::^\<S><e-?>.\^^ "-N^^^^^U^^ 
 
^m 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY OF 
 
 NORTH CAROLINA 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 THE WILMER COLLECTION 
 
 OF CIVIL WAR NOVELS 
 
 PRESENTED BY 
 
 RICHARD H. WILMER, JR. 
 
Digitized by tine Internet Archive 
 
 in 2009 witii funding from 
 
 University of Nortin Carolina at Chapel Hil 
 
 .http://www.archive.org/details/tomjoetwofarmerbOOcoll 
 
^s^ 
 
 .0 
 
 
vfi 
 
 
 cy-f^ 
 
 
TOM Mb joe. 
 
 TWO FARMER BOYS IN WAR AND 
 PEACE AND LOVE. 
 
 A LOUISIANA MEMORY, 
 
 RICHMOND, VA.: 
 
 EVERETT WADDEY, PUBLISHER AND PRINTER. 
 
 1890. 
 
Entered according to Act of Congress, In the year 1890. by 
 
 CLARENCE B. COLLINS, 
 In the Office of the Librarian ol Congress, at Washingtoa 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 HE following little story, as told by one who witnessed 
 many of its scenes and incidents, will appeal to the hearts of 
 thousands who saw the great drama of a quarter of a century 
 ago. To the naiddle-aged and the old of our dear Southland it 
 will bring back that happy period when our country lived its 
 golden age — the glorioua summer day that closed in storm and 
 darkness ; to the young it tells how their ancestors lived and 
 Wed and died ; to those who loved and still love the "Lost 
 Cause," it will recall the tenderest memories of a lifetime, and 
 to those who loved it not, the story tells how we loved it. The 
 love Judge Mabry bore for the Union had its counterpart all 
 over the South, and it lasted to his dying day, but he loved 
 better Vhe autonomy of States. With him local pride was 
 above and beyond national greatness. His sons were repre- 
 sentative boys of the heroic age of our country, of such stuff 
 as made that great struggle immortal, and made possible a 
 glorious "New South." They were farmer boys, proud of 
 their occupation, and glorying in their identity with the class 
 who ruled America during seventy progressive years. Many 
 of the incidents are literally true, and all are founded upon 
 facts in the lives of our two boys. This story is told that our 
 young people of to-day may not be ignorant of the more glori- 
 ous " Old South." 
 
 602779 
 
INDEX. 
 
 Chapter. Page. 
 
 L— A Great Event 7 
 
 II.— The First River Journey 12 
 
 III.— Belhaven— and the First Squirrel 18 
 
 IV.— Boy Heaven 24 
 
 v.— An Original Union Man 31 
 
 VI.— They Marched Away Down the Village Street 42 
 
 VII.-The Dead Roll of Shiloh 52 
 
 VIII.— Goodnight 59 
 
 IX.— How the Old Home Disappeared 7G 
 
 X.— Christmas, 1864 e^ 
 
 XI.— John Barton and Jennie 102 
 
 XII.— Goodnight Captures Richmond 117 
 
 XIII.— Tom's Battery 139 
 
 XIV.— "Forgive Me, Jedge— I've Come Back Alone!" 165 
 
 X■'^— Madge 176 
 
 XVI.— "There Never wussech a Gal as Susan." 187 
 
 XVII.— Tom the Ploughman and Burns the Poet 204 
 
 XVIIL— "NowLetMeRest.'^ 215 
 
 XIX.— "God Pity them Both and Pity us All." 229 
 
 XX.— Tom's Last River Journey 248 
 
TOM AND JOE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 A OB EAT EVENT. 
 
 UPON one of the lofty hills in the western suburb 
 of Mississippi's capital city stood, many years 
 ago, a square brick residence of comfortable 
 proportions and design, but without any especial 
 architectural attractiveness. It was a genuine, old- 
 fashioned Southern home, surrounded by a charm- 
 ing grove of natural forest, where the broad-leafed 
 hickory and mighty oak tempered the summer heat 
 and flamed out in gold and scarlet when the frosts and 
 winds of autumn came to ripen the nuts or carpet the 
 earth with leaves. In rear and away down the sunny 
 slope towards the river stretched garden and orchard 
 famous for the good things so delightful to our human 
 tastes, while in one corner of the grove nestled a little 
 lake, where happy children sailed their toy boats on 
 pleasant afternoons and filled the air with music of 
 their glad 3"oung voices. 
 
 (7) 
 
8 TOM AND JOE. 
 
 Here lived a man much loved and honored by the 
 people ; a man whose public career was as unblemished 
 as his private character, which was severe in its purity. 
 
 In such a home Tom awoke one morning and began 
 with clenched fists to fight the battle of life. The good 
 man who lived there was Tom's father, and from the 
 fact that Tom was the fifth step in the juvenile stair- 
 way, we are not justified in believing that there was 
 any great overflow of parental joy on that occasion, but 
 rather a sigh of relief that he was not *' twins," or even 
 a girl. 
 
 Some persons object to girls in the family, with the 
 plea that they are more expensive and not so useful 
 as boys. For the same coarse reason they banish roses 
 and lilies from the garden. Our hero's after-life failed 
 to develop the slightest cause for classing him among 
 such persons; on the contrary, he early developed a 
 fondness for the other sex that did more honor to his 
 heart than to his judgment, and laid the foundation 
 for many a future heartache. Doubtless he began by 
 loving his mother, but that sweet woman faded away 
 soon after his birth, leaving only a tender memory for 
 his love, and he was bereft of that influence to which 
 so many of the great ones of earth attribute their 
 success. 
 
 We have stated that Tom was number five. There 
 were three girls, and then there was Joe. Ah ! yes, 
 there was Joe. When Tom aw^oke he found Joe there 
 waiting for him; had been waiting nearly five years, 
 so now he was satisfied, and in great glee he raced out 
 
 §1 
 
A GREAT EVENT. 9 
 
 to the stable to tell old Don Pedro, the family horse, 
 and to the kennel behind the chicken-house, where 
 Blucher, the veteran watch-dog, had of late years done 
 most of his watching. Both those faithful animals tes- 
 tified their joy at the news in a manner peculiar to 
 such creatures, and fell to fighting the fly or the flea 
 with renewed activity. 
 
 The local newspaper recorded the arrival of a new 
 boy at Judge Mabry*s in the usual witty style of such 
 announcements, never thinking that it was toying with 
 the most sacred and solemn event of family life. Rela- 
 tives, both distant and at a distance, were duly noti- 
 fied, but the innocent hope that silver-spoons, hobby- 
 horses, cradles, or other customary gifts would follow 
 this notification was never realized, and there comes 
 down to us a dim tradition that the baby was rocked 
 in the rounding top of an ancient hair-trunk. If there 
 were any other demonstrations at the time history 
 fails to record them, and only the solemn fact remains 
 that a boy, a baby boy, an embryo man, full of life and 
 prepared for a large average of fun and tears, had come 
 with a fixed purpose to remain as long as possible, and 
 get the most good out of life. 
 
 During the firsi four years of life our little Tom did 
 nothing remarkable. He had measles and whooping- 
 cough just as other boys, and he fell into the river one 
 day to be fished out more than half dead. He early 
 displayed an alarming propensity to play out in the 
 street and get run over by passing carriages. With 
 that fatality attached to chubby juveniles he always 
 
10 TOM AND JOE. 
 
 stubbed bis toe at tbe wrong time, and never ran from 
 danger witbout falling in its patbway. In tbeir wan- 
 derings about tbe streets of tbe city bis companions 
 often found stray dimes, or pocket-knives, but Tom 
 never did. Joe was a lucky boy. He always fell on bis 
 feet, and was a leader among tbe West End boys, coup- 
 ling a conscientious care witb absolute fearlessness. 
 
 It was rare sport for tbe boys in those good old days 
 at Jackson to guy tbe drivers and tbrow clods of dirt 
 at tbe two-borse stages, but when one thundered by in 
 all tbe glory of four steeds, and tbe tra-let-la-la of tbe 
 bugles, they all stood in open-mouthed awe and each 
 one mentally vowed that one day he would drive a 
 four-horse stage. Few boys of thirty years ago but 
 were guilty of such ambition which eventually they 
 were glad to "fling away," and admire the dashing 
 brakesman with brass buttons, braided cap, and impu- 
 dent manner, as he tenderly assists the pretty girls off 
 tlie train and allows the old lady with a dozen bundles 
 to fall off if she likes. 
 
 Tom doubtless lived very happily during those four 
 years. He fared well, grew amazingly, and in common 
 witb most boys of his day and age was not too much ham- 
 pered by the conventionalities of dress. In fact, a sin- 
 gle loose garment, none too long, gave free play to the 
 bounding activity of the boy, and causes him after 
 thirty long years to sigh for bis old-time freedom. 
 
 It is a pity that children are so much dressed now- 
 a-days. Many of them never know the freedom and 
 unfettered joys of childhood ; they are little old men 
 
A GREAT EVENT. 11 
 
 and women when they ought to be throwing mud at a 
 two-horse stage. We find the little things crowding 
 the places of amusement, balls, matinees and card par- 
 ties without end, until we wonder what will be the effect 
 upon the next generation. Do we forget that those 
 children are to be the fathers and mothers of our race? 
 
 Tom ought to be glad that he lived in the da^^s of 
 stage coaches and single garments. 
 
 "Well, the four years passed and our little man was 
 four years wiser. He had learned many things that 
 children ought to know, and the reverse; he had spent 
 two seasons over the river at the farm and knew how 
 to chase rabbits, find hen nests and dig worms for bait. 
 He could do anything that a four-year-old was able to do, 
 and he had learned that in all well-regulated fami- 
 lies there was kept " a rod in pickle " for unruly boys. 
 Pie w^as the strong impersonation of youth and health, 
 with a blending of town and country manners. Joe 
 was his tutor and leader in all things as he w^as his 
 champion in many a "rough-and-tumble" of later 
 boyhood. He forced upon the younger brother a por- 
 tion of his own self-reliant courage and made good im- 
 pressions upon the boy that no time nor trouble could 
 efface. There is no teacher for imitative and confiding 
 youth like, an elder brother, and happy is the boy or 
 girl whose big brother is a worthy and affectionate 
 model. 
 
 Four happy and progressive years for Tom, following 
 Joe about the streets of the city and along the banks 
 of beautiful Pearl river, then came a great change. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE FIRST RIVER JOURNEY, 
 
 OOR many an age the crowning theme of poet's 
 verse and orator's most glowing period has been 
 woman. From empress to peasant her praises have 
 been sung. As lover, wife, mother, and widow, her 
 virtues are upon every manly tongue. Men do battle 
 in her behalf. They lie, steal, and kill on her account, 
 and they perform deeds of heroism or sacrifice in her 
 presence that make them famous through all coming 
 years. In every stage of life there is some one to laud 
 her, but when she takes up the burdens of another who 
 has fallen in the struggle, and as mother to children 
 whose baby hands never pressed her bosom until the 
 thrill of holy motherhood quivered through all her 
 soul and body, then her ear listens vainly for words of 
 commendation. Heroic, self-sacrificing stepmother I 
 When Tom reached his fifth year his father married 
 again, and brought into his family a woman who was 
 henceforward to carry all the vexatious burdens inci- 
 dent to the life of a stepmother, but she was a noble 
 woman and did her duty. The children all learned to 
 love her, and as they never purposely vex those whom 
 they love, her life was a happy one. Tom, owing to 
 his extreme youth, was her favorite, yet she did not 
 
 (12) 
 
THE FIRST RIVER JOURNEY. 13 
 
 spoil him on that account. She was a stepmother in 
 name but a mother in fact, and she soon taught him 
 that there was a mysterious place known as the "far 
 room," to which he was often invited. The irrepressi- 
 ble spirit of mischief in the boy had to be warred 
 against, when in mere wantonness he twisted the tails 
 of the calves to hear them bleat, tied the cat with a 
 twine to old Blucher,"or cast his father's boots into the 
 well; and the sounds of wailing and woe that came up 
 from that distant room told of penance and well- 
 grounded regrets. 
 
 It may be that we punish too much. We cannot, in 
 our maturer years and feelings, countenance many of 
 the pranks in which our boyhood gloried. We are 
 elder tyrants, constantly warring against the exuber- 
 ance of childhood. Grown-up people forget sometimes 
 that a healthy boy must have fun, if every quadruped 
 and biped on the farm has to suffer. 
 
 When the father married he not only obtained a 
 good wife, but sundry servants, plantations, live-stock, 
 etc., all located in another state, and all worthy of at- 
 tention ; so it came about that the entire family left 
 their city home and moved far away to a cotton planta- 
 tion. Tom and the girls went with the mother by 
 steamer, while Joe, with the father and servants, went 
 overland in patriarchal style, driving with them such 
 flocks and herds as had accumulated on the little farm 
 where our boys had spent the two summers mentioned. 
 
 In those days there was a little wheezy, rattling, 
 ramshackle train that ran to Vicksburg, on the Mis- 
 
14 TOM AND JOE. 
 
 sissippi river, and while, indeed, it was one of the sor- 
 riest outfits in America, it was an immense affair in 
 Tom's estimation. It passed every day in front of the 
 gate, but never, in his most reckless moment, did he 
 dare throw a clod of dirt at it, as he did at the plebeian 
 stage-coach, for vague rumors of little iron squirts, that 
 could throw streams of hot water to an incredible dis- 
 tance, had impressed all the boys with a most whole- 
 some awe of this thing of smoke, and steam, and 
 wheels. That railway is one of the oldest in the United 
 States, and after being torn, twisted, and upheaved by 
 the angry veterans of Johnston and Grant, the traveler 
 glides over it in Ipalace-cars upon well-ballasted steel 
 rails. 
 
 It was while the family were waiting at the depot 
 one cold December morning for the train to bear them 
 away upon their journey, our Tom picked up an idea 
 that was destined to bring him trouble in the near 
 future. A man came in to build a fire, and for lack of 
 a shovel he brought a live ember in his hands, which 
 he was enabled to do by passing it rapidly from one to 
 the other. This surprising performance captured Tom 
 and he mentally resolved that the first good chance he 
 would go and do likewise, but when he tried it he sud- 
 denly became a child of proverb. We never get over 
 learning by experience, and we drop many a hot coal 
 in the busmess of maturer years more readily than Tom 
 did in childhood. 
 
 At a tender age life in the city became a thing of the 
 past with our boys. 
 
THE FIRST RIVER JOURNEY. 15 
 
 Suddenly, without a regret, they left the old home 
 and plunged without remorse into the new realities of 
 plantation life. 
 
 Tom went down the great Mississippi river on one 
 of those wonderful floating palaces so famous in ante- 
 bellum days for splendor, cards and explosions. The 
 trip was a journey in wonderland, and every thing from 
 the mighty throb of the engine to the startling melody 
 of the dinner-gong, that most diabolical of all contri- 
 vances for warning civilized man of his meal time, 
 took our little man's fancy. So profound was the im- 
 pression made upon his youthful mind by this trip 
 that in after years, when at school, his first essay, or 
 composition, barring a few animated nature descrip- 
 tions of the dog, the cat, and the horse, was an account 
 of the same. 
 
 A small boy called Johnnie was a fellow passenger 
 of Tom's on that delightful trip, and soon became his 
 most intimate chum. Together they explored all the 
 dark corners of the boat and peered into mysterious 
 places, or perched upon the never-absent cotton bale. 
 Johnnie told how steamboats often "blowed up " and 
 killed all the little boys; how dreadful snags lay in 
 wait to " bust right into the side of the boat," and how 
 big whales were out there in the water waiting to swal- 
 low the unfortunate people. 
 
 Tom listened to those awful stories until trembling 
 at every revolution of the ponderous wheel he crept 
 close to his little friend and declared in a whisper that 
 he would not dare to sleep a wink that night. He for- 
 
16 TOM AND JOE. 
 
 got all his fears when the stars came out and mother's 
 gentle arms bore him away to bed, and to childhood's 
 happy dreams. 
 
 Down the great river, past pretty towns and noble 
 plantations, towering bluffs — since become historical — 
 and willow-crowned points, the mighty steamer sped 
 until one gloomy morning she rounded to at a muddy 
 little town and Tom's river journey wae ended for 
 many a year. This was his first trip upon the Missis- 
 sippi, but not his last. Let us see how it was that in 
 after years our hero so loved to travel on this same great 
 river, and how his hard-earned dollars went to buy coal 
 for a Mississippi steamboat. 
 
 When, on that first eventful journey, as Tom and 
 Johnnie were racing up and down the deck, getting in 
 everybody's way, there came down to the landing of a 
 great plantation a pretty little girl, with brown eyes 
 and curly hair. She came with her nurse to admire 
 the huge steamer, and as she shouted and clapped her 
 little hands, Tom and Johnnie cut their loftiest capers. 
 Was it fate ? Tom is now sure that it was the work of 
 Providence, and kindly work, too. 
 
 The boat passed on its journey, the little girl faded 
 from view for many a year, to reappear in all the fresh 
 beauty of young womanhood, and we shall see Johnnie 
 no more. Many a time has Tom sat and pondered 
 over the fate of his vanished chum. Did he get 
 " blowed up," as he so often expressed it ? Did he grow 
 tired of life's journey early and lie down by the way- 
 side to rest, or did he reach young manhood and then 
 
THE FIRST KIVER JOURNEY. 17 
 
 give himself to his country upon some awful field of 
 carnage? It is useless to speculate. Johnnie has 
 served his purpose in this story, and since Tom has 
 given him up for lost, from this good hour he shall be 
 dead to us. 
 
 A muddy landing, where he lost one of his shoes, a 
 long carriage ride through lanes, fields, and forests, 
 over bridges and across fords, and Tom's first journey 
 was ended, when, at supper-time, he found his first and 
 only grandmama. 
 
 What a blessed name, and how we pity the boy or 
 girl who never knew a grandmother ! Dear, patient 
 old mothers, who shield us so often from the righteous 
 wrath of a parent, and whose store-room or pantry is 
 always filled with goodies, how can I do you sufiicient 
 honor ? 
 
 There is not a little girl in America who does not vow 
 in her heart of hearts that she too will become a grand- 
 mama, and there never was a man worthy of the name 
 who would fail to take off his hat as one of these noble 
 old mothers passed on her trembling way. Her dear 
 face shines with angelic light, and heaven comes down 
 to meet her as she draws near its portal. There is a 
 halo of good deeds about the blessed head, and the 
 restful song in her heart has never a note of discord. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 BELHA VEN—AND THE FIRST SQ UIRREL. 
 
 SjlHE intelligent tourist when in Europe visits the 
 -*■ house where Goethe was born, and wanders thought- 
 fully about the place that claims Dante ; in America, 
 the log cabin where Lincoln first saw the light, or the su- 
 perb homes of Washington and Lee, are alike objects 
 of untiring interest, but who will ever care to know 
 anything about the early home of our Tom and our 
 Joe? The house where they were born will never 
 again echo to mortal footsteps, and we hope to tell 
 in a later chapter how and when it ceased to be a 
 habitation. 
 
 There was perhaps no lovelier or more homelike por- 
 tion of America than the hill country of Eastern Lou- 
 isiana, and it was well named by early settlers, " Happy 
 land." Magnificent forests of hardwood, swift, purling 
 streams through every valley, vast fields of corn and 
 cotton, elegant residences and densely peopled quarters, 
 all combined to make that favored section the one 
 green spot of earth to thousands of happy dwellers. 
 Enthusiastic men called it Paradise. Of one thing we 
 are certain; during the decade ending with ISGOitwas 
 the beautiful Southland intensified, and the very home 
 of contentment. 
 
 (18) 
 
BELHAVEN AND THE FIRST SQUIRREL. 19 
 
 But the picture has changed as when upon some 
 summer day the tempest sweeps down a lovely valley 
 and blots out its fairest features. Gone are its culti- 
 vated fields, its wealth, its customs, and forever gone 
 are most of its happy people. The noble old men and 
 the tender old women who made Feliciana famous for 
 culture, and elegant hospitality, lived to see their wealth 
 all swept from them, and after a few years of toil and 
 sorrowing passed away. The brave young men of that 
 region are scattered wath the heroic dead on every bat- 
 tle-field from Manassas to Franklin, while the precious 
 girls have also vanished — "Some at the bridal and 
 some to the tomb." 
 
 Capital and labor may build again more costly homes 
 on every slope and forest-crowned hill ; broader fields 
 may be opened, and the spring times that come and go 
 may bring back fairer flowers than thos« of the long 
 ago May-day ; but no spring time, nor wealth, nor skill 
 and labor, can call again the happy peace and the 
 heavenly content that rested like a benediction upon 
 land and people. 
 
 It was in this lovely region and upon one of its no- 
 blest plantations that our two boys met to begin life 
 anew and drink in all its happy fullness for ten beau- 
 tiful years. Belhaven was a lovely home rnd its dwell- 
 ers were content. With a sturdy manliness, always his 
 characteristic, our Joe soon mastered every detail of 
 plantation life, and became his father's right-hand man- 
 Our fond eyes can see him yet, after thirty years, as 
 proudly conscious of the trust he carried the keys to 
 
20 TOM AND JOE. 
 
 barn and storehouses, and superintended the distri- 
 bution of rations for the servants or forage for the 
 stock. Or, how confidently he rode into the neighbor- 
 ing village and looked after certain shipments of cot- 
 ton, or selected sundry barrels of supplies. How readily 
 the brave, thoughtful boy becomes the moving spirit of 
 the farm, and how quickly all learn to rely upon him. 
 His opinion is early sought in out-door matters and ho 
 has a voice in the family council. Blessed is the brave 
 home boy in the eyes of father and mother, and to lov- 
 ing sisters he is the manliest man on earth. 
 
 Joe early became a mighty hunter, and took pleasure 
 in initiating our little Tom into all the mysteries of both 
 gun and rod. There is no happier mortal than a boy 
 with a gun bringing down his first squirrel. After 
 years may bring him many honors, much wealth, and 
 an abundance of happiness, but we doubt if there is a 
 more exquisite moment in all his career than this — 
 when, unheeding the misery inflicted upon a poor little 
 creature, bang goes the gun, and down comes the game. 
 How intimately our pleasures are often blended with 
 the suffering of some other creature, and some of our 
 joys are builded upon the sorrows of a fellow ! 
 
 Tom used to be Joe's shadow, and went with him 
 always to " turn the squirrels " and carry the game 
 nor will he ever forget the occasion, or the place, when 
 finding two large fox-squirrels in one tree, Joe gener- 
 ously allowed him to choose one and take a shot at it. 
 So important an event in Tom's career must have, as 
 it deserves, more than a passing notice. We know the 
 
BELHAVEN AND THE FIRST SQUIKREL. 21 
 
 spot well, for did Tom ever pass it without calling 
 attention to his exploit ! Never. Yes, he did go by 
 once, a few years later, but he was in an awful hurry 
 and did not linger. Later on we will tell why Tom 
 was so interested in getting away from there. 
 
 The tree where this squirrel episode took place was a 
 pine to which clung a large muscadine vine, and it 
 probably yet stands at the foot of a rocky hill near the 
 old pasture-field of Belhaven. The gun was a long 
 double-barreled fowling piece, famous in all that sec- 
 tion for its shooting qualities, but so heavy that it 
 required almost a man's strength to handle it. There 
 was no kinder brother than Joe, so he humped his back 
 and let Tom take a rest on it, until after a long and 
 tiresome effort to get aim there came a tremendous 
 bang and the sad little period of one squirrel's life was 
 forever rounded. Intensely excited, Tom dropped the 
 gun, gathered up the game, and almost flew to the 
 house, a mile ji way, where admiring mother and sisters 
 listened with unflagging interest to every detail of the 
 killing and foretold greater things for the future. The 
 Judge also took great interest in his son's performance, 
 for he was himself an accomplished sportsman, and 
 ordered an extra quantity of lightwood prepared in 
 case it became necessary to sit up with Tom that 
 night. 
 
 "You are making fun of me now, father," cried the 
 boy, and his eyes began to fill, when just then Joe came 
 in, and in his affectionate way told again the wonderful 
 story until Tom was too proud to cry. 
 
22 TOM AND JOE. 
 
 Since that day the young Nirnrod has brought down 
 all sorts and sizes of game with the hitest improved 
 tackle, but never again will he kill his first squirrel, 
 and alas! alas! poor, dear, generous Joe will never 
 again applaud the successful hunter. 
 
 Those blessed days and years that fled all too quickly 
 at beautiful Belhaven measured the time until ISGl. 
 
 Tom was then twelve years of age and Joe was sev- 
 enteen — still brothers, always companions. At school 
 together, and side by side in the cotton-})atch ; roam- 
 ing the beech-covered hills, plunging into the ni-igh- 
 boring swimming hole, hunting the coon and opossum 
 during the stilly hours of night, or watching the winter 
 flight of duck and pigeon; always together, our two 
 boys looked only to a happy future, and dreamed of 
 no sorrow so great as separation. 
 
 We cling to those we love, but a mightier power — 
 call it Fate or Providence — drags us asunder, and as 
 we drift apart in clouds and darkness, poor mute 
 hands beckon to each other through the mist. 
 
 Our boys had lived m an Eden, and saw not the 
 shadow just over the wall. The quiet corner where 
 they grew in strength and happiness was as free from 
 care as the h-ome of our first parents, but by-and-by 
 they heard vague rumors of two great serpents, called 
 Abolition and Secession, which were filling all the land 
 with the sound of their hissings, so that men began to 
 assemble and discuss the prospect, or possibilities, of 
 some dreadful political convulsion. In the light of 
 to-day it seems strange that there was no Hercules pow- 
 
BELHAVEX AND THE FIRST SQUIRREL. 23 
 
 erful enough to strangle those dread ministers of Fate, 
 but men were mad and reason had fled away. The 
 accumulated wrath of many a bitter controversy had 
 filled their hearts and nerved their arms for a struggle 
 to the death. The demon in man was unloosed for a 
 season, and brothers who had followed the starry flag 
 to freedom and to fame forgot that they were brothers. 
 All was love and peace at Belhaven, but the deluge 
 came, and the song of birds was lieard no more. What 
 could our two bo3's know of such things ? and it was 
 cruel to break in upon their happy lives. It seemed 
 cruel then, and it seems cruel now. Perhaps one day 
 we shall all know why it was permitted. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 BOY HE A VEN. 
 
 n^HE boy who does not love to fisli, if one such exists, 
 J[ will bear watching. There is something wrong in 
 his make-up; some inherent lack of naturalness that 
 calls for our pity rather than our condemnation. The 
 sport may be called cruel, but we shall not discuss that 
 question, nor shall we point out the numberless laws 
 and authorities justifying it, from the day w^hen the 
 apostle said " I go a- fishing," until now. We will only 
 accept a delightful fact, and continue to dig for earth- 
 worms when the flowers blossom and the birds mate. 
 We are really sorry for the boy who takes no pleasure 
 in fishing. He is not fairly rounding out life's joys, 
 and passes into manhood without knowing all the 
 capabilities of boyhood. The twelve-year-old boy finds 
 more genuine pleasure fishing for mudcats, eels, and 
 suckers, along some dirty little creek, than grown-up 
 folks can ever know amid clearer waters and more 
 royal game. 
 
 Our Tom and Joe loved to fish. They were earnest 
 sportsmen and intensely natural, hence it was that one 
 fine spring morning in 1861 Joe bounced out of bed 
 and called : 
 
 "Tom! Tom I get up, you lazy young rascal !" 
 
 (24) 
 
BOY HEAVEN, 25 
 
 " Oh, go away, Joe ! I'm sleepy," answered Tom, then 
 he yawned and stretched, rolling over for another nap. 
 Joe again called : " Tom ! come now, be lively, and 
 listen to the birds. I hear the red-bird and the joree 
 fairly splitting their little throats out in the front woods. 
 Get up, boy, get up ! Out with you, and hear them ! " 
 
 •■'Oh, plague on the birds, let 'em split! I'll fling a 
 rock at them when I get out. Why the diccance can't 
 you let a fellow sleep?" — then the young sluggard 
 turned over to the wall. 
 
 But Joe persisted — "I say, Tom ! T saw the dogwood 
 along the spring branch all bursting out into bloom 
 yesterday." 
 
 "Well, what of it? Confound it all, Joe! here you 
 are first bothering me about the Vjirds, and now poking 
 your flowers at me ! Can't you let them bloom in 
 peace ? What do you suppose I care for all the dogwood 
 wood blossoms this side of Halifax ? Git out with you ! " 
 
 Tom was now thoroughly mad, and covering his 
 head with the pillow, determined to hear no more, but 
 Joe laughingly replied : 
 
 " All right, young man. I thought you knew that 
 when the dogwood blooms it is time for trout to bite. 
 I am going fishing after breakfast, but you may stay 
 at home." 
 
 At the first mention of fish Tom was wide-awake, 
 and drawing his head from under the cover, where he 
 had thrust it, sprang out of bed with a bounce. 
 
 "Hurrah for General Jackson*!" he shouted, "we 
 are going fishing ! we are going fishing!" and as he 
 2 
 
26 TOM AND JOE. 
 
 crawled into his trousers lie rattled away: "I was 
 down at the creek yesterday, when father sent me to 
 look for the big spotted sow, that has eight cunning 
 little pigs, and I thought the water looked awful nice 
 and fishy. Shall I dig some worms for perch and min- 
 nows, Joe ? There's just oodles of worms, great, long, 
 wriggling fellows, out back of the wash-shed, and I can 
 get a gourdful in most no time." 
 
 "All right," replied Joe, " you get the bait and I'll look 
 after the hooks and lines, which need overhauling. 
 Go by mother's room and ask her to hurry the cook 
 with breakfast. I talked with father last night and 
 wanted him to go with us, but he has to go to town 
 to-day on business, so we must go without him. You 
 dig the bait quickly, and run drive the calves to the 
 pasture; as soon as I look over these fishing lines I will 
 get old Pedro and carry a bag of cotton-seed up to the 
 big mud hole for the hogs, and by that time breakfast 
 will be ready." 
 
 Our boys sped away whistling and shouting upon 
 the mission of their several farm duties, and soon after 
 sunrise, with breakfast hastily swallowed, well-filled 
 lunch-basket, gourdful of earth worms and grubs, off 
 they went to spend a day in the forest, and along the 
 bank of the bright little creek. 0, beautiful day! 0, 
 day of perfect joy ! day to be remembered while Tom 
 lives, and we doubt not that in the hereafter the unfor- 
 getting spirit will fondly dwell upon it, and recall its 
 pleasures for comparison with nobler joys ! 
 
BOY HEAVEN. 27 
 
 In front of the dwelling at Belhaven is one of the 
 noblest forests of magnolia, oak, beech, and sweetgum 
 that ever delighted human eye, while the surface 
 sweeps gradually and beautifully down for about one 
 third of a mile to a little spring branch at the edge of 
 what w^as called the swamp. 
 
 The boys sped rapidly through that beautiful grove, 
 then on for a few hundred yards underneath the heavy 
 timber of the swamp, across the " slashes" by a mighty 
 foot-log, they followed a well-beaten path* amid swamp 
 laurel and pawpaw^ thickets to the creek. Here was 
 one of the famous fishing and swimming holes, known 
 to all the boys of the neighborhood, which Tom and 
 Joe now approached with quiet footsteps, and with 
 breathless alacrity prepared for the day's sport. 
 
 " Now, Tom, you put your small hook over in the 
 shallow water near the sand bar and catch me a 
 shiner. I think there is a trout at the riffle where the 
 w^ater passes over that log, and with a nice live bait I 
 can catch him." 
 
 " Oh, Joe, catch your owm minnows ! I w^ant to catch 
 a perch here at this little drift," — and our unobliging 
 young fisherman, seating himself upon a mossy beech 
 root, at once forgot how much kindness he owed to 
 Joe. 
 
 "Tom, you are a mean, chuckle-headed fellow, and 
 are aw^fully unobliging. You forget that I pummelled 
 John Barton not long ago for slapping you, although 
 you richly deserved a licking. John says you put 
 
28 TOM AND JOE. 
 
 cockleburrs under his saddle and made old Prince run 
 away with him, and that you chopped liis shinny-stick 
 into pieces with the axe. Of course you deserved a 
 thrashing, as you do about three times a day, but then 
 he is not the fellow to give it to you. So now after all 
 this, you wont oblige me? Suppose I catch a fine 
 trout? you will be the very first one at the table to 
 want a piece of it." Joe nearly lost his temper with 
 his little brother this time and Tom fired in with — 
 
 " That's all very well for you to say, Joe, but you 
 know that mother always eats the trout, and for my 
 part I'd rather have blue cat any day." 
 
 He saw the pained expression on Joe's face and his 
 conscience smote him, for his kind brother was very 
 dear to Tom, so he said : " Forgive me, Joe, dear. It was 
 mighty good of you to wallop old John Barton, the old 
 pug-nosed rascal ! He took his great foot and kicked 
 all my marbles out of the ring, off into the grass, so I 
 lost my pretty agate that father bought me Christmas, 
 and that cute little black alley. I despise him ! I could 
 beat him half to death — but I'll get even with him if 
 it takes me a thousand years." 
 
 " I'll catch you a minnow, Joe, and I'm sorry I was so 
 selfish — besides, the perch don't bite here worth 
 shucks." 
 
 There seems to have been a good deal of every-day 
 human nature about our Tom. The perch refused to 
 bite, so he became very penitent and was ready to give 
 up his own pleasure to wait upon his brother. It often 
 happens that way with older persons wdien perch refuse 
 
BOY HEAVEN. 29 
 
 to bite. Ere long a bright, dancing silverside was 
 dangling on the end of Tom's line, and hookingit care- 
 fully under the dorsal fin, Joe had as pretty a bait as 
 ever tempted the fastidious trout from his lair beneath 
 beech roots. 
 
 All was now suppressed excitement while Joe played 
 his minnow to attract the royal game. Tom scarcely 
 dared to breathe, and an ill-timed sneeze would have 
 sent him to execution at once. The bright waters rip- 
 pled and sang their lullaby over fallen tree and bended 
 reed ; an early kingfisher, intent upon his breakfast, 
 plunged from a neighboring bough upon a luckless 
 minnow; the cat bird called to its mate in the alder 
 bushes around the bend, and the Spanish bugler, whose 
 mellow notes along the creek always indicate good 
 fishing, was piping his sweetest, when suddenly there 
 came a splash — a gleam of white flashed with the 
 rapidity of lightning — then away went Joe's cork, and 
 his line fairly whizzed through the water. 
 
 " Ge-e-e-mennie, what a whopper! Hold him, Joe! 
 Jerk him out!" cried Tom, but our Joe was older and 
 wiser. He had learned that the most exquisite joy of 
 the angler is not in yanking his game suddenly upon 
 the bank, but in allowing it to play ; in feeling the 
 electric thrill that passes along the line and rod ; in 
 conquering the noble fish gently and skillfully. Away 
 went the line, singing through the water, until it was 
 perfectly taut and the pliant rod was bent like a bow. 
 " Easy, now, old fellow," said Joe, " you'll not get under 
 those roots if I can help it. Play now until yon are 
 
30 TOM AND JOE. 
 
 tired, and — wup, sir!" as the fish sprang wildly out of 
 the water trying in vain to shake the liook from its 
 mouth. "Gracious! he'll get loose if he does that 
 again." The angler was skillful and the fish was 
 game, but the odds were all on one side, and soon the 
 uoble trout gave up the struggle, floundering helplessly 
 upon its side, until it was gently drawn to the bank 
 and cast fluttering unon the leaves. 
 
 " lie is a good one, and will weigh at least three 
 pounds," cried the exultant Joe, as he looked with a 
 fisherman's pride upon his catch. 
 
 " Three pounds! " answered Tom. " Three diccance! 
 I'll bet you a thousand dollars it will weigh ten pounds 
 on any scale that ever was invented. Three pounds, 
 indeed ! I'd like to see mother try to eat all that fish. 
 She will have to call in father and the girls to help 
 her. I'll call it ten pounds, anyhow." Thus we see 
 our Tom beginning early to lay the foundation for his 
 future fame as a manufacturer of fish stories. The boy 
 could not keep away from the big fish, but sadly neg- 
 lected his own hook, until an exclamation from Joe : 
 
 " Look out, Tom ! something has got your line, and 
 is running off with it." Greatly excited, Tom sprang 
 to reach his pole, when a wild honeysuckle tripped his 
 foot, and he rolled down the slope, lieels over head, 
 landing near the water's edge in exactly the right 
 place. Seizing his rod, he gave it a mighty jerk, land- 
 ing hook, line, and fish twenty feet above, among the 
 limbs of the old beech at whose base he had been sitting. 
 
 " You seem to be in a hurry ! " laughed Joe. 
 
BOY HEAVEN. 31 
 
 "Oh, pshaw! dog-bite such luck!" exclaimed Tom, 
 whose face was the living image of despair. " I wish 
 you would look at that, Joe. Now, ain't that enough 
 to make a fellow cuss ? Just look what a fish ! It's 
 all mouth, as father said of that fellow we heard talk- 
 ing about the Yankees the other day, at the big meet- 
 ing in town. He said he could whip five Yankees any 
 day, and that he would undertake to drink all the 
 blood shed in the war people are talking about. You 
 think he could do it, Joe? " 
 
 Tom had caught one of those funny-looking perch 
 whose development of mouth is something marvelous. 
 
 Joe answered him that the wild-talking man w^ould 
 probably not fight so well as he talked, then with in- 
 finite patience he untangled the line from the tree, and 
 all was lovely again. Some beautiful speckled perch, 
 a half-dozen red-horses, as many black bream, rewarded 
 Joe's skill, but nothing more like the champion trout. 
 Tom caught several small sunfish, a couple of idiotic 
 suckers, and finally wound up the afternoon by haul- 
 ing out a magnificent blue-cat, the king of all game 
 fish in Southern waters. Such wonderful sport thej 
 had that day, and what a glorious appetite ! They 
 could hardly wait until the great bell of a neighboring 
 plantation rang out the hour of twelve, to attack the 
 well-filled lunch basket. Boys get hungry early and 
 often ; especially is this true when off in the woods on 
 a day of frolic. No other pleasure can overshadow the 
 anticipation of dinner, unless it be the dinner, and the 
 afternoon refiections, when, lying upon a mossy knoll 
 
32 TOM AND JOE. 
 
 near the creek, gazing contentedly at the distant blue 
 that glimmers down amid the overhanging branches, 
 are a species of bliss not to be ignored in this prosaic 
 world of ours. 
 
 The young fishermen were hungry, and the dinner 
 was most enticing. What delicious, home-cured ham ! 
 and there never was such bread as the old-time sweet- 
 potato biscuit that Aunt Viney, the cook, used to make 
 at Belhaven ! Eggs, hard boiled, and a little paper of 
 pepper and salt. No dyspepsia troubled those two 
 sturdy country boys, and later on, one dreadful night 
 upon the battle-field of Chickamauga, Joe ate seventeen 
 hard-boiled eggs to nerve him for the next day's fear- 
 ful conflict. But the basket is not yet empty. Those 
 slices of potato-pone, spiced and browned until fit for a 
 king, or an American citizen, still cling to Tom's mem- 
 ory. He has partaken of many noble banquets since 
 that day ; has dined at the fashionable restaurants of 
 our great cities ; partaken of unlimited w^edding cake, 
 and enjoyed tlie steak of venison when hunger w'as 
 sharpened by keen mountain air, but never with such 
 a relish as when a boy on the old plantation he wrestled 
 with the toothsome potato-pone. Yet there are thous- 
 ands of persons in this vast country who never heard 
 of that dish, and tens of thousands who never tasted. 
 We are sorry for them. Perhaps Tom's boyish appetite 
 doesn't linger with him until now. He always swears, 
 gastronomically, by Aunt Viney, and declares that the 
 Roman Emperor who knighted a subject for inventing 
 a new dish would have made her an Ethiopic queen. 
 
BOY HEAVEN. 33 
 
 Such a day and such a dinner ! Two joyous happy 
 boys in boy heaven ! Yet even as they lolled along the 
 banks of the creek singing and shouting in all the 
 abandon of young life, or lingered above the clear 
 waters dreaming such dreams as come only to happy 
 boyhood, the long-peaceful land was startled by the 
 explosion of great guns, and from out the sulphurous 
 clouds that hung over Charleston harbor leaped light- 
 nings whose deadly glare was destined to blind the 
 eyes and reason of raging millions. The bells were 
 wildly ringing in all great cities a tocsin that would 
 soon be muffled into a funeral knell. No sound reached 
 the two happy boys, for they were out in the forest with 
 nature and close to the God of nature. 
 
 As Tom and Joe stepped into the house that evening 
 they met their father, who had just returned from town. 
 
 " Boys," said he, quivering with excitement, " the war 
 has begun. The Confederates opened fire on Fort Sum- 
 ter this morning. Oh, my God ! what is to become of 
 our poor country !" 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 AN ORIGINAL UNION MAN 
 
 rnHERE was a strange commingling of joy and sorrow 
 [ all over the South on that fateful night of April 
 12th, 1861. Thousands were rejoicing that the deci- 
 sive step had hcen taken, and yet other thousands were 
 full of grief when they remembered the dear old flag 
 that was then waving grandly as of old, amid a storm 
 of shot and shell. Every intelligent boy in the land 
 had dreamed of heroic endeavor under that flag, and 
 many brave men of the South looked to it with love 
 and hope amid the tempest of battle in far ofT 
 Mexico. 
 
 By a bare majority had the State of Louisiana voted 
 to leave the Federal Union, and among the many thous- 
 ands who loved that Union, and its glorious banner, 
 none were more honest in devotion than the father of 
 our boys. After supper, where mother had made an 
 heroic effort to eat the trout, as Tom had predicted, 
 and he had feasted on blue-cat, the family all as- 
 sembled in the sitting-room to discuss the mighty 
 event of that day. Joe had read the newspapers 
 and kept pace with the drift of events so that his 
 mind was made up. Every boy in the South who 
 reached the age of seventeen prior to the war knew a 
 
 (34) 
 
AN ORIGINxVL UNION MAN. 35 
 
 great deal about the political history of his country. 
 They read the papers, and got their political bias from 
 some one of the great journals of the age. Quick to 
 argue a point, or dispute a proposition, they were born 
 politicians. 
 
 " Father," said Joe, " I tried to-day while we were 
 fishing to explain to Tom why Louisiana and the other 
 Southern States have a perfect right to secede, but he 
 is so pig-headed that he won't understand it. I 
 think the young rascal is a half abolitionist anyhow." 
 
 " It's no such of a thing ! " wrathfully cried Tom ; 
 " but I don't want to belong to any other country than 
 the good old United States, and I should like to know 
 what is going to become of George Washington and 
 Andrew Jackson if we go off and make a new coun- 
 try?" 
 
 " We will take their bones along with us if that will 
 do any good," replied Joe; ''besides, Tennessee and Vir- 
 ginia are bound to come. But, father, give us your 
 views, and may be you can settle the young man." 
 
 There w^as a solemn pause for a few moments, and 
 such a hush fell on the assembly as comes over a court- 
 room when the judge puts on the black cap; then in 
 low tones the father proceeded to tell what he thought 
 of tlie momentous question. 
 
 " My son, you all know that two weeks ago I voted 
 against Secession, and I prayed as I voted. I thought 
 it not only inexpedient, but wrong. I am a whig, and 
 I love the Union as Mr. Clay loved it ; but I am also a 
 believer in the wholesome democratic doctrine of 
 
36 TOM AND JOE. 
 
 majority rule. My State, exercising her sovereign will, 
 has gone out of the Union, and now I have no choice 
 but to cling to her, however my views may diifer from 
 those of the majority. The king can do no wrong, and 
 my State is my king. I yet think that secession is 
 wrong in practice, since we have no just cause for leaving 
 the Federal Union. There has been no violation of the 
 constitution, nor can I see where any established right 
 of ours has been legally restricted. True it is that they 
 hide our runaway slaves up North beyond the reach 
 of the authorities, and it may be that the authorities 
 do not try to find them, but we on the other hand 
 hang such fellows as we catch here meddling with our 
 negroes, so the honors are about even. 
 
 "We have fuller representation in Congress than the 
 non-slaveholding States, inasmuch as our slaves, who 
 cannot vote, are in fact represented. That we did not 
 vote for Mr. Lincoln was our privilege, and it was 
 equally the privilege of our Northern brethren to vote 
 for him. They did vote for him and he was legally 
 elected. What reason have we for complaining? We 
 scattered our votes among three candidates and so lost 
 them all, therefore, we should abide the result of our 
 folly. This very fact shows how hopelessly we are 
 divided in the presence of the gravest political move- 
 ment of the age ; and let me say further, that there 
 can be no adverse legislation that will trample the con- 
 stitutional rights of any section, or individual, for we 
 have a Supreme Court which has been uniformly 
 friendly to us and our pet institution. Should we cling 
 
AN ORIGINAL UNION MAN. S7 
 
 to the government our strength in Congress will pre- 
 vent any very hostile legislation, and there is sufficient 
 friendly sentiment in the Northern States to keep us 
 from all harm if we are found at our post. Further- 
 more, the government and the flag are ours as much 
 as they belong to any other section, but when we 
 thrust these things from us, and disclaim all interest 
 in both; when we violate the law and resist the 
 authority of that government, we need not expect any- 
 thing else than trouble. We of Louisiana, especially, 
 have no right to secede, for did not the United States 
 buy us with their money, making us one of the fam- 
 ily, and when we w^ere threatened with foreign inva- 
 sion sent that great soldier and ardent Unionist, Andrew 
 Jackson, by whom all democrats swear, to protect us ? 
 Even our boy Tom there knows how well he did it. 
 We were purchased from a European despotism, and 
 made a sovereign state, so you see, my son, it is 
 the rankest ingratitude for us to destroy the mother 
 who took us to her bosom and nurtured us." 
 
 Joe here interrupted : " But, father, do not many of 
 the ablest expounders of the constitution declare that 
 under the compact the right of withdrawal was never 
 surrendered, and consequently any State is at perfect 
 liberty to withdraw from the Union? " 
 
 " Yes, my son, many very learned men take that 
 position, yet I think they are wrong. We are all very 
 apt to construe an instrument to accord with our own 
 desires, hence we are rarely free from bias. I love the 
 Union and am prejudiced that way. I do not believe 
 
S8 TOM AND JOE. 
 
 that you can anywhere find that the right of withdrawal 
 was reserved to the States, hence it must have been sur- 
 rendered for the mutual good. It is more than likely 
 that the patriots of old never contemplated such a state 
 of affairs as now confronts us 
 
 " But suppose we grant that a State has the right to 
 secede, I still hold such an act to be both unwise and 
 inexpedient. The ximerican Union is a result of the 
 loftiest patriotism and the sublimest human wisdom, 
 but if that Union may be dissolved at the pleasure of 
 one of the contracting parties, then it is a stupendous 
 monument of human folly. No, my children, the 
 founders of this government never contemplated any 
 other than a united people. Even should we succeed 
 in this mad attempt we will only have destroyed the 
 noblest form of government ever devised by man. No 
 good can result to us, nor can we expect any degree of 
 permanency. We are forming a Southern Confederacy 
 which is only the realization of a political dream, but 
 what will hold these States together, do you suppose ? 
 Texas, Arkansas, and Missouri will form a confederacy 
 west of the Mississippi river in less than ten years, and 
 will force Western Louisiana to go with them, making 
 a boundary of the great river and looking to New and 
 Old Mexico for more territory. Secession will prove a 
 contagious disease. 
 
 ''What is there to hold us together but slavery? 
 and I thank God, my children, that this curse will 
 soon be removed. It has proven a terrible misfor- 
 tune to us, but the institution is surely doomed. How 
 
AN ORIGINAL UNION MAN. 89 
 
 can it stand when opposed by the civilized world? 
 Every relic of barbarism is rapidly disappearing in the 
 light of this century, and human slavery must go. 
 
 " Again I say, secession is inexpedient, because, be it 
 never so lawful, it is doomed to failure should tiio gov- 
 ernment undertake to coerce us. This same govern- 
 ment which is ours will, since we disown it, backed by 
 the powerful North, and confronted only by a divided 
 people, compel us by force to return into the fold. The 
 boom of cannon this morning at Charleston has sounded 
 our death-knell, and as Mr. Stephens, of Georgia, in a 
 wonderful speech recently told his people, we shall feel 
 the shock of contending armies and all the wild deso- 
 lations of war. I believe his to be a prophecy — a 
 prophecy of evil indeed, but true as the woes foretold 
 of Jerusalem." 
 
 " So, father, you think the Yankees will thrash us, 
 do you?" cried Joe. 
 
 " Yes, my son, they will if they try, and I think that 
 after to-day's wild work they will try." 
 
 "Very well," replied the impulsive boy, "let them 
 try ! I think we are right, and we will make each hill- 
 side a battle-field until every valley is a graveyard." 
 
 "Hurrah for Joe and the Southern Confederacy! * 
 shouted Tom. " Let us start for Fort Sumter early in 
 the morning, Joe. Father, let me have your shotgun, 
 and Joe can take the rifle. I'll ride Don Pedro, and Joe 
 can ride young Buchanan, so we'll be cavalry. Mother, 
 I wish you would sew some red stripes on my pants to- 
 night, and put Dora's new ostrich plume m my hat." 
 
40 TOM AND JOE. 
 
 " Never mind, Tom — don't get in too big a hurry. 
 If you go off to the war who will drive up the cows? 
 We cannot spare you yet awhile, my boy, and if you go 
 off with such a rush I would like to know who will tie 
 up that big toe that you knock against every stump in 
 your path." 
 
 This cpuel cmt was from mother, and reminded Tom 
 that he was not yet a dashing cavalryman, but only a 
 small boy with a sore toe. That night Tom dreamed 
 that he led a great cavalry charge against Fort Sum- 
 ter and fell desperately wounded in the toe. 
 
 There was not much sleeping at Belhaven that night, 
 except among the children, and we doubt not that all 
 over this broad land, both North and South, good men 
 and women, were unable to sleep for thinking of the 
 dreadful drama upon which the curtain was then rising- 
 Well might they be restless, for the demon was un- 
 loosed and the tempest was driving on that w^ould vex 
 men's souls, and wreck the fairest hopes of many a 
 happy home. " The State can do no wrong, and I must 
 go w^ith my State," sighed the good old Judge. 
 
 The next morning, under a pretense of going hunt- 
 ing, Joe and Tom went away up to the old field pasture 
 and practiced at long range with the rifle upon a great 
 oak that stood, and yet stands, on the hillside. Twenty 
 years later, Tom stood at the foot of the old oak and 
 looked, w^th tear-dimmed ej^es, upon the scars of that 
 day's marksmanship. He went to the spot where our 
 young soldiers stood and tried to see the target, but the 
 wild and tangled growth had sprung up as dense as 
 
AN ORIGINAL UNION MAN. 41 
 
 that which shuts off the view of the opposing lines in 
 front of Petersburg. As the tender memory of those 
 vanished years swept over him, from the great deep of 
 his heart came this plaint : 
 
 " Oh, Joe, Joe ! would to God you could come back 
 to me, and you and I were boys again, fighting the 
 mimic w^ar or casting our lines for the wary trout. And 
 oh, dear, patriotic old father ! although the coffin-lid 
 has hidden the light of thine earthly crown of glory, 
 thou hast a crown immortal." 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 '' tiiey marched away down the village 
 street:' 
 
 OUR boys never went fishing together again. The 
 ^ bright waters, the birds, and the forest wooed them 
 in vain, for all interest now centered in town. There 
 gaily dressed officers were persuading the young men 
 to enlist for a six month's term in the army then being 
 formed, nor indeed was any persuasion necessary. 
 Never in the history of war did men respond more 
 cheerfully, and the better class of Southern youths in 
 18G1 could not be excelled in enthusiasm and deter- 
 mined courage. Filled to overflowing with the wild 
 spirit of adventure, and imbued with ideas of old-time 
 chivalry, they hungered for renown. The best blood 
 of the land was on fire ; tlie pride of the people was ap- 
 pealed to as it had never been before, and every college 
 sent forth a company. The young men of wealth and 
 intelligence enlisted at once, all fearing lest the war 
 should end ere they could win the glory that would 
 crown them heroes in after life. They were wild with 
 enthusiasm, and called it patriotism. It became patri- 
 otism later on, when, with heroic fortitude worthy of 
 success, they toiled and hungered, suffered and died. 
 One of the most pitiful pictures the world ever beheld 
 
 (42) 
 
THEY MAKCHED AWAY, AC. . 43 
 
 was the suffering and death of those noble boys, bat- 
 tling for a political idea, and glorifying it forever; hal- 
 lowing it with a love of country immortal as the suffer- 
 ings at Valley Forge. We believe as we are educated. 
 They fought as they had been taught from the cradle, 
 and made heroic history. The unvarnished facts of 
 their mighty endeavor compel recognition through all 
 the ages, and criticism is disarmed in the presence of 
 their tremendous struggle. The mounds formed over 
 their unknow^n graves have long ago been levelled with 
 the earth, and many of those who w^aited and wept for 
 them have little grass-covered mounds of their own — 
 all forgotten by the busy world. Will you forget them, 
 oh, suffering Southland I Never, never. We love them 
 for their heroic lives and their glorious death. We 
 must tell our children the story, and teach them to 
 uncover when they pass the lonely grave of a Confed- 
 erate soldier. 
 
 Our two boys dropped their books, neglected the 
 pigs, ignored the cow^s, and bade the squirrels w^ait 
 until the frolic w^as over. Tom even forgot Robinson 
 Crusoe, and left him scared almost to death over the 
 savage track, while he went off to look for other tracks 
 which were beginning to impress the sand upon every 
 shore — tracks that were destined to mark the sweep of 
 desolation all over the fair land and be filled wdth 
 blood. 
 
 Early in the month of May the second company was 
 being formed in the town of Clinton, and every after- 
 noon, at the public square, the band would play 
 
44 . TOM AND JOE. 
 
 patriotic music, then impassioned orators would take 
 up the theme and paint, in beautiful word-pictures, tlie 
 '•' patli of glory." Alas ! that the canvass should 
 shadow tlie grave ! One day, after several stirring 
 talks and the crash of warlike music, a call was made 
 for volunteers. Captain Hargrove, a dignified, sol- 
 dierly-looking gentleman, announced that he held a 
 commission authorizing him to raise a company in that 
 town, and that he was ready to enroll the names of all 
 who felt it their duty to arm in defence of their native 
 land. He told the assembled crowd that the war was 
 becoming a serious thing, and whilst the call was made 
 for six months only, the probabilities were that troops 
 would be needed longer. He stated, further, that the 
 indications all justified the belief that the Federal 
 Government really meant to coerce the seceded States 
 and compel their return into the Union. 
 
 "Shall we," said the speaker, "remain at home 
 in ease while our brethren m Virginia are stand- 
 ing a living wall against the invaders ? Can it be 
 said that the men of Louisiana are slow to meet dan- 
 ger? Will they shrink from the path to glory and 
 honor? Never! never! When duty calls, no true 
 son of the South ever yet failed to go. Every heroic 
 tradition of the past, and ever}^ glorious hope for the 
 future, appeals to us in the voice of our country ; then 
 together let us seek the foe and give him battle." 
 
 A mighty shout of approval greeted the words of the 
 speaker, and on that day the "rebel yell," destined to 
 electrify the fighting spirits of all future ages, was born. 
 
THEY MARCHED AWAY, <S:C. 45 
 
 With a hurrah the boys crowded to the speaker's stand 
 and gave their names for membership. Eighty-seven 
 noble young men responded to the call, and seventh 
 upon the list was the name of Joseph Mabry. Tom 
 was present and went wild with enthusiasm. He 
 heard the thrilling words, such as he had read in 
 books of history ; he saw floating above him a banner 
 with a strange new device ; he saw before him a noble 
 uniform of grey, which will forever symbolize marvel- 
 ous courage and heroic endurance; then straightway 
 he forgot the old banner that he loved and became a 
 rebel. When he sa ^ Joe go forward a wild impulse 
 seized him to go and be a soldier, too. The impulse of 
 manhood came upon him, and forgetting the cows and 
 pigs that were awaiting his return home to Belhaven, 
 forgetting the hunting and fishing, forgetting father 
 and mother, he rushed to the stand and begged for the 
 privilege of going with Joe. It was pathetic to hear 
 him plead for a trial, and see him tiptoe to make 
 believe that he carried the stature of a man. 
 
 "My God!" exclaimed old Major Chatham, a vet- 
 eran of 1812, "are our babies going to this inhuman 
 war?" 
 
 Had the old soldier lived to the end, he would 
 have seen boyish limbs mangled by shot and shell, 
 and the" seed-corn of the Confederacy " buried on many 
 a bloody hillside. 
 
 Captain Hargrove, with all the gentleness of a father, 
 put his hand on Tom's shoulder and told him to come 
 around to his office when the meeting adjourned to 
 
46 TOM AND JOE. 
 
 talk the matter over. The boy went home that even- 
 ing silent, but unconvinced. It took an awful shock to 
 silence him in those days. He had played, hunted, 
 fished, worked and schooled with Joe, nor could he see 
 any just cause why they might not fight together. 
 
 Great was the consternation at home that night 
 when they learned that Joe had become a soldier. 
 Father and mother gave their consent, although he 
 was only seventeen ; but Dora, the brown-eyed sister 
 next in age to Joe, rebelled and vowed she would do 
 something awful, until Tom interfered and told her 
 that in case she seceded from the family he would be 
 compelled to coerce her into submission. "Secession" 
 and " coercion " were household words at that time, and 
 our Tom was just the boy to turn the most solemn text 
 into slang. All W5is now preparation for the departure 
 of the young soldier. There were so many things to 
 arrange, and so many busy hands to assist in the labor 
 of love ; but all the while the aged father went about 
 his daily affairs with a heavy heart, for he knew that 
 his darling boy was going away to endure great suffer- 
 ing, and may be to die. The two weeks allowed to 
 make ready for the start soon sped, and now on the day 
 before the last night to be spent at home, Joe and Tom 
 walked about over the farm, and talked of the happy 
 past, or dwelt upon a glowing fuiure. As they walked 
 they communed as only two loving brothers can. 
 
 "I must go back into thebig pasture once more, Tom, 
 and climb again into the great mulberry tree — they 
 must be ripe now — and I want to see the old plum- 
 
47 
 
 thicket in the valley of the sedge-fiold once more. It 
 is getting quite warm, and I should enjoy a loll under 
 the shade of the three large sweetgums that stand in a 
 clump on dead-horse hill. Suppose we go by and see 
 if the chinquapen is in bloom, and we can try our skill 
 in jumping across Blackberry run just below the water- 
 gate, as we used to do. That old pasture where we 
 have loitered so often picking blackberries and search- 
 ing for the cows is very dear to me, and now I feel that 
 I may never look upon it again. The persimmon 
 thicket, where we caught the two 'possums one night 
 last fall, and that queer circle of cotton woods, must be 
 visited before I go. All the little details of the old life, 
 now that I am about to leave it, come back to me, Tom, 
 witli a clearness that makes me wonder, and the desire 
 to cling to them is almost a burden. I know now how 
 the poor exile must feel when leaving his native land 
 forever. And Tom, my brother, sometime when I am 
 gone, when I am ftir away, I want you to see Jennie and 
 tell her that I could not bid her good-bye. Tell her 
 that I shall dream of her by the camp-fires and in the 
 dread day of battle I shall prove to her that I am not 
 a coward. She thinks that I am faint-hearted because 
 I refused to fight John Barton last February at the 
 Valentine party, and declares that she will never smile 
 on me again. She will not understand my motive in 
 refusing to fight, but some day I trust she will know 
 me better. Tell her that I forgive her cruel words, and 
 that I shall love her even unto death, believing that 
 she will be sorry when she appreciates the truth. I 
 
48 TOM AND JOE. 
 
 have learned in the last twelve months, Tom, that God 
 does not love the brawler and the stirrer up of strife, 
 hence I cannot fight John Barton, on my own account, 
 unless compelled. You know that I am not afraid of 
 him, and you recollect well that I thrashed him not 
 long since on your behalf." 
 
 Tom promised, but he was not satisfied. "I tell you 
 what, Joe, I wouldn't fret about Jennie, with her snap- 
 pish eyes and pretty face. She is awful sweet when 
 she wants to be, but she ain't half good enough for you. 
 I wouldn't mind about giving old John Barton another 
 walloping, either, if I w^ere you. Hang me, if I don't 
 do it myself when I get a little older. You talk about 
 the Bible being opposed to fighting ; why, boy, it's 
 made up of rows and battles, and I find the book of 
 Kings about as interesting as the ' Conquest of Mex- 
 ico,' or the history of Robert Bruce. Wasn't Samson 
 a w^hale, though ? But, Joe, I'll tell Jennie, if you say 
 so, and I'll tell her that when you come back a colonel 
 she shan't have you. I'll bet a thousand dollars that 
 you won't notice her when you are on General Beau- 
 regard's staff." 
 
 Tom did not forget Joe's instructions, and we are 
 afraid that he did not mend matters any. His inten- 
 tions were good, and he championed Joe so enthusias- 
 tically, so much to the disparagement of the young 
 lady herself, that he almost got his face slapped for his 
 pains. 
 
 Until late afternoon of this last day did our boys 
 wander about the plantation and visit all the pleasant 
 
THEY MARCHED AWAY, &C. 49 
 
 spots. Tbey talked and communed as only two loving 
 brothers can, and Tom made a world of promises how 
 he would care for young Buchanan, and rub him down 
 daily. Six months later, to the boy's intense disgust, 
 the good pony was "pressed," and became the property 
 of a Confederate cavalryman. 
 
 Around the family circle the members all lingered 
 that night, until, at a late hour, the altar was erected, 
 and amid the tears of love and sorrow, prayers for the 
 young soldier went up beyond the stars to Him who 
 heareth and answereth prayer in His own appointed 
 way. 
 
 Early in the morning Joe was up, dressed in his 
 smart uniform, and ready to start. Going into the 
 sitting-room, he found the Judge at the table, leaning 
 his head upon his hands, apparently just as he was 
 when the good-nights were said. 
 
 " Why, father, you are up early — you look weary." 
 
 "Yes, my son. I did not go to bed at all. I could 
 not sleep, and here I have prayed for you all night." 
 
 " Oh, my father!" was all Joe could say, as they were 
 clasped in each other's arms. Other farewells were 
 said in the rooms of mother and sisters, too tender for 
 words, then came the old family servants to say good- 
 bye to "Marse Joe." Uncle Zeb, the foreman, was 
 spokesman for the party, and with tears in his eyes, 
 the faithful old man faltered : 
 
 " May de Lord God A'mighty bless you, Marse Joe, 
 an' keep you in de holler of His ban' I You is been a 
 good young marster to us all, and we all gwinter miss 
 3 
 
50 TOM AND JOE. 
 
 you when you gona We all luv you, Marse Joe, an' 
 we gwinter pray fer you constant." 
 
 "Good-bye, honey," sobbed Aunt Viney,"dese old arms 
 dun nussed you many a time. Don't forgit your 'ligion, 
 chile, and look to de King when tribilations come." 
 
 Joe's tears flowed afresh as he bade the faithful 
 negroes farewell, and now at the front gate, holding 
 young Buchanan, ready saddled, w^as Tom, and the 
 boy who was going along to lead the horse back. 
 
 "IVe tended to Buck well for you, Joe, and now he 
 is all ready. Oh, Joe, Joe ! why can't I go, too ? All 
 the boys are going, and here I am yet a baby. They 
 had better put me in long dresses at once, and feed me 
 out of a bottle, and I am getting so long-legged, too, 
 that I am ashamed to stay at home. Why, I'm twelve 
 years old now — next year I'll be thirteen, and I bet you 
 a thousand dollars I'll go then, if I have to run away ! 
 Why, Joe, Andrew Jackson was only thirteen years old 
 when he fought in the battle of the W^axhaws, and 
 everybody is proud of Lim. He w^as an orphan and 
 could have his own way ; it does look like some boys 
 have all the luck." 
 
 Thus wailed Tom at being compelled to remain away 
 from the wars — and the silly boy did not know that 
 there were numbers of men who would have given a 
 small fortune for his excuse. 
 
 " My dear Tom, you must be reasonable," answered 
 Joe, "and you must listen to father. Now, I w^ant 3^ou 
 to make mo one last promise — listen, Tom, and promisei^ 
 won't you?" 
 
THEY MARCHED AWAY, &0, 51 
 
 "Yes, dear old Joe, yes, yes. Anything for your 
 sake," answered the boy. 
 
 "Well, my little brother, I want you to stay at home 
 until father gives you permission to leave. The dear 
 old folks will need you, and you are worth more to 
 them than to your country." 
 
 " Oh, Joe ! That is mighty hard, and will ruin me 
 forever, for they never will consent, and I'll be called a 
 coward or a stay-at-home. Joe, you are ruining my 
 life." 
 
 " Never mind, Tom. It is mighty hard to do our 
 duty sometimes, but I have your promise, and I know 
 you will keep it — so, good-bye, my own brave little 
 brother ; may God bless you, and make you a good 
 man ! " 
 
 There, when the first flush of sunrise gilded the top 
 of the mighty beeches in front of Belhaven, the brothers 
 parted, and never sunrise' witnessed parting more ten- 
 der. In a perfect tempest of grief Tom threw^ himself 
 into Joe's arms, and clung to him until the latter, 
 gently disengaging himself, mounted his horse and 
 rode slowly down the avenue. Tom watched him until 
 a turn in the road hid both horse and rider, then, with 
 a passionate longing to see his brother once more, he 
 ran across the field by a near cut, and hiding in the 
 sedge by the old negro graveyard, saw Joe ride slowly 
 past, and heard his clear tenor voice singing: 
 
 " I dream of Jennie, and my heart bows low, 
 Never more to meet her where the wild waters flow." 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE DEAD ROLL OF SHILOH, 
 
 T T 7H0 can tell how sad and lonesome our Tom was 
 when the farewells had been said ! All that day, 
 and for many days thereafter, he' wandered about the 
 farm, and seemed to be looking for something he could 
 never find ; nor did he rouse from that listless condi- 
 tion until there came a long letter from Joe, telling all 
 about his new life in the camp of instruction. The 
 company had been incorporated into a regiment, and, 
 with many others, had pitched their tents for a short 
 season at Camp Moore, in the pine hills of eastern 
 Louisiana. Here they drilled and frolicked, sang and 
 danced, as if it were indeed a picnic — yet all the while 
 complaining that they had no taste of war. Oh ! 
 could they have foreseen the horrors which awaited 
 them, or caught but one glimpse of the bloody stream 
 that must flow until all the land was in mourning ! 
 It is a kindly ordering of Providence that shuts out 
 the future from our knowdedge, and we move on through 
 life, singing for very joy, until suddenly the end comes. 
 Better for us to sing and carry a laughing face, with a 
 light heart, for the end will come, be we sad or gay. 
 The man who laughs — we mean the man whose laugh 
 is pleasant and natural — is always welcome. Even if 
 
 (52) 
 
THE DEAD ROLL OF SHILOH. 53 
 
 we know him to be a rascal, we to a certain extent for- 
 give him for the pleasure he bestows; at all events, we 
 don't cross over to the other side of the street w^hen we 
 see him a block away. 
 
 Tom's parents appealed to him to cheer up, and take 
 Joe's place on the farm. The poor fellow did his best, 
 and, assuming the duties of that position, his old-time 
 cheerfulness returned; he became manlier and more 
 thoughtful, was more considerate of others, and in 
 short — this assumption of responsibility did by Tom as 
 it does by nine out of ten boys — made a man of him. 
 He gave up going barefooted about this time, although 
 he dearly loved a freedom from the tyranny of shoe 
 leather, and he avers to this day that there are few 
 pleasures more exquisite than making barefoot tracks 
 in the newly-plowed soil. There is nothing esthetic 
 in such pleasures. They are " of the earth, earthy." 
 
 Our young man did not quit off permanently, 
 although he made repeated trials, until one afternoon 
 upon a neighborhood road he w^as suddenly captured by 
 a party of mischievous girls under the leadership of Jen- 
 nie, who badgered him unmercifully until his barefeet 
 were almost as crimson as his face. The girls were too 
 lady-like to seem to notice the absence of Tom's shoes but 
 he missed them, and w^ould have swapped his hopes of 
 being a soldier for a pair of cavalry boots — yes, for 
 even a home-made brogan. He would fain have called 
 upon the pine trees to fa.ll on him and hide him from 
 those exasperating girls. When he finally escaped and 
 had gotten to a safe distance he muttered — " Confound 
 
54 TOM AN-D JOE. 
 
 them ! I'll bet a thousand dollars they won't catch me in 
 that fix any more." He never went bare-footed again. 
 
 The war was now raging in earnest and soon the 
 whole Southland was thrilled with news of tba great 
 victory at Manassas. The people went wild with 
 enthusiasm, and while hundreds of families were bur- 
 dened with sorrow for their loved dead, they rejoiced 
 that those loved ones fell in the hour of triumph. No 
 words can depict the exultation and mad joy of the 
 entire people. Men who had doubted our ability to 
 cope w^ith the North now shouted themselves hoarse in 
 the mighty chorus of victory. Well for the brave boys 
 who perished at Manassas that their young lives went out 
 under a rising sun, while the birds were yet singing 
 and no thought of disaster disturbed the dream of 
 empire. Other battles were fought and other victories 
 were won, but never again were the Confederates to 
 steep their very souls in triumph, for when week after 
 week, and month after month, the armies rushed 
 against each other with stubborn fury, it was found 
 that the people of the North were fighting with a 
 determination that no disaster could appall. When 
 tliey found that^ninety days'was a maddening delusion, 
 and " On to Richmond " the death-knell of magnifi- 
 cent armies, they went to work to win, and the world 
 witnessed the most stupendous struggle of modern 
 times, or stood aghast while brothers tore each other's 
 throats with the ferocity of wild beasts. 
 
 Joe went off to the army of Tennessee. He had 
 been under fire several times, but his first banquet of 
 
THE DEAD BOLL OF SHILOH. 55 
 
 blood was on that memorable Sunday morning at 
 Shiloh. How they broke the Federal line of battle ; 
 how they stormed battery after battery; how they 
 drove the enemy pell-mell to the bank of the river ; 
 how their great leader fell in the hour of victory, and 
 how a halt was called when one more brave rush 
 would have secured the fruits of that day's carnage, are 
 all matters of history. We shall not invade its sacred 
 precincts. The solemn facts of all time are therein re- 
 corded, and it deals only with public men or things, while 
 our story tells but the simple lives of two bo3^s who 
 loved each other, and did their duty in an humble way. 
 
 When the news came that the Feliciana boys had 
 been in a great battle there was the most intense excite- 
 ment. The scenes witnessed in the little town of Clin- 
 ton had a thousand counterparts all over the North and 
 South during four weary years. Loved ones waiting 
 for news of absent loved ones; fathers and mothers 
 anxious about a soldier son ; a wife fearfully listening 
 for the truth about her husband ; children weepingand 
 wondering on account of their father; the maiden 
 blushing and trembling as she inquires the fate of her 
 gallant lover. God preserve us all from a repetition 
 of such scenes. Once in a lifetime is once too often. 
 
 The matter was now coming home to the Feliciana 
 people and they crowded into town to learn the news. 
 Tom went early Tuesday morning anxious to learn the 
 fate of Joe and other young friends who were known to 
 have been in the battle. The telegraph office was 
 upstairs, and some loud-voiced man stood at the win- 
 
56 TOM AND JOE. 
 
 dow, a living bulletin-board, to let the people hear the 
 messages as they were ticked off. The street was 
 densely packed with all sorts and conditions of people, 
 all breathless with attention. Suddenly a great silence 
 falls upon the crowd as the party at the window begins 
 to read. Hush! Listen! 
 
 "A great battle! Yankee hirelings routed! Im- 
 mense stores captured or destroyed. Glory and honor 
 to the boys in grey." 
 
 Thus on for many minutes was the crowd enter- 
 tained, and, as one wild statement followed another, 
 men and boys broke into shouts. A hoarse roar of 
 approval swept over the throng, and hurrah followed 
 hurrah, but this was only the orchestral crash before 
 the curtain rose upon the tragedy. 
 
 Next came a telegram from Colonel Fisher, giving the 
 details that appealed directly to the hearts of all pres- 
 ent. It read as follows : 
 
 "Our regiment was closely engaged in the fight both 
 Sunday and Monday, and our boys sustained the proud 
 reputation that Louisianians have already made on the 
 battle-fields of Virginia. They were among the first 
 into the enemy's camp on Sunday morning, and fought 
 with honor all day. During the bloody conflict of 
 Monday they stood like veterans, capturing a battery 
 of three pieces and one stand of colors. I am sorry to 
 report heavy losses both in killed and wounded. We 
 lost twenty-seven men on Sunday and fifty-three dur- 
 ing the frightful carnage of the next day. Company A 
 lost its gallant Captain Hargrove, who was shot through 
 
THE DEAD ROLL OP SHILOH. 57 
 
 the head within twenty yards of the hattery and died 
 instantly. [A voice from the crowd, ' God rest his soul, 
 for he was a noble man.'] Sergeant John Holconib 
 was killed early Sunday, and brave little Willie Man- 
 son fell at the head of the regiment bearing its colors." 
 
 There was a faint, sad cry heard from the opposite 
 side of the street, and the dead boy's sister Alice was 
 carried fainting away. Name after name was called 
 among the dead until it told of thirteen of the home 
 boys who would never come back. Tom will never 
 forget the fearful fascination .of that voice calling the 
 dead-roll of Shiloh. Cry after cry of sorrow and pity 
 arose from the crowd as they heard some well-known 
 name announced among the slain. 
 
 Poor Martha Willis had been haunting the telegraph 
 office since dawn, waiting with heavy heart to hear from 
 Robert, and now, when the closing words of the report 
 read : "Robert Willis was mortally wounded, and died 
 Sunday night," she cried in her agony: " Oh, Robert, 
 my darling ! They enticed you off to the wars with 
 their fine words about patriotism, and now you are 
 dead. My Robert, dead on the cruel battle-field and 
 your poor wounded face without a coffin ! How can I 
 spare you, Robert? Our little home was so bright and 
 happy. Oh, Robert I Robert ! my murdered darling !" 
 
 In her agony the poor girl forgot that her husband 
 was responsible for his own acts and had joined the 
 army without any compulsion. 
 
 Tom heard many sad things that day, and when the 
 reading of the reports was over, climbed down from the 
 
58 TOM AND JOE. 
 
 horse-rack, where he had taken his stand to see and 
 hear, convinced that war was a terrible thing, and 
 happy that Joe's name was not upon the awful list. 
 Who can ever forget the horrible fascination that draws 
 one to listen to the dead-roll of a battle, especially 
 when a loved one is there whose fate is still uncertain? 
 Tom went home dazed, and yet longing to be with Joe — 
 painfully yearning for the wild revelry of battle. He 
 had no desire to kill anybody, and he never dreamed 
 of being killed. His heart was as tender as a girl's, 
 and no suffering chick or lamed pig but appealed suc- 
 cessfully to his warmest sympathies. He would never 
 wantonly shoot one of nature's songsters, and would 
 step aside lest he crushed the worm in his path, but 
 there arose in his bosom a desire to do some startling 
 and heroic thing, such as capturing a gunboat or storm- 
 ing a battery. Of course, he expected to have to hew 
 his way, with a good saber, through crowded columns 
 of Yankees, and doubtless many unfortunate men 
 would perish in his path, yet, without one blood- 
 thirsty thought, they were regarded as necessary obsta- 
 cles to his ambition which must be removed. Tom 
 was yet at that age when all glory and honor was to 
 
 be laid at the feet of father and mother, but later on 
 
 yes, later on, we shall see who will come amid the 
 glories and flowers of spring-time, to take the measure 
 of his boyish heart and entangle his soul amid the 
 meshes of her sunny hair. We shall see you tremble 
 with happiness, dear Tom, and we shall feel for you 
 when the waves of sorrow roll over you, wild as the 
 sweep of an ocean tempest. 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 GOODNIGHT, 
 
 J] FEW years prior to the war, there came into the 
 ^ neighborhood where our boys lived a man whose 
 manner was so different from the ways of that people 
 that he became at once an object of interest, and of no 
 little curiosity. Of gigantic form, and carrying, or 
 rather being carried, by what old Uncle Zeb called "de 
 most ongodliest pair o' foots," he was a source of end- 
 less amusement to the boys — of ridicule, also, until 
 they learned to know him. His face was a true index 
 to his character — honest and kindly, strong and deter- 
 mined, yet lacking the polish of the higher social and 
 intellectual life, and his dress was not after any style 
 that was ever seen in the drawing-room. No one could 
 ever imagine him dressed otherwise than in copperas 
 breeches and a coat of dirty brown. If he ever wore a 
 white shirt he kept the f^ict a profound secret. It 
 must not be supposed that he was slovenly in his dress, 
 or lacked neatness in his person. On the contrary, his 
 clothing was kept clean, although it might offend the 
 esthetic eye, and his hair, while long, after the fashion 
 of those days, was never unkempt. Clothes do not 
 make the man, but there are some styles of clothing 
 and men that are inseparable. 
 
 (59) 
 
60 TOM AND JOE. 
 
 This man came afoot into Louisiana, carrying a little 
 bundle, and upon his shoulder a very long small- 
 bore rifle. He had some money with him, but there 
 had been small occasion to use it, for in those days a 
 man could travel, on foot or horseback, from Texas to 
 Maryland at no expense for living, nor was he regarded 
 a tramp, and expected to chop stove-wood for his break- 
 fast. The old-time hospitality of the South was such 
 that a man who made a traveler pay for a night's lodg- 
 ing was considered stingy. They had not then learned 
 to call it thrift, and to refuse to entertain the stranger was 
 regarded a small meanness. It would be a little hazard- 
 ous now to attempt such a trip without money, and the 
 tramp is in constant danger of a conflict with dogs. 
 
 When Caleb Knight, in his wanderings, reached the 
 old Jefford place, one of the earliest settlements, which 
 for some cause had been abandoned, he found there a 
 small house of two rooms, which, being quite habita- 
 ble, seemed to suit his fancy, and without any cere- 
 mony he took possession. Being expert with tools, 
 which he was able to borrow from the carpenter of a 
 neighboring plantation, lie soon made such repairs as 
 were necessary, and rigged up such articles of furniture 
 as were requisite to his modest wants. With the 
 judicious expenditure of a little money, he procured 
 a supply of such things as he could not make, getting 
 them hauled out from town by a kindly darkey who 
 was returning with an empty wagon. 
 
 In that quiet neighborhood the advent of a stranger 
 was a matter of considerable speculation, and, as we 
 
GOOD-NIGHT. Gl 
 
 have stated, the neighbors became very much inter- 
 ested in this man ; for no such specimen could be found 
 from "Possum Corner," in the northwest, to "Pig 
 Trot," in the extreme southeastern portion of the par- 
 ish. After the manner of the old Bible stories specula- 
 tion begat rumor, rumor begat suspicion, and suspicion 
 begat report, until it was generally supposed that this 
 man Caleb was a bloody Abolitionist in disguise, for 
 whom a rope with the hangman's knot was the proper 
 thing. The question became a burning one, for if he 
 w^ere allowed to remain who knew but they would all 
 " wake up some morning and find themselves dead ; " 
 so it came about, as a result of these wild rumors, that 
 within ten days after this stranger had settled himself 
 he was waited upon by a committee of citizens to 
 inquire into his business and intentions. This com- 
 mittee had been selected at an informal meeting held 
 under the great beech tree in front of the country church, 
 while the good people were waiting for the preaching 
 hour to arrive, and was composed of Colonel DuPree, 
 Judge Mabry, and Major Carter — a very dignified and 
 imposing trio, we may well imagine, and well calcula- 
 ted to make any evil-doer tremble in his shoes, no mat- 
 ter how large. 
 
 Bright and early on Monday morning those gentle- 
 men met as agreed at the cross-roads and proceeded on 
 their errand of investigation. They felt fully as impor- 
 tant as does the average "Congressional committee" 
 when venturing now-a-days into the untamed South 
 in search of political outrages, and probably suffered 
 
62 TOM AND JOE. 
 
 equal trepidation, but they -went forward bravely and 
 soon found Caleb seated under the wide-spreading 
 branches of a mighty oak near his cottage, very busily 
 engaged in making a cane fish-trap. Now these traps 
 are quite simple in their construction, yet requiring 
 some skill to make properly, and when carefully placed 
 in the creek rarely fail to reward the owner, or some 
 poacher, with a mess of perch or suckers. They are 
 formed of the long reed canes that grow near the water, 
 are cylindrical in shape, being fastened around oak or 
 hickory hoops with some stringy bark for wrapping 
 twine, and one end is left open with a funnel-shaped 
 throat through which the fish enter. This throat is so 
 arranged that the fish can pass in readily, but in trying 
 to return they find it easier to pass by the opening than 
 go through it. 
 
 Eiding up to the spot where the trap-builder w^as 
 seated, Judge Mabry, who was spokesman for the party, 
 opened the momentous discussion by saying : " Good 
 morning, Mr. Knight." Very pleasantly Caleb responded 
 to this tremendous salutation : 
 
 "Same to you all, gentulraen. Git down and let 
 your tackles rest, an' we'll git a'quainted. Powerful 
 warm for so soon in the season, an' I reckon this sum- 
 mer's gwinter be a regler scorcher in this hot climit." 
 
 The committee, seeing that their man was not slow 
 to talk, dismounted, and found comfortable seats in the 
 shade. 
 
 " Well, gentulmen, I'm powerful glad to see you. 
 Here I've been for two weeks an' not a white man have 
 
GOOD-NIGHT. 63 
 
 I seed except now an' then one passing along the big 
 road. I like good, quiet kind of people who 'tends to 
 their own business, and I like to live away out here in 
 the kuntry. Lawd help me, but I wouldn't live in 
 town for no inducements. Why, sir, I went down to 
 Wilmington away yonder last summer an' I aint hardly 
 got over it yet, sech a rattle of kyarts an' tootin of whis- 
 sels was enuf to give a man the bline-staggers. Unly 
 stayed there two days when I lit out fer the mountins 
 whar I camped an' hunted fer three weeks, jest to steddy 
 my nerves like. Did either of you men ever go to 
 Wilmington ? No ! Well, gentulmen, that is a town 
 fer you. Sech a rale tare-up and smash-out noise, an' 
 hubbub, and hooraw you never heard, ceppen you've 
 been through a saw-mill in full tilt, knocken nots an 
 winshakes right an' left. Give me the kuntry every 
 time, an' I'll live or die'a-tryin'." 
 
 It looked like the interviewers had caught a hungry 
 parrot, until in one lucky moment Caleb paused a little 
 to turn his trap and insert a fresh piece of bark- warp, 
 when Judge Mabry rushed to the charge: 
 
 " We came over this morning, Mr. Knight, to get 
 acquainted with you and find out something about you. 
 These are troublous times and many suspicious stran- 
 gers are roaming through [the country — some as ped- 
 dlers, and some in the guise of book-agents. We wish 
 to locate you properly, and if you are all right we will 
 make it very 'pleasant for you " — ''An' ef I aint all right, 
 you are gwinter make it hot fer me I reckon," inter- 
 posed Caleb. 
 
64 TOM AND JOE. 
 
 "Oh, no doubt you are all right," resumed the 
 Judge; "but I should judge from your remarks about 
 Wilmington that you are from that section of the coun- 
 try — possibly from Pennsylvania." 
 
 " Whar's that you say I'm frum ? Pen-Pen-Pensyl- 
 vany ? Why, doggone my skin, that's a Yankee State, 
 an' you mean to let on that I'm a Yankee, do you ? 
 Well, I kin jess nacherly wallop the hindsights off of 
 any three men in this ole allegater State what sez I'm 
 frum any sech a kuntry. I'm from the free State of ole 
 North Carliney, I am, an' I dont keer who knows it. I 
 wus born only about twenty steps frum the blessed old 
 French Broad river, an' I lived for thirty years whar 
 I could be in a swimmin one minit an' the next minit 
 could clime up nearer to Heaven than any of j^ou will 
 ever git. I'm a regler tar-heel, I am, an' hevn't hed 
 my hans free from rossum a week at a time, fer twenty 
 years. If ever I go back on the ole State I hope that 
 some bigger man than I am will up an' call me a Yankee 
 peddler." 
 
 Caleb was very touchy on tlie subject of his nativity, 
 and had that native Southern antipathy to the name 
 "Yankee." In fact, for many years it was a term of 
 reproach that was a deadly insult when applied to one 
 born South, and must be atoned for. The giant's 
 wrath was aroused, and, rising to his feet, he doubled 
 his mighty fists like two great hams, and as^suming an 
 attitude of defiance, invited the committee to "wade 
 right in an' git mashed." His usually passive face 
 was lighted with pugilistic fires, and his immense 
 
GOOD-NIGHT. 65 
 
 feet were planted upon the earth with the power of 
 Enceladus. 
 
 Our titled gentlemen were all alarmed at these war- 
 like demonstrations, and hastened to disclaim any 
 intentional offense. They also very promptly declined 
 the invitation to " wade in," and Colonel DuPree inter- 
 posed with : 
 
 " Why, friend Knight, you certainly misunderstood 
 the Judge. He was not trying to make game of you 
 or your State. There are two Wilmingtons — one in 
 Delaware and the other in North Carolina. Of course, 
 the Delaware town doesn't begin to compare with your 
 North Carolina city — should not be mentioned during 
 the same day — but it's a rattling good town, and a 
 man needn't be ashamed to say he lived there. You 
 may rest easy on the Yankee question, my good man, 
 for no one with a half an eye would ever charge you 
 with such nativity. We are your friends, Mr. Knight, 
 and you may depend upon us." 
 
 "Well, ser," replied Caleb, ''I know'd it was agin rea- 
 son for sech pleasant-faced gentlemen as you all 'pear 
 to be to poke fun at a poor fellow like me, much less 
 layin' sech charges agin me as bein' a Yankee, but when 
 you sed I wus from that outlandish country with the 
 long name I w^as riled all of a sudden. I'm from old 
 North Carliney, I am, an' I don't keer who know^s it." 
 
 "We are very glad, Mr. Knight, to know that you 
 are from the noble old. State of North Carolina, the 
 very home of freedom and the American eagle," replied 
 the Judge. " I am from South Carolina, myself, and 
 
66 TOM AND JOE. 
 
 am proud to acknowledge it. I had the honor to be 
 present on that memorable occasion wlien the famous 
 remark was made about the length of time between 
 drinks. The Governors of both States were present, but 
 I am not certain wdiich one was father to that historic 
 remark ; it is enough to know that the time didn't grow 
 any longer. I never drink, and did not personally 
 applaud the sentiment, but most of those present con- 
 sidered that discussion the very essence of eloquence." 
 
 Caleb looked at the Judge with an incredulous smile 
 upon his honest face and remarked : 
 
 " Law, law, Jedge — if you could jest take one fair 
 swig of the mountin dew we fabricates up in the hills 
 of ole North Carliney, you never w^ould draw another 
 sober breath w^hile you live — exceppen you wus a mighty 
 strong 'terminated man." 
 
 The party had settled down again on friendly terms 
 but the committeemen were at a loss how to proceed. 
 They could not see their way to any further investiga- 
 tion of Caleb's history without the risk of another 
 explosion, and in fact his blunt ways with quaint hon- 
 esty of expression had impressed them favorably. They 
 realized the fact that they had stumbled upon a char- 
 acter different from anything they had known. They 
 remained seated in the shade, and Major Carter com- 
 mented upon the build and usefulness of fish-traps. 
 He told how his son Bob had brought in as fine a mess 
 of goggle-eyed perch and blue-cat, "one morning last 
 week" as he had ever seen, and Colonel DuPree dis- 
 cussed the prospects of the cotton crop. He declared 
 
GOOD-NIGHT. 67 
 
 that the young plant was "growing so rapidly these 
 recent warm days" that he should put a dozen hands 
 to chopping out the blue-gum field the next morning. 
 Judge Mabry said that his son Joe had killed a wild gob- 
 bler with a beard ten inches long, on tlie last Saturday 
 morning, and that the great bird was so fat it furnished 
 its own grease in cooking. When the committee had 
 all spoken they seemed to be at their wit's end. A 
 good alligator story or a twenty-one rattled rattlesnake 
 would have been a godsend to the party, but the spirit 
 of anecdote would not come at their call, and conversa- 
 tion began to fail. 
 
 About this time Caleb finished wrapping the trap 
 and came to their relief by suddenly springing the 
 question which had brought him these unexpected vis- 
 itors. He said : 
 
 "I calkerlate, gentulmen, that I can guess what 
 brought you all here to-day, and I'm gwinter tell you 
 what you wanter know, so as to save your feelins. You 
 wanter find out whar I come from an' about what I'm 
 gwinter do. Well, I've told you I'm from ole North 
 Carliney, an' I don't keer who knows it. Jist why I am 
 here is what you don't know, an' hev been too perlite 
 to ax me, but if you all will promise me not to talk it 
 'round I'll tell you what made me skin out from ole 
 North Carliney and live here in a style unbecomin enny 
 white man. Shore nuff now, gentulmen, will you keep 
 my story?" 
 
 The committee agreed, and assured him that any 
 statement he might make would be kept inviolate. 
 
68 ' TOM AND JOE. 
 
 "Very well, then, gentulmen, make yourselves easy 
 on that log an' I'll tell you how come you see me here. 
 I don't look like a man what would have enny luv 
 trubbles, do I, Kernel?" 
 
 "Why," responded the astonished Colonel, "I am 
 sure I don't see why you shouldn't full in love as well 
 as any one else. You are not more than thirty years 
 old, and any man of your age is liable to the tender 
 passion if he meets a charming girl. I have known 
 more unlikely cases than yours— old white-headed men 
 sometimes make fools of themselves about women. 
 You are big enough to fall in love." 
 
 "Now you're shoutin', ole boss! (beg your pardon,) 
 an' enny man expressin' sech sound doctrine as that will 
 do to go on a camp hunt. You are my friend, Kernel, 
 an' you, Jedge, an' you. Major, an' I'm your'n to count 
 on in enny part of the mountins." Here he gave each 
 one of his visitors a tremendous grip of the hand and 
 continued : 
 
 " As I was gwinter say, I'm from old North Carliney, 
 an' I don't keer who knows it. I left there kinder 
 onexpected like, all on account of old man Warner's 
 gal, Susan, but she was the notablest gal in all that 
 kuntry for forty miles, up and down the French 
 Broad, an' j^ou know, gentulmen, that is the purtiest 
 river that ever run down hill. 
 
 "Ole man Warner — that's Susan's daddy — kep the 
 boss still of the mountins, I tell you, an' it wus shore- 
 nuf whisky, without enny 'dulterations, also, gen-tul- 
 men, she was a shore-nuf gal, without enny make-up. 
 
GOOD-NIGHT. 69 
 
 Well, ser, I kep comp'ny with Susan right peart all 
 last summer, an' on until tobacco-curing time, an' it 
 'peared to me that I wus jest as good as son-in-law to 
 the old man, but you caint always tell. Gals is awful 
 oncertain, an' there's no knowin' when you've got 'em. 
 Sometimes, even when the preacher has tied the knot, 
 an' you are shore you've got 'em, it turns out that 
 they've got you instead. One night, along in October, 
 there wus a big party over on the creek about ten 
 miles, at Jim Whalley's, an' if you'll b'leeve me, gen- 
 telmen, that gal never let me tech her. Whenever I 
 cum nigh her she wus that skittish an' scornful-like I 
 jest went away an' left her, but she danced seven sets 
 with a red-complected feller named Pete Brownlow, an' 
 the way she smiled on him wus plum agrivatin'. She 
 would look so pleased whenever he cum about her it 
 made me mad, an' I dubbled up my lists untel they 
 lied the cramps. Oh ! I tell j^ou I wus howlin' mad, 
 an' about midnight I Avent home, but I never slep' a 
 wink. I walked about the yard for a hour or two, an' 
 then I climed away up onto a big rock on the mount'in 
 side, where I looked fust up to the stars away yonder 
 in the hevens, a-shinin' an' a-glitterin', then I looked 
 down into the river, where it sloshed an' tumbled over 
 the rock. The stars wus a-shinin' and a-glitterin' 
 down there. Gentulmen, I hed murder in my heart 
 wheu I clim'ed up onto that rock, for I know'd that 
 Pete Brownlow had been liein' to Susan about me, but 
 after awhile the world seemed so still that my wrath 
 settled down, The ugly spirit left me, an' I felt as cam 
 
70 TOM AND JOE. 
 
 as if there warn't a gal in the whole universe of God. 
 Kernel, I don't see how any man can go out under the 
 stars at night an' keep ugly things in his heart — they 
 seem to me like a thousand eyes looking me right 
 through and through. 
 
 '* Next day I met Pete 'gwine up the road toward ole 
 man Warner's house, an gentulmen, the devil wus in 
 me biggern a mule in less time 'n 'twould take you to 
 say * scat.^ I stopt him right in the road an told him * 
 he hed been liein'to Susan about me, an' I wusgwinter 
 wallop the very gizzard outen him. He was a spunky 
 fellow an' 'sputed it. He low'd I wus only jellus because 
 Susan perferred a decent sized man like him to a great 
 overgrown he-bar like me, an' he sed no likely young 
 gal like Susan could luv a man what wore number 
 fourteen boots. I know I've got a big foot, but, Kernel, 
 do you think that ought to be ennything agin a man 
 in a gal's affections ? " 
 
 *' By no means, " responded the Colonel ; " you are 
 a very large man and a small foot would not serve 
 your purposes, besides, only silly girls and sillier boys 
 worry about large feet." 
 
 " Well, gentulmen," resumed Caleb, " the devil in me 
 got bigger an' bigger untel I coulder mashed Pete right 
 then an' thar, so I told him to prepare his feelens for the 
 durndest whoopin that enny red-headed man ever got. 
 He wern't afraid, not one bit, but he low'd I wus too big 
 for him an' he wouldn't hev no fair showin' in a rough- 
 and-tumble rukus, so I told him jest to tie my right- 
 hand behiue my buck au' let the row begin. Gentulmen, 
 
GOOD-NIGHT. 71 
 
 you bet he tied it tite, an' then before you could say 
 ^scat^ two times he waltzed around in front of me an' 
 hit me sech a dip in the stumuck that I couldn't hear 
 it thunder for about two minits. You better believe 
 me he wus a wiry fellow, an' that active that I had 
 most as well try to hit a weasel. The way he danced 
 around me an' hit me wus a caution to fools, an' I begin 
 to think that maby I hed made a fool of myself shore- 
 nuf in hitchin up my best arm, but bimeby I got a 
 chance to soc him one with my left-fist, an' 'ser, he went 
 to grass. Did you ever see a big fox-squirrel drap 
 when my ole rifle speaks-out ? Gentulmen, the devil 
 wus in me awful big when I hit Pete that lick, but 
 when he tumbled over the bluff that skirts that moun- 
 tin road, an' I heard him roll down shakin' the bushes 
 an' rattlin the rocks as he went, if you bleeve me, the 
 old devil was gone in a minit ! I believe you kin skeer 
 the devil outen a man quickern you kin preach him out, 
 an' when you take fire an' brimstone outen the here- 
 after you lose your grip on many a likely young church 
 member." 
 
 This doctrine of Caleb's is yet orthodox with most 
 of the churches, but many of the ministry are hid- 
 ing it away on a shelf alongside that awful dogma 
 of "infant damnation." May we not in getting rid 
 of a future hell run the risk of finding it in this 
 life? 
 
 "When the noise of Pete's fallin' hushed," said Caleb, 
 "I felt that faint and sick-like about the stumuck — 
 worsen when he hit me that fust lick, but I run round 
 
72 TOM AND JOE. 
 
 to a little cow-path down the hill an' away down 
 towards the bottom I found hiinlayin there pale-lookin 
 and still. I pulled him the best I could with my one 
 hand into a more cumferbler position, then I brought 
 sum water in my hat frum the creek an' poured on his 
 face, but he wouldn't cum to. I did feel so bad about 
 it, though I knowd I didn't mean to kill him shore nuf. 
 I hit him like I wus gwinter bust him plum open be- 
 cause I wus mad, but now I wus awful sorry ; so after 
 a while when I could see there wus life in him still, I 
 felt easier an' concluded to git some help. 
 
 " I lit out up the road towards ole man Warner's, 
 which was the nighest house, an' on the way I met lit- 
 tle Si Owens — he wus a sort of a half-fool of a boy an' 
 didn't have no sense — an' I got him to cut the string 
 that belt my right hand so I wouldn't appear so re- 
 dickerlus in case I met any sensible peepul. If you 
 bleeve me the little fool lafFed an' laffed untel I felt like 
 slappin the seven senses outen him, but I didn't do it, 
 an' went on untel I struck the AVarner gate. The first 
 purson I seed wus Susan a settin on the piazzer doin 
 sum sorter soin. She made like she didn't see me an' 
 you bet that riled me, so I up an' told her that if she 
 would go down there jest under the bluff she would 
 find her luvey-duvey,Peetsy-weetsy, a layin there with 
 his whole frame onjinted. You see the devil wus a 
 gitten back into me his full size, an' wus rather crowdin 
 me, so I didn't keer much what I sed. I noticed she 
 turned fust mighty red an' then mighty white, an' then 
 she got red agin shore nuf. A rale mad woman gits 
 
GOOD-NIGHT. 73 
 
 mighty red in the face an' don't always look purty as 
 she oughter. 
 
 "Susan fired up tremenjously an' told me I wus a 
 fool. I knowed that much already, so I warn't 
 alarmed, but when she told me to take my big feet 
 away from there, or let' em carry me off, 'fore she turned 
 ole Bulger loose, I got mad. Gentulmen, that Bulger 
 wus a awful dog an' I concluded to go, but as I backed 
 off from the gate I told her she had better go down 
 with sum help to Pete, an' if she found him alive, which 
 warn't likely, tell him to be forever keerful how he run 
 agin the fist of a left-handed man. 
 
 "I aint seed Susan since, an' I reckon I never will see 
 her enny more, but, gentulmen, she wus a likely young 
 woman. I made strate home from thar, got my rifle, 
 a few close, and what little money I had, and struck 
 out towards the settin' sun. You bleeve me, I've walked 
 over a power of country since last October, untel now 
 I am settled down here, whar I mean to stay if my 
 nabors w^ll let me. 
 
 " Now, sers, you know about all I can tell you, an' if 
 you aint satisfied I'll jog on." 
 
 There were tears in the poor fellow's eyes when he 
 finished his story, to which the committee had listened 
 with unflagging interest. No one seeing his honest face 
 and hearing his straightforward way of telling what 
 causes led to his present location could doubt his truth, 
 and when our friends rode away they agreed that there 
 was no harm in him, and that with a little encourage- 
 ment he might become quite a useful citizen. 
 4 
 
74 TOM AND JOE. 
 
 Thus it came about that our man was left to dwell 
 in peace, and many little useful articles were added to 
 his comfort. The Judge gave him a cow and calf, and 
 Colonel DuPree offered him a pony to ride, but Caleb 
 thanked him, saying he could get over more ground in 
 one day than any pony outside of old " North Carliney." 
 
 "Ef I wus to try to ride that critter," he mused, 
 "when I straightened out my legs it would walk right 
 out from under me, an' if I should ride it one hour 
 I'd hev to tote it the next, so I better let it alone." 
 
 He soon became a great favorite with tlie grown-up 
 boys of the neighborhood and many were the hunting 
 and fishing frolics he took with them; but for a camp 
 hunt Caleb was a "whole team," and could furnish 
 more genuine amusement around the fire at night than 
 a whole corps of minstrels. He could sing the queerest 
 songs and tell the funniest stories that the boys had 
 ever heard, nor could anybody equal him in undress- 
 ing the game and preparing choice bits for supper. 
 
 If the boys were fond of Caleb he was no less fond of 
 them, and our Joe seemed to be his especial favorite. 
 It was amusing to observe the intimacy between the 
 bright boy of fifteen and this great double-sized man. 
 The contrast was not greater between David and Mr. 
 Micawber, but two years later when Joe donned the 
 gray uniform he had attained the stature of a man, and 
 people who knew the sterling merit of each ceased to 
 wonder at the strange companionship. While Caleb 
 was really poor as regarded property and education, so 
 great was his moral worth, so uncompromising his 
 
GOOD-NIGHT. 75 
 
 integrity, and so utterly was he devoid of sycophancy, 
 or any species of servility, that his companionable pres- 
 ence was always welcome in the proudest homes of the 
 neighborhood. His uncouth language was pardoned 
 because of the excellent sense he always displayed in 
 conversation. The girls all adored him, in a friendly 
 way, and never made fun of him. The boys counted 
 on him always. 
 
 He had some peculiar notions about the negro w^hich 
 would hardly have been tolerated in another person. 
 One day Colonel DuPree offered him the position of 
 overseer, or manager, of his immense plantation at a 
 good salary, but the great-hearted fellow declined, and 
 gave his reasons thus : 
 
 "I am obleeged to you, Kernel, for the offer, but I 
 caint accept. I aint the right sort of man, an' couldn't 
 do you no good. I never wus used to niggers nohow, 
 for in the mountins of ole North Carliney they wus skaser 
 than planners, an' I don't know much about 'em. 
 Then there's another thing — I have hyearn that to 
 keep a nigger strate you've got to whup him. I aint 
 no doubt in my mind from what I've seed of the nig- 
 ger that he needs a heap of whupin, but I never could 
 have the heart to whup a purson who dasent fite back. 
 I don't mind wolloping a mean white man, nor a mean 
 nigger nuther if so be he specially needs it, but he must 
 have a fightin chance." 
 
 Caleb had unwittingly told the story — how shame- 
 ful it was to whip a poor wretch who could not light 
 back. 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 HO W THE OLD HOME DISAPPEARED. 
 
 71 T the battle of Shiloh our Joe was conspicuous for 
 {£^ his gallantry. Not that he was braver than thou- 
 sands of heroic men on that tremendous day, but when 
 his regiment was wavering under a wasting fire of 
 grape and canister he caught up the standard from the 
 dying hand of little Willie Manson, and stopping but 
 for a word of cheer to the noble boy, rushed to the head 
 of the column and encouraged the suffering troop to 
 more desperate efforts. For this act \\q was promised 
 promotion, but it never came until upon many a bloody 
 field he had established fully his right to advancement. 
 
 Events now crowded one upon another with fierce 
 earnestness until during the hot summer of 18G3 we 
 find Joe with his regiment where Johnston fronted 
 Grant at Mississippi's capital. He was getting to be an 
 old soldier now, at the mature age of nineteen, and had 
 seen enough of horrors to make him old in feeling as 
 well. 
 
 By some strange fate our young soldier's regiment 
 was in line in the yard and orchard of the old home, 
 and on the same ground where his boyhood had wit- 
 nessed many a mimic battle of boys, Joe was now to 
 take part in the death struggle of men. 
 
 (76) 
 
HOW THE OLD HOME DISAPPEARED. ll 
 
 One bright morning the enemy massed a powerful 
 force on the edge of the wood beyond the orchard — the 
 same wood where Joe and Tom used to gather hickory- 
 nuts or chinquapins in the autumn, and wild jessa- 
 mines, with violets, in the spring time — and under 
 cover of a tremendous artillery fire prepared to assault 
 the Confederate lines. Battery after battery joined in 
 the mighty duel, and as the heavy sound went boom- 
 ing down the Pearl valley the timid deer sought a 
 deeper covert and the hungry saurian bellowed his defi- 
 ance. Soon the sharp rattle of musketry in front told 
 that the advance was hard at it. Joe was near the old 
 well-house in the yard waiting with anxious determina- 
 tion for the bloody work so rapidly approaching, when 
 scher-r-r-r, crash ! and a twelve-pound shell broke 
 through the wall of the mansion and exploded in the 
 little corner room where our boys used to sleep, knock- 
 ing it into ruins and shaking the house from roof to 
 collar. Again and again the iron destruction burst 
 ilirough the walls until the dear old home was a piti- 
 ful ruin ; then as the flames joined in the work of 
 demolition Joe brushed away his tears, and grasping 
 his musket firmly, turned away to meet the coming foe. 
 Back with a rush came the skirmishers, followed by 
 the shouting enemy, and as they reached the shelter 
 of their own lines the battle joined in earnest. A per- 
 fect flame of fire swept out from the Confederate front, 
 piling the Federals in scores along the edge of the 
 orchard and for a moment checking their advance — 
 but only for a moment, when several brave officers 
 
78 TOM AND JOE. 
 
 rushed to the front, sword in hand, and encouraging 
 the men by word or example, the entire body, save the 
 dead and dying, swept grandly forward. But they 
 rushed only to destruction as those terrible volleys suc- 
 cessively broke their ranks, and ere they could reform 
 the Confederates were upon them with the bayonet, 
 completing the ruin of that splendid column which 
 emerged from the woods so gallantly a few minutes 
 before. 
 
 Thus did Joe see the last of the old home, and thus 
 did he help avenge its destruction. He bore himself 
 with more than usual courage that morning and never 
 knew how proud his homefolks were when they read 
 in the report of the battle : *' Sergeant Joseph Mabry, 
 for conspicuous gallantry in capturing a stand of colors, 
 is recommended for promotion" — nor was his modest 
 demeanor changed when he assumed the duties of first 
 lieutenant. 
 
 Jennie read the report in her far-away home and 
 wondered if her woman's judgment had not erred in 
 ascribing Joe's conduct in the valentine party episode 
 to a lack of courage, instead of a courage more sublime 
 than that age could appreciate. 
 
 The wave of war had brought Joe back to within 
 one hundred and fifty miles of Bclhaven,but bore him 
 as swiftly away ; then came more long marches, and 
 heroic fighting, until two months later we find him 
 still clinging to his musket all through two dreadful 
 days at Chickamauga. Here he did his duty with all 
 the headlonor valor of his ancestor who rode with 
 
HOW THE OLD HOME DISAPPEARED. 79 
 
 Marion one hundred years ago. Overwhelming vic- 
 tory remained with the Confederates, but the fearful 
 loss of life was a blow they felt unto the end. Such 
 determined courage was never surpassed on any field, 
 and the soldiers of both armies had no reason to be 
 ashamed of their prowess. It was a rare thing in those 
 old days for either army to Sad out the exact time 
 when it was whipped, and a great battle was generally 
 a series of charges and counter charges, of flight and 
 pursuit for a mile or more, then the pursuer in turn 
 put to flight and followed back over the same ground. 
 These things generally lasted a day or two, and occa- 
 sionally for several days, when the two armies would 
 settle down for a few weeks while the pickets would 
 pop away at each other, or swap coffee for tobacco. 
 
 Joe had been in many battles, and, while sometimes 
 meeting with reverses, the army had suffered no total 
 defeat, but the day was rapidly approaching when it 
 was to be overwhelmed and driven from its chosen 
 position in front of Chattanooga by the veterans of 
 Thomas and Grant. Never, in all the annals of the 
 war, were the Confederates so completely routed, and 
 that, too, when they were exulting in the hope that they 
 were about to complete the work so bravely begun at 
 Chickamauga. The Army of Tennessee had now to 
 cope with their old enemy whom they had whipped at 
 Shiloh, but who came in front of them here with the 
 proud new title, "Conqueror of Vicksburg." There 
 was a fearful conflict at Missionar}^ Eidge,but the Con- 
 federates fought as soldiers always fight when they find 
 
80 TOM AND JOE. 
 
 themselves outgeneraled. Military criticism is unavail- 
 ing. We must accept the verdict of history and ac- 
 knowledge a crushing defeat where we had been look- 
 ing for an overwhelming triumph. 
 
 Joe's regiment held its ground until bayonets were 
 clashing in front, and a blue column was sweeping 
 around on the flank; thdh came the supreme moment 
 when a soldier must determine to die at his post, or 
 take such action as will enable him to — 
 
 " Live to fight another day." 
 
 It is very easy to talk about dying heroically in front 
 of battle, thereby gaining much immediate praise and 
 straightway be forgotten, but to the average man it 
 seems quite uncomfortable and foolish — especially is 
 this so when no personal or public good can be accom- 
 plished by martyrdom. Robert Lee and his worn-out 
 veterans retreating to Appomattox form the sublimest 
 picture of any age. 
 
 To be a hero does not necessarily imply that a sol- 
 dier should never show his back to the foe. Sometimes 
 it is very prudent and eminently proper to do so, and, 
 in these days of long-range rifles, you want to make 
 the display at a great distance. The day for dying 
 merely to prove your courage is past — it sometimes 
 requires more courage to live. 
 
 Joe fought as he always did, even when a school-boy, 
 with his whole soul put into his work. When the Con- 
 federate line was broken he clubbed his musket, and, 
 whirling it about him with tremendous fury, knocked 
 
HOW THE OLD HOME DISAPPEARED. 81 
 
 aside more than one advancing bayonet. Slowly he 
 gave back before the advancing foe ; the stock of his 
 musket was soon broken, and upon one knee trying to 
 parry the thrust of a half score of bayonets, he thought 
 that for him the supreme moment had indeed arrived. 
 Can nothing save him? Must the brave boy perish in 
 the hour of defeat ? 
 
 Even as a gallant Federal officer sprang to protect 
 him from the steel of the soldiers, there came a ringing 
 crash as when a mighty hammer strikes the anvil and 
 shattered muskets are hurled to the earth. The blue 
 line is for a moment broken, a strong hand grasps Joe's 
 arm, and a familiar voice shouts in his ear: "Let's git 
 away from here, Joe!" The stroke that parried the 
 vengeful bayonets w^as from the powerful arm of Caleb 
 Knight, wielding the barrel of a broken rifle, and the 
 friendly voice was his. Then was seen some "tall 
 running" as Joe and Caleb sped down that fatal hill- 
 side and joined their comrades in a sullen stand that 
 checked the career of the victors, and inspired with 
 new courage the defeated army of Bragg. Without 
 the timely help of Caleb our Joe would have been 
 killed, or taken prisoner, but let us see how the giant 
 North Carolinian came so opportunely. 
 
 We have shown how in hunting and fishing frolics 
 Caleb had become much attached to our young soldier, 
 and when Joe joined Captain Hargrove's company, he 
 was present but could not be induced to become a 
 member. He had his own peculiar notions about the 
 war, and some of them were shared by a large propor- 
 
82 TOM AND JOE. 
 
 tion of the non-slaveholding element cf the South. 
 Many persons, like Judge jNhibry, opposed secession, 
 but yielded to the force of events and gave their alle- 
 giance to the State, and finally to the Confederacy. 
 Others considered the claims of the Union stronger 
 than the rights of the individual States, and many of 
 these found it extremely uncomfortable to remain in 
 the South — justly so, too, in most instances. There 
 were yet other thousands who entered the Federal 
 army and fought against their old-time neighbors. It 
 was the old story of a house divided and not able to 
 stand. 
 
 Caleb often visited at Judge Mabry's, and feeling 
 himself welcome would drop in at any time, bringing 
 a string of fish or a bag of squirrels, and occasionally 
 an old king gobbler whose beard trailed the ground. 
 On account of his excellent qualities the boys called 
 him "Goodnight" — a name bestowed upon him by 
 Joe, and which stuck to him ever afterwards. He 
 rather liked the name, so we shall try to remember the 
 fact as we go on. After Joe w^ent off to the army, he used 
 to come over to the Judge's quite often to make inquiries, 
 and would always have some pleasant word to send. 
 
 One afternoon near the end of ^lay, when all the 
 family were seated on the front gallery discussing events 
 and speculating on the future, the Judge asked Good- 
 night to tell him why he opi^osed the war and would 
 not become a soldier? 
 
 "Well, Jedge," responded the giant, "I ain't seed no 
 occasion for it yet. The United States is gooder nuf 
 
HOW THE OLD HOME DISAPPEARED. 83 
 
 fer me." "That's just what I said at first," interposed 
 Tom, "but I'm converted now, and I'll bet a thousand 
 dollars you are a rebel in less than a month." 
 
 **Tom, I seed a fox-squirrel in that big hickory down 
 at the corner as I cum up the road. Hadn't you better 
 go shoot it?" Then Goodnight resumed his statement: 
 "Ole North Carliney wus the first to start the family a 
 long time ago, so I don't yit feel no call to break up 
 the arrangement. I like to know what I'm fiten about 
 and then I kin peel off my coat and wade rite in fer 
 who last the longest. We poor folks think it's all a 
 rich man's war, an' onless we seed the good reason fer 
 it, we don't take no stock in it. I spose if we had lots 
 of niggers, like Kernel DuPree, an' tothers who are 
 gitten the row a goin, we mout look at it differnt, but 
 we ain't got the niggers, and we ain't gwinter fite fer 
 'em. Didn't you never notice, Jedge, that most people 
 think like it pays 'em to think?" 
 
 " Look here, Goodnight," responded the Judge, "if 
 the Yankees send down their soldiers and undertake 
 to destroy our property, or take aw^ay our liberties, 
 what are you going to do? You know I was a Union man, 
 and am one still if matters can be arranged, but if we are 
 invaded — and such seems to be the case in Virginia — 
 I am for fight, no matter how much I love our common 
 country. Now, sir, what are you going to do ? You 
 must take one side or the other, for there will be no 
 neutral position in this war." 
 
 "Well, now, Jedge, you looker here yourself. You 
 are a pinin' me down mighty close, an' you are a ser- 
 
84 TOM AND joe:. 
 
 posin' things, but, gentulmen, if the wust comes to the 
 wust I'm gwinter fite uv course, an' I'll jest bump the 
 head of the first Yanll^e I find, be he peddler or soldier. 
 Ole North Carliney aint't serceded yit, an' I'm gwinter 
 wait to see what she'll do, but 3^ou may load it into 
 your rifle an' shoot it into a tree, that ef ole North Car- 
 liney sercedes, I'll sercede too." 
 
 A burst of applause from the family followed this last 
 speech, and Tom, turning a half dozen hand-springs on 
 the front walk, cried : " Hurrah for old Goodnight I The 
 Yankees might as well give up. Won't we make them 
 skeedaddle? Goodnight, you are a regular whizzer !" 
 
 *' What is a whizzer, Tom ?" asked his mother. 
 
 "A whizzer, mother? Oh, pshaw! A whizzer is a 
 
 is a a whizzer is a fellow who makes things 
 
 whiz," — then the Judge told Tom he thought that would 
 be sufficient for one afternoon and he had better go for 
 the cows. 
 
 In the course of a few weeks the pressure of events 
 was so great that North Carolina did "sercede," and as 
 soon as he heard the news Goodnight came over and 
 told the Judge that he had "serceded, too," and was 
 going off to join the army and take care of Joe. 
 He put in an appearance at regimental headquarters 
 while the army was resting near Corinth, and told 
 Colonel Fisher that he wanted to be with the Feliciana 
 boys and take a hand in any fighting that might 
 occur; but he declined to submit to regular duty as a 
 soldier. He said he wanted to "skrimmage around" 
 on his ow^n responsibility, and that if any Yankee 
 
HOW THE OLD HOME DISAPPEARED. 85 
 
 fooled with him somebody would get hurt. The Colo- 
 nel informed him that it would be necessary for him 
 to be regularly enrolled in the service if he desired to 
 be treated as a prisoner of war in the event of his cap- 
 ture by the enemy, and also if he wished to draw 
 rations or pay. This was rather a mountain in his 
 way, but when the boys of Captain Hargrove's com- 
 pany, including his friend Joe Mabry, testified to Good- 
 night's excellent character and his marvelous skill with 
 the rifle, it was arranged that he should become a 
 member of that company, but have a roving commis- 
 sion as scout with permission to come and go as he 
 pleased. This suited him exactly, and he made him- 
 self very much at home about Joe's mess where he was 
 always welcome. One of the few long range rifles in 
 the Confederate service was secured for him, and he 
 promised to " make it airn its feed," nor have we any 
 reason to doubt that he kept his promise. At Shiloh 
 lie was in the skirmish line; at Murfreesboro he brought 
 in a couple of prisoners; at Chickamauga he was com- 
 plimented for bringing down a gallant Federal field 
 officer at nearly eight hundred yards, and now at Mis- 
 sionary Ridge we find him with a broken rifle bring- 
 ing up the rear of the Confederate army, and lamenting 
 that his pet weapon was forever ruined. The spoils of 
 war from many a bloody field enabled the authorities 
 to readily replace the lost gun with a better, and Good- 
 night was off as a scout once more. 
 
 General Grant was not the man to neglect following 
 up an advantage. He put everything in order, and 
 
86 TOM AND JOE. 
 
 tlien leaving his able lieutenant to press the mighty 
 struggle wii-li Johnston, who had succeeded Bragg, he 
 flew to Virginia to match arms with that incomparable 
 leader, the heroic Robert E. Lee. Thither our story 
 shall follow him — or rather meet him, for it seemed to 
 be the fortune of our young soldier to co[)e in an hum- 
 ble way with one of the foremost warriors of modern 
 times. ♦ 
 
 In the latter part of April, 1864, Lieutenant Joseph 
 Mabry, through the influence of Colonel Da Free, who 
 now held an important position in the "War Department 
 at Richmond, was transferred to the Army of Northern 
 Virginia. It was hard for Joe to leave his old com- 
 rades, but most of the bo3's wnth whom he had been 
 intimate had perished on the field, or were fretting 
 away their lives in prison, so there were but few to 
 leave. Our w^orthy scout obtained leave to go with 
 Joe, and together they reported for duty just as the 
 last tremendous thunders of the Wilderness were toll- 
 ing the requiem of twenty thousand dead Americans. 
 In the latter days of the war the soldiers were not con- 
 sulted as to their choice of oflicers, and Joe was as- 
 signed to duty as lieutenant in a Georgia regiment, 
 lie soon won the regard of his men by his considerate 
 manner and never-failing courage. Amid the awful 
 carnage of Spotsylvania he endeared himself to those 
 brave fellows forever, and, upon the death of its captain, 
 succeeded to the command of the company. 
 
 It is not our province to record that gigantic strug- 
 gle from the Wilderness to Petersburg; how the great 
 
HOW THE OLD HOME DISAPPEARED. 87 
 
 combatants writhed back and forth in the grapple 
 of death until the blood of seventy thousand heroes 
 watered the hills and valleys around Eichmond, but it 
 is enough that we follow our Joe through those dread- 
 ful weeks and months, when ten thousand fell at his 
 right hand, and the darts of the grim Terror showered 
 about him like hailstones from a summer cloud. He 
 went about his duties with no rest from marching and 
 fighting, but amid all those scenes of blood his tender 
 heart never hardened and his lofty purpose never 
 weakened. 
 
 Goodnight was ever on the scout, and so careful was 
 his investigation, so sound his conclusions, that Gene- 
 ral Lee often sent the brave fellow to brins: him certain 
 news of the movements of some column of the enemy. 
 lie was often at the tent of the commander, but he 
 always felt that he was in a superior presence, and 
 would lift his hat while yet twenty yards away. No 
 danger could appal our scout, and his simple heart felt 
 no dictates save those of stern, unflinching duty. He 
 aimed his deadly rifle with no desire for blood, but 
 simply as a matter of patriotic duty, and always with 
 a mental prayer that his enemy might "die easy." 
 
CPIAPTER X. 
 
 CHRISTMAS, 18G4. 
 
 OENERAL LEE made his last tremendous struggle 
 ^^for the dying Confederacy during nine eventful 
 months in front of Petersburg, and there day after day 
 his gallant soldiers perished around him. With an 
 endurance both heroic and pathetic they bared their 
 breasts to an overwhelming enemy, and grew haggard 
 under the insidious approaches of another enemy more 
 powerful than the legions of Grant ; they slowly starved 
 as they fought. For weeks at a time there was the 
 most desperate struggle as the Federal leader vainly 
 tried to break the line of defence ; then would 
 come a season of comparative repose, disturbed only by 
 the crash of shells and the annoying zip of the sharp- 
 shooters' bullet. 
 
 Joe was a captain now and no longer carried a mus- 
 ket. So thorough was he in discipline and so ever 
 ready for duty that he attracted the attention of his 
 general, and the youthful officer found his soldier life 
 more pleasant than at any time since the war began. 
 On the horrible 30th of July, 1864, it was Joe's company 
 that led the friendly succor rushing to the help of the 
 torn and mangled regiment that had endured the fires 
 of hell at the *' Crater." The exigences of war will 
 
 (88) 
 
CHRISTMAS. 89 
 
 excuse many things that are shocking to the civilian 
 mind, but never the murder of sleeping men, and mod- 
 ern warfare records nothing more inhuman than the 
 dreadful slaughter of those South Carolina troops on 
 the breastworks in front of Petersburg. The British 
 justified the blowing of Sepoys from the cannon mouth 
 by pointing to their awful crimes, and this was after 
 trial ; but humanity revolts when brave men, whose 
 only offense is heroic defense of rights and property, 
 are allowed no chance for their lives. The act was 
 barbarous, and will forever cast a shadow over an illus- 
 trious fame, but the retribution which the God of bat- 
 tles sometimes thunders upon the evil-doer came swift 
 and terrible. The call of blood crying from the ground 
 for vengeance was never more fully answered than 
 when a few hours later four thousand Federal dead 
 were piled in one sickening mass amid the ruins of the 
 mighty explosion. Confusion suddenly darkened their 
 counsels, and shameful defeat marked a day they 
 hoped to make forever famous. Just inside the lines, 
 where a monument now marks the wreck of a Massachu- 
 setts regiment, Joe's column struck the enemy with inde- 
 scribable fury and checked their triumphant progress. 
 The Federals fought that day like men who had no 
 heart and their opponents with the blind fury of tigers. 
 When the blue column reached the scene of the explo- 
 sion and saw men dying with horrible burns; some poor 
 wretches begging to be pulled from under the wreck, 
 and others calling piteously for water, those soldiers 
 whose bravery had won triumph after triumph for 
 
90 TOM AND JOE. 
 
 their cause were conquered in the 2:)resence of their own 
 sickening work. They fought not with their old-time 
 alacrity, but as men who were ashamed of the ruin 
 they had wrought. 
 
 For meritorious conduct at the "mine explosion" our 
 Joe was the next day promoted to the rank of major. 
 
 "I'm with you, Joe," cried Goodnight, as they hur- 
 ried to the battle, and his faithful rifle spoke out clear 
 amid the rattle of many muskets. The smoke of awful 
 conflict settled down over the scene, and when it arose 
 the two armies were back in their original positions. 
 The largest grave ever hollowed by human means was 
 filled with victims, and the bitter hatred which j^et 
 rankles in thousands of hearts took on another degree 
 of bitterness. 
 
 That evening when Goodnight came to report his 
 day's work to Joe (his invariable custom) ho patted his 
 rifle affectionately as he said : 
 
 "She aimed her feed to-day, Joe. I fired down on 
 them niggers and white men in that great big hole 
 until Tm plum sick. The Lord forgive me, but I 
 bleeve I'm gitten blood-thirsty an' ain't satisfied onless 
 I'm shootin' at some poor Yankee. There I wus a 
 shootin' them fellers in that hole with a warm feelin' 
 inside of me like I wus eatin' a good dinner. Joe, 
 I do hate to shoot at men who don't hev no fair chance 
 to shoot back, but they dug the hole an' got in it, so 
 what wus I to do? Ef this thing would jest stop I 
 would give my chance of ever seein' ole North Carliney 
 agin." 
 
CHRISTMAS. 
 
 91 
 
 But the thing did not stop, and month after month, 
 all through the autumn and winter of 18G4, the tre- 
 mendous strokes of the Federal battering ram shook 
 the Confederate temple to its foundation. Turret and 
 tower fell in ruins, crushing the gallant defenders, 
 yet the survivors fought on with a desperate valor 
 that won the admiration of fighting men in every 
 country. 
 
 Christmas came, but not a glad season ; for who can 
 ever forget the dreary desolation that made men sick 
 at heart, and many to wonder if the Prince of Peace 
 had forsaken his people. 
 
 " What is that you've brought in that bag, Good- 
 night, and why are you sticking to it so closely?" 
 asked Joe, on the afternoon before Christmas. He was 
 sitting at the door of his poor apology for a tent think- 
 ing of the Christmas time he last spent at Belhaven, 
 when the scout came in from one of his country trips 
 looking in better spirits than usual, and carrying a 
 well-filled sack on his shoulder. Goodnight seated 
 himself on a stump, and, putting the precious parcel 
 mider his knees, answered : 
 
 " Well, now, Joe, don't you be too perticular. You 
 bet I didn't tote that bag seven miles for nuthin', an' I 
 ain't gwinter turn it loose nuther, with all these rap- 
 skalliony fellers a settin' aroun' here with empty stum- 
 ucks. A empty stumuck, Joe, ain't got enny conshunce, 
 an' I wouldn't trust that bag with the best man oa 
 General Lee's staff. There ain't but two men in this 
 army that I would trust it with. General Lee is one, 
 
92 TOM AND JOE. 
 
 and if I was to tell you the totlier you would feel so 
 proud your close wouldu't hold you." 
 
 *' Thank you, old fellow; thank you; you make mo 
 blush," laughed Joe. 
 
 "Yes, I 'lowd as much, but that bag's a prize, I tell 
 you. There's dooins in that bag." 
 
 "Dooins?" repeated Joe. 
 
 "Dooins, man, dooins! Chrismus dooins, you hear 
 me. Looker here, boy, an' let your mouth water, you 
 hongry young sinner" — and Goodnight drew from the 
 bag the lifeless form of an ancient rooster that had 
 crowed at the birth of the young Confederacy — now to 
 be buried amidst its ruins. 
 
 " Now look here agin, will you, an' keep your mouth 
 shet. Ain't them taters about the best truck you've 
 seed since we left Georgy ? — but law, they ain't a patch in 
 to what we uster raise in ole North Carliney. I'm that 
 tired of salty bacon and corn bred — if it wernt for the 
 rank pizen of the thing I'd desert an' go over to the 
 Yankees. I lay they'll liev plenty of good things to 
 eat to-morrow; more good truck of one sort an' a 
 nuther, sont from home, than you could shake a stick 
 at. Lawd, Lawd, if we could only git into their camp 
 like we did that Sunday mornin' at Shiloh ! — but 
 shucks ! I ain't had one dern thing sence I come to olc 
 Virginny but devlish liard knocks, an' plenty of 'em. 
 Now, this old cock here is tuff enuf to hev crowed fer 
 Saint Peter to a wept by, but I'll bile him all nite, an' 
 in the mornin' I'll roas these fellers, an* then — gentul- 
 men, I'm gwintcr set down to the best Chrismus dooins 
 
CHRISTMAS. 03 
 
 in General Lee's army. I'm plum burnt out on bacon 
 an' corn-bred, an' the beef what we gets turns my 
 stumuck. I don't mind the fiten, but this thing oi 
 starvin' is agin my principles." 
 
 "When the scout was in camp Joe got very little 
 chance to talk — once in a while he could get in a ques- 
 tion. He now asked : 
 
 "But, old fellow, you haven't told us liow you came 
 by these dooins; did you buy them?" 
 
 "Darnation; no! Buy nothin. They axed me a 
 dollar a pound for some ole flour over there in town 
 this mornin, an' they bed to keep the barrel kivered 
 less'n the weevils would all fly away with it. Buy your 
 granny's milk cow ! I conferskated 'em. You know 
 I lies my permit as a scout, but devlish little scoutin I 
 kin do with them Yankee lines only about two hundred 
 yards off from ourn, an' it all open country, too. Then, 
 there's Phil. Sheridan's troopers scourin aroun in every 
 ten-acre lot, ontil a man lies to keep every eye open 
 all the time. One of them blamed fellows got after 
 me one day last week with one of them repetin rifles, 
 an', gentulmen, the way he did shoot wus a caution. 
 I lied to keep dodgin so fast, that I couldn't shoot fer 
 several minits, but bimeby I fetched a crack at him 
 tliat muster soured on his stumuck. I didn't hev no 
 tiaie to git his weepin; but, here I am, plum off the 
 track. "Wus tryin to tell yon about the rooster, an' got 
 mixed up with that Yankee. Well, as I wus gwinter 
 tell you, I went back through the town an' over the 
 bridge, an' then I foUered a little bline sort of a road 
 
94 TOM AND JOE. 
 
 ontil I thought I wus gwine plum to ole North Caiii- 
 iiey. I woulder jest iiacherly 'er gone on, but, when I 
 thought about what a hitch you fellers wus all in 
 here, an' how Gener'l Lee mighterlost heart had I quit 
 him, I said to myself, says I: Caleb, you've got to dance 
 to that ole fiddle until the last string pops; an' I'm 
 g winter do it, too. Bimeby I come to a little clearin' 
 on the creek, with a house sot out in the field, an' I 
 heard this ole rooster crow over in the edge of the 
 woods. I dunno what he wanted to be crowin fer these 
 times. I knowd it warn't no use to go up to the house 
 an' try to make no bargin fer tliat chicken, so I got me 
 a good stick an slipt aroun' to wdiar he wus a 
 scratchin an' galivantin' about sum hens, an' the 
 first thing he knowd I wus right on him. He 
 didn't git out more'n about three kuk-kuk-kuks, an' 
 made like to run, when I drapt him quicker'n a cat 
 can wink ; I then crawled up to wharthey had banked 
 their winter supply of sweet taters, an' I opened a hole 
 an' took out as much as I could tote handy, but it did 
 look so much like stealin that I got out my last five- 
 dollar bill — new issue — an' fasniii it on a stick, left it 
 in the hole whar the taters cum from. Ef they don't 
 spend it purty soon, it's my opinion that they'll hev to 
 keep it as a war relic." 
 
 "Didn't you say you were gwine up to Kichmun to- 
 morrow, Joe?" 
 
 "Yes, old fellow; I have an invitation from Colonel 
 DuPree to eat a Christmas dinner with him to-morrow 
 
CHRISTMAS. 95 
 
 evening, and I shall go on the mid-day train, provided 
 our friends in front do not require my attention." 
 
 *' Well, I never cuss," remarked Goodnight; "but I 
 must say, dam a man or a Yankee who won't let a fel- 
 ler live peaceable on a Crismus. Ef they spile your 
 Crismus dinner, Joe, I'll spile some of 'ems supper, or 
 you may call me a Dutchman." 
 
 The next morning Joe partook lightly of the "doo- 
 ins," and, arraying himself in the best of his scanty 
 wardrobe, hied him away to Richmond, and to Jennie 
 As he was about to leave, Goodnight beckoned him 
 aside, and asked: ''Is that purty little black-eyed gal 
 of Kernel DuPree's up to Richmond?" And, when 
 answered affirmatively, said: "Toobyshure! I thought 
 so." 
 
 When Joe was gone, Goodnight said reflectively: "I 
 knowd it. Nuthin on the tup-side of this ole bum- 
 shelled earth coulder called that boy away from the 
 front, even for a minit, except that enticin little gal. 
 There never wus but one sech gal made, an' her name 
 wus Susan, and she lived in ole North Carliney." 
 
 When Joe reached Richmond, it cost him a ten-dol- 
 lar bill out of his scanty pay for a carriage to Colonel 
 DuPree's residence. His ring at the door was answered 
 by a smart darkey, who asked, with a streak of impu- 
 dence, while holding out a silver waiter: ''Is you got a 
 kyard, sir?" 
 
 "No," replied Joe — picking up a cane that stood at 
 the entrance — " but I have a stick, and I'll break your 
 
96 TOM AND JOE. 
 
 head if you don't drop your impudent manner. Go 
 and tell your master that his friend, Major Mabry, of 
 the Army of Northern Virginia, is at the door." 
 
 The negro jumped as if a ten-pound shell had 
 exploded near him and rushed to find his master. In 
 telling his experience that night to his fellows, he 
 said : "'Fore Gawd ! dat young man is a sooner. He 
 hole he head like he wus a general — rare back like 
 General Lee heself." 
 
 Col. DuPree hastened to the door and w^elcomed Joe 
 with the thorough hospitality of an old-time friend. 
 
 " Why bless you, my dear boy, I'm truly glad to see 
 you. Indeed I am ; and they tell me you fought j^our 
 way up battle by battle until here you are a major at 
 twenty-one. Well, w^ell, well ! I expect to see you in 
 command of a brigade yet. Ah, Joe ! wdio would have 
 expected the quiet young farmer boy of dear old Feli- 
 ciana to become such a superb soldier. Good Southern 
 blood will tell every time." 
 
 Joe modestly disclaimed any merit that deserved a 
 higher rank, and said that he tried to do his part 
 wherever duty called. 
 
 " By the way, my boy," continued the Colonel, "Jen- 
 nie is here w^ith me now and as full of life as ever. 
 These times of trouble don't seem to cloud her spirits 
 in the least. She went out last night with her cousin, 
 John Barton, to attend a Christmas festival, and they 
 did not get home until past midnight, so the lazy little 
 thing has kept her room the better part of to-day. I 
 sent her word that you had arrived and she will be 
 
CHRISTMAS. 97 
 
 down directly. You and Jennie were great friends in 
 childhood and I know she will be glad to see you. Of 
 course you remember John Barton ; a handsome fellow, 
 so 'the girls think, though his style of beauty doesn't 
 suit my fancy in a man — a sort of cousin of Jennie's? 
 and very rich." 
 
 This last qualification was more powerful with the 
 old gentleman than he would admit to himself. 
 
 There was a chill about our young soldier's manly 
 heart at this mention of Jennie and his quondam rival, 
 and, when a moment later the rustle of a woman's gar- 
 ment announced the entrance of that young beauty, 
 there came over him the same feeling that made him 
 tremble when he received his *' baptism of fire" that 
 memorable Sunday morning at Shiloh. But only for 
 a moment did he falter — then rising to the full dignity 
 of his young manhood, he listened, while he held her 
 hand, to her stately welcome, so difi'erent from that he 
 had dreamed of the night before in the trenches of 
 Petersburg. 
 
 "We are all so glad to see you, Major Mabry, and we 
 are proud of your splendid career as a soldier." 
 
 Joe murmured his thanks, and replied that the old 
 friends of his boyhood were ever dear to him, nor could 
 he ever forget the fair girl who played and romped 
 with him so long ago. 
 
 Other members of the family drifted in, when the 
 
 conversation became general, and, as usual, the war 
 
 was the principal topic. It is yet a subject upon which 
 
 the people of the South love to dwell, for around it 
 
 5 
 
98 TOM AND JOE. 
 
 cling their saddest and tenderest memories, nor will 
 they ever cease to love and venerate tliose mighty men 
 of valor who made that immortal struggle the crown- 
 ing achievement of all the ages. 
 
 "Tell us how matters are progressing in front, Major 
 Mabry,'^ said Jennie, "and when will General Lee drive 
 Grant away as he did McClellan and others ?'* 
 
 "Yes, yes, Joe," chimed in the Colonel, "I want to 
 know the honest opinion of a soldier — one who was on 
 the ground and helped to do the fighting. Don't you 
 think the whole business has been miserably botched?" 
 
 The young soldier drew himself up proudly, and for- 
 getting that he was in the very presence of "the powers 
 that be" — forgetting that Jennie was listening — told an 
 eloquent story of the wrongs endured by his comrades. 
 
 "Colonel DuPree, it will be hard for you to realize 
 that our army is slowly starving and freezing. General 
 Grant need not rush his brave troops against our lines 
 to have them slaughtered, for two months more of such 
 treatment as they have received from the authorities 
 lately will destroy the last hope of the Confederacy. I 
 speak only of material matters now, for there are other 
 things Avhich tend to destroy the morale of the army, 
 but this question of supplies and reinforcement is para- 
 mount. What is the object of those immense stores in 
 Georgia and Alabama? If they are intended for the 
 army in Virginia they ought to be delivered, or given 
 out to our suffering women and children at home. It 
 looks very much like they were put up as so many 
 baits for raiding parties of the enemy. Do you won- 
 
CHRISTMAS. 99 
 
 der that our men desert, and that those wlio once get 
 a chance to go home rarely return ? Men may love to 
 fight for their country, and may be drawn by a sense 
 of duty, or a feeling of patriotism, to stick to their post 
 in front, but there are very few who feel called upon to 
 starve in defense of State rights and negro slavery. 
 You may think, sir, that I have picked up some radi- 
 cal notions for a Confederate soldier, but I tell you in 
 all candor that I speak but the sentiments of the men 
 who are presenting their breasts a living barrier to the 
 legions of the North. What is the matter with our 
 people, anyhow ? We ought to have a million men 
 under arms, and at least one hundred and fifty thou- 
 sand of them should be around Richmond, or thun- 
 dering at the gates of Washington. Now what are the 
 facts in the case ? Forty thousand men are all that 
 General Lee can call his own, and they suffering the 
 bitterest pangs of poverty. Think, sir, what they have 
 endured this cold winter, and what they must still suf- 
 fer on scant rations and not clothing enough to meet 
 the demands of decency; yet they rush to battle and 
 to death with a cheerful alacrity, that proves their 
 earnest patriotism and their glorious courage. 
 
 "And our great leader! How shall I speak of him? 
 He stands out the sublimest character in this mighty 
 struggle, and I know his great soul suffers as he sees 
 his men suff"er. I tell you, Colonel DuPree, I believe it 
 is the love these soldiers have for that wonderful man 
 that keeps them where they are. They call him 
 * Uncle Robert,' and no matter how the l)attle may 
 
100 TOM AND JOE. 
 
 seem to go against them, let him but ride along the 
 lines and it is worth ten thousand fresh troops. They 
 cannot help from shouting whenever they see that 
 grand old hero, and the slowest man in the army would 
 resent an insult to General Lee as he would to his own 
 father. I love him; yes, you may call it 'hero wor- 
 ship,' if 3^ou please; and to win such w^ords of praise 
 as he gave the young Alabama artillerist I would 
 cheerfully face the deadliest volley ever poured from 
 Federal lines. I would even starve for him. 
 
 "Now, let me give you, my father's friend and mine, 
 a word of warning. If you have any preparation to 
 make for meeting the inevitable collapse, I insist that 
 you do not delay. The end is rapidly approaching, 
 and just so soon as the condition of the roads will per- 
 mit the enemy to move we wull be compelled to retreat. 
 Where will we go? is a question I cannot answ^er. 
 The crash will come very soon, but I may not live to 
 see it. Of one tiling I am certain — come fame and 
 triumph, come starvation and death — I shall follow 
 'Uncle Robert' to the last ditch!" 
 
 The young soldier's eyes were flaming with the 
 light of battle and his voice was clear as a trumpet. 
 
 "Oh, Joe!" cried Jennie, impetuously, "you look 
 like a hero ! " Then, bursting into tears, she fled from 
 the room. 
 
 Joe enjoyed that Christmas dinner, for ho brought 
 with him the appetite of one who had fasted. Jennie 
 was very quiet, and for many a year she never passed 
 this anniversary without thinking tenderly of her gal- 
 
CHRISTMAS. 101 
 
 lant young lover who came to her from out the din of 
 battle, looked into her eyes for one brief hour, and then 
 rode back into the battle's smoke. 
 
 AVhen Joe got back to Petersburg that night he 
 heard the boom of heavy guns and the crash of ex- 
 ploding shells. "Hello, Joe!" cried Goodnight, who 
 was waiting at the depot' to welcome his return; "I'm 
 glad to see you back looken so smilin'. Them onman- 
 nered Yanks are firin' their Crismus guns, an' being 
 'feard of wastin' ammynishun they puts in them big 
 shells an' flings 'em over to us with the complyments 
 of the season. Dern 'em ! if I don't fling some small- 
 bore complyments back to 'em in the morning, you 
 may call me a son of a Dutchman. 
 
 " Lawd ! Lawd ! I hev spent the miserablest Crismus 
 sence I got through with them dooins this mornin' — 
 sorter sickly about the gills and puny-livered. I reckon 
 'twus 'cause you went to see that little black-eyed gal 
 o' yourn, an' it put me to studyin' about Susan. I 
 wonder if the good Lord is ever gwinter let me see 
 that gal agin ? It'll be jest about my confounded luck 
 to meet her sometime with about six little tow-headed 
 Tar-heels callin' her * mammy,' an' I can't stand that, 
 nohow. Better be killed by the Yankees. I think, 
 Joe, that I'll get aquainted with some of them North 
 Carliney fellows what's camped next to us, an' maby 
 I'll find some feller what knows the people in my ole 
 diggins ; who knows but I might hear somethin' about 
 Susan ? Oh, she wus the likeliest gal." 
 
CHAPTER XI. 
 
 JOHN BARTON AND JENNIE. 
 
 r^N the afternoon of "New Year's," Richmond was 
 S^alive with vehicles dashing in every direction. The 
 grandeur, the gaiety, and the wealth of the capital 
 were tliere, and the poor emaciated private from the 
 hospital was wandering about the streets to gaze upon 
 the festival, and wonder what his wife and babies were 
 doing in the far-away cottage amid the mountains. 
 Who could have imagined that the Goths were already 
 thundering at the gates of Eomc, and that the mighty 
 walls were tottering to their final ruin? Yet, with all 
 the signs and portents gleaming ominously along the 
 Southern sky, there w^as a sound of revelry in many a 
 stately home. AVho cared for the distant bellowing of 
 gunboats on the river, and the flaming thunder along 
 the embattled host of foemen? Was not Robert Lee 
 in command? Then all must be safe. Was not the 
 Army of Northern Virginia, glorious as of old, "stand- 
 ing like a stonewall" before the enemy? Alas! the 
 "right arm" of the commander was gone, and his 
 legions had perished by many a rolling river. 
 
 A vast cosmopolitan population had assembled in 
 the Confederate capital — thousands of them holding 
 office, and yet other thousands struggling for place, 
 
 (102) 
 
JOHN BARTON AND JENNIE. 103 
 
 On that day dashing young officers and foppish gray- 
 beards — all adorned with gold lace and shiny brass 
 buttons — beat tattoo upon the sidewalks with high- 
 heeled boots, or stormed up the rocky streets in car- 
 riages. Were those men rushing to meet the legions 
 of Grant? Ah, no ! They were passing from drawing- 
 room to bower, and from bower to salon — with, perhaps, 
 intermediate calls at the saloon. Those men wore mili- 
 tary titles suggestive of battle. They are yet " colo- 
 nels," after a lapse of a quarter of a century, and -tell 
 to the present generation many marvelous stories of 
 personal prowess in the old days. They had no hope 
 then of ever winning military fame, unless in the ca- 
 pacity of critics, but the ugliest dandy in the crowd 
 had aspirations to become a drawing-room hero. 
 
 Women are the same blessed, mysterious creatures 
 from Boston to Zululand. If they cannot have a man 
 about, they will smile upon a dude. When the man 
 is away off, busy in the battle of life, that nonentity 
 known in all ages as the fop, the dandy, or the dude, 
 attempts the role of man, and he sometimes passes 
 current. Is it not possible that the time is coming 
 when the American woman will rather support, protect, 
 and cherish a dude, than be supported, protected, and 
 cherished by a man? The tendency of education is 
 that way. 
 
 Late in the afternoon a carriage stopped at Colonel 
 DuPree's gate. A young man alighted with an air of 
 easy assurance, and, dismissing the driver, passed in 
 through the door without the formality of ringing. 
 
104 TOM AND JOE. 
 
 He was a handsome young man with shapely hands 
 and feet, wavy brown liair, and a moustache that the 
 girls called "just lovely." An elegant Confederate uni- 
 form fitted his graceful figure, and there was that in 
 his movements which suggested "a slight suspicion of 
 something to drink." 
 
 Entering the parlor, self-announced, he found Jennie 
 comfortably curled up in an immense cushioned rocker. 
 She hastily folded and hid in her pocket a letter she 
 had just been reading, and in the depths of her lovely 
 dark eyes there w^as a glimmer of tears. 
 
 "Ah, my fair tyrant! You needn't hide the letter; 
 I know it's only a petition from some poor fellow j^ou 
 have enslaved, and he is praying you to pile on more 
 fetters. Do I not guess well? Hello! it must be a bad 
 case, for I see tears in your bright eyes." 
 
 "Sit down, Cousin John, and don't be ridiculous. 
 The letter is from a dear friend, telling me how sadly 
 our poor boys suffered three days ago during that dread- 
 ful snow-storm. The brave fellows were out in the 
 trenches at Petersburg, and many of them were so ter- 
 ribly frost-bitten that they are being sent up here to 
 the hospital." 
 
 "Yes, yes; that is too bad. "We soldiers have a 
 hard time indeed, and our country ought to be very 
 grateful. Only the other day, with all that snow on 
 the ground, I had to go down to Petersburg with a 
 special letter from the department to General Lee, and 
 would you believe it, Jennie, I had to ride out three 
 miles to one of the forts where the General was over- 
 
JOHN BARTON AND JENNIE. 105 
 
 looking some new works. It was dreadful cold, but 
 the rough fellows were workmg in the mud and slush, 
 singing and shouting like it was fun. G enteral Lee 
 stood on the ground near them, and they were the 
 happiest men I ever saw. I had to ride out there in 
 an open top-buggy — yes, yes, we soldiers lead an awful 
 hard life." 
 
 "Now, Cousni John," replied Jennie, "let me en- 
 treat — don't be ridiculous! You talk about a hard 
 life ; it amuses me. You spend your time in ease and 
 comfort,, and only do a little writing, or riding about. 
 You have the rank and pay of captain, yet you have 
 never been in a battle." 
 
 " But you know, Jennie, that I am on General Buf- 
 fet's staff, and as his business is to plan rather than 
 fight, I am compelled to remain in the city. Some- 
 body has to do the ' head work.' But let me tell you, 
 my bright, guiding star, that I long to rush into the 
 thickest of the fray and pluck bright honors from the 
 cannon's mouth. Oh, if I only knew that you would 
 weep o'er my lowly grave and not forget the young 
 soldier who perished in defense of his country ! " Here 
 John grew quite pathetic, and showed symptoms of 
 blubbering over. 
 
 "Oh, Cousin John, do stop! I am about to weep 
 now, and I promise you here that when you are killed 
 iu battle I'll 'melt mine eyes to tears.'" 
 
 John Barton did not know whether to feel tender 
 or savage over this promise, so he returned to the 
 charge: 
 
106 TOM AND JOE. 
 
 " By tlie way, Jennie, who is your tender-hearted 
 friend wlio writes sucli a jeremiade about tlie woes of 
 the soldiers? Strange I never heard of him or met 
 him, since he is such a dear friend of yours." 
 
 A flush o'erspread the fair face as she answered: 
 
 "Cousin John, you will certainly recollect him — one 
 of your schoolmates in boyhood and now one of tlie 
 bravest men in the Southern army. ^ly letter is from 
 Major Joseph Mabry." 
 
 John Barton was sober in an instant, and an ugly 
 look darkened his face. He tried for a moment to 
 compose himself, but failing to control his passion ho 
 turned to the girl and almost hissed: 
 
 "Do you mean to tell me that you, Jennie DuPree, 
 are corresponding with that cowardly clod-hopper, Joe 
 Mabry? A fellow whose tastes were so low that he 
 followed the plow and fed the hogs, while I and other 
 young gentlemen rode about the country at our leisure; 
 a fellow who could not dance a set to save his life, and 
 w^as too cowardly to resent an insult when I threw my 
 glove at his face in your very presence ; a clown whoso 
 highest ambition was to be called a goody-good boy at 
 school and exhibit prize pumpkins at the county fair. 
 I am astonished at you ! " 
 
 John Barton evidently did not understand the spirit 
 of his pretty cousin Jennie, else he would have been 
 more diplomatic. The fair girl's face was very pale for 
 a moment, but suddenly the flush of anger mounted 
 to her cheek, and, springing to her feet, the wrathful 
 
JOHN BARTON AND JENNIE. 107 
 
 little beauty astonished him with an answer that he 
 will not forget to his dying day. 
 
 "John Barton, stop! You forget that you are in tlie 
 presence of a lady, and that you are slandering a man 
 whom she is proud to call her friend. A man who is 
 the very embodiment of soldierly valor; whose brave 
 heart has carried him through the dangers and horrors 
 of fifty battles; who has fought his way up from the 
 ranks, and whose lofty soul would spurn the malignant 
 slander of even an absent enemy. 0, that my coun- 
 try had a million such sons to serve her in this hour 
 of trial ! I would rather be a man and die by Joe 
 Mabry's side in the hour of battle, than be the proud- 
 est carpet knight in all this fair city. 0, to be a man 
 and a soldier at this hour! " 
 
 "John Barton, you did not know Joe Mabry when 
 he was a boy, nor did I. We could not understand 
 how he could work on the farm and yet be a gentle- 
 man; could feel an insult, and yet not stoop to the 
 level of a brawler." 
 
 John's rare impudence came to his rescue, and ignor- 
 ing the stinging rebuke of the girl's words, he replied : 
 "Why, Jennie, you are a tragedy queen, and are raising 
 an awful storm on small provocation. This heroic Joe 
 Mabry mu^t have vastly improved in courage since the 
 Valentine party the first year of the war. I couldn't 
 get him to fight then, and you were mighty quick to 
 cut him for a coward. I have alwaj^s understood that 
 a gentleman would demand satisfaction for an insult." 
 
108 TOM AND JOE. 
 
 "Reproach me as you will, Cousin Jolin, for I deserve 
 it all," replied Jennie, sadly. ''I have told you that 
 neither of us were able to understand the nobility of 
 soul that characterized Joe Mabry, even in boyhood, 
 and now that he has reached the full stature of a man, 
 physically and mentally, his soul has risen to yet lof- 
 tier hights. I repeat that I am proud to call him 
 friend, and I warn you now, as you value my respect, 
 to refrain from speaking disparagingly of one whom I 
 regard, and who is worthy of any woman's love. 
 Understand me; I will not listen to one word against 
 my friend. Pardon me, Cousin John, if I have been 
 rude. I had almost forgotten to be a lady." 
 
 John Barton did not linger that evening, but pru- 
 dently took his leave early, and divided his time pretty 
 equally between "hot-scotch" and full-grown profanity. 
 
 The winter passed with constant suffering among 
 the troops, relieved only by some terribly sharp pas- 
 sages at arms. Fighting was a relief to those brave 
 men, and they rushed with cheers to meet the attack 
 of the enemy, or sang songs of love and war to while 
 away the hours. The wretched condition of the Vir- 
 ginia roads prevented any very active movements, but 
 the Federal commander was never idle. Vigilant and 
 aggressive, he never lost an opportunity of striking a 
 blow whenever he thought he detected a weak point in 
 the opposing lines. With a powerful army, supplied 
 with everything in the way of equipment ; a new man 
 in the place of every one who fell, and a better gun 
 instead of each one lost, there was every encourage- 
 
JOHN BARTON AND JENNIE. 109 
 
 ment to fight. He did fight with an energy that shook 
 the continent. After tremendous labor, and a display 
 of infinite patience, he succeeded in procuring and 
 mounting a powerful battery of long-range guns on 
 Fort Steadman, and undertook to break the line of 
 communication between Petersburg and Richmond. 
 Shells from those guns did great damage in the city 
 where the marks are yet to be seen, and the effect 
 became a serious problem to the Confederates. General 
 Grant well knew what action his great opponent would 
 take when those guns began to make themselves felt, 
 and like a wise soldier he proceeded to strengthen his 
 works with all the skill known to military science. 
 Not satisfied with the most elaborate preparation in 
 front, he built yet other powerful works within his own 
 lines commanding in both flank and rear his own 
 heavy battery. It was a wise precaution, as 'the sequel 
 shows, and illustrates the prudence of the man who 
 never failed to accomplish his undertakings. But we 
 will not anticipate, nor will we intrude further into the 
 province of history than is necessary to properly locate 
 our humble characters. 
 
 Many of the old soldiers of both sides remember 
 those two rival works on the southeast of the city, grimly 
 named by their defenders, "Fort Hell," and "Fort 
 Damnation." To-day the tourist forces his way through 
 the dense growth of scrub and briars, and walking upon 
 those walls of earth so desperately struggled for, finds 
 in every open space a cankered bullet, or the rusty 
 fragment of a shell — suggestive mementoes of the time 
 
110 TOM AND JOE. 
 
 when brother fought with brotlier, and the saddest 
 pages of American liistory were written. So man}' 
 weary months of ceaseless watching and fighting ; so 
 much of suffering, of sorrow and of death. Alas I for 
 the brave young men who ended their glorious lives in 
 this struggle ! Perhaps it was best for the permanency 
 of this great nation that the rich blood should have 
 been shed. Perhaps to-day when we of the North and 
 South meet and mingle our tears around the altar of 
 sacrifice a mutual sorrow brings our hearts nearer to 
 each other, and may be it was well that the victims 
 were offered ; but ever and ever the suffering soul asks : 
 "Why was the boy sacrificed? Why was not the old 
 political ram stretched upon the sacrificial earthwork 
 instead of freeing his crooked horn from the thicket, 
 and being allowed to roam the earth at large, vexing 
 the people with discordant bleating ? " 
 
 The pines and cherries have grown above the place 
 of blood, forest trees have sprung from the depths of 
 the Crater, and the roar of commerce-laden trains sounds 
 like the far-off muttering of musketry. Lee and Grant 
 have clasped hands in the spirit world, and a united 
 band of brothers shout again on the eternal shore. 
 
 The gloomy spring of 18G5 opened in tears. Kind 
 nature sorrowed o'er tlie fate of the heroic little band 
 in the beleaguered city. The mighty arms of the Fed- 
 eral giant clasped the very pillars of the temple, and 
 well the defenders knew that when he bowed liimself 
 and put forth his tremendous strength the solid earth 
 would tremble under the pressure. 
 
JOHN B.-..IITON AND JENNIE. Ill 
 
 Not far to the right of the Crater there is still to be 
 seen the ruins of a covered way which ran out from 
 the main line of defense to the picket line some little 
 distance in front. This ditch passes through one edge 
 of a little country grave-yard, where slept the bodies of 
 a dead and gone generation, and doubtless those poor 
 inanimate pieces of clay kept very still while the tem- 
 pest of war raged above them. 
 
 But what of the immortal spirits? If they come 
 back to earth how anxiously they must have watched 
 the great tragedy develop before their astonished vis- 
 ion! How strange this hurricane of war in a land so 
 peaceful when they left it, and more than strange that 
 its wildest horrors should have centered around that 
 unknown grave-yard. Broken pieces of tombstones 
 lie scattered around, and the stains of leaden missiles 
 still cling to the marble, but the thunder of battle has 
 passed away, leaving no sound save the whistling of 
 the partridge and the cheery song of the plowman. 
 
 Here on the afternoon of March 24, 18G5, we find 
 Joe in command of the picket post. The pickets of 
 the respective armies did a great deal of fighting in 
 thpse days, and when properly handled were capable 
 of making a desperate defense of their position. Joe 
 had the remnant of his skeleton regiment, and all the 
 afternoon a spirited interchange of shots had been 
 made with more or less damage. No man could ex- 
 pose his body a moment without drawing a bullet. It 
 was one of those occasions when the shooting appeared 
 spiteful. The riflemen made all sorts of secret aper- 
 
112 TOM AND JOE. 
 
 tures in the works where they could fire through with- 
 out being seen, but not long could one remain in a 
 place. The smoke of his gun would reveal the spot to 
 some keen rival eye, and the unceremonious bullet 
 would seek a victim. Joe had brought his boyhood 
 skill into practice, and after detecting several lurking 
 sharpshooters had routed them out with a well-aimed 
 ball. 
 
 "Boys," said he, addressing those sitting around; 
 "there is a fellow at the end of that log on their line, 
 a little to the left, who shoots with a very close rifle. 
 He put that bullet through Johnnie Stanford's hat an 
 hour ago, and if he isn't scared off he'll hurt some- 
 body this evening. I tried him that last shot and 
 lodged a bullet in the earth just where it joins the log, 
 
 and I think I scared him, but" "By George! look 
 
 at that, will you?" 
 
 As he spoke, another bullet came singing past his 
 face and chipped a splinter from the marble that 
 marked the grave of a baby. It was a neat little monu- 
 ment erected by some loving mother j^ears before, 
 when, with tears and heartache, she put her darling 
 away out of her sight. 0, little mounds and little 
 marbles I You hide so much that is fair and are so 
 eloquent of love and agony! 
 
 "I wish that Goodnight would come; he could stop 
 that fellow's frolic." 
 
 Joe had scarcely expressed his wish, when the voice 
 of the giant was heard roaring down the covered way: 
 "Darnation! what do they wantcr crowd a man of my 
 
JOHN BARTON AND JENNIE. 113 
 
 size into such a badger hole as this fer? Ef I'd a 
 knowd I hadter git down on my beily an' crawl, I'd a 
 made a run fer it across the open. Confound this 
 hidin an' crawlin, ennyhow — let me stan' up fair an' 
 open an' take a crack at the enemy ; then, let him do 
 the same way. 
 
 "Hello, Joe! Howeryer, boys? Enny of you dead 
 yet? Ef you ain't, them Yankees hev been wastin a 
 powerful lot of ammynishun, for I've hyeard 'em a 
 poppin away ever since I left the depot." 
 
 "We are all right, old fellow," answered Joe, "and 
 are awful glad to see you. We were just speaking of, 
 and wishing for you and your rifle." 
 
 "Speak of the devil" — said Lieutenant Featherstone, 
 who lay comfortably behind the little mound, and 
 leisurely puffed the tobacco-smoke above his head — 
 "you know the proverb." 
 
 "Speak of your mother-in-law!" growled Goodnight. 
 "You little flap-jack leftenants are too peart, ennyhow. 
 Of all the conseated, imperdent little cusses in the 
 whole world, exceptin, of course, them department 
 clarks up to Richmun — a young leftenant with a little 
 har on his top lip, an' a tin jobstick by his side, is the 
 conseatedest and imperdentest — an' ef you don't like 
 them big words, you kin jest put 'em in your gun an' 
 shoot 'em over to the Yankees." 
 
 A general laugh at the expense of the young ofiicer fol- 
 lowed this reply ; but no one ever got mad at Goodnight. 
 
 "Let me give you a morsel of good advice, old coon- 
 skin," answered the young man pleasantly. "That 
 
114 TOM AND JOE. 
 
 earthwork was built to cover men of regulation sizes, 
 and, if you don't squat a little lower, some Yankee 
 bullet will plug that big gourd on your shoulders. We 
 would hate to lose you just now, old scout; besides, it's 
 awful troublesome to bury a big man like you." 
 
 Never was advice more timely, and had scarcely 
 been given when Goodnight threw himself down with 
 a growl of rage and clapped his hand to the side of 
 his head. He had just opened his mouth to say: 
 "Confound your advice and you, too''; but he never 
 said it. His tune changed, as he said: "Boys, you're 
 come mighty nigh to a funeral. Ef that feller hader 
 shot one inch to the right, it woulder been good-bye to 
 ole North Carliney. See here where he barked my 
 year." 
 
 "By the great hokeys. exclaimed Featherstone ; 
 "that Yankee has j)ut you in his mark, my old moun- 
 tain bull, and he'll claim you on any part of the range. 
 An over-bit in the right ear ? If the left has a sn:iooth 
 crop, it's the same mark my father used to use on his 
 calves and pigs down in Georgia." 
 
 Goodnight looked at him reproachfully for a second, 
 and then remarked : " Frum the looks of your head, 
 your daddy muster fergot to mark one of his calves — 
 maybe he 'lowd it warn't wuth markin." 
 
 "I'll venture that is the same fellow who has been 
 doing such fancy shooting all the afternoon," spoke 
 Joe. "He threw dirt in my face a while ago, put a 
 bullet through Johnnie Stanford's hat, and scared 
 Featherstone out of six month's growth — so I was just 
 
JOHN BARTON AND JENNIE. 115 
 
 wishing for you and your rifle as you came out of that 
 hole." 
 
 " Well, gentulmen, ef that Yankee ain't my meat, 
 I'm his'n. I wish you would look at this hearin' organ 
 of mine, Joe, an' tell me if the ole mersheen is dam- 
 aged much. Now, boys, that is what I claim to be a 
 close call, an' the feller what hes to run sich chances 
 had better keep in a prain' frame of mind. Lawd, 
 Lawd, jest think what a mess I'd be in now ef that 
 feller's aim had been a leetle better. An' I wus feelin' 
 so good, too — hevin' jest heard from old North Car- 
 liney. But I'm burnin' daylight, an' now I must 'tend 
 to that feller what put his mark on me. I'll put a 
 brand on him that will erdentify him a hundred yards 
 in anybody's pasture — the sneakin' villun.'* 
 
 The veteran scout examined his rifle, and then work- 
 mg his way on hands and knees about twenty yards 
 further down the little earthwork, he carefully dug a 
 hole through the spongy ridge, making the outer aper- 
 ture barely larger than the muzzle of his gun. Fixing 
 his huge frame as comfortably as possible in his 
 cramped quarters, he" patiently awaited developments; 
 nor had he long to wait, when a puff of white smoke 
 at the end of the log told that another rifle ball had 
 followed its companions on a visit to the party at the 
 little graveyard. In extracting the exploded cartridge 
 the unfortunate sharpshooter extended his elbow for a 
 moment beyond the end of the sheltering log. That one 
 moment was enough. Already the keen eye of Good- 
 night was sweeping along the deadly barrel, and quick 
 
IIG TOM AND JOE. 
 
 as thought came another 2)ufr of white smoke, another 
 sharp report, and there was one more mutilated pen- 
 sioner upon Federal bounty. A cry of pain broke from 
 the poor fellow as the cruel bullet shattered the bones 
 of his arm, and even as he fainted he heard the tre- 
 mendous voice of the scout : 
 
 " I reckon you'll let us alone for a coon's age ! Ef 
 you fellers will quit shootin' for awhile we'll let you 
 take your man back to the hosspital ; we've got a little 
 of his smart w^ork to look after over here." 
 
 "All right!" came the answer, and between the 
 pickets at this point there was an informal armLstioe. 
 
CHAPTER XII, 
 
 GOODNIGHT CAPTURES RICHMOND. 
 
 n^HE armistice agreed upon by the opposing pickets 
 I was faithfully kept, and when the stars came quietly 
 out for their nightly vigil the old soldiers, except an 
 occasional sentry, threw themselves down on the earth 
 to rest and to sleep. They lay about in groups, some 
 laughing, some eating their scanty ration, and a few 
 growling over their dismal condition. Soon one by 
 one they went off into happy dreams of home and 
 loved ones. Blessed sleep! where the poor ragged 
 veterans of Lee were fed and clothed abundantly. 
 
 Many a brave young fellow dreamed that night of 
 bright eyes that w^ould never more grow brighter at 
 his coming, for 'ere another sun should set his glorious 
 soul would be beyond the stars which then looked 
 down upon him so pityingly Blessed sleep! No 
 thunder of cannon and rushing of squadrons to bat- 
 tle, but beautiful dreams of home and peace. 
 
 Our group at the graveyard arranged themselves to 
 get the most comfort, but they were singularly sleep- 
 less. Goodnight reclined at the foot of a small cedar 
 that was scarred from top to bottom with bullet marks. 
 Lieutenant Featherstone, the brave young Georgian, 
 lay near the marble pillar that a vandal shell had 
 
 (117) 
 
118 TOM AND JOE. 
 
 broken a few days before, wbile our Joe spread his 
 blanket and rested his head tenderly upon the grave 
 of the baby whose little monument was so cruelly 
 hacked by the sharpshooter's bullet tliat afternoon. 
 No desecration to thee, little babe, for the head resting 
 on that mound was worthy a laurel crown, and the 
 heart that beat above thee was faithful to every trust ! 
 
 As Goodnight settled himself down with a great 
 grunt of relief he remarked, speaking of the dead: 
 
 " These here are mighty peaceable-like nabors we've 
 got to-night." 
 
 " Yes," replied Joe ; " the dead never trouble per- 
 sons whose consciences are easy, and I would that our 
 friends over the way were as well disposed. I am so 
 tired of this war — so tired of being cooped up in the 
 trenches fighting and starving. If we've got to fight, 
 I want to go out upon the open field and hear the old- 
 time * rebel yell,' such as we shouted at Shiloh and 
 Chickamauga. But let me tell you, boys, that old 
 shout is but an echo of its former self. The men who 
 used to follow their bayonets to the music of their own 
 shouting are dead on a hundred battle-fields, and the 
 countless thousands who skulk in every swamp from 
 Virginia to Texas can never be brought to a sense of 
 their duty. It will soon be all up with us, for at the 
 rate we are going all will be dead 'ere summer opens. 
 You know, boys, why we quit chilling the roll? It was 
 so discouraging, and we could count our squads at a 
 glance. I know that our * Uncle Ivobert ' will do all 
 that mortal man can do-;-more, in fact, than any one 
 
GOODNIGHT CAPTURES RICHMOND. 119 
 
 living, but when his soldiers are all gone he cannot 
 keep up the fight.'^ 
 
 " I tell YOU what, Joe," interposed Goodnight, " there 
 are enuf fellers up thar to Richmun', standin' around 
 an' pertendin' to be doin' somethin', to make a peart 
 little army ; and I guess it's the same way all over the 
 South. Evry son-uv-a-gun of 'em hes to be fed, too, 
 an' that what makes it so agrivatin'. 
 
 " Why, gentulmen, there's enuf of them fellers what 
 rides around all over the country, eatin' up all the 
 vittles they can git, an' plunderin' a little on their own 
 hook, to eat up Grant's whole army. They calls their- 
 selves * cavelry,' but most fokes calls them * butter- 
 milk rangers,' an' that name jest about suits 'em, shore 
 'nuf. Lawd, Lawd, ef ole Forrest could only git holt 
 of 'em he'd make 'em fight, ef there's enny fight in 
 'em. It's my opinion that lots of 'em are brave men 
 enuf, but they aint soljers. 
 
 "What they need is diserplin. No soljer ain't 
 gwinter fight onless you diserplin him, an' the more 
 diserplin you give him the better he's gwinter fight. 
 
 "I've been up to Richmun fer two days, an' it fairly 
 riled me to see the 'stonishin ermount of 3^oung fellers 
 warin good close — soljer close, too — an 'tendin like 
 they wus doin somethin. Imperdent young devils, too. 
 Why, ser, I wus a walking along the streets a lookin 
 at the sights, (for Richmun is a powerful big town — 
 biggern Wilmington), an' when I got to the Saint 
 Charles hotel-corner, there wus a lot of peart, spry- 
 looking chaps, with good close on, an' their boots jest 
 
120 TOM AND JOE. 
 
 as shiny as Kernel DuPree's nigger waiter's face — an' 
 what must the pizen young devils do, but grin an' 
 chatter like a passel of young monkeys, an' make re- 
 marks about me, sech as: * Hello, feet! where you 
 gwine with that man?' 'Say, long legs; wlien'd you 
 come to town ? ' * Where'd you git them britches ? ' 
 An' a whole passel more sayins, sech as no one but a 
 nachell born fool would everer thought of. AVell, gcn- 
 tulmen, that riled me, an' I told them they wus a lot of 
 conseated imperdent puppies what hedn't got their eyes 
 open, but, if they'd come out to the front an' fight the 
 Yankees, I'd fergiv 'em. They got hot then, an' wanted 
 to whup me right there, an' one of 'em who had a pore 
 one-legged soljer a blackin his boots, he upt with the 
 little stool his foot wus on an' flung it at me; then, a 
 nuther one pulled out a little pistil about as big as my 
 finger an' pinted it;at me. Ef he hader shot me with 
 that thing, an' I'd a ever found it out, I'd a made him 
 think one of them big hammers down at the iron 
 works had hit him, but I jess reached out an' caught 
 the two fightin ones by the collers an' bumped their 
 heads aginst one nuther untel it sounded like two green 
 gourds a poppin together. I then made for a nuther 
 handful of 'em, when, who should cum up but two of 
 them police fellers, with swords, an' tole me I wus their 
 pris'ner. I tole them I reckon not, for the Yankees 
 hed been tryin' that game for four years an' hedn't suc- 
 ceeded 3^et; but I sed, if I hod done enny thing wrong, 
 (which I hedn't) I wus will in to see the gencrl in 
 charge, but I wern't gwine up before no mayor, nor 
 
GOODNIGHT CAPTURES RICHMOND. 121 
 
 nutliin of that kind. I tole them I hed a permit from 
 Generl Lee, signed with his own hand — God bless 
 him! — allowin me to scout aroun' when anywhere I 
 pleased; that I hed found it convenient to scout about 
 in Hichmun, an' there wern't enn3^body gwinter stop 
 me nuther, ceppen he wus a better man than I wus, 
 which wern't likely. Well, ser, one of them fellers 
 give the keenest whissel I ever hyeard, an', before you 
 could say * Jack Eoberson,' there wus a half dozen of 
 them policemen all around me. Then I begin to git 
 mad shorenuf. I jess put my rifle down agin the wall, 
 an', squarin myself, I tole them to wade right in ; that 
 I wern't gwinter shoot none of 'em, an' I could whup 
 a whole cowpen full of such fellers with my fist. 
 
 " Gentulmen, you'd a thought there wus gwinter be 
 the dog-gondest row right there — an' there woulder 
 been, too. I don't know what woulder happened, and 
 how it woulder ended, ef Kernel DuPree hadn't stept 
 up at that minit an' tole them that he knowd me, an' 
 would stan 'sponsible for me ; that I wus one of Generl 
 Lee's trusted scouts. There muster been a thousan 
 people around there by that time, an' you oughter 
 hyeard 'em holler when the kernel said what he did — 
 then I felt so good, I hollered too. 
 
 "Them police knowd Kernel DuPree, for he wus one 
 of the big guns up in the War Department, an' upon 
 his sayso they let me alone. The3^'d a better a done it, 
 too ; but I wus mighty glad to see the kernel, I tell 
 you, for, if he hedn't a come along, somebody woulder 
 got hurt. 
 6 
 
122 TOM AND JOE. 
 
 " He treated me like the shorenuf white man that 
 he is, and axed me up to dinner with him. I despise 
 a man what will honey about you, an' be so awful 
 glad to see you, an' yet won't ax you home to dinner. 
 It makes me think he is a regler ole * stingy bones', or 
 else he aint got no good dinner. 
 
 "The Kernel wanted to know whar I wus stoppin , an' 
 he sorter laffed w4ien I told him I wus stoppin' mostly 
 in the trenches down at Petersburg — that I hed jest 
 run up to Kichmun on a little bizness an' must git 
 back as soon as possible. I axed him to show me the 
 hosspital as I wanted to see a man in there,an' didn't 
 know where the place wus. He wus kind, I tell you, 
 an' showed me 'round to a great big buildin' which he 
 said wus the hosspital, an' got permission from the man 
 in charge for me to go through. After I finished my 
 bizness there I went 'round to the War Department — 
 why they calls it that name beats my time. I didn't 
 see no cannons, nor no bumshells, nor no nuthin' that 
 looked like war. There wus a little army of fellers with 
 soljer close on, but, Joe, you could take a corporal's 
 gyard of your regiment an' clean out the hole consarn. 
 I axed Kernel DuPree what made 'em call it a War 
 Department, an' he said it wus because they managed 
 all the affairs of the war. I then axed him ef the man 
 at the head of it wus a soljer, an* he said no. I then 
 told him that the properest man to run the bizness of 
 the war wus General Bob Lee, an' ef he hed to run it 
 accordin' to the ideers of a man who wusn't a soljer 
 then the whole thing would go a skinnin' up the spout. 
 
GOODNIGHT CAPTURES KICHMOND. 123 
 
 He said lie wus afraid I wus right, but it wus too late 
 now to change things — although I answered him that 
 it wus never too late to try an' fix things right. 
 
 "The Kernel wus so busy that I strolled about the 
 big house lookin' into the difFer'nt rooms an' caleerla- 
 tin how many stout fellers there wus who ought to be 
 down in the trenches at Petersburg, when I could see 
 the rank young devils a grinnin' an' a makin faces like 
 they thought I wus a whole sirkus. I continued to 
 walk around, payin' no attention to them onery young 
 cusses, lor I wus a gittin mighty resless, when wdio 
 should I run up on but that high-flyin' young feller, 
 John Barton, an' he a lookin' like 'who but him.' He 
 w^as settin in a nice room with a c^^arpet on the floor, 
 an' hed his feet cocked up on a desk smokin' a see- 
 gar" 
 
 " Do I understand you to say that the young man's 
 feet were smoking a cigar, or was it the desk ?" queried 
 Featherstone. 
 
 Goodnight rose up to a sitting posture, and trying to 
 smother his indignation, exclaimed — 
 
 " Looker here, Leftenant, ef I didn't know you wus a 
 good feller an' didn't mean no harm, I'd fling you over 
 them breastworks. If I didn't I hope I may desert to 
 the Yankees the next minit. Ef you don't keep a 
 gyard on that long tongue o' yourn you'll step on it 
 some day. How's a man's feet gwinter smoke a see- 
 gar ? An' a desk ? That's one of your fool questions." 
 
 Featherstone laughingly apologized, and when peace 
 reigned once more our giant resumed his story. 
 
124 TOM AND JOE. 
 
 "AVell, as I wus a saj^in' — his feet were cocked upon 
 a desk, an' he wus smokin' a seegar — dog-gone my 
 skin ! who ever liyeard uv sech a fool question ? 
 An' to think that a regler fightin' soljer, one of 
 Generl Bob Lee's own men, should a axed it ! We'd 
 all better quit an' go home ef soljers are gwinter lose 
 what little senses they ever had. Leftenant, I don't 
 see how you coulder done it. It's amazin'. Now ef it 
 had been one of them clarks up to the War Depart- 
 ment it woulder seemed more nacherl like, but fer a 
 regler soljer, who eats gunpowder for breakfast, minny 
 balls for dinner, an' scraps of cold bumshells for sup- 
 per, it is too redickerlus. I don't see how you coulder 
 done it." 
 
 "Hold up, old fellow," interposed Joe, "and don't 
 kick at an innocent little joke. It was all in fun." 
 
 " Innercent little joke, is itj? and all in fun ? All 
 
 right. As I wus a sayin' he was cocked up on a 
 
 desk, an' his feet were smokin — no, the desk wus smo- 
 kin' a oh, damn it! you got me so all-fired mixed 
 
 up, I won't tell the story nohow^ ! " 
 
 "Go on, go on ! " shouted both the young men, "we 
 are interested and want to hear the whole story." Joe 
 continued: "If Feathcrstone interrupts you again I'll 
 put him on double duty." 
 
 Goodnight's wrath, soon cooled down, and he went 
 on with his narrative. 
 
 " As I wus sayin, he was — er — well, he looked at me 
 an' called out : 'Hello, Goodnight I come in, old feller, 
 an' tell me all vou know in about two minits' — an* 
 
GOODNIGHT CAPTURES BICHMOND. 125 
 
 if I had, he'd a had to had his head enlarged. He 
 never offered to shake hans, but motioned me to a 
 cheer with a wave as grand as ef he wus the king of 
 Mountezumer. 
 
 "' Why, John Barton/ " sezi, "*you appears to be 
 hevin a powerful nice, easy time.' " " ' Captain John 
 Barton, at your service,' " sez he. 
 
 "'Generl Caleb Knight, at your service, dog-gone 
 you,' sez I, an* with that he laffed an' to>e me to set 
 down. I drawed up one of them fancy-lookin' cheers 
 with lion's legs fer feet an' two big long tails stickin' 
 up fer the back, an' seatin' myself close to a desk I 
 cocked up my feet too— but Lawd, you'd a thought 
 there wus a yearthquake ! Jest as I throwed myself 
 back to be comfortable an' easy-like the pizen ole cheer 
 give 'way an' down I went" on my back — kerwallux, 
 shakin' a half bushel of plaster off the ole buildin'. 
 Gentulmen, you oughter heard that feller laff! He 
 like to a busted ; but I lipt up quickern you could say 
 'scat' and axed him what I owed him fer that cheer. 
 Well, ser, he laffed, an' he laffed, an' he laffed, untel I 
 told him that a fdler what could be so jolly these hard 
 times oughter be out in front fightin' Yankees an' 
 livin' on corn bred an' bacon. He sorter winched at 
 that, an* said he wus servin' his country very faithful 
 where he wus, an' onless things wus better managed in 
 front than what they wus he would stay in Richmun. 
 That riled me agin, I tell you, so I up an' told him 
 that all them able-bodied department clarks oughter 
 go out an' fite, an* let wimmen and crippled soljers do 
 
12G TOM AND JOE. 
 
 the writin' an' smokin' of seegars; I didn't see no other 
 kind of v/ork goin' on, nuther. 
 
 " Then he axed me how you wus a gittin' along, an* 
 when I told liiin you wus gitten so sevigrus that you 
 wern't happy onless you hed a Yankee every day fer 
 dinner, he 'lowed you muster improved powerful of 
 late years. Then, ser, I up an* told him that there 
 never wus a time, sence you wus knee high to a doodle- 
 bug, that you wouldn't walk over red-hot grindstones, 
 barefooted an' blinefold, ef you seed it were in your 
 line of duty — an' then I hit down on his desk with my 
 fist, and sez I, ef there's enny man on the top side of 
 this ole earth that would say that Joe wern't as brave 
 a man as there wus in this whole Southern Confed- 
 eracy, with Europe an' other heathen nations throw'd 
 in fer good count, I would pound him untel he had the 
 bline staggers. "Would you bleeve it, ser, the feller 
 jess laffed agin an' axed me if I had took a contract to 
 break up all the furniture in the "War Department. He 
 is that ov/dashus. I did split the top of his desk, but 
 they do make some furniture so trifling now-a-days 
 that it ain't good fer nuthin' but to look at. Gimme 
 a good hickry chair with a cow-skin bottom, will you, 
 an' I lay I won't be tumblin' about on the floor like a 
 great lummux. I didn't stay very long in John Bar- 
 ton's room, for I wus feared I'd break some more fur- 
 niture, an' I know'd ef he got to givin' me too much 
 of his slack jaw about the army somebody would hafter 
 hold me — an' there wern't no six clarks in the "War De- 
 partment what could do it. "When I told him good- 
 
GOODNIGHT CAPTURES RICHMOND. 127 
 
 bye I 'lowd I reckon he would be down shortly with a 
 musket to run Generl Grant off; but he aint comin'. 
 He told me somethin' about gwine to hell. 
 
 " Gentulmen, wouldn't it do me good to see about a 
 dozen of Phil Sheriden's fast-ridin' fellers git after him ; 
 but, Lawd ! one man would be enuf, an' that with only 
 one leg, too. To hear that feller talk you'd think that 
 Stonewall Jackson an' Bob Lee had both gone to him 
 fer all their war knowledges." 
 
 " You don't seem to be very fond of that man, Bar- 
 ton," remarked Featherstone. 
 
 "I ain't got nuthin' agin him, but I would like fer 
 him to do some fightin' as Avell as talkin', an' he'd bet- 
 ter tie up his jaw about Joe. 
 
 "After all that rukus in John Barton's room, I 
 stood around in the corrydors, first on one foot an' then 
 on tother like an ole gander, an^ waited an' waited fer 
 the Kernel's dinner time, 'til the sides of my stumuck 
 wern't mor'n a inch apart. Then, ser, after a spell, 
 when I lied about got over my longin fer dinner an' 
 wus yearnin fer supper, the Kernel come out of his 
 office an tole me it wus time to go up to the house. We 
 got into a fine kerridge an' went a bulgin up the street 
 like we were a goin for the doctor. Bimeby we got to 
 a i^urty place away up on the hill, with a big house set 
 back in the shrubry, when we got out an' walked right 
 in like it b'longed to us. He showed me into the parlor 
 an' axed me to take a seat; but I looked at the cheers 
 a minit, and then I told him I hed broke all the furni- 
 ture down in the "War Department that a man was 
 
128 TOM AND JOE. 
 
 'lewd to break in one day, an of lie had a good strong 
 stool, or a bench, or a boss-block, or ennything that 
 would hold me, I would be thankful to rest awhile. 
 He laffed fit to kill when I told him what lied hap- 
 pened in John Barton's room, an' goin into one corner 
 he fetched a little square-looking box of a thing, all 
 kivered over with flowers an' bumble-bees an' things, 
 and he 'lowed he reckon that would hold me. He 
 called it a otterman. I sot down easy-like (of course 
 you know they warn't real live bumble-bees, or I 
 wouldn't 'er set on them), and directly that purty little 
 black-eyed gal come a trottin in an' shook my han', 
 called me 'Mister Goodnight,' an' 'lowd she wus proud 
 of me, an' wus awful glad to see me — I know why, 
 though. 
 
 *'Ef you beleeve me, gentulmen, I coulder eat that 
 purty little thing right thar, without salt nur sliooger — 
 I wus so hungry; an' when she said 'Papa, dinner 's 
 ready,' I jest like to er fainted. Exceptin' of Susan, 
 there never wus sech a gal. 
 
 "May be you think I didn't eat any dinner, calcer- 
 latin' that my mind would er been distracted among 
 sech grand folks; but you don't know the ermashated 
 condition of my stumuck. Gentulmen, I fally spread 
 myself." 
 
 "Another triumph of matter over mind," said Feath- 
 erstone. 
 
 "'Tend to your own bizness," growled the giant. 
 "Who's telling this stor}^, anyhow? AVhy, Joe, they 
 did hev the best truck outside of ole North Carliney. 
 
GOODNIGHT CAPTJJRES RICHMOND. 129 
 
 There wus taters — sweet an' Irish; an' they lied ham, 
 man — shorenuf ham. They hed chicken dooins fixed 
 up in dumplins, an' there wus a great hunk of roas' 
 beef that would er fed our mess; turnips an' biled 
 pork, an' hash — Lawd, that wus noble hash ! Jest as 
 soft and juicy. Then they hed real flour biskits, of 
 which I et about eleven, an' would er made a dozen, 
 but the apple pie, with happy-day sauce on it, come 
 in jest then, so I wus obleeged to take a fresh holt. 
 Bimeby, when we got through eaten, an' eaten, an' 
 eaten, until j^ou'd a thought we wus fixin' fer a seege, 
 an' I hed to let out two holes in my belt, they brought 
 in some coffee. Gentulmen, it wus coffee, too. No 
 beans, nor goobers, nor parched taters, nor okry, but 
 jest the real stuff that run the blockade from Barzeel, 
 an' cost ten dollars a pound. I do think it was the 
 best stuff — an' then that purty little gal, ]\Iiss Ginny, 
 she poured it out — nor she didn't give me one of them 
 little doll cups, nuther; but, Joe, she jest smiled so 
 sweet like an' sed: 'Mr. Goodnight, you soljers are so 
 fond of coffee, I'll give you the big cup.' An' she filled 
 a great big chany thing, all striped and gole, plum to 
 the brim, ser, an' runnin' over. She took up the spoon 
 in the purtiest little white han' I ever saw — not even 
 exceptin' Susan's — an' put in three pilin' spoonfuls of 
 shuger; but, Lawd, man, she needn't er wasted enny 
 shuger at all, fer if she had er jest stirred it with her 
 little finger the whole thing would er turned to 'lasses 
 in a minit. That was a notable dinner, an' when we 
 got through it was plum dark." 
 
130 TOM AND JOE. 
 
 Here the giant gave a great sigh of relief, and, happy 
 over the recollection of those good things, turned his 
 face up to the stars and started off into dreams of "real 
 flour biskits " and Susan. But Joe, who could not sleep, 
 inquired : 
 
 " Hold on, old fellow — you haven't told us what took 
 you up to Richmond?" 
 
 "The kyars, man — the kyars. You don't think I 
 wus gwinter walk all that way through the mud, do 
 you?" 
 
 "Nobody but a nachell-born fool would er made 
 sech a answer," drawled Featherstone, imitating the 
 giant's style of speaking. 
 
 Joe broke out into a ringing laugh, that echoed across 
 the valley against the enemy's wall and caused one 
 watchful Yank to remark to another: 
 
 " Them Rebs would laugh and sing if the last trump 
 were sounding." 
 
 " You are even with me now, Leftenant, but I won't 
 hold no malice agin you, for you are a good feller an' 
 a regler soljer. An' Joe, ef you really wants to know 
 what fur I went up to Richmun', I'll tell you now, fer 
 I may never git another chance. You see, it wus day 
 before yistiddy niornin', while I was cleanin' up my 
 rifle and gittin' ready for a scout, a young feller what 
 looked like he wus jest outer the valley of the shadder 
 of death come up an' teched me on the arm, an'sezhe: 
 ' Is you Caleb Knight, what used to live in old North 
 Carliney jest before the war V 
 
GOODNIGHT CAFTUKES RICHMOND. 131 
 
 "Well, I didn't know what sort of a game they miglit 
 be tryin' to put up on me, so I answers him sorter cau- 
 tious like — 'Prehaps I mout be an' prehaps I mouten't. 
 What you gwinter do about it?' 
 
 "He smiled a sort of a graveyard looking smile an' 
 tole me if I were Caleb Knight, there wus a feller up 
 to Richmun, in the hosspital who wanted to see me, an' 
 ef I didn't come quick it would be too late. When I 
 axed him who the feller was, an' what he wanted, he 
 said he didn't know what the man wanted, but his name 
 wus Pete Brownlow. Gentulmen, you coulder knocked 
 me down with a crowbar, I wus that staggered — but I 
 told the young feller I wus much obleegedtohim,that 
 I wus the man he wanted, an' that I would go the 
 fust train. I took the kyars that left a leetle before 
 daylight an' I've told you what took place in Rich- 
 mun, exceptin' when I wus visitin' the hosspital. 
 
 " When I went into the room where the poor feller 
 lay I seed in a minit that the angel of death wus a 
 knockin' at the door. He wus lay in' there so still an' 
 pale that it weakened me plum down to look at him, 
 but I walked up to his bed an' he knowed me at once. 
 He helt out a poor tremblin' han', an' to save my life 
 I couldn't help thinkin' of how different it looked from 
 the time he hit me such a dip in the stumuck, but I took 
 holt of it an' told him I wus sorry to find him in such 
 a hitch. He 'lowd he wus glad to see me before he died. 
 I axed him how he knowed where I wus, to send for 
 me, an' he said he had saw me fifty times sence the 
 battle of the Wilderness, but didn't let on that he 
 
132 TOM AND JOE. 
 
 knowd me, but now when lie wus about to die, he 
 wanted me to fergive him for the wrong he hed done 
 me years ago about Susan. I told him I couldn't har- 
 bor no resentment agin a man in his fix, an' he seemed 
 kinder relieved like. Then he told me how he wus led 
 by his great luv fer Susan to tell her that he knowd I 
 wer gettin' ready to marry Jane Bridgewater, a long- 
 legged gal what lived ten miles down the river in Tur- 
 key Valley, an' wus only fooling with her (as ef enny- 
 body coulder fooled with Susan), but sez he: 'It didn't 
 do me no good, fer Susan never would listen to me, an' 
 appeared so mopy an' tired-like as ef she wus waitin' 
 fer death to come. I kept hangin' about her 'til the 
 war broke out, an' then bein' desprit, I joined the army 
 not keerin' how soon I wus killed. I went into battle 
 after battle, but somehow the bullets didn't tech me 
 until along about Christmas week, when the snow 
 storm wus so big I stood on gyard an' didn't have no 
 overcoat, so I took cold ; and now the fever in my lungs 
 is a dragin' me off d,ay;by day. I hate to die this way, 
 w^hen it's so easy to die in battle. Don't you remem- 
 ber Caleb, at Cold Harbor, there wus mor'n ten thou- 
 sand dead Yankees in front of our lines, and maybe I 
 wus the only man in that battle who wanted to die an' 
 couldn't, an' agin at the Crater, I wusn't fifty yards off 
 when men w^us tore all to pieces, but the good Lord 
 knowd best. He lies fergiv me, an' if you and Susan 
 "Warner will fergive me, I'm ready to go.' ' Ain't Susan 
 married?' sez I. *No,' sez he, an'ef you ain't a fool 
 you'll go to her jest as strate as the crow flies.' " 
 
GOODNIGHT CAPTURES RICHMOND. 133 
 
 "Gentulraen, I did feel so good jest then that I coulder 
 hollered, but the poor feller watched me so close, aiV 
 looked so anxious, that I wouldn'ter give hira pain fer 
 a bushel of money. I sot by him after that, but he 
 didn't last long — there come a big spell of coffin, an' 
 then turnin' over on his side I hyeard him give along 
 sigh an' he appeared to settle down to rest. That sigh 
 muster been his last breath. After a while they put 
 him in a box, an' takin' him in a wagon with four or 
 five other dead men they rolled away to the buryin* 
 ground. After a short time more, when I was a waitin' 
 down at the department, I hyeard a far-away roll of 
 muskets an' I knowd that was the last of Pete Brov^m- 
 low, until, as the preachers tell us, the great God will 
 come in storms, an' thunder, an' trumpets, an' shoutin' 
 of angels, to call up the dead outer their graves. I tell 
 you, Joe, that ideer of the dead comin' up outer their 
 graves is a strange thing an' makes me tremble. It 
 does seem like some of the poor dead soljers would 
 come up to see how people wus carryin' on in Eich- 
 mun'. They wus a havin' the biggest time the other 
 night at a ball fer the benefit of the hosspital — sech a 
 fiddlin' an' dancin, like it wus in the days of Solermun 
 an' Goliar when the fire and bumshells come down. 
 They'd better be a prayin'." 
 
 " Camping here among these graves must have put 
 that thought of the resurrection into your mind. Good- 
 night," said Joe. " That doctrine has disturbed men's 
 minds in all ages, but we need not let it trouble us. 
 The omnipotence of God settles that question in my^ 
 
134 TOM AND JOE. 
 
 mind, and I accept the Bible teaching. It is folly for 
 me to discard a truth because I cannot fully compre- 
 hend it. For instance — we soldiers often see a strong 
 man fall dead in battle; there is a small bullet-hole 
 through his body and he lies before us dead. We say 
 that he is dead. Almost his entire body is as sound 
 as yours, yet you know he must be buried out of sight 
 in a little while because of decay. No human intelli- 
 gence can comprehend the change that has come over 
 the poor fellow — yet the awful fact remains unchal- 
 lenged. You say the bullet killed him — but how did 
 it kill him? A ball has passed through the brain; 
 yet that perfect foot cannot walk away. He is still 
 and pulseless. That is what we call death ; yet we no 
 more comprehend it after six thousand years of inves- 
 tigation than did our first parents when looking with 
 astonishment upon the murdered Abel. Life was there 
 a, moment ago. Three days ago poor Pete Brownlow 
 was quivering with excitement as he waited for your 
 word of forgiveness — but now you might shout your- 
 self hoarse, in vain. We cannot understand either life 
 or death, yet we question neither. 
 
 "My faith is very simple. I believe that the all- 
 powerful God is able to do whatsoever He will with 
 this poor body of mine. If He has any further use 
 for it He will take care of it. That is enough for me, 
 and I feel in my soul that however the end may come, 
 I will arise perfect in all my parts, ready to answer the 
 roll-call of eternity, and ready to follow the Great Cap- 
 tain as I have tried to follow our own Uncle Robert." 
 
GOODNIGHT CAPTURES RICHMONB. 135 
 
 Joe looked away into the steller depths and wondered 
 if the freed spirit would in its flight beyond those 
 mighty orbits be able to view and comprehend the 
 mysteries of creation; then, rising to his feet, he lis- 
 tened to the boom of heavy guns from the walls of 
 Fort Steadman, and heard the crash of shells falling 
 upon the doomed city. Suddenly he hears the click 
 of a musket and the low challenge of the sentry : 
 ""Who comes here?" — and the quick answer — "A 
 friend." 
 
 "Advance, friend, and give the countersign." 
 
 A young man advanced rapidly, and the words were 
 whispered : " Remember the Crater." Then coming 
 forward to where Joe w^as standing, he said : "A dis- 
 patch for Major Mabry." "I am he," said Joe, and 
 taking the missive he crouched behind the breastwork, 
 w^iere he struck a match and read by its flickering 
 light words that made the blood bound through every 
 vein and thrilled his heart with a soldier's joy. 
 
 ".Camp Lee, Petersburg, 
 "March 24th, 1865. 
 
 " The Commander-in-Chief has ordered this division 
 to storm Fort Steadman to-morrow morning at 4 
 o'clock. The Major-General notifies you to bring your 
 regiment to headquarters soon after midnight, ready 
 for action, and relying upon your known devotion to 
 duty he expects you to lead the attacking column. 
 
 '' John B. Gordon, 
 
 " To Major Joseph Mabry, '' Major-General, 
 
 "In fronts 
 
136 TOM AND JOE. 
 
 Goodnight was sound asleep, lying prone upon the 
 earth at the foot of the battered cedar ; but our gallant 
 Major and his brave young Georgia friend were still 
 restless. We cannot tell the burden of their thoughts, 
 but as Joe paced up and down the little path leading 
 to the main line no doubt he thought fondly of loved 
 ones away off in Louisiana, while Featherstone's fancy 
 strayed along the banks of the Chattahoochie. 
 
 " You were talking awhile ago about the future of our 
 bodies," said Featherstone, " but what about our spirits? 
 Do you think they linger here on earth amid the 
 scenes of their former joys and sorrows, or have the}^ 
 a 'place of perfect rest — some middle state between 
 earth and heaven? That baby, for instance, wdiose 
 little grave is at your feet, and the soul of Goodnight's 
 friend, Brownlow, what are they doing? I wish to 
 know, for I am groping and cannot see my way." 
 
 "There are many things we would like to know, my 
 dear fellow," answered Joe, "but the knowledge might 
 be hurtful instead of beneficial. The good Book tells 
 us all that we need to know. It is very explicit in 
 regard to the body, also the final destiny of the soul ; 
 but we know not whether the latter assumes new and 
 iiigher duties at once, or enters into a sort of proba- 
 tionary existence until the final judgment. The con- 
 dition of ' perfect rest ' is surely not one of idleness — it 
 probably means entire freedom from all that is hurtful 
 or wicked. A soul with nothing to do would rust out." 
 
 "That is all very pretty, my dear Major, but I see 
 3"ou don't positively know much more about it than I 
 
GOODNIGHT CAPTURES RICHMOND. 137 
 
 do. If the soul has new and higher duties to perform 
 I would like to know where the necessity is for resum- 
 ing this old body? It seems that some souls have 
 been getting along for several thousand years very 
 comfortably without the incumbrance of the body.'* 
 
 "Why God proposes to resurrect this body I do not 
 know. He made it in his own glorious image and is 
 unwilling that such a work should be annihilated, and 
 when it is raised again, no matter how battered and 
 disfigured here, it will rise a 'glorified body,' such as 
 Closes was when he came down from the mount with 
 the radiance of Heaven all about him. But what is the 
 use of speculating about these things? I accept the 
 evidence of my father's and motlier's Bible and try to 
 do my duty — may be by to-morrow night, my dear 
 fellow, you and I shall know the truth of many things 
 which are now conjectures. Do you see that flash? — 
 now listen for the roar," — and it ciime booming through 
 the night air like deep-toned thunder. "We must 
 silence those guns or evacuate the city. General 
 Lee has ordered our division to storm the fort at day- 
 break to-morrow, and at midnight we are to move into 
 position. Look at these poor fellows now scattered all 
 along the line and sleeping under the stars like they 
 were at home. You disturb them now and in an in- 
 stant they will spring up, gun in hand, ready for work, 
 but when those stars gleam out once more most of these 
 brave hearts will be forever stilled, and no sound will 
 1)6 able to break their eternal sleep, except the trump 
 that shall awaken us all to a new existence. I examined 
 
138 TOM AND JOEJ. 
 
 the defenses at Fort Steadman as carefully as possible 
 three days since, and I tell you, Lieutenant, that the man 
 who marches up to the front of those walls stumbles 
 over his grave at every step. Compose yourself and go 
 to sleep, my boy, — you will need all your strength for 
 to-morrow's battle." 
 
 Joe continued his restless walk, until stopping at a 
 little mound where floated a faded banner, he leaned 
 against the staff and looked away to the distant South 
 where the stars were shining so gently down on dear 
 old Belhaven, while Tom was dreaming of battles to be 
 fought and glory to be won. 
 
 The great guns had now ceased their thunder and 
 the solemn hush of night had settled over both armies. 
 Only the breeze from the distant Chesapeake moaned 
 through the pine tops or whispered among the sedge, 
 and the hostile warriors were in friendly sleep. 
 
 A few minutes later the sentinels of both armies 
 
 paused on their rounds to listen as a clear voice sang : 
 
 *' I dream of Jennie and my heart bows low, 
 
 Never more to meet her where the wild waters flow." 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 TOM'S BATTERY. 
 
 n^OM did not go to the wars, but remembering his 
 Y promise to Joe and heeding the earnest wishes of 
 father and mother, he remained at home and became 
 a very useful boy. Oftentimes as he saw his legs grow 
 long and felt the strength of young manhood expand- 
 ing his whole frame, the desire to go away and fight 
 his country's battles with Joe became well-nigh over- 
 powering, and in desperation he sought his father one 
 day to beg for that permission, the lack of which only 
 prevented his becoming a soldier. 
 
 "Why, father, I can fight and I can shoot as well as 
 Joe ever could, and I know I'm not a coward. See 
 what a famous fellow he has become, and just look how 
 that Richmond paper that Col. DuPreesent you praises 
 liis gallantry ! He is a perfect hero, and here I am a 
 poor, miserable stay-at-home, with no chance to do 
 anything." 
 
 Then the poor fellow burst into tears, and leaning 
 his head over on the table — the same table where the 
 Judge had sorrowed and prayed the night before Joe's 
 departure — he hid his face in his arms. Veiy tenderly 
 Judge Mabry stroked his boy's hair, and with a father's 
 affection softening his voice responded to this burst of 
 childish grief. 
 
 (139) 
 
140 TOM AND JOE. 
 
 "My son, you are very dear to our hearts, and we 
 would deny you no wish that we think proper should 
 he indulged, but I must continue to be firm with you 
 and control you as I think is for your good. In the 
 first place, you are yet too young, and although as 
 large as many boys of twenty you are hardly sixteen. 
 It is not expected that the children shall fight the bat- 
 tles of this war. In the next place you are doing more 
 good at home raising corn and meat for the army than 
 if you had captured a battery." 
 
 At the mention of that heroic performance Tom's 
 tears flowed afresh. " You certainly have not forgotten 
 how General Adams called you ' A gallant young Com- 
 missary' when you delivered him one hundred bushels 
 of corn for his troopers last fall?" 
 
 *'Yes, I haven't forgotten it,'' replied the boy; "but 
 what sort of cheap praise is that, and who wants it? 
 Might as well have called Uncle Josh, who drove the 
 wagon, ^a noble old bull-whacker.' The war is nearly 
 ended, so you said the other day, and it's all because 
 General Lee needs soldiers and cannot get tiiem. I 
 would rather live one week fighting for my countr}^ 
 under him than ten years of peaceful indolence. Why 
 don't men go when he is calling for them so earnestly? 
 Here are these cavalry fellows raring around all over 
 the country and running every time the Yankees come 
 out from the river." 
 
 " Hush, my son ! You are slandering some of the 
 best and bravest men of the South. All they require 
 is to be taken away from home and given a taste of 
 
tom's battery. 141 
 
 military discipline. We have found out that men will 
 not fight at h.ome when they can avoid it." 
 
 The Judge had stated a truth that military men 
 were slow to learn and did not fully realize until the 
 bulk of the Confederate army was demoralized. 
 
 " Let me say further, my son, that if it w^ere neces- 
 sary for you to go we would not withhold our consent, 
 but you can do no good. If the men are tired of fight- 
 ing and will not fill up the depleted ranks of the army, 
 certainly the children cannot be expected to do so. 
 Besides, my dear son, I am growing old very fast now 
 and your mother will need your strong young arm to 
 lean upon. You know it will be but a short time 
 when the negroes will be freed, and we will be left with 
 only this worn old plantation, should our conquerors 
 allow us that much; then who will stand between us 
 and starvation should our brave Joe never return? 
 You must recollect, also, that Joe in his last letter 
 urged that you be kept at home." 
 
 Tom's vaulting ambition w^as again brought to earth, 
 but as he left the room he fired this parting shot : 
 
 " I was born about five years too late, or I ought to 
 have been a girl " 
 
 Then running out to the stable he saddled young 
 Tudor and rushed like one possessed of a devil away 
 up the road towards the big pasture, and past the tree 
 where he killed his first squirrel. He did not stop this 
 time to admire the famous tree, nor did he stop the 
 fiftieth part of a second as he returned. 
 
142 TOM AND JOE. 
 
 If Tom went up the road like one possessed of a devil, 
 he came back in a few minutes like one pursued by a le- 
 gion of devils, and yelling " Yankees ! '* ** Yankees ! " at 
 every jump; nor did he stop at the house, for just as he 
 reached the corner of the yard pop, j^op, pop, came the 
 sound of a half dozen pistols and a party of Federal 
 cavalry came thundering dow^n the road. Tom's doc- 
 trine was not of the "turn the other cheek" order, but 
 " an eye for an eye " pleased him better, and he never 
 received a blow in his life that he did not endeavor to 
 return the favor. He carried in those days one of 
 those marvelous pistols known as the "pepper-box," 
 and it never forsook him in the hour of need. It was 
 the same ridiculous weapon that Mark Twain forever 
 immortalized as "The Allen," and its usual custom 
 was to go off — all five barrels at once. Turning in his 
 saddle Tom pointed the machine up the road towards 
 the enemy and shut his eyes while it scattered five 
 small bullets over the neighborhood. Then he devoted 
 his entire attention to moving on down the road. He 
 never stopped, but clearing a five-barred gate like a 
 fox-hunter, struck out for tall timber with never a 
 thought of glory and no present desire to storm a 
 battery, but full to overflow^ing with a yearning for 
 the swamp and its peaceful haunts. A few^ more use- 
 less shots at him as he crossed the valley, and the 
 friendly shadow of the forest opened for our young 
 man and took him into its protection, where w^e will 
 leave him to get over his scare while we return to Bel- 
 
143 
 
 haven, which for the first time the raiding enemy had 
 reached. 
 
 As our Tom's first frantic shout aroused the family, 
 the old cook, Aunt Viney, came rushing in, crying: 
 
 " Lawdy, lawdy ! Mistis ! 0, Mistis ! Hyonder cums 
 dem Yankees, an' they trineter kill Mos Tom." Then 
 yelling to the passing bo}^ — "Run, Mos Tom, run! 
 dem debbils gwinter ketch you" — she hurried back to 
 the kitchen, determined to hold it to the last extremity. 
 Mrs. Mabry ran screaming to the gate calling on Tom 
 to stop, and crying to the horsemen not to shoot her 
 boy ; but Tom never stopped, and the rushing troopers 
 paid no heed to her wild entreaties. 
 
 Judge Mabry never lost his presence of mind, but 
 begged his wife to compose herself. "Never mind, my 
 dear, — they cannot catch Tom, and their pistols won't 
 hit him at that distance. Look how he skims across 
 "the valley! Ah, he's all right now, and they'll never 
 get him. Did you notice how the young rascal took 
 that gate? If he learns to fight like he rides he will 
 rival his brother." 
 
 Returning from their unsuccessful chase after Tom^ 
 the party spurred into the front gate, trampling over 
 shrubbery and flower beds with no regret for the wreck 
 they made. We are not inventing a case, but are re- 
 lating one of the ten thousand mournful incidents of 
 the saddest, wickedest and noblest era of American his- 
 tory. This was only a raiding party bent on plunder, 
 and they put intention into execution at once. Swarm- 
 ing into the house by every door, they were soon work- 
 
144 TOM AND JOE. 
 
 ing in every room — nor was there a secret place, loft or 
 cuddy, that they did not readily find. It was evident 
 that this force was composed of master builders, or 
 were experienced hands in the business of seeking hid- 
 den valuables. 
 
 ''Plow are you, old Reb? Ain't you glad to see us?" 
 This was from a burly, red-whiskered ruffian carrying 
 a cavalry s-aber in his hand, who was the lieutenant in 
 command of the party, and addressed to Judge Mabry, 
 who met them on the piazza. 
 
 The Judge replied very politely: "I cannot truth- 
 fully say that I am overjoyed at your presence, but I 
 trust t'hat since you are here you will compel your men 
 to behave like soldiers and gentlemen You have the 
 power and I am at your mercy." 
 
 "Soldiers and gentlemen, be d d, old slave-driver! 
 
 You are a nice looking old cock to be talking about 
 soldiers and gentlemen I We are going to make you 
 help pay the expenses of this war; we cannot afTord 
 to tramp around over this country and fight rebels 
 unless we are well paid for it." 
 
 " I thought you were fighting from patriotic 
 motives. That is what most of you claim," replied the 
 Judge. 
 
 "You thought so, did you? Well, I thought you 
 were old enough to know better. Yes, patriotism is a 
 good thing when it pays. Hand over the keys, old 
 gal" — addressing Mrs. Mabry — "but we really don't 
 need 'em, I can kick a door open quicker than I can 
 unlock it, but it's a pity to spoil the furniture." 
 
tom's battery. 145 
 
 "You are very considerate of the furniture," replied 
 the lady, "and I only wish you would be equally so in 
 regard to the contents." 
 
 " Don't stop to parley, boys ; if you listen to an angry 
 woman you will hear something that won't please you. 
 Pitch right in and teach these rebels what it costs to 
 run the country into war." Then followed a scene of 
 indiscriminate plunder and unmitigated deviltry 
 worthy of the middle ages. Trunks, drawers, desks, 
 and every article of furniture were thoroughly ran- 
 sacked and contents either cast upon the floor to be 
 trampled on, or pocketed for future disposition. 
 
 Like most families, the Mabrys had their jewelry, 
 watches and plate safely hidden away, and many a 
 box of silverware in the Southland never saw the light 
 during four years ; so, when these ruffians were disap- 
 pointed in their search they became enraged and vented 
 their wrath upon everything in reach. They muti- 
 lated the grandfather's picture by cutting out the nose, 
 and smashed the face of the clock with a tumbler. 
 Some elegantly bound volumes w^ere thrown out of the 
 window to be walked on by the horses, and an antique 
 mirror, set in the wall, was broken beyond remedy. 
 Before long they found a quantity of honest, home- 
 made wdne that Mrs. Mabry took great pride in, and 
 then the fun grew fast and furious. One young fellow, 
 who had forgotten his home-training but had not for- 
 gotten his music, sat down to the piano and rattled off 
 a lively jig, which started as motley a set of dancers as 
 ever congregated in a Bowery music hall. It was 
 7 
 
140 TOM AND JOE. 
 
 every fellow for himself and old Nick for the slowest. 
 Such a knocking the backsteps and jingling of spurs 
 were never heard in Louisiana before or since. Some 
 of the marks of that day's entertainment may yet be 
 seen upon the floor at Belhaven. Fortunately, they 
 became goodnatured as the wine took effect, and except 
 occasionally kicking an unfortunate chair out the door 
 they broke no more furniture. 
 
 Aunt Viney w^as cooking dinner when they came, 
 and, as we have stated, she entrenched herself in her 
 citadel and prepared to defend it to the last extremity; 
 nor had she long to wait, until a couple of soldiers 
 with the foragers' usual hankering for the cookpot, 
 undertook to capture the fortress. Pounding upon the 
 door for admittance, they heard the old woman's shrill, 
 scolding reply : 
 
 " You golong 'way frum here whiteman, an lemme 
 'lone. I aint gwinter open dis kitchen 'til I giis 
 ready — or ceppen my own vv^hitefokes say so." 
 
 " Come, come, don't be so cruel," replied one of the 
 men. " Don't you know that we are your friends and 
 are going to set you free ? " 
 
 " G'way frum here, I say, an dont you talk to mu 
 'bout no free nigger. Ef you dont go long away frum 
 here I'm gwinter hu't sum o' yer" — came back in 
 warning notes from the kitchen. 
 
 "Open the door, you old black fool ! If I have to 
 break it down I'll pitch you headforemost out tho 
 Vvundow." 
 
tom's battery. 147 
 
 " Who you callin black fool, you poor bucra? Cum 
 a hunnyiii arouii here an' then like a onmannered 
 critter callin me a fool. My own moster and mistis 
 dont do dat, an' I aint a gwinter 'low no po' white trash 
 to do it, shore ! Call me a fool, do you ! Call me a 
 fool! You po' ginger-faced yallerhammer !" 
 
 A tremendous kick that started every joint in the 
 door followed this outburst, but the blow was not 
 repeated. 
 
 " Take dat fer your smartness ! '^ And the irate old 
 woman dipping a quart of boiling water from the pot 
 dashed it against an auger hole in the door, where a 
 great portion of the scalding fluid passed through the 
 opening and fell upon the two hungry men on the 
 steps. The effect was awful. With yells of agony and 
 rage they stumbled over each other getting down the 
 steps, and it was a race to the well, where one plunged 
 into a great tub of w^ash-water, and the other inconti- 
 nently rolled into the horse-trough. The victor 
 shouted to them as they ran : *' I tole yer you'd better 
 lemme alone, an' you better too ! If you cum back 
 here I'm gwdnter dubble de dose." 
 
 This outcry brought Lieutenant Stubbs and a score 
 of his men rushing from the house, but w^hen they 
 learned the nature of the trouble a wdld roar of laugh- 
 ter burst from the whole party, until it seemed more 
 like a drunken Christmas frolic than the uproar of a 
 set of marauders. 
 
 Aunt Yiney came to the window and holding up to 
 view a smoking kettle said to the laughing men : 
 
148 TOM AND JOE. 
 
 "You may lafif an' laff til you can't stan up, but you 
 better not cum foolin 'long wid dis chile. I got eibun- 
 dance of hot water in dis kitchen, an' I'm gwinter 
 make de nabors think we all scallin hogs over here ef 
 enny more of yer try to cum in dat do' — ceppen ole 
 moster or ole mistis say so. You hear my hawn. I'm 
 gwinter do it, sho, an' you better lissen." 
 
 "Never mind, Aunty,'' said the laughing officer. 
 "You shan't be bothered, but you must not scald any 
 more of my men. If you do I'll pitch you mto the 
 well." 
 
 "Who you talkin 'bout? Me? You gwinter pitch 
 me inter de well ? You better try it. You ain't got 
 bolter me yit, an' you dasent try it. I dare you like 
 a black dog — I jess dubble-dog dare you! Ef I don't 
 scall the skin offer you thar ain't no snakes. An' don't 
 you cum *antyin' me aroun here nuther, fer I ain't no 
 kin to you this side o' Adum. I lay ef Marse Joe wus 
 home he'd make you git away from here in a hurry. 
 Well, he would." 
 
 "Who is 'Marse Joe,' and what makes him so dan- 
 gerous?" asked the amused Stubbs. 
 
 "Why, ain't you got no sense? Whar you ben liv- 
 vin all dis time you ain't hyeard o' Marse Joe? He's 
 ole Marster's son — he's oldest son, what's off in de 
 army wid Generl Lee, an' he ain't erfraid o' no Yan- 
 kee on the topside of this 'uth. Sho-o-o! G'long man. 
 He done kill eleben hundred Yankees wid he own 
 sord(, an' ef he cum down here there gwinter be sum 
 
tom's battery. 149 
 
 more ded Yankees laj'in aroun waitin fer sumun to 
 bury 'em." 
 
 Aunt Viney held the fort until Mrs. Mabry, hearing 
 the controversy and wishing to conciliate the enemy^ 
 came out and told her to go to work and prepare some 
 dinner for the troop. The faithful old ser.vant went 
 grumbling to obey this command, for she was still full 
 of fight, and as she busied about her cooking she said 
 to herself repeatedly: 
 
 "Well, I ain't gwinter put no salt in their vittles — 
 shore." 
 
 While dinner w^as preparing, the raiders opened the 
 barn and threw out provender for their horses until 
 the whole yard looked like a pen for fattening beeves. 
 Then they prowled about the place or lolled in the 
 house singing and shouting in the very abandon of 
 wantonness. 
 
 In the mean time what has become of our j^oung 
 man, whose time to the swamp has never been equalled ? 
 When he reached the friendly shelter of that mighty 
 forest he knew that all the Yankees in the State could 
 not catch him, so turning back to the edge of the 
 woods to reconnoiter he saw the enemy riding into the 
 yard and heard their shouts as they trampled into the 
 house. He had in a measure gotten over his scare, 
 which was mostly the result of surprise, and now hot, 
 indignant wrath took possession of his soul. Shaking 
 his fist towards them, he exclaimed: 
 
 "Oh, you thieving devils! To think that I had to 
 run like a coward the first time I ever met the enemv. 
 
150 TOM AND JOE. 
 
 Bat I'll get even with you before the day is gone if I 
 have to follow you clear to Port Hudson. My promise 
 is no longer binding. The war has come to me, and 
 now I propose to strike one good blow for my country 
 if I never get another chance. If I can only find 
 Captain Ransome in time we will make you shout an- 
 other tune — you plundering rascals!" 
 
 Then turning his good pony, Tom cantered away 
 through the woods to a cow-ford across the creek, when 
 he plunged through and hurried on to the hills, where 
 he hoped to find his friends in camp. He was not 
 long in reaching the spot where the gallant captain, 
 with his scout of twenty men, was resting after an all- 
 night tramp into the low country. Tom galloped right 
 into the arms of a vigilant sentry, who pulled him up 
 in short order, with the remark: 
 
 " You seem pushed, young man. Where are you go- 
 ing in such a hurry?" 
 
 "I am looking for Captain Ransome. The Yankees 
 are just back here at Judge Mabry's, not more than 
 three miles, and you may have heard their shots. They 
 fired nearly a hundred times at me as I ran, but it 
 takes a fast bullet to catch this pony." 
 
 *' Hadn't- you better come down a bullet or two, my 
 lad? A hundred shots ought to have aroused us even 
 at this distance." 
 
 "Well, I'm certain they shot at me," replied the boy, 
 "and if they had fired a thousand times I couldn't 
 have run faster. I did my very best and have hardly 
 stopped running yet." 
 
151 
 
 " Ride right in, my son, and you will find the com- 
 mand just over the next hill by that little spring 
 branch. Don't rush into them too fast." 
 
 Tom hurried on and was soon in the presence of a 
 splendid loking young officer, who listened to his story 
 with great interest, nor did he delay action, for a minute 
 later the stirring notes of the bugle called to arms. 
 
 "What is the number of the party?" inquired the 
 Captain, but Tom could only guess. 
 
 "I cannot say. Captain, for certain, but from the 
 looks of the party as they swarmed into father's front 
 gate, I should judge them to be twice as strong as 
 your troop — may be fifty men — but, pshaw! Captain, 
 your scjuad ought to be able to whip three times their 
 number of Yankees any day." 
 
 "My dear boy, your w\ar experience is very limited. 
 I shall not shrink from a conflict with double our num- 
 ber of the enemy if I can get any advantage, but man 
 for man the Federal troops will give us all we can at- 
 tend to. We will have to be cautious in this case, but 
 no matter how strong they are we must give them a 
 brush. You can pilot us the nearest way I sup- 
 pose?" 
 
 "Yes, sir. I know^ every acre of these woods. Many 
 an old gobbler I've 'yelped' around here in the spring 
 time, and I know I've killed a thousand squirrels among 
 these hills. I'll show you the w^ay, that is what I came 
 for, and if you'll let me I'll take a hand in the fight, 
 too. They Shot at me first aw^hile ago, confound theml 
 and I want one good fair lick at them." 
 
152 TOM AND JOE. 
 
 " All right, my bo}^ We have a spare pistol, taken 
 from the body of a negro trooper — a black Yankee — 
 killed in a little affair down on the Port Hudson road, 
 yesterday morning. We struck a party of about thirty 
 of the black rascals gathering in the stock at the Bar- 
 ziza place, and were right on to them before they knew 
 it. We had the most delicious bit of fun I've experi- 
 enced since the war began." 
 
 "I reckon you hurt some of them, Captain" — sug- 
 gested Tom. 
 
 " Well, yes. Some of them likely never knew what 
 hurt them, for my men carry sharp sabers, and I doubt 
 if more than half of them got back to the fort. We 
 certainly gave twelve of them their freedom — you prob- 
 ably know that we never take negro prisoners. By 
 the way, are you not the son of Judge Mabry, where 
 we took supper last night? We are under obligations 
 to you for the way you poured out the corn to our 
 horses; the poor beasts were sadly in need of supper." 
 
 "Yes, sir, I am Tom Mabry, and while I've had no 
 chance to fight Yankees, I've fed many a good Con- 
 federate's horse when mother was feeding the rider." 
 
 "The good lady and your excellent father treated us 
 so kindly last night that it will be a great pleasure for us 
 to help them to-day, when they have fallen into trouble. 
 Come, I see the command is ready, and we must be 
 riding. 
 
 Aw^ay they went trampling through the forest until 
 the sound of hoofs died away in the distance, then the 
 wild hogs came stealthily out from a neighboring 
 
TOM'S BATTERY. 153 
 
 thicket and took possession of the abandoned camp, 
 while the squirrels and jays chattered and scolded 
 from the overhanging boughs. 
 
 Tom, as guide, rode beside the leader, who listened 
 with kindly interest to the hopes and dreams of the 
 impulsive boy, and smiled at his extravagant ideas of 
 life on the tented field. When they reached the brow 
 of the last hill ere they should plunge into the deeper 
 shades of the valley there came a mighty roar, like 
 the explosion of mortars at the great bombardment. 
 Involuntarily the entire troop halted. 
 
 "Is that a cannon ?" asked Sergeant Graham. 
 
 "Yes," replied the Captain, "but it is heaven's artil- 
 lery, and we have no call to attempt its capture. AVe 
 have been counting it on our side all this time, al- 
 though I have good reason to think that we may have 
 been mistaken." 
 
 In the dense shadow of the forest, where the foliage 
 almost shut out the light of day, they had not observed 
 the sudden advance of one of those summer tempests 
 so common to our southern latitude until they were 
 alarmed by its opening gun. 
 
 " We must hurry," said the Captain, " and get into 
 the low grounds, where there is less danger from the 
 lightning. These lofty trees upon the hill-top will 
 bring down the bolts upon us " — even as he spoke a 
 mighty chain of fire rushed down to the earth, and in 
 its progress shivered a giant poplar to the roots, hurl- 
 ing fragments of many hundred weight in every direc- 
 tion ; then, while their eyes were blinded by the flash, 
 
154 TOM AND JOE. 
 
 there came upon them an awful roar of thunder, so 
 appalling that men involuntarily shrank from a power 
 tliey could not combat, and the frightened horses dashed 
 madly forward in vain effort to escape the tempest. 
 
 "Forward, men!" shouted the Captain. "To the 
 shelter of the valley ! " 
 
 The command hurried on rapidly, but ere they 
 passed the slope the great fountain of the skies burst 
 forth and the water came down with the rush of a 
 cataract. The howling of the wind and the swish of 
 escaping waters were enough to confuse the strongest 
 men. Again and again the clouds parted, riven asun- 
 der by the fiery stream that poured upon the trembling 
 earth with a roar like the trumpet of judgment, while 
 the wind bore upon its wings all the screeching demons 
 of the air. Great sheets of water, like sea- waves picked 
 up bodily and broken into fragments, came breaking 
 and crashing through the groaning tree-tops, and as 
 our party scrambled into the valley they found a flood 
 gathering to stay their progress. 
 
 "Make haste!" cried Tom, "or the creek will be past 
 fording ere we can reach it." 
 
 Being measurably protected from the wind, they 
 spurred forward and plunged into the rapidly rising 
 stream — the last horse swimming as they reached the 
 further shore. Almost as suddenly as it came, the tem- 
 pest passed on bellowing into the low country, and as 
 the rain ceased the whole part}^ drew up upon a little 
 knoll to rest a few minutes and arrange their further 
 j)rogress. 
 
Tom's battery. 155 
 
 "It is only a mile to the house, Captain," said Tom, 
 "and if you will follow this path it will bring you into 
 the road about half way. That is the same road you 
 travelled yesterday evening when you visited there, so 
 you will know the way." 
 
 " What is the matter with our young guide ? " asked 
 Captain Ransome. "You surely don't mean to desert 
 us just as we are about to strike the enemy?" 
 
 Tom's face flushed at the suggestion, but he replied 
 steadily : 
 
 "You mistake me, Captain. I am ready and anx- 
 ious to fight those fellows with you, but I want a gun 
 that will do some damage. This pistol is probably all 
 right, but 3"ou never know who you are going to hit 
 with it, and it's an accident if you don't bring down 
 your next-door neighbor. The trifling rascals fired at 
 me to-day several shots at less than one hundred yards, 
 and did nothing but scare me half to death. About a 
 half-mile below here on the bank of the creek, in a big 
 hollow beech tree, I have a shot-gun hidden away. I 
 keep it wrapped in oil-cloth to protect it from damp, 
 and it is one of the best weapons of any make for 
 close range. I hid it and other valuables, away out of 
 reach of both Yankee and jayhawker, so if they catch 
 me they won't get my gun. The boys all call my gun 
 *01d Eternity,' and whenever she calls something has 
 to answer. I have her loaded with a double charge of 
 powder and twenty-seven blue whistlers in each barrel, 
 so I think I'll feel better with my old friend than de- 
 pending upon this popgun. You go ahead, Captain, 
 
loG TOM AND JOE. 
 
 and I'll catcli up with you before j^ou get to the house. 
 If I don't my father will disown me." 
 
 So saying, Tom put spurs to Tudor and was soon lost 
 to sight in the dense forest. 
 
 Speed, Tom, speed! The hour has arrived of which 
 you have been dreaming since you first begged to be 
 allowed to go to tlie war with Joe! Urge the good 
 pony to his best, Tom, and be careful liow you ride 1 
 Boy, do your best, for upon your puny arm depends 
 the issues of life and death, and the minute has nearly 
 come when your glad young voice will thrill the souls 
 of despairing men like the note of a trumpet! Be 
 true, old gun, for never did your deadly barrels look 
 to fiercer game than awaits you this afternoon! 
 
 "Look to your arms, my men!'^ came the quick 
 command ' See that they are dry and everything in 
 order. If those raiders are not careful we will sur- 
 prise them in the midst of their deviltry. I expect 
 you to follow me, boys, and we will strike one good 
 blow for our country, even should it be the last." 
 
 Away then, as fast as the nature of the ground would 
 permit, they sped in search of the enemy. The clouds 
 w^ere passing off and the glorious sunshine came drift- 
 ing down through the treetops forming transient jewels 
 of the million rain-drops hanging to the leaves. Bird 
 after bird fluttered the moisture from its wings and 
 joined the forest chorus, while the glorious afternoon 
 was filled with melody. Since the storm had swept by 
 the day seemed too calm and })eaceful for brittle, and 
 riot, and sudden death ; but the savage that is in man 
 
tom's battery. 157 
 
 breaks out as fiercely on a May morning as in a De- 
 cember night. 
 
 Oar scouts hurried on to battle, and as they marched 
 Sergeant Graham asked: "Do you think we shall see 
 that 5'oung man again?" 
 
 " I am certain of it," replied the Captain. " I don't 
 think I can be mistaken in his determined look and 
 manner; yet, if we are to have hard fighting I would 
 rather know that he was out of it. A little touch of 
 a skirmish, and let him get a couple of shots with that 
 remarkable rabbit gun of his would please him and 
 square his account with the enemy. I shall expect 
 him." 
 
 If our Captain calculated to surprise the enemy he 
 was mistaken, for Stubbs was an old stager who had 
 seen much hard service in Kentucky and Missouri, 
 and he had long ago learned, by sad experience from 
 the hands of a party of Forrest's men, that the soldier 
 who relaxes vigilance in an enemy's country is a can- 
 didate for misfortune. The raiders were already in 
 motion, coming leisurely down the road in front of 
 Belhaven, both horses and men being fulj^ of good 
 cheer and plunder. Stubbs, feeling superlatively jolly, 
 had broken out into a song, and with a tremendous 
 bass voice was making the woods echo with the doubt- 
 ful melody of — 
 
 " Katrina and the big bologna sausage," 
 but just as he approached the end of the avenue and 
 the poor lovesick Fraulien — " Avay to der kitchen she 
 riin"— there came the sharp crack of a dozen carbines, 
 
158 TOM ANL> JOE. 
 
 emptying severiil saddles, and throwing the entire 
 party into the utmost confusion. Back rushed the 
 front of the column, and after them, with wild hurrahs, 
 came the little band of scouts, under the lead of the 
 gallant Ransome, firing their pistols as they came. 
 Several more saddles were emptied, and it looked like 
 sudden destruction had come upon the hilarious crowd ; 
 but Stubbs was no coward, and the most of his men 
 had tried their courage on many a well-fought field. 
 
 " Halt, my men, halt ! " he shouted. " Are you going 
 to run from a scouting party of a half-dozen rebels 
 like a pack of cowards? Turn about and show them 
 that soldiers will fight ! Follow me ! Down with the 
 rebels and rally round the flag ! " Then, throwing 
 himself at the head of a dozen of his men w^ho had 
 recovered from their surprise, and shouting to his ser- 
 geant to rally the remainder, he formed across the 
 avenue and met the charge of the scouts with a rattling 
 pistol fusilade that did some damage, but could not 
 stop their headlong career. 
 
 " Give them the saber, boys, and crowd them before 
 they can rally ! " — shouted Ransome, and bursting upon 
 them like a tempest, horses and riders rolled in the mud. 
 One brave fellow fired point blank at our Captain's 
 face, the bullet fanning his cheek as it passed, but ere 
 he could amend his shot a keen saber went crashing 
 through; his skull, and he sank utterly dead into the 
 ditch that bordered the avenue. Stubbs fought with 
 the strength and courage of a desperate man and more 
 than one scout gave back before the terrible blows of 
 
tom's battery. 159 
 
 his vengeful swor J. He had beaten down tlic guard of 
 Sergeant Graham, breaking the saber of the latter 
 smooth oiF at the handle ; the flashing steel was about 
 to claim its victim, but even as in fierce joy it descended, 
 it glanced in a shower of sparks from the blade of a 
 master, and he met the eyes of Ransome, aflame with 
 the light of battle. 
 
 " Dog of a robber ! " shouted Ransome. 
 
 "Death to the rebel !" answered the undaunted Stubbs, 
 as he whirled his saber with tremendous fury. But lie 
 had met a saber that never yet acknowledged a supe- 
 rior, and it required all his skill and immense strength 
 to parry the blows that rained upon him. The fight- 
 ing became desperate and brutal at this point, but now 
 the rallied troopers of Stubbs's came thundering up 
 from the rear and by weight of numbers pressed the 
 scouts back, still fighting furiously. The two leaders 
 were separated in the melee and each shouted encourag- 
 ing words to his followers, while their sabers found 
 abundant work in the general engagement. 
 
 Ransome soon found that he was being overpowered 
 by the great number of the enemy, and as several of 
 his force were already down, he saw witn troubled heart 
 that he must retreat to the shelter of the woods or be 
 destroyed. Slowly and sullenly he drew back, followed 
 by the shouting enemy, until he reached the end of the 
 avenue, where he determined to make one more despe- 
 rate stand. 
 
 Even as he turned to meet the exulting foe in one last 
 despairing struggle he heard a boyish voice call to him: 
 
IGO TOM AND JOE. 
 
 " Be ready, Captain. ' Old Eternity ' is going to linrt 
 somebody." 
 
 Then from the end of the avenue liedge came a roar 
 like the report of a mountain howitzer, and a perfect 
 tempest of bucksliot swept the road for two hundred 
 yards. A wild yell from the scouts hailed this new ally* 
 
 " Give it to them again, Tom ! " shouted Ransome. 
 
 When again with tremendous boom the old gun 
 hurled its contents, and before it botli horse and rider 
 went down — while behind it, from tlie force of recoih 
 our Tom measured his length in the mud. 
 
 The blood-thirsty Stubbs fell at the first fire, and 
 but few escaped a wound amid that rain of bullets. 
 
 *• Look out, boys ! An ambush ! " cried one of the 
 raiders. 
 
 *' They've got a cannon ! " shouted another. 
 
 And dismayed at the unexpected enemy and the fall 
 of their leader, the panic soon turned into a rout. 
 
 " Give them the saber, boys, but spare those who 
 surrender," was the command, and away they went up 
 the hill past the house they had so lately plundered. 
 Throwing away their burdens as they ran, and trust- 
 ing to the fleetness of their steeds, the routed raiders 
 fled before the sword, while fast upon their heels came 
 the vengeful scouts. 
 
 And who should be in the lead, upon a swift pony, 
 but our Tom ? Back over the same road the pursued 
 of a few hours before was now the pursuer, and his 
 being the only loaded pistol he was popping aw^ay at 
 the fugitives every jump. 
 
tom's battery. 161 
 
 Up at the house the family were intensely excited 
 when they heard the conflict in the avenue, but when 
 the fleeing enemy came hurrying by in wild confusion 
 their joy knew no bounds. Aunt Viney was still mad, 
 and when the fight commenced she seized her kettle of 
 hot water and made for the front gate, where she took 
 her stand, determined to make it hot for any one who 
 tried to enter. When the rout commenced she couldn't 
 stand still. 
 
 "Hoo-e! Jes-s-s look at dem Yankees! Fo de Lawd, 
 Mos Joe muster struck 'em! Look at 'em, Mistis, how 
 da're gitten over dubble trubble ! 'Pears like da muster 
 struck a whole biler fuller hot water down dare an' 
 da's huntin' a mill pond. Da cum a gallupin' up here 
 fo' dinner terplochety, iilochety, plochtyy an' now da gwine 
 back kerbooJcety, hoohety, bookety, da lebble tipt end best. 
 
 " Lawd 1 Lawd ! If yonder aint sum of weall's fokes a 
 cummin' after um like a black runner after a lizzard I 
 Look at dem swodes, will yer ? In de name of de chil- 
 lun of Iserl, who dat shootin' so big? Jess lissen at 
 him, peepul! Kerboiuf Kerboiuf law, law! Cum here 
 an' hole me, peepul 1 Ef dat aint Mos Tom on young 
 Tudor! Look at dat chile, willyer? Kerbow ! Kerbowf 
 Um-m-m-m. Peepul, lissen at him shoot!" 
 
 Then the faithful and excited old creature began to 
 
 sing: 
 
 " Run nigger, run, patterroller ketch you ! 
 Run nigger, run, it's almost day ;" 
 
 and actually danced about the yard until she brought 
 3n a case of what Tom called " colored hysterics." 
 
1G2 TOM AND JOE. 
 
 The horses of Hansomc's party were too tired from 
 the fatigues of the day, and the long scout from which 
 they had just returned, to allow them to follow up their 
 victory. Besides most of the men had received cuts, 
 bruises, or pistol shots in the encounter, and all were 
 worn out with riding or fighting ; so after pressing the 
 flying foe well on to the river road, they returned to 
 Judge Mabry's to look after the wounded and bury the 
 dead. 
 
 Stubbs and one of his followers were found lying 
 within twenty steps of tlie place where Tom opened on 
 the party with his artillery, and the unfortunate musi- 
 cian was stretched out at the foot of a water-oak with a 
 bullet through his brain. Five dead horses and eleven 
 men were lost to the enemy in this desperate little bat- 
 tle; also seven troopers badly wounded. There is no 
 telling how many suffered, as Tom's showers of buck- 
 shot swept the avenue in succession. It was like 
 shooting into a flock of blackbirds. Captain Ransome 
 lost three killed and several more were suffering 'from 
 severe wounds. Five prisoners were captured and quite 
 a lot of plunder recovered, including three of Judge 
 Mabry's mules, and his stove-pipe hat, which one laugh- 
 ing young devil had worn off cocked rakishly on the 
 side of his head, but which he was glad to abandon in 
 his flight. The victors went into camp under the great 
 beeches in front of the yard, and Aunt Viney was again 
 called on to cook for soldiers. In her enthusiasm she 
 salted the supper twice and forgot to replenish her war- 
 like kettle. Every few minutes during the operation 
 
tom's battery. 163 
 
 of cooking, the old woman would have to stop and call 
 some one to hold her while she gave vent to her joy 
 and astonishment at Tom's remarkable performance. 
 
 " Who would ebber 'spected dat chile do so big, an' 
 he aint hardly done waring long shuts, nuther. Law, 
 law, peepul! Dat chile muster loaded his gun wid 
 bilin' water — an' den see how he cum tarin' up de road 
 like de dogs was after him, a hollerin' an' a shootin' at 
 dem Yankees like who but him ! 
 
 " Man, ser, ef dat boy hader had a swode dare would- 
 enter been not one o' dem Yankees left. He'd a fally 
 skarified 'em, he would. Shoo — gVay from here all 
 )^ou niggers, fer I'm g winter make dat chile de bigges 
 taterpone ever was made on dis plantation, an' I aint 
 gwinter stint the sweetnin' nuther. You hear my 
 
 hawn! 
 
 " Lawd It nussy ! Lawd a mussy, on dem poor ded 
 white mens down in the abenue. Dare po' mammys at 
 home gwinter weep an' moan an' 'fuse to be cumferted. 
 Lawd a mussy ! Lawd a mussy!" 
 
 That night after supper Judge Mabry and Captain 
 Eansome had a long conversation regarding the war 
 and the enlistment of Tom. The Captain begged that 
 he might have the stout boy in his command, and 
 promised that he would look to his welfare as he would 
 for a younger brother. " Besides, my dear Judge, after 
 the affair to-day your boy will not be safe at home. If 
 those men should get hold of him they will shoot him 
 without mercy, for he has no protection under the 
 rules of war — not being an enlisted soldier." 
 
1G4 TOM AND JOK. 
 
 "I must consult his mother," replied tlie Judge — 
 "although I know you are correct, and I will give you 
 an answer in the morning." 
 
 Tom heard this conversation and his heart leaped 
 within him at the prospect of satisfying the taste he 
 had that afternoon acquired for war — yet how often are 
 we doomed to disappointment. The cup comes close 
 to our parching lips sometimes, but is dashed to earth 
 ere we can satisfy our longings. 
 
 When the next morning's sun arose in splendor upon 
 the Southland, the smoke had cleared away from its 
 battlefields, and the long agony was over. Who is it 
 that rides past the dead men in the avenue, and hur- 
 ries with jaded steed up to the gate at Belhaven? You 
 may weep tears of vexation and sorrow, Tom, for the cou- 
 rier who comes announces the surrender of Lee's ex- 
 hausted army,and a cessation of hostilities. You may 
 weep, Tom, for tender women and strong men are weep- 
 ing all over the land. 
 
 Yours is a sad case, Tom, for w^ith your record of ro- 
 mantic daring and unselfish devotion to the »^outh, 
 you will never be enrolled 
 
 A CONFEDERATE SOLDIER. 
 
CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 ♦' FERGIVE ME, JEDOE—F VE COME BA CK ALONE r 
 
 n^HERE are days in our lives that we look back to with 
 Y a strange fascination although the memory of them 
 comes up to us through a mist of tears, and the burden 
 of an old time sorrow grows heavy again. 
 
 We often forget our joys, and the recollection of 
 many of our happiest hours grows dim as a dream of 
 the night, but never can we put away from us the dead 
 body of some old day which shall haunt us until the 
 grave hides us and our griefs. 
 
 Such a day was the 25th of March, 1865, and al- 
 though the passing j'^ears have brought to our Tom 
 sorrow after sorrow, mingled with joys innumerable, 
 again and again comes up the memory of that fateful day. 
 So with Jennie, when in the stillness of some summer 
 night she sees the flash and hears the far-off roar of the 
 tempest, there comes to her the shadow of a grim fortress 
 with deep-voiced cannon, where in the early morn was 
 heard the last triumphant shout of a vanished nation. 
 For one heroic hour the brother and lover was seen 
 breasting the storm of battle, then the pall of smoke 
 came down and loving eyes could see no more. 
 
 Promptly at midnight the remnant of a famous regi- 
 ment marched quietly back from its post on the picket 
 
 (165) 
 
166 TOM AND JOE. 
 
 line and directed it's course to division headquarters. 
 Here it paused while arrangements were being made 
 for the final movement and Joe hastened into the pres- 
 ence of his commander. 
 
 That officer was seated in his tent examining some 
 drawings when Joe entered. He looked up quickly, 
 and exclaimed : " Come right in, Major Mabry I You 
 are always on time when there is work to do. I am 
 pleased to find you so prompt." 
 
 " Thank you, General," replied Joe, saluting. *'When 
 we know our duty it behooves us to be in line promptly. 
 General, please allow me to express to you my grati- 
 tude for this latest display of your kind confidence. 
 Such an honor rarely falls to the lot of a young man, 
 and I shall endeavor to deserve it. I am twenty-one 
 to-day. General, and I could not celebrate my majority 
 better than by doing some good deed for my country." 
 
 " Noble w^ords, young man, and may God keep 3'ou 
 for your country's sake! I know that I can depend upon 
 you and your men to stand firm under the critical pres- 
 sure of the first fire. So many troops who are brave 
 enough after the battle is once well joined, shrink with 
 a panicky feeling from the expectancy of waiting, and 
 it often ends disastrously, when it should be otherwise. 
 I will not conceal from you that you go into the very 
 face of death, for the fort is very strong and will be 
 bravely defended." 
 
 "I know that, General, for I have examined the 
 works and can observe no weak point, but the danger 
 cannot be greater than the honor. I am ready." 
 
'^FERGIVE ME, JEDGe/' &C. 167 
 
 " You but increase our estimation of you," said the 
 General. " Colonel Grace, your late commander, who 
 has been absent on sick leave, has not recovered. His 
 old wound received at the Wilderness is troubling him 
 again, and his furlough has been extended indefinitely. 
 To-morrow, you, my brave boy, shall wear the star of 
 a Colonel, and I wish it were possible to fill your 
 depleted ranks." 
 
 " General," exclaimed the blushing young soldier, 
 *' you are too kind, and the authorities are giving me 
 more than I deserve. I fear I shall not be able to 
 meet your expectations, but I will try. Let me go 
 now, if you please, and talk a little while wdth the 
 brave, patient fellows who are to go with me — ^you 
 kno^v they must help me win my star." 
 
 ** Go, vrith your General's best wishes. You have 
 your instructions. I will see you again at sunrise in 
 Fort Steadman." 
 
 Out into the darkness of the night, and into the 
 heavy mists that were sweeping up from the ocean, our 
 Joe took his way to where his little band of heroes 
 were resting and waiting for the hour of conflict. 
 Calling them about him he told them of the danger 
 into which he should lead them, and what their coun- 
 try required at their hands. 
 
 " It is unnecessary for me to tell you, my brave men, 
 that I know you are ready to go with me, for you are 
 always ready when your country demands a sacrifice 
 at your hands. I have seen this heroic old regiment 
 gradually melt away under the fierce heat of battle 
 
168 TOM AND JOE. 
 
 until now you are but a remnant — yet such a remnant 
 as the soul of a warrior burns to lead. I came to you 
 when torn and bleeding you stood like a rock in the 
 Wilderness. I was with you on that dreadful day at 
 Spotsylvania, when a continent reeled under the shock 
 of battle. At Cold Harbor I saw your front a blaze of 
 awful carnage as the enemy went down before your 
 guns. I saw you spring to your feet undismayed on 
 that July morning when a volcano burst under our 
 lines, and I heard your fierce shouts as you swept the 
 foe into the Crater with your bayonets. I have seen 
 your brave comrades perish in a hundred struggles, 
 and together we have suffered the pangs of cold or 
 hunger all through the fearful winter. We are now 
 about to make one last supreme effort. Death is in front 
 of us, but we have gotten used to him. His terrors are 
 only for the coward or the guilty. Brave men know 
 how to die, and where to die. I will not ask if you are 
 ready to go where I shall lead. I know you are ready." 
 
 A low murmur of voices, wdiispered almost, yet 
 heard beyond the stars, answered : 
 
 " We are ready ! " 
 
 " Very well," resumed Joe. " At 4 o'clock we will 
 pass beyond our lines and rush upon the enemy's 
 works. Until that hour make yourselves as comforta- 
 ble as 2:)0ssible, and be strong for the battle." 
 
 Joe then called Goodnight aside, and together they 
 talked long and earnestly. 
 
 " My faithful old friend," said Joe, *' before we go 
 into this fight I want to ask you to take upon yourself 
 
"fergive me, jebge," &c. 169 
 
 the burden of certain commissions. You know we are 
 going into a place of great danger, and death will find 
 many of us. We may neither of us return, but should 
 you escape and I not come back, I want you to take 
 my sword home to Tom and tell him to keep it as 
 stainless as when he receives it. Tell him that Joe 
 never forgot his cheerful little brother, and that he has 
 ever loved him with a brother's love. See my folks in 
 dear old Belhaven, and tell them that although I may 
 have passed out of their lives I would have them ever 
 cherish the memory of their soldier boy. And dear 
 old father ! I wish I could hear him read from the 
 Gospels once more, and then listen for the rustle of 
 angels' wings as he prayed. Let mother know that 
 the little Testament she gave me always goes with me to 
 battle, as a messenger of peace amid a world of storms, 
 and tell my sweet sister that her lover is safe to her now, 
 but in her joy she must not forget the dead brother. 
 
 " And now. Goodnight, one more commission and I 
 am done. You know there is one whose love I have 
 sought since I was a boy in the dear old home. She 
 has always been very shy with me, and sometimes she 
 has wounded my heart; but that was before she knew 
 me. If I should die to-day I think she would sorrow 
 for me. Ah, if I but knew that. I have no word for 
 her, but you may tell her to accept my last exploit as 
 a message. She will understand it.'* 
 
 " Looker here, Joe," interrupted his faithful friend. 
 *' I don't like to hear you a talkin' about dyin'. Why, 
 boy, ain't you been in a hundred battles, an' ain't you 
 
170 TOM AND JOE. 
 
 walked where bullets were fallia like rain, jest like you 
 was kivered all over ia steel an' didn't keer what it 
 rained ? Don't talk to me 'bout bein' killed— you rile 
 me. I'll bet you six months' pay agin a ginger- 
 cake that you'll come through all right an' that 
 you'll marry that purty little black-eyed gal in less'n 
 a year. It makes me weak about the gills to liev 
 you a talkin' thet way, an' I don't like it. How am 
 I g winter fight less'n I keep up a good heart? Of 
 course, Joe, I'll tell your folks all about you in case 
 there's any necessity for me to do it, but whose gwin- 
 ter tell Susan that I died fer my country when I'd a 
 much ruther went back to her? S'pose some fool Yan- 
 kee weighs my shugar fer me." 
 
 "My dear old fellow," replied Joe, "it is not in your 
 line of duty to go on this expedition, and I do not in- 
 tend to allow you to be present during the attack." 
 
 Goodnight sprang up from where he had been sit- 
 ting and exclaimed: 
 
 "Oh ! you don't, don't you ! Well, beggin' your par- 
 don, fer I'm talkin' to Joe now — not to Major Mabry — 
 how you gwinter keep me from goin'? Jess so shore 
 as you lead this ole piece of a regiment against that fort 
 at 4 o'clock, or any other hour, jess so shore is Good- 
 night gwinter take a hand in the rumpus I I think it 
 dangnation mean of you, Joe, to wanter leave me be- 
 hind, an' ef any man on this green earth had o' 
 tole me you would treat me so, I'd a upt sir an' 
 called him a liar — I don't keer if he wus as big as the 
 sons of Enock. Joe, you don't mean it, an' it aint pos- 
 
''fehgive me, jedge", &c. 171 
 
 siblo nohow. I've been with you in a hundred scrapes 
 an' w^aded through some of the biggest battles in Ten- 
 nessee or Virginy right along by your side, yet now 
 when it comes to runnin' over a little bobtail fort what 
 I could take a good runnin' start an' jump plum across, 
 you want me to stay back, because you're 'fraid I'll 
 git popt over with a bullet — I jest aint gwinter do it. 
 You know very well that I promised the Jedge, an' 
 your good mammy, to take keer of you, an' I mean to 
 do it to the best of my sarcumstances. I reckon I'm 
 your Gyardeen, appinted by your daddy an' mammy, 
 an' ef a Gyardeen don't outrank a Major, then I'd like 
 to know what a Gyardeen do outrank." 
 
 *'My old friend," said Joe. "You know that I have 
 loved 3^ou since I was a boy, when we used to hunt 
 wild ducks together in the Comite swamp, and I tell 
 you now that my manhood strength has not outgrown 
 that love. Didn't you carry my heavy knapsack for 
 me on that awful march from Shiloh back to Corinth ? 
 Haven't you stood guard in my stead time and again 
 when I was so sleepy that exhausted nature could not 
 ])e aroused ? Whose bullet was it that stopped an enemy 
 tr3dng to shoot me at Murfreesboro' but yours, and 
 whose strong arm was it that rescued me and carried 
 me off from the fatal Mission Eidge ? Ah, Goodnight! 
 you have proven youself my friend a hundred times, 
 and now I want to show my friendship for you by de- 
 tailing you for other service this morning." 
 
 " It aint no use, Joe; I'll jest disobey orders and risk 
 the consequences. These here are dreadful times, Joe, 
 
172 TOM AND JOE. 
 
 with nothin' to cat an' old Death so busy that he is a 
 piiitin' every one of his fingers at somebody; so I'm 
 bound, accordin' to promise, to stick to you. I do hope, 
 my boy, ef tliere's a bullet moulded for you the good 
 Lord will turn it to'ards me, fer I aint got nobody to 
 be sorry when I'm gone, an' I aint useful like you. 
 But man, man, we're gwinter hunt the game agin in 
 that old swamp when them blamed Yankees quit 
 huntin' us. We'll have sech a huntin' frolic when we 
 git back, that your grandchildren will hear 'bout it." 
 
 Suddenly the order came to advance, and silently 
 those brave men passed outside the fortifications, lead- 
 ing the way — into the jaws of death. The attempt to 
 surprise the Federals was only partially successful, for 
 ere they had traversed two-thirds of the distance there 
 came the sharp report of a rifle, followed in an instant 
 by a tremendous boom of cannon, and a storm of 
 grape-shot swept over the head of the advancing column. 
 
 " Forward ! " cried Joe ; and with a shout that 
 drowned the rattle of musketry four thousand Confed- 
 erates swept up to the fort and over its walls like a 
 great inundation. It was in vain that the suddenly 
 awakened Federals endeavored with the utmost gal- 
 lantry to defend the works. Officers threw themselves 
 sword in hand upon the line of bayonets and perished 
 in the struggle. Artillerymen died at their posts while 
 loading their guns, and many a brave fellow from 
 beyond the Potomac rose up in the early light to sink 
 back into a darkness upon which no sun would ever 
 rise. 
 
"FERGIVE ME, JEDGE," &C. 173 
 
 Side by side Joe and Lieutenant Featherstone 
 mounted the parapet, and there witli the shout of 
 battle upon his lips the heroic young Georgian fell 
 with a bullet through his noble heart. Joe saw his com- 
 rade fall, and at the same moment he observed an artil- 
 leryman endeavoring to fire upon the crowded assail- 
 ants one of those big guns which had brought on this 
 attack. Quick as thought he sprang to prevent the 
 shot ; there was a flash of bright steel in the morning 
 air, and the unfortunate gunner went down beneath 
 the stroke. Wild with triumph, Joe placed his left 
 hand upon the coveted gun, and waving his sword 
 shouted : 
 
 "Forward, my brave boys! The fort is ours." 
 Then suddenly staggering back he leaned upon the 
 gun and would have fallen, but a strong arm caught 
 him, and a kind voice murmured: "Oh, Joe! I do 
 hope you aint hurt !" 
 
 This was just at daylight, and the tide of battle 
 swept on heedless of the wrecks in its path. 
 
 An hour later the gallant Gordon led back the rem- 
 nant of his column, torn and bleeding, and as he 
 passed the now silent gun he saw sitting beneath it a 
 desolate man holding in his arms the dead body of a 
 young officer. 
 
 "Alas! It is my brave young major." And tears 
 came into the eyes of the great soldier as he stooped 
 above the heroic boy. Then he thought of his mid- 
 night promise, and tearing from his own collar a glit- 
 tering star pinned it upon the young soldier's breast, 
 
174 TOM AND JOE. 
 
 and the ragged old veterans saluted the dead colonel 
 as they passed. 
 
 There amid the very wreck of battle Joe won hie 
 last title. 
 
 " Oh, Joe! Joe! They can come now with their stars 
 an' proud words, but you don't know it, an' you won't 
 answer your ole friend enny more. Why don't you 
 open your eyes an' speak to me, Joe? You don't hear 
 me, Joe? It's your own ole Goodnight what's talking 
 to you. Oh ! Lord God Almighty ! I can't think about 
 Joe bein' dead. Why didn't you take me an' leave this 
 blessed boy?" Thus wailed the tender-hearted scout, 
 and as the Federal troops resumed their place about 
 the recovered guns their leader saluted the heroic dead 
 and spoke kindly to the grief-burdened prisoner. 
 
 " Let me bury my dead," said the poor fellow, " an 
 then you may do with me what you please." 
 
 After a j^romise to make no effort to escape, the good 
 soul secured some rough boards from an abandoned 
 barn, and with the aid of such tools as he could bor- 
 row in the fort he soon constructed two boxes, and then 
 with patient labor dug two graves at the foot of an 
 ancient pine, which then stood a little distance in the 
 rear of the fortifications. When the great sun was 
 sinking to rest beyond the distant Appomattox he laid 
 the brave young Colonel and his no less gallant friend 
 down to that sleep that shall know no waking until 
 thunders mightier than those then shaking the walls of 
 Fort Stead man shall bid the dead hosts arise to meet 
 the Prince of Peace. 
 
"fergive me, jedge," &g. 176 
 
 Alas! tliat our Joe should have given his young life 
 in vain. For when his patient old friend smoothed 
 the lonely mound above his head those great guns 
 were tolling the brave boy's requiem, and his match- 
 less leader was preparing to leave the fated city. 
 
 The bravest note in our song of war is lost, and 
 henceforward there will be something missing from its 
 music which no tale of love, or joy, or sorrow can re- 
 place; for Joe, the matchless young patriot, is dead 
 and the faithful Goodnight is fretting like a caged 
 eagle behin-d the bars of a distant prison. 
 
 Who can tell the sad longing and tearful waiting in 
 the far-off liome when one by one the stragglers re- 
 turned, yet never came the form of the boy so loved ? 
 Many were the fruitless inquiries made by Judge 
 Mabry and Tom for news of the missing one, and the 
 gray hairs of the old father grew whiter under tlio 
 torture of suspense. 
 
 Week sped after week, and the war was ended. Then 
 the prisoners from the forts and islands of the distant 
 North began to return, but still no word of Joe, until 
 one day towards the end of June, when at its close the 
 family of Belhaven w^re assembled at the evening 
 meal, there crept in at the front gate a weary, ragged, 
 and wretched man, who staggered to the door, and as 
 he fainted away through hunger and exhaustion, cried; 
 
 " Fergiv me, Jedge. I've come back alone ! '* 
 
CHAPTER XV. 
 
 MADGE, 
 
 JT^HE old church where the committee that wrestled 
 [ with Goodnight had been so informally appointed 
 was a notable landmark in the hill country. Here, 
 on two Sabbath mornings of eaoh month, winter and 
 summer, from generation to generation, the good peo- 
 ple for many miles around used to assemble, and if 
 that old house was not one of the gates of heaven, it 
 was at least a resting place just outside the gates. 
 Some of the good old men and women were seen there 
 for the last time, and afterwards when inquiry was 
 made for them, answer was : ** They have passed into 
 heaven." That good place must have been very near. 
 
 Of course some persons went without any very defi- 
 nite idea of worship, and with others the intention to 
 worship was perhaps secondary, but one thing we are 
 sure of — there never was a more orderly congregation, 
 nor more profoundly attentive, since the mailed hand 
 of Miles Standish enforced Sunday discipline around 
 Plymouth Rock. No whispering, nor the smallest ghost 
 of a laugh, and if our Tom used to peep over his hymn- 
 book in the direction of Major Carter's pew, he was like 
 the ancient Joey B., *' devlish sly." 
 
 Those Sunday mornings were "seasons of refresh- 
 ing" to the entire community. All the boys and the 
 
 (176) 
 
MADGE. 177 
 
 young men, also most of the dignified gentlemen of 
 middleage, road horseback, and came upon the ground 
 early. The gentlemen of the South rode fine horses in 
 those days, and they rode with skill and grace. When 
 the men and boys were assembled — generally an hour 
 before preaching — ^they collected in groups upon rustic 
 seats beneath those noble old beech trees and discussed 
 the events of the week. From time to time as the later 
 arrivals came up there were the cheeriest and friend- 
 liest greetings that ever fell from kindly lips upon 
 grateful ears, and if there were any heartburnings, bick- 
 erings, or jealousies, our Tom cannot now call them to 
 mind. He was rather young and inexperienced then 
 to observe such things. He was a greathearted fellow 
 who loved the whole world, especially one little blue- 
 eyed maiden, and never dreamed that the world could 
 be in any other condition of mind or heart. 
 
 There were no politicians in this Arcadian commu- 
 nity, but the people were all intelligent, well read, and 
 thoroughly alive to the rush of events. Of course, 
 those ante-service meetings under the greet trees were 
 not entirely free from political discussion, but the 
 venom was all left out. Judge Mabry was an old- 
 school Whig, while Colonel DuPree was a loud-talking 
 Democrat; yet they were able to parry and thrust 
 without even a bruise. If the discussion became too 
 warm for the day and the place Uncle Billy Farmer 
 would hurry into the church, and as he seated himself 
 in the amen corner his trembline: voice would sound 
 
178 TOM AND JOK 
 
 the opening notes of that grand old country church 
 
 song: 
 
 ** How tedious and tasteless the hours." 
 
 Dear old Uncle Billy ! Your kindly voice is hushed 
 to mortal ears, but we will all hear it again where 
 "Ten thousand times ten thousand, and thousands of 
 thousands" fill eternity with music. 
 
 No subject was ever so earnestly and exhaustively 
 discussed under those noble old beeches as the crops, 
 and especially was cotton a never-ending theme. 
 During "thirteen months of the year" it required 
 work, and needed to be talked about. It was fresh 
 when remarks about the weather became stale. " Are 
 you done planting? Did you get a good stand? 
 When will you finish scraping ? Have you run round 
 your cotton yet ? What about the boll worm ? What 
 make of cultivator do you use ? Will you use a sweep 
 or a twister in that sedge cut ? Is your cotton shed- 
 ding much ? What about caterpillars ? You will 
 begin to pick next week, won't you ? Will you com- 
 mence ginning before November? How many bales 
 have you sold, and what did you get?" On and on, 
 never tiring, rolled the volume of questions to the 
 exclusion of many a subject of nearly equal import- 
 ance. Some men could think of nothing else. The 
 boys used to tell as a joke on old man Pennyworth, a 
 rich old five-hundred bale nabob, that his regular 
 Sunday morning greeting to Colonel DuPree was: 
 " Good morning. Colonel ! How is your cotton ?" 
 
MADGE. 170 
 
 It would be amusing reading to tell the hopes and 
 fears of boys about the age of our Tom when waiting 
 under the trees they would catch the distant roll of a 
 carriage. How their young hearts fluttered with eager 
 excitement as carriage after carriage turned the bend 
 of the road and thundered up to the front of the 
 church. How grandly that pair of grays tossed their 
 heads and lifted their feet as if disdaining the earth 
 they walked upon, and conscious of the precious burden 
 they drew. 
 
 With what a lordly air old Cato used to leap down 
 from his lofty perch in front, and with an old-timo 
 bow open the carriage door for the ladies to descend ; 
 then with what an easy, jaunty air one of the boys 
 would step out from the crowd to assist the ladies, and 
 how, despite his enforced sang froid, his heart was all 
 in a flutter and his walk decidedly uncertain. It is 
 astonishing what a small root, pebble, or unevenness 
 of surface is sufficient to trip a healthy sixteen-year- 
 old boy under such circumstances, and then what an 
 amount of blood rushes to his face, while his ears burn 
 and his tongue trips in sympathy with his feet. Don't 
 laugh at him, please, but consider how honestly he is 
 trying to be polite. 
 
 But here comes a noble pair of bays, with harness 
 always black and shiny, with carriage ever seeming 
 fresh from the shop, and driven by an ancient darkey 
 whose good-natured face betokened the kindly soul 
 within. Ah, yes I The shiny old carriage and sleek 
 bay horses, with the antique driver, still linger in Tom's 
 
ISO TOM AND JOE. 
 
 memory, and he would recklessly exchange four hun- 
 dred years of the future if he could go back over 
 twenty-five of the past; if he could see again — the old 
 darkey with his carriage and bay horses? No, no. 
 These were but followers in the train of the princess 
 whose blue eyes and sunny hair are ever present amid 
 a thousand bright and tender memories. 
 
 Tom fell in love early, and w^e might add — often. 
 Somehow or other, nor can we explain the philosophy 
 of it, boys who are fond of fishing are equally fond of 
 the girls. Probably they are fond of most good things. 
 Perhaps the fact of lingering along the banks of a 
 creek in the pleasant spring-time, and having to be 
 quiet a few consecutive hours, have a tendency to de- 
 velop the love-germ that lies hidden in every heart. 
 You get a good, healthy boy quieted down for a few 
 days, and the little god will mark him for his own. 
 Our Tom was a tender-hearted fellow, and no pretty 
 girl could escape being loved by him. We have known 
 him to love several girls at once, and this we ascribe 
 to his abundant heartfulness rather than to mere wan- 
 tonness — an effort to dispose of his vast wealth of affec- 
 tion. But the day came when he was about the age of 
 sixteen that brought with it a little princess who was 
 easily able to monopolize Tom's entire capital, both 
 principal and interest, together wiui all that he could 
 borrow from a score of passionate poets. She came to 
 school one bright winter morning, and bankrupted 
 him in five minutes. 
 
MADGE. 181 
 
 Tom had known her from infancy, but had not been 
 thrown much with her for some years, so now he was 
 all unprepared for the vision of loveliness that made 
 the winter day seem a morsel of spring-time. Life 
 suddenly passed above and beyond the dull reality of 
 "intransitive verbs" and "promiscuous examples," 
 quickly becoming a thing of dreams and beautiful 
 longings. If the boy's lessons were learned that day 
 it was because he w^as ashamed to miss them in the 
 liearing of Madge, and when at recess he renewed ac- 
 quaintance by presenting her a mammoth russet, which 
 he had kept hidden away since the October harvest, 
 his tongue faltered and his ears burned as they had 
 not since the last application of the maternal band. 
 His strength utterly collapsed when his sister Janet 
 cried: 
 
 "Just look at Tom! Oh, fie! See him blush be- 
 cause he gave Madge an apple." 
 
 Tom suddenly thought he heard a call from one of 
 his chums out on the ball ground, and answering : 
 " Yes, I'm coming," hastened away, while Madge and 
 Janet made merry over the apple. Never was there a 
 happier boy than Tom during that session of school. 
 It was generally understood among the boys and girls 
 that Tom and Madge w^ere sweethearts. She loved 
 to play with the big boy who was so tender with her, 
 and so mindful all the while of her pleasure ; while 
 he — well, Tom was foolishly in love with the pretty 
 little maiden, and woe to the unlucky schoolfellow who 
 made faces at her or flipped paper balls at her across 
 
182 TOM AND JOE. 
 
 the school-room when the teacher's back was turned, 
 lie was just as certain to feel the weight of somebody's 
 hand as Madge was to scold Tom for fighting. 
 
 The springtime of 18G5 will ever linger in our mem- 
 ory, and in every history the reader will find a leaf 
 turned down to mark the culmination of tragedy. 
 Tom was happy in the ever-smiling presence of his 
 little Princess, and grew anxious waiting for tidings of 
 Joe, who had disappeared in the wreck about Peters- 
 burg. He was but a boy, and had a boy's light heart, 
 although the entire land was groaning under the accu- 
 mulation of woes. His lessons were so much pastime, 
 and his hours of freedom were a murmuring brook of' 
 pleasure. He would gather the prettiest flowers for 
 Madge, and for her the beech-limb swing was entwined 
 in the shadiest nook. To him she was the fairest, 
 daintiest creature that ever bloomed with the flowers, 
 and we shall ever think that a girl should be counted 
 fortunate who possesses the first worshipful love of an 
 honest boy heart. 
 
 A boy loves spontaneously and unselfishly. There 
 are no considerations of fitness or advantage, but the 
 love just wells up in his heart, regardless of surround- 
 ing, as the pure waters of a spring gush from the 
 earth — sometimes to catch the sunlight in marble 
 basins, or maybe to trickle awa}^ and be lost amid ooze 
 and brambles. It is a fair pearl that is often neglected 
 amid the sparkle of diamonds, and is cast out to be 
 trodden under foot, but the boy love remains to make 
 the man purer and better through all the coming years. 
 
MADGE. 183 
 
 People often laugh at the boy, and call his pretty 
 attachment "puppy love," when, in fact, he is absorbed 
 in the master passion of his life, and will never again 
 thrill with that divine essence which makes the world 
 an eden. 
 
 When the weather grew warm the school children 
 discarded the more active games, such as "cat," "town- 
 ball," and " bullpen," for the boys, " kingbase," and 
 hopscotch," for the girls, contenting themselves with 
 those old time amusements called '^ marbles," and 
 " mumble-the-peg" — the children said " mumbly-peg." 
 
 Boys did not go around with pockets full of little 
 black allies making life a burden with their eternal 
 rattling, but with round honest taws played square 
 honest games, with no suspicion of "keeps" or any other 
 specimen of juvenile gambling. The nearest approach to 
 gambling that we have any recollection of in those days 
 was a game called" hull-gull," or "jack in the bush," 
 which was usually played with chinquapins, and was 
 not really bad, for both of our boys used to play it. In the 
 game of marbles a big fat fellow graced the position of 
 middle man — a much more innocent creature than the 
 middleman of whom our farmers complain to-day — 
 and to plump him from taw, a line about twenty feet 
 away, was worthy to be called a game. Perhaps no game 
 in all the list of boyhood amusements appeals so to our 
 hearts as we advance in years. Doubtless many a digni- 
 fied Senator or Governor of to-day would swap all of his 
 honors to feel once more the long ago thrill of a school- 
 boy game of marbles. Above and beyond the tenderest 
 
184 TOM AND JOE. 
 
 love passages, or the consummation of political hopes, 
 rises the memory of that old game, and no man is ever 
 so dead to his boyhood that his heart fails to quiver 
 when he hears the well remembered "ventyer roun- 
 dance !" 
 
 If our Tom dearly loved to fish, and if he fairly 
 adored Madge, he thoroughly revelled in a game of 
 marbles. To him it was the acme of human amuse- 
 ment, and if he had no white companion to play with, 
 Black Dave or Bowlegged Bob were just as skillful as 
 their white playmates and even more anxious to play ; 
 so he rarely suffered for a game. The girls used to 
 take part in those games, and they were adepts — some 
 of them. Tom was a champion in the marble ring 
 and wore his honors proudly, but in manipulating the 
 knife through all the twists and turns of mumble-the- 
 peg Madge knew no superior. The boy who played 
 with her had, in schoolboy vernacular, to "eat dirt." 
 A peg driven into the ground by three well-directed 
 blows from a knife-handle in the hands of a vigorous 
 girl is not readily drawn with the teeth, and Madge 
 could drive the peg about as well as she could manage 
 the game. 
 
 One delightful day at dinner recess — and no other 
 day was ever half so fair — she challenged Tom to a 
 game, which he without a moment's hesitation ac- 
 cepted and rushed heedlocsl}^ on to his fate. Any other 
 boy on the face of tlie green earth would have done 
 likewise. At her bidding ho would have attempted 
 things more impossible than winning from her a game 
 
MADGE. 185 
 
 of mumble-the-peg. Can Tom ever forget lliu wide- 
 spreading beech through whose dense screen no sun- 
 ray ever pierced, and the little mossy knoll where that 
 fateful game was played? Not if he should live a 
 thousand years. He played that game faithfully and 
 honestly, but he was beaten. He never can forget how 
 with his own pocket-knife the fair little hands shaped 
 the peg, how the blue eyes fairly sparkled with fun, 
 how she rested her tuneful little tongue in one corner 
 of the rosebud mouth, and how with mischievous 
 energy she drove the peg home at two blows. He 
 begged and was granted the unusual privilege of cut- 
 ting a hole beside the peg for his nose — for Tom's nose 
 was not the least interesting feature of his face. Then 
 stooping to pay the forfeit he found — not the peg, but 
 two girlish hands hiding it from his reach. 
 
 "Indeed, Madge, I shall!" exclaimed Tom, trying 
 gently to push away the hands. 
 
 "Indeed, Tom, you shall not!" was the laughing 
 reply. "I just wanted to punish you for being so 
 proud of your marble games." 
 
 Tom seized the hands, and in the struggle the pretty 
 face was close to his. The laughing eyes looked exult- 
 ingly into his soul and thrilled him beyond resistance. 
 What would you have done, kind male reader, had 
 you been in our hero's place? A thousand to one 
 that you would have acted just as Tom did if you 
 have a heart in you as large as a marble. You couldn't 
 have helped it. 
 
186 TOM AND JOE. 
 
 With all his boyish love lighting up his face he 
 kissed the sweet, laughing mouth, and then blushed, 
 boy like, at his own presumption. Madge had been 
 kissed a thousand times before, for she was a most win- 
 some little creature, but not that style of kiss. It was 
 the kiss that is never repeated — the first love-kiss. It 
 was lovers first and sweetest expression. It was heaven. 
 
 Madge flushed like the sunrise as she drew away her 
 hands, and exclaimed: 
 
 '' Oh, Tom ! how could you?" 
 
 "Madge, darling, how could I help it?" answered 
 Tom. 
 
 And then she ran awa}' to the school-room, leaving 
 him with a buzzing sound in his ears and the notes of 
 singing-birds in his heart, while he looked too foolish 
 and happy for expression. 
 
CHAPTER XVI 
 
 '■'THERE NEVER WVS SECH A GAL AS SUSAN.'' 
 
 TIFTER the burial of the two young soldiers the 
 ^ poor heart-broken scout was sent away to Fortress 
 Monroe, where he remained until the final liberation of 
 prisoners early in June, when he was turned loose at 
 the gate of the fort without a cent in his pocket and 
 but a few days' rations to support life upon the long 
 journey he at once began. Wearily he toiled along 
 the road from day to day during the sultry summer 
 time until he reached the pleasant mountain regions of 
 his own dear old "North Caliney." Here he looked 
 upon the mighty hills and clear rushing streams until 
 his soul was filled with a great joy that for a time almost 
 obliterated the sorrow of the past few months. Like 
 a dreadful and beautiful dream seemed the years when 
 the continent rocked under the trampling hosts, and 
 often at night by some lonely camp fire the old warrior 
 would start up suddenly to answer the call for battle, 
 then be would look around for Joe. Poor fellow! It 
 looked like the Lord God of Hosts had forgotten you, 
 old scout, but you were not alone in your desolation. 
 The agony of that time is yet painful, and many a gal- 
 lant heart will yet go sore to its grave. 
 
 But our giant was getting home again. Was going 
 back to the graves of father and mother; back to the 
 pleasant scenes of his boyhood — and to Susan. 
 
 (187) 
 
188 TOM AND JOE. 
 
 There was no poorer and more utterly disconsolate 
 creature on earth than the paroled Confederate soldier 
 who trudged the long journey afoot from Virginia to a 
 desolate home in the farther South ; yet, like Goodnight, 
 he took heart as he neared the old familiar haunts, 
 and the world has never seen a more glorious super- 
 structure than sprang from the bitter ashes of 1865. 
 The indomitable courage of a hundred battle-fields 
 blazed afresh upon ten thousand cotton-fields, and the 
 skill that reared those immortal lines of defence has 
 plucked from the deeper earth its mineral treasures, or 
 set in motion countless scores of spindles. Victory has 
 grown up out of defeat, and to-day that poor half- 
 starved "rebel" of twenty years ago stands in the halls 
 of Congress a leader among leaders. So much for 
 heroic endurance South — so much for manly forbear- 
 ance North. 
 
 Our friend Goodnight felt his heart grow light within 
 him and his step more elastic as he approached the old 
 neighborhood, and so kindly did he feel towards all 
 the world that when he met "poor little fool Si Owens" 
 in the road he could have hugged him then and there. 
 Not being recognized by that old-time mouse, who had 
 "laffed and laff'ed" when he gnawed tlie lion's meshes, 
 he did not make himself known, but passed on up the 
 familiar way until he came to the Warner place, and 
 with trembling heart walked into the house — right into 
 the presence of Susan. 
 
 "Oh, Caleb!" exclaimed that impulsive young lady 
 — "you have come back to me after so many yearsi" 
 
"there never WUS SECH a gal as SUSAN." 180 
 
 "Yes, Susan, I've come back, an' God help me, we 
 won't misonderstand each other no more." 
 
 Into those strong arms all covered as they were with 
 rags, went Susan, and never woman rested her head 
 upon manlier bosom or heard the responsive breathing 
 of a more faithful heart. A few short hours of love 
 and rest, then our scout rose up renewed in strength 
 and made ready to resume his journey. 
 
 " Oh, Caleb ! ]\Iust you leave me and so soon ? "wailed 
 Susan, now loath to loose her new-found lover. 
 
 "Yes, dear. There are them what's waitin' to hear 
 from that brave boy who died in these arms, an' I must 
 keep my promise to him. Unly a few weeks, dear, an' 
 I'll come back as quick as the kyars can bring me. I 
 have no money an' I must walk like I did when I went 
 to Luzyanner first, but I know they'll help me to git 
 back. The good Lord never made better people than 
 them what I lived amongst." 
 
 He then told her of his good friends away off in 
 the South, and of his noble young fellow soldier whose 
 dying words he was to carry to waiting hearts. 
 
 The girl listened with tearful attention while Good- 
 night told her of those who had befriended him, and 
 of his love for the heroic boy. Then drying her tears 
 she said : 
 
 " Caleb, of course you must go without delay, but 
 you must not go unprovided. You must have some 
 money to help you on the road, and here is what I 
 have. It is all that is left of the small sum given us 
 by father when he died two years ago," and the loving 
 
190 TOM AND JOS. 
 
 girl lianded him a little netted purse in which jingled 
 a few of the old-time dollars of ante helium days. 
 
 " I can't take it, Susan, fer you will need every dollar 
 of it, an' I can work my w\ay. No man ever yet 
 starved in this country, an' I can walk my thirty miles 
 a day. Maybe once in a w^hile some of ihe railroads 
 wdll give a old soljer a ride." 
 
 But Susan, not to be outdone, insisted that he must 
 take a few dollars to use in case of extremity, and 
 yielding, as the lover always does, he put into his 
 pocket six half-dollars, and vow^ed he never w^as so rich 
 in all his life. 
 
 Away then upon his long journey sped the faithful 
 fellow, and be it said to the eternal honor of an im- 
 poverished people, that he never asked in vain for as- 
 sistance. Many a friendly "lift" in carriage, wagon, 
 or cart did he get for maybe ten or twenty miles, and 
 once in a while some kind railway official "passed" 
 him a portion of his journey. His poor, tattered at- 
 tempt at a gray uniform, and his honest face, W'On his 
 way w^here even money could not carry him, and more 
 than one aristocratic mansion opened wide its doors to 
 shelter the weary soldier. Often at night, when sitting 
 upon some country piazza surrounded by kindly hearts, 
 he told the story of his mission and the tragic fate of 
 our young hero, tears of sympathy flowed, while many 
 a sorrowing mother thought of her own lost boy. Thus 
 on for three weeks, until near his journey's end, he put 
 forth all of his enormous strength, and after clearing 
 
"there never WUS aECII A GAL AS SUSAN." 191 
 
 forty miles fainted upon the thresHold of Judge Mabry's 
 residence. 
 
 No need to tell of the kindly hands, both white and 
 black, that bore him away to bed, nor of the tender 
 hearts that yearned in sympathy over the poor broken- 
 down soldier. Enough that he wore the color so dear 
 to every heart, and ten thousand times enough that he 
 was Joe's comrade in time of battle and had held the 
 dying boy in his arms. It required no words to con- 
 vince the family that Joe was no more, for well they 
 knew that only death could part the noble scout from 
 the boy he loved so well. The great dread that for 
 three long months had hung like a cloud over fair Bel- 
 haven was now the sad reality of woe, and words are 
 idle to attempt the story of that time of sorrow. The 
 patient old Judge would sit for hours by his favorite 
 post on the front gallery, looking away down the ave- 
 nue where his son had ridden out of sight just four 
 years before, and as the blessed tears came to soothe 
 his suffering heart he felt in his soul the peace that is 
 beyond our human comprehension. Tom wandered 
 about over the plantation seeking for something that 
 was lost, and ever as he wandered there would come 
 up to him a refrain from that sad little song: 
 ** Oh, call my brother back to me !" 
 
 Then there came over him an uncontrollable desire 
 to go again to the well-remembered haunts where he 
 and Joe spent that last memorable day. He strolled 
 away to the creek where they fished so happily on 
 the day that heard the first gun at Sumter, and he 
 
192 TOxM AND JOE. 
 
 listened while the musical waters still rippled over the 
 
 log where Joe caught the famous trout, but in vain he 
 
 waited 
 
 *' for the touch of a vanished hand, 
 
 And the sound of a voice that is still." 
 
 There upon the smooth bark of a great holly that 
 stands upon the bank of the creek were the carved ini- 
 tials "J. M." and "J. D." The letters were dim to the 
 boy's vision that day — dimmer than now when the 
 mosses of twenty years are clinging to the bark. Wher- 
 ever he went there were things to remind him of Joe. 
 Upon that mighty oak Joe had killed six squirrels one 
 autumn morning, and the great magnolia spreading 
 above the spring branch had sheltered a gobbler that 
 fell before the boy's unerring rifle. What boy besides 
 Joe had the nerve to climb the old tupelo in the 
 slashes for the vagrant coon? Upon the base of a 
 lightning-blasted oak that stood just beyond the sedge- 
 field were traces of a fire the boys had kindled one 
 winter night when hunting with Uncle Zeb, and upon 
 that log they were seated while the old man told them 
 a marvelous story of a catamount he had conquered in 
 the long ago. Tom seated himself where Joe had 
 rested, and scratching down to the root of the tree found 
 ashes — but not fresh ashes like those then gathering 
 about his heart. At every step something sprang up 
 to claim a sigh until he hurried home for sympathy. 
 
 Since that sad day the resistless years have thun- 
 dered by building up and pulling down mighty 
 empires; the waters have worn away the log where 
 
" THERE NEVER WUS SECH A GAL AS SUSAN." 193 
 
 Joe caught the famous fish, and the attrition of many 
 a winter's rain has brought the hillside sands to fill 
 the lurking place of the trout. Tom's raven locks 
 show the pale touches of sorrow, the memory of Joe is 
 still fresh under the burden of more than tw^enty years, 
 and the boy love for his big brother has never grown 
 old. 
 
 When Goodnight had sufficiently recovered his 
 strength and was able to come down to the sitting- 
 room the family w^ere all assembled to hear him tell 
 his story. 
 
 ^You know% my friend," said the Judge very sol- 
 emnly, " what we are waiting to hear." There was a 
 painful pause of a few moments while the scout tried 
 to press down a lump that would rise in his throat, 
 then he began: 
 
 " Oh, Jedgel It breaks my heart agin to be herein 
 his old home an' know that his bright face is gone 
 from us forever. I thought durin' the time I w^us in 
 prison, an' durin' my long journey here, that I hed 
 sorter got over it; but Lawd! Lawd! it all comes back 
 to me so strong that I aint a man enny more." 
 
 Here the brave fellow burst into tears, and for a few 
 minutes there was no sound save the sighs and sobs of 
 mourners — -then bowing upon his knees the aged father 
 lifted his trembling voice to Him who wipes away all 
 tears, and once more in that blessed old room there was 
 the rustle of angel wings while the comfort of the Holy 
 One came down into every heart. 
 9 
 
194 TOM AND JOE. 
 
 "I wish I could tell you all aboutliim,"resumed Good- 
 night, "but I aint got enny fine words so as to give you 
 enny ideer what a noble fellow Joe was. He was al- 
 ways ready to do his duty an' no man ever had a kinder 
 heart in his buzom. When it come to a fight he wus 
 one of the certenest men you ever seed. He w^ould jest 
 clinch his teeth an' wade right in no matter if it wer 
 rainin' bullets, an' when he come across a wounded 
 inemy he w^us jest as kind as if it was his own brother. 
 He never did luv the war, but he was into it for all it 
 wus wuth, an' if General Lee had o' told him to take 
 his regiment an' go up to Richmun an' clear that War 
 Department plum out, gentulmen, he wouldn't a left 
 hair nor hide of it — woulder jest nachully a tumbled 
 every one of 'em into the Jeems river. Oh, he'd a done 
 it ! When he wus in camp he never would fergit me 
 an' if he didn't hev but t ' taters for a day's ration he 
 would save one of 'em for me, thinkin' maby I'd come 
 in ofFen a scout Iiongry — but Lawd ! I warn't gwinter 
 go without feed if there wus ennything to be had. I 
 ingenerally picked up lots of truck o' one sort an' a 
 nuther out in the country an' was more likely to have 
 sumethin' for him." 
 
 Goodnight never tired of telling about Joe's battles, 
 or of his days and nights in the trenches. He would 
 dwell with animated face and voice upon the story of 
 Shiloh, Murfreesboro', Jackson, Chickamauga, Mission 
 Ridge, Cold Harbor, Spotsylvania, and all those fierce 
 fights about Petersburg, but ever as he came to that 
 
"there never WUS SECH a gal as SUSAN." 195 
 
 last sad morning he would think of some other detail 
 of camp life or some other story of battle. 
 
 " But I must come to the last an' tell you how me 
 an' Joe parted company." 
 
 Then he detailed all the incidents of that talk under 
 the stars, and of the last wild struggle. How they 
 rushed over the walls and bayoneted the defenders at 
 their post ; how as the bright sword flashed in the early 
 lio^ht the cruel bullet did its work, and how with the 
 name of father and Jennie upon his lips the young 
 soldier turned his brave face up to the brightening 
 east and died with a smile. 
 
 "God forgiv me, but I did rebel agin his decrees 
 right there, an' I did think it wus cruel to let that boy 
 be killed, with me left livin right along side of him. 
 Oh, Jedge! You orter seen him when he put one hand 
 on that big cannon, an' wavin his sword — his face 
 lighted up jest like the flash that was comin all over 
 the east, an' he shouted as clare as the sound of a rifle 
 on a frosty mornin. Then when I caught him in my 
 arms he jest smiled as peaceable like as a child, an' he 
 said: 
 
 " Goodnight, the war is over an' I'm goin home.' 
 
 " Then he shet his eyes like he wus gwine to sleep. 
 Torectly I put my hand on his side an' felt fer his 
 heart, but it wus still. 
 
 " Them Yankees wus jest as kind to me as if I'd 
 been one of their own men, an' when they got back to 
 the big gun whar me an' Joe wus and seed their men 
 layin dead as thick as leaves, they wus solium, I tell 
 
196 TOM AND JOE. 
 
 you. The officer in charge of the gun wus jest as ten- 
 der as a 'oman, an' helped me Lay Joe out in a blanket; 
 then he showed me whar to git some tools fer makin a 
 coffin and diggin the grave. He come back to that 
 big pine tree whar I wus diggin, an' when I wus plum 
 tired out he took holt with his own hands an' dug like 
 it wus his own friend he wus workin fer. Heb'longed 
 to a New York regiment, an' when I went off to prizon 
 he took charge of Joe's sword an' said I could git it 
 when I wus exchanged. I told him your name an' 
 whar you lived, so he could put it down in a little 
 book, an' if he lives you'll hear from him some 
 day." 
 
 Thus ended his sad story which he had traveled 
 nearly a irhousand miles to tell; then the old scout lin- 
 gered for a week or more with his good friends. Before 
 he left he went over one day to pay his respects to Col. 
 DuPree, and tell Jennie of her lover's last hours. 
 
 The news had already spread, and of the fate of the 
 young soldier Jennie had heard. This was but con- 
 firmation of the dread in her heart that had lain there 
 since during those awful last days in Richmond she 
 had heard that Joe was missing. Our tender-hearted 
 scout was melted again when the proud little lady 
 came into his presence. Poor Jennie ! Her false pride 
 had vanished in the presence of her love. When 
 Goodnight had told her all and come away she knew 
 what the dead boy's message meant; then the little 
 woman covered her face, and refusing to be comforted 
 continually moaned : 
 
"there never WUS SECH a gal as SUSAN." 197 
 
 "Oh, Joe! My brave darling I I wounded j'our 
 love, and now you will never come back to me." 
 
 Judge Mabry loaned his dead son's friend money 
 enough to purchase suitable clothing and pay his fare 
 back to his old home, where he went, and for more than 
 two years there was no word from him until one day 
 there came from the post-office a letter directed in a 
 bold, angular and decidedly peculiar hand, and bear- 
 ing a strange North Carolina post-mark. Tom was at 
 home from College, it being vacation, and we may well 
 imagine that the entire famil}^ listened with rare pleasure 
 to the following rambling epistle from their old friend : 
 
 " JoETOWN, North Carolina, 
 "August 16th, 1867. 
 
 " Dear Judge : I know yow. all will be pleased to hear 
 from me and I have no excuse for not writing earlier 
 except a desire to surprise j^ou pleasantly. Well, I came 
 home directly from your house and found Susan look- 
 ing prettier and sweeter than ever. You may imagine 
 I didn't take any excuse but went to see the parson 
 and in one week we were married. I am still the hap- 
 jjiest man in *01e North Carliney,' and I still don't care 
 who knows it. Well, sir, as soon as we were married 
 she took hold of me and said that whilst I was good 
 enough for her, or anybody else, yet for my own sake 
 she proposed to put an extra polish on me. Would you 
 believe it, sir ? She got some books and put me regu- 
 larly at school. She was the teacher and it would have 
 made a horse laugh to hear me spell. Of course I 
 
198 TOM AND JOE. 
 
 knew a little about spelling — mostly the phonetic style, 
 as Susan called it, but she made me buckle to and learn. 
 It was well she took hold of me in time, for when I got 
 well used to her I was so interested in my studies that 
 a regiment of cavalry couldn't have stopped me. I 
 have learned about all that Susan can teach me — and 
 her father was sensible enough to give her a fair edu- 
 cation for this backwoods country — so you see I am a 
 long ways in advance of my educational condition of 
 two years ago. I reckon I am still what poor dear, Joe, 
 used to call *a rough diamond,' but Susan has polished 
 me somewhat. 
 
 "In the mean time I had to work very hard, but there 
 was an excellent valley on Susan's place, and I made 
 good crops, so what with plenty of deer in the moun- 
 tains and trout in the river we never suffered for pro- 
 visions. 
 
 " This would seem to be enough good fortune for a 
 poor devil like me, but there was more luck in the pot 
 for me, and I couldn't keep my hands away from it. 
 A poor little hundred-acre farm that was my boyhood 
 home was still mine, but there was no good soil on it, 
 and as it joined Susan's place I used it for a hog pas- 
 ture — there being a world of mast on it in the fall. 
 About one year ago a man from Pennsylvania — that 
 place with the long name, that riled me so the first 
 time we met — came here and examined the hills for 
 several days. He sta3^ed at my house, and I noticed 
 that he wandered about my hog-pasture so much that 
 I began to suspect him of designs upon my shoats, so 
 
"there never WUS SECH a gal as SUSAN." 199 
 
 I ' upt ' and asked him what he was after. He said he 
 liked the country, and if I would take five hundred 
 dollars for that little tract it was a bargain. Now I 
 had heard of five hundred such bargains, so I looked 
 him right square in the face and told him that the 
 land was worth more to me than it possibly could be 
 to him — seeing that he didn't have any hogs to feed — 
 and that if he had discovered anything of value about 
 the place I would do the fair thing for the information. 
 You see I began to smell a gold mine at once, but he 
 told me that there was enough granite of fine quality, 
 and easy of access, in that old hill where I sat that 
 night when the devil was wrestling with me about Pete 
 Brownlow, to build a city, and that he was authorized 
 to offer me twenty thousand dollars for the property. 
 
 " When I heard that sum of money named I like to 
 have fainted, but I told him I would answer him in 
 half an hour. You see I wanted to talk with Susan 
 about it and get her opinion, for you must know that 
 I still cling to my old assertion that Hhere never wus 
 sech a gal as Susan.' After we talked it over I told 
 the man that if the property was worth twenty thou- 
 sand dollars a half interest ought to be worth ten thou- 
 sand, and that I would rather not sell the whole thing. 
 He finally told me that they would give me the ten 
 thousand in cash and ten thousand in non-assessable 
 stock, besides making me the vice-president of the 
 company. 
 
 " That big title settled me, so now I have the money 
 and am a vice-president. We have two hundred men 
 
200 TOM AKD JOE. 
 
 at work, have run a tap of the railroad up to the quarry, 
 have built a town, established a post-office, and are 
 doing a hog-killing business. We keep up such a row 
 all the time with giant cartridges that I have to go ten 
 miles off to find a deer, and I sometimes dream that I 
 am back in Petersburg. 
 
 "They wanted to call the town Knighton, but I stuck 
 out for ' Joetown,' and so it is. I have just been elected 
 to the Legislature from this county, and must spend 
 a part of my time trying to get used to the city ways 
 and airs of Raleigh. The other fellow said that he 
 could prove that I stole a horse when I lived in Louis- 
 iana, but when I told him that unless he did prove it 
 I would make him eat a peck of dirt at one meal he 
 * 'lowed' he was joking. He didn't carry the joke any 
 further. 
 
 "Well, my dear Judge, I have written a long letter, 
 for me, and now I must close. My regards to Major 
 Carter and Colonel DuPree, and if you ever see John 
 Barton tell him I have quit the furniture-breaking 
 business. Please remember me to all my old friends, 
 to whom I shall always feel grateful for so many acts 
 of kindness received while in your midst. God bless 
 you! 
 
 "With much love for you and yours, I am your 
 grateful friend, Caleb Knight, V. P. 
 
 " P. S. — There is the finest boy in old North Caro- 
 lina at our house, and we call him Joseph Mabry 
 Knight." 
 
"there never WUS SECH a gal as SUSAN." 201 
 
 On the third anniversary of Joe's death a carriage 
 containing a lady and two gentlemen drove out from 
 Petersburg. One of the gentlemen was a tall, boyish- 
 looking young man about nineteen years of age; the 
 other was a person of gigantic frame, and kindly face 
 nearly hidden under a heavy brown beard, both hair 
 and beard more streaked with white than his age would 
 justify. Their companion was dressed in black, and 
 her fair face showed traces of sorrow, but no tears had 
 ever been able to quench the brightness of those eyes, 
 that had in years gone by looked down into the soul 
 of the poor soldier boy and made him a captive forever. 
 
 When the carriage stopped at the grass-grown line of 
 earthworks the occupants alighted, and the elder gentle- 
 man acting as guide, they climbed into the fortifications. 
 
 "Here," said Goodnight, "is the place where we 
 passed out of our works, and just by that little clump 
 of oaks your brother led his regiment. Just there, 
 Tom, the alarm was given, and as we mounted that 
 little rise the first load of grape and canister passed 
 over our heads. The next shot piled up some gallant 
 fellows, and the third would have done a power of mis- 
 chief if Joe hadn't been so quick and stopped the fel- 
 low who was fixing the lanyard. This is the way we 
 went, and there in front of us are the walls of Fort 
 Steadman, where so many of our brave men lost their 
 lives." 
 
 Jennie snuddered as she looked upon those mute 
 mementoes of the great struggle, and Tom's heart 
 swelled within him as he thought of the heroic boy 
 
202 TOM AND JOE. 
 
 who climbed over those walls amid the storm of battle. 
 When they reached the fort Goodnight helped Jennie 
 across the ditch and upon the walls. 
 
 "Here is the place we mounted," said he, "and right 
 across this point young Featherstone, Joe's friend, was 
 lying with a bullet in his heart. See this little flat 
 cove of a place with the rotting timbers! Here was 
 the big cannon, and under it I sat down with Joe iu 
 my arms, taking no more interest in the battle than if 
 I had been a thousand miles away. It makes me right 
 weak now to think about it." 
 
 Jennie's fortitude had sustained her admirably up to 
 this point, but here she broke down and the sweet little 
 woman wept as if it were but yesterday that her lover 
 died. Tom tried to be a man and keep back the great 
 lump that was in his throat, but the poor fellow utterly 
 failed, and, going aside to a little mound, sat down and 
 wiped away the blessed tears that came direct from his 
 soft, boyish heart. No shame upon him that he should 
 weep, but rather sham^ upon the man whose heart- 
 fountains are dried and w^hose tenderest feelings have 
 been allowed to wither. 
 
 After awhile they passed on to the graves under the 
 tree, and there beneath that mighty pine they lingered 
 until the western sky flushed red about the setting sun. 
 Then, as the whippoorwill in a neighboring thicket 
 struck up his evening song, the fair girl took leave of 
 her dead lover and went slowly away through the twi- 
 light to begin another volume of life, in_which Joe 
 will only be known as a holy memory.' ~ 
 
"there never WUS SECH a gal as SUSAN." 203 
 
 And here we, too, must leave one of our heroes to 
 sleep with the "noble army of martyrs," taking this 
 comfort in our sorrow — the tenderest love and the sub- 
 limest patriotism of all the coming years will cluster 
 about that lowly grave, and all heroic endeavor will 
 emulate the dead defender of a vanished nation. \Ye 
 leave you now, dear Joe ; but the young men and 
 maidens will strew your grave with flowers at every 
 return of spring, and by the hearthstone on many a 
 winter night the old soldier will tell to wondering little 
 ones the story of your death. 
 
CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 TOM THE PLO UOHMAN AND BURNS THE POET. 
 
 T TT HEN all armed resistance to the Federal authority 
 ^^ ceased the people of the South had reason to dread 
 the return of civil authority. The magnanimous terms 
 proposed by General Grant at the surrender were re- 
 garded with wonder, but they knew that with the end 
 of the war would come the end of that remarkable 
 man's power; that when the army was disbanded and 
 the fierce warriors of the hustings garrisoned every 
 courthouse all over the land, there w^ould come such a 
 time of proscription and petty- wrongs as never before 
 humiliated a brave people. They were not mistaken. 
 True it is, there were but few imprisonments, and no 
 executions diitctly on account of the war, nor were the 
 terms of the military surrender violated, but a policy 
 was adopted in settling the political affairs of the se- 
 ceded States that for ten years after hostilities ceased 
 engendered feelings more antagonistic than those made 
 alive in actual conflict. 
 
 We will not discuss the policy of Reconstruction, for 
 in the light of history it proved a mournful failure. 
 We may forget the horrors of the war when we remem- 
 l)er its glory, but the insults of after days will never be 
 forgotten. The people of the South absolutely refused 
 
 (204) 
 
TOM THE PLOUGHMAN AND BURNS THE POET. 205 
 
 to be comforted by such a return into the Union, and 
 would not be reconstructed. They turned their atten- 
 tion to the great problem of making a living under the 
 new order of things, and left political matters to their 
 former slaves, who were marshaled by as conscience- 
 less a set of plunderers as ever held office. They did 
 not willingly or carelessly neglect public affairs, but 
 such a vast number were disfranchised that the remain- 
 der would not engage in a controversy that was as 
 hopeless as it was nauseating — besides, while unarmed 
 and helpless, they w^ould not engage in a struggle with 
 armed men. They thought the w^ar had ended with 
 the surrender of the armies, but soon found out their 
 mistake. It was hard enough to remain at home in 
 sullen indifference and eschew politics, but when reck- 
 less financial management, rightfully called stealing, 
 had destroyed the last vestige of State credit, and no 
 more bonds could be sold at even the most ruinous dis- 
 count, the spoilers reached out after the property of the 
 people with a rate of taxation and assessment that w^as 
 equivalent to confiscation. The people stood all the 
 exactions and arbitrary thefts of certain bureau officials, 
 but w^hen affairs culminated in bankruptcy, there was 
 another " rebellion." The first, so-called, was in favor of 
 "States rights," the last was for individual rights. The 
 former was for a political theory; the latter for preser- 
 vation of homes, for wives and little ones. It was 
 bound to succeed. No array of bayonets nor the thun- 
 der of cannon can coerce a people defending tlieir 
 homes. The people of the North did not comprehend 
 
206 TOM AND JOE. 
 
 the condition of affairs in the South. They do not now. 
 They had acquiesced in a policy adopted by their lead- 
 ers and took no further interest in tlie matter — except 
 that for years they heedlessly endorsed every act of the 
 party in power, without inquiring into its justice. 
 
 Not ten days would the people of Pennsylvania have 
 endured such outrages as were the common lot of the 
 property owners in Louisiana for years. The fires of 
 rebellion would have glowed from the Delaware to the 
 Alleghany until the curse was removed, and the west- 
 ern mountains would have trembled under the thun- 
 ders of outraged liberty. Yet, it is a fact that for more 
 than ten years the people of the latter State suffered 
 and waited, however impatiently, for the mailed hand 
 to be taken from their throats — all the while being as- 
 sured that the war had ended. Under the stress of a 
 new public opinion North, the heavy military hand 
 was removed, and as the temporal power of Rome 
 passed away with French bayonets, so the robber rule 
 ended in Louisiana, when the last blue coat filed out 
 of the State-house, leaving the people to republican lib- 
 erty and the management of their own affairs. Once 
 in a while some candid business man from one of the 
 great cities would visit the South and with keen per- 
 ception would note the wretched state of affairs, then 
 upon his return home he would tell w^itli indignation 
 the story of the wrongs endured by that people until 
 the generous sense of a great nation w^as aroused, and 
 tliey saw with dismay that in emancipating and enfran- 
 chising the slave they had enslaved the master. The 
 
TOM THE PLOUGHMAN AND BURNS THE POET. 207 
 
 American people are primarily just in their ideas and 
 estimate of things, but in the mad struggle for busi- 
 ness they sometimes forget the claims of justice — yet 
 not long. The heart and brain of the individual as 
 well as of the nation are in the closest sympathy, and 
 generally we find the most careful judgment hand in 
 hand with the w^armest sentiment. 
 
 We mention this condition of affairs because it affects 
 the fortunes of some of our characters, and is far reach- 
 ing in its influences upon their lives. 
 
 In the midst of these political troubles Tom went 
 away to college, and years passed before he realized 
 the patient labor and loving sacrifices of his good old 
 father that enabled him to remain. We think had he 
 done so earlier he w^ould have employed his time to 
 better purpose. He w^ould have studied harder and 
 thought less of frolicking. No doubt he would have 
 promenaded fewer times under the oaks in front of the 
 "Gallery," a name bestowed by the students upon a 
 certain young ladies' academy in the same village. 
 Instead of tinkling his guitar and catching cold to the 
 tune of the "Lone Starry Hours" in front of that same 
 academy, he would have excelled in his classes. He 
 would have been satisfied with one-half the number of 
 gorgeous neckties and high-heeled boots. Perhaps — 
 but the very doubt implies an extra doubt — he would 
 liave fallen in love fewer times and would have been 
 able to translate his Greek Testament lesson on Mon- 
 day morning without the assistance of King James 
 and his host of divines. 
 
208 TOM AND JOE. 
 
 To become a thorougli student a boy must not be in 
 love. The harassing doubts and uncertain hopes that 
 come between him and his lessons are not conducive 
 to study, and he dreams away the hours that ought to 
 be devoted to better purpose. He should ignore Cupid, 
 and bow only at the shrine of knowledge. Give him 
 more of Cicero and less of Ovid. Teach him how to 
 become a man. He will become a lover without any 
 teaching. 
 
 It was Irving who told of the young prince who had 
 been brought up in seclusion, so that he had never 
 seen a woman. Unfortunately for the peace of his 
 realm, while out walking one day he met three girls, 
 daintily arrayed, and boy-like, took an intense interest 
 in them at once. His guardian, whom it is needless 
 to add, was old and ugly, hurried him away, telling 
 liim that those creatures he saw were devils such as 
 vex and undo mankind; but ever as the poor fellow 
 wearied of his studies he would heave a deep sigh and 
 exclaim: "Oh, that little devil in blue!" We are told 
 that his passion brought him unnumbered woes, and 
 cost him his kingdom. 
 
 To the average college boy the "little devil in blue" 
 is too often present, enticing him away from his books 
 and filling his mind with idle fancies or liis heart with 
 foolish dreams. From what we can learn of Tom there 
 is every reason to suppose that bright little devils in 
 every hue of the rainbow disturbed his boyish heart 
 and danced with fairy feet over every page from Xeno- 
 phon to Differential Calculus. If he essayed to study 
 
TOM TllK PLOUGHMAN AND BURNS THE POET. 209 
 
 botany the fair, laughing face of Madge looked out 
 from its pages amidst a shower of rose-petals, and even 
 among the Evidences of Christianity he saw the pew 
 of Major Carter in the old hill-country church, while 
 the Sunday morning odor of violets came stealing o'er 
 his senses. No study was so dry and no problem so 
 abstruse but some bright-eyed Gertrude or blushing 
 Kate peeped over the top of the page and won for him 
 a dreamy demerit. Even amid the clouds of algebraic 
 dust that ever surrounds the unknowm "X" he saw the 
 brown ringlets and the little dimpled hands that waved 
 welcome to the great steamer so long ago. It would 
 have been w^ell for Tom had he called up his great 
 will-power and banished those bright fancies, but he 
 went on dreaming until the day came that he must 
 meet the world in the supreme struggle for place. 
 Then he saw how idle were those dreams, and how^ 
 unfitted he was for the work allotted him. Poor fel- 
 low! His heart ached many a time when for appear- 
 ance sake he must be cheerful; but it was a brave heart 
 and hopeful, so he worked w^ith an energy that atoned 
 somewhat for time lost in dreaming — and dreamed 
 again at odd moments. His heart was tenderer for 
 those lost dreams, and maybe that wdll count for some- 
 thing in the final reckoning. 
 
 The sad condition of the country had its effect upon 
 Judge Mabry's fortunes, and little by little, under the 
 new system of labor, the burden of taxation, and depre- 
 ciation of values, the remnant of his wealth disap- 
 peared. He was growing older in strength than in 
 
210 TOM AND JOE. 
 
 years, and when his noble form stooped he missed the 
 strong arm of the brave boy who slept beneath the old 
 pine in front of Petersburg. The most common of all 
 the pitiable sights in the Southland since the war is 
 the aged father or mother tottering on to the grave, 
 calling vainly for the dead boy who sleeps upon some 
 distant battle-field! As the Judge grew older he be- 
 came, if possible, gentler. The peace which flowed 
 like a river through his heart was such as comes down 
 to the weary soul that hears the voice of the Master, 
 and the light that shone upon his face came not from 
 material sun nor stars. 
 
 One day Tom came home and went to work. He 
 saw the wreck, and rolling up his sleeves he seized 
 hold of the plow-handles with an energy born of pros- 
 pective want. 
 
 The poet Burns was a ploughman, and so was Tom. 
 Nor are we afraid to suggest that he could discount the 
 poet in cutting correct furrows, even as the poet could 
 excel Tom in penning divine verse — and it is a fact 
 that the latter used to woo the muse sometimes, in a 
 quiet way. If, however, a tiny mouse ran from under 
 his plow he did not pause to sing its funeral, but killed 
 it in a natural way and went on turning the sod. If 
 the lark sprang up at his feet and filled the air with 
 melody as it soared towards the sky, he thought unut- 
 terable things and sighed for his shotgun when he 
 remembered that the musical little wretch was a "ter- 
 ror" among the young cora. Tom never stayed out 
 on Saturday night with jolly companions, singing 
 
TOM THE PLOUGHMAN AND BURNS THE POET. 211 
 
 doubtful songs and drinking bad beer in some ale- 
 liouse, but slept the healthy sleep of the granger, and 
 went to church next morning in the vain hope that 
 Madge would not observe his sunburnt hands and 
 blistered nose. We think, if we may judge from the 
 conduct of the tw^o ploughmen, that our Tom was the' 
 better man. Yet when he has gone to his reward and 
 the old hills he used to plough have gone with the 
 waters into the valley; when he and Madge, with all 
 they knew or loved, shall have been forgotten — yea, 
 when the very species of corn that Tom used to plant 
 shall have been lost to agriculture, the poet with his 
 sweet songs of the daisy and the mouse — also of the 
 little creature that rhymes with mouse — will be fresh 
 in a world's memory. This is manifestly unjust, but 
 we shall not attempt to correct it, nor shall we try to 
 explain why our young man w^as not considered quite 
 so nice as when his hands were white and his head a 
 shade softer. 
 
 Personally a man who follows the plough is not so 
 acceptable in society although mentally and moral 1}^ 
 he may outrank most of his fellow^s. There is an 
 indefinable air of horse lots and newly-ploughed soil 
 in his manner that clings to him, even in the ball- 
 room. He may be fit to command armies and do 
 deeds of daring or kindness that make him immortal, 
 but society has another st-andard to w^hich the poor 
 ploughman may never hope to roach. People go into 
 raptures over the performance of a great English 
 statesman who once or twice during the year pulls off 
 
212 TOM AND JOE. 
 
 liis coat and chops down a British oak, and they even 
 carry away the chips as so many jDriceless souvenirs 
 for the admiration of a hero-worshiping world, but 
 suppose that noble old Englishman was compelled to 
 cut wood for allying? Suppose! 
 
 The drawing-room does not always look to a man's 
 moral worth. 
 
 Tom was a great admirer of the ploughman Burns, 
 and thought the poet must have directed the most of 
 his sweetest verses to the great-grandmother of Madge, 
 so w^ell did they, sing the loveliness of the daughter. 
 He was always ready at less than a moment's notice 
 to rhapsodize that maiden's charms in tendercst verse. 
 Three years absence at college had wrought wonders 
 in Tom, and his little princess had donned the airs 
 and skirts of a young lady, so the old-time intimacy 
 was gone, und stately formalism took the place of 
 innocent confidence. 
 
 Madge was the very spirit of life an<d mirth, but she 
 exhibited in Tom's presence a reserve that he w\is not 
 wise enough to understand ; so he grew savage under the 
 torture, and resented what he took to be indifference. 
 One day he sought her, and with stammering tongue 
 told her how her coldness wounded him, and how he 
 had always loved her since they were children together. 
 
 " You are cruel to me, Madge," said he ; " you can be as 
 full of life as a bird when you are wdth others, yet when I 
 try to talk to you I am answered with *yes' and 'no.'" 
 
 " I don^t see why you should say so, I am sure,"' 
 replied Madge hotly. "If I am livelier with others 
 
TOM THE TLOUGHMAN AND BURNS THE POET. 213 
 
 maybe it is because they try better to entertain me. 
 You are accusing me wrongfully." 
 
 "It looks that way to me, Madge; and I don't 
 understand it. I know that I am poor and have to 
 work hard for a living; but I try to do my duty, and 
 you will never find a man who will love you more 
 earnestly and unselfishly." 
 
 "I thank you for the love, Tom, which I am sure is 
 honest, and I am unworthy of it, but you are foolishly 
 unjust. Besides, I am not hunting for a man of any 
 sort; and your remark about poverty is entirely out of 
 place. It is a mean insinuation that I care for wealth 
 rather than love, and is unworthy of you." 
 
 Then the young lady.got angry, and the more Tom 
 tried to explain the more foolish things he said and 
 the angrier she became, until finally she told him that 
 he had better remain away until he formed a more 
 correct opinion of one he professed to love. 
 
 Tom was very simple in those days, and just then 
 he acted very foolishly. Instead of going away and 
 letting the storm blow over he undertook to argue the 
 matter. When he grew older he learned how useless 
 it was to argue with a woman ; especially an angry 
 woman. When he left he said : 
 
 "Good-bye, Madge! When you think you wih oe 
 glad to see me say so, and I'll come to you though I 
 have to cross the seas." 
 
 "If you wait until I send for you I think you'll 
 grow tired," was the reply of that spirited young lady, 
 with just a suspicion of slang. And thus they parted. 
 
214 TOM AND JOE. 
 
 As a result of this quarrel Tom went home swelling 
 with wrath; and Madge, like a true woman, went to 
 her room and indulged in a good cry. 
 
 "Poor, dear Tom !" she said to her confidential pil- 
 low that night — "he is awfully foolish sometimes, but 
 he is just as brave and generous as he can be. I was 
 ugly to him this evening, but, never mind, it will be all 
 right when we meet again." 
 
 When she went off to sleep she dreamed that a great 
 river separated her from her lover, and while they fol- 
 lowed down its banks beckoning and calling to each other 
 the stream grew wider and wider, until she could hear 
 his voice no more. 
 
 Tom experienced a change of heart also, that night, 
 and mentally kicked himself a dozen times for being an 
 idiot. 
 
 " Bless her little heart ! I was a fool, and I am afraid 
 it has become a fixed habit with me, that I must try to 
 break myself of. She's spirited, and I love her all the 
 more for it. When I see her again I'll own up what a 
 booby I was, and I'll bet a thousand dollars she'll for- 
 give me." Then he went to sleep, too, and his dreams 
 were such awful things as visit the pillow of a man 
 who has eaten too much supper. 
 
 Tom quit betting such ponderous sums of money 
 after that, and confined himself to such society stakes 
 as a pair of gloves or a pound cf bonbons. 
 
 The next day Madge went away to school, and wlien 
 in after j^ears they met again both she and Tom were 
 as much wiser as they were older. 
 
CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 " NO W LET ME BEST.'' 
 
 n^OM worked very hard during two crop seasons; 
 J^ then one day when he had ploughed to the end of 
 a long row that was ambushed every yard with stumps 
 and roots he swore mildly and w^ent to the house. 
 
 "Mother!" — he exclaimed. "I'm going to quit 
 ploughing. It don't pay, and, besides, if I follow that 
 mule another week they'll have to turn me out of the 
 church." 
 
 This was very wicked in Tom, but, dear reader, if 
 you never ploughed with a mule in fallow ground 
 where vines and roots and various other diabolical agen- 
 cies lie in wait to harrow^ up your very soul ; or, if you 
 never drove a team of oxen during a hot day over a 
 rough road, and wrestled wath them in a miry pool of 
 water, you are unacquainted with even the rudiments 
 of vexation. A ninety days' note going to protest, or 
 the loss of an election where your money has gone like 
 water for " legitimate campaign expenses," is an inno- 
 cent amusement in comparison. The man who can 
 plough over a two-acre patch of such ground and not 
 lapse into profanity is a slow milk-and-water chap who 
 wouldn't swear any how, or he is in daily expectation 
 of a pair of w^ngs. 
 
 (215) 
 
216 TOM AND JOE. 
 
 Of course it is wrong to swear, and any man who 
 uses profane language, no matter under what provica- 
 tion, is not altogether the nice gentleman that he was 
 before. Ilis moral perception is to a certain degree 
 blunted, and his soul is not so fair as it was. Tlie most 
 overwhelming evil in polite society to-day is tlie pro- 
 fane tendency of conversation among gentlemen, and 
 it would be bad enough if they used only strong ex- 
 pletives without coupling therewith the sacred Kame, 
 but the sacrilege is, unfortunately, always present. 
 
 "And mother," continued Tom, "lam afraid I swore 
 a little when the plough handle punched me in the 
 ribs and I struck my shin against the hard end of a 
 root." 
 
 " Oh, Tom ! Are you not ashamed of yourself? How 
 badly your dear father would feel if he heard of your 
 using profane language ! You had better get some soap 
 and wash your mouth as I used to make you do when 
 you said ugly words. Then, my dear son, there is a 
 stain on your pure soul that no soap and water v/ill 
 wash away." 
 
 "I know it was naughty, mammy dear ; but have'nt 
 I confessed ? What's the good of confession if yon are 
 not forgiven? Besides I didn't swear very bad; not 
 much worse than the poor little 'dog-gone' I used to 
 use when a little boy. I won't do so any more unless 
 I go back to the plougli, in which event I won't make 
 any rash promises." 
 
 "We are glad to record that our young man quit 
 swearing — when he quit ploughing. 
 
217 
 
 The good old Judge grew feebler and more uncom- 
 plaining as the weeks passed, and one day the old man, 
 who had always been so active, remained seated by the 
 fire. He did not stir out that day, nor the next, and 
 soon it came about that his easy chair was placed for 
 him in vain ; but he remained in bed, and the good 
 mother busied herself to prepare little appetizing 
 dishes for him, which were often untouched. Some- 
 times one or another of the family read to him a sweet 
 Psalm, or those ever-soothing words: "Let not your 
 hearts be troubled." He talked often of Joe in those 
 days, and told little incidents of the young soldier's 
 childhood that had escaped the memory of busier peo- 
 ple. He did not seem to regard his boy as dead, but 
 only absent, and that one day he w^ould return. The 
 family humored all his conceits, and lingered about 
 his bed with the tenderest solicitude, always seeking 
 to anticipate his wants. The weeks lengthened into 
 months, and the glad Christmas time w^as brightening 
 o'er all the earth when it became apparent that the 
 busy life was about to be surrendered. The evening 
 sun was low dowm the w^estern sky on the day before 
 Christmas, and all the family were about the bedside, 
 when the sick man aroused, and looking around on 
 the different faces, asked : 
 
 "Where is Joe?" 
 
 "He will be here directly, dear," answered the mother 
 as her kind eyes filled wdth tears. 
 
 "Open the window, please? I want to see the sky." 
 The sufferer looked long and lovingly out over the 
 10 
 
218 TOM AND JOE. 
 
 yard and across the expanse of field stretching away 
 to tlie swamp where our Tom found shelter during the 
 last day of the war, then there stole over his face an 
 expression of abundant peace. What were his thoughts 
 in that solemn hour angels may never tell, but we 
 know that they were pure and holy. 
 
 "Ah, yes! that will do, thank you. How glorious 
 is the sun in his setting. 'The heavens declare the 
 glory of God,'" then with a sigh of comfort he sank 
 back on his pillow saying: 
 
 "Now let me rest," and the everlasting gates opened 
 wide for the faithful old man. 
 
 "Oh, kindest of»fathers and bravest of brothers!" 
 exclaimed Tom weeping. " You have left me deso- 
 late, and the earth is poorer since you went away." 
 
 The night after the funeral of Judge Mabry only 
 Tom, his sister Janet, and mother were left of the dis- 
 consolate family, and these were seated about a great 
 fire in the old parlor. The others had homes of their 
 own, with new ties and new duties. 
 
 "Mother," said Tom after a pause, "this is no coun- 
 try for me. I do not think that I can make a living out 
 of these old hills, and I have determined to go away 
 to some section where there is a chance for a young 
 man. I think I shall seek some place to put my 
 knowledge of civil engineering into practice, and I am 
 informed that in the great Northwest there is no end 
 to railroad building, tunneling and bridging. Here I 
 ran do nothing, with the terrible curse hanging over 
 our State. There is absolutely nothing to do except 
 
219 
 
 digging in the soil, and I am tired of that. I have no 
 means to go into planting extensively, and I would 
 likely loose all I have any way with this poor system of 
 labor. The condition of affairs here is bound to end 
 sooner or later if we have to fight over it again, and as 
 certain as fate there will be more blood letting all over 
 this Southland. I am going away, but if this people 
 get into a row with the scalawags and negroes I will 
 return and give dear old Joe's sword some fresh work 
 to do. I am glad that clever Yankee officer sent it 
 home, and I should like to know him for I feel sure 
 I would like him. Some men have big souls. But 
 regarding these internal troubles, and the unbearable 
 insolence of the negroes, I speak but the sentiments of 
 our entire people, who have no desire to try the issue 
 of another war, but will not be dogged to death by a 
 parcel of money-seeking reprobates from the North.'' 
 Tom was but a boy, yet he spoke the sentiments of 
 men. It is a fact that five years after the close of the 
 late war the people of the South, under what was 
 termed " carpet-bag rule," were in more of a fighting 
 humor than at any time during the conflict, and but 
 for wiser counsels both North and South the internal 
 troubles South would have burst forth into actual war. 
 There were more than a million desperate men whose 
 reckless fury would have caused more loss of blood and 
 treasure than the world ever saw^ in one struggle. It 
 would not have been a war of brothers, but the un- 
 tamed wrath of blood-thirsty tigers. The people of 
 the South were desperate, and they were united as they 
 
220 TOM AND JOE. 
 
 never were before. Men who would not fight for a 
 political idea, or a social theory, would have gone to 
 death under personal wrong, and the solemn, immuta- 
 ble truth remains that a race of Anglo-Saxon masters 
 will never rest under the domination of their late 
 slaves — nor, in fact, under an}^ other tyranny. It took 
 the people of the North a long while to find this out, 
 and they would only believe it after thousands of their 
 old soldiers had come here to live, and had become 
 imbued with the same spirit of resistance. They were 
 slow to learn that brute force would never solve the 
 Southern question. Their citizens came here to live — 
 strong, active, energetic fellows, and the first lesson 
 they learned was that the white man must rule. Never 
 did school have pupils more apt. So it came about 
 that better ideas prevailed, and to-day, except when 
 some old political hack wants an office or some idiot 
 needs confinement, a stranger would never know there 
 had been a war. The same feelings expressed by Tom 
 actuated every man, and the same hope of finding a 
 land where race troubles were unknown and there was 
 a prospect of reward for energy and industry, drove 
 thousands of our best people away. Many went to 
 Texas or California, and many more, like our Tom, 
 determined to go to the Yankee and learn his ways. 
 
 Thus it happened that when the sun of a bright 
 "New Year" broke through the fog that hung in great 
 clouds over the mighty Mississippi its first rays fell 
 u[)on the deck of an up-country steamer and lighted 
 up the sad features of a tall young man who had 
 
"now let me kest." 221 
 
 started out into the world in search of fortune, and had 
 left Belhaven forever. Away from the grave of father; 
 away from tlie scenes forever hallowed by the memory 
 of Joe; away from the presence of Madge, and into the 
 untried realities of life among strangers went Tom, so 
 no wonder that when at night he lay in his little cabin 
 listening to the ponderous strokes of the great engine, 
 and heard the rush of dark waters, a feeling of utter 
 loneliness came over him and there was the moisture 
 of tears upon his pillow. 
 
 From St. Louis he wrote a letter to mother telling 
 her that he would start the next morninof out to the 
 mountains of the West, where he hoped to find work 
 and build a new home among that bustling people. 
 That night ere he retired he penned a short note to his 
 little Princess. Rewrote: 
 
 *' Madge, dear, you were angry with me when we 
 parted, but there were tears in your sweet eyes, so I 
 think I may yet hope. I have gone away out of your 
 life, and away from all I love, yet some day I trust to 
 see you again. You told me to leave you, and I have 
 done so. When you call me back I will come. I shall 
 listen ever for your call. You know my heart, and 
 you can trust me. Good-bye. 
 
 "Your faithful 
 
 "Tom." 
 
 Such was the little missive that sweet Madge wept 
 over and read again and again for many a year, until 
 its words were burned into her heart. 
 
222 TOM AND JOE. 
 
 The next morning, away past bustling new cities, 
 through vast fields of young grain, over mighty rivers 
 and through dark tunnels, away he whirled past lonely 
 farm-houses and restless herds of cattle; away, on and on, 
 over plains of sand where the cayoto skulked amid the 
 sage-brush, until one bright afternoon Tom looked out 
 and for the first time beheld the snow-capped moun- 
 tains towering towards the heavens. 
 
 Those western mountains have taken into their shad- 
 ows the adventurous youth of every State. Some 
 come out strong and fair, while others wreck their 
 young manhood and are forever lost to waiting loved 
 ones. Tom had but a few dollars left and he had no 
 intention of loitering. His first thought was to secure 
 work. Several of the great railroads were pushing out 
 into the. mountain country, and to effect their purposes 
 required an enormous outlay of muscle, money and 
 skill. No young man with a will to work need be idle. 
 There was plenty to do if one w^as not too particular. 
 Arriving at Denver, the wonderful young mountain city, 
 Tom enjoyed a good night's rest, and then bright and 
 early he sought the office of the \V. Y. Railway, where 
 he was in waiting long before the officials were in their 
 places. He walked the corridor impatiently until he 
 was accosted by a kindly old gentleman w^ith — 
 
 "Well, my young man, Avhat can we do for you to- 
 day?" 
 
 " If you please," replied Tom, " I would be glad to 
 see Col. Elmore, the Chief Engineer, Is he in ?" 
 
"now let me rest." 223 
 
 " Yes, you are fortunate in finding him here. Had 
 you been an hour later you would have been compelled 
 to seek him a hundred miles away in the mountains. 
 Come this way" — and following as he was directed, he 
 was ushered into the presence of a fine, soldierly look- 
 ing man with brown beard and mustache. 
 
 "Colonel Elmore," spoke the old gentleman, "here is 
 a young man who seeks you early and looks like he 
 means business." 
 
 " Be seated sir," said Colonel Elmore, courteously , 
 "and tell me what I can do for you." 
 
 "You are very kind sir," answered Tom. "My 
 name is Thomas Mabry, and I am hunting for work. 
 I have studied civil engineering and am anxious to be- 
 come practically expert in that line, but I am ready to 
 do any honorable work you may give me." 
 
 Tom was trembling with excitement by this time, 
 for it was his first venture out into the world and ho 
 greatly feared a denial. Colonel Elmore, smiled in sym- 
 pathy for the stammering fellow, and came to his res- 
 cue by saying : 
 
 "You look like an honest, courageous young man, 
 and I think we can find something for you to do. 
 Where are you from ? " 
 
 "I hope, sir, you won't let it militate against me," 
 answered Tom, " but I am from the far South — from 
 Louisiana." Tom had spoken indiscreetly, as he ofteil 
 did, and was thunderstruck at the answer. He should 
 have simply stated his residence, and raised no ques- 
 tion of prejudice. 
 
224 TOM AND JOE. 
 
 " We don't want any rebels here," said the Colonel, 
 sternly, "and unless you have left your treasonable 
 sentiments behind you had better go back to your own 
 section. You Louisiana rebels are giving the govern- 
 ment a world of trouble any how and should be dealt 
 with severely." 
 
 If Tom had been foolish in his answer he now 
 showed the grand courage of his convictions, and 
 springing to his feet with blazing face and fierce words 
 he replied — 
 
 " I have always heard that you cussea Yankees were 
 a malignant, unforgiving set, with no good word or 
 deed for a man who does not agree with you. I spurn 
 your ofiPer of work, sir, and I will gladly go back to 
 where people have souls. Leave my sentiments be- 
 hind! I'll speak them anywhere on God's footstool 
 that it pleases me to open my mouth. I am ashamed of 
 you. Colonel Elmore ! And to think that you claim to 
 be an American — oh, I'm disappointed in you ! When 
 I was so pleased with your reception and your looks. 
 Colonel Elmore, you look like a gentleman, but — God 
 help me ! — you don't act like one. I'll go, sir ; but I 
 would advise you to come South and learn how to be a 
 gentleman." 
 
 Colonel Elmore broke out into a ringing laugh at 
 this last remark, and said : 
 
 "Hold on, my boy! I was only trying you to see if 
 you would stand up for your side. I am satisfied 
 Sit down again and let me tell you my views Don't 
 misjudge me. Louisiana is an American State, and 
 
"now let me rest.'^ 225 
 
 her sons are my brothers. I am a New Yorker, but I 
 may become a Georgian, or a Texan, or a citizen of 
 any other State to-morrow ; yet first, last and all the 
 time I am an American ! I think I shall be proud of 
 you, and if you are the metal I take you to be you 
 will find no trouble about employment. It will rest 
 with you whether or not you succeed. Come now and 
 let us 'shake hands across the bloody chasm,^ until we 
 can get out to the front, when we will fill it up with 
 dirt and rocks!" 
 
 " And your name is Mabry ? Do you know a Judge 
 Mabry, of Louisiana? He lives in Feliciana parish." 
 
 At the mention of that name Tom's eyes filled with 
 tears, and he replied : 
 
 " He was my father. One of the best and dearest of 
 men." 
 
 " Was your father? I am truly sorry to know that 
 he is dead. I have a letter from him written some 
 years ago in answer to a note from me when I sent 
 him the sword of his gallant son, who was killed just 
 as he had captured my gun at Fort Steadman. It is 
 a noble letter ; so dignified and kindly in tone, and so 
 full of gratitude to me for sending home his boy's 
 sword. I am truly glad to meet you, Tom ; I won't 
 stand on ceremony with you; and you shall have 
 pleasant employment, as much for the sake of your 
 noble old father and your heroic brother, as for your 
 own. Get yourself ready to go with me to the front, 
 where your place will be in the future. I will start 
 in an hour. Pack your valise, and you can store 
 
226 TOM AND JOE. 
 
 your trunk in our warehouse until you make perma- 
 nent arrangements." 
 
 "Colonel Elmore !" exclaimed the happy boy, "I don't 
 know how to thank you in words, but I will prove to 
 you that I am grateful when I go to work in your 
 employ. I want to beg your pardon, too, for the hard 
 things I said about the Yankees, for I am sure now 
 that they are not all mean." 
 
 " No more of that, my boy. The better you know 
 our people the more you will admire them, and this 
 will teach you a lesson. Never condemn any person 
 or nationality upon hearsay. Most persons have some 
 good in them. Let us get to work now." 
 
 Promptly at the hour the chief engineer's car rolled 
 out upon its journey to the construction camp, and our 
 Tom was a passenger. It was his first ride among the 
 mountains, and Colonel Elmore, seeing how absorbed 
 the boy was in the grand panorama which moved 
 swiftly past him, did not disturb him save to call his 
 attention to some especially beautiful view. 
 
 "This is vastly different from my Louisiana home, 
 Colonel, and I confess it attracts me with its beauty 
 and novelty. There I walk out amid the grand old 
 forest trees and when I view the heavens I must look 
 up, so they seem a great way off; but here from these 
 elevations I look away and see the sky coming down 
 all around me until it grasps the earth in its embrace, 
 or when we rush into some deep valley it seems fur- 
 ther off than ever." 
 
227 
 
 "To me," responded Colonel Elmore, ''these glorious 
 hills are forever new. I love the mountains as I love 
 nothing else in nature, and I think I shall make 
 my home among them some day. There is such 
 variety about the mountains that one never tires. One 
 hour they are clothed in happy sunshine, yet in the 
 next the soft white mists will cling about them like 
 the garments of a bride. To-day the peace of Heaven 
 seems to rest upon them, but to-morrow they will trem- 
 ble amid the thunders of some unchained tempest. 
 Yes, I love the mountains, although one would think, 
 from the tunnels I bore and the great gaps I cut through 
 them, that they were a line of mortal enemies I am 
 bound to destroy." 
 
 Our party soon reached the terminus of the road, 
 and here Tom saw one of those peripatetic towns of 
 which the people of old settled communities can have 
 no conception — a town that drops itself with a rattle 
 and bang into some quiet valley to-day, and for a 
 month or more seems all the time one motley eircus 
 performance, then moves on, leaving the once lovely 
 spot to desolation and abandoned tin cans. There are 
 also a half score or more of lonely graves, where rest 
 the bodies of men who "died with their boots on," or 
 women who sought forgetfulness in the deadly opium. 
 The host of gamblers, laborers, loafers, and courtesans 
 have moved on to make a six-weeks' hell in some other 
 quiet spot. 
 
 Tom went to work at once. His kind new friend 
 showed him what he wanted done and how, then the 
 
228 TOM AND JOE. 
 
 old energy of the cotton farm blazed up under the 
 impetus of a great purpose — to win for himself a name 
 and his dear ones a home. He was fortunate in the 
 friendship of Colonel Elmore, and there was no reason 
 why the handsome soldier of thirty years of age and the 
 grave youth of twenty should not become intimate, being 
 congenial spirits amid a crowd of earth's roughest sons. 
 
 Day after day and week after week the explosion of 
 giant cartridges reminded them of the stormy days 
 then gone, and under those batteries of peace the great 
 rocks of the mountain side yielded and went thunder- 
 ing into the gorges far below. Brain and muscle worked 
 on, until through dark tunnels and mighty cuts, over 
 massive culverts and airy bridges, the car of latter-day 
 progress went booming into wilds known only to the 
 trapper, the hunter, and the miner. Tom worked and 
 never seemed to tire. He was in his element, driving 
 and pushing like the progress of an age depended upon 
 his individual exertion, nor did he neglect to save his 
 earnings. 
 
 When the icy arms of winter grasped all the moun- 
 tains and reared among them snowy palaces whose 
 beauty lured adventurous men to death, he went back 
 to Denver, and in his chief's office he wrought me- 
 chanical problems of such apparent value, and gave 
 such careful attention to all the details of business, that 
 when the spring campaign opened the authorities took 
 notice of him and he was appointed First Assistant to 
 the Chief Engineer, with great authority in the con- 
 struction department. 
 
CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 ''GOD PITY TIIEM BOTH AND PITY US' ALL.'' 
 
 "HOT far from the pretty little mountain town of 
 J Quimby, on this new road, there is a valley of sur- 
 passing loveliness, and its beauty is not its only merit — 
 foritwasits fertility that attracted our Tom's agricultural 
 eye. It was a portion of the Government grant to the 
 railroad, and to see it was to want it; so he hastened 
 to headquarters and put in a bid for it. A few days 
 later he was as proud over his "quarter section" as 
 ever a young father was over his first-born son. He 
 walked up and down the valley, stopped to admire 
 every clump of trees, dropped pebbles into every trout- 
 hole along the little brook, and climbed the hills on 
 either side to become familiar with every view of his 
 possessions. No lover ever went out of his path to 
 view his sweetheart's home oftener than Tom held his 
 train, just a few minutes, until he could run to a 
 neighboring hill and look over into his valley. 
 
 Three months later dear old Belhaven had passed 
 into the hands of strangers, and mother with the fair 
 sister Janet had come to dwell in the cosiest of cot- 
 tages, which Tom had built among the hemlocks and 
 box-alders where the little trout-stream broke out from 
 the hills. Here they lived in peace, and the old home 
 
 (229) 
 
230 TOM AND JOE. 
 
 became a tender dream such as brings back our child- 
 hood to mellow old age. Here on the afternoons of 
 Saturdays Tom would come home from his work in 
 front and rest from his labors. On the Sabbath they 
 would climb the hill to where the village chapel at- 
 tracted those devoutly inclined, and within its sacred 
 walls they almost forgot that the old hill-country 
 church of Feliciana was waiting in vain for their 
 coming. All during that glorious summer and autumn 
 life seemed like a foretaste of something happier than 
 this world can offer. Sometimes Colonel Elmore would 
 stop his train at Quimby and walk down to the cot- 
 tage with Tom to enjoy a social tea with the family, 
 and here it was that the fair, blushing Janet poured 
 the hot tea so daintily that it warmed his bachelor 
 heart. Tom used to wonder why the brave Colonel 
 took such pleasure in stopping at their little home so 
 often. He thought that it was the wonderful biscuit 
 that his mother used to make, and was confirmed in 
 that belief when he saw his friend put away a half 
 dozen of them at a sitting. 
 
 "Good heavens!" thought Tom, "if we only had 
 some of those delicious old Louisiana yams, and 
 mother would make such a potato pone as she used 
 to cook for father, the Colonel would want to board 
 with us. No wonder he eats so, after a week of such 
 fare as we have in front." 
 
 Tom loved to see his friend cat, and when after 
 each cake he laughed over some funny story he was 
 sorry there was a limit to the man's appetite. The 
 
231 
 
 days fled swiftly, and our young man was happy as 
 youth, hope, health and employment can insure; but 
 let us not suppose for a moment that he had forgotten 
 his little Princess. Ah, no! That beautiful valley 
 was selected, and the pretty cottage built, with a hope 
 that one day Madge would look with the approval of 
 loving eyes upon his work, and brighten with her 
 presence a home that would soften his sorrow for the 
 lost Belhaven. Poor foolish, faithful Tom 1 
 
 And what of the pretty Madge during those years ? 
 She went to school during nine months of the year, 
 and the other three months were to her so many sea- 
 sons of triumph. She had finally gone off for a term 
 to a finishing school in Virginia, and was now pre- 
 paring to be turned loose upon the world. Happy 
 world, so soon to be at the feet of such loveliness! 
 
 One July day when the little town of Quimby 
 never looked so fair there came a letter for Tom, in a 
 square womanly envelope, and directed in the tiniest 
 of feminine characters. He saw it and blushed lest 
 the postmaster should notice his confusion. Had there 
 been a postmistress the secret would have been guessed 
 in a moment, but the obtuse person in charge never 
 saw anything unusual, and only remarked: 
 
 "How careless these young men are! Here*s that 
 chap gone off without his change, and fifty cents is 
 added to my salary." 
 
 What did Tom care for fifty cents ? He had some- 
 thing that the President could not buy, and he felt 
 rich. He walked away down the hill ; or rather he 
 
232 TOM AND JOE. 
 
 floated down, for every step was upon springs, and his 
 heart was so liglit it almost Lore him up. If he 
 touched anything so material as the earth he was 
 not then aware of it. Sitting down in the plea- 
 sant shade upon a great table-rock that jutted out 
 from the hillside, he drew the precious missive from 
 his pocket, and for several blissful minutes studied 
 the pretty little characters that made up the address. 
 Who ever put such a dear little curved tail to a "T" 
 save Madge? and the roundest little "o" that ever 
 ravished a lover's eye. Did anj^body ever see such a 
 perfect " m " since the days of Cadmus ? Never ! The 
 capital "M" was a poem, while those exquisite little 
 letters "a, b, r, y" were such things as fairies dream of 
 in the time of apple blossoms. The "Esq" which 
 rounded the address into perfect symmetry was the 
 only.real abbreviation of the title' that ever was writ- 
 ten. All the balance were shams. Of course the 
 names of the town and territory were a symphony in 
 black, and Tom cannot look upon them to this day 
 without a quiver about the heart. Sitting there in a 
 perfect delirium of bliss, what did he care for tlie death 
 struggle of nations across the seas ? Did the question 
 of "tariff" bother him, then? No; he even forgot the 
 "negro problem" of his own loved South. He was 
 foolishly happy without knowing or inquiring why. 
 
 When he had studied the address for a length of 
 time that denoted a sad lack of learning, or unac- 
 countable absent-mindedness, he kissed the letter and 
 felt in his pocket for his knife. He would not tear a 
 
"god pity them both and pity us all." 233 
 
 thing so precious, lest a portion of it be lost or dis- 
 figured, so opening the smallest blade of the knife he 
 carefully cut one end of the envelope, and his heart 
 was almost still as he drew forth a dainty, perfumed 
 paper. There came again the old-time Sunday morn- 
 ing odor of violets as he opened the letter and looked 
 with trembling to its contents. Did it commence 
 "Dear Tom," or any of the old familiar terms of long 
 ago ? Ah, no ! What he read was this : 
 
 "Miss Madge Carter's compliments to Mr. Thomas 
 Mabry " 
 
 Then she invited him to be present at the closing 
 concert of her school on the last evening of July. 
 That was all. There was no pretty little postscript, 
 such as loving woman always adds to her letter; 
 nothing upon which to hang a hope, and the day 
 became suddenly dark, nor did the valley seem quite 
 so fair. The lines grew hard about Tom's mouth, and 
 the buoyancy of a few minutes ago was all gone. It 
 w^as as when a northeast storm suddenly obscures a 
 spring day, and the birds cease singing while the sun 
 is in hiding. You think your fate is cruel, Tom, but 
 the day is coming when this little touch of winter 
 will be forgotten amid the wild desolation of a temp- 
 est that shall overwhelm you. But the storm will pass. 
 
 The first shock of disappointment over, 'there came 
 a revulsion of feeling. The intense love was hidden, 
 not drowned, by the angry tide that swept up in his 
 heart, and Tom in his anger became unjust. 
 
234 TOxM AND JOE. 
 
 "She is cruel and heartless! Her compliments, in- 
 deed — when I would give ni}^ right arm for one kind 
 word, and sell my soul for her smile. Compliments! 
 I won't have them. She has no doubt sent such stuff 
 as that to a dozen of the boys in Feliciana, and they 
 are crowing over it like a parcel of bantams." 
 
 Then stuffing the letter into his pocket the wrathful 
 young man plunged down the hill and into the house 
 with a bang, not stopping to kiss his mother or Janet^ 
 but rushed into his room, and, drawing out his desk, 
 settled himself to write. 
 
 "Gracious!" exclaimed his sister. "What ails our 
 Tom this evening? He's in a terrible tantrum." 
 
 "Something has troubled the dear boy, and I must 
 see what it is," replied her mother, and going to his 
 door the good woman knocked and entered into the 
 I)resence of her son. 
 
 "Why, Tom, my dear boy, something has happened 
 to distress you. Are you well?" 
 
 "Yes, mother, I am well, but something has hap- 
 pened to distress me. Read that, will you?'* and he 
 handed her the invitation, all the while writing away 
 like his life depended upon it. 
 
 " I do not see anything to trouble one about this," 
 said his mother. "It is a very pretty and polite invi- 
 tation from Madge for you to attend the closing con- 
 cert of her school. You ought to go if you can, and I 
 have no doubt you and she will settle your little difl'er- , 
 ences. You are a pair of foolish children anyhow — 
 loving each other and yet too proud to yieM a point. 
 
"god pity tpiem both and pity us all." 235 
 
 you'd feel precious badly cut up if she had forgotten 
 to invite you." 
 
 "Well, mother, I've answered that important mis- 
 sive, and you may read what I've said. Here it is." 
 
 The dear woman read Tom's answer and hardly 
 knew whether to laugh or cry, but upon a moment's 
 reflection she laughed. This is what the wrathful 
 young man had written : 
 
 "Mr. Thomas Mabry's compliments to Miss Madge 
 Carter, and he begs to assure her that it will be utterly 
 impossible for him to attend the concert spoken of in 
 her kind invitation. He feels sure that he will not be 
 missed from the throng who will crowd to admire the 
 fair graduate." 
 
 "You don't know how heartless that will seem to 
 your little sweetheart, my dear boy, and if you will 
 wait until morning you will not send it," continued 
 his mother; but Tom was sulky, and her prophecy 
 was only partially true. 
 
 Soothed by a cup of Mrs. Mabry's excellent tea, and 
 satisfied with a plateful of her famous biscuit, the 
 young man was no longer hungry, and by bed-time 
 he was at peace with all the world. The next morn- 
 ing when the first rays of sunshine came stream- 
 ing into the valley from beyond the hills of Quimby, 
 our Tom plunged wdth a whoop into the trout-stream 
 and paused amid the glories of an ante-breakfast 
 bath to note the mocking echoes of every hillside. A 
 night of perfect rest, a plunge in delicious waters, and 
 
236 TOM AND JOE. 
 
 a good breakfast, ^vill calm the angriest of angry pas- 
 sions; hence our hero was ready to forgive his little 
 Princess, and bless her for recollecting him at all. He 
 added a postscript to his letter of the night before, and 
 this was what he said: 
 
 ''Madge, dear, wdien I wrote the above I was a brute, 
 but now I am ^^our own loving Tom, as of old. Last 
 night I dreamed that you were the same delightful 
 little Madge who played the game of mumble-the-peg 
 with me so long ago under that dear old beech tree 
 which you and I can never forget. Your note was 
 such a disappointment to me, although I have kissed 
 it a hundred times. If you would really be glad to 
 see me, Marlge, darling — and I am sure of it — answer 
 this and I will come to you. Oh, Madge! Madge! I 
 would give the world if we could be to each other as 
 of old. Waiting for your answer and yearing t*o see 
 you once again, I shall try to be patient until it comes." 
 
 Then posting it he went about his duties with a 
 hopeful heart. Speed, little letter! Be j^ou never so 
 careful, mail carrier! for loving hearts are waiting to 
 break should you fail in your duty. 
 
 Out at his post working like a hero all those July 
 days, and dreaming as he carved the mighty hills, 
 Tom saw but few of the morning papers, and if he 
 read the account of a train wreck at Vattel's creek, in 
 Ohio, he did not know that his fateful letter was 
 burned with the mail, and that on the concert night 
 amid the Virginia hills sweet Madge's voice Quivered 
 
"god pity them both and pity us all." 237 
 
 as she sang her farewell song, for looking over the vast 
 audience she missed the one familiar face that was 
 dearer to her than all the world besides. 
 
 Weeks grew into months, and the poor fellow haunted 
 the post-office until the unsentimental person in charge 
 noted the disappointed look and spoke a tender nega- 
 tive to the vain inquiry for a letter. This fond hope 
 died away, and as the burden of his great sorrow 
 became heavier than he could bear he cast it upon 
 Him who promised to the finally faithful a crown in 
 exchange for the cross. Then his heart grew lighter, 
 and abundant peace made the w^orld seem fair once 
 more. If possible he was tenderer with mother and 
 Janet; then came a day w^hen the sweet sister placed 
 her fair hand in that of the gallant Chief Engineer 
 and went away to a city home. 
 
 Did Madge doubt the faith of her boy lover? Not 
 without assistance, and many years passed ere Tom 
 learned that one whom he trusted and loved had 
 poisoned her mind, although her gentle heart could 
 never be turned away from him. Had she gotten the 
 lost letter perhaps this story w^ould never be written; 
 but the letter never reached its destination, and not 
 until the angels roll the stone away shall we know 
 w^iat "might have been." 
 
 Another winter threw its icy fetters about the west- 
 ern mountains, to be broken only when the w^inds 
 came up from the South and called the violets from 
 out the snow. The tender beauty of another spring 
 
238 TOM AND JOE. 
 
 time gladdened every heart, and then the summer 
 came to clotJie the hills with green and azure. 
 
 One year has passed since Tom wrote liis last letter 
 to Madge. We see him stronger, sterner and manlier 
 tlian of yore, yet with the same kindly word for his 
 friends, and a stronger purpose to win his way to fame 
 and fortune. His mail is a large hudget now, for he 
 is a man of much business; but nothing was ever read 
 with the interest bestowed upon the little missive of 
 one year ago. It was filed away with the deed to his 
 farm. Tom had a heavy mail this afternoon, and as he 
 walked home he stopped again to rest upon the table- 
 rock and overlook his letters. There was one from 
 the president of the road commending him for a mas- 
 terly piece of tunneling; and one from a poor widow, 
 whose son had broken a limb while working for the 
 company, thanking him for twenty dollars he had 
 sent her in time of distress. There were letters of 
 inquiry and letters of complaint, all of v>diich were 
 duly considered; and then as he sat in the cool shade 
 he turned listlessly to his newspapers. He glanced at 
 the telegrams, mining news and railway notes, then 
 0[)ening a forlorn -looking little package he beheld a 
 copy of the old familiar paper published in his boy- 
 hood home. Some officious friend had sent it. Glan- 
 cing with some interest at the column of local news he 
 suddenly turns faint, and as the blood leaves his face 
 he clasps his hands upon his breast to stop the spasm 
 of pain that pressed about his heart. 
 
"god pity them both and pity us all." 239 
 
 Was some dear one dead and this the funeral mes- 
 sage ? Yes, the little Princess of his boyhood, and 
 the star of his young manhood, was dead; forever 
 dead to him ! 
 
 This was what he read : 
 
 "Makkied, at the residence of the bride's father, on 
 Thursday morning, July 2d, Miss IMadge Carter to 
 John Boswell, Esq., of New Orleans. The happy cou- 
 ple left on the 10 o'clock train for New York, where 
 they will embark for Europe and remain until the end 
 of the year." 
 
 The sinking sun ere it passed behind the western 
 
 hills peeped under the trees and saw a man lying like 
 
 one dead upon the smooth surface of the table-rock. 
 
 Two hours later, when the tender stars looked down in 
 
 pity, they shone upon the haggard face of that man 
 
 staggering along down the path; and the angels 
 
 heard his cry as he fell into the mother's faithful arms : 
 
 " Oh, mother! I am most miserable!" 
 * * * * * * 
 
 Madge was out upon the ocean ere Tom came back 
 to life and loved ones out of the deep spell into which 
 he had fallen, and when he went back to his post with 
 a tinge of frost about his once dark hair, she was 
 wandering amid the crumbling glories of Rome, and 
 trying in vain to forget the boy lover who had gone 
 away into the West and out of her life. Why she married 
 we cannot tell. The whims of a woman are past find- 
 ing out, but her heart is always right. Here is one of 
 
240 TOM AND JOE. 
 
 those partings so common in real life, and, except in 
 dreams, here must Tom and Madge bid each other an 
 eternal farewelL 
 
 It is very common in writing for the novelist to 
 bring together again those loving souls so sadly parted, 
 but this is not a novel. All the way it has been a 
 history of those who lived and loved. The solemn 
 impress of truth is upon every page. The world is 
 better because some of the characters of this story lived. 
 It would be easy to kill off John Boswell, but we shall 
 let him live and take his chances. We have further 
 use for Tom, for he has just now begun to live, and we 
 think we see where the cloud will lift from his soul. 
 The poor fellow shall have a living chance for happi- 
 ness after all his sorrows. He is a soul that can suffer 
 and be strong. If he felt the pang of disappointment 
 in his soul, he bent to his work for solace and sought 
 forgetfulness amid his books. One day he came across 
 a tiny volume, the gift of a dear, dead friend, and read 
 there a pencilled passage which struck his fancy: - 
 
 *' The years will bring new faces, 
 
 And as the summer rain 
 Falls soft on withered places 
 
 And makes them green again, 
 So time will soften sorrow 
 
 And lives now overcast 
 Shall in some happier morrow 
 
 Find solace for the past." 
 
 "Yes," he exclaimed, "the poet is right, and he 
 mixes sense with sentiment. I must be a man now, 
 and since Mad^re is dead to me I will with an earne,st 
 
241 
 
 life build a monument over the grave of my lost love. 
 May you be happy, my lost little Princess, and may 
 you never know how great is the burden of sorrow 
 you placed upon your old-time lover. Life is too short 
 for idle regrets, and I shall look for the * happier mor- 
 row ' amid new duties and new faces." 
 
 Under the skillful hand of the young engineer the 
 mighty heart of the Rockies was pierced, and another 
 great artery of commerce pulsated under the power of 
 steam. Sometimes in a quiet hour Tom would think 
 what his life might have been, but he would summon 
 his will power and fling away those dreams, and then 
 go about his duties with gentle words for his employees 
 and careful regard for every detail of his work. He 
 was kind to his men, and listened patiently to their 
 complaints. His tender solicitude about the condition 
 of those who were from time to time injured in the 
 work of construction won for him the love of the rough 
 fellows all about him, and the day was rapidly ap- 
 proaching when that love would form a living wall 
 between him and destruction — when their cheerful 
 shouts would nerve his arm to new endeavors and 
 renew hope in his despairing heart. 
 
 Tom always held to the principle that those hard- 
 working men were not of another clay, but were bro- 
 thers, quickly amenable to the law of kindness. If 
 there was trouble about the wages he always took up 
 for his men, and during the great financial troubles of 
 1873, when railroad building was paralyzed all over 
 the country, they clung to him with a ^fidelity, that 
 11 
 
242 TOM AND JOE. 
 
 astonished the "officers of this great corporation and 
 stimulated them to unlock their private coffers to feed 
 the faithful fellows. Thus passed two years of labor 
 and progress, until in the summer of 1875 Colonel 
 Elmore was elected vice-president of the road, and our 
 young man stepped up into a position the duties of 
 which had been measurably upon his shoulders for a 
 long while, 
 
 One day soon after this, Tom was in that marvelous 
 marvel, called Leadville, and as he reached the point 
 where Six-shooter Avenue intersects Whiskey Straight, 
 he heard a noise of shouting and wild laughing. It was 
 very much such a hurrah as arouses the average vil- 
 lage when an unfortunate dog moves out into the sub- 
 urbs with a tin can addition to its tail. A great crowd 
 of loafers and gamblers were yelling and tossing their 
 hats in the air, while all interest seemed to be centered 
 upon some object which our young engineer could not 
 see. Suddenly from out the crowd there rushed in 
 frantic haste a fat little man, bareheaded and scared. 
 His coat was a fashionable wreck, being torn from the 
 tail nearly to the neck, and each division of the tail 
 was standing out on its own responsibility as he ran, 
 or rather waddled up the street. The poor fellow was 
 running his best in an aimless sort of a way, and after 
 him, like grim death, came a red-faced ruffian who oc- 
 casionally fired a shot over the head of the fugitive to 
 stir him up to greater speed, yet all the time yelling 
 for the poor wretch to stop. As the miserable man 
 reached the crossing Tom recognized him, and calling 
 
"GOD PITY THEM BOTH AND PITY US ALL." 243 
 
 him to come over to his side of the street, assured him 
 of protection. Surprise almost conquered fear as the 
 man caught sight of our Tom, and shouting at the top 
 of his voice — 
 
 " Help, Tom Mabry, help ! That devil will kill me ! " 
 he started across the avenue, but his sorrows were not 
 yet at an end. His pursuer was now very close and the 
 sharp report of another pistol shot only stirred him up 
 for greater speed, when an unlucky rock spun away 
 from under his foot^ rolling him into the dirt, where he 
 surrendered. 
 
 Tom sprang quickly to his assistance, and was about 
 to raise the unfortunate man, when the harsh voice of 
 the ruffian called out: 
 
 " None of that, now ! Let him alone — he's my meat ! " 
 but paying no heed to this warning, he stooped to 
 help the fallen man to his feet. As he looked up a 
 pistol, propelled by a monstrous oath, was thrust against 
 his face, splitting the skin upon the cheek and nearly 
 hurling him to the earth. Quick as thought he pushed 
 the weapon aside, and springing up planted a powerful 
 blow square in the fellow's face. It was a good blow, 
 well delivered, and under it the ruffian went down. 
 Before he could recover Tom was upon him and had 
 him disarmed, but the ruffian had friends near, who 
 rushed to the rescue, and to face a crowd of angry men 
 with an empty pistol is a very delicate matter. He 
 stood holding them at bay with the presented weapon, 
 but things looked squally for our hero. With terrible 
 oaths the angry mob rushed upon him, but gave back 
 
244 TOM AND JOE. 
 
 as more than one felt the weight of a pistol barrel upon 
 his head. Tom was wondering how it would all end, 
 and was wishing himself well back in his car, when a 
 man sprang out from the crowd of spectators now gath- 
 ered around and a cheerful voice called — 
 
 "Stand up to them, Mr. Mabry ! Back, you cow- 
 ardly devils, and let's have fair play ! Boys, it's our 
 old boss, Tom Mabry, and nobody shall hurt him 
 while I'm here !" 
 
 Instantly a great shout went up from the crowd on 
 the sidewalk, and a dozen stout fellows rushed to the 
 rescue, with such a show of determination that the 
 gamblers felt their courage ebb away. Those men who 
 came so timely were of the little army who had worked 
 under Tom's orders and experienced his kindness on 
 all occasions. 
 
 "I am more than proud to see you, boys," said Tom, 
 "and I thank you for saving my life from that mob. 
 You all know me, and should any one of you ever 
 need help you always know where to find your old- 
 time boss. I want you all to come around to Bucka- 
 lew's to-day and you shall eat with me the best dinner 
 this town affords." 
 
 "Hurrah for Tom Mabry!" shouted the happy fel- 
 lows, and the crowd echoed the sentiment until for a 
 few minutes our young engineer was the most popular 
 man in Leadville. Then turning to the poor trembling 
 fellow who was seated on a box, the living image of 
 misery and discomfort, he reached out his hand and 
 
"god pity them both and pity us all." 245 
 
 said : " Come, get up, John Barton, and tell me why you 
 are here, and what all this trouble is about." 
 
 They walked away to John's lodgings, where, after 
 he had exchanged his torn coat and made himself pre- 
 sentable, they sat down and he told his version of the 
 affair. John Barton had never married, but upon the 
 remnant of his wealth had contrived to live so well that 
 during the ten years since we saw him a dapper young 
 officer at Richmond, he had added vastly to his flesh 
 and parted with the most of his hair. 
 
 "Well you see, Tom," he said, "these damned fellows 
 don't know a gentleman when they meet one. I had 
 gone into a saloon to get me a cocktail when I found a 
 great crowd of motley fellows hurrahing about the bar, 
 and I would have retreated, but as I attempted to back 
 out they stopped me and swore I had to drink with 
 them. They were celebrating the good luck of a miner 
 who had just 'struck it rich* in the mines, as they say. 
 I told them that I generally selected my company when 
 I took a drink, and this seemed to make them mad. 
 Then they took hold of me and tried to make me drink, 
 which of course I resisted. In the struggle they 
 knocked off my hat, tore my coat most shamefully, 
 and, by heavens, sir ! they were about to drench me as 
 you would a colicky horse, when I tore away from them 
 and ran out the door. That red-faced devil — may old 
 Nick burn him a thousand years ! — drew his six-shooter 
 and commenced firing at me, and if I had'nt run unon 
 a friend there's no telling what would have happened. 
 
246 TOM AND JOE. 
 
 I expect I should have been compelled to stop and take 
 the life of the scoundrel. Oh, tliis is a sweet-scented 
 town! A gentleman feels as lonesome here as a fiddler 
 w^ould in heaven !" 
 
 Tom could not help from smiling at this recital, but 
 was too polite to laugh, as his feelings suggested, and 
 he commiserated with the unfortunate fellow in the 
 best style he could command. He insisted that iji this 
 rough country it was always best to humor the whims 
 of the wild fellows who infest it, when you can do so 
 consistently. They often meant no harm, but hen 
 they got hold of a *' tenderfoot" they generally had 
 some fun. 
 
 "I came up here," resumed Barton, "to invest in 
 mining property, but I think this kind of life will not 
 suit me. Free niggers and cotton have nearly bank- 
 rupted me, but I would rather endure all the vexations 
 of farm life in Louisiana than accumulate wealth in 
 this ante-chamber of hell. A man is not safe here a 
 minute, for if he don't get a bullet that is aimed at 
 him he will pick up one intended for another person. 
 I am not yearning for that kind of death. I used to 
 be a desperate fellow in the old days when there was 
 some credit in getting shot, but I am wdser now. I 
 have found out that for all the fuss they make people 
 have very little use for a dead man. It would be 
 awfully inconvenient to die just now." 
 
 '• I think," replied Tom, " that you would not find 
 this life suited to one of your temperament, and I would 
 advice you to return at once to Louisiana. We must 
 
"god pity them both and pity us all. 
 
 247 
 
 adapt ourselves to the people and circumstances sur- 
 rounding us if we would succeed." 
 
 A few hours later Tom bade his old-time enemy 
 good-bye at the depot, and as the St. Louis express 
 thundered away it carried John Barton out of sight and 
 away from our story. 
 
 The hairs of his head are easy to number now, and 
 a pair of scales is his abhorrence. 
 
CHAPTER XX. 
 
 " TOM'S LAST BIVER JOUBNEY:' 
 
 PJ\ ANY of our readers doubtless think it is high 
 (6) time for us to dispose of Tom. The poor fellow 
 has met many disappointments thus far in life, but the 
 fires have only refined the pure gold of his nature. It 
 takes some sorrows and disasters to round out the 
 character of a young man. They strengthen and 
 develop his soul as healthful exercise hardens the 
 muscles. Yes, it is time to dispose of Tom. We have 
 not shielded him, but have exposed his foibles until 
 the world can judge how well he deserved his troubles. 
 Prosperity has followed his earnest labors and he has 
 the unlimited confidence of his great corporation. AVe 
 have something good in store for him yet, and then 
 we shall part. We have endeavored to record faith- 
 fully the lives of two boys, well remembered in Felici- 
 ana. Our task is nearly done. Could we have saved 
 the gallant Joe, ah! how lovingly would we cling to 
 him until the trembling pen refused to move. It is 
 very difficult for us to become reconciled to some of 
 the tragedies of real life, and no lapse of time can 
 quiet the rebellious heart. Tom has arrived at that 
 mature age and condition when he no longer takes 
 pleasure in " dream life," but peruses the financial 
 
 (248) 
 
^'tom's last river journey." 249 
 
 columns of the morning papers, and discusses the 
 tariff or other political problems. He is a man of 
 business now. He wears shoes with broad soles and 
 fiat heels, while his feet revel in all the '' elbow-room" 
 necessary for comfort. His tastes have changed. It is 
 doubtful _ if Aunt Vinej^'s potato pone would attract 
 him as of old, and a game of mumble-the-peg would 
 not arouse more than a passing emotion. We are not 
 so sure about the marbles. The swimming hole at 
 fair Belhaven is only suggestive of muddy feet and 
 musquitoes. He would laugh at the idea of cavalry 
 boots and variegated neckties. The trouble wit*h Tom 
 is that his boyhood is forever gone. 
 
 Most of the actors in this story have passed away 
 from us during these fifteen years, and so it will ever 
 be as long as people live, and love, and die. We know 
 where dear Joe and the young Georgian sleep under 
 the moaning pine, and memory — oh, so tender! will 
 ever cling about that lonely grave ; our hearts yearned 
 over sweet Jennie as the grief-stricken little woman 
 vanished in the twilight; we heard the volley over the 
 grave of the disappointed and repentant Pete Brownlow; 
 everybody rejoiced over the good fortune and happiness 
 of the giant North Carolinian, and saw the sunset jBush 
 when the noble old judge entered into rest. Goodnight 
 has cared for "poor little fool Si * Owens," and John 
 Barton has bidden the wild west an eternal farewell. 
 Colonel DuPree has grown fat, and still talks " State 
 rights" between naps as he sits on his piazza during 
 the long summer afternoon, while Major Carter, still 
 
250 TOM AND JOE. 
 
 proud and stately, rejoices in the good things of life, 
 and occasionally occupies his pew in the old hill-coun- 
 try church. The brave and handsome Captain Ran- 
 some hung his saber upon the wall and has gone to 
 Congress from Mississippi. He is a " Colonel" now. Is 
 there any one left? If not, we must dispose of the 
 lonely Tom. It would be cruel to leave him desolate. 
 Despite the fact that he is a business man, he often sits 
 in the gathering twilight, and as his soul looks back 
 across the distant years — dreams. 
 
 But stop ! Did we not in the early days of our story 
 catch a glimpse of a pretty little maiden with brown 
 ringlets, who clapped her chubby hands when the 
 mighty steamer bore our hero and his fortunes down the 
 great Father of Waters? Certainly we did. She was 
 a very wee maiden away back yonder in 1853, but she 
 has had ample time to grow during twenty years, and no 
 doubt the pretty curls have changed into a classic twist 
 upon a stately head — so there are yet two characters 
 to be disposed of, else the record might close just here. 
 
 Tom was well to do now. He had taken care of his 
 excellent salary paid him during the past five years 
 and had made some successful mining ventures. His 
 valley home was perhaps as lovely a spot as could be 
 found in beautiful Colorado, but it lacked a mistress 
 since his mother had gone to live with Janet in her 
 city home. Sometimes he wished for some one to 
 help admire his splendid herd of Jerseys. His gun 
 and dog were boon companions often, but even these 
 wearied him. and his guitar stood in one corner with a 
 
**tom's last river journey." 251 
 
 broken string. There was nothing homelike in the 
 hotel where he took his meals, and the accumulation 
 of partly- worn garments in his wardrobe was becom- 
 ing a burden. A woman in the household would have 
 settled all those troubles, and many a poor tramp would 
 have gone away clothed and impudent. In short, Tom 
 was now twenty-six years of age and began to realize 
 that it was not good, nor pleasant, for man to be too 
 much alone. The little god was about to make a tar- 
 get of our hero once more, and was already whetting 
 his arrows for the conflict. 
 
 The pretty town of Quimby had been growing, and 
 the tourist from the East or the far South often stopped 
 there to enjoy the delightful summers. In the spring 
 of 1876 Tom resigned his position with the railroad to 
 accept the office of president in a new national bank 
 just organized to meet the wants of the growing town, 
 and there he found a field for the display of all his 
 executive ability. Had he been in a large city perhaps 
 he would have expanded to meet the greater require- 
 ments of such a place, but he had been raised a coun- 
 try lad and his ideas were scarcely metropolitan. 
 
 As he went home from the bank one afternoon in 
 August there were two ladies sitting upon the famous 
 table-rock. One of these ladies was a fine looking, 
 matronly woman of fifty, and the other, who seemed 
 to be her daughter, was very fair, with just such a sus- 
 picion 'of roses in her cheek as indicated good health. 
 Tom lifted his hat as he passed, and so far forgot his 
 good manners as to look back a time or two ere he 
 
252 TOM AND JOE. 
 
 readied the valley. That night he mended the broken 
 string of his guitar, and may be he sang an old love 
 song, but only Queen Dido, the pointer, and his mild- 
 eyed Jerseys heard the music. When he went to sleep 
 he dreamed such dreams as only visit the pillow of a 
 pure-hearted, vigorous young man 
 
 A few days later the two ladies visited the bank 
 upon some monetary matter — for even the women, 
 dear creatures, are compelled to have money in this 
 sordid world — and from the little item of business it 
 was very easy for Tom to lead them into a spritely 
 conversation, which lasted perhaps twenty minutes. 
 The bank clerks wondered what made their superior 
 so loath to let the ladies depart, and when they did 
 leave the teller whispered to the book-keeper — 
 
 " That's a dog-gone pretty girl I" 
 
 Of course the young man meant no disrespect by 
 this irreverent remark, but all boys who do not actually 
 swear roll this expressive word under their tongues as 
 a sweet morsel and fire it off on the slightest provoca- 
 tion. We doubt if there is a boy in America who has 
 not at some time or other used this expression in some 
 of its moods, or tenses, and felt relieved. It is a sort 
 of compromise when we are angry and our aroused 
 consciences cry out against profanity; but oftener it 
 it merely comes as an idle word which we are told will 
 be reckoned for on some dismal day in the hereafter. 
 
 Ere long the gossips of Quimby declared that the 
 young bank president was smitten with the fair tour- 
 ist, Miss Edith Gordon, and that the young lady was 
 
253 
 
 Tery gracious. Certain it is that the best carriage of 
 the one livery stable in the village was occupied every 
 bright afternoon by a gentleman and two ladies, who 
 seemed to be wonderfully fond of the mountain scenery, 
 and hardly a day passed but the general health of the 
 party required that they should drink of a certain 
 mineral spring a few miles down the valley. It is also 
 certain that on Sunday the two young people used the 
 same song book at church — books being scarce in 
 frontier churches — and as Edith's rich soprano filled 
 all the air with melody, Tom almost forgot his bass 
 while listening. The faithful preacher, whose salary 
 was an unknown quantity, could almost hear the music 
 of wedding bells as he looked upon the charming 
 couple. 
 
 Tom showed the ladies his pretty home, and listened 
 with complacency to their raptures over his herd of 
 poetic Jerseys, or envied Queen Dido certain demon- 
 strations of fondness at the hands of the young lady. 
 Then, one day when the tourists started back to their 
 Louisiana home, he found that business required a trip 
 to St. Louis in the same train that carried the ladies. 
 The truth of the whole matter is that our Tom had 
 calmly, deliberately, and "with sedate mind," as the 
 lawyers say, fallen again into his most prominent 
 youthful habit — ^and into love. 
 
 Love is a fever, not like measles or yellow fever of 
 which there is no return, but dangerous, inasmuch as 
 no man ever gets too old to be attacked. The fever may 
 cool and the patient be pronounced entirely well, when 
 
254 TOM AND JOE. 
 
 some unfortunate exposure, or lawn party, will bring on 
 another attack until the poor fellow becomes real silly. 
 
 "When Tom bade Edith good-bye at the steamer, he 
 suddenly felt a great yearning for his old Southland 
 home, and declared that he would spend his next 
 Christmas in Louisiana. He begged that he might 
 visit the fair girl at her home, and then he returned to 
 Quimby to find that never within the memory of the 
 oldest and most truthful inhabitant, had the autumn 
 months taken so long to pass by. Every day seemed 
 about twenty-four hours long, and, but for the fact 
 that he had an easy conscience, with good digestion, 
 the nights would have tallied another score. But the 
 weeks and months will hurry by, sometimes with a 
 speed that makes us dizzy, and when, at the close of 
 another year, we try to reckon its profits and losses, the 
 balance sheet appalls us. 
 
 Again the winter came thundering down from far 
 off" icy regions, spreading over mountain, plain and 
 valley, as the Goths and Vandals desolated the fair 
 Campania about the Roman city. Beneath its cold 
 touch, flower and herb grew brown and rigid* the 
 trout brook hushed its pretty lullaby ; the tower- 
 ing hills grew white, and the song of birds was 
 heard no more. Tom stood upon the table-rock listen- 
 ing to the migration notes of the wild goose, and he 
 remembered that in two days more it would honk with 
 joy amid the rice and cane fields of his own Louisiana. 
 
 Did no ghost of the past haunt this pleasant faced 
 young man, as he looked with impatience to his South- 
 
255 
 
 ern visit? Was the memory of the long-ago scene 
 beneath the old beech-tree at Belhaven dead ? Who 
 talks of undying love in this world of broken vows? 
 If love lives forever ; if the divine essence must exist in 
 spite of forgotten vows and broken hearts, it teaches a 
 doctrine of transmigration as it speeds from the wreck 
 of to-day, and fills to-morrow with sunshine. 
 
 Ah, no ! the memory of that other love was not dead 
 with Tom, but put away under some secret lock, and 
 the key cast into the fathomless depths of "Nevermore." 
 That night a faded note, taken from alongside the deed 
 to the home, was wrapped about a sweet girl's photo- 
 graph, and both disappeared forever from mortal vision. 
 There was a shade of sorrow about the blue eyes as the 
 flames obscured their beauty, but the sunny smile rose 
 up with the curling smoke and filled the room as burn- 
 ing incense filled the holy place. 
 
 At the next meeting of the bank directory, Tom left 
 that institution in their charge, and sped away to look 
 after certain interests away down in the low country, 
 where the Mississippi rushes to the sea. 
 
 Two days before Christmas, the steamer Great Ee- 
 publie on its way to New Orleans, rounded to in the 
 early morning at a plantation landing not many miles 
 below Vicksburg, and as the giant vessel turned at the 
 pilots touch, her brazen mouth-piece boomed out a 
 note of warning that startled every sleeping echo for 
 twenty miles around, and awoke many an ancient 
 darkey from happy dreams of " possum and taters." 
 There was some little commotion at the house and 
 
256 TOM AND JOE. 
 
 quarters, for whilst coast packets were an every day 
 occurrence, it was not often that they saw a grand up- 
 country steamer, except as it swept proudly past on its 
 way to the Crescent City. As usual, quite a lot of 
 negroes turned out to see the steamer land. Some 
 came to make themselves useful, but the majority be- 
 cause they had no business there. 
 
 "Name o' Gawd!" exclaimed old Uncle Tom, the 
 good-natured major-domo of the carriage-house. "Jess 
 lissen at de Graterpublic beller! Holler like he own. 
 dis whole plantashun an' dun cum fer it. I'm gwine- 
 ter run over to de lebby an' pick up a quarter from sum 
 white man fo' sum dem new-issue niggers gets in erhead 
 o' me." 
 
 Then the old man dropped the brush with which he had 
 been tickling Lightfoot and hurried away to the landing 
 
 " What de debbil dat big boat mean trineter cave off 
 a aker o' dis farm at one time?" queried young Bullet, 
 as he sauntered leisurely down to the landing with the 
 regulation "one gallus," and his old slouched hat stuck 
 rakishly over his left ear. "Gwineter buss dis lebby 
 jilum open wid her ting-a-ling-ling^ iong-a-long-long ^ 
 tchowf tchoivf an' dem niggers hollerin wid dat gang- 
 plank like sumbody drap hot ashes in da shoes. Bet 
 a hundred dollers da got ter pay fer dat aker o' Ian, 
 else ole Miss Gord'n gwineter takum to der cote house 
 sho! Eun out dat line dare, you blac rascals, fo' I buss 
 you open wid dis stick o' cawd wood!" This last 
 remark was directed to the roustabouts of the boat — at 
 a safe distance. 
 
"tom's last rivek journey." 257 
 
 While the old negro still clings to his ancient habit 
 of calling upon the name of deity on every trivial occa- 
 sion, the young "new-issue-nigger" is equally certain 
 to invoke the devil. The old slave means no harm, 
 and in his simple ignorance clings to his long-formed 
 habits, but the young freedman appeals to his patron 
 in utter wantonness. He would not mend his ways 
 under anything short of a Ku-klux visitation. 
 
 All this hurrah in the early morning resulted in 
 landing one passenger, and our Tom giving his old 
 namesake the expected quarter with his valise to carry, 
 walked to the house with a degree of apparent uncon- 
 cern that won for him the respect of every darkey who 
 beheld him. 
 
 "Man, ser!" exclaimed Aunt Eunice, the cook, who 
 from her kitchen window could command the walk to 
 the landing. "He holes heself up like a shorenuf 
 white man. I 'low he's dat young bankerman what I 
 hyeard Marse Bob a teasin' Miss Edy about. I do 
 think on my soul Marse Bob is de devilishest white 
 man I ever seed in all my born days 1 He is that agry- 
 vatin, an' there ain't no time but what he's a teasin' an^ 
 a worryin' Miss Edy or Ole Miss. I lay Miss Edy '11 
 hafter marry dat man jess so she can go way an' git 
 shet o' dat onregenerate brother o' hern. But, law! 
 Marse Bob don't mean no meanness in his debblement, 
 fer he's jest as good to his sister as he kin be — 'ceppen 
 his mischief Ef dat white man is de right kind o' 
 'stockracy he kin marry Miss Edy, if she'll let him, an' 
 ef he ain't he kaint." 
 
258 TOM AND JOE. 
 
 Tom was very kiudly received and spent one bliss- 
 ful week on the plantation. Buggy rides along the 
 smooth river road and under the leafless branches of 
 the great trees; never to be forgotten strolls along the 
 levee, listening to the murmur of the great river and 
 to the music of their own voices; songs and games by 
 lamplight in the parlor; stately dinners where Uncle 
 Tom officiated in the blackest of coats and whitest 
 of aprons ; cosy teas that make a man forget he ever 
 had a trouble or a sorrow; sweet whispered confidences 
 in the moonlight that was filling all the Southland with 
 splendor, and a formal conference or" family meeting" 
 to name the day — for Tom and Edith had wandered 
 into each other's hearts and avowed their mutual hap- 
 piness — all rounded out the seven days' visit, and made 
 our quondam engineer feel that life was worth living 
 a thousand years. He wanted to know why the wed- 
 ding could not take place at once, but when he noted 
 the look of polite surprise upon the face of his intended 
 mother-in-law he offered no more propositions, but let 
 that worthy lady arrange matters to suit herself, while 
 he discussed with the sedate Bob the relative merits 
 of the "levee" and the "outlet" systems for the great 
 river. 
 
 Three weeks Tras the shortest time possible to arrange 
 for the marriage, and even that was considered a con- 
 cession to the calls of business which ought not to be 
 established as a precedent, then Tom went away down 
 the river to visit other friends, and relapsed into his 
 old time habit of dreaming. 
 
\ 
 
 "TOM^S LAST RIVER JOURNEY." 259 
 
 How long and how short is the time comprised in 
 the measure of three weeks ! The queen who offered 
 millions of money for minutes of time, would have 
 bankrupted the nation in three weeks, and the man 
 who waits for the hangman bewails the speed with 
 which they slip away. But to the anxious lover wait- 
 ing for the hour that shall link his destiny with the 
 future of one, who, putting her little hand in his, shall 
 say : " Thy people shall be my people, and thy God, 
 my God" — those weeks are all too slow, and even the 
 hours devoted to dreaming shall loiter by the way. 
 Yet the time will pass, and we have known a faithful 
 lover grow old with waiting. 
 
 Ah, Tom ! your happiness has been long coming, 
 but the heavens bend down to kiss you now, and the 
 future seems fairer than a summer day. The storms 
 are all past, the earthquake throes have ceased, and 
 there is a feeling of warmth about the heart that proves 
 the doctrine of love's metempsychosis 
 * * * 4t * « « 
 
 Again a mighty steamer is rushing up the great 
 river. This time the tall young man has grown man- 
 lier, and there are no fogs drifting around the vessel. 
 The lordly sun has gone done into the west, but ere he 
 sank the earth was crimson with glory and the clouds 
 were aflame. Then as the purple shadows came stream- 
 ing across the water and a willow-crowned point shut 
 away from view her distant home, a fair girl looked up 
 into Tom Mabry's face and sweet lips murmured • 
 
 "Dear love, I will go with thee, never doubting, even 
 to the end of the earth." 
 
Hil 
 
 ^fl 
 
 ^n|^ 
 
 ^^^MM 
 
 P^^ff^^Ks-j 
 
 ^K^^l 
 
 ^^w 
 
 
 1 ^.^^^il^^lf^ 
 
 ^^^^^^^^ 
 
 ^^wv^ 
 
 ^m 
 
 BIS„ 
 
 ^^P^^»^^^J 
 
 m 
 
 ^^^^^H 
 
 ^^^^^ 
 
 mm^^^^^m ^mmm^ 
 
 ^^^^R«- 
 
 w3MBm 
 
 w^ 
 
 
 i^p^^^Ki 
 
 
 w^S 
 
 Km^W 
 
 ?^ ~^' ^ ^ 1 
 
 ^^^B 
 
 g^J^ 
 
 
 »^?^T^- ^-^^^i 
 
 
 
 ^= ^^^^^s =^^=^ 
 
 ^^^M^S^^ 
 
 ^HMi 
 
 ^^^^^^£= ^H 
 
 ^.^^^h^^^^ 
 
 »= _ =m== - 
 
 - * ^ — ■V-T^TJ^ 
 
 = =5=^.^^^^- 
 
 wm 
 
 ^^i 
 
 Pl 
 
 m^^w^^^^ 
 
 ^ym«a_^^^« 
 
 
 ^^« 
 
 
 ^^^^■•B 
 
 ^^^« 
 
 i^^-^^^S^^^ 
 
 ^^^^^z-^m^mm^^^ 
 
 ^^plP^^^^^^g^^^ J7 : 
 
 l^^iP^S. 
 
 "* * P^ — •*'■ • g~^— 
 
 =*=3^^^=~=.=^=i'.S^^E^-:^t ■ 
 
 ^i^T=-^^^'^^^ 
 
 ^^^^^^Bi 
 
 
 ^^b===.:#^=-- — ■jTmr^ '^'^^ ' ' 
 
 ^ -:^ gi^' .izj: ■^ .^^.== 
 
 — I .TlT^: =.^ 
 
 : — jcr-.g:^^^-^^ 
 
 m^^M^^^^^^E 
 
 =i^ =-=^^:^^i^ S = 
 
 ^ == ^y~- — »-== 
 
 ^' 
 
 =-=A^ J* .^^s ^^ WS 
 
 ^siJLT^ i^^^r-Z^^^j^^^^Ti^^^^^s^ ^= 
 
 l^ip 
 
 ^K^^^^^^ 
 
 raarfliu 
 
 
 
 ^=;^ ~gE .- M^-g-^-^=^^"5=^==^=^s;- - / t^ "^ |- — jl 
 
 wm 
 
 ^^^^ft-bS 
 
 ^"^p^^ 
 
 fe^E.^^^^ 
 
 W^^^A 
 
 '^^H^^^^^^^^^ -^ ' -"^^ 
 
 
 ^^^^^^- 1/^ -J 
 
 a^^^^mm^ 
 
 ^^Mf! 
 
 a^SgAShBu^y^BB-.-^SMS^T^g^^e^Bj^B gs ^ 
 
 ^*-^^^^= 
 
 ^^, ^ J ^ 
 
 
RARE BOOK 
 COLLECTION 
 
 THE LIBRARY OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF 
 
 NORTH CAROLINA 
 
 AT 
 
 CHAPEL HILL 
 
 Wilmer 
 250