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SKETCHES FROM LIFE IN DIXIE 
 
 BY 
 
 S. A. BEADLE. 
 
 Copyrighted 1899 
 By Samuel Alfred Beadle. 
 
 Published by 
 Scroll Publishing 6 Literary Syndicate 
 Chicago 
 
DEDICATION. 
 
 IT is, I believe, customary to dedicate one's work to a 
 patron. I suppose one's friend miglitwith as much 
 grace bear the burden. When I remember the en- 
 thusiasm with which my friend always espouses 
 my cause, and how tenaciously she clings to the few 
 virtues I have, and how blind she is to my innumerable 
 faults, I have no forbodings of evil when I approach her. 
 To her, Aurelia W. Beadle, the wife of my youth, this 
 poor memento of my faith is sincerely inscribed by 
 
 The Authoe. 
 
I. 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 Abclucti jn and Rape of Themis, The 
 After Church, 
 Afterward, 
 Age's Rejoinder, 
 Biographia, 
 Blue Corner, 
 Castle Builders, 
 Ella's Dance, 
 Fate of All, The . 
 Flora, 
 
 Glory of a Horse Trade, The 
 Golden Rod, The 
 I Care Not for the Miser's Gold, 
 Ida, 
 
 Impromptu, 
 Innocence Asleep, 
 Joe's Farm, 
 
 Lines on the Death of a Friend, 
 
 Lines to Mr. , 
 
 Lines Suggested by the Assaults Made on the Negro 
 Locomotion on Corks, 
 Mangled Reflection, A 
 Mary Jane's Bright Eye, 
 Message to Janette, 
 Music of the Rain, The 
 My List of Beautiful Things, 
 My Prayer, 
 My Suburban Girl, 
 My Wish, 
 
 Nannie is a Bonny Maid, 
 Nuptial Ties, 
 Pyramid, The, 
 Rape of the Flowers, The 
 Sonnets to My Love, 
 Southern Girl, The 
 Strike for Equal Rights, 
 To a Flower on a Corpse, 
 To a Jilt, " . 
 
 To a Daisy, 
 Two Hearts for One, 
 While the Waltz is On, 
 Words, 
 
 Yellow Jack of '97, 
 Youth's Home and Mother, 
 
 Troops 
 
 75 
 39 
 90 
 
 91 
 83 
 43 
 35 
 70 
 61 
 
 71 
 26 
 1 1 1 
 
 34 
 103 
 
 7 
 
 116 
 37 
 41 
 99 
 63 
 92 
 
 119 
 14 
 65 
 
 1 02 
 
 64 
 
 73 
 68 
 24 
 
 72 
 1 04 
 
 36 
 117 
 
 15 
 69 
 100 
 118 
 62 
 60 
 9 
 
 lOI 
 
 40 
 112 
 115 
 
 534811^ 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 80ME years ago I was wandering about the waste 
 places, thoroughfares and by-ways of a beautiful 
 country 
 
 "Where the cypress and myrtle, 
 Are emblems of deeds that are done in their clime; 
 Where the rage of the vulture, the love of the turtle 
 Now melt into sorrow, now madden to crime;'' 
 
 and, as I was passing, I wrote a few simple sketches of 
 the things that impressed me. 
 
 This land is commonly known as the Sunny South 
 and is sometimes called "Dixie;" for this reason I call 
 them Sketches froiu Life in Dixie. 
 
 Night before last I bundled them together, and sat 
 down to admire the children of my fancy. No mother 
 ever hung over the cradle of her first born with such de- 
 light as I did over them. For once these sketches had 
 an audience; the universe was my theatre and my imag- 
 ination filled it to the outer limits with eager listeners. 
 I sat reading to them, far into the wee sma' hours of the 
 night, till the absence of applause brought me to my 
 senses, and I stopped to hear the clock on the stroke of 
 two. About this time Benjamin Beaumont came into 
 my room, slapped me playfully on the shoulder, and said, 
 "Sol, why don't you bring this thing to an end? Write 
 a preface and an advertisement for your book, publish it, 
 and put it on the market. There are some good things 
 in it." 
 
 This disposed of my fancy; and brought me. for the 
 first time in my life, down to real thought, for if there 
 is anything that requires thought it is the ijreface of a 
 
VI 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 book. You may tip the jDinions of your fancy with fic- 
 tion, and let it flit aimlessly about the inner pages of 
 your book if you will; but when it comes to writing the 
 last page of it, and tacking it to the front, and calling it 
 a preface, I should like to see you escape the thoughts 
 of the critic. This thought murdered my fancy, and 
 my audience vanished —only three of us remained, the 
 Reviewer, the Critic, and I. For us a short preface will 
 do; in short, since I come to think of it, the writing of 
 the thing is a waste of energy ; so I will put it off till an- 
 other time and content myself with telling the simple 
 truth, SkefcJies from Life in Di.ric is but the work of a 
 novice. He wrote them for amusement; and x^ublishes 
 them at the solicitation of his friend Benjamin Beau- 
 mont. If they are accepted by that vaccillating thing 
 known as Public Opinion, he will be thankful: if they 
 are spurned by it, he will not complain, for the cranky 
 old thing is whimsical anyhow. 
 
 With patience I await the end. and subscribe myself 
 Yours truly, 
 
 S. A. Beadle. 
 
 Jackson, Miss. . . 
 
 53481^ 
 
SAMUEL ALFRED BEADLE. 
 
IMPROMPTU. 
 
 ANY and many a year ago 
 
 I lieard of those ancient rhymers. 
 Those hnilders of our poetic lore. 
 The u'rand old vanished timers, 
 AVere always Ixjrn and never made; 
 That they by insioiration bade 
 The enlooies and melodies 
 From the spirit's emoti(jns rise, 
 Filling the earth, the air, the skies 
 AA^ith l)eings from their paradise. 
 Of estht4ie thuUiaht and rapture. 
 
 Then the muses chased the poets down 
 
 From infancy to lioariness. 
 With the genius' protfere-d crown 
 
 And surprised them in tludr idleness 
 AA'ith the coronation brilliancy 
 Of sweet poetic ecstacy. 
 When the metrical song moved along 
 In melody's natural measure. 
 A radieiit royal pleasure. 
 Which the favored took at leisure 
 
 AVitliout the minutest etfort. 
 
 That this is true I sometimes feel. 
 
 And write a feeble line or two. 
 Whene'er the muses o'er me steal 
 
 And I fain would strike the lyre too: 
 But that "ahvays born, never made." 
 From the fanciful tiight have stayed. 
 
8 
 
 SKETCHES FROM LIFE IN DIXIE 
 
 Brilliant spondee and sweet tonchee, 
 Awaiting the inspiring tole, 
 To move the music of my soul 
 To the cadence of the poet's role, . 
 Of proficiency without toil. 
 
 No, Nature has no favored ones, 
 
 All are what themselves would be; 
 Through endless toil Ambition's sons 
 
 Adorn themselves with victory: 
 So I will write it, right or wrong, 
 Everyone shall hear the song, 
 I wish to sing of Evylin; 
 The chaste and lovely Evylin, 
 Tho' all the measure set therein 
 Is not what it should have been. 
 To make the Criticaster's poem. 
 
TWO HEARTS FOR ONE. 
 
 l^M ANY years ago, on a cold, drizzly, freezing night 
 / ^ I in December, I. in company with my friend Le- 
 ; I grange, arrived at the home of Clarence Otto. 
 L Dnring the whole of that cold, benumbing day. 
 
 we had urged our jaded horses along the heavy road, with 
 the proverbial hosi^itality of Otto ever and anon looming 
 up before us, under the activity of our creative fancy; 
 which bounded along before us displacing (_)tto's open 
 fireplace where the hickory logs lay aglow, while the 
 bleak wind without came whistling down from the poles, 
 congealing the blood and leaving icicles in its path. 
 
 What is more interesting on a cold winter night, 
 than that cheerful fire which ever glows on the southern 
 hearth, for the weary traveler? Then give me a plate of 
 English walnuts and occasional draughts of wine to urge 
 my failing memory along that far away receding path, 
 over which we passed when youth was full of adventures, 
 and life one endless dream of pleasantries. 
 
 In due time our fancy grew into reality, for Otto re- 
 ceived us into his beautiful home, though now it is 
 under the gloom of clouds. 
 
 It is a brilliant 'pen, indeed, which can describe the 
 joyous meeting of true friends long since parted. I have 
 tried it a thousand times with as many failures. To me 
 it is an undiscovered pleasure. I give it up with regret, 
 for truly I would fain be saying pleasant things of Otto. 
 Maybe I have failed in this because of the absense of 
 his soul in his face, the presence of which we were only 
 
10 
 
 SKETCHES FROM LIFE IN DIXIE. 
 
 made aware of by the prolonged pressure of the faithful 
 hand. 
 
 The first greeting over, our horses fed, the sleet shaken 
 from our overcoats, and our frozen hats hung in the hall- 
 way, we were moving with gleeful feet to the sitting room, 
 where an open fireplace lay smiling under the fervent 
 glow of a country fire, when Otto laid his hand lightly 
 on my shoulder and said, "Softy, she is dying!" "Who?" 
 w^e asked with respectful accents; but there was no an- 
 swer. Otto had gone — whither, we knew not. The ser- 
 vent showed us into the sitting room, where intuitively 
 we moved upon our toes, and held our benumbed fingers 
 to the cheerful blaze. 
 
 The night grew colder; the hands of the clock trem- 
 bled on the hour of twelve, and still we sat anxiously 
 awaiting Otto. Presently he came, with traces of unut- 
 terable woe in his features. His mind was ill at ease. 
 He staggered under the awful burden, and fell upon Le- 
 grange's shoulder, crying aloud, "She is gone, gone, 
 gone!" Thus he wept until a late hour; then fell asleep, 
 overcome at last, by the long and incessant watchfulness 
 over the object of his affections. 
 
 Legrange watched over him, while I, with the ser- 
 vant, sat watching in the silent chamber. Then, for the 
 first time, the servant told me the tragic story of two 
 hearts for one. 
 
 Said he: It is as old as the everlasting hills, as com- 
 mon as the sunbeams, and a thousand years hence the 
 theme of it will be as fascinating as was Eve when Adam 
 first beheld her, notwithstanding the dullness of my own 
 narration. But you will not divulge it? Your silence 
 assures me and I iDroceed. 
 
 It was evening, and the red star followed in the wake 
 
SKETCHES FROM LIFE IN DIXIE. 
 
 11 
 
 of the new moon, as it went gliding along the horizon to 
 the close of its luminous way. In the distance the 
 watch-dog baying deep-mouthed bade adieu to the day. 
 Ever and anon the huntsman's clarion horn called his 
 comrades to the chase. The red fox heard the sound, 
 and, leaping from the farmer's pig-sty, licked its mouth, 
 shook its tail and struck a running trot across the moor- 
 land to the hills beyond. 
 
 Peggy, the milk-maid, came along the lane, singing 
 one of those love ditties common to girls of seventeen 
 summers. Joe, her brother, was feeding the horses; and 
 the hired man came plodding along from his labors, 
 whistling an air that marked the vacant mind. When 
 suddenly there came along the high road two persons on 
 horseback; one was well formed, lovely and beautiful; 
 her face was livid with the excitement of the chase; the 
 other was tall, manly and brave, what you might call 
 handsome. He seeniecl moved by some awful emotion, 
 the anxiety of his soul stood out upon his features, and 
 his voice trembled slightly when he threw the reins to 
 the hired man and asked, ''Is Parson Dale at home?" 
 
 Need I tell you theirs was the same old story? 
 
 The old man came hurriedly to the rescue; Joe and 
 the hired man held the horses, Peggy lighted and held a 
 torch, while the reverend father read the nuptials under 
 the stately elms by the gate. 
 
 Down the lane another sound of horses' feet came 
 thundering along, as if it had been the rushing of many 
 steeds to battle. It came nearer, nearer, nearer and still 
 more near, till our hearts stood still, awed by the awful 
 expectancy on Otto's visage. 
 
 You may never have seen Cupid in such perils, and 
 I hope you never will. For just as the preacher uttered 
 
12 
 
 SKETCHES FROM LIFE IN DIXIE. 
 
 those magic words, "Tliey whom God has joined togeth- 
 er, let no man cast asunder," the enraged father rode up, 
 dismounted, and with oaths which seemed hke distant 
 thunder, drew a dirk from his bosom, and with the dex- 
 terity of a skilled fencer, sprang toward the bridegroom. 
 
 Oh, the imx)ending stroke! and Otto's look of despair! 
 They haunt me to this day. I turned aside to screen my 
 eyes from the bloody deed, when a wild, piercing, fren- 
 zied wail cried out, "Spare my husband!" and, looking 
 up, I saw the young and unhappy wife spring between 
 father and lover just as the fatal stroke was falling. She 
 reeled backward, threw up her hands and fell senseless 
 in the arms of the bridegroom. She saved her husband 
 at the peril of her life. 
 
 The old man cast one wild, guilty, remorseful look on 
 all, remounted his steed and rode slowly away. 
 
 Kind hands bore the young woman into the house, 
 undressed her and found the knife lodged in the steels 
 of her corset. Her person was untouched. 
 
 The twilight had fallen, but the firmament stood daz- 
 zling in the grandeur of its universal sweep; the wind 
 had lulled itself into rej)ose. and the night was as silent 
 as the hush of the Pyramids. Nature slept. In the dis- 
 tance the farm cock stretched its neck, flapped its wings 
 and crowed till the stillness was broken. Then off toward 
 the north the clarion horn, whoop of huntsmen, yelp of 
 hounds and the clatter of horses' feet remind you that 
 the red fox has not yet escaped its foe ; but it leads them 
 a merry chase, over hillside, field and fallow, through 
 the underbrush, into the woods beyond. Here the dogs 
 come to a full stop and the night is made hidious with 
 their baying. 
 
 The hunters gather around on their horses and be- 
 
SKETCHES FEOM LIFE IN DIXIE. 
 
 IB 
 
 hold a bridleless horse, and near by an old man swing- 
 ing from a tree at the ends of his bridle reins. His hands 
 are grasping the reins over his head, his eyes are x^ro- 
 truding and staring, his tongue is swollen and lolled, and 
 speech is dead. The limb of the tree swings down, till 
 the great toes of the dying man grapple with the earth. 
 He is in the agonies of death. To release him is but the 
 work of a moment; a strong arm reaches out and draws 
 a knife across the noose, and the man falls limp and cold. 
 Such was the fate of Shearod Gay, the father of Otto's 
 wife. 
 
 Nothing could shake ofP this scene. She grew sick, 
 and would not be revived. She accused herself of her 
 father's death, as he, doubtless, did himself of hers. 
 
 After visiting all the health resorts of this country 
 and Europe, Otto returned with her a fortnight since; 
 and there she lies the victim of that fascinating passion 
 known as love. 
 
MARY JANE'S BRIGHT EYE. 
 
 OFT in the liusli of twilight, 
 When the golden sunbeams die, 
 There beams for me the light 
 Of Mary Jane's bright eye: 
 As she swings, 
 And sings, 
 And lingers late. 
 For me at the cottage gate. 
 
 Whenever the day goes wrong 
 
 With the weight of cruel cares. 
 The lustre of her orbs 
 
 Beam brighter though in tears. 
 As she v/eej)s 
 And sweeps, 
 And watches late 
 
 My coming through the cottage gate. 
 
 (3h ! the eyes of my Mary Jane ! 
 
 Dark and sparkling, lovely eyes, 
 Where stood my reflected self 
 Mirrored in paradise. 
 As she hung. 
 And swung, 
 And lingered late, 
 
 And kissed me o'er the cottage gate. 
 
SONNETS TO MY LOVE. 
 
 I 
 
 I STOOD, when life was full of buoyant hope, 
 At sunrise, in the vanislied years now flown, 
 With my motlier. on that x^iece of earth that's 
 known 
 
 To those wlio"ve liad motlier" s atfections ope 
 The g-ate. and leave ajar, to their full scope. 
 
 The delightful ways of sweet childhood's home. 
 
 And felt her hand of blessing on her own — 
 And now when fancy calls up those remote 
 Times, though its far too late. I apx3reciate 
 
 Her sole absorbing theme, maternal love; 
 Alone on this, the greatest human trait. 
 
 God has written in the archives above 
 Divine; but she left me disconsolate. 
 
 Alone in oblivion's sphere to move. 
 
 II • . - 
 
 I turn away from this scene of sadness. 
 
 To emlirace thee, fairest of all the earth. 
 
 Thou thrillest me and all my friends with mirth 
 And incitest hope that counsels cheerfulness. 
 And bidst me to no longer doubt: nor guess 
 
 At the supremacy of thyself and worth. 
 
 Xor longer to compare thee with the serf; 
 Life's meaner beings and their littleness. 
 Thou art celestial, fair sweetheart of mine. 
 
 Divinely fashioned in thine every part. 
 The light that dazzles in those eyes of thine, 
 
SKETCHES FROM LIFE IN DIXIE. 
 
 Has won until now my unconquered heart; 
 I kneel, divested of self, at love's shrine 
 And offer thee all my confiding heart. 
 
 Ill 
 
 It is thine for good, for better, or for worse, 
 Faithful to remain through all the year 
 Of checkered life's bright sunshine, cloud and tear, 
 
 Thine whatever be thy sad reverse, 
 
 Thine till the collapse of the universe; 
 Thine to revere, to love, adore, to wear 
 Thine image on my soul; nor fate, nor fear, 
 
 Weal nor woe, nor Mammon's power coerce 
 
 Me into cold forgetfulness of thee. 
 Because thou still livest alone for me 
 
 And stern, cold, destructive adversity, 
 Has left thee goddess of prosperity. 
 
 To inspire me. Today, o'er life's grim sea, 
 I hear the glad acclaim of victory. 
 
 IV 
 
 It's sweet to hear the milkmaid's rural song- 
 Floating in its melody on the wind ; 
 The buoyant echo of a tranquil mind; 
 
 And sweeter still to see the waving corn, 
 
 Falling beneath the scythe throughout the long- 
 Harvest days; and yet still more so to find 
 The frugal meal spread by the angel kind. 
 
 Which God gave to be our helpmate. The horn 
 
 Of plenty thrives in her delicate hand. 
 And economy fills our humble board. 
 
 It is sweet as you tread a foreign strand. 
 
 Where the ships from over the sea stand moored; 
 
SKETCHES FEOM LIFE IN DIXIE. 
 
 To learn anew that in your native land, 
 Confiding lovers your memories hoard. 
 
 V 
 
 It is sweet to have narrated at night 
 
 The travels of him who has seen the earth, 
 When hoary winter makes of all a dearth, 
 
 And the fires of peace in our homes burn bright 
 
 As we mix our wines and our friendships X3light, 
 O'er the bright nectar that kindles the mirth, 
 Of the jolly souls that surround our hearth 
 
 With their witty convivial delight. 
 
 But sweeter, sweeter far. than all of these, 
 Are the delicious joys young lovers steal, 
 
 While making love beneath the verdant trees. 
 As they feel the full, wild, passionate weal 
 
 Of first love's grand emotions; when the breeze 
 Of mutual hox^e fans the fire they feel. 
 
 VI 
 
 But this to me is the sweetest by night. 
 
 With my love's soft voice as the complement, 
 Chiming the cadence of its merriment, 
 
 While her heart's at ease, and her spirit bright, 
 
 Allures the soul in its ecstatic flight. 
 To the fullest extent of its sentient. 
 Passionately, bewildered sentiment. 
 
 Of love's profound, affectionate delight. 
 
 To feel the touch of this angelic one. 
 In the sublime grace of her fellowship; 
 
 Makes the heart beat quick and the spirit run. 
 Pregnant with great bliss, into Cupid's ship 
 
 O'er oceans of doubt, to love's dominion. 
 As on her uioturned face I press my lip. 
 
SKETCHES FROM LIFE IN DIXIE. 
 VII 
 
 And when under the weight of cares for me, 
 In alBPection's bower thou seekst repose, 
 I will gather the myrtle, lilly and rose, 
 
 To embellish thy resting place for thee. 
 
 For chastity's reclining couch should be 
 
 A sacred shrine, where the gallant daily goes, 
 A self-made vassal, chief of love's heroes 
 
 Felling the vicious tongue of calumny. 
 
 When all the means at my command are spent, 
 Whereof I might make thy sleep softly flow 
 
 Through sunny dreams, I'll cease to serve, and print 
 A kiss, love's epilogue, on thy sweet brow, 
 
 Explanatory of our merriment. 
 
 And resign thee to slumbers light and low. 
 
 VIII 
 
 Again the long and sombre shadows throw 
 
 Their spectre forms across the dreary road; 
 
 And their grim quiverings plainly forebode 
 A crisis, and the golden sun, although • 
 Fading, has still a rich and brilliant glow. 
 
 And his brow of burnished gold throws a robe 
 
 Of crimson o'er all; as the grim old ford 
 Between the night and the day he leaps o'er. 
 When tired day slowly succumbs to twilight, 
 
 Whose silent curtain, dropping, hides the way 
 From view, and we see cold, dark, gloomy night 
 
 In triumph succeed the beautiful day. 
 Until the moon and stars, illumed and bright. 
 
 Have martialed themselves in the Milky Way. 
 
 IX 
 
 Now the beauties of the sun's after glow 
 
SKETCHES FEOM LIFE IX DIXIE. 
 
 19 
 
 Are reflected in yon dazzling arcade, 
 
 As legions of stars after stars promenade 
 Down the aisles of tlie firmament, and throw 
 The glory of their unique order o"er 
 
 All; there each in its special orbit stayed, 
 
 By the rules of harmony which pervade 
 The universe, has beings of its own. 
 Who looking off on this world of ours, call 
 
 It, perchance, a star, as on in its way 
 It goes around the Prince of day, a ball 
 
 Of ordinate matter, till ev'ry ray 
 Of the spheres roll in files astronomical, 
 
 While in the east the laughing sunbeams play. 
 
 X 
 
 Sleep, thou art a workman of skill and art, 
 
 The master builder that turneth the arch 
 
 Of beauty in feminine form; monarch 
 Of nature's stupendous being and heart. 
 That fills creation to its utmost part, 
 
 With energy for its triumphant march. 
 
 0"er the blighting forces of death that parch 
 The soul of beauty: aye, the stricken heart 
 Beats stronger after calm repose with thee. 
 
 And death is foiled in its triumphant hour, 
 And marks but a point in our destiny. 
 
 Where the watch fires burn dimly in life's tower 
 But will blaze with renewed vitality, 
 
 Reignited by thy silent power. 
 
 XI 
 
 For what is death but calm repose after all? 
 Sleep, lovely sleep, that finds vitality; 
 
SKETCHES FEOM LIFE IN DIXIE. 
 
 Behold! it springs from seed of i3lant and tree, 
 A living fact, the grave cannot enthrall. 
 Nor annihilation again recall — 
 
 Demonstrated resnrrection to me, 
 
 Immortal life, man's final destiny; 
 By nature's vital forces ever called 
 To action somewhere in the universe, 
 
 After the pause for refreshment and rest. 
 In that realm where the omnivorous nurse 
 
 Men call the grave, enfolds all to its breast, 
 Whose stern immutable powers coerce 
 
 And all the living maketh a jest. 
 
 XII 
 
 Blessed is the man who enters sleej)'s domain 
 
 Of tranquility and majestic ease; 
 
 Where refreshing slumbers the weak appease, 
 And with beauty reanimate the inane; 
 Where calumny's shaft and intended pain 
 Are vanished never to return again; 
 
 W^here society's distinctions release 
 
 Their hold, and caste— that civil disease — 
 Which has destroyed states and wrecked empires, 
 
 Is perxDetually barred; there the old 
 Consuming blight of poverty expires. 
 
 And of mute inactivity grows cold; 
 When peaceful rejDose quiets the desires. 
 
 And sleep, majestic sleep, fills the household. 
 
 XIII 
 
 Come thou, lord of labor, come. I jDropose 
 To ally myself with thee, and to have, 
 Thy powerful hands close these eyes, and pave 
 
SKETCHES FROM LIEE IX DIXIE. 
 
 21 
 
 My way to fora'etf illness and repose; 
 Teach me liow soon foru'ot are all tlie woes. 
 
 The joys, the trinmxohs: and all that men crave 
 
 Or lioi^e for. love or abhor. Avhen the g-rave. 
 Ante room to eternity, shall close 
 All the realities of earth to me. 
 
 Sweet refreshino- slumlier. come, my royal 
 Master, come tlion. and let me embrace thee. 
 
 Oh I come thou, and strengthen me for the toil 
 Of another day: and of eternity 
 
 Give me a view, ere my ashes have turned to soil. 
 
 XIV -• 
 Sweet the morning' after repose with thee. 
 
 A\'hen the firmament turns from gray to gold'' 
 
 And the radiant starlit sky has rolled 
 Into the archives of day's immensity. 
 And thou awake, seeming fresh from Deity's 
 
 Hands come, and we from love's eyes will l3eliold 
 
 The first born of all the spheres arise, bold 
 And fearless in his supreme sovereignty 
 O'er all aerial things: but to you. 
 
 Last and fairest from the hantl of God. 
 He comes on a'olden winii'S. a servant true, 
 
 Alone illuminating thy abode: 
 There he is at last up the eastern view. 
 
 And only for thee creation's beauties hoard, 
 
 XV 
 
 Sweep on in thine aerial flight. O sun. 
 
 Like shadows old chaos fled l:)efore thee. 
 
 AMien thou swung out there over land and sea, 
 The hul) of the solar system to run 
 
SKETCHES FROM LIFE IN DIXIE. 
 
 The universe; then the morning stars sung 
 Together while thou set the spheres aglee, 
 And fixed the measures of their destiny 
 
 When old time's calendar began to run. 
 
 But who can fix the measure of thy years, 
 
 Or tell when they shall end, as they surely will, 
 
 For 'tis said thyself shall die, and the spheres 
 Shall forget their concord and instill 
 
 In old chaos a new hope; but it ajD^oears 
 It shall not triumph when thou art still. 
 
 XVI 
 
 Then Jehovah's supremest attribute 
 
 Will light the diamond boulevards of the sky, 
 And angels of peace and light will fly, 
 
 On errands of love for thee, and salute 
 
 Us with shouts of welcome, which w411 confute 
 The fears our carnal bodies raised, led by 
 The prince of night; that father of the lie 
 
 Which once made us hesitate, and commute 
 
 The priceless favor of Messiah for him. 
 
 But now we see His love in the pathless wood, 
 
 In rippling stream, and eolian hymn. 
 
 In the embellished lea where Flora stood 
 
 And sowed the flowers in the early spring, 
 And left the spirit of her sisterhood. 
 
 XVII 
 
 Who is the queen of my fancy? Well, 
 My friend would you really like to know? 
 She is not yellow, white nor gray, and so 
 Must be something else. I'm afraid to tell, 
 Since all that's mean between heaven and hell, 
 
SKETCHES FROM LIFE IX DIXIE. 
 
 23 
 
 Aljlior the color l)lack. Slie's clieriil}. tlioiiuii, 
 
 And all the fair and the impartial know. 
 ^She is a beautifnl. beautiful angel. 
 I care not what your prejudice, youdl love 
 
 Her in your heart, when the light of her dark eyes 
 Beam on you. like the flash of stars above 
 
 A dark and rolliug cloud: her form comxDlies 
 AVith all the art the Grecian sculi:)tors iDrove: 
 
 "Her voice?" A chord escaped from paradise. 
 
MY WISH. 
 
 S I strive to lift the burden, 
 
 When intense becomes the strife, 
 If you are friendly, brother. 
 While the tumult is rife. 
 
 Is the time above all others. 
 For the heli3ing hand in life. 
 
 And when I am growing weary, 
 
 Victory seems in doubt, 
 Then come to my rescue, brother, 
 
 With praises loud s^Deak out, 
 Do not wait till I have conquered. 
 
 To raise the cheering shout. 
 
 If the fight is drawn, my brother, 
 
 I neither lose nor win. 
 Will you keep your place beside me, 
 
 Till I try it again. 
 Till I mend my broken armor, 
 
 And try my hand again'? 
 
 If the battle goes against me, 
 I'm smitten hi^D and thigh, 
 
 It is then and there, my brother, 
 I'd like to have you nigh. 
 
 With your valor and your courage, 
 And not your sympathy. 
 
 And when I'm done, my brother, 
 When my final word is said, 
 
SKETCHES FROM LIFE IX DIXIE. 
 
 25 
 
 When I sleep beneath the grasses 
 Where the daisy lifts its head, 
 
 In the place of polished marble 
 Plant the roses instead. 
 
 You may leave me off your i^raises, 
 When they make my humble bed, 
 
 In the silent land of shadows 
 With the green sod over head — ■ 
 
 If I am forgot while living. 
 Forget me when I'm dead. 
 
 Just leave me to the memory 
 
 Of him I used to know. 
 Of the friend who stood beside me 
 
 So many years ago, 
 When you were quoting calumny 
 
 And I was iDlucking crow. 
 
 Dixie -3 
 
THE GLORY OF A HORSE TRADE. 
 
 HORSE trading is the most fascinating vocation I 
 know of. If it is not romantic, it is novel in 
 the extreme. By way of illustrating this fact, I 
 desire to give you my experience in this honor- 
 able business. The geography of the place where the 
 scene occurred is unnecessary. It is enough to say that 
 you will be entertained. This, however, is mere pre- 
 sumption because it is about horse trading. 
 
 It was my first business day, in my new stable in 
 Twenty- third Avenue. Here I had collected as fine a 
 lot of horses, mules, buggies, carriages and other stock 
 of the trade as I have seen south of Kentucky. 
 
 I had just gone through the exercise of showing a 
 horse off to the best advantage, when some one an- 
 nounced a gentlemen who wanted to purchase a horse. 
 Upon this the gentleman entered and introduced him- 
 self to me as General Bearwell, of the Thirty-third 
 Calvary, U. S. A. I advanced and offered him my hand, 
 saying as I did so, "My name is Roland, sir. I hope 
 you are well?" 
 
 "Quite so, I thank you," said he with the familiarity 
 of an old friend. 
 
 I looked him through, and thought I knew my man. 
 He was just the fellow for my beautiful black steed with 
 the dark fiery eyes. 
 
 "What can I do for you. General?" said I, with my 
 soul in the word General. 
 
 He replied, "I wish to purchase a horse." 
 "Any choice as to color, General?" 
 "I like black horses, sir." 
 
SKETCHES FEOM LIFE IN DIXIE 
 
 27 
 
 Up to this point in the game I had been studying 
 the General's temperament, which I found to be nervous. 
 Perceiving him to be a smoker, also, I was prepared to 
 begin the trade in earnest, which I did through the per- 
 suasive influence of a pure Havana cigar. 
 
 I took my match case from its retreat, drew a match 
 across the scratch, which seemed to ignite itself from its 
 jeweled setting, and handed it to the General. Our 
 cigars lighted, we walked leisurely along between the 
 stalls till we reached the one in which was quartered my 
 beautiful horse. Here I stox3ped, drew a wisp of smoke, 
 puffed it to the ceiling, and threw the cigar aside. Then 
 I stepped to the noble animal, slapped him on the 
 shoulder, and said, "Here, General, is a horse that will 
 suit you. He is a horse every inch of him! He is 
 swifter than any thing driven in Ben Hur's oriental 
 races; and more docile than old Dagobert's horse of 
 Wandering Jew proclivities." 
 
 I had played this trick a thousand times. I wish 
 you could have seen me on this occasion. I was at my 
 best. The General was captivated and asked the price. 
 
 "Here, boy, lead this horse to the front," said I, as I 
 lighted another cigar from that magic box, as if I did 
 not hear the General. 
 
 That boy was the jewel of a jockey. He knew how 
 to lead a horse. You talk about horse trading! It 
 ought to be enrolled in the galaxy of science as one of 
 the fine arts. 
 
 My horses were always young, and of the finest 
 breed. They never passed the age of seven years. 
 Most of them had just dropped their colt's teeth, in the 
 natural way, or by the aid of cold steel. The General 
 examined the teeth of that horse and found them to be 
 
28 
 
 SKETCHES FEOM LILE IN DIXIE 
 
 all right. They who buy and sell horses know the value 
 of good teeth to the trade. 
 
 Our trade was now fairly on. Having found a horse 
 to suit the General, the next thing was to fit him to a 
 price worthy of him and remunerative to me. This is 
 the objective point in a horse trade. It is not the value 
 of the horse, nor his cost — this has nothing to do with 
 it. It is your customer's standing in society, his taste, 
 his whims and his pride. Put a price on these, and go 
 at him through his emotions. Arouse these and keep 
 them aroused. This is no easy task; but if you are up 
 to date in your business, it is a pleasant duty. 
 
 The General wore a beautiful watch charm, under 
 the glass casing of which was a beautiful picture of him- 
 self, standing by a beautiful black stallion that was 
 almost the exact counterpart of my own horse. With 
 that charm between my finger and thumb I toyed a 
 moment, with my mind on an immense mirror I keep in 
 my stable, to aid me in fixing fancy prices for fashion- 
 able people. 
 
 I knew if I could get the General to see himself by 
 my horse in the position he occupied in the picture, all 
 would be well. Nothing surpasses the other fellow's 
 characteristics in a horse trade, if you can enlist them 
 unawares. 
 
 At last I said, "General, I should like to see you 
 ride that horse. He is a noble fellow; and, besides, you 
 can best judge of his speed and gaits when once you 
 mount him." 
 
 This was a difficult lead; but the General took it like 
 a charm. As he cantered down the street I whispered 
 to that faithful jockey, "The glass." In a few minutes 
 the General returned. 
 
SKETCHES FROM LIFE IN DIXIE 
 
 29 
 
 The jockey caught the horse and led him to the 
 proper iDosition, in front of that magnificant mirror. 
 The General dismounted, and, from force of habit, leaned 
 back on the horse's shoulder, with his hand playing 
 with his silken mane. There they stood, as fine a speci- 
 men of animated nature as I ever beheld. 
 
 Again he asked the price, and, as I had him prepared 
 for it. I put it to him straight, forty eagles in gold! He 
 staggered under this a little, but I kept him on his feet 
 by slapping the horse in the flanks, and saying, ''beauti- 
 ful steed — thoroughbred — I cannot sell him — General, 
 can I show you another horse?'" 
 
 This little maneuver brought the General around all 
 right. The terms were agreed to and he invited me 
 down to his camp for the money. The horses were soon 
 saddled; and we rode out of my stable chatting like old 
 friends. 
 
 I can never forget that afternoon. The General, a 
 thorough horsemen, and his jDrancing steed are indeli- 
 bly stamped on my mind. The forest trees were deco- 
 rated in all the splendor of green, orange and vermilion, 
 among which the sunbeams were falling in rivulets of 
 gold. A brisk wind blew in from the south, and lifted 
 the mane of the General's horse in beautiful folds of 
 silk, whose ebony color dazzled as it waved. 
 
 I had jDlayed my part well. Think of it, four hun- 
 dred dollars for that horse! He cost me only forty, and 
 he was fifteen years old if a day. Dr. Leonard, the 
 dentist, had made him a beautiful set of ivory teeth, 
 whose artistic finish seemed to rei^roduce nature. 
 
 I confess, to use a vulgar phrase, I "played the 
 General for all he was worth." Played for a big stake 
 and — I was about to say — got it. I had an easy time 
 
30 
 
 SKETCHES FEOM LIFE IN DIXIE 
 
 with him. The only thing in my way was my con- 
 science. I know you will laugh to hear of such a thing 
 in a horse trader, but it is too true; that avenging spirit, 
 or whatever you may call it, kept nagging me under the 
 left arm, and ringing in my ears, "Thou robber!" But,, 
 like most of the brethren of the profession, I smothered 
 it at last under the happy expectancy of that four 
 hundred dollars. 
 
 During our ride to the camp the General told me of 
 his travels in the far east. He had served as major in 
 the English army, during its Egyptian campaign, up 
 the valley of the Nile. He had hunted tigers in the- 
 jungles of the Soudan, looked in upon the faithful 
 during the devotionals of the Koran in Mecca, and 
 traded horses in the city of Bagdad. In response to 
 this remark I bulged my off cheek with my tongue. 
 
 We are now in the camp of the General, and the 
 scene changes. Not till death separates me from all 
 things earthly, shall I forget what I am about to impart. 
 No sooner had we reached the camp, than I became the 
 General's guest. He treated me as if I were a 
 prince. He offered me cigars, the delicate flavor of 
 which surpassed my own pure Havanas; and wine, ah 
 me, such wine ! its sparkling, oily smoothness verified an 
 age, the remoteness of which I cannot imagine. I con- 
 fess I tipped my glass and drank to the General's 
 health. Who would refuse a glass of wine and lose the 
 sweet sensations of a triumphant horse trade? 
 
 During the drinks, the General kept sxjinning yarns 
 about his visit to Bagdad, until a little old man came in 
 and handed him a note. This fellow the General intro- 
 duced to me as his friend and cook. The cook bowed a 
 genteel salute, and retired. Then the General offered 
 
SKETCHES FEOM LIFE IX DIXIE 
 
 31 
 
 me twelve ten dollar bills. sayiiiK as lie did so. "This, 
 my friend, is all I can f^ive you for your steed, my cook 
 says it is all lie is worth." Do not ask me to describe 
 my surprise, for I cannot. I lost my temxDer. As we 
 were S'rowiniJ' into hot words, the Inmie called to drills, 
 and the General retired. 
 
 Presently the cook came in. wearin^r a blank smile, 
 and said: "My master says he owes you money, will you 
 please acceijt it and depart"? The camp is closed to vis- 
 itors." UxDon which he. too. counted to me twelve of the 
 prettiest ten-dollar bills I remember liavino- seen. I 
 confess this was a deo-ree of the i^rofessioii of which I 
 was io'norant. HowcA^er. I did the best I could. I ex- 
 amined the money and found it to be counterfiet. pure 
 and simple. I threw it in the face of that cook: and ])e- 
 o'an to beat him unmercifully. The guards heard his 
 cries, and. rushiim- in. hurried us off to the marshal of 
 the watch: who demanded of us why we had disturbed 
 the i^eace of the canip.^ 
 
 I spoke in my own defense, and told him all about 
 my trade and the deception ot the General and his cook, 
 eiiiphasiziim' the offer of countertiet money with such 
 persuasive eloquence as to carry the marshal with me- 
 So much so that he ex^Dressed a desire to punish the of- 
 fenders: unless they had some extenuating- circumstance 
 to otf'er. 
 
 Then he turned to that consummate scoundrel, the 
 cook, and addressed him in these words: "My o'ood fel- 
 low, what can you say for yourself?" 
 
 He bowed his head to the earth in real Oriental fash- 
 ion, and said. "Much, your lion( )r. much I This stranu'er 
 sold my master a horse for four hundred dollars in ^o\c\t 
 Avhich I have paid him as directed. Instead of depart- 
 
32 
 
 SKETCHES FROM LIFE IN DIXIE 
 
 ing with his money, as he should have done, he violently 
 assailed me in our tent, and accuses me falsely before 
 your honor/" 
 
 Again the marshal turned to me for a reply, which I 
 hastened to give. Confident of vanishing my enemy, 
 the cook. I turned out my inner pockets to verify my 
 innocence. Imagine my unutterable horror, to see forty 
 eagles in gold, rolling therefrom. I hung my head to 
 hide my shame, with my heart boiling with rage. I 
 stood there irresolute and confused, and the cook tri- 
 umphantly chuckled. 
 
 Then the marshal, addressing the cook, said, ''Have 
 you anything further to say?'' 
 
 To which he answered. "This man seems to be ignor- 
 ant of the glories of a horse trade. Since he displays so 
 much ignorance, let him return my master's gold, take 
 his horses and leave the camp.'' 
 
 "Be it so," said the marshal. 
 
 Mounted on the horse I rode to the camp, and lead- 
 ing the one I was to have sold the General, I made my 
 way home, crest fallen and sad. Some days later I re- 
 ceived four hundred dollars in gold from the General, 
 and the following letter: 
 
 Valley Camp 33 Cavalry U. S. A., Sept. 15, 18 — 
 Mr. Roland, City Stables 
 
 Dear Sir — -A few days ago my cook and you had some little mis- 
 understanding about a horse trade. I regret it very much. You will 
 please find inclosed the price of the horse you sold me. The conscien- 
 tious respect I have for the glory of a horse trade prompts me to send 
 you the gold. You ought to have kept the money instead of taking 
 away my Arabian stallion without my consent. Thinking that you 
 mistook my horse for yours I give you the opportunity of returning 
 im^ if you prefer to swap horses, you may return the gold and 
 keep himj but in no case are you to keep both. I hope you will ac- 
 cept my apology for the behavior of my cook: I know you will when 
 
SKETCHES FEOM LIFE IX DIXIE. 
 
 83 
 
 you learn why he acted as he did. He and the marshal had made a 
 bet that you did not know one horse from another, and vet had sense 
 enough to hoodwink me. By this time I presume you are aware of 
 the truth of this statement. 
 
 You forgot to tell me vour horse had false teeth, a fact I learned 
 todav while on parade^ for then my, or rather ^•our horse's teeth fell 
 from his mouth, much to mv displeasure. I nearly forgot to tell vou 
 that my old stallion lost his eyes during one of the battles of our 
 Egyptian campaign. While I was in Paris an oculist made him those 
 beautiful dark eyes. 
 
 I have no doubt that the noise of the camp disturbed you as you 
 rode away the other dav; please accept my apology for the boys; they 
 were applauding my cook on his good judgment. He, by the way, is 
 an East India juggler of rare skill. 
 
 Hoping that you will accept this explanation in good grace, I ap- 
 preciate the honor of subscribing myself, 
 
 Yours truly, 
 
 General Bearwell. 
 
 I dropped the letter and ran to the stall of my favor- 
 ite steed: he was not there. l)ut another one instead, in 
 whose dark eye o-leamed all the fire of the Arabian horse 
 which, upon examinati(_)n. I t'cjund to l)e artificial indeed. 
 
 It was now my turn in the u-ame. I had the Grener- 
 al"s money and a horse in many respects h^etter than my 
 forty dollar one. 
 
 But the Li'oldl the u'oldl Its mellow clink fell up(_)n 
 my ears so seductively that my heart stood still and my 
 soul hesitated between forty eagles and a blind h(jrse. 
 Then my conscience returned to its old place under my 
 left arm and vdiispered ■"honor:" and. remembering- the 
 General, by his acts, placed me scpiarely on the glory of a 
 horse trade. I returned the gold. 
 
SKETCHES FEOM LIFE IN DIXIE. 
 
 I CARE NOT FOR THE MISER'S GOLD. 
 
 I CARE not for the miser's gold, 
 Nor increased acreage of lands; 
 My neighbor's goods I would not hold 
 Nor wring wealth from his clinched hands - 
 Oh no! My God! I would not have 
 
 My hands itching for his gold, 
 A higher boon my spirit craves 
 
 Of Thee. Let me communion hold 
 With these: the good, the great, the free; 
 
 Aye! let me scale the towering dome 
 Of thought, and feel, and know, and see 
 
 The highest dome bidding welcome 
 To my continued upward flight; 
 
 Oh, grant that I may stand amid 
 Men of thought, a man; banish night 
 From my clouded brow, and me rid 
 Of my mental infirmities. 
 Thou Deity of Deities! 
 
SKETCHES FEOM LIFE IX DIXIE, 
 
 CASTLE BUILDERS. 
 
 AXY and many a merry clay. 
 Under the oak tree's shade. 
 
 1 I We children tripped it ont to play. 
 
 Happy, blithe and u'ay: 
 Then we hnilt our airy castles hiu'h. 
 To occupy — ah when? 
 When we were u-rown to men. 
 Those beautiful, airy castles hi^'h, 
 When we were m"own to men. 
 
 Or down the lane we chased the fly. 
 
 That brilliant, g-auzy thing-. 
 Which seemed a sunbeam floatinu' by, 
 
 Blithe and gay as we, 
 When we built those airy castles high, 
 
 To occupy — ah when? 
 
 When we were grown to men. 
 Those beautiful, airy castles high, 
 
 When we were grown to men. 
 
 Alas! the golden years have flown; 
 
 Also the Idithe and gay: 
 But hope's x^liantoms flit the gloam 
 
 Just the same today; 
 And we build our airy castles high, 
 
 To occupy them when 
 
 We unite the schemes of men — 
 You beautiful, airy castles high, 
 
 ^'e'll occu^Dy you then. 
 
SKETCHES FROM LIFE IN DIXIE. 
 
 And soar again on fancy's wings, 
 
 Chasing the rainbows down; 
 Those radiant and dazzling things, 
 
 The visionary schemes of men; 
 And build our castles somewhat worse^ 
 
 Than in the years gone by; 
 
 For we shall occupy them when 
 We learn to know man is a farce. 
 
 And his i^romise is a lie. 
 
 THE PYRAMID. 
 
 THE pyramid through ages past, 
 Through all their tempest, storm and blast, 
 Held its apex up to grasp 
 The elements. 
 
 Three thousand years, long and fleet, 
 Have struck their colors at its feet. 
 Ten thousand more its strength shall meet 
 Till time is done. 
 
 Where is the tower Babel built? 
 Where is Tyre's crimson hilt? 
 Judea's temple, and the guilt 
 Her neighbors' knew? 
 
 They're gone at oblivion's call — 
 Old Egypt's skill survives them all — 
 Yet in the art of Pharach's pall 
 The Egyptian lives. 
 
SKETCHES FROM LIFE IN DIXIE. 
 
 JOFS FARM. 
 
 ANY and many a year has gone 
 / ^ I Since I was cleared by Joe, 
 / I Who plowed me up and planted corn, 
 L To see it shoot and grow. 
 
 He built an old Virginia fence 
 Out there where the wires run; 
 
 And worked, he said, in self-defense. 
 From sunny sun to sun. 
 
 He planted peas between the rows, 
 And pumpkins here and there; 
 
 And where that patch of briar grows 
 He set out deep the pear. 
 
 And further on the apple tree, 
 And the peach orchard there; 
 
 With worthy pride embellished me 
 With fruit trees ev'ry where. 
 
 And placed around the orchard, sir, ' 
 Were hives and hives of bees; 
 
 In the piggery the hogs were ; 
 In the i3asture, the beeves. 
 
 And fiery steeds, and all that go 
 
 To make your farm a home : 
 But that which was most prized by Joe 
 
 Was his broad" fertile loam. 
 
SKETCHES FROM LIFE IN DIXIE. 
 
 He kept me fertilized and tiled, 
 
 With ditches deep and wide, 
 And never let the floods run wild. 
 
 Nor stream it down my side. 
 And where the gullies would have been. 
 
 Near by he planted trees; 
 Then there the grass grew bright and green, 
 
 And there would play the breeze. 
 But J oe has long since passed away. 
 
 And others master here; 
 Yet since that sad and gloomy day 
 
 I've lordless been and drear. 
 
 And where was once the verdant knoll, 
 
 Gullies are yawning wide; 
 And when it rains the waters roll 
 
 In torrents down my side. 
 Here in the flats the briars grow. 
 
 The thistles on the hills; 
 And where the gin wheels used to go 
 
 Are a few rotten sills. 
 The gentleman that's master now 
 
 Says farming does not pay ; 
 He neither drives nor holds the plow. 
 And values not his clay. 
 When the master of this place was Joe 
 
 And cotton king of croi3S, 
 I've seen the white and red blooms blow 
 
 On miles of my sunny tops. 
 And in the fall the fleecy stuff 
 
 Would fill the earth like snow. 
 The harvesters would cry enough, 
 
 And farming it paid Joe. 
 
SKETCHES FEOM LIFE IX DIXIE. 
 
 For down the lane and o'er the lea 
 
 To church we often tread,. 
 In that careless sort of way. 
 
 That leads to love, they say; 
 And after church we often search 
 For garlands by the way. 
 
 Yes. May and I are friends, 
 
 And something more, they say; 
 Because along the curved strand, 
 
 Where we sat the other day, 
 I sim^jly wrote her name, 
 
 And wrote it o'er again; 
 AVhen after church we stopped to searc 
 
 For shells along the main. 
 
 More than friends are we, 
 
 My bonny May and I: 
 At least that's what our neighbors say 
 
 Whene'er they XDass us by. 
 They smile and wink their eye. 
 
 And set their necks awry : 
 When after church we stop to search 
 
 For heart's ease. May and I. 
 
 AFTER CHURCH. 
 
 E^S. May and I are friends. 
 Lovers, manv have said: 
 
SKETCHES FEOM LIFE IN DIXIE. 
 
 WORDS. 
 
 VORDS are but leaves to the tree of 
 mind; 
 Where breezy fancy plays; 
 Or echoes from the souls which find 
 Expression's subtle ways. 
 
 A beaming lamp to idea's feet 
 Where sentinel thought abides; 
 
 Or a guide to the soul's retreat, 
 Where master man presides. 
 
 A jewel trembling on the tongue, 
 
 The index of the heart; 
 The black mask from the spirit wrung. 
 
 Revealing every part. 
 
 A ship upon the sea of life, 
 
 With all her sails aswell; 
 Her cargo being the bread of life, 
 
 Or the cindered dross of hell. 
 
SKETCHES FEOM LIFE IN DIXIE. 
 
 41 
 
 LINES ON THE DEATH OF A FRIEND. 
 
 LIFE is a mysterious thing. 
 It comes we know not whence. 
 And leaves us on a rapid wing 
 For an absence immense. 
 
 Just y ester morn I had a friend, 
 Cheerful, brilliant and gay; 
 
 Today grim Death announced his end, 
 And bore him hence away. 
 
 Away into that dark region, 
 From kindred, friend and foe, 
 
 To join the numberless legion 
 Of men who went before. 
 
 Who, now, will cheer the broken hearted, 
 Or shield them from Death's wrath. 
 
 Since the strong, the brave, has departed. 
 And left a corpse in the path ? 
 
 He was adorned with honor's star. 
 Had conquered all but fate; 
 
 Death's wing became his palace car 
 And l3ore him to heaven's gate. 
 
 SleeiD on, dear friend; thou art not dead; 
 
 Much labor bids thee rest 
 Profoundly in thy narrow bed, 
 
 Of mother earth the guest. 
 
 Dixie -4 
 
SKETCHES FKOM LIFE IN DIXIE. 
 
 The good, the great in eminence, 
 The famous, and the proud, 
 
 Shall join thee, shorn of this pretense. 
 Clothed only with a shroud. 
 
 Ambition, pride and hope may rise 
 Towering up Fame's dazzling peaks 
 
 Yet they but find in glory's skies 
 The bier where valor sleeps. 
 
SKETCHES FEOM LIFE IX DIXIE. 
 
 43 
 
 BLUE CORNER. 
 
 DEAE READER: If you ever visit Mississippi, do 
 not. I l^ea' you. leave it till you have seen Blue 
 Corner. It is so superb in its hospitality, so se- 
 ductive in its amusements, so varied in its appear- 
 ance, and so imique in its u'eneral make-up that I want 
 you to see it. 
 
 I blush at the poverty of my vocal)ulary. since it con- 
 tains no descriptive word fur the f ascinatino: pleasures of 
 Blue Corner. The want of this sinu'le word moves me to 
 the a.uTeeable labor of describing' this place in a few hun- 
 dred pao'es of broken remarks. 
 
 I was born in Cxlen Cove, an unassuming' hamlet sit- 
 uated in a remote corner of Mississippi. I remained in 
 this place till my tAvt-nty-third birthday: and there I 
 might have stayed until my huml)le life'^ound its termi- 
 nus under the sere and yellow leaf, had it not been for a 
 wandering book agent. Roliert Roller by name, who 
 came to our home al3out the middle of April. A. D. 
 1890. and made it his headquarters, while he canvassed 
 the coimtry for miles aroimd. with a book called ""The 
 Annals of Bluster City." Like most' of his fellow trades- 
 men he had a wonderful vocabulary, and the continual 
 flow of his words reminded me of the energy that marks 
 the discourse of the new woman: there was no end to it. 
 
 I could offer no resistance to his rounded x^eriods: 
 and so. of evenings, when he returned from his lal:)ors. I 
 
44 
 
 SKETCHES FEOM LIFE IN DIXIE. 
 
 sat riveted to my seat, while lie painted, as only a book 
 ao-ent can, the beauties of ''The Annals of Bluster City." 
 
 From these learned recitals I escaped only when he 
 fell asleep over his labors. He followed me, however, in 
 his slumbers, with such a dogged determination that the 
 toil of his dreams fatigued him, and he arose from his 
 couch haggard and worn. At last his labors were ended, 
 and he was about to take his leave of us forever, when 
 he called me aside and gave me a little confidential in- 
 formation. 
 
 Said he, "Bluster City proper lies about seventy 
 miles from this i3lace. If you desire to visit it. follow 
 this direction: keep to the main county road, which leads 
 off to the northwest through a stretch of fifty miles of 
 primeval pine forest, in which the lumberman's axe has 
 never, or rarely, fallen to break the grandeur of its soli- 
 tude; by Williamsburg, Mount Carmel, Westville, Har- 
 risville, Steens Creek, Pearson Station and on to the 
 River of Pearls ; on the right bank of which stands Blus- 
 ter City. A complete history of this delightful iAs.ce is 
 contained in its annals, with the exception of a single 
 chapter which contains the after thought of its author, 
 written some years before the publication of the last 
 edition, as a kind of appendix. This cha]3ter is known 
 as Blue Corner. When you visit the city do not forget 
 to see it." 
 
 Dear reader, you will not marvel if I tell you 
 "The Annals of Bluster City" destroyed my peace of 
 mind. I read the first edition through to the last chap- 
 ter; and there found written with a bold hand, ''Con- 
 tinued in Blue Corner.'' This book is full of thrilling 
 narratives of love, hatred, revenge and death; among 
 which occasional descriptions of lynching bees are 
 
SKETCHES FKOM LIFE IX DIXIE. 
 
 45 
 
 thrown, to make it easy reacliiio': these of course are in 
 the ,i4Tand passai^vs of the book, of which I am not at 
 liberty to speak. It is enoiioii to say tliey contain 
 the southern idea of greatness, and the supremacy of a 
 superior mind. 
 
 Since it is useless to reach out after the unattainable, 
 you will allow me to return to Blue Corner. It is there 
 I found many a painful experience and the subject-mat- 
 ter for the reminiscences of my eventful life: for I was 
 temjDted. and. true to the Adam in my nature, fell. That 
 is, I made uj) my mind to visit Bluster City, and see the 
 sio-hts. 
 
 Full of this thou^-ht I bundled my little l)elonoino-s 
 together in a bandana handkerchief: and. while my xDar- 
 ents sleiDt. I took what I wanted of their treasures, and 
 departed. The moon in its last quarter poised above 
 the great pine forest, and dropped a flood of silver over 
 its ocean of swaying green: shooting stars were playing 
 about the firmament, and in the distance the baying of 
 the watch dog broke the monotony of the silence: save 
 this, and the beating of my own heart, all were as silent 
 as a city of the dead. 
 
 I stood alone in the heart of the south. l)etween two 
 rivals. Robert Roller's Bluster City, and my mother's 
 love. For an .hour I stopped in the lonely road, and 
 swung between the two like a pendulum, till Blue Cor- 
 ner cast the die and my fate was struck. 
 
 AVith a firm stej). a bold heart and a moist eye I 
 moved off towards the northwest. For three days I jour- 
 neyed in this direction, until I was within a few miles 
 of the city. Then I stopped by the wayside, to rest un- 
 der an elm tree, and fell in a refreshing slumber: and of 
 course I dreamed a dream. For. you will remember, the 
 
46 
 
 SKETCHES FEOM LIFE IN DIXIE. 
 
 family of Jacobs have not a monopoly of this business; 
 and if I did not see a ladder with ascending and de- 
 scending angels, and the sun, moon and stars at my feet. 
 I saw a great cathedral, in which men, women and 
 children had gathered themselves in thanksgiving, be- 
 cause of their victory over Bacchus and the capture of 
 the wild beast that had drawn his chariot. In and 
 around the cathedral were the chiming of bells, the 
 carols of joy, the prattle of children, the loveliness of 
 women, the roll of music and orations by the great men 
 of the city. 
 
 During this jubilee, some mischief making boys 
 wandered off to the museum, where the wild beast was 
 caged, and amused themselves with pulling its tail; which 
 had the x)eculiar effect of making it shed large and 
 copious tears. These tears were caught in a flagon and, 
 because of their delicious taste, were in great demand 
 among the boys; so they pulled its tail the more, some 
 of them holding the flagon to its eyes the while, and the 
 more eager the operation of the boys, the more abundant 
 was the flow of the beast's tears, during which it became 
 perfectly blind, and oblivious of all around it; because 
 of which peculiarity they called it a "blind tiger." 
 
 Anxious to taste the delicious beverage, I made a 
 rush for the flagon, grasped it, and was lifting it to my 
 lips in triumph, when it turned to ashes; and I awoke. 
 Thus ended one of my fantastic dreams of Blue Corner. 
 
 I arose from my rude couch, swung my bandana 
 bundle across my shoulder, and struck out at a brisk 
 walk toward the city, which I reached about four o'clock 
 in the afternoon of May 19, A. D. 1890. 
 
 There was nothing specially attractive about this 
 afternoon, though the scenery had changed wonderfully. 
 
SKETCHES FEOM LIFE IX DIXIE 
 
 47 
 
 Instead of the liuge pine trees, with their long trnnks 
 reaching np and bracing their universal green against 
 the sky; and hills that bulged up like pyramids, leaving 
 but a span between them for valleys : there was the un- 
 dulating landscax3e. with its cultured fields, neat little 
 cottages nestling in the lap of blooming orchards, where 
 the laughter of children, the hum of bees, blooming 
 flowers, murmuring rills and the ploughman's occasional 
 "haw" gave nature a pleasing aspect. 
 
 The road l^roadened and grew into a wide, well 
 graded and commodious pike, where the multitudes go 
 continually. Here another pedestrian came into the 
 high road, from an opposite direction: and as he was of 
 agreeable manners, we walked along together. 
 
 After the usual salutation he asked whence I came. 
 I pointed off toward the southeast, with that care worn 
 expression in gesture and face that told of the roughness 
 of the road over which I had come. "Ah yes!"" said he, 
 "''I rememl^er that hilly country: there the road is a mere 
 path, winding in and out and around immense forest 
 trees, over steep and abrupt boulders, and deep ravines, 
 where the shade of the hills obscures the light of the 
 sun. A rough road indeed, but I dare say you found it 
 more agreeable the further you came toward the north- 
 west?'' 
 
 I smiled, nodded my approval of his remarks, and 
 grasped him by the hand. He held me fraternally by 
 the hand a moment, looked me full in the face and said. 
 "But do you not think you would have found a more 
 agreeable terminus if you had gone the other way?"" I 
 smiled, and said I thought the pike an ideal road, of 
 which no one could justly complain. At this he shook 
 
48 
 
 SKETCHES FROM LIFE IN DIXIE 
 
 his head, and said, "Young man, beware of that thorough- 
 fare where the road is broad and the way wide." 
 
 The crowd grew denser and we lost each other in its 
 pressure. We never met again. I was caught with the 
 multitude and hurried into the city. I found an inn 
 and took lodging for the night. I went to my room 
 early and lay down to rest, but I could not sleep; the 
 novelty of the situation, the remarks of my stranger 
 friend and thoughts of mother kept me awake. Then I 
 remembered; for the first time in my life I had lain 
 down without saying my prayers. I arose and tried to 
 pray one of those elegant prayers which Deacon Doowell 
 prayed at our last camp meeting; but I failed utterly. 
 There was a great lump in my throat, and little liquid 
 beads in the corners of my eyes. Then I buried my 
 fac6 in my hands and murmured the old one mother 
 taught me before I heard of Blue Corner. You may 
 know it. It is so simple. 
 
 "Now I lay me down to sleep, 
 I pray the Lord my soul to keep; 
 If I should die before I wake, 
 I pray the Lord my soul to take.'' 
 
 After this I fell into a profound slumber, from which 
 I was awakened about ten o'clock the next day. 
 
 After breakfast I walked out to see the city. I had 
 not gone far before, to my infinite pleasure, I met 
 Kobert Roller, the book agent. I told him I had come 
 to see Blue Corner, and would thank him to inform me 
 how I could best do it. 
 
 This valuable information given, he advised me to 
 dress myself in suitable apparal, and to meet him on the 
 grand Avenue of Pearls the next day. I then gave him 
 
SKETCHES FEOM LIFE IX DIXIE. 
 
 49 
 
 lifty d(jllars and requested liim to X3iireliase siieli elutliino- 
 as lie thouu'lit I needed. 
 
 He went tV)r the apparel and I returned to my room. 
 In due time he came back with a Idack cloth suit, a pair 
 of shoes, a pluii' hat and some handsome neckware. The 
 shoes were ahout twcj sizes too laro'e. the hat was rather 
 small, the trousers. l)y letting' out my susjDenders, 
 reached to the tops of my shoes and stuck to my legs 
 like a prize fighter's tights, the coat was large enough, 
 but the sleeves were far too short. Roller, however. 
 ' convinced me of the neatness of my appearance, and a 
 further descrix^tion of my costume is unnecessary. 
 
 The next day. dressed in my new suit. I made my 
 appearance on the grand Avenue of Pearls, at the time 
 and place ap^Dointed. I found Roller's place of business 
 with ease. It i^roved to be a combination of barber-shop 
 fixtures, guitars, mandolins, brass horns and other 
 things which our uvntlemen of leisure keep about them. 
 We sat in the shop and talked of every thing in general 
 and nothing specially, until I toldl him of my dream of 
 the flagon, at which he laughed heartily and took me up 
 a flight of winding stairs, into a magnificent room, with 
 frescoed walls, carved furniture and beautiful mirrors. 
 In one of the walls of this room there was a large cylin- 
 der shaped thing with little grooves chiseled in it. and 
 near by a cord, attached to a l^ell (I supposed). 
 
 Roller said. "Pull the c(jrd. drop a dollar in the 
 groove, and say number six." All of Avhicli I did. and 
 the thing revolved. 
 
 Imagine my surprise to find the identical flagon of 
 my dreams, full of the delicious liquid, fresh from the 
 eyes of the tiger, and seventy-five cents in change. 
 Marvel not that the thing wept liquids and change, for 
 
50 
 
 SKETCHES FROM LIFE IN DIXIE 
 
 stranger things than this occur daily in Blue Corner. Is 
 it necessary to say that we quenched our thirst? 
 
 Then a thing Roller called an elevator, but 
 which I knew to be a trap door, let us clown. We re- 
 turned to the shop and renewed our conversation. About 
 this time some fine looking fellows, the elite of the city, 
 came along, wearing long sack coats that struck them 
 below the knees of their pantaloons, and breeches that 
 reminded me of Aunt Peggy's petticoats. They also 
 wore plug hats and gold-rimmed spectacles, and carried 
 with them melodious stringed instruments. One' of 
 them jumped into the chair and said, ''Come, Robert, 
 old boy, give me a shave," which my friend did reluc- 
 tantly. After the shave the fellow said, "Charge that, 
 old boy," and strolled after his companions into an ante 
 room belonging to the shop. I sat there for a long time, 
 talking to my friend Roller, and watching that ante 
 room, into and out of which these gentlemen of leisure 
 were dropping, like flies around a molasses pitcher. 
 
 After a while my friend said, ''George, old boy, how 
 would you like to go back and see the boys?" Curious 
 to see what could be going on in that room, I consented 
 to go. and in company with my friend, I walked back to 
 that little den of — , well, I will not describe the place. 
 
 Here we found several well dressed and gentlemanly 
 looking fellows, seated, somewhat like the Turk at meals, 
 around a large green cloth sjjread out on the floor. They 
 had also five or six white and cubically shaped blocks, 
 with little black spots on them, which they would shake 
 in their hands and throw out on this cloth alternately, 
 and exclaim, as they did so, "Ah, come seven or eleven!" 
 as if their lives dei^ended on the throw of those little 
 cubes. 
 
SKETCHES FEOM LIFE IN DIXIE. 
 
 51 
 
 Notliino- seemed easier than the throw of those cubes 
 and so I remarked as I watched the progress of the 
 game. Then one of the gentlemen asked me to join 
 them in the innocent amusement, which I did. just to 
 while away the time. Another one of them ottered to 
 bet me that I could not make a pass in a month. I ac- 
 cepted the challenge: and after I had been instructed in 
 the intricate meshes of the '"pass." by my friend Eoller. 
 the wager was struck and I started out after that difficult 
 ••pass."' I shook the cubes and threw them: threw them 
 and shook them, till I forgot myself and was saying with 
 the rest, "Ah. come seven or eleven!" But they never 
 came. The money on the green cloth grew larger: and 
 the bulge in my pocket book grew smaller, passed the 
 danger line and glided down to the void with a ven- 
 geance. 
 
 Still I shook those accursed cubes, until large drops 
 of perspiration stood out on my forehead cold and daz- 
 zling like water dripping from a ball of ice under a 
 burning sun. 
 
 I shook those cubes again, deceptive cubes, to throw 
 them for the i3ass. The bets ran high, "A dollar, five, 
 ten. twenty, thirty, fifty dollars that you do not make 
 the pass!" exclaimed many voices together, as I leaned 
 over on one hand and my knees, with the other hand 
 above my head poised for the pass, repeating as I did 
 so, "Oh. come seven or eleven!" 
 
 This is a fascinating if not an innocent pleasure: so 
 much so that no one notes the time, and little bits of 
 cash that pass between his fingers while engaged in it. 
 The time I might have spent and the money lost at it 
 would have been immense had it not been for two gentle- 
 men of the city who came into our presence unexpect- 
 
52 
 
 SKETCHES FROM LIFE IN DIXIE 
 
 €dly and unannounced. As well as I can remember they 
 were above the average size, dressed in navy blue suits, 
 with brass buttons dazzling down the front of their 
 coats. They carried revolvers and heavy clubs, and 
 wore a visage that would have awed Satan himself. And 
 yet, withal, they were models of politeness. They de- 
 clared the game otf, to my infinite pleasure ; for every 
 fabric of my nervous system w^as in a state of rebellion, 
 and my conscience, well, my conscience — since I come 
 to think of it — for the time being I had none. After 
 this they escorted us up the main streets of the city to 
 a large palatial building with four fronts. This is a 
 magnificent building, with high ceilings, decorated walls 
 and carpeted floors: an ideal place for the throwing of 
 those little cubes. They led us on and on, up winding- 
 stairs, into a large s]3acious room, which one of our 
 guides kindly informed me was the judgment hall; 
 whereupon I asked him if the game would be decided 
 here: for you will remember they held the stakes from 
 the time we left the ante room of Roller's shop. 
 
 Arrived at the judgment hall, we were examined as 
 to the state of the game when our friends in blue arrived. 
 Most of the boys engaged in it pretended that it was in 
 fun, but I, being uninitiated, told the thing as it was, and 
 begged the iDroprietor of this i^lace to give me another 
 chance, as I was young in the game, and I ought not to 
 be dealt with harshly. He rolled a pair of little piggish 
 eyes at me, and commanded order in court. 
 
 Whether from instinct or intelligence -I know not, 
 but one learns rapidly in such places, and I, being no 
 exception to the rule, began to understand things: and 
 stood apart awaiting develoi:)ments, which were not long- 
 in materializing. The judge said, "'What say you all, 
 
SKETCHES EEOM LIFE IX DIXIE. 
 
 u'liiltY or not LJ'iiilty "Z" All answered o'uilty but me. 
 Then he turned to me and said. "What say you. sir: how 
 do you x^lead to this cdiarg'e of gamino-y" 
 
 •"There can be no charge against me. your honor; 
 those fellows would have my money." 
 
 •"How would they have itV" 
 
 •'By the throw of those cubes, sir." 
 
 "Oh Avell. you are guilty, too." Whereupon we were 
 asked to pay a small sum into the school fund, and the 
 expense account of the temple of justice. In default of 
 which our friends in blue and brazen buttons were to 
 conduct us further on the inspection of Blue Corner, 
 and the novelty of its inner chamber. I handed over 
 my little contribution, on the advice of one of our 
 escorts, and left our friends in the tender toils of the 
 law. struggling to make the pass. 
 
 It seems to me I can hear that peculiar sound. '•Ah. 
 come seven or eleven!" ringing in my ears to this day. 
 
 I tell you few men can escape the fascination of this 
 peculiar game. I charge all to beware of it. for nothing- 
 else so utterly destroys the conscience. 
 
 It was sad to see those long sack coats and big-leg 
 pantaloons flopping down to the gambler's haven with- 
 out a single extenuating circumstance to lull the tnjubled 
 waters. Roller, the barber, cast one long lingering look 
 at me. with tears in his eyes, as the ponderous gate 
 swung back on its hinges to welcome him to his new 
 quarters. I was overcome by x^ity and felt for my pocket- 
 book, when suddenly I remembered the proverb. "A 
 fool and his uKjiiey are soon parted:" then I gave him 
 my tears instead, for I turned aside and wex^t aloud. 
 Why should I not. after such an innocent experience? 
 
 In this plight I was ab( ut to leave the court rcom. 
 
54 
 
 SKETCHES FROM LIFE IN DIXIE. 
 
 when I felt a heavy hand on my arm and, looking up, 
 beheld Mr. Vasty, the police judge, who said, "This way, 
 young man, I wish to speak with you.'' He led me 
 back to his desk, and lectured in this manner: "Young 
 man, I believe this is your first visit here. I hope you 
 will make it your last. You ought to have more respect 
 for your parents than this. You know what sacrifices 
 they have made to place you on better terms with good 
 and worthy men, and here you are overtaken at last in a 
 den of thieves. I do not wish to be hard on you. It is 
 painful to me to inflict punishment on any one. It is 
 duty, not desire, that moves me. It is among my vain re- 
 grets, that it has fallen to my lot to see so many young- 
 men, black and white, daily entangled in the meshes of 
 vice. Vain regrets to me, because I cannot persuade 
 them to stop before it is too late. 
 
 "To me, gambling resembles the characteristics of 
 the vampire bat, which spends the day sleeping in the 
 folds of trojjical flowers and when evening draws on, 
 flutters down from a wilderness of honey to feast on 
 blood. It circles around its unsuspecting victim and 
 fans him to sleej) with the rotary of its perfumed wings; 
 then, during his unconsciousness it sucks away his 
 life blood; and the morrow finds a carcass under the 
 fangs of the treacherous thing. Such is the vice of 
 gambling. With its alluring fascination it fans the 
 conscience of the young and inexperienced into repose, 
 till it steals away their self respect, their manhood, 
 their souls! I am going to suspend this sentence, in so 
 far as it relates to you; to give you a chance to redeem 
 your good name; but if you are brought here again, re- 
 member, no mercy will be shown. Go, and let me hear 
 a good re^Dort of you." So saying he handed back the 
 
SKETCHES FEOM LIFE IX DIXIE 
 
 55 
 
 money I had paid him; and I walked out of the court 
 room a wiser, if not a better man. 
 
 A few i3aces brought me to the Avenue of Pearls. I 
 stood in its crowded ways solitary and alone, casting 
 about for a friendly face, in the midst of the sea of 
 humanity which rolled about me like the lashing of the 
 endless waters of the deep; but all was a shoreless waste 
 of ocean, where the stately ships sail ouAvard and the 
 stranded ones go down. Then thoughts of the wilder- 
 ness, home and mother returned to me. I heard a noise 
 of wings above and looked up; the eternal arch of the 
 heavens deepened, and my fancy caught a glimpse of 
 the haven beyond. Involuntarily I repeated: 
 
 " 'Mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam, 
 Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home.'' 
 
 In the midst of my dejection some one handed me a 
 note. I opened it and read as follows: 
 
 Dear George: 
 
 Please come over to the jail: I have something of importance to 
 tell you. Robert Roller. 
 
 I walked back to the jail and gave the signal. A 
 short stumpy fellow thrust a head into the entrance. 
 Such a head! It rested on a neck that arched over a 
 roll of fat, its back was i^arallel with its spine; its fore- 
 head j)rotruded; its base bulged out over little bits of 
 ears; its nose had a crook in it: its jaws were very prom- 
 inent; its lips were very thin and puckered from their 
 pressure; and its eyes were a cold steel gray. A further 
 description is useless, since you know him to be the 
 jailer. 
 
 I stammered out a request to see one Robert Roller. 
 He called Roller: and bade me enter. Roller came, 
 
56 
 
 SKETCHES FEOM LIFE IN DIXIE. 
 
 took me aside and told me his secret. He then gave me 
 the keys to his shop, and asked me to wind up his 
 business. We shook hands, and I walked over to the 
 shop and began the imi3ortant duty of closing out his 
 affairs. 
 
 I entered the shop, locked the door behind me, and 
 took an inventory of its contents. Then I opened the 
 note Roller had slipped into my X30cket. It directed me 
 to a niche in the wall where I would find a chart or dia- 
 gram of the place. I found the chart without much 
 trouble and read it over carefully. It contained start- 
 ling revelations about imp doors, subterranean passages, 
 chambers, wdne rooms and vaults. 
 
 With that chart in hand I made for the vaults, as 
 directed by Roller. My way led through the wine room, 
 where were stored about forty barrels of different brands 
 of whiskey and wines; presently I came to the vaults, 
 applied the combination and the door stood ajar. There 
 lay before my bewildered gaze millions of bills in de- 
 nominations of fives, tens and twenties; and a keg of 
 gold. The gold was made by the ilicit sale of whisky; 
 and the bills were made otherwise. 
 
 During my surjDrise I heard a voice say, "Hurry, 
 friend, or we shall never leave this place alive;" and 
 looking up I beheld the gray eyes of the jailer looking 
 sternly and coldly at me. Then he moved over to my side, 
 slapped me on the shoulder, and said in a whisper, "By 
 jove! you are a jewel." This gave me courage, and with 
 his assistance I loaded the gold and bales of bills on 
 trucks ; and trucked them along the passage to a - point 
 designated by the jailer's index finger. He touched a 
 spring in the wall and a trap door let me in. 
 
 He then told me that in less than an hour the officers 
 
SKETCHES FEOM LIFE IX DIXIE. 
 
 57 
 
 of the law and a detective would raid the place; and that 
 his object was to place those valuables beyond their 
 reach. 
 
 He then showed me a Avicket in the wall, where I could 
 observe the operations of those who might come, with- 
 out being myself observed; and another trajo door 
 beneath my feet, which would let me out should the 
 officers, by any mischance, locate the one in the wall. 
 To tell the truth, I was tra^Dped and snared everywhere. 
 
 The jailer then stei3i3ed into the passage, the magic 
 door swung back to its position, and the cavity in the 
 wall was closed. In about an hour I heard the noise of 
 many feet above, the tearing away of fixtures, the mov- 
 ing of furniture and the jests of the officers; and knew 
 that the establishment was being plundered. Presently 
 they entered the passage, led by the jailer, who by the 
 way is a kind of detective himself; and in this 
 case he was detecting the detective. They de- 
 scended into the subterranean rooms and began investi- 
 gating the wine room. The officers of the city were 
 hilarious over their success in cai3turing the greatest il- 
 icit whiskey establishment south of Tennessee, and the 
 convivial ones among them made themselves merry by 
 tapx)ing a barrel of old Bourbon, But the detective's 
 face wore a dejected grin and his eyes showed him to be 
 foiled. 
 
 They loassed along near the trap door that concealed 
 me and I heard the detective say, "T would have bet a 
 million dollars that the counterfeiters were here." The 
 subterranean walls threw back the echo and they passed 
 on. The tension of my nerves lowered, I drew a breath 
 of relief and sat down on the keg of gold to rest, wonder- 
 ing in my simple mind what designs Roller and the jailer 
 
 Dixie— 5 
 
58 
 
 SKETCHES EEOM LIFE IN DIXIE 
 
 had on me ; for it now began to dawn upon me that they 
 were companions in crime. 
 
 About eleven o'clock that night the door swung open ; 
 and Roller and the jailer entered, bringing with them 
 two large trunks. I feigned sleep; but as a precaution 
 against my waking they held a bottle of chloroform to my 
 nose. I lay there as one dead; but I could hear and see 
 everything that passed. After a while the drug lost its 
 charm, but I slept on. During my nap they destroyed 
 the moulds in which they had manufactured their for- 
 tune, packed the bales of counterfeit bills into the trunks, 
 loaded them on the trucks and prepared everything for 
 immediate departure. By this time I was fully awake; 
 but still pretended to be under the influence of the drug. 
 Then they began to discuss me. 
 
 Said Roller to the jailer, "More than two cannot keep 
 a secret. What must we do with the simpleton from 
 Glen Cove?" 
 
 The jailer whispered something in his ear, and I saw 
 from the iron in their faces that they were meditating 
 my death. Roller drew a rope from his pocket, and be- 
 gan to look at a beam overhead, the jailer reapplied the 
 chloroform, but to no purpose; in the presence of death I 
 could not sleep. 
 
 They then made a noose in the roj^e and placed it 
 about my neck. The jailer, being the stronger of the 
 two, held me up ; and Roller began to tie the other end 
 of the rope to the beam ; but while they were hanging 
 me, I was hypnotizing them; and they soon began to re- 
 trace their steps. When they had untied me, I took the 
 chart, touched the spring in the door, and it swung 
 noiselessly back. I then hurried the trucks and their 
 burden along the passage to its exit, which opened on 
 
SKETCHES FKOM LIFE IX DIXIE. 
 
 59 
 
 the banks of the River of Pearls; here I found a boat 
 and oars. I dumped the money aboard, grasped the 
 oars, and shot down the stream like a spectre. I never 
 heard of Roller or the jailer again. l)ut I sui3pose they 
 are still pulling away at that blind tiger's tail. 
 
 Such is the story of Blue Corner, as told to me by 
 Greorge Rusticham himself. 
 
60 
 
 SKETCHES FKOM LIFE IN DIXIE 
 
 TO THE DAISY. 
 
 NO, the cold damp earth could not restrain thee, 
 Nor the bleak north winds retard thy coming; 
 For first on the green where the lambs are run- 
 ning. 
 
 And down where the rushing brooklet doth flee, 
 In its musical cadence on to the sea, 
 
 Thy sweet face has been modestly turning 
 
 Its delicate features up to the sunning, 
 And throwing its fragrance over the lea, 
 In a wild and most exuberant way. 
 
 Oh, I love thee, wee blue eyed daisy fair! 
 And I wish thou might blow out there for aye. 
 
 Filled with loveliness, perfuming the air. 
 And alluring me from the broad highway, 
 
 To gather garlands for my lady fair. 
 
 Thou sit'st upon the meadow's lap of green. 
 Like smiles upon the face of a sleeping babe, 
 And the zephyrs sighing through the everglade, 
 
 Waft thy perfumes to the winding stream 
 
 That lies at thy feet a beautiful sheen; 
 
 By the skill of the Master cunningly made, 
 To catch the likeness of my dark eyed maid 
 
 As she gathers her garlands there, I ween ; 
 
 Thy Circean beauty bewilders me. 
 For truly, I am curious to know 
 
 Why the most delicate flowers that be. 
 
 Upon lawn, heather and bough, should first blow, 
 
 Fairest and sweetest in their modesty, 
 Of all the beautiful flowers that grow. 
 
SKETCHES FROM LIFE IN DIXIE. 
 
 THE FATE OF ALL 
 
 THEY'LL bring when we are dead, perchance, 
 Some flowers from their garden, friend; 
 And place them where Time's cruel lance 
 Has marked for us, for all, the end. 
 
 They'll drop upon our bier a tear. 
 And close for us our eyes; and then 
 
 They will leave us forgotten here, 
 
 Till time has run its course with men. 
 
 If thought of us survives a day, 
 
 A month, a year or century. 
 Still we shall be forgot for aye; 
 
 For time consumes all memory. 
 
 If Love should rear her shaft of stone. 
 To mark our little mound of dust. 
 
 The granitic fate too well is known — - 
 It shall decay to mould with us. 
 
 A few brief years may yet remain 
 
 To us on this delightful shore, 
 Then in the silent land's domain 
 
 We shall rest in peace forevermore. 
 
 The generations yet to come, . 
 
 Creation's vast immensity. 
 Shall find with us a common home, 
 
 For commonage's our destiny. 
 
62 SKETCHES FROM LIFE IN DIXIE 
 
 The vast expanse of all the deep 
 
 Shall one day pause and cease to roll; 
 
 The liquid grave where millions sleep 
 Shall itself give up its soul. 
 
 When oblivion reigns supreme, 
 Down the endless aisles of chaos, 
 
 All things become alike gangrene, 
 In the land where spirit leaves us. 
 
 TO A JILT. 
 
 X ^ HY did you not tell me your heart is stone, 
 \ k Where hope, nor joy, nor pleasures abide; 
 WW At whose granite base lies broken my own. 
 Shorn of its faith and bereft of its pride? 
 
 Yes, I recall, you said something of this, 
 
 But the light of your eye, the smile of your face, 
 
 Led me to confide in the promised bliss 
 
 You taught me to seek of your assumed grace. 
 
 And I dreamed not that one with features so fair. 
 And a form which truly the angels envy, 
 
 Could weave so well the treacherous snare 
 Of vice, and pride, and perjured frenzy. 
 
 Fare thee well! Satanic creature, adieu! 
 
 Think no more of him who now tries to wean 
 His soul from squandering his all on you — 
 
 Thou false in friendship, in wedlock a fiend! 
 
SKETCHES FEOM LIFE IN DIXIE. 
 
 68 
 
 LINES. 
 
 td by the Assaults made on the Xegro Soldiers as they passed 
 rough the south on their ^vay to and from our -Tvar ^ith Spain. 
 
 XjrOW I love my country yon have heard, 
 I I And I would you were noble and free 
 I I In spirit and deed, as in word, 
 
 \^ And your boasted humanity. 
 
 I love you, my country, I do, — 
 
 Here's a heart, a soul that is thine, 
 Pregnant with devotion for you, 
 
 And blind to your faults as to mine. 
 
 The standard of morals is high; 
 
 When fixed by my brother for me. 
 It goes towering up to the sky 
 
 With a dazzling purity. 
 For a bench he sits on a skull. 
 
 And is a judge austere and stern, 
 With whom my demurrers are null, 
 
 And my pleadings, though just, are spurned. 
 
 I've carried your flag to the front 
 
 Through pestilence, battles and storms; 
 Of the carnage of war took the blunt. 
 
 Obeyed your command, "Carry arms!"' 
 And gone with you down to the death, 
 
 With the thorns of caste on my head; 
 Defended your home and your hearth. 
 
 And wept o'er the bier of your dead. 
 
SKETCHES FEOM LIFE IN DIXIE. 
 
 As the smoke of the fight goes by, 
 
 And the bugle calls to repose, 
 By my countryman's hands I die. 
 
 As well as by the hands of its foes; 
 Yet I love you, my country, I do, 
 
 Here's a heart, a soul that is thine, 
 Pregnant with devotion for you, 
 
 And blind to your faults as to mine. 
 
 MY LIST OF BEAUTIFUL THINGS. 
 
 LIST of my beautiful things?" 
 
 Well, have you seen my Evylin; 
 
 The beautiful, beautiful Evylin? 
 She's my list of beautiful things. 
 
 A world of beautiful things is she. 
 Grand! chaste! personified 
 Love she stands in purity's pride 
 
 And thinks of me, and thinks of me. 
 
 Poems of ethical thought is she, 
 Divinely sung on every page ; 
 All her womanly heart engaged 
 
 With love of me, with love of me. 
 
 My list of beautiful things, 
 
 None were ever so sublimely grand. 
 To her I give my heart and hand, 
 
 And all the wealth my labor brings. 
 
SKETCHES FEOM LIFE IX DIXIE. 
 
 A MESSAGE FOR JANETT. 
 
 ■AR away where the raoino; sea goes, 
 
 There our brave and daring heroes 
 
 Fou^-ht the battles of the free; 
 From the hands of arrogant Spain 
 Stru(?k the sword of tyranny. 
 On the plains of El Caney. 
 
 But o'er the halo of our glory 
 
 Falls the mem'ry of our brave. 
 Stalwart men. all maimed and gory. 
 
 Sleeping in a foreign grave. 
 Where the grim Spanish armament. 
 
 And her gallant men of war. 
 
 Threw death's missiles wide and far. 
 
 There among the dead and dying- 
 Lay a victim of their rage. 
 
 By a Spanish block house lying. 
 Amid the battle's carnage. 
 
 He yields to death while glory weeps; 
 But conquers its agony. 
 And recks not of its misery. 
 
 Xow his mind on fancy's pinion 
 
 Wings its flight to friends and home, 
 
 Takes its leave of war's dominion, 
 Flutters down the vista gloam; 
 
 Till again his friends and loved ones 
 
 In the islands of the sea. 
 
SKETCHES FROM LIFE IN DIXIE. 
 
 Shout their welcome in his ear, 
 O'er his comrade's martial cheer. 
 
 But his end came nearer, nearer; 
 
 Yet he raised his manly head. 
 And in language somewhat clearer 
 
 Called his comrade near, and said, 
 "Comrade, if you should live it through 
 
 Tell them how we met the Don, 
 
 Fought for human rights and won; 
 
 ''Strove to place our standard higher 
 On the ramparts of the free, 
 
 Defied the Spaniard's deadly fire 
 And died for humanity; 
 
 Tell them of our negro heroes. 
 Of the valiant black brigade, 
 And the gallant charge it made. 
 
 "You remember there's another, 
 
 Dearer far than all to me — 
 Comrade, don't forget my mother, 
 
 For she is all expectancy. 
 Tell her that I met death bravely, 
 
 With the red sod for a bed. 
 
 And 'Old Glory' over head. 
 
 "You will find her by the hearthstone 
 Near the northern Mexic coast — 
 
 Dreaming that I'm coming home, 
 And the Spaniard's cause is lost. — 
 
 'What answer shall you make to her?' 
 Tell her that she lost a son, 
 But the day was nobly won. 
 
SKETCHES FEOM LIFE IX DIXIE 
 
 "Then you'll take a message for me 
 
 To Janett. across the main: 
 There she's bravely Avaiting for me. 
 
 But we'll never meet again 
 On that undulating landscape, 
 
 Rolling onward, copse and lea. 
 
 In their rustic i^urity. 
 
 "Where a laughing, rippling streamlet, 
 
 Playing Avith the golden sands, 
 Loiters by the peaceful hamlet, 
 
 Winds along the falloAv lands. 
 Through a green and varied landscape, 
 
 There Janett awaits for me. 
 
 In a cottage near the sea. 
 
 'Tn a garden, sweetly laden 
 
 With the roses neAvly bloAvn. 
 There the comely, gracious maiden 
 
 Stands before her cottage home; 
 Now she moves across the landscape 
 
 Through the copse and o'er the lea. 
 
 See! she comes to Avelcome me! 
 
 "You will knoAv her by her lashes. 
 Fringing eyes as dark as jet: 
 
 And her curly raven tresses — 
 You can't miss my fair Janett, 
 
 With her beautiful curved neck. 
 And the rare angelic grace 
 Of her motion, form and face." 
 
 Here his voice grcAv faint and broken. 
 But his face Avith rapture shone. 
 
SKETCHES FEOM LIFE IN DIXIE. 
 
 As he held aloft the token 
 
 Which he through the fight had borne; 
 
 'Twas our old and riven ensign. 
 That his clotted blood did blur — 
 This the message sent to her. 
 
 MY SUBURBAN GIRL 
 
 I KNOW a sweet suburban girl, 
 She's witty, bright and brief ; 
 With dimples in her cheeks ; and pearl 
 In rubies set, for teeth. 
 
 Beneath her glossy raven hair 
 
 There beams the hazel eye, 
 Bright as the star of evening there 
 
 Where the yellow sunbeams die. 
 
 Her breath is like a flower blown, 
 
 In fragrance and perfume ; 
 Her voice seems from the blissful throne 
 
 Where their harps the angels tune. 
 
 Her waist is just a trifle more 
 
 Than a cubit in its girth; 
 But when there my arms I throw, 
 
 I've all there is of earth. 
 
 And when she turns her dimpled cheek 
 
 Toward me for a kiss, 
 I lose expression — cannot speak — 
 
 And take all there is of bliss. 
 
SKETCHES FEOM LIFE IX DIXIE 
 
 THE SOUTHERN GIRL 
 
 THE fairest tliiii^u' on land or sea 
 Is the Soiithern girl, to me. 
 Yon should see her v\dien the stars 
 Come studding all the sky; 
 And feel her beaming eye 
 
 On you ^dien the moon is full — 
 Fairest of all that's fair is she, ' • . 
 The Southern girl, to me. 
 
 You should hear her laugh by night, 
 In the moonlight clear and bright. 
 
 When the zephyrs light and low. 
 Across the gardens steal. 
 To play with the ^larechal-Xeil. ' 
 
 And caress the beautiful girl — 
 Fairest of all that's fair is she. 
 The Southern girl, to me. 
 
 Beneath the Marechal-Xeil by night. 
 In the hush of the dead twilight. 
 
 You should meet the Southern girl; • 
 And hear the angel sing. 
 The bonny angel sing; 
 
 And feast on wit. and joy. and love — 
 Fairest of all that's fair is she, 
 The Southern girl, to me. 
 
 The vocal enwoven beauty 
 Of her graces ever cheers me. 
 
SKETCHES FROM LIFE IN DIXIE. 
 
 As I listen to the cadence 
 Of her metrical airs, 
 Whene'er she trills and dares 
 
 Some melodious chord to make — 
 Fairest of all that's fair is she, 
 The Southern girl, to me. 
 
 After the wooing and merry days, 
 Go with her through her toiling ways, 
 
 As mother, and wife, and friend; 
 Learn the iron will, 
 The courage and the skill 
 
 Of the typical Southern girl — 
 Fairest of all that's fair is she, 
 The Southern girl, to me. 
 
 OME, tripping, tripping, tripping, oh, 
 
 And we'll tread the royal measure. 
 
 Down the aisles of wit and pleasure, 
 Gilding softly, sweetly so. 
 On the nimble, nimble toe. 
 
 Come, lightly, lightly, lightly, oh! 
 Press me softly as we go. 
 Playfully skix3ping to and fro, 
 As round, and round we reel and go, 
 Gliding softly, sweetly so. 
 On the nimble, nimble toe. 
 
 ELLA'S DANCE. 
 
 On the light fantastic toe; 
 
SKETCHES FROM LIFE IN DIXIE. 
 
 71 
 
 FLORA. 
 
 I SOUGHT her in the woodland 
 Where the dogwood blossoms blow, 
 And thought I had her cornered 
 Where the little rill doth flow. 
 Laughs and sings, laughs and sings, 
 Sweeping over golden sands. 
 Like a living thing 
 
 On burnished silver wings. 
 
 But the cunning elf escaped me, 
 
 And left me standing there. 
 Bewildered by the cadence 
 
 Of her music in the air; 
 
 In the air, in the air • - 
 The poesy of nature. 
 Struck by the feathered tribe, 
 
 Ran lyrical everywhere. 
 
 Till fancy caught her smiling 
 
 In the budding of the trees, ; 
 Where tiny little leaflets 
 
 L^nfolded to the breeze. 
 
 To the breeze, to the breeze, 
 When Flora came a-riding 
 A sunbeam for a steed. 
 
 Down the floral highways of the leas. 
 
 And the cunning elf flew onward, 
 With magical little wand 
 
SKETCHES FROM LIFE IN DIXIE, 
 
 Painting up the butter cui3s 
 
 Beside her as she ran, 
 
 As she ran, as she ran; 
 Till her jDrancing steed stood still 
 Entangled in the snare 
 
 On my lady's cheeks of tan. 
 
 You cunning little elfin, 
 
 I have sought you ev'rywhere 
 To find you 'neath the tresses 
 
 Of a girFs disheveled hair; 
 
 Lady fair, graced and rare. 
 When you stoop to plant the 'rose 
 You but set its colors 
 
 In your cheeks, my lady fair. 
 
 NANNIE IS A BONNIE MAID. 
 
 NANNIE, she is dearer far 
 Than all the girls I know, 
 For when the cook deserts her ma 
 And swears shell work no more? 
 She puts her latest music by 
 And bakes an apple pie. 
 
 Nannie is a bonnie maid. 
 
 There's none so neat and fair. 
 
 As she when dressed in Wesson plaid, 
 And banged her glossy hair. 
 
 With all her silken skirts put by. 
 
 While she serves the apple pie. 
 
SKETCHES FEOM LIFE IX DIXIE. 
 
 73 
 
 MY PRAYER. 
 
 Y Savior, in life's ebb and floT^'. 
 
 Through its changes gnard Thou me. 
 
 I am weak and poor and blind, 
 And oft in my weakness I find 
 Vile sin has stol'n my peace of mind. 
 And driven me, Oh Lord, from Thee. 
 
 Eternal One, hide not Thy face, 
 But grant me mercy, love and grace. 
 And in Thy providence a place 
 Of security and rest. 
 
 I know Thou art rich without me. 
 That one, God. the Spirit and Thee, 
 Is th' eternal Deity: 
 
 And angels are Thy worshipers. 
 
 In Thy hands love and justice dwell. 
 And the hosts of light, earth and hell 
 Obedient to Thy Avill must swell 
 The long roll at the judgment call. 
 
 Lord, I know when the bleeding heart 
 Looks up to Thee, Thou wilt impart 
 L^pon each ruxotured broken part 
 
 The soothing balm of Thy sweet love. 
 
 In its turmoil, in its glow. 
 In its triumxjh. in its woe. 
 
 Dixie— 6 
 
SKETCHES FEOM LIFE IN DIXIE 
 
 And when estranged are all earth's friends 
 And the gloom of rejection still tends 
 To obstruct my way, Thou wilt send 
 Me Thy comforter from above. 
 
 And if fortune at last should beam 
 Upon my obscure path, a gleam 
 Of sunshine from Thy upper realm, 
 I know the sunshine, Lord, is Thine. 
 
 Lord, I would learn to love mankind. 
 Through love of him a passage find 
 To a rich and bright and purer mind, 
 And home and rest at last with Thee. 
 
SKETCHES FEOM LIFE IN DIXIE, 75 
 
 THE ABDUCTION AND RAPE OF THEMIS. 
 
 ]T was June 2Tth. Ib90, when the abduction of which 
 I am now speaking occurred. On the Monday fol- 
 lowing' this date our court was to have convened in 
 the little town of Popular Swells: and at this ses- 
 sion of the court one Roderic Vulcan, with others, were 
 to have been tried for the murder of Thomas Ebon, 
 Ebon was an industrious and well-to-do fellow, who had. 
 in some unaccountable way. incurred the displeasure of 
 some of his neig:hbors: and. because of this estransre- 
 ment. was ill at ease; all the more so. because of his 
 i.anorance of the offense said to have been committed, 
 
 Xo one would inform him of the cause of the com- 
 plaint ag^ainst him: notwithstanding the fact that he 
 made strenuous eff'orts to discover it. that he misrlit so 
 demean himself as to again possess their good graces. 
 
 His eff'orts were unavailing. The antix^athy grew. 
 ZSIen passed him with contracted brows and averted eyes. 
 Women evaded him. and the children hooted at him as 
 he xjassed them: they even pelted him with stones. 
 
 At last the poor fellow awoke one morning to find 
 lacked to his door a large placard, warning him against 
 longer residing in the community: and advising him to 
 leave at once, and to stand not ux^on the order of his 
 going. 
 
 Conscious of his innocence, and believing himself to 
 l^e in a country whose government was 'potent enough 
 to protect the property, person and life of its most hum- 
 Lie citizen, he comx3lained to those in authority; but 
 
76 
 
 SKETCHES FEOM LIFE IN DIXIE 
 
 they, under time honored precedents, could do nothing 
 till some overt act had been committed. About three 
 days after the j)osting of the ominous placard, several of 
 those famous "Unknown persons" came to his home, and 
 began the depredations common to Law and Order 
 Leagues, and White Cappers. They succeeded in ap- 
 plying the torch to his house, and, as he was running 
 from the flames, in killing him; but not until he had 
 mortally wounded two of his assailants, and slightly in- 
 jured others. Vulcan, the mayor of Popular Swells,, 
 was among the wounded. 
 
 Incensed, and feeling themselves outraged by an act 
 so dire, the best citizens of the community resolved to 
 have the guilty parties tried in the courts of justice, and 
 the offenders determined that they would not be so 
 ceremoniously dealt with. So they conspired and brought 
 forth this atrocious scheme: The abduction and rape 
 of Themis. The success of their endeavors, the wonder 
 of many, was brought about in this way. 
 
 Vulcan, a cunning as well as a villainous man, being 
 but slightly hurt, gathered his friends. Bob Prejudice, 
 Jacob Avarice, Tom Calumny, Joe Hate, Leon Caste, 
 Frank Deceit, Gabriel Pride and Ed. Malice, about him 
 and laid before them his plans. He concluded his 
 patriotic appeal to them with this peroration: "Now, 
 my friends, after thirty years of active service in this 
 way, u]3on Ebon and his friends, we begin to hear 
 whispers of law, justice, good citizenship, the fatherhood 
 of God and the brotherhood of man. as if we had not an 
 inborn right to chastise those whom our fancy singles 
 out as deserving it; that they may be encouraged in 
 their obedience to our will, which, you are aware, is the 
 law of this community. Ours is the wish of superiors 
 
SKETCHES FROM LIFE IN DIXIE. 
 
 77 
 
 to inferiors, and fate adjures them to obey. This Themis 
 brings a strang-e doctrine to us, one which will divest us 
 of much pleasure and, if she is adhered to, may give us 
 serious trouble. She, however, is a beautiful being. I 
 am captivated with her lofty mien, her alabaster features 
 and her serene grandeur of x3oise; yet she must not pre- 
 side when we are in court as defendants. I leave it to 
 you, my friends, to rid me of this unstress of the law. 
 If any of you, my brethern, have anything of interest to 
 suggest, it is in order now.'' 
 
 Whereupon Caste, Pride. Hate and Malice cried out, 
 "We concur in what your honor has said. We have 
 nothing to add. We will prove our faith by our w^orks." 
 
 Then Prejudice arose and said: ''I wish to say that 
 I think we shall make no mistake if we edit a newspaper. 
 Through it we can i^ersuade the pul)lic to believe in the 
 justice of our cause. Give us a newspaper with my friend 
 Calumny as its editor, and we have nothing to fear. I 
 have faith in the powers and irresistable diplomacy of 
 Calumny. In his hands the beings in the Kingdom of 
 Ijight arebut chalk. You remember with what skillful 
 address he met the son of God in the judgment hall of 
 Pilate. Then what is man, poor, simjDle, vacillating man, 
 in his hand? If you would seduce the public, and make 
 it subservient to our will, put Calumny in charge of a 
 first-class newspaper. To this end I entreat you." 
 
 '"It is so ordered. Is there anything further?" said 
 the mayor. 
 
 Then Calumny began to address them in the follow- 
 ing manner: "If I have had any success in my humble 
 efforts in persuading the public to do its duty, it is be- 
 cause I have always had the untiring and efficient aid 
 of my friend Prejudice. He has ever been faithful and 
 
78 
 
 SKETCHES FROM LIFE IN DIXIE 
 
 true to me. In the historic scene he refers to, that 
 sublime tragedy in the hall of Pilate, I remember with 
 pleasure how faithfully he acted his part. He is a logi- 
 cian whose arguments cannot be resisted. No man can 
 reason with him. If he cannot bribe the beings of 
 light, he can so warp their testimony as to (seemingly ) 
 make them stultify themselves; and as for those detest- 
 able things known as patriots and philanthropists, their 
 greatest deeds of valor, xoatriotism and courage, and their 
 most sincere acts of kindness and humanity, are painted 
 by him so that they appear as the most atrocious trea- 
 son. He has an eye for the beautiful. You should see 
 his palace! No language can describe it! A magnifi- 
 cent place! In it there has not fallen a single ray of 
 light since the dawn of civilization. It is the only piece 
 of chaos reason cannot penetrate. If we can but con- 
 fine this strange goddess, this Themis, in that rfiaster- 
 piece of mechanism, we are absolutely secure. Give me 
 Prejudice as my business manager, and all will be well." 
 
 Calumny having finished his remarks, Vulcan said: 
 "My friends, we must, if possible, persuade Themis to- 
 abandon her rash course and become one of us. If we 
 fail in this, which is very likely, then our time honored- 
 custom shall prevail." 
 
 ^ -X- -X- -X- -X- 
 
 It was now one hour past high noon, June 27th, 1890. 
 Themis, having refreshed herself with milk, honey and 
 dates, had returned to her labors, and was meditating up- 
 on the follies of men, and how she could best turn them 
 to their own good, with the least possible injury ta 
 themselves. 
 
 I think I hear her soliloquizing thus: "What i& 
 better for all the people than mutual tolerance and for- 
 
SKETCHES FEOM LIFE IN DIXIE. 
 
 79 
 
 bearance and laws which receive the consent of the 
 governed; laws whereof the memory of man runs not to 
 the contrary; judiciously and impartially administered 
 on all alike?" This, however, may be but an echo from 
 those defunct and cranky old fossils, Kent. Coke and 
 Blackstone; or the errors of my own foolish fancy. I 
 will relate what occurred. 
 
 In some mysterious w^ay she called u^d Socrates, the 
 wise, Romulus and Justinian of Rome; and after ad- 
 dressing them in a tongue unknown to me, she called up 
 others from the silent land, among whom were Alfred 
 the Grreat of England, Washington, Franklin, Jefferson 
 and Lincoln of America, and addressed them in this 
 manner: "Ah, my good friends, your theory of govern- 
 ment, I fear, cannot succeed. It does not, as was ex- 
 pected, secure uniform justice, protection and oppor- 
 tunity for all its citizens. Many of the most patriotic 
 people of America are proscribed, and their civil and 
 natural rights ignored. Aliens are jDreferred to them; 
 and in some sections they are iDrohibited from laboring 
 for the common necessaries of life. It seems to me that 
 our good friend Alfred, here, has devised a better and 
 more humane government. Would it not be better to 
 recommit America to such a government? 
 
 "Lincoln, at your request, and the urgent prayers of 
 many of your people, a new birth w^as given them at 
 Appomattox. Here their prayers centered around a 
 single hope, that your happy conception of government 
 should survive. The slave, the serf and the menial have 
 no place in the idea 'a government of, for and by the 
 people.' This assertion, a sublime definition of a demo- 
 cratic form of government, makes a clean sweejD of it. 
 The way must be open, free and clear for the ascension 
 
80 
 
 SKETCHES FKOM LIFE IN DIXIE. 
 
 of all alike. I do not mean all men are born into the 
 world equal in intellectual, physical and moral strength; 
 neither do I agree with the absurd idea that the color of 
 a man's skin should tilt the scales in favor of his in- 
 telligence and morality. To my mind nothing is further 
 from the truth. 
 
 "The violet and the rose are by no means the same; 
 the delicate fineness of their beauty is graded; and he is 
 a cunning chemist indeed who discovers which of the 
 two has the sweeter essence. They both spring from 
 the same earth, different in their natures, it is true, but 
 equal in their opportunities to blow a perfect violet and 
 a perfect rose. They are agreeable neighbors in the 
 same soil; enjoying the same air, sunshine and showers, 
 they are happy in the beneficence of the Grod of the 
 flowers. Shall man expect less of the Prince of Love, 
 Who commands us to consider the lilies of the field and 
 the fall of the sparrows? And yet the church proscribes 
 its members. Governments, civil and ecclesiastical, 
 ought to conform to the will of God, Who delegates to 
 them their powers. 
 
 "A government which will not protect the person and 
 property of its citizens ought not to exist." 
 
 Here her visage grew stern and her mien awful; 
 Washington's fingers clinched his sword; Jefferson be- 
 gan to write resolutions; and Lincoln, fearful of what 
 might follow, began to rise, and, speaking as he rose, 
 said: "I pray your excellency to deal lightly with 
 America, and to remember that government of, for and 
 by the people, shall not perish from the earth!" 
 
 "Oh Lincoln! Lincoln! Lincoln!" she exclaimed, "it 
 is the wish of all that this idea should live forever ex- 
 
SKETCHES FEOM LIFE IN DIXIE. 
 
 81 
 
 emplifiecl in the happiness of a united and prosperous 
 people, but — " 
 
 Here there was a considerable commotion in the 
 august assembly. Some one cried from under the 
 throne: "I give my heart and hand to this vote." 
 Patrick Henry thrust his head from behind the judg- 
 ment seat and cried, "Give me liberty or give me death!" 
 Jefferson Davis came scrambling from behind the 
 tombs with the statue of liberty under his arm; and 
 Douglass, the grand old man, continued his battle for 
 the oppressed. 
 
 While he was addressing Themis I heard the steps 
 of many persons, and looking up beheld Vulcan and his 
 associates approaching her. They compassed her and 
 began to address her thus: "May it please your ex- 
 cellency, we understand you will preside at the next 
 session of our court, and have come seeking an inter- 
 view with you, and an understanding about a matter 
 which may come before you for adjustment." 
 
 At this Themis became indignant and cried out: 
 "Hold, Vulcan, hold! I have heard of you and yours 
 It is not the business of judges to hear causes in secret; 
 nor to acquaint themselves with facts in any case be- 
 fore it comes on for regular hearing. Courts are sacred 
 things, and in their impartial judgment rests the safety 
 of all the people. When once the courts of the land 
 recognize favorites and yield clandestinely to the argu- 
 ments of criminals, the security of life, person and prop 
 erty is swept away, and no man is safe. It is the busi- 
 ness of judges to adjudicate the laws, not to make, warp 
 nor twist them to suit the exigencies of the classes. I 
 cannot entertain you now, gentlemen; but if you will 
 meet me in the court room, I shall be pleased to listen 
 
82 
 
 SKETCHES FEOM LIFE IN DIXIE. 
 
 to any extenuating circumstances you may have to offer." 
 
 During these remarks Avarice seized her horn of 
 plenty, Prejudice her golden scales, and Hate tore away 
 her imperial robes. There was riot in the imperial 
 chamber. Themis resorted to violence rather than argu- 
 ment in defense of her person; but to no purpose; the 
 conspirators laid violent hands upon her, and dragged 
 her away to the palace of Prejudice, the grandeur of 
 which has been described before. Here they bound her 
 with the chains of Flattery, and placed Prejudice on 
 guard at the door. She was now at the mercy of Pre- 
 judice, and, lying still bound, he outraged her; where- 
 upon, in due time, she conceived and brought forth that 
 hydra, Judge Lynch. 
 
SKETCHES .FEOM LIEE IX DIXIE 
 
 BIOGRAPHIA. 
 
 I SAW sweep out of rlie iiiiknowii 
 A worthy sunlit Ijark. alone. 
 By eddies dallied and then thrown 
 Down with Life's stream. 
 
 And on its frail thouadi radiant prow. 
 "Consio-ned to the unknown art thou."" 
 Was stamped by Him, AVho then, as now. 
 Directs the end, 
 
 There went with it a beiny- of hope — 
 A radiant beinu' of ho^^e, 
 An ethereal philanthrope. 
 Somewhat divine, 
 
 She steered the craft hard by the shore — 
 I heard the stroke of her u'olden oar. 
 The silver thread of the streamlet o"er 
 Throwing the spray. 
 
 Her carg-o was of jewels rare. 
 All luminous, splendid and fair: 
 The ensio-n of a prince was there 
 Undoulitedly. 
 
 Methinks I saw his armor there, 
 Brilliantly g-rand. superb and rare. 
 Whose shield was beaming' ev"rywhere, 
 Like a coronet. 
 
SKETCHES FEOM LIFE IN DIXIE. 
 
 And through the hehnet of his robe 
 Two luminous orbs lit his abode, 
 And like the fixed stars brightly glowed 
 Continuously. 
 
 And near this dazzling light appears 
 A blazing meteor beneath the spheres, 
 Expression's guide of joy and fears 
 Incased in pearl. 
 
 This pearly armament's support 
 Is cunningly built, a coral fort 
 Compassed with ruby fleets, which float 
 'Round there for aye. 
 
 And when its florid portals oped. 
 The cadence of the prince awoke 
 The music Mother Eve evoked 
 In Paradise. 
 
 Then the stream, grand, masterly stream, 
 Moved swiftly, silent and serene. 
 The bark and its fair guide between, 
 To run the falls. 
 
 But still she, with her skillful hand, 
 E'er taught the tottering craft to stand 
 The strain and shock of the rocky strand 
 Which lies below. 
 
 Where the stream runs its merry race 
 Of rapid, smooth and subtile grace. 
 The craft leaped o'er the falls, to face 
 The surge and whirl. 
 
SKETCHES FEOM LIFE IX DIXIE 
 
 85 
 
 Of the deep, the 2:rand and awful wave, 
 Where the frothy waters toil and rave 
 On in their course, as they eno-rave 
 
 Their history. ' ^ 
 
 And bickers on by sunlit hills. 
 Where Vanity Fair the passion fills. 
 And pomxDous pride in the breast instills 
 A new desire. 
 
 Then out, and 'round the slijDXDery curve 
 Where bold Maturity's heio'hts subserve 
 The channel to deepen, and to swerve 
 Its rapid tiiuht. 
 
 Then down the ruu'u-ed precipice. 
 Through the whirling' pools of Error's bliss, 
 Where the troubled waters seethe and hiss 
 A flood of tears. 
 
 Here, where youth's border land appears. 
 The gallant oarsman drops his fears. 
 And, king-like, o'er the floods he rears 
 His stately head. 
 
 Then through green fields and sunny climes, 
 Where Cupid's violin strikes the chimes 
 Of melody's tunes and happy rhymes. 
 The river runs. 
 
 Till o'er its purling waters came 
 The splash of golden oars again. - . 
 
 Dashing the sih'er spray like rain 
 From Cupid's prow. 
 
SKETCHES FROM LIFE IN DIXIE. 
 
 Where Evylin sat, an angel bright, 
 A fair, celestial angel bright. 
 Guiding another bark of light 
 Through Love's domain; 
 
 Where moon, and stars, and earth, and air 
 Seemed covered with the mystic snare. 
 Which Cupid throws to catch the fair 
 Angelic thing. 
 
 As she sweeps down the silver stream 
 Beneath the glow of beauty's beam, 
 W^ith hope's, and love's, and fancy's gleam 
 Of wild delight. 
 
 Steering for that semi-paradise. 
 To the land where experience lies. 
 Where truth and wisdom harmonize 
 Youth's fervent fires. 
 
 Here many a green isle appears. 
 Along the stream, where the sunny years, 
 Of conjugal life devoutly wears 
 Contentment's crown. 
 
 Till the stream impetuous grows, 
 And pride, deceitful pride, blows 
 His clarion horn and goes 
 About the sails. 
 
 Of ev'ry ship which daily files, 
 Adown the stream by the sunny isles; 
 Where with them all fame flies and smiles 
 Bewitchingly. 
 
SKETCHES FEOM LIFE IX DIXIE. 
 
 Just flies and smiles: beu'uiles and tries 
 To lead all "neatli the sunny skies, 
 With windy inconsistencies 
 Otf" tht^ Isles of Peace. 
 
 Till Ambition comes, an oarsman dark. 
 A stern, deceptive oarsman dark. 
 And takes possession of the bark. ■ 
 And rows blindly on. 
 
 Where all the floods become untied 
 And pour their torrents far and wide. 
 From mountain side to mountain side, 
 Througdi the dismal swamp. 
 
 Aml^ition's meed, dark discontent, 
 And Fame's worthless emolument, . 
 JSo often pledged, but seldom sent, 
 Till this good day. 
 
 Till the sx^lendor of the old bark's glow. 
 Which all well knew in that long ago, 
 Is storm-driven so till we scarce know 
 What 'tis or does. 
 
 But I saw it with the billows toil. 
 When the turl^ulent stream's rough turmoil 
 Did its fair prospects taunt and foil. 
 And roll grumbling on. 
 
 Through bold tornadoes it had gone; 
 I saw the rent where Calumny's storm, 
 Swept through the sails and then hissed on 
 Relentlessly. - 
 
SKETCHES FROM LIFE IN DIXIE. 
 
 But the bark was a kingly one, 
 It weathered the storms; I saw it run 
 Grappling with the stream and overcome 
 The vicious winds 
 
 That stormed along the malignant strand, 
 Just where looms up the goodly land 
 Of Fame's domain and Fancy's grand 
 Expectantcy. 
 
 Again, I saw it sail, and sail. 
 Proud and defiant with the gale. 
 With hope, iron will, and nerves of mail 
 Combatting the fates. 
 
 Where the stream runs purling swift and strong 
 In its murmuring, liquid song- 
 Breaking hope, and will, and nerves along 
 The cataract. 
 
 And still the craft sped with the wave. 
 On the crest of the billows laved. 
 Nor heeded the omnivorous grave 
 That yawned below 
 
 Where the river bold grew deep and wide; 
 Till it so placidly seemed to glide. 
 That its deceptive waves belied 
 Its rapid flight. 
 
 To the grand and deep qld ocean wide, 
 Rolling in all its majestic pride, 
 Until the crest of its hoar tide 
 The river met. 
 
SKETCHES FEOM LIFE IX DIXIE. 
 
 89 
 
 There it eddied as if it would be still. 
 And the oarsman, infirm and ill. 
 Furled his sails, surrendered his will. 
 And crossed his oars. 
 
 For that ruby bulwark, strong and bold, 
 And those luminous orbs — now cold — 
 Swing to and fro, a ruin old. 
 
 Sacked at last by Time. • ' . 
 
 Who stands Death's oceanic mien! 
 However mute the winds, bright the sheen, 
 Or xDeacefully lulled the marine 
 Which decoys him? 
 
 And if the zephyrs do play low, 
 Light, soft and smooth the deep sea o"er 
 They but waft the bark and its cargo 
 Into port. 
 
 Dixie-7 
 
SKETCHES FROM LIFE IN DIXIE. 
 
 AFTERWARD. 
 
 I'M all alone in the world, now, 
 My bonnie love has flown; 
 My heart's an empty void, now. 
 Where the wreck of joy is strown 
 For o'er her grave, the tombs between. 
 The grass is growing green. 
 
 I'm sad tonight! I did not know 
 
 How dear she was to me; 
 How fervent was her passion's glow. 
 
 Her love's sincerity; 
 Till o'er her grave, the tombs between, 
 The grass was growing green. 
 
 I would I could see her face again. 
 That furrowed face of care, 
 
 That I might woo away the pain 
 My coldness chiseled there; 
 
 And lie for her the tombs between. 
 
 Where the grass is growing green. 
 
 I somehow feel, since she has gone. 
 
 That negligence is crime: 
 That I am guilty of this wrong 
 
 To my eyelids brings the brine: 
 Since she lies cold the tombs between, 
 Where the grass is growing green. 
 
SKETCHES FEOM LIFE IX DIXIE. 
 
 AGFS REJOINDER. 
 
 1 WOULD not live always: 
 I ask but to stay" 
 In this vain world of shadows 
 Just another day; 
 By that other day I mean 
 
 Three score years and ten, 
 Then, perhaps, 1*11 take my leave 
 Willingly, of men. 
 
 Yet, if it suits my Lord 
 
 To lengthen the thread 
 That tethers me to earth's shores, 
 
 A few more years instead, 
 Contentedly Idl plod on — 
 
 With my crutch and cane 
 Bear the weight of four score years, 
 
 And not complain. 
 
 Live always? Of course not! 
 
 But I'd like to see 
 My span of years reeling down 
 
 To the century. 
 "What about my absent friends, 
 
 And rheumatic foe?*' 
 I'll forget those, this endure, 
 
 A year and a day more. 
 
92 
 
 SKETCHES FEOM LIFE IN DIXIE 
 
 LOCOMOTION ON CORKS. 
 
 THINGS are not always what they seem. You walk 
 along our streets and look up at massive structures 
 of wood, brick and stone, where beauty has been 
 left by the hand of educated and skilled labor. You 
 stop to admire; and sweet strains of music float down 
 from them on perfumed air, which sweeps playfully 
 through flower gardens hard by. 
 
 This deceives you, and you imagine the occupants of 
 those immense piles live and move in Elysian fields of 
 happiness and ease. Let me undeceive you; that music 
 is, indeed, from the children of the rich; but they are 
 bidding adieu to the pleasures of youth unawares. They, 
 like their parents and you, shall soon be treading the 
 treacherous ways of life, and find at last that the calami- 
 ties of the mansion and hut are almost identical: the 
 owners of each are struggling for existence in their own 
 little spheres. 
 
 Most of us are pursuing phantoms where the bland- 
 ishments of life allure. 
 
 As man ascends toward the altitude of earthly great- 
 ness, his desires multiply. He is never satisfied. His 
 life is a i3rolific source of trouble, and his end a shadow 
 over which memory hovers a moment and then deserts 
 him forever. The rich find it hard to locate the gates 
 of Heaven, — that is, to find happiness. All they get 
 from the inventory of fortune is what they eat, drink 
 and wear, the feast of their eyes and the worry of their 
 souls. The poor are miserable because they would be 
 as the rich. 
 
SKETCHES FEOM LIFE IX DIXIE. 
 
 98 
 
 The contention of all is not the needs of Economy: 
 Init the demands of Extravau-ance. T\'e exhanst our- 
 selves in the pursuit of a phantom, and seek repose on 
 a bed of roses, unmindful of the fact that the thorns art^ 
 there. These are the thoughts which came to me. as I 
 sat brooding ovt-r the history of lit^r lost leg. 
 
 You would hear no more of these vague and indefinite 
 thouoiits: but the story of Locomotion on Corks".' Well, 
 here it is: . • 
 
 Some years ago I was traveling over the Louisville. 
 Xew Orleans and Texas Eailrrjad. I think it was 
 December 24th. 1^^9, "\A'e boarded the cars at a little 
 station some miles out from G-reenville. Mississippi. As 
 well as I can rememlier the place is named Burdett. 
 
 Several jjersons entered the cars at this place, among 
 them a gentleman with a pig in a bag. What I saw 
 aboard this train is among my vivid recollections. That 
 man was like the pig he carried — a hog pure and sim^Dle. 
 Among the other passengers of this car was a young- 
 lady of au-reealde manners and rare beauty. Behind her 
 sat an elderly lady, who had a pair of ganders with their 
 long necks stickinu' throuodi holes in a bag: and in front 
 of her sat a man who was the hapx:iy (jwner of a l:)race of 
 coon dogs The dogs were chained together, and lay 
 partly in the aisle of the car and partly under the seat. 
 Further down the aisle two or three fellows, who had 
 seen the saloons of Greenville, wt^re standinu". or rather 
 trying to keep their equilibrium on the nov- moving- 
 cars. These youno- men were jovial and full of life. 
 They seemed to lie out on an excursion of pleasure. 
 For that matter, hciwt^ver. no cme who partakes of the en- 
 chantments of thebeautif ul little eitycan well do otherwise. 
 
94 
 
 SKETCHES FROM LIFE IN DIXIE. 
 
 Fashionable jDlaces are its saloons, and for convivial 
 refreshments there is none better. 
 
 "Miss, can I sit by you?" growled the man with the 
 pig; and without waiting for an answer he dropped into 
 the seat beside her. All were now seated but our con- 
 vivial friends, and they were trying to keep their bodies 
 erect ; in this vain effort one of them stepped upon the dogs 
 in the aisle and they yelped of distress and frightened 
 the pig, which made its presence felt by rapid grunting; 
 this disturbed the ganders, and they reached out their 
 long necks and pecked alternately at pig and dogs. 
 
 The young lady, being of a nervous disposition, 
 naturally grew alarmed. She appealed to the conductor 
 for aid; but he was busy collecting tickets and passed 
 into the car beyond. Whereupon the man with the pig 
 said, "Keep quiet thar, Miss, or I'se gwine to hurt som' 
 un. Stop kicken dat ar ijig. I'se gitting mighty tired 
 ob dis here thing; 'deed I is. Wheneber I gits on dis 
 here cyar, some un ob you high fliers comes along and 
 "sturbs me. You'se so awfully nice dat a man can't git 
 on board de cyars wid his property, but dat you is cur- 
 lin' your lips in scorn. Dis thing am got to stop, do 
 you hear?" 
 
 This fell like melted metal on the nerves of the 
 young lady. She grew frantic and cried aloud, "Will 
 not some one rid me of this fiend?'* And in trying to 
 escaj^e she fell across a seat and sprained her arm. 
 
 One of the convivial gentlemen went to her assis- 
 tance, aided her to a seat, and tried to console her; and, 
 between his little hiccoughs, succeeded fairly well-. His 
 companions did not do so well with the old man with 
 the pig. Their efforts to quiet him failed. Then they 
 
SKETCHES FKOM LIFE IN DIXIE. 
 
 95 
 
 (Irag-ged him to the aisle, and began to flog him immer- 
 cifuiiy. 
 
 The confusion grew, the pig squealed, the dogs 
 barked and the geese cackled. About this time the 
 whistle blew, the bell rang, and the porter thrust his 
 head into the car and cried out. "Ar-co-la! All out for 
 Areola." The train stopped and people began to crowd 
 into the car. Among them were the othcers of the law. 
 They soon relieved us of the confusion, menagerie and 
 all. ^ 
 
 As they led the old man from the car, it became 
 evident that he. too. had seen the saloons of Greenville: 
 for he began to spew, and to swagger around distress- 
 ingly. 
 
 After some moments the ponderous wheels of the 
 powerful machine rolled over, the bell rang, the steam 
 sizzed and we moved out. Avith the lights of Areola 
 flickering behind us. 
 
 Then the old woman, who we thought had left the 
 car at Areola, came scrambling from under the seats. 
 She looked around for her geese, but the birds were no- 
 where to be found. They had taken the wings of the 
 evening and flown to parts unknown. She felt her loss 
 keenly. Then I learned the true value of a Christmas 
 dinner, and the confusion its loss can ijroduce. The old 
 lady, thinking of the toothsome viands of tomorrow, ex- 
 claimed. "Oh! I have lost my Christmas dinner! What 
 will the children do?" She ran toward the door, fell, 
 and broke her leg. She was left at the next station, 
 where she was properly cared for. We then rattled 
 along the rail without further trouble. 
 
 Some weeks later I was summoned to court to testify 
 against the railroad company, in favor of an old lady, in 
 
96 
 
 SKETCHES FROM LIFE IN DIXIE 
 
 a suit for ten thousand dollars — -damage sustained by 
 her in her vain pursuit of a pair of ganders. 
 
 It is astonishing to what enormous proportions a little 
 incident like the breaking of an old lady's leg, by mere 
 accident, to which her own indiscretion had altogether 
 contributed, can be expanded, under the creative genius 
 of a shrewd lawyer. 
 
 I confess that after I heard the lawyers describe 
 that scene, upon the testimony I had myself given, and 
 which I thought would have exonerated the company, I 
 believed the company guilty of extreme negligence. So 
 convinced was I of the negligence of the company, that 
 I actually apologized to her lawyers for not being more 
 pronounced in my statement in her favor; notwithstand- 
 ing the fact that I knew at the time of my testimony, 
 and I know now, that the company was guilty of no neg- 
 ligence in this case. 
 
 The jury returned a verdict in favor of the old lady. 
 The case was appealed, and vibrated between the courts 
 for many terms, till she got tired of her crutch, and com- 
 promised for attorney's fees and a light, artistic wood- 
 en leg. To sum up the whole matter, her attorneys re- 
 ceived two thousand dollars, I received fifty dollars' 
 Avorth of witness certificates, which I have never been 
 able to collect; and the old lady received an artificial leg. 
 
 -She took her leg and departed. I thought no. more 
 about her for a long time; but one day, as I sat in my 
 office during one of those melancholy depressions which 
 will come to most of us, she flashed linto my mind; and 
 I could not put from me the scenes I have narrated 
 here: when suddenly there was a great noise and com- 
 motion in the streets below. I ran to the window and 
 looked out. Men, women and children were running 
 
SKETCHES FKOM LIFE IX DIXIE. 
 
 97 
 
 about the streets in the wildest confusion. The news- 
 boys were runnino- to and fro the crowded streets, yell- 
 ino- at the top of their voices. "Here's yonr daily even- 
 ing Chronicle. Extra! All about yellow fever in the 
 city!"' My lingers buried their nails into the palms of 
 my hands, and my hair stood tiptoeing on my head; in- 
 voluntarily I exclaimed. "The pestilence!" and sat down. 
 Then there came a message from my wife urging me to 
 take her out of the city, to which I gave my hearty con- 
 sent. I then called on the ticket agent and found out at 
 what time the next train would leave for Chicago. The 
 agent answered promptly. "At three fifteen P. M.: and 
 all trains will stop at Newman's Switch, two miles north 
 of the city." After purchasing our tickets I hired a cab 
 and sent after my wife: with instructions for her to meet 
 me at Newman's Switch, at three o'clock. I then nailed 
 down my windows, locked my doors and with my valu- 
 able papers under my arm. I walked across the street to 
 my banker, deposited them and drew a check for five 
 hundred dollars. It was now forty-five minutes after 
 two. I mounted my wheel and rode leisurely down 
 Main Street, until I reached Railroad Avenue. Here I 
 met the cab-man. who told me that my wife was at 
 Newman's Switch waiting for me. After leaving him I 
 hurried o& for the Switch. Now if there is anything on 
 earth at which I am proficient, it is in riding a bicycle. 
 I leaned forward, applied my strength and moved along 
 the avenue like a winged thing. 
 
 About a mile out from the city I saw a female figure, 
 afoot, turn into the high road, reach down and gather ui3 
 her skirts and strike boldly out for the Switch, about a 
 quarter of a mile distant. I undertook to catch her: a 
 little more pressure on the pedals and a deeioer curve in 
 
98 
 
 SKETCHES FROM LIFE IN DIXIE. 
 
 my spine and the city dropped behind me like the fall of 
 a detached kite; but the lady bounded along ahead of 
 me like a spirit. A moment more, however, and I over- 
 took her. I slowed up a little, raised my hat, and was 
 passing in triumph, when I struck a sharp instrument 
 in the road and punctured my wheel; I dismounted and 
 she passed me. 
 
 We were now not more than three hundred yards 
 away from the Switch. I threw the bicycle across my 
 shoulder, and started out after that woman again. Her 
 speed seemed supernatural. I overtook her only when 
 she politely asked some one at the station "if the train 
 was on time?" 
 
 Then she turned to me and said, "Mr. Roland, I am 
 glad to see you. How have you been getting along 
 since last we met?" 
 
 Imagine my great surprise to find in her the old 
 lady with the cork leg. 
 
SKETCHES FEOM LIFE IN DIXIE 
 
 99 
 
 LINES TO MR. 
 
 FRIEXD. must we x^art and part f(jrever? 
 The spell that bound our hearts is broke — 
 Did I say • "friend* Excuse me.- d^rother: 
 I would the word I'd never spoke. 
 
 And brother, too. I should forg-et. 
 
 Since you the sacred tie would spurn 
 T" indulg-e the passions which have met 
 
 "Round our friendship's liroken urn. 
 
 And yet it's hard and passinci' strange 
 That one brief hour should sever us: 
 
 And that a broken pledge should change 
 Hearts for a thing so odious. 
 
 But I had learned to trust you so — 
 Thought you so far above mankind. 
 
 So noble, and so true — when, lol 
 Deception's wand strikes you blind. 
 
 Blind to all that we used to be. 
 
 Blind to all that we ought to be, 
 Blind still to yourself and me — 
 
 Blind even to vile treachery. 
 
 But should fortune e'er desert yon. 
 
 Fate mark for you a rugged lot. 
 For what you ought to be I'll serve you, 
 
 And of your treachery think not. - - 
 
100 
 
 SKETCHES FEOM LIFE IN DIXIE. 
 
 STRIKE FOR EQUAL RIGHTS. 
 
 THINK of the price of liberty, 
 Think of the lash and slavery, 
 Of lynch rule and its massacre 
 And strike for equal rights. 
 
 Say, must we longer trust the law, 
 Class-enacted to hide the flaw 
 Of the crimson hand that strikes to awe 
 And terrorize us into slaves? 
 
 Let him who trembles or has fears. 
 When the cowardly mob appears, 
 Receive a coward's meed and tears. 
 Death and a piece of hemp. 
 
 Where the American who would be 
 A renegade to liberty; 
 Because of fear would turn and flee. 
 When duty calls him here. 
 
 He should be yoked and bound for aye, 
 As long as night succeeds the day — 
 For liberty can only stay, 
 The meed of valiant men. 
 
 He who fears not the mob's alarm: 
 To him who would the traitors storm, 
 And fell them with a valiant arm. 
 Behold a freeman's meed! 
 
;ketches feom life ix dixie. 
 
 Come the valiant, and come the brave, 
 Come all except the ahject slave- 
 Let him fall in a loondnian's Li'rave — 
 And strike for liberty I 
 
 Come all the law al:)idino\ come. 
 Where'er throuo-hoiit the earth yon roam. 
 And strike for native land and home, 
 For God and sacred life. 
 
 WHILE THE WALTZ IS ON. 
 
 ■RE the banquet's ovfr. love, 
 
 Before the o-arlands wither, love. 
 
 While the waltz is on. 
 Whisper softly in my ear 
 Love's melody, my dear. -. 
 
 While the waltz is on. my dear, 
 
 And the music's roll 
 Echoes throu^di the hall so clear. 
 
 So happy makes the soul. 
 As we reel and turn and whirl 
 Say yes. my bonny ^irl. 
 
 Ere the dance is done, sweetheart. 
 
 Before the music dies. 
 Make me g-lacl. before we part. 
 
 Comx^lete my paradise; 
 Just before the music's .eone. 
 And while the waltz is on, 
 
 And the stars are gone: 
 
SKETCHES FROM LIFE IN DIXIE 
 
 THE MUSIC OF THE RAIN. 
 pVHERE'S music in tlie rain, 
 
 I And its monotonous tap, tap 
 
 Beats on the window pane; 
 Or murmuring it stops 
 
 A moment on the dripping eaves. 
 
 There's music in the rain 
 When it falls the leaves among, 
 And spatters in the viney nooks 
 And sparkles on the grain; 
 All earth has found a tongue, 
 And its loud hallelujahs ring. 
 
 Oh! the music of the rain. 
 See it comes pouring down, 
 
 Bright and joyous o'er field and plain, 
 While its golden currents drain 
 The smooth and verdured lawn, 
 
 And then run bickering to the main. 
 
 There's music in the rain. 
 When all the winds arise. 
 
 And livid lightning marks the path 
 Of the dread hurricane; 
 While in the clouded skies 
 
 Old thunder beats the martial airs. 
 
 As on the roof it drops. 
 
 There's music in the rain 
 
SKETCHES FEOM LIFE IN DIXIE 
 
 103 
 
 When all the winds are still, 
 
 When lightning's flash and thunder's roll 
 Are stilled and mute again; 
 And you feel the heart's thrill 
 
 When the storm cloud goes racking by. 
 
 There's music in the rain 
 
 When the clouds are clearing off, 
 
 And sunny beams come struggling through 
 The silver of the rain, 
 
 W^here hope's arch stands alof ' 
 In the reflux of the storms. 
 
 IDA. 
 
 8 
 
 HE is a woman, bright and trim. 
 Of five and twenty years, 
 Who trips along with pleasure 
 And spends her smiles for tear's. 
 
 Her hair retains its raven hue, 
 Her sparkling eye its fire; 
 
 But her heart is sad, discordant. 
 A strung, but tuneless lyre. 
 
 For she staked her all on conquest 
 
 Of the voluptuous host. 
 With society's devotees 
 
 Bet high, played long and lost. 
 
 She's wiser now than yesterday, 
 At last she spurns the dream 
 
 That women were made for pleasure, 
 And men are what thev seem. 
 
104 
 
 SKETCHES FROM LIFE IN DIXIE. 
 
 , NUPTIAL TIES. 
 
 1HAVE my depressions. I suppose you have yours? 
 In short, my clear reader, they are the common 
 possession of man-kind. Activity is the soul of 
 depression. Who can escape the peculiar sensation 
 bundled up in the afterthought? The thing grows on 
 you, or rather on me, in this way. 
 
 You go out in the morning, full of hope, vigor and 
 courage; you i3ush your business till success bubbles up 
 around you like an artesian well; you look up and see 
 Fame sitting on the rim of the clouds, tooting a horn, 
 and looking down; you see Popularity elbowing your 
 vanished rival from the crowded thoroughfare; the day 
 is done, and the victory won. 
 
 Now you make your way home through the cheering 
 crowds, and slip in through the back gate, to avoid the 
 pressing thousands who stand around eager to doff their 
 hats to the victor. You reach your inner chamber, pull 
 off your gloves, your hat and great coat; thrust your feet 
 into soft slippers and begin to thaw your fingers; when 
 suddenly the afterthought comes home. You have for- 
 gotten your friends. You rush to the window to ac- 
 knowledge your thanks — the applauding millions are no 
 more — they are gone. 
 
 Now you know how the other fellow felt, and feels, 
 because their paeans of joy make the night hidious with 
 his praise. Ah me! the i30ssession of fame is so uncer- 
 tain that a man cannot stop to warm his fingers, how- 
 ever much they freeze. 
 
 Oh, yes! I remember: you asked me about Nuptials; 
 
SKETCHES FEOM LIEE IN DIXIE. 
 
 105 
 
 and I have gone off on depressions, But yon know that 
 is ever the resnlt of nnx^tials, They always resolve them- 
 Sflves into dei^ressions. 
 
 Before I begin the discourse. I wish to say that I am 
 a liachelor of seventy serene snmmers. Summers serene, 
 hecanse they are things of the past. 
 
 Since the day of my first love affair. I have refrained 
 from thono'hts of this nature, that I mio'ht escape the 
 memory- of so blank a failure. 
 
 I blush as I confess to you my io-norance of wedded 
 life, and the necessary requisites for|a hax3py home, How- 
 ever, for such a condition. I think this a crood receipt: 
 labor, confidence, fortitude, economy, thrift and love, 
 mixed with content, and taken in the order named. 
 
 "Who are proper x^ersons to bear the burden of mar- 
 ried life":" To this I answer: all XDersons who are over 
 the age of twenty-one years, soimd in body and mind, 
 economic by nature, and in full control of their tem^Ders 
 and tonorues. This, however, is but a mere sug2"estion, 
 I cannot x^ersuade myself to say more, because I am 
 aware that seventy yt-ars of celebacy unfit one for judg- 
 ment in such matters. I can do but this: relate my ob- 
 seiwation. Listen, and I will tell you what I caueht in 
 passing. 
 
 Cienerally. x)eox3le are careless about whom they marry : 
 and more careless aloout what they should do with them- 
 selves after the honeymoon. Long after that delia-htful 
 period has bet*n transferred to the column of vain re- 
 grets. I have heard many sadly solilocjuizina- on "what 
 might have been." 
 
 To illustrate: one is naturally cax^tivated by a fair 
 face, raven hair, dark eyes. bewLtchincr features, a beauti- 
 fully taxDeiing and roimded form, a few frills, fioimces. 
 
 Dixie— S 
 
106 
 
 SKETCHES FROM LIFE IN DIXIE. 
 
 furbelows, and other things which dazzle, and proposes, 
 is accepted and strikes a bad bargain for life. 
 
 Beware of beautiful women; they make poor wives 
 and worse mothers. There are few exceptions to this 
 rule ; especially is this the case when they worship at the 
 shrine of fashion, with "Society" as the goddess. 
 
 A collegiate education, vast and varied accomplish- 
 ments in music, decorative art, and the sciences, have 
 some points in their favor ; but she who has an academic 
 training, is a tidy housekeeper and a good cook, is far more 
 preferable; and if you can find, added to these qualities, 
 a soft temper, chastity and frugality, you have found a 
 jewel whose value cannot be estimated. 
 
 I have such a woman in my mind's eye; she pre- 
 sided over the home of my friend Coatland years ago. 
 His was a home of happiness, comfort and ease. I do 
 not mean that he had a palatial dwelling, broad and fer- 
 tile acres, fine horses carriages and princely companions, 
 endless treasures and such things; for in such a home 
 happiness is rarely, if ever, found. 
 
 Out on the high road that leads from Greorge Town, 
 
 a suburb of V , there stands a small old fashioned 
 
 log cabin; modernized, it is true, by a new brick chimney, 
 a few glass windows and a front gallery. In all other 
 respects it is the same today as when I first knew it fifty 
 years ago. There the green lawn slopes down to the 
 road; and there still are the white-washed walls, fences, 
 stables, cribs and other houses, as bright and cheerful as 
 lime and brush can make them. 
 
 At the east window the sunbeams struggle through 
 sweet-scented honeysuckles into the room beyond,where 
 for fifty years, Ruth met the morning, with brush, broom 
 and tidiness, polishing her walls, floors and furniture; 
 
SKETCHES EEOM LIFE IX DIXIE. 
 
 107 
 
 kneading her bread and doing a thousand other things 
 common to housekee23ing. In her well kept garden the 
 lilac, cape jasimine, cherry pies, roses and other flowers 
 kept the place perfumed. 
 
 Her husband found in her a companion, wife and 
 friend who was sincere in her affecti@ns. She loved him 
 and found that sentiment returned a thousand fold. They 
 were industrious and frugal — happy in their ignorance 
 of the stock exchange, where fortunes are made and lost 
 in a day. 
 
 All things earthly must fail: the good prematurely. 
 My friends enjoy their reward. It is impossible to de- 
 scribe the death of the supremely good: that is. those to 
 whom Ciod imx3uteth ris:hteousness. They meet their 
 end in peace with their fellows: and. with the approval 
 of their God, they pass away in a halo of glory. Peace 
 be to their ashes! 
 
 On their death bed they handed me their will. It 
 reads as follows: 
 
 To irJiom it may concern: This is our last will and testament. 
 Our spirits we commend to our Maker, God, who g-ave them, All 
 our earthly goods and property of every kind and nature, we give 
 to our two sons, Carl and Eugene, in equal parts, except a small 
 donation we have given to our old friend, George Leland, who is 
 made the executor of this, our last will without bond. 
 
 In testimony whereof we hereto affix our signatures this the 
 10th day of March, 1S80. Thomas Coatland, [seal] 
 
 Ruth Coatlaxd. [seal] 
 
 Among their papers I found a letter addressed to me, 
 in which were placed my instructions and one thousand 
 dollars in U. S. bonds, the donation to me, and a letter 
 to Carl and Eugene; which, excepting the introduction, 
 reads as follows: 
 
 "My Dear Children : It is not expected that we, after seventy 
 
108 
 
 SKETCHES FKOM LIFE IN DIXIE 
 
 years of activity in the affairs of life, should survive a great while 
 longer. I wish before I am gone to again impress you with the 
 course in life I think proper for you, 
 
 "Fifty years ago I married Ruth, your mother, during which 
 time we have occupied this little home. Here, aided by thrift, 
 content and economy we have found happiness, comfort and ease. 
 I can wish you no greater felicity than virtuous, frugal and indus- 
 trious wives; and a home such as the one in which you were 
 reared. You do not need a mansion, because it requires a fortune 
 to keep it ; and when it is well kept, the covetousness of your friends 
 and acquaintances is excited. Be careful : he who displays his 
 treasures invites the robber. 
 
 "We leave about twenty thousand dollars, which we believe 
 you will fully appreciate and judiciously invest. This sum, the 
 fruit of our economy, is the savings of many years. Take it, and 
 be admonished thereby that fortunes are not honestly made in a 
 day, nor in many years; but that rigid economy and vigilant in- 
 dustry will relieve you of that terror known to nine-tenths of man- 
 kind — hard times. 
 
 "Beware of debt; he who is in debt is but half a man, and his 
 independ3nce is dethroned. There is no niasterso exacting as the 
 money lender. I do not mean to say that he is a bad man, for 
 that is not always the case. In many respects he is the best of 
 men; especially is this the case when he counts out his cold cash 
 to the unfortunate who goes about borrowing; and not until the 
 day of payment do they reverse themselves. 
 
 "From the day you mortgage your property till the time of the 
 foreclosure of it, there is not a day in which your ability to pay is 
 not becoming less . I cannot explain why it is so; but few men 
 pay off a mortgage. When you have put by a competency sufficient 
 to carry you over those depressions commonly called hard times, 
 you can afford to indulge in those little extravagances which the 
 simple call generosity, but which the want of many a stranded 
 home defines as crime. The temptation to extravagance is great; 
 but you must not yield when that enemy to your peace of mind 
 comes, as come it will. 
 
 "Look upon the poor and miserable of your acquaintance, 
 who go about the streets pawning their raiment for bread, and re- 
 
SKETCHES FROM LIFE IN DIXIE. 
 
 109 
 
 member that nine-tenths of them heeded not the voice of Econ- 
 omy, but followed Extravagance. 
 
 "He who squanders his earnings in the pursuit of pleasure, 
 shall find after the reverie the confusion of its adherents. Spend 
 your nights with your families, your days in honest toil, and you 
 will find old age invested in a halo of ease, for which the nabobs 
 of earth, those whose souls have been singed by the fires of volup- 
 tuousness, would exchange the wealth of the Indies. 
 
 "Be not deceived by the glare of great riches; it may be best 
 for you that you are poor. Like the moths which wreck themselves 
 on your mother's lamp, many a poor fellow has lost his soul in the 
 vain effort to become rich. After all, that scathing satire on the 
 affairs of men, the shroud is the sum total of all our wealth. 
 Riches and happiness are by no means companions ; the one means 
 to its possessor great anxiety, worry, cares, restless evenings and 
 sleepless nights; the other is often found in a hovel, sustained and 
 soothed by the virtues of content. Poverty and riches both have 
 g"reat calamities, when content is absent; then their extremes 
 move together in the mire of distress, and urge their patrons along 
 the common way, to the banquet hall of worms. Envy them not. 
 
 "Be true to your God, you country, yourselves and your friends ; 
 upright and just in your dealings with men; and strive to secure a 
 middle station between poverty and wealth; and remember your 
 father and mother. 
 
 "I am as ever yours devotedly, Thomas Coatland." 
 
 I have given yon my friencVs letter verbatim, because 
 I believe lie is right. That his letter meets your ap- 
 proval I doubt not. It comes nearer answering you than 
 anything of which I could have thought. 
 
 I have seen some of the phases of life myself, although 
 in a different light, and from a different xDoint of view 
 than' my friend's; yet I believe the result the same. 
 
 Unlike my friend, I have followed pleasure where she 
 has been i^leased to lead; under the brilliant glare of the 
 chandelier,where wit, beauty and loveliness moved intox- 
 icated with the volumptuous swell of rare and exquisite 
 music, admired by the timid, courted by the brave, and 
 
110 
 
 SKETCHES FEOM LIFE IN DIXIE. 
 
 won by the gallant. I have been entertained by all that 
 is fair, sweet, brilliant, charming and graceful in women 
 and fraternal in men; in beautifully decorated parlors 
 and rare and brilliant saloons, where wealth, skill and 
 art left the foot prints of the embellisher. In fact, I have 
 tasted every flower in the garden of pleasure, and know 
 of a truth that a man gets very little of this world's 
 goods beyond what he eats, drinks and wears. 
 
 If I had married Evylin in the days of my youth, 
 perhaps she would not have found an early grave, nor I 
 a remorseful old age with Coatland's donation as its only 
 stay. 
 
 This is why, no doubt, my old friend Coatland and his 
 happy home come before me now, as they ever do when 
 I am in a serious humor, for his was the most happy of 
 the few happy homes I remember having seen. And 
 now, after seventy years spent in the pursuit of pleasure, 
 I find myself reverting to those sublime lines of Robert 
 Burns : 
 
 **Still o'er these scenes my memory wakes, 
 
 And fondly broods with miser care, 
 Time but the impression deeper makes. 
 
 As streams their channels deeper wear." 
 
 Yes, if I were you I would marry a good woman, and 
 build a home; for around that hearth where the chastity 
 of woman presides is gathered what little there is of 
 happiness on earth. 
 
 I would build it, not in the city nor too remote from 
 it; but near its suburbs, that I might escape its burden- 
 some taxation, its pestilence, its poverty and its many 
 vices, and secure easy access to its advantage. 
 
SKETCHES FKOM LIFE IN DIXIE. 
 
 THE GOLDEN ROD. 
 
 ,HERE is a calm and solemn air 
 
 By rushing stream, and everywhere 
 
 The sear and yellow leaf^s aglow. 
 
 The foliage is growing old; 
 
 All through the verdure gleams the gold ; 
 
 The rose is turning into mold; 
 
 But golden rod stands everywhere. 
 
 0"er the lea and across the mead. 
 And far away where the cattle feed, 
 There blows the yellow crested reed, 
 The autumnal queen of flowers. 
 
 Its golden crown along the way. 
 Sways back and forth, and seems to say, 
 "I am fair Flora's Queen today. 
 And the wind's my messenger boy. 
 
 "And further on the wind's low wail 
 Proclaims my reign along the dale. 
 Till the tired harvester droj)S his flail 
 And hails me queen of the flowers." 
 
 Along the road, by garden fair. 
 
SKETCHES FKOM LIFE IN DIXIE 
 
 YELLOW JACK OF '97. 
 
 ITH a shudder still I remember 
 
 Of the "Times-Democrat." 
 
 Also the "Daily Picayune" 
 
 Made the dreaded tidings known; 
 
 The paper venders caught the tune 
 And heralded it around the town. 
 
 "Here's your 'Daily Picayune,' " 
 And "Here's your 'Times-Democrat!" 
 
 "Paper, sir, 'Daily Picayune,' 
 All about the Yellow Jack!" 
 
 "At^Ocean Springs and Scranton, sir, 
 
 Biloxi and ev'rywhere 
 Along the coast — 'Picayune,' sir? 
 
 All about the fever there! 
 
 "There 'tis, sir! a catastrophe. 
 
 Strikes our business interest square, 
 
 And leaves us a wreck in mid sea. 
 With fever and despair." 
 
 "If it's fever, it's dengue. 
 
 Or malaria from lack 
 Of cleanliness, in a few 
 Coast towns. It's not Yellow Jack," 
 
 The alarm of Yellow Jack: 
 Sent out in the daily number. 
 
SKETCHES FEOM LIFE IN DIXIE. 
 
 113 
 
 Said all the doctors, looking wise. 
 
 But the restless feeling grew, 
 And all the people, with glaring eyes, - 
 
 And ashen lips, said "It's true!'' 
 
 From the start business stopped, congealed, 
 And strong men gathered the crowd 
 
 About the public streets, to feel 
 The business pulse, sigh aloud; 
 
 And then to troop it out of town : . 
 
 For their fancy paints so well. 
 Until it kinder brings them down, 
 
 To unwholesome views of ( ) Well— 
 
 You understand; roasting scenes in that 
 Sultry country where the swell 
 
 Epidemic fiend, grim Yellow Jack, 
 The conductor acts so well. 
 
 You talk of being panic struck, 
 
 Routed friend and all of that ; 
 You should see the bulletin stuck 
 
 To the alarm of Yellow Jack. 
 
 For yellow fever 'larms from iDress 
 And newsboys, can clear the earth 
 
 With inflated yells of distress 
 
 In twenty minutes without death. 
 
 And then the faithful few, who stand 
 
 At duty's post; because 
 They cannot escape, understand, 
 
 Prohibitory laws. 
 
114 
 
 SKETCHES FROM LIFE IN DIXIE. 
 
 They quarantine the empty void 
 
 With a mailed guard so well, 
 That 'twould terrorize the alloid 
 
 Visage of the host of Hell. 
 
 Then gnaws the formidable thought, 
 Quarantined away from home: 
 
 This experience so dearly bought, 
 So vividly i^aints our own: 
 
 Till we see the ghost of all our hopes 
 Floating down the yellow stream; 
 
 Our empty homes along the copse 
 And grim Yellow Jack between. 
 
 And hear the stroke of the sturdy oar, 
 
 The surge of the awful wave ; 
 As Yellow Jack trips our loved ones o'er — 
 
 The druggist into the grave. 
 
SKETCHES FROM LIFE IX DIXIE 
 
 115 
 
 YOUTH S HOME AND MOTHER. 
 
 DOWN the lono- flig-ht of years, 
 With the fleet sweep of timej 
 Our memory still bears 
 On the one place sublime, 
 Of all that earth holds of joy and of mirth. 
 And that place, friend, is the place of our birth. 
 
 The .Q:ay may dazzle the eye, 
 
 'For a time bricrhtly blaze 
 Then dimly burn and die; 
 
 Then ^tis we fix and gaze 
 On all that earth holds of joy and of mirth, 
 Down the dim vista ways of long ago. 
 
 Friendshij) may fail and fly 
 
 Off by night and our joy. 
 With the breath of morning die: 
 
 Naught be ours but alloy. 
 And all that earth holds of joy and of mirth. 
 Youth's home and mother and her sterling worth 
 
 Deep as is the ocean's brine. 
 
 Love will trace her epitaph, 
 Along the strand of time; 
 
 Where stands the biograph 
 Of all the nation's worth, its cares and mirth 
 In mother's love, and faith, and works, and home. 
 
 These will blaze, l)urn and glow 
 
SKETCHES FROM LIFE IN DIXIE. 
 
 Until the end of time; 
 Till again we meet, and know 
 
 Our parting was sublime! 
 Till we meet and know, where the ransomed 
 Up the endless aisles of paradise. 
 
 INNOCENCE ASLEEP. 
 
 A FAIR dark-eyed lassie was she. 
 Her thirteenth summer passed, 
 Who pursuing blue-eyed daisy. 
 Herself had over- tasked; 
 And fell asleep in the meadow. 
 Where the wildest flowers blow. 
 I read the dreams upon her face. 
 
 Through dimples hi her cheek. 
 And smiles which trace the subtle grace 
 Of innocence asleep. 
 
 "1 was dreaming," she made reply, 
 
 A blush her whole physique. 
 When my kerchief fell upon the fly 
 
 That lit upon her cheek; 
 Hard by the laughing brooklet's sheen 
 Caught the poise of her face between, 
 Demurring pout and sly grimace. 
 
 Through her dishelved hair; 
 
 As she stood there an angel fair 
 With innocence awake. 
 
SKETCHES FROM LIFE IN DIXIE. 
 
 117 
 
 THE RAPE OF THE FLOWERS. 
 
 VAILS, wails, wails. 
 The wind from its ice bound thrones; 
 Along the path it trails, 
 And whistles and roams 
 Across the gray old fields. 
 
 Sweeps, sweeps, sweeps, 
 
 Together the falling leaves, 
 
 And up the hillside leaps 
 
 Through the naked trees; 
 
 There shrieks, and roars, and storms; 
 
 And shakes, shakes, shakes 
 
 His mantle that holds the snows 
 
 Till the mute and silent flake. 
 
 Its purity throws .:- 
 
 O'er all the dreary earth. 
 
 Then drives along the rain, 
 The cold benumbing rain ; 
 Across the dreary xDlain, 
 Blows the hurricane 
 And freezes o'er the snow. 
 
 Till all is hard, cold ice, 
 
 Transparent, luminous ice. 
 
 Whose dumb but stern device 
 
 The rivers entice ^ , 
 
 To stand at last congealed. 
 
118 SKETCHES FROM LIFE IN DIXIE 
 
 Weeping now the angels go, 
 Since Winter's seductive hand 
 Polluted lovely Flo, 
 And his grim command 
 Her nectary fills with ice. 
 
 At the kiss of hoar frost, 
 The radiant angel swooned. 
 Of dire grief died, and lost 
 Her beautiful bloom — 
 Her rare ethereal bloom. 
 
 TO A FLOWER ON A CORPSE. 
 
 aH, thou beautiful embellishment of earth, 
 By dew, and rain, and dutiful spring hurled, 
 A thing of loveliness, into this world 
 Of woe, and discord, and the cruel dearth 
 Tha-^ blights our desires, and turns our hearth 
 
 Into a charnel house; nor king, nor earl, 
 Nor wit, can provoke the sad heart to mirth, 
 
 Where our hopes all end and our colors furl. 
 Fit emblem of man's transient stage art thou; 
 
 This morn beheld thee delightfully fair. 
 Full of fragrance, pleasingly sweet; but now, 
 This eve, thy withered form sleeps on the prow 
 Of that barque grim Death is launching out there, 
 In the omnivorous sea of dispair. 
 
SKETCHES FROM LIFE IN DIXIE 
 
 119 
 
 A MANGLED REFLECTION. 
 
 VHEJ^ my reflection swings back to that delight- 
 ful period known as the honeymoon, I am forced 
 to the painful conclusion that connubial attach- 
 ments are not what they seem. That you may 
 better understand me I wish to enumerate a few phases 
 of my experience. December 24th, 1892, I married Ma- 
 licia Ann Dupont. The grace of her angelic form, and 
 the buoyancy of her noble soul made her the rarest ob- 
 ject of loveliness I ever saw. 
 
 Under the bewitchery of her elegance our honeymoon 
 was prolonged into a full luna year. Then there came a 
 change, and I was left face to face with the stern fact 
 that love begets other things than haiDi3iness. 
 
 About this time there was born unto us a son, and 
 my heart went out to him with all the fervency of par- 
 ental affection. The child grew, and his features took 
 on my likeness; and when he began to i3rattle and call 
 me father, I felt exceedingly manly; especially so when 
 Fancy told me I had a new joy. At this time I prided 
 myself on the high regard I had for the rights of others ; 
 and, true to this trait in my character, I heeded not the 
 growing attachment between my wife and my old college 
 friend, Samuel Michaeljohn. Malicia is of a witty and 
 lively disposition and socially inclined; and I am sedate 
 and somewhat of a melancholy turn of mind ; this is why, 
 I su^Dpose. I spent my evenings at home, while she sought 
 happiness in the halls of pleasure. Up to this time there 
 was not a discordant sound in our Eden of joy. But 
 alas! too soon I found that Joy and Grief both marshal 
 
120 
 
 SKETCHES FKOM LIFE IN DIXIE. 
 
 their strength in the human heart, with only a step be- 
 tween the bivouac of their forces. 
 
 Michaeljohn was staying with us at the time, and 
 used to accompany my wife on her delightful excursions. 
 After this had been going on for a long time, I had a 
 sudden and serious awakening. My imagination, urged 
 on by jealousy, saw strange things in the conduct of my 
 wife and friend. They seemed lost in the mutuality of 
 their attachment. My son, losing his health, became ill, 
 crabbed and colicky. My neighbor's cat prowled about 
 my house and made the evenings hideous with its squal- 
 ling. Decidedly a change set in for the worst, and I 
 was ill at ease. 
 
 "None of these things would have moved you?" 
 
 Ah my friend ! If you think that you are deceived by 
 your own heart. At any rate, I am persuaded that if 
 you knew what I know, you would agree with me that 
 the joys of wedded life are'" casual. 
 
 My troubles reached an acute stage on the night of 
 my awakening. As usual the infatuated couple were at- 
 tending one of their innumerable entertainments ; on this 
 occasion it was a masquerade ball. About eleven o'clock 
 that night the baby had one of its usual attacks of the 
 colic, which was more aggravated than ever before, and 
 would not yield to my efforts to arrest its course, although 
 I used every drug known to domestic medicine. Vein 
 endeavor! the child grew rapidly worse. Alarmed at the 
 progress of his sickness, I went to the telephone and 
 rang hard and strenuously for the family physician. ''He 
 is out. Has been for an hour. Expect him every min- 
 ute. Will send him over as soon as he comes," were the 
 disappointing words which came over the wires. 
 
 Poor, stricken child! Tortured and agonized with 
 
SKETCHES FEOM LIFE IN DIXIE 
 
 121 
 
 the deadly cramp in liis bowels, liis cries appealed im- 
 plorinu-ly to me. With a struck heart and a throbbing 
 brain I raised him again in my arms, and paused a mo- 
 ment, listening to the noise of a footfall on the pavement, 
 vainly hoping it might be the doctor, or the homecoming 
 of Malicia Ann; but it passed, echoing in the silent night. 
 
 Again I began to walk the floor with him, and with 
 my cracked voice tried to warble a lullaby. I thought I 
 had succeeded when a bright smile ran playfully about 
 his mouth, and lit up his countenance with a light I 
 never saw there before. Vain belief! The next moment 
 he turned his glazed eyes up into mine, cried •'Father!'' 
 and fell over on my breast a corpse! The light of my 
 soul was darkened and its joy slain. I laid the corpse on 
 the bed, and with it my heart, and walked out on the 
 back porch to give my grief full scope. There was an 
 emptiness in my bosom, and a great lump in my throat, 
 a burning liquid was scalding my eyes and my mind was 
 wandering: need I tell you that I wept aloud V There 
 was no moon, but every star of the firmament was out; 
 with their infinite l)eings joyous in the felicity of the 
 omnipotent God; while I. poor worm of the dust, 
 was groping in the dark, with baby's last audible 
 sound ringing in my ears. Was it a wail, or an exclam- 
 ation of joy? In quest of this thought my hope mounted 
 upward till faith unbarred the gates of Heaven, and I 
 saw the merciful Christ wiping the tears from baby's 
 eyes; and heard the angels chanting to him the lulla- 
 bies of heaven. My eyes were moist no longer, my soul was 
 relighted, and I felt a sustaining infiuence in my heart 
 from the moment my faith caught hold of Him who 
 doeth all things well. I returned to the silent chamber, 
 and waited for Malicia Ann. 
 
 Dixie-8 
 
122 
 
 SKETCHES FROM LIFE IN DIXIE. 
 
 Sitting there alone my thoughts naturally turned to 
 her; bright, gay and cheerful, pleasure's reign so long 
 absolute in her heart, now to be shattered by the relent- 
 less hand of fate, and remorseless grief enthroned — how 
 should I break the sad intelligence to her? In the midst 
 of my solitude I heard her at the gate, bidding a merry 
 good night to her gay associates. I met her at the door. 
 She was a lovable and playful woman, and, as she always 
 does, she threw her arms around my neck, and hung 
 upon my person looking, in her white robes, like a ser- 
 aphim; and begun to tell me of her enjoyable evening, 
 when the lamp light fell upon my face. Its haggard as- 
 pect appalled her. She recoiled and cried, "O George! 
 what has happened?'' I took her by the hand, with the 
 unrestrained tears coursing down my cheeks, and stam- 
 mered, "Baby's gone!" 
 
 Wild with grief she hurried l)ack to where I had lain 
 him and bent over him with that endearing accent only 
 a mother can utter, said, "Charley !'" and kissed him; but 
 there was no responsive pressure from the lips of cold 
 clay before us. She raised her dark eyes staringly to 
 mine, and with the agony of despair cried, "Give me 
 back my baby!'" pulled her hair, rent her clothing and 
 fell to the floor insane of grief. We helped her to a sofa 
 and ministered to her the best we could; but her grief 
 was of that violent nature which escapes only through 
 the relief of tears, and we could not appease her. 
 
 About four o'clock the next day all that was mortal 
 of our little Charley, was gathered to its long home, and 
 a slab marked its repose. 
 
 The events of a day sometimes change the whole 
 course of our lives, but they never change our characters. 
 It is as imi^ossible to confine a buoyant and lively spirit 
 
SKETCHES FROM LIFE IX DIXIE, 
 
 123 
 
 with crape and mourniiit: as it is to destroy the l)eauty 
 of a suiiheaiii when it disperses itself in a shower of rain. 
 
 We are what we are. in spite of ourselves; and. like 
 the eirclinu' of the seasons throu^ii the succeeding- years, 
 we pass on. guided, perhaps, by the unseen Hand that 
 holds the rivers in their courses and fixes the hounds of 
 the sea. 
 
 Time passed, and we naturally drifted hack into our 
 (jld haVnts. Michaeljohn and Malicia Ann renewed their 
 former relations, and I spent my evening's at home l)rood- 
 ing- over imaginary evils: or in roaming al)out the coun- 
 try mourning the absence of my son: and — I am ashamed 
 t(j say it. ljut it is true— accusing Malicia of his death. 
 How could I do otherwise under the circumstances? 
 
 I remember one bright morning in the spring of a 
 vanished year, I went out for a long walk over the coun- 
 try, The first two or three h(jurs of my journey, 
 were calm, briu'lit and delightful. The yellow 
 rays of the morning sun illumined the earth with a 
 soft mellow light: tlirouu'h wliicdi the south wind flitted 
 with an invigorating coolness. Buzzi]ig bees, singing 
 birds, and the tinkling l^ells of the herds eidivened the 
 landscape which, pregnant with the odor of new blown 
 flowers, stretched out undulatingly before me. I strolled 
 on, delighted with the varigated beauty of the rural 
 scenes, till somewhat fatigued I x^assed down a declivity 
 and found a spring and a plot of green earth. Here I 
 stooped to quench my thirst and sat under the trees to 
 rest. The majestic sun clind)ed up the deep blue of the 
 heavens and filled the earth with his white light, 
 and in the distance a windinu' horn reminded me of the 
 farmer's nooning. Then a horse neighed: and. looking 
 up. I saw several weary and travel-worn horses feeding 
 
124 
 
 SKETCHES FROM LIFE IN DIXIE. 
 
 on the green, and further on two or three covered wag- 
 ons, which I recognized at once to be the property of 
 that wandering tribe known as Gypsies. In a short 
 while a dark-eyed woman, about thirty years of age, 
 came to the spring for water. She passed close to me, 
 and began a conversation, in the course of which she said 
 in a sweet musical way, "Something troubles you, sir. 
 Let me tell your fortune?" I held out my hand and she 
 began her revelations, all of which it is useless to men- 
 tion. It is enough to say that among other things she 
 told me was: •'Strange to say there's a man in your case. 
 He will pass this way soon." 
 
 Presently there was the noise of wheels and a horse 
 swinging along the highway in a brisk trot. The driver 
 reigned in the horse and said in a familiar way, "Hello, 
 George! Jump in and let's ride back to the city." The 
 driver was Michael john. Unconsciously I bit my finger 
 nails; and the coloring of my face must have betrayed 
 my emotions, for when I rose to get in the buggy the 
 dark-eyed woman said in a whisper, "Beware of thy 
 friend! This is the man.'' I threw her a coin and we 
 rode off toward the city. 
 
 No musician ever played upon a stringed instrument 
 with more skill than that woman did upon my emotions, 
 the effect of which was that jealousy, long dormant in 
 my heart, now became the ruling passion of my being; 
 against which my reason rebelled, and kept on arguing 
 that he who sees not with his own eyes, nor conceives 
 with his own mind is still in the dark. 
 
 This argument so far i3revailed that I at last made 
 up my mind to know the whole truth; and if my suspic- 
 ions were well grounded to sever my connections with 
 
SKETCHES FROM LIFE IX DIXIE. 
 
 125 
 
 Malicia Ann forever: if tliey were not. then to confess 
 my errors and forsake tliem. 
 
 To this end I organized a thoroug-h system of secret 
 service detection, and set spies over the victims of my 
 susi3icions, who reported to me daily. These reports, 
 together with those of Madame Rumor. Avere set in every 
 coloring known to descriptive discourse. Imt that which 
 my soul craved for. They neither alleged nor denied the 
 guilt of Malicia Ann: liut they managed to keep me in a 
 terrible state of confusion for aloout a year, 
 
 Finally I dismissed my emissaries and went into the 
 accursed business myself, Then came the pernicious 
 affair of slipping into and out of. through and around my 
 own house, with that lyiixdike tread which cowardice 
 lends to jealousy: the result of which was a continuation 
 of the perplexity in which the dark-eyed Gypsy and my 
 emissaries had placed me. Thinking my plans were de- 
 tected. I concocted a new scheme. 
 
 Early one morning I told my wife T should he out of 
 town for several days, and rt^quested her to look after 
 my mail. That afternoon I. heavily disg'uised as a tramp, 
 passed her. undetected; on my office steps, hurried home 
 and locked myself in the pantry. About eight o'clock in 
 the eA'ening she came in. and later Michaeljohn came. 
 After the usual salutation they retired to their own rooms 
 for the night. 
 
 I do not know why: but it is nevertheless true, that 
 around everv act of ours there is always a clue, incident 
 or circumstance which leads to the disclosure of our 
 designs, .however much we may wish to secrete them. 
 They may eminate from ourselves or be concomitant with 
 the acts of other persons or things, over which we have 
 no control. 
 
126 
 
 SKETCHES FROM LIFE IN DIXIE. 
 
 It was June 23rd, 1894, and the clock was on the 
 stroke of midnight; the sweet notes of Malicia Ann's 
 guitar died melodiously away. I knew the music well, 
 it was the same old air to which I had played the accom- 
 paniment on my violin a hundred times, during the first 
 year of our nuptials — surely she must be thinking of me; 
 instantly I turned my eyes in on my own wicked heart 
 and began meditating a confession : when suddenly there 
 broke out in the pantry the ear-splitting squall of Bill 
 Jones' torn cat. I began hurriedly to unbolt the door, 
 at which, as soon as it was ajar, the cat jumioed and lit 
 squarely on my head and entangled itself in my long- 
 hair. In its fright it began to scratch and bite territicly. 
 I threw up my hands and caught it by the fore feet and 
 neck, and ran abruptly into my wife's room, uttering 
 exclamations of rage and terror. This terrified her and 
 she screamed awfully. 
 
 Michaeljohn heard the noise, and thinking there were 
 burglars in the house, came down the stairs at a rapid 
 rate. I tugged away at the frantic thing on my head, 
 and by the time he reached the hall door I had succeeded 
 in strangling it, and its crushed carcass lay bleeding be- 
 neath my heel. 
 
 I stepped hurriedly across to the right of the door, 
 which, if it were open, would partially hide me from view; 
 but not enough to keep my whole jDerson from being re- 
 flected by a large mirror which hung against the oppos- 
 ite wall. 
 
 The breaking open of the door was but the work of a 
 moment for the enraged man. He entered, fixed his eye 
 uiDon me; nerved himself for the awful deed and deliber- 
 ately took his aim. 
 
 Terrorized by the impending danger, I threw up my 
 
SKETCHES FEOM LIFE IN DIXIE. 
 
 127 
 
 hands, and in the ansi'uisli of despair cried. "Oil Lord II 
 Merciful God I help, help! Mike, are yoii goinu' to kill 
 me":'" He recognized my voice, but it was too late. 
 There was a flash of fire, a puff of smoke and all was 
 over, The hall went crashing thruugh the mirror, I was 
 unhurt: but my reflection was terribly mankind: for it 
 was at this Michaeljohn took his aim, 
 
 The excitement subsided and Malicia Ann ( God bless 
 her I) dressed the Avounds made by the cat. After which 
 I made a strai^'ht forward and upt-n confession of the 
 guilt of my misgivings: of which this narration is but 
 an extract. Such were the occurrences which happened 
 in the home of David Overhead, as told me by David 
 himself. 
 
 Finale.