Part 7 (1/2)

”Didn't dem white folks scatter quick? I tell yer, Aunt Becky, it done me good all over to see 'em so fl.u.s.trated,” and he burst into a loud guffaw.

”When sumpin don' go to suit de Templetons, dey'll paw dirt, dey'll do it, every time, frum ole marster down to de baby one. Whut did Miss Vine say about it?”

”Well,” said Becky, ”lemme tell yer 'bout Miss Vine; de fust thing she done arter I bounced in en tole de news--she gathered up de spoons en forks, en dem silver tumblers, en sich, belonging to ole Mis', en den she look 'roun' en seed de men wus all gone; den she clinched her teeth, en des doubled up her fis', she did, en shuck it t'wards dat big ole boat es she come puffin' en blowin' up de river, wid de great big cannons a-sticken outen her sides, en des a-swarmin' all over wid de blue-coats, en says she: 'Dern you infernal black souls! I wish to Gawd every one of you was drownded in de bottom of de river.'”

”Lord!” said Monroe, catching his breath, ”now didn't she cuss?”

”Yes, sirree! she did dat; en so would you, en me,” said Becky.

”But she's white,” said the man. ”I don't keer ef she is; ain't white folks got feelin's same as we is?” asked Becky. ”No,” said Monroe, ”dey ain't; some of um is mighty mean, yes, a heap of 'em.”

”Yo cayn't set down here and 'buse Miss Vine,” said Becky, ”we're 'bleeged to gib her de praise. Ef its 'fo' her face or 'hine her back, um boun' to say it; she's de feelin'est creetur, de free-heartedest, de most corndescendin'est young white 'oman, I ever seed in all my life,--fer a fac'. But when she done _so_”--here Becky shook her fist in imitation of Vine's pa.s.sionate outbreak, en said dat I done tole yer, Miss Eliza put in en spoke up she did, en says she, 'Laviney, yo must certinly forgit yo is er lady!' Whew! Miss Vine never heerd her. 'Twan't no use fer n.o.body to say nuthin'. I tell you dat white gal rared en pitched untwel she bust into be bitteres' cry yo ever heerd in yo life. She said dem devils warn't satisfied wid killin' her Paul, en makin' her a lonesome widder, but here dey comes agin, jes' as she were joyin' herse'f, jes' es she were takin'

a little plesyure, here dey comes a knockin' uv it all in de haid, en spillin' de fat in de fire.

”I was sorry for de chile, fer it was de Gawd's trufe she spoke, so I comes back in heah, I did, en got some of dat strong coffee I dun saved for yo en me, en I het a cupful an brung it to her. 'Here, honey,' says I, 'drink dis fer yo Becky, en d-o-n't cry no mo', dat's my good baby!' She wipe up her eyes, en stop cryin', she did, en drunk de coffee. Dar I was, down on my knees, jes' facin' of her, and she handed back de cup. 'Twas one er ole Mis' fine chaney cups. 'Dat's yo, honey,' says I, 'you musn't grieve!' en I was er pattin' of her on de lap, when she tuck a sudden freak, en I let yo know she ups wid dem little foots wid de silver shoes on, en she kicked me spang over, broadcast, on de flo'.

”Den ole Miss Lizer, she wall her eyes at Miss Vine, en say, 'Laviney, um 'stonished to see yo ax so.' She mout as well er hilt her mouf--fer it didn't do dat much good,” said Becky, snapping her fingers. ”Den arter er while, Miss Vine seed me layin' dar on de floor en she jumped up she did, en gin me her two han's to pull me up. I des knowed I was too heavy for her to lif, but I tuck a holt of her, en drug her down in my lap en hugged her in my arms, pore young thing! Den I jes' put her down e-a-s-y on de hath-rug, 'fo' de fire, en kiver her up wid a shawl. Den I run up-sta'rs en fotch a piller, en right dar on de foot of de bed she had done laid out dat spangly tawlton dress, en I des knowed she wus gwine to put it on, en dance de Highlan' fling dis very ebenin'. Can't she out-dance de whole river anyhow?” said Becky.

”Oh!” said Monroe, ”I don't 'spute dat. I love to see her in her brother Frank's close a-jumpin' up to my fiddle! den she bangs a circus--dat she do!”

Becky continued her narration: ”I comes back en lif's her head on de piller, en pushed up the chunks to men' de fire, en lef' her dar sobbin'

herself down quiet.” Becky sighed and went on: ”I tell yo, man, when dat little creetur dar in de house takes a good start--yo cayn't hole her, n.o.body nee'n' to try; you cayn't phase her I tell you. En dar's Beth, she's gwine be jes' sich er nother--I loves dat chile too! She don't feature her mar neither, 'ceppen her curly head.

”But dis won't do me. Less go up frum here, Monroe. Yo make up a light, en less go to de hen-house en ketch a pasel of dem young chickens, en put 'em in de coop. I wants to brile one soon in de mawnin' en take it to Miss Vine wid some hot co'n cakes. She's used to eatin' when she fust wakes up, en um gwine to have sumpen ready fer her, fer I give you my word, dey ain't de fust Gawd's bit er nuthin 'tall lef' frum dat ar' dinner party.”

CHAPTER X.

OUR FEDERAL FRIENDS AND THE COLORED BROTHER.

The bewilderment of the negroes in the great social upheaval that came with peace was outdone by that of the white people. The conditions of the war times had been peaceable and simple compared with the perplexities of existence now precipitated upon us. The Confederacy's 175,000 surrendered soldiers--and these included the last fifteen-year-old boy--were scattered through the South, thousands of them disabled for work by wounds, and thousands more by ill-health and ignorance of any other profession than that of arms. The Federal soldiers garrisoned all important places. A travesty of justice was meted out by a semi-civil military authority.

Every community maintained an active skirmish-line against the daily aggressions of the freedmen and the oppressions of the military arm. Large sums were paid by citizens to recover property held by the enemy; and, for a time, the people paid a per cent. out of every dollar to the revenue office for a permit to spend that dollar at stores opened by Yankees--our only source of supply.

Few persons had property readily convertible into greenbacks, and Confederate money was being burned or used by the bale to paper rooms in the home of its possessor. No man knew how to invest money that had escaped the absorption of war, and when he did invest it he usually lost it. For the next ten years what the sword had not devoured the ”canker worm” (cotton worm, with us) ate up.

The people were in favor of reorganizing the States in accord with the Union. But the iniquities of carpet-bag governments and the diabolisms of ”black and tan” conventions for a long time kept respectable men out of politics. It was indeed too ”filthy a pool” to be entered. At a longer perspective this seems to have been a mistake. If the best men of the country had gone into the people's service--as did General Longstreet with most patriotic but futile purpose--they might have arrested incessant lootings of the people's hard-wrested tax-money and the nefarious legislation that enriched the despised carpet-bagger and scalawag--present, like the vultures, only for the prey after the battle.

So many men, however, had been disfranchised by reason of Confederate service that it is doubtful if enough respectability was eligible for office, to have had any purifying effect on public affairs.

In this crisis our Northern friends advised us after the following fas.h.i.+on. Major A. L. Brewer, Mr. Merrick's uncle, who had belonged to Sherman's army, sent me, in 1865, a letter from New Lisbon, Ohio:

”MY DEAR CARRIE,--Your devotion to Edwin makes you very dear to me.

You know my attachment to him and that I regard him as a son. He was always my favorite nephew. Since the war is over I trust that he will now take the oath of allegiance, and should he need any aid I can render it. The Secretary of War, Postmaster-General, Senators Nolle and Sherman of Ohio, and many others, are my staunch friends.

”As far as suffering is concerned you have had your share; but I would gladly have endured it for you if I could have saved my dear boy Charlie, who fell in battle. He was n.o.ble and brave, and my heart is chilled with grief for his loss.

”This was a foolish, unnatural war, and after four years of bloodshed and destruction I rejoice that it is over, and that discord will never again disturb the peace in our country. But the authors of the rebellion have paid dearly for their folly and wickedness. When I reflect upon the misery brought about by a few arch villains, I find it hard to control my feelings;--I should feel differently had they been the only sufferers. When I look upon the distress which has fallen upon the ma.s.ses in the South, I have no sympathy for the instigators of the war.

”But, my dear, you have fared better than many who came within my observation; as I followed Sherman, I have seen whole plantations utterly destroyed, houses burnt and women and children driven into the woods without warning. The torch was applied to everything. Sometimes the women would save a few things, but in most cases they went forth bareheaded to make the ground their bed and the sky their roof. The next day when the hungry children came prowling around our camps in search of something to eat, the Federal soldiers who left wives and children at home, and who had the hearts of men, were sorry for them.

But such is the cruelty of war and military discipline.”