On the plantation : a story of a Georgia boy's adventures during the war / by Joel Chandler Harris

BY THE SAME AUTHOR.

UNCLE REMUS: His Songs and His Sayings. The Folk-Lore of the Old Plantation. With Illustrations by F. S. Church and J. H. Moser, of Georgia. I2mo. .Cloth, $1.50.

btreibrueutgiToanrhdeetodvotalhusemaelihtiuesrmaaoturmoreuosso,tfbroefooakldkam-bloleerree.olyn,e,oNwreahvsaetahYceoorrnikt

World.

"A thoroughly amusing book, and much the best

humorous American

compilation public for

that has been put before the many a day." Philadelphia

Telegraph.

" The idea of preserving and publishing these le

algicetetnurdaasrllyiyncttoehQnecetfhpoetrimmon,isnisowfahltithcoehgedtthaheye.rolodAnpneldaonvftearttyhioeandhmnaepigrpariboeelsyst is the work done." London Spectator,

" Mr. Harriss book may be looked on in a double

afsf(fobatisoglmrkroahi-itellhtoisvaereatrreoli,.utlwdhabbirebtTulhryedodaapcesNlotray)nonaptrtRriaticphbatailebuoelrtbnanioiostlandlrniemftcteaooa,dvyleowoorrulsbheuredomtshmenoheomaavrnvseeeetcwlto.oohrluyiaasnTttcteooihmnnfiegletddhBa,ogtrhsoeteoeerrr

these quaint niscences of

old stories, some good

who old

have still tender manma who told

wondrous dren, Brer

adventures Rabbit, the

to them when Tar Baby, and

they were Brer Fox

remi these chil come

hack again with all the past pleasures of younger

days." New Ycrk Times.

arerveivvuaeUlrynsocsnlhegrseRwaedmreuascnhdsoibscareiygishnpgte,scaimonndenctshureorfepnlttahnehtiaarptispooennritan.ng"ds

Boston Journal. -

New Yorkt D. APPLETON & CO., Publishers.

ON THE PLANTATION
A STORY OF A GEORGIA BOYS ADVENTURES DURING THE WAR
BY
JOEL CHANDLER Hi(>ARRIS
AUTHOR OF UNCLE REMUS WITH TWENTY-THREE ILLUSTRATIONS BY E. W. KEMBLE
NEW YORK D. APPLETON AND COMPANY
1892

COPYRIGHT, 1892, BY D. APPLETON AND COMPANY.
Ix
292.
EtEcnayrypED ANO PBIXTED AT THE APPLBTON PRESS, U. S. A.

TO THE MEMORY OF
JOSEPH ADDISON TURNER
LAWYER, EDITOR, SCHOLAR, PLANTER, AND PHILANTHROPIST THIS MIXTURE OF FACT AND FICTION IS INSCRIBED

INTRODUCTORY NOTE.
SOME of my friends who have read in serial form the chronicles that follow profess to find in them something more than an autobiograph ical touch. Be it so. It would indeed be dif ficult to invest the commonplace character and adventures of Joe Maxwell with the vitality that belongs to fiction. Nevertheless, the lad himself, and the events which are herein de scribed, seem to have been born of a dream. That which is fiction pure and simple in these pages bears to me the stamp of truth, and that which is true reads like a clumsy invention. In this matter it is not for me to prompt the reader. He must sift the fact from the fiction and label it to suit himself.
J. C. H.

CONTENTS.
CHAPTER
INTRODUCTORY NOTE . I.--JOE MAXWELL MAKES A START
II.--A PLANTATION NEWSPAPER
III.--TRACKING A RUNAWAY IV.--SHADOWS OF THE WAR . V.--MR. WALL'S STORY . . .
VI.--THE OWL AND THE BIRDS
VII.--OLD ZIP COON , . . VIII.--SOMETHING ABOUT M SANDY CLAUS'
IX.--DESERTERS AND RUNAWAYS
X.--THE STORY-TELLERS XL--THE RELIEF COMMITTEE .
XII.--A GEORGIA FOX-HUNT XIII.--A NIGHT'S ADVENTURES . XIV.--THE CURTAIN FALLS .

PAGE
vii I
21
34 4C 57 70 83 104
122
. 162 . 182 .202 . 223

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

PAGE
Mr. Deometari put on his uniform . . . . . 5

He talks bigger than anybody . . . .. . 17

Mr. Snelson as Richard III . . . . . . .26

Mink . . . . . . . . . . . ' 3.1

" Hit make me dribble at de mouf" . . ..... 46

Joe returns from a rabbit-hunt . , . ... 52

He was always ready for an argument . . .

-55

" He helt the acorn to his ear" . . . . . . 61

" He des sot dar, he did, an' look at um " . . . . 78

Old Zip Coon . . . . . . . . . .84

Zimzi . . . . . . . . . . .123

Injun Bill, whose reputation was very bad .... 132

" Dey went ter frolickin* up an1 down de fiel' " ... 142

" De buzzud ax de big Injun what make him look so lone

some "

. . . . 146

Brer Rabbit preaches . . . .

. . .154

Captain Johnson . . . . . . . . . 166

" Some of the men dropped on the ground and declared that they would go no farther" . . . . . . 173

xn

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

Pray for it, boys !" Old Sandy leaped into the air. The messenger .... The door attendant Even the negroes were frightened . A forager

PACK . 179 . IQ5 . 203 . 211 . 225 . 228

ON THE PLANTATION.
CHAPTER I.
JOE MAXWELL MAKES A START.
THE post-office in the middle Georgia village of Hillsborough used to be a queer little place, whatever it is now. It was fitted up in a cellar; and the postmaster, who was an en terprising gentleman from Connecticut, had ar ranged matters so that those who went after their letters and papers could at the same time get their grocery supplies.
Over against the wall on one side was a faded green sofa. It was not an inviting seat, for in some places the springs peeped through, and one of its legs was broken, giving it a sus picious tilt against the wall. But a certain lit tle boy found one corner of the rickety old sofa a very comfortable place, and he used to

2

ON THE PLANTATION.

*
curl up there nearly every day, reading such

stray newspapers as he could lay hands on, and

watching the people come and go.

To the little boy the stock of goods dis

played for sale was as curious in its variety as

the people who called day after day for the let

ters that came or that failed to come. To some

dainty persons the mingled odor of cheese, cam-

phene, and mackerel would have been disagree

able; but Joe Maxwell that was the name of

the little boy had a healthy disposition and a

strong stomach, and he thought the queer little

post-office was one of the pleasantest places in

the world.

A partition of woodwork and wire netting

cut off the post-office and the little stock of

groceries from the public at large, but outside

of that was an area where a good many people

could stand and wait for their letters. In one

corner of this area was the rickety green sofa,

and round about were chairs and boxes and

barrels on which tired people could rest them

selves. " .

. The Milledgeville papers had a large circu

lation in the county. They were printed at the

capital of the State, and were thought to be

.^. . .

&.:..*

. _ -"> .. ' '.

' .'*.-" ".- -.

JOE MAXWELL MAKES A START. . 3

very important on that account. They had so

many readers in the neighborhood that the

postmaster, in order to save time and trouble,

used to pile them up on a long shelf outside the

wooden partition, where each subscriber could

help himself. Joe Maxwell took advantage of

this method, and on Tuesdays, when the Mil--

ledgeville papers arrived, he could always be

.I

found curled up in the corner of the old green

sofa reading the Recorder and the Federal Union.

What he found in those papers to interest him

it would be hard to say. They were full of

political essays that were popular in those days,

and they had long reports of political conven

tions, and meetings from all parts of the State.

They were papers for grown people, and Joe

Maxwell was only twelve years old, and small

for his age.

There was another place that Joe found it

pleasant to visit, and that was a lawyer's office

in one of the rooms of the old tavern that

looked out on the pillared veranda. It was a

pleasant place to him, not because it was a law-

office^ but because it was the office of a gentle-

man who was very friendly to the youngster.

The gentleman's name was Mr. Deometari, and

4
i

ON THE PLANTATION.

Joe called him Mr. Deo, as did the other people

of Hillsborough. He was fat and short and i
wore whiskers, which gave him a peculiar ap

pearance at that time. All the rest of the men

that Joe knew wore either a full beard or a

mustache and an imperial. For that reason Mr.

Deometari's whiskers were very queer-looking.

He was a Greek, and there was a rumor among

the people about town that he had been com

pelled to leave his country on account of his

politics. Joe never knew until long afterward

that politics could be a crime. He thought that

politics consisted .partly in newspaper articles

signed " Old Subscriber" and " Many Citizens "

and " Vox Populi" and " Scrutator," and partly

in arguments between the men who sat in fine

weather on the dry-goods boxes under the

china-trees. But there was a mystery about

Mr, Dieometari, and it pleased the lad to imagine all sorts of romantic stories about the fat

lawyer. Although Mr. Deometari was a Greek,

there was no foreign twang to his tongue.

Only as close an observer as the boy could

have told from his talk that he was a foreigner.

He was a good lawyer and a good speaker, and

all the Other lawyers seemed to like him. They

JOE MAXWELL MAKES A START.

5

enjoyed his company so well that it was only occasionally that Joe found him in his offtoe alone. Once Mr. Deometari took from his

Mr. Deometari put on his uniform.
closet a military uniform and put it on. Joe Maxwell thought it was the most beautiful uni form he had ever seen. Gold braid ran down
2

0

ON THE PLANTATION.

the sides of the trousers, gold cords hung loosely on the breast of the coat, and a pair of tremendous epaulets surmounted the shoul ders. The hat was something like the hats Joe had seen in picture-books. It Was caught up at the sides with little gold buttons, and trimmed with a long black feather that shone like a pig eon's breast. Fat as Mr. Deometari was, the lad thought he looked very handsome in his fine uniform. This was only one incident. In his room, which was a large one, Mr. Deometari had boxes packed with books, and he gave Joe leave to ransack them. Many of the volumes were in strange tongues, but among them were some quaint old English books, and these the lad relished beyond measure. After a while Mr. Deometari closed his office and went away to the war.
It would not be fair to say that Joe was a studious lad. On the contrary, he was of an adventurous turn of mind, and he was not at all fond Of the books that were in his desk at Hillsborough Academy. He was full of all sorts of pranks and capers, and there were plenty ol people in the little town ready to declare that he would come to some bad end if he was not

JOE MAXWELL MAKES A START.

7

more frequently dosed with what the old folks used to call hickory oil. Some of Joe Maxwell's pranks were commonplace, but others were in genious enough to give him quite a reputa tion for humor/and one prank in particular is talked of by the middle-aged people of Hills-
borough to this day. The teacher of the academy had organized a
military company among the pupils--it was just about the time when rumors and hints of Avar had begun to take shape--and a good deal of interest was felt in the organization, especially by the older boys. Of this company Joe Max well was the fourth corporal, a position which gave him a place at the foot of the company,
.D
The Hillsborough Cadets drilled every schoolday, and sometimes on Saturdays, and they soon grew to be very proud of their profi ciency.
At last, after a good deal of manoeuvring on the playgrounds and in the public square, the teacher, who was the captain, concluded that the boys had earned a vacation, and it was de cided that the company should go into camp for a week on the Oconee.River, and fish and hunt and have a good time generally. The boys

8

ON THE PLANTATION.

fairly went wild when the announcement was made, and some of them wanted to hug the teacher, who had hard work to explain that an attempt of this sort was not in accord with mili tary tactics or discipline.
All the arrangements were duly made. Tents were borrowed from the Hillsborough Rifles, and the drum corps of that company was hired to make music. A half-dozen wagons carried the camp outfit and the small boys, while the larger ones marched. It was an entirely new experience for Joe Maxwell, and he enjoyed it as only a healthy and high-spirited boy could enjoy it. The formal and solemn way in which the guard was mounted was very funny to him, and the temptation to make a joke of it was too strong to be resisted.
The tents were pitched facing each other, with the officers* tent at the head of the line thus formed. At the other end of the lane and a little to the rear was the baggage-tent, in which the trunks, boxes, and commissaries were stored. Outside of all, the four sentinels marched up and down. The tents were pitched in an old field that was used as a pasture, and Joe noticed during the afternoon two mules and a horse

JOE MAXWELL MAKES A STARJ.

9

browsing around. He noticed, too, that these

animals were very much disturbed, especially

when the drums began to beat, and that their

/

*

'

curiosity would not permit them to get very far

Y
from the camp, no matter how frightened they

were.

It happened that one of Joe's messmates was

to go on guard duty at twelve o'clock that

night. He was a fat, awkward, good-natured

fellow, this messmate, and a heavy sleeper, too,

so that, when the corporal of the guard under

took to arouse him, all the boys in the tent were

awakened. All except Joe quickly went to sleep

again, but this enterprising youngster quietly

put on his clothes, and, in the confusion of

changing the guard, slipped out of the lines

and hid in a convenient gully not far from the

camp.

It was his intention to worry if not to fright

en his messmate, and while he lay there trying

to think out the best plan to pursue, he heard

the horse and mules trampling and snorting not

very far off. Their curiosity was not yet satis

fied, and they seemed to be making their way

toward the camp for the purpose of reconnoi-

tering. Joe's mind was made up in an instant.

10

ON THE PLANTATION.

He slipped down the gully until the animals were between him and the camp, and then, seiz ing a large pine brush that happened to be lying near, he sprang toward them. The mules and horse were ripe for a stampede. The camp it self was an object of suspicion, and this attack from an unexpected quarter was too much for them. Snorting with terror they rushed in the direction of the tents. The sleepy sentinel, hear ing them coming, fired his gun in the air and ran yelling into the camp, followed by the horse and one of the mules. The other mule shied to
s
the right when the gun was fired, and ran into the baggage-tent. There was a tremendous rat tle and clatter of boxes, pots, pans, and crockery ware. The mule, crazed with fright, made a vio lent effort to get through the tent, but it caught him in some way. Finally, the ropes that held it down gave way, and the mule, with the tent flapping and flopping on his back, turned and rushed through the camp. To all but Joe Max well it was a horrifying sight. Many of the boys, as the saying is, " took to the woods," and some of them were prostrated with fright. These were consequences that Joe had not counted on, and it was a long time before he confessed

JOE MAXWELL MAKES A START.

If

to his share in the night's sport. The results reached further than the camp. In another part of the plantation the negroes were holding a re vival meeting in the open air, preaching and shouting and singing. Toward this familiar scene the mule made his way, squealing, bray ing, and kicking, the big white tent flopping on his back. As the terrified animal circled around the place, the negroes cried out that Satan had come, and the panic that ensued among them is not easily described. Many thought that the apparition was the ushering in of the "judgmentday, while by far the greater number firmly be lieved that the " Old Boy " himself was after them. The uproar they made could be plainly heard at the camp, more than a'mile away-- shrieks, screams, yells, and cries for mercy. After it was all over, and Joe Maxwell had crept quietly to bed, the thought came to him that it was .not such a fine joke, after all, and he lay awake along time repenting the night's work. He heard the next day that nobody had been hurt and that no serious damage had been done, but it was many weeks before he forgave himself for his thoughtless prank.
Although Joe was fond of fun, and had a

. .V

12

ON THE PLANTATION.

great desire to be a clown in a circus or to be the driver of a stage-coach--just such a red and yellow coach, with " U. S. M." painted on its doors, as used to carry passengers and the mails between Hillsborough and Rockville--he never permitted his mind to dwell on these things. He knew very well that the time would soon come when he would have to support his mother and himself. This thought used to come to him again and again when he was sit ting in the little post-office, reading the Milledgeville papers.
It so happened that these papers grew very interesting to both old and young as the days went by. The rumors o; war had developed into war itself. In the course of a few months two companies of volunteers had gone to Vir ginia from Hillsborough, and the little town seemed to be lonelier and more deserted than ever. Joe Maxwell noticed, as he sat in the post-office, that only a very few old men and ladies came after the letters and papers, and he missed a great many faces that used to smile at him as he sat reading, and some of them he never saw again. He noticed, too, that when there had been a battle or a skirmish the ladies

JOE MAXWELL MAKES A START.

13

and young girls came to the post-office more frequently. When the news was very impor tant, one of the best-known citizens would mount a chair or a dry-goods box and read the telegrams aloud to the waiting and anxious group of people, and sometimes the hands and the voice of the reader trembled.
One day while Joe Maxwell was sitting ui the post-office looking over the Milledgeville papers, his eye fell on an advertisement that interested him greatly. It seemed to bring the whole world nearer to him. The adver tisement set forth the fact that on next Tues day the first number of The Countryman, a week ly paper would be published. It would be modeled after Mr. Addison's little paper, the Spectator, Mr. Goldsmith's little paper, the Bee, _and Mr. Johnson's little paper, the Rambler. It would be edited by J. A. Turner, and it would be issued on the plantation of the editor, nine miles from Hillsborough. Joe read this adver tisement over a dozen times, and it was with a great deal of impatience that he waited for the next Tuesday to come.
But the day did come, and with it came the first issue of The Countryman. Joe read it from

'. -. 14

-

.

ON THE PLANTATION.

beginning to end, advertisements and all, and he thought it was the most entertaining little paper he had ever seen. Among the interest ing things was an announcement by the editor that he wanted a boy to learn the printing ". business. Joe borrowed pen and ink and some paper from the friendly postmaster, and wrote a letter to the editor, saying that he would be glad to learn the printing business. The letter was no doubt an awkward one, but it served its purpose, for when the. editor of The Countryman came to Hillsborough he hunted Joe up, and told him to get ready to go to the plantation. The lad, not without some misgivings, put away his tops and marbles, packed his little belong ings in an old-fashioned trunk, kissed his mother and his grandmother good-by, and set forth on what turned out to be the most important jour ney of his life.
Sitting in the buggy by the side of the ed itor and publisher of The Countryman, Joe Max well felt lonely indeed, and this feeling was in creased as he went through the little town and heard his schoolmates, who were at their mar bles on the public square, bidding him goodby. He could hardly keep back his tears at

I?J

.

}

i

JOE MAXWELL MAKES A START.

1$

this, but, on looking around after the buggy had gone a little way, he saw his friends had returned to their marbles, and the thought struck him that he was already forgotten. Many and many a time after that he thought of his little companions and how quickly they had returned to their marbles.
The editor of The Countryman must have di vined what was passing in the lad's mind (he was a quick-witted man and a clever one, too), for he tried to engage in conversation with Joe. But the boy preferred to nurse his loneliness, and would only talk when he was compelled to answer a question. Finally, the editor asked him if he would drive, and this Joe was glad enough to do, for there is some diversion in holding the reins over a spirited horse. The editor's horse was a large gray, named Ben Bolt, and he was finer than any of the horses that Joe had seen at the livery-stable. Feeling a new and an unaccustomed touch on the reins, Ben Bolt made an effort to give a new meaning to his name by bolting sure enough. The road was level and hard, and the horse ran rapidly for a little distance; but Joe Maxwell's arms were tough, and before the horse had gone a

l6

ON THE PLANTATION.

quarter of a mile the lad had him completely under control.
'* You did that very well," said the editor, who was familiar with Ben Bolt's tricks. " I didn't know that little boys in town could drive horses/'
"Oh, sometimes they can," replied Joe. "If he. had been scared, I think I should have been scared myself; but he was only playing. He has been tied at the rack all day, and he must be hungry."
"Yes," said the editor, " he is hungry, and he wants to see his mate, Rob Roy."
Then the editor, in a fanciful way, went on to talk.about Ben Bolt and Rob Roy, as if they were persons instead of horses; but it did not seem fanciful to Joe, who had a strange sympa thy with animals of all kinds, especially horses and dogs. It pleased him greatly to think that he had ideas in common with a grown man, who kiu-w how to write for the papers; and if the editor was talking to make Joe forget his loneliness he succeeded admirably, for the lad thought no more of the boys who had so quickly returned to their marbles, but only of his mother, whom he had last seen stand-

JOE MAXWELL MAKES A START.
ing at the little gate smiling at him through her tears.
As they drove along the editor pointed out a little log-cabin near the road.
He talks bigger than anybody.
"That," said he, "is where the high sheriff of the county lives. Do you know Colonel John B. Stith ? "

18

ON THE PLANTATION.



'

u Yes," Joe replied; "but I thought he lived

in a large, fine house. I don't see how he can

get in at that door yonder.''

" What makes you think he is too big for

the door ?"" asked the editor.

" Why, the way he goes on," said Joe, with

the bluntness of youth. " He is always in town

talking politics, and he talks bigger than any

body."

"'Well," said the editor, laughing, "that is

his house. When you get a little older you'll

find people who are more disappointing than

the high sheriff. Boys are sometimes too big

for their breeches, I've heard said, but this is

the first time I ever heard that a man could be

too big for his house. That is a good one on

the colonel."

Ben Bolt trotted along steadily and rapidly,

but after a while dusk fell, and then the stars

came out. Joe peered ahead, trying to make

out the road.

" Just let the horse have his way," said the

editor. " He knows the road better than I do ";

and it seemed to be so, for, when heavy clouds

from the west came up and hid the stars, and

only the darkness was visible, Ben Bolt trotted

JOE MAXWELL MAKES A START.
along as steadily as ever. He splashed through Crooked Creek, walked up the long hill, and then started forward more rapidly than ever.
" It is a level road, now," the editor re marked, "and Ben Bolt is on the home-Stretch."
In a little while he stopped before a large gate. It was opened in a jiffy by some one who seemed to be waiting.
" Is that you, Harbert? " asked the editor. " Yes, marster." " Well, I want you to take Mr. Maxwell here to Mr. Snelson's." " Yasser," responded the negro. " Snelson is the foreman of the printing-of fice," the editor explained to Joe, "and for the present you are to board with him. I hope he will make things pleasant for you. Good night." To the lonely lad it seemed a long journey to Mr. Snelson's--through wide plantation gates, down narrow lanes, along a bit of public road, and then a plunge into the depths of a.great wood, where presently a light gleamed through. " I'll hail 'em," said Harbert, and he sent be fore him into the darkness a musical halloo, whereupon, as promptly as its echo, came a
>

2O

ON THE PLANTATION.

hearty response from the house, with just the faintest touch of the Irish brogue in the voice.
"Ah, and-it's the young man! Jump right down and come in to the warmth of the fire. There's something hot on the hearth, where it's waiting you."
And so Joe Maxwell entered on a new life-- a life as different as possible from that which he had left behind in Hillsborough.

t.

CHAPTER II.
A PLANTATION NEWSPAPER.
THE printing-office was a greater revelation to Joe Maxwell than it would be to any of the youngsters who may happen to read this. It was a very small affair; the type was old and worn, and the hand-press--a Washington No. 2--had seen considerable service. But it was all new to Joe, and the fact that he was to be come a part of the machinery aroused in his mind the most delightful sensations. He quick ly mastered the boxes of the printer's case, and before many days was able to set type swiftly enough to be of considerable help to Mr. Snelson, who was foreman, compositor, and pressman.
The one queer feature about The Countryman
was the fact that it was the only plantation newspaper that has ever been published, the nearest post-office being nine miles away. It might be supposed that such a newspaper

,

ON THE PLANTATION.

would be a failure; but The Countryman was

a success from the start, and at one time it

reached a circulation of nearly two thousand

copies. The editor was a very original writer,

and his editorials in The Countryman were

^:

'-

-

.

quoted in all the papers in the Confederacy, but

he was happiest when engaged in a political

controversy. Another feature of T/te Country

man was the fact that there was never any lack

of dopy for the foreman and the apprentice to

set. Instead of clipping from his exchanges,

the leditor sent to the office three books, from

which extracts could be selected. These books

wereI Lacon...P-er cys Anecdotes, and RochefGU caulds Maxims. Then there were weekly letters

from the army in Virginia and voluntary con-

\



tribiitions from many ambitious writers. Some

of toe war correspondence was very gloomy,

for as the months wore on it told of the death

.of a great many young men whom Joe had

kno\tn, and the most of them had been very

kind to him.

The days in the printing-office would have

been very lonely for Joe, but the grove that

surrounded it was full of gray squirrels. These

had [been so long undisturbed that they were

A PLANTATION NEWSPAPER.
comparatively tame. They were in the habit of running about over the roof of the office and playing at hide-and-seek like little children. To the roof, too, the blue-jays would bring their acorns and hammer at the haVd shells in the noisiest way, and once a red fox made bold to venture near Joe's window, where he stood listening and sniffing the air until some noise caused him to vanish like a flash. Most inter esting of all, a partridge and her mate their nest within a few feet of the window^ it often happened that Joe neglected his in watching the birds. They bent the Icffig grass over from each side carefully until they had formed a little tunnel three or four feet long. When this was done, Mrs. Partridge made her way to the end of it and began to scratch and flutter just as a hen does when tak ing a dust-bath. She was hollowing out her nest. By the time the nest was completed the archway of grass that had hid it was consid erably disarranged. Then Mrs. Partridge sat quietly on the little hollow she had made, while Mr. Partridge rebuilt the archway over her un til she was completely concealed. He was very careful about this. Frequently he would walk

ON THE PLANTATION.

oil a little way and turn and look at the nest.

If his sharp eyes could see anything suspicious,

he would return and weave the grass more

closely together. Finally, he seemed to be sat

isfied with his work. He shook his wings and

began to preen himself, and then Mrs. Par

tridge came out and joined him. They con

sulted together with queer little duckings, and

finally ran off into the undergrowth as if bent

on a frolic.

I The work of Mr. and Mrs. Partridge was so

weul done that Joe found it very difficult to dis-

coVer the nest when he went out of the office.

He knew where it was from his window, but

i

-

'

when he came to look for it out of doors it

seemed to have disappeared, so deftly was it

concealed; and he would have been compelled

to nunt for it very carefully but for the fact that

when Mrs. Partridge found herself disturbed

she rushed from the little grass t ucl and

threw herself at Joe's feet, fluttering around as

if desperately wounded, and uttering strange lit

tle cries of distress. Once she actually touched

his feet with her wings, but when he stooped to

pick her up she managed to flutter off just out

of reach of his hand. Joe followed along after

A PLANTATION NEWSPAPER. .
Mrs. Partridge for some little distance, and he discovered that the farther she led him away from her nest the more her condition improved, until finally she ran off into the sedge and disap peared. Joe has never been able to find any one to tell him how Mrs. Partridge knew what kind of antics a badly wounded bird would cut up. He has been told that it is the result of in stinct. The scientists say, however, that instinct is the outgrowth of necessity ; but it seems hard to believe that necessity could have given Mrs. Partridge such accurate knowledge of the move ments of a wounded bird.
In carrying proofs from the printing-office to the editor, Joe Maxwell made two discoveries that he considered very important. One was that there was a big library of the best books at his command, and the other was that there was a pack of well-trained harriers on the plantation. He loved books and he loved dogs, and if he had been asked to choose between the library and the harriers he would have hesitated a long time. The books were more numerous--there were nearly two thousand of them, .while there were only five harriers--but in a good many re spects the dogs were the liveliest. Fortunately,

ON THE PLANTATION.
J6e was not called on to make any choice. He hid the dogs to himself in the late afternoon and the books at night, and he made the most of both. More than this, he had the benefit of the culture of the editor of The Countryman and of the worldly experience of Mr. Snelson, the printer.
To Joe Maxwell, sadly lacking in knowledge x>f mankind, Mr. Snelson seemed to be the most
Mr. Snelson as Richard III.
engaging of men. He was the echo and mouthpiecje of a world the youngster had heard of but never seen, and it pleased him to hear the genial printer rehearse his experiences, ranging all the
K

A PLANTATION NEWSPAPER.

way from Belfast, Ireland, where he was born,

to all the nooks and corners of the United

States, including the little settlement where the

plantation newspaper was published. Mr. Snel

son had been a tramp and almost a tragedian,

and he was pleased on many occasions to give

his little apprentice a taste of his dramatic art.

He would stuff a pillow under his coat and give

readings from Richard 7/7, or wrap his wife's

mantilla about him and play Hamlet. When

tired of the stage he would clear his throat and

render some of the old ballads, which he sang

very sweetly indeed.

One night, after the little domestic concert

was over and Joe was reading a book by the

light of the pine-knot fire, a great fuss was heard

in the hen-house, which was some distance from

the dwelling.

" Run, John," exclaimed Mrs. Snelson; " I

just know somebody is stealing my dominicker

hen and her chickens. Run!"

" Let the lad go," said Mr. Snelson, amiably.

" He's young and nimble, and whoever's there

he'll catch 'em.--Run, lad! and if ye need

help, lift your voice and I'll be wit* ye di- .

rectly."

.

28

ON THE PLANTATION.

"": ! '

'

'

-"

'

-

The dwelling occupied by Mr. Snelson was

in the middle of a thick wood, and at night,

w.hei n there' was no mo. on, it was. very dark out of <loors; but Joe Maxwell was not afraid of

the .dark. He leaped from the door and had

reached the hen-house before the chickens

ceased cackling and fluttering. It was too dark

to siee anything, but Joe, in groping his way

around, laid his hand on Somebody. i His sensations would be hard to describe.

His heart seemed to jump into his mouth, and

j

'

'

he feilt a thrill run over him fr. om head to foot.

It waI s not fe' ar, for he did not turn and flee.

He placed his hand again on the Somebody and

asked:

"^Vhoareyou?"

Whatever it was trembled most violently

and ^he reply came in a weak, shaking voice

and in the shape of another question:

" Isi - dis d.e little/ m' arster what come fum town ter wi>rk in de paper office ?"
" YLes; who are you, and what are you doing here? 1'

i

_

" I'm name Mink, suh, an* I b'longs to Marse

Tom Qaither. I bin run'd away an* I got dat

hongrjr dat it look like I bleedz ter ketch me a

A PLANTATION NEWSPAPER.

chicken. I bin mighty nigh famished, suh. I

wish you'd please, suh, excusen me dis time."

" Why didn't you break and run when you

heard me coming?" asked Joe, who was dis

posed to take a practical view of the matter.

"You wuz dat light-footed, suh, dat I ain't

hear you, an' sides dat, I got my han' kotch in

dish yer crack, an' you wuz right on top er me

'fo' I kin work it out."

" Why don't you stay at home ? " asked Joe.

" Dey don't treat me right, suh," said the

negro, simply. The very tone of his voice was

more convincing than any argument could have

been.

;

" Can you get your hand out of the crack ? "

asked Joe.

.

" Lord, yes, suh; I'd 'a done got it out fo'

now, but when you lipt on me so quick all my .

senses wuz skeered out'n me."

"Well," said Joe, "get your hand but and

stay here till I com e back, and I'll fetch you

something to eat."

" You ain't foolin' me, is you, little marster?" '

"Do I look like I'd fool you?" said Joe,

scornfully. ' .

"I can't see you plain, suh," said the negro,

ON THE PLANTATION.

drawing a long breath, " but you dont talk like

it> .

.

V-

I " Well, get your hand loose and wait."

| AsJoe turned to go to the house, he saw Mr.

Snelson standing in the door.

"Its, all right, sir," the .youngster said.

" None of the chickens are gone."

|" A great deal of fuss and no feathers," said

Mr. Snelson. " I doubt but it was a mink."

!* Yes," said Joe, laughing. " It must have

been a Mink, and Im going to set a bait for him."

" In all this dark ?" asked the printer.

"Why, I could stand in the door and crush it

witi m e. teeth."

.

|*Why, yes," replied Joe. "Ill take some

biscuit and a piece of corn bread, and scatter

them around the hen-house, and if the mink

conii es bac" k hell g.e.t. the b re_ ad and . leave the chickens alone."

*f Capital!" exclaimed Mr. Snelson, slapping

Joe on the back. " I says to mother here, says

I, i LS sure as youre born to die, old woman, that

by il-as got the stuff in im that they make men out of. I said them very words. Now didnt

I, mother?"

Joe got three biscuits and a pone of corn-

A PLANTATION NEWSPAPER.
bread and carried them to Mink. The negro had freed his hand, .and he loomed up in the darkness as tall as a giant.
"Why, you seem to be as big as a horse/* said Joe.
" Thanky, little marster, thanky. Yes, suh, I'm a mighty stout nigger, an* ef marster would
Mink.
des make dat overseer lemme 'lone I'd- dp some mighty good work, an* I'd a heap druther do it dan ter be hidin' out in de swamp dis away like some wil' varmint. Good-night, little marster."
" Good-night!" said Joe. " God bless you, little marster!". cried Mink, as he vanished in the darkness.

ON THE PLANTATION.

That night in Joe Maxwell's dreams the -
v- rice of the fugitive came back to him, crying,

Sod bless you, little marster 1"

But it was not in dreams alone that Mink

came baok to Joe. In more than one way the

played an important part in the lad's life

i th.' e *plantati on. One eveni. ng about dusk, as Joe was going home* taking a " near cut"

through the Bermuda pasture, a tall form loomed

lip before him, outlining itself against the sky.

I "Howdy, little marstef % 'Tain't nobody but

M i')n-.k. I des come ter te' ll you dat ef you want anything out'n de woods des sen* me word by

Hajrbert. I got some pa'tridge-eggs here now.

Dejper tied up in a rag,,but dat don't hurt um.

Ef you'U des spread out yb* hank'cher I'll put

um in it/'

*'Haven't you gone home yet?" asked Joe,

as h e held out his handkerchief.

* Lord, no, suh %" exclaimed the negro. " De^

boy$ sAy dat de overseer say he waitin* fer Mink

wid ;a club/'

.

r -.

T| here were four dozen of these eggs, and Joe and ^fr. Snelson enjoyed them hugely.

From that time forward, in one way and

another, Joe Maxwell kept in communica#pn

r-*'. -'

A PLANTATION NEWSPAPER.

33

with Mink. The lad was not too young to ob serve that the negroes on the plantation treated him with more consideration than they showed to other white people with the exception of their master. There was nothing they were not ready to do for him at any time of day or night. The secret of it was explained by Harbert, the man-of-all-work around the " big house.'*
" Marse Joe," said Hafbert one day, "I wuz gwine 'long de road de udder night an' I met a great big nigger man. Dish yer .trigger man took an' stop me, he did, an' he low, ' Dey's a little white boy on yo' place which I want you fer ter keep yo' two eyes on 'im, an' when he
say come, you come, an' when he say go, you go/ I 'low, ''hey, big nigger man! what de matter?' an' he 'spon' back, 'I done tole you, an' I ain't gwine tell you no mo'.' So dar you got it, Marse Joe, an' dat de way it stan's."
And so it happened that, humble as these negroes were, they had it in their power to smooth many a rough place in Joe Maxwell's life. The negro women looked after him with almost motherly care, and pursued him with kindness, while the men were always ready to contribute to his pleasure,

CHAPTER III.

TRACKING A RUNAWAY.

ONE Sunday morning, not long after Joes

. .*

adventure with Mink, Harbert came to him

with a serious face.

" Marse Joe," he said, " dey er gwine ter

ketch Mink dis time/

1 How do you know ?"

" Kaze, soon dis mornin whiles I wuz a-feed-

in* ie hogs, I seed one er dem Gaither boys

comin* down de road under whip an* spur, an*

I ax im wharbouts he gwine, an he say he

gwine atter Bill Locke an his nigger dogs. He

lnoiwghti ,daanthedekynogwwinwehatrerMpiunkt

bin las
de dogs

F, riday on his

traci an ketch im. Deyll be long back dis a

wayThtiee-rrleacdklhya."d . w..itnessed' many a fox-chase and

had hunted rabbits hundreds of times, not only

withthe plantation harriers but with hounds;

' ...

TRACKING A RUNAWAY.

35

but he had never seen a runaway negro hunted down, and he had a boy's curiosity in the matter, as well as a personal interest in the fate of Mink. So he mounted his horse and waited for Mr. Locke and young Gaither to return. He knew Bill Locke well, having seen him often in Hillsborough. Mr. Locke had been an overseer, but he saved money, bought two or ihree negroes, and had a little farm of his own. He had a great reputation as a negro-hunter, mainly be cause the hunting of runaways was a part of his business. His two dogs, Music and Sound, were known all over the country, and they were the terror of the negroes, not because they were fierce or dangerous, but because of their sagaci ty. Sound was a small brown hound, not larger than a beagle, but he had such powers of scent that the negroes regarded him with supersti tious awe. He had what is called a " cold nose," which is a short way of saying that he could follow a scent thirty-six hours old, and yet he was a very shabby-looking dog.
When Locke and young Gaither rode by they were joined by Joe Maxwell, and his com pany seemed to be very welcome, especially to the Gaither boy, who regarded the affair as a

-> -
K

ON THE PLANTATION.

frolic. Mr. Locke was a man of very few

words. His face was dark and sallow and his

eyes sunken. His neck was long and thin, and

Joe observed that his " Adam's apple " was un-

wsually large. As the negroes said, Mr. Locke

and his dogs " favored " each other. He was

small and puny, and his dogs were small and

scrawny*

-I "Do you think you'll catch Mink?" asked

J oe. Mr Locke looked at the lad almost pityijngiy, and smiled.

1 "Well git the nigger," he replied, "if he's

teen seed sence Friday noon. We'll git him

i he ain't took wings. All I ast of him is to

s ay somewheres on top of the ground, and he's

.j



-. .

.

nii ine."

"

(t Why did the negro run away ? " said Joe

to young Gaither.

"Oh, he can't get along with the overseer.

And I don't blame him much. I told pap this

morning that if I had to choose between Mink

and Bill Davidson I'd take Mink every time.

But the trouble with pap is he's getting old,

an 1 thinks he can't get along without an over

see r, and overseers are mighty hard to get now.

1 1 sll you right now that when I get grown I'm

TRACKING A RUNAWAY.

not going to let any overseer bang my niggers

around."

Mr. Locke said nothing, but Joe heartily in

dorsed young Gaither's sentiments. .

When they arrived at the Gaither place, Mr.

Locke asked to be shown the house that -Mink

had occupied. Then he asked for the blankets

on which the negro had slept. These could

not be found. Well, an old coat would do--

anything that the negro had worn or touched.

Finally, a dirty, greasy bag, in which Mink had

carried his dinned to the field, was found.

This would do, Mr. Locke said, and, taking it

in his hand, he called his dogs and held it to

ward them. Sound smelled it more carefully

than Music.

, .'

" Now, then," said Mr. Locke, " where'bouts

was he seed ? At the hog-pen last Friday

night? All right, we'll ride around there and

kinder send him a message."

.

Joe was very much interested in all this, and

he watched Mr. Locke and his dogs very close

ly. When they arrived at the hog-pen, the

negro hunter dismounted and examined the

ground. Then he spoke to his dogs.

"Sound ! " he exclaimed, sharply, w what are

I.

. ON THE PLANTATION.

you doing ? Look about.--Music! what are you Ipefor?"
The shabby little dog seemed to be sud denly transformed. He circled around the hogpien rapidly, getting farther and farther away eai ch time. Mr. Lock e never took his eyes from the dog.
j " It's cold--mighty cold," he said, presently. Then he spoke to the dog a^ain. "Sound! come here, sir! Now git down to your knit ting! Come, knuckle down! Try 'em, old fellow !try'era!"
; Thus encouraged, the dog, with h^ nose to the ground, went carefully around the hog-pen. At one spot he paused, went on, and then came back to it. This performance he repeated several times, and then began to work his way toward an old field, going very slowly and care fully.
"Well, sir," said Mr. Locke, heaving a sigh of relief, " I thought it was a gone case, but the nigger's been here, and we've got him."
|* May be the dog is trailing somebody else," Joe Maxwell suggested.
'!pfr. Locke laughed softly and pityingly. f Why, I tell you what, buddy," he exclaimed,

TRACKING A RUNAWAY.

39

" if all the niggers in the country had tramped around here that dog wouldn't track none of 'em
*
but the special nigger we're after. Look at that puppy, how he's working !"
And truly it was an interesting if not a beau tiful sight to see the dog untangling the tangle of scent. More than once he seemed to be dis satisfied with himself and made little excursions in search of a fresher clew, but he always re turned to the point where he had left off, taking up the faint thread of scent and carrying it far ther away from the hog-pen. The patience and industry of the dog were marvelous. Mr. Locke himself was patient. He encouraged the hound" with his voice, but made no effort to urge him on.
" It's colder than a gravestone," said Mr. Locke, finally. "It's been a long time sence that nigger stepped around here. And the ground's high and dry. If we can work the trail to the branch yonder, he's oiir meat.--Try for'im, Sound ! Try for 'im."
Gradually the dog worked out the problem of the trail. Across the hill he went, with many turnings and twistings, until finally he struck into the path that led from the negro

40

ON THE PLANTATION.

oarters to the spring where the washing was

one. Down this path the hound ran without

eigning to put his nose to the ground. At the

branch he lapped his nil of water, and then took

up his problem again. A half-dozen wash-pots

, were scattered around, and under the largest a

fire was smoldering. On a bench, side by side,

three tubs were sitting, and it was at this bench

that Sound picked up the trail again. Evident

ly Mink had paused to chat with the woman

who was washing. The ground was moist, and
i
the dog had little trouble. As he recovered

the trail he expressed his gratification by a

little whimper. The trail led down the spring

branch and into a plantation road, then over a

fence and across a " new ground " until it struck

a pypath that led to an arbor near a church,

where the negroes had been holding a revival

meeting. At this point there was another prob

lem for the dog. A hundred or two negroes

had been gathered here, and it was evident

that Mink had been one of the crowd, min-

!.

.''-.'-

. gling with the others and walking about with

them.

,

JYoung Gaifher called Mr. Locke's attention

r



to this. " You'll never get the trail away from

TRACKING A RUNAWAY.
here in the world," said he. " Why don't you take the dog and circle round with him ?"
"That dog," said Mr. Locke, watching the hound anxiously, " has got notions of his own, and he's bound to carry 'em out. He won't be fooled with. Don't say nothing. Just stand off and watch him. He's been in worse places than this here."
But it was a tedious task the dog had before him. Winding in and out in the mazes of an invisible labyrinth, turning and twisting, now slowly, now more rapidly, he pursued with un erring nose the footsteps of the runaway, and when he had followed the trail away from the church he was going at a brisk pace, and his whimper had changed to an occasional yelp. Mr. Locke, who up to this time had been lead ing his horse, now took off his coat, folded it carefully, and laid it on his saddle. Then he remounted his horse, and with Gaither and Joe Maxwell trotted along after his dog.
Mink must have lingered on the way, for a quarter of a mile farther on Music joined Sound in his work, and the two dogs footed it along right merrily, their mellow voices rous ing a Hundred echoes among the old red hills.

42

ON THE PLANTATION.

A mile farther the dogs paused at a tree where there were traces of fire. Scattered around were scraps of sweet-potato peelings and bread.
" Here is where the gentleman roosted last night/* said Mr. Locke; and it must have been trtie, for Sound, with his head in the air, made a half circle, picked up a warmer trail, and the two dogs were off like the wind. Joe Maxwell became very much interested. The horse he was riding was swift and game, and he drew away from the others easily. Neither ditches nof gullies were in his way, and in the excite ment a six-rail fence seemed to be no obstacle.
t
Mr! Locke shouted something at Joe, probably some word of warning, but the meaning failed to |each the lads ears. Butterfly fought for his nead and got it, and in the twinkling of an eye carried his rider out of hearing of his com panions.
e dogs had swerved a little to the left, and were making straight for the river the Oconee. Butterfly ran into a plantation road and would have crossed it, but Joe held him to it, and soon discovered that he was gaining on the dogs. From slightly different directions the bounds and the horse seemed to be making

TRACKING A RUNAWAY.

43

for the same point--and this point, as it turned out, was the plantation ferry, where a bateau was kept. Joe Maxwell reached the top of the hill overlooking the river just as the dogs reached the ferry. Here he drew rein and looked about him. The hounds ran about on the river-bank barking and howling. Sound went into the water, but, finding that he was drifting down instead of going across, he made his way out and shook himself, but still con tinued to bark. A quarter of a mile away there was a great bend in the river. Far down this bend Joe could see a bateau drifting. As he watched it the thought struck him that it did not sit as lightly in the water as an empty boat should. "Suppose," he asked himself, with a laugh--" suppose Mink is in the bottom of that bateau?"
He dismissed the thought as Mr. Locke and young Gaither came tip.
"That's a thundering slick hoss you're rid ing," said Mr. Locke. " He'd do fine work in a fox-hunt. Where's the nigger?"
" The dogs can tell you more about it than I can," said Joe.
" Well," remarked Mr. Locke, with a sigh,

ON THE PLANTATION.

"I know'd I'd miss him if he ever got to the ferry here and found the boat on this side. .Why, dang his black skin!" exclaimed the negro-hunter vehemently, as he glanced down the river and saw the bateau floating away in thie. distance, "he's gone and turned the boat loose! That shows we was a-pushin' 'im mighty close. I reckon you could a' seed 'im if you'd looked clos't when you first come up." ' !" No," replied Joe; "he was out of sight, and the boat was drifting around the elbow. You were not more than five minutes behind mel"

["Bless your soul, buddy," exclaimed Mr.

Locke, " five minutes is a mighty long time

when you are trying to ketch a runaway."

So ended the race after Mink. To Joe Max

well it was both interesting and instructive.

He was a great lover of .dogs, and the wonder-

fur performance of Sound had given him new

ideas of their sagacity.

A few mornings after the unsuccessful at-

temjpt to catch Mink, a very queer thing hap

pened. Harbert was sweeping out the print

ing-office, picking up the type that had been

k..

dropped on the floor, and joe was preparing

tt" *

TRACKING A RUNAWAY.

45

to begin the day's work. Suddenly Harbert spoke: ' " Marse Joe/' said he, " when you rid out ter de river Sunday, is you happen ter see er bateau floatin' 'roun'?"
Joe looked at Harbert for some explanation of the singular question, but the negro pre tended to be very busily engaged in picking up scraps of paper.
"Yes," said Joe, after a pause, "I saw a boat drifting down the river. What about it ? "
" Well, suh, I speck ef de trufe waz ter git out, dat dey wuz one er yo' ole 'quaintance in dat boat, an' I bet a thrip dat ef you'd a-hollered howdy, dey'd a-hollered howdy back."
Harbert was still too busy to look up.
" Hit de funniest boat what I yever come 'cross," he went on, " agwine floatin' long down by itse'f, an' den, on top er dat, come floatin' long back agin."
" How do you know about the bateau?" " Whiles you bin gwine 'long de road, Marse Joe," said Harbert, still making a great pre tense of gathering up the trash in the room, " ain't you never is see all dem little birds flyin* 'mongst de bushes an* 'long de fence? Well,

*

ON THE PLANTATION.

*



-

*

suh, dem little birds kin tell mo' tales ef you

1 sten at 'em right close dan all deze yer papers

-

"Hit

dribble t de ihouf."

whit you bio printin'. Dey er mighty cu'us)

TRACKING A RUNAWAY.

47

an' dey er mighty cunnin'. Dey tole me lots

mo' dan dat. Dey say dat de young Gaither

boy took an' sont word ter Marse Tom Clem-

mons dat somebody done gone an' stole de

bateau at de ferry, but yit when Marse Tom go

out fer ter look atter his boat dar she is right

spang whar he lef 'er. Now, how you 'count

fer dat?"

"Then, Mink--"

" Coon an' 'possum ! " interrupted Harbert,

as Mr. Snelson appeared in the doorway.

" 'Possum it is! " exclaimed that genial gen

tleman. " In season or out of season, I'll never

refuse it."

.;

" Well, suh," said Harbert, " ef de talk gwine

ter fall on 'possum, I'm bleeds ter go, kase when

I hear folks talkin' 'bout 'possum hit make me

dribble at de mouf." The negro went off laugh

ing loudly.

CHAPTER IV.
SHADOWS OF THE WAR.
.*
WHAT with the books in the library and the lie out of doors in the afternoons, Joe Maxwell g^ ;ew very fond of his new home. His work at $he printers' case was not a task, but a pleasure. He .grew to be an expert in type-setting and won unstinted praise from Mr. Snelson. Sometiibes he wrote little paragraphs of his own, crediting them to "The Countryman's Devil," and the editor was kind enough to make no objection, and this fact waA very encouraging to'the lad, who was naturally shy and sensitive.
Only the echoes of the war were heard a^ Turner place; but once the editor returned
Hillsborough with some very sad news fbi a lady who lived near 7%^ (]pa*/ry**<M; oAice
her father. Her husband had been killed one of the great battles, and her screams when the editor told her of It, and the cries of

SHADOWS OF THE WAR.

49

her little daughter, haunted Joe Maxwell for many a long day. Sometimes he lay awake at night thinking about it, and out of the darkness it seemed to him that he could build a grim mirage of war, vanishing and reappearing like an ominous shadow, and devouring the people.
The war was horrible enough, distant as it was, but the people who were left at home--the women and children, the boys, the men who were exempt, the aged and the infirm--had fears of a fate still more terrible. They were fears that grew out of the system of slavery, and they grew until they became a fixed habit of the mind. They were the fears of a negro in surrection. The whites who were left at home knew that it was in the power of the negroes to rise and in one night sweep the strength and substance of the Southern Confederacy from the face of the earth. Some of the more igno rant whites lived in constant terror.
Once it was whispered around that the blacks were preparing to rise, and the fears of the peo ple were so ready to confirm the rumor that the plantations were placed in a state of siege. The patrol--called by the negroes "patterrollers "--was doubled, and for a time the negro

ON THE PLANTATION.
ciuarters in all parts of the country were visited nightly by the guard. But Joe Maxwell noticed thI a.'t the patrol never visited. the . Turner. plantation, and he learned afterward that they had been warned off. The editor of The Countryman had the utmost confidence in his negroes, and he would not allow them to be disturbed at night by the "patter-rollers." He laughed at the talk of a negro uprising, and it was a favorite saying of his that the people who treated their negroes right had nothing to fear from them.
As for Joe Maxwell, he had no time to think about such things. He sometimes rode with thfe patrol on their fruitless and sometimes fool ish errands, but his curiosity with regard to them was soon satisfied, and he was better con tented when he was spending his evenings at hotne with his books, or in listening to the wdnderful tales that Mr. Snelson told for his benefit In spite of the fact that his work in the little printing-office was confining, the lad managed to live an outdoor life for a good part of jfche time. He had a task to do--so many thousand ems to set--and then he was through for the day. The thoughtful Mr. Snelson added

SHADOWS OF THE WAR.

51

to this task from time to time, but Joe always managed to complete it so as to have the greater part of the afternoon for his own.
There was a hat-shop on the plantation pre sided over by Mr. Wall, a queer old man from North Carolina. With the thrift of youth Joe gave the amusement of rabbit-hunting a busi ness turn. In the fall and winter, when the rabbits were in fur, their skins could be sold at the hat-shop at twenty-five cents a dozen, and the little harriers were so industrious and so well trained that he sometimes sold as many as three dozen skins a week. In addition to the pleasure and the money he got from the sport, he became very much interested in the hat-shop.
The hats were made as they had been during the Revolution, and as they were no doubt made in England before the Revolution. The hair on the pelts or skins was scraped off with a knife fashioned like a shoemaker's knife. The fur was then cut away with a steel blade that had no handle. When there was enough fur to make a hat it was placed on a bench or counter. Over the counter was suspended a long staff, to which was fastened a bowstring. If the staff

ON THE PLANTATION.
t
SL rabbit hunt.

SHADOWS OF THE WAR.

53

had been bent it would have had the appear

ance of a huge bow, but it was straight, and the

rawhide string was allowed a little play. With

an instrument not unlike a long spool the hatter

would catch the bowstring, pull it away from

the staff, and allow it to whip against the fur as

it sprang back into place. This whipping was

carried on very rapidly, and was kept up until

every tuft of fur was broken apart. Then the

fur was whipped gently into what was called a

bat, shaped somewhat like a section of orange

peel. The hatter then spread a cambric cloth

carefully over it, pressed it down a little, seized

the cloth in the middle between thumb and

forefinger, gave it a flirt in the air and lifted fur

and all. To Joe Maxwell it seemed like a trick

of magic.

The cloth, with the bat of fur lying smoothly

and neatly in its fold, was then placed on a

heating box, and kneaded rapidly but gently.

When it seemed to be getting too hot it was

sprinkled with water. This kneading was kept

up until the fur shrunk together. When taken

from the cloth it was in the shape of the hats

the clowns used to wear in the circus, and

it was called a bonnet. The bonnet was then

5

.'

:

ON THE PLANTATION.

in boiling water and pressed and knead*

with an instrument shaped like a rolling-pin,

smaller. The workers in this department compelled to protect their hands from the

ling water by means of leather fastened to

palms of their hands. The more the bonnets

rolled and kneaded, the more they shrunk,

i ntil Anally they were ready to be placed on

t ic blocks that gave them the hat shape. They

fitted to these blocks, which were of

various sizes, and thrown into a caldron of boil-

ing water, where they were allowed to stay

i L

'

J ' . . '.

until they would shrink no more.

When hats became scarce after the breaking

.

.

oat of the war, the editor bought Mr. Wall's in-

in the hat-shop, and made him foreman.

Several negroes were placed under him, and

they soon became experts in hat-making. There

was a great demand for the hats from all over

tlie South, and oh one occasion Joe Maxwell

a dozen wool hats for $$oo--in Confederate

But the most interesting .thing about the , as Joe thought* was the head hatter, Miles
^ 'all, who was the quaintest old man that Joe fo d ever seen. He was illiterate--he didn't

SHADOWS OF THE WAR.

55

know a letter in the book--and yet he was not ignorant. The Bible had been read to him until he was grounded in its texts and teachings, and he was always ready for an argument on
politics or religion.

He was always ready for an argument.

"Whenever you hear anybody a-axing any

thing," he used to say, " 'bout how I'm a-gettin'

on, an' how my family is, un' whether er no my

health is well, you thess up an* tell um that I'm

a nachul Baptis'. You thess up an* tell um that,

an* I'll be mighty much erbleege to you. Tell

um I'm a born'd Baptis'."

,':..'

ON THE PLANTATION.

,

.

s



Although Mr. Wall was unable to read or

write, joe Maxwell found him to be a very in

teresting talker. Perhaps it was his ignorance

>f books that made him interesting. He was

nore superstitious than any of the negroes--a

great believer in signs and omens. One night

hen Joe went to visit him, the old man told a

that made a very deep impression on the

There was nothing in the story, but Mr.

all identified himself with it, and told it in a *"
y that made it seem real, and it was a long

before Joe could divest himself of the idea

the story was not true. Wherever Mr.

all got it, whether he dreamed it or heard it,

ere is no doubt that he really believed it.

_ .-. J

CHAPTER V.

MR. WALL'S STORY.

*

j

THIS is the way he told it, by the light of a

pine-knot Are that threw a wavering and an un

certain light over the little room :.

"I'm monst'us sorry Daught ain't here/' he

began, " 'cause she know'd the folks thess ez

well ez I did; she's been thar at the house an*

seed um. It thess come inter my min' whilst

we been a-settin' here talkin' 'bout ghostses an*

the like er that. Daught's over yander settin'

up wi' Miss Clemmons, an' I wisht she wuz here.

She know'd 'em all.

"Well, sir, it wuz in North Ca'liny, right

nex' ter the Ferginny line, whar we all cum

frum. They wuz a fammerly thar by the name

er Chambliss--Tom Chambliss an* his wife--an*

they had a boy name John, in about ez peart a

chap ez you ever set your eyes on, Arter

awhile, Miss Chambliss, she took sick an* died,

S8

ON THE PLANTATION.

'"om, he moped aroun* right smartually, but '1 wan't long fo' he whirled in an' married agin,

lie went away off some'rs for to get his wife,

tne '

Lord

knows

whar,

an' she .

wuz

a

honev! ^

She fussed so much an' went on so that Tom,

hie .1

took

ter

drink,

an'

he

went

from

dram _

ter

dram tell he wern't no manner account. Then

she took arter John, the boy, an' she thess made that child's life miserbul a-doggin' arter him all

day long an' half the night.

chJ| u"rcOhn, eart'Seu.rntdelalyin'.sJhoehnfn-ixy.edf orupto

an' went ter stay at home

ani * She

keep th e ch. ickens. o utn' locked the door of the

the sa llid-patch. house before she

went off an* took the key wi' 'er. It wuz right

down coolish, but the sun wuz a-shinin' an'

Johnny didn't min' the cold. Ther' wuz a big

wnite oak-tree in the yard, an' he clum' up that

an1 * crppe out on a lim* an'got on top er the

house, an* sot up thar a-straddle er the comb.

He wuz a feeling mighty lonesome, an' he

diiin't know what ter do wi' hisse'f skacely.

" I dtmno how long he sot thar, but presently

a great big acorn dropped on the roof--ker-

! It wuz sech a big one an' it fell so hard

th;it it made Johnny jump. It fell on the roof

MR. WALL'S STORY.

59

'bout half-way betwixt the comb an* the eaves, an' when Johnny looked aroun' for to see what made the fuss he seed the acorn a-rollin' up to'rds whar he wuz a-settm*. Yes, sir! stedder rollin' down the roof an' fallin' off on the groun', the acorn come a-rollin' up the shingles thess like it wuz down grade. Johnny grabbed it ez it come. He picked it up an' looked at it good, an* then turned it roun' an* 'roun' for to see what kinder consarn it wuz that rolled up hill stedder rollin' down hill. While he wuz "a turnin'.the acorn aroun' he spied a worm hole in it, an' he was thess about ter break it open when he heard somebody callin*. It sounded like his stepmammy wuz a-callin' 'im from a way off yander, an' he answered back 'Ma'am!' thess ez loud as ever he could, an' then he sot still an* listened. Bimeby he heard the callin' again, an' he answered back: * Who is you, an* whar is you?' It seemed like then that he could hear somebody laughin' at 'im some'rs. These here sounds sorter put 'im out, an* he took an' shot the acorn down the roof like it wuz a marvel. Yit, before it could fall off, it seemed ter kinder ketch itself, an' then it come a-rollin' back to Johnny.

6o

ON THE PLANTATION.

This sorter made Johnny feel kinder creepy.

*i '



He know'd mighty well that he didn't have no

loadstone in his pocket, an* he couldn't make no

head ner tail to sedTgwine's on. He picked up

the acorn an* looked at it closeter than ever, an'

turned it *roun* an' 'roun' in his hand, an' helt it

rignt lip to his eye. Whilst lie was a-holdin' it

up that a-way he heard a little biter voice ez

find ez a cambric needle, an* it seem like it wuz

a-singin':

! ** Ningapie, Ningapie!

.

j

Why do you hoi* me at your eye ?

.j

Ningapie, Ningapee!

|

Don't you know that you can't see ?

I

. Ningapie, Ningapeer! ;

j - Why don't you hoi'me to your ear ?

johnny didn't know whether to laugh er cry, but he belt the acorn to his ear, an' he heard sumpin* er other on the inside holler out:!
",' Why dorft you hold my house so I can talk lout'n my window ?'
"/ I don't see no window/ says Johnny, sort er soakin* a little, bekase the Watchermacollum talked like it was mad. 'Is thish here wormhole vour window ?'
" Tooby shore it is/ say the Whatshisname,

MR. WALL'S STORY,

6l

'it's my window an' my front door, an' my peazzer.'
" ' Why, it ain't bigger than the pint of a pin/ says Johnny.

He belt the acorn to his ear."
" * Biit ef it wuzn't big enough/ say the--er --Watchermacollum, ' I'd make it bigger.'
" ' What is your name ?' says Johnny. " * Ningapie.'
" 4 It's a mighty funny name/ says Johnny. * Where did you come from ?'
"' Chuckalucker town.' " * That's in the song/ says johnny.

62

ON THE PLANTATION.

' Me, too,' says Ningapie. ' It's in the song. Ain't you never heard it ?'

"Ningapie! Ningapan!

He up an' killed the Boogef Man !

Ningapie, Ningapitch!

. .|

He's the one to kill a witch.'

i. ..



"

/ "Johnny wuz so took up wi' the talkin' an'

the singin' of the little feller in the acorn that

he didn't hear his stepmammy when she come,

an* when he did hear her he wuz that skeered

i



thai he shook like a poplar-leaf.

ri * Watch out!' says the little chap in the

acorn. * Watch out! Be right still. Don't mo'rv*' e. I* want t o show you sumpinV

1* 'She'll skin me alive,' says Johnny.

*j" Thess wait,'says the little chap. 'If she

calls you, keep right still/

" Mis. Chambliss onlocked the door an' went

in the house, an* slammed things down like she

wuz mad. She flung the tongs down on the

h'ath, slung the shovel in a corner, an' sot a

che- ei.r back like . she wuz' tryin' for to drive it thoo| the wall \ Then she began to jaw.

4*111 get 'im! Me a-tellin' 'im to stay an*

min the sallid-patch, an* he a-runnin% off! Won't

'im pay for it ?'

MR. WALL'S STORY.
It I That's me,' says Johnny, an' he talked like he wuz mighty nigh ready to cry.
"' Thess wait!' says the little chap in the acorn. * Keep right still!!
" Bimeby Mis. Chambliss come Out'n the house an' looked all arou'n'. Then she called Johnny. She had a voice like a dinner-horn, an' you moughter heard her a mile or more. Johnny he shook an' shivered, but he stayed still. His stepmammy called an* called, an' looked ever'whar for Johnny exceptin* in the right place. Then she went back in the house an' presently she come out. She had a lit tle spade in one hand an' a little box in 1tr other.
"' Watch her!' says the little chap in the t
acorn. ' Keep your eye on her!' " She went down in the gyarden an* walked
along tell she come to a Mogul plum-tree, an' then she knelt down an' begun to dig away at the roots of it. She dug an' dug, and then she put the box in the hole an' covered it up.
-."' Oho !' says the little chap in the acorn. 'Now you see whar she hides her money anV your daddy's money. Ever'body thinks your daddy has been a-throwin' his money away, an*

ON THE PLANTATION.

thars whar its gone. Ive been a-watchin her

a long time.

"I aint botherin -bout the money, says

Johnny. Im a-thinkin bout the frailin Im

gWine to git.

."f Well, says the little chap in the acorn,

whein she goes to the spring for to fetch a

bucket of water, put me in your pocket an

climb down from here. Then go up the road

a piece, an there youll see a red cow a-grazin.

Walk right up to her, slap her on the back, an

say, fNin^apie wants you." Fetch her home

an* tell \ ar stepmammy that a stranger told

you that you might have her ef youd go an

githeki " Shore

^. enough, twant

long

. before

Mis.

Chambliss come outn the house an started to

the spiring for to git a bucket of water. She

had d(i>ne took an pulled off her Sunday-go-to-

meetin* duds, an she looked mighty scrawny in

her calico frock. Time she got outn sight

Johnn^ put the acorn in his pocket an scram

bled down to the groun, an then he split off up

the roiid ez hard ez ever he could go. He

didnt go so mighty fur before he seed a red

cow feixKn* by the side of the road, an she wuz

MR. WALL'S STORY.

65

a fine cow, too, ez fat ez a butter-ball, an* lookin'

like she mought be able for to give four gallons

of milk a day an' leave some over for the calf

wharsoever the calf mought be. When she

seed Johnny walkin' right to'rds her, she raised

her head an* sorter bio wed like cow ereeturs

will do, but she stood stock still tell Johnny

come up an' patted her on the back an* says:

" ' Ningapie wants you.' ,

" Then she shook her head an' trotted along

at Johnny's heels, an' Johnny marched down

the road a-s wellin' up wi' pride tell he like to

bust the buttons off'n his coat. When he got

home his stepmammy wuz a^an'in' at the gate

a-waitin' for him wi' a hickffy, but when she

seed the cow a-folio win' long behine him, she

took an' forgot all about the whippin' she'd laid

up.

*

"'Why, Johnny!' say she, 'whar in the

wide world did you git sech a be-u-tiful cow?'"

In his effort to mimic a woman's voice, Mr.

Wall screwed up his mouth and twisted it

around to such an alarming extent that Joe

'.

j

*

Maxwell thought for an instant the old man was

going to have a spasm. The lad laughed so

'-'" I V / - ON ,THE ' , PLANTATION. . . "
heartily when be found out bis mistake that Mr.

Wall repeated his effort at mimicking.

*|' Why, Johnny/ say she, 'whar in the wide

worm did you git sech a be-u-tiful cow ?'

H Johnny, he up an' tol' his stepmammy

what Ningapie tol' 'im to say, an' the ole 'oman,

she !wuz e'en about ez proud ez Johnny wuz.

She patted the cow on the back, an' muched

her up might'ly, an' then she took her in the

lot an' got ready fer to milk her. Johnny felt

the icorn a-jumpin' about in his pocket, an' he

took it out an' belt it up* to his ear.

"'Watch her when she goes to milk/ says

i --

u

.

Ningapie.

"johnny dumb the fence an* waited. Thess

*bout the time his stepmammy begun fer to

milk the cow good, a little black dog come

Zkru snI in* 'roun' the yard a-barkin' At to kill. Time she heard 'im, the cow give a jump an'

pome mighty nigh knockin' ole Mis. Chambliss

over. Time everything got quiet, here come a

big p$ck of dogs a-chargin' 'roun' the lot-palin's

in full cry; an* it look like to Johnny that the

cow would shorely have a At.

"w When night come/' Mr. Wall' Continued,

another pint-knot into the Are,

--

MR. WALL'S STORY.

;

"Johnny got some milk for his supper, an* then he went to bed. He belt the acorn to his ear for to tell the little chap good-night.
" ' Don!t put me on the shelf/ says Ningapie, ' an' don't put me on the floor/
"' Why ?' says Johnny, in a whisper. ." ' Bekaze the rats might git me/ says Nin gapie. " ' Well/ says Johnny, f I'll let you sleep on my piller.' " Some time in the night Johnny felt sump'n run across the foot of his bed. He wuz wide awake in a minit, but he kept mighty still, bekaze he wuz skeer'd. Presently he felt sump'n jump up on his bed an' run across it. Then it popped in his head about Ningapie, an' he felt for the acorn tell he found it. "'Now's your time/ says Ningapie. "Git up an' put on your clozes quick an' foller the little black dog.' "Johnny jumped up, an' was ready in three shakes of a sheep's tail, an' he could hear the little black dog a-caperin' aroun' on the floor. When he started, he took the acorn in his han'. The door opened to let him out, an* shot itse'f When he got out, an' then the littlQ black dog

ON THE PLANTATION.

vent trottin* down the big road. It wuz dark,

but the stars Wuz a-shinin', an* Johnny could tell

h|y the ell-anLyard " (the constellation of Orion)

"that it wild nigh midnight.

" They hadn't gone fur before they come to

big white boss a-stahdin' in the road, chompin'

his bit an' pawin' the groun'.

" * Mount the boss,' says Ningapie.

"Johnny jumped on his back, an' the boss

wontcanterin' down $be road. 'Twan't long

fore Johnny seed a light shinin* in the road, an'

wken he got a little nigher he seed it was right

in the middle of the cross roads. A Are was

azin' up thar, an' who should be a-feedin' of

< ~

t his stepmainmy ? Her hair wuz a-hangin' dotrn, ah' she looked like ole Nick hisse'f. She

wt& a^walkin' 'roun' the blaze, a-mumblin' some

kinjier talk, an' a-makin' motions wi' her ban's,

i

&

an'.| thar w. uz. a *g^rea' t bi*g^ bla ck ca. t a-walkin*

*roun* wi' her, an* a-rubbin' up agin her, and

the creetur's tail wuz swelled up out'n all

reason.

'Watch out, now/ says Ningapie, 'an* hold

on tp your boss/

He hadn't more'n spoke the words before a

pack of dogs broke but of the woods an' made

MR. WALL'S STORY.
right for the ole 'oman, an' Johnny's hoss a-follerin' 'em. Thar wuz a monst'us scatteration of chunks an' fire-coals, an' then it looked like 'oman, dogs, an' all riz up in the elements, an* thar wuz sech another yowlin' an' howlin' an' growlin' ez ain't never been heard in them parts before nor sence.
" When Johnny got back home he found his pappy a-waitin' for him, an' he looked like a new mail. Then they went down into the gyarden, an' thar they foun' a pile of gold packed up in little boxes. Ez for the ole 'oman, she never did come back. She wuz a witch, an' Ningapie unwitched her."
"And what become of the acorn?" asked Joe Maxwell.
" Ah, Lord !" said Mr. Wall, with a sigh, "you know how boys is. Like ez not, Johnny took an' cracked it open wi' a hammer for to see what kind of a creetur Ningapie wuz."
6

CHAPTER VI.

THE OWL AND THE BIRDS.





i THE Gaither boy grew to be very friendly

With Joe Maxwell, and he turned out to be a

Very pleasant companion. He was fifteen years

"old, but looked younger, and although he had

nb book-learning, he was very intelligent, hav

ing picked up a great deal of the wholesome

knowledge that Nature keeps in store for those

wlio make her acquaintance. He could read a

mtle, and he could write his name, which he

tojok great pride in doing, using a stick for a

pen and a bed of sand for a copy-book. Walk-

ink along through the fields or woods, he would

pause wherever the rains had washed the sand

together, and write his name in full in letters

tb it seemed to be wrestling with each other--

" j ames K. Polk Gaither." As there was an

other James in his family, he was called Jim-

Pcllk Gaither.

THE OWL AND THE BIRDS.
His friendship was worth a great deal to Joe Maxwell, for there was not a bird in the woods nor a tree that he did not know the name of and something of its peculiarities, and he was familiar with every road and bypath in all the country around. He knew where the wild strawberries grew, and the chincapins and chestnuts, and where the muscadines, or, as he called them, the " bullaces," were ripest. The birds could not hide their nests from him, nor the wild creatures escape him. He had a tame buzzard that sometime followed him about in his rambles. He set traps for flying squirrels, and tamed them as soon as his hands touched them. He handled snakes fearlessly, and his feats with them were astounding to the town lad until Joe discovered that the serpents were not of the poisonous species. In handling high land moccasins and spreading adders, Jim-Polk confined his feats to seizing them by their tails as they ran and snapping their heads off. Whenever he killed one in this way he always hung it on a bush or tree in order, as he said, to bring rain. When it failed to rain, his ex planation was that as a snake never dies until sundown, no matter how early in the morning

ON THE PLANTATION.

iti m' a y be kill.e. d., i. t had twisted and writhed until it fell from the limb or bush on which it

was hung.

! Jim-Polk had many gifts and acquirements

tliat interested Joe Maxwell. Once when the

two lads were walking through the woods they

saiw a pair of hawks some distance away. Jim-

Polk motioned to Joe to hide under a hawthorn

bush. Then, doubling his handkerchief before

his mouth, he began to make a curious noise--a

series of smothered exclamations that sounded

Kke hoo !--hoo !--hoo-hoo! He was imitating

the ci'y of the swamp owl, which Joe Maxwell

j

"



-



had never heard. The -imitation must have

been perfect, for immediately there was a great
!
commotion in the woods. The smaller birds

fluttered away and disappeared; but the two

hawks, re-enforced by a third, came flying to

ward the noise with their feathers ruffled and

screaming with indignation. They meant war.

Jim-Polk continued his muffled cries, until

presently the boys heard a crow cawing in the

dis. t-1 ance. l"Now you'll see fun," said young Gaither.

" Just keep right still."

iThe crow was flying high in the 'air, and

THE OWL AND THE BIRDS.

73

would have gone over but the muffled cry of the owl--hoo! hoo ! hoo! hoo !--caught its ear and it paused in its flight, alighting in the top of a tall pine. Swinging in this airy outlook, it sent forth its hoarse signals, and in a few min utes the pine was black with its companions, all making a tremendous outcry. Some of them dropped down into the tops of the scrub-oaks. They could not find the owl, but they caught sight of the hawks, and sounded their war-cry.
Such cawing, screaming, fluttering, and fight- mg" Joe Maxwell had never seen before. The hawks escaped from the crows, but they left many of their feathers on the battle-field. One of the hawks did not wholly escape, for in his fright he flew out of the woods into the open, and there he was pounced on by a kingbird, which Jim-Polk called a bee martin. This little bird, not larger than his cousin, the catbird, lit on the hawk's back and stayed there as long as they remained in sight. The commotion set up
D
by the crows had attracted the attention of all the birds, except the smallest, and they flew about in the trees, uttering notes of anger or alarm, all trying to find the owl.
The incident was very interesting to Joe

r

ON THE PLANTATION.
Maxwell. He discovered that the owl is the winged Ishmael of the woods, the most hated and most feared of all the birds. A few days afterward he went with Harbert to see the hogs fed, and he told the negro how all the birds seemed to hate the owl.
i
" Lord! yes, sah!" said Harbert, who seemed - toi k now all ab.out the matter. " Ain't you never is hear tell er de tale 'bout de owl an' de.yuther birds? Ole man Remus tole it ter me dis
; 'J
many a year ago, an* sence den I bin hear talk about it mo' times dan what I got fingers an' toes."
I Of course, Joe wanted to hear--

i ..

THE STORY OF THE OWL.

, "Well, suh," said Harbert, "hit run sorter like dis : One time way back yander, fo' ole man Remus wuz born'd, I speck, all de birds wuz in cahoots; dem what fly in de air, an' dem what
i
walk on de groun*, an* dem what swim on de w^ter--all un um. Dey all live in one settle ment, an' whatsomever dey mought pick up endurin* er de day, dey'd fetch it ter der place wharbouts dey live at, an* put it wid de rest what de yuther ones bin a-ketchin' anr a-fetchinV

THE OWL AND THE BIRDS.
Dey kep* on dis away, twel, twant long fo' dey done save up a right smart pile er fust one thing an' den anudder. De pile got so big dat dey 'gun ter git skeered dat some un 'ud come 'long whilst dey wus away an' he'p derse'f.. Bimeby some er de mo' 'spicious 'mong um up an* say dat somebody bin stealin' fum de pro vision what dey savin' up ginst hard times. Mr. Jaybird, he coyspon' wid Mr. Crow, an' Mr. Crow he coyspon' wid Miss Chicken Hawk, and Miss Chicken Hawk she coyspon' wid Mr. Eagle, which he was de big buckra er all de birds. An' den dey all eoyspoh' wid one anudder, an* dey 'low dat dey bleeze ter leF somebody dar fer ter watch der winter wittles whiles dey er off a-huntin' up mo'. Dey jowered an' jowered a long time, twel, bimeby, Mr. Eagle, he up an' say dat de bes' dey kin do is to 'pint Mr. Owl fer ter keep watch. .Mr. Owl he sorter hoot at dis, but 'tairi't do no good, kaze de yuthers, dey say dat all Mr. Owl got ter do is ter sleep mo' endurin' er de night an* stay 'wake endurin'er de day.
" So, den," Harbert went on, pausing as if trying to remember the thread of the story, "dey 'pinted Mr. Owl fer ter keep watch, an*

ON THE PLANTATION.
dey all flewd off, some one way an' some anudder. Mr. Owl, he tuck his seat, he did, whar he kin take in a right smart stretch er country wid his big eyeball, an* he sot dar right peart. But bimeby he 'gun ter git lonesome. Dey want nobody ter talk ter, an' de sun shine so bright dat he bleeze ter shet his eye, an* 'fo' he know what he doin' he wuz a settin' dar noddin' same ez a nigger by a hick'ry fire. Every once in a while he'd ketch hissef an' try ter keep /Wake, but, do what he would, he can't keep his eye open, an* bimeby he snap his mouf like he! mad an' den he slapped his head under his wibg an' dropped off ter sleep good fashion. Kaze when a bird git his head under his wing hit's des de same ez gwine ter bed an' pullin' de kiver 'roun* yo' years.
" Well, suh, dar he wuz, settin' up fast asleep. 'Long in de .co'se er de day, Mr. Crow an* Mr. Jaybird, dey struck up wid one annuder out in de woods, an* dey sot down in a popular-tree fer to carry on a confab. Dey done bin coySpon* wid one anudder an* dey bofe bin pullin' 'tip corn. Mr. Crow 'low ter Mr. Jaybird dat he ain^t so mighty certain an' shore 'bout Mr. Owl, kaze he mighty sleepy-headed. Wid dat, Mr.

THE OWL AND THE BIRDS.

77

Jaybird, he up an* say dat he got dat ve'y idee in his miri'. Dey sot dar an' swop talk 'bout Mr. Owl, twel, atter while, dey 'gree ter go back fer de settlement an* see what Mr. Owl doin'. .
"Well, suh, dey went dar, an* dar dey foun' 'im. Yasser! Mr. Owl sholy wuz dar. He wuz settin' up on a lira' wid his head flung under his wing, an' 'twuz all dey kin do fer ter wake 'im up. Dey hollered at 'im des loud ez dey kin, an' bimeby he woke up an* tuck his head out from under his wing an' look at um des ez sollum ez a camp-meetin' preacher. Dey 'buze 'im--dey quoiled--dey call 'im out'n his name--dey jowered at 'im--but tain't do ho good. He des sot dar, he did, art' look at um, an* he ain't say nuthin' 'tall. Dis make Mr. Crow an' Mr. Jaybird mighty mad, kaze when folks quoil an' can't git nobody for ter quoil back at um, it make um wusser mad dan what dey wuz at fust. Dat night when de yuther birds come home, Mr. Crow an' Mr. Jaybird, dey had a mighty tale ter tell. Some b'lieved um an* some didn't .b'iieve um. Miss Jenny Wren, an' Mr. Jack Sparrow, an' Miss Cat Bird, dey b'lieved um, an' dey went on so twel de yuther birds can't hear der own years, skacely. But de big

ON THE PLANTATION.
birds, dey sorter helt off, an say dey gwine ter give Mr. Owl anudder chance.
j" Well, suh,dey give Mr. Owl two mo trials, let alone one, an evey time dey lef im dar fer ter watch an* gyard, deyd fin im fast asleep.
* He des sot dar, he did, an look at urn.
.
An*- \: dat aint all ^ dey skivered dat somebody done bin slippiri in an* totin off der provisions. Dat settle de hash fer Mr. Owl. De birds sot a day a[ n fotc. h Mr. Owl u*p fer ter stan trial, an dey laid down de law dat fum dat time forrud dat ]Mr. Owl shant go wid de yuther birds, an

THE OWL AND THE BIRDS.

79

datde nex' time dey kotch 'im out de word wuz ter be give, an* dey wuz all ter fall foul un 'im an' frail 'm out. Den dey say dat when he sleep he got ter sleep wid bofe eyes wide open, a'n dey lay it down dat he got ter keep watch all night long, an' dat whensomever he hear any fuss he got ter holler out:
" ' Who--who--who pesterin' we all ? * "Dat de way de law stan's," continued Harbert, placing his basket of corn on the top railof the fence, " an dat de way it gwine ter stan*. Down ter dis day, when Mr. Owl asleep, he sleep wid his eye wide open, an' when de yuther birds ketch him out, dey light on to 'im like folks puttin' out fire, an* when he ups an* hollers in de night-time, you kin hear 'im say: "' Who--who--who pesterin' we all?'" With a laugh, in which Joe Maxwell heartily joined, Harbert turned his attention to calling his hogs, and the way he did this was as inter esting to Joe as the story had been. He had a voice of wonderful strength and power, as pene trating and as melodious as the notes of a cornet. On a still day^ when there was a little moisture in the air, Harbert could make him self heard two miles. The range over which

8o

ON THE PLANTATION.

the hogs roamed was at least a mile and a half from the pen. In calling them the negro broke into a song. It was only the refrain that the ^distiint hogs could hear, but as it went echoing over the hills and valleys it seemed to Joe to be the Ivery essence of melody. The song was

something like this :

"

|

I

HOG-FEEDER'S SONG.

Oh, rise up, my ladies, lissen unter me,

.

Gwioop ! Gwoop ! Gee-woop ! Goowhee !

I'm1 a-gwine dis night fer ter knock along er you.

. Gwpop ! Gwoop ! Gee-woop ! Goo-whoo !

Pig^goo ! Pig-gee ! Gee-o-whee !

Oh, de stars look bright des like dey gwineter fall, En. Nyay todes sundown you hear de killdee call : Ste^-wee \ Killdee ! Pig-goo ! Pig-gee ! Pigi Pig I Pig-goo! Pig! Pig! Pig-gee!

De blue barrer squeal kaze he can't squeeze froo, En he hump up he back, des like niggers do-- Oh, ihumpty-umpty blue ! Pijr-gee ! Pig-goo ? Pig! Pig! Pig-gee! Pig! Pig! Pig-goo!

Oh, rise up, my ladies ! Lissen unter me ! Gwdop ! Gwoopee ! Gee-woop ! Goo-whee ! I'm a-gwine dis night a gallantin' out wid you ! Gwoop! Gwoopee! Gee-woop! Goo-hoo !
Pig-gee ! Gee-o-whee !

Ole sow got sense des ez she's youer bo'n she tak'n hunch de baskit fer ter shatter out co'n
Ma'am, you makes too free ! Pig-goo ! Pig-gee ! Pig!; Pig! Pig-goo! Pig! Pig! Pig-gee!

THE OWL AND THE BIRDS..

8l

Wen de pig git fat he better stay close, 'Kaze fat pig nice fer ter hide out en' roas'-- En he taste mighty good in de barbecue ! '. Oh, roas' pig, shoo ! 'N-yum ! dat barbecue! Pig! Pig! Pig-gee! Pig! Pig! Pig-goo!
Oh, rise up, my ladies ! Lissen unter me: Gwoop ! Gwoopee! Gee-woop ! Goo-whee! . I'm a-gwine dis night fer ter knock aroun' wid you ! Gwoop! Gwoopee ! Gee-woop ! Goo-whoo! Pig-goo! Pig-gee ! Gee-o-whee!

" Marse Joe/' said Harbert, after he 'had counted the hogs to see that none were missing, " I got sumpin' at my house fer you. I'm layin' off fer ter fetch it dis ve'y night."
"What is it?" asked Joe. " Tain't much," said Harbert. " Des some 'simmon beer an*, some ginger-cake." " I'm very much obliged to you," said Joe. "Oh, 'tain't me," said Harbert, quickly. " I was puttin' up de carriage-horses las' night when I hear somebody eallin' me, an* I went ter de fence, an* dar wuz a nigger *oman wid a jug in one han' an* a bundle in de udder, an' she say dar wuz some 'simmon beer an' some gingercakes, an* she up an' ax me would I be so cornpleasant fer to give um ter Marse Joe Maxwell, an* I lowed dat I'd be so compleasaiit."

82

ON THE PLANTATION,

" Who was the woman ? " Joe asked. "She some kin ter Mink," answered Har bert, levasively.
" Well, what kin ? " asked Joe. ^ \ She ain't so mighty much kin, needer," said Harbert. "She des his wife. She 'low dat ef you :jot any washin' er darnin' dat you want done she be .glad ter do it, an' den I say, 'Shoo nigger 'oman! G'way fum here! What you s] >eck my wife here fer ?'" Here Harbert tried to look indignant, but failed. Presently he continued: ** Dat are 'simmon beer got sign in it." "liThat sign is that?" asked Joe. "Well, suh, when 'immonses is ripe hit's a 'shore sign dat'possum ready ter eat, an' tain't gwine ter be long yfo' you hear me a-hollerin' 'routt'lthoo de woods, mo' speshually if I kin git holt er dem dogs what dat Gaither boy got.
When it fcome fer 'possum an' coon dey er de
Wtdoia'est dogs you ever is lay yo' eyes on." " ." I can get the dogs any time," said Joe. "Well, suh," said Harbert with enthusiasm,
"atter to-night you can't git- um too soon."

,.

CHAPTER VII.
.
OLD ZIP COON.

JIM-POLK ' >AITHER was very glad to go

hunting with joe Maxwell, having taken a

strong boyish liking to the lad, and so one Sat

urday evening he came over to the Turner

place with his dogs, Jolly and Loud. They

were large, fine-looking hounds, and! Joe exam*

ined them with interest. Their colof was black

and tan, and each**had two littlg yellow spots

over his eyes. Loud was the heavier of the *
two, and Jim-Polk explained that he had " the !

best hose" and the best voice, and *y* et he declared that in some respects Jolly was the best

,^ .

,

Harbert had already prepared for the hunt,

and he soon made his appearance with an

axe and a bundle of fat^,twine to be used for

torches. -. . .' '-.' ' / . '-. ^ ^ < . /'

"Now, then/' safd Jim-Pplk/"what )ijnd

. ? =

. -:' . " .

ON THE PLANTATION.

--

.'

. .

.

gaioe do you want? Shall it be "possum or

cocn?" .

Dat's for Marse^oe to say," said Harbert

These are mighty funny dogs," explained

Jim-Polk. " If you start out 'wif a light, they'll

hunt 'possums all night long. If you go into

the woods an* fe.tch a whoop or two before you

strice a light, they won't notice no 'possum ; but

OW Zip Coon.
you better believe they'll make old Zip Coon lift tisself ofFn the ground. So whichever you
want you'll have to start out right." " Possum mighty good," said Harbert, see
ing Joe hesitate.
A . - , " ' "

OLD ZIP COON. .' *

85

" Lots of fun in runnin* a coon," said Jim-

Polk.

"Well," said Joe, "let's start without a

light"

"Dat settles it," exclaimed Harbert, with a

good-humored grimace. "I done bin hunt wid

deze dogs befo'."

'

.

"You must have stole 'em out," said Jim-

Polk.

"No, suh," replied Harbert, "I went wid

Mink."

"I wish to goodness," exclaimed Jim-Polk,

"that Mink was at home. Pap, he sides with

the overseer, but when I get a little bigger I'm

'



.

.

a-goin* to whirl in and give that overseer a frail-

. rjs, if it's the last act."

. ',

" Now you talkin'!" said Harbert, with em-

phasis.

,'..' t '.'

It was some time before they got free of the

pasture-land, and then they went by Mr. Snel-

son's, so that Joe might change his clothes for a

rougher suit. That genial gentleman was very

much interested in the hunt, and he finally per

suaded himself to go.

" I'll go," said he, " joost to pertect the lads.

- It's a fine mess I'm after gettin' into, and it's all

'ON THE PLANTATION.
oil account of me good feelin's. They'll be the death of me some day, and thin a fine man '11 be gone wit* nobuddy to take his place."
Mr. Snelson was so enthusiastic that he w<mted to lead the way, but after he had fallen over a stump and rushed headlong int a brushheap, he was content to give the lead to Har-
Im-Polk, who was bringing up the rear with Joe Maxwell, gave the latter to understand that even if they didn't catch a coon, they'd have a good deal of fun with the genial printer.
We'll have fun with him," said Jim-Polk, if we don't have to tote him home."
Mr. Snelson kept up a running fire of convenation, which was only interrupted when he stepped into a hole or a ditch. _ T I've often read of chasing the raccoon," he saidi, " but it never occurred to me mind it was anything approachin' this. You're right sure it's the regular thing ?'*
" You'll think so frefore you get back home,'* remarked Jim-Polk. Harbert, know ing what these words really meant, laughed loudly.
"Well, well," said the genial printer, "if it's

OLD ZIP COON.

.

.

all a joke, I'd as well turn in me tracks and go

home."

"Oh, no %" exclaimed Jim^Polk. " Don't go

home. If you think it's a joke when we get

through with it, you may have my hat."

" Dat's so," cried Harbert. " Dat's ^o, sho I

An' ef he wud ter git de hat, I spepk I'd ha' ter

he'p 'm tote it. Yasser! Dat what I speck."

The enthusiastic Mr. Snelson $md Harbert

were ahead, and Joe Maxwell and Jim-Polk

brought up the rear.

"I hope my dogs'll behave their selves to*

night," said young Gaither. "You went on so

about Bill Locke's nigger dogs that I want you

to hear Jolly and Loud when they get their .: r
bristles up. But they're mighty quare. If *
Loud strikes a trail first, Jolly will begin to

pout. I call it poutin'. He'll run along with

Loud, but he won't open his mouth until the

scent gets hot enough to make him forget him

self. If it's a 'possum, he'll let old Loud do all

the trailin' and the treein'. You'd think the:*

was only one dog, but when you get to the tree

you'll And Jolly settin' there just as natchulas
life." \-' ' ; ' '.' ..: : .'%/',\^ ;'. ;

The hunters had now come to the landa bor-

ON THE PLANTATION.

:

'

."

demg on Rocky Creek, and, even while Jim-

Pol t was speaking, the voice of a dog was

bea-d. Then it was twice repeated--a mellow,

farj caching, inspiring sound, that caused every

nen e in Joe Maxwell's body to tingle. *

' Shucks!" exclaimed Jim-Polk, in a dis

gusted tone. "It's old Loud, and we won't

from Jolly till the coon's track is hot

ii gh to raise a blist-e r." gain Loud opened, and again, and always

.

with increasing spirit, and his voice, borne over

the woods and fields on the night winds, was

musical.

"Oh, my goodness!V cried Jim-Polk; "if I

bad Jolly here, I'd kill him. No, I wouldn't,

neith er ?" he exclaimed, excitedly. " Just lis

ten! le's a-puttin'in now!" With that he gave

a yell that fairly woke the echoes and caused

Mr. S nelson to jump.

.".'Upon me soul!" said that worthy gentle

man, ' ye'll never die wit* consumption. In me

books I've read of them that made the welkin

ring, but I've never heard it rung before."

"Shucks! "said Jim-Polk; "wait till Har-

bert there gets stirred up."

It was true that Jolly, as Jim-Polk expressed

OLD ZIP COON.

it, had "put in." The scent was warn* enough

to cure his sulkiness. Running in harmony and

j



giving mouth alternately, and sometimes to

gether, the music the two dogs made was irre sistibly inspiring-, and when Harbert at intervals lifted up his voice to cheer them on even Mr.

Snelson glowed with excitement and enthu

siasm. "Now, then, Harbert," said Jim-Polk, "you
can light your carriage-lamps, and by that time

we'll know which way we've got to trot."

The torches were soon lit* one for Jim-Polk

and one for Harbert, and then they paused to

listen to the dogs.

" That coon has been caught out from home," said Jim-Polk, after a pause/ "The dogs are

between him and his hollow tree. He's makin'

for that dreen in pap's ten-acre geld; There's a pond there, and old Zip has gone there after a

bait of frogs. Just wait till they turn his head

this way."

\

V Tut, tut, young man f" exclaimed Mr. Snel son, with s*ometh'ing like a .-frown' .. . "Y' e talk like somebody readin* from a book--upon me

word ye do--and if that was all I'd hot disagree

wit' ye; but ye go on and talk ior all the world

ON THE PLANTATION.
like ye had yure two blessed eyes on the coon all the time. Come! if ye know all that, how
know it?" Well, sir," said Jim-Polk, "the coon is three quarters of an hour ahead of the dogs-- maybe a little more, maybe a little less. How do i know it ? Why, because I know my dogs. They ain't on their mettle. They ain't runnin' at more than half speed, if that. I can tell by the way they open on the trail. Old Loud is takin' his time. When he gets the coon started home you'll hear him fairly lumber. How do I kriow the coon is goin' away from home? Shucks! My sev'n senses tell me that. We started out early. So did old Zip. He was at the pond huntin' for frogs when he heard old Louder open. If he's struck out on t'other side of the dreen we'll have to wait tell the dogs fetch him back to the creek. If he struck out o- -n - thI is . si de, he. 'll com e right down the hollow below here. Let's see what the dogs say." " ] )eyer 'livenin' up," said Harbert. The hunters walked a few hundred yards to the verge of the slope that led to the bed of the creek* Suddenly the dogs were silent. Ten

OLD ZIP COON.

91

. ' .

- '

seconds--twenty; a half-minute passed, and

nothing could be heard of the dogs.

"We may as well return home," said Mr,

Snelson. " The ravenous beasts have overtaken

him, and they'll lay by till they've devoured

him. Upon me soul, it's queer tastes they

have!"

" Oh, no," replied Jim-Polk. " Dogs'11 eat

rabbits and squirrels, but they never eat coons

nor 'possums. You'll hear from Jolly and Loud

terreckly, and then they'll be a-gallantin' old

Zip home. Just listen !"

As he spoke Loud gave mouth with a roar

that filled the woods, and he was immediately

joined by Jolly, whose quicker and more de

cisive voice chimed in as a pleasant accompani

ment. * " They are comin' right this way!" exclaimed

Jim-Polk, breathlessly. " Don't mal^e a fuss--

just be right still, so's not to skeer the coon

across the creek. Jewliillikens! Jest listen at

old Loud a lumberin*! "

And it was worth listening to. The mettle

of the dog--of both dogs--was now fairly up,

and they gave voice with a heat and vigor that

could hardly have been improved upon if they

ON THE PLANTATION.

been in sight of the fleeing raccoon. They

seemed to be running at full speed. They

pasted within twenty yards of where the hunt

ers stood,, snorting fiercely as they caught their

breith to bark. As they went by, Harbert sent

a wild halloo after them that seemed to add to

their ardor.

r

'' '* Now, then," exclaimed Jim-Polk, "weve



.

got :6 go. You take the axe, Harbert, and let

Joe :ake your light."

I Raising his torch aloft, Jim-Polk sprang for-

after the dogs, closely followed by Joe Max

well; and Harbert, while Mr. Snelso:i brought

up the rear. The clever printer was not a

woodsman, and he made his way through the

iindergrdwth and among the trees with great

difficulty. Once, when he paused for a moment

to disentangle his legs from the embrace of a

bamtoo brier, he found himself left far in the

and he yelled lustily to his compan

-
j Mother of Moses!" he exclaimed at the
r_
top is voice, "will ye be after leavin me in
the
Btkt for the quick ear of Harbert, he would
assundly have been left The other hunters

OLD ZIP COON.

waited for him, and he came up puffing and

blowing.

..

" I could cut a cord o' wood wit" half the ex

ertion I" he exclaimed. "Come, boys! let's sit

down an' have an understandin'. Me legs and

me whole body politic havd begun for to cry

out agin this harum-scarum performance. Shall

we go slower, or shall ye pick me up an* carry*

me?"

'. .

' . '; ,'"'

The boys were willing to compromise, but

in the ardor of the chase they would have for

gotten Mr. Snelson if that worthy gentleman

had not made his presence known by yelling at

them whenever they got too far ahead. The

dogs ran straight down the 6r*ek for a mile at

full speed. Suddenly Jim-Polk cried out:

"They've treed I"

,

" Yasser %" said Harbert, with a loud whcop;

"deymos'sholyisl" *.

. *'

.

.

\-.

** Then," said Mr. Snelson, sarcastically, "the

fun is all over--the jig is up, 'Tis a thousand

* *"^

*..

*

pities/' ; . ' . '

.'''''; , '

" Not much 1" exclaimed Jim-Polk, " The

fun's just begun. A coon ain't kotch jest be

. ^^

cause he's tip a tree."

4.

*

S

*

"

*' Well, sir/' said Mr. Snelson, with a serious

94

ON THE PLANTATION.

air,"if theyve got wings, upon me soul, we should have fetched a balloon."
When the hounds were trailing there was a mellow cadence in their tones which was not to Jbe h^ard when they barked at the tree. They gave mouth more deliberately, and in a meas ured way.
When the hunters arrived the hounds were alternately baying and gnawing at the foot of the tree.
" park r to bark!" exclaimed Mr. Snelson, with touch solemnity. His little joke was lost on all save Joe Maxwell, who was too much interested in the coon to laugh at it.
Much to Harberts delight, the tree was not a largfe one, and he made immediate prepara
tions to cut it down. : " ^Tait a minit," said Jim-Polk. " This coon aint ait home, and wed better be certain of the
tree he is in."
""^ou must have been visitin him," said the genial printer/"for how de ye know about his

"Spec of these days," said Jim-Polk, laugh ing, " pi come to your house an stay to dinner, ah* tell! you about how coons live in holler trees."

OLD ZIP COON.

95

"Fetch your dinner wit' ye," responded

Snelson, " and ye're more than welcome."

Jim-Polk was too busy to make a reply.

Holding the torch behind him, and waving it

slowly, he walked around the tree. He ap

peared to be investigating his own shadow,

which flickered and danced in the leaves and

branches. Now stooping and peering, now tip

toeing and craning his neck, now leaning to the

right and now to the left, he looked into the top

of the tree. Finally, he exclaimed :

" Here he is, Joe! Come, take a look at

him."

Joe tried his best to see the coon. He

looked where Jim-Polk pointed, taking sight

along his finger, but he was obliged to confess

that he could see nothing





"Gracious alive!" cried Jim-Polk, f< can't

you see his eyes a-shinin' in the leaves there ?"

"Pshaw!" exclaimed Joe; "I was looking

for the whole coon, and I thought the shiny

things were stars showing between the leaves." *

But no stars ever burned as steadily as the

pale-green little orbs that shone in the tree.

"Maybe," said Mr, Snelson, after trying in

vain to "shine" the coon's eyes--"maybe the

ON THE PLANTATION.
creature has left his eyes there and escaped." Bui the others paid no attention to his jocu larity.
-.- The thing to do now, Harbcn." said JimPolit, "is to lay that tree where it wont hit up agin no other tree, because if we dont well have to be a-cuttin an a-slashin in here all
4 So!" exclaimed Mr. Snelson, in a tragic tone. " Well, then, Ill der-raw the der-rapery of me couch about me and lie down to pleasant
i
der-^eams!"
*1 You see," said Jim-Polk, "if that tree hits agin another tree, off goes Mr. Zip Coon into tother one. Coon is quickern lightnin on the jump."
"Ill make er fall out dat way." Harbert indicated an open place by a wave of his hand.
" jUpon me soul!" exclaimed Mr. Snelson, " I didnt know you could make a tree fall up hffi."!
"Yes, suh!" said Harbert, with pardonable pride. "I done cleaned out too many new grbuns. I lay I kin drive a stob out dar an put de body er dish yer tree right pon top un it I kin dat!"

OLD ZIP COON.

97

With that Harbert rolled up his sleeves, dis playing the billowy muscles of his arms, wiped the blade of the axe, spat in his hands, swung the axe around his head, and buried it deep in the body of the water-oak. It was a sweeping, downward stroke, and it was followed quickly by others until in a very short time the tree began to sway a little. The dogs, which had ceased their baying, now became restless and ran wildly about, but always keeping a safe dis tance from the tree. Mr. Snelson took his stand on one side and Joe Maxwell on the other, while Jim-Polk went out where the tree was to fall, after cautioning Harbert to keep a look out for the coon. The advice to Harbert was given with good reason, for it is a favorite trick of the raccoon to start down the body of the tree as it falls and leap off while the dogs and hunters are looking for him in the bushy top.
This coon made the same experiment. As the tree swayed forward and fell, he ran down the trunk. Mr. Snelson saw him, gave a squall, and rushed forward to grab him. At the same moment Harbert gave a yell that was a signal to the dogs, and the excited creatures plunged

i2fi>i

.". - ON THE PLANTATION.

him. Whether it was Jolly or whether

Loud, no one ever knew, but one of the

soni. s

in his legs.

eTx^hcaittemgeenntlte,mraannbs ehtweeelesnflMewr.inSnthele-

air,land he fell on his back with a resounding

thump. Stunned and frightened, he hardly

knew what had happened. The last thing he

saw! was the coon, and he concluded that he had

:ureci the animal.

Murder!" he screamed; " Run here an*

take; em off! Run Here! Ive got em ! "

ten began a terrific struggle between Mr.

and a limb of the tree that just touched

his face, and this he kept up until he was lifted

to his feet. He made a ridiculous spectacle as

he stood there glaring angrily around as if try

ing !to find the man or the animal that had

knocked him down and pummeled him. His

coat was ripped and torn, and his pantaloons

weri split at both knees. He seemed to .real

ize ".the figure he cut in the eyes of his com-

Oh, laugh away!" he cried. "Tis yure tunity. The next time it will be at some
yere laughing. Upon me soul! " he on, examining himself, " Id *ha fared

OLD ZIP COON.

99

better in the battle of Manassus. So this is

your coon-hunting, is it? If the Lord and the

coon 11 forgive me for me share in this night's

worruk, the devil a coon will I hunt any more

whatever." ;

Meanwhile the coon had jumped from the

tree, with the hounds close behind him. They

had overrun him on the hill, and this gave him

an opportunity to get back to the swamp, where

the dogs could not follow so rapidly. Yet the

coon had very little the advantage. As Jim-

Polk expressed it, " the dogs had their teeth on

edge,'* and they were rushing after him without

any regard for brake or brier, lagoon or quag

mire. The only trouble was with Mr. Snelson,

who declared that he was fagged out.



*

c

"Well," says Jim-Polk, "we've got to keep

in hearm' of the dogs. The best we can do is

to fix you up with a light an' let you follow

along the best way you can. You couldn't get

lost if you wanted to, 'cause all you've got to do

is to follow the creek, an' you're boun' to ketch

up with us."

So Mr. Snelson, in spite of his prediction that

he would get lost in the wilderness, and be de

voured by the wild beasts, to say nothing of

' - ON THE PLANTATION.
.
frightened to death by owls, was provided a torch. Then the boys and Harbert le a dash in the direction of the dogs. If thought to leave Mr. Snelson, they reck oned ill, for that worthy man, flqurisliing the tore hover his head, managed to keep them in sight ' The dogs are not very far away," said Joe. "TLey ought to have gone a couple of miles by this time/ ; Old Zip is in trouble," said Jim-Polk. " He has been turnin' an' doublin', an' twistin', an1 squi iin'. He can't shake ole Loud off, an' he can': git home. So what's he goin' to do ? " Climb another tree, I reckon," said Joe. Not much ! " exclaimed Jim. " He'll take to water." "the dogs got no farther away, but the chase still kept up. The coon seemed to be going in all (^irectibns, across and around, and presently the (Jogs began to bay. "He's gone in a-washin'!" exclaimed JimPolk ,, with a yell. Bless me soul! and how do ye know that?" exck imed Mr. Snelson, who came up puffing and >lowing.

OLD ZIP COON.

101

" Oh, I know mor?n that," said Jim-Polk.

"The coon's in the water, 'cause when the dogs bark at him it don't soun' like it did when they had their heads in the air; an' he's in swimmin*

water, 'cause, if he wan't, he'd a* been kilt by

this time."

\

It was as Jim-Polk said. When the hunters

reached the dogs they could see the coon swim

ming around and around in the center of a small

lagoon, while the dogs were rushing about on

the banks.

,

" I wish to goodness," exclaimed Harbert

" dat dey wuz some young dogs wid us, bekaze

den we'd have de biggest kind er fight. Dey'd

swim in dar atter dat coon, an' he'd fetch um

a swipe er two, an' den jump on der heads

an'duck um. Gentermens! he sholy is a big un."

" You're right!" exclaimed Jim-Polk. "He's

one of the old-timers. He'd put up a tremen-

jus fight if he didn't have old Loud to tackle,

--Fetch him out, boys ! " he .cried to the dogs,

"fetch him out!"

'

Long experience had taught the dogs.their

tactics. Jolly swam in and engaged the cdon's

attention, while Loud followed, swimming side-

...-.

8

; . ..

1O2

ON THE PLANTATION.

wise toward the center. Jolly swam around

slowly, while Loud seemed to drift toward the

coon, ^till presenting a broadside, so to speak.

The coon, following the movements of Jolly,

had paid no attention to Loud. Suddenly he

saw the dog, and sprang at him, but it was too

late. Loud ducked his head, and, before the

coo.ni could recov-er, fastene.d his powerful jaws on the creatures ribs. There was a loud sqfcall,

a fierce shake, and the battle was over.

But before the dog could bring the coon to

the (bank, Mr. Snelson uttered a paralyzing

shriek and ran for the water. Harbert tried to

hold' * hi im back.



: "puch! loose me! loose me! Ill brain ye

if ye clont loose me !"

. Snaking Harbert off, the printer ran to the

edge of the lagoon, and soused his hand and

arm in the water. In his excitement he had

held the torch straight over his head, and the

hot pitch from the fat pine had run on his hand

and down his sleeve.

/"Look at me !" he exclaimed, as they went

slowly homeward. "Just look at me! The

poor Wife11 have to doctor me body an darn

me clothes, an theyre all Ive got to me name.

OLD ZIP COON.

103

If ye'll stand by me, Joe," he went on patheti cally, " I'll do your worruk meself, but ye shall have two afternoons next week." And Joe Maxwell <* stood by " Mr. Snelson the best he could.

CHAPTER VIII.

SOMETHING ABOUT "SANDY CLAUS. "

house on the Turner place was

not far from the kitchen, and the kitchen itself

was only a few feet removed from the big

house ; in fact, there was a covered passageway

between them. From the back steps of the

kitchen two pieces of hewn timber, half buried

in the soil, led to Harbert's steps, thus forming,

as the^ negro called it, a wet-weather path, over

which'i Mr. Turner's children could run when the r^st.of the yard had been made muddy by

the fall and winter rains.

Harbert's house had two rooms and two fire-

-i

'

-

placei. One of the rooms was set apart for him

and his wife, while the other was used as a weav-

ing-rdom. In one Harbert used to sit at night

and amuse the children with his reminiscences

and his stories; in the other Aunt Crissy used

to wave all day and sing, keeping time with

the flying shuttle and the dancing slays. The

, SOMETHING ABOUT "SANDY CLAUS." IO5
"i

children might tire of their toys, their ponies,

and everything else, but they could always find

something to interest them in Harbert's house.

There were few nights, especially during the

winter, that did not find them seated by the

negro's white hearthstone. On special occa

sions they could hardly wait to finish supper

before going out to see him. Sometimes they

found Aunt Crissy there, and as she was fat and

good-humored--not to say jolly--she was always

a welcome guest, so far as the children were

concerned. As for Harbert, it was all one to

him whether Aunt Crissy was present or not.
v1
To use his own sententious phrase, she was

welcome to come or she was welcome to stay

awajr. Frequently Joe Maxwell would go and

sit there with them, especially when' he was feel

ing lonely and homesick.

One evening, in the early part of December,

the children hurried through their supper of

bread and butter and milk, and ran to Harbert's

house. Aunt Crissy was there, and her fat face

and white teeth shone in the firelight as she sat

smiling at the youngsters.

.''',

" I done got Chris'mas in my bones," she

was saying, as Wattie and Willie entered.

ON THE PLANTATION.

" Well, I aint gwine ter say dat," said Har

bert, " kaze Im dat ole dat I aint got no roo-

mance in my bones fer notiontall, ceppin tis

de rheumatism; yit dat dont hender Chrismas,

an* I aint makin no deniance but what hits in

dea>."

"iNow you er talkin," exclaimed Aunt

Crissly, with unction. You mos sholy is."

There was a little pause, and then Harbert

cried out:

" in de name er goodness, des lissen at dat!"

What was it? The wind, rising and falling,

ebbing and flowing like the great waves f the

sea, whistled under the eaves, and sighed

mournfully over the chimney. But it was not

the : wI ind


that

Harb ert


heard.

T'here was a

sharp rattling on the shingles and a swift pat

tering at the windows. Harbert and Aunt

Crissy looked at each other and then at the

childi-en. " Vhat is it?" asked Wattie, drawing a little

closer to Harbert.
"Pshaw! I know what it is," said Willie,

"its sleet." Harbert shook his head gravely

as he gazed in the fire.

SOMETHING ABOUT "SANDY CLAUS." IO7

" It mought be," he said, " an' den agin it

moughtn't. It mought be ole Sandy Claus

sorter skirmishin* roun' an' feelin' his way.'*

" Trufe, too," said Aunt Crissy, falling in

with the idea. "He moughtn't want to skeer

nobody, so he des let folks b'lieve tain't nothin*

but sleet. Dey tells me dat ole man Sandy

Claus is monstus slick."

" He bleedze ter be slick," remarked Har-

bert, " kaze I bin livin' yere, off an' on, a mighty

long time, an* I ain't saw 'im yit. An' I let

"y

}7u know hit got ter be a mighty slick man

dat kin dodge me all dis time. He got to be

bofe slick an'peart."

"Yasser," said Aunt Crissy, holding her

apron up by the corner, and looking at it

thoughtfully; "he slick fer true. He light

'pon top er de house same ez a jay-bird, an'

dey ain't no scufflin' when he slide down de

chimberly."

"Dey sez," said Harbert, in a reminiscent

/way--"dey sez dat he rubs hisse'f wid goose-

grease fer ter make he j'ints limber an' loose;

when he got dis yere grease on -im dey can't

%

'-*".,'

nobody ketch 'im, kaze he'd slip right out'n

der ban's."

108

ON THE PLANTATION.

"I speck dat's so," said Aunt Crissy, "kaze

one lime when I wuz livin' wid Marse Willyum

Henry an' sleepin' in de house in time er Chris'-

mas, I tuck'n he'p'd de chilluh hang up der

stocking. After dey all got ter bed, I sot by de i'
fier ^-noddin'. How long I sot dar I'll never

tell ^ou, but all of a sudden I yeard a turrible i.
racket, I gun a jump; I did, an' open my eyes.

De obtside do' wuz open, an' stannin' dar wuz

. one eir Marse Willyum Henry's houn' dogs. He

stood dar, he did, wid his bristles up, an' dar in

de middle er the flo' wuz de ole cat. Her back

. wuz all bowed up, an* her tail"--here Aunt

Crissy paused and looked all around the room

j

-

"

as if in search of something with which to com

pare the old cat's tail--" I ain't tellin' you no lie ;

dat cat tail wuz bigger 'roun' dan my arm ! "

. " I don't 'spute it," exclaimed Harbert, with

fervor^i, " dat I don't." "An'dat ain't all." Aunt Crissy closed her

eyes .-aind thre w he' r' head bac k-, a' s if to add emphasis to what she was about to say. "Dat

ain't a|H--<iem ar stockin's wuz^ done fulled up

wid goodies, an' dey wuz done fulled up whilst

I wuz ^-settin' right dar." No style of type has

yet been invented that would convey even a

SOMETHING ABOUT "SANDY CLAUS." 109

:

faint idea of the impressive tone in which Aunt Cissy made this startling announcement.
"Ole Sandy wuz gittin' you in close quar ters, mon," exclaimed Harbert.
"Man, you er talkin' now," said Aunt Crissy. "I wuz settin' right spang at de fierplace," she went on, describing her position with appropriate gestures, "an'I could er des retched out my han'--so--an' totched de stockin's, an' yit, 'spite er dat, 'long come ole Sandy Claus, whilst I wuz settin' dar noddin' an' fulled um up. Dat des what he done. He come, he did, an' fulled um up right fo' my face. Ef my eyes had er des bin open I'd a seed 'im, an' ef I'd a seed 'im, I'd a grabbed 'im right by de coat-tail. Yasser! I'd a grabbed 'im ef he'd a kyar'd me up de chimberly."
Wattie and Willie listened open-mouthed, so intense was their interest; and so, it may be said, did Joe Maxwell. But now Willie spoke:
"Suppose you had caught him, Aunt Crissy, what would you have done then ?"
"Shoo, honey! I'd a helt him hard an' fas': I'd a rastled wid 'im, an' when he 'gun ter git de better un me, I'd a squalled out same ez one

no

ON THE PLANTATION.

i

.

er dez yere wiY cats. Id a squalled so loud Id

a fair larmed de settlement."

Aunt Crissy paused, folded her fat arms

across her broad bosom and looked in the fire.

Harbert, with a long pair of tongs, as musical as

those that Shakespeare wrote about, put the

noses of the chunks together, and carefully

placed a fat pine knot in the center. Then he

leaned back in his chair, and rubbed his chin

thoughtfully.

" Well," said he, after a while, "I dunno ez

I bin close to ole Sandy Claus as what you is,

Sis Crissy, but I bin mighty close, an taint bin

so mighty long ago needer. One night des *fo

Christmas I wuz gwine long thoo de woods

close by de Ward place. I wuz gwine long, I

wuz, sorter studyin wid nrysef bout whedder I

ought ter hang up my stockins wid de res er

de folks, when, fus news I know, look like I kin

year de win* blowin. Hit soun so loud dat I

stop right in my tracks an ax myse f what de

name 6r goodness is de matter. I aint feel no

win* an* I aint see no bush shakin, but up dar

i n -d'e'tjop er de tree' s hit look *like dey wuz a

mj

regIarhurrycane a blowin. Man, sir! she fair

roared up dar, yit I aint see no win, an I aint

SOMETHING ABOUT "SANDY CLAUS." Ill
see no bush a shakin'. Hit make me feel so quare dat ef a hick'y-nut had a drapped anywhar nigh me, I'd a broke an' run fum dar like de Ole Boy wuz atter me. Hit make me feel so funny dat I ain't know whedder it wuz ole man Harbert out dar, or some yuther nigger dat done got los' in some new country. I stood dar, I did, en des waited fer sump'n ner ter hap pen, but bimeby de noise all quit, an' de roarin' died down, twel you could a yeard a pin drop. I kotch my bref, I did, an' I 'low ter myself dat all dat racket up in de a'r dar mus' sholy a-bin ole Sandy Claus agwine sailirt' by. Dat what I had in my min', yit I ain't stop dar fer ter make no inquirements. I des put out, I did, an' I went a polin' home, an' it make me feel mighty good when I got dar."
The children visited Harbert's house every night for several nights before Christmas, but somehow they didn't seem to enjoy themselves. Harbert was so busy with one thing and another that they felt themselves in the way. They had the ardor and the hope of childhood, however, and they continued their visits with persistent regu larity. They were very patient, comparatively speaking, and their patience was finally rewarded.

112

ON THE PLANTATION.

T/he night before Christmas, when their in

terests and expectations were on the point of

.culmination, they found Harbert sitting in front

of thb fire, his head thrown back and his hands

folded in his lap; and before the little ones

could fix themselves comfortably, Aunt Crissy

walked in and flung herself into a chair.

" Whoo-ee7 " she exclaimed. "I'm dat tired

dat I can't skacely drag one foot 'fo' de yuther.

i

'

Look like I bin on my feet mighty nigh a mont',

dat it do, an' I'm dat stiff, I feel like some er my

lim's gwine ter break in two. Dey ain't nothin'

on dis plantation dat I ain't had my han's in,

/specially ef it's work. It's Crissy ye re, an

Crissy dar, de whole blessed time, an' I dun'

ner what de lazy niggers 'roun' yere would do

ef Crissy wuz to take a notion ter peg out.

Mistiss got old Charity in de kitchin' dar a-

cookin' an* a-growlin', but when dey's any nice

cookin* ter be done, Crissy got ter go an' do

it. I wouldn't mind it so much," Aunt Crissy

went pn, " ef dem yuther niggers'd do like dey

.

i

tuck slome intruss in what's gwine on, but you

know ;yo'se% Brer Harbert, how no 'count dey
is."
i
"Ah,. Lord! you nee'nt ter tell me, Sis

SOMETHING ABOUT "SANDY GLAUS." 11$
Crissy, I know urn; I know u'm all. An' jit de}~'ll all be scrougin' one ane'r 'fo' day arter termorrow mbrnin' fer ter see which gwine ter be de fus fer ter holler Chris'mas gif at marster an' mistiss. Now you watch um! dey'll all be dar, an1 dey ain't none un um skacely yearned der salt. I'm mighty nigh run down. Dis mornin' de stock in de lot wuz a hollerin' fer der feed, an' it wuz broad daylight at dat. Den dar wuz de milkin': hit wuz atter sun-up 'fo' dat Marthy Ann got ter de cow-pen. Dat gal blood kin ter you, Sis Crissy, but I done laid de law down; I done tole 'er dat de nex' time she come creepin' out dat late, I wuz gwine to whirl in anr gi' 'er a frailin', an* I'm gwine to do it ef de Lord spar's me."
"Nummine 'bout no kinnery, Brer Harbert," said Aunt Crissy, with emphasis. "You des git you a brush an' wa'r dat gal out. She new ban* wid de cows, but tooby sho' she kin git out 'fo' sun-up."
" I'm mighty glad," Harbert remarked, glanc ing at the children, who were not at all inter ested in the "worriments" of those faithful negroes--" I'm mighty glad dat Chris'mas is so nigh. De corn done in de crib, de fodder in de

114

ON THE PLANTATION.

i, de cotton n de gin-house, de hogs done

kilt an put up, an* ef Charity aint mightly be

hindhand de turkey done in de pot. Dat bein

de case, what mo kin we ax, ceptin we git dowin yere on de flo an* ax a blessin ? "

"Trufe, toot" exclaimed Aunt Crissy. "I

aint quollin, but dem niggers is so owdacious

lazy dat dey keeps me pestered."

." Yasser! " continued Harbert, " de signs all

look like deyer right. When I sets right flat

.down an run it all over, hit make me feel so

good dat I got a great mine fer ter hang up my

sock right dar side er de chimbly-jam, an set

up yere an* watch fer ter see ole Sandy Claus

come a-slidindown. Ef his foot wuz ter slip,

an* he wuz ter drap diown on dat pot-rack dar, I i .*
lay fced wake up de whole plantation. My

sock aint so mighty long in de leg," Harbert

went on, reflectively, " but she mighty big in

.de foot, an ef ole Sandy Claus wuz ter take a

notion fer ter fill er plum up, shed lighten his

wallet mightly."

" pid you ever hang up your stockings, Har

bert^" asked Willie.

*-. .

"Why, tooby sho*, honey," replied the negro,

laughing. " I bin hang um up way back yander

SOMETHING ABOUT "SANDY CLAUS." 11$
'fo' you wuz born'd. An' I used ter git goodies in um, too. Lord! dem wuz times, sho' nuff. I used ter git goodies in um dem days, but now I speck I wouldn't git so much ez a piece er 'lasses candy. But, nummine 'bout dat! I'll des take en hang um up dis night, an' I'll be mighty glad ef I git a slishe er cracklin' bread. Dat kinder bread good nuff for me, 'specially when it right fre'sh."
" Man, don't talk ! " exclaimed Aunt Crissy. "Look like I kin in about tas'e it now ! "
" Aunt Crissy, are you going to hang up your stockings ? " asked Wattie.
" Bless yo' soul, honey! I mos' got in de notion un it. Ef 'twan't dat I'm a sleepin* up in old Granny Chancy house fer ter sorter keep 'er comp'ny, I speck I would hang uni up. But dey tells me dat 'twon't do no good ef you hang up yo' stockin's in some un else house. 'Sides dat, ole Granny Chaney so restless dat she'd in about skeer old Sandy Claus off ef he 'uz to start ter come. I'm a tellin' you de trufe, Brer Harbert, dat ole creetur done got so dat she don't skacely close 'er eyes fer sleep de whole blessed night. She take so many naps endurin* 'er de day, dat when night come she des ez

ON THE PLANTATION.
ceful ez dat ole black cat what stay up dar at de barn.
"Dat ole oman gittin ole, mon/ said Harberfc. " She wuz done grown an had chillun when I wuz little baby. She lots older dan what I is, an* I aint no chicken mysef. I speck ef sihe *uz ter go back an* count up er Chrismases, she done seed mighty nigh ez many ez wha1 ! ole Sandy Claus is/*
*f Well,* said Aunt Crissy, changing the sub. ject, " I aint gwine hang up no stockin, kaze I
speck dat whatsomever ole Sandy Claus got fer me, hell drap it somrs in de big house, an when I holler at marster an* mistiss in de mornin, 4ey*U fetch it out.*
"Dats so,** said Harbert " Yit I got a mighty good notion fer ter hang up mine an* take de resk. But Id a heap ruther git sumpin dats too big fer ter go in um."
"|Well, we are going to hang up our stock ings/* said Willie. " Im going to hang up both of mjne, and Wattie says she*s going to hang up ; both of hers.*V
"JDats right, honey; an* if dat ain*t nuff whirl in an hang up a meal-sack. I done bin year ;ell Jfo now bout folks what hang up great

SOMETHING ABOUT "SANDY CLAUS."
big bags stidder der stockin's. Whedder dey got any mo' dan t'er folks is mo' dan I kin tell you."
" Harbert," said Wattie, " do you reckon we'll git anything at all ?"
" Oh, I speck so," said the negro. "I ain't year talk er you bein' so mighty bad dis long time. You cuts Up scan'lous sometimes, but it's kaze yo' buddy dar pesters you."
This suggestion made Willie so angry that he threatened to go back to the big house and go to bed, and he would have gone but for a remark made by Aunt Crissy--a remark that made him forget his anger.
" Dey tells me," said Aunt Crissy, in a sub dued tone, " dat de cows know when Chris'mas come, an* many's de time I year my mammy say dat when twelve o'clock come on Chris'maseve night, de cows gits down on der knees in de lot an* stays dat-away some little time. Ef any body else had er tole me dat I'd a des hooted at um, but, mammy, she say she done seed urn do it. I ain't never seed um do it myse'f, but mammy say she seed um."
" I bin year talk er dat myse'f," said Harbert, reverently, "an* dey tells me dat de ca' ttle "gits

ON THE PLANTATION
down an prays bekaze dats de time when de Lord an Saviour wuz bornd."
"Now, dont dat beat all!" exclaimed Aunt Crfesy. " Ef de dumb creeturs kin say der prars, I dunner what folks ought ter be doin."
fAn dars de chickens," Harbert went on "look like dey know ders sumpn up. Dis vey night I year de roosters crowin fo sevn oclock. I year tell dat dey crows so soon in sign dat Peter made deniance un his Lord an Marster." . " ! speck dats so," said Aunt Crissy.
[. Hit bleedze ter be so," responded the old mart with the emphasis that conies from convicuon.
Then he intimated that it was time for the children to go to bed if they wanted to get up early the next morning to see what Sandy Claus had brought. This was a suggestion the young sters could appreciate, and they scrambled out of the door and went racing to the big house. .
Before sunrise the plantation was in a stir. The negroes, rigged out in their Sunday clothes, were laughing, singing, wrestling, and playing. The ! mules and horses having- been fed and turned in the pasture for a holiday, were caper ing about; the cows were lowing in a satisfied

SOMETHING ABOUT "SANDY CLAUS. 119
mariner, the dogs were barking, the geese screaming, the turkeys " yelping " and gobbling, and the chickens cackling. A venerable billygoat, with a patriarchal beard and the rings of many summers marked on his broad and crum pled horns, had marched up one of the long arms of the packing-screw and was now perched motionless on the very pinnacle of that quaint structure, making a picturesque addition to the landscape, as he stood outlined against the red dening eastern sky.
Willie and Wattie were up so early that they had to feel for their stockings in the dark, and their exclamations of delight, when they found them well filled, aroused the rest of the house hold. By the time breakfast was over the ne groes were all assembled in.the yard, and they seemed to be as happy as the children, as their laughter and their antics testified. Towering above them all was Big Sam, a giant in size and a child in disposition. He was noted for miles around for his feats of strength. He could shoulder a bale of cotton weighing five hundred pounds, and place it on a wagon; and though he was proud of his ability in this direction, he was riot too proud to be the leader in ail the

120 |

ON THE PLANTATION.

frolics. He was even fuller of laughter and

good-humor than his comrades, and on this par-

ticular morning, while the negroes were waiting

for the usual Christmas developments, Big Sam,

his eyes glistening and his white teeth shining,

i



struck up the melody of a plantation play-song,

and In a few minutes the dusky crowd had ar-

rangexl itself in groups, each and all joining in

the song. No musical director ever had a more

melodious chorus than that which followed the

leadership of Big Sam. It was not a trained

chords, to be sure,, but the melody that it gave

to the winds of the morning was freighted with

a quality indescribably touching and tender.

In the midst of the song Mr. Turner ap

peare. dj on the back p iazza, and instantly a shout went up:

" (^hrismas gif, marster! Chrismas gif!"

and then, a moment later, there was a cry of

"Chrismas gif,, mistiss !"

< Where is Harbert?" inquired Mr. Turner,

waving his hand and smiling.

"Sere me, marster!" exclaimed Harbert,

coming forward from one of the groups.

" Why, you havent been playing, have you ? "

"I bin tryin my han, suh, an I monstus

SOMETHING ABOUT "SANDY CLAUS." .121
glad you come out, kaze I ain't nimble like I useter wuz. Dey got me in de middle er dat ring dar, an' I couldn't git out nohow."
" Here are the store-room keys. Go and open the door, and I will be there directly."
It was a lively crowd that gathered around the wide door of the store-room. For each of the older ones there was a stiff dram apiece, and for all, both old and young, there was a present of some kind. The presents were 'of a substantial character, top. Those who had made crops of their own found a profitable market right at their master's door. Some of them had made as much as two bales of cotton on the land they were permitted to cultivate, while others had made good crops of corn--all of which was bought by their master. . " Then the big six-mule wagon was brought into service, and into this was packed the horsecollars, made of shucks and wahoo-bark, the baskets, the foot-mats, the brooms, the walk ing-canes, and the axe-helves, that were to find a market in the town nine miles away.
In spite of the war, it was a happy time, and Joe Maxwell was as happy as any of the rest

.

CHAPTER IX.

.

-

! DESERTERS AND RUNAWAYS.

''I.'.''

-

'

.

. ALL was peace on the plantation, but war

has long arms, and it dropped its gifts of pov

erty and privation in many a humble home with

whic- hi Joe Maxw ell was familiar. War has its bill of fare, too, and much of it was not to Joe's

--

taste. For coffee there were various substitutes :

f- ' ,
..r'

sweet potatoes, chipped and dried, parched

.i

F- ' meal, parched rye;, parched okra-seeds, and sas

safras tea, Joe's beverage was water sweetened

with ^orghum-sirup, and he found it a very

refreshing and wholesome drink. Some of the

dishes that were popular in the old colonial

days were revived. There was persimmon

bread ; whatc.o-ul.d-be more toothsome tha. n that ? Yet a little of it went a long way, as Mr.

Wall dsed to say. And there was potato pone-

sweet potatoes boiled, kneaded, cut into pones,

r ,..-'. .



.



and baked. And then there was callalou--a

"=

DESERTERS AND RUNAWAYS.

123

mixture of collards, poke salad, and turnip greens boiled for dinner and fried over for sup per. This was the invention of Jimsy, an old negro brought over from the West Indies,

\
Zimzi.
whose real name was Zimzi, and .who always ran away when anybody scolded him.
The old-fashioned loom and spinning-wheel were kept going, and the women made their own dyes. The girls made their hats of rye

ON THE PLANTATION.

add wheat straw, and some very pretty bonnets

made of the fibrous substance that grows

in the vegetable known as the bonnet squash.

It was agreed on all sides that times were

very bard, and yet they seemed very pleasant

and comf ortable to *J* oe Maxwell. He had never seen i aoney more plentiful. Everybody seemed

to hare some, and yet nobody had enough. It

was all in Confederate bills, and they were all .
new and fresh and crisp. Joe had some of it

hirase f, and he thought he was growing rich.

But t ic more plentiful the money became, the

higher went the price of everything.

After a while Joe noticed that the older men

. became more serious^ There were complaints

I

*

in the newspapers of speculators and extortion-



*

ers--o men who..im/p.os.e.d on and mistreated

the widows and wive& of the soldiers! And

...

.

'

.

s

then there was a law passed preventing the

farmer; from planting only so many acres of

land In cotton, in order that more food might be

for the army, , After this came the im-

&t law, which gave the Confederate ofR-

pials the rijght to seize private property, horses,

moles, % ad provisions. And then came the con-

_'(" ^ V

DESERTERS AND RUNAWAYS.

12$

There was discontent among the men who

were at home, but they were not left to make

any serious complaints. One by one the con

script officers seized all except those who were

exempt and hurried them off to the front.

Those who thought it a disgrace to be con

scripted either volunteered or hired themselves

as substitutes.

,

This is the summing up of the first three

years of the war, so far as it affected Joe Max

well. The impression made upon him was of

slow and gradual growth. He only knew that

trouble and confusion were abroad in the land.

He could see afterward what a lonely and des

perate period it must have been to those who

had kinsmen in the war; but, at that time, all

these things were as remote from him as a

dream that is half remembered. He set up the

editor's articles, criticising Governor Joe Brown

for some attacks he had made on the Confeder

ate Government, without understanding them

fully; and he left Mr. Wall, the hatter, who was

a violent secessionist, to discuss the situation

with Mr. Bonner, the overseer, who was a Whig,

and something of a Union man.

Late one afternoon, after listening to a heated

126

ON THE PLANTATION.

dispute between Mr. Wall and Mr. Bonner, Joe

concladed that he would take a run in the fields

with Jjie harriers. So he called and whistled

for them, but they failed to come. Harbert

thought they had followed some of the planta

tion hands, but, as this rarely happened, Joe

was ol the opinion that they had gone hunt

ing on their own account. They were very

busy ^nd restless little dogs, and it was not

uncommon for them to go rabbit-hunting for

themselves. Going toward Mr. Snelsons, Joe

.thought he could hear them running a rabbit

on the1 farther side of the plantation. He went in thatJ dire ction, but -found, after a while, that

they were running in the Jack Adams place,

and as he went nearer thev seemed to eet far-

ther aw!ay. "Finally, when h*e did come up wi.th

.. i

"

the dots, he found that they were not the har

riers at all, but a lot of curs and "fices." And

then now it happened he was never able to

explain Joe suddenly discovered that he was

lost.

Perhaps if the idea had never occurred to

him he would never have been lost, but the

thought flashed in his mind and stayed there.

He stood still in his tracks and looked all

DESERTERS AND RUNAWAYS.

127

around, but the idea that he was really lost

confused him. He was not frightened--he was

not even uneasy. But he knew he was lost.

Everything was strange and confusing. Even

the sun, which was preparing to go to bed, was

in the wrong place. Joe laughed at himself.

Certainly he could return the way he came, so

he faced about, as he thought, and started

home.

Walking and running he went forward rap

idly, and he had need to, for the sun had gone

behind a cloud, and the cloud, black and threat

ening, was rising and filling the sky. How long

he had been going Joe did not know, but sud

denly he found himself near an old cabin. It

was built of logs, and the chimney, which had been made of sticks and red clay, had nearly

4

fallen down. The lad knew that this cabin was

neither on the Turner plantation nor on the

Jack Adams place. He had never heard any of

the negroes allude to it, and he realized the fact

that he had been running away from home.

Near the deserted house were the remnants

of an orchard. A pear-tree, jagged and un

shapely, grew not far from the door, while an

apple-tree, with a part of its trunk rotted away,

128

ON THE PLANTATION.

Stood near a corner of the cabin. A growth of

pines arid scrub-oak showed that the place had

been deserted for many a long year. .V quarter

of a mile away, through the gathering darkness,

Joe could see a white fringe gleaming against

the horizon. He knew that this was a fog, and

that it rose from the river. Following the line

of the fog, he could see that the cabin was in a

bend of the river--the Horseshoe, as he had

heard it called and he knew that he was at

least four miles from home. By this time the

cloud had covered all the heavens. Away off

in the woods he could hear the storm coming,

sounding like a long-drawn sigh at first, and

then ! falling with a sweeping rush and roar.

jdb hai d no. choice but . to seek shelter in the old bouse. He was a stout-hearted youngster, and

yet he could not resist the feeling of uneasiness

and dread that came over him at the thought of

spending the night in that lonely place. But

.there was no help for it. He could never find
iy home i.n the darkness, and so he made

the best of what seemed to him a very bad

matter. The cabin was almost a wreck, but it

serv-'e-di "to k' ee'.p off the' rai' n .

'.' !

Joe went in and explored the inside as care-

DESERTERS AND RUNAWAYS.

129

fully as he could in the darkness. A wood-rat or flying-squirrel rattled along the rafters 'as he entered, and the loose puncheons of which the floor was made bumped up and down as he walked across them. In one corner, as he .went groping about, he found a pile, of shticks--cornhusks--and straw, and he judged that the old cabin had sometimes been used as a temporary . barn. After satisfying himself that no other person or creature had taken shelter there, Joe tried to close the door. He found this to be a difficult matter. The sill of the house had settled so that the door was on the floor. He pushed it as far as it would go, and then groped his way back to the shucks and quickly made a bed of them. He was fagged out, and the shucks and straw made a comfortable pallet--so comfortable, indeed, that by the time he had made up his mind that it was a pleasant thing to lie there and listen to the rain rushing down on the weather-beaten roof, he was fast asleep.
How long he slept he did not know, but sud denly he awoke to discover that he was not the only person who had sought shelter in the cabin. The rain was still falling on the roof, but he eould hear some one talking in a low totier. He

130

ON THE PLANTATION.

lay quite still and listened with all his ears.

He soon discovered that the new-comers were

negroes, whether two or three he could not

tell. | Presently he could distinguish what they

said. The storm had ceased so that it no longer

drowned their voices.

"I tell you what, mon," said one, "ole Injun

Bill kin run ef he is chunky."

" Lor'! I had ter run ef I gwine fer keep up

wid old Mink." said the other.

. " Bless you!" responded the first voice, " I

i



~

.

_

kin run when I git de invertation, else ole Bill

Lockd an' his nigger dogs would a done cotch

me long ago."

.

"Dey ain't been atter me," said the second

voice, "but I'm a spectin' un um eve'y day, an'

when dey does--gentermen! I'm a-gwine ter

scratch gravel! You hear what I tell you !"

" I come so fas'," remarked the first voice,

dat all dem ar buckeyes what I had done

bounc^ outer my pocket."

L

.'

.

' . .



" What you gwine fer do wid so many buck-

'eyes ?'j asked the second voice.

" Who ? Me! Oh, I^wuz des savin' um up fer

dat ar white boy what stay long wid de print-

in* machine," said the first voice. " He holp me

fc.~-

DESERTERS AND RUNAWAYS.

'long one time. Harbert, he say dat white boy

is des ez good ter niggers ez ef dey all b'long

ter im, an' he say he got a head on 'im. Dat

what Harbert say."

"I bin see 'im," said the second voice. " I

don't like white folks myse'f, but I speck dat

boy got good in 'im. He come fum town."

Joe Maxwell knew at once that one of the

voices belonged to Mink, the runaway, and he

judged that the other belonged to Injun Bill,

whose reputation was very bad. He knew also

that the two negroes were talking about him,

and he was not only gratified at the compli

ments paid him, but felt safer than if he had

been alone in the cabin. In a spirit of mischief

he called out in a sepulchral tone of voice:

" Where's Mink ? I want Mink ! " .

He tried to imitate the tone that he had

heard mothers sometimes employ when they

are trying to frighten crying children into

silence with the bogie man. There was no

reply from Mink, but Joe could hear the two

&:4

negroes breathing hard. Then, imitating the

voice of a woman, he cried out:

"Where's Injun Bill? I want Injun Bill! "

Imagining how horrified the negroes were,

ON THE PLANTATION.
arid how they looked as they sat on the floor quI a'king wi.th terror, J.oecould' not . restrain himself. He fell into a fit of uncontrollable laughter that caused him to scatter the shucks all over the floor. This proceeding, wholly un-
Injun Bifl, whose reputation was very bad.
accountable, added to the terror of the negroes. Injun Bill; as it afterward appeared, made a wild leap for the door, but his foot caught in a crack in the floor and he fell headlong. On top
.A!

DESERTERS AND RUNAWAYS.

133

of him fell Mink, and each thought he had

been caught by the thing that had frightened

him. They had a terrific scuffle on the floor,

writhing over and under each other in their

efforts to escape. Finally, Mink, who was the

more powerful of the two, pinned Injun Bill to

the floor.

" Who dis ? " he cried, breathing hard with fear and excitement.

"Me! Dat who 'tis!" said Injun Bill,

angrily. " What you doin' 'pon top er me ? "

This complication caused Joe Maxwell to

laugh until he could scarcely catch his breath.

But at last he managed to control his voice.

" What in the name of goodness are you two

trying to do?"

" Name er de Lord ! " exclaimed Mink, " who

is you, anyhow ? "

"Dat what I like ter know," said Injun Bill,

in a surly tone.

" Why, you've just been talking about me,"

replied Joe. "I"lay there on the shucV^ and

heard you give me a great name."

" Is dat you, little marster ?" cried Mink.

" Well, suh ! Ef dat don't beat my time! How

come you sech a fur ways fum yo* surroundin's?".

10

>

ON THE PLANTATION.
Joe explained as briefly as possible that he wak lost.
"Well; well, well!" said Mink, by way of comment. " You sholy gimme a turn dat time. Lit.tl{e mo* an* Id a thought de ole boy had me. Ef Id a bin by mysef when I hear dat callin I lay Id a to down de whole side er de house. Dish yer nigger long wid me, little marster, he name Injun Bill. He say: "
f Sh sh! " said Injun Bill, softly. Then in a whisper " watch out! "
joe was about to say something, but sud denly he heard the sound of approaching foot steps. The negroes by a noiseless movement stepped close against the wall. Joe lay still. The new-comers entered the door without hesitation. They had evidently been there before.
| Ill take an* put my gun in the corner here," said one. " Now, dont go blunderin* aroun an knock it over; it might go off."
, <j Alt right," said the other. Where is it ? Ill put mine by it."
Then they seemed to be unfastening their belts.
" Haint you got a match ? " said one. " Im

DESERTERS AND RUNAWAYS.

135

as wet as a drownded rat. I've got some kindiiri* somewheres about my cloze. My will, ef I had it fried," he went on, " would be to be set down in front of a great big fireplace adryin' myse'f, an' a knowin' all the time that a great big tray of hot biscuit an''leven pounds of butter was a waitin' for me in the kitchen."
" Thunderation!" exclaimed the other," don't talk that way. You make me so nervous I can't find the matches."
" Oh, well," said the first, " I was jist a thinkin' about eatin\ I wish Mink 'ud come on ef he's a-comin'."
" I done come, Mars John," said Mink. " Confound your black hide !" exclaimed the man; "if I had my gun I'd shoot a hole spang throo you! Whadder you want to skeer me outn a year's growth for? If you're here, whyn't you sesso befo' you spoke ? " "Kaze I got comp'ny," said Mink. .. The man gave a long whistle, denoting sur prise. " Who've you got?" he asked, almost savagely. "Injun Bill." " Who else ? " "A white boy."

ON THE PLANTATION.

'

' - .'.'

* Well, the great snakes! What sort of

e is you up to ? Who is the white boy ? "

1* He stay on the Turner plantation at de printin'-office," explained Mink.

f You hear that' , don't you ? " said the man to his companion. " And now it'll all be in the

paper."

^Bo sh! " exclai'med Joe. "I don't know you from a side of sole-leather. I got lost

while rabbit-hunting, and came in here out of

the rain."

i

'f He's a peart-talkin* chap," said the man

who wanted to eat a trayful of hot biscuits and ele.vei n pounds of butter. '

L

" He came fum town," said Mink, by way of

explaining joe's "peartness."

'! How long since?" asked one of the men.

" " Two years ago," said Joe.

After a little, one of the men succeeded in i
finding a match, and making a light with the

pine kindlings that one of the two had brought.

In ^ corner Mink found some pieces of dry

wood and the small company soon had a fire

burning. The weather was not cold, but the

fire must have been very agreeable to the white

men, who, as one of them expressed it, was

DESERTERS AND RUNAWAYS.

137

" wringln' wet." These men took advantage of

the first opportunity to examine Joe Maxwell

very closely. They had evidently expected to

find a much more formidable-looking person

than he appeared to be, for one of them re

marked to the other:

" Why, he hain't bigger'n a pound er soap

arter a hard day's washin'."

" Naw ! " said the other. ".I've saw 'im be-

fo'. He's that little rooster that useter be run-

nin' roun' town gittin' in all sorts er devilment.

I reckon he's sorter out er his element here in

the country."

:

" I've seen you, too," said Joe, " I've seen

both of you. I used to see you drilling in the

Hillsborough Rifles. I was at the depot when

the company went off to the war."

The two men looked at each other in a pe

culiar way, and busied themselves trying to dry

their clothes by the fire, standing close to the

flickering flames. They were not handsome

men, and yet they were not ill looking. One

was short and stout, with black hair. He had a

scar under one of his eyes that did not improve

his appearance. But the expression of his face

was pleasant in spite of this defect. The other

138

ON THE PLANTATION.

was thin, tall, and stoop-shouldered. His beard

was scanty and red, and his upper teeth pro-

i



'

'

truded to such an extent that when his face was

in jrepose they were exposed to view. But

there was a humorous twinkle in his eyes that

fouhd an echo in his talk. Both men were

growing gray. The dark man was Jim Wim-

berty, the other John Pruitt, and both had evi

dently seen hard times. Soldier-fashion, they

made seats for themselves by sticking the ends

of loose boards through the cracks, and allow

ing the other ends to rest on the floor. Thus

thejr could sit or lie at full length as they chose.

Joe fixed a seat for himself in the same way,

i



"-

while Mink and Injun Bill sat on the floor on

each side of the fireplace.

"What do you call those here fellers," asked

Mr. Pruitt, lighting his pipe with a splinter, and

turning to Joe--"these here fellers what jines

inter the army an' then comes home arter

awhile without lief or license ? "

'i Deserters," replied Joe, simply.

'"' So fur, so good," said Mr. Pruitt. " Now,

then, what do you call the fellers what jines

Intel" the army arter they'er been told that

their families'll be took keer of an* provided

DESERTERS AND RUNAWAYS.

139

fer by the rich folks at home ; an' then, arter

they'er been in a right smart whet, they gits word that their wives an* children is a lookin'

starvation in the face, an' stedder gittin* better it gets wuss, an' bimeby they breaks loose an*

comes home ? Now what sort er fellers do you

call them? Hold on! " exclaimed Mr. Pruitt, as

Joe was about to reply. " Wait! They hain't

got no money an' no niggers; they hain't got

nothin' but a little piece er lan'. They goes off

expectin' their wives'll be took keer of, an'

they comes home an' fines 'em in the last

stages. What sorter fellers do you call them ? " " Well," Joe replied, " I've never heard of

such a thing before."



" No," said Mr. Pruitt, " an' I'm mighty sorry

you've heard about it now. It ain't a purty

tale."

"Who are the men?" Joe asked.

"Yours, respectfully, John Pruitt an' Jeems

Wimberly, Ashbank deestrict, Hillsborough Post-Office, State of Georgia," said.Mr. Pruitt,

solemnly.

.

Joe had heard it hinted and rumored that

in some cases, especially where they lived re mote from the relief committees, the families

14O

ON THE PLANTATION.

of the soldiers were not so well provided for as they had a right to expect. He had even set up 'some editorials in The Countryman which hinted that there was suffering among the soldiers' wives and children; but he never dreamed that it was serious enough to create discontent among the soldiers. The story that Mr. Pruitt and his companion told amazed Joe Makwell, but it need not be repeated here in detail. It amounted to this, that the two sol diers had deserted because their wives and xhildren were suffering for food and clothing, and now they were fugitives.

CHAPTER X.

THE STORY-TELLERS.



.

THE strange company was silent for a long

time. Mr. Pruitt and Mr. Wimberly sat with

their elbows on their knees and their faces in

their hands, and gazed into the fireplace, while

the two negroes, true to their nature, began to

nod as the talking ceased. The silence at last

became painful to Joe Maxwell.

" Mink," he said, " suppose you should hear

somebody coming, what would you do ? "

."I wuz des worryin' 'bout dat 'while ago,"

replied the stalwart negro, passing his hand

swiftly across his face. "I 'speck I'd be like

de ole sheep you hear talk about in de tale."

" What was the tale ? " asked Joe.

" Oh, 'tain't no long tale," said Mink. " One

time dey wuz er ole sheep what had two chil-

luns. She call um up one day an' tell um dat

dey better keep a sharp lookout whiles dey er

142

ON -THE PLANTATION.

eatin, kaze ef dey don't sumpin' n'er sholy gwine git tim. Dey say \ Yessum,' an' dey went ter froKckin* up an* down de fiel'. Bimeby dey come runnin' back, an* 'low :
" Oh, mammy, yon's a man ! Mus' we-all run?'

" Dey went ter frolickin' up an* down de fieT."
-!
. "yle mammy sheep, she 'low: *No! Go long and play.'
" Atter while, dey come runnin' back an' low: f. Mammy, mammy! yon's a hoss ! Mus' we-all run?'
"CJ)le mammy sheep 'low: ' 'G'way frum here! Go on an* play.'

THE STORY-TELLERS.

143

" Bimeby dey come runiiin' back. ' Mammy,

mammy ! yon's a cow ! Mus' we-all run?'

" Ole mammy sheep say: * Go on an' play,

an'quit yo'behavishness!'

" Atter while dey come runnin' back. ' Mam

my ! oh, mammy! yon's a dog! Mus' we-all

run?' .

.

"* Yes, yes! Run, chillun, run !'

"Dat de way wid me," said Mink. " Ef I

wuz ter hear some un comin' I wouldn't know

whedder ter set still an' nod, or whedder ter

break an' run."

" That hain't much of a tale," remarked Mr.

Pruitt, "but ther's a mighty heap er sense in

it, shore."

" Shoo!" exclaimed Mink, " dat ain't no tale.

You oughter hear dish yer Injun Bill tell um.

He kin set up an' spit um out all night long.

--Bill," said he, turning to his companion, *' tell

um dat un 'bout how de mountains come 'bout."

"Oh,-I can't tell de tale," said Injun Bill, marking nervously in the floor with a splinter. " Ef I could tell dem like my daddy, deii dat 'ud sorter be like sumpin'. Me an' my mammy come frum Norf Ca'liny. My daddy wuz Injun,

'$? ^

144

ON THE PLANTATION.

Ef you could hear him tell dem tales, he'd make you open yo' eyes."
" How wuz de mountains made, Bill ? "asked Mink, after a pause.
" I wish I could tell it like my daddy," said Bill, j" He wuz Cher'kee Injun, an' he know all 'bout it, kaze he say de Injuns wuz here long time fo' de white folks wuz, let 'lone de niggers.
" Well, one time dey wuz a great big flood. Hit rain so hard an' it rain so long dat it fair kiwer de face er de yeth. Dey wuz lots mo' water ilan what dey is in our kind er freshets, an* it ot so atter while dat de folks had ter find some place whar dey kin stay, kaze ef dey don't <}ey all be drownded, dem an* de creeturs, tbo.
"Well, one day de big Injun man call dem all up, an* say dey got ter move. So dey tuck der cloze an* der pots an' der pans an' foller long atter de big Injun, an* de creeters dey come 'long, too. Dey march an* dey march, an' bitneby dey come whar dey wuz a big hole in de groun'. Dey march in an* de big Injun he stay bdhine fer stop up de hole so de water can't leak in. 'Twant long *fo' dey know dey

THE STORY-TELLERS.

145

wuz in de middle er de woiT, deep'down under

de groun', an' dey had plenty room. Dey built

der fires an' cook der vittles des same ez ef

dey'd a been on top er de grouri'.

" Dey stayed in dar I dunner how long, an'

bimeby dey got tired er stayin' in dar, an' dey

want ter come out. Some un urn went pilfer

hunt fer de hole whar dey come in at, but dey

can't fine it, an' den dey say dey skeered dey

ain't never gwine ter git out. But de big Injun

say dey plenty time, kaze fo' dey go out dey

got ter know whedder de rain done stop. He

say ef de smoke kin git out dey kin git out.

Den dey ax 'im how he gwine fine out 'bout

de rain, an' he say he gwine sen' some er de

creeturs fer fine de hole whar de smoke go out,

an' see 'bout de rain.

^

.

" Den de big Injun he went off by hisse'f an'

study an' study how he gwine fine de hole whar

de smoke go out. He sent de dog--de dog

can't fine it. He sent de coon--de coon can't

fine it. He sent de rabbit--de rabbit can't fine

it. Den he went off by hisse'f an'study some

mo', an* 'bout dat time de buzzud come 'long an'

he ax de big Injun what make him look so lone

some. Den de b-ig,I nju'n'tell de buVzzud 'bout

146

ON THE PLANTATION.

De txufeod ax de big Injun what make him look so lonesome."

THE STORY-TELLERS.
'im tryin' fer fine de hole whar de smoke went fru. De buzzud he low dat him an' his ole 'oman kin fine it, an' den de big Injun tuck an' sent um off.
"Dey riz up, de buzzuds did, an' flewd de way de smoke went. Dey flewd up an* dey flewd down, an' dey flewd all 'roun' an' 'roun,' but dey ain't seed no hole whar de smoke go out at. Den dey come back, an' dis make de big Injun feel mo' lonesomer dan befo'. He Study an' he study, un' bimeby he sent um out agin, an' tole um ter go high ez dey kin an' spy out de hole.
" So dey riz an' flewd up agin, an' dis time dey flewd right agin de top er de yeth,, up an' down an' 'roun' an' 'roun'. It bin rainin' so long dat de crust er de yeth wuz done wet plum fru, an' it wuz saft, an' when dey struck agin it dey made de print whar dey bin flyin'. Bimeby, de old man buzzud, he got mad, an' he sail 'roun' twel he git a good start, an' den he plow right long agin de roof. De 61* 'oman buzzud, she done de same, an' bimeby dey fine de hole whar de smoke went out. Dey peeped out, dey did, an' dey seed dat de rain done stop, but it monstus damp outside*!

148

ON THE PLANTATION.

i " Den dey went back an de big Injun feel mighty good kaze dey done fine de hole. After so long a time he giv de word, an dey all marched out fum de inside er de yeth an went back ter whar dey useter live. It tuck urn a mighty long time ter fine de place, kaze when dey went away de lan wuz level, but when dey come back hit wuz full er hills an mountains dat look like great big bumps an long ridges. Dey ax dey sef how come dis, an dey study an*1 study. Bimeby de buzzud, he upn say dat dem wuz de print he lef when him an his ole ornan wuz a-flyin* roun* tryin fer fine de hole whar de smoke went out. De groun wuz saft, an* evey time de buzzuds ud fly agin it deyd make hills an* mountains. , Dat what my daddy sayi," said Injun Bill, d ecisively. " H* e wuz Injun man, an he oughter know ef anybody do."
" What did I tell you ? " exclaimed Mr. Wimberly, who, up to this time, had said nothing. if Mix Injun wi nigger anthey haint no kind
er rigamarole they wont git up."
They all agreed, however, that Injun Bills
story was amusing, and after a while Mink said: fl speck Marse John dar mought match dat
tale ef he wuz ter try right hard."

THE STORY-TELLERS.

149

Mr. Pruitt turned his pocket inside out to get some tobacco-crumbs for his pipe.
" Buddy,'* he remarked, turning to Joe Max well, "did you ever hear tell how the fox gits rider fleas?"
Joe had never heard. "Well," said Mr. Pruitt, " it's this away. When the fox, speshually ef it's one er these here big reds, gits full er fleas, which they er bleedze ter do in hot weather, he puts out an' goes tell he .finds a flock er sheep. Then he runs in amongst 'em, an' runs alobg by the side er one tell he gits a chance ter pull a moufHe er wool out. Then he makes a break fer the creek an' finds him a wash-hole an* wades in. " He don't, ez you may say,, splunge in. He jest wades in, a little bit at a time. Fust he gits in up ter his knees, an* then he goes in deeper an* deeper. But he hain't in no hurry. When the water strikes the fleas, nachally they start fer high-water mark. The fox feels 'em crawl up, an' then he goes in a little deeper. When they crawl up ez high ez his back he goes in furder, an' then they crawl to'rds his head. He gits a
little deeper, an' they crawl out on his nose. 11

ON THE PLANTATION.

he gits deeper, tell they hain't nothin' out

er the water but the pint er his nose.

| "Now all this time he's got that chunk er

wbol In his mouf, an' when the* fleas hain't got

nowhcres else ter go they make fer that. Then

wnen the fleas is all in the wool, the fox drops

it in the water, comes out, shakes hisse'f, ah'

trots off ter do some other devilment/'

"Dat cert'ny is one way fer ter git red er

fleas," exclaimed Mink, laughing heartily. Then

he turned to Injun Bill.

| " Bill, what tale is dat I been hear you tell

s.



/



'bout ole Brer Rabbit an' de overcoat ? Dat

t't no nigger tale."

"Naw!" said Injun Bill, contemptuously.

" t)i at ain't h o nigger ta' le. My daddy tell dat tale, an' he wa'nt no nigger. I wish I could tell

it like I tear him tell it."

"How did it go?" asked Mr. Wimberly.

j" Well," said Injun-Bill, rolling his eyes to-

ward the rafters, " it sorter run dis way, nigh ez

I Inn reckermember: De time wuz when Mr.

Beaver wuz de boss er all de creeturs. He

wa rat de biggest ner de strongest, but he wuz

mighty smart. Fine cloze make fine folks in

idays, an' dat what Mr. Beaver had. Eve'y-

THE STORY-TELLERS.

1$!

body know him by his fine overcoat. He look

slick all de week, an' he mighty perlite--he ain't

never fergit his manners. Mr. Rabbit see all

dis an* it make 'im feel jealous. He dunner how

come Mr. Beaver kin be sech a big man, an* he

study how he gwine make hisse'f populous wid

de yuther creeturs.

,,''

"One time dey all make it up dat dey wuz

gwine ter have a big meetin', an' so dey -gun

ter fix up. De word went 'roun' an' all de

creeturs make ready ter come. Mr. Beaver he

live up in de mountains, an' it wuz lots mo' dan

a day's journey fum his house ter de place whar

de creeturs gwine ter hoi' der big meetin'. But

he waz bleedze ter be dar, kaze he de head man.

Ole Mr. Rabbit 'low ter hisse'f dat sumpin' got

ter be done, an' dat mighty quick, an' so he put

out fer Mr. Beaver house. Mr. Rabbit sho is a

soon mover, mon, an' he git dar in little er no

time. He say dey all so 'fraid Mr. Beaver ain't

comin' ter de meetin' dat dey sont 'im atter 'im,

an' he help Mr. Beaver .pack his kyarpet-bag,

an' went on back wid 'im fer comp'ny.

"Mr. Beaver can't git 'long ez peart ez Mr.

Rabbit, kaze he so fat an' chunky, yit he don't

lose no time; he des keep gwine fum sunup

If*

ON THE PLANTATION.

ter suhdown. Des fo dark dey come ter whar dey wuz a river, an* Mr. Rabbit, he low dey better camp but on de bank, an git soon start in de mbrnin. So dey built up a fier, an cook der supper, an* bout de time dey wuz gittin ready ter gel ter bed Mr. Rabbit low:
"Brer Beaver, I mighty feared we gwine ter have trouble dis night I Mr. Beaver say, How comes so, Brer Rabbit ? .
-. Rabbit low: Dis country what we er in is called Rainin Hot Embers, an I dont like
name. Dat de reason I wanter stop water/ Beaver ax, What de name er goodgwine do, Brer Rabbit ? " Mr. Rabbit sorter scratch his head an* say, * Oh, we des got ter put up wid it, an* do de bes* \fe kin/ Den he sorter study, an low: * I specie you better pull off dat fine overcoat er yourri, Brer Beaver, an* hang it up in de tree
dar, kr aze. ef de w-uss come ter de wuss, you sholy want ter save dat/
"pen Mr. Beaver tuck off his overcoat an* bang jit up in de tree, an atter while dey lay down fer ter take a hap. Mr. Rabbit he stay
wake but twant long fo Mr. Beaver wuz done

T&E STORY-TELLERS.

1 S3

gone ter sleep an' snorin' right along. He sno' so loud dat Mr. Rabbit laugh ter hisse'f, an* 'low: ' Hej! Ole Brer Beaver pumpin' thunder fer dry wedder, but we gwine ter have some rain, an' it'll be a mighty hot rain, mon.'
" Den Mr. Rabbit raise hisse'f on his elbow an' look at Mr. Beaver. He soun' asleep, an' he keep on a snorin'. Mr. Rabbit got up easy, an' slipped roun' an* got 'im a great big piece er bark, an' den he slip back ter de fier an' run de piece er bark un' de hot embers des like it wuz a shovel. He flung um up in de air, he did, an* holler out:
" l Run fer de water, Brer Beaver! run fer de water! It's a rainin'hot embers! Run, Brer Beaver! run!'
" De hot embers drapped on Mr. Beaver, an* he scuffled 'bout mightily. Time Mr. Rabbit hollered, he flung an'er shower er embers on 'im, an' Mr. Beaver gun one loud squall an' s|>kinged inter de water head over heels. Mr. Rabbit grab de fine overcoat an* run down de bank twel he come ter whar dey wuz a canoe, an' he got in dat an' went cross, an' den he put out ter whar de creeturs gwine ter hoi' der big meetin', Des To'he got dar, he put on de overcoat, an'

~-. '
"'

:-'

154

ON THE PLANTATION.

i

he ain't do it none too soon, nudder, kaze some

tin um bad done got so unpatient 'long er wait-

in* feri Mr. Be-aver dat de"y^ went out on de ro. ad

'

a

little
. -J ,

fer

ter

meet

overcoat wuz lots too big fer Mr. Rab bit, b it it bin seek a long time sence de creeturs

THE STORY-TELLERS.

155

'7 -

had seed Mr. Beaver dat it locfk all right ter dem, an' so dey gallanted Mr. Rabbit ter de meetin'-place same like he wuz big man ez Mr. Beaver. Dey tuck 'im dar an* gallanted 'im up on de flatform, an' sot 'im down in de big cheer, an' made 'im de boss er de meetin'. Mr. Rab

bit 'gun ter speak an' tell um he mighty much 'blige fer all deze favers, an' 'bout dat time Mr.

Fox 'low: " ' Hey! Mr. Beaver done los' his voice! *

" Mr. Rabbit say he can't have no talkin', an*

he kep on wid his speech. Bimeby Mr. Wolf

say: * Hey ! Mr. Beaver bin sick, kaze his cloze

ain't fit ?im.' Mr. Rabbit say he bleeze ter have

order in de 'sembly, an' he go on wid his speech. 'Twan't long 'fo' Mr. Fox jump an' holler out:

"' Hey! Mr. Beaver done bought 'im some

new years!'

" Mr. Rabbit cock up one eye, an* see dat bofe er his long years done come out fum un* de overcoat, an* den he know dat he better.be

gwine. He make er break, he did, an' bounced off'n de flatform, an' start fer de bushes, but

some er de yuther creeturs head 'im off an* kotched 'im, an' den dey tuck 'im an' tried *im,

an' de jedge what sot on 'im say he mus* have

.- ".

156

ON THE PLANTATION.

m."ar!k.o"n*imso he can*t fool um no moV Den dey tuck er sharp flint rock an* split his up per fip; an* dat how de rabbits is got der lip
splk." "Shoo!" said Mink "Dat Injun rabbit.
Niggi er r'abbit would 'a'' fo' oled dem creeturs right straight along, an* he wouldn't V bin cotch, nudder."
"ilira," said Mr. Pruitt to Mr. Wimberly, " woiid it strain you too much ter whirl in an' tell lis a tale ? We wanter show this young un
here that country folks hain't ez no 'count ez . ter be." !" exclaimed Mr. Wimberly, with animation. " I wuz jest a-thinkin* about popped in my min'. It ain't much of a it tickled me might'ly when I fust
hearc it, an* I hain't never fergot it." "* Veil," said Mr. Pruitt, out wi' it. It ain't
/
nigh >edtime, an* ef it wuz we hain't got no beds ter go ter--that is, we hain't got none ter speak

One time," Mr. Wimberly began, smacking

his " there wuz a man what took the idee

that he bad done gone an* larnt ever* blessid

^"^



'

.

ter the sun that thar' wuz ter 1am, and

THE STORY-TELLERS.
it worried him might'ly. He took the idee wi' 'im ever'whar he went. Folks called 'im Ole Man Know-all. He sarched in ever' hole an* cornder arter sump'n that he didn't know, but, hunt whar he would an' when he might, he couldn't fin' it. It looked like he know'd ever'thing ther' wuz an' had been. Nobody couldn't tell 'im nothin' that he didn't know, an' it made 'im feel mighty lonesome. He studied an* studied, an' at last he said ter hisse'f, sezee, that ef thar' wari't nothin' more fer 'im ter larn, he jest might ez well lay down an' die. He said ter hisse'f, sezee, that may be Grandsir Death could larn 'im sumpin. Jesso!
" Well, he went home one night an* built 'im up a big fire an' fixed his pallet an* lay down. 'I won't lock the door/ sezee j ' I'll jist leave it onlatched so Grandsir Death can come in, an' maybe he can larn me sump'n/ Jesso!
". Ole Man itnow-all lay thar on the pallet an* waited. He'd doze a little an* then he'd wake up, an' he rolled an* tossed about tell purty nigh day. He wan't oneasy, so to speak, but he wuz mighty restless. To'rds mornin' he heard some un knock on his door--bam-bam! barn-bam! He

158

ON THE PLANTATION.

't skeered, but he got right weak. His

th got dry, an* a big holler place come in

his itomach. He sez ter hisse'f, sezee, ' Shorely

tha.ti's Gr.and. sir Death at the door/ Then he kiv^ered up his head an' shuck all over. 'Twan't

lon^'fo* the knock come agin :

'* Bim-bim I bim-bim ! bim !

' Ole Man Know-all thought his time wuz

done come, certain an* shore, an' so he hol

lered:

'.. ^'Come in!'

"The door opened, but stedder it's bein'

Grandsir Death it wuz a little nigger boy. Ole

Man) Know-all sez, sezee:

.-"'<' What you want this time er night ?'

"I The little nigger boy sez, sezee, ' Mammy

sent me arter some fier.'

"| Old Man Know-all told 'im ter come in an*

git it. The little nigger boy went in an* started

te'r 'thr e fireplace.
"'They ain't

no

chunk' s

thar,' sez

Ol e

Ma n

KnoW-all. 'Go git a shovel.'

Don't want no shovel/ sez the little

" r* How you gwine ter take it ?' sez Old Man KnoUall.



^.4 / .

THE STORY-TELLERS.
" ' Easy enough/ sez the little nigger. " Ole Man Know-all turned over an* watched 'im. He went ter the h'ath, filled the palm er one hand full er dead ashes, made a little nest in the middle, an' then picked up a fire-coal this way." Suiting the action to the word, Mr. Wimberly picked up a glowing coal of fire, dropped it in the palm of his hand, whirled it around rapidly, and then neatly transferred it to the bowl of his pipe, where it lay glowing. "The little, nigger picked up the coal that way," Mr. Wimberly continued, "an* then he started out. Ole Man Know-all hollered at 'im. " ' Hoi' on !' sezee; ' how you gwine ter. kindle a fire from jest one coal ? ' " ' Easy enough/ sez the little nigger. " Ole Man Know-all jumped up an' fpllered 'im, an' when the little nigger co.me ter his mammy's house he got two fat pine splinters, picked up the coal er fire wi' 'em jest ez ef they'd V been tongs, whirled it once-t er twice-t aroun'his head, an'thar wuz the blaze. "-'Well,' sez Ole Man Know-alt, ' I'm mighty glad Graridsir Death gimme the go-by last night, 'cause I've larnt sump'n new. An' I

ON THE PLANTATION.

reckon, ef I keep my eyes open, I can larn lots

more. JessoP

. "Ive saw folks that thought they knowd it

all, said Mr. Pruitt, "an it most inginerlly

happens that all what they know wouldnt make

the limn fer a bugs nest."

There was some further talk, in which Joe

Maxwell joined, or thought he did, and then

the cabin and all its occupants seemed to fade

before his eyes. He seemed, as in a dream, to

heIar.Mr. Pruitt say that he wished to the Lord that his little boy was as health} and as well fed

as tne boy from town, and Joe thought he heard

the deserter telling his companions of the des

perate condition in which he found his wife and

two little children, who were living in a house

remote from any settlement. The lad, much i.n terI ested i.n this recital, opened his eyes to ask

Mr. Pruitt some of the particulars, and, lo! it

was morning. The fire was out, and the de

serters and negroes had disappeared. In the

east the sky glowed with the promise of the sun,

.i

.





the t>irds were singing in the old apple-trees,

and ihe cows were lowing. In the distance Joe

coulq hear the plow-hands singing as they rode

to their tasks, and, when the sound of their

THE STORY-TELLERS.
song had died away, he thought he could hear, ever so faintly, the voice of Harbert calling his hogs.
Mink had told Joe where he was, and how to get home, and he had no difficulty in finding his way.

CHAPTER XI.

THE RELIEF COMMITTEE.

.

"

.



'

"* .

*

JpE MAXWELL was very tired the day after

his experience in the cabin with the deserters

and the runaways, but he was not too tired to

joyfully accept an invitation to visit Hills-

borough with the editor of The Countryman.

For months the town had been practically in

a state of siege. As the war progressed, it had

been made a hospital station. The old temperance 1hall and m any of the other buildings in the

town had been fitted up for the accommodation

-!'

'

"

of the sick and wounded. There were also

many refugees in Hillsborough from Tennessee

and north Georgia. While the town was



:

crowded, the small-pox

*
broke out,

and

for

a

month or more the country people were pre

vented from going there. Guards were placed

on al the roads leading into the town; but this

was iot necessary, for the country people were

;'

THE RELIEF COMMITTEE.

163

not anxious to visit the place when they learned

of the small-pox, Hillsborough was placed un

der martial law, and a provost-marshal given

charge of affairs. This was necessary, not only

to control the small-pox, but to control the con

valescing soldiers, among whom were some

very rough characters. . '

..

Joe had stayed away so long that the town

seemed to be new to him. The playground in

front of the old school-house was full of dingy

hospital huts; the stores with which he had

been familiar had been put to new and strange

uses; and there were strange faces everywhere.

Squads of soldiers were marching briskly

here and there; men with crutches at their

sides, or bandages on their heads, or with their

arms in slings, were sunning themselves on

every corner. Everything was strange. Even

the old china-trees under which Joe had played

hundreds of times had an unfamiliar look.

Dazed and confused, the lad sat down on one

of the long benches that were placed along the

wall in front of some of the stores. The bench

was tilted back against the wall, and one end of

it was occupied by two men who were engaged

in earnest conversation. Joe paid little atten-

64

ON THE PLANTATION.

t^on to them at first, but a word or two that he i
Hj eard caused him t. o observe them more closely. One of them was Mr. Deometari, the Greek

dxile and lawyer; the other was a man whom

i

'



Joe did not know. He noticed that, although

Mr. Deometari wore a faded and shabby uni

form, his linen was spotless. His cuffs and

shirt-bosom shone in the sun, and the setting

df a heavy ring ori his chubby finger sparkled

like a star. " He has forgotten me/ Joe thought,

and he sat there determined not to make him

self known, although he and Mr. Deometari

had been great friends before the lad left Hills-

borough.

" Theres another thing Im troubled about,"

Joe heard Mr. Deometari say to his companion.

" Pruitt has come home."

" Whats the matter with him ?" asked the

other.

" Deserted !" exclaimed Mr. Deometari.

|. "Well," said the other, "its a big risk for a

grown man to take. If hes caught, hell have

tb pay the penalty."

"No!" exclaimed Mr. Deometari, bringing

hjs fist down on his broad knee. "Hell be

caught, but he wont pay the penalty."

THE RELIEF COMMITTEE.

165

" Why, what do you mean, Deo ? " asked his

companion.

.

" Don't you know him ?" exclaimed Mr.

Deometari. "He belongs to the Relief Com

mittee ! "

"Phew!" whistled the other, raising both,

his hands in the air, and letting them fall again.

" Don't you know him ? " Deometari went

on, with increasing earnestness. " He's the

man that shot the otter."

Again Mr. Deometari's companion gave a

long whistle of astonishment. " Jack Pruitt ? "

he asked.

.

" The identical man," said Deometari. "And

do you know who this provost-marshal here is

--this Captain Johnson ? "

"Oh, yes," said the other; "he's the chap

that stole the last dust of meal we had been

saving to make soup for poor Tom Henderson."

"And what happened then?" inquired Mr.

Deometari, as if trying to refresh his own mem

ory instead of that of his companion. " Didn't

Jack Pruitt give him a whipping ?"*.

" Why, bless my life ! " exclaimed the other.

" What am I thinking about ? Why, of course

he did!" Saying this, Mr. Deometari's com12

V--

ON THE PLANTATION.
panion rose to his feet, and caught sight of Joe Maxwell as he did so. Instantly he laid his hand ori Mr. Deometaris shoulder and remarked :
! " It is .fine weather for birds and boys."

Captain Johnson.

Joe was not at all disconcerted. He was

!



not eavesdropping, though he was very much

interested in what he had heard. The way to

interest a boy thoroughly is to puzzle him, and

Joe was puzzled.

1*1 saw Mr. Pruitt last night," he remarked,

i

~

"

and then, as his old friend turned, he said :

THE RELIEF .COMMITTEE,

167

" How do you do, Mr. Deo? You haven't for

gotten me, have you ? "

Joe advanced and offered his hand. As Mr.

Deometari took it, the frown cleared away from

his face.

.

" Why, my dear boy ! " he exclaimed, pull

ing the lad toward him and giving him a tre

mendous hugging, " I am delighted to see you !

I could count on my ten fingers the people who

are left to call me Deo. And if I counted,

my boy, you may be sure I'd call your name

long before I got to my little finger. Why,

I'm proud of you, my boy! They tell me

you write the little paragraphs in the paper

credited to 'The Countryman's Devil'? Not

all of them! Ah, well! it is honor enough

if you only write some of them. Forget you,

indeed!"

Mr. Deometari's greeting was not only cor

dial but affectionate, and the sincerity that

shone in his face and echoed in. his words

brought tears to Joe Maxwell's eyes.

" Blandford," said Mr. Deometari, " you

ought to know this boy. Don't you remember

Joe Maxwell?"

"Why, yes!" said Mr. Blandford, showing

i68

ON THE PLANTATION.

his white teeth and fixing his big black eyes on Joe. " He used to fight shy of me, but I rem6mber him very well. He used to stand at the back of my chair and give me luck when I played draughts."
Mr. Blandford had changed greatly since Joe had seen him last. His black hair, which once fell over his shoulders in glossy curls, was now gray, and the curls were shorn away. The shoulders that were once straight and stalwart were slightly stooped. Of the gay and gallant young man whom Joe Maxwell had known as Archie Blandford nothing remained unchanged except his brilliant eyes and his white teeth. Mr. Blandford had, in fact, seen hafd service. He had been desperately shot in One of the battles, and had lain for months in a Richmond hospital. He was now, as he said, just beginning to feel his oats again.
" Come!" said Mr. Deometari, " we must go to my room. It is the same old room, in the same old tavern/ he remarked.
{When the two men and Joe Maxwell reached the room, which was one of the series opening on the long veranda of the old tavern, Mr. Deo metari carefully closed the door, although the

THE RELIEF COMMITTEE.

169

weather was pleasant enough--it was the early

fall of 1864.

-...-.' ;

"Now, then," said he, drawing his chair

in front of Joe, and placing his hands on his

knees, "I heard you mention a name out

yonder when you first spoke to me. What

was it?"

" Pruitt," said Joe.

.

.

" Precisely so," said Mr. Deometari, smiling

in a satisfied way. " John Pruitt. Now, what

did you say about John Pruitt? "

" Late of said county, deceased," dryly re

marked Mr. Blandford, quoting from the form

of a legal advertisement.

" I said I saw him last night," said Joe, and

then he went on to explain the circumstances.

"Very good! and now what did you hear

me say about Pruitt?"

.''

" You said he would be caught and not pun

ished because he belonged to the Relief Com

mittee."

"Hear that!" exclaimed Mr. Deometari.

" If any but these friendly ears had heard all

that, we'd have been put on Johnson's black list,

and maybe we'd have been transferred from the

black list to the guard-house. Now, then," con-

170

ON THE PLANTATION.

tiriued Mr. Deometari, "you don't know any

thing about the Relief Committee, of course, and

as you might be inquiring around about it, and

asking what John Pruitt, the deserter, has to do

with the Relief Committee, I'll tell you. But,

my dear boy, you must remember this: It's not a

matter to be joked about or talked of anywhere

outside of this room. Now, don't forget. It

isn't much of a secret; it is simply a piece of

business that concerns only a few people. Do

you remember reading or hearing about the re

treat from Laurel Hill ? " asked Mr. Deometari,

f



moving his chair back and unwinding the stem

of his Turkish pipe. " That was in the early

part of the war, and it will never cut much of a

figure in history, but some of those who were in

that retreat will never forget it. In the con

fusion of getting away a little squad of us, be-

loriging mostly to the First Georgia Regiment,

were cut off from the main body. When we

halted to get our bearings there were not more tha! n a ' dozen of u' s."

|"Seventeen, all told," remarked Mr. Bland-

ford.

!"Yes," said Mr. Deometari, " seventeen.

We were worse than lost. We were on the

THE RELIEF COMMITTEE.
mountains in a strange country i Behind us was the enemy and before us was a forest of laurel that stretched away as far as the eye could reach. To the right or to the left was the same uncertainty. We could hear nothing of the rest of the command. To fire a gun was to invite capture, and there was nothing for us to do but push ahead through the scrubby growth."
" The commissary was absent on a furlough," remarked Mr. Blandford.
" Yes," said Mr. Deometari, laughing.. " The commissary was missing, and rations were scanty. Some of the men had none at all. Some had a little hard-tack, and others had a handful or so of meal. Though the weather was bitter cold, we built no fire the first night, for fear of attracting the attention of the enemy. The next day and the next we struggled on. We saved our rations the best we could, but they gave Out after a while, and there was noth ing left but a little meal which John Pruitt was saving up for Tom Henderson, who was ill and weak with fever. Every day, when we'd stop to breathe awhile, Pruitt would make Henderson a little cupful of gruel, while the rest of us ate

ON THE PLANTATION.
corh, or roots, or chewed the inside bark of the trees."
f'And nobody begrudged Tom his gruel," said Mr. Blandford, "though I'll swear the
..-'*,.*
sight of it gave me the all-overs." *' Oh, yes!" exclaimed Mr. Debmetari.
" Somebody did begrudge Tom the gruel. One night this Captain Johnson, who is lord ing it around here now, thought Pruitt and the rest of us were asleep, and he made an effort to steal the little meal that was left. Well, Pruitt was very wide awake, and he caught Johnson and gave him a tremendous flogjging; but the villain had already got into the haversack, and in the struggle the meal was^ spilled."
Mr. Deometari coiled the stem of his pipe around his neck, and blew a great cloud of smcike toward the ceiling.
'\. But what about the Relief Committee, Mr. DeO?" inquired Joe.
^ Why, to be sure! A'nice story-teller am I!" exclaimed Mr. Deometari. " I had forgot ten the Relief Committee entirely. Well, we weiit forward, growing weaker and weaker every day, until finally we came to a ravine."

THE RELIEF COMMITTEE.

"173

" It was a gorge," observed Mr. Blandford, stretching himself out on Mr. Deometari's bed, "and a deep one too."
" Yes, a gorge," said Mr. Deometari. " When we reached that gorge we were in. a famished

Some of the men dropped on the ground and declared that they would go no farther.
condition. Not a bird could be seen except crows and buzzards. The crows would have made good eating, no doubt, but they were

174

ON THE PLANTATION.

very shy. We had lived in the hope of find ing a hog, or a sheep, or a cow, but not a sign of i four-footed creature did we see. I don't know how it was, but that gorge seamed-to stretch across our path like the G u of De spair. Some of the men dropped on the ground and declared that they would go no farther. Thdy said they had no desire to live; they were as viire'ak and as f'o. olish as children. Of the seventeen men in the squad, there were but five wh6 had any hope, any spunk, or any spirit-- Blandford there, Pruitt, Henderson, this Captain Johnson, and myself.*'
<* You ought to put yourself first," said Mr. Blandford. "You were as fat as a pig all the time, and as full of life as a grasshopper in

fI Th'is' ravine or gorge," continued ' Mr. Deometari, paying no attention to the inter ruption, " was our salvation. Mr. Blandford and Pruitt explored it for a little distance, and thejjr found a little stream of water running at the bottom. It was what you call a branch. -W. .hi en they came bac. k- th. ere was considerable disagreement among the men. The poor creat ures, weak and irritable from hunger, had lost

THE RELIEF COMMITTEE.

all hope, and would listen to no argument that

didn't suit their whims. There was this ques

tion to settle: .Should we cross the gorge and

continue in the course we had been going, or

should we follow the gorge? It was a very

serious question. We had not the slightest

idea where we were. We had been wandering

about in the mountains for eight days, and if

we were going to get out at all it was necessary

to be in a hurry about it.

"Then there was another question. If the *

gorge was to be followed, which way should we

go? Should we follow the running water or

should we go the other way? . Blandford and

Pruitt had already made up their minds to fol

low the running water, and of course I was

going with them."

..

" That's because it was down hill," remarked

Mr. Blandford, laughing. ".Deo always said his

legs were never made for going up hill."

"We had a great discussion. My dear boy,

if you want to see how peevish and ill-natured

and idiotic a grown man can be, just starve

him for a matter of eight or nine days. Some

wanted to go one way and some wanted to go

another, while others wanted to stay where

176

ON THE PLANTATION,

thejr were. Actually, Blandford and I had to

cut hickories and pretend that we were going

to flog the men who wanted to stay there and

die, and when we got them on their feet we had

to qrive them along like a drove of sheep, while

Pruitt led the way.

" Pruitt's idea was that the running water

led somewhere. This may seem to be a very

simple matter now, but in our weak and con-

fuse^d condition it was a very fortunate thing

that he had the idea and stuck to it, We found

but afterward that if we had continued on the

course we had been going, or if we had followed

the gorge in the other direction, we would have

buried ourselves in a wilderness more than a

hundred miles in extent.

_. . t ; .

;

''' The next day a couple of hawks and two

jay-birds were shot, and, though they made

small rations for seventeen men, yet they were

refreshing, and the very sight of them made us

feel better. The walls of the gorge grew wider

apart, and the branch became larger as we fol-

lo^ed it The third day after we had changed

'o"u!r^'course '"P'ruit't,who w' as a head' , suddenly paused and lifted his hand. Some of the men

were so weak that they swayed from side to

THE RELIEF COMMITTEE.

side as they halted. The sight of them was

pitiful. We soon saw what had attracted Pru-

itt's attention. On the rocks, aboVe a pool of

water, an otter lay sunning himself. He was as

fat as butter. We stood speechless a moment

and then sank to the ground. There was no

fear that the otter could hear our voices, for the

. branch, which had now grown into a creek, fell

noisily into the pool. If he had heard us

--if he had slipped off the rocks and disap

peared--" Mr. Deometari paused and looked

into his pipe.

" Great heavens, Deo !" exclaimed Mr.

Bland ford, jumping up from the bed. "I'll

never forget that as long as I live ! I never had

such feelings before, and I've never had such

since."

'

" Yes," continued Mr. Deometari, " it was an

awful moment. Each man knew that we must

have the otter, but how could we get him ?

He must be shot, but who could shoot him?

Who would have nerve enough to put the ball

in the right spot? The man who held the gun

would know how much depended on him; he

would be too excited to shoot straight. I

looked at the men, and most of them were

178

ON THE PLANTATION.

trembling.* Those who were not trembling

we as white as a sheet with excitement. I

looked at Pruitt, and he was standing up, watch

ing Ithe otter, and whistling a little jig under

his breath. So I said to him, as quietly as I

cou lid- :

.

"'Take your gun, man, and give it to him.

You can't miss. He's as big as a barn-door.'

"[.Pru'"itt dr..opped on one knee, put a fresh cappn his gun, shook his hand loose from his

sleeve, leveled his piece, and said, ' Pray for it,

boy4 1 ' Then he fired. He was so weak that

the gun kicked him over. When I looked at

the otter it seemed that the creature had never

moved, but presently I saw a leg quivering, and

then .we rushed forward as fast as we could, the

happiest lot of men you ever saw on this earth.

The1 otter was shot through the head. The

men were so ravenous they acted like maniacs.

It was all that Blandford and Pruitt and I

could do to keep them from falling on the otter

with their knives and eating it raw, hide and

all.

".- 'But it saved us," Mr. Deometari went on,

"and .we had something to spare. The next

day we met with a farmer hunting his stray

THE RELIEF COMMITTEE.

179

" Pray for it, boys 1"

i8o

ON THE PLANTATION.

jsheep, and we soon got back to the army. FI*o u r o* f * usf'ormed the Relief Committee before \ re parted. Blandford, Pruitt, Tom Henderson, and myself--the men who had never lost hope --promised each other, and shook hands on it, tiiat whenever one got in trouble the others
>
yrould help him out without any questions. I " Now, it isn't necessary to ask any questions
a-!b' o'u"t P'ruitt.' He d' eserted because' his family yere in a starving condition."
"Yes," said Mr. Blandford, bringing his hieavy jaws together with a snap, "arid I believe in my S9ul that Johnson has kept food and rcllothes away from them!"
" I know he has," said Mr. Deometari, calm ly. " Tom Henderson is one of Johnson's clerks, and he keeps the run of things. He is to meet -ils to-night, and then you'll see a man who has .been blazing mad for three months.--Now, my \boy," continued Mr. Deometari, " forget all about this. You are too young to be troubled with such things. We're just watching to see how Captain Johnson proposes to nay off the sIcor-e ;he owes Pruitt..S.hould you chance to
see John, just tell him that the Relief Commit tee has taken charge of Hillsborough for a few

THE RELIEF COMMITTEE.

181

weeks. Another thing," said Mr. Deometari,

laying his hand kindly on the boy's, shoulder,

" if you should be sent for some day or some

night, just drop everything and come with the

messenger. A bright chap like you is never

too small to do good."

,

The two men shook hands with Joe, and Mr.

Blandford gravely took off his hat when he

bade the boy good-by.

13

CHAPTER XII.
A GEORGIA FOX-HUNT.
FOR a few days Joe Maxwell forgot all about Mr. Deometari, Mr. Blandford, and Mr. Pruitt. There was distinguished company visiting the editor of The Countryman---a young lady from Virginia, Miss Nellie Carter, and her mother, and some young officers at home on furlough. One of these young officers, a kinsman of the editor, brought his pack of fox-hounds, and arrangements were made for a grand fox-hunt. The plantation seemed to arouse itself to please the visitors. The negroes around the house piit on their Sunday clothes and went hurrying about their duties, as if to show themselves at their best.
Joe was very glad when the editor told him that he was to go with the fox-hunters and act as master of ceremonies. Fox-hunting was a sport of which he was very fond, for it seemed to'combine all the elements of health and pleas-

A GEORGIA FOX-HUNT.

183

ure in outdoor life. Shortly after Joe went to the plantation the editor of The Countryman had brought from Hillsborough a hound puppy, which had been sent him'by"a Mr. Birdsong-. This Mr. Birdsong was a celebrated breeder of fox-hounds, having at one time the only pack south of Virginia that could catch a red fox. He was a great admirer of the editor of The Countryman, and he sent him the dog as a gift. In his letter Mr. Birdsong wrote that the puppy had been raised under a gourd-vine, and so the editor called him Jonah. Joe Maxwell thought the name was a very good one, but it turned out that the dog was very much better than his name. The editor gave the dog to Joe, who took great pains in training him. Before Jonah was six months old he had learned to trail a foxskin, and by the time he was a year old hardly a morning passed that Joe did not drag the skin for the pleasure of seeing Jonah trail it. He developed great speed and powers, of scent, and he was not more than two years old before he had run down and caught a red fox, unaided and alone. Naturally, Joe was very proud of Jonah, and he was glad of an opportunity to show off the dog's hunting qualities. ,

184

ON THE PLANTATION.

In training Jonah, Joe had also unwittingly

tr\ ained an o ld fox tha.t.-ma-d.e his home on the plantation. The fox came to be well known to

eVery hunter in the county. He was old, and

tough, and* sly. He had" been pursued so often

'tnat if he heard a dog bark in the early morn

ing hours, or a horn blow, he was up and away.

.''_I

'

'

'

.

The negroes called him " Old Sandy," and this

wks the name he came to be known by. Jonah

wnen a puppy had trailed Old Sandy many

a time, and Joe knew all his tricks and turn

ings. * He decided that it would be well to give

the young officer's pack some exercise with this

ciinning old fox.

ii All the arrangeme- nts for the hunt we. re ma. de bj* the editor. Joe Maxwell was to escort Miss

Nellie Carter, who, although a Virginian and a

good-horsewoman, had never ridden across the

country after a fox. The lad was to manage

so ! th'at Miss Carter should see at least as much of the hunt as the young men who were to fol

low the hounds, while Harbert was to gfo along

to ! pull down and put up the fences. To Joe

thisi w. as a n ew and comica l feature of fox-hunting,.'but the editor said that this would be safer

for Miss Carter.

A GEORGIA FOX-HUNT.

185

When the morning of the hunt arrived, Joe was ready before any of the guests, as he had intended to be. He wanted to see to every thing, much to Harbert's amusement. Like all boys, he was excited and enthusiastic, and he was very anxious to see the hunt go off success fully. Finally, when all had had a cup of coffee, they mounted their horses and were ready to go.
" Now, then," said Joe, feeling a little awk ward and embarrassed, as he knevy that Miss Nellie Carter was looking and listening, "there
must be no horn-blowing until after the hunt is over. Of course, you can blow if you want to," Joe went on, thinking he had heard one of the young men laugh, " but we won't have much of a hunt. We are going after Old Sandy this morning, and he doesn't like to hear a horn at all. If we can keep the dogs from barking until we get to the field, so much the better."
" You must pay attention," said Miss Carter, as some of the young men were beginning to make sarcastic suggestions. " I want to see a real fox-hunt, and I'm sure it will be.better to follow Mr. MaxwelFs advice."

ON THE PLANTATION.

Joe blushed to here his name pronounced

sd sweetly, but in the^dim twilight of morning

his embarrassment could not be seen.

I " Are your dogs all here, sir? " he asked the

t





y01 ung man w~ho h-ad brought his hounds. "I x

have counted seven, and mine makes eight."

j " Is yours a rabbit-dog ? " the young man

asked.

| " Ob, he's very good for rabbits," replied

Joe, irritated by the question.

"Then hadn't we better leave him?" the

young man asked, not unkindly. "He might

give us a good deal of trouble."

" I'll answer for that," said Joe. " If every

body is ready, we'll go."

' iI "You ar.e to be m y escor t, Mr. Maxwell," said Miss Carter, taking her place by Joe's

side, "and I know I shall be well taken care

iThe cavalcade moved off and for a mile fol-
i
the public road. Then it turned into a lanfe and then into a plantation road that led to what was called the "Turner old field," where for three or four years, and perhaps longer, Old Sandy had made his headquarters. By the time the hunters reached the field,

A GEORGIA FOX-HUNT.

I87

which was a mile in extent, and made up

of pasture-land overgrown with broom-sedge,

wild plum-trees, and blackberry-vines, the

dawn had disappeared before the sun. Red

^and yellow clouds mingled together in the

east, and a rosy glow fell across the hills and

woods. As they halted for Harbert to take

down the fence, Joe stole a glance at his com

panion, and as she sat with her lips parted

and the faint reflection of the rosy sky on her

cheeks, he thought he had never seen a pret

tier picture. Jonah seemed to be of the same

opinion, for he stood by the young lady's horse,

looking into her face, and whistled wistfully

through his nose.

" That is your dog, I know !" said Miss Car-

ter. " Why, he's a perfect beauty!/ Poor fel

low!" she exclaimed, stretching her arm out

and filliping her fingers. Jonah gathered him

self together, leaped lightly into the air, and

touched her fair hand with his velvet tongue.

Joe blushed with delight. " Why, he jumped

as high as a man's head ! " she cried. " I know

he will catch the fox."

t:

''

"I think we have stolen a march on Old

Sandy," said Joe, "and if we have, you'll see

185

ON THE PLANTATION.

: 1

- J

. . i



i

a {me race. I hope the other dogs can keep

" Ah," said their owner, " they are Maryland

"My dog," said Joe, proudly, "is a Bird.song."
By this time the hunters had cr >ed the fenice, and the dogs, with the exception of Jonah, were beginning to cast about in the broom-sedge ani brier-patches.
I" I hope Jonah isnt lazy," said Miss Carter, watching the dog as he walked in quiet dignity by the side of her horse.
i" Oh, no," said Joe, " he isnt lazy; but he never gets in a hurry until the time comes."
^The young men tried to tease Joe about Joriah, but the lad only smiled, and Jonah gradu ally worked away from the horses. It was notic^d that he did riot hunt as closely as the other dogs, nor did he nose the ground as care fully. He swept the field in ever-widening cir cles, going in an easy gallop, that was the per fection of grace, and energy, and strength. ^Presently Harbert cried out:
j* Looky yonder, Marse Joe ! Looky yonder at Jonah!"

-^._/ -*.._

A GEORGIA FOX-HUNT.

189

9

'

.

'

>

,

....

All eyes were turned in the direction that

Harbert pointed. The dog was hunting where

the brown sedge was higher than his head, and

he had evidently discovered something, for he

would leap into the air, look around, and drop

back into the sedge, only to go through the

same performance with increasing energy.

" Why don't he give a yelp or two and call

the other dogs to help him ?" exclaimed one of

the young men.

"He's no tattler," said Joe, "and he doesn't

need any help. That fox has either just got up

or he isn't twenty yards away. Just wait! "

The next moment Jonah gave tongue with

thrilling energy, repeated the challenge twice,

and was off, topping the fence like a bird. The

effect on the other dogs was magical; they

rushed to the cry, caught up the red-hot drag,

scrambled over the fence the best they could,

and went away, followed by a cheer from Har

bert that shook the dew from the leaves. The

young men were off, too, and Joe had all he

could do to hold his horse, which was in the

habit of running with the hounds. The sound

of the hunt grew fainter as the dogs ran across

a stretch of meadow-land and through a skirt of

-va

ON THE PLANTATION.
woods to the open country beyond ; and Joe 4nd Miss Carter, accompanied by Harbert, proReeded leisurely to the brow of a hill near by.
" If that is Old Sandy," said Joe, " he will dome across the Bermuda field yonder, turn to tne left, and pass us not very far from, that dead |#ne." Joe was very proud of his knowledge. | "Why, we shall see the best of the hunt!" cried Miss Carter, enthusiastically.
They sat on their horses and listened. Some times the hounds seemed to be coming nearer, and then the)7 would veer off. Finally, their musical voices melted away in the distance. Joe kept his eyes on the Bermuda field, and so did Harbert, while Miss Carter tapped her hojrse. s mane gently. with her ridin^^g-whip, and seemed o be enjoying the scene. They waited a tong time, and Joe was beginning to grow dishdartened, when Harbert suddenly exclaimed :
| " Looky yonder, Marse Joe! what dat gwine cross de Bermuda pastur ? "
| Across the brow of the hill slipped a tawny shadow slipped across and disappeared before Miss Carter could see it.
"Thats Old Sandy," cried Joe; "now watch foil Jonah!"
^y-V .

A GEORGIA FOX-HUNT.
Presently the hounds could be heard again, coming nearer and nearer. Then a larger and a darker shadow sprang out of the woods and swept across the pasture, moving swiftly arid yet with the regularity of machinery. At short intervals a little puff of vapor would rise from this black shadow, and then the clear voice of Jonah would come ringing over the valley. Then the rest of the dogs, a group of shadows, with musical voices, swept across the Bermuda field.
" Oh, how beautiful!" exclaimed Miss Car ter, clapping her little hands.
"Wait," said Joe; "don't make any noise. Hell pass here, and go to the fence yonder, and if he isn't scared to death you'll see a pretty trick."
p
It was a wide circle the fox made after he passed through the Bermuda field. He crossed the little stream that ran through the valley, skirted a pine thicket, ran for a quarter of a mile along a plantation path, and then turned and came down the fallow ground that lay between the creek and the hill where Joe and Miss Car ter, with Harbert, had taken their stand. It was a comparatively level stretch of nearly a
1

ON THE PLANTATION.
lialf-niile. The old corn-rows ran lengthwise the field, and down one of these Old Sandy came in full view of those who were waiting to see him pass. He was running rapidly, but not at fui ll spe ed, and, although his tongue was hanging out, he was not distressed. Reaching the fence two hundred yards away from the specta tors, he clambered lightly to the top, sat down oin a rail and began to lick his fore-paws, stop ping occasionally, with one paw suspended in the atr, to listen to the dogs. In a moment or two more Jonah entered the field at the head of the valley. Old Sandy, carefully balancing himself on the top rail of the fence, walked it for a hun dred yards or more, then gathering himself togther sprang into the air and fell in the broomsedge fully twenty feet away from the fence.
" Oh, I hope the dogs won't catch him !" ex claimed Miss Carter. "He surely deserves to escape!"
'"He got sense like folks," said Harbert. \ ! " He stayed on the fence too long. Just look at Jonah!" cried Joe. ! The hound came down the field like a whirl wind. He was running at least thirty yards to the left of the furrow the fox had followed. ,

A GEORGIA FOX-HUNT.

*93

" Why, he isn't following the track of the fox," exclaimed Miss Carter. " I thought hounds trailed foxes by the scent."
" They do," said Joe, " but Jonah doesn't need to follow it as the other dogs do. The dog that runs with his nose to the ground can never catch a red fox."
" Isn't he beautiful! " cried the young lady, as Jonah rushed past, his head up and his sonorous voice making music in the air. He topped the fence some distance above the point where the fox had left it, lost the trail, and made .a sweeping circle to the right, increasing .his speed as he did,so. Still at fault, he circled widely to the left, picked up the drag a quarter of a mile from the fence, and pushed on more eagerly than ever. The rest of the dogs had overrun the track at the point where the fox had turned to enter the field, but they finally found it again, and went by the spectators in 9 fine style, running together very prettily. At the fence they lost the trail, and for some min utes they were casting about. One of the * "younger dogs wanted to take the back track, but Harbert turned him around, and was about to- set the pack right, when the voice of Jonah

194

ON THE PLANTATION.

was heard again, clear and ringing. Old Sandy,

finding hiniself hard pushed, had dropped flat in

'

.

-

the grass and allowed the hound to overrun him.

Then he doubled, and started back. He gained

but little, but he was still game. Jonah whirled

in a short circle, and was after the fox almost

instantly. Old Sandy seemed to know that this

,w|as his last opportunity. With a marvclous

birst of speed he plunged through the belated

dogs that were hunting for the lost drag, slipped

through the fence, and went back by the spec

tators like a flash. There was a tremendous

outburst of music from the dogs as they sighted

him, and for one brief moment Joe was afraid

that Jonah would be thrown out. The next

instant the dog appeared on the fence, and there

he sighted the fox. It was then that the cour

age and speed of Jonah showed themselves.

Nothing could have stood up before him.

Within a hundred yards he ran into the fox.

Realizing his fate, Old Sandy leaped into the air

with a squall, and the next moment the power

ful jaws of Jonah had closed on him.

.4

-'

'.

-

jBy this time the rest of the hunters had

come in sight. From a distance they witnessed

the catch. They saw the rush that Jonah made;

A GEORGIA FOX-HUNT.

195

they saw Miss Carter and Joe Maxwell gallop ing forward ; they saw the lad leap from his horse and bend over the fox, around which the dogs were jumping and howling; they saw him rise, with hat in hand, and present something to

Old Sandy leaped into the air.
his fair companion ; arid thin they knew that the young lady would ride home with Old Sandy's brush suspended from her saddle.
These hunters came up after a while. Their horses were jaded, and the riders themselves looked unhappy.
"Did you notice which one of my dogs

196

ON THE PLANTATION.

caught the fox?" asked the young man to

whom the pack belonged.

i



" No, sir, I did not/ said Joe.

"I declare that is too funny!" exclaimed Miss

Carter, laughing merrily, and then she went on to

cjescribe the chase as she saw it. The young man

dmiled as though he thought it was all a joke,

and that night he called up Harbert, and offered

I

.

.

him a dollar in Confederate money if he would

tell the truth about the matter. Harbert told

him the truth, but it was so unpleasant that the

young man forgot all about the money, although

a dollar at that time was worth not more than

twelve and a half cents.

Miss Garter seemed to be almost as proud of

Jonahs performance as Joe was, and this, made

the lad feel very proud and happy. But, as thi ey were going home, an incident happened

which, for the time, and for some days after

ward, drove all thoughts of Jonah and fox-hunt-

irig out of his mind. The hunters went back

the way they had come, arid shortly after

they entered the public road they met a small

procession that turned out to be very interest

ing, especially to Joe. First, there was a spring

wagon, drawn by one horse and driven by a

A GEORGIA FOX-HUNT.
negro. On the seat with the negro, and se curely fastened with ropes, was Mr. John Pruitt, the deserter. Behind the negro and Mr. Pruitt were two soldiers with guns, and three soldiers mounted on horses, and armed, acted as escort. The young officers who had been hunting with Joe Maxwell stopped the wagon and made in quiries until they had satisfied their curiosity. Joe would have spoken to Mr. Pruitt, but the latter, by an almost imperceptible movement of the head, seemed to forbid it. His face was as serene as if he had been on dress parade. As the wagon was about to move on, he spoke:
"Ain't that the young chap that works in the printin'-office down by Phoenix schoolhouse?" he asked, nodding his head toward Joe, without looking at him.
" Yes," said one of the young officers. "Well, sir," said Mr. Pruitt, drawing a long breath, " I wish you'd please tell him to be so good ez to git word to my wife down in the Yarberry settlement that I won't have a chance to come home in a week or more, an* she'll hafter do the best she kin tell I git back." Joe said he would be glad to do so. " I 'low'd he would," said Mr. Pruitt, still

ON THE PLANTATION.

speaking to the young officer; "an' I'm mighty

inuch erbliged."

j Then the little procession moved on toward

Milisboroiigh, and the hunters went homeward.

Miss Nellie Carter was very much interested.

! " He doesn't look a bit like a deserter," she

said, impulsively, "and I'm sure there's some

mistake. I don't believe a deserter could hold

his head up."

Joe then made bold to tell her what he had

heard--that Mr. Pruitt and several other sol-

.1



.



dii ers had come ho'me because they heard their

families were suffering for food. Miss Carter

Was very much interested, and wanted to go

With the lad to visit Mrs. Pruitt.

i "But I can't go," said Joe; "there's nobody

to do my work in the printing-office. I'll send

Mrs. Pruitt word to-night by some of the ne-

g^oes/*

I "No, no!" cried Miss Carter, "that will

n^ver do. I'll see my cousin and tell him about

}.''

'

it. You must go to-day, and I'll go with you.

Oh, it mustn't be postponed; you must go this

very afternoon ! Why, what is this little news-

piper you are printing out here in the woods?

Tbe woriian may be suffering."

A GEORGIA FOX-HUNT.

199

Miss Carter saw her cousin, the editor, and lost no time in telling him about Mr. Pruitt and his family. The editor, who was one of the best of men, was so much interested that, instead of sending Joe with the young lady, he went him self, taking in his buggy a stout hamper of pro visions. When they came back, Miss Carter's eyes were red, as if she had been crying, and the editor looked very serious.
" I'm very glad you didn't go," he said to Joe, when Miss Carter had disappeared in the house.
" Was anybody dead ? " asked Joe. " No," replied the editor. " Oh, no; nothing so bad as that. But the woman and her chil dren have been in a terrible fix ! I don't know who is to blame for it, but I shall score the county officers and the Ladies'Aid Society in the next paper. These people have been actu ally in a starving condition, and they look worse than if they had gone through a spell of fever. They are nothing but skin and bones. The main trouble is that they live in such an out-ofthe-way place. The house is a mile from the public road, and hard to find." " I heard," said Joe, "that the provost-mar-

200

ON THE PLANTATION.

sial had something to do with holding back

supplies that ought to have gone to Mr. Pruitt's

family."

.

" How could he ?" asked the editor; and

then he added, quickly: " Why, of course he

cbuld; he is in charge of everything. He is

judge, jury, lawyer, and general dictator. Who

told you about it?"

" I heard it in town," said Joe.

" Well, he's a mean rascal," said the editor.

He bade Joe good-evening, and started in the

house, but half-way up the steps he paused and

called to the lad.

" Here's something I forgot to ask you

about," he said, taking a letter from his pocket.

"tt is a note from Deo about you. What do

JydTu know about Deo ? "
J "About me?" said Joe. ".I used to know r. Deo when I was a little boy."

" Well, you are not such a big boy now,"

said the editor, smiling. " Here is what Deo

sa: -^i s: ' You have a b. o y wor. king in your pr. in ting-office who can make himself very useful in

a ijood cause when the time comes. His name

is Joe Maxwell, and he is a very good friend of

mine. At least he used to be. Before long I

A GEORGIA FOX-HUNT.

2OI

shall send for him, and, whether I send in the

day or in the night, I want you to let him come.

If I were to tell you now what I want with him,

you would laugh and say that all fat men are

foolish. What I want him to do can be done

only by a w oman or a boy. A woman is not to

be thought of, and I know of no boy I can trust

except Maxwell. Just give him your permis

sion beforehand, so that there will be no delay.'

'; jf

Now what do you think about it?" inquired

:

the editor.

" May I go ?" asked Joe.

" That is for you to decide," said the editor.

"I have been knowing Deometaii for nearly

twenty years. He's a good lawyer and a :

i:"

v3S

clever man. But, if you do go, be careful of

yourself. Don't get into any trouble. Tell

Deo that all of us like you out here, and we

don't want any foolishness."

.

CHAPTER XIII.

A NIGHT'S ADVENTURES.

IT was the very next afternoon that Joe

Mai xw. ell received the expected su mmons from Mr. Deometari. The message was brought by a

neiro on a mule, and the mule seemed to be

verj tired, although it had come only nine

miles.

!

'



-

I" I never is see no mule like dis," said the

negro, indignantly, as he took a soiled letter

fromi his hat and handed i. t to *J*oe. " I start from town at two o'tlocks, an* here 'tis mos'

night I got me a stick an* I hit 'er on one

side, an* den she'd shy on t'er side de road,

an* when I hit 'er on dat side, she'd shy on dis

side. She been gwine slonchways de whole

bl'es1sed w' ay." '''"

<

.Mr. Deomatari's note had neither address

nor ! signature, and it was very brief. " Come

at once," it said. "You remember the re-

A NIGHT'S ADVENTURES.

303

treat from Laurel Hill and the otter ? Come

.

in by the jail and around by the Branham

.:
The
place. If some one cries, ' Who goes there aay/It is the Relief/''
Joe turned the qpte over and studied "Who gave you this?" he asked the

2C4

ON THE PLANTATION.

" Dat chuffy-iookin* white man what stay dar

at de tavern. He say you mustn't wait for me,

but cies push on. Dem wuz his ve'y words--

dels-push on."

. Joe had some trouble in getting away. The

edii tor had goneo'ff 'somewhere in the plantatiOn; and Butterfly, the horse he proposed to

ri; qie--' th' e' ' hor'se' he always rode--was in the pasture, and a colt in a plantation pasture is as

big a problem as a hard sum in arithmetic. The

i

.

.

colt is like the answer. It is there somewhere;

.

I

.:

t

but how are you going to get it, and when?

Hairbert solved the problem after a while by

cornering the colt and catching him; but the

sun was nearly down when Joe started, and he

then had nine miles to ride. Harbert, who was

a sort of plantation almanac, said there would

be io moon until after midnight, and a mighty

small] one then; but this made no difference to

Joe Maxwell. Every foot of the road was as
\
familiar to him as it was to old Mr. Wall, the

hatter, who was in the habit of remarking that,

if anybody would bring him a hatful of gravel

from the big road that led to Hillsborough, he'd

"up an* tell 'em right whar they scooped it up

at" Joe not only knew the road well, but he

A NIGHT'S ADVENTURES.

2O$

was well mounted. Butterfly had all the faults

of a colt except fear. He was high-spirited and

nervous, but nothing seemed to frighten him.

When the lad started, Harbert ran on ahead to

unlatch the big plantation gate that opened on

the public road.

"Good-night, Marse Joe," said the negro.

"I wish you mighty well/'

" Good-night, Harbert," responded Joe, as he

went cantering into the darkness.

There was something more than a touch of

fall in the evening air, and Butterfly sprang for

ward eagerly, and chafed at the bit that held

him back. The short, sharp snorts that came

from his quivering nostrils showed the tremen

dous energy he had in reserve, and it was not

until he had gone a mile or more that he settled

down into the long, swift, sweeping gallop that

seemed in the dim light to throw the trees and

fences behind him. At a cross-road Joe heard

the tramp of horses and the jingling of spurs

and bridle-bits, but he never paused, and* it was

not until long afterward he learned that he had ;

come near forming the acquaintance of Wilson's

raiders, who were making their way back to At

lanta.

..

/
ON THE PLANTATION.
By the time the stars had come out, Joe c ouki see the lights of Hillsborough twinkling in t ae distance, and in a short time he had turned into the back street that led by the jail and made way across the town until he reached the square below the tavern. Then he turned to the left, and was soon in front of Mr. Deometari's
.
m. Boy-like, he was secretly sorry that some tinel had not challenged him on the way, so
he could give the countersign. A muffled atting on the edge of the veranda, roused
itself as Joe rode up. [ "Where is Mr. Deometari?" the lad asked. "He in dar," replied the figure. ''Is you
fum de plantation, sah ?

"Den I'm to take yo' boss," the negro said.

"Well, you must be careful with him/' said

lad.

" Dat I will, sub, kaze Marse Deq say he

'----

g\fine pay me, an', 'sides dat, I stays at de

-

liberty stable.*

Joe saw his horse led away, and then he

kn ^cked at Mr. Deometari's door.

Come in I " cried that genial gentleman,

" I'm here, sir," said Joe, as he entered.

A NIGHT'S ADVENTURES.

2O/

" Why, my dear boy! so you are! and glad

I am to see you. And you are on time. I had

just pulled out my watch, and said to myself,

1 In one short quarter of an hour the boy should

be here, and I shall have his supper ready for

him.' And just then you knocked, and here is

my watch still in my hand. My dear boy, sit

down and rest your bones. I feel better."

Mr. Deomatari had supper for Joe and himself

brought to his room, and as he ate he talked.

" You are a clever chap," said Mr. Deome-

tari. " You don't know how clever you are.

No," he went on, seeing a curious smile on Joe's

face--" no,'.I'm not making fun of you. I mean

just what I say. Where is the boy in this town

who would have galloped through the dark on

an errand that he knew nothing of ? I tell you,

he is not to be found. But suppose he could be

found, wouldn't he bother me with ten thousand

questions about what he was expected to do,

and how he was going to do it, and when, and

which, and what not? Now, I want to ask you

why you came?"

m.

" Because you sent for me," said Joe butter

ing another biscuit. " And because I wanted to

find out all about--"

2<>8

ON THE PLANTATION.

" All about what? "asked Mr. Deometari. About Mr. Pruitt, and--everything." "Well," said Mr. Deometari, "I won't tell you precisely why I sent for you--you'll find out for yourself; but one of the reasons is that I Want you to go with a little party of us to a point not far from your home. You know the roads, and you know what the negroes call the shiort cuts." . 4 To-night ? " asked Joe. 'Yes, to-night. Not now, but a little later." Joe ate his supper, and then sat gazing into the fire that had been kindled on the hearth. "I was just thinking, Mr. Deo," he said, after a while, " whether I ought to g- and see rooither." i"Now that is the question." Mr. Deome tari drew his chair closer to the lad, as if preparing to argue the matter. " Of course, you feel as if you ought to go. That is natural. But, if you go, you will havie to give your mother some reason for being here. You could only tell her that I had sent for you. This is such a poor reason that she would be uneasy. Doik't you think so ?"

A NIGHT'S ADVENTURES.

209

" Well," said Joe, after a pause, " I can come to see her next Sunday."
Rubbing his fat hands together, Mr. Deometari looked at Joe a long time. He seemed to be meditating. The ring on his finger glistened like a ray of sunlight that had been captured and was trying to escape. .
" I want to take you around," he said to Joe after a while, " and introduce you to Captain Johnson, our worthy provost-marshal."
" Me ? " asked the lad, in a tone of astonish
ment. " Yes," said Mr. Deometari. " Why not?- A
bright boy like you should be acquainted with all our great military men. Our noble captain would be very glad to see you if he knew as much about your visit as I do."
" But as it is," said Joe, quickly, " he doesn't know any more about it than I do."
" My dear boy," exclaimed Mr. Deometari, in a bantering tone, " don't get impatient. It is so very simple that all our plans might be spoiled if I told you. Now, then," he continued, looking at his watch, " if you are ready, we will go. You have no overcoat, but my shawl here will answer just as well."

Fr* - /-
X

ON THE PLANTATION.

Joe protested that he never wore an over-

cc at, even in the coldest weather; but his pro-

. !.-.'

'

"

'

'

'

'

test had no effect on Mr. Deometari, who gave

the shawl a dexterous turn and wrapped Joe in

it from head to heels. . Then he fastened it at

the lad's throat with a long steel pin that had a

handle like a dagger.

"Why, I look just like a girl," said Joe,

glancing down at his feet.

,Very well, Miss Josephine," laughed Mr.

Deometari; "just take my arm."

The provost-marshal's office was on the op

posite side of the public square from the tavern,

and Mr. Deometari, instead of following the

sidewalk, went through the court-house yard.

There was not much formality observed around

the office. There was no sentinel stationed at

the door, which was opened (in response to

Mr! Depmetari's knock) by a small negro boy.

Down a little passage-way, or hall, Mr. Deo-

metari went, followed by Joe. A light shone

froiii a door at the end of a passage on the* left,

and into this door Mr. Deometari went without

CereI.mon. y. Th' ere was "n ot much furniture in the jroom--four chairs, a lounge, and a table, A

sword hung on the wall, between lithograph

A NIGHT'S ADVENTURES.

211

portraits of General Lee and Stonewall Jackson; and on one side was a long array of pigeon holes full of papers. A man sat at the table, and he was so busily engaged in writing that he nodded without looking up from his work.

The door attendant.
" Henderson," said Mr. Deometari, " I have company to-night. I want you to know this young man. His name is Joe Maxwell. He is an honorary member of the Relief Committee."

212

ON THE PLANTATION.

At this Henderson wiped his pen on his head and laid it down. Then he peered across ihe table at Joe. The two candles that gave Jjiim light were so close to his eyes that they piinded him when he lifted his face. I "Maxwell, did you say?--All right, Mr. Maxwell; I am glad to see you. Excuse my hand; it is full of ink." i Mr. Henderson had a soft, gentle voice, and his hand, although it was splashed with ink, was as delicate as that of a woman. L " Is this the Mr. Henderson you were telling nie about some time ago?" asked Joe, turning to Mr. Deometari. " I mean the Mr. Henderson
i
Who was sick when you retreated from Laurel Hill?"
" The same," said Mr. Deometari. Mr. Henderson laughed softly to hide his surprise, pushed his chair back, and rose from his seat. Whatever he was going to say was leu unsaid. At that moment a knock that echoed down the hallway came on the outer door, and it was followed almost immediately by the firm and measured tread of some new comer.. Then there appeared in the doorway the serene face of Mr. Archie Blandford. He

?*-.: -

A NIGHT'S ADVENTURES.

213

glanced around the room half-smiling until his eyes fell on Joe, and then the shadowy smile gave place to an unmistakable frown. Joe saw it, and for the first time felt that his position was a peculiar one, to say the least. He began to feel very uncomfortable, and this feeling was not relieved by the curt nod of recognition that Mr. Blandford gave him. He was a sensitive lad, and it was not pleasant to realize that he was regarded as an intruder. He looked at Mr. Deometari, but that gentleman seemed to be absorbed in a study of the portraits on the wall. Mr. Blandford advanced a few steps into the room, hesitated, and then said, abruptly:
" Deo! let me see you a moment." The two men went into the hall and as far as the outer door, and, although they talked in subdued tones, the passage took the place of a speaking-tube, and every word they uttered could be heard by Joe Maxwell and Mr. Henderson. "Deo," said Mr. Blandford, " what under the sun is Maxwell doing here ? He oughVto be at home in bed." "He is here," Mr. Deometari explained, "at my invitation."
15

2*4

ON THE PLANTATION.

"But your reason must tell you, Deo, that that child ought not to be mixed up in this nights business. It is almost certain to be serioiks."
"That is precisely the reason he is here," saiid Mr. Deometari. " I might preach to you from now until doomsday, and youd never lis ten to me. But, with that boy looking at you, ybull keep your temper. I know you better than you know yourself. You came here to night with your mind made up to do something rash. I read it in your face last night; I saw it in] your eyes this morning; I hear it in your voiice now. My dear fellow, it will never do in the world. You would ruin everything. What you intended to do, you wont dare to do with that boy looking at you. And theres another reason: if this man Johnson is to be taken out of the county, the best route is by Armours Ferry, and Maxwell knows every foot of the roid."
. Then there was a pause, and Mr. Henderson went to the door and said:
. "You two might as well come in here and have it out. We can hear every word you say/

A NIGHT'S ADVENTURES,

215

They came back into the room, Mr. Bland-

ford smiling, and Mr. Deometari a little flushed.

" I forgot to shake hands with you just now,"

said Mr. Blandford, going over to Joe and seiz

ing the lad's hand. " It wasn't because I don't

like you/'

/

" Thank you," replied Joe. " I don't under

stand what you and Mr. Deo were talking

about, but I don't wan't to be in the way."

"You are not in the way at all," said Mr.

Deometari, emphatically.

" I should say not," exclaimed Mr. Blandford,

heartily. "Deo is right and I was Wrong. I'd

be happy if I wasn't in anybody's way any more

than you are. You'll find out when you grow

bigger that a man never gets too old to be a

fool." With that he reached under his over

coat and unbuckled a heavy pistol, and placed

it on the mantel.--"You see," he said to Mr.

Deometari, "I am making a complete surrender;

I don't want to have that gun where I can get

my hands on it when I see our friend Captain

Johnson."

" You may buckle on your pistol," remarked

Mr. Henderson, softly. "You won't see the

captain to-night."

c--- '. /.. - .-

. I,

ON THE PLANTATION.

" Thunderation!" exclaimed Mr. Deometari,

springing to his feet, "We must see him!

Pruitt is in the guard-house. Sick or well,

Captain Johnson must travel with us this night.

.J

* " *

y

.

"

I dont want him killed or hurt, but the scoun-

shall strut around this town no more.*

Its just as I tell you/ said Henderson, in

his gentle way; "youll not see him to-night."

Mr. Blandford laughed, as though he re-

gaMed the matter as a joke, while Mr. Hender-

sbii began to fumble among some papers on

thej table. He selected from these three little

. .





*

do(fUments, which he spread put before him,

bn on the other, ,

Then he looked at the other

twomen and smiled,

" Tom," said Mr. Deometari, " this is a very

serious matter* You know this man Johnson

as ^xrell as we do^ and you know that the time

has come to get rid of him."

r I know him a great deal better than either

of ypu/said Mr. Henderson, still smiling, "and

tha^ is the reason hes not here to-night. That

is tne reason you wont see him."

r. Deometari paced back and forth on the

r, pullinjg his whiskers, while Mr. Blandford*

druinnied impatiently on the table.

A NIGHT'S ADVENTURES.

217

"The trouble is," Mr. Henderson went on,

still addressing Mr. Deometari, " that we are

both afraid of Archie Blandford's temper."

" Now, just listen at that! " exclaimed Mr.

Blandford. " Why, you'll make this chap here

think I'm vicious. He'll believe I'm a man-

eater."

" We both know how he feels toward Cap

tain Johnson," Mr. Henderson continued, not

heeding the interruption, "and we have both

been trying to prevent him from doing any

thing he might regret. I think your plan would

have succeeded; and I'm glad yu brought

Maxwell, anyhow, because I like to meet a

bright boy once in a while ; but my plan is

the best, after all, for Captain Johnson is

gone."

Mr. Deometari stopped walking the floor,

and sat down. " Tell us about it."

" Well," said Mr. Henderson, " here is some

correspondence that came to Captain Johnson

through the post-office. There are three letters.

We will call this number one :

**

"'Sir: It has been noticed that you have

refused to forward supplies intended for the

wives and children of Confederate soldiers.

ON THE PLANTATION.

Tnis refers especially to the wife and children

of one John Pruitt.

| " There is no signature," said Mr. Hender-

soh. "This" -taking up another document

" ^i.e- will call number two/

.

.. I " Sir: It is known that no supplies have left

this post for the wife and children of one John

Prtiitt. Will the Relief Committee have to act?

" Here," continued Mr. Henderson, <i is the

last. It is number three:

" Sir: John Pruitt is in jail, where he can

rioi help himself. The Relief Committee will

meet to-morrow night. Hold yourself in readi

ness to hear again the story of the retreat from

Laiirel Hill."

4

"Well?" said Mr. Deometari, as Mr. Hen

derson paused.

I

:



"

, -1" Well, the man was worried nearly to death.

He was in a continual fidget. At last he came

to ine and talked the matter over. That was

yesterday. We went over the Laurel Hill inci

dents together, and I used Archie Blandfords name pretty freely. The tipshot of it was that

.

lac vised Captain Johnson to report to the com-

mai der of the post in Macon, and he took my

advtce.

A NIGHT'S ADVENTURES.

219

" Do I look like a dangerous man ? " asked

Mr. Blandford, turning to Joe.

" Not now," replied Joe. "But your eyes

are very bright."

" I wish to goodness they were as bright as

yours!" said Mr. Blandford, laughing.

"So we've had all our trouble for nothing,"

Mr. Deometari suggested.

" Oh, no," said Mr. Henderson; " we've been

saved a great deal of trouble. Johnson is gone,

and I have here an order for Pruitt's release."

" If we had known all this," remarked Mr.

Deometari, "Maxwell would be safe in bed,

where I suspect he ought to be.--My son," he

went on, " it is a pity to have you riding back

and forth in the night."

"Just to please a fat man with the whimsies,"

Mr. Blandford observed.



,

"Oh, it is no trouble to me," Joe protested.

"It is almost like a book, only I don't exactly

understand it all. What were you going to do

with Captain Johnson ?"

" Me ? oh, I--well, the fact is, Deo was com

manding my regiment to-night," replied Mr.

Blandford. He seemed to be embarrassed.

"It is all very simple," said Mr. Deometari.

'--.
'.
- ^~
1
, . -4
-| ;

-. . .

ON THE PLANTATION.

-

.

" When you get a little older youll find a great

mac y people like Captain Johnson. He had a

little power, and he has used it so as to turn all

the people here against him. Another trouble

is, that he used to belong to the regulars, where

theidiscirpline is as- strict as it can be.. He has tried to be too strict here, and these Confeder

ate beople wont stand it. The private soldier

thinks he is as good as a commissioned officer,

and sometimes better. A provost-marshal is a

sort of military chief ofpolice, and, when his

com nander is as far away as Macon, he can do

a goxl deal of harm, especially if he has a streak

of mbanness running through him. Johnson has

made enemies here by the hundred. Worst of

all, fye has treated the wives of soldiers very

badly. You know all about his spite at John

Priiii fc We were going to take him to-night to

Arm mrs Ferry, put him across the river, and

- i : give him to understand that we could get along without him."

"1 Lnd he would never come back ? " asked Joe.

- "No," said Mr.Deometari, "he would never

back."

Was Mr. Blandford very mad with him ? "

red the lad.

A NIGHT'S ADVENTURES.

221

"Yes, I was,*' that gentleman admitted, laughing a little and looking uncomfortable.

" He had me arrested once, and tried to make

me shovel sand into a barrel that was open at

both ends. What do you think of that ? "

" I think it must have been very funny," said

Joe, laughing heartily.

. '

" I reckon it was funny," observed Mr. Bland-

ford, grimly, " but the rascal wouldn't have en

joyed the fun if it hadn't been for this big fat

man here."

" You are not referring to me, I hope," said

Mr. Henderson, so seriously that the rest burst

out laughing.

" Come, now," Mr. Deometari suggested.

"Let's let in some fresh air on poor John

Pruitt."

There was nothing more to be done after

Mr. Pruitt was released from the guard-house,

and so Joe mounte'd his horse and cantered off

to the plantation. Butterfly was very glad to

have his head turned in that direction, and he

went so swiftly that in the course of an hour

Joe was at home and in bed. His mind was so

full 6f what he had seen and heard that he went

over it all in his slumber. Mr. Deometari,

"V

ON THE PLANTATION.

*
chunky as he was, took the place of Porthos, the

musketeer; Mr. Blandford \vas DArtagnan;

Henderson w.a-s the sleek and slender one

(A-amis) whose name Joe could not remember

..

.

inliis dreams; and even Mr. Pruitt grew into a

romantic figure.

CHAPTER XIV.

THE CURTAIN FALLS.

SOMEHOW, after Joe Maxwell's experience

with Mr. Deometari, Mr. Blandford, and the

rest, events of importance seemed to follow

each other more rapidly. Some of them were

surprising, and all confusing. It was in the

month of July that Atlanta was taken by Gen

eral Sherman. A few weeks afterward, Harbert,

while cleaning and oiling the old Washington

No. 2 hand-press in The Countryman office, told

Joe that the Federal army would come marching

through the county before long.

" Who told you ? " asked Joe.

" De word done come," replied Harbert

" Hit bleeze ter be so, kaze all de niggers done

hear talk un it. We-all will wake up some er

deze odd-come-shorts an* fin* de Yankees des

a-swarmin' all 'roun* here."

'*".What are you going to do ? " Joe inquired,

laughing.

-

ON THE PLANTATION.
Oh, you kin laugh, Marse Joe, but deyer . What I gwine do? Well, suh, Im ter git-up an* look at um, an may be tip
.my hat ter some er de big-bugs mongst um, an* den Im gwine on bout my business* I dont speck deyer gwine ter bodder folks what dont bodaer dem, is dey ? "
Joe had forgotten this conversation until it was (recalled to his mind one morning shortly after his night ride to Hillsborough. General

Sherman had swung loose from Atlanta, and was inarching down through middle Georgia. The peo. pi e t. h. at Joe -saw . we.nt about with anxious faces and even the negroes were frightened. Before this vast host all sorts of rumors fled, carrying fear and consternation to the peaceful plantations. At last, one cold, drizzly day in November, Joe Maxwell, trudging along the road on his. way to the printing-office, heard the clatter of hoofs behind him, and two horsemen in blue came galloping along. They reined up their horses, and inquired the distance to Hillsborough, and then went galloping on again. They were couriers carrying dispatches from the T ventieth Army Corps to General Sherman.
Tl ere was hurrying to and fro on the plan-
i--.=- -1 '.

THE CURTAIN FALLS.

225

tation after this. The horses and mules were driven to a remote field in which there was a large swamp. Joe carried Butterfly arid teth*

Even the negroes were frightened.
ered him in the very middle of the swamp, where he could get plenty of water to drink and young cane to eat. During the next ten
-.s-^

F*: -'-'< . -

ON THE PLANTATION.

'



:

'*

'

the plantation, just as Harbert predicted,

iy swarmed with foraging parties of Federals,

by some of the negroes, they found the



and mules and other stock and drove

-

.

off; and, when Joe heard of it, he felt like

over the loss of Butterfly. The horse

did! not belong to him, but he had trained it

from a colt, and it was his whenever he wanted

to i se it, day or night. Yet Butterfly was soon

for] otten in the excitement and confusion cre-

atec by the foragers, who swept through the

plai tations, levying in the name of war on the

live stock, and ransacking the not too well-filled

smoke-houses and barns in search of supplies.

joe Maxwell saw a good deal of these for

agers, and he found them all, with one excep

tion, to be good-humored. The exception was

: a German, who could scarcely speak English

enough to make himself understood. This Ger-

*j

.

man when he came to the store-room where the

hats were kept, wanted to take off as many as

his I orse could carry, and he became very angry

whei Joe protested. He grew so angry, in

fact, that he would have fired the building. He

lit a match, drew together a lot of old papers

and other rubbish, and was in the act of firing

THE CURTAIN FALLS.
it, when an officer ran in and gave him a tre mendous paddling with the flat of his sword. It was an exhibition as funny as a scene in the circus, and Joe enjoyed it as thoroughly as he could under the circumstances. By night, all. the foragers had disappeared.
The army had gone into camp at Denham's Mill, and Joe supposed that it would march on to Hillsborough, but in this he was mistaken. It turned sharply to the left the next morning and marched toward Milledgeville. Joe had aim lessly wandered along this road, as he had done a hundred times before, and finally seated him self on the fence near an old school-house, and began to whittle on a rail. Before he knew it the troops were Upon him. He kept his seat, and the Twentieth Army Corps, commanded by General Slocum, passed in review before him. It was an imposing array as to numbers, but not as to appearance. For once and for all, so far as Joe was concerned, the glamour and romance of war were dispelled. The skies were heavy with clouds, and a fine, irritating mist sifted down. The road was more than ankle-deep in mud, and even the fields were boggy. There was nothing gay about this vast procession,

ON THE PLANTATION.
wi A its tramping soldiers, its clattering horse-
men, and its lumbering wagons, except the ternof the men. They splashed through the
d, cracking their jokes and singing snatches
oe. Maxwell, sitting on the fence, was the subject of many a jest, as the good-humored
marched by. Hello, Johnny \ Where's your parasol ? " .-A

THE CURTAIN FALLS.

229

"Jump down, Johnny, and let me kiss you

good-by ! "

"Johnny, if you are tired, get up behind and

ride!"

. ' . : ."

" Run and get your trunk, Johnny, and get

aboard!"

" He's a bushwhacker, boys. If he bats his

eyes, I'm a-goin' to dodge !"
' ' ' " Where's the rest of your regiment, John_
"If there was another one of 'em.a-settin' on

the fence, on t'other side," I'd say we was sur

rounded !"

These and hundreds of other comments, ex

clamations, and questions, Joe was made the tar

get of ; and, if he stood the fire of them with

unusual calmness, it was because this huge pano

rama seemed to him to be the outcome of some

wild dream. That the Federal army should be

plunging through that peaceful region, after all

he had seen in the newspapers about Confeder

ate victories, seemed to him to be an impossi

bility. The voices of the men, and their laugh

ter, sounded vague and insubstantial. It was

surety a dream that had stripped war of its glit

tering trappings and its flying banners. It was

":"'

16

' ' ''

'..':.- -...:"'

230

ON THE PLANTATION.

surely the distortion of a dream that tacked on to t lis procession of armed men droves of cows, hones, and mules, and wagon-loads of bateaux ! Joe had read of pontoon bridges, but he had nev4r heard of a pontoon train, nor did he know that bateaux were a part of the baggage of this invading army. - Bi ut it all rpassed after. a while, and then JToe discovered that he had not been dreaming at all. He jumped from the fence and made his way home through the fields. Never before, since its settlement, had such peace and quiet reigned on the plantation. The horses and mules were gone, and many of the negro cabins were! empty. Harbert was going about as busy as evjer, and some of the older negroes were in their accustomed places, but the younger ones, especially those who, by reason of their fieldwbrfc, had not been on familiar terms with their master and mistress, had followed the Federal army. Those that remained had been informed by thie editor that they were free; and so it hap pened, in the twinkling of an eye, that the old things had passed away and all wks new.
IB! a corner of the fence, not far from the road,! Joe found an old negro woman shivering

te. . I

THE CURTAIN FALLS.

231

and moaning. Near her lay an old negro man,

his shoulders covered with an old ragged shawl.

" Who is that lying there ? " asked Joe.

" It my ole man, suh."

"What is the matter with him?."

"He dead, suh! But, bless God, he died

free!"*

It was a pitiful sight, and a pitiable ending

of the old couple's dream of freedom. Harbert

and the other negroes buried the old man, and

the old woman was made comfortable in one of

the empty cabins; she never ceased to bless

" little marster," as she called Joe, giving him all

the credit for everything that was done for her.

Old as she was, she and her husband had fol

lowed the army for many a weary mile on the

road tot fre"e.dom. The old man.-f-o.u.ndit in t' h. e fence corner, and a few weeks later the old'

Woman found it in the humble cabin.

The next morning, as Joe Maxwell was loiter

ing around the printing-office, talking to the

editor, Butterfly came galloping up, ridden by

..^

I ".'.'-

Mink, who was no longer a runaway.

* This incident has had many adaptations. It occurred just

as it is given here, and was published afterward in The Cewt-

trytnzn.

.

.

232

ON THE PLANTATION.

I seed yvou put *im out in de swamp dar,

Mars' Joe, an* den I seed some er de yuther

.niggers gwine dar long wid dera Yankee mens,

an' 1 say ter myse'f dat I better go dar an' git

'im;[1 so I tuc* k *im down' on de river, anf here he is. He mayn't be ez fatez he wuz, but he des ez

game ez he yever is been."

. JOG was pleased, and the editor was pleased;

and it happened that Mink became one of the

tenants on the plantation, and after a while he

bought a little farm of his own, and prospered

and thrived.

i

.

. out this is carrying a simple chronicle too

far. It can not be spun out here and now so

as t6 show the great changes that have been

wrought--the healing of the wounds of war;

the lifting up of a section from ruin and poverty

to prosperity; the molding of the beauty, the

courjage, the energy, and the strength of the old

civilization into the new; the gradual uplifting

of a lowly race. All these things can not be

told of here. The fire burns low, and the tale

is ended.

"The plantation newspaper was issued a little

while longer, but in a land filled with desolation

and despair its editor could not hope to see it

THE CURTAIN FALLS.

233

survive. A larger world beckoned to Joe Max well, and he went out into it. And it came about that on every side he found loving hearts to comfort him and strong and 'friendly hands to guide him. He found hew associations and formed new ties. In a humble way he made a name for himself, but the old plantation days still live in his dreams.

THE END.

D. APPLETON & GO.'S PUBLICATIONS.

Brer Rabbit divulges his plans. (From "Uncle Rtuius.")

T LVCLE REMUS: his Songs and his Sayings. The C-/ Folk-lore of the Old Plantation. By JOEL CHANDLER HAR
RIS. Illustrated from Drawings by F. S. CHURCH and J. H. MOSER, of Georgia. I2tno. Cloth, $1.50. '

" The idea of preserving and publishing these legends in the form in which the old

plantation negroes actually tell them, is altogether one of the happiest literary con

ceptions of the day. And very admirably is the work done. . . . In such touches lies

the charm of this fascinating little volume of legends, which deserves to be placed on a

level with Reincke Fucks for its quaint humor, without reference to the ethnologic*!

interest possessed by these stories, as indicating, perhaps, a common origin for very

widely severed races."--London Spectator.

" We are just discovering what admirable literary material there is at home, what

a great mine there is to explore, and how quaint and peculiar is the material which

can be dug up. Mr. Harris's book may be looked on in a double light--either as a

pleasant volume recounting the stories told by a typical old colored man to a child,

or as a valuable contribution to our somewhat meager folk-lore. . . .To Northern

readers the story of Brer (Brother--Brudder) Rabbit may be novel. To those femiHar

with plantation life, who have listened to these quaint old stories, who have still tender

reminiscences of some good old mauma who told these wondrous adventures to them .

when they were children, Brer Rabbit, the Tar Baby, and Brer Fox come back again

with all the past pleasures of younger days."--New York Times.

" Uncle Remus's sayings on current happenings are very shrewd and bright, and

the plantation and revival songs are choice specimens of their sort."---Boston Journal,

" The volume is a most readable one, whether it be regarded as a humorous book

merely, or as a contribution to the literature of folk-lore."--AVw York World.

" This is a thoroughly amusing book, and is much the best humorous compilation

that has been put before the American public for many a day."--Philadelphia Ttlf-

graph.

. '''.. ______

New York: D. APPLETON & CO., i, 3, & 5 Bond Street

D. APPLETON & CO.S PUBLICATIONS.

1TOURMALINS TIME CHEQUES. By F. ANSTEY, author of "Vice Versa," " The Giants Robe," etc.

"Mi. Anstey has done nothing more original or fantastic with more success."-- The Nation,

. '* A carious conceit and very entertaining story."--Boston A dvertiser.

u Ea4h. cheque is good for several laughs."--New York Herald.

" Nothing could be more sprightly ami amusingly whimsical.**--Boston Courier.

"

A

v*nry

clever

tale of fantastic Times.

humor

...

The literary style

is

graceful

and

" Certainly one of the most diverting books of the season "--Brooklyn Times.

"Exquisitely printed and bound."--Philadelphia Times.

SHADOW TO SUNLIGHT. By the MARQUIS OF LORNE.
"fn these days of princely criticism--that is to say, criticism of princes--it is re freshing Co meet a really good bit of aristocratic literary work, albeit the author u only a prince-in-law. . . . The theme chosen by the Marquis makes bis story attractive to Americaris."---Chicago Tribune.
" A charming book." Cincinnati Enquirer.

A OPTING AN ABANDONED FARM. By HATE SANBORN.

, "A su any, pungent, humorous sketch."--Chicago Times.

"A laughable picture of the grievous experiences of a young woman who sought to demonstrate the idea that a woman can fkim. ... The diakes refused to lay; the vegetables refused to come up; and the taxes would not go down."--Minneapolis Tribune.

" The 'book is dainty in exterior as well as rich within; and to those who seek health, moral and physical, we say, ' Buy it' " Montreal Gazette.

" If arty one wants an hour's entertainment for a warm sunny day on the piazza, or a. cold wet day by the log-fire, this is the book that will furnish it"--Neva York Observer. .

"Many is die good laugh' the reader will have over its pages."--Philadelphia

Ledger. \

,,

THE LAKE OF LUCERNE, and other Stories. :V BEATRICE WHITBY, author of. "A Matter of Skill," "The Awakening of Mary Fenwick," etc.

"Sir short stories carefully and conscientiously finished, and told with the graceful easeof the practiced raconteur"--Literary Digest.

1 The stories are pleasantly told in light and delicate vein, and are sure to be ac" : to the friends Miss Wm'tby has already made on this side of the Atlantic."--
' BvUetix.

, "Very Boston A

ty, not only in r.

chanical workmanship but in matter and manner."--

Each, t6nao, half cloth, with specially designed cover, 50 cents.

.Ken- York: D. APPLETON & CO., I, 3, & 5 Bond Street.

D. APPLETON & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS

T FAITH DOCTOR. By EDWARD EGGLESTCN, author of "The Hoosier Schoolmaster," "The Circuit Rider,"
etp. I2mo. Cloth, $1.50.
" An excellent piece of work. . . . With each new novel the author of * The Hoosier Schoolmaster' enlarges his audience, and surprises old friends by reserve forces unsuspected. Sterling integrity of character and high moral motives illuminate Dr. Eggleston's fiction, and assure its place in the literature of America which is to stand as a worthy reflex of the best thoughts of this age."--Aevt York World.
" (>ne of the novels of the decade."--Rochester Union and A dvertiser.
" It is extremely fortunate that the fine subject indicated in the title should have fallen into such competent hands."--Pittsburgh Chronicle-Telegraph.
" Much skill is shown by the author in making these 'fads' the basis of a revel of great interest. ... One who tries 10 keep in the current of good novel-reading must certainly find time to read ' The Faith Doctor.' "--Buffalo Commercial.
"A vivid and life-like transcript from several phases of society. Devoid of literary affectation and pretense, it is a wholesome American novel, well worthy of the popu larity which it has won."--Philadelphia Inquirer.

A N UTTER FAILURE. By MIRIAM COLES HARRIS, author of " Rutledge." 12010. Cloth, $1.25.

"A story with an elaborate plot, worked put with great cleverness and with the
skill of an experienced artist in fiction. The interest is strong and at times very dra matic. . . . Those who were attracted by ' Rutledge' will giva hearty welcome to this story, and find it folly as enjoyable as that once immensely popular novel."--Boston
Saturday Evening Gazette.

" The pathos of this tale is profound, the movement highly dramatic* the moral

elevating."--New York World.

.-

" In this new story the author has done some of the best work that she has ever
given to the public, and it will easily class among the most meritorious and .nost original novels of the year."--Boston Home Journal.

" The author of ' Rutledge' does not often send out a new volume, but when she
does it is always a literary event. . . . Her previous books were sketcliy and slight when compared with the finished and trained power evidenced in 'An Utter Failure.' " --Nevt Havtn Palladium.

A PURITAN J>AGAN. By JULIET GORDON, au thor of "A Diplomat's Diary," etc. I2mo. Cloth, $I.OO.

" Mrs. Van Rensselaer Cniger grows strongerjas she writes. . . . The lines in her'

story are boldly and vigorously etched."--New 'byrk limes.

:

" The author's recent books have made for her a secure place in current literature, where she can stand fast. . . . Her latest production,'A Puritan Pagan/is an eminent ly clever story, in the best sense of the word clever."--Philadelphia Telegraph.

" Has already made its mark as a popular story, and will have an abundance of
readers. .'. . It contains some useful lessons that will repay the thoughtful study of persons of both sexes."--New York Journal of Commerce.

" This brilliant novel will, without doubt, add to the repute of the. writer who chooses to be known as Julien Gordon. . . . The ethical purpose of the author is kept tully in evidence through a series of intensely interesting situations."--Boston Beacon.

. " It is obvious that the author is thoroughly at home in illustrating die manner and the sentiment of the best society of both Ameiica and Europe,"-- Chicago Times.

New York: D. APFLETON & CO, i, 3, & 5 Eond Street.

IX APPLETON & CO.S PUBLICATIONS.

, RECENT ISSUES IN APPLETONS' TOWN AND COUNTRY LIBRARY.

THREE MISS KINGS. By ADA CAMBRIDGE, author;of "My Guardian." ,i2mo. Paper, 50 cents; doth, 75 cearts.
r Hresenpeaty "be recommended^ as one of the choice stoiies of the season, graceiul, thoughtful, and interesting from the first to the final page/'--
Sfiton Literary World.

A 2^ATTER OF SKILL. By BEATRICE WHITBY, author of "The Awakening of Mary Fenwick" and "Part of the' Property."i2mo. Paper, 50 cents ; cloth, $1.00.
" A prett lore-story, told in a gracefully piquant manner, and with a frank fresh ness of styfe that makes it very attractive in the reading. It is uncommonly well written."--Rotten Saturday Evfning Gazette.
" The story is charmingly told, and is very readable."--Literary li arid.

MARIAN, AND OTHER STORIES. By MOLLY ELLIOT SEAWELL, author of " Throckmorton " and "Xattle Jaryis," I2mo. Paper, 50 cents ; cloth, $i oo.

^Tbcfe Litttwy

cleverness in this collection of short stories."--Boston

.'. "Miss Stiawefl has a brisk and prolific fancy, and a turn for the odd and fantastic, while she is Past Matter in die use of negro dialect and the production of tales of piantatioa tft and manners. AB these stories are spirited, well marked by local color, and writtea *tth sknf aad ingenuity. "-->Nei York Tribvne.

** tCm Seawci writes capital stories, and in a special way nothing of late has been done better K>r mote daintythan 'Maid Marian.'"--jftw J ork Times.
cr,'E ROMAN'S WAY. By EDMUND PENDLETON, author of "A Conventional Bohemian," "A Virginia Inherit

ance," etc. I2mo. Paper, 50 cents; doth, $1.00.

"The author is a Vffgiatan who has written some interesting stories, and who steadily improves upon himsetf. , . , This is a thoughtful, semi-philosophical story. There is ranch discussion in it, but none of it is prosy.----New York Herald.
" In this ^enumely interesting novel the author depicts one of the most charming characters t0 be foood in the vast range of woman's realm. . . . The dose is artistically devised aad shows a deep observation. Mr. Pendleton has a brilliant future before him in hk chosen path "--sS/. Louis Refubtic.

A J^ERCIFUL DIVORCE. By F. W. MAUDE
* I2mo. Paper, 50 cents ; cloth, $1.00.

.

( - "Thefehftvebeen few more searching studies of the rampant English plutocracy thaa afibnied by this briffiaady written volume "--Boston Beacon.

. " The book is cvnoosiy interesting from the startling side-light it throws on English

society of the ttpper grades."--Chicago Times.

.

New Voric i D. APPLETON & CO., I, 3, & 5 Bond Street



D. APPLETON & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS.

RECENT ISSUES IN APPLETONS' TOWN AND COUNTRY LIBRARY.
EPHEN ELLICOTTS DAUGHTER. By Mrs.
J. H. NEEDELL, author of "The Story of Philip Methuen." I2mo. Paper, 50 cents ; cloth, $1.00.
" I am desirous to bear my humble testimony to the great ability and high aim of the work."-- Hon. W. E. GLADSTONE.
* I find it exceedingly interesting, and like its high tone."--ARCHDEACON FARRAR. " From first to fast an exceptionally strong and beautiful story. ' '--Lottdatt

O NE REASON WHY. By BEATRICE WHITBY, anthor of "The Awakening of Mary Fen wick," "Part of the
Property," etc. I2mo. Paper, 50 cents ; cloth, $1.00.
" A remarkably well-written story. . . . The author makes 'her people speak die language of evcry-day life, and a vigorous and attractive realism pervades the book, which provides excellent entertainment from beginning to end."--Boston Saturday Evening Gazette.

T"HE TRAGEDY OF IDA NOBLE. By W. CLARK RUSSELL, author of " The Wreck of the Grosvenor," "The Mystery of the Ocean Star," etc. I2mo. Paper, 50

cents; cloth, $l.oo.

" Mr. Russell is one of the most successful writers of sea-stories of the present day, and whatever bears his name is sure to possess some share of merit. "--Montreal Gazette.

"The best sea-story since 'The Wreck of the Grosvenor.' It shows a determina

tion to abandon the well-worn tracks of fiction and to evolve a new and striking plot

.... There is no sign of exhausted imagination in this strong tale."--Philadelphia

Public LtJger.



T JOHNSTO WN STAGE, AND OTHER STORIES. By ROBERT H. FLETCHER, author of ''A Blind Bargain," " Marjorie and her Papa," etc. I2tno. Paper, 50 cents ; cloth, $1.00. .

" Nine real stories, not studies of character, but narratives of incident, . . . viva ciously and pleas3ntly told."--Boston Pilot.
" A grf>up of brisk sketches admirably written, with much realistic effect.**--Minne apolis Tribune.
"A collection of as charming short stories as one could wish to find, .... most of them Western in scene."--San Francisco A rgcnaut.

A WIDOWER INDEED. By RHODA BROUGHTON and ELIZABETH BISLAND. I2mo. Paper* 50 cents; cloth, $i.op.

. "Done with masterly skill The who'e work is strong and well worth reading."-- New York Journal of Commerce.

"The story is written with great strength, and possesses a powerful interest that

never-flags."--Boston Home Journal.

.

New York: D. APPLETON & CO., I, 3, & 5 Bond Street

D. APPLETON & CO.^S PUBLICATIONS.

T SOVEREIGNS AND COURTS OF EUROPE. The Home and Court Life and Characteristics cf the Reigning Families. By " PoLlTiKOS." With many Por traits. I2mo. Cloih, $1.50. .

- " A i emarkably aWz bao!c. .. . . A great deal of the inner history of Europe is to Le found in the work, and it is illustrated by admirable poi traits." '1 he AtAettctum.

" Its chief merit is that it gives a new view of several sovereigns. ... The anonym-ras author seems to have sources of information that are not open to the f< icign c irrespondents who generally try to convey the impression that they aie on teims of intimacy with royalty." Sax Francisco Chronicle.

** A ibost entertaining volume, which is evidently the work of a singularly well-irf>raad Writer. The vivid descriptions of the home and court life of the va: lous roj allies convey eatacdy th* knowledge of character and -the means of a personal estimate which will be valued by intelligent readers/ Toronto Mail.

"The anonymous author of these sketches of the reigning sovereigns of Europe
appears to have gathered a good deal of curious information about their private lives, manners, and customs, and has certainly in several instances had access to unusual sources. : The result is a volume which furnishes views of the kings and queens con cerned, Go-fuller and more intimate than can be found elsewhere." New York Tribnye.

". . i A book that would give the truth, the whole truth, and nothingtbut the. trirth (so far as such comprehensive accuracy is possible), about these exalted personages, so often heard about but so seldom seen by ordinary mortals, was a desideratum, and this
book seems .well fitted to satisfy the demand: The author is a well-known writer on questions indicated by his pseudonym." Montreal Gazette.

"A very handy book of reference. '--Boston Transcript.



CANADIAN JOURNAL, i872--8. By LADY : )UFFE*IN, author of " Our Vice-Regal Life in India." Extracts : roro letters home written while Lord Dufferin was Governor1 ieneral of Canada. With Portrait; Map, and Illustrations from ketches by Lord Dufferin. I2mo. Cloth, $2.00.

" A graphic and intenselv interesting portraiture of out-door life in the Dominion,

and win become, we are confide it, one of the standard works on the Dominion.

It is a

g volume."

Traveller.

- " IB every place and under every condition of circumstances the Marchioness shows

bersef toibe a true lady, without reference to her title Her book is most entertaining, and tikena^ioouBdioe axtd-hunor of every page must stir a sympathetic spirit in its tead-

written record ef social functions in whkh the author was the _ s; and many distinguished persons. Americans as w.dl as Canadians, pass across die gayry decorated sr/ee. The author * a careful observer, and jots down her i^j g peopk j^ ^^ ways ^th a frankness that is at once entertaining and "--Boyk-Bttyer.
The! many readers of Lady T>nffanVs Journal of" Our Vice-Rega* Life in India" wffl weta e tdhais simtilar record from the same vtivacitouos pen, although it concerns a perio-1 aa ferfdom to die other, and takes one back many years. The book consists of extracts! mm letters written home by Lady Dnffcrra to her friends (her mother chiefly), while her husband was Governor General of Canada; and describes her experiences in dCiienscainmneatcih\atty and c-ha-r-nm-e-style wid which readers were before made familiar."

Net York: D. APPLETON & CO., i, 3, & 5 Bond Street.

D. APPLETON & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS.

7JISTOR Y OF THE PEOPLE f* OF THE UNITED STA TESt from
the Revolution to the Civil War. By JOHN BACH MCMASTER. To be com pleted in five volumes. Vols. I, II, .and III now ready. 8vo, cloth, gilt top, $2.56 each.

In the course of this narrative much is -written
of wars, conspiracies, and rebellions; of Presi dents, of Congresses, of embassies, of treaties, of the ambition of political leaders, and of the rise of great parties in the nation. .Yet the his
tory of the people is the chief theme; At every
stage of the splendid progress which separates the America of Washington and Adams from the JOHJt BACH MC MASTER. America in which \\e live, it has been the au^ thor's purpose to describe the dress, the occupa
tions, the amusements, the literary canons of the times ; to note the changes of manners and morals; to trace the growth of that humane spirit which abolished punishment for debt, and reformed the discipline of prisons and of jails; to recount the manifold improvements which, in a thousand ways, have multiplied the conveniences of life and ministered to the happiness of our race; to describe the rise and progress of that long series of mechanical inventions and discoveries which is now the admiration of the world, and our just pride and boast; to tell how, under the bcr.ign influence of liberty and peace, there sprang up, in the course of a single century, a prosperity unpar alleled in the annals of human affairs.

" The pledge given by Mr. McMaster, that' the history of the people shall be the

chief theme,' is punctiliously and satisfactorily fulfilled. He carries out his promise in

a complete, vivid, and delightful way. We should add that (he literary execution of

the work is worthy of the indefatigable industry and unceasing vigilance with which '

the stores of historical material have been accumulated, weighed, and sifted. The

cardinal qualities of style, lucidity, animation, and energy, are everywhere present.

Seldom indeed has a book in which matter of substantial value has been so happily

united to attractiveness of form been offered by an American author, to his fellow-

citizens."--New York Sun.

.

.;'.-.

-

"To recount the marvelous progress of the American people, to describe their life, their literature, their occupations, their amusements, is Mr. McMaster's object. His theme is an important one, and we congratulate him on his success. It has rarely been our province to notice a book with so many excellences and so few defects."--^V/tt; York Herald.

"Mr. McMaster at once shows his grasp of the various themes and his special

capacity as a histoiiah of die people. Bis aim is high, but he hits'die mark."--

A'tw York Journal of Commerce.

'-.-...

". . . The author's pages abound, too, with illustrations of the best kind of histori

cal work, that of unearthing hidden sources of information and employing them, not

after the modern style of historical writing, in a mere report, but with the true artistic

method, in a well-digested narrative. ... If Mr. McMaster finishes his work in the

spirit and with the thoroughness and skill with which it has begun, it wDl take its place

among the classics of American literature."--Christian Uwon..

.

New York: D. APPLETON & CO., i, 3, & 5 Bond Street

D. APPLETUN & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS.
YOUNG HEROES OF OUH NAVY.
JUST PUBLISHED.
TIDSHIPMAN PAULDING. A true story of the J. * War of 1812. By MOLLY ELLIOT SEAWELL, author of ** Little
Jams,*1 With Six full-page Illustrations by J. O. DAVIDSON and GEORGE WHARTON EDWARDS. 8vo. Bound in blue cloth, with special design in gold and colors. $i.co.
The nook gives an excellent description of the battle of Lake Champlain. told in saierestmg style, and so wed blended with personal advent ne, that every boy will at to read av.aad will unavoidably remember its main atures.'' Umm. The story is told in a breezy, pleasant style that can not fail to capture the fancy MMT readers, and imparts much historical knowledge at the same time, while the
win help the understanding of die events described. It is an excellent boot foe boys, and even 4e girls will be interested in It."--Brooklyn Standard-Union.
EDITION.
ITTLE JARVIS. The story of the heroic midsfaipman of the frigate "Constellation." By MOLLY ELLIOT SEAWELL. With Six full-page Illustrations by J- O. DAVIDsoar and GEORGE WHARTON EDWARDS. 8vo. Bound uni formly with " Midshipman Paulding." $1.00.
on a true incident in our naval history. ... So well pictured as to and tears upon the faces that are bent over the volume. It is in ex-
acdy the spirit for a boy's book."--AV York Home Jourr.al. /arm was a manly, Jolly little midsHpraan on board the good ship Con-
on, m.the year 1800: so fuB of pranks that he spent most of his time b the and OftVreedi pPrrCepDaCtetd ffoorr tthhliSs' iinneevviittaabbllee fieitfe., .wwiitthh aa fbwowo^klr tin comner npnorclkret aannHd aa
5 ofhaid-tackIB theodier. .-. .' HB boyish ambition was to smell powder in a r-al . to ateet aad conquer a ire French roan-oAwar. It would be unfeir to the reader
to tel how Lttde Jarria conducted hanself when at length the ' Constellation' grappled -M he fiigate Vengeance' in deadly combat. H--Provide*ce Journal.
: aaatthhoormmaakkes the tale strongly and simply pathetic, and has given the world aake it better."--Hartford Courtmt. rot siice Dr.. Edward Everett HaleV classic, 'The Man without a Ccniitry/ le been pobbsbed a more stirring lesson in patriotism. "--Boston Beacon. "tis what a boy would call 'a real boy's book.' "--Ckarksfo* News and Courier. Us t$the story which received the prize of five hundred dollars offered by *tVs Competition. It was worthy die distinction accorded it,"--Philadelphia
"It is well to mulbpfy such books, that we may awaken in the youth that thea UK spnit of devotion to duty of which Lttde Jams is a type. We shall some
used of'ttaXL"--Army . "Any one m search of a thoroughly good book for boys need look no further, for this.raaJcs among die very best."--MUtoaMkte Sentinel.
York: D. APPLETON & CO., I, 3, & 5 Bond Street

D. APPLETON & CCVS PUBLICATIONS.



. - .

FROM FLAG TO FLAG. 4 Woman's Adventures and Experiences in the South during the War, it* Mexico, and in Cuba. By ELIZA McHATTON-RiPLEY. I2mo. Cloth, $1.00.

The author of this book was the wife of a planter in Louisiana, and underwent some remarkable experiences in the'first part of the war; later in Mexico, many vicissitudes befell her; and of her life in Cuba, still later, she has a striking and unusual story to tell

" In a word, die book is an account of personal adventures which would be called

extraordinary did not one remember that the civil war must have brought simitar ones

to many. Her hardships are endured with the rarest pluck and good humor/ and

her shifty way of meeting difficulties seems almost to point to a Yankee strain in her

blood,"-- Tke Nation. .

".

T HISTOR Y OF A SLA VE. By H. H. JOHNSTON, author of " The Kilimanjaro Expedition, etc. With 47 full-page Illustrations, engraved fac-simile from the author's Drawings. Large 12mo. Paper cover, 50 cents.

" ' The History of a Slave' is a work of fiction based upon every-day occurrences

in the Dark Continent, and well calculated to bring home to the reader the social

condition of heathen and Mohammedan Africa, and the horrors of a domestic slave-

trade."-- The A tketufum.

V

-

T MEMOIRS OF AN ARABIAft PRIN CESS. By EMILY RUETE, ne'e Princess of Oman and Zanzibar. Translated from the German. 12mo. Cloth, 75 cents.
The author of this amusing autobiography is half-sister to the late Sultan of Zanzi bar, who some years ago married a German merchant and settled at Hamburg.
"A remarkably interesting little volume. . . . As a picture of Oriental court life, and manners'and customs in the Orient, by one who is'to the manor born, the book is prolific in entertainment and edification."--Boston Gazette. .

SKETCHES FROM MY LIFE. By the late Admiral ^ HOBART PASHA. With a Portrait. I2mo. Paper, 50 cents;
cloth, $1.00.

" The sailor is nearly always an adventurous and enterprising variety of the human

species, and Hobart Pasha was about as fine an example as 'one could wish to see. . .

The sketches of South American life are full of interest. The sport, the inevitable

entanglements of susceptible middies with beautiful Spanish girls and the sometimes

disastrous consequences, the dueb, attempts at assassination, and other adventures and

amusements, are described with much spirit . , . The sketches abound in inter'sthig

details of the American wax."--London AtJuneeum. .



New York: D. APPLETON & CO., I, 3, & 5 Bond Street.

rv f\-..
.
*-

D. APPLETON & CO.S PUBLICATIONS.

L-;.->

A NEW HUMOROUS TRAVEL-BOOK.

GIRLS ON A BARGE.
By V. CECIL COTES. Illustrated by F. H. TOWNSEND. ramo. Cloth $r.oo.
bright, vivacious sketch of cdd people and curious experiences, illustrated by tie artist who illustrated "A Social Departure" and " An American Girl in London," both of wifl be recalled by the good spirits of this equally unconventional of a journey down the Thames.

For something entirely original, piquant, and worthy of rapt attention, we com-

1 ffa*c little vohnsel" New York Journal of Commerce.

.

Describes with great vivacity a vacation trip on an English canal; and the ex-

i of the two young ladies and a young gentleman are set forth with a thorough

^ of the novel situations in which the parry often found itself. The forty-

tttoos are fatty in harmony with the light aud entertaining character of the

tort,"--.

Saturday Evening Gazette. C* ^.^^uu.^^.^_ *^ - J -- /**^ -- m44^

AN ENGLISH WOMANS RECORD OF HER LIFE IN AFRICA.

OME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM. By - ANWE MARTIN. Illustrated. i2mo, Cloth, $1.25.

(Cot in many days lias a mare interestn volume descriptive of life in a rercote offered to the public. It is so jdy writieH, so cheery, so pervaded Ly
the S oa& African straight, as it were, that ic reader regrets die rapidity with which he fa ids hinuetf staking hit way through its cbainung pages. "--New York 7 tmts.
One of Ae most charming desciqpons of Afiican experience that have come The work does not contain a dull page. It is a sparkling little
book of whidt k wovJd be difficult t-o spea~k^^ t._o_^o_ Th.Tig.. h^llym-. *"*--LT o^.nd_o/ n A~ik- eneevm.
and it|4fi<" fttiiBKrt^on awthor chats delightfully of the
tags oa her husbands farm of twelve thousand acres in the Karroo efCaaeCatary. . ,.. The reader will peruse every page wiih keen enjoya*d wff ieel graternl adauration for the clever, plucky, womanly woman who
"--New York Sun.

The authorsstyie is fcosstpr, and she has a srrse

0<

Oat aids greatly in making b*r book readable.

She - to write without an effort, as if she erjoytfd

h;

have gone thro-i?h the first chapter we

friends, so dot when the final chapter

we part with die authoress with sincere regret."

lie at.

. -.

boot o/its kind. . . . Mrs. Martin joins to a great love of nature, both
WHPVHMCflnw.**^ aafwn%d* Aa. ra*rve decsacrrfinpnt^ivvef feHc<hh*cyjr. f theop He, bol^ above atf, of her dumb
admirable. .. . . The iflustrations are York Event

O&1R1CU CHICK.

New Yorfc :-D. APPLETON & CO , I, 3, & 5 Bond Street.