A FASHIONABLE TEA-TABLE—TABLE-TALK—AUNT POLLY'S EXPERIENCE—THE OVERSEER'S AUTHORITY—THE WHIPPING-POST—TRANSFIGURING POWER OF DIVINE FAITH.
That evening when the family returned, I was glad to find the young ladies in such an excellent humor. It was seldom Miss Jane, whose peculiar property I was, ever gave me a kind word; and I was surprised on this occasion to hear her say, in a somewhat gentle tone:
"Well, Ann, come here, I want you to look very nice to-night, and wait on the table in style, for I am expecting company;" and, with a sort of half good-natured smile, she tossed an old faded neck-ribbon to me, saying,
"There is a present for you." I bowed low, and made a respectful acknowledgment of thanks, which she received in an unusually complacent manner.
Immediately I began to make arrangements for supper, and to get myself in readiness, which was no small matter, as my scanty wardrobe furnished no scope for the exercise of taste. In looking over my trunk, I found a white cotton apron, which could boast of many mice-bites and moth-workings; but with a needle and thread I soon managed to make it appear decent, and, combing my hair as neatly as possible, and tying the ribbon which Miss Jane had given me around it, I gave the finishing touch to my toilette, and then set about arranging the table. I assorted the tea-board, spoons, cups, saucers, &c., placed a nice damask napkin at each seat, and turned down the round little plates of white French china. The silver forks and ivory-handled knives were laid round the table in precise order. This done, I surveyed my work with an air of pride. Smilingcomplacently to myself, I proceeded to Miss Jane's room, to request her to come and look at it, and express her opinion.
On reaching her apartment, I found her dressed with great care, in a pink silk, with a rich lace berthé, and pearl ornaments. Her red hair was oiled until its fiery hue had darkened into a becoming auburn, and the metallic polish of the French powder had effectually concealed the huge freckles which spotted her cheeks.
Dropping a low courtesy, I requested her to come with me to the dining-room and inspect my work. With a smile, she followed, and upon examination, seemed well pleased.
"Now, Ann, if you do well in officiating, it will be well for you; but if you fail, if you make one mistake, you had better never been born, for," and she grasped me strongly by the shoulder, "I will flay you alive; you shall ache and smart in every limb and nerve."
Terror-stricken at this threat, I made the most earnest promises to exert my very best energies. Yet her angry manner and threatening words so unnerved me, that I was not able to go on with the work in the same spirit in which I had begun, for we all know what a paralysis fear is to exertion.
I stepped out on the balcony for some purpose, and there, standing at the end of the gallery, but partially concealed by the clematis blossoms, stood Miss Jane, and a tall gentleman was leaning over the railing talking very earnestly to her. In that uncertain light I could see the flash of her eye and the crimson glow of her cheek. She was twirling and tearing to pieces, petal by petal, a beautiful rose which she held in her hand. Here, I thought here is happiness; this woman loves and is beloved. She has tasted of that one drop which sweetens the whole cup of existence. Oh, what a thing it is to befree—free and independent, with power and privilege to go whithersoever you choose, with no cowardly fear, no dread of espionage, with the right to hold your head proudly aloft, and return glance for glance, not shrink and cower before the white man's look, as we poor slavesmustdo. But not many moments couldI thus spend in thought, and well, perhaps, it was for me that duty broke short all such unavailing regrets.
Hastening back to the dining-room, I gave another inquiring look at the table, fearful that some article had been omitted. Satisfying myself on this point, I moved on to the kitchen, where Aunt Polly was busy frying a chicken.
"Here, child," she exclaimed, "look in thar at them biscuits. See is they done. Oh, that's prime, browning beautiful-like," she said, as I drew from the stove a pan of nice biscuits, "and this ar' chicken is mighty nice. Oh, but it will make the young gemman smack his lips," and wiping the perspiration from her sooty brow, she drew a long breath, and seated herself upon a broken stool.
"Wal, this ar' nigger is tired. I's bin cooking now this twelve years, and never has I had 'mission' to let my old man come to see me, or I to go see him."
The children, with eyes wide open, gathered round Aunt Polly to hear a recital of her wrongs. "Laws-a-marcy, sights I's seen in my times, and often it 'pears like I's lost my senses. I tells you, yous only got to look at this ar' back to know what I's went through." Hereupon she exposed her back and arms, which were frightfully scarred.
"This ar' scar," and she pointed to a very deep one on her left shoulder, "Masser gib me kase I cried when he sold my oldest son; poor Jim, he was sent down the river, and I've never hearn from him since." She wiped a stray tear from her old eyes.
"Oh me! 'tis long time since my eyes hab watered, and now these tears do feel so quare. Poor Jim is down the river, Johnny is dead, and Lucy is sold somewhar, so I have neither chick nor child. What's I got to live fur?"
This brought fresh to my mind recollections of my own mother's grief, when she was forced to give me up, and I could not restrain my tears.
"What fur you crying, child?" she asked. "It puts me in mind ov my poor little Luce, she used to cry this way wheneveranything happened to me. Oh, many is the time she screamed if master struck me."
"Poor Aunt Polly," I said, as I walked up to her side, "I do pity you. I will be kind to you; I'll be your daughter."
She looked up with a wild stare, and with a deep earnestness seized hold of my out-stretched hand; then dropping it suddenly, she murmured,
"No, no, you ain't my darter, you comes to me with saft words, but you is jest like Lindy and all the rest of 'em; you'll go to the house and tell tales to the white folks on me. No, I'll not trust any of you."
Springing suddenly into the room, with his eyes flaming, came Jones, and, cracking his whip right and left, he struck each of the listening group. I retreated hastily to an extreme corner of the kitchen, where, unobserved by him, I could watch the affray.
"You devilish old wretch, Polly, what are you gabbling and snubbling here about? Up with your old hide, and git yer supper ready. Don't you know thar is company in the house?" and here he gave another sharp cut of the whip, which descended upon that poor old scarred back with a cruel force, and tore open old cicatriced wounds. The victim did not scream, nor shrink, nor murmur; but her features resumed their wonted hard, encrusted expression, and, rising up from her seat, she went on with her usual work.
"Now, cut like the wind," he added, as he flourished his whip in the direction of the young blacks, who had been the interested auditors of Aunt Polly's hair-breadth escapes, and quick as lightning they were off to their respective quarters, whilst I proceeded to assist Aunt Polly in dishing up the supper.
"This chicken," said I, in a tone of encouragement, "is beautifully cooked. How brown it is, and oh, what a delightful savory odor."
"I'll be bound the white folks will find fault wid it. Nobody ever did please Miss Jane. Her is got some of the most perkuler notions 'bout cookin'. I knows she'll be kommin' outhere, makin' a fuss 'long wid me 'bout dis same supper," and the old woman shook her head knowingly.
I made no reply, for I feared the re-appearance of Mr. Jones, and too often and too painfully had I felt the sting of his lash, to be guilty of any wanton provocation of its severity.
Silently, but with bitter thoughts curdling my life-blood, did I arrange the steaming cookies upon the luxurious board, and then, with a deferential air, sought the parlor, and bade them walk out to tea.
I found Miss Jane seated near a fine rosewood piano, and standing beside her was a gentleman, the same whom I had observed with her upon the verandah. Miss Matilda was at the window, looking out upon the western heaven. I spoke in a soft tone, asking them, "Please walk out to tea." The young gentleman rose, and offered his arm to Miss Jane, which was graciously accepted, and Miss Matilda followed. I swung the dining-room door open with great pomp and ceremony, for I knew that anything showy or grand, either in the furniture of a house or the deportment of a servant, would be acceptable to Miss Jane. Fashion, or style, was the god of her worship, and she often declared that her principal objection to the negro, was his great want of style in thought and action. She was not deep enough to see, that, fathoms down below the surface, in all the crudity of ignorance, lay a stratum of this same style, so much worshipped by herself. Does not the African, in his love of gaud, show, and tinsel, his odd and grotesque decorations of his person, exhibit a love of style? But she was not philosopher enough to see that this was a symptom of the same taste, though ungarnished and semi-barbarous.
The supper passed off very handsomely, so far as my part was concerned. I carried the cups round on a silver salver to each one; served them with chicken, plied them with cakes, confections, &c., and interspersed my performance with innumerable courtesies, bows and scrapes.
"Ah," said Miss Jane to the gentleman, "ah, Mr. Somerville, you have visited us at the wrong season; you should be herelater in the autumn, or earlier in the summer," and she gave one of her most benign smiles.
"Any season is pleasant here," replied Mr. Somerville, as he held the wing of a chicken between his thumb and fore-finger. Miss Jane simpered and looked down; and Miss Matilda arched her brows and gave a significant side-long glance toward her sister.
"Here, you cussed yallow gal," cried Mr. Peterkin, in a rage, "take this split spoon away and fetch me a fork what I ken use. These darned things is only made for grand folks," and he held the silver fork to me. Instantly I replaced it with a steel one.
"Now this looks something like. We only uses them ar' other ones when we has company, so I suppose, Mr. Somerville, the girl sot the table in this grand way bekase you is here."
No thunder-cloud was ever darker than Miss Jane's brow. It gathered, and deepened, and darkened like a thick-coming tempest, whilst lightnings blazed from her eye.
"Father," and she spoke through her clenched teeth, "what makes you affect this horrid vulgarity? and how can you be so veryidiosyncratic" (this was a favorite word with her) "as to say you never use them? Ever since I can remember, silver forks have been used in our family; but," and she smiled as she said it, "Mr. Somerville, father thinks it is truly a Kentucky fashion, and in keeping with the spirit of the early settlers, to rail out against fashion and style."
To this explanation Mr. Somerville bowed blandly. "Ah, yes, I do admire your father's honest independence."
"I'll jist tell you how it is, young man, my gals has bin better edicated than their pappy, and they pertends to be mighty 'shamed of me, bekase I has got no larnin'; but I wants to ax 'em one question, whar did the money kum from that give 'em thar larning?" and with a triumphant force he brought his hard fist down on the table, knocking off with his elbow a fine cut-glass tumbler, which was shivered to atoms.
"Thar now," he exclaimed, "another piece of yer cussedfrippery is breaked to bits. What did you put it here fur? I wants that big tin-cup that I drinks out of when nobody's here."
"Father, father," said Miss Matilda, who until now had kept an austere silence, "why will you persist in this outrageous talk? Why will you mortify and torture us in this cruel way?" and she burst into a flood of angry tears.
"Oh, don't blubber about it, Tildy, I didn't mean to hurt your feelin's."
Pretty soon after this, the peace of the table being broken up, the ladies and Mr. Somerville adjourned to the parlor, whilst Melinda, or Lindy, as she was called, and I set about clearing off the table, washing up the dishes, and gathering and counting over the forks and spoons.
Now, though the young ladies made great pretensions to elegance and splendor of living, yet were they vastly economical when there was no company present. The silver was all carefully laid away, and locked up in the lower drawer of an old-fashioned bureau, and the family appropriated a commoner article to their every-day use; but let a solitary guest appear, and forthwith the napkins and silver would be displayed, and treated by the ladies as though it was quite a usual thing.
"Now, Ann," said 'Lindy, "you wash the dishes, and I'll count the spoons and forks."
To this I readily assented, for I was anxious to get clear of such a responsible office as counting and assorting the silver ware.
Mr. Peterkin, or master, as we called him, sat near by, smoking his cob-pipe in none the best humor; for the recent encounter at the supper-table was by no means calculated to improve his temper.
"See here, gals," he cried in a tone of thunder, "if thar be one silver spoon or fork missin', yer hides shall pay for the loss."
"Laws, master, I'll be 'tickler enough," replied Lindy, as she smiled, more in terror than pleasure.
"Wal," he said, half aloud, "whar is the use of my darterstakin' on in the way they does? Jist look at the sight o' money that has bin laid out in that ar' tom-foolery."
This was a sort of soliloquy spoken in a tone audible enough to be distinct to us.
He drew his cob-pipe from his mouth, and a huge volume of smoke curled round his head, and filled the room with the aroma of tobacco.
"Now," he continued, "they does not treat me wid any perliteness. They thinks they knows a power more than I does; but if they don't cut their cards square, I'll cut them short of a nigger or two, and make John all the richer by it."
Lindy cut her eye knowingly at this, and gave me rather a strong nudge with her elbow.
"Keep still thar, gals, and don't rattle them cups and sassers so powerful hard."
By this time Lindy had finished the assortment of the silver, and had carefully stowed it away in a willow-basket, ready to be delivered to Miss Jane, and thence consigned to the drawer, where it would remain instatu quountil the timely advent of another guest.
"Now," she said, "I am ready to wipe the dishes, while you wash."
Thereupon I handed her a saucer, which, in her carelessness, she let slip from her hand, and it fell upon the floor, and there, with great consternation, I beheld it lying, shattered to fragments. Mr. Peterkin sprang to his feet, glad of an excuse to vent his temper upon some one.
"Which of you cussed wretches did this?"
"'Twas Ann, master! She let it fall afore I got my hand on it."
Ere I had time to vindicate myself from the charge, his iron arm felled me to the floor, and his hoof-like foot was placed upon my shrinking chest.
"You d—n yallow hussy, does you think I buys such expensive chany-ware for you to break up in this ar' way? No, you 'bominable wench, I'll have revenge out of your saffer'n hide. Here, Lindy, fetch me that cowhide."
"Mercy, master, mercy," I cried, when he had removed his foot from my breast, and my breath seemed to come again. "Oh, listen to me; it was not I who broke the saucer, it was only an accident; but oh, in God's name, have mercy on me and Lindy."
"Yes, I'll tache you what marcy is. Here, quick, some of you darkies, bring me a rope and light. I'm goin' to take this gal to the whippin'-post."
This overcame me, for, though I had often been cruelly beaten, yet had I escaped the odium of the "post;" and now for what I had not done, and for a thing which, at the worst, was but an accident, to bear the disgrace and the pain of a public whipping, seemed to me beyond endurance. I fell on my knees before him:
"Oh, master, please pardon me; spare me this time. I have got a half-dollar that Master Edward gave me when you bought me, I will give you that to pay for the saucer, but please do not beat me."
With a wild, fiendish grin, he caught me by the hair and swung me round until I half-fainted with pain.
"No, you wretch, I'll git my satisfaction out of yer body yit, and I'll be bound, afore this night's work is done, yer yallow hide will be well marked."
A deadly, cold sensation crept over me, and a feeling as of crawling adders seemed possessing my nerves. With all my soul pleading in my eyes I looked at Mr. Peterkin; but one glance of his fiendish face made my soul quail with even a newer horror. I turned my gaze from him to Jones, but the red glare of a demon lighted up his frantic eye, and the words of a profane bravo were on his lips. From him I turned to poor, hardened, obdurate old Nace, but he seemed to be linked and leagued with my torturers.
"Oh, Lindy," I cried, as she came up with a bunch of cord in her hand, "be kind, tell the truth, maybe master will forgive you. You are an older servant, better known and valued in the family. Oh, let your heart triumph. Speak the truth, and free me from the torture that awaits me. Oh, think of me, away offhere, separated from my mother, with no friend. Oh, pity me, and do acknowledge that you broke it."
"Well, you is crazy, you knows dat I never touched de sacer," and she laughed heartily.
"Come along wid you all. Now fur fun," cried Nace.
"Hold your old jaw," said Jones, and he raised his whip. Nace cowered like a criminal, and made some polite speech to "Massa Jones," and Mr. Peterkin possessed himself of the rope which Lindy had brought.
"Now hold yer hands here," he said to me.
For one moment I hesitated. I could not summon courage to offer my hands. It was the only resistance that I had ever dared to make. A severe blow from the overseer's riding-whip reminded me that I was still a slave, and dared have no will save that of my master. This blow, which struck the back of my head, laid me half-lifeless upon the floor. Whilst in this condition old Nace, at the command of his master, bound the rope tightly around my crossed arms and dragged me to the place of torment.
The motion or exertion of being pulled along over the ground, restored me to full consciousness. With a haggard eye I looked up to the still blue heaven, where the holy stars yet held their silent vigil; and the serene moon moved on in her starry track, never once heeding the dire cruelty, over which her pale beam shed its friendly light. "Oh," thought I, "is there no mercy throned on high? Are there no spirits in earth, air, or sky, to lend me their gracious influence? Does God look down with kindness upon injustice like this? Or, does He, too, curse me in my sorrow, and in His wrath turn away His glorious face from my supplication, and say 'a servant of servants shalt thou be?'" These wild, rebellious thoughts only crossed my mind; they did not linger there. No, like the breath-stain upon the polished surface of the mirror, they only soiled for a moment the shining faith which in my soul reflected the perfect goodness of that God who never forgets the humblest of His children, and who makes no distinction of color or of race. The consoling promise, "Hechasteneth whom He loveth," flashed through my brain with its blessed assurance, and reconciled me to a heroic endurance. Far away I strained my gaze to the starry heaven, and I could almost fancy the sky breaking asunder and disclosing the wondrous splendors which were beheld by the rapt Apostle on the isle of Patmos! Oh, transfiguring power of faith! Thou hast a wand more potent than that of fancy, and a vision brighter than the dreams of enchantment! What was it that reconciled me to the horrible tortures which were awaiting me? Surely, 'twas faith alone that sustained me. The present scene faded away from my vision, and, in fancy, I stood in the lonely garden of Gethsemane. I saw the darkness and gloom that overshadowed the earth, when, deserted by His disciples, our blessed Lord prayed alone. I heard the sighs and groans that burst from his tortured breast. I saw the bloody sweat, as prostrate on the earth he lay in the tribulation of mortal agony. I saw the inhuman captors, headed by one of His chosen twelve, come to seize his sacred person. I saw his face uplifted to the mournful heavens, as He prayed to His Father to remove the cup of sorrow. I saw Him bound and led away to death, without a friend to solace Him. Through the various stages of His awful passion, even to the Mount of Crucifixion, to the bloody and sacred Calvary, I followed my Master. I saw Him nailed to the cross, spit upon, vilified and abused, with the thorny crown pressed upon His brow. I heard the rabble shout; then I saw the solemn mystery of Nature, that did attestation to the awful fact that a fiendish work had been done and the prophecy fulfilled. The vail of the great temple was rent, the sun overcast, and the moon turned to blood; and in my ecstasy of passion, I could have shouted, Great is Jesus of Nazareth!! Then I beheld Him triumphing over the powers of darkness and death, when, robed in the white garments of the grave, He broke through the rocky sepulchre, and stood before the affrighted guards. His work was done, the propitiation had been made, and He went to His Father. This same Jesus, whom the civilized world now worship as their Lord, was once lowly, outcast,and despised; born of the most hated people of the world, belonging to a race despised alike by Jew and Gentile; laid in the manger of a stable at Bethlehem, with no earthly possessions, having not whereon to lay His weary head; buffetted, spit upon; condemned by the high priests and the doctors of law; branded as an impostor, and put to an ignominious death, with every demonstration of public contempt; crucified between two thieves; this Jesus is worshipped now by those who wear purple and fine linen. The class which once scorned Him, now offer at His shrine frankincense and myrrh; but, in their adoration of the despised Nazarene, they never remember that He has declared, not once, but many times, that the poor and the lowly are His people. "Forasmuch as you did it unto one of these you did it unto me." Then let the African trust and hope on—let him still weep and pray in Gethsemane, for a cloud hangs round about him, and when he prays for the removal of this cup of bondage, let him remember to ask, as his blessed Master did, "Thy will, oh Father, and not our own, be done;" still trust in Him who calmed the raging tempest: trust in Jesus of Nazareth! Look beyond the cross, to Christ.
These thoughts had power to cheer; and, fortified by faith and religion, the trial seemed to me easy to bear. One prayer I murmured, and my soul said to my body, "pass under the rod;" and the cup which my Father has given me to drink must be drained, even to the dregs.
In this state of mind, with a moveless eye I looked upon the whipping-post, which loomed up before me like an ogre.
This was a quadri-lateral post, about eight feet in height, having iron clasps on two opposing sides, in which the wrists and ankles were tightly secured.
"Now, Lindy," cried Jones, "jerk off that gal's rigging, I am anxious to put some marks on her yellow skin."
I knew that resistance was vain; so I submitted to have my clothes torn from my body; for modesty, so much commended in a white woman, is in a negro pronounced affectation.
Jones drew down a huge cow-hide, which he dipped in a barrel of brine that stood near the post.
"I guess this will sting," he said, as he flourished the whip toward me.
"Leave that thin slip on me, Lindy," I ventured to ask; for I dreaded the exposure of my person even more than the whipping.
"None of your cussed impedence; strip off naked. What is a nigger's hide more than a hog's?" cried Jones. Lindy and Nace tore the last article of clothing from my back. I felt my soul shiver and shudder at this; but what could I do? Icould pray—thank God, I could pray!
I then submitted to have Nace clasp the iron cuffs around my hands and ankles, and there I stood, a revolting spectacle. With what misery I listened to obscene and ribald jests from my master and his overseer!
"Now, Jones," said Mr. Peterkin, "I want to give that gal the first lick, which will lay the flesh open to the bone."
"Well, Mr. Peterkin, here is the whip; now you can lay on."
"No, confound your whip; I wants that cow-hide, and here, let me dip it well into the brine. I want to give her a real good warmin'; one that she'll 'member for a long time."
During this time I had remained motionless. My heart was lifted to God in silent prayer. Oh, shall I, can I, ever forget that scene? There, in the saintly stillness of the summer night, where the deep, o'ershadowing heavens preached a sermon of peace, there I was loaded with contumely, bound hand and foot in irons, with jeering faces around, vulgar eyes glaring on my uncovered body, and two inhuman men about to lash me to the bone.
The first lick from Mr. Peterkin laid my back open. I writhed, I wrestled; but blow after blow descended, each harder than the preceding one. I shrieked, I screamed, I pleaded, I prayed, but there was no mercy shown me. Mr. Peterkin having fully gratified and quenched his spleen, turned to Mr. Jones, and said, "Now is yer turn; you can beat her as much as youplease, only jist leave a bit o' life in her, is all I cares for."
"Yes; I'll not spile her for the market; but I does want to take a little of the d——d pride out of her."
"Now, boys"—for by this time all the slaves on the place, save Aunt Polly, had assembled round the post—"you will see what a true stroke I ken make; but darn my buttons if I doesn't think Mr. Peterkin has drawn all the blood."
So saying, Jones drew back the cow-hide at arm's length, and, making a few evolutions with his body, took what he called "sure aim." I closed my eyes in terror. More from the terrible pain, than from the frantic shoutings of the crowd, I knew that Mr. Jones had given a lick that he called "true blue." The exultation of the negroes in Master Jones' triumph was scarcely audible to my ears; for a cold, clammy sensation was stealing over my frame; my breath was growing feebler and feebler, and a soft melody, as of lulling summer fountains, was gently sounding in my ears; and, as if gliding away on a moonbeam, I passed from all consciousness of pain. A sweet oblivion, like that sleep which announces to the wearied, fever-sick patient, that his hour of rest has come, fell upon me! It was not a dreamful sensibility, filled with the chaos of fragmentary visions, but a rest where the mind, nay, the very soul, seemed to sleep with the body.
How long this stupor lasted I am unable to say; but when I awoke, I was lying on a rough bed, a face dark, haggard, scarred and worn, was bending over me. Disfigured as was that visage, it was pleasant to me, for it was human. I opened my eyes, then closed them languidly, re-opened them, then closed them again.
"Now, chile, I thinks you is a leetle better," said the dark-faced woman, whom I recognized as Aunt Polly; but I was too weak, too wandering in mind, to talk, and I closed my eyes and slept again.
RESTORED CONSCIOUSNESS—AUNT POLLY'S ACCOUNT OF MY MIRACULOUS RETURN TO LIFE—THE MASTER'S AFFRAY WITH THE OVERSEER.
When I awoke (for I was afterwards told by my good nurse that I had slept four days), I was lying on the same rude bed; but a cool, clear sensation overspread my system. I had full and active possession of my mental faculties. I rose and sat upright in the bed, and looked around me. It was the deep hour of night. A little iron lamp was upon the hearth, and, for want of a supply of oil, the wick was burning low, flinging a red glare through the dismal room. Upon a broken stool sat Aunt Polly, her head resting upon her breast, in what nurses call a "stolen nap." Amy and three other children were sleeping in a bed opposite me.
In a few moments I was able to recall the whole of the scenes through which I had passed, while consciousness remained; and I raised my eyes to God in gratitude for my partial deliverance from pain and suffering. Very softly I stole from my bed, and, wrapping an old coverlet round my shoulders, opened the door, and looked out upon the clear, star-light night. Of the vague thoughts that passed through my mind I will not now speak, though they were far from pleasant or consolatory.
The fresh night air, which began to have a touch of the frost of the advancing autumn, blew cheerily in the room, and it fell with an awakening power upon the brow of Aunt Polly.
"Law, chile, is dat you stannin' in de dor? What for you git up out en yer warm bed, and go stand in the night-ar?"
"Because I feel so well, and this pleasant air seems to brace my frame, and encourage my mind."
"But sure you had better take to your bed again; you hab had a mighty bad time ob it."
"How long have I been sick? It all seems to me like a horrible dream, from which I have been suddenly and pleasantly aroused."
As I said this, Aunt Polly drew me from the door, and closing it, she bade me go to bed.
"No, indeed, I cannot sleep. I feel wide awake, and if I only had some one to talk to me, I could sit up all night."
"Well, bress your heart, I'll talk wid you smack, till de rise ob day," she said, in such a kind, good-natured tone, that I was surprised, for I had regarded her only as an ill-natured, miserable beldame.
Seating myself on a ricketty stool beside her, I prepared for a long conversation.
"Tell me what has happened since I have been sick?" I said. "Where are Miss Jane and Matilda? and where is the young gentleman who supped with them on that awful night?"
"Bress you, honey, but 'twas an awful night. Dis ole nigger will neber forget it long as she libs;" and she bent her head upon her poor old worn hands, and by the pale, blue flicker of the lamp, I could discern the rapidly-falling tears.
"What," thought I, "and this hardened, wretched old woman can weep for me! Her heart is not all ossified if she can forget her own bitter troubles, and weep for mine."
This knowledge was painful, and yet joyful to me. Who of us can refuse sympathy? Who does not want it, no matter at what costly price? Does it not seem like dividing the burden, when we know that there is another who will weep for us? I threw my arms round Aunt Polly. I tightly strained that decayed and revolting form to my breast, and I inly prayed that some young heart might thus rapturously go forth, in blessings to my mother. This evidence of affection did not surprise Aunt Polly, nor did she return my embrace; but a deep, hollow sigh, burst from her full heart, and I knew thatmemory was far away—that, in fancy, she was with her children, her loved and lost.
"Come, now," said I, soothingly, "tell me all about it. How did I suffer? What was done for me? Where is master?" and I shuddered, as I mentioned the name of my horrible persecutor.
"Oh, chile, when Masser Jones was done a-beatin' ob yer, dey all ob 'em tought you was dead; den Masser got orful skeard. He cussed and swore, and shook his fist in de oberseer's face, and sed he had kilt you, and dat he was gwine to law wid him 'bout de 'struction ob his property. Den Masser Jones he swar a mighty heap, and tell Masser he dar' him to go to law 'bout it. Den Miss Jane and Tilda kum out, and commenced cryin', and fell to 'busin' Masser Jones, kase Miss Jane say she want to go to de big town, and take you long wid her fur lady's maid. Den Mr. Jones fell to busen ob her, and den Masser and him clinched, and fought, and fought like two big black dogs. Den Masser Jones sticked his great big knife in Masser's side, and Masser fell down, and den we all tought he was clar gone. Den away Maser Jones did run, and nobody dared take arter him, for he had a loaded pistol and a big knife. Den we all on us, de men and wimmin folks both, grabbed up Masser, and lifted him in de house, and put him on de bed. Den Jake, he started off fur de doctor, while Miss Jane and Tilda 'gan to fix Masser's cut side. Law, bress your heart, but thar he laid wid his big form stretched out just as helpless as a baby. His face was as white as a ghost, and his eyes shot right tight up. Law bress you, but I tought his time hab kum den. Well, Lindy and de oder wimmin was a helpin' ob Miss Jane and Tildy, so I jist tought I would go and look arter yer body. Thar you was, still tied to de post, all kivered with blood. I was mighty feared ob you; but den I tought you had been so perlite, and speaked so kind to me, dat I would take kare ob yer body; so I tuck you down, and went wid you to de horse-trough, and dere I poured some cold water ober yer, so as to wash away de clotted blood. Den decold water sorter 'vived you, and yer cried out 'oh, me!' Wal dat did skeer me, and I let you drap right down in de trough, and de way dis nigger did run, fur de life ob her. Well, as I git back I met Jake, who had kum back wid de doctor, and I cried out, 'Oh Jake, de spirit ob Ann done speaked to me!' 'Now, Polly,' says he, 'do hush your nonsense, you does know dat Ann is done cold dead.' 'Well Jake,' says I, 'I tuck her down frum de post, and tuck her to the trough to wash her, and tought I'd fix de body out right nice, in de best close dat she had. Well, jist as I got de water on it, somping hollowed out, 'oh me!' so mournful like, dat it 'peared to me it kum out ob de ground.
"'What fur den you do?' says Jake. 'Why, to be sure, I lef it right dar, and run as fas' as my feet would carry me.'
"By dis time de house was full ob de neighbors; all hab collected in de house, fur de news dat Masser was kilt jist fly trough de neighborhood. Miss Bradly hearn in de house 'bout de 'raculous 'pearance ob de sperit, and she kum up to me, and say 'Polly, whar is de body of Ann?' 'Laws, Miss Bradly, it is out in de trough, I won't go agin nigh to it.'
"'Well,' say she, 'where is Jake? let him kum along wid me.'
"'What, you ain't gwine nigh it?' I asked.
"'Yes I is gwine right up to it,' she say, 'kase I knows thar is life in it.' Well this sorter holpd me up, so I said, 'well I'll go too.' So we tuck Jake, and Miss Bradly walked long wid us to de berry spot, and dar you wus a settin up in de water ob de trough where I seed you; it skeered me worse den eber, so I fell right down on de ground, and began to pray to de Lord to hab marcy on us all; but Miss Bradly (she is a quare woman) walked right up to you, and spoke to you.
"'Laws,' says Jake, 'jist hear dat ar' woman talking wid a sperit,' and down he fell, and went to callin on de Angel Gabriel to kum and holp him.
"Fust ting I knowed, Miss Bradly was a rollin' her shawl round yer body, and axed you to walk out ob de trough.
"Well, tinks I, dese am quare times when a stone-dead niggergits up and walks agin like a live one. Well, widout any help from us, Miss Bradly led you 'long into dis cabin. I followed arter. After while she kind o' 'suaded me you was a livin'. Den I helped her wash you, and got her some goose-greese, and we rubbed you all ober, from your head to yer feet, and den you kind ob fainted away, and I began to run off; but Miss Bradly say you only swoon, and she tuck a little glass vial out ob her pocket, and held it to yer nose, and dis bring you to agin. After while you fell off to sleep, and Miss Bradly bringed de Doctor out ob de house to look at you. Well, he feel ob yer wrist, put his ear down to yer breast, den say, 'may be wid care she will git well, but she hab been powerful bad treated.' He shuck his head, and I knowed what he was tinkin' 'bout, but I neber say one word. Den Miss Bradly wiped her eyes, and de Doctor fetch anoder sigh, and say, dis is very 'stressing,' and Miss Bradly say somepin agin 'slavery,' and de Doctor open ob his eyes right wide and say, ''tis worth your head, Miss, for to say dat in dis here country.' Den she kind of 'splained it to him, and tings just seemed square 'twixt 'em, for she was monstrous skeered like, and turned white as a sheet. Den I hearn de Doctor say sompin' 'bout ridin' on a rail, and tar and feaders, and abolutionist. So arter dat, Miss Bradly went into de house, arter she had bin a tellin' ob me to nurse you well; dat you was way off hare from yer mammy, so eber sence den you has bin a lying right dar on dat bed, and I hab nursed you as if you war my own child."
I threw my arms around her again, and imprinted kisses upon her rugged brow; for, though her skin was sooty and her face worn with care, I believed that somewhere in a silent corner of her tried heart there was a ray of warm, loving, human feeling.
"Oh, child," she begun, "can you wid yer pretty yallow face kiss an old pitch-black nigger like me?"
"Why, yes, Aunt Polly, and love you too; if your face is dark I am sure your heart is fair."
"Well, I doesn't know 'bout dat, chile; once 'twas far, but I tink all de white man done made it black as my face."
"Oh no, I can't believe that, Aunt Polly," I replied.
"Wal, I always hab said dat if dey would cut my finger and cut a white woman's, dey would find de blood ob de very same color," and the old woman laughed exultingly.
"Yes, but, Aunt Polly, if you were to go before a magistrate with a case to be decided, he would give it against you, no matter how just were your claims."
"To be sartin, de white folks allers gwine to do every ting in favor ob dar own color."
"But, Aunt Polly," interposed I, "there is a God above, who disregards color."
"Sure dare is, and dar we will all ob us git our dues, and den de white folks will roast in de flames ob old Nick."
I saw, from a furtive flash of her eye, that all the malignity and revenge of her outraged nature were becoming excited, and I endeavored to change the conversation.
"Is master getting well?"
"Why, yes, chile, de debbil can't kill him. He is 'termined to live jist as long as dare is a nigger to torment. All de time he was crazy wid de fever, he was fightin' wid de niggers—'pears like he don't dream 'bout nothin' else."
"Does he sit up now?" I asked this question with trepidation, for I really dreaded to see him.
"No, he can't set up none. De doctor say he lost a power o' blood, and he won't let him eat meat or anyting strong, and I tells you, honey, Masser does swar a heap. He wants to smoke his pipe, and to hab his reglar grog, and dey won't gib it to him. It do take Jim and Jake bofe to hold him in de bed, when his tantarums comes on. He fights dem, he calls for de oberseer, he orders dat ebery nigger on de place shall be tuck to de post. I tells you now, I makes haste to git out ob his way. He struck Jake a lick dat kum mighty nigh puttin' out his eye. It's all bunged up now."
"Where did Mr. Somerville go?" I asked.
"Oh, de young gemman dat dey say is a courtin' Miss Jane, he hab gone back to de big town what he kum from; but Lindysay Miss Jane got a great long letter from him, and Lindy say she tink Miss Jane gwine to marry him."
"Well, I belong to Miss Jane; I wonder if she will take me with her to the town."
"Why, yes, chile, she will, for she do believe in niggers. She wants 'em all de time right by her side, a waitin' on her."
This thought set me to speculating. Here, then, was the prospect of another change in my home. The change might be auspicious; but it would take me away from Aunt Polly, and remove me from Miss Bradly's influence; and this I dreaded, for she had planted hopes in my breast, which must blossom, though at a distant season, and I wished to be often in her company, so that I might gain many important items from her.
Aunt Polly, observing me unusually thoughtful, argued that I was sleepy, and insisted upon my returning to bed. In order to avoid further conversation, and preserve, unbroken, the thread of my reflections, I obeyed her.
Throwing myself carelessly upon the rough pallet, I wandered in fancy until leaden-winged sleep overcame me.
AMY'S NARRATIVE, AND HER PHILOSOPHY OF A FUTURE STATE.
When the golden sun had begun to tinge with light the distant tree-tops, and the young birds to chant their matin hymn, I awoke from my profound sleep. Wearily I moved upon my pillow, for though my slumber had been deep and sweet, yet now, upon awaking, I experienced no refreshment.
Rising up in the bed, and supporting myself upon my elbow, I looked round in quest of Aunt Polly; but then I remembered that she had to be about the breakfast. Amy was sitting on the floor, endeavoring to arrange the clothes on a little toddler, her orphan brother, over whom she exercised a sort of maternal care. She, her two sisters, and infant brother, were the orphans of a woman who had once belonged to a brother of Mr. Peterkin. Their orphanage had not fallen upon them from the ghastly fingers of death, but from the far more cruel and cold mandate of human cupidity. A fair, even liberal price had been offered their owner for their mother, Dilsy, and such a speculation was not to be resigned upon the score of philanthropy. No, the man who would refuse nine hundred dollars for a negro woman, upon the plea that she had three young children and a helpless infant, from whom she must not be separated, would, in Kentucky, be pronounced insane; and I can assure you that, on this subject, the brave Kentuckians had good right to decide, according to their code, that Elijah Peterkin wascompos mentis.
"Amy," said I, as I rubbed my eyes, to dissipate the film and mists of sleep, "is it very late? have you heard the horn blow for the hands to come in from work?"
"No, me hab not hearn it yet, but laws, Ann, me did tink you would neber talk no more."
"But you see I am talking now," and I could not resist a smile; "have you been nursing me?"
"No, indeed, Aunt Polly wouldn't let me come nigh yer bed, and she keep all de time washing your body and den rubbin' it wid a feader an' goose-greese. Oh, you did lay here so still, jist like somebody dead. Aunt Polly, she wouldn't let one ob us speak one word, sed it would 'sturb you; but I knowed you wasn't gwine to kere, so ebery time she went out, I jist laughed and talked as much as I want."
"But did you not want me to get well, Amy?"
"Why, sartin I did; but my laughin' want gwine to kill you, was it?" She looked up with a queer, roguish smile.
"No, but it might have increased my fever."
"Well, if you had died, I would hab got yer close, now you knows you promised 'em to me. So when I hearn Jake say you was dead, I run and got yer new calico dress, and dat ribbon what Miss Jane gib you, an' put dem in my box; den arter while Aunt Polly say you done kum back to life; so I neber say notin' more, I jist tuck de close and put dem back in yer box, and tink to myself, well, maybe I will git 'em some oder time."
It amused me not a little to find that upon mere suspicion of my demise, this little negro had levied upon my wardrobe, which was scanty indeed; but so it is, be we ever so humble or poor, there is always some one to regard us with a covetous eye. My little paraphernalia was, to this half-savage child, a rich and wondrous possession.
"Here, hold up yer foot, Ben, or you shan't hab any meat fur breakus." This threat was addressed to her young brother, whom she nursed like a baby, and whose tiny foot seemed to resist the restraint of a shoe.
I looked long at them, and mused with a strange sorrow upon their probable destiny. Bitter I knew it must be. For, where is there, beneath the broad sweep of the majestic heavens, asingle one of the dusky tribe of Ethiopia who has not felt that existence was to him far more a curse than a blessing? You, oh, my tawny brothers, who read these tear-stained pages, ask your own hearts, which, perhaps, now ache almost to bursting, ask, I say, your own vulture-torn hearts, if life is not a hard, hard burden? Have you not oftentimes prayed to the All-Merciful to sever the mystic tie that bound you here, to loosen your chains and set you, soul and body, free? Have you not, from the broken chinks of your lonely cabins at night, looked forth upon the free heavens, and murmured at your fate? Is there, oh! slave, in your heart a single pleasant memory? Do you not, captive-husband, recollect with choking pride how the wife of your bosom has been cruelly lashed while you dared not say one word in her defence? Have you not seen your children, precious pledges of undying love, ruthlessly torn from you, bound hand and foot and sold like dogs in the slave market, while you dared not offer a single remonstrance? Has not every social and moral feeling been outraged? Is it not the white man's policy to degrade your race, thereby finding an argument to favor the perpetuation of Slavery? Is there for us one thing to sweeten bondage? Free African! in the brave old States of the North, where the shackles of slavery exist not, to you I call. Noble defenders of Abolition, you whose earnest eyes may scan these pages, I call to you with atearful voice; I pray you to go on in your glorious cause; flag not, faint not, prosecute it before heaven and against man. Fling out your banners and march on to the defence of the suffering ones at the South. And you, oh my heart-broken sisters, toiling beneath a tropic sun, wearing out your lives in the service of tyrants, to you I say, hope and pray still! Trust in God! He is mighty and willing to save, and, in an hour that you know not of, he will roll the stone away from the portal of your hearts. My prayers are with you and for you. I have come up from the same tribulation, and I vow, by the sears and wounds upon my flesh, never to forget your cause. Would thatmy tears, which freely flow for you, had power to dissolve the fetters of your wasting bondage.
Thoughts like these, though with more vagueness and less form, passed through my brain as I looked upon those poor little outcast children, and I must be excused for thus making, regardless of the usual etiquette of authors, an appeal to the hearts of my free friends. Never once do I wish them to lose sight of the noble cause to which they have lent the influence of their names. I am but a poor, unlearned woman, whose heart is in her cause, and I should be untrue to the motive which induced me to chronicle the dark passages in my woe-worn life if I did not urge and importune the Apostles of Abolition to move forward and onward in their march of reform.
"Come, Amy, near to my bed, and talk a little with me."
"I wants to git some bread fust."
"You are always hungry," I pettishly replied.
"No, I isn't, but den, Ann, I neber does git enuf to eat here. Now, we use to hab more at Mas' Lijah's."
"Was he a good master?" I asked.
"No, he wasn't; but den mammy used to gib us nice tings to eat. She buyed it from de store, and she let us hab plenty ob it."
"Where is your mammy?"
"She bin sold down de ribber to a trader," and there was a quiver in the child's voice.
"Did she want to go?" I inquired.
"No, she cried a heap, and tell Masser she wouldn't mind it if he would let her take us chilen; but Masser say no, he wouldn't. Den she axed him please to let her hab little Ben, any how. Masser cussed, and said, Well, she might hab Ben, as he was too little to be ob any sarvice; den she 'peared so glad and got him all ready to take; but when de trader kum to take her away, he say he wouldn't 'low her to take Ben, kase he couldn't sell her fur as much, if she hab a baby wid her; den, oh den, how poor mammy did cry and beg; but de trader tuck his cowhide and whipped her so hard she hab to stop cryin'or beggin'. Den she kum to me and make me promise to take good care ob Ben, to nurse him and tend on him as long as I staid whar he was. Den she knelt down in de corner of her cabin and prayed to God to take care ob us, all de days of our life; den she kissed us all and squeezed us tight, and when she tuck little Ben in her arms it 'peared like her heart would break. De water from her eyes wet Ben's apron right ringing wet, jist like it had come out ob a washing tub. Den de trader called to her to come along, and den she gib dis to me, and told me dat ebery time I looked at it, I must tink of my poor mammy dat was sold down de ribber, and 'member my promise to her 'bout my little brudder."
Here the child exhibited a bored five-cent piece, which she wore suspended by a black string around her neck.
"De chilen has tried many times to git it away frum me; but I's allers beat 'em off; and whenever Miss Tildy wants me fur to mind her, she says, 'Now, Amy, I'll jist take yer mammy's present from yer if yer doesn't do what I bids yer;' den de way dis here chile does work isn't slow, I ken tell yer," and with her characteristic gesture she run her tongue out at the corner of her mouth in an oblique manner, and suddenly withdrew it, as though it had passed over a scathing iron.
"Could anything induce you to part with it?" I asked.
She rolled her eyes up with a look of wonderment, and replied, half ferociously, "Gracious! no—why, hasn't I bin whipped, 'bused and treed; still I'd hold fast to this. No mortal ken take it frum me. You may kill me in welcome," and the child shook her head with a philosophical air, as she said, "and I don't kere much, so mammy's chilen dies along wid me, fur I didn't see no use in our livin' eny how. I's done got my full shere ob beatin' an' we haint no use on dis here airth—so I jist wants fur to die."
I looked upon her, so uncared for, so forlorn in her condition, and I could not find it in my heart to blame her for the wish, erring and rebellious as it must appear to the Christian. Whathadshe to live for? To those little children, the sacred bequestsof her mother, she was no protection; for, even had she been capable of extending to them all the guidance and watchfulness, both of soul and body, which their delicate and immature natures required, there was every probability, nay, there was a certainty, that this duty would be denied her. She could not hope, at best, to live with them more than a few years. They were but cattle, chattels, property, subject to the will and pleasure of their owners. There would speedily come a time when a division must take place in the estate, and that division would necessarily cause a separation and rupture of family ties. What wonder then, that this poor ignorant child sighed for the calm, unfearing, unbroken rest of the grave? She dreamed not of a "more beyond;" she thought her soul mortal, even as her body; and had she been told that there was for her a world, even a blessed one, to succeed death, she would have shuddered and feared to cross the threshold of the grave. She thought annihilation the greatest, the only blessing awaiting her. The idea of another life would have brought with it visions of a new master and protracted slavery. Freedom and equality of souls, irrespective ofcolor, was too transcendental and chimerical an idea to take root in her practical brain. Many times had she heard her master declare that "niggers were jist like dogs, laid down and died, and nothin' come of them afterwards." His philosophy could have proposed nothing more delightful to her ease-coveting mind.
Some weeks afterwards, when I was trying to teach her the doctrine of the immortality of the soul, she broke forth in an idiotic laugh, as she said, "oh, no, dat gold city what dey sings 'bout in hymns, will do fur de white folks; but nothin' eber comes of niggers; dey jist dies and rots."
"Who do you think made negroes?" I inquired.
Looking up with a meaning grin, she said, "White folks made 'em fur der own use, I 'spect."
"Why do you think that?"
"Kase white folks ken kill 'em when dey pleases; so I 'spose dey make 'em."
This was a species of reasoning which, for a moment, confounded my logic. Seeing that I lacked a ready reply, she went on:
"Yes, you see, Ann, we hab no use wid a soul. De white folks won't hab any work to hab done up dere, and so dey won't hab no use fur niggers."
"Doesn't this make you miserable?"
"What?" she asked, with amazement.
"This thought of dying, and rotting like the vilest worm."
"No, indeed, it makes me glad; fur den I'll not hab anybody to beat me; knock, kick, and cuff me 'bout, like dey does now."
"Poor child, happier far," I thought, "in your ignorance, than I, with all the weight of fearful responsibility that my little knowledge entails upon me. On you, God will look with a more pitying eye than upon me, to whom he has delegated the stewardship of two talents."
TALK AT THE FARM-HOUSE—THREATS—THE NEW BEAU—LINDY.
Several days had elapsed since the morning conversation with Amy; meanwhile matters were jogging along in their usually dull way. Of late, since the flight of Mr. Jones, and the illness of Mr. Peterkin, there had been considerably less fighting; but the ladies made innumerable threats of what they would do, when their father should be well enough to allow a suspension of nursing duties.
My wounds had rapidly healed, and I had resumed my former position in the discharge of household duties. Lindy, my old assistant, still held her place. I always had an aversion to her. There was that about her entire physique which made her odious to me. A certain laxity of the muscles and joints of her frame, which produced a floundering, shuffling sort of gait that was peculiarly disagreeable, a narrow, soulless countenance, an oblique leer of the eye where an ambushed fiend seemed to lurk, full, voluptuous lips, lengthy chin, and expanded nostril, combined to prove her very low in the scale of animals. She had a kind of dare-devil courage, which seemed to brave a great deal, and yet she shrank from everything like punishment. There was a union of degrading passions in her character. I doubt if the lowest realm of hades contained a baser spirit. This girl, I felt assured from the first time I beheld her, was destined to be my evil genius. I felt that the baleful comet that presided over her birth, would in his reckless and maddening course, rush too near the little star which, through cloud and shadow, beamed on my destiny.
She was not without a certain kind of sprightliness that passed for intelligence; and she could by her adroitness of manœuvreamble out of any difficulty. With a good education she would have made an excellent female pettifogger. She had all of the quickness and diablerie usually summed up in that most expressive American word, "smartness."
I was a good deal vexed and grieved to find myself again a partner of hers in the discharge of my duties. It seemed to open my wounds afresh; for I remembered that her falsehood had gained me the severe castigation that had almost deprived me of life; and her laugh and jibe had rendered my suffering at the accursed post even more humiliating. Yet I knew better than to offer a demurrer to any arrangement that my mistress had made.
One day as I was preparing to set the table for the noon meal, Lindy came to me and whispered, in an under-tone, "You finish the table, I am going out; and if Miss Jane or Tildy axes where I is, say dat I went to de kitchen to wash a dish."
"Very well," I replied in my usual laconic style, and went on about my work. It was well for her that she had observed this precaution; for in a few moments Miss Tildy came in, and her first question was for Lindy. I answered as I had been desired to do. The reply appeared to satisfy her, and with the injunction (one she never failed to give), that I should do my work well and briskly, she left the room.
After I had arranged the table to my satisfaction, I went to the kitchen to assist Aunt Polly in dishing up dinner.
When I reached the kitchen I found Aunt Polly in a great quandary. The fire was not brisk enough to brown her bread, and she dared not send it to the table without its being as beautifully brown as a student's meditations.
"Oh, child," she began, "do run somewhar' and git me a scrap or so of dry wood, so as to raise a smart little blaze to brown dis bread."
"Indeed I will," and off I bounded in quest of the combustible material. Of late Aunt Polly and I had become as devoted as mother and child. 'Tis true there was a deep yearning in my heart, a thirst for intercommunion of soul, which thisuntutored negress could not supply. She did not answer, with a thrilling response, to the deep cry which my spirit sent out; yet she was kind, and even affectionate, to me. Usually harsh to others, with me she was gentle as a lamb. With a thousand little motherly acts she won my heart, and I strove, by assiduous kindness, to make her forget that I was not her daughter. I started off with great alacrity in search of the dry wood, and remembered that on the day previous I had seen some barrel staves lying near an out-house, and these I knew would quickly ignite. When rapidly turning the corner of the stable, I was surprised to see Lindy standing in close and apparently free conversation with a strange-looking white man. The sound of my rapid footsteps startled them; and upon seeing me, the man walked off hastily. With a fluttering, excited manner, Lindy came up and said:
"Don't say nothing 'bout haven' seed me wid dat ar' gemman; fur he used to be my mars'er, and a good one he was too."
I promised that I would say nothing about the matter, but first I inquired what was the nature of the private interview.
"Oh, he jist wanted fur to see me, and know how I was gitten' long."
I said no more; but I was not satisfied with her explanation. I resolved to watch her narrowly, and ferret out, if possible, this seeming mystery. Upon my return to the kitchen, with my bundle of dry sticks, I related what I had seen to Aunt Polly.
"Dat gal is arter sompen not very good, you mark my words fur it."
"Oh, maybe not, Aunt Polly," I answered, though with a conviction that I was speaking at variance with the strong probabilities of the case.
I hurried in the viands and meats for the table, and was not surprised to find Lindy unusually obliging, for I understood the object. There was an abashed air and manner which argued guilt, or at least, that she was the mistress of a secret, for the entire possession of which she trembled. Sundry little acts ofunaccustomed kindness she offered me, but I quietly declined them. I did not desire that she should insult my honor by the offer of a tacit bribe.
In the evening, when I was arranging Miss Jane's hair (this was my especial duty), she surprised me by asking, in a careless and incautious manner:
"Ann, what is the matter with Lindy? she has such an excited manner."
"I really don't know, Miss Jane; I have not observed anything very unusual in her."
"Well, I have, and I shall speak to her about it. Oh, there! slow, girl, slow; you pulled my hair. Don't do it again. You niggers have become so unruly since pa's sickness, that if we don't soon get another overseer, there will be no living for you. There is Lindy in the sulks, simply because she wants a whipping, and old Polly hasn't given us a meal fit to eat."
"Have I done anything, Miss Jane?" I asked with a misgiving.
"No, nothing in particular, except showing a general and continued sullenness. Now, I do despise to see a nigger always sour-looking; and I can tell you, Ann, you must change your ways, or it will be worse for you."
"I try to be cheerful, Miss Jane, but—" here I wisely checked myself.
"Try to be," she echoed with a satirical tone. "What do you mean bytrying? You don't dare to say you are not happyhere?"
Finding that I made no reply, she said, "If you don't cut your cards squarely, you will find yourself down the river before long, and there you are only half-clad and half-fed, and flogged every day." Still I made no reply. I knew that if I spoke truthfully, and as my heart prompted, it would only redound to my misery. What right had I to speak of my mother. She was no more than an animal, and as destitute of the refinement of common human feeling—so I forbore to allude to her, or my great desire to see her. I dared not speak of thehorrible manner in which my body had been cut and slashed, the half-lifeless condition in which I had been taken from the accursed post, and all for a fault which was not mine. These were things which, as they were done by my master's commands, were nothing more than right; so with an effort, I controlled my emotion, and checked the big tears which I felt were rushing up to my eyes.
When I had put the finishing stroke to Miss Jane's hair, and whilst she was surveying herself in a large French mirror, Miss Bradly came in. Tossing her bonnet off, she kissed Miss Jane very affectionately, nodded to me, and asked,
"Where is Tildy?"
"I don't know, somewhere about the house, I suppose," replied Miss Jane.
"Well, I have a new beau for her; now it will be a fine chance for Tildy. I would have recommended you; but, knowing of your previous engagement, I thought it best to refer him to the fair Matilda."
Miss Jane laughed, and answered, that "though she was engaged, she would have no objections to trying her charms upon another beau."
There was a strange expression upon Miss Bradly's face, and a flurried, excited manner, very different from her usually quiet demeanor.
Miss Jane went about the room collecting, here and there, a stray pocket handkerchief, under-sleeve, or chemisette; and, dashing them toward me, she said,
"Put these in wash, and do, pray, Ann, try to look more cheerful. Now, Miss Emily," she added, addressing Miss Bradly, "we have the worst servants in the world. There is Lindy, I believe the d—l is in her. She is so strange in her actions. I have to repeat a thing three or four times before she will understand me; and, as for Ann, she looks so sullen that it gives one the horrors to see her. I've a notion to bring Amy into the house. In the kitchen she is of no earthly service, and doesn't earn her salt. I think I'll persuade pa to sell some ofthese worthless niggers. They are no profit, and a terrible expense." Thereupon she was interrupted by the entrance of Miss Tildy, whose face was unusually excited. She did not perceive Miss Bradly, and so broke forth in a torrent of invectives against "niggers."
"I hate them. I wish this place were rid of every black face. Now we can't find that wretched Lindy anywhere, high nor low. Let me once get hold of her, and I'll be bound she shall remember it to the day of her death. Oh! Miss Bradly, is that you? pray excuse me for not recognizing you sooner; but since pa's sickness, these wretched negroes have half-taken the place, and I shouldn't be surprised if I were to forget myself," and with a kiss she seemed to think she had atoned to Miss Bradly for her forgetfulness.
To all of this Miss B. made no reply, I fancied (perhaps it was only fancy) that there was a shade of discontent upon her face; but she still preserved her silence, and Miss Tildy waxed warmer and warmer in her denunciation of ungrateful "niggers."
"Now, here, ours have every wish gratified; are treated well, fed well, clothed well, and yet we can't get work enough out of them to justify us in retaining our present number. As soon as pa gets well I intend to urge upon him the necessity of selling some of them. It is really too outrageous for us to be keeping such a number of the worthless wretches; actually eating us out of house and home. Besides, our family expenses are rapidly increasing. Brother must be sent off to college. It will not do to have his education neglected. I really am becoming quite ashamed of his want of preparation for a profession. I wish him sent to Yale, after first receiving a preparatory course in some less noted seminary,—then he will require a handsome outfit of books, and a wardrobe inferior to none at the institution; for, Miss Emily, I am determined our family shall have a position in every circle." As Miss Tildy pronounced these words, she stamped her foot in the most emphatic way, as if to confirm and ratify her determination.
"Yes," said Miss Jane, "I was just telling Miss Emily of our plans; and I think we may as well bring Amy in the house. She is of no account in the kitchen, and Lindy, Ginsy, and those brats, can be sold for a very pretty sum if taken to the city of L——, and put upon the block, or disposed of to some wealthy trader."
"What children?" asked Miss Bradly.
"Why, Amy's two sisters and brother, and Ginsy's child, and Ginsy too, if pa will let her go."
My heart ached well-nigh to bursting, when I heard this. Poor, poor Amy, child-sufferer! another drop of gall added to thy draught of wormwood—another thorn added to thy wearing crown. Oh, God! how I shuddered for the victim.
Miss Jane went on in her usual heartless tone. "It is expensive to keep them; they are no account, no profit to us; and young niggers are my 'special aversion. I have, for a long time, intended separating Amy from her two little sisters; she doesn't do anything but nurse that sickly child, Ben, and it is scandalous. You see, Miss Emily, we want an arbor erected in the yard, and a conservatory, and some new-style table furniture."
"Yes, and I want a set of jewels, and a good many additions to my wardrobe, and Jane wishes to spend a winter in the city. She will be forced to have a suitable outfit."
"Yes, and I am going to have everything I want, if the farm is to be sold," said Miss Jane, in a voice that no one dared to gainsay.
"But come, let me tell you, Tildy, about the new beau I have for you," said Miss Bradly.
Instantly Miss Tildy's eyes began to glisten. The word "beau" was the ready "sesame" to her good humor.
"Oh, now, dear, good Miss Emily, tell me something about him. Who is he? where from?" &c.
Miss Bradly smiled, coaxingly and lovingly, as she answered:
"Well, Tildy, darling, I have a friend from the North, who is travelling for pleasure through the valley of the Mississippi;and I promised to introduce him to some of the pretty ladies of the West; so, of course, I feel pride in introducing my two pupils to him."
This was a most agreeable sedative to their ill-nature; and both sisters came close to Miss Bradly, fairly covering her with caresses, and addressing to her words of flattery.
As soon as my services were dispensed with I repaired to the kitchen, where I found Aunt Polly in no very good or amiable mood. Something had gone wrong about the arrangements for supper. The chicken was not brown enough, or the cakes were heavy; something troubled her, and as a necessary consequence her temper was suffering.