Part 53 (1/2)

The first college established for girls was opened in Georgia. No naturalist has surpa.s.sed Audubon; no geographer equalled Maury; and Sims and McDonald led the world of surgery in their respective lines.

It was Crawford Long, of Georgia, who gave to the world the priceless blessing of anaesthesia.

The wealth acc.u.mulated by the people was marvellous. And, though it is held that slavery enriched the few at the general expense, Georgia and Carolina were the richest States, per capita, in the Union in 1800, saving Rhode Island. Some idea of the desolation of the war may be had from the fact that, in spite of their late remarkable recuperation, they are now, excepting Idaho, the poorest States, per capita, in the Union. So rich was the South in 1860, that Mr. Lincoln spoke but common sentiment when he said: ”If we let the South go, where shall we get our revenues?”

In its engaging grace--in the chivalry that tempered even Quixotism with dignity--in the piety that saved master and slave alike--in the charity that boasted not--in the honor held above estate--in the hospitality that neither condescended nor cringed--in frankness and heartiness and wholesome comrades.h.i.+p--in the reverence paid to womanhood and the inviolable respect in which woman's name was held--the civilization of the old slave _regime_ in the South has not been surpa.s.sed, and perhaps will not be equalled, among men.

And as the fidelity of the slave during the war bespoke the kindness of the master before the war, so the unquestioning reverence with which the young men of the South accepted, in 1865, their heritage of poverty and defeat, proved the strength and excellence of the civilization from which that heritage had come. In cheerfulness they bestirred themselves amid the ashes and the wrecks, and, holding the inspiration of their past to be better than their rich acres and garnered wealth, went out to rebuild their fallen fortunes, with never a word of complaint, nor the thought of criticism!

FOOTNOTE:

[45] By permission of ”New York Ledger,” Robert Bonner's Sons, N. Y.

THOMAS NELSON PAGE.

~1853=----.~

THOMAS NELSON PAGE was born at ”Oakland,” Hanover County, Virginia, of distinguished ancestry. He was educated at Was.h.i.+ngton and Lee University, studied law, and settled in Richmond. His first writings were poems and stories in the Virginia negro dialect, some of them in connection with Armistead Churchill Gordon. He is now (1894) editor of ”The Drawer” in Harper's Monthly, and stands high as one of the younger writers of our country.

WORKS.

In Ole Virginia, [stories in negro dialect].

Two Little Confederates.

Elsket, and other Stories.

Essays on the South, its literature, the Negro question, &c., in magazines.

Befo' de Wa', (with A. C. Gordon).

On New Found River.

Pastime Stories, [written for ”The Drawer”].

Among the Camps, [stories].

[Ill.u.s.tration: ~Agricultural and Mechanical College of Mississippi.~]

Mr. Page delineates finely the old Virginia darkey and his dialect, as Mr. Harris does the darkey of the Carolinas and Georgia. There is a marked difference between them.

”The naturalness of his style, the skill with which he uses seemingly indifferent incidents and sayings to trick out and light up his pictures, the apparently unintentional and therefore most effective touches of pathos, are uncommon.”

Ma.r.s.e CHAN'S LAST BATTLE.

(_From Ma.r.s.e Chan: In Ole Virginia._[46])

”Well, jes' den dey blowed boots an' saddles, an' we mounted: an' de orders come to ride 'roun' de slope, an' Ma.r.s.e Chan's comp'ny wuz de secon', an' when we got 'roun' dyah, we wuz right in it. Hit wuz de wust place ever dis n.i.g.g.e.r got in. An' dey said, 'Charge 'em!' an' my king! ef ever you see bullets fly, dey did dat day. Hit wuz jes' like hail; an' we wen' down de slope (I 'long wid de res') an' up de hill right to'ds de cannons, an' de fire wuz so strong dyar (dey had a whole rigiment of infintrys layin' down dyar onder de cannons) our lines sort o' broke an' stop; de cun'l was kilt, an' I b'lieve dey wuz jes' 'bout to bre'k all to pieces, when Ma.r.s.e Chan rid up an' cotch hol' de fleg, an' hollers, 'Foller me!' and rid strainin' up de hill 'mong de cannons.

”I seen 'im when he went, de sorrel four good lengths ahead o' ev'ry urr hoss, jes' like he use' to be in a fox-hunt, an' de whole rigiment right arfter 'im. Yo' ain' nuvver hear thunder! Fust thing I knowed, de roan roll' head over heels an' flung me up 'g'inst de bank, like yo' chuck a nubbin over 'g'inst de foot o' de corn pile. An' dat's what kep' me from bein' kilt, I 'spects. Judy she say she think 'twuz Providence, but I think 'twuz de bank. O' c'ose, Providence put de bank dyah, but how come Providence nuver saved Ma.r.s.e Chan?

”When I look 'roun' de roan wuz lyin' dyah by me, stone dead, wid a cannon-ball gone 'mos' th'oo him, an' our men had done swep' dem on t'urr side from de top o' de hill. 'Twan' mo'n a minit, de sorrel come gallupin' back wid his mane flyin', an' de rein hangin' down on one side to his knee. 'Dyar!' says I, 'fo' G.o.d! I 'spects dey done kill Ma.r.s.e Chan, an' I promised to tek care on him.'