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When I Was a Little Girl 
 
 * * * 
 
 Todays are dull. 
 We will wend our ways 
 'Back to our beautiful yesterdays.'' 
 
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When I Was a Little Girl 
 
 The Tear's l^ound on the 
 Old Tlantation 
 
 "By 
 ANNA HARDEMAN MEADE 
 
 [Illustrations from Old Photographs of the T>ay~\ 
 
 LOS ANGELES 
 
 The FRED S. LANG COMPANY 
 
 PUBLISHERS 
 

 Copyright, 1916 
 by Anna Hardeman Meade 
 
 JAN I9i9i7 
 "Via) / * 
 
"Where noiv ivitli pain thou treadest, trod 
 The whitest of the Saints of God ; 
 To show thee where their feet were set. 
 The light which led tJiem shineth yet." 
 
 IN recalling and recording these actual scenes and 
 incidents of long ago, for you, my children, I have 
 been guided and encouraged by the thought that I 
 fulfilled your father's earnestly expressed wish. His 
 strong influence, "The light which led," though it is 
 behind me, "shineth yet," a steady ray, ever "going 
 on before," thrice blessed with warmth, light and love, 
 illuminating the way wherein I tread now alone. Let 
 my reminiscences be sacred to the memory of your 
 father, James Turner Meade, and if the book pleases 
 you, accept it as a gift of love from him, and through 
 
 him from your mother. 
 
 A. H. M. 
 
 [vii] 
 
The Contents 
 
 Page 
 
 Preface ........ vii 
 
 Chapter 
 
 I. Penultima and Its People ... 1 
 
 II. A Visit to Melville Manor ... 27 
 
 III, Stories Grandma Told .... 49 
 
 IV. Christmas 69 
 
 [ixj 
 
The Illustrations 
 
 Penultima, The Last Home But One 
 
 Grandfather McNeill 
 
 Grandmother McNeill 
 
 Mammy 
 
 The Rector 
 
 The Rector's Wife 
 
 The Family Doctor 
 
 Grandma Melville . 
 
 Miriam 
 
 The Little Brown Church 
 
 The Bishop 
 
 Patty .... 
 
 Frontispiece J 
 
 Facing Page 
 
 J 
 
 16 
 
 18 
 
 34/ 
 
 40 
 
 76 , 
 
 78 
 
 80 y 
 88 V 
 
 [xi] 
 
When I Was a 'Little Girl 
 

 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Penultima and Its People. 
 
 YES, children, I will tell you a story" — so many 
 eyes turned upon me, some black, some brown, 
 some blue, all bright, beautiful and beseeching 
 prove irresistible, but the question comes up, which 
 of the many suppliants shall I gratify? Donald asks 
 for something about the war; Reggie says he might 
 have known Cousin Miriam didn't know anything about 
 horses and dogs, and Virginia wonders if young ladies' 
 trains gave them as much trouble when I was young as 
 they do now, while Unie wants to hear about Christmas 
 in old times, and Merry begs for a story about "When 
 you were a little girl, Cousin Miriam"; so, children, 
 what do you think? Now, don't laugh, — I have con- 
 cluded to come off here in my own room, by my lone 
 self, where I am undisturbed by conflicting importunities, 
 and write you a story, and as Merry's request will 
 embrace the wishes of all, and I have no imaginative 
 genius, it shall be a true story of when I was a little 
 
 [1] 
 
When I Was a Little Girl 
 
 girl. Memory must take the place of imagination, and 
 as in honor-bound I search the past for something of 
 interest, I find that I cannot bring scenes and incidents 
 clearly to your mind, until you are familiar with my 
 surroundings as they then existed. 
 
 As Penultima, my home from my earliest recollec- 
 tion, was the birthplace of your ancestors, and mine, 
 for generations, a description of it will interest you all, 
 I am sure, and if I linger over it, have patience, and 
 remember, that while to others it is but one of many old 
 homes, to me it is the "Holy of Holies," the sacred 
 spot which excludes the cold world of the present and 
 embraces the hope, love and joy of other days, when 
 I was a little girl. I am an old, gray-haired woman 
 now, and many years and many miles separate me here 
 in the city from my childhood's home, but love and 
 memory defy time and space, and clearly and gladly I 
 can recall and describe it to you. 
 
 The house was of red brick, solid and square, low 
 and rambling, with wide halls running this way and 
 that, and long galleries on all sides. Surrounded by 
 ample yards, gardens, orchards and out-houses of every 
 size and description, with the "Quarters" — a long 
 double row of whitewashed log cabins in the distance 
 — Penultima presented quite an Imposing appearance. 
 It impressed one with its vast dimensions, rather than 
 its grandeur, though it was a fine old place in its day 
 and time. A beautiful lawn, green most of the year in 
 that climate, and well grown with grand old oak, beech 
 and walnut trees, sloped gradually down to the levee, 
 which formed the highway, following the bend of the 
 shining river for many miles. It was the stage road, 
 and on regular days, the " toot-too, toot-too, toot, toot- 
 too, too-oo " of the stage horn called our attention to the 
 
 [2] 
 
GRANDFATHER McNEILL 
 
Penultima and Its People 
 
 lumbering old red-and-yellow coach, drawn through 
 thick mud, or clouds of dust, as the case might be, by 
 its four plodding horses, and piled high in the back with 
 baggage, covered with a funereal black oilcloth. Within 
 this levee, and enclosing the entire plantation, was a 
 rough rock wall, with a heavy gate, whose enormous size 
 seemed to invite the outside world to enter and drive up 
 the grand avenue of spreading trees to the house. Hos- 
 pitality and good cheer fairly flashed from its many 
 windows and wide doors, and it resounded with the 
 noisy footsteps, happy voices and unrestrained laughter 
 of its numerous inmates. 
 
 Our grandfather was the third Donald McNeill who 
 had owned the place, his grandfather having settled 
 there when he came to this country from Scotland, and 
 built the house, which was added to and improved by 
 each successive owner, as prosperity rewarded effort, 
 until it became the ideal home I have described, under 
 Grandfather's direction, when at the age of twenty-two 
 he married Miriam Melville, the daughter of an old 
 English family who came to this country about the same 
 time, and was acknowledged by the exclusive McNeills, 
 after due deliberation, as a worthy mate for the heir of 
 their house. She was seventeen, and they were lovers 
 from the days of round-abouts and pinafores. 
 
 The McNeills were noted for three things, — hon- 
 esty, stubbornness and enormous size and strength. 
 Grandfather was a worthy representative of his race, 
 but his stern virtues were toned down by education and 
 the close companionship of one whose gentle but firm, 
 dignified, composed character his strong influence had 
 helped to form. He was grand and noble, and his name 
 and example are a legacy of priceless value to us. And 
 dear, beautiful Grandmother ! They were the only par- 
 
 [3] 
 
When I Was a Little Girl 
 
 ents I ever knew, and my heart swells with love and 
 pride in memory of them both. 
 
 Grandfather and Grandmother had seven sons and 
 three daughters. Donald, my father, was their first- 
 born, and at the age of eighteen was sent to Scotland to 
 complete his education. During his vacation the next 
 year he visited his mother's relatives in England, and 
 being attracted to his orphan cousin, Miriam Melville, 
 by the name most dear to him, he fell so deeply in loVt 
 with her that her guardian consented to their marriage, 
 before he was twenty, and she but seventeen. They were 
 to come home as soon as he should complete his course, 
 but the fates decreed otherwise. I came into the world 
 fatherless, and my young mother thankfully accepted 
 the father and mother and home urged upon her, and 
 brought me to Penultima, where she lived only a few 
 months, and died, leaving me, an object of tender, loving 
 care, to the large family, who were father, mother, 
 brothers and sisters to me from that time. 
 
 Next to my father was Eunice, who married a dis- 
 tant cousin of our name and brought her five fatherless 
 children to live in the old home. 
 
 Melville, a son after his father's own heart, chose 
 the independent life of a planter, free from care, and far 
 from the world in those days, and settled down at an 
 early age on his own place, with his little wife, Loulie, 
 the daughter of one of the county families, in the dear 
 old neighborhood, only a few miles from Penultima. 
 Want of ambition was the only fault of which he was 
 ever accused, and his wife, being reared in the same 
 atmosphere, had no tastes or aspirations beyond his, and 
 the perfect peace and content which reigned at Oakwood 
 might well have excited the emulation of the more ven- 
 
 [4] 
 
GRANDMOTHER MCNEILL 
 
Penultima and Its People 
 
 turesome, who spread their wings and all too soon were 
 gone from the home nest. 
 
 Malcolm and Howard were studying their profes- 
 sions In northern cities; Dorothy and Cornelia were the 
 young ladles of the family; and the three younger boys, 
 Campbell, Kenneth and Reginald, with Donald and 
 Hardle, Aunt Eunice's boys, were nearest my own age 
 and my companions at home and at school. Last, but 
 not least, came her three little girls, Patty, Eunice (or 
 Unle) , and Baby Merry, as she was called, to distinguish 
 her from myself. Miss Hale was our governess and 
 dear friend for many years. 
 
 And now our servants must take their place in my 
 story, as they do In my heart of hearts, for without them 
 no description of home life can be complete. Our 
 Mammy was not the regulation mammy, children, with 
 fat sides, rolling gait, black, shining features, and a 
 kindly smile ; she was very tall and slender, with a form 
 whose flat, ungainly proportions were accentuated, as 
 far as possible, by her severely plain manner of dress ; a 
 light brown complexion, dark eyes, hair nearly straight, 
 and peeping from under her brilliant bandana, on every- 
 day occasions in plaits, — when we had grand company 
 andthebaby was to be "showed off " It was combed out and 
 allowed to crimp ; but when Mammy's hair was curled 
 in a thrifty bunch on each side of her face, the bandana, 
 which was never discarded, pushed far back to display 
 her high comb, a gift from Grandfather himself, every 
 child ran after her to know whether it was a funeral, a 
 wedding, or a big meeting In her church. The set of 
 Mammy's bandana, or " hankcher," was an index to her 
 feelings, which we children learned to read without fail. 
 If it drooped dejectedly In the back and was pulled down 
 nearly to her eyes, as though she tried to hide as much 
 
 [5] 
 
When I Was a Little Girl 
 
 of her face as possible, showing the green edges of 
 horseradish leaves, whose pungent quality, acting as a 
 counter-irritant, was supposed to relieve pain, we need 
 ask no favors — Mammy had " de mis'ry in her head" 
 and didn't " have no time to fool wid chillen, nohow." 
 On the other hand, if her colors were raised in the rear, 
 and the plaits, crimps, or curls displayed in front, peace 
 reigned supreme. The former condition, be it said to 
 her credit, was of rare occurrence, and Mammy's tem- 
 per, though hasty and ungovernable, gave little trouble, 
 as it was never displayed towards us, and in the quarters 
 she was regarded with awe and admiration, and her 
 mandate, " Don't none o' you niggers fool wid me 1 I 
 got Injun blood in dese yer veins," was set forth with 
 flashing eyes, quaking turban and uplifted hands, and 
 was carefully obeyed. There was no love lost between 
 Mammy and the overseer, whoever he might be — she 
 considered him " po' white folks," and beneath her 
 notice, and in her he recognized a dangerous rival, she 
 being a person of influence on the plantation, and the 
 carrier of Grandmother's orders. "/ want four men to 
 shake cyarpets," she would say, and after enjoying his 
 perplexity, would add, as she walked off, " Mistis say 
 sen' 'em," and the four men were forthcoming, no matter 
 how much they were needed in the crop, and Grandfather 
 would only smile. Once when the Master and Mistress 
 were both away from home, and Uncle Stuart McNeill 
 came over from La Vega to look over the place, and see 
 if any instructions were needed, the overseer, after 
 receiving his orders about plantation affairs, said : "Doc- 
 tor, this old woman's insolence is becoming unbearable, 
 and I want to ask your advice about punishing her." 
 " What old woman ? " asked our uncle. " The one they 
 call Mammy, sir. She ought to be sent to the field, sir." 
 
 [6] 
 
Penultima and Its People 
 
 "What! — What," said Uncle Stuart, in amazed and 
 amused consternation, "Punish Mammy! Why, I would 
 as soon think of punishing my own mother. Why, man, 
 you would have four of the biggest men in Mississippi 
 down on you if ever you dare suggest such a thing, and 
 she knows It. All you can do is to knuckle down to 
 Mammy." Mammy was a woman of strong character, 
 an earnest Christian, a devoted mother to her children, 
 white and black, and a faithful servant and friend. 
 
 Uncle Rock, her husband, was Grandmother's car- 
 riage driver, head-gardener, and general assistant in the 
 management of her department of affairs in the home, — 
 a position of care and responsibility, which he filled as 
 faithfully for her as he did for her mother before her. 
 
 Torm, the butler, and Grandfather's own man, was 
 a character in our household. I suppose he was chris- 
 tened Thomas, but he would not have known himself by 
 a name so dignified. He was short and black, quick- 
 motioned and jolly, with little twinkling eyes, white 
 teeth, and a beaming smile always forthcoming. His 
 manifold duties kept him on the go from morning until 
 late at night; he rubbed the silver, polished the glass, 
 cleaned the boots, waxed the floors, washed the windows, 
 saddled the horses, drove the children's spring wagon, 
 rowed the skiff across the river, found everything that 
 was lost, kept up with Grandfather's spectacles, was on 
 hand to wait on everybody, and never failed to keep 
 breakfast hot for delinquents under the ban of Grand- 
 father's displeasure. His loyalty to " de fam'ly" con- 
 tinued his ruling passion to his dying day. 
 
 Jane, the housemaid, was his wife, and the victim of 
 his inveterate teasing and practical jokes; she was a 
 good soul, but not bright, and never could understand 
 his ways. " Torm," I said, " if you don't let Jane alone 
 
 [7] 
 
When I Was a Little Girl 
 
 she won't love you." " Law, Missy, you makes me 
 laugh," said he. "Jane ain' keerin' — she done los' her 
 tas'e fer me, anyhow; she ain't got sense 'noughto know 
 Ijes' funnin'l" 
 
 There was Aunt Nacky, the cook, whose duties eould 
 never have been accomplished without the able assist- 
 ance she demanded and received on all occasions. 
 
 Many more of the happy black faces are recalled by 
 the mention of these, but I forget, children, that you did 
 not know as I did, these people, so tender and true, so 
 gentle and loving, and so dearly loved — they are closely 
 associated with the day and time of which we old folks 
 love to talk, our youth, and I know not when or where 
 to leave off. 
 
 The Sunday afternoon at Penultima, as I recall it 
 now, fully embraces my idea of peace, rest and perfect 
 happiness, though it may have been a little irksome at 
 times. After the cold dinner which was served immedi- 
 ately upon our return from church. Grandfather, in his 
 great chair drawn up to the fire, or tilted back against 
 the post at the southeast corner of the broad gallery, 
 puffed slowly at his pipe with stem so long that he could 
 not reach the bowl, and would call Torm to light the 
 tobacco with a bright little coal, which he preferred to 
 the ill-tasting match. With Grandmother always at his 
 side and never a book or paper, he gave himself up to 
 his family. " Come," he would say, knocking the ashes 
 from his pipe, "let's go to the quarters," and running for 
 caps and sunbonnets, baskets and bundles, we made ready 
 to accompany the Master and Mistress on one of their 
 frequent visits to the old, sick and afflicted servants, who 
 were always objects of their tender care. " Marster," 
 said Torm, "Primus done dead." "Oh, is he? Poor 
 fellow! When?" said Grandfather. "He died las' 
 
 [8] 
 
Penultima and Its People 
 
 night after supper — de doctor say he had de pneu- 
 mony — Calline jes' now come home f 'um over de river ; 
 ye can hear her hollerin' no sooner'n ye comes ter de 
 gittin'-over place." Caroline had married a man belong- 
 ing to one of our neighbors, a very unusual thing for one 
 of our people. Speechless with sympathy and awe in 
 the presence of such grief, we followed Grandmother, 
 hearing the most heart-rending cries as we approached 
 the cabin. Sincere mourners were seated about the room, 
 swaying their bodies and groaning, but speaking not a 
 word to the sufferer. " Hit ain't no use er strugglin' 
 'gins de Almighty," said one. " Dar, bless Gawd — Mis- 
 tis comin' I " and, rising to their feet, they placed a chair 
 for her. Taking the poor girl's head in her lap, as she 
 threw herself on her knees before her. Grandmother 
 petted and comforted her, gently and tenderly as a 
 mother. As she became quiet I ventured in, just as she 
 was rocking back and forth, seated on the floor, and 
 saying between her sobs, " Yes, Mistis, Primus wus good 
 ter me — he wus er good husbun', and I gwine ter git 
 me ernother one jes' lak him quick es I kin. Good-bye, 
 Mistis an' Marster, an' thankee ma'am fer de black 
 dress, too — I ain't never had er black dress befo' in my 
 life. Oh, my Lawd I Oh, my Lawd Gawd 1 " 
 
 We moved on up the long street, stopping here and 
 there with some dinner for an invalid, a little gift for 
 some favored one, or the ever-forthcoming *' chaw er 
 terbacker." Ole Aun' Crazy Silvey, bent and withered, 
 and blind, with a flaming bandana bound high upon her 
 snow-white head, hobbled out to meet us, feeling her 
 way with a heavy knotted hickory staff, and poured forth 
 her woeful story for the hundredth time, of how " Dese 
 young uns made her head ache fit ter bus', wid dey fuss, 
 er fiddlin' an' er dancin,' an' how she was gwine ter con- 
 
 [9] 
 
When I Was a Little Girl 
 
 jure 'em twel all de frogs' blood, an' de stump water, 
 an' de rabbit's foots, an' de buckeyes on de plantation 
 wouldn't do 'em no good, ef Marster an' Mistis wouldn't 
 stop 'em no other way." They tried to soothe her with 
 promises, but she followed us, walking up and down 
 and mumbling gruesome threats. She waved her staff 
 towards the river, muttering, " De rains 'scended an' de 
 floods come — de floods — yes, I say de floods — I ain't 
 see three snakes makin' dey track in de dus' fer nuthin' ! 
 I tell ye, mun, Silvey see signs!" " I wonder if she can 
 mean anything?" said Grandmother. "Oh, no I poor 
 old soul," said Grandfather. But he looked anxiously 
 at the mighty Father of Waters rolling sullenly between 
 the protecting levees. "Bless Gawd! h' yon come de 
 white folks!" said fat, jolly, black Mammy Dinah, 
 the mother of Tom and Dalton, the musical twins. " I'm 
 jis' tollerable, I thank-ye; how ye do yo'sef ? " and rising 
 laboriously from her seat in her cabin door, she invited 
 us in with broad smiles and a hearty welcome. She lum- 
 bered about, providing chairs, entertained us volubly, 
 and presented each of us children with " er aig," " er 
 big sweet-tater," or a " red year er cawn." " Hi, dere, 
 Missy," she called after me, as we said good-bye; "what 
 dat you doin' whis'lin' 'long er de boys? Don't yer 
 know er whis'lin' 'oman an' er crowin' hen never come 
 ter a good en'? Ye better listen ter yer old Mammy! 
 Ye better, mun ! " 
 
 Old Uncle Tom Ford was sunning his white head in 
 front of his lonely little cabin, but greeted us standing 
 with one hand on his bended back and the other grasping 
 his staff, the end of which was polished like glass from 
 constant rubbing against his horny palm. " Well, Mar- 
 ster, I ain't so well," he said. " No, Mistis, I ain't so well, 
 ma'am; de mis'ry done fell in de low part er my back; 
 
 [10] 
 
Penultima and Its People 
 
 yo' ole nigger ain't long fer dis worl'. No, ma'am, dat's 
 so — don't none o' us know de Almighty's ways 'zackly, 
 but I'm er gittin' mighty low, Mistis, mighty low," 
 shaking his head mournfully from side to side. " My 
 knees" — and there followed a long list of his troubles, 
 with many an added ache or pain. Uncle Tom was an 
 object of contempt and derision on the plantation among 
 white and black, on account of his propensity for story- 
 telling, and was treated with a show of respect in consid- 
 eration of his years, which were not so many as he would 
 have had us believe. He, with others, was allowed to 
 come to the garden for turnip-greens in season, but was 
 forbidden to touch the onions, as they were not old 
 enough to use. Having had his suspicions aroused, the 
 overseer said one day, " Tom, what you got in that 
 sack? " " Greens, Mr. Gunn, greens, sir," he answered. 
 " Weil, they smell mighty strong. Get down off er that 
 mule and let me see," said Mr. Gunn. Uncle Tom's 
 look of injured innocence changed to one of confusion 
 as he slowly dismounted and more slowly untied his 
 sack. " Now, Tom Ford, ain't you ashamed to tell me 
 that story?" said the overseer. "What dat I say, Mr. 
 Gunn ? Did I say greens ? I should er said ing'ons ; yes, 
 sir, I should er said ing'ons ! " Being a hopeless case, 
 he was allowed to go, with a short sermon on the sin of 
 lying, to digest along with his onions. 
 
 Our uncle came to the landing one day to be put 
 across the river in a hurry, and seeing no one else, he 
 said, " Here, now, Tom, you look mighty spry this 
 morning; why can't you row me over? " The old head 
 took on its mournful shake until Uncle Tom 'spied the 
 half-dollar in Uncle's hand. He hesitated, moved slowly 
 towards the boat and stooped with a grunt to unfasten 
 the chain, but raised himself and leaned on his staff. 
 
 [11] 
 
When I Was a Little Girl 
 
 "Mars' Stuart," he said, "maybe I kin git you 'cross, 
 dough hit do hurt my back, if ye jes' won't let on ter 
 Mr. Gunn, caze he'll have me rowin' dis boat fo' mile 
 ter town, upstream." 
 
 On our return, a crowd of little darkies, with beam- 
 ing faces and flying feet, collected around us with offer- 
 ings of shells from the river bank, pretty "blossoms," 
 wild grapes, persimmons, sweet gum, bright leaves, and 
 many other treasures of the woods and fields. They 
 dropped off one by one as we neared the house, where 
 we found the usual number of the people to see Marster 
 and Mistis on business. 
 
 Sometimes it was to ask permission to go off the 
 place for a visit; sometimes to beg the use of a mule for 
 a ride; sometimes a new baby to show off, in which case 
 a certain trunk was opened, producing a flowered china 
 mug, a shining plated silver spoon, a cake of sweet soap, 
 a pretty sack or wrapper, or a brilliant striped blanket 
 from the ample supply always on hand for such occasions. 
 
 "Well, Fort'n, here you are again; what can I do 
 for you?" said Grandfather, with a twinkle in his eye, 
 as a bright-faced man appeared, followed by a young 
 woman, black as night, with downcast eyes, a dimple in 
 her cheek, and hands rolled up in her apron. "Well, 
 Marster, me an' Chloe was wishin' ter ax yer advice, — 
 dat is ter say, yer permission, sir, — you an' Mistis — ." 
 He looked at his companion. "I ain't axin' nothin'," 
 said Chloe, tossing her head. "Well, Marster, her 
 word's out, an' she say she'll have me ef you an' Mistis 
 ain't got no objections." "That's good," said Grand- 
 father; "you shall have my blessing and a fine wedding 
 feast, too, but what's this — another couple? Lynch 
 and Ellen ! Why, Lynch, ain't you too old to get mar- 
 ried?" "No, sir, Marster; what ye talkin' about? I 
 
 [12] 
 
Penultima and Its People 
 
 ain't too ole ter hoe my row in de cotton, is I?" said 
 Uncle Lynch, straightening himself up and looking with 
 pride at his gentle, kindly, middle-aged bride-to-be. 
 "That's so," said Grandfather, "it's never too late to 
 mend, or to marry, — blessings on you, too. And still 
 they come! Alex and Mehalyl" "Yes, Marster, us 
 wants ter marry, too." "Well, well I A triple wedding ! 
 The mistress will have to stir herself to have so many 
 white dresses ready, but you shall have them. I love to 
 see the good work go on. We'll have a big time." 
 
 And a big time we certainly had. Those white dresses 
 were forthcoming when the time arrived, embroidered 
 Swiss, with three wide flounces on the skirts, and angel 
 sleeves ; long white veils and wreaths of flowers delighted 
 their hearts. Nice black suits were provided for the 
 men, and all wore white cotton gloves. 
 
 The ceremony was performed in our long dining- 
 room, the three couples standing in a semicircle, with 
 two bridesmaids and groomsmen apiece, and each party 
 with its candle-bearer. " I wants Marster ter marry 
 me," said Aunt Ellen. " I ain't studdin' none er you 
 nigger preachers I " They all followed suit, so Grand- 
 father, after what I thought the grandest speech I ever 
 heard, pronounced them man and wife, or men and 
 wives, and they were married! " Yes, of co'se, our sort 
 o' marryin'," they said. 
 
 We had a long table in the yard lighted with many 
 lanterns, and killed the fatted calf, and pigs, turkeys and 
 chickens, too. They danced all over the long galleries 
 to the music of Yeller Joe's banjo, and all the fiddles the 
 plantation afforded. The musicians played and danced 
 by turns, and all we children danced reels and cotillions 
 with them until supper was ready, when Grandfather 
 
 [13] 
 
When I Was a Little Girl 
 
 said the hilarity was beyond our bounds, and they con- 
 tinued the festivities at their homes, far into the night. 
 
 Each season brought its new work and new pleasure 
 at Penultima. The winter, though short, was quite 
 severe and disagreeable; dull, heavy clouds obscured the 
 sun, and steady rain, with an occasional freeze, drenched 
 our level country for days, and even weeks, together; 
 roads were impassable and boating for pleasure out of 
 all question. The boys would sometimes venture forth 
 for a ride or hunt, but gladly returned to home and solid 
 comfort. The storm-bound wayfarer, not infrequently 
 detained within our walls, was hailed with delight, 
 bringing news from the outside world. 
 
 Turning from the dismal outlook and driven to our 
 own resources for occupation and amusement, we met 
 with generous aid and encouragement within; warmth 
 and cheer greeted us from the great blazing, sparkling 
 wood fires. The ladies busied themselves with sewing 
 and fancy-work, and we children studied hard with Miss 
 Hale, receiving due encouragement and reward, each 
 one, from Grandfather down, showing the greatest 
 interest in our work. 
 
 In the long dining-room in the evenings, we had 
 noisy games, blood-curdling ghost stories, nut-cracking, 
 candy-pulling, corn-popping, and many other schemes 
 for fun, which no one but our Torm could have devised 
 or executed. 
 
 Grandfather's choice library afforded reading for 
 old and young, and the boats coming up the river two or 
 three times a week, brought Harper's, and other maga- 
 zines, Godey's Ladies' Book, letters and papers, planta- 
 tion supplies, and delicacies for the table, and boxes 
 from tailors, dressmakers and milliners, and, returning, 
 carried off cotton bales and other produce, and firewood, 
 
 [14] 
 
Penultima and Its People 
 
 cut and corded by the negroes, and sold for their own 
 private benefit. 
 
 In our passionate love of music, the entire family 
 joyfully agreed, and we had thorough instruction, — 
 both vocal and instrumental — from Miss Hale, until the 
 time when we all took advantage of opportunities 
 afforded us in the cities. I look back upon our efforts 
 in this direction with the utmost delight, bringing us all 
 together for singing, dancing, or, best of all to me, to 
 hear Reggie play his violin, with the flute and piano 
 accompaniment. All the new songs found their way to 
 our home, and voices being easily found for the different 
 parts among so many, they were carefully studied and 
 practiced, and very well rendered. The music was 
 simple and the rhymes quite sentimental. I wish I could 
 recall the love-sick words of " Willie, We Have Missed 
 You," with its large illustration of the couple, stiffly and 
 laboriously embracing as closely as the enormous hoop- 
 skirt would admit, — or the die-away strains of "Thou 
 Wilt Come No More, Gentle Annie — e — e." We prac- 
 ticed church music a great deal; Miss Hale led and 
 instructed the choir, which was composed of most of the 
 young people. We had a dear little church about two 
 miles from the river, in a beautiful place, which was 
 centrally located for our own, and what we called " the 
 other neighborhood," back among the hills. There was 
 a miniature rectory in the rear of the church, which was 
 the home'for many years of our good Mr. Halstead 
 and his gentle, kindly wife; closed for weeks together, 
 while the dear old couple occupied a warm corner in the 
 homes and hearts of their people. 
 
 We had choir practice in the church when it was 
 convenient, or at one or another of the homes. Miss 
 Hale taught me with special care, at Grandfather's 
 
 [15] 
 
When I Was a Little Girl 
 
 wish, in order that I might take her place when she 
 should leave us. 
 
 Sometimes the girls had friends to spend the Christ- 
 mas Holidays with them, and for the dances we had 
 then, Big Tom and Dalton, twin brothers from the quar- 
 ters, were summoned to furnish the music. They were 
 gigantic negroes, exactly alike, as black as night, but 
 with teeth and dimples which any belle might have 
 envied. They never wearied; but with Yellow Joe to 
 pick the banjo, and Grandmother, Miss Hale or myself 
 at the piano, they played their fiddles until daylight, 
 calling the figures in the sing-song, but most inspiring, 
 voices peculiar to themselves, and stopping occasionally 
 to tune up, both the instruments and the inner man, — 
 Grandfather knowing exactly how much egg-nog would 
 make them lively, and when to send them home, happy 
 and sleepy. We had a rousing band, and defied the 
 oldest, stiff est legs to keep still. They were busy, happy 
 days for us all, and came to an end all too soon. 
 
 The Lenten season was drawing to a close one April 
 in the long ago, and there was much to be done in order 
 that Penultima should bloom forth in all her glory for 
 the coming Easter-tide, the queen of festivals, and sec- 
 ond in Grandfather's mind only to Christmas. As it 
 was the time of year to put in the new crop, the whole 
 plantation, indoors and out, was in an uproar of excite- 
 ment and busy preparation. The church must be dressed, 
 the big old house must be swept and garnished, and the 
 flower gardens on each side of the house planted. 
 
 With the earliest Spring days could be seen Mr. 
 Gunn, the lank, round-shouldered, red-headed, freckled- 
 faced overseer, on his slow, but sure, sorrel horse, 
 drawling out his orders to the men, about plows, har- 
 
 [16] 
 
THE RECTOR 
 
Penultima and Its People 
 
 > 
 
 ness, cleaning up ground and general preparations for 
 the year's crop. 
 
 Barrels of prepared whitewash were carted from 
 one end of the plantation to the other, escorted by a 
 brush brigade of the old men and others unfitted for the 
 hardest labor, who plied their trade until buildings, 
 fences, bridges, and even some of the trees, boldly 
 asserted their presence under three coats of the glaring, 
 purifying disinfectant. Trees were topped and trimmed ; 
 the lawn was raked and swept; fields were cleared, and 
 the debris lighted into enormous bonfires, 'round which 
 the younger negroes danced and played games late into 
 the night, while they watched that no harm came to 
 buildings or fences. 
 
 Within the house, warm, bright carpets and heavy 
 draperies disappeared, floors were waxed and polished 
 to the danger line, rugs placed here and there, with 
 bright strips in the much-used places; ruffled curtains of 
 white muslin floated in the breeze, which could always 
 be found somewhere about the old house. The enor- 
 mous fire-places were never screened, but whitewashed 
 as far up as could be seen, and filled with fresh-smelling 
 evergreens, into which we children were pleased to min- 
 gle the brilliant wild flowers gathered from the fields 
 and woods in our daily walks. 
 
 These changes in the home were accomplished with 
 the utmost discrimination under Grandmother's quiet 
 rule, for with a perfect understanding of the minds of 
 men in general, and that of her own man in particular, 
 she carefully avoided all appearance of evil in the form 
 of Spring-cleaning, while silently and surreptitiously, 
 with energy and dispatch, every detail of the great work 
 was pursued to a thorough end. 
 
 [17] 
 
When I Was a Little Girl 
 
 Nature contributed munificently to the universal 
 adornment, in bright sunshine, blue skies, and green 
 grass, and the countless wild flowers which glorified our 
 Southland. The broad plantations along the river were 
 kept in a state of thorough cultivation, but the rolling 
 woodlands in the rear were given over to luxuriant 
 growth and brilliant bloom, forming a glowing back- 
 ground for the brown acres of low ground sloping to 
 the water's edge, where palmettoes and May-apples 
 grew. Beautiful pond-lilies covered the surface of the 
 shallow pools in their own curious way, and the green 
 willows fringed the levee, forever dipping their long 
 plume-like boughs into the flowing river, or lashing them- 
 selves in mimic fury, as a passing steamboat sent the 
 yellow waves rolling ashore. 
 
 Violets, pansles and daisies, clover, dandelions and 
 verbena, bluebells, oxalis, and bright-colored phlox cov- 
 ered the face of the earth, while the stately goldenrod 
 lifted its military plumes alongside hydrangeas, laurel, 
 milkweed, and blood-red consumption flowers; alder, 
 sumac and thistle grew in the corners of the crooked rail 
 fence, and flowering vines and trees more conspicuously 
 put forth their fragrance and beauty. Wild roses, grape- 
 vines and honeysuckle, yellow jessamine, purple clematis, 
 morning glories, and the gorgeous trumpet flower blos- 
 somed everywhere, and the passion-vine ran wild, 
 turning its purple flowers with their mystical crosses to 
 the sun above the tall grass, and hiding the May-pops 
 underneath, where they lay, telling their names as wc 
 trod upon them in our eager search. We cut them into 
 baskets and all manner of fancy shapes in their green 
 gourd-like state, and ate them with forced relish as they 
 ripened, yellow, shriveled and insipid. 
 
 [18] 
 
THE RECTOR'S WIFE 
 
Penultima and Its People 
 
 There grew the fringe-tree, sour-wood, and starry 
 white dog-wood, the red bud, hawthorn, and the elegant 
 magnolia with its shining leaves and great wax-like 
 blossoms, so deathly white and sweet; the wild plum and 
 cherry, and the exquisitely delicate violet-scented crab- 
 apple. 
 
 Many of these beautiful gifts of nature were in sea- 
 son at Easter, and were carried in wagon-loads to the 
 church, where they were placed in lavish profusion with 
 roses, lilies, snowballs, spirea, almond, heliotropes and 
 geraniums, from the gardens and hot-houses of the 
 neighboring homes. The choice blossoms were arranged 
 by loving, reverent hands among the candles on the 
 white-draped altar, the prayer desk, pulpit and lectern, 
 while others were piled in windows, twined around rail- 
 ings, wreathed among pillars and banked high against 
 the wall in jars of all sizes, whose unsightly appearance 
 was concealed by moss and evergreens, all arranged so 
 as to form miniature mountains, radiant with the fresh- 
 ness and beauty of the woods and fields. When we had 
 cleared away the rubbish, leaving all in readiness for 
 Easter morning, we regarded the outcome of our efforts 
 with deep satisfaction; and nograndcity cathedral, with 
 its magnificent decorations of elaborately wrought flor- 
 ist's designs, tall palms and costly hot-house flowers, 
 was ever half so beautiful In our partial eyes as our own 
 little brown church among the vines. 
 
 One evening early in May, Grandfather came in late 
 after a long ride over the plantation, called for Torm to 
 take his tired horse, cast aside his hat, gloves and riding 
 whip, and threw himself on the lounge in Grandmother's 
 room. "Well, Miriam," he said, "I may now express 
 my relief and thankfulness that the peril which threat- 
 ened us is past; for weeks we have lived through the 
 
 [19] 
 
When I Was a Little Girl 
 
 days and slept through the nights, many feet below the 
 level of the river, steadily rising and threatening every 
 moment to break the levee. We have labored faithfully, 
 strengthening weak points, watching day and night, and 
 measuring the flood at intervals. Yesterday I scarcely 
 dared trust my senses, or the assurances of the experi- 
 enced men on the place, that the water was falling, having 
 remained at a stand for several days. Now, there is a 
 fall of two inches, and I feel that we are safe, unless we 
 have a heavier rain than any we have had yet, which is 
 hardly possible, and there is surely no appearance of 
 it now." 
 
 In the fullness of his relief. Grandfather retired 
 early and slept the sleep of the just, undisturbed by the 
 flashing lightning, the rising wind, or the cloudburst 
 which descended upon us in the dead hour of the night. 
 To this day, I look back upon that storm as the most 
 awful in all my experience. Grandfather's words — 
 " unless we have a heavier rain than any we have had 
 yet," seemed to add fury to the thundering downpour, 
 and I lay awake in the next room listening to his snoring, 
 imagining the noise of the storm was the rushing of great 
 waters let loose upon us, trembling and fearing, yet not 
 daring to get up in the dark and call. 
 
 Suddenly, at the dismal hour of four in the morning, 
 the loud clang of the great plantation bell broke into the 
 roar of the storm, continuing its rapid, startling sum- 
 mons, and at the same time I heard a faint tap on the 
 window, and the soft voice of Austin, the foreman, call- 
 ing, " Marster! Marsterl For Gawd's sake, Marster, 
 come ! De levee done broke, an' de water's runnin' 
 'cross de turn row in de upper fiel' jes' dis side de gin! 
 Oh, Gawd A'mighty ! Gawd A'mighty !" 
 
 [20] 
 
Penultima and Its People 
 
 "Austin! " sternly said Grandfather, who was at the 
 window before the man had finished speaking. " Be a 
 man — the people all look to you — tell Torm to get my 
 horse — call Mr. Gunn — I'll be with you." 
 
 And before I could collect my senses he was gone 
 out into the night. I cried in terror, but Grandmother's 
 firm voice and touch quieted me, and, following her 
 example, I dressed quickly and went to call Reggie and 
 the others. Before it was light the rain was over and 
 the whole place in an uproar of excitement. 
 
 Rousing Mammy, Grandmother left her in charge 
 of the children, and Aunt Eunice, who was ill; and tak- 
 ing Jane with her, went to the scene of the disaster to 
 assure herself of Grandfather's safety. Almost imme- 
 diately she found herself surrounded by her children, 
 and the scene was far beyond my power to describe. 
 You have all seen illustrations and heard accounts of 
 floods, and I can only say they are not exaggerated. 
 
 The break had occurred in a private levee, which 
 had been hastily thrown up, as the unprecedented rise 
 threatened a certain part of the place, and the entire 
 force was engaged at this point, throwing on logs and 
 filling in with earth here and there, but it was soon evi- 
 dent that nothing could be accomplished. The stream 
 crossing the road, which Austin had reported, increased 
 in volume and velocity, at such an incredible rate, that 
 Grandfather, after regarding the torrent for a moment, 
 gave up all hope of his crop, and turned his attention to 
 saving livestock and everything movable on the place. 
 
 Deeply touched by the heroic efforts of the men to 
 save his property, he turned to the overseer and said, 
 "Call them in, Gunn. I will not have them exposed to 
 this danger to their health, if not life." 
 
 [21] 
 
When I Was a Little Girl 
 
 "Why, Colonel! Why, sir," remonstrated the man, 
 
 "a half hour's hard work may save part of " But 
 
 with one indignant look. Grandfather urged his fright- 
 ened horse a httle farther up the main levee, and himself 
 sent such a shout of recall across the raging waters that 
 not a man dared disobey, though in their ardor and 
 excitement many of them would have gone recklessly on 
 with their desperate task. 
 
 Calling Mr. Gunn, who was not in sight when he 
 returned, he gave some rapid orders about the work of 
 saving, which admitted of no delay, and then said, " Re- 
 member, sir, in future, nothing is of value to me, 
 compared with the safety of my people. See that the 
 men who have been at work all night are allowed to rest 
 as soon as possible." 
 
 There was little rest, however, for man or beast that 
 day; a scene of the wildest confusion and excitement 
 followed, when it was known that all hope of saving the 
 place was over — Penultima was "going under" — a 
 thing unknown to the oldest inhabitant. The women 
 shouted and prayed, with screaming children clinging to 
 their skirts, and even the strong men seemed paralyzed 
 at the awful sight revealed by the light of approaching 
 day. 
 
 Streams of turbid, foaming water were rushing down 
 upon the field from fresh breaks which followed each 
 other in rapid succession, and stout indeed must have 
 been the heart which could have regarded such a scene 
 unmoved. Stout hearts we had among us, however, 
 which were proven and found worthy that day. 
 
 Among the negroes, as in all other classes, are to be 
 found those born to rule; Grandfather recognized and 
 singled out these characters, secured their attention, and 
 in a few sentences, short and to the point, represented to 
 
 [22] 
 
Penultima and Its People 
 
 them that their safety and that of us all, depended upon 
 their obedience and prompt action. They gathered 
 around him, in their helplessness, trusting implicitly in 
 his judgment, receiving his rapid, comprehensive orders, 
 which they carried out to the letter, with the help of the 
 weaker vessels, who gladly followed in their lead, reduc- 
 ing the confusion to order, none too soon. 
 
 The house, being on the highest point of the planta- 
 tion, was considered safe temporarily, and Grandfather 
 and Grandmother went together to the quarters to com- 
 fort and reassure the old and sick and little children, 
 and superintend their removal, with their bedding, 
 clothing, cooking utensils, their chickens, and whatever 
 could be hurriedly collected into wagons, to a part of 
 the place situated in the hills, where Mr. Gunn, with a 
 number of men, constructed, with the utmost haste, a 
 very long, broad shed, with bunks along each side and 
 a wide street through the center, called " The Camp." 
 
 All was soon in readiness, and great was the relief 
 when the procession moved off, carrying the helpless ones 
 with loads of provisions, and all things necessary for 
 their comfort. Mammy Judy and her wagon-load of 
 babies bringing up the rear, with tins rattling, gourds 
 bouncing, children screaming, and bright-colored bed 
 quilts flapping in the wind. 
 
 The animals were collected and carried to the hills 
 in droves; astonished turkeys, chickens, ducks and geese 
 were snatched from their roosting places, imprisoned In 
 baskets, and carried off to the hills, their cackling and 
 quacking mingling with the universal din. 
 
 The work progressed in hot haste, and when the sun 
 rose, warm and bright, bringing courage and hope to 
 fainting hearts, the scene took on a more cheery aspect, 
 the comical side coming more and more to the front. 
 
 [23] 
 
When I Was a Little Girl 
 
 "Lord, Marster," said Austin, "ain't dis er pity, 
 ain't dis er pity! If dat levee jes' only had er hilt out 
 two mo' days, us would er been all right! Nummine — 
 I boun' I'll be ready fer de nex' overflow, mun, ef I has 
 ter staht on dat levee no sooner en dis water go offen us. 
 I lay hit ain't er gwine ter ketch me wid my breeches 
 down [unprepared] no mo' 1 " 
 
 Many were the ludicrous accidents, and shouts of 
 laughter could be heard from these April-hearted chil- 
 dren of Nature, as one after another would be jostled 
 Into the water, or a refractory sow raised her rasping 
 voice in indignant protest at being routed from her bed 
 of soft mud and forced, against her will, into a place of 
 safety, with her squealing babies. 
 
 When Grandfather came in to dinner we were on a 
 slowly diminishing island, and Mr. Gunn's house, on a 
 smaller one, a half mile away, the hill, with the long 
 shed and Innumerable camp fires showing In the distance. 
 Grandfather said he still hoped the yard would not go 
 under, and if It did, the water must rise several feet 
 before It would enter the house, so we were not to leave 
 home, much to our delight, and we had high hopes that 
 we were to step out of the door Into the skiff, like others 
 we read about, which hopes were fully realized by the 
 next day, and for a time grave fears were entertained 
 that the house would be flooded. We escaped that, but 
 enjoyed the novelty of fishing from the galleries and 
 rowing about the yard, and Into the garden and orchard 
 for fresh fruits and vegetables. 
 
 Hearing signs of distress In the nursery one morning, 
 I looked in and saw Mammy with her apron over her 
 head, rocking back and forth, and crying aloud, "Oh, 
 what dat dey say! — de baby fall in de overflow! Oh, 
 Lord ! Oh, Lord I How come I let dat chile go walkin' 
 
 [24] 
 
Penultima and Its People 
 
 wid dem gals?" meaning Dorothy and Cornelia. The 
 levee was not yet under water entirely, our place being 
 flooded from what we called backwater from the swamp, 
 and a bridge of planks was laid from the highway on 
 the levee to our steps, supported between by logs in the 
 water. Similar walks were constructed to the kitchen, 
 which was what you could call a half block from the. 
 house, and other places in the yard, and one from the 
 overseer's house to the levee. All too slight and insecure 
 they proved, but when we were too weary of the house, 
 we were allowed to walk on the highway, and Mammy 
 had been persuaded to let Patty go. I tried to comfort 
 her, but she was off before she could hear me, running 
 like mad across the bridge, collecting an army of follow- 
 ers in her flight, until she met Jane, coming to meet her 
 with Patty safe and dry in her arms. ^^How come you 
 all tell me dat? " she cried when she could find her voice. 
 " Tell you what? " asked Jane ; " 'tain't nobody tole you 
 nothin' but Gunn's chile fell off de plank I " Mammy's 
 contemptuous ejaculations were unspellable, and seizing 
 Patty, she turned back, but Cornelia came running up, 
 calling, "Oh, Mammy, do give her to Jane, and go with 
 me to help poor Mrs. Gunn. You know what to do 
 better than I do." " 'Tain't nothin' ail her, I tell you. 
 Missy, — dat chile done out de water gins' now — do 
 her good, anyhow — nasty little so'-eyedpo' white folks! 
 I gwine ter take Patty home, an' you better come, too — 
 gittin' yer dress all draggled up fer nothin' I " 
 
 " Better give Patty to me," said Torm, appearing on 
 the scene and seeing Mammy's excited state of mind. 
 "Git out er my way, nigger; 'tain't nobody gwine tech 
 dis chile but me, — I don had skeer ernough. I notter 
 gwine ter let her out er my sight no mo' — move, I tell 
 yerl" And forgetting the caution that she constantly 
 
 [25] 
 
When I Was a Little Girl 
 
 impressed upon us, Mammy strode over the rickety 
 bridge, becoming more nervous at each step. "O-o — e-e ! 
 Don't walk so close berhine me, Torm! O-o — e-el" 
 Splash! went the end of the plank off the rolling log, 
 and down went our Mammy, yielding up the baby, and 
 looking at Torm just in time to see him explode with 
 laughter. All hands rushed to her assistance with gen- 
 uine concern, but there was no real danger, the water 
 being not nearly so deep and dark as Mammy's wrath, 
 emphatically expressed, as, dripping dismally, she hur- 
 ried out of sight around the side gallery. 
 
 In about fifteen days, we were left high and dry, 
 having sustained much less damage than many of our 
 neighbors, and In a few weeks things were going on as 
 before, and our overflow was a thing of the past. 
 
 [26] 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 A Visit to Melville Manor. 
 
 THE country was closely settled with substantial 
 old homes, costly, elegant mansions, and simple, 
 comfortable dwellings, among whose Inmates 
 friendships were Inherited along with the family silver. 
 Honor, refinement and pride of birth held precedence 
 among us ; wealth and display received no consideration 
 whatever. Visits were of frequent or daily occurrence, 
 when the weather was at all suitable, old and young 
 coming and going, to call, spend a day or a morning, an 
 afternoon or an evening, driving home eight or ten miles 
 after tea. Social intercourse was cordial, affectionate 
 and familiar, absolutely without form or ceremony, and 
 yet the coming of "comp'ny" never failed to create a 
 stir in the household. With flying feet and rolling eyes, 
 the twins appeared In Grandmother's room, and each 
 struggling to be first, they delivered themselves in one 
 breath of the startling announcement: "H' yon come 
 a ca'iage ! " Instantly Grandmother was on her feet, and 
 
 [27] 
 
When I Was a Little Girl 
 
 reducing her movements by an effort to almost, but not 
 quite, their usual dignified composure, she approached 
 the bureau, smoothed her soft hair, examined her fault- 
 less collar critically in the mirror, and selected a clean 
 handkerchief of suitable quality from her top drawer, 
 issuing orders meanwhile : "Cely, call your Aunt Polly 
 to me, and then run quickly and open the front gate. 
 N^ncy, pick up my scissors and thimble, and wind up the 
 thread on my spool; pick up all these scraps from the 
 carpet and sweep the hearth; they will come in here to 
 take off their bonnets if they are going to spend the day; 
 be quick, now — where's Torm? Where is Torm?" 
 " Here I is, Mistis," answered Torm, coming on the 
 run, " Torm, open up the parlor and see if the fire needs 
 more wood." " Polly," as Mammy hurried in, " is there 
 any cake in the house? " " De law, Mistis, dem chillun 
 done et up de las' er de cake I made yistiddy, but I kin 
 make some er dem little thin tea cakes, nice an' hot, gins' 
 dey gits set down good." "Well, do, Polly; open a 
 bottle of muscadine wine and empty it into a decanter; 
 get the silver waiter and some wine glasses, and small 
 napkins, and have Torm hand it in." 
 
 "Miranda," said Aunt Eunice, "wash Patty's face 
 and hands and put a clean apron on her, and [in an 
 undertone] do see that her nose is clean. Take the baby 
 off; she's cross and sleepy." 
 
 The girls came from their room, vainly endeavoring 
 to subdue the rustle of fresh toilets, — all followed 
 Grandmother to the front door,. Aunt Eunice holding 
 clean, uncomfortable Patty with one hand, and some 
 light sewing hastily picked up in the other, combining 
 ease and cordiality in the welcoming smile. 
 
 Only the breeze rustled the leaves on the drive. 
 "Cely, hasn't the carriage come to the gate yet?" 
 
 [28] 
 
A Visit to Melville Manor 
 
 " Ya-as'um" — waiting — smiling. "Why, where is the 
 carriage?" "Hit done pass on by I" "Hi!" said 
 Mammy, peering In at the back door. "Ain't dey no 
 comp'ny come yit? " All was explained, and Cely duly 
 condemned. 
 
 "Mammy, did you make the cakes?" said little 
 Patty. " De law bless de chile, dem cakes Is er burnin' ! " 
 and Mammy rushed out, followed by Patty and the 
 twins. "Git out er here, Cely! You allers up to sum- 
 p'n! ril ketch you, madam, an' I lay I'll choke yo' 
 tongue out, mun! Git out er dis kitchen!" But Cely 
 feasted on scorched cakes with the others. She was the 
 moving spirit of the two, receiving most of the notice, 
 complimentary and otherwise, — Nancy being a quiet, 
 gentle, dull little thing, whom everybody loved when 
 they happened to think about her. 
 
 The long, bright summer was a happy time at Penul- 
 tlma. School was out, and with deep sighs of relief, we 
 cast away our books and gave ourselves up to the varied 
 pleasures of the season. Picnics were joyful occasions 
 to us then; collecting crowds of children from all over 
 the neighborhood, we would take our lunch and go after 
 blackberries for jam, but Grandmother's supply would 
 have fallen far short of the demands of her great family 
 if It had not been for the servants she sent to take care 
 of us, and to do the work, while we ate the lunch and 
 played in the woods and fields. 
 
 We had an abundance of fruit, and later in the season 
 large baskets full were brought In and prepared in vari- 
 ous ways for winter use. By the side of the path lead- 
 ing to the wash-house were three wide-spreading apple 
 trees, and in their shade could be seen a little crowd of 
 women, working under Mammy's directions, peeling 
 and cutting the fruit, and cooking It In large brass kettles, 
 
 [29] 
 
When I Was a Little Girl 
 
 placed on bricks over the fire. Quantities of It were dried 
 on long scaffolds in the hot sun. 
 
 Grandmother would walk out to them occasionally 
 with some directions, and delight their hearts with a 
 word of praise. 
 
 Absent children brought their friends home for vaca- 
 tion ; relatives and friends in the neighborhood came to 
 welcome them, and our big house was headquarters. 
 There were no special entertainments, but a continuation 
 of breakfasts, dinners and teas, with riding, driving and 
 boating, playing and dancing, and singing, between 
 times. 
 
 Grandfather and Grandmother had the reputation 
 of being the most successful matchmakers in the country, 
 which they stoutly denied, but the number of weddings 
 following these seasons in the country was remarkable, 
 and the boys did not fail to count them up, charging the 
 old folks to be careful and leave to Heaven its proverbial 
 duty of match-making. 
 
 The long galleries were cool, the hammocks and 
 rocking chairs Inviting, to say nothing of the deep, shady 
 lawn, with its rustic seats here and there and everywhere 
 — sometimes a smooth rock, a comfortable bend in the 
 root of some enormous tree, or the long, soft, uncut 
 grass. 
 
 The summer is long in our Southland, but it was hard 
 to realize that it was past and gone, as one by one the 
 guests bethought themselves of duties set aside for Octo- 
 ber. Reluctant were the farewells and quick the promises 
 to come again next summer, or possibly Christmas. 
 
 " Bring me my little shawl, Miriam," Grandmother 
 would say. "Autumn is in the air, — we cannot sit on the 
 gallery many more evenings, but the sunset is too beau- 
 tiful to leave." And long after the others had left us 
 
 [30] 
 
A Visit to Melville Manor 
 
 alone, she would sit with my head in her lap, her dear 
 hands fondling my hair, and talk to me of my father 
 and mother. 
 
 "Grandmother," I said to her, " I heard Mr, Gunn 
 say that my father was a leveler. He said the Colonel 
 was mighty free with his money, and would do a poor 
 man a good turn any time, when he got in trouble, but 
 he had to reach down to do it; but young Donald was 
 always right with z fellow, no matter how low down he 
 got. He was a leveler/ Grandmother, I thought you 
 would be angry I " " No, my darling, " she said ; " why 
 should I be angry? That ignorant man paid your 
 dear father the highest compliment within his under- 
 standing. Donald was a true leveler. He was a noble- 
 man after Nature's highest type; truth and charity 
 emanated from his being, like rays from the sun; he 
 indignantly repelled the idea of keeping the ignorant in 
 their place, believing that their place should be elevated 
 by earnest efforts of the more fortunate ; he chose for his 
 friends those upon whom he could bestow benefits. When 
 he was a little child, your Grandfather has said to me, 
 'Miriam, can it be that our boy has low tastes?' and 
 anxiously we watched his course, only to see that his 
 nature was too pure to be contaminated." "Just like 
 you 1 My dear, beautiful Grandmother ! " I cried, press- 
 ing her hand to my face; and so Grandfather found us 
 when he came for her, and together they took me in 
 from the night, as they had taken me in from the cold 
 world a few years before. 
 
 Soon the evenings grew dark and chill, the sparkling 
 fires tempted us within, — we gathered around the hearth, 
 and the happy summer was over. With but a passing 
 sigh of regret, we turned our thoughts to the future, 
 
 [31] 
 
When I Was a Little Girl 
 
 more bright and beautiful than the past in our youthful 
 imagination. 
 
 Twice a year, and oftener if occasion required, Grand- 
 mother visited her mother at Melville Manor, forty 
 miles inland from Penultima. Grandfather attended to 
 the management of her place, as she was very old and 
 lived with her invalid son and two maiden daughters, a 
 helpless and dependent family. 
 
 One morning near the end of October, I started up 
 from a sound sleep with a vague feeling that something 
 new and delightful was going to happen. What was it? 
 What was the meaning of the hurried footsteps, resound- 
 ing voices and general bustle and preparation? Why 
 was Rachel, one of the younger maids, standing at my 
 bedside with a candle in her hand, calling me to " Wake 
 up, Missy ! Hit's time ter git up " — at this hour of the 
 night — or could it be morning? Where was Mammy? 
 Where was Jane? "Mammy gittin' ready, an' Aun' 
 Jane waitin' on Mistis. I wisht I was gwine wid yo'all," 
 said Rachel. Finally it dawned upon me that we were 
 going on a journey to Melville Manor. I was always 
 Grandmother's companion, and this time Reggie and 
 Donald were to go, too, much to my joy, and their own. 
 
 We went by private conveyance, and to accomplish 
 the trip In one day, and have time for a long rest at 
 dinner-time, we must start very early, and the boys and 
 I were dressed and out betimes, in a perfect flutter of 
 delight at the novelty of eating breakfast by candle 
 light, watching the lanterns moving about the lot, and 
 the carriage and buggy brought to the door in the grey 
 dawn. The trunk was strapped on behind the carriage, 
 carpetbags, baskets and bundles stowed away, and as 
 the big, round, closely covered cheese-box of lunch was 
 put under the seat, I looked at the boys, and they eyed 
 
 [32] 
 
A Visit to Melville Manor 
 
 the box, and silently we congratulated each other upon 
 the tempting prospect. 
 
 At last we were off, well wrapped up, the horses 
 prancing In the chilly morning air; Grandfather taking 
 the lead, with Grandmother In his buggy, and Uncle 
 Rock driving the carriage with Mammy and ourselves, 
 the boys taking turns riding outside with him. Our way 
 led along the river road for the first four miles, when we 
 turned abruptly to the hill country, almost encircling and 
 keeping in view for many miles, La Vega, the home of 
 Uncle Stuart McNeill, Grandfather's younger brother 
 and our family doctor. The long, low buildings, with 
 their broad latticed verandas and open colonnades, were 
 scattered over three low-lying green hills a mile from 
 the river, and showed up well against a rising, wooded 
 background, the whole being conspicuous from the exten- 
 sive, well-kept gardens, brilliant and beautiful for the 
 greater part of the year. 
 
 Then we passed into the forest, beautiful beyond 
 description in the October weather, over steep hills where 
 we were glad to jump out and walk to relieve the tired 
 horses; through plantations, and two villages or cross- 
 roads, each with its post office, a dwelling or two, and a 
 store, with a string of tin cups over the door, bunches of 
 brooms tied together so they would stand alone, jars of 
 red and white candy in the windows, and a man patiently 
 waiting for customers. Then we came to Black River, a 
 small stream scarcely worthy of so dignified a name, but 
 which must be crossed on a ferry boat, and driving down 
 the steep bank to the water's edge. Uncle Rock got out 
 and, making a trumpet of his hands, he shouted like 
 this, — "E — who — e — e — e!" He had to repeat his 
 call several times before Mr. McNemara, the sleepy 
 boatman, appeared in the door of his shanty on the other 
 
When I Was a Little Girl 
 
 shore, running his thumb under his one " gallus " and 
 cramming his torn hat down to his eyes. 
 
 He stepped down the steep bank, unwinding a chain 
 which held the flatboat to a stob driven deep into the 
 mud, jumped aboard and pulled over to us by a rope 
 stretched across the stream, which was low and narrow 
 at this season. Fastening the chain to a stob on our side, 
 he signified without a word that he was ready. We all 
 got out of the carriage, and Uncle Rock drove the horses 
 carefully on, was pulled across, and the boat, returning, 
 carried over the buggy and horse, and all of us except 
 Mammy, who always insisted upon going " when Rock 
 went." Ever since her adventure in our overflow she 
 was " skeered o' water," and did not enjoy the ferry as 
 the rest of us did. 
 
 We were delighted when we had what the boatman 
 called long ferriage in the spring, which, being double 
 price, came early and remained late in the season. Silently 
 he collected the toll, remembering his manners and 
 Grandmother's presence, jerking off his hat when Grand- 
 father dropped a cigar into his hand. 
 
 "Well, Rock," said Grandfather, " do you think we 
 can make it to Grapevine Spring by twelve or half-past ?" 
 " Yes, sir, I'll try f er it," said Uncle Rock. " Dese chil- 
 lun is er gittin' rampageous in here. Git ap, Jim and 
 Brooklin ! Ye mout es well have yer dinner and a drink 
 yerse'f." 
 
 " Keep still, chillun," said Mammy. ** I hope to de 
 Lawd Mistis will git in here herse'f after dinner an' put 
 one er two er you in de buggy ; y'all done lee — ter — mo — 
 ter was'e all my patience — git off er me! Hi I dere's 
 de ole apple tree in de fiel' whar we gits apples every 
 year, an' hit's full now — stop. Rock, an' let de chillun 
 out." " Oh, I ain't got no time to be foolin' wid apples," 
 
 [34] 
 
THE FAMILY DOCTOR 
 
A Visit to Melville Manor 
 
 said Uncle Rock; "ain't ye got 'nuff t' eat in de box? 
 Dey ain't none o' your apples, nohow — Whoa I " And 
 we relieved Mammy of our restless presence for a few 
 minutes, and came back loaded with mellow fruit, which 
 kept us quiet for a time. But it was growing very warm ; 
 we were cramped and tired, and pretty soon Uncle Rock 
 turned out into the woods where there was not a sign of 
 a road, and down a short hill, suddenly coming in sight 
 of the Grapevine Spring, numberless rills, flowing 
 through crevices in the large, moss-covered rocks, which 
 surrounded, and almost concealed, the spring, forming a 
 charming little rivulet, running and gurgling over rocks 
 and pebbles, delightfully cool and inviting, in the dense 
 shade afforded by the great trees, supporting vines fes- 
 tooned from one to another, and bearing long clusters 
 of the fruit from which the place took its name. We 
 gladly got out of the carriage, and ran about the beauti- 
 ful spot, quiet and secluded from the passerby; rabbits 
 scurried here and there, and pretty gray squirrels waved 
 their fluffy tails over their backs as, all unafraid and 
 undisturbed, they pattered over the bright leaves, and 
 raced up the tall trees, leaping among the branches, and 
 swinging in the vines, as they looked quizzically down at 
 us before darting into their holes to store, far out of 
 harm's way, the cherished nuts, carefully collected for 
 winter's use. 
 
 Uncle Rock unhitched the horses — Jim and Brook- 
 lin and Billy — gathered handfuls of hanging moss and 
 rubbed them down carefully before he would let them 
 have a drink, though they begged for it when they saw 
 the tin bucket, rubbing their noses against him, and 
 almost talking. " No, boys, not yit," he would say. 
 "Ain't I done tell ye 'fore now, ye can't git no water 
 while ye so hot? Keep quiet now and git cool while I 
 
 [35] 
 
When I Was a Little Girl 
 
 fix yer dinner, — wait, I tell ye! I'm er comin'. Dar, 
 now, come up ter dis trough — dat is ter say, dis rock, — 
 Hi, dere ! not dat er way ! Ye mus' think ye gwine ter 
 eat wid yer mistis — Come here to me — now! here's 
 yer fodder — here's yer corn. What, — ye won't eat? 
 Jes' can't do it twel ye wet yer throats — Well, I'll hat- 
 ter give ye a little bit — jes' a half a bucket apiece, to 
 wash de dus' out yer throats. Hi, dere, Jim I Keep yer 
 mouf out er Brooks' bucket — you allers would do dat — 
 you's a mean boss ! Now, I reckon yer kin eat, dat's hit. 
 Now, I'll go help Polly." 
 
 But we were not waiting for him. Mammy opened 
 the cheese box and instantly I was plunged from this 
 pinnacle of hope into the depths of grief and despair, as 
 the certainty forced itself upon me that I had forgotten 
 and left hanging upon the curtain rest in Grandmother's 
 room, my dear httle toy carpet-bag, its sides bulging and 
 flap buttoned by such hard pulling, over the lunch I had 
 prepared with such delightto surprise the boys I Oh, those 
 hard-boiled guinea eggs — three of them ! — the smallest, 
 cutest things! — the biscuit and tea cakes cut out with 
 Grandmother's thimble! — that molasses candy which 
 Nervy said would be the whitest I had ever made if I 
 would let her give it one good, hard pull for me, which I 
 did, and she drew it out into long ropes, which she 
 plaited and twisted and curlecued most beautifully; the 
 little boxes of nuts, picked out with such labor and pains, 
 and such terror of being discovered. My lamentations 
 would not be repressed by the loving sympathy I received, 
 but the base, ungrateful ridicule of the boys excited deep- 
 est satisfaction when I considered the loss they had 
 sustained, and drying my tears, I answered Mammy's call 
 for help. Prancing with delight, we gathered dry twigs 
 and bark, and soon the camp fire was burning brightly ; 
 
 [36] 
 
A Visit to Melville Manor 
 
 the coffee pot was filled from the spring and set upon its 
 trivet made of three rocks placed at the proper distances 
 apart near the fire, and spreading a white cloth over 
 some rocks and partly on the grass, Mammy set forth a 
 feast which would have made you wonder if that box 
 was enchanted. Ham and corn drop-cakes, broiled 
 chickens and beaten biscuit, hard-boiled eggs, cheese and 
 pickle, apple crab-lanterns and tea cakes. "Rock, git me 
 a nice forked switch and sharpen de en's," she said. 
 " You know Mistis don't love ham br'iled on de coals." 
 Dinner being over. Mammy took the carriage cush- 
 ions, which had served as seats arranged around our 
 rustic table, and selecting a warm, dry spot where the 
 pine needles were knee-deep under a bright covering of 
 autumn leaves, drifted high against the rocks, she formed 
 a sleepy hollow where she said " Mistis could res' same 
 as ef she was in her feather bed in de house." Calling 
 us to bring her things from the carriage, Grandfather 
 retouched her couch here and there with his own hands, 
 drew the plaid shawl over her shoulders and placed the 
 traveling pillow, with its brown linen case, under her 
 head; then, refusing her offer of one of her cushions, he 
 placed himself against the great rock beside her, lighted 
 a cigar, and opening his new Harper's, he proceeded to 
 rest and enjoy life, and we left them and sought amuse- 
 ment in our own way. " Uncle Rock," said Donald, 
 "are the grapes ripe?" "Law, yes, chile, dey ripe dis 
 time er year," said he, "but I dunno how ye gwine ter 
 git 'em — dey dat high." " Why, Uncle Rock, can't you 
 climb the tree ? " innocently asked the little boy. " Now, 
 jes' listen at dat ! " and leaning over, the old man placed 
 both hands carefully on his knees and laughed in his 
 slow, peculiar way, until Donald thought he would never 
 stop. " Hi, chile, I ain't been up a tree sense yer ma wus 
 
 [37] 
 
When I Was a Little Girl 
 
 born," he said, when he could speak. " I reck'n yo'all 
 hatter git dem grapes yerse'f." And leading Jim up to 
 the vine, he placed the boy on his broad back, where, 
 standing firmly and grasping the vine in one hand, 
 Donald gathered quantities of the purple bunches, and 
 rode in triumph back to the spring, with Uncle Rock 
 leading the horse. 
 
 Seeing Reggie in the water, with his trousers rolled 
 above his knees, he promptly threw his grapes Into 
 Mammy's white apron and followed suit, walking care- 
 fully over the sharp pebbles. 
 
 " Oh, Grandmother I " I cried, running up the bank. 
 " May I wade with the boys? " But the old folks were 
 sleeping too peacefully to be disturbed, and feeling that 
 I had done my best to get permission, I took off my shoes 
 and stockings, and in I plunged, white ruffled pantalettes 
 and all. My enjoyment consisted principally in being 
 able to do whatever the boys did, and I was not sorry 
 when we were called out to get ready to go. 
 
 How it was that the old darkies could wake up just 
 when they wanted to, is a mystery to me to this day, but 
 Uncle Rock, with his head bowed, his hands clasping his 
 knees and holding fast to his hat, seemed to be sleeping 
 soundly, but when two hours' nooning were over, he was 
 up and putting the horses to the carriage. 
 
 " Marster," said he, " ef you 'lows ter git ter ole 
 Mistis' house gins' dark, hit's time us wus a-movin'." 
 
 Reluctantly we made ready and were soon creaking 
 on our way once more, enthusiasm and dinner all gone, 
 and a warm, dusty way before us. But we changed 
 about now, both of the boys going in the buggy, and 
 Grandmother, taking a seat in the carriage, much to 
 Mammy's relief, and my delight, beguiled the weary 
 hours with stories of her childhood and what we would 
 
 [38] 
 
A Visit to Melville Manor 
 
 see at Melville Manor, — and then — "Wake up, little 
 daughter ! Here we are," and it was night, and bright 
 light streamed through the open door from a candle 
 held high in both hands of Uncle Johnnie, the butler, a 
 dapper little man, with white hair and apron, a soft 
 voice and noiseless footsteps, who alone, to my surprise, 
 received us at the door. At Penultima the butler's serv- 
 ice would have been uncalled for, as every member of 
 the family would have been on the steps, " rain or snow, 
 hail or blow," with noisy welcome for the traveller. 
 
 But at Melville Manor a hush seemed to fall upon 
 us as we entered. Uncle Johnnie placed the light on a 
 table, and stepping quickly, he carefully closed the door, 
 and then timidly folded and unfolded his small hands, 
 until they were warmly grasped by both Grandfather 
 and Grandmother in a hearty, hasty greeting, when, 
 trembling with delight, the dear old man ushered us all 
 into the sitting-room, where the gentle welcome, though 
 it awed us into silence, seemed to satisfy our elders. 
 
 Grandmother Melville, in a cap of sheerest white 
 muslin, with a box-pleated border of fine old lace falling 
 lightly over her gray hair, and a kerchief of soft black 
 silk folded on her bosom, occupied an easy chair — she 
 never sat in a rocker — in the warmest corner, for it 
 was cool again in the evening, and as the bright firelight 
 flashed upon her square breastpin, enclosing its single 
 lock of gray hair, and enormous gold-bound spectacles, 
 I caught the gleam of tears, and whispered to Grand- 
 mother, "Oh, is she sorry we have come?" But she 
 only held her close, and Uncle Howard called us to his 
 seat opposite, where he and the Aunties welcomed us. 
 Grandfather was splendid as he passed from one to 
 another, and finally seated himself by the old mother's 
 side, asking affectionately after the welfare of herself 
 
 [39] 
 
When I Was a Little Girl 
 
 and family. Grandmother's face was a picture of love- 
 liness in her joy at this reunion with mother, brother 
 and sisters in her old home. Soon she was called from 
 the room to see some of the old servants, — the aunties 
 resumed their seats and the gentle, well-mannered little 
 buzz occasioned by our arrival subsided. 
 
 I looked around the large, old-fashioned room, with 
 its low ceiling and dead white walls, hung with old por- 
 traits of stout, comfortable-looking gentlemen, with 
 ruffled fronts and tremendous stocks, and slender, meek- 
 looking ladies, with smooth hair and long hands and 
 sharp-pointed bodices. Opposite the door was the 
 fireplace, with its tall andirons, heavy shovel and tongs, 
 and broad fender, the latter standing on six feet, of the 
 lion's claw pattern, in which the toenails were distinctly 
 marked, all of brightest brass, reflecting the firelight 
 and sending it dancing with the utmost temerity and un- 
 seemly merriment over the old high-backed sofas which 
 sternly faced each other from opposite sides of the room, 
 planting their ponderous feet into the dark, large-figured 
 carpet, in all the dignity of age, polished mahogany, and 
 treacherous, forbidding hair-cloth ; the six chairs of the 
 same material which stood in a row at measured dis- 
 tances — three on each side of the door — and the round 
 table which occupied the middle of the room, and held 
 two candles in tall silver candlesticks, and four piles of 
 books arranged so as to form a perfect square. 
 
 On the high, black mantel was a set of brass can- 
 delabra, with dangling, rainbow-hued prisms, which I 
 thought the most wonderfully beautiful things I had ever 
 seen, a double one exactly in the center, and smaller ones 
 on each end; In the spaces between were most exquisite 
 vases of rare old painted china. All stiff and uncompro- 
 mising, but home and contentment for the quiet inmates, 
 
 [40] 
 
GRANDMA MELVILLE 
 
A Vint to Melville Manor 
 
 who would have considered a change in the position of 
 a chair an unwelcome innovation. Out in the hall stood 
 the tall old clock, towering far above Grandfather's 
 head, with its white face and long hands, its picture of 
 the moon in all its phases, and its fearsome inscription, 
 " Time cuts down all, both great and small," ground in 
 a semicircle in large letters in the glass door, which was 
 large enough for Donald to step in. Uncle Johnnie had 
 to stand on a chair to wind it up with a great clumsy key. 
 
 "Well, Mother Melville," said Grandfather, "how 
 do you think Miriam is looking? Here she comes," 
 and rising, he led her to her mother. " Isn't she as fine 
 now, at fifty, as she was when you gave her to me, more 
 than thirty years ago ? " 
 
 "Well, son Donald," said Great Grandmother, "I 
 will say I am pleased with Miriam's looks, and her 
 establishment in life. You have done a good part by her." 
 
 Grandmother laughed, as he gravely bowed his 
 acknowledgments of the compliment which she said he 
 invited. 
 
 It was Grandfather's expressed wish that his wife 
 should always be well dressed, and with her elegant 
 form attired in a handsome, stylish traveling suit, her 
 beautiful hair arranged after the fashion of the day, 
 and her brilliant personality, she presented a striking 
 contrast to her sisters, none the less dainty and delicate, 
 but so severely simple in their clinging frocks of soft 
 black wool, white kerchiefs meekly crossed in front and 
 hair evenly parted and smoothly brushed, and decorated 
 with high-top combs of delicately-carved and polished 
 tortoise shell. 
 
 The door opened just wide enough to admit Uncle 
 Johnnie's anxious face, and Aunt America hurried out 
 to " 'xamine de table." In a few minutes we were called 
 
 [41] 
 
When I Was a Little Girl 
 
 to tea, a very substantial meal in consideration of trav- 
 ellers' appetites, and served in the daintiest way in china 
 of dark, somber blue, with knives and three-pronged 
 forks of polished steel with ivory handles, and spoons 
 with slender stems of a most extraordinary length, and 
 bowls whose diminutive size was most tantalizing as a 
 means of gratifying the hearty desires created in view 
 of the bounties spread before us, though to measure a 
 dose of bitters they would have been just the thing. 
 Candles in brass candlesticks, under tall shades of clear- 
 est cut-glass, lighted and adorned the spotless table. 
 
 After tea, Mammy took us upstairs to the room 
 which had been Grandmother's from the time she was 
 first grown, and Mammy, a young girl herself, had slept 
 on a pallet on the floor, to be near her young mistress. 
 The room was low and the ceiling sloped down on each 
 side; the floor was bare and polished, with bright rugs 
 here and there. The bed was so high that we could not 
 see up on it, until Mammy showed us the steps covered 
 with carpet which were used to chmb to bed ! It had a 
 decorated tester supported upon elaborately carved 
 posts, and was closely curtained all around. The bureau 
 was rounded in front, and the drawers were furnished 
 with heavy brass handles. It stood upon very long legs, 
 which extended all the way to the high top, and were 
 carved to match the bed-posts. A tiny little glass, swing- 
 ing on a curious cablnetof drawers, with miniature brass 
 handles, was placed on top. 
 
 "Are we all going to sleep in one bed. Mammy? " I 
 asked. But she raised the white fringed counterpane, 
 which hung down to the floor, and pulled out a trundle 
 bed for me, and said the boys were to sleep in one just 
 like it in Uncle Howard's room, opposite. 
 
 [42] 
 
A Visit to Melville Manor 
 
 I lay awake a long time, having slept in the carriage 
 in the afternoon, watching the shadows on the wall, and 
 trying to imagine Grandmother looking like that picture 
 hanging above the high mantel, of a school-girl, with 
 long hair plaited down her back, a very short dress, and 
 very long pantalettes. 
 
 Great Grandmother always washed the silver and 
 glasses, and the delicate cups and saucers at the table, 
 and I watched very curiously next morning after break- 
 fast, as Uncle Johnnie made the large preparations for 
 the small job. First a small, low table was placed beside 
 her, with the cedar noggin filled with very hot water; a 
 bowl on a waiter before her held the first water to 
 remove the grease. Two mops, made of coarse home- 
 spun thread, soap and clean towels were brought, and 
 the washing and rinsing and polishing soon left a glitter- 
 ing array for Uncle Johnnie to dispose of. 
 
 Aunt America bustled about the kitchen, storeroom, 
 smokehouse and dairy. Aunt Ann was busy at some- 
 thing better suited to her strength, or want of strength, 
 and Grandmother tried to keep up with all at once, 
 questioning, suggesting, and interested in everything. 
 
 Grandfather took Uncle Howard for a long drive 
 about the place, suggesting changes, and improvements, 
 and making plans for their comfort and convenience 
 during the coming winter. 
 
 Scaly barks did not grow on the river, and wishing 
 to secure a supply from the abundance at Melville Manor 
 to take home with us, the boys and I "took to the woods." 
 Grandmother went with us as far as the quarters, to 
 see Aunt Phillis, Uncle Rock's mother, who was very 
 old and helpless, but always wanted to see Miss Miriam 
 and her children, and she was never neglected. Finding 
 a safe guide and a gang of little companions with baskets 
 
 [43] 
 
When I Was a Little Girl 
 
 for the nuts, she sent us on our way, returning to the 
 house herself, where we followed in a few hours, laden 
 with nuts, grapes, persimmons, paw-paws, black haws, 
 muscadines, brilliant autumn leaves, and buckeyes. Feel- 
 ing lost without Mammy, we searched and found her in 
 the loom-house, superintending the work of cutting and 
 making winter clothing for the negroes. Every available 
 seamstress on the place was called to " de great house," 
 and well I remember the busy scene. 
 
 Aunt Merea, seated on a high bench in front of the 
 great loom, sent her shuttle flying with a rhythmic click- 
 ety-bang-bang, to a running accompaniment of whirring 
 spinning wheels, and the clock reel, which never failed 
 to give me a start, though I was on the lookout for the 
 loud snap, which indicated that one cut had been wound. 
 Mammy stood at a long table, piled with bolts of goods, 
 wielding an enormous, dangerous-looking pair of shears, 
 with which she rapidly reduced the confusion to order, 
 in the shape of a row of neat bundles, which must be 
 marked with the name of the proposed wearer, and then 
 turned over to the group of white-clad women, who sur- 
 rounded her, and formed her corps of able assistants. 
 Steel thimbles with open ends, enormous needles, balls 
 of coarse thread, and lumps of yellow bees-wax were 
 distributed, and they set to work in earnest, occasionally 
 appealing to "Sis' Polly" for advice, which was deliv- 
 ered with the condescending, but kindly, manner always 
 employed by house servants towards " de fiel' ban's." 
 
 Life at Melville Manor must have been very dull 
 and monotonous, but the month we spent there was full 
 of happiness for old and young. We did not rush through 
 life as you do these days, and Grandfather, after attend- 
 ing to the gathering and disposing of the crops, repairing 
 buildings and fences, and setting the plantation to rights, 
 
 [44] 
 
A Visit to Melville Manor 
 
 as he did with such interest and energy, had plenty of 
 time each day to devote to social enjoyment. Being so 
 much out in the world among men and things, he intro- 
 duced an element of life into the quiet family, like fresh 
 air into a close room, and they looked for these visits as 
 events in their lives. With Grandmother, he received 
 and visited the friends of thirty years before, when as a 
 young man he lingered around the old manor, which, 
 being the home of three young ladies, was bright and 
 gay enough then, and sheltered the charm and hope of 
 his life. 
 
 Uncle Rock and Mammy were happy in being 
 restored to the home, family and friends of their child- 
 hood and young days, and being relieved from the daily 
 routine of work, though they made themselves useful in 
 many ways. 
 
 The beautiful weather continued late in the season, 
 and we children made the most of our holiday, spending 
 the greater part of the days in the woods. Each hour 
 possessed its own peculiar charm, but I recall the long 
 evenings, passed with our elders and listening to their 
 talk of old times, with the keenest delight. I never could 
 endure the much-poetized " twilight hour," and watched 
 Uncle Johnnie's preparations for the evening with deep 
 satisfaction. He came with never-failing regularity, 
 and taking the tongs, he pulled the sticks forward on the 
 andirons, and stirred the red-hot coals, sending millions 
 and millions of sparks rolling and snapping in a tumultu- 
 ous uproar, far into the black depths of the great old 
 fireplace, a brilliant display, we never tired of watching; 
 then he hurried out, leaving the door ajar, and quickly 
 returned with the big "back-log," which he placed care- 
 fully in position, followed it up with many smaller ones, 
 and then drawing out the chunks with the tongs, he laid 
 
 [45] 
 
When I Was a Little Girl 
 
 them on top of the great pile, talking care never to 
 reverse the ends, which was bad luck, — they must burn 
 to ashes in as nearly as possible the same position in 
 which they were first placed upon the fire. Then he 
 swept, and swept, 2.n6. swept, until the unoffending ashes, 
 flying in the slight draught, as though vainly endeavor- 
 ing to elude his pursuing broom, were driven far back of 
 the andirons, — then, and not until then, he replaced the 
 broom and, folding his hands in a manner altogether 
 peculiar to himself, he glanced around the room. 
 
 " Let us have the candles, Johnnie," Uncle Howard 
 would say, and then the magazine and the paper were 
 produced, read aloud and discussed. Aunt Ann got out 
 her knitting, and Grandma came in after her nap. 
 
 " Oh, Aunt Ann ! " I said one evening, " please teach 
 me to knit. I want to knit Mammy a pair of gloves." 
 "Yes, darling, I will," she said, "but you must make 
 something simpler before you undertake to widen and 
 narrow and rib. How about some suspenders, or a 
 blanket for your kitten ? " "A blanket for Glossy I Oh, 
 yes I I'll try that I " I said, and ran to find a ball of red 
 yarn and some needles. " Glossy is yellow, and how 
 beautiful a red blanklet will look on herl" Dear 
 Auntie! — how she laughed at my enthusiasm, and 
 helped and encouraged me, picking up dropped stitches 
 and knitting off the needle, which would become almost 
 immovably fixed by my tight, irregular work. By 
 repeated efforts I completed a square of six inches, 
 soiled and streaked with rust from the long-neglected 
 steel needles, but Glossy had grown to be a big cat, and 
 scorned her blanket. I loved to sit on the little green 
 stool at her feet and work, and to relieve the monotony 
 of knitting, she cut out of stout, fine linen, home-spun 
 and home-woven, a rag doll, basting and fitting the parts 
 
 [46] 
 
A Visit to Melville Manor 
 
 as carefully as she would have done a dress for the 
 queen, — else how could she teach me to be careful, she 
 said, and I stitched and turned and stuffed, with delighted 
 interest and much help, until Miss Thusa stood on her 
 feet with assistance, in a pair of blue knitted stockings, 
 cloth gaiters, a dark calico dress and a yellow calico sun- 
 bonnet, which well became her calm, white face. Aunt 
 Ann made sets of clothes for her and packed them in a 
 prune box with a glass top, under which was pasted a 
 bright picture. She had night-gowns and ruffled night- 
 caps which I had much trouble in tying under her 
 receding chin. Owing to her strong constitution and 
 firm, well-regulated character. Miss Thusa was able to 
 resist such vicissitudes as the cat, the dog, and the boy; 
 suffered alternations of neglect and attention, starva- 
 tion and overfeeding, exposure and close confinement, 
 endured life among us for many years, and contem- 
 plated, untouched, the rise and fall of many generations 
 of her kind. 
 
 Grandma made housewives, or " hussifs," as they 
 were called for short, — a strip of ribbon, silk, or other 
 material, eighteen inches long and four inches wide, 
 rounded at the top and square at the bottom, covered 
 with pockets, the lower one being quite full, so as to 
 hold a spool of thread, a thimble, a ball of darning 
 cotton, and a piece of wax; the others for papers of 
 needles, skeins of sewing silk, bunches of bobbin and 
 braid, and such odds and ends as collect and litter one's 
 work basket. The whole was finished with a narrow 
 binding, a few flannel leaves, neatly rounded and notched, 
 tacked across the bottom for needles and pins, and a 
 half-yard of narrow ribbon folded in the middle and 
 tacked to the top, to tie around it when it was rolled up. 
 Every known member of the family was supplied with a 
 hussif, and yet the supply seemed unequal to the demand. 
 
 [47] 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 Stories Grandma Told. 
 
 Ik S she sewed, Grandma became reminiscent and 
 A^ told us stories, often suggested by the materials 
 **" "^ she used, which were saved for years, some- 
 times, until they met their match. " Miriam," she said 
 to Grandmother one evening, "your description of the 
 overflow last spring put me in mind of the time your 
 father and I were lost in the high water, soon after we 
 came from Virginia — let me see — that was more than 
 sixty years ago." Instantly six eyes were fastened upon 
 her, for we were as eager for stories then as you are 
 now, and Grandmother laughed and said, "Now, 
 Mother, you are getting yourself into trouble." But 
 Grandma said, " Oh, my time is not very valuable now; 
 I can afford to give it to them the Httle while they are 
 with me." And, thus invited, we gathered around her. 
 " Yes, it was more than sixty years ago," she began, 
 " long before your Grandmother was born. It was a 
 very sickly season and your Great Grandfather was just 
 
 [49] 
 
Wheri I Was a Little Girl 
 
 recovering from a long, serious attack of fever, when 
 we heard that his brother's wife was at the point of 
 death, over in the swamp. The waters were up, every- 
 where, and it was a great undertaking to go even a few 
 miles, especially in his weak state, but my husband was 
 not to be dissuaded from his purpose, and go to Sister 
 Sarah he would, or die trying, he said. Of course, I 
 went with him, and we thought once that we would all 
 'die trying.' We had to go in the carriage from here 
 to the river, which was out of its banks and extended all 
 through the low country. We expected to cross the 
 water in two or three hours, and thinking the worst of 
 the trip was over when we had accomplished the drive 
 of eighteen miles, I made my husband comfortable with 
 a large shawl and pillows, arranging the seats in the 
 skiff, so he could lie down, and with a small bottle of 
 wine and few wafers to refresh him on the way, we 
 pulled out, expecting to dine at your Uncle's. 
 
 " It required many days to hear from them, in the 
 existing state of the country, and we were very anxious, 
 wondering if we would find Sister Sarah living. It 
 looked very strange, going in a boat all among the trees 
 and woods, but the guide laughed at my fears, saying 
 that he had been over to the hills on the other side, and 
 back, until he knew his way in the water as well as on 
 the dry road. ' But how can you? ' I asked. ' Water is 
 all alike.' ' You see, Mistis,' he said, ' I blazes my way; 
 I cuts chips out de trees.' ' I don't see any cuts,' I said, 
 doubtfully. ' No, ma'am, not yit, but you'll see my 
 blazes atter while, — I knows de way 'long here.' ' Don't 
 croak, Dorothy,' said my husband; 'I think this is 
 delightful, — so much pleasanter than jolting in the car- 
 riage; I feel better already; Dangerfield knows the way.' 
 Dangerfield! What an ominous name, I thought, but I 
 
 [50] 
 
Stories Grandma Told 
 
 cheered up, and looked about me, enjoying the novelty. 
 My husband slept for a long time, and the guide rowed 
 and said not a word. It grew dark and chill, and my 
 spirits fell. * Is night coming on? ' I said, when I could 
 stand it no longer. ' Oh, no, ma'am, hit's jes' dark in de 
 woods,' said Dangerfield. ' We'll git dar to'reckly. You 
 see dat openin' in de woods ahead?' But we went on, 
 and on, and no opening appeared; and, watching the 
 man's face, I could see that he was anxious and trying to 
 appear unconcerned. 
 
 "I called my husband, fearing he would take cold, 
 and gave him wine and wafers. I could see that he was 
 startled when he looked at his watch. ' Dangerfield, we 
 ought to be almost there,' he said ; ' where are we now ? ' 
 'God knows, Marster, for I don't,' said the negro, drop- 
 ping his oars. ' De water done riz 'bove my blazes an' 
 I dunno whar we is !' 
 
 " We had been hoping against hope, and all gave up 
 at once. It was growing very dark, and becoming entan- 
 gled in the growth, we came to a stop. Catching the 
 vines in his hands as he stood up in the boat, my husband 
 endeavored to help Dangerfield pull through where he 
 could not use the oars, and in doing so dislodged a snake, 
 which fell at my feet! It was the 'last straw,' and I 
 gave up all control of self and screamed and cried 
 aloud. I was very silly, and am ashamed of my behavior 
 to this day, but then and there your Grandfather showed 
 what he was. He took me in his arms and soothed me 
 as a mother would, calling me by every endearing name, 
 unjustly reproaching himself for bringing me into such 
 danger, and encouraging me to hope for deliverance. I 
 think my playing the baby did old Dangerfield good. 
 He took up his oars and pulled with a will, begging me 
 not to cry. ' We 'bleeged ter git jowe-whar,' he said. 
 
 [51] 
 
When I Was a Little Girl 
 
 But for three days and nights, children, we travelled 
 around in a circle, with nothing to eat and suffering 
 from the cold. 
 
 "As hope died within my heart, I became perfectly 
 calm, and taking our handkerchiefs from our pockets, I 
 tied them as conspicuously as possible around our necks, 
 in order that we might be identified by the names dis- 
 tinctly marked on each; and, feeling that there was 
 nothing more for me to do, I nestled close into my 
 husband's arms and prayed to be taken first, that I might 
 not see him suffer and die. 
 
 "As night approached, our dreadful situation became 
 appalling. Frogs croaked, owls hooted in the most 
 dismal way, and alligators came out on logs and flapped 
 their tails and opened their huge jaws almost in our 
 faces. Out of the darkness on all sides came the most 
 frightful cries of animals more or less vicious, we did 
 not know. I crouched in the bottom of the boat in 
 abject terror, and my husband ordered Dangerfield to 
 pull up on one of the ridges which we often encountered, 
 not more than four or five feet wide, and build a fire, 
 hoping to keep wild beasts at a distance. Being a great 
 smoker, he was supplied with matches, and splitting 
 pieces from one of the seats in our boat to kindle with, 
 we soon had an enormous fire of logs and branches. 
 The light brought fiery, glaring eyeballs into view from 
 all directions, adding horror to my fright, but Danger- 
 field said they always looked so when there was a light 
 in the woods at night. 
 
 " We kept up the fire until daylight, and when the 
 sun rose bright and clear, we saw a column of smoke, in 
 which we recognized our salvation. We all broke down 
 and cried aloud, falling on our knees together, and 
 thanking God. 
 
 [52] 
 
Stories Grandma Told 
 
 " With weak arms, but strengthened hearts, we made 
 our way towards that smoke, even / trying to help pull 
 with my hands against trees and vines. My husband 
 was well-nigh exhausted when we came in sight of a 
 house, which proved to be the home of one of your 
 Uncle's neighbors, and we barely succeeded in letting it 
 be known that we were in distress, before we all col- 
 lapsed and had to be carried into the house, where we 
 met with untold kindness and attention; in fact, we 
 would have been killed with kindness in the shape of too 
 much food, but for the interference of a young doctor, 
 providentially detained in the house, who carefully and 
 skillfully directed the proper treatment and brought us 
 back to life by degrees. We learned of Sister Sarah's 
 recovery, and our brother came to us immediately and 
 took us to his home as soon as we were able to be 
 moved." 
 
 " I think that is finer than any story book I ever 
 read," said Donald, "but Grandmother says you know 
 about real Indians — fighting Indians, I mean; I think 
 she said you had seen them, and — Oh, Grandma, won't 
 you tell us about them?" And Donald looked fear- 
 fully at the door as it slowly opened, but It was only 
 peace-loving Uncle Johnnie, and Aunt America said 
 supper was getting cold, but Grandma promised that 
 she would think of something for the boys before the 
 rvtxt evening. 
 
 " Nancy," she said, when the time came, " do try to 
 think of something for me to tell the children." Dear 
 Aunt Ann was always interested in anything to give us 
 pleasure, and declared that she knew of nothing which 
 we would 6njoy so much as an account of Grandma's 
 journey out to this country from Virginia, many years 
 
 [53] 
 
When I Was a Little Girl 
 
 ago. *' That story has Indians in it," she whispered to 
 the boys. 
 
 " Well, children," said Grandma, " your Aunties and 
 your Grandmother have heard about my home-coming 
 until they are tired of it, so you come here to me, and 
 let them all sit over on that side of the fire and talk to 
 the gentlemen." Gladly we pressed close to her side, 
 and in a low, confidential voice, intended only for our 
 ears, she began : 
 
 "We came here to Melville Manor soon after we 
 were married, and that was when I was fifteen, — sixty- 
 five years ago. My husband wanted to leave me in old 
 Virginia with his mother, while he came and built me a 
 house, and got started making a living, but I would not 
 be left. Some of our negroes were here, had made a 
 beginning towards cultivating the place, and built some 
 log cabins, and I said if the cabin would shelter him, it 
 would shelter me. ' But, Dorothy,' he said, ' I have to 
 go through the Indian Nation on horseback, and some- 
 times may have to fly for my life.' ' Well, your life is 
 my life,' I said. ' I won't stay.' ' But the baby — how 
 can he stand it? ' 'If the Indians get his father, he had 
 better go, too,' I persisted, with a hardihood which I 
 came near repenting on one occasion, which I shall tell 
 you about, if not many others. 
 
 " I did come with my husband, riding much of the 
 way behind him on a pillion, with my baby in my lap, he 
 parting the cane with his hands to make a way for us. 
 Sometimes I went inside one of the three covered wagons 
 we had along with us, carrying our effects and some of 
 the servants; others rode on mules. We boasted quite a 
 cavalcade, and were not attacked by Indians on the way, 
 but we had trouble with them quite often while I lived 
 in my little cabin, which is Aunt Phillis' house now, and 
 
 [54] 
 
Stories Grandma Told 
 
 which I love as my first real, own home. They were 
 very troublesome, killing hogs and sheep and chickens, 
 and stealing everything that was left out of the house; 
 and once they came when I was alone in the cabin with 
 the baby, and Phillis washing in the yard. There were 
 three of them, and I could tell that they were drunk, 
 which sent terror to my soul. There was no time for 
 me to leave the house, so I called Phillis from the little 
 high window in the back, and she flew for dear life to 
 the field for the men. But it was some distance, and, 
 taking my baby in my arms, I undertook to argue with 
 them and hold them off until the men could reach me. 
 
 " They were frightful to behold, in their paint and 
 feathers, and furious in their demands for whiskey. I 
 had a barrel full, hidden under bedding and clothing in 
 the room, but dared not give it up, knowing the mad- 
 dening effect It would have. The Indians could not talk 
 distinctly, but I managed to understand that they threat- 
 ened to kill me and dash my baby's brains out against a 
 tree If I would not give them ' fire-water.' They were 
 easily frightened and made off when they found that 
 help was at hand, and gradually ceased their troublesome 
 depredations." 
 
 "Did they hurt the baby?" I asked, breathlessly, 
 "Oh, dear, no; they came so close that he tried to pull 
 the bright-colored feathers out of their heads, but he 
 came through the experience safely, and there he sits 
 laughing at you now." "Uncle Howard? Oh, Uncle 
 Howard! Was he the baby?" we all cried, running to 
 him to touch him and make sure that he was alive after 
 having passed through such a scene. " Grandma," said 
 Reggie, "why didn't you shoot the Indians when they 
 came to your house? I wish / had been there. I would 
 have killed them all three; that Is the finest story I ever 
 
 [55] 
 
When I Was a Little Girl 
 
 heard in my life 1 What a journey that was for a lady 
 to takel" "Yes, children," said Grandma, "it was a 
 memorable journey, but when my sister and her hus- 
 band went to housekeeping, they went twelve hundred 
 miles up the river in a keel boat. 
 
 "We were six sisters," continued Grandma, "and 
 four of us married our cousins, three of whom were 
 Halrstons. Our father was Peter Halrston and our 
 mother, Miriam Tate. We had eight brothers. When 
 Miriam, our youngest sister, married Nicholas Halr- 
 ston, they planned to go at once to his home In Crawford 
 County, Arkansas, but after spending ten days with our 
 mother, which she Insisted upon, the river was found to 
 be too low for steamboats, and no hope of a rise for 
 months. Nicholas was anxious to get to his plantation, 
 so he asked Miriam if she would take the trip with him 
 in a keel boat. It was a distance of twelve hundred 
 miles by water from our nearest river town, and he 
 represented to her that it would be a long, tiresome 
 journey, and subject to many discomforts; but the idea 
 possessed the charm of novelty to her, and she eagerly 
 consented, so he bought a nice, new keel boat, had a 
 cabin fitted up In the stern for their private use, and 
 furnished with a berth, table, chairs, their little hair- 
 covered, brass-nailed trunks, and a shining new stove. 
 Father and Mother loaded the boat with everything In 
 the way of household goods they could possibly carry, a 
 cook and other servants, furniture, provisions, and 
 every luxury the city afforded, for their long trip. They 
 employed an experienced guide, but the boat was manned 
 by their own slaves, there being enough to relieve each 
 other at the oars, so that the work would not be too 
 hard. And so, with many tears, we bade them farewell, 
 feeling that they were going to another world, but their 
 
 [56] 
 
Stories Grandma Told 
 
 hearts were full of love and hope as they launched out 
 upon a new era In their lives. The oarsmen rowed 
 slowly up the river, waking weird echoes from the vast 
 forests on either side, as they sang with musical but 
 most uncanny intonation, — 'Row, boatmen, row; row, 
 boatmen, row 1 Rain or snow, hail or blow, here we go, 
 a-sailln' up de river of de O-hi-o I ' keeping time with 
 the dripping oars as they dipped into the water, pro- 
 pelled the boat, and fell heavily into the oarlocks. 
 
 " They tied up in the evening for the negroes to 
 camp, catch fish, and do their cooking, as the boat was 
 not large enough to accommodate so many. They met 
 with no adventures more serious than getting stuck on 
 logs, or slipping head-foremost into the water, to rise 
 again with the utmost unconcern. My sister kept a 
 diary, which she sent home for us all to read. They 
 reached Cairo just in time to see the steamer United 
 States leaving. 
 
 " Miriam had never seen a steamboat, and was 
 delighted with her grand, majestic movements, but she 
 ran upon a bar before they were out of sight, and they 
 left her ignominiously stuck in the mud. They had a 
 skiff attached to the stern, in which they would occa- 
 sionally take a row all by themselves, run far ahead of 
 the boat, and get out on a planter — a large log in the 
 ■^y^ater — and wait to be taken on again. The water was 
 so low that the men had to use poles sometimes to push 
 across a sand-bar, and once they had to resort to cor- 
 delling, — that is, the men formed a line on the sand 
 beach with a cable running over their shoulders, and 
 attached to the bow, and pulled the boat through the 
 shallows. Sometimes they were mistaken for traders, 
 as they landed at the settlements, and people would flock 
 to the boat to make purchases. 
 
 [57] 
 
When I Was a Little Girl 
 
 " One day was the same as another on board the 
 keel boat, and a httle thing happened to Miriam which 
 Nicholas teased her about as long as he lived, but being 
 of a very conscientious turn of mind, she made a serious 
 matter of it and never got over it. She undertook to 
 make a pair of trousers for one of the men who was 
 much in need, and when she put in the last stitch, late 
 one evening, she found she had been sewing all day 
 Sunday ! She wept bitterly, refusing to be comforted. 
 ' Yes, I know I forgot' she said, ' but, oh, Nicholas ! the 
 commandment says, "Remember the Sabbath Day to 
 keep it holy." ' 
 
 "When they reached Kedron, a little settlement at 
 the mouth of Kedron Creek, they ran aground, and 
 could get no farther, being still a hundred miles from 
 home. They remained on their boat, with two or three 
 servants, and sent the men home on foot through the 
 Cherokee Nation to bring horses and saddles for them 
 to continue their journey. There were no roads, but 
 Indian trails, only as wide as a spade, where they rode 
 Indian file, one after the other, through the Nation, 
 spending the nights at missions, or wherever they could 
 find shelter. They encountered Indians many times 
 during their whole trip, and while riding through the 
 Nation. Twenty thousand Indians passed by in a body 
 on their way to their acquired territory, which was 
 moved up the country just at that time. It was an impos- 
 ing sight, and frightful, too, but they were not interfered 
 with, and reached home safely just before Christmas, 
 having journeyed for ten weeks. There was a rise in 
 the river the next month, and they were able to send for 
 their boat, which they left at Kedron, and bring home 
 all their possessions. They lived in that country for 
 three years, making many friends, and enjoying the 
 
 [58] 
 
Stories Grandma Told 
 
 novelty, but at the end of that time they came back to 
 the old home, where they lived and died. I have some- 
 thing which belonged to my sister, and to our mother 
 before her, which I intend to give your Grandmother 
 for you, Miriam, since it is marked in your name, and I 
 may as well get it now." And Grandma searched for 
 keys in her enormous pockets. She wore one on each 
 side under her skirt, which had openings to admit her 
 hands, and many were the lumps of sugar, tea cakes and 
 other goodies we have had from those inexhaustible 
 depths, to ease a bumped head or a cut finger. 
 
 " Oh, Grandma," I said, " are you going to open 
 the corner press? And may we see in it? " " Yes, come 
 with me," she said, and as we left the room we heard 
 Grandmother say, " Sister Ann, do you remember that 
 there was ever a time when Mother would have let*M5 
 into her corner press ? " They laughed, and we followed 
 Grandma into her own room, and watched with the 
 keenest interest while she carefully unlocked and opened 
 the doors of a mahogany cabinet, disclosing a set of 
 brass-handled drawers, one of which she opened, and 
 took out a box. " Now, we will go back to the sitting- 
 room," she said. "Yes; but, oh. Grandma, what is 
 that? And that? And that?" cried we all in a breath. 
 And so, she showed us her treasures, — miniatures In 
 gold settings, old letters and papers, paintings and 
 embroideries, pieces of old jewelry, so curious now; a 
 silver knitting sheath in the form of a fish, to fasten to 
 the side like a breastpin; a silver sheath to fit the finger 
 like a ring, broad on top, with finest ridges to catch the 
 thread as it was drawn out in sewing, and prevent cut- 
 ting into the delicate flesh; a silver butterfly on a stem 
 which screwed to the table, and being pressed in the rear 
 would open its mouth, to close firmly when released 
 
 [59] 
 
When I Was a Little Girl 
 
 upon the work, holding it smoothly while a long seam 
 was stitched up, or a ruffle hemmed. Silver birds were 
 made and used in the same way. Sewing machines were 
 unknown in those days. A daintily embroidered infant's 
 robe of finest cambric, which her baby, Miriam, my 
 Grandmother, had worn when Grandfather took them 
 to the city to meet Lafayette, and the great General 
 had taken her in his arms and kissed her. Also the 
 dress which Grandma herself had worn upon the mem- 
 orable occasion, — of figured lavender silk, with very 
 narrow skirt, very short waist, and very tight sleeves 
 with enormous puffs at the shoulders, which had been 
 filled with feathers to make them stand out. 
 
 With difficulty we managed to contain our curiosity, 
 as Grandma slowly unrolled what seemed to be yards 
 and yards of tissue paper, finally bringing to light a 
 piece of her mother's wedding dress of white satin, and 
 also a piece of purple satin left of the second day's 
 dress; both came from Paris, cost a hogshead of tobacco 
 a yard, and were so thick and stiff they would stand 
 alone. In the purple satin, she appeared at her infair, a 
 grand dining given her by Madam Washington at Mount 
 Vernon, which was so near her home that the families 
 frequently walked to visit each other, being intimate 
 friends for many years. 
 
 " Here is what I intend for you, Miriam," she said, 
 " and I might as well give it to you now." " Now, 
 Grandma," said both the boys, "you give everything to 
 Miriam just because she's named Miriam. Give us 
 something." " Well, I will," she said, " but you boys do 
 not care for a pincushion and scissors, do you?" And 
 she pulled out a silver hook, arranged to fasten securely 
 in the belt, with two silver chains, about a foot long, 
 
 [60] 
 
Stories Grandma Told 
 
 attached to It. One was divided near the end and 
 fastened to a pair of scissors, and the other held a silver 
 band about as large as a bracelet, in which was tightly 
 fitted a round ball pincushion, faded and moth-eaten, 
 but which, she said, had been covered many times. On 
 the hook were engraved the initials ' M. T. H.' 
 
 " Now, children, listen to me," said Grandma. " I 
 have a story to tell you about this chain. Young men in 
 old times were as venturesome and hard-headed as they 
 are now, if not worse, and my father was a young man 
 once. He belonged to a set, called the ' Swell Heads,' 
 and I think he must have been the captain and leader, as 
 he was always noted for daring deeds. But he had some 
 experiences which sobered him to some extent, and one 
 of these experiences Is connected with this chain. He 
 presented it to his wife soon after their marriage, and 
 she wore it constantly, after the fashion of the day. He 
 took her to drive behind the fastest horse he could find, 
 and coming to a bridge, she begged to get out and walk 
 over. 'Why?' he asked. 'Because I am afraid,' she 
 answered. He straightened himself up in the most self- 
 important, offended way — I have often heard him 
 describe it — and asked her If she was afraid to trust 
 herself with him I ' No,' she said ; ' If you are willing to 
 kill me, I want to die I ' Assuring her that there was no 
 danger, he proceeded to dash over the bridge. The 
 wheel struck the low railing, which gave way. My 
 mother was thrown out and hung over the deep water, 
 securely held to the bridge by these little scissors attached 
 to her belt, until her remorse-stricken lord could stop 
 the frightened horse and fly back to her rescue. 
 
 "And, now, here Is an ivory snuff-box for Reggie, 
 and a watch chain for Donald, both of which belonged 
 
 [61] 
 
When I Was a Little Girl 
 
 to my Grandfather." " Oh, Grandma ! They are fine ! 
 Thank you, ma'am," said the boys. "We will keep 
 them as long as we live, but the stories are the finest of 
 all — that one was almost as good as an Indian story." 
 
 " Come," said Grandma, "that is all." And together 
 we went to show our treasures to Grandmother. She 
 was so pleased that Grandma had given her the chain 
 pincushion for me — she said she had wished for it ever 
 since she could remember. 
 
 An old yellow paper dropped out of the box, and, 
 opening it. Aunt Ann said: "Oh, Mother, here are 
 those ridiculous verses James Hogan wrote and pub- 
 lished in his paper when old Uncle Peter and Aunt 
 Rachel were married! " " I thought I had lost them," 
 said Grandma; "do read them to the children, and I 
 will tell them about the wedding, ashamed as I am of 
 my ancestor's folly." 
 
 Aunt Ann read aloud : 
 
 "Never Despair 
 
 "Listen, ye single gentlemen, 
 And ladies gay and fair, 
 Push on in courtship's pleasant road, 
 And see you don't despair. 
 
 "Tho' Cupid still should play coquette, 
 And lead )^ou here and there, 
 The case we publish just below 
 Says plainly — Don't Despair. 
 
 "So, go ahead — 'Tis good advice, 
 We have kind wishes plenty 
 For the friends who marry at eighty-one 
 As well as those at twenty." 
 
 [62] 
 
Stories Grandma Told 
 "Married 
 
 "On Tuesday, the 13th instant, Mr. Peter Hairston, of 
 
 County, aged eighty-one years, to Mrs. Rachel Tate Gray, 
 aged eighty years and six months. The parties were school- 
 mates sixty-four years ago, were lovers at twenty, and at 
 eighty-one were married." 
 
 " Yes, children," said Grandma, " it is actually true. 
 My father's uncle, Peter Hairston, and my mother's 
 aunt, Rachel Tate, were lovers when they were school 
 children; he went to the war, was taken prisoner and 
 held for four years. She, thinking he was dead, mar- 
 ried a Mr. Gray, who died after living with her sixty 
 years and having a large family. Uncle Peter was 
 devoted to his Colonel, nursed him through his last 
 illness, and accepted the gift of his beautiful daughter, 
 proffered on his death-bed. He made her a good hus- 
 band, but in less than a year after she died he came back 
 to his old Rachel, and they were married, as the paper 
 stated. They went to his home after the marriage, and 
 as they entered the room, the old clock, which had not 
 run for years, struck one — waited an hour, and struck 
 two, and never could be made to run again. The old 
 couple seemed quite happy for one year, and then she 
 pined for her children and they started to visit her 
 daughter, but Uncle Peter was taken so ill on the way 
 that he could not travel, and told her that she must go 
 on without him, if she must go, and, to her shame be it 
 told, she left him and went on to her daughter. She was 
 taken sick and died in a few days, but he recovered and 
 lived one year, when he also died, two years after the 
 marriage, just as the old clock seemed to prophesy, 
 though, of course, that had nothing to do with it. That's 
 all," said Grandma, " and I hope that none of my 
 
 [63] 
 
When I Was a Little Girl 
 
 descendants will ever follow the example of these two 
 old people, who, I think, must have been in their dotage." 
 And now our visit to Melville Manor was drawing 
 to a close. Grandfather must see to his business ; Grand- 
 mother was needed at home, to say nothing of Mammy, 
 and we children had had holiday enough. Uncle Rock 
 said " hog-killin' time was comin'" — he must see that 
 the hogs were properly prepared, and we must all get 
 ready for Christmas, which was now only a month off. 
 So a day was set for our departure, and Uncle Rock 
 came up before it was light to make the fire. " How is 
 the weather. Rock? " asked Grandfather, sleepily. " Do 
 you think we can get off ? " " Well, Marster, de weather 
 ain't none o' de bes', but hit's bettern it's gwine ter be. 
 I think ef we don't go terday, we'll wisht we had," and 
 so we said a mournful good-bye, the big cheese-box was 
 packed by Aunt America's care, and we drove off in a 
 dismal drizzle. The sun came out by fits and starts, but 
 we had some rain, and It was cold. Uncle Rock but- 
 toned on his leather front, with its funny little window 
 and holes for the reins to come through. We closed our 
 windows, and I put on Miss Thusa's sack and hugged 
 her close, as I cuddled up to Mammy, with a delightful 
 feeling of security, as I watched the raindrops patter on 
 the glass, and Grandmother congratulated herself that 
 we were getting over these roads before they became 
 heavy. The novelty soon wore off, and I was glad 
 enough to see the sun about twelve o'clock. 
 
 The Grapevine Spring was not as attractive as it 
 was a month before, and being low and damp, we did 
 not drive down to it, but Uncle Rock managed to make 
 a little fire by the roadside to boil coffee, and we ate 
 lunch crowded up in the carriage. We got along slowly 
 after lunch, and were all delighted to see the lights of 
 
 [64] 
 
Stories Grandma Told 
 
 La Vega in the distance. It was dusk when we passed, 
 and we could not make out some dark objects, which 
 Uncle Rock said were the shanties of the levee hands, 
 who were camped there — the lowest class of white men. 
 
 "Missy," said Mammy, "kin you see de trunk out 
 er dat back winder? I ain't got no confidence in dese 
 yer po' white folks — we nigh in Hollytree Gap." 
 
 " Oh, Mammy, what do you mean? " I said, feeling 
 scared. "Oh, nothin', honey — nothin', only I jes' 
 thought 'bout de trunk out berhine. What's dat?" And 
 I looked just in time to see a tattered hat and a red flan- 
 nel sleeve through the glass, when I dropped, speechless, 
 in my seat. But Grandmother was not speechless — no, 
 indeed 1 Tapping sharply on the window, she opened it 
 quickly, just as the trunk disappeared. " What do you 
 mean, sir?" she called. "Stop, Uncle Rock I" And 
 Uncle Rock jumped down, took up the small trunk, 
 which the fellow had dropped in his flight, and putting 
 it up in front by him, we hurried on, overtaking the 
 buggy just before we came in sight of home. Now we 
 could see lanterns bobbing about, and knew they had 
 caught sight of our carriage lamps. The great gate 
 flew open before we reached it, and shouts of " Dere 
 dey come I Howdy, Marster I Howdy, Mistis I " were 
 cordially answered. The tired horses plucked up cour- 
 age in happy anticipation of their comfortable accom- 
 modations, and rolled us rapidly to the house. Light 
 streamed from wide doors and windows, and when the 
 carriage door was opened and the folding steps let 
 down, a seat of interlaced arms appeared, and with an 
 arm around the neck of each of her big boys. Grand- 
 mother was carried safely up the wet steps and into the 
 hall, where I was quickly placed beside her. As I passed 
 through the hall and into the rooms, great vases and 
 
 [65] 
 
When I Was a Little Girl 
 
 jars and banks of chrysanthemums appeared in every 
 nook and corner, greeting me with their brightness and 
 beauty, and the fresh, penetrating, delightful perfume, 
 the memory of which, lingering in my mind, ever singles 
 out this one night, and brings vividly back to me my 
 happy home-coming. 
 
 We found ourselves in the midst of an uproarious 
 welcome, from Aunt Eunice and the girls, and Miss 
 Hale, the boys, the babies, and the black friends. The 
 boys took possession of their mother, and the girls hov- 
 ered around their father. 
 
 " Hi, Marster, you is wet ! " said Torm, as he seized 
 Grandfather's overcoat to remove it. "Oh, no; just a 
 little damp," he answered. But Grandmother had not 
 failed to take the alarm, and was feeling his knees and 
 shoulders. Dorothy went to make a toddy, and Torm 
 knelt to tug at his heavy boots. " Old boy, Fm glad to 
 see you," said Grandfather, patting the woolly head. 
 " Oh, these slippers feel good ! What is so comfortable 
 as an old shoe? Miriam, isn't it grand to be home 
 again?" And he sipped his toddy with Hardie on his 
 foot. 
 
 "What is that about your trunk?" he said, indig- 
 nantly, as he heard the children talking excitedly. " Why, 
 my brave woman, I am afraid you were imprudent. 
 The fellow might have been impertinent, I should never 
 have left you so far behind, but I drove on without a 
 thought of danger in our quiet old neighborhood. It is 
 exasperating, but there is nothing to be done with that 
 class of people. They are a necessary evil — the levee 
 work must be done, and we are not willing to expose the 
 health of our people to such a risk." 
 
 Nervy unfastened my cloak and hood and admired 
 Miss Thusa, saying, " Come on. Missy, me an' Rachel 
 
 [66] 
 
Stories Grandma Told 
 
 got somethin' fer yer," and I went into the dining-room, 
 closely followed by Cely and Nancy, who stuck to me 
 until I said, "Bring in Miss Thusa's trunk (the prune 
 box), get out her night-gown and cap, undress her and 
 put her to bed." And so I left her with her delighted 
 nurses, while I examined and went into ecstacies over 
 three dear little baby rabbits, which pined and died 
 after delighting my heart for a few days, in spite of 
 constant attention and plenty of cabbage leaves. 
 
 " Oh, Nervy," I cried, all at once, " did you find my 
 lunch? " " Law, yes, honey," she answered, sympathet- 
 ically, " an' I tried ter save it fer ye, but Miss Eunice 
 say how it would spile yer carpit-bag, an' fer us ter eat it 
 up, an' make you some mo', and we an' de chillun had a 
 party, an' it was mighty good, an' me an' Rachel gwine 
 ter pull you some mo' candy termorrer ! " 
 
 The smallest detail of that evening is Indelibly 
 impressed upon my mind. " Torm," said Rachel, " dere's 
 Aunt Nacky's bell." " Well, come on, help me bring in 
 supper," said Torm. " I got a heap ter bring in ter- 
 night." Going to the kitchen with them, I heard Torm 
 say, "Unc' Rock, Mistis wants you — she say come ter 
 de dinin'-room." And there she stood, stirring his 
 dram with her own hands, and cautioning him against 
 keeping his feet wet and taking cold. 
 
 [67] 
 

 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Christmas. 
 
 THE threatening weather continued for several 
 days, and hog-killing time was at hand. Chng- 
 ing to Grandfather with one hand, and holding 
 my nose with the other, I inspected the bad-smelling 
 pens, and cast my eye up at the clouds to note whether 
 in my judgment the process of fattening and the indica- 
 tions of the all-important freeze would culminate at the 
 proper point to secure sausages and spare-ribs for 
 Christmas. The freeze always came, and the hog-pen 
 held such fascination that I could not stay away, but 
 would watch the men until they approached an unsus- 
 pecting victim with gleaming knife, when, flying to the 
 house with fingers in my ears, I awaited the shout with 
 which the boys recalled me, just in time for the horrid 
 deed, the sight of which I wished to avoid. 
 
 Late in the evening, the scalding and scraping and 
 cleaning being completed, the animals were suspended 
 in long rows, heads downwards, on poles which were 
 
 [69] 
 
When I Was a Little Girl 
 
 supported by forks placed in the ground, and with gory 
 throats and sunken eyes, silent and reproachful, they 
 slowly stiffened in the cold night air, their white bodies 
 gleaming, ghostlike, in the light of the great fires around 
 which the negroes were gathered, all untouched by the 
 pathetic sight, playing games, singing songs and dancing 
 to the music of two fiddles, the performers perched high 
 on the woodpile, as they wielded their bows, shouted 
 their orders, or roared with laughter at the frequent 
 downfalls of the dusky lads and lasses who rashly bet 
 that " Us kin dance as fas' as you kin play I " The pene- 
 trating light of the blazing fires revealed the white 
 dresses and bright kerchiefs of the women, and the eager 
 faces and rapid movements of the men, as they piled 
 high the fires, and kept faithful watch against dogs, or 
 possible wild beasts. 
 
 Aunt Silvia, with dark-red shawl drawn over her 
 head, keeping time to the music with foot and voice, as 
 she stirred the giblet stew with a wooden paddle, or 
 renewed the embers on the ash-cake for their midnight 
 feast, very aptly represented the Gipsy and her Kettle, 
 which alone were wanting to complete the weird, fan- 
 tastic scene. 
 
 One morning at breakfast, after we had been at 
 home only a few days. Grandfather said, " Miriam, I 
 believe I will go to the city before Christmas this year, 
 if you will go with me." *' Oh, dear," she said, " I have 
 just been away for so long ! " " Well, so have I, and I 
 don't feel like going again by myself — come, go with 
 me," said he. " The boat Is due tonight at six, and I 
 have a good deal of cotton to ship. Can you be ready? 
 If we wait for the next boat we will not have time. I 
 want to do big things for Christmas this year," with a 
 knowing look up and down the long table, which set us 
 
 [70] 
 
Christmas 
 
 all to wriggling. "Very well," said Grandmother, "I 
 will get ready," and immediately all hands set to work 
 to help. A great many orders must be given to Uncle 
 Rock, Mammy, Torm and the others, and Aunt Eunice 
 and the girls, with Jane to help, packed the trunk. 
 None of us were to go this time, so we contented our- 
 selves with seeing them off. 
 
 The hoarse whistle called us to the landing, and we 
 all stood on the levee as the great steamer slowly and 
 majestically approached, with tinkling bells and roaring 
 steam; the long stage swung into position, and as if by 
 magic, the face of the earth was alive with men, the 
 merry laughter of our own black-faced, white-clad people 
 mingling curiously with the rough voice of the mate, 
 and the indescribably intoned boat-song of the red- 
 visaged, red-shirted deckhands, as they transferred the 
 huge pile of cotton bales from the river bank to the 
 lower deck, handling them laboriously with strong iron 
 hooks, all unassisted by the negroes, as, with hands in 
 their pockets, they coolly and critically watched loading 
 operations. 
 
 Such a scene occurring at night, was weird, and 
 exciting beyond description. Great torches made of 
 pine or *' llght'ood " knots, and enclosed in wire baskets, 
 were elevated so as to illumine the yellow waves, the 
 autumn-tinted forest across the river, and the sky Itself, 
 bringing Into relief the two vast columns of dense black 
 smoke, as they poured from the tall chimneys and min- 
 gled with the clouds on high, heaving and rolling with 
 ceaseless motion, as If struggling to repress the furious- 
 looking dark-red flames which occasionally shot forth 
 from their enormous depths. 
 
 The great bell clanged loudly Its signal for leaving. 
 "All aboard! " shouted the mate. "All aboard 1 " ech- 
 
 [71] 
 
When I Was a Little Girl 
 
 oed voices far and near, and with a loving farewell for 
 each one, Grandfather and Grandmother released 
 themselves from our clinging arms, and hurried on 
 board, reiterating promises as far as they could be 
 heard, of what they were going to bring us from the city 
 if we would be good children. Eagerly we watched them 
 as they made their way through the crowd. Grandfather 
 conspicuous in his great height, and when they appeared 
 on deck, hats and sunbonnets fluttered frantically in 
 answer to their waving handkerchiefs, until Mammy 
 called, "Come in, chlllun, out de wind — hit's bad luck 
 to watch anybody out er sight," and we went In to sup- 
 per, feeling that the sun had gone down figuratively, as 
 it had literally. 
 
 We studied hard to make up for our long holiday, 
 and soon began to look forward to their home-coming, 
 which we expected In two weeks. In just one week the 
 boat was due again on its down trip, but, as often hap- 
 pened, it was delayed many hours, and It was nearly 
 daylight when we were startled by the loud, continued 
 ringing of the great bell, which was a signal that there 
 were passengers for our landing. " Hit's Marster and 
 Mistis comin' home," said Jane. " Hi I " said Torm. 
 "Ain't you got no sense? Don't ye know Marster an' 
 Mistis ain't comin' down de river? " And he ran to the 
 landing with a score of others to bring trunks and bags, 
 while we all dressed in the greatest excitement, and 
 none too soon, to meet our big boys, Malcolm and 
 Howard, whose holiday came earlier than they expected 
 on account of Illness In their school, so they could spend 
 two weeks with us. 
 
 Grandfather and Grandmother came in a few days, 
 much troubled to have missed even a small part of the 
 boys' visit. Torm said it took the force of the planta- 
 
 [72] 
 
Christmas 
 
 tion to "tote" Marster's freight from the boat, and it 
 did look as if they would never get through with the 
 trunks, boxes, bales and barrels — one big barrel espe- 
 cially suggesting egg-nog — which were stowed mysteri- 
 ously away, and being opened when the great time came, 
 produced good cheer for every living soul on the place. 
 There were new dresses and suits, coats and wraps, hats, 
 and handkerchiefs, and gloves, and many other things 
 for black and white. Reggie was considered old enough 
 at last to possess a shotgun, which he received with 
 sparkling eyes, and a great show of big boy indifference. 
 Donald's delight over the " Rollo books " was pure and 
 unaffected. A complete dinner set was mine, and a 
 daintily decorated tea set, with cups and saucers so large 
 that I offered to lend them to Grandmother sometimes, 
 and was proud and happy when she accepted and used 
 them with her own for after-dinner coffee, when there 
 was much company. I also received a sure-enough 
 doll's trunk, with a tray and a lock and key; a large, 
 beautiful wax doll with golden curls, and blue eyes, 
 which would open and shut. I dressed her in a pink 
 silk dress which had once been my own, and seated her 
 in my little rocking chair in the parlor. I called her 
 "LouHe" for Uncle Melville's wife, who, being the 
 only bride I had ever seen, was placed on a pedestal and 
 worshipped from afar, since the day he brought her to 
 Penultima. I played with Loulie whenever I wished, 
 and showed her off to my friends with pride, but she 
 never took Miss Thusa's place in my heart of hearts. 
 The boys' big trunks were running over with bales 
 and bags of chewing and smoking tobacco, so plentiful 
 where they came from; pipes by the gross, calico by the 
 bolt, bandanas by the dozens, and big boxes of stick 
 candy, all of which set the quarters in an uproar. They 
 
 [73] 
 
When I Was a Little Girl 
 
 also brought us the most magnificent fireworks we had 
 ever seen — Roman candles, pin-wheels, whirhgigs, and 
 other wonders, which, with our usual generous supply 
 of little firecrackers, kept the plantation alive all the 
 week. On their way home the boys had spent a few 
 
 days in the City of N , near their school, and among 
 
 other sights had visited the penitentiary, and brought 
 home specimens of wood-work which the convicts were 
 allowed to do in their own time and sell for their own 
 benefit. Toy buckets, tubs, pails and piggins made of 
 staves of red and white cedar, carefully dovetailed 
 together, and bound with brass. I remember a dipper, 
 which was simply a miniature tub, with a handle placed 
 at the proper angle, and a churn made in the same way 
 and holding about a quart, was the joy of my heart for 
 many a day. With a big apron tied on, I splashed and 
 spattered and wasted cream, and was astonished and 
 delighted when the butter really did come in answer to 
 Nervy's song, "Come, butter, come; de King an' de 
 Queen is er standin' at de gate, er waitin' fer some 
 butter an' a cake — Oh, come, butter, come!" Torm 
 made me a little butter paddle, with which I worked and 
 messed with the tiny pat, rounded it off with the greatest 
 care in a cup plate, printed it in lines forming diamonds, 
 under Nervy's instructions, and put it at Grandfather's 
 place at the table. He sliced it off and put it into his hot 
 roll, making no sign except a slight twinkle in the corner 
 of his eye, until I squealed and brought down upon 
 myself the much-dreaded laugh. 
 
 The proper celebration of Christmas was a part of 
 Grandfather's religion, and by his special wish, and 
 Grandmother's hearty and efficient aid, not a living 
 creature was forgotten or neglected. All manner of 
 labor was suspended for the entire week, except what 
 
 [74] 
 
Christmas 
 
 was absolutely necessary for our comfort, and the grand 
 celebration of the day, or number of days, and grave 
 indeed was the offense of child or servant which would 
 merit a rebuke. For weeks beforehand preparations 
 were in progress in order that the holiday might be 
 given over to rest and enjoyment for man and beast. 
 Load after load of wood was hauled and piled moun- 
 tain high in the back yard, extra help was called in, and 
 axes and shouts resounded until Grandfather's eyes 
 twinkled in satisfaction at the enormous back-logs and 
 logs of all sizes which promised luxurious warmth for 
 all throughout the season. 
 
 The house was put in order, with perhaps a new 
 carpet or rug or curtains; Mistress and maid rejoiced 
 in new dress, apron and kerchief, in order that a seemly 
 air of brightness should prevail. The outcome of the 
 hog-killing fulfilled our expectations, and turkeys and 
 chickens enjoyed their meals in merciful ignorance of 
 the reason of their extra richness. 
 
 Mammy carefully watched the circle of young hands 
 as they stoned raisins, washed currants, chopped citron, 
 picked nuts and pounded spices, for fear her cake would 
 be short of seasoning, and a long row of loaves appeared, 
 whose thick white coat left the future to decide whether 
 they were fruit, pound or sponge — fancy cakes were 
 not thought much of then. There were tin boxes filled 
 with crisp, delicate tea cakes for the little ones, and tall 
 stone jars, whose close covers failed to keep In the 
 delicious odor of mincemeat, which promised pies for 
 weeks to come. Quantities of eggs, saved from our 
 superabundance, were packed in salt or meal for Christ- 
 mas egg-nog, and with fruits, nuts and wines from the 
 city. Grandmother's great storeroom was full to over- 
 flowing. Cooks and house servants were relieved as 
 
 [75] 
 
When I Was a Little Girl 
 
 much as possible by women from the quarter, who were 
 pleased to be called to "de great house," and the "many 
 hands made light work." 
 
 Christmas seasons appear like shining lights along 
 the line of my past, impressed upon my mind from 
 earliest childhood, by the state of excitement, joy and 
 complete abandon which possessed my home. They 
 were celebrated in much the same manner year after 
 year, but passing over a few years of my life at this 
 time, I seem to recall one occasion with more than ordi- 
 nary pleasure, the neighborhood being gay with young 
 guests, or perhaps the charm existed in the fact that I 
 was at an age when simply to live is joy. 
 
 This particular occasion was brought vividly to my 
 mind this morning as I observed evidences of decorating 
 the church for Christmas, when I went to early com- 
 munion. As I passed slowly up the broad, gray stone 
 steps, cold and wet with the dew of early morning, the 
 great doors swung silently open at my approach, and I 
 stood for a moment gazing in admiration of the spec- 
 tacle revealed. The vast interior of the grand city 
 church, with wreaths and holly drest, candles twinkling 
 softly among the evergreens, brass furnishings, and 
 hangings of gold-embroidered white, vases dressed with 
 delicate vines and brilliant hot-house flowers, all com- 
 bined to form a scene of glorious beauty. It wanted a 
 few minutes to time for service ; I moved to my seat and 
 allowed my thoughts to dwell on my surroundings. The 
 dim, religious light prevailed, but a festive air pervaded 
 the holy place, laden with the subtle, penetrating, remi- 
 niscent odor of evergreens and redolent of memories 
 sweet and joyous. 
 
 Just as the sun, rising in majestic splendor over the 
 spotless earth, poured its earliest beams through the 
 
 [76] 
 
Christmas 
 
 magnificent window of stained glass in the east, glinting 
 over the vaulted ceiling of dark polished oak, and cast- 
 ing long lines of glorified light through aisles and 
 archways, the grand organ pealed forth its signal to the 
 choir, a hush fell upon the place, and from the distance 
 came the notes of the Christmas hymn, soft and low, 
 swelling into triumphant melody as the Cross appeared. 
 
 Mechanically I rose to my feet and the procession 
 of white-clad forms moved up the aisles, through the 
 sunshine, and entered their places, singing their glad 
 song as they marched. Infinite space divided me from 
 the familiar scene. The "Vanished Hand" drew aside 
 the veil. "The Voice that is still" yet echoed from 
 Memory's distant shore, " Cease your wild wailing, sad 
 Heart; put back the tears, and look while you may." 
 
 Forty years arranged themselves into a vista of 
 diminishing circles, reaching far into the past, through 
 which I gazed, spell-bound, at the spectacle revealed. 
 Bright sunshine, snow-covered earth far and wide; ice- 
 bound twigs and branches glittering in the light; a little 
 brown church, nestling so closely among the pine, cedar 
 and holly, with clinging vines, as to make easy the task 
 of Christmas decorating, for which the young people of 
 the two neighborhoods were gathering. A train of plan- 
 tation wagons appeared, each with its bed of clean hay, 
 on which were seated a party of six or eight ladies; its 
 negro driver in rough coat, white woolen muffler and 
 mittens, and cap drawn closely over the ears; its four 
 shining mules, their nostrils emitting whirling sprays of 
 vapor, as they deftly made their way up the steep hills, 
 or rattled down at a pace which caused the older mem- 
 bers of the party to hold their breath in terror, and the 
 younger ones to scream with laughter, — the frozen, 
 slippery condition of the roads making holding back 
 
 [77] 
 
When I Was a Little Girl 
 
 impossible, notwithstanding the occasional "Whoa!" 
 of the grinning drivers. 
 
 A roundabout way was taken to collect the reddest 
 holly berries, the largest bunches of mistletoe, and the 
 longest gray moss, which were effectively used In deco- 
 rating, and each cross-roads brought its addition to 
 the party. Shouts could be heard in the distance from 
 all directions, before the horsemen appeared with offer- 
 ings of mistletoe, whose bright leaves and large bunches 
 of opal berries betrayed the perilous heights from which 
 they had been gathered, and caused the girls to bring 
 forth counter attractions In their brightest smiles and 
 most cordial welcomes, vainly hoping to avert the scorn 
 and derision they feared for their own little store. 
 
 Within the church preparations were being made 
 for our comfort. Prim Mrs. Halstead, stepping in 
 through the tiny vestry room, whose outer door opened 
 into the side yard of the rectory, was well pleased to 
 find our Torm at his post. " Good morning, Thomas," 
 she said. "You are here, are you?" "Yes, ma'am; 
 I'se here, ma'am; look lak I'se alius de one ter git here 
 fus' an' have dis fire to make," answered Torm, with a 
 smiling face, as he spread his enormous hands, like can- 
 vased hams In their white mittens, over the polished 
 stove, now reddening with the heat, "Well, no one 
 could make a better fire, Thomas. Who did you bring 
 with you?" "I fotch 'em all, ma'am — Missy and 
 Miss Patty, an' all — dey out dere in de woods gittin' 
 vines — here dey comes now." 
 
 Standing In the open door, Mr. Halstead received 
 the party with even more than his usual satisfaction, for 
 St. Mary's was to have the extraordinary honor of the 
 Bishop's visit at Christmas. An unprecedented fall of 
 snow, fourteen inches on a level, took our people com- 
 
 [78] 
 
THE LITTLE BROWN CHURCH 
 
Christmas 
 
 pletely by surprise, and so demoralized the entire neigh- 
 borhood that no team could be found strong enough, no 
 driver bold enough, to undertake the trip of thirty miles 
 to Durant, the nearest railroad station, so the Bishop 
 found himself a prisoner among us, and very superior 
 were the airs, and very unnatural the graces with which 
 we commiserated the discomfiture of our sister parish 
 of Linden, twelve miles away through the snow, whose 
 time we had monopolized and whose spiritual needs 
 must now await his next visitation. 
 
 In came the gay crowd, vainly trying to remember 
 that they were in church, as the rector said, and to 
 reduce their spirits to a proper level, and the work of 
 decorating began In earnest. Torm stretched long cords 
 for the wreaths and busied himself passing hammer and 
 tacks, scissors and twine, bunches of cedar and bits of 
 information from one group or couple to another, ever 
 singling out those who were happily paired off. In the 
 far corners, upon whom to press his attentions. He 
 handed them water, insisted upon their coming nearer 
 the fire, and kept them well supplied with materials, 
 grinning broadly as they made excuses to get him away. 
 "MIssey," he said, coming over to me, "jes' look er 
 yonder at Mars' Stuart and Miss Jean — de church ain't 
 gwlne ter git dressed 'fore Christmas ef it 'pen's on 
 dem — he jes' er whittlln' cedar, an' she ain't wrapped 
 none er her wreath hawdly — Miss Patty an' all dem 
 young uns is er sewin' Lorry Mundy leaves on dem 
 pas'eboa'd letters, an' jes' look at de white lilies dey 
 done made out er paper ! Dey ain't got nothin' else to 
 study 'bout." "Now, Torm," I said, "let them alone 
 and bring in some wood for the stove. I'm cold, and 
 we have work to do in here ; bring the high stepladder, 
 and here comes Mr. Halstead with Campbell and Ken- 
 
 [79] 
 
When I Was a Little Girl 
 
 neth to tack these Inscriptions over the altar; ask Reggie 
 to bring the letters from the little girls." 
 
 " Stand back, everybody," called Kenneth from his 
 elevated stand, " and see if this line is straight. How do 
 you spell Alleluia? 'On earth p-e-a-c-' — what is the 
 matter with this el — covered on the wrong side, as I 
 am a sinner! Jean, I'll bet that was your work; don't 
 try to lay it on little Patty; you and Stuart will have to 
 try again to put the final e to your peace! There, now," 
 glancing at Mr. Halstead, who was laughing silently, 
 " remember, you are all in church. Hush, Torm, and 
 help me move this ladder." "Hi, Missy," said Torm, 
 " what dat I tell ye ? Don't dat beat yer time, people ? " 
 
 Very busy, and very consequential, now was our 
 rector. The proper celebrating of two such occasions 
 in one called forth no small amount of energy, and 
 executive ability, and right nobly did the good man 
 prove himself equal to the emergency. As soon as I saw 
 the flutter of his coat-tails, so ludicrously inconsistent 
 with the earnest gravity of his face, I knew he had a 
 scheme on foot, and as. soon as I saw his chin with its 
 long gray beard raised high in the air and ducked down 
 into his collar, as he caught sight of me and made for 
 my corner, I knew it had to do with the music. " See 
 here, Miriam," said he, " do you think we could manage 
 to have the vested choir march in singing on Christmas 
 morning? " "Oh, Mr. Halstead! Why, er — why, — 
 day after tomorrow?" "Well," he said, "it is short 
 notice, but you have practiced them pretty faithfully, 
 and they do remarkably well, and I thought it would 
 please the Bishop." " But, Mr. Halstead, their vest- 
 ments are not all ready, and we have no cross. Grand- 
 father is going to give us one, but I told him Easter 
 would be time enough." " Well," said Mr. Halstead, " I 
 
 [80] 
 
THE BISHOP 
 
Christmas 
 
 will see to the cross; I will make one of wood, covered 
 with gold paper, and dressed with evergreens, which will 
 answer. There are seven of our own boys at home for the 
 holidays, and four boys are their guests, making eleven, 
 all familiar with the work. With your nine scholars they 
 would make a very respectable choir, and as to vest- 
 ments, they brought all home for repairs; some of your 
 boys are provided, and the four little fellows might be 
 left out." "Left out!" I cried in indignation. "No, 
 sir; I'll make their new cottas myself, or Grandmother 
 will have it done. I'll manage it, Mr. Halstead. The 
 idea of leaving my little boys out ! Yes, sir, I'll manage 
 it; with those big University boys to lead them they will 
 do well, I am sure." 
 
 " Missy, hit's er gittin' mighty late," said Torm, 
 and standing off for a last admiring look, we congratu- 
 lated each other upon the result of our labors, said 
 good-bye to Mr. and Mrs. Halstead, and closed the 
 doors, leaving everything swept and garnished. 
 
 " Now, Torm, what are you waiting for?" I asked. 
 " Missy, don't you hear Mr. Halstead a-hollerin' at me? 
 He say, ' Wait a moment ! ' " " Oh, certainly," I replied, 
 "what is it, Mr. Halstead? Is there anything we can 
 do?" "Well, see here, Miriam," said he, "I hate to 
 impose upon good nature, — you have so much to do 
 about the music and other things, but the other wagons 
 have all gone and I am in a dilemma." " Why, what is 
 it, Mr. Halstead? Grandmother charged me to find out 
 if there was anything to be done." " Well, the Bishop's 
 robe — it must be done up, and there was no time." 
 " Oh, give it to me," I said. " I'll bring it back Christ- 
 mas morning when I come to church — I have to come 
 early, you know; I'll have it here in time. Good-bye; 
 we are late, and it is so cold." 
 
 [81] 
 
When I Was a Little Girl 
 
 And now it was Christmas Eve, and the hilarity at 
 its climax. Grandfather had the big wagon put on run- 
 ners, and for the first time in our lives we went sleighing. 
 The boys, with Torm to drive, took us to the holly 
 grove in search of a Christmas tree. We selected one 
 with bright red berries, and fastened pine boughs here 
 and there to relieve the stiffness, with their drooping 
 tassels and brown burrs. They placed it in a tub of 
 sand in the big front parlor, which had four large win- 
 dows opening down to the floor, in order that all the 
 people might have full view of the brilliant sight from 
 the gallery. We covered the tub down to the floor with 
 gray moss and piled it high with apples and oranges, 
 decorated the branches with balls and festooned strings 
 of popcorn, and then, after placing as many wax candles 
 as could possibly be made to stick, to be lighted at the 
 proper time, we closed the door securely, leaving Santa 
 Claus in undisturbed possession, and the great chimney 
 open for his use. 
 
 "Mammy, where are the boys?" I asked, going 
 into the dining-room. " De Lawd knows, honey," she 
 answered; "dey gone off somewhar wid Torm, an' he 
 ort ter be here settin' de table; I dunno what dey doin' 
 'dout dey fixin' de Christmas gun [a large hollow log, 
 stuffed with moss and rags and plenty of powder, and a 
 fuse arranged so as to explode it at daylight] — I want 
 'em to put it a long way fum de house ef dey got ter 
 have it — hit le-ter-mo-ter skeered de life out er me las' 
 year. Now, here ye come 1 " And Mammy's turban 
 began to quake ominously. "What ye doin' c'lectin' 
 'roun' me wid yer ban's in yer pockets, er whistlin' so 
 innercent? Y'up to some devilment — yesy'is, too — I 
 knows ye! Git fum berhine me! Oh, Je — ! Dar, 
 now, ye le-ter-mo-ter made me say a bad word! " And 
 
 [82] 
 
Christmas 
 
 Mammy whirled around, flirting her skimpy skirts as 
 far as they would go, and caught Reggie by his waist- 
 band. "Now, Regnaul," she said, "listen ter me; ef 
 you does th'ow another om^ erdem firecrackers — under 
 my coat-tail — I'll ketch you an' I'll kiss you in de mouf, 
 right in de presunce er all dem gals ! — You hear me, 
 mun, 'fo' Gawd, I'll do It! I notter gwine ter be pes- 
 tered dis er way, ef ye is nineteen year old! " And for 
 a little while Reggie was very careful, knowing full well 
 that if Mammy chose to carry her threat into execution 
 she would have able support. 
 
 The day of days was ushered in before light by a 
 bang and a roar, which testified to the accuracy of 
 Torm's calculations as to the length of that fuse, and 
 there was no more sleep or rest for old or young. The 
 fires were kept up all night in our rooms in order that 
 the children might not suffer from the cold, when they 
 must investigate the long row of stockings which were 
 " hung by the chimney with care " in Grandmother's 
 room. When Uncle Rock came with fresh logs for the 
 fire, he tiptoed to the door, which he opened suddenly 
 and shouted, "Christmas gif ! Christmas gif !" to the 
 whole flock of little white-clad, barefooted ones, danc- 
 ing with ecstacy and glee, whom Mammy and Miranda 
 were vainly trying to get into their clothes. They raised 
 an answering cry, and instantly, from every nook and 
 corner of the house was echoed, " Christmas gif 1 Christ- 
 mas gif, Marster I Christmas gif, Mistis ! Christmas 
 gif, chillun ! " in unrestrained freedom and joy, all know- 
 ing full well that their most daring advances would be 
 cordially and affectionately accepted and returned, for 
 was it not Christmas? 
 
 Grandfather and Grandmother, undisturbed by the 
 noise and confusion, lent their aid to all schemes with 
 
 [83] 
 
When I Was a Little Girl 
 
 ready sympathy, unless some one, In the ardor of excite- 
 ment, would have imposed upon the young or helpless, 
 who were promptly and vigorously protected. 
 
 Each one protested violently, " I caught you, Christ- 
 mas gif — you got ter gimme somethin' I " but all were 
 willing to wait for the tree after dinner, well satisfied 
 that they were to be generously remembered. 
 
 The beautiful snow added zest to every undertak- 
 ing; the air was thick with flying balls and resounding 
 with good-natured shouts, as boys and girls of all ages, 
 sizes and colors, mingled in a happy throng, disregarding 
 benumbed toes and fingers, wet collars, icicles thrust 
 down backs or up sleeves, or sometimes a bloody nose. 
 Going into the warm kitchen to thaw our limbs for more 
 vigorous action, the flop-flop of a dozen egg-beaters 
 greeted our ears. "Oh, the egg-nog!" we all cried. 
 " Mammy, let us help." " Git out de way I " said Aunt 
 Nacky, who was nervous and excited, in constant dread 
 of the fearful firecrackers. " Lemme make out my 
 rolls; how in de name er Gawd I gwine ter git break- 
 fus' ? Ef de white folks keep er comin' in de kitchen I 
 jes' well's ter put on my bonnet and set in de parlor — 
 dar, now I" "Well, come on, chlllun," said Mammy; 
 " hit's ready ter car'y in de house, anyhow," and hfting 
 an enormous bowl, she led the way, followed by a pro- 
 cession of assistants, similarly loaded, and the entire 
 family immediately crowded around her. " Could egg- 
 nog possibly be made in anything but a yellow bowl?" 
 asked Miss Hale, regarding the long row on the pantry 
 shelf with interest. " They certainly are a good match 
 for the foaming contents." " Miss Leslie's recipes 
 always begin, ' Break a dozen eggs Into a yellow bowl,' " 
 said Grandmother, smiling. " I ain't studdin' Miss 
 Leslie," said Mammy, with a scornful toss of her tur- 
 
 [84] 
 
Christmas 
 
 baned head. " What dat ole maid know 'bout cookin' ? " 
 " She ain't nothin' but a Yankee, nohow." " Take care, 
 Aunt Polly," said Miss Hale, with a good-natured 
 laugh. "I'm a Yankee!" "No, ye'ain't, neither; ye 
 ain't what I calls a Yankee. Now, gimme de ladle an' 
 fetch yer glasses an' yer cups an' yer bowls an' yer 
 spoons — Hoo-rah ! " 
 
 After breakfast Torm drove the wagon close to the 
 back gallery through snow up to the hubs ; the hay was 
 thick and soft, and Grandmother sent rugs, blankets 
 and comforters until there seemed to be no room left 
 for the children; but we all crowded in, with Jane to 
 take care of Unie, and hurried off, for I must get to the 
 church early for a last practice with my boys. We were 
 driving around the curve to the front, when Torm pulled 
 up and listened. "Ain't dat Mammy callin'? Yes; an' 
 what is dat she's a-wavin' at us? Missy, hit look lak a 
 red-en' towel. I ain't sayin' it is a red-en' towel, but it 
 look lak it," and he waited near the steps. "Who dat 
 callin' me, Mammy? You black nigger, you — I ain't 
 none er yo' mammy! Git down out er dat wagin an' 
 come git dis bun'le. I notter gwine ter step down in de 
 wet in my cyarpit slippers ! I done pin hit up good, 
 Missy, in one er yo' Grandmother's big new towels." 
 " Oh ! — the Bishop's robe ! " I cried. " Just suppose I 
 had forgotten it ! " " Suppose ^j^ /i^i f ergot it? Ef ye 
 ain't f ergot it I dunno what ye done den," said Mammy. 
 " Ole Marster sho' would er spoke de Word dis day in 
 his nice black suit ef it hadn't er been fer Mammy, which 
 'pear lak ter me would er look mo' suitubler, anyhow, 
 den all dis yere! De Lawd er mussy, jes' look at dat 
 chile, all out de kiver I Missy, you promised me to keep 
 de comf erter over her years I Gawd bless its little mouf , 
 hit's too cole fer you to go out — come, le's me an' you 
 
 [85] 
 
When I Was a Little Girl 
 
 go back in de house an' make some candy — come onter 
 Mammy, honey," and forgetting her " cyarpit slippers," 
 Mammy stepped down into the snow and held out her 
 hands to Unie, but Torm said, " Hoo-ee ! Ain't Reggie 
 an' dem gwine ter sing pretty ter day? / wants ter see 
 'em in dey white robes jes' lak de angels." "Oh, Torm, 
 do go on," I said. "You shet up, nigger," called 
 Mammy. "She was jes' studdin' 'bout comin' ter me 
 ef you hadn't er put in yer big mouf — I gwine ter tell 
 Mistis on you, mun ! Pull dat comferter over dat chile's 
 years, Missee — e — e I " 
 
 We reached the church after a laborious, but withal 
 delightful, drive through the snow. " Jane, carry this 
 bundle to the vestry room. I'll be there as soon as I get 
 the children in," I said. "Now, children, remember, 
 there will be a good many outsiders here today, — I 
 mean people who are not accustomed to our church, and 
 our ways, so we must all be very careful to attend to the 
 prayer books and rise and kneel in time — don't forget. 
 Grandfather and Grandmother and all the others will 
 be here directly — now be good — I must go to see 
 about the music." And, sweUing with importance, I 
 said, " Come, Reggie, call the choir boys and let's go 
 over the hymn; we have no time to lose before eleven 
 o'clock. Here come Mr. and Mrs. Halstead now." 
 
 I seated myself at the little organ and we had a last 
 rehearsal, and I must own up to no small degree of 
 pride as their really fine voices rose in perfect harmony, 
 and keeping time with their march. It needed only a 
 glance at Mr. Halstead's face to assure me of our suc- 
 cess. And now it was nearly time for the congregation to 
 assemble — indeed, many were already there, and I 
 went into the vestry room to await the hour for service, 
 when I must enter the church first of all. " Jane," said 
 
 [86] 
 
Christmas 
 
 I, "unpin the Bishop's robe and hang it right there 
 beside Mr. Halstead's surpHce, where he can't help see- 
 ing it — there, that will do." "Torm," said Jane, "whar 
 dat towel? " " Dar hit right dar berhine Missy on dat 
 ch — I Well, I know I seed it dar — whar is it?" and 
 Torm stared blankly at the chair. " Dat what I axin' 
 you," said Jane; "whar is it?" "I know I put it dar. 
 Sis' Polly charge me ter take keer Mistis' red-en' towel, 
 an' now you done los' it! You better git dat towel, 
 muni" "Now, Missy," said Torm, "you hear dat 
 nigger? What I got ter do wid de towel?" "Oh, 
 never mind now, Jane," I said, " it must be right around 
 somewhere — it will turn up." Little did I dream where! 
 "Here come the Bishop and Mr. Halstead; I must go. 
 Are all the boys here? Yes, my four dear little ones 
 and all — Reggie, do look after them." 
 
 The voluntary, which we decided, in view of so much 
 more singing than usual, must be instrumental, was 
 safely over. I raised my fingers from the keys, listen- 
 ing intently for the "Amen" which should end the 
 Bishop's prayer, when the hymn must begin, and clear 
 and distinct in the stillness came Torm's voice from 
 behind the open door : " Jane I Dar dat towel. Name 
 er Gawdl can't ye git it?" "No!" "Oh, mercy!'' 
 thought I, like a flash. " Can't they let the old towel 
 alone? " "Amen," sang the boys, and recovering myself 
 by a mighty effort, I began the accompaniment exactly 
 on time. Oh, how beautifully they were doing their 
 part, viewed from the little mirror I had placed before 
 me, in order to see behind my back. What an inspira- 
 tion to do my best! How pleased the Bishop and Mr. 
 Halstead would be I Oh, everything was all right — and 
 yet there surely was something in the air — what was 
 the matter? How I did want to look, but I must play 
 
 [87] 
 
When I Was a Little Girl 
 
 until the hymn was over. They were beginning to move 
 into the stalls (twenty chairs, arranged in rows). 
 
 Mr. Halstead and the young rector from Linden 
 moved reverently, one on each side, to allow the Bishop 
 to pass to the chancel. What was the matter with the 
 young rector from Linden? Was he — ? Oh, of course 
 not, but what a cough he had ! How red his face was I 
 "Amen," sang the boys once more, and I turned to look. 
 What on earth was that so persistently dogging the 
 Bishop's footsteps, flapping impudently in time with 
 every motion as he moved slowly up the three steps to 
 the altar? Oh, could it be, — " The Lord Is in His Holy 
 
 Temple; Let all the earth keep si " "Look at dat 
 
 towel !" cried Unie, from her perch on the back of 
 Grandfather's seat, where, with his arm around her, she 
 viewed the scene, so new and beautiful to her. Never 
 shall I forget the look of mingled consternation and 
 condemnation with which our good rector regarded his 
 flock, when he jerked his head up from his book and 
 laid off that long forefinger in a comprehensive sweep, 
 as he had a habit of doing to give emphasis to his words, 
 and found them all, from Grandfather down to little 
 Unie, struggling in frantic, but futile, efforts to "keep 
 silence before Him " ! 
 
 The question in every heart, "Whatmustbe done?" 
 was quickly settled by Patty, the tom-boy, the daredevil, 
 the promoter of all schemes, the teacher of all tricks, 
 the adviser of all adventures, — bright, beloved Patty! 
 Without a questioning look to anyone, she moved noise- 
 lessly from her seat, passed into the vestry room in a 
 twinkling, and, appearing at the altar before we knew 
 what was In her mind, she tried to remove the offending 
 appendage, but that pin was put in to stay, and was far 
 up on the under side! Patty disappeared under the 
 
 [88] 
 
Christmas 
 
 Bishop's robe, and the dear Father in God was betrayed 
 into opening wide his eyes, but the benevolence which 
 had characterized his life was shining in their clear- 
 gray depths, the blessed song without words, which had 
 brought hope to many a fainting heart before, reassured 
 her as she looked fearfully up at him, plainly saying, " I 
 am very much surprised at this proceeding, but it is 
 Patty — it must be right." 
 
 We blundered through the service, becoming grad- 
 ually quiet, until at last, with bowed heads and uplifted 
 hearts, we beheld the Bishop enter the pulpit and stand 
 before us in his noble beauty, his magnetic, angelic per- 
 sonality claiming and holding our loving and devoted 
 attention through his long sermon. 
 
 There was a large class confirmed that day, and with 
 the gentle, firm pressure of those dear hands on our 
 heads we felt that ever thereafter to sin was to compro- 
 mise him — to bow his beautiful white head in grief and 
 sorrow for us ; so comprehensive and all-powerful was 
 his love, embracing all within the great field of his 
 wonderful work. 
 
 Never was there such a blending of purity and wis- 
 dom, gentleness and power, tender love and unfaltering 
 condemnation, as in our grand old Bishop, our beloved 
 " Father in God." His family are worthy representa- 
 tives, sons and grandsons being in the ministry, and 
 daughters and grand-daughters, as beautifully, if less 
 conspicuously, continuing the great work, which they 
 accepted as a legacy of priceless worth. It has been my 
 privilege through life to call them my closest friends; I 
 love and honor them, and thankfully accept their loving 
 ministrations as my birthright. 
 
 The Bishop went home with us, of course; so did 
 Mr. and Mrs. Halstead, and the young rector from 
 
 [89] 
 
When I Was a Little Girl 
 
 Linden, and with our own family and their guests, we 
 had thirty-one at our Christmas dinner. The Bishop 
 enjoyed the dinner, admired the church decorations, 
 praised the music, lauded Patty's daring act, and no one 
 laughed so merrily over the event of the morning as he. 
 He played with the children, told riddles to the young 
 folks, telling us to hold up two fingers if he should be 
 guilty of repeating one of last season's jokes; he held a 
 levee for the old darkies after dinner, and was the life 
 of the occasion at the grand opening of the doors for 
 the tree. 
 
 So ended Christmas at Penultima, and so ends the 
 story of my life, which was one long dream of peace and 
 happiness until Grandfather passed away, when the 
 earth seemed to fall from beneath my feet — all was 
 changed and dark. Dear Grandmother folded her 
 beautiful hands and waited, rousing herself after a 
 while for my sake. "Yes, dear child," she said, "your 
 Uncle is right, — you need a change; you must go home 
 with him to spend the winter," and, overruling my objec- 
 tions, she sent me away from her, little dreaming that it 
 was for the last time; she followed Grandfather that 
 winter — then the house was burned, and I was left 
 fatherless, and motherless, and homeless. 
 
 It seemed as though it would break my heart to 
 leave her in her loneliness, but she had other grandchil- 
 dren with her for the time, and she would have it so. As 
 we waited on the levee for the steamer, I turned for a 
 last look at my home, in full view from our elevated 
 position. The north wind blew across the river, rolling 
 the variegated autumn leaves in brilliant drifts over the 
 lawn. The sun was low and cast Its slanting rays over 
 a scene whose beauty needed only the element of life, 
 without which there Is a solemnity, a gloom, almost 
 
 [90] 
 
Christmas 
 
 amounting to desolation, with all due respect to the 
 beauties of nature. This need was provided in perfec- 
 tion by the presence of Grandmother McNeill, as she 
 stood in the open doorway, waving her hand to us, her 
 full, commanding figure erect and graceful, her eye deep 
 blue and sparkling, though seventy winters had left 
 their snows on her noble head, converting her once 
 sunny locks into a crown of glory — spotless, changeless 
 white. She was a picture of perfect old age, a loving 
 and lovely tribute to the tender care and devotion of 
 our venerated Grandfather, who, in his youth and 
 strength, the proudest and happiest of men, had led her 
 to the altar. " Do not ask me to leave here, my chil- 
 dren," she would say, when each one begged her to 
 share his or her home. " More than half a century ago 
 my husband seated me in this drawing-room, on our 
 wedding day, and with his arms about me, and his kisses 
 on my lips, he said: 'Come to my heart, and to my 
 home, Miriam, my wife, — our home now. We call it 
 Penultima — the last home but one!' My star of hope 
 has set, but its after-glow is guiding me surely to him, 
 and I must go from Penultima!'' 
 
 "Till death us do part 
 
 Ever one to remain," 
 To the new-plighted heart 
 Was a whisper of pain. 
 
 For the soul never dies, 
 
 And the life that is fled 
 Waits, widowed as I, 
 
 Until death us do wed. 
 
 [91] 
 
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