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 CLASS OF 1886; PH.D. THE JOHNS HOPKINS UNIVERSITY 
 
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UNIVERSITY OF N.C. AT CHAPEL HILL 
 
 00016896628 
 
 This book may be kept out one month unless a recall 
 notice is sent to you. It must be brought to the North 
 Carolina Collection (in Wilson Library) for renewal. 
 
 Form No. A-369 
 
I 
 
 ■ ■ 
 
MY SOUTHERN FRIENDS 
 
VKIFORM WITH THIS VOLUME, 
 
 And by the same Author, 
 "AMONG THE PINES." 
 
 (Fortieth 77iotisand.) 
 Price $1 00. 
 
MY 
 
 "SOUTHERN FRIENDS. 
 
 "ALL OF WHICH I SAW, AND PART OF WHICH I WAS." 
 
 BY 
 
 EDMUND KIKKE, pse.od 
 
 AUTHOR OP "AMONG THE PINES." 
 
 C<Vln 
 
 <&. 
 
 NEW YORK : 
 
 CARLETOK, PUBLISHES, 413 BROADWAY. 
 
 M.DCCC.LXIII. 
 
Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1863, by 
 
 GEORGE W. CAELETON, 
 
 In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the Southern 
 
 District of New York. 
 
 E. CKAIGHEAD, 
 Printer, Slereotyper, and Electrotyper, 
 
 Caitan 23uilDing, 
 
 81, 83, and 85 Centre Street. 
 

 TO 
 
 CHARLES GODFREY LELAND, 
 
 MT FEIEND, 
 
 AND THE FEIEND OF ETEEY MAX "WHO WOULD EXALT LABOE, 
 
 AND DIGXIFY THE LABOEEE, 
 
 | gjebkate iljb %mk 
 
 THE AUTHOR, 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 CHAPTER L— New York after Dark.— A Ballad Boy.— A House 
 in Anthony Street. — A Sick Woman. — Strange Guests, . . 9 
 
 CHAPTER II.— The Dying Mother.— A Strange Story.— A Moth- 
 er's Blessing, ..... . . 20 
 
 CHAPTER III. — A Stage-Coach Adventure. — "Squire Preston, 
 of Jones." — An Outside Passenger. — An Overturn, and its Con- 
 sequences. — Tom's Store. — An Unexpected Meeting, . . 41 
 
 CHAPTER IV.— The Negro-Trader.— A Turkey Match.— Nine- 
 teenth Century Civilization. — " A Prime Lot." — Almost a Duel, 55 
 
 CHAPTER V.— A Slave Sale.— " The Most Perfectest Gal in 
 Seven States." — Her History. — Two Hours of Agony, . . 70 
 
 CHAPTER VI.— On the Road.— A Southern Inn.—" Poor Trash." 
 — Snuff Dipping. — Sale of a White Man, . . .83 
 
 CHAPTER TIL— A Slave Mother.—" Young Joe."— City Negro- 
 Quarters.— " Am de Chile Free ? " . . . .94 
 
 CHAPTER VIII.— On the Plantation.— A Southern Gentleman.— 
 The Mansion.— A Beautiful Child.—" Old Joe," . . .102 
 
 CHAPTER IX.— Plantation Management.— An Old Preacher.— 
 A Black Overseer. — A Cute Darky. — A Hard Master, . . 109 
 
 CHAPTER X.— A Southern Woman.— A Ministering Angel.— A 
 Black Bookkeeper, . . . . • .124 
 
 CHAPTER XL— The Negro Meeting.— A Log Church.— A Fash- 
 ionable Prayer. — A - Negro Sermon. — Eccentric Exhortation, . 137 
 
 CHAPTER XII.— Black Clairvoyance.— Joe's House.— His Moth- 
 er. — Black Prophecy, ...... 148 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. — A Schoolmistress and a Wife. — Advertising 
 for a Governess. — The " Schulemarm." — A Death and a Wed- 
 ding, ........ 156 
 
 CHAPTER XIV.— Frank.— Correspondence, . . .165 
 
8 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGB 
 
 CHAPTER XV.— Russell, Rollins & Co.— The Old Warehouse.— 
 
 John Hallet. — Tardy Repentance, . . . . 16S 
 
 CHAPTER XVI.— Selma.— A Shrew that Would n't be Tamed.— 
 
 Selma at the Opera, ...... 17*7 
 
 CHAPTER XVII.— A Plantation Christmas.— Distributing the 
 
 Presents. — An Outdoor Breakdown. — A Happy Mother-in-Law. 
 
 — A Five-Thousand-Dollar Turn-out, .... 186 
 CHAPTER XVIII.— Family Jars.— The Governess in a Passion, . 197 
 CHAPTER XIX.— The Negro Wedding.— Grinning Darkness.— 
 
 Joe's Address. — White Serving, ..... 200 
 CHAPTER XX.— A Deathbed.— Silent Quarters.— " The Ruling 
 
 Passion Strong in Death," ..... 210 
 
 "CHAPTER XXL— Southern Chivalry.— Model Negro-Houses.— 
 
 A Slave-Whipping, ...... 214 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. — Difficulties. — Ae Unnatural Connection. — 
 
 44 Bread " that " Returned after Many Days," . . .222 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII.— A Sudden Dissolution.— A "Character" 
 
 Worth $30,000.— A Disclosure, . . . . .234 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV.— A Hurried Journey.— Horses " Scarcer than 
 
 Hens' Teeth," . . . . . . . 24? 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. — Truth that is Stranger than Fiction. — The 
 
 Story of Selma. — A Brave Negress, .... 253 
 
 CHAPTER XXVL— The Negro Sale.— Mrs. Preston's Mishaps.— 
 
 " The Sins of the Fathers are Visited upon the Children." — A 
 
 Bad Tree that Bore Good Fruit. — Hallet Unmasked, . . 259 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. — The Lynching. — Gaston as Judge. — Larkin 
 
 as Counsel. — Mulock gets his Deserts, .... 2S0 
 CHAPTER XXVIII.—" Dead ! Dead ! "— " Would You have Me 
 
 Marry a Slave ? " — A Terrible Dream, . . . .291 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. — Conclusion. — In which the Author does not 
 
 do Justice to all of his Characters, .... 299 
 
 Last Words, ........ 
 
MY SOUTHERN FRIENDS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 NEW YORK AFTER DARK. 
 
 The clock of St. Paul's was sounding eight. Buttoning 
 my outside coat closely about me — for it "was a cold, stormy 
 night in November — I descended the steps of the Astor House 
 to visit, in the upper part of the city, the blue-eyed young 
 woman who is looking over my shoulder while I write this. 
 It was nearly twenty years ago, but she is young yet ! 
 
 As I closed the outer door, a small voice at my elbow, in 
 a tone broken by sobs, said : 
 
 " Sir — will you — please, sir — will you buy some ballads ? " 
 
 " Ballads ! a little fellow like you selling ballads at this 
 time of night ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir ; I haven't sold only three all day, sir. Do, 
 please, sir, do buy some ! " and as he stood under the gas 
 burner which lit the hotel porch, I saw that his face was red 
 with weeping. 
 
 " Come inside, my little man ; don't stand here in the cold. 
 "Who sends you out on nights like this to sell ballads ? " 
 1* 
 
10 MY SOUTHERN FRIENDS. 
 
 " Nobody, sir ; but mother is sick, and I have to sell 'em ! 
 She's had nothing to eat all day, sir. Oh ! do buy some — do 
 buy some, sir ! " 
 
 " I will, my good boy. But tell me, have you no father ? " 
 
 " Xo, sir ; I never had any ; and mother is sick, very sick, 
 sir ; and she's nobody to do anything for her but me — nobody ' 
 but me, sir ! " and he cried as if his very heart would break. 
 
 " Don't cry, my little boy, don't cry. I'll buy your ballads 
 — all of them ; " and I gave him two half-dollar pieces — all the 
 silver I had. 
 
 " I haven't got so many as that, sir ; I haven't got only 
 twenty, and they're only a cent apiece, sir ; " and with very 
 evident reluctance he tendered me back the money. 
 
 1,1 Oh ! never mind, my boy ; keep the money, and the bal- 
 lads too." 
 
 11 Oh, sir ! thank you, sir ! Mother will be so glad, sir ! " 
 and he turned to go ; but his feelings overpowering him, he 
 hid his little face in the big blanket-shawl which he wore, and 
 sobbed louder and harder than before. 
 
 " Where does your mother live, my boy ?" 
 
 " Round in Anthony street, sir. Some good folks there 
 give her a room, sir." 
 
 " Did you say she was sick ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir ; very sick. The doctor says she can't live only 
 a little while, sir." 
 
 "And what will become of you when she is dead ? " 
 
 " I don't know, sir. Mother savs God will take care of 
 
 me, sir 
 
 
 " Come, my little fellow, don't cry any more. I'll go with 
 you, and see your mother." 
 
NEW YORK AFTER DARK. 11 
 
 " Oh ! thank you, sir. Mother will be so glad to have 
 vou — so glad to thank you, sir ; " and, looking up timidly in 
 my face, he added : " You'll love mother, sir ! " 
 
 I took his hand in mine, and we went out into the storm. 
 
 He was not more than seven years old, and had a bright, 
 intelligent, but pale and peaked face. He wore thin, patched 
 trowsers, a small, ragged cap, and large, tattered boots, and 
 over his shoulders was a worn woollen shawl. I could not 
 see the remainder of his clothing, but I afterward discovered 
 that a man's waistcoat was his only other garment. 
 
 As I have said, it was a bleak, stormy night. The rain, 
 which had fallen all the day, froze as it fell, and the sharp 
 wintry wind swept down Broadway, sending an icy chill to 
 my very bones, and making the little hand I held in mine 
 tremble with cold. We passed several blocks in silence, when 
 the child turned into a side street. 
 
 " My little fellow," I said, " this is not Anthony street — • 
 that is further on." 
 
 '• I know it, sir ; but I want to get mother some bread, sir. 
 A good gentleman down here sells it to me very cheap, sir." 
 
 We crossed a couple of streets, and stopped at a corner 
 grocery. 
 
 " Why, my little 'un," said the large, red-faced man behind 
 the counter, " I didn't know what had become of ye ! Why 
 haven't ve ben here to-dav ? " 
 
 "I hadn't any money, sir," replied the little boy. 
 
 "An' haven't ye had any bread to-day, sonny?" 
 
 " Mother hasn't had any, sir. A little bit was left last 
 night, but she made me eat that, sir." 
 
 " D — n it, an' hasn't she had any all day ? Ye mustn't do 
 
12 MY SOUTHERN FRIENDS. 
 
 that agin, sonny ; ye must come, -whether yeVe money or no. 
 Times is hard, but, I swear, I kin giveyoua.loaf any time." 
 
 " I thank you, sir," I said, advancing from the doorway, 
 whore I had stood unobserved ; "I will pay you ;" and taking 
 a roll of bills from my pocket, I gave him one. " You know 
 what thev want ; send it to them at once." 
 
 The man stared at me for a moment, then said : 
 
 " Do ye know 'em, sir ? " 
 
 " No ; I am just going there." 
 
 "Well, do, sir; they're bad off. ^e kin do real good 
 there, no mistake." 
 
 11 I'll see," I replied ; and taking the bread in one hand, 
 and the little boy by the other, I again started for his mother's. 
 I was always a rapid walker, but I had difficulty in keeping up 
 with the little fellow as he trotted along at my side. 
 
 We soon stopped at the door of an old, weather-worn 
 building, which I saw by the light of the street lamp was of 
 dingy brick, three stories high, and hermetically sealed by 
 green board shutters. It stood but one step above the ground, 
 and a dim light, which came through the low basement win- 
 dows, showed that even its cellar was occupied. My little 
 guide rang the bell, and in a moment a panel of the door 
 opened, and a shrill voice asked : 
 
 " Who's there ? " 
 
 " Onlv me, ma'am. Please let me in." 
 
 u What ! you. Franky, out so late as this ! " exclaimed the 
 woman, undoing the chain which held the door. As she was 
 about to close if, she caught sight of me, and eying me for a 
 moment, said : " Walk in, sir." As I complied with the invi- 
 tation, she added, pointing to a room opening from the hall : 
 " Step in there, sir." 
 
NEW YORK AFTER DARK. 13 
 
 " He's come to see mother, ma'am," said the little boy. 
 
 " You can't see her, sir ; she's sick, and don't see company 
 any more." 
 
 " I wish to see her for only a moment, madam." 
 
 11 But she can't see nobody now, sir." 
 
 " Oh ! mother would like to see him very much, ma'am ; 
 he's a very good gentleman, ma'am," said the child, in a plead- 
 ing, winning tone. 
 
 The real object of my visit seemed to break upon the 
 woman, for, making a low courtesy, she said : 
 
 " Oh ! she will be glad to see you, sir ; she's very bad off, 
 very bad indeed , " and she led the way at once to the base- 
 ment stairway. 
 
 The woman was about forty, with a round, full form, a red 
 bloated face, and eyes which looked as if they had not known 
 a wink of sleep for years. She wore a dirty lace cap, trimmed 
 with gaudy colors, and a tawdry red and black dress, laid off 
 in large squares, like the map of Philadelphia. It was very 
 low iri the neck — remarkablv so for the season — and disclosed 
 a scorched, florid skin, and a rough, mountainous bosom. 
 
 The furnishings of the hall had a shabby-genteel look, till 
 we reached the basement stairs, when everything became bare, 
 and dark, and dirty. The woman led the way down, and 
 opened the door of a front room — the only one on the floor, 
 the rest of the space being occupied as a cellar. The room 
 had a forlorn, cheerless appearance. Its front wall was of 
 naked brick, through which the moisture had crept, dotting it 
 every here and there with large water-stains and blotches of 
 mould ; and its other sides were of rough boards, placed up- 
 right, and partially covered with a soiled, ragged paper. Its 
 
14 MY SOUTHERN FKIEXUS. 
 
 floor was of wide, impaintcd plank. A huge chimney stack 
 protruded some three feet into the room, and in it was a hole 
 which admitted the pipe of a rusty air-tight stove, that gave 
 out just enough heat to take the chill edge off the damp, heavy 
 atmosphere. This stove, a small stand resting against the 
 vail, a broken-backed chair, and a low, narrow bed covered 
 with a ragged patchwork counterpane, were the only furniture 
 of the apartment. And that room was the home of two 
 human beings. 
 
 " How do you feel to-night, Fanny ? " asked the woman, 
 as she approached the low bed in the corner. There was a 
 reply, but it was too faint for me to hear. 
 
 " Here, mamma," said the little bov, taking me bv the 
 hand and leading me to the bedside, " here's a good gentleman, 
 who's come to see you. He's very good, mamma ; he's given 
 me a whole dollar, and got you lots of things at the store ; oh ! 
 lots of things ! " and the little fellow threw his arms around 
 his mother's neck, and kissed her again and again in his joy. 
 
 The mother turned her eye upon me — such an eye ! It 
 seemed a black flame. And her face — so pale, so wan, so 
 woebegone, and yet so wildly, strangely beautiful — seemed 
 that of some fallen angel, who, after long ages of torment, had 
 been purified, and fitted again for heaven ! And it was so. 
 She had suffered all the woe, she had wept for all the sin, and 
 then she stood white and pure before the everlasting gates 
 which were opening to let her in ! 
 
 She reached me her thin, weak hand, and in a low voice 
 said : " I thank you, sir." 
 
 " You are welcome, madam. You are very sick ; it hurts 
 you to speak ? " 
 
NEW YORK AFTER DARK. 15 
 
 She nodded slightly, but said nothing. I turned to the 
 woman who had admitted me, and in a low tone said : " I 
 never saw a person die ; is she not dying ? " 
 
 " No, sir, I guess not. She's seemed so for a good many 
 days." 
 
 " Has she had a physician ? " 
 
 " Not for nio-h a month. A doctor come once or twice, but 
 he said it wan't no use — he couldn't help her." 
 
 "But she should have help at once. Have you any one 
 you can send ? " 
 
 " Oh yes ; I can manage that. What doctor will you 
 have ? " 
 
 I wrote on a piece of paper the name of an acquaintance — 
 a skilful and experienced physician, who lived not far off — and 
 gave it to her. 
 
 " And can't you make her a cup of tea, and a little chicken 
 broth ? She has had nothing all day." 
 
 " Nothing all day ! I'm sure I didn't know it ! I'm poor, 
 sir — you don't know how poor — but she shan't starve in my 
 house." 
 
 " I suppose she didn't like to speak of it ; but get her some- 
 thing as soon as you can. I'll pay you for your trouble." 
 
 " I don't want any pay, sir," she replied, as she turned and 
 darted from the doorway as nimbly as if she had not been fat 
 and forty. 
 
 She soon returned with the tea and broth, and gave them 
 to the sick girl, a spoonful at a time, she being too weak to sit 
 up. She had tasted nothing of the kind for weeks, and it 
 greatly revived her. 
 
 After a time, the doctor came. He felt her pulso, asked 
 
1 G M Y SOUTHERN FRIENDS. 
 
 her a few questions in a low tone, and then wrote some simple 
 directions. When lie had done that, he turned to me, and 
 said : " Step outside for a moment; I want to speak with you." 
 
 As we passed out, the woman said to us : 
 
 " Gentlemen, don't stand in the cold. "Walk up into the 
 parlor — the front room." 
 
 • "We did as she suggested, for the cellar way had a damp, 
 unhealthy air. 
 
 The parlor was furnished in a showy, tawdry style, and a 
 worn, ugly, flame-colored carpet covered its floor. A coal fire 
 was burning in the grate, and we sat down by it. As we did 
 so, I heard loud voices, mingled with laughter and the clinking 
 of glasses, in the adjoining room. Not appearing to notice the 
 noises, the doctor asked : 
 
 " Who is this woman ? " 
 
 " I don't know ; I never saw her before. Is she dying ? " 
 
 " No ; not now. But she can't last long ; a week, at the 
 most." 
 
 " She is evidently in consumption. That damp cellar has 
 killed her ; she should be got out of it," 
 
 " The cellar hasn't done it ; her very vitals are eaten up. 
 She's been beyond cure for many months ! " 
 
 "Is it possible ? And such a woman ! " 
 
 "Oh! I see such cases every day — women as fine-looking 
 as she is." 
 
 In a moment he rose to go, saying: "I can do nothing 
 more. But what do you intend to do here ? ,; 
 
 " I don't know what can be done. She should not be left 
 to die there." 
 
 " She'd prefer dying above ground, no doubt ; and if you 
 
NEW YORK AFTER DABS, 17 
 
 relish fleecing, you'll get her an upper room ; but she must die 
 soon, and a day or two, more or less, down there, won't make 
 any difference. Take my advice — don't throw your money 
 a-way, and don't stay here too late ; the house has a very hard 
 name, and some of its rough customers would think nothing of 
 throttling a spruce young fellow like you." 
 
 " I thank you, doctor ; but I think I'll run the risk — at least 
 for a while," and I laughed good-hum oredly at the benevolent 
 gentleman's caution. 
 
 " Well, if you lose your small change, don't charge it to 
 me." Saying this, he bade me " good night." 
 
 He found the door locked, barred, and secured by the large 
 chain, and was obliged to summon the woman. "When she 
 had let him out, I asked her into the parlor. 
 
 " Who is this sick person ? " I inquired. 
 
 "I don't know, sir. She never gave me no name but 
 Fanny. I found her and her little boy on the doorstep, one 
 night, nigh a month ago. She was crying hard, and seemed 
 very sick, and little Franky was a-trying to comfort her — he's 
 a brave, noble little fellow, sir. She told me she'd been turned 
 out of doors for not paying her rent, and was afeared she'd die 
 in the street, though she didn't seem to care much about that, 
 except for the boy — she took on terrible about him. She 
 didn't know what would become of him. I've to scrape very 
 hard to get along, sir, for times is hard ; but I couldn't see her 
 die there, so I took her in, and gave her a bed in the base- 
 ment. 'Twas all I could do ; but, poor thing ! she won't want 
 even that long." 
 
 " It was very good of you. How has she obtained food ? ' 
 
 " The little boy sells papers and ballads about the streets. 
 
18 MY SOUTHERN FRIENDS. 
 
 The newsman round the corner trusts him for 'em, and he's 
 -managed to make twenty-five cents or more, 'most every day." 
 
 11 Can't you give her another room ? She should not die 
 where she is." 
 
 " I know she shouldn't, sir ; but I hain't got another — all 
 of 'em is taken up ; and besides, sir," and she hesitated a mo- 
 ment, " the noise up here would disturb her." 
 
 I had not thought of that ; and expressing myself gratified 
 with her kindness, I passed down again to the basement. The 
 sick girl smiled as I asked : 
 
 II Do you feel better ? " 
 
 "Much better," she replied, in a voice stronger than before. 
 u I have not felt so well for a long time. I owe it to you, sir ! 
 I am very grateful ! " 
 
 " Don't speak of it. Wont you have a little more of the 
 broth ? " 
 
 11 No more, thank you. I won't trouble you any more, sir. 
 I shan't trouble any one long. But, oh sir ! my child ! my 
 little boy ! "What will become of him when I'm gone ? " and 
 she burst into an hysterical fit of weeping. 
 
 " Don't weep so. Calm yourself; such excitement will 
 kill you. God will take care of your child. I will try to 
 help him." 
 
 She looked at me with those deep, intense eyes. A new 
 light seemed to come into them ; it overspread her face, and lit 
 up her thin, wan features, with a strange glow. 
 
 " It must be so," she said ; " else why were you led here ? 
 God must have sent you to me for that ! '' 
 
 " No doubt He did. Let it comfort you to think so." 
 
 " It does, oh ! it does. And, O my Father ! " and she 
 
NEW YORK AFTER DARK. 19 
 
 looked up as she spoke : " I thank Thee ! Thy poor, sinful, 
 dying child thanks Thee for this ! " 
 
 I turned away to hide the emotion I could not repress. 
 After a moment, not seeing the little boy, I asked : 
 
 " "Where is your son ? " 
 
 " Here, sir ; " and turning down the bed-clothing, she 
 showed him sleeping quietly by her side, all unconscious of the 
 misery and the sin around him, and of the crisis through 
 which his young life was passing. 
 
 Saying I would return on the following day, I shortly 
 afterward bade her good night, and left the house. 
 
CHAPTER H. 
 
 THE DYING MOTHER. 
 
 It was noon on the following day when I again visited the 
 house in Anthony street. As I opened the door of the sick 
 woman's room, I was startled by her altered appearance. Her 
 eye had a strange, wild light, and her face already wore the 
 pallid hue of death. She was bolstered up in bed, and the 
 little boy was standing by her side, weeping. I took her hand 
 in mine, and in a voice which plainly spoke my fears, said : 
 
 " You are worse ! " 
 
 In broken gasps, and in a low, a very low tone, her lips 
 scarcely moving, she answered : 
 
 " No ! I am — better — much — better. I knew you — were 
 coming. She told me so." 
 
 " Who told you so ? " I asked, very kindly, for I saw that 
 her mind was wandering. 
 
 " My mother ; — she has been with me — all the day — and I 
 have been so — so happy, so — very happy ! I am going now — 
 going with her. I've only waited — for you ! " 
 
 " Say no more now ; you are too weak to talk." 
 
 " But I must talk. I am — dying ; and I must tell — you all 
 before — I go ! " 
 
THE DYING MOTHER. 21 
 
 " I would gladly hear you, but you have not strength for it 
 now. Let me get something to. revive you." 
 
 She nodded assent, and, looking at her son, said : 
 
 11 Take Franky." 
 
 The little boy kissed her, and followed me from the room. 
 When we had reached the upper landing, I summoned the 
 woman of the house, and said to him : 
 
 " Now, Franky, I want you to stay here a little while ; 
 your mother wishes to talk with me." 
 
 "But mother says she's dying, sir," cried the little fellow, 
 clinging closely to me. " I don't want her to die. Oh ! I 
 want to be with her ! " 
 
 " You shall be, very soon, my boy ; but your mother wants 
 you to stay here now." 
 
 He released his hold of my coat, and, sobbing violently, 
 went with the red-faced woman. I hurried back from the 
 apothecary's, and, seating myself on the rickety chair at her 
 bedside, gave the sick one the restorative. She soon re- 
 vived, and then, in broken sentences, and in a low, weak voice, 
 pausing every now and then to rest or to weep, she told me 
 her story. Weaving it into some details which I gathered 
 from others after her death, I give it to the reader as she out- 
 lined it to 'me. 
 
 She was the only daughter of a well-to-do farmer in the 
 
 town of B , in New Hamsphire. Her mother died when she 
 
 was a child, and left her to the care of a paternal aunt, who 
 became her father's housekeeper. This aunt had a cold, hard 
 nature, and no love for children, but was an exemplary, pious 
 woman. She denied herself every luxury, and would sit up 
 late of nights to braid straw and knit socks, that she might 
 
22 MY SOUTHERN FRIENDS. 
 
 send tracts and hymn books to the poor heathen ; but she 
 never gave a word of sympathy, or a look of love, to the 
 young being that was growing up at her side. The little girl 
 needed kindness and affection, as much as plants need the sun ; 
 but the good aunt had not these to give her. When the child 
 was six years old, she was sent to the district school. There 
 she met a little boy, not quite five years her senior, and they 
 soon became warm friends. He seemed a brave, manly lad, 
 and she thought no one ever so good or so handsome as he. 
 Her young heart found in him what it craved for — some one to 
 lean on and to love — and she loved him with all the strength 
 of her child-nature. He was very kind to her. Though his 
 home was a mile away, he came every morning to take her to 
 school ; and in the long summer vacations he almost lived at 
 her father's house. And thus four years flew away — flew as 
 fast as years that are winged with youth and love always fly ; 
 and though her father was harsh, and her aunt cold and stern, 
 she did not know a grief, or shed a tear, in all that time. 
 
 One day, late in summer, toward the close of those four 
 years, John — that was his name — came to her, his face beam- 
 ing all over with joy, and said : 
 
 " Fanny ! I am going — going to Boston. Father has 
 got me into a great store there — a great store, and I'm to stay 
 till I'm twenty-one. They won't pay me hardly anything — 
 only fifty dollars the first year, and twenty-five more every 
 other year ; but father says it's a great store, and it'll be the 
 making of me." And he danced and sang in his joy ; but she 
 wept in bitter grief. 
 
 AY ell, five more years rolled away — they were not winged 
 as before — and John came home to spend his two weeks of 
 
THE DYI KG MOTHER. 23 
 
 summer vacation. He had come every year ; but then he said 
 to her what he had never said before — that which a woman 
 never forgets. He told her that the old Quaker gentleman, 
 the head of the great house he was with, had taken a fancy to 
 him, and was going to send him to Europe, in the place of the 
 junior partner, who was sick, and might never get well. That 
 he should stay away a year ; but when he came back, he was 
 sure the old fellow would make him a partner, and then — and 
 he strained her to his heart as he said it— " then I will make 
 you my little wife, Fanny, and take you to Boston, and you 
 shall be a fine lady — as fine a lady as Kate Russell, the old 
 man's daughter." And again he danced and sang ; and again 
 she wept, but this time it was for joy. 
 
 He stayed away a little more than a year, and when he re- 
 turned he did not come at once to her, but wrote that he would 
 very soon. In a few days he sent her a newspaper, in which 
 was a marked notice, which read somewhat as follows : 
 
 " The co-partnership heretofore existing under the name and 
 style of Russell, Rollins & Co., has been dissolved by the death 
 of David Gray, Jr. 
 
 " The outstanding affairs will be settled, and the business con- 
 tinued, by the surviving partners, who have thff day admitted 
 Mr. John Hallet to an interest in their firm." 
 
 The truth had been gradually dawning upon me, yet when 
 she mentioned his name, I involuntarilv exclaimed : 
 
 " John Hallet ! and were you engaged to Jam ? " 
 
 The sick woman had paused from exhaustion, but mak- 
 ing a feeble effort to raise herself, she said, in a voice stronger 
 than before : 
 
 " Do you know him, sir ? " 
 
24 MY SOUTHERN FRIENDS. 
 
 "Know him? Yes, madam;" and I paused and spoke in 
 a lower tone, for I saw that my manner was unduly exciting 
 her ; " I know him. well." 
 
 I did know him well ; and it was on the evening of the 
 day that notice was written, that I, a boy of sixteen, with 
 my hat in my hand, entered the inner office of the counting 
 room of Russell, Rollins & Co. Mr. Russell, a genial, gentle, 
 good old man, was at his desk, writing ; and Mr. Rollins sat at 
 his, poring over some long accounts. 
 
 " Mr. Russell and Mr. Rollins," I said very respectfully, " I 
 have come to bid you good-by. I am going to leave you." 
 
 " Thee going to leave ! " exclaimed Mr. Russell, faying 
 down his spectacles ; " what does thee mean, Edmund ? " 
 
 " I mean, 1 don't want to stay any longer, sir," I replied, 
 my voice trembling. 
 
 " But you must stay, Edmund," said Mr. Rollins, in his 
 harsh, imperative way. '' Your uncle indentured you to us till 
 you are twenty-one, and you can't go." 
 
 "I shall go, sir," I replied, with less respect than he de- 
 served. "My uncle indentured me to the old firm; I am not 
 bound to stay with the new." 
 
 Mr. Russell looked grieved, but in the same mild tone as 
 before, he said ; 
 
 " I am sorry, Edmund, very sorry, to hear thee say that. 
 Thee can go, if thee likes ; but it grieves me to have thee 
 quibble so. Thee will not prosper, my son, if thee follows this 
 course in life." 
 
 The moisture came into the old man's eyes as he spoke. 
 It filled mine, and rolled in large drops down my cheeks, as I 
 replied : 
 
THE DYING MOTHER. 25 
 
 " Forgive me, sir, for speaking so. I do not wish to do 
 wrong, but I cant stay with John Hallet." 
 
 " "Why can't thee stay with John ? " 
 
 " He don't like me, sir. We are not friends." 
 
 u Why are you not friends ? " 
 
 " Because I know him, sir." 
 
 " What do you know of him ? " asked Mr. Rollins, in the 
 same harsh, abrupt tone as before. I had never liked Mr. Rol- 
 lins, and his words just then stung me to the quick. I forgot 
 myself, for I replied : 
 
 " I know him to be a lying, hypocritical scoundrel, 
 sir." 
 
 Some two years before, Hallet had joined the church in 
 which Mr. Rollins was a deacon, and was universally regarded 
 as a pious, devout young man. The opinion I expressed was, 
 therefore, rank heterodoxy. To my surprise, Mr. Rollins 
 turned to Mr. Russell, and said : 
 
 " I believe the boy is right, Ephraim ; John professes too 
 much to be sincere ; I've told you so before." 
 
 " I can't think so, Thomas ; but it's too late to alter things 
 now. We shall see. Time will prove him." 
 
 I soon left, but not till they had shaken me warmly by the 
 hand, wished me well, and promised me their aid whenever I 
 required it. 
 
 When I had given her some of the cordial, and she had 
 rested awhile, the sick girl resumed her story. 
 
 In about a month, Hallet came. He pictured to her his 
 new position ; the wealth and standing it would give him, and 
 he said he was preparing a little home for her, and would soon 
 return and take her with him forever. 
 
20 MY SOUTHERN FEIEND8, 
 
 [He had then for more than a year been affianced to an- 
 other — a rich man's only child — a woman older than he, who 
 would have been most repulsive to him, had not money been 
 his god.] 
 
 It is needless to detail by what devilish fraud and artifice 
 this wretch at last achieved the poor girl's ruin. 
 
 About a month afterward, taking up a Boston paper, she 
 
 saw the marriage of Mr. John Hallet, merchant, to Miss 
 
 . " Some other person has his name," she thought. " It 
 
 cannot be he ; yet it is strange." It was strange, but it was 
 true, for there, in another column, she read that " Mr. John 
 Hallet, of the house of Russell, Rollins & Co., and his accom- 
 plished lady, were passengers by the steamer Cambria, which 
 sailed from this port yesterday for Liverpool." 
 
 The blow crushed her. But why need I tell of her grief, 
 her agony, her despair? For months she did not leave her 
 room ; and when at last she crawled out into the open air, the 
 nearest neighbors scarcely recognized her. 
 
 It was long, however, before she knew all the wrong that 
 Hallet had done her. Her aunt noticed her altered appear- 
 ance, and questioned her. She told her all. At first, the cold, 
 hard woman spoke harshly to her ; but, though cold and harsh, 
 she had a woman's heart, and she forgave her. She undertook 
 to tell the story to her brother. He had his sister's nature ; 
 was a strict, pious, devout man ; prayed every morning and 
 evening in his family, and, rain or shine, went every Sunday to 
 hear two dull, cast-iron sermons at the old meeting-house ; but 
 he had not her woman's heart. He stormed and raved for a 
 time, and then he cursed his only child, and drove her from his 
 house. The aunt had forty dollars — the proceeds of sock knit- 
 
THE DYING MOTHER. 27 
 
 ting and straw braiding, not yet invested in hymn books — and 
 with one sigh for the poor heathen, she gave it to her. "With 
 that, and a small satchel of clothes, and with two little hearts 
 beating under her bosom, the poor girl went out into the 
 world. Where could she go ? She knew not, but she wan- 
 dered on till she reached the village. The stage was standing 
 before the tavern door, and the driver was mounting the box 
 to start. She thought for a moment. She could not stay 
 there. It would anger her father if she did ; no one would 
 take her in ; and besides, she could not meet, in her misery 
 and her shame, those who had known her from childhood. 
 She spoke to the driver. He dismounted, opened the door, 
 and she took a seat in the coach, to go — she did not know 
 whither, she did not care where. 
 
 They rode all night, and in the morning stopped at Con- 
 cord. As she stepped from the stage, the red-faced landlord 
 asked her if she was going further. She said, M I do not 
 know, sir ; " but then a thought struck her. It was five 
 months since Hallet had started for Europe, and it might be 
 that he had returned. She would go to him. Though he 
 could not undo the wrong he had done, he still would aid and 
 pity her. She asked the route to Boston, and, after a light 
 meal, was on the way thither. 
 
 She arrived after dark, and was driven to the Marlboro 
 Hotel — that Eastern Eden for lone women and tobacco-eschew- 
 ing men — and there she passed the night. Though weak from 
 recent illness, and worn and wearied with the long journey, she 
 could not rest or sleep. The great sorrow that had fallen on 
 her had driven rest from her heart and quiet sleep from her 
 eyelids forever. In the morning she inquired the way to Rus- 
 
28 MY SOUTHERN FRIENDS. 
 
 sell, Rollins & Co.'s, and after a long search found the grim old 
 warehouse. She started to enter the counting room, but her 
 heart failed her. She turned away, and wandered off through 
 the narrow, crooked streets. She met a busy crowd hurrying 
 to and fro, but no one noticed or cared for her. She saw neat, 
 cheerful homes smiling around her, and she thought how every 
 one had shelter and friends but her. She looked up at the 
 cold, gray sky, and oh ! how she longed that it might fall 
 down and bury her forever. And still she wandered, till her 
 limbs grew weary and her heart grew faint. At last she sank 
 down exhausted, and wept — wept as only the lost and the 
 utterly forsaken can weep. Some little boys were playing 
 near, and after a time they left their sports, and came to her. 
 They spoke kindly to her, and it gave her strength. She 
 rose, and walked on again. A hack passed her, and she got 
 into it. After a long hour she stood once more before the 
 old warehouse. It was late in the afternoon, and she had 
 eaten nothing all day, and was very faint and tired ; but, sum- 
 moning all her strength, she at last opened the door of the old 
 counting room. 
 
 A tall, spare, pleasant-faced man was standing at the desk, 
 and she asked him if Mr. John Hallet was there. 
 
 " No, madam ; he's in Europe." 
 
 " When will he come back, sir ? " 
 
 " Not for a year ; " and the man raised his glasses and 
 looked at her. 
 
 Her last hope failed, and with a heavy, crushing pain in 
 her heart, and a dull, dizzy feeling in her head, she turned to 
 go. As she staggered away, a hand was placed gently on her 
 arm, and a mild voice said : 
 
THE DYING MOTHER. 29 
 
 " Thee is ill ; sit down." 
 
 She took the proffered seat, and an old gentleman came out 
 of the inner office. 
 
 " What ! what's this, David ? " he asked. " What ails the 
 young woman ? " 
 
 [She was then not quite seventeen.] 
 
 " She's ill, sir," said David. 
 
 " Only a little tired, sir. I shall be better soon." 
 
 " But thee is ill, my child ; thee looks so. Come here, 
 Kate ! " and the old gentleman raised his voice as if speaking 
 to some one in the inner room. The sick girl lifted her eyes, 
 and saw a blue-eyed, golden-haired young woman, not quite so 
 old as she was. 
 
 " She seems very sick, father. Please, David, get some 
 water ; " and the young lady undid the poor girl's bonnet, and 
 bathed her temples with the cool, grateful fluid. After a while 
 the old gentleman asked : 
 
 " What brought thee here, young woman ? " 
 
 " I came to see John — Mr. Hallet, I mean, sir." 
 
 u Thee knows John, then ? " 
 
 " Oh yes, sir." 
 
 " Where does thee live ? " 
 
 She was about to say that she had no home, but, checking 
 herself — for it would seem strange that a young girl who knew 
 John Hallet should be homeless — she answered : 
 
 " In New Hampshire. I live near old Mr. Halle t's, sir. I 
 came to see John, because I've known him ever since I was a 
 child." 
 
 She drank some water, and after a little time rose to leave. 
 As she turned toward the door, the thought of going, with her 
 
30 MY SOUTHERN FRIENDS. 
 
 great sorrow, out into the wide, desolate world, crossed her 
 mind, the heavy, crushing pain came again into her heart, the 
 dull, dizzy feeling into her head, the room reeled, and she fell 
 to the floor. 
 
 It was after dark when she came to herself. She was 
 lying on a bed in a large, splendidly furnished apartment, and 
 the same old gentleman and the same young girl were with 
 her. Another old gentleman was there, and as she opened her 
 eyes, he said : 
 
 " She will be better soon ; her nervous system has had a 
 severe shock ; the difficulty is there. If you could get her to 
 confide in you, 'twould relieve her ; it is hidden grief that kills 
 people. Come, my child, take this," and he held a fluid to her 
 lips. She drank it, and in a few moments sank into a deep 
 slumber. 
 
 It was late on the following morning when she awoke, and 
 found the young girl still at her bedside. 
 
 " You are better now. A few days of quiet rest will make 
 you well," said the young lady. 
 
 The kind, loving words, almost the first she ever heard 
 from woman, went to her heart, and she wept bitterly as she 
 replied : 
 
 " Oh ! no, there is no rest — no more rest for me ! " 
 
 " "Why so ? What is it that grieves you ? Tell me. It 
 will ease your pain to let me share it with you." 
 
 She told her, but she withheld his name. Once it rose to 
 her lips, but she thought how those good people would scorn 
 him, how Mr. Russell would cast him off, how his prospects 
 would be blasted, and she kept it back. 
 
 " And that is the reason you went to John ? You knew 
 
THE DYING MOTHER. 31 
 
 what a good, Christian man he is, and you thought he would 
 aid you ? " 
 
 " Yes I " said the sick girL 
 
 It was thus she recompensed him for robbing her of home, 
 of honor, and of peace I 
 
 Kate told her father the story, and the good old man gave 
 Fanny a room in one of his tenement houses, and there, a few 
 months later, she gave birth to a little boy and girl. She was 
 very sick, but Kate provided for her wants, procured a nurse, 
 and a physician, and gave her what she needed more than all 
 else — kindness and sympathy. 
 
 Previous to her sickness she had. supported herself by her 
 needle, and when she was sufficiently recovered, again had 
 recourse to it. Her earnings were scanty, for she was not 
 strong, but they were eked out by an occasional remittance 
 from her aunt. This good lady still adhered to her sock-knit- 
 ting, straw-braiding habits, but, to her praise be it spoken, had 
 turned her back resolutely on her benighted brethren and sis- 
 ters of the Feejee Islands. 
 
 Thus nearly a year wore away, when her little girl sick- 
 ened and died. She felt a mother's pang at first, but she shed 
 no tears, for she knew it was " well with the child ; " that it 
 had gone where it would never know a fate like hers. 
 
 The watching with it, added to her other labors, under- 
 mined her health. The remittance from her aunt did not come 
 as usual, and though she paid no rent, she soon found herself 
 unable to earn a support. The Russells had been so good, so 
 kind, had done so much for her, that she could not ask them 
 for more. What, then, should she do ? One day, while she 
 was in this strait, Kate came to see her, and casually mentioned 
 
32 MY SOUTHERN FRIENDS. 
 
 that John Hallet had returned. She struggled with her pride 
 for a time, but at last made up her mind to apply to him. She 
 wrote to him ; told him of her struggles, of her illness, of her 
 many sufferings, of her little boy — his image, his child — then 
 playing at her feet, and she besought him, by the love he bore 
 her in their childhood, not to let his once affianced wife, and 
 his poor, innocent child, starve ! 
 
 Long weeks went by, but no answer came ; and again she 
 wrote him. 
 
 One day, not long after sending this last letter, as she was 
 crossing the Common to her attic in Charles street, she met 
 him. He was alone, and saw her, but attempted to pass her 
 without recognition. She stood squarely in his way, and told 
 him she would be heard. He admitted having received her 
 letters, but said he could do nothing for her ; that the brat was 
 not his ; that she must not attempt to fasten on him the fruit 
 of her debaucheries ; that no one would believe her if she did ; 
 and he added, as he turned away, that he was a married man, and 
 a Christian, and could not be seen talking with a lewd woman. 
 
 She was stunned. She sank down on one of the benches 
 near, and tried to weep ; but the tears would not come. For 
 the first time since he had so deeply wronged her, she felt a 
 bitter feeling rising in her heart. She rose, and turned her 
 steps up Beacon Hill toward Mr. Russell's, fully determined to 
 tell Kate all. She was admitted, and shown to Miss Russell's 
 room. She told Kate how she had met her seducer, and how 
 he had cast her off. 
 
 "Who is he?" asked Kate. "Tell me, and father will 
 publish him from one end of the universe to the other ! He 
 does not deserve to live." 
 
THE DYING MOTHER. 33 
 
 His name trembled on her tongue. A moment more, and 
 John Hallet had been a ruined man, branded with a mark that 
 would have followed him through the world. But she paused; 
 the vision of his wife, of the innocent child just born to 
 him, rose before her, and the words melted away from her lips 
 unspoken. 
 
 Kate spoke kindly and encouragingly to her, but she heed- 
 ed her not. One only thought had possession of her : how could 
 she throw off the mighty load that was pressing on her soul ? 
 
 After a time, she rose and left the house. As she walked 
 down Beacon street, the sun was sinking in the west, and its 
 red glow mounted midway up the heavens. As she looked at 
 it, the sky seemed one great molten sea, its hot, lurid waves 
 surging all around her. She thought it came nearer ; that it 
 set on fire the green Common and the great houses, and shot 
 fierce, hot flames through her brain and into her very soul. 
 For a moment she was paralyzed, and sank to the ground ; 
 then, springing to her feet, she flew to her child. She bounded 
 down the long hill, and up the steep stairways, and burst into 
 the room of the good woman who was tending him, shouting : 
 
 11 Fire ! fire ! The world is on fire ! Run ! run ! the 
 world is on fire I " 
 
 She caught him up, and darted away. She flew down 
 Charles street, across the Common, and through the crowded 
 thoroughfares, till she reached India "Wharf, all the while mut- 
 tering, " Water, water ! " — water, to quench the fire in her 
 blood, in her brain, in her very soul. 
 
 She paused on the pier, and gazed for a moment at the 
 dark, slimy flood ; then she plunged down, down, where all is 
 forgetfulness ! 
 
 2* 
 
34 MY SOUTIIEKN FRIENDS. 
 
 She had a dim recollection of a storm at sea ; of a vessel 
 thrown violently on its beam ends ; of a great tumult, and of 
 voices louder than she ever heard before — voices that rose 
 above the howling of the tempest and the surging of the great 
 waves — calling out : " All hands to clear away the foremast ! " 
 But she knew nothing certain. All was chaos. 
 
 The next thing she remembered, was waking one morning 
 in a room about twelve feet square, with a small grated open- 
 ing in the door. The sun had just risen, and she was lying on 
 a low, narrow bed, whose clothing was spotlessly white and 
 clean. Her little boy was sleeping by her side. His cheeks 
 had a rosier, healthier hue than they ever wore before ; and as 
 she turned down the coverlet, she saw he had grown wonderfully. 
 She could hardly credit her senses. Could that be her child ? 
 
 She spoke to him. He opened his eyes, and smiled, and 
 put his little mouth up to hers, saying, " Kiss, mamma ; kiss 
 Fanky." She took him in her arms, and covered him with 
 kisses. Then she rose to dress herself. A strange but neat 
 and tidy gown was on the chair, and she put it on ; it fitted 
 exactly. Franky rolled over to the front of the bed, and put- 
 ting first one little foot out, and then the other, let himself 
 down to the floor. " Can it be ? " she thought ; " can he both 
 walk and talk ? " Soon she heard the bolt turning in the door. 
 It opened, and a pleasant, elderly woman, with a large bundle 
 of keys at her girdle, entered the room. 
 
 "And how do you do this morning, my daughter?" she 
 asked. 
 
 " Very well, ma'am. Where ami?" 
 
 " You ask where ? Then you are well. You haven't been, 
 for a long, long "uae, my child." 
 
THE DYING MOTHER 35 
 
 "And where am I, ma'am ? " 
 
 " Why, you are here — at Bloomingdale." 
 
 " How long have I been here ? " 
 
 " Let me see ; it must be near fifteen months, now." 
 
 "And who brought me here ? " 
 
 "A captain of a vessel. He was just hauling out of the 
 dock at Boston, when you jumped into the water with Franky. 
 One of his men sprang overboard, and saved you. The vessel 
 couldn't put back, so he brought you here." 
 
 " Merciful heaven ! did I do that ? " 
 
 " Yes. You must have been sorely troubled, my child. 
 But never mind ; it is all over now. But hasn't Franky 
 grown? Isn't he a handsome boy? Come hereto grandma, 
 my baby." The good woman sat down on a chair, and the 
 little fellow ran to her, put his small arms about her neck, and 
 kissed her over and over again. Children are intuitive judges 
 of character ; no really bad man or woman ever had the love 
 of a child. 
 
 " Yes, he has grown. You call him Franky, do you ? " 
 
 " Yes ; we didn't know his name. What had you named 
 him?" 
 
 " John Hallet." 
 
 As she spoke those words a sharp pang shot through her 
 heart. It was well that her child had another name. 
 
 She was soon sufficiently recovered to leave the asylum. 
 By the kind offices of the matron, she obtained employment in 
 a cap factory, and a plain but comfortable boarding place in the 
 lower part of the city. She worked at the shop, and left 
 Franky during the day with her landlady, a kind-hearted but 
 poor woman. Her earnings were but three dollars a week, 
 
36 MY SOUTHERN FRIENDS. 
 
 and their board was two and a quarter ; but on the balance she 
 contrived to provide herself and her child with clothes. The 
 only luxury she indulged in was an occasional walk on Sunday 
 to Bloomingdale, to see her friend, the good matron. 
 
 Thus things went on for two years ; and if not happy, she 
 was at least comfortable. Her father never relented ; but her 
 aunt wrote her often, and there was comfort in the thought 
 that at least one of her early friends had not cast her off. 
 That good lady, too, sent her now and then small remittances, 
 but they came few and far between ; for as the pious woman 
 grew older, her heart gradually returned to its first love — the 
 poor heathen. 
 
 Before leaving the asylum, she wrote to Kate Russell. 
 She told her of all that had happened as far as she knew, and 
 thanked her for all her goodness and kindness to her. She 
 waited some weeks, but no answer came ; and then she wrote 
 again. Still no answer came, though that time she waited two 
 or three months. Fearing that something had befallen Kate, 
 she then mustered courage to write Mr. Russell. Still she got 
 no reply, and she reluctantly concluded — though she had not 
 asked them for aid — that they had ceased to feel interested in 
 her. 
 
 "They had not, madam," I exclaimed. "Kate has often 
 spoken most kindly of you. She wanted to come here to- 
 day ; but I did not know this, and I was unwilling to bring 
 her." 
 
 She looked at me with a strange surprise. Her eyes 
 lighted, and her face beamed, as she said : " And you know 
 her, too ! " 
 
 " Know her ? She will soon be my wife." 
 
THE DYING MOTHER. 37 
 
 " And you will tell her how much I love Iter — how grate- 
 ful I am to her ? " 
 
 "I will," I replied. I did not say, as I might have said, 
 that Hallet had access to Mr. Russell's mails, at the time she 
 wrote, and, knowing her handwriting, he had undoubtedly 
 intercepted her letters. 
 
 After a long pause, she resumed her story. 
 
 At the end of those two years, a financial panic swept over 
 the country, prostrating the great houses, and sending want 
 and suffering into the attics — not homes, for they have none — 
 of the poor sewing women. The firm that employed her 
 failed, and Fanny was thrown out of work. She went to her 
 friend the matron, and she interested some "benevolent" ladies 
 in her behalf, who gave her shirts to make at twenty-five cents 
 apiece ! She could hardly do enough to pay her board ; but 
 she could work at home with Franky, and that was a comfort, 
 for he was growing to be a bright, affectionate boy. 
 
 About this time, her aunt and the good matron died. She 
 mourned for them sincerely, for they were all the friends she 
 had. 
 
 The severe times affected her landlady. Being unable to 
 pay her rent, she was sold out by the sheriff, and Fanny had to 
 seek other lodgings. She then took a little room, and lived by 
 herself. 
 
 The death of the matron was a great calamity, for her 
 "benevolent" friends lost interest in her, and soon took from 
 her the poor privilege of making shirts at twenty-five cents 
 apiece ! When this befell her, she had but four dollars and 
 twenty cents in the world. This she made furnish food to her- 
 self and her child for four long weeks, while she vainly sought 
 
38 MY SOUTHERN FItlENDS. 
 
 for work. She offered to do anything — to sew, scrub, cook, 
 wash — anything ; but no ! there was nothing for her — 
 nothing ! She must drain the cup to the very dregs, that the 
 vengeance of God — and He would not be just if He did not 
 take terrible vengeance on crime like his — might sink John 
 Hallet to the lowest hell ! 
 
 For four days she had not tasted food. Her child was sick. 
 She had begged a few crumbs for him, but even he had eaten 
 nothing all day. Then the tempter came, and — why need I 
 say k ? — she sinned. 
 
 Some months after that, she noticed in the evening paper, 
 among the arrivals at the Astor House, the name of John 
 Hallet. That night she went to him. She was shown to his 
 room, and, rapping at the door, was asked to " walk in." She 
 stepped inside, and stood before him. He sprang from his 
 seat, and told her to leave him. She begged him to hear her 
 — for only one moment to hear her. He stamped on the floor 
 in rage, and told her to go I She did not go, for she showed 
 him the pit of infamy into which she had fallen, and prayed 
 him, as he hoped for heaven, as he loved his own child, to save 
 her ! Then, with terrible curses, he opened the door, laid his 
 hands upon her, and — thrust her from the room ! 
 
 "Why should I tell how, step by step, she went down ; 
 how want came upon her ; how disease fastened its fangs 
 on her vitals ; how Death walked with her up and down 
 Broadway in the gaslight ; how, in her very hours of shame, 
 there came to her visions of th& innocent past — thoughts of 
 what she might have been, and of what she was ? 
 
 As she finished the tale, I rose from my seat, and while 
 tears filled my eyes, said : " Rest easy, my poor girl ! As 
 
THE DYING MOTHER. 39 
 
 jure as God lives, you shall be avenged. John Hallet shall 
 feel the misery he has brought upon you. I wifl pull him 
 down — down so low, that the very beggars shall hoot at him 
 in the streets ! " 
 
 " Oh ! no ; do not harm him ! Leave him to God. He 
 may yet repent 1 " 
 
 The long exertion had exhausted her, and she seemed to be 
 sinking rapidly. I felt of her pulse — it scarcely beat ; I passed 
 my hand up her arm — it was icy cold to the elbow I She was 
 indeed dying. Giving her some of the cordial, I called her 
 little boy. 
 
 When we entered, she took each of us by the hand, and 
 said to Franky : M My child — your mother is going away — 
 from you. Be a good boy — love this gentleman — he will take 
 care of you ! " Then to me she said : " Be kind to him, sir. 
 He is — a good child I " 
 
 " Have comfort, madam ; he shall be my son. Kate will 
 be a mother to him ! " 
 
 " Bless you ! bless her ! A mother's blessing will be on 
 you ! The blessing of God — will be on you ; — and if the dead 
 can come back — to comfort those they love — I will come back 
 — and comfort you ! " 
 
 I do not know — I cannot know, till the veil which hides 
 her world from ours is lifted from my eyes ; but there have been 
 times — many times — when Kate and I have thought she was 
 keeping her word I 
 
 For a half hour she lay without speaking, still holding our 
 hands in hers. Then, in a low tone — so low that I had to bend 
 down to hear — she said : 
 
 " Oh ! is it not beautiful ! Don't you hear ? And look ! 
 
40 MY SOUTHERN FEIENDS. 
 
 oli, look ! And my mother, too ! Oh ! it is too bright for 
 such as I ! " 
 
 The heavenly gates had opened to her ! She had caught a 
 vision of the better land.! 
 
 In a moment she said : 
 
 11 Farewell, my friend — my child — I will " Then a 
 
 low sound rattled in her throat, and she passed away, just as 
 the last rays of the winter sun streamed through the low win- 
 dow. One of its bright beams rested on her face, and lingered 
 there till we laid her away forever. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 A STAGE-COACH ADVENTURE. 
 
 It was five years after the events recorded in the previous 
 chapter, when, one day late in October, I started on my annual 
 tour among the Southern correspondents of the mercantile 
 house of which I was then a member. Arriving at Richmond 
 shortly after noon, I took a hasty meal at the wretched restau- 
 rant near the railway station, and seating myself in one of the 
 rickety cars, proceeded on my journey. As the train moved 
 off from the depot, a hand was placed on my arm, and a 
 familiar voice said : 
 
 " Lord bless me ! Kirke, is this you ? " 
 
 Looking up, I saw Mr. Robert Preston — or, as he was 
 known among his acquaintance, " Squire Preston of Jones " — 
 a gentleman whose Northern business I had transacted for sev- 
 eral years. He had been on a visit to some Virginia relatives, 
 and was returning to his plantation on the Trent, about twenty 
 miles from Newbern. Though I had never been at his home, 
 he had often visited mine, and we were well — in fact, inti- 
 mately acquainted. I soon explained that I was on the way 
 to New Orleans, and mentioned that I might, on my return, 
 seek the route to his plantation. He urged me to visit it at 
 
42 MY SOUTHERN FRIENDS. 
 
 once, and I finally consented to do so. "We rode on by the 
 cars as far as Goldsboro, and there, after a few hours' rest, and 
 a light breakfast of corn-cake, hominy, and bacon, took seats 
 on the stage, which then was the only public conveyance to 
 Newbern. 
 
 Preston was an intelligent, cultivated gentleman, and, at 
 that time, appeared to be about thirty -three years of age. He 
 was tall, athletic, and of decidedly prepossessing appearance ; 
 and, though somewhat careless in his dress, had a simple dig- 
 nity about him that is not furnished by the tailor. The firm 
 lines about his mouth, his strong jaw, wide nostrils, and large 
 nose — straight as if cut after a bevel — indicated a resolute, de- 
 termined character ; but his large, dreamy eyes — placed far 
 apart, as if to give fit proportion to his broad, overhanging 
 brows — showed that his nature was as gentle and tender as a 
 woman's. He spoke with the broad Southern accent, and his 
 utterance was usually slow and hesitating, and his manner quiet 
 and deliberate ; but I had seen him when his words came like 
 a torrent of hot lava, when his eyes flashed fire, his thin nos- 
 trils opened and shut, and his whole frame seemed infused with 
 the power and energy of the steam engine. 
 
 Educated for the ministry, he had been in early life a popu- 
 lar preacher in the Baptist denomination, but at the date of 
 which I am writing, he was devoting himself to the care of his 
 plantation, and preached only now and then, when away from 
 home, or when the little church at Trenton was without a pas- 
 tor. Altogether he was a man to be remarked upon. A 
 stranger casually meeting him, would turn back, and involun- 
 tarily ask : " Who is he ? " 
 
 Only five of the nine seats inside the stage were occupied, 
 
A STAGE-COACH ADVENTURE. 43 
 
 * 
 
 but as the day, though cold, was clear and pleasant, we mount- 
 ed the box, and took the vacant places beside the driver. 
 That worthy was a rough, surly character, with a talent for 
 profanity truly wonderful. His horses were lean, half-starved 
 quadrupeds, with ribs protruding from their sides like hoops 
 from a whiskey barrel, and he accounted for their condition, 
 and for the scarcity of fences on the highroad, by saying that 
 the stage owners fed them on rails ; but I suspected that the 
 constant curses he discharged at their heads, had worried the 
 flesh off their bones, and induced the fences to move to a less 
 dangerous latitude. 
 
 On the top of the coach, coiled away on a pile of horse 
 blankets, was a woman whose dress and appearance designated 
 her as one of the species of "white trash" known in North 
 Carolina as " clay-eaters." She was about thirty years of age, 
 and, if her skin had been bleached, and her teeth introduced to 
 a scrubbing brush, might have passed for being tolerably good- 
 looking. After a number of preliminary cracks of the whip, 
 and sundry oaths and loud shouts administered to the " lead- 
 ers," the driver got under way, and we were soon jolting — at a 
 speed of about four miles an hour — over the " slews" and ruts 
 made by the recent rains. Shortly after we started, the woman 
 said to me : 
 
 " I say, stranger, ye han't no 'backer 'bout ye, hev ye ? " 
 
 I was about to say I had none, when Preston handed her a 
 paper of '' Richmond Sweet." "Without pausing to thank him, 
 she coolly stuffed nearly a half of it into her mouth. My com- 
 panion did not seem at all surprised, but I remarked : 
 
 II You do not smoke, then, madam ? " 
 
 " Oh ! yas, I smokes ; but I durned sight d'ruther chaw." 
 
44 MY SOUTHERN FRIENDS. 
 
 " Let me give you a cigar," I said, taking one from tnf 
 pocket, and winking at Preston. 
 
 " I never smokes them sort o' things ; I takes nat'rally ter 
 pipes — did when I'se a gal," she replied, ejecting a mouthful 
 of saliva of the color of her skin. 
 
 "This gentleman," said the Squire, smiling, "isn't fully up 
 to our ways. He thinks it queer that women chew tobacco." 
 
 " Quar thet wimmin chaws ! Han't the' as much right ter 
 as ye ? / reckon what's good fur th' gander '11 do fur th' 
 goose ! " 
 
 " Good logic, that," said Preston, laughing. 
 
 The woman kept on expectorating for a time, when she 
 again spoke to my companion : 
 
 " I say 1 ye b'long ter Newbern, doan't ye ? " 
 
 " No, not now ; but I live near there." 
 
 " Ye doan't know a feller down thar called Mulock, I 
 doan't s'pose — Bony Mulock ? " 
 
 " Yes, I do ; I know him well." 
 
 " So does I. I'm gwine ter see 'im." 
 
 " Where were you acquainted ? " 
 
 " Up ter Harnett — I b'long thar — nigh on ter Chalk Level. 
 He war raised thar." 
 
 " Yes, I know ; but he left there long ago." 
 
 " Nigh on ter nine year. I'm his wife." 
 
 u You his wife ! " exclaimed the Squire, turning round and 
 looking at her. 
 
 11 Yas. He put eout nine year ago, and I han't heerd nor 
 seed nary thing on him sence, till a spell back. But I'll stick 
 ter 'im this time, like a possum ter a rail. He woan't put eout 
 no more, ye kin bet high on thet ! " 
 
A STAGE-COACH ADVENTURE. 45 
 
 " But he has another wife now ! " 
 
 " "Wall, I thort he moight hev ; but she'll put kind o' sud- 
 den, I reckon. What is she — white or nigger ? " 
 
 " She's a likely quadroon girl. She's almost made a man 
 of him." 
 
 " Hi Lordy I then she's right smart. I'm gol-durned ef / 
 could ! " 
 
 " If you have so poor an opinion of him, why do you fol- 
 low him ? " 
 
 " "Wall, I goes for a 'ooman's hevin' har own. When he 
 put eout, I swore ter gol I'd foller 'im as soon as I got on his 
 trail, ef I hed ter go to h— 11 fur it ! " 
 
 The low vulgarity of the woman disgusted me, and it 
 seemed to have the same effect on the Squire, for he turned his 
 back to her when she made the last remark. Not appearing 
 to notice his manner, she said, after a moment : 
 
 " I say, Gin'ral ! what 'bout thet stealin' bisness ? " 
 
 " Bony was taken up a while back, for buying turpentine 
 of the negroes. I reckon he's in jail yet." 
 
 " Yas, I heerd uv thet — thet's how I treed 'im. Cunnel 
 Lamsin — nigh on ter me — he seed it in the paper. I know'd 
 'im by th' Bonaparty. When'll he be mauled ? " 
 
 " Very soon, I reckon. He was sentenced to fifty lashes a 
 week ago." 
 
 " It'll do 'im good ; I'd given 'im more'n thet. He war 
 allers up ter dealin' with nigs." 
 
 The road, when we started, was in very bad condition, and 
 as we proceeded it grew gradually worse, till, in the vicinity 
 of the runs where we then were, it had become almost impass- 
 able. We frequently turned off into the woods and open fields 
 
46 MY SOUTHERN FRIEXDS. 
 
 to avoid the "worst places, but even there the jolting of the 
 coach was so violent that I momentarily expected our "lady" 
 passenger would roll off into the mud. Seeing that she was in 
 absolute danger, and being also willing to dispense with her 
 refined society, I finally said : 
 
 " "Would you not prefer an inside seat ? " 
 
 " Yas, I would ; but I han't th' money fur't. The' axed so 
 like durnation fur totem' me in thar, I couldn't stan' it, nohow." 
 
 " What fare did she pay, driver ? " I asked of the Jehu. 
 
 «• Half price." 
 
 "That's enough for seventy miles over a road like this. 
 Let her get inside." 
 
 " Karn't, stranger ; 'tan't 'lowed ; (d'rot yer dirty hide — 
 you, Jake — g'up !) the old man would raise 'tic'lar (wha 'bout 
 — g'lang, ye lazy critter) music ef I done thet." 
 
 " How much more do you want ? " I inquired. 
 
 11 The whole figur (g'up thar, g'lang, ye durnation brute) ; 
 nary a red less." 
 
 " I will see that Dibble finds no fault, and you shall l mois- 
 ten up' at the doctor's," said Preston. 
 
 " Wall, Squire (d — n yer rotten pictur), ef ye says thet, 
 (whoa — whoa, thar, ye all-fired rackabones — whoa !) it's a 
 trade." 
 
 The stage halted, and the woman got inside. 
 
 We arrived at Kinston about an hour after noon, and after 
 a meagre meal at " the doctor's " (that gentleman eked out a 
 dull practice among his neighbors by a sharp practice on his 
 guests), again mounted the stage. We had proceeded to 
 within eighteen miles of Newbern, when suddenly, as the 
 Squire and I were lighting our second after-dinner segars, 
 
A STAGE-COACH ADVENTURE. 47 
 
 "ker-chunk" went one of the forward wheels, and overwent 
 the coach in a twinkling. I saved myself by clinging to the 
 seat, but Preston was not so fortunate. The first I saw of 
 him he was immersed in a pool of water some ten feet distant. 
 Luckily the ground was soft, and he escaped personal injury ; 
 but when he rose to his feet, his coat, like Joseph's, was of 
 many colors, a dull clayey-red predominating. 
 
 It was fortunate for the clay-eating feminine that her con- 
 versation had disgusted us. Had she remained outside, she 
 might have sighed for her " Bonaparty " in the torrid region of 
 which she had spoken. 
 
 The other passengers escaped with a few bruises, and after 
 an hour's exercise with rails and saplings, we succeeded in pry- 
 ing the wheels out of the mire. Then the driver discovered 
 that one of the horses had lost its shoes, and insisted on hav- 
 ing them replaced before proceeding. We were midway be- 
 tween two " relay houses," and the Jehu decided on taking the 
 shoeless horse back to the station we had passed. As he was 
 unharnessing the animal, I said to him : 
 
 " You say there is a blacksmith at each station — why not 
 go to the one ahead ? It will save time." 
 
 " The boy at Tom's store's run off. Thar an't nary a nig 
 thar to hold the critter's huff." 
 
 " Cannot the blacksmith do that himself? I never heard 
 of its taking two men to shoe one horse ! " 
 
 11 Wall, it do, stranger. I reckon ye never done thet sort 
 o' bisness." 
 
 " But can't you do it ? " 
 
 U I do it ! My bisness ar drivin' hosses, not shoein' on 'em. 
 When I takes ter thet I'll let ye know ! " 
 
48 MY SOUTHERN FRIENDS. 
 
 He had by that time taken off the harness, and was pre- 
 paring to mount the animal. 
 
 " Come, come, my good fellow, do not go back for that. 
 Go on, and Fll hold the horse's feet." 
 
 " Ye hold 'em ! I reckon ye wull ! I'd like ter see a man 
 uv yer cloth a-holdin' a critter's fut ! Ha ! ha ! " Then 
 throwing his leg over the horse's bare back, he added : " "We 
 doan't come it over trav'lers thet way, in this deestrict — we 
 doan't. AVe use 'em like folks — we do. Ye can bet yer pile 
 on thet ! " 
 
 Preston, who had been quietly enjoying the dialogue, as 
 the driver rode away, said to me : 
 
 " I knew you wouldn't make anything out of him. Come, 
 let us walk on ; a little exercise, after our warm work, will do 
 us good." 
 
 Leaving the other passengers to await the motions of the 
 driver, the blacksmith, and the black " huff "-holder, we trudged 
 on through the mud, and in about two hours reached the next 
 station. 
 
 The reader will find the spot which bears the dignified cog- 
 nomen of " Tom's Store," if he looks on the map of North 
 Carolina. It is there destitute of a name, but is plainly desig- 
 nated by the circular character which is applied by geographers 
 to villages. It is situated on a small tributary of the Neuse, 
 and consists of a one-story building about twenty feet wide, and 
 forty feet long, divided into two apartments, and built of pine 
 slabs. One half of it, at the date of my visit, was sparsely 
 occupied with drygoods, groceries, fishhooks, log chains, goose 
 yokes, tin pans, cut nails, and Jews' harps, while the other was 
 densely crowded with logwood, "dog-leg," strychnine, juniper 
 
A STAGE-COACH ADVENTURE. 49 
 
 berries, New England rum, and cistern water, all mixed to- 
 gether. The latter region was the more populous neighbor- 
 hood, and was absolutely packed with thirsty natives, imbibing 
 certain fluids known at the South as "blue ruin," "bust-head," 
 "red-eye," "tangle-foot," "rifle-whiskey," and "devil's dye," 
 at the rate of a "bit" a glass, and of four " bits" for " as much 
 as a man could tote." 
 
 I was introduced by the Squire to Tom himself, the illus- 
 trious founder of the village. He was a stout, bloated speci- 
 men of humanity, with a red, pimpled face, a long grizzly 
 beard, small inflamed eyes, and a nose that might have been 
 mistaken for a peeled beet. His whole appearance showed 
 that he was an lidbitut of the more fashionable quarter of his 
 village (the groggery), and a liberal imbiber of his own com- 
 pounds. He informed me that he did a "right smart" busi- 
 ness; bought dry goods in "York," "sperrets" in 'Hio, and 
 rum in Bostin' ; and he added : " Stranger, I never keeps none 
 but th' clar juice, th' raal, genuwine critter, d — d ef I do. 
 Come, take a drink." 
 
 I declined, when a bystander, who seemed to know — he 
 could scarcely keep his feet,r — overhearing the remark, con- 
 firmed it, by saying with a big oath : 
 
 " It's so, stranger ; Tom do keep th' reg'lar critter, th' clar 
 juice ! Thar's no mistake 'bout thet, fur it gits tight itself 
 every cold snap ! " 
 
 "When we arrived, about a hundred men, women, and chil- 
 dren were assembled on the cleared plot in front of the store, 
 witnessing a " turkey match." Wishing to avoid the noisy 
 crowd, and being fatigued with our long tramp over the muddy 
 road, my companion and I entered the mere reputable portion 
 
50 MY SOUTHERN FRIENDS. 
 
 of the store in quest of a seat. It was nearly deserted. A 
 l.izy yellow boy was stretched at full length on the pine coun- 
 ter which kept customers at an honest distance from the rows 
 of half-filled shelves occupying three sides of the room, and on 
 a low bench in front of him sat a woman and two children. 
 These four were the only persons in the apartment. The 
 woman seemed to be not more than twenty-five, and was 
 dressed in a neat calico gown, and had a tidy appearance. 
 She wore a thin woollen shawl, a clean red and yellow turban, 
 white cotton stockings, and coarse untanned shoes. These last 
 were nearly new, and very clumsy, and, like the rest of her 
 costume, were travel-stained and bespattered with mud. She 
 had evidently walked a long distance that morning. 
 „ Her figure was slight and graceful, and her face very beau- 
 tiful. She had long, black, glossy hair, straight, regular fea- 
 tures, a rich olive complexion, and large, lustrous eyes, which, 
 as she sat opposite the open door, were fixed on the thick, 
 gloomy woods, with an earnest, almost agonized gaze, as if she 
 were reading in its tangled depths the dark, uncertain future 
 that lay before her. Never shall I forget the expression of her 
 face. Never have I seen its look of keen, intense agony, and 
 its full, perfect, utter despair. One of the children was a little 
 girl of eight years, with a sweet, hopeful expression, a clear 
 rosy skin, and brown, wavy hair ; and the other, a little mu- 
 latto boy, a few years older. They each held one of the 
 woman's hands, and something peculiar in their attitudes made 
 me look closely at them. A thin piece of iron, called by slave 
 traders a M bracelet," encircled their wrists, and fastened their 
 arms to the woman's ! They were slaves ! 
 
 I entered the cabin a few steps in advance of Preston, who 
 
A STAGE-COACH ADVENTURE. 51 
 
 paused in the doorway as he caught sight of the group. The 
 woman did not notice him, but his face turned to a marble 
 white, and his voice trembled with emotion, as he exclaimed : 
 
 " My God ! Phyllis, is this you ? " 
 
 The woman sprang to her feet, took one step forward, and 
 sank to the floor. Stretching out her shackled arms, bound to 
 the children as they were, she clasped his knees, and cried out : 
 
 " Oh Master Robert ! dear Master Robert, save me ! Oh ! 
 save me ; for the love of the dear children, save me ! " 
 
 The little boy and girl caught hold of his skirts, and both, 
 crying hard, turned their faces up to his. The younger said : 
 
 " Oh ! do, massa ! take us 'way from dis man ; he bery 
 bad, massa. He whip you' little Rosey 'case she couldn't walk 
 all de way — all de way yere, massa ! " 
 
 The water gathered in Preston's eyes, as he asked : 
 
 " Why did they sell you, Phyllis ? Why didn't I know 
 of it?" 
 
 " Missus went to you, Master Robert, but you warn't to 
 home. Master had to have the money right off. The trader 
 was thar. Master couldn't wait till you come back. Oh ! 
 save me, Master Robert ! He's takin' me to Orleans, to Or- 
 leans ! Do save me ! Think of the children, Master Robert. 
 Oh ! think of the chirren ! " and she loosened her hold of his 
 limbs, and wept as if her very heart was breaking. 
 
 Preston's words came thick and broken, his frame shook, 
 he almost groaned, as he said : 
 
 M I would to God that I could, Phvllis ; but I am in debt — 
 pressed on every side. I could not raise the money to save 
 my soul ! " 
 
 " Oh my God ! what will become of as ? "' exclaimed the 
 
52 MY SOUTHERN FRIENDS. 
 
 woman. " Think of little Lule, Master Robert ! They've 
 taken me 'way from her ! Oh ! what will become of us, Mas- 
 ter Robert ? what will become of us ? " 
 
 Preston stood like a man on whom the sentence of death 
 had fallen. A cold, glassy look came into his eyes, a thick, 
 heavy sweat started from his forehead ; his iron limbs seemed 
 giving way under him. Placing my hand on his shoulder, I 
 asked : 
 
 " How much is needed, my friend ? " 
 
 " I don't know," lie replied, pressing his hands to his head 
 as if to keep it from bursting. " How much, Phylly ? " 
 
 " Twelve hundred, Master Robert — they sold us for twelve 
 hundred." 
 
 11 Well, well, my good woman, don't feel badly. I'll let 
 Master Robert have the money." 
 
 The woman stared at me incredulously for a moment ; 
 then, while the children came and clung to me as if I were an 
 old friend, she said : 
 
 " Oh ! bless you, sir ! bless you ! I will love you, sir ! 
 The children will forever love you for it." 
 
 A struggle seemed to be going on in Preston's mind. He 
 was silent for some moments ; then, in a slow, undecided voice, 
 he said : 
 
 " It would not be right ; I can't take it, Kirke. I owe you 
 now. I'm in debt elsewhere. A judgment has been got 
 against me. My crops have turned out poorly. I've been to 
 Virginia for money, and can't get a dollar. It would not be 
 honest. I can't take it." 
 
 No words can picture the look on the woman's face, as she 
 cried : 
 
A STAGE-COACH ADVENTURE. 53 
 
 " Oh ! do take it, Master Robert ! Do take it. I'll work. 
 I'll make it. I can make it very soon, Master Robert. Oh \ 
 do take it ! " 
 
 " How much is the judgment ? " I asked. 
 
 " Only six hundred ; but old has it, and he has no 
 
 mercy. He'll have the money at once, or sell everything — the 
 negroes — everything ! " and he choked down the heavy groan 
 which half escaped his lips. 
 
 11 Have you no produce at home ? " 
 
 " About a thousand barrels of rosin. But the river is low ; 
 I can't get it down." 
 
 " Well, that's worth five hundred dollars where it is. Any 
 cotton ? " 
 
 " Only eleven bales — low middling." 
 
 " That's three hundred more. Consider it ours, and draw 
 at ninety days for the whole, judgment and all." 
 
 The woman had risen during this conversation, and stood 
 with her eyes riveted on our faces, as if her eternal destiny 
 hung on our words. "When I made the last remark, she stag- 
 gered toward me and fell, as if dead, at my feet. I brought 
 water from the stream hard by, and we soon restored her to 
 herself. Preston then lifted her from the floor, and placing 
 her tenderly on the bench, said, turning to me : 
 
 " You cannot understand how much you have done for me. 
 Words are weak — they cannot tell you. I will pay you out of 
 the next crop. Meanwhile I will re-draw, and keep it afloat." 
 
 " Do as you like about that. Where is your owner, 
 
 Phyllis ? " 
 
 " Outside, dear master. You'll know him. He's more of 
 us pore creatures with him." 
 
54 MY SOUTHERN FRIENDS. 
 
 u Come, Preston, let's see him at once ; we've no time to 
 lose. The stage will be along soon." 
 
 " I've no heart for trading now. You manage it, my 
 
 friend." 
 
 " Well, as you say ; but you'd better be with me. Come." 
 
 " I will, in a moment." 
 
 He lingered behind, and, when I left the cabin, was speak- 
 ing in a low tone to the slave woman. Thinking he would fol- 
 low in a moment, I went in quest of the trader. 
 
CHAPTER IT. 
 
 THE NEGRO TRADER. 
 
 On the cleared plot in front of the store were assembled, as 
 I have said, about a hundred men, women, and children, wit- 
 nessing a " turkey match." It was a motley gathering. All 
 classes and colors and ages were there. The young gentleman 
 who boasted his hundred darkies, and the small planter who 
 worked in the field with his five negroes; the "poor trash" 
 who scratched a bare subsistence from a sorry patch of beans 
 and " collards," and the swearing, staggering bully, who did 
 not condescend to do anything ; the brawny field hand who 
 had toiled over night to finish his task in time for " de 
 shootin'," and the well-dressed body servant who had roused 
 " young massa oncommon airly " for the same purpose ; all, 
 white, black, and yellow — and some neither white, black, nor 
 yellow — were scattered over various parts of the ground, en- 
 gaged in lounging, playing, drinking, smoking, chatting, swear- 
 ing, wrangling, and looking on at the turkey match. 
 
 A live turkey was tied to an ordinary bean pole, and, when 
 I emerged from the cabin, seven or eight " natives " had en- 
 tered for " a shot." The payment of a "bit," "cash down," 
 to Tom, who officiated as master of ceremonies, secured a 
 chance of hitting the turkey's head with a rifle bullet at " long 
 
5G MY SOUTHERN FRIENDS. 
 
 distance." Any other "hit" was considered "foul," and 
 passed for nothing. "Whoever took the prize, was expected to 
 " treat the crowd." As " the crowd " seemed a thirsty one, it 
 struck me that turkey would prove expensive eating to the 
 fortunate shots ; but they were oblivious of expense, and in a 
 state of mind that unfitted them for close financial calculations. 
 
 Nearly every marksman present had " carried off his poul- 
 try," and Tom already had reaped a harvest of dimes from the 
 whiskey drinking. "Why, bless ye," he said to me, "I should 
 be broke, clean done up, ef it warn't fur the drinks. I haint 
 got more'n a bit, or three fips, fur nary fowl. The fust shot 
 allers brings down the bird ; ary man on 'em kin hit a turkey's 
 eye at a hundred paces." This was true ; and in such schools 
 were trained the unerring marksmen who are now " bringing 
 down " the bravest youth of our country, like fowls at a turkey 
 match. 
 
 A disturbance had broken out on a remote part of the 
 ground, and, noticing about twenty negro men and women 
 seated on a log near by, I went in that direction, in hopes of 
 meeting the negro trader. It was a dog fight. Inside an 
 imaginary ring about ten feet in diameter, two dogs were 
 clenched in what seemed a life-and-death struggle. One was 
 holding the other down by the lower jaw, while a man, evi- 
 dently the owner of the half-vanquished brute, was trying to 
 separate them. Outside this ring about twenty other brutes — 
 men, women, and children — were cheering the combatants, and 
 calling on the meddler to desist. It was strange how the 
 peacemaker managed to stand up against the voDeys of oaths 
 showered upon him. He did, however, and persisted in his 
 laudable efforts, till a tall, rawboned, heavy -jawed fellow stepped 
 
THE NEGRO TRADER. 57 
 
 into the ring, and grasped him by the collar, saying : M Let 
 
 'em be — it's a fair fight ; d n yer pictur — let 'em 
 
 alone." 
 
 " Take thet ! ye whelp," said the other, planting a heavy 
 blow between the intruder's eyes. Blow followed blow ; they 
 clenched ; went down ; rose up ; fought on — at one end of the 
 ring the canines, at the other the fighters ; while the rest 
 looked on, shouting, " Let 'er rip ! Go in, Wade ! Hit 'im 
 agin ! Smash his mug ! Pluck the grizzly ! Hurrah fur 
 Smith ! Never say die ! Go in agin ! " till the blood flowed, 
 and dogs and men rolled over on the ground together. 
 
 Disgusted with this exhibition of nineteenth-century civili- 
 zation, I turned and walked away. As I did so, I noticed, fol- 
 lowing me at a short distance, a well-dressed man of about 
 thirty-five. He wore a slouched hat, a gray coat and pan- 
 taloons, and enormous high-top boots, to one of which was 
 affixed a brass spur. Over his shoulder, holding the two ends 
 in his hand, he carried a strong, flexible whip, silver mounted, 
 and polished like patent leather. He was about six feet high, 
 stoutly built, with a heavy, inexpressive face, and a clear, sharp 
 gray eye. One glance satisfied me that he was the negro 
 trader. 
 
 As he approached, he held out his hand in a free, hearty 
 way, saying : " Cunnel, good evenin'." 
 
 "Good evenin',"- 1 replied, intentionally adopting his ac- 
 cent ; " but yer wrong, stranger ; I'm nary cunnel." 
 
 " Well, Major, then ? " 
 
 " No, Gin'ral ; not even a corp'ral." 
 
 " Then ye're Squire " and he hesitated for me to fill up 
 
 the blank. 
 
 3* 
 
58 MY SOUTHERN FKIENDS. 
 
 " No ; not even Squire ," I added, laughing. u I've 
 
 nary title ; I'm plain Mister Kirke ; nothin' else." 
 
 " Well, Mister Kirke, ye're the fust man I've met in the 
 hull Suthun country who was jest nobody at all; and drot me 
 ef I doan't like ye fur't. Ev'ry d — d little upstart, now-a-days, 
 has a handle ter his name — they all b'long ter the nobility, ha ! 
 ha ! " and he again brought his hand down upon mine with a 
 concussion that made the woods ring. 
 
 " Come," he added, u let's hev a drink." 
 
 u Proud ter drink with ye, stranger ; but I karn't go Tom's 
 sperrets ; it's hard ter take." 
 
 " Thet's a fact ; but I keeps the raal stuff. Thet's the 
 pizen fur ye," he replied, holding up a small willow flask, and 
 starting for the bar. Entering a cloud of tobacco smoke, and 
 groping our way over groups of drunken chivalry, who lay 
 "loosely around," we approached the counter. 
 
 "Har, you lousy sorrel-top," said the trader to the red-faced 
 and red-headed bar tender, " har, give us some mugs." 
 
 " Sorrel-top " placed two glasses on the counter, and my 
 new acquaintance proceeded to rinse them thoroughly. They 
 -were of a clear grass-green color, and holding one up to the 
 light, the trader said : " Now luk a' them. Them's 'bout as 
 green as the fellers thet drink out on 'em. A man's stumac's 
 got ter be of cast iron ter stand the stuff they sell yere." 
 
 " It's better'n you kin 'ford ter drink," exclaimed the bar- 
 tender, in high dudgeon. 
 
 " "Who spoke ter ye ? — take thet ! " rejoined the trader, dis- 
 charging the contents of the glass full in the man's face. The 
 sorrel-crowned worthy bore the indignity silently, evidently 
 deeming discretion the better part of valor 
 
TUE H KG RO TRADER. 59 
 
 " Buj r 'n ony nigs, Kirke ? " said the trader, inserting his 
 arm in mine, and leading me away from the shanty. " I've 
 got a prime lot — prime I " and he smacked his lips at the last 
 "word, in the manner that is common to professional liquor 
 tasters. He scented a trade afar off, and his organs of taste, 
 sympathizing with his olfactories, gave out that token of satis- 
 faction. 
 
 " Well, I doan't know. What ye got ? " 
 
 " Some o' the likeliest property ye ever seed — men and 
 wimmin. All bought round har ; haint ben ter Virginny yit. 
 Come 'long, I'll show ye ; " and he proceeded toward the 
 group of chattels. He was becoming altogether too familiar , 
 but I called to mind a favorite maxim of good old Mr. Russell 
 — " Necessity has no law " — and quietly submitted. 
 
 The negroes were seated on a fallen pine, and were chained 
 together by the wrists, in gangs of four or five, the outside one 
 having one hand secured by a cord bound about the waist. 
 The men wore woollen hats, and the women neat Madras tur- 
 bans, and both had thick linsey clothing, warm enough for any 
 weather. Their dusky faces were sleek and oily, and their 
 kinky locks combed as straight as nature would permit. The 
 trader had "rigged them up," as a jockey "rigs up" horses for 
 market. 
 
 Pausing before a brawny specimen of the yellow species, he 
 said : " Thar, Kirke, luk o' thar ; thar's a boy fur ye — a nig 
 thet kin work ; 'tend ten thousand boxes (turpentine) easy. 
 He's the sort. Prime stuff, thet (feeling of his arms and 
 thighs) ; hard — hard as rock — siners like rope. Come o' good 
 stock, he did — the old Devereaux blood (a highly respectable 
 family in those parts) ; they's the raal quality — none on yer 
 
60 MY SOUTHERN FRIENDS. 
 
 shams and mushrooms, but gcmuvine 'stockracy — blamed ef 
 they liaint. What d'ye say ter him ? " 
 
 " "Well, he moight do, p'raps ; but I rather reckon ye've 
 done him up some — 'iled his face, greased his -wool, and sech 
 like. It's all right, ye knows — onything's far in trade ; but ye 
 karn't come it over me, ole feller. I'm up ter sech doin's. I 
 am, Mr. ," and I paused for him to finish the sentence. 
 
 "Larkin," he added quickly and good-humoredly ; "Jake 
 
 Larkin, and yours, by ," and he gave my hand another 
 
 shake. " Yer one on 'em, I swar, and I own up ; I hev 'iled 
 'em a trifle — jest a trifle ; but ye kin see through thet. We 
 hev ter do it ter fix the green 'uns, ye knows." 
 
 " Yes, I knows — 'iled 'em inside and out, haint ye ? " 
 
 " No, on my soul ; only one glass ter day — true as 
 preachin'." 
 
 "Boy," I said to the yellow man, u how much whiskey hev 
 ye drunk ter day ? Now, tell the truth." 
 
 " Nary drop, massa ; hed a moufful o' sperrets — a berry 
 little moufful ; dat's all." 
 
 " 'Taint 'nough, Larkin ! Come, now, doan't be mean with 
 nigs. Give 'em some more — some o' thet tall brandy o' yourn ; 
 a good swig. They karn't stand it out yere in the cold without 
 a little warmin' up." 
 
 " Well, I'm blamed ef I won't. Har, you, Jim," speaking 
 to a well-dressed darky lounging near ; " har, go ter thet red- 
 headed woodpecker, thar at the cabin, and tell him I'll smash 
 his peepers ef he doan't send me some glasses ter onst — d'ye 
 yere? Go." 
 
 The gentlemanly darky went, and soon returned with the 
 glass-ware ; and meanwhile Larkin directed* another well-clad 
 
TIIE NEGRO TRADER. 61 
 
 negro man to " fotch the jugs." They were strung across the 
 back of a horse which was tied near, and, uncorking one of 
 them, the trader said : "I allers tote my own pizen. 'Taint 
 right to give even nigs sech hell-fire as they sell round har ; it 
 gits a feller's stumac used ter Tophet 'fore the rest on him is 
 'climated." 
 
 11 Well, it does," I replied ; " it's the devil's own warmin' 
 pan." 
 
 Each negro received a fair quantity of the beverage, and 
 seemed the better for it. A little brandy, " for the stomach's 
 sake," is enjoyed by those dusky denizens of the low lati- 
 tudes. 
 
 "When they were all supplied, the trader said to me : 
 " Now, what d'ye say, Kirke ? "What'll ye give fur the 
 boy ? " 
 
 " "Well, I reckon I doan't want no boy now ; and I doan't 
 know as I wants ary 'ooman nother ; but if ye've got a right 
 likely gal — one thet'll sew, and nuss good — I moight buy har 
 fur a friend o' mine. His wife's hed twins, and he moight use 
 har ter look arter the young 'uns." 
 
 " Young or old ? " 
 
 " Young and sprightly." 
 
 " They is high, ye knows ; but thar's a gal thet'll suit. Git 
 up, gals ; " and a row of five women rose. " No ; git up thar, 
 whar we kin see ye." They stepped up on the log. " Now, 
 thar's a gal fur ye," he continued, pointing to a clean, tidy 
 mulatto woman, not more than nineteen, with a handsome but 
 meek, sorrow-marked face. " Luk at thet ! '" and he threw up 
 her dress to her knees, while the poor girl reached down her 
 shackled hands in the vain effort to prevent the indignity. He 
 
62 MY SOUTHERN FRIENDS. 
 
 was about to show off other good points, when I said : u Never 
 mind ; I see what she is. Let 'em git down." 
 
 They resumed their seats, and he continued : " Thet's jest 
 the gal ye wants, Kirke. Good at nussin', wet or dry. Good 
 at breedin', too ; hed two young 'uns a'ready. Ye kin 
 * * * * *. " (The rest of this discourse will not bear 
 repeating.) 
 
 " No, thank you." 
 
 " Well, jest as ye say. She's sound, though ; sold fur no 
 fault. Har young massa's ben a-usin' on har — young 'uns are 
 his'n. Old man got pious ; couldn't stand sech doin's, no- 
 how — ter home ; so he says ter me, ' Jake,' says he, ' take har 
 ter Orleans ; she's jest the sort ; ye'll make money sellin' har 
 ter some o' them young bloods.' Ha ! ha ! thet's religion fur 
 ye ! I doan't know, Kirke, mebbe ye b'long ter the church, 
 and p'raps ye're one o' the screamin' sort ; but onyhow, I say, 
 d — n sech religion as thet. Jake Larkin's a spec'lator, but he 
 wouldn't do a thing like thet ; ef he would, d — n him." 
 
 (The dealer in negroes never applies the term " trader " to 
 himself; he prefers the softer word, "speculator." The phrase 
 " negro trader," is used only by the rest of the community, 
 who are " holier than he.") 
 
 "I doan't b'lieve ye would, Larkin ; yer a good feller, at 
 bottom, I reckon." 
 
 11 Well, Kirke, ye're a trump. Come, hev another drink." 
 
 11 No ; excuse me ; karn't stand more'n one horn a day : 
 another'd lay me out flatter'n a stewpan. But ter business. 
 How much fur thet gal — cash down ? Come, talk it out." 
 
 " Well, at a word — twelve hun'red." 
 
 " Too much — bigger'n my pile ; couldn't put so much inter 
 
THE NEGRO TRADER. G3 
 
 one gal, nohow. Wouldn't give thet money fur ary nig in 
 Car'lina." 
 
 " Oh, buy me, good massa. Mister Larkin '11 take less'n dat, 
 I reckon ; do buy me," cried the girl, who had been eying me 
 very closely during the preceding dialogue. 
 
 " I would, my good girl, if I could ; but you'll not exactly 
 suit my friend." 
 
 11 Buy har fur yourself, then, Kirke. She'll suit you. 
 She's sound, I tell ye ; ye'd make money on har." 
 
 " Not much, I reckon," I replied, dryly. 
 
 " Why not ? She'll breed like a rabbit. * * * * * " 
 
 " I wouldn't own her for the whole State. If I had her, 
 I'd free her on the spot ! " The cool bestiality of the trader 
 disgusted me, and I forgot myself. 
 
 He started back surprised, then quietly remarked : " Ye're 
 a Nuthuner, I swar ; no corncracker ever held sech doctrines 
 as them." 
 
 " Yes," I replied, dropping the accent which my blunder 
 had rendered useless ; " I am a Northerner ; but I want a 
 nurse, notwithstanding, for a friend." 
 
 " Whar d'ye live ? " asked the trader, in the same free, 
 good-natured tone as before. 
 
 " In New York." 
 
 "In York! What! yer not Mr. Kirke, of Randall, 
 Kirke & Co. ? But, blamenation, ye ar ! How them whis- 
 kers has altered ye ! I thort I'd seed ye afore. Haint ye 
 come it over me slick ? Tuk in clean — swollered whole. But 
 thar's my hand, Mr. Kirke ; I'm right glad ter see ye." 
 
 " Where have you met me, my good fellow ? I don't re- 
 member you." 
 
G4 MY SOUTHERN FRIENDS. 
 
 u Down tcr Orleans. Seed ye inter Roye, Struthers & 
 Co.'s. The ole man thinks a heap o' you. Ye give 'em a pile 
 o' business, doan't ye ? " 
 
 " No ; not much of our own. They buy cotton for our 
 English correspondents, and negotiate through us ; that is all. 
 Roye is a fine old gentleman." 
 
 " Yes, he ar ; I'm in with him." 
 
 " How in with him ? " 
 
 11 Why, in this business. "We go snacks ; I does the 
 buyin', and he finds the rocks. "We use a pile — sometimes a 
 hun'red, sometimes two hun'red thousand." 
 
 " Is it possible ! Then you do a large business ? " 
 
 " Yes, right smart. I handle 'bout a thousand, big and 
 little, ev'ry year." 
 
 " That is large. You do not buy and sell them all, your- 
 self, do you ? " 
 
 " Oh ! no ; I hardly ever sells. Once in a while I run 
 agin a buyer, like you — ha ! ha ! — and let one drap ; but 
 gin'rally I cage 'em ; and when I git 'bout a hun'red together, 
 take 'em ter Orleans, and auction 'em off. Thar's no fuss and 
 dicker 'bout thet, ye knows." 
 
 " Yes, I know. But how do you manage so large a gang? 
 I should think some would get away." 
 
 " No, they doan't. I put the ribands on 'em ; and, 'sides, 
 ye see them boys, thar ? " pointing to three splendid specimens 
 of property, loitering near ; " I've hed them boys nigh on ter 
 ten year, and I haint lost nary nig sence I had 'em. They're 
 cuter and smarter nor I ar, ony day." 
 
 " Then you pick the negroes up round the country, and 
 send them to a rendezvous, where you put them in jail till you 
 make up your number ? " 
 
THE NEGEO TEADER, 65 
 
 11 Yes ; I'm pickin' some up round yere, now, ye see, and 
 takin' 'em ter Goldsboro'. When I've toted 'em down thar, 
 the boys and I'll go up ter Virginny." 
 
 " Why don't you send them on by stage ? I should think 
 it would hurt them to camp out at this season." 
 
 " Hurt 'em ! Lord bless ye, fresh air never hurt a nig. 
 They're never so happy as sleepin' on the groun', with nothin' 
 over 'em, and thar heels close ter a light-wood fire." 
 
 " But the delicate house-women, and the children — can 
 they bear it ? " 
 
 " It do come a trifle hard on them, but it doan't last long. 
 I allers takes ter the railroad when I gits a gang together." 
 
 " Well, come ; I want a woman. Show me all you have." 
 
 " Do you mean so, raally, Mr. Kirke ? I thort ye wus 
 a comin' it on me ; and I swar ye does do the Suthun like a 
 native. I'm blamed ef I didn't s'pose ye b'longed round yere. 
 Ha ! ha ! How the ole man would larf ter hear it ! " 
 
 "But I am a native, Larkin ; born within sight of Bunker 
 Hill." 
 
 " Yes, thet kind o' native ; and them's the sort, too. They 
 make all-fired smart spectators. I knows a dozen on 'em, thet 
 hev made thar pile, and haint older'n I ar, nother." 
 
 " Is it possible ! — Yankees in this business ? " 
 
 " Yes, lots on 'em. Some on yer big folks up ter York 
 and Bostin are in it deep ; but they go the 'portin' line, 
 gin'rally, and thet d — d ef Pd do it, onyhow." 
 
 " Well, about the woman. None of these will do ; are 
 they all you have ? " 
 
 " No ; I've got one more, but I've sort o' 'lotted har ter a 
 young feller down ter Orleans. He axed me ter git him jest 
 
66 MY SOUTHERN FRIENDS. 
 
 sech a gal. She's 'most white, and brought up tender like ; 
 and them kind is high prized, ye knows." 
 
 " Yes, I know ; but where is she ? Let me see her." 
 
 " She's in the store ; " and, rising, he led the way to the 
 shanty. 
 
 When we arrived at the part of the ground where the 
 marksmen were stationed, we found an altercation going on 
 between Tom and a young planter. It appeared that the 
 young man had paid for a shot, and insisted on his body ser- 
 vant taking his place in the lists. To that Tom, and the stout 
 yeomen who had entered for the turkey, objected, on account 
 of the yellow man's station and complexion. 
 
 The young gentleman was dressed in the highest style of 
 fashion, and, though not more than nineteen, was evidently a 
 " blood " of " the very first water." The body servant was a 
 good-looking quadroon, and sported an enormous diamond pin 
 and a heavy gold watch-chain. In his sleek beaver hat, and 
 nicely-brushed suit of black broadcloth, he appeared more like 
 a gentleman than any one on the ground. 
 
 As we approached, Tom — every pimple on his red face 
 swelling with virtuous indignation — was delivering himself of 
 the following harangue : 
 
 " We doan't put ourselfs on a futtin' with darkies, Mr. Gas- 
 ton. We doan't keer if they does b'long ter kid-gloved 'risto- 
 crats like ye is ; they karn't come in har, nohow ! Ye'd better 
 go home. Ye orter be in better business then prowlin' round 
 shootin' matches, with yer scented, bedevilled-up buck niggers. 
 Go home, and wash the scent out o' yer does. Yer d — d 
 muskmelon" (Tom's word for musk) ''makes ye smell jest like 
 hurt skunks ; and ye ar skunks, clar through ter the innards. 
 Whew ! Clar out, I tell ye ! " 
 
THE NEGRO TRADER. C7 
 
 The young man's face reddened. The blood of the chiv- 
 alry was rising, and he replied : 
 
 11 Keep a civil tongue in your head, you thieving scoun- 
 drel. If you don't, the next time I catch you trading with my 
 nigs, I'll see you get a hundred lashes ; d — d if I don't." 
 
 Tom bade him go to a very warm latitude, and denied trad- 
 ing with negroes. 
 
 " You lie, you sneaking whelp. You've got the marks on 
 your back now, for dealing with Pritchett's." 
 
 Tom returned the lie, when the young man's face grew a 
 trifle redder, and his whip rising in the air, it fell across Tom's 
 nose in a very uncomfortable manner — for Tom. The liquor 
 vender reeled, but, recovering himself in a moment, he aimed a 
 heavy blow at the young gentleman's frontispiece. That "par- 
 lor ornament " would have been sadly disfigured, had not the 
 darky caught the stroke on his left arm, and at the same mo- 
 ment planted what the " profession" call a " wiper," just behind 
 Tom's left ear. Tom's private dram shop went down — " caved 
 in " — was " laid out sprawlin' ; " and two or three minutes 
 elapsed before it got on its legs again. When it did, it frothed 
 at the mouth like a mug of ale with too much head on it. 
 
 They were not more than six paces apart when Tom rose. 
 Drawing a double-barrelled pistol from his pocket, he aimed it 
 at the planter. The latter was in readiness for him. His six- 
 shooter was level with Tom's breast, and his hand on the trig- 
 ger, when, just as he was about to fire, the negro trader coolly 
 stepped before him, and twisted the weapon from his hand. 
 Turning to Tom, Larkin then said : " Now, you clar ! Make 
 tracks, or I'll lamm ye like blamenation. Be off, I tell ye ! " 
 he added, as Tom showed an unwillingness to move. "A sen- 
 
68 MY SOUTHERN FRIENDS. 
 
 sible man like ye arn't a gwine ter waste good powder on sech 
 a muskrat sort of a thing as this is, is ye? Come, clar ! " and 
 placing his hand on Tom's shoulder, he accelerated his rather 
 slow movements toward the groggery. Returning then to the 
 young man, he said : 
 
 " And now you, Mr. Gustavus Adolphus Pocahontas Pow- 
 hatan Gaston, s'pose you clar out, too ? " 
 
 " I shall go when I please — not before," said Mr. Gaston. 
 
 " You'll please mighty sudden, then, I reckon. A young 
 man o' your edication should be 'bout better business than git- 
 tin' inter brawls with low groggery keepers, and 'sultin' decent 
 white folks with your scented-up niggers. Yer a disgrace ter 
 yer good ole father, and them as wus afore him. "With yer 
 larnin' and money ye moight be doin' suthin' fur them as is 
 below ye ; but yer doin' nothin' but hangin' round bar rooms, 
 gittin drunk, playin' cards, drivin' fast hosses, and keepin' nig- 
 ger wimmin. I'm ashamed o' ye. Yer gwine straight ter hell, 
 ye is ; and the hull country's gwine thar, too, 'cause it's raisin' 
 a crap of jest sech idle, no-account, blusterin', riproarin' young 
 fools as you is. Now, go home. Make tracks ter onst, or I'll 
 hev thet d — d nigger's neck o' your'n stretched fur strikin' a 
 white man, I will ! Ye knows me, and I'll do it, as sure's my 
 name's Jake Larkin." 
 
 The young planter listened rather impatiently to this ha- 
 rangue, but said nothing. "When it was concluded, he told his 
 servant to bring up the horses ; and then, turning to the trader, 
 said : 
 
 " "Well, Right Reverend Mr. Larkin, you'll please to make 
 yourself scarce around the plantation in future. If you come 
 near it, just remember that we keep dogs, and that we use them 
 
THE NEGRO TRADER. 69 
 
 for chasing — niggers." The last word was emphasized in 
 a way that showed he classed Larkin with the wares he 
 dealt in. 
 
 " Yer father, young man, is a honest man, and a gentleman. 
 He knows I'm one, if I does trade in niggers. He'll want ter 
 see me when I want ter come." 
 
 The negro by this time had brought up the horses. "Good 
 evening, Mr. Larkin," said young Hopeful, as he mounted and 
 rode off. 
 
 " Good evenin','' replied the trader, coolly, but respectfully. 
 
 " Good evenin', Mister Larkin," said the gentleman's gentle- 
 man, as he also mounted to ride off. The emphasis on the 
 u Mister" was too much for the trader, and, making one spring 
 toward the darky, he laid his stout whip across his face. The 
 scented ebony roared, and just then his horse, a high-blooded 
 animal, reared, and threw him. "When he had gathered him- 
 self up, several warm applications of a thick boot were made to 
 the inexpressible part of his person, and, roaring with pain, he 
 made off at a gait faster than that of his runaway horse. 
 
 During the affray the occupants of the ground gathered 
 around the belligerents ; but as soon as it was over, they went 
 quietly back to "old-sledge," "seven-up," "pitch-and-toss," 
 " chuck-a-luck," and the " turkey match." 
 
 As we walked toward the shanty, the trader said : " Thet 
 feller's a fool. What a chance he's throwin' away ! He arn't 
 of no more use than a rotten coon skin or a spoilt herrin', he 
 arn't. All on our young bucks is jest like him. The coun- 
 try's goin' ter the devil, shore ; " and, with this choice bit of 
 moralizing, he entered the cabin. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 A SLAVE SALE. 
 
 The Squire was pacing to and fro in the upper end of the 
 room, and the woman and children were seated on the low 
 bench near the counter. Phyllis lifted her eyes to my face as 
 I entered, with a hopeful, inquiring expression, but they fell 
 again when the trader said : " Thet's the gal fur ye, Mr. 
 Kirke ; the most perfectest gal in seven States ; good at ony- 
 thing — washin', ironin', nussin', breedin' ; rig'larly fotched up ; 
 worth her weight in gold, d — d if she haint." Turning then 
 to Preston, he exclaimed : 
 
 " Why, Squire, how ar ye ? " 
 
 " Very well," replied my friend, coolly. 
 
 u How's times ? " continued the trader. 
 
 u Very well," said Preston, in a tone which showed a de- 
 cided distaste for conversation. 
 
 " "Well, glad on it. I heerd ye were hard put. Glad on 
 it, Squire. " 
 
 The Squire took no further notice of him ; and, turning to 
 his property, the trader said : 
 
 " Stand up, gal, and let me show what yer made of. 
 Doan't look so down in the mouth, gal ; this gentleman's got a 
 friend thet'H keep ye in the style ye's fotched up ter." 
 
A SLAVE SALE. 71 
 
 Phyllis rose, and made a strong effort to appear com- 
 posed. 
 
 " Now, Mr. Kirke, Ink at thet rig," said Larkin, seizing her 
 rudely by the arm, and turning her half around ; " straight's a 
 rail. Luk at thet ankle and fut — nimble's a squirrel ; and 
 healthy ! why, ye couldn't sicken har if ye put liar ter boss- 
 petal work." 
 
 ""Well, never mind; I see what she is. What's your 
 price ? " 
 
 " But ye haint seed har yit ! She's puny like, I knows, 
 but she's solid, I reckon ; thar haint a pound o' loose stuff on 
 har — it's all muscle. See thar— jest look o' thet," and he 
 stripped the sleeve of her dress to the elbow; " thar's a arm 
 fur ye — whiter'n buttermilk, and harder'n cheese. Feel on't." 
 
 The poor woman submitted meekly to this rough handling 
 of her person, but I said, impatiently : 
 
 " I tell you, Larkin, I'm satisfied. Name your price. I've 
 no time to lose : the stage will be along in five minutes." 
 
 " The stage ! Lord bless ye, Mr. Kirke, it's broke down ; 
 't won't be here fur an hour, I knows. Now luk o' thet," he 
 continued, drawing the poor woman's thin dress tightly across 
 her limbs, while he proceeded, despite my repeated attempts to 
 interrupt him, with his disgusting exhibitions, which it would 
 be disgraceful even to describe. "Ye doan't mind, do ye, 
 gal ? " he added, chucking her under the chin in a rude, 
 familiar way, and giving a brutal laugh. Phyllis shrank away 
 from him, but made no reply. She had evidently braced her 
 mind to the ordeal, and was prepared to bear anything, rather 
 than offend him. I determined to stop any further proceeding, 
 and said to him : 
 
72 MY SOUTHERN FRIENDS. 
 
 " I tell you, Larkin, I'm satisfied. I cannot waste my time 
 in this manner. Let's have your price. 
 
 u Time, Mr. Kirke ! Why, yer time arn't worth nothin' 
 jest now. The stage won't be 'long 'fore dark. Ye haint seed 
 half on har yit. I doan't want ter sell ye a damaged article. 
 I want ter show ye she's sound's a nut — ye worCt pay my price 
 ef I doarit. Look a thar, now," and with a quick, dexterous 
 movement, he tore open the front of her dress. * * * * 
 
 The poor girl, unable to use her hands, bent over nearly 
 double, and strained the children to her breast to hide her 
 shame. A movement at the other end of the room made me 
 look at the Squire. "With his jaws set, his hands clenched, and 
 his face on fire, he was striding toward the trader. In a mo- 
 ment he would have been upon him. My own blood boiled, 
 but, knowing that an outbreak would be fatal to our purpose, I 
 planted myself firmly in his way, and said, as I took him by 
 the arm, and held him back by main force : 
 
 11 Be quiet, Preston ; this is my affair." 
 
 11 Yes, Squire," added the trader, " ye'd better be quiet. 
 Ye'll turn trader yerself, yit. If things is true, ye'll hev ter 
 begin on yer own nigs, mighty sudden." 
 
 "If I am brought to that," replied the Squire, with the 
 calm dignity which was natural to him, " I shall treat them 
 like human beings — not like brutes." 
 
 " Ye'll show 'em off the best how ye kin ; let ye alone fur 
 thet. I know yer whole parson tribe ; thar haint nary a hon- 
 est one among ye." 
 
 Preston turned silently away, as if disdaining to waste 
 words on such a subject ; and I said to the trader : 
 
 11 Mr. Larkin, I've told you I've no time to lose. Name 
 your price at once, or I'll not buy the woman at all." 
 
ASLAVESALE. 73 
 
 " "Wall, jest as ye say, Mr. Kirke. But ye see she's a rare 
 'un — would bring two thousand in Orleans, sure's a gun." 
 
 " Pshaw ! you know better than that. But name your 
 price." 
 
 " What, fur the lot, or the 'ooman alone ? " 
 
 " Either way. I've no particular use for the children, but 
 I'll buy them, if cheap." 
 
 "Oh! do buy us," cried the little girl, taking hold of my 
 coat ; " do buy us — please do, good massa." 
 
 " Shet up, ye young whelp," said the trader, raising his 
 whip. The little thing slunk back affrighted, and began to 
 sob, but said no more. 
 
 " Wall, Mr. Kirke, the lot cost me sixteen fifty, hard 
 rocks ; and 'twus dirt cheap, 'cause the 'ooman alone'H bring 
 more'n thet. I couldn't hev bought har fur thet, but har owner 
 
 wus hard up. Ye see, he's Gineral , down ter New- 
 
 bern, one on yer reg'lar 'ristocrats, the raal ole-fashioned sort — 
 keeps big plantation, house in town ; fine wines ; fine wim- 
 men ; fast hosses ; and goes it mighty strong. Well, he's 
 allers a trifle under — ev'ry year 'bout two thousand short ; and 
 ev'ry year I buy a couple or so of nigs on him ter make it up. 
 Wall, when I gits 'long thar t'other day, he says ter me, says 
 he : ' Lark ' (he allers calls me Lark ; thet's the name I goes 
 by 'mong my intimate 'quaintance. He's a pertickerler friend 
 o' mine, ye see ; he thinks a heap o' me, he does) ; well, says 
 he, ' Lark, thar's Phylly ; I want ye ter take har. She's the 
 likeliest gal in the world — good ole Virginny blood, father one 
 of the raal ole stock. Ye knows she's right — right ev'ry way ; 
 prays like a camp meetin', and virtuous ter kill ; thar ain't 
 none round har thet's up ter har at thet ; tried ter cum round 
 4 
 
74 MY SOUTHERN FRIENDS. 
 
 liar myself, but couldn't git nigher'n a rod — won't hev but one 
 man, and'll stick ter him like death ; jest the sort fur one o' 
 them New Orleans bloods as wants a gal thet'll be true ter 
 'cm. Does ye take, Lark?' says he. 'Well, I does,' says I; 
 4 and I knows jest the feller fur har — one o' yer raal highflyers ; 
 rich's a Jew — twenty thousand a year ; lives like a prince ; got 
 one or two on 'em now ; but he says ter me, when I comes off, 
 'Lark,' says he, 'find me a gal, kinder pale, tidy, hard's a 
 nut, and not bigger'n a cotton bale.' 'Well,' says I, 'I 
 will ; ' and, Gin'ral, Phylly's the gal ! She'll hev good times, 
 live like a queen, hev wines, dresses, bosses, operas, and all 
 them sort o' things ; ye knows them ar fellers doan't stand fur 
 trifles.' 'Yes, I knows, Lark,' says the Gin'ral; 'and bein' 
 it's so, ye kin take har ; but I wouldn't sell har ter ary nother 
 man livin' — ef I would, d — n me. Ye kin hev har, Lark, but 
 ye must take the young 'uns ; she's got two, ye knows, and it 
 hain't Christian-like ter sell 'em apart.' k D — n the young 
 'uns, Gin'ral,' says I; 'I karn't do nary a thing with them, 
 What'll one o' them young bloods want o' them ? They goes 
 in fur home manufactures.' 'Yes, I knows, Lark,' says he, 
 ' but ye kin sell 'em off thar ; ony planter'll buy 'em ; they'll 
 pay ter raise. They're likely little gals, ye knows — hon- 
 est born, white father, and'll make han'some wimmin — han'- 
 somer'n thar mother, and'll sell higher when they's grow'd up. 
 Ye'd better take 'em Lark. Ef ye doan't, I'm d— d ef I'll 
 sell ye the mother ; fur, ye see, I must have the whole vally, 
 now, thet's honest.' 'Wall, Gin'ral,' says I, 'ye allers talks 
 right out, thet's what I likes in ye. What's the price?' 
 1 "\\ all,' says he, ' bein' it's ye, and ye've a good master in yer 
 eye fur Phylly, I'll say two. thousand fur the lot — the gal 
 
A SLAVE SALE. 7 
 
 ■j 
 
 alone'll fotch twenty-five hun'red down ter Orleans.' ' Whew ! ' 
 says I, ' Gin'ral, ye've been a takin' suthin'. (But he hedn't ; 
 he war soberer than a church clock ; 'twarn't more'n 'lev'n, 
 and he's never drunk 'fore evenin'.) 'Wall,' says I, ' karn't 
 think on it, nohow, Gin'ral.' Then he come down ter eighteen ; 
 but I counted out sixteen fifty — good rags on the ole State 
 Bank — and I'm blamed ef he didn't take it. I'd no idee he 
 wud ; but debt, Mr. Kirke, debt's the devil ; but it helps us, 
 'case, I s'pose (and he laughed his hardened, brutal laugh), 
 we does the devil's own work. But be thet how it may, ef 
 them highnyin' planters didn't run inter it, and hev ter pay up, 
 nigger spec'latin' wouldn't be wuth follerin'. Wall, I took the 
 nigs, and thar they is ; and bein' it's ye, Mr. Kirke, and ye're 
 a friend on the ole man, ye shill hev the lot fur a hun'red and 
 fifty more— or the 'ooman alone fur fifteen hun'red ; but ary 
 nother white man couldn't toch 'em fur less'n two thousand — 
 ef they could, d — n me." 
 
 The stage had not arrived, and I had submitted to this 
 lengthy harangue, because I saw I was more sure to accom- 
 plish the purchase by indulging the humor of the trader. The 
 suspense was, no doubt, agony to Phyllis, and Preston mani- 
 fested decided impatience, but the delay seemed unavoidable. 
 It was difficult for the latter to control himself. He chafed 
 like a chained tiger. At first he paced up and down the far- 
 ther side of the apartment, then sat down, then rose and paced 
 the room again, and then again sat down, every now and then 
 glaring upon Larkin with a look of savage ferocity that showed 
 the wild beast was rising in him. The trader once in a while 
 looked toward him with a cool unconcern that indicated two 
 things : nerves of iron, and perfect familiarity with such dem- 
 onstrations 
 
70 MY SOUTIIEKN FRIENDS. # 
 
 Fearing an explosion, I at last stepped up to the Squire, 
 and said, in a low tone : " Let me beg of you to leave the 
 room ; du — you may spoil all." He made no reply, but did 
 as I requested. 
 
 When he had gone, Larkin remarked, in an indifferent 
 way, " The Squire's got the devil in him. He's some when 
 his blood's up — edged tools, dangerous ter handle ; he is — I 
 knows him. I'd ruther hev six like Tom on me, ony time, 
 than one like him. But he karn't skeer me. The man doan't 
 breathe thet kin turn Jake Larkin a hair." 
 
 " I see he's excited," I replied ; " but why is he so inter- 
 'ested in this woman ? " 
 
 "Why? She was fotched up 'long with him — children 
 together. He owned har till he got in the nineholes one day, 
 and sold har ter the Gin'ral. I'd bet a pile the young 'uns ar 
 his'n. He knows har as he do the psa'm book. Ha ! ha ! " 
 and he chucked Phyllis again under the chin, as he asked, 
 " Doan't he, gal?" 
 
 She shrank away from him, but said nothing. 
 
 " Doan't be squeamy, gal ; out with it ; we'll think the 
 more on ye fur't. Arn't the young 'uns his'n ? Didn't ye 
 b'long ter the Squire till he got so d — d pious five year ago ? " 
 
 " Yes, master ; I belonged to him. Master Robert was 
 allers pious." 
 
 " Yes, I knows ; he wus allers preachin' pious. But didn't 
 ye b'long ter him — ye knows what I means — till he got so 
 d — d camp-meetin' pious ? " 
 
 " Master Robert was allers camp-meetin' pious," replied the 
 woman, looking down, and drawing her thin shawl more closely 
 over her open bosom. 
 
A SLAVE SALE. 77 
 
 ""Wall," said Larkin, "ye karn't git nothin' out o' har; but 
 it's so — shore ! Ev'ry 'un says so ; and what ev'ry 'un says, 
 arn't more'n a mile from the truth. Jest look o' thet little 'un. 
 Doan't ye see the Squire's eyes and forrerd thar ? " and, 
 taking the little girl roughly by the arm, he turned her face 
 toward mine. The lower part of her features were like her 
 mother's ; but her eyes, hair, and forehead, were Preston's ! 
 
 " Yes, I see," I said ; " but you spoke of two little girls ; 
 where is the other ? " 
 
 " "Wall, ye see, I bought 'em both, and the Gin'ral guv 
 me a bill o' sale on 'em ; but when we come to look arter the 
 young 'un in the mornin', she warn't thar. The Gin'ral's 
 'ooman — she's a 'ooman fur me — a whole team ; she makes 
 him stan' round, I reckon — wall, she'd a likin' fur the little 
 'un, and she swoore she shouldn't be sold. She told me ter my 
 face she'd packed har off whar I couldn't git har, nohow ; and 
 she'd raise the town, and hev me driv' out, ef I 'tempted it." 
 
 " What did you do then ? " I asked. 
 
 " Wall, ye knows the Gin'ral's a honerubble man ; so, 
 when he seed his 'ooman wus sot thet way, he tfrrow'd in the 
 yaller boy — and he's wuth a hun'red more'n the gal, ony day. 
 His mother took on ter kill, 'case the Gin'ral'd sort o' prom- 
 ised him ter har, and she'd been a savin' up ter buy him. But 
 the Gin'ral's a honerubble man, and he didn't flinch a hair — not 
 a hair. Thet's the sort ter deal with, I say. I stuck fur the 
 little gal, though — 'case, ye see, I'd taken a likin' ter har my- 
 self — she's the pootiest little thing ye ever seed, she is ; but the 
 Gin'ral he said 'twarn't no use, fur his 'ooman would hev har 
 way ; and finarly I guv in, and took another bill o' sale. And 
 what d'ye think ! I'd no more'n got it inter my pocket, 'fore 
 
h 
 
 8 MY SOUTHERN FRIENDS. 
 
 the Gin'ral's 'ooman pulled out a gold watch, two or three dia- 
 mond pins, a ring or two, and some wimmin fixin's, and says 
 she, ' See thar, Mister Larkin ; them's what I got fur the little 
 gal. Fvc sold har — sold har this mornin', and guv the bill o' 
 sale ; and ef the Gin'ral doan't sartify it, he woan't git no 
 peace, I reckon. I wus bound ter see one on 'em done right 
 by, I wus.' "Wall, I told har she wus ahead o' my time, and I 
 put out kinder sudden, I did. A 'ooman's the devil; I'd 
 rather trade with twenty men nor one 'ooman, I swar." 
 
 When he spoke of her child, the slave woman burst into 
 tears. Her emotion drowned the curiosity which had made me 
 a patient listener to the trader's story, and recalled me to the 
 business in hand. With some twinges of conscience for hav- 
 ing kept the wretched girl so long on the rack, I said to him, 
 11 Well, Larkin, let's get through with this. What is your 
 lowest price for the lot ? " 
 
 " P'raps you'd as lief throw out the boy ? I'd take off 
 three hun'red fur him." 
 
 11 Oh ! doan't ye leab Ally, massa ! buy Ally too, massa ! 
 oh ! do, good massa ! " he cried, with an expression of keen 
 agony such as I had never till then seen in one so young. He 
 was a " likely " little fellow, with a round, good-natured face, 
 and a bright, intelligent eye ; and, though I presumed Preston 
 felt no particular interest in him, I thought of his mother, de- 
 priving herself of sleep and rest to save up the price of her 
 child, and I said : " No, I have taken a liking to him ; I'll take 
 the whole, or none." 
 
 11 Well, then, seventeen fifty — not a dime less. Thet's 
 only a hun'red profit." 
 
 " Will a hundred profit satisfy you ? n 
 
A SLAVE SALE. 79 
 
 i 
 
 " Yes, bein' as ye's a friend o' the ole man, and I hain't 
 
 
 
 had 'em only four days." 
 
 I sat„down on the bench beside the little girl, and taking 
 her small hand in mine, and playing with her fingers in a care- 
 less way, said : " Well, I will give you a hundred profit ; but, 
 Larkin," and I looked him directly in the eye, and smiled, 
 " you can't intend to come the Yankee over me ! I am one 
 of them myself you know, and understand such things. These 
 people cost you twelve hundred — not a dime more." 
 
 " The h — 11 they did ! P'raps ye mean ter say I lie ? " he 
 replied, in an excited tone, his face reddening with anger. 
 
 " No, I don't. I merely state a fact, and you know it. So 
 keep cook" 
 
 "It's a d — d lie, sir; I doan't keer who says it," he ex- 
 claimed, now really excited. 
 
 " Come, come, my fine fellow," I said, rising, and facing 
 him ; " skip the hard words, and don't get up too much steam ; 
 it might damage you, or your friends." 
 
 u What d'ye mean ? Speak out, Mr. Kirke. Ef ye doan't 
 want ter buy 'em, say so, and hev done with it." This was 
 said in a more moderate tone. He had evidently taken my 
 meaning, and feared he had gone too far. 
 
 " I mean simply this : This woman and the children cost 
 you twelve hundred dollars four days ago. Preston wants 
 them — must have them — and he will give thirteen hundred for 
 them, and pay you in a year, with interest ; that's all." 
 
 " Wall, come now, Mr. Kirke, thet's liberal, ■ arn't it ! 
 S'pose I doan't take it, what then ? " 
 
 "Then Roye, Struthers & Co. will stop your supplies, 
 or Pll stop theirs — that's 'sartin,'" and I laughed good- 
 humoredly as I said it. 
 
80 MY SOUTHERN FRIENDS. 
 
 " Wall, ye're one on 'em, Mr. Kirke, thet's a fact ; " and 
 then he added, sciiously, "but ye karn't mean ter saddle my 
 doin's onter them ? " 
 
 "Yes, I will; and tell them they have you to thank for it." 
 
 11 What " — and he struck his forehead with his hand — 
 " what a dangnation fool I wus ter tell ye 'bout them ! " 
 
 11 Of course you were ; and a greater one to say you paid 
 sixteen fifty for the property. I'd have given fifteen hundred 
 for them, if you had told the truth. But come, what do you 
 say ; are they Preston's, or not ? " 
 
 " Xo, I karn't do it ; karn't take Preston's note — 'tain't 
 wuth a hill o' beans. Give me the money, and it's a trade." 
 
 " Preston is cramped, and cannot pay the money now. I'll 
 give you my note, if you prefer it." 
 
 u Payable in York, interest and exchange ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Well, it's done. And now, d — n the nigs. I'll never 
 buy ary nother good-lookin' 'un as long's I live." 
 
 "I hope you won't," I replied, laughing. 
 
 He then produced a blank note and a bill of sale, and draw- 
 ing from his pocket a pen and a small ink bottle, said to me : 
 " Thar, Mr. Kirke, ye fill up the note, and I'll make out the 
 bill o' sale. I'm handy at sech doin's." 
 
 " Give me the key of these bracelets first. Make out the 
 bill to Preston — Robert Preston, of Jones County." 
 
 He handed me the key, and I unlocked the shackles. 
 "Now, Phyllis," I said, "it is over. Go and tell Master 
 Robert." 
 
 She rose, threw her arms wildly above her head, and, stag- 
 gering weakly forward, without saying a word, left the cabin. 
 
A SLAVE SALE. 81 
 
 Yelping and leaping with joy, the yellow boy followed her; 
 but the little girl came to me, and, looking up timidly in my 
 face, said : " Oh ! massa, Rosey so glad 'ou got mammy — 
 Rosey so glad. Rosey lub 'ou, massa — Rosey lub 'ou a heap." 
 I thought of a little girl I had left at home, and, with a sudden 
 impulse, lifted the child from the floor and kissed her. She 
 put her small arms about my neck, laid her soft cheek against 
 mine, and burst into tears. 
 
 I filled out the note, and gave it to the trader ; and, with 
 the bill of sale in my hand, was about to go in search of Pres- 
 ton, when he and Phyllis entered the cabin. I handed him the 
 document, and, glancing over it, he placed it in his pocket 
 book, 
 
 "Now, Larkin," I said, "this is a wretched business. 
 Give it up ; there's too much of the man in you for this sort 
 of thing." 
 
 " Wall, p'raps ye're right, Mr. Kirke ; but I'm in it, and I 
 karn't git out. But it seems ter me 'tain't no wuss dealin' in 
 'em, than ownin' 'em." 
 
 " I don't know. Is it not a little worse on the man him- 
 self? Does it not sort of harden you — blunt your better feel- 
 ings — to be always buying and selling people that do not want 
 to be bought and sold ? " 
 
 " Wall, p'raps it do ; it's a cussed business, onyhow. But 
 thar's my hand, Mr. Kirke. Ye're a gintleman, I swar, ef ye 
 hev come it over me. Ha ! ha ! How slick you done it ! I 
 likes ye the better fur it ; and ef Jake Larkin kin ever do ye a 
 good turn, he'll do it. I allers takes ter a man thet's smarter 
 nor I ar, I does ; " and he gave my hand another powerful 
 shake. 
 
82 MY SOUTHERN FRIENDS. 
 
 " I thank you, Larkin ; and if I can ever serve you, it will 
 give me great pleasure to do so." 
 
 " I doan't doubt it, Mr. Kirke, I doan't ; and I'll call on 
 ye, shore, ef ye kin ever do me ony good. Good-by ; ye 
 want ter be with the Squire; good-by;" and he left the 
 cabin. 
 
 Which was the worse — that coarse, hardened man, or the 
 institution which had made him what he was ? 
 
 Many years afterward the trader and I met again ; and 
 then he kept his word. 
 
CHAPTEE VI. 
 
 ON THE ROAD. 
 
 It was nine o'clock at night, when the stage halted be- 
 fore the door of that purgatory for Southern pilgrims, the 
 " Washington House," Newbern. As we dismounted from 
 the box, Preston said to me : 
 
 11 You order supper and a room, while I attend to Phyllis 
 and the children. I'll join you presently.'* 
 
 Seeing that our luggage was safely deposited on the 
 piazza, I entered the hotel in quest of the landlord. The 
 " office " was a long, low, dingy apartment, with tobacco- 
 stained floor, blackened ceiling, and greasy, brown walls, 
 ornamented here and there with advertisements of runaway 
 slaves, auction notices of " mules, negroes, and other prop- 
 erty," a few dusty maps, and a number of unframed wood-cuts 
 of prominent political characters. Among the latter, Calhoun, 
 in bristling hair, cadaverous face, and high shirt collar, looked 
 11 the unkindest cut of all." Behind the bar, which extended 
 across the farther end of the room, was drawn up a whole regi- 
 ment of glass decanters, and stout black bottles, full of spirit, 
 and ready for active service. A generous wood fire roared and 
 crackled on a broad hearthstone, and in a semicircle around it, 
 in every conceivable attitude, were gathered about twenty 
 
84 MY SOUTHERN FBIENDS. 
 
 planters' sons, village shopkeepers, turpentine farmers, itiner- 
 ant horse dealers,* and cattle drovers. Some had their heels a 
 trifle higher than their heads, some were seated on the knees 
 of others, some were lounging on the arms of chairs, and some 
 were stretched at full length on a pile of trunks near by; but 
 all were too much engaged in smoking, expectorating, and lis- 
 tening to a horse-trading narrative, which one of their number 
 was relating, to heed my entrance. 
 
 " "Wall, ye see," said the story teller, " Dick come the pos- 
 sum over him — made b'lieve he wus drunk, though he warn't, 
 no more'n I ar ; but he tuk durned good keer ter see the ole 
 man get well slewed, he did. Wall, wen the ole feller wus 
 pooty well primed, Dick stuck his arm inter his'n, toted him 
 off ter the stable, and fotched out a ole, spavin'd, wind-galled, 
 used-up, broken-down critter, thet couldn't gwo a rod, 'cept ye 
 got another boss to haul him ; and says he : ' See thar ! thars 
 a perfect paragone o' hoss-flesh ; a raal Arab ; nimble's a 
 cricket ; sunder'n a nut ; gentler'n a cooin' dove, and faster'n a 
 tornado ! I doan't sell 'im fur nary fault, and ye couldn't buy 
 'im fur no price, ef I warn't hard put. Come, now, what d'ye 
 say ? I'll put 'im ter ye fur one fifty, an' its less'n he cost, it 
 ar ! ' "Wall, the ole man tuk — swollored the critter whole — 
 tuk him down without greasin', he did — ha ! ha ! " 
 
 " Ha ! ha ! " repeated the listening crowd, and " Yah ! 
 yah !.' echoed three or four well-dressed darkies, who were 
 standing near the doorway. " Sarved 'im right ; he'm a mean 
 ole cuss, he am," chimed in one of the latter gentry (who, I 
 saw, was the perfumed ebony who figured at the turkey match), 
 as he added another guffaw, and, swaying his body back and 
 forth, brought his hands down on his thighs with a concussion 
 
ON THE ROAD. 85 
 
 which sent a thick cloud of tobacco smoke, of his own manu- 
 facture, circling to the other side of the room. 
 
 When the merriment had somewhat" subsided, I stepped 
 toward the assemblage, and inquired if the landlord were pres- 
 ent. There was no reply for a few moments ; then one of the 
 embryo planters, speaking to a showily-dressed young man 
 near him, said : 
 
 11 Get up, and 'tend to the stranger. You arn't fit to tote 
 victuals to a nigger." 
 
 The young man rose very deliberately, and said : 
 
 " Want ter see the keeper, do ye ? " 
 
 M Yes, sir ; I want a room, and supper for two, at once." 
 
 " Room, and supper fur two ? " 
 
 " Yes ; a room with a fire and two beds." 
 
 u Whar d'ye come from ? " 
 
 u From Goldsboro' ; just in by the stage." 
 
 " Oh ! stage's in, is it ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir ; the stage is in. You'll oblige me by attending 
 to us at once ; we are hungry and tired." 
 
 He looked at me for a moment without speaking, then 
 leisurely walked out through the front door. Two or three of 
 the loungers followed, but the young gentleman who had first 
 spoken, rose, and politely tendered me a seat. Thanking him, 
 I took the chair vacated by the bartender, and proceeded to 
 warm my hands and limbs, which were thoroughly chilled -by 
 the long ride in the cold air. 
 
 " Cold, riding after nightfall, sir," said the young man, who 
 I now observed was the Mr. Gaston whom the trader had so 
 unceremoniously ejected from the shooting ground. 
 
 " Yes, sir ; it z's cold riding on the box." 
 
86 MY SOUTHERN FEIENDS. 
 
 " And our rattle-down coaches are so mighty slow. You 
 don't have such fixin's at the North." 
 
 M No, sir ; but why do you suppose I'm from the North ? 
 I've passed for a Southerner to-day." 
 
 " Oh ! I know you Yankees all to pieces ; I've lived among 
 you." 
 
 " At college, I suppose ? " 
 
 " Yes ; at Harvard." 
 
 " You graduated early." 
 
 u No, I didn't graduate, I left — left for my health. Ha ! 
 ha ! " and he broke into a merry fit of laughter, in which sev- 
 eral of his companions joined. 
 
 " Taken with sudden illness, as you were at the turkey 
 match, to-day ? " I inquired good-humoredly, and in a tone that 
 could not give offence. 
 
 " Yes ; the same disease, I swear. Ha ! ha ! " 
 
 " Ha ! ha ! " echoed his companions. 
 
 11 The stranger's inter ye, Gus — inter ye a feet ! Come, ye 
 must treat," shouted the teller of the horse story. 
 
 This last individual was tall, rawboned, and squarely built, 
 with broad, heavy features, and dull, cold, snake-like eyes. 
 His black, unkempt hair, and long, wiry beard, fell round his 
 face like tow round a mop handle ; and his coarse linsey 
 clothes, patched in many places, and smeared with tar and 
 tobacco juice, fitted him as they might have fitted a prolonged 
 pair of tongs. The legs of his pantaloons were thrust inside 
 his boots, and he wore a fuzzy woollen hat with battered crown 
 and broad flapping brim. He looked the very picture of an 
 ex-overseer under a cloud, or an itinerant sporting man, anx- 
 ious for something to turn up. 
 
ON THE BOAD. 87 
 
 I declined the proffered drink, but the company rose and 
 approached the counter, while, the young planter bade the bar- 
 tender, who had just reentered, " trot out the consolation." 
 
 u Down with the pewter, then, Mr. Gaston," said the liquor 
 vender. " No pay, no drinks, in this yere shanty." 
 
 The young man tossed him a half eagle. His companions 
 proceeded to imbibe a variety of compounds, while he poured 
 out nearly a glas3 full of raw whiskey, and drank it down at a 
 swallow. As he replaced the glass on the counter, a slatternly 
 negro woman thrust her head in at the doorway, saying : 
 
 " Dar's a 'ooman heah — a wite 'ooman, dat am 'ticler 
 anxyus fur de honor ob Mister Mulock's 'quaintance. She'm 
 in de sittin' room'." 
 
 " Thar's a call for you, Bony," said the young planter to 
 the story teller ; u some young woman with designs on your 
 landed possessions — ha ! ha ! " 
 
 Without replying, the other followed the serving woman, 
 from the bar room. He was the absconding polygamist for 
 whom the tobacco-chewing female had ventured all the way 
 from Chalk-Level. 
 
 " Is supper ready, sir ? " I asked of the bartender. 
 
 " Supper ? — I reckon so. Ye'd better go and see," was 
 the civil reply. 
 
 " "Where's the dining room ? " 
 
 " Over thar— 'tother side the hall." 
 
 Passing out of the room, I met Preston, and we proceeded 
 together to the supper table. When we were seated, I re- 
 marked : 
 
 " By the way, I have just seen the husband of our stage 
 coach acquaintance. He's a rum-looking customer." 
 
88 MY SOUTH E It N FRIENDS. 
 
 "Yes, I suppose he has taken to drinking again. The 
 whipping, and the loss of Phylly, have probably worked on 
 him." 
 
 " You don't mean to say he is Thylly's husband ? " 
 
 " Yes ; didn't I tell you ? " 
 
 "No. Two wives under one roof! "Well, that's more 
 than most white men can afford." 
 
 " That's a fact. It's an awkward business ; what had bet- 
 ter be done ? " 
 
 " Done ? "Why, let him go. You'll be vrell rid of him. 
 lie's a worthless fellow, or nature doesn't write English. I 
 read ' scoundrel ' all over his face." 
 
 " He has a bad nature ; but Phylly's influence on him is 
 good, and she loves him." 
 
 "Loves him ! "Well, there's no accounting for tastes." 
 
 " That's true," replied the Squire ; " but we all love those 
 to whom we do good. She married Mulock after nursing him 
 through a long illness, and has tamed him, though it was 
 taming a wolf." 
 
 "We soon left the table. Preston went into the sitting 
 room, while I resumed my seat by the bar-room fire. 
 
 I had nearly finished my evening cigar, when Preston came 
 into the office. Shaking hands with young Gaston and a num- 
 ber of the others, who all greeted him with marked respect, he 
 said to me : 
 
 " "What shall I do ? Mulock's wife will let him off, if I 
 pay her a hundred dollars." 
 
 " Pay her a hundred dollars ! " I exclaimed. 
 
 " Yes ; she'll release him to Phyllis for that — give a paper 
 to that effect. "What would you do ? " 
 
ON THE ROAD. 89 
 
 The idea was so ludicrous, that, in spite of the Squire's 
 serious manner, I burst into a fit of laughter. Between the 
 mirthful explosions I managed to say : 
 
 II Pardon me, Preston ; but I never before heard of selling 
 a husband — at so low a price. Ha ! ha ! Do not buy him ; 
 he isn't worth the moftey." Then, seeing that he appeared 
 hurt, I added : " "What does Phyllis say ? " 
 
 II I haven't told her. She'll feel badly to have him go ; 
 but it's not right for me to pay the money. I should pay my 
 debts first." 
 
 Mr. Gaston, whose attention had been attracted to our con- 
 versation by my rather boisterous merriment, now said, making 
 a strong effort to appear serious : 
 
 " Excuse me, Squire ; but what is it ? Has Mulock two 
 wives ; and does one offer to sell out for a hundred dollars ? " 
 
 " Yes," replied Preston, in a tone which showed a decided 
 disinclination to conversation. 
 
 " Buy him, then, Squire ; I'll give you twenty-five dollars 
 for the bargain, on the spot — I will, I swear ; " and, unable to 
 contain himself longer, he burst into an uproarious fit of merri- 
 ment, in which the by-sitters joined. 
 
 Preston's face darkened, and, in a grave voice, he said : 
 
 " Young man, you forget yourself. I am sorry to see you 
 so wanting in respect to others, and — yourself." 
 
 "I beg your pardon, Mr. Preston," replied Gaston, in an 
 apologetic tone; "I meant no offence, sir — upon my soul, I did 
 
 not. If Mulock is for sale for a " here his risibilities 
 
 again gave way — " for a hundred dollars, I'll buy him, for it's 
 cheap ; I swear it's cheap, seeing he's a white man." 
 
 Preston, by this time really angered, was about to make a 
 harsh reply, when I interrupted him : 
 
90 MY SOUTHERN FRIENDS. 
 
 " Never miiid, my friend ; let Mr Gaston buy him — he can 
 afford it. Do it, Gaston ; it will be both a capital joke and 
 a good action ; do it at once." 
 
 The glass of raw whiskey had somewhat " elevated " the 
 young planter, and my conscience demurred a little at the 
 advice I gave him ; but I recovered my usual self-complacency 
 on reflecting that he would undoubtedly put the money to a 
 much worse use. 
 
 Saying " D — d if I won't," Gaston drew forth his purse, 
 and counted out a number of half eagles. Finding he had not 
 enough, he turned to another young planter, and said : 
 
 11 Here, Bob, I'm short ; lend me fifty dollars." 
 
 11 Bob " produced his wallet, and, without counting them, 
 handed him a roll of bills. 
 
 " Now, stranger, come along ; I want you to draw up 
 the papers, and witness the trade — ha ! ha ! Is she in the par- 
 lor, Squire ? " 
 
 11 Yes," said Preston, taking the seat I had vacated. 
 
 The young man put his arm into mine, and we proceeded 
 to the " sitting room." 
 
 Mulock was seated before the fire, gazing intently at the 
 blaze. His wife sat opposite, speaking earnestly to him. 
 Every now and then she wetted a short piece of wood with 
 saliva, and, dipping it into a snuff bottle, mopped her teeth and 
 gums with the savory powder. She was— as her husband 
 might have said — a perfect " paragone " of " poor white " 
 womanhood, with all the accomplishments of her class — smok- 
 ing, chewing, and snuff dipping. 
 
 As we approached, she lifted her eyes, and Gaston said to 
 her • 
 
ON THE ROAD. 91 
 
 " Are you the lady who has a man for sale — a likely white . 
 man ? " 
 
 " Wall, stranger, I reckon I'm the 'ooman. Tliet ar feller's 
 my husband, an' he karn't git off 'cept I git a hundred dollars." 
 
 * Will you give a bill of sale, releasing all your right, title, 
 and interest in him to me, if I pay you a hundred dollars ? " 
 
 " Yes, I wull ; ter ye, or ter onybody." 
 
 " Wall, now," continued Gaston, imitating her tone, " karn't 
 ye take a trifle less'n thet — eighty, or so ? " 
 
 " No, stranger ; nary dime under thet. I'm gol-durned ef 
 I does." 
 
 " Well, Mulock, what do you say ? Are you willing to be 
 sold ? " 
 
 " I hain't willin' ter be laff'd at by ye, nor nobody else," 
 replied Mulock, rising, and turning fiercely on the planter. 
 " I'll larrup the d — d 'ooman onyhow, and ye, too, ef ye say 
 much more." 
 
 " Come, Mulock," said the young man, coolly, but firmly, 
 " be civil, or I'll let daylight through you before you're a min- 
 ute older. I'm disposed to do you a good turn, but you must 
 be civil, by ." 
 
 " Wall, do as ye likes, Gus ; onything'll suit me," replied 
 Mulock, resuming his previous position. 
 
 " But, d — n you, if I spend a hundred on you, you must go 
 to work like a man, and try to pay it. I wouldn't do it, any- 
 how, if it warn't for Phylly." 
 
 " But Phylly's gone," said Mulock, in a dejected tone ; 
 " gone — toted off by thet d — d trader. If I hadn't a ben in 
 the cussed jug, I'd a killed him." 
 
 " No, she isn't gone ; she's here — Preston's bought her." 
 
92 MY SOUTHERN FRIENDS. 
 
 Mulock sprang to his feet ; his dull, cold eye lighted, and, 
 seizing the young man by the arm, he exclaimed: 
 
 11 Doan't ye lie ter me, Gus ; is she yere ? " 
 
 " Yes, so Bob says ; he saw her get out of the stage." 
 
 Mulock made no reply, but strode toward the door. Gas- 
 ton said quickly : 
 
 u Hold on, Bony ; don't vamose just yet. D — d if I'll 
 help you out of this, if you don't promise to work like an hon- 
 est fellow to pay me." 
 
 " I will, Gus ; I'll leave off drinkin' ter onst ; I'll work day 
 and night, I will." 
 
 " Well, my rustic beauty, are you ready to sign a bill of 
 sale ? " 
 
 " Yas ; but I reckon, bein' as ye set so ( high on Bony, ye 
 kin go a trifle more'n thet — jest the 'spenses down yere ? " 
 
 " Not another red," said Gaston. 
 
 11 Wall, he ain't of no account, nohow ; I reckon he ain't 
 wuth no more. Count out th' pewter." 
 
 I procured writing materials from the bar room, and in a 
 few moments drew up a paper, by which, in consideration of 
 one hundred dollars to her in hand that day paid, Jane Mulock, 
 of Chalk-Level, in the county of Harnet, and State of North 
 Carolina, did sell, assign, transfer, make over, convey, and for- 
 ever quit claim unto Phyllis Preston, otherwise known as 
 Phyllis Mulock, of the town of Newbern, in the county of 
 Craven, and State aforesaid, all her right, title, and interest in 
 and to the body, soul, wearing apparel, and other possessions, 
 of one Napoleon Bonaparte Mulock, whom the said Jane 
 charged with being her husband ; and also all claims or de- 
 mands she had on him for a support, she binding herself never 
 
ON THE EOAD. 93 
 
 to institute any suit or suits against him in any court of the 
 State of North Carolina, or of any other State, or of the 
 United States, for the crime of bigamy, or for any other crime, 
 misdemeanor, or abomination committed against herself at any 
 time prior to the date of said instrument. In testimony 
 whereof, she, the said Jane Mulock, did sign the sign of the 
 cross, and affix her seal to a half sheet of dirty paper, whereto 
 Gustavus A. Gaston, and the writer hereof, were witnesses. 
 
 Both Mulock and his wife thought the instrument a valid 
 one. He again took Phyllis to his bosom, and Jane, I have 
 been told, married another husband. In view of the latter 
 fact, I have never been able to wholly satisfy my conscience 
 for the part I took in the transaction. 
 
CHAPTEE VII. 
 
 SLAVE MOTHER. 
 
 While we were at breakfast on the following morning, 
 Preston said to me : 
 
 " I think I had better leave Phylly and Rosey here till I 
 can consult with my wife. "We have house servants enough, 
 and Phylly can't work in the field. It may be advisable to 
 have her remain in Newbern." 
 
 "And what will you do with the yellow boy ? " 
 
 11 Oh ! take him with us. There's always something the 
 little fellows can do. "We'll call at his mother's, and get him." 
 
 "We decided to set out for the plantation at once, and Pres- 
 ton ordered a livery wagon to be got in readiness. "While we 
 were waiting for it, I walked out upon the piazza. I had not 
 been there long, before "young Joe" — Preston's only son — 
 rode up to the hotel. He was a manly lad, about twelve years 
 of age, and in form, features, and manners, a miniature edition 
 of his father. He had grown amazingly since at my house, 
 two years before, and I did not at once recognize him ; but as 
 he caught sight of me, he shouted out in boyish glee, throwing 
 his bridle over the hitching post, and springing to the ground : 
 
 " Oh ! Mr. Kirke. I'm so glad you've come ; mother will 
 be so glad to see you. "We'll have such a nice time." 
 
A SLAVE JIOTUtE, 95 
 
 u Why, Joe, I thought you were at home I " 
 
 " Oh ! no. I'm here at school j but father says I shall 
 have a vacation while you're here. Why didn't you fetch 
 Frank ? You promised you would." 
 
 " I know I did, Joe ; but his mother wouldn't let him come. 
 She thinks he's too young to travel." 
 
 " Pshaw ! He's old enough — 'most as old as I am. But 
 never mind, Mr. Kirke ; we'll have a fine time, hunting and 
 fishing, and going to the races. They're to have a big one 
 over to Trenton next week, and I'm bound to go. It's so 
 lucky you've come." 
 
 11 Lord bless you, Joe ! I never was at a race, and never 
 shot a gun in my life. Besides, I can remain only a day or 
 two." 
 
 11 Oh ! yes, you can. Father says you Yorkers are always 
 in a hurry ; but you must take it easy now. I'll show you 
 round, and learn you the ropes." 
 
 While I was laughing at the enthusiasm of the lad, the 
 wagon drove up, and, Preston soon appearing, we entered 
 it, and drove off. As Joe bounded upon his spirited horse and 
 led the way down the elm-shaded street, I said to his father : 
 
 " How that boy rides ! He's a perfect Centaur." 
 
 11 Yes, he is a good horseman ; he's been trained to it. 
 You know we think manly exercises an essential part of a 
 gentleman's education." 
 
 " And you let Joe Igeep his own horse ? " 
 
 " Yes ; it's awfully expensive ; but old Joe raised the colt 
 for the boy, and I couldn't deny him." 
 
 We rode on to the outskirts of the town, and stopped be- 
 fore a small, tumble-down shanty, built of rough boards, and 
 
96 MY SOUTHERN FRIENDS. 
 
 roofed with the same material. In the narrow front yard, a 
 large iron pot, supported on two upright poles, was steaming 
 over a light wood fire. The boiling clothes it contained were 
 being stirred by a brawny, coal-black negro woman, with an 
 arm like the Farnese Hercules, and a form as stout as Wouter 
 Van Twiller's. The yellow boy, Ally, was heaping wood on 
 the fire. 
 
 u How do you do, aunty ? " said Preston, as we drew up at 
 the rickety gate. 
 
 "Right smart, massa, right smart," replied the woman; 
 then, turning round and recognizing the Squire, she added : 
 "Oh! massa Preston, am dat 'ou? Oh! Pse so 'joiced 'ou 
 got Ally ; I'se so 'joiced ! De Lord yere my prayer, massa ; 
 de Lord yere my prayer. I feel like I die wid joy, de Lord so 
 good ter me. Oh ! He'm so good ter me ! " 
 
 " The Lord is good to all who love Him. He never fails 
 those that trust in Him," said Preston, solemnly. 
 
 " No more'n He doan't, massa ; no more'n He doan't. De 
 good missus tole me dat jess wen dey toted de pore chile 'way ; 
 but I couldn't b'lieve it, massa ; I couldn't b'lieve it. It 
 'peared like I neber'd see 'im agin — neber'd see 'im agin ; but 
 I prayed de Lord, massa — I prayed de Lord all de time — all 
 de time dat de chile wus 'way : I hab no sleep, I eat 'most 
 nuffin, an' my heart grow so big, I fought it would clean 
 broke ; but lass night, massa, jess wen it 'peared like I couldn't 
 stan' it no more — wen I wus a cryin' an' a groanin' to de Lord 
 wid all my might, den, massa, de Lord He hard me, an' He 
 open de door, an' de little chile run in, an' he put him arms 
 round my neck, an' he telled me I need neber cry no more, 
 'case de good massa had got him ! Oh ! it wus too much, 
 
A SLAVE MOTHER. 97 
 
 massa, fur 'ou's so good — de Lord's so good, massa ! Oh ! I 
 feel like I should die ob joy." Here she sat down on a rude 
 bench near by, covered her face with her apron, and sobbed 
 like a child. Preston's eyes filled with tears, but, brushing 
 them hastily away, he asked, as if to change the subject : 
 
 " Did you say the ' missus ' had been down ? " 
 
 " Yas, massa ; de good missus come down jess so soon as 
 she hard Phylly war sold ; an' wen she fine Ally war gwine 
 too. she come ter see de ole 'ooman — she did, massa — and she 
 try to comfut har. She say de good Lord would fotch Ally 
 back, an' He hab, massa ! Oh ! He hab." 
 
 "Well, Dinah, what shall we do with Ally? Do you 
 want him to go to the plantation?" •< 
 
 " Oh ! yas, massa ; I want de chile ter be wid 'ou. I'd 
 rudder he'd be wid 'ou, massa ; but, massa " — and she spoke 
 timidly, and with hesitation — " 'ou knows ole massa promise 
 ter sell Ally ter me — ter sell 'im ter me wen I'd a sabed up 
 'nuff ter buy 'im. An' will 'ou, massa, will 'ou ? " 
 
 " Yes, Dinah ; of course I will," said Preston. 
 
 " Oh ! bress 'ou, massa ; bress 'ou. It'm so good ob 'ou — 
 so good ob 'ou, massa ; " and she sobbed harder than before. 
 
 " How much have you saved, aunty ? " 
 
 " A hun'red and firteen dollar, massa ; an' dar's some 
 more'n dat massa Blackwell am ter gib fur usin' on it. Massa 
 Blackwell's got it. How much shill I pay fur Ally, massa ? " 
 
 " Well, I don't know ; the trader offered three hundred for 
 him. You may have him for half that." 
 
 " How much'm dat, massa ? " 
 
 " A hundred and fifty dollars." 
 
 11 He'm wuth more'n dat, massa Preston ; ole massa say 
 5 
 
98 MY SOUTIIEKJtf FRIENDS. 
 
 Ally wuth two hun'red an' fifty, or three hun'red, ob any folks' 
 money. He'ni a likely boy, massa." 
 
 " Yes, I know that ; I don't mean to undervalue him. I 
 wouldn't sell him to any one else for less than three hundred 
 
 dollars." 
 
 " Oh ! tank 'ou, massa ; it'm good ob 'ou — bery good ob 
 'ou, massa ; " and again her apron found the way to her eyes. 
 
 " Well," said Preston, after a moment's thought, " I think 
 you'd better take him now, aunty. I'm in some trouble, and 
 it's uncertain how things will turn with me ; so you'd better 
 take him n<3w." 
 
 M But I hain't money 'nuff, now, massa." 
 
 " Well, never mind ; pay the rest when you can, but don't 
 scrimp yourself as you have, Dinah ; I shan't mind if you 
 never pay it." The woman seemed bewildered, but said noth- 
 ing ; she evidently was unaccustomed to Preston's moBe of 
 doing business. I mentioned to him that he could not give a 
 conveyance of the negro boy until the judgment against him 
 was cancelled. 
 
 " True," he replied ; " I didn't think of that. Shall we 
 attend to it now ? " 
 
 " Yes, the sooner the better ; further costs may accumulate 
 if you delay." 
 
 Preston told the negro woman to meet him at eleven 
 o'clock, at the store of the person who had charge of her 
 money, and we rode at once to the " Old State Bank." It 
 was previous to banking hours, but as the cashier resided in 
 the building, we soon secured notes in exchange for Preston's 
 draft on me, and in less than an hour had the judgment satis- 
 fied, and Ally's free papers properly made out and executed. 
 
A SLAVE MOTHER. 99 
 
 It was not quite ten o'clock when, as we were leaving the 
 attorney's office, we noticed the slave woman and her son 
 seated on the steps of Mr. Blackweli's store opposite. 
 
 " Are you all ready, aunty ? " asked Preston. 
 
 " Yas, massa, I'se all ready ; I'se got de gole all heah," she 
 replied, holding up a small canvas bag; "a hun'red an' twenty- 
 sevin dollar an' firty cents — so massa Blackwell say ; I karn't 
 reckon so much as dat, massa." 
 
 The woman had on a clean white neckerchief, and a bran 
 new pair of brogans, and had made an effort to spruce up for 
 the interview, but she still wore the tattered red and yellow 
 turban, and the thin Osnaburg gown — clean, but patched in 
 many places, in which she was arrayed when over the wash 
 kettle. 
 
 The merchant then came to the door, and invited us in. 
 Preston handed him the papers to examine, and we all entered 
 the store. As the woman laid the gold on the counter, I said 
 to her : 
 
 " Aunty, how long have you been in saving this money ? " 
 
 " Four year, massa. Ole massa wouldn't 'gree ter sell de 
 chile till four year ago." 
 
 • " And you've hired your time, and earned this by washing 
 and ironing ? " 
 
 " Yas, sar ; I'se had ter pay massa a hun'red and fiity dol- 
 lar ebery year, 'sides twenty fur rent ; an' I'se had ter work 
 bery hard, of'en till 'way inter de night ; but I wanted to hab 
 de chile free, massa." 
 
 " And have you had no husband to help you ? " 
 
 " No, massa ; I neber had none ; I neber tuk ter de men 
 folks." 
 
100 MY SOUTHERN FRIENDS. 
 
 She was, as I have said, of a coal-black complexion, while 
 Ally's skin was a bright yellow. His father, therefore, must 
 have been a white man. 
 
 11 You have worked very hard, no doubt, aunty. Are these 
 the best clothes you have ? " 
 
 " Yas, massa ; dese am all I'se got." 
 
 " Well, here are ten dollars ; buy yourself some for the 
 winter." 
 
 " Oh ! tank 'ou, massa. 'Ou's too good, massa ; I tank 'ou 
 bery much ; but 'ou'U leff me gib dis ter de Squire, massa, 
 'on't 'ou ? I wants ter pay fur Ally." 
 
 "Yes, if he will take it," I replied, for I felt sure he would not. 
 
 The merchant had examined the documents, and Preston 
 had counted the money and put it in his pocket, when, handing 
 the papers to Dinah, the Squire said : 
 
 " Now, aunty, Ally's free, and I hope he'll grow up a good 
 boy, and worthy of such a mother." 
 
 " Oh ! he will dat, massa ; he'm a good chile ; but heah'm 
 ten dollar more, massa — it'm de good gemman's, an' he say I 
 kin gib it ter 'ou fur Ally." 
 
 Preston laughed. " I heard what he said. I can't take it, 
 Dinah. You need it for winter clothing. I'll take the risk* 
 of what you owe me." 
 
 Thft shopkeeper said : 
 
 " Take it, Squire ; I'll let Dinah have what she needs from 
 the store ; she knows her credit is good with me." 
 
 " "Well," said Preston, taking the money, " this makes one 
 hundred and thirty-seven dollars and thirty cents. You need 
 not pay any more, Dinah ; Ally is yours now" 
 
 11 Oh ! am Ally free, massa ? Am de chile free ? " she 
 
A SLAVE MOTHER. 101 
 
 exclaimed, taking him in her arms, and bursting into a hyster- 
 ical fit of weeping. 
 
 Every eye was wet, but no one spoke. At last Dinah said : 
 
 " But, massa Preston, I wants 'ou ter take de chile. I 
 wants 'ou ter fotch 'im up. I karn't lam 'im nuffin. I doan't 
 know nuffin, massa. He kin git lamin' wid 'ou." 
 
 " But he's all you have. At home he'll be a help and a 
 comfort to you." 
 
 " I doan't want no help, massa. He'm free now ; I 
 doan't want no help no more." 
 
 " Well, aunty, I'll take him, and pay you twenty dollars a 
 year, till he's fifteen. He's twelve, now, isn't he ? " 
 
 u A'most twelve, massa, a'most. But 'ou needn't pay me 
 nuffin ; jess gib de chile what you likes. And, massa, 'ou'll 
 speak ter Boss Joe 'bout 'im, woan't 'ou ? 'Ou'll ax 'im ter 
 see Ally gwoes ter de meetin's, an' larns suffin out ob de books, 
 woan't 'ou, massa ? I wants him ter know suffin." 
 
 11 Yes, I will, Dinah ; and I'll keep an eye on him myself." 
 
 " Tank 'ou, massa ; an' p'raps 'ou'll leff de chile come 
 down ter see 'im ole mammy once'n a while ? " 
 
 " Yes, I will — once a month. Come, now, Dinah, get into 
 the wagon ; we go right by your house." 
 
 "We stepped into the vehicle, and drove off. When we 
 reached the shanty, the negress got out, and, amid a shower of 
 blessings from her, we rode on to the plantation. For four 
 long years she had worked fifteen hours a day, and denied her- 
 self every comfort, to buy her child ; and when, at last, she 
 had secured his freedom, she was willing to part from him, 
 that he might " lam suffin out ob de books." Has not her 
 wretched race the instincts and feelings that make us human ? 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THE PLANTATION. 
 
 It was a clear, cold, sunshiny day — one of those days so 
 peculiar to the Southern climate, when the blood bounds 
 through every vein as if thrilled by electricity, and a man of 
 lively temperament can scarcely restrain his legs from dancing 
 a "breakdown.". "We rode rapidly on through a timbered 
 country, where the tall trees grew up close by the roadside, 
 locking their huge arms high in the air, and the long, graceful 
 black moss hung, like mourning drapery, from the great branches. 
 The green pine-tassels carpeted the ground, and breathed a 
 grateful odor around us ; and the soft autumn wind swayed the 
 tops of the old trees, and sang a pleasant song over our heads. 
 Every pine bore the scars of the turpentine axe, and here and 
 there, in a patch of woods, a negro gang was gathering the "last 
 dipping ; " and now and then, in an open clearing, a poor 
 planter was at work with a few field hands. Occasionally we 
 forded a small stream, where, high up on the bank, was a rude 
 ferry, which served in the rainy season as a miserable substi- 
 tute for a bridge ; and once in a while, far back from the road, 
 we caught sight of an old country seat, whose dingy, unpainted 
 walls, broken-down fences, and dilapidated surroundings, re- 
 minded one that shiftless working men, and careless, reckless 
 
THE PLANTATION. 103 
 
 proprietors are the natural products of slavery. Thus we rode 
 on for several hours, till, turning a slight bend in the road, we 
 suddenly halted before the gateway of my friend's plantation. 
 I had observed, for half a mile, that the woods which lined the 
 wayside were clear of underbrush, the felled trees trimmed, 
 and their branches carefully piled in heaps ; and the rails, v 
 which in other places straggled about in the road, were doing 
 their appropriate duty on the fences ; and I said to Preston : 
 
 " I am glad to see you are as good at planting as at preach- 
 mg." 
 
 " Bless you ! " he replied, "it isn't me; it's Joe. Joe is 
 acknowledged the best farmer in Jones county." 
 
 At the gateway we received a greeting unknown the 
 world over, outside of a Southern plantation. Perched on the 
 fences, swinging on the gate, and hanging in the trees, were 
 a score of young ebonies, of both sexes, who, as we came 
 in sight, set up a chorus of discordant shouts that made the 
 woods ring. Among the noises, I made out : " Gorry ! 
 massa'm come." " Dar dey is." " Dat'm de strange gem- 
 man." u How's 'ou, massa ? " " Glad 'ou's come, massa ; 
 'peared like we'd neber see 'ou no more, massa ; " and a multi- 
 tude of similar exclamations, which told unmistakably the 
 kind of discipline to which they were accustomed. The 
 young chattels are infallible plantation barometers — they in- 
 dicate the true state of the weather. One may never see 
 among the older slaves of a cruel master any but pleasant 
 faces, for they know the penalty of surliness before a stranger ; 
 but the little darkies cannot be restrained. They will slink 
 away into by-corners or scamper eut of sight whenever their 
 owner appears, if he does not treat them kindly. 
 
104 MY SOUTH E EN FSISNDS. 
 
 ¥ Massa's well. Are you all well ? " 
 
 11 Yes, massa, we's right smart j an' all on we's good little 
 nigs eber sence 'ou's 'way." 
 
 " I'm glad to hear it. Now scamper to the house, and tell 
 1 missus ' we're coming." 
 
 " Missus knows 'ou's comin', massa ; massa Joe am dar ; 
 missus knows 'ou's comin'." 
 
 A short drive throgh a narrow winding avenue, strewn with 
 leaves, and shaded with the long branches of the pine, the oak, 
 and the holly, brought us to the mansion, which stood on a 
 gentle mound in the midst of a green lawn, sloping down to a 
 small lake. It had once been a square, box-like structure ; but 
 Preston had so transformed it, that, but for its rustic surround- 
 ings, and the thick groups of giant evergreens which clustered 
 at its sides, it might have been taken for a suburban villa. 
 Projecting eaves, large dormers, which sprang out from the 
 roof-line and rested on a broad porch and balcony, a rustic 
 porte cochere, and here and there a vine-covered bay or oriole 
 window, broke up the regularity of its outline, and proclaimed 
 its designer a true poet — and poetry, nowadays, is more often 
 written on the walls of country houses, than in the corners of 
 country newspapers. 
 
 Excepting the field hands, nearly all of the "family" had 
 gathered to witness our arrival ; but there was no shouting or 
 noisy demonstration. After he had greeted Mrs. Preston and 
 his two little daughters — his twin roses, as he called them — my 
 host turned to the assembled negroes, and gave each one his 
 hand and a kind word. The hearty " Lord bress 'ou, good 
 massa! " and " Glad 'ou's c«me, massa," which broke from all 
 of them, would have gladdened the heart of even the bitterest 
 
THE PLANTATION. 105 
 
 opponent of the peculiar institution. One old woman, whose 
 head was white as snow, and whose bent form showed great 
 age, sat on a lower step of the porch, surrounded by a cluster 
 of children. Her mistress raised her to her feet as Preston 
 approached ; and, throwing her trembling arms around his 
 neck, she sobbed out : 
 
 " Oh ! massa Robert, ole nussy am happy now ; shell 
 neber leff 'ou gwo 'way agin." 
 
 Mrs. Preston shortly turned to lead the way into the house. 
 As she did so, I noticed peeping from out the folds of her 
 dress, where she had shyly hid away, a younger child, of 
 strange and wonderful beauty. She had not, like the others, 
 the fair complexion and pure Grecian features of her mother. 
 Her skin was dark, and her hair, which fell in glossy curls over 
 her neck, was a rich golden brown. Her cheeks seemed two 
 rose leaves thinly sprinkled with snow ; her eyes, coals which 
 held a smouldering flame. Her face was one of those caught 
 now and then by the old painters — a thing dreamed of, but 
 seldom seen : the pure expression of an ideal loveliness 
 which is not of the earth. I reached out my hands to her, 
 and said : 
 
 11 Come here, my little one. This is one I have not seen, 
 Mrs. Preston." 
 
 " No, sir ; we have never taken her North ; she is too 
 young. Go to the gentleman, my pet." 
 
 The child came timidly to me, and suffered me to lift her in 
 my arms. 
 
 " And what is your name, my little one ? " * 
 
 " Selly, sar," she replied, with the soft, mellow accent 
 which the planter's children acquire from the negroes. 
 5* 
 
106 MY SOUTHERN FRIENDS. 
 
 " "What an odd name ! " I remarked. 
 
 " Yes, sir, it is singular. Her full name is Selma," replied 
 her mother. 
 
 "What! who have we here?" exclaimed Preston, as he 
 turned away from the negroes, and stepped up on the piazza. 
 
 " Why, it's Selly, Robert. Don't you know your own 
 child ? " 
 
 Preston took the little girl in his arms, and said, with some 
 feeling : 
 
 " It's like you, Lucy. No man ever had a wife like mine, 
 Kirke." 
 
 " No one but Mr. Kirke himself, you mean, Robert," re- 
 plied the lady, smiling, and then adding : 
 
 " Selly has been in Newbern for a time. Mr. Preston did 
 not expect to find her at home." 
 
 We entered the house, and, taking seats in the drawing 
 room, awaited dinner. We had not been there long before 
 u Master Joe" burst into the apartment, exclaiming: 
 
 " Come, Mr. Kirke, Joe is outside ; he wants to see you. 
 Come." 
 
 M Tell Joe to wait. Don't disturb Mr. Kirke now," said 
 his father. 
 
 " Oh ! no, Preston ; let me see him at once ; " and, rising, 
 I followed the lad from the room. 
 
 Joe was a dark-colored mulatto man, about fifty years of 
 age. He was dressed in a suit of " butternut homespun," and 
 held in his hand the ordinary slouched hat worn by the " na- 
 tives." His hair — the short, crispy wool of the African — was 
 sprinkled with gray, and he had the thick lips and broad, 
 heavy features of his race. Nearly six feet high, he was 
 
THE PLANTATION. 107 
 
 stoutly and compactly built, and, but for a disproportion in the 
 size of his legs, one of which was smaller and two or three 
 inches shorter than the other, might have rated as a " prime 
 field hand." But a high, well-developed forehead, and a clear, 
 intelligent eye, together with a certain self-possessed manner, 
 indicated that he was more than an ordinary negro. 
 
 " Here, Joe ; here's Mr. Kirke. Make your best bow, old 
 fellow," shouted the lad, as he sprang out upon the piazza. 
 Joe, making the requisite bow, said : 
 
 " I'se bery glad ter see you, Mr. Kirke." 
 
 " I'm very glad to see you, Joseph. I feel well acquainted 
 with you," I replied, cordially. 
 
 " I feels well 'quainted wid you, sar. I'se wanted ter see 
 you bery much, Mr. Kirke. You'll 'scuse my 'sturbin' you ; 
 but de boy" — and he laid his hand on the lad's head — " 'sisted 
 on my comin' ter onst." 
 
 Before I could reply, his master came out of the house. 
 
 "Welcome home, massa Robert," said the black man, to 
 whom Preston gave his hand, and who then added, in a quick, 
 anxious tone: "What luck in Virginny ? Did you do it; 
 massa Robert ? " 
 
 " No," said Preston ; " I couldn't get a dollar—not a dol- 
 lar, Joe." 
 
 " I feared dat— I feared dat, massa Robert. Nobody keer 
 nuffin fur you but ole Joe— nobody but ole Joe, massa Robert ! " 
 His eyes moistened, and he spoke in an inexpressibly tender 
 tone — the tone of a mother when speaking to her child. 
 
 " Nobody but Mr. Kirke, Joe. He has paid the judg- 
 ment ! " 
 
 "Bress you, Mr. Kirke! de Lord bress you, sar. But 
 
108 MY SOUTHERN FBISNDS. 
 
 dar's more, you knows, massa Robert. You tole Mr. Kirke 
 'bout deui ? " 
 
 " No, Joe. I should have done it ; but I couldn't." 
 
 " P'raps Mr. Kirke wouldn't hab paid dat, if he'd a know'd 
 de whole ! " said Joe, in a hesitating tone. 
 
 11 Undoubtedly I would, Joe. It's no great matter, I'm 
 sure," I replied. 
 
 " Well, Joe, never mind this now. We'll talk affairs all 
 over with Mr. Kirke before he goes," said Preston. 
 
 " Dat's right, massa Robert ; gemnian like Mr. Kirke 
 knows 'bout dese tings better'n you nor me." 
 
 Preston nodded assent, and we reentered the mansion 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 PLANTATION MANAGEMENT. 
 
 After dinner, we rode over my friend's plantation. It 
 contained about twelve hundred acres, mainly covered with 
 forest trees, but with here and there an isolated patch of 
 cleared land devoted to corn and cotton. A small tributary of 
 the Trent formed its northern boundary, and bordering the 
 little stream was a tract of three hundred acres of low, 
 swampy ground, heavily timbered with cypress and juniper. 
 Tall old pines, denuded of bark for one third of their height, 
 and their white faces bearded with long;, shining flakes of 
 " scrape turpentine," crowned the uplands ; and scattered 
 among them, about a hundred well-clad, " well-kept " negro 
 men and women were shouting pleasantly to one another, or 
 singing merrily some simple song of " Ole Car'lina," as with 
 the long scrapers they peeled the glistening scales from the 
 scarified trees, or, gathering them in their aprons, "dumped" 
 them into the rude barrels prepared for their reception. Pres- 
 ton had a kind word for each one as we passed — a pleasant 
 inquiry about an infirm mother or a sick child, or some encour- 
 aging comment on their cheerful work ; and many were the 
 hearty blessings they showered upon " good massa," and many 
 their good-natured exclamations over " de strange gemman dat 
 sell massa's truck." 
 
110 MY SOUTHERN FRIENDS. 
 
 11 He'm de kine, 'ou gals," shouted an old daiky, bent 
 nearly double with age, who, leaning against one of the bar- 
 rels, was "packing down" the flakes as they were- emptied 
 from the aprons of the women : " He'm de kine, I tell by him 
 eye ; de rocks doan't grow fass ter dat gemman's pocket ! " 
 
 " Well, they don't, uncle," I replied, tossing him a half- 
 dollar piece, and throwing a handful of smaller coin among the 
 women. A general scramble followed, in which the old fellow 
 nimbly joined, shouting out between his boisterous explosions 
 of merriment : 
 
 " Dis am de sort, massa ; dis am manna rainin' in de wil- 
 derness — de Lord's chil'ren lub dis kine ; it'm good ter take, 
 massa, good ter take." 
 
 "Good as black jack, eh, uncle?" I inquired, laughing, 
 for I saw certain lines about his shrunken mouth, and under- 
 neath his sunken eyes, which told plainly he was rather 
 too familiar with that delicious compound of strychnine and 
 whiskey. 
 
 " Yas, massa, good as black Jack ; dat's my name, massa, 
 dat's my name — yah ! yah ! " and he turned his face, wet with 
 merry tears, and distended in an uncommonly broad grin, up 
 to mine. In a moment, however, his eye caught Preston's. 
 His broad visage collapsed, his distended mouth shrank to a 
 very diminutive opening, and his twinkling eyes assumed a 
 peculiarly stolid expression, as he added, in a deprecatory tone : 
 
 " No, massa Robert, I doan't mean black jack — I doan't 
 mean dat ; 'ou knows I doan't keer fur him ; 'ou knows I 
 doan't knows him no more, massa Robert." 
 
 " I am glad you don't know him," replied Preston, playing 
 on his name. " He's a hardened old sinner. But you know 
 
PLANTATION MANAGEMENT. Ill 
 
 better than to ask presents of strangers. Give it back to the 
 gentleman at once." 
 
 An indescribable expression stole over the old negro's vis- 
 age as he thrust his hand through his thin, frosty wool, looked 
 pleadingly up in his master's face, and, seeing no signs of re- 
 lenting there, slowly and reluctantly opened his palm, and 
 tendered me the money. 
 
 11 No, no, Preston, let him keep it ; it won't do him any 
 harm," I said. 
 
 " No more'n it woan't, good massa — not a morsel ob 
 harm," exclaimed the darky, his small eyes twinkling again 
 with pleasurable anticipation, and his broad face widening 
 into its accustomed grin ; "I woan't take nary drop, massa 
 Robert, nary drop." 
 
 ""Well," said his master, "you can keep it, if you'll prom- 
 ise not to drink it up to-morrow. So much whiskey would 
 spoil your prayer at the meeting." 
 
 " So it 'ould, massa Robert — so much as dat ; but Jack 
 allers prays de stronger fur a little, massa Robert — jess a little ; 
 it sort o' 'pears ter warm up de ole man's sperrets, and ter fotch 
 all de 'votion right inter him froat." 
 
 " I suppose it does — all the devotion you ever feel. You're 
 past praying for, I fear. Jack," replied Preston, good-naturedly, 
 turning his horse to go. 
 
 " Not pass prayin' fur 'ou, massa Robert, not pass dat ; an' 
 ole Jack neber will be, nudder — not so long as he kin holler 
 loud 'nuff fur de Lord ter yere. 'Ou may 'pend on dat, massa 
 Robert, 'ou may 'pend on dat." 
 
 As we rode away, I asked Preston if the old black led the 
 services at the negro meetings. 
 
112 MY SOUTHERN FRIENDS. 
 
 u Yes, I am obliged to let him. He was formerly the 
 plantation preacher, and, with all his faults, the blacks are 
 much attached to him. A small rebellion broke out among 
 them, five years ago, when I displaced him, and put Joe into 
 the pulpit. I compromised the difficulty by agreeing that 
 Jack should lead in prayer every Sunday morning. They 
 think he has a gift that way, and you would conclude the day 
 of Pentecost had come, if you should hear him when he is 
 about half-seas-over." 
 
 " Then he does pray better for a little whiskey ? n 
 
 " Yes ; a mug of ' black jack' helps him amazingly." 
 
 After a two hours' circuit of the plantation, we halted in 
 the vicinity of the distilleries, which stood huddled together on 
 the bank of the little stream of which I have spoken. There 
 were three of them, each of thirty barrels' capacity — an enor- 
 mous size — and they were neatly set in brick, and enclosed in 
 a substantial framed structure, which was weatherboarded, and 
 coated with paint of a dark brown color. Near the only one 
 then in operation were several large heaps of flake turpentine, 
 three or four hundred barrels of rosin, and a vast quantity of 
 the same material scattered loosely about and mixed with bro- 
 ken staves, worn-out strainers, and the debris of the rosin bins. 
 Pointing to the confused mass, I said to my host : 
 
 " I've half a mind to turn missionary. I feel a sort of call 
 to preach to you Southern heathen." 
 
 "X wish you would," he rejoined; "you'd give me a 
 chance to laugh at your sermons, as you have laughed at 
 mine." 
 
 " No, you wouldn't laugh. I'd make you feel way down 
 in your pocket. I'd have but one sermon and one text, and 
 
PLANTATION MANAGEMENT. 113 
 
 that would be : ' Gather up the fragments, that nothing be 
 lost.' You Southern nabobs do nothing but waste. You 
 waste enough in one day, to feed the whole North for a week. 
 It's a sin — the unpardonable sin — for you know better." 
 
 " Well, it is wrong ; but how can we help it ? We can't 
 make the negroes anything but what they are — shiftless, and 
 careless of everything but their own ease." 
 
 " I don't know about that. I think such a man as Joe 
 ought to be able to manage them." 
 
 " Joe ! Well, he can't — he's all drive. And negroes are 
 human beings ; they should be treated kindly." 
 
 We had approached the front of the still, and were fasten- 
 ing our horses to the trunk of a tree, when we heard loud 
 voices issuing from the other side of the enclosure. 
 
 " Here'rn what I owes you. Now pack off ter onst, and 
 don't neber show your face on dis plantation no more," said a 
 voice, which I at once recognized as that of " boss Joe." 
 
 " I shan't pack off till I'm ready, you d — d black nigger. 
 I've been bossed 'bout by ye long 'miff. Clar out, and 'tend 
 ter yer own 'fairs," rejoined another voice, which had the tone 
 of a white man's. 
 
 " I reckon dis am my 'fair, an' I shan't leff you git drunk, 
 and burn up no more white rosin yere ; so take yerself off. 
 Ef you doan't, I'll make you blacker nor I is." 
 
 " Put yer hand on me, and I'll take the law on ye, shore" 
 returned the white man. 
 
 " Pshaw, you drunken fool ! does you s'pose dese darkies 'ould 
 tell on me ? Ef dey 'ould, dar word ain't 'lowed in de law ; 
 so you trabble. I doan't keer ter handle you, but 1 shill, ef you 
 don't leab widin five minutes." 
 
114 MY SOUTHERN FBIENDS. 
 
 What might have followed will not go down in his- 
 tory, for just then Preston and I, emerging from around the 
 corner of the building, appeared in view of the belligerents. 
 The native — a fair specimen of the class of poor whites — 
 stood in a defiant attitude before the still-fire, while Joe was 
 seated on a turpentine barrel near, quietly noting the time by 
 a large silver watch which he held in his hand. He kept on 
 counting the minutes, and gave no heed to his master's ap- 
 proach, till Preston said : 
 
 " Joe, what's to pay ? " 
 
 " Nuffin', massa Robert, 'cept 1'se 'scharged dis man, an' 
 he say he won't gwo." 
 
 "Do as Joseph bids you," said Preston, turning to the 
 white man ; " take your pay, and go at once." 
 
 The man stammered out a few words with a cringing air, 
 but the planter cut him short, with : 
 
 " I want no explanations. If you can't satisfy Joseph, you 
 can't satisfy me." 
 
 The native then leisurely took down a ragged coat that 
 hung from one of the timbers, counted over a small roll of 
 bank notes which Joe gave him, and meekly left the still- 
 house. 
 
 Joe and his master devoted the next half hour to piloting 
 me over the distilleries. I commented rather freely on the sad 
 waste of valuable produce which was scattered about, and on 
 the bad economy of keeping three " stills " to do the work of 
 one. 
 
 "It might have done years ago," I remarked, "before your 
 trees ran to 'scrape,' and when they yielded enough 'dip' to 
 keep all the stills busy ; but now they are eating you up. 
 
PLANTATION MANAGEMENT. 115 
 
 You have fully four thousand dollars idle here. Sell them, 
 Preston — that amount would help you out of debt." 
 
 " Dat's what I tells massa Robert, Mr. Kirke ; but he sort 
 o' clings ter ole tings, sar," said Joe, in the free, familiar tone 
 usual with him. 
 
 "But you do just as badly, Joe," I replied. "You let 
 these darkies waste more than they eat, and you keep four 
 here to do the work of three. You are no better than your 
 master." 
 
 " Only haff so good, Mr. Kirke," rejoined the black, show- 
 ing a set of teeth which a dentist might have used for a door 
 plate ; " only haff so good, 'case I'se only half white. But, 
 ef massa Robert 'ould leff me handle de whip, I'd show* him 
 suffin' ! I reckon de int'rest 'ouldn't be ahind den." 
 
 " Why ! don't you let Joe whip the negroes ? " I asked 
 Preston. 
 
 " No, not now ; I did, till some years ago, when he almost 
 killed one of them, and came near getting me into serious 
 trouble. He could manage them well enough without whip- 
 ing, if h§'d curb his impetuous temper a little." 
 
 "But I does curb it, massa Robert, and it ain't ob no 
 use. Dey knows I cant whip 'em, an' dey don't keer fur de 
 starvin', or de tyin' up, or de talkin' to in de meetin'. Dey 
 don't mind fur nuffin' but de whip, an' a little ex'cise wid dat 
 does a nigger good when he'm right down 'fractory. An' 
 you's 'lowed, massa Robert, dat I warn't so much ter blame 
 in dat 'fair ob Black Cale." 
 
 " "Well, perhaps you weren't. It's a good story, Kirke ; 
 did I ever tell it to you ? " 
 
 " No ; I'd be glad to hear it." 
 
116 MY SOUTHERN FRIENDS. 
 
 " Come, Joe," said his master, " you can tell it better 
 than I. You know it by heart," 
 
 "Well, massa, ef you says so," replied Joe; and we 
 seated ourselves on some rosin barrels, while the black pro- 
 ceeded to give the following illustration of the working of 
 free and slave institutions : 
 
 11 Well, you sees, Mr. Kirke, de darky's name wus Black 
 Cale, an' he wus a raised up 'long wid me by de ole gemman — 
 dat am massa Robert's gran'fer. He wus allers a hard-bitted, 
 'fractory darky, but he wus smart, awful smart, an' 'ould do a 
 heap ob wuck when a minded to ; but he wusn't a minded to 
 bery of 'en, an' ole master use to hab ter flog him — flog him 
 bery'hard. Well, finarly, de ole gemman he grow'd tired ob 
 doin' so much ob dat, an' he call Cale ter him one day, an' 
 he say : 
 
 " ' Cale, you'se a likely nigger, an' I don't like ter flog you 
 so much. Now, I leff you hire you' time, an' gwo down ter 
 Newbern, an' shirk fur you'sefT.' 
 
 " Ole massa know'd Cale wus habin' a bad 'feet on de 
 oder darkies, an' he 'lowed 'twould be cheap leffin' kim gwo, 
 ef he didn't get a picayune fur him. Well, Cale, he took ter 
 dat ter onst, an' he 'greed to gib ole massa one fifty a year 
 fur his time ; an' so he put off ter Newbern. Ebery ting 
 gwo on right smart till de ole gemman die. Cale, he wuck 
 hard, pay massa ebery year, an' sabe up quite a heap. Well, 
 ole master die widout a will, an' all de property gwo ter de two 
 sons ; dat am massa James an' massa Thomas — he war mas- 
 sa Robert's fader. Now, massa James he neber lib'd on de 
 plantation, so he sold all his haff ob de nigs to massa Thomas, 
 an' put all de 'vails inter his bisness down dar ter Mobile, whar 
 
PLANTATION MANAGE M ENT. 117 
 
 he am now, doin' a heap in de cotton way. But he didn't sell 
 his haff ob Cale, 'case massa Thomas 'ouldn't buy him, no- 
 how. Well, dey owned Cale tugedder fur a spell, an' Cale he 
 wuck on right smart, till one day massa James come home, 
 an' he tell massa Thomas dat on de way he'd a stopped at 
 Newbern, an' sole his haff ob Cale ter Cale heseff, fur five 
 hundred dollar, an' giben him de free papers. Well, den Cale 
 he want ter buy de oder haff ob heseff ob massa Thomas, an' 
 massa Thomas he offer ter take de same money ; but Cale say 
 de oder haff not wuth so much as de fust, an' dat he 'ouldn't 
 gib only two fifty." 
 
 M Not worth so much ! why not ? " I inquired. 
 
 " Why, Cale say 'case he could do what he like wid de free 
 haff, an' he reckoned he shouldn't be quite so 'sponsible, den, 
 fur de slave haff," and here Joe broke into a fit of laugh- 
 ter, in which Preston joined. 
 
 " Well, massa Thomas an' Cale couldn't 'gree 'bout de 
 buyin', but Cale promise ter gib seventy-five dollar a yar fur 
 de use ob massa'a haff, an' he gwo off agin ter Newbern. 
 Den do time gwo by fur a year or two, but massa neber git 
 nary dime out ob Cale fur his haff. Cale 'ould say dat only 
 haff ob him wus free, an' de oder haff wusn't 'sponsible, an' 
 couldn't pay its debts, nohow. Finarlv, massa, seein' he 
 couldn't git nuifin' out ob Cale, only offers ob two fifty fur de 
 oder haff — an' dat he 'ouldn't take, nohow — send me down ter 
 Newbern ter sort o' mediate 'tween Cale an' he. Well, I 
 coax Cale ter 'gree ter wuck one monfh fur heseff, an' de 
 oder monfh fur massa, an' I come home ; but it warn't ob no 
 use ; Cale would wuck, but massa neber^seed a fip ob de pay. 
 Finarlv, af 'er he'd a gone on dat way 'bout ten yar, stowin' 
 
IIS MY SOUTHERN FRIENDS. 
 
 'way what lie 'arned whar nobody could fine it, an' allerg 
 off'rin' two fifty fur de oder naff ob heseff, massa Thomas he 
 die, an' massa Robert he come ter lib on de plantation. Den 
 massa Robert lie ax me what he should do wid Cale, an' I 
 tole him to take de two fifty, an' leff him gwo. But he say 
 1 no ; ' dat he 'ouldn't sell him fur dat, nohow." And here 
 the black looked shyly at his master, and a roguish twinkle 
 came into his eyes. " TV ell, den, I tole massa Robert dat I 
 t ought I could fix Cale, ef he'd leff me manage him jess as I 
 likes. He 'gree ter dat, an' I gwoes down ter Newbern, an' 
 makes Cale come home, an' den I say ter him : ' Now, Cale, 
 ytftf stay yere, an' gwo ter wuck. Ebery monfh you wuck 
 fur me, an' ebery oder monfh you wuck fur you'seff; an' 
 when you wuck fur you'seff, I pay you so much fur ebery 
 barr'l ob dip, an' so much fur ebery barr'l ob scrape, an' 
 so much fur ebery day when you -wuck roun' ; an' I makes 
 you pay so much fur what you lib on.' Well, Cale, he 
 'gree ter dat. He wuck de fust monfh fur heseff, an' he did 
 wuck — he done twice so much as any hand on de plantation.; 
 but de next monfh, when he wuck fur me, he don't do nuffin' 
 but lay roun', an' git drunk. I stood dat till de monfh wus 
 up — fur I neber did take ter whippin' de nigs, an' massa 
 Robert know dat — an' den, when Cale wus clean sober, I tied 
 him up ter gib him a noggin'. "Well, when he wus a stripped, 
 an' I wus jess gwine ter lay on de lashes, Cale says ter me, 
 says he : ' Look a yere, 'ou Joe ; 'ou may whip massa's haff 
 ob dis nig jess so long as 'ou likes ; but ef 'ou put de lash 
 onter my haff, I'll take de law on 'ou. I will, shore.' Dat sot 
 me a tinkiiv ; fur de fac' wus, I'd nary right ter flog his haff; 
 but den it 'curred ter me dat none but darkies wus roun', an' so 
 
PLANTATION MANAGEMENT. 119 
 
 I tought I had him, shore. Well, I puts on de lashes, an' he 
 keeps a tellin' me he'd hab de law on me, which make me sort 
 ob 'zasparated, till I put 'em on right smart ; an' at lass he gib 
 in. Well, when I'd a got him a feelin' 'bout right, an' wus 
 only jess puttin' on de 4ass blows, ter finish up makin' a decent 
 nigger ob him, massa Robert he come up ; and when he seed 
 de blood a runnin' down his back, he say Cale had been 
 whipped 'bout 'nuff, an' I must stop. Cale turned up missin' 
 dat night, an' got off ter Newbern ; an', shore 'nuff, de next 
 evenin', 'long 'bout dark, de sherrif he rode up ter de house 
 wid a writ fur massa Robert fur habin' made 'salt an' batt'ry 
 on one collud man, called Caleb Preston ; an' he pulled out a 
 suspeny dat make massa Robert witness agin heseff — ha ! ha ! 
 You sees, Cale wus -smart; he know'd massa Robert b'long 
 ter de Baptist meetin', an' wouldn't lie fur all de niggers in 
 Jones county ; so he had him dar- — ha I ha ! " 
 
 Here Joe for some minutes was unable to continue the nar- 
 rative. It was contagious. I laughed till my sides were 
 sore, and Preston enjoyed the story quite as much as I did. 
 
 " Well, what w^as the end of it ? " I asked. - 
 
 " Only, massa Robert hed to be toted off ter Newbern dat 
 night, git bail, or sleep in de jail, an' de next mornin', af'er de 
 nig hed a hed ten yars' use ob heseff fur nuflin', massa Robert 
 hed to do what Ae'c? a said, an' his fader afore him hed said, 
 dey neber would do — dat is, take two fifty fur de oder haff ob 
 Cale — ha ! ha ! De next time I gwoes ter Newbern I hunt 
 Cale up, an' I tell him he must study fur de law, shore ; an' 
 dat ef he done it, I know'd massa Robert would pay de 
 'spences, out ob lub ter de county." 
 
 The negroes who were attending the still had dropped their 
 
120 MY SOUTHERN FRIENDS. 
 
 F 
 
 work to listen to Joe's story, and at its close guffawed in a cho- 
 s that made the woods ring. Hearing it, Joe sprang to his 
 et, shouting out : " Yere ! 'bout you' wuck, dar. Leff me 
 kotch you eavesdroppin' on gem men agin, an' I'll gib you what 
 I gabe Cale. 'Bout you' wuck, I say." They turned nimbly 
 to their tasks, and Joe resumed his seat. 
 
 " I see the moral of that story, Preston," I said, when the 
 negro had concluded. 
 
 " What is it?" 
 
 " That a darky may be as smart as a white man. Cale 
 outwitted you." 
 
 " Well, he did," he replied, laughing ; " but that isn't the 
 moral : it is, that flogging never accomplishes its object." 
 
 " I'm not so sure of that. Joe had brought Cale to terms 
 — ' made a decent nigger on him ' — when you, unluckily, inter- 
 fered." 
 
 " It ain't so much de noggin' on em', Mr. Kirke," said Joe, 
 u as dar knowin' dat you will do it, ef dey desarve it. Dar 
 ain't a darky on de plantation dat don't know massa Robert 
 an' de good missus 'ould rader be flogged demselves dan flog 
 dem ; an' dat wricks bad, Mr. Kirke, sorry bad ; " and the 
 negro shook his head with a grave, thoughtful air. 
 
 " Tell me, Preston," I said, after a slight pause, "how is it 
 that your neighbor Dawsey, with only seventy-five negroes, 
 sends us more produce than you do, with a hundred and fifty ? " 
 
 " Simply because he treats his hands like brutes, while I 
 treat mine like men." 
 
 . "I hope you'll take no offence," I replied, "but it ap- 
 pears to me there must be some other reason. He has only 
 half your number." 
 
PLANTATION MANAGEMENT. 121 
 
 " Well, I will tell you how he and I manage, and you can 
 judge for yourself. Dawsey has seventy-five slaves : forty 
 child-bearing women, twenty men, and fifteen children under 
 five years. The sixty adults are all prime hands. They are 
 given daily tasks, which they cannot possibly do in less than 
 fifteen hours, leaving them only nine hours out of the twenty- 
 four for eating, sleeping, feeding their children, and the waking 
 rest necessary to working people. He never whips them on a 
 week day, because it wastes working time, but makes Sunday 
 a general flogging season. He has two women where he has one 
 man, and each woman is expected to bear a child every second 
 year. If she doesn't, she is sold. They are made to work in the 
 field till the labor pains are on them, and are allowed, only 
 two weeks' rest after confinement. Three of them have borne 
 children in the woods, this season. He keeps only one nurse 
 for the fifteen children : and as soon as each child is five years 
 old — the age at whch it can be legally sold away from its 
 mother — it is disposed of to the traders. In addition, three of 
 these women are his mistresses, and they must have children 
 as fast as the others. He serves their children like the rest ; 
 that is, rears them to the age of five, and then sells them, as 
 he would so many hogs." 
 
 " My God ! " 1 exclaimed ; u he's a monster." 
 " There are different opinions about that. Dawsey passes 
 for a jovial, good fellow ; keeps open house for his friends ; 
 spends money freely at the elections, and, two years ago, 
 'got religion' at the camp meeting. He merely regards his 
 slaves as chattels, and manages his plantation in perhaps 
 the only way that is profitable in an old section of country 
 like this." 
 
 6 
 
122 MY SOUTHERN FRIENDS. 
 
 " And how is it with you ? How do you manage ? " I 
 asked. 
 
 " Leff me tell, massa Robert," said the black. " I knows 
 all de 'ticulars 'bout dat.". 
 
 " Go on," said Preston, laughing. 
 
 " We hab," continued the black, " countin' me in, a hun- 
 dred an' fifty- one darkies, all in fam'lies — faders, mudders, chil- 
 'ren, an' some on 'em gran'faders an' gran'mudders ; 'most all 
 born on de plantation, an' some on 'em libin' on it fur forty, 
 fifty, sixty, an' seventy yar. Out ob dese, we hab only firty- 
 six full hands, 'case some ob de wimmin dat come in de ages 
 fur full wuck am sickly, puny tings, only fit fur house wuck or 
 nussin'. From de whole, I gits equal ter 'bout fifty full hands. 
 'Cordin' to massa Robert's direction, I gib 'em easy ten-hour 
 wuck ; but sufim' or oder turn up 'most ebery day, so dat 'bout 
 haff on 'em don't do full wuck, an' I reckon dey don't make, 
 on de whole, more'n 'bout nine hour a day. So you see, Cun- 
 nel Dawsey, he hab sixty, an' he wuck 'em fifteen hour a day ; 
 we hab only fifty, an' we wuck 'em nine hour a day ; an', 
 'cordin' ter my 'rithmetic, dat would make de Gunnel turn out 
 'bout twice as much truck as we does." 
 
 " And you have twice as many mouths to feed as he," I 
 remarked ; " and the result is, he makes money, while you " 
 
 " Lose nigh onter two thousand a yar, Mr. Kirke, an' hab 
 done it ebery yar fur five yar, eber since massa Robert come 
 on ter de plantation, an' gwo ter workin' on human principles, 
 as he call 'em." 
 
 This was said in so sad and regretful a tone, that, in spite 
 of the serious manner of both the black and his master, I 
 could not help laughing. 
 
PLANTATION MANAGEMENT. 123 
 
 " Joe," said I, " what would you do to mend this state of 
 affairs ? " 
 
 " It can't be mended, ef we stay in dis ole country, an' 
 wuck 'cordin' ter massa Robert's notion." 
 
 u Then you mean to say you can't apply humane principles 
 to slave labor, in an old district, and make money ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Preston, rising, and pacing up and down in the 
 small semicircle formed by the rosin barrels ; " that is what he 
 means to say, and it is true." * 
 
 u Then how do the majority of turpentine planters in this 
 section make money ? They do make it, that is certain." 
 
 " By overworking their hands, as Dawsey does. All may 
 not be as severe with them as he is, but all overwork them, 
 more or less," replied Preston. 
 
 " I don't know 'bout dat, massa Robert ; twelve, an' eben 
 firteen hour a day neber hurt a prime hand, ef he hab good 
 feed." 
 
 " Well, it is six o'clock, and supper must be in waiting," 
 said Preston, drawing out his watch ; " we'll talk more on this 
 subject to-night. Joe, bring the books up to the house this 
 evening. Mr. Kirke has promised to look into our affairs, and 
 I shall need you." 
 
 " Yas, massa Robert," replied the black ; and, mounting 
 our horses, Preston and I rode back to the mansion. 
 
CHAPTEE X. 
 
 A S U T H<« R N WOMAN 
 
 Mrs. Preston and master Joe were on the piazza awaiting 
 us, and, in the doorway, we were met by the younger children. 
 Preston lifted one of them upon his shoulder, and, taking an- 
 other in his arms, led the way to the supper room. However 
 disturbed might be my friend's relations with the outer world, 
 all was peace by his cheerful fireside. No man was ever more 
 blessed in his home. His children were intelligent, loving, and 
 obedient ; his wife was one of those rare women — seen no- 
 where more often than in the South — who, to a cultivated mind 
 and polished manners, add the more homely accomplishments 
 of a good housewife. It is years since she laid aside the weary 
 cares of her plantation home, and entered on the higher duties 
 of another life ; but her kindly image is still as fresh in my 
 memory as on that autumn day, when she placed her hand in 
 mine for the last time, and spoke the last "God bless you " which 
 I was to hear from her lips on this side of the grave. She was 
 a perfect woman — a faithful mistress, a loving wife, a devoted 
 mother. Anticipating every want of her husband, carefully 
 instructing her children, overseeing every detail of her house- 
 hold, meting out the weekly allowance of the negroes, visiting 
 
A SOUTUEEN WOMAN. 125 
 
 daily the cabins of the sick and the infirm, and with her own 
 hand dispensing the soothing cordial or the healing medicine, — 
 or, when all medicine failed, bending over the lowly bed of the 
 dying, and pointing him to the " better home on high," — she 
 was a ministering angel — a joy and a blessing to all about her. 
 She wore no costly silks, no diamonds on her fingers, or jewels 
 in her hair ; but she was arrayed in garments all rich and beau- 
 tiful with human love. She knew nothing — thought nothing — 
 about the right or the wrong of slavery ; but, cheerfully and 
 prayerfully, never wearying and never doubting, she went on 
 in the round of duties allotted her, leaning on the arm of the 
 Good All-Father, and looking steadfastly to Him for guid- 
 ance and support. And, truly, she had her reward. "Her 
 children rose up and called her blessed ; her husband, also, and 
 he praised her." 
 
 Supper was soon over, when my hostess rose, and cpn- 
 ducted me to the library. That apartment was in a wing 
 communicating with the mansion by a covered passage way 
 It was plainly furnished, but had a cosy, homelike appear- 
 ance. Its four walls were lined with books, some stand- 
 ing on end, some resting on their sides, and some leaning 
 negligently against each other ; ^and on the massive cen- 
 tre table, open volumes, old newspapers, and unfinished 
 manuscripts were littered, in most delightful confusion. A 
 half dozen old-fashioned chairs straggled about the floor, 
 as if they did not know exactly what to do with them- 
 selves, and a score of old worthies, their faces white as chalk, 
 and their long hair and beards powdered with a whole genera- 
 tion of dust, looked complacently down from the top of the 
 bookshelves. Dust was on the table, on the chairs, on the 
 
126 MY SOUTHERN FEIENDS. 
 
 floor, on the ceiling, and on the musty old volumes ranged 
 along the walls, and dust everywhere told unmistakably that no 
 profane hand ever disturbed the dusty repose which- reigned in 
 the apartment. 
 
 Two or three oaken logs, supported on bright brass and- 
 irons — the only bright things in the room — were blazing cheer- 
 fully on the broad hearthstone ; and, drawing our chairs near, 
 we sat down before them. 
 
 " May I come in ? " said master Joe, thrusting his head in 
 at the half-closed doorway. 
 
 " No. my son," answered his father ; " Mr. Kirke and I are 
 to talk over business matters." 
 
 " Do let him come, Robert," said Mrs. Preston ; " he is old 
 enough to learn something of such affairs." 
 
 The lad entered, and, seating himself on a low stool by the 
 side of his mother, and burying his head in her lap, was soon 
 fast asleep. 
 
 " This room, Mr. Kirke," said the lady, u is sacred to 
 Robert and the dust. I beg you will not think I have the care 
 of it." 
 
 " Oh no. madam ; it is plain that a man has exclusive 
 dominion here. But your husband has been away for some 
 time." 
 
 " That does not account for the dust ; it hasn't been stirred 
 for a twelvemonth ; " and, after a pause, she added, a thin 
 moisture glistening in her eyes, " I have not yet thanked you, 
 sir, for saving Phyllis and the children from the clutches of that 
 wretched trader." 
 
 " No thanks are requisite, madam. It was a mere matter 
 of business , we are in the practice of making advances to our 
 consignors." 
 
A SOUTHERN WOMAN. 127 
 
 "Nevertheless we m thank you, sir; Robert and I will ever 
 be grateful for it." 
 
 " Do not speak of it, madam ; I would be glad to serve 
 you to a much greater extent." 
 
 The lady made no reply, and a rather embarrassing silence 
 followed for some minutes, when I said : 
 
 " Preston, Joe is a remarkable negro ; I think I never met 
 one so intelligent and well informed." 
 
 " He is very intelligent," he replied ; " he has fine natural 
 abilities." 
 
 "It is a pity Nature gave him so dark a skin, and made 
 him a — slave." 
 
 " Not a pity, Mr. Kirke," rejoined Mrs. Preston ; " Na- 
 ture, or rather God, always puts us in our right places. Jo- 
 seph is more useful where he is, than he would be anywhere 
 else." 
 
 " I understood him that he was raised on the plantation," 
 I added. 
 
 " Yes," replied my host ; " my grandfather bought his 
 mother when she was a girl. She was a favorite house-ser- 
 vant, and Joe was born in a room ove* where we are sitting. 
 This building was then all there was of the mansion." 
 
 " And how did he pick up so much information ? " 
 
 " The old gentleman, who gave little heed to either law or 
 gospel, taught them both to read and write." [Years after the 
 date of this conversation, I learned that Joe was the son of 
 that lawless, graceless old gentleman.] " And Joe, when a 
 boy, read everything he could lay his hands on. Since I 
 have brought my library here, he has devoured about half 
 of the books in it. He devotes every night, from eight 
 o'clock to twelve, to reading." 
 
128 MY SOUTHERN FRIENDS. 
 
 " I am surprised, that, with so mu,ch reading, he uses so 
 entirely the negro dialect." 
 
 u But he does not. In common conversation he expresses 
 himself in it, for it is the dialect in which a black does his ordi- 
 nary thinking ; but let him get upon an elevated subject, as he 
 frequently does in his sermons, and you will hear words as 
 strong, pure, and simple as any found in the Bible, flow from 
 him like a stream." 
 
 " Does he preach every Sunday ? " 
 
 " Yes ; I usually catechize the people in the evening, and 
 he preaches in the morning." 
 
 " But do you learn all your negroes to read ? " 
 
 " No, the law does not allow it. I teach them to repeat 
 the catechism, texts of Scripture, and passages from good 
 books, and I explain these to them." 
 
 11 And Joe is your overseer ? " 
 
 " Not exactly that. My father made him overseer about 
 thirty years ago, but the law requires a white man in that situ 
 ation ; and when I took charge of the plantation, the neigh 
 bors made a clamor about my having a black. The result was 
 I 'whipped the devil round the stump,' by hiring a white dis 
 tiller, and calling him ' overseer.' I let Joe, however, ' over 
 see' him, as you have seen to-day." 
 
 A rap came then at the door, and master Joe, waking up, 
 ushered the subject of our conversation into the room. He 
 held his hat in his hand, and had under his arm a couple of 
 account books. 
 
 " This is Joseph the First," said the lad, taking the black 
 by the coat-tail, and bowing gravely to me. 
 
 " And you are Joseph the Second, I suppose ? ' : 
 
A SOUTHERN WOMAN. 129 
 
 u Yas, sar ; he'm dat 'stinguished gemman," replied the 
 negro, stroking Affectionately the lad's head; "an' he don't dis- 
 honor de name, sar. He'm de true blue, dyed in de wool." 
 
 "Bring up a chair, Joseph," said the lady, smiling kindly 
 on the black. 
 
 " Tank you, missus ; " and the negro seated himself by the 
 fire, between Preston and me. 
 
 • " You have brought the documents, I see, Joe ; let me look 
 at them," I said, reaching out my hand for the books. 
 
 " Yas, sar ; an' dey'm all written up ter a week back. I 
 reckon you kin pick 'em out, Mr. Kirke, dough massa Robert 
 he say he don't understancTmy way ob keepin' em." 
 
 I opened the books, and any man of business will appreciate 
 my surprise to find they were kept by " double entry." Cot- 
 ton, corn, and turpentine had each its separate account, and at 
 a glance I could see how much had been made or lost in the 
 production of each staple. The handwriting was plain and 
 bold, and the general appearance of the ledger compared favor- 
 ably with that of a much larger one I knew of, which was the 
 pride of an experienced bookkeeper. 
 
 " Why, Joe, I'm astonished ! " I exclaimed, with unaffected 
 gratification ; " you write like a schoolmaster." 
 
 A flush, which would have been a blush on a lighter skin, 
 overspread the negro's face, as he replied : 
 
 "I don't hab practice 'nuff, Mr. Kirke, ter- write bery 
 well." 
 
 " Practice ! " saM Preston ; " he has constant practice ; he 
 writes the love letters of all the darkies in the district." 
 
 " It am so, dat's a fac', sar," said Joe, a quiet humor twink- 
 ling in his eye. " One ob Cunnel Dawsey's folk come ter me 
 6* 
 
130 MY SOUTHERN FRIENDS. 
 
 ter day — his wife hab been sold down Soufh, an' he wanted 
 ter say ter har, dat dough ribers rose, an' mountitis run . atween 
 'em, he'd neber hab nuffin' ter do wid no oder 'ooman — so he 
 comes ter me, an' I writes de letter ; an' when I'd a put in all 
 de ribers, an' de mountins, an' eber so many runs, an' tought 
 I'd done it up right smart, I read it ober ter him, but he say he 
 sort ob reckoned it warn't quite done up 'pletely — not 'xactly 
 'eluded ; so he 'sisted I muss 'sert a pose scrip, axin' har ter 
 'scuse de bad writin'." 
 
 "And you did it?" 
 
 " Yas, sar, I done it." 
 
 " Well, Joe, the important thing just now is, how much 
 you owe. Give me a slip of paper, and let me put these bal- 
 ances together." 
 
 " I'se done dat, Mr. Kirke ; here dey am," and he handed 
 me a correctly drawn-up statement, showing Preston's exact 
 liabilities. I glanced over it, compared it with the footings in 
 the ledger, and said : 
 
 11 1 see by this, Preston, that you owe seventeen hundred 
 dollars, floating debt ; twelve hundred dollars, interest on your 
 mortgage ; and are overdrawn five hundred dollars on our 
 house." 
 
 " Yes, so Joe makes it, and I reckon he's correct." 
 
 u But dar'm de six'hunderd you 'cepted fur massa flobert, 
 de oder day, in Newbern ; dat ain't counted in," said Joe. 
 
 " "Well, all told, it's four thousand, besides the note I have 
 given for Phyllis. "What do you calculate on to pay it, 
 Preston ? " 
 
 " I don't know. How can we pay it, Joe ? " 
 
 " "We moight sell de two stills, an' some ob de hosses ; I 
 
A SOUTHERN WOMAN. 131 
 
 • 
 
 reckon dey'd be 'nuff," replied the black ; "but de raal trutble, 
 massa Robert, am what's comin' ; we'rn gwine ahind ebery 
 day, 'case we lose money on ebery crop ob turpentine. Nuffin' 
 pay now but de corn an' de cotton, an' we don't raise 'nuff ob 
 dem ter do no good." 
 
 I turned to the ledger, and found it showed what the 
 black said to be true — corn and cotton had made a handsome 
 profit, but turpentine had " paid a loss." 
 
 M That is because your trees are old, and now yield little of 
 anything but scrape," * I said. 
 
 " Yas, sar ; an' 'case dey am so thin like, sence we clean 
 out de pore ones, dat it take a hand long time ter git 'round 
 'mong 'em." 
 
 "*~VVhy not drop turpentine, and cut shingles from the 
 swamp ? You've a fortune in those cypress trees." . 
 
 " My negroes are not accustomed to swamp work — it 
 would kill them," replied Preston. 
 
 " Mr. Kirke," said Joe, — " you'll take no : fence, massa 
 Robert, ef I says dis ? " 
 
 " No ; go on," said his master. 
 
 " De ting am right in a nutshell, an' jess so clar as apple 
 jack : we owes a heap ; we'se gittin' inter debt deeper an' 
 deeper ebery yar ; we lose money workin' de ole trees ; we 
 hain't got no new ones ; an' dar's no use ter talk ; massa 
 Robert won't put de hands inter de swamp. "What, den, shill 
 we do ? " 
 
 * 'Scrape' is the turpentine gathered from the face of the pine. On old trees, 
 the yearly incision is made high above the boxes, and the sap, in flowing down, 
 passes over and adheres to the previously scarified surface. It is thus exposed to 
 the sun, which evaporates the more volatile and valuable portion, and leaves only 
 the bard, which, when manufactured, is mostly rosin. "Scrape" turpentine is 
 only about half as valuable as " dip." 
 
132 MY SOUTHERN FRIENDS. 
 
 Avoiding the darky's question, I said : " I never before 
 understood why slavery is so clamorous for new fields. I see, 
 now — it can draw support only from the virgin soil. It ex- 
 hausts an old country. Like the locusts of Egypt, it eats up 
 the very face of the earth ! " 
 
 11 That is true," replied Preston ; " but Joe has stated the 
 case correctly. What shall we do?" 
 
 " One of two things : sell your plantation and negroes, or 
 take your hands to a new section, where you can raise virgin 
 turpentine. 7 '* 
 
 " I cannot sell my negroes — they were all raised with me ; 
 and the plantation — it was my ancestors', over a hundred years 
 aero. I would move my hands to a new section, but I have 
 not the means to buy land." 
 
 11 Ay, dar's de rub," said Joe. 
 
 " If you could satisfy your outside creditors that things 
 were likely to go better with you in future, could you put them 
 off for a time ? " I asked. 
 
 " I reckon I could — nearly all of them," replied Preston. 
 
 " "Well, then, I'll make you a proposition. Buy ten thou- 
 sand acres on the line of the Manchester railroad. It is fin- 
 ished to Whitesville, and you can buy land within twenty miles 
 of that station, at seventy-five cents an acre. We'll advance 
 the twenty per cent, you'll have to pay down, and five hundred 
 dollars more to start you there, and hold the deed of the land 
 to secure us. Ship your produce to us, and agree to forfeit the 
 land, if, at the end of three years, you have not paid all the 
 original advance. Move your stills, and your able-bodied men 
 and women there, leaving the old and the young negroes here 
 
 * " Virgin " turpentine is twice as valuable as " dip." 
 
A SOUTHERN WOMAN. 133 
 
 to raise com and cotton. Hire fifty more prime hands, and put 
 Joe over the whole, with unlimited power to work them to 
 death, if he pleases." 
 
 Preston leaned hi3 head on his hand, as if bewildered — he 
 seemed not to understand me ; but Joe's face lighted as if a 
 stream of electricity were playing under his dark skin. Mrs. 
 Preston was the first to speak. 
 
 " Robert will do it, Mr. Kirke ; and how can we ever thank 
 you enough for your generous conduct toward us ? You have 
 taken a weary load off our hearts." 
 
 " It is a simple business transaction, madam ; I expect to 
 make money by it. Your husband is to consign his produce 
 to us, and I shall require the forfeit of the land and the im- 
 provements, if he does not pay our advances within three 
 years." 
 
 " "We kin pay 'em in one yar, an' you knows it, sar ! " ex- 
 claimed Joe, springing to his feet, and almost dancing around 
 the room. " Come, massa Robert, look up, an' tell 'im we'll 
 do it, fur ole Joe'll make de chips fly as you neber seed 
 afore." 
 
 Preston looked up, as he said : " My friend, I thank you." 
 
 " You need not say that ; only buy the land, and make Joe 
 autocrat of the new plantation, and your bacon is cured." 
 
 " Joe'll show you how bacon am cured, Mr. Kirke ; an' 
 he'll name his fuss boy af 'er you, shore ! " shouted the black, 
 grinning all over. 
 
 " He can safely promise that," said the lady, laughing 
 through her tears ; " for Aggy is fifty, and never had a 
 child." 
 
 A half-hour's conversation of er the details of the proposed 
 
134 MY SOUTHERN FRIENDS. 
 
 arrangement followed ; then Joe rose, and, taking the ac- 
 count books under his arm, bade us " <rood eveninV As 
 he was leaving the room, I asked : " Do you preach to- 
 morrow ? " 
 
 M Yas, sar ; an' I'se gwine home ter study ober de sermon. 
 You'll come dar, sar ? You won't yere no raal preachin', 'less 
 massa Robert feels de sperrit move, fur de Lord don't gib de 
 brack man de tongue He gib de white." 
 
 " I'm not sure of that ; but I'll be there. Good night." 
 
 M Good night, sar, an' de Lord bless you." 
 
 "When he had gone, I said to Preston : " You have admit- 
 ted me to your confidence, and asked my advice ; therefore, 
 I think you'll pardon me, if I make you a few business sug- 
 gestions." 
 
 11 Most certainly ; and I shall be guided by them." 
 
 " With a hundred hands in those thick woods, Joe will 
 turn out a vast amount of produce. His ambition is excited 
 with the idea of being his own- master, and he will coin money 
 for you ; but you need to be prudent. You owe a mortgage 
 of twenty thousand dollars — and mortgage debts are the worst 
 in the world. Your plantation and negroes may be worth 
 three times the amount, but they are in jeopardy so long as 
 it exists. If it were called in suddenly, you couldn't pay 
 it ; your property would be sacrificed — everything might be 
 lost. Now I would suggest that you sell, at once, your three 
 hundred acres of swamp land, all your surplus live stock and 
 materials, and appropriate the proceeds to paying your floating 
 debt, and reducing the mortgage." 
 
 " And we might reduce our family expenses, Robert," said 
 his wife ; " we have too man/ house-servants. We could hire 
 
 i 
 
A SOUTHERN WOMAN. 135 
 
 out five or six of them in Newbern. And Joseph's schooling 
 costs us five hundred dollars a year ; he might come home — I 
 could teach him." 
 
 " You would take too much on yourself, Lucy," replied her 
 husband. " You are not strong, and you can't spare a single 
 servant." 
 
 " How many have you ? " I asked. 
 
 " Nine," said Preston. 
 
 M For a family of two adults and three children ? ' 
 
 " It strikes you as too many, Mr. Kirke," said the lady, 
 11 and it is. It is our Southern way ; but every additional ser- 
 vant makes additional work for the mistress." 
 
 " I think you are right, madam," I replied. M A Northern 
 lady that you know of, takes care of me, Frank, the two young 
 children, and a large house, with only two servants and an 
 errand boy ; and she never has anything to do after two 
 o'clock." * 
 
 " But you have the Irish ; they are better house-servants 
 than our blacks ; and you can discharge them, if they won't 
 work," said Preston. 
 
 " I would rather have Phyllis, than any servant I ever saw 
 at the North. "With her, the cook, and one more, I will prom- 
 ise to get on beautifully," remarked his wife. 
 
 Preston's voice quivered, as he replied : " Do as you 
 think best." 
 
 " But, madam," I said, " I think you are really taking too 
 much on yourself; the care of the children will be a great tax 
 on your strength. "Would it not be better to employ a gov- 
 erness to instruct them ? "What is now expended on Joe, 
 would pay a competent person." 
 
136 MY SOUTHERN FRIENDS. 
 
 " What do you say to that, Joe ? " asked his father ; 
 " would you like to come home, and have a woman teacher ? " 
 
 "•I'd like to do what mother wants me to," said the lad, 
 putting his arms about her neck, and kissing her. 
 
 ° You're a good boy, Joe," said his mother. 
 
 " But you'll let me keep the pony, won't you, father ? " 
 said the lad. 
 
 " Yes, my son ; and if you learn well, you shall go with 
 uncle James when you're fifteen." 
 
 Shortly afterward, we separated for the night. 
 
CHAPTEE XI. 
 
 THE NEGRO MEETING. 
 
 On a gentle knoll, a few hundred yards from the negro 
 quarters, and in the midst of a grove of pines, whose soft 
 brown tassels covered the ground all around it, stood the negro 
 meeting house. It was built of unhewn logs, its crevices 
 chinked with clay, and was large enough to seat about two 
 hundred persons. Though its exterior resembled a backwoods 
 barn, its interior had a neat and tasteful appearance. Ever- 
 green boughs hid its rough beams and bare shingled roof, and 
 long wreaths of pine leaves hung in graceful festoons from its 
 naked walls and narrow windows. On the two sides of a wide 
 aisle, which served to separate the sheep on the right hand 
 from the goats on the left, were long rows of benches, with 
 hard board bottoms, and rough, open backs ; and beyond them, 
 divided from the rest of the interior by a rustic railing, was the 
 " family pew " — an enclosure about twelve feet square, neatly 
 carpeted, and furnished with half a dozen arm chairs. Oppo- 
 site to this was a platform elevated three steps from the floor, 
 and on it stood a rustic settee, a large easy chair, and a modest 
 desk covered with green baize, and decorated with small sprigs 
 of evergreen. On this desk rested a large Bible. 
 
 The enormous seashell which served as a bell to this " house 
 
138 MY SOUTHERN FRIENDS. 
 
 of prayer," was sending its last blast in long echoes through 
 the old trees, when, with Mrs. Preston and the children, I 
 elbowed an opening through the thick group of grinning Afri- 
 cans that blocked the doorway, and worked a passage down 
 the crowded aisle to the family enclosure. Seating myself in 
 one of its cane-bottomed chairs, I glanced around on the assem- 
 blage. Such a gathering of woolly heads I had never seen. 
 Every plantation within a circuit of five miles had sent in a 
 representation, till the benches, the aisle, the small area around 
 the pulpit, and the open space near the doorway were all 
 densely packed. On the left, the men, in gaudy cravats and 
 many-colored waistcoats, were chatting merrily together, and 
 enjoying themselves as heartily as a parcel of Yankees at a 
 clam-bake ; and on the right, the women, in red and yellow tur- 
 bans, and flaming shawls and neckerchiefs, were bobbing about 
 and flaunting their colors, like so many dolphins sporting in the 
 sunshine. Preston was seated in the lone chair at the back of 
 the pulpit, and Boss Joe and Black Jack occupied the settee 
 near him. The latter shortly rose to open the services, and, in 
 a moment, a deep silence fell on the noisy multitude. The old 
 preacher had carefully combed his thin wool into a pj-ramid on 
 the top of his head, and he looked — dressed in glossy black 
 pants, long-tailed blue coat, ruffled shirt, and high shirt collar — 
 like a stuffed effigy at an exhibition of wax figures. Step- 
 ping rather unsteadily to the front of the platform, he flourished 
 his red cotton bandanna, and, spreading his huge claws over 
 the large Bible, said : 
 
 " Dear bred'rin, leff us begin de worship ob de Lord, by 
 
 singin' : 
 
 11 ' From all dat dwell below de skies, 
 Leff de Creator's praise arise.' " 
 
THE NEGKO MEETING. 139 
 
 A half dozen darky fiddlers at the left of the pulpit tuned 
 their strings, and then the whole assemblage rose, and burst 
 into that grand old hymn. As its last echoes came back 
 from the old woods, and died away among the rafters of the 
 little church, Joe got up, and, opening the large Bible, read, in 
 a clear, mellow voice, a portion of the one hundred and nine- 
 teenth Psalm. Then the old darky again came forward. 
 
 Gazing complacently around on the audience for a moment, 
 he drawled out : " My bred'rin, lefif us raise our hearts ter de 
 Lord." The whole congregation then kneeled, and Jack, clos- 
 ing his eyes, clenching his hands together, and throwing his 
 head back, until his nose came nearly on a line with the roof 
 of the building, " lifted up his voice " and prayed. 
 
 After the fashion of very many white preachers, he began 
 by telling the Lord all about Himself; all He had ever done, 
 and all He is going to do ; how long He had lived, and how 
 long He is going to live ; how great He is — " taller dan de 
 mountins, an' bigger dan de seas ; " how He made the world in 
 six days, and then, " gittin' tired, rested on de sevenfh;" how 
 he formed man out of the dust of the ground, and then, out of 
 his rib, formed woman ; how the woman tempted the man, and 
 he fell, and how woman has raised Cain on the earth ever 
 since ; how He sent the flood, and how Noah builded the ark ; 
 how Noah axed all the wild critters into it, and how they 
 all came in two by two, and how Noah and the wild beasts lay 
 down lovingly together, till the wet spell was over ; how 
 Moses, when he came down from the mount, " stumbled, and 
 broke de law ; an' how ebery one ob us dat hab come inter 
 de worle sence, hab stumbled, an' broke de law, 'case he did ; " 
 how Noah, though he was a white man, and had a white wife, 
 
140 MY SOUTHERN FRIENDS. 
 
 begat a black son ; and how that black son was a great sin- 
 ner, and how all his descendants have taken after him, and 
 been mighty big sinners ever since. 
 
 Then he described the sinners, particularly the black sin- 
 ners present ; and if half of what he said was true, every one 
 of them deserved to be sold " down Souf h," and kept on cold 
 hominy and hoecake all the rest of his days. 
 
 The prayer was a strange medley of absurdity, presump- 
 tion, and profanity, and 1 felt relieved to hear his long " amen," 
 and to see Joe rise, and again approach the pulpit. 
 
 Requesting some one present to raise a few of the windows 
 (I took occasion, afterward, to thank him for that very consid- 
 erate action), Joe opened the Bible, and said : " My friends, 
 1 am gwine ter talk ter you from de tex, ' An' dey drew an' 
 lifted up Joseph out ob de pit, an' sold Joseph to de Ishmael- 
 ites fur twenty pieces ob silver ; an' dey brought Joseph inter 
 Egypt.' 
 
 " You all knows," he continued, " de story ob Joseph an' 
 his bred'rin ; how dey wus raised up by dar fader Jacob in a 
 wile country, whar dar warn't no schools, an' no 'telligence, 
 an' no larnin' ; an' how his fader lub'd Joseph more dan all ob 
 his bred'rin, an' made fur him a coat ob many colors. But 
 p'raps you don't know dat de Lord lub Joseph a great sight 
 better'n his fader did, an' 'case He lub him so, dat He harden 
 de hearts ob his bred'rin agin him, till dey sole him ter de 
 Ishmaelites — de slave-traders ob dem davs — ter be taken down 
 inter Egypt. An' p'raps you don't know dat Egypt wus a 
 great country, whar dar wus schools, an' churches, an' great 
 libraries ob books, an' all manner ob sciences ; an' dat Joseph 
 wus made de lord ob all dat country, an' dat finarly he got his 
 
THE NEGRO MEETING. 141 
 
 fader, an' his bred'rin, an' dar wifes, an' all dar little ones, ter 
 come down dar, an' stay ; whar, dough de tasks war some- 
 times hard, an' dey had to 'am dar bred by de sweat ob dar 
 brow, dey could git knowledge an' larnin'. An' p'raps, too, 
 vou don't know dat de chil'ren ob Israel, who war de chil- 
 'ren ob Joseph an' his bred'rin, when dey'd stayed down dar 
 in Egypt de 'pointed time, war taken by de Lord inter de 
 Ian' ob Canaan, which wus a Ian' ' flowin' wid milk an ? honey ; ' 
 an' dat dey war gib'n dat Ian' fur dar possession. Now, my 
 friends," and he paused, and looked around on the congrega- 
 tion, " de story ob Joseph am de story ob de brack man : he 
 hab been taken out ob de pit ; he hab been sole fur twenty 
 pieces ob silver ; he hab been brought inter Egypt, an', bress 
 de Lord, he am -boun' fur de Ian' ob Canaan. 
 
 ".He hab been taken out ob de pit. A pit, my friends, am 
 a dark place, whar de .sun neber shine, an' de light neber 
 come ; an' Africa, de country whar our faders an' our gran'- 
 faders come from, am a pit ; fur de darkness cobers dat Ian', 
 an' gross darkness de people dareof. Dey ha& no does ; dey 
 lib in cabins made ob clay, an' in holes ob de groun' ; dey kill 
 an' eat one anoder, an' dev'm allers at war wid one anoder. 
 But de white man he gwo dar, an' he buy 'em fur twenty 
 pieces ob silver — dat's 'zactly de price — twenty silver dollars — 
 dey pay dat fur 'em up ter dis day — dem pore, ign'rant folks 
 won't take nuffin' but silver. Well, de white man buy 'em, 
 an' he fotch 'em 'ter dis country, which am like de Ian' ob 
 Egypt, full ob schools, ob churches, ob larnin', an' ob all man- 
 ner ob good tings. Shore, we hab ter wuck hard har ; some 
 ob us hab ter bear heaby burdens, an' ter make bricks when 
 we hab no straw ter make 'em wid ; but we am in de Ian' 
 
142 MY SOUTHERN FRIENDS. 
 
 ob Egypt, whar we hab knowledgd ob de Lord ; whar de gos- 
 pil am preach ter us, an' whar we kin fine out de road ter de 
 Ian' ob Canaan. (Ter be shore, we karn't all lam out ob de 
 books ; but book larnin' neber make a man, nohow.) Yas, my 
 friends, yere we kin fine out de road ter de Ian' ob Canaan ; 
 an' do you know what dat Ian' ob Canaan, dat'm waitin' fur de 
 brack man, am ? Do you s'p*>se it am a Ian' whar de days am 
 hot, an' de nights am cole ; whar we'll hoe de cotton, an' gader 
 de turpentine, an' cut de shingles in de swamp ; whar we'll 
 wuck till we drap down ; whar we'll hunger an' furst ; whar 
 de fever will burn in our veins, an' de nager will rattle our 
 bones as de corn am rattled in de hopper ? No, my friends ; 
 'tain't no Ian' like dat ! It am de habitation on high, de city 
 builded ob de Lord, de eberlasting kingdom founded, by de 
 Eternal God, who made heaben an' 'arth, de sea, an' all dat in 
 dem is. Oh ! tink ob dat, my friends, an' hab courage. Tink 
 ob dat when you'm faint an' a weary, an' lefT you' hearts be 
 glad, an' you' souls rejoice in hope. Fur dat Ian' ain't 'spressly 
 fur de white mftn — it am fur de brack man, too ; an' ebery one 
 ob us, eben de brackest, kin git ter it ef we'll jess foller de 
 road — ef we'll jess do our duty, bear meekly our burdens, an' 
 lean humbly on de arm ob de Lord. I knows it am so, my 
 friends — I knows it am so ; fur de oder night, when de deep 
 sleep fell upon me, I dreamed a dream. I fought dar come ter 
 my cabin, an' stood aside ob my bed, a great white angel, wid 
 feet dat touch de 'arth, but wid head dat reach unter de heab- 
 ens. He wore raiment shinin' like silver, an' on his head wus 
 a girdle ob stars. His face wus dazzlin' as de sun, an' his eyes 
 war like flamin' fire. He look at me, an' he say : ' Joseph, 
 come up hither ! ' He reach out his han', an' he lift me up — 
 
THE NEGEO MEETING. ]43 
 
 above de 'arth — above de clouds- — above de stars — 'way up ter 
 de high heabens, whar am de sperrits ob just men made perfect, 
 who hab been redeemed from among men, who hab gone fru 
 great tribulation, whose garments hab been washed clean in de 
 blood ob de Lamb ! ' Dis,' he say, ' am de city ob de libin' 
 God, de heabenly Jerusalem, whose foundations am saffomires, 
 whose walls am silver, whose streets am gole, whose housen am 
 jewels an' all precious stones ! Yere de sun neber sets ; yere 
 de storm an' de hurricane neber come ; an' yere, Joseph, am a 
 dwellin' prepared fur you ; yere, ef you'm faithful an' 'bedient, 
 you shill come, when you' wuck on de 'arth am ober ! ' " 
 
 The speaker had been gradually warming with his subject, 
 till he uttered this last sentence, when his voice trembled, his 
 face glowed, and his upturned eye seemed fixed on the inef- 
 fable glories of the land he was describing. A stillness like 
 that of death fell on the assemblage, and the simple blacks, 
 hanging breathlessly on his words, looked up to where Joe's 
 hanel was pointing, as if they, too, had caught the vision on 
 which his eyes were gazing. In a moment, he continued : 
 
 " I looked roun', an' I seed dat beautiful city ; I breafed its 
 air ; I walked its streets ; I hard its music — de neber-endin' 
 song which its countless people send up ter de throne ob de 
 Great Fader ; an' I say ter de angel : ' Do brack folks lib yere ? 
 Kin dey come ter dis beautiful country ? ' An' he say : ' You 
 shill see.' Den he lead me fru dose shinin' streets, out inter de 
 open fiel's, whar war pleasant pasters, greener dan any on de 
 'arth, an' still waters, dat sparkle in de sun jess like missus' 
 diamonds in de light ob de fire." (I did not know that Mrs. 
 Preston wore diamonds ; she certainly had not worn them in 
 my presence.) " He lead me out, till we come ter a great 
 
144 MY SOUTHERN FRIENDS. 
 
 woods, whar fountins war playin', an' birds war singin', an' 
 flowers war growing an' de air wus full ob fragrance ; an' dar 
 I seed a great crowd ob people gadered togeder, a listenin' ter 
 one dat wus a talkin' ter 'em. Dar wus Abr'ain, an' Isaac, an' 
 Jacob ; Anr wus Moses, an' Joseph, an' Samuel ; dar wus Da- 
 vid, an' Solomon, an' de prophets ; dar wus Paul, an' John, an' 
 Peter ; dar wus 'most all de great an' good men who hab lib'd 
 in de worle ; an' dar, too, right aside ob de one dat wus a 
 speakin', wus de blessed Saviour, wid de woun' in his side, an' 
 de print ob de nails in his hands. An' who do you tink wus a 
 talkin', dar, ter all dem great people ? "Who do you tink 
 wus fought good 'miff ter stan' by de side ob de blessed Sa- 
 viour ? It wus a brack man ! It wus a -brack man, who, 
 down yere, had been ole, an' lame, an' blin', an' ob no account 
 — so no account, he wouldn't sell fur nuffin'. He wus tellin' 
 dem great folks ob de great lub ob de Lord ter him, an' dar 
 tears rolled down as dey hard him. He tole 'em how he use' 
 ter lib in Car'lina ; how he wns a slave ; how he'd 'most nuffin' 
 ter eat ; how he wus wucked in de swamp ; how, 'fore de sun 
 rose, an' 'way inter de night, he use' ter stan' in de mud an' de 
 water, till his bones war sore, his heart wus weary, his soul wus 
 faint ; how his massa flog him, 'case he couldn't wnck no more, 
 till de blood run down his back, an' it wus a ridged like de 
 ploughed groun' ; how his wife wus whipped ter death afore his 
 bery eyes ; how his chil'ren — all 'cept one — war sole 'way from 
 him ; how dat one 'bused him, an' flogged him, an' tormented 
 him, till he wus jess ready ter die ; how, when his hair wus 
 white, his body wus bent, his strength wus gone, an' he wus 
 ole, an' lame, an' blin', his massa drove him 'way, and make 
 him shirk fur himseff ; how he beg in de roads ; how he sleep 
 
THE NEGRO MEETING. 145 
 
 in de woods, in de cole an' de rain, till a good gemman take 
 him in, gib him a bed, 'tend ter his wants, an' pray ober him 
 when he die. He tole 'em all dat ; but he say, dat fru it all, 
 he hab peace ; fru4t all, de Lord wus good ter him ; fru it all, 
 he felt His lub in his heart ; fru it all, de blessed Redeemer 
 wus wid him ; fru it all, he knowed dat mercy an' salvation am 
 in de heabens ! An' dey am dar ! Dey took him 'way — 
 'way from de 'arth — 'way from his sufF'rin's an' his sorrers 
 down yere, ter joy, an' peace, an' rest up dar — up dar, whar all 
 great an' good men call him brudder ; whar de Lord Jehobah 
 call him son, an' whar de blessed Saviour will leff him stan' at 
 his right han', foreber an' eber. An' he, my friends, wus a 
 brack man ! An' who do you s'pose he wus ? "Who do you 
 s'pose he wus ? " 
 
 He paused for a moment, as he repeated the question, and 
 then, in a slow, impressive manner, continued : 
 
 " It wus ole Cale — Cunnel Dawsey's Cale ; an' dat good 
 gemman dat take him in, an' pray ober him when he die, wus 
 my massa. Yas, bless de Lord, it wus my massa ! " 
 
 As Joe uttered these last words, Preston bowed his head, 
 his wife sobbed aloud, and the black people gave out a low cry, 
 as sad as the wail which their own mourners breathe over the 
 dead. Fixing his eyes on a tall, stalwart negro in the audi- 
 ence, the preacher continued : 
 
 " An' he wus yovH fader, Jake ! — you' fader, who, when he 
 wus down yere, you 'bused, an' persecuted, an' treated like a 
 dog, but who, up dar, am fought worthy ter stan' at de Sa- 
 viour's right han' ! I knows it wus him, fur I seed him, I 
 talked wid him, an' he gabe me suffin' ter tell you. Stan' up, 
 now, an' yere what he had ter say." 
 7 
 
14G MY SOUTHERN FRIENDS. 
 
 The black man's face assumed a dogged expression.- He 
 moved uneasily on his seat, but showed no inclination to rise. 
 In a firm, imperious tone, Joe again called out to him : 
 
 " Stan' up, I say ! Folks like you' fader am now, don't 
 talk ter sech as you is when dey'm sittin' down. Stan' up, or 
 I'll gib you what Cunnel Dawsey neber gabe you in all you' 
 life." 
 
 The negro reluctantly rose. Every eye was fixed upon 
 him, as Joe continued : 
 
 " He ax me ter say ter you, Jake, dat he lubs you — lubs 
 you bery much ; dat he fully an' freely furgibs you fur all de 
 wrong you eber done him — fur all de tears an' de sorrer you 
 eber cause him. An' he say ter me : ' Tell Jake dat I'se been 
 down dar, an' seed him. I'se seed how he shirk his wuck ; 
 how he 'buse his wife an' chil'ren ; how he hate his massa, an' 
 mean ter kill him — (dough his massa am hard on him, 'tain't 
 no 'scuse fur dat) ; how he swar, an' He, an' steal, an' teach all 
 de oder brack folks ter do de same ; how he'm no fought ob 
 his soul, no fought ob dyin', no fought ob whar he'm gwine 
 when de Lord's patience am clean done gone wid him. Tell 
 him, dat ef he gwo on dis way, he'll neber see his ole fader no 
 more ; neber see his ole mudder, an' his little brudders, who 
 am up yere, no more ; neber come ter dis fine country, but 
 be shet out inter outer darkness, whar am weepin', an' wailin', 
 an' knashin' ob teeth. Oh ! tell him dis, an' 'treat him, by all 
 his fader's keer fur him when he wus a chile ; by all his lub 
 fur him now ; by all de goodness ob de Lord, who hab borne 
 wid him fru all dese long years, ter turn roun' — ter turn roun', 
 now, an' sot his face toward dis blessed country, whar he kin 
 hab joy foreber ! Tell him, too, dat ef he'll do dis, his ole 
 
TIIE NEGRO MEETING. 147 
 
 fader'll leab his happy home, an' come down dar an' holp him 
 — holp him at his wuck ; holp him ter bar ebery load ; gib him 
 strength when he'm weak ; hole up his feet when he'm weary ; 
 watch ober him day an' night, all de time, till he'm ready ter 
 come up yere, an' lib wid de Saviour foreber ! Tell him " 
 
 Joe paused, for a wild cry echoed through the building, and 
 the negro fell in strong convulsions to the floor. 
 
 A scene of indescribable excitement and confusion fol- 
 lowed, during which the black was carried out, and, more dead 
 than alive, laid upon the ground. When quiet was somewhat 
 restored, Preston made a short and feeling prayer ; and then, 
 after giving out a hymn, he dismissed the congregation with 
 the usual benediction. 
 
CHAPTEK 3JL 
 
 BLACK CLAIRVOYANCE. 
 
 The afternoon exercises at the meeting house were con- 
 ducted by Preston, who publicly catechized the negroes very 
 much in the manner that is practised in Northern Sunday 
 schools. When the services were over, and the family had 
 gathered around the supper table, I said to him : 
 
 " I've an idea of passing the evening with Joe ; he has 
 invited me. "Would it be proper for you and Mrs. Preston to 
 
 go?" 
 
 " Oh, yes ; and we will. I would like to have you see his 
 mother. She is a singular woman, and, if in the mood, will 
 interest you." 
 
 " I think you told me she is a native African ? " 
 " Yes ; she was brought from Africa when a child. She 
 has a dim recollection of her life there, and retains the lan- 
 guage and superstitions of her race," replied Preston, rising 
 from the table. " I think you had better go at once, for she 
 retires early. Lucy and I will follow as soon as we can." 
 ****** 
 
 Joe's cabin was located nearly in the centre of the little 
 collection of negro houses, and a few hundred yards from the 
 mansion. It was of logs, a story and a half high, and had 
 
BLACK CLAIRVOYANCE. 149 
 
 originally been only about twenty feet square. To the primi- 
 tive structure, however, an addition of the same dimensions 
 had been made, and, stretching for more than forty feet along 
 the narrow bypath which separated the two rows of negro 
 shanties, it then presented quite an imposing appearance. A 
 second addition in the rear, though it did rft»t increase its dig- 
 nity in the eyes of " street " observers, added largely to its pro- 
 portions and convenience. 
 
 The various epochs in Joe's history were plainly written on 
 his dwelling. The original building noted the time when, a 
 common field hand, he married a wife, and set up house* 
 keeping ; the front addition marked the era when his indus- 
 try, intelligence, and devotion to his master's interest raised 
 him above the dead level of black servitude, and gave him the 
 management of the plantation ; and the rear structure spoke 
 pleasantly of a later period, when old Deborah, disabled by age 
 from longer service at " the great house," and too infirm to 
 clamber up the steep ladder leading to Joe's attic bedrooms, 
 came to doze away the remainder of her days under her son's 
 roof. 
 
 The cabin was furnished with two entrance doors, and, sus- 
 pecting that the one in the older portion led directly into the 
 kitchen, I rapped lightly at the other. In a moment it opened, 
 and Joe ushered me into the'living room." 
 
 That apartment occupied the whole of the newer front, and 
 had a cheerful, cosy appearance. Its floor was covered with a 
 tidy rag carpet, evidently of home manufacture, and its plas- 
 tered walls were decorated with tasteful paper, and hung with 
 a variety of neatly framed engravings. Opposite the doorway 
 stood a large mahogany bureau, and over it, suspended from 
 
1D0 MY SOUTHERN FRIENDS. 
 
 the ceiling by a leathern cord, was a curiously contrived shelv- 
 ing, containing a score or more of well-worn books. Among 
 them I noticed a small edition of Shakspeare, Milton's "Poems," 
 Goldsmith's "England," the six volumes of "Comprehensive 
 Commentary," Taylor's " Holy Living and Dying," the "Pil- 
 grim's Progress," & " United States Gazetteer," and a complete 
 set of the theological writings of Swedenborg. Neat chintz 
 curtains covered the small windows, a number of brightly bur- 
 nished brass candlesticks ornamented a plain wooden mantle 
 over the broad fireplace, and a yellow-pine table, oiled and var- 
 nished, on which the " tea things " were still standing, occupied 
 the centre of the apartment. 
 
 Through an open door, at the right of the bureau, I caught 
 a glimpse of the dormitory of the aged African. As on the 
 exterior of the building Joe had written a brief epitome of his 
 history, so in that room he had traced a portion of his character. 
 Its comfortable and almost elegant furnishings told, plainer than 
 any words, that he was a devoted and affectionate son. "With 
 its worn woolen carpet, red window hangings, cosy lounge, neat 
 centre table, and small black-walnut bedstead, it might have 
 been mistaken for the private apartment of a white lady of 
 some pretensions. 
 
 It was a little after nightfall when I entered the cabin, but 
 a bright fire, blazing on the hearth, gave me a full view of its 
 occupants. Aggy, a tidily clad, middle-aged yellow woman, 
 was clearing away the supper table, and Joe's mother was 
 smoking a pipe in a large armchair, in the chimney corner. 
 
 The old negress wore a black levantine gown, open in 
 front> and gathered about the waist by a silken cord ; a red and 
 yellow turban, from underneath which escaped a few frosted 
 
BLACK CLAIRVOYANCE. 151 
 
 locks, and a white cambric neckerchief that fell carelessly over 
 her shoulders, and almost hid her withered, scrawny neck. 
 She was upward of seventy, but so infirm that she appeared 
 nearly a hundred. One of her lean, skinny arms, escaping 
 from the loose sleeve of her dress, rested on her knee ; and her 
 bowed, bony frame leaned against the arm of her chair, as if 
 incapable of sitting upright. Her features, with the exception 
 of her nose, which curved slightly upward, were thin and regu- 
 lar ; and her eyes were large, deep, and densely black, and 
 seemed turned inward, as if gazing with a half-wondering stare 
 at the strange mechanism which held together her queer frame- 
 work of bones and gutta percha. 
 
 I recognized her as the old woman who had greeted Pres- 
 ton so affectionately on our arrival. 
 
 Turning to her, as he tendered me a chair, Joe said : 
 
 " Mudder, dis am Mr. Kirke." 
 
 Making a feeble effort to rise, and reaching out her trem- 
 bling hand, she exclaimed, in a voice just above a whisper : 
 
 " You'm welcome yere, right welcome, sar." 
 
 " Thank you, aunty. Pray keep your seat ; don't rise on 
 my account," 
 
 " Tank you, massa Kirke, fur comin' yere. It'm bery good 
 ob you. Ole nussy lub you, sar ; you'm so good ter massa 
 Robert. He'm my own chile, sar ! " 
 
 This was undoubtedly a figure of speech, for the old 
 woman's skin was altogether too black not to have given a 
 trifle of its shading to the complexion of her children. It was 
 not only black, but blue black, and of that peculiar hue which 
 is seen only on the faces of native Africans. 
 
 Seeing that she had relinquished smoking, I said ■ 
 
152 MY SOUTHERN FRIENDS. 
 
 " Never mind me, aunty ; I smoke, myself, sometimes." 
 
 Tank you, sar," she replied, resuming her pipe, and re- 
 lapsing into her previous position ; " ole wimmin lub 'backer, 
 sar." 
 
 The low tone in which this was said, made me conclude 
 that further conversation would be exhausting to her ; so, turn- 
 ing to Joe and Aggy — the latter had hurried through her 
 domestic employments, and taken a seat near the fire — I en- 
 tered into a general discussion of the old worthies that occu- 
 pied Joe's book shelves. 
 
 1 found the negro had taxed them for house room. He 
 had levied on their best thoughts, and I soon experienced the 
 uneasy sensation which one feels when he encounters a man 
 who can " talk him dry " on almost any subject. On the single 
 topic of the business to which I was educated, I might have 
 displayed — had it not been Sunday night — a greater amount 
 of information ; but in knowledge of every subject that was 
 broached, the black was my superior. 
 
 The conversation had rambled on for a full half hour, the 
 old negress meanwhile puffing steadily away, and giving no 
 heed to it ; when suddenly her pipe dropped from her mouth, 
 her eyes closed, her bent figure became erect, and a quick, con- 
 vulsive shiver passed over her. Thinking she was about to fall 
 in a fit, I exclaimed : 
 
 " Joe ! See — your mother ! " 
 
 " Neber min', sar," he quietly replied ; "it'm nuffin'. Only 
 de power am on har." 
 
 A few more convulsive spasms followed, when the old 
 woman's face assumed a settled expression ; and, swaying her 
 body back and forth with a slow, steady motion, she com- 
 
BLACK CLAIRVOYANCE. 153 
 
 menced humming a low chant. Gradually it grew louder, till 
 it broke into a strange, wild song, filling the room, and coming 
 back in short, broken echoes, from the adjoining apartments. 
 Struck with astonishment, I was about to speak, when Joe, 
 laying his hand on my arm, said : 
 
 " Hush, sar ! It am de song ob de kidnap slave ! " 
 
 It was sung in the African tongue, but I thought I heard, 
 as it rose and fell in a wild, irregular cadence, the thrilling 
 story of the stolen black; his smothered cries and fevered 
 moans in the slaver's hold ; the shriek of the wind, and the 
 sullen sound of the surging waves breaking against the ac- 
 cursed ship ; and, then — as the old negress rose and poured 
 forth quick, broken volumes of song — the loud mirth of the 
 drunken crew, mingled with what seemed dying groans, and 
 the heavy splash of falling bodies striking the sea. 
 
 As she concluded — with a firm, stately step, showing none 
 of her previous decrepitude — she approached me. 
 
 Seeing that I regarded her with a look of startled interest, 
 Joe said : 
 
 " Leff har do what she likes, sar. She hab suffin' ter say 
 ter you." 
 
 Taking a small bag* from her bosom, and placing it in the 
 open front of my waistcoat, she reached out her long, skele- 
 ton arm, and, placing her hand on the top of my head, 
 chanted a low song. The words were mostly English, but 
 they have passed from my remembrance. 
 
 * This was the conjuror's bag of the Africans. It is called "waiter," or "kun- 
 ger," by the Southern blacks, and is supposed to have the power to charm away evil 
 spirits, and to do all manner of miraculously good things for its wearer. Those 
 that I have seen are harmless little affairs, consisting only of small pieces of rag3 
 sewed up in coarse muslin. 
 
1 54 M Y S O U T 11 K i; N F BIENDB. 
 
 As she finished the invocation, she took my hands in hers, 
 ami, leaning forward and muttering a few low words, seemed 
 trying to read the story imprinted on my palms. Her eyes 
 were closed, and, thinking she might be troubled to see with- 
 out the use of those organs, I looked inquiringly at her son. 
 
 " She doan't need eyes, sar," said Joe, answering my 
 thought ; " she'll tell all 'bout you widout dem." 
 
 As he said this, she dropped my hands, and, raising her 
 right arm, made several passes over my head ; then, resting 
 her hand again upon it, she began chanting another low song. 
 
 " What do you see, mudder ? " asked Joe, leaning forward, 
 with a look of intense interest on his face. 
 
 The old woman then went on to detail some occurrences in 
 my past life ; and truth obliges me to say that she told them 
 correctly. They were known to her master, and she might 
 have learned them from him ; therefore I was not forced to 
 believe her possessed of supernatural power ; still, as she stood 
 there in the dim light of the burning logs, which lit up her 
 tall, black form, and cast a red glow over her thin, weird fea- 
 tures, a feeling of awe crept over me, and I rose halfway to 
 my feet. 
 
 " Sit still, sar," said Joe, motioning me back into the chair. 
 " You'll break de power." 
 
 " You seem to know the past, old woman," I said. " Tell 
 me the future ! " 
 
 " Stop ! " she replied, with an imperious gesture. " Dey'm 
 comin'." 
 
 All this while she had stood with her hand on my head, as 
 immovable as a statue. Her voice had a deep, strong tone, 
 and her face wore a look of calm power. Nothing about her 
 
BLACK CLAIBYOYANCE. 1 55 
 
 reminded me of the weak, decrepit old woman she had seemed 
 but an hour before. 
 
 11 Dey'm yere ! " she said ; and, in another moment, the 
 door opened, and Preston and his wife entered. 
 
 Without rising or speaking, Joe motioned them to two 
 vacant chairs. As they seated themselves, I said : 
 
 " She has told me some curious things." 
 
 " She has strange powers," replied Preston. 
 
 " Hush, Robert Preston. De swanga gemraan ax fur de 
 future ! " 
 
 Shading, then, her closed eyes with one hand, and leaning 
 forward, as if peering into the far distance, the old negress laid 
 her other hand again on my head, and proceeded to tell me the 
 future. It was portrayed allegorically, and seemed singularly 
 bound up with Preston's. As I look back now, on the twenty 
 years which have passed since then, and think of some of her 
 predictions, and of some events which have occurred in my life, 
 I have to admit that the old slave woman had a wonderful 
 talent at guessing. However, who is there that has not been 
 startled by the strange foretellings of some gipsy, black or 
 white ? And yet, who believes that any eye but that of the 
 All-Seeing can pierce the thick cloud which veils the future ? 
 
 The next morning I bade. adieu to my kind friends,. and 
 started again on my journey. Preston accompanied me as far 
 as "Wilmington, where we parted : he going on to Whitesville, 
 in search of the new turpentine location ; and I proceeding, 
 by the Charleston boat, southward. 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 A SCHOOLMISTRESS AND A WIFE. 
 
 Returning to my home, a few weeks after the events 
 narrated in the previous chapter, in pursuance of a promise 
 made to Preston, I inserted an advertisement in the papers, 
 which read somewhat as follows : 
 
 " "Wanted, a suitable person to go South, as governess in 
 a planter's family. She must be thoroughly educated, and 
 competent to instruct a boy of twelve. Such a one may apply, 
 by letter ; " &c., &c. 
 
 A score of replies flowed in within the few following days, 
 but, being excessively occupied with a mass of personal busi- 
 ness, which had accumulated in my absence, I laid them all 
 aside, till more than a week had passed. Then, one even- 
 ing, I took them home, and Kate and I opened the batch. As 
 each one was read by my wife or myself, we commented on the 
 character of the writers, as indicated by the handwriting and 
 general style of the epistles. Rejecting about two thirds as 
 altogether unworthy of attention, we reserved the remaining 
 half dozen for a second inspection. Among these, the one 
 with the cramped, precise chirography was thought to come 
 
A SCHOOLMISTRESS AND A WIFE. 157 
 
 from an old maid. Another, where five lines of rail fence cov. 
 ered a sheet nearly as large as a ten-acre lot, was the produc- 
 tion of a strong-minded woman. A third, on tinted paper, and 
 dotted with blots and erasures, was from a fat lady, who wore 
 her shoes down at the heel, and got up too late for breakfast. 
 " But here, Kate," I exclaimed, as I opened the fourth missive, 
 "this one, in this firm yet ladylike hand — this one will do. 
 Hear what it says : 
 
 " ' Sir : I think I can answer your requirements. A line 
 addressed to Catharine Walley, B , N. H., with full par- 
 ticulars, will receive immediate attention/ 
 
 " That's the woman, Kate — a business man in petticoats ! 
 She can manage a boy of twelve ! " 
 
 " Or a man of twice that age," said Kate, quietly reading 
 the letter. " I wouldn't have that woman in my house." 
 
 u Why not ? She has character, take my word for it. 
 Her letter is as short and sweet as a ' promise to pay.' " 
 
 " She has too much character, and not of the right sort. 
 There is no womanliness about her." 
 
 M You women are always hard on your own sex. She'll 
 have to manage Joe, and she'll need to be half man to do that. 
 I think I had better write her to come here. I can tell what 
 she is when I see her. I can read a woman like a book." 
 
 There was a slight twinkle in my wife's eyes when I said 
 this, and she made some further objections ; but I overruled 
 them, and, on the foDowing morning, despatched a letter, invit- 
 ing Miss Walley to the city. 
 
 Returning to my office from " 'Change," one afternoon, a 
 
158 MY SOUT1IEUN FBIENDS. 
 
 few days afterward, I found a lady awaiting me. She rose, as 
 I entered, and gave her name as Miss W alley. She was pre- 
 possessing and ladylike in appearance, and there was a certain 
 ease and self-possession in her manner, which I was surprised 
 to see in one directly from a remote country town. She wore 
 a plain gray dress, with a cape of the same material ; a straw 
 *hat, neatly trimmed with brown ribbon, and, on the inside, a 
 bunch of deep pink flowers, which gave a slight coloring to her 
 otherwise pale and sallow, but intellectual face. Her whole 
 dress indicated refinement and taste. She was tall and slight, 
 with an almost imperceptible stoop in the shoulders, the result 
 of a studious habit ; but you forgot this seeming defect in her 
 easy and graceful movements. Her brown hair was combed 
 plainly over a rather low and narrow forehead ; her face was 
 long and thin, and her small, clear gray eyes were shaded by 
 brown eyebrows meeting together, and, when she was talking 
 earnestly, or listening attentively, slightly contracting, and 
 deepening her keen and thoughtful expression. Her nose was 
 long, and rather prominent ; and her mouth and chin were 
 large, showing character and will ; but their masculine expres- 
 sion was relieved by a short upper lip, which displayed to full 
 advantage the finest set of teeth I ever saw. 
 
 Referring at once to the object of her visit, she handed me 
 a number of credentials, highly commendatory of her character 
 and ability as a teacher. I glanced over them, and remarked 
 that they were satisfactory. She then questioned me as to the 
 compensation she would receive, and the position of the family 
 needing her services. Answering these inquiries, I added that 
 I was prepared to engage her on the terms I had named. 
 
 " I have been in receipt of the same salary as assistant in a 
 
A SC II O OI.11 ISTUES S 1NJ) A WIFE. -159 
 
 scliool in my native village," she replied ; " but what you 
 say of the family of Mr. Preston, and a desire to visit the 
 South, will induce me to accept the situation." 
 
 " When will you be ready to go, madam ? "' I asked. 
 
 " At once. To-day, if necessary." 
 
 Surprised, and yet pleased with her promptness, I said : 
 
 " And are you entirely ready to go so far on so short 
 notice ? " 
 
 " Yes. The cars leave in the morning, I am told. I will 
 start then." 
 
 "And alone?" 
 
 " Yes. We Yankee girls are accustomed to takeing care 
 of ourselves." 
 
 " I admire your independence. But you pass the night in 
 town ; you will, I trust, spend it at my house ? " 
 
 " Thank you." 
 
 Ordering a carriage, and stopping on the way at a hotel to 
 get the single trunk which contained her wardrobe, I conveyed 
 her to mv residence. 
 
 After supper, we all gathered in the parlor, and I set about 
 entertaining our guest. I had to make little effort to do that, 
 for her conversation soon displayed a knowledge of books and 
 people, and a wit and keenness of intellect, that decidedly enter- 
 tained me. She was not only agreeable, but brilliant, and, in 
 the course of the evening, made some pleasant overtures to the 
 children. Frank, with a book in his hand, had drawn his chair 
 off to another part of the room, and showed, at first, uncom- 
 mon reserve for a lad of his warm and genial nature ; but 
 gradually, as if in spite of himself, he edged nearer to her. 
 Our little " four-year-old," however, resisting the offered temp 
 
ICO MY SOUTHERN FRIENDS. 
 
 tation of watch and chain, and even sugarplums, repelled 
 her advances, and hid his curly head only the more closely in 
 the folds of his mother's dress. Kate listened and laughed; 
 but I caught occasionally, as her eyes studied the visitor atten- 
 tively, a troubled expression, which I well understood. After 
 a while the lady expressed a wish to retire, that she might 
 N obtain the rest needed for an early start by the morning train, 
 and Kate conducted her to her apartment. 
 
 I felt highly delighted with the idea of being able to send 
 Mrs. Preston so agreeable a companion, and not a little vexed 
 with my wife for not sharing my enthusiasm. When she 
 returned to the parlor, I said : 
 
 " Kate, why do you not like her ? " 
 
 " I can hardly tell why" she replied, " but my first impres- 
 sion is confirmed. I would not trust her. Why does she go 
 South for the same salary she has had in New Hampshire ? " 
 
 u Because she wants to see the world ; she's a stirring 
 Yankee woman." 
 
 " No ; because you told her of Mr. Preston's position in 
 society ; and because she hopes to win a plantation and a rich 
 planter." 
 
 %l Nonsense," I replied. " You misjudge her." 
 
 " I tell you, Edmund, she is a cold, selfish, sordid woman ; 
 all intellect, and no heart. If I had never seen her face, I 
 should have known that by her voice, and the shake of her 
 hand." 
 
 But it was too late — I had engaged her ; and at seven 
 o'clock on the following morning she was on her way to the 
 South. 
 
 I soon received information of her safe arrival at the plan- 
 
A SCHOOLMISTRESS AND A WIFE. 101 
 
 tation, and the warm thanks of Preston for having sent him so 
 
 agreeable a person, and one so well fitted to instruct his children. 
 
 ****** 
 
 The turpentine location was soon secured, and, early in the 
 following spring, Joe, with about a hundred " prime hands," 
 commenced operations in the new field. Constantly increasing 
 shipments soon gave evidence of the energy with which the 
 negro entered upon his work ; and, by the end of the year, 
 Preston had not only paid the advances we made on receiving 
 the deed of the land, but also the note I had given for the pur- 
 chase of Phyllis. For the first time in five years he was en- 
 tirely out of our debt. 
 
 The next season he hired a force of nearly two hundred 
 negroes, and generously gave Joe a small interest in the new 
 business, with a view to the black's ultimately buying his free- 
 dom. His transactions soon became large and profitable both 
 to him and to us. Shortly afterward he paid off the last of his 
 floating debt, and his balances in our hands grew from nothing 
 till they reached five and seven, and often ten thousand dollars. 
 
 But heavy affliction overtook him in the midst of his pros- 
 perity. His wife and two eldest daughters were stricken down 
 by a prevailing epidemic, and died within a fortnight of each 
 other. A letter which I received from him, at this time, will 
 best relate these events. It was as follows : 
 
 " My dear Friend : I have sad, very sad news to tell you. 
 A week ago to-day, I followed the remains of my beloved wife 
 to the grave. Overcome by watching with our children, and 
 grief at their loss, about three weeks since she took their dis- 
 ease, and, sinking rapidly, soon resigned her spotless spirit to 
 
162 MY SOUTHERN FRIENDS. 
 
 the hands of her Maker. Overwhelmed by this threefold afflic- 
 tion, I have not been able to write you before. Even now I 
 can hardly hold a pen. I am perfectly paralyzed ; I can 
 neither act nor think — I can only feel. 
 
 11 You, who have seen her in our home, can realize what she 
 was to my family ; but none can know what she has been to me 
 — companion, friend, guide ! My stay and support through long 
 years of trial, she is taken from me just as prosperity is dawn- 
 ing on me, and I was hoping to repay, by a life of devotion, 
 some part of what she had borne and suffered on my account. 
 Another angel has been welcomed in heaven, but I am left 
 here — alone — alone, with my grief and my remorse ! 
 
 " My son is inconsolable, and even little Selly seems to real- 
 ize the full extent of her loss. The poor little thing will not 
 leave me for a moment. She is now the only comfort I have. 
 Miss "Walley has been unremitting in her kindness and atten- 
 tion, taking the burden of everything upon herself. Indeed, I 
 do not know what I should have done without her. 
 
 " Time may temper my affliction, but now, my dear friend, 
 I am not Robert Preston." 
 
 ****** 
 
 Nothing worthy of special mention occurred to the persons 
 whose history I am relating, till about a year after the death 
 of Mrs. Preston. Then, one day late in the autumn, I received 
 information of her husband's approaching marriage with the 
 governess. In the letter which invited me to be present at the 
 ceremony, Preston said : " No one can ever fill the place in my 
 heart that is occupied, and will ever be occupied, by the mem- 
 ory of my sainted wife ; but Miss "Walley has rendered herself 
 indispensable to me and my family. My studious habits and 
 
A SCHOOLMISTRESS AND A WIFE. 1G3 
 
 ignorance of business made me, as you know, even in my full 
 liealfh and strength, a poor manager ; and, during the past 
 year, grief has so impaired my spirits, that I have been utterly 
 unfitted for attending to the commonest affairs. But for Miss 
 Walley, everything would have gone to waste and ruin. With 
 the efficiency of a business man, she has attended to my house- 
 hold, overseen my negroes, and managed my entire plantation. 
 In the first months of my bereavement, when grief so en- 
 tirely overwhelmed me that I saw no one, I did not know to 
 what censorious remark her disinterested devotion to my inter- 
 ests was subjecting her ; but recently I have realized the im- 
 propriety of a young, unmarried woman occupying the position 
 she holds in my household. Miss "Walley, also, has felt this, 
 and some time since notified me, though with evident reluc- 
 tance, that she felt it imperatively necessary to leave my ser- 
 vice. What, then, could I do ? My people needed a mistress, 
 my children a mother. She was both. Only one course 
 seemed open; and, after mature deliberation, I offered her my 
 hand, frankly stating that my heart is with the angel who, 
 lost to me here, will be mine hereafter. Satisfied with my 
 friendship and esteem, she has accepted me, and we are to be 
 married on the 26th inst. ; when I sincerely trust that you, 
 my dear friend, and your estimable lady, will be present." 
 
 That night I took the letter home to my wife. She read 
 it, and, laying it down sadly, said : 
 
 " Oh, Edmund ! I fear. — I greatly fear for his future !" 
 * * * * * . * 
 
 Two years went by, and I did not meet Preston, but our 
 business relations kept us in frequent correspondence, and his 
 letters occasionally alluded to his domestic affairs. 
 
164 MY SOUTHERN FRIENDS. 
 
 Very soon after his marriage with the governess, his son 
 went to live with his uncle, Mr. James Preston, of Mobile, a 
 wealthy bachelor, who long before had expressed the intention 
 of having the boy succeed to his business and estate. " Boss 
 Joe " continued in charge of the turpentine plantation, and had 
 built him a house, and removed his wife and aged mother to 
 his new home. On one of my visits to the South, I stopped 
 overnight with him, and was delighted with his model estab- 
 lishment. Two hundred as cheerful-looking darkies as ever 
 swung a turpentine axe, were gathered in tents and small shan- 
 ties around his neat log cabin, and Joe seemed as happy as if 
 he were governor of a province. 
 
 His operations had grown to such magnitude, that Preston 
 then ranked among the largest producers of the North Caro- 
 lina staple, and his " account " had become one of the most 
 valuable on our books. Though we sent " accounts current " 
 and duplicates of each " account sales " to his master, our regu- 
 lar " returns " were made to Joe ; and no one of our corre- 
 spondents held us to so strict accountability, or so often ex- 
 pressed dissatisfaction with the result of his shipments, as he. 
 
 " I thinks a heap of you, Mr. Kirke," he said, at the close 
 of one of his letters about this time ; " but the fact am, thar's 
 no friendship in trade, and you did sell that lass pile of truck 
 jess one day too sudden." 
 
CHAPTER XIY. 
 
 FEANK. 
 
 Two more years rolled away. Frank was nearly sixteen. 
 He had grown up a fine, manly lad, and never for one moment 
 had Kate or I regretted the care we had bestowed on his edu- 
 cation and training. He was all we could have wished for in 
 our own son, and in his warm love and cheerful obedience we 
 both found the blessing invoked on us by his dying mother. 
 
 His affection for Kate was something more than the com- 
 mon feeling of a child for a parent. With that was blended a 
 sort of half worship, which made him listen to her every word, 
 and hang on her every look, as if she were a being of some 
 higher order than he. They were inseparable. He preferred 
 her society to that of his young companions ; and often, when 
 he was a child, seated by her knee, and listening, when she 
 told of his " other mother " in the " beautiful heaven," have I 
 seen his eye wander to her face, with an expression which 
 plainly said : " My heart knows no ■ other mother ' than you." 
 Kate was proud of him ; and well she might be, for he was a 
 comely youth ; and his straight, closely knit, sinewy frame, 
 dark, deepset eyes, and broad, open forehead, overhung with 
 thick, brown hair, only outshadowed a beautiful mind, an open, 
 
1GG MY SOUTHERN FRIENDS. 
 
 upright, manly nature, whose firm and steady integrity nothing 
 could shake. 
 
 About this time I received a letter from his father, which, 
 as it had an important bearing on the lad's future career, I give 
 to the reader : 
 
 "Boston, September 20th, 185-. 
 
 " Dear Sir : A recent illness has brought my past life in 
 its true light before me. I see its sin, and I would make all 
 the atonement in my power. I cannot undo the wrong I have 
 done to one who is gone, but I can do my duty to her child. 
 You, I am told, have been a father to him. / would now 
 assume that relation, and make you such recompense for what 
 you have done, as you may require. I am too weak to travel, 
 or, indeed, to leave my house, but I am impatient to see my 
 son. May I not ask you to bring him to me at once ? Then 
 I will arrange all things to your satisfaction. 
 
 " I need not tell you, after saying what I have, that I should 
 feel greatly gratified to possess once more your confidence and 
 regard. I am sincerely yours, 
 
 " John Hallet." 
 
 In another hand, was the following postscript : 
 
 " My dear Boy : John is sincere. Thee can trust him. 
 He has told me all. He will do the right thing. Come on 
 with the lad as soon as thee can. Love to Kate. 
 
 " Thy old friend, David." 
 
 After conferring with my wife, I sent the following reply 
 to these communications : 
 
 
FBANK. 1G7 
 
 "New York, September 22<7, 185-. 
 
 u David of Old : Thou man after the Lord's own heart. 
 I have Hallet's letter, seasoned with your P. S. He is shrewd. 
 He knew that nothing but your old-fashioned hand would 
 draw a reply from me, to any thing written by him. 
 
 " I've no faith in sick-bed repentances ; and none in John 
 Hallet, sick or well. 
 
 " ' When the devil was sick, 
 The devil a monk would be ; 
 When the devil got well, 
 The devil a monk was he.' 
 
 u However, as Hallet is capable of cheating his best friend, 
 even the devil, I will take his letter into consideration ; but it 
 having taken him sixteen years to make up his mind to do a 
 right action, it may take me as many days to come to a de- 
 cision on this subject. 
 
 " Frank is everything to us ; and nothing but the clearest 
 conviction that his ultimate good will be promoted by going to 
 his father, will induce us to consent to it. 
 
 11 I do not write Hallet. You may give him as much or as 
 little of this letter as you think will be good for him. 
 
 " Kate sends love to you and to Alice ; and, dear David, 
 with all the regard I felt for you when I wore a short jacket, 
 and sat on the old stool, 
 
 "lam your devoted friend, Edmund." 
 
CHAPTER XV. 
 
 EUSSELL, ROLLINS & CO. 
 
 It was a dingy old sign. It had hung there, in sun and 
 rain, till its letters were faint and its face was furrowed. It 
 had looked down on a generation that had passed away, and 
 seen those who placed it there go out of that doorway, never 
 to return ; still it clung to that dingy old warehouse, and still 
 Russell, Rollins & Co. was signed in the dingy old counting 
 room at the head of the stairway. It was known the world 
 over. It was heard of on the cotton fields of Texas, in the 
 canebrakes of Cuba, t and amid the rice swamps of Carolina. 
 The Chinaman spoke of it as he sipped his tea and plied his 
 chopsticks in the streets of Canton ; and the half-naked negro 
 rattled its gold as he gathered palm oil and the copal gum on 
 the western coast of Africa. Its plain initials, painted in black 
 on a white ground, waved from tall masts over many seas, and 
 its simple " promise to pay," scrawled in a bad hand on a nar- 
 row strip of paper, unlocked the vaults of the best bankers in 
 Europe. And yet it was a dingy old sign ! Men looked up 
 to it as they passed by, and wondered that a cracked, weather- 
 beaten board, that would not sell for a dollar, should be counted 
 " good for a million." 
 
 It was a dingy old warehouse, with narrow, dark, cob- 
 
RUSSELL, EOLLINS AND CO. 169 
 
 webbed windows, and wide, rusty iron shutters, which, as the 
 bleak October wind swept up old Long "Wharf, swung slowly 
 on their hinges with a sharp, grating creak. I heard them in 
 my boyhood. Perched on a tall stool at that old desk, I used 
 to listen, in the long winter nights, to those strange, wild cries, 
 till I fancied they were voices of the uneasy dead, come back 
 to take the vacant seats beside me, and to pace again, with 
 ghostly tread, the floor of that dark old counting room. They 
 were a mystery and a terror to me ; but they never creaked 
 so harshly, or cried so wildly, as on that October night, when, 
 for the first time in nine years, I turned my steps up the trem- 
 bling old stairway. N 
 
 It was just after nightfall. A single gas burner threw a 
 dim, uncertain light over the old desk, and lit up the figure of 
 a tall, gray-haired man, who was bending over it. He had 
 round, stooping shoulders, and long, spindling limbs. One of 
 his large feet, encased in a thick, square-toed shoe, rested on 
 the round of the desk ; the other, planted squarely on the floor, 
 upheld his spare, gaunt frame. His face was thin and long, 
 and two deep, black lines under his eyes contrasted strangely 
 with the pallid whiteness of his features. His clothes were of 
 the fashion of those good people called u Friends," and had 
 served long as his " Sunday best," before being degraded to 
 daily duty. They were of plain brown, and, though not shab- 
 by, were worn and threadbare, and of decidedly economical 
 appearance. Everything about him, indeed, wore an economi- 
 cal look. His scant coat tails, narrow pants, and short waist- 
 coat, showed that £he cost of each inch of material had been 
 counted ; while his thin hair, brushed carefully over his bald 
 
 head, had not a lock to spare ; and even his large, sharp bones 
 8 
 
1*70 MY SOUTHERN FEIENDS. 
 
 were covered with only just enough flesh to hold them com. 
 fortably together. He had stood there till his eye was dim and 
 his step feeble ; and though he had, for twenty years — when 
 handing in each semiannual trial balance to the head of the 
 house — declared that was his last, everybody said he would 
 continue to stand there till his own trial balance was struck, 
 and his earthly accounts were closed forever. 
 
 As I entered, he turned his mild blue eye upon me, and, 
 taking my hand warmly in his, exclaimed : 
 
 " My dear boy, I am glad to see thee ! " 
 
 11 1 am glad to see you, David. Is Alice well ? " 
 
 " Very well. And Kate, and thy babies ? " 
 
 "All well," I replied. 
 
 " Thee has come to see John ? " 
 
 " Yes. How is he ? " 
 
 " Oh ! better ; he got out several days ago. He's inside 
 now ; " and, opening the door of an inner office, separated from 
 the outer one by a glass partition, he said : " John, Edmund is 
 here." 
 
 A tall, dark man came to the door, and, with a slightly 
 flurried and embarrassed manner, said : 
 
 " Ah, Mr. Kirke ! I'm glad to see you. Please step in." 
 
 As he tendered me a chair, a shorter and younger gentle- 
 man, who was writing at another desk, sprang from his seat 
 and, slapping me familiarly on the back, exclaimed : 
 
 " My dear fellow, how are you ? " 
 
 " Very well, Cragin ; how are you f " I replied, returning 
 his cordial greeting. 
 
 11 Good as new — never better in my life. It's good for 
 one's health to see you here." 
 
RUSSELL, ROLLINS AND CO. 1 7 1 
 
 " I have come at Mr. Hallet's invitation." 
 
 " Yes, I know. Hallet has told me you've a smart boy 
 you want us to take. Send him along. Boston's the place to 
 train a youngster to business." 
 
 The last speaker was not more than thirty, but a bald spot 
 on the top of his head, and a slight falling in of his mouth, 
 caused by premature decay of the front teeth, made him seem 
 several years older. He had marked but not regular features, 
 and a restless, dark eye, that opened and shut with a peculiar 
 wink, which kept time with the motion of his lips in speaking. 
 His clothes were cut in a loose, jaunty style, and his manner, 
 though brusque and abrupt, betokened, like his face, a free, 
 frank, whole-souled character. He was several years the junior 
 of the other, and as unlike him as one man can be unlike an- 
 other. 
 
 The older gentleman, as I have said, was tall and dark. 
 He had a high, bold forehead, a pale, sallow complexion, and 
 wore heavy, gray whiskers, trimmed with the utmost nicety, 
 and meeting under a sharp, narrow chin. His face was large, 
 his jaws wide, and his nose pointed and prominent ; but his 
 mouth was small, and gathered in at the corners like a rat's ; 
 and, as if to add to the rat resemblance, its puny, white teeth 
 seemed borrowed from that animal. There was a stately pre- 
 cision in his manner, and a stealthy softness in his tread, not 
 often seen in combination, which might have impressed a close 
 observer as indicative of a bold, pompous, and yet cunning 
 character. 
 
 These two gentlemen — Mr. Hallet and Mr. Cragin — were 
 the only surviving partners of the great house of Russell, Rol- 
 lins & Co. 
 
172 MY SOUTHERN Fill ENDS. 
 
 11 Have you brought him with you ? " asked Hallet, his 
 voice trembling a little, and his pale face flushing slightly as he 
 spoke. 
 
 " No, sir," I replied ; "I thought I would confer with you 
 first. I have not yet broached the subject to the lad." 
 
 Some unimportant conversation followed, when Hallet, 
 turning to Cragin, asked : 
 
 " Are all the letters written for to-morrow's steam- 
 er ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Cragin, rising ; " and I believe I'll leave you 
 two together. As you've not spoken for ten years, you must 
 have a good deal to say. Come, David," he called out, as he 
 drew on his outside coat, " let's go." 
 
 "No; don't take David," I exclaimed; "I want to talk 
 with the old gentleman." 
 
 " But you can see him to-morrow." 
 
 11 No ; I return in the morning." 
 
 " "Well, David, I'll tell Alice you'll be home by nine." 
 
 11 Oh ! that's it," I said, laughing. " It's Alice who makes 
 you leave so early on steamer night." 
 
 " Yes, sir ; Alice that is, and Mrs. Augustus Cragin that is 
 to be — when I get a new set of teeth. Good night ; " and, 
 saying this, he took up his cane, and left the office. 
 
 When he was gone, Hallet said to me : 
 
 " Do you desire that David should be a witness to our 
 interview ? " 
 
 " I want him to be a party to it. "W"e can come to no 
 arrangement without his cooperation." 
 
 Hallet asked the bookkeeper in. "When he was seated, I 
 said : 
 
RUSSELL, ROLLINS AND CO. 173 
 
 u "Well, Mr. Hallet, what do you propose to do for your 
 son ? " 
 
 " To treat him as I do my other children. Do all but ac- 
 knowledge him. That would injure him." 
 
 " That is not important. But please be explicit as to what 
 you will do." 
 
 " David tells me that the lad's inclinations tend to busi- 
 ness, and that you have meant to take him into your office. 
 I will take him into mine, and, when he is twenty-one — 
 if he has conducted himself properly, give him an in- 
 terest." 
 
 11 1 shall be satisfied with no contingent arrangement, sir. 
 I know Frank will prove worthy of the position." 
 
 " Very well ; then I will agree definitely to make him a 
 partner when he is of age." 
 
 " "Well, Mr. Hallet, if Frank will consent to come, I will 
 agree to this, with certain conditions. I told his mother, when 
 she was dying, that I would consider him my own child ; there- 
 fore I cannot give up the control of him. He must regard me 
 and depend on me as he does now. Besides, I cannot let him 
 come here, and have no home whose influence shall protect 
 him from the temptations which beset young men in large 
 cities. David must take him into his family, and treat him as 
 he treated me when I was a boy ; and — this must be reduced 
 to writing." 
 
 Hallet showed some emotion when I spoke of Frank's 
 mother, but his face soon resumed its usual expression, and he 
 promptly replied : 
 
 u I will agree to all that ; but I would suggest that the fact 
 of his being my son should not be communicated to him ; that 
 
174 MY SOUTHERN FRIENDS. 
 
 it should be confined to us three. I ask tins, believe me, only 
 for the sake of my family." 
 
 " I see no objection to that, sir ; and I think Frank, for Ins 
 own sake, should not know what his prospects are." 
 
 Hallet signified assent, and, turning to David, I asked : 
 
 " David, what do you say ? "Will you take him ? " 
 
 " I will," said the old bookkeeper, showing, in his expendi- 
 ture of breath, the close economy which was the rule of his 
 life. 
 
 " Nothing remains but to arrange his salary, and the share 
 he shall have when he becomes a partner," I remarked to 
 Hallet. 
 
 " "Will an average of seven hundred a year, and an eighth 
 interest when he's twenty-one, be satisfactory ? " 
 
 " Entirely so. An eighth in your house will be better than 
 a quarter in ours. As it is now all understood, let David draw 
 up the papers. "We will sign them, and leave them with him 
 till I see Frank." 
 
 " Very well. David, please to draw them up," said Hal- 
 let ; and then, his voice again trembling a little, he added : 
 11 All is understood, Mr. Kirke, but the compensation I shall 
 make you for your fatherly care of my much-neglected son. 
 Money cannot pay for such service, but it will relieve me to re- 
 imburse you for your expenditures." 
 
 " I have had my pay, sir, in the love of the boy. I ask no 
 more." 
 
 Hallet was sensibly affected, but, without speaking, he 
 turned to the desk, and took down his bankbook. In a few 
 moments he handed me a check. It was for five thousand dol- 
 lars. I took it, and, hesitating an instant, said : 
 
RUSSELL, ROLLINS AND pO. 175 
 
 "I will keep this, s,ir, not for myself, but for Frank. It 
 may be of service to him at some future time." 
 
 u Keep it for yourself sir, not for him. He will not need 
 it He shall share equally with my other children." 
 
 11 1 am glad to see this spirit in you. Frank will be 
 worthy of all you do for him." 
 
 " It is not for his sake that I will do it," replied Hallet, his 
 voice tremulous with emotion ; " it is that I may have the for- 
 giveness o£ the one I — I — " He said no more, but, leaning 
 his head on Ins hand, he wept ! 
 
 No one spoke for some minutes ; at last David rose, 
 and, handing me one of the papers, laid the other before 
 Hallet. 
 
 " This appears right," I said, after reading it over care- 
 fully. 
 
 " Yes," replied Hallet, taking up a pen and signing the 
 other. Passing it to me, he added : " Keep them both — take 
 them now." 
 
 u But Frank may not wish to come." 
 
 " Then I will find some other way of helping him. He is 
 my son ! Take the papers." 
 
 "Well, as you say," I replied. "David, please to witness 
 this." 
 
 Hallet pressed me to pass the night at his house, but I de- 
 clined, and rode out to Cambridge with the old bookkeeper. 
 With many injunctions to watch carefully over Frank, I left 
 him about twelve o'clock, rode into town with Cragin, and the 
 next morning started for New York. 
 
 That night, as I recounted the interview to Kate, I 
 said : ■» 
 
170 MY SOUTHERN FRIENDS 
 
 • 
 
 " I never did believe in these Rouble-quick conversions ; 
 
 but Ilallet is an altered man." 
 
 11 Then, indeed, can the leopard change his spots." 
 
 As usual, her womanly intuitions were right ; my worldly 
 
 wisdom was wrong I 
 
CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 SELM A. 
 
 Not long after the events I have just related, the mail 
 brought me the following letter from Preston : 
 
 u My very dear Friend : Circumstances, which I cannot 
 explain by letter, render it imperatively necessary that I 
 should provide another home for my daughter. Her education 
 has been sadly neglected, and she should be where she can 
 have experienced tutors, and good social surroundings. With 
 her delicate organization, and sensitive and susceptible nature, 
 she needs motherly care and affection, and I shrink from com- 
 mitting her to the hands of strangers. I should feel at rest 
 about her only with you. You have been my steadfast friend 
 through many years ; you have stood by me in sore trials ; 
 may I not, then, ask you to do me now a greater service than 
 you have ever done, by receiving my little daughter into your 
 family ? I know this is an unusual, almost presumptuous re- 
 quest ; but if you knew her as she is — gentle, loving, obedient 
 — the light and joy of all about her, I am sure you, and your 
 excellent lady, would love her, and be willing to make her the 
 companion of your children. She is my only earthly comfort, 
 
 and it will rend my heart to part with her, but — I must. 
 8* 
 
178 MY SOUTIIEliN Fit I ENDS. 
 
 " 'Write me at once. You are yourself a father — do not 
 refuse me" 
 
 To this, on the next day, I sent the following reply : 
 
 " My dear Friend : I would most cheerfully take your 
 daughter into my family, did my wife's health, which has been 
 failing all the summer, admit of her assuming any additional 
 care. 
 
 u I think, however, I can provide Selma with a home 
 equally as good as my own ; one where good influences will be 
 about her, and she w r ill have the best educational advantages. 
 I refer to the family of Mr. David Gray, of Cambridge, Massa- 
 chusetts. He was my father's friend. The years I was a boy 
 with Russell, Rollins & Co., I was an inmate of his house ; 
 and my adopted son, Frank, is now in his care. His daughter 
 Alice is a most suitable person to have charge of a young girl. 
 She is like a sister to me, and, to oblige me, would no doubt 
 take Selma. 
 
 " Please advise me of your wishes ; and believe, my dear 
 friend, I will do all in my power to serve you." 
 
 I was sitting down at supper, one evening, about a fort- 
 night after sending this letter, when a gentleman was an- 
 nounced as wishing to see me. I rose, and went into the par- 
 lor. It was Preston, and with him was Selma, then a beautiful 
 little girl of about eleven years. 
 
 Asking Preston to lay aside his outside coat, I was struck 
 by his altered appearance. It was four years since we had 
 met, but, looking at him, I imagined it might be ten. His 
 
SELMA. 179 
 
 eyes were sunken, deep furrows were about his mouth, and his 
 brown hair was thickly streaked with gray. 
 
 " My dear friend," I exclaimed, as I grasped his hand a 
 second time, " you are not well ! " 
 
 " I am as well as usual, Kirke. Time has not done this ! " 
 
 Fatigued with the long journey, Selma had retired, and our 
 own little ones were in bed, when Kate joined us in the parlor. 
 
 " You do look ill, Mr. Preston," she said, seating herself 
 beside him. " You must stay a while with us, and rest." 
 
 " I would be glad to stay here, madam — anywhere away 
 from home." 
 
 " The care of two plantations, such as yours, must be a 
 burden." 
 
 "It is not that, madam; Joe relieves me entirely from 
 oversight of one of them. My difficulty is at home — it is 
 not what yours is." 
 
 Kate's sympathizing words soon drew him out (she has a 
 way of winning the confidence of people, and is the depositary 
 of more family secrets than any other woman in the State) ; 
 and he told us what his home had become since his union with 
 the governess. 
 
 Within two months after the marriage her real character 
 began to display itself, and she soon developed into a genuine 
 Xantippe. Getting control of Mulock, who had been made 
 overseer, she had the negroes dreadfully whipped and over- 
 worked ; she treated young master Joe so badly that the lad 
 rebelled, and, in his father's absence, ran away to his uncle at 
 Mobile ; and locking Selma up in a dark room, without food, 
 or beating her till her back was actually discolored, she made 
 the child's home intolerable to her. 
 
180 MY SOUTHE11N F It I E tf D S . 
 
 After master Joe went away, no one dared complain ; and 
 shut up in his library, brooding over his still fresh grief for the 
 death of his wife, Preston knew nothing of the real state of 
 affairs till more than a year had elapsed. Then, one day, he 
 found Selma in tears. He questioned her, and learned the 
 whole. A scene followed, in which Mrs. Preston asserted her 
 rights as mistress of the plantation, and defied him. She had 
 run into all sorts of extravagance ; the yearly bills, which had 
 come in a short time previous, were appallingly large, but, to 
 secure peace, Preston consented to buy and furnish a winter 
 residence at Newbern. To that she had removed ; but, with 
 the coming spring, she would return to the plantation, and in 
 the mean time Selma must be provided with another home. 
 
 " Feel no anxiety about her, sir," said Kate, as he con- 
 cluded ; " if Alice Gray will not take her, we will." 
 
 " I thank you, madam ; I cannot thank you enough for say- 
 ing that," replied Preston, his eyes filling with tears. 
 
 I wrote at once to David, and soon received a letter from 
 Alice consenting to take charge of the little girl. Thanksgiv- 
 ing, at which time Kate made annual visits to her early home, 
 was approaching, and it was decided that Selma should accom- 
 pany her to Boston. 
 
 This being arranged, Preston, at the end of a fortnight, 
 took leave of us, and returned to the South. The parting 
 between the father and the child gave evidence of what they 
 were to each other. Preston wept like a woman ; but as Kate 
 brushed back the brown curls from the broad forehead of little 
 Selly, she raised her eyes to my wife's face, and, while her thin 
 nostrils dilated, and her sensitive chin slightly quivered, said : 
 
 " I must not cry, for poor papa's sake — it is so very hard 
 
SKLMA. 181 
 
 for him to go home alone ; and he will miss his little girl so 
 much." 
 
 " You are right, dear child," said Kate ; and, as if looking 
 into the far future of the woman, and feeling that such a nature 
 must suffer as well as enjoy keenly, she inwardly thanked God 
 that, with her delicate organization, He had given her the un- 
 selfish and brave heart which those words expressed. 
 
 ****** 
 
 Four years ■ had wrought great changes in David's quiet 
 home. Alice had become Mrs. Augustus Cragin, and a little 
 Alice tottled about the floor ; but after supper, David still 
 found his evening cigar on the oak stand, his needlework slip- 
 pers — wrought by Alice's own hand — in their place before the 
 fender, and his large armchair rolled up close to the gas burner 
 in the little back parlor at Cambridge. 
 
 Frank was twenty, and had fulfilled the promise of his 
 boyhood. His father, after the honeymoon of his repentance 
 was over, showed no great interest in him ; but Cragin, who 
 knew nothing of my arrangement with Hallet, had given him 
 all the advantages in his power. 
 
 Selma was only fifteen, but, like the flowers of her own 
 South, she had blossomed early, and was already a*woman. 
 Preston had visited her every summer, but she never returned 
 with him, having preferred passing her vacations at my house. 
 
 In David's loving household nothing had occurred to dis- 
 turb her peaceful life. Beloved by her teachers and school- 
 mates, she everywhere received the homage due to her beauty 
 and her goodness ; and in the gay world into which her joyous 
 nature often led her, she was the acknowledged and unenvied 
 queen ! Her father had spared no pains in her education ; the 
 
182 MY SOU T 11 E UN 1'EIENDS. 
 
 best tutors had trained her fine ear and sweet voice, and taught 
 her to give form and coloring to the pictures her glowing 
 imagination created ; and, whether her fingers ran over the 
 keys of a musical instrument, or wielded the brush, there was 
 a delicacy and yet spirit in her touch, which were the wonder 
 and admiration of all. 
 
 I was not surprised, when visiting Boston about this time, 
 to have Frank tell me that he loved her, and ask my consent 
 to his regarding her as his future wife. 
 
 ****** 
 
 Kate and I were to leave for home on the following day, 
 and, calling at the office in the afternoon, I said to Frank : 
 
 " I have tickets for the opera, including Selma ; of course 
 you'd like to have her go." 
 
 " Yes, father ; she has never been, and I have promised to 
 take her this winter. She'll be able, now, to appreciate it." 
 
 The box I had selected was at a happy distance from the 
 stage, and we gave Selma a front seat, that she might see to 
 the best advantage. She was in high spirits ; indeed, she was 
 radiant in her beauty. She wore a dark blue dress of silk, 
 fitting closely to her neck, and its short sleeves allowed the 
 plump, fair arms to half disclose themselves from beneath the 
 scarlet mantle which fell around her shoulders. Her hair fell 
 over her neck in the same simple fashion as in her childhood, 
 except that the thick curls, which had lost their golden tint, 
 and were darker and longer, were looped back from her broad 
 forehead, with a few simple flowers. There was the same contour 
 of face and feature, but ennobled by thought and culture ; the 
 same sensitive mouth, only that the lips were fuller, and of a 
 deeper color ; and, as she talked or listened, the same rose tint 
 
SELMA. 183 
 
 deepened and faded beneath her rich, soft, dark skin, as sun- 
 light shifts and fades across the evening sky. Jler eyes, in 
 whose dark depths the soul was reflected, met a stranger's 
 calmly, but took a soft look of loving trust when meeting 
 Frank's. They were shaded by long lashes, as black as the 
 night ; and when the lids fell suddenly, as they often did, and 
 her face became quiet, and almost sad, you felt that she was 
 communing with the angels. 
 
 The overture burst forth, and, with glowing face, and eyes 
 fixed upon the stage, Selma seemed lost to all but the enrap- 
 turing sounds ; even Frank's whispered words were unheeded. 
 As the opera — "Lucia di Lammermoor" — proceeded, I saw 
 that every eye was attracted to our box, and, bending forward 
 to catch Selma's expression, I called Kate's attention to her. 
 With her head thrown slightly back, a bright spot burning on 
 either cheek, her breath suspended, the large tears coursing 
 from her eyes, and motionless as a statue, she sat with her 
 small hands clasped on the front of the box, as if entranced, 
 and all unconscious of the hundred eyes that were fixed upon 
 her. I thought of the pictures I had seen in the old galleries 
 of Europe, but I said, " Surely, art cannot equal nature ! " 
 
 When it was over, she took Frank's arm. I turned to 
 question her, but Kate said : 
 
 " Let her alone ; she cannot talk now." 
 
 ****** 
 
 The transactions of Russell, Rollins & Co. extended the 
 world over ; but, since the death of Mr. Rollins, which oc- 
 curred prior to Frank's going with them, they had cultivated 
 particularly the Southern trade, and their operations in cotton 
 had grown to be enormous. They bought largely of that 
 
184 MY SOUTHERN FKIENDS. 
 
 staple on their own account, and for some extensive manufac- 
 turing establishments in England. Their purchases were 
 chiefly made in New Orleans, and, to attend to this business, 
 Hallet had passed the winters in that city for several years. 
 
 His wealth had grown rapidly, and, at the date of which I 
 am writing, he ranked among the " solid men " of Boston. 
 Cragin was not nearly so wealthy. Being on intimate terms 
 with the latter, I remarked, as we were enjoying a cigar to- 
 gether one evening at David's, on the occasion of the visit to 
 which I have referred in the this chapter : 
 
 " How is it, Cragin, that you pass for only a hundred thou- 
 sand, when Hallet is rated nearly a million ? " 
 
 " Because, Ned, I'm not worth more." 
 
 " But how is that, when you have two fifths of the con- 
 cern ? " 
 
 " Well, Hallet went into cotton like the devil some ten 
 years ago ; and I told Jiim I wouldn't stand it. I like to feel 
 the ground under me. Since then he has speculated on his 
 own account ; he and old Roye go it strong, and I guess 
 they've made some pretty heavy lifts." 
 
 " That's uncertain business." 
 
 " Yes, devilish uncertain ; but, somehow, they manage 
 always to hold winning cards. Hallet has told me his New 
 Orleans operations have netted him four hundred thousand." 
 
 " And that, with what he got by his wife, has rolled him 
 into a millionaire before he's forty-five ! He's a lucky fellow." 
 
 " Lucky ! I wouldn't stand in his boots. TV hat goes up, 
 may come down. He has no peace. His wife's a hyena. 
 She makes home too hot for him ; and, somehow, he's never 
 easy. He walks about as if treading on torpedoes." 
 
SELMA. 185 
 
 " If you dislike speculation, why not increase your legitii 
 mate business ? " 
 
 " Hallet's away so much, I can't. I'm glued to the old 
 office. I ought to have been in Europe half of the time the 
 last three years, but I haven't been able to get away." 
 
 " Why not send Frank ? He's old enough now." 
 
 " I mean to, in the spring ; and I'm d — d if he sha'n't be 
 a partner soon, and take some of this load off my shoulders. 
 But do you know that Hallet has a decided dislike to him ? " 
 
 " No ! On what account ? " I. exclaimed. I had met 
 Hallet only twice during four years, but on both occasions he 
 had spoken favorably of his son. Frank himself had never 
 alluded in other than respectful terms to his father. 
 
 " Well, I don't know, and it makes no difference. I'm 
 captain at this end of the towline, and I swear he shall go in." 
 
 u As you feel so kindly toward Frank, I'll give him a 
 chance to conciliate Hallet. I'll take him South, this winter, 
 and introduce him to our correspondents. With his address 
 he ought to do something with them. Will you let him go ? " 
 
 "Yes, and be right down glad to have him. When do 
 you start ? " 
 
 " About the middle of December." 
 
 A fortnight afterward, with Selma and Frank, I again 
 visited Preston's plantation. 
 
CHAPTER XYTL 
 
 A PLANTATION CHRISTMAS. 
 
 It was Christmas morning when wc rode up the long, 
 winding avenue, and halted before the doorway of ''Forest 
 Lake" — the new name which the Yankee schoolmistress, 
 aping the custom of her Yankee cousins, had bestowed on 
 Preston's plantation. The day was mild and sunshiny, and the 
 whole population of the little patriarchate was gathered on the 
 green in front of the mansion, distributing Christmas presents 
 among the negroes. "When we came in sight, from behind the 
 thick cluster of liveoaks which bordered the miniature lake, 
 the whole assemblage sent up a glad shout, and hurried up to 
 welcome us. And such a welcome ! " As she sprang from the 
 carriage, Selma was caught in her father's arms, then in " mas- 
 ter Joe's," and then, encircled by a cloud of dark beauties, 
 each vieing with the other in boisterous expressions of affec- 
 tion, she was the victim of such a demonstration as would 
 have done the heart of Hogarth good to witness. In the 
 midst of it a slight, delicate woman rushed from the house, 
 and, crowding into the thick group around Selma, threw her 
 arms about her neck, and, nearly smothering her with kisses, 
 exclaimed : 
 
 " My chile ! my chile ! I sees you at last ! " 
 
A PLANTATION CHRISTMAS. 187 
 
 "Yes, Phylly," said Selma, returning her caresses; "and 
 haven't I grown ? I thought you wouldn't know me." 
 
 " Know you ! Ain't you my chile — my own dear chile ! " 
 and, pressing Selma's cheeks between her two hands, and gaz- 
 ing at her beautiful face for a moment, she kissed her over and 
 over again. 
 
 My arms had been nearly shaken off, when I noticed 
 " Boss Joe " limping toward me, his head uncovered, and his 
 broad face shining from out his gray wool like the full moon 
 breaking through a mass of clouds. 
 
 " How are you, old gentleman ? " I exclaimed, grasping 
 him warmly by the hand. 
 
 " Right smart ! right smart, massa Kirke. Glad you'm 
 come, sar." 
 
 " And you're home for Christmas ? " 
 
 " Yas, sar. I'se come ter see massa Robert, an' ter tend 
 ter hirin' a new gang. But darkies am high dis yar, sar." 
 
 " How much are they ? " 
 
 " "Well, dey ax, roun' yere, one fifty, an' 'spenses dar an' 
 back ; an' it'm a pile, when you tink we hab used up 'most all 
 de new trees." 
 
 "But you must have many second-year cuttings." 
 
 " Yas, right smart ; but No. 2 rosum doan't pay at sech 
 prices fur darkies." 
 
 Turning to Preston in a moment, I said : 
 
 "Do not let us interfere with the 'doinV ; it's just what 
 we want to see." 
 
 " Well, come, you folks," said Joe, hobbling back to the 
 green ; " lefF us gwo on now." 
 
 Preston, Selma, and Phyllis went into the house, but the 
 
188 MY SOUTHERN FRIENDS. 
 
 rest of us followed the grinning group of Africans to the 
 centre of the lawn, where several large packing boxes, and a 
 long table, something like a carpenter's bench, were piled high 
 with a miscellaneous assortment of dry goods and groceries. 
 
 " Now, all you dat hab heads, come up yere," shouted Joe, 
 seating himself on the bench ; " but doan't all come ter onst." 
 
 One by one the men and boys filed past him, and, selecting 
 a hat or cap from a couple of boxes near, he adjusted a cover- 
 ing to each woolly cranium that presented itself; interspersing 
 the exercise with humorous remarks on their respective phreno- 
 logical developments : 
 
 " Pomp, you's made fur a preacher, shore. Dat dar head ob 
 your'n gwoes up jess like a steeple. I'll hab ter gib you a cap, 
 Dave ; you'm so big ahind de yeres, none ob dese hats '11 fit, 
 nohow. Jess show de back ob you' head t'o ony gemman, an' 
 he'll say you'm one ob de great ones ob de 'arth. None ob 
 dese am big 'miff fur you, Ally," he continued, as a tall, well- 
 clad mulatto man stepped up to him. " You' bumps hab 
 growed so sence you took ter de swamp, dat nuffin'll cober you 
 'cept massa Robert's hat, or de gal Rosey's sunshade." 
 
 The yellow man laughed, but kept on trying the hats. 
 Finding one, at last, of suitable dimensions, he turned away to 
 make room for another candidate for cranial honors. As I 
 caught a full view of his face, I exclaimed : 
 
 " Why, Ally, is that you ? " 
 
 " Yas, massa ; it'm me," he replied, making a respectful 
 bow. 
 
 " And you live here yet ? " 
 
 " Yas, massa. Hope you's well, massa ? " 
 
 11 Very well. And your mother — how is she ? " 
 
A PLANTATION CHRISTMAS. 189 
 
 u Oh I «he*m right smart, sar.* 
 
 u Yas, Tna3sa, 1'se right smart ; an' Fse bery glad ter see 
 'ou, massa," said a voice at my elbow. It was Dinah, no 
 longer clad in coarse osnaburg, but arrayed in a worsted gown, 
 and a little grayer and a little bulkier than when I saw her 
 eight years before. 
 
 " Why, Dinah, how well you look ! " I exclaimed, giving 
 her my hand. " And you've come up to spend Christmas 
 with Ally ? * 
 
 " No, massa, I libs yere. I'se free now, massa ! " 
 
 "Free! So you've made enough to buy yourself ? I'm 
 glad to hear it." 
 
 " No, massa. Ally — de good chile — he done it, massa." 
 
 u Ally did it ! How could he ? He's not more than 
 twenty now ! " 
 
 " No more'n he hain't, massa ; but he'm two yar in massa 
 Preston's swamp, wid a hired gang. Massa Preston put de 
 chile ober 'em, an' gib him a hafT'ob all he make, an' he'm 
 doin' a heap dar, massa." 
 
 " And with his first earnings he bought his mother ! " 
 
 " Yas, massa ; wid de bery fuss." 
 
 "Ally, give me your hand," I exclaimed, with unaffected 
 pleasure ; " you're a man ! You're worthy of such a mother ! " 
 
 u Yas, he am dat, massa ! He'm wordy ob onyting ; an' 
 he'm gwine ter hab a wife ter day, massa. Boss Joe am 
 gwine ter marry 'em, an' ter gib 'em him own cabin fur dar 
 Chrismus giff." 
 
 " Well, Joe is a trump. I'll remember him in my will for 
 that, aunty, sure." 
 
 " Dat'm bery good ob 'ou, massa ; but I reckon 'ou can't 
 
190 MY SOUTHERN FRIENDS. 
 
 tink who Ally'rn gwine ter flab, massa," said the old woman, 
 her face beaming all over. 
 
 " No, I can't, Dinah. Who is she ? " 
 
 " It'm little Rosey, dat 'ou buy ob de trader, massa ; an' 
 she'm de pootiest little gal all roun' yere ; ebery one say dat, 
 massa." 
 
 " Indeed ! And they are to be married to-day ? " 
 
 " Yas, massa, ter day — dis evenin'. 'Ou'll be dar, woan't 
 'ou, massa ? " 
 
 " Yes, certainly I will." 
 
 The old woman and Ally then mingled with the crowd of 
 negroes, and I turned my attention once more to Joe's opera- 
 tions. The men had been supplied with head gear, and the 
 women were receiving their turbans — gaudy pieces of red and 
 yellow muslin. 
 
 " Now, all you boys an' gals," shouted Joe, as he dealt out 
 a handkerchief to the last of the dusky demoiselles, " you all 
 squat on de groun', an' shovel off you' shoes." 
 
 Down they went in every conceivable attitude, and, uncov- 
 ering their feet, commenced pelting each other with the cast-off 
 leathers." When the sport had lasted a few minutes, Joe sang 
 out : 
 
 " Come ! 'nufF ob dat ; now ter bis'ness. Yere, you yaller 
 monkeys" (to several amalgamated specimens of white lead 
 and Spanish brown), " tote dese 'mong 'em." 
 
 The young chattels did as they were bidden, and, as each 
 heavy brogan was fitted to the pedal extremity of some one of 
 the darkies, the newly-shod individual sprang to his feet, and 
 commenced dancing about as if he were the happiest mortal in 
 existence. 
 
A PLANTATION CHRISTMAS. 191 
 
 " Dat'm it," shouted Joe ; " frow up you' heels ; an' some 
 ob you gwo an' fotch de big fiddle. "We'll hab a dance, an' 
 show dese Nordern gemmen de raal poker." 
 
 " But we hain't hed de dresses — nor de soogar — nor de 
 'backer — nor none ob de whiskey," cried a dozen voices. 
 
 " Shet up, you brack crows I You can't hab anoder ting 
 till ye'se hed a high ole heel-scrapin'. Yere, massa Joe ; you 
 come up yere, an' holp me wid de 'strum entals," said Boss Joe 
 grinning widely, and getting up on the carpenter's bench. 
 
 In a few moments, the " big fiddle," one or two smaller 
 fiddles, and three or four banjoes were brought out, and the 
 two Joes, and several ebony gentlemen, seating themselves on 
 the boxes of clothing, began tuning the instruments. Soon 
 " Boss Joe" commenced sawing away with a gusto that might 
 have been considered out of keeping with his gray hairs, his 
 sixty years, and his clerical profession. " Massa Joe " and the 
 others striking in, the male and female darkies paired off two 
 by two, and to a lively air began dancing a sort of " cotillion 
 breakdown." Other dances followed, in which the little ne- 
 groes joined, and soon the air rang with the creak of the fiddles 
 and the merry shouts of the negroes. In the midst of it my 
 arm was touched lightly, and, turning round, I saw Rosey and 
 Dinah. 
 
 "I'se got de little gal yere, massa," said the latter, looking 
 as proud as a hen over her first brood of chickens. M She glad 
 ter see 'ou, massa." 
 
 I gave Rosey my hand, and made a few good-natured com- 
 pliments on her beauty and her tidy appearance. She had a 
 simple, guileless expression, and met my half-bantering remarks 
 with an innocent frankness that charmed me. She was only 
 
192 MY SOUTHERN FRIENDS. 
 
 sixteen, but had developed into a beautiful woman. Her form 
 was slight and graceful, with just enough embonpoint to give 
 the appearance of full health ; and her thin, delicate features, 
 large, wide-set eyes, and clear, rosy complexion, bore a strong 
 resemblance to Selma's. It was evident they were children of 
 the same father ; and yet, one was to be the wife of a poor 
 negro, the other to marry the son of a " merchant prince." 
 
 As the dancing concluded, Boss Joe's fiddle gave out a 
 dying scream, and, turning to me, he sang out : 
 
 " "War dar eber sprightlier nigs dan dese, massa Kirke ? 
 Doan't dey beat you' country folks all holler ? " 
 
 " Yes, they do, Joe. They handle their heels as nimbly as 
 elephants." 
 
 I spoke the truth ; most of them did. 
 
 The distribution of the presents was resumed ; and, as each 
 negro received his full supply of flour, sugar, tea, coffee, mo- 
 lasses, tobacco, and calico, grinning with joy over his new 
 acquisitions, he staggered off to his quarters. "When the last 
 box was nearly emptied, with young Preston and Frank, I 
 adjourned to the mansion. 
 
 The exterior of the "great house" was unchanged, but its 
 interior had undergone a complete transformation. The plain 
 oak flooring of the hall had been replaced by porcelain tiling, 
 and the neat, simple furniture of the parlors by huge mirrors ; 
 rosewood and brocatelle sofas and lounges ; velvet tapestry car- 
 pets, in which one's feet sank almost out of sight ; and im- 
 mense paintings, whose aggregate cost might have paid off one 
 half of the mortgage that encumbered the plantation. 
 
 Selma and her father were engaged in earnest conversa- 
 tion when we entered the drawing room, and, being unwill- 
 
A PLANTATION CHRISTMAS. 193 
 
 ing to interrupt them, I was about to retire, but he rose, and 
 said: 
 
 " Come in, Kirke ; I will call Mrs. Preston. She will be 
 glad to see you." 
 
 The lady soon entered. It was eight years since we had 
 met, but time had touched her gently. Her face wore its old, 
 decided, yet quiet expression, and her manner showed the easy 
 self-possession I had noticed at our first interview. She was 
 richly dressed, and had on a heavy satin pelisse, and a blue 
 velvet bonnet, as if about to ride out. 
 
 "When the usual greetings were over, she remarked : 
 
 " You have been here some time, sir ? " 
 
 " Yes, madam ; we arrived about two hours ago ; but I 
 met some old friends outside, and the pleasure of seeing them 
 has made me a little tardy in paying my respects to you." 
 
 " The negroes, you mean, sir," she replied, with a slight 
 toss of the head, and a look of cool dignity which well became 
 her. 
 
 " Yes, madam ; I have many friends among the blacks. 
 On some plantations they look for my coming as they do for 
 Christmas." 
 
 "It is quite rare to meet a white gentleman so fond of 
 negroes," she rejoined, with an air slightly more supercilious. 
 
 I remembered her as the humble schoolmistress, whose 
 entire possessions were packed in one trunk ; and, forgetting 
 myself, said, in a tone which bore a slight trace of indignation : 
 
 " More rare, I fear, than it should be ; but you and I, 
 
 madam, who are Yankees, and have ' worked for a living,' 
 
 cannot surely despise the negroes because they are compelled 
 
 to work for theirs." 
 9 
 
194 MY SOUTHERN FRIENDS. 
 
 " Oh 1 no, sir ; not by any means ! But you must excuse 
 me ; the carriage is waiting to take me to church ; " and, 
 rising, she bowed herself stiffly out of the door. 
 
 11 Ah, you hit her there ! " exclaimed Joe, springing to his 
 feet in great glee, and striding to the window. u See here, 
 Mr. Kirke ! See what a turnout the Yankee ' schulemarm ' 
 has worried out of father ! " 
 
 " My son, you must not speak so ; she is your mother ! " 
 said Preston. 
 
 11 No, I'm d — d if she is ! Call her anything but that, 
 
 father; that's " He checked himself; but I thought he 
 
 would have added, " an insult to my dead mother 1 " 
 
 Preston made no reply. 
 
 Looking out of the window, I saw Mrs. Preston being 
 handed into a magnificent barouche by one of the black gentry 
 she so much despised. Another, in gaudy gold livery, sat on 
 the box ; and a mounted outrider, also bound up in gold braid, 
 stood behind the carriage. 
 
 " There's a two-thousand-dollar turnout, and two fifteen- 
 hundred-dollar niggers to tote a woman who ought to go afoot. 
 It's a poor investment, I swear," said Joe, turning away from 
 the window. 
 
 Preston made no reply ; but I laughingly remarked : 
 
 " Come, Joe, she isn't your wife. Let your father spend 
 his money as he* pleases ; he can afford it." 
 
 " He carit afford it ; that woman is running him to the 
 devil at a two-forty gait. You have more influence with him 
 than any one, Mr. Kirke ; do try to stop it ! " 
 
 The young man spoke in a decided but regretful tone, and 
 his manner showed more respect to his father than his words 
 
A PLANTATION CUKISTMAS. 195 
 
 implied. Unwilling to interfere in such an affair, I^said noth- 
 ing ; but Preston, in a moment, remarked : 
 
 " It is true, Kirke ! Her extravagance has ruined my 
 credit at home, and forced me to use Joe's indorsements. 
 Besides, I have had to borrow ten thousand dollars of him to 
 keep my head above water." 
 
 [Mr. James Preston — the Squire's uncle — had died the 
 year before, and the young man had succeeded to his large 
 property and business.] 
 
 I was thunderstruck ; but, before I could reply, Joe 
 said : 
 
 "I don't care a rush for the money. Father can have 
 every dollar I've got ; but I do want to see him rid of that 
 woman. I've been here sick for two months, and I've seen 
 the whole. She is worrying the very life out of him. She's 
 made- him an old man at forty." 
 
 It was true. His face was lean and haggard, and his hair 
 already thickly streaked with white. 
 
 Preston rose, and, walking the room, said : 
 " But what, am I to do ? You yourself, Joe, would not 
 have all this made public. You've as much pride about it as I 
 have." 
 
 " I've not a bit of pride about it, father ; and it's public 
 now. Everybody knows it, and everybody says you ought to 
 cut her adrift." 
 
 " What had I better do ? Tell me, my friend," said Pres- 
 ton, still walking the room. 
 
 "I cannot advise you, Preston. An outsider should ex- 
 press no opinion on such matters." 
 In a moment, Preston said : 
 
196 MY SOUTHERN FRIENDS. 
 
 " "Weft, Joe, no more of this now. I'll do what is right, 
 however much it may wound my pride." 
 
 The conversation turned to other subjects, till Mrs. Pres- 
 ton's return from church, shortly after which dinner was an- 
 nounced. The lady presided at the table with as much ease 
 and grace as if she had been born to the position ; and, in her 
 charming conversation, I almost forgot the revelations of the 
 morning. The rest of the day I spent with Joe and Frank, 
 strolling over the plantation, and mingling with the negroes, 
 who, freed from work, were enjoying themselves in a very 
 " miscellaneous manner." Preston remained at the house with 
 Selma. 
 
CHAPTEK XVIII. 
 
 FAMILY JABS. 
 
 It was nearly dark when we returned to the mansion. 
 Looking in at the parlor, and not finding his father there, Joe 
 led the way at once to the library. The door was ajar, and, as 
 we entered the passage way, loud voices were issuing from it. 
 
 " I tell you, Mr. Preston, I am mistress of this plantation. 
 He shall not go ! " 
 
 "Pardon me, madam, he shall, and to-night," returned a 
 mild but decided voice, which I recognized as Preston's. 
 Being unwilling to overhear more, I turned away, but Joe 
 caught me by the arm, exclaiming : 
 
 " If you are my father's friend, go in. If you don't, he 
 will back down ; he has done so forty times." 
 
 Preston was a man of more than ordinary firmness, but his 
 wife had the stronger will. She seemed possessed of a sort of 
 magnetic power, which enabled her to control others almost 
 arbitrarily. 
 
 Reluctantly I followed the young man into the room. 
 Preston was seated before the fire, and Selma, with her arm 
 about his neck, was standing near him. Mulock, better clad 
 than when I witnessed his purchase by the " fast " young 
 planter, but wearing a sullen, dogged expression, was leaning 
 
198 MY SOUTHERN FRIENDS. 
 
 against the centre table; and Mrs. Preston, gesticulating 
 wildly, and her face glowing with mingled rage and defiance, 
 stood within a few feet of her husband. Not heeding our 
 entrance, she exclaimed : 
 
 " I will have my way. If you send him off, I will never 
 darken your doors again." 
 
 " That is as you please, madam," replied Preston. " Mr. 
 Kirke and Frank, pray be seated." 
 
 Stung by her husband's coolness, the lady turned fiercely 
 upon- Joe, and, shaking her clenched hand in his face, cried 
 out : 
 
 " This is your work. I will teach you better than to med- 
 dle in my affairs." 
 
 " Madam, you act well," said the young man, taking a step 
 toward the door. " Pray come out to the quarters ; poor as 
 they are, every negro will give a bit to see you play." 
 
 In uncontrollable rage, she struck him a smart blow in the 
 face, and rushed from the room. 
 
 "When she had gone, Preston turned to Mulock : 
 
 " Now go. The amount due you I shall retain to offset, in 
 part, what you have tempted the negroes to steal. You can 
 come here once a week — on Sunday — to see Phylly ; but if 
 you have any more dealings with the hands, I will prosecute 
 you on the instant." 
 
 Mulock rose, put on his slouched hat, and, a dull fire burn- 
 ing in his cold, snakelike eyes, slowly said : 
 
 11 "Wall, Squire, I'll gwo ; but 'counts 'tween you an' me 
 ain't settled yit." 
 
 As he went, Selma leaned forward, and, kissing Preston's 
 cheek, said : 
 
FAMILY JARS. 199 
 
 " father ! I'm so glad you didn't speak harshly to her." 
 
 Preston put his arm about her, and replied : 
 
 " You helped me, my child. I should be a better, happier 
 man, if you were with me." 
 
 " And I will be, father ; I won't go away any more." 
 
 " But Frank ? " said Preston, again kissing her. 
 
 " Oh ! you know we're not to be married for a good while 
 yet. I'll stay with you till then, father." 
 
 " Ah ! there she goes," said Joe, looking out at the win- 
 dow, which commanded a view of the porte cocker e ; "she 
 can't get to Newbern till ten ; but the night air won't hurt 
 her." 
 
 u Then she makes Newbern her home ? " 
 
 " Yes, she spends the winters there ; she came here only 
 yesterday." 
 
CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 THE NEGRO WEDDING. 
 
 Ally and Rosey were to be married* in the little church ; 
 and, directly after supper, we all went to the wedding. The 
 seats had been removed from the centre of the building, for, 
 though duly consecrated to the use of the saints, the sinners 
 were to exercise their heels in it after the ceremony was over. 
 At its farther extremity, the carpenter's bench of which I have 
 spoken, elongated at both ends, and covered with a white table 
 cloth, was piled high with eatables ; indicating that a time of 
 " great refreshment " was at hand. The bounteous supply of 
 ham, chicken, wild duck, roast pig, fish, hoecake, wheat bread, 
 tea, coffee, milk, and pumpkin and sweet-potato pies, under 
 which the bench groaned, showed that some liberal hand had 
 catered for the occasion. 
 
 Black Joe, dressed in his " Sunday best," was seated on the 
 rustic settee at the back of the desk, and Phyllis and Dinah 
 occupied chairs inside the low railing which faced the pulpit. 
 Phyllis looked careworn and sad, but Ally's mother was as 
 radiant as a brass kettle in a blaze of light wood. She wore a 
 
 * Usually there is no marriage ceremony performed at the union of slaves. 
 They simply agree, tacitly or otherwise, to live together till death or their master 
 parts them. 
 
A NEGRO WEDDING. 201 
 
 white dress, stiffly starched, and expanded by immense hoops, 
 and a crimped nightcap, whose broad border flapped about like 
 the wino-s of a crowing rooster ; and she looked, for all the 
 world, like a black ghost in a winding sheet, escaped from 
 below, and bound on a " good time generally." Two " shining 
 lights," on either side of the pulpit, held aloft blazing torches 
 of pine, illuminating the sea of grinning darkness, and send- 
 ing up a smoke like that arising from the pit which is said to 
 be bottomless. About a hundred darkies were present ; and 
 the number of glossy coats, fancy turbans, gaudy bonnets, red 
 shawls, and flaming dresses, w r hich the light disclosed, was 
 amazing. The poor worm that grubbed in the earth had 
 appeared (" for that occasion only") as a butterfly ; and Laza- 
 rus, rid of his rags, had come forth dressed like a Broadway 
 dandy. 
 
 Any person of sensitive olfactories would have halted in 
 the doorway ; but I elbowed through the wholly gathering, 
 and followed Frank and Selma to the family pew. Tittering, 
 laughing, and flaunting their red and yellow kerchiefs, the 
 black people were enjoying themselves amazingly, when " Dar 
 dey comes," "Dar'm de happy pussons," went round the assem- 
 blage, and the bride and groom, attended by two sable couples, 
 entered the building. After some ludicrous mistakes, they got 
 "into position" in front of the railing, and Black Joe took a 
 stand before them. 
 
 Rosey was dressed in white, with a neat fillet of pink and 
 blue ribbon about her head ; and Ally wore a black frock coat, 
 with white vest, and white cotton gloves. One of the grooms- 
 men — a rustic beau from a neighboring plantation — wore an 
 immensely long-tailed blue coat with brass buttons, a flaming 
 9* 
 
202 MY SOUTHERN FRIENDS. 
 
 red waistcoat, yellow woollen mittens, and a neckerchief that 
 looked like a secession flag hugging a lamppost. Both of these 
 gentry had hats of stovepipe pattern, very tall, and with nar- 
 row brims ; and — they wore them during the ceremony. 
 
 " Silence in de meetin'," cried Joe. 
 
 The boisterous sea of black wool subsided to a dead calm. 
 Those not already standing, rose, and Joe commenced reading 
 the marriage service of the Episcopal Church. 
 
 The parties immediately interested appeared to have conned 
 their lessons well, for they made all the responses with great 
 propriety ; but some of the congregation seemed less familiar 
 with the service. "When Joe repeated the words, M If ony 
 man kin show cause why dese folks should not be lawfully 
 jined togedder, leff him now speak, or else foreber hole his 
 peace," Dinah turned to the audience, and cried out : 
 
 " Yas, jess leff him come out wid it now. I'd like ter see 
 de man dat's got onyting agin it." 
 
 No one appeared to have " onyting agin it," and Joe pro- 
 ceeded to read the words : " I require and charge you, if either 
 of you know any impediment," etc. In the midst of it, a 
 voice called out : 
 
 " Dar ain't no 'pedimen', Boss Joe ; I knows dat. Gwo 
 on, sar ! " " Dat's so, brudder," said another voice. " Dat's 
 de Lord's trufh," echoed a third. " Doan't be 'sturbin' de 
 meetin' ; de young folks want de splicin' done," cried a fourth ; 
 and " Amen," shouted a dozen. 
 
 " Shet up, all on you ! " yelled Joe, turning on them with 
 an imperious gesture. " Ef you hain't no more manners dan 
 dat, clar out." 
 
 Silence soon ensued, and Joe went on without interruption 
 
A NEGRO WEDDING. 203 
 
 to the place where the minister asks the bridegroom : " Wilt 
 thou have this woman to thy wedded wife ? " Then Dinah, 
 unable to contain herself longer, joyfully exclaimed : 
 
 " Ob course he will ! Ony youn' feller'd be glad to hab 
 har." 
 
 [Never having gone through the ceremony herself, the 
 poor woman could not be expected to know what was appro- 
 priate to the occasion.] 
 
 No further interruption occurred, and soon the happy couple 
 were " bone of one bone, and flesh of one flesh." The assem- 
 blage still standing, Joe then turned to Ally and Rosey, and, 
 with a manner so solemn and impressive that he seemed alto- 
 gether a different person from the merry darky who had 
 entered so heartily into the " high ole heel-scrapin' " of the 
 morning, he spoke somewhat as follows : 
 
 " My chil'ren, lub one anoder ; bar wid one anoder ; be 
 faithful ter one anoder. You hab started on a long journey ; 
 many rough places am in de road ; • many trubbles will spring 
 up by de wayside ; but gwo on hand an' hand togedder ; lub 
 one anoder, an', no matter what come onter you, you will be 
 happy — fur lub will sweeten ebery sorrer, lighten ebery load, 
 make de sun shine in eben de bery cloudiest wedder. I knows 
 it will, my chil'ren, 'case I'se been ober de groun'. Ole Aggy 
 an' I hab trabbled de road. Hand in hand we hab gone ober 
 de rocks ; fru de mud ; in de hot, burnin' sand ; been out to- 
 gedder in de cole, an' de rain, an' de storm, fur nigh onter forty 
 yar, but we hab clung ter one anoder ; we hab lub'd one 
 anoder ; an' fru eberyting, in de bery darkest days, de sun ob 
 joy an' peace hab broke fru de clouds, an' sent him blessed 
 rays inter our hearts. "We started jess like two young saplin's 
 
204 MY SOUTHERN FllIENDS. 
 
 you's seed a growin' side by side in de woods. At fust we 
 seemed 'way 'part, fur de brambles, an' de tick bushes, an' de 
 uglv forns — dem war our bad ways — war atween us ; but lub, 
 like de sun, shone down on us, an' we grow'd. We grow'd till 
 our heads got above de bushes ; till dis little branch an' dat 
 little branch— dem war our holy feelin's — put out toward one 
 anoder, an' we come closer an' closer togedder. An' dough 
 we'm ole trees now, an' sometime de wind blow, an' de storm 
 rage fru de tops, an' freaten ter tear off de limbs, an ter pull 
 up de bery roots, we'm growin' closer an' closer, an' nearer an' 
 nearer togedder ebery day. An' soon de ole tops will meet ; 
 soon de ole branches, all cohered ober wid de gray moss, will 
 twine roun' one anoder ; soon de two ole trees will come 
 togedder, an' grow inter one foreber — grow inter one up dar in 
 de sky, whar de wind neber'll blow, whar de storm neber'll 
 beat ; whar we shill blossom an' bar fruit ter de glory ob de 
 Lord, an' in His heabenly kingdom foreber ! 
 
 " Yas, my chil'ren, you hab started on a long journey, an' 
 nuffin' will git you fru it but lub. Nuffin' will hole you up, 
 nuffin' will keep you faithful ter one anoder, nuffin' will make 
 you bar wid one anoder, but dat. None ob us kin lib widout 
 it ; but married folks want it most ob all. Dey need it more 
 dan de bread dey eat, de water dey drink, or de air dey breafe. 
 De worle couldn't gwo on widout it. De bery sun would gwo 
 out in de heabens, but fur dat ! An' shill I tell you why ? 
 You hab heerd massa Robert talk 'bout de great law dat make 
 de apple fall from de tree, de rock sink in de water ; dat bines 
 our feet ter de roun' 'arth, so we doan't drap off as it gwo fru 
 de air ; dat holes de sun an* de stars in dar 'pointed places, so 
 dat, day after day, an' yar after yar, dough dey'm trabblin' 
 
A NEGRO WEDDING. \i05 
 
 fasser dan de lightnin' eber went, dey'm right whar dey should 
 be. He call it 'traction, an' all de great men call it so ; but 
 dat ain't de name ! It am lub. It am God, fur God am 
 lub, an' lub am God ; an' lub bines de whole creashun toged- 
 der ! An' shill I tell you how it do it ? Does you see dis 
 hand ? how I open de fingers ; how I shet'm up ; how I rise 
 de whole arm ? Does you see dis foot, dat I does wid jess de 
 same ? Does you see dis whole body — how I make it, in a 
 twinklin', do jess what I like ? Now, what am it dat make my 
 hand move, an' my whole body turn roun' so sudden, dat I'se 
 only ter say, 'Do it,' an' it'm done? Why, it am me. It'm 
 me, dat libs up yere in de brain, an' sends my will fru ebery 
 part — fru ebery siner, an' ebery muscle, an' ebery little jint, an' 
 make'm all do jess what I like. Now, man am made in de 
 image ob God, an' dis pore, weak ole body am a small pattern 
 ob de whole creashun. Eberyting gwo on jess as it do. 
 Eberyting am held togedder, an' moved 'bout, jess as it am ; 
 but it'm God dat move it, not me ! He libs up dar in de sky 
 — which am His brain — wid de stars fur His hands, de planets 
 fur His feet, an' de whole univarse fur His body ; an' He sends 
 His will — which am lub — fru ebery part ob de whole, an' 
 moves it 'bout, an' make it do jess as He likes. So you see it 
 am my will, sent fru ebery muscle an' ebery little siner, dat 
 moves my body ; so it am His will, sent fru what de 'strono- 
 mers an' de poets call de heabenly ether, dat moves His body 
 — which am de 'arth, an' de sun, an' de stars, an' you an' me, 
 an' eb'ery libin' ting in all creashun ! His will move 'em all ; 
 an' His will am lub ! An' doan't ygu see dat you can't do 
 widout His lub ? dat it am de bery breaf ob life ? dat, ef it 
 war tooken 'way from you, fur jess one moment, you'd drap 
 
206 MY SOUTHERN FRIENDS. 
 
 down, an' die, an' neber come ter life agin — no, not in dis 
 worle, nor in any oder worle ? It am so, my chil'ren ; an' de 
 more you hab ob dat lub, de happier you'll be ; de more you'll 
 lub one anoder ; de easier you'll gwo fru you' life ; de more 
 joyfuller you'll meet you deaf h ; de happier you'll be all fru 
 de long, long ages dat'm comin' in de great Yereafter ! Den, 
 O my chil'ren I lub God — lub one anoder ! You can't be 
 happy widout you lub God ; an' you can't lub Him widout you 
 lub one anoder ! " 
 
 When Joe concluded, he saluted the bride in a manner 
 that many another sooty gentleman present would have been 
 very glad to imitate, and then took a stand at the head of 
 the supper table. An immense tureen, filled with steam- 
 ing oysters, was soon brought in and placed before him, and, 
 looking up, he said grace ; thanking Him who feedeth the 
 ravens for putting it into his master's heart to feed His other 
 black creatures, the darkies present on that occasion. He 
 asked for his master many a happy " Chrismus down yere," 
 and an eternal " Chrismus in heaben," and he added : " An', 
 knowin' dat Dou hatest long prayers, an' long faces, an' dose 
 folks dat gwo 'bout grumblin', as ef Dy happy 'arth war nuffin' 
 but a graveyard ; leff us enjoy dis feast an' dis day as Dy 
 true chil'ren — de chil'ren ob a good Fader, who am all joy an' 
 all gladness ; an', while we'm eatin' an' drinkin' an' dancin', 
 may we make merry in our hearts ter Dee. Amen." 
 
 As he concluded, Preston stepped to his side, and, taking 
 the big ladle from his hand, said : 
 
 "Stand aside, Joe ; you have done enough "work for to- 
 night ; " then, turning to " we white folks " in the family pew, 
 he added : " If any man among you would be master, let him 
 
A NEGRO WEDDING. 20*7 
 
 now be the servant of all. Let him try his hand at the 
 waiter business, and see if he can't throw these shady people 
 into the shade." 
 
 " Massa Joe " and I went forward, and,** tying the ne- 
 groes' aprons about our waists, took appropriate places beside 
 the table. 
 
 " Now all of you find seats," cried Preston ; and, amid a 
 hurricane of giggling and merry laughter, the black people 
 seated themselves on the floor, on the platform, and on the row 
 of benches ranged along the walls. Preston proceeded to fill 
 up the bowls with the savory stew, and we dispensed the eat- 
 ables among them, and for half an hour I witnessed as much 
 enjoyment as often falls to the lot of black sinners in this " vale 
 of tears." 
 
 " Now, ef dis doan't beat all ! " exclaimed old Dinah, as I 
 handed her a huge chunk of gingerbread ; u ef 'ou ain't right 
 smart at waitin', massa Kirke, I'd like ter know it." 
 
 "Keep dark, ole 'ooman," shouted Black Joe ; "doan't you 
 say nuffin' 'bout dat, or de traders'll hab a hole ob him. He'd 
 sell fur a right likely hand, shore." 
 
 " I woan't do nuffin' hut keep dark, Boss Joe," rejoined 
 Dinah, grinning till her face opened from ear to ear. " I'll hab 
 'ou know, sar, dat nary ones but white ladies paints ! " 
 
 " Good fur you, ole lady," cried the preacher. " After dat 
 you'll gib me de pleasure ob your hand in de fuss dance." 
 
 u Ob course I will, mister Joe ; an' ef 'ou'm tired ob de ole 
 'ooman, I'll gib 'ou my han' in anoder dance." 
 
 " No, you woan't ; I doan't gwo fur second marridges," 
 rejoined Joe, looking slyly at Preston ; " dey ain't made in 
 heaben." 
 
208 MY SOUTHERN FRIENDS. 
 
 "No more dey ain't," said the old woman, heaving a long 
 sigh, and also looking at Preston. 
 
 " You ain't a gwine ter leff dese folks dance in de church, 
 am you, Boss Joe ? " asked a prim, demure-looking darky, in 
 a black suit, with a white neckerchief and stiff shirt collar ; 
 probably some neighboring preacher. 
 
 " I reckon so," replied Joe, dryly. 
 
 u An' I reckons so, too, Mister I-scare-'ou-out (Iscariot)," 
 cried the old negress. " Ain't de planets de Lord's feet, an* 
 doan't dey dance ? I reckons we ain't no better dan de Lord 
 am an' ef He mobes him feet r 'ou'd better mobe 'our'n. We 
 b'lieve in sarvin' Him wid our han's, an' our feet, too ; we 
 does, Mister I-scare-'ou-out." 
 
 She did scare him out, for the "pious gemman" left sud- 
 denly. 
 
 When about all of the eatables had found their way down 
 the cavernous — and ravenous — throats of the darkies, Boss 
 Joe rose, and called out : 
 
 " Yere, you massa Joe, you pull off you' apern, an' take de 
 big fiddle. I'm 'gaged fur de fuss dance." 
 
 Young Preston seated himself on the platform, and several 
 sable gentlemen, with banjoes and fiddles, took places beside 
 him. 
 
 " Now all you men folks s'lect you' pardners," cried the 
 preacher, taking Dinah by the hand, and leading her out to the 
 middle of the floor. 
 
 They all paired off, the fiddles broke into a merry tune, and 
 soon the little church, which had so often echoed with the 
 groans of the saints, shook with the heels of the sinners. 
 "When the first dance was over, Boss Joe again called out : 
 
A NEGRO WEDDING. 209 
 
 " Now, massa Joe, strike up de wal'z ; Dinah an' I am 
 gwine ter show dese folks some highfalutin dancin'." 
 
 The waltz struck up, and off they whirled. Dinah went 
 into it as if she were working for pay ; and as Joe held her 
 closely in his arms, her wide hoops expanded till she looked 
 like a topsail schooner scudding under bare poles. 
 
 While Joe was wiping the perspiration from his face, at the 
 end of the waltz, an old negro entered, and whispered some- 
 thing in his ear. Joe's countenance fell, and, without saying 
 a word, he left the room. 
 
 " Massa Joe," relinquishing the big fiddle, then took the 
 floor with Rosey, and gave the audience a genuine breakdown. 
 His heels bobbed about like balls at a cricket match, and 
 Rosey's petticoats fluttered like the contents of a clothes line 
 caught out in a hurricane. A better-looking couple were 
 never seen in a ball room. 
 
 "He's a natural born darky," said his father, laughing; 
 " he takes to dancing as a duck takes to water." 
 
 A general dance followed. In the midst of it the old 
 negro who had called Joe out, again came in, and, making his 
 way to where Preston and I were standing, he said, in a low 
 tone : 
 
 " Massa Robert, ole Jack am dyin' ; will 'ou come ? " 
 
 " Dying ! " exclaimed Preston. " Yes, I'll be there at 
 once. Kirke, you remember the old man ; come with me." 
 
CHAPTER XX 
 
 A DEATHBED 
 
 The moon and the stars were out, and the tall, dark pines 
 cast long, gloomy shadows over the little rows of negro houses 
 which formed the rearguard to Preston's mansion. They were 
 nearly deserted. Not a solitary fire slumbered on the bare 
 clay hearths, and not a single darky stood sentry over the 
 loose pork and neglected hoecakes, or kept at bay the army of 
 huge rats and prowling opossums which beleaguered the quar- 
 ters. Silence — death's music — was over and around them. 
 The noisy revelry of the dancers had died away in the dis- 
 tance, and even the hoarse song of the great trees had sunk to 
 a low moan, as they stood, motionless and abashed, in the pres- 
 ence of the grim giant who knocks alike at the palace and the 
 cottage gate. 
 
 A stray light glimmered through the logs of a low hut, far 
 off in the woods, and, making our way to it, we entered. A 
 bright fire lit up the interior, and on a rude cot, in one corner, 
 lay the old preacher. His eyes were closed ; a cold, clammy 
 sweat was on his forehead — he was dying. One of his skele- 
 ton hands rested on the tattered coverlet, and his weazened 
 face was half buried in a dilapidated pillow, whose ragged 
 
 4 
 
 casing and protruding plumage bespoke it a relic of some 
 departed white sleeper. 
 
A DEATIIBED. 211 
 
 An old negress, with gray hair and haggard visage, sat at 
 the foot of the bed, wailing piteously ; and Joe and half a 
 dozen aged saints stood around, singing a hymn, doleful enough 
 to have made even a sinner weep. 
 
 Not heeding our entrance, Joe took the dying man by the 
 hand, and, in a slow, solemn voice, said : 
 
 " Brudder Jack, you'm dyin' ; you'm gwine ter dat Ian' 
 whence no trabeller returns ; you'm settin' out fur dat coun- 
 try which'm lit by de smile ob de Lord ; whar dar ain't no 
 sickness, no pain, no sorrer, no dyin' ; fur dat kingdom whar 
 de Lord reigns ; whar trufh flows on like a riber ; whar 
 righteousness springs up like de grass, an' lub draps down like 
 de dew, an' cobers de face ob de groun' ; whar you woan't 
 gwo 'bout wid no crutch ; whar you woan't lib in no ole cabin 
 like dis, an' eat hoecake an' salt pork in sorrer an' heabiness ob 
 soul ; but whar you'll run an' not be weary, an' walk an' not 
 be faint ; whar you'll hab a hous'n builded ob de Lord, an' sit 
 at His table — you' meat an' drink de bread an' de water ob 
 life! 
 
 " I knows you's a sinner, Jack ; I knows you's lub'd de 
 hot water too much, an' dat it make you forgit you' duty 
 sometime, an' set a bad 'zample ter dem as looked up ter you 
 fur better tings ; but dar am mercy wid de Lord, Jack ; dar 
 am forgibness wid Him ; an' I hopes you'm ready an' willin' 
 ter gwo." 
 
 Old Jack opened his eyes, and, in a low, peevish tone, 
 said : 
 
 " Joe, none ob you' nonsense ter me ! I'se hard you talk 
 dis way afore. You can't preach — you neber could. You jess 
 knows I ain't fit ter trabble, an' I ain't willin' ter gwo, nowhar." 
 
212 MY SOUTHERN FEIENDS. 
 
 Joe mildly rebuked him, and again commenced expatiating 
 on the " upper kingdom," and on the glories of " the house not 
 made with hands, eternal in the heavens ; " but the old darky- 
 cut him short, with — 
 
 u Shet up, Joe ! no more ob dat. I doan't want no oder 
 hous'n but dis — dis ole cabin am good 'nuff fur me." 
 
 Joe was about to reply, when Preston stepped to the 
 bedside, and, taking the aged preacher's hand, said : 
 
 " My good Jack, master Robert has come to see you." 
 
 The dying man turned his eyes toward his master, and, in 
 a weak, tremulous voice, exclaimed : 
 
 " Oh ! massa Robert, has you come ? has you come ter see 
 ole Jack ? Bress you, massa Robert, bress you ! Jack 
 know'd you'd neber leab him yere ter die alone." 
 
 " No, my good Jack ; I would save you, if I could." 
 
 " But you can't sabe me, massa Robert ; I'se b'yond dat. 
 I'se dyin', massa Robert. I'se gwine ter de good missus. She 
 tell'd me ter git ready ter foller har, an' I is. I'se gwine ter 
 har now, massa Robert ! " 
 
 " I know you are, Jack. I feel sure you are." 
 
 u Tank you, massa Robert — tank you fur sayin' dat. 
 An' woan't you pray fur me, massa Robert — jess a little 
 pray ? De good man's prayer am h'ard, you knows, massa 
 Robert ! " 
 
 All kneeling down on the rough floor, Preston prayed — a 
 short, simple, fervent prayer. At its close, he rose, and, bend- 
 ing over the old negro, said : 
 
 " The Lord is good, Jack ; His mercy is everlasting." 
 
 " I knows dat ; I feels dat," gasped the dying man. " I 
 lubs you, massa Robert ; I allers lub'd you ; but I'se gwine ter 
 
A DEATHBED. 213 
 
 leab you now. Bress you ! de Lord bress you, raassa Robert ! 
 I'll tell de good missus " 
 
 He clutched convulsively at his master's hand ; a wild light 
 came out of his eyes ; a sudden spasm passed over his face, 
 and — he was " gone whar de good darkies go." 
 
CHAPTEK XXI. 
 
 SOUTHERN CHIVALRY. 
 
 On the following day, Frank and I were to resume our 
 journey ; and, in the morning, I suggested that we should visit 
 Colonel Dawsey, with whom, though he had for many years 
 been a correspondent of the house in which I was a partner, I 
 had no personal acquaintance. 
 
 His plantation adjoined Preston's, and his house was only 
 a short half mile from my friend's. After breakfast, we set 
 out for it through the woods. The day was cold for the sea- 
 son, with a sharp, nipping air, and our overcoats were not at 
 all uncomfortable. 
 
 As we walked along, I said to Preston : 
 
 u Dawsey's ' account ' is a good one. He never draws 
 against shipments, but holds on, and sells sight drafts, thus 
 making the exchange." 
 
 " Yes, I know ; he's a close calculator." 
 
 u Does he continue to manage his negroes as formerly ? " 
 
 11 In much the same way, I reckon." 
 
 " Then he can't stand remarkably well with his neighbors." 
 
 " Oh ! people round here don't mind such things. Many 
 of them do as badly as he. Besides, Dawsey is a gentleman 
 of good family. He inherited his plantation and two hundred 
 hands." 
 
SOUTHERN CHIVALRY. 215 
 
 u Indeed I How, then, did he become reduced to his pres- 
 ent number ? " 
 
 " He was a wild young fellow, and, before he was twenty- 
 five, had squandered and gambled away everything but his 
 land and some thirty negroes. Then he turned square round, 
 and, from being prodigal and careless, became mean and cruel. 
 He has a hundred now, and more ready money than any 
 planter in the district." 
 
 A half hour's walk took us to Dawsey's negro quarters — a 
 collection of about thirty low huts in the rear of his house. 
 They were not so poor as some I had seen on cotton and rice 
 plantations, but they seemed unfit for the habitation of any 
 animal but the hog. Their floors were the bare ground, hard- 
 ened by being moistened with water and pounded with mauls ; 
 and worn, as they were, several inches lower in the centre than 
 at the sides, they must have formed, in rainy weather, the beds 
 of small lakes. So much water w T ould have been objectionable 
 to white tenants ; but negroes, like their friends the alligators, 
 are amphibious animals ; and Dawsey's were never known to 
 make complaint. The chimneys were often merely vent-holes 
 in the roof, though a few were tumbledown structures of sticks 
 and clay ; and not a window, nor an opening which courtesy 
 could have christened a window, w r as to be seen in the entire 
 collection. And, for that matter, windows were useless, for 
 the wide crevices in the logs, w r hich let in the air and rain, at 
 the same time might admit the light. Two or three low beds 
 at one end, a small pine bench, which held half a dozen wooden 
 plates and spoons, and a large iron pot, resting on four stones 
 over a low fire, and serving for both washtub and cook-kettle, 
 composed the furniture of each interior. 
 
216 MY SOUTHERN FRIENDS. 
 
 No one of the cabins was over sixteen feet square, but 
 each was "home" and M shelter" for three or four human 
 beings. Walking on a short distance, we came to a larger hovel, 
 in front of which about a dozen young chattels were playing. 
 Seven or eight more, too young to walk, were crawling about 
 on the ground inside. They had only one garment apiece — a 
 long shirt of coarse linsey — and their heads and feet were bare. 
 An old negress was seated in the doorway, knitting. Ap- 
 proaching her, I said : 
 
 " Aunty, are not these children cold ? " 
 
 " Oh ! no, massa ; dey'm use' ter de wedder." 
 
 " Do you take care of all of them ? " 
 
 " In de daytime I does, massa. In de night dar mudders 
 takes de small 'uns." 
 
 " But some of them are white. Those two are as white as 
 lam!" 
 
 » " No, massa ; dey'm brack. Ef you looks at dar eyes an' 
 dar finger nails, you'll see dat." 
 
 " They're black, to be sure they are," said young Preston, 
 laughing; "but they're about as white as Dawsey, and look 
 wonderfully like him — eh, Aunty Sue ? " 
 
 " I reckons, massa Joe ! " replied the woman, running her 
 hand through her wool, and grinning widely. 
 
 " "What does he ask for them, aunty ? " 
 
 " Doan't know, massa, but 'spect dey'm pooty high. Dem 
 kine am hard ter raise." 
 
 " Yes," said Joe ; " white blood — even Dawsey's— don't 
 take naturally to mud." 
 
 " I reckons not, massa Joe ! " said the old negress, with 
 another grin. 
 
SOUTHEEN CHIVALET. 217 
 
 Joe gave her a half-dollar piece, and, amid an avalanche of 
 blessings, we passed on to Dawsey's " mansion " — if mansion 
 it could be called — a story-and-a-half shanty, about thirty feet 
 square, covered with rough, unpainted boards, and lit by two 
 small, dingy windows. It was approached by a sandy walk, 
 and the ground around its front entrance was littered with 
 apple peelings, potato parings, and the refuse of the culinary 
 department. 
 
 Joe rapped at the door, and, in a momenf, it opened, and a 
 middle-aged mulatto woman appeared. As soon as she per- 
 ceived Preston, she grasped his two hands, and exclaimed : 
 
 " Oh ! massa Robert, do buy har ! Massa'll kill har, ef 
 you doan't" 
 
 " But I can't, Dinah. Your master refuses my note, and I 
 haven't the money now." 
 
 " Oh ! oh ! He'll kill har ; he say he will. She woan't 
 gib in ter him, an' he'll kill har, shore. Oh ! oh ! " cried the 
 woman, wringing her hands, and bursting into tears. 
 
 " Is it 'Spasia ? " asked Joe. 
 
 " Yas, massa Joe ; " it'm 'Spasia. Massa hab sole yaller 
 Tom 'way from har, an' he swar he'll kill har 'case she woan't 
 gib in ter him . Oh ! oh ! " 
 
 " Where is your master ? " 
 
 " He'm 'way wid har an' Black Cale. I reckon dey'm 
 down ter de branch. I reckon dey'm whippin' on har now I " 
 
 " Come, Frank," cried Joe, starting off at a rapid pace ; 
 " let's see that performance." 
 
 " Hold on, Joe ; wait for us. You'll get into trouble 1 " 
 
 shouted his father, hurrying after him. The rest of us caught 
 
 up with them in a few moments, and then all walked rapidly 
 10 
 
218 MY SOUTHERN FRIENDS. 
 
 on in the direction of the small run which borders the two 
 plantations. 
 
 Before we had gone far, we heard loud screams, mingled 
 with oaths and the heavy blows of a whip. Quickening our 
 pace, we soon reached the bank of the little stream, which 
 there was lined with thick underbrush. "We could see no one, 
 and the sounds had subsided. In a moment, however, a rough 
 voice called out from behind the bushes : 
 
 M Have you had enough ? Will you give up ? n 
 
 " Oh ! no, good massa ; I can't do dat ! " was the half- 
 sobbing, half-moaning reply. 
 
 " Give it to her again, Cale ! " cried the first voice ; and 
 again the whip descended, and again the piercing cries : " 
 Lord ! " " Oh, pray doan't ! " "0 Lord, hab mercy ! " " Oh ! 
 good massa, hab mercy ! " mingled with the falling blows. 
 
 " This way ! " shouted Joe, pressing through the bushes, 
 and bounding down the bank toward the actors in this nine- 
 teenth-century tournament, wherein an armed knight and a 
 doughty squire were set against a weak, defenceless woman. 
 
 Leaning against a pine at a few feet from the edge of the 
 run, was a tall, bony man of about fifty. His hair was coarse 
 and black, and his skin the color of tobacco juice. He wore 
 the ordinary homespun of the district ; and long, deep lines 
 about his mouth and under his eyes told the story of a dissi- 
 pated life. His entire appearance was anything but prepos- 
 sessing. 
 
 At the distance of three or four rods, and bound to the 
 charred trunk of an old tree, was a woman, several shades 
 lighter than the man. Her feet were secured by stout cords, 
 and her arms were clasped around the blackened stump, and 
 
SOUTHERN CHIVALRY. 219 
 
 tied in that position. Her back was bare to the loins, and, as 
 she hung there, moaning with agony, and shivering with cold, 
 it seemed one mass of streaming gore. 
 
 The brawny black, whom Boss Joe had so eccentrically 
 addressed at the negro meeting, years before, was in the act of 
 whipping the woman ; but, with one bound, young Preston 
 was on him. Wrenching the whip from his hand, he turned 
 on his master, crying out : 
 
 " Untie her, you white-livered devil, or I'll plough your 
 back as you've ploughed hers ! " 
 
 " Don't interfere here, you d — d whelp ! " shouted Dawsey, 
 livid with rage, and drawing his revolver. 
 
 " I'll give you enough of that, you cowardly hound ! " 
 cried Joe, taking a small Derringer from his pocket, and coolly 
 advancing upon Dawsey. 
 
 The latter levelled his pistol, but, before he could fire, by a 
 dexterous movement of my cane, I struck it from his hand. 
 Drawing instantly a large knife, he rushed upon me. The 
 knife was descending — in another instant I should have " tasted 
 Southern steel," had not Frank caught his arm, wrenched the 
 weapon from his grasp, and, with the fury of an aroused tiger, 
 sprung on him and borne him to the ground. Planting his 
 knee firmly on Dawsey's breast, and twisting his neckcloth 
 tightly about his throat, Frank yelled out : 
 
 " Stand back. Let me deal with him ! " 
 
 « But you will kill him." 
 
 u "Well, he would have killed you I " he cried, tightening 
 his hold on Dawsey's throat. 
 
 M Let him up, Frank. Let the devil have fair play," said 
 Joe ; u I'll give him a chance at ten paces." 
 
220 MY SOUTHERN FRIENDS. 
 
 11 Yes, let him up, my son ; he is unarmed." 
 
 Frank slowly and reluctantly released his hold, and the 
 woman-whipper rose. Looking at us for a moment — a min- 
 gled look of rage and defiance — he turned, without speaking, 
 and took some rapid strides up the bank. 
 
 " Hold on, Colonel Dawsey ! " cried Joe, elevating his Der* 
 ringer ; " take another step, and I'll let daylight through you. 
 You've just got to promise you won't whip this woman, or 
 take your chance at ten paces." 
 
 [I afterward learned that Joe was deadly sure with the 
 pistol.] 
 
 Dawsey turned slowly round, and, in a sullen tone, asked : 
 
 11 Who are you, gentlemen, that interfere with my private 
 affairs ? " 
 
 " My name, sir, is Kirke, of New York ; and this young 
 man is my son." 
 
 11 Not Mr. Kirke, my factor ? " j 
 
 " The same, sir." 
 
 " Well, Mr. Kirke, I'm sorry to say you're just now in 
 d — d pore business." 
 
 " I have been, sir. I've done yours for some years, and 
 I'm heartily ashamed of it. I'll try to mend in that particular, 
 however." 
 
 u Well, no more words, Colonel Dawsey," said Joe. 
 " Here's a Derringer, if you'd like a pop at me." 
 
 " 'Tain't an even chance," replied Dawsey ; u you know it." 
 
 11 Take it, or promise not to whip the woman. I won't 
 waste more time on such a sneaking coward as you are." 
 
 Dawsey hesitated, but finally, in a dogged way, made the 
 required promise, and took himself off. 
 
SOUTHERN CHIVALRY. 221 
 
 "While this conversation was going on, Preston and the 
 negro man had untied the woman. Her back was bleeding 
 profusely, and she was unable to stand. Lifting her in their 
 arms, the two conveyed her to the top of the bank, and then, 
 making a bed of their coats, laid her on the ground. "We 
 remained there until the negro returned from the house with 
 a turpentine wagon, and conveyed the woman u home." "We 
 then returned to the plantation, and that afternoon, accom- 
 panied by Frank and Joe, I resumed my journey. 
 
 By way of episode, I will mention that the slave woman, 
 after being confined to her bed several weeks, recovered. 
 Then Dawsey renewed his attack upon her, and, from the 
 effects of a second whipping, she died. 
 
CHAPTEE XXII. 
 
 DIFFICULTIES. 
 
 Returning from the South a few weeks after the events 
 narrated in the previous chapter, Frank and I were met at 
 Goldsboro by Preston and Selma, when the latter accompanied 
 us to the North, and once more resumed her place in David's 
 family. 
 
 On the first of February following, Frank, then not quite 
 twenty-one, was admitted a partner in the house of Russell, 
 Rollins & Co., and, in the succeeding summer, was sent to 
 Europe on business of the firm. Shortly after his return, in 
 the following spring, he came on from Boston with a proposal 
 from Cragin that I should embark with them and young Pres- 
 ton in an extensive speculation. Deeming any business in 
 which Cragin was willing to engage worthy of careful consid- 
 eration, I listened to Frank's exposition of the plan of opera- 
 tions. He had originated the project, and in it he displayed 
 the comprehensive business mind and rare blending of caution 
 and boldness which characterized his father. As the result of 
 this transaction had an important influence on the future of 
 some of the actors in my story, I will detail its programme. 
 
 It was during the Crimean war. The Russian ports were 
 closed, and Great Britain and the Continent of Europe were 
 
DIFFICULTIES. 223 
 
 dependent entirely on the Southern States for their supply of 
 resinous articles. The rivers at the South were low, and it 
 was not supposed they would rise sufficiently to float produce 
 to market before the occurrence of the spring freshets, in the 
 following April or May. Only forty thousand barrels of com- 
 mon rosin were held in Wilmington — the largest naval store 
 port in the world ; and it was estimated that not more than 
 two hundred thousand were on hand in the other ports of Sa- 
 vannah, Ga., Georgetown, S. C, Newbern and "Washington, 
 N. C, and in New York, Boston, and Philadelphia. Very 
 little was for sale in London, Liverpool, or Glasgow, the 
 largest foreign markets for the article ; and Frank thought 
 that a hundred and fifty thousand barrels could be purchased. 
 That quantity, taken at' once out of market, would probably so 
 much enhance the value of the article, that the operation 
 would realize a large profit before the new crop came forward. 
 The purchases were to be made simultaneously in the various 
 markets, and about two hundred thousand dollars were re- 
 quired to carry through the transaction. One hundred thou- 
 sand of this was to be furnished in equal proportions by the 
 parties interested ; the other hundred thousand would be real- 
 ized by Joseph Preston's negotiating "long exchange" on 
 Russell, Rollins & Co. 
 
 I declined to embark in the speculation, but the others car- 
 ried it out as laid down in the programme ; the only deviation 
 being that, at Frank's suggestion, Mr. Robert Preston was 
 apprised of the intended movement, and allowed to purchase, 
 on his own account, as much produce as could be secured in 
 Newbern. He bought about seven thousand barrels, paid for 
 them by drawing at ninety days on Russell, Rollins & Co., and 
 
224 MY SOUTHERN FRIENDS. 
 
 held them for sale at Newborn, agreeing to satisfy his drafts 
 with the proceeds. These drafts amounted to a trifle over 
 eighty-two hundred dollars. 
 
 About a month after this transaction was entered into, our 
 firm received the following letter from Preston : 
 
 u Gentlemen : An unfortunate difference with my son 
 prevents my longer using him as my indorser. I have not, as 
 yet, been able to secure another ; and, our banks requiring 
 two home names on time drafts, I have to beg you to honor a 
 small bill at one day's sight. I have drawn for one thousand 
 dollars. Please honor." 
 
 To this I at once replied : 
 
 11 Dear Sir : "We have advice of your draft for one thou- 
 sand dollars. To protect your credit, we shall pay it ; but we 
 beg you will draw no more, till you forward bills of lading. 
 
 u You are now overdrawn some five thousand dollars, 
 which, by the maturing of your drafts, has become a cash ad- 
 vance. The death of our senior, Mr. Randall, and the conse- 
 quent withdrawal of his capital, has left us with an extended 
 business and limited means. Money, also, is very tight, and 
 we therefore earnestly beg you to put us in funds at the earli- 
 est possible moment." 
 
 No reply was received to this letter ; but, about ten days 
 after its transmission, Preston himself walked into my private 
 office. His clothes were travel stained, and he appeared hag- 
 gard and careworn. I had never seen him look so miser- 
 ably. 
 
DIFFICULTIES. 225 
 
 He met me cordially, and soon referred to the state of his 
 affairs. His wife, the winter before, had agreed to reside per- 
 manently at Newbern, and content herself with an allowance 
 of three thousand dollars annually; but at the' close of the 
 year he found that she had contracted debts to the extent of 
 several thousand more. He was pressed for these debts ; his 
 interest was in arrears, and he could raise no money for lack 
 of another indorser. Ruin stared him in the face, unless I 
 again put my shoulder to the wheel, and pried him out of 
 the mire. The turpentine business was not paying as well 
 as formerly, but the new plantation was encumbered with only 
 the original mortgage — less than six thousand dollars — and 
 was then worth, owing to an advance in the value of land, 
 fully twenty thousand. He would secure me by a mortgage 
 on that property, but I must allow the present indebtedness to 
 stand, and let him increase it four or live thousand dollars. 
 That amount would extricate him from present difficulties ; 
 and, to avoid future embarrassments, he would take measures 
 for a legal separation from his wife. 
 
 I heard him through, and then said : 
 
 M I cannot help you, my friend. I am very sorry ; but my 
 own affairs are in a most critical state. I owe over a hundred 
 thousand dollars, maturing within twenty days, and my pres- 
 ent available resources are not more than fifty thousand. I 
 have three hundred thousand worth of produce on hand, but 
 the market is so depressed that I cannot realize a dollar 
 upon it. The banks have shut down, and money is two per 
 cent, a month in the street. What you owe us would aid me 
 wonderfully ; but I can rub through without it. That much I 
 can bear, but not a dollar more." 
 10* 
 
226 MY SOUTHERN FRIENDS. 
 
 He walked the room for a time, and was silent ; then, 
 turning to me, he said — each separate word seeming a groan : 
 
 " I have cursed every one I ever loved, and now I am 
 bringing trouble — perhaps disaster — upon you, the only real 
 friend I have left." 
 
 " Pshaw ! my good fellow, don't talk in that way. "What 
 you owe us is only a drop in the bucket. We have made 
 twice that amount out of you ; so give yourself no uneasiness, 
 if you never pay it." 
 
 " But I must pay it — I shall pay it ; " and, continuing to 
 pace the room silently for a few moments, he added, giving me 
 his hand : u Good-by ; I'm going back to-night." 
 
 "Back to-night ! — without seeing Selly, or my wife? 
 You are mad ! " 
 
 u I must go." 
 
 " You must not go. You are letting affairs trouble you 
 too much. Come, go home with me, and see Kate. A few 
 words from her will make a new man of you." 
 
 " No, no ; I must go back at once. I must raise this 
 money somehow." 
 
 " Send money to the dogs ! Come with me, and have a 
 good night's rest. You'll think better of this in the morning. 
 And now it occurs to me that Kate has about seven thousand 
 belonging to Frank. He means to settle it on Selly when 
 they are married, and she might as well have it first as last. 
 Perhaps you can get it now." 
 
 11 But I might be robbing my own child." 
 
 " You can give the farm as security ; it's worth twice the 
 amount." 
 
 11 Well, I'll stay. Let us see your wife at once." 
 
DIFFICULTIES. 227 
 
 While we were seated in the parlor, after supper, I 
 broached the subject of Preston's wants to Kate. She heard 
 me through attentively, and then quietly said : 
 
 " Frank is of age — he can do as he pleases ; but / would 
 not advise him to make the loan. I once heard mv father 
 scout at the idea of taking security on property a thousand 
 miles away. I would not wound Mr. Preston's feelings, but — 
 his wife's extravagance has led him into this difficulty, and her 
 property should extricate him from it. Her town house, 
 horses, and carriages should be sold. She ought to be made 
 to feel some of the mortification she has brought upon him." 
 
 Preston's face brightened ; a new idea seemod to strike 
 him. " You are right. I will sell everything." His face 
 clouded again, as he continued : " But I cannot realize soon 
 enough. Your husband needs money at once." 
 
 11 Never mind me ; I can take care of myself. But what 
 is this trouble with Joe ? Tell me , I will arrange it. Every- 
 thing can go on smoothly again." 
 
 " It cannot be arranged. There can be no reconciliation 
 between us." 
 
 " What prevents ? Who is at fault — you, or he ? " 
 
 " I am. He will never forgive me ! " 
 
 " Forgive you ! I can't imagine what you have done, that 
 admits of no forgiveness." 
 
 He rose, and walked the room for a while in gloomy 
 silence, then said : 
 
 " I will tell you. It is right you should know. You both 
 should know the sort of man you have esteemed and be- 
 friended for so many years ; " and, resuming his seat, he 
 related the following occurrences : 
 
228 MY SOUTHERN FRIENDS. 
 
 " Everything went on as usual at the plantation, till some 
 months after Rosey's marriage to Ally. Then a child was 
 born to them. It was white. Rosey refused to reveal its 
 father, but it was evidently not her husband. Ally, being a 
 proud, high-spirited fellow, took the thing terribly to heart. 
 He refused to live with his wife, or even to see her. I tried 
 to reconcile them, but without success. Old Dinah, who had 
 previously doted on Rosey, turned about, and began to beat 
 and abuse her cruelly. To keep the child out of the old 
 woman's way, I took her into the house, and she remained 
 there till about two months ago. Then, one day, Larkin, the 
 trader, of whom you bought Phylly and the children, came 
 to me, wanting a woman house-servant. I was pressed for 
 money, and I offered him — a thing I never did before — two or 
 three of my family slaves. They did not suit, but he said 
 Rosey would, and proposed to buy her and the child. I re- 
 fused. He offered me .fifteen hundred dollars for them, but I 
 still refused. Then he told me that he had spoken to the girl, 
 and she wished him to buy her. I doubted it, and said so ; 
 but he called Rosey to us, and she confirmed it, and, in an 
 excited way, told me she would run away, or drown herself, 
 if I did not sell her. She said she could live no longer on the 
 same plantation with Ally. I told her I would send Ally 
 away ; but she replied : ' No ; I am tired of this place. I 
 have suffered so much here, I want to get away. I shall go ; 
 whether alive or dead, is for you to say.' I saw she was in 
 earnest ; I was hard pressed for money ; Larkin promised to 
 get her a kind master, and — I sold her." 
 
 "Sold her! My God J Preston, she was your own 
 child ! " 
 
DIFFICULTIES. 229 
 
 " I know it," he replied, burying his face in his hands. 
 11 The curse of God was on it ; it has been on me for years." 
 After a few moments, he added : "But hear the rest, and you 
 will curse me too." 
 
 Overcome with emotion, he groaned audibly. I said noth- 
 ing, and a pause of some minutes ensued. Then, in a choked, 
 broken voice, he continued : 
 
 M The rosin transaction had been gone into. I had used up 
 what blank indorsements I had. Needing more, and wanting 
 to consult with Joe about selling the rosin, I went to Mobile. 
 It was five weeks ago. I arrived there about dark, and put up 
 at the Battle House. Joe had boarded there. I was told he 
 had left, and gone to housekeeping. A negro conducted me to 
 a small house in the outskirts of the town. He said Joe lived 
 there. Wishing to surprise him, I went in without knocking. 
 The house had two parlors, separated by folding doors. In the 
 back one a young woman was clearing away the tea things ; 
 in the front one, Joe was seated by the fire, with a young child 
 on his knee. I put my hand on his shoulder, and said : ' Joe, 
 whose child have you here ? ' He looked up, and laughingly 
 said : ' Why, father, you ought to know ; you've seen it be- 
 fore ! ' I looked closely at it — it was Rosey's ! I said so. 
 4 Yes, father,' he replied ; ' and there's Rosey herself. Larkin 
 promised she should have a kind master, and — he kept his 
 word.' The truth flashed upon me — the child was his ! My 
 only son had seduced his own sister I I staggered back in 
 horror. I told him who Rosey was, and then " — no words 
 can express the intense agony depicted on his face as he said 
 this — " then he cursed me ! my God ! he cursed me ! " 
 
 I pitied him. I could but pity him ; and I said : 
 
230 MY SOUTHERN FRIENDS. 
 
 " Do not be so cast down, my friend. I once heard you 
 say : ' The Lord is good. His mercy is everlasting ! ' " 
 
 " But He cannot have mercy on some ! " lie cried. " My 
 sins have been too great ; they cannot be blotted out. I 
 embittered the life of my wife ; I have driven my daughter 
 from her home ; sold my own child ; made my generous, 
 noble-hearted boy do a horrible crime — a crime that will haunt 
 him forever. Oh i the curse of God is on me. My misery is 
 greater than I can bear." 
 
 " No, my friend ; God curses none of his creatures. You 
 have reaped what you have sown, that is all ; but you have 
 suffered enough. Better things, believe me, are in store for 
 you." 
 
 " No, no ; everything is gone — wife, children, all ! I am 
 alone — the past, nothing but remorse ; the future, ruin and dis- 
 honor 1 " 
 
 " But Selly is left you. She will always love you." 
 
 11 No, no 1 Even Selly would curse me, if she knew all ! " 
 
 No one spoke for a full half hour, and he continued pacing 
 up and down the room. When, at last, he seated himself, 
 mpre composed, I asked : 
 
 " What became of Rosey and the child ? " 
 
 "I do not know. I was shut in my room for several 
 days. When I got out, I was told Joe had freed her, and she 
 had disappeared, no one knew whither. I tried every means 
 to trace her, but could not. At the end of a week, I went 
 home, what you see me — a broken-hearted man." 
 
 The next morning, despite our urgent entreaties, he re- 
 turned to the South. 
 
 ****** 
 
DIFFICULTIES. 231 
 
 The twenty days were expiring. By hard struggling I 
 had met my liabilities, but the last day — the crisis — was ap- 
 proaching. Thirty thousand dollars of our acceptances had 
 accumulated together, and were maturing on that day. "When 
 I went home, on the preceding night, we had only nineteen 
 thousand in bank. I had exhausted all our receivables. 
 "Where the eleven thousand was to come from, I did not know. 
 Only one resource seemed left me — the hypothecation of prod- 
 uce ; and a resort to that, at that time, before warehouse 
 receipts became legitimate securities, would be ruinous to our 
 credit. My position was a terrible one. No one not a mer- 
 chant can appreciate or realize it. "With thousands upon thou- 
 sands of assets, the accumulations of years, my standing 
 among merchants, and, what I valued more than all, my un- 
 tarnished credit, were in jeopardy for the^want of a paltry 
 sum. 
 
 I went home that night with a heavy heart ; but Kate's 
 hopeful words encouraged me. "With her and the children left 
 to me, I need not care for the rest ; all might go, and I could 
 commence again at the bottom of the hill. The next morn- 
 ing I walked down town with a firm spirit, ready to meet dis- 
 aster like a man. The letters by the early mail were on my 
 desk. I opened them one after another, hurriedly, eagerly. 
 There were no remittances ! I had expected at least five thou- 
 sand dollars. For a moment my courage failed me. I rose, 
 and paced the room, and thoughts like these passed through 
 my mind : M The last alternative has come. Pride must give 
 way to duty. I must hypothecate produce, and protect my 
 correspondents. I must sacrifice myself, to save my friends ! 
 
 u But here are two letters I have thrown aside. They 
 
232 MY SOUTHERN FRIENDS. 
 
 are addressed to me personally. Mere letters of friendship ! 
 What is friendship, at a time like this ? — friendship without 
 money ! Pshaw ! I wouldn't give a fig for all the friends in 
 the world ! " 
 
 Mechanically I opened one of them. An enclosure 
 dropped from it to the floor. "Without pausing to pick it up, 
 I read : 
 
 l< Dear Father : Mother writes me you are hard pressed. 
 Sell my U. S. stock — it will realize over seven thousand. It 
 is yours. Enclosed is Cragin's certified check for ten thou- 
 sand. If you need more, draw on him, at sight, for any 
 amount. He says he will stand by you to the death. 
 
 " Love to mother. Frank." 
 
 "P. S.— Fire away, old fellow! Hallet is ugly, but I'll 
 go my pile on you, spite of the devil. Cuagin." 
 
 " Saved ! saved by my wife and child ! " I leaned my 
 head on my desk. When I rose, there were tears upon it. 
 
 It wanted some minutes of ten, but I was nervously im- 
 patient to blot out those terrible acceptances. I should then 
 be safe ; I should then breathe freely. As I passed out of my 
 private office, I opened the other letter. It was from Preston. 
 Pausing a moment, I read it : 
 
 " My very dear Friend : I enclose you sight check of 
 Branch Bank of Cape Fear on Bank of Republic, for $10,820. 
 Apply what is needed to pay my account ; the rest hold sub- 
 ject to my drafts. 
 
 " I have sold my town house, furniture, horses, &c, and 
 
DIFFICULTIES. 233 
 
 the proceeds will pay my home debts. I shall therefore not 
 need to draw the balance for, say, sixty days. God bless 
 you ! " 
 
 " Well, the age of miracles is not passed ! How did he 
 raise the money ? " 
 
 Stepping back into the private office, I called my partner : 
 
 " Draw checks for all the acceptances due to-day ; get them 
 
 certified, and take up the bills at once. Don't let the grass 
 
 grow under your feet. I shall be away the rest of the day, 
 
 and I want to see them before I go. Here is a draft from 
 
 Preston ; it will make our account good." 
 
 » 
 
 He looked at it, and, laughing, said : 
 " Yes, and leave about fifty dollars in bank." 
 ■ "Well, never mind ; we are out of the woods." 
 When he had gone, I sat down, and wrote the following 
 letter : 
 
 " My dear Frank : I return Cragin's check, with many 
 thanks. I have not sold your stock. My legitimate resources 
 have carried me through. 
 
 " I need not say, my boy, that I feel what you would have 
 done for me. Words are not needed between us. 
 
 " Tell Cragin that I consider him a trump — the very ace 
 of hearts. 
 
 " Your mother and I will see you in a few days." , 
 
 In half an hour, with the two letters in my pocket, I was 
 on my way home. Handing them to Kate, I took her in my 
 arms ; and, as I brushed the still bright, golden hair from her 
 broad forehead, I felt I was the richest man living. 
 
CHAPTEE XXIII. 
 
 A SUDDEN DISSOLUTION. 
 
 "Within the same week I went to Boston. I arrived just 
 after dark ; but, as it was again " steamer night," I drove 
 directly to the office of Russell, Rollins & Co. 
 
 David occupied his accustomed stand at the old desk, and 
 Frank was seated near him. After the usual greetings were 
 over, I said to Frank : 
 
 " Come ! your mother is in the carriage at the door, and 
 
 ■ 
 
 wants you to spend the evening with her." 
 
 " I can't. I'm very sorry ; " and he added, in a lower 
 tone : " Selly has just heard of her father's death, and goes 
 home to-morrow. I must spend the evening with her." 
 
 11 Preston dead I How was it ? " 
 
 " He was thrown from a horse, and died the same day. 
 She got the telegram yesterday. I'll go down and see mother 
 for a moment." 
 
 11 Well, do ; and we'll go out to Cambridge with you. 
 ITie poor girl must feel badly." 
 
 " Yes ; she takes it very hard." 
 
 As he went out, I rapped at the door of the inner office. 
 Hallet and Cragin were both there, and the latter greeted me 
 cordially. The other was very polite and very stiff, as usual. 
 
▲ SUDDEN DISSOLUTION. 235 
 
 After a few general remarks were exchanged, I said . 
 
 " Well, Mr. Hallet, how does Frank get on ? " 
 
 " Oh ! very well. Knows a little too much, like most 
 young men of his age ; but he does very well." 
 
 " ' Very well ! ' Mr. Hallet, d— d if he don't ; he's the 
 smartest boy living. Made a clean forty thousand on the rosin 
 speculation. Forced it on Hallet against his better judgment 
 — ha ! ha ! " and Cragin laughed till he showed all that were 
 left of his tobacco-stained teeth. 
 
 " Not exactly clear, Mr. Cragin," said Hallet, a little sar- 
 castically. 
 
 11 I'm sure of it, Mr. Hallet," replied Cragin, in his quick, 
 impulsive way ; " but we might as well understand each other 
 about this first as last. If we lose by Preston, the loss is not 
 charged to Frank ; it must go to the rosin operation. You 
 took your part of the profits, you must bear your share of the 
 losses." 
 
 " Very well," replied Hallet, impatiently ; u we'll discuss 
 that some other time." 
 
 A short rap came at the office door, and Frank entered, hat 
 in hand. 
 
 11 Mother insists on going now. Are you ready, sir ? " he 
 said, addressing me. 
 
 Before I could reply, Hallet sharply asked : 
 
 " Have you written your letters for the steamer ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " "What have you said to Maclean, Maris & Co. about the 
 gum copal ? " 
 
 " I will show you, sir ; " and, going into the other room, he 
 soon returned with an open letter, still wet from the copying 
 
236 MY SOUTIIERN FRIENDS. 
 
 press. Hallet took it, read it over slowly and carefully, and, 
 handing it back, said, in the slightly pompous tone natural to 
 him : 
 
 " That will do ; you can go." 
 
 I was rising to bid them " good evening," when Hallet said 
 to me : 
 
 " Mr. Kirke, I dislike to trespass on your time ; but 
 I wish to confer with you a few moments on a private 
 matter." 
 
 " Certainly, sir ; " and I added, turning to Cragin : u Kate 
 is going out with Frank. You can take a seat with her, if you 
 like." 
 
 " Thank you ; I think I will — and there'll be room enough 
 for David, I guess" 
 
 " I want David here," said Hallet, curtly. 
 
 " Oh ! very well. You'll come soon, Ned ? " 
 
 " Yes ; before the tea cakes are cold." 
 
 When Cragin had gone, Hallet, opening the door, called : 
 
 " David ! " 
 
 The bookkeeper entered, and took a seat beside me. 
 
 M Mr. Kirke," said Hallet, when the other was seated, " I 
 want to talk with you and David about Frank. He has en- 
 tangled himself with that Southern girl, and, I hear, means to 
 marry her. I strongly object to it. I've not a particle of 
 influence with him, and you must prevent it." 
 
 " Why should I prevent it ? " I asked, rather sharply. 
 " What is there against the young woman ? " 
 
 II Nothing against her character, but she'd not be a fit wife 
 for Frank. These Southern women are educated with wrong 
 ideas ; they make poor wives for poor men. He must marry a 
 
A SUDDEN DISSOLUTION. 237 
 
 rich girl, or one brought up with New England habits. This 
 one would bring him nothing, and spend all he made." 
 
 11 But she is an only daughter, and her father is said to be 
 rich." 
 
 " Pshaw ! that is bosh ! Preston always lived high, and I'll 
 guarantee his estate is bankrupt. I'm sorry for it, for he owes us." 
 
 " Is that so ! Largely ? " 
 
 " No, not largely. How much is he overdrawn, David ? " 
 
 " Eighty-two hundred and odd." 
 
 " I'm surprised at that," I said. u The old house did not 
 allow such things." 
 
 11 Neither do we ; 'twas Cragin's work. He thought 
 'twould annoy Frank if the drafts went back, and " — he hesi- 
 tated a moment — " he insisted upon it. 'Twill be a total loss. 
 Preston acted very dishonorably about it." 
 
 " Dishonorably ! How so, Mr. Hallet ? " I asked, in a 
 tone of decided displeasure. 
 
 " Well, he drew on us to pay for some rosin bought on 
 speculation. He agreed to ship it to us, or, if he sold it there, 
 to remit enough to cover the drafts. He sold it some weeks 
 ago, and diverted the proceeds." 
 
 " Is it possible ! " I exclaimed. 
 
 It was true. To relieve me, Preston — an honest man, if 
 one ever existed — had ruined his good name ; done an act 
 which, had he lived, would have branded him to his latest day. 
 
 I said no more, and Hallet remarked : 
 
 " I would be glad to have you break up that connection, 
 Mr. Kirke." 
 
 " I cannot, Mr. Hallet. I am opposed to interfering in 
 such matters. I taught Frank to think for himself." 
 
238 MY SOUTHERN FRIENDS. 
 
 u You taught him to think too much for himself. He is 
 self-willed and headstrong to a fault." 
 
 " Perhaps you might have trained him better, if you had 
 tried," I replied, with a slight sneer. 
 
 " Pardon me, Mr. Kirke ; I mean no reflection on your 
 management of him. I only feel that this is a most important 
 step, and he ought to be advised. He should marry rich, for 
 he has nothing, and cannot rely upon me." 
 
 " He does not rely upon you ; but he is a partner now, and 
 his income ought to support a wife." 
 
 " His income is uncertain ; he may not remain long in the 
 concern," replied Hallet, coolly. 
 
 David started. His face reddened to the roots of his hair, 
 and he asked, in a sententious way : 
 
 " Who told thee that, John ? " 
 
 " No one," replied that gentleman, seemingly surprised at 
 the abrupt question ; "lam deliberating on it myself. He is 
 sowing dissension between Cragin and me. ' The lowest boy in 
 the office — even you, David, pay more heed to him than to 
 me." 
 
 " That may be your own fault," I said, a little sarcastically. 
 " If you should treat him as Cragin and David do, you would 
 have nothing to complain of." 
 
 " I treat him well, sir ; but I make him know his place." 
 The last words were emphasized in a hard, wicked tone. 
 
 Certain old recollections had been rushing across my mind 
 during the latter part of this conversation, and this last remark 
 brought me to my feet, as I said : 
 
 " You treat him like a dog, sir ! I have seen it. If he 
 were not your son, he should not stay with you another day ! " 
 
A SUDDEN DISSOLUTION. 239 
 
 In my excitement I crossed the room, and stood directly 
 before him. His face flushed, and his eye quailed before my 
 steady gaze, but he said nothing. 
 
 David remarked, in a mild tone : " Edmund, that ain't the 
 right spirit, it ain't." 
 
 " You don't know the whole, David. If you did, even you 
 would say he is the basest wretch living." 
 
 Hallet pressed his teeth together ; his eyes flashed fire, and 
 he seemed about to spring upon me. Mastering his passion, 
 he rose, after a moment, and extended his hand, saying : 
 
 " Come, Mr. Kirke, this is not the talk of old friends ! 
 Let us shake hands, and forget it." 
 
 " Never, sir ! I took your hand for the last time when I 
 left this counting room, twenty years ago. I never touch it 
 again ! I shall tell that boy, to-night, that you are his father." 
 
 " You will not do so imprudent a thing ? I will do any- 
 thing for him — anything you require. I promise you, on my 
 honor ; " and the stately head of the great house of Russell, 
 Rollins & Co. sank into a chair, and bent down, like a con- 
 victed criminal. 
 
 " I cannot trust you," I said, pacing the room. 
 
 " Thee can, Edmund ; he means it. He is sorry for the 
 wrong he's done," said the old bookkeeper, in the mild, win- 
 ning tone which made me so love him in my boyhood. 
 
 " Well, let him prove that he means it ; let him tell you 
 all ; let him tell you how much he has to repent of! " 
 
 " I have told him all. I told him years ago." 
 
 11 Did you tell him how you cast off the poor girl ? how for 
 years she vainly plead for a paltry pittance to keep her child 
 from starving, and herself from sin? Did you tell him how 
 
240 MY SOUTHERN FRIENDS. 
 
 you drove her from you with curses, when she prayed to be 
 saved from the pit of infamy into which you had plunged her ? 
 Did you tell him" — and he writhed on his seat in such agony 
 as only the guilty can feel — " how, at last, after all those 
 wretched years, she died of starvation and disease, with all 
 that mountain of sin on her soul, and all of it heaped on her 
 by you ! " 
 
 " Oh, no ; I did not — I could not tell him that ! I did not 
 know I had done that I " groaned the stately gentleman. 
 
 " You lie, John Hallet ! you know you lie ! and may God 
 deal with you as you dealt with her ; " and I took up my hat, 
 and laid my hand on the door. 
 
 " Stop ! stop, Edmund ! Don't go with those words. 
 Thee would not have God deal with thee, as thee has dealt 
 with others ! " said David, in the same mild tone as before. 
 
 11 True, David ; I should not wish him harm ; but I loathe 
 and detest the hypocritical villain. Frank shall leave him to- 
 night, and forever ! " 
 
 Hallet looked up. His face was pale as marble, and his 
 hands clenched tightly the arms of his chair. " Don't go, 
 Mr. Kirke," he cried ; " stay one moment. Can't this be 
 arranged ? " 
 
 11 Yes, sir. Sign a dissolution at once — here — now ; and 
 give Frank your check for twenty thousand dollars." 
 
 " No, no ! You don't mean that ! It is too much — you 
 can't ask that I " gasped the great merchant. 
 
 li Too much for the son of a man worth a million ? Too 
 much for starving his mother, and turning him adrift at seven 
 years old ? It is not enough ! He must have thirty thou- 
 sand ! " 
 
A SUDDEN DISSOLUTION. 241 
 
 " You are mad, Mr. Kirke ! " and he looked at me with 
 a pleading face. " I cannot pay that amount down. It is im- 
 possible." 
 
 ; ' David, how much has he in bank on private account ? 
 Hallet cast a beseeching glance at his bookkeeper ; but, 
 without moving a muscle, the old man replied : 
 " Fifty-three thousand." 
 
 " I knew you lied, Hallet. It is natural to you." 
 '' But I can't let Frank go without Mr. Cragin's consent." 
 " I will arrange with Cragin. Sign the check, and draw 
 the paper at once, or I go." 
 
 *' But give me time to think — see me to-morrow." 
 " I shall never exchange a word with you after to-night. 
 You can have ten minutes — not a second more ; " and I took 
 out my watch to count the time. 
 
 • He rested his head on his hand for a moment, and then, 
 turning to me, said : 
 
 " You promise that this interview, and all that has passed, 
 shall never be mentioned by you ? " 
 
 " That depends on yourself — never without cause." 
 "David, please write the check," said the senior partner, 
 proceeding himself to draw up the agreement. In a few min- 
 utes he handed it to me. It was short, and merely recited that 
 the copartnership which had theretofore existed between Jo] in 
 Hallet, Augustus Cragin, and Henry F. Mandel], under the 
 name and style of Russell, Rollins & Co., was on that day dis- 
 solved by mutual consent ; said Mandell withdrawing, and 
 assigning the control of all the assets of said firm to said Hal- 
 let "and Cragin, and releasing to said Hallet any portion of its 
 capital and profits to which he might be entitled. 
 11 
 
242 MY SOUTHERN FRIENDS. 
 
 I rend the document, and quietly handed it back. 
 
 "That will not do, Mr. Hallet. Thirty thousand dollars 
 settles with you, his father. I have not, and shall not make 
 any settlement with the firm. David must pay Frank what is 
 due him — no more, no less." 
 
 " But," began Mr. Hallet. 
 
 " I have nothing more to say on the subject, sir." 
 
 He drew a long sigh. The parting with an only son, and 
 with thirty thousand dollars, at one and the same time, affected 
 him deeply. He might have borne the loss of the son ; but 
 the loss of the money rent his distorted soul into fragments. 
 However, he rewrote the paper, and passed it to me. It was 
 all right ; and when he had signed, and David had witnessed 
 it, I placed it in my pocket book. Then, with a trembling 
 hand, he handed me the check. It was drawn to my order ; 
 and I remarked, as I took it : 
 
 " This is not what I require, sir. I want your check, 
 indorsed by David." 
 
 " This is most unaccountable, Mr. Kirke. Do you question f 
 my check for thirty thousand dollars ? " he asked, his face 
 flushing with anger. 
 
 " Oil ! no, sir, not at all ; but you might stop its payment. 
 With David's indorsement, you would not dare to do it." 
 
 " I will indorse it," said David ; and he quietly proceeded 
 to write another. 
 
 That hard, soulless man had a wife and children ; but that 
 old bookkeeper was the only living thing in all the wide world 
 that he either loved or trusted ! 
 
 I placed the check with the other paper, and, with David, 
 soon passed down the old stairway. 
 
A SUDDEN DISSOLUTION. 243 
 
 ****** 
 
 I found Selma plunged in the deepest grief. The telegram 
 which informed her of Preston's death was dated three days 
 before (it had been sent to Goldsboro for transmission, the tele- 
 graph lines not then running to Newbern), and she could not 
 possibly reach the plantation until after her father's burial ; but 
 she insisted on going at once. She would have his body ex- 
 humed j she must take a last look at that face which had never 
 beamed on her but in love ! 
 
 Frank proposed to escort her, but she knew he could not 
 well be spared from business at that season ; and, with a 
 bravery and self-reliance not common to her years and her sex, 
 she determined to go alone. 
 
 Shortly after my arrival at the house, she retired to her 
 room with Kate, to make the final arrangements for the jour- 
 ney ; and I seated myself with David, Cragin, and Frank, in 
 the little back parlor, which the gray-haired old Quaker and 
 his son-in-law had converted into a smoking room. 
 
 As Cragin was lighting his cigar, I said to him : 
 
 " Have you heard the news ? " 
 
 " What news ? " 
 
 " The dissolution of Russell, Rollins & Co." 
 
 " No ; there's nothing so good stirring. But you'll hear it 
 some two years hence." 
 
 " Read that ; " and I handed him the paper which Hallet 
 had signed. 
 
 "What is it, father?" asked Frank, Ins face alive with 
 interest. 
 
 II Cragin will show it to you, if it ever gets through his 
 hair. I reckon he's learning to read." 
 
244 MY SOUTHERN F B I E X D S . 
 
 " Well, I believe I cant read. What the deuce does it 
 mean ? " 
 
 11 Just what it says — Frank is free." 
 
 The young man glanced over the paper. His face ex- 
 pressed surprise, but he said nothing. 
 
 " Then you've heard how things have been going on ? " 
 asked Cragin. 
 
 "No, not a word. I've seen that Hallet was abusing the 
 boy shamefully. I came on, wanting an exciise to break the 
 copartnership." 
 
 " Do you know you've done me the greatest service in the 
 world ? I told Hallet, the other day, that we couldn't pull 
 together much longer. He refused to let me off till our term 
 is up ; but I've got him now ; " and he laughed in boyish 
 glee. 
 
 " Of course, the paper releases you as well as' Frank. It's 
 a general dissolution." 
 
 " Of course it is. How did you manage to get it ? Hal- 
 let must have been crazy. He wasn't John Hallet, that's cer- 
 tain ! " 
 
 " The genuine John, but a little excited." 
 
 " He must have been. But I'm rid of him, thank the 
 Lord ! Come, what do you say to Frank's going in with me ? 
 I'll pack him off to Europe at once — he can secure most of 
 the old business." 
 
 " He must decide about that. He can come with me, if he 
 likes. He'll not go a begging, that's certain. He'll have 
 thirty thousand to start with." 
 
 " Thirty thousand ! " exclaimed Frank. " No, father, you 
 can't do that ; you need every dollar you've got." 
 
A SUDDEN DISSOLUTION. 245 
 
 " Yes, I do, and more too. But the money is yours, not 
 mine.. You shall have it to-morrow." 
 
 " Mine ! Where did it come from ? " 
 
 11 From a relative of yours. But he's modest , he don't 
 want to be known." 
 
 " But I ought to know. I thought I had no relatives." 
 
 " Well, you haven't — only this one, and he's rich as mud. 
 He gave you the five thousand ; but this is a last instalment — 
 you won't get another red cent." 
 
 u I don't feel exactly like taking money in that way." 
 
 " Pshaw, my boy ! I tell you it's yours — rightfully and 
 honestly. You ought to have more ; but he's closefisted, and 
 you must be content with this." 
 
 " Well, Frank," said Cragin, " what do you say to hitching 
 horses with me ? I'll give you two fifths, and put a hundred 
 against your thirty." 
 
 " What shall I do ? " said Frank to me. 
 
 " You'd better accept. It's more than I can allow you." 
 
 " Then it's a trade ? " asked Cragin. 
 
 "Yes," said Frank. 
 
 " Well, old gentleman, what do you say — will you move 
 the old stool ? " said Cragin, addressing David. 
 
 " Yes ; I like Frank too well to stay with even his father." 
 
 In the gleeful mood which had taken possession of the old 
 man, the words slipped from his tongue before he was aware 
 of it. He would have recalled them on the instant, but it was 
 too late. Cragin caught them, and exclaimed : 
 
 " His father ! Well, that explains some riddles. D — d if 
 I won't call the new firm Hallet, Cragin & Co. I've got him 
 all around — ha ! ha ! " 
 
246 MY SOUTHERN FRIENDS. 
 
 Frank seemed thunderstruck. Soon he .plied me with 
 questions. 
 
 " I can say nothing ; I gave my word I would not. 
 David has betrayed it ; let him explain, if he pleases." 
 
 The old bookkeeper then told the young man his history, 
 revealing everything but the degradation of his poor mother. 
 Frank walked the room, struggling with contending emotions. 
 AVhen David concluded, he put his hand in mine, and spoke a 
 few low words. His voice sounded like his mother's. It was 
 a^ain her blessing that I heard. 
 
 * * * * * * t 
 
 Two weeks afterward, the old sign came down from the old 
 warehouse — came down, after hanging there three quarters 
 of a century, and in its place went up a black board, on which, 
 emblazoned in glaring gilt letters, were the two words, 
 
 "John Hallet." 
 
 On the same day, the busy crowd passing up old Long 
 Wharf might have seen, over a doorway not far distant, a 
 plainer feign. It read : 
 
 " Cragin, Mandell & Co." 
 
CHAPTEE XXIV. 
 
 A HURRIED JOURNEY. 
 
 Kate heard frequently from Selma within the first two 
 months after her departure, but then her letters suddenly 
 ceased. Her last one expressed the intention of returning to 
 the North during the following week. We looked for her, but 
 she did not come. Week after week went by, and still she 
 did not come. Kate wrote, inquiring when we might expect 
 her, but received no reply. She wrote again and again, and 
 still no answer came. " Something has happened to her. Do 
 write Mrs. Preston," said Kate. I wrote her. She either did 
 not deign to reply, or she did not receive the letter. 
 
 None of Selma's friends had heard from her for more than 
 three months, and we were in a state of painful anxiety and 
 uncertainty, when, one morning, among my letters, I found one 
 addressed to my wife, in Selma's handwriting. Her previous 
 letters had been mailed at Trenton, but this was postmarked 
 " Newbern." I sent it at once to my house. About an hour 
 afterward I was surprised by Kate's appearance in the office. 
 Her face was pale, her manner hurried and excited. She 
 held a small carpet bag in her hand. 
 
 " You must start at once by the first train. You've not a 
 moment to spare ! " 
 
248 MY SOUTHERN FRIENDS. 
 
 11 Start where ? " 
 
 She handed me the letter. " Read that." 
 
 It was hurriedly and nervously written. I read : 
 
 "•My dearest Friend : I know you have not forsaken 
 me, but I have written you, oh ! so many times. To-day, Ally 
 lias told me that perhaps our letters are intercepted at the 
 Trenton post office. It must be so. He takes this to New- 
 bern. Is he not kind ? He has been my faithful friend 
 through all. Though ordered away from the plantation, he 
 refused to go, and stood by me through the worst. He, whom 
 my own sister so cruelly wronged, has done everything for 
 me ! "Whatever may become of me, I shall ever bless him. 
 
 "I have not heard from or seen any of my friends. Even 
 my brother has not answered my letters ; but he must be here 
 on the 17th, at the sale. That is now my only hope. I shall 
 then be freed from this misery — worse than death. God bless 
 you ! Your wretched Selma." 
 
 " I will go," was all that I said. Kate sat down, and 
 wept. " Oh ! some terrible thing has befallen her ! "What 
 can it be ? " 
 
 I was giving some hurried directions to my partners, when 
 a telegram was handed in. It was from Boston, and addressed 
 to me personally. I opened it, and read : 
 
 " I have just heard that Selma is a slave. To be sold on 
 the seventeenth. I can't go. You must. Buy her on my 
 account. Pay any price. I have written Frank. Let noth- 
 ing prevent your starting at once. If your partners should 
 be short while you're away, let them draw on me. 
 
 " Augustus Cragin." 
 
A HUEEIED JOURNEY. 249 
 
 It was then the morning of the twelfth. Making all the 
 connections, and there being no delay of the trains, I should 
 reach the plantation early on the seventeenth. 
 
 At twelve o'clock I was on the way. Steam was too slow 
 for my impatience. I would have harnessed the lightning. 
 At last — it was sundown of the sixteenth — the stage drove 
 into Newbern. 
 
 With my carpet bag in my hand, I rushed into the hotel. 
 Four or five loungers were in the office, and the lazy bar- 
 tender was mixing drinks behind the counter. 
 
 " Sir, I want a horse, or a horse and buggy, at once." 
 
 " A horse ? Ye're in a hurry, hain't ye ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " "Wall, I reckon ye'll hev ter git over it. Thar hain't a 
 durned critter in th' whole place." 
 
 " I'm in no mood for jesting, sir. I want a horse at once. 
 I will deposit twice his value." 
 
 " Ye couldn't git nary critter, stranger, ef ye wus made 
 uv gold. They're all off — off ter Squire Preston's sale." 
 
 " The sale ! Has it begun ? " 
 
 " I reckon ! Ben a gwine fur two days." 
 
 My heart sank within me. I was too late ! 
 
 " A.re all the negroes sold ? " 
 
 " No ; them comes on ter morrer. He's got a likely gang." 
 I breathed more freely. At this moment a well-dressed 
 gentleman, followed by a good-looking yellow man, entered the 
 room. He wore spurs, and was covered with dust. Ap- 
 proaching the counter, he said : 
 
 " Here, you lousy devil — a drink for me and my boy. I'm 
 dryer than a parson — Old Bourbon." 
 11* 
 
250 MY SOUTHERN FRIENDS. 
 
 As the bartender poured out the liquor, the newcomer's eye 
 fi'll upon me. His face seemed familiar, but I could not recall 
 it. Scanning me for a moment, he held out his hand in a free, 
 cordial manner, saying : 
 
 " Ah, Mr. Kirke, is this you ? You don't remember me ? 
 my name is Gaston." 
 
 " Mr. Gaston, I'm glad to see you," I replied, returning his 
 salutation. 
 
 "Have a drink, sir?" 
 
 " Thank you." I emptied the glass. I was jaded, and 
 had eaten nothing since morning. " I'm in pursuit of a horse 
 under difficulties, Mr. Gaston. Perhaps you can tell me where 
 to get one. I must be at Preston's to-night." 
 
 " They're scarcer than hen's teeth round here, just now, I 
 reckon. But hold on ; I go there in the morning. I'll bor- 
 row a buggy, and you can ride up with me." 
 
 " No, I must be there to-night. How far is it ? " 
 
 " Twenty miles." 
 
 11 AY ell, I'll walk. Landlord, give me supper at once." 
 
 " Walk there ! My dear sir, we don't abuse strangers in 
 1 these diero-in's.' The road is sandier than an Arab desert. 
 
 <..o 
 
 You'd never get there afoot, Tom," he added, calling to his 
 man, " give Buster some oats ; rub him down, and have him 
 here in half an hour. Vanish, now, like greased lightning." 
 Then, turning to me, he continued : " You can have my horse. 
 He's a spirited fellow, and you'll need to keep an eye on him ; 
 but he'll get you there in two hours." 
 " But how will you get .on ? " 
 " I'll take my boy's, and leave the darky here." 
 "Mr. Gaston, I cannot tell you the service you're doing me.'' 
 
A HUEEIED JOUENET. 251 
 
 " Don't speak of it, my dear sir. A stranger can have 
 anything of mine but my wife. I keep her as private prop- 
 erty ; " and he laughed pleasantly. 
 
 He went with me into the supper room, and there told me 
 that the sale of Preston's plantation, furniture, live stock, farm 
 tools, &c, had occupied the two previous days ; and that the 
 negroes were to be put on the block at nine o'clock the next 
 morning. " I've got my eye on one or two of them, that I 
 mean to buy. The niggers will sell well, I reckon." 
 
 After supper, we strolled again into the barroom. Ap- 
 proaching the counter, my eye fell on the hotel register, 
 which lay open upon it. I glanced involuntarily over the 
 book. Among the arrivals of the previous day, I noticed two 
 recorded in a hand that I at once recognized. The names 
 were, "John Hallet, New Orleans; Jacob Larkix, ditto" 
 
 " Are these crentlemen here ? " I asked the bartender. 
 
 " No ; they left same day the' come." 
 
 " Where did they go ? " 
 
 " Doan't know." 
 
 In five minutes, with my carpet bag strapped to the pom- 
 mel of the saddle, I was bounding up the road to Trenton. 
 
 It was nearly ten o'clock when I sprang from the horse, 
 and rang the bell at the mansion. A light was burning in the 
 library, but the rest of the house was dark. A negro opened 
 the door. 
 
 " Where is Master Joe, or Miss Selly ? " 
 
 " In de library, massa. I'll tell dem you'm yere." 
 
 " No ; I'll go myself. Look afier my horse." 
 
 I strode through the parlors and the passage way to the old 
 room. Selma was seated on a lounge by the side of Joe, her 
 
252 MY SOUTHERN FRIENDS. 
 
 head on his shoulder. As I opened the door, I spoke the two 
 
 words : " My child ! " 
 
 She looked up, sprang to her feet, and rushed into my 
 
 arms. 
 
 " And you are safe ! " I cried, putting back her soft brown 
 
 hair, and kissing her pale, beautiful forehead. 
 
 " Yes, I am safe. My brother is here — I am safe." 
 
 " Joe — God bless you ! — you're a noble fellow ! " 
 
 He was only twenty-three, but his face was already seamed 
 
 and haggard, and his hair thickly streaked with white ! We 
 
 sat down, and from Selma's lips I learned the events of the 
 
 preceding months. 
 
CHAPTER XXY. 
 
 TRUTH THAT IS STRANGER THAN FICTION. 
 
 Selma arrived at home about a week after her father'i 
 funeral. The affairs of the plantation were going on much aa . 
 usual, but Mrs. Preston was there in apparently the greatest 
 grief. She seemed inconsolable ; talked much of her loss, and 
 expressed great fears for the future. Her husband had left no , 
 will, and nothing would" remain for her but the dower in the 
 real estate, and that would sell for but little. 
 
 The more Preston's affairs were investigated, the worse 
 they appeared. He was in debt everywhere. An adminis- 
 trator was appointed, and he decided that a sale of everything 
 — the two plantations and the negroes — would be necessary. 
 
 Selma felt little interest in the pecuniary result, but sympa- 
 thy for her stepmother induced her to remain at home, week 
 after week, when her presence there was no longer of service. 
 At last she made preparations to return ; but, as she wa3 
 on the point of departure, Mrs. Preston — whose face then 
 wore an expression of triumphant malignity which chilled 
 Selma's very life-blood — told her that she could not go ; that 
 she was a part of her father's estate, and must remain, and be 
 sold with the other negroes ! 
 
 Dawsey, shortly prior to this, had become a frequent visitor 
 
254 MY SOUTHERN FRIENDS. 
 
 at the plantation ; and, the week before, Phyllis had been 
 dreadfully whipped under his supervision. Selma interceded 
 for her, but could not avert the punishment. She did not at 
 the time know why it was done, but at last the reason was 
 revealed to her. 
 
 Among the papers of the first Mrs. Preston, the second 
 wife had found a bill of sale, by which, in consideration of one 
 gold watch, two diamond rings, an emerald pin, two gold 
 bracelets, some family plate, and other jewelry, of the total 
 
 value of five hundred dollars, General , of Newbern, 
 
 had conveyed a negro girl called " Lucy," to Mrs. Lucy Pres- 
 ton, wife of Robert Preston, Esq. Said girl was described as 
 seven years old, light complexioned, with long, curly hair, of 
 a golden brown ; and the child of Phyllis, otherwise called 
 Phyllis Preston, then the property of Jacob Larkin. 
 
 Mrs. Preston inquired of Phjdlis what had become of the 
 child. The nurse denied all knowledge of it ; but Selma's age, 
 her peculiar hair, and her strong resemblance to Rosey, excited 
 the Yankee woman's suspicions, and she questioned the mother 
 more closely. Phyllis still denied all knowledge of her child, 
 and, for that denial, was whipped — whipped till her flesh was 
 cut into shreds, and she fainted from loss of blood. After the 
 whipping, she was left in an old cabin, to live or die — her mis- 
 tress did not care which ; and there Ally found her at night, 
 on his return from his work in the swamp. Wrapping her 
 mangled body in an oiled sheet, he conveyed her to his cabin. 
 Dinah carefully nursed her, and ere long she was able to sit 
 up. Then Mrs. Preston told her that, as soon as she was suffi- 
 ciently recovered to live through it, she would be again and 
 again beaten, till she disclosed the fate of the child. 
 
TRUTH STRANGER THAN FICTION. 255 
 
 She still denied all knowledge of it ; but, fearing the rage 
 of her mistress, she sent for her husband, then keeping a small 
 o-roo-crery at Trenton, four miles away. He came, and had a 
 conference with Ally and Dinah about the best way of saving 
 his wife from further abuse. Phyllis was unable to Walk or to 
 ride, therefore flight was out of the question. Ally proposed 
 that Mulock should oversee his gang for a time, while he re- 
 mained about home, and kept watch over her. None of the 
 negroes could be induced to whip her in his presence; and 
 if Dawsey or any other white man attempted it, he was free 
 — he would meet them with their own weapons. Mulock 
 agreed to this, and the next day went to the swamp. 
 
 Learning of his presence on the plantation, the mistress 
 sent for him, and, by means of a paltry bribe, induced him to 
 reveal all ! Selma thought he loved Phyllis as much as his 
 brutal nature was capable of loving, and that he betrayed her 
 to save her mother from farther ill usage. 
 
 The next morning, four strong men entered Ally's cabin 
 before he had left his bed, bound him hand and foot, and 
 dragged Phyllis away, to be again whipped for having refused 
 to betray Selma. Unable to stand, she was tied to a stake, and 
 unmercifully beaten. Weak from the effects of the previous 
 whipping, and crushed in spirit by anxiety for her child, nature 
 could no longer sustain her. A fever set in, and, at the end 
 of a week, she died. 
 
 Selma was told of their relation to each other. The nurse, 
 so devotedly attached to her, and whom she had so long loved, 
 was her own mother ! She learned this only in time to see 
 her die, and to hear her last blessing. 
 
 Then Selma experienced all the bitterness of slavery. She 
 
or 
 
 5(3 MY SOUTHERN FRIENDS. 
 
 was set at work in the kitchen with the other slaves. It 
 seemed that Mrs. Preston took especial delight in assigning to 
 the naturally high-spirited and sensitive girl the most menial 
 employments. .Patiently trusting in God that He would send 
 deliverance, she endeavored to perform, uncomplainingly, her 
 allotted tasks. Wholly unaccustomed to such work, weary in 
 body and -sick at heart, she dragged herself about from day 
 to day, till at last Mrs. Preston, disgusted with her " laziness," 
 as she termed it, directed her to be taken to the quarters and 
 beaten with fifty lashes! 
 
 Ally had been ordered away by the mistress, and that morn- 
 ing had gone to Trenton to consult the administrator, and get 
 his permission to stay on the plantation. That gentleman — a 
 kind-hearted, upright man — not ouly told him he could remain, 
 but gave him a written order to take and keep Selma in his 
 custody. 
 
 He returned at night, to find she had been whipped. His 
 blood boilmir with rage, he entered the mansion, and demanded 
 to see her. Mrs. Preston declined. He then gave her the 
 order of the administrator. She tore it into fragments, and 
 bade him leave the house. He refused to go without Selma, 
 and quietly seated himself on the sofa. Mrs. Preston then 
 called in ten or twelve of the field hands, and told them to 
 eject him. They either would not or dared not do it ; and, 
 without more delay, he proceeded to search for Selma. At 
 last he found her apartment. He burst open the door, and saw 
 her lying on a low, miserable bed, writhing in agony from her 
 wounds. Throwing a blanket over her, he lifted her in his 
 arms, and carried her to his cabin. Dinah ca'refully attended 
 her, and that night she thanked God, and — slept. 
 
TEUTH STEAXGER THAN FICTION. 257 
 
 The next morning, before the sun was fully up, Dawsey 
 and three other white men, heavily armed, came to the cabin, 
 and demanded admittance. Ally refused, and barricaded the 
 door. They finally stealthily effected an entrance through a 
 window in the kitchen, and, breaking down the communication 
 with the "living room," in which apartment the mulatto man 
 and his mother were, they rushed in upon them. Ally, the 
 previous day, had procured a couple of revolvers at Trenton, 
 and Dinah and he, planting themselves before the door of old 
 Deborah's room, in which Selma was sleeping, pointed the 
 weapons at the intruders. The assailants paused, when Daw- 
 sey shouted out : " Are you afraid of two d — d niggers — and 
 one a woman ! " Aiming his pistol at Ally, he fired. The 
 ball struck the negro's left arm. Discharging two or three 
 barrels at them, the old woman and her son then rushed upon 
 the white men, and they fled ! all but one — he remained ; 
 for Dinah caught him in a loving embrace, and pummelled him 
 until he might have been mistaken for calves-foot jelly. 
 
 Ally then sent a messenger to the administrator, who rode 
 over in the afternoon, and took Selma to his own house. 
 There she remained till her brother reached the plantation — 
 three days before my arrival. 
 
 As soon as she was safely at Trenton, Selma wrote to her 
 friends, mailing the letters at that post office. She received no 
 answers. Again and again she wrote ; the administrator also 
 wrote," but still no replies came. At last Ally suggested mail- 
 ing the letters at Newbern, and rode down with one to Joe, 
 one to Alice, and one to Kate. . 
 
 Her brother came on at once. In the first ebullition of his 
 anger he ejected his stepmother from the mansion. She went 
 
258 MY SOUTHERN FRIENDS. 
 
 to Dawsey's, and, the next Jay, appeared at the sale with that 
 gentleman ; and then announced that for two months she had 
 been the woman- whipper's wife. 
 
 Dawsey had bought the plantation, and most of the furni- 
 ture, the day before, and had said he intended to buy all of the 
 " prime " negroes. 
 
 As Selma concluded, Joe quietly remarked : 
 
 " He'll be disappointed in that. I allowed him the planta- 
 tion and furniture, because I've no use for them ; but I made 
 him pay more than they are worth. The avails will help me 
 through with father's debts ; but not a single hand shall go 
 into his clutches. I shall buy them myself." 
 
 " What will you do with them ? " 
 
 " I have bought a plantation near Mobile. I shall put 
 them upon it. Joe will manage them, and I'll live there with 
 Selly." 
 
 " You're a splendid fellow, Joe. But it seems a pity that 
 woman should profane your father's house." 
 
 " Oh ! there's no danger of that. I've engaged ' furnished 
 apartments ' for her elsewhere." 
 
 " What do you mean ? " 
 
 " The sheriff is asleep up stairs. He has a warrant against 
 her for the murder of Phyllis. When she comes here in the 
 morning, it will be served ! " 
 
CHAPTEK XXYI. 
 
 THE NEGRO SALE. 
 
 The next morning I rose early, and strolled out to the 
 negro quarters. At the distance of about a hundred yards 
 from the mansion, the sun was touching the tops of about 
 thirty canvas camps, and, near them, large numbers of horses, 
 " all saddled and bridled," were picketed among the trees. 
 Some dozens of "natives" were littered around, asleep on the 
 ground ; and here and there a barelegged, barefooted woman 
 was lying beside a man on a " spring " mattrass, of the kind 
 that is supposed to have been patented in Paradise. 
 
 It was a beautiful morning in May, and one would have 
 thought, from* the appearance of the motley collection, that the 
 whole people had " come up to worship the Lord in their 
 tents," after the manner of the Israelites. The rich planter, 
 the small farmer, the "white trash" — all classes, had gathered 
 to the negro sale, like crows to a feast of carrion. 
 
 A few half-awake, half-sober, russet-clad, bewhiskered 
 "gentry," were lighting fires under huge iron pots; but the 
 larger portion of the " congregation " was still wrapped in 
 slumber. + 
 
 Passing them, I knocked at the door of Allv's cabin. The 
 family was already astir, and the various members gave me a 
 
2G0 MY SOUTHERN FRIENDS. 
 
 greeting that cannot be howjld now anywhere with a handful 
 of "greenbacks." Boss Joe, Aggy, and old Deborah had 
 arrived, and were quartered with Ally. 
 
 " An' 'ou wusn't a gwine ter leff massa Preston's own 
 chile be sole widout bein' yere ; was 'ou, -massa Kirke ? " cried 
 Dinah, her face beaming all over with pleasurable emotion. 
 
 " No, Dinah ; and I've come here so early to tell you how 
 much I think of you. A woman that can handle four white 
 men as you did, is fit to head an army." 
 
 " Lor' bress 'ou, massa ! dat wusn't nuffin'. I could 
 handle a whole meetin'-house full ob sech as dem." 
 
 " Joe, you know your master's plans, I suppose ? " 
 
 " Yas, massa Kirke ; he mean ter buy all de folks." 
 
 " But can he raise money enough for the whole ? " 
 
 " I reckon so. Massa Joe got a heap." 
 
 " But don't you want to borrow some to help out your 
 pile ? " 
 
 " I'se 'bliged ter you, sar ; but I reckon I doan't. I'se got 
 nigh on ter free thousan', an' nary one'll pay more'n dat fur a 
 ole man an' two ole wimmin." 
 
 " I hope not," 
 
 I remained there for a half hour, and then strolled back to 
 the mansion. On the lawn, at the side of the house, was the 
 auction block — the carpenter's bench which had officiated at 
 Ally's wedding. It was approached by a flight of steps, and 
 at one end was the salesman's stand — a high stool, in front of 
 which was a small portable desk supported on stakes driven 
 into the ground. Near the block was a*toooth fitted up for the 
 special accommodation of thirsty buyers. The proprietor was 
 just opening his own and his establishment's peepers, and I 
 
THE NEGRO SALE. 261 
 
 looked in upon him. His red, bloated visage seemed familiar 
 to me. Perceiving me, lie said : 
 
 " How is ye, stranger ? Hev a eye-opener ? " 
 
 "I reckon not, old fellow; but I ought to know you. 
 Your name is Tom." 
 
 " Thomas, stranger ; but Tom, fur short." 
 
 11 Well, Thomas, I thought you had taken your last drink. 
 I saw your store was closed, as I came along." 
 
 " Yas ; tli' durned 'ristocrats driv me out uv thet nigh a 
 yar ago." 
 
 " And where are you now ? " 
 
 " Up ter Trenton. I'm doin' right smart thar. Me an' 
 Mulock — thet used ter b'long yere — is in partenship. But 
 whar moight ye hev seed me, stranger ? " 
 
 " At your store, over ten years since. I bought a woman 
 there. You were having a turkey match at the time." 
 
 " Oh, yas ! I 'call ye now. An' th' pore gal's dead ! 
 Thet d — d Yankee 'ooman shud pull hemp fur thet." 
 
 " Yes ; but the devil seldom gets his due in this world." 
 
 ' Thet ar's a fact, stranger. Come, hev a drink ; I woan't 
 ax ye a red." 
 
 " No, excuse me, Tom ; it's before breakfast ; " and, walk- 
 ing off. I entered the mansion. 
 
 O ' . 
 
 ****** 
 
 Shortly after breakfast the people from the neighboring 
 plantations began to gather to the sale, and, by the hour 
 appointed for it to commence, about five hundred men and . 
 women had collected on the ground. Some were on horse- 
 back, some in carriages, but the majority were seated on the 
 grass, or on benches improvised for the occasion. 
 
2G2 MY SOUTHERN FKIENDS. 
 
 A few minutes before the " exercises " commenced, the 
 negroes were marched upon the lawn. No seats had been pro- 
 vided for them, and they huddled together inside a small area 
 staked off for their reception. They were of all colors and 
 ages. Husbands and wives, parents and children, grand- 
 parents and grandchildren, aunts, uncles, and cousins, gath- 
 ered in little family groups, and breathlessly awaited the 
 stroke of the hammer which was to decide their destiny. They 
 were all clad in their Sunday clothes, and looked clean and 
 tidy ; but on every face except Joe's was depicted an ill- 
 defined feeling of dread and consternation. Husbands held 
 their wives in their arms, and mothers hugged their children 
 to their bosoms, as if they might soon part forever ; but when 
 old Joe passed among them, saying a low word to this one and 
 the other, their cloudy visages brightened, and a heavy load 
 seemed to roll off their hearts. Joe w T as as radiant as a sum- 
 mer morning, and walked about with a quiet dignity and 
 unconcern that might have led one to think him the owner of 
 the entire " invoice of chattels." 
 
 As the auctioneer — a spruce importation from Newbern — 
 mounted the bench, a splendid carriage, drawn by two magnifi- 
 cent grays, and driven by a darky in livery, made its way 
 through the crowd, and drew up opposite the stand. In it 
 were Dawsey and his wife ! 
 
 The salesman's hammer came down. " Gentlemen and 
 ladies," he said, " the sale has commenced. I am about to 
 „ offer you one hundred and sixty-one likely negro men and 
 women, belonging to the estate of Robert Preston, Esq., 
 deceased. Each one will be particularly described when put 
 up, and all will be warranted as represented. They will be 
 
THE NEGEO SALE. . 263 
 
 sold in families ; that is, husbands and wives, and parents and 
 young children, will not be separated. The terms are, one 
 quarter cash, the balance in one year, secured by an approved 
 indorsed note. Persons having claims against the estate will 
 be allowed to pay by authenticated accounts and duebills. 
 The first lot I shall offer you will be the mulatto man Joe and 
 his wife Agnes. Joe is known through all this region as a 
 negro of uncommon worth and intelligence. He is " 
 
 Here he was interrupted by Dawsey, who exclaimed, in a 
 hurried manner : 
 
 " I came here expecting this sale would be conducted 
 according to custom — that each hand would be put up sepa- 
 rately. I protest against this innovation, Mr. Auctioneer." 
 
 The auctioneer made no reply ; but the administrator, a 
 small, self-possessed man, mounted the bench, and said : 
 
 11 Sir, I regulate this sale. If you are not satisfied with 
 its conditions, you are not obliged to bid." 
 
 Dawsey made a passionate reply. In the midst of it, Joe 
 sprang upon the stand, and, in a clear, determined voice, called 
 out : 
 
 " Mr. Sheriff, do your duty."* 
 
 A large, powerful man, in blue coat and brass buttons, 
 stepped to the side of the carriage, and, coolly opening the 
 door, said : 
 
 " Catherine Dawsey, you are charged with aiding and 
 abetting in the murder of Phyllis Preston. I arrest you. 
 Please come with me." 
 
 u By , sir ! " cried Dawsey ; " this lady is my wife ! " 
 
 " It makes no difference whose wife she is, sir. She is my 
 prisoner." 
 
264 MY SOUTHERN FRIENDS. 
 
 " She must not be touched by you, or any other man ! " 
 yelled Dawsey, drawing his pistol. Before he could fire, he 
 rolled on to the ground, insensible. The sheriff had struck 
 him a quick blow on the head with a heavy cane. 
 
 As her husband fell, Mrs. Dawsey sprang upon the driver's 
 seat, and, seizing the reins from the astonished negro, applied 
 the lash to the horses. They reared, and started. The panic- 
 stricken crowd parted, like waves in a storm, and the spirited 
 animals bounded swiftly down the avenue. They had nearly 
 reached the cluster of liveoaks which borders the small lakej" 
 when a man sprang at their heads. He missed them, fell, and 
 the carriage passed over him ; but the horses shied from the 
 road into the trees, and in an instant the splendid vehicle was 
 a mass of fragments, and Mrs. Preston and the negro were 
 sprawling on the ground. The lady was taken up senseless, 
 and badly hurt, but breathing. The driver was dead ! 
 
 The crowd hurried across the green to the scene of dis- 
 aster. Joe and I reached the man in the road at the same 
 instant. It was Ally ! "We took him up, bore him to the 
 edge of the pond, and bathed his forehead with water. In a 
 few minutes he opened his eyes. 
 
 " Are you much hurt, Ally ? " asked Joe, with almost 
 breathless eagerness. 
 
 " I reckon not, massa Joe," said Ally ; : ' my head, yere, 
 am sore, an' dis ankle p'raps am broke. Leff me see ; " and he 
 rose to his feet, and tried his leg. " No, massa Joe ; it'm 
 sound's a pine knot. I hain't done fur dis time." 
 
 "Thank God!" exclaimed Joe, with an indescribable ex- 
 pression of relief. 
 
 Mrs. Dawsey was borne to the mansion, the negro carried 
 
THE NEGRO SALE. 265 
 
 off to the quarters, and, in a few moments, the crowd once 
 more gathered around the auctioneer's stand. Dawsey, by 
 this time recovered from the sheriff's blow, was cursing and 
 swearing terribly over the disaster to his wife and — his prop- 
 erty. 
 
 " Twenty-five hundred dollars gone at a blow ! D — n the 
 woman ; didn't she know better than that ? " 
 
 As he followed his wife into the house, the sheriff said to 
 the administrator, who was a justice of the peace : 
 
 " Make me out a warrant for that man — obstructing the 
 execution of the law." 
 
 The warrant was soon made out, and in fifteen minutes, 
 Dawsey, raving like a wild animal, was driven off to jail 
 at Trenton. Mrs. Preston, too much injured to be moved, was 
 left under guard at the mansion, and the sale proceeded. 
 
 Boss Joe and Aggy ascended the block, and " Master 
 Joe " took a stand beside them. 
 
 " How much is said for these prime negroes ? " cried the 
 auctioneer. " Everybody knows what they are, and there's no 
 use preaching a sermon over them. Boss Joe might do that, 
 but / can't. He can preach equal to any white man you ever 
 hard. Come, gentlemen, start a bid. How much do you 
 say?" 
 
 " A thousand," said a voice in the crowd. 
 
 11 Eleven hundred," cried another. 
 
 " It's a d — d shame to bid on them, gentlemen. Boss Joe 
 has been saving money to buy himself; and I think no white 
 man should bid against him," cried a man at my elbow. 
 
 It was Gaston, who had just arrived on the ground. 
 
 " Thet's a fact." " Them's my sentiments." " D— n th' 
 12 
 
266 MY SOUTHERN FRIENDS. 
 
 man thet'll bid agin a nigger." " Thet's so, Gaston," echoed 
 from all directions. 
 
 " But I yere th' darky's got a pile — some two thousan' ; 
 thct gwoes 'long with him, W course," yelled one of the 
 crowd. 
 
 " Of course it don't ! " said young Joe, from the stand. 
 " He's saved about three thousand out of a commission his 
 master allowed him ; but he gave that to .me, long before my 
 father died. It is mine — not his. I bid twelve hundred for 
 him and his wife ; and I will say to the audience, that I shall 
 advance on whatever sum may be offered for them. So fire 
 away, gentlemen ; I ask no favors." 
 
 " Is there any more bid for this excellent couple ? " cried 
 the auctioneer. "It is my duty to cry them, and to tell you 
 they're worth twice that money." 
 
 There was no more bid, and Boss Joe and Aggy were 
 struck down at twelve hundred dollars — about two thirds their 
 market value. 
 
 " Now, gentlemen, we will offer you the old negress, Deb- 
 orah, the mother of Joe. Bring her forward ! " cried the man 
 of the hammer. 
 
 Four strong negroes lifted the chair of the aged African, 
 and bore her to the block. "When the strange vehicle reached 
 the steps, young Preston steadied it into its appropriate po- 
 sition, and then took a stand beside it. 
 
 " This aged lady, gentlemen, is warranted over eighty ; she 
 may be a hundred. She can't walk, but she can pray and sing 
 to kill. How much is bid for all this piety done up in black 
 crape ? ' ; cried the auctioneer, smiling complacently, as if con- 
 scious of saying a witty thing. 
 
THE NEGRO SALE. 267 
 
 Joe turned on him quickly. " Sir, you are employed to 
 sell these people, not to sport with their feelings. Let me 
 hear no more of this." 
 
 " No offence, Mr. Preston. Gentlemen, how much is bid 
 for old Deborah ? " 
 
 " Five dollars," said young Preston. 
 
 The old negress, who sat nearly double, straightened up 
 her bent form, and, looking at Joe with a sad, pleading expres- 
 sion, exclaimed : 
 
 " Oh, massa Joe ! ole nussy 'm wuth more'n dat. 'Ou 
 woan't leff har be sole fur no sech money as dat, will 'ou, 
 massa Joe ? " 
 
 " No, aunty ; not if you want to bring more. I'd give 
 your weight in gold for you ; " and, turning to the auctioneer, 
 he said : " A hundred dollars is my bid, sir." 
 
 u Bress 'ou, massa Joe ! bress 'ou ! 'Ou'm my own 
 dear, bressed chile ! " exclaimed the old negress, clutching at 
 his hand, and, with a sudden effort, rising to her feet. She 
 stood thus for a moment, then she staggered back, fell into her 
 chair, uttered a low moan, and — was free ! 
 
 A wild excitement followed, during which the body was 
 borne off. It was a full half hour before quiet was restored 
 and the sale resumed. Then about twenty negroes, of both 
 ' sexes, were put up singly. All of them were bought by Joe, 
 except a young woman, whose husband belonged to Gaston. 
 The bidding on her was spirited, and she was run up to ten 
 hundred and fifty dollars. As Gaston bid that sum, he jumped 
 upon a bench, and called out : 
 
 " Gentlemen, I can stand this as long as you can. I mean 
 to have this woman, anyhow." 
 
2G8 MY SOUTHERN FEIENDS, 
 
 No one offered more, and " the lot" was struck off to Gas- 
 ton. Joe did not bid on her at all. 
 
 When the next negro ascended the stand, Joe beckoned to 
 me, and said : 
 
 • '• Sclly is next on the catalogue. Will you bring her 
 here ? " 
 
 As I entered the mansion, she met me. Her face was 
 pale, and there was a nervous twitching about her mouth, 
 but she quietly said : 
 
 " You have come for me ? " 
 
 " Yes, my child. Have courage ; it will soon be over." 
 
 She laid her head upon my shoulder for a moment ; then, 
 turning her large, clear, but tearless eyes up to mine, she said : 
 
 " I trust in God ! " 
 
 I took her arm in mine, and walked out to the stand. The 
 auctioneer was waiting for her, and we ascended the block 
 together. A slight tremor passed over her frame as she met 
 the sea of upturned faces, all eagerly gazing at her ; and, put- 
 ting my arm about her, I whispered : 
 
 " Do not fear. Lean on me." 
 
 II I do not fear," was the low reply. 
 
 " Now, gentlemen," cried the auctioneer, in an unfeeling, 
 business-like way, " I offer you the girl, Lucy Selma. She is 
 seventeen years old ; in good health ; well brought up — a supe- 
 rior lot every way. She has recently been employed at cook- 
 ing, but, as you see, is better adapted to lighter work. How 
 much shall I have for her ? Come, bid fast, gentlemen ; we 
 are taking up too much time." 
 
 Before any response could be made to this appeal, Joe 
 stepped to the side of Selma, and, in a slow, deliberate voice, 
 said : 
 
THE NEGEO SALE. 269 
 
 " Gentlemen, allow me a few words. This young lady is 
 my sister. I have always supposed — she has always supposed 
 that she was the legitimate child of my father. She was not. 
 My mother bought her when she was very young ; gave her 
 jewels — all she had — for her, and adopted her as her own 
 child. The law does not allow a married woman to hold sepa- 
 rate property, and Selma is therefore inventoried in my father's 
 estate, and must be sold. Rightfully, she belongs to me ! 
 She has been delicately and tenderly reared, and is totally un- 
 fitted for any of the usual work of slave women. Her value 
 for such purposes is very little. I shall bid a thousand dollars 
 for her, which is more than she is worth for any honest use. 
 If any man bids more, it is his life or mine before he 
 leaves the ground ! " 
 
 A breathless silence fell on the assemblage. It lasted for a 
 few moments, when Gaston called out : 
 
 " Come, Joe, this isn't fair. You've no right to interfere 
 with the sale. I came here prepared to go twenty-five hun- 
 dred for her mvself." 
 
 In a firm but moderate tone, the young man replied : 
 
 " I intend no disrespect to you, Mr. Gaston, or to any gen- 
 tleman present ; but I mean what I say. I shall stand by my 
 words ! " 
 
 " Come, youngster, none uv yer browbeatin' yere. It 
 woan't gwo down," cried a rough voice from among the audi- 
 ence. " I've come all th' way from Orleans ter buy thet gal ; 
 
 an' buy har I shill ! " 
 
 Quite a commotion followed this speech. It lasted some 
 
 minutes, and the speaker was the object of considerable atten- 
 tion. 
 
270 MY SOUTHERN Fill ENDS. 
 
 " He's some on th' trigger, ole feller," cried one. " He 
 kin hit a turkey's eye at two hundred paces, he kin," said an- 
 other. " He'll burn yer in'ards, shore," shouted a third. 
 " Ye'll speak fur warm lodgin's, ef ye bid on thet gal, ye 
 wull," cried a fourth. 
 
 " Come, my friends, ye karn't skeer me," coolly said the 
 first speaker, mounting one of the rough benches. " I've h'ard 
 sech talk afore. It doan't turn me a hair. I come yere ter 
 buy thet gal, an' buy har I shill, 'cept some on ye kin gwo 
 higher'n my pile ; an' my pile ar eighty-two hundred dollars ! ' 
 
 He was a tall, stoutly-built man, with bushy gray w r hiskers 
 and a clear, resolute eye. It was Larkin ! 
 
 Turning to Joe, I exclaimed : 
 
 " I understand this. Get the auctioneer to postpone the 
 sale for half an hour. Take Selly into the house." 
 
 " No. It mi edit as well be over first as last. Let him 
 bid — he's a dead man ! " replied Joe, coolly, but firmly. 
 
 " You're mad, boy. Would you take his life need- 
 lessly ? " 
 
 The auctioneer, who overheard these remarks, then said to 
 me : 
 
 "I will adjourn the sale, sir;" and, turning to the audi- 
 ence, he cried, drawing out his watch : " Gentlemen, it is 
 twelve o'clock. The sale is adjourned for an hour, to give you 
 a chance for dinner." 
 
 Joe led Selma away, and, springing from the block,- I 
 pressed through the crowd to where Larkin was standing. 
 
 " Larkin," I said, placing my hand on his arm, " come 
 with me." 
 
 " Who in h — ar ye ? " he asked, turning on me rather 
 roughly. 
 
THE NEGEO SALE. 271 
 
 " My name is Kirke. You ought to know me." 
 
 " Kirke I Why, ye ar ! I'm right down glad ter see ye, 
 Mr. Kirke," he exclaimed, seizing me warmly by the hand. 
 
 " Come with me : I want to talk with vou." 
 
 He sprang from the bench, and followed me into the man- 
 sion. 
 
 Entering the library, I locked the door. When he was 
 seated, I said : 
 
 " Now, Larkin, who do you want this girl for ? " 
 
 11 Wall, I swar ! Mr. Kirke, ye fire' right at th' bull's eve ! " 
 Then, hesitating a moment, he added : 
 
 " Fur myself." 
 
 " No, you don't ; you know that isn't true." 
 
 " Ha ! ha ! This ar th' second time yeVe told me I lied. 
 Nary other man ever done it twice, Mr. Kirke ; but I karn't 
 take no 'fence with ye, nohow — ha ! ha ! " 
 
 " Come, Larkin, don't waste time. Tell me squarely — 
 who do you want this girl for ? " 
 
 11 Wall, Mr. Kirke, I can't answer thet — not in honor." 
 
 " Shall / tell you ? " 
 
 " Yas, ef ye kin ! " 
 
 " John Hallet." 
 
 " Wall, I'm d — d ef ye doan't take th' papers. Who in 
 creashun told ve thet ? " 
 
 m 
 
 u No one ; I know it. Hallet's only son is engaged to this 
 girl. He wants her,- to balk him." 
 
 " Ye're wrong thar. He wants bar fur himself" 
 
 " For himself!" 
 
 " Yas ; he's got a couple now. He's a sly old fox ; but 
 he's one on 'em." 
 
272 MY SOUTHERN FP.IENDS. 
 
 11 Is lie willing to pay eighty -two hundred dollars for a mis- 
 tress ? " 
 
 <v Wall, Preston owes him a debt, an' he reckons 'tain't 
 wuth a hill o' beans. Thet'sth' amount uv it." 
 
 Thus the wrong of the father was to be atoned for by 
 the dishonor of the child ! Preston was right : the curse 
 which followed his sin had fallen on all he loved — : on his wife, 
 his mistress, the octoroon girl, his manly, noble son ; and 
 now, the cloud which held the thunderbolt was hovering over 
 the head of his best-loved child ! And so He visiteth " the 
 sins of the fathers upon the children ! " 
 
 " But he is wrong ! Preston's estate will pay its debts. 
 If it does not, Joe will make good the deficiency. I will 
 guarantee Hallet's claim. See him, and tell him so." 
 
 " He hain't yere, an' woan't be yere. He allers fights shy. 
 An' 'twouldn't be uv no use. He's made up his mind to hev 
 th' gal, an' hev liar he will. He's come all th' way from 
 Orleans ter make shore uv it." 
 
 " But, Larkin, you've a heart under your waistcoat ; you 
 won't lend yourself to the designs of such a consummate 
 scoundrel as Hallet ! " 
 
 " Scoundrel's a hard word, Mr. Kirke. 'Tain't used much 
 round yere ; when it ar, it draws blood like a lancet." 
 
 " I mean no offence to you, Larkin ; but it's true — I will 
 prove it ; " and I went on to detail my early acquaintance with 
 Hallet ; his vast profession and small performance of piety ; 
 his betrayal of Frank's mother ; his treatment of his son, and 
 all the damning record I have spread before the reader. 
 
 As I talked, Larkin rose, and walked the room, evidently 
 affected ; but, when I concluded, he said : 
 
THE NEGRO SALE. 273 
 
 u 'Tain't no use, Mr. Kirke ; I'd ruther ye wouldn't say no 
 more. It makes me feel like the cholera. An' 'tain't no use ! 
 I've got ter buy th' gal." 
 
 " You have not got to buy her ! You need only go away. 
 I will give you a thousand dollars, if you will go at once." 
 
 "No, no, Mr. Kirke; I karn't do it. I'd like ter 'blige 
 ye, and I need money like th' devil ; but I karn't leave 
 Hallet in th' lurch. 'Twouldn't be far dealin' 'tween man 
 an' man. He trusts me ter do it, an' I'm in with him. I 
 must act honest." 
 
 " How in with him ? " 
 
 u Why, he an' ole Roye ar tergether. The' find th' 
 money fur my bis'ness — done it fur fifteen yar. The' git th' 
 biggest sheer, but I karn't holp myself. I went inter cotton, 
 like a d — d fool, 'bout a yar ago, an' lost all I hed — every red 
 cent ; an' now I shud be on my beam ends ef it warn't fur 
 them." 
 
 11 Then Hallet has made his money dealing in negroes ! ' : 
 
 " Yas, a right smart pile, in thet, an' cotton. He got me 
 inter th' d — d staple. I hed nigh on ter sixty thousan' then 
 — hard rocks ; but I lost it all — every dollar — at one slap ; 
 though I reckon he managed, somehow, ter git out." 
 
 " Yes, of course he got out, and saddled the loss upon you. 
 Were you such a fool as not to see that ? " 
 
 " P'raps he did ; but he covered his trail. He's smart ; ye 
 karn't track him. But it makes no odds ; I hev ter keep in 
 with him. I couldn't do a thing, ef I didn't." 
 
 "Yes, you could. Come North. I'll give you honest 
 
 work to do." 
 
 " You're a gentleman, Mr. Kirke, an' I'm 'bliged ter ye ; 
 
 12* 
 
274 MY SOUTHERN FRIENDS. 
 
 but I karn't leave yere. I've got a wife an' chil'ren, an' the' 
 wouldn't live 'mong ye abolitionists, nohow." 
 
 u You have a wife and children ? " 
 
 11 Yas ; a wife, an' two as likely young 'uns as ye ever 
 seed — boy 'bout seven, an' gal 'bout twelve." 
 
 " Well, Larkin, suppose your little girl was upon that 
 auction block ; suppose some villain had hired me to aid in 
 debauching her ; suppose you, her father, should come to me 
 and plead with me not to do it ; suppose I should tell you 
 what you have told me, and then — should go out and buy your 
 child ; what would you do ? Would you not curse me with 
 your very last breath ? " 
 
 He seated himself, and huns; down his head, but made no 
 reply. 
 
 " Answer me, like the honest man you are." 
 
 " Wall, I reckon I shud." 
 
 " Selma is to marry my adopted son. She is as dear to me 
 as your child is to you. Can you do to her, what you would 
 curse me for doing to your child ? Look me in the face. 
 Don't flinch — answer me ! " 
 
 I rose, and stood before him. In a few moments he also 
 rose, and, looking me squarely in the eye — there was a tear in 
 his — he brought his hand down upon mine with a concussion 
 that might have been heard a mile off, and said : 
 
 " No, I'm d— d ter h— ef I kin." 
 
 " You are a splendid, noble fellow, Larkin." 
 
 " Ye're 'bout th' fust man thet ever said so, Mr. Kirke. 
 Ye told me sutliin' like thet nigh on ter twelve yar ago. I 
 hain't forgot it yit, an' I never shill." 
 
 " You're rough on the outside, Larkin, but sound at the 
 
THE NEGBO SALE. 275 
 
 core — sound as a nut. I wish the world had more like you. 
 Leave this wretched work ! " 
 
 " I'd like ter, but I karn't. What kin a feller do, with 
 neither money nor friends ? " 
 
 " Get into some honest business. I know you can. I'll 
 help you — Joe will help you. We'll talk things over to-night, 
 and I know Joe will rig out something for you." 
 
 He remained seated for a while, saying nothing ; then he 
 rose, and, the moisture dimming his eyes, said : 
 
 '' I reckon ye're not over pious, Mr. Kirke, an' I know 
 ye'd stand a hand at a rough an' tumble ; but d — d ef thet 
 hain't th' sort o' religion I like. Come, sir ; ef I stay yere, 
 ye' 11 make a 'ooman on me." 
 
 As we passed into the parlor, I said to Joe, who was 
 seated there with Selma : 
 
 " Give Larkin your hand, Joe ; he's a glorious fellow. " 
 
 " My heart is in it, Larkin," said the young man, very 
 cordially. "It would have come hard to draw a kead on 
 you." 
 
 " I knows it would, Joe, an' I wus ter blame ; but I never 
 could stand a bluff." 
 
 We passed out together to the auction stand. Selma and 
 her brother ascended the block, while Larkin and I mingled 
 with the buyers, who had collected in even larger numbers 
 than before. The auctioneer brought down his hammer : 
 
 11 Attention, gentlemen ! The sale has begun. I offer you 
 again the girl, Lucy Selma. You've h'ard the description, 
 and (glancing at Joe, and smiling) you know the conditions 
 of the sale. A thousand dollars is bid for the girl, Lucy 
 Selma ; do I hear any more ? Talk quick, gentlemen ; I 
 
270 MY SOUTHERN FRIENDS. 
 
 shan't dwell on this lot; so speak up, if you've anything to 
 say. One thousand once — one thousand twice — one thousand 
 third and last call. Do I hear any more ? " A pause of a 
 moment. " Last call, gentlemen. Going— g-o-i-n-g — go " 
 
 The word was unfinished ; the hammer was descending, 
 when a voice called out : 
 
 " Two thousand ! " 
 
 " Whose bid is that ? " cried Joe, striding across the 
 bench, the^ glare of a hyena in his eyes. 
 
 " Mine, sir ! " said the man, with a look of sudden sur- 
 prise. His face was shaded by a broad-brimmed Panama hat, 
 and his hair and whiskers were dyed, but there was no mis- 
 taking his large, eagle nose, his sharp, pointed chin, and his 
 rat-trap of a mouth. It was Hallet ! 
 
 Springing upon a bench near by, I cried out : 
 
 11 John Hallet, withdraw that bid, or your time has come ! 
 I warn you. You cannot leave this place alive ! " 
 
 He gave me a quick, startled look — the look of a thief 
 caught in the act — but said nothing. 
 
 " Who is he ? " cried a dozen voices. 
 
 " A Yankee nigger-trader ! A man that seduced and mur- 
 dered the woman who should have been his wife ; that cast 
 out and starved his own child, and now would debauch thi3 
 poor girl, who is to marry his only son ! " 
 
 11 Wall, he ar a han'some critter." " 'Bout like th* 
 Yankees gin'rally." " Clar him out ! " cried several voices. 
 
 " If you allow him to bid here, you are as bad as he," I 
 continued, unintentionally fanning the growing excitement. 
 
 « Wall, we woan't." « Pitch inter him ! " " Douse him 
 in th' pond ! " " Ride him on a rail ! " " Give him a coat 
 
THE NEGRO SALE. 2V7 
 
 uv tar ! " and a hundred similar exclamations rose from the 
 crowd, which swayed toward the obnoxious man with a quick, 
 tumultuous motion. 
 
 " He'm in de darky trade ; leff de darkies handle him ! " 
 cried Ally, seizing Hallet by the collar, and dragging him 
 toward the pond. 
 
 The face of the great merchant turned ghastly pale. 
 Paralyzed with fear, he made no resistance. 
 
 Pressing rapidly through the crowd, and tossing Ally aside 
 as if he had been a bundle of feathers, Larkin was at Hallet's 
 side in an instant. Planting himself before him, and drawing 
 his revolver, he cried out : 
 
 ** Far pla}^, gintlemen, far play. He's a cowardly scoun- 
 drel, but he shill hev far play, or my name hain't Jake 
 Larkin ! " 
 
 Instinctively the crowd fell back a few paces, and Larkin, 
 with more coolness, continued : 
 
 " TV only man yere thet's got ary thing ter say in this 
 
 bis'ness ar Joe Preston ; an' he'll guv even a Yankee far play. 
 
 Woan't ye, Joe ? " he cried. Then, turning quickly to his 
 
 . partner, he added': "Ye didn't know th' kunditions, Mr. 
 
 Hallet, did ye ? Speak quick." 
 
 "No — I — didn't know I was — giving offence," stammered 
 Hallet, looking in ; the direction in which Larkin's eyes were 
 turned. 
 
 Selma had taken the auctioneer's chair, and Joe stood, with 
 folded arms, glaring on Hallet. 
 
 "Come, Joe," continued Larkin, "I've done ye a good 
 turn ter-day. Let him off, an' put it ter my 'count." 
 
 " As you say, Larkin ; but he must withdraw his bid, and 
 leave the ground at once." 
 
278 MY SOUTHERN FRIENDS. 
 
 "I withdraw it, sir," said Hallet, in a cringing tone, cling- 
 ing fast to the negro trader. 
 
 " Doan't hold on so tight, Mr. Hallet. Lord bless ye 1 
 nary one yere'll hurt ye ; they'm gentler'n lambs — ha ! ha ! 
 But when ye want anuther gal, doan't ye come yere fur yer 
 darter-in-law — ha ! ha ! " 
 
 Putting his arm within Hallet's, he then attempted to press 
 through the crowd ; but the blood- of the chivalry had risen, 
 and, spite of Joe's remarks, they showed no inclination to let 
 the Yankee off so cheaply. Forming a solid wall around him, 
 they blocked Larkin's way at every turn, and cries of " Let 
 him alone, Larkin ! " " Cool him off, boys ! " " Doan't ye 
 spile th' fun, Larkin ! " " Guv th' feller a little hosspitaplity ! " 
 echoed from all directions. 
 
 » 
 
 Putting up his revolver, Larkin turned to them, and said, 
 in the mildest and blandest tone conceivable : 
 
 " Thet's right, boys — ye orter hev some fun ; but this gin- 
 tleman's sick. Doan't ye see how pale he ar ? He couldn't 
 stand it, nohow. But thar's a feller thet kin," pointing to 
 Mulock, who stood looking on, at the outer edge of the crowd. 
 " Ef ye're spilin' fur sport, ye moight try yer hand on him ! " ^ 
 
 11 Yas, he'm de man ! " cried Ally. " He holped whip de 
 young missus. He telled on har fur twenty dollar. He'm de 
 man ! " 
 
 Mulock did not seem to realize, at once, that he was the 
 subject of these remarks. The moment he did, he sprang out 
 of the crowd, and darted off for the woods at the top of his 
 speed. A hundred men followed him, with cries of " Mount, 
 head him off! " " Five dollars ter th' man thet kotches him 1 " 
 " Take him, dead or alive I " 
 
THE NEGRO SALE. 279 
 
 Amid the universal excitement and confusion that fol- 
 lowed, Larkin walked rapidly away with Hallet. 
 
 . " You can heat the kettle, boys ; Mulock can't run," cried 
 Joe, from the platform. "But you must give him a fair 
 trial." 
 
 " We'll do thet, never ye fear ! " echoed a dozen voices. 
 
 " I nominate his friend, Mr. Gaston, for judge," said Joe. 
 
 " Gaston it is ! Gaston it is ! " " Mount the bench, Mr. 
 Gaston ! " shouted a hundred u natives." 
 
 Gaston got upon the auction stand, and said : 
 
 " I'll serve, gentlemen ; but, before we select jurors, the 
 sale must go on. Miss Preston is not sold yet." 
 
 " All right ! all right ! Hurry up, Mr. Hammerman ! " 
 shouted the crowd. 
 
 The auctioneer took his place : 
 v " A thousand dollars is bid for this young lady. Going — 
 going — gone, to Mr. Joseph Preston. 
 
 Selma put her arms about Joe's neck, and, in broken tones, 
 said : " My brother ! my dear brother ! " Then she laid her 
 head on his shoulder, and wept — wept unrestrainedly. 
 * Who can fathom the untold misery she had endured within 
 those two hours ! 
 
CHAPTEE XXVII. 
 
 THE LYNCHING. 
 
 The impromptu judge took his seat on the bench, and 
 the excited multitude once more subsided into quiet. In 
 about fifteen minutes a tumult arose in a remote quarter of 
 the ground, and Mulock and his pursuers appeared in sight, 
 shouting, screaming, and swearing in a decidedly boisterous 
 manner. The most of the profanity — to the credit of the self- 
 appointed posse comitatus be it said — was indulged in by the 
 ex-overseer, who, with his clothes torn in shreds, and his face 
 covered with blood, looked like the battered relic of a forty 
 years' war. A red bandanna pinioned his arms to his sides, 
 and a strong man at each elbow spurred his flagging footsteps 
 by an occasional poke with a pine branch. Ally followed at a 
 few paces, looking about as dilapidated as the culprit himself. 
 To him evidently belonged the glory of the capture. 
 
 As they approached the stand, Gaston rose, and called out : 
 
 " Do not insult justice, by bringing the prisoner into court 
 in this condition. Let his face be washed, his garments 
 changed, and his wounds bound up, before he appears for trial. 
 Dr. Rawson, I commission you special officer for the duty." 
 
 11 I'm at your service, Major Gaston," said the doctor, step- 
 ping out from the crowd into the open semicircle in front of 
 
THE LYNCHING. 281 
 
 the bench. " Will some one procure the loan of a coat, hat, 
 and trousers at the mansion ? " 
 
 Ally started for the needed clothing, and the physician 
 led the way to the small lake. In about twenty minutes the 
 volunteer officials returned with the criminal, clothed in a more 
 respectable manner, and Gaston said to him : 
 
 " Prisoner, take your place." 
 
 Resistance was useless, and Muloek, with a slow step, and 
 a sullen, dogged air, ascended the platform, and seated himself 
 in the chair provided for him at its further extremity. Gaston 
 sat at the other end, facing him ; and four brawny u natives," 
 with revolvers in their hands, took positions by his side. 
 
 " Silence in the court ! " cried Gaston. 
 
 The noisy multitude became quiet, and the extempore 
 official proceeded — with greater solemnity than many another 
 judge of more regular appointment exhibits on similar occa- 
 sions — to say : 
 
 " Prisoner, you are charged with two of the highest 
 offences known to our laws ; namely, with aiding and abetting 
 an illegal and cruel assault on a white woman, and with pro- 
 curing and inciting the murder of your own wife. You are 
 about to be tried for these crimes by a jury of your country- 
 men ; and I am appointed judge, that full and impartial justice 
 may be done you. It shall be done. Counsel will be awarded 
 you; and, that you may not be condemned by prejudiced 
 men, you will be given the privilege of peremptory challenge 
 against four out of every five of the jurors- 1 shall nominate. 
 I shall now proceed to name the jury, and you will signify 
 your objection to those you do not approve. Thomas Mur- 
 chison." 
 
282 MY SOUTHERN FRIENDS. 
 
 That gentleman came forward, and Mulock said : 
 
 " I take him." 
 
 11 Godfrey Banks." 
 
 " He's inimy ter me." 
 
 The man stepped aside ; and thus they proceeded, the 
 prisoner taking fall advantage of the liberty of choice allowed 
 him, until, out of a panel of nearly sixty, twelve respectable, 
 yeomanly-looking men had been selected. As each juror was 
 approved of by the crowd (who had the final decision), he 
 took a seat on a row of benches facing the " judge " and the 
 prisoner. When the last one had taken his place, Gaston 
 said : 
 
 " Prisoner, you have heard the charges against you ; are 
 you guilty, or not guilty ? If you think proper to ac- 
 knowledge your guilt of either or both the crimes with 
 which you are charged, I shall feel it my duty to award you a 
 lighter punishment." 
 
 "*I hain't guilty uv 'ary one on 'em," said Mulock, without 
 looking up. 
 
 " What legal gentleman will appear for the people ? ' 
 cried Gaston, turning to the audience. Several sprigs of the 
 law shot out from the multitude. " I accept you, Mr. Flan- 
 ders. "Who will act for the prisoner ? " 
 
 Each one of the volunteers fell back, and no response 
 came from any part of the ground. Mulock evidently was 
 neither blessed nor cursed with many friends. 
 
 " Does no one-appear for the prisoner ? . Gentlemen of the 
 legal profession, I am sorry to see this reluctance to aid a 
 defenceless man. "Will not some one oblige me, by volunteer- 
 ing ? I shall consider it a personal service," said Gaston. 
 
THE LYNCHING. 283 
 
 Still no response was heard. At least five minutes passed, 
 and the "judge's" face was assuming a look of painful con- 
 cern, when Larkin approached the bench. 
 
 " Gintlenien," he said, " th' man hain't no friends, an' it's 
 a d — d shame not ter come out fur a feller as stands alone. 
 Ef I knowed lor, I'd go in far him, ef he wus th' devil him- 
 self." 
 
 No one came forward in answer to even this appeal ; and, 
 turning on the crowd, while warm, manly scorn glowed on his 
 every feature, the negro-trader cried out : 
 
 " Ye're a set uv d — d sneakin' hounds, every one on ye. 
 Ye're wuss than th' parsons, an' the' hain't fit ter tote vittles 
 ter a bar." Turning to the "judge," he added, in a more 
 respectful tone : " I doan't know th' fust thing 'bout lor, 
 Major Gaston, an' this man's nigh as mean a cuss as th' Lord 
 ever made ; but ef ye'll 'cept me, I'll go in fur him ! ' 
 
 " I will accept you, with pleasure. You're doing a gentle- 
 manly thing, Mr. Larkin." 
 
 A murmur of applause went round the assemblage, as Lar- 
 kin and the other counsel took seats near the jury. 
 
 The "judge " then rose, and said : 
 
 " Gentlemen of the Jurv : You have engaged in a solemn 
 office. You are about to try a fellow being for his life. It is 
 a painful duty, but it is an obligation you owe to the commu- 
 nity, and to yourselves, and you will not shrink from it. 
 Society is held together by laws made to protect the innocent 
 and punish the guilty. But, as our society is organized, there 
 are some offences which our tribunals cannot reach. In such 
 cases the people, from whom all laws proceed, have a right to 
 take the law into their own hands. 
 
284 MY SOUTHERN FRIENDS. 
 
 u The prisoner is charged with crimes which, from the cir- 
 cumstances surrounding their commission, cannot be reached 
 by regular courts of justice. They -were witnessed by none 
 but blacks, whose testimony, by our statutes, is not admissible. 
 We, the people, therefore, are to try him ; and, to get at the 
 facts, we shall receive the evidence of negroes. You will 
 judge for yourselves as to its credibility. If any doubt of 
 the prisoner's guilt rests in your minds, you will give him the 
 benefit of it, and acquit him ; but if, on the other hand, you are 
 fully persuaded that he committed either or both the crimes of 
 which he is accused, you will convict him. You will patiently 
 hear the testimony that may be presented ; / will honestly 
 and impartially give sentence, according to the decision at 
 which you may arrive. The trial will now proceed." 
 
 The witnesses were then examined. Ally was the first 
 one sworn. He deposed to the circumstances attending the 
 whipping of Phyllis, and the assault on Selma ; but, as his 
 evidence was altogether hearsay — he not being present on 
 either occasion — it was ruled out, as was also his account of 
 the bribing of Mulock by the mistress. 
 
 Three other negroes were then called, and they proved that 
 Mulock aided in dragging Selma to the whipping rack, and 
 witnessed the beating ; but they failed to show that he w T as 
 privy to or participated in the assault on his wife. Others 
 were examined, who saw parts of the two transactions, and 
 then the testimony closed. 
 
 As the last witness left the stand, Gaston said : 
 
 " I shall allow the prisoner the benefit of the final appeal. 
 The attorney for the people will now address the jury." 
 
 The lawyer, a young man of no especial brilliancy or 
 
THE LYNCHING. 285 
 
 ability, rose, and, going rapidly over the testimony, drew the 
 conclusion from it that Mulock had instigated the beating of 
 both mother and daughter, and was therefore guilty of the 
 assault and the murder, and should accordingly be punished 
 with death. 
 
 The motive actuating him he held to be revenue on Pres- 
 ton, for having, long previously, debauched his wife Phyllis. 
 This passion, held in check during Preston's lifetime by fear 
 of the consequences which might follow its indulgence, had 
 broken out after his death, and wreaked itself on the two 
 defenceless women. 
 
 The gentleman's reasoning was not very cogent, but, what 
 he lacked in logic, he made up in bitter denunciation of Mu- 
 lock, who, according to his showing, was a little blacker than 
 the prime minister of the lower regions. 
 
 As he took his seat, Larkin rose, and, addressing himself 
 to both the jury and the multitude, spoke, as near as I can 
 recollect, as follows : 
 
 " G-intlemen, this yere sort o' bis'ness is out uv my line. 
 I'm not used ter speechifyin', an' I may murder whot's called 
 good English ; but I'd a durned sight ruther murder thet, then 
 ter joodiciously, or ary other how, murder a human bein' ; an' 
 it's my private 'pinion ye! II murder Mulock, ef ye bring him 
 in guilty uv death. 
 
 " A man hain't no right ter take human life, 'cept in self- 
 defence. Even ef Mulock wus so bad as this lorver feller 
 tries ter make him out — but he hain't, 'cause 'tain't in natur 
 for a man ter be wuss than th' devil himself — ye'd hev no 
 right ter stop his breath. Ye didn't guv it ter him ; it doan't 
 b'long ter ye, an* th' lor doan't 'low ye ter take what hain't 
 
2^8 MY SOUTHERN F R I E X D S . 
 
 your'n. Ef ye does, it's stealin', ' an' I knows thet none on 
 the gintlemen uv the jury ar so allfired mean as ter steal — 
 'ticularly ter steal ay hot woan't be uv no sort o' use ter 'em, 
 nohow. 
 
 " The loryer yere, hes spread hisself on Mulock's motive 
 fur doin' this thing ; 'sistin' thet fur seventeen yar he's ben a 
 nussin' suthin — nussin' it as keer fully as a mother nusses her 
 chil'ren. Now, young 'uns gin'rally walks when they's 'bout 
 a yar old ; but this one thet Mulock's ben a nussin' didn't git 
 'round till it wus seventeen ; an' I reckon a bantlin' thet karn't 
 gwo alone afore it's thet age, woan't never do much hurt ter 
 nobody. 
 
 " But these hain't th' raal p'ints uv th' case. I'm loryer 
 'nufF ter tell ye, ye must gwo on th' evidence ; an' thar hain't 
 no evidence ter show thet Mulock hed ary thing ter do with 
 th' whippin' uv his wife ; an' th' murder wus in thet. He 
 did — so th' nigs say, an' I reckon the' tells th' truth ; an' 
 thet's whot nary loryer kin do, ef he try ; so ye sees, a nig is 
 smarter nor a loryer. Wall, the nigs say he holped in whip- 
 pin' th' white 'ooman ; an', as 'torney fur th' truth, gintle- 
 men, which I'm gwine in fur yere, I've got ter 'low it. He 
 did aid an' 'bet, as the loryers call it, in thet, an' thet proves 
 him 'bout as mean as a white man ever gits ter be ; an', 'sides 
 thet, he did sell har fur twenty dollars — a 'ooman thet even 
 th' 'judge' — an' he ar a judge uv sech things — wus willin' 
 ter pay twenty -five hun'red fur ; he did sell har fur twenty 
 dollars ; an' thet proves him a fool ! Now, fur bein' both 
 mean an' a fool, I 'low he orter be punished. But doan't ye kill 
 him, gintlemen ! Guv it ter him 'cordin' ter his natur an' his 
 merits. Just luk at him. Hev ye ever seed sech a face, an' 
 
THE LYNCHISG. 287 
 
 sech an eye as thet, in ary human bein' ? Why, his eye ar 
 jest like a snake's ; an' it's nat'ral, ye knows, fur snakes ter 
 crawl ; the' karn't do nuthin' else, an' the' hain't ter blame 
 fur it. No more ye karn't blame Mulock fur bein' whot he 
 ar. So guv him a coat uv tar — a ride on a rail — a duckin' in 
 th' pond — arything thet's 'cordin' ter his natur an' his merits ; 
 but doan't ye take 'way his life I Ef ye does thet, he's lost — 
 lost furever ; fur, I swar ter ye, his soul ar so small, thet ef 
 it wus once out uv his body, th' Lord himself couldn't find 
 it, an' th' pore feller'd hev ter gwo wand'rin' 'round with 
 nary whar ter stay, an' nary friends, aither in heaven or 
 t'other place ! So be easy with him, gintlemen. " Guv him 
 one more chance. Let him stay yere a spell longer, fur yere 
 his soul may grow. An' it kin grow ! Everything in natur 
 grows — even skunks ; an' who knows but Mulock may sprout 
 out yit, an' grow ter be a man ! 
 
 " I'se nuthin' more ter say, gintlemen, only this : Afore 
 ye make up yer minds ter bring Mulock in guilty uv death, 
 jest put yerselfs inter his place, an' ax yerselfs ef ye\l like 
 ter hev a rope put 'round yer windpipe,, as ye'd put it 'round 
 his'n ! Ef ye wudn't, jest remember, 'tain't manly ter use 
 ary nother man in a how ye wudn't like ter be used yerselfs. 
 I'm done." 
 
 Larkin was frequently interrupted, during the delivery of 
 this address, by the loud shouts and laughter of the crowd ; 
 but, at its close, a perfect tornado of applause swept over the 
 multitude, and a hundred voices called out : 
 
 " No ; doan't ye hang him." " Give him one more 
 chance." " Doan't gwo more'n the tar." " Larkin's a lor- 
 yer, shore." 
 
283 MY SOUTHERN FRIENDS. 
 
 Amid these and similar exclamations, the jury retired to 
 the little grove of liveoaks. In about fifteen minutes they 
 returned to their seats. 
 
 " Gentlemen of the jury," said Gaston, " have you agreed 
 on your verdict ? " 
 
 " 'Greed on one thing, Major Gaston," said the foreman, 
 rising ; " hain't on t'other." 
 
 11 On what have you agreed ? " 
 
 " On whippin' th' young 'ooman." 
 
 i 
 
 11 What say you on that — guilty, or not guilty ? n 
 
 " Guilty." 
 
 " And so say you all ? " 
 
 " Yas, Major." 
 
 11 How do you stand on the other charge ? " 
 
 " Four gwo in fur guilty ; th' rest on us think Jake Larkin 
 'bout right as ter hansrin' on him." 
 
 u It is not for Mr. Larkin, or you, to say what shall be 
 done with the prisoner. You are to decide whether he is or 
 is not guilty of instigating the murder of his wife. You must 
 retire again, until you agree upon that." 
 
 ** 'T wouldn't be uv no use, Major. We reckon he's mean 
 'miff ter hev done it ; but whether he done it, or no, we gwo 
 fur irivin' him a chance ter live." 
 
 " Ye're white men, I swar ! " cried Larkin, springing 
 from his seat, and grasping the hands of several of the jurors 
 in turn. 
 
 " Take your seat, and observe order, Mr. Larkin," said the 
 judge, smiling in spite of himself. 
 
 11 All right," said Larkin ; u ye're some as a judge, Major — 
 'bout up ter me as a loryer, an' thet's sayin' a heap ; so jest 
 be easy on th' pore devil. Do, yer Honor I " 
 
THE LYNCHING. 289 
 
 " Silence, sir ! " said Gaston, laughing. 
 Larkin took his seat, and the "judge " continued : 
 "Prisoner, you have heard the verdict. Have you any- 
 thing to say why sentence for aiding in the assault on the 
 white lady should not now be passed upon you ? " 
 
 "No, Major Gaston; I've nothin' ter say," said Mulock, 
 dejectedly. 
 
 Gaston continued : " You have been tried by a jury of 
 your own selection. They are unanimous in pronouncing you 
 guilty of a cowardly and unwarrantable assault on a white 
 woman. They evidently deem you guilty of the worse crime 
 of abetting the murder of your own wife, and humane feelings 
 only deter them from saying so. In these circumstances, I 
 feel it my duty to award you a more severe punishment than 
 I should have done had you been fully acquitted of the last 
 charge. I shall therefore sentence you to be coated with 
 warm tar, ducked, in that condition, three times in the pond, 
 and then ridden on a rail to your shop at Trenton ; and may 
 this example of public indignation lead you to a better life 
 in future. Mr. Larkin, I commission you to superintend the 
 execution of the sentence." 
 
 "No, ye doan't, Major — yer Honor, I mean! I'lL stand 
 by, an' see Mulock hes far play ; but I woan't do nary one's 
 dirty work, I swar." 
 
 "Well, who will volunteer for the duty?" said Gaston, 
 appealing to the audience. 
 
 About a score of " natives " offered themselves ; but, fix- 
 ing his eye on a stout, goodnatured-looking man, who had not 
 volunteered, Gaston said : 
 
 " Won't you do it, Mr. Moore ? " 
 13 
 
290 MY SOUTHERN FRIENDS. 
 
 " Yas, ter 'blige ye, Major, I will," replied the man. 
 
 The "judge" then pronounced the court adjourned, and 
 the crowd escorted Mulock and the impromptu executioners to 
 the site of the old distilleries. There an iron kettle filled with 
 tar was already simmering over a light-wood fire, and, being 
 divested of his borrowed plumage, Mulock was soon clad in a 
 close-fitting suit of black. He was about to be led to the 
 pond, when Ally appeared on the ground. Making his way 
 through the crowd, he called out : 
 
 " De young missus doan't want dis ting to gwo no fudder. 
 She'll 'sider it a 'tic'lar favor ef de gemmen'll leff Mulock 
 gwo." 
 
 " We karn't let him off without consent uv the judge," 
 said Mr. Moore. 
 
 A messenger was sent for Gaston, who soon appeared, and 
 consented that further proceedings should be stopped. Mulock 
 was at once released, and, coatless, hatless, and all but trouser- 
 less, he made his way through the hooting multitude, and left 
 the plantation, a blacker, if not a wiser and a better man. 
 
 As we walked away from the " scene of execution," I said 
 to the negro-trader : 
 
 " Larkin, you should have been a lawyer; you managed 
 that thing admirably." 
 
 " Th' boys hed got thar blood up, an' I know'd I couldn't 
 clar him. A man stands a sorry chance in sech a crowd, ef 
 they's raally bent on mischief." 
 
 On the following morning the remainder of the negroes 
 w r ere purchased by Joe ; and in the afternoon I was on my 
 way home. 
 
CHAPTEE XXVIII. 
 
 " DEAD ! DEAD ! " 
 
 As I was sitting in my library, late one evening, rather 
 more than a month after the events recorded in the last chap- 
 ter, a hasty ring came at the street door. 
 
 " Who can be calling so late ? " said Kate. " Had you 
 not better go ? " 
 
 Drawing on my boots, I went to the door. As I opened 
 it, my hand was suddenly seized, and a familiar voice ex- 
 claimed : 
 
 " What about Selly ? How is she ? " 
 
 " Lord bless you, Frank ! is this you ? How did you get 
 here ? " 
 
 " How is Selma ? Tell me ! " 
 
 H Safe and well — in Mobile, with Joe." 
 
 " Thank God ! thank God for that ! " 
 
 " How did you get here ? " 
 
 " By the Africa ; she's below, I managed to get up by a 
 small boat. I couldnH wait." 
 
 " Well, go up stairs, Your mother is in the library." 
 
 After the first greeting had passed between Kate and the 
 newcomer, he plied me with questions in regard to Selma. I 
 told him all, keeping nothing back. Meanwhile, he walked 
 the room, struggling with contending emotions — now joy, now 
 
292 MY SOUTHERN FRIENDS. 
 
 rage, now grief. He said nothing till I mentioned Hallet's 
 connection with the affair ; then he spoke, and his words came 
 like the rushing of the tornado when it mows down the trees. 
 
 u That is the one thing too much. I have held back till 
 now. Now he dies I " 
 
 u Don't say that, my son ! " exclaimed Kate. u Leave 
 him to his conscience, and to God. ' Vengeance is mine, I 
 will repay, saith the Lord ! ' " 
 
 " Vengeance is mine ! Don't talk to me, mother ! I 
 want no sermons now ! " 
 
 She looked at him sadly through her tears, and said : 
 
 " Have I deserved this of you, Frank ? " 
 
 " Forgive me ! forgive me, my mother ! " and he buried 
 his face in her dress, and wept — wept as he never did when a 
 child. 
 
 A half hour passed, and no one spoke. Then he rose, and 
 said to me : 
 
 " When did you hear from her last ? " 
 
 " I had a letter yesterday ; here it is," said Kate. u You 
 see, she is expecting you." 
 
 He took it, and read it over slowly. All trace of his 
 recent emotion had gone, and on his face was an expression I 
 had never seen there before. For the first time I noticed his 
 resemblance to his father ! 
 
 " "When will you go ? " continued Kate. 
 
 " I don't know. I cannot, now" 
 ■ " Why not now ? What is there to prevent ? " 
 
 " I must go home' first. I must see Cragin." 
 
 " Cragin does not expect you for a fortnight," I said ; 
 " you can be back by that time." 
 
"dead! dead!" 293 
 
 " But I cannot go now ! " and again he rose, and walked 
 the room. " I'm not ready yet. My mind isn't made up." 
 After a pause, he added : " "Would you have me marry a 
 slave — a woman of negro blood ? " 
 
 11 1 would have you do as your feelings and your conscience 
 dictate." 
 
 " You cannot love her, if you ask that question," said 
 Kate, kindly, but sorowfully. 
 
 " I do love her. I love her better than man ever loved 
 woman ; but can I make her my wife ? A negro wife ! negro 
 children ! — ha ! ha ! " and he clasped his hands above his 
 head, and laughed that bitter, hollow laugh, which is the sure 
 echo of fearful misery within. 
 
 "I cannot advise you, my son. You must act, now, on 
 your own judgment. I will only say, that through it all — 
 when put at slave work — when bound to the whipping stake — 
 when she stood on the auction block for two long hours — she 
 was sustained only by trust in you. It is true — she told me 
 so ; and if you forsake her now, it will " 
 
 " Kill her ! I know it ! I know it, my God ! my 
 
 God ! " and he groaned in agony — such agony as I never 
 
 ' before saw rend the spirit of mortal man. 
 
 ****** 
 
 The next morning 'he started for Mobile. Ten days after- 
 ward, the following telegram was handed me : 
 
 11 Selma is dead. Frank is here, raving crazy. Come on 
 at once. ■ Preston." 
 
 That night I was on my way, and that day week I reached 
 
294 MY SOUTHERN FRIENDS 
 
 Mobile. The first person I met, as I entered Joe's warehouse, 
 was Larkin. 
 
 " Where is Joe ? " 
 
 "Ter th' plantation. He's lookin' fur ye. I'll tote ye 
 thar ter onst." 
 
 'In half an hour we were on the road. "We arrived just 
 before dark, and at once I entered the mansion. Joe's hand 
 was in mine in a moment. 
 
 " What caused this terrible thing ? " I asked, hastily, 
 eagerly. 
 
 11 1 don't know. When he arrived, Frank was low-spirited 
 and moody, but very glad to see me. I brought him up here 
 at once. He seemed overjoyed at meeting Selma, and would 
 net let her go out of his sight for a moment. Still he 
 appeared excited and uneasy, till I met him at the supper 
 table. Then he was more like himself. I went with them 
 into the parlor, and there conversed with Frank on business 
 matters for fully two hours. We planned some shipments to 
 Europe, and talked over sending Larkin to Texas to buy cattle 
 for the New Orleans market. We agreed on it. I was to 
 provide means, by keeping ninety-day drafts afloat on them 
 (I'm short, just now, having paid out so much for the negroes), 
 and they and I were to divide the profits with Larkin. 
 Frank's head was as clear as a bell. I had no idea he was so 
 good a business man. Well, about eight o'clock I left them 
 together, and, a little after nine, went to bed. Selma's room 
 is next to mine, and it couldn't have been later than eleven 
 when I heard her go to it. 
 
 " The next morning she didn't come down as usual. I had 
 a servant call her. She made no reply ; but I thought noth- 
 
« 
 
 dead! dead!" 295 
 
 ing of it, till half an hour afterward. Then I went up myself. 
 I rapped repeatedly, but got no answer. Becoming alarmed, 
 I sent a servant for an axe. Frank brought it up, and I bat- 
 tered down the door, and found her lying on the bed, dressed 
 as usual, a half-empty bottle of laudanum beside her — dead ! " 
 
 " My God ! And Frank made her do it ! " 
 
 " Don't say that. If he did, he is fearfully punished ; he 
 has suffered terribly." 
 
 " Where is he ? " 
 
 " In the front room. He has raved incessantly. At first 
 four men couldn't hold him. Somehow, he got a knife, and 
 cut himself badly. I got it away, but he threw me in the 
 struggle, and nearly throttled me. He's calmer now, and I've 
 had him untied ; but old Joe has to stay with him night and 
 day. Nobody else can manage him." 
 
 TVe went into the room. Frank sat in one corner, pale, 
 haggard, only the shadow of what he was but ten days before. 
 His head was leaning against the wall, and he was gazing out 
 of the window. 
 
 As I entered, " Boss Joe " came forward and greeted me, 
 but neither of us spoke. Approaching Frank, I laid my hand 
 on his shoulder. 
 
 " My boy, I have come for you." 
 
 He rose, and looked at me, a wild glare in his eyes. 
 
 " Well, it's high time ; I've waited long enough. I'm 
 ready. I don't deny it — I killed her. Make short work of it. 
 I'd have saved you the trouble, but this infernal nigger told 
 me I'd go to hell if I did it ; and I know she isn't there. I 
 want to see her again ! I want her to forgive me — to forgive 
 me ! Oh ! oh ! " and he sank into his chair, and moaned 
 piteously. 
 
296 MY SOUTHERN FRIENDS. 
 
 " He tinks you'm de sheriff, massa Kirke," whispered Joe. 
 
 I leaned over him. The tears started from my eyes, and 
 fell on his face, as I said : 
 
 u You will see her again. She does pity and forgive you." 
 He sprang from his seat, and clutched my hands. " Do 
 you believe it ? Joe says so ; but Joe is a nigger — and what 
 does a nigger know ? " Then, putting his mouth close to my 
 ear, he added : " They told me she was one. It was false — 
 false as hell ; but " — and he threw his arms above his head, 
 and groaned the rest — " but it made me say it. my God ! 
 my God ! it made me say it ! " His head sank on my shoul* 
 der, and again he gave out those piteous moans. 
 
 II Have comfort, my boy. I know she loves and pities you 
 now I " 
 
 He looked up. " Say that again ! For the love of God 
 say that again ! " 
 
 11 It is so I As sure as there's another life, it is so ! " 
 
 He gazed at me fixedly for a few moments — then again 
 commenced pacing the room. 
 
 " I wish I could believe it. But you ought to know ; you 
 look like a parson. You are a parson, aren't you ? " 
 
 " Yes ; I'm a parson. I know it is so ! " 
 
 " Well, tell them to hurry up. I want to go to her at 
 once — now ! I can't live another week in this way. Tell 
 them to hurry up." 
 
 " Yes, I will ; and you'll go with me to-morrow, won't 
 you ? " 
 
 He gave me, again, a long, scrutinizing look. M You're 
 the sheriff, aren't you ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
"dead! dead!" 297 
 
 u Well, then, I'll go with you. But you must promise to 
 make short work of it." 
 
 " Yes, yes ; I'll promise that. But lie down, now, and be 
 quiet. I'll be ready for you in the morning." 
 
 " Well, well, I'll try to be patient ; " and he threw him- 
 self on the small cot in one corner of the room. " But you'll 
 let old Joe stay with me, won't you ? " 
 
 " Yes ; certainly." 
 
 "Thank you, sir. Joe, bring me a cigar — that's a good 
 fellow. You're the decentest nigger I ever knew. It's an 
 awful pity you're black. They told me she was black. - 'Twas 
 an infernal lie ! I know it, for I saw her last night, and she 
 was whiter than any woman you ever saw. Black ! Pshaw I 
 nobody but the devil's black ; and she — she's an angel now ! " 
 
 As we passed out of the room, Joe said to me : 
 
 " Would you like to see Selma ? " 
 
 " Have you kept her ? " 
 
 " Yes ; I knew you would want to see her." 
 
 He led the way up stairs to her chamber. In a plain, air- 
 tight coffin, lay all that was left of the slave girl. Her hands 
 were crossed on her bosom ; her long, glossy, brown hair fell 
 over her neck, and on her face was the look the angels wear. 
 She seemed not dead, but sleeping ! 
 
 As I turned away, Joe took my hand, and, while a nervous 
 spasm passed over his face, he said : 
 
 " She was all that I had ; but I — I forgive him ! " 
 
 " And for that, God will forgive you ! " 
 The next day we buried her. 
 
 ****** 
 
 " Boss Joe " accompanied us to the North. We reached 
 
298 MY SOUTHERN FRIENDS. 
 
 home just after dark. When we entered the parlor, Frank 
 gazed around with an eager, curious look, as if some familiar 
 scene was returning to him. In a few moments Kate en- 
 tered. She rushed to him, and clasped him in her arms. He 
 took her face between his two hands, and looked long and 
 earnestly at her. Then, dropping his head on her shoulder, 
 and bursting into tears, he cried : 
 
 11 My mother ! O my mother ! " 
 
 He had awoke. The terrible dream was over. From that 
 moment he was himself. 
 
 What passed between him and Selma on that fatal even- 
 ing, I never knew. He has not spoken her name since that 
 night. 
 
CHAPTEE XXIX 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 Mrs. Dawsey lay at the mansion, under guard, for sev- 
 eral weeks. "When finally able to be moved, she was con- 
 veyed to the " furnished apartments " bespoken for her by 
 Joe. Her husband, after a short confinement in jail, was set 
 at liberty, and then made strenuous efforts to effect his wife's 
 release on bail. He did not succeed. Public feeling ran very 
 high against her ; and that, probably more than the fact that 
 she was charged with an unbailable crime, operated to prolong 
 her residence at the public boarding house kept for runaway 
 slaves and common felons at Trenton. 
 
 At the next session of the " county court," after an im- 
 prisonment of four months, she was arraigned for trial. Owing 
 to the death of Selma, Mulock was the only white witness 
 against her. He told a straightforward story, the most rigid 
 cross-examination not swerving him from it, and deposed to 
 Dawsey's having attempted to bribe him to go away. His 
 evidence was conclusive as to the prisoner's guilt ; but hor 
 counsel, an able man, made so damaging an assault on his per- 
 sonal character, that the jury disagreed. Mrs. Dawsey was 
 then remanded to jail to await a new trial, at the next sitting 
 of the court. 
 
oOO MY SOUTHERN FRIENDS. 
 
 Shortly after the trial, Mulock suddenly disappeared, 
 Hearing of it, and suspecting he had been spirited away by 
 Dawsey, Joseph Preston went to Trenton, and, procuring a 
 judge's order for Mulock's arrest as an absconding witness, 
 caused a thorough search to be made for him in Jones and the 
 adjoining counties. He himself visited Chalk Level, in Har- 
 nett County, and there found him, living again with his white 
 wife. That lady had previously won and lost a second spouse, 
 but, it appeared, was then in such straits for another husband, 
 that she was willing to take up with her own cast-off house- 
 hold furniture. Whether a new marriage ceremony was per- 
 formed, or not, I never learned ; but I have been reliably 
 informed that Mulock complained bitterly of his wife for 
 having defrauded him of twenty-five of the fifty dollars she 
 had agreed to pay as consideration for his again sharing her 
 ° bed and board." 
 
 Mulock admitted having received four .hundred dollars from 
 Dawsey for absenting himself, and gave as excuse for accept- 
 ing the bribe, his conviction that Mrs. Dawsey could not be 
 found guilty on his testimony. After his arrest he was con- 
 fined in the same jail with the " retired " schoolmistress. 
 
 The second trial was approaching ; but, late on the night 
 preceding the sitting of the court, the jailer's house — which 
 adjoined and communicated with the prison — was forcibly en- 
 tered by four armed men disguised as negroes. They bound 
 and gagged the jailer, his wife, and two female servants, and, 
 seizing the keys, entered the jail, and carried Mulock off by 
 force. The keeper heard a desperate struggle, and it was sup- 
 posed Mulock was foully dealt by. The footprints of four 
 men were the next morning detected leading to a spot on the 
 
CONCLUSION. 301 
 
 bank of the river, where a boat appeared to have been moored ; 
 but there all traces were lost, and the overseer's fate is still 
 shrouded in mystery. 
 
 Mrs. Dawsey, whose cell adjoined Mulock's, was not dis- 
 turbed, but public suspicion connected her husband with the 
 affair. There was, however, no evidence against him, and he 
 went u unwhipt of justice." 
 
 The lady was arraigned for trial on the following day, but, 
 no witnesses appearing against her, she was — after a tedious 
 confinement of ten months — set at liberty. Thus, at last, she 
 achieved " a plantation and a rich planter ; " but her darling 
 object in life — to lead and shine in society, for which her edu- 
 cation and character peculiarly fitted her — she missed. With 
 the exception of her brutal husband, an ignorant overseer, and 
 a superannuated u schulemarm," imported from the North, she 
 has no associates. Society has built up a wall about her, and, 
 with the brand of Cain on her forehead, she is going through 
 the world. 
 
 Larkin, after breaking off his connection with his " re- 
 spectable " associates, descended from trading in human cattle, 
 to trafficking in four footed beasts and all manner of horned 
 animals. Joe offered him an. interest in his business ; but the 
 negro-trader had too long led a roving life to be content with 
 the dull routine of regular business. Young Preston, and Cra- 
 gin, Mandell & Co., stipulating for a half of his profits, then 
 furnished him a capital of fifty thousand dollars ; and with 
 that he embarked largely in " cattle driving." He bought in 
 Texas, and sold in New Orleans, and did a profitable business 
 until the breaking out of the rebellion. Since that event he 
 has been an officer in the confederate army. 
 
302 MY SOUTHERN FRIENDS. 
 
 Frank remained at my house for a fortnight after hig 
 return from the South, and then, apparently restored, went to 
 Boston. Business had grown distasteful to him, and he sought 
 a dissolution with Cragin ; but the latter prevailed on him to 
 remain in the firm, and go to Europe. He continued there 
 until news reached Liverpool of the fall of Fort Sumter, 
 when he took the first steamer for home. Arriving in Boston, 
 he at once effected a dissolution with Cragin, and then came on 
 to New York to make his " mother " a short visit prior to 
 entering the army. He expressed the intention of enlisting as 
 a private, and I tried to dissuade him from it, by representing 
 how readily he could raise a company in Boston, and go as an 
 officer. 
 
 " No," he replied ; " I know nothing of tactics. I am 
 unfit to lead ; I can only fire a musket. With one on my 
 shoulder, I will go, and sell my life as dearly as I can." 
 
 On the 18th of May, 1861, he left New York, as a private 
 in Duryee's Zouaves (5th Regiment N. Y. V.), and on the 
 10th of June following, while fighting bravely by the side of 
 York, Winthrop, and Greble, at Big Bethel, fell, badly wound- 
 ed by a musket ball. 
 
 When he was fit to be moved, I had him conveyed home. 
 His recovery was slow, but, as soon as he was able to go out, 
 and still suffering from his wound, he went on to Boston 
 to render Cragin some assistance in his business. General 
 Butler's expedition was then fitting out for New Orleans. 
 Weak as he was, Franl? raised a company of Boston boys for 
 it, and went off as their captain. 
 
 He was present at the bombardment and capture of New 
 Orleans ; but, growing weary of the inactivity which followed 
 
CONCLUSION. 303 
 
 those events, and hearing of the stirring times in Tennessee, 
 he resolved' to resign his commission, and seek service in the 
 "Western army. 
 
 After his . resignation had been accepted, and on the eve of 
 his departure for the North, as he was returning one night to 
 his lodgings, he was accosted by a woman of the street. Her 
 face seemed familiar, and he asked her name. She answered, 
 " Rosey Preston." He went with her to her home — a miser- 
 able room in the third story of a tumbledown shanty in Char- 
 tres street — and there found her child, a bright little fellow of 
 about six years. With them, on the following day, he sailed 
 for the North. 
 
 Arriving here, he settled on Rosey the income of a small 
 sum, and procured her apartments in a modest tenement house 
 in East Thirtieth street. There she now works at her needle, 
 and the little boy attends a public school. 
 
 Within the week of Frank's arrival, and when he was 
 about setting out for the West, I was surprised, one morning, 
 by Ally's appearance in my office. Newbern had fallen, and 
 he had made his way, with his mother, into the Union lines, 
 and, after a good deal of difficulty, had secured passage on 
 a return transport to New York. I provided employment 
 for Dinah, but Ally insisted on going into the war with 
 Frank. He went as his servant, but fought at his side at 
 Lawrenceburgh, Dog Walk, Chaplin Hills, and Frankfort, and 
 in three of those engagements was wounded. His bones now 
 whiten the plains of Tennessee. Rosey he never met, and 
 never forgave. 
 
 Frank was with that small body of regulars at Murfrees- 
 borough, who, on the 31st of December, checked the advance 
 
304 MY SOUTHERN FRIENDS. 
 
 of Hardee's corps after McCook's division had been driven from 
 the field,- and saved the day. He was wounded in the arm, 
 early in the morning, but kept the field, and joined in that 
 heroic movement when fifteen hundred men marched through 
 an open field, and charged upon a body of ten thousand 
 posted in a dense grove of cedars. Six hundred and forty-six 
 of the brave band were left on the field. Frank was among 
 them. A Belgian ball pierced his left side, and came out at 
 his back. He saw and recognized the man who gave the 
 wound, and, raising himself on his elbow, fired a last shot. It 
 did its work. The rebel lies buried on the spot where Frank 
 fell. 
 
 The telegram which informed me of this event, said : " He 
 is desperately wounded, but may survive." Efe is now at 
 home, slowly recovering. What he saw and did while serving 
 in Kentucky and Tennessee, I may at some future time narrate 
 to the reader. 
 
 In relating actual events, a writer cannot in all cases visit 
 artistic justice on every one of his characters ; for, in real 
 life, retribution does not always appear to follow crime. 
 But, whatever appearances may be, who is there that does 
 not feel that virtue is ever its own reward, and vice its own 
 punishment? and what one of my readers would exchange 
 " a quiet conscience, void of offence toward God and toward 
 man," for the princely fortune of John Hallet — who is still 
 the great merchant, the " exemplary citizen," the " honest 
 man " ? 
 
LAST WORDS. 
 
 "Whoever comes before the American public in a time of 
 great deeds, like this, with mere words, should have no idle 
 story to tell. He should have something to say ; some fact 
 to relate, or truth to communicate, which may awaken his 
 countrymen to a true estimate of their interests, or a true sense 
 of their duties. 
 
 The writer of this book has something to say ; some facts 
 to relate which have not been told ; some truths to communi- 
 cate about Southern life and society, which the public ought to 
 know. Some of these facts, gathered during sixteen years of 
 intimate business and social intercourse with the planters and 
 merchants of the South, he has endeavored to embody in this 
 volume. 
 
 He has woven them into a story, but they are never- 
 theless facts, and all of them, excepting one, occurred under 
 his own observation. That one — the death of old Jack — was 
 communicated to him, as a fact, by his friend, Dr. W. H. 
 Holcombe, of Waterproof, La., now an officer in the confed- 
 erate army. 
 
 The author does not mean to say that his story is true as a 
 connected whole. It is not. In it, persons are brought into 
 intimate relations who never had any connection in life ; 
 events are grouped together which happened at widely differ- 
 
306 MY SOUTHERN FRIENDS. 
 
 ent times ; and events are described as occurring in the vicinity 
 of Newbern — the slave auction, for instance — parts of which 
 occurred in Alabama, parts in Georgia, and parts in Louisiana. 
 But all of the characters he has described have lived, and all 
 
 4 
 
 of the events he has related have transpired. He would not, 
 however, have the reader believe that all which he says of 
 himself is true. Some of it is ; some of it is not. The story 
 needed something to revolve around ; ano^ as he commenced 
 by using the personal pronoun, he continued its use, even in 
 parts — like the scenes w r ith Hallet — wherein the / stands for 
 altogether another individual. 
 
 The real name of the character whom he has called Selma 
 (he can state this without wounding the feelings of any one, 
 as none of her relatives are now living), was Selma Winches- 
 ter. She was educated at Cambridge, Mass., was a slave, and 
 died of a broken heart shortly after being put at menial labor 
 in her mother-in-law's kitchen. Her character and appearance, 
 even the costume she wore on the occasion of her visit to the 
 opera — a scene which many residents of Boston and vicinity 
 w T ill remember — is attempted to be described literally. She 
 was not the daughter of Preston ; her father was a very differ- 
 ent sort of man. Nor was she sold at auction. The young 
 woman who was engaged to "Frank Mandell," and bought at 
 that sale by her brother, w r as equally as accomplished, though 
 not so beautiful as Selma. She committed suicide, as herein 
 related. The author has blended the two characters into one, 
 but in no particular has he departed from the truth. 
 
 The gentleman called Preston in the story was for many 
 years one of the writer's correspondents. He had two wives, 
 such as are described, and was the father of Joe and Rosey, 
 
LAST WORDS. 307 
 
 whose connection was as is related. He was not the owner of 
 " Boss Joe." The original of that character belonged (and 
 the writer trusts still belongs) to a cotton planter in Alabama. 
 He managed two hundred hands, and in no respect is he over- 
 drawn in the story. His sermon is repeated from memory, 
 and is far inferior to the original. He was a Swedenborgian, 
 and one of the finest natural orators the writer ever listened 
 to. Old Deborah was his mother, and died comfortably in her 
 bed. The old woman who fell dead on the auction block, was 
 the nurse of the young woman who was engaged to Frank. 
 The excitement of the scene, and her anxiety for her " young 
 missus," killed her. 
 
 Larkin's real name is Jacob Larkin. He was at one time 
 connected with the person called Hallet. He was well known 
 in many parts of the South, and relinquished negro-trading 
 under circumstances similar to those related in the story. He 
 is now — though a rebel in arms against his country — an honest 
 man. 
 
 John Hallet, the writer is sorry to say, is also a real 
 character ; but he does not disgrace the good city of Boston. 
 He operates on a wider field. 
 
 ****** 
 
 That most excellent woman, Mrs. C. M. Kirkland, said to 
 the author, shortly after the fall of Fort Sumter : "If you can- 
 not shoulder a musket, you can blow a bugle." In this, and 
 in a previous book, he has attempted to blow that bugle. If 
 the blasts are not as musical as they might be, he has no apol- 
 ogy to make for them. They have, at least, the ring of truth ; 
 and whether they please the public ear, or not, the author is 
 
308 MY SOUTHERN FBIENDS. 
 
 satisfied. It is no unimportant part of the great war for free- 
 dom to know the social condition of our enemies, and the actual 
 influence of the institution which inspires such hatred for us. 
 Knowing the truth, we can better determine whether it should 
 form a part of our policy to oppose or sustain that institution. 
 
 THE END. 
 
AMONG THE PINES. 
 
 By EDMUND KIRKE, 
 
 AUTHOR OF "MY SOUTHERN FRIENDS." 
 
 A NEW EDITION JUST READY. 
 
 OVER 30,000 COPIES 
 
 Have been already sold, and the demand continues unabated. 
 
 One handsome duodecimo volume, over 300 pages, cloth bound, price %\ ; 
 
 or paper covers, price 'lb cents. 
 
 AMONG THE PINES. 
 
 The success that has attended the publication of " Among the Pines," 
 has been of the most extraordinary character. It is extravagantly praised 
 by every one, both as the most truthful picture of Southern life ever pub- 
 lished, as well as a work of dramatic and powerful interest. The sale has 
 already exceeded 30,000 copies, and bids fair soon to double that number. 
 
 * — ^— — — ■ 
 
 The North American Quarterly, in a twelve-page review of this won- 
 derful work, savs: " The book is not a novel : yet it possesses the attrac- 
 tion of a highly wrought and powerful work of fiction. It has an intense 
 and terrible interest in some parts of its story, and the scenes, incidents, 
 and characters are portrayed with uncommon graphic and dramatic power. 
 Yet the work is not onlv not a regular novel, but we are assured there is 
 absolutely nothing fictitious in it, save in the alteration of a few names 
 and dates. * * * A very remarkable book." 
 
 The Providence Journal savs : " It is one of the most readable books 
 on Southern life we have ever seen. The pictures which the author gives 
 of the working of peculiar institutions are not surpassed by the most tragic 
 scenes so vividly portrayed by Mrs. Stowe in ■ Uncle Tom's Cabin.' ' 
 
 The Boston Banner of Light says : " 'Among the Pines' is certainly 
 a most remarkable book ; the writer of it is a real hero, without ever ap- 
 pearing to be aware of it. He sketches and colors with the firm and rapid 
 hand of an artist, and throws together incidents and develops scenes that 
 stir the blood in every vein in the body." 
 
 The N Y. Independent calls it " A striking and truthful portraiture of 
 slave society ; a powerful and even painful story, and worth reading far 
 more for instruction than for pleasure. The story is clear and terrible with 
 the lurid light of the passions, miseries and violence, that grow out of 
 slavery." 
 
 V This Boole is sold by Booksellers everywhere, and will be sent 
 by mail, postage free, on receipt of price by 
 
 . CARLETON, Publisher, New York. 
 
 413 Broadway, corner Lispenard Street. 
 
v^> 
 
 • 
 
 NEW BOOKS 
 
 And New Editions Recently Issued by 
 
 CAS.LETON, PUBLISHER, 
 
 (Late RUDD 4 CARLETON,) 
 413 BROADWAY, NEW YORK. 
 
 KB— The Publisher, npon receipt of the price in advance, will send any 
 of the following Books, by mail, postage feer, to any part of thp United State*. 
 This convenient and very safe mode ma) be adopted when the neighboring Book- 
 tellers are not supplied with the desired work. State name and address in tuiL 
 
 » < 
 
 Les Miscrablcs. 
 
 Victor Hugo's great novel— the only complete unabridged trans- 
 lation. Library Edition. Five vols. i2mo. cloth, each, $1.00. 
 The same, five vols. 8vo. cloth, 1 1 .00. Paper covers, 50 cts. 
 The same, (cheap ed.) 1 vol. 8vo. cloth, £1.50. paper, $1.00. 
 I,es Miserable**— Illustrations. 
 26 photographic illustrations, by Brion. Elegant quarto, $3.00 
 
 Among the Pines, 
 or, Down South in Secession Time. Cloth, $1.00, paper, 75 cts. 
 
 Uly Southern Friends. 
 By author of "Among the Pines." Cloth, $1.00. paper, 75 ct*. 
 
 Rutlcdge. 
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 The new novel by the popular author of " Rutledge," $1.50. 
 
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 A hand-book for ladies and gentlemen. Best, wittiest, most en 
 tertaining work on taste and good manners ever printed, $1.50 
 
 The Cloister and the Hearth. 
 A magnificent new historical novel, by Charles Reade, author 
 of "Peg Woffington," etc., cloth, $1.50, paper covers, $1.25. 
 
 Beulah. 
 A novel of remarkable power,- by Miss A. J. Evans. $1.5* 
 
LIST OF BOOKS 1'CBLISHED 
 
 ~, . . Artemus Ward, Hi* Book. 
 
 Ine racy writings of this humorous author, illustrated, $1.25. 
 
 P TUe old Merchants of New York. 
 
 Entertaining reminiscences of ancient mercair.lj New York 
 
 City, by "Walter Ban ett, clerk." First Series. * 1.50 each. 
 
 XT , , . _ I«Iko and Unlike. 
 
 Novel by A. S. Roe, author of "I've been thinking," & c . 81 ca 
 
 C j • ,- , 0r P»euB C. Kerr Papers. 
 
 Second series of letters by this comic military authority. 81.29. 
 
 xt 1 • . , Parian Grey. 
 
 New domestic novel, by theauthor of "Lena Rivers," etc. 81.50. 
 
 * 1 a • Iiena Rivers. 
 
 A popular American novel, by Mrs. Mary J. Holmes, $1.50. 
 
 . m A Book about Doctors. 
 
 An entertaining volume about the medical profession. $1.50. 
 
 The Adventures of Verdant Green 
 Humorous novel of English College life. Illustrated. $,.25. 
 T l n , t^ . T,,e Cul Prit Fay. 
 
 Joseph Rodman Drake's faery poem, elegantly printed, 50 cts. 
 A , . I>octor Antonio. 
 
 A charming love-tale of Italian hte, by G. Ruffini, $1.50. 
 . . Lavinia. 
 
 A new love-story, by the author of "Doctor Antonio," $1.50. 
 A • „ . . Dear Experience. 
 
 An amusing Parisian novel, by author " Doctor Antonio," $ 1 .00. 
 
 A — ^ he Lif f °^ AIexa " d «r Von Humboldt. 
 
 A new and popular biography of this savant, including his 
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 A 11,, Love (L'Amour.) 
 
 A remarkable volume, from the French of Michelet. $1.25. 
 . _ Ionian (La Femme.) 
 
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 New work by Michelet, author " Love" and " Woman," $1 .2 c. 
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 Humorous and satirical rhymes for grown people, 7 c cts. 
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 Novel by Anthony Trollope, author of" Doctor Thorne," $ 1 .50. 
 
J 
 

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