[figure description] Page 031.[end figure description]

You will have formed some idea, Mr. —, from
the descriptions in my last, of the characteristics of the
place from which I write these communications. You
will perceive that I am domiciliated in one of those fine
old mansions of the West where the lordly proprietors
live more like feudal nobles than simple farmers. In the
bosom of this beautiful scenery which I have endeavored to
picture to you, and within the walls of this hospitable
abode, I hope to make my home, at least for two years
to come.

Perhaps you would like to know something about me
before I came here to assume, at the age of nineteen, the
grave and responsible position of governess. I am quite
willing to gratify your curiosity. But first let me describe
to you what is now passing beneath my window,
for I write within full sight of the lawn. There I can
see Colonel Peyton, the father of my pupil, seated upon
a finely formed bay nag, a rifle laid carelessly across his
saddle, and two fine deer-dogs standing by his horse's
forelegs and looking up wistfully into their master's face.
He has upon his head a broad-brimmed, white beaver,
turned up in front, something after the fashion of the ancient
cocked hat, a manner of wearing it that lends him,
with his manly features and silver gray locks, a decided
military air. Over a brown linen hunting frock is slung a

[figure description] Page 032.[end figure description]

leather belt, appended to which is his powder-horn and
shot-bag; and with his boots drawn á la Hussar, over his
trowsers, and armed with silver spurs, he sits accoutred for
the field, a handsome specimen of an American Western
gentleman preparing for a hunt. Standing just in front
of his stirrup is a negro fifty years of age, (about his
master's,) his old straw hat in his hand and his head bent
forward in an attitude at once respectful and attentive,
listening to orders from his master.

“You hear, Pete, that as soon as the young gentlemen
arrive, you are to mount the filly and bring them to the
wood.”

“Yiss, massa!” and Peter bowed like a thorough-bred
gentleman, so courteous was the air with which he bent
his head.

“You will find me either at the Crow's Pine, or else
about the Salt Lick. See that they bring their guns.”

“Yiss, massa!”

“And don't let that noisy whelp of yours,” here the
colonel cracked his whip-lash at a wretched, shaggy
monster of a dog that crouched, as if fully conscious of
his bad reputation, behind the legs of the negro; “don't
let him come into the forest again; if he does, I'll hang
him. He spoiled our sport last Thursday.”

“I know he did, mass'. He berry ignorum dog, sometime;
he nebber hab much telligencts like odder gemmen
dogs, massa; but Injun shan't come dis time.”

The colonel now pointed with the end of his riding
whip to a gate, which Peter hastened to open; standing
bare-headed till his master rode through it; and then
closing it he returned to the house, the villainous-looking
dog Injun capering about him, as much overjoyed at

[figure description] Page 033.[end figure description]

being released from the awe of the colonel's eye, as a
roguish school-boy when the “master” steps out.

“You mighty grad, Injun, aint you?” I overhear
Peter say to his companion, “but you better keep quiet
and min' you' business at home, or sure 'nuff massa 'll
hab you hang'd. You a'n't fit hunt deer like de gemmen's
genteel dog, you nigger you; all you do is frighten
'em away from de stan', and keep massa and oder gemmen
from gettin' shot at 'em, you scar'crow! Massa
sarve you right he shoot you, Injun!”

Peter's voice was lost as he went with a limping shuffle
around the house. I can see the noble form of the
colonel as his horse bears him along the avenue, and so
out across the green dell at an easy pace. Now he stops
to speak to the poor blind shepherd boy, who raises his
cap, and seems happy to be noticed. The sheep start
and bound away before the horse's feet, and the lazy kine
slowly give him the path. Now he winds about the base
of the lion's head cliff, and is now lost to sight in the
dark grove of elm and maple that half conceals the tarn.
Above his head wheels the black-winged vulture in approaching
circles, as if he well knew that there was
always blood to be found in the hunter's path.

I will return to my room, and resume—myself! But I
am again interrupted. The ajar door of my elegant
apartment opens, and a negress of sixteen enters with a
silver cup of water, upon a silver salver. She is bare-footed,
and her head is bound with a gay handkerchief
tastefully and uniquely twisted into a sort of oriental
turban; for the taste of these daughters of Africa is instinctively
Eastern. A blue cotton gown completes her
simple attire, save a pair of bright brass ear-rings, and

[figure description] Page 034.[end figure description]

a couple of brass and one silver ring upon her shapely
fingers; for her hands, and fingers, and finger nails,
though the former are brown as a chestnut, are exquisitely
shaped. Ugly hands seem to belong to the Anglo Saxons,
I think, especially to those of cold climates; for the
farther we go south, the more elegant the female hand.

The name of the African maid is Eda, which is, I
suppose, a corruption of Edith. She was given to my
charge as my waiting-woman, on the first evening of my
arrival here; and by night she sleeps on a rug at the
door of my chamber. At first, I was shocked and
alarmed to have a negress sleep in the chamber with me;
but now, I am so accustomed to her presence, and she is
so willing, so watchful, so attentive, so useful, that I am
quite reconciled to having her. “Missis, glass water,
please?” she said, curtseying, and dropping her large
lustrous eyes with habitual submission, as she presented
the salver.

I had not asked for water, but I find that it is the
custom for some one of the servants to go over the house
several times a day to every person, wherever they happen
to be, whether on the portico walking, or in the
library reading, or even pursuing them into the garden
to offer them water. This is a hospitable, and in the
hot weather of this climate, a refreshing custom. Southerners
are all great water drinkers. At evening, when
we are seated on the piazza, enjoying the beauty of the
western skies, sherbet, water, fruit, and even ice creams
have been brought out to us. Indeed, there seems to be
some useful person continually engaged in some mysterious
corner of this large house, preparing luxuries to

[figure description] Page 035.[end figure description]

dispense through the day to the inmates, and to chance
visitors, of which there are not a few.

When I first arrived here, and it has been scarcely a
month—I was amazed at the number of servants. There
are no less than seven in the house, and full as many
more connected with the gardens, stables, and for out-door
domestic duty, beside the two hundred plantation
hands that work always in the field as agriculturists; for
the domestic slaves and the field slaves are two distinct
classes on an estate like this, and never interchange
labor, save indeed, when a refractory house servant is
sometimes sent into the field, to toil under the hot sun
as punishment, for a week or so. And the difference is
not merely in employment, but in character and appearance.
The field servant is heavy, loutish, and slow; his
features scarce elevated in expression above the mule,
which is his co-laborer. The domestic servant is more
sprightly, better clad, more intelligent and animated,
apes polite manners, and imitates the polished airs of the
well-bred “white folk.” By contact constantly with the
family, they use better language, have their faculties
sharpened, and, in a dozen ways, show their superiority
to the less favored helots of the plough. This superiority
they love to exhibit, and I have been amused at their
assumption of hauteur when they had occasion to hold
intercourse with any of the “field hands,” sent to the
house on an errand.

Altogether the house servants are very different creatures.
Four of them have intelligent faces, are excellent
pastry-cooks, laundresses, dairywomen, and seamstresses,
and seem, really, to take as much part and

[figure description] Page 036.[end figure description]

lively interest in household matters as the matron, their
mistress.

“Can you read, Eda?” I asked of my little Timbuctoo
maid, as I replaced the silver tumbler on the waiter.
“No, Missis,” and her large velvet-black eyes danced in
their wide pearly spheres, as if she thought it would be a
fine thing to know how.

“I know spell my name, missis. Missy Bel teach me
dat!”

In my next you shall, certainly, have a little account
of myself; but I feel myself of so little importance, that
the least thing tempts my pen away from the egotistical
theme.

p613-042

Previous section

Next section