“I hain't got no change,” said the little fellow, gathering
up the reins to move on.

“Never mind the change,” said Dixon, laughing.

“Wal, I hope you don't guess I'll take all that money
fur such a little ride, do you?”

“I guess you will,” sneeringly returned Dixon, all of
his hatred of the Yankee character being revived by the
nasal twang of the urchin; “I guess you will take it, and
you'd better buy one of these farms with part of it, and
keep the rest to build you a house.”

The boy took the money with evident surprise at the
liberality of the gift marked on his face, and laughed
heartily at Dixon's remark, for he understood it exactly
different from what it was intended; and then touching
up his horses, soon rattled on out of sight.

Now something in all this had annoyed Dixon, and he
strode on to the village in exceeding bad humor. Although
it was in the usual business hours of the day, he
saw no one in the streets; the houses set back from the
road,—the front doors were generally open,—but all was
still. He passed one or two modest-looking stores; the
inmates seemed to be absorbed in books, or half asleep.
At the extreme end of the town he discovered an old-fashioned
tavern sign, and to it he wended his way.

Suddenly he heard the hum of busy voices, merry
laughter, and other signs of life; and it appeared to him
that by a simultaneous movement, the heretofore quiet
streets were alive with children. The merry urchins
poured out from almost every house, and went whooping
in merry troops up and down the streets. Such a

[figure description] Page 098.[end figure description]

continued array of white faces, and rosy cheeks, depressed
Dixon; and at the moment, he would have looked upon a
negro, if legitimately in his presence, with all the sentiment
of suddenly seeing among strangers a familiar face.

Dixon soon made an interested friend of the landlord
of the “Farmer's Inn;” and although out of the usual
hour, he ordered some refreshments, and then asked to be
directed to the village barber. The landlord pointed him
out the shop, and then disappeared to attend to his unexpected
call for a dinner.

Charles Broadnax lived near the centre of the village,
and opposite the church. Over the door, in simple letters,
was the name; and on the inside, the negro man
could be seen busily dusting off the various articles that
composed his stock in trade. A dark and terrible expression
passed over the face of Dixon, as he saw the negro;
but by a great effort of will, he controlled himself, and
entered the “saloon.”

Charles, with professional courtesy, made the usual
bow; and asked what the gentleman would have. Dixon
signified his desire, and in another moment was undergoing
the necessary, but not very poetical infliction of being
shaved. Charles was at leisure, and took more than usual
pains to please; and when Dixon came from under his
manipulations, he looked vastly improved.

Before Dixon left, Charles's two children, of seven and
nine years of age, came into the shop, and leaving some
message, immediately went out again. Dixon paid his
bill, and casually inquired:

“You have some children, I see?”

[figure description] Page 099.[end figure description]

“Yes,” said Charles, “I have got four.”

“And how do you like living in this cold country?”
inquired Dixon, pretending to be very much interested
with a picture that ornamented the wall.

There was something in the tone of voice and manner
of Dixon that now alarmed Charles, yet he could not tell
why. The sound of the voice,—the cold, distrustful, and
evidently unsympathizing expression,—revived recollections
that had been slumbering in his memory for years;
and yet, while his heart sunk within him, nothing visible
to his eye seemed to justify his fears.

Dixon saw the mental agitation of his victim, and was
confirmed in his idea that he was talking to the fugitive;
but to place the matter beyond a doubt, he said:

“I rode up from the railroad depot with one of your
citizens, and I have heard your story with a great deal of
interest.”

“Ah!” said Charles, instantly recovering his spirits
(for his escape from slavery was quite a familiar romance
in the vicinity); “many people do talk of my having come
from the South; but for that, I should almost forget it
myself.”

Dixon said no more, but walked back to the “Farmers'
Inn,” and commenced in excellent spirits his plain, but
neatly dressed, and substantial dinner. The landlord
was a garrulous man, and talked about a thousand things
of no possible interest to Dixon; but upon that gentleman
mentioning what an excellent barber the town of Stoneyville
was blessed with, Boniface went into the whole details
of Charles's coming to the town,—his early struggle

[figure description] Page 100.[end figure description]

to maintain himself,—and his final triumphs; and then
launched off into a tirade against slavery, and wound up
with loud denunciations on the head of negro traders,
whom the landlord said he had Charles's authority for asserting
“were a pack of thieving scoundrels, who would
do any thing base to sell the souls and bodies of the unfortunate
slave.”

“Did that nigger barber say that?” growled Dixon,
as well as he could, with his mouth full of excellent pudding.

The landlord, perfectly delighted that he had at last
touched upon a subject that interested his guest, replied:

“Yes, he said that; and I'll add,” continued the
landlord, determined to be agreeable, “that a man that
will give himself up to make a trade of selling human
beings,—to separating parents and children,—deserves to
go down to the bottomless pit, where there is weeping and
wailing and gnashing of teeth.”

“That's your opinion, is it?” said Dixon, perfectly
strangled with wrath, and purple in his face.

“It is,” said the landlord, still unconscious of the
effect of his remarks; “and it's the opinion of every decent
man in the country;”—and then pausing a moment, and
giving his language great effect, he continued: “Charles
says, that in the South even, a nigger trader is despised
and loathed, and not allowed to sit at a gentleman's table;
and if such is the case —”

“Shut up your infernal gab!” finally roared Dixon,
almost in an apoplectic fit, “and the devil take Charles!—

[figure description] Page 101.[end figure description]

Can t you let a man eat a meal in your house, without insulting
him, you chuckle-headed fool?”

The landlord fell back against the wall, overcome with
astonishment.

“I hope I haven't offended you!” he said, the moment
he could speak.

Dixon, who had convulsively seized the carving knife
before him, and half risen in his chair, dropped the
weapon, and settling back in his seat, while his face was
still black with indignation, he begged the landlord to excuse
him, “as he was subject to flows of blood to the
head.”

In a few moments he paid his bill, and walked precipitately
into the street. The instant that he reached the
highway, and was beyond observation and hearing, he unloosed
his neck-kerchief, to let the air come to his
neck, for its veins were swelling and heaving as if heated
by an internal fire; and then throwing his arms about him
as if to obtain more relief, he poured out upon the landlord
of the “Farmers' Inn,” and upon Charles, curses
and maledictions that rivalled the fiends themselves; and it
was not until he had walked the whole five miles necessary
to reach the railroad station, that he was fairly self-possessed.

Dixon, on his arrival among his confederates, kept up
the discipline necessary for the best execution of his plans.
He would not allow them to appear much together in the
street, nor would he, when observed, have much to say to
them himself. It was not until ten o'clock at night, that
they met in their sleeping room, and discussed their plans.

[figure description] Page 102.[end figure description]

Dixon gave a graphic account of his adventures at
Stoneyville, and was further enraged by his friends' laughter,
as he detailed how the landlord, to use the deputy
United States marshal's language, “hit him under the
short ribs;” but the conclave finally concluded, that it
would be a great thing gained, if it were possible, “to
stake the landlord down, and give him a `hundred,' before
they carried off his nigger friend, Charles.”

“And how far is Stoneyville from this place?” inquired
the deputy marshal.

“Five miles,” said Dixon, sententiously.

“Five miles!” repeated the marshal, pulling out an
old watch; “why, Major Dixon,” he continued, “it is
now only eleven o'clock; we can get to Stoneyville by one,
and take the nigger in his den, asleep, and be back in time
for the three o'clock morning train.”

“I know that,” snarled Dixon, “I could go back alone
to Stoneyville, and take him myself, and bring him here;
but that isn't the thing,—I want a row,—I want some of
them guessing Yankees to interfere; I want that landlord
to get a rip with a bowie,—I want to make these fellows
feel what it is to infringe on Southern rights.

The two men, whom Dixon had hired to accompany
him, finally fell into a slumber, but the deputy marshal
seemed a little nervous about his “official capacity,” from
the fact, that his commission seemed to him a profound
delegation of terrible power, and he was constantly afraid
that it would either be infringed upon, or not sufficiently
exerted; so he kept wide awake, and continued in conversation
with Dixon.

[figure description] Page 103.[end figure description]

Now the major was exceedingly well skilled in his
business, and he had inculcated the deputy marshal with
the belief, that if he, the marshal, was successful in this
“particular hunt,” that he might get into a fine run of
business, and soon make himself rich; and to further stimulate
his confederate, Dixon gave several illustrations of
the profits of fugitive hunting; but the story he told with
most unction, ran as follows:—

“When I fust commenced this business, it was before
the abolitionists had created such a fuss against the South,
and before the slave States made the law, that a negro
was free, if his master took him voluntarily into the northern
States. The consequence was, that a great many gentlemen
owned niggers, who had by travel got to be pretty
considerable sort of gentlemen.

“A young man, by the name of Pinckney, who at about
twenty-one, came in possession of a large estate, took it
into his head to have in Europe a grand “spludge,” so he
took his body servant, Benson, about as white as niggers
ever get to be, and started off. I think Benson told me
that his master stayed abroad about ten years, and visited
all the kings and queens, and courted duchesses, and all
that sort of thing; Benson half the time passing for his
companion, and all the time treated as if he was, no mistake,
white.

“When Pinckney got back home again, he found his
funds rather low; and having got a taste for cards and
horses, he went down South, and commenced the genteel
gambler, and figured on the race track; and it was generally
given in, that if it hadn't been for Benson's smartness,

[figure description] Page 104.[end figure description]

he'd a gone to the dogs in less time than it takes to brand
a nigger.

“Now a race track, Mr. Deputy Marshal, is a bad
place for fools,—a bad place for a man that loses his
senses in drinking too much—I never do that,—and a bad
place for a bird, any way, that is rather loose in his
feathers. Be that as it may, Pinckney soon had fastened
on him a shrewd man, who determined to get Benson from
him, by fair means or foul; and so he stuck to him with
“marked cards,” and pisening his race horses, and bribing
their riders, until Pinckney put up Benson against fifteen
hundred dollars, and lost him on the race track, easier
than a turtle rolls off a log.

“Now, the man that won Benson didn't live in a palace,
or have any duchesses about him, I tell you. He occupied
a log-cabin, eat corned pork, and amused himself
drinking whiskey, running horses, and hunting niggers. He
was a real spirited gentleman, but rather imprudent in
whipping, for he used to lay it on when he got mad, so that
the nigger never got over it, and that is a foolish wasting
of property, for you see Mr. Deputy, there is no feeling in a
nigger's hide below the skin, and if you will take time, you
can get it all out of his body without touching a vital—but
howsomever, the man had a right to kill 'em if he could
afford to, for a person should do as he pleases with his
own.

“As soon as this man won Benson, who stood by, dressed
up in the very clothes he brought from France, and a
gold watch in his pocket, he said very mildly: `Benson,
my boy, that half neck ahead of my horse as they came out

[figure description] Page 105.[end figure description]

at the stand, made me your master; now I have a prejudice
agin dandy niggers, agin learned niggers, and agin
white niggers; and as I don't fancy the airs Mr. Pinckney
puts on, I think I'll commence your education by whipping
out of your hide all the gyrations he's larned you; and if
you live through it, maybe you'll make a good cotton picker
at last,' and as the winner said this, he commenced without
further ceremony belting Benson with a heavy whip,
every stroke of which cut the broadcloth into flinders.

“Now, Pinckney (who was drunk when he put up Benson
as a stake, for he would have sacrificed his life for the
boy had he been sober), seeing the man strike Benson, he
drew a knife, and demanding how any one dared to strike
his nigger, rushed in, and a general fight ensued; but as
might be expected, the gamblers got the advantage, for
they cut up Pinckney awful, so he died the next day, but
the nigger disappeared, and wasn't seen afterwards.

“Now Benson understood that he had been lost on a
bet, and determining not to go with his new master, the
moment the fight commenced, he slipped out of sight, hid
away in the woods, and hailed the first boat going to Cincinnati
after he got to the Mississippi River, and was taken
on board and treated all the way like a gentleman, no
one on the boat even suspecting that he was a darkee,
much less a runaway slave.

“Benson found his way of course to the British possessions,
and if our government at Washington had any spunk,
it would declare war on Canada, just to get the runaways;
that's the way it sarved the Seminoles, and a very pretty
thing we made of it. Benson once on English sile, set

[figure description] Page 106.[end figure description]

himself up for a gentleman at large, and as he could talk about
crowned heads, picters and all that sort of nonsense, he was
looked upon as the perlitest man ever was seen, and you'd
scarcely believe it, set up a perfumery store and married an
English woman, as handsome I'm told as any in the country.”

The deputy marshal, who had listened up to this moment
in profound silence; at the statement of the marriage,
rolled up his eyes in astonishment, and said:—

“Oh, Major! You're going it too strong.”

“Not a bit of it; for you see Benson was a white nigger,
and it took a good judge to show the cross. I have,”
he continued, “paid a heap of money out to settle this very
question of how white a nigger can be.

“'Twas only six years ago, I bought, near Richmond,
for a friend of mine in Orleans, a real blue-eyed white nigger
girl; and after I got her on the ship, a habeas corpus
was got out, to prove she was clear white. Her lawyer
took the ground that she was free—for, you see it was argued
according to the Virginny statute, `that every person
who had one fourth negro blood should be deemed a nigger,
and that every person who had less than that should have
a certificate of being white. 'Twas a hard struggle for
twenty hundred dollars, I tell you, for the man I bought
the girl of, had taken the money and left.

“Fortunately the girl hadn't any education; she looked
beautiful, and being only fifteen, was worth to a young fellow
with plenty of money, three thousand as she stood, and
as she couldn't plead her case, and didn't seem to care,—
when I showed them that the inside of her hands was

[figure description] Page 107.[end figure description]

a little smoother than ordinary white folks, and the dark
line down the spine; the justice give in and I took her off;
but for that, it would have been as good as losing six ordinary
niggers, as things then stood.

“But as I was saying about Benson; he took to the perfumery
business, and married a white wife, and got to be a
great man in his way, I tell you. There he lived, not even
his fellow-runaways suspecting that he had ever seen a slave
State. But a Southern man, who had seen Benson on the
race track, recognized him in Canada, and it got to my ears,
and the first time I was down in Louisiana after I heard
of his whereabouts, I bought out his master's interest for
fifty dollars, and took a regular bill of sale.

“I expected to have a deal of trouble, if I ever got
Benson at all, but he walked into the trap I set for him
like a bumble-bee into a sugar hogshead. Just one letter,
pretending to be from a New York merchant, that wanted
to see him in Detroit, brought him under the American flag
and into a pair of handcuffs.”

“And what became of him at last?” asked the deputy
marshal.

“Why,” said Dixon, rising up and walking about the
room, “as a mere money speculation, Benson turned out
badly. I spent three hundred dollars to get him to St.
Louis, and carried him gagged and tied all the way, and
when I got him fairly in limbo, after all my trouble, he had
the ingratitude to hang himself to the rafters, and so give
me the slip after all.”

“And what became of his wife?” asked the marshal with
more interest than he had at any other time displayed.

[figure description] Page 108.[end figure description]

“I don't know,” said Dixon, with an equivocal smile on
his face, “but I remember that the papers and the abolitionists
at the time made a great deal of fuss about it, and
said the woman went crazy; but the idea of a white woman
going crazy for a nigger, was working the sentimental with
too much steam on, and I never thought about the subject
afterwards.”

A few orders in the morning were given by Dixon, and
the men walked rapidly on their way. At this moment you
could scarcely distinguish the quiet story-teller of the previous
night, with the man as he appeared under the growing
excitement of making a capture. He seemed to be a
head taller; there was an erectness about his figure, a fire
in his eye, and an expression in his face that was really impressive,
and he seemed to inspire his followers with his
own defiant spirit.

The streets of Stoneyville, as the men entered at different
points, were alive with children going to school, and
with citizens on their way to their daily avocations. Dixon,
always in sight of his fellow laborers, walked straight up
to Charles's shop, and peeping in at the window, discovered
the object of his search busily employed in dressing the
hair of a reverend-looking gentleman. Raising his finger,
the deputy marshal, white with fear and excitement, came
within a few yards of him, while the hired assistants had
reached stations near Dixon equidistant up and down the
street.

The moment that every thing was ready, Dixon tapped
on the door, and Charles, comb in hand, stepped forward
and opened it, and as he put his head out, Dixon seized him

[figure description] Page 109.[end figure description]

with his left hand by the collar and jerked him into the
street, at the same instant striking him a stunning blow on
his head with a heavy club.

The negro reeled, staggered against the side of the
house, and fell on his knees.

“Where the hell are the handcuffs?” said Dixon to the
deputy, while his other assistants rushed up, and according
to instructions, with loud voices and imprecations warned
the citizens, who were gathering round, not to interfere
with the officers of the United States. The moment, however,
that the iron touched Charles, he seemed to comprehend
his situation, and ere the four men had succeeded in
perfectly securing both of his wrists, with a herculean
effort he broke his hold, and rising on his feet, the blood
streaming down his forehead and cheeks, he dashed the
dangling handcuffs in Dixon's face, broke from the grasp
of his enemies, and amid a shower of bullets, and almost
stripped of his clothing, ran a short distance and plunged
into the deep but narrow river that flowed by the town.
Dixon followed him to the river bank, the deputy marshal
meantime waving his commission over his head, and calling
on the people to assist him in carrying into effect the sacred
laws of the land and stand by the constitution.

The firing of the pistols brought the whole population
into the streets, at the head of which, and close to Dixon's
heels, was the clergyman who was under Charles's professional
care at the moment of the arrest. By the time the
deputy marshal had finished his call upon the people to
stand by the constitution, the clergyman had recovered from
his astonishment and comprehended the scene before him,

[figure description] Page 110.[end figure description]

and jumping upon an old horse-block near by, he said in a
loud voice:—

“Men and brethren, Thou shalt not deliver unto his
master the servant which is escaped from his master
unto thee. The fugitive, he shall dwell with thee, even
among you, in that place which he shall choose in one
of thy gates, where it liketh him best; thou shalt not
oppress him.”

This appeal to the crowd was unnecessary, for no one
had yet by word or deed offered to assist, or interfere
with, the “officers of justice;” and the victim was momentarily
out of sight; but he was soon discovered climbing
up the timbers of the old dam, which once formed part
of the ruined and neglected mill. The moment Dixon saw
him he raised his revolver, and sang out:

“Come back here and surrender yourself, you infernal
black d—l, or I'll make a honeycomb of your kinky
brains; come here, I say,”—and at the same time Dixon
fired one or two ineffectual shots.

“Gentlemen,” continued the clergyman, “in the name
of humanity,—in the name of our blessed Saviour,—have
mercy!”

“Stand out of the way, you miserable, canting, abolition
towhead!” fiercely denunciated Dixon, and with the
side of his pistol-barrel rudely thrusting the clergyman
away.

Charles meanwhile seemed to somewhat recover himself,
and half walked and half crawled along the old dam,
and got into the mill; and in a moment more, reached the

[figure description] Page 111.[end figure description]

top, and passing out upon a long piece of naked timber,
seemed for the instant to be suspended in the air.

“Now fire away, you human tigers!” he cried, shaking
his manacled arm over his head; “I don't want to
live any longer, since this disgrace has been put upon me.
Fire away, I say!”

“Obey the laws of the United States, you treasonloving
renegade,” replied the deputy marshal, shaking his
documents frantically towards Charles.

“God have mercy on the makers of such laws!”
faintly murmured the fugitive, as his body swayed to and
fro, and he fell headlong down; apparently striking against
the projecting logs, and disappeared amid the singing,
surging waters, that foamed and gurgled in the abyss
below.

An exclamation of horror went up from the crowd,
mingled with the cries of “shame! shame!” when Dixon
turned coolly round to his assistants, and said:

“Dead niggers are not worth taking South, anyhow;”
and replacing his revolver in his belt, he turned to the
minister, now entirely petrified with horror, and reminded
him that there was a funeral on hand, that demanded his
attention.

Several men stripped themselves of their coats, and
plunged into the river, and swam toward the mill; a feeling
of bitter indignation began to show itself. Mr. Pendleton,
Charles's old friend, asked of Dixon his authority
for his acts, and then read with care the deputy's commission.

Threats now grew loud among the excited throng,

[figure description] Page 112.[end figure description]

demanding that Dixon should be arrested; but he, with
his companions, unmolested, retreated slowly, keeping at
bay, and were soon out of sight, and for the moment forgotten
in the excitement to learn the fate of Charles.

“Well,” said Dixon to his companions, as he proceeded
down the road, “we have seen more white livers to-day
than would feed all the hounds in Texas. If four Northeners
had come into a Southern town with a federal commission,
or any other commission, and attempted to cut up
the devil as we did to-day at Stoneyville, what would have
been the effect?”

“Why,” said the deputy promptly, “they'd a got
ducked in the river, or rode out of town on a rail.”

“They'd a got worse than that,” said Dixon, with a
leer; “Southern people would never stand by and see
strangers serve a dog so! but these Yankees,—talk to 'em
about the law, and show 'em a bowie or a pistol, and they
wilt up like tobacco leaves touched with frost.”

The negro, though nearly dead when found, seemed
by a miracle to have escaped with life. His body lay
bleeding, mutilated, and insensible,—not in the water, as
was supposed, but among the matted logs. With difficulty
he was restored to consciousness, and then only to
rave about the manacle on his wrist, and express a desire
to die.

Never was there before within the memory of the oldest
inhabitant, so sad a day at Stoneyville. Citizens proverbially
of the mildest and most unexcitable dispositions,
seemed each hour to become more and more incensed, and
were ready at any future occasion to resist by violence, all

[figure description] Page 113.[end figure description]

laws where their execution involved such outrages as had
been witnessed that day; and at nightfall, there went up
from the firesides of Stoneyville, a deep and bitter denunciation
of slavery.

In spite of every exertion of Mr. Pendleton, Dixon and
his men got to the railroad station, and escaped without
interruption; and one or two hours taking them beyond
the jurisdiction of Vermont, they wended their way rapidly,
and without fear, toward the protecting walls of the
Federal Capitol.

p726-121 CHAPTER X. THE QUIET CLOSE OF DAY.

[figure description] Page 114.[end figure description]

“Mrs. Mildmay” performed her simple duties as mistress
of Heritage Place with due dignity. Provided with
the best possible servants, her time passed on with little
more real care than if she had been Miss Annie Hastings in
her New England home. Mildmay took advantage of the
pleasant mornings to engage with her in agreeable horseback
rides through the splendid adjoining forests, and the
evenings were passed in reading, or, as Annie herself observed,
“appreciating the luxury of being in the open air.”

The enervating character of the climate, however, had
its effect upon her constitution, and she suffered at times
that approach to indisposition which comes from extreme
lassitude, and want of varied mental excitement. Confined
sometimes to her room all day, at sunset she would
cause Clemmy to move an easy chair upon the broad gallery
of the house; and there she would sit and watch the
stars, which, in a clear southern sky, seem to come rushing
into existence, on the sudden disappearance of the sun
in the west.

[figure description] Page 115.[end figure description]

Mildmay, who had himself a keen sense of the beautiful
in nature, as he was leaning one evening against the
heavy columns, watching the close of day, heard the light
footsteps, and turning round, he received Annie with a
smile; and then assisting Clemmy in arranging her easy
chair, and seeing that Annie was luxuriously buried in
the soft cushions, and properly provided by an array of
shawls as a reserved guard against the chilliness of approaching
night, he seated himself nearly in front of
her, and taking out his cigar-case, he ordered Prince to
get him “a light;” and having done all this, he said:

“A few moments more, Annie, and you would have
lost this brilliant sunset.”

Prince instantly returned, bringing a living coal upon
the prong of an ivory-handled fork; Graham blew off
the mouldering ashes, and lit his delicate Havana: then
assuming an easy attitude, he gave one puff, and said,
“Thus, Annie, the aborigines dedicated the fragrance of
the weed to their gods; I, more devout and more useful,
shall let these fleeting clouds serve to destroy the mosquitoes,
already singing round you.”

“You are not the first enthusiast that, in making an
offering, has given the fabled deities the least substantial
part of the sacrifice,” said Annie, rousing as if from a
reverie.

“Well,” exclaimed Graham, “if I were not so comfortable
just now, and so determined not even to think, I
might reply to your unorthodox remarks, regarding my
disinterestedness.”

“Then,” returned Annie, “perhaps you will explain

[figure description] Page 116.[end figure description]

to me the secret charm of that rude seat, so much a favorite;
one would think it was made for very square, and
very straight-backed people, judging from its `form.'”

“There again,” said Graham; “what a pampered
girl; you eschew my compliments, and now question the
integrity of my throne: surely, being half buried in the
deep cushion folds of that old `arm-chair,' makes one an
egotist. But, my lady fair, yonder is a scene that can
have naught but admiration!” and he pointed to the west.

The sun was now in the very effulgence of its departing
glory, and reflected a warm orange tinge upon the face of
Annie; giving her eyes, already softened by debility, a
true sultana look. Behind her chair stood Clemmy,—her
dark and good-natured features glistening like bronze; at
Annie's feet, reposed Ponce de Leon; his eye, however,
was ever vigilant, and seemingly eager to pick a quarrel
with Clemmy for being so near his mistress. Mildmay
had put on his college skullcap, the heavy tassel fastened
to its top hanging nearly to his shoulder; his “blouse”
was loose and flowing, while the smoke of his cigar curled
lazily about his head. Prince had quietly slipped back to
his place on the gallery, and went fast asleep.

“It is beautiful! very beautiful!” half whispered
Annie, as she beheld the vast clouds rolling about, changing
into a thousand hues, and leaving between the distant
forms glimpses of distance, which seemed the openings to
other worlds.

“And,” continued Annie, with some animation, “see
you not those vast ranges of almost zenith-reaching

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mountains, glistening in pink and gold; how they are melting,
even while we gaze, into purple and blue?”

Mildmay looked at his wife with admiration, but made
no reply.

“And,” continued Annie, almost rising from her chair,
“see you not those grand peaks, and precipitous sides,
among which I fancy I can find the familiar forms of those
old giant sentinels, that look out upon Malden?”

“True,” half murmured Mildmay, buried in deep reflection;
“there's the old blue ridge itself.”

“What a pity, Mildmay,” suggested Annie, respectfully,
“that these rich lands of the South have not some
granite hills to break up their sameness; I have a fancy
that mountains cherish freedom of thought, as well as perfect
health; is it not thus?”

“So records history,” returned Mildmay, eyeing with
anxious expression the placid appearance of Annie's face.

A few more flashes, and struggling of the god of day,
and scarcely a tinge of his glory was left; the pleasant
evening breeze now sprang up, and laughed among the
hard crisp leaves of the magnolia trees.

And now might be seen moving quietly across the
yard some living thing, scarcely perceptible in the dusk;
on it comes, hesitatingly ascends the gallery stairs, and
stopping at their head, stands, hat in hand, in statue-like
silence.

Ponce de Leon is on his feet; he gives a slight growl
of alarm, and appears ready for a defence or attack.

“Who's that on the gallery?” inquired Mildmay,
without moving his head.

[figure description] Page 118.[end figure description]

“It's Ben, if you please, master,” replied the negro in
a weak voice.

“And what is the matter with Ben?”

“Ize had de fever all day, and I feel sort o' weak in
de legs,” said the negro, without moving from his place.

“And what have you been doing all day, Ben?”

“Ize been log-rolling myself, but de gang was down in
de cornfield cutting out grass.”

“And how are they getting on, Ben?”

“Oh, bery well, master; 'em alers work when you
come to see 'em.”

“Well, Ben, go down and tell Judy, that I say she
must give you something to make you well.”

“Yes, master;” and “the boy” disappeared.

The climate of the South, and the influence of the
“ancient population” of Louisiana, have unitedly created
a demand, and a taste, for large and luxuriant sleeping
apartments. Prominent among the articles of furniture
are the armoire, and the couch du lit. The armoire, of
massive proportions, is always composed of the richest of
materials, and is very often inlaid with costly and different
tinted woods, the panels are composed of costly mirrors
that reach almost from the floor to the ceiling. In
these receptacles one finds in bright array, not only the
splendid ornaments of the bride, but in a provided place,
repose the jewelled casket, the perfumed notes, the thousand
cherished records of the inmost heart. The couch du lit,
is formed of four ponderous posts, surmounted by a heavy
canopy, from which depends the delicate but necessary
mosquito netting. Underneath, is a couch, large enough

[figure description] Page 119.[end figure description]

for giants, yet of more luxuriance than that on which
Imogen reposed. The proud affection of Mildmay had surrounded
Annie with all the elegant associations of the
most favored of her sex, and many cherished mementoes of
her New England home, mingled with the costlier appurtenances,
and gave the charm of familiarity to all.

In one corner of the room, was a costly japan worktable,
a present to Annie in her childhood, from a bachelor
uncle, whose business it was to go down to the sea in ships.
The grotesque figures upon this memento, of horrible dragons,
swallowing beautiful young ladies with pigtails, and
flowers of every possible hue, with gold leaves and red
stalks, and birds flying through houses, and children running
to waste in the air, had greatly amused Annie in her
very youth, and in after years, had been the subject of
much philosophic speculation—but now, nothing could so
excite the tenderest emotions of her heart, as the sight
of those oriental absurdities—made familiar and sanctified
by so many pleasing associations.

If Annie was ever overpowered by the heat and languor
of the day, or felt the influence of those moments of despondency
that will at times come over the happiest of human
hearts; it was only while leaning upon this table, that
the consoling influence of tears came to her relief; and
alike soothed and strengthened, would she leave this domestic
shrine.

Clemmy, concluding her supper and her gossiping in
the kitchen, returned to the gallery where she busied herself
in setting back the chairs, closing the window blinds,

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and other almost nameless but necessary duties, when, according
to her wont, she went into her mistress's room.

Now Clemmy had, on the afternoon of this particular
day, rendered herself exceedingly useful in the flower garden,
which labor had caused her to neglect her household
duties, and she now, after lighting a wax candle, and
placing it under a tall glass shade, discovered the omission
of drawing the mosquito netting.

Proceeding leisurely to remedy this neglect, with the
instinctive feeling of reverence for things tasteful, so peculiar
to negroes, she with more than usual care removed
the ruffled pillows, and then carefully folded back the fine
linen of snowy whiteness over the rose-tinted counterpane;
then replacing the pillows at the head of the bed,
she seized the silken tassel pendent from the foot of the
tester, and gave the bar a jerk, that instantly expanded it
like a delicate cloud over the couch beneath—and tucking
in the edges of the bar, she next arranged the different
vases, baskets, and nicknacks, according to her ideas.
Then with evident pettishness she removed Annie's Bible to
the mantelpiece, and replaced it by a magnificently bound
volume, which was lying open upon the lounge—she then
stepped into the centre of the room and gave an admiring
glance; every thing in the room met with her perfect approbation;
but the disposition of the gayly bound volume
on the japan table was her master conception.

The night air growing too cool, and the nine o'clock
bell at the quarters having an hour before rung; Annie
rose from her seat in the gallery, moved toward the door
leading into the house, while Mildmay pleading some busi

THE QUIET CLOSE OF DAY. [figure description] 726EAF. Illustration page. A woman in a gown sits at a table in her bedroom and looks over a book. There are another book and a lamp on the table. Behind the woman is a four-poster bed with bedcurtains drawn. In the left foreground is a chair with a blanket thrown over one arm. [end figure description]

[figure description] Blank Page.[end figure description]

[figure description] Page 121.[end figure description]

ness matter with Toadvine, left Annie to pursue her inclinations
by herself.

Clemmy was within hearing, but evidently from a perfect
understanding, she continued staring into vacancy, as
if no one was near, leaving Annie to proceed uninterrupted
to her room. The young mistress wore a quiet and satisfied
expression, there was a slight tinge of pleasure warming
up her cheek, it was evident that the evening had been
agreeably spent. On entering as if performing a customary
task, she carefully returned her Bible to its appointed place,
leaving the favorite binding of Clemmy to ignobly repose
its splendor upon the brass nails of one of Mildmay's much
worn travelling trunks. Annie then sat down beside her
little table, and for some moments leaned her head upon
her hand; then, with her costly handkerchief she listlessly
brushed away some suppositious dust from the faces of
numerous little Japanese monsters, and taking up the sacred
volume, she turned to a specific place, buried her fore-finger
among the parted leaves, and seemed for a while to be
musing over the events of the day; then opening the volume
she read, in a low and musical voice, the twenty-fourth
chapter of St. Luke, and throwing herself upon her knees,
poured forth her soul in spontaneous prayer to Heaven,
calling down blessings upon her friends at a distance,
near by, her husband and herself.

Annie had scarcely risen from her kneeling position,
before Clemmy slipped noiselessly into the room, and with
some officiousness prepared to assist her mistress in her
toilet for the night. Annie would willingly have dispensed
with this, but the natural kindness of her own heart would

[figure description] Page 122.[end figure description]

not allow her to repel Clemmy's affectionate zeal; she therefore
kindly received from her hands the snowy robe de
nuit, and carefully adjusting it, and placing her comb on
the table, thereby leaving her luxuriant hair to fall over
her shoulders, she with forced resignation abandoned herself
to the hands of her faithful domestic.

Clemmy was now happy; it was the honor of arranging
those magnificent curls, that was the pride of her existence,
and made her the envy of all her fellow servants.
Annie herself could not help being amused, as she discovered
the sable face of admiration and triumph reflected
over her shoulder in the glass.

Clemmy skilfully swept away the masses of curls from
Annie's brow, which transformed her loveliness into a simplicity
that would have been commended by the most rigid
puritan of her race. The labor ended, she roused herself,
and stepped toward the bed.

Clemmy, meantime, had seized her gigantic fly brush,
in which glistened and waved the rich plumage of a host of
Juno's birds, and swinging it in the air, made a soft zephyrous
noise, and at the same time, in the most artistic manner
she prepared to lift the edge of the mosquito bar, gave
the signal, and Annie sprang through the opening with a
bound.

The busy hum of myriads of insects, thus, by almost
necromancy, cheated of their prey, but made the protection
of the netting more deliciously secure, and Annie was
soon wandering in that mysterious world, where things
past and present, and already realized hopes, mingle in
incongruous yet most harmonious combination.

p726-132 CHAPTER XI. AN ORDER DISOBEYED.

[figure description] Page 123.[end figure description]

As with all wealthy planters, the most perplexing care
to Mildmay, was the management of the overseer. To this
individual, the proprietor has to delegate immense authority,
and yet the very qualities essential for an overseer, almost
necessarily suppose, that he will not, and cannot be a refined
and responsible man. Mildmay had his share of difficulties
after Fenwick left him, but he at length employed
a “Mr. Toadvine,” who could command readily in the
neighborhood a liberal salary, and was well recommended.
Mildmay, upon concluding his agreement with Toadvine,
gave him some general instructions, proscribing on his
place the use of a certain kind of whip, and incidentally
mentioning, that if Jack, one of the “field hands,” should
at any time need correction, he desired that it would not
be administered without his, Mildmay's, knowledge.

Some months after Toadvine was installed in his office,
the unexpected announcement, by Mr. Mildmay, that business
would call him away from home for two or three days,
caused a feeling of universal gratulation in the mind of the

[figure description] Page 124.[end figure description]

overseer, and the very morning on which he saw from his
station in the field, that Mildmay had departed on his journey,
he returned to his house at the head of “the quarters,”
and taking down the “proscribed lash,” he carefully and
artistically proceeded to soften its material, and by repeated
twistings, wringings, and drawing it through his tightly
grasped hand, he brought it at last to a satisfactory state
of toughness and pliability. Then rising up and going out
of doors he whirled it around his head, and taking deliberate
aim at a cypress splinter, nearly the size of his little
finger, that obtruded from the boards of the fence, he cut
it off with the end of the lash, as smoothly as if it had been
done with the edge of his bowie-knife; he then playfully
singled out fair surfaces on the side of his cabin, and impressed
upon them at each blow, various hieroglyphic characters
with his whip, and although no particular effort was
made, he buried the snapper deeply into the somewhat
time-softened wood.

“I reckon that'll do,” at last muttered the aggrieved
man, “that'll do,—I'll teach Mr. Mildmay that niggers is
niggers, and that he can't come back here from the free
States with his damn'd infernal abolition notions, and interfere
in my business. If any of his hands 'aint got thar
share of whipping 'fore night it'll be no fault of mine.”

Just at that moment, the front gate of the quarter inclosure
opened, and in rode “Col. Price,” the overseer of
the “Moreton estate.” Toadvine saluted his friend, asked
him to dismount, and they both entered the house.

“I came over,” said Price, “to ask you to let me have
the timber wheels; I think of going into the swamp this

[figure description] Page 125.[end figure description]

evening for saw-logs, and Mr. Mildmay told me 'fore he
left that I could get 'em if not in use.”

“It's a wonder,” snarled out Toadvine, “that Mr. Mildmay
did any thing of the kind. He's been in Connecticut
so infarnally long, that I didn't believe he would do a favor.”

“Why, what's turned your hair the wrong way this
morning?” inquired Col. Price, with considerable interest.

“Why, jist this,” said Toadvine,” “you see I've been
overseer here too long to be interfered with by any man,
and I won't stand it. Mister Mildmay can't teach me my
business, and he shan't tell me I whip too much or too little.
It's only yesterday he made me let Monday up, and I
had'nt cut his hide in nary place!”

“There is one thing that'll never do,” said Col. Price;
“one thing 'll never do, and that is, to let employers interfar
too much in our business. My notion is, `let me be
head or tail, or nothink.'”

“Them's the way I think,” half soliloquized Toadvine,
drawing his huge whiplash through his fingers; “them's
the way I think, and unless we do something to let these
upstarts know who's who, 'taint unlikely we may get down
to be thought as little of as a schoolmaster or a preacher.”

“Not as bad as that!” said Col. Price, in a tone of
voice that showed that he never thought that such a respectable
office as overseer could possibly be degraded by
connection with such professions; “no, no, not so bad as
that,” and rousing himself up, he drove his fist into the
table, and looking around in a great excitement, he said,

[figure description] Page 126.[end figure description]

“he would like to see a living man that would dare to mistake
him for a schoolmaster or a preacher.”

Toadvine, who had cruelty enough in his composition
to make two Col. Prices, lacked that military gentleman's
courage in the expression of his sentiments; so he deeply
regretted that he had made even the improbable comparison
that had given his friend offence, and getting up from
his seat he went to a rude sideboard, and unlocking it, he
took out a decanter of raw whiskey, and setting a broken
tumbler and a teacup upon the table, he suggested to Col.
Price the propriety of taking something to help out his
breakfast.”

“That's very good liquor,” said Price, smacking his
lips, “whar did you come across it?”

“Well, don't you know it, easy,” suggested Toadvine,
putting the decanter up to Price's nose, “don't you know
the smell?”

“Upon my word,” said Price, drawing in his breath,
as if inhaling the perfume of a moss rose, “upon my word,
old Gen. Blatherskite's `electioneering tour,' as the central
committee called it; how did you have so much? thought
it all went at the `Clay gut precinct.'”

“Why, you see,” said Toadvine, “I sent word to the
General, that if he expected to get the vote of this neighborhood,
he had better send up a bar'l of something to drink,
and he sent word he'd do it; he said that the `South was
in danger,' and he'd do any thing but bribe, to get to Congress.
I sent after the bar'l the very morning of the day
it was wanted, by lazy Jim, and would you believe it, the

[figure description] Page 127.[end figure description]

whiskey didn't get here till night,” and Toadvine assumed
a look of innocence and regret.

“And so,” said Price, helping himself to another glass,
“you had the whole left on your hands?”

“Nuthen else,” chuckled Toadvine, and, as if unable
to restrain himself longer, and either from the effect of the
liquor, or the remembrance of the trick he played upon a
candidate for Congress, he kicked his heels in the air and
laughed until the tears came in his eyes.

“But didn't the General smell a rat?” inquired Price,
in a deprecating voice, “didn't he find out how you fixed
it?”

“Not a bit of it,” said Toadvine, “for I saw the General
coming down the road the next day, so I staked down
lazy Jim by the side of the fence, and commenced on him
just as the General rode up. The nigger hollered “Oh,
lord, Massa Toadvine, have mercy!' `Yes,' said I, not
noticing the General, `I'll have mercy, you infernal scoundrel,
for delaying on the road yesterday with that whiskey.
I'll teach you to fool away your time, when you are on Gen.
Blatherskite's business.”

“`On whose business?' said the General, reining up
his horse, and looking astonished; `are you flogging that
nigger on my account, Mr. Toadvine?'”

“`Yes, General,' said I, looking very angry, `this
nigger was sent for the whiskey, to treat your friends at
“Clay gut,” and he managed to get back after the voting
was over.'”

“`Well, never mind!' said the General, `just keep it
to drink my health with!' and he rode away; but whar was

[figure description] Page 128.[end figure description]

the difference?” said Toadvine, speculatively; “you know,
the General got the licker on tick, and he'd challenge any
man that sent him a bill.”

At this point in the conversation, a tall, likely-looking
negro was seen approaching the house, from the field; he
carried his hoe jauntily across his shoulder. In coming
into the surrounding inclosure, he was obliged to pass
through a gate, always placed near the overseer's dwelling.

“Whar you going?” said Toadvine; and springing
into the yard, and whirling his whip over his head, he
brought it down on the negro's back, simultaneous with his
question, “whar you going, you black devil? did I not
tell you to stay in the field?”

“Master James,” said the negro, with humility, mixed
with astonishment, while still writhing under the pain of
the blow; “I cum'd home because Mistress wanted I to
clar up de yard, you knows I wouldn't leave de gang,
'cept on permission.”

“I knows nothing of the kind,” sneered Toadvine, in
the negro's face; “I know nothing, except that you are a
sneaking, skulking scoundrel; but I'll catch you, my man,—
I'll catch you! and by the —, if I get a chance at
your hide, I'll peel you cleaner than you ever did a possum!
now go and clear up the yard;” and Toadvine struck
at the boy again; but with surprising agility Jack avoided
the blow, and disappeared.

“There's insurrection for you,” snarled out Toadvine,
in a perfect fit of rage, at the same time storming up and
down the yard; “there's a nigger that his master says I

[figure description] Page 129.[end figure description]

mustn't whip, and he takes advantage of it, to defy me to
my face.”

Price looked on coolly, apparently uninterested; at
any rate he expressed no surprise, but let Toadvine exhaust
himself, in giving wordy expressions to his feelings;
and then, from a wild flower growing near by, with a well
aimed mouthful of tobacco juice, he knocked a bumble-bee
on the ground, and spoke as follows:—

“Toadvine, circumvent that nigger; just teach him
you are a warmer friend to him than his master. Don't
strike him, as you did just now, in anger, and without a
cause,—have a reason, and then work at his hide, like a
saw-mill.”

“But I can't get a reason,” said Toadvine, groaning
under his impotency; “he won't give me half a chance.”

“Well, make a chance,” whined out the sapient Colonel.
“You know 'fore I come to Moreton's, I overseed for
old Captain Berks; well, you see Berks hadn't any but
old family niggers, as he called 'em,—and one, that nussed
him when he was a boy, he was particularly nice of—that
was a nigger, sure; why hog and hominy was too good for
him. `Now,' said old Berks to me, said he, “Colonel
Price, that boy I have know'd ever since I was a child; he
carried me 'bout 'fore I could walk, and saved me from
drowning at ten years old. That nigger,' continued
Berks, `cut the fust stick on this yere plantation, and he
mustn't be whipped, on no account.'

“Old Berks hadn't been to Connecticut to school,
when he gave that order,” continued Price, winking knowingly
at Toadvine; “'twarn't done for fear, neither, for

[figure description] Page 130.[end figure description]

old Berks wasn't to be sceared; but it was jest done because
old Jeff could fool his master, and I know'd it; so
things went on very well, until I couldn't sleep contented,
until I took a little concait out of Jeff; but for a reason.

“One night we was weighing cotton, and up walked Big
Bill, a thick-lipped scoundrel as there was on the place;
he put his basket on the scales, and, by the hokey, it went
over three hundred. `Well done!' said old Berks, in
ecstasy, `well done, Big Bill; and now,' said the old
man, sort of funny like, `as you have picked fifty pounds
more than usual, you can call at the store room, and get a
pair of shoes.' Big Bill laughed—old Berks laughed—
and I stuck my hand into the cotton basket, and pulled
out two water-melons, weighing 'bout thirty-nine pounds.

“At this,” continued Price, rubbing his hands in glee,
and giving the poor bumble-bee another shower of tobacco
juice, “at this, old Berks, who was a `little tight,' got
into a passion; he swore such ungenerous and outrageous
conduct, on the part of his niggers, would break his heart,
and if I didn't give Big Bill `forty,' he would dismiss
me from the place, and administer the medicine himself.

“So said I, pretending to be hurt with his severity,
said I, `Captain Berks, them's family niggers.' `I don't
care,' shouted the old man (the brandy, I think, getting the
upper hand of him); `I don't care, family or no family; a
fellow that would swindle on one side, and rob my melon
patch on the other, shall be flogged. I'd tie up Jeff thar,
much as I think of him,' said Berks, `if he'd do such a
thing.' `You would,' said I, pretending to be astonished.
`Yes, I would,' said old Berks, towering; `if you ever

[figure description] Page 131.[end figure description]

catch Jeff trying to palm off a water-melon for seed-cotton,
give him forty.'”

As Price concluded this interesting story, he deliberately
walked past Toadvine, who was standing, a perfect
monument of mystified surprise, and, mounting his horse,
appeared as if he was thus unceremoniously going to ride
away.

“And what about Jeff?” finally asked the perplexed
and rather dull overseer.

“Oh nothing,” replied Price, carelessly, “only the
next night, thar was a water melon in Jeff's basket, and
every nigger on the place see'd it, and he was given `forty,'
and I think it tuck him six weeks to get out of the hospital.”

Toadvine, as he watched the retreating form of his
friend, Colonel Price, seemed suddenly inspired with unusual
spirits; he cracked his whip in scientific flourishes,
and going into his cabin, he stuck a loaded pistol in his
belt, took a drink of whiskey, locked up the decanter,
and remarking, “that Colonel Price is smart, and that
water-melon trick was beautiful,” he mounted his shaggy
pony, and was soon lost in the distance, as he rode towards
the slave gang, at work in the field.

As Col. Price reached the main road on his way home,
he came up with a small, sandy-faced, light-haired man,
mounted on a “creole pony,” and followed by five or six
fierce-looking hounds; a double-barrelled gun was balanced
before him, and he carried in his hand a raw-hide whip.

“How do you do, Stubbs?” said the colonel, riding

[figure description] Page 132.[end figure description]

up, and shaking hands with the man, “whar you going to-day?”

“Just nosing about,” said Stubbs, whipping off one
or two dogs, that would occasionally show their teeth at
Col. Price's nether limbs.

“Who's got any niggers out, now?” continued the
Colonel, for he took a great interest in Stubbs's occupation.

“Enough out,” replied Stubbs, “but no 'rangement
made for catching 'em. I'm done,” he continued, “a fetching
runaways home, just for jail fees; 'twont keep up my
pack, and pay expenses.”

“That's right, Stubbs!” said the Colonel, looking approvingly
on his friend; “that's right! if these rich
planters won't `antee up,' dont help 'em, that's my notion;
but who's that ahead?” asked Price, as he discovered a
young person on horseback, waiting in the road.

“That's young Finch,” said Stubbs, without showing
any surprise; “that boy,” he continued, “does take more
interest in a nigger hunt than my dogs do, and he's just
waiting thar, until I come up, in hopes that he can see a
`brush.'”

Price and Stubbs shook hands with Finch, a youth
perhaps of fourteen, who was armed not only with a gun,
but had a bowie knife sticking ostentatiously out of his
breast. A little general conversation ensued, when Stubbs
and Finch, opening a plantation gate, bade Col. Price
“good day,” and commenced trotting through the “cotton
rows” towards the dark cypress swamps, that loomed up,
like mountains in the distance.

“And what do you think, Stubbs, will be our chance

[figure description] Page 133.[end figure description]

of starting up something this evening?” asked young
Finch, at the same time impatiently urging on his horse.

“Bad, very bad,” said Stubbs; “none is out in this
range now, but Busteed's old Phil; the fact is,” said
Stubbs, reining up his horse, “my dogs has got such a
scear on the niggers now, that they won't run away,—the
overseer has only to say, `Now boys, if I cotch any of you
leavin' you'll have Stubbs' dogs after you,' and that ends
the thing. I ought to get a big price for doing that,” suggested
Stubbs, conscious that he was the victim of unrewarded
merit.

“And how did you know, Stubbs, that old Phil was in
the brake?” inquired the young man.

“'Cause I saw him yesterday, while `still hunting;'
come right on him, turned up on his back, sound asleep.”

“And why didn't you make him go home?” asked the
lad, with some asperity.

Now Stubbs had been led into an unfortunate remark,
which he perceived the instant he had spoken, for he affected
only to use his dogs when all other means of capture
had failed; and he was afraid that Finch would get an
idea that such was not the case; so he assumed a familiar
air, and explained himself as follows:—

“You see, Charley, I was a `still-hunting,' as I said,
and looking for deer, and in wading Turtle Creek, for I was
a-foot, you mind, I got my powder wet, and what could I
do with such a fellow as Phil, if he had a mind to resist?
No, no, Charley, I'm more careful than to track runaways,
'cept I `am prepared,' so I tuck the best course I could,
marked his den, and when he hears the `barkers' after

[figure description] Page 134.[end figure description]

him, he'll run straight home, sound as a nut, and no harm
done to any body.”

“That was very considerate,” said young master Finch,
evidently much flattered by Stubbs' manner; “it was very
considerate indeed, and I think Busteed should be very
much obliged to you.”

“To be sure he should!” echoed Stubbs, “and all
the planters should; why, sir, but for me, the swamps
would be as full of niggers as they is of wild hogs. I get
badly paid for my sarvices, Mr. Finch, considerin' I have
to feed my own dogs, and take the risks I run.”

“And what risks do you run?” inquired young Finch,
carelessly patting his spirited little horse on the neck, and
giving his gun a juster balance, as it rested before him on
the pommel of the saddle.

“Why, a heap of risks,” said Stubbs, with the air of
an injured man; “do you suppose that the niggers can be
tuck, and nothing to do but say, `If you please, Mr. Darkee,
your master wants you hum?' Oh, no! I've known
shooting and slashing going on afore now, that would hurt
any man's feelins.”

“And where was that?” inquired young Finch, with
greedy interest.

“Why you see,” said Stubbs, “that two or three
years agone, old Duckeye, that's a preacher now, and Bill
Blass as was, afore he died, both kept dogs,—well, once
they were out huntin', and it seems their packs closed in
on the same nigger,—I'm told that their cry was beautiful,
when, as they say at camp-meetin', they met, and jined
their voices in harmonious song; but Blass's hounds had

[figure description] Page 135.[end figure description]

the heels; they was of the old `Ryder stock,' and they
just run over Duckeye's dogs, and left them in the rear.
I think the nigger they was arter belonged to old Gray;
he could scratch gravel, that nigger, and double, and turn,
like any fox,—the chase was beautiful. Now, as might be
supposed, Blass's pack drew the fust blood, and had the
nigger down, when Duckeye's dogs come up.

“The row was tremendous, and they would have sent
the nigger to kingdom cum, if the dogs, being strangers,
had not got to fighting among themselves. There was a
hullaboloo, sure enough; I was on the spot the next day,
and the palmetto was smoothed down for a half acre, whar
the fight was. While the dogs was going it among themselves,
and the darkee was crying and yelling, old Duckeye
and Blass got to quarrelling about who caught the nigger;
Blass contendin', as was right, that as his dogs gin the
first grab, the nigger was his. Duckeye stuck out that his
dogs was fust to find the trail, so the nigger was his,—and
so they got to swearing and scrimmaging, and tucking into
each other their bowies, and yelling and cursing, the
the dogs fell on 'em both, and such a row ensued as never
was afore.

“In this beautiful difficulty, the nigger got clean off,
and Blass got stobbed in the side, and died that 'ere
very night; and so you see, Mr. Finch, that the infernal
runaways is dangerous. I often think of Blass!” said
Stubbs, mournfully, “for you see,” wiping his eyes with his
coat sleeve, “that that 'ere dog thar, with the blood-shot
eyes, was own nephy to Blass's Cuba, raised and imported
Santy Christy, as Blass called him.”

[figure description] Page 136.[end figure description]

“Well, that was surprising,” said young Finch, looking
with admiration at the dog, that had such a distinguished
uncle; and at the same time somewhat confounded
by the conglomeration of Stubbs' story; “but how was
it,” he inquired, “that Duckeye got off from the —”
and Finch hesitated to give a name to the deed pictured
in his mind.

“— the stobbing,” said Stubbs. Finch nodded yes
to the suggestion, and Stubbs went on— “you see the
grand jury had Duckeye up, two or three times, but whar
was the witnesses; it was agin the law to use the dogs and
the niggers to swar agin a white man in court, so the matter
drapped.”

At this moment the two horsemen and their canine
followers entered the thick woods, and in course of the
fleeting hour, Busteed's old Phil was roused from his lair,
and there were to be heard the sharp ringing notes of the
open-mouthed pack, as they engaged in “the spirit stirring
hunt.”

p726-146 CHAPTER XII. THE PROMISED VISIT.

[figure description] Page 137.[end figure description]

Mildmay and Annie set out for Mr. Moreton's, soon after
breakfast; the day was so fine, that it was agreed that the
journey should be made on horseback, and that on the way,
Annie should ride through the plantation, and gratify her
wishes at the sight of her husband's luxuriant fields.

At the time of starting, the little negroes, who had
come in from “the quarters,” arranged themselves in a
row along the avenue of the lawn, and as Annie passed,
they bowed their comical-looking heads, and said, “Goo'
by, Mistress!” “Goo' by, Master!” and then, as if overcome
with their familiarity, they gave a universal laugh,
and went trooping off behind the house, Ponce de Leon,
with a half malicious, and half mischievous spirit, knocking
a majority of them over on the green sward, by joining
in the scramble.

Meanwhile Governor had opened the gate, and Mildmay
and Annie passed through, and pursued their way
down the road, the servant following at a respectful

[figure description] Page 138.[end figure description]

distance in the rear. Scarcely had this been accomplished,
before Ponce de Leon, having finished his gambols with
the negro children, discovered the cavalcade moving away
without him. With a rush that would have done honor to
a race-horse, he sped across the lawn, and fairly flew over
the palings, and in another moment, was barking and coquetting
around Annie's horse.

“I will be more careful hereafter, Ponce,” said Annie,
laughing, and glancing at her favorite, “how I let you
into my secrets; for, do you know,” she said, looking at
Mildmay, “that I believe some dogs have the quality of
intelligence.”

“There cannot be a doubt of it,” he returned, interested
with the suggestion, “and there is nothing to disprove
that they may not even have a future, though still humble
existence.”

“You have improved, Graham, amazingly, upon my
speculation,” said Annie gayly.

“Perhaps so, but you will admit that there is something
truly poetical in the wild dream of the American
aborigine, where he spiritualizes his future existence; no
heathen mythology has given us a purer and more attractive
picture than the Indian and his dog, side by side, in
the happy hunting-grounds.”

“True, very true,” returned Annie, “and more's the pity,
that so noble a race could not be preserved by civilization.”

“Pity indeed, but it is impossible to preserve the Indian.
In the wild woods, and away from artificial influences,
he flourishes like these mighty forest trees, through

[figure description] Page 139.[end figure description]

which we wind our way; but like these trees, if transplanted
or disturbed by cultivation, must wither away.”

“It's a sad picture,” said Annie, thoughtfully; “but,”
she added, “I like their consistency after all, for with the
Indian it is indeed `liberty or death.'”

“Hurrah,” said Mildmay, with playful exultation, “hurrah
for Annie Hastings! who, though so little, is so very
brave; she will yet be the mother of heroes.”

“I will beat you in a fair race to the field gate,” said
Annie, blushing, and pushing her heretofore lingering palfrey
into a gallop, away she sped, Mildmay gallantly following
just in the rear, with Ponce de Leon, crazy with
excitement, far in the van.

As the equestrians came up to the inclosure, Jack, who
had seen them approaching, was at the gate to open it, and
as the party passed in, he gave them a salute of genuine
feeling, which Annie said “was delightful to behold.”

“You can shut up de gate yousef,” said Jack, as Governor,
with an air intended to be much more impressive than
his master's, was about riding on, unheeding his sable
fellow-servant.

“Oh sartin,” said Governor, wheeling round his pony,
and giving the gate a swing that sent it to with a crash;
and then turning to Jack a look of assumed contempt, he
remarked:—

“Some indiwiduals don't suppose that field darkies can
learn to open and shut a gate at de same time,—it would
be too much for dis world,” and Governor was so delighted
with his own wit, that he nearly fell off of his horse from
laughing.

[figure description] Page 140.[end figure description]

“Mabee not,” said Jack, seizing his hoe and working
away furiously in the soft ground; “mabee not,” he repeated,
his face brightening into a broad grin, and then without
any conceivable reason, except an exuberance of animal
spirits, he broke into a guffaw, not only louder than Governor's
explosion, but so terrific, that it set the crows flying at
the time high over head, cawing with alarm.

At this moment a little negress passed by with a pail
of water on her head, which she was carrying to the gang
in the field. Mildmay filled the gourd that was floating on
the top, and offered it to Annie, which she playfully refused.

“I see, Annie,” said Mildmay, most liberally helping
himself, “that you cannot get accustomed to a gourd,—
but, according to my ideas, it is the only goblet that truly
accords in simplicity with the gently gurgling spring.”

The sun, as it rose higher in the heavens, began to
pour down with intensity, and Mildmay, perceiving that
Annie was suffering from the heat, suggested more rapid
progress, and the two struck into a “lope,” which was continued
for a long distance without interruption.

Upon reaching their destination, it was a grateful relief
to receive the protecting shade of the heavy walls and
overhanging verandahs of the mansion.

Mrs. Moreton met Annie with unusual pleasure marked
upon her face, and Aunt Margaret was so delighted,
that she not only shook both her hands affectionately, but
kissed her on her cheek.

The children, with their nurses, presented themselves
one after another, and it seemed to Annie, in the confusion,

[figure description] Page 141.[end figure description]

that a child and a negro were so strangely identified, that
it was difficult to imagine them apart.

“Let us have some water here,” said Mr. Moreton,
looking about generally, after himself and Mildmay had
seated themselves, and the ladies had retired to a distant
part of the house.

Now Mildmay was exceedingly thirsty, and so appeared
Mr. Moreton; but although there were great numbers
of negroes moving about the premises, presenting
themselves and then disappearing like puppets in a show,
still no water came. Finally Mr. Moreton lost all patience,
and with a loud voice cried out:

“John—David—Mary—Jefferson—Wash, why don't
somebody bring some water here?”

Still the negroes moved about, as if unconscious of
hearing any order, and Mr. Moreton jumped up, and was
about getting into a passion, when Aunt Margaret met him
at the door, and in a mild voice said:

“Brother, did I hear you call?”

“Certainly you did,” said Mr. Moreton, sitting back
in his chair nearly exhausted.

Aunt Margaret singled out one of the many idlers in
view, and gave the required directions, and almost instantly
she was obeyed.

“I forgot to ask you, Mr. Mildmay,” said Moreton, taking
up his glass, “I forgot to ask if you would have any
thing with your water. I have myself so long given up the
habit of indulging in any thing `strong,' with the temperate
exceptions of occasionally at dinner, that I fear I have appeared
regardless of the rites of hospitality.”

[figure description] Page 142.[end figure description]

“Not at all,” said Mildmay promptly, “I have, I am
sorry to say, formed a liking for a good cigar, which desire
I gratify, but beyond that, I am careful not to tax my
strength by unnecessary stimulants.”

“Bring some cigars here,” cried Mr. Moreton from
habit, and then catching the eye of the servant holding the
salver and pitcher, he said:

“Viney, bring those cigars here, from off the parlor
mantel-piece.”

The girl obeyed, and presented Mildmay with the box,
but he declined smoking for the time being, and the two
gentlemen again seating themselves, seemed disposed to
enter upon conversation, as persons who had a great deal
to say, and more than sufficient time to say it in.

Annie was shown to a room splendid in size, in the centre
of which was an enormous French bedstead, and on the
side the familiar armoire. A tidy-looking, petted servant
stood at her elbow, ready to do her slightest bidding.
Laying aside a coquettish sun-bonnet, which she preferred
to use in the middle of the day, when out on horseback,
to the more showy riding cap that Mildmay had
provided her with, she sat down in a comfortable chair, and
submitted to the ordeal of examination from the distended
eyes of her sable attendant.

“What's your name?” said Annie to the girl, to relieve
herself from the embarrassment of being an object of
so much undisguised interest.

“My name is Violet, Missus.”

“Violet?” repeated Annie; “you were named after a

[figure description] Page 143.[end figure description]

very pretty flower,” she continued, absolutely confused for
something to say.

“Not after a flower, Missus,” said Violet, quite flattered
by the notice she received; “I was done named after
Master's old nurse.”

At this moment the door of the room opened and Aunt
Margaret presented herself, and with a winning smile she
desired Annie to go with her to Mrs. Moreton's room.

Mrs. Moreton, at the moment of Annie's entrance, was
giving directions to a negress how to sew up a seam in a
coarse capote or blanket coat, and near by on the floor, sat
two more negresses busy at the same work.

After the cordial salutations of meeting, “You see, Mrs.
Mildmay,” said Mrs. Moreton, “one of the tasks imposed
upon the mistress of a plantation. You would scarcely believe,”
she continued, “that I have cut out and superintended
the making of thirty of these heavy garments this
season.”

“Thirty!” said Annie, with undisguised amazement:
“and can you, Mrs. Moreton, with your delicate hands, do
so much?”

“It would seem so,” said that lady, looking up and
smiling; “I wish this work was the least unpleasant of my
many duties.”

“Well,” said Annie, “as I am ambitious to be a good
wife, I must learn to make them myself,” and she took one
of the heavy coats in her hands.

“Not to-day,” said Aunt Margaret, taking the garment
gently away, “not to-day, but some other time.”

“I will show you presently,” said the lady, still

[figure description] Page 144.[end figure description]

occupied by her duties, “Mr. Moreton's preparations for
weaving and spinning; he finds such labor very useful and
profitable for the women on a large plantation who are too
delicate to be out in rainy days.”

“And do you really spin and weave?” said Annie, with
interest.

“Certainly,” said Mrs. Moreton, and she added, “Clotilde,
show Mrs. Mildmay your dress.” (The girl held out
the side of her garment for Annie's inspection.) “We,”
she continued, “clothe all our hands in homespun; it is
much better cloth than that which we buy.”

“And is this the universal custom?” said Annie,
becoming very much interested.

“Most generally,” said Mrs. Moreton, “in old settled
communities.”

At this moment there burst through the curtains that
hung over the door a little girl, crying out, “Where's
Aunt Margy?” and spinning round the room like a top,
and running against tables and chairs, she came to a stand
still, directly opposite where Annie was sitting.

“Why, Toots,” said Aunt Margaret to the child,
“where have you been this last half hour?”

“Down to the cotton-gin,—see all the corn-mill, and
mules, and the wheels go round and round, and never stop
'till a minute,” replied Toots, with a rapidity of speech
truly astonishing.

“Do take that little minx out of the room, Minnie,”
said Mrs. Moreton, looking at one of the negro girls near
her; “for that child always sets me crazy with her noise.”

“Toots won't set any body crazy with her noise,—she

[figure description] Page 145.[end figure description]

will be a good girl, and be 'till,—not do nossin at all;”
and having delivered herself of this speech, Toots commenced
dancing up and down, singing with a loud voice,
each time her little feet struck on the floor.

It was very plain that Aunt Margaret was delighted,
and as Toots for a moment was still, she said,

“Go and shake hands with Mrs. Mildmay, Toots.”

The little perpetual-motion eyed Annie for a moment
with amusing interest, and then with the quickness of
thought rushed forward, jumped into Annie's lap, threw
her arms round her neck, and said,

“How you get such curls all down your face?—how you
come to our house?—how much you love Toots?” and
the little thing clapped her hands and laughed, and crowed
in a perfect ecstasy of delight.

“Why,” said Annie, overcome with astonishment and
gratified surprise, “does this child go on this way all
the time?”

“Yes, all the time,” said Mrs. Moreton, dwelling on
the all; “and I believe she is never still, even when
asleep.”

“Toots very 'till,” said the child with much solemnity;
and she then broke out a loud chirrup, as follows.

“Davy,” said Aunt Margaret, her eyes sparkling with
delight.

“Gavy,” said Toots, with gravity.

“Davy,—goose,” repeated Aunt Margaret.

[figure description] Page 146.[end figure description]

“Vife's name Kitty, and child's name Davy Goose,”
said Toots, breaking into a loud laugh, and throwing her
head back on Annie's shoulder.

“Minnie, take Toots out in the yard, I say,” said Mrs.
Moreton, putting her hand to her forehead, as if suffering
from a severe pain in the head.

“No, Minnie shan't take Toots,” said the child, springing
from Annie's lap, and running to Aunt Margaret;
“Toots set dog on Minnie, and Pa'll give Minnie `forty,'—
and then Toots broke out into an unintelligible song,
mingled with imitations of all the noises heard in the
poultry-yard; and finding that her mother was really getting
serious, she suddenly calmed down, and walking up to
one of the negro girls that was at work on the capotes, she
said,

“Toots want needlers, — Toots show;” and having
been accommodated with a needle and thread, she went
through the pantomime of biting off the end of the thread,
making a knot, and looking seriously at every one about
her; but finding it impossible to remain quiet, she commenced
dancing up and down, and just as her mother was
within an inch of seizing her dress, she glided away, and
was heard paddling down stairs, laughing, hallooing, at
the, as she supposed, really ineffectual attempts of one of
the servants to arrest her progress.

Annie was so amused at Toots, that, in spite of herself,
she was obliged to give way to hearty laughter.

“Oh,” said Mrs. Moreton, laying down her work, and
looking at Annie with a most injured expression, “if you

[figure description] Page 147.[end figure description]

could really imagine how difficult it is to exist with that
child in the house, you would pity me.”

“Why,” said Annie, wiping tears from her eyes,
“Mrs. Moreton, you are indeed to be pitied, for I think
Toots would even kill me.”

“I'll go and see that that dear child has something to
eat,” said Aunt Margaret, leaving the room; and upon going
down stairs, she found Toots running across the lawn,
with a piece of poundcake in one hand, and a stick in the
other, chasing a large number of awkward goslings head-over-heels
before her.

p726-157 CHAPTER XIII. EVERY-DAY INCIDENTS.

[figure description] Page 148.[end figure description]

Although Moreton and Mildmay had frequently met at
Beechland, and on the highway, they really were but little
acquainted with each other. Mr. Moreton was ceremonious
when out of his own house, and Mildmay had
found constant occupation on his plantation; and, with
Annie's society, had no particular inducement to go
abroad,—so, although Mr. Moreton and Mildmay sat
down together with the mutual idea of being pleased with
each other's society, yet it was nevertheless true, that the
emotions of sympathy were yet to be called forth by the
interchange of harmonious thoughts.

A few moments' conversation only had taken place
before Mr. Moreton and Mildmay, to their own astonishment,
found that they differed on every interchange of
sentiment; and as Mr. Moreton, living as he did in a
somewhat solitary place, had, by long association with his
negroes, become, insensibly to himself, restive under contradiction,
although respectfully offered, and from one he
acknowledged an equal; still his abruptness of manner at

[figure description] Page 149.[end figure description]

first caused Mildmay to yield in silence, and then to differ
from Mr. Moreton even beyond the natural bent of his
true feelings.

“I think that this custom that prevails with some
Southern people of sending their children to the North to
be educated is decidedly wrong, and very ridiculous,” said
Mr. Moreton, with great emphasis of manner.

“I must beg to differ with you again,” said Mildmay,
quietly, “for I have found not only the Northern colleges
excellent as literary institutions, but useful, in giving the
collateral advantage of acquaintance with the social and
commercial character of our brethren of the whole Union.”

“I don't see the advantage you speak of,” returned
Moreton, energetically; “we send our young men on to
the North, and they come back with their heads crammed
full of literary trash, and Southern institutions are made
distasteful to them: I think it ruins them altogether.”

“I haven't found such to be my experience,” said Mildmay,
for the instant annoyed.

“I beg your pardon, sir,” said Moreton, slightly coloring;
“but the fact is, I forgot, in my knowledge of your
Southern birth and interests, that you had ever seen the
North; so you must excuse me, for I don't in my own
mind identify you with the Yankees.”

“But I have shown great willingness myself to be
identified with them,” said Mildmay, laughing; “for,” he
continued, “the best half of me is the very pith of the
Mayflower stock.”

“True, true,” said Mr. Moreton, his natural gallantry
getting the better of his prejudices; “and I wish such rare

[figure description] Page 150.[end figure description]

infusions were more frequent: but you will admit, my
dear Mildmay,” continued he, after a pause, “that the
tendency of Northern colleges are anti-Southern in their
influence.”

“Not necessarily so,” said Mildmay, with decision
“for,” he continued, “out of three hundred students I
was associated with at Malden, most of whom were Yankees,
and to the manner born, there were but two avowed
abolitionists; and what is most remarkable, one of those
insanities is now an editor of a secession paper in South
Carolina, and the other a school teacher in Georgia, publishing
addresses cautioning the planters of the South
against using New England primers, lest they get unconsciously
infected with abolition sentiments in spelling English
words.”

“Well, there,” said Moreton, whirling around upon his
chair and snapping his fingers in triumph, “don't you see,
Mr. Mildmay, by your own showing, something contemptible
in the —,” and Moreton stopped.

“You were going to say, `New England character,'”
suggested Mildmay, smiling; “but, I see nothing of the
kind in my illustration, and these two young men that I
speak of, are mere time-servers. They thought that anti-slavery
sentiments would help their personal interests in
Connecticut, and so they adopted them. Finishing their
education, they went South, and, always consistent, they
flatter the pro-slavery feeling among us, and are as heartless
and unprincipled and dangerous in their new vocation,
as they were in their old; and,” continued Mildmay, his
eyes flashing fire, “I loathe and despise such cowardly

[figure description] Page 151.[end figure description]

creatures; they are a disgrace when compared with the
lowest standards of man.”

“I never had any other feeling for them,” said Mr.
Moreton, with complacency.

“You will pardon me, sir,” said Mildmay, “if I say, that
this truckling to interest, this sacrifice of conscience and
truth, is not peculiar to New England, or New England
men. I think I meet parallel examples sometimes in my
visits to Beechland. I see hypocrites at our doors, for I mistrust
the sincerity of all men, who, owning no negroes themselves,
are violent in defence of our peculiar institutions.”

“I never took that view of it,” said Moreton, rising, and
walking rapidly up and down the gallery; “perhaps you
are right.”

“I know that I am right,” said Mildmay; “look,” he
continued, “at the burnings and lynchings of negroes,
which have disgraced the fair fame of the South, and it
will be found that the planters, the men of wealth and
education, have rarely been participators—the deeds were
done by irresponsible men, who owned no negroes themselves,
but who thus gratified their unholy passions, through
the corrupt idea, that their excessive zeal gave evidence of
devotion to Southern interests.”

“Mildmay, I believe that what you say is true,” said
Moreton, stopping in his walk, and falling into a brown
study, and then thrown off his guard by Mildmay's impressiveness—
“Now, I remember, in the Murrell excitement,
we tried an incendiary at Beechland, and Judge Lynch
sentenced him to be hung. But when the poor fellow was
on the gallows, no one would act as Jack Ketch, and the

[figure description] Page 152.[end figure description]

poor devil would have got off, had not a stranger in the
place, and himself suspected of abolition sentiments, adjusted
the rope, and launched the victim into eternity.”

“And, by this murder, the suspected individual appeased
the public sentiment against himself,” said Mildmay,
with emotion.

“Oh yes,” said Mr. Moreton, as if relieved from an
oppressive feeling,—“oh yes, and the man has lived in
Beechland ever since.”

“And would hang us to-morrow,” said Mildmay, with
disgust, “if the insurrection were against us. Upon such
wretched social materials, upon such a moral volcano, do
we slaveholders exist.”

As Mildmay concluded, Mr. Moreton absolutely fell
into his chair. Strange ideas had been awakened in his
mind,—thoughts that had slumbered for years, aroused. A
sort of desolate feeling came over him, the future looked
gloomy and uncertain, and for a moment he mentally groped
in darkness,—and then, brushing his hand across his brow,
he said:

“Mildmay, if we would happily live in the South,
we must not look so deeply and darkly upon the things
around us;” and with this remark, Mr. Moreton's thoughts
launched again into the current of life, allowing the present
only to occupy his mind; the future he carefully excluded.

Fortunately, to relieve both gentlemen of their embarrassment,
Col. Lee, the only person invited to dine with
the Moretons, on Mildmay's visit, was seen riding toward
the house; and by this exclusive invitation Mr. Moreton
intended to show Mildmay the high esteem he placed

[figure description] Page 153.[end figure description]

upon his visit, for Col. Lee was presumed only to honor with
his company people of admitted pretensions, for he claimed
for himself, to be one of the “first families of Virginia,”
and consequently was aristocratic to the last degree.

The moment that Moreton caught sight of the Colonel,
he walked out upon the lawn and met that gentleman half
way, and accompanied him into the house. The Colonel
had evidently determined to make an impression. He saluted
Mildmay with a courteous dignity, such as Washington
may have been presumed to use on great state occasions,
and before he had well seated himself, a servant was
already by his side, with a salver containing liqueurs, and
a pitcher of cool water.

Col. Lee helped himself to a glass of wine, and turning
to Moreton and Mildmay, he expressed his pleasure at seeing
them both looking so well, trusted that the ladies were in
good health, and that Mrs. Mildmay found the climate of
Louisiana to agree with her constitution; and, tossing off
his wine, he remarked complacently,

“Moreton, you have the most excellent water on your
place. I know of none so good in the neighborhood. It is a
great blessing to have good water,” and thereupon the
Colonel begged to be excused, as he was quite thirsty
from riding in the dust, and he helped himself again to the
sherry, and then seated himself in an elegant attitude,
and seemed to be prepared to receive admiration of his
personal appearance, and to listen patiently to hear any remarks
that might be made in conversation.

The moment that Col. Lee took his seat, Mr. Moreton
brightened up, and a lively conversation ensued, in which

[figure description] Page 154.[end figure description]

Mildmay became interested, from the novelty of the ideas
constantly presented, although they were not always in
accordance with his manner of thinking.

As Mr. Moreton had a large family, the subject of
education was a source of constant reflection; and as
the exchange of ideas progressed, Mr. Moreton, unintentionally
to himself, made some of his favorite remarks against
Northern institutions of learning, when Colonel Lee, perceiving
that Mildmay had differed with Moreton on their
merits, broke out into a eulogistic defence of Southern
Colleges, and wound up by a graphic description of the
“Virginia University,” an institution, he said, that was the
fountain of chivalry, of profound scholarship, and statesmanship;
and gradually progressing, he gave many anecdotes of
the amusements of the students, and described with inimitable
humor, a cock-fight, that took place one evening
in “the chapel,” in which one of the professors lost to him
nearly a half gallon of brandy, besides a box of the best
Spanish cigars.

Mrs. Moreton had scarcely gone through the pantomime
of showing Annie, rather than telling her, how very distracting
Toots' noise was to her head, when a negro presented
herself at Mrs. Moreton's door, and, making a low
courtesy, said:

“Mistress, Aunt Dinah's done got worse.”

“One of your servants sick?” said Annie.

“Yes,” replied Mrs. Moreton, putting on a light shawl,
“one of our most valuable women has had `the fever,' and
it seems impossible to break it,” and as Mrs. Moreton said
this she opened an armoire door, and after fumbling among

[figure description] Page 155.[end figure description]

various vials and papers, she took something in her hand,
and excusing herself to Annie, was about to leave the room,
when she turned and said: “Mrs. Mildmay, perhaps you
would like to walk down to the quarters with me.”

Annie at the instant hearing the voice of her husband
and Mr. Moreton on the front gallery, as if engaged in an
interesting conversation, at once assented, and at Mrs.
Moreton's suggestion, put on a large sun-bonnet that was
lying near by in a chair. Thus equipped, she and Mrs.
Moreton proceeded down stairs and passed into the yard
back of the house, a number of little negroes instantly presenting
themselves, who ran ahead and opened the garden
gates.

The buildings occupied by Mr. Moreton's negroes, were
quite a feature of his plantation. When he first moved
upon it, he found nothing but a few `log pens.' One of
them he fitted up for himself and wife, for he had no children
at that time; and as soon as he got somewhat settled
his first improvements consisted in the erection of sixteen
commodious cabins, that were in equal numbers arranged in
two parallel lines, making what appeared to be the begining
of a handsome street. At the head was built a large
double cabin, with a spacious verandah, as the house of the
overseer. These buildings finished, Mr. Moreton continued
for a long time to reside in his now, by contrast, still
more humble hut, and he became for a while quite famous
for furnishing his negroes better houses than he himself
occupied.

“Have you had much sickness on your place?” inquired
Mrs. Moreton, as she walked along.

[figure description] Page 156.[end figure description]

“Some,” said Annie, hesitatingly, “but I have never
seen any myself.”

“Is it possible?” returned Mrs. Moreton; “how
have you been so fortunate?” she asked, with a face expressive
of surprise.

“Why, I have never been told by Mr. Mildmay that I
should go to the quarters on such occasions, and I am sure
I would not volunteer.”

“I have been accustomed from my childhood up,” half
musingly said Mrs. Moreton, “to nurse with my own hands
the sick.—I did it on my father's place, and have continued
to do it ever since I was married to Mr. Moreton.” As
the lady concluded, she, with Annie, stepped into Aunt
Dinah's cabin.

In a room sixteen by twenty feet in size, and destitute
of furniture, save a very rude bedstead, the frame of which
was nailed against the wall, lay stretched out the form of
the patient—of the sick Dinah.

Annie drew back with considerable dread, when she
first looked into the cabin of the slave, but seeing Mrs.
Moreton enter, and with the most sympathetic manner,
proceed at once to the bedside of the patient, she affected
to overcome her great repugnance and followed her
hostess.

“How do you feel, Dinah?” said her mistress, taking
the sick woman's hand unresistingly in her own.

The negress seemed to have fallen into a doze, and when
she opened her eyes, the astonishment she displayed was
unbounded, as she beheld not only her mistress, but the
delicate form of Annie bending over her.

[figure description] Page 157.[end figure description]

“What is the matter?” inquired Mrs. Moreton, with a
soothing voice.

“I done got berry sick,” said Dinah, still in wonder.

“Let me look at your tongue,” said Mrs. Moreton.

The negress did as she was desired, and Mrs. Moreton,
after a moment's speculation, said:

“Dinah, you have been eating something to make you
sick; I see it by your high fever, and believe it, because
little Ann gives me to understand you have been complaining
again of pain.”

“I ain't done eat nothin',” said the woman stolidly,
and giving a sigh, at the same time groaning and turning
her face to the wall.

Mrs. Moreton was not to be deceived. To Annie's surprise
she cross-questioned the woman, and again looked at
her tongue, and finally pressed her delicate fingers upon
the negress' chest.

“I see how it is,” said Mrs. Moreton finally, a shade of
regret passing over her face, “you have been to the water-melon
patch, and have likely killed yourself.”

“Aint done eat nothin,'” repeated Dinah.

Hasn't Dinah been eating water-melon?” said Mrs.
Moreton to little Ann, who just at that moment came into
the cabin.

“Only one, missis,” said the child.

Mrs. Moreton sat down at the foot of the dirty bed, as
if perfectly disheartened, and with a face full of feeling she
said to Annie:

“Mrs. Mildmay, I sat up nearly all last night with that
negress, and got her through a critical sickness, and now you

[figure description] Page 158.[end figure description]

see, by her own imprudence, my labor is lost, and perhaps
her life endangered,” and then turning to little Ann, she
said: “go over to the house, and tell your Mistress Margaret,
to send me the bottle of medicine I was using yesterday.”

“Yes 'em,” said little Ann, running out to perform the
errand.

“How came you to disobey me?” said Mrs. Moreton,
turning to the invalid.

“'Cause I had nothin' to eat,” gruffly replied the patient.

“Did you not,” said Mrs. Moreton, “get some soup to-day
that I made for you myself?”

“Never got nothin',” said the negress, growing still
more sullen.

“Ah me!” said Mrs. Moreton much annoyed, and turning
to Annie, she said:

“You will find, Mrs. Mildmay, after you have had my
experience, that a planter's wife is the greatest slave that
exists. If I don't see to every thing, all goes wrong. The
soup, that I prepared to-day with so much care for
this very negress, I have no doubt was eaten up by little
Ann.”

By this time, little Ann had returned, bringing Mrs.
Moreton's parasol.

“I did not send you for this,” said Mrs. Moreton, in
great vexation. “What did you tell Mistress Margaret I
wanted?”

“Something you done had yesterday, missis,” said

[figure description] Page 159.[end figure description]

little Ann, perfectly unconscious that she had made any
mistake.

“I see how it is,” remarked Mrs. Moreton, taking up
the parasol, “I shall have to go back to my room, and
either return myself or send down Aunt Margaret, or I
shall never be certain that what I desire is done aright,”
and wrapping her shawl around her, the two ladies walked
slowly home.

“I am sure,” said Annie, after they left the hearing
of the patient, “that I never can be so good a nurse as you.
Why, Mrs. Moreton,” she continued, “I cannot overcome
my repugnance to the blacks enough, to bear with comfort
the necessary presence of my servants, and I fear that
I could never be of use, by the side of those that are sick.”

“I never had such feelings,” said Mrs. Moreton, without
expressing the least emotion of curiosity or surprise.

The moment that the mistress and guest were gone,
Violet, who watched them from the chamber window, went
back into the room where she first met Annie, and taking
up that lady's bonnet she placed it upon her head, and
drawing the ears close down to her face, she surveyed the
effect with evident admiration. She next put on the riding
habit and throwing a shawl over her left arm, she gracefully
lifted the long skirt from about her feet, and commenced
a pantomime, in which was displayed with artistic perfection,
not only Annie's manner, but also Mrs. Moreton's, and
the nice distinction which Violet made in the characters,
as she carried on an imaginary conversation, could not be
excelled.

The “favorite servant” then leaned affectedly upon a

[figure description] Page 160.[end figure description]

high-backed arm-chair, and eyeing the red velvet of the
upright cushion with the most languishing expression, she
said: “Why, Mr. Mildmay, I am so fatigued, I'm mighty
glad we got to Mr. Moreton's, it's so very warm to-day;”
then throwing the shawl around her shoulders, she wrapped
it close to her person, and completely changing her voice,
she continued: “Really, I am so perfectly distracted with
the noise of the children, and the care of them miserable
idle servants, Mr. Moreton, that I shall certainly go crazy.”
Next falling into the chair and assuming a benign smile,
she turned towards the door and went on: “There, sister,
is that dear smart child again. Come here, Toots, don't
you see your mother is annoyed; come, go down with Aunt
Margaret and leave these unkind people,” and then jumping
up, in the imaginary person of Annie Mildmay, she
courteseyed around the room; until, perceiving her mistress
just at the entrance of the house, she hastily threw aside
her borrowed plumage, and met that lady in the great hall,
with a meekness and innocence of face, that was, perhaps,
the best piece of acting she performed throughout the day.

In the front door of the house stood Aunty, with the
baby. Aunty was a tall, ungainly-looking woman, but possessed
a fine expression of countenance, and had a voice
that sounded unusually cultivated for a negro.

As Annie attempted to pass on she was naturally attracted
to the infant, whose little dimpled hands and arms,
and innocent unformed face, formed a strong contrast with
its hard-visaged, sable nurse. Annie stopped short, and
raising both hands in admiration, exclaimed:

“The dear, dear, sweet little cherub.”

[figure description] Page 161.[end figure description]

Aunty smiled at this involuntary compliment to her
charge, as much as if it had been intended for herself, and
raised “the cherub” to give Annie a better view.

The baby's head rolled from side to side, on its little
shoulders, while its eyes stared out on vacancy, showing
that the mind had not yet lit up the clear pupil of black
and blue.

“The dear sweet cherub!” again exclaimed Annie, as
she buried the child in her flaxen curls.

“She's moughty sweet indeed!” finally ejaculated Aunty,
“dat child, young mistress, knows too much for her age.”

“Knows too much?” said Annie, laughing outright at
the very idea of such a thing.

“Why, sartain,” returned Aunty; “for dat are child
will set and study, and think all day; she's too smart entirely,
and,” concluded the faithful nurse, in a commiserating
voice, “if she don't stop a-doing it, she'll never make
old bones, sure and sartain.”

Again Annie gave the prematurely-wise infant another
kiss, and heartily amused at the enthusiasm of the old
negress, followed Mrs. Moreton to her room.

p726-171 CHAPTER XIV. THE HOSPITABLE BOARD.

[figure description] Page 162.[end figure description]

Throughout the day, a great bustle had prevailed in Mrs.
Moreton's kitchen. Viney, the cook, was by due notice
informed of the expected visit of Mr. and Mrs. Mildmay,
and had been told to get as excellent a dinner as possible,
in honor of the occasion. Viney had great pride in her
department, and was determined to do something that
would do honor to the family. The consequence was, that
she had managed to get some half-a-dozen negroes added to
the already over-abundant supply natural to Mr. Moreton's
house; and the kitchen was not only crowded with
every variety of dish, for the garnishment of the table,
but it was also crowded with negroes, who, on the pretence
of helping the bustling and important Viney, were
really helping themselves.

The rustling of ladies' dresses in the hall, finally announced,
indirectly, to the gentlemen, that dinner was on
the table; and by the time they reached the parlor, the
folding-doors were thrown open, and the ladies were discovered,
already seated at the hospitable board.

[figure description] Page 163.[end figure description]

Col. Lee was all compliments, and before taking his
seat, he congratulated Mrs. Moreton on her fine appearance,
expressed the most profound pleasure at meeting
with Mrs. Mildmay, “of whose beauty he had heard so
much,” and then seated himself beside Aunt Margaret,
whom he called “a lady of the Old Dominion.”

Mildmay was more ceremonious, and after expressing
his pleasure at seeing Mrs. Moreton, and Mrs. Marbury
(Aunt Margaret), he gave a look of pleasurable intelligence
to Annie, and seated himself by her side. This
being done, Mr. Moreton took his place at the head of the
table, and looking over the viands and his guests, with intense
satisfaction, he ordered the soup to be handed round,
and fell himself to carving the magnificent—and on a
Southern table, never to be dispensed with—ham, that until
then, untouched by knife, was resting before him.

On the first sound of the spoons upon the dishes, there
came a noise in the hall, as of heavy drops of rain beating
upon a roof; then could be heard children's voices, and in
another instant, a dozen or more of boys and girls, of all
sizes and ages, came rushing into the dining-room, clamoring
for something to eat, and evidently urged on by a
score of little negroes, that, in the rear, ably supported
these impetuous applicants.

“These children must all be carried off,” said Mr.
Moreton, holding up his carving-knife and fork, and looking
around as if he expected every moment that he himself
would be devoured.

“Toots ain't doin 'way!” said that little romp, tumbling
from some place plump into the middle of the room,

[figure description] Page 164.[end figure description]

“me doin to eat dinner, and sassenger, and cake, and pie,
and—and—and chickenses,” and when she got thus far,
Mrs. Moreton put her hands to her ears, and begged Aunt
Margaret “to take that child, and all the children, away,
until dinner was over.”

“Take Toots up!” said Aunt Margaret to a matronly-looking
negro woman, the seamstress, who had volunteered
to wait on the table; “take Toots up!” continued Aunt
Margaret, “and amuse her as you best can.”

“I won't go to Phyllis!” said Toots, jumping up and
down the room, and falling heels over head against Annie's
feet.

“Come, little missis!” said Phyllis, catching hold of
Toots, “come, and I'll tell you that pretty story.” Toots
yielded in an instant, and fairly springing into her nurse's
arms, she could be heard rattling away, until her voice was
lost in the distance, telling Phyllis how much “she liked
to hear that pretty 'tory of the horses, and cagiges, and
womens, and dogs.”

Meanwhile the mass of the children, including George,
Augustus, Minty, Clotilde, Charley, and “little Moreton,”
made a compromise with their father, that they were to
have a table set in an adjoining room (this was a favorite
plan of the servants); in the meanwhile, they were to go
out in the yard and play.

Phyllis carried Toots into the main road, and sitting
down under the shade of a magnificent live-oak, she spread
a shawl on the ground, on which she put her little mistress,
and told Toots for the fortieth time the following story; it
being remarkable, that at each relation, Toots made the

[figure description] Page 165.[end figure description]

same comments, asked the same questions, and appeared
more than at any previous time, breathless with excited
interest.

“Dar was once, young missis,” began Phyllis, “a
white gentleman, as married another wife, and she was the
stuck-upest woman that never was.”

“What did she do?” asked Toots, out of breath with
expectation.

“Why, whipped all her black people, just for nothin' at
all,” continued Phyllis.

“She wouldn't whip you, would she?” said Toots,
throwing her arms round Phyllis's neck.

“Wal, I 'spect not,” said the girl, caressing the child,
“but now listen,—you see dis stuck up white lady had
three daughters, the biggest ones she made set in the parlor,
under 'skeeter bars, all day, and do nothin' but have
the black people wait on 'em, all the time; and de other
daughter, who was mighty handsome, was kept up stairs,
and wouldn't done let her go riding horseback, nor to New
Orleans, nor nowhar.

“Now, you see,” continued Phyllis, “somebody on de
'jining plantation gave a big ball, and 'vited all de great
people, but didn't 'vite little Cind'rella; her stuck-up
mother wouldn't let her go along with her bad sisters.”

“I'd a kicked and hollered, and told father, if they
didn't let me go to ball, and have cake, and candies, and
ochancies, and apples.”

“I know you would,” said Phyllis, looking admiringly
at Toots, “but, you see that this little Cind'rella didn't
do it, but just staid at home and cried; when dar was an

[figure description] Page 166.[end figure description]

old woman with a cap on, and a long nose, and a broomstick
cum'd into the room, and asked Cind'rella if she
wanted to go to the ball, 'cause her sisters had done gone
already. Now Cind'rella she couldn't go in course, for
you see she had no handsome dress with yaller ribbons,
and blue trimmings, and big breastpin, no carrige to ride,
nor any black people to drive to the ball; now this old
woman was a fairy.”

“What's a fairy?” said Toots, wonderingly.

“A fairy,” said Phyllis, looking rather foolish, “is
somebody that nobody owns, dat just goes about doin'
nothin', and having every thing they wants, dat's a fairy,
Miss Toots. And now,” she continued, “listen what de
fairy done did for Cind'rella; she tuck a punkin, and
made a carrige, and six mouses for horses, and a big rat
for a coach-driver, and put a new dress on, and new shoes
on Cind'rella, and a charm to make her look handsomer
than ever, and sent her off to the big ball.

“You see,” continued Phyllis, “dat de old fairy told
Cind'rella dat she must cum home afore daybreak, her pass
was up you see by dat time, and if she stopped, de patrolers
would cotch her. Now Cind'rella was a dancin' a
'giny reel, with the young master, who owned two hundred
black people, and dey had plenty music, six banjos, and
three fiddles, but den daybreak cum all ov a sudden, and
Cind'rella, 'spectin' her pass wouldn't do no longer, tuck
to her heels, and left her shoe in de middle of de floor.

“Now de rich young man, dat owned two hundred
black people, was in lub wid Cind'rella, and as he couldn't
find her plantation; he sent all his black people out to find

[figure description] Page 167.[end figure description]

the young missis that lost her shoe at de time de dancing
was gwine on; at last dey found her up in de arbor sound
asleep, wid one shoe, and dey know'd it was her, and
dey had a big weddin', and every body cum—Mr. Mildmay,
and Col. Lee, and—”

“Cousin Annie,” suggested Toots.

“Yes,” said Phyllis, “Mistress Annie—and all de
black people was dressed up, a waitin' on de tables, and
such a time was never know'd afore.”

“Oh, how I would like to have been there!” said
Toots, clapping her little hands, “wouldn't I had fun, and
thrown turkey bones across the table, and made mother
take me in her lap, and sing me to sleep when—” and
Toots rose from her reclining position, and attempting to
spin round, to show Phyllis how she would go to sleep,
she twisted the shawl about her feet, and as usual, rolled
heels over head, but instantly releasing herself, she went
whooping off down the road, in pursuit of a gaudy butterfly,
that was fluttering along, seemingly on purpose to entice
the little fairy away from home.

Mr. Moreton's children assembled in the lawn, accompanied
by all the little negroes that could be gathered up
on the plantation; and it was enthusiastically agreed to
play “Runaway.” George, a boy about ten years of age,
was captain; and in his imperative manner, and restiveness
under restraint, displayed toward his little dependents,
was a perfect representation of his father. He organized
the play that gave them all so much pleasure.

A little negro, some eight years old, named Puggy
Bill, selected because he was a favorite with “young

[figure description] Page 168.[end figure description]

master,” personated the “runaway;” and according to
direction, he tracked over the lawn, running around the
trees, and behind the out-buildings,—turning and twisting
in every possible direction, so as not to cross his own footsteps.
The children, white and black, watching the course
of this little “star in the comedy,” and occasionally shouting
out their pleasure, whenever Puggy Bill showed any
unusual degree of shrewdness in tracking his devious way.

At the feet of George was held, by several officious
little negro boys—a young, and scarcely weaned, deerhound.
The animal—pup though it was, showed by its
heavy limbs, long silken ears, and bright eyes, that it was
of game blood. It seemed to understand that it occupied
a prominent place in the amusements of the hour, and
rested patiently until it was time for action.

At length Puggy Bill completed his circuit, and came
up, quite out of breath, to the group he some fifteen minutes
before had left; when, at a given signal, “Clamper,”
the puppy, was put on “the trail;” and as he set off,
childish shouts encouraged him on his way. The dog,
with his nose close to the ground, followed Puggy Bill's
tracks with a precision that gave the children the greatest
delight; and as he wound around and followed, to admiring
eyes, the unseen course, he was continually cheered. Excited
himself, at last, as he was nearing the end of the
chase, the puppy began to give forth cries of excitement,
and opened its unformed throat, and yelped with puppy joy.

Presently he threaded the group of children, and
leaped rapturously on Puggy Bill, who received the favorite
with open arms, covering him with caresses; “young

[figure description] Page 169.[end figure description]

master” George, meanwhile, going on with various explicatives,
as if the runaway, although caught, had made
resistance, and consequently had to be beaten, or shot
down.

The sumptuous dinner was brought to a close,—Annie
stood under the gallery, equipped in her riding-dress,—
Col. Lee had insisted that her palfrey should be brought
close up to the door. Mr. Moreton and Aunt Margaret
shook Annie cordially by the hand, and repeated over and
over again the pleasure they had experienced in her society.
Mr. Moreton and Col. Lee courteously contended
who should assist Annie on her horse, who, fairly mounted,
waved her adieus; and Mildmay, springing in the saddle,
lifted his hat, and in a moment more he and his young
wife were cantering down the road,—the declining sun
cautioning them that they must be quick-footed, if they
would not be surrounded while in the forest by the solitude
of night.

p726-179 CHAPTER XV. THE TITLE DEED.

[figure description] Page 170.[end figure description]

Squire Andrew Hobby was professedly a justice of the
peace; his chief business, however, was writing out bills
for the sale of negroes. He was naturally a pompous man,
but generally concealed this peculiarity, as he was dependent
upon the good will of the populace for his official dignity.
Hobby had a high regard for Mildmay, simply
because that gentleman had never treated him with the
least passing notice; and he was accordingly quite flattered,
when Mildmay checked his horse in front of his
little office one morning, and stated that he desired at a
particularly named time his official services at the “Heritage
Place.”

“And what is it you desire of me?” inquired Hobby
before Mildmay had time to finish his commission.

“Simply,” returned Graham, “to execute the papers
for the sale of a negro; and my reason for troubling you
to come out to my house is, that it may possibly be inconvenient
for Mrs. Mildmay to visit Beechland, to sign the
title deed.”

[figure description] Page 171.[end figure description]

“I'll come out with pleasure,” said Hobby, rubbing
his hands with excitement; “this office of mine is not
much of a place to invite ladies in.”

“The office is well enough,” said Mildmay; “but
ladies, you are aware, find it difficult to leave home.”

“They do,” returned Hobby, with emphasis; and
suddenly assuming his natural manner, he continued,
“Ladies thrive best in the domestic circle, surrounded by
the endearments of home; and, as the editor of the Southern
War Trumpet observes, depending for support upon
the sterner sex, as the vine upon the lordly oak.”

“You are quite an enthusiast, Mr. Hobby, when alluding
to the sex,” returned Mildmay, gathering up the loose
bridle-reins, and preparing to leave.

“Quite,” said Hobby, trying to look impressive;
“quite, Mr. Mildmay, for we can never return the debt of
gratitude we owe to woman.”

Graham struck his spur gently into his horse's flanks,
and as the generous animal started off, he muttered to
himself, “Confound that fellow's stereotyped compliments;
why don't he practise some of his professions, by
taking the most ordinary care of his notoriously neglected
wife.”

When Mildmay reached home, Mr. Speers was waiting
for him upon the gallery of the house. Mildmay saluted
the gentleman, and after a few moments' conversation
with Annie, returned to his guest.

“I saw Squire Hobby,” said he, drawing up a chair,
and ordering Governor to bring some refreshments; “and

[figure description] Page 172.[end figure description]

I presume he will soon be here, as I saw his horse saddled
before I left town.”

“I'm not specially engaged at this time,” returned
Speers, in a drawling voice, filling his tumbler half full of
brandy, and declining any water. “I've been over the
crap this morning,' he continued, “and though smartly
in the grass, I reckon the niggers can get along without
being touched up, till night, if they must.”

“I am very sorry,” said Mildmay, going to his desk,
and getting out some papers, “that Mr. Murritt, when he
sold me the girl Mary, did not say you owned her husband.”

“He wouldn't a' told you that, and been sharp at a
trade,” said Speers, his eyes twinkling at the preposterous
idea of a trader's saying any thing to interfere with a bargain;
“for,” he suggested, “maybee, you wouldn't have
bought the girl, if you know'd she had been separated from
her husband.”

“I certainly would not,” said Mildmay, his face flushing
with excitement.

“And do you 'spose,” said Speers, with a kind of triumph
unconsciously displayed in his voice, “that Murritt
could make a living if he consulted his niggers as to how
he should sell 'em?”

Mildmay bit his lip, and internally acknowledging, in
spite of himself, that his long residence in the North had
unprepared him somewhat for the associations around him;
and, at the moment, perceiving the busy Mr. Hobby approaching,
he walked toward the gate to meet him, and
lead the way to the house.

[figure description] Page 173.[end figure description]

Again the ceremony of drinking was gone through
with, much to the gratification of Speers and Hobby,—the
latter gentleman observing, much to the admiration of
Speers,

“That if he ever did own a big plantation, he rather
thought if he hadn't any thing else good, he would have
`No. 1,' sperits;” when, suddenly recollecting that Speers
owned only a small plantation, he continued, smiling toward
that gentleman, “in the mean time, I'd have plenty of
plain whiskey.”

“This Mildmay is rather a stiff man,” said Speers,
looking nervously about, Graham having for the moment
left his guests.

“He is,” almost whispered Hobby; “but you see,”
he went on, “it's the way with the rich,—they can afford
to put on airs.”

“But,” continued Speers, with a sort of injured expression,
“Mildmay won't drink,—won't frolic,—won't
card,—won't chaw,—and smokes a cigar as if he did'nt
love it; what kind of a man is that?” and Speers looked
at Hobby as if he had given a question too difficult for
human solution.

“Why, you see, the fact is,” said Hobby, puckering
up his mouth with the expression that he assumed when
on “the bench,” “you see Mr. Mildmay, though born in
old Carolina, was raised among the Yankees, and his edication
has been neglected; I haven't lived, Mr. Speers, in
Beechland nigh on to fifteen years for nothing:” and
Hobby looked more profound than ever, and touching
Speers upon the breast, he continued:

[figure description] Page 174.[end figure description]

“We have had a good many cases here like Mildmay,
that didn't cut up such shindys more than a year or two,
and then begun and went it strong to make up. Why
Jim Ruggles, as keeps the race-track, and was tried last
court for stocking cards, commenced here nine years ago
worse than Mildmay.”

“That Jim Ruggles is a good fellow,” said Speers,
with great sympathy, and not exactly comprehending Esq.
Hobby's meaning; and he continued, with some animation,
“that 'ere 'ditement 'bout the cards was done, just
'cause Ruggles is so poor that he can't pertect himself
from abuse.”

“That's true,—that's true,” said the politic Hobby;
“for you see,” added he, “Major Lively said to the court,
`that if wringing in an ace or two at the last game was
to be made a fine of, why he could present the hull bar
to the grand jury;' and so the matter dropped.”

When Mildmay returned to the gallery, he was accompanied
by a negro girl about twenty years of age, whose
drabbled homespun garments betrayed that she had but
just left the wet grass of the cotton field.

“Here's Mary,” said he, to Mr. Speers; “you have
seen her, and are willing to purchase her at the stipulated
price of six hundred dollars?”

Speers rolled his eyes over towards the girl, and examined
her from head to foot; then getting up, and whirling
her round by a rough jerk of her shoulder, and stooping
down and rubbing with his finger a perceptible scar on the
calf of the girl's leg, he again seemed desirous to take a
good look, and stood off, and put himself in an attitude

[figure description] Page 175.[end figure description]

assumed by connoisseurs when viewing at a rare picture.
He then turned to her, and abruptly said,

“How come that scar on your leg?”

“It's whar a dog bit me,” said the girl, with perfect
indifference. “Squire Hobby,” said Speers, “look at
that scratch there, and tell me if you believe that girl's
lying.”

Hobby at once assumed his official face, and, stooping
down, appeared to make a most critical inspection.

“What do you think of it?” said Speers, finally growing
impatient.

“Why,” said the learned justice, “it mout have been
made by a lash, and it mout have been made by a dog's
bite, or a brier; I suspect it was the effect of accident, as
the girl says.”

“That's enough,” said Speers, seeming to be relieved;
“for you see,” he continued, `I don't buy no scarred
niggers; if I want any sich marks on my property, I'll
make 'em myself.”

“You have decided positively not to sell this girl's
husband to me?” said Graham.

“Yes,” said Speers, gruffly; “for you see, Mr. Mildmay,
I don't know why I shouldn't own a good nigger as
well as any body else.”

“Nor do I,” said Mildmay, thoroughly annoyed; “I
wish Mr. Speers you owned a hundred, if you desire to,—
only I regret that I should have been the instrument of
separating the wife from a negro, to whom you seem so
much attached.”

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Speers evidently felt mortified that he had spoken as
he did, and in a milder voice he said,

“What's the use of troubling ourselves whether this
gal lives with Cooney or not; she can find husbands
enough on Heritage Place.”

“Mary,” said Mildmay, turning to the negro, “when
I proposed to buy you, you said that you were not married?”

“So I did, master,” said the girl, moodily, “but if I
hadn't told you so, Mr. Murritt would a' killed me after
you went away.”

“Mr. Mildmay,” said Speers, perfectly unconscious of
the feelings agitating Graham's breast, “if you'd like to
keep that gal, you needn't be afeard that Cooney will
come on your premises after I tell him to keep away; I
would like to own a nigger that would go whar I told him
not to.”

“It is not best to tempt him so strongly to disobey
you,” said Mildmay.

“Well, if Cooney disobeys me, it shan't be any trouble
to you,” said Speers, trying to be agreeable.

“You see Mary,” said Mildmay, turning to the girl,
“that by being controlled, you deceived me; now you are
at liberty to speak the truth: do you prefer to go with
Mr. Speers, or stay with me?”

“I want to be with Cooney,” was the terse answer.

“Very well,” said Mildmay; “now go to the quarters,
gather up your clothes and bedding, and come to the shed
of the blacksmith's shop in the front road.”

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