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AMONG THE PINES. 

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A NEW WORK, Descriptive of Southern Social Life, BY THE AUTHOR OF AMONG THE PINES, Is now in course of publication in THE "CONTINENTAL MONTHLY, "PUBLISHED BY J. R. GILMORE, 532 Broadway, NEW YORK. 

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AMONG THE PINES:

or, South in Secession Time. 

by

EDMUND KIRKE. 

Tenth Thousand. New York: J. R. Gilmore, 532 Broadway. Charles T. Evans. 1862. 

Entered according to Act of Congress, In the year 1862, by J. R. Gilmore, In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States, forthe Southern District of New York. 

M'crea & Miller, Stereotypers. C. A. Alvord, Printer

TORICHARD B. KIMBALL, THE ACCOMPLISHED AUTHOR, THE POLISHED GENTLEMAN, ANDMY OLD AND EVER-VALUED FRIEND, THESE SKETCHES ARE DEDICATEDBY THEAUTHOR. 

CONTENTS. 

 PAGE. 

CHAPTER I. --ON THE ROAD. --Arrival at Georgetown. --The Village Inn. --Nocturnal Adventures. --My African Driver. --His Strange History. --Genuine Negro Songs. --Arrival at Bucksville. 10

CHAPTER II. --WAYSIDE HOSPITALITY. --A Strange Meeting. --A Well Ordered Plantation. --A Thunder-storm. --A New Guest. --The Hidden Springs or Secession Exposed. --On the Way Again. --Intelligence of the Negro. --Renconter with a Secessionist. 30

CHAPTER III. --CROSSING THE RUNS. --The Black Declines His Freedom. --His Reasons for so Doing. --A "native" Abolitionist. --Swimming the Run. --Black Spirits and White. --Shelter. 55

CHAPTER IV. --POOR WHITES. --The Mills House. --South Carolina Clay-Eaters. --Political Discussion. --President Lincoln a Negro. --"Three in a Bed and one in the Middle. "--$250 reward. --A Secret League. 69

CHAPTER V. --ON THE PLANTATION. --The Planter's Dwelling. --His House-Keeper. --The Process of Turpentine Making. --Loss to Carolina by Secession. --The Dying Boy. --The Story of Jim. --A Northern Man with Southern Principles. --Sam Murdered. --Pursuit of the Overseer. 94

CHAPTER VI. --THE PLANTER'S FAMILY. --The old Nurse. --Her Story. --A White Slave-Woman's Opinion of Slavery. --The Stables. --The Negro-Quarters. --Sunday Exercises. --The Taking of Moye. 127

CHAPTER VII. --PLANTATION DISCIPLINE. --The "Ole Cabin. "--The Mode of Negro Punishment. --The "Thumb-Screw. "--A Ministering Angel. --A Negro Trial. --A Rebellion. --A Turpentine Dealer. --A Boston Dray on its Travels. 150

CHAPTER VIII. --THE NEGRO HUNTER. --Young Democrats. --Political Discussion. --Startling Statistics. --A Freed Negro. 169

CHAPTER IX. --THE COUNTRY CHURCH. --Its Description. --The "Corn-Cracker. "--The News. --Strange Disclosure. 180

CHAPTER X. --THE NEGRO FUNERAL. --The Burial Ground. --A Negro Sermon. --The Appearance of Juley. --The Colonel's Heartlessness. --The Octoroon's Explanation of it. --The Escape of Moye. 196

CHAPTER XI. --THE PURSUIT. --The Start. --"Carolina Race-Horses. "--A Race. --We Lose the Trail. --A Tornado. --A Narrow Escape. -- 207

CHAPTER XII. --THE YANKEE SCHOOLMISTRESS. --Our New Apparel. --"Kissing Goes by Favor. "--Schools at the South. 222

CHAPTER XIII. --THE RAILWAY STATION. --The Village. --A Drunken Yankee. --A Narrow Escape. --Andy Jones. --A Light-Wood Fire. --The Colonel's Departure. 227

CHAPTER XIV. --THE BARBACUE. --The Camp-Ground. --The Stump-Speaker. --A Stump Speech. --Almost a Fight. --The Manner of Roasting the Ox. 239

CHAPTER XV. --THE RETURN. --Arrival at the Plantation. --Disappearance of Juley and her child. --The Old Preacher's Story. --Scene Between the Master and the Slave. 253

CHAPTER XVI. --"ONE MORE UNFORTUNATE. "--Attempted Whipping of Jim. --Appearance of the "Corn-Cracker. "--"Drowned. --Drowned. " 260

CHAPTER XVII. --THE SMALL PLANTER. --His House. --His Wife. --His Negroes. --A Juvenile Darky. --Lazarus in "Ab'ram's Buzzum. "--White and Black Labor Compared. --The Mysteries of "Rosum" manufacture. 277

CHAPTER XVIII. --THE BURIAL OF JULE. --"He Tempers the Wind to the Shorn Lamb. "--The Funeral. 295

CHAPTER XIX. --HOMEWARD BOUND. --Colonel A---- Again. --Parting with Scipio. --Why this Book was Written. 298

CHAPTER XX. --CONCLUSION. --The Author's Explanations. --Last News from Moye and Scipio. --Affecting Letter from Andy Jones. --The End. 303

CHAPTER I. 

ON THE ROAD. 

Some winters ago I passed several weeks at Tallahassee, Florida, andwhile there made the acquaintance of Colonel J----, a South Carolinaplanter. Accident, some little time later, threw us together again atCharleston, when I was gratified to learn that he would be my _compagnondu voyage_ as far north as New York. 

He was accompanied by his body-servant, "Jim, " a fine specimen of thegenus darky, about thirty years of age, and born and reared in hismaster's family. As far as possible we made the journey by day, stoppingat some convenient resting-place by night; on which occasions theColonel, Jim, and myself would occupy the same or adjoining apartments, "we white folks" sleeping on four posts, while the more democratic negrospread his blanket on the floor. Thrown together thus intimately, itwas but natural that we should learn much of each other. 

The "Colonel" was a highly cultivated and intelligent gentleman, andduring this journey a friendship sprung up between us--afterward keptalive by a regular correspondence--which led him, with his wife anddaughter, and the man Jim, to my house on his next visit at the North, one year later. I then promised--if I should ever again travel in SouthCarolina--to visit him on his plantation in the extreme north-easternpart of the state. 

In December last, about the time of the passage of the ordinance ofsecession, I had occasion to visit Charleston, and, previous to settingout, dispatched a letter to the Colonel with the information that I wasready to be led of him "into the wilderness. " On arriving at thehead-quarters of secession, I found a missive awaiting me, in which myfriend cordially renewed his previous tender of hospitality, gave meparticular directions how to proceed, and stated that his "man Jim"would meet me with a carriage at Georgetown, and convey me thence, seventy miles, to "the plantation. "

Having performed the business which led me to Charleston, I set out forthe rendezvous five days before the date fixed for the meeting, intending to occupy the intervening time in an exploration of theancient town and its surroundings. 

The little steamer Nina (a cross between a full-grown nautilus and ahalf-grown tub), which a few weeks later was enrolled as the firstman-of-war of the Confederate navy, then performed the carrying tradebetween the two principal cities of South Carolina. On her, togetherwith sundry boxes and bales, and certain human merchandise, I embarkedat Charleston, and on a delicious morning, late in December, landed atGeorgetown. 

As the embryo war-steamer rounded up to the long, low, rickety dock, lumbered breast-high with cotton, turpentine, and rosin, not a whiteface was to be seen. A few half-clad, shiftless-looking negroes, lounging idly about, were the only portion of the population in waitingto witness our landing. 

"Are all the people dead?" I inquired of one of them, thinking itstrange that an event so important as the arrival of the Charlestonpacket should excite no greater interest in so quiet a town. "Not dead, massa, " replied the black, with a knowing chuckle, "but dey'm gettin'ready for a fun'ral. " "What funeral?" I asked. "Why, dey'm gwine toshoot all de boblition darkies at de Norf, and hab a brack burying; he!he!" and the sable gentleman expanded the opening in his countenance toan enormous extent, doubtless at the brilliancy of his wit. 

I asked him to take my portmanteau, and conduct me to the best hotel. Hereadily assented, "Yas, yas, massa, I show you whar de _big-bugs_ stop;"but at once turning to another darky standing near, he accosted himwith, "Here, Jim, you lazy nigga, tote de gemman's tings. "

"Why don't you take them yourself?" I asked; "you will then get all thepay. " "No, no, massa; dat nigga and me in partenship; he do de work, andI keeps de change, " was the grinning reply, and it admirably illustratesa peculiarity I have observed to be universal with the negro. When leftto his own direction, he invariably "goes into partenship" with some onepoorer than himself, and no matter how trivial the task, shirks all thelabor he can. 

The silent darky and my portmanteau in the van, and the garrulous oldnegro guarding my flank, I wended my way through the principal street tothe hotel. On the route I resumed the conversation:

"So, uncle, you say the people here are getting ready for a blackburying?"

"Yas, massa, gwine to bury all dem mis'able free niggas at de Norf. "

"Why? What will you do that for?"

"Why for, massa! you ax why for!" he exclaimed in surprise. 

"I don't know, " I rejoined; "I'm a stranger here. "

"Well, you see, massa, dem boblition niggas up dar hab gone and 'lecteda ole darky, dey call Uncle Abe; and Old Abe he'se gwine to come downSouf, and cut de decent niggas' troats. He'll hab a good time--_hewill_! My young massa's captin ob de sogers, and he'll cotch de olecoon, and string him up so high de crows won't scent him; yas, hewill;" and again the old darky's face opened till it looked like theentrance to the Mammoth Cave. He, evidently, had read the Southernpapers. 

Depositing my luggage at the hotel, which I found on a side street--adilapidated, unpainted wooden building, with a female landlord--Istarted out to explore the town, till the hour for dinner. Retracing mysteps in the direction of the steamboat landing, I found the streetsnearly deserted, although it was the hour when the business of the dayis usually transacted. Soon I discovered the cause. The militia of theplace were out on parade. Preceded by a colored band, playing nationalairs--in doleful keeping with the occasion--and followed by a motleycollection of negroes of all sexes and ages, the company was enteringthe principal thoroughfare. As it passed me, I could judge of theprowess of the redoubtable captain, who, according to Pompey, will hangthe President "so high de crows won't scent him. " He was aharmless-looking young man, with long, spindle legs, admirably adaptedto running. Though not formidable in other respects, there _was_ acertain martial air about an enormous sabre which hung at his side, andoccasionally got entangled in his nether integuments, and a fiery, warlike look to the heavy tuft of reddish hair which sprouted inbristling defiance from his upper lip. 

The company numbered about seventy, some with uniforms and some without, and bearing all sorts of arms, from the old flint-lock musket to themodern revolving rifle. They were, however, sturdy fellows, and lookedas if they might do service at "the imminent deadly breach. " Their fullranks taken from a population of less than five hundred whites, toldunmistakably the intense war feeling of the community. 

Georgetown is one of the oldest towns in South Carolina, and it has adecidedly _finished_ appearance. Not a single building, I was informed, had been erected there in five years. Turpentine is one of the chiefproductions of the district; yet the cost of white lead and chromeyellow has made paint a scarce commodity, and the houses, consequently, all wear a dingy, decayed look. Though situated on a magnificent bay, alittle below the confluence of three noble rivers, which drain a countryof surpassing richness, and though the centre of the finest rice-growingdistrict in the world, the town is dead. Every thing about it wears anair of dilapidation. The few white men you meet in its streets, or seelounging lazily around its stores and warehouses, appear to lack allpurpose and energy. Long contact with the negro seems to have given themhis shiftless, aimless character. 

The ordinance of secession passed the legislature shortly prior to myarrival, and, as might be expected, the political situation was theall-engrossing topic of thought and conversation. In the estimation ofthe whites a glorious future was about to open on the little state. Whether she stood alone, or supported by the other slave states, shewould assume a high rank among the nations of the earth; her cotton andrice would draw trade and wealth from every land, and when she spoke, creation would tremble. Such overweening state pride in _such_ apeople--shiftless, indolent, and enervated as they are--strikes astranger as in the last degree ludicrous; but when they tell you, in thepresence of the black, whose strong brawny arm and sinewy frame showthat in him lies the real strength of the state, that this great empireis to be built on the shoulders of the slave, your smile of incredulitygives way to an expression of pity, and you are tempted to ask if thosesinewy machines may not THINK, and some day rise, and topple down themighty fabric which is to be reared on their backs!

Among the "peculiar institutions" of the South are its inns. I do notrefer to the pinchbeck, imitation St. Nicholas establishments, whichflourish in the larger cities, but to those home-made affairs, noted forhog and hominy, corn-cake and waffles, which crop out here and there inthe smaller towns, the natural growth of Southern life and institutions. A model of this class is the one at Georgetown. Hog, hominy, andcorn-cake for breakfast; waffles, hog, and hominy for dinner; and hog, hominy, and corn-cake for supper--and such corn-cake, baked in the ashesof the hearth, a plentiful supply of the grayish condiment stillclinging to it!--is its never-varying bill of fare. I endured this farefor a day, _how_, has ever since been a mystery to me, but when nightcame my experiences were indescribable. Retiring early, to get the restneeded to fit me for a long ride on the morrow, I soon realized that"there is no rest for the wicked, " none, at least, for sinners at theSouth. Scarcely had my head touched the pillow when I was besieged by anarmy of red-coated secessionists, who set upon me without mercy. Iwithstood the assault manfully, till "bleeding at every pore, " and thenslowly and sorrowfully beat a retreat. Ten thousand to one is greaterodds than the gallant Anderson encountered at Sumter. Yet I determinednot to fully abandon the field. Placing three chairs in a row, I mountedupon them, and in that seemingly impregnable position hurled defiance atthe enemy, in the words of Scott (slightly altered to suit theoccasion):

"Come one, come all, these chairs shall flyFrom their firm base as soon as I. "

My exultation, however, was of short duration. The persistent foe, scaling my intrenchments, soon returned to the assault with redoubledvigor, and in utter despair I finally fled. Groping my way through thehall, and out of the street-door, I departed. The Sable Brother--aliasthe Son of Ham--alias the Image of GOD carved in Ebony--alias theOppressed Type--alias the Contraband--alias the IrrepressibleNigger--alias the Chattel--alias the Darky--alias the Cullud Pusson--hadinformed me that I should find the Big Bugs at that hotel. I had foundthem. 

Staying longer in such a place was out of the question, and I determinedto make my way to the up-country without longer waiting for Jim. Withthe first streak of day I sallied out to find the means of locomotion. 

The ancient town boasts no public conveyance, except a one-horse gigthat carries the mail in tri-weekly trips to Charleston. That vehicle, originally used by some New England doctor, in the early part of thepast century, had but one seat, and besides, was not going the way Iintended to take, so I was forced to seek a conveyance at alivery-stable. At the only livery establishment in the place, kept by a"cullud pusson, " who, though a slave, owns a stud of horses that might, among a people more _movingly_ inclined, yield a respectable income, Ifound what I wanted--a light Newark buggy, and a spanking gray. Providedwith these, and a darky driver, who was to accompany me to mydestination, and return alone, I started. A trip of seventy miles issomething of an undertaking in that region, and quite a crowd gatheredaround to witness our departure, not a soul of whom, I will wager, willever hear the rumble of a stage-coach, or the whistle of a steam-car, inthose sandy, deserted streets. 

We soon left the village, and struck a broad avenue, lined on eitherside by fine old trees, and extending in an air-line for several miles. The road is skirted by broad rice-fields, and these are dotted here andthere by large antiquated houses, and little collections of negro huts. It was Christmas week; no hands were busy in the fields, and every thingwore the aspect of Sunday. We had ridden a few miles when suddenly theroad sunk into a deep, broad stream, called, as the driver told me, theBlack River. No appliance for crossing being at hand, or in sight, I wasabout concluding that some modern Moses accommodated travellers bypassing them over its bed dry-shod, when a flat-boat shot out from thejungle on the opposite bank, and pulled toward us. It was built oftwo-inch plank, and manned by two infirm darkies, with frosted wool, whoseemed to need all their strength to sit upright. In that leaky craft, kept afloat by incessant baling, we succeeded, at the end of an hour, incrossing the river. And this, be it understood, is travelling in one ofthe richest districts of South Carolina!

We soon left the region of the rice-fields, and plunged into denseforests of the long-leafed pine, where for miles not a house, or anyother evidence of human occupation, is to be seen. Nothing could well bemore dreary than a ride through such a region, and to while away thetedium of the journey I opened a conversation with the driver, who up tothat time had maintained a respectful silence. 

He was a genuine native African, and a most original and interestingspecimen of his race. His thin, close-cut lips, straight nose andEuropean features contrasted strangely with a skin of ebon blackness, and the quiet, simple dignity of his manner betokened superiorintelligence. His story was a strange one. When a boy, he was with hismother, kidnapped by a hostile tribe, and sold to the traders at CapeLopez, on the western coast of Africa. There, in the slave-pen, themother died, and he, a child of seven years, was sent in the slave-shipto Cuba. At Havana, when sixteen, he attracted the notice of a gentlemanresiding in Charleston, who bought him and took him to "the States. " Helived as house-servant in the family of this gentleman till 1855, whenhis master died, leaving him a legacy to a daughter. This lady, a kind, indulgent mistress, had since allowed him to "hire his time, " and hethen carried on an "independent business, " as porter, and doer of allwork around the wharves and streets of Georgetown. He thus gained acomfortable living, besides paying to his mistress one hundred and fiftydollars yearly for the privilege of earning his own support. In everyway he was a remarkable negro, and my three days' acquaintance with himbanished from my mind all doubt as to the capacity of the black forfreedom, and all question as to the disposition of the slave to strikeoff his chains when the favorable moment arrives. From him I learnedthat the blacks, though pretending ignorance, are fully acquainted withthe questions at issue in the pending contest. He expressed the opinion, that war would come in consequence of the stand South Carolina hadtaken; and when I said to him: "But if it comes you will be no betteroff. It will end in a compromise, and leave you where you are. " Heanswered: "No, massa, 't wont do dat. De Souf will fight hard, and deNorf will get de blood up, and come down har, and do 'way wid de _cause_ob all de trubble--and dat am de nigga. "

"But, " I said, "perhaps the South will drive the North back; as you say, they will fight hard. "

"Dat dey will, massa, dey'm de fightin' sort, but dey can't whip deNorf, 'cause you see dey'll fight wid only one hand. When dey fight deNorf wid de right hand, dey'll hev to hold de nigga wid de leff. "

"But, " I replied, "the blacks wont rise; most of you have kind mastersand fare well. "

"Dat's true, massa, but dat an't freedom, and de black lub freedom asmuch as de white. De same blessed LORD made dem both, and HE made demall 'like, 'cep de skin. De blacks hab strong hands, and when de daycome you'll see dey hab heads, too!"

Much other conversation, showing him possessed of a high degree ofintelligence, passed between us. In answer to my question if he had afamily, he said: "No, sar. My blood shall neber be slaves! Ole massaflog me and threaten to kill me 'cause I wouldn't take to de wimmin; butI tole him to kill, dat 't would be more his loss dan mine. "

I asked if the negroes generally felt as he did, and he told me thatmany did; that nearly all would fight for their freedom if they had theopportunity, though some preferred slavery because they were sure ofbeing cared for when old and infirm, not considering that if theirlabor, while they were strong, made their masters rich, the same laborwould afford _them_ provision against old age. He told me that there arein the _district_ of Georgetown twenty thousand blacks, and not morethan two thousand whites, and "Suppose, " he added, "dat one-quarter obdese niggas rise--de rest keep still--whar den would de white folks be?"

"Of course, " I replied, "they would be taken at a disadvantage; but itwould not be long before aid came from Charleston, and you would beoverpowered. "

"No, massa, de chivarly, as you call dem, would be 'way in Virginny, and'fore dey hard of it Massa Seward would hab troops 'nough in Georgetownto chaw up de hull state in less dan no time. "

"But you have no leaders, " I said, "no one to direct the movement. Yourrace is not a match for the white in generalship, and without generals, whatever your numbers, you would fare hardly. "

To this he replied, an elevated enthusiasm lighting up his face, "DeLORD, massa, made generals ob Gideon and David, and de brack man know asmuch 'bout war as dey did; p'raps, " he added, with a quiet humor, "debrack aint equal to de white. I knows most ob de great men, likeWashington and John and James and Paul, and dem ole fellers war white, but dar war Two Sand (Tousaint L'Overture), de Brack Douglass, and deNigga Demus (Nicodemus), dey war brack. "

The argument was unanswerable, and I said nothing. If the day which seesthe rising of the Southern blacks comes to this generation, that negrowill be among the leaders. He sang to me several of the songs currentamong the negroes of the district, and though of little poetic value, they interested me, as indicating the feelings of the slaves. The blacksare a musical race, and the readiness with which many of them improvisewords and melody is wonderful; but I had met none who possessed thereadiness of my new acquaintance. Several of the tunes he repeatedseveral times, and each time with a new accompaniment of words. I willtry to render the sentiment of a few of these songs into as good negrodialect as I am master of, but I cannot hope to repeat the precisewords, or to convey the indescribable humor and pathos which my darkyfriend threw into them, and which made our long, solitary ride throughthose dreary pine-barrens pass rapidly and pleasantly away. The firstreferred to an old darky who was transplanted from the cotton-fields of"ole Virginny" to the rice-swamps of Carolina, and who did not like thechange, but found consolation in the fact that rice is not grown on "theother side of Jordan. "

 "Come listen, all you darkies, come listen to my song, It am about ole Massa, who use me bery wrong. In de cole, frosty mornin', it an't so bery nice, Wid de water to de middle to hoe among de rice; When I neber hab forgotten How I used to hoe de cotton, How I used to hoe de cotton, On de ole Virginny shore; But I'll neber hoe de cotton, Oh! neber hoe de cotton Any more. 

 "If I feel de drefful hunger, he tink it am a vice, And he gib me for my dinner a little broken rice, A little broken rice and a bery little fat-- And he grumble like de debil if I eat too much of dat; When I neber hab forgotten, etc. 

 "He tore me from my DINAH; I tought my heart would burst-- He made me lub anoder when my lub was wid de first, He sole my picaninnies becase he got dar price, And shut me in de marsh-field to hoe among de rice; When I neber had forgotten, etc. 

 "And all de day I hoe dar, in all de heat and rain, And as I hoe away dar, my heart go back again, Back to de little cabin dat stood among de corn, And to de ole plantation where she and I war born! Oh! I wish I had forgotten, etc. 

 "Den DINAH am beside me, de chil'ren on my knee, And dough I am a slave dar, it 'pears to me I'm free, Till I wake up from my dreaming, and wife and chil'ren gone, I hoe away and weep dar, and weep dar all alone! Oh! I wish I had forgotten, etc. 

 "But soon a day am comin, a day I long to see, When dis darky in de cole ground, foreber will be free, When wife and chil'ren wid me, I'll sing in Paradise, How HE, de blessed JESUS, hab bought me wid a price. How de LORD hab not forgotten How well I hoed de cotton, How well I hoed de cotton On de ole Virginny shore; Dar I'll neber hoe de cotton, Oh! neber hoe de cotton Any more. "

The politics of the following are not exactly those of the rulers atWashington, but we all may come to this complexion at last:

 "Hark! darkies, hark! it am de drum Dat calls ole Massa 'way from hum, Wid powder-pouch and loaded gun, To drive ole ABE from Washington; Oh! Massa's gwine to Washington, So clar de way to Washington-- Oh! wont dis darky hab sum fun When Massa's gwine to Washington!

 "Dis darky know what Massa do; He take him long to brack him shoe, To brack him shoe and tote him gun, When he am 'way to Washington. Oh! Massa's gwine to Washington, So clar de way to Washington, Oh! long afore de mornin' sun Ole Massa's gwine to Washington!

 "Ole Massa say ole ABE will eat De niggas all excep' de feet-- De feet, may be, will cut and run, When Massa gets to Washington, When Massa gets to Washington; So clar de way to Washington-- Oh! wont dis darky cut and run When Massa gets to Washington!

 "Dis nigga know ole ABE will save His brudder man, de darky slave, And dat he'll let him cut and run When Massa gets to Washington, When Massa gets to Washington; So clar de way to Washington, Ole ABE will let the darkies run When Massa gets to Washington. "

The next is in a similar vein:

 "A storm am brewin' in de Souf, A storm am brewin' now, Oh! hearken den and shut your mouf, And I will tell you how: And I will tell you how, ole boy, De storm of fire will pour, And make de darkies dance for joy, As dey neber danced afore: So shut your mouf as close as deafh, And all you niggas hole your breafh, And I will tell you how. 

 "De darkies at de Norf am ris, And dey am comin' down-- Am comin' down, I know dey is, To do de white folks brown! Dey'll turn ole Massa out to grass, And set de niggas free, And when dat day am come to pass We'll all be dar to see! So shut your mouf as close as deafh, And all you niggas hole your breafh, And do de white folks brown!

 "Den all de week will be as gay As am de Chris'mas time; We'll dance all night and all de day, And make de banjo chime-- And make de banjo chime, I tink, And pass de time away, Wid 'nuf to eat and 'nuf to drink, And not a bit to pay! So shut your mouf as dose as deafh. And all you niggas hole your breaf, And make de banjo chime. 

 "Oh! make de banjo chime, you nigs, And sound de tamborin, And shuffle now de merry jigs, For Massa's 'gwine in'-- For Massa's 'gwine in, ' I know, And won't he hab de shakes, When Yankee darkies show him how Dey cotch de rattle-snakes![A] So shut your mouf as close as deafh, And all you niggas hole your breaf, For Massa's 'gwine in'-- For Massa's 'gwine in, ' I know, And won't he hab de shakes When Yankee darkies show him how Dey cotch de rattle-snakes!"

The reader must not conclude that my darky acquaintance is an averagespecimen of his class. Far from it. Such instances of intelligence arevery rare, and are never found except in the cities. There, constantintercourse with the white renders the black shrewd and intelligent, buton the plantations, the case is different. And besides, my musicalfriend, as I have said, is a native African. Fifteen years ofobservation have convinced me that the imported negro, after beingbrought in contact with the white, is far more intelligent than theordinary Southern-born black. Slavery cramps the intellect and dwarfsthe nature of a man, and where the dwarfing process has gone on, infather and son, for two centuries, it must surely be the case--as surelyas that the qualities of the parent are transmitted to the child--thatthe later generations are below the first. This deterioration in thebetter nature of the slave is the saddest result of slavery. His moraland intellectual degradation, which is essential to its very existence, constitutes the true argument against it. It feeds the body but starvesthe soul. It blinds the reason, and shuts the mind to truth. It degradesand brutalizes the whole being, and does it purposely. In that lies itsstrength, and in that, too, lurks the weakness which will one day toppleit down with a crash that will shake the Continent. Let us hope thedireful upheaving, which is now felt throughout the Union, is theearthquake that will bury it forever. 

The sun was wheeling below the trees which skirted the western horizon, when we halted in the main road, abreast of one of those by-paths, whichevery traveller at the South recognizes as leading to a planter'shouse. Turning our horse's head, we pursued this path for a shortdistance, when emerging from the pine-forest, over whose sandy barrenswe had ridden all the day, a broad plantation lay spread out before us. On one side was a row of perhaps forty small but neat cabins; and on theother, at the distance of about a third of a mile, a huge building, which, from the piles of timber near it, I saw was a lumber-mill. Beforeus was a smooth causeway, extending on for a quarter of a mile, andshaded by large live-oaks and pines, whose moss fell in graceful draperyfrom the gnarled branches. This led to the mansion of the proprietor, alarge, antique structure, exhibiting the dingy appearance which allhouses near the lowlands of the South derive from the climate, but witha generous, hospitable air about its wide doors and bulky windows, thatseemed to invite the traveller to the rest and shelter within. I hadstopped my horse, and was absorbed in contemplation of a scene asbeautiful as it was new to me, when an old negro approached, andtouching his hat, said: "Massa send his complimens to de gemman, andhappy to hab him pass de night at Bucksville. "

"Bucks_ville_!" I exclaimed, "and where is the village?"

"Dis am it, massa; and it am eight mile and a hard road to de 'Boro"(meaning Conwayboro, a one-horse village at which I had designed tospend the night). "Will de gemman please ride up to de piazza?"continued the old negro. 

"Yes, uncle, and thank you, " and in a moment I had received the cordialwelcome of the host, an elderly gentleman, whose easy and polishedmanners reminded me of the times of our grandfathers in glorious NewEngland. A few minutes put me on a footing of friendly familiarity withhim and his family, and I soon found myself in a circle of daughters andgrandchildren, and as much at home as if I had been a long-expectedguest. 

[Footnote A: The emblem of South Carolina. ]

CHAPTER II. 

WAYSIDE HOSPITALITY. 

Years ago--how many it would not interest the reader to know, and mightembarrass me to mention--accompanied by a young woman--a blue-eyed, golden-haired daughter of New-England--I set out on a long journey; ajourney so long that it will not end till one or the other of us haslaid off forever the habiliments of travel. 

One of the first stations on our route was--Paris. While there, strolling out one morning alone, accident directed my steps to the _Arcd'Etoile_, that magnificent memorial of the greatness of a great man. Ascending its gloomy staircase to the roof, I seated myself, to enjoythe fine view it affords of the city and its environs. 

I was shortly joined by a lady and gentleman, whose appearance indicatedthat they were Americans. Some casual remark led us into a conversation, and soon, to our mutual surprise and gratification, we learned that thelady was a dear and long-time friend of my travelling-companion. Theacquaintance thus begun, has since grown into a close and abidingfriendship. 

The reader, with this preamble, can readily imagine my pleasure onlearning, as we were seated after our evening meal, around that pleasantfireside in far-off Carolina, that my Paris acquaintance was a favoriteniece, or, as he warmly expressed it, "almost a daughter" of my host. This discovery dispelled any lingering feeling of "strangeness" that hadnot vanished with the first cordial greeting of my new-found friends, and made me perfectly "at home. "

The evening wore rapidly away in a free interchange of "news, " opinions, and "small-talk, " and I soon gathered somewhat of the history of myhost. He was born at the North, and his career affords a strikingillustration of the marvellous enterprise of our Northern character. Anative of the State of Maine, he emigrated thence when a young man, andsettled down, amid the pine-forest in that sequestered part ofCottondom. Erecting a small saw-mill, and a log shanty to shelterhimself and a few "hired" negroes, he attacked, with his own hands, themighty pines, whose brothers still tower in gloomy magnificence aroundhis dwelling. 

From such beginnings he had risen to be one of the wealthiest land andslave owners of his district, with vessels trading to nearly everyquarter of the globe, to the Northern and Eastern ports, Cadiz, the WestIndies, South America, and if I remember aright, California. It seemedto me a marvel that this man, alone, and unaided by the usual appliancesof commerce, had created a business, rivalling in extent thetransactions of many a princely merchant of New York and Boston. 

His "family" of slaves numbered about three hundred, and a more healthy, and to all appearance, happy set of laboring people, I had never seen. Well fed, comfortably and almost neatly clad, with tidy and well-orderedhomes, exempt from labor in childhood and advanced age, and cared for insickness by a kind and considerate mistress, who is the physician andgood Samaritan of the village, they seemed to share as much physicalenjoyment as ordinarily falls to the lot of the "hewer of wood anddrawer of water. " Looking at them, I began to question if Slavery is, inreality, the damnable thing that some untravelled philanthropists havepictured it. If--and in that "_if_" my good Abolition friend, is theonly unanswerable argument against the institution--if they were taught, if they knew their nature and their destiny, the slaves of such an ownermight unprofitably exchange situations with many a white man, who, withnothing in the present or the future, is desperately struggling for amiserable hand-to-mouth existence in our Northern cities. I say "of suchan owner, " for in the Southern Arcadia such masters are "few and farbetween"--rather fewer and farther between than "spots upon the sun. "

But they are _not_ taught. Public sentiment, as well as State law, prevents the enlightened master, who would fit the slave by knowledgefor greater usefulness, from letting a ray of light in upon his darkenedmind. The black knows his task, his name, and his dinner-hour. He knowsthere is a something within him--he does not understand preciselywhat--that the white man calls his soul, which he is told will not restin the ground when his body is laid away in the grave, but will--if heis a "good nigger, " obeys his master, and does the task allottedhim--travel off to some unknown region, and sing hallelujahs to theLORD, forever. He rather sensibly imagines that such everlasting singingmay in time produce hoarseness, so he prepares his vocal organs for thelong concert by a vigorous discipline while here, and at the same timecultivates instrumental music, having a dim idea that the LORD has anear for melody, and will let him, when he is tired of singing, vary theexercise "wid de banjo and de bones. " This is all he knows; and hisowner, however well-disposed he may be, cannot teach him more. Noble, Christian masters whom I have met--have told me that they did not _dare_instruct their slaves. Some of their negroes were born in their houses, nursed in their families, and have grown up the playmates of theirchildren, and yet they are forced to see them live and die like thebrutes. One need not be accused of fanatical abolitionism if he deemssuch a system a _little_ in conflict with the spirit of the nineteenthcentury!

The sun had scarcely turned his back upon the world, when a few drops ofrain, sounding on the piazza-roof over our heads, announced a comingstorm. Soon it burst upon us in magnificent fury--a real, old-fashionedthunderstorm, such as I used to lie awake and listen to when a boy, wondering all the while if the angels were keeping a Fourth of July inheaven. In the midst of it, when the earth and the sky appeared to havemet in true Waterloo fashion, and the dark branches of the pines seemedwrithing and tossing in a sea of flame, a loud knock came at thehall-door (bells are not the fashion in Dixie), and a servant soonushered into the room a middle-aged, unassuming gentleman, whom my hostreceived with a respect and cordiality which indicated that he was noordinary guest. There was in his appearance and manner that indefinablesomething which denotes the man of mark; but my curiosity was soongratified by an introduction. It was "Colonel" A----. This title, Iafterward learned, was merely honorary: and I may as well remark here, that nearly every one at the South who has risen to the ownership of anegro, is either a captain, a major, or a colonel, or, as my ebonydriver expressed it: "Dey'm all captins and mates, wid none to row deboat but de darkies. " On hearing the name, I recognized it as that ofone of the oldest and most aristocratic South Carolina families, and thenew guest as a near relative to the gentleman who married the beautifuland ill-fated Theodosia Burr. 

In answer to an inquiry of my host, the new-comer explained that he hadleft Colonel J----'s (the plantation toward which I was journeying), shortly before noon, and being overtaken by the storm after leavingConwayboro, had, at the solicitation of his "boys" (a familiar term forslaves), who were afraid to proceed, called to ask shelter for thenight. 

Shortly after his entrance, the lady members of the family retired; andthen the "Colonel, " the "Captain, " and myself, drawing our chairs nearthe fire, and each lighting a fragrant Havana, placed on the table byour host, fell into a long conversation, of which the following was apart:

"It must have been urgent business, Colonel, that took you so far intothe woods at this season, " remarked our host. 

"These are urgent times, Captain B----, " replied the guest. "All whohave any thing at stake, should be _doing_. "

"These _are_ unhappy times, truly, " said my friend; "has any thing newoccurred?"

"Nothing of moment, sir; but we are satisfied Buchanan is playing usfalse, and are preparing for the worst. "

"I should be sorry to know that a President of the United States hadresorted to underhand measures! Has he really given you pledges?"

"He promised to preserve the _statu quo_ in Charleston harbor, and wehave direct information that he intends to send out reinforcements, "rejoined Colonel A----. 

"Can that be true? You know, Colonel, I never admired your friend, Mr. Buchanan, but I cannot see how, if he does his duty, he can avoidenforcing the laws in Charleston, as well as in the other cities of theUnion. "

"The 'Union, ' sir, does not exist. Buchanan has now no more right toquarter a soldier in South Carolina than I have to march an armed forceon to Boston Common. If he persists in keeping troops near Charleston, we shall dislodge them. "

"But that would make war! and war, Colonel, " replied our host, "would bea terrible thing. Do you realize what it would bring upon us? And whatcould our little State do in a conflict with nearly thirty millions?"

"We should not fight with thirty millions. The other Cotton States arewith us, and the leaders in the Border States are pledged to Secession. They will wheel into line when we give the word. But the North will notfight. The Democratic party sympathizes with us, and some of itsinfluential leaders are pledged to our side. They will sow divisionthere, and paralyze the Free States; besides, the trading andmanufacturing classes will never consent to a war that will work theirruin. With the Yankees, sir, the dollar is almighty. "

"That may be true, " replied our host; "but I think if we go too far, they will fight. What think you, Mr. K----?" he continued, appealing tome, and adding: "This gentleman, Colonel, is very recently from theNorth. "

Up to that moment, I had avoided taking part in the conversation. Enoughhad been said to satisfy me that while my host was a staunchUnionist, [B] his visitor was not only a rank Secessionist, but one ofthe leaders of the movement, and even then preparing for desperatemeasures. Discretion, therefore, counselled silence. To this directappeal, however, I was forced to reply, and answered: "I think, sir, theNorth does not yet realize that the South is in earnest. When it wakesup to that fact, its course will be decisive. "

"Will the Yankees _fight_, sir?" rather impatiently and imperiouslyasked the Colonel, who evidently thought I intended to avoid a directanswer to the question. 

Rather nettled by his manner, I quickly responded: "Undoubtedly theywill, sir. They have fought before, and it would not be wise to countthem cowards. "

A true gentleman, he at once saw that his manner had given offence, andinstantly moderating his tone, rather apologetically replied: "Notcowards, sir, but too much absorbed in the 'occupations of peace, ' to goto war for an idea. "

"But what you call an 'idea, '" said our host, "_they_ may think a greatfact on which their existence depends. _I_ can see that we will losevastly by even a peaceful separation. Tell me, Colonel, what we willgain?"

"Gain!" warmly responded the guest. "Everything! Security, freedom, roomfor the development of our institutions, and each progress in wealth asthe world has never seen. "

"All that is very fine, " rejoined the "Captain, " "but where there iswealth, there must be work; and who will do the work in your newEmpire--I do not mean the agricultural labor; you will depend for that, of coarse, on the blacks--but who will run your manufactories and doyour mechanical labor? The Southern gentleman would feel degraded bysuch occupation; and if you put the black to any work requiringintelligence, you must let him _think_, and when he THINKS, _he isfree_!"

"All that is easily provided for, " replied the Secessionist. "We shallform intimate relations with England. She must have our cotton, and wein return will take her manufactures. "

"That would be all very well at present, and so long as you should keepon good terms with her; but suppose, some fine morning, Exeter Hall gotcontrol of the English Government, and hinted to you, in John Bullfashion, that cotton produced by free labor would be more acceptable, what could three, or even eight millions, cut off from the sympathy andsupport of the North, do in opposition to the power of the Britishempire?"

"Nothing, perhaps, if we _were_ three or even eight millions, but weshall be neither one nor the other. Mexico and Cuba are ready, now, tofall into our hands, and before two years have passed, with or withoutthe Border States, we shall count twenty millions. Long before Englandis abolitionized, our population will outnumber hers, and our territoryextend from the Atlantic to the Pacific, and as far south as theIsthmus. We are founding, sir, an empire that will be able to defy allEurope--one grander than the world has seen since the age of Pericles!"

"You say, with or without the Border States, " remarked our host. "Ithought you counted on their support. "

"We do if the North makes war upon us, but if allowed to go in peace, wecan do better without them. They will be a wall between us and theabolitionized North. "

"You mistake, " I said, "in thinking the North is abolitionized. TheAbolitionists are but a handful there. The great mass of our people arewilling the South should have undisturbed control of its domesticconcerns. "

"Why, then, do you send such men as Seward, Sumner, Wilson, and Grow toCongress? Why have you elected a President who approves ofnigger-stealing? and why do you tolerate such incendiaries as Greeley, Garrison, and Phillips?"

"Seward, and the others you name, " I replied, "are not Abolitionists;neither does Lincoln approve of nigger-stealing. He is an honest man, and I doubt not, when inaugurated, will do exact justice by the South. As to incendiaries, you find them in both sections. Phillips andGarrison are only the opposite poles of Yancey and Wise. "

"Not so, sir; they are more. Phillips, Greeley, and Garrison create andcontrol your public opinion. They are mighty powers, while Yancey andWise have no influence whatever. Yancey is a mere bag-pipe; we play uponhim, and like the music, but smile when he attempts to lead us. Wise isa harlequin; we let him dance because he is good at it, and it amusesus. Lincoln may be honest, but if made President he will be controlledby Seward, who hates the South. Seward will whine, and wheedle, andattempt to cajole us back, but mark what I say, sir, I _know_ him; he isphysically, morally, and constitutionally a COWARD, and will neverstrike a blow for the UNION. If hard pressed by public sentiment, hemay, to save appearances, bluster a little, and make a show of gettingready for a fight; but he will find some excuse at the last moment, andavoid coming to blows. For our purposes, we had rather have the Northunder his control than under that of the old renegade, Buchanan!"

"All this may he very true, " I replied, "but perhaps you attach too muchweight to what Mr. Seward or Mr. Lincoln may or may not do. You seem toforget that there are twenty intelligent millions at the North, who willhave something to say on this subject, and who may not consent to bedriven into disunion by the South, or wheedled into it by Mr. Seward. "

"I do not forget, " replied the Secessionist, "that you have fourmillions of brave, able-bodied men, while we have not, perhaps, morethan two millions; but bear in mind that you are divided, and thereforeweak; we united, and therefore strong!"

"But, " I inquired, "_have_ you two millions without counting yourblacks; and are _they_ not as likely to fight on the wrong as on theright side?"

"They will fight on the right side, sir. We can trust them. You havetravelled somewhat here. Have you not been struck with the contentmentand cheerful subjection of the slaves?"

"No, sir, I have not been! On the contrary, their discontent is evident. You are smoking a cigar on a powder-barrel. "

An explosion of derisive laughter from the Colonel followed this remark, and turning to the Captain, he good-humoredly exclaimed: "Hasn't thegentleman used his eyes and ears industriously!"

"I am afraid he is more than half right, " was the reply. "If this thingshould go on, I would not trust my own slaves, and I think they aretruly attached to me. If the fire once breaks out, the negroes will rushinto it, like horses into a burning barn. "

"Think you so!" exclaimed the Colonel in an excited manner. "By Heaven, if I believed it, I would cut the throat of every slave in Christendom!What, " addressing me, "have you seen or heard, sir, that gives you thatopinion?"

"Nothing but a sullen discontent and an eagerness for news, which showthey feel intense interest in what is going on, and know it concerns_them_. "

"I haven't remarked that, " he said rather musingly, "but it _may_ be so. Does the North believe it? If we came to blows, would they try to exciteservile insurrection among us?"

"The North, beyond a doubt, believes it, " I replied, "yet I think eventhe Abolitionists would aid you in putting down an insurrection; butwar, in my opinion, would not leave you a slave between the Rio Grandeand the Potomac. "

The Colonel at this rose, remarking: "You are mistaken. You aremistaken, sir!" then turning to our host, said: "Captain, it is late:had we not better retire?" Bidding me "good-night, " he was gone. 

Our host soon returned from showing the guest to his apartment, and witha quiet but deliberate manner, said to me: "You touched him, Mr. K----, on a point where he knows we are weakest; but allow me to caution youabout expressing your opinions so freely. The Colonel is a gentleman, and what you have said will do no harm, but, long as I have lived here, _I_ dare not say to many what you have said to him to-night. "

Thanking the worthy gentleman for the caution, I followed him up stairs, and soon lost, in a sweet oblivion, all thoughts of Abolitionists, niggers, and the "grand empire. "

I was awakened in the morning by music under my window, and looking outdiscovered about a dozen darkies gathered around my ebony driver, whowas clawing away with all his might at a dilapidated banjo, while hisauditory kept time to his singing, by striking the hand on the knee, andby other gesticulations too numerous to mention. The songs were not muchto boast of, but the music was the genuine, dyed-in-the-wool, darkyarticle. The following was the refrain of one of the songs, which thereader will perceive was an exhortation to early rising:

 "So up, good massa, let's be gwoin', Let's be scratchin' ob de grabble; For soon de wind may be a blowin', An' we'se a sorry road to trabble. "

The storm of the previous night had ceased, but the sky was overcast, and looked as if "soon de wind might be a-blowin'. " Prudence counselledan early start, for, doubtless, the runs, or small creeks, had becomeswollen by the heavy rain, and would be unsafe to cross after dark. Besides, beyond Conwayboro, our route lay for thirty miles through acountry without a solitary house where we could get decent shelter, werewe overtaken by a storm. 

Hurriedly performing my toilet, I descended to the drawing-room, where Ifound the family assembled. After the usual morning salutations wereexchanged, a signal from the mistress caused the sounding of a bell inthe hall, and some ten or twelve men and women house-servants, ofremarkably neat and tidy appearance, among whom was my darky driver, entered the apartment. They took a stand at the remote end of the room, and our host, opening a large, well-worn family BIBLE, read thefifty-fourth chapter of Isaiah. Then, all kneeling, he made a shortextemporaneous petition, closing with the LORD'S Prayer; all present, black as well as white, joining in it. Then Heber's beautiful hymn, "From Greenland's icy mountains, " was sung; the negroes, to my ear, making much better music than the whites. 

The services over, we adjourned to the dining-room, and after we wereseated, the "Colonel" remarked to me: "Did you notice how finely thatnegro 'boy' (he was fully forty years old) sung?"

"Yes, " I replied, "I did. Do you know him, sir?"

"Oh! yes, very well. His mistress wishes to sell him, but findsdifficulty in doing so. Though a likely negro, people will not buy him. He's too smart. "

"That strikes me as a singular objection, " I remarked. 

"Oh! no, not at all! These _knowing_ niggers frequently make a world oftrouble on a plantation. "

It was after ten o'clock before we were ready to start. The mills, thenegro-quarters, and various other parts of the plantation, and thenseveral vessels moored at the wharf, had to be seen before I could getaway. Finally, I bade my excellent host and his family farewell, andwith nearly as much regret as I ever felt at leaving my own home. I hadexperienced the much-heard-of Southern hospitality, and had found thereport far below the reality. 

The other guest had taken his leave some time before, but not till hehad given me a cordial invitation to return by the way I came, and spenda day or two with him, at his plantation on the river, some twenty milesbelow. 

The sky was lowery, and the sandy road heavy with the recent rain, whenwe started. The gloomy weather seemed to have infected the driver aswell as myself. He had lost the mirthfulness and loquacity of theprevious day, and we rode on for a full hour in silence. Tiring at lastof my own thoughts, I said to him: "Scip, what is the matter with you?what makes you so gloomy?"

"Nuffin, massa; I war only tinkin', " he abstractedly replied. 

"And what are you thinking about?"

"I's wond'rin', massa, if de LORD mean de darkies in dose words of HISdat Massa B---- read dis mornin'. "

"What words do you mean?

"Dese, massa: 'O dou 'fflicted! tossed wid de tempest, and habin nocomfort, behold, I will make you hous'n ob de fair colors, and lay darfoundations wid safomires. All dy chil'ren shill be taught ob de LORD, and great shill be dar peace. In de right shill dey be 'stablished; deyshill hab no fear, no terror; it shan't come nigh 'em, and who comeagainst dem shill fall. Behold! I hab make de blacksmif dat blow decoals, and make de weapons; and I hab make de waster dat shill destroyde oppressors. '"

If he had repeated one of Webster's orations I could not have been moreastonished. I did not remember the exact words of the passage, but Iknew he had caught its spirit. Was this his recollection of the readingheard in the morning? or had he previously committed it to memory? Thesequestions I asked myself; but, restraining my curiosity, I answered:"Undoubtedly they are meant for both the black and the white. "

"Do dey mean, massa, dat we shall be like de wite folks--wid our ownhous'n, our chil'ren taught in de schools, and wid weapons to strikeback when dey strike us?"

"No, Scipio, they don't mean that. They refer principally to spiritualmatters. They were a promise to _all the world_ that when the SAVIOURcame, all, even the greatly oppressed and afflicted, should hear thegreat truths of the BIBLE about GOD, REDEMPTION, and the FUTURE. "

"But de SAVIOUR hab come, massa; and dose tings an't taught to de blackchil'ren. We hab no peace, no rights; nuffin but fear, 'pression, andterror. "

"That is true, Scipio. The LORD takes HIS own time, but HIS time will_surely_ come. "

"De LORD bless you, massa, for saying dat; and de LORD bless you fortelling dat big Cunnel, dat if dey gwo to war de brack man will beFREE!"

"Did you hear what we said?" I inquired, greatly surprised, for Iremembered remarking, during the interview of the previous evening, that our host carefully kept the doors closed. 

"Ebery word, massa. "

"But how _could_ you hear? The doors and windows were shut. Where wereyou?"

"On de piazzer; and when I seed fru de winder dat de ladies war gwine, Iknow'd you'd talk 'bout politics and de darkies--gemmen allers do. So Iopened de winder bery softly--you didn't har 'cause it rained and blowedbery hard, and made a mighty noise. Den I stuffed my coat in de crack, so de wind could'nt blow in and lef you know I was dar, but I lef a holebig 'nough to har. My ear froze to dat hole, massa, bery tight, I 'shoreyou. "

"But you must have got very wet and very cold. "

"Wet, massa! wetter dan a 'gator dat's been in de riber all de week, butI didn't keer for de rain or de cold. What I hard made me warm all deway fru. "

To my mind there was a rough picture of true heroism in that poor darkystanding for hours in his shirt-sleeves, in the cold, stormy night, thelightning playing about him, and the rain drenching him to theskin--that he might hear something he thought would benefit hisdown-trodden race. 

I noticed his clothing though bearing evident marks of a drenching, wasthen dry, and I inquired: "How did you dry your clothes?"

"I staid wid some ob de cullud folks, and arter you gwoes up stars, Iwent to dar cabin, and dey gabe me some dry cloes. We made up a bigfire, and hung mine up to dry, and de ole man and woman and me sot upall night and talked ober what you and de oder gemmen said. "

"Will not those folks tell what you did, and thus get you into trouble?"

"Tell! LORD bless you, massa, _de bracks am all freemasons_; dat ar oleman and woman wud die 'fore dey'd tell. "

"But are not Captain B---'s negroes contented?" I asked; "they seem tobe well treated. "

"Oh! yas, dey am. All de brack folks 'bout har want de Captin to buy'em. He bery nice man--one ob de LORD'S own people. He better man danDavid, 'cause David did wrong, and I don't b'lieve de Captin eber did. "

"I should think he was a very good man, " I replied. 

"Bery good man, massa, but de white folks don't like him, 'cause dey sayhe treats him darkies so well, all dairn am uncontented. "

"Tell me, Scipio, " I resumed after a while, "how it is you can repeatthat passage from Isaiah so well?"

"Why, bless you, massa, I know Aziar and Job and de Psalms 'most all byheart. Good many years ago, when I lib'd in Charles'on, the gub'nesslearned me to read, and I hab read dat BOOK fru good many times. "

"Have you read any others?" I asked. 

"None but dat and Doctor Watts. I hab _dem_, but wite folks wont sellbooks to de bracks, and I wont steal 'em. I read de papers sometimes. "

I opened my portmanteau, that lay on the floor of the wagon, and handedhim a copy of Whittier's poems. It happened to be the only book, excepting the BIBLE, that I had with me. 

"Read that, Scipio, " I said. "It is a book of poetry, but written by agood man at the North, who greatly pities the slave. "

He took the book, and the big tears rolled down his cheeks, as he said:"Tank you, massa, tank you. Nobody war neber so good to me afore. "

During our conversation, the sky, which had looked threatening all themorning, began to let fall the big drops of rain; and before we reachedConwayboro, it poured down much after the fashion of the previous night. It being cruelty to both man and beast to remain out in such a deluge, we pulled up at the village hotel (kept, like the one at Georgetown, bya lady), and determined to remain overnight, unless the rain shouldabate in time to allow us to reach our destination before dark. 

Dinner being ready soon after our arrival (the people of Conwayboro, like the "common folks" that Davy Crockett told about, dine at twelve), I sat down to it, first hanging my outer garments, which were somewhatwet, before the fire in the sitting-room. The house seemed to be a sortof public boarding-house, as well as hotel, for quite a number ofpersons, evidently town's-people were at the dinner-table. My appearanceattracted some attention, though not more, I thought, than would benaturally excited in so quiet a place by the arrival of a stranger; but"as nobody said nothing to me, I said nothing to nobody. "

Dinner over, I adjourned to the "sitting-room, " and seating myself bythe fire, watched the drying of my "outer habiliments. " While thusengaged, the door opened, and three men--whom I should have taken forSouth Carolina gentlemen, had not a further acquaintance convinced me tothe contrary--entered the room. Walking directly up to where I wassitting, the foremost one accosted me something after this manner:

"I see you are from the North, sir. "

Taken a little aback by the abruptness of the "salute, " but guessing hisobject, I answered: "No, sir; I am from the South. "

"From what part of the South?"

"I left Georgetown yesterday, and Charleston two days before that, " Ireplied, endeavoring to seem entirely oblivious to his meaning. 

"We don't want to know whar you war yesterday; we want to know whar you_belong_, " he said, with a little impatience. 

"Oh! that's it. Well, sir, I belong _here_ just at present, or rather Ishall, when I have paid the landlady for my dinner. "

Annoyed by my coolness, and getting somewhat excited, he repliedquickly: "You mustn't trifle with us, sir. We know you. You're from theNorth. We've seen it on your valise, and we can't allow a man whocarries the New York _Independent_ to travel in South Carolina. "

The scoundrels had either broken into my portmanteau, or else a copy ofthat paper had dropped from it on to the floor of the wagon when I gavethe book to Scipio. At any rate, they had seen it, and it was evident"Brother Beecher" was getting me into a scrape. I felt indignant at theimpudence of the fellow, but determined to keep cool, and, a littlesarcastically, replied to the latter part of his remark:

"That's a pity, sir. South Carolina will lose by it. "

"This game wont work, sir. We don't want such people as you har, and thesooner you make tracks the better. "

"I intend to leave, sir, as soon as the rain is over, and shall travelthirty miles on your sandy roads to-day, if you don't coax me to stayhere by your hospitality, " I quietly replied. 

The last remark was just the one drop needed to make his wrath "bileover, " and he savagely exclaimed: "I tell you, sir, we will not betrifled with. You must be off to Georgetown at once. You can have justhalf an hour to leave the Boro', not a second more. "

His tone and manner aroused what little combativeness there is in me. Rising from my chair, and taking up my outside-coat, in which was one ofColt's six-shooters, I said to him: "Sir, I am here, a peaceable man, onpeaceable, private business. I have started to go up the country, and gothere I shall; and I shall leave this place at my convenience--notbefore. I have endured your impertinence long enough, and shall have nomore of it. If you attempt to interfere with my movements, you will doso at your peril. "

My blood was up, and I was fast losing that better part of valor calleddiscretion; and _he_ evidently understood my movement, and did notdislike the turn affairs were taking. There is no telling what mighthave followed had not Scip just at that instant inserted his woolly headbetween us, excitedly exclaiming: "Lord bless you, Massa B----ll; what_am_ you 'bout? Why, dis gemman am a 'ticlar friend of Cunnel A----. He'm a reg'lar sesherner. He hates de ablisherners worser dan de debble. I hard him swar a clar, blue streak 'bout dem only yesterday. "

"Massa B----ll" was evidently taken aback by the announcement of thenegro, but did not seem inclined to "give it up so" at once, for heasked: "How do you know he's the Colonel's friend, Scip? Who told youso?"

"Who told me so?" exclaimed the excited negro, "why, didn't he stay atCaptin B----'s, wid de Cunnel, all night last night; and didn't dey setup dar doin' politic business togedder till arter midnight? Didn't deCunnel come dar in all de storm 'pressly to see dis gemman?"

The ready wit and rude eloquence of the darky amused me, and the idea ofthe "Cunnel" travelling twenty miles through the terrible storm of theprevious night to meet a man who had the New York _Independent_ abouthim, was so perfectly ludicrous, that I could not restrain my laughter. That laugh did the business for "Massa B----ll. " What the negro hadsaid staggered, but did not convince him; but my returning good-humorbrought him completely round. Extending his hand to me, he said: "I see, sir, I've woke up the wrong passenger. Hope you'll take no offence. Inthese times we need to know who come among us. "

"No offence whatever, sir, " I replied. "It is easy to be mistaken; but, "I added smilingly, "I hope, for the sake of the next traveller, you'llbe less precipitate another time. "

"I _am_ rather hasty; that's a fact, " he said. "But no harm is done. Solet's take a drink, and say no more about it. The old lady har keepsnary a thing, but we can get the _raal stuff_ close by. "

Though not a member of a "Total Abstinence Society, " I have alwaysavoided indulging in the quality of fluid that is the staple beverage atthe South. I therefore hesitated a moment before accepting thegentleman's invitation; but the alternative seemed to be squarelypresented, pistols or drinks; cold lead or poor whiskey, and--I amashamed to confess it--I took the whiskey. 

Returning to the hotel, I found Scip awaiting me. "Massa, " he said, "webetter be gwine. Dat dar sesherner am ugly as de bery ole debble; andsoon as he knows I cum de possum ober him 'bout de Cunnel, he'll bedown on you _shore_. "

The rain had dwindled to a drizzle, which the sun was vigorouslystruggling to get through with a tolerable prospect of success, and Iconcluded to take the African's advice. Wrapping myself in anIndia-rubber overcoat, and giving the darky a blanket of the samematerial, I started. 

[Footnote B: I very much regret to learn, that since my meeting withthis most excellent gentleman, being obnoxious to the Secession leadersfor his well-known Union sentiments, he has been very onerously assessedby them for contributions for carrying on the war. The sum he has beenforced to pay, is stated as high as forty thousand dollars, but that maybe, and I trust is, an exaggeration. In addition--and this fact iswithin my own knowledge--five of his vessels have been seized in theNorthern ports by our Government. This exposure of true Union men to adouble fire, is one of the most unhappy circumstances attendant uponthis most unhappy war. ]

CHAPTER III. 

CROSSING THE "RUNS. "

The long, tumble-down bridge which spans the Waccamaw at Conwayboro, trembled beneath our horse's tread, as with lengthened stride he shookthe secession mud from his feet, and whirled us along into the dark, deep forest. It may have been the exhilaration of a hearty dinner ofoats, or it may have been sympathy with the impatience of hisfellow-travellers that spurred him on; whichever it was, away he went asif Lucifer--that first Secessionist--were following close at his heels. 

The sun, which for a time had been industriously wedging his way intothe dark masses of cloud, finally slunk out of sight and left usenveloped in a thick fog, which shut from view all of Cottondom, excepta narrow belting of rough pines, and a few rods of sandy road thatstretched out in dim perspective before us. There being nothing in theoutside creation to attract my attention, I drew the apron of thecarriage about me, and settling myself well back on the seat to avoidthe thick-falling mist, fell into a train of dreamy reflection. 

Niggers, slave-auctions, cotton-fields, rice-swamps, and King Cottonhimself, that blustering old despot, with his swarthy arms and"under-pinning, " his face of brass, and body of "raw material, " passedthrough my mind, like Georgia trains through the Oconee Swamp, tillfinally my darky friend came into view. He seemed at first a littlechild, amid the blazing ruins of his wilderness home, gazing in stupidhorror on the burning bodies of his father and his kindred. Then he waskneeling at the side of his dying mother in the slave-pen at Cape Lopez, and--still a child--cooped in the "Black-hole" of the accursedslave-ship, his little frame burning with the fever-fire, and hischild-heart longing for death. Then he seemed mounting the Cubanslave-block, and as the "going! going! gone!" rung in my ear, he washurried away, and driven to the cruel task--still a child--on the hot, unhealthy sugar-field. Again he appeared, stealing away at night to alonely hut, and by the light of a pine-knot, wearily poring over theBOOK of BOOKS, slowly putting letters into words, and words intosentences, that he might know _"What God says to the black man. "_ Thenhe seemed a man--splendid of frame, noble of soul--suspended in thewhipping-rack, his arms bound above his head, his body resting on thetips of his toes, and the merciless lash falling on his bare back, tillthe red stream ran from it like a river--scourged because he would notaid in creating beings as wretched as himself, and make merchandise ofhis own blood to gorge the pocket of an incarnate white devil. 

As these things passed before me, and I thought of his rareintelligence, of his fine traits of character, and of the true heroismhe had shown in risking, perhaps, his own life to get me--astranger--out of an ugly hobble, I felt a certain spot in my left sidewarming toward him, very much as it might have done had his blood beenas pure as my own. It seemed to me a pity--anti-Abolitionist andSouthern-sympathizer though I was--that a man of such rare naturaltalent, such character and energy, should have his large nature dwarfed, be tethered for life to a cotton-stalk, and made to wear his soul out ina tread-mill, merely because his skin had a darker tinge and his shoe alonger heel than mine. 

As I mused over his "strange, eventful history, " and thought of thehandy way nature has of putting the _right_ man in the _wrong_ place, itoccurred to me how "Brother Beecher" one evening, not a long timebefore, had charmed the last dollar from my waistcoat pocket byexhibiting, _à la_ Barnum, a remarkably ugly "cullud pusson" on hispulpit stairs, and by picturing the awful doom which awaited her--thatof being reduced from baby-tending to some less useful employment--ifhis audience did not at once "do the needful. " Then it occurred to mehow much finer a spectacle my ebony friend would make; how well his sixfeet of manly sinew would grace those pulpit stairs; how eloquently thereverend gentleman might expatiate on the burning sin of shrouding thelight of such an intellect in the mists of niggerdom, only to see itsnuffed out in darkness; how he might enlarge on what the black could doin elevating his race, either as "cullud" assistant to "Brother Pease"at the Five-Points, or as co-laborer with Fred Douglass at abolitionconventions, or, if that didn't _pay_, how, put into the minstrelbusiness, he might run the white "troupes" off the track, and yield aliberal revenue to the "Cause of Freedom. " As I thought of the probableeffect of this last appeal, it seemed to me that the thing was alreadydone, and that SCIP was FREE. 

I got back from dreamland by the simple act of opening my eyes, andfound myself still riding along in that Jersey wagon, over that heavy, sandy road, and drenched with the mists of that dreary December day. Thereverie made, however, a deep impression on me, and I gave vent to itsomewhat as follows:

"Colonel A---- tells me, Scip, that your mistress wants to sell you. Doyou know what she asks?"

"She ax fifteen hundred dollar, massa, but I an't worth dat now. Niggerproperty's mighty low. "

"What is your value now?"

"P'raps eight hundred, p'raps a thousand dollar, massa. "

"Would your mistress take a thousand for you?"

"Don't know, sar, but reckon she would. She'd be glad to get shut of me. She don't like me on de plantation, 'cause she say de oder darkies tinktoo much ob me; and she don't like me in de city, 'cause she 'fraid Irun away. "

"Why afraid you'll runaway? Did you ever try to?"

"Try to! LOR, massa, I neber taught ob such a ting--wouldn'tgwo ef I could. "

"But wouldn't you?" I asked, thinking he had conscientious scruplesabout running away; "wouldn't you if you could buy yourself, and gohonestly, as a _free_ man?"

"Buy myself, sar!" he exclaimed in surprise; "buy _my own_ flesh andblood dat de LORD hissef gabe me! No, no! massa; I'd likes to be free, but I'd neber do _dat_!"

"Why not do that?" I asked. 

"'Cause 't would be owning dat de white folks hab a right to de brack;and 'cause, sar, if I war free I couldn't stay har. "

"Why should you stay here? You have no wife nor child; why not go wherethe black man is respected and useful?"

"I'se 'spected and useful har, massa. I hab no wife nor child, and datmake me feel, I s'pose, like as ef all de brack people war my chil'ren. "

"But they are not your children; and you can be of no service to them. At the North you might learn, and put your talents to some use. "

"Sar, " he replied, a singular enthusiasm lighting up his face, "de LORD, dat make me what I ar, put me har, and I must stay. Sometimes when tingslook bery brack, and I feel a'most 'scouraged, I goes to HIM, and I say, 'LORD, I's ob no use, take me 'way; let me get fru wid dis; let me nomore see de suffrin' and 'pression ob de pore cullud race;' den HE sayto me, just so plain as I say it to you, 'Keep up good courage, Scipio, de time will come;'[C] and now, bless de LORD, de time am coming!"

"_What_ time is coming, Scipio?"

He gave me a quick, suspicious glance, but his face in a moment resumedits usual expression, as he replied: "I'se sure, massa, dat I couldtrust you. I feel you am my friend, but I can't say no more. "

"You need not, Scip--I can guess. What you have said is safe with me. But let me counsel you--wait for the white man. Do not let your freedomcome in blood!"

"It will come, massa, as de LORD will. When HE war freed _de earthshook, and de vail ob de temple war rent in twain_!"

We said no more, but rode on in silence; the darky absorbed in his ownreflections, I musing over the black volcano, whose muffled echoes Ithen heard "away down South in Dixie. "

We had ridden on for about an hour, when an opening in the treesdisclosed a by-path, leading to a plantation. Following it for a shortdistance, we came upon a small clearing, in the midst of which, flankedby a ragged corn and potato patch, squatted a dilapidated, unpaintedwooden building, a sort of "half-way house" between a hut and a shanty. In its door-way, seated on a chair which wanted one leg and a back, wasa suit of linsey-woolsey, adorned by enormous metal buttons, andsurmounted by a queer-looking headpiece that might have passed foreither a hat or an umbrella. I was at a loss to determine whether theobject were a human being or a scarecrow, when, at the sound of ourapproach, the umbrella-like article lifted, and a pair of sunken eyes, anose, and an enormous beard, disclosed themselves. Addressing myself tothe singular figure, I inquired how far we were from our destination, and the most direct route to it. 

"Wal, stranger, " was the reply, "it's a right smart twenty mile to theCunnel's, but I reckon ye'll get thar, if ye follow yer critter's nose, and ar good at swimming. "

"Why good at swimming?" I inquired. 

"'Cause the 'runs' have ris, and ar considerable deep by this time. "

"That's comforting news. "

"Yas, to a man as seems in a hurry, " he replied, looking at my horse, which was covered with foam. 

"How far is it to the nearest run?" I asked. 

"Wal, it mought be six mile; it mought be seven, but you've one or twoall-fired ones to cross arter that. "

Here was a pleasant predicament. It was nearly five o'clock, and ourhorse, though a noble animal, could not make the distance on anunobstructed route, in the then heavy state of the roads, in less thanthree hours. Long before that time it would be dark, and no doubtstormy, for the sky, which had lowered all the afternoon, every now andthen uttered an ominous growl, and seemed ready to fall down upon us. But turning back was out of the question, so, thanking the "native, " Iwas about to proceed, when he hailed me as follows:

"I say, stranger, what's the talk in the city?"

"Nothing, sir, " I replied, "but fight and Secession. "

"D--n Secession!" was the decidedly energetic answer. 

"Why so, my friend? That doctrine seems to be popular hereabouts. "

"Yas, pop'lar with them South Car'lina chaps. They'd be oneasy in heavenif Gabriel was cook, and the LORD head-waiter. "

"They must be hard to suit, " I said; "I 'kalkerlate' _you're_ not aSouth Carolinian. "

"No, sir-ee! not by several mile. My mother moved over the line to bornme a decent individual. "

"But why are you for the Union, when your neighbors go the other way?"

"'Cause it's allers carried us 'long as slick as a cart with new-greasedwheels; and 'cause, stranger, my grand'ther was one of Marion's boys, and spilt a lettle claret at Yewtaw for the old consarn, and I reckonhe'd be oneasy in his grave if I turned my back on it now. "

"But, my friend, " I said, "they say Lincoln is an Abolitionist, and ifinaugurated, he will free every darky you've got. "

"He can't do that, stranger, 'cordin' to the Constetution, andgrand'ther used to say that ar dokermunt would hold the d--l himself;but, for my part, I'd like to see the niggers free. "

"See the niggers free!" I replied in undisguised astonishment; "why, mygood sir, that is rank treason and abolition. "

"Call it what yer a mind to, them's my sentiments; but I say, stranger, if thar's ony thing on airth that I uttarly dispise it ar a Northerndough-face, and it's clar yer one on 'em. "

"There, my friend, you're mistaken. I'm neither an Abolitionist nor adough-face. But _why_ do you go for freeing the niggers?"

"'Cause the white folks would be better off. You see, I have to feed andclothe my niggers, and pay a hundred and twenty and a hundred and fiftya year for 'em, and if the niggers war free, they'd work for 'bout halfthat. "

Continuing the conversation, I learned that the umbrella-hattedgentleman worked twenty hired negroes in the gathering of turpentine;and that the district we were entering was occupied by persons in thesame pursuit, who nearly all employed "hired hands, " and entertainedsimilar sentiments; Colonel J----, whom I was about to visit, and whowas a large slave-_owner_, being about the only exception. This, thereader will please remember, was the state of things at the date ofwhich I am writing, in the _very heart_ of Secessiondom. 

Bidding the turpentine-getter a rather reluctant "good-by, " I rode oninto the rain. 

It was nearly dark when we reached the first "run, " but, fortunately, itwas less swollen than our way-side acquaintance had represented, and wesucceeded in crossing without difficulty. Hoping that the others mightbe equally as fordable, we pushed rapidly on, the darkness meanwhilegathering thickly about us, and the rain continuing to fall. Our way laythrough an unbroken forest, and as the wind swept fiercely through it, the tall dark pines which towered on either side, moaned and sighed likea legion of unhappy spirits let loose from the dark abodes below. Occasionally we came upon a patch of woods where the turpentine-gathererhad been at work, and the white faces of the "tapped" trees, gleamingthrough the darkness, seemed an army of "sheeted ghosts" closingsteadily around us. The darkness, the rain, and the hideous noises inthe forest, called up unpleasant associations, and I inwardly determinedto ask hospitality from the first human being, black or white, whom weshould meet. 

We had ridden on for about an hour after dark, when suddenly our horse'sfeet plashed in the water, and he sank to his middle in a stream. Myfirst thought was that we were in the second "run, " but as he pushedslowly on, the water momentarily growing deeper, and spreading on eitherside as far as we could see, it flashed upon me that we had missed theroad in the darkness, and were fairly launched into the Waccamaw river!Turning to the darky, who was then driving, I said quickly:

"Scip, stop the horse. Where are we?"

"Don't know, massa; reckon we'se in de riber. "

"A comfortable situation this. We can't turn round. The horse can't swimsuch a stream in harness. What shall we do?"

"Can you swim, massa?" he quietly asked. 

"Yes, like an eel. "

"Wal, den, we'd better gwo on. De hoss'll swim. But, massa, you mighttake off your boots and overcoat, and be ready for a spring ef he gwodown. "

I did as he directed, while he let down the apron and top of the wagon, and fastened the reins loosely to the dash-board, saying as he did so, "You must allers gib a hoss his head when he swim, massa; if you reinhim, he gwo down, shore. " Then, undoing a portion of the harness, togive the horse the free use of his legs, he shouted, "Gee up, ole Gray, "and we started. 

The noble animal stepped off slowly and cautiously, as if fully aware ofthe danger of the passage, but had proceeded only about fifty yards whenhe lost his footing, and plunged us into an entirely new and decidedlycold hip-bath. "Now's de time, ole Gray, " "show your broughten up, oleboy, " "let de gemman see you swim, ole feller, " and similar remarksproceeded rapidly from the darky, who all the time avoided touching thereins. 

It may have been one minute, it may have been five minutes--I took "nonote of _time_"--before the horse again struck bottom, and halted fromsheer exhaustion, the water still almost level with his back, and theopposite bank too far-off to be seen through the darkness. After a shortrest, he again "breasted the waters, " and in a few moments landed us onthe shore; not, unfortunately, in the road, but in the midst of thepine-trees, there so entangled with under-growth, that not even a man, much less a horse, could make his way through them. Wet to the skin, andshivering with the cold, we had no time to lose "in gittin' out of dat, "if we would avoid greater dangers than those we had escaped. So, springing from the wagon, the darky waded up the stream, near its bank, to reconnoitre. Returning in a few minutes, he reported that we wereabout a hundred yards below the road. We had been carried that far downstream by the strength of the current. Our only course was to follow the"run" up along its bank; this we did, and in a short time had thesatisfaction of striking the high road. Arranging the harness, we weresoon under way again, the horse bounding along as if he felt thenecessity of vigorous exercise to restore his chilled circulation. Weafterward learned that it was not the Waccamaw we had crossed, but thesecond "run" our native friend had told us of, and that the water in themiddle of its stream was fifteen feet deep!

Half-dead with cold and wet, we hurried on, but still no welcome lightbeckoned us to a human habitation. The darkness grew denser till wecould not even distinguish the road, much less our horse's nose, whichwe had been directed to follow. Inwardly cursing the folly whichbrought me into such a wilderness, I said to the darky:

"Scip, I'm sorry I took you on such a trip as this. "

"Oh! neber mind me, massa; I ruther like de dark night and de storm. "

"Like the night and the storm! why so?"

"'Cause den de wild spirits come out, and talk in de trees. Dey make mefeel bery strong _har_, " he replied, striking his hand on his breast. 

"The night and the storm, Scip, make _me_ feel like cultivating anothersort of _spirits_. There are some in the wagon-box; suppose we stop andsee what they are. "

We stopped, and I took out a small willow-flask, which held the "spiritsof Otard, " and offered it to the darky. 

"No, massa, " he said, laughing, "I neber touch dem sort ob spirits; deyraise de bery ole deble. "

Not heeding the darky's example, I took "a long and a strong pull, "and--felt the better for it. 

Again we rode on, and again and again I "communed with the spirits, "till a sudden exclamation from Scip aroused me from the half-stupor intowhich I was falling. "What's the matter?" I asked. 

"A light, massa, a light!"

"Where?"

"Dar, way off in de trees--"

"Sure enough, glory, hallelujah, there it is! We're all right now, Scip. "

We rode on till we came to the inevitable opening in the trees, and weresoon at the door of what I saw, by the light which came through thecrevices in the logs, was a one-story shanty, about twenty feet square. "Will you let us come in out of de rain?" asked Scip of awretched-looking, half-clad, dirt-bedraggled woman, who thrust her headfrom the doorway. 

"Who ar ye?" was the reply. 

"Only massa and me, and de hoss, and we'm half dead wid de cold, "replied Scip; "can we cum in out ob de rain?"

"Wal, strangers, " replied the woman, eyeing us as closely as thedarkness would permit, "you'll find mighty poor fixins har, but I reckonye can come in. "

[Footnote C: The Southern blacks, like all ignorant people, are intenselyfanatical on religious subjects. The most trifling occurrences have totheir minds a hidden significance, and they believe the LORD speaks tothem in signs and dreams, and in almost every event of nature. Thissuperstition, which has been handed down from their savage ancestry, hasabsolute sway over them, and one readily sees what immense power itwould give to some leading, adroit mind, that knew how to use it. Bymeans of it they might be led to the most desperate deeds, fullybelieving all the while that they were "led ob de LORD. "]

CHAPTER IV. 

POOR WHITES. 

Entering the house, we saw, by the light of a blazing pile ofpine-knots, which roared and crackled on the hearth, that it containedonly a single apartment. In front of the fire-place, which occupied thebetter half of one side of this room, the floor was of the bare earth, littered over with pine chips, dead cinders, live coals, broken pots, and a lazy spaniel dog. Opposite to this, at the other end of the room, were two low beds, which looked as if they had been "slept in forever, and never made up. " Against the wall, between the beds and thefire-place, stood a small pine table, and on it was a large wooden bowl, from whose mouth protruded the handles of several unwashed pewterspoons. On the right of the fire was a razeed rocking-chair, evidentlythe peculiar property of the mistress of the mansion, and three blocksof pine log, sawn off smoothly, and made to serve for seats. Overagainst these towered a high-backed settle, something like that on which

 "sot Huldy all alone, When Zeke peeked thru the winder;"

and on it, her head resting partly on her arm, partly on the end of thesettle, one small, bare foot pressing the ground, the other, with thepart of the person which is supposed to require stockings, extended in ahorizontal direction--reclined, not Huldy, but her Southern cousin, who, I will wager, was decidedly the prettier and dirtier of the two. Ourentrance did not seem to disconcert her in the least, for she lay thereas unmoved as a marble statue, her large black eyes riveted on my face, as if seeing some nondescript animal for the first time. I stood for amoment transfixed with admiration. In a somewhat extensive observationof her sex in both hemispheres, I had never witnessed such a form, sucheyes, such faultless features, and such wavy, black, luxuriant hair. Aglance at her dress--a soiled, greasy, grayish linsey-woolsey gown, apparently her only garment--and a second look at her face, which, oncloser inspection, had precisely the hue of a tallow candle, recalled meto myself, and allowed me to complete the survey of the premises. 

The house was built of unhewn logs, separated by wide interstices, through which the cold air came, in decidedly fresh if not health-givingcurrents, while a large rent in the roof, that let in the rain, gave theinmates an excellent opportunity for indulging in a shower-bath, ofwhich they seemed greatly in need. The chimney, which had intruded acouple of feet into the room, as if to keep out of the cold, andthreatened momentarily to tumble down, was of sticks, built up in clay, while the windows were of thick, unplaned boards. 

Two pretty girls, one of perhaps ten and the other of fourteen years, evidently sisters of the unadorned beauty, the middle-aged womanwho had admitted us, and the dog--the only male member of thehousehold--composed the family. I had seen negro cabins, but thesepeople were whites, and these whites were _South Carolinians_. When suchcounterparts of the feudal serfs still exist, who will say that the daysof chivalry are over!

After I had seated myself by the fire, and the driver had gone out tostow the horse away under the tumble-down shed at the back of the house, the elder woman said to me--

"Reckon yer wet. Ben in the rain!"

"Yes, madam, we've been out most of the day, and got in the river belowhere. "

"Did ye? Ye mean the 'run. ' I reckon it's right deep now. "

"Yes, our horse had to swim, " I replied. 

"Ye orter strip and put on dry cloes to onst. "

"Thank you, madam, I will. "

Going to my portmanteau, which the darky had placed near the door, Ifound it dripping with wet, and opening it I discovered that everyarticle had undergone the rite of immersion. 

"Every thing is thoroughly soaked, madam. I shall have to dry myself byyour fire. Can you get me a cup of tea?"

"Right sorry, stranger, but I can't. Haint a morsel to eat or drink inthe house. "

Remembering that our excellent hostess of the night before had insistedon filling the wagon-box with a quantity of "chicken fixins, " to serveus in an emergency, and that my brandy flask was in my India-rubbercoat, I sent Scip out for them. 

The stores disclosed boiled chicken, bacon, sandwiches, sweet potatoes, short cake, corn-bread, buttered waffles, and 'common doin's' toonumerous to mention, enough to last a family of one for a fortnight, butall completely saturated with water. Wet or dry, however, the provisionswere a godsend to the half-starved family, and their hearts seemed toopen to me with amazing rapidity. The dog got up and wagged his tail, and even the marble-like beauty rose from her reclining posture andinvited me to a seat with her on the bench. 

The kettle was soon steaming over the fire, and the boiling water, mixedwith a little brandy, served as a capital substitute for tea. After thechicken was recooked, and the other edibles "warmed up, " the little pinetable was brought out, and I learned--what I had before suspected--thatthe big wooden bowl and the half dozen pewter spoons were the only"crockery" the family possessed. 

I declined the proffered seat at the table, the cooking utensils beingany thing but inviting, and contented myself with the brandy and water;but, forgetting for a moment his color, I motioned to the darky--who wasas wet and jaded, and much more hungry than I was--to take the placeoffered to me. The negro did not seem inclined to do so, but the woman, observing my gesture, yelled out, her eyes flashing with anger:

"No, sar! No darkies eats with us. Hope you don't reckon _yerself_ nobetter than a good-for-nothin', no account nigger!"

"I beg your pardon, madam; I intended no offence. Scipio has served mevery faithfully for two days, and is very tired and hungry. I forgotmyself. "

This mollified the lady, and she replied:

"Niggers is good enuff in thar place, but warn't meant to 'sociate withwhite folks. "

There may have been some ground for a distinction in that case; therecertainly was a difference between the specimens of the two races thenbefore me; but, not being one of the chivalry, it struck me that theodds were on the side of the black man. The whites were shiftless, ragged, and starving; the black well clad, cleanly, energetic, and asmuch above the others in intellect as Jupiter is above a church steeple. To be sure, color was against him, and he was, after all, a servant inthe land of chivalry and of servant-owners. Of course the woman wasright. 

She soon resumed the conversation with this remark:

"Reckon yer a stranger in these parts; whar d'ye come from?"

"From New York, madam. "

"New York! whar's that?"

"It's a city at the North. "

"Oh! yas; I've heern tell on it: that's whar the Cunnel sells histurpentime. Quite a place, arnt it?"

"Yes, quite a place. Something larger than all South Carolina. "

"What d'ye say? Larger nor South Carolina. Kinder reckon tain't, is't?"

"Yes, madam, it is. "

"Du tell! 'Taint so large as Charles'n, is't?"

"Yes, twenty times larger than Charleston. "

"Lord o'massy! How does all the folks live thar?"

"Live quite as well as they do here. "

"Ye don't have no niggers thar, does ye?"

"Yes, but none that are slaves. "

"Have Ablisherners thar, don't ye? them people that go agin the South?"

"Yes, some of them. "

"What do they go agin the South for?"

"They go for freeing the slaves. Some of them think a black man as goodas a white one. "

"Quar, that; yer an Ablisherner, arnt ye?"

"No, I'm an old-fashioned Whig. "

"What's that? Never heerd on them afore. "

"An old-fashioned Whig, madam, is a man whose political principles areperfect, and who is as perfect as his principles. "

That was a "stumper" for the poor woman, who evidently did notunderstand one-half of the sentence. 

"Right sort of folks, them, " she said, in a half inquiring tone. 

"Yes, but they're all dead now. "

"Dead?"

"Yes, dead, beyond the hope of resurrection. "

"Iv'e heern all the dead war to be resurrected. Didn't ye say ye war oneon 'em? _Ye_ aint dead yet, " said the woman, chuckling at havingcornered me. 

"But I'm more than _half_ dead just now. "

"Ah, " replied the woman, still laughing, "yer a chicken. "

"A chicken! what's that?"

"A thing that goes on tu legs, and karkles, " was the ready reply. 

"Ah, my dear madam, you can out-talk me. "

"Yas, I reckon I kin outrun ye, tu. Ye arnt over rugged. " Then, after apause, she added--"What d'ye 'lect that darky, Linkum, President for?"

"I didn't elect him. _I_ voted for Douglas. But Lincoln is not a darky. "

"He's a mullater, then; I've heern he war, " she replied. 

"No, he's not a mulatto; he's a rail-splitter. "

"Rail-splitter? _Then he's a nigger, shore. _"

"No, madam; white men at the North split rails. "

"An' white wimmin tu, p'raps, " said the woman, with a contemptuous tossof the head. 

"No, they don't, " I replied, "but white women _work_ there. "

"White wimmin work thar!" chimed in the hitherto speechless beauty, showing a set of teeth of the exact color of her skin--_yaller_. "Whatdu the' du?"

"Some of them attend in stores, some set type, some teach school, andsome work in factories. "

"Du tell! Dress nice, and make money?"

"Yes, " I replied, "they make money, and dress like fine ladies; in fact, _are_ fine ladies. I know one young woman, of about your age, that hadto get her own education, who earns a thousand dollars a year byteaching, and I've heard of many factory-girls who support theirparents, and lay by a great deal of money, by working in the mills. "

"Wal!" replied the young woman, with a contemptuous curl of hermatchless upper lip; "schule-marms arn't fine ladies; fine ladies don'twork; only niggers works _har_. I reckon I'd rather be 'spectable thanwork for a livin'. "

I could but think how magnificently the lips of some of our gloriousYankee girls would have curled had they have heard that remark, and haveseen the poor girl that made it, with her torn, worn, greasy dress; herbare, dirty legs and feet, and her arms, neck, and face so thicklyencrusted with a layer of clayey mud that there was danger ofhydrophobia if she went near a wash-tub. Restraining my involuntarydisgust, I replied:

"We at the North think work is respectable. We do not look down on a manor a woman for earning their daily bread. We all work. "

"Yas, and that's the why ye'r all sech cowards, " said the old woman. 

"Cowards!" I said; "who tells you that?"

"My old man; he says one on our _boys_ can lick five of your Yankee_men_. "

"Perhaps so. Is your husband away from home?"

"Yas, him and our Cal. Ar down to Charles'n. "

"Cal. Is your son, is he?"

"Yas, he's my oldest, and a likely lad he ar tu--he's twenty-one, andhis name are JOHN CAL'OUN MILLS. He's gone a troopin' it with hisfader. "

"What, both gone and left you ladies here alone?"

"Yas, the Cunnel sed every man orter go, and they warn't to be ahind therest. The Cunnel--Cunnel J. --looks arter us while they is away. "

"But I should think the Colonel looked after you poorly--giving younothing to eat. "

"Oh! it's ben sech a storm to-day, the gals couldn't go for the vittles, though 'tain't a great way. We'r on his plantation; this house ishis'n. "

This last was agreeable news, and it occurred to me that if we were sonear the Colonel's we might push on, in spite of the storm, and getthere that night; so I said:

"Indeed; I'm going to the Colonel's. How far is his house from here?"

"A right smart six mile; it's at the Cross roads. Ye know the Cunnel, duye?"

"Oh, yes, I know him well. If his home is not more than six miles off, Ithink we had better go on to-night. What do you say, Scip?"

"I reckon we'd better gwo, massa, " replied the darky, who had spread mytravelling-shawl in the chimney-corner, and was seated on it, drying hisclothes. 

"Ye'd better not, " said the woman; "ye'd better stay har; thar's a rightsmart run twixt har and the Cunnel's, and 'tain't safe to cross arterdark. "

"If that is so we'd better stay, Scip; don't you think so?" I said tothe darky. 

"Jess as you say, massa. We got fru wid de oder one, and I reckon taintno wuss nor dat. "

"The bridge ar carried away, and ye'll hev to swim _shore_, " said thewoman. "Ye'd better stay. "

"Thank you, madam, I think we will, " I replied, after a moment'sthought; "our horse has swum one of your creeks to-night, and I dare nottry another. "

Having taken off my coat, I had been standing, during the greater partof this conversation, in my shirt-sleeves before the fire, turning roundoccasionally to facilitate the drying process, and taking every now andthen a sip from the gourd containing our brandy and water; aided in thelatter exercise by the old woman and the eldest girl, who indulged quiteas freely as I did. 

"Mighty good brandy that, " at last said the woman. "Ye like brandy, don't ye?"

"Not very much, madam. I take it to-night because I've been exposed tothe storm, and it stimulates the circulation. But Scip, here, don't likespirits. He'll get the rheumatism because he don't. "

"Don't like dem sort of sperits, massa; but rumatics neber trubble me. "

"But I've got it mighty bad, " said the woman, "_and I take 'em wheneverI kin get 'em_. "

I rather thought she did, but I "reckoned" her principal beverage waswhiskey. 

"You have the rheumatism, madam, because your house is so open; adraught of air is always unhealthy. "

"I allers reckoned 'twar _healthy_, " she replied. "Ye Yankee folks havequar notions. "

I looked at my watch, and found it was nearly ten o'clock, and, feelingvery tired, said to the hostess:

"Where do you mean we shall sleep?"

"Ye can take that ar bed, " pointing to the one nearer the wall, "thedarky can sleep har;" motioning to the settle on which she was seated. 

"But where will you and your daughters sleep? I don't wish to turn youout of your beds. "

"Oh! don't ye keer for us; we kin all bunk together; dun it afore. Liketo turn in now?"

"Yes, thank you, I would;" and without more ceremony I adjourned to thefurther part of the room, and commenced disrobing. Doffing my boots, waistcoat, and cravat, and placing my watch and purse under the pillow, I gave a moment's thought to what a certain not very old lady, whom Ihad left at home, might say when she heard of my lodging with agrass-widow and three young girls, and sprang into bed. There I removedmy under-mentionables, which were still too damp to sleep in, and inabout two minutes and thirty seconds sunk into oblivion. 

A few streaks of grayish light were beginning to creep through thecrevices in the logs, when a movement at the foot of the bed awakenedme, and glancing downward I beheld the youngest girl emerging from underthe clothes at my feet. She had slept there, "cross-wise, " all night. Astir in the adjoining bed soon warned me that the other feminines werepreparing to follow her example; so, turning my face to the wall, Ifeigned to be sleeping. Their toilet was soon made, when they quietlyleft Scip and myself in possession of the premises. 

The darky rose as soon as they were gone, and, coming to me, said:

"Massa, we'd better be gwine. I'se got your cloes all dry, and you canrig up and breakfust at de Cunnel's. "

The storm had cleared away, and the sun was struggling to get throughthe distant pines, when Scip brought the horse to the door, and weprepared to start. Turning to the old woman, I said:

"I feel greatly obliged to you, madam, for the shelter you have givenus, and would like to make you some recompense for your trouble. Pleaseto tell me what I shall pay you. "

"Wal, stranger, we don't gin'rally take in lodgers, but seein' as how asthar ar tu on ye, and ye've had a good night on it, I don't keer if yepay me tu dollars. "

That struck me as "rather steep" for "common doin's, " particularly as wehad furnished the food and "the drinks;" yet, saying nothing, I handedher a two-dollar bank-note. She took it, and held it up curiously to thesun for a moment, then handed it back, saying, "I don't know nuthin''bout that ar sort o' money; haint you got no silver?"

I fumbled in my pocket a moment, and found a quarter-eagle, which I gaveher. 

"Haint got nary a fip o' change, " she said, as she took it. 

"Oh! never mind the change, madam; I shall want to stop and _look_ atyou when I return, " I replied, good-humoredly. 

"Ha! ha! yer a chicken, " said the woman, at the same time giving me agentle poke in the ribs. Fearing she might, in the exuberance of her joyat the sight of the money, proceed to some more decided demonstration ofaffection, I hastily stepped into the wagon, bade her good-by, and wasoff. 

We were still among the pines, which towered gigantically all around us, but were no longer alone. Every tree was scarified for turpentine, andthe forest was alive with negro men and women gathering the "lastdipping, " or clearing away the stumps and underbrush preparatory to thespring work. It was Christmas week; but, as I afterward learned, theColonel's negroes were accustomed to doing "half tasks" at that season, being paid for their labor as if they were free. They stopped their workas we rode by, and stared at us with a stupid, half-frightenedcuriosity, very much like the look of a cow when a railway train ispassing. It needed but little observation to convince me that their_status_ was but one step above the level of the brutes. 

As we rode along I said to the driver, "Scip, what did you think of ourlodgings?"

"Mighty pore, massa. Niggas lib better'n dat. "

"Yes, " I replied, "but these folks despise you blacks; they seem to beboth poor and proud. "

"Yas, massa, dey'm pore 'cause dey wont work, and dey'm proud 'causedey'r white. Dey wont work 'cause dey see de darky slaves doin' it, andtink it am beneaf white folks to do as de darkies do. Dis habin' slaveskeeps dis hull country pore. "

"Who told you that?" I asked, astonished at hearing a remark showing somuch reflection from a negro. 

"Nobody, massa; I see it myseff. "

"Are there many of these poor whites around Georgetown?"

"Not many 'round Georgetown, sar, but great many in de up-country har, and dey'm all 'like--pore and no account; none ob 'em kin read, and deyall eat clay. "

"Eat clay!" I said; "what do you mean by that?"

"Didn't you see, massa, how yaller all dem wimmin war? Dat's 'cause deyeat clay. De little children begin 'fore dey kin walk, and dey eat ittill dey die; dey chaw it like 'backer. It makes all dar stumacs big, like as you seed 'em, and spiles dar 'gestion. It'm mighty onhealfy. "

"Can it be possible that human beings do such things! The bruteswouldn't do that. "

"No, massa, but _dey_ do it; dey'm pore trash. Dat's what de big folkscall 'em, and it am true; dey'm long way lower down dan de darkies. "

By this time we had arrived at the "run. " We found the bridge carriedaway, as the woman had told us; but its abutments were still standing, and over these planks had been laid, which afforded a safe crossing forfoot-passengers. To reach these planks, however, it was necessary towade into the stream for full fifty yards, the "run" having overflowedits banks for that distance on either side of the bridge. The water wasevidently receding, but, as we could not well wait, like the man in thefable, for it all to run by, we alighted, and counselled as to the bestmode of making the passage. 

Scip proposed that he should wade in to the first abutment, ascertainthe depth of the stream, and then, if it was not too deep for the horseto ford to that point, drive that far, get out, and walk to the end ofthe planking, leading the horse, and then again mount the wagon at thefurther end of the bridge. We were sure the horse would have to swim inthe middle of the current, and perhaps for a considerable distancebeyond; but, having witnessed his proficiency in aquatic performances, we had no doubt he would get safely across. 

The darky's plan was decided on, and divesting himself of his trowsers, he waded into the "run" to take the soundings. 

While he was in the water my attention was attracted to a printed paper, posted on one of the pines near the roadside. Going up to it, I read asfollows:

 "$250 REWARD. 

 "Ran away from the subscriber, on Monday, November 12th, his mulatto man, SAM. Said boy is stout-built, five feet nine inches high, 31 years old, weighs 170 lbs. , and walks very erect, and with a quick, rapid gait. The American flag is tattooed on his right arm above the elbow. There is a knife-cut over the bridge of his nose, a fresh bullet-wound in his left thigh, and his back bears marks of a recent whipping. He is supposed to have made his way back to Dinwiddie County, Va. , where he was raised, or to be lurking in the swamps in this vicinity. 

 "The above reward will be paid for his confinement in any jail in North or South Carolina, or Virginia, or for his delivery to the subscriber on his plantation at ----. 

 "----, December 2, 1860. "

The name signed to this hand-bill was that of the planter I was about tovisit. 

Scip having returned, and reported the stream fordable to the bridge, Isaid to him, pointing to the "notice:"

"Read that, Scip. "

He read it, but made no remark. 

"What does it mean--that fresh bullet wound, and the marks of a recentwhipping?" I asked. 

"It mean, massa, dat de darky hab run away, and ben took; and dat whendey took him dey shot him, and flogged him arter dat. Now, he hab runaway agin. De Cunnel's mighty hard on his niggas!"

"Is he? I can scarcely believe that. "

"He am, massa; but he arnt so much to blame, nuther; dey'm awful bad, most ob 'em--so dey say. "

Our conversation was here interrupted by our reaching the bridge. Aftersafely "walking the plank, " and making our way to the opposite bank, Iresumed it by asking:

"Why are the Colonel's negroes so particularly bad?"

"'Cause, you see, massa, de turpentime business hab made great profitsfor sum yars now, and de Cunnel hab been gettin' rich bery fass. He putall his money, jes so fass as he make it, into darkies, so to make more;for he's got bery big plantation, and need nuffin' but darkies to workit to make money jess like a gold mine. He goes up to Virginny to buyniggas; and up dar _now_ dey don't sell none less dey'm bad uns, 'cepwhen sum massa die or git pore. Virginny darkies dat cum down har aintgin'rally ob much account. Dey'm either kinder good-for-nuffin, or dey'mugly; and de Cunnel'd ruther hab de ugly dan de no-account niggas. "

"How many negroes has he?"

"'Bout two hundred, men and wimmin, I b'lieve, massa. "

"It can't be pleasant for his family to remain in such an out-of-the-wayplace, with so bad a gang of negroes about them, and no white peoplenear. "

"No, massa, not in dese times; but de missus and de young lady arnt darnow. "

"Not there now? The Colonel said nothing to me about that. Are yousure?"

"Oh yas, massa; I seed 'em gwo off on de boat to Charles'n most twoweeks ago. Dey don't mean to cum back till tings am more settled; dey'm'fraid to stay dar. "

"Would it be safe for the Colonel there, if a disturbance broke outamong the slaves. "

"'T wouldn't be safe den anywhar, sar; but de Cunnel am a bery braveman. He'm better dan twenty of _his_ niggas. "

"Why better than twenty of _his_ niggers?"

"'Cause dem ugly niggas am gin'rally cowards. De darky dat is quiet, 'spectful, and does his duty, am de brave sort; _dey'll_ fight, massa, till dey'm cut down. "

We had here reached a turn in the road, and passing it, came suddenlyupon a coach, attached to which were a pair of magnificent grays, drivenby a darky in livery. 

"Hallo, dar!" said Scip to the driver, as we came nearly abreast of thecarriage. "Am you Cunnel J----'s man?"

"Yas, I is dat, " replied the darky. 

At this moment a woolly head, which I recognized at once as that of theColonel's man "Jim, " was thrust from the window of the vehicle. 

"Hallo, Jim, " I said. "How do you do? I'm glad to see you. "

"Lor bress me, Massa K----, am dat you?" exclaimed the astonished negro, hastily opening the door, and coming to me. "Whar _did_ you cum from?I'se mighty glad to see you;" at the same time giving my hand a heartyshaking. I must here say, in justice to the reputation of SouthCarolina, that no respectable Carolinian refuses to shake hands with ablack man, unless--the black happens to be free. 

"I thought I wouldn't wait for you, " I replied. "But how did you expectto get on? the 'runs' have swollen into rivers. "

"We got a 'flat' made for dis one--it's down by dis time--de oders wetought we'd get ober sumhow. "

"Jim, this is Scip, " I said, seeing the darkies took no notice of eachother. 

"How d'ye do, Scip_io?_" said Jim, extending his hand to him. A look ofsingular intelligence passed over the faces of the two negroes as theirhands met; it vanished in an instant, and was so slight that none but aclose observer would have detected it, but some words that Scip hadpreviously let drop had put me on the alert, and I felt sure it had ahidden significance. 

"Wont you get into de carriage, massa?" inquired Jim. 

"No, thank you, Jim. I'll ride on with Scip. Our horse is jaded, and youhad better go ahead. "

Jim mounted the driver's seat, turned the carriage, and drove off at abrisk pace to announce our coming at the plantation, while Scip and Irode on at a slower gait. 

"Scip, did you know Jim before?" I asked. 

"Hab seed him afore, massa, but neber know'd him. "

"How is it that you have lived in Georgetown five years, and have notknown him?"

"I cud hab know'd him, massa, good many time, ef I'd liked, but darkieshab to be careful. "

"Careful of what?"

"Careful ob who dey knows; good many bad niggas 'bout. "

"Pshaw, Scip, you're 'coming de possum'; there isn't a better niggerthan Jim in all South Carolina. I know him well. "

"P'raps he am; reckon he _am_ a good 'nuff nigga. "

"Good enough nigga, Scip! Why, I tell you he's a splendid fellow; justas true as steel. He's been North with the Colonel, often, and theAbolitionists have tried to get him away; he knew he could go, butwouldn't budge an inch. "

"I knew he wouldn't, " said the darky, a pleasurable gleam passingthrough his eyes; "dat sort don't run; dey face de music!"

"Why don't they run? What do you mean by facing the music?"

"Nuffin' massa--only dey'd rather stay har. "

"Come, Scip, you've played this game long enough. Tell me, now, whatthat look you gave each other when you shook hands meant. "

"What look, massa? Oh! I s'pose 'twar 'cause we'd both _heerd_ ob eachoder afore. "

"'Twas more than that, Scip. Be frank; you know you can trust _me_. "

"Wal, den, massa, " he replied hesitatingly, adding, after a short pause, "de ole woman called you a Yankee, sar--you can guess. "

"If I should guess, 't would be that it meant _mischief_. "

"It don't mean mischief, sar, " said the darky, with a tone and air thatwould not have disgraced a Cabinet officer; "it mean only RIGHT andJUSTICE. "

"It means that there is some secret understanding between you. "

"I toled you, massa, " he replied, relapsing into his usual manner, "datde blacks am all Freemasons. I gabe Jim de grip, and he knowd me. He'dha knowd my name ef you hadn't toled him. "

"Why would he have known your name?"

"'Cause I gabe de grip, dat tole him. "

"Why did he call you Scip_io_? I called you _Scip_. "

"Oh! de darkies all do dat. Nobody but de white folks call me _Scip_. Ican't say no more, massa; I SHUD BREAK DE OATH EF I DID!"

"You have said enough to satisfy me that there is a secret league amongthe blacks, and that you are a leader in it. Now, I tell you, you'll getyourself into a scrape. I've taken a liking to you, Scip, and I shouldbe _very sorry_ to see you run yourself into danger. "

"I tank you, massa, from de bottom ob my soul I tank you, " he said, asthe tears moistened his eyes. "You bery kind, massa; it do me good totalk wid you. But what am my life wuth? What am any _slave's_ life wuth?_Ef you war me you'd do like me!_"

I could not deny it, and I made no reply. 

The writer is aware that he is here making an important statement, andone that may be called in question by those persons who are accustomedto regard the Southern blacks as only reasoning brutes. The great massof them _are_ but a little above the brutes in their habits andinstincts, but a large body are fully on a par, except in merebook-education, with their white masters. 

The conversation above recorded is, _verbatim et literatim_, TRUE. Ittook place at the time indicated, and was taken down, as were otherconversations recorded in this book, within twenty-four hours after itsoccurrence. The name and the locality, only, I have, for very evidentreasons, disguised. 

From this conversation, together with others, held with the same negro, and from after developments made to me at various places, and atdifferent times, extending over a period of six weeks, I becameacquainted with the fact that there exists among the blacks a secret andwide-spread organization of a Masonic character, having its grip, pass-word, and oath. It has various grades of leaders, who arecompetent and _earnest_ men, and its ultimate object is FREEDOM. It isquite as secret and wide-spread as the order of the "Knights of theGolden Circle, " the kindred league among the whites. 

This latter organization, which was instituted by John C. Calhoun, William L. Porcher, and others, as far back as 1835, has for its soleobject the dissolution of the Union, and the establishment of a SouthernEmpire--Empire is the word, not Confederacy, or Republic; and it wassolely by means of its secret but powerful machinery that the SouthernStates were plunged into revolution, in defiance of the will of amajority of their voting population. 

Nearly every man of influence at the South (and many a pretended Unionman at the North) is a member of this organization, and sworn, under thepenalty of assassination, to labor "in season and out of season, by fairmeans and by foul, at all times, and all occasions, " for theaccomplishment of its object. The blacks are bound together by a similaroath, and only _bide their time_. 

The knowledge of the real state of political affairs which the negroeshave acquired through this organization is astonishingly accurate; theirleaders possess every essential of leadership--except, it may be, military skill--and they are fully able to cope with the whites. 

The negro whom I call Scipio, on the day when Major Anderson evacuatedFort Moultrie, and before he or I knew of that event, which set allSouth Carolina in a blaze, foretold to me the breaking out of this warin Charleston harbor, and as confidently predicted that it would resultin the freedom of the slaves!

The fact of this organization existing is not positively known (for theblack is more subtle and crafty than any thing human), but it issuspected by many of the whites, the more moderate of whom are disposedto ward off the impending blow by some system of gradualemancipation--declaring all black children born after a certain datefree--or by some other action that will pacify and keep down the slaves. These persons, however, are but a small minority, and possess nopolitical power, and the South is rushing blindly on to a catastrophe, which, if not averted by the action of our government, will make thehorrors of San Domingo and the French Revolution grow pale in history. 

I say the action of our government, for with it rests theresponsibility. What the black wants is freedom. Give him that, and hewill have no incentive to insurrection. If emancipation is proclaimed atthe head of our armies--emancipation for _all_--confiscation for theslaves of rebels, compensation for the slaves of loyal citizens--theblacks will rush to the aid of our troops, the avenging angel will passover the homes of the many true and loyal men who are still left at theSouth, and the thunderbolts of this war will fall only--where theyshould fall--on the heads of its blood-stained authors. If this is notdone, after we have put down the whites we shall have to meet theblacks, and after we have waded knee-deep in the blood of both, weshall end the war where it began, but with the South desolated by fireand sword, the North impoverished and loaded down with an everlastingdebt, and our once proud, happy, and glorious country the by-word andscorn of the civilized world. 

Slavery is the very bones, marrow, and life-blood of this rebellion, andit cannot be crushed till we have destroyed that accursed institution. If a miserable peace is patched up before a death-stroke is given toslavery, it will gather new strength, and drive freedom from thiscountry forever. In the nature of things it cannot exist in the samehemisphere with liberty. Then let every man who loves his countrydetermine that if this war must needs last for twenty years, it shallnot end until this root of all our political evils is weeded outforever. 

A short half-hour took us to the plantation, where I found the Colonelon the piazza awaiting me. After our greeting was over, noticing mysoiled and rather dilapidated condition, he inquired where I had passedthe night. I told him, when he burst into a hearty fit of laughter, andfor several days good-naturedly bantered me about "putting up" at themost aristocratic hotel in South Carolina--the "Mills House. "

We soon entered the mansion, and the reader will, I trust, pardon me, ifI leave him standing in its door-way till another chapter. 

CHAPTER V. 

ON THE PLANTATION. 

The last chapter left the reader in the door-way of the Colonel'smansion. Before entering, we will linger there awhile and survey theoutside of the premises. 

The house stands where two roads meet, and, unlike most planters'dwellings, is located in full view of the highway. It is a rambling, disjointed structure, thrown together with no regard to architecturalrules, and yet there is a rude harmony in its very irregularities thathas a pleasing effect. The main edifice, with a frontage of nearlyeighty feet, is only one and a half stories high, and is overshadowed bya broad projecting roof, which somehow, though in a very natural way, drops down at the eaves, and forms the covering of a piazza, twenty feetwide, and extending across the entire front of the house. At itssouth-easterly angle, the roof is truncated, and made again to form acovering for the piazza, which there extends along a line of irregularbuildings for sixty yards. A portion of the verandah on this side beingenclosed, forms a bowling-alley and smoking-room, two essentialappendages to a planter's residence. The whole structure is covered withyellow-pine weather boarding, which in some former age was covered withpaint of a grayish brown color. This, in many places, has peeled offand allowed the sap to ooze from the pine, leaving every here and therelarge blotches on the surface, somewhat resembling the "warts" I haveseen on the trunks of old trees. 

The house is encircled by grand old pines, whose tall, upright stems, soaring eighty and ninety feet in the air, make the low hamlet seemlower by the contrast. They have stood there for centuries, their rough, shaggy coats buttoned close to their chins, and their long green lockswaving in the wind; but the long knife has been thrust into their veins, and their life-blood is now fast oozing away. 

With the exception of the negro huts, which are scattered at irregularintervals through the woods in the rear of the mansion, there is not ahuman habitation within an hour's ride; but such a cosy, inviting, hospitable atmosphere surrounds the whole place, that a stranger doesnot realize he has happened upon it in a wilderness. 

The interior of the dwelling is in keeping with the exterior, though inthe drawing-rooms, where rich furniture and fine paintings actuallylumber the apartments, there is evident the lack of a nice perception ofthe "fitness of things, " and over the whole hangs a "dusty air, " whichreminds one that the Milesian Bridget does not "flourish" in SouthCarolina. 

I was met in the entrance-way by a tall, fine-looking woman, to whom theColonel introduced me as follows:

"Mr. K----, this is Madam P----, my housekeeper; she will try to makeyou forget that Mrs. J---- is absent. "

After a few customary courtesies were exchanged, I was shown to adressing-room, and with the aid of Jim, a razor, and one of theColonel's shirts--all of mine having undergone a drenching--soon made atolerably presentable appearance. The negro then conducted me to thebreakfast-room, where I found the family assembled. 

It consisted, besides the housekeeper, of a tall, raw-boned, sandy-haired personage, with a low brow, a blear eye, and a sneakinglook--the overseer of the plantation; and of a well-mannered, intelligent lad--with the peculiarly erect carriage and uncommonblending of good-natured ease and dignity which distinguished myhost--who was introduced to me as the housekeeper's son. 

Madam P----, who presided over the "tea-things, " was a person of perhapsthirty-five, but a rich olive complexion, enlivened by a delicate redtint, and relieved by thick masses of black hair, made her appear to acasual observer several years younger. Her face bore vestiges of greatbeauty, which time, and, perhaps, care, had mellowed but notobliterated, and her conversation indicated high cultivation. She hadevidently mingled in refined society in this country and in Europe, andit was a strange freak of fortune that had reduced her to a menialcondition in the family of a backwoods planter. 

After some general conversation, the Colonel remarked that his wife anddaughter would pass the winter in Charleston. 

"And do _you_ remain on the plantation?" I inquired. 

"Oh yes, I am needed here, " he replied; "but Madam's son is with myfamily. "

"Madam's son!" I exclaimed in astonishment, forgetting in my surprisethat the lady was present. 

"Yes, sir, " she remarked, "my oldest boy is twenty. "

"Excuse me, Madam; I forgot that in your climate one never grows old. "

"There you are wrong, sir; I'm sure I _feel_ old when I think how soonmy boys will be men. "

"Not old yet, Alice, " said the Colonel, in a singularly familiar tone;"you seem to me no older than when you were fifteen. "

"You have been long acquainted, " I remarked, not knowing exactly what tosay. 

"Oh, yes, " replied my host, "we were children together. "

"Your Southern country, Madam, affords a fine field for young men ofenterprise. "

"My eldest son resides in Germany, " replied the lady. "He expects tomake that country his home. He would have passed his examination atHeidelberg this autumn had not circumstances called him here. "

"You are widely separated, " I replied. 

"Yes, sir; his father thinks it best, and I suppose it is. Thomas, here, is to return with his brother, and I may live to see neither ofthem again. "

My curiosity was naturally much excited to learn more, but nothingfurther being volunteered, and the conversation soon turning to othertopics, I left the table with it unsatisfied. 

After enjoying a quiet hour with the Colonel in the smoking-room, heinvited me to join him in a ride over the plantation. I gladly assented, and Jim shortly announced the horses were in waiting. That darky, whoinvariably attended his master when the latter proceeded from home, accompanied us. As we were mounting I bethought me of Scip, and askedwhere he was. 

"He'm gwine to gwo, massa, and want to say good-by to you. "

It seemed madness for Scip to start on a journey of seventy mileswithout rest, so I requested the Colonel to let him remain till the nextday. He cheerfully assented, and sent Jim to find him. While waiting forthe darky, I spoke of how faithfully he had served me during my journey. 

"He's a splendid nigger, " replied the Colonel; "worth his weight ingold. If affairs were more settled I would buy him. "

"But Colonel A---- tells me he is too intelligent. He objects to'knowing' niggers. "

"_I_ do not, " replied my host, "if they are honest, and I would trustScip with uncounted gold. Look at him, " he continued, as the negroapproached; "were flesh and bones ever better put together?"

The darky _was_ a fine specimen of sable humanity, and I readilyunderstood why the practiced eye of the Colonel appreciated his physicaldevelopments. 

"Scip, " I said, "you must not think of going to-day; the Colonel will beglad to let you remain until you are fully rested. "

"Tank you, massa, tank you bery much, but de ole man will spec' me, andI orter gwo. "

"Oh, never mind old----, " said the Colonel, "I'll take care of him. "

"Tank you, Cunnel, den I'll stay har till de mornin'. "

Taking a by-path which led through the forest in the rear of themansion, we soon reached a small stream, and, following its course for ashort distance, came upon a turpentine distillery, which the Colonelexplained to me was one of three that prepared the product of hisplantation for market, and provided for his family of nearly threehundred souls. 

It was enclosed, or rather roofed, by a rude structure of rough boards, which was open at the sides, and sustained on a number of pine polesabout thirty feet in height, and bore a strong resemblance to the usualcovering of a New England haystack. 

Three stout negro men, divested of all clothing excepting a pair ofcoarse gray trowsers and a red shirt--it was a raw, cold, wintryday--and with cotton bandannas bound about their heads, were "tendingthe still. " The foreman stood on a raised platform level with its top, but as we approached very quietly seated himself on a turpentine barrelwhich a moment before he had rolled over the mouth of the boiler. Another negro was below, feeding the fire with "light wood, " and a thirdwas tending the trough by which the liquid rosin found its way into thesemicircle of rough barrels intended for its reception. 

"Hello, Junius, what in creation are you doing there?" asked theColonel, as we approached, of the negro on the turpentine barrel. 

"Holein' her down, Cunnel; de ole ting got a mine to blow up dismornin'; I'se got dis barrl up har to hole her down. "

"Why, you everlasting nigger, if the top leaks you'll be blown toeternity in half a second. "

"Reckon not, massa; be barrl and me kin hole her. We'll take de risk. "

"Perhaps _you_ will, " said the Colonel, laughing, "but I wont. Niggerproperty isn't of much account, but you're too good a darky, June, to besent to the devil for a charge of turpentine. "

"Tank you, massa, but you dun kno' dis ole ting like I do. You cudn'tblow her up nohow; I'se tried her afore dis way. "

"Don't you do it again; now mind; if you do I'll make a white man ofyou. " (This I suppose referred to a process of flaying with a whip;though the whip is generally thought to _redden_, not _whiten_, thenegro. )

The black did not seem at all alarmed, for he showed his ivories in abroad grin as he replied, "Jess as you say, massa; you'se de boss in disshanty. "

Directing the fire to be raked out, and the still to stand unused untilit was repaired, the Colonel turned his horse to go, when he observedthat the third negro was shoeless, and his feet chapped and swollen withthe cold. "Jake, " he said, "where are your shoes?"

"Wored out, massa. "

"Worn out! Why haven't you been to me?"

"'Cause, massa, I know'd you'd jaw; you tole me I wears 'em out mightyfass. "

"Well, you do, that's a fact; but go to Madam and get a pair; and you, June, you've been a decent nigger, you can ask for a dress for Rosy. Howis little June?"

"Mighty pore, massa; de ma'am war dar lass night and dis mornin', andshe reckun he'm gwine to gwo, sartain. "

"Sorry to hear that, " said the Colonel. "I'll go and see him. Don't feelbadly, June, " he continued, for the tears welled up to the eyes of theblack man as he spoke of his child; "we all must die. "

"I knows dat, massa, but it am hard to hab 'em gwo. "

"Yes, it is, June, but we may save him. "

"Ef you cud, massa! Oh, ef you cud!" and the poor darky covered his facewith his great hands and sobbed like a child. 

We rode on to another "still, " and there dismounting, the Colonelexplained to me the process of gathering and manufacturing turpentine. The trees are "boxed" and "tapped" early in the year, while the frost isstill in the ground. "Boxing" is the process of scooping a cavity in thetrunk of the tree by means of a peculiarly shaped axe, made for thepurpose; "tapping" is scarifying the rind of the wood above the boxes. This is never done until the trees have been worked one season, but itis then repeated year after year, till on many plantations they presentthe marks of twenty and frequently thirty annual "tappings, " and areoften denuded of bark for a distance of thirty feet from the ground. Thenecessity for this annual tapping arises from the fact that the scar onthe trunk heals at the end of a season, and the sap will no longer runfrom it; a fresh wound is therefore made each spring. The sap flows downthe scarified surface and collects in the boxes, which are emptied sixor eight times in a year, according to the length of the season. This isthe process of "dipping, " and it is done with a tin or iron vesselconstructed to fit the cavity in the tree. 

The turpentine gathered from the newly boxed or virgin tree is veryvaluable, on account of its producing a peculiarly clear and whiterosin, which is used in the manufacture of the finer kinds of soap, andby "Rosin the Bow. " It commands, ordinarily, nearly five times the priceof the common article. When barrelled, the turpentine is frequently sentto market in its crude state, but more often is distilled on theplantation, the gatherers generally possessing means sufficient to owna still. 

In the process of distilling, the crude turpentine is "dumped" into theboiler through an opening in the top--the same as that on which we sawJunius composedly seated--water is then poured upon it, the aperturemade tight by screwing down the cover and packing it with clay, a firebuilt underneath, and when the heat reaches several hundred degreesFahrenheit, the process of manufacture begins. The volatile and morevaluable part of the turpentine, by the action of the heat, rises asvapor, then condensing flows off through a pipe in the top of the still, and comes out spirits of turpentine, while the heavier portion findsvent at a lower aperture, and comes out rosin. 

No article of commerce is so liable to waste and leakage as turpentine. The spirits can only be preserved in tin cans, or in thoroughly seasonedoak barrels, made tight by a coating of glue on the inner side. Thoughthe material for these barrels exists at the South in luxuriantabundance, they are all procured from the North, and the closing of theSouthern ports has now entirely cut off the supply; for while theturpentine farmer may improvise coopers, he can by no process give theoak timber the seasoning which is needed to render the barrelspirit-tight. Hence it is certain that a large portion of the last cropof turpentine must have gone to waste. When it is remembered that theone State of North Carolina exports annually nearly twenty millions invalue of this product, and employs fully two-thirds of its negroes inits production, it will be seen how dearly the South is paying for themad freak of secession. Putting out of view his actual loss of produce, how does the turpentine farmer feed and employ his negroes? and pressedas these blacks inevitably are by both hunger and idleness, thoseprolific breeders of sedition, what will keep them quiet?

"What effect will secession have on your business?" I asked the Colonel, after a while. 

"A favorable one. I shall ship my crop direct to Liverpool and London, instead of selling it to New York middle-men. "

"But is not the larger portion of the turpentine crop consumed at theNorth?"

"Oh, yes. We shall have to deal with the Yankees anyhow, but we shall doas little with them as possible. "

"Suppose the Yankees object to your setting up by yourselves, and putyour ports under lock and key?"

"They wont do that, and if they do, England will break the blockade. "

"We may rap John Bull over the knuckles in that event, " I replied. 

"Well, suppose you do; what then?"

"Merely, England would not have a ship in six months to carry yourcotton. A war with her would ruin the shipping trade of the North. Ourmarine would seek employment at privateering, and soon sweep everyBritish merchant ship from the ocean. We could afford to give up tenyears' trade with you, and to put secession down by force, for the sakeof a year's brush with John Bull. "

"But, my good friend, where would the British navy be all this while?"

"Asleep. The English haven't a steamer that can catch a Brookhavenschooner. The last war proved that government vessels are no match forprivateers. "

"Well, well! but the Yankees wont fight. "

"Suppose they do. Suppose they shut up your ports, and leave you withyour cotton and turpentine unsold? You raise scarcely any thingelse--what would you eat?"

"We would turn our cotton fields into corn and wheat. Turpentine-makers, of course, would suffer. "

"Then why are not _you_ a Union man?"

"My friend, I have nearly three hundred mouths to feed. I depend on thesale of my crop to give them food. If our ports are closed, I cannot doit--they will starve, and I be ruined. But sooner than submit to thedomination of the cursed Yankees, I will see my negroes starving, and mychild a beggar!"

At this point in the conversation we arrived at the negro shanty wherethe sick child was. Dismounting, the Colonel and I entered. 

The cabin was almost a counterpart of the "Mills House, " described inthe previous chapter, but it had a plank flooring, and was scrupulouslyneat and clean. The logs were stripped of bark, and whitewashed. Abright, cheerful fire was blazing on the hearth, and an air of rudecomfort pervaded the whole interior. On a low bed in the farther cornerof the room lay the sick child. He was a boy of about twelve years, andevidently in the last stages of consumption. By his side, bending overhim as if to catch his almost inaudible words, sat a tidy, youthful-looking colored woman, his mother, and the wife of the negro wehad met at the "still. " Playing on the floor, was a younger child, perhaps five years old, but while the faces of the mother and the sicklad were of the hue of charcoal, _his_ skin by a process well understoodat the South, had been bleached to a bright yellow. 

The woman took no notice of our entrance, but the little fellow ran tothe Colonel and caught hold of the skirts of his coat in a free-and-easyway, saying, "Ole massa, you got suffin' for Dicky?"

"No, you little nig, " replied the Colonel, patting his woolly head as Imight have done a white child's, "Dicky isn't a good boy. "

"Yas, I is, " said the little darky; "you'se ugly ole massa to gibnuffin' to Dick. "

Aroused by the Colonel's voice, the woman turned toward us. Her eyeswere swollen, and her face bore traces of deep emotion. 

"Oh massa!" she said, "de chile am dyin'! It'm all along ob his workin'in de swamp--no _man_ orter work dar, let alone a chile like dis. "

"Do you think he is dying, Rosy?" asked the Colonel, approaching thebed-side. 

"Shore, massa, he'm gwine fass. Look at 'im. "

The boy had dwindled to a skeleton, and the skin lay on his face incrimpled folds, like a mask of black crape. His eyes were fixed, and hewas evidently going. 

"Don't you know massa, my boy?" said the Colonel, taking his handtenderly in his. 

The child's lips slightly moved, but I could hear no sound. The Colonelput his ear down to him for a moment, then, turning to me, said:

"He _is_ dying. Will you be so good as to step to the house and askMadam P---- here, and please tell Jim to go for Junius and the old man. "

I returned in a short while with the lady, but found the boy's fatherand "the old man"--the darky preacher of the plantation--there beforeus. The preacher was a venerable old negro, much bowed by years, andwith thin wool as white as snow. When we entered, he was bending overthe dying boy, but shortly turning to my host, said:

"Massa, de blessed Lord am callin' for de chile--shall we pray?"

The Colonel nodded assent, and we all, blacks and whites, knelt down onthe floor, while the old preacher made a short, heart-touching prayer. It was a simple, humble acknowledgment of the dependence of the creatureon the Creator--of His right to give and to take away, and was utteredin a free, conversational tone, as if long communion with his Maker hadplaced the old negro on a footing of friendly familiarity with Him, andgiven the black slave the right to talk with the Deity as one man talkswith another. 

As we rose from our knees my host said to me, "It is _my_ duty to stayhere, but I will not detain _you_. Jim will show you over theplantation. I will join you at the house when this is over. " The scenewas a painful one, and I gladly availed myself of the Colonel'ssuggestion. 

Mounting our horses, Jim and I rode off to the negro house where Scipwas staying. 

Scip was not at the cabin, and the old negro woman told us he had beenaway for several hours. 

"Reckon he'll be 'way all day, sar, " said Jim, as we turned our horsesto go. 

"He ought to be resting against the ride of to-morrow. Where has hegone?"

"Dunno, sar, but reckon he'm gwine to fine Sam. "

"Sam? Oh, he's the runaway the Colonel has advertised. "

"Yas, sar, he'm 'way now more'n a monfh. "

"How can Scip find him?"

"Dunno, sar. Scipio know most ebery ting--reckon he'll track him. Heknow him well, and Sam'll cum back ef he say he orter. "

"Where do you think Sam is?"

"P'raps in de swamp. "

"Where is the swamp?"

"'Bout ten mile from har. "

"Oh, yes! the shingles are cut there. I should think a runaway would bediscovered where so many men are at work. "

"No, massa, dar'm places dar whar de ole debble cudn't fine him, nor dedogs nudder. "

"I thought the bloodhounds would track a man anywhere. "

"Not fru de water, massa; dey lose de scent in de swamp. "

"But how can a man live there--how get food?"

"De darkies dat work dar take 'em nuff. "

"Then the other negroes know where the runaways are; don't theysometimes betray them?"

"Neber, massa; a darky neber tells on anoder. De Cunnel had a boy in datswamp once good many years. "

"Is it possible! Did he come back?"

"No, he died dar. Sum ob de hands found him dead one mornin' in de hutwhar he lib'd, and buried him dar. "

"Why did Sam run away?"

"'Cause de oberseer flog him. He use him bery hard, massa. "

"What had Sam done?"

"Nuffin, massa. "

"Then why was he flogged? Did the Colonel know it?"

"Oh, yas; Moye cum de possum ober de Cunnel, and make him b'lieve Samwar bad. De Cunnel dunno de hull ob dat story. "

"Why didn't _you_, tell him? The Colonel trusts _you_. "

"'T wudn't hab dun no good; de Cunnel wud hab flogged me for tellin' ona wite man. Nigga's word aint ob no account. "

"What is the story about, Sam?"

"You wont tell dat _I_ tole you, massa?"

"No, but I'll tell the Colonel the truth. "

"Wal den, sar, you see Sam's wife am bery good-lookin', her skin's mostwite--her mudder war a mulatter, her fader a wite man--she lub'd Sam'bout as well as de wimmin ginrally lub dar husbands" (Jim was abachelor, and his observation of plantation morals had given him butlittle faith in the sex), "but most ob 'em, ef dey'm married or no, tinkdey must smile on de wite men, so Jule she smiled on de oberseer--so Samtought--and it made him bery jealous. He war sort o' sassy, and deoberseer strung him up, and flog him bery hard. Den Sam took to deswamp, but he didn't know whar to gwo, and de dogs tracked him; he'd ha'got 'way dough ef ole Moye hadn't a shot him; den he cudn't run. DenMoye flogged him till he war 'most dead, and arter dat chained him downin de ole cabin, and gave him 'most nuffin' to eat. De Cunnel war gwineto take Sam to Charles'on and sell him, but somehow he got a file andsawed fru de chain and got 'way in de night to de 'still. ' Den when deoberseer come dar in de mornin', Sam jump on him and 'most kill him. He'd hab sent him whar dar aint no niggas, ef Junius hadn't a holed him. _I'd_ a let de ole debble gwo. "

"Junius, then, is a friend of the overseer. "

"No, sar; _he_ haint no friends, 'cep de debble; but June am a goodnigga, and he said 'twarn't right to kill ole Moye so sudden, for dendar'd be no chance for de Lord to forgib him. "

"Then Sam got away again?"

"Oh yas; nary one but darkies war round, and dey wouldn't hole him. Efdey'd cotched him den, dey'd hung him, shore. "

"Why hung him?"

"'Cause he'd struck a wite man; it'm shore death to do dat. "

"Do you think Scip will bring him back?"

"Yas; 'cause he'm gwine to tell massa de hull story. De Cunnel willb'lieve Scipio ef he _am_ brack. Sam'll know dat, so he'll come back. DeCunnel'll make de State too hot to hole ole Moye, when he fine him out. "

"Does Sam's wife 'smile' on the overseer now?"

"No; she see de trubble she bring on Sam, and she bery sorry. She wontlook at a wite man now. "

During the foregoing conversation, we had ridden for several miles overthe western half of the plantation, and were again near the house. Mylimbs being decidedly stiff and sore from the effect of the previousday's journey, I decided to alight and rest until the hour for dinner. 

I mentioned my jaded condition to Jim, who said:

"Dat's right, massa; come in de house. I'll cure de rumatics; I knowshow to fix dem. "

Fastening the horses at the door, Jim accompanied me to mysleeping-room, where he lighted a fire of pine knots, which in a momentblazed up on the hearth and sent a cheerful glow through the apartment;then, saying he would return after stabling the horses, the darky leftme. 

I took off my boots, drew the sofa near the fire, and stretched myselfat full length upon it. If ever mortal was tired, "I reckon" I was. Itseemed as though every joint and bone in my body had lost the power ofmotion, and sharp, acute pains danced along my nerves, as I have seenthe lightning play along the telegraph wires. My entire system had thetoothache. 

Jim soon returned, bearing in one hand a decanter of "Otard, " and in theother a mug of hot water and a crash towel. 

"I'se got de stuff dat'll fix de rumatics, massa. "

"Thank you, Jim; a glass will do me good. Where did you get it?" Iasked, thinking it strange the Colonel should leave his brandy-bottlewithin reach of the negroes, who have an universal weakness for spirits. 

"Oh, I keeps de keys; de Cunnel hissef hab to come to me when he wantsuffin' to warm hissef. "

It was the fact; Jim had exclusive charge of the wine-cellar; in short, was butler, barber, porter, footman, and body-servant, all combined. 

"Now, massa, you lay right whar you is, and I'll make you ober new inless dan no time. "

And he did; but I emptied the brandy-bottle. Lest my temperance friendsshould be horror-stricken, I will mention, however, that I took thefluid by external absorption. For all rheumatic sufferers, I wouldprescribe hot brandy, in plentiful doses, a coarse towel, and an activeSouthern darky, and if on the first application the patient is notcured, the fault will not be the negro's. Out of mercy to the chivalry, I hope our government, in saving the Union, will not annihilate theorder of body-servants. They are the only perfect institution in theSouthern country, and, so far as I have seen, about the only one worthsaving. 

The dinner-bell sounded a short while after Jim had finished thescrubbing operation, and I went to the table with an appetite I had notfelt for a week. My whole system was rejuvenated, and I am not sure thatI should, at that moment, have declined a wrestling match with Heenanhimself. 

I found at dinner only the overseer and the young son of Madam P----, the Colonel and the lady being still at the cabin of the dying boy. Thedinner, though a queer mixture of viands, would not have disgraced, except, perhaps, in the cooking, the best of our Northern hotels. Venison, bacon, wild fowl, hominy, poultry, corn bread, French"made-dishes, " and Southern "common doin's, " with wines and brandies ofthe choicest brands, were placed on the table together. 

"Dis, massa, " said Jim, "am de raal juice; it hab been in de cellar ebersince de house war built. Massa tole me to gib you some, wid himcomplimen's. "

Passing it to my companions, I drank the Colonel's health in as finewine as I ever tasted. 

I had taken an instinctive dislike to the overseer at thebreakfast-table, and my aversion was not lessened by learning histreatment of Sam; curiosity to know what manner of man he was, however, led me, toward the close of our meal, to "draw him out, " as follows:

"What is the political sentiment, sir, of this section of the State?"

"Wal, I reckon most of the folks 'bout har' is Union; they'm from the'old North, ' and gin'rally pore trash. "

"I have heard that the majority of the turpentine-farmers areenterprising men and good citizens--more enterprising, even, than thecotton and rice planters. "

"Wal, they is enterprisin', 'cause they don't keer for nuthin' 'cep'money. "

"The man who is absorbed in money-getting is generally a quiet citizen. "

"P'raps that's so. But I think a man sh'u'd hev a soul suthin' 'bovedollars. Them folks will take any sort o' sarce from the Yankees, efthey'll only buy thar truck. "

"What do you suffer from the Yankees?"

"Suffer from the Yankees? Don't they steal our niggers, and haint they'lected an ab'lishener for President?"

"I've been at the North lately, but I am not aware that is so. "

"So! it's damnably so, sir. I knows it. We don't mean to stand it enylonger. "

"What will you do?"

"We'll give 'em h--l, ef they want it!"

"Will it not be necessary to agree among yourselves before you do that?I met a turpentine farmer below here who openly declared that he isfriendly to abolishing slavery. He thinks the masters can make moremoney by hiring than by owning the negroes. "

"Yes, that's the talk of them North County[D] fellers, who've squattedround har. We'll hang every mother's son on 'em, by ----. "

"I wouldn't do that: in a free country every man has a right to hisopinions. "

"Not to sech opinions as them. A man may think, but he mustn't thinkonraasonable. "

"I don't know, but it seems to me reasonable, that if the negroes costthese farmers now one hundred and fifty dollars a year, and they couldhire them, if free, for seventy-five or a hundred, that they would makeby abolition. "

"Ab'lish'n! By--, sir, ye aint an ab'lishener, is ye?" exclaimed thefellow, in an excited manner, bringing his hand down on the table in away that set the crockery a-dancing. 

"Come, come, my friend, " I replied, in a mild tone, and as unruffled asa pool of water that has been out of a December night; "you'll knock offthe dinner things, and I'm not quite through. "

"Wal, sir, I've heerd yer from the North, and I'd like to know if yer anab'lishener. "

"My dear sir, you surprise me. You certainly can't expect a modest manlike me to speak of himself. "

"Ye can speak of what ye d-- please, but ye can't talk ab'lish'n har, by--, " he said, again applying his hand to the table, till the platesand saucers jumped up, performed several jigs, then several reels, andthen rolled over in graceful somersaults to the floor. 

At this juncture, the Colonel and Madam P---- entered. 

Observing the fall in his crockery, and the general confusion of things, my host quietly asked, "What's to pay?"

I said nothing, but burst into a fit of laughter at the awkwardpredicament of the overseer. That gentleman also said nothing, butlooked as if he would like to find vent through a rat-hole or awindow-pane. Jim, however, who stood at the back of my chair, gave _his_eloquent thoughts utterance, very much as follows:

"Moye hab 'sulted Massa K----, Cunnel, awful bad. He hab swore a bluestreak at him, and called him a d-- ab'lishener, jess 'cause Massa K----wudn't get mad and sass him back. He hab disgrace your hosspital, Cunnel, wuss dan a nigga. "

The Colonel turned white with rage, and striding up to Moye, seized himby the throat, yelling, rather than speaking, these words: "Youd---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ----, have you dared to insult a guest inmy house?"

"I did'nt mean to 'sult him, " faltered out the overseer, his voicerunning through an entire octave, and changing with the varying pressureof the Colonel's fingers on his throat; "but he said he war anab'lishener. "

"No matter what he said, he is my guest, and in my house he shall saywhat he pleases, by--. Apologize to him, or I'll send you to h--in asecond. "

The fellow turned cringingly to me, and ground out something like this, every word seeming to give him the face-ache:

"I meant no offence, sar; I hope ye'll excuse me. "

This satisfied me, but, before I could reply, the Colonel again seizedhim by the throat and yelled:

"None of your sulkiness; you d-- white-livered hound, ask the gentleman'spardon like a man. "

The fellow then got out, with less effort than before:

"I 'umbly ax yer pardon, sar, very 'umbly, indeed. "

"I am satisfied, sir, " I replied. "I bear you no ill-will. "

"Now go, " said the Colonel; "and in future take your meals in yourcabin. I have none but gentlemen at my table. "

The fellow went. As soon as he closed the door, the Colonel said to me:

"Now, my dear friend, I hope you will pardon _me_ for this occurrence. Isincerely regret you have been insulted in my house. "

"Don't speak of it, my dear sir; the fellow is ignorant, and reallythinks I am an abolitionist. His zeal in politics led to his warmth. Iblame him very little, " I replied. 

"But he lied, Massa K----, " chimed in Jim, very warmly; "you neber saidyou war an ab'lishener. "

"You know what _they_ are, Jim, don't you?" said the Colonel, laughing, and taking no notice of his breach of decorum in wedging black ideasinto a white conversation. 

"Yas, I does dat, " said the darky, grinning. 

"Jim, " said his master, "you're a prince of a nigger, but you talk toomuch; ask me for something to-day, and I reckon you'll get it; but gonow, and tell Chloe (the cook) to get us some dinner. "

The negro left, and, excusing myself, I soon followed suit. 

I went to my room, laid down on the lounge, and soon fell asleep. It wasnearly five o'clock when a slight noise in the apartment awoke me, and, looking up, I saw the Colonel quietly seated by the fire, smoking acigar. His feet were elevated above his head, and he appeared absorbedin no very pleasant reflections. 

"How is the sick boy, Colonel?" I asked. 

"It's all over with him, my friend. He died easy; but 'twas very painfulto me; I feel I have done him wrong. "

"How so?"

"I was away all summer, and that cursed Moye sent him to the swamp totote for the shinglers. It killed him. "

"Then you are not to blame, " I replied. 

"I wish I could feel so. "

The Colonel remained with me till supper-time, evidently much depressedby the events of the morning, which had affected him more than I shouldhave thought possible. I endeavored, by directing his mind to othertopics, to cheer him, and in a measure succeeded. 

While we were seated at the supper table, the black cook entered fromthe kitchen--a one-story shanty, detached from, and in the rear of thehouse--and, with a face expressive of every conceivable emotion a negrocan feel--joy, sorrow, wonder, and fear all combined--exclaimed, "Omassa, massa! dear massa! Sam, O Sam!"

"Sam!" said the Colonel; "what about Sam?"

"Why, he hab--dear, dear massa, don't yer, don't yer hurt him--he habcome back!"

If a bombshell had fallen in the room, a greater sensation could nothave been produced. Every individual arose from the table, and theColonel, striding up and down the apartment, exclaimed:

"Is he mad? The everlasting fool! Why in h--has he come back?"

"Oh, don't ye hurt him massa, " said the black cook, wringing her hands. "Sam hab been bad, bery bad, but he won't be so no more. "

"Stop your noise, aunty, " said the Colonel, but with no harshness in histone. "I shall do what I think right. "

"Send for him, David, " said Madame P----; "let us hear what he has tosay. He would not come back if he meant to be ugly. "

"_Send_ for him, Alice!" replied my host. "He's prouder than Lucifer, and would send me word to come to _him_. I will go. Will you accompanyme, Mr. K----? You'll hear what a runaway nigger thinks of slavery: Samhas the gift of speech, and uses it regardless of persons. "

"Yes, sir, I'll go with pleasure. "

It was about an hour after nightfall when we emerged from the door ofthe mansion and took our way to the negro quarters. The full moon hadrisen half way above the horizon, and the dark pines cast their shadowsaround the little collection of negro huts, which straggled aboutthrough the woods for the distance of a third of a mile. It was dark, but I could distinguish the figure of a man striding along at a rapidpace a few hundred yards in advance of us. 

"Is'nt that Moye?" I asked the Colonel, directing his attention to thereceding figure. 

"I reckon so; that's his gait. He's had a lesson to-day that'll do himgood. "

"I don't like that man's looks, " I replied, carelessly; "but I've heardof singed cats. "

"He _is_ a sneaking d--l, " said the Colonel; "but he's very valuable tome. I never had an overseer who got so much work out of the hands. "

"Is he severe with them?"

"Well, I reckon he is; but a nigger is like a dog--you must flog him tomake him like you. "

"I judge your niggers haven't been flogged into liking Moye. "

"Why, have you heard any of them speak of him?"

"Yes; though, of course, I've made no effort to draw gossip from them. Ihad to hear. "

"O yes; I know; there's no end to their gabble; niggers will talk. Butwhat have you heard?"

"That Moye is to blame in this affair of Sam, and that you don't knowthe whole story. "

"What _is_ the whole story?" he asked, stopping short in the road; "tellme before I see Sam. "

I then told him what Jim had recounted to me. He heard me throughattentively, then laughingly exclaimed:

"Is that all! Lord bless you, he didn't seduce her. There's no seducingthese women; with them it's a thing of course. It was Sam's d-- highblood that made the trouble. His father was the proudest man inVirginia, and Sam is as like him as a nigger can be like a white man. "

"No matter what the blood is, it seems to me such an injury justifiesrevenge. "

"Pshaw, my good fellow, you don't know these people. I'll stake myplantation against a glass of whiskey there's not a virtuous woman witha drop of black blood in her veins in all South Carolina. They preferthe white men; their husbands know it, and take it as a matter ofcourse. "

We had here reached the negro cabin. It was one of the more remote ofthe collection, and stood deep in the woods, an enormous pine growing updirectly beside the doorway. In all respects it was like the other hutson the plantation. A bright fire lit up its interior, and through thecrevices in the logs we saw, as we approached, a scene that made uspause involuntarily, when within a few rods of the house. The mulattoman, whose clothes were torn and smeared with swamp mud, stood near thefire. On a small pine table near him lay a large carving-knife, whichglittered in the blaze, as if recently sharpened. His wife was seated onthe side of the low bed at his back, weeping. She was two or threeshades lighter than the man, and had the peculiar brown, kinky hair, straight, flat nose, and speckled, gray eyes which mark the metif. Tottling on the floor at the feet of the man, and caressing his knees, was a child of perhaps two years. 

As we neared the house, we heard the voice of the overseer issuing fromthe doorway on the other side of the pine-tree. 

"Come out, ye black rascal. "

"Come in, you wite hound, ef you dar, " responded the negro, laying hishand on the carving-knife. 

"Come out, I till ye; I sha'n't ax ye agin. "

"I'll hab nuffin' to do wid you. G'way and send your massa har, " repliedthe mulatto man, turning his face away with a lordly, contemptuousgesture, that spoke him a true descendant of Pocahontas. This movementexposed his left side to the doorway, outside of which, hidden from usby the tree, stood the overseer. 

"Come away, Moye, " said the Colonel, advancing with me toward the door;"_I'll_ speak to him. "

Before all of the words had escaped the Colonel's lips, a streak of fireflashed from where the overseer stood, and took the direction of thenegro. One long, wild shriek--one quick, convulsive bound in theair--and Sam fell lifeless to the floor, the dark life-stream pouringfrom his side. The little child also fell with him, and its greasy, grayish shirt was dyed with its father's blood. Moye, at the distance often feet, had discharged the two barrels of a heavily-loaded shot-gundirectly through the negro's heart. 

"You incarnate son of h--, " yelled the Colonel, as he sprang on theoverseer, bore him to the ground, and wrenched the shot-gun from hishand. Clubbing the weapon, he raised it to brain him. The movementoccupied but a second; the gun was descending, and in another instantMoye would have met Sam in eternity, had not a brawny arm caught theColonel's, and, winding itself around his body, pinned his limbs to hisside so that motion was impossible. The woman, half frantic withexcitement, thrust open the door when her husband fell, and the lightwhich came through it revealed the face of the new-comer. But his voice, which rang out on the night air as clear as a bugle, had there been nolight, would have betrayed him. It was Scip. Spurning the prostrateoverseer with his foot, he shouted:

"Run, you wite debble, run for your life!"

"Let me go, you black scoundrel, " shrieked the Colonel, wild with rage. 

"When he'm out ob reach, you'd kill him, " replied the negro, as cool asif he was doing an ordinary thing. 

"I'll kill you, you black--hound, if you don't let me go, " againscreamed the Colonel, struggling violently in the negro's grasp, andliterally foaming at the mouth. 

"I shan't lef you gwo, Cunnel, till you 'gree not to do dat. "

The Colonel was a stout, athletic man, in the very prime of life, andhis rage gave him more than his ordinary strength, but Scip held him asI might have held a child. 

"Here, Jim, " shouted the Colonel to his body-servant, who just thenemerged from among the trees, "'rouse the plantation--shoot thisd-- nigger. "

"Dar aint one on 'em wud touch him, massa. He'd send _me_ to de debblewid one fist. "

"You ungrateful dog, " groaned his master. "Mr. K----, will you stand byand see me handcuffed by a miserable slave?"

"The black means well, my friend; he has saved you from murder. Say heis safe, and I'll answer for his being away in an hour. "

The Colonel made one more ineffectual attempt to free himself from thevice-like grip of the negro, then relaxing his efforts, and, gatheringhis broken breath, he said, "You're safe _now_, but if you're foundwithin ten miles of my plantation by sunrise, by--you're a dead man. "

The negro relinquished his hold, and, without saying a word, walkedslowly away. 

"Jim, you--rascal, " said the Colonel to that courageous darky, who wasskulking off, "raise every nigger on the plantation, catch Moye, or I'llflog you within an inch of your life. "

"I'll do dat, Cunnel; I'll kotch de ole debble, ef he's dis side de hotplace. "

His words were echoed by about twenty other darkies, who, attracted bythe noise of the fracas, had gathered within a safe distance of thecabin. They went off with Jim, to raise the other plantation hands, andinaugurate the hunt. 

"If that -- nigger hadn't held me, I'd had Moye in -- by this time, " saidthe Colonel to me, still livid with excitement. 

"The law will deal with him, my friend. The negro has saved you frommurder. "

"The law be d--; it's too good for such a--hound; and that the d-- niggershould have dared to hold me--by--he'll rue it. "

He then turned, exhausted with the recent struggle, and, with a weak, uncertain step, entered the cabin. Kneeling down by the dead body of thenegro, he attempted to raise it; but his strength was gone. He motionedto me to aid him, and we placed the corpse on the bed. Tearing open theclothing, we wiped away the still flowing blood, and saw the terriblewound which had sent the negro to his account. It was sickening to lookon, and I turned to go. 

The negro woman, who was weeping and wringing her hands, now approached, and, in a voice nearly choked with sobs, said:

"Massa, oh massa, I done it! it's me dat killed him!"

"I know you did, you d----. Get out of my sight. "

"Oh, massa, " sobbed the woman, falling on her knees, "I'se so sorry; oh, forgib me!"

"Go to ----, you ----, that's the place for you, " said the Colonel, strikingthe kneeling woman with his foot, and felling her to the floor. 

Unwilling to see or hear more, I left the master with the slave. 

[Footnote D: The "North Counties" are the north-eastern portion of NorthCarolina, and include the towns of Washington and Newbern. They are anold turpentine region, and the trees are nearly exhausted. The finervirgin forests of South Carolina, and other cotton States, have temptedmany of the North County farmers to emigrate thither, within the pastten years, and they now own nearly all the trees that are worked inSouth Carolina, Georgia, and Florida. They generally have few slaves oftheir own, their hands being hired of wealthier men in their nativedistricts. The "hiring" is an annual operation, and is done at Christmastime, when the negroes are frequently allowed to go home. They treat theslaves well, give them an allowance of meat (salt pork or beef), as muchcorn as they can eat, and a gill of whiskey daily. No class of men atthe South are so industrious, energetic, and enterprising. Though not sowell informed, they have many of the traits of our New England farmers;in fact, are frequently called "North Carolina Yankees. " It was thesepeople the overseer proposed to hang. The reader will doubtless thinkthat "hanging was not good enough for them. "]

CHAPTER VI. 

THE PLANTER'S "FAMILY. "

A quarter of a mile through the woods brought me to the cabin of the oldnegress where Scip lodged. I rapped at the door, and was admitted by theold woman. Scip, nearly asleep, was lying on a pile of blankets in thecorner. 

"Are you mad?" I said to him. "The Colonel is frantic with rage, andswears he will kill you. You must be off at once. "

"No, no, massa; neber fear; I knows him. He'd keep his word, ef he losshis life by it. I'm gwine afore sunrise; till den I'm safe. "

"Der ye tink Massa Davy wud broke his word, sar?" said the old negress, bridling up her bent form, and speaking in a tone in which indignationmingled with wounded dignity; "p'raps gemmen do dat at de Norf--deyneber does it har. "

"Excuse me, Aunty; I know your master is a man of honor; but he's verymuch excited, and very angry with Scip. "

"No matter for dat, sar; Massa Davy neber done a mean ting sense he warborn. "

"Massa K---- tinks a heap ob de Cunnel, Aunty; but he reckon he'm sorto' crazy now; dat make him afeard, " said Scip, in an apologetic tone. 

"What ef he am crazy? You'se safe _har_, " rejoined the old woman, dropping her aged limbs into a chair, and rocking away with much the airwhich ancient white ladies occasionally assume. 

"Wont you ax Massa K---- to a cheer?" said Scip; "he hab ben bery kineto me. "

The negress then offered me a seat; but it was some minutes before Irendered myself sufficiently agreeable to thaw out the icy dignity ofher manner. Meanwhile I glanced around the apartment. 

Though the exterior of the cabin was like the others on the plantation, the interior had a rude, grotesque elegance about it far in advance ofany negro hut I had ever seen. The logs were chinked with clay, and theone window, though destitute of glass, and ornamented with theinevitable board-shutter, had a green moreen curtain, which kept out thewind and the rain. A worn but neat and well swept carpet partly coveredthe floor, and on the low bed was spread a patch-work counter-pane. Against the side of the room opposite the door stood an antique, brass-handled bureau, and an old-fashioned table, covered with a fadedwoollen cloth, occupied the centre of the apartment. In the corner nearthe fire was a curiously-contrived sideboard, made of narrow strips ofyellow pine, tongued and grooved together, and oiled so as to bring outthe beautiful grain of the wood. On it were several broken and crackedglasses, and an array of irregular crockery. The rocking chair, in whichthe old negress passed the most of her time, was of mahogany, wadded andcovered with chintz, and the arm-seat I occupied, though old and patchedin many places, had evidently moved in good society. 

The mistress of this second-hand furniture establishment was arrayed ina mass of cast-off finery, whose gay colors were in striking contrastwith her jet-black skin and bent, decrepit form. Her gown, which wasvery short, was of flaming red and yellow worsted stuff, and theenormous turban that graced her head and hid all but a few tufts of herfrizzled, "pepper-and-salt" locks, was evidently a contribution from thefamily stock of worn-out pillow-cases. She was very aged--upward ofseventy--and so thin that, had she not been endowed with speech andmotion, she might have passed for a bundle of whalebone thrown intohuman shape, and covered with a coating of gutta-percha. It was evidentshe had been a valued house-servant, whose few remaining years werebeing soothed and solaced by the kind and indulgent care of a gratefulmaster. 

Scip, I soon saw, was a favorite with the old negress, and the markedrespect he showed me quickly dispelled the angry feeling my doubts of"Massa Davy" had excited, and opened her heart and her mouth at the samemoment. She was terribly garrulous; her tongue, as soon as it got underway, ran on as if propelled by machinery and acquainted with the secretof perpetual motion; but she was an interesting study. Thesingle-hearted attachment she showed for her master and his family gaveme a new insight into the practical working of "the peculiarinstitution, " and convinced me that even slavery, in some of itsaspects, is not so black as it is painted. 

When we were seated, I said to Scip, "What induced you to lay hands onthe Colonel? It is death, you know, if he enforces the law. "

"I knows dat, massa; I knows dat; but I had to do it. Dat Moye am de oledebble, but de folks round har wud hab turned on de Cunnel, shore, efhe'd killed him. Dey don't like de Cunnel; dey say he'm a stuck-upseshener. "

"The Colonel, then, has befriended you at some time?"

"No, no, sar; 'twarn't dat; dough I'se know'd him a long w'ile--ebersense my ole massa fotched me from Habana--but 'twarn't dat. "

"Then _why_ did you do it?"

The black hesitated a moment, and glanced at the old negress, then said:

"You see, massa, w'en I fuss come to Charles'n, a pore little ting, widno friend in all de worle, dis ole aunty war a mudder to me. She nussedde Cunnel; he am jess like her own chile, and I know'd 'twud kill her efhe got hissef enter trubble. "

I noticed certain convulsive twitchings about the corners of the oldwoman's mouth as she rose from her seat, threw her arms around Scip, and, in words broken by sobs, faltered out:

"_You_ am my chile; I loves you better dan Massa Davy--better dan all deworle. "

The scene, had they not been black, would have been one for a painter. 

"You were the Colonel's nurse, Aunty, " I said, when she had regained hercomposure. "Have you always lived with him?"

"Yas, sar, allers; I nussed him, and den de chil'ren--all ob 'em. "

"_All_ the children? I thought the Colonel had but one--Miss Clara. "

"Wal, he habn't, massa, only de boys. "

"What boys? I never heard he had sons. "

"Neber heerd of young Massa Davy, nor Massa Tommy! Haint you _seed_Massa Tommy, sar?"

"Tommy! I was told he was Madam P----'s son. "

"So he am; Massa Davy had _her_ long afore he had missus. "

The truth flashed upon me; but could it be possible? Was I in SouthCarolina or in Utah?

"Who _is_ Madam P----?" I asked. 

The old woman hesitated a moment as if in doubt whether she had not saidtoo much; but Scip quietly replied:

"She'm jess what aunty am--_de Cunnel's slave!_"

"His _slave!_ it can't be possible; she is white!"

"No, massa; she am brack, and de Cunnel's slave!"

Not to weary the reader with a long repetition of negro-English, I willtell in brief what I gleaned from an hour's conversation with the twoblacks. 

Madam P---- was the daughter of Ex-Gov. ----, of Virginia, by a quarteronwoman. She was born a slave, but was acknowledged as her father's child, and reared in his family with his legitimate children. When she was tenyears old her father died, and his estate proving insolvent, the landand negroes were brought under the hammer. His daughter, never havingbeen manumitted, was inventoried and sold with the other property. TheColonel, then just of age, and a young man of fortune, bought her andtook her to the residence of his mother in Charleston. A governess wasprovided for her, and a year or two afterward she was taken to the Northto be educated. There she was frequently visited by the Colonel; andwhen fifteen her condition became such that she was obliged to returnhome. He conveyed her to the plantation, where her elder son, David, wassoon after born, "Aunt Lucy" officiating on the occasion. When the childwas two years old, leaving it in charge of the aged negress, sheaccompanied the Colonel to Europe, where they remained for a year. Subsequently she passed another year at a Northern seminary; and then, returning to the homestead, was duly installed as its mistress, and hadever since presided over its domestic affairs. She was kind and good tothe negroes, who were greatly attached to her, and much of theColonel's wealth was due to her excellent management of the plantation. 

Six years after the birth of "young Massa Davy, " the Colonel married hispresent wife, that lady having full knowledge of his left-handedconnection with Madam P----, and consenting that the "bond-woman" shouldremain on the plantation, as its mistress. The legitimate wife resided, during most of the year, in Charleston, and when at the homestead tooklittle interest in domestic matters. On one of her visits to theplantation, twelve years before, her daughter, Miss Clara, was born, andwithin a week, under the same roof, Madam P---- presented the Colonelwith a son--the lad Thomas, of whom I have spoken. As the mother wasslave, the children were so also at birth, but _they_ had beenmanumitted by their father. One of them was being educated in Germany;and it was intended that both should spend their lives in that country, the taint in their blood being an insuperable bar to their everacquiring social position at the South. 

As she finished the story, the old woman said, "Massa Davy am bery kindto the missus, sar, but he _love_ de ma'am; an' he can't help it, 'causeshe'm jess so good as de angels. "[E]

In conversation with a well-known Southern gentleman, not long since, Imentioned these two cases, and commented on them as a man educated withNew England ideas might be supposed to do. The gentleman admitted thathe knew of twenty such instances, and gravely defended the practice asbeing infinitely more moral and respectable than the _more commonrelation_ existing between masters and slaves. 

I looked at my watch--it was nearly ten o'clock, and I rose to go. As Idid so the old negress said:

"Don't yer gwo, massa, 'fore you hab sum ob aunty's wine; you'm goodfriends wid Scip, and I knows _you'se_ not too proud to drink wid brackfolks, ef you am from de Norf. "

Being curious to know what quality of wine a plantation slave indulgedin, I accepted the invitation. She went to the side-board, and broughtout a cut-glass decanter, and three cracked tumblers, which she placedon the table. Filling the glasses to the brim, she passed one to Scip, and one to me, and, with the other in her hand, resumed her seat. Wishing her a good many happy years, and Scip a pleasant journey home, Iemptied my glass. It was Scuppernong, and the pure juice of the grape!

"Aunty, " I said, "this wine is as fine as I ever tasted. "

"Oh, yas, massa, it am de raal stuff. I growed de grapes myseff. "

"You grew them?"

"Yas, sar, an' Massa Davy make de wine. He do it ebery yar for de olenuss. "

"The Colonel is very good. Do you raise any thing else?"

"Yas, I hab collards and taters, a little corn, and most ebery ting. "

"But who does your work? _You_ certainly can't do it?"

"Oh, de ma'am looks arter dat, sar; she'm bery good to de ole aunty. "

Shaking hands with both the negroes, I left the cabin, fully convincedthat all the happiness in this world is not found within plasteredapartments. 

The door of the mansion was bolted and barred; but, rapping foradmission, I soon heard the Colonel's voice asking, "Who is there?"Giving a satisfactory answer, I was admitted. Explaining that hesupposed I had retired to my room, he led the way to the library. 

That apartment was much more elegantly furnished than the drawing-rooms. Three of its sides were lined with books, and on the centre-table, papers, pamphlets, and manuscripts were scattered in promiscuousconfusion. In an arm-chair near the fire, Madame P---- was seated, reading. The Colonel's manner was as composed as if nothing haddisturbed the usual routine of the plantation; no trace of the recentterrible excitement was visible; in fact, had I not been a witness tothe late tragedy, I should have thought it incredible that he, withintwo hours, had been an actor in a scene which had cost a human being hislife. 

"Where in creation have you been, my dear fellow?" he asked, as we tookour seats. 

"At old Lucy's cabin, with Scip, " I replied. 

"Indeed. I supposed the darky had gone. "

"No, he doesn't go till the morning. "

"I told you he wouldn't, David, " said Madame P----; "now, send forhim--make friends with him before he goes. "

"No, Alice, it wont do. I bear him no ill-will, but it wont do. It wouldbe all over the plantation in an hour. "

"No matter for that; our people would like you the better for it. "

"No, no. I can't do it. I mean him no harm, but I can't do that. "

"He told me _why_ he interfered between you and Moye, " I remarked. 

"Why did he?"

"He says old Lucy, years ago, was a mother to him; that she is greatlyattached to you, and it would kill her if any harm happened to you; andthat your neighbors bear you no good-will, and would have enforced thelaw had you killed Moye. "

"It is true, David; you would have had to answer for it. "

"Nonsense! what influence could this North County scum have against_me_?"

"Perhaps none. But that makes no difference; Scipio did right, and youshould tell him you forgive him. "

The Colonel then rang a small bell, and a negro woman soon appeared. "Sue, " he said, "go to Aunt Lucy's, and ask Scip to come here. Bring himin at the front door, and, mind, let no one know he comes. "

The woman in a short time returned with Scip. There was not a trace offear or embarrassment in the negro's manner as he entered the room. Making a respectful bow, he bade us "good evening. "

"Good evening, Scip, " said the Colonel, rising and giving the black hishand; "let us be friends. Madam tells me I should forgive you, and Ido. "

"Aunt Lucy say ma'am am an angel, sar, and it am tru--_it am tru_, sar, "replied the negro with considerable feeling. 

The lady rose, also, and took Scip's hand, saying, "_I_ not only forgiveyou, but I _thank_ you for what you have done. I shall never forget it. "

"You'se too good, ma'am; you'se too good to say dat, " replied the darky, the moisture coming to his eyes; "but I meant nuffin' wrong--I meantnuffin' dis'specful to de Cunnel. "

"I know you didn't, Scip; but we'll say no more about it;--good-by, "said the Colonel. 

Shaking hands with each one of us, the darky left the apartment. 

One who does not know that the high-bred Southern gentleman considersthe black as far below him as the horse he drives, or the dog he kicks, cannot realize the amazing sacrifice of pride which the Colonel made inseeking a reconciliation with Scip. It was the cutting off of his righthand. The circumstance showed the powerful influence held over him bythe octoroon woman. Strange that she, his slave, cast out from societyby her blood and her life, despised, no doubt, by all the world, save byhim and a few ignorant blacks, should thus control a proud, self-willed, passionate man, and control him, too, only for good. 

After the black had gone, I said to the Colonel, "I was much interestedin old Lucy. A few more such instances of cheerful and contented oldage, might lead me to think better of slavery. "

"Such cases are not rare, sir. They show the paternal character of our'institution. ' We are _forced_ to care for our servants in their oldage. "

"But have your other aged slaves the same comforts that Aunt Lucy has?"

"No; they don't need them. She has been accustomed to live in my house, and to fare better than the plantation hands; she therefore requiresbetter treatment. "

"Is not the support of that class a heavy tax upon you?"

"Yes, it _is_ heavy. We have, of course, to deduct it from the labor ofthe able-bodied hands. "

"What is the usual proportion of sick and infirm on your plantation?"

"Counting in the child-bearing women, I reckon about twenty per cent. "

"And what does it cost you to support each hand?"

"Well, it costs _me_, for children and all, about seventy-five dollars ayear. In some places it costs less. _I_ have to buy all my provisions. "

"What proportion of your slaves are able-bodied hands?"

"Somewhere about sixty per cent. I have, all told, old and young--men, women, and children--two hundred and seventy. Out of that number I havenow equal to a hundred and fifty-four _full_ hands. You understand thatwe classify them: some do only half tasks, some three-quarters. I have_more_ than a hundred and fifty-four working-men and women, but they doonly that number of full tasks. "

"What does the labor of a _full_ hand yield?"

"At the present price of turpentine, my calculation is about two hundreddollars a year. "

"Then your crop brings you about thirty-one thousand dollars, and thesupport of your negroes costs you twenty thousand. "

"Yes. "

"If that's the case, my friend, let me advise you to sell yourplantation, free your niggers, and go North. "

"Why so, my dear fellow?" asked the Colonel laughing. 

"Because you'd make money by the operation. "

"I never was good at arithmetic; go into the figures, " he replied, stilllaughing, while Madam P----, who had laid aside her book, listened veryattentively. 

"Well, you have two hundred and seventy negroes, whom you value, we'llsay, with your mules, 'stills, ' and movable property, at two hundredthousand dollars; and twenty thousand acres of land, worth about threedollars and a half an acre; all told, two hundred and seventy thousanddollars. A hundred and fifty-four able-bodied hands produce you a yearlyprofit of eleven thousand dollars, which, saying nothing about the costof keeping your live stock, the wear and tear of your mules andmachinery, and the yearly loss of your slaves by death, is only four percent. On your capital. Now, with only the price of your land, sayseventy thousand dollars, invested in safe stocks at the North, youcould realize eight per cent. --five thousand six hundred dollars--andlive at ease; and that, I judge, if you have many runaways, or many dieon your hands, is as much as you really _clear_ now. Besides, if youshould invest seventy thousand dollars in almost any legitimate businessat the North, and should add to it, _as you now do_, your _time_ and_labor_, you would realize far more than you do at present from yourentire capital. "

"I never looked at the matter in that light. But I have given you myprofits as they _now_ are; some years I make more; six years ago I madetwenty-five thousand dollars. "

"Yes; and six years hence you may make nothing. "

"That's true. But it would cost me more to live at the North. "

"There you are mistaken. What do you pay for your corn, your pork, andyour hay, for instance?"

"Well, my corn I have to bring round by vessel from Washington (NorthCarolina), and it costs me high when it gets here--about ten bits (adollar and twenty-five cents), I think. "

"And in New York you could buy it now at sixty to seventy cents. Whatdoes your hay cost?"

"Thirty-five dollars. I pay twenty for it in New York--the balance isfreight and hauling. "

"Your pork costs you two or three dollars, I suppose, for freight andhauling. "

"Yes; about that. "

"Then in those items you might save nearly a hundred per cent. ; and theyare the principal articles you consume. "

"Yes; there's no denying that. But another thing is just as certain: itcosts less to support one of my niggers than one of your laboring men. "

"That may be true. But it only shows that our laborers fare better thanyour slaves. "

"I am not sure of that. I _am_ sure, however, that our slaves are morecontented than the run of laboring men at the North. "

"That proves nothing. Your blacks have no hope, no chance to rise; andthey submit--though I judge not cheerfully--to an iron necessity. TheNorthern laborer, if very poor, may be discontented; but discontenturges him to effort, and leads to the bettering of his condition. I tellyou, my friend, slavery is an expensive luxury. You Southern nabobs_will_ have it; and you have to _pay for it_. "

"Well, we don't complain. But, seriously, my good fellow, I feel that Iam carrying out the design of the Almighty in holding my niggers. Ithink he made the black to serve the white. "

"_I_ think, " I replied, "that whatever He designs works perfectly. Yourinstitution certainly does not. It keeps the producer, who, in everysociety, is the really valuable citizen, in the lowest poverty, while itallows those who do nothing to be 'clad in fine linen, and to faresumptuously every day. '"

"It does more than that, sir, " said Madam P----, with animation; "itbrutalizes and degrades the _master_ and the _slave_; it separateshusband and wife, parent and child; it sacrifices virtuous women to thelust of brutal men; and it shuts millions out from the knowledge oftheir duty and their destiny. A good and just God could not havedesigned it; and it _must_ come to an end. "

If lightning had struck in the room I could not have been more startledthan I was by the abrupt utterance of such language in a planter'shouse, in his very presence, and _by his slave_. The Colonel, however, expressed no surprise and no disapprobation. It was evidently no newthing to him. 

"It is rare, madam, " I said, "to hear such sentiments from a Southernlady--one reared among slaves. "

Before she could reply, the Colonel laughingly said:

"Bless you, Mr. K----, madam is an out-and-out abolitionist, worse byfifty per cent. Than Garrison or Wendell Phillips. If she were at theNorth she would take to pantaloons, and 'stump' the entire free States;wouldn't you, Alice?"

"I have no doubt of it, " rejoined the lady, smiling. "But I fear Ishould have poor success. I've tried for ten years to convert _you_, andMr. K---- can see the result. "

It had grown late; and with my head full of working niggers and whiteslave-women, I went to my apartment. 

The next day was Sunday. It was near the close of December, yet the airwas as mild and the sun as warm as in our Northern October. It wasarranged at the breakfast-table that we all should attend service at"the meeting-house, " a church of the Methodist persuasion, located someeight miles away; but as it wanted some hours of the time for religiousexercises to commence, I strolled out after breakfast, with the Colonel, to inspect the stables of the plantation. "Massa Tommy" accompanied us, without invitation; and in the Colonel's intercourse with him I observedas much freedom and familiarity as he would have shown to anacknowledged son. The youth's manners and conversation showed that greatattention had been given to his education and training, and made itevident that the mother whose influence was forming his character, whatever a false system of society had made her life, possessed some ofthe best traits of her sex. 

The stables, a collection of one-story framed buildings, about a hundredrods from the house, were well lighted and ventilated, and contained all"the modern improvements. " They were better built, warmer, morecommodious, and in every way more comfortable than the shanties occupiedby the human cattle of the plantation. I remarked as much to theColonel, adding that one who did not know would infer that he valued hishorses more than his slaves. 

"That may be true, " he replied, laughing. "Two of my horses are worthmore than any eight of my slaves;" at the same time calling my attentionto two magnificent thorough-breds, one of which had made "2. 32" on theCharleston course. The establishment of a Southern gentleman is notcomplete until it includes one or two of these useless appendages. I hadan argument with my host as to their value compared with that of thesteam-engine, in which I forced him to admit that the iron horse is thebetter of the two, because it performs more work, eats less, has greaterspeed, and is not liable to the spavin or the heaves; but he wound up bysaying, "After all, I go for the thorough-breds. You Yankees have butone test of value--use. "

A ramble through the negro-quarters, which followed our visit to thestables, gave me some further glimpses of plantation life. Many of thehands were still away in pursuit of Moye, but enough remained to make itevident that Sunday is the happiest day in the darky calendar. Groups ofall ages and colors were gathered in front of several of the cabins, some singing, some dancing, and others chatting quietly together, butall enjoying themselves as heartily as so many young animals let loosein a pasture. They saluted the Colonel and me respectfully, but each onehad a free, good-natured word for "Massa Tommy, " who seemed an especialfavorite with them. The lad took their greetings in good part, butpreserved an easy, unconscious dignity of manner that plainly showed hedid not know that _he_ too was of their despised, degraded race. 

The Colonel, in a rapid way, gave me the character and peculiarities ofnearly every one we met. The titles of some of them amused me greatly. At every step we encountered individuals whose names have becomehousehold words in every civilized country. [F] Julius Cæsar, slightlystouter than when he swam the Tiber, and somewhat tanned from longexposure to a Southern sun, was seated on a wood-pile, quietly smoking apipe; while near him, Washington, divested of regimentals, and clad in amodest suit of reddish-gray, his thin locks frosted by time, and hisfleshless visage showing great age, was gazing, in rapt admiration, at agroup of dancers in front of old Lucy's cabin. 

In this group about thirty men and women were making the ground quakeand the woods ring with their unrestrained jollity. Marc Antony wasrattling away at the bones, Nero fiddling as if Rome were burning, andHannibal clawing at a banjo as if the fate of Carthage hung on itsstrings. Napoleon, as young and as lean as when he mounted the bridge ofLodi, with the battle-smoke still on his face, was moving his legs evenfaster than in the Russian retreat; and Wesley was using his heels in away that showed _they_ didn't belong to the Methodist church. But thecentral figures of the group were Cato and Victoria. The lady had a facelike a thunder-cloud, and a form that, if whitewashed, would haveoutsold the "Greek Slave. " She was built on springs, and "floated in thedance" like a feather in a high wind. Cato's mouth was like analligator's, but when it opened, it issued notes that would draw thespecie even in this time of general suspension. As we approached he wassinging a song, but he paused on perceiving us, when the Colonel, tossing a handful of coin among them, called out, "Go on, boys; let thegentleman have some music; and you, Vic, show your heels like a beauty. "

A general scramble followed, in which "Vic's" sense of decorum forbadeher to join, and she consequently got nothing. Seeing that, I tossed hera silver piece, which she caught. Grinning her thanks, she shouted, "Now, clar de track, you nigs; start de music. I'se gwine to gib degemman de breakdown. "

And she did; and such a breakdown! "We w'ite folks, " though it was nonew thing to the Colonel or Tommy, almost burst with laughter. 

In a few minutes nearly every negro on the plantation, attracted by thepresence of the Colonel and myself, gathered around the performers; anda shrill voice at my elbow called out, "Look har, ye lazy, good-for-nuffin' niggers, carn't ye fotch a cheer for Massa Davy and destrange gemman?"

"Is that you, Aunty?" said the Colonel. "How d'ye do?"

"Sort o' smart, Massa Davy; sort o' smart; how is ye?"

"Pretty well, Aunty; pretty well. Have a seat. " And the Colonel helpedher to one of the chairs that were brought for us, with as muchtenderness as he would have shown to an aged white lady. 

The "exercises, " which had been suspended for a moment, recommenced, andthe old negress entered into them as heartily as the youngest present. Asong from Cato followed the dance, and then about twenty "gentleman andlady" darkies joined, two at a time, in a half "walk-round" halfbreakdown, which the Colonel told me was the original of the well-knowndance and song of Lucy Long. Other performances succeeded, and the wholeformed a scene impossible to describe. Such uproarious jollity, suchfull and perfect enjoyment, I had never seen in humanity, black orwhite. The little nigs, only four or five years old, would rush into thering and shuffle away at the breakdowns till I feared their short legswould come off; while all the darkies joined in the songs, till thebranches of the old pines above shook as if they too had caught thespirit of the music. In the midst of it, the Colonel said to me, in anexultant tone:

"Well, my friend, what do you think of slavery _now_?"

"About the same that I thought yesterday. I see nothing to change myviews. "

"Why, are not these people happy? Is not this perfect enjoyment?"

"Yes; just the same enjoyment that aunty's pigs are having; don't youhear _them_ singing to the music? I'll wager they are the happier of thetwo. "

"No; you are wrong. The higher faculties of the darkies are beingbrought out here. "

"I don't know that, " I replied. "Within the sound of their voices, twoof their fellows--victims to the inhumanity of slavery--are lying dead, and yet they make _Sunday_ "hideous" with wild jollity, while Sam's fatemay be theirs to-morrow. "

Spite of his genuine courtesy and high breeding, a shade of displeasurepassed over the Colonel's face as I made this remark. Rising to go, hesaid, a little impatiently, "Ah, I see how it is; that d---- Garrison'ssentiments have impregnated even you. How can the North and the Southhold together when moderate men like you and me are so far apart?"

"But you, " I rejoined, good-humoredly, "are not a moderate man. You andGarrison are of the same stripe, both extremists. _You_ have mounted onehobby, _he_ another; that is all the difference. "

"I should be sorry, " he replied, recovering his good nature, "to thinkmyself like Garrison. I consider him the ---- scoundrel unhung. "

"No; I think he means well. But you are both fanatics, both 'bricks' ofthe same material; we conservatives, like mortar, will hold you togetherand yet keep you apart. "

"I, for one, _won't_ be held. If I can't get out of this cursed Union inany other way, I'll emigrate to Cuba. "

I laughed, and just then, looking up, caught a glimpse of Jim, whostood, hat in hand, waiting to speak to the Colonel, but not daring tointerrupt a white conversation. 

"Hallo, Jim, " I said; "have you got back?"

"Yas, sar, " replied Jim, grinning all over as if he had some agreeablething to communicate. 

"Where is Moye?" asked the Colonel. 

"Kotched, massa; I'se got de padlocks on him. "

"Kotched, " echoed half a dozen darkies, who stood near enough to hear;"Ole Moye is kotched, " ran through the crowd, till the music ceased, anda shout went up from two hundred black throats that made the old treestremble. 

"Now gib him de lashes, Massa Davy, " cried the old nurse. "Gib him whathe gabe pore Sam; but mine dat you keeps widin de law. "

"Never fear, Aunty, " said the Colonel; "I'll give him ----. "

How the Colonel kept his word will be told in another chapter. 

[Footnote E: Instances are frequent where Southern gentlemen form theseleft-handed connections, and rear two sets of differently coloredchildren; but it is not often that the two families occupy the samedomicil. The only other case within my _personal_ knowledge was that ofthe well-known President of the Bank of St. M----, at Columbus, Ga. Thatgentleman, whose note ranked in Wall Street, when the writer wasacquainted with that locality, as "A No. 1, " lived for fifteen yearswith two "wives" under one roof. One, an accomplished white woman, andthe mother of several children--did the honors of his table, and movedwith him in "the best society;" the other--a beautiful quadroon, alsothe mother of several children--filled the humbler office of nurse toher own and the other's offspring. ]

[Footnote F: Among the things of which slavery has deprived the black is a_name_. A slave has no family designation. It may be for that reasonthat a high-sounding appellation is usually selected for the single onehe is allowed to appropriate. ]

CHAPTER VII. 

PLANTATION DISCIPLINE. 

The "Ole Cabin" to which Jim had alluded as the scene of Sam'spunishment by the overseer, was a one-story shanty in the vicinity ofthe stables. Though fast falling to decay, it had more the appearance ofa human habitation than the other huts on the plantation. Its thickplank door was ornamented with a mouldy brass knocker, and its fourwindows contained sashes, to which here and there clung a broken pane, the surviving relic of its better days. It was built of large unhewnlogs, notched at the ends and laid one upon the other, with the barkstill on. The thick, rough coat which yet adhered in patches to thetimber had opened in the sun, and let the rain and the worm burrow inits sides, till some parts had crumbled entirely away. At one corner theprocess of decay had gone on till roof, superstructure, and foundationhad rotted down and left an opening large enough to admit a coach andfour horses. The huge chimneys which had graced the gable ends of thebuilding were fallen in, leaving only a mass of sticks and clay to tellof their existence, and two wide openings to show how great a figurethey had once made in the world. A small space in front of the cabinwould have been a lawn, had the grass been willing to grow upon it; anda few acres of cleared land in its rear might have passed for a garden, had it not been entirely overgrown with young pines and stubble. Thisprimitive structure was once the "mansion" of that broad plantation, and, before the production of turpentine came into fashion in thatregion, its rude owner drew his support from its few surrounding acres, more truly independent than the present aristocratic proprietor, who, raising only one article, and buying all his provisions, was forced todraw his support from the Yankee or the Englishman. 

Only one room, about forty feet square, occupied the interior of thecabin. It once contained several apartments, vestiges of which stillremained, but the partitions had been torn away to fit it for itspresent uses. What those uses were, a moment's observation showed me. 

In the middle of the floor, a space about fifteen feet square wascovered with thick pine planking, strongly nailed to the beams. In thecentre of this planking, an oaken block was firmly bolted, and to it wasfastened a strong iron staple that held a log-chain, to which wasattached a pair of shackles. Above this, was a queer frame-work of oak, somewhat resembling the contrivance for drying fruit I have seen inYankee farmhouses. Attached to the rafters by stout pieces of timber, were two hickory poles, placed horizontally, and about four feet apart, the lower one rather more than eight feet from the floor. This was thewhipping-rack, and hanging to it were several stout whips with shorthickory handles, and long triple lashes. I took one down for closerinspection, and found burned into the wood, in large letters, the words"Moral Suasion. " I questioned the appropriateness of the label, but theColonel insisted with great gravity, that the whip is the only "moralsuasion" a darky is capable of understanding. 

When punishment is inflicted on one of the Colonel's negroes, his feetare confined in the shackles, his arms tied above his head, and drawn bya stout cord up to one of the horizontal poles; then, his back bared tothe waist, and standing on tip-toe, with every muscle stretched to itsutmost tension, he takes "de lashes. "

A more severe but more unusual punishment is the "thumb-screw. " In thisa noose is passed around the negro's thumb and fore-finger, while thecord is thrown over the upper cross-pole, and the culprit is drawn uptill his toes barely touch the ground. In this position the whole weightof the body rests on the thumb and fore-finger. The torture isexcruciating, and strong, able-bodied men can endure it but a fewmoments. The Colonel naively told me that he had discontinued itspractice, as several of his _women_ had nearly lost the use of theirhands, and been incapacitated for field labor, by its too frequentrepetition. "My ---- drivers, "[G] he added, "have no discretion, and nohumanity; if they have a pique against a nigger, they show him nomercy. "

The old shanty I have described was now the place of the overseer'sconfinement. Open as it was at top, bottom, and sides, it seemed anunsafe prison-house; but Jim had secured its present occupant by placing"de padlocks on him. "

"Where did you catch him?" asked the Colonel, as, followed by everydarky on the plantation, we took our way to the old building. 

"In de swamp, massa. We got Sandy and de dogs arter him--dey treed him, but he fit like de debble. "

"Any one hurt?"

"Yas, Cunnel; he knifed Yaller Jake, and ef I hadn't a gibin him awiper, you'd a had anudder nigger short dis mornin'--shore. "

"How was it? tell me, " said his master, while we paused, and the darkiesgathered around. 

"Wal, yer see, massa, we got de ole debble's hat dat he drapped wen youhad him down; den we went to Sandy's fur de dogs--dey scented him toonst, and off dey put for de swamp. 'Bout twenty on us follored 'em. He'd a right smart start on us, and run like a deer, but de houndskotched up wid him 'bout whar he shot pore Sam. He fit 'em and cut up deLady awful, but ole Cæsar got a hole ob him, and sliced a breakfuss outob his legs. Somehow, dough, he got 'way from de ole dog, and clum atree. 'Twar more'n an hour afore we kotched up; but dar he war, and dehouns baying 'way as ef dey know'd what an ole debble he am. I'd tuk oneob de guns--you warn't in de house, massa, so I cudn't ax you. "

"Never mind that; go on, " said the Colonel. 

"Wal, I up wid de gun, and tole him ef he didn't cum down I'd gib himsuffin' dat 'ud sot hard on de stummuk. It tuk him a long w'ile, but--he_cum down_. " Here the darky showed a row of ivory that would have been afair capital for a metropolitan dentist. 

"When he war down, " he resumed, "Jake war gwine to tie him, but de ole'gator, quicker dan a flash, put a knife enter him. "

"Is Jake much hurt?" interrupted the Colonel. 

"Not bad, massa; de knife went fru his arm, and enter his ribs, but dema'am hab fix him, and she say he'll be 'round bery sudden. "

"Well, what then?" inquired the Colonel. 

"Wen de ole debble seed he hadn't finished Jake, he war gwine to gib himanudder dig, but jus den I drap de gun on his cocoanut, and he nebertrubble us no more. 'Twar mons'rous hard work to git him out ob deswamp, 'cause he war jess like a dead man, and had to be toted de hullway; but he'm dar now, massa (pointing to the old cabin), and debracelets am on him. "

"Where is Jake?" asked the Colonel. 

"Dunno, massa, but reckon he'm to hum. "

"One of you boys go and bring him to the cabin, " said the Colonel. 

A negro man went off on the errand, while we and the darkies resumed ourway to the overseer's quarters. Arrived there, I witnessed a scene thatwords cannot picture. 

Stretched at full length on the floor, his clothes torn to shreds, hiscoarse carroty hair matted with blood, and his thin, ugly visage pale asdeath, lay the overseer. Bending over him, wiping away the blood fromhis face, and swathing a ghastly wound on his forehead, was the negressSue; while at his shackled feet, binding up his still bleeding legs, knelt the octoroon woman!

"Is _she_ here?" I said, involuntarily, as I caught sight of the group. 

"It's her nature, " said the Colonel, with a pleasant smile; "if Moyewere the devil himself, she'd do him good if she could; another suchwoman never lived. "

And yet this woman, with all the instincts that make her sexangel-ministers to man, lived in daily violation of the most sacred ofall laws--because she was a slave. Can Mr. Caleb Cushing or CharlesO'Conor tell us why the Almighty invented a system which forces hiscreatures to break laws of His own making?

"Don't waste your time on him, Alice, " said the Colonel, kindly; "heisn't worth the rope that'll hang him. "

"He was bleeding to death; unless he has care he'll die, " said theoctoroon woman. 

"Then let him die, d---- him, " replied the Colonel, advancing to wherethe overseer lay, and bending down to satisfy himself of his condition. 

Meanwhile more than two hundred dusky forms crowded around and filledevery opening of the old building. Every conceivable emotion, exceptpity, was depicted on their dark faces. The same individuals whosecloudy visages a half hour before I had seen distended with a wild mirthand careless jollity, that made me think them really the docile, good-natured animals they are said to be, now glared on the prostrateoverseer with the infuriated rage of aroused beasts when springing ontheir prey. 

"You can't come the possum here. Get up, you ---- hound, " said theColonel, rising and striking the bleeding man with his foot. 

The fellow raised himself on one elbow and gazed around with a stupid, vacant look. His eye wandered unsteadily for a moment from the Colonelto the throng of cloudy faces in the doorway; then, his recentexperience flashing upon him, he shrieked out, clinging wildly to theskirts of the octoroon woman, who was standing near, "Keep off themcursed hounds--keep them off, I say--they'll kill me! they'll kill me!"

One glance satisfied me that his mind was wandering. The blow on thehead had shattered his reason, and made the strong man less than achild. 

"You wont be killed yet, " said the Colonel. "You've a small account tosettle with me before you reckon with the devil. "

At this moment the dark crowd in the doorway parted, and Jake entered, his arm bound up and in a sling. 

"Jake, come here, " said the Colonel; "this man would have killed you. What shall we do with him?"

"'Taint for a darky to say dat, massa, " said the negro, evidentlyunaccustomed to the rude administration of justice which the Colonelwas about to inaugurate; "he did wuss dan dat to Sam, massa--he orterswing for shootin' him. "

"That's _my_ affair; we'll settle your account first, " replied theColonel. 

The darky looked undecidedly at his master, and then at the overseer, who, overcome by weakness, had sunk again to the floor. The littlehumanity in him was evidently struggling with his hatred of Moye and hisdesire for revenge, when the old nurse yelled out from among the crowd, "Gib him fifty lashes, Massa Davy, and den you wash him down. [H] Be aman, Jake, and say dat. "

Jake still hesitated, and when at last he was about to speak, the eye ofthe octoroon caught his, and chained the words to his tongue, as if bymagnetic power. 

"Do you say that, boys;" said the Colonel, turning to the other negroes;"shall he have fifty lashes?"

"Yas, massa, fifty lashes--gib de ole debble fifty lashes, " shoutedabout fifty voices. 

"He shall have them, " quietly said the master. 

The mad shout that followed, which was more like the yell of demons thanthe cry of men, seemed to arouse Moye to a sense of his real position. Springing to his feet, he gazed wildly around; then, sinking on hisknees before the octoroon, and clutching the folds of her dress, heshrieked, "Save me, good lady, save me! as you hope for mercy, save me!"

Not a muscle of her face moved, but, turning to the excited crowd, shemildly said, "Fifty lashes would kill him. _Jake_ does not saythat--your master leaves it to him, and _he_ will not whip a dyingman--will you, Jake?"

"No, ma'am--not--not ef you gwo agin it, " replied the negro, with veryevident reluctance. 

"But he whipped Sam, ma'am, when Sam war nearer dead than _he_ am, " saidJim, whose station as house-servant allowed him a certain freedom ofspeech. 

"Because he was brutal to Sam, should you be brutal to him? Can youexpect me to tend you when you are sick, if you beat a dying man? DoesPompey say you should do such things?"

"No, good ma'am, " said the old preacher, stepping out, with the freedomof an old servant, from the black mass, and taking his stand beside mein the open space left for the "w'ite folks;" "de ole man dusn't saydat, ma'am; he tell 'em dat de Lord want 'em to forgib dar en'mies--tolub dem dat pursyskute 'em;" and, turning to the Colonel, he added, ashe passed his hand meekly over his thin crop of white wool and threw hislong heel back, "ef massa'll 'low me I'll talk to 'em. "

"Fire away, " said the Colonel, with evident chagrin. "This is a niggertrial; if you want to screen the d---- hound you can do it. "

"I dusn't want to screed him, massa, but I'se bery ole and got soon togwo, and I dusn't want de blessed Lord to ax me wen I gets dar why I'lowed dese pore ig'nant brack folks to mudder a man 'fore my beryface. I toted you, massa, 'fore you cud gwo, I'se worked for you till Ican't work no more; and I dusn't want to tell de Lord dat _my_ massa leta brudder man be killed in cole blood. "

"He is no brother of mine, you old fool; preach to the nigs, don'tpreach to me, " said the Colonel, stifling his displeasure, and stridingoff through the black crowd, without saying another word. 

Here and there in the dark mass a face showed signs of relenting; butmuch the larger number of that strange jury, had the question been put, would have voted--DEATH. 

The old preacher turned to them as the Colonel passed out, and said, "Mychil'ren, would you hab dis man whipped, so weak, so dyin' as he am, efhe war brack?"

"No, not ef he war a darky--fer den he wouldn't be such an ole debble, "replied Jim, and about a dozen of the other negroes. 

"De w'ite aint no wuss dan de brack--we'm all 'like--pore sinners all onus. De Lord wudn't whip a w'ite man no sooner dan a brack one--He tinksde w'ite juss so good as de brack (good Southern doctrine, I thought). De porest w'ite trash wudn't strike a man wen he war down. "

"We'se had 'nough of dis, ole man, " said a large, powerful negro (one ofthe drivers), stepping forward, and, regardless of the presence of MadamP---- and myself, pressing close to where the overseer lay, now totallyunconscious of what was passing around him. "You needn't preach no more;de Cunnel hab say we'm to whip ole Moye, and we'se gwine to do it, by ----. "

I felt my fingers closing on the palm of my hand, and in a second morethey might have cut the darky's profile, had not Madam P---- cried out, "Stand back, you impudent fellow: say another word, and I'll have youwhipped on the spot. "

"De Cunnel am my massa, ma'am--_he_ say ole Moye am to be whipped, andI'se gwine to do it--shore. "

I have seen a storm at sea--I have seen the tempest tear up greattrees--I have seen the lightning strike in a dark night--but I never sawany thing half so grand, half so terrible, as the glance and tone ofthat woman as she cried out, "Jim, take this man--give him fifty lashesthis instant. "

Quicker than thought, a dozen darkies were on him. His hands and feetwere tied and he was under the whipping-rack in a second. Turning thento the other negroes, the brave woman said, "Some of you carry Moye tothe house, and you, Jim, see to this man--if fifty lashes don't make himsorry, give him fifty more. "

This summary change of programme was silently acquiesced in by theassembled negroes, but many a cloudy face scowled sulkily on theoctoroon, as, leaning on my arm, she followed Junius and the othernegroes, who bore Moye to the mansion. It was plain that under thosedark faces a fire was burning that a breath would have fanned into aflame. 

We entered the house by its rear door, and placed Moye in a small roomon the ground floor. He was laid on a bed, and stimulants being givenhim, his senses and reason shortly returned. His eyes opened, and hisreal position seemed suddenly to flash upon him, for he turned to MadamP----, and in a weak voice, half choked with emotion, faltered out: "MayGod in heaven bless ye, ma'am; God _will_ bless ye for bein' so good toa wicked man like me. I doesn't desarve it, but ye woant leave me--yewoant leave me--they'll kill me ef ye do!"

"Don't fear, " said the Madam; "you shall have a fair trial. No harmshall come to you here. "

"Thank ye, thank ye, " gasped the overseer, raising himself on one arm, and clutching at the lady's hand, which he tried to lift to his lips. 

"Don't say any more now, " said Madam P----, quietly; "you must rest andbe quiet, or you wont get well. "

"Shan't I get well? Oh, I can't die--I can't die _now_!"

The lady made a soothing reply, and giving him an opiate, and arrangingthe bedding so that he might rest more easily, she left the room withme. 

As we stepped into the hall, I saw through the front door, which wasopen, the horses harnessed in readiness for "meeting, " and the Colonelpacing to and fro on the piazza, smoking a cigar. He perceived us, andhalted in the doorway. 

"So you've brought that d---- bloodthirsty villain into my house!" hesaid to Madam P---- in a tone of strong displeasure. 

"How could I help it? The negroes are mad, and would kill him anywhereelse, " replied the lady, with a certain self-confidence that showed sheknew her power over the Colonel. 

"Why should _you_ interfere between them and him? Has he not insultedyou enough to make you let him alone? Can you so easily forgive histaunting you with"--He did not finish the sentence, but what I hadlearned on the previous evening from the old nurse gave me a clue to itsmeaning. A red flame flushed the face and neck of the octoroonwoman--her eyes literally flashed fire, and her very breath seemed tocome with pain; in a moment, however, this emotion passed away, and shequietly said, "Let me settle that in my own way. He has served _you_well--_you_ have nothing against him that the law will not punish. "

"By ----, you are the most unaccountable woman I ever knew, " exclaimedthe Colonel, striding up and down the piazza, the angry feeling passingfrom his face, and giving way to a mingled expression of wonder andadmiration. The conversation was here interrupted by Jim, who just thenmade his appearance, hat in hand. 

"Well, Jim, what is it?" asked his master. 

"We'se gib'n Sam twenty lashes, ma'am, but he beg so hard, and say he sosorry, dat I tole him I'd ax you 'fore we gabe him any more. "

"Well, if he's sorry, that's enough; but tell him he'll get fiftyanother time, " said the lady. 

"What Sam is it?" asked the Colonel. 

"Big Sam, the driver, " said Jim. 

"Why was he whipped?"

"He told me _you_ were his master, and insisted on whipping Moye, "replied the lady. 

"Did he dare to do that? Give him a hundred, Jim, not one less, " roaredthe Colonel. 

"Yas, massa, " said Jim, turning to go. 

The lady looked significantly at the negro and shook her head, but saidnothing, and he left. 

"Come, Alice, it is nearly time for meeting, and I want to stop and seeSandy on the way. "

"I reckon I wont go, " said Madam P----. 

"You stay to take care of Moye, I suppose, " said the Colonel, with aslight sneer. 

"Yes, " replied the lady, "he is badly hurt, and in danger ofinflammation. "

"Well, suit yourself. Mr. K----, come, _we'll_ go--you'll meet some ofthe _natives_. "

The lady retired to the house, and the Colonel and I were soon ready. The driver brought the horses to the door, and as we were about to enterthe carriage, I noticed Jim taking his accustomed seat on the box. 

"Who's looking after Sam?" asked the Colonel. 

"Nobody, Cunnel; de ma'am leff him gwo. "

"How dare you disobey me? Didn't I tell you to give him a hundred?"

"Yas, massa, but de ma'am tole me notter. "

"Well, another time you mind what _I_ say--do you hear?" said hismaster. 

"Yas, massa, " said the negro, with a broad grin, "I allers do dat. "

"You _never_ do it, you d---- nigger; I ought to have flogged you longago. "

Jim said nothing, but gave a quiet laugh, showing no sort of fear, andwe entered the carriage. I afterward learned from him that he had neverbeen whipped, and that all the negroes on the plantation obeyed the ladywhen, which was seldom, her orders came in conflict with their master's. They knew if they did not, the Colonel would whip them. 

As we rode slowly along the Colonel said to me, "Well, you see that thebest people have to flog niggers sometimes. "

"Yes, _I_ should have given that fellow a hundred lashes, at least. Ithink the effect on the others would have been bad if Madam P---- hadnot had him flogged. "

"But she generally goes against it. I don't remember of her having itdone in ten years before. And yet, though I've the worst gang of niggersin the district, they obey her like so many children. "

"Why is that?"

"Well, there's a kind of magnetism about her that makes everybody loveher; and then she tends them in sickness, and is constantly doing littlethings for their comfort; _that_ attaches them to her. She is anextraordinary woman. "

"Whose negroes are those, Colonel?" I asked, as, after a while, wepassed a gang of about a dozen, at work near the roadside. Some weretending a tar-kiln, and some engaged in cutting into fire-wood the pineswhich a recent tornado had thrown to the ground. 

"They are mine, but they are working now for themselves. I let such aswill, work on Sunday. I furnish the "raw material, " and pay them forwhat they do, as I would a white man. "

"Wouldn't it be better to make them go to hear the old preacher;couldn't they learn something from him?"

"Not much; Old Pomp never read any thing but the Bible, and he doesn'tunderstand that; besides, they can't be taught. You can't make 'awhistle out of a pig's tail;' you can't make a nigger into a white man. "

Just here the carriage stopped suddenly, and we looked out to see thecause. The road by which we had come was a mere opening through thepines; no fences separated it from the wooded land, and being seldomtravelled, the track was scarcely visible. In many places it widened toa hundred feet, but in others tall trees had grown up on its oppositesides, leaving scarcely width enough for a single carriage to passalong. In one of these narrow passages, just before us, a queer-lookingvehicle had upset, and scattered its contents in the road. We had noalternative but to wait till it got out of the way; and we all alightedto reconnoitre. 

The vehicle was a little larger than an ordinary handcart, and wasmounted on wheels that had probably served their time on a Boston draybefore commencing their travels in Secessiondom. Its box of pineboarding and its shafts of rough oak poles were evidently of Southernhome manufacture. Attached to it by a rope harness, with a primitivebridle of decidedly original construction, was--not a horse, nor a mule, nor even an alligator, but a "three-year-old heifer. "

The wooden linch-pin of the cart had given way, and the weight of ahalf-dozen barrels of turpentine had thrown the box off its balance, androlled the contents about in all directions. 

The appearance of the proprietor of this nondescript vehicle was inkeeping with his establishment. His coat, which was much too short inthe waist and much too long in the skirts, was of the common reddishgray linsey, and his nether garments, which stopped just below theknees, were of the same material. From there downwards, he wore only thecovering that is said to have been the fashion in Paradise before Adamtook to fig-leaves. His hat had a rim broader than a political platform, and his skin a color half way between tobacco-juice and a tallowcandle. 

"Wal, Cunnul, how dy'ge?" said the stranger, as we stepped from thecarriage. 

"Very well, Ned; how are you?"

"Purty wal, Cunnul; had the nagur lately, right smart, but'm gittin''roun'. "

"You're in a bad fix here, I see. Can Jim help you?"

"Wal, p'raps he moight. Jim, how dy'ge?"

"Sort o' smart, ole feller. But come, stir yerseff; we want ter gwo'long, " replied Jim, with a lack of courtesy that showed he regarded thewhite man as altogether too "trashy" to be treated with much ceremony. 

With the aid of Jim, a new linch-pin was soon whittled out, theturpentine rolled on to the cart, and the vehicle put in a movingcondition. 

"Where are you hauling your turpentine?" asked the Colonel. 

"To Sam Bell's, at the 'Boro'. "

"What will he pay you?"

"Wal, I've four barr'ls of 'dip, ' and tu of 'hard. ' For the hull, Ireckon he'll give three dollar a barr'l. "

"By tale?"

"No, for tu hun'red and eighty pound. "

"Well, _I'll_ give you two dollars and a half, by weight. "

"Can't take it, Cunnel; must get three dollar. "

"What, will you go sixty miles with this team, and waste five or sixdays, for fifty cents on six barrels--three dollars!"

"Can't 'ford the time, Cunnel, but must git three dollar a barr'l. "

"That fellow is a specimen of our 'natives, '" said the Colonel, as weresumed our seats in the carriage. "You'll see more of them before weget back to the plantation. "

"He puts a young cow to a decidedly original use, " I remarked. 

"Oh no, not original here; the ox and the cow with us are both used forlabor. "

"You don't mean to say that cows are generally worked here?"

"Of course I do. Our breeds are good for nothing as milkers, and we putthem to the next best use. I never have cow's milk on my plantation. "

"You don't! I could have sworn it was in my coffee this morning. "

"I wouldn't trust you to buy brandy for me, if your organs of taste arenot keener than that. It was goat's milk. "

"Then how do you get your butter?"

"From the North. I've had mine from my New York factors for over tenyears. "

We soon arrived at Sandy, the negro-hunter's, and halted to allow theColonel to inquire as to the health of his family of children anddogs--the latter the less numerous, but, if I might judge byappearances, the more valued of the two. 

[Footnote G: The negro-whippers and field overseers. ]

[Footnote H: Referring to the common practice of bathing the raw andbleeding backs of the punished slaves with a strong solution of saltand water. ]

CHAPTER VIII. 

THE NEGRO HUNTER. 

Alighting from the carriage, I entered, with my host, the cabin of thenegro-hunter. So far as external appearance went, the shanty was aslight improvement on the "Mills House, " described in a previouschapter; but internally, it was hard to say whether it resembled more apig-sty or a dog-kennel. The floor was of the bare earth, covered inpatches with loose plank of various descriptions, and littered over withbillets of "lightwood, " unwashed cooking utensils, two or three cheapstools, a pine settee--made from the rough log and hewn smooth on theupper side--a full-grown bloodhound, two younger canines, and ninehalf-clad juveniles of the flax-head species. Over against thefire-place three low beds afforded sleeping accommodation to nearly adozen human beings (of assorted sizes, and dove-tailed together withheads and feet alternating), and in the opposite corner a lower couch, whose finer furnishings told plainly it was the peculiar property of the"wee ones" of the family--a mother's tenderness for her youngest thuscropping out even in the midst of filth and degradation--furnishedquarters for an unwashed, uncombed, unclothed, saffron-hued littlefellow about fifteen months old, and--the dog "Lady. " She was of a darkhazel color--a cross between a pointer and a bloodhound--and one of themost beautiful creatures I ever saw. Her neck and breast were boundabout with a coarse cotton cloth, saturated with blood, and emitting astrong odor of bad whiskey; and her whole appearance showed thedesperate nature of the encounter with the overseer. 

The nine young democrats who were lolling about the room in variousattitudes, rose as we entered, and with a familiar but ratherdeferential "How-dy'ge, " to the Colonel, huddled around and stared at mewith open mouths and distended eyes, as if I were some strange being, dropped from another sphere. The two eldest were of the male gender, aswas shown by their clothes--cast-off suits of the inevitablereddish-gray, much too large, and out at the elbows and the knees--butthe sex of the others I was at a loss to determine, for they wore only asingle robe, reaching, like their mother's, from the neck to the knees. Not one of the occupants of the cabin boasted a pair of stockings, butthe father and mother did enjoy the luxury of shoes--coarse, stoutbrogans, untanned, and of the color of the legs which they encased. 

"Well, Sandy, how is 'Lady?'" asked the Colonel, as he stepped to thebed of the wounded dog. 

"Reckon she's a goner, Cunnel; the d---- Yankee orter swing fur it. "

This intimation that the overseer was a countryman of mine, took me bysurprise, nothing I had observed in his speech or manners havingindicated it, but I consoled myself with the reflection that Connecticuthad reared him--as she makes wooden hams and nutmegs--expressly for theSouthern market. 

"He _shall_ swing for it, by ----. But are you sure the slut will die?"

"Not shore, Cunnel, but she can't stand, and the blood _will_ run. Ireckon a hun'red and fifty ar done for thar, sartin. "

"D---- the money--I'll make that right. Go to the house and get someointment from Madam--she can save her--go at once, " said my host. 

"I will, Cunnel, " replied the dirt-eater, taking his broad-brim from awooden peg, and leisurely leaving the cabin. Making our way then overthe piles of rubbish and crowds of children that cumbered the apartment, the Colonel and I returned to the carriage. 

"Dogs must be rare in this region, " I remarked, as we resumed our seats. 

"Yes, well-trained bloodhounds are scarce everywhere. That dog is wellworth a hundred and fifty dollars. "

"The business of nigger-catching, then, is brisk, just now?"

"No, not more brisk than usual. We always have more or less runaways. "

"Do most of them take to the swamps?"

"Yes, nine out of ten do, though now and then one gets off on a tradingvessel. It is almost impossible for a strange nigger to make his way byland from here to the free states. "

"Then why do you Carolinians make such an outcry about the violation ofthe Fugitive Slave Law?"

"For the same reason that dogs quarrel over a naked bone. We should beunhappy if we couldn't growl at the Yankees, " replied the Colonel, laughing. 

"_We_, you say; you mean by that, the hundred and eighty thousand nabobswho own five-sixths of your slaves?"[I]

"Yes, I mean them, and the three millions of poor whites--the ignorant, half-starved, lazy vermin you have just seen. _They_ are the real basisof our Southern oligarchy, as you call it, " continued my host, stilllaughing. 

"I thought the negroes were the serfs in your feudal system?"

"Both the negroes and the poor whites are the serfs, but the white trashare its real support. Their votes give the small minority ofslave-owners all their power. You say we control the Union. We do, andwe do it by the votes of these people, who are as far below our niggersas the niggers are below decent white men. Who that reflects that thiscountry has been governed for fifty years by such scum, would give ad---- for republican institutions?"

"It does speak badly for _your_ institutions. A system that reducesnearly half of a white population to the level of slaves cannot stand inthis country. The late election shows that the power of your 'whitetrash' is broken. "

"Well, it does, that's a fact. If the states should remain together, theWest would in future control the Union. We see that, and are thereforedetermined on dissolution. It is our only way to keep our niggers. "

"The West will have to consent to that project. My opinion is, yourpresent policy will, if carried out, free every one of your slaves. "

"I don't see how. Even if we are put down--which we cannot be--and areheld in the Union against our will, government cannot, by theconstitution, interfere with slavery in the states. "

"I admit that, but it can confiscate the property of traitors. Everylarge slave-holder is to-day, at heart, a traitor. If this movement goeson, you will commit overt acts against the government, and inself-defence it will punish treason by taking from you the means offuture mischief. "

"The Republicans and Abolitionists might do that if they had the power, but nearly one-half of the North is on our side, and will not fight us. "

"Perhaps so; but if _I_ had this thing to manage, I would put you downwithout fighting. "

"How would you do it--by preaching abolition where even the niggerswould mob you? There's not a slave in all South Carolina but would shootGarrison or Greeley on sight. "

"That may be, but if so, it is because you keep them in ignorance. Builda free-school at every cross-road, and teach the poor whites, and whatwould become of slavery? If these people were on a par with the farmersof New England, would it last for an hour? Would they not see that itstands in the way of their advancement, and vote it out of existence asa nuisance?"

"Yes, perhaps they would; but the school-houses are not at thecross-roads, and, thank God, they will not be there in this generation. "

"The greater the pity; but that which will not flourish alongside of aschool-house, cannot, in the nature of things, outlast this century. Itstime must soon come. "

"Enough for the day is the evil thereof. I'll risk the future ofslavery, if the South, in a body, goes out of the Union. "

"In other words, you'll shut out schools and knowledge, in order to keepslavery in existence. The Abolitionists claim it to be a relic ofbarbarism, and you admit it could not exist with general education amongthe people. "

"Of course it could not. If Sandy, for instance, knew he were as good aman as I am--and he would be if he were educated--do you suppose hewould vote as I tell him, go and come at my bidding, and live on mycharity? No, sir! give a man knowledge, and, however poor he may be, he'll act for himself. "

"Then free-schools and general education would destroy slavery?"

"Of course they would. The few cannot rule when the many know theirrights. If the poor whites realized that slavery kept them poor, wouldthey not vote it down? But the South and the world are a long way offfrom general education. When it comes to that, we shall need no laws, and no slavery, for the millennium will have arrived. "

"I'm glad you think slavery will not exist during the millennium, " Ireplied, good-humoredly; "but how is it that you insist the negro isnaturally inferior to the white, and still admit that the 'white trash, 'are far below the black slaves?"

"Education makes the difference. We educate the negro enough to make himuseful to us; but the poor white man knows nothing. He can neither readnor write, and not only that, he is not trained to any usefulemployment. Sandy, here, who is a fair specimen of the tribe, obtainshis living just like an Indian, by hunting, fishing, and stealing, interspersed with nigger-catching. His whole wealth consists of twohounds and pups; his house--even the wooden trough his miserablechildren eat from--belongs to me. If he didn't catch a runaway-niggeronce in a while, he wouldn't see a dime from one year to another. "

"Then you have to support this man and his family?"

"Yes, what I don't give him he steals. Half a dozen others poach on mein the same way. "

"Why don't you set them at work?"

"They can't be made to work. I have hired them time and again, hoping tomake something of them, but I never got one to work more than half a dayat a time. It's their nature to lounge and to steal. "

"Then why do you keep them about you?"

"Well, to be candid, their presence is of use in keeping the blacks insubordination, and they are worth all they cost me, because I controltheir votes. "

"I thought the blacks were said to be entirely contented?"

"No, not contented. I do not claim that. I only say that they are unfitfor freedom. I might cite a hundred instances in which it has been theirruin. "

"I have not heard of one. It seems strange to me that a man who cansupport another cannot support himself. "

"Oh! no, it's not at all strange. The slave has hands, and when themaster gives him brains, he works well enough; but to support himself heneeds both hands and brains, and he has only hands. I'll give you a casein point: At Wilmington, N. C. , some years ago, there lived a negro bythe name of Jack Campbell. He was a slave, and was employed, before theriver was deepened so as to admit of the passage of large vessels up tothe town, in lightering cargoes to the wharves. He hired his time of hismaster, and carried on business on his own account. Every one knew him, and his character for honesty, sobriety, and punctuality stood so highthat his word was considered among merchants as good as that of thefirst business-men of the place. Well, Jack's wife and children werefree, and he finally took it into his head to be free himself. Hearranged with his master to purchase himself within a specified time, ateight hundred dollars, and he was to deposit his earnings in the handsof a certain merchant till they reached the required sum. He went on, and in three years had accumulated nearly seven hundred dollars, whenhis owner failed in business. As the slave has no right of property, Jack's earnings belonged by law to his master, and they were attached bythe Northern creditors (mark that, _by Northern creditors_), and takento pay the master's debts. Jack, too, was sold. His new owner alsoconsented to his buying himself, at about the price previously agreedon. Nothing discouraged, he went to work again. Night and day he toiled, and it surprised every one to see so much energy and firmness ofpurpose in a negro. At last, after four more years of labor, heaccomplished his purpose, and received his free-papers. He had workedseven years--as long as Jacob toiled for Rachel--for his freedom, andlike the old patriarch he found himself cheated at last. I was presentwhen he received his papers from his owner--a Mr. William H. Lippitt, who still resides at Wilmington--and I shall never forget the ecstasy ofjoy which he showed on the occasion. He sung and danced, and laughed, and wept, till my conscience smote me for holding my own niggers, whenfreedom might give them so much happiness. Well, he went off that dayand treated some friends, and for three days afterward lay in thegutter, the entreaties of his wife and children having no effect on him. He swore he was free, and would do as he 'd---- pleased. ' He hadpreviously been a class-leader in the church, but after getting hisfreedom he forsook his previous associates, and spent his Sundays andevenings in a bar-room. He neglected his business; people lostconfidence in him, and step by step he went down, till in five years hesunk into a wretched grave. That was the effect of freedom on _him_, andit would be the same on all of his race. "

"It is clear, " I replied, "_he_ could not bear freedom, but that doesnot prove he might not have 'endured' it if he had never been a slave. His overjoy at obtaining liberty, after so long a struggle for it, ledto his excesses and his ruin. According to your view, neither the blacknor the poor white is competent to take care of himself. The Almighty, therefore, has laid upon _you_ a triple burden; you not only have toprovide for yourself and your children, but for two races beneath you, the black and the clay-eater. The poor nigger has a hard time, but itseems to me you have a harder one. "

"Well, it's a fact, we do. I often think that if it wasn't for the colorand the odor, I'd willingly exchange places with my man Jim. "

The Colonel made this last remark in a half-serious, half-comic way, that excited my risibilities, but before I could reply, the carriagestopped, and Jim, opening the door, announced:

"We's har, massa, and de prayin' am gwine on. "

[Footnote I: The foregoing statistics are correct. That small number ofslave-holders sustains the system of slavery, and has caused thisterrible rebellion. They are, almost to a man, rebels and secessionists, and we may cover the South with armies, and keep a file of soldiers uponevery plantation, and not smother this insurrection, unless we breakdown the power of that class. Their wealth gives them their power, andtheir wealth is in their slaves. Free their negroes by an act ofemancipation, or confiscation, and the rebellion will crumble to piecesin a day. Omit to do it, and it will last till doomsday. 

The power of this dominant class once broken, with landed property atthe South more equally divided, a new order of things will arise there. Where now, with their large plantations, not one acre in ten is tilled, a system of small farms will spring into existence, and the wholecountry be covered with cultivation. The six hundred thousand men whohave gone there to fight our battles, will see the amazing fertility ofthe Southern soil--into which the seed is thrown and springs up withoutlabor into a bountiful harvest--and many of them, if slavery is crushedout, will remain there. Thus a new element will be introduced into theSouth, an element that will speedily make it a loyal, prosperous, and_intelligent_ section of the Union. 

I would interfere with no one's rights, but a rebel in arms against hiscountry has no rights; all that he has "is confiscate. " Will the loyalpeople of the North submit to be ground to the earth with taxes to paythe expenditures of a war, brought upon them by these Southernoligarchists, while the traitors are left in undisturbed possession ofevery thing, and even their slaves are exempted from taxation? It werewell that our legislators should ask this question now, and not waittill it's asked of them by THE PEOPLE. ]

CHAPTER IX. 

THE COUNTRY CHURCH. 

Had we not been absorbed in conversation, we might have discovered, sometime previous to our arrival at the church door, that the services hadcommenced, for the preacher was shouting at the top of his lungs. Heevidently thought the Lord either a long way off, or very hard ofhearing. Not wishing to disturb the congregation while at theirdevotions, we loitered near the doorway until the prayer was over, andin the mean time I glanced around the vicinity. 

The "meeting-house, " of large unhewn logs, was a story and a half inheight, and about large enough to seat comfortably a congregation of twohundred persons. It was covered with shingles, with a roof projectingsome four feet over the walls, and was surmounted at the front gable bya tower, about twelve feet square. This also was built of logs, andcontained a bell "to call the erring to the house of prayer, " though, unfortunately, all of that character thereabouts dwelt beyond the soundof its voice. The building was located at a cross-roads, about equallydistant from two little hamlets (the nearer nine miles off), neither ofwhich was populous enough to singly support a church and a preacher. Thetrees in the vicinity had been thinned out, so that carriages coulddrive into the woods, and find under the branches shelter from the rainand the sun; and at the time of my visit, about twenty vehicles of allsorts and descriptions, from the Colonel's magnificent barouche to therude cart drawn by a single two-horned quadruped, filled the openings. There was a rustic simplicity about the whole scene that charmed me. Thelow, rude church, the grand old pines that towered in leafy magnificencearound it, and the soft, low wind, that sung a morning hymn in thegreen, wavy woods, seemed to lift the soul up to Him who inhabitetheternity, but who deigns to visit the erring children of men. 

The preacher was about to "line out" one of Watts' psalms when weentered the church, but he stopped short on perceiving us, and, bowinglow, waited till we had taken our seats. This action, and thesycophantic air which accompanied it, disgusted me, and turning to theColonel, I asked, jocosely:

"Do the chivalry exact so much obsequiousness from the country clergy?Do you require to be bowed up to heaven?"

In a low voice, but high enough, I thought, for the preacher to hear, for we sat very near, the Colonel replied:

"He's a renegade Yankee--the meanest thing on earth. "

I said no more, but entered into the services as seriously as thestrange gymnastic performances of the preacher would allow of my doing;for he was quite as amusing as a circus clown. 

With the exception of the Colonel's, and a few other pews in thevicinity of the pulpit, all of the seats were mere rough benches, without backs, and placed so closely together as to interfereuncomfortably with the knees of the sitters. The house was full, and thecongregation as attentive as any I ever saw. All classes were there; theblack serving-man away off by the doorway, the poor white a littlehigher up, the small turpentine-farmer a little higher still, and thewealthy planter, of the class to which the Colonel belonged, on "thehighest seats of the synagogue, " and in close proximity to the preacher. 

The "man of prayer" was a tall, lean, raw-boned, angular-builtindividual, with a thin, sharp, hatchet-face, a small sunken eye, andlong, loose hair, brushed back and falling over the collar of a seedyblack coat. He looked like a dilapidated scare-crow, and his pale, sallow face, and cracked, wheezy voice, were in odd and comic keepingwith his discourse. His text was: "Speak unto the children of Israel, that they go forward. " And addressing the motley gathering of poorwhites and small planters before him as the "chosen people of God, " heurged them to press on in the mad course their state had taken. It was apolitical harangue, a genuine stump-speech, but its frequent allusionsto the auditory as the legitimate children of the old patriarch, and therightful heirs of all the promises, struck me as out of place in arural district of South Carolina, however appropriate it might have beenin one of the large towns, before an audience of merchants and traders, who are, almost to a man, Jews. 

The services over, the congregation slowly left the church. Gathered ingroups in front of the "meeting-house, " they were engaged in a generaldiscussion of the affairs of the day, when the Colonel and I emergedfrom the doorway. The better class greeted my host with considerablecordiality, but I noticed that the well-to-do small planters, whocomposed the greater part of the assemblage, received him with decidedcoolness. These people were the "North County folks, " on whom theoverseer had invoked a hanging. Except that their clothing was moreuncouth and ill-fashioned, and their faces generally less "cute" ofexpression, they did not materially differ in appearance from the rusticcitizens who may be seen on any pleasant Sunday gathered around thedoorways of the rural meeting-houses of New England. 

One of them, who was leaning against a tree, quietly lighting a pipe, was a fair type of the whole, and as he took a part in the scene whichfollowed, I will describe him. He was tall and spare, with a swinging, awkward gait, and a wiry, athletic frame. His hair, which he wore almostas long as a woman's, was coarse and black, and his face stronglymarked, and of the precise color of two small rivulets of tobacco-juicethat escaped from the corners of his mouth. He had an easy, self-possessed manner, and a careless, devil-may-care way about him, that showed he had measured his powers, and was accustomed to "rough it"with the world. He wore a broadcloth coat of the fashion of some yearsago, but his waistcoat and nether garments of the common, reddishhomespun, were loose and ill-shaped, as if their owner did not wastethought on such trifles. His hat, as shockingly bad as Horace Greeley's, had the inevitable broad brim, and fell over his face like acalash-awning over a shop-window. As I approached him he extended hishand with a pleasant "How are ye, stranger?"

"Very well, " I replied, returning his grasp with equal warmth, "how areyou?"

"Right smart, right smart, thank ye. You're----" the rest of thesentence was cut short by a gleeful exclamation from Jim, who, mountedon the box of the carriage, which was drawn up on the cleared plot infront of the meeting-house, waved an open newspaper over his head, andcalled out, as he caught sight of the Colonel:

"Great news, massa--great news from Charls'on!"

(The darky, while we were in church, had gone to the post-office, somefour miles away, and got the Colonel's mail, which consisted of lettersfrom his New York and Charleston factors, the Charleston _Courier_ and_Mercury_ and the New York _Journal of Commerce_. The latter sheet, atthe date of which I am writing, was in wide circulation at the South, its piety (!) and its politics being then calculated with mathematicalprecision for secession latitudes. )

"What is it, Jim?" shouted his master. "Give it to us. "

The darky had somehow learned to read, but holding the paper at arm'slength, and throwing himself into a theatrical attitude, he cried out, with any amount of gesticulation:

"De news am, massa, and gemmen and ladies, dat de ole fort foreCharls'on hab ben devacuated by Major Andersin and de sogers, and deyhab stole 'way in de dark night and gone to Sumter, whar dey can't betook; and dat de ole Gubner hab got out a procdemation dat all dat don'tlub de Aberlishen Yankees shill cum up dar and clar 'em out; and depaper say dat lots ob sogers hab cum from Georgi and Al'bama, and 'waydown Souf, to help 'em. Dis am w'at de _Currer_ say, " he continued, holding the paper up to his eyes and reading: "Major Andersin, ob deUnited States army hab 'chieved de 'stinction ob op'ning cibil war'tween American citizens; he hab desarted Moulfrie, and by falsefretexts hab took dat ole Garrison and all his millinery stores to FortSumter. "

"Get down, you d----d nigger, " said the Colonel, laughing, and mountingthe carriage-box beside him. "You can't read. Old Garrison isn'tthere--he's the d----d Northern Abolitionist. "

"I knows dat, Cunnel, but see dar, " replied Jim, holding the paper outto his master, "don't dat say he'm dar? It'm him dat make all detrubble. P'raps dis nig can't read, but ef dat aint readin' I'd like toknow it!"

"Clear out, " said the Colonel, now actually roaring with laughter; "it'sthe garrison of soldiers that the _Courier_ speaks of, not theAbolitionist. "

"Read it yoursef, den, massa, I don't seed it dat way. "

Jim was altogether wiser than he appeared, but while equally as wellpleased with the news as his master, he was so for an entirely differentreason. In the crisis which these tidings announced, he saw hope for hisrace. 

The Colonel then read the paper to the assemblage. The news was receivedwith a variety of manifestations by the auditory, the larger portion, Ithought, hearing it, as I did, with sincere regret. 

"Now is the time to stand by the state, my friends, " said my host, as hefinished the reading. "I hope every man here is ready to do his duty byold South Carolina. "

"Yes, _sar_! if she does _har_ duty by the Union. We'll go to the deathfor har just so long as she's in the right, but not a d----d step ifshe arn't, " said the long-legged native I have introduced to the reader. 

"And what have _you_ to say about South Carolina? What does she owe to_you_?" asked the Colonel, turning on the speaker with a proud and angrylook. 

"More, a darned sight, than she'll pay, if ye cursed 'ristocrats run herto h---- as ye'r doin'. She owes me, and 'bout ten as likely niggers asye ever seed, a living, and we've d----d hard work to get it out onher _now_, let alone what's comin'. "

"Don't talk to me, you ill-mannered cur, " said my host, turning his backon his neighbor, and directing his attention to the remainder of theassemblage. 

"Look har, Cunnel, " replied the native, "if ye'll jest come down fromthar, and throw 'way yer shootin'-irons, I'll give ye the all-firedestthrashing ye ever did get. "

The Colonel gave no further heed to him, but the speaker mounted thesteps of the meeting-house and harangued the natives in a strain of rudeand passionate declamation, in which my host, the aristocrats, and thesecessionists came in for about equal shares of abuse. Seeing that thenative (who, it appeared, was quite popular as a stump-speaker) wasdrawing away his audience, the Colonel descended from the driver's seat, and motioning for me to follow, entered the carriage. Turning the horseshomeward, we rode off at a brisk pace. 

"Not much secession about that fellow, Colonel, " I remarked, after awhile. 

"No, " he replied, "he's a North Carolina 'corn-cracker, ' one of theugliest specimens of humanity extant. They're as thick as fleas in thispart of the state, and about all of them are traitors. "

"Traitors to the state, but true to the Union. As far as I've seen, thatis the case with the middling class throughout the South. " "Well, itmay be, but they generally go with us, and I reckon they will now, whenit comes to the rub. Those in the towns--the traders andmechanics--will, certain; its only these half-way independent plantersthat ever kick the traces. By the way, " continued my host, in a jocoseway, "what did you think of the preaching?"

"I thought it very poor. I'd rather have heard the stump-speech, had itnot been a little too personal on you. "

"Well, it was the better of the two, " he replied, laughing, "but the olddevil can't afford any thing good, he don't get enough pay. "

"Why, how much does he get?"

"Only a hundred dollars. "

"That _is_ small. How does the man live?"

"Well, he teaches the daughter of my neighbor, Captain Randall, whobelieves in praying, and gives him his board. Randall thinks thatenough. The rest of the parish can't afford to pay him, and I _wont_. "

"Why wont you?"

"Because he's a d----d old hypocrite. He believes in the Union with allhis heart--at least so Randall, who's a sincere Union man, says--andyet, he never sees me at meeting but he preaches a red-hot secessionsermon. "

"He wants to keep you in the faith, " I replied. 

A few more miles of sandy road took us to the mansion, where we founddinner in waiting. Meeting "Massa Tommy"--who had staid at home withhis mother--as we entered the doorway, the Colonel asked after theoverseer. 

"He seems well enough, sir; I believe he's coming the possum overmother. "

"I'll bet on it, Tommy; but he wont fool you and me, will he, my boy?"said his father, slapping him affectionately on the back. 

After dinner I went, with my host to the room of the wounded man. Hishead was still bound up, and he was groaning piteously, as if in greatpain; but I thought there was too fresh a color in his face to beentirely natural in one who had lost so much blood, and been so severelywounded as he affected to have been. 

The Colonel mentioned our suspicions to Madam P----, and suggested thatthe shackles should be put on him. 

"Oh! no, don't do that; it would be inhuman, " said the lady; "the coloris the effect of fever. If you fear he is plotting to get away, let himbe watched. "

The Colonel consented, but with evident reluctance, to the arrangement, and retired to his room to take a _siesta_, while I lit a segar, andstrolled out to the negro quarters. 

Making my way through the woods to the scene of the morning'sjollification, I found about a hundred darkies gathered around Jim, onthe little plot in front of old Lucy's cabin. He had evidently beengiving them the news. Pausing when I came near, he exclaimed:

"Har's Massa K----, he'll say dat I tells you de trufh;" and turning tome, he said: "Massa K----, dese darkies say dat Massa Andersin am anab'lisherner, and dat none but de ab'lisherners will fight for de Union;am dat so, sar?"

"No, I reckon not, Jim; I think the whole North would fight for it if itwere necessary. "

"Am dat so, massa? am dat so?" eagerly inquired a dozen of the darkies;"and am dar great many folks at de Norf--more dan dar am down har?"

"Yas, you fools, didn't I tell you dat?" said Jim, as I, not exactlyrelishing the idea of preaching treason, in the Colonel's absence, tohis slaves, hesitated to reply. "Haint I tole you, " he continued, "datin de big city ob New York dar'm more folks dan in all Car'lina? I'sebeen dar, and I knows; and Massa K----'ll tell you dat dey--most on'em--feel mighty sorry for de brack man. "

"No he wont, " I replied, "and besides, Jim, you should not talk in thisway before me; I might tell your master. "

"No! you wont do dat; I knows you wont, massa. Scipio tole us he'd trusthis bery life wid _you_. "

"Well, perhaps he might; it's true I would not injure you;" saying that, I turned away, though my curiosity was greatly excited to hear more. 

I wandered farther into the woods, and a half-hour found me near one ofthe turpentine distilleries. Seating myself on a rosin barrel, I quietlyfinished my segar, and was about lighting another, when Jim made hisappearance. 

"Beg pardon, Massa K----, " said the negro, bowing very low, "but I wantsto ax you one or two tings, ef you please, sar. "

"Well, " I replied, "I'll tell you any thing that I ought to. "

"Der yer tink, den, massa, dat dey'll git to fightin' at Charl'son?"

"Yes, judging by the tone of the Charleston papers you've read to-day, Ithink they will. "

"And der yer tink dat de rest ob de Souf will jine wid Souf Car'lina, ifshe go at it fust?"

"Yes, Jim, I'm inclined to think so. "

"I hard you say to massa, dat ef dey goes to war, 'twill free all deniggers--der you raily b'lieve dat, sar?"

"_You_ heard me say that; how did you hear it?" I exclaimed, insurprise. 

"Why, sar, de front winder ob de carriage war down jess a crack, so Ihard all you said. "

"Did you let it down on purpose?"

"P'r'aps so, massa. Whot's de use ob habin' ears, ef you don't har?"

"Well, I suppose not much; and you tell all you hear to the othernegroes?"

"I reckon so, massa, " said the darky, looking very demure. 

"That's the use of having a tongue, eh?" I replied, laughing. 

"Dat's it 'zactly, massa. "

"Well, Jim, I do think the slaves will be finally freed; but it willcost more white blood to do it than all the niggers in creation areworth. Do you think the darkies would fight for their freedom?"

"Fight, sar!" exclaimed the negro, straightening up his fine form, whilehis usual good-natured look passed from his face, and gave way to anexpression that made him seem more like an incarnate devil than a humanbeing; "FIGHT, sar; gib dem de chance, and den see. "

"Why are you discontented? You have been at the North, and you know theblacks are as well off as the majority of the poor laboring men there. "

"You says dat to _me_, Massa K----; you don't say it to de _Cunnel_. Weam _not_ so well off as de pore man at de Norf! You knows dat, sar. Hehab his wife and chil'ren, and his own home. What hab we, sar? No wife, no chil'ren, no home; all am de white man's. Der yer tink we wouldn'tfight to be free?" and he pressed his teeth together, and there passedagain over his face the same look it wore the moment before. 

"Come, come, Jim, this may be true of your race; but it don't apply toyourself. Your master is kind and indulgent to _you_. "

"He am kine to me, sar; he orter be, " said the negro, the savageexpression coming again into his eyes. For a moment he hesitated; then, taking a step toward me, he placed his face down to mine, and hissed outthese words, every syllable seeming to come from the very bottom of hisbeing. "I tell you he orter be, sar, FUR I AM HIS OWN FATHER'S SON!"

"His brother!" I exclaimed, springing to my feet, and looking at him inblank amazement. "It can't be true!"

"It am true, sar--as true as there's a hell! His father had mymother--when he got tired of her, he sold her Souf. _I war too young deneben to know her!_"

"This is horrible--too horrible!" I said. 

"It am slavery, sar! Shouldn't we be contented?" replied the negro witha grim smile. Drawing, then, a large spring-knife from his pocket, hewaved it above his head, and added: "Ef I had de hull white racedar--right dar under dat knife, don't yer tink I'd take all darlives--all at one blow--to be FREE!"

"And yet you refused to run away when the Abolitionists tempted you, atthe North. Why didn't you go then?"

"'Cause I had promised, massa. "

"Promised the Colonel before you went?"

"No, sar; he neber axed me; but _I_ can't tell you no more. P'rapsScipio will, ef you ax him. "

"Oh! I see; you're in that league of which Scip is a leader. You'll getinto trouble, _sure_, " I replied, in a quick, decided tone, whichstartled him. 

"You tole Scipio dat, sar, and what did _he_ tell you?"

"That he didn't care for his life. "

"No more do I, sar, " said the negro, turning on his heel with a proud, almost defiant gesture, and starting to go. 

"A moment, Jim. You are very imprudent; never say these things to anyother mortal; promise me that. "

"You'se bery good, massa, bery good. Scipio say you's true, and he'mallers right. I ortent to hab said what I hab; but sumhow, sar, dat newsbrought it all up _har_" (laying his hand on his breast), "and it wudcome out. "

The tears filled his eyes as he said this, and turning away withoutanother word, he disappeared among the trees. 

I was almost stunned by this strange revelation, but the more Ireflected on it, the more probable it appeared. Now too, that mythoughts were turned in that direction, I called to mind a certainresemblance between the colonel and the negro that I had not heededbefore. Though one was a high-bred Southern gentleman, claiming an oldand proud descent, and the other a poor African slave, they had somestriking peculiarities which might indicate a common origin. Thelikeness was not in their features, for Jim's face was of theunmistakable negro type, and his skin of a hue so dark that it seemedimpossible he could be the son of a white man (I afterward learned thathis mother was a black of the deepest dye), but it was in their form andgeneral bearing. They had the same closely-knit and sinewy frame, thesame erect, elastic step, the same rare blending of good-natured easeand dignity--to which I have already alluded as characteristic of theColonel--and in the wild burst of passion that accompanied the negro'sdisclosure of their relationship, I saw the same fierce, unbridledtemper, whose outbreaks I had witnessed in my host. 

What a strange fate was theirs! Two brothers--the one the owner of threehundred slaves, and the first man of his district--the other, a bondedmenial, and so poor that the very bread he ate, and the clothes he wore, were another's!

I passed the remainder of the afternoon in my room, and did not againmeet my host until the family assembled at the tea-table. Jim thenoccupied his accustomed seat behind the Colonel's chair, and thatgentleman was in more than his usual spirits, though Madam P----, Ithought, wore a sad and absent look. 

The conversation rambled over a wide range of subjects, and was carriedon mainly by the Colonel and myself; but toward the close of the mealthe lady said to me:

"Mr. K----, Sam and young Junius are to be buried this evening; if youhave never seen a negro funeral, perhaps you'd like to attend. "

"I will be happy to accompany you, Madam, if you go, " I replied, "Thank you, " said the lady. 

"Pshaw! Alice, you'll not go into the woods on so cold a night as this!"said the Colonel. 

"Yes, I think I ought to. Our people will expect me. "

CHAPTER X. 

THE NEGRO FUNERAL. 

It was about an hour after nightfall when we took our way to theburial-ground. The moon had risen, but the clouds which gathered whenthe sun went down, covered its face, and were fast spreading theirthick, black shadows over the little collection of negro-houses. Neartwo new-made graves were gathered some two hundred men and women, asdark as the night that was setting around them. As we entered the circlethe old preacher pointed to seats reserved for us, and the sable crowdfell back a few paces, as if, even in the presence of death, they didnot forget the difference between their race and ours. 

Scattered here and there among the trees, torches of lightwood threw awild and fitful light over the little cluster of graves, revealing thelong, straight boxes of rough pine that held the remains of the twonegroes, and lighting up the score or two of russet mounds where sleptthe dusky kinsmen who had gone before them. 

The simple head-boards that marked these humble graves chronicledno bad biography or senseless rhyme, and told no false tales oflives that might better not have been, but "SAM, AGE 22;" "JAKE'SELIZA;" "AUNT SUE;" "AUNT LUCY'S TOM;" "JOE;" and other likeinscriptions, scratched in rough characters on the unplaned boards, wereall the records there. The rude tenants had passed away and "left nosign;" their birth, their age, their deeds, were alike unknown--unknown, but not forgotten! for are they not written in the book of Hisremembrance--and when he counteth up his jewels, may not some of them bethere?

The queer, grotesque dress, and sad, earnest looks of the black group;the red, fitful glare of the blazing pine, and the white faces of thetapped trees, gleaming through the gloom like so many sheeted ghostsgathered to some death-carnival, made up a strange, wild scene--thestrangest and the wildest I had ever witnessed. 

The covers of the rude coffins were not yet nailed down, and when wearrived, the blacks were, one by one, taking a last look at the faces ofthe dead. Soon, Junius, holding his weeping wife by the hand, approachedthe smaller of the two boxes, which held all that was left of theirfirst-born. The mother, kneeling by its side, kissed again and again thecold, shrunken lips, and sobbed as if her heart would break; and thestrong frame of the father shook convulsively, as he choked down thegreat sorrow which welled up in his throat, and turned away from his boyforever. As he did so, old Pompey said:

"Don't grebe, June, he'm whar de wicked cease from trubling, whar deweary am at rest. "

"I knows it; I knows it, Uncle. I knows de Lord am bery good to take'im 'way; but why did he take de young chile, and leab de ole man har?"

"De little sapling dat grow in de shade may die while it'm young; degreat tree dat grow in de sun must lib till he'm rotted down. "

These words were the one drop wanting to make the great grief which wasswelling in the negro's heart overflow. Giving one low, wild cry, hefolded his wife in his arms, and burst into a paroxysm of tears. 

"Come now, my chil'ren, " said the old preacher, kneeling down, "let uspray. "

The whole assemblage then knelt on the cold ground, while the old manprayed, and a more sincere, heart-touching prayer never went up fromhuman lips to that God "who hath made of one blood all nations thatdwell on the face of the earth. " Though clothed in rags, and in feebleage at the mercy of a cruel taskmaster, that old slave was richer farthan his master. His simple faith, which saw through the darkness aroundhim into the clear and radiant light of the unseen day, was of far moreworth than all the wealth and glory of this world. I know not why itwas, but as I looked at him in the dim red light, which fell on his bentform and cast a strange halo around his upturned face, I thought ofStephen, as he gazed upward and behold heaven open, and "the Son of Manseated at the right hand of the throne of God. "

Rising from his knees, the old preacher turned slowly to the black massthat encircled him, and said:

"My dear brederin and sisters, de Lord say dat 'de dust shill return tode earth as it war, and de spirit to Him who gabe it, ' and now, 'cordin'to dat text, my friends, we'm gwine to put dis dust (pointing to the twocoffins) in de groun' whar it cum from, and whar it shill lay till debressed Lord blow de great trumpet on de resumrection mornin'. Despirits of our brudders har de Lord hub already took to hisseff. 'Ourbrudders, ' I say, my chil'ren, 'case ebery one dat de Lord hab made ambrudders to you and to me, whedder dey'm bad or good, white or brack. 

"Dis young chile, who hab gone 'way and leff his pore fader and muddersuffrin' all ober wid grief, _he_ hab gone to de Lord, _shore_. _He_neber done no wrong; he allers 'bey'd his massa, and neber said no hardword, nor found no fault, not eben w'en de cruel, bad oberseer put deload so heaby on him dat it kill him. Yes, my brederin and sisters, _he_hab gone to de Lord; gone whar dey don't work in de swamps; whar delittle chil'ren don't tote de big shingles fru de water up to dar knees. No swamps am dar; no shingles am dar; dey doan't need 'em, 'case dar dehous'n haint builded wid hands, for dey'm all builded by de Lord, andgib'n to de good niggers, ready-made, and for nuffin'. De Lord don'tsay, like as ded massa say, 'Pomp, dar's de logs and de shingles' (dey'mallers pore shingles, de kine dat woant sell; but massa say, 'dey'm good'nuff for niggers, ' ef de roof do leak). De Lord doan't say: 'Now, Pomp, you go to work and build you' own house; but mine dat you does you, task all de time, jess de same!' But de Lord--de bressed Lord--He say, w'en we goes up dar, 'Dar, Pomp, dar's de house dat I'se been a buildin'for you eber sence 'de foundation ob de worle. ' It'm done now, and youkin cum in; your room am jess ready, and ole Sal and de chil'ren dat Ituk 'way from you eber so long ago, and dat you mourned ober and criedober as ef you'd neber see dem agin, dey'm dar too, all on 'em, awaitin' for you. Dey'm been fixin' up de house 'spressly for you alldese long years, and dey'b got it all nice and comfible now. ' Yas, myfriends, glory be to Him, dat's what our Heabenly massa say, and who obyou wouldn't hab sich a massa as dat? A massa dat doan't set you no hardtasks, and dat gibs you 'nuff to eat, and time to rest and to sing andto play! A massa dat doan't keep no Yankee oberseer to foller you 'boutwid de big free-lashed whip; but dat leads you hisseff to de greenpastures and de still waters; and w'en you'm a-faint and a-tired, andcan't go no furder, dat takes you up in his arms, and carries you in hisbosom! What pore darky am dar dat wudn't hab sich a massa? What one obus, eben ef he had to work jess so hard as we works now, wudn't tinkheseff de happiest nigger in de hull worle, ef he could hab sich hous'nto lib in as dem? dem hous'n 'not made wid hands, eternal in deheabens!'

"But glory, glory to de Lord! my chil'ren, wese all got dat massa, ef weonly knowd it, and He'm buildin' dem hous'n up dar, now, for ebery oneob us dat am tryin' to be good and to lub one anoder. _For ebery one obus_, I say, and we kin all git de fine hous'n ef we try. 

"Recolember, too, my brudders, dat our great Massa am rich, bery rich, and he kin do all he promise. _He_ doant say, w'en wese worked ober timeto git some little ting to comfort de sick chile, 'I knows, Pomp, you'sedone de work, an' I did 'gree to gib you de pay; but de fact am, Pomp, de frost hab come so sudden dis yar, dat I'se loss de hull ob de sebenfhdippin', and I'se pore, so pore, de chile muss go widout dis time. ' No, no, brudders, de bressed Lord He neber talk so. He neber break, 'case desebenfh dip am shet off, or 'case de price of turpentime gwo down at deNorf. He neber sell his niggers down Souf, 'case he lose his money on hehoss-race. No, my chil'ren, our HEABENLY Massa am rich, RICH, I say. Heown all dis worle, and all de oder worles dat am shinin' up dar in desky. He own dem all; but he tink more ob one ob you, more ob one obyou--pore, ign'rant brack folks dat you am--dan ob all dem great worles!Who wouldn't belong to sich a Massa as dat? Who wouldn't be hisnigger--not his slave--He doant hab no slaves--but his chile; and 'efhis chile, den his heir, de heir ob God, and de jined heir wid debressed Jesus. ' O my chil'ren! tink of dat! de heir ob de Lord ob all de'arth and all de sky! What white man kin be more'n dat?

"Don't none ob you say you'm too wicked to be His chile; 'ca'se youhaint. He lubs de wicked ones de best, 'ca'se dey need his lub de most. Yas, my brudders, eben de wickedest, ef dey's only sorry, and turn roun'and leab off dar bad ways, he lub de bery best ob all, 'ca'se he'm alllub and pity. 

"Sam, har, my chil'ren, war wicked, but don't _we_ pity him; don't _we_tink he hab a hard time, and don't we tink de bad oberseer, who'm layin'dar in de house jess ready to gwo and answer for it--don't we tink hegabe Sam bery great probincation?

"Dat's so, " said a dozen of the auditors. 

"Den don't you 'spose dat de bressed Lord know all dat, and dat He pitySam too. If we pore sinners feel sorrer for him, haint de Lord's heartbigger'n our'n, and haint he more sorrer for him? Don't you tink dat efHe lub and pity de bery worse whites, dat He lub and pity pore Sam, whowarn't so bery bad, arter all? Don't you tink He'll gib Sam a house?P'r'aps' 'twont be one ob de fine hous'n, but wont it be a comfiblehouse, dat hain't no cracks, and one dat'll keep out de wind and derain? And don't you s'pose, my chil'ren, dat it'll be big 'nuff forJule, too--dat pore, repentin' chile, whose heart am clean broke, 'ca'seshe hab broughten dis on Sam--and won't de Lord--de good Lord--detender-hearted Lord--won't He touch Sam's heart, and coax him to forgibJule, and to take her inter his house up dar? I knows he will, mychil'ren. I knows----"

The old negro paused abruptly; there was a quick swaying in the blackcrowd--a hasty rush--a wild cry--and Sam's wife burst into the openspace around the preacher, and fell at his feet. Throwing her armswildly about him, she shrieked out:

"Say dat agin, Uncle Pomp! for de lub ob de good Lord, oh! say datagin!"

Bending down, the old man raised her gently in his arms, and folding herthere, as he would have folded a child, he said, in a voice thick withemotion:

"It am so, Juley. I knows dat Sam will forgib you, and take you wid himup dar. "

Fastening her arms frantically around Pompey's neck, the poor womanburst into a paroxysm of grief, while the old man's tears fell in greatdrops on her upturned face, and many a dark cheek was wet, as with rain. 

The scene had lasted a few minutes, and I was turning away to hide theemotion that fast filled my eyes, and was creeping up, with a chokingfeeling, to my throat, when the Colonel, from the farther edge of thegroup, called out:

"Take that d---- d---- away--take her away, Pomp!"

The old negro turned toward his master with a sad, grieved look, butgave no heed to the words. 

"Take her away, some of you, I say, " again cried the Colonel. "Pomp, youmustn't keep these niggers all night in the cold. "

At the sound of her master's voice the metif woman fell to the ground asif struck by a Minie-ball. Soon several negroes lifted her up to bearher off; but she struggled violently, and rent the woods with her wildcries for "one more look at Sam. "

"Look at him, you d---- d----; then go, and don't let me see you again. "

She threw herself on the face of the dead, and covered the cold lipswith her kisses; then she rose, and with a weak, uncertain step, staggered out into the darkness. 

Was not the system which had so seared and hardened that man's heart, begotten in the lowest hell?

The old preacher said no more, but four stout negro men stepped forward, nailed down the lids, and lowered the rough boxes into the ground. Turning to Madam P----, I saw her face was red with weeping. She turnedto go as the first earth fell, with a dull, heavy sound, on the rudecoffins; and giving her my arm, I led her from the scene. 

As we walked slowly back to the house, a low wail--half a chant, half adirge--rose from the black crowd, and floated off on the still nightair, till it died away amid the far woods, in a strange, unearthly moan. With that sad, wild music in our ears, we entered the mansion. 

As we seated ourselves by the bright wood-fire on the library hearth, obeying a sudden impulse which I could not restrain, I said to MadamP----:

"The Colonel's treatment of that poor woman is inexplicable to me. Whyis he so hard with her? It is not in keeping with what I have seen ofhis character. "

"The Colonel is a peculiar man, " replied the lady. "Noble, generous, anda true friend, he is also a bitter, implacable enemy. When he onceconceives a dislike, his feelings become even vindictive. Never havinghad an ungratified wish, he does not know how to feel for the sorrows ofthose beneath him. Sam, though a proud, headstrong, unruly character, was a great favorite with him; he felt his death much; and as heattributes it to Jule, he feels terribly bitter toward her. She willhave to be sold to get her out of his way, for he will _never_ forgiveher. "

It was some time before the Colonel joined us, and when at last he madehis appearance, he seemed in no mood for conversation. The lady soonretired; but feeling unlike sleep, I took down a book from the shelves, drew my chair near the fire, and fell to reading. The Colonel, too, wasdeep in the newspapers, till, after a while, Jim entered the room:

"I'se cum to ax ef you've nuffin more to-night, Cunnel?" said the negro. 

"No, nothing, Jim, " replied his master; "but, stay--hadn't you bettersleep in front of Moye's door?"

"Dunno, sar; jess as you say. "

"I think you'd better, " returned the Colonel. 

"Yas, massa, " and the darky left the apartment. 

The Colonel shortly rose, and bade me "good-night. " I continued readingtill the clock struck eleven, when I laid the book aside and went to myroom. 

I lodged, as I have said before, on the first floor, and was obliged topass by the overseer's apartment in going to mine. Wrapped in hisblanket, and stretched at full length on the ground, Jim lay there, fastasleep. I passed on, thinking of the wisdom of placing a tired negro onguard over an acute and desperate Yankee. 

I rose in the morning with the sun, and had partly donned my clothing, when I heard a loud uproar in the hall. Opening my door, I saw Jimpounding vehemently at the Colonel's room, and looking as pale as ispossible with a person of his complexion. 

"What the d--l is the matter?" asked his master, who now, partlydressed, stepped into the hall. 

"Moye hab gone, sar--he'm gone and took Firefly (my host'sfive-thousand-dollar thorough-bred) wid him. "

For a moment the Colonel stood stupified; then, his face turning to acold, clayey white, he seized the black by the throat, and hurled him tothe floor. With his thick boot raised, he seemed about to dash out theman's brains with its ironed heel, when, on the instant, the octoroonwoman rushed, in her night-clothes, from his room, and, with desperateenergy, pushed him aside, exclaiming: "What would you do? Remember WHOHE IS!"

The negro rose, and the Colonel, without a word, passed into his ownapartment. 

CHAPTER XI. 

THE PURSUIT. 

I sauntered out, after the events recorded in the last chapter, toinhale the fresh air of the morning. A slight rain had fallen during thenight, and it still moistened the dead leaves which carpeted the woods, making an extended walk out of the question; so, seating myself on thetrunk of a fallen tree, in the vicinity of the house, I awaited the hourfor breakfast. I had not remained there long before I heard the voicesof my host and Madam P---- on the front piazza:

"I tell you, Alice, I cannot--must not do it. If I overlook this, thediscipline of the plantation is at an end. "

"Do what you please with him when you return, " replied the lady, "but donot chain him up, and leave me, at such a time, alone. You know Jim isthe only one I can depend on. "

"Well, have your own way. You know, my darling, I would not cause you amoment's uneasiness, but I must follow up this d----d Moye. "

I was seated where I could hear, though I could not see the speakers, but it was evident from the tone of the last remark, that an actionaccompanied it quite as tender as the words. Being unwilling tooverhear more of a private conversation, I rose and approached them. 

"Ah! my dear fellow, " said the Colonel, on perceiving me, "are youstirring so early? I was about to send to your room to ask if you'll gowith me up the country. My d----d overseer has got away, and I mustfollow him at once. "

"I'll go with pleasure, " I replied. "Which way do you think Moye hasgone?"

"The shortest cut to the railroad, probably; but old Cæsar will trackhim. "

A servant then announced breakfast--an early one having been prepared. We hurried through the meal with all speed, and the other preparationsbeing soon over, were in twenty minutes in our saddles, and ready forthe journey. The mulatto coachman, with a third horse, was at the door, ready to accompany us. As we mounted, the Colonel said to him:

"Go and call Sam, the driver. "

The darky soon returned with the heavy, ugly-visaged black who had beenwhipped, by Madam P----'s order, the day before. 

"Sam, " said his master, "I shall be gone some days, and I leave thefield-work in your hands. Let me have a good account of you when Ireturn. "

"Yas, massa, you shill dat, " replied the negro. 

"Put Jule--Sam's Jule--into the woods, and see that she does fulltasks, " continued the Colonel. 

"Haint she wanted 'mong de nusses, massa?"

"Put some one else there--give her field-work; she needs it. "

On large plantations the young children of the field-women are left withthem only at night, and are herded together during the day, in aseparate cabin, in charge of nurses. These nurses are feeble, sicklywomen, or recent mothers; and the fact of Jule's being employed in thatcapacity was evidence that she was unfit for outdoor labor. 

Madam P----, who was waiting on the piazza to see us off, seemed aboutto remonstrate against this arrangement, but she hesitated a moment, andin that moment we had bidden her "Good-bye, " and galloped away. 

We were soon at the cabin of the negro-hunter, and the coachman, dismounting, called him out. 

"Hurry up, hurry up, " said the Colonel, as Sandy appeared, "we haven't amoment to spare. "

"Jest so--jest so, Cunnel; I'll jine ye in a jiffin, " replied he of thereddish extremities. 

Emerging from the shanty with provoking deliberation--the impatience ofmy host had infected me--the clay-eater slowly proceeded to mount thehorse of the negro, while his dirt-bedraggled wife, and clay-encrustedchildren, followed close at his heels, the younger ones huddling aroundfor the tokens of paternal affection usual at parting. Whether it wasthe noise they made, or their frightful aspect, I know not, but thehorse, a spirited animal, took fright on their appearance, and nearlybroke away from the negro, who was holding him. Seeing this, the Colonelsaid:

"Clear out, you young scare-crows. Into the house with you. "

"They arn't no more scare-crows than yourn, Cunnel J----, " said themother, in a decidedly belligerent tone. "You may 'buse my old man--hekin stand it--but ye shan't blackguard my young 'uns!"

The Colonel laughed, and was about to make a good-natured reply, whenSandy yelled out:

"Gwo enter the house and shet up, ye---- ----. "

With this affectionate farewell, he turned his horse and led the way upthe road. 

The dog, who was a short distance in advance, soon gave a piercing howl, and started off at the speed of a reindeer. He had struck the trail, andurging our horses to their fastest speed, we followed. 

We were all well mounted, but the mare the Colonel had given me was amagnificent animal, as fleet as the wind, and with a gait so easy thather back seemed a rocking-chair. Saddle-horses at the South are trainedto the gallop--Southern riders not deeming it necessary that one'sbreakfast should be churned into a Dutch cheese by a trotting nag, inorder that he may pass for a horseman. 

We had ridden on at a perfect break-neck pace for half an hour, when theColonel shouted to our companion:

"Sandy, call the dog in; the horses wont last ten miles at thisgait--we've a long ride before us. "

The dirt-eater did as he was bidden, and we soon settled into a gentlegallop. 

We had passed through a dense forest of pines, but were emerging into a"bottom country, " where some of the finest deciduous trees--then brownand leafless, but bearing promise of the opening beauty ofspring--reared, along with the unfading evergreen, their tall stems inthe air. The live-oak, the sycamore, the Spanish mulberry, the holly, and the persimmon--gaily festooned with wreaths of the white and yellowjessamine, the woodbine and the cypress-moss, and bearing here and therea bouquet of the mistletoe, with its deep green and glossy leavesupturned to the sun--flung their broad arms over the road, forming anarchway grander and more beautiful than any the hand of man ever wovefor the greatest hero the world has worshipped. 

The woods were free from underbrush, and a coarse, wiry grass, unfit forfodder, and scattered through them in detached patches, was the onlyvegetation visible. The ground was mainly covered with the leaves andburrs of the pine. 

We passed great numbers of swine, feeding on these burrs, and now andthen a horned animal browsing on the cypress-moss where it hung low onthe trees. I observed that nearly all the swine were marked, though theyseemed too wild to have ever seen an owner, or a human habitation. Theywere a long, lean, slab-sided race, with legs and shoulders like deer, and bearing no sort of resemblance to the ordinary hog, except in thesnout, and that feature was so much longer and sharper than the nose ofthe Northern swine, that I doubt if Agassiz would class the two as onespecies. However, they have their uses--they make excellent bacon, andare "death on snakes. " Ireland itself is not more free from theserpentine race than are the districts frequented by these long-nosedquadrupeds. 

"We call them Carolina race-horses, " said the Colonel, as he finished anaccount of their peculiarities. 

"Race-horses! Why, are they fleet of foot?"

"Fleet as deer. I'd match one against an ordinary horse at any time. "

"Come, my friend, you're practising on my ignorance of natural history. "

"Not a bit of it. See! there's a good specimen yonder. If we can get himinto the road, and fairly started, I'll bet you a dollar he'll beatSandy's mare on a half-mile stretch--Sandy to hold the stakes and havethe winnings. "

"Well, agreed, " I said, laughing, "and I'll give the pig ten rods thestart. "

"No, " replied the Colonel, "you can't afford it. He'll _have_ to startahead, but you'll need that in the count. Come, Sandy, will you go infor the pile?"

I'm not sure that the native would not have run a race with Old Nicholashimself, for the sake of so much money. To him it was a vast sum; and ashe thought of it, his eyes struck small sparks, and his enormous beardand mustachio vibrated with something that faintly resembled a laugh. Replying to the question, he said:

"Kinder reckon I wull, Cunnel; howsomdever, I keeps the stakes, onyhow?"

"Of course, " said the planter, "but be honest--win if you can. "

Sandy halted his horse in the road, while the planter and I took to thewoods on either side of the way. The Colonel soon manoeuvred toseparate the selected animal from the rest of the herd, and, withoutmuch difficulty, got him into the road, where, by closing down on eachflank, we kept him till he and Sandy were fairly under way. 

"He'll keep to the road when once started, " said the Colonel, laughing:"and he'll show you some of the tallest running you ever saw in yourlife. "

Away they went. At first the pig, seeming not exactly to comprehend theprogramme, cantered off at a leisurely pace, though he held his own. Soon, however, he cast an eye behind him--halted a moment to collect histhoughts and reconnoitre--and then, lowering his head and elevating histail, put forth all his speed. And such speed! Talk of a deer, the wind, or a steam-engine--they are not to be compared with it. Nothing innature I ever saw run--except, it may be, a Southern tornado, or a SixthWard politician--could hope to distance that pig. He gained on the horseat every step, and it was soon evident that my dollar was gone!

"'In for a shilling, in for a pound, ' is the adage, so, turning to theColonel, I said, as intelligibly as my horse's rapid pace and my excitedrisibilities would allow:

"I see I've lost, but I'll go you another dollar that _you_ can't beatthe pig!"

"No--sir!" the Colonel got out in the breaks of his laughing explosions;"you can't hedge on me in that manner. I'll go a dollar that _you_ can'tdo it, and your mare is the fastest on the road. She won me a thousandnot a month ago. "

"Well, I'll do it--Sandy to have the stakes. "

"Agreed, " said the Colonel, and away _we_ went. 

The swinish racer was about a hundred yards ahead when I gave the marethe reins, and told her to go. And she _did_ go. She flew against thewind with a motion so rapid that my face, as it clove the air, felt asif cutting its way through a solid body, and the trees, as we passed, seemed struck with panic, and running for dear life in the oppositedirection. 

For a few moments I thought the mare was gaining, and I turned to theColonel with an exultant look. 

"Don't shout till you win, my boy, " he called out from the distancewhere I was fast leaving him and Sandy. 

I _did not shout_, for spite of all my efforts the space between me andthe pig seemed to widen. Yet I kept on, determined to win, till, at theend of a short half-mile, we reached the Waccamaw--the swine still ahundred yards ahead! There his pigship halted, turned coolly around, eyed me for a moment, then with a quiet, deliberate trot, turned offinto the woods. 

A bend in the road kept my companions out of sight for a few moments, and when they came up I had somewhat recovered my breath, though themare was blowing hard, and reeking with foam. 

"Well, " said the Colonel, "what do you think of our bacon 'as it runs?'"

"I think the Southern article can't be beat, whether raw or cooked, standing or running. "

At this moment the hound, who had been leisurely jogging along in therear, disdaining to join in the race in which his dog of a master and Ihad engaged, came up, and dashing quickly on to the river's edge, set upa most dismal howling. The Colonel dismounted, and clambering down thebank, which was there twenty feet high, and very steep, shouted:

"The d----d Yankee has swum the stream!"

"Why so?" I asked. 

"To cover his tracks and delay pursuit; but he has overshot the mark. There is no other road within ten miles, and he must have taken to thisone again beyond here. He's lost twenty minutes by this manoeuvre. Come, Sandy, call in the dog, we'll push on a little faster. "

"But he tuk to t'other bank, Cunnel. Shan't we trail him thar?" askedSandy. 

"And suppose he found a boat here, " I suggested, "and made the shoresome ways down?"

"He couldn't get Firefly into a flat--we should only waste time inscouring the other bank. The swamp this side the next run has forced himinto the road within five miles. The trick is transparent. He took mefor a fool, " replied the Colonel, answering both questions at once. 

I had reined my horse out of the road, and when my companions turned togo, was standing at the edge of the bank, overlooking the river. Suddenly I saw, on one of the abutments of the bridge, what seemed along, black log--strange to say, _in motion_!

"Colonel, " I shouted, "see there! a live log as I'm a white man!"

"Lord bless you, " cried the planter, taking an observation, "it's analligator!"

I said no more, but pressing on after the hound, soon left my companionsout of sight. For long afterward, the Colonel, in a doleful way, wouldallude to my lamentable deficiency in natural history--particularly insuch branches as bacon and "live logs. "

I had ridden about five miles, keeping well up with the hound, and hadreached the edge of the swamp, when suddenly the dog darted to the sideof the road, and began to yelp in the most frantic manner. Dismounting, and leading my horse to the spot, I made out plainly the print ofFirefly's feet in the sand. There was no mistaking it--that round shoeon the off forefoot. (The horse had, when a colt, a cracked hoof, andthough the wound was outgrown, the foot was still tender. ) These printswere dry, while the tracks we had seen at the river were filled withwater, thus proving that the rain had ceased while the overseer waspassing between the two places. He was therefore not far off. 

The Colonel and Sandy soon rode up. 

"Caught a live log! eh, my good fellow?" asked my host, with a laugh. 

"No; but here's the overseer as plain as daylight; and his tracks notwet!"

Quickly dismounting, he examined the ground, and then exclaimed:

"The d--l----it's a fact--here not four hours ago! He has doubled onhis tracks since, I'll wager, and not made twenty miles--we'll have himbefore night, sure! Come, mount--quick. "

We sprang into our saddles, and again pressed rapidly on after the dog, who followed the scent at the top of his speed. 

Some three miles more of wet, miry road took us to the run of which theColonel had spoken. Arrived there, we found the hound standing on thebank, wet to the skin, and looking decidedly chop-fallen. 

"Death and d----n!" shouted the Colonel; "the dog has swum the run, andlost the trail on the other side! The d--d scoundrel has taken to thewater, and balked us after all! Take up the dog, Sandy, and try himagain over there. "

The native spoke to Cæsar, who bounded on to the horse's back in frontof his master. They then crossed the stream, which there was aboutfifty yards wide, and so shallow that in the deepest part the watermerely touched the horse's breast; but it was so roiled by the recentrain that we could not distinguish the foot-prints of the horse beneaththe surface. 

The dog ranged up and down the opposite bank, but all to no purpose: theoverseer had not been there. He had gone either up or down thestream--in which direction, was now the question. Calling Sandy back toour side of the run, the Colonel proceeded to hold a 'council of war. 'Each one gave his opinion, which was canvassed by the others, with asmuch solemnity as if the fate of the Union hung on the decision. 

The native proposed we should separate--one go up, another down thestream, and the third, with the dog, follow the road; to which hethought Moye had finally returned. Those who should explore the runwould easily detect the horse's tracks where he had left it, and thentaking a straight course to the road, all might meet some five milesfurther on, at a place indicated. 

I gave my adhesion to Sandy's plan, but the Colonel overruled it on theground of the waste of time that would be incurred in thus recoveringthe overseer's trail. 

"Why not, " he said, "strike at once for the end of his route? Why followthe slow steps he took in order to throw us off the track? He has notcome back to this road. Ten miles below there is another one leadingalso to the railway. He has taken that. We might as well send Sandy andthe dog back and go on by ourselves. "

"But if bound for the Station, why should he wade through the creekhere, ten miles out of his way? Why not go straight on by the road?" Iasked. 

"Because he knew the dog would track him, and he hoped by taking to therun to make me think he had crossed the country instead of striking forthe railroad. "

I felt sure the Colonel was wrong, but knowing him to be tenacious ofhis own opinions, I made no further objection. 

Directing Sandy to call on Madam P---- and acquaint her with ourprogress, he then dismissed the negro-hunter, and once more led the wayup the road. 

The next twenty miles, like our previous route, lay through an unbrokenforest. As we left the watercourses, we saw only the gloomy pines, whichthere--the region being remote from the means of transportation--wereseldom tapped, and presented few of the openings that invite the wearytraveller to the dwelling of the hospitable planter. 

After a time the sky, which had been bright and cloudless all themorning, grew overcast, and gave out tokens of a coming storm. A blackcloud gathered in the west, and random flashes darted from it far off inthe distance; then gradually it neared us; low mutterings sounded in theair, and the tops of the tall pines a few miles away, were lit up nowand then with a fitful blaze, all the brighter for the deeper gloom thatsucceeded. Then a terrific flash and peal broke directly over us, and agreat tree, struck by a red-hot bolt, fell with a deafening crash, halfway across our path. Peal after peal followed, and then the rain--notfiltered into drops as it falls from our colder sky, but in broad, blinding sheets--poured full and heavy on our shelterless heads. 

"Ah! there it comes!" shouted the Colonel. "God have mercy upon us!"

As he spoke, a crashing, crackling, thundering roar rose above thestorm, filling the air, and shaking the solid earth till it trembledbeneath our horses' feet, as if upheaved by a volcano. Nearer and nearerthe sound came, till it seemed that all the legions of darkness wereunloosed in the forest, and were mowing down the great pines as themower mows the grass with his scythe. Then an awful, sweeping crashthundered directly at our backs, and turning round, as if to face a foe, my horse, who had borne the roar and the blinding flash till thenunmoved, paralyzed with dread, and panting for breath, sunk to theground; while close at my side the Colonel, standing erect in hisstirrups, his head uncovered to the pouring sky, cried out:

"THANK GOD, WE ARE SAVED!"

There--not three hundred yards in our rear, had passed theTORNADO--uprooting trees, prostrating dwellings, and sending many a soulto its last account, but sparing _us_ for another day! For thirty milesthrough the forest it had mowed a swath of two hundred feet, and thenmoved on to stir the ocean to its briny depths. 

With a full heart, I remounted, and turning my horse, pressed on in therain. We said not a word till a friendly opening pointed the way to aplanter's dwelling. Then calling to me to follow, the Colonel dashed upthe by-path which led to the mansion, and in five minutes we werewarming our chilled limbs before the cheerful fire that roared andcrackled on its broad hearth-stone. 

CHAPTER XII. 

THE YANKEE-SCHOOL-MISTRESS. 

The house was a large, old-fashioned frame building, square as apacking-box, and surrounded, as all country dwellings at the South are, by a broad, open piazza. Our summons was answered by its owner, awell-to-do, substantial, middle-aged planter, wearing the ordinaryhomespun of the district, but evidently of a station in life much abovethe common "corn-crackers" I had seen at the country meeting-house. TheColonel was an acquaintance, and greeting us with great cordiality, ourhost led the way directly to the sitting-room. There we found a bright, blazing fire, and a pair of bright sparkling eyes, the latter belongingto a blithesome young woman of about twenty, with a cheery face, and ahalf-rustic, half-cultivated air, whom our new friend introduced to usas his wife. 

"I regret not having had the pleasure of meeting Mrs. S---- before, butam very happy to meet her now, " said the Colonel, with all thewell-bred, gentlemanly ease that distinguished him. 

"The pleasure is mutual, Colonel J----, " replied the lady, "but thirtymiles in this wild country, should not have made a neighbor so distantas you have been. "

"Business, madam, is at fault, as your husband knows. I have much to do;and besides, all my connections are in the other direction--withCharleston. "

"It's a fact, Sally, the Colonel is the d---- busy man in these parts. Not content with a big plantation and three hundred niggers, he looksafter all South Carolina, and the rest of creation to boot, " said ourhost. 

"Tom will have his joke, Madam, but he's not far from the truth. "

Seeing we were dripping wet, the lady offered us a change of clothing, and retiring to a chamber, we each appropriated a suit belonging to ourhost, giving our own to a servant, to be dried. 

Arrayed in our fresh apparel, we soon rejoined our friends in thesitting-room. The new garments fitted the Colonel tolerably well, but, though none too long, they were a world too wide for me, and as my wethair hung in smooth flat folds down my cheeks, and my limp shirt-collarfell over my linsey coat, I looked for all the world like a crossbetween a theatrical Aminodab Sleek and Sir John Falstaff, with thestuffing omitted. When our hostess caught sight of me in this new garb, she rubbed her hands together in great glee, and, springing to her feet, gave vent to a perfect storm of laughter--jerking out between theexplosions:

"Why--you--you--look jest like--a scare-crow. "

There was no mistaking that hearty, hoydenish manner; and seizing bothof her hands in mine, I shouted: "I've found you out--you're a"country-woman" of mine--a clear-blooded Yankee!"

"What! _you_ a Yankee!" she exclaimed, still laughing, "and here withthis horrid 'secesherner, ' as they call him. "

"True as preachin', Ma'am, " I replied, adopting the drawl--"all the wayfrom Down East, and Union, tu, stiff as buckram. "

"Du tell!" she exclaimed, swinging my hands together as she held them inhers. "If I warn't hitched to this 'ere feller, I'd give ye a smackright on the spot. I'm _so_ glad to see ye. "

"Do it, Sally--never mind _me_, " cried her husband, joining heartily inthe merriment. 

Seizing the collar of my coat with both hands, she drew my face downtill my lips almost touched hers (I was preparing to blush, and theColonel shouted, "Come, come, I shall tell his wife"): but then turningquickly on her heel, she threw herself into a chair, exclaiming, "_I_wouldn't mind, but the _old man would be jealous_. " Addressing theColonel, she added, "_You_ needn't be troubled, sir, no Yankee girl willkiss _you_ till you change your politics. "

"Give me that inducement, and I'll change them on the spot, " said theColonel. 

"No, no, Dave, 'twouldn't do, " replied the planter; "the conversionwouldn't be genuwine--besides such things arn't proper, except 'mongblood-relations--and all the Yankees, you know are first-cousins. "

The conversation then subsided into a more placid mood, but lost none ofits genial, good humor. Refreshments were soon set before us, and whilepartaking of them I gathered from our hostess that she was a Vermontcountry-girl, who, some three years before, had been induced by liberalpay to come South as a teacher. A sister accompanied her, and about ayear after their arrival, she married a neighboring planter. Wishing tobe near her sister, our hostess had also married and settled down forlife in that wild region. "I like the country very well, " she added;"it's a great sight easier living here than in Vermont; but I do hatethese lazy, shiftless, good-for-nothing niggers; they are _so_ slow, and_so_ careless, and _so_ dirty, that I sometimes think they will worrythe very life out of me. I do believe I'm the hardest mistress in allthe district. "

I learned from her that a majority of the teachers at the South are fromthe North, and principally, too, from New England. Teaching is a verylaborious employment there, far more so than with us, for theSoutherners have no methods like ours, and the same teacher usually hasto hear lessons in branches all the way from Greek and Latin to thesimple A B C. The South has no system of public instruction; no commonschools; no means of placing within the reach of the sons and daughtersof the poor even the elements of knowledge. While the children of thewealthy are most carefully educated, it is the policy of the rulingclass to keep the great mass of the people in ignorance; and so long asthis policy continues, so long will that section be as far behind theNorth as it now is, in all that constitutes true prosperity andgreatness. 

The afternoon wore rapidly and pleasantly away in the genial society ofour wayside-friends. Politics were discussed (our host was a Union man), the prospects of the turpentine crop talked over, the recent newscanvassed, the usual neighborly topics touched upon, and--I hesitate toconfess it--a considerable quantity of corn whiskey disposed of, beforethe Colonel discovered, all at once, that it was six o'clock, and wewere still seventeen miles from the railway station. Arraying ourselvesagain in our dried garments, we bade a hasty but regretful "good-bye" toour hospitable entertainers, and once more took to the road. 

The storm had cleared away, but the ground was heavy with the recentrain, and our horses were sadly jaded with the ride of the morning. Wegave them the reins, and, jogging on at their leisure, it was teno'clock at night before they landed us at the little hamlet of W----Station, in the state of North Carolina. 

CHAPTER XIII. 

THE RAILWAY STATION. 

A large hotel, or station-house, and about a dozen log shanties made upthe village. Two of these structures were negro-cabins; two were smallgroceries, in which the vilest alcoholic compounds were sold at a bit(ten cents) a glass; one was a lawyer's office, in which was thepost-office, and a justice's court, where, once a month, the smalloffenders of the vicinity "settled up their accounts;" one was atailoring and clothing establishment, where breeches were patched at adime a stitch, and payment taken in tar and turpentine; and the restwere private dwellings of one apartment, occupied by the grocers, thetailor, the switch-tenders, the postmaster, and the negro _attachés_ ofthe railroad. The church and the school-house--the first buildings to goup in a Northern village--I have omitted to enumerate, because--theywere not there. 

One of the natives told me that the lawyer was a "stuck-up critter;" "hedon't live; he don't--he puts-up at th' hotel. " And the hotel! WouldShakspeare, had he have known it, have written of taking one's _ease_ athis inn? It was a long, framed building, two stories high, with apiazza extending across the side and a front door crowded as closelyinto one corner as the width of the joist would permit. Under thepiazza, ranged along the wall, was a low bench, occupied by about fortytin wash-basins and water-pails, and with coarse, dirty crash towelssuspended on rollers above it. By the side of each of these towels hunga comb and a brush, to which a lock of everybody's hair was clinging, forming in the total a stock sufficient to establish any barber in thewig business. 

It was, as I have said, ten o'clock when we reached the Station. Throwing the bridles of our horses over the hitching-posts at the door, we at once made our way to the bar-room. That apartment, which was inthe rear of the building, and communicated with by a long, narrowpassage, was filled almost to suffocation, when we entered, by a cloudof tobacco smoke, the fumes of bad whiskey, and a crowd of drunkenchivalry, through whom the Colonel with great difficulty elbowed his wayto the counter, where "mine host" and two assistants were dispensing"liquid death, " at the rate of ten cents a glass, and of ten glasses aminute. 

"Hello, Cunnel, how ar' ye, " cried the red-faced liquor-vender, as hecaught sight of my companion, and, relinquishing his lucrativeemployment for a moment, took the Colonel's hand, "how ar' ye?"

"Quite well, thank you, Miles, " said the Colonel, with a certainpatronizing air, "have you seen my man, Moye?"

"Moye, no! What's up with him?"

"He's run away with my horse, Firefly--I thought he would have made forthis station. At what time does the next train go up?"

"Wal, it's due half arter 'leven, but 'taint gin'rally 'long till nighone. "

The Colonel was turning to join me at the door, when a well-dressedyoung man of very unsteady movements, who was filling a glass at thecounter, and staring at him with a sort of dreamy amazement, stammeredout, "Moye--run--run a--way, zir! that--k--kant be--by G--. I know--him, zir--he's a--a friend of mine, and--I'm--I'm d----d if he ain'thon--honest. "

"About as honest as the Yankees run, " replied the Colonel, "he's ad----d thief, sir!"

"Look here--here, zir--don't--don't you--you zay any--thing 'gainst--theYankees. D----d if--if I aint--one of 'em mezelf--zir, " said the fellowstaggering toward the Colonel. 

"_I_ don't care _what_ you are; you're drunk. "

"You lie--you--you d----d 'ris--'ristocrat, " was the reply, as theinebriated gentleman aimed a blow, with all his unsteady might, at theColonel's face. 

The South Carolinian stepped quickly aside, and dexterously threw hisfoot before the other, who--his blow not meeting the expectedresistance--was unable to recover himself, and fell headlong to thefloor. The planter turned on his heel, and was walking quietly away, when the sharp report of a pistol sounded through the apartment, and aball tore through the top of his boot, and lodged in the wall within twofeet of where I was standing. With a spring, quick and sure as thetiger's, the Colonel was on the drunken man. Wrenching away the weapon, he seized the fellow by the neck-tie, and drawing him up to nearly hisfull height, dashed him at one throw to the other end of the room. Thenraising the revolver he coolly levelled it to fire!

But a dozen strong men were on him. The pistol was out of his hand, andhis arms were pinioned in an instant; while cries of "Fair play, sir!""He's drunk!" "Don't hit a man when he's down, " and other likeexclamations, came from all sides. 

"Give _me_ fair play, you d----d North Carolina hounds, " cried theColonel, struggling violently to get away, "and I'll fight the wholeposse of you. "

"One's 'nuff for _you_, ye d----d fire-eatin' 'ristocrat;" said a long, lean, bushy-haired, be-whiskered individual, who was standing near thecounter: "ef ye want to fight, _I'll_ 'tend to yer case to onst. Let himgo, boys, " he continued as he stepped toward the Colonel, and parted thecrowd that had gathered around him: "give him the shootin'-iron, andlet's see ef he'll take a man thet's sober. "

I saw serious trouble was impending, and stepping forward, I said to thelast speaker, "My friend, you have no quarrel with this gentleman. Hehas treated that man only as you would have done. "

"P'raps thet's so; but he's a d----d hound of a Secesherner thet'sdraggin' us all to h--ll; it'll du the country good to git quit of oneon 'em. "

"Whatever his politics are, he's a gentleman, sir, and has done you noharm--let me beg of you to let him alone. "

"Don't beg any thing for me, Mr. K----, " growled the Colonel through hisbarred teeth, "I'll fight the d----d corn-cracker, and his whole race, at once. "

"No you won't, my friend. For the sake of those at home you won't;" Isaid, taking him by the arm, and partly leading, partly forcing him, toward the door. 

"And who in h--ll ar you?" asked the corn-cracker, planting himselfsquarely in my way. 

"I'm on the same side of politics with you, Union to the core!" Ireplied. 

"Ye ar! Union! Then give us yer fist, " said he, grasping me by the hand;"by ---- it does a feller good to see a man dressed in yer cloes thethaint 'fraid to say he's Union, so close to South Car'lina, tu, as thisar! Come, hev a drink: come boys--all round--let's liquor!"

"Excuse me now, my dear fellow--some other time I'll be glad to joinyou. "

"Jest as ye say, but thar's my fist, enyhow. "

He gave me another hearty shake of the hand, and the crowd parting, Imade my way with the Colonel out of the room. We were followed by Miles, the landlord, who, when we had reached the front of the entrance-way, said, "I'm right sorry for this row, gentlemen; the boys will hev a timewhen they gets together. "

"Oh, never mind;" said the Colonel, who had recovered his coolness; "butwhy are all these people here?"

"Thar's a barbacue cumin' off to-morrer on the camp-ground, and thehouse is cram full. "

"Is that so?" said the Colonel, then turning to me he added, "Moye hastaken the railroad somewhere else; I must get to a telegraph office atonce, to head him off. The nearest one is Wilmington. With all theserowdies here, it will not do to leave the horses alone--will you stayand keep an eye on them over to-morrow?"

"Yes, I will, cheerfully. "

"Thar's a mighty hard set, round har now, Cunnel, " said the landlord;"and the most peaceable get enter scrapes ef they hain't no friends. Hadn't ye better show the gentleman some of your'n, 'fore you go?"

"Yes, yes, I didn't think of that. Who is here?"

"Wal, thar's Cunnel Taylor, Bill Barnes, Sam Heddleson, Jo Shackelford, Andy Jones, Rob Brown, and lots of others. "

"Where's Andy Jones?"

"Reckon he's turned in; I'll see. "

As the landlord opened a door which led from the hall, the Colonel saidto me, "Andy is a Union man; but he'd fight to the death for me. "

"Sal!" called out the hotel keeper. 

"Yas, massa, I'se har, " was the answer from a slatternly woman, awfullyblack in the face, who soon thrust her head from the door-way. 

"Is Andy Jones har?" asked Miles. 

"Yas, massa, he'm turned in up thar on de table. "

We followed the landlord into the apartment. It was the dining-room ofthe hotel, and by the dim light which came from a smoky fire on thehearth, I saw it contained about a hundred people, who, wrapped inblankets, bed-quilts and travelling-shawls, were disposed in allconceivable attitudes, and scattered about on the hard floor and tables, sleeping soundly. The room was a long, low apartment--extending acrossthe entire front of the house--and had a wretched, squalid look. Thefire, which was tended by the negro-woman--(she had spread a blanket onthe floor, and was keeping a drowsy watch over it for the night)--hadbeen recently replenished with green wood, and was throwing out thickvolumes of black smoke, which, mixing with the effluvia from the lungsof a hundred sleepers, made up an atmosphere next to impossible tobreathe. Not a window was open, and not an aperture for ventilationcould be seen!

Carefully avoiding the arms and legs of the recumbent chivalry, wepicked our way, guided by the negro-girl, to the corner of the roomwhere the Unionist was sleeping. Shaking him briskly by the shoulder, the Colonel called out: "Andy! Andy! wake up!"

"What--what the d----l is the matter?" stammered the sleeper, graduallyopening his eyes, and raising himself on one elbow, "Lord bless you, Cunnel, is that you? what in ---- brought _you_ har?"

"Business, Andy. Come, get up, I want to see you, and I can't talkhere. "

The North Carolinian slowly rose, and throwing his blanket over hisshoulders, followed us from the room. When we had reached the open airthe Colonel introduced me to his friend, who expressed surprise, and agreat deal of pleasure, at meeting a Northern Union man in the Colonel'scompany. 

"Look after our horses, now, Miles; Andy and I want to talk, " said theplanter to the landlord, with about as little ceremony as he would haveshown to a negro. 

I thought the white man did not exactly relish the Colonel's manner, butsaying, "All right, all right, sir, " he took himself away. 

The night was raw and cold, but as all the rooms of the hotel wereoccupied, either by sleepers or carousers, we had no other alternativethan to hold our conference in the open air. Near the railway-track alight-wood fire was blazing, and, obeying the promptings of the frostyatmosphere, we made our way to it. Lying on the ground around it, divested of all clothing except a pair of linsey trousers and a flannelshirt, and with their naked feet close to its blaze--roasting at oneextremity, and freezing at the other--were several blacks, theswitch-tenders and woodmen of the Station--fast asleep. How human beingscould sleep in such circumstances seemed a marvel, but furtherobservation convinced me that the Southern negro has a natural aptitudefor that exercise, and will, indeed, bear more exposure than any otherliving thing. Nature in giving him such powers of endurance, appears tohave specially fitted him for the life of hardship and privation towhich he is born. 

The fire-light enabled me to scan the appearance of my new acquaintance. He was rather above the medium height, squarely and somewhat stoutlybuilt, and had an easy and self-possessed, though rough and unpolishedmanner. His face, or so much of it as was visible from underneath athick mass of reddish gray hair, denoted a firm, decided character; butthere was a manly, open, honest expression about it that gained one'sconfidence in a moment. He wore a slouched hat and a suit of theordinary "sheep's-grey, " cut in the "sack" fashion, and hanging looselyabout him. He seemed a man who had made his own way in the world, and Isubsequently learned that appearances did not belie him. The son of a"poor white" man, with scarcely the first rudiments of book-education, he had, by sterling worth, natural ability, and great force ofcharacter, accumulated a handsome property, and acquired a leadingposition in his district. Though on "the wrong side of politics, " hispersonal popularity was so great that for several successive years hehad been elected to represent the county in the state legislature. TheColonel, though opposed to him in politics--and party feeling at theSouth runs so high that political opponents are seldom personalfriends--had, in the early part of his career, aided him by hisendorsements; and Andy had not forgotten the service. It was easy to seethat while two men could not be more unlike in character and appearancethan my host and the North Carolinian, they were warm and intimatefriends. 

"So, Moye has been raising h--ll gin'rally, Colonel, " said my newacquaintance after a time. "I'm not surprised. I never did b'lieve inYankee nigger-drivers--sumhow it's agin natur' for a Northern man to goSouthern principles quite so strong as Moye did. "

"Which route do you think he has taken?" asked the Colonel. 

"Wal, I reckon arter he tuk to the run, he made fur the mountings. Heknow'd you'd head him on the travelled routes; so he's put, I think, furthe Missussippe, where he'll sell the horse and make North. "

"I'll follow him, " said the Colonel, "to the ends of the earth. If itcosts me five thousand dollars, I'll see him hung. "

"Wal, " replied Andy, laughing, "if he's gone North you'll need aextradition treaty to kotch him. South Car'lina, I b'lieve, has set upfur a furrin country. "

"That's true, " said the Colonel, also laughing, "she's "furrin" to theYankees, but not to the old North State. "

"D----d if she haint, " replied the North Carolinian, "and now she's gotout on our company, I swear she must keep out. We'd as soon think ofgoin' to h----ll in summer time, as of jining partnership with her. Cunnel, you'r the only decent man in the State--d----d if youhaint--and _your_ politics are a'most bad 'nuff to spile a township. Itallers seemed sort o'queer to me, that a man with such a mighty goodheart as your'n, could be so short in the way of brains. "

"Well, you're complimentary, " replied the Colonel, with the utmostgood-nature, "but let's drop politics; we never could agree, you know. What shall I do about Moye?"

"Go to Wilmington and telegraph all creation: wait a day to har, then ifyou don't har, go home, hire a native overseer, and let Moye go to thed----l. Ef it'll do you any good I'll go to Wilmington with you, thoughI did mean to give you Secesherners a little h--har to-morrer. "

"No, Andy, I'll go alone. 'Twouldn't be patriotic to take you away fromthe barbacue. You'd 'spile' if you couldn't let off some gas soon. "

"I do b'lieve I shud. Howsumdever, thar's nary a thing I wouldn't do foryou--you knows that. "

"Yes, I do, and I wish you'd keep an eye on my Yankee friend here, andsee he don't get into trouble with any of the boys--there'll be a hardset 'round, I reckon. "

"Wal, I will, " said Andy, "but all he's to do is to keep his mouthshet. "

"That seems easy enough, " I replied, laughing. 

A desultory conversation followed for about an hour, when thesteam-whistle sounded, and the up-train arrived. The Colonel got onboard and bidding us "good-night, " went on to Wilmington. Andy thenproposed we should look up sleeping accommodations. It was useless toseek quarters at the hotel, but an empty car was on the turn-out, andbribing one of the negroes we got access to it, and were soon stretchedat full length on two of its hard-bottomed seats. 

CHAPTER XIV. 

THE BARBACUE. 

The camp-ground was about a mile from the station, and pleasantlysituated in a grove, near a stream of water. It was in frequent use bythe camp-meetings of the Methodist denomination--which sect at the Southis partial to these rural religious gatherings. Scattered over it, withan effort at regularity, were about forty small but neat log cottages, thatched with the long leaves of the turpentine pine, and chinked withbranches of the same tree. Each of these houses was floored with leavesor straw, and large enough to afford sleeping accommodations for aboutten persons, provided they spread their bedding on the ground, and laytolerably close together. Interspersed among the cabins were about adozen canvas tents which had been erected for this especial occasion. 

Nearly in the centre of the group of huts a rude sort of scaffold, fouror five feet high, and surrounded by a rustic railing, served for thespeaker's stand. It would seat about a dozen persons, and was protectedby a roof of pine-boughs, interlaced together so as to keep off the sun, without affording protection from the rain. In the rear of this standwere two long tables, made of rough boards, and supported on stoutjoists, crossed on each other in the form of the letter X. A canopy ofgreen leaves shaded the grounds, and the whole grove, which wasperfectly free from underbrush, was carpeted with the soft, browntassels of the pine. 

Being fatigued with the ride of the previous day, I did not awake tillthe morning was far advanced, and it was nearly ten o'clock when Andyand I took our way to the camp-ground. Avoiding the usual route, wewalked on through the forest. It was mid-winter, and vegetation lay deadall around us, awaiting the time when spring should breathe into it thebreath of life, and make it a living thing. There was silence and restin the deep woods. The birds were away on their winter wanderings; theleaves hung motionless on the tall trees, and nature seemed resting fromher ceaseless labors, and listening to the soft music of the littlestream which sung a cheerful song as it rambled on over the roots andfallen branches that blocked its way. Soon a distant murmur arose, andwe had not proceeded far before as many sounds as were heard at Babelmade a strange concert about our ears. The lowing of the ox, theneighing of the horse, and the deep braying of another animal, mingledwith a thousand human voices, came through the woods. But above and overall rose the stentorian tones of the stump speaker, "As he trod the shaky platform, With the sweat upon his brow. "

About a thousand persons were already assembled on the ground, and amore motley gathering I never witnessed. All sorts of costumes and allclasses of people were there; but the genuine back-woods corn-crackerscomposed the majority of the assemblage. As might be expected much thelarger portion of the audience were men, still I saw some women and nota few children; many of the country people having taken advantage of theoccasion to give their families a holiday. Some occupied benches infront of the stand, though a larger number were seated around in groups, within hearing of the speaker, but paying very little attention to whathe was saying. A few were whittling--a few pitching quoits, or playingleap-frog, and quite a number were having a quiet game of whist, euchreor "seven-up. "

The speaker was a well-dressed, gentlemanly-looking man and a tolerablygood orator. He seemed accustomed to addressing a jury, for he displayedall the adroitness in handling his subject, and in appealing to theprejudices of his hearers, that we see in successful special pleaders. But he overshot his mark. To nine out of ten of his audience, his wordsand similes, though correct, and sometimes beautiful, were asunintelligible as the dead languages. He advocated immediate, unconditional secession; and I thought from the applause which met hisremarks, whenever he seemed to make himself understood, that the largemajority of those present were of the same way of thinking. 

He was succeeded by a heavy-browed, middle-aged man, slightly bent, andwith hair a little turned to gray, but still hale, athletic, and in theprime and vigor of manhood. His pantaloons and waistcoat were of thecommon homespun, and he used, now and then, a word of the countrydialect, but as a stump-speaker he was infinitely superior to the morepolished orator who had preceded him. 

He, too, advocated secession, as a right and a duty--separation, now andforever, from the dirt-eating, money-loving Yankees, who, he was ashamedto say, had the same ancestry, and worshipped the same God, as himself. He took the bold ground that slavery is a curse to both the black andthe white, but that it was forced upon this generation before its birth, by these same greedy, grasping Yankees, who would sell not only thebones and sinews of their fellow men, but--worse than that--their ownsouls, for gold. It was forced upon them without their consent, and nowthat it had become interwoven with all their social life, and was anecessity of their very existence, the hypocritical Yankees would takeit from them, because, forsooth, it is a sin and a wrong--as if _they_had to bear its responsibility, or the South could not settle its ownaffairs with its MAKER!

"Slavery is now, " he continued, "indispensable to us. Without it, cotton, rice, and sugar will cease to grow, and the South will starve. What if it works abuses? What if the black, at times, is overburdened, and his wife and daughters debauched? Man is not perfect anywhere--thereare wrongs in every society. It is for each one to give his account, insuch matters, to his God. But in this are we worse than they? Are therenot abuses in society at the North? Are not their laborers overworked?While sin here hides itself under cover of the night, does it not therestalk abroad at noon-day? If the wives and daughters of blacks aredebauched here, are not the wives and daughters of whites debauchedthere? and will not a Yankee barter away the chastity of his own motherfor a dirty dollar? Who fill our brothels? Yankee women! Who load ourpenitentiaries, crowd our whipping-posts, debauch our slaves, and cheatand defraud us all? Yankee men! And I say unto you, fellow-citizens, "and here the speaker's form seemed to dilate with the wild enthusiasmwhich possessed him, "'come out from among them; be ye separate, andtouch not the unclean thing, ' and thus saith the Lord God of Hosts, whowill guide you, and lead you, if need be, to battle and to victory!"

A perfect storm of applause followed. The assemblage rose, and one long, wild shout rent the old woods, and made the tall trees tremble. It wassome minutes before the uproar subsided; when it did, a voice near thespeaker's stand called out, "Andy Jones!" The call was at once echoed byanother voice, and soon a general shout for "Andy!" "Union Andy!" "BullyAndy!" went up from the same crowd which a moment before had so wildlyapplauded the secession speaker. 

Andy rose from where he was seated beside me, and quietly ascended thesteps of the platform. Removing his hat, and passing to his mouth a hugequid of tobacco from a tin box in his pantaloons-pocket, he madeseveral rapid strides up and down the speaker's stand, and then turnedsquarely to the audience. 

The reader has noticed a tiger pacing up and down in his cage, with hiseyes riveted on the human faces before him. He has observed how he willsingle out some individual, and finally stopping short in his rounds, turn on him with a look of such intense ferocity as makes a man's bloodstand still, and his very breath come thick and hard, as he momentarilyexpects the beast will tear away the bars of the cage and leap forth onthe obnoxious person. Now, Andy's fine, open, manly face had nothing ofthe tiger in it, but, for a moment, I could not divest myself of theimpression, as he halted in his walk up and down the stage, and turnedfull and square on the previous speaker--who had taken a seat among theaudience near me--that he was about to spring upon him. Riveting his eyeon the man's face, he at last slowly said:

"A man stands har and quotes Scriptur agin his feller man, and forgetsthat 'God made of one blood all nations that dwell on the face of the'arth. ' A man stands har and calls his brother a thief, and his mother aharlot, and axes us to go his doctrin's! I don't mean his brother in theScriptur sense, nor his mother in a fig'rative sense, but I mean thebrother of his own blood, and the mother that bore him; for HE, gentlemen (and he pointed his finger directly at the recent speaker, while his words came slow and heavy with intense scorn), HE is a Yankee!And now, I say, gentlemen, d--n sech doctrin's; d----n sechprinciples, and d----n the man that's got a soul so black as to utter'em!"

A breathless silence fell on the assemblage, while the person alluded tosprang to his feet, his face on fire, and his voice thick and brokenwith intense rage, as he yelled out: "Andy Jones, by----, you shallanswer for this!"

"Sartin, " said Andy, coolly inserting his thumbs in the armholes of hiswaistcoat; "enywhar you likes--har--now--ef 'greeable to you. "

"I've no weapon here, sir, but I'll give you a chance mighty sudden, "was the fierce reply. 

"Suit yourself, " said Andy, with perfect imperturbability; "but as youhaint jest ready, s'pose you set down, and har me tell 'bout yourrelations: they're a right decent set--them as I knows--and I'll swarthey're 'shamed of you. "

A buzz went through the crowd, and a dozen voices called out: "Be civil, Andy"--"Let him blow"--"Shut up"--"Go in, Jones"--with other likeelegant exclamations. 

A few of his friends took the aggrieved gentleman aside, and, soonquieting him, restored order. 

"Wal, gentlemen, " resumed Andy, "all on you know whar I was raised--overthar in South Car'lina. I'm sorry to say it, but it's true. And you allknow my father was a pore man, who couldn't give his boys no chance--andef he could, thar warn't no schules in the district--so we couldn't hevgot no book-larning ef we'd been a minded to. Wal, the next plantationto whar we lived was old Cunnel J----'s, the father of this cunnel. Hewas a d----d old nullifier, jest like his son--but not half so decent aman. Wal, on his plantation was an old nigger called Uncle Pomp, who'dsumhow larned to read. He was a mighty good nigger, and he'd hev been inheaven long afore now ef the Lord hadn't a had sum good use for him downhar--but he'll be thar yet a d----d sight sooner than sum on us whitefolks--that's sartin. Wal, as I was saying, Pomp could read, and when Iwas 'bout sixteen, and had never seen the inside of a book, the olddarky said to me one day--he was old then, and that was thirty yearsago--wal, he said to me, 'Andy, chile, ye orter larn to read, 'twill beob use to ye when you'se grow'd up, and it moight make you a good and'spected man--now, come to ole Pomp's cabin, and he'll larn you, Andy, chile. ' Wal, I reckon I went. He'd nothin' but a Bible and Watts' Hymns;but we used to stay thar all the long winter evenin's, and by the lighto' the fire--we war both so darned pore we couldn't raise a candleatween us--wal, by the light o' the fire he larned me, and fore long Icould spell right smart. 

"Now, jest think on that, gentlemen. I, a white boy, and, 'cordin' tothe Declaration of Independence, with jest as good blood in me as theold Cunnel had in him, bein' larned to read by an old slave, and thatold slave a'most worked to death, and takin' his nights, when he orterhev been a restin' his old bones, to larn me! I'm d----d if he don'tget to heaven for that one thing, if for nothin' else. 

"Wal, you all know the rest--how, when I'd grow'd up, I settled har, inthe old North State, and how the young Cunnel backed my paper, and setme a runnin' at turpentining. P'raps you don't think this has much to dowith the Yankees, but it has a durned sight, as ye'll see rather sudden. Wal, arter a while, when I'd got a little forehanded, I begun shippingmy truck to York and Bostin'; and at last my Yankee factor, he come outhar, inter the back woods, to see me, and says he, 'Jones, come Northand take a look at us. ' I'd sort o' took to him. I'd lots o' dealin'swith him afore ever I seed him, and I allers found him straight as ashingle. Wal, I went North, and he took me round, and showed me how theYankees does things. Afore I know'd him, I allers thought--as p'rapsmost on you do--that the Yankees war a sort o' cross atween the deviland a Jew; but how do you s'pose I found 'em? I found that they _sentthe pore man's children to schule_, FREE--and that the schule-houses wara d----d sight thicker than the bugs in Miles Privett's beds! andthat's sayin' a heap, for ef eny on you kin sleep in his house, excep'he takes to the soft side of the floor, I'm d----d. Yas, the pore man'schildren are larned thar, FREE!--all on 'em--and they've jest so good achance as the sons of the rich man! Now, arter that, do you think thatI--as got all my schulein, from an old slave, by the light of a borroredpine-knot--der you think that _I_ kin say any thing agin the Yankees?P'r'aps they _do_ steal--though I doant know it--p'r'aps they _do_debauch thar wives and darters, and sell thar mothers' vartue fordollars--but, ef they do, I'm d----d if they doant send pore childrento schule--and that's more'n we do--and let me tell you, until we dothet, we must expec' they'll be cuter and smarter nor we are. 

"This gentleman, too, my friends, who's been a givin' sech a hardsettin' down ter his own relation, arter they've broughten him up, andgiven him sech a schulein for nuthin', he says the Yankees want tointerfere with our niggers. Now, thet haint so, and they couldn't efthey would, 'case it's agin the Constertution. And they stand on theConstertution a durned sight solider nor we do. Didn't thar biggun--Daniel Webster--didn't he make mince-meat of South Car'lina Hayneon thet ar' subjec'? But I tell you they haint a mind ter meddle withthe niggers; they're a goin' to let us go ter h--l our own way, andwe're goin' thar mighty fast, or I haint read the last census. "

"P'r'aps you haint heerd on the ab'lsh'ners, Andy?" cried a voice fromamong the audience. 

"Wal, I reckon I hev, " responded the orator, "I've heerd on 'em, andseed 'em, too. When I was North I went to one on thar conventions, andI'll tell you how they look. They've all long, wimmin's har, and thin, shet lips, with big, bawlin' mouths, and long, lean, tommerhawk faces, as white as vargin dip--and they all talk through the nose (giving aspecimen), and they all look for all the world jest like the SouthCar'lina fire-eaters--and they _are_ as near like 'em as two peas, excep' they don't swar quite so bad, but they make up for thet inprayin'--and prayin' too much, I reckon, when a man's a d----dhippercrit, is 'bout as bad as swearin'. But, I tell you, the decentfolks up North haint ablisheners. They look on _'em_ jest as we do onmad dogs, the itch, or the nigger traders. 

"Now, 'bout this secession bis'ness--though 'taint no use to talk onthat subjec', 'case this state never'll secede--South Car'lina has doneit, and I'm raather glad she has, for though I was born thar--and say itas hadn't orter say it--she orter hev gone to h--l long ago, and nowshe's got thar, why--_let her stay_! But, 'bout thet bis'ness, I'll tellyou a story. 

"I know'd an old gentleman once by the name of Uncle Sam, and he'd aheap of sons. They war all likely boys--but strange ter tell, thoughthey'd all the same mother, and she was a white woman, 'bout half on 'emwar colored--not black, but sorter half-and-half. Now, the white sonswar well-behaved, industrious, hard-workin' boys, who got 'long well, edicated thar children, and allers treated the old man decently; but themulatter fellers war a pesky set--though some on 'em war better norothers. They wouldn't work, but set up for airystocracy--rode inkerriges, kept fast horses, bet high, and chawed tobaccer like thedevil. Wal, the result was, _they_ got out at the elbows, and 'case theywarn't gettin' 'long quite so fast as the white 'uns--though that warall thar own fault--they got jealous, and one on 'em who was blacker norall the rest--a little feller, but terrible big on braggin'--he packedup his truck one night, and left the old man's house, and swore he'dnever come back. He tried to make the other mulatters go with him, butthey put thar fingers to thar nose, and says they, 'No you doant. ' I wasin favor of lettin' on him stay out in the cold, but the old man was abernevolent old critter, and so _he_ says: 'Now, sonny, you jest comeback and behave yourself, and I'll forgive you all your old pranks, andtreat you jest as I allers used ter; but, ef you wont, why--I'll makeyou, thet's all!'

"Now, gentlemen, thet quarrelsome, oneasy, ongrateful, tobaccer-chawin', hoss-racin', high-bettin', big-braggin', nigger-stealin', wimmin-whippin', yaller son of the devil, is South Car'lina, and ef shedoant come back and behave herself in futur', I'm d----d ef she wont beploughed with fire, and sowed with salt, and Andy Jones will help ter doit. "

The speaker was frequently interrupted in the course of his remarks byuproarious applause--but as he closed and descended from the platform, the crowd sent up cheer after cheer, and a dozen strong men, making aseat of their arms, lifted him from the ground and bore him off to thehead of the table, where dinner was in waiting. 

The whole of the large assemblage then fell to eating. The dinner wasmade up of the barbacued beef and the usual mixture of viands found on aplanter's table, with water from the little brook hard by, and aplentiful supply of corn-whiskey. (The latter beverage had, I thought, been subjected to the rite of immersion, for it tasted wonderfully ofwater. )

Songs and speeches were intermingled with the masticating exercises, andthe whole company was soon in the best of humor. 

During the meal I was introduced by Andy to a large number of the"natives, " he taking special pains to tell each one that I was a Yankee, and a Union man, but always adding, as if to conciliate all parties, that I also was a guest and a friend of _his_ very particular friend, "thet d----d seceshener, Cunnel J----. "

Before we left the table, the secession orator happening near where wewere seated, Andy rose from his seat, and, extending his hand to him, said: "Tom, you think I 'sulted you; p'r'aps I did, but you 'sulted myYankee friend har, and your own relation, and I hed to take it up, jestfor the looks o' the thing. Come, there's my hand; I'll fight you ef youwant ter, or we'll say no more 'bout it--jest as you like. "

"Say no more about it, Andy, " said the gentleman, very cordially; "let'sdrink and be friends. "

They drank a glass of whiskey together, and then leaving the table, proceeded to where the ox had been barbacued, to show me how cooking ona large scale is done at the South. 

In a pit about eight feet deep, twenty feet long, and ten feet wide, laid up on the sides with stones, a fire of hickory had been made, overwhich, after the wood had burned down to coals, a whole ox, divested ofits hide and entrails, had been suspended on an enormous spit. Beingturned often in the process of cooking, the beef had finally been "donebrown. " It was then cut up and served on the table, and I must say, forthe credit of Southern cookery, that it made as delicious eating as anymeat I ever tasted. 

I had then been away from my charge--the Colonel's horses--as long asseemed to be prudent. I said as much to Andy, when he proposed to returnwith me, and, turning good-humoredly to his reconciled friend, he said:"Now, Tom, no secession talk while I'm off. "

"Nary a word, " said "Tom, " and we left. 

The horses had been well fed by the negro whom I had left in charge ofthem, but had not been groomed. Seeing that, Andy stripped off his coat, and setting the black at work on one, with a handful of straw and pineleaves, commenced operations on the other, whose hair was soon as smoothand glossy as if it had been rubbed by an English groom. 

The remainder of the day passed without incident till eleven at night, when the Colonel returned from Wilmington. 

CHAPTER XV. 

THE RETURN. 

Moye had not been seen or heard of, and the Colonel's trip wasfruitless. While at Wilmington he sent telegrams, directing theoverseer's arrest, to the various large cities of the South, and thendecided to return home, make arrangements preliminary to a protractedabsence from the plantation, and proceed at once to Charleston, where hewould await replies to his dispatches. Andy agreed with him in theopinion that Moye, in his weak state of health, would not take anoverland route to the free states, but would endeavor to reach some townon the Mississippi, where he might dispose of the horse, and secure apassage up the river. 

As no time was to be lost, we decided to return to the plantation on thefollowing morning. Accordingly, with the first streak of day we bade"good-bye" to our Union friend, and started homeward. 

No incident worthy of mention occurred on the way, till about teno'clock, when we arrived at the house of the Yankee schoolmistress, where we had been so hospitably entertained two days before. The ladyreceived us with great cordiality, forced upon us a lunch to serve ourhunger on the road, and when we parted, enjoined on me to leave theSouth at the earliest possible moment. She was satisfied it would notfor a much longer time be safe quarters for a man professing Unionsentiments. Notwithstanding the strong manifestations of loyalty I hadobserved among the people, I was convinced the advice of my pretty"countrywoman" was judicious, and I determined to be governed by it. 

Our horses, unaccustomed to lengthy journeys, had not entirely recoveredfrom the fatigues of their previous travel, and we did not reach ourdestination till an hour after dark. We were most cordially welcomed byMadam P----, who soon set before us a hot supper, which, as we werejaded by the long ride, and had fasted for twelve hours, onbacon-sandwiches and cold hoe-cake, was the one thing needful to us. 

While seated at the table the Colonel asked:

"Has every thing gone right, Alice, since we left home?"

"Every thing, " replied the lady, "except"--and she hesitated, as if shedreaded the effect of the news; "except that Jule and her child havegone. "

"Gone!" exclaimed my host; "gone where?"

"I don't know. We have searched everywhere, but have found no clue tothem. The morning you left Sam set Jule at work among the pines; shetried hard, but could not do a full task, and at night was taken to thecabin to be whipped. I heard of it, and forbade it. It did not seem tome that she ought to be punished for not doing what she had not strengthto do. When released from the cabin, she came and thanked me for havinginterfered for her, and talked with me awhile. She cried and took onfearfully about Sam, and was afraid you would punish her when youreturned. I promised you would not, and she left me seeming morecheerful. I supposed she would go directly home after getting her childfrom the nurse's quarters; but it appears she went to Pompey's, whereshe staid till after ten o'clock. Neither she nor the child have beenseen since. "

"Did you get no trace of her in the morning?"

"Yes, but soon lost it. When she did not appear at work, Sam went to hercabin to learn the cause, and found the door open, and her bedundisturbed. She had not slept there. Knowing that Sandy had returned, Isent for him, and, with Jim and his dog, he commenced a search. The dogtracked her directly from Pompey's cabin to the bank of the run near thelower still. There all trace of her disappeared. We dragged the stream, but discovered nothing. Jim and Sandy then scoured the woods for milesin all directions, but the hound could not recover the trail. I hopeotherwise, but I fear some evil has befallen her. "

"Oh, no! there's no fear of that, " said the Colonel: "she is smart: shewaded up the run far enough to baffle the dog, and then made for theswamp. That is why you lost her tracks at the stream. Rely upon it, I amright: but she shall not escape me. "

We shortly afterward adjourned to the library. After being seated therea while the Colonel, rising quickly, as if a sudden thought had struckhim, sent for the old preacher. 

The old negro soon appeared, hat in hand, and taking a stand near thedoor, made a respectful bow to each one of us. 

"Take a chair, Pompey, " said Madam P----, kindly. 

The black meekly seated himself, when the Colonel asked: "Well, Pomp, what do you know about Jule's going off?"

"Nuffin', massa--I shures you, nuffin'. De pore chile say nuffin to olePomp 'bout dat. "

"What did she say?"

"Wal, you see, massa, de night arter you gwo 'way, and arter she'dworked hard in de brush all de day, and been a strung up in de ole cabinfur to be whipped, she come ter me wid har baby in har arms, all a-faintand a-tired, and har pore heart clean broke, and she say dat she'm jessready ter drop down and die. Den I tries ter comfut har, massa; I takeshar up from de floor, and I say ter har dat de good Lord He pityhar--dat He woant bruise de broken reed, and woant put no more on herdan she kin b'ar--dat He'd touch you' heart, and I toled har you'se agood, kine heart at de bottom, massa--and I knows it, 'case I toted you'fore you could gwo, and when you's a bery little chile, not no greatsight bigger'n har'n, you'd put your little arms round ole Pomp's neck, and say dat when you war grow'd up you'd be bery kine ter de pore brackfolks, and not leff 'em be 'bused like dey war in dem days. "

"Never mind what _you_ said, " interrupted the Colonel, a littleimpatiently, but showing no displeasure; "what did _she_ say?"

"Wal, massa, she tuk on bery hard 'bout Sam, and axed me ef I raailyreckoned de Lord had forgib'n him, and took'n him ter Heself, and gibin'him one o' dem hous'n up dar, in de sky. I toled her dat I _know'd_ it;but she say it didn't 'pear so ter har, 'case Sam had a been wid har outdar in de woods, all fru de day; dat she'd a _seed_ him, massa, anddough he handn't a said nuffin', he'd lukd at har wid sech a sorry, grebed luk, dat it gwo clean fru har heart, till she'd no strength leff, and fall down on de ground a'most dead. Den she say big Sam come 'longand fine har dar, and struck har great, heaby blows wid de big whip!"

"The brute!" exclaimed the Colonel, rising from his chair, and pacingrapidly up and down the room. 

"But p'r'aps he warn't so much ter blame, massa, " continued the oldnegro, in a deprecatory tone; "maybe he 'spose she war shirkin' de work. Wal, den she say she know'd nuffin' more, till byme-by, when she cometo, and fine big Sam dar, and he struck har agin, and make har gwo terde work; and she did gwo, but she feel like as ef she'd die. I toled harde good ma'am wudn't leff big Sam 'buse har no more 'fore you cum hum, and dat you'd hab 'passion on har, and not leff har gwo out in de woods, but put har 'mong de nusses, like as afore. 

"Den she say it 'twarn't de work dat trubble har--dat she orter work, and orter be 'bused, 'case she'd been bad, bery bad. All she axed wardat Sam would forgib har, and cum to har in de oder worle, and tell harso. Den she cried, and tuk on awful; but de good Lord, massa, dat am sobery kine ter de bery wuss sinners, He put de words inter my mouf, and Itink dey gib har comfut, fur she say dat it sort o' 'peared to har dendat Sam _would_ forgib har, and take har inter his house up dar, and shewarn't afeard ter die no more. 

"Den she takes up de chile and gwo 'way, 'pearin' sort o' happy, andmore cheerful like dan I'd a seed har eber sense pore Sam war shot. "

My host was sensibly affected by the old man's simple tale, butcontinued pacing up and down the room, and said nothing. 

"It's plain to me, Colonel, " I remarked, as Pompey concluded, "she hasdrowned herself and the child--the dog lost the scent at the creek. "

"Oh, no!" he replied; "I think not. I never heard of a negro committingsuicide--they've not the courage to do it. "

"I fear she _has_, David, " said the lady. "The thought of going to Samhas led her to it; yet, we dragged the run, and found nothing. What doyou think about it, Pompey?"

"I dunno, ma'am, but I'se afeard of dat; and now dat I tinks ob it, I'seafeard dat what I tole har put har up ter it, " replied the old preacher, bursting into tears. "She 'peared so happy like, when I say she'd be'long wid Sam in de oder worle, dat I'se afeard she's a gone and doneit wid har own hands. I tole har, too, dat de Lord would oberlook goodmany tings dat pore sinners do when dey can't help 'emselfs--and it makehar do it! Oh! it make har do it!" and the old black buried his face inhis hands, and wept bitterly. 

"Don't feel so, Pomp, " said his master, _very_ kindly. "You did the bestyou could; no one blames you. "

"I knows _you_ doant, massa--I knows you doant, and you'se bery goodnottur--but oh! massa, de Lord!" and his body swayed to and fro with thegreat grief; "I fears de Lord do, massa, for I'se sent har ter Him widhar own blood, and de blood of dat pore innercent chile, on har hands. Oh, I fears de Lord neber'll forgib me--neber'll forgib me for _dat_. "

"He will, my good Pomp--He will!" said the Colonel, laying his handtenderly on the old man's shoulder. "The Lord will forgive you, for thesake of the Christian example you've set your master, if for nothingelse;" and here the proud, strong man's feelings overpowering him, histears fell in great drops on the breast of the old slave, as they hadfallen there in his childhood. 

Such scenes are not for the eye of a stranger, and turning away, I leftthe room. 

CHAPTER XVI. 

"ONE MORE UNFORTUNATE. "

The family met at the breakfast-table at the usual hour on the followingmorning; but I noticed that Jim was not in his accustomed place behindthe Colonel's chair. That gentleman exhibited his usual good spirits, but Madam P---- looked sad and anxious, and _I_ had not forgotten thescene of the previous evening. 

While we were seated at the meal, the negro Junius hastily entered theroom, and in an excited manner exclaimed:

"Oh, massa, massa, you muss cum ter de cabin--Jim hab draw'd his knife, and he swar he'll kill de fuss 'un dat touch him!"

"He does, does he!" said his master, springing from his seat, andabruptly leaving the apartment. 

Remembering the fierce burst of passion I had seen in the negro, andfearing there was danger a-foot, I rose to follow, saying, as I did so:

"Madam, cannot you prevent this?"

"I cannot, sir; I have already done all I can. Go and try to pacify theColonel--Jim will die before he'll be whipped. " Jim was standing at thefarther end of the old cabin, with his back to the wall, and the largespring knife in his hand. Some half-dozen negroes were in the centre ofthe room, apparently cowed by his fierce and desperate looks, and hismaster was within a few feet of him. 

"I tell you, Cunnel, " cried the negro, as I entered, "you touch me atyour peril!"

"You d----d nigger, do you dare to speak so to me?" said his master, taking a step toward him. 

The knife rose in the air, and the black, in a cool, sneering tone, replied: "Say your prayers 'fore you come nigher, for, so help me God, you'm a dead man!"

I laid my hand on the Colonel's arm, to draw him back, saying, as I didso: "There's danger in him! I _know_ it. Let him go, and he shall askyour pardon. "

"I shan't ax his pardon, " cried the black; "leff him an' me be, sir;we'll fix dis ourselfs. "

"Don't interfere, Mr. K----, " said my host, with perfect coolness, butwith a face pallid with rage. "Let me govern my own plantation. "

"As you say, sir, " I replied, stepping back a few paces; "but I warnyou--there is danger in him!"

Taking no notice of my remark, the Colonel turning to the tremblingnegroes, said: "One of you go to the house and bring my pistols. "

"You kin shoot me, ef you likes, " said Jim, with a fierce, grim smile;"but I'll take you ter h--l wid me, _shore_. You knows WE wont stand ablow!"

The Colonel, at the allusion to their relationship, started as if shot, and turning furiously on the negro, yelled out: "I'll shoot you forthat, you d----d nigger, by ----. "

"It 'pears ter me, Cunnel, ye've hed 'bout nuff shootin' round har, lately; better stop thet sort o' bis'ness; it moight give ye a sorethroat, " said the long, lean, loose-jointed stump-speaker of theprevious Sunday, as he entered the cabin and strode directly up to myhost. 

"What brought you here, you d----d insolent hound?" cried the Colonel, turning fiercely on the new-comer. 

"Wal, I cum ter du ye a naaboorly turn--I've kotched two on yer niggersdown ter my still, and I want ye ter take 'em 'way, " returned thecorn-cracker, with the utmost coolness. 

"Two of my niggers!" exclaimed the Colonel, perceptibly moderating histone--"which ones?"

"A yaller gal, and a chile. "

"I thank you, Barnes; excuse my hard words--I was excited. "

"All right, Cunnel; say no more 'bout thet. Will ye send fur 'em? I'dhev fotched 'em 'long, but my waggin's off jest now. "

"Yes, I'll send at once. Have you got them safe?"

"Safe? I reckon so! Kotched 'em last night, arter dark, and they've keptright still ever sense, I 'sure ye--but th' gal holds on ter th' young'un ter kill--we cudn't get it 'way no how. "

"How did you catch them?"

"They got 'gainst my turpentime raft--the curren' driv 'em down, Is'pose. "

"What! are they dead?"

"Dead? deader'n drownded rats!" replied the native, "My God! drowned herself and her child!" exclaimed the Colonel, withdeep emotion. 

"It is terrible, my friend. Come, let us go to them, at once, " I said, laying my hand on his arm, and drawing him unresistingly away. 

A pair of mules was speedily harnessed to a large turpentine wagon, andthe horses we had ridden the day before were soon at the door. When theColonel, who had been closeted for a few minutes with Madam P----, cameout of the house, we mounted, and rode off with the "corn-cracker. "

The native's farm was located on the stream which watered my friend'splantation, and was about ten miles distant. Taking a by-road which ledto it through the woods, we rode rapidly on in advance of the wagon. 

"Sort o' likely gal, thet, warn't she?" remarked the turpentine-maker, after a while. 

"Yes, she was, " replied the Colonel, in a half-abstracted manner;"_very_ likely. "

"Kill harself 'case har man war shot by thet han'som overseer uvyour'n?"

"Not altogether for that, I reckon, " replied my host; "I fear the mainreason was her being put at field-work, and abused by the driver. "

"Thet comes uv not lookin' arter things yerself, Cunnel. I tend ter myniggers parsonally, and they keer a durned sight more fur this worldthen fur kingdom-cum. Ye cudn't hire 'em ter kill 'emselves fur noprice. "

"Well, " replied the Colonel, in a low tone, "I _did_ look after her. Iput her at full field-work, myself!"

"By----!" cried the native, reining his horse to a dead stop, andspeaking in an excited manner: "I doant b'lieve it--'taint 't all likeye--yer a d----d seceshener; thet comes uv yer bringin'-up--but ye've asoul bigger'n a meetin'-house, and ye cudn't hev put thet slim, weaklygal inter th' woods, no how!"

The Colonel and I instinctively halted our horses, as the "corn-cracker"stopped his, and were then standing abreast of him in the road. 

"It's true, Barnes, " said my host, in a voice that showed deepdejection; "I _did_ do it!"

"May God Almighty furgive ye, Cunnel, " said the native, starting hishorse forward; "_I_ wudn't hev dun it fur all yer niggers, by ----. "

The Colonel made no reply, and we rode on the rest of the way insilence. 

The road was a mere wagon-track through the trees, and it being butlittle travelled, and encumbered with the roots and stumps of the pine, our progress was slow, and we were nearly two hours in reaching theplantation of the native. 

The corn-cracker's house--a low, unpainted wooden building--stood nearthe little stream, and in the centre of a cleared plot of some tenacres. This plot was surrounded by a post-and-rail fence, and in itsfront portion was a garden, which grew a sufficient supply of vegetablesto serve a family of twenty persons. In the rear, and at the sides ofthe dwelling, were about seven acres, devoted mainly to corn andpotatoes. In one corner of the lot were three tidy-looking negro-houses, and close beside them I noticed a low shed, near which a large quantityof the stalks of the tall, white corn, common to that section, wasstacked in the New England fashion. Browsing on the corn-stalks werethree sleek, well-kept milch cows, and a goat. 

About four hundred yards from the farmer's house, and on the bank of thelittle run, which there was quite wide and deep, stood a turpentinedistillery; and around it were scattered a large number of rosin andturpentine barrels, some filled and some empty. A short distance higherup, and far enough from the "still" to be safe in the event of a fire, was a long, low, wooden shed, covered with rough, unjointed boards, placed upright, and unbattened. This was the "spirit-house, " used forthe storage of the spirits of turpentine when barrelled for market, andawaiting shipment. In the creek, and filling nearly one-half of thechannel in front of the spirit-shed, was a raft of pine timber, on whichwere laden some two hundred barrels of rosin. On such rude conveyancesthe turpentine-maker sent his produce to Conwayboro'. There thetimber-raft was sold to my way-side friend, Captain B----, and itsfreight shipped on board vessel for New York. Two "prime" negro men, dressed in the usual costume, were "tending the still;" and a negrowoman, as stout and strong as the men, and clad in a short, loose, linsey gown, from beneath which peeped out a pair of coarse leggins, wasadjusting a long wooden trough, which conveyed the liquid rosin from the"still" to a deep excavation in the earth, at a short distance. In thepit was a quantity of rosin sufficient to fill a thousand barrels. 

"Here, Bill, " said Barnes to one of the negro men, as we pulled up atthe distillery, "put these critters up, and give 'em sum oats, and whenthey've cooled off a bit, water 'em. "

"Yas, yas, massa, " replied the negro, springing nimbly forward, andtaking the horses by the bridles, "an' rub 'em down, massa?"

"Yas, rub 'em down right smart, " replied the corn-cracker; then turningto me, as we dismounted, he said: "Stranger, thet's th' sort o' niggersfur ye; all uv mine ar' jess like him--smart and lively as kittens. "

"He does seem to go about his work cheerfully, " I replied. 

"Cheerfully! d----d ef he doant--all on 'em du! They like me better'nthar own young 'uns, an' it's 'cause I use 'em like human bein's;" andhe looked slyly toward the Colonel, who just then was walking silentlyaway, in the direction of the run, as if in search of the browned"chattels. "

"Not thar, Cunnel, " cried the native; "they're inter th' shed;" and hestarted to lead the way to the "spirit-house. "

"Not now, Barnes, " I said, putting my hand on his arm: "leave him alonefor a little while. He is feeling badly, and we'd better not disturb himjust yet. "

The native motioned me to a seat on a rosin-barrel, as he replied:

"Wal, he 'pears ter--thet's a fact, and he orter. D----d ef it arn'twicked to use niggers like cattle, as he do. "

"I don't think he means to ill-treat them--he's a kind-hearted man. "

"Wal, he ar sort o' so; but he's left ev'ry thing ter thet d----doverseer uv his'n. I wudn't ha' trusted him to feed my hogs. "

"Hogs!" I exclaimed, laughing; "I supposed you didn't _feed_ hogs inthese diggins. I supposed you 'let 'em run. '"

"_I_ doant; an' I've got th' tallest porkys round har. "

"I've been told that they get a good living in the woods. "

"Wal, p'r'aps the' du jest make eout ter live thar; but my ole 'omanlikes 'em ter hum--they clean up a place like--eat up all th' leavin's, an' give th' young nigs suthin' ter du. "

"It seems to me, " I said, resuming the previous thread of theconversation; "that overseers are a necessity on a large plantation. ""Wal, the' ar', an' thet's why thar ortent ter be no big plantations;God Almighty didn't make human bein's ter be herded togethar in th'woods like hogs. No man orter ter hev more'n twenty on 'em--he can'tlook arter no more himself, an' its agin natur ter set a feller over 'emwhat hain't no int'rest in 'em, an' no feelin' fur 'em, an' who'll drive'em round like brutes. I never struck one on 'em in my life, an' my tendu more'n ony fifteen th' Cunnel's got. "

"I thought they needed occasional correction. How do you manage themwithout whipping?"

"Manage them! why 'cordin' ter scriptur--do ter 'em as I'd like ter bedun ter, ef I war a nigger. Every one on 'em knows I'd part with my lastshirt, an' live on taters an' cow-fodder, fore I'd sell em; an' then Igive 'em Saturdays for 'emselfs--but thet's cute dealin' in me (tho' th'pore, simple souls doant see it), fur ye knows the' work thet day for'emselfs, an' raise nigh all thar own feed, 'cept th' beef andwhiskey--an' it sort o' makes 'em feel like folks, too, more like as efthe' war _free_--the' work th' better fur it all th' week. "

"Then you think the blacks would work better if free?"

"In _course_ I does--its agin man's natur to be a slave. Thet lousyparson ye herd ter meetin, a Sunday, makes slavery eout a divineinstitooshun, but my wife's a Bible 'oman, and she says 'taint so; an'I'm d----d ef she arn't right. "

"Is your wife a South Carolina women?"

"No, she an' me's from th' old North--old Car'tret, nigh on ter Newbern;an' we doant take nat'rally to these fire-eaters. "

"Have you been here long?"

"Wal, nigh on ter six yar. I cum har with nuthin' but a thousan' ter myback--slapped thet inter fifteen hun'red acres--paid it down--and thenhired ten likely, North Car'lina niggers--hired 'em with th' chance uvbuyin' ef the' liked eout har. Wal, th' nigs all know'd me, and the'sprung ter it like blazes; so every yar I've managed ter buy two on 'em, and now I've ten grow'd up, and thar young'uns; th' still and all th'traps paid fur, an' ef this d----d secesh bis'ness hadn't a come 'long, I'd hev hed a right smart chance o' doin' well. "

"I'm satisfied secession will ruin the turpentine business; you'll beshut up here, unable to sell your produce, and it will go to waste. "

"Thet's my 'pinion; but I reckon I kin' manage now witheout turpentime. I've talked it over 'long with my nigs, and we kalkerlate, ef these ardoin's go eny furder, ter tap no more trees, but clar land an' go terraisin' craps. "

"What! do you talk politics with your negroes?"

"Nary a politic--but I'm d----d ef th' critters doan't larn 'em sumhow;the' knows 'bout as much uv what's goin' on as I du--but plantin arn'tpolitics; its bisness, an' they've more int'rest in it nor I hev, 'causethey've sixteen mouths ter feed agin my four. "

"I'm glad, my friend, that you treat them like men: but I have supposedthey were not well enough informed to have intelligent opinions on suchsubjects. "

"Informed! wal, I reckon the' is; all uv mine kin read, an' sum on 'emkin write, too. D'ye see thet little nig thar?" pointing to a juvenilecoal-black darky of about six years, who was standing before the "still"fire; "thet ar little devil kin read an' speak like a parson. He's gothold, sumhow, uv my little gal's book o' pieces, an' larned a dozen on'em. I make him cum inter th' house, once in a while uv an evenin', an'speechify, an' 'twould do yer soul good ter har him, in his shirt tail, with a old sheet wound round him fur a toger (I've told him th'play-acters du it so down ter Charles'on), an' spoutin' out: 'My name amNorval; on de Gruntin' hills my fader feed him hogs!' The little coonnever seed a sheep, an' my wife's told him a flock's a herd, an' hethinks 'hog' _sounds_ better'n 'flock, ' so, contra'y ter th' book, heputs in 'hogs, ' and hogs, you knows, hev ter grunt, so he gits 'em onth' 'Gruntin hills;" and here the kind-hearted native burst into a fitof uproarious laughter, in which, in spite of myself, I had to join. 

When the merriment had somewhat subsided, the turpentine-maker calledout to the little darky:

"Come here, Jim. "

The young chattel ran to him with alacrity, and wedging in between hislegs, placed his little black hands, in a free-and-easy way, on hismaster's knees, and, looking up trustfully in his face, said:

"Wal, massa?"

"What's yer name?"

"Dandy Jim, massa. "

"Thet arn't all--what's th' rest?"

"Dandy Jim of ole Car'lina. "

"Who made ye?"

"De good God, massa. "

"No, He didn't: God doant make little nigs. He makes none but whitefolks;" said the master, laughing. 

"Yas He'm do; Missus say He'm do; dat He make dis nig jess like He donelittle Totty. "

"Wal, He did, Jim. I'm d----d ef _He_ didn't, fur nobody else cud make_ye_!" replied the man, patting the little woolly head with undisguisedaffection. 

"Now, Jim, say th' creed fur 'de gemman. '"

The young darky then repeated the Apostle's Creed and the TenCommandments. 

"Is thet all ye knows?"

"No, massa, I knows a heap 'sides dat. "

"Wal, say suthin' more--sum on 'em pieces thet jingle. "

The little fellow then repeated with entire correctness, and withappropriate gestures, and emphasis, though in the genuine darkydialect--which seems to be inborn with the pure-Southern black--Mrs. Hemans' poem:

"The boy stood on the burning deck. "

"Mrs. Hemans draped in black!" I exclaimed, laughing heartily: "Howwould the good lady feel, could she look down from where she is, andhear a little darky doing up her poetry in that style?"

"D----d ef I doant b'lieve 'twud make her love th' little nig like Ido;" replied the corn-cracker, taking him up on his knee as tenderly ashe would have taken up his own child. 

"Tell me, my little man, " I said: "who taught you all these things?"

"I larned 'em, myseff, sar, " was the prompt reply. 

"You learned them, yourself! but who taught you to read?"

"I larned 'em myseff, sar!"

"You couldn't have learned _that_ yourself; didn't your 'massa' teachyou?"

"No, sar. "

"Oh! your 'missus' did. "

"No, sar. "

"No, sar!" I repeated; then suspecting the real state of the case, Ilooked him sternly in the eye, and said: "My little man, it's wrong totell lies--you must _always_ speak the truth; now, tell me truly, didnot your 'missus' teach you these things?"

"No, sar, I larned 'em myseff. "

"Ye can't cum it, Stranger; ye moight roast him over a slow fire, an'not git nary a thing eout on him but thet, " said the corn-cracker, leaning forward, and breaking into a boisterous fit of laughter. "It'sagin th' law, an' I'm d----d ef I teached him. Reckon he _did_ larnhimself!"

"I must know your wife, my friend. She's a good woman. "

"Good! ye kin bet high on thet; she's uv th' stuff th' Lord makes angelseout on. "

I had no doubt of it, and was about to say so, when the Colonel'sturpentine wagon drove up, and I remembered I had left him too longalone. 

The coachman was driving, and Jim sat on the wagon beside him. 

"Massa K----, " said the latter, getting down and coming to me: "Whar amdey?"

"In the spirit-shed. "

He was turning to go there, when I called him back, saying: "Jim, youmust not see your master now; you'd better keep out of sight for thepresent. "

"No, massa; de ma'am say de Cunnel take dis bery hard, and dat I ortertell him I'se sorry for what I'se done. "

"Well, wait a while. Let me go in first. "

Accompanied by the corn-cracker, I entered the turpentine-shed. A row ofspirit-barrels were ranged along each of its sides, and two tiersoccupied the centre of the building. On these a number of loose plankswere placed, and on the planks lay the bodies of the metif woman and herchild. The Colonel was seated on a barrel near them, with his headresting on his hands, and his eyes fixed on the ground. He did not seemto notice our entrance, and, passing him without speaking, I stepped tothe side of the dead. 

The woman's dress, the common linsey gown worn by her class, was stillwet, and her short, kinky, brown hair fell in matted folds around herface. One arm hung loosely by her side; the other was clasped tightlyaround her child, which lay as if asleep on her bosom. One of its smallhands clung to its mother's breast, and around its little lips played asmile. But how shall I describe the pale, sweet beauty of the face ofthe drowned girl, as she lay there, her eyes closed, and her lipsparted, as in prayer? Never but once have I seen on human features thestrange radiance that shone upon it, or the mingled expression of hope, and peace, and resignation that rested there--and that was in thelong-gone time, when, standing by her bedside, I watched the passingaway of one who is now an angel in heaven!

"Come, my dear friend, let us go, " I said, turning and gently taking theColonel by the arm, "the negroes are here, and will take charge of thedead. "

"No, no!" he replied, rising, and looking around, as if aroused from atroubled dream; "that is for _me_ to do!" Then he added, after amoment's pause, "Will you help me to get them into the wagon?"

"Yes, I will, certainly. "

He made one step toward the body of the dead girl, then sinking downagain on the barrel, covered his face with his hands, and cried out: "MyGod! this is terrible! Did you ever see such a look as that? It willhaunt me forever!"

"Come, my friend, rouse yourself--this is weakness; you are tired withthe long ride and excitement of the past few days. Come, go home--I willlook after them. "

"No, no! I must do it. I will be a man again;" and he rose and walkedsteadily to the dead bodies. "Is there any one here to help?" he asked. 

Jim was standing in the door-way, and I motioned to him to come forward. The great tears were streaming down his face as he stepped timidlytowards his master, and said: "I'll do dis, massa, don't you trubbleyerself no more. "

"It's good of you, Jim. You'll forgive me for being so cruel to you, wont you?" said the Colonel, taking the black by the hand. 

"Forgib ye, massa! _I_ war all ter blame--but ye'll forgib me, massa--ye'll forgib me!" cried the black, with strong emotion. 

"Yes, yes; but say no more about it. Come, let us get Julie home. "

But the poor girl was already _home_--home where her sufferings and hersorrows were over, and all her tears were wiped away forever!

We four bore away the mother and the child. A number of blankets were inthe bottom of the wagon, and we laid the bodies carefully upon them. When all seemed ready, the Colonel, who was still standing by the sideof the dead, turned to my new friend, and said: "Barnes, will you loanme a pillow? I will send it back to-night. "

"Sartin, Cunnel;" and the farmer soon brought one from the house. Lifting tenderly the head of the drowned girl, the Colonel placed itbeneath her, and smoothing back her tangled hair, he gently covered herface with his handkerchief, as if she could still feel his kindness, orlonger cared for the pity or the love of mortal. Yet, who knows but thather parted soul, from the high realm to which it had soared, may notthen have looked down, have seen that act, and have forgiven him!

CHAPTER XVII. 

THE SMALL PLANTER. 

In the first moments of grief the sympathy of friends, and the words ofconsolation bring no relief. How much more harshly do such words grateon the ear when the soul is bowed down by remorse and unavailing regret!Then the wounded spirit finds peace nowhere but with God. 

I saw that the Colonel would be alone, and turning to him, as heprepared to follow the strange vehicle, which, with its load of death, was already jolting its way over the rough forest road, I said, "Will you pardon me, if I remain with your friend here for awhile? Iwill be at the mansion before dark. "

"Oh, certainly, my friend, come when you feel disposed, " he replied, andmounting his horse he was soon out of sight among the trees. 

"Now, Barnes, " I said, shaking off the gloomy feelings that hadoppressed me: "come, I must see that wife of yours, and get a glimpse ofhow you live?"

"Sartin, stranger; come in; I'll give ye th' tallest dinner my 'oman canscare up, an' she's sum pumkins in th' cookin' line;" and he led the wayto the farm-house. 

As I turned to follow, I slipped a half-dollar into the hand of thedarky who was holding my horse, and asked him to put her again into thestable. 

"I'll do dat, sar, but I karn't take dis; masaa doant 'low it nohow;" hereplied, tendering me back the money. 

"Barnes, your negroes have strange ways; I never met one before who'drefuse money. "

"Wal, stranger, 'taint hosspetality to take money on yer friends, andBill gets all he wants from me. "

I took the silver and gave it to the first darky I met, who happened tobe an old centenarian belonging to the Colonel. As I tossed it to him, he grinned out: "Ah, massa, I'll git sum 'backer wid dis; 'pears like Ihadn't nary a chaw in forty yar. " With more than one leg in the gravethe old negro had not lost his appetite for the weed--in fact, that andwhiskey are the only "luxuries" ever known to the plantation black. 

As we went nearer, I took a closer survey of the farm-house. It was, asI have said, a low, unpainted wooden building, located in the middle ofa ten acre lot. It was approached by a straight walk, paved with amixture of sand and tar, similar to that which the reader may have seenin the Champs Elysees. I do not know whether my back-woods friend, orthe Parisian pavior, was the first inventor of this composition, but Iam satisfied the corn-cracker had not stolen it from the stone-cracker. The walk was lined with fruit-bearing shrubs, and directly in front ofthe house, were two small flower-beds. 

The dwelling itself, though of a dingy brown wood-color, was neat andinviting. It may have been forty feet square on the ground, and was onlya story and a half high, but a projecting roof, and a frontdormer-window, relieved it from the appearance of disproportion. Itsgable ends were surmounted by two enormous brick chimneys, carried up onthe outside, in the fashion of the South, and its high, broad windowswere ornamented with Venetian blinds. Its front door opened directlyinto the "living-room, " and at the threshold we met its mistress. 

As the image of that lady has still a warm place in a pleasant corner ofmy memory, I will describe her. She was about thirty years of age, andhad a fresh, cheerful face. To say that she was handsome, would not bestrictly true; though she had that pleasant, gentle, kindly expressionthat sometimes makes even a homely person seem beautiful. But she wasnot homely. Her features were regular, her hair, glossy and brown, andher eyes, black and brilliant, and, for their color, the mildest andsoftest I had ever seen. Her figure was tall, and in its outlinesomewhat sharp and angular, but she had an ease and grace about her thatmade one forget she was not moulded as softly and roundly as others. Sheseemed just the woman on whose bosom a tired, worn, over-burdened manmight lay his weary head, and find rest and forgetfulness. 

She wore a neat calico dress, fitting closely to the neck, and an apronof spotless white muslin. A little lace cap perched cosily on the backof her head, hiding a portion of her wavy, dark hair, and on her feet--amiracle, reader, in one of her class--were stockings and shoes! Givingme her hand--which, at the risk of making her husband jealous, I heldfor a moment--she said, making a gentle courtesy:

"Ye ar welcome, stranger. "

"I sincerely thank you, madam; I _am_ a stranger in these parts. "

She tendered me a chair, while her husband opened a sideboard, andbrought forth a box of Havanas, and a decanter of Scuppernong. As I tookthe proffered seat, he offered me the refreshments. I drank the lady'shealth in the wine, but declined the cigars. Seeing this, she remarked:

"Yer from th' North, sir; arn't ye?"

"Yes, madam, I live in New York, but I was born in New-England. "

"I reckoned so; I knew ye didn't belong in Car'lina. "

"How did you know that, madam?" I asked, laughing. 

"I seed ye doan't smoke 'fore wimmin. But ye musn't mind me; I sort o'likes it; its a great comfut to John, and may be it ar to ye. "

"Well, I do relish a good cigar, but I never smoke before any ladyexcept my wife, and though she's only 'a little lower than the angels, 'she _does_, once in awhile, say it's a shame to make the _house_ smelllike a tobacco factory. "

Barnes handed me the box again, and I took one. As I was lighting it, hesaid:

"Ye've got a good 'oman, hev ye?"

"There's none better; at least, I think so. "

"Wal, I'm 'zactly uv thet 'pinion 'bout mine: I wouldn't trade her furall this worle, an' th' best half uv 'tother. "

"Don't ye talk so, John, " said the lady; then addressing me, she added:"It's a good husband thet makes a good wife, sir. "

"Sometimes, madam, but not always. I've known some of the best of wiveswho had miserable husbands. "

"An' I'm d----d ef I made my wife th' 'oman she ar', " said thecorn-cracker. 

"Hush, John; ye musn't sw'ar so; ye knows how often ye've said yewouldn't. "

"Wal, I du, an' I wont agin, by ----. But Sukey, whar's th' young 'uns?"

"Out in the lot, I reckon; but ye musn't holler'm in--they'r all dirt. "

"No matter for that, madam, " I said; "dirt is healthy for little ones;rolling in the mud makes them grow. "

"Then our'n orter grow right smart, fur they'r in it allers. "

"How many have you, madam?"

"Two; a little boy, four, and a little gal, six. "

"They're of interesting ages. "

"Yas, the' is int'restin'; ev'ry 'uns own chil'ren is smart; but the'does know a heap. John was off ter Charl'ston no great while back, an'the little boy used ter pray ev'ry mornin' an' ev'nin' fur his fader tercum hum. I larned 'em thet jest so soon as the' talked, 'cause thar's notellin' how quick the' moight be tooken 'way. Wal, the little fellerprayed ev'ry mornin' an' ev'nin' fur his fader ter cum back; an' Johndidn't cum; so finarly he got sort o' provoked with th' Lord; an' hesaid God war aither deaf, an' couldn't har, or he war naughty, an'wouldn't tell fader thet little Johnny wanted to seed 'im 'werrymooch'"--and here the good lady laughed pleasantly, and I joined in mostheartily. 

Blessed are the children that have such a mother. 

Soon the husband returned with the little girl and boy, and four youngebonies, all bare-headed, and dressed alike, in thick trousers, and aloose linsey shirt. Among them was my new acquaintance, "Dandy Jim, ofole Car'lina. "

The little girl came to me, and soon I had two white children on oneknee, and two black on the other, and Dandy Jim between my legs, playingwith my watch-chain. The family made no distinction between the colors, and as the children were all equally clean I did not see why _I_ shoulddo so. 

The lady renewed the conversation by remarking; "P'raps ye reckon it'squar, sir, that we 'low our'n to 'sociate 'long with th' black chil'ren;but we karn't help it. On big plantations it works sorry bad, fur th'white young 'ons larn all manner of evil from the black 'uns; but I'velaboored ter teach our'n so one wont do no harm ter 'tother. "

"I suppose, madam, that is one of the greatest evils of slavery. The lowblack poisons the mind of the white child, and the bad influence laststhrough life. "

"Yas, it's so, stranger; an' it's the biggest keer I hev. It often'pears strange ter me thet our grow'd up men arn't no wuss then the'is. "

In those few words that unlettered woman had said, what would--if menwere but wise enough to hear and heed the great truth which shespoke--banish slavery from this continent forever!

After awhile the farmer told the juvenile delineator of Mrs. Hemans, andthe other poets, to give us a song; and planting himself in the middleof the floor, the little darky sang "Dixie, " and several other negrosongs, which his master had taught him, but into which he had introducedsome amusing variations of his own. The other children joined in thechoruses; and then Jim danced breakdowns, "walk-along-Joes, " and otherdarky dances, his master accompanying him on a cracked fiddle, till mysides were sore with laughter, and the hostess begged them to stop. Finally the clock struck twelve, and the farmer, going to the door, gavea long, loud blast on a cow's horn. In about five minutes one afteranother of the field hands came in, till the whole ten had seatedthemselves on the verandah. Each carried a bowl, a tin-cup, or a gourd, into which my host--who soon emerged from a back room[J] with a pail ofwhiskey in his hand--poured a gill of the beverage. This was the day'sallowance, and the farmer, in answer to a question of mine, told me hethought negroes were healthier, and worked better for a small quantityof alcohol daily. "The' work hard, and salt feed doant set 'em up'nough, " was his remark. 

Meanwhile the hostess busied herself with preparations for dinner, andit was soon spread on a bright cherry table, covered by a spotless whitecloth. The little darkies had scattered to the several cabins, and wesoon sat down to as good a meal as I ever ate at the South. 

We were waited on by a tidy negro woman, neatly clad in a calico gown, with shoes on her feet, and a flaming red and yellow 'kerchief on herhead. This last was worn in the form of a turban, and one end escapingfrom behind, and hanging down her back, it looked for all the world likea flag hung out from a top turret. Observing it, my host said:

"Aggy--showin' yer colors? Ye'r Union gal--hey?"

"Yas, I is dat, massa; Union ter de back bone;" responded the negress, grinning widely. 

"All th' Union _ye_ knows on, " replied the master, winking slyly at me, "is th' union yer goin' ter hitch up 'long with black Cale over terSquire Taylor's. "

"No, 'taint, massa; takes more'n tu ter make de Union. "

"Yas, I knows--it gin'rally takes ten or a dozen: reckon it'll take adozen with ye. "

"John, ye musn't talk so ter th' sarvents; it spiles 'em, " said hiswife. 

"No it doant--do it, Aggy?"

"Lor', missus, I doant keer what massa say; but I doant leff no oder manrun on so ter me!"

"No more'n ye doant, gal! only Cale. "

"Nor him, massa; I makes him stan' roun' _I_ reckon. "

"I reckon ye du; ye wudn't be yer massa's gal ef ye didn't. "

When the meal was over, I visited, with my host, the negro houses. Thehour allowed for dinner[K] was about expiring, and the darkies werepreparing to return to the field. Entering one of the cabins, where weretwo stout negro men and a woman, my host said to them, with a perfectlyserious face:

"Har, boys, I've fotched ye a live Yankee ab'lishener; now, luk at 'imall roun'. Did ye ever see sech a critter?"

"Doant see nuffin' quar in dat gemman, massa, " replied one of theblacks. "Him 'pears like bery nice gemman; doant 'pear likeab'lishener;" and he laughed, and scraped his head in the mannerpeculiar to the negro, as he added: "kinder reckon he wudn't be har efhe war one of _dem_. "

"What der _ye_ knows 'bout th' ab'lisheners? Ye never seed one--whatd'ye 'spose the' luk like?"

"Dey say dey luk likes de bery ole debil, massa, but reckon taint so. "

"Wal, the' doant; the' luk wusa then thet: they'm bottled up thunder an'lightnin', an' ef the' cum down har, they'll chaw ye all ter hash. "

"I reckon!" replied the darky, manipulating his wool, and distending hisface into a decidedly incredulous grin. 

"What do you tell them such things for?" I asked, good-humoredly. 

"Lor, bless ye, stranger, the' knows th' ab'lisheners ar thar friends, jest so well as ye du; and so fur as thet goes, d----d ef the' doan'tknow I'm one on 'em myseff, fur I tells 'em, ef the' want to put, the'kin put, an' I'll throw thar trav'lin 'spences inter th' bargin. Doan'tI tell ye thet, Lazarus. "

"Yas, massa, but none ob massa's nigs am gwine ter put--lesswise, not solong as you an' de good missus, am 'bove groun'. "

The darky's name struck me as peculiar, and I asked him where he got it. 

"_'Tain't_ my name, sar; but you see, sar, w'en massa fuss hire me obole Capt'in ----, up dar ter Newbern-way, I war sort o' sorrylike--hadn't no bery good cloes--an' massa, he den call me Lazarus, 'case he say I war all ober rags and holes, an' it hab sort o' stuck terme eber sense. I war a'mighty bad off 'fore dat, but w'en I cum down harI gets inter Abr'am's buzzum, I does;" and here the darky actuallyreeled on his seat with laughter. 

"Is this woman your wife?" I asked. 

"No, sar; my wife 'longs to Cunnel J----; dat am my new wife--my olewife am up dar whar I cum from!"

"What! have you two wives?"

"Yas, massa, I'se two. "

"But that's contrary to Scripture. "

"No, sar; de Cunnel say 'tain't. He say in Scriptur' dey hab a heap ob''em, and dat niggers kin hab jess so many as dey likes--a hun'red ef deywant ter. "

"Does the Colonel teach that to his negroes?" I asked, turning to thenative. 

"Yas, I reckon he do--an' sits 'em th' 'zample, too, " he replied, laughing; "but th' old sinner knows better'n thet; he kin read. "

"Do you find that in the Bible, Lazarus?"

"Yas, massa; whar I reads it. Dat's whar it tell 'bout David and Sol'monand all dem--dey hab a heap ob wives. A pore ole darky karn't hab'nuffin 'sides dem, an' he _orter_ be 'low'd jess so many as he likes. "

Laughing at the reasoning of the negro, I asked:

"How would _you_ like it, if your wife over at Colonel J----'s, had asmany husbands as _she_ liked?"

"Wal, I couldn't fine no fault, massa: an' I s'pose she do; dough Idoan't knows it, 'case I'se dar only Sundays. "

"Have you any children?"

"Yas, sar; I'se free 'longin' ter de Cunnel, an' four or five--I doant'zactly know--up ter hum; but _dey'se_ grow'd up. "

"Is your wife, up there, married again?"

"Yas, massa, she got anoder man jess w'en I cum 'way; har ole massa makehar do it. "

We then left the cabin, and when out of hearing of the blacks, I said tothe corn-cracker: "That _may be_ Scripture doctrine, but _I_ have notbeen taught so!"

"Scriptur or no Scriptur, stranger, it's d----d heathenism, " repliedthe farmer, who, take him all in all, is a superior specimen of theclass of small-planters at the South; and yet, seeing polygamy practisedby his own slaves, he made no effort to prevent it. He told me that ifhe should object to his darky cohabiting with the Colonel's negress, itwould be regarded as unneighborly, and secure him the enmity of thewhole district! And still we are told that slavery is a _Divine_institution!

After this, we strolled off into the woods, where the hands were atwork. They were all stout, healthy and happy-looking, and in answer tomy comments on their appearance, the native said that the negroes on theturpentine farms are always stronger and longer-lived, than those on therice and cotton-fields. Unless carried off by the fevers incident to theclimate, they generally reach a good old age, while the rice-negroseldom lives to be over forty, and the cotton-slave very rarely attainssixty. Cotton-growing, however, my host thought, is not, in itself, muchmore unhealthy than turpentine-gathering, though cotton-hands work inthe sun, while the turpentine slaves labor altogether in the shade. "But, " he said, "the' work 'em harder nor we does, an' doan't feed 'emso well. We give our'n meat and whiskey ev'ry day, but them articles isskarse 'mong th' cotton blacks, an' th' rice niggers never get 'emexcep' ter Chris'mas time, an' thet cums but onst a yar. "

"Do you think the white could labor as well as the black, on the riceand cotton-fields?" I asked. 

"Yas, an' better--better onywhar; but, in coorse, 'tain't natur' furblack nor white ter stand long a workin' in th' mud and water up terthar knees; sech work wud kill off th' very devil arter a while. But th'white kin stand it longer nor the black, and its' 'cordin' ter reasonthat he shud; fur, I reckon, stranger, that the sperit and pluck uv aman hev a durned sight ter du with work. They'll hole a man up when he'sclean down, an' how kin we expec' thet the pore nig', who's nary a thingter work fur, an' who's been kept under an' 'bused ever sense Adam was ayoung un'--how kin we expec' he'll work like men thet own 'emselfs, an'whose faders hev been free ever sense creation? I reckon that theparient has a heap ter du with makin' th' chile. He puts the speritinter 'im: doan't we see it in hosses an' critters an' sech like? Itmayn't crap eout ter onst, but it's shore ter in th' long run, andthet's th' why th' black hain't no smarter nor he is. He's been a-grounddown an' kept under fur so long thet it'll take more'n 'un gin'rationter bring him up. 'Tain't his fault thet he's no more sperit, an'p'raps 'tain't ourn--thet is, them on us as uses 'em right--but it warthe fault uv yer fader an' mine--yer fader stole 'em, and mine bought'em, an' the' both made cattle uv 'em. "

"But I had supposed the black was better fitted by nature for hardlabor, in a hot climate, than the white?"

"Wal, he arn't, an' I knows it. Th' d----d parsons an' pol'tishuns saythet, but 'tain't so. I kin do half agin more work in a day then th'best nig' I've got, an' I've dun it, tu, time an' agin, an' it didn'thurt me nuther. Ye knows ef a man hev a wife and young 'uns 'pendin' onhim, an' arn't much 'forehanded, he'll work like th' devil. I've dun it, and ye hev ef ye war ever put ter it; but th' nig's, why the' hain't gotno wives and young 'uns ter work fur--the law doan't 'low 'em ter hevany--the' hain't nary a thing but thar carcasses, an' them's tharmasters'. "

"You say a man works better for being free; then you must think 'twouldbe well to free the negroes?"

"In coorse, I does. Jest luk at them nig's o' mine; they're ter all'tents an' purposes free, 'case I use 'em like men, an' the' knows the'kin go whenever the' d----d please. See how the' work--why, one on 'emdoes half as much agin as ony hard-driv' nigger in creation. "

"What would you do with them, if they were _really_ free?"

"Du with 'em? why, hire 'em, an' make twice as much eout on 'em as Idoes now. "

"But I don't think the two races were meant to live together. "

"No more'n the' warn't. But 'tain't thar fault thet they's har. Wehain't no right ter send 'em off. We orter stand by our'n an' ourfaders' doin's. The nig' keers more fur his hum, so durned pore as itar', then ye or I does fur our'n. I'd pack sech off ter Libraria or th'devil, as wanted ter go, but I'd hev no 'pulsion 'bout it. "

"Why, my good friend, you're half-brother to Garrison. You don't talk toyour neighbors in this way?"

"Wal; I doan't;" he replied, laughing. "Ef I dun it, they'd treat me toa coat uv tar, and ride me out uv th' deestrict raather sudden, Ireckon; but yer a Nuthener, an' the' all take nat'rally ter freedum, excep' th' d----d dough-faces, an' ye aren't one on 'em, I'll swar. "

"Well, I'm not. Do many of your neighbors think as you do?"

"Reckon not many round har; but op in Cart'ret, whar I cum from, heapson 'em do, though the' darn't say so. "

By this time we had reached the still, and, directing his attention tothe enormous quantity of rosin that had been run into the pit which Ihave spoken of, I asked him why he threw so much valuable material away. 

"Wal, 'tain't wuth nothin' har. Thet's th' common, an' it won't bring inYork, now, more'n a dollar forty-five. It costs a dollar an' two bitster get it thar, and pay fur sellin' on it, an' th' barr'l's wuth th'diff'rence. I doan't ship nuthin wuss nor No. 2. "

"What is No. 2?"

He took the head from one of the barrels, and with an adze cut out asmall piece, then handing me the specimen, replied:

"Now hole thet up ter th' sun. Ye'll see though its yaller, it's cleanand clar. Thet's good No. 2, what brings now two dollars and two bits, in York, an' pays me 'bout a dollar a barr'l, its got eout o' second yardip, an' as it comes eout uv th' still, is run through thet arstrainer, " pointing to a coarse wire seive that lay near. "Th' commonrosum, thet th' still's runnin' on now, is made eout on th' yallerdip--thet's th' kine o' turpentine thet runs from th' tree arter twoyars' tappin'--we call it yallar dip ca'se it's allers dark. We doantstrain common 't all, an' it's full uv chips and dirt. It's low now, butef it shud ever git up, I'd tap thet ar' heap, barr'l it up, run alittle fresh stilled inter it, an' 'twould be a'most so good as new. "

"Then it is injured by being in the ground. "

"Not much; it's jest as good fur ev'rything but makin' ile, puttin it inthe 'arth sort o' takes th' sap eout on it, an' th' sap's th' ile. Natur' sucks thet eout, I s'pose, ter make th' trees grow--I expec' mybones 'ill fodder 'em one on these days. "

"Rosin is put to very many uses?"

"Yes, but common's used mainly for ile and soap, th' Yankees put itinter hard yaller soap, 'case it makes it weigh, an' yer folks is upter them doin's, " and he looked at me and gave a sly laugh. I could notdeny the "hard" impeachment, and said nothing. Taking a specimen of veryclear light-colored rosin from a shelf in the still-house, I asked himwhat that quality was worth. 

"Thet ar brought seven dollars, for two hundred an' eighty pounds, inYork, airly this yar. It's th' very best No. 1; an' its hard ter make, 'case ef th' still gets overhet it turns it a tinge. Thet sort is runthrough two sieves, the coarse 'un, an' thet ar, " pointing to anotherwire strainer, the meshes of which were as fine as those of the floursieve used by housewives. 

"Do your seven field hands produce enough 'dip' to keep your still arunning?"

"No, I buys th' rest uv my naboors who haint no stills; an' th' Cunnel'sdown on me 'case I pay 'em more'n he will; but I go on Franklin'sprincerpel: 'a nimble sixpence's better'n a slow shillin. ' A great olefeller thet, warn't he? I've got his life. "

"And you practice on his precepts; that's the reason you've got on sowell. "

"Yas, thet, an' hard knocks. The best o' doctrin's am't wuth a d----nef ye doan't work on 'em. "

"That is true. "

We shortly afterward went to the house, and there I passed several hoursin conversation with my new friend and his excellent wife. The lady, after a while, showed me over the building. It was well-built, well-arranged, and had many conveniences I did not expect to find in aback-woods dwelling. She told me its timbers and covering were ofwell-seasoned yellow pine--which will last for centuries--and that itwas built by a Yankee carpenter, whom they had "'ported" fromCharleston, paying his fare, and giving him his living, and two dollarsand a half a day. It had cost as near as she "cud reckon, 'bout twothousan' dollars. "

It was five o'clock, when, shaking them warmly by the hand, I bade mypleasant friends "good-bye, " and mounting my horse rode off to theColonel's. 

[Footnote J: The whiskey was kept in a back room, above ground, because thedwelling had no cellar. The fluid was kept safely, under lock and key, and the farmer accounted for that, by saying that his negroes wouldsteal nothing but whiskey. Few country houses at the South have acellar--that apartment deemed so essential by Northern housekeepers. Theintervening space between the ground and the floor is there left open, to allow of a free circulation of air. ]

[Footnote K: No regular dinner-hour is allowed the blacks on mostturpentine plantations. Their food is usually either taken with them tothe woods, or carried there by house servants, at stated times. ]

CHAPTER XVIII. 

THE BURIAL OF "JULE. "

The family were at supper when I returned to the mansion, and, enteringthe room, I took my accustomed place at the table. None present seemeddisposed to conversation. The little that was said was spoken in a low, subdued tone, and no allusion was made to the startling event of theday. At last the octoroon woman asked me if I had met Mrs. Barnes at thefarmer's. 

"Yes, " I replied, "and I was greatly pleased with her. She seems one ofthose rare women who would lend grace to even the lowest station. "

"She _is_ a rare woman; a true, sincere Christian. Every one loves her;but few know all her worth; only those do who have gone to her in sorrowand trial, as--" and her voice trembled, and her eyes moistened--"as Ihave. "

And so that poor, outcast, despised, dishonored woman, scorned andcast-off by all the world, had found one sympathizing, pitying friend. Truly, "He tempers the wind to the shorn lamb. "

When the meal was over, all but Madam P---- retired to the library. Tommy and I fell to reading, but the Colonel shortly rose and continuedpacing up and down the apartment till the clock sounded eight. The ladythen entered, and said to him. 

"The negroes are ready, David; will _you_ go, Mr. K----?"

"I think not, madam, " I replied; "at least not now. "

I continued reading, for a time, when, tiring of the book, I laid itdown, and followed them to the little burial-ground. 

The grave of Sam was open, and the plantation blacks were gatheredaround it. In the centre of the group, and at the head of the rudecoffin, the Colonel was seated, and near him the octoroon woman and herson. The old preacher was speaking. 

"My chil'ren, " he said: "she hab gone ter Him, wid har chile: gone updar, whar dey doan't sorrer no more, whar dey doan't weep no more, wharall tears am wiped from dar eyes foreber. I knows she lay han's onharseff, and dat, my chil'ren, am whot none ob us shud do, 'case we'm deLord's; He put us har, an' he'll take us 'way when we's fru wid ourwork, not afore. We hab no right ter gwo afore. Pore Juley did--butp'raps she cudn't help it. P'raps de great sorrer war so big in harheart, dat she cudn't fine rest nowhar but in de cole, dark riber. P'raps she warn't ter blame--p'raps, " and here his eyes filled: "p'rapsole Pomp war all ter blame, for I tole har, my chil'ren"--he could sayno more, and sinking down on a rude seat, he covered his face, andsobbed audibly. Even the Colonel's strong frame heaved with emotion, andnot a dry eye was near. After a time the old man rose again, and withstreaming eyes, and upturned face, continued:

"Dars One up dar, my chil'ren, dat say: 'Come unter Me, all ye dat am aweary an' a heaby laden, an' I will gib you ress. ' He, de good Lord, Hesay dat; and p'raps Juley hard Him say it, an' dat make har gwo. " Againhis voice failed, and he sank down, weeping and moaning as if his heartwould break. 

A pause followed, when the Colonel rose, and aided by Jim and two otherblacks, with his own hands nailed down the lid, and lowered the rudecoffin into the ground. Then the earth was thrown upon it, and then thelong, low chant which the negroes raise over the dead, mingling now withsobs and moans, and breaking into a strange wild wail, went up among thepines, and floating off on the still night air, echoed through the darkwoods, till it sounded like music from the grave. I have been in thechamber of the dying; I have seen the young and the beautiful laid awayin the earth; but I never felt the solemn awfulness of death, as I did, when, in the stillness and darkness of night, I listened to the wildgrief of that negro group, and saw the bodies of that slave mother andher child, lowered to their everlasting rest by the side of Sam. 

CHAPTER XIX. 

HOMEWARD. 

The morning broke bright and mellow with the rays of the winter sun, which in Carolina lends the warmth of October to the chills of January, when, with my portmanteau strapped, and my thin overcoat on my arm, Igave my last "God bless you" to the octoroon woman, and turned my facetoward home. 

Jim shouted "all ready, " the driver cracked his whip, and we were on ourway to Georgetown. 

The recent rains had hardened the roads, the bridges were repaired, andwe were whirled rapidly forward, and, at one o'clock, reachedBucksville. There we met a cordial welcome, and remained to dinner. Ourhost pressed us to pass the night at his house, but the Colonel hadbusiness with one of his secession friends residing down the road--mywayside acquaintance, Colonel A----, and desired to stay overnight withhim. At three o'clock, bidding a kindly farewell to Captain B---- and hisexcellent family, we were again on our way. 

The sun was just sinking among the western pines, when we turned into abroad avenue, lined with stately old trees, and rode up to the door-wayof the rice-planter. It was a large, square, dingy old house, seated ona gentle knoll, a short half-mile from the river, along whose banksstretched the rice-fields. We entered, and were soon welcomed by itsproprietor. 

He received my friend warmly, and gave me a courteous greeting, remarking, when I mentioned that I was homeward bound, that it was wiseto go. "Things are very unsettled; there's no telling what a day maybring forth; feeling is running very high, and a Northern man, whateverhis principles, is not safe here. By-the-way, " he added, "did you notmeet with some little obstruction at Conwayboro', on your way up?"

"Yes, I did; a person there ordered me back, but when things began tolook serious, Scipio, the negro whom you saw with me, got me out of thehobble. "

"Didn't he tell the gentleman that you were a particular friend of mine, and had met me by appointment at Captain B----'s?" he asked, smiling. 

"I believe he did, sir; but I assure you, _I_ said nothing of the kind, and I think the black should not be blamed, under the circumstances. "

"Oh, no; I don't blame him. I think he did a smart thing. He might havesaid you were my grandmother, if it would have served you, for that lowfellow is as fractious as the devil, and dead sure on the trigger. "

"You are very good, sir, " I replied: "how did you hear of it?"

"A day or two afterward, B---- passed here on his way to Georgetown. Ihad been riding out, and happened to be at the head of my avenue whenhe was going by. He stopped, and asked if I knew you. Not knowing, then, the circumstances, I said that I had met you casually at Bucksville, buthad no particular acquaintance with you. He rode on, saying nothingfurther. The next morning, I had occasion to go to Georgetown, and atMr. Fraser's office, accidentally heard that Scip--who is well-known anduniversally liked there--was to have a public whipping that evening. Something prompted me to inquire into it, and I was told that he hadbeen charged by B---- with shielding a well-known abolitionist atConwayboro'--a man who was going through the up-country, distributingsuch damnable publications as the New York _Independent_ and _Tribune_. I knew, of course, it referred to you, and that it wasn't true. I wentto Scip and got the facts, and by stretching the truth a little, finallygot him off. There was a slight discrepancy between my two accounts ofyou" (and here he laughed heartily), "and B----, when we were before theJustice, remarked on it, and came d----d near calling me a liar. It waslucky he didn't, for if he had, he'd have gone to h--l before the placewas hot enough for him. "

"I cannot tell you, my dear sir, how grateful I am to you for this. Itwould have pained me more than I can express, if Scip had suffered fordoing a disinterested kindness to me. "

Early in the morning we were again on our way, and twelve o'clock foundus seated at a dinner of bacon, corn-bread, and waffles, in the "firsthotel" of Georgetown. The Charleston boat was to leave at three o'clock;and, as soon as dinner was over, I sallied out to find Scip. After ahalf-hour's search I found him on "Shackelford's wharf, " engaged inloading a schooner bound for New York with a cargo of cotton andturpentine. 

He was delighted to see me, and when I had told him I was going home, and might never see him again, I took his hand warmly in mine, and said:

"Scip, I have heard of the disgrace that was near being put upon you onmy account, and I feel deeply the disinterested service you did to me;now, I _can not_ go away without doing _something_ for you--showing youin _some_ way that I appreciate and _like_ you. "

"I like's _you_, massa, " he replied, the tears coming to his eyes: "Ituk ter you de bery fuss day I seed you, 'case, I s'pose, " and he wrungmy hand till it ached: "you pitied de pore brack man. But you karnt donuffin fur _me_, massa; I doant want nuffin; I doant want ter leab har, 'case de Lord dat put me har, arn't willin' I shud gwo. But you kin dosuffin, massa, fur de pore brack man, --an' dat'll be doin' it fur _me_, 'case my heart am all in dat. You kin tell dem folks up dar, whar youlib, massa, dat we'm not like de brutes, as dey tink we is. Dat we's gotsouls, an' telligence, an' feelin's, an' am men like demselfs. You kintell 'em, too, massa, --'case you's edication, and kin talk--how de porewite man 'am kep' down har; how he'm ragged, an' starvin', an' ob noaccount, 'case de brack man am a slave. How der chil'ren can't get noschulein', how eben de grow'd up ones doan't know nuffin--not eben somuch as de pore brack slave, 'case de 'stockracy wan't dar votes, ancudn't get 'em ef dey 'low'd 'em larning. Ef your folks know'd all detrufh--ef dey know'd how both de brack an' de pore w'ite man, am on degroun', and can't git up, ob demselfs--dey'd do _suffin'_--dey'd breakde Constertution--dey'd do suffin' ter help us. I doant want no onehurted, I doant want no one wronged; but jess tink ob it, massa, fourmillion ob bracks, and nigh so many pore wites, wid de bressed gospilshinin' down on 'em, an' dey not knowin' on it. All dem--ebry one of'em--made in de image ob de great God, an' dey driven roun', an' 'busedwuss dan de brutes. You's seed dis, massa, wid your own eyes, an' youkin tell 'em on it; an' you _will_ tell 'em on it, massa;" and again hetook my hand while the tears rolled down his cheeks; "an' Scip willbress you fur it, massa; wid his bery lass breaf he'll bress you; an' degood Lord will bress you, too, massa; He will foreber bress you, forHe'm on de side ob de pore, an' de 'flicted: His own book say dat, an'it am true, I knows it, fur I feels it _har_;" and he laid his hand onhis heart, and was silent. 

I could not speak for a moment. When I mastered my feelings, I said, "I_will_ do it Scip; as God gives me strength, I _will_. "

Reader, I am keeping my word. 

CHAPTER XX. 

CONCLUSION. 

This is not a work of fiction. It is a record of facts, and thereforethe reader will not expect me to dispose of its various characters onartistic principles--that is, lay them away in one of those finalreceptacles for the creations of the romancer--the grave and matrimony. Death has been among them, but nearly all are yet doing their work inthis breathing, busy world. 

The characters I have introduced are real. They are not drawn with thepencil of fancy, nor, I trust, colored with the tints of prejudice. Thescenes I have described are true. I have taken some liberties with thenames of persons and places, and, in a few instances, altered dates; butthe events themselves occurred under my own observation. No oneacquainted with the section of country I have described, or familiarwith the characters I have delineated, will question this statement. Lest some one who has not seen the slave and the poor white man of theSouth, as he actually is, should deem my picture overdrawn, I will saythat "the half has not been told!" If the whole were related--if theSouthern system, in all its naked ugliness, were fully exposed--thetruth would read like fiction, and the baldest relation of fact likethe wildest dream, of romance. 

 * * * * *

The overseer was never taken. A letter which I received from ColonelJ----, shortly prior to the stoppage of the mails, informed me that Moyehad succeeded in crossing the mountains into Tennessee, where, in aninterior town, he disposed of the horse, and then made his way by aninland route to the free states. The horse the Colonel had recovered, but the overseer he never expected to see. Moye is now, no doubt, somewhere in the North, and is probably at this present writing azealous Union man, of somewhat the same "stripe" as the conductors ofthe New York _Herald_ and the Boston _Courier_. 

I have not heard directly from Scipio, but one day last July, after along search, I found on one of the wharves of South Street, a coastingcaptain, who knew him well, and who had seen him the month previous atGeorgetown. He was at that time pursuing his usual avocations, and wasas much respected and trusted, as when I met him. 

A few days after the tidings of the fall of Sumter were received in NewYork, and when I had witnessed the spontaneous and universal uprising ofthe North, which followed that event, I dispatched letters to several ofmy Southern friends, giving them as near as I could an account of thetrue state of feeling here, and representing the utter madness of thecourse the South was pursuing. One of these letters went to my Unionacquaintance whom I have called, in the preceding pages, "Andy Jones. "

He promptly replied, and a pretty regular correspondence ensued betweenus, which has continued, at intervals, even since the suspension ofintercourse between the North and the South. 

Andy has stood firmly and nobly by the old flag. At the risk of everything, he has boldly expressed his sentiments everywhere. With his lifein his hand, and--a revolver in each of his breeches-pockets, he walkedthe streets of Wilmington when the secession fever was at its height, openly proclaiming his undying loyalty to the Union, and "no man daredgainsay him. "

But with all his patriotism, Andy keeps a bright eye on the "mainchance. " Like his brother, the Northern Yankee, whom he somewhatresembles and greatly admires, he never omits an opportunity of "turningan honest penny. " In defiance of custom-house regulations, and of ourstrict blockade, he has carried on a more or less regular traffic withNew York and Boston (_via_ Halifax and other neutral ports), ever sinceNorth Carolina seceded. His turpentine--while it was still hisproperty--has been sold in the New York market, under the very eyes ofthe government officials--and, honest reader, _I_ have known of it. 

By various roundabout means, I have recently received letters from him. His last, dated in April, and brought to a neutral port by a shipmasterwhom he implicitly trusts, has reached me since the previous chapterswere written. It covers six pages of foolscap, and is written indefiance of all grammatical and orthographical principles; but as itconveys important intelligence, in regard to some of the personsmentioned in this narrative, I will transcribe a portion of it. 

It gave me the melancholy tidings of the death of Colonel J----. He hadjoined the Confederate army, and fell, bravely meeting a charge of theMassachusetts troops, at Roanoke. 

On receiving the news of his friend's death, Andy rode over to theplantation, and found Madam P---- plunged in the deepest grief. While hewas there a letter arrived from Charleston, with intelligence of thedangerous illness of her son. This second blow crushed her. For severaldays she was delirious, and her life despaired of; but throughout thewhole the noble corn-cracker, neglecting every thing, remained besideher. 

When she returned to herself, and had in a measure recovered herstrength, she learned that the Colonel had left no will; that she wasstill a slave; and soon to be sold, with the rest of the Colonel's_personal property_, according to law. 

This is what Andy writes about the affair. I give the letter as he wroteit, merely correcting the punctuation, and enough of the spelling, tomake it intelligible. 

"W'en I hard thet th' Cunel hadent leff no wil, I was hard put what terdew; but arter thinkin' on it over a spell, I knowed shede har on itsumhow; so I 'cluded to tel har miseff. She tuk on d----d hard atfust, but arter a bit, grew more calm like, and then she sed it warGod's wil, an' she wudent komplane. Ye nows I've got a wife, but wen thema'am sed thet, she luk'd so like an angel, thet d----d eff I cud helpputtin' my arms round har, an' hugin' on har, till she a'mostescreeched. Wal, I toled har, Id stan' by har eff evrithing went terh--l--an I wil, by ----. 

"I made up mi minde to onst, what ter dew. It war darned harde work turbee'way from hum jess then, but I war in fur it; soe I put terCharleston, ter see th' Cunel's 'oman. Wal, I seed har, an' I toled harhow th' ma'am felte, an' how mutch shede dun at makein' th' Cunel'smoney--(she made nigh th' hul on it, 'case he war alers keerles, an' tukno 'count uv things; eff tadent ben fur thet, hede made a wil, ) an' Iaxed har ter see thet the ma'am had free papers ter onst. An' whot derye 'spoze she sed? Nuthin, by ---- 'cept she dident no nuthin' 'boutbisniss, an' leff all uv sech things ter har loryer. Wal, then I wentter him--he ar one on them slick, ily, seceshun houn's, who'd sell tharsoles fur a kountterfit dollar--an' he toled me, th' 'ministratur hadentsot yit, an' he cudent dew nuthin til he hed. Ses I: 'ye mean th''ooman's got ter gwo ter th' hi'est bider?' 'Yas, ' he sed, 'the Cunel'sgot dets, an' the've got ter bee pade, an' th' persoonel prop'ty mustebee sold ter dew it. ' Then I sed, 'twud bee sum time fore thet war dun, an' the 'ooman's 'most ded an' uv no use now; 'what'll ye _hire_ har turme fur. ' He sed a hun'red for sicks months. I planked down the moneyter onst, an' put off. 

"I war bilin' over, but it sumhow cum inter my hed thet the Cunnel's'ooman cudn't bee _all_ stun; so I gose thar agin; an' I toled har whatthe loryer sed, an' made a reg'lar stump-'peal tew har bettar natur. Iaxed har eff she'd leff the 'ooman who'd made har husban's fortun, whowar the muther ov his chil'ren, who fur twenty yar, hed nussed him insickness, an' cheered him in healtf; ef shede let _thet 'ooman_, beeauckyund off ter th' hi'est bider. I axed al thet, an' what der ye thinkshe sed, Why jest this. '_I_ doant no nuthin' bout it, Mister Jones. Yeraily must talke ter mi loryer; them maters I leaves 'tirely ter him. 'Then, I sed, I 'spozed the niggers war ter bee advertist. 'O, yas!' shesed, (an' ye see, she know'd a d----d site 'bout _thet_), 'all on 'emmuss be solde, 'case, ye knows, I never did luv the kuntry, --'sides _I_cud'ent karry on the plantashun, no how. ' Then, sed I: 'the Orlean'straders 'ill be thar--an' she wunt sell fur but one use, fur she'shansum yit; an' ma'am, ye wunt leff a 'ooman as white as you is, who furtwenty yar, hes ben a tru an' fatheful _wife_ tar yer own ded husban, '(I shudn't hev put thet in, but d----d ef I cud help it, ) ye wunt put_har_ up on the block, an' hev har struck down ter the hi'est bider, terbee made a d---- d---- on?'

"Wal, I s'pose she hadent forgot thet, fur more'n twelve yar, the Cunnelhed _luv'd_ t'other 'ooman, an' onely _liked_ har; fur w'en I sed thet, har ize snapped like h--l, an' she screetched eout thet she dident 'lowno sech wurds in har hous', an' ordurd me ter leave. Mi'tey sqeemishthet, warn't it? bein' as shede ben fur so mony yar the Cunnel's ----, an' th' tuther one his raal wife. 

"Wal, I _did_ leav'; but I left a piece of mi mind a-hind. I toled harI'de buy that ar 'ooman ef she cost all I war wuth and I had ter pawnemy sole ter git the money; an' I added, jess by way ov sweet'nin' thepill, thet I ow'd all I hed ter har husband, an' dident furget _my_debts ef she did _her'n_, an' ef his own wife disgraced him, I'd bed----d ef _I_ wud. 

"Wal, I've got th' ma'am an' har boy ter hum, an' my 'ooman hes tuk terhar a heep. I doant no w'en the sale's ter cum off, but ye may bet hi'on my beein' thar; an' I'll buy har ef I hev ter go my hull pile on har, an' borrer th' money fur ole Pomp. But _he'll_ go cheap, 'case theCunnel's deth nigh dun him up. It clean killed Ante Lucey. She neverheld her hed up arter she heerd 'Masser Davy' war dead, fur she sot harvary life on him. Don't ye fele consarned 'bout the ma'am--I knows yesot hi' on har--_I'll buy har_, shore. Thet an' deth ar th' onely thingsthet I knows on, in this wurld, jess now, that ar SARTIN. "

Such is Andy's letter. Mis-spelled and profane though it be, I would notalter a word or a syllable of it. It deserves to be written incharacters of gold, and hung up in the sky, where it might be read byall the world. And it _is_ written in the sky--in the greatrecord-book--and it will be read when you and I, reader, meet theassembled universe, to give account of what _we_ have done and written. God grant that our record may show some such deed as that!