r ? ^-> THE UNIVERSITY OF NORTH CAROLINA LIBRARY THE WILMER COLLECTION OF CIVIL WAR NOVELS PRESENTED BY RICHARD H. WILMER, JR. ^iM4£aC0il£CT 'JIST CHALK WHAT i TELL YER-THFA"LL FITE." A STORY OF WAR AND RECONSTRUCTION. BRISTLING WITH THORNS. By O. T. beard. DETROIT: THE DETROIT NEWS COMPANY. 1884. COPTBIGHT. J. A. Marsh, Detboit. 1883 CONTENTS. CHAPTER. PAGE. I.— The Imprint of the Die - • . - 9 II — A Cracker Courtship - . - - 17 III.— The Two Toads - - . - - 25 rv.— In Search op a Recruit . . . 39 Y.— I WAS A Dalton. I am a Trenhom - - 54 VI, — I CAN NOT Wish you Success - - - 66 VII. — Catastrophe from a Bishop's Breakfast - 75 VIII.— Rock op Chickamauga . . . . 81 IX.— The Woman of the Battlefield • - - 95 X. — News from Chjckamauga - - - 110 XI.— Dat Fool Niggah Jupe - - - - 114 XII.— The Tides! The Tides! - - - - 121 XIII. — The Confederate Deserter - - - 130 XIV. — He Stood Before Me and Called - - 136 XV.— Halt! Halt, There! - - - - 147 XVI.— Potatoes and Onions Better than Preaching 157 XVII. — Her Soul Froze within Her - - - 169 XVIII. — Andersonville . - - . . 180 XIX.— A Day of Horrors 186 XX.— I Know'd Yer by the Prison Smell - 196 XXI. — Uncle Billy Done Come wid de Union - 209 XXII.— The Wreck op War - - - - 226 XXIII. — Gathering of the Clouds - - - - 240 XXIV.— The 1900 - 253 XXV.— Clouds Charged with Storm - - - 261 XXVI. — The Storm Bursts over Slimpton - - 271 XXVII.— If a D N Nig Vote agin us He Shall for- ever Die ------ 276 XXVIII.— The Coat Done Brush'd - - - 288 7 8 CONTENTS. CHAPTEB, PAGE. XXIX.— Post Oaks and Hickories - - - - 295 XXX.— The Tide of Passion ... - 302 XXXr.— Only a Yankee 313 XXXII.— Unchained Tigers .... 323 XXXIII.— Mansa's Fate - ... - 334 XXXIV.— Pray Quick, Joe! - - - - 34G XXXV.— Thhough Bramble, Briar and Morass - - 354 XXXVI.— Po' Jupk! - - - - - 3G5 XXXVII.— 'A Child's Cry Louder than the Storm - 374 XXXVIII.— A Voice from the North ... 890 XXXIX —What will the People Say? - - 398 XL.— Daughter op a Slave - ... 406 XLI — Something Better th.vn Prejudice - - 420 BRISTLING WITH THORNS. CHAPTER I. THE IMPRESS OF THE DIE. The Confederacy was organized. A passionate protest styled itself a nation. Mississippi furnished it a head. Fire- eating Mississippians were enraptured. They hailed it as the dawn of a revolution that would fling the " mudsill " and the slave in the wallow, sceptre the master class Avith a lash, and place "gentlemen " in command of the world.. Such was their dream of a golden era. Among all Mississippians none were more enthusiastic than Walter Trenhom. Trenhom was an impression, the society about him the stamp. Begun before he could remember, continued without inter- mission, the imprint was strong and deep; the work of a clear cut, purposeful die. For more than a year past every public gathering, every drawing room of this State was a mouth of reviling and denun- ciations, flinging its venom of utterance at everything north- ern or national. It was a torrid atmosphere of hate and delusions, deepening the imprint of Southern thought on the mind of Walter Trenhom. The voices penetrated his ear. He became a cavern of echo. He sneered at the Yankee, despised the laborer, worshipped "king cotton," propugned State's rights, and glibly asserted the omnipotence of the South. Trenhom belonged to a fighting family. His grand- father was a distinguished soldier of the revolution. His (9) 10 BRISTLING WITH THORNS. lather sustained a heroic part at Chepultepec and Cheru- busco. With two generations of fame inviting him to emulation, and an inheritance of hot blood to push him on, it was impos- sible that he would remain inactive in the midst of conflict. He was at Slimpton when the first note of battle reached him. During the preceding six months there had been warm contestation as to the relative merits of Stanmore's three-year- old filly and Oglehope's half Arabian colt, and it was to be settled on the mile of straight away road ending at Sol. Bur- ty's grocery. The neighboring planters all gathered to see the sport and look through the bottom of Burty's glasses. Burty's bottles were in demand; the planters' loose change flowed in a prodi- gal stream over his counter; bottle turners became exhilarated; eyes flamed, tongues loosened, and Burty was happy. The contending racers were sent uj:) the road to the starting point. Half way up a horseman, hat in hand, dashed by them at mad gallop. Tlie crowd in the store, hearing the heavy beating of the horse's hoofs and the frantic bellowing of the excited driver, ran out into the road. The horse paused. The rider was ofi". It was half a tumble, half a leap; but he stood on his feet in the midst of the wondering crowd, screaming with the lustiness of a sturdy pair of lungs. *- Sumter! Sumter! Sumter! Huy-y-y-agh! " "What is it, colonel?" asked Col. Bartdale. "Hoop! Hoop! Hoop!" shouted Col. Crabtree — for it was he who did the riding and shouting. " Sumter, huy y-a-y-h!" " Took!" cried a dozen voices. " Captured! " cried a dozen more. " Keflumexed ! " " Wallopped ! " " Took ! Burned ! " shouted Crabtree. " Hoop ! Hoop ! Ho-oya-a-li — ! " Then he paused for breath. " H-o-o-y-a-a-h ! " screamed the excited crowd in mad chorus. They flung their hats in the riir; they embraced in THE IMPRESS OF THE DIB. 11 couples, in threes, in fours; they yelled; they grasped hands, slapped each other on the back, threw their arms about one another's necks; they danced; they leaped; they shouted until exhaustion brought their delirium of joy to a pause. In front, of Burty's bar the crowd pressed about Crab tree for details. The questioning of the crowd and Crabtree's answers ran like this : "An' hit surrendered fo' shoa?" "True's shootin'." " Yer say it was burned?" " To a cracklin'." "Burn the Yanks?" "No!" " Dad fetch'd ef 'tain't a pity." " Dog gawn'd shackelty coots ! they'd ort to jest flung 'em in. an' burnt 'em up." " Did they make much of a fight?" "Yanks fight?" "Bah; they ain't a chick-a-dee's fight in the whole bilin' of 'em." " And you say they let 'em go nawth?" '- Yes l"" "Ratted shame; ort to put chains on 'em an' toted 'em round for a circus." " What do the Yanks say?" " They talk of war ! " Crabtree replied. At this the crowd laughed uproariously. " The idea of a sniveling, canting, clock-peddlino- Yankee fighting ! 'Tain't in 'em," exclaimed one of the group. " But they will," spoke up a voice at the end of the counter. It was '• Uncle Jack " Backfole who spoke. "Uncle Jack" was a character. The owner of twenty negroes. Tall, gaunt, strong as an ox, with a seamed face the color of tobacco juice, and the best rough and tumble fighter in the county until after he had passed his first half century. " Pshaw ^! " " Fudge ! " " Fight ! " " Boo I " " I fout with 'em in Mexico 'n seed 'em," Jack persisted. 12 BRISTLING WITH THORNS. " That's when they had Southern gentlemen with them and to lead them." " Mout be ! But jist chalk what I tell yer — they'll fite." "Whip 'em with rotten pawpaws ! " '* Yaas, but they uns don't fite that way ! " " You Uncle Jack ! Drat it ! You ain't agin ver country, be ye ? " '■' No, 1 hain't. I'm for Massisip agin the world. But don't you go to foolin' yuself on soft hoein'." "Hole 'em like coons. Shoa." " Yaas; but when ye go fer the hole jist look out fer wile cats." Uncle Jack poured his " dryso " down his throat, laid the glass on the counter, placed his back against it, and looked over the crowd. Craf)tree was nettled. He turned on Uncle Jack. " Wild cats? " '' Yaas, that's what I called 'em." " I'd whip a dozen of 'em." Uncie Jack bit a huge morsel from his plug of twist, rolled it into the side of his jaw, and replied : " Mout be; but dad fetched ef yer innards don't bother ye when ye gets through with one." " Gentlemen," snorted Crabtree, " do yeh heah Uncle Jack? The idee of a weasen-faced, skulkin', shrinkin' Yank fightin'!" "Yaas, I say they'll fite," retorted Jack, steadfastly. , " So will any cowardly animal when cornered," interrupted Col. Bartdale. " But, sah, you will find the resistance of the Yankee to be the kicking of a toad, sah! The squirming of a sarpent, sah, after youa heel is on them, sah." " Yaas," retorted Jack; " but look out for his ^nap and bite afore ye gets yer heel thar ! " Bartdale turned upon the speaker. " Uncle Jack, I am surprised at you. Surprised at you, sah! The Southern gen- tleman is invincible, sah! Invincible! A half-dozen South- ern regiments can stride over the Nortli at will, sah! Yes, at will, sah! From the Potomac to the Passamaquoddy, sah! To the Passamaquoddy, &ah ! " THE IMPRESS OF THE DIE. 13 "Hoo-y-a-a-h ! " shouted the excited crowd. ''Mebby, colonel, mebby!" retorted Uncle Jack; "but if they do, they'll go as prisoners. Shoa ! " Bartdale was amazed and excited. " Heavens, Uncle Jack ! You astound me. Astound me, sah ! The men of the South are accustomed to arms and to horses, sah! They are the best marksmen and the most expert horsemen in the world, sah ! They have martial ardor, sah ! And they are daring and brave, sah! Daring and brave, sah ! The most patriotic people in the world, sah! They will sweep the Yan- kee scum. Yes, sah, sweep the Yankee scum before them. Yes, gentlemen, before them." "Hoo-y-a-a-h!" " This glorious victory " — " Hoo-y-a-a-h ! " " Is only a foretaste, a nibble, sahs ! " " Hoo-y-a-a-h ! " "We'll march to Boston, to Boston, gentlemen, and eat the whole apple there." " Hoo-y-a-a-h ! " "Yes, gentlemen; we'll eat the apple there. , We will dic- tate terms to them there, sahs I " " Hoo-y-a-a-h ! " " With the Yankees at our feet, sahs ! " " Hoo-y-a-a-h ! Hoo-y-a-a-h ! " ao^ain screamed the news- excited, whisky-maddened crowd. Uncle Jack shook his head. " I'me with yer, boys ! I'me for Massisip every time, you bet! But I ain't no dawg awn fool. You fellahs think ther ain't goin' to be no showah " " Not much ! " " You jist wait till them Yanks shakes therselves and gits ready to rain; drat my skin ef you don't think the Arctic Oshun's bruck loose an' peltin' on ye with icebero-s ' " "Oh!" "Jist look out fo' tall scratchin', that's all." The horse race was abandoned. To pump Crabtree of Charleston news was more exciting. At last he had told all he knew and all he surmised. And the crowd learned, as far 14 BBISTLIXG WITH THORNS. as Crabtree knew them, all the details of the bombardment and surrender of Fort Sumter. The younger planters resolved on instant action They would raise companies and without delay. They would haste, else all the harvest of glory would be reaped. Time and place for future meeting were quickly arranged. Bottles were paraded and emptied, many wild cheers for Mississippi. Jeff Davis and the Confederacy disturbed the sultry air, and the enthused crowd mounted their horses and dispersed. On his way home Trenhom thought only of his company, and who would compose it. Man after man stood up before him. " Yes ! Yes ! Jim. Slocum, Si Coe, Burney, Joe Ratley "— the long list paraded in his brain. Tall and short, fat and lean, swarthy and fever blanched. But, singular to say, with- out exception they were all " pore whites." Not one of them a slave-holder. To these poor whites slavery was a petrifying curse. It robbed them of manhood; it sifted out their vitality; it chained them to ignorance; it beat them down in the wallow; it housed them like beasts; it herded them with dogs; it made of them its scavengers and hounds; yet of these Walter Tren- hom would make his company. Sarcasm of the century. When slavery needed an iron hand, it turned to its sludge. It would make its buttress of its silt. Full of ardor, Trenhom galloped homeward. One after another of the neighboring planters dropped out on the way, and at last there was no sound on the road but the swift beat- ing hoofs that hurried him on. He was within the circle from which he hoped to gather, his recruits. The dream of glory took possession of him. He saw himself at the head of his company, garmented in the bedazzlements of war, drums bravely beating, colors gaily flaunting, bright steel shimmering, and wild huzzas following. He traced his pathway. Marches through cities carpeted THE IMPRESS OF THE DIE. 15 with flowers and adulation; tents pitched on the fragrant bosom of clover; battles that were to be routs; rapid pro- motion; a return homeward; a crown of laurels. Then father and grandfather would be repeated; he, too, would be en- shrined in aifection and honor. When he had reached the height, and stood on its summit in the broad sunlight, crowned with victor}', he saw before him a cabin, perched on the hill side, a little way removed from the road. Between the cabin and the road there had long a_o-o been a fence; so long ago that the remnant of it was rotted and lay sprawling on the ground. Half way up from the road the open space was overgrown with v/eeds, thistles and brambles, through which here and there was to be seen the frowsy head of a decaying stump. Nearer the cabin the earth was naked and parched. This, too, was dotted with stumps, some of them caverns of rottenness and nests of vermin, while others were begrimed and smutted by fire. In a wallow near one of these, and not more than thirty feet from the door, a large, razor-backed sow lay grunting, her litter running over her and mouthing her teats out of the filth. The cabin was not more than twelve feet square, constructed of small, unbarked pine logs, notched at the ends, to hold them in their place and bring them nearer together. The roof was made of rived clapboards held in position by pine poles laid transverse and bound with withes to the logs below. At one end of this building was a chimney, broad at the base, tapering, and also constructed of logs. This had been daubed inside and outside with mud, and the chinks between the logs of the cabin had been filled in the same way, with moistened clay. Logs split, smoothed with an ax and jointed at the sides, formed the floor within. Of ceiling there was none, the broad spaces between the rafters and the clapboard roof was surrendered to dust, cobwebs and bugs. To this pen there was one rude door with leather hinges, and a glassless window opening, shuttered like the doorway. The cabin was a blot on the landscape. It was an uncouth and startling exclamation of mendicancy made by the slave 16 BRISTLING WITH THORNS. system. And yet, cramped, pinched and forbidding as it was, it was a home. It gave shelter to a man and his wife and family. Here lived Joe Ratley, "Red Joe." Seeing the cabin and " Red Joe " perched on a log in front of it, Tren- hom drew reins and turned his horse into the beaten path throusfh the weeds to secure his first recruit. A CRACKEK COURTSHIP. 17 CHAPTER II. A CRACKEK COURTSHIP. In the year 1855, a duplicate of the Ratley hovel stood near Pceky Run, two miles north of Ratley's as the crow flies. The cabin was a little removed from the run, looking down on its shimmering surface as it rolled on, glittering like silver dots through the dense overhanging foliage. It v^^as the home of one Zeek Buggs and his overflowing nest of little Buggs. It would have been worse than the Ratley place, if possible. But it was not. There is an impassible in filth, discomfort and degradation. In either place the impassible was reached. The pit of nastiness has a bottom; both hovels stood upon it. The road to Slimpton, in front of the cabin, follows Peeky Run, and a few hundred yards eastward bends to the south around the base of an oak-clad hill and is lost to view. On an early May morning of that year, a boy of twenty summers approached the curve from the south and paused in the middle of the road as his eyes lit on the cabin. He stood a few moments, nervously moving his left shoulder up and down, his eyes following the movement of his bare toes, stroking the pliant clay dust beneath him. After a few moments he moved on twenty or thirty yards in the direction of the cabin, and halted again. Several times this movement was repeated; at last he reached the point where the road approached nearest the cabin. There he stuck fast: then drew himself back among the glabrous, shining leaves of the holly bushes, and the white flowers that made a frame-work about his long, flaming red hair. In this setting its bright color was intensified. He was a boy with a purpose, half in- clined to draw back. His resolution was heroic up to the 18 BRISTLING WITH THORNS. bend of tlie road. On ' half fled when the test was in view; the other half nearij^ i-an him through the holly bushes and across the run when he stood fronting the door of the cabin. Weak minds are inconstant, blossoming with resolves, barren of execution. They stride out without estimating. Approaching the end, they overweigh difficulties and turn. Ignorant of their capacities arid blind to obstacles, they rush to the performance of a purpose; then they shuffle and hesitate before shadows or build insurmountable barriers where none exist, and fly from the chevaux de frise their terrors have created. Such was the boy down before the Buggs cabin. He was a beast overburdened. He had drawn steadily on the level. At the turn of the road the hill began. From there on was heavy dragging, with many pauses for wind. The front of the cabin was a chuck hole. There the overladen beast stuck fast. Havins: drawn back, half concealed bv the bushes, he stood. For a time he was motionless. A bright yellow-plumed Mississippi warbler lit on a low hanging bough over his head, shook his wood-brown tail, ruffled the olive tints of his back, and burst into full-throated song. An olive-crowned thrush hoppod from branch to branch of an adjoining holly bush, turning its wliite neck first one side then the other, crying "peche! peche! peche!" with shrill, energetic twitter. The cry of the bird aroused the boy. He plucked a white holly flower, the startled thrush spread its wings, and the boy listlessly pulled and tore the white leaves, while the toes of his right foot toyed with the rank grass that clung about his ankles. At last n voice reached him. "Ho, Joel" A CRACKER COURTSHIP. 19 How long he would have stayed, whether he would have advanced or retreated it is impossible to say. If the boy's mind was filled with a riddle, or if he was try- ing to solve it, the voice dispersed the effort. It is possible the boy was not thinking. He had reached a certain point in his purpose; it deserted him, and he sank into lethargy. The voice pricked and roused him. He answered back "Hi!" and at once advanced towards the Buggs cabin. It was Zeek Buggs who probed him into activity. Zeek was seated on the ground facing his cabin, his back resting against a stump, his knees drawn up to his chin, in- dulging in " bacca fro' a cawn cob." He had not observed Joe advancing and halting. But his daughter " Lissy" was not so blind. She saw Joe at the bend of the road, and through a broad chink in the cabin had noted his every wavering movement until he shrank into the holly-bushes. Seeing that Joe halted, she called out through the chink, "Dad, ther's Joe!" Dad looked, saw Joe, and hailed. When Joe approached the stump the younger members of the family gathered in and about the door. Three little ones outside, without even the covering of a fig-leaf, were tumbling with a litter of dogs. " Lissy," " Lindy Yan " and " Nervey " were half concealed behind the door, "peeking out." A girl of five or six, perfectly nude, stood full in the doorway, and behind her the prolific mother of the flock, with a snuff dip in her mouth, looking over the child's head. Joe grew embar- rassed under the battery of eyes, and resorted to a child's panacea: he pushed the forefinger of his right hand into his mouth as he paused, voiceless, by the stump that sustained Zeek Buggs' lazy back. The boy was attired in his Sunday best, and on a mission. He was shoeless, his brown jeans pantaloons, which halted half-way between his knees and his heels, were laced over his shoulders by two blue cotton suspenders, but his clothes were clean and evidently fresh from the wash run; his white cotton shirt opened in front, and, fastened by one button at the throat, exposed his sun-browned breast, and its broad, un- 20 BRISTLING WITH THORNS. starched and uiiironed collar reached well down to the points of his anovular shoulders. Of coat and vest he was as innocent as he was of foot- covering. The boy was Joe Ratley. As Joe stood by the stump, Buggs, without removing his pipe, spoke: "How'dJoe." Joe mumbled " How'd," and stood silent. Buggs looked up, " What be, Joe?" An idiotic grin spread over Joe's freckled and sallow face. "Want suthin?" continued Buggs. " Maum done sent I." "Maum did?" " Yaas." " Maum got ager?" "No! He! He!" "Got 'nother brat?" "No! He! He!" "Don't you see hini's fixt?" interposed shrewd Mrs. Buggs. Buggs removed the pipe from his mouth and looked Joe over, from his brown felt hat to his bare toes. " Yaas, him be!" Then a nude child and a pup rolled over against Buggs' long legs. "Drat yerl" snorted Buggs, as he kicked them away. The child limped round the corner of the cabin howling, the pup biting at its heels. " Cavortin' arter gals, bein't yu, Joe?" It was wise Mrs. Buggs who asked it. " Reckon?" said Buggs. "Shoa!" replied the Bugg in calico. " Manm done tolt I," whined Joe. " Ding my buttons!" ejaculated Buggs. "Maum done tolt I," sniveled Joe again. "That's hit, be it?" asked Buggs, looking up at Joe. " Maum done tolt I." "To com fo' one o' ther gals?" " Yaas, maum done tolt I." A CRACKER COURTSHIP. 21 "Which pup yer want?" "Hech?" " Which gal yer want?" "He! He ! " Joe giggled. His idiocy was deepening. " They's a bilin' o' them," continued Buggs. "Yaas!" The maternal Buggs again removed from her mouth the frayed end of the stick with which she was snuflf saturating her gums, and spoke: " Reckon hit be Lissy ! " *' You shet! " snorted Bu2:scs. "Dad fetched ef he's fool nuff ter want that brick-top." "Reckon it be," replied the undaunted mother Buggs. " Shet yer gabblement, yo' heah!" Then Buggs burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughter. "Dad ratted! They all two red heads 'u'd set yan neck o' woods afiah! " Joe's finger plunged farther into his wide mouth. Melissa's red head disappeared behind the door and the snuff dip re- turned to "Maum " Buggs' gums. " Be hit bricktop?" queried Buggs. " Don't keer. Maum done tolt I," replied Joe, with his eyes fixed on the sun-baked earth. "There's Lindy Yan! " "Yaas!" "Lindy! " shouted Buggs: " yere! " No answer. "Drat yer shackelty hide! Yer heah?" At that moment the vigorous hand of " Lissy" was applied to the rear of " Melinda Ann" and she pitched out of the doorway snapping " Ye-u! " As she turned to go back to the door Buggs paternal called her. "Yeu gal!" Melinda paused and faced about. "Joe's artah yer!" Mfelinda imitated Joe. Her finger ran to her mouth. Her face and his were two caverns, at which a finger, half concealed, stood sentinel. 22 BRISTLING WITH THORNS. Motionless she confronted Joe with her body, her head bowed. If she saw anytliing of liirn it was only his toes. This was Melinda, a girl of sixteen, tall and straight as an arrow, nut brown, unkempt hair, flowing in tangled waves over her back, shoulders and face, pale blue eyes, and a face which but for dirt and ague blanch would have been pretty; hands small and sun-browned, long finger-nails black with filth, well-shaped bare feet, dirtier than either her hands or face. Her one visible garment was a faded and soiled calico gown, which fell far short of her ankles, exposing the lower half of her beautifully rounded legs. That she wore no under garments was made evident by the exhibition of her body and limbs through the many rents in her dress. Covering it was not. It filled no requirements of decency. Seen through all the gaps, the exhibition was shameful. It was a barbarous want of attire. And yet she was shameless. She had no better; she never had better; she knew no bet- ter. With no experience beyond filthy poverty; chained all her days to foulest ignorance; breathed upon only by bestial instincts; nurtured in a hot-bed of groveling desires; she was degraded without knowing it; indecent, and blind to it. She was the inscription of her life-long surroundings. A result of the slave system. Scoria of the slave furnace. At once an exfoliation, and a tattered protest against slavery. Receiving no reply from his daughter, Buggs spoke again. "Git wi' um — there's more pups heiar nor there's bones." "Maum done tolt I she'd give we 'uns a skillet," added Joe, in his most persuasive tones. " Yaas, reckon sh'll go." " An' a quilt kiver," added Joe. " Yaas." "An' a bushel o' grits," continued Joe, enthusiastically parading his riches. " Wher yer gwine, Joe?" asked Buggs paternal. A CRACKER COURTSHIP. 23 '* Ter Scroon's clearin'." " Wher's Scroon?" " Done gone ter Arkasavv." "When'd he git?" "Dun'o. He's lit fo' sho'." " T'ain't no loss ! " " He's alius a low down, triflin' cuss ! " " Yaas ! " "A poa shackelty coot." " Yaas ! " " The ignorantest crittah ! " " Yaas ! " " Turn up him ^nout at cawn juice." '♦ Yaas ! " ^ " Nevah drink'd a drap in him bawn days." " No ! " " Scraped cotton ovah yan like a niggah." " Yaas ! " " No scratch of a gent'aman on him." " No ! " ■ " Poa, shacklin cuss ! " " Yaas ! " "An' him streak't?" " Yaas, done gitted." " Drat ef I ain't glad." "Yaas." " An' yer gwine theer? " " Yaas, maum done tolt I." " All right, Joe, take the gal." "Hech !" "'Lindy's gwine." Joe pushed the finger back in his mouth, giggled idiotic- ally, "He! he! he!" looked down on the ground, then turned one vacant eye on Melinda, and Melinda neither blushed nor paled nor simpered; she simply stood with her finger between her teeth looking at Joe. At this juncture the mother and sister joined the group 24 BRISTLING WITH THORNS. about the stump, and seeing that neither Joe nor Melinda were likely voluntarily to lessen the distance between them, Mrs. Bucrgs gave Melinda a violent push between the shoulders that fairly threw her into Joe's arms. Joe continued his imbecile "He-he-he!" and threw his arms about Melinda, who seemed no way averse to his rugged embracing. " Yero, Manzy, git a broom, an' they two uns '11 jump over liit." This was the suggestion of prudent papa. " Ther hain't nairy broom," replied mamma Manzy. "Git down theer an' cut a holly stick an' let 'em uns jump thet." The stick was brought. Joe and Melinda, hand in hand, jumped over it, and — they were married. Melinda entered the cabin, and in a few moments appeared with a piece of discolored calico formed in the shape of a sun- bonnet, and rejoined Joe. The bonnet and dress were her entire wardrobe. As soon as Melinda came to his side, Joe turned and walked down the path, Melinda following a few feet behind him. Without a kiss, without a tear, without a prayer, without a farewell, withoilt a " God bless you," uttered or thought, this girl, unregretted and unregretting, walked away after Joe — walked away in rags and filth — down through the path, out into the dusty road, and passed out of sight around the bend without once turning her head, away from the only home she had ever known — forever. THE TWO TOADS. 25 CHAPTER ITI. THE TWO TOADS. A mile away from Buggs' cabin Joe turned into a foot- path leading over the hills, and steadily marched on until he reached Scroon's abandoned clearing, passed through it and stood before the open door of the cabin. There he paused, looked in and turned. Then for the first time he seemed to be aware that Melinda stood behind him. All along the clay road and the tortuous path over tlie hills they had been dumb. Not one word passed between them. She kept pace with him, lagged when he loitered and increased her speed when he hurried. She was his; a dog with a new master. And like a pliant dog she nosed his heels and conformed her pace to the speed or drivel of his legs. When Joe's eyes fell on Melinda, an idiotic leer spread over his face. Then he laughed, "He! he! he!" Melinda stood looking vacantly on the few feet of bare earth intervening between her and her new-found hus- band. "Pooty, hain't ye?" Melinda was dumb. " Drat ef ye hain't pooty; hain't ye?" Melinda nervously wound one of the strings of her calico head covering about her fingers, then swung the bonnet to and fro, with the swaying motion of her body. " Come yeer." Melinda advanced. " Set." Melinda silently looked to know where. 26 BRISTLING WITH THORNS. Joe was seated on a squared log tliat served for a door- step. He pointed to a place beside him — " Yeer." Melinda sat down. Joe's milky eyes were close to iier face. He raised his right hand quickly and chucked her under the chin. "He! he! lie!" "He! he! he!" chorused Mclinda. " Drat ef ye hain't pooty." "He! he! " simpered Melinda. "Pooty!" "He! he!" " Maum don't tolt I." "He! he!" " Maum 'lowed you's a peert heifer." "Yees." "An' dinged pooty." "He! he!" Then they sat in silence. Two great toads. They had croaked, now they gaped. A quarter, a half hour sped away, then Joe stood up and walked into the cabin. A cotton bed tick filled with straw, as it had been aban- doned by the former occupant of the place, lay on a rude bed- stead of pine poles in one corner of the cabin; a birch broom leaned against the wall in another corner; a few broken dishes lay scattered on the floor. This was the cabin and its furnish- ing. After Melinda had felt the bed, looked into the broad, open fireplace and up the chimney, Joe spoke again. "'Lindy!" "Eh?" "Gwan ovah to maum's an' git the skillet an' grits." "An' the kiver?" " Yaas, maum done tolt I we uns mout hev 'em." Melinda turned to go. Joe called again. "'Lindy!" ' "Eh?" THE TWO TOADS. 27 " Dad fetched if yer ain't pooty." "He! he!" And Melinda trudged away under the burning sun with this little joy trickling in her heart. Some one had told her she was pretty. She had heard it for the first time in her life. As she crossed Peeky Run on her way to " Maum " Ratley's cabin, seeing the reflection of herself on its glossy surface, she paused and looked. She sat down by the stream and looked again. Her little feet dropped into the current. She leaned forward, her fingers dallying with her glowing limbs where the rippling waters rolled about them. Unconsciously she passed her hands upward, down^vard, and the loosened dirt and dust flowed away in the branch. She saw how her limbs glistened fresh from the lavatory. Perhaps she noticed how much prettier they looked. She made a cup of her hands and washed her face and her neck. She moistened her tan,- gled mass of hair and pushed it back from her brow and face. Then she looked again in the stream. A contented smile stole into her young face, and she trudged on. In front of the Ratley cabin she paused, and found relief from embarrass- ment by introducing her forefinger between her rosy lips. Maum Ratley saw her and spoke : » How de"? " Melinda devoured the earth with her eyes. "Seen Joe?" " He ! he ! " "Marrit ter Joe?" " He ! he ! " "Wher's Joe?" " Yan! " whispered Melinda, pointing over her shoulder in the direction she came. " Joe told yer to ter come? " "Yees, told I ter come." " Marrit." " He ! he ! " " Marrit be yer? " "Yees! he! he!" murmured 'Lindy, still (iovQuring tbe earth with her eyes. 28 BRISTLING WITH THORNS The mother-in-law pointed to the decayed door sill and uttered one word, " Set." Melinda sat down, twining the bonnet strings nervously about her fingers. Mrs. Ratley entered the cabin and brought out an iron skillet, a tin pan, a gourd, two battered knives, and a sack containing about a half bushel of grits, and laid them down at the girl's feet. Melinda looked at them, inventoried them in her mind, ran them over again and again. There seemed to be something missing. At last her wandering thoughts grasped it. " Kiver," she whispered, without looking up. "Eh?" " Kiver ! " A little louder. Mrs. Ratley removed the corn-cob pipe long enough to say, "Quilt kiver?" " Yees ! '' " I done tolt Joe tu git yer ! " " Ther kiver " murmured Melinda. "Eh?" " Joe done tolt I." "Him did?" " En he done tolt dad." "Him did?" • " Yees ! " " Him hain't no bug eatah, ain't Joe." " He ! he ! " " He-um a peart un, him be!" snorted the exultant mother. " He ! he ! " "An' him tolt Zeek?" " Yees, he-um tolt dad." Mrs. Ratley ran her fingers into her frowsy hair, rubbed a few minutes vigorously. Tlie sought idea touched her dirty finger tips, she strode past Melinda into the cabin, and returned in a few moments with a faded, tattered and filthy bed cover, which she added to Melinda's store of riches. As soon as the cover was laid down the girl stood up, threw the quilt over her shoulder, opened the sack, thrust the tin pan, THE TWO TOADS. 29 gourd and knives into the grits, gave the neck of the sack a twist, landed it' on her shoulder on top of the quilt, seized the skillet in the vacant hand, and without a word walked away. When Melinda returned to her new home, thereafter to be known as the Ratley cabin, Joe was seated on the door log, his clasped hands holding his long legs up to his chin. A vacant grin illuminated his face as Melinda trudged past through the cabin door and laid her burden in the center of the floor. " Git 'em." " Ther be." " Seen maum? " " Yees." " Powful good." « Yees." " She-um tolt I ter git yer." ' " Yees." "Gitkiver?" " Ther be." " Maum yowl." " No! " " Powful good maum." Having reached this point Joe noticed Melinda. With his left hand against the side of his head, the ends of his fingers began a violent rooting for a thought. Slowly it came to him. Melinda was washed. Flushed with the walk and the load, her purified skin looked beautiful. It dawned on Jxte. " Lindy! dad fetched you's pooty." "He! he!" " Pooty ez a spotted hoss, yo' be." "He! he!" " Ther's the ax." Melinda looked, saw the ax, took it in her hand, went out, chopped an armful of wood, and, by the aid of the flint which Joe carried, a glowing fire was soon streaming up the soot-coated chimney. While Melinda was building the fire Joe cleaned two squirrels. These he had shot while Melinda procured their 39 BRISTLING WITH THORNS. household treasures of his mother. The ax he had fished out of a hollow tree, where he had hidden it long ago. He found it in the road, where it had probably been dropped from a passing wagon, and concealed it for use when he migiit need it. That and a gun, with which Joe was an ex- pert, were his only treasures. The gun was drawn from the loft of the cabin, where he hid it when on his hunt for a wife. The tree was disemboweled of tlie ax, and Joe, with his gun and ax, with tlie stores from " Maum " Ratley, and a wife, was rich. Thus they began life. Deer, bears and squirrels were numerous in the surround- ing forests, and tiie occasions were rare when there was any lack of an abundant supply of meat in the cabin. The peltries of deer, wolves, cougar and wild cats which frequently fell victims of Joe's unerring aim, supplied him with powder, whisky, which he called "cawn juice," the scant clothing they both used, and the scantier store goods which at rare intervals entered their hovel. As they began they continued. Such manual labor as was performed Melinda did. She planted sweet potatoes, corn and tobacco, and tended them. Wood-chopping, digging, planting and hoeing was her work. The women did that work at the home of her childhood. Melinda came to her new home with this training strong upon her. It was the only life she knew. It was ingrained by years, by practice, by observation. She was penetrated by no thoughts of hardship. Resistance never occurred in her. " Women folks is made to hev chillun, tote wood and scratch taters." That she had heard and remembered, and in her new home she practiced. She carried wood from the beginning; hgeing potatoes and mothering children came after. THE TWO TOADS. 31 Of love there were no words or thoughts. Meliiida knew hunger and cold, and pain, and squalor, and filth. Her life had been a prolonged submission to them all. She was in their grip. She was riveted to the inexorable. Their severe pressure was on her. She suffered; she knew that; but she never thought of escape. There was no hope of better to urge her to writhe, or struggle, or protest. With her mouth in the dust she crawled. There was no room for love in her groveling surround- ings. Animalism there was. Love there was not. Love is a product of mind. Nature does not plant it. To love there must be thought and tenderness, and ca- pacity to feel. Melinda had neither. She was a human toad. Joe was another. Joe was one too many in an over-crowded nest, and was pushed out to make a nest of his own. Melinda was pushed out after him. There was no feeling in the matter. The boy needed some one to make fires, bake corn pone, fry squirrel, and be a mother to his children, and the girl was pushed away from a table where there were too many mouths for the "taters," upon the first person who was willing to take her. That Melinda mis^ht have o-rown to love a better man is possible. That she did not then or ever afterward love Joe is cer- tain. He gave her little opportunity. Married, the owner of a woman, he felt himself to be a man. He had been the companion of boys. He turned at once from the beardless to the bearded, and 32 BRISTLING WITH THORNS. to their ways, and, the second night after his wooing, came home — drunk. Was Melinda shocked? Not at all. She had seen it too frequently. Slie had shivered too many nights, perfectly nude, in the open fields, concealed from the fury and heavy hand of a drunken father, to be shocked by a drunken husband. As Joe staggered through the door, loading the still, dark air with obscene oaths, but one thought entered her mind, "Will him wallop?" and when in drunken stupor he fell prone and helpless uj3on the floor, she turned her face to the wall and went calmly to sleep. Before the first infant came, at the end of a year, these scenes had been repeated many times. She made no protest. It was possibly useless. She had never heard of a woman protesting. It never penetrated her mind that she had a duty in that direction. Even if it had, she knew no words in which to protest. She lived on in passive subjection, in hushed endurance, thankful that she escaped the heavy hand, and wondering how soon it would come. The first child came. Maternity is a double birth — a creation and a re-creation. A child born into the world; a woman born into knowl- edge. It is an upheaval. Then if there is any good in the depths of a woman's nature it is thrown to the surface and fused in the thought of motherhood. Melinda drew her babe to her breast — that was the mother instinct. She looked about the desolate ca])in and pressed the child tighter to her bosom, and said, " Poor chile! " For the first time she saw her inikodness. Her vacant mind was filling; dispersion vanished. THE TWO TOADS. 33 She began to think of the child, the misery before it, then, what would she do to remedy it — for the child. She was groping in a rayless abyss. With help she might have reached the light When the child was born, Joe was absent. The night following and the next day Joe was gone. The second night he came to the door, stumbled in and lay on the floor in a drunken stupor until late in the morn- ing. When he awoke he saw there was no fire, nothing to eat, and Melinda was in bed. He raised up, walked over to the bed, and with an oath struck her full in the face. The child mother saw the hand descending, saw it raise and fall the second time. She set her white teeth together, but she neither spoke nor flinched from the blows. Then she staggered, painfully, uncomplainingly, to the floor, lighted a fire and cooked breakfast for the beast. The babe lay wailing in the bed. The brute looked wonderingly at it until his corn bread and venison were cooked. Then he went out and Melinda went back to bed. The upheaval was useless. The groping was abandoned. The vacant mind was filling with something else. It took form. Two weeks after, when Melinda was entirely recovered, it bore fruits. Joe. came home in the night intoxicated. When he awoke in the morning he filled the room with profanity. He was bound hand and foot with thongs, and helpless. When he stirred, Melinda sat up in bed and looked at him. Looked steadily, calmly, silently; then lay down again and nursed the child. Joe's threats were multiplied; his oaths horrible. Melinda was silent and irresponsive. When the child was nursed, Melinda raised from the bed, 34 BRISTLING WITH THORNS. walked past Joe to the fire, baked a corn-cake, sat on the hearth and ate it. Then she stood up, walked to the door, went out and returned with a heavy hickory rod. Joe looked at her in amazement. The oaths died away on his lips. " 'Lindy, onlash me." " Vm gwine ter lick yer, Joe." "'Lindy?" " Yaas." '* Yer hain't gwine ter." " Yaas, Joe." " AVhat fer yer gwine ter ? " '' Fer wollopin' I." " 'Lindy ! " " Yaas, Joe." " Yo-um best git yer gone." " I hearn yer, Joe." " Ding blast yer corn-shuckin' hide ! " " Yer kickin' 'fore yer spurred, Joe." " Ef yer tech me, ding my buttons ef I doan larrup an larrup yer ! " " Joe ! " She sat down on the floor facing him, not one ray of emo- tion in her face. " Jess shet yer gabblement an' onlash these yere ! " "Joe!" " Shet an' onlash ! " "Joe!" " Dog awn — drat — " " Ef yer teches me agin — " " Yaas — ding me — yer'll see ! " " Make shoa wuck, Joe." "Eh?" " Make shoa, Joe." "Eh?" " Shoa ! " "For what, shoa?" rZE GWIXE TER LARRUP YER." 35 THE TWO TOADS. 87 " Pze boun' ter kill yer ef yer does." Her face looked infantile when she said it. "Eh?" "Ef yer don't kill I next wallopin', Pze boun' ter kill yer, Joe. Boun' ter." Still the infantile look was upon her. Then she stood up. Joe looked on the girl surprised. For the first time in his worthless life he was awed. If Melinda had wept or blustered. If she had been a scream cat, ruffling her back, Joe could have understood it. But to sit there beside him with a heavy rod in her hand and speak to him so softly, without a trace of passion or anger, that was beyond his feeble comprehension. Then Melinda spoke to him again. He was lying on the floor, face up. " I'ze a gwine ter turn yer." "Fer what?" " I'ze gwine ter larrup yer." Then she turned him over and rained blows upon him while he whined like a whipped cur. Hearing the child cry, Melinda paused in her work, went over to the child, took it in her arms, nuTsed it, soothed it, laid it down in bed, then again raised the rod and returned to Joe, who during all the time she was nursing had begged and entreated to be released. The girl was deaf. She was immovable. She was destiny. Again she showered vigorous blows upon the quivering back, and hips, and limbs, until the oaths died away in tears and prayers; until she had given him the full measure of her resolve. Then she turned away from him to the child. During all the long day Joe lay prostrate on the floor with- out either food or drink. To all his entreaties for release or sustenance Melinda re- turned only silence. Not one syllable passe.d her lips. As the sun was drop- 38 BRISTLING WITH THORNS. ping down behind the trees in the valley Melinda stooped over him and comnienced to undo the thongs that held him. As she did she said: ''Joe, ef yer beats me, make shoa — mind yer, make shoa. " She asked no assurances, made no bargains, but lapsed in- to silence and unbound the thongs. Joe attempted to rise, but his cramped limbs refused their office. He sat up, and asked for a drink of water; this Melinda brought him. For an instant a malignant light came into his blood-shot, milky eyes, but under the calm, unflinching gaze of the girl who stood before him it faded, faded slowly away— died out, never to return. He was conquered and cowed. If the girl had then known her power — then known what use to have made of it, how dif- ferent it would have been. Joe never attempted to beat Melinda after that. Otherwise there was no change in their lives. The cabin grew filthier; the clay chinking frayed out from between the logs; the rain and storm beat in. Melinda effortless and her children helpless, were in the abyss. The abyss was a cesspool. Tt was to the door of this house of misery that Walter Trenhom rode to secure a "Confederate hero. " IN SEARCH OF A RECRUIT. 39 CHAPTER IV. IN SEARCH OF A RECRUIT. When Trenhom' rode up to the door Ratley was sitting near it, on the ground, with his back against the logs of the cabin. A drab slouch hat was pulled over his eyes to shut out the rays of the setting sun; his long legs, ending in dirty bare feet were stretched at full length upon the parched and unswarded earth. Hearing the horse's hoof beat, he looked up and saw Trenhom. Then Trenhom spoke : "Howd'e, Joe ?" " Peert eend up." " Beautiful evening." " Yaas." "Pleasant lately." "Yaas, sence hit fair'd up." " How are you getting on ? " " Waal, hit's sorter 'twixt hay and grass." " Game plenty ? " " They's owdacious scace." " How's the children ? " " Scrawny." "Sick?" " Dogawned ef I don't disremembah. They's a powful harryment, chillen is." Hearing the voices outside, Melinda stood in the door. Trenhom had never seen her before. He saw her now at dis- advantage. She wore but one garment, a faded calico gown, longer than the one in which she was married, but fully as foul and tattered. If it had been constructed to display her supple form it served the purpose admirably. It outlined every curve of her body. Six years had changed Melmda but little. 40 BRISTLIXG WITH THORNS. At twenty-two most of the women of her class were sallow, wrinkled and old. Snuif dipping and " cawn juice " grind quickly. In such a mill youth, beauty and roundness vanish rap- idly. But Melinda neither used tobacco nor whisky. She was the one " low down " woman in that whole region who did not. The rosiness of sixteen was on her cheeks, the same round- ness in her face, and her wealth of tangled nut brown hair yet flowed over her back and shoulders. A child was nursing at her breasts when she heard the voices. Laying it down, she appeared in the doorway as the child left her when it abandoned its life-giving food. Trenhom looked upon her exposed bosom, on her lithe, supple form, on her rounded cheeks, on her tangled web of hair, and he thought, " what a picture of filthy beauty." He touched his hat and addressed her : " Good evening." " Even," she responded. Not a muscle of her bod}- moved. She stood with wide open eyes. Her mouth was closed and there was an imperceptible motion of her lips; that was all. And this was the first white gentleman that ever stood be- fore her cabin door, or ever addressed her. "Children well ?" *' Yees." " Any ague ? " " No." " I see you've some corn in." " Yees." "Doing well?" " No great scratches." '* It looks well." ** Hit's mighty nigger'd out Ian'." " It looks as if it might make a fair crop." *' Hit do once an' agin." "I came to see Joe." "Yees; ther him." IN SEAECH OF A RECRUIT. 41 " I see; I want him to join my company." "Yees." "I suppose you have no objections." " Eh ! " " I suppose you don't care." « No." Still she stood motionless. Joe had risen to his feet and stood leaning against the cabin. "You'll join, Joe?" "What?" " My company." '* What com'ny ? " " My cavalry company." " Critter company ? " " Yes." "Whatfer?" " The war." " What waah ? " " Haven't you heard ?" "Heern?" " Yes." " A waah ! Fouten ? " " Yes." " Hier ? " " No, not here; in the Carolinas and Virginia." '^Whah's'um?" '' Way off east and north." '^Fer"?" ' Yes, hundreds of miles away." '' Who's um wid ? " " With the abolitionists." " Who's um ? " '•' The Yankies." " Dad rat the Yanks." " Miserable abolition creatures." '' Yaas." *' Their tyranny has become unsupportable." 42 BRISTLING AVITH THORNS. " Eh ! " " They are putting on too many airs." ** Yaas ; rot their corn shuckin' hides." " You know they have elected Lincohi president ?" " Yaas ! I heern he'um a dratted mulatter. " " And they are determined to abolitionize the country an emancipate our slaves." " Eh ? " " They are going to free the niggers." " Make nifrirah uns free ? " " Yes." " No mastahs ? " " No." " No dawgs to houn' um ? " " No." *'No.lickin'?" '* No." " Ding my buttons, an' ther gwine ter do that ?" " Yes, sure." " Great snakes an' gawl ! Make 'um triflin' niffsfah uns free, an' no lickin, no mastahs, an' no houn's ? " " Yes, that's what they are after." " An' let niggah uns gwan loose roun' ? ' " "Yes." " Like we uns ? " "Yes." "An' not boun' to git outen er road an' tech 'im hat to we all white gen'lmen ?" " Exactly. That is what they'll do.'' " Great snakes an' gawl ! " " You know we have captured Sumter ?" " No-o-o ! " " Yes we have ! " " Shoa ? " " Yes, sure." " By gawl ! " Joe brought his broad red hand down with emphasis on his thigh. " Yee'd ort to fotch 'um up to Burty's, gi'um a hundred on his bar back, an' burn 'um wi' a slow fiah. IN SEARCH OF A RECRUIT. 43 Dratted bug eatin' coot, thet hain*t none too seveigrous fer 'um." " And you'll join my company ? " Trenholm smiled and replied interrogatively. "For roun' hier ?" " No, for the seat of war." "Offther in 'Jinny." " Somewhere there. The opinion is that the real seat of war will be in Virginia." " And there'll be rail fouten ? " "The opinion is that Yankees will never dare face South- ern gentlemen." " Yaas they uns 'ull squall like houn's." " Many of our wisest people think that. But there may be fighting." " Down airnest rail fouten ?" " Yes. It may be that the spirit of the revolution has not been devoured by their greed of gain ; that it may survive ; that they may prove foemen worthy of our steel, of whom we shall win our laurels only by superlative heroism. It may be that the conflict now begun may prove the most desperate and deadly cut and thrust, with cannon, rifle and sabre, of the century. But I do not think so. Our leading people do not think so." .loe stood looking at Trenhom in open-mouthed wonder. One-half of this flow of words was beyond his comprehension. But he gathered this much out of it, there might be real shoot- ing, man against man. Whon Trenhom paused Joe's dirty finger tips sought his scalp, and, after a moment's scratching, he said : " Kunnell, ter bleege you, I don't mine jinin', hif ther crit- ter com'ny is ter liter roun' hier." " But it is not ; it's to go east and north." .loe shook his head. " The pay will be good and certain ? " " Yaas." " And you will join ? " " Don't see as how I kin." 44 BRISTLING WITH THORNS. " You are surely not afraid ? " " I haint the skeery sort o' a cracklin'." " Why not join then ? " " Waal, yer see hi'm shackelty like, an' ther's the woman an' cliillun." Trenhom's gaze was riveted on " the woman," standing silent and statuesque in the doorway, the soft evening breeze sweeping her light calico covering close about her shapely limbs, flinging them out in bold relief for the admiration of his wondering eyes. Trenhom was not ignorant of " low down life " around him. He had never penetrated one of the outcast homes, but he had seen the men, lazy, loutish, idle and shiftless, and he had, in passing along the roads, seen the women drawing the water, cutting and carrying the wood, plowing, seeding, hoeing, harvesting — however little or much was done — while the men roamed the forest with a gun on their shoulders and a dog at their heels, or lay in drunken stupor about the cross-roads groceries ; and he had seen enough of Joe to know that he was neither better nor worse than his class. He was a "low down," " a cracker," a " sand- hiller," '* pore white trash," with all their beastly instincts, deo;raded habits, discrownins: of women, and disres^ard for their families. When Joe appealed to his family Trenhom would have turned away. An anomaly had crept into his life. In all his experience the slave and the poor white lay prostrate in the dust grovelling — a lash on the back of one, a heel on the neck of the otlier — both equally cringing, fawning and submissive. Now he had been refused by a "low down." A toad eater had dared to think. A parasite had found audacity to say no. He would have turned away in anger and disgust, but he remained. He was in the power of the grotesque. A paradox held him. Joe's mummery for refusal was so a])surd Trenhom would "WISH'T I WERE A. SLABE.'" IN SEARCH OF A RECRUIT. 47 have laughed. He only smiled, and turned to the statue in the doorway. He had resolved that Joe should be his first re- cruit. " I have been asking Joe to join my cavalry company." "Yees!" Her voice was soft, low and musical, and but for its atrocious patois^ would have been delicious. " And go away to the war ? " " Yees ! " "Are you willing that he should go ?" "Yees"!" " He says he must stay here to take care of you and the children." " Him needn't ter." " You will get along very well with him gone ? " " Yees. " " And you are quite willing to have him go ? " "Yees." " That's patriotic." "Eh?" " You are looking at the matter in the proper light." " Reckon." " I'll speak to Mrs. Trenhom about you." "Whobeshe-um?" " My wife." " Yer don't needn't ter." " She will see that you want for nothing." " Reckon I kin scrape." " If all the women of the South are like you, we will pre- serve the institution of slavery from the Northern vandals." "Eh?" "I say if all our women are like you, we will preserve our country from the oppressions of Northern tyrants and save our slaves." "Wish't I wer a slabe." "What?" " Wish't I was a niggah slabe." " You ?" exclaimed Trenhom in a tone of surprise. " Yees." 4 48 BRISTLING WITH THORNS. " You have children ? " " Yees." "And them slaves?'' " Yees." She spoke deliberately, calmly, without motion of hand or body, with no tinge of passion or emotion in her voice. Her words were a dead level of soft notes. Trenhom looked at her in amazement, then exclaimed : " Great heavens ! " He believed that slavery was of Divine origin. That it was the highest plane on which the subordinate class could be planted. And yet when a woman, whose life was lower than that of the slaves, whose comforts were less, whose degrada- tion was deeper, deliberately announced that she envied the slaves, he was shocked. Again the impulse was on him to ride away, but he turned to Joe. "Well, Joe, you hear what your wife says." " Yaas." " She is willing for you to go." " I heern." " You'll go, of course." "Women's pizen critters; they-um don't never know nuthin'." " I think yours knows what she is about." " Mout be." " I shall put your name down." " I'm shackelty, kunnel. Shackelty." "You'll do." "Hain't worth a chitterling when I'ze ther shakes." " You haven't the ague now ?" " They-um be snaglin long ter-morer." " Then you will not go." " I'd like ter 'bleege yer, kunnel." " But you will not go ? " " I'd like ter 'bleege yer like all wrath. I wud." Trenhom, in disgust, turned his horse and rode away in the dim twilight. His mind at first was full of disgust at the evic^.ent cowardice of .Toe. Then rose up before him the IN SEARCH OF A RECRUIT. 49 phantom of the woman who wished she was a slave. What must her life have been ? What horrors had she endured ? What storms of abasement and suffering had beat upon her that she would in those calm, low, musical tones, wish that she, too, and her children, were chattels to be owned and bought and sold ? When he had thought of the words his mind became per- vaded with the woman, with her perfect figure, and her face that had not yet been seared by the scorching iron passed over it. Privation is a sharp graver. It carves deep and strong. But here was a face of resistance. For twenty-two years the graver had harrowed the surface and not made a scratch. When the ensemble of the woman — her life and appear- ance — occurred to him, he was startled. If Melinda had been homely, then and there she would have stepped out of his mind forever. The autocracy of beauty held her there. When Trenhom had departed, Joe returned to his pipe and louno-e ao-ainst the loo;s. For a few moments wanderino- thoughts of "Lindy" flitted through his vacant brain. " She wanted fer me ter gwan ; " yes, she " wanted fer me ter gwan;" but before bedtime this had disappeared; without inquiry as to why or wherefore, without regret or thought of regret, without feeling, or self-condemnation, disappeared, was forgotten, and his dull brain lapsed again to vacancy. When he shouldered his rifle in the morning, even Trenhom and his proposal and the war had slipped out of his mind. All about him, on the highways and bye-ways, men were whispering, muttering, gathering. Joe sauntered listlessly oft' into the forest, a gun on his shoulder, a dog at his heels, gazed into the trees as he loitered along, pausing and listening for " game sounds," then sank down between the gnarled, uplifted roots of a huge tree, drew out his corn-cob and rested until rest passed into slumber. On the highways, and at the country cross-road, trees blossomed with placards ; every 50 BRISTLING WITH THOKXS. blossom a proclamation, enrollments here, enlistments there. Infantry, artillery, and cavalr}-. The cross-road groceries overflowed with men brave and determined ; with blusterers strutting and swaggering ; the air fetid with vaporing, gasconade and profanity. "Van- dais," "assassins, " " nigger-lovers," -' miscegenationists." Billino-sorate turned ag-ainst the nation. Where populations were dense companies filled instantly ; but in districts where it required one-third or more of all the arms-bearing people to fill a company, there was more delay. Enlistments were rapid until all the martial, adventurous and reckless were enrolled ; then dragged at snail pace. The country gathered each day to witness the parade of gleaming arms, the tramp and evolutions of '* Tigers," of " Alligators," of " Yankee Exterminators." The novelty was exciting. The fife and drum were exhilarating. The " cawn-juice" was abundant. They hurrahed for the "Exterminators;" cheered for " Mass-si-sip," for the confederacy, for " Jeff." cursed all "Yanks" and their " mulatter president," and returned to their homes drunk. It was so much easier to hoot and get fuddled than it was to sustain the fatigues of a campaign, the restraints of military rule, or the brunt of battle. The first " rat-tat-tat " reached Joe's ears. He went with the others. With hands in pockets he stood and gaped. When tired of standing he lay lounging against a tree and gaped wider. " Licker ! " "Yaas." He never refused. He swallowed, drew the back of his red hand across his face, and lounged for the next invitation. Drums, bugles and banners ; declamations and decanters ; pulpits and petticoats did their work but slowly in Joe's neighborhood. IN SEARCH OF A RECRUIT. 51 It drawled. The " fire-eaters " were amazed, then indignant. They had expected the poor white population to flock en masse to their standards. They did, but not under them. The glory crowd were en- rolled ; all to whom patriotism, honor, love of adventure could appeal were already enlisted, but that was not enough. Companies were yet hungry for men, their stomachs not half full. With wide open insatiate mouths they pounced upon the gaping crowd. They coaxed and punctured, taunted and lured. Every device of cunning was applied to secure the full complement of men. Joe was approached. " Hed ter keer fer the woman." He was plied with gibes and whisky, and he answered back : " Hed ter keer fer the woman." Drunk or sober there always remained with him sense enough to maunder that set phrase, until he sank in speech- less stupor. Joe detested the Yankee, He said he did, and he did so far as he was capable of despising anything. Even the most degraded despise something or somebody. There is always a lower round to the ladder. Joe looked upon the Yankee as the lower round. But his contempt or hatred, for both at times took fitful shape in his feeble brain, were not strong enough to drag him to the mouth of Yankee rifles. But Joe was a moth, a miller. He would flit about the flame. He was a chip, safe in slack water. Hung up by the shore in the dead he might have remained. To appeals of honor he was deaf. To love of country irresponsive. From orlorv he would have fled. 52 BRISTLING WITH THORNS. But the " grists o' fun," the "cawn juice," the " hi-low- Jack," "nigger equality," and the "Yank yaapin' and an' lunnin' like a houn' " with "nary fight in a bilin' of 'em," which he heard in the camp, were things that appealed to his passions and desires. Flung into the strong current, he was caught up and hurled away to the muster roll, where he made his mark. On the long list every name except seven had over against it an X and " his mark." Joe was enlisted. He was a soldier of the Confeder- acy. The boys slapped him on the back, gave three cheers for Joe, three more and a tiger for the Confederacy, and — pro- duced their flasks. The fire burned low on the Ratley hearth — the little ones lay and breathed softly, lost to chill, discomfort and dirt. Melinda sat watching the flame spirting, flinging up its golden tongues from behind the green back log, then hiding away in the gloom; watched until the flame and flare died out, then she covered the glowing coals in the hot ashes, lay down beside the children and — calmly slept. The morrow dawned — and the morrow after — day followed day, and Joe came not. A camp was formed when Joe enlisted. He joined it at once. He ate and slept and drank and carded. At the end of ten days there was bustle, confusion, hurry, partings, cheers and tears. An hundred men stood in the road. A drum and fife, a flag — tramp! tramp! tramp! Some beat back tlie rising lumps in their throats, turned their faces over their shoulders and looked — looked eagerly — longingly, for the last time. Others looked steadily or indifi'erently ahead. Among them was Joe. From the day he enlisted he had neither seen, heard from or sent word to Melinda. IN SEARCH OF A RECRUIT. 53 Without a message, without a tear, without a thought, he marched on, tramp, tramp, tramp. A cloud of dust rose up behind him, the grocery, the* camp — all familiar scenes disappeared. He was swallowed up in the gray passion-crested sea that lashed against the Union. 04 liKlSTLlNU WITH THORNS. CHAPTER V. The sun had already passed from sight, leaving its trail of soft twilight, when Walter Trenhom turned from " the road and rode under the shadows of the slender shafted tulip poplars, crowned with gorgeous, flame-colored, bell-shaped flow^ers, that lined the broad carriage-way through his expan- sive grounds, up to* his door. Before he had passed half the distance an aged colored man stood in the roadway a few yards in advance of the steps leading up to the porch, and called: ''Hi, dah, you Pete!" «Yi-i." " Dat de way t' ansah youm bettahs! " No response from Pete. '•Owdashus, sassy, Ic.zy niggah! Sprv you'seff up dah!" " He I is." Pete turned a hand-spring, landing on his feet, the crown of his uncovered kinky head grazing the rotund stomach of Uncle Awk. Uncle Awk cuffed Pete, pronounced liiin a lazy, " no 'count, triflin' monkey niggah," and wound up by notify- ing him to "'spect his bettahs," and "mine youm mannalis foah Mawst Walt." Awk started in life with a better name. Originally he was Plutarch. His earliest teeth cut out the first three letters. The next letter was dropped among the cotton bolls before he found his first pair of breeches. Thus he had blossomed into "Ark," broadened by the southern tongue into "Awk." Pete was yet rubbing liis.ears when his master rode up; then he sprang to the bridle. Awk, who was hatless, touched the grizzled locks over his forehead, looked the warm beast over, and asked: " I WAS A DALTON; I- AM A TRENHOM. 55 '' How um git?" " Very free," replied his master. " Dats um, fine crittah dat — fine crittah dat." " I rode from. Burty's — " " What dat, Maws Walt? Youm bin ter Burty with dis yere cole! " " Why yes, I rode him there, and as he is back, I rather think I rode him back." Awk was standing with his legs wide apart, his head set well back, his hands raised. " Foa de Lawd, Maws Walt, you rain yoursef widout Awk. Yes, sah." Trenhom laughed. "Youm doan know nuffin 'bout hoss crittah, sah. No, sah." "What hurt will it do him?" "Hurt, sah! Hurt, sah. Dat cole got no mo leg dan a baby, sah. No, sah." " He did very well." " Cole like dat good fo' shawt, sah; dat's it, sah, good fo' shawt. Heah, you done bin ride him ten mile, sah." "That isn't much." " How you tawk, sah. Youm doan kno' no mo' 'bout hoss crittah dan de yan leel baby o' you'n, sah; no, sah." Walter laughed again at the zeal of the old man. " Ride dat cole ten mile — san' road at dat. Who ebbah heah sich foolishness; I nebbah done heah de like." "Look at him, Uncle Awk; see how fresh he is. He isn't injured in the least." "Injah! He done roonationed, dat cole is. I can't hab dat no mo', sah." "All right, Uncle. I won't do so any more." "Dat you shan', sah! no, sah! Clah ter goodness, ten mile in de san' road. Dah, you, Pete. Go keeaful wid 'im — lazy, no 'count, niggah. Hab Jack bine 'im leg wid flannen; bine um tite, yer heah? Ten mile in a san' road," and he stood watching the colt disappear around the corner of the house, muttering, " ten mile in de san' road, clah ter good- 56 BRISTLING WITH THORNS. ness." When the horse had passed from view he turned to his master, who was being dusted by a colored boy. Here was a fresh trial for Awk. " 'Clar," he exclaimed, " ef dese yah growin niggahs ain't mo' igranteh dan muels. Dat dey is. Yeah you Sam. What youm doin' wid dat yeeh wiss. Bushiii youm mawstah up an' down like a hoss. Doan you know mo' an dat. Heah (taking the broom), dis yeah way. You see you Uncle Awk. Mine now dis yeeh ! see dat ! Doun, dat's it ! Saff, dats de way ; not hawd as ef yez scurrin' de bun cruss from cawn pone. Saff ! like dis yeer. Yer see dat ? Wid de grain — so ! yer see dat. Den yer hain't done pushin' de dirt into de nap. 'Clar ter goodness ef I can lawn dese yeeh ignoramus niggahs nuffin ; muss do eberyting myseff tell I'ze 'clar done use up.'' Mrs. Walter Trenhom, hearing the footfalls of the horse, and the voice of uncle Awk in front of the house, came out from the parlor, and stood in the doorway, an amused specta- tor of a scene repeated every time Master Walter rode out and returned. Mrs. Walter was a Southern woman, born in Mississippi. A daughter of one of the oldest, best known and most influ- ential families in the state. Her father had represented his district several times in congress and died full of years and honors. At eighteen Louise Dalton was a wife. At twenty she stood in the doorway of her luxurious home watching uncle Awk teach the art of dusting. She was a grand look- ing woman standing there, her face wreathed with smiles, her large, moist, violet blue eyes sparkling with light. Mrs. Walter was a blonde, of medium height, broad, low forehead, straight, firm nose, an honest, liberal mouth, beautiful white teeth, and a form cast in a generous mold without a super- fluous particle of flesh about her. She was a healthy, whole- souled looking woman. If there was anything small, or mean, or selfish in her nature, there was nothing in her outward ap- pearance to betray it. As Walter placed his foot on the lower step of the stoop to go up, his wife advanced to the foot of the veranda to meet him. Throwing her arm about him and cooing in his ear, they crossed the veranda, passed through "I WAS A dalton; I am a trenhom." 57 the door, and entered the broad hall that ran from front to rear of their home. Awk, watching his master's receding form, muttered: " Sumpshus niggah ; good enough to clean tatah fo' pore white trash — idee he wiss gen'l'man like Maws Walt, clah ! " After Walter had changed his clothes and they were seated at the tea table, he spoke of the news at Burty's — the '' fall of Sumter." "Can it be possible?" said his wife in a voice that be- trayed her deep agitation. " Not a doubt of it." He looked up, and to his surprise saw that her eyes were filled with tears. "Why, Lou!" he exclaimed. " Let us not speak of it now, dear. After tea — all too soon then." She had heard none of the details ; only Sumter had fallen. But that was more than enough. The conversation drifted to the state of the weather, the roads, the illness in "servants' quarters," and finally to Awk and that abused colt. After tea they retired to the library, Walter lighted a cigar, threw himself back in his easy chair, and -Mrs. Walter, after a visit to her babe, came and sat on a low stool by his side. Then Walter told his wife all he had heard of the bombard- ment and fall of Sumter as it came to him at Burty's. The wife listened in silence; she wondered at the enthusiasm with which he told it, and the transparent delight the narration gave him. Her clasped hands grew closer together, the warm glow fled away from her cheeks, and the glad light stole out of her eyes. Walter failed to notice it. He was enveloped in the smoke of burning Sumter, saw nothing, heard nothing, thouo-ht of nothino* but that and the o-lowino- words in which he was painting the scene on the mind of his listening wife. When he concluded he blew a fresh cloud from his fragrant Havana, the blue aromatic wreath circled his head. Then his wife spoke, slowly, pathetically. " I am grieved and — surprised." 58 BRISTLING WITH THORNS. "You know, Lou, that our people were building assailing batteries." "Yes, dear." " And that the assault had been threatened for some time." " But I did not think it would proceed so far. I believed in the power of that better judgment which sometimes springs out of delay." " Then you thought the Yankees would run away in the night without fighting. So did I." " No, Walter, that was not it." " Didn't think they would run away? You thought they would surrender when they were convinced of the determina- tion of our gallant friends ? " " Not that either." " I give it up, Lou. You who have always been the soul of transparency are wrapped in a mist too deep for poor me." "Not intentionally, dear. My belief was that our South- ern friends would not proceed to the extremity of violent re- sistance to the government." Walter's legs were crossed, he was leaning, rather lying back in his chair. When his wife's full meaning penetrated his mind, his legs were uncrossed, he sat bolt upright and with wide open eyes, looked down in amazement at the woman who sat there telling liim she did not believe South Carolina would hurl shot and shell at the Union. For an instant it appeared as if he doubted tlie evidence of his ears. Yet these were the words. She did not believe, and— this was his wife — a woman Southern born and bred, who did not believe that the South would cross arms with the Union. "Surely you do not believe the gallant men of South Carolina are cowards ? " " Indeed no, they are gallant and brave like all true South- ern gentlemen." "Well, Lou, I confess—" " I know your opinions, dear, and the opinions of all our personal friends. I have heard them in our parlors, over our tables, over the tables of our friends, at all the social gather- "l WAS A DALTON; I AM A TRENHOil." 59 ings we have attended during the past year, and I do not con- cur in them or approve them." " And you have remained silent all this time ?" " Yes, dear ; I thought it was an entirely harmless ebul- lition of feeling, a sort of political spasm that needed but time for a physician, and I would not invite discussion and conten- tion with my husband about a matter that I supposed to be of no consequence." " Surely the right to secede and the right to resist are of some consequence." " Perhaps ! I am not a success, you know, at chopping words, but it occurred to me if secession and resistance were never put to the test, it made no difference whether the abstract right, I think that is what I have heard you call it, did or did not exist. And fully believing it never would be tested, I remained mute." " You astonish me ; indeed you do, Lou ! " " By having remained silent ? " " Something at that ; but more that you do not detest the government of the United States." She raised from her low cushioned seat, stood up beside him, placed her soft, white hand on his shoulder, and, looking calmly into his face, said in words that were almost reverential in their tone : " My dear husband, we have never known the government of the United States except through its blessing." *■' That is the past, Lou ! The past. When the govern- ment was controlled by the Southerners — when the South was the government — when the South ruled it, as it did for sixty out of seventy years of its existence."* " I do not know enough of politics. Waiter, to know who ruled it. But the blessing my grandfather and my father knew, and I and you know." "I don't deny, Lou, the blessings of the past. It is the future we are looking to and guarding." " When these blessings are threatened it will be time enough." *Reply of Senator Hammond to Senator Seward in the United States senate. 60 BRISTLING WITH THORNS. "They are threatened, and now." " How, dear ? '' " Don't you know that the North has elected the Presi- dent ? That the election is purely geographical ? That the South will have no voice in the acovernment. That the