w^m:^m&y^ fxF-:^^^e-v*---v .,',. ://.':, , ':-, >-::::.;'j\. ' ,&/::% .'. - : - , ;--::-, , ".: , ;, ,::,.,: ^ -,. ; \ :::^' : ^ THE CHARM OF SIS POTEET JJoofclobers bftfon MINGO AND OTHER SKETCHES IN BLACK AND WHITE By JOEL CHANDLER HARRIS McKINLAY, STONE & MACKENZIE NEW YORK COPYRIGHT, I^u-t, -SY JOEL CHANDLER HARRIS COPYRIGHT, 1912, BY ESTHER LA ROSE HARRIS ALL RIGHTS RESERVED CONTENTS. PAGE MINGO : A SKETCH OF LIFE IN MIDDLE GEORGIA . 1 AT TEAGUE POTEET'S : A SKETCH OP THE HOG MOUNTAIN RANGE . . . . .37 BLUE DAVE ....... . 169 A PIECE OF LAND ....... 235 MINGO: A SKETCH OF LIFE IN MIDDLE GEORGIA. I. IN 1876, circumstances, partly accidental and partly sentimental, led me to revisit Crooked Creek Church, near the little village of Rockville, in Middle Georgia. I was amazed at the changes which a few brief years had wrought. The ancient oaks ranged roundabout remained the same, but upon everything else time had laid its hand right heavily. Even the building seemed to have shrunk; the pulpit was less massive and imposing, the darkness beyond the rafters less mysterious. The preacher had grown gray, and feebleness had taken the place of that physical vigor which 4 MINGO. was formerly the distinguishing feature of his interpretations of the larger problems of theol ogy. People I had never seen sat in the places of those I had known so well. There were only traces here and there of the old congregation, whose austere simplicity had made so deep an impression upon my youthful mind. The blooming girls of 1860 had grown into care worn matrons, and the young men had de veloped in their features the strenuous uncertainty and misery of the period of deso lation and disaster through which they had passed. Anxietv had so ground itself into their lives that a stranger to the manner might well have been pardoned for giving a sinister interpretation to these pitiable mani festations of hopelessness and unsuccess. I had known the venerable preacher inti mately in the past; but his eyes, wandering vaguely over the congregation, and resting curiously upon me, betrayed no recognition. Age, which had whitened his hair and en feebled his voice, seemed also to have given MINGO. 5 him the privilege of ignoring everything but the grave and the mysteries beyond. These swift processes of change and decay were calculated to make a profound impres sion, but my attention was called away from all such reflections. Upon a bench near the pulpit, in the section reserved for the colored members, sat an old negro man whose face was perfectly familiar. I had known him in my boyhood as Mingo, the carriage-driver and body-servant of Judge Junius Wornum. He had changed but little. His head was whiter than when I saw him last; but Ms attitude was as firm and as erect, and the evidences of his wonderful physical strength as apparent, as ever. He sat with his right hand to his chin, his strong serious face turned contemplatively toward the rafters. When his eye chanced to meet mine, a smile of recognition lit up his features, his head and body drooped forward, and his hand fell away from his face, com pleting a salutation at once graceful, pictur esque, and imposing. 6 MINGO. I have said that few evidences of change manifested themselves in Mingo; and so it seemed at first, but a closer inspection showed one remarkable change. I had known him when his chief purpose in life seemed to be to enjoy himself. He was a slave, to be sure, but his condition was no restraint upon his spirits. He was known far and wide as " Laughing Mingo," and upon hundreds of occasions he was the boon companion of the young men about Rockville in their wild escapades. Many who read this will remember the " 'possum suppers" which it was Mingo's delight to pre pare for these young men, and he counted among his friends and patrons many who af terward became distinguished both in war and in the civil professions. At these gatherings Mingo, bustling around and serving his guests, ivould keep the table in a roar with his quaint sayings and local satires in the shape of im promptu doggerel; and he would also repeat snatches of orations which he had heard in Washington when Judge Wornum was a mem- MINGO. 7 her of Congress. But his chief accomplish ments lay in the wonderful ease and fluency with which he imitated the eloquent appeals of certain ambitious members of the Rockville bar, and in his travesties of the bombastic flights of the stump-speakers of that day. It appeared, however, as he sat in the church, gazing thoughtfully and earnestly at the preacher, that the old-time spirit of fun and humor had been utterly washed out of his face. There was no sign of grief, no mark of distress, but he had the air of settled anxiety belonging to those who are tortured by an overpowering responsibility. Apparently here was an inter esting study. If the responsibilities of life are problems to those who have been trained to solve them, how much more formidable must they be to this poor negro but lately lifted to his feet! Thus my reflections took note of the pathetic associations and suggestions clustering around this dignified representative of an un fortunate race. Upon this particular occasion church services 8 MINGO. were to extend into the afternoon, and there was an interval of rest after the morning ser mon, covering the hour of noon. This interval was devoted by both old and young to the dis cussion of matters seriously practical. The members of the congregation had brought their dinner baskets, and the contents thereof were spread around under the trees in true pastoral style. Those who came unprovided were, in pursuance of an immemorial custom of the sec tion and the occasion, taken in charge by the simple and hearty hospitality of the members. Somehow I was interested in watching Mingo. As he passed from the church with the congre gation, and moved slowly along under the trees, he presented quite a contrast to the other negroes who were present. These, with the results of their rural surroundings superadded to the natural shyness of their race, hung upon the outskirts of the assembly, as though their presence was merely casual, while Mingo passed along from group to group of his white friends and acquaintances with that familiar and conn- MINGO. 9 dent air of meritorious humility and unpreten tious dignity which is associated with goodbreeding and gentility the world over. When he lifted his hat in salutation, there was no servility in the gesture; when he bent his head, and dropped his eyes upon the ground, his dig nity was strengthened and fortified rather than compromised. Both his manners and his dress retained the flavor of a social system the excep tional features of which were too often, by both friend and foe, made to stand for the system itself. His tall beaver, with its curled brim, and his blue broadcloth dress-coat, faded and frayed, with its brass buttons, bore unmistak able evidence of their age and origin; but they seemed to be a reasonable and necessary con tribution to his individuality. Passing slowly through the crowd, Mingo made his way to a double-seated buggy shielded from all contingencies of sun and rain by an. immense umbrella. Prom beneath the seat he drew forth a large hamper, and proceeded to arrange its contents upon a wide bench which stood near. 10 MINGO. While this was going on, I observed a tall, angular woman, accompanied by a bright-look ing little girl, making her way toward Mingo's buggy. The woman was plainly, even shabbily, dressed, so that the gay ribbons and flowers worn by the child were gaudy by contrast. The woman pressed forward with decision, her move ments betraying a total absence of that undulatory grace characteristic of the gentler sex, while the little girl dancing about her showed not only the grace and beauty of youth, but a certain refinement of pose and gesture calcu lated to attract attention. Mingo made way for these with ready defer ence, and after a little I saw him coming toward me. He came forward, shook hands, and re marked that he had brought me an invitation to dine with Mrs. Feratia Bivins. " Miss P'raishy 'members you, boss," he said, bowing and smiling, " en she up 'n' say she be mighty glad er yo' comp'ny ef you kin put up wid cole vittles an' po' far'; en ef you come," he added on his own account, " we like it mighty well." a. ACCEPTING the invitation, I presently found myself dining with Mrs. Bivins, and listening to her remarkable flow of small talk, while Mingo hovered around, the embodiment of ac tive hospitality. "Mingo 'lowed he'd ast you up," said Mrs. Bivins, " an' I says, says I,' Don't you be a-pesterin' the gentulmun, when you know thar's plenty er the new-issue quality ready an' a-waitin' to pull an' haul at 'im,' says I. Not that I be grudges the vittles, -- not by no means ; I hope I hain't got to that yit. But somehow er 'nother folks what hain't got no great shakes to brag 'bout gener'ly feels sorter skittish when strange folks draps in on 'em. Goodness knows, I hain't come to that pass wher' I begrudges the vittles that folks eats, bekaze anybody betweenst this an' 12 MINGO. Clinton, Jones County, Georgy, '11 tell you the Sanderses wa' n't the set to stint the'r stomachs. I was a Sanders 'fore I married, an' when I come Vay frum pa's house hit was thes like turnin' my back on a barbecue. Not by no means was I begrudgin' of the Tittles. Says I, ' Mingo,' says I, ef the gentulmun is a teetotal stranger, an' nobody else hain't got the common perliteness to ast 'im, shorely you mus' ast 'im,' says I; ' but don't go an' make no great to-do,' sajrs I, 'bekaze the little we got mightent be satisfactual to the gentulmun,' says I. What we got may be little enough, an' it may be too much, but hit's welcome." It would be impossible to convey an idea of the emphasis which Mrs. Bivins imposed upon her conversation. She talked rapidly, and yet with a certain deliberation of manner which gave a quaint interest to everything she said. She had thin gray hair, a prominent nose, firm thin lips, and eyes that gave a keen and sparkling individuality to sharp and homely features. She had evidently seen sorrow and defied it. There MINGO. 13 was no suggestion of compromise in manner or expression. Even her hospitality was uncompro mising. I endeavored to murmur my thanks to Mrs. Bivins for Mingo's thoughtfulness, but her persistent conversation drowned out such poor phrases as I could hastily frame. " Come 'ere, Pud Hon," continued Mrs. Bivins, calling the child, and trimming the demonstra tive terms of " Pudding" and " Honey " to suit all exigencies of affection, -- "come 'ere, Pud Hon, an' tell the gentulmun howdy. Gracious me ! don't be so countrified. He ain't a-gwine to bite you. No, sir, you won't fine no begrudgers mixed up with the Sanderses. Hit useter be a common sayin' in Jones, an' cle'r 'cross into Jas per, that pa would 'a' bin a rich man an' 'a' owned niggers if it had n't but 'a' bin bekase he sot his head ag'in stintin' of his stomach. That's what they useter say, -- use n't they, Mingo ? " "Dat w'at I year tell, Miss Fraishy -- sho'," Mingo assented, with great heartiness. But Mrs. Bivins's volubility would hardly wait for this perfunctory indorsement. She talked as she 14 MINGO. arranged the dishes, and occasionally she would hold a piece of crockery suspended in the air as she emphasized her words. She dropped into a mortuary strain: -- " Poor pa ! I don't never have nothin' extry an' I don't never see a dish er fried chicken but what pa pops in my mind. A better man hain't never draw'd the breath of life, -- that they hain't. An' he was thes as gayly as a kitten. When we gals 'd have comp'ny to dinner, pore pa he 'd cut his eye at me, an' up an' say, says he, ' Gals, this 'ere turkey's mighty nice, yit I 'm reely afeared you put too much inguns in the dressin'. Maybe the young men don't like 'em as good as you all does;' an' then pore pa 'd drap his knife an' fork, an' laugh tell the tears come in his eyes. Sister Prue she useter run off an' have a cry, but I let you know I was one er the kind what wa' n't so easy sot back. "I'd 'a' bin mighty glad if Pud yer had er took airter pa's famerly, but frum the tip eend er her toe nails to the toppermust ha'r of her head she's a Wornum. Hit ain't on'y thes a MINGO. 15 streak yer an' a stripe thar,-- hit's the whole bolt. I reckon maybe you know'd ole Jedge June Wornum; well, Jedge June he was Pud's ogran'pa, an' Deely Wornum was her ma. Maybe you might 'a' seed Deely when she was a school-gal." Cordelia Wornum! No doubt my astonish ment made itself apparent, for Mrs. Bivins bridled up promptly, and there was a clearly perceptible note of defiance in her tone as she proceeded. " Yes, sir-ree! An make no mistake ! Deely Wornum married my son, an' Henry Clay Bivins made 'er a good husbun', if I do have to give it out myse'f. Yes, 'ndeed! An' yit if you'd 'a' heern the rippit them Wornums kicked up, you 'd 'a' thought the pore chile' d done took 'n' run off 'long of a whole passel er high pirates frum somewheres er 'nother. In about that time the ole Jedge he got sorter fibbled up, some say in his feet, an' some say in his head; but his wife, that Em'ly Wornum, she taken on awful. I never seen her a-gwine 16 MINGO. on myse'f; not that they was any hidin' out 'mongst the Bivinses er the Sanderses,--bless you, no ! bekaze here's what wa' n't afeared er all the Wornums in the continental State er Georgy, not if they'd 'a' mustered out under the lead er ole Nick hisse'f, which I have my doubts if he wa' n't somewheres aroun'. I never seen 'er, but I heern tell er how she was a-cuttin' up. You mayn't think it, but that 'oman taken it on herse'f to call up all the niggers on the place an' give 'em her forbiddance to go an' see the'r young mistiss." "Yit I lay dey tuck'n' sneak 'roun' en come anyhow, ain't dey, Miss F'raishy ?" inquired Mingo, rubbing his hands together and smiling blandly. " That they did, -- that they did ! " was Mrs. Bivins's emphatic response. " Niggers is nig gers, but them Wornum niggers was a cut er two 'bove the common run. I'll say that, an' I'll say it on the witness stan'. Freedom might 'a' turned the'r heads when it come to t' other folks, but hit did n't never turn the'r MINGO. 17 heads 'bout the'r young mistiss. An' if Mingo here hain't done his juty 'cordin' to his lights, then I dunner what juty is. I '11 say that open an' above-board, high an' low." The curious air of condescension which Mrs. Bivins assumed as she said this, the tone of apology which she employed in paying this tribute to Mingo and the Wornum negroes, formed a remarkable study. Evidently she desired me distinctly to understand that in. applauding these worthy colored people she was in no wise compromising her own dignity. Thus Mrs. Bivins rattled away, pausing only long enough now and then to deplore my lack of appetite. Meanwhile Mingo officiated around the improvised board with gentle affability; and the little girl, bearing strong traces of her lineage in her features, -- a resemblance which was confirmed by a pretty little petulance of temper, -- made it convenient now and again to convey a number of tea cakes into Mingo's hat, which happened to be sitting near, the conveyance taking place in spite of laughable 2 18 MINGO. pantomimic protests on the part of the old man ranging from appealing nods and grimaces to indignant gestures and frowns. " When Deely died," Mrs. Bivins went on, waving a towel over a tempting jar of preserves, " they wa' n't nobody but what was afeared to break it to Emily Wornum, an' the pore chile 'd done been buried too long to talk about before her ma heern tell of it, an' then she drapped like a clap er thunder had hit 'er. Airter so long a time, Mingo thar he taken it 'pun hisse'f to tell 'er, an' she flopped right down in 'er tracks, an' Mingo he hepped 'er into the house, an', bless your life, when he come to he'p 'er out 'n it, she was a changed 'oman. 'T wa' n't long 'fore she taken a notion to come to my house, an' one mornin' when I was a-washin' up dishes, I heern some un holler at the gate. an' thar sot Mingo peerched up on the Wornum carry-all, an' of all livin' flesh, who should be in thar but ole Emily Wornum! " Hit's a sin to say it," continued Mrs. Bivins, smiling a dubious little smile that was not with- MINGO. 19 out its serious suggestions, " but I tightened up my apern strings, an' flung my glance aroun' ' tell hit drapped on the battlin'-stick, bekaze I flared up the minnit I seen 'er, -an' I says to myse'f, says I,' If hit's a fracas you er huntin', my lady, I lay you won't hafter put on your specs to fine it.' An' $ien I says to Pud, says I,-- < Pur! 2on, go in the shed-room thar, chile, an' if you hear anybody a-hollerin' an' a-squallin' ther', shet your eyeleds an' grit your teeth, bekaze hit'11 be your pore ole granny a-tryin' to git even with some er your kin.' " An' then I taken a cheer an' sot down by the winder. D'reckly in come Emily Wornum, an' I wish I may die if I 'd 'a' know'd 'er if I'd saw 'er anywheres else on the face er the yeth. She had this 'ere kinder dazzled look what wimmen has airter they bin baptized in the water. I helt my head high, but I kep' my eye on the battlin'-stick, an' if she'd 'a' made fight, I'd be boun' they'd 'a' bin some ole sco'es settled then an' thar if ole sco'e-a 20 MINGO. ken be settled by a frailin'. But, bless your heart, they wa' n't never no cammer 'oman than what Emily Wornum was; an' if you 'd 'a' know'd 'er, an' Mingo wa' n't here to bjar me out, I wish I may die if I would n't be afeared to tell you how ca'm an' supjued that 'oman was, which in her young days she was a tarrifier. She up an' says, says she,-- "' Is Mizzers Bivins in ?' "' Yessum,' says I, ' she is that-away. An' more 'n that, nobody don't hafter come on this hill an' holler more'n twicet 'thout gittin' sonae kinder answer back. Yessum! An' what's more, Mizzers Bivins is come to that time er life when she's mighty proud to git calls from the big-bugs. If I had as much perliteness, ma'am, as I is cheers, I'd ast you to set down,' says I. " She stood thar, she did, thes as cool as a cowcumber; but d'reckly she ups an' says, says she,-- "' Might I see my little gran.'chile ?' says she. MINGO. 21 "' Oho, ma'am !' says I; ' things is come to a mighty purty pass when quality folks has to go frum house to house a-huntin' up pore white trash, an' a-astin' airter the'r kin. Tooby shore! tooby shore ! Yessum, a mighty purty pass,' says I." I cannot hope to give even a faint intima tion of the remarkable dramatic fervor and earnestness of this recital, nor shall I attempt to describe the rude eloquence of attitude and expression; but they seemed to represent the real or fancied wrongs of a class, and to spring from the pent-up rage of a century. " I wa' n't lookin' fer no compermise, nuther," Mrs. Bivins continued. " I fully spected 'er to flar' up an' fly at me; but 'stedder that, she kep' ,a-stan'in' thar lookin' thes like folks does when they er runnin' over sump'n in the'r min'. Then her eye lit on some er the pictur's what Deely had hung up on the side er the house, an' in pertic'lar one what some er the Wornum niggers had fetched 'er, whar a great big dog was a-vatchin' by a little bit er baby. 22 MINGO. When she seen that, bless your soul, she thes sunk right down on the floor, an' clincht 'er han's, an' brung a gasp what looked like it might er bin the last, an' d'reckly she ast, in a whisper, says she,-- "' Was this my dear daughter's room ?' " Maybe you think," said Mrs. Bivins, regard ing me coldly and critically, and pressing her thin lips more firmly together, if that could be, --" maybe you think I oughter wrung my han's, an' pitied that 'oman kneelin' thar in that room whar all my trouble was born an' bred. Some folks would 'a' flopped down by 'er, an' I won't deny but what hit come over me; but the nex' minnit hit flashed acrost me as quick an' hot as powder how she'd 'a' bin a-houndin' airter me an' my son, an' a-treatin' us like as we 'd 'a' bin the offscourin's er creation, an' how she cast off her own daugh ter, which Deely was as good a gal as ever draw'd the breath er life, -- when all this come over me, hit seem like to me that I could n't keep my paws off 'n 'er. I hope the Lord '11 forgive MINGO. 23 me,--that I do,--but if hit hadn't but 'a' bin for my raisin', I 'd 'a' jumped at Emily "Wornum an' V spit in 'er face an' 'a' clawed *er eyes out'ii 'er. An' yit, with ole Nick a-tuggin' at me, I was a Christun 'nuff to thank the Lord that they was a tender place in that pore mizerbul creetur's soul-case. " When I seen her a-kneelin' thar, with 'er year-rings a-danglin' an' 'er fine feathers atossin' au' a-trimblin', leetle more an' my thoughts would 'a' sot me afire. I riz an' I stood over her, an' I says, says I,-- "' Emily Wornum, whar you er huntin' the dead you oughter hunted the livin'. What's betwix' you an' your Maker I can't tell,' says I,' but if you git down on your face an' lick the dirt what Deely Bivins walked on, still you won't be humble enough for to go whar shes gone, nor good enough nuther. She died right yer while you was a-traipsin' an' a-trollopin' roun' frum pos' to pillar a-upholdin' your quality idees. These arms belt 'er,' says I, 'an' ef hit hadn't but 'a' bin for her. 24 MINGO. Emily Wornum,' says I, 'I'd 'a' strangled the life out 'n you time your shadder darkened my door. An' what's more,' says I, ' ef you er come to bother airter Pud, thes make the trial of it. Thes so much as lay the weight er your little finger on er, says I, an Ill grab you l>y the goozle an far your haslet out, says I." Oh, mystery of humanity! It was merely Mrs. Feratia Bivins who had been speaking, but the voice was the voice of Tragedy. Its eyes shone; its fangs glistened and gieamed; its hands clutched the air; its tone was husky with suppressed fury; its rage would have stormed the barriers of the grave. In another moment Mrs. Bivins was brushing the crumbs from her lap, and exchanging salutations with her neighbors and acquaintances; and a little later, leading her grandchild by the hand, she was making her way back to the church, where the congregation had begun to gather. m. FOB my own part, I preferred to remain under the trees, and I soon found that this was uhe preference of Mingo. The old man had finished his dinner, and sat at the foot of 'a gigantic oak, gazing dreamily at the fleecy clouds that sailed across the sky. His hands were clasped above his head, and his attitude was one of reflection. The hymn with which the afternoon services were opened came through the woods with a distinctness that wa,s not without a remote and curious suggestion of pathos. As it died away, Mingo raised himself slightly, and said, in a tone that was intended to be explanatory, if not apologetic, -- "Miss F'raishy, ef she ain't one sight, den I ain't never seed none. I s'pec' it seem sor ter funny ter you, boss, but dat w'ite 'oman done had lots er trouble; she done had bun- 26 MINGO. nunce er trouble -- she sholy is! Look mighty cu'us dat some folks can't git useter yuther folks w'at got Ferginny ways, but dat's Miss F'raishy up en down. Dat's her, sho'! Ole Miss en ole Marster dey had Ferginny ways, en Miss F'raishy she wouldn't 'a' stayed in a ten-acre neP wid um, -- dat she would n't. Folks w'at got Ferginny ways, Miss F'raishy she call um big-bugs, en she git hostile w'en she year der name call. Hit's de same way wid niggers. Miss F'raishy she hate de com mon run er niggers like dey wuz pizen. Yit I ain't makin' no complaints, kaze she mighty good ter me. I goes en I suns myse'f in Miss F'raishy back peazzer all day Sundays, w'en dey ain't no meetin's gwine on, en all endurin' er de week I hangs 'roun' en ploughs a little yer, en hoes a little dar, en scratches a little yander, en looks arter ole Miss' gran'chile. But des let 'n'er nigger so much ez stick der chin cross de yard palin's, en, bless yo' soul, you'll year Miss F'raishy blaze out like de woods done cotch afire." MINGO. 27 Mingo paused here to chuckle over the dis comfiture and alarm of the imaginary negro who had had the temerity to stick his supposititious chin over the fence. Then he went on : -- "I dunner whar Miss F'raishy git de notion 'bout all them jewlarkers, an' airter she 'uz gone, I sot down an' had a good cry. I sot right flat whar' I wuz, an' had a good cry." And then the old woman fell to crying softly at the remembrance of it, and those who had listened to her story cried with her. And nar row as their lives were, the memory of the girl seemed to sweeten and inspire all who sat around the wide hearth that night at Teague Poteet's. BLUE DAVE. BLUE DAVE. I. THE atmosphere of mystery that surrounds the Kendrick Place in Putnam County is illusive, of course; but the illusion is perfect. The old house, standing a dozen yards from the roadside, is picturesque with the contrivances of neglect and decay. Through a door hanging loose upon its hinges the passer-by may behold the evi dences of loneliness and gloom, -- the very em bodiment of desolation, -- a void, a silence, that is almost portentous. The roof, with its crop of quaint gables, in which proportion has been sacrificed to an effort to attain architectural live liness, is covered with a greenish-gray moss on the north side, and has long been given over to decay on all sides. The cat-squirrels that occa- 172 BLUE DAVE. sionally scamper across the crumbling shingles have as much as they can do, with all their nimbleness, to find a secure foothold. The huge wooden columns that support the double veranda display jagged edges at top and bottom, and no longer make even a pretence of hiding their grim hollowness. The well, hospitably placed within arm's reach of the highway, for the bene fit of the dead and buried congregation that long ago met and worshipped a,t Bethesda meeting house, is stripped of windlass, chain, and bucket. All the outhouses have disappeared, if they ever had an existence; and nothing remains to tell the story of a flourishing era, save a fig-tree which is graciously green and fruitful in season. This fig-tree has grown to an extraordinary height, and covers a large area with its canopy of limbs and leaves, giving a sort of Oriental flavor to the illusion of mystery and antiquity. It is said of this fig-tree that sermons have been preached and marriages solemnized under its wide-spreading branches; and there is a vague tradition to the effect that a duel was once BLUE DAVE. 173 fought in its shadow by some of the hot-bloods. But no harm will come of respectfully but firmly doubting this tradition; for it is a fact, common to both memory and observation, that duels, even in the old days, when each and every one of us was the pink of chivalry and the soul of honor, were much rarer than the talk of them. Nevertheless, the confession may be made that without such a tradition a fig-tree surrounded by so many evidences of neglect and decay would be a tame affair indeed. The house, with its double veranda, its tall chimneys, and its curious collection of gables, was built as late as 1836 by young Felix Kendrick, in order, as Grandsir Kendrick declared, to show that " some folks was as good as other folks." Whether Felix succeeded in this or not, it is impossible to gather from either local his tory or tradition; but there is no doubt that the house attracted attention, for its architectural liveliness has never to this day been duplicated in that region. In those days the Kendrick fam ily was a new one, so to speak, but ambitious. 174 BLUE DAVE. Grandsir Kendrick -- a fatal title in itself -- was a hatter by trade, who had come to Georgia in search of a precarious livelihood. He obtained permission to build him a little log hut by the side of a running stream; and, for a year or two, people going along the road could hear the snap and twang of his bow-string as he whipped wool or rabbit fur into shape. Some said he was from North Carolina; others said he was from Connec ticut ; but whether from one State or the other, what should a hatter do away off in the woods in Putnam County ? Grandsir Kendrick, who was shrewd, close-fisted, and industrious, did what any sensible man would have done; he became an overseer. In this business, which required no capital, he developed considerable executive abil ity. The plantations he had charge of paid large profits to their owners, and he found his good management in demand. He commanded a large salary, and saved money. This money he in vested in negroes, buying one at a time and hir ing them out. He finally came to be the owner of seven or eight stout field hands; whereupon BLUE DAVE. 175 he bought two hundred acres of choice land and set himself up as a patriarch. Grandsir Kendrick kept to his sober ways, continued his good management, and, in the midst of much shabbiness, continued to put aside money in the shape of negroes. He also reared a son who contrived somehow to have higher notions than his father. These notions of young Felix Kendrick were confirmed and enlarged by his marriage to the daughter of a Methodist circuit-rider. This young lady had been pinched by poverty often enough to know the value of economy, while the position of her father had given her advantages which the most fortunate young ladies of that day might have envied. In short, Mrs. Felix turned out to be a very superior woman in all respects. She was proud as well as pretty, and managed to hold her own with the element which Grandsir Ken drick sometimes dubiously referred to as " the quality." The fact that Mrs. Felix's mother was a Barksdale probably had something to do with her energy and tact; but whatever the cause of 176 BLUE DAVE. her popularity may have been, Grandsir Kendrick was very proud of Ms son's wife. He had no sympathy with, and no part in, her high notions; but their manifestation afforded him the spectacle of an experience entirely foreign to his own. Here was his son's wife stepping high, and compelling his son to step high. So far as Grandsir Kendrick was concerned, however, it was merely a spectacle. To the day of his death, he never ceased to higgle over a thrip, and it was his constant boast that in his own ex perience it had always been convenient to give prudence the upper hand of pride. In 1850 the house was not showing many signs of decay, but young Mrs. Felix had become the Widow Kendrick, her daughter Kitty had grown to be a beautiful young woman, and her son Felix was a lad of remarkable promise. The loss of her husband was a great blow to Mrs. Kendrick. With all her business qualities, her affection for her family and her home was strongly marked, and her husband stood first as the head and centre of each. Felix Kendrick BLUE DAVE. 177 died in the latter part of November, 1849, and his widow made him a grave under the shadow of a tree he had planted when a boy, and in full view of her window. The obsequies were very simple. A prayer was said, and a song was sung ; that was all. But it was understood that the funeral sermon would be preached at the house by Mrs. Kendrick's brother, who was on his way home from China, where he had been engaged in converting (to use a neighborhood phrase) the " squinch-eyed heathen." The weeks went by, and the missionary brother returned; and one Sunday morning in February it was given out at Bethesda that " on the first Sabbath after the second Tuesday in March, the funeral sermon of Brother Felix Kendrick will be preached at the house by Brother Garwood." On the morning of this particular Sunday, which was selected because it did not conflict with the services of the Be thesda congregation, two neighbors met in the forks of the public road that leads to Rockville. Bach had come from a different direction. One 12 178 BLUE DAVE. was riding and one was walking; and both were past the middle time of life. "Well met, Brother Roach!" exclaimed the man on horseback. "You've took the words from my mouth, Brother Brannum. I hope you are well. I'm peart myself, but not as peart as I thought I was, bekaze I find that the two or three miles to come is sticking in my craw." " Ah, when it comes to that, Brother Roach," said the man on horseback, " you and me can be one another's looking-glass. Look on me and you '11 see what time has done for you." " Not so, Brother Brannum! Not so!" ex claimed the other. " There's some furrows on your forrud, and a handful of bird-tracks below your eyes that would ill become me; and I 'm plumper in the make-up, you '11 allow." "Yes, yes, Brother Johnny Roach," said Brother Brannum, frowning a little; " but what of that ? Death takes no time to feel for wrin kles and furrows, and nuther does plumpness stand in the way. Look at Brother Felix Ken- BLUE DAVE. 179 irick, -- took off in the very pulse and power of his prime, you may say. Yet, Providence permitting, I am to hark to his funeral to day." " Why, so am I, --so am I," exclaimed Brother Roach. " We seem to agree, Brother Brannum, like the jay-bird and the joree, -- one in the tree and t' other on the ground." Brother Brannum's grim sense of superiority showed itself in his calm smile. " Yet I '11 not deny," continued Brother Roach, flinging his coat, which he had been carrying on his arm, across his shoulder, "that sech dis courses go ag'in the grain. It frets me in the mind for to hear what thundering great men folks git to be arter they are dead, though I hope we may both follow suit, Brother Brannum." " But how, Brother Johnny Roach ? " " Why, by the grace of big discourses, Brother Brannum. There's many a preacher could close down the Bible on his hankcher and make our very misdeeds smell sweet as innocence. It's all in the lift of the eyebrow, and the gesticures 180 BLUE DAVE. of the hand. So old Neighbor Harper says, and he's been a lawyer and a schoolmaster in his day and time." " Still," said Brother Brannum, as if acknowl edging the arguments, " I think Sister Kendrick is jestified in her desires." " Oh, yes,--oh, yes!" replied Brother Roach, heartily; "none more so. Felix Kendrick's ways is in good shape for some preacher wi' a glib tongue. Felix was a good man; he wanted his just dues, but not if to take them would hurt a man. He was neighborly; who more so? And, sir, when you got to rastlin' wi' trouble, he 'd find you and fetch you out. I only hope the Chinee preacher '11 be jedgmatical enough for to let us off wi' the simple truth." " They say," said Brother Brannum, " that he's a man full of grace and fire." "Well, sir," said Johnny Eoach, "if he but makes me disremember that I left the bay mar' at home, I'll thank him kindly." "Mercy, Brother Eoach," exclaimed Brother Brannum, taking this as a neighborly hint, BLUE DAVE. 181 "mount up here and rest yourself, whilst I stretch my legs along this level piece of ground." " I 'd thank you kindly, Brother Brannmn, if you would n't so misjudge me. It's my will to walk; but if I git my limbs sot to the saddle here and now, they'd ache and crack might'ly when next I called upon 'em. I '11 take the will for the deed, Brother Brannum." Thus these neighbors jogged along to Felix Kendrick's funeral. They found a great crowd ahead of them when they got there, though they were not too late for the services; but the house was filled with sympathetic men and women, and those who came late were compelled to find such accommodations as the yard afforded; and these accommodations were excellent in their way, for there was the cool, green grass under the trees, and there were the rustic seats in the shadow of the fig-tree of which mention has been made. Coming together, Brother Brannum and Brother Roach stayed together; and they, soon 182 BLUE DAVE. found themselves comfortably seated under the fig-tree, -- a point of view from which they could observe everything that was going on. Brother Brannum, who was a pillar of Bethesda church and extremely officious withal, seemed to regret that he had not arrived soon enough to find a place in the house near the preacher, but Brother Eoach appeared to congratulate himself that he had been crowded out of ear-shot. " We can set here," he declared in great goodhumor, " and hear the singing, and then whirl in and preach each man his own sermon. I know better than the furrin preacher what 'd be satisfactual to Felix Kendrick. I see George Denham sailing in and out and flying around; and if the pinch comes, as come it must, Brother Brannum, we can up and ast George for to fetch us sech reports as a hongry man can stomach." Brother Brannum frowned heavily, but madeno response. Presently Brother Eoach beck oned to the young man whom he had called George Denham. " Howdy, George! How is BLUE DAVE. 183 Kitty Kendrick? Solemn as the season is, George, I lay 'twould be wrong for to let Beauty pine." The young man suppressed a smile, and raised his hands in protest. " Uncle Johnny! to joke me at such a time! I shall go to-morrow and cut your mill-race, and you will never know who did it." " Ah, George! if death changes a man no more 'n they say it does, little does Felix Ken drick need to be holp by these dismal takingson. From first to last, he begrudged no man his banter. But here we are and yan's the preacher. The p'int wi' me, George, is, how kin we-all setting on the back seats know when the preacher gits to his ' amen,' onless his expoundance is too loud to be becoming ? " " Come, now, Uncle Johnny," said young Denham, "no winking, and I'll tell you. I was talking to Miss Kitty just now, and all of a sudden she cried out, ' Why, yonder's Uncle Johnny Roach, and he 's walking, too. Uncle Johnny must stay to dinner;' and Mrs. Ken- 184 BLUE DAVE. drick says, 'Yes, and Brother Brannum, too.' And so there you are." " Well, sir," exclaimed Brother Roach, " Kitty always had a piece of my heart, and now she has it all." " A likely young man, that George Denham," said Brother Brannum, as Denham moved to wards the house. " You never spoke a truer word, Brother Brannum," said Brother Eoach, enthusiastically. " Look at his limbs, look at his gait, look at his eye. If the world, the flesh, and the devil don't freeze out his intents, you'll hear from that chap. He's a-gitting high up in the law, and where'11 you find a better managed plantation than his'n ?" What else Brother Roach said or might have said must be left to conjecture. In the midst of his eulogy on the Hying, the preacher in the house began his eulogy of the dead. Those who heard what he said were much edified, and those who failed to hear made a decorous pretence of listening intently. In the midst of the sermon BLUE DAVE. 185 Brother Eoach felt himself touched on the arm. Looking up, he saw that Brother Brannum was gazing intently at one of the gables on the roof. Following the direction of Brother Brannum's eyes, Brother Eoach beheld, with astonishment not unmixed with awe, the head and shoulders of a powerfully built negro. The attitude of the negro was one of attention. He was evi dently trying to hear the sermon. His head was bent, and the expression of his face was indicative of great good-humor. His shirt was ragged and dirty, and had fallen completely away from one arm and shoulder, and the bil lowy muscles glistened in the sun. While Brother Brannum and Brother Eoach were gaz ing at him with some degree of amazement, an acorn dropped upon the roof from one of the tall oaks. Startled by the sudden noise, the negro glanced hurriedly around, and dropped quickly below the line of vision. " Well, well, well!" exclaimed Brother Eoach, after exchanging a look of amazement with Brother Brannum. " Well, well, well! Who 'd 186 BLUE DAVE. V thought it. Once 'twas the nigger in the woodpile; now it's the nigger in the steeple, and arter awhile they '11 be a-flying in the air, -- mark my words. I call that the impidence of the Old Boy. Maybe you don't know that nig ger, Brother Brannum ? " " I disremember if I do, Brother Eoach." " Well, sir, when one of 'em passes in front of your Uncle Johnny, you may up and sw'ar his dagarrytype is took. That nigger, roosting up there so slick and cool, is Bledser's Blue Dave. Nuther more, nuther less." " Bledser's Blue Dave!" exclaimed Brother Brannum in a voice made sepulchral by amaze ment. " The identical nigger! I 'd know him if I met him arm-in-arm with the King and Queen of France." " Why, I thought Blue Dave had made his disappearance five year ago," said Brother Brannum. " Well, sir, my two eyes tells me different. Time and time ag'in I've been told he's a BLUE DAVE. 187 quare creetur. Some say he's strong as a horse and venomous as a snake. Some say he's swifter than the wind and slicker than a red fox. And many's the time by my own h'a'thstone I 've had to pooh-pooh these relations ; yet there's no denying that for mighty nigh seven year that nigger's been trolloping round through the woods foot-loose and scotch-free, bidding defiance to the law of the State and Bill Brand's track dogs." " Well, sir," said Brother Brannum, fetching his hand down on his knee with a thwack, " we ought to alarm the assemblage." " Jes so," replied Brother Roach, with some thing like a chuckle; " but you forgit the time and the occasion, Brother Brannum. I'm a worldly man myself, as you may say, but't will be long arter I'm more worldlier than what I am before you can ketch me cuttin' sech a scol lop as to wind up a funeral sermon wi' a race arter a runaway nigger." Brother Brannum agreed with this view, but it was with a poor grace. He had a vague re- 188 BLUE DAVE. membrance of certain rewards that had from time to time been offered for the capture of Blue Dave, and he was anxious to have a hand in securing at least a part of these. But he re frained from sounding the alarm. With Brother Roach, he remained at the Kendrick Place after the sermon was over, and took dinner. He rode off shortly afterwards, and the next day Bill Brand and his track dogs put in an appear ance ; but Blue Dave was gone. It was a common thing to hear of fugitive negroes; but Blue Dave (so called because of the inky blackness of his skin) had a name and a fame that made him the terror of the women and children, both white and black; and Kitty Kendrick and her mother were not a little dis turbed when they learned that he had been in hiding among the gables of their house. The negro's success in eluding pursuit caused the ignorant-minded of both races to attribute to him the possession of some mysterious power. He grew into a legend; he became a part of the folk-lore of the section. According to popular BLUE DAVE. 189 belief, he possessed strange powers and great courage; lie became a giant, a spirit of evil. Women frightened their children into silence by calling his name, and many a youngster crept to bed in mortal fear that Blue Dave would come in the night and whisk him away into the depths of the dark woods. Whatever mischief was done was credited to Blue Dave. If a horse was found in the lot spattered with mud, Blue Dave had ridden it; if a cow was crippled, a hog missing, or a smoke-house robbed, Blue Dave was sure to be at the bot tom of it all, so far as popular belief was con cerned. The negroes had many stories to tell of him. One had seen him standing by a tall poplar-tree. He was about to speak to him when there came a flash of lightning and a crash of thunder, and Blue Dave disappeared, leaving a sulphurous smell behind him. He had been seen by another negro. He was standing in the middle of the Armour's Perry road. He was armed with a gleaming reap-hook, and accompanied by a big black dog. As soon as 190 BLUE DAVE. the dog saw the new-comer, it bristled up from head to foot, its eyes shone like two coals of fire, and every hair on its back emitted a fiery spark. Very little was known of the history of Blue Dave. He was brought to the little village of Eockville in chains in a speculator's train, -- the train consisting of two Conestoga wagons and thirty or forty forlorn-looking negroes. The speculator explained that he had manacled Blue Dave because he was unmanageable; and he put him on the block to sell him after making it perfectly clear to everybody that whoever bought the negro would get a bad bargain. Nevertheless Blue Dave was a magnificent specimen of manhood, straight as an arrow, as muscular as Hercules, and with a countenance as open and as pleasant as one would wish to see. He was bought by General Alfred Bledser, and put on his River Place. He worked well for a few weeks, but got into trouble with the overseer, and finally compromised matters by taking to the woods. He seemed born for this particular business j for the track dogs failed BLUE DAVE. 191 to find him, and all the arts and artifices em ployed for capturing and reclaiming runaways failed in his case. It was a desperate sort of freedom he enjoyed; but he seemed suited to it, and he made the most of it. As might be supposed, there was great com motion in the settlement, and particularly at the Kendriek homestead, when it was known that Blue Dave had been hiding among the gabies of the Kendriek house. Mrs. Kendriek and her daughter Kitty possessed their full share of what Brother Eoach would have called " spunk;" but there is a large and very important corner of the human mind -- particularly if it hap pens to be a feminine mind -- which devotes itself to superstition; and these gentle ladies, while they stood in no terror of Blue Dave as a runaway negro simply, were certainly awed by the spectral figure which had grown up out of common report. The house negroes stood in mortal dread of Blue Dave, and their dismay was not without its effect upon Mrs. Kendriek and her daughter. Jenny, the house-girl, re- 192 BLUE DAVE. fused to sleep at the quarters; and when Aunt Tabby, the cook, started for her cabin after dark, she was accompanied by a number of little ne groes bearing lightwood torches. All the sto ries and legends that clustered around Blue Dave's career were brought to the surface again; and, as we have seen, the great majority of them were anything but reassuring. 11. WHILE the commotion in the settlement and on the Kendrick Place was at its height, an in cident occurred that had a tendency to relieve Kitty Kendrick's mind. Shortly after the fu neral the spring rains had set in, and for sev eral days great floods came down from the skies. One evening shortly after dark, Kitty Kendrick stepped out upon the veranda, in an aimless sort of way, to look at the clouds. The rain had ceased, but the warm earth was reeking with moisture. The trees and the ground were smoking with fog, and great banks of vapor were whirling across the sky from the south west. Kitty sighed. After a while George Denham would go rattling by in his buggy from his law office in Rockville to his plantation, and it was too dark to catch a glimpse of him. At 13 194 BLUE DAVE. any rate, she would do the best she could. She would put the curtains of the sitting-room back, so the light could shine out, and perhaps George would stop to warm his hands and say a word to her mother. Kitty turned to go in when she heard her name called,-- "Miss Kitty!" "Well, what is it?" Kitty was startled a little in spite of herself. "Please, ma'am, don't be skeer'd." "Why should I be frightened? What do you want?" " Miss Kitty, I des come by fer ter tell you dat Murder Creek done come way out er its banks, en ef Mars. George Denham come by w'en he gwine on home, I wish you please, ma'am, be so good ez ter tell 'im dat dey ain't no fordin' place fer ter be foun' dar dis night." The voice was that of a negro, and there was something in the tone of it that arrested Kitty Kendrick's attention. "Who sent you?" she asked. BLUE DAVE. 195 u Nobody ain't sont me; I des come by myse'f. I laid off fer ter tell Mars. George, but I year talk he mighty headstrong, en I speck he des laugh at me." " Are you one of our hands ?" " No, 'm; I don't b'long on de Kendrick Place." " Come out of the shadow there where I can see you." " I mos' fear'd, Miss Kitty." " What is your name ? " " Dey calls me Blue Dave, ma'am." The tone of the voice was something more than humble. There was an appeal in it for mercy. Kitty Kendrick recognized this; but in spite of it she could scarcely resist an im pulse to rush into the house, lock the door, and take steps to rouse the whole plantation. By a great effort she did resist it, and the negro went on: -- " Please, ma'am, don't be skeer'd er me, Miss Kitty. De Lord years me w'en I say it, dey ain't a ha'r er yo' head dat I'd hurt, dat dey 196 BLUE DAVE. ain't. I ain't bad like dey make out I is, Miss Kitty. Dey tells some mighty big tales, but dey makes um up dey se'f. Manys en manys de time is I seed you w'en you gwine atter sweet-gum en w'en you huntin' flowers, en I allers say ter myse'f, I did, ' Nobody better not pester Miss Kitty w'iles Blue Dave anywhars 'reran'.' Miss Kitty, I 'clar' 'fo' de Lord I ain't no bad nigger," Blue Dave continued in a tone of the most emphatic entreaty. "You des as yo' little br'er. Little Mars. Felix, he knows I ain't no bad nigger." " Why don't you go home, instead of hiding out in the woods ? " said Kitty, striving to speak in a properly indignant tone. " Bless yo' soul, Miss Kitty, hit ain't no home fer me," said Blue Dave, sadly. " Hit mought be a home fer some niggers, but hit ain't no home fer me. I year somebody comin'. Good-by, Miss Kitty ; don't fergit 'bout Mars. George." As noiselessly as the wind that faintly stirs the grass, Blue Dave glided away in the dark- BLUE DAVE. 197 ness, leaving Kitty Kendrick standing upon the veranda half frightened and wholly puzzled. Her little brother Felix came out to see where she had gone. Felix was eight years old, and had views of his own. " Sister Kit, what are you doing ? Watching for Mr. George to go by?" "Don't speak to me, you naughty boy!" ex claimed Kitty. "You've disgraced us all. You knew Blue Dave was hiding on top of the house all the while. What would be done with us if people found out we had been harboring a runaway negro ? " Kitty pretended to be ter ribly shocked. Felix gave a long whistle, in dicative of astonishment. " You are awful smart," he said. " How did you find that out ? Yes, I did know it," he went on desperately, " and I don't care if I did. If you tell anybody, I '11 never run up the road to see if Mr. George is coming as long as I live; I won't never do anything for you." Kitty's inference was based on what Blue Dave had said; but it filled her with dismay 198 BLUE DAVE. to find it true. She caught the child by the shoulder and gave him a little shake. " Brother Felix, how dare you do such a thing ? If mother knew of it, it would break her heart." " Well, go and tell her and break her heart," said the boy, sullenly. "It wasn't my fault that Blue Dave was up there. I didn't tote him up, I reckon." " Oh, how could you do such a thing ? " re iterated Kitty, putting her handkerchief to her eyes, as if by this means to expiate her brother's folly. "Well," said the child, still speaking sul lenly, " I heard something moving on top of the house one day when I was in the garret, and I kept on hearing it until I opened the window and went out on the roof. Then, when I got out there, I saw a great big nigger man." " Were n't you frightened ?" exclaimed Kitty, catching her breath. " What did you say ? " " I said ' Hello!' and then he jumped like he BLUE DAVE. 199 was shot. I asked him his name, and he said he was named Blue Dave, and he begged me so hard I promised not to tell he was up there. And then, after that, he used to come in the garret and tell me no end of tales, and I 've got a trunk full of chestnuts that he brought me. He's the best nigger man I'ever saw, less'n it's old Uncle Manuel, and he '11 be as good as Uncle Manuel when he gets that old, 'cause Uncle Manuel said so. And I know it ain't my fault; and if you want to tell mother you can come and tell her right now, and then you won't never be my sister any more, never, never!" " I think you have acted shamefully," said Kitty. " Suppose he had come in the garret, and made his way downstairs, and murdered us all while we were asleep." "Well," said Felix, "he could have come any time. I wouldn't be afraid to go out in the woods and stay with Blue Dave this very night, and if I had my way he wouldn't be run ning from old Bill Brand and his dogs. When 200 BLUE DAVE. I get a man I'm going to save up money and buy Blue Dave. I thought at first I wanted a pony, but I wouldn't have a pony now." While they were talking, Kitty heard the rat tle of buggy wheels. The sound came nearer and nearer. Whoever was driving was singing to pass the time away, and the quick ear of Kitty recognized the voice of George Denham. He went dashing by; but he must have seen the girl standing on the veranda, for he cried out, " Good-night, Miss Kitty!" and then caught up the burden of his song again as he went whirling down the road. Kitty wrung her hands. She went in to her mother with tears in her eyes. "Oh, mother! George has gone by without stopping. What shall we do ? " Mrs. Kendrick was a very practical woman. Knowing nothing of the freshet in Murder Creek, she was amazed as well as amused at Kitty's tragic attitude. " Well, it's most too soon for George to be- BLUE DAVE. 201 gin to take his meals here, I reckon," she said dryly. " You'd better make you a cup of gingertea and go to bed." "But, mother, there's a freshet in Murder Creek. Oh, why didn't he stop?" Mrs. Kendrick was kneeling on the floor cut ting out clothes for the plough-hands, --" slay ing for her niggers," as she called it. She paused in her work and looked at Kitty, as if to see whether she had heard her aright. " Well, upon my word!" she exclaimed, after critically surveying her daughter, " I don't see how girls can be so weak-minded. Many a man as good as George Denham has crossed Murder Creek in a freshet. I don't see but what he's big enough and ugly enough to take care of himself." " Oh," exclaimed Kitty, going from window to window, and vainly endeavoring to peer out into the darkness, " why did n't he stop ?" "Well," said Mrs. Kendrick, resuming the use of her shears, " if you '11 try to worry along and stand it this time, I'll send out and have 202 BLUE DAVE. a fence built across the big road, and get the niggers to light a bonfire; and we '11 stop him the next time he comes along. I '11 have to do my duty by my own children, I reckon. But don't be alarmed," she continued, perceiving that Kitty's distress was genuine. " You may have to fly around here and get George some supper, after all. I 've been waiting on niggers all day; and even if I had n't, I 'm too old and fagged out to be rushing in amongst the pots and kettles to please George Denham." George Denham rattled down the road, sing ing of " Barbara Alien," but thinking of Kitty Kendrick. Suddenly his horse shied, and then he heard somebody call him. " Mars. George! Is dat you, Mars, George ? " "Unless you want to make a ghost of me by frightening my horse," exclaimed the young man, checking the animal with some difficulty. "What do you want?" " Mars. George, is you see Miss Kitty w'en you come by des now ?" " No, I did n't stop. Is anything the matter ?" BLUE DAVE. 203 " No, sir, nothin' in 'tickler ain't de matter, 'ceppin' dat Miss Kitty had sump'n' ter tell you." " Are you one of the Kendrick negroes ? " " No, sir; I don't b'long dar." "Who are you?" " I 'clar' ter goodness, I skeer'd ter tell you, Mars. George; kaze you mought fly up en git mad." The young man laughed with such genuine heartiness that it did the negro good to hear it. " Well, I know who you are," he said ; " you are Blue Dave, and you Ve come to tell me that you want me to carry you to jail, where Bill Brand can get his hands on you." The negro was thunderstruck. " 'Fo' de Lord, Mars. George ! how you know who I is ?" " Why, I know by your looks. You Ve got horns and a club foot. That's the way the Old Boy fixes himself." " Now, Mars. George," said the negro, in a grieved tone, " ef you could see me good you wouldn't set dar en say I'm a bad-lookin' nigger." 204 BLUE DAVE. " Are you really Blue Dave ?" the young man asked, dropping his bantering tone and speaking seriously. " Yasser, Mars. George ; I 'm dat ye'y nigger." " What do you want with me ?" " I des wanter tell you, Mars. George, dat dey's a freshet come fum 'bove, en Murder Creek is 'way out'n hits banks. You can't cross dar wid no hoss en buggy dis night." The young man reflected a moment. He was more interested in the attitude of the negro than he was in the extent of the freshet or the danger of an attempt to cross the creek. " I 've a knack of crossing Murder Creek in a freshet," he said. " But why should you want to keep me out of it ? " " Well, sir, fer one thing," said Blue Dave, shifting about on his feet uneasily, "you look so much like my young marster w'at died in Ferginny. En den dat day w'en de speckerlater put me up on de block, you 'uz settin' dar strad dle er yo' pony, en you 'lowed dat he oughter BLUE DAVE. 205 be 'shame er hisse'f fer ter chain me up dat a-way." " Oh, I remember. I made quite a fool of myself that day." " Yasser; en den w'en de man say sump'n' sassy back, little ez you wuz, you spurred de pony at 'im en tole 'im you 'd slap 'im in de jaw. He 'uz de skeer'dest w'ite man I ever see. I say ter myse'f den dat I hope de day 'd come w'en dat little boy 'd grow up en buy me; en dat make I say w'at I does. I want you to keep out 'n dat creek dis night, en den I want you ter buy me. Please, sir, buy me, Mars. George; I make you de bes' nigger you ever had." " Why, great Jerusalem! you would n't be on my place a week before you 'd get your feelings hurt and rush off to the woods, and I'd never see yon any more." " Des try me, Mars. George ! des try me. I '11 work my arms off ter de elbows, en den I'll work wid de stumps. Des try me, Mars. George!" " I expect you would be a right good hand if 206 BLUE DAVE. you hadn't been free so long. Go home and let me see how you can work for your master, and then maybe I '11 think about buying you." "Eh-eh, Mars. George! I better go jump in a burnin' bresh-pile. Ain't you gwine ter tu'n back, Mars. George ? " " Not to-night. Go home and behave your self." With that George Denham clucked to his res tive horse, and went clattering down the road in the direction of Murder Creek, which crossed the highway a mile farther on. Blue Dave stood still a moment, scratching his head and looking after the buggy. " Is anybody ever see de beat er dat?" he ex claimed. "Ef Mars. George gits in dat creek dey 's got ter be a merakel come 'bout ef he gits out." He stood in the road a moment longer, still scratching his head as if puzzled. Then he addressed himself indignantly. " Looky yer, nigger, w'at you stan'in' yer fer ? Whar yo' manners, whar yo' perliteness ? " Thus, half-humorously, half-seriously, talking BLUE DAVE. . 207 to himself, Blue Dave went trotting along in the direction taken by George Denham. He moved without apparent exertion, but with amazing swiftness. But the young man in the buggy had also moved swiftly; and, go as fast as he might, Blue Dave could not hope to over take him before he reached the creek. For G-eorge Denham was impatient to get home, -- as impatient as his horse, which did not need even the lightest touch of the whip to urge it forward. He paid no attention to the famil iar road. He was thinking of pretty Kitty Kendrick, and of the day, not very far in the future he hoped, when, in going home, he should be driving towards her instead of away from her. He paid no attention to the fact that, as he neared the creek, his horse subsided from a swinging trot to a mincing gait that betrayed indecision; nor did it strike him as anything unusual that the horse should begin to splash water with his feet long before he had reached the banks of the creek; no doubt it was a pool left standing in the road after the heavy rains. 208 BLUE DAVE. But the pool steadily grew deeper; and while George Denham was picturing Kitty Kendrick sitting on one side of his fireplace and his old mother on the other, -- his old mother, with her proud face and her stately ways, -- his horse stopped and looked around. Young Denham slapped the animal with the reins, without tak ing note of his surroundings. Thus reassured, the horse went on; but the water grew deeper and deeper, and presently the creature stopped again. This time it smelt of the water and emitted the low, deeply drawn snort by which horses betray their uneasiness; and when George Denham would hare urged it forward, it struck the water impatiently with its forefoot. Aroused by this, the young man looked around; but there was nothing to warn him of his dan ger. The fence that would otherwise have been a landmark, was gone. There was no loud and angry roaring of the floods. Behind him the shifting clouds, the shining stars, and the blue patches of sky mirrored themselves duskily and vaguely in the slow creeping waters; before BLUE DAVE. . 209 him the shadows of the trees that clustered somewhere near the banks of the creek were so deep and heavy that they seemed to merge the dark waters of the flood into the gloom of the night. When the horse was quiet, peering ahead, with its sharp little ears pointed forward, there was no sound save the vague sighing of the wind through the tops of the scrub pines and the gentle ripple of the waters. As George Denham urged his horse forward, confident of his familiarity with the surround ings, Blue Dave ran up on the little ridge to the left through which the road had been cut or worn. " Mars. George!" he shouted, " don't you see wharbouts you is! Wait, Mars. George! Pull dat hoss up! " But Blue Dave was too late. As he spoke, the horse and buggy plunged into the flood, and for a moment they were lost to view. Then the struggling animal seemed to strike rising ground; but the buggy was caught in the re sistless current, and, with George Denham 14 210 BLUE DAVE. clinging to it, it dragged the horse down, and the swirling waters seemed to sweep over and beyond them. Blue Dave lost not a moment. Flinging himself into the flood from the van tage ground on which he stood, a few strokes of his sinewy arms carried him to where he saw George Denham disappear. That young man was an expert swimmer; and though the sud den immersion had taken him at a disadvantage, he would have made his way out with little dif ficulty but for the fact that a heavy piece of driftwood had been hurled against his head. Stunned, but still conscious, he was making an ineffectual attempt to reach the shore when he was caught by Blue Dave and borne safely back to land. The horse, in its struggles, had suc ceeded in tearing itself loose from the buggy, and they heard it crawl up the bank on the other side and shake itself. Blue Dave carried George Denham out of the water as one would carry a child. When he had set the young man down in a comparatively dry place, he ex claimed with a grin,-- BLUE DAVE. . 211 " Bar now. Mars. George! w'at I tell you ? Little mo' en de tarrypins would 'a' bin a-nibblin' atter you." George Denham was dazed as well as weak. He put his hand to his head and tried to laugh. " You were just in time, old fellow," he said. Then he got on his feet and' tried to walk, but he would have sunk down again but for Blue Dave's arm. "Why, I'm as weak as a stray cat," he exclaimed feebly. " Let me lie down here a moment." " Dat I won't, Mars. G-eorge! dat I won't! I tuck 'n' brung you out, en now I 'm a-gwmeter take 'nj ca'er you back dar whar Miss Kitty waitin'." " Well, you '11 have to wait until I can walk." "No, sir; I'll des squat down, en you kin crawl up on my back des like you useter play hoss." " Why, you can't carry me, old fellow; I 'm too heavy for that." " Shoo I don't you b'leeve de half er dat, Mars. 212 BLUE DAVE. George. I toted bigger turns dan w'at you is long 'fp' I had de strenk w'at I got now. Grab me 'roun' de neck, Mars. George; git up lit tle higher. Now, den, don't you be fear'd er fallin'." Blue Dave rose from his stooping posture, steadied himself a moment, and then moved on with his living burden. He moved slowly and cautiously at first, but gradually increased his pace to a swinging walk that carried him for ward with surprising swiftness. To George Denham it all seemed like a dream. He suffered no pain, and it was with a sort of queer elation of mind that he felt the huge mus cles of the negro swell and subside under him with the regularity of machinery, and knew that every movement carried him toward Kitty Kendrick and -- rest. He was strangely tired, but not otherwise uncomfortable. He felt abundantly grateful to this poor runaway negro, and thought that if he could overcome his mother's prejxidices (she had a horror of runaway ne groes) he would buy Blue Dave and make him BLUE DAVE. 213 comfortable. Thus they swung along until the negro's swift stride brought them to Mrs. Kendriek's gate. There Blue Dave deposited George Denhaxn, and exclaimed with a laugh as he leaned, against the fence,-- "You'er right smart chunk er meat, Mars. George, ez sho ez de worl'!" George Denham also leaned against the fence, but he did n't laugh. He was thinking of what seemed to him a very serious matter. "Mother will be frightened to death when that horse gets home," he said. " You go in dar en get worn, Mars. George," said Blue Dave. " I 'm gwine 'roun' by de High Bridge en tell um whar you is." "Why, you'll break yourself down/' said George Denham. " Ah, Lord, Mars. George!" said the negro, laughing, " time you bin in de woods long ez I is de four mile 'twix' yer e.- yo' house '11 look mighty short. Go in dar, Mars. George, 'fo' you git col'!" Shortly after this, Geo a;e Denham was in bed 214 BLUE DAVE. and fast asleep. He had been met at the door by Kitty Kendrick, in whose tell-tale face the blushes of that heartiest of all welcomes had chased away the pallor of dread and anxiety. Mrs. Kendrick was less sympathetic in word than in deed. She had known George Denham since he was a little boy in short clothes; and while she approved of him, and had a sort of motherly affection for him, she was disposed to be critical, as are most women who have the knack of management. " And so you 've come back dripping, have you ? Well, you ain't the first headstrong, high-strung chap that's found out water is wet when the creek blots out the big road, I reckon. I'm no duck myself. When I see water, I'm like the old cat in the corner; I always feel like shaking my foot. Kitty, call Bob and tell him to make a fire in the big room. He's asleep, I reckon, and you '11 have to holler. Set a nigger down and he's snoring directly. You look pale," Mrs. Kendrick continued, turning to George. " You must have gone in over your BLUE DAVE. 215 ears. I should think a drenching like that would take all the conceit out of a man." " Well, it has taken it all out of me, ma'am," said George, laughing. Then the young man told Mrs. Kendrick of his misadventure, and of the part Blue Dave had borne in it. " He's the nigger that roosted on top of my house," said Mrs. Felix, bustling around and putting a kettle of water on the fire. " Well, it's a roundabout way to pay. for his lodging, but it's the best he could do, I reckon. Now, don't you worry yourself, George; in ten min utes you'll be snug in bed, and then you'll drink a cup of composition tea, and to-morrow morning you'll have forgotten all about trying to make a spring branch out of Murder Creek." As the successful mistress of a household, Mrs. Keadrick knew precisely what was neces sary to be done. There was no hitch in her system, no delay in her methods, and no dis puting her remedies. George Denham was or dered to bed as if he had been a child; and though the " composition" tea was hot in the 216 BLUE DAVE. mouth, and bitter to the palate, it was useless to protest against it. As a consequence of all this, the young man was soon in the land of dreams. When everything was quiet, Kitty prepared a very substantial lunch. Then, calling her little brother Felix, she went across the yard to the quarters, and stopped at Uncle ManuePs cabin. The door was ajar, and Kitty could see the ven erable old negro nodding before the flickering embers. She went in and called his name, -- " Uncle Manuel!" "Eh! Who dat?" Then, looking around and perceiving Kitty, the old negro's weatherbeaten face shone with a broad smile of surprise and welcome. " Why, honey ! Why, little Mistiss! How come dis ? You makes de ole nig ger feel proud; dat you does. I fear'd ter ax you ter set down, honey, de cheer so rickety." " Uncle Manuel," said Kitty, " do you know Blue Dave?" Uncle Manuel was old, and wise, and cun ning. He hesitated a moment before replying j BLUE DAVE. 217 and even then his caution would not allow him to commit himself. " Blue Dave, he's dat ar runaway nigger, ain't he, honey ? I done year talk un 'im lots er times." " Well," said Kitty, placing her basket upon Uncle Manuel's tool-chest, " here is something for Blue Dave to eat. If you don't see him yourself, perhaps you can send it to him by some one." Uncle Manuel picked up the basket, weighed it in his hand, and then placed it on the chest again. Then he looked curiously at Kitty, and said, -- " Honey, how come you gwine do dis ? Ain't you year tell hit's ag'in de law fer ter feed a runaway nigger?" Kitty blushed as she thought of George Denham. "I send Blue Dave the victuals because I choose to, Uncle Manuel," she said. " The law has nothing to do with that little basket." She started to go, but Uncle Manuel raised both hands heavenwards. 218 BLUE DAVE. " Wait, little Mistiss," he cried, the tears run ning down, his furrowed face; " des wait, little Mistiss. 'T won't hurt you, honey. De ole nig ger wuz des gwine ter git down ter his pra'rs 'fo' you come in. Dey ain't no riper time dan dis." Uncle Manuel's voice was husky with sup pressed emotion. With his hands still stretched toward the skies, and the tears still running down his face, he fell upon his knees and ex claimed, -- " Saviour en Marster er de worl'! draw nigh dis night en look down into dis ole nigger's heart; lissen ter de humblest er de humble. Elessed Marster! some run wild en some go stray, some go hether en some go yan'; but all un um mus' go befo' dy mercy-seat in de een'. Some '11 fetch big works en some '11 fetch great deeds, but po' ole Manuel won't fetch nothin' but one weak, sinful heart. Dear, blessed Mars ter! look in dat heart en see w'at in dar. De sin dat's dar, Lord, blot it out wid dy wounded han'. Dear Marster, bless my little Mistiss. BLUE DAVE. 219 Her corain's en her gwin.es is des like one er dy angels er mercy ; she scatters bread en meat 'mongs' dem w'at's lonesome in der ways, en dem w'at runs up en down in de middle er big tribalation. Saviour! Marster! look down 'pon my little Mistiss; gedder her 'nead dy hev'mly wings. Ef trouble mus' come, let it come 'pon me. I 'm ole, but I 'm tough; I 'm ole, but I got de strenk. Lord! let de troubles en de trials come 'pon de ole nigger w'at kin stan' um, en save my little Mistiss fum sheddin' one tear. En den, at de las' fetch us all home ter hev'm, whar dey's res' fer de w'ary. Amen." Never in her life before had Kitty felt so thrill ing a sense of nearness to her Creator as when Uncle Manuel was offering up his simple prayer; and she went out of the humble cabin weeping gently. m. THE four-mile run to the Denham Plantation "was fun for Blue Dave. He was wet and cold, and the exercise acted as a lively invigorant. Once, as he sped along, he was challenged by the patrol; but he disappeared like a shadow, and came into the road again a mile away, singing to himself,:-- Kun, nigger, run! patter-roller ketch you; Run, nigger, run! hit 's almos' day! He was well acquainted with the surround ings at the Denham Plantation, having been fed many a time by the well-cared-for negroes ; and he had no hesitation in approaching the prem ises. The clouds had whirled themselves away, and the stars told him it was ten o'clock. There was a light in the sitting-room, and Blue Dave judged it best to go to the back door. He BLUE DAVE. 221 rapped gently, and then a little louder. Ordi narily the door would have been opened by the trim black housemaid; but to-night it was opeiied by George Denham's mother, a prim old lady of whom everybody stood greatly in awe without precisely knowing why. She looked out, and saw the gigantic negro looming up on the doorsteps. " Do you bring news of my son ? " she asked. The voice was low, but penetrating; and the calm, even tones told the story of a will too strong to tolerate opposition or even contra diction. Blue Dave hesitated out of sheer embarrass ment at finding such cool serenity where he had probably expected to find grief or some such excitement. " Did you hear me speak ?" the prim old lady asked, before the negro had time to gather his wits. " Do you bring me news of my son ?" "Yessum," said Blue Dave, scratching his head; " dat w'at I come fer. Mars. George gwine ter stay at de Kendrick Place ter-night. 222 BLUE DAVE. I speck lie in bed by dis time," lie added reas suringly. " His horse has come home without buggy or harness. Is my son hurt ? Don't be afraid to tell me the truth. What has happened to him?" How could the poor negro -- how could any body -- know what a whirlwind of yearning affec tion, dread, and anxiety was raging behind these cofol, level tones ? " Mistiss, I tell you de trufe: Mars. George is sorter hurted, but he ain't hurted much. I met 'im in de road, en I tuck 'n' tole 'im dey wuz a freshet in Murder Creek; but he des laugh at me, en he driv' in des like dey wa'n't no water dar; en den w'en he make his disappearance, I tuck 'n' splunge in atter 'im, en none too soon, n'er, kaze he got strucken on de head wid a log, en w'en I fotch 'im out, he 'uz all dazzle up like. Yit he ain't hurted much, Mistiss." " What is your name ?" the prim old lady asked. " Blue Dave, ma'am." BLUE DAVE. 223 "The runaway?" The negro hesitated, looked around, and then hung down his head. He knew the calm, fearless eyes of this gentlewoman were upon him; he felt the influence of her firm tones. She repeated her question: -- " Are you Blue Dave, the runaway ? " " Yessum." The answer seemed to satisfy the lady. She turned and called Eliza, the housemaid. " Eliza, your master's supper is in the diningroom by the fire. Here are the keys. Take it into the kitchen." Then she turned to Blue Dave. " David," she said, " go into the kitchen and eat your supper." Then Eliza was sent after Ellick, the negro foreman; and Ellick was not long in finding Blue Dave a suit of linsey-woolsey clothes, a little warmer and a little drier than those the run away was in the habit of wearing. Then the big grays were put to the Denham carriage, shawls and blankets were thrown in, and Blue Dave was called. 224 BLUE DAVE. " Have you had your supper, David ?" said Mrs. Denham, looking grimmer than ever as she stood on her veranda arrayed in honnet and wraps. " Thanky, Mistiss! thanky, ma'am. I ain't had no meal's vittles like dat, not sence I lef Ferginny." " Can you drive a carriage, David ?" the old lady asked. " Dat I kin, Mistiss." Whereupon he seized the reins and let down the carriage steps. Mrs. Denham and her maid got in; but when everything was ready, Blue Dave hesitated. " Mistiss," he said, rather sheepishly, " w'en I come 'long des now, de patter-rollers holler'd atter me." "No matter, David," the grim old lady re plied ; " your own master would n't order you off of my carriage." " Keep yo' eye on dat off hoss!" exclaimed Ellick, as the carriage moved off. " Hush, honey," Blue Dave cried, as exult- BLUE DAVE, 225 antly as a child; " 'fo' dey gits ter de big gate, I'll know deze yer bosses better dan ef dey wuz my br'er." After that, nothing more was said. The roadhad been made firm and smooth by the heavy beating rain, and the carriage swung along easily and rapidly. The negro housemaid fell back against the cushions, and was soon sound asleep; but Mrs. Denhani sat bolt-upright. Hers was an uncompromising nature, it had been said, and certainly it seemed so; but as the carriage rolled along, there grew before her mind's eye the vague, dim outlines of a vision, -- a vision of a human creature hiding in the dark swamps, fleeing through the deep woods and creeping swiftly through the pine thickets. It was a pathetic figure, this fleeing human crea ture, whether chased by dogs and men or pur sued only by the terrors that hide themselves behind the vast shadows of the night; and the figure grew more pathetic when, as it seemed, it sprang out of the very elements themselves to snatch her son from the floods. The old 15 226 BLUE DAVE. lady sighed and pressed her thin lips together. She had made up her mind. Presently the carriage drew up at the Kendrick Place; and in a little while, after effusive greetings all around, Mrs. Denham was sitting at Mrs. Kendrick's hearth listening to the story of her son's rescue. She wanted to go in and see George at once, but Mrs. Kendrick would consent only on condition that he was not to be aroused. "It is foolish to say it," said the old lady, smiling at Kitty as she came out of the room in which her son was sleeping; " but my son seems to look to-night just as he did when a baby." Kitty smiled such a responsive smile, and looked so young and beautiful, that the proud old lady stooped and kissed her. " I think I shall love you, my dear." " I reckon I '11 have to get even with you," said Mrs. Kendrick, who had a knack of hiding her own emotion, " by telling George that I 've fallen in love with him." This gave a light and half-humorous turn to af- BLUE DAVE. 227 fairs, and in a moment Mrs. Denham was as prim and as uncompromising in appearance as ever, " Well!" exclaimed Mrs. Kendrick, after she and Kitty had retired for the night, " the day's worth living if only to find out that Eebecca Denham has got a heart in her insides. I be lieve actually she 'd 'a' cried for a little." " She did cry, mother," said Kitty, solemnly. " There were tears in her eyes when she leaned over me." " Well, well, well!" said Mrs. Kendrick, " she always put me in mind of a ghost that can't be laid on account of its pride. But we 're what the Lord made us, I reckon, and people deceive iheir looks. My old turkey gobbler is harm less as a hound puppy; but I reckon he 'd bust if he did n't up and strut when strangers are in the front porch." With that Mrs. Kendrick addressed herself to her prayers and to slumber; but Kitty lay awake a long time, thinking and thinking, un til finally her thoughts became the substance of youth's sweetest dreams. nr. BUT why should the tender dreams of this pure heart be transcribed here ? Indeed, why should these vague outlines be spun out to the vanishing point, like the gossamer threads that float and glance and disappear in the Septem ber skies ? Some of the grandchildren of George Denham and Kitty Kendrick will read these pages, and wonder, romantic youngsters that they are, why all the love passages have been suppressed; other readers, more practical and perhaps severer, will ask themselves what possible interest there can be in the narrative of a simple episode in the life of a humble fugitive. What reply can be made, what ex planation can be offered ? Fortunately, what remains to be told may mostly be put in the sententious language of Brother Johnny Roach. BLUE DAVE. 229 One day, shortly after the events which have been described, Brother Brannum rode up to Brother Roach's mill, dismounted, and hitched his horse to the rack. " You 're mighty welcome, Brother Brannum," said Brother Roach from the door, as cheerful tinder his covering of meal dust as the clown in the pantomime; "you're mighty welcome. I had as lief talk to my hopper as to most folks; but the hopper knows me by heart, and I dassent take too many liberties wi' it. Come in,, Brother Brannum; there's no great head of water on, and the gear is running soberly. Sat'days, when all the rocks are moving, my mill is a female woman; the clatter is tumble. I'll not deny it. I hope you 're well, Brother Bran num. And Sister Brannum. I '11 never forgit the savor of her Sunday dumplings, not if I live a thousand year." "We're well as common, Brother Roach, well as common. Yit a twitch here and a twinge there tells us we 're moving along to'rds eternity. It's age that's a-feeling of 230 BLUE DAVE. us, Brother Roach; and when we're ripe it'll pluck us." " It's age rather than the dumplings, that I '11 take the stand on," exclaimed Brother Roach. " Yit, when it comes to that, look at Mizzers Denham; that woman kin look age out of coun tenance any day. Then there's Giner'l Bledser; who more nimble at a muster than the Gener'l ? I see 'em both this last gone Sat'day, and though I was in-about up to my eyes in the toll-bin, I relished the seeing and the hear ing of 'em. But I reckon you've heard the news, Brother Brannum," said Brother Roach, modestly deprecating his own sources of information. " Bless you ! Not me, Brother Roach," said Brother Brannum; " I 've heard no news. Down in my settlement I 'm cut off from the world. Let them caper as they may, we 're not pestered wi' misinformation." " No, nor me nuther, Brother Brannum," said Brother Roach, " bekaze it's as much as I can do for to listen at the racket of my mill. Yit there are some sights meal dust won't begin to BLUE DAVE. 231 hide, and some talk the clatter of the hopper won't nigh drown." "What might they be, Brother Roach?" Brother Brannum brushed the dust off a box with his coat-tails, and sat down. " Well, sir," said Brother Roach, pushing his hat back, and placing his thumbs behind his suspenders, "last Sat'day gone I was a-hurrying to and fro, when who should pop in at the door but Giner'l Bledser ? " ' Hello, Johnny!' says he, free and familiar. "' Howdy, Giner'l,' says I. ' You look holp up, speaking off-hand,' says I. "' That I am, Johnny, that I am,' says he; 'I've made a trade that makes me particular proud,' says he. "'How's that, Giner'l?' says I. "' Why, I 've sold Blue Dave,' says he ; ' eight year ago, I bought him for five hundred dollars, and now I 've sold him to Mizzers Denham for a thousand,' says he. ' I 've got the cold cash in my pocket, and now let 'em ketch the nigger,' says he. 232 BLUE DAVE. "'Well, Giner'l,' says I, 'it'll be time for to marvel arter you see the outcome, bekaze,' says I, 'when there's business in the wind, Mizzers Denham is as long-headed and as cle'r-sighted as a Philadelphia lawyer,' says I. "And (would you believe it, Brother Brannum ?) the outcome happened then and there right before our very face and eyes." "In what regards, Brother Eoach?" said Brother Brannum, rubbing his bony hands to gether. " Well, sir, I glanced my eye out of the door, and I see the Denham carriage coming down yan hill. I p'inted it out to the Giner'l, and he ups and says, says he,-- " ( Davy, though she may be a-going to town for to sue me for damages, yit, if Mizzers Denham's in that carriage, I'll salute her now,' says he; and then he took his stand in the door, as frisky as a colt and as smiling as a basket of chips. As they come up, I tetch'd the Giner'l on the shoulder. "' Giner'l,' says I, ' look clost at that nig- BLUE DAVE. 233 ger on the carriage,--look clost at him,' says I. " ' Why, what the thunderation!' says he. "' To be certain !' says I; ' that's your Blue Dave, and lie looks mighty slick,' says I. " The Giner'l forgot for to say howdy," con tinued Brother Roach, laughing until he began to wheeze; " but Mizzers Denham, she leant out of the carriage window, and said, says she, -- " ' Good- morning, Giner'l, good - morning! David is a most excellent driver,' says she. "The Giner'l managed for to take off his hat, but he was in-about the worst whipped-out white man I ever see. And arter the carriage got out of hearing, sir, he stood in that there door there and cussed plump tell he couldn't cuss. When a man's been to Congress and back, he's liable for to know how to take the name of the Lord in vain. But don't tell me about the wimmen, Brother Brannum. Don't!" Blue Dave was happy at last. He became a great favorite with everybody. His voice was 234 BLUE DAVE. the loudest at the corn-shucking, his foot was the nimblest at the plantation frolics, his rowwas the straightest and the cleanest in the cot ton-patch, his hand was the firmest on the car riage-seat, his arm was the strongest at the log-rolling. When his old mistress came to die, her wandering mind dwelt upon the negro who had served her so faithfully. She fancied she was making a journey. " The carriage goes smoothly along here," she said. Then, after a little pause she asked, " Is David driving ?" and the weeping negro cried out from a corner of the room,-- " 'T ain't po' Dave, Mistiss! De good Lord done tuck holt er de lines." And so, dreaming as a little child would dream, the old lady slipped from life into the beatitudes, if the smiles of the dead mean any thing. A PIECE OF LAND. L A PIECE OF LAND. THE history of Pinetucky District in Putnam County is preserved in tradition only, but its records are not less savory on that account. The settlement has dispersed and disappeared, and the site of it is owned and occupied by a busy little man, who wears eyeglasses and a bob-tailed coat, and who is breeding Jersey cat tle and experimenting with ensilage. It is well for this little man's peace of mind that the dis persion was an accomplished fact before he made his appearance. The Jersey cattle would have been winked at, and the silo regarded as an object of curiosity; but the eyeglasses and the bob-tailed coat would not have been toler ated. But if Pinetucky had its peculiarities, it also had its advantages. It was pleased with 238 A PIECE OF LAND. its situation and surroundings, and was not puz zled, as a great many people hare since been, as to the origin of its name. In brief, Pinetucky was satisfied with itself. It was a sparsely settled neighborhood, to be sure, but the people were sociable and comparatively comfortable. They could remain at home, so to speak, and attend the militia musters, and they were in easy reach of a church-building which was not only used by all denominations-- Methodists, Baptists, and Presbyterians -- as a house of worship, but was made to serve as a schoolhouse. So far as petty litigation was concerned, Squire Ichabod Inchly, the wheel wright, was prepared to hold justice-court in the open air in front of his shop when the weather was fine, and in any convenient place when the weather was foul. " Gentlemen," he would say, when a case came before him, " I 'd a heap ruther shoe a horse or shrink a tire; yit if you will have the law, I '11 try and temper it wi' jestice." This was the genuine Pinetucky spirit, and all true Pinetuckians tried to live up to it. A PIECE OF LAvfD. 239 When occasion warranted they followed the esample of larger communities and gossiped about each other; but rural gossip is oftener harmless than not; besides, it is a question whether gossip does not serve a definite moral purpose. If our actions are to be taken note of by people whose good opinion is worth striv ing for, the fact serves as a motive and a cue for orderly behavior. Yet it should be said that the man least re spected by the Pinetuckians was the man least gossiped about. This was Bradley Gaither, the richest man in the neighborhood. With few exceptions, all the Pinetuckians owned land and negroes; but Bradley Gaither owned more land and more negroes than the most of them put together. No man, to all appearances, led a more correct life than Bradley Gaither. He was first at church, and the last to leave; he even affected a sort of personal interest in politics; but the knack of addressing himself to the respect and esteem of his neighbors he lacked altogether. He was not parsimonious, 240 A PIECE OF LAND. but, as Squire Inchly expressed it, "narrerminded in money-matters." He had the air of a man who is satisfied with himself rather than with the world, and the continual exhibition of this species of selfishness is apt to irritate the most simple-minded spectator. Lacking the sense of humor necessary to give him a knowl edge of his own relations to his neighbors, he lived under the impression that he was not only one of the most generous of men, but the most popular. He insisted upon his rights. If peo ple made bad bargains when they traded with him, -- and he allowed them to make no other kind, -- they must stand or fall by them. . Where his lands joined those of Ms neighbors, there was always " a lane for the rabbits," as the saying is. He would join fences with none of them. Indeed, he was a surly neighbor, though he did not even suspect the fact. He had one weakness, -- a greed for land. If he drove hard bargains, it was for the pur pose of adding to his landed possessions. He overworked and underfed his negroes in order A PIECE OF LAND. 241 that he might buy more land. Day and night he toiled, and planned, and pinched himself and the people around him to gratify his landhunger. Bradley Gaither had one redeeming feature, --his daughter Rose. For the sake of this daughter Pinetucky was willing to forgive him a great many things. To say that Rose Gaither was charming or lovely, and leave the matter there, would ill become even the casual histo rian of Pinetucky. She was lovely, but her loveliness was of the rare kind that shows it self in strength of character as well as in beauty of form and feature. In the apprecia tive eyes of the Pinetuckians she seemed to invest womanhood with a new nobility. She possessed dignity without vanity, and her can dor was tempered by a rare sweetness that won all hearts. She carried with her that myste rious flavor of romance that belongs to the perfection of youth and beauty; and there are old men in Rockville to-day, sitting in the sun shine on the street corners and dreaming of 16 242 A PIECE OF LAND. the past, whose eyes will kindle with enthusiasm at mention of Eose Gaither's name. But in 1840 Bradley Gaither's beautiful daughter was not by any means the only repre sentative of womankind in Pinetucky. There was Miss Jane Inchly, to go no further. Miss Jane was Squire Inchly's maiden sister; and though she was neither fat nor fair, she was forty. Perhaps she was more than forty; but if she was fifty she was not ashamed of it. She had a keen eye and a sharp tongue, and used both with a freedom befitting her sex and her experience. Squire Inchly's house was convenient to his shop; and just opposite lived the Carews, father and son, once the most prosperous and prom inent family in the neighborhood. It was the custom of Pinetucky to take a half-holiday on Saturdays, and on one of these occasions Squire Inchly, instead of going to his shop or to the store, sat in his porch and smoked his pipe. After awhile Miss Jane brought out her sewing and sat with him. Across the way, A PIECE OF LAND. 243 Uncle Billy Carew sat in his easy-chair under the shade of a tree, and made queer gestures in the air with his hands and cane, while his son, a young man of twenty-five or thereabouts, paced moodily up and down the veranda. The birds fluttered in and out of the hedges of Cherokee rose that ran along both sides of the road, and over all the sun shone brightly. " Billy is cuttin' up his antics ag'in," said the Squire, finally. " First the limbs give way, and then the mind. It's Providence, I reckon. We're all a-gittin' old."