbages,

beans, and potatoes, which always seem to

have been perfect in her garden.

Upon our return to the house, she goes

in, or lingers at the dairy, where the broad

pans of milk are being strained, or the cream

skimmed for the day's churning. At the

front gate I espy Dick, with old Flax ready

saddled for me to mount ana take my morn

ing ride. I run for a slurt with which to

cover my dress,--grandma will not let me be

hampered with a regular habit in the coun

try ; and off I go for a gallop down the long

lanes, or ^through the fields by some short"

i6

OLD PLANTATION TIME.

cut, probably, to cousin Liz, who lives only

two miles away. I return with her in tri

umphant joy riding behind me; for one of

old Flax's greatest charms is, that he will

" tote double." A moment in the house to

ask if grandma has missed me very much, a

kiss to her from cousin Liz, and away we go

to the orchard.

Tiny and Siny follow with baskets, to

bring the luscious peaches or rosy apples,

the heavy bunches of purple grapes that lie

so tempting in their nests of green leaves,

and the yellow pears, almost golden in the

sunlight.

'

Ah! a child's life in the country is glad

and joyous; and I have always pitied city

children who had no country grandmother

to visit. A call at the kitchen to see

Mammy Liza, that we might induce her to

make some of those wonderful pies or

MY CHILDHOOD.
puddings for which she was so famous, was our next self-imposed duty, and gladly we performed it. Doubly happy were we, if permitted to roll the crust, or crimp the edge of a pie; and we always ate more heartily if the dessert was sweetened With a little of our own labor.
After this, we went into the breakfastroom, or out on the long veranda, where the woodbine bloomed in such luxuriance, sending from its yellow-throated trumpets such fragrance as filled the air with its rich perfume; and there we had a play with our dolls. 'Tiny and Siny were always called to join us, and such wonderful attacks of illness as we nursed our children through! What narrow escapes from drowning they had! indeed, from death in every conceivable form and horror, since last we had been together, and recounted our children's

18

OLD PLANTATION TIME.

adventures. But we soon tired of our quiet plays; we could not keep still in the country.
Old Aunt Rina, who was generally through with the dairy-work by this time, was to be visited, and, if possible, prevailed upon to let us spin a little. This was in the good old days of spinning-wheels and weav ing-looms, when every plantation had its cloth-room, where bolts Qf cotton and wool len cloth were woven for rough plantation wear. The spinning was done by the women who had young children, or by all when the days were too wet and rainy for out-door work. The dinner-bell generally summoned us from her cabin, and such din ners as we had! Served in the long diningroom, no epicure's taste was ever more delicately or abundantly supplied, and we invariably did full justice to the variety set before us.

MY CHILDHOOD.
Then a visit to Granny Sabra, who could only use her hands. The fall she had many years before had injured her spine, and paralyzed her lower limbs, so her whole life was spent in-doors. An industrious old creature she was, knitting always, the pro ceeds of which) supplied her with many little comforts; and once she confided to me the fact, that she had quite a'I store of silver sewed up in an old sock-foot, hidden away in her mattress, and that some day she wanted me to write her will. Her devotion to my mother was quite beautiful; and she always said " de Scripters nuver soun' ser sweet, an' Jesus nuver seems ser nigh, ez when Miss Mattie reads ter me, an' tells me 'bout Hiz preshus promises." My mother never paid a visit to her childhood's home without going to see old Granny, and always read and prayed with her. There, in that

2O

OLD PLANTATION TIAfE.

old negro's cabin, I have learned some of

N
the best lesson's of my life, and spent some

/

.

of the purest, happiest hours.

But the merriest time of all the day was

bathing and dressing hour, when, under

Bet's care, we were scrubbed, and almost

polished, for our evening walk, or per

haps visit to some near neighbor. Visits

through the neighborhood were of frequent

occurrence, and always pleasant; grandma

never leaving the children under her care,

and always taking her maid to minister to

her own and their wants. For genuine,

unalloyed enjoyment, a story from Bet was

placed first in our catalogue of pleasures;

and I really believe -she was as much

entertained as we were, in her repetitions

of these oft-told tales.

How she rolled her eyes, shook her

head, and made her voice tremble in her

MY CHILDHOOD.

21

earnestness, until we almost fancied she was something more than human, and at such times regarded her with a species of reverence! Like all of her race, she was full of superstition, and had a keen relish for all that was marvellous and improbable. Many of the stories with which she enter tained us were only told after exacting solemn promises that we would not repeat or refer to them in the presence of older persons, nor were we permitted to talk of them among ourselves, except in whispers. The more unnatural the incidents, the more binding was the secrecy enjoined upon us, Had we been older, these con ditions would have enlightened us as to the propriety of listening to such stories as our mothers would have withheld from us; but at that age the secrec^ itself was a charm we could not resist, and our faith ful promises were readily given.

...i.

22

OLD PLANTATION TIME.

In one of the spare bedrooms up-stairs, there was a high chest of deep drawers with glass knobs to them, and lion's claws holding the heavy brass rollers upon which it was mounted. In these drawers Bet said there were some curious things hidden awzy, which, could they talk, might tell some strange tales of long-gone times. In alluding to this room, or the furniture contained therein, her voice invariably as sumed a deeper tone, and her whole man ner became so solemn and impressive, that I held my breath in anticipation of further revelations, as she always concluded with such an ominous shake of the head, and general air of more to come, as made me feel " the half had not been told me." If at any time I was sent up-stairs on an errand, I drew myself to my utmost height, and, on tip-toe, stole noiselessly

" I saw the tears come into her old eyes." -- Page 23.

MY CHILDHOOD.

2$

past the closed door; and no power on earth could have induced me to enter that room alone.. Occasionally I had been into it, and once or twice had stood by grand ma as she sea/rched through the drawers for some missing paper, seeing just enough of their contents to feel fully convinced that all Bet's wildest stories were true. It was not until long years afterwards, t learned that the garments I had seen carefully stored away in those mysterious drawers had a romantic and sentimental story connected with them, but were guilt-
r
less alike of blood-stains or superhuman ' power. I once saw grandma take them out tenderly, and the tears came into her old eyes as she folded and laid them away

again ; , then she went straight to the graveyard, and sat beside my grandfather's grave, refusing, for the first time, to take

OLD PLANTATION TIME.

me\ with i

her.

Yes, those were the clothes

he * had worn when he came home from

the war with the Indians, the day he

claimed her as his bride. The high cocked

hat, with its drooping feather (moth-eaten

and broken now); the long topped boots,

with the spurs still strapped on them ; the

yellow buckskin knee-pants, with vest to

match ; the tight-fitting cut-away blue coat,

with its three rows of brass buttons, --

were all there. These, with his sword and

two great horse-pistols he had worn when

he acted as aide to the governor, and dis

missed the troops when the war was over,

all had a hiding-place in . the chest of

drawers; and 'twas these relics which had

wakened such sad memories as the thir

tieth anniversary of that day rolled around,

and made my grandmother weep for the

love of her young life, gone down to the

grave in his strength and prime.

MY CHILDHOOD.

25

It was not until I was several years older that I knew all this ; Bet having confided to cousin Liz and me a story, which I shall tell you, children, under a little selfcondemnation, as I do not advocate such flagrant exaggeration. But as I particu larly wish you to become acquainted with all Bet's peculiarities and characteristics, and to understand fully the relations whicll formerly existed between children and their colored nurses, I shall repeat, as nearly as I can remember it, the stoi ry she specially delighted in relating, and to which we listened eagerly.

CHAPTER II.
WHAT HAPPENT LONG TIME ERGO.
JOW, chillun, what I'm gwine tell you happent long 'fore my time ; but my granny 'members all 'bout it, an' you know she'z
er 'lidgous 'oman, an' wouldn' tell no lie; so you kin des b'leve it all come ter pass des like I tell you, kase she tol' me dese ve'y words.
"When dis settlew#/ wuz fust settled, dar wuz'n no school fur de chillun ter git no eddycashun : so de white folks all 'sem-

WHA T HAPPENT LONG TIME ERGO, 27 !

bled terguther, an* 'cided .ter butt' er

school'ouse, an' ter git er teacher ter come

boa'd roun' ermongst 'em, turn an' tJirn

erbout. Now, mars' an' my miss nuver

had no chilluns uv the'r own; an', Miss

Patse, 'twuz 'fore yo' ma wuz bawn, an*

my miss tuck her 'way frum Miss Marg'ret.

But dey allus wuz librul, so dey 'lowed

when der time come, dey'd take de teach

er ter boa'd wid 'em, same like ez dem

nabors what had chillun ter eddycate.

" Well, it all wen' on ve'y well. De

school'ouse wuz built, de teacher wuz

'ployed. Hiz name wuz Mr. Stchuctrt, an'

er mighty fine man he 'peared ter be, an'

i

pi

er good vhristchun man too. De way he

did wrassle in pray'r wuz powerful, granny

say.

" He'd ben in de settlement er most two i
year, erbout an' erbout, an' de folks all

28

OLD PLANTATION TIME.

lik't him 'mazin' well, -- I don' spec' ary soul ever sed er word 'ginst de man, dey lilvt him ser well, -- an' some de young gals wuz settin' up ter him right smart. He'd des stay on munts at er time at er house, twel de folks 'ould have sickness, or dey'd need hiz room fur cump'ny, er somebody else 'ould say dey 'wanted him ter come stay wid dem ervvhile. But sometimes he'd seem powerful sollumcolly, an' he'd s-i-g-h tremenjus ; an' one day, whiles he wuz er stayin' at Miss Ann's, she axt him what 'twuz dat 'peared ter trubble him ser deep. Miss Ann wuz er monsous han' ter make inquirashuns when she seed folks's concernments wuz er pest'in' uv 'em. Den Mr. Stchuart he owns up, an' tells her he had ben er 'ceivin' uv 'em 'bout hizse'f all dat time: he wuz er marri'd man, an' had er wife whar

WHAT HAPPENT LONG TIME ERGO. 29
he come frum, an' he wuz 'sturbed in de min' kase ( he couldn' be wid her none. Twuz mos' time fur him ter come stay wid mars' an' my miss, so Miss1 Ann she ups an' tells my miss 'bout de 'cashun uv po' j Mr. Stchuart's grievments : , so de fust night he come frum school atter he sot in ter stayin' at her house, my miss she tol* him ter write ter hiz wife, an' tell her she wuz welcome ter come stay wid him long ez he wuz under her ruff. De po' man seemed monsous hope up, an-' he'd laff an' talk ter nisse'f like hiz h! eart wuz'n nigh sW cumbersome ez it had ben. Atter he heerd frum his wife, he borryed mars's hoss an' gig, an' wen' ; atter her.
i She wuz er nice-lookin' little ''oman, but all de time she lookt skeert. Nobody didn' know what wuz de matter wid her, but sumpin' laid heavy on oat creetur's

OLD PLANTATION TIME.
min'. She lookt skeert all de time, but she lookt wusser skeert when he wuz 'bout. Granny had ter tote wood an' water ter de room, an' she wuz monsous kermilyer wid granny; she wan' no trubble in de woiT, like mos' all de po' white trash iz. When dey had ben at mars's 'bout two munts, I 'spec, way in de mid dle er de night sumpin' roused up my miss. She sot up in de bed, an' lissent erwhile, an' she heerd somebody er moanin' an' er groanin', an' er walkin' de flo'. Miss she woke up mars', an' tol' him he better see what all dat racket wuz 'bout; but mars' 'lowed ef Stchuart wanted enny thing he'd let 'em know ; so he turned over, an' wen' ter sleep ergin. But my miss kep' er hearin' de walkin' an' de talkin', de moanin' an' de groanin'.
" De nex' mornin', when granny wen'

} WHAT HAPPENT LONG TIME ERGO. 31

ter car'y de water ter de room, de do' wuz

shet, an' dey wouldn' let her in. Mars'

wen' up dar den, but Mr. Stchuart sed

dey didn' wan' nuthin'. He nuver cbme

down-sta'rs all de mprnin', an' de chilluns

nuver had no school.

\

" Dinner-time come, an' de moanin' an*

de groanin' still er gwine on. Mars' axt

him fru de key-hole didn' he wan' some
j
dinner; but he nuver got no ansur 'cep'

de moanin' an' de groanin', de viralkin* an* i
de talkin' yit er gwine on.

" Supper-time come, an' dar'jwa'n' no|

soun' but des dat moanin' an' groanin' an'

walkin' an' talkin'. All fru dat night my

miss could hear dem same soiin's. When

my miss tol' mars' 'bout how it had ben

gwine on all night, mars' he sed he wan*

gwine ter put up wid no sech doin's in hiz

house no longer. Ef Stchuart didn* wan'

32

OLD PLANTATION TIME.

ter eat, he wuz not de man ter make him eat; but he shouldn' starve dat po' skeertlookin' little creetur no longer. So he tuck er axe, an' he tol' my daddy ter fetch ernuther, an* he started up-sta'rs wid my miss at hiz heels.
" When dey got ter de do', mars' called Mr. Stchuart, an* he called hiz wife, but 'twuz all des ez still ez de graveyard, cep'pin' ev'y now an' den he'd hear somebody sorter giggle.
" Mars' sez, * Stchuart, open dis do' : ef you don', I will sholy bust it.' But Stchuart nuver opent de do', so mars' he busted. An', chilluns, what you reckon he seed ?
"Bless yer^soul, honey! dar wuz dat man er squattin' down on de bed wid hiz legs crosst und' him; an' dat little wife er hiz'n wuz er layin' dar flat uv her back,

WHAT HAPPENT LONG TIME ERGO. 33
wid her eyes wide open, er gazin' up at de ceilin's; an' ev'y time she'd try ter move er bat her eyes, he'd tell her ter lay still twel her sins wuz all furgive her. .Sez ee, ' You know what er sinner you >iz ben en yo' time, an' de Scripters sez " watch an' pray; " so now I iz gwine" ter watch whiles I makes you pray, twel it's proved inter me dat you iz er Christchun.' * Dat po' little 'oman dassent ter move, kase her husban' had er look in hiz eyes what tarryfied all de balance uv 'em when dey kotch him er lookin' at 'em. Hiz eyeballs wuz red ez fier, an' dey wuz er rollin' roun' in hiz head ; an', when mars' tuck holt uv him an' shuck him ter make him pay 'tenshun, he nuver notissed what he sed ter him, but des sot dar er grinnin' an' er gigglin' at dat skeert creetur.
1 An actual occurrence.

34

OLD PLANTATION TIME.

" Mars' sez, ' Miles, run atter yer Mars' Jeems, an' tell him ter come here quick.' I let you know, chillun, daddy wuz young in dem days, he wuz er spry nigger, an' he wuz er runner mon. Twuz 'fore he had de roomatiz, an' hiz j'ints wuz mo'
\ suple er en what dey iz now, an' he des ctit de dirt up dat red hill.
" Well, Mars' Jeems an' Miss Ann an' er pas'sel er de nabors what was dar, dey all come; an' sich er time ez dey had er workin' wid dem two folkses, an' er miratin* over Stchuart's 'gwines on! Dat little 'oman had er monsous whet er sickness atter dat, an' de folks in de settlew^Tz^ nussed her an' waited on her like she had er ben kin ter 'em ; but her husban' 'peared ez unconcarned 'bout her ez ef he nuver had er seed her.
" When she got better, den de argy-

WHAT HAPPENT LONG TIME ERGO. 35
ments liz 'bout what wuz gwine ter be done wid Stchuart hisse'f; kase mars' had done seed he wan' gwine do nuthin' but des grin an' giggle at folks when dey. tried ter git him ter tell 'bout his peddygrees an' ginnyrashuns 'fore he come in de settlkment. All de inquirashuns hex could make nuver fotch him no satisfackshun': so de nabors all met at de school, 'ouse, an' argyfied de case, an' de juries dey sot on him twel dey 'greed he wuz done gone clean ravin' strackted, an' wan' fit fur nuthin but de lunattick * arselum wfrar dey keeps de crazy folks.
"Mars'^an' Mars' Jeems, dey tuck him in de karidge, an' daddy he druv 'em ter Milledgebill, an' bless yer soul, honey ! stiddy uv hiz grievin' an' stressin' hisse'f 'bout de sipperashun frum his wife, he des giggled an' grinned at daddy when

OLD PLANTATION TIME.
he he'pt ter put hiz Sunday clo's on him; an' de word he fotch frum de arselum wuz, dat Stchuart wuz er walkin' de flo' er moanin' an' er groanin'. * Eve'y time he'd see some er de wimmen folks, he'd grin at 'em, an' tell em' ter git down an' pray der sins ervvay, whiles he wuz er watchin'.
" But I des tell you, chillun, I ain' gwine in dat room lessent I'z bleedged ter; kase eve'y time my miss sen's me in dar, I gits ter studdyin' 'bout dem folkses, an' 'pear like I kin hear dat man er walkin' an' er talkin', er moanin' an' er groanin', an' er gigglin' at me. Whar iz Miss Stchuart now, honey ? Dat's her monnyment out yan in my miss's graveyard, not fur frum whar mars' iz buried. Atter dey tuck her husban' erway, my miss tol' her she mought stay here an' welcome, kase

WHAT HAPPENT LONG TIME ERGO. 37
she nuver had no fambly ; but de po'
*
creetur nuver lived but th'ee year 'fore she died."
That old chest of drawers was an object of special terror to me for years ; and, had I seen it come rolling down the nar-,i row stairs, unaided, and alone, I think I should not have been in the least as tonished, so impressed was I with the power and importance of its contents, aside from its having been in the room during the time the Stuarts occupied it. After listening to this and similar stories, I invariably went to bed early, that I might get to sleep before grandma had the lights extinguished, and while the various members of the household were still passing through the room, so great a horror had I of being left alone in the dark, as at that time Bet assured me

38

OLD PLANTATION TIME.

something- .always reminded her of the Stuarts. A noise in the night from a cat or dog- outside filled me with fear ; the swaying of a limb against a window made me shudder, and draw the bed-clothes tight over my head, as I fancied in these sounds I heard the moaning, groaning, or giggling of Bet's crazy hero.
Long after this unwholesome impression had been made upon my mind, and my imagination had pictured a thousand ex aggerated fancies, a true version of the Stuart tragedy was told me. It differed in many minor points from the way in which Bet's granny had reported it, though her story was not without foundation.
A teacher by that name had become a lunatic while at my grandfather's ; and his wife, being almost friendless, gladly ac cepted the home offered her, and remained

WHAT HAPPENT LONG TIME ERGO. 39
r \J
i
with my grandparents the few years she survived her husband's sad affliction. She never wholly recovered from the frightful experience of those firs.t hours of her husband's lunacy, when she was confined in the room alone with him, but was a gentle, loving companion for grandma, to whom she was most warmly attached. In the family burying-ground there is a simple marble shaft, bearing her name and the inscription she selected, --" I was a stran ger, and ye took me in," which grandma had placed there soon after her death.
Mr. Stuart lived for many years in strong bodily health, at the asylum where, as Bet said, " Mars' an' Mars' Jeems lef him, an' dar he staid twel he giggled hiz life erway," always regarded as a harmless, though hopeless, maniac.

CHAPTER III.
THE 'POSSUM HUNT.
[RANDMA says we may go, boys : hurrah ! hurrah ! " I shout, join ing the boys on the lawn where they were busy gathering hickory
nuts, after having succeeded, with cousin Liz's united eloquence, in gaining grandma's consent to our joining them that night in a proposed 'possum hunt.
" Cousin Liz and I have just tried on Tiny's and Siny's new homespun dresses, and they fit us nicely. Dick is cutting fat
40

THE ^POSSUM HU&T.

lioghtwood now for our torches, and we are going to have a regular good time. I know

we won't get tired, but grandma says Dick

had better go with us ; so if we want to come

home he can bring us, and you boys; not be

bothered abput coming."

j

Johnnie, Charlie, and Jim Tom bore the

news more quietly than we girls did; in fact,

I think they were just a little disappointed

at my announcement, as I don't believe they

had an idea grandma would let us go. But

it had been agreed :hat her decisic n should

be final, and in our favor it was given.

Four hours seemed a long time to wait; and

we could scarcely think or talk all the after

noon of any thipg save the fun which we
f
knew was ahead of us.

" Persimmons are ripe good now," said

cousin Liz : " and you know the negroes all

say ' 'possums live c n 'simmons, an' rabbits

42

OLD PLANTATION TIME.

fatten o'n fros';' so, if we are lucky enough to catch one, it is sure to be nice and fat. If we do catch any, let's ask auntie to give us children a dining, and maybe Mammy Liza will let us help cook the dinner."
In what haste we were to get our supper! and when Mammy Liza yielded to our en treaties, and had it early, we ate but little, and had to wait for it grow dark enough to necessitate the use of our pine torches.
The dogs seemed as restless and impatient as we, and barked and whined in their hurry to be off.
Finally, Johnnie came out from old Gran ny's cabin, where he had been consulting some of the famous 'possum hunters as to the best direction in which we should go; and the glad summons, " Get ready," was given.
Our dresses were donned in a twinkling;

THE 'POSSUM HUNT.

43

Tiny and Siny standing by, their black beady

eyes gleaming, their thick lips wide open,

while their white teeth glistened in contrast

to their ebony skins.

It seemed too bad to exclude them from

our fun; so a petition, " Let them go too,

won't you, boys ?" jneets with the hearty

response, " I'm willing," from good-natured

Jim Tom.

" Yes, take 'em along," says Charlie:

" four girls won't be much more bother than

two of you; then, if we go through the

swamps, they can take you over on their
\
backs, while we go on with the 'possums."

" Good-by, grandma, auntie," is shouted

in chorus, and away we go.

Johnnie^, Charlie and Jim Tom, Big Frank,

Long Jjm, cousin Liz and I, Tiny and Siny,

here, there, everywhere, and Dick bringing

up the rear. ,

'

\

44

OLD PLANTATION TfME.

The dogs^rotted quietly along beside us, occasionally darting off into the woods, as some dropping nut or falling acorn made a rustle in the thick carpet of jiead leaves.
'jf
Thus we go, in pretty regular <forder, half a
mile down the road, through the " quarter,"
where we pick up another recruit or two to
our hunting force, and one more dog is
taken " into the fold." Old Rock, the big
bulldog, is here driven home by long Jim, as he assures Johnnie and the boys, who
plead for his company, that " Ole Rock's
>
nose iz er heap too stumpy ter hunt var mints : it's too short ter retch atter de scent uv 'em."

" N-n-n-now, Mas' Jackie, 1-1-les' go righ' d-d-d-dowrr here fr-fr-fr-fru dese here woods. Lots er s-s-s-simmon trees in de-de-de-de fence corners, an' I des lay us st-st-st-start er 'possum dar in 1-1-1-less'n much-time/' says stuttering Jake.

THE 'POSSUM HUNT.

45

" Keep still there, girls! Old Towse smells something."
" Just look at him now! He's all right! "
" Jowler's on scent! On ! bo' y, on ! " " Trump's on track of something! " On we go, with such remarks every few moments fr6m the boys or negroes. Each time the dogs "come home" again, as the scent proves different frqm the game we are searching. r " Yon' de 'simmon trees. De's er 'possum up dar, I lay" -- " I bet ol' Jowler'll fin' him." "Towse ain' gwine ter be berhine." A sharp, quick bark, a whine, head close down to the ground, tail in the air, pro claims Scott on trail, and away we run. No time now to claim the attention which usually falls to a girl's share. With our torches held high above us, the pitch drip-

46

OLD PLANTATION TIME.

ping on our sunbonnets and over our dresses, on we go, keeping close beside the boys.
" Jowler's treed ! Run there, Frank, with your axe! Cut him down, while we go on after Scott and Trump. You girls had better stop ! Keep Dick with you ! " shouts Johnnie, far ahead of his party.
We come up breathless, just as the first quick blow of the axe rings out on the air, while Jowler stands as if petrified on the spot where he first " treed."
We hold our torches high overhead, and shine the eyes of the 'possum, as he lies close to the body of the tree, where it forks into two large branches.
" You needn't play dead: we see you, and we are going to have you too," shouts cousin Liz, wild with excitement.
Just as the tree begins to sway, he runs

THE POSSUM HUNT.--Page 46.

THE ^POSSUM HUNT.

47

out to the end of a limb, and, wrapping his

tail tignt round it, swings his body way out

into the air, lets go, and tumbles down, head

foremost.

i

But Jowler is too quick for him, as he

springs forward before piggie finds his feet,

and, seizing, holds him fast till Big Frank

throws down his axe, and ends our victim's

freedom.

" Cut er pole, Dick, an' split de een' uv

it; slip he tail in dar, an' den ef he wanter

trabble, giv' him er free pass."

" Ki! but I iz glad de gals kotch de fust

'possum," says Big Frank, in which rejoicing

we cordially join.

A short consultation decides that we shall

go on after the boys, as Dick says the dogs

are on trail again.

Over hills and fences, through the woods

and briers, we make our way, till we come to

the swamp, all wet and marshy.

r
OLD PLANTATION TIME.
" Here, Miss Liz, git up on dis log, an' den lip on Siny's back, an' let her tote you over. Miss Patse, you git on Tiny's back, an' dey'll lan' you safe over, kase you mus'n' git yer feet wet. Yer gran'ma would'n' let yer come no mo', ef yer wuz ter git sick dis bout. Bless dem chillun, dey duz 'joy de fun !"
Thus directed, we mount our carriers' backs, and are safely "toted" over. Tiny and Siny drop their burdens, and we all gayly start ofF-agaift. Away in the distance we hear the dogs barking, the boys cheer ing, and occasionally see the torches gleam ing through the darkness of the dense woods.
Presently the axe rings out again, and we stop to listen. " Dat's Long Jim's lick, sho's you bawn ; an' when he cuts, dar's sumpin' ter cut fur," says Big Frank.

THE 'POSSUM HUNT.

f

Sure enough, just as we' reach the spot

where the boys are standing-, the tree falls,

the 'possum jumps, and Towse seizes him.

Then follows a comparison of i sizes, the

pole is split deeper, and number two's tail

is slipped into place.

A vote is then taken as to whether we

shall continue our hunt, or return to the

house after resting. A rest receives the

largest vote, and so our hunt is ended. A
f
fire is soon built; and we draw around it,

seating ourselves on the stumps and logs

near by, while from the boys and negroes'

pockets, ground-pease and sweet-potatoes

are emptied on the ground, ready for roast-'

ing as soon as the wood burns to coal

and ashes.

I

Dick is appointed cook, so supplies him

self with a long stick with which to punch

the fire, and draw out the roasted refresh-

OLD PLANTATION TIME.
ments: the boys take out their knives, and commence whittling. Thus seated, we unanimously appoint Long Jim story-teller for the occasion ; as, waiting patiently for him to begin relating some adventure in which he has participated, we sit in almost breathless silence, the quiet only broken by the crackling of the flames, or a fruitless attempt at liberating itself on the part of our game, which we all guard carefully.

CHAPTER IV.

LONG JIM'S STO^Y.

'CLAR' 'fore goodness, chillun,

I don' skasely know what ter

tell yer. Duz yer all 'member

dat Chris'mus when yer come

ser nigh bein' drownded? Ef yer don', I'll

tell yer 'bout dat; an' Slick Dick here, he

wuz dar !too; so ef I don' tell yer de trufe,

an' de gorspul trufe at dat, he kin piclf

!



i

me up, an' rj>ll me over, an' den set on

me, which yer all know 'tain' no ways

natchul fur him ter sarve my kyarkass dat

51

52
ways.

OLD PLANTATION TIME. I
X
Yer ; hear, Dick ? Keep yer yers

open, boy.

" Well, all de kin fum Alerbam wuz

kum, an' yer know dar wuz er monsous

ginerashun uv 'em. My Miss, an' Miss

Ann, an' Miss Betsy, an' Miss Marg'ret, an'

Mars' Billy Simon, an' Miss Kermiller, dey

wuz all gwine" ter have all de fam^'lies ter take dinner wid 'em one day. Dey wuz er

gwine ter one nuther's houses mo'n er week.

De town kin, an' de country kin, an' de Aler

bam kin, dey wuz all er havin' er Chris'mus

sallybrashun, an' you kin des b'le've me er

not, but dey wuz havin' good times, sho.

" Us niggers wuz proud uv our white

folks, ennyhow; an* de mornin' we druv fur

town, we lookt prime, I tell yer. Fust, dar

wuz my Miss's karidge, wid Dick er drivin',

an' er nuss settin' side er him on de dickey-

box : she come fum Alerbam, an' er mon-

i

LONG JIM'S STORY.
sous putty yaller gal she wuz too. Yer 'member dat gal, IIDick ? Den dar wuz Miss
Ann's karidge; cl' York er drivin', an' ol'
s
Aun' Sindy settin' long er him. Den Miss
.Marg'ret's karidge , wid Ellick er drivin'; Miss Betsy's karidge, w d Plater drivin'; Miss Kermiller's karidge, \ id Riker er drivin'; Mars'
Billy Simonses caridge, wid Kumsey er drivin'; yer ma's karidge, wid Bill Pop er drivin'; yer aun' Ma'y Ann's karidge, wid Bob er drivin'. Den come de karidge wid de nusses, an' de little babies, *wid ol' Winny ter keep c e gals min'in' de chillun like dey orter, wid me er drivin'; an' las' uv all, de two baggidge wagins, wid little Tim an' Young York er drivin' dem. It wuz quite er pe -ceshun, yer see. Ev'y one us drivers lad er nuss settin' side him, kase dar wuz lots er chillun in dem days, an' none Uv 'em wan' lef berhin'.

54

OLD PLANTATION TIME.

" Mas' Jackie, yer pa come out, an' gin us all ar Chris'mus toddy, an' er pair er good warm gloves ter drive in, kase it wuz monsous col' an' cloudy.
" Mas' Charlie, yo' ma was dar er-reddy; her an' my Miss come de day befo', when my Miss wen' ter town ter shake han's wid all de kinry.
" Miss Liz, yo' ma, an' fam'ly, wuz at Miss Ann's, likewise Miss Frances, he'pin* ter fix de goodies, an' churn de sillybub, an' dress de tables, kase we wuz all gwine dar ter dinner dat day.
" Putty soon atter wre got started, de mis' commenct ter gittin' thicker, an' de big draps ter comin' down cashunly; den it commenct thund'in', an' de lightnin' come streakin' erlong like summer-time. Us drivers all got down, an' buttoned down de curtains, an' pulled de blankets up over our knees good,

LONG JIM'S STORY.

55

.an' h'isted de amberills, an' gin 'em ter de misses ter hoi' pver us.
" De rain got harder ev'y minnit, twel it lookt like de ellyments wuz done turned loose, sho nuff. jit didn' rain in draps, it come down in sheets, mon : it wuz like pourin' water outer buckets. We wuz five mile f um town, an' had five mile yit ter go."
" Taters done[" said Dick. " Les* all take er tater.j Golly, how dey burns!" saying which he brushes the ashes off, and blows on the hot potatoes, occasionally pinching off a burning end without scorching his
i
fingers, in a manner peculiar to negroes, and which I have never known a white person to succeed in accomplishing.
" Dey's mighty good yaller yams," con tinued Dick, while he handed the goobers and potatoes to Long Jim's delighted audi ence; "an'.I'z glad dey iz ser hot, lease I

OLD PLANTATION TIME.
mos' feel de col' chills runnin' up an' down my back now, hearin' Long Jim tellin' dat tale, an' I 'members how col' dat rain wuz. He'z tellin' de trufe, too, des like it happent, sho's you bawn ter. die."
" Well, we had ter go powerful slow," he resumed, " kase some de hosses didn' like de lightnin' no how. Dat big black Satan yer pa useter drive, Mas' Jackie, he'd des stop, an' lay hiz yers 'ginst hiz head, an' whicker ev'y time er streak come erlong, an' shake hizsif twel de buckles on de harness 'ould rattle, mon ; an' it kep' Bill Pop bizzy ter drive ertall dat day, he wuz ser skittish.
'" Bymeby I 'gun ter think, how we gwine ter git over dat shoaly branch what we got ter cross, -- dat Beaver Creek? De quicksan' iz mazin' bad dar, an' de rocks des below makes it monsous dangersome. But I nuver sed nuthin', des kep' er thinkin'.

LONG JIM^S STORY.

57

Atter while we come ter de creek; an' when I seed Slick Dick here stop, I knowed dar wuz trubble erhead, kase bjin' John an' ol'
j
Blake wuz sho-footed beas'es, an' Dick knowed ev'y inch uv de crossin'. But dat big rock way up de hill dar, hit wuz mighty nigh kivered wid de water, an' 'twuz er rushin' roun' like struckshun.
" Dick nuver hawked long," kase he seed it got wuss ev'y minnit, so he plunged in. De yuthefc- drivers, dey all follered Dick; but dem annymuls gin some monsous surges ter git dem human creeturs over safe! I wuz er drivin' dat new-fashun, low-bottom, heavy karidge, wid de glass all roun' it, what yer pa had des bort, Miss Patse; an' yo' ma, you wuz wid her, she wuz ser skeere i she made Bill Pop git down, an' wave ter make me stop. De karidge wuz ser low down ter de groun', she wuz feared de water 'ouldj break

58

OLD PLANTATION TIME.

de glasses, an' wash de chillun down de creek. So I turned roun', an' wen' back up de hill ter my Miss's planashun house, whar Big Mer-rier lived. De chillun wuz all hongry an' er cryin'; an' dey got wet, spite er all we could do ter keep 'em dry. Der mothers wuz all gone on befo'; an' dar dey wuz, fo' little chillun an' th'ee young nusses, all on ol' Winny's han's. But dat ol' nig ger allus did have sense, -- my Miss raised all her niggers dat ways, -- an* she knowed des what ter do. She had er cow milkt,
^,
an' fed dem chillun, an' got one de chillun's trunks outer de baggidge-wagin, which I tuck dem back wid us, an' dresst 'em all dry; an' den dey wen' ter sleep on Big Mer-rier's bed.
" Den I tuck one de hosses, an' swum de creek, an' tol' 'em de chillun wuz all safe, an' dey needn' be oneasy 'bout 'em. But

LONG JIM'S STORY.

59

dey wuz 'stresst 'bout dem chillun, I tell yer.
" 'Bout de time I got ter Miss Ann's, we lookt down de big road what comes by de meetin'-'ouse, an' we seed Talbot er comin' on one Miss Frances's hosses. Den we knowed sumpin wuz wrong dat een' uv de line. Some er Miss Kermiller's cumpny wuz er comin' ter de dinner in Miss Fran ces's karidge, an' de creek wuz ser swif, an' de quicksan' ser deep, dey stuck right in de middle uv de crossin'. Talbot done hiz bes* ter fetch 'em fru, but de hosses gin one turrerble lunge, an* jpopt de tongue right in two. He cut de harness off, an' swum out, an' fotch de yuther hoss on ter de house, an' lef de karidge full er folks settin' dar.
" Well, we flung de harness on de bigges' pair uv de mules, an' er whole team er us niggers wen' ter he'p de karidge outer de

60

OLD PLANTATION TIME.

s
mire. We had ter hitch de mules ter de karidge,' an' put de tongue in, all under de water; but we done it, an' wre pulled 'em out too. Twuz er monsous wrench ter dem timbers, kase ev'y minnit de karidge had sunk deeper in de mud.
"Well, dey all got ter de house safe, but dey wuz wet. Miss Ann had done had big fires made in all de rooms, an' dey all changed der clo's an* wen' ter dinner. But dey wuz all oneasy, like. Some uv de cumpny couldn' come nohow. Mas' Chawls and Mas' Bill Hen had derranged ter come on later in de buggy, an' nobody didn' know whar dey wuz.
" Bymeby it sorter hilt up er rainin'; an' we wen' atter de chillun, me an' Bill Pop, wid er high karidge. We met Mas' Chawls an' Mas' Bill Hen er comin' up de hill er walkin', all wet an' er mos' drownded. De little

iLNG JIM'S STORY.

*61

mare dey wuz er drivin', she wuz des washt down de creek, clar pas' whar de fence run, de buggy kotch 'ginst er rock, an' de mare she drownded. Dey wuz washt out'n de buggy, an' mighty nigh kar'id erway furever, atter de mare.
"When we tuck de chillun home, der mothers dey hugged 'em, an' cried over 'em, an' had er mighty time 'joicin' dey wuz all tergerther ergin.
" Ol' i Mars' Jeems, he rung de bell, an' called up all de drivers an' de nusses what had be'n ser 'sposed ter de wether, an' sez 'ee, ' Le's have prayer.'
" But Miss Ann riz up, an' sez she, ' Let 'em all eat, an' put on dry clo'es fust: dey'll all be down wid de newmoney ef dey stop ter pray now, whiles dey iz ser wet. We kin all .say * Thank God,' an' we duz thank him ; but dese niggers kin pray mo' com-
\

62

OLD PLANTATION TIME.

fer'bler wid full stummucks, an' in warm, dry clo's.'
" Miss Ann wuz right too : we had mo' ter 'turn thanks fur, kase de dinner she gin us dat day wuz er corshun. But ol' Mars' Jeems, he prayed dat evenin' twel you'd er thort Jesus hizse'f orter er come dar ter supper dat night, he seemed ser kermilyer wid him.
" Now, chillun, it's time fur us ter go home. I'z feared my miss'll be oneasy 'bout yer."
So we gather ourselves together, fall into line, and begin our homeward walk. Dick heads the procession this time, in honor of carrying the 'possums, and Big Frank falls behind.
Just as the old clock chimes one, we get into bed, but are too full of our first 'pos sum-hunt to go to sleep till grandma has

LONG JIATS STORY.
\
received a detailed account of the night's adventure, and repeated assurances that we " never did have such a good time, in all our lives put together."

CHAPTER V,
A RAINY DAY IX THE CELLAR.
|HE rain for two days has con tinued to pour down almost incessantly, and every in-door amusement has been exhausted.
The weather prevents cousin Liz from com ing to me; I am worn out with playing dolls, and sewing on the quilt I am mak ing under grandma's directions has grown monotonous. The finishing of this same quilt is to be celebrated by a grand quilting-party, composed of all the neighbors,

A RAINY DA Y IN THE CELLAR.

who are to bring their children near my age

to spend the day with me, while their

mothers do the quilting.

As I have grown so weary of the house,

grandma suggests that I go down into the

cellar, where Bejt is engaged in cleaning

the silver, and amuse myself there with

her. This is

business j in



I

which

Bet

especially prildes lerself; and the little old-

fashioned teaspoons, with which grandma

commenced housekeeping, are worn almost

half away with the oft-repeated rubbing. I

quickly recogniz the fact ii f the weather's affecting Bet's s >irits, in the same way as

my own have yi Ided to its depressing in-

fluences; and s e gives me a warm wel-

come, as, drawing a low chaIir near the fire, she bids me sit reside her. The old cellar

seems doubly d; rk and gloomy oh such a

day; and even the big wood fire, which

.i i

.1, -,

66

OLD PLANTATION TIME.

burns so brightly, fails to do more than light up the dark corners fitfully, though it is reflected so brilliantly in the old-timey urns and pitchers, which have just come from under Bet's polishing hand.
" Now, Bet, I know how you learned to scrub me so in my bath: you think I have no more feeling than a coffee-pot when you get hold of me. I almost wonder that you don't sometimes take a corncob, after you have rubbed so hard with the towel, and give me a ' dry rubbing/ like you do the plank floors."
"Why, bless yer soul, honey, you duz look ser white an' pale, dat's de reason I rub yer ser hard. I duz luv ter see chillun's cheeks red ez er Polk-ber'y, myseT; an' atter I scrubs yer, dat's allus de time my Miss sez, ' Why, de chil' 'gins ter look right rosy an' healthy.'"

A RAIN DA y IN THE CELLAR.
"Don't tailk about bei ng sick, Bet: I , came down he e for you to tell me something funny, one of your real jolly stories ; won't you, please?" , I
"La! honey, do des lissen at dem dogs! Dey barks like de whole worT wuz er coniin* ter er een'. I'z gwine ter see what's de
i matter wid 'em, myse'f."
A look through the window reveals a sight at which it is no wonder the dogs are clamorous.
A tiny hump-backed ox, in the last stage of starvation, every rib easily counted even at that distance, drawing a wheezing, creak ing, forlorn wagon, or rather cart on two! wheels, with a white cover stretched over a rickety frame, was the sight which greeted our eyes. At first we thought the ox was wandering at his own free wil, in search among the neighboring barnya'ds for the

68

OLD PLANTATION TIME.

provender he seemed deprived of at home. But in a moment we heard a " haw, ghee, there," in a woman's voice, and knew the command proceeded from beneath the cloth cover.
At a short distance behind this vehicle, a man clad in rags, and a boy in a marvellous conglomeration of patches and rags, fol lowed, leading a cow, which in point of flesh was a .fine match for the skeleton steed just gone on before.
" Yon go dat po' Grimshaw gang, moving ergin. 'Bout dis time ev'y year dat po' little steer has ter pull dat white trash roun' somewhars. I know Fz glad dey'z gwine off er my miss's lan', kase I wuz 'shame ter have 'em on de perzeshuns. I des fairly b'iled ev'y time one dem Grimshaws come roun' my miss. Dey wuz turnully tellin' some powerful 'stressin' tale 'bout dis one

J

Yon go dat po' Grimshaw gang, movin' ergin." -- Page 68.

A RAINY DA Y IN THE CELLAR. 69

wid de roomatiz, an' dat one down wid de

pleurissy, an my miss wuz corntinnerly

doin' sumpin' fur 'em. One time she sont

3 .

I



me dar wid er whole gerlashun ler things

fur 'em, an' bless yer soul, honey, when I

got dar, dey wuz ent'ainin' cumpny on my

miss's corntybushuns. I des made out I

wuz gwine some'Ovhars else, so I whipt down

de road, an' clum de fence, an' lit out de

nigh-cut-th'ough, an' come home ter tell

my miss des how sateful dey wuz: so nex'

time dey come wid de roomatiz an' de pleu

rissy tale, my miss she ups an' tells 'em, ef

dey'd straighten out der j'ints wid er little

hard labor, dey'd keep out de col' weather

better, an' not be ser subjec' ter dem bad

spells.

" Now, I s'pose dat's 'suited em, an' dey'll

go squat down on somebody else's lan' twejl

_

^^

i

i

nex' Chris'mus. De^ r allus* min* me er som

70

OLD PLANTATION TfME.

folks what I heerd erbout in Alerbam onct,

what lived close ter my miss's brother, de

gi^'rul. Dem folks moved erbout ser much,

twel one ol' rooster what dey had, ev'y time

he'd see er kivered wagin comin' down de

road, he'd des lay down on hiz back, an'

stick hiz foots up in de air, an' wait fur

somebody ter come 'long, an' tie hiz legs

terguther, reddy ter be flung in de wagin

*

Hr

fur de fam'ly ter move.

*

" Dat's de trufe, chil', kase Granny tol'

me so; an' she done ben ter Alerbam

'long er my miss.

" I ain' no po'-white-folks nigger myse'f,

I natchully 'spise 'em. When dis settlew^

wuz fust settled, dar wuzn' none uv }em

'bout here; but wharever dar iz rich white

folks, po' ones iz boun' ter come.

" Some irv 'em allus comin' ter my miss,

axin' her ter let 'em live in dat house what

A RAINY DAY IN THE CELLAR. 71
she had built fur er horspiterble, dat time when us niggers had de tarryfied fever ser bad, an' all de sick ones wuz tuck dar ter be nussed an' 'tended ter.
" Dem wuz one'ous times, honey, sho's you bawn. De doctors all sed 'twuz kase dey made ser menny skervashuns fur de raleroad, dat de niggers wuz all sick ; but, bless yer soul, honey, I don' see how heavin' up dat dirt could er tarryfied dem niggers so ez ter er give 'em de fever, kase menny-er-one uv 'em had done dug wid er pick-axe, long fo' dat raleroad wuz thort 'bout.
" Dem po' niggers died too, heap uv 'em. De doctor, Mars Ab, yer cousin Ab, honey, he ain' no 'lidgous man, but I 'clare he wuz good ter dem niggers, Menny er time, when dar wan' nobody ter pray fur
1'em, he'd say, ' O Lord, take dis chu right

72

OLD PLANTATION TIME.

inter yo buzzom! ' Den sometimes he'd sen' all de nusses out, an' tell 'em ter go res', he'd 'ten' ter de sick ones hizse'f; an' ef air one uv 'em died whiles he wuz de onlies well one dar, he'd say des ez sollum ez er preacher, ' Return ye rancid sinner home? Dat's in de hym'-book, an' you know it's er monsous sollum prayer, honey. I peept fru de crack, an' heerd him say dem ve'y words over ol' Aun' Riny's Milly.
" When all de fever wuz done, an' atter de po' dead ones wuz burrid, de white folks in de settlement 'p'inted de time fur de fun'als ter be preached. Well, honey, dey wuz niggers dar dat day twel de whole face uv de yeth lookt black wid 'em. De nigger meetin'-'ouse WTUZ er sight too little ter hoi' 'em all, so mars' he sed dey mus' have de white folks's' church tef preach in : so dey put off der meetin' twel de nex'

A RAINY DA Y IN THE CELLAR. 73
Sunday. De niggers had all 'greed dat dey wanted ol' man Seabun ter preach de sarmunt. He'z de same Seabun what mars' gin yo' ma when she got marri'd; so mars' sont Nick wid de one-hoss wagin ter yer pa's big planashun, forty-fi' mile f'um here, ter fetch de ol' man up.
" La, honey, I can' tell you 'bout dat sarmunt suffishun. I wuz'n much higher'n dat table, but I wuz dar, an' I ain' gwine ter furgit I wuz dar, nuther. De ol' man preacht five hours an' er haff, an' den he had ter quit, kase 'twuz er gittin' dark, an' he wuz er hongry, kase preachin' iz mighty zausteratin' bizness, honey. We all come home fum de fun'al sarmunt by de grave yard, an' sung er hym', an' prayed er prayer, an' I des tell you, honey, ef de Lord iz got enny mussy on sinners, he sholy opened de hebenly gate, an' tuck dem niggers inter glory dat night.

74

OLD PLANTATION TIME.

" We calls dat grave-yard de tarryfied centuerry, kase all de niggers what had de fever wuz burrid dar terguther.
" La, honey! des look yander! Yan' come Mars' Billy down de hill, er drivin' dat Boney-part hoss er hiz'n. What in de worl' do he mean, takin' out dat nve-hund'ed-dollar beas' out in dis weather? He sholy mus' be gwine er courtin*. Fur my part, I nuver could see what he wan' ter call him Prince sumpin-er-ruther Boneypart fur. Der ain' no Boney-part erbout him, an' nuver iz ben, -- not sence he owned him. He'z ez fat er annymul ez ever wo' i'on shoes; an' I des think he orter change hiz name, myse'f. Dat's er powerful wishus hoss, dough : he'll bite same ez er bull-dog; an' he won' let no body tetch him nuther, 'cep' ol' Dilsy's black Edmun, an' Mars' Billy. I lay Ed's

A RAINY DA Y IN THE CELLAR. ?$

er cussin' right now, 'bout dat annymul

'bein' outer hiz stawl.

" One day yer cousin Ansun Walker i
come by Mars' Jeems's, ter see Mars' Billy

'bout sumpin'. Miss Ann wuz er settin' by

de winder, so Mars' Anson axt her whar

Mars' Billy wuz. She tol* 'him he wuz

down ter de stable, ten'm' ter Boney-part's

foot, what had got hurt somehow er

nuther.

" Y|er cousin Ansun wuz er powerful

game-makin' young man : he wuz tarnully

tellin' some funny tale 'bout de young folks

in de settlement, an' had er heap er miss-

cheef in him. When he seed Mars' Billy,

he wuz er 'stoopin' over, wid hiz back

turned to'ds de road, lookin' at de hoss's

foot. Now Mars' Ansun knowed what er

I



biter dat hoss wuz, so he des c-r-o-p-e up

on Mars' Billy ser quiet like, he nuver heerd

76

OLD PLANTATION TIME.


him er comin'. Des ez he got right close

ter Mars' Billy, he whickered like er hoss,

an' grabbed Mars' Billy in de back, an' helt

on ter him tight. Po' Mars' Billy wuz

skeered mos' ter death! He thort sho de

hoss had bit his back cl'ar th'ough hiz

spinal, an' he hollered an' hollered fur

somebody ter come take dat annymul off n

him.

" Mars' Ansun helt on ter him twel he

got ser full er laff he couldn' hoi' on no

longer; den he leggo, an' made out like

he had des run dar ter he'p him, an' had

made de hoss loosen hiz holt on him.

Whar iz yer cousin Ansun now, honey ?

am' dat what you axt me ? Done gone ter

Texas, ter live close ter hiz wife's kinry.

"Well, Mars' Billy didn' know no better,

sthort de hoss had bit him, sho nuff, an' he

wen* ter de house white ez er sheet. He

A RAINY DAY IN THE CELLAR. 77
tol' hiz ma 'bout what had happent, an' dey
i
had er mighty 2amnin' hiz back, ter see
i
how bad er place de hoss bit. Whiles dey wuz er gittin' de rags ter rub it wid camfire an' spetch-tubben time, Mars' Ansun he tells Miss Ann how it] all wuz; an'j dey like ter er busted er laff n', whils' Mars' Billy wuz
er groanin' wid d i hoss-bite. "Atter while Miss Ann couldn' hoi' in
no longer, an' so! she tol' him how 'twuz. Mars' Billy jumptl up wid er cheer in hiz han', mon, an' he like ter er fought Mars' Ansun ri^ht dar. Twel dis day,! it makes him mad fur ennybody ter ax him 'bout de day he turned hoss-doctor.
" But I spec' ii:'s time I wuz settin' de table fur dinner.i You'z ben talkin' ser much, I ain' had no chance ter tell you no tale dis morniri', but I will tell you one fo' long, honey. Nex' time you' mus' gim

OLD PLANTATION TIME.
me er chance ter say er few words; kase 'tain' no ways propper ner perlite fur one pusson ter do all de talkin', an' manners sets mighty putty on chillun, don' you furgit dat, honey."

\ CHAPTER VI.
OUR CIRCUS.
CANNOT say now, that a rabbit<
hunt in which I participated was deliberately planned by any of us. Sure I am I didn't suggest it, Johnnie vowed he didn't, while Charlie and Jim Tom were equally certain the idea did not origi nate with them. Grandma had been called early one Oc tober morning to visit a neighboring friend who was very ill, -- too ill to admit of a child's
79

80

OLD PLANTATION TIME.

presence in the house. I was thus left at home for a whole day with the boys, after receiving many injunctions and directions as to good behavior, and strict adherence to Bet's instructions and advice.
Bet was in one of her most lenient moods, so readily consented for me to join the boys in a game of town ball. Of this we soon tired, and, after regaling ourselves upon several stalks of sugar-cane, began wandering aimlessly around, the dogs and several negro children following us. I think these same dogs must have brought the inspiration with them: however, be that as it may, we were soon rambling through a broom-sedge field, which is, as all well know, the best place in the world on a frosty morning to find rabbits.
Very soon after climbing the rail fence which surrounded the field, a rabbit was

OUR CIRCUS.

8l

"jumped." Immediately half a dozen dogs, the boys, and myself, followed by our sable attendants, were in full chase. Through briers, over fences, jumping gullies, panting and running, we managed to keep " Molly Hare" in sight, v After a run of fifteen or twenty minutes, weMost sight of our game; while a " stand " on the part pf one of the dogs proclaimed its whereabouts, up a hol low in a poplar tree, just beside a running stream, on each side of which there was a high bowlder of gra, y rock, m* oss-covered, and well shaded. As the last of our party arrived, a stick having been cut by Johnnie, who was in advance as usual, we air stationed ourselves around the tree, the dogs standing near to prevent the escape of our coveted victim.
Johnnie approached the mouth of the hollow, thrusting the long, keen switch into

82

OLD PLANTATION TIME.

it, announced he had found him, and imme diately began twisting it around briskly, till a squeal announced a tight hold had been secured in Molly's furry side. A quick, strong jerk of the switch, and our prize lay at our feet; though not without another attempt to gain its freedom did the frightened rabbit succumb, and acknowl edge itself captured.
A barbecue was proposed by one, and agreed to by all. At first we concluded to prepare our feast on the victorious spot; water being convenient, wood plentiful, and the rock just what we wanted to build our fire upon.
Each of the boys began searching their pockets for a piece of punk and a sun-glass, with which a country-boy generally kept himself supplied ; but as neither was forth coming, and no fire was to be had nearer

VUR CIRCUS.
than the house, three-quarters of a mile away, we determined to go nearer home, and dispense with part of the present com pany, before proceeding with our culinary operations.
A short distance from the house, we es pied a pen in the corner of a patch, which was always used in winter as a feedingplace for the cattle. In the pen a quantity of shucks had been stored; but fortune surely favored us, for the last had been fed
^
away the day before, and the now empty pen stood invitingly before us, large enough for kitchen and dining-room too.
Tiny was despatched to the kitchen for fire, Siny was sent for her apronful of sweet
i potatoes; both having been bound to secrecy, upon penalty of never being al lowed to join our sports again if they betrayed us. j

r

84

OLD PLANTATION^ TIME.

During their absence, the boys climbed to the top of the pen, where another surprise awaited them. The board covering was not nailed down, but held in place by the weight of poles laid across the ends, where each layer lapped the preceding one. An opening was soon made in the centre, wrhich hole was to serve the double purpose of out let for the smoke, and inlet for ourselves.
Our messengers soon returned, each having executed her commission faithfully. Meanwhile the boys had collected fuel sufficient to roast an ox, instead of that poor, unoffending rabbit. A blaze was soon crackling merrily, the rabbit hung by a twine string from the roof of our banquet ing hall, while the potatoes lay around the fire, baking before the flames, for we were too impatient to wait for ashes in which to roast them.

OUR CIRCUS.
thus seated in a circle, all in terested in our first attempt at cooking, which, by the way, had no seasoning, not even salt, I proposed to the boys to have a show, practise all day, and give an exhi bition that evening in the corn-crib. I think I then came near being admired as a genius, as from each such commendations as "That would be bully!" "She's good grit, ain't she?" "Plucky for a young one!" were received; and I immediately rose several degrees in my own estimation. After considerable consultation, a pro gramme was agreed upon, an orchestra arranged, and, to our minds, a most satis factory performance was planned.
"But where does all that smoke come from ? " was asked.
"La! boys, the roof's on fire; and old Molly's as black as Tiny, -- why, she's burnt up "

86

OLD PLANTATION TIME.

\

" Look here, we must get out of this!

Tear- that side of the pen down, and get

Patse out."

The boys set to work in earnest; but the

flames had gone farther than we thought,

and the burned boards began to fall inside,

just as I was pulled and pushed over the

half-torn-down side of our dining-room.

''Good gracious, the fence is burning!

Run for water! Call the negroes! Go to

work to tear the fence down!" Johnnie

issued these orders, working furiously. But *
the fence was too high for them to reach

the top rails, which were well-seasoned and

dry: so the fire gained upon them with

such rapidity, that there was danger of

serious damage to the out-buildings near,

if help was not soon received. Fortunately

the negroes were coming home to dinner,

and had to pass immediately by us. Seeing

OUR CIRCUS.
the smoke and flames, they came running to our aid, tore down the fence on either side where it was burning, and so trie fire was quenched, no 6ne hurt, and no great amount of loss sustained.
For an hour or more we were pretty quiet, after' having bribed the (negroes not to tell on us. But our mischievous minds could not remain satisfied with ordinary pleasures, and our show could not be aban doned just because we didn't have rabbit for dinner.
As the circus plan emanated from my brilliant brain, I was voted the honor of opening the evening's performance, by a solitary triumphal entry into the arena, riding on a half-broke, year-old ox, which the boys had been training, for a week past, to draw a cart. No one had attermoted to ride " Mingo; " but " Patse can

88

OLD PL.LVTA TIOX TLVE.

hold on like a rabbit to a tar-baby : he

can't throw her, I know," said Charlie.

Of course after such praise I couldn't

refuse, so Mingo and I were to perform

to music bv*' the band. The orchestral in-

struments were a coarse comb covered with

paper, a sheep-bell, a cow's-horn, with tin

pan accompaniment, and rattling- of bones.

Xo two of the performers knew the same

tune when they came to practise; but all

succeeded in making a noise, so our music

was considered a success.

Blaze, the bi<^~ Newfoundland dooof, was to figure quite largely ; so Jim Tom proceeded

with the sheep-shears to trim his woolly

coat lion-fashion, while Charlie coaxed Dick

to help him fix up a hanging-scene, as

fortune again smiled upon us in grandma's

havinoO

selected

Daddv Miles '

to

drive

her

that morning, and Dick was always ready

OUR CIRCUS.

89

for a frolic with the boys. Johnnic was

elected masted of ceremonies, and so our

practising began.

Jim Tom was a most devout Sunday-

school scholar, so selected his part of the

programme from sacred history. As Charlie

was fond of adventure, he determined to

personate a highway robber, taken in the

double crime of robber}- and murder, with

justice quick at hand, which decided he

should die by hanging immediately upon

the scene of his last desperate deed. Just

as he was in the death agony, Dick, who

was to act as his accomplice, should ap

pear with great caution, and cut the rope

barely in time to save his life ; and, bearing

him into the adjoining woods, the jmaoqna-

-"

/>

TO

tion of the spectators was to picture his

resuscitation and final recovery.

Jim Tom .was to enact Daniel in the

90

OLD PLAXTATIOX TIME.

lions' den, Blaze personating- the lion.

This was easy enough to accomplish, for a

better-tempered lion never flourished than

was old Blaze. There were other scenes

of less importance; our programme being

necessarily a short one, as practising and

perfecting ourselves and coadjutors, all had

to be over by sundown, as the show must

come off before dark, there being no means

of lighting up the crib.

But our circus came very near being in

definitely postponed for want of performers.

About four o'clock in the afternoon, beinof O

very warm, and orowino-- thirsty after exer-

J

O

O

s

cising upon Mingo (haying1 experienced

considerable difficulty> in oecttincof him into

the crib, even with Tiny's and Siny's assist-

*t

*

ance), I started to the spring near by for

water. I was running along hurriedly, that

not lose a moment's time, when

OUR CIRCUS.

91

\
there fell upon my ear such distressing

moans and groans, as I knew could have

proceeded from no other than a very pain

ful source. I stopped and listened, my

thirst all forgotten in my attempt to deter

mine from whence the sounds issued. I

soon found they came from an old cart-

body lying beside the road, just outside

the barnyard gate. I supposed one of the

neg*roes had )een taken sick in the field,' and, in returr ing to the house, had lain

down in the cart till the first paroxysm of

illness should pass away. I crossed the

road, bent on Tendering every possible as

sistance to the fancied sick neo^ro. Picture my surprise upon seeing Johnnie and Char

lie stretched out ghastly pale, heaving and

retching in death agony, I thought; while i
Jim Tom lay near by, hiding himself behind

the trunk of a fallen tree, in a no less limp
i
and pitiable condition..

92

OLD PLANTATION TIME.

li What on earth, boys, can be the mat ter ?"
No intelligible word, only a sigh and shiver, as a rigor seemed to pass over their wretched frames, was the answer I received.
" O boys! do tell me, what is the matter?
Oh, if grandma would only come! I must run for Mammy Liza and Bet: maybe they can keep life in you till she comes."
' " Xo, no : don't cfo ! Don't tell -- it's O
tobacco! " kf Boys, boys ! surely you haven't been
chewing ? " T> " Yes, we have, -- smoking too. She's
<o_>fame : she won't tell."
That settled it! Right there I vowed myself their cham pion ; and, had the tobacco killed them, would never have told they had used it.

' Rnvc h/M-c ctirolir

i OCR CIRCCS.

93

I ran to the spring for fresh water, and

bathed their pallid, clammy faces and hands,

fanned them with my bonnet, and nursed

them as tenderly as if some dire evil had

befallen them, and they had not been the

victims of their own imprudence.'

They soon grew better under my minis

trations '; and I think the ma^oic word " cir-

I

I

cus," which in their tortured moments I

believe they had forgotten, acted as a great

stimulus to their improvement, which was

so rapid, they were able in an hour's time

to return to the crib, and make final prepa

rations for the evening's performance. \

Johnnie's proposed handbills were omitted

for want of time to prepare them ; but that

mattered not, as our expected audience

could not have read them.

When the hands came home at sundown,

all was in readiness; and, after feeding the

94

OLD PLANTATION TIME.

stock was over, and Mr. Reid gone from the barnyard, they were invited to witness the circus.
The band struck up, and I made a suc cessful entrance ; but Mingo became unman ageable in the second round, while Johnnie was expatiating upon his wonderful training, made a bolt for the musicians, who were seated on cotton-baskets turned bottom up wards, put them to confusion and utter route, while he tossed his head, lashed his tail, and scampered through the audience, knocking over a baby or two, and raising cries from them, which but added to our enjoyment. On reaching the door, he jumped out just in time to give Mr. Reid a broadside, as he had been attracted by the unwonted noise, and came back to in quire into the cause of so uproarious an outburst. It was davs before Mincjo was

OUR CIRCUS.

95

i

seen again : then it was in a neighbor's

pasture two miles away, to which, I doubt

not, he had gone at once, running all the

wav. 4> I have never been able to ascertain from

what source Jim Tom gained the informa

tion that Daniel was a colored man. The

fancy may have originated in his own youth

ful brain; but he appeared at the mouth i
of the " den " as black as soot and grease

could make him, dressed in the most fan

tastic manner, more like an harlequin than

a devout, prayerful disciple. Blaze was

evidently not prepared for such a Daniel,

and when turned loose by his keeper, flew

at him most savagely, bit him in several

places, and finally had to be taken off and

chained, as he failed to recognize, in the

blackened and grotesque figure before him,

his playfellow arid friend.

96

OLD PLANTATION TIME.

Poor Jim Tom, limping and bleeding, took a back seat to witness the balance of the entertainment.
Charlie's scene opened most flatteringly, and was loudly applauded. The way he rifled pockets and vanquished foes was quite astonishing. As Jim Tom was dis abled, Johnnie had to combat with him single-handed in rescuing Tiny and Siny (dressed in boys' clothes) ; while I, as lady traveller overtaken by the bandit, lay down and screamed.
All went well till Johnnie, having over come the robber, though he killed Tiny first, had succeeded, with Siny's assistance, in hanging him with a plough-line sus pended from one of the rafters; in retir ing and leaving the desperado to his fate, he kicked the chair from under him, and poor Charlie was hanged, sure enough.

OUR CIRCUS.

97

I
The spectators thought it 'was part of the

play, so did not attempt to rescue him.

Dick was a little tardy in making h's ap

pearance, and when lie did finally arrive

Charlie's life was i almost ended. Dick quickly cut him down, and took him out

into the air, wheVe he soon revived: but

the red mark of the rope round his neck i betrayed him; and, when grandma came

home after dark, we all got a lecture on

disobedience, which we promised we would

not soon forget.

So ended the day when we were left at

home to our own devices.

The negroes were faithful to their prom

ises, and never told that we set the fence

on fire, but repaired it in time for the next

year's cultivation.

For four years I kept the boys' smoking

and chewing a secret, and suppose I should

OLD PLAXTATIOX TIME.
never have acknowledO ged that I knew of it '; but they grew old enough not to care, and many laughs we all had over my distress, and the fear of death which I was sure had overtaken them, that memorable circus day, when I had my first experience in nursing.

CHAPTER VII.
POOR LITTLE CHIP.
|]OW ol' iz you, zackly, honey? Seb'n year an' fo' munts ol' ? \\rell den, in coase you don' reckermember much 'bout po'
i
little Chip what got drownded. No, I knows yer don'; kase 'twuz fo' yer sister Flora wuz bawn, an' you'z des th'ee year old'n she iz. La! honey, what's I talkin' 'bout ? You \vuz'n' mo'n two year ol 1 , so 'tain' no ways natchul ter s'pose you knows nuthin' 'bout what er 'stressin' time dat wuz.
\
99

100

OLD PLAXTATIOX TIME.

IV little Chip! He wuz des six year ol\

an' ez sweet er chil' ez ever I sot eyes
i
On.

Bet is evidently in a story-telling humor

this morning ; so I draw my chair up close

to hers, and prepare to give strict atten

tion, while she stones the bucket of cherries

beside her. which she is preparing to pre

serve. Her busy hands keep time to her

no less busy tongue, as she relates the par

ticulars of a sad occurrence, which, as she

savs, I was too voun^ to remember.

-

/

O

"Hi/ name, sho' miff, wuz Raff. 1 ' con

tinued Bet ; " but one dav he heerd Miss >
Betsy say he wuz des like htz pa. He

lookt like him, he had ways like him, in

fac' he wuz de ve'y spit an' imidge uv hiz

pa. One day he wuz settin 1 down on de

tlo' playin' wid some empty spools ; an' Miss

Betsv sez ter him, ' Come here, honev,' an'

POOR LITTLE CHIP.

IOI

cles ez he riz up hiz head ter look at her,

hiz grea' big blue eyes lookti ser power

ful much like hiz pa, sez Miss Betsy, sez

she, ' I 'clare, dat chil' is- des er chip uv de

ol' block, he iz ser much like hiz pa.'1 So

he wuz ser young den he couldn' say

'Raff' nohow; so ri^ht den he Vun ter call

'

O

O

hizsc'f ' Chip,' an' To' long we all got at it,

an' er putty little Chip he wuz, too.

" He wuz'n yo' own brother. You know,

yo' pa wuz er widder when yo' ma mar'ied

him; an' Chip wuz nex' old'n little Mas'

Jackie, an' he wuz des two year ol'. Well,

hiz ma's mother usetcr keep him wid her

er grea' deal, sorter like you stay wid my

miss; an' 'twuz 'endu'in' one er dem visits \

dat de axerden' happent what I'z gv;ine ter

splanerfy ter yer clis mornin'.

"When dis settle?;/*?;// wuz fust settled,

dar wuz'n no mills 'bout here, uv no sort

102

OLD PLANTATION TIME.

whatsomdever. De white folks had ter sen' ten miles ter town fur all de lumber, an' de flour, an' de meal. Well, mars' sed clat wouldn' do, nohow in de \voiT; so he sot ter work an' bort de water-power f 'urn Mars' Jeems, an' den built de mill, dat same mill what's er runnin' right now, wid ol' man Smart and Monday er ten'in' ter it.
>
k ' Po' little Chip wuz stayin' wid Miss Betsy one time, an' dar wuzn' no yuther white chillun dar. So he come over ter Miss Ann's, 'tain' but er quarter th'ough dat little skeert er woods, yer know, ter see ef some her little gran'chflluns wuzn' dar wid her, like dey mos'-in-ginerly-allus wuz. But ez it happent dat clay, none uv em wuzn' dar; an' Chip 'peared ter be ser diserp'inted kase he didn' fin' none hiz little cousins, he sed he didn' b'le've he'd go er fishin'. De little feller come wid hiz fishin'-lines, an'

POOR LITTLE CHIP.

103

hiz poles all fixt fur t\vo uv 'cm. Miss Ann

seed he wuz put out 'bout it, so she tol' him

he mought take little black Billy wid him.

She called up Billy f'um \vhar he \vuz er

churnin', an' tol' him ter go 'long er Chip,

an' de chilluns bofe 'peared monsous well

holpt up. .

" Billy wuz two year ol'n Chip, but he

wa'n' no bigger. He allus wuz er little runt

uv er ni^ofer, an' he ain' much better yit.

. CO

,

J

" \\Tell, Billy dug de bait, cley wuz gwine

ter fish wid yeth worrums ; and he put 'em

in er gourd, an' off dey started, juberlous

ernuff. Miss Ann hollered ter Billy ter

take good keer uv Chip, ' kase,' she sez,

' you'z de ol'es', Billy, an' you knows whar

all de deep holes iz: you mus'n' let Chip

fall in de creek.' In coasec she didn' think
nuthin' wuz gwine ter happen ter 'em, but

she Ides wanted ter make 'em keerful.

104

OLD PLANTATION T/JfE.

" Dat mornin' some uv de 'chinery 'bout de mill got broke ; an' ol' Smart an' Mon day bofe had ter go \vid de ox-cart, ter git it ter de man what allus done de men'in'. So de mill wuz shot up, an' nobody wuzn' dar. Well,' de chilluns wen' down de lonoof hill ter de creek, crosst over on de footlog, an' wen' up on de yuther side, an' fisht in de race erwhile, an' dey kotcht er right nice little strinog er fish.
" Atter while dey thort dey'd fish in de pon' some ; so dey got er long pole, 'bout big ez my arm, an' laid it cat-a-wampus crosst frum de race ter de bank of uv de pon', an' stood on dat ter fish. Dey had ter stan' 'mazin' still, kase 'twuz er skint pine pole, an' twuz powerful slipp'ry. No body don' know how it happent, whedder hiz foot slipt, er hiz head got dizzy, er how it wuz, but fust thing Billy knowed, he

POOR LITTLE CHIP.

105

heerd somebody holler, an' den er splash

in tie water. He turned roun' quick, an'

lookt, but all he seed wuz de big rings er

water on de pon', an' one little han' way

high up over de water, whar it wuz kinder

.*

I

spurted up; den he knowed po' little Chip

\

had fell in.

" Billy wuz er stan'in' on de dam, an' he

seed Chip er risin' close ter him; an' he

helt out hiz pole, an' Chip kotch holt uv it,

but Billy wuz'n strong ernufif ter pull him

,

out, an' Chip had sech er grip on de pole,

he pulled it clar outen hiz han', an' mos'

pulled Billy in de water too. Billy seed f he

couldn' do no mo'; kase he didn' know how

ter swim, an* po' Chip fell in rigtyt whar dar

wuz er big suck-hole. He run ter Miss

Ann's hard ez he could go, des er hollerjn'

loud ez he could holler. Ol* Harry happent

ter be dar at de woodpile back uv de house;

106

OLD PLANTATION TIME.

an' he heerd Billy er comin', an' he knowed by de commoty he wuz er makin', dat sumpin' wuz gone wrong. So he run down de road an' met Billy er comin', an' axt him what wuz de matter; but de boy wuz ser outer bref he couldn' say er word. He des kotcht holt uv ol' Harry, an' pulled him down de road, an' bofe uv 'em run hard ez dey could go. Des ez dey got ter de dam, po' little Chip riz ter de top fur de las' time, an' den sunk outer sight.
" Ol' man Harry jumpt in de pon', an' div' fur him right whar he seed him go down ; an' he come up outer de water wid de po' little feller, holdin' on ter him by de hair uv hiz head, -- hiz long yaller curls what he wanted cut off ser bad, an' nobody wouldn' cut 'em. kase he lookt ser putty wid 'em grow in'.
" Ol' Harry done all he could ter fetch

POOR LITTLE CHIP.

IO/

him to.. He belt him up by biz heels, an' let de water run outer hiz mouf what he had swallered, an' he rolled him over, an' he wallered him dar twel he seed 'twuzn' no use ter scuffle wid him no longer: de dear little chil' wuz done dead. Bless yer soul, honey! dar wuz de string" er fish in one han', an' de pole what Billy helt out ter him in de yuther, when ol' Harry laid him down on Miss Ann's bed, an' she sont atter his gran'ma.
i
" Well, I wuz sorry fur po' Miss Betsy dat day : she did grieve tremenjus fur po' little Chip ; an', honey, we all grieved wid her, kase he wuz one er dese fur-er-way kinder chillun, er oncommon chil', allus studyin' 'bouu sumpin' way off yander, an' er axin' qjestchuns what nobody couldn' answer.
"Well, atter de fust bust uv her grief

108

OLD PLANTATION TIME.

wuz over, Miss Betsy wen' back home ter make some derangoements 'bout leavin' ser onexpected; an' my miss an' Miss Ann made some needcesstous commerdashuns 'bout gwine wid her. Miss Betsy 'turned back ter Miss Ann's putty soon ; an' she tuck dat po' little drownded chil' in de karidge wid her by her lone se'f, an' kar'id him home ter hiz pa.
" Sho's you bawn, chil', dat wuz er sollumcolly rekashun. In less'n eight hours atter dat chil' lef hiz gran'ma's, he wuz in hiz pa's house ten mile erway frum thar, er col' corpse.
"When ol' man Harry laid him down on Miss Ann's bed, sum uv dem little fishes wuz er livin'; an* fur ever ser long ev'y now'n den dey'd kinder wiggle, an' flop der tails des ez sassy! It did look monsous hard ter think dat dear little chil's preshus

', pI*

POOR LITTLE CHIP.

109

life wuz gone, an' dem wuthless little fishes \vuz lef dar er wigglin'.
" I 'clare fo' grashus, honey, it wuz tur'ble ter bc\\o\\ when we kar'id dat little chil' in de house. Miss Betsy wouldn' let nobody tetch him but herse'f. She tuck him in, an' laid him on hiz pa's lap; an' sez Miss Betsy, 1 sez she, ' You trusted yo' chil' ter me, an'
I dat's cle way! I've tuck keer uv him.'
" Yer pa couldn' speak er word fur er minnit; an' den he sed, ' Don' blame yo'se'f: you meant it fur de chil's pleasure; don' blame yo'se'f. God knows I don' blame you. I know you loved him, an' we all loved him, an' it's hard ter give up po' little Chip; but, please God, we'll try ter think it's fur de bes', so don' blame yo'se'f no mo'.' Dat seemed ter comfort her might'ly ; but, honey, we all loved dat chil', an' po' ol' Selany, what had nussed him, it lookt

HO

OLD PLANTATIONS TL\fE.

like you mought er heerd her heart-strings pop, she mourned fur him so.
<J It hurt us all powerful bad ter put him in de dark groun 1 , but den he'z on de shinin' sho' now; an' ev'y time I hear de chillun sing ' I wanter be er angel,' I allus think erbout po' little Chip, kase he lookt mos' like er angel here on yeth, wid hiz eyes blue ez de skies, an' his long yaller curls des like shavin's off uv er clean pine plank.
" Bless yer soul, honey, I nuver meant ter make you cry; but I b'l'eve I'z cryin' myse'f. Some uv dese Sundays, when ol' man Harry comes down here wid dat spiketail blue coat uv hiz'n on, wid de brass buttons down de befront uv it, I'z gwine ter make him show you dat presen' yer pa gin him.
" Nex* time he wen' ter de big norrard

" When you see o!' Harry wid de blue spike-tail on, dat watch is conspio k.rwous 'bout his pusson somewhat."-- Page 111.

POOR LITTLE CHIP.

II I

atter po' little Chip wuz drownded, he bort er silver \vatch, an' sont it ter ol' man Harry; an' inside uv it iz writ down dese words: 'Fur ol' Harry, in grateful 'membrunce, from little Chip's father.'
" When you see ol' Harry wid de blue spike-tail on, dat watch is conspickerwous ibout hiz pusson somewhars; an' ef he hadn' er ben de perzessor uv dat property, my miss's Shacjy Ann nuver would er notissed dat stutterin' ol' nigger. But I tell you, honey, when ol' Harry gits dat watch on, he thinks he'z some punkins, an' Shady .Ann's conseeshusness iz des onendurerble ter er senserble nigger az iz travelled both
I
fur an* wide. " Come 'long, 'honey, I'z done dese cher
ries now. I ain' gwine ter perserve 'em twel dis evenin'. By clat time de sugar'"l be done vaperized all tho' 'em, an' dey'll

112

OLD PLANTATION TIME.

be mo* juicive ter de perservin' bizness. Dat means de sir'p'll be thicker, honey.
" I mus' call up Tiny an' Siny, an' make 'em pick up dem greer^-gage plums what de \vin' blowed down las' night. I seed mos' er bushel uv 'em layin' down dar under de trees, when I wen' atter de tur keys dis mornin', 'reckly atter sun-up. Yer gran'ma's gwine ter have cump'ny termorrer, I know, kase she tol' me ter put de hemstitch linen sheets an' piller-kases, an' dat risin'-star kwilt on de bed in de big room up-sta'rs. 'Sides dat, Mammy kilt de big yaller gobbler what's th'ee year ol'. It's qualerty cump'ny comin', kase ef 'twuz des or'nary visitors, she'd er kilt one dem las' year's raisin'.
" I'z sorry I made you cry des now, honey; but den it's proper an' perlite ter shed some tears when you'z tol' 'bout yer

POOR LITTLE CHIP.

113

dead delashuns; an' I'z glad ter see yer ain' furgot po' little Chip, dough tain' no ways reson'erble ter s'pose you kin 'mem ber nuthin' 'bout him. De little feller's better off'n we iz, lef here 'in dis lan' uv tribberlashun an' , 'stress: so wipe yer eyes, honey, and don' cry no mo' 'bout him now, kase cryin' won' fetch him back; we all tried dat speunce when he fust got drownded." <

CHAPTER VIII.

A CORN-SHUCKING.

IT up, honey ! Yer gran'ma's

eatin' breakfas' by herse'f. Ain'

you shame ter be er layin' here

sleepin', an' de blessed sunshine

des er pourin' down fum de furmy;;/*;// like

er house-er-fier, an' us niggers g\vine ter

have er corn-shuckin' too ! "

All this pours forth in a breath from

Bet, one bright morning early in Decem-

<^>

O

>

ber, while I sit up in bed, rub my sleepy

eyes, and am about to resign myself to the

"4

A CORN-SHUCKING,

115

warm blankets again till the inspiring words " corn-shuckin'" give 4 new interest to the day; and I gladly obey Bet's injunc tion, and jump nimbly out of bed.
"I heercl my miss tell Mr. Reid ter

have all de corn hauled out'n de meetin''ouse fid', an' put in er pile down dar 'fo'
'. de corn-crib do', an' dis nigger ain' no fool, -- I know what dat means.
" What do it mean, honey ? ain' dat what you say? It mean me, an' Mammy, an' ol' Aun' Riny, an' all us house gang, iz
i
got ter git over groun' wid er dubbleshuffle, -- eat ter-day, an' chaw ter-morrer. It mean Tiny an' Siny iz got ter ketch chickens, an' wring der heads off, an' fur Daddy an' Bud Dick ter kill th'ee hogs an' er couple er goats, an' fur ol' man Smart ter clean out de pit, an* fix ter bobbycue de meat. It mean fur de

Il6

OLD PLANTATION TIME.

nigger men in de naborhood ter come here soon ez it's dark, an' fur all er dem an' my miss's men-folks ter let in on dat pile er corn, an' bergin ter shuck it like de \vorP wuz comin' ter er een', an* dey had ter car'y dat corn ter mill, an' git de meal ter make de bread fur Jedgment-day din ner. Dat what it means.
" La, honey ! dar'll be chicken-pie, an' back-bone stchew, an' hog-head, an' bobbycued goat, an' gingy-cake, an' apple-dumplin', an' tater-puddin', an' 'simmon beer, here, fur dem niggers ter eat an' drink, twel you'll be sick ev de sight er vittles. You ain' nuver ben here when us had er corn-shuckin', iz yer, honey ? Not sence you wuz big ernufT ter memorize nuthin' 'bout it.
" Well, dress fas' now, so you kin see all de fun. Bless yer soul, honey! it's de

A CORN-SHUCKING.

117

*nos' consequenshus time er de whole year,

'cep' Chris'mus and fofe-er-Jewly. Come

'long now an' eat yer breakfas', kase I'z in

er hurry: I wan' ter 'gin de prepperashuns

fur de 'tainment."

Arrived at the breakfast room, Bet

easily persuades me to take my meal

if

at a small table, thus enabling her to clear

away the breakfast-table, and get the dishes

washed quickly, that she may the sooner

lend a helping hand in the kitchen, where

the preparations have already begun.

(

Grandma is in the smoke-nouse, where

I soon join her, sending out the flour,
i
lard, sugar, apples, potatoes, etc., to be,

under Mammy 'Liza's, Aunt Rina's", and

Bet's skilful hands, converted into those i.
wonderful dumplings and puddings, Bet

has enumerated as taking such a conspicu

ous part in the night's entertainment.

Ii8

OLD PLANTATION TIME.

All day the busy negroes run back and forth, from the house to the kitchen, singing merrily, in anticipation of the good time coming. Bet issues orders in a most authoritative manner ; as she has travelled more than the others, and fancies herself ?'. quite a leader throughout the " settle?;^;//." "
Grandma always takes her maid, every visit she makes among her relatives and friends ; and this is why Bet considers her position such an exalted one. She often refers to incidents which occurred "when me an' my miss wen' ter see Miss Mary, or Mas' Doc," as if the visits had been planned and arranged entirely for her benefit and pleasure.
After an hour or two spent looking on, as the preparations progress in the kitchen, I grow tired of the stirring, beat ing, and mixing, so wander out in the

A CORA -SHUCKIXG.

119

yard, where I soor become greatly interestdd to know how Daddy Smart will proceed to cook meat in i" that grave"
i
he has dug. He has thrown fat lightwood splinters ar el torches, with great
J sticks of wood into] the pit, and now there 'j is a bed of red hickory coals, from which
a stream of hot air arises. He next lays I
poles across the (opening-, from each of
which he proceeds: to suspend, by a strong
twine, a side of pork or kid. Near the
pit stands a large | tin bucket containing a
mixture of butter salt, vinegar, black and red pepper, which together with the drip pings from the browning meats, he constantly applies wit i a mop, that all may be thoroughly seasoned when ready to serve.
After watching'I and qui estioning him
until I am pretty well initiated into the mysteries of barbecuing, and receiving, in

T

120

OLD PLANTATION TIME.

good faith, old daddy's assurance, " Dat's de bes' way ter cook human vittles in de \voiT, missy," I say good-by to him, and continue my walk to the barnyard, where the gathered corn lies in a great heap before the crib-door.
I easily persuade Nick, the wagoner, to take me with him to the field, as he goes for the next load of corn. I climb in, and soon go jolting along at the risk of a fall every few moments, as there is no regard paid to rocks or ruts in the way. Arrived at the field, the baskets gf gathered corn are emptied into the wagon, till the body is filled. Nick turns the six mules with a great amount of gheeing and hawing, apparently as much ex cited and anxious as if he had not driven and turned them in the same way, for years past.

J

A CORX-SHUCKL\G.

121

I decide to remain in the field, and roam around among the laborers; and I occasionally put an armful of corn into some favorite's basket, as she races with one of the other hands. Qn Nick's return, wearied with the unusual exercise, I am glad to be hoisted on top the loaded wagon, and so go rumbling home to dinner.
The afternoon quickly wears away, and I joyfully hail the approaching darkness.
There have been stands erected in front of, and all 'through the barnyard, upon which there is a thick layer of earth piled, and fat light-wood stumps kindled into a bright blaze upon each one. Round these the negroes group themselves, awaiting the arrival of visitors from the neighboring plantations.
important conference is being

122

OLD PLANTATION TIME,

held in this interval; and some strong argriments are being1 introduced, for and against different " leaders " proposed.
Finally they settle upon Talbot, aunt Ann's driver, a tall, burly black, whose duties it will be to make a speech and conduct the ceremonies generally, though leading the singing is considered the most important feature of the occasion.
The " hands" begin to arrive, and laugh ter and merry-making at once set in. An ecdotes are told on each other, to the discomfort of some ; while others, bent on fun even at their own expense, join in the laughter, which is long and loud, after each story told. All this time the negroes have-continued to arrive, till now a goodly company has gathered; and Talbot an nounces it time for the "frolic" to com mence.

1

A CORX-SHUCKIXG.

123

Big Frank and Long Jim conduct him to the place of honor he is to occupy as leader, by making a basket, or " catsaddle " as they term it, of th,eir four hands joined together in such a way as to form a square seat. Talbot mounts into this carriage ; and after he is trotted
O'
around the pile three times, the carriers keeping time to a kind of monotonous
i
dirge sung by the company, they make a slight halt as they reach the head of the heap, on this last round. While seated thu, they give a long swing with their arms, which imparts a considerable im petus to Talbot, as at the same time a spring on his part, lands him safe on his feet near the centre of the pile, mid cheers from the lookers-on.
This settles Talbot's position as hero of
a.
the occasion; as had he fallen, or made a

rr

124

OLD PLANTATION TIME.

false spring, the dignity of leadership would have devolved upon a more active repre sentative. He appreciates the importance of his position, and makes the following speech in acknowledgment of the same: --
" My berluvvid niggers, here we iz ter shuck Miss Patse's corn. Let us View de pertickerlers uv de sitcherwashun in dese few words. Dis corn wuz planted las' Febbywerry, two munts atter Chrismus. Some uv you niggers had ploughed de groun'; some uv yer come erlong an' busted out de furrers, fur some de yuthers ter drap'de corn in. Den some de balance follered, an' kivered de little grains, an' so de corn wuz planted. All er dis de niggers an' de mules done, but somebody else had ter do sumpin' too. Ol' Marster way up yander had ter say, ' Corn, swell up an' bust, shoot out uv de groun', don' lay dar doin' nuthin';

A CORN-SHUCKING.

125

dem ol' moles'll come long an' eat k'ou up, ef yer don' .huri^y.' So de corn come up, an' groped off peart-like. Den de ploughin' an' de hoein', de sunshine an' de rain, all come 'long, an' made de corn grow, twel
i by fofe-er-Jewly it wuz laid hy. Den you niggers could eat yer big dinriers, an' joice in de water-milliori crap wid satisfackshun.^ An', niggers, tiz er crap ter 'joice in: Now, dis corn iz done growed, it's got hard, an* you'z done hauled it up. But dat ain' all yit. De crap iz er good :un, it wuz worked by er likely set uv niggers, it berlongs ter er good 'oman, er fine lady. Dar's ernuff uv it ter feed a 1 you niggers an' annymuls, an' ter fatten d hogs fur de winter's killin'. Now, my 'spec ted frien's, le's turn in an' shuck dis corr , so ez ter have er good appertite fur de bobbycued meat what I smells wid my nosters, an' my stummuclc craves.

126

OLD PLANTATION TIME.

This effort is received with a loud shout of approbation, and all fall to work most zealously; laughing and talking to each other, as they are seated upon the ground on either side of the corn pile, large bas kets placed behind them, into which they toss the shucked ears over their shoulders, rapidly filling, while they are taken by others not engaged in the shucking, and emptied into the crib. Talbot keeps his position on top the heap, walking back and forth through the centre, cheering occa sionally with such remarks as, --
"Dat's de lick, little Ellick ! " "You kin beat yo* daddy, young York." " Gentermen, des look at big Frank ! " " Some er you niggers take Kumsey way f'um here ! " " Dis pile's er 'ducin' too fas'!" " Somebody's fun'al hatter be preached

A CORN-SHUCKING.

1127

here ter-morrer, ef Miles's Bill don' quit

dat bein' ser reckless." "Hoi' on ter Lonzer dar, don' let him

kill hizse'f."

I

j

!

"Miss Patse'll van' all you niggers ter

make ernuther crap wid; tlon' hurt yer-

seVs."

.i

I

" Come, boys, le's sing sumpin' suiterble

ter de 'cashun. You'z all got on too much

steam. Le's blow our whissels, er some our

b'tlers mought bust, ft'll start; 1 Dick an*

Owen, Carter an' CarnY, Seab an' Arter,

you all jine in. Come, bpys, chune up.

' Oh ! chillun, in de mornin',

When de sun 'gins ter shine,

When de rabbits am er hidin'

i

i

In de blackberry vine,

When de owls quit er hootin',

An' de roosters 'gin ter crow,--

Dat's de time! ter go er scootin*

Wid de snovel an' de hoe.

128

OLD PLANTATION TIME.

CHORUS (in which all join). 'Den take up de shovel an' de hoe, honey, Den take up de shovel an' de hoe.

' Oh ! chillun, when you hear Dat dinner-horn blow,
When de sun shines clear, An' de. win's duz blow,
When de mules 'gin ter whicker, -- Den de niggers go slow :
It stops de cotton picker, An' we flings erway de hoe.

CHORUS. 'Den we flings erway de shovel an' de hoe, honey, Den we flings erway de shovel an' de hoe.

' Oh ! chillun, when you see Dat sun 'gin ter set,
De moon risin' in de eas' Sez it's gwine ter be wet;
De owls 'gin ter hoot, De 'possums gin ter prowl,

-

j



A CORN-SHUCKING.

129

De chickens 'gin ter scoot, An' de dogs 'gin ter howl.
i
CHORUS. 'Den we lays down de shovel an' de hoe, honey, Den we lays down de shovel an' de hoe.' "

The excitement becomes intense during

the singing-; and the pile has grown so

small, that in a short time the last basket

is emptied, and the horn is blown for

supper. /



But there is too much/ excitement still for a quiet assemblage round the open pit, .

whence the juicy meats send out appetiz

ing odors, or the table where stews, dump

lings, puddings, and breads are heaped on

great Wooden trays, near which stand two

immense barrels of beer, with a basket of j
tin cup.4 beside them, for the thirsty labor

ers to drink.

130

OLD PLANTATION TIME.

The overseer has, so far, been merely a looker-on; but he comes in for a share of attention now. Two of the tallest men on the plantation have been previously selected, and now come forward; standing close together, side by side, he is hoisted to their shoulders, and thus seated between them is carried round the yard, while all sing in his praise, --

" Oh ! Mr. Reid iz er mighty fine man, -- Er mighty fine man indeed; He plants all de taters, He ploughs all de corn, He weighs all de cotton, An' blows de dinner-horn: Mr. Reid iz er mighty fine man."

While this is being sung, they march in procession, all keeping time, and beating a kind of accompaniment by striking the right fist on the open palm of the left hand, pro-

A CORN-SHUCKING,

131

longing the performance till they reach the

barrels of beer, where, doubtless, he is glad

enough to dismount from his sturdy bearers'

shoulders.

|

The cupi are then passed around as far

|



i

as they will go through the crowd. Daddy

Miles stands with a long-|handled gourd

beside orte barrel; -while Yellow Alf, Bet's

husbard, dispenses the contents of the

second. When all are supplied, Talbot,

still acting as spokesman, says, "God bless

Miss Patse. I hope ^she'll live ez long

ez she Wants ter, an'll give us er corn-

shuckin' ev'y year. Boys, dere's good vit-

tles here: don' let Miss Patse think you

don' know what ter do wid it." .

No danger that any such impression shall 0

be left upon the minds of ^ny, as then;

1

*

appetites, always to be relied on, are now

greatly increased by their work in the crisp

J

r

132

OLD PLANTATION TL\fE.

night air; and 'tis not until the barrels have been exhausted, and the table's plen teous store is entirely cleared away, that the eating and drinking cease.
Then, in the most solemn manner, grace is said, thanks are returned by Daddy Hercules, and the feast is ended.
As the negroes pass the torch-stands, where the pine-knots still burn brightly, many of the visitors snatch up the brands, and waving them high over their heads, start home, as happy and light-hearted, apparently as unfatigued, as when they came into the yard four hours ago. As the last lights glimmer in the darkness, the last faint notes of the returning ne groes, singing on their way home, sound in the distance, I fall asleep, having en joyed the corn-shucking fully as much, if in a more quiet way, as did any of the negroes.

CHAPT IX.
BET EXPRESSES HER OPINION.
RECKERLECK hearin' my mars' say one time, dar wuzn' no fool like er ol' fool, an* I des b'le've it's de trufe," begins Bet, as I lean over her ironing-table one morning-, when loneliness has again driven me to the cellar for companionship. "Xbw, here's our ol' Kalline," continues Bet, "gwinter marry Mars' Peter Williams's Buck, er right young nigger, what ain' much ol'n dat las' gal chil' uv her'n ; an',
'33

134

OLD PLANTATION TIME.

honey, ef you wuz ter hear dat ol' nigger runnin' on 'bout her putty nigger what she'z gwine ter marry nex' Sunday evenin', you'd think she wuz done gone clean strackted.
" He come here las' night atter you wuz done gone ter bed, axin my miss did she have enny jeckshuns ter hiz havin' Kalline fur er wife. My miss sot dar battin' her eyes erwhile, den she cl'ared her throat, an' sez she, ' I don' think it's er suiterble mar'idge on 'count uv yer ages bein' ser diffunt;' but he sed dat didn' make no matter wid him. Den my miss axt him how come him ter think 'bout sech er ol' nigger fur er wife; an' he 'lowed ever sence de white folks had de shingle-ruff cam'-meetin' las' year, an' he wen' dar ter he'p ten' ter de hosses, an* he seed ol' Kalline flyin* roun' dar ser

BET EXPRESSES HER OPINION. 135
peart, cleanin' up de skillets, an' pots, an' pans atter Mammy wuz done cookin' in 'em, an' killin' de chickens ser servagerous, he knowed she \yuz de nigger fur him. Sez he ter my miss, --
'When I'z'slee p I dreams erqout her; When I'z wake I takes no r
Den my miss axt Kallane what she wanted wid dat y! oung boy ; an' Kallme she 'spon's back ter miss, wid her eyes rolled up in de elflyments, --
'Ter cut my.wood, ter make my fiers, Ter fclose my eyes when I dies.'
" Now, honey, | dis'll make? five huzbons dat oF nigger's nad, an* all uv 'em livin' right now; an' I lay by Chris'mus her an* Buck'11 be done parted. ISow, Buck ain' nuver had no wife ertall, ai' what duz de Scripter say, -- 'ev'y thing ter its kin',' -- an' ef dat don' mean er \jlidder man ter

136

OLD PLANTATION TIME.

er wiclder 'oman, what do it signerfy ? Ain' dat re'son'ble ?"
" Why, Bet, how can she marry while her husband is living ? Did she get a divorce from old Uncle Pompey ?"
" Git er Vorce, honey ? What she gvvine ter do dat fur? She nuver got no Vorce ter marry him, what she gwine ter git one ter quit him fur? Dar ain' no sense in no sech er perceedin', an' I don' blame her fur not makin' no bigger fool uv herse'fn she'z already done. It's quite suffishun fur ol' man Herkylees ter ax him will he take her fur better an' fur wuss, an' keep her in fier-wood, an' den ax her ef she'z gwine ter 'bey him all de time, an' wash an' patch fur him, an' den spashate in de presence uv witnesses, dat dey's man an' wife, 'dout no Vorce in de bizness.

BET EXPRESSES HER OPINION. 137
" Look ter me like dat yoiinges' gal uv 'hern, dat Merlindy Mandy, 'oulcl 'suit him better'n ol' Kalline ; but ded, dough she iz scr big an' gawky, she ain' much nio'n cr chir. I 'clare, she do outgrow enny crcctur I ever seed in my bawn days. She'z des like er sparrer-grass we,ed, what sprouts up in one night, she'z ser young an' sappy. My miss tuck her in de house onct, thort she'd make er house-gal out'n her. an' gin her ter me tier Tarn her what wuz 'spected uv her in dat 'sponserblc sitcherwashun. But I 'clare' fore good ness, honey, she mighty riigh pestered me ter death, axin' questions 'bout ev'y thing she seed; 'sides dat, she mob' broke ev'y thing she tetched. One time she wen* upsta'rs ter he'p me cleain up Mars' Will's room, when we 'spected him ter come back frum de 'V'ersity, dat time he writ

133

OLD PLANTATION TIME.

hiz speecherfurcashun. Well, I lef her in de room whiles I come down-sta'rs ter ten' ter some yuther bizness ; an' when I wen' back, dar she wuz er stan'in' at de lookin'glass Tore de burow, des er bo win' her head, an' er friskin' roun', wid er pa'r er yer-rings in her yers made outer goobers, doin' des like she seed Miss Sallie Cotton er doin', dat time she staid here wid my miss ser long. I stood dar in de do'-ways, an' watched her envhile; an' den I let in on her, an' I gin her some er my min' what she won' furgit twel she'z grayheaded,-- which all uv dat breed er nig gers turns gray young. My miss tuck er
<;
heap frum dat nigger ; but de trufe iz, she'd try de pashunce uv Job hizse'f, an' I don' b'le've eben he could er made er decen' house-gal out'n her.
" Dat Miss Sallie Cotton iz de one

BET EXPRESSES HER OPINION. 139
you'z heerd 'em al lauehin' < t de younjy doctor 'bout. One day she wen' out hossback rid in' wid er passel u v de youngfolks in de settleme,\'//; an' when she come back, stiddy uv gwi ne ter de ! ho^s-blocks,
de balance uv de gals dene, she lipt do>wwnn ofTn de hoss Tore she ?ot her foot out'n de stirrup, a ft' de hoss he started roun' te|r de stable She \vuz er ridin* Mars' Will's Billie B jtton; an' !ie'd teached him ter do dat way , -- des ter rack roun' ter de hoss-lot soor ez lit off'n him. \ He drug her long sr little ways: but he didn' i,ro fur, kase Bud Dick wuz dar, des </\vine ter hiz head, so he kotch holt uv
him, an' one uv de gent'muns run an* pickt her up, ^an' got her foot onloose; but she wrencht it roun' somehow, an* sprained her ankle mighty bad. Dat night she had er monsous mizry in her whole

140

OLD PLANTATION TIME.

foot, an' her ankle swelled up tremenjus. I know, kase my miss made me stay in de room wid her, an' my res' wuz des broke ter flinderashuns.
" De nex' mornin' she had er hot fever, so my miss sont atter de doctor. De ol' doctor wuzn' dar, so de young one he come. She wuz er settin', up-sta'rs dar in de big room, an' she could see er long ways up de road. Comin' down de hill long-side er Miss Ann's gate, she spied 'twuz de young doctor comin'. When she seed him, she sont me out in de flowergarden ter git her some blossoms. Bless yer soul, honey ! I thort she wuz gwine ter put 'em in her hair, er in de bre's' uv her white frock what she had on ; but stiddy uv dat, she tol' me ter fetch her one de pillers ofT'n de bed, which de case had ruffles roun' it, an' de powder-bag

<+'.. tf,",l*'

I t,Wl!tl

' De doctor look't like he didn't know which way to turn when he seed all dem deckerrashuns."
Page 141.

BET EXPRESSES HER OPINION. 141

off'n de burow ; an', honey, what you

reckon she done?

"She perceeded ter make me put de

piller in de cher what wuz settin' dar befo'

her ; den she put her foot on de piller,
i
an' powldered it right white. D/en she
tuck all de pink rosebuds wrhat I had

fotcht her, an' cut de stems off short, an'

she put one er dem an* er green leaf in

'twix' ev'y one uv her toes; an' dar she

sot wiid her foot all dresst up wid dem

nosegays, when my miss an* de doctor

come up-sta'rs ter ten' ter her sprained

ankle.

i

I " De doctor lookt like' he didn' know

which way fur ter turn when he seed it

wid a1!! dem deckerrashuns, an* my miss

wuz des outdone complete. I like ter er

died er laffin' myse'f, whiles I wuz hol'in'

de bowl er water fur de doctor ter bave

142

OLD PLANTATION TIME.

her foot, an' wet de bandages he put on

it.

" Atter he wuz done tyin' it up, he tuck

one uv de rosebuds, an' kar'ied it down-

sta'rs wid him, an' ter dis day, he'z got

it in hiz offis, put up in er little bottle uv

alkyhawl; an' him an' de boys in de set-

fement iz lafft menny er time over dat

gal's game foot. Dat wuz de beatin'es'

trick dat ever I seed pufformed, honey.

...

" Ain' dat my miss er callin* me? Yes,

?[

'tiz. Come long, honey, le's go see what

she wants. I'z 'bout done dis i'onin' enny-

how.

" Ef you'z here nex' Sunday, you'll wit

ness de pufformance uv de mar'idge 'twix'

if

dem two niggers ; an' you kin des 'member

dat my perdickshuns iz, de ol' fool ain'

much wusser'n de young one, dis time.

" Yes, ma'am, my miss, I'z er comin'."

CHAPTER X.

MY MOTHER'S BIRTHDAY PRESENT.

|HE last two weeks of August

had been passed by my mother

and me in continued conferences and confidences. My father had frequently come upon us at unex pected times and places, and always found us -in close consultation. Several times

he heard us counting in somewhat the followinog manner: --

Old folks ...

20

Heads of families, men .

40

M.3

I

144

OLD PLANTATION TIME.

Heads of families, women ... 40

Young men ...... 100

Young women ..... 65

Ploughboys . . . . . . -3

Girls ....... 40

Children ...... 72

Babies . . . . . .

37

Total ...... 464
Each time we had been thus inter rupted, \ve immediately began talking1 upon some other subject ; and \vhen he asked once or twice what we were going to do with so many different kinds of people, with a knowing glance between us, and an air of great importance upon my part, we positively refused to impart any infor mation till such time should arrive as we deemed it proper to take him into our confidence.
I was now seven and a half years old,

MY MOTHER'S BIRTHDAY PRESENT. 145

-J


and for two long weeks had been bur dened with the terrible weight of a secret. "That's not so bad," one little one says;! but the conditions upon which I was taken linto this secret were unusually binding. I was not allowed to refer to it, or in any way deport myself so as to excite any remark from father, Johnnie, or Flora. Violet was too small to be taken into
i
consideration, we thought ; though she came near betraying us one day, by re.pcating, in hjer baby w^y, something she had overheara, to my father, who asked several questions concerning her ; revela tions.
His inquiries were, however, firmly set aside with Jhe promise that he' should " know all ome of these days." That day could surely not have seemed so long in its coming, fio him, as it did to me, with

146

OLD PLANTATION TIME.

that burdensome secret ever on my mind in my waking- hours, and haunting my dreams by night. I should be afraid to say how many times I started up from these dreams, uncertain as to whether or not I had confided to any one's keeping, the mystery the first day of September should reveal.
The day finally came; though several times I had feared an earthquake might swallow us, or the expected equinoctial gale blow us to all points of earth, and our friends fail to gather us together be fore that time should roll around. I think now I had some faint idea that the millenium might set in, as I frequently heard Mammy, and Rose the wash-woman, dis cuss the advent of that blissful period.
But the world moved on in its usual way, and the sun rose bright and beauti-

fl f J' MO THER 'S BTR THDA Y PRESENT. 147
fill, just as another early fall, day might c!a\vn upon us.
At the brea cfast-table I was sorely I U1ZZdJecl to knov if my tongue might yet be loosed, and my mind relieved; but a !'-lance at . father s face assured me he had rerceived no unusual amount of information that morning. Just as he finished his breakfast, and came around to where my mother sat at th e head of the table, bendir>.L"->r over to kiss her good-by, he said, --
" How shall e celebrate your twentyseventh birthda) ? Have ; a dining, or ask twenty-seven fri nds to spend the evening with us? Come, say, which shall it be? I\ e been singularly fortunate recently, -- every thing has turned to gold beneath my hand, -- and I'm ready to bestow some thing handsome."
"That's a good hearing for us, isn't it, I/atse ? " asked mother.

148

OLD PLANTATION TIME.

" I'm glad you are so generously in clined," she said, turning to father: " for I have a large request to make ; and, as it is my birthday, you must promise in ad vance to grant my petition."
" Ask, and it shall be given, were it the half of my kingdom," laughingly said father.
" Well, since you are bound by promise, I will tell you. I want just four hundred and sixty-four different presents. Now, have I asked too much ? But no: don't answer now ; wait until Patse and I can get our hats on : we will go down street with you ; and, as you are so very good, will take you into our confidence as we walk aloncor."
We hurriedly prepared for the walk, leaving father wondering and half-stunned at the magnitude of mother's proposition.

J/T MOTHER'S BIRTHDAY PRESENT. 149
In a moment more he and mother are j
talking" over the proposed presents ; while 1, too happy to keep quiet even in the street, go laughing and chattering along.
My father was a merchant, doing a larire business both in wholesale and retail
4>
dry-goods, groceries, and general planta tion supplies. We made our way to the \vholesale store, up-stairs in which we ex pected to do our morning's shopping. By tin's time mother had imparted her plan of o-ivingr, instead of receiving, birthday presents, and that the negroes on the two cotton plantations in one of the lower counties were to be the recipients of her bounty.' Of course i father acquiesced, and calleJ up one of the clerks to serve her, saying he would go down-stairs, and en deavor to find a more profitable customer.
The joys and pleasures of that day lin-

150

OLD PLANTATION TIME.

ger yet in my rftind, and I have never

believed that those presents gave more

pleasure to any one than they afforded

me in assisting to select them.

First the old men and women were re

membered, by selecting for each a thick

j

woollen jacket, comforter, and a fancy

j

china pipe ; tobacco being considered a

necessity with negroes, supplies were is

sued weekly with their rations.

Then, for the fathers of families, a waist-

j:

coat of bright plaids, trimmed with brass

buttons, and a pair of woollen gloves;

for their wives, a bright woolsey dress

and a bandanna handkerchief.

Each of the young men had a pair of
A
blue pants and a neckerchief ; the young

...

girls, a gay woollen shawl and a colored

parasol ; a cap and pair of boots for each

of the boys; a calico dress and an apron

MY MOTHER'S BIRTHDAY PRESENT.

for each girl; while the children and

bai bies had knit worsted hoods with sacks to match. In addition to these, there

were needles, threads, thimbles, and but<.

tons, and for each householder a pair of

1

scissors.

Until late .dinner-hour we were busy in

J

choosing plaids, colors, and so forth, that

each might feel his or her own present

specially adapted, and suited -to individual

taste and fancy.

Then minute directions were given as to

the packing of boxes, and getting the

right number of garments for each planta

tion properly sorted out. Just as we fin

ished giving these instructions, father

came, and made quite an addition to our

collection, by throwing into the boxes some

large piles of remnants in flannels, calii
coes, and woollens, which he said could

be divided out generally.

152

OLD PLANTATION TIME.

The cotton-wagons were in town, so the boxes were packed; and thus laden they began their homeward journey that after noon. The distance being too great to be accomplished in one day, the wagoners camped out at night, sleeping in the wagons, reaching home in the afternoon of next day.
My mother had arranged to leave home early in the morning of the second of September, accompanied by Flora, Violet, and myself, Bill Pop the driver, and our black Mammy to attend to the children.
A bountiful luncheon had been prepared ; and, after an early breakfast, we took our departure, father driving out a few miles in his buggy, .to see us safe over the bridge which spans the river, then, bidding us good-by, returned to his business in the city.

' JfO THER 'S BIR THDA Y PRESENT. 15 3
Our way was traversed by numerous streams: the low marsh-lands and swamps were very beautiful in the almost tropical luxuriance of their varied undergrowth.Occasionally we saw a drove of wild duck swimminoe in some laogoon near. ; and once
i
a pair of tall white cranes standing on the bank of a little stream, dipping their long necks into the water for fish and frogs, which they swallowed at one gulp, and then looked arc >und, as serious and seem\\\*\>A*\ innocent' of guilt, as though no little life had b icn sacrificed to the insa tiable craving ol their enormous appetites."
At noon our dinner was eaten beneath an immense oak, all of us seated on the carriage-cushions, which had been spread upon the ground. Mammy brought fresh
]
water from the spring near the road; and 15111 Pop gave the thirsty horses a drink,



154

OLD PLANTATION TIME.

f

1-

1

then tied them loosely to the trees, that

j

they might eat the fresh grass growing

abundantly around them.

The basket was given over to Mammy

and Bill, who evidently enjoyed the pic

nic quite as wrell as we had done ; and

while they were thus engaged, my mother

took us for a short walk.

We ran down to the little stream which

flowed from the spring, when Flora and

I readily persuaded her to permit us to

I

remove our shoes and stockings ; and

I';

greatly did we enjoy wading in the water.

j

Even little Violet joined us; and a happy

j

trio we were, my mother,, too, entering

j

heartily into our pleasure. For half an

['

hour we were allowed to roam around,

j

and gather the acorns and bright leaves

:

which fluttered above us.

Ij '

Mammy then came for us; and, as we

MY MOTHER'S BIRTHDAY PRESENT. 155

saw the horses were being put to the

carriage, we climbed into our j places, and

resumed our journey.

Presently Flora and Violet grew .drowsy,

then | fell asleep. My mother read, while

Mammy nodded as she held Violet in her

arms.

'

Thus thrown upon my own resources

for amusement, I petitioned mother to let

me sit outside with Bill Pop, who was a

great favorite of mine. At my request

he stopped the horses, and lifted me out

tlirough the front carriage-window, as glad

of my company as I was to be in the -

open air.

My long-enforced silence made me more

than usually talkative, and I inquired of

I)ill concerning every object we passed.

I le told me how, after boiling it, the

negroes jmade mattresses of the long

I!!

I56

OLD PLANTATION TIME.

gray moss we saw waving from the limbs, almost sweeping the earth in its rank growth and great length. He pointed out the trees which, when barked, and the rough outer surface peeled off, they plaited the smooth strips thus obtained, and wove into mule-collars, foot-mats, and other useful articles. He taught me the different varieties of oak, and showed me the species which, while the "sap runs up," they split and make into baskets, chairbottoms, etc. I persuaded him to teach me to " drive double," to whqph proposi tion he readily assented ; and, as he occa sionally "touched up" the horses, enter tained me with the following story:
" You know, missy, I wuz raised in North Kalliner, whar de Injuns wuz plenteous in de mountaineous deestricks. Well, my boss wuz er Injun trader; so

.MY MO THER '6" BIR THDA Y PRESEXT. \ 5 7
I useter see 'em cornstunt, when dey'd come ter de cross-roads at de settlement, tcr swop off b'ar-skins an' deer-hides, fur ficr-water, an' 'backer, an' beads, an' flum'ry. Yer know, Injuns iz monsous roguish ; an' cf dey can' steal des 'zackly what dey wan', dey'll take whatever dey kin lay der ban's on.
"Well, I knowed er nigger wunst, what de Injuns 'swaded ter go off wid 'em. De nigger thort he'd be er big man wid de Injuns, but dey wuz er heap too smart Fur clat cuffee.
" One de Injuns tuck de nigger off in de woods, an' tied him; an' den dey waited dar twel de yuther Injuns done all de tradin 1 dey had ter do wid de white folks. IVv> all started off home ter de mount'ins,* ilrivin' de nigger 'long To' 'em, so ef dey seed enny white folks, dey could 'ten' like

158

OLD PLANTATION Tf^fE.

dey'd bort de nigger, an' he didn' wan' ter

go. Den dey made him tote all de per-

juce dey had traded fur, twel I 'spec' dat

po* nigger had mo'n two hund'ed poun' er

truck, one sort an' ernuther, on hiz back.

" De Injuns tol' him dey had wanted ter

fin' er hoss (Injuns allus calls stealin',

fin'in' things) ; but long ez dey couldn' fin'

er hoss, dey wuz gwine ter make er pony

outer him. Well, dey tuck turns er ridin'

de pony twel dark come on. Dey had ter

stay on de road all night somewhars ; so

dey wen' ter er white man's hoss-lot, an'

laid down in de fbdder-lof', an' slep' dar

all night. But dat po' nigger nuver got

in no lof dat night: no, missy! Dem

Injuns tied him up in er hoss-stawl, same

ir

k

like he wuz er pony, sho nuff; an' ev'y

time de nigger'd say er word, er eben

grunted, dey'd say, 'Whoa, dar! what you

I

doin', pony ?'

M Y MO THER 'S BIR TfiDA Y PRESENT. 15 9

" An' sho's you bawn, missy ! all clem

Injuns gin dat nigger ter eat, wuz some

corn an.' fodder what dey ' foun" in de

bukra' man's stable.

"Well, somehow nuther, de nex' morn-'

in" de pony manidged ter git erloose f'um

'cm ; an' ez dey wuz in er hurry ter git

erway 'fo de white man come an' seed

'cm, dey didn' look ve'y long fur de pony.

DC nigger lipt out, an' come ter de woods;

an' den he clum er tree, what had er big

holler ches'nut log leanin' up 'ginst it.

DC nigger 'lowed he'd slip down de holler,

an' |lay low twel de Injuns wuz done gone

by; an', sho nufif, des dat way he done it.

" But dat log had yuther habertashuners

'sides dem Injuns' pony. Dar wuz two

young b'ar keerbs in dar; an' fust thing

*

.

de nigger knowed, 'long come de ol' she-;

1/ur.

160

OLD PLANTATION TIME.

" Now you know, missy, er b'ar allus

clim's down er tree back'urds, so de b'ar

y

hadn' seed de rrfgger.

r;

" De b'ar she come erlong, snuffin' up

her nose like she smelt sumpin' nuther

.

'sides b'ar keerbs. Des ez she got ter de

nigger, he grabbed her by de tail, an' he

run hiz yuthcr han' in hiz britches pocket,

\vhar he had er ol' piece er case-knife: he

i

gin de b'ar one lunge wid de knife, an'

\\.

she commenct ter scramble back up de

rI

t'ii

holler, de nicrcrer yit er hol'in' on ter her

' '

'

^O

**

!'

tail. Ev'y time de b'ar'd 'gin ter go slow,

|Ij :

de niooroofer'd fetch er twis' wid de case-

il:

knife, an' de b'ar she'd trabble.

jj'

" Well, de nigger belt on ter her tail

i.f

twel de b'ar tuck him cl'ar outer de tree,

\ ;(
an' den de nigger lit out ergin. I lay de

dus' riz berhin' dat nigger ! He nuver

lookt back ter see whar de b'ar wuz ; but

i, de n'\^KT helt on tcr ht-r tail twel the bar tuck him dar outer -- I'a' re 160.

MY MOTHER'S BIRTHDA Y PRESENT. l6l
he run home ter hiz oF marster, an* tried ter 'swade him ter wage er war wid de Injuns: an' when I come way f'um Kalliner, missy, dat nigger couldn' tell, ter save hiz life, which sitcherwashun wuz v de wuss, -- dem Injuns' pony tied up in er hoss-stawl, er down dat holler log wid de she-b'ar er comin'.
" But yon's de little town what we nas ter pass th'ough ter git ter de planashun. I 'spec' yet better git inside de karidge To' we crosses de creek. I'z enjoyed yer cump'ny ve'y much."
Flora and Violet were now awake, so the remainder of the ride was much more cheerful. Just as the stars began to peep out one by one, wearied with our thirtymiles drive, we reached the plantationhouse, and were greeted by the overseer's family and the negroes, the dogs joining

162

OLD PLANTATION TfAfE.

their voices to the rapturous greeting given " their white folks."
The glad negroes bore each of us chil dren in-doors, seated upon their shoulders, and would doubtless have carried my mother in the same triumphal manner, had she permitted such a demonstration of their joy, at having her once more in their midst.
A description of our visit must be given in another chapter, lest I tire all you chil dren, as completely as I was wearied that night.

CHAPTER XI.

Di ISTRIBUTING THE GIFTS.

|HE next morning Flora and I

were up with the dawn, and

down at the gin-hoiise, to see

the negroes as they started out

to their work. The baskets had been

stored there the night before, when they

returned from the cotton-fields, the day's

picking ended.

I

After receiving a few words of greeting

from each as they passed, we remained to

watch the process of ginning and packing1
i
the cotton-bales.

164

OLD PLANTATION TIME.

How Flora enjoyed being driven around by the boy who minded the mules which kept the gin in motion! while I, by supe riority of age, was hoisted up in front of Big Ben, and with him, rode the mule that packed the bale of cotton.
What a snow-storm we watched, after climbing the steep stairs, as the fleecy flakes of King Cotton fell in the lint-room, from which the men were constantly bear ing away great basketfuls to the adjoin ing packing-room ! Just as the bale was rolled away from the ponderous wooden screw, Mammy summoned us to breakfast. We were fully prepared to do ample jus tice to Minerva's fried chicken and light rolls; and oh, what milk and cream were placed before us !
The morning passed all too quickly away to Flora and me, as, accompanied by

DISTRIBUTING THE GIFTS.

165

j

Mammy and Violet following in the dis

tance, we visited every cabin where any

of the occupants were not engaged in the

fields; and at the double cabins, in each

of which there were two old women with

all the babies in charge, and a retinue of

young nurses, we lingered to 'see the

little ones, and to hear the old ones talk.

One old woman in particular, called

Aunt Blossom (I am sure she could never

have bloomed anywhere save on "Afric's

burning sands"), I was specially impressed

withi, I think I have never seen any one

so hideously ugly; and I was noi t in the least surprised when Mammy confided to

me afterwards, that she was in league with

the "olf boy," and could charm snakes.

I remember a curious necklace she wore,

whose peculiar powers I heard her explain

to Mammy. There were three glass beads,

166

OLD PLANTATION TIME.

black, blue, and white respectively, a buckeye nut, an alligator's tooth, a dried rabbit's foot, a frog's skull-bone, and sev eral joints of a snake's spine, all of which were strung on an eel's skin, dried and twisted. In these "charms" she had the most implicit confidence; and I was never more awed than when I saw her rub one of the teething children's gums with the hot brains taken from a rabbit's head, which she asserted they would soften, and so bring the teeth through, without any of the attendant evils incident to dentition.
Whether her conjuring powers were po tent, I know not; but I certainly know the little ones under her care were a thriv ing, roly-poly, laughing set, enjoying their bread and molasses, milk and sweet-pota toes, upon which I saw her feeding them, with such zest as I never saw them eaten.

DISTRIBUTING THE GIFTS.

167

When the dinner-horn was!sounded, my

mother had the' overseer to call the

negroes to the house; and from the long

veranda, where the gifts had been, ar

ranged in the most tempting manner,

with the assistance of his wife and two

daughters, m

and Flora, she pro-

ceeded to disf ense among them the pres-

ents she had irought.

,

Mother mad e them a little address, ex-

/

i

j

plaining that this was her own birthday

present which she was bestowing upon

them, and that it made her very happy to

see them ( all looking so well and con

tented.

"Thanky, missus," "Thanky, missus,"

" Much erbleege, missus," was echoed on

all sides; and a merry, grateful crowd it

was, as they compared gifts, held the ar

ticles up before them, and mentally took

A- .. -. - ...jj. ... .. ,^-.i^>

168

OLD PLANTATION TIME.

measures to ascertain if the garments would fit. Exchanges in many instances were effected in a few moments after receiving the presents, which, when bestowed, seemed to possess such a wonderful charm for each recipient. I saw several mothers, heads of families, swap a woolsey dress for a young girl's green or blue parasol, so great a love have they for showy finery.
After the presents had been distributed, many of the women lingered for a little talk with " missus," as they termed mother ; and numerous were the directions she re ceived about cutting patterns to insure a good fit of the new dresses, which the overseer's wife had been employed to make up for them.
Flora and I were scarcely in-doors half an hour the entire day; and for the night we planned a visit to one of the cabins,

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A<

Ji>^ .-,4-ljii

i^

;' *M>' " J I''-il.i1^*.

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11 Read er chapter for de ederfurkashun of de 'sembled sinners." --Page 169.

' .."'

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'-



**

r*t 'ilTtfr' In* AfrViii* riirilU^ikJiitt'tfiliiliV'liiiiii'iii AIV^^W^^^^- -^'~tnt^^t^ti .ruti'i.WriWi-.Vii

DISTRIBUTING THE GIFTS.

169

where the usual Wednesday-night prayermeeting was held. Flora, however, was so tired by the day's exercise, that she fell asleep at the supper-table, and wasf put to bed with Violet. Mammy and I were prompt in our attendance; and I don't think I ever felt more important, than when old Daddy Caesar asked me " ter read er chap ter fur de ederfurkashun uv de 'sembled sinners."
The well-worn Bible fell open at the eleventh chapter of Isaiah; and when I read, from my seat in Mammy's lap, the sixth verse, -r-" The wolf also shall dwell, iwith the lamb, and the leopard shall lie down with the kid, and the calf and the young lion and the fading together, and a little child shall lead them," -- the old
r
negro preacher invoked a most solemn blessing upon my head, and, in the prayer

I/O

OLD PLANTATION TIME.

which followed, besought God that I might indeed become such a peacemaker.
I do not know that now, after the lapse of all these years, I should be so im pressed, could I hear that prayer repeated; and I know not but that it was the singular surroundings which so stamped it upon my mind: but certainly no pulpit eloquence has since seemed so convincing of the Spirit's power and presence, as did that earnest prayer of the untutored black preacher on my father's cotton-plantation. When he asked God's blessing so solemnly and fervently on each member of the family, calling us by name, and imploring in our behalf the Father's guidance, and in conclusion pictured the time when we should all be assembled around the great white throne, the Master seated on high, I felt nearer the " Great I Am" than in any

DISTRIBUTING THE GIFTS.

171

sanctuary or assemblage of so-called saints.
I am sure no trained choir ever made more harmonious mus| ic than when they sung, ---
r I
"Shout, little chfflun,
Yer time ain* long, W-a-y i-n d-e K-i-n-g-d-o-m.
Shout, little chillun,
Ai/ sing dis song, W-a-y i-n d-e K-i-n-g-d-o-m.

Many long years,
My head bent down, W-a-y i-n d-e K-i-n-g-d-o-m,
I wep* many tears, My heart bowed down, W-a-y i-n d-e K-i-n-g-d-o-m.

Wid er heavy head,

An* er achin' heart, W-a-y i-n d-e K-i-n-g-d-Orm,

I prayed ter God,

I

An* he tuck my part, W-a-y i-n de K-i-n-g-d-o-m."

,--^, i- ^-tr'iViafci i- S_- L-r- , J**M

172

OLD PLANTATION TIME.

The last line was repeated until the whole room seemed moving, so great be came the excitement; and the prayers and singing would doubtless have been con tinued until a late hour in the night, but Daddy Caesar warned them that " er sleepyheaded nigger wa'n' no 'count in de cot ton-patch," and so, pronouncing a solemn benediction, dismissed the congregation.
Mammy and I returned to the house; quiet soon reigned throughout the entire yard, and I can but dimly remember hear ing Mammy mutter something about " sleepin' 'thout enny rockin' dis night, I lay she will," so soon was her prophecy verified. . The next morning we went three miles to the other plantation, where the day was spent similarly to the preceding one, except that in the evening there was no prayermeeting. This time Flora, Mammy, and I

\

DISTRIBUTING THE GIFTS.

173

spent in visiting the cabins, where Mammy was regarded as a very superior person, and "Sis Winny's" remarks were quoted, her advice asked and acted upon, as though she were the highest authority, and her judgment infallible. Some of her informa tion concerning city life and city ways was as amusing to me as it proved interesting to her astonished listeners.
One enormously fat woman, called " Big Lize," seemed to have great power to in fluence the ne groes on this place; and when she said '. 7lora " lookt des like yallerblarster, she wtz ser putty an' ser white," I was completely nonplussed, as I could not conceive how one so extolled for her ze/^zte-ness, could be so admired because she was yalle*. Her meaning seemed plain, however, as "Dat's de trufe, mon, you'z tellin' now, dat it iz," was remarked

174

OLD PLANTATION TIME.

by many who agreed with her. I felt very ignorant, and, as soon as an opportunity presented itself, confided to Mammy my lack of information; who explained to me that she thought Flora looked like a doll. And then it dawned upon my mind that
i
she meant alabaster, a substance which was at that time in great demand for making dolls' heads and arms, besides vases and other household ornaments. " Big Lize" had doubtless seen these at a time she was fond of referring to, as "in de days when I wuz er slim nigger, an' wuz my miss's boddy-sarvunt."
I overheard her tell Mammy that she " knowed she had 'lidgion, kase she dreamed *bout seein* her ol' miss sittin' up in heb'n, wid er big poun' cake on de she'f side her; an* when one de angels come an' started ter take it erway, she tol' de angel ter let

BIG LIZE'S DREAM. -- Page 174

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dat cake erlone, it mus'n' be totch twel Big Lize come atter it." This seemed to settle her future state most satisfactorily; and I think Mammy was also convinced, as she gave a grunt of decided acquiescence, and said *' Des so."
!
While seated on the steps of the cabin where this conversation occurred, I became interested in a play which was being par ticipated in by about twenty of the young 1 men and women, who joined hands, form ing a circle around one placed in the centre, and, while she made successive efforts to break the chain thus formed, by bearing her weight upon their hands, all sung, --
Oh, i do let me out! I'z in dis lady's gyard' en, Oh, do let me out! I'z in dis lady's gyarden. I
De gate iz lockt, an' de walls iz high, Roun' dis lady's gyarden.
Oh, do let me out! I'z in dis lady's gyarden.

176

OLD PLANTATION TIME.

De gate iz lockt, an' de key iz los* Uv dis "lady's gyarden.
Oh, do let me out! !' in dis lady's gyarden.

I mus', I will, git out er here, Out er dis lady's, gyarden.
Oh, do let me out! FZ in dis lady's gyarden.
I'll break my neck but I'll git out er here, Out er dis lady's gyarden.
Oh, do let me out! I'z in dis lady's gyarden.
While the singing continued, they danced around, keeping time to the music, the im prisoned one making efforts all the while to escape, by trying to creep under, jump over, or break down, the wall of the " lady's gyarden/'
Finally, effecting her escape, they all at tempt to elude her grasp, as the one caught takes her place in the "gyarden," and the play is thus continued, mid shouts and laughter from all.

DISTRIBUTING THE GIFTS.

177

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The next day we returned home, never

to visit the plantations again under such

happy circumstances, as the sickness of

both children and the death of dear Flora

soon followed.

CHAPTER XII.
BET IMPARTS SOM_/E/ / INFORMATION.
|O' ma knowed what she wuz er talkin' 'bout, when she sed my miss wuz humo'in' you ser much she'd spile yer. Now, who in
de name er kerrashun 'ould think all dese festivrous preperashuns wuz made, des kase you finished dat bed-kwilt, an' den made yer gran'ma er buthday presen' uv it ? But honey, don* think I ain' 'greerble ter havin' de nabors here, an' givin' 'em all er big dinner, kase I iz; 'sides dat, I think it'z all
178

BET IMPARTS SOME INFORMATION. 1/9

right ter Tcurridge chillun ter larri how ter

soe.

Bet gives expression to the foregoing

sentiments, as she is seated in the cellar

one bright sprjng morning, beside a basket

1

i

of lint-cotton, carding bats for my quilt to

be padded with.

The next day had been appointed for the

quilting-party, to be given in honor of my

having completed a most wonderful com

bination of small squares, which made me

quite famous among my youthful cousins,

and the neighboring children generally.

" Did yo' ma ever tell you how mad my

miss got 'long er Miss Marg'ret 'bout her

gwine dar ter pay er visit one time when

she

wuz

little ?"

continues i

Bet.

" You say she nuver did ? Well, den, I'z

gwine tell yer 'bout it myse'f. In coase

you don' un'stan* 'bout de succumstances

180

OLD PLANTATION TIME.

what led ter de cashun uv my miss's takin' yo' ma ter live wid her. One time dar wuz er monsous big meetin* gwine on at Mount Zion meetin'-'ouse, an* mars' an* my miss wuz er gwine dar cornstunt fur mo'n er week. Miss MargVet had th'ee chillun den, an' yo' ma wuz de younges', des er little creetur, runnin' roun', wid monsous injucin' ways. Mars' he made er mighty mirashun over her. She wuz named atter my miss, dough dey never called her des out-an'-out Patse, like dey duz you. Mars' he sot in ter 'swadin' Miss Marg'ret ter let de chil' go home wid him an' my miss, er promisin' Miss Marg'ret he'd fetch her back nex' day, when dey wen' ter de meetin'. But de nex' day hit wuz er rainin'; an' so de meetin' broke up, kase de weather wuz ser bad, an' 'twuz gittin' fodder-pullin' time, ennyhow.

BET IMPARTS SOME INFORMATION. l8t
" In coase, ef dey couldn' go ter de meetin', mars' 'lowed dey wouldn' 'spect 'em ter car'y de chil' home in de rain. So i. t | kep' on dat way f'um one day ter ernuther, twel he got ter luvin' de little ignunt thing so, he couldn' b'ar ter think 'bout givin' uv her back ergin, an* us nig gers wuz plum foolish 'bout her.
" Well, 'bout dat time, Miss Marg'ret's tuther chillun tuck de mezles, den dey had de mumps, an* mars' an my miss wouldn' take de chil' right inter de mids' uv dizeze an* kurrupshun: so it des got

ter be natchul ter have de little thing dar.
*
" Miss Marg'ret nuver did 'zackly give her ter 'em, but in de long run it 'mounted ter de same thing. Dey des kep' de chil', 'thout ever car'yin' uv her home ergin, twel she wuz six er seb'n
ol'. One time Miss Margaret to? my

182

OLD PLANTATION TIME.

miss she thort dey orter ten' her de chil' erwhile, ef she wouldn' let her have her back ergin; so my miss wuz 'greerble ter lettin' uv her go. But somehow mars' 'peared onres'less 'bout her, an' he'd say, ' Ol' lady, I wan' dat chil' ter come home : I feels sorter jubus 'bout her when she'z
outer my sight.' " My miss had de karidge hitcht up
one Chused'y, an' we started atter her; but bless yer soul, honey! des ez we riz de red hill tuther side de gin-'ouse branch, we met ol' Affikin Dplfus comin' wid er note ter my miss, splanerfyin' 'bout de re'son'bleness uv her bein' sont fur.
" Miss Marg'ret writ dat de chil' had got hurt, an' she wouldn' be sanctified in de min' 'dout seein' her auntie, so she sont atter her. In coase I wuz wid my miss, an' I tell you, honey, I seed she

BET IMPARTS SOME INFORMATION. 183
wuz 'stressed 'bout dat chil', kase she luv'd her like de apple uv her 'feckshuns; but she nuver sed nuthin*. She des sorter straightened herse'f up, an* cl'ared her th'oat, an' sez she, ' Drive up, Miles, er axerden' iz happent.'
" Daddy driv reckless dat day, I tell you, honey.
"Well, when we got ter de house, To* we retch de do', we could hear somebody moanin' des ez pittyful like. I 'clare To1 goodness, honey! it made my heart go bump, bump 'ginst my new kalliker frock wais', twel ef it had er ben tight, 'twould er busted de und'-de-arms seams.
"When we wen' in de room, dar lay dat po' little creetur, sufferin' ernuff ter er weighed er thousan' poun', an' dis wuz how it come erbout: --
Or Gilly wuz er bilili' er pot er soap

1&4 K OLD PLANTATION TIME.
in de kitchen, an' she had drug de pot way out on de aidge uv de hathe ter keep it frum bilin' over. Yo' ma an* de yuther chillun wuz in dar playin' wid de corn cobs what had ben fotcht f'um de hosslot, ter bile de soap wid. Dey wuz er makin' 'tence like dey had er hog-pen, an' de hogs had busted fru de fence dey made outer de corn-cobs, an' wuz er gittin' in de groun'-pea patch, which yer know hogs iz monsous 'struckshun ter groun'-pease.
"Whils dey wuz er runnin' roun', drivin' up de hogs, yo* ma stept on one de cobs, an' it slipt f'um und' her, an' down she fell, kickin' over de pot, an' de fo'ilin' soap des wallupt her all over, an' de po' little thing wuz des scalded boddashusly, 'cep' her han's an' arms an* her face.
" Bless yer soul, honey! my miss wuz outdone when she seed dat chil'. She

IMPARTS .WME INFORMATIii O, N. 185

nuver sed much, tut I knowed, by de way she batted her e\ es, she wuz er doin' er sight er thinkin'. Well, she tuck dat chil', sick ez she wuz, burnt up mighty nigh ter er crips, an* made er bed in de karidge,

an' we fotcht her home.

" Me an' Mammy, an' mars' an' my miss, -- all on us nussed her, and done all we

could fur de little creetur ; an', honey, she

wuz des ez pashunt ez er lam' at de

slawter-pen.

" But I tell you, mars' wuz mad. He

sed he didn' b'le've in lendin' de chil' ter

her ma nohow perceedin', an'

: |t i
he

wuz wan'

des er out-dashus" er gwine ter stan'

it. He wanted 'em ter know dar wuzn*

no sech thing ez borrerin' dat chil' no mo*.

" My Mammy sed| de night To' it hap-

pent, we wuz gwine ter hear bad news,

kase one dese here nast' little squinch-

186

OLD PLANTATION TIME.

owls come roun' de house er whinnyin';

an' she put de shovel in de fier, an' she

eben woke up daddy an' little Bill, an'

made 'em turn der britches-pockets wrong-

*

-,

ster-outwar's; but it nuver done no good:

dar he sot er makin' hiz moan, twel I

reckon hiz win' gin out.

" But 'twa'n' no ways on'spected ter

Mammy, when we heerd dat chil' wuz

mighty nigh 'stroyed wid dat pot er soap.

" It wuz er long time atter dat, 'fo' my

miss would let her go ter Miss Marg'ret's

ergin; but somehow nuther 'twuz hard ter

git enny schoolteacher ter stay in dat set-

\\zment. Some uv 'em sed Stchuart hizse'f

kep' er comin' 'roun' dar gigglin' at 'em,

an' some uv 'em sed hjz-wife ha'nted de

school'ouse. Whatever de re'son wuz, my

miss had ter sen' yo' ma ter de Mount

Zion kadermy ter 'ceive her eddykashun.

BET IMPARTS SOME INFORMATION. 187
i
" In poase 'twuz mo' conwenienter, an* greerb'ler, fur her stay wid her own mother, an' go ter de kadermy wid her sister an' brother. Dis derangement 'peared ter suit ve'y well, kase she'd* come home ev'y Sadd'y. One week she come wid her han' all tied up, an' her arm in er sling.
"My miss axt her what wuz de matter soon ez she sot eyes on her, an' she commenct er makin' 'scuses, an' sayin' it didnf hurt much, an' all dat sorter thing. 'Bout dat time mars' he come in: sez he, ' What in de nashun iz de matter wid you dis time ? Dey couldn' burn you up, so I s'pose dey'z gwine ter sen' yer ter heb'n wid yer han' pluckt off, an' cas' inter dark ness, iz dey?'
"Den she had ter tell how 'twuz; kase mars' he wuz mad, I tell yer.

188

OLD PLANTATION TIME.

" She an' her brother what wuz two year oler'n what she wuz, had ben out in de wood er gittin' hicker-nuts, an' he had er hatchet what he'd ben er cuttin' sticks wid ter fling up in de trees. Ez dey wuz er comin' home, dey stopt ter crack some

uv de hicker-nuts on er oP stump, an' des fur fun he sez, 'What you got dar?' like de chillun sez when dey plays club-fis', yer know, honey: ' take it up 'fo' I cuts it up,' sez he, an' wid dem words he come down on her han' wid de hatchet, an' chopt all four her fingers cl'ar down ter de bone. In coase he thort she'd take her han' outer de way, an' she thort he had better sense'n ter cut her ; but de skyars f'um dat lick iz on her han' ter dis day, an* dey'11 be dar too when we stan's roun' de jedgment-seat in glory.
"We had ter do all sorts er ways ter

J

BET IMPARTS SOME INFORMATION. 189
pacerfy mars', an* it wuz er long time *fo' ( he could bear ter see yer uncle in hiz sight; but byme-by her han' got well,, an' he 'peared ter furgit all erbout it.
" One time' Miss Marg'ret's chillun wuz gwine ter have er party on some uv der buthdays, an' in coase dey wanted der little sister ter come ter it. My miss had her er mazin' fine frock made, an' got her er heap er finery ter wear, an' she sont her up dar de day 'fo' de party wuz ter come off. Miss 'lowed she wuz gwine atter her ter fetch her home herse'f. De party past
i off ve'y well, an' de chillun had er mighty good time, playin* 'Grin' de bottle 1 an' 1 OF dame Wiggins iz dead.' Ez it happent dough, my miss didn* git ter go ter de party, kase some uv mars's kinry come f'um way off yan, an' she couldn' leave home, so de, chil' wa'n' sont fur twel de nex* day.
I

r

190

OLD PLANTATION TIME.

" Miss Marg'ret had er yaller house-gal, name Angyline (yer aim' Ellen's Serryfeeny iz her chil'), what wuz powerful kermilyer wid her; she tuck er monsous shine ter Angyline too. Well, Angyline wuz gwine ter skower an' clean up nex' mornin' atter de party wuz over.
"She had ter tote water f'um de spring, right smart piece f'um de house, so she 'swaded yer ma ter go wid her fur cump'ny. When dey got ter de spring, yer ma seed Angyline squat down ter drink water outer de run uv de spring, an' she thort she could do it too: so she retcht over ter drink outer de spring itse'f, not knowin' de diffunce, yer see. It wuz er mighty deep spring what had been dug out'n de hillside, an* boxt in : I 'spec' it wuz th'ee foots deep. Yer ma los' her grip on de box, an* fell in. Angyline

BET IMPARTS SOME INFORMATION. 191
had done got de bucket er water, an1 started to'ards de house, 'fo' she misst de chil' ; den she called her, but she nuver got no ansur back, so she turned roun' ter see whar she wuzl All she seed uv yer ma wuz her little foots an* legs an* her frock-tail stickin' up in de air, out'n de spring-boxin'.
" Angyline flung down de water, an* she fairly flew mon, ter pull yer ma out'n de spring. Well, she got her out, but 'twuz er one'ous pull, shors you bawh; an* bless yer soul, honey! dat little chil' wuz mos* dead dat time. But Angyline shuck her, an* wrasseled wid her dar twel she fotch her to; den she tuck her on her back, an' wen' ter-bucketty, bucketty, down de road. She laid her on de bed in Miss
i
Marg'ret's room 'fo' she eben called her ter come ter de chil'. When her ma did..

192

0ZZ7 PLANTATION TIME.

git ter her, she wuz mos' kollapst, an* her j'ints wuz limber ez er dish-rag.
" Des 'bout dat time mars' rid up ter de gate in hiz gig, come atter de chil'.
" When he seed her layin' dar on de bed ser white, an' mos' like er col1 corpse, he des tuck her in hiz arms, an* walked \ outer de house 'thout sayin' er word *ter nobody, an' druv home fas' ez he could make ol' Selum trabble. When he fotch her in de house, he sez, 'OF lady, you hear me say it, dis chil's mother iz not fitten fur ter be trusted wid de keer uv dis chil' ergin. Dey tried ter make soapgrease out'n her one time, an' dat boy chopt her up like sorsidge-meat one time,
*
an* now dey'z tried ter make de bottom ter de spring-boxin' out'n her. Don' let her go dar no mo'; dey'll fetch down all de ellyments ter work on her nex' time/

"Dar am' no such thing as borrerin' dis chile no mo'." -- Page 191.

BET IMPARTS SC ME INFORMATION. 193

" My miss seed 'twa'n' no use ter try

ter splanerfy nuthi ter him den. He

wuz sot 'ginst her gwine dar, an* when

he wuz mad he wuzn' re'son'ble nohow.

r

I

Right dar an' den he swore er sollum

swarel de chil' nuv er should leave home
i
ergin, wid hiz willin ness.

Did you ever h>ar how dat Serryfeerty, i
Angyline's gal, dore when she fust wen*

ter town ter live ? Well, Mars1 Billy gin

her ter yer auntie ur er nuss^gal, an* she

got dar Sadd'y nigtt 'bout dark. In coase

de nex' day wuz er Sunday. Soon in de

mornin' Serryfeenyj wuz in de chillun's

room), he'pin ter dress de chillun. All ter

once Serryfeeny jpmpt up, she did, an'

drapt de chil' on de flo', what she wuz

hol'in' in her lap, an' run in yef auntie's

room, an' lipt up kn d bed wid her an'

Mars' Alfud, an* busted out er cryin' loud

194

OLD PLANTATION TIME.

ez she could beller, * Laws-er-massy! lawser-massy ! jedgment day iz come ! jedgment day iz come! O Miss Ellen, hide me ! hide me here in de bed wid you, whar Jesus won' know I stole dat bre's'pin!'
" Well, Miss Ellen didn' know what de nigger meant. Mars' Alfud wuz soun' 'sleep, so she called ol' Aun' Repty, an* tol' her ter take dat nigger out er dar, an' fin' out what wuz de matter wid her. De po' creetur thort de worl' wuz comin' ter er een', an' dem church-bells wuz de heb'n-bells er ringin' ter call de folks ter jedgment. Ef ever you wan' ter make dat gal mad, you des say sumpin' 'bout de time she thort Miss Ellen could hide her sins in de bed-kiver, an' you'll see den how mad er yaller nigger kin git.
" But dis won' do fur me. Ef I sets

I

I

BET IMPARTS SOME INFORMATION.

here lissenin' ter you talk, I won' git dese

bats laid on da kwilt-limn' ter-day. But

you kin des b'l ive me, Jtjioney, my mars wuz propperly rled up 'bout de tribbyla-

shuns what be fell yo* ma, dem th'ee

cashuns what I :ol' you 'bout, an* twuz er

long time he wo jidn' let her go dar, 'thout

my miss wen' w i her.

"Come long, loney, le's go ter de hen-

'ouse, an' take dat ol' bob^tail domernicker

!t

**

off'n de nes'. She'z ben er settin' dar

long ernuff ter >r hatcht de meetin'-'ouse

full er chickens, an' stiddy uv dat she am*

eb'n got er aig Dipt, an' |i ain' gwine ter fool wid her no longer. She'll des keep

on er settin' dar twel her bre's'-bone'll be

sharp ez er case-knife, an' it'll take mo'n er

bushel er meal ter fatten her. I 'spise

dem sorter chick ns myse'f: dey's des like

some folks I'z i eed in my time, makin'

OLD PLANTATION TIME.
out like dey'z doin' ser much, an* when dey gits done er talkin' 'bout it, dey ain' done ernuff ter take er tex' f'urn, fur all de preachin' dey'z ben er doin'. I lay er pint er goobers right now, when we goes in de hen-'ouse, she'll be de fust one ter.ruckle up her fedders, an' squawk out, like she had er big gang er chickens, an' sumpin' wuz gwine ter 'stroy 'em all; an' lo-an'^hole, she ain' got nuthin' but er passel er aigs what's done mortyfied, she'z sot on 'em ser long. Le's go see 'bout her, honey. I s'pose it's hen natur ter do dat way, but it's er powerful hateful way, sho's you bawn, an' I des wish dey'd stop all sech foolishness, an' when dey'z got aigs und' 'em, hatch out chickens like er senserble beas' orter."

CHAPTER XIII.
A COUNTRY RIDE.
[HE summer succeeding * my eighth birthday stands pre eminently the happiest of my childhood. I had always left
Holm Park so reluctantly, at the expiration of the two weeks to which my visits were limited, that during school-term, motherhad promised when vacation came, I should remain with grandma until I volunteered to return home. " You will have to pack my winter clothes with my summer dresses,
197

198

OLD PLANTATION TIME.

then, for I shall never say ' Carry me to the city again/" I assured her. I really felt quite certain, I should be perfectly con tented to remain always in the one place where I was so, supremely happy.
About the time at which our schools usually closed, father and mother had ar ranged to start on an extended Northern tour, leaving the children and household under the care of a friend, to whom they were willing to confide the charge, she being delighted to serve them in so sub stantial a manner. My father had been exceedingly kind to . herself and only son, at the time immediately succeeding the death of husband and father, which oc curred under peculiarly sad circumstances, leaving his loved ones penniless and alone, to combat with the world. In appreciation of his much-needed aid at that time, she

A \COUNTRY RIDE.

'99

was always eager to ^erve or befriend my parents, in a ly possible manner. Of course, when the our was planned, I was portioned to g randma's care, -- a most satisfactory arrangement to both parties.
" Now, Patse," mother said, " we will have an opportunity of judging how well you really love the country; for we shall doubtless be away'two months, and in that time you may grow very weary of the quiet. You will find it quite different from a few days' visit. Think well before you decide. If you arrange to stay at the Park, there must be no final repentance, and changing of plans." It had been
*
agreed that mother should spend the last week before leaving, with the two grand mothers; that is, her own mother, and her adopted mother, their homes being only a few miles apart. I shall >never forget the

2OO

PLANTATION TIME.

feeling of loneliness and utter desolation which came over me, as I saw the carriage ascending the long hill past Aunt Ann's, and called to mind that mother was leav ing me for the first time, and to place such a great distance between us. Heretofore I had left her, always at home, surrounded by the other children and my father. It was with great difficulty that I restrained the tears which gathered in my eyes, when, in kissing me good-by, she said, " God bless you, my little girl, and keep you safe in His care while we are parted!" Ever since the journey had been decided upon, we children had, at Mammy's suggestion, prayed nightly for a safe passage (they were to travel by sea); that the " mairmaids an' sea-sarpunts might not Vower 'em," or other similar evils destroy them en route. I watched the rapidly receding

A COUNTRY HIDE.

2OI

carriage from the long veranda, my tears falling fast, until I became interested in watching how. large a puddle they were making upon the stone step over which I was leaning; till, in this increasing interest, my thoughts became diverted, and I was beginning to regret that they had ceased to flow, when I was interrupted by hearing grandma call to Bet, and give some direc tions which turned my thoughts into a more cheerful channel. She bade her tell Dick to put the saddle on Fflax fir " the child;" to supply themselves each with a half-bushel bow-basket, and get rieady to go over to 'Squire Givens' for some figs, which she had engaged for preserving. In a few moments my feeling of loneliness' was entirely dispelled, as I received from her messages of inquiry concerning the good health of each member of the Squire's

202

OLD PLANTATION TIME.

household, and an invitation to come and spend a day in the following week. I recognized, even then, that the expedition was planned wholly for my diversion and pleasure. Dear old grandma! How un selfish and beautiful her life was! Living in seclusion had never narrowed the limits of her heart, for it extended to, and took into its warm embrace, all with whom she was associated; and rich and poor alike found in her a friend whose hand was ever open, and whose whole life was one long chapter of good deeds toward those whom she could comfort.
My ride, with its attendant pleasures, dispelled the last symptom of the threat ened attack of low spirits; and I paced along, laughing and talking merrily with Dick and Bet, while Blaze trotted beside us. I was quite puzzled when Dick. said

A COUNTRY &IDE.

203.

he would give rie three gi uesses in which
to arrive at a present he contemplated

making me, saying he would "git it right

'long side de run er de creek, close by

whar de las' year's hog-pen wuz, in de

Riley woods." I fear I was quite as far

from a correct solution of the important

problem, when I had ventured a great

many more than the three guesses first

accorded me. I had not long to wait, how

ever, as I soon saw him looking up into

t

f

a tall hickory growing near the creek, and,

as we reached it, placing his basket on the

ground, seating himself beside it, pulling

*

I

off his shoes, and laying aside his hat,

knew he intended climbing it in quest of-

the mysterious present designed for my

acceptance. I was charmed when, upon

descending, he took from his bosom a

beautiful little gray, squirrel, with a tail so

204

OLD PLANTATION TIME.

long and bushy, that it seemed by far the larger half of the shy, cunning creature. The finding, or rather securing, of this pet, proved a text from which Dick began relating some very amusing and interesting stories of the time when animals had a language of their own, held conversations, and played jokes upon one another; or, as he expressed it, "when de beas'es wuz allus er prankin' an' er projeckin' wid one ne'er, an' tryin' ter see which wuz de soones' uv all de annymuls." Of all the stories told on that memorable afternoon, in going for and returning with the figs, I remember best this one, which he called

DE WOLF, DE RABBIT, AN' DE TAR BABY.
[NOTE. -- This legend, with slight variations, according to the section in which they lived, has been related by several different authors. I presume every child who has spent any portion of his or her life on a plantation, has

A COUNTRY RIDE.

205

heard one or more versions of the same, all similar to the following. jAs there are few of you who have thus inti mately associated with negroes, I will chronicle it as Dick related it that afternoon, $s we returned from the Squire's. It was one of a series of animal stories which he frequently entertained me with, and had been told to him by his ancestors, who doubtless placed implicit faith in the tradi tion that there had been a time when these events actually occurred. In my doubting moments I had sometimes questioned him as to their authenticity; but the only reply I ever received was, **I gin it ter you des like it wuz gin ter i me. Ax me no questions, an1 IH te"ll jm no lies." With this answer I was forced to content myself.]
i
i
" Ol' brer Wolf wuz er monsous wise
man, but he wa'n' nigh ser wise ez brer
Rabbit, kase he wuz de soones' beas* what
trabbled on fo' legs. Now brer Rabbit's
home allus wuz in de brier-patch, an* he
t
wuz powerful lazy: he natchully 'spised ter
work. Brer Wolf wuz monsous hard work-
in', an* he allus had vittles fur hiz fambly
laid up on de she'f. One year brer Wolf

< -i-Ju*. J Mi*,.i

206

OLD PLANTATION TIME.

planted corn in hiz p*a. tch, kase he 'lowed ef dey allus had bread, he could Vide de meat when time come. Now brer Rabbit nuver had no crap er tall; but somehow he allus had plenty er corn fur ol' sis Rabbit an' de young uns. Brer Wolf made up hiz min' de nex' year, dat he wa'n' gwine ter plant no mo' corn, kase he tol' hiz ol' 'oman 'bout all he got uv de las' crap wuz de shucks. * I'll plant sumpin' what nobody can' see whar it's er growin/ sez ee. ' I'll plant me er goober-patch; corn crap iz too po' an* onsartin.' Brer Rabbit nuver plant no *crap er tall, same ez befo' ; but somehow hiz fambly allus lookt fat an' healthy. Bymeby brer Wolf gun ter spishun sumpin' wuz gwine wrong in de settle*w*#/. When he'd go out ter hiz goober-patch in de mornin's, he'd see rabbit-tracks all 'roun it. He tol' .hiz ol'

A COUNTRY RIDE.

2O7

'oman one day, he wuz gwine ter fix er

way ter skeer de man what wuz totin*

off his goobers. So he made er skeer-

crow, an' sot him up in de middle er de

patch, ter skeer de thief when he come

atter hiz goobers. Dat night brer Rabbit

come skippin' 'long wid er bag ter git

goobers, an* he seed sumpin' stan'in' dar,

white in de moonshine. He 'low, ' Who

dat?' Nobody didn' say nuthin'. 'Who
i
dat ? ' he 'low ergin. Nobody didn' say

nuthin', an' nobody nuver moved ; so he

come leetle closeter, an' er 1-e-e-t-l-e close-

ter, twel he wuz stan'in' 'long side him;

den he pickt up hiz paw, an' totch de

skeer-crow, an' den he seed twa'n* nuthin'

+

_

but er ol' bundle er rags. Den he lafft

ter hisse'f, an' sez brer Rabbit, sez ee,

' Brer Wolf done los' hisse'f, sho nuff, ef
v
he 'spec's Fz skeered er dem oP clo's/

208

OLD PLANTATION TIME.

Den he filled up hiz bag wid goobers, an* he pranct back home ter hiz ol' 'oman an' hiz chilluns in de brier-patch, an' dey all eat der fill er brer Wolf's goobers.
41 Nex' mornin', when brer Wolf wuz amblin' roun' hi? goober-patch, lie seed de skeer-crow wuz done turned over, an' rabbit-tracks wuz all roun' de place whar he sot de creetur. Den he wuz monsous mad, an' he sez ter hisse'f, ' I boun' I fix brer Rabbit dis bout.' So he made er n'er skeer-crow, an' kivered him all over wid tar, which you know dat's mazin' sticky stuff, an' den he sot de tar baby up in de goober-patch. Dat night brer Rabbit wait twel it got dark good: den he recht down de goober-bag, an* rackt roun' ter brer Wolf's goober-patch ergin. Dis time he seed sumpin' black settin' dar, waitin* fur him ter come. He shuck hiz

A COUNTRY RIDE.

209

sides er laffin', an' he sez ter hizse'f, 'Brer Wolf done sot dat skeer-crow dar ter skeer me ergin, iz he?' Den he walkt up boF, an' he seed 'twuz er gal settin* dar. Sez brer Rabbit, sez ee, ' I mus' study pun dis :' so he spread out hiz bag, an' sot down on it, ter turn over in hiz min' what he wuz gwine do nex'. He sot dar cross-legged, twis'in' hiz moustarch, thinkin' 'bout what he gwine ter do. Atter while he got up, an' slickt hiz yers back, an' walkt up ter de gal ergin, an' sez ee,
i
' Good-evenin'!' De gal didn' say nuthin*. ' Good-evenin'!' sez brer Rabbit ergin. De gal didn' say nuthin'. 'You mus' be deef,' sez brer Rabbit:'' I'll come er leetle close:
. r ter.' So he crope up er leetle closeter.
_' Good-evenin'!' sez ee. De gal kep' on sayin' nuthin'. TLook here, gal,' sez brer Rabbit, sez ee, 'wlat's you name ennyhow?

iJ&l^kiiSl ilk .

210

OLD PLANTATION TIME.

Seem like you ain' kwainted.' De gal didn' say nuthin. Dis sorter rile up brer Rabbit, lease he wuz er monsous man wid de ladies. So he sez, ' Gal, why don' you speak ter me? Ef you don' speak, I lay I make you/ He stopt an' lissent long time, but he didn' hear nuthin' but de whip-po'-will hollerin' way off in de swamp. He walkt up ter de gal, an' sez ee, * Gal, ef you don' speak dis time, I'z gwine ter hit you wid my right han': den you think it's thund'inV De gal didn' spon' back, so brer Rabbit ups wid hiz right han', an' lams loose on de gal's jaw, an' hiz han' stuck dar tight. Den he sung out, 'You gal, what you hol'in' on ter me fur? Ef you don' turn me loose, I'z gwine ter hit you wid my lef han': den you think it's thund'in' an' light'nin' too.' So he leggo hiz lef han', an' it stuck tight ter de burr

A CO 7NTRY RIDE.

211 I

uv her yer, same *z hiz right han'. *Lemme loose, gal, lenime loose! Ef you don', I'z gwine kick yc u wid my right foot, an* den you think er colt kickt you.' So he h'ist up hiz right foot, an' blam! he come up wid her, an' o an' beholes, hiz foot stuck fas'. Den le sez, ' Look here, gal, ef you don' lemme loose monsous quick, I'z gwine kick you wid my lef' foot: ef I duz, gal, you think er hoss kickt you.' So he let fly hiz lef' foot, an' it stuck side de right one. Dpn he hollered out, * Gal, what iz you hol'm' on ter me fur ? I ain* done nuthin' ter you. Ef you don* lemme loose dis minnit, I'z gwine ter stick my toofies in yer. " Dor ' you know my bite iz wuss'n er snake bite ? My too&es iz rank pisen, gal, de> iz sho nuff.' Den brer Rabbit made e pass at de gal, an' hiz nose stuck fas'.

212

OLD PLANTATION TIME.

" Nex' mornin', atter daybreak, brer

Wolf

walkt

'roun'

ter <z~

hiz

goober-patch,

ter see which way de'lan' lay. Fust thing

he seed wuz brer Rabbit wid bofe han's,

an* bofe foots, an' hiz nose stuck fas' te\r
de tar baby. Brer Wolf lafft ter hizse'f,

an' sez ee, ' I got you dis pop, brer Rab

bit: you mus' be de gentmun what 'pears

ter be ser fon' uv de kin' er goobers I

plants fur my fambly. Now, Fz gwine ter

settle up wid you. I knowed I'd ketch

you some dese odd kum-shorts.' Den

brer Rabbit commenct ter beg brer Wolf

ter let him off dis .time, an' er promisin'

him he nuver will steal no mo'. Brer

Wolf 'spon's vback, ' No, brer Rabbit, I

ain' gwine ter let you off: you stole my

corn las' year, you steals my goobers dis

year, so now I'z gwine ter eat you ; dat's

de bes' I kin do ter git you out e.r my

A COUNTRY RIDE.

213

way. My chilluns iz powerful fon' er fresh meat dis season er de year. It eats monsous good wid tunnups.' Den brer Rabbit seed brer Wolf wuz mad, sho nuff in fack, so he sot in' ter 'swade him : ' Dat's right, brer Wolf, eat me. Eat me, brer Wolf, ef you wants ter, but lemme
j
beg you, don' tu'n me loose in no brierpatch. You ma' roas' me, you ma' teas' me, you ma' cut me up, you ma* eat me; but fur massy sakes, don' frow me in no brier-patch ! I kinnot stan' dat.' Den
V\
brer Wolf 'low, ' You don* wan* ter be flung in de brier-patch, duz you ? Well, dat's des what I'z gwine ter do wid you. I'z gwine ter fling you right in de bram bles.' So he pickt up brer Rabbit by de behime leg, an' flung him in de brierpatch. Den brer Rabbit wunk his eye at brer Wolf, an' hollered out, ' Bred anf

214 . OLD PLANTATION TIME.
bawn in de brier-patch, brer Wolf! me an* all my fambly wuz bred an* bawn in de brier-patch. Dis iz des whar I wants ter be. Duz you 'spec' you gwine ter ketch up wid me ergin ?' Den brer Wolf wuz fightin' mad, kase he seed brer Rabbit wuz too wise fur him yit.
" When he wen* home, he sez, ' No rab bit-soup fur dinner ter-day, olf 'oman, no rabbit-soup fur dinner ter-day.' Den brer Wolf lookt monsous sollum, an' him an' hiz ol' 'oman' 'gun ter put der heads terguther ter kuntribe some way ter git brer Rabbit in hiz clutches ergin. One day, Tx>ut er munt atter dat, ol' Miss Wolf seed nabor Dog go by, an* she sez, ' Nabor Dog, I wan' you ter do er little trabblin' fur me an' my orfunt chilluns. I wan' you ter git on yo' hoss, an* ride fas' ez you kin ter brer Rabbit's do', an' tell

A COUNTRY RIDE.

215

him my ol' man died las' night, an* he lef sollumj word he don' wan' nobody ter lay him out but brer Rabbit. Do, nabor Dog, beg him ter come over here quick, so we kih all have de fun'al; kase Wolf say he won' have nobody ter tetch him but brer Rabbit.' So nabor Dog gallupt over ter brer Rabbit's house, an' knockt at de do',
i blim, blim, blim! Brer Rabbit stuck hiz head out; an* nabor Dog gun him de sollum word dat Wolf lei f, dat ' Nobody mus'n lay3 him out but bIrer Rabbit. Sis Wolf 'low she wan' you ter come over dar right erway, so dey kin have de settin' up.' Brer Rabbit got on hiz hoss, an* rid up ter brer Wolf's back do', an' sez ee, ' What's dis bad news I hear 'bout brer" Wolf done gone gin out? Iz it er fack dat death iz kotch up wid him ?' --' Dat's de trufe,' sez sis Wolf, sez she; ' an' des

v,.. -nfi'-- "T

2l6

OLD PLANTATION TIME.

Tore he died, he lef sollum word he don* wan' nobody ter lay him out but you/ Den brer Rabbit sez, ' Kin I see him ?' Sis Wolf* tuck him in de house, an' dar lay brer Wolf on de bed, kivered up wid er white sheet. Brer Rabbit lif up one een' er de sheet, an' peept at brer Wolf. Brer Wolf lay low, an' nuver eben wunk one eye. Brer Rabbit tuck out hiz backerbox, an' groun' up some rabbit-backer fine like snufif, an' sprinklet it in brer Wolf's nose, an* dat made brer Wolf sneeze, so den brer Rabbit knowed brer Wolf wuz ' playin' possum.' Brer Rabbit run out de do', an' lipt on hiz hoss; en' ez he rid down de road he hollered back ter sis Wolf, ' Yer dead man's er sneezin'. I 'spec' you better see 'bout him.' So, atter dat, brer Wolf seed dat brer Rabbit wuz er heap too soon fur him, so he nuver tried ter kotch up wid him no mo'/

A COUNTRY RIDE.

217

Upon our return from the Squire's with
our well-filled baskets, I was happy and
cheerful again, and already beginning to
i
look forward to mother's home-cpming.
My squirrel was a source of never-failing
pleasure and amusement to me during the weeks of her absence, and soon became very gentle, and fond of me. I called him Dick in honor of the donor; and for many
\
years he played around the yard, never growing so wild but that a handful of " gwSbers " or hickory-nuts would tempt him to come upon the porches or into the dining-room. He was quite as partial to the former as " brer Rabbit," and I doubt not would have proved fully as roguish, had not his wants been supplied, thus leaving no excuse for him to develop any thieving propensities.

CHAPTER XIV.
A NIGHT'S IMPRISONMENT.
fE of the chief charms which that eventful summer in the country possessed for me, was the anticipated pleasure of hav ing as much of cousin Liz's society as I desired. Of all my relatives and play mates, she was the most beloved and the dearest. Grandma's openly expressed par tiality induced her mother to permit her to spend a good deal of time at the Park, so that visits of several days' duration 218

A NIGHT'S IMPRISONMENT.

219

were frequent. Aunt Ann was her grand mother ; though she was not so fond of cousin Liz as of another granddaughter, who was passing several months in her home. This cousin had been quite out of health, for a considerable time past, and had been sent from the low country; her parents hoping that the fretful, irritable condition in which an attack of fever had left her, might be dispelled in a more healthful section. Cousin Liz and I had
r
an avowed horror of Emma, and avoided her on every possible occasion. I fear we oftentimes persuaded her that our plays were too fatiguing for her participation, when really jt was more a desire^i' upon
our part to pass the tim e uninter>ruptedlyt than any anxiety we felt on her account. Aunt Ann was specially fond and proud of Emma; sne being very pretty, and

i

220

OLD PLANTATION TIME.

unusually bright. Her birthday occurring during this visit, she decided to celebrate the event by giving a party, to which all the children for miles around should be invited. Owing to the distances at which most of the intended guests resided, it was determined to ask them to arrive promptly at two o'clock, and remain until sundown; thus giving ample time for them to reach home in the early moonlight. Cousin Will and uncle Billie (aunt Ann's bachelor son), wrote the invitations, addressing their own first, as they declared they wanted to arrive in time to secure front seats, and that no others would serve, them. These "front seats" had long been a seat of joke at the expense of some of our youthful cousins, who had attended a minstrel performance for the first time unaccompanied by older relatives, and in their impatience to arrive

A NIGHT'S IMPRISONMENT) 221
early, that they might not miss any portion of the entertainment, had found an empty hall from which to select desirable seats. After considerable consultation, 'they con cluded to occupy the front chairs in the pit; and were thoroughly amazed uppn being requested to resign them to the or chestra, which arrived half an hour after they had made themselves comfortable. Of course they were unmercifully teased in consequence of their escapade, and, for a long while, could not be induced to start to any place of amusement, . until late enough to insure the assemblage of a con siderable audience.
We were all in a fever of excitement until Black Edmund had been despatched with the invitations to be delivered in one direction, and Jim Christmas in another; and our impatience knew no bounds until
-'ail ,r -- --1

222

OLD PLANTATION TIME.

they returned with messages of acceptance from the children generally. Then we em ployed our time principally in discussing the plays with which we should entertain our guests.
Grandma's and aunt Ann's homes were so near together, that we were almost like children of one household; so that our absence on the afternoon of the day pre ceding the party was unnoticed by aunt Ann, or, if perceived, she concluded we were at grandma's, and that, as it grew dark, Emma would come home, or a mes senger arrive to say that grandma would keep her over night. Poor Emma was the Jonah of our trio, and scarcely a day passed that she did not in some way lead us into mischief. She really seemed to possess a talent for getting into scrapes, and on this occasion the propensity came

A NIGHTS IMPRISONMENT.

223

near resulting seriously. Cousin Liz had been called home early after dinner, so Emma and I were entirely dependent upon each other for companionship. After she left us, Emma and I went up to aunt Anin's; but in passing through the yard we noticed that a granary -- built like a bin, with sloping roof, used for storing wheat, pease, and other small seed or grain--had been lieft open; an\d Emma proposed that we should stop there, instead of going on to the house. Into it we climbed with our dolls, intending each to occupy one com partment, play neighbors, pay visits, and exchange other hospitalities. There, was a partition dividing the granary, extending the entire height, so that each room was distinct from {he other. The cover was arranged so as to open and close with "a heWy beam, after the manner of old-

224

OLD PLANTATION TIME.

fashioned well - sweeps. We had been amusing ourselves thus harmlessly an hour or more, when we heard old Daddy York come shuffling along, humming his favorite hymn, which he invariably "gave out" two lines at a time, commencing, --

"Besot wid snar's on evry ban', In life's onsartin paffs I stanV

Emma immediately suggested that we should keep still, and not let him know of our presence until such time as she should give the signal for revealing ourselves to him. As we threw ourselves faces down ward on the piles of pease and wheat sacks,

we were not aware that he had closed the top, and thus imprisoned us, until we heard the spring-latch fall, and the sound of his voice grow faint in the distance. We at once screamed out to him; but his partial

A NIGHT'S IMPRISONMENT.

225

deafness, together with the smothered sound of our voices, caused by the closefitting cover, rendered all attempts at at tracting his attention mpre than useless. Imagine our consternation, as the horror of our situation revealed itself to us, as we despaired of making any one hear us, after repeated efforts every time we heard one of the negroes pass through the yard.
!
We shouted ourselves hoarse; and the cramped positions in which we lay, unable to raisei ourselves to even sitting postures, except against the back wall, where the bin was considerably higher than on ttye front side, rendered our imprisonment any thing but pleasant, even had we been sure of speedy release. Our only comfort layt in the thought, that it would have been much worse, had that impassable partition risen between us; but we were together,

226

OLD PLANTATION TIME.

and full ready to subscribe to the old adage, " Misery loves company." I do not know at what hour we finally resigned our selves to our fate, and, after earnestly say ing our prayers, fell asleep, sobbing in each other's arms. We had speculated upon the probability of starving there slowly, had related time and again the mournful story of the " Babes in the Wood," and worked ourselves into quite an heroic state of mind, as we pictured the grief, instead of merriment, which would pervade each heart next day at the party, when our pro longed absence should be made known. I recall vividly the frantic efforts we made to make Aunt Dilsey hear us as she once passed near, carrying the unprepared re quirements for supper from the pantry, that being the nearest building to the one in which we were incarcerated. As Nette

A NIGHT'S IMPRISOmNMENT,

and Josephine can ied the shioking viands

to the house, we smelled, o^ fancied that

!

/!

the odors of coffee and -broiled chickens

greeted our nostrils; and we aggravated

*

/

our pangs of hunger^ by calling to mind

the fact that Aunt7 Dilsey had promised

to have buttered/wafers for supper, a dish

of which we /frere both particularly fond.

What visions of iced cakes, ranged on the

closet shelves, hear tempting brown-paper

packages which uncle Billie had brought

from/town the evening before, rose in our

d/eams that night! though fortunately our

"sleep was as calm as though we had been

safe in bed, in our respective grandmothers'

homes.

Early next morning we were liberated,

by the cover being again lifted to give the

stored grain the benefit of another day's-

sunshine. We were aroused from our sleep

.-.,.a....,'-

-----; -*-. t.-'.g^.--.

228

OLD PLANTATION TIME.

by a surprised grunt from Daddy York, who in a voice of thankful emotion said, " Bless de Lam'! Ef here ain' dem los* chilluns, an' dey ain' los' nuther! Ef dis had er ben er rainy day, dis truck in here wouldn't er ben opent ter de air, an' no tellin' how long fore der skillykins 'ould er ben foun', kase dis iz de fust uv de dorg days.1 Atter dey did come ter light, I spec dis ol' nigger 'ould er sot hisse'f down ez er chil'-killer, an' der sperrits 'ould er ha'nted me fur menny er year ter come, kase dey'd er died here, sho'." Lifting us
*
carefully down from our prison bed, he led us through the yard to the front door, where, with pine torches, drags, guns, and horns, we saw all the men

1 A superstition exists among the negroes, that rain falling on the first of the " dog-days " insures the same oh each suc cessive day throughout the entire forty.

A NIGHT'S IMPRISONMENT.

22Q

of the neighborhood assembled. Grandma and aunt) Ann were busying themselves in serving hot coffee to several acquaintances, all of whom bore the appearance of fatigue, and their countenances expressions of great anxiety. A loud cry of joy went up from the entire assembly as we appeared, each hugging tightly in her arms, the doll which hald been her companion during the ten hours passed in close confinement. Of course numerous questions were asked, though no time was given for answers, as the prevailing idea seemed to exist that we were famished; and not until we had been gorged, were we permitted to explain the
4
manner in which we lost ourselves. During the morning, Bet gave me a de
tailed account of the night's doings, from
I
the hour it was discovered we were miss ing, |until we appeared to relieve their

23

OLD PLANTATION TIME.

anxious fears. Grandma had felt no solici tude about my absence until quite late in the afternoon, when, upon sending Tiny and Siny to escort me from aunt Ann's, shs received the message. that I had not been seen since early morning, when, in company with cousin Liz, I had asked for Emma to pass the day with us at Holm Park. Emma, too, was reported missing: her grandmother, supposing she would spend the night with me, felt no uneasi ness when she failed to arrive at early supper hour. As it grew dark, cousin Will returned in his buggy from the city, and, upon hearing of our disappearance, mounted a fresh horse, and rode rapidly to cousin Liz's home, where he was quite sure he would find us, fancying that we had in our loneliness wandered off after her, and that the late hour at which we arrived had de-

A NIGHTS IMPRISONMENT.

231.

i
cided her mother to keep us there until morning. When told we had not been seen or heard from, he requested her father and one or two neighbors living near to accompany him to the Park. Reaching home, the negro men were called, and, mounted on horses or mules, went in every direction to make inquiries, and if not suc cessful in" finding us, were told to ask the gentlemen on each plantation, to come pre pared to join in the search which was im mediately instituted. It was well known that there were no wild beasts near; but a short time previous there had been a rov ing band through the county, calling them selves gypsies, and, only the day before, one of the men had been seen skulking in the thick undergrowth just above the millpond. Though none gave expression tothe thought, many acknowledged after-

232

OLD PLANTATION TIME.

wards, that in their keeping they confi dently expected to jind us, if, indeed, we were ever found. The night was passed in fruitless search, as you know. It had been agreed before separating, each party going in a different direction, that all should meet at dawn, provided the lost little ones were not found earlier, and that with the morning light the mill-pond should be drained and dragged, in hope of finding our bodies, if its treacherous waters had closed> over the forms of the two grandmothers* favorites. The procession was just being formed, headed by uncle Billie, with grappling hooks attached to long poles, when we were ushered by Daddy York into their midst. Cousin Will sat, worn and jaded, having been in the saddle all night, his arms crossed on the table before him, his head reclining on his

A NIGHT'S IMPRISONMENT.

233

clasped hands, while grandma vainly en deavored to peirsuade him to take .the proffered cup of coffee she held beside him. The lamps were still burning: their pale flames, together with the faint strug gling rays of early morning, cast a weird light which accorded well with the solemn hush in-doors; while in the yard just out side the house, the commands and direc tions necessary were given in low tones. The men, with coils of rope in addition to the necessary implements, were beginning to move down the hill, up which poor little
i Chip's limp and lifeless body had been
i borne that memorable day, when he had passed down it the last time, happy and light-hearted. The mournful procession was soon changed into one of fapturous exul tation, as the gl d intelligence of our advent was communicated, and expressions of

234

OLD PLANTATION TIME.

thankfulness for our restoration were heard on revery side. After an hour spent in general rejoicing, during which we repeated many times and oft the story as detailed above, the friendly neighbors separated to return to their respective homes, each bear ing many thanks for their prompt response to the now happy grandmothers' calls, in the sad hours when all thought some ter rible fate had overtaken their little ones, and so robbed them of their presence for ever. Messages were sent by the return ing neighbors, that the proposed party would be postponed one day, as Emma's still delicate health caused aunt Ann to fear that the excitement incident thereto, immediately succeeding the unusual expe rience of the night before, might induce a return of the low nervous fever from which she was but just now recovering. After

A NIGHT^S IMPRISONMENT.

235

this adventure, En-ma and I were warm friends; and, althou *h cousin Liz continued my favorite, she and I were firm allies, and as we grew older, the intimacy thus cemented ripened and expanded, till it be came one of the strongest attachments of our lives. Many times in later years we laughed over her argument in favor of saying our prayers, the night we spent in the granary, -- the first time either of us had ever repeated them, save at our mothers', grandmothers', or black ipamniy's knees: " Don't you know

'Paul and Silas bound in jail, Sung and prayed in spite of hell; For I want that trumpet I To blow me home To my new Jerusa/#/v,'" --

she recited, or rather sung, in that high

236

OLD PLANTATION TIME,

minor key in which negroes pitch nearly all their religious tunes. Emma's life had been spent in the lower section of the "cotton belt of Georgia;" and from the negroes she had learned the quotation given, which had proved such a solace to us the night that two were " bound in jail."
I am quite sure that Paul and Silas were never more devout than the two lost children who uttered "Now I lay me," in the darkness, uncertain as to whether God would be pleased with their petitions, be-

cause not offered kneeling, which position they, in their innocence, considered the only orthodox one of presenting them selves before him.

CHAPTER XV.
>
EMMA'S PARTY.

[HE party day dawned clear and

beautiful. A shower of rain,

falling the afternoon upon

which it had been originally

intended to celebrate Emma's nativity, rec

onciled her entirely to the postponement,

which all decided t her delicate health ren

dered imperative. Strange to say, neither

of us suffered | any inconvenience from the

closeness and want of fresh air in our

cramped and novel resting-place of the

i

I

*37

J- _J J' . ' .^ . ^^^A^,, ^

238

OLD PLANTATION

night before, and, save growing very weary of hearing our adventure so constantly commented upon, cared little for the event which made us quite noticeable through out the neighborhood, and emphatically heroines among our juvenile acquaintance. Promptly at two o'clock the children began to arrive, many of them accompanied by their mothers or older sisters. Emma, cousin Liz, and I received them, and stood by while their rumpled toilets were smoothed, hair arranged, and, in some in stances, dresses changed. All had ridden, some on horseback; and one party of a dozen came the five-mile distance from their homes in a wagon, drawn by four mules. A noisy, laughing crowd it was; certainly a jollier one did not attend the party. I wonder what you little ones of to-day would think of going to a party,

EMMA 'S PARTY.

239

dressed as some of those children were?

Numbers came in calico dresses and white

aprons, no gloves were visible, while bare

feet were as numerous as those clad in i
shoes and stockings; and many a tied-up

toe testified to a stumping received n the

previous day's adventures. There was no

dancing, biit merry games were played.

" Old Dame Wiggins " had " as many lives

as a cat," it is to be presumed from the

number of times she i died that afternoon; while " Bishop Winchester's Cap" was lost

and found repeatedly. Circles Were formed ;

and the " many, many stars," of which the

children sang, were only equalled by the

many, many kisses given and received by

*

^

the happy throng. " Miss Ginnie Ann

Jones" was brought through various at

tacks of illness in one room; while the

"rose-y bush" was gone "round" in the"

240

OLD PLANTATION TIME.

other, until some of the children became dizzy. Cousin Will, uncle Billie, and many of the grown sisters joined heartily in the games, omitting the kissing, however, among themselves. At four supper was announced. Emma headed the company, which marched in order into the diningroom, keeping time to the piano, where cousin Will lingered in conversation with a young lady from the city, who had already contributed greatly to the children's pleasure by entering into their plays, and introducing several new ones to which they were unaccustomed. I wish I could give you some faint idea of the appearance of the tables, laden with substantiate, fruits, cakes, and delicacies which good aunt Ann had prepared for that birthday party. When we entered the dining-room, their "abundant supplies were almost appalling; and the

>S PARTY.

241

whispered inqury went around, "Are we

expected to eat all spread before us on

these three long tables?" This was em

phatically a children's party, jirecedfence

being given them at table, the elder mem

bers of the company ranging themselves

behind the children, ready to serve the

viands after uncle James's solemn blessing

was asked. Each child was pressed to eat

more, until all were willing to exclaim,

" Hold, enough!" Then, passing out of the

room, the grown-up people took the vacant

places, where, doubtless, they Jdid ample

justice to the store of good things, which

it seemed would never be exhausted.

While they were thus engaged, tjhe chil-

dren

continued

"I
their

"i
romping

*'
games,

their

shouts of laughter testifying that there

were no dyspeptics among the joyous

crowId. In an hoa" r the doors closed be-

,i

24?

OLD PLANTATION TIME.

hind the last visitor; when, all assembling
in the parlor and adjacent veranda, it was
proposed that some one should tell a
story, during the recital of which the chil-
\
dren .should rest from the fatiguing plays
they had indulged in, preparatory to their
long rides home. " Cousin Will's young
>
lady," as many called her to whom her
name was unknown, having been unani
mously chosen to thus entertain them, she
told the following story, to which all lis
tened with evident delight.

WHAT THE CRICKET SAID TO FLORA.
One summer day, on the suburbs of a crowded city, a little girl was playing alone. Her home was in the midst of a large garden, surrounded by trees of many beau tiful varieties,--oaks and poplars, silver maples and magnolias; so that it was cool

EMMA*S PARTY.

243

and shaded, even in long summer days, when the southern sun came pouring in fierce rays from his home behind the floating clouds. In thi centre of the garden was a lovely fountain; and in the pool formed by the falling water, were gold and silver fish, a tiny terrapin, and a funny dried-up little toad-frog. All of them knew and loved the gentle child, and came at her bidding to the water's edge, there to feed upon the crumbs she daily brought them. There were tall, slender lilies from the far-distant Nile, and the ever-prized pond-lilies which beauty-loving Nature has so lavishly strewn upon the bosom of every sheet of water all over our bright land; while native ferns clustered 'neath the rocky margin, where spray from the fountain kept them fresh and verdant. One would suppose this favored little girl might have found amuse- "

244

OLD PLANTATION TIME.

ment and pleasure in the beauties sur-
j
rounding her. The garden was indeed a lovely expanse of flowers: they bloomed in every variety and great luxuriance. There
\
were .birds singing in the trees, and rustic seats and arbors where she might rest when wearied with chasing butterflies and bright-winged humming-birds, as they sipped honey from roses, asters, and aza leas. But the longing for change came upon her, as to Adam and Eve in their garden; and, like them, little Flora had grown discontented. For some time she wandered aimlessly around under the shade, then played with the fish and flow ers. Wearied with these, she exclaimed, "I know what I'll do! I'll just sit right down here, and have a real good time all by myself. I am going to make mud pies and dirt cakes, till I am tired stirring the

EMMA *S PARTY.

245

batter. But won't I have a good time? I'll make strawberry cakes, and raspberry tarts, andI set 'em i.n a row to dry: this flower-jar will 'zackly do to turn 'em out of; and where that little hole is, I'll stick in a bunch of flowers, just like I saw the 'fectionery man doing, when sister had her party. Oh my, this is jolly!" said Flora. Meanwhile, she had kept time with her busy little tongue, in her festal prepara^ tions.. .Water was dipped from the foun tain, i while sand was brought from the carefully rolled walks; and the "batter" was quickly made* A long row of cakes and pies were soon decorating the border of the fountain; and in haste she ran to the strawberry-bed, to gather berries' for the flavoring. Several visits she had made, when, seeing a little cricket bound from beneath one of the bunches of berries,

246

OLD PLANTATION TIME.

where, doubtless, she had been feasting, Flora seized upon and insisted on carry ing her to the party. " I'll give you the nicest place at the table, on a big cake all
\
dressed up with little white shells, and a bouquet on top of it, if you will just stop tickling my hand so, Mrs. Cricket. Do be still, and don't be 'fraid of me. I'm Flora ; and I know you must have seen me many a time, if youVe lived long in our garden," she said. But the cricket was not very quiet, even after this introduction; and great was Flora's surprise upon opening her hand, to find, instead of the cricket, a tiny little old hump-backed woman, with a wrinkled face, and blue spectacles on her queer turned-up nose. Under her arm she carried an umbrella, and in her hand a staff. As Flora seated this unexpected visitor on top of the very biggest cake,

EMMA 'S PARTY.

f 247

she made her a sober bow, though she felt very much more like laughing. " Now, my young friend, go on with your preparations, and receive your guests. Give them all as much attention as you have shown me," said Mrs. Cricket, "and they will be satis fied." -- " Well," thought Flora, "I don't know where my company is to come from, unless some more things turn into people^ like you did," but to Mrs. Cricket she said, " I don't expect any others, so you can just help yourself, and take some of the pies and cakes home to your family." -- "Well, I declare, that's very clever ; and I guess I shall have to tell you something about my family, to pay you for ybur hospitality. I will clear my sight a little, by getting my friend Mr. T. Frog to breathe upon m^ glasses, and Mrs. G. Fish to brush them dry with a slight; touch of her left fin, if^

hK~t^*tld

248

OLD PLANTATION TIME.

they will so accommodate an old acquaint ance," Mrs. Cricket jumped down from her seat, chirped gayly a note or two, when up out of the water came the toad and goldfish. Flora dared not look too closely, or listen too attentively to the conference held between them ; but Mrs. Cricket doubt less performed some little mysteries of the toilet by the bright water's reflections, as she returned to her seat with her spectacles shining, and herself looking quite " spic and span."
" Now I am ready to commence my family history, while I munch this delicious berry: umph! umph ! " she said, clearing her throat, and drawing herself up to her full height, in a manner peculiar to orators. " Many long years ago, when people first commenced to build houses," said the cricket, " there was a mason who was lame,

EMMA >S PARTY.

249

had also a crooked neck. Did you ever see any one with what is called a ' crick in the neck ' ? Well, you know the neck takes a kind of twist, and gets stiff in that position; and when the crick has once taken a seat there, a bad pain accom panies every turn of the head: Now, this
i
old lame crooked-necked mason was always
singing gayly over his work, or/whistling,
even when his wife at home/^and his little children, had barely the necessaries of life. But in spite of his trou bles, he was always in a good humorI,!and had a pleas. ant wo. rd for every one. When the pain and stiffness i first came in his neck, he told one of the other masons, ' It's a little crick of pain running down my old neck like a little crick of water down a rough hillside;' so in this way they got to asking every day about his * crick,' and always received a bright,

250

OLD PLANTATION TIME.

cheerful answer, no matter how badly it pained him. It went on so for a long time; for it was a great temple they were building, and it required the labors of many men a long term of years to com plete it. Long before it was finished, the lame mason's wife died; and, though his heart was heavy and sad, he made no com plaint, but went about his work, and did his task with the best of them. His chil dren grew up, _ and some labored beside him \ and yet, strange as it may appear, no one had ever asked his name. When first he came, among themselves they called him ' Peg/ because he had a wooden leg; but after a while they began calling him * Crick' from his crooked neck, and so at last he was known as Cricket. Finally the temple was finished, and the workmen were preparing to move their effects to

EMMA 'S PARTY.

251

i
other buildings upon which they had employed. The lame mason, with ceepdrawn sighs, anc eyes 'filled with sad tears, looked upon h s well-worn tools, as he laid, them in the cart which was removing the implements that ihad been used about the building. To one of his co-laborers he said, ' My last job is ended; my frame is wearied, and my strength is gone. I shall go home to my Icnely cottage, arid soon pass away.' His friend tried to cheer him, for it was the first time he hid ever known him to repine, and bade him hope for hap-
t
piness in the little home his industry and honesty had gained him. While talking thus, he stooped and picked up one of the tools which had evidently been forgotten; and, as he threw it in the cart standing near, a queer little brown bug jumped upon his hand, then upon his arm, and

OLD PLANTATION TIME.
nestled down in the sleeve which covered his once-brawny arm. The friends soon parted, with kindly words on either side; and ' Good-by, Jones/ ' Farewell, Cricket,' was said, as they left the scene where so many days na<^ been spent in pleasant companionship. All this time, the little brown bug was safe in old Cricket's sleeve, though she kept very quiet for fear of dis turbing her new-found friend. That night as he sat in his lonely room beside the fire, and drank his cup of tea, the bug felt strongly tempted to come from out her hiding-place, and pick up a few of the crumbs which fell from Cricket's toast, but concluded that the time had not yet ar rived for presenting herself. When Cricket had smoked his evening pipe, and read his Good Book, he made ready to go to his bed, and sleep until morning should dawn

'S PARTY.

253

upon the first week-day in which he should have no task. After carefully covering the bed of coals with the ashes which remained in the fireplace, he took off his coat, rolled up his sleeve, and -- the little bug hopped out with a merry chirp, right into the palm of his hand. There she sat and sang her song, and old Cricket smiled at her happi ness. j 'Why, it's the very little bug which ran up my sleeve this evening! What a mierry little thing it is ! I'll just put it right here in this corner where it will keep warm; and when I am here alone maybe i't wIill sing, and en liven my quiet home, if I feed and make it comfortable.' So the little bug got its supper by waiting patiently, and a warm place in the chimney-

corner. Thus it continued a great many weeks, until little bug learned to know and love her master. He exhibited to all

254

OLD PLANTATION TIME.

who came to visit him, the companion of his lonely hours; so by and by the bug had quite a circle of acquaintance, and many an one had said, 'Why, you can
\
never be lonely, if your children are gone, you have such a merry songster. Happy must be the fireside where such a song is sung.' All tnis while, for some hours each day, the bug had missed her friend. Regularly every morning he put on his hat, and, taking his staff in hand, he locked the door behind him; and for some hours the bug would be left in solitude. One day as she sat dozing by the fire, the old man held out his hand, and she hopped into the palm which had never closed against her. * I will carry my little friend to make music in the temple,' he said: 'it seems so lonely, and like a tomb when I enter it every day.' Though the temple

EMMA 'S PARTY.

255

had been some time completed, it was not considered safe to gather so many people as it was intended to accommodate, till the walls should dry, and the masonry become settled. The old man went each day to visit the scene of his last labor, and to wander in the aisles and i vaulted arches, which were soon to echo to other soi unds than the mason's chisel and the stone cutter's hammer. Here he bore his little companion; and, after hours spent in walk ing musingly around, he would open his palm, she would nestle into his slei eve, and so be carried home again for the evening meal, and song in the corner. One day, however, the old man had staid away so long from! his littl^ friend, she began to grow anxious at the delay. He had, car* ried her tenderly, and placed her carefully in the old familiar corner; she had sung

256

OLD PLANTATION TIME.

her throat dry, and her voice grew husky. It began to get dark and col\d in the great stone temple; and little bug felt a strange loneliness as the sun's last rays
X
kissecl the colored panes in the windows, and still she sat alone. Presently she re membered the direction in which her friend always walked, for she could hear his wooden peg as it struck on the tiled floor: so she started on a tour of search and observation. Down many an aisle she wandered, chirping and calling for the master who was always kind. Finally, just in front of her she saw a great obstacle in her immediate path, and at once concluded that her friend too had seen it; and, fancy ing some part ,of the ceiling had fallen, supposed he had gone to bring some of the old laborers to repair the damage. Thinking he had been detained on this

EMMA *S PARTY.
mission, she hopped on the obstruction to examine the extent of the mischief; when, to her sorrow, she found her old friend had grown weary, and fallen asleep on the
cold stone floor. Little bug knew he was
accustomed to his own warm fireside at this hour of the evening, and chirped and sung in her loudest tones to waken him.
She crept into his bosom when she de-
' spaired of waking him with her calls, and found it cold as the tiled floor on which he lay. But still she knew he was her
good friend; and she would not forsake
him, but resolved to try and warm the
cold bosom that had sheltered her many
times when the fire was dead on the hearth, and the winter wind blew cold" without. Fpr two long days and nights she lay there: (the old man never movd,
and all her calls failed to arouse him.
_ -Lj^yara. L*

258

OLD PLANTATION TIME.

Then the neighbors came and found him, stiff and cold in death, the little bug still chirping in his bosom.
" Then they carried him away, and buried \
him. Many would have adopted his hum ble little friend; but all decided she should be taken back to the temple where he had labored, where he had found her, where he had died, and that each day some one of them should carry her the crumbs which had never failed to fall from his hand as he ate his evening meal, and she sang the song of gladness and gratitude which filled her heart, and made his fireside cheerful. So she was taken to the temple; and when they left her there they said, 'Surely old Cricket's spirit is in her, for she is as bright and happy as he was;' and Cricket they called her from that day. Now, my dear little Flora, that is my true family

1
EMMA *S PARTY.
history. It teaches some lessons which it will be well for you to learn while yoii are still youthful. The time can never come, my dear, when you will not have some friend left you, if you. will only, like the little cricket, sing the song of cheerful ness, and by sp doing keep one spot warm in some bosom, even though its owner should wear a plain garb, and limp in
i
walking, as did old Cricke the mason. Since those early days all otr family have been called Crick its, and al of us musical, though I doubt very much if ay
.' 1
of Us have sung its sweetly as our ances tress, who acquired a hopping gait to ke<$> her old friend from comparing .bis lam 2ness with her ni nble footsteps, * as sht e accompanied him ibout the house, always cheerful and contented. And do y know/ my child, that those village people's

OLD PLANTATION TIME.
remarks about her have been handed down from one generation to another, until * Happy is the hearth that the cricket chirps on/ is as frequently uttered as kindly deeds are done, and pleasant words are spoken. Good-by, my dear: you have been very attentive, and I have enjoyed my talk with you very much." Thus hop ping and chirping, the cricket bade goodby to Flora, who was rubbing her eyes, and staring vacantly around her; for she had fallen asleep, and the cricket's story was only a dream, after all. The straw berry cakes and raspberry tarts had dried and crumbled in the sun, which was now growing low in the west; and mamma was calling loudly for the little girl who had been so long out of sight, she feared some mischievous occupation was detaining her. When Flora told her of the cricket's

EMMA'S PARTY.

261

story, she smilec and said, "Another les son it should te<ch, dear: there is nothing too small or too humble i:o appreciate a kindness."

The sun was casting long shadows, as

the story drew to a close. The children

all thanked thei new friend for the pleas

ure she had given them; and several boys

>'

j

declared they w mid never fish with | an-

i
other cricket, s> deeply were they Jim-

pressed with t ic importance of those

insects. The various carriages, buggies,

and wagons were driven successively to

the gate; the horses were guided to !the

blocks, from wnich their riders were! to

mount them, wnile good-bys and gjood

wishes were exchanged among the

dren. As each one approached aunt Ann,

a bundle was g ven, containing some of

262

OLD PLANTATION TIME.

the cake, which they were instructed to bestow upon the baby brothers and sistersJ who were too small to join the festive crowd which had celebrated so delight fully my cousin Emma's ninth birthday.
Every thing passed off pleasantly, save that Emma's unfortunate propensity for getting into trouble asserted itself; and a painful reminder that " appearances are sometimes deceiving" was the result of a venture on her part, to include a shy, meek-looking youth in the merry-making, who had thus far held himself aloof, refus ing all participation in our enjoyment. When the game of "Many, many stars" was introduced,. Emma was selected first to take her place in the centre, while the children joined hands, forming a circle, and, passing around her, sang these lines: --

EMMA^S PARTY.

. 263

" Many, many stars are in the skies, As old, as old as Adam:
Down upon your knees, And kiss whom you please
Of your humble servants, madam."

The afore-mentioned timid-looking youth, evidently did not consider himself one of the "madam's humble servants," although he knelt w\ ith the others in token that he
was ready to receive the kiss of favor. Emma, intending to make him feel more at ease, approached and kissed him, ex pecting him to feel quite complimented at being thus selected to take her place in the ring. Instead, however, of receiving this honor from the prettiest girl there assembled, in the spirit in which it was offered, he planted his sharp teeth in Emma's cheek, causing her to cry out'
r with pain, as he rushed wildly from the

264

OLD PLANTATION TIME.

room, jumped on his horse, and galloped to the home of his uncle, where he was paying a visit. The game was, of course, broken up in confusion; as all gathered around Emma, to inquire into the cause of such singular behavior on the part of the shy, quiet guest, with whom but few of the children were acquainted, his uncle having recently moved from a distant por tion of the State. The wound was soon bathed, and suitably dressed, order was restored, and in a few moments the happy children resumed the play which had been so unexpectedly interrupted. The small white seams on Emma's cheek gradually wore away, but were plainly visible as a personable reminder of that day's varied experience, long after its pleasures were but faint memories with many who shared its festivities. She declared ever after,

EMMA 'S PARTY.
that noisy, bad boys were her avoir and meek-looking ones her peculiar aver sion. Who can wonder that she felt this reluctance to "trust in appearances/1 wh< they alone were the only criterion which she could Judge character or dis position ? Many years after, Emma and her quondam enemy met in society; she,
i
of course, failing to recoguize him with all the changes the inteivening years had wrought, though he decLired her face was so deeply engraved upon his memory that he at once knew her, a id was surprised to find that the impress on he made on her was not such that time nor change could efface nis image jfrom her mind. They became fast friends that winter; and, in referring to that neVer-to-be-forg otten party, he confided to her, that the outburst of temper manifested on that occasion was

206

OLD PLANTATION TIME.

the last he ever gave vent to; the morti fication he suffered for days succeeding his ferocious attack upon her, having taught him a lesson which proved of in estimable benefit in his whole after life. She assured him of forgiveness, laughingly saying it was the one memento bestowed that day, of which she then had even the slightest remains; the others, having been of a less lasting, though at the time of a far more pleasant, character, were lost or destroyed in her childhood.