"Not poppy nor mandragoraNor all the drowsy syrups of the world,Could then medicine me to that sweet sleepWhich I owed yesterday."
"Not poppy nor mandragoraNor all the drowsy syrups of the world,Could then medicine me to that sweet sleepWhich I owed yesterday."
"Not poppy nor mandragoraNor all the drowsy syrups of the world,Could then medicine me to that sweet sleepWhich I owed yesterday."
"Not poppy nor mandragora
Nor all the drowsy syrups of the world,
Could then medicine me to that sweet sleep
Which I owed yesterday."
I saw the dull gray streak of the morning beam, as coldly it played through the gratings of my room. There, scattered in dismal confusion over the floor, lay the poor human beings, for whose lives, health and happiness, save as conducing to the pecuniary advantage of the trafficker, no thought or care was taken. I rose hastily and adjusted my dress, for I had not removed it during the night. The noise of my rising aroused several of the others, and simultaneously they sprang to their feet, apprehensive that they had slept past the prescribed hour for rising. Finding that their alarm was groundless, and that they were by the clock an hour too early, they grumbled a good deal at what they thought my unnecessary awaking. I would have given much to win to my heart the easy indifference as to fate, which many of them wore like a loose glove; but there I was vulnerable at every pore, and wounded at each. What a curse to a slave's life is a sensitive nature!
That day closed as had the preceding, save that at evening Henry did not come as before. I wandered out in the yard, which was surrounded by a high brick-wall, covered at the top with sharp iron spikes, to prevent the escape of slaves. Through this barricaded ground I was allowed to take a little promenade. There was not a shrub or green blade of grass to enliven me; but my eyes lingered not upon the earth. They were turned up to the full moon, shining so round and goldenly from the purple heaven, and, scattered sparsely through the fields of azure, were a few stars, looking brighter and larger from their scarcity.
"Will my death-hour ever come?" I asked myself despairingly. "Have I not tasted of the worst of life? Is not the poisoned cup drained to its last dregs?"
I fancied that I heard a voice answer, as from the clouds,
"No, there are a few bitterer drops that must yet be drunk. Press the goblet still closer to your lips."
I shuddered coldly as the last tones of the imagined voice died away upon the soft night air.
"Is that," I cried, "a prophet warning? Comes it to me now that I may gird my soul for the approaching warfare? Let me, then, put on my helmet and buckler, and, like a life-tired soldier, rush headlong into the thickest of the fight, praying that the first bullet may prove a friend and drink my blood!"
Yet I shrank, like the weakest and most fearful of my race, when the distant cotton-fields rose upon my mental view! There, beneath the heat of a "hot and copper sky," I saw myself wearily tugging at my assigned task; yet my fear was not for the physical trouble that awaited me. Had Henry been going, "down the river" would have had no terror for me; but I was to part from joy, from love, from life itself! Oh, why, why have we—poor bondsmen and bondswomen—these fine and delicate sensibilities? Why do we love? Why are we not all coarse and hard, mere human beasts of burden, with no higher mental or moral conception, than obedience to the will or caprice of our owners?
Night closed over this second weary day. And thus passed on many days and nights. I did some plain sewing by way of employment, and at the command of a mulatto woman, who was the kept mistress of Atkins, and therefore placed in authority over us. Many of the women were hired out to residents of the city on trial, and if they were found to be agreeable and good servants, perhaps they were purchased. Before sending them out, Mr. Atkins always called them to him, and, shaking his cane over their heads, said,
"Now, you d——d hussy, or rascal (as they chanced to be male or female) if you behave yourselves well, you'll find agood home; but you dare to get sick or misbehave, and be sent back to me, and I'll thrash you in an inch of your cursed life."
With this demoniacal threat ringing in their ears, it is not likely that the poor wretches started off with any intention of bad conduct.
We constantly received accessions to our number, but never acquisitions, for the poor, ill-fed, ill-kept wretches that came in there, "sold (as Atkins said) for a mere song," were desolate and revolting to see.
Charley found one or two old books, that he seemed to read and re-read; indifferent novels, perhaps, that served, at least, to keep down the ravening tortures of thought. I lent him my Testament, and he read a great deal in it. He said that he had one, but had left it with his wife. He was a member of the Methodist Church; had gone on Sunday afternoons to a school that had been established for the benefit of colored people, and thus, unknown to his master, had acquired the first principles of a good education. He could read and write, and was in possession of the rudiments of arithmetic. He told me that his wife had not had the opportunities he had, and therefore she was more deficient, but he added, "she had a great thirst for knowledge, such as I have never seen excelled, and rarely equalled. I have known her, after the close of her daily labors, devote the better portion of the night to study. I gave her all the instruction I could, and she was beginning to read with considerable accuracy; but all that is over, past and gone now." And again he ground his teeth fiercely, and a wild, lurid light gathered in his eye.
This man almost made me oblivious of my own grief, in sympathy for his. I did all I could by "moral suasion," as the politicians say, to soften his resentment. I bade him turn his thoughts toward that religion which he had espoused.
"I have no religion for this," he would bitterly say.
And in truth, I fear me much if the heroism of saints would hold out on such occasions. There, fastened to that impassioned husband's heart, playing with its dearest chords, was thefang-like hand of the white man! Oh, slow tortures! in comparison to which that of Prometheus was very pleasure. There is no Tartarus like that of wounded, agonized domestic love! Far away from him, in a lonely cabin, he beheld his stricken wife and all his "pretty chickens" pining and unprotected.
Slowly, after a few days, he relapsed into that stony sort of despair that denies itself the gratification of speech. The change was very painfully visible to me, and I tried, by every artifice, to arouse him; but I had no power to wake him.
"Give sorrow words; the grief that does not speak,Whispers the o'erfraught heart, and bids it break."
"Give sorrow words; the grief that does not speak,Whispers the o'erfraught heart, and bids it break."
"Give sorrow words; the grief that does not speak,Whispers the o'erfraught heart, and bids it break."
"Give sorrow words; the grief that does not speak,
Whispers the o'erfraught heart, and bids it break."
And soon learning this, I left him, a remorseless prey to that "rooted sorrow" of the brain.
* * * * * * *
One day, as we all sat in the shed-room, engaged at our various occupations, we were roused by a noise of violent weeping, and something like a rude scuffle just without the door, when suddenly Atkins entered, dragging after him, with his hand close about his throat, a poor negro man, aged and worn, with a head white as cotton.
"Oh, please, Masser, jist let me go back, an' tell de ole 'ooman farewell, an' I won't ax for any more."
"No, you old rascal, you wants to run away. If you say another word about the old voman, I'll beat the life out of you."
"Oh lor', oh lor', de poor ole 'ooman an' de boys; oh my ole heart will bust!" and, sobbing like a child, the old man sank down upon the floor, in the most abandoned grief.
"Here, boys, some of you git the fiddle and play, an' I warrant that old fool will be dancin' in a minnit," said Atkins in his unfeeling way.
Of course this speech met with the most signal applause from "de boys" addressed.
I watched the expression of Charles' face. It was frightful.He sat in one corner, as usual, with an open book in his hand. From it he raised his eyes, and, whilst the scene between Atkins and the old negro was going on, they flashed with an expression that I could not fathom. His brows knit, and his lip curled, yet he spoke no word.
When Atkins withdrew, the old man lay there, still weeping and sobbing piteously. I went up to him, kindly saying,
"What is the matter, old uncle?"
The sound of a kind voice aroused him, and looking up through his streaming tears, he said,
"Oh, chile, I's got a poor ole 'ooman dat lives 'bout half mile in de country. Masser fotch me in town to-day, an' say he was agwine to hire me fur a few weeks. Wal, I beliebed him, bekase Masser has bin hard run fur money, an' I was willin' to hope him 'long, so I consented to be hired in town fur little while, and den go out an' see de ole 'ooman an' de boys Saturday nights. Wal, de fust thing I knowed when I got to town I was sold to a trader. Masser wouldn't tell me hisself; but, when I got here, de gemman what I thought I was hired to, tole me dat Masser Atkins had bought me; an' I wanted to go back an' ask Masser, but he laughed an' say 'twant no use, Masser done gone out home. Oh, lor'! 'peared like dere was nobody to trus' to den. I begged to go an' say good-bye; but dey 'fused me dat, an' Masser Atkins 'gan to swear, an' he struck me 'cross de head. Oh, I didn't tink Masser wud do me so in my ole age!"
I ask you, reader, if for a sorrow like this there was any word of comfort? I thought not, and did not dare try to offer any.
"Will scenes like these ever cease?" I fretfully asked, as I turned to Charles.
"Never!" was the bitter answer.
This old man talked constantly of his little woolly-headed boys. When telling of their sportive gambols, he would smile, even whilst the tears were flowing down his cheeks.
He often had a crowd of slaves around him listening to histalk of "wife and children," but I seldom made one of the number, for it saddened me too much. I knew that he was telling of joys that could never come to him again.
On one of these occasions, when uncle Peter, as he was called, was deep in the merits of his conversation, I was sitting in the corner of the room sewing, when Luce came running breathlessly up to me, with a bunch of beautiful flowers in her hand.
"Oh, Ann," she exclaimed, "dat likely-lookin' yallow man, dat cum to see you, an' fotch yer trunk de fust night yer comed here, was passin' by, an' I was stanin' at de gate; an' he axed me to han' dis to you."
And she gave me the bouquet, which I took, breathing a thousand blessings upon the head of my devoted Henry.
I had often wondered why Louise had never been to see me. She knew very well where I was, and access to me was easy. But I was not long kept in suspense, for, on that very night she came, bringing with her a few sweetmeats, which I distributed among those of my companions who felt more inclined to eat them than I did.
"I have wondered, Louise, why you did not come sooner."
"Well, the fact is, Ann, I've been busy trying to find you a home. I couldn't bear to come without bringing you good news. Henry and I have worked hard. All of our leisure moments have been devoted to it. We have scoured this city over, but with no success; and, hearing yesterday that Mr. Atkins would start down the river to-morrow, with all of you, I could defer coming no longer. Poor Henry is too much distressed to come! He says he'll not sleep this night, but will ransack the city till he finds somebody able and willing to rescue you."
"How does he look?" I asked.
"Six years older than when you saw him last. He takes this very hard; has lost his appetite, and can't sleep at night."
I said nothing; but my heart was full, full to overflowing. Ilonged to be alone, to fall with my face on the earth and weep. The presence of Louise restrained me, for I always shrank from exposing my feelings.
"Are we going to-morrow?" I inquired.
"Yes, Mr. Atkins told me so this evening. Did you not know of it?"
"No, indeed; am I among the lot?"
After a moment's hesitation she replied,
"Yes, he told me that you were, and, on account of your beauty, he expected you would bring a good price in the Southern market. Oh heavens, Ann, this is too dreadful to repeat; yet you will have to know of it."
"Oh yes, yes;" and I could no longer restrain myself; I fell, weeping, in her arms.
She could not remain long with me, for Mr. Atkins closed up the establishment at half-past nine. Bidding me an affectionate farewell, and assuring me that she would, with Henry, do all that could be done for my relief, she left me.
A most wretched, phantom-peopled night was that! Ten thousand horrors haunted me! Of course I slept none; but imagination seemed turned to a fiend, and tortured me in divers ways.
SCENE IN THE PEN—STARTING "DOWN THE RIVER"—UNCLE PETER'S TRIAL—MY RESCUE.
On the next day, after breakfast, Mr. Atkins came in, saying,
"Well, niggers, git yourselves ready. You must all start down the river to-day, at ten o'clock. A good boat is going out. Huddle up your clothes as quick as possible—no fuss, now."
When he left, there was lamentation among some; silent mourning with others; joy for a few.
Shall I ever forget the despairing look of Charley? How passionately he compressed his lips! I went up to him, and, laying my hand on his arm, said,
"Let us be strong to meet the trouble that is sent us!"
He looked at me, but made no reply. I thought there was the wildness of insanity in his glance, and turned away.
It was now eight o'clock, and I had not heard from Henry or Louise. Alas! my heart misgave me. I had been buoyed up for some time by the flatteries and delusions of Hope! but now I felt that I had nothing to sustain me; the last plank had sunk!
I did not pretend to "get myself ready," as Mr. Atkins had directed; the fact is, I was ready. The few articles of wearing apparel that I called mine were all in my trunk, with some little presents that Henry had made me, such as a brooch, earrings, &c. These were safely locked, and the key hung round my neck. But the others were busy "getting ready." I was standing near the door, anxiously hoping to see either Henry or Louise, when an old negro woman, thinly clad, without any bonnet on her head, and with a basket in her hand, came up to me, saying,
"Please mam, is my ole man in here? De massa out here say I may speak 'long wid him, and say farwell;" and she wiped her eyes with the corner of an old torn check apron.
I was much touched, and asked her the name of her old man.
"Pete, mam."
"Oh, yes, he is within," and I stepped aside to let her pass through the door.
She went hobbling along, making her passage through the crowd, and I followed after. In a few moments Pete saw her.
"Oh dear! oh dear!" he cried out, "Judy is come;" and running up to her, he embraced her most affectionately.
"Yes," she said, "I begged Masser to let me come and see you. It was long time before he told me dat you was sole to a trader and gwine down de ribber. Oh, Lord! it 'pears like I ken never git usin to it! Dars no way for me ever to hear from you. You kan't write, neither ken I. Oh, what shill we do?"
"I doesn't know, Judy, we's in de hands ob de Lord. We mus' trus' to Him. Maybe He'll save us. Keep on prayin', Judy."
The old man's voice grew very feeble, as he asked,
"An de chillen, de boys, how is dey?"
"Oh, dey is well. Sammy wanted to come long 'wid me; but it was too fur for him to walk. Joe gib me dis, and say, take it to daddy from me."
She looked in her basket, and drew out a little painted cedar whistle. The tears rolled down the old man's cheeks as he took it, and, looking at it, he shook his head mournfully,
"Poor boy, dis is what I give him fur a Christmas gift, an' he sot a great store to it. Only played wid it of Sundays and holidays. No, take it back to him, an' tell him to play wid it, and never forget his poor ole daddy dat's sole 'way down de ribber!"
Here he fairly broke down, and, bursting into tears, wept aloud.
"Oh, God hab bin marciful to me in lettin' me see you, Judy, once agin! an' I am an ongrateful sinner not to bar up better."
Judy was weeping violently.
"Oh, if dey would but buy me! I wants to go long wid you."
"No, no, Judy, you must stay long wid de chillen, an' take kere ob 'em. Besides, you is not strong enough to do de work dey would want you to do. No, I had better go by myself," and he wiped his eyes with his old coat sleeve.
"I wish," he added, "dat I had some little present to send de boys," and, fumbling away in his pocket, he at length drew out two shining brass buttons that he had picked up in the yard.
"Give dis to 'em; say it was all thar ole daddy had to send 'em; but, maybe, some time I'll have some money; and if I meet any friends down de ribber, I'll send it to 'em, and git a letter writ back to let you and 'em know whar I is sold."
Judy opened her basket, and handed him a small bundle.
"Here, Pete, is a couple of shirts and a par of trowsers I fetched you, and here's a good par of woollen socks to keep you warm in de winter; and dis is one of Masser's ole woollen undershirts dat Missis sent you. You know how you allers suffers in cold wedder wid de rheumatiz."
"Tell Missis thankee," and his voice was choking in his throat.
There was many a tearful eye among the company, looking at this little scene. But, suddenly it was broken up by the appearance of Mr. Atkins.
"Well, ole woman," he began, addressing Uncle Pete's wife, "it is time you was agoin'. You has staid long enough. Thar's no use in makin' a fuss. Pete belongs to me, an' I am agoin' to sell him to the highest bidder I can find down the river."
"Oh, Masser, won't you please buy me?" asked Judy.
"No, you old fool."
"Oh, hush Judy, pray hush," put in Pete; "humor her a little Masser Atkins, she will go in a minnit. Now do go, honey," he added, addressing Judy, who stood a moment, irresolutely, regarding her old husband; then screaming out, "Oh no, no, I can't leave you!" fell down at his feet half insensible.
"Oh, Lord Jesus, hab marcy!" groaned Pete, as he bent over his partner's body.
"Take her out, instantly," exclaimed Atkins, as one of the men dragged the body out.
"Please be kereful, don't hurt her," implored Pete.
"Behave yourself, and don't go near her," said Atkins to him, "or I'll have both you an' her flogged. I am not goin' to have these fusses in my pen."
All this time Charley's face was frightful. As Atkins passed along he looked toward Charley, and I thought he quailed before him. That regal face of the mulatto man was well calculated to awe such a sinister and small soul as Atkins.
"Yes, yes, Charles, that proud spirit of yourn will git pretty well broken down in the cotton fields," he murmured, just loud enough to be heard. Charles made no answer, though I observed that his cheek fairly blazed.
* * * * * *
When we were all bonneted, trunks corded down, and bundles tied up, waiting, in the shed-room, for the order to get in the omnibus, Uncle Pete suddenly spied the basket which Judy, in her insensibility, had left. Picking it up, I saw the tears glitter in his eyes when the two bright buttons rolled out on the floor.
"These puttys," he muttered to himself, "was fur de boys. Poor fellows! Now dey won't have any keepsake from dar daddy; and den here's de little cedar whistle; oh, I wish I could send it out to 'em." Looking round the room he saw Kitty, the mulatto woman, of whom I have before spoken as the mistress of Atkins.
"Oh, please, Kitty, will you have dis basket, dis whistle, and dese putty buttons, sent out to Mr. John Jones', to my ole 'ooman Judy?'
"Yes," answered the woman, "I will."
"Thankee mam, and you'll very much oblige me."
"Come 'long with you all. The omnibus is ready," cried out Atkins, and we all took up the line of march for the door,each pausing to say good-bye to Kitty, and yet none caring much for her, as she had not been agreeable to us.
"Going down the river, really," I said to myself.
"Wait a minnit," said Atkins, and calling to a sort of foreman, who did his roughest work, he bade him handcuff us.
How fiercely-proud looked the face of Charles, as they fastened the manacles on his wrists.
I made no complaint, nor offered resistance. My heart was maddened. I almost blamed Louise, and chided Henry for not forcing my deliverance. I could have broken the handcuffs, so strongly was I possessed by an unnatural power.
"Git in the 'bus," said the foreman, as he riveted on the last handcuff.
Just as I had taken my seat in the omnibus, Henry came frantically rushing up. The great beads of perspiration stood upon his brow; and his thick, hard breathing, was frightful. Sinking down upon the ground, all he could say was,
"Ann! Ann!"
I rose and stood erect in the omnibus, looking at him, but dared not move one step toward him.
"What is the matter with that nigger?" inquired Atkins, pointing toward Henry. Then addressing the driver, he bade him drive down to the wharf.
"Stop! stop!" exclaimed Henry; "in Heaven's name stop, Mr. Atkins, here's a gentleman coming to buy Ann. Wait a moment."
Just then a tall, grave-looking man, apparently past forty, walked up.
"Who the d——l is that?" gruffly asked Mr. Atkins.
"It is Mr. Moodwell," Henry replied. "He has come to buy Ann."
"Who said that I wanted to sell her?"
"You would let her go for a fair price, wouldn't you?"
"No, but I would part with her for a first-rate one."
Just then, as hope began to relume my soul, Mr. Moodwell approached Atkins, saying,
"I wish to buy a yellow girl of you."
"Which one?"
"A girl by the name of Ann. Where is she?"
"Don't you know her by sight?"
"Certainly not, for I have never seen her."
"You don't want to buy without first seeing her?"
"I take her upon strong recommendation."
With a dogged, and I fancied disappointed air, Atkins bade me stand forth. Right willingly I obeyed; and appearing before Mr. Moodwell, with a smiling, hopeful face, I am not surprised that he was pleased with me, and readily paid down the price of a thousand dollars that was demanded by Atkins. When I saw the writings drawn up, and became aware that I had passed out of the trader's possession, and could remain near Henry, I lifted my eyes to Heaven, breathing out an ardent act of adoration and gratitude.
Quickly Henry stood beside me, and clasping my yielding hand within his own, whispered,
"You are safe, dear Ann."
I had no words wherewith to express my thankfulness; but the happy tears that glistened in my eyes, and the warm pressure of the hand that I gave, assured him of the sincerity of my gratitude.
My trunk was very soon taken down from the top of the omnibus and shouldered by Henry.
Looking up at my companions, I beheld the savagely-stern face of Charles; and thinking of his troubles, I blamed myself for having given up to selfish joy, when such agony was within my sight. I rushed up to the side of the omnibus and extended my hand to him.
"God has taken care of you," he said, with a groan, "but I am forgotten!"
"Don't despair of His mercy, Charley." More I could not say; for the order was given them to start, and the heavy vehicle rolled away.
As I turned toward Henry he remarked the shadow upon my brow, and tenderly inquired the cause.
"I am distressed for Charley."
"Poor fellow! I would that I had the power to relieve him."
"Come on, come on," said Mr. Moodwell, and we followed him to the G—— House, where I found Louise, anxiously waiting for me.
"You are safe, thank Heaven!" she exclaimed, and joyful tears were rolling down her smooth cheeks.
The reaction of feeling was too powerful for me, and my health sank under it. I was very ill for several weeks, with fever. Louise and Henry nursed me faithfully. Mr. Moodwell had purchased me for a maiden sister of his, who was then travelling in the Southern States, and I was left at the G—— House until I should get well, at which time, if she should not have returned, I was to be hired out until she came. I recollect well when I first opened my eyes, after an illness of weeks. I was lying on a nice bed in Louise's room. As it was a cool evening in the early October, there was a small comfort-diffusing fire burning in the grate; and on a little stand, beside my bed, was a very pretty and fragrant bouquet. Seated near me, with my hand in his, was the one being on earth whom I best loved. He was singing in a low, musical tone, the touching Ethiopian melody of "Old Folks at Home." Slowly my eyes opened upon the pleasant scene! Looking into his deep, witching eyes, I murmured low, whilst my hand returned the pressure of his,
"Is it you, dear Henry?"
"It is I, my love; I have just got through with my work, and I came to see you. Finding you asleep, I sat down beside you to hum a favorite air; but I fear, that instead of calming, I have broken your slumber, sweet."
"No, dearest, I am glad to be aroused. I feel so much better than I have felt for weeks. My head is free from fever, and except for the absence of strength, am as well as I ever was."
"Oh, it makes me really happy to hear you say so. I have been so uneasy about you. The doctor was afraid ofcongestion of the brain. You cannot know how I suffered in mind about you; but now your flesh feels cool and pleasant, and your strength will, I trust, soon return."
Just then Louise entered, bearing a cup of tea and a nice brown slice of toast, and a delicate piece of chicken, on a neat little salver. At sight of this dainty repast, my long-forgotten appetite returned, with a most healthful vigor. But my kind nurse, who was glad to find me so well, determined to keep me so, and would not allow me a hearty indulgence of appetite.
In a few days I was able to sit up in an easy chair, and, at every opportunity, Louise would amuse me with some piece of pleasant gossip, in relation to the boarders, &c. And Henry, my good, kind, noble Henry, spent all his spare change in buying oranges and pine-apples for me, and in sending rare bouquets, luxuries in which I took especial delight. Then, during the long, cheerful autumnal evenings, when a fire sparkled in the grate, he would, after his work was done, bring his banjo and play for me; whilst his rich, gushing voice warbled some old familiar song. Its touching plaintiveness often brought the tears to my eyes.
Thus passed a few weeks pleasantly enough for me; but like all the other rose-winged hours, they soon had a close.
My strength had been increasing rapidly, and Mr. Moodwell, the brother and agent of my mistress, concluded that I was strong enough to be hired out. Accordingly, he apprized me of his intention, saying,
"Ann, sister Nancy has written me word to hire you out until spring, when she will return and take you home. I have selected a place for you, in the capacity of house-servant. You must behave yourself well."
I assured him that I would do my best; then asked the name of the family to whom I was hired.
"To Josiah Smith, on Chestnut street, I have hired you. He has two daughters and a young niece living with him, and wishes you to wait on them."
After apprizing Henry and Louise of my new home,pro tem.,I requested the former to bring my trunk out that night, which he readily promised. Bidding them a kind and cheerful adieu, I followed Mr. Moodwell out to Chestnut street.
This is one of the most retired and beautiful streets in the city of L——, and Mr. Josiah Smith's residence the very handsomest among a number of exceedingly elegant mansions.
Opening a bronze gate, we passed up a broad tesselated stone walk that led to the house, which was built of pure white stone, and three stories in height, with an observatory on the top, and the front ornamented with a richly-wrought iron verandah. Reposing in front upon the sward, were two couchant tigers of dark gray stone.
Passing through the verandah, we stopped at the mahogany door until Mr. Moodwell pulled the silver bell-knob, which was speedily answered by a neatly-dressed man-servant, who bade Mr. Moodwell walk in the parlor, and requested me to wait without the door until he could find leisure to attend to me.
I obeyed this direction, and amused myself examining what remained of a very handsome flower-garden, until he returned, when conducting me around, by a private entrance, he ushered me into the kitchen.
THE NEW HOME—A PLEASANT FAMILY GROUP—QUIET LOVE-MEETINGS.
I became domesticated very soon in Mr. Josiah Smith's family. I learned what my work was, and did it very faithfully, and I believe to their satisfaction.
The family proper consisted of Mr. Smith, his wife, two daughters, and a niece. Mr. Smith was a merchant, of considerable wealth and social influence, and the young ladies were belles par-excellence. Mrs. Smith was the domestic of the concern, who carried on the establishment, a little, busy, fussy sort of woman, that went sailing it round the house with a huge bunch of keys dangling at her side, an incessant scold, with a voice sharp and clear like a steamboat bell; a managing, thrifty sort of person, a perfect terror to negroes; up of a morning betimes, and in the kitchen, fussing with the cook about breakfast.
I had very little to do with Mrs. Letitia. My business was almost exclusively with the young ladies. I cleaned and arranged their rooms, set the parlors right, swept and dusted them, and then attended to the dining-room. This part of my work threw me under Mrs. Letitia's dynasty; but as I generally did my task well, she had not much objection to make, though her natural fault-finding disposition sharpened her optics a good deal, and she generally discovered something about which to complain.
Miss Adele Smith was the elder of the two daughters, a tall, pale girl, with dark hair, carefully banded over a smooth, polished brow, large black eyes and a pleasing manner.
The second, Miss Nellie, was a round, plump girl of blonde complexion, fair hair and light eyes, with a rich peach-flush on her cheek, and a round, luscious, cherry-red mouth, that was always curling and curvetting with smiles.
The cousin, Lulu Carey, was a real romantic character, with a light, fragile form, milk-white skin, the faintest touch of carmine playing over the cheek, mellow gray eyes, earnest and loving, and a profusion of chestnut-brown hair fell in the richest ringlets to her waist. Her features and caste of face were perfect. She was habited in close mourning, for her mother had been dead but one year, and the half-perceptible shadow of grief that hung over her face, form and manner, rendered her glorious beauty even more attractive.
It was a real pleasure to me to serve these young ladies, for though they were the élite, the cream of the aristocracy, they were without those offensive "airs" that render the fashionable society of the West so reprehensible. Though their parlors were filled every evening with the gayest company, and they were kept up late, they always came to their rooms with pleasant smiles and gracious words, and often chided me for remaining out of bed.
"Don't wait for us, Ann," they would say. "It isn't right to keep you from your rest on our account."
I slept on a pallet in their chamber, and took great delight in remaining up until they came, and then assisted them in disrobing.
It was the first time I had ever known white ladies (and young) to be amiable, and seemingly philanthropic, and of course a very powerful interest was excited for them. They had been educated in Boston, and had imbibed some of the liberal and generous principles that are, I think, indigenous to high Northern latitudes. Indeed, I believe Miss Lulu strongly inclined toward their social and reformatory doctrines, though she did not dare give them any very open expression, for Mr. and Mrs. Josiah Smith were strong pro-slavery, conservative people, and would not have countenanced any dissent from their opinions.
Mrs. Smith used to say, "Niggers ought to be exterminated."
And Miss Lulu, in her quiet way, would reply,
"Yes, as slaves they should be exterminated."
And then how pretty and naïvely she arched her pencilled brows. This was always understood by the sisters, who must have shared her liberal views.
Mr. Smith was so much absorbed in mercantile matters, that he seldom came home, except at meals or late at night, when the household was wrapped in sleep; and, even on Sundays, when all the world took rest, he was locked up in his counting-room. This seemed singular to me, for a man of Mr. Smith's reputed and apparent wealth might have found time, at least on Sunday, for quiet.
The young ladies were very prompt and regular in their attendance at church, but I used often to hear Miss Lulu exclaim, after returning,
"Why don't they give us something new? These old rags of theology weary, not to say annoy me. If Christianity is marching so rapidly on, why have we still, rising up in our very midst, institutions the vilest and most revolting! Why are we cursed with slavery? Why have we houses of prostitution, where beauty is sold for a price? Why have we pest and alms-houses? Who is the poor man's friend? Who is there with enough of Christ's spirit to speak kindly to the Magdalene, and bid her 'go and sin no more'? Alas, for Christianity to-day!"
"But we must accept life as it is, and patiently wait the coming of the millennium, when things will be as they ought," was Miss Adele's reply.
"Oh, now coz, don't you and sis go to speculating upon life's troubles, but come and tell me what I shall wear to the party to-morrow night," broke from the gay lips of the lively Nellie.
In this strain I've many times heard them talk, but it always wound up with a smile at the suggestion of the volatile Miss Nellie.
When I had been there but two days, I began to suspect Mrs.Smith's disposition, for she several times declared her opinion that niggers had no business with company, and that her's shouldn't have any. This was a damper to my hopes, for my chief motive for wishing to be sold in L—— was the pleasure I expected to derive from Henry's society. Every night, as early as eight, the servants were ordered to their respective quarters, and, as I slept in the house, a stolen interview with him would have been impossible, as Mrs. Smith was too alert for me to make an unobserved exit. On the second evening of my sojourn there, Henry called to see me about half-past seven o'clock; and, just as I was beginning to yield myself up to pleasure, Mrs. Smith came to the kitchen, and, seeing him there, asked,
"Whose negro is this?"
"Henry Graham is my name, Missis," was the reply.
"Well, what business have you here?"
Henry was embarrassed; he hung his head, and, after a moment, faltered out,
"I came to see Ann, Missis."
"Where do you belong?"
"I belong to Mr. Graham, but am hired to the G—— House."
"Well, then, go right there; and, if ever I catch you in my kitchen again, I'll send your master word, and have you well flogged. I don't allow negro men to come to see my servants. I want them to have no false notions put into their heads. A nigger has no business visiting; let him stay at home and do his master's work. I shouldn't be surprised if I missed something out of the kitchen, and if I do, I shall know that you stole it, and you shall be whipped for it; so shall Ann, for daring to bring strange niggers into my kitchen. Now, clear yourself, man."
With an humbled, mortified air, Henry took his leave. A thousand scorpions were writhing in my breast. That he, my love, so honest, noble, honorable, and gentlemanly in all his feelings, should be so accused almost drove me to madness. I could not bear to have his pride so bowed and hisdearly-cherished principles outraged. From that day I entertained no kind feeling for Mrs. Smith.
On another occasion, a Saturday afternoon, when Louise came to sit a few moments with me, she heard of it, and, rushing down stairs, ordered her to leave on the instant, adding that her great abomination was free niggers, and she wouldn't have them lurking round her kitchen, corrupting her servants, and, perhaps, purloining everything within their reach.
Louise was naturally of a quick and passionate disposition; and, to be thus wantonly and harshly treated, was more than she could bear. So she furiously broke forth, and such a scene as occurred between them was disgraceful to humanity! Miss Adele hearing the noise instantly came out, and in a positive tone ordered Louise to leave; which order was obeyed. After hearing from her mother a correct statement of the case, Miss Adele burst into tears and went to her room. I afterward heard her kindly remonstrating with her mother upon the injustice of such a course of conduct toward her servants. But Mrs. Smith was confirmed in her notions. They had been instilled into her early in life; had grown with her growth and strengthened with her years. So it was not possible for her young and philanthropic daughter to remove them. Once, when Miss Adele was quite sick, and after I had been nursing her indefatigably for some time, she said to me,
"Ann, you have told me the story of your love. I have been thinking of Henry, and pitying his condition, and trying to devise some way for you to see him."
"Thank you, Miss Adele, you are very kind."
"The plan I have resolved upon is this: I will pretend to send you out of evenings on errands for me; you can have an understanding with Henry, and meet at some certain point; then take a walk or go to a friend's; but always be careful to get home before ten o'clock."
This was kindness indeed, and I felt the grateful tears gathering in my eyes! I could not speak, but knelt down beside the bed, and reverently kissed the hem of her robe. Goodness suchas hers, charity and love to all, elicited almost my very worship!
I remember the first evening that I carried this scheme into effect. She was sitting in a large arm-chair, carefully wrapped up in the folds of an elegant velvetrobe-de-chambre. Her mother, sister, and cousin were beside her, all engaged in a cheerful conversation, when she called me to her, and pretended to give me some errand to attend to out in the city, telling mepointedlythat it would require my attention until near ten o'clock. How like a lovely earth-angel appeared she then!
I had previously apprized Henry of the arrangement, and named a point of meeting. Upon reaching it, I found him already waiting for me. We took a long stroll through the lamp-lit streets, talking of the blessed hopes that struggled in our bosoms; of the faint divinings of the future; told over the story of past sufferings, and renewed olden vows of devotion.
He, with the most lover-like fondness, had brought me some little gift; for this I kindly reproved him, saying that all his money should be appropriated to himself, that, by observing a rigid economy, we but hastened on the glorious day of release from bondage. Before ten I was at home, and waiting beside Miss Adele. How kindly she asked me if I had enjoyed myself; and with what pride I told her of the joy that her kindness had afforded me! Surely the sweet smile that played so luminously over her fair face was a reflex of the peace that irradiated her soul! How beautifully she illustrated, in her single life, the holy ministrations of true womanhood! Did she not, with kind words and generous acts, "strive to bind up the bruised, broken heart." At the very mention of her name, aye, at the thought of her even, I never fail to invoke a blessing upon her life!
Thus, for weeks and months, through her ingenuity, I saw Henry and Louise frequently. Otherwise, how dull and dreary would have seemed to me that long, cold winter, with its heaped snow-banks, its dull, gray sky, its faint, chill sun, and leafless trees; but the sunbeam of her kindness made the season bright, warm and grateful!
THE NEW ASSOCIATES—DEPRAVED VIEWS—ELSY'S MISTAKE—DEPARTURE OF THE YOUNG LADIES—LONELINESS.
In Mr. Smith's family of servants was Emily, the cook, a sagacious woman, but totally without education, knowledge, or the peculiar ambition that leads to its acquisition. She was a bold, raw, unthinking spirit; and, from the fact that she had been kept closely confined to the house, never allowed any social pleasure, she resolved to be revenged, and unfortunately in her desire for "spite" (as she termed it), had sacrificed her character, and was the mother of two children, with unacknowledged fathers. Possessed of a violent temper, she would, at periods, rave like a mad-woman; and only the severest lashing could bring her into subjection. She was my particular terror. Her two children, half-bloods, were little, sick, weasly things that excited the compassion of all beholders, and though two years of age (twins), were, from some physical derangement, unable to walk.
There was also a man servant, Duke, who attended to odd ends of housework, and served in the capacity of decorated carriage-driver, and a girl, Elsy, a raw, green, country concern, good-natured and foolish, with a face as black as tar. They had hired her from a man in the country, and she being quite delighted with town and the off-cast finery of the ladies, was as happy asshecould be—yet the mistakes she constantly made were truly amusing. She had formed quite an attachment for Duke, which he did not in the slightest degree return; yet, with none of the bashfulness of her sex, she confessed to the feeling, and declared that "Duke was very mean not to loveher a little." This never failed to excite the derision of the more sprightly Emily.
"Well, you is a fool," she would exclaim, with an odd shake of the head.
"I loves him, and don't kere who knows it."
"Does he love you?" asked Emily.
"Well, he doesn't."
"Then I'd hate him," replied Emily, as, with a great force, she brought her rolling-pin down on the table.
"No, I wouldn't," answered the loving Elsy.
"You ain't worth shucks."
"Wish I was worth Duke."
"Hush, fool."
"You needn't git mad, kase I don't think as you does."
"I is mad bekase you is a fool."
"Who made me one?"
"You was born it, I guess."
"Then I aren't to blame fur it. Them that made me is."
Conversations like this were of frequent occurrence, and once, when I ventured to ask Elsy if she wouldn't like to learn to read, she laughed heartily, saying:
"Does you think I wants to run off?"
"Certainly not."
"Den why did you ax me if I wanted to larn to read?"
"So you might have a higher source of enjoyment than you now have."
"Oh, yes, so as to try to git my freedom! You is jist a spy fur de white folks, and wants to know if I'll run away. Go off, now, and mind yer own business, kase I has hearn my ole Masser, in de country, say dat whenever niggers 'gan to read books dey was ob no 'count, and allers had freedom in dar heads."
Finding her thus obstinate, I gave up all attempts to persuade her, and left her to that mental obscuration in which I found her. Emily sometimes threatened to apply herself, with vigor, to the gaining of knowledge, and thus defeat and "spite" her owners; but knowledge so obtained, I think, would be oflittle avail, for, like religion, it must be sought after from higher motives—sought for itselfonly.
I could find but little companionship with those around me, and lived more totally within myself than I had ever done. Many times have I gone to my room, and in silence wept over the isolation in which my days were spent; but three nights out of the seven were marked with white stones, for on these I held blissful re-unions with Henry. Our appointed spot for meeting was near an old pump, painted green, which was known as the "green pump," a very favorite one, as the water, pure limestone, was supposed to be better, cooler, and stronger than that of others. Much has been written, by our popular authors, on the virtues and legends of old town pumps, but, to me, this one had a beauty, a charm, a glory which no other inanimate object in wide creation possessed! And of a moonlight night, when I descried, at a distance, its friendly handle, outstretched like an arm of welcome, I have rushed up and grasped it with a right hearty good feeling! Long time afterwards, when it had ceased to be a love-beacon to me, I never passed it without taking a drink from its old, rusty ladle, and the water, like the friendly draught contained in the magic cup of eastern story, transported me over the waste of time to poetry and love! Even here I pause to wipe away the fond, sad tears, which the recollection of that old "green pump" calls up to my mind, and I should love to go back and stand beside it, and drink, aye deeply, of its fresh, cool water! There are now many stately mansions in that growing city, that sits like a fairy queen upon the shore of the charmed Ohio; but away from all its lofty structures and edifices of wealth, away from her public haunts, her galleries and halls, would I turn, to pay homage to the old "green pump"!
Some quiet evenings, too, had I in Louise's room, listening to Henry sing, while he played upon his banjo. His voice was fine, full, and round, and rang out with the clearness of a bell. Though possessed of but slight cultivation, I considered it the finest one I ever heard.
But again my pleasures were brought to a speedy close. As the winter began to grow more cold, and the city more dull, the young ladies began to talk of a jaunt to New Orleans. Their first determination was to carry me with them; but, after calculating the "cost," they concluded it was better to go without a servant, and render all necessary toilette services to each other. They had no false pride—thanks to their Northern education for that!
Before their departure they gave quite a large dinner-party, served up in the most fantastic manner, consisting of six different courses. I officiated as waiter, assisted by Duke. Owing to the scarcity of servants in the family, Elsy was forced to attend the door, and render what assistance she could at the table.
Whilst they were engaged on the fourth course, a violent ring was heard at the door-bell, which Elsy was bound to obey.
In a few moments she returned, saying to one of the guests:
"Miss Allfield, a lady wishes to speak with you."
"With me?" interrogated the lady.
"Yes, marm."
"Who can she be?" said Miss Allfield, in surprise.
"Bid the lady be seated in the parlor, and say that Miss Allfield is at dinner," replied Mrs. Smith.
"If the company will excuse me, I will attend to this unusual visitor," said Miss Allfield, as she rose to leave.
"It is a colored lady, and she is waitin' fur you at the door," put in Elsy.
The blank amazement that sat upon the face of each guest, may be better imagined than described! Some of them were ready to go into convulsions of laughter. A moment of dead silence reigned around, when Miss Nellie set the example of a hearty laugh, in which all joined, except Mr. and Mrs. Smith, whose faces were black as a tempest-cloud.
But there stood the offending Elsy, all unconscious of her guilt. When she first came to town, she had been in the habit of announcing company to the ladies as "a man wants to seeyou," or "a woman is in the parlor," and had, every time, been severely reprimanded, and told that she should say "a lady or gentleman is in the parlor." And the poor, green creature, in her great regard for "ears polite," did not know how to make the distinction between the races; but most certainly was she taught it by the severe whipping that was administered to her afterwards by Mr. Smith. No intercession or entreaty from the ladies could be of any avail. Upon Elsy's bare back must the atonement be made! After this public whipping, she was held somewhat in disgrace by the other servants. Duke gave her a very decided cut, and Emily, who had never liked her, was now lavish in her abuse and ill-treatment. She even struck the poor, offenceless creature many blows; and from this there was no redemption, for she was in sad disrepute with Mr. and Mrs. Smith; and, after the young ladies' departure, she had no friend at all, for I was too powerless to be of use to her.
* * * * * * *
The remainder of the winter was dull indeed. My interviews with Henry had been discontinued; and I never saw Louise. I had no time for reading. It was work, work, delve and drudge until my health sank under it. Mrs. Smith never allowed us any time on Sundays, and the idea of a negro's going to church was outrageous.
"No," she replied, when I asked permission to attend church, "stay at home and do your work. What business have negroes going to church? They don't understand anything about the sermon."
Very true, I thought, for the most of them; but who is to blame for their ignorance? If opportunities for improvement are not allowed them, assuredly they should not suffer for it.
How dead and lifeless lay upon my spirit that dull, cold winter! The snow-storm was without; and ice was within. Constant fault-finding and ten thousand different forms of domestic persecution well-nigh crushed the life out of me. Then there was not one break of beauty in my over-cast sky! No faintor struggling ray of light to illume the ice-bound circle that surrounded me!
But the return of spring began to inspire me with hope; for then I expected the arrival of my unknown mistress. Henry and Louise both knew her, and they represented her as possessed of very amiable and philanthropic views. How eagerly I watched for the coming of the May blossoms, for then she, too, would come, and I be released from torture! How dull and drear seemed the howling month of March, and even the fitful, changeful April. Alternate smiles and tears were wearying to me, and sure I am, no school-girl elected queen of the virgin month, ever welcomed its advent with such delight as I!
With its first day came the young ladies. Right glad was I to see them. They returned blooming and bright as flowers, with the same gentle manners and kindly dispositions that they had carried away.
Miss Nellie had many funny anecdotes to tell of what she had seen and heard; really it was delightful to hear her talk in that mirth-provoking manner! In her accounts of Southern dandyisms and fopperies, she drew forth her father's freest applause.
"Why, Nellie, you ought to write a book, you would beat Dickens," he used to say; but her more sober sister and cousin never failed to reprove her, though gently, for her raillery.
"Well, Elsy," she cried, when she met that little-respected personage, "Have any more 'colored ladies' called during our absence?" This was done in a kind, jocular way; but the poor negro felt it keenly, and held her head down in mortification.
* * * * * * *
At length the second week of the month of May arrived, and with it came my new mistress! A messenger, no less a person than Henry, was despatched for me. The time for which I was hired at Mr. Smith's having expired two weeks previously, I hastily got myself ready, and Henry once again shouldered my trunk.
With a feeling of delight, I said farewell to Mrs. Smith and the servants; but when I bade the young ladies good-bye, Iown to the weakness of shedding tears! I tried to impress upon Miss Adele's mind the sentiment of love that I cherished for her, and I had the satisfaction of knowing that she was not too proud to feel an interest in me.
All the way to the G—— House, Henry was trying to cheer me up, and embolden me for the interview with Miss Nancy. I had been looking anxiously for the time of her arrival, and now I shrank from it. It was well for my presence of mind that Miss Jane and her husband had returned to their homestead, for I do not think that I could have breathed freely in the same house with them, even though their control over me had ceased.
Arriving at the G—— House, I had not the courage to venture instantly into Miss Nancy's presence; but sought refuge, for a few moments, in Louise's apartment, where she gave me a verycordialreception, and a delightful beverage compounded of blackberries.
THE NEW MISTRESS—HER KINDNESS OF DISPOSITION—A PRETTY HOME—AND LOVE-INTERVIEWS IN THE SUMMER DAYS.
At last I contrived to "screw my courage to the sticking-place," and go to Miss Nancy's room.
I paused at the closed door before knocking for admission. When I did knock, I heard a not unpleasant voice say—
"Come in."
The tone of that voice re-inspired me, and I boldly entered.
There, resting upon the bed, was one of the sweetest and most benign faces that I ever beheld. Age had touched it but to beautify. Serene and clear, from underneath the broad cap frill shone her mild gray eyes. The wide brow was calm and white as an ivory tablet, and the lip, like a faded rose-leaf, hinted the bright hue which it had worn in health. The cheek, like the lip, was blanched by the hand of disease. "Ah," she said, as with a slight cough she elevated herself upon the pillow, "it is you, Ann. You are a little tardy. I have been looking for you for the last half-hour."
"I have been in the house some time, Miss Nancy, but had not the courage to venture into your presence; and yet I have been watching for your arrival with the greatest anxiety."
"You must not be afraid of me, child, I am but a sorry invalid, who will, I fear, often weary and overtax your patience; but you must bear with me; and, if you are faithful, I will reward you for it. Henry has told me that you are pretty well educated, and have a pleasant voice for reading. This delights me much; for your principal occupation will be to read to me."
Certainly this pleased me greatly, for I saw at once that Iwas removed from the stultifying influences which had so long been exercised over my mind. Now I should find literary food to supply my craving. My eyes fairly sparkled, as I answered,
"This is what I have long desired, Miss Nancy; and you have assigned to me the position I most covet."
"I am glad I have pleased you, child. It is my pleasure to gratify others. Our lives are short, at best, and he or she only livestrulywho does the most good."
This was a style and manner of talk that charmed me. Beautiful example and type of womankind! I felt like doing reverence to her.
She reached her thin hand out to help herself to a glass of water, that stood on a stand near by. I sprang forward to relieve her.
"Ah, thank you," she said, in a most bland tone; "I am very weak; the slightest movement convinces me of the failure of my strength."
I begged that she would not exert herself, but always call on me for everything that she needed.
"I came here to serve you, and I assure you, my dear Miss Nancy, I shall be most happy in doing it. Mine will, I believe, truly be a 'labor of love.'"
Another sweet smile, with the gilded light of a sunbeam, broke over her calm, sweet face! Bless her! she and all of her class should be held as "blessed among women;" for do they not walk with meek and reverent footsteps in the path of her, the great model and prototype of all the sex?
* * * * * * *
When I had been with her but a few days, she informed me that, as soon as her health permitted, she intended being removed to her house on Walnut street. I was not particularly anxious for this; for my sojourn at the G—— House was perfectly delightful. My frequent intercourse with Henry and Louise, was a source of intense pleasure to me. I was allowed to pass the evenings with them. Truly were those hours dear and bright. Henry played upon his banjo, and sang to us the mostenrapturing songs, airs and glees; and Louise generally supplied us with cakes and lemonade! How exquisite was my happiness, as there we sat upon the little balcony gazing at the Indiana shore, and talking of the time when Henry and I should be free.
"How much remains to be paid to your master, Henry," asked Louise.
"I have paid all but three hundred and fifty; one hundred of which I already have; so, in point of fact, I lack only two hundred and fifty," said Henry.
"I am very anxious to leave here this fall. I wish to go to Montreal. Now, if you could make your arrangements to go on with me, I should be glad. I shall require the services and attentions of a man; and, if you have not realized the money by that time, I think I can lend it to you," returned Louise.
A bright light shone in Henry's eye, as he returned his thanks; but quickly the coming shadow banished that radiance of joy.
"But think of her," he said tenderly, laying his hand on my shoulder; "what can she do without us, or what should I be without her?"
"Oh, think not of me, dearest, I have a good home, and am well cared for. Go, and as soon as you can, make the money, and come back for me."
"Live years away from you? Oh, no, no!" and he wound his arm around my waist, and, most naturally, my head rested upon his shoulder. Loud and heavy was his breathing, and I knew that a fierce struggle was raging in his breast.
"I will never leave her, Louise," he at length replied. "That tyrant, the law, may part us; but, my free will and act—never."
"Ah, well," added she, as she looked upon us, "you will think better of this after you give it a little reflection. This is only love's delusion;" and, in her own quiet, sensible way, she turned the stream of conversation into another channel.
I think now, with pleasure, of the lovely scenes I enjoyedon those evenings, with the fire-flies playing in the air; and many times have I thought how beautifully and truly they typify the illusive glancings of hope darting here and there with their fire-lit wings; eluding our grasp, and sparkling e'en as they flit.
* * * * * * *
A few weeks after my installation in the new office, my mistress, whose health had been improving under my nursing, began to get ready to move to her sweet little cottage residence on Walnut street. I was not anxious for the change, notwithstanding it gave me many local advantages; for I should be removed from Henry, and though I knew that I could see him often, yet the same roof would not cover us. But my life, hitherto, had been too dark and oppressed for me to pause and mourn over the "crumpled rose-leaf;" and so, with right hearty good will I set to work "packing Miss Nancy's trunk," and gathering up her little articles that had lain scattered about the room.
An upholsterer had been sent out to get the house ready for us. When we were on the eve of starting, Henry came to carry the luggage, and Miss Nancy paid him seventy-five cents, at which he took off his hat, made a low bow, and said,
"Thank you, Missis."
Miss Nancy was seated on the most comfortable cushion, and I directly opposite, fanning her.
We drove up to the house, a neat little brick cottage, painted white, with green shutters, and a deep yard in front, thickly swarded, with a variety of flowers, and a few forest trees. Beautiful exotics, in rare plaster, and stone vases, stood about in the yard, and a fine cast-iron watch-dog slept upon the front steps. Passing through the broad hall, you had a fine view of the grounds beyond, which were handsomely decorated. The out-buildings were all neatly painted or white-washed. A thorough air of neatness presided over the place. On the right of the hall was the parlor, furnished in the very perfection of taste and simplicity.
The carpet was of blue, bespeckled with yellow; a sofa of blue brocatelle, chairs, and ottomans of the same material, were scattered about. A cabinet stood over in the left corner, filled with the collections and curiosities of many years' gathering, whilst the long blue curtains, with festoonings of lace, swept to the floor! Adjoining the parlor was the dining-room, with its oaken walls, and cane-colored floor-cloth. Opposite to the parlor, and fronting the street, was Miss Nancy's room, with its French bedstead, lounge, bureau, bookcase, table, and all the et ceteras of comfort. Opening out from her room was a small apartment, just large enough to contain a bed, chair, and wardrobe, with a cheap little mirror overhanging a tasteful dresser, whereon were laid a comb, brush, soap, basin, pitcher, &c. This room had been prepared for me by my kind mistress. Pointing it out, she said,
"That, Ann, is yourcastle." I could not restrain my tears.
"Heaven send me grace to prove my gratitude to you, kind Miss Nancy," I sobbed out.
"Why, my poor girl, I deserve no thanks for the performance of my duty. You are a human being, my good, attentive nurse, and I am bound to consider your comfort or prove unworthy of my avowed principles."
"This is so unlike what I have been used to, Miss Nancy, that it excites my wonder as well as gratitude."
"I fear, poor child, that you have served in a school of rough experience! You are so thoroughly disciplined, that, at times, you excite my keenest pity."
"Yes, ma'm, I have had all sorts of trouble. The only marvel is that I am not utterly brutalized."
"Some time you must tell me your history; but not now, my nerves are too unquiet to listen to an account so harrowing as I know your recital must be."
As I adjusted the pillow and arranged the beautiful silk spread (her own manufacture), I observed that her eyes were filled with tears. I said nothing, but the sight ofthose tearsserved to soften many a painful recollection of former years.
I am conscious, in writing these pages, that there will be few of my white readers who can enter fully into my feelings. It is impossible for them to know how deeply the slightest act of kindness impressedme—how even a word or tone gently spoken called up all my thankfulness! Those to whom kindness is common, a mere household article, whose ears are greeted morning, noon and night, with loving sounds and kind tones, will deem this strange and exaggerated; but, let them recollect that I was aslave—not a mere servant, but a perpetual slave, according to the abhorred code of Kentucky; and their wonder will cease.
The first night that I threw myself down on my bed to sleep (did I state that I had a bedstead—that I hadactuallywhat slaves deemed a great luxury—ahigh-post bedstead?) I felt as proud as a queen. Henry had been to see me. I entertained him in a nice, clean, carpeted kitchen, until a few minutes of ten o'clock, when he left me; for at that hour, by the city ordinance, he was obliged to be at home.
"What," I thought, "have I now to desire? Like the weary dove sent out from the ark, I have at last found land, peace and safety. Here I can rest contentedly beneath the waving of the olive branches that guard the sacred portal ofhome!"Home!home this truly was! A home where the heart would always love to lurk; and how blessed seemed the word to me, now that I comprehended its practical significance! No more was it a fable, an expression merely used to adorn a song or round a verse!
That first night that I spent at home was not given up to sleep. No, I was too happy for that! Through the long, mysterious hours, I lay wakeful on my soft and pleasant pillow, weaving fairest fancies from the dim chaos of happy hopes. Adown the sloping vista of the future I descried nought but shade and flowers!