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 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**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 wi .". - 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-- 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." , 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. 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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