THE UNIVERSITY OF 
 
 NORTH CAROLINA 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 THE WILMER COLLECTION 
 
 OF CIVIL WAR NOVELS 
 
 PRESENTED BY 
 
 RICHARD H. WILMER, JR. 
 
Q0LLtA««4\M< 
 
 
AMONG THE PINES, 
 
AMONG THE PINES 
 
 SOUTH IN SECESSION-TIME, 
 
 BY 
 
 EDMUND KIRKE. 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 
 J. R. GILMORE, 532 BROADWAY. 
 
 CUARLES T. EVANS. 
 
 1SG2. 
 
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1862, 
 
 BY J. E. GILMORE, 
 
 In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States, for the 
 
 Southern District of New York. 
 
 M'CREA & MILLER, STBHBOTTPEBS. O. A, AXVOED, PKINTEE 
 
RICHARD B. KIMBALL, 
 
 THK ArCOMPLlSHED ACTUOE, TKE POLISHED GENTLEMAN, 
 
 MY OLD AND EVER-VALUED FRIEND, 
 
 THESE SKETCHKS AKK DEDICATED 
 
 A UTHO R 
 
 602923 
 
CONTEXTS. 
 
 Page. 
 
 CHAPTER I. — On tiie Road. — Arrival at Georgetown. — The 
 Village Inn. — Nocturnal Adventures. — My African Driver. — 
 His Strange History. — Genuine Negro Songs. — Arrival at 
 Bucksville 10 
 
 CHAPTER II. — Wayside Hospitality. — A Strange Meeting. 
 
 A Well Ordered Plantation. — A Thunder-storm. — A New 
 
 Quest. — The Hidden Springs of Secession Exposed. — On the 
 Way Again. — Intelligence of the Negro. — Renconter with a 
 Secessionist 2" 
 
 CHAPTER III.— Crossing the Runs. — The Black Declines 
 His Freedom— His Reasons for so Doing.— A '"native " Abo- 
 litionist.— S\nmming the Run.— Black Spirits and White.— 
 Shelter ^^ 
 
 CHAPTER IV.— Poor Whites.— The Mills House —South Car- 
 olina Clay-Eaters.— Political Discussion.- President Lincoln a 
 Xegro.— •■ Three in a Bed and one in the Middle."— $250 re- 
 ward.— A Secret League 69 
 
 CHAP fER v.— On the Plantation.— The Planter's Dwelling. 
 —His House-Keeper.— The Process of Turpentine Making. 
 —Loss to Carolina by Secession.— The Dying Boy.— The Story 
 of Jim. — A Northern Man with Southern Principles. — Sam 
 Murdered.— Pursuit of the Overseer 9-i 
 
 CHAPTER VI. — The Planter's Family. — The old Nurse. — 
 Her Story.- A White Slave- Woman's Opinion of Slavery.— 
 The Stables.— The Negro-Quarters.— Sunday Exercises.— The 
 Taking of Moye 12Y 
 
 CHAPTER VI [.—Plantation Discipline.— Tlie "Ole Cabin." 
 —The Mode of Negro Punishment.— The "' Thumb-Screw."—' 
 A Ministering Angel.— A Negro Trial.- A Rebellion.— A Tur- 
 pentine Dealer.— A Boston Dray on its Travels 150 
 
 CHAPTER VIII — The Negro Hunter. — Young Democrats. — 
 Political Discussion.— Startling Statistics.— A Freed Negro... 1G9 
 
8 CONTEXTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 CHAPTER IX.— The Country Church. — Its Description.— 
 The " Corn-Cracker." — The News. — Strange Disclosure 180 
 
 CHAPTER X.— The Negro Funeral.— The Burial Ground.— 
 A Negro Senmon. — The Appearance of Juley. — The Colonel's 
 Heartlessness. — The Octoroon's Explanation of it. — The Es- 
 cape of Moje 196 
 
 CHAPTER XL— The Pursuit.— The Start.— " Carolina Race- 
 Horses." — A Race. — We Lose the Trail. —A Tornado. — A 
 Narrow Escape. — 207 
 
 CHAPTER XII.— The Yankee Schoolmistress. — Our New 
 Apparel. — " Kissing Goes by Favor." — Schools at the South... 222 
 
 CHAPTER XIII.— The Railway Station.— The Village.- A 
 Drunken Yankee. — A Narrow Escape. — And)' Jones. — A 
 Light-Wood Fire.— The Colonel's Departure 227 
 
 CHAPTER XIV.— The Barbacue.— The Camp-Ground.— The 
 Stump-Speaker. — A Stump Speech. — Almost a Fight. — The 
 Manner of Roasting the Ox 239 
 
 CHAPTER XV.— The Return.— Arrival at the Plantation.— 
 Disappearance of Juley and her child. — The Old Preacher's 
 Story. — Scene Between the Master and the Slave 253 
 
 CHAPTER XVL — "One More Unfortunate."— Attempted 
 Whipping of Jim. — Appearance of the " Corn-Cracker." — 
 " Drowned.— Drowned." 260 
 
 CHAPTER XVIL— The Small Planter.— His House.— His 
 Wife. — His Negroes. — A Juvenile Darky. — Lazarus in 
 " Ab'ram's Buzzum." — White and Black Labor Compared. — 
 The Mysteries of '' Rosum " manufacture 277 
 
 CHAPTER XVIIL— The Burial of Jule.— '^ He Tempers the 
 Wind to the Shorn Lamb." — The Funeral 295 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. — Homeward Bound. — Colonel A 
 
 Again. — Parting with Scipio. — Why this Book was Written. 298 
 
 CHAPTER XX. — Conclusion. — The Author's Explanations. — 
 Last News from Moye and Scipio. — Affecting Letter from 
 Andy Jones.— The End 303 
 
AMONG THE PINES 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 ox THE ROAD, 
 
 Some winters ago I passed several weeks at Tallahas- 
 see, Florida, and while there made the acquaintance of 
 
 Colonel J , a South Carolina planter. Accident, 
 
 some little time later, threw us together again at Charles- 
 ton, when I was gratified to learn that he would be my 
 compagnon du voyage as far north as Xew York. 
 
 He was accompanied by his body-servant, " Jim," a 
 fine specimen of the genus darky, about thirty years of 
 age, and born and reared in his master's family. As 
 far as possible we made the journey by day, stopping 
 at some convenient resting-place by night ; on which 
 occasions the Colonel, Jim, and myself would occupy 
 the same or adjoining apartments, "we white folks" 
 sleeping on four posts, while the more democratic negro 
 spread his blanket on the floor. Thrown together thus 
 1* 
 
10 AMONG THE PINES. 
 
 intimately, it was but natural that we should learn much 
 of each other. 
 
 The " Colonel" was a highly cultivated and intelligent 
 gentleman, and during this journey a friendship sprung 
 up between us — afterward kept alive by a regular cor- 
 respondence — which led him, with his wife and daugh- 
 ter, and the man Jim, to my house on his next visit at 
 the North, one year later. I then promised — if I 
 should ever again travel in South Carolina — to visit 
 him on his plantation in the extreme north-eastern part 
 of the state. 
 
 In December last, about the time of the passage of 
 the ordinance of secession, I had occasion to visit 
 Charleston, and, previous to setting out, dispatched a 
 letter to the Colonel with the information that I was 
 ready to be led of him " into the wilderness." On ar- 
 riving at the head-quarters of secession, I found a 
 missive awaiting me, in which my friend cordially re- 
 newed his previous tender of hospitality, gave me par- 
 ticular directions how to proceed, and stated that his 
 " man Jim" would meet me with a carriage at George- 
 town, and convey me thence, seventy miles, to " the 
 plantation." 
 
 Ha\'ing performed the business which led me to 
 Charleston, I set out for the rendezvous five days be- 
 fore the date fixed for the meeting, intending to occupy 
 the intervening time in an exploration of the ancient 
 town and its surroundings. 
 
 The little steamer Xina (a cross between a fuU- 
 
ON THE EOAD. 1 1 
 
 gro\m nautilus and a half-grown tub), which a few 
 weeks later was enrolled as the first man-of-war of the 
 Confederate navy, then performed the carrying trade 
 between the two principal cities of South Carolina. 
 On her, together Avith sundry boxes and bales, and 
 certain human merchandise, I embarked at Charleston, 
 and on a delicious morning, late in December, landed 
 at Georgetown. 
 
 As the embryo war-steamer rounded up to the long, 
 low, rickety dock, lumbered breast-high with cotton, 
 turpentine, and rosin, not a white face was to be seen. 
 A few half-clad, shiftless-looking negroes, lounging idly 
 about, were the only portion of the population in wait- 
 ing to witness our landing. 
 
 " Are all the people dead ?" I inquired of one of 
 them, thinking it strange that an event so important 
 as the arrival of the Charleston packet should excite 
 no greater interest in so quiet a town. " Not dead, 
 massa," replied the black, with a knowing chuckk, 
 "but dey'm gettin' ready for a fun'ral." "What fu- 
 neral ?" I asked. " Why, dey'm gwine to shoot all de 
 boblition darkies at de Xorf, and hab a brack burying ; 
 he ! he !" and the sable gentleman expanded the open- 
 ing in his countenance to an enormous extent, doubt- 
 less at the brilliancy of his wit. 
 
 I asked him to take my portmanteau, and conduct 
 me to the best hotel. He readily assented, " Yas, yas, 
 massa, I show you whar de big-hwis stop ;" but at 
 once turning to another darky standing near, he ac- 
 
12 AMONG THE FIXES. 
 
 costed him with, " Here, Jim, you lazy nigga, tote de 
 gemman's tings." 
 
 " Why don't you take them yourself?" I asked ; 
 " you will then get all the pay." " Xo, no, massa ; 
 dat nigga and me in partenship ; he do de work, and 
 I keeps de change," was the grinning reply, and it ad- 
 mirably illustrates a peculiarity I have observed to be 
 universal with the negro. When left to his own di- 
 rection, he invariably " goes into partenship" with some 
 one poorer than himself, and no matter how trivial the 
 task, shirks all the labor he can. 
 
 The silent darky and my portmanteau in the van, 
 and the garrulous old negro guarding my flank, I 
 wended my way through the principal street to the 
 hotel. On the route I resumed the conversation : 
 
 '^ So, uncle, you say the peoj)le here are getting 
 ready for a black burying ?" 
 
 " Yas, massa, gwiue to bury all dem mis'able free 
 niggas at de Norf" 
 
 "Why? What will you do that for ?" 
 
 " Why for, massa ! you ax why for !" he exclaimed 
 in surj^rise. 
 
 " I don't know," I rejoined ; " I'm a stranger here." 
 
 " Well, you see, massa, dem boblition niggas up dar 
 hab gone and 'lected a ole darky, dey call Uncle Abe ; 
 and Old Abe he'se gwine to come down Souf, and cut 
 de decent niggas' troats. He'll hab a good time — he 
 will! My young massa's captin ob de sogers, and he'll 
 cotch de ole coon, and string him up so high de crows 
 
ox THE TtOAD. 13 
 
 won't scent him ; yas, he will ;" and again the old 
 darky's face opened till it looked like the entrance to 
 the Mammoth Cave. He, evidently, had read tlic 
 Southern p;ipers. 
 
 Depositing my luggage at the hotel, which I found 
 on a side street — a dibipidated, impainted wooden build- 
 ing, with a female landlord — I started out to explore 
 the town, till the hour for dinner. Retracing my steps 
 in the direction of the steamboat landing, I found the 
 streets nearly deserted, although it was the hour when 
 the business of the day is usually transacted. Soon I 
 discovered the cause. The militia of the place were 
 out on parade. Preceded by a colored band, playing 
 national airs — in doleful keeping with the occasion — 
 and followed by a motley collection of negroes of all 
 sexes and ages, the company was entering the principal 
 thoroughfare. As it passed me, I could judge of the 
 prowess of the redoubtable captain, who, according to 
 Pompey, will hang the President " so high de crows 
 won't scent him." He was a harmless-looking young 
 man, with long, spindle legs, admirably adapted to run- 
 ning. Though not formidable in other respects, there icas 
 a certain martial air about an enormous sabre which hung 
 at his side, and occasionally got entangled in his nether 
 integuments, and a fiery, warlike look to the heavy tuft 
 of reddish hair which sprouted in bristling defiance 
 from his upper lip. 
 
 The company numbered about seventy, some with 
 uniforms and some without, and bearing all sorts of 
 
14: AMONG THE PINES. 
 
 arms, from the old flint-lock musket to the modern re- 
 volving rifle. They were, however, sturdy fellows, and 
 looked as if they might do service at " the imminent 
 deadly breach." Their full ranks taken fi'om a popula- 
 tion of less than five hundred whites, told unmistakably 
 the intense war feehng of the community. 
 
 Georgetown is one of the oldest towns in South Car- 
 olina, and it has a decidedly Jinishcd 'c\^\:>QaYniice. Xot 
 a single building, I was informed, had been erected 
 there in five years. Turpentine is one of the chief pro- 
 ductions of the district ; yet the cost of white lead and 
 chrome yellow has made paint a scarce commodity, and 
 the houses, consequently, all wear a dingy, decayed 
 look. Though situated on a magnificent bay, a little 
 below the confluence of three noble rivers, which drain 
 a country of sui-passing richness, and though the centre 
 of the finest rice-growing district in the world, the 
 town is dead. Every thing about it wears an air of 
 dilapidation. The few white men you meet in its 
 streets, or see lounging lazily around its stores and 
 warehouses, appear to lack all purpose and energy. 
 Long contact with the negro seems to have given them 
 his sliiftless, ahnless character. 
 
 The ordinance of secession passed the legislature 
 shortly prior to my arrival, and, as might be ex- 
 pected, the political situation was the all-engrossing 
 topic of thought and conversation. In the estimation 
 of the whites a glorious future was about to open on 
 the little state. Whether she stood alone, or sup- 
 
ox THE KOAD. 15 
 
 ported by the other slave states, she would assume 
 a higli rank among the nations of the earth ; her cot- 
 ton and rice would draw trade and wealth from every 
 land, and when she spoke, creation would tremble. Such 
 overweening state pride in such a people — shit\less, 
 indolent, and enervated as they are — strikes a stranger 
 as in the last degree ludicrous ; but when they tell you, 
 in the presence of the black, whose strong brawny arm 
 and sinewy frame show that in him lies the real strength 
 of the state, that this great empire is to be built on the 
 shoulders of the slave, your smile of incredulity gives 
 way to an expression of pity, and you are tempted to 
 ask if those sinewy machines may not think, and some 
 day rise, and topple down the mighty fabric which is to 
 be reared on their backs ! 
 
 Among the " peculiar institutions" of the South are 
 its inns, I do not refer to the pinchbeck, imitation St. 
 Nicholas establishments, which flourish in the larger 
 cities, but to those home-made affairs, noted for hog and 
 hominy, corn-cake and waffles, which crop out here and 
 there in the smaller towns, the natural growth of South- 
 ern life and institutions. A model of this class is the 
 one at Georgetown. Hog, hominy, and corn-cake for 
 breakfast; waffles, hog, and hominy for dinner; and 
 hog, hominy, and corn-cake for supper — and such corn- 
 cake, baked in the ashes of the hearth, a plentiful sup- 
 ply of the grayish condiment still clinging to it ! — is 
 its never-varying bill of fare. I endured this fare for- 
 a day, Aomj, has ever since been a mystery to me, but 
 
16 AMONG THE PmES. 
 
 when night came my experiences were indescribable. 
 Retiring early, to get the rest needed to fit me for a 
 long ride on the morrow, I soon realized that " there 
 is no rest for the wicked," none, at least, for sinners 
 at the South. Scarcely had my head touched the pil- 
 low when I was besieged by an army of red-coated 
 secessionists, who set upon me without mercy. I with- 
 stood the assault manfiilly, till " bleeding at every pore," 
 and then slowly and sorrowfully beat a retreat. Ten 
 thousand to one is greater odds than the gallant Ander- 
 son encountered at Sumter. Yet I determined not to 
 fully abandon the field. Placing three chairs in a row, 
 I mounted upon them, and in that seemingly impregna- 
 ble position hurled defiance at the enemy, in the words 
 of Scott (sUghtly altered to suit the occasion) : 
 
 " Come one, come all, these chairs shall fly 
 From their firm base as soon as I." 
 
 My exultation, however, was of short duration. The 
 persistent foe, scaling my intrenchments, soon re- 
 turned to the assault with redoubled vigor, and in 
 utter despair I finally fled. Groping my way through 
 the hall, and out of the street-door, I departed. The 
 Sable Brother — alias the Son of Ham — ahas the Image 
 of God carved in Ebony — alias the Oppressed Type — 
 alias the Contraband — alias the Irrepressible digger — 
 alias the Chattel— ahas the Darky — alias the Cullud 
 Pusson — had informed me that I should find the Big 
 Bugs at that hotel. I had found them. 
 
ON THE r^-OAD. 17 
 
 Staying longer in such a place was out of the ques- 
 tion, and I determined to make my way to the up- 
 country without longer waiting for Jim. With the 
 first streak of day I sallied out to find the means of 
 locomotion. 
 
 The ancient town boasts no public conveyance, ex- 
 cept a one-horse gig that carrier the mail in tri-weekly 
 trips to Charleston. That vehicle, originally used by 
 some New England doctor, in the early part of the 
 past century, had but one seat, and besides, was not 
 going the way I intended to take, so I was forced to 
 seek a conveyance at a livery-stable. At the only 
 livery estabUshment in the place, kept by a *' cullud 
 pusson," who, though a slave, owns a stud of horses 
 that might, among a people more movingly inclined, 
 yield a respectable income, I found what I wanted — a 
 light Newark buggy, and a spanking gray. Provided 
 with these, and a darky driver, who was to accompany 
 me to my destination, and return alone, I started. A 
 trip of seventy miles is something of an undertaking in 
 that region, and quite a crowd gathered around to wit- 
 ness our departure, not a soul of whom, I will wager, 
 will ever hear the rumble of a stage-coach, or the whis- 
 tle of a steam-car, in those sandy, deserted streets. 
 
 We soon left the village, and struck a broad avenue, 
 lined on either side by fine old trees, and extending in an 
 air-line for several miles. The road is skirted by broad 
 rice-fields, and these are dotted here and there by large 
 antiquated houses, and little collections of negro huts. 
 
IS AMONG THE PINES. 
 
 It was Christmas week ; no hands were busy in 'he 
 fields, and every thing wore the aspect of Sunday. We 
 had ridden a few miles when suddenly the road sunk 
 into a deep, broad stream, called, as the driver told me, 
 the Black River. Xo appliance for crossing being at 
 hand, or in sight, I was about concluding that some 
 modern Moses accommodated travellers by passing them 
 over its bed dry-shod, when a flat-boat shot out from 
 the jungle on the opposite bank, and pulled toward us. 
 It was built of two-inch plank, and manned by two in- 
 firm darkies, with frosted wool, who seemed to need all 
 their strength to sit upright. In that leaky craft, kept 
 afloat by incessant baling, we succeeded, at the end ot 
 an hour, in crossing the river. And this, be it under- 
 stood, is travelling m one of the richest districts of South 
 Carolina I 
 
 We soon left the region of the rice-fields, and plunged 
 into dense forests of the long-leafed pine, where for miles 
 not a house, or any other evidence of human occupa- 
 tion, is to be seen. Xothing could well be more dreary 
 than a ride through such a region, and to while away 
 the tedium of the journey I opened a conversation with 
 the driver, who up to that time had maintained a re- 
 spectful silence. 
 
 He was a genuine native African, and a most original 
 and interesting specimen of his race. His thin, close- 
 cut lips, straight nose and European features contrasted 
 strangely with a skin of ebon blackness, and the quiet, 
 simple dignity of his manner betokened superior intel- 
 
ON THE KOAD. 19 
 
 licence. His story was a strange one. ^Ylien a boy, 
 with his mother, he was kidnapped by a hostile tribe, 
 and sold to the traders at Cape Lopez, on the western' 
 coast of Africa. There, in the slave-pen, the mother 
 died, and he, a child of seven years, was sent in the 
 slave-ship to Cuba. At Havana, when sixteen, he at- 
 tracted the notice of a gentleman residing in Charleston, 
 who bought him and took him to " the States." He 
 lived as house-servant in the family of this gentleman 
 till 1855, when his master died, leaving him a legacy to 
 a daughter. This lady, a kind, indulgent mistress, had 
 since allowed him to " hire his time," and he then car- 
 ried on an " independent business," as porter, and doer 
 of all work around the wharves and streets of George- 
 town. He thus gained a comfortable hving, besides 
 paying to his mistress one hundred and fifty dollars 
 yearly for the privilege of earning his own support. 
 In every way he was a remarkable negro, and my three 
 days' acquaintance with him banished from my mind all 
 doubt as to the capacity of the black for freedom, and 
 all question as to the disposition of the slave to strike 
 off his chains when the favorable moment arrives. From 
 him I learned that the blacks, though pretending ignor- 
 ance, are fully acquainted with the questions at issue in 
 the pending contest. He expressed the opinion, that 
 war would come in consequence of the stand South Car- 
 olina had taken ; and when I said to "him : " But if it 
 comes you will be no better off. It will end in a com- 
 promise, and leave you where you are." He answered : 
 
20 AMONG THE FIXES. 
 
 " Xo, massa, 't wout do dat. De Souf will fight hard, 
 and de Korf will get de blood up, and come down har, 
 and do 'way wid de cause ob all de trubble — and dat 
 am de nigga." 
 
 "But," I said, "perhaps the South will drive the 
 Xorth back ; as you say, they will fight hard." 
 
 "Dat dey will, massa, dey'm de fightin' sort, but 
 dey can't whip de Norf, 'cause you see dey'll fight wid 
 only one hand. When dey fight de Xorf wid de right 
 hand, dey'll hev to hold de nigga wid de leff." 
 
 " But," I replied, " the blacks wont rise ; most of 
 you have kind masters and fare well." 
 
 "Dat's true, massa, but dat an't freedom, and de 
 black lub freedom as much as de white. De same 
 blessed Loed made dem both, and He made dem all 
 'like, 'cep de skin. De blacks hab strong hands, and 
 when de day come you'll see dey hab heads, too !" 
 
 Much other conversation, showing him possessed of a 
 high degree of intelligence, passed between us. In answer 
 to my question if he had a family, he said : " Xo, sar. 
 ]My blood shall neber be slaves ! Ole massa flog me and 
 threaten to kill me 'cause I wouldn't take to de wim- 
 min ; but I tole him to kill, dat 't would be more his 
 loss dan mine." 
 
 I asked if the negroes generally felt as he did, and he 
 told me that many did ; that nearly all would fight for 
 their freedom if they had the opportunity, though some 
 preferred slavery because they were sure of being cared 
 for when old and infirm, not considering that if their 
 
ON THE ROAD. 21 
 
 labor, while they were strong, made their masters rich, 
 the same labor would aftbrd them provision against old 
 age. He told me that there are in the district of George- 
 town twenty thousand blacks, and not more than two 
 thousand whites, and "Suppose," he added, " dat one- 
 quarter ob dese niggas rise — de rest keep still — whar 
 den would de white folks be ?" 
 
 " Of course," I replied, " they would be taken at a 
 disadvantage ; but it would not be long before aid came 
 from Charleston, and you would be overpowered." 
 
 " Ko, massa, de chivarly, as you call dem, would be 
 'way in Virginny, and 'fore dey hard of it Massa Seward 
 would hab troops 'nough in Georgetown to chaw up do 
 hull state in less dan no time." 
 
 " But you have no leaders," I said, " no one to direct 
 the movement. Your race is not a match for the white 
 in generalship, and without generals, whatever your 
 numbers, you would fare hardly." 
 
 To this he replied, an elevated enthusiasm lighting up 
 his face, " De Lord, massa, made generals ob Gideon 
 and David, and de black man know as much 'bout war 
 as dey did ; p'raps," he added, with a quiet humor, 
 " de black aint equal to de white. I knows most ob de 
 great men, like Washington and John and James and 
 Paul, and dem ole fellers war white, but dar war Two 
 Sand (Tousaint L'Overture), de Brack Douglass, and 
 de Nigga Demus (Xicodemus), dey war black." 
 
 The argument was unanswerable, and I said nothing. 
 If the day which sees the rising of the Southern blacks 
 
22 AMONG THE PINES. 
 
 comes to this generation, that negro will be among tlie 
 leaders. He sang to me several of the songs current 
 among the negroes of the district, and though of little 
 poetic value, they interested me, as indicating the feel- 
 ings of the slaves. The blacks are a musical race, and 
 the readiness with which many of them impro^^se words 
 and melody is wonderful ; but I had met none who pos- 
 sessed the readiness of my new acquaintance. Several 
 of the tunes he repeated several times, and each time 
 with a new accompaniment of words. I will try to 
 render the sentunent of a few of these songs into as 
 good negro dialect as I am master of, but I cannot hope 
 to repeat the precise words, or to convey the indescriba- 
 ble humor and pathos which my darky friend threw in- 
 to them, and which made our long, solitary ride through 
 those dreary pine-barrens pass rapidly and pleasantly 
 away. The first referred to an old darky who was 
 transplanted from the cotton-fields of '' ole Virgmny" 
 to the rice-swamps of Carolina, and who did not hke 
 the change, but found consolation in the foct that rice is 
 not grown on " the other side of Jordan." 
 
 " Come listen, all you darkies, come listen to my song, 
 It am about ole Massa, "who use me berr ^n-ong : 
 In de cole, frosty mornin\ it an't so bery nice, 
 ^ "Wld de water to de middle to hoe among de rice ; 
 When I neber hab forgotten 
 How I used to hoe de cotton, 
 How I used to hoe de cotton, 
 On de ole Yirginnv shore ; 
 
ox THE EOAD. 23 
 
 But ni nebcr hoe de cotton, 
 Oh I neber hoe de cotton 
 Any more. 
 
 " If I feel de drefful hunger, he tink it am a vice, 
 And he gib me for my dinner a little broken rice, 
 A little broken rice and a bery little fat — 
 And he grumble like de debil if I eat too much of dat; 
 T\'hen I neber hab forgotten, etc. 
 
 "He tore me from my Dixau; I touglit my heart would burst — 
 He made me lub anoder when my lub was wid de first, 
 He sole my picanninnies becase he got dar price, 
 And shut me in de marsh-field to hoe among de rice; 
 When I neber had forgotten, etc. 
 
 '* And all de da\' I hoe dar, in all de heat and rain, 
 And as I hoe away dar, my heart go back again, 
 Back to de little cabin dat stood among de corti, 
 And to de ole plantation where she and I war born I 
 Oh ! I wish I had forgotten, etc. 
 
 '* Den DiN'Aii am beside me, de chil'ren on my knee, 
 And dough I am a slave dar, it 'pears to me I'm free, 
 Till I wake up from my dreaming, and wife and chil'ren gone, 
 I hoe away and weep dar, and weep dar all alone I 
 Oh ! I wish I had forgotten, etc. 
 
 " But soon a day am coming, a day I long to see, 
 "When dis darky in de cole ground, foreber will be free, 
 When wife and chil'ren wid me, I'll sing in Paradise, 
 How He. de blessed Jesus, hab bought me wid a price ; 
 How de Lord hab not forgotten 
 How well I hoed de cotton, 
 How v,-('!l I hoed de cotton 
 On de ole Virginny shore; 
 
34 AMOXG THE PINES. 
 
 Dar 111 neber hoe de cotton, 
 Oh I neber hoe de cotton 
 Any more." 
 
 The politics of the following are not exactly those of 
 the rulers at Washington, but we all may come to this 
 complexion at last : 
 
 ♦'Hark! darkies, hark! it am de drum 
 Dat calls ole Massa 'way from hum, 
 "Wid powder-pouch and loaded gun, 
 To drive ole Abe from T\^ashington ; 
 
 Ohl Massa's gwine to Washington, 
 
 So clar de way to "Washington — 
 
 Oh I wont dis darky hab sum fun 
 
 When Massa's gwine to Washington ! 
 
 • 
 " Dis darky know what Massa do ; 
 
 He take him long to brack him shoe, 
 
 To brack him shoe and tote him gun. 
 
 When he am 'way to Washington. 
 
 Oh I Massa's gwine to Washington, 
 
 So clar de way to Washincrton, 
 
 Oh! long afore de mornin' sun 
 
 Ole Massa's gwine to Washington I 
 
 " Ole Massa say ole Abe will eat 
 De niggas all excep' de feet — 
 De feet, may be, will cut and run, 
 When Massa gets to Washington, 
 
 When Massa gets to Washington ; 
 
 So clar de way 'to Washington — 
 
 Oh ! wont dis darky cut and run 
 
 When Massa gets to Washington I 
 
ON THE ROAD. 25 
 
 " Dis nigga know ole Abe will save 
 His b rudder man, de darky slave, 
 And dat he'll let him cut and run 
 When Massa gets to "Washington, 
 
 "When Massa gets to "W^ashington; 
 
 So clar de way to "W^ashington, 
 
 Ole Abe will let the darkies run 
 
 "\^''hen Massa gets to "Washington." 
 
 The next is in a similar vein : 
 
 " A storm am brewin' in de Souf, 
 
 A storm am brewin' now, 
 Oh 1 hearken den and shut your mouf, 
 
 And I will tell you how : 
 And I will teU you how, ole boy, 
 
 De storm of fire will pour, 
 And make de darkies dance for joy, 
 
 As dey neber danced before : 
 So shut your mouf as close as death, 
 And all you niggas hole your breafh, 
 
 And I will tell you how. 
 
 '* De darkies at de Norf am ris, 
 
 And dey am comin' down — 
 Am comin' down, I know dey is, 
 
 To do de white folks brown ! 
 Dey'U turn ole Massa out to grass. 
 
 And set de niggas free, 
 And when dat day am come to pass 
 
 "We'll all be dar to see ! 
 So shut your mouf as close as death, 
 And all you niggas hole your breafh, 
 
 And do de white folks brown ! 
 
S6 AMONG THE I'lXES. 
 
 " Den all de Aveek will l)e as gay 
 
 As am de Chris'mas time ; 
 We'll dance all night and all de day, 
 
 And make de banjo chime — 
 And make de banjo chime, I tink, 
 
 And pass de time away, 
 Wid 'nuf to eat and 'nuf to drink, 
 
 And not a bit to pay ! 
 So shut your mouf as close as death, 
 And all you niggas hole your breaf. 
 
 And make de banjo chime. 
 
 " Oh ! make de banjo chime, you nigs, 
 
 And sound de tamborin, 
 And shuffle now de merry jigs, 
 
 For Massa's * gwine in' — 
 For Massa's 'gwine in,' I know. 
 
 And won't he liab de shakes, 
 "When Yankee darkies show him how 
 
 Dey cotch de rattle-snakes !* 
 So shut your mouf as close as death. 
 And all you niggas hole your breaf. 
 
 For Massa's ' gwine in' — 
 For Massa's ' gwine in,' T know. 
 
 And won't he hab de shakes 
 When Yankee darkies show him how 
 
 Dey cotch de rattle-snakes !" 
 
 The reader must not conclude that my darky acquaint- 
 ance is an average specimen of his class. Far from it. 
 Such instances of intelligence are very rare, and are 
 
 * The omblom of South Carolina. 
 
ON THE ROAD. 27 
 
 never found except in the cities. There, constant inter- 
 course with the white renders the bhick shrewd and in- 
 telligent, but on the plantations, the case is difterent. 
 The fact is, that over the whole South the plantation- 
 slave is elevated but a little above the brute. Every ave- 
 nue to knowledge is closed to hun. Ilis age, his origin, 
 his country, his rights, are all unknown. There is his 
 task, and he does it ; there his food, and he eats it ; but 
 of the spirit within him, his destiny, the God who bends 
 the blue sky above him, he knows nothing. An old 
 negress, to whom I once read a few chapters fi-om the 
 Bible, telling her it was God's word, replied : "P'raps, 
 massa, it am God's word to de white folks, but 't aint to 
 de brack. If it war, dey could read it." The physical 
 condition of the slave is not the real evil of the " insti- 
 tution." His moral and intellectual degradation, which 
 is essential to its very existence, constitutes the true 
 argument against it. It feeds the body but starves 
 the soul. It blinds the reason, and shuts the mind 
 to truth. It degrades and brutalizes the whole being, 
 and does it purposely. In that Ues its strength, and 
 in that too, lurks the weakness which will one day 
 topple it down with a crash that will shake the Conti- 
 nent. Let us hope the direful upheaving, which is now 
 felt throughout the Union, is the earthquake that will 
 bury it forever. 
 
 • The sun was wheeling below the trees which skirted 
 the western horizon, when we halted in the main road, 
 abreast of one of those by-paths, which every traveller 
 
28 AMONG THE PINKS. 
 
 at the South recognizes as leadmg to a planter's house. 
 Turning our horse's head, we pursued this path for a 
 short distance, when emerging from tlie pine-forest, over 
 whose sandy barrens we had ridden all the day, a broad 
 plantation lay spread out before us. On one side was 
 a row of perhaps forty small but neat cabins ; and on 
 the other, at the distance of about a third of a mile, a 
 huge building, which, from the piles of timber near it, I 
 saw was a lumber-mill. Before us was a smooth cause- 
 way, extending on for a quarter of a mile, and shaded 
 by large live-oaks and pines, whose moss fell in graceful 
 drapery from the gnarled branches. This led to the 
 mansion of the proprietor, a large, antique structure, ex- 
 hibiting the dingy appearance which all houses near the 
 lowlands of the South derive from the climate, but with 
 a generous, hospitable air about its wide doors and bulky 
 windows, that seemed to invite the traveller to the rest 
 and shelter within. I had stopped my horse, and was 
 absorbed in contemplation of a scene as beautiftil as it 
 was new to me, when an old negro approached, and 
 touching his hat, said : " Massa send his complimens to 
 de gemman, and happy to hab him pass de night at 
 Bucksville." 
 
 "Bucksf27/(3."' I exclaimed, "and where is the village?" 
 " Dis am it, massa ; and it am eight mile and a hard 
 road to de 'Boro" (meaning Conwayboro, a one-horse 
 village at which I had designed to spend the night). 
 "Will de gemman please ride up to de piazza?" con- 
 tinued the old negro. 
 
ON THE ROAD. 
 
 29 
 
 " Yes, uncle, and thank you," and in a moment I had 
 received the cordial welcome of the host, an elderly 
 gentleman, whose easy and polished manners reminded 
 me of the times of our grandfathers in glorious New 
 England. A few minutes put me on a footing of friend- 
 ly familiarity with him and his fiimily, and I soon found 
 myself in a circle of daughters and grandchildren, and 
 as much at home as if I had been a long-expected guest. 
 
30 AMONG THE PINES. 
 
 CHAPTER n. 
 
 WAYSIDE HOSPITALITY. 
 
 Yeaes ago — how many it would not interest the 
 reader to know, and might embarrass me to mention — 
 accompanied by a young woman — a blue-eyed, golden- 
 haired daughter of New-England — I set out on a long 
 journey; a journey so long that it will not end till one 
 or the other of us has laid oil' forever the habiliments 
 of travel. 
 
 One of the first stations on our route was — Paris. 
 While there, strolling out one morning alone, accident 
 directed my steps to the Arc d'Etoile^ that magnificent 
 memorial of the greatness of a great man. Ascending 
 its gloomy staircase to the roof, I seated myself, to en- 
 joy the fine view it aifords of the city and its environs. 
 
 I was shortly joined by Jl lady and gentleman, whose 
 appearance indicated that they were Americans. Some 
 casual remark led us into a conversation, and soon, to 
 our mutual surprise and gratification, we learned that 
 the lady was a dear and long-time friend of my travel- 
 ling-companion. The acquaintance thus begun, has 
 since grown into a close and abiding friendship. 
 
 The reader, with this i^reamble, can readily imagine 
 my pleasure on learning, as we were seated after our 
 evening meal, around that pleasant fireside in far-off 
 
WAYSIDE UOSPITAIJTT. 31 
 
 Carolina, that my Paris acquaintance was a favorite 
 niece, or, as he warmly expressed it, " almost a daugh- 
 ter" of my host. Tliis discovery dispelled any lingering 
 feeling of " strangeness" that had not vanished with the 
 first cordial greeting of my new-found friends, and made 
 me perfectly '^ at home." 
 
 The evening wore rapidly away in a free interchange 
 of "news," opinions, and "small-talk," and I soon gath- 
 ered somewhat of the history of my host. He was born 
 at the North, and his career affords a striking illustra- 
 tion of the marvellous enterprise of our Xorthern char- 
 acter. A native of the State of Maine, he emigrated 
 thence when a young man, and settled down, amid 
 the pine-forest in that sequestered part of Cottondom. 
 Erecting a small saw-mill, and a log shanty to shelter 
 himself and a few " hired" negroes, he attacked, with his 
 OAvn hands, the mighty pines, whose brothers still tower 
 in gloomy magnificence around his dwelling. 
 
 From such beginnings he had risen to be one of the 
 wealthiest land and slave owners of his district, with 
 vessels trading to nearly every quarter of the globe, 
 to the Northern and Eastern ports, Cadiz, the West 
 Indies, South America, and if I remember aright, Cali- 
 fornia. It seemed to me a marvel that this man, alone, 
 and unaided by the usual appliances of commerce, had 
 created a business, rivalling in extent the transactions of 
 many a princely merchant of New York and Boston. 
 
 His " family" of slaves numbered about three hundred, 
 and a more healthy, and to all appearance, happy set of 
 
32 AMONG THE PINES. 
 
 laboring people, I had never seen. Well fed, comforta- 
 bly and almost neatly clad, with tidy and well-ordered 
 homes, exempt from labor in childhood and advanced 
 age, and cared for in sickness by a kind and considerate 
 mistress, who is the physician and good Samaritan of the 
 village, they seemed to share as much physical enjoy- 
 ment as ordinarily falls to the lot of the " hewer of wood 
 and drawer of water." Looking at them, I began to 
 question if Slavery is, in reality, the damnable thing that 
 some untravelled philanthropists have pictured it. If 
 — and in that " i/" my good Abolition friend, is the only 
 unanswerable argument against the institution — if they 
 were taught, if they knew their nature and their destinv, 
 the slaves of such an owner might unprofitably exchange 
 situations with many a white man, who, with nothing 
 in the present or the future, is desperately struggling for 
 a miserable hand-to-mouth existence in our Northern 
 cities. I say " of such an owner," for in the Southern Ar- 
 cadia such masters are " few and far between" — rather 
 fewer and farther between than " spots upon the sun." 
 
 But they are not taught. Public sentiment, as well 
 as State law, prevents the enlightened master, who 
 would fit the slave by knowledge for greater usefulness, 
 from letting a ray of light in upon his darkened mind. 
 The black knows his task, his name, and his dinner-hour. 
 He knows there is a something within him — he does not 
 understand precisely what — that the white man calls his 
 soul, which he is told will not rest in the ground when 
 his body is laid away in the grave, but will — if he is a 
 
WAYSTDE HOSPITALITY. 33 
 
 "good nigger," obeys his master, and does the task 
 allotted him — travel otF to some unknown region, and 
 sing hallelujahs to the Lord, forever. He rather sensi- 
 bly imagines that such everlasting singing may in time 
 produce hoarseness, so he prepares his vocal organs for 
 the long concert by a vigorous discipline while here, and 
 at tlie same time cultivates instrumental music, having 
 a dim idea that the Lord has an ear for melody, and 
 will let him, when he is tired of singing, vary the exer- 
 cise " wid de banjo and de bones." This is all he knows ; 
 and his owner, however well-disposed he may be, cannot 
 teach him more. Xoble, Christian masters whom I have 
 met — have told me that they did not dare instruct their 
 slaves. Some of their negroes were born in their houses, 
 nursed in their families, and have grown up the play- 
 mates of their children, and yet they are forced to see 
 them live and die like the brutes. One need not be ac- 
 cused of fanatical abolitionism if he deems such a sys- 
 tem a little in conflict with the spirit of the nineteenth 
 century ! 
 
 The sun had scarcely turned his back upon the world, 
 when a few drops of rain, sounding on the piazza-roof 
 over our heads, announced a coming storm. Soon it 
 burst upon us in magnificent fury — a real, old-fashioned 
 thunderstorm, such as I used to he awake and listen to 
 when a boy, wondering all the while if the angels were 
 keeping a Fourth of July in heaven. In the midst of it, 
 when the earth and the sky appeared to have met in 
 true Waterloo fashion, and the dark branches of the 
 2* 
 
34 AMONG THE PINES. *" 
 
 pines seemed writhing and tossing in a sea of flame, s 
 loud knock came at the hall-door (bells are not the 
 lashion in Dixie), and a servant soon ushered into the 
 room a middle-aged, unassuming gentleman, whom 
 my host received with a respect and cordiality which 
 indicated that he was no ordinary guest. There was in 
 his appearance and manner that indefinable something 
 which denote* the man of mark ; but my curiosity was 
 soon gratified by an introduction. It was "Colonel" 
 A . This title, I afterward learned, was merely hon- 
 orary : and I may as well remark here, that nearly every 
 one at the South who has risen to the ownership of a 
 negro, is either a captain, a major, or a colonel, or, as 
 my ebony driver expressed it : " Dey 'm all captins and 
 mates, wid none to row de boat but de darkies." On 
 hearing the name, I recognized it as that of one of the 
 oldest and most aristocratic South Carohna families, and 
 the new guest as a near relative to the gentleman who 
 married the beautiful and ill-fated Theodosia Burr. 
 
 In answer to an inquiry of my host, the new-comer 
 explained that he had left Colonel J 's (the planta- 
 tion toward which I was journeying), shortly before 
 noon, and being overtaken by the storm after leaving 
 Conwayboro, had, at the solicitation of his " boys" (a 
 familiar term for slaves), who were afraid to proceed, 
 called to ask shelter for the night. 
 
 Shortly after his entrance, the lady members of the fam- 
 ily retired ; and then the " Colonel," the " Captain," and 
 myself, drawing our chau'S near the fire, and each Hght- 
 
WAYSIDE HOSPITALITY. OO 
 
 iiig a fragrant Havana, placed on the table by our host, 
 fell into a long conversation, of which the -following was 
 a ])nrt : 
 
 ''It must have been urgent business, Colonel, that 
 took you so far into the woods at this season," remarked 
 our host. 
 
 "These are urgent times, Captain B ," replied 
 
 the guest. " All who have any thing at stake, should he 
 doinr/.'''' 
 
 " These are unhappy times, truly," said my friend ; 
 " has any thing new occurred ?" 
 
 " Notliing of moment, sir ; but we are satisfied Bu- 
 chanan is playing us false, and are preparing for the 
 worst." 
 
 " I should be sorry to know that a President of the 
 United States had resorted to underhand measures I 
 Has he really given you pledges ?" 
 
 " He promised to preserve the statu quo in Charles- 
 ton harbor, and we have direct information that he in- 
 tends to send out reinforcements," rejoined Colonel 
 A . 
 
 " Can that be true ? You know, Colonel, I never ad- 
 mired your friend, Mr. Buchanan, but I cannot see 
 how, if he does his dutv, he can avoid enforcing: the 
 laws in Charleston, as well as in the other cities of the 
 Union." 
 
 "• The ' Union,' sir, does not exist. Buchanan has now 
 no more right to quarter a soldier m South Carolina than 
 I have to march an armed force on to Boston Common. 
 
36 AMONG THE PINES. 
 
 If he persists in keeping troops near Charleston, we 
 shall dislodge them." 
 
 " But that would make war ! and war, Colonel," re- 
 plied our host, " would be a terrible thing. Do you re- 
 alize what it would bring upon us ? And Avhat could 
 our little State do in a conflict with nearly thirty mil- 
 lions ?" 
 
 " We should not fight with thirty millions. The 
 other Cotton States are with us, and the leaders in the 
 Border States are pledged to Secession. They will 
 wheel into line when we give the word. But the North 
 will not fight. The Democratic party sympathizes 
 with us, and some of its influential leaders are pledged 
 to our side. They will sow division there, and paralyze 
 the Free States ; besides, the trading and manufacturing 
 classes will never consent to a war that will work their 
 ruin. With the Yankees, sir, the dollar is almighty." 
 
 " That may be true," replied our host ; " but I think 
 if we go too far, they will fight. What think you, Mr. 
 
 K ?" he continued, appealing to me, and adding: 
 
 "This gentleman, Colonel, is very recently from the 
 North." 
 
 Up to that moment, I had avoided taking part in the 
 conversation. Enough had been said to satisfy me that 
 while my host was a staunch Unionist,* his visitor was 
 
 * I very much regret to learn, that since my meeting with this most excellent 
 gentleman, being obnoxious to the Secession leatlers for his well-known Union 
 sentiments, he has been very onerously assessed by them for contributions for 
 carrying on the war. The sum he has been forced to pay, is stated as hiih aa 
 forty thousand dollars, but that may be, and I trust is, an exaggeration. In ad- 
 
WAYSIDE HOSPITALITY. 37 
 
 not only ii rank Secessionist, but one of the leaders of 
 the movement, and even then preparing for desperate 
 measures. Discretion, therefore, counselled silence. 
 To this direct appeal, however, I was forced to reply, 
 and answered : " I think, sir, the North does not yet 
 realize that the South is in earnest. When it wakes up 
 to that fact, its course will be decisive." 
 
 " Will the Yankees fight^ sir ?" rather impatiently 
 and imperiously asked the Colonel, who evidently 
 thouirht I intended to avoid a direct answer to the 
 question. 
 
 Rather nettled by his manner, I quickly responded : 
 " Undoubtedly they will, sir. They have fought before, 
 and it would not be wise to count them cowards." 
 
 A true gentleman, he at once saw that his manner 
 had given offence, and instantly moderating his tone, 
 rather apologetically replied : " Not cowards, sir, but 
 too much absorbed in the ' occupations of peace,' to go 
 to war for an idea." 
 
 "But what you call an 'idea,'" said our host, ^''they 
 may think a great fact on which their existence depends. 
 I can see that we will lose vastly by even a peaceful 
 separation. Tell me, Colonel, what we will gain ?" 
 
 " Gain !" warmly responded the guest. " Every thing ! 
 Security, freedom, room for the development of our in- 
 
 tuition — and this fact is within my own knowledge— five of his vessels have hetn 
 seized in the Northern ports by our Government. This exposure of true Uniun 
 men to a double fire, is one of the most unhappy circumstances attendant upon 
 this most unhappy war. 
 
Ob AMONG THE PINES. 
 
 stitutions, and such progress in wealth as the world has 
 never seen." 
 
 " All that is very fine," rejoined the " Captain," " but 
 where there is wealth, there must be work ; and who 
 will do the work in your new Empire — I do not mean 
 the agricultural labor; you will depend for that, of 
 course, on the blacks — but who will run your manuf ic- 
 tories and do your mechanical labor? The Southern 
 gentleman would feel degraded by such occupation ; and 
 if you put the black to any work requiring intelhgence, 
 you must let him thinJc, and when he thinks, he is 
 freer 
 
 "All that is easily provided for," replied the Secession- 
 ist. " We shall form intimate relations with England. 
 She must have our cotton, and we in return will take 
 her manufactures." 
 
 " That would be all very well at present, and so long as 
 you should keep on good terms with her ; but suppose, 
 some fine morning, Exeter Hall got control of the Eng- 
 lish Government, and hinted to you, in John Bull fash- 
 ion, that cotton produced by free labor would be more 
 acceptable, what could three, or even eight millions, cut 
 olf from the sympathy and support of the Xorth, do in 
 opposition to the power of the British empire ?" 
 
 " Nothing, perhaps, if we were three or even eight 
 millions, but we shall be neither one nor the other. 
 ]\[exico and Cuba are ready, now, to fall into our hands, 
 and before two years have passed, with or without the 
 Border States, we shall count twenty millions. Long 
 
WAYSIDE HOSPITALITY. 39 
 
 before England is abolitionized, our poi)ul:ition will out- 
 number hers, and our territory extend from the Atlantic 
 to the Pacific, and as far south as the Isthmus. We are 
 founding, sir, an empire that will be able to defy all 
 Europe — one grander than the world has seen since the 
 age of Pericles !" 
 
 "You say, with or without the Border States," re- 
 marked our host. " I thought you counted on their 
 support." 
 
 '' We do if the Xorth makes war upon us, but if al- 
 lowed to go m peace, we can do better without them. 
 They will be a wall between us and the abolitionized 
 Xorth." 
 
 "You mistake," I said, "in thinking the Xorth is abo- 
 litionized. The Abolitionists are but a handful there. 
 The great mass of our people are willing the South 
 should have undisturbed control of its domestic concerns." 
 
 " Why, then, do you send such men as Seward, Sum- 
 ner, Wilson, and Grow to Congress ? Why have you 
 elected a President who approves of nigger-stealing ? 
 and why do you tolerate such incendiaries as Greeley, 
 Garrison, and Phillips ?" 
 
 " Seward, and the others you name," I replied, " are 
 not Abolitionists ; neither does Lincoln approve of nig- 
 ger-steaUng. He is an honest man, and I doubt not, 
 when inaugurated, will do exact justice by the South. 
 As to incendiaries, you find them in both sections. 
 Phillips and Garrison are only the opposite poles of 
 Yancey and Wise." 
 
4:0 AMONG THE PINES. 
 
 " Not SO, sir ; they are more. Phillips, Greeley, and 
 Garrison create and control your public opinion. They 
 are mighty powers, while Yancey and Wise have no 
 influence whatever. Yancey is a mere bag-pipe ; we 
 play upon him, and like the music, but smile when he 
 attempts to lead us. Wise is a harlequin ; we let him 
 dance because he is good at it, and it amuses us. Lhi- 
 coln may be honest, but it' made President he will be 
 controlled by Seward, who hates the South. Seward 
 will whine, and wheedle, and attempt to cajole us back, 
 but mark what I say, sir, I know him ; he is physically, 
 morally, and constitutionally a coward, and will never 
 strike a blow for the Union. If hard pressed by public 
 sentiment, he may, to save appearances, bluster a little, 
 and make a show of getting ready for a fight ; but he 
 will find some excuse at the last moment, and avoid 
 coming to blows. For our purposes, we had rather 
 have the Xorth under his control than under that of the 
 old renegade, Buchanan I" 
 
 " All this may be very tj'ue," I repUed, " but perhaps 
 you attach too much weight to what Mr. Seward or 
 Mr. Lincoln may or may not do. You seem to forget 
 that there are twenty intelhgent milhons at the Xorth, 
 who will have sometliing to say on this subject, and 
 who may not consent to be driven into disunion by the 
 South, or wheedled into it by Mr. Seward." 
 
 " I do not forget," replied the Secessionist, " that you 
 have four milUons of brave, able-bodied men, while we 
 have not, perhaps, more than two millions ; but bear in 
 
WAYSroE HOSPITALITY. 41 
 
 mind that you are divided, and therefore weak ; we 
 united, and tlierefore strong !" 
 
 " But," I inquired, " have you two millions without 
 counting your blacks ; and are they not as likely to 
 fight on the wrong as on the right side ?" 
 
 " They will fight on the right side, sir. We can trust 
 them. You have travelled somewhat here. Have you 
 not been struck with the contentment and cheerful sub- 
 jection of the slaves ?" 
 
 " No, sir, I have not been ! On the contrary, their 
 discontent is evident. You are smoking a cigar on a 
 powder-barrel." 
 
 An explosion of derisive laughter from the Colonel 
 followed this remark, and turning to the Captain, he 
 good-humoredly exclaimed : " Hasn't the gentleman 
 used his eyes and ears industriously !" 
 
 " I am afraid he is more than half right," was the re- 
 ply. " If this tiling should go on, I would not trust my 
 own slaves, and I think they are truly attached to me. 
 If the fire once breaks out, the negroes will rush into it, 
 like horses into a burning barn." 
 
 " Think you so !" exclaimed the Colonel in an excited 
 manner. " By Heaven, if I believed it, I would cut the 
 throat of every slave in Christendom ! What," address- 
 ing me, "have you seen or heard, sir, that gives you 
 that opinion ?" 
 
 " Nothing but a sullen discontent and an eagerness 
 for news, which show they feel intense interest in what 
 is going on, and know it concerns them.'''' 
 
4:2 AMONG THE PINES. 
 
 " I haven't remarked that," he said rather musinrrly, 
 *' but it may be so. Does the North beUeve it ? If we 
 came to blows, would they try to excite servile insur- 
 rection among us ?" 
 
 " The North, beyond a doubt, beUeves it," I replied, 
 " yet I think even the Abolitionists would aid you in 
 putting down an insurrection ; but war, in my opinion, 
 would not leave you a slave between the Rio Grande 
 and the Potomac." 
 
 The Colonel at this rose, remarking : " You are 
 mistaken. You are mistaken, sir !" then turning 
 to our host, said : " Captain, it is late : had we not 
 better retire ?" Bidding me " good-night," he was 
 gone. 
 
 Our host soon returned from showing the guest to 
 his apartment, and with a quiet but deliberate manner, 
 
 said to me : " You touched him, Mr. K , on a point 
 
 where he knows Ave are weakest ; but allow me to cau- 
 tion you about expressing your opinions so freely. The 
 Colonel is a gentleman, and what you have said will do 
 no harm, but, long as I have hved here, Zdare not say 
 to many what you have said to him to-night." 
 
 Thanking the worthy gentleman for the caution, I 
 followed him up stairs, and soon lost, in a sweet ob- 
 hvion, all thoughts of Abolitionists, niggers, and the 
 " grand empire." 
 
 I was awakened in the morning by music under my 
 window, and looking out discovered about a dozen dar- 
 kies gathered around my ebony driver, who was claw- 
 
WAYSIDE HOSPITALITY. 43 
 
 iiig away witli all his might at a dilapidated banjo, 
 while his auditory kei)t time to his singiiifr, by striking 
 the hand on the knee, and by other gesticulations too 
 numerous to mention. The songs were not much to 
 boast of, but the music was the genuine, dyed-in-the- 
 wool, darky article. The following was the refrain of 
 one of the songs, which the reader will perceive was an 
 exhortation to early rising : 
 
 " So up, good massa, let's be gwoin', 
 Let's be scratchin' ob de grabble ; 
 For soon de wind may be a blowin', 
 An' we've a sorry road to trabble." 
 
 The storm of the previous night had ceased, but the 
 sky was overcast, and looked as if " soon de wind might 
 be a-blowin'." Prudence counselled an early start, for, 
 doubtless, the runs, or small creeks, had become swollen 
 by the heavy rain, and would be unsafe to cross after 
 dark. Besides, beyond Conwayboro, our route lay for 
 thirty miles through a country without a solitary house 
 where we could get decent shelter, were we overtaken 
 by a storm. 
 
 Hurriedly performing my toilet, I descended to the 
 drawing-room, where I found the family assembled. 
 After the usual morning salutations were exchanged, a 
 signal from the mistress caused the sounding of a bell 
 in the hall, and some ten or twelve men and women 
 house-servants, of remarkably neat and tidy appearance, 
 among whom was my darky driver, entered the apart- 
 
44 AMONG THE PINES. 
 
 inent. Tliey took a stand at the remote end of the 
 room, and our host, opening a large, well-worn family 
 Bible, read the fifty-fourth chapter of Isaiah. Then, 
 all kneeling, he made a short extemporaneous petition, 
 closing with the Lord's Prayer ; all present, black as 
 well as white, joining in it. Then Heber's beautiful 
 hymn, " From Greenland's icy mountains," was sung ; 
 the negroes, to my ear, making much better music 
 than the whites. 
 
 The services over, we adjourned to the dining-room, 
 and after we were seated, the " Colonel" remarked to 
 me : " Did you notice how finely that negro ' boy' (he 
 was fully forty years old) sung ?" 
 
 " Yes," I replied, " I did. Do you know him, sir ?" 
 
 " Oh ! yes, very well. His mistress wishes to sell 
 him, but finds difficulty in doing so. Though a likely 
 negro, people will not buy him. He's too smart." 
 
 " That strikes me as a singular objection," I remarked. 
 
 " Oh ! no, not at all ! These knowiivj niggers fre- 
 quently make a world of trouble on a plantation." 
 
 It was after ten o'clock before we were ready to 
 start. The mills, the negro-quarters, and various other 
 parts of the plantation, and then several vessels moored 
 at the wharf, had to be seen before I could get away. 
 Finally, I bid my excellent host and his family forewell, 
 and with nearly as much regret as I ever felt at leaving 
 my own home. I had experienced the much-heard-of 
 Southern hospitality, and had found the report far be- 
 loAv the reality. 
 
WAYSIDE HOSPITALITY. 46 
 
 The other gnest had taken his leave some time before, 
 but not till he had given me a cordial invitation to re- 
 turn by the way I came, and spend a day or two with 
 him, at his plantation on the river, some twenty miles 
 below. 
 
 The sky w^as lowery, and the sandy road heavy with 
 the recent rain, when we started. The gloomy wx'ather 
 seemed to have mfected the driver as well as myself. 
 He had lost the mirthliilness and loquacity of the pre- 
 vious day, and we rode on for a full hour in silence. 
 Tiring at last of my own thoughts, I said to him: 
 "Scip, what is the matter with you? what makes 
 you so gloomy ?" 
 
 " Kuffin, massa ; I war only tinkin','' he abstractedly 
 replied. 
 
 " And what are you thinking about ?" 
 
 " Vs wond'rin', massa, if de Lord mean de darkies in 
 dose words of His dat Massa B read dis mornin'." 
 
 " What words do you mean ? 
 
 " Dese, massa : ' O dou 'fflicted ! tossed wid de tem- 
 pest, and habin no comfort, behold, I will make you hous'n 
 ob de fair colors, and lay dar foundations w4d safo- 
 mires. All dy chil'ren shill be taught ob de Lord, and 
 great shill be dar peace. In de right shill dey be 'stab- 
 Ushed ; dey shill hab no fear, no terror ; it shan't come 
 nijzh 'em, and who come against dem shill fall. Behold ! 
 I hab make de blacksmid dat blow de coals, and make 
 de w^eapons ; and I hab make de waster dat shill destroy 
 de oppressors.' " 
 
46 AMONG THE PINES. 
 
 If he had repeated one of Webster's orations I could 
 not have been more astonished. I did not remember 
 the exact words of the passage, but I knew he had 
 caught its spirit. Was tliis his recollection of the read- 
 ing heard in the morning ? or had he previously com- 
 mitted it to memory ? These questions I asked my- 
 self; but, restraining my curiosity, I answered: "Un- 
 doubtedly they are meant for both the black and the 
 white." 
 
 " Do dey mean, massa, dat we shall be like de wite 
 folks — wid our own hous'n, our chil'ren taught in de 
 schools, and wid weapons to strike back when dey 
 strike us ?" 
 
 " Ko, Scipio, they don't mean that. They refer prin- 
 cipally to spiritual matters. They were a promise to all 
 the icorld that when the Satiour came, all, even the 
 greatly oppressed and afflicted, should hear the great 
 truths of the Bible about God, Redemption, and the 
 
 FUTUKE." 
 
 " But de Sayioue hab come, massa ; and dose tings 
 an't taught to.de black chil'ren. We hab no j^eace, no 
 rights ; nuffin buf fear, 'pression, and terror." 
 
 "That is true, Scipio. The Loed takes His own 
 time, but His time will surely come." 
 
 " De Loed bless you^ massa, for saying dat ; and de 
 Loed bless you for telling dat big Cunnel, dat if dey 
 gwo to war de black man will be Feee !" 
 
 " Did you hear what we said ?" I inquired, greatly 
 surprised, for I remembered remarking, during the in- 
 
WAYSIDE HOSPITALITY. 47- 
 
 terview of tlie previous evening, that our host carefully 
 kept the doors closed. 
 
 " Ebery word, massa." 
 
 " But how could you hear ? The doors and windows 
 were shut. Where were you ?" 
 
 " On de piazzer ; and when I seed fru de winder dat 
 de ladies war gwine, I know'd you'd talk 'bout politics 
 and de darkies — gemmen allers do. So I opened de 
 winder bery softly — you didn't har 'cause it rained and 
 blowed bery hard, and made a mighty noise. Den I 
 stuffed my coat in de crack, so de wind could'nt blow in 
 and lef you know I was dar, but I lef a hole big 'nough 
 to har. My ear froze to dat hole, massa, bery tight, I 
 'shore you." 
 
 " But you must have got very wet and very cold." 
 
 " Wet, massa ! wetter dan a 'gator dat's been in de 
 riber all de week, but I didn't keer for de rain or de 
 cold. What I hard made me warm all de way fru." 
 
 To my mind there was a rough picture of true hero- 
 ism in that poor darky standing for hours in his shirt- 
 sleeves, in the cold, stormy night, the lightning playing 
 about him, and the rain drenching him to the skin — 
 that he might hear something he thought would benefit 
 his down-trodden race. 
 
 I noticed his clothing though bearing evident marks 
 of a drenching, was then dry, and I inquired : " How 
 did you dry your clothes ?" 
 
 " I staid wid some ob de cuUud folks, and arter you 
 went up stars, I went to dar cabin, and dey gabe me 
 
48 AMONG THE PINES. 
 
 some dry does. We made up a big fire, and hung 
 mine up to dry, and de ole man and woman and me sot 
 up all night and talked ober what you and de oder gem- 
 men said." 
 
 " Will not those folks tell what you did, and thus get 
 you into trouble ?" 
 
 " TeU ! Lord bless you, massa, de blacks am all free- 
 masons y dat ar ole man and woman wud die 'fore dey'd 
 teU." 
 
 "But are not Captain B 's negroes contented?" 
 
 I asked ; " they seem to be well treated." 
 
 " Oh ! yes, dey am. All de black folks 'bout bar want 
 de Captin to buy 'em. He bery nice man — one ob de 
 Lord's own people. He better man dan David, 'cause 
 David did wrong, and I don't b'lieve de Captin eber did." 
 " I should think he was a very good man," I replied. 
 " Bery good man, massa, but de white folks don't 
 like him, 'cause dey say he treats him darkies so well, 
 aU dairn am uncontented." 
 
 " Tell me, Scipio," I resumed after a while, " how it 
 is you can repeat that passage from Isaiah so well ?" 
 
 " Why, bless you, massa, I know Aziar and Job and 
 de Psalms 'most all by heart. Good many years ago, 
 when I lib'd in Charles'on, the gub'ness learned me to 
 read, and I hab read dat Book fru good many times." 
 " Have you read any others ?" I asked. 
 " None but dat and Doctor Watts. I hab dem, but 
 wite folks wont sell books to de blacks, and I wont 
 steal 'em. I read de papers sometimes." 
 
WAYSIDE HOSPITALITY. 49 
 
 I opened my portmanteau, that lay on the floor of the 
 wagon, and handed him a copy of "Whittier's poems. It 
 happened to be the only book, excepting the Bible, 
 that I had with me. 
 
 *■' Read that, Scipio," I said. *' It is a book of poetry, 
 but written by a good man at the Xorth, who greatly 
 pities the slave." 
 
 He took the book, and the big tears rolled down his 
 cheeks, as he said : " Tank you, niassa, tank you. Xo- 
 body war neber so good to me afore." 
 
 During our conversation, the sky, which had looked 
 threatening all the morning, began to let fall the big 
 di'ops of rain ; and before we reached Conwayboro, it 
 poured down much after the fashion of the pre\dous 
 night. It being cruelty to both man and beast to re- 
 main out in such a deluge, we pulled up at the village 
 hotel (kept, like the one at Georgetown, by a lady), 
 and detennined to remain overnight, unless the rain 
 should abate in time to allow us to reach our destmation 
 before dark. 
 
 Dinner being ready soon after our arrival (the people 
 of Conwayboro, like the "common folks" that Davy 
 Crockett told about, dine at twelve), I sat down to it, 
 first hanging my outer garments, which were somewhat 
 wet, before the fire in the sitting-room. The house 
 seemed to be a sort of public boarding-house, as well as 
 hotel, for quite a number of persons, evidently town's- 
 people were at the dinner-table. My appearance attract- 
 ed some attention, though not more, I thought, than 
 3 
 
50 AMONG THE PINES. 
 
 would be naturally excited in so quiet a place by the 
 arrival of a stranger ; but " as nobody said nothing to 
 me, I said nothing to nobody." 
 
 Dinner over, I adjourned to the " sitting-room," and 
 seating myself by the fire, watched the drying of my 
 ''outer habiliments." While thus engaged, the door 
 opened, and three men — whom I should have taken for 
 South Carolina gentlemen, had not a further acquaint- 
 ance convinced me to the contrary — entered the room. 
 Walking directly up to Avhere I was sitting, the fore- 
 most one accosted me something after this manner : 
 
 "I see you are from the North, sir." 
 
 Taken a little aback by the abruptness of the "salute," 
 but guessing his object, I answered : " No, sir ; I am 
 from the South." 
 
 " From what part of the South ?" 
 
 "I left Georgetown yesterday, and Charleston two 
 days before that," I replied, endeavoring to seem entirely 
 oblivious to his meaning. 
 
 " We don't want to know whar you war yesterday ; 
 we want to know whar you heloncj^'' he said, with a lit- 
 tle impatience. 
 
 " Oh ! that's it. Well, sir, I belong here just at pres- 
 ent, or rather I shall, when I have paid the landlady for 
 my dinner." 
 
 Annoyed by my coolness, and getting somewhat ex- 
 cited, he repUed quickly : " You mustn't trifle with us, 
 sir. AYe know you. You're from the North. We've 
 seen it on your vaUse, and we can't allow a man who 
 
WAYSIDE HOSPITALITY. 51 
 
 carries the New York Independetit to travel in South 
 Carolina." 
 
 The scoundrels had either broken into my portman- 
 teau, or else a copy of that paper had dropped from it 
 on to the floor of the wagon when I gave the book to 
 Scipio. At any rate, they had seen it, and it was evident 
 " Brother Beecher" was getting me into a scrape. I 
 felt indignant at the impudence of the felloAv, but de- 
 termined to keep cool, and, a little sarcastically, repUed 
 to the latter part of his remark : 
 
 "That's a pity, sir. South Carolina will lose by it." 
 
 "This game wont work, sir. We don't want such 
 people as you har, and the sooner you make tracks the 
 better." 
 
 " I intend to leave, sir, as soon as the rain is over, and 
 shall travel thirty miles on your sandy roads to-day, if 
 you don't coax me to stay here by your hospitality," I 
 quietly replied. 
 
 The last remark was just the one drop needed to make 
 his wrath "bile over," and he savagely exclaimed : " I tell 
 you, sir, we will not be trifled with. You must be otF 
 to GeorgetOAvn at once. You can have just half an hour 
 to leave the Boro', not a second more." 
 
 His tone and manner aroused what little combative- 
 ness there is in me. Rising from my chair, and taking 
 up my outside-coat, in which was one of Colt's six- 
 shooters, I said to him: " Sir, I am here, a peaceable man, 
 on peaceable, private business. I have started to go up 
 the country, and go there I shall ; and I shall leave this 
 
02 AMONG THE PINES. 
 
 place at my convenience — not before. I have endured 
 your impertinence long enough, and shall have no more 
 of it. If you attempt to interfere with my movements, 
 you will do so at your peril." 
 
 j\Iy blood was up, and I was fast losing that better 
 part of valor called discretion ; and he evidently under- 
 stood my movement, and did not dislike the turn affairs 
 were taking. There is no telling what might have fol- 
 lowed had not Scip just at that instant inserted his 
 woolly head between us, excitedly exclaimmg : " Lord 
 
 bless you, Massa B 11 ; what am you 'bout ? Why, 
 
 dis gemman am a 'ticlar friend of Cunnel A . Ile'm 
 
 a regular sesherner. He hates de ablisherncrs worser 
 dan de debble. I hard hun swar a clar, blue streak 
 'bout dem only yesterday." 
 
 " Massa B ^11" was evidently taken aback by the 
 
 announcement of the negro, but did not seem inclined 
 to " give it up so" at once, for he asked : " How do you 
 know he's the Colonel's friend, Scip ? Who told you 
 so?" 
 
 " Who told me so ?" exclaimed the excited negro, 
 
 " why, didn't he stay at Captin B 's, wid de Cunnel, 
 
 all night last night ; and didn't dey set up dar doin' 
 politic business togedder till arter midnight? Didn't 
 de Cunnel come dar in all de storm 'pressly to see dis 
 gemman ?" 
 
 The ready wit and rude eloquence of the darky amused 
 me, and the idea of the " Cunnel" traveUing twenty miles 
 through the terrible storm of the previous night to meet 
 
WAYSIDE HOSPITALITY. 53 
 
 a man who had the New York Independent about him, 
 was so perfectly hulitTous, that I could not restrain my 
 laughter. That laugh did the business for "Massa 
 
 B 11." What the negro had said staggered, but 
 
 did not convince him ; but my returning good-humor 
 brought him completely round. Extending his hand to 
 me, he said : " I see, sir, I've woke up the wrong pas- 
 senger. Hope you'll take -no offence. In these times we 
 need to know who come among us." 
 
 " Xo offence whatever, sir," I replied. " It is easy to 
 be mistaken ; but." I added smilingly, " I hope, for the 
 sjike of the next traveller, you'll be less precipitate an- 
 other time." 
 
 " I am rather hasty ; that's a fact," he said. " But 
 no harm is done. So let's take a drink, and say no more 
 about it. The old lady har keeps nary a thing, but we 
 can get the raal stuff close by." 
 
 Though not a member of a " Total Abstinence So- 
 ciety," I have always avoided indulging in the quality 
 of fluid that is the staple beverage at the South. I there- 
 fore hesitated a moment before accepting the gentle- 
 man's invitation ; but the alternative seemed to be 
 squarely presented, pistols or drinks ; cold lead or poor 
 whiskey, and — I am ashamed to confess it — I took the 
 whiskey. 
 
 Returning to the hotel, I found Scip awaiting me. 
 "Massa," he said, " we better be gwine. Dat dar sesh- 
 erner am ugly as de bery ole debble ; and soon as he 
 
54 AMONG THE PINES. . . 
 
 knows I cum de possum ober him 'bout de Gunnel, he'll 
 be down on you shore.'''' 
 
 The rain had dwindled to a drizzle, which the sun was 
 vigorously struggling to get through with a tolerable 
 prospect of success, and I concluded to take the African's 
 advice. Wrapping myself in an India-rubber overcoat, 
 and giving the darky a blanket of the same material, I 
 started. 
 
CROSSING THK ''RUNS.' 56 
 
 CHAPTER m. 
 
 CROSSING THE "RUXS." 
 
 The long, tumble-down bridge which spans the Wac- 
 camaw at Conwayboro, trembled beneath our horse's 
 tread, as with lengthened stride he shook the secession 
 mud from his feet, and whirled us along into the dark, 
 deep forest. It may have been the exhilaration of a 
 hearty dinner of oats, or it may have been sympathy 
 with the impatience of his fellow-travellers that spurred 
 him on ; whichever it was, away he went as if Lucifer — 
 that first Secessionist — were following close at his heels. 
 
 The sun, which for a time had been industriously 
 wedging his way into the dark masses of cloud, finally 
 slunk out of sight and left us enveloped in a thick fog, 
 which shut from view all of Cottondom, except a nar- 
 row belting of rough pines, and a few rods of sandy 
 road that stretched out in dim perspective before us. 
 There being nothing in the outside creation to attract 
 my attention, I drew the apron of the carriage about 
 me, and settling myself well back on the seat to avoid 
 the thick-falling mist, fell into a train of dreamy reflec- 
 tion. 
 
 Niggers, slave-auctions, cotton-fields, rice-swamps, and 
 King Cotton himself, that blustering old despot, with 
 his swarthy arms and " under-pinning," his fiice of brass, 
 
66 AMONG THE FIXES. 
 
 and body of *' raw material," passed through my mind, 
 like Georgia trains through the Oconee Swamp, till 
 finally my darky friend came into view. He seemed at 
 first a little child, amid the blazing ruins of his wilder- 
 ness home, gazing in stupid horror on the burning bod- 
 ies of his father and his kindred. Then he was kneel- 
 ing at the side of his dying mother in the slave-pen at 
 Cape Lopez, and — still a child — cooped in the " Black- 
 hole" of the accursed slave-ship, his little frame burn- 
 ing with the fever-fire, and his child-heart longing for 
 death. Then he seemed mounting the Cuban slave- 
 block, and as the "going ! going! gone !" rung in my 
 ear, he was hurried away, and driven to the cruel task — 
 still a child — on the hot, unhealthy sugar-field. Again 
 he appeared, stealing away at night to a lonely hut, and 
 by the light of a pine-knot, wearily poring over the 
 Book of Books, slowly putting letters into words, and 
 words into sentences, that he might know " What God 
 says to the black man.'''' Then he seemed a man — splen- 
 did of frame, noble of soul — suspended in the whipping- 
 rack, his arms bound above his head, his body resting 
 on the tips of his toes, and the merciless lash foiling on 
 his bare back, till the red stream ran from it hke a river 
 — scourged because he would not aid in creating beings 
 as wretched as himself, and make merchandise of his 
 own blood to gorge the pocket of an incarnate white 
 devil. 
 
 As these things passed before me, and I thought of 
 his rare intelligence, of his fine traits of character, and 
 
CROSSING THE " RUNS." 57 
 
 of the true lieroisiu he had shown iu risking, perhaps, 
 his own Hfe to get me — a stranger — out of an ugly \u>h- 
 ble, I felt a certain spot in my left side warming toward 
 him, very much as it might have done had his blood 
 been as pure as my own. It seemed to me a pity — anti- 
 Abolitionist and Southern-sympathizer though I was — 
 that a man of such rare natural talent, such character 
 and energy, should have his large nature dwarfed, be 
 tethered for life to a cotton-stalk, and made to wear his 
 soul out in a tread-mill, merely because his skin had a 
 darker tinge and his shoe a longer heel than mine. 
 
 As I mused over his " strange, eventful history," and 
 thought of the handy way nature has of putting the 
 right man in the icrong place, it occurred to me how 
 " Brother Beecher" one evening, not a long time before, 
 had charmed the last dollar from my waistcoat pocket 
 by exhibiting, d la Barnura, a remarkably ugly " cullud 
 pusson" on his pulpit stairs, and by picturing the awful 
 doom which awaited her — that of being reduced from 
 baby-tending to some less useful employment — if his 
 audience did not at once "do the needful." Then it 
 occurred to me how much finer a spectacle my ebony 
 friend would make ; how well his six feet of manly sinew 
 would grace those pulpit stairs ; how eloquently the rev- 
 erend gentleman might expatiate on the burning sin of 
 shroudinor the lidit of such an intellect in the mists of 
 niggerdom, only to see it snuffed out in darkness ; how 
 he might enlarge on what the black could do in ele- 
 vating his race, either as " cullud" assistant to " Brother 
 3* 
 
^S AMONG THE PINES. 
 
 Pease" at the Five-Points, or as co-laborer with Fred 
 Douglass at abolition conventions, or, if that dicV nt pa^, 
 how, put into the minstrel business, he might run the 
 white " troupes" off the track, and yield a liberal reve- 
 nue to the " Cause of Freedom." As I thought of the 
 probable effect of this last aj^peal, it seemed that the 
 thing was already done, and that Scip was Free. 
 
 I got back from dreamland by the simple act of 
 opening my eyes, and found myself still riding along in 
 that Jersey wagon, over that heavy, sandy road, and 
 drenched with the mists of that dreary December day. 
 The reverie made, however, a deep impression on me, 
 and I gave vent to it somewhat as follows : 
 
 " Colonel A tells me, Scip, that your mistress 
 
 wants to sell you. Do you know what she asks ?" 
 
 "She ax fifteen hundred dollar, massa, but I an't 
 worth dat now. Nigger property's mighty low." 
 " What is your value now ?" 
 
 "P'raps eight hundred, p'raps a thousand dollar, 
 massa." 
 
 " Would your mistress take a thousand for you ?" 
 " Don't know, sar, but reckon she w^ould. She'd be 
 glad to get shut of me. She don't like me on de plan- 
 tation, 'cause she say de oder darkies tink too much ob 
 me ; and she don't like me in de city, 'cause she 'fraid I 
 run away." 
 
 "Why afraid you'll run away ? Did you ever try to ?" 
 "Try to! LoR bless you,, massa, I neber taught ob 
 such a ting — wouldn't gwo ef I could." 
 
CROSSING THE "RUNS." 69 
 
 " But wouMu't you ?" I asked, thinking he had con- 
 scientious scruples about running away ; " wouldn't you 
 if you could buy yourself, and go honestly, as a free 
 man ?" 
 
 "Buy myself, sar!" he exclaimed in surprise; "buy 
 my own flesh and blood dat de Lord hissef gabe me 1 
 No, no ! massa ; I'd likes to be free, but I'd neber do 
 datr 
 
 "Why not do that ?" I asked. 
 
 " 'Cause 't would be owning dat de white folks hab a 
 right to de black; and 'cause, sar, if I war free I couldn't 
 stay har." 
 
 " Why should you stay here ? You have no wife nor 
 child ; why not go where the black man is respected and 
 useful ?" 
 
 " I'se 'spected and useful har, massa. I hab no wife 
 nor child, and dat make me feel, I s'pose, like as ef all 
 de black people war my chil'ren." 
 
 " But they are not your children ; and you can be of 
 no service to them. At the Xorth you might learn, and 
 put your talents to some use." 
 
 " Sar," he replied, a singular enthusiasm lighting up 
 his face, " de Lord, dat make me what I ar, put me har, 
 and I must stay. Sometimes when tings look bery 
 black, and I feel a'most 'scouraged, I goes to Hnr, and 
 I say, ' Lord, I's ob no use, take me 'way ; let me get fru 
 wid dis ; let me no more see de suffrin' and 'pression ob 
 de pore cullud race ;' den He say to me, just so plain as 
 I say it to you, ' Keep up good courage, Scipio, de time 
 
60 AMONG THE PINES. 
 
 will come ;'* and now, bless de Lop.d, de time am 
 
 commcr 
 
 P' 
 
 " lT7iat time is coming, Scipio ?" 
 
 He gave me a quick, suspicious glance, but his face in 
 a moment resumed its usual expression, as he replied : 
 " I'se sure, massa, dat I could trust you. I feel you am 
 my friend, but I can't say no more." 
 
 " You need not, Scip — I can guess. What you have 
 said is safe with me. But let me counsel you — wait 
 for the white man. Do not let your freedom come in 
 blood !" 
 
 "It will come, massa, as de Lord will. When He war 
 freed de earth shooJc^ and de vail oh de temple war rent 
 in twain ! " 
 
 We said no more, but rode on in silence ; the darky 
 absorbed in his own reflections, I musing over the black 
 volcano, whose muffled echoes I then heard " away down 
 South in Dixie." 
 
 We had ridden on for about an hour, when an open- 
 ing in the trees disclosed a by-path, leading to a planta- 
 tion. Following it for a short distance, we came upon a 
 small clearing, in the midst of which, flanked by a rag- 
 ged corn and potato patch, squatted a dilapidated, 
 unpainted wooden building, a sort of " half-way house" 
 
 * The Southern blacks, like all ignorant people, are intensely fanatical on relig- 
 ious subjects. The most trifling occurrences have to their minds a hidden sis- 
 nificance, and they believe the Lord speaks to them in signs and dreams, and iu 
 almost every event of nature. This superstition, which has been handed down 
 from their savage ancestry, has absfdute, sway over them, and one readily sees 
 ■what immense power it would give to some leadinar, adroit mind, that know how 
 to use it By means of it they might be led to the most desperate deeds, fnlly 
 believing all the while that they were " led ob de Loed.'' 
 
CROSSING THE ''RUNS. () ! 
 
 between a hut and a shanty. In its door-way, seated on 
 a chair which wanted one leg and a back, was a suit of 
 Hnsey-woolsey, adorned by enormous metal buttons, and 
 surmounted by a queer-looking headpiece that might 
 have passed for either a hat or an umbrella. I was at a 
 loss to determine whether the object were a human being 
 or a scarecrow, when, at the sound of our approach, the 
 umbrella-like article lifted, and a pair of sunken eyes, 
 a nose, and an enormous beard, disclosed themselves. 
 x\ddressing myself to the singular figure, I inquired how 
 fiir we were from our destination, and the most direct 
 route to it. 
 
 " Wal, stranger," was the reply, " it's a right smart 
 twenty mile to the Gunnel's, but I reckon ye'll get thar, 
 if ye follow yer critter's nose, and ar good at swim- 
 ming." 
 
 " Why good at swimming ?" I inquired. 
 
 " 'Cause the ' runs' have ris, and ar considerable deep 
 by this time." 
 
 " That's comforting news." 
 
 " Yas, to a man as seems in a hurry," he replied, look- 
 ing at my horse, which was covered with foam. 
 
 " How far is it to the nearest run ?" I asked. 
 
 " Wal, it mought be six mile ; it mought be seven, 
 but you've one or two all-fired ones to cross arter that." 
 
 Here was a pleasant predicament. It was nearly five 
 o'clock, and our horse, though a noble animal, could not 
 make the distance on an unobstructed route, in the then 
 heavy state of the roads, in less than three hours. Long 
 
62 AMONG THE PINES. 
 
 before that time it would be dark, and no doubt stormy, 
 for the sky, which had lowered all the afternoon, every 
 now and then uttered an ominous growl, and seemed 
 ready to fall down upon us. But turning back was 
 out of the question, so, thanking the " native," I was 
 about to proceed, when he hailed me as follows : 
 "I say, stranger, what's the talk in the city ?" 
 " Nothing, sir," I replied, " but fight and Secession." 
 " D — n Secession !" was the decidedly energetic 
 answer. 
 
 "Why so, my friend? That doctrine seems to be 
 popular hereabouts." 
 
 " Yas, pop'lar with them South Car'lina chaps. They'd 
 be oneasy in heaven if Gabriel was cook, and the Lord 
 head-waiter." 
 
 " They must be hard to suit," I said ; " I ' kalkerlate' 
 you're not a South Carolinian." 
 
 " Xo, sir-ee I not by several mile. My mother moved 
 over the line to born me a decent individual." 
 
 " But why are you for the Union, when your neigh- 
 bors go the other way ?" 
 
 " 'Cause it's allers carried us 'long as slick as a cart 
 with new-greased Avheels ; and 'cause, stranger, my 
 grand'ther was one of Marion's boys, and spilt a lettle 
 claret at Yewtaw for the old consarn, and I reckon he'd 
 be oneasy in his grave if I turned my back on it now." 
 " But, my friend," I said, " they say Lincohi is an 
 Abolitionist, and if inaugurated, he will free every darky 
 vou've scot." 
 
CROSSING THE " RUNS." 63 
 
 " He can't do that, stranger, 'cordin' to the Constetu- 
 tion, and grand'ther used to say that ar dokermunt 
 would hold the d — 1 hnnself; but, for my part, I'd like 
 to see the niggers free." 
 
 " See the niggers free !" I replied in undisguised as- 
 tonishment ; '* why, my good sir, that is rank treason and 
 abolition." 
 
 " Call it what yer a mind to, them's my sentiments ; 
 but I say, stranger, if thar's ony thing on airth that I 
 uttarly dispise it ar a Xorthern dough-face, and it's clar 
 yer one on 'em." 
 
 " There, my friend, you're mistaken. I'm neither an 
 Abolitionist nor a dough-face. But v:hy do you go for 
 freeing the niggers ?" 
 
 " 'Cause the white folks would be better off. You see, 
 I have to feed and clothe my niggers, and pay a hundred 
 and twenty and a hundred and fifty a year for 'em, and 
 if the niggers Avar free, they'd work for 'bout half 
 that." 
 
 Continuing the conversation, I learned that the um- 
 brella-hatted gentleman worked twenty hired negroes 
 in the gathering of turpentine ; and that the district we 
 were entering was occupied by persons in the same pur- 
 suit, who nearly all employed " hired hands," and enter- 
 tained similar sentiments ; Colonel J , whom I was 
 
 about to visit, and who was a large slave-o?r;^er, being 
 about the only exception. This, the reader will please 
 remember, was the state of things at the date of which 
 I am writing, in the very hpart of Secessiondom. 
 
64 AMONG THE PINES. 
 
 Bidding the turpentine-getter a rather reluctant 
 " good-by," I rode on into the rain. 
 
 It was nearly dark when we reached the first " run," 
 but, fortunately, it was less swollen than our way-side 
 acquaintance had represented, and we succeeded in 
 crossing without difficulty. Hoping that the others 
 might be equally as fordable, we pushed rapidly on, 
 the darkness meanwhile gathering thickly about us, and 
 the rain continuing to fall. Our way lay through an 
 unbroken forest, and as the wind swept fiercely through 
 it, the tall dark pines which towered on either side, 
 moaned and sighed like a legion of unhappy spirits let 
 loose from the dark abodes below. Occasionally we 
 came upon a patch of woods where the turpentine- 
 gatherer had been at work, and the white faces of the 
 " tapped" trees, gleaming through the darkness, seemed 
 an arnfy of " sheeted ghosts" closing steadily around us. 
 The darkness, the rain, and the hideous noises in the 
 forest, called up unpleasant associations, and I inwardly 
 determined to ask hospitality from the first human being, 
 black or white, whom we should meet. 
 
 We had ridden on for about an hour after dark, when 
 suddenly our horse's feet plashed in the water, and he 
 sank to his middle in a stream. My first thought was 
 that we were in the second " run," but as he pushed 
 slowly on, the water momentarily growing deeper, and 
 spreading on either side as far as we could see, it flashed 
 upon me that we had missed the road, in the darkness, 
 and were fairly launched into the Waccamaw riyer! 
 
CEOSSING THE " RUNS." 65 
 
 Turning to the darky, who was then driving, I said 
 quickly : 
 
 " Scip, stop the horse. Where are we ?" 
 
 *' Don't know, massa ; reckon we'se in de riber." 
 
 " A comfortable situation this. We can't turn round. 
 The horse can't swim such a stream in harness. What 
 shall we do ?" 
 
 " Can you swim, massa ?" he quietly asked. 
 
 "Yes, like an eel." 
 
 " Wal, den, we'd better gwo on. De hoss '11 swim. 
 But, massa, you might take off your boots and over- 
 coat, and be ready for a spring ef he gwo down." 
 
 I did as he directed, while be let down the apron and 
 top of the wagon, and fastened the reins loosely to the 
 dash-board, saying as he did so, " You must allers gib a 
 hoss his head when he swim, massa ; if you rein him, he 
 gwo down, shore." Then, imdoing a portion of the 
 harness, to give the horse the free use of his legs, he 
 shouted, " Gee up, ole Gray," and we started. 
 
 The noble animal stepped off slowly and cautiously, 
 as if fully aware of the danger of the passage, but had 
 l^roceeded only about fifty yards when he lost his foot- 
 ing, and plunged us into an entirely new and decidedly 
 cold hip-bath. " Now's de time, ole Gray," " show your 
 broughten up, ole boy," " let de gemman see you swim, 
 ole feller," and similar remarks proceeded rapidly from 
 the darky, who all the time avoided touching the reins. 
 
 It may have been one minute, it may have been five 
 minutes — I took " no note of time^ — before the horse 
 
66 
 
 AMONG THE PINES. 
 
 again struck bottom, and halted from sheer exhaustion, 
 the water still almost level with his back, and the oppo- 
 site bank too far-off to be seen throucrh the darkness. 
 After a short rest, he again "breasted the waters," and 
 in a few moments landed us on the shore ; not, unfor- 
 tunately, in the road, but in the midst of the pine-trees, 
 there so entangled with under-growth, that not even a 
 man, much less a horse, could make his way through 
 them. Wet to the skin, and shivering with the cold, 
 we had no time to lose " in gittin' out of dat," if we 
 would avoid greater dangers than those we had escaped. 
 So, springing from the wagon, the darky waded up the 
 stream, near its bank, to reconnoitre. Returning in a 
 few minutes, he reported that we were about a hundred 
 yards below the road. We had been carried that far 
 down stream by the strength of the current. Our only 
 course was to follow the " run" up along its bank ; this 
 we did, and in a short time had the satisfaction of strik- 
 ing the high road. Arranging the harness, we were 
 soon under way again, the horse bounding along as if 
 he felt the necessity of vigorous exercise to restore his 
 chilled circulation. We afterward learned that it was 
 not the Waccamaw we had crossed, but the second 
 *' run" our native friend had told us of, and that the 
 water in the middle of its stream was fifteen feet deep ! 
 Half-dead with cold and wet, we hurried on, but still 
 no welcome light beckoned us to a human habitation. 
 The darkness grew denser till we could not even distin- 
 guish the road, much less our horse's nose, which we had 
 
CROSSING THE '^RDNs/' 67 
 
 been directed to follow. Inwardly cnrsinf^ the folly 
 which brought me into such a wilderness, I said to the 
 darky : 
 
 " Scip, Fni sorry I took you on such a trip as this." 
 
 " Oh ! neber mind me, massa ; I ruther like de dark 
 night and de storm." 
 
 " Like the night and the storm ! why so ?" 
 
 " 'Cause den de wild spirits come out, and talk in de 
 trees. Dey make me feel bery strong Artr," he replied, 
 striking his hand on his breast. 
 
 " The night and the storm, Scip, make me feel like 
 cultivating another sort of spirits. There are some in 
 the wagon-box ; suppose we stop and see what they are." 
 
 We stopped, and I took out a small willow-flask, 
 which held the " spirits of Otard," and offered it to the 
 darky. 
 
 " Xo, massa," he said, laughing, "I neber touch dem 
 sort ob spirits ; dey raise de bery ole deble." 
 
 Not heeding the darky's example, I took " a long and 
 a strong pull," and — felt the better for it. 
 
 Again we rode on, and again and again I " communed 
 with the spirits," till a sudden exclamation from Scip 
 aroused me from the half- stupor into which I was falling. 
 " What's the matter ?" I asked. 
 
 " A light, massa, a light !" 
 
 "Where?" 
 
 " Dar, way off in de trees — " 
 
 "Sure enough, glory, hallelujah, there it is! We're 
 all right now, Scip." 
 
68 AMONG THE PINES. 
 
 We rode on till we came to the inevitable opening in 
 the trees, and were soon at the door of what I saw, by 
 the light which came through the crevices in the logs, 
 was a one-story shanty, about twenty feet square. "Will 
 you let us come in out of de rain ?" asked Scip of a 
 wretched-looking, half-clad, dirt-bedraggled woman, who 
 thrust her head from the doorway. 
 
 " Who ar ye ?" was the reply. 
 
 " Only massa and me, and de boss, and we'm half dead 
 wid de cold," replied Scip; "can we cum in out ob 
 derain?" 
 
 "Wal, strangers," replied the woman, eyeing us as 
 closely as the darkness would permit, " you'll find 
 mighty poor fixius bar, but I reckon ye can come in." 
 
POOR WHITES. ^^ 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 POOR WHITES, 
 
 Entering the house, we saw, by the hght of a blazing 
 pile of pine-knots, which roared and crackled on the 
 hearth, that it contained only a single apartment. In 
 front of the fire-place, which occupied the better half of 
 one side of this room, the floor was of the bare earth, 
 littered over with pine chips, dead cinders, live coals, 
 broken pots, and a lazy spaniel dog. Opposite to this, 
 at the other end of the room, were two low beds, which 
 looked as if they had been " slept in forever, and never 
 made up." Against the wall, between the beds and the 
 fire-place, stood a small pine table, and on it was a large 
 wooden bowl, from whose mouth protruded the handles 
 of several unwashed pewter spoons. On the right of 
 the fire was a razeed rocking-chair, evidently the pecu- 
 liar property of the mistress of the mansion, and three 
 blocks of pme log, sawn off smoothly, and made to serve 
 for seats. Over agamst these towered a high-backed 
 settle, something hke that on which 
 
 " sot Huldy all alone, 
 "WTien Zeke peeked thru the winder;" 
 
 and on it, her head resting partly on her arm, partly on 
 the end of the settle, one small, bare foot pressing the 
 
70 AMONG THE PINES. 
 
 ground, the other, with the part of the person Avhich is 
 supposed to require stockings, extended in a horizontal 
 direction — recUned, not Huldy, but lier Southern cousin, 
 who, I will wager, was decidedly the prettier and dirtier 
 of the two. Our entrance did not seem to disconcert 
 her in the least, for she lay there as unmoved as a marble 
 statue, her large black eyes riveted on my face, as if 
 seeing some nondescript animal for the first time. I 
 stood for a moment transfixed with admiration. In a 
 somewhat extensive observation of her sex in both hem- 
 ispheres, I had never witnessed such a form, such eyes, 
 such faultless features, and such wavy, black, luxuriant 
 hair. A glance at her dress — a soiled, greasy, grayish 
 linsey-woolsey gown, apparently her only garment — and 
 a second look at her face, which, on closer inspection, 
 had precisely the hue of a tallow candle, recalled me to 
 myself, and allowed me to complete the survey of the 
 premises. 
 
 The house was built of unhewn logs, separated by 
 wide interstices, through which the cold air came, m de- 
 cidedly fresh if not health-giving currents, while a large 
 rent in the roof, that let in the rain, gave the inmates an 
 excellent opportunity for indulging in a shower-bath, of 
 which they seemed greatly in need. Tlie chimney, whicli 
 had intruded a couple of feet into the room, as if to keep 
 out of the cold, and threatened momentarily to tumble 
 down, was of sticks, built up in clay, while the windows 
 were of thick, unplaned boards. 
 
 Two pretty girls, one of perhaps ten and the other of 
 
POOK WHITES. • '^ 
 
 fourteen years, evidently sisters of the unadorned beauty, 
 the middle-aged woman who had admitted us, and the 
 aoir— the only male member of the household— com- 
 posed the family. I had seen negro cabins, but these 
 people were whites, and these whites were South Caro- 
 linians. When such counterparts of the feudal serfs 
 still exist, who will say that the days of chivalry are 
 over ! 
 
 After I had seated myself by the fire, and the driver 
 had gone out to stow the horse away under the tumble- 
 dow^ shed at the back of the house, the elder woman 
 said to me — 
 
 " Reckon yer wet. Ben in the rain !" 
 
 "Yes, madam, we've been out most of the day, and 
 got in the river below here." 
 
 "Did ye? Ye mean the 'run.' I reckon it's right 
 
 deep now." 
 
 "Yes, our horse had to swim," I replied. 
 
 " Ye orter strip and put on dry does to oust." 
 
 " Thank you, madam, I will." 
 
 Going to my portmanteau, Avhich the darky had 
 placed near the door, I found it dripping with wet, and 
 opening it I discovered that every article had undergone 
 the rite of immersion. 
 
 " Every thing is thoroughly soaked, madam. I sliall 
 have to dry myself by your fire. Can you get me a cup 
 of tea?" 
 
 " Right sorry, stranger, but I can't. Ilaint a morsel 
 to eat or di-ink in the house." 
 
72 AMONG THE PINES. 
 
 Remembering that our excellent hostess of the night 
 before had insisted on filling the wagon-box with a quan- 
 tity of "chicken fixins," to serve us in an emergency, 
 and that my brandy flask was in my India-rubber coat, 
 I sent Scij) out for them. 
 
 The stores disclosed boiled chicken, bacon, sandwiches, 
 sweet potatoes, short cake, corn-bread, buttered waflles, 
 and ' common doin's' too numerous to mention, enough 
 to last a family of one for a fortnight, but all completely 
 saturated Avith water. Wet or dry, however, the pro- 
 visions were a godsend to the halt-starved family, and 
 their hearts seemed to open to me with amazing rapidity. 
 The dog got up and wagged his tail, and even the marble- 
 like beauty rose from her reclming posture and invited 
 me to a seat with her on the bench. 
 
 The kettle was soon steaming over the fire, and the 
 boilmg water, mixed with a little brandy, served as a 
 capital substitute for tea. After the chicken Avas re- 
 cooked, and the other edibles "warmed up," the httle 
 pine table was brought out, and I learned — what I had 
 before suspected — that the big wooden bowl and the 
 half dozen pewter spoons were the only "crockery" the 
 family possessed. 
 
 I declined the profiered seat at the table, the cooking 
 utensils being any thing but inviting, and contented 
 myself with the brandy and water; but, forgetting for a 
 moment his color, I motioned to the darky — who was 
 as wet and jaded, and much more hungry than I was — 
 to take the place offered to me. The negro did not seem 
 
POOR WHITES. 73 
 
 inclined to do so, but the woman, observing my gesture, 
 yelled out, her eyes flashing with anger: 
 
 '' No, sar ! Xo darkies eats with us. Hope you don't 
 reckon yerself no better than a good-for-nothin', no ac- 
 count nigger !" 
 
 ""I beg your pardon, madam; I intended no ofl:ence. 
 Scipio has served me very faithfully for two days, and is 
 very tired and hungry. I forgot myself." 
 
 This mollified the lady, and she replied: 
 
 "Niggers is good enulf in thar j^lace, but warn't meant 
 to 'sociate with white folks." 
 
 There may have been some ground for a distinction in 
 that case; there certainly was a diiference between the 
 specimens of the two races then before me; but, not 
 being one of the chivalry, it struck me that the odds 
 were on the side of the black man. The whites were 
 shiftless, ragged, and starving ; the black well clad, 
 cleanly, energetic, and as much above the others in in- 
 tellect as Jupiter is above a church steeple. To be sure, 
 color was against him, and he was, after all, a servant 
 in the land of chivalry and of servant-owners. Of course 
 the woman was right. 
 
 She soon resumed the conversation with this re- 
 mark : 
 
 ''Reckon yer a stranger in these parts; whar d'ye 
 come from?" 
 
 "From Kew York, madam." 
 
 "XewYork! whar's that?" 
 
 " It's a city at the Xorth." 
 4 
 
74 ^ AMONG THE PINES. 
 
 "Oh! yas; IVe heern tell on it: that's whar tlie Cunnel 
 sells his turpentimo. Quite a place, arnt it?" 
 
 "Yes, quite a place. Something larger than all South 
 Carolina." 
 
 "What d'ye say? Larger nor South Carolina. 
 Kinder reckon tain't, is't?" 
 
 "Yes, madam, it is." 
 
 " Du tell ! 'Taint so large as Charles'n, is't ?" 
 
 " Yes, twenty times larger than Charleston." 
 
 " Lord o'massy ! How does all tlie folks live thar ?" 
 
 " Live quite as well as they do here." 
 
 " Ye don't have no niggers thar, does ye ?" 
 
 " Yes, but none that are slaves." 
 
 " Have Ablisherners thar, don't ye ? them people that 
 go agin the South ?" 
 
 " Yes, some of them." 
 
 " What do they go agin the South for ?" 
 
 " They go for freeing the slaves. Some of them think 
 a black man as good as a white one." 
 
 " Quar, that ; yer an Ablisherner, arnt ye ?" 
 
 " Xo, I'm an old-fashioned Whig." 
 
 " What's that ? Xever heerd on them afore." 
 
 "All old-fashioned Whig, madam, is a man whose 
 poUtical principles are perfect, and who is as perfect as 
 his principles." 
 
 That was a " stumper" for the poor woman, who e^■i- 
 dently did not understand one-half of the sentence. 
 
 " Right sort of folks, them," she said, in a half inquir- 
 ing: tone. 
 
POOR WHITES. 76 
 
 " Yes, but tliey're all dead now." 
 "Dead?" 
 
 " Yes, dead, beyond the hope of resurrection." 
 " Iv'e heern all the dead war to be resurrected. 
 Didn't ye say ye war one on 'em ? Ye aint dead yet," 
 said the woman, chucklinir at having cornered me. 
 " But I'm more than /talf dead just now." 
 " Ah," replied the woman, still laughing, " yer a 
 chicken." 
 
 " A chicken ! what's that ?" 
 
 " A thing that goes on tu legs, and karkles," was the 
 ready reply. 
 
 " Ah, my dear madam, you can out-talk me." 
 " Yas, I reckon I kin outrun ye, tu. Ye arnt over 
 rugged." Then, after a pause, she added — "What d'ye 
 'lect that darky, Linkum, President for ?" 
 
 " I didn't elect him. Z voted for Douglas. But Lin- 
 coln is not a darky." 
 
 " He's a mullater, then ; I've heern he war," she replied. 
 " No, he's not a mulatto ; he's a rail-splitter." 
 "Rail-splitter? 77ien he's a 7ngger, shoreP 
 " Xo, madam; white men at the Xorth split rails." 
 " An' white wimmin tu, p'raps," said the woman, with 
 a contemptuous toss of the head. 
 
 " Xo, they don't," I replied, " but white women icorh 
 there." 
 
 " White wimmin work thar !" chimed in the hitherto 
 speechless beauty, showing a set of teeth of the exact 
 color of her %V\\\—yaller. " What du the' du ?" 
 
76 
 
 AMONG THE FIXES. 
 
 " Some of them attend in stores, some set type, some 
 teach school, and some work in factories." 
 
 " Du tell ! Dress nice, and make money ?" 
 
 " Yes," I replied, " they make money, and dress like 
 fine ladies ; in fact, are fine ladies. I know one yomig 
 woman, of about your age, that had to get her own edu- 
 cation, who earns a thousand dollars a year by teaching, 
 and I've heard of many factory-girls who support their 
 parents, and lay by a great deal of money, by working 
 in the mills." 
 
 " Wal !" rephed the young woman, with a contemj^tu- 
 ous curl of her matchless upper lip ; " schule-marms arn't 
 fine ladies ; fine ladies don't work ; only niggers works 
 har. I reckon I'd ruther be 'spectable than work for a 
 Hvin'." 
 
 I could but think how magnificently the hps of some 
 of our glorious Yankee girls would have curled had 
 they have heard that remark, and have seen the poor girl 
 that made it, with her torn, worn, greasy dress; her 
 bare, dirty legs and feet, and her arms, neck, and face so 
 thickly encrusted with a layer of clayey mud that there 
 was danger of hydrophobia if she went near a wash-tub. 
 Restraining my involuntary disgust, I replied : 
 
 " We at the Xorth think work is respectable. We 
 do not look down on a man or a woman for earning their 
 daily bread. We all work." 
 
 " Yas, and that's the why ye'r aU sech cowards," said 
 the old woman. 
 
 " Cowards !" I said ; " who tells you that ?" 
 
I'OOR WHITKS. 77 
 
 " My old man ; lie says one on our hoys can lick five 
 of your Yankee jneny 
 
 " Perhaps so. Is your husbantl away from home ?" 
 
 " Yas, him and our Cal. ar down to Charles'n." 
 
 " Cal. is your son, is he ?" 
 
 " Yas, he's my oldest, and a likely lad he ar tu — he's 
 twenty-one, and liis name are John Cal'oun Mills. 
 He's gone a troopin' it with his fader." 
 
 " What, both i^one and left you ladies here alone?" 
 
 " Yas, the Gunnel sed every man orter go, and they 
 warn't to be ahind the rest. The Gunnel — Gunnel J. — 
 looks arter us while they is away." 
 
 " But I should think the Golonel looked after you 
 poorly — giving you nothing to eat." 
 
 " Oh ! it's ben sech a storm to-day, the gals couldn't 
 go for the idttles, though 'tain't a great w^ay. AYe'r 
 on his plantation; this house is his'n." 
 
 This last was agreeable news, and it occurred to 
 me that if we were so near the Golonel's we might 
 push on, in spite of the storm, and get there that 
 night ; so I said : 
 
 " Indeed ; Fm going- to the Golonel's. How far is his 
 house from here ?" 
 
 " A right smart six mile ; it's at the Gross roads. Ye 
 know the Gunnel, du ye ?" 
 
 " Oh, yes, I know him well. If his house is not more 
 than six miles off, I think we had better go on to-night. 
 What do you say, Scip ?" 
 
 " I reckon we'd better gwo, massa," replied the darky, 
 
78 AMONG THE PINES. 
 
 who had spread my travellmg-shawl in tlie chimney- 
 corner, and was seated on it, drying his clothes. 
 
 " Ye'd better not," said the woman ; " ye'd better 
 stay har ; thar's a right smart run twixt har and the 
 CrninePs, and 'tain't safe to cross arter dark." 
 
 " If that is so weVl better stay, Scip ; don't you think 
 80 ?" I said to the darky. 
 
 " Jess as you say, massa. We got fru wid de oder 
 one, and I reckon taint no wuss nor dat." 
 
 " The bridge ar carried away, and ye'll hev to swim 
 sAore," said the woman. " Ye'd better stay." 
 
 " Thank you, madam, I think we will," I replied, after 
 a moment's thought ; " our horse has swum one of your 
 creeks to-night, and I dare not try another." 
 
 Having taken off my coat, I had been standing, during 
 the greater j^art of this conversation, in my shirt-sleeves 
 before the fire, turning round occasionally to facilitate 
 the drying process, and taking every now and then a sip 
 from the gourd containing our brandy and Avater ; aided 
 in the latter exercise by the old woman and the eldest 
 girl, who indulged quite as freely as I did. 
 
 " Mighty good brandy that," at last said the woman. 
 " Ye like brandy, don't ye?" 
 
 " Xot very much, madam. I take it to-night because 
 I've been exposed to the storm, and it stimulates the cir- 
 culation- But Scip, here, don't hke spirits. He'll get 
 the rheumatism because he don't." 
 
 " Don't like dem sort of sperits, massa ; but rumatics 
 iieber trubble me." 
 
POOR WHITES. 
 
 "But I've got it mighty bad," said the woman, ^' and 
 I take ^em whenever I Jcin get V?>i." 
 
 I ratlier thought she did, but I "reckoned" her prin- 
 cipal beverage was whiskey. 
 
 "You have the rlieumatism, madam, because your 
 house is so open ; a draught of air is always unhealthy." 
 
 "I allers reckoned 'twar healthy,^' she replied. "Ye 
 Yankee folks have quar notions." 
 
 I looked at my watch, and found it was nearly ten 
 o'clock, and, feeling very tired, said to the hostess : 
 
 " Where do you mean we shall sleep ?" 
 
 " Ye can take that ar bed," pointing to the one near- 
 est the wall, " the darky can sleep har ;" motionmg to 
 the settle on which she was seated. 
 
 "But where will you and your daughters sleep? I 
 don't wish to turn you out of your beds." 
 
 "Oh! don't ye keerfor us; we kin all bunk together; 
 dun it afore. Like to turn in now ?" 
 
 " Yes, thank you, I would ;" and without more cere- 
 mony I adjourned to the further part of the room, 
 and commenced disrobing. Doffing my boots, waist- 
 coat, and cravat, and placing my watch and purse 
 under the pillow, I gave a moment's thought to what 
 a certain not very old lady, whom I had left at home, 
 might say when she heard of my lodging with a grass- 
 widow and three young girls, and sprang into bed. 
 Tliere I removed my under-mentionables, which were 
 still too damp to sleep in, and in about two minutes and 
 thirty seconds sunk into oblivion. 
 
80 AMONG THE PLNES. 
 
 A few Streaks of grayish light were beginning to 
 creep through the crevices in the logs, when a move- 
 ment at the foot of the bed awakened me, and glancing 
 downward I beheld the youngest girl emerging from 
 under the clothes at my feet. She had slept there, 
 " cross-wise," all night. A stir in the adjoining bed 
 soon warned me that the other feminines were pre- 
 paring to follow her example ; so, turning my face to 
 the wall, I feigned to be sleeping. Their toilet was 
 soon made, when they quietly left Scip and myself in 
 possession of the premises. 
 
 The darky rose as soon as they were gone, and, com- 
 ing to me, said : 
 
 " Massa, we'd better be gwine. I'se got your does 
 all dry, and you can rig up and breakfust at de Gun- 
 nel's." 
 
 The storm had cleared away, and the sun was strug- 
 gling to get through the distant pines, when Scip 
 brought the horse to the door, and we prepared to 
 start. Turning to the old woman, I said : 
 
 " I feel greatly obliged to you, madam, for the shel- 
 ter you have given us, and would hke to make you some 
 recompense for your trouble. Please to tell me what I 
 shall pay you." 
 
 " Wal, stranger, we don't gin'rally take in lodgers, 
 but seein' as how as thar ar tu on ye, and ye've had a 
 good night on it, I don't keer if ye pay me tu dollars." 
 
 That struck me as " rather steep" for " common 
 doin's," particularly as we had furnished the food and 
 
PuoR WHITES. 81 
 
 " the drinks ;" yet, saying nothing, I handed her a two- 
 dollar bank-note. She took it, and held it up curiously 
 to the sun lor a moment, then handed it back, saying, 
 "I don't know nuth'nr 'bout that ar sort o' money; 
 haint you got no silver ?" 
 
 I fumbled in my pocket a moment, and found a quar- 
 ter-eagle, which I gave her. 
 
 " Haint got nary a tip o' change," she said, as she 
 took it. 
 
 " Oh ! never mind the change, madam ; I shall want 
 to stop and look at you when I return," I repUed, good- 
 humoredly. 
 
 " Ha ! ha I yer a chicken," said the woman, at the 
 same time giving me a gentle poke in the ribs. Fear- 
 ing she might, in the exuberance of her joy at the sight 
 of the money, proceed to some more decided demonstra- 
 tion of affection, I hastily stepped into the wagon, bade 
 her good-by, and was off. 
 
 We were still among the pines, which towered gigan- 
 tically all around us, but were no longer alone. Every 
 tree was scarified for turpentine, and the forest was 
 alive with negro men and women gathering the " last 
 dipping," or clearing away the stumps and underbrush 
 preparatory to the spring work. It was Christmas 
 week ; but, as I afterward learned, the Colonel's ne- 
 groes were accustomed to doing " half tasks" at that 
 season, being paid for their labor as if they were free. 
 They stopped their work as we rode by, and stared at 
 us with a stupid, half-frightened curiosity, very much 
 4* 
 
82 AMONG THE PINES. 
 
 like the look of a cow when a railway train is passing. 
 It needed but little observation to convince me that 
 their status was but one step above the level of the 
 brutes. 
 
 As we rode along I said to the driver, " Scip, what 
 did you think of our lodgings ?" 
 
 " Mighty pore, massa. Xiggas lib better'n dat." 
 
 " Yes," I replied, " but these folks despise you blacks ; 
 they seem to be both poor and proud." 
 
 " Yas, massa, dey'm pore 'cause dey wont work, and 
 dey'm proud 'cause dey'r white. Dey wont work 
 'cause dey see de darky slaves doin' it, and tink it am 
 beneaf white folks to do as de darkies do. Dis habin' 
 slaves keeps dis hull country pore." 
 
 " Who told you that ?" I asked, astonished at hear- 
 ing a remark showing so much reflection from a negro. 
 
 " Nobody, massa ; I see it myseff." 
 
 " Are there many of these poor whites around George- 
 town ?" 
 
 " Xot many 'round Georgetown, sar, but great many 
 in de up-country har, and dey'm all 'like — pore and no 
 account ; none ob 'em kin read, and dey all eat clay." 
 
 " Eat clay !" I said ; " what do you mean by that ?" 
 
 " Didn't you see, massa, how yaller all dem wimmin 
 war ? Dat's 'cause dey eat clay. De little children be- 
 gin 'fore dey kin walk, and dey eat it till dey die ; dey 
 chaw it like 'backer. It makes all dar stumacs big, like 
 as you seed 'em, and spiles dar 'gestion. It 'm mighty 
 onhealfy." 
 
POOR WIIITKS. S3 
 
 " Can it be possible that human ])eings do such 
 things ! The brutes woukhi't do tliiit." 
 
 '"' Xo, niassu, but d t/ do it ; dey'ni pore trash. Dat's 
 what de big I'olks call 'em, and it am true ; dey'm long 
 way lower down dan de darkies." 
 
 By this time we liad arrived at the " run." We found 
 the bridge carried away, as the woman had told us ; but 
 its abutments were still standing, and over these planks 
 had been laid, which afforded a safe crossing for foot- 
 passengers. To reach these planks, however, it was 
 necessary to wade into the stream for full fifty yards, 
 the " run" having overflowed its banks for that distance 
 on either side of the bridge. The water was evidently 
 receding, but, as we could not well wait, like the man 
 in the fable, for it all to run by, we alighted, and coun- 
 selled as to the best mode of making the passage. 
 
 Scip proposed that he should wade in to the first 
 abutment, ascertain the depth of the stream, and then, 
 if it was not too deep for the horse to ford to that 
 point, drive that far, get out, and walk to the end of 
 the planking, kading the horse, and then again mount 
 the wagon at tlie further end of the bridge. We were 
 sure the horse would have to swim in the middle of the 
 current, and perhaps for a considerable distance beyond; 
 but, having witnessed his proficiency in aquatic per- 
 formances, we had no doubt he would get safely across. 
 
 The darky's plan was decided on, and divesting him. 
 self of his trowsers, he waded into the " run" to take 
 the soundings. 
 
84 AMONG THE PINES. 
 
 While he was in the water my attention was at- 
 tracted to a printed paper, posted on one of the pines 
 near the roadside. Going up to it, I read as follows : 
 
 ".^^250 REWARD. 
 
 "Ran away from the subscriber, on Monday, Xovember 12th, his 
 mulatto man, Sam. Said boy is stout-built, five feet nine inches 
 high, 31 years old, weighs 170 lbs., and walks very erect, and with 
 a quick, rapid gait. The American flag is tattooed on his right 
 arm above the elbow. There is a knife-cut over the bridge of his 
 nose, a fresh bullet- wound in his left thigh, and his back bears 
 marks of a recent whipping. He is supposed to have made his 
 way back to Dinwiddie County, Ya., where he was raised, or to be 
 lurking in the swamps in this vicinity. 
 
 "The above reward will be paid for his confinement in any jail 
 in North or South Carolina, or Yirginia, or for his delivery to the 
 subscriber on his plantation at . 
 
 " , December 2, 1860." 
 
 Tlie name signed to this hand-bill was that of the 
 planter I was about to \dsit. 
 
 Scip having returned, and reported the stream forda- 
 ble to the bridge, I said to him, pointing to the " notice :" 
 
 " Read that, Scip." 
 
 He read it, but made no remark. 
 
 " What does it mean — that fresh bullet wound, and 
 the marks of a recent whipping ?" I asked. 
 
 " It mean, massa, dat de darky hab run awav, and 
 ben took ; and dat when dey took him dey shot hun, 
 and flogged him arter dat. ' Xow, he hab run away 
 agin. De Gunnel's mighty hard on his ni2:gas !" 
 
POOR WHITES. °^ 
 
 *' Is lie ? I can scarcely believe that." 
 "lie am, massa ; but he arnt so much to blame, 
 mither; dey^m a^vM bad, most ob 'em-so dey 
 
 say." , , 
 
 Our conversation was here interrupted by our reach- 
 in- the bridge. After safely " walking the plank," and 
 making our way to the opposite bank, I resumed it 
 
 by askino; : .11 
 
 "Why are the Colonel's negroes so particularlj 
 
 '''"'Cause, you see, ™assa, de turpentime business hab 
 „,ade great profits for sum yars now and de Cmnve 
 hab been gettin' -h bery fass He put al h 
 money, jes so fass as he make it, mto dark.es so to 
 make more ; for he's got bery big plantation, and need 
 nuffin' but darkies to work it to make money jess like a 
 cold mine. He goes up to Virgimiy to buy n.ggas; 
 :nd up dar noro dey don't sell none less dey'm bad uns, 
 'cep when sum massa die or git pore. Virgnmy dark.es 
 dat cum down har aint gin'rally ob much account. 
 Dey'm either kinder good-for-nufiin, or dey m ugly; 
 and de Cunnel 'd ruther hab de ugly dan de no-accouut 
 
 niggas." 
 
 " How many negroes has he ?" 
 
 u'Bout two hundred, men and wimmin, I Vlieve, 
 
 massa." . . i 
 
 " It can't be pleasant for his family to remam m such 
 an out-of-the-way place, with so bad a gang ot negroes 
 about them, and no white people near." 
 
86 AMONG THE PINES. 
 
 " Xo, massa, not in dese times ; but de missus and 
 de young lady arnt dar now." 
 
 " Xot there now ? The Colonel said nothing to me 
 about that. Are you sure ?" 
 
 •' Oh yas, massa ; I seed 'em gwo off on de boat to 
 Charles'n most two weeks ago. Dey don't mean to 
 cum back till tings am more settled ; dey'm 'fraid to 
 stay dar." 
 
 " Would it be safe for the Colonel there, if a dis- 
 turbance broke out among the slaves." 
 
 " 'T wouldn't be safe den any whar, sar ; but de Cun- 
 nel am a bery brave man. He'm better dan twenty of 
 his niggas." 
 
 " Why better than twenty of h Is niggers ?" 
 
 " 'Cause dem ugly niggas am gin'rally cowards. De 
 darky dat is quiet, 'spectful, and does his duty, am de 
 brave sort ; deyHl fight, massa, till dey'm cut down." 
 
 We had here reached a turn in the road, and passing 
 it, came suddenly upon a coach, attached to which were 
 a pair of magnificent grays, driven by a darky in livery. 
 
 " Hallo, dar !" said Scip to the drivei', as we came 
 nearly abreast of the carriage. "Am you Cunnel 
 J 's man ?" 
 
 "Yas, I is dat," replied the darky. 
 
 Ac this moment a woolly head, which I recognized at 
 once as that of the Colonel's man " Jim," was thrust 
 from the window of the vehicle. 
 
 " Hallo, Jim," I said. " How do you do ? I'm glad 
 to see you." 
 
POOR WHITES. 87 
 
 "Lor bress me, Massa K , am dat you V" ex- 
 claimed tlie astonished nec^ro, hastily opening the door, 
 and coming to me. '' Whar did you cum from ? Tse 
 mighty glad to see you ;" at the same time giving my 
 hand a hearty shaking. I must here say, in justice to 
 the reputation of South Carolina, that no respectable 
 Carolinian refuses to shake hands "with a black man, 
 unless — the black happens to be free. 
 
 "I thought I would'nt wait for you," I repUed. 
 " But how did you expect to get on ? the ' runs' have 
 swollen into rivers." 
 
 " We got a '• flat' made for dis one — it's down by 
 dis time — de oders we tought Ave'd get ober sum- 
 how." 
 
 " Jim, this is Scip," I said, seeing the darkies took 
 no notice of each other. 
 
 " How d'ye do, Scip^o .^" said Jim, extending his 
 hand to him. A look of singular intelligence passed 
 over the faces of the two negroes as their hands met ; it 
 vanished in an instant, and was so slight that none but 
 a close observer would have detected it, but some words 
 that Scip had previously let drop had put me on the 
 alert, and I felt sure it had a hidden significance. 
 
 " Wont you get into de carriage, massa ?" inquired 
 Jim. 
 
 " Xo, thank you, Jim. I'll ride on with Scip. Our 
 horse is jaded, and you had better go ahead." 
 
 Jim mounted the driver's seat, turned the carriage, 
 and drove off at a brisk pace to announce our coming 
 
88 AMONG THE TIXES. 
 
 at the plantation, while Scip and I rode on at a slower 
 gait. 
 
 " Scip, did you know Jim before ?" I asked. 
 
 " Hab seed him afore, massa, but neber know'd him." 
 
 *' How is it that you haye liyed in Georgetown fiye 
 years, and haye not known him ?" 
 
 " I end hab know'd him, massa, good many time, ef 
 I'd hked, but darkies hab to be careful." 
 
 "Careful of what?" 
 
 " Careful ob who dey knows ; good many bad niggas 
 'bout." 
 
 " Pshaw, Scip, you're ' coming de possum ;' there 
 isn't a better nigger than Jim in all South Carolina. I 
 know him well." 
 
 " P'raps he am ; reckon he am a good 'nuif nigga." 
 
 " Good enough nigga, Scip ! TThy, I tell you he's a 
 splendid fellow ; just as true as steel. He's been Xorth 
 with the Colonel, often, and the Abolitionists have tried 
 to get him away ; he knew he could go, but wouldn't 
 budge an inch." 
 
 " I knew he wouldn't," said the darky, a pleasurable 
 gleam passing through his eyes ; " dat sort don't run ; 
 dey face de music !" 
 
 " Why don't they run ? What do you mean by 
 facing the music ?" 
 
 " Xuffin' massa — only dey'd ruther stay har." 
 
 " Come, Scip, you'ye played this game long enough. 
 Tell me, now, what that look- you gaye each other when 
 you shook hands meant." 
 
POOR WHITES. 
 
 "What look, massa? Oh! I s'pose 'twar 'cause 
 we'd both heerd ob each oder afore." 
 
 - Twas more than that, Scip. Be frank ; you know 
 
 you can trust m^j." 
 
 " Wal, don, massa," he rephed hesitatingly, addnig, 
 after a short pause, " de ole woman called you a Yan- 
 kee, sar— you can guess." 
 
 ^^ If I should guess, 't would be that it meant mis- 
 
 chlefy 
 
 '' It don t mean mischief, sar," said the darky, with a 
 
 tone and air that would not have disgraced a Cabmet 
 
 officer ; " it mean only Right and Justice." 
 
 " It means that there is some secret understanding 
 
 between you." 
 
 " I toled you, massa," he repUed, relapsing into his 
 
 usual manner, " dat de blacks am aU Freemasons. I 
 
 gabe Jim de grip, and he knowd me. He'd ha knowd 
 
 my name ef you hadn't toled him." 
 
 " Why would he have known your name ?" 
 
 " 'Cause I gabe de grip, dat tole him." 
 
 " Why did he call you Scip^o f I called you Scip'' 
 
 " Oh ! de darkies all do dat. Nobody but de white 
 
 folks call me Scip. I can't say no more, massa ; I shud 
 
 BKEAK DE OATH EF I DID !" • 
 
 " You have said enough to satisfy me that there is a 
 secret league among the blacks, and that you are a leader 
 in it. Now, I tell you, you'll get yourself into a scrape. 
 I've taken a liking to you, Scip, and I should be very 
 sorry to see you run yourself into danger." 
 
90 AMONG THE PINES. 
 
 " 1 tank you, massa, from de bottom ob my soul I 
 tank you," he said, as the tears moistened his eyes. 
 *' You bery kind, massa ; it do me good to talk wid 
 you. But what am my life wuth? What am any 
 slave's life wuth ? Ef you war me you'd do like 
 me r 
 
 I could not deny it, and I made no reply. 
 
 The writer is aware that he is here making an impor- 
 tant statement, and one^^hat may be called in question 
 by those persons who are accustomed to regard the 
 Southern blacks as only reasoning brutes. The great 
 mass of them are but a little above the brutes in their 
 habits and instincts, but a large body are fully on a par, 
 except in mere book-education, with their white mas- 
 ters. 
 
 The conversation above recorded is, verbatim et liter- 
 atim^ TRUE. It took place at the time indicated, and 
 was taken down, as were other conversations recorded 
 in this book, within twenty-four hours after its occur- 
 rence. The name and the locality, only, I have, for very 
 evident reasons, disguised. 
 
 From this conversation, together with others, held 
 with the same negro, and from after developments 
 made to me at various places, and at different times, 
 extending over a period of six weeks, I became ac- 
 quainted with the fact that there exists among the 
 blacks a secret and wide-spread organization of a Ma- 
 sonic character, having its grip, pass-word, and oath. 
 It has various grades of leaders, who are competent 
 
POOR WHITES. 91 
 
 and earnest men, and its ultimate object is Freedom. 
 It is quite as secret and wide-spread as the order of the 
 *' Knights of the Golden Circle," the kindred league 
 among the wliites. 
 
 This latter organization, which was instituted by 
 John C. Calhoun, AVilliani L. Porcher, and others, as 
 far back as 1835, has for its sole object the dissolution 
 of the Union, and the establishment of a Southern Em- 
 pire — Empire is the word, not Confederacy, or Repub- 
 lic ; and it was solely by means of its secret but power- 
 ful machinery that the Southern States were plimged 
 into revolution, in defiance of the will of a majority of 
 their voting population. 
 
 Nearly every man of influence at the South (and 
 many a pretended Union man at the North) is a 
 member of this organization, and sworn, under the pen- 
 alty of assassination, to labor " in season and out of 
 season, by fair means and by foul, at all times, and all 
 occasions," for the accomplishment of its object. The 
 blacks are bound together by a similar oath, and only 
 hide their time. 
 
 The knowledge of the real state of political affairs 
 which the negroes have acquired through this organiza- 
 tion is astonishingly accurate ; their leaders possess every 
 essential of leadership— except, it may be, military skill 
 . — and they are fully able to cope with the Avhites. 
 
 The negro whom I call Scipio, on the day when Major 
 Anderson evacuated Fort Moultrie, and before he or I 
 knew of that event, which set all South Carolina in a 
 
92 AMONG THE PINES. 
 
 blaze, foretold to me the breaking out of this -war in 
 Charleston harbor, and as confidently predicted that it 
 would result in the freedom of the slaves ! 
 
 The fiet of this organization existing is not positively 
 known (for the black is more subtle and crafty than 
 any thing human), but it is suspected by many of the 
 whites, the more moderate of whom are disposed to 
 ward off the impending blow by some system of grad- 
 ual emancipation — declaring all black children born 
 after a certain date free — or by some other action that 
 will pacify and keep down the slaves. These persons, 
 however, are but a small minority, and possess no poUt- 
 ical power, and the South is rushing blindly on to a 
 catastrophe, which, if not averted by the action of our 
 government, will make the horrors of San Domingo 
 and the French Revolution grow pale in history. 
 
 I say the action of our government, for with it rests 
 the responsibility. What the black wants is freedom. 
 Give him that, and he will have no incentive to insur- 
 rection. If emancipation is proclaimed at the head ot 
 our armies — emancipation for all — confiscation for the 
 slaves of rebels, compensation for the slaves of loyal 
 citizens — the blacks will rush to the aid of our troops, 
 the avenging angel will pass over the homes of the 
 many true and loyal men who are still left at the South, 
 and the thunderbolts of this war will fall only — where 
 they should fall — on the heads of its blood-stained au- 
 thors. If this is not done, kfter we have put down the 
 whites we shall have to meet the blacks, and after we 
 
TOOK WUITES. 93 
 
 ha^'0 waded knee-deep in the blood of both, we shall 
 end the war where it began, but with the South deso- 
 lated by tire and sword, the North impoverished and 
 loaded down with an everlasting debt, and our once 
 proud, happy, and glorious country the by-word and 
 scorn of the civilized world. 
 
 Slavery is the very bones, marrow, and life-blood of 
 this rebellion, and it cannot be crushed till we have 
 destroyed that accursed institution. If a miserable 
 peace is patched up before a death-stroke is given to 
 slavery, it will gather new strength, and drive freedom 
 from this country forever. In the nature of things it 
 cannot exist in the same hemisphere with liberty. 
 Then let every man who loves his country determine 
 that if this war must needs last for twenty years, it 
 shall not end until this root of all our political evils is 
 weeded out forever. 
 
 A short half-hour took us to the plantation, where I 
 found the Colonel on the piazza awaiting me. After 
 our greeting was over, noticing my soiled and rather 
 dilapidated condition, he inquired where I had passed 
 the night. I told him, when he burst into a hearty fit of 
 laughter, and for several days good-naturedly bantered 
 me about " putting up" at the most aristocratic hotel in 
 South Carohna— the " Mills House." 
 
 We soon entered the mansion, and the reader will, I 
 trust, pardon me, if I leave him standing in its door-way 
 till another chapter. 
 
9tt AMONG THE PINES. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 ox THE PLANTATION. 
 
 The last chapter left the reader in tlie door-way of 
 the Colonel's mansion. Before entering, we will linger 
 there awhile and survey the outside of the premises. 
 
 The house stands where two roads meet, and, unlike 
 most planters' dwellings, is located in full view of the 
 highway. It is a rambling, disjointed structure, thrown 
 together with no regard to architectural rules, and yet 
 there is a rude harmony in its very irregularities that 
 has a pleasing effect. The main edifice, with a frontage 
 of nearly eighty feet, is only one and a half stories high, 
 and is overshadowed by a broad projecting roof, which 
 somehow, though in a very natural way, drops down at 
 the eaves, and forms the covering of a piazza, twenty 
 feet wide, and extending across the entire front of the 
 house. At its south-easterly angle, the roof is truncated, 
 and made again to form a covering for the piazza, which 
 there extends along a line of irregular buildings for sixty 
 yards. A portion of the verandah on this side being 
 enclosed, forms a bowling-alley and smoking-room, two 
 essential appendages to a planter's residence. Tlie whole 
 structure is covered witli yellow-pine weather boarding, 
 which in some former age was covered with paint of a 
 grayish brown color. This, in many places, has peeled 
 
ON THE PI.ANTATIOX. 
 
 95 
 
 off and aUowed the sap to ooze from the pine, leaving 
 every here and there large blotches on the surf-ice, some- 
 what resembling the '' warts" I have seen on the trunks 
 of okl trees. 
 
 The house is encircled by grand old pines, whose tall, 
 upright stems, soaring eighty and ninety feet in the air, 
 make the low hamlet seem lower by the contrast. They 
 liave stood there for centuries, their rough, shaggy coats 
 buttoned close to their forms, and their long green locks 
 waving in the wind ; but the long knife has been thrust 
 into their veins, and their hfe-blood is now fast oozing 
 
 away. 
 
 With the exception of the negro huts, which are scat- 
 tered at irregular intervals -through the woods in the 
 rear of the mansion, there is not a human habitation 
 within an hour's ride ; but such a cosy, inviting, hos- 
 pitable atmosphere surrounds the whole i)lace, that a 
 stranger does not realize he has happened upon it in a 
 wilderness. 
 
 The interior of the dwelling is in keeping with the 
 exterior, though in the drawing-rooms, where rich fur- 
 niture and fine paintings actually lumber the apartments, 
 there is evident the lack of a nice perception of the "fit- 
 ness of things," and over the whole hangs a " dusty air," 
 which reminds one that the Milesian Bridget does not 
 '* flourish" in South Carolina. 
 
 I was met in the entrance-way by a tall, fine-looking 
 woman, to whom the Colonel introduced me as fol- 
 lows : 
 
96 AMONG THE FIXES. 
 
 " Mr. K , this is Madam P , my housekeeper ; 
 
 she will try to make you forget that Mrs. J is ab- 
 sent." 
 
 After a few customary courtesies were exchanged, I 
 was shown to a dressing-room, and with the aid of 
 Jim, a razor, and one of the Colonel's shirts — all of 
 mine having undergone a drenching — soon made a tol- 
 erably presentable appearance. The negro then con- 
 ducted me to the breakfost-room, where I found the 
 family assembled. 
 
 It consisted, besides the housekeeper, of a tall, raw- 
 boned, sandy-haired personage, with a low brow, a blear 
 eye, and a sneaking look — the overseer of the planta- 
 tion ; and of a well-mannered, intelhgent lad — with the 
 peculiarly erect carriage and uncommon blending of 
 good-natured ease and dignity which distinguished my 
 host — who was introduced to me as the housekeeper's 
 son. 
 
 Madam P , who presided over the " tea-things," 
 
 was a person of j^erhaps thirty-five, but a rich olive com- 
 plexion, enlivened by a delicate red tint, and reheved 
 by thick masses of black hair, made her appear to a 
 casual observer several years younger. Her face bore 
 Testiges of great beauty, which time, and, perhaps, care, 
 had mellowed but not obliterated, and her conversation 
 indicated high cultivation. She had evidently mingled 
 in refined society in this country and in Europe, and it 
 was a strange freak of fortune that had reduced her to 
 a menial condition in the family of a backwoods planter. 
 
ON THE PLANTATION. 97 
 
 After some general conversation, the Colonel remarked 
 that his wife and daughter would pass the winter in 
 Charleston. 
 
 "And do you remain on the plantation?" I in- 
 quired. 
 
 '• Oh yes, I am needed here," he replied ; " but Mad- 
 am's son is with my family." 
 
 " Madam's son !" I exclaimed in astonishment, forget- 
 ting in my surprise that the lady was present. 
 
 " Yes, sir," she remarked, " my oldest boy is twenty." 
 
 " Excuse me. Madam ; I forgot that in your climate 
 one never grows old." 
 
 '' There you are wrong, sir ; I'm sure \feel old when 
 I think how soon my boys will be men." 
 
 " Not old yet, Alice," said the Colonel, in a singularly 
 familiar tone ; " you seem to me no older than when you 
 were fifteen." 
 
 "You have been long acquainted," I remarked, not 
 knowing exactly what to say. 
 
 " Oh, yes," replied my host, " we were children to- 
 gether." 
 
 " Your Southern country. Madam, afibrds a fine field 
 for young men of enterprise." 
 
 " My eldest son resides in Germany," replied the lady. 
 "He expects to make that country his home. He would 
 have passed his examination at Heidelberg this au- 
 tumn had not circumstances called him here." 
 
 " You are widely separated," I replied. 
 
 " Yes, sir ; his father thinks it best, and I suppose it 
 5 
 
98 AMONG THE PINES. 
 
 is. Thomas, here, is to return with his brother, and I 
 may live to see neither of them again." 
 
 My curiosity was naturally much excited to learn 
 more, but notliing further being volunteered, and the 
 conversation soon turning to other topics, I left the table 
 with it unsatisfied. 
 
 After enjoying a quiet hour with the Colonel in the 
 Bmoking-room, he invited me to join him in a ride over 
 the plantation. I gladly assented, and Jim shortly an- 
 nounced the horses were in waiting. That darky, who 
 invariably attended his master w^hen the latter pro- 
 ceeded from home, accompanied us. As we were 
 mounting I bethought me of Scip, and asked where he 
 was. 
 
 " He'm gwine to gwo, massa, and want to say good- 
 by to you." 
 
 It seemed madness for Scip to start on a journey of 
 seventy miles without rest, so I requested the Colonel 
 to let him remain till the next day. He cheerfully as- 
 sented, and sent Jim to find him. "While waiting for 
 the darky, I spoke of how fiiithfully he had served me 
 during my journey. 
 
 " He's a splendid nigger," replied the Colonel ; " worth 
 his weight in gold. If affairs were more settled I would 
 buy him." 
 
 " But Colonel A tells me he is too mtelligent. 
 
 He objects to 'knowing' niggers." 
 
 " Zdo not," repUed my host, " if they are honest, and 
 I would trust Scip with uncounted gokL Look at him," 
 
ON TIIK PLANTATION. 
 
 99 
 
 he continued, as the negro approached ; '' were flesh and 
 bones ever better put together ?" 
 
 The darkv iras a fine specimen of sable humanity, and 
 I readily understood why the practiced eye of the Col- 
 onel appreciated his physical developments. 
 
 '' Sfip," I said, '' you must not think of going to-day ; 
 the Colonel will be glad to let you remain until you are 
 fully rested." 
 
 " Tank you, massa, tank you bery much, but de ole 
 man will spec' me, and I orter gwo." 
 
 "Oh, never mind old ," said the Colonel, "I'll 
 
 take care of him." 
 
 "Tank you, Cunnel, den I'll stay har till de mornin'." 
 
 Taking a by-path which led through the forest in tlie 
 rear of the mansion, we soon reached a small stream, 
 and, following its course for a short distance, came upon 
 a turpentine distillery, which the Colonel explained to 
 me was one of three that prepared the product of his 
 plantation for market, and provided for his family of 
 nearly three hundred souls. 
 
 It was enclosed, or rather roofed, by a rude structure 
 of rough boards, which was open at the sides, and sus- 
 tained on a number of pine poles about thirty feet in 
 height, and bore a strong resemblance to the usual 
 covering of a New England haystack. 
 
 Three stout negro men, divested of all clothing except- 
 ing a pair of coarse gray trowsers and a red shirt — it 
 ■ was a raw, cold, wintry day — and with cotton bandannas 
 bound about their heads, were " tending the still." The 
 
100 AMONG THE PINES. 
 
 foreman stood on a raised platform level with its top, 
 but as we approached very quietly seated himself on a 
 turpentine barrel which a moment before he had rolled 
 over the mouth of the boiler. Another negro was below, 
 feeding the fire with "light wood," and a third was 
 tending the trough by which the liquid rosin found its 
 way into the semicircle of rough barrels intended for its 
 reception. 
 
 "Hello, Junius, what in creation are you doing there ?" 
 asked the Colonel, as we approached, of the negro on the 
 turpentine barrel. 
 
 " Holein' her down. Gunnel ; de ole ting got a mine 
 to blow up dis mornin' ; I'se got dis barrl up har to hole 
 her down." 
 
 " Why, you everlasting nigger, if the top leaks you'll 
 be blown to eternity in half a second." 
 
 "Reckon not, massa; be barrl and me kin hole her. 
 We'U take de risk." 
 
 " Perhaps you will," said the Colonel, laughing, " but 
 I wont. Xigger property isn't of much account, but 
 you're too good a darky, June, to be sent to the devil 
 for a charge of turpentine." 
 
 " Tank you, massa, but you dun kno' dis ole ting like 
 I do. You cudn't blow her up nohow; I'se tried her 
 afore dis way." 
 
 " Don't you do it again ; now mind ; if you do I'll 
 make a white man of you.'' (This I suppose referred to 
 a process of flaying with a whip; though the whip 
 is generally thought to reddoij not whiten^ the negro.) 
 
ON THE PLANTATION. 101 
 
 The black did not seem at all alarmed, for he showed 
 his ivories in a broad grin as he replied, '' Jess as you 
 Bay, massa ; you'se de boss in dis shanty." 
 
 Directing the fire to be raked out, and the still to 
 stand unused until it was repaired, the Colonel turned 
 his horse to go, when he observed that the third negro 
 was shoeless, and his feet chapped and swollen with the 
 cold. *' Jake," he said, " where are your shoes ?" 
 
 " Wored out, massa." 
 
 " Worn out ! Why haven't you been to me ?" 
 
 " 'Cause, massa, I know'd you'd jaw ; you tole me I 
 wears 'em out mighty fass." 
 
 " Well, you do, that's a fact ; but go to Madam and 
 get a pair ; and you, June, you've been a decent nigger, 
 you can ask for a dress for Rosy. How is little June?" 
 
 " Mighty pore, massa ; de ma'am war dar lass night 
 and dis mornin', and she reckun he'm gwine to gwo, 
 sartain." 
 
 "Sorry to hear that," said the Colonel. "I'll go and 
 see him. Don't feel badly, June," he continued, for the 
 tears welled up to the eyes of the black man as he spoke 
 of his child ; " we all must die." 
 
 "I knows dat, massa, but it am hard to hab 'em 
 gwo." 
 
 " Yes, it is, June, but we may save him." 
 
 " Ef you cud, massa ! Oh, ef you cud !" and the poor 
 darky covered his face with his great hands and sobbed 
 like a child. 
 
 We rode on to another " still," and there dismount- 
 
102 AMONG THE FIXES. 
 
 iiig, the Colonel explained to me the process of gathering 
 and manufacturing turpentine. The trees are "boxed" 
 and " tapped" early in the year, while the frost is still 
 in the ground. "Boxing" is the process of scooping a 
 cavity in the trunk of the tree by means of a peculiarly 
 shaped axe, made for the purpose ; " tapping" is scarify- 
 ing the rind of the wood above the boxes. This is never 
 done until the trees have been worked one season, but 
 it is then repeated year after year, till on many planta- 
 tions they present the marks of twenty and frequently 
 thirty annual " tappings," and are often denuded of bark 
 for a distance of thirty feet from the ground. The neces- 
 sity for this annual tapping arises from the fact that the 
 scar on the trunk heals at the end of a season, and the 
 sap will no longer run from it ; a fresh wound is there- 
 fore made each spring. The sap flows down the scari- 
 fied surface and collects in the boxes, which are emptied 
 six or eight times in a year, according to the length of 
 the season. Tliis is the process of " dipping," and it is 
 done with a tin or iron vessel constructed to fit the 
 cavity in the tree. 
 
 The tui-pentine gathered from the newly boxed or 
 virgin tree is very valuable, on account of its producing 
 a peculiarly clear and white rosin, which is used in the 
 manufacture of the finer kinds of soap, and by " Rosin 
 the Bow." It commands, ordinarily, nearly five times 
 the price of the common article. When barrelled, the 
 turpentine is frequently sent to market in its crude state, 
 but more often is distilled on the plantation, the gath- 
 
ON THE PLANTATION. 103 
 
 erers generally possessing means sufficient to own a 
 
 still. 
 
 In the process of distilling, the crude turpentnie is 
 ^^ dumped" into the boiler through an opening in the 
 top— the same as that on which we saw Junius com- 
 posedly seated— water is then poured upon it, the aper- 
 ture made tight by screwing down the cover and pack- 
 ing it with clay, a fire built underneath, and when the 
 he'at reaches several hundred degrees Fahrenheit, the 
 process of manufacture begins. The volatile and more 
 valuable part of the turpentine, by the action of the 
 heat, rises as vapor, then condensing flows off through 
 a pipe in the top of the still, and comes out spirits of 
 turpentine, while the heavier portion finds vent at a 
 lower aperture, and comes out rosin. 
 
 No article of conunerce is so liable to waste and leak- 
 acre as turpentine. The spirits can only be preserved in 
 tin cans, or in thoroughly seasoned oak barrels, made 
 tight by a coating of glue on the inner side. Though 
 the material for these barrels exists at the South m lux- 
 uriant abundance, they are all procured from the >orth, 
 and the closin- of the Southern ports has now entirely 
 cut off the supply; for while the turpentine farmer may 
 improvise coopers, he can by no process give the oak 
 timber the seasoning which is needed to render the bar- 
 rel spirit-ti-ht. Hence it is certain that a large portion 
 of the last crop of turpentine must have gone to waste 
 When it is remembered that the one State of ^orth 
 Carolina exports annually nearly twenty millions m 
 
104 AMONG THE PINES. 
 
 value of this product, and employs fully two-thirds of 
 its negroes in its production, it will be seen how dearly 
 the South is paying for the mad freak of secession. Put- 
 ting out of view his actual loss of produce, how does the 
 turpentine farmer feed and employ his negroes ? and 
 pressed as these blacks inevitably are by both hunger 
 and idleness, those prolific breeders of sedition, what 
 will keep them quiet ? 
 
 " What effect will secession have on your business ?" 
 I asked the Colonel, after a while. 
 
 "A favorable one. I shall ship my crop direct to Liv- 
 erpool and London, instead of selhng it to Xew York 
 middle-men." 
 
 " But is not the larger portion of the turpentine crop 
 consumed at the Xorth?" 
 
 "Oh, yes. We shall have to deal with the Yankees 
 anyhow, but we shall do as httle with them as possible." 
 
 "Suppose the Yankees object to your setting up 
 by yourselves, and put your ports under lock and 
 key?" 
 
 "They wont do that, and if they do, England will 
 break the blockade." 
 
 "We may rap John Bull over the knuckles in that 
 event," I replied. 
 
 "Well, suppose you do ; what then?" 
 
 "Merely, England would not have a ship in six months 
 to carry your cotton. A war. with her would ruin the 
 shipping trade of the Xorth. Our marine would seek 
 employment at privateering, and soon sweep every 
 
ON THE PLANTATION. 106 
 
 British merchant ship from the ocean. We could afford 
 to give up ten years' trade with you, and to put seces- 
 sion down by force, for the sake of a year's brush with 
 Jolm Bull." 
 
 " But, my good friend, where would the British navy 
 be all this while ?" 
 
 "Asleep. The English haven't a steamer that can 
 catch a Brookhaven schooner. The last war proved 
 that government vessels are no match for privateers." 
 
 " Well, well ! but the Yankees wont fight." 
 
 " Suppose they do. Suppose they shut up your ports, 
 and leave you with your cotton and turpentine unsold ? 
 You raise scarcely any thing else — what would you 
 eat ?" 
 
 " We would turn our cotton, fields into corn and 
 wheat. Turpentine-makers, of course, would suffer." 
 
 " Then why are not you a Union man ?" 
 
 "My friend, 1/ have nearly three hundred mouths to 
 feed. I depend on the sale of my crop to give them food. 
 If our ports are closed, I cannot do it — they will starve, 
 and I be ruined. But sooner than submit to the dom- 
 ination of the cursed Yankees, I will see my negroes 
 starving, and my child a beggar !" 
 
 At this point in the conversation we arrived at the 
 negro shanty where the sick child was. Dismounting, 
 the Colonel and I entered. 
 
 The cabin was almost a counterpart of the "Mills 
 House," described in the previous chapter, but it had a 
 plank flooring, and was scrupulously neat and clean. 
 
106 AMOXG THE PINES. 
 
 The logs were stripped of bark, and whitewashed. A 
 bright, cheerful fire was blazing on the hearth, and an 
 air of rude comfort pervaded the whole interior. On a 
 low bed in the farther corner of the room lay the sick 
 child. He was a boy of about twelve years, and evi- 
 dently in the last stages of consumption. By his side, 
 bendhig over him as if to catch his almost inaudible 
 words, sat a tidy, youthful-looking colored woman, his 
 mother, and the wife of the negro we had met at the 
 " still." Playing on the floor, was a younger child, per- 
 haps five years old, but while the faces of the mother 
 and the sick lad were of the hue of charcoal, /lis skin 
 by a process well understood at the South, had been 
 bleached to a bright yellow. 
 
 The woman took no notice of our entrance, but the 
 little fellow ran to the Colonel and caught hold of the 
 skirts of his coat in a free-and-easy way, saying, " Olai 
 massa, you got suffin' for Dicky ?" 
 
 " Xo, you little nig," replied the Colonel, patting his 
 woolly head as I might have done a white child's, 
 " Dicky isn't a good boy." 
 
 " Yas, I is," said the little darky ; " you'se ugly ole 
 massa to gib nuffin' to Dick." 
 
 Aroused by the Colonel's voice, the woman turned 
 toward us. Her eyes were swollen, and her face bore 
 traces of deep emotion. 
 
 " Oh massa !" she said, " de chile am dyin' ! It'm all 
 along ob his workin' in de swamp — no 7nan orter work 
 dar, let alone a chile like dis." 
 
ON THE PLANTATION. 107 
 
 "Do you think he is dying, Rosy?" asked the Colonel, 
 approaching the bed-side. 
 
 '' Shore, m.issa, he'm gwine fass. Look at 'im." 
 
 The boy had dwindled to a skeleton, and the skm lay 
 on his face in crimpled folds, like a mass of black crape- 
 His eyes were tixed, and he was evidently gomg. 
 
 " Don't you know massa, my boy ?" said the Colonel, 
 taking his hand tenderly in his. 
 
 The child's lips sUghtly moved, but I could hear no 
 sound. The Colonel put his ear down to him for a mo- 
 ment, then, turning to me, said : 
 
 " He is dying. AVill you be so good as to step to the 
 
 house and ask Madam P here, and please tell Jun to 
 
 go for Junius and the old man." 
 
 I returned in a short while with tlie lady, but foimd 
 the boy's father and '' tlie old man"— the darky preacher 
 of the plantation— there before us. Tlie preacher was a 
 venerable old negro, much bowed by years, and with 
 thin wool as white as snow. When we entered, he was 
 bending over the dying boy, but shortly turning to my 
 host, said : 
 
 "Massa, de blessed Lord am callin' for de chile — 
 
 shall we pray ?" 
 
 The Colonel nodded assent, and we all, blacks and 
 whites, knelt down on the floor, while the old preacher 
 made a short, heart-touching prayer. It was a simple, 
 humble acknowledgment of the dependence of the crea- 
 ture oft the Creator— of His right to give and to take 
 awav, and was uttered m a free, conversational tone, as 
 
108 AMONG THE PENES. 
 
 if long communion with his Maker had placed the old 
 negro on a footing of friendly familiarity with Him, and 
 given the black slave the right to talk with the Deity as 
 one man talks with another. 
 
 As we rose from our knees my host said to me, " It is 
 ^ny duty to stay here, but I will not detain you. Jim 
 will show you over the plantation. I will join you at 
 the house when this is over." The scene was a painful 
 one, and I gladly availed myself of the Colonel's sug- 
 gestion. 
 
 Mounting our horses, Jim and I rode off to the negro 
 house where Scip was staying. 
 
 Scip was not at the cabin, and the old negro woman 
 told us he had been away for several hours. 
 
 " Reckon he'll be 'way all day, sar," said Jim, as we 
 turned our horses to go. 
 
 '• He ought to be resting against the ride of to-mor- 
 row. Where has he gone ?" 
 
 " Dunno, sar, but reckon he'm gwine to fine Sam." 
 
 " Sam ? Oh, he's the runaway the Colonel has adver- 
 tised." 
 
 " Yas, sar, he'm 'way now more'n a monfh." 
 
 " How can Scip find him ?" 
 
 " Dunno, sar. Scipio know most ebery ting — reckon 
 he'll track him. He know him well, and Sam'U cum 
 back ef he say he orter." 
 
 " ^^here do you think Sam is ?" 
 
 "P'raps in de swamp." * 
 
 " Where is the swamp ?" ^ 
 
ON THE PLANTATION. 
 
 109 
 
 " 'Bout ten mile from har." 
 
 *' Oh, yes ! the shingles are cut there. I should think 
 a runaway would be discovered where so many men are 
 
 at w^ork." 
 
 "No, massa, dar'm places dar whar de ole debble 
 cudn't line him, nor de dogs nudder." 
 
 "I thought the bloodhounds would track a man any- 
 where." 
 
 " Xot fru de water, massa ; dey lose de scent in de 
 
 swamp." 
 
 " But how can a man live there— how get food ?" 
 
 " De darkies dat work dar take 'em nuff." 
 
 " Then the other negroes know where the runaways 
 
 are ; don't they sometimes betray them ?" 
 
 " Xeber, massa ; a darky neber tells on anoder. De 
 
 Gunnel had a boy in dat swamp once good many 
 
 lyears." 
 
 " Is it possible ! Did he come back ?" 
 
 "No, he died dar. Sam ob de hands found hira 
 dead one mornin' in de hut whar he lib'd, and buried 
 him dar." 
 
 " Why did Sam run away ?" 
 
 "'Cause de oberseer flog him. He use him bery 
 hard, massa." 
 
 " What had Sam done ?" 
 
 " Xuffin, massa." 
 
 " Tlien why was he flogged ? Did the Colonel know 
 
 it ?" 
 
 " Oh, yas ; Moye cum de possum ober de Cunnel, and 
 
110 AMONG THE PINES. 
 
 make him b'lieve Sara war bad. De Cunnel dunno de 
 Imll ob dat story." 
 
 "Why didn't you tell him? The Colonel trusts 
 youP 
 
 '^ 'T wudn't hab dun no good ; de Cunnel wud hab 
 flogged me for tellhi' on a wite man. Xigga's word 
 aint ob no account." 
 
 " What is the story about, Sara ?" 
 "You wont tell dat Ztole you, massa ?" 
 " No, but I'll tell the Colonel the truth." 
 " Wal den, sar, you see Sam's wife am bery good- 
 lookin', her skin's most wite — her mudder war a mulat- 
 ter, her fader a wite man — she lub'd Sara 'bout as well 
 as de wimmin giurally lub dar husbands" (Jira was a 
 bachelor, and his observation of plantation morals had 
 given him but little faith in the sex), " but most ob 'em, 
 ef dey'm married or no, tink dey must smile on de wite < 
 men, so Jule she smiled on de oberseer — so Sam tought 
 — and it made him bery jealous. He war sort o' sassy, 
 and de oberseer strung him up, and flog him bery hard. 
 Den Sam took to de swarap, but he didn't know whar 
 to gwo, and de dogs tracked him ; he'd ha' got 'way 
 dough ef ole Moye hadn't a shot him ; den he cudn't 
 run. Den Moye flogged him till he war 'most dead, 
 and arter dat chained him down in de ole cabm, and 
 gave him 'most nufiin' to eat. De Cunnel war gwine to 
 take Sam to Charles'on and s'ell him, but somehow he 
 got a file and sawed fru de chain and got 'way in de 
 night to de ' still.' Den when de oberseer come dar in 
 
ON THE PLANTATION. Ill 
 
 de mornin', Sam jump on him ami 'most kill him. IleM 
 hab sent liim whar dar aint no ni<i:gas, ef Junius hadn't 
 a holed him. Fd a let de ole debble gwo." 
 
 " Junius, then, is a friend of the overseer." 
 
 " No, sar ; he haint no friends, 'cep de debble ; but 
 June am a good nigga, and he said 'twarn't riglit to kiU 
 ole Moye so sudden, for den dar'd be no chance for de 
 Lord to forgib him." 
 
 " Then Sam got away again ?" 
 
 " Oil yas ; nary one but darkies war round, and dey 
 wouldn't hole him. Ef dey'd cotched him den, dey'd 
 hung him, shore." 
 
 " Why hung him ?" 
 
 "'Cause he'd struck a wite man; it 'm shore death to 
 do dat." 
 
 "Do you think Scip will bring him back?" 
 
 " Yas ; 'cause he'm gwine to tell massa de hull story. 
 De Gunnel will b'lieve Scipio ef he am brack. Sam'll 
 know dat, so he'll come back. De Cunnel'll make de 
 State too hot to hoi" ole Moye, when he fine him out." 
 
 "Does Sam's wife; 'smile' on the overseer now?" 
 
 "No; she see de trubble she bring on Sam, and she 
 bery sorry. She t\ ont look at a wite man now." 
 
 During the foregoing conversation, we had ridden for 
 several miles over the western half of the plantation, 
 and were again near the house. My limbs being de- 
 cidedly stiff and sore from the effect of the previous 
 day's journey, I <\ cided to alight and rest mitil the 
 hour for dinner. 
 
112 AMONG THE PINES. 
 
 I mentioned my jaded condition to Jim, who said: 
 
 " Dat's right, massa ; come in de house. I'll cure de 
 rumatics ; I knows how to fix dem." 
 
 Fastening the horses at the door, Jim accompanied 
 me to my sleeping-room, where he lighted a fire of pine 
 knots, which in a moment blazed up on the hearth and 
 sent a cheerful glow through the apartment; then, say- 
 ing he would return after stabling the horses, the darky 
 left me. 
 
 I took off my boots, drew the sofa near the fire, and 
 stretched myself at full length upon it. If ever mortal 
 was tired, "I reckon" I was. It seemed as though every 
 joint and bone in my body had lost the power of motion, 
 and sharp, acute pains danced along my nerves, as I have 
 seen the lightning play along the telegraph wires. My 
 entire system.had the toothache. 
 
 Jim soon returned, bearing in one hand a decanter of 
 " Otard," and in the other a mug of hot water and a 
 crash towel. 
 
 " I'se got de stuff dat'll fix de rumatics, massa." 
 
 " Thank you, Jim; a glass will do me good. "V\"here 
 did you get it ?" I asked, thinking it strange the Colonel 
 should leave his brandy-bottle within reach of the 
 negroes, who have an universal weakness for spirits. 
 
 "Oh, I keeps de keys; de Cunnel hissef hab to come 
 to me when he want suffin' to warm hissef" 
 
 It was the fact ; Jim had exclusive charge of the wine- 
 cellar; in short, was butler, barber, porter, footman, and 
 body-servant, all combined. 
 
ON THE PLANTATION. 
 
 113 
 
 "Now, massa, you lay right whar yon is, and I'll 
 make you ober new in less dan no time." 
 
 And he did ; but I emptied the brandy-bottle. Lest 
 my temperance friends should be horror-stricken, I will 
 mention, however, that I took the fluid by external ab- 
 sorption. For all rheumatic suflerers, I would prescribe 
 hot brandy, in plentiful doses, a coarse towel, and an 
 active Southern darky, and if on the first appUcation the 
 patient is not cured, the fimlt will not be the negro's. 
 Out of mercy to the chivalry, I hope our government, 
 in saving the Union, will not annihilate the order of 
 body-servants. They are the only perfect institution in 
 the Southern country, and, so far as I have seen, about 
 the only one worth saving. 
 
 The dinner-bell sounded a short while after Jim had 
 finished the scrubbing operation, and I went to the table 
 with an appetite I had not felt for a week. 3Iy whole 
 system was rejuvenated, and I am not sure that I should, 
 at that moment, have decUned a wrestling match with 
 Heenan himself. 
 
 I found at dinner only the overseer and the young s®n 
 
 of Madam P , the Colonel and the lady being still at 
 
 the cabin of the dying boy. Tlie dinner, though a queer 
 mixture of viands, would not have disgraced, except, 
 perhaps, in the cooking, the best of our Northern hotels. 
 Venison, bacon, wild fowl, hominy, poultry, corn bread, 
 French "made-dishes," and Southern "common doin's," 
 with wines and brandies of the choicest brands, were 
 placed on the table together. 
 
114 AMONG THE PINES. 
 
 "Dis, massa," said Jim, "am cle raal jnice; it hab l)ccn 
 in de cellar eber since de house war built. Massa tola 
 me to gib you some, Avid him complimen's." 
 
 Passing it to my companions, I drank the Colonel's 
 health in as fine wine as I ever tasted. 
 
 I had taken an instinctive dislike to the overseer at 
 the breakfast-table, and my aversion was not lessened 
 by learning his treatment of Sam; curiosity to know 
 what manner of man he was, however, led me, toward 
 the close of our meal, to "draw him out," as follows: 
 
 "What is the political sentiment, sir, of this section 
 of the State?" 
 
 "Wal, I reckon most of the folks 'bout bar' is Union; 
 they'm from the 'old North,' and gin'rally pore trash." 
 
 "I have heard that the majority of the turpentine- 
 farmers are enterprising men and good citizens — more 
 enterprising, even, than the cotton and rice planters." 
 
 "Wal, they is enterprisiu', 'cause they don't keer for 
 nuthin' 'cep' money." 
 
 "The man who is absorbed in money-getting is gen- 
 erally a quiet citizen." 
 
 "P'raps that's so. But I think a man sh'u'd hev a 
 soul suthin' 'bove dollars. Them folks will take any 
 sort o' sarce from the Yankees, ef they'll only buy thar 
 truck." 
 
 "What do you suffer from the Yankees?" 
 
 "Suffer from the Yankees? Don't they steal our 
 niggers, and haint they 'lected an ab'lishener for Presi- 
 dent?" " . 
 
ON THE PLANTATION. 115 
 
 " I've been at the Xorth lately, but I am not aware 
 that is so." 
 
 "So! it's damnably so, sir. I knows it. We don't 
 mean to stand it eny longer." 
 
 "What will you do?" 
 
 "We'll jiive 'em h— 1, ef they want it!" 
 
 "Will it not be necessary to agree among yourselves 
 before you do that ? I met a turpentine farmer below 
 here who openly declared that he is friendly to abolish- 
 ing slavery. He thinks the masters can make more 
 money by hiring than by owning the negroes." 
 
 "Yes, that's the talk of them Xorth County* fellers, 
 who've squatted round har. We'll hang every mother's 
 son on 'em, by ." 
 
 "I wouldn't do that: in a free country every man has 
 a right to his opinions." 
 
 "Xot to sech opinions as them. A man may think, 
 but he mustn't think onraasonable." 
 
 " I don't know, but it seems to me reasonable, that if 
 
 * The "North Counties" are the north-eastern portion of North Carolina, and 
 include the towns of Washington and Newbern. They are an old turpentine 
 region, and the trees are nearly exhausted. The finer virgin forests of South 
 Carolina, and other cotton States, have tempted many of the North County 
 farmers to emigrate thither, within the jiast ten years, and they now own nearly 
 all the trees that are worked in South Carolin;i, Georgi.i, and Florida. They gen- 
 erally have few slaves of their own. their hands being hired of wealthier men in 
 their native districts. The "hiring" is an annual operation, and is done at Christ- 
 mas time, when the negroes are frequently allowed to go home. They treat the 
 slaves well, give them an allowance .>f meat (salt pork or beef), as much corn as 
 they can eat antl a gill of whiskey daily. No class of men at the South are so 
 IndustriDUS. energetic, and enterprising. Though not so well informed, they have 
 many of the traits of our New England fanners; in fact, are frequently called 
 "North Carolina Yankees." It was these people the overseer proposed to hang. 
 The reader will doubtless think that " hanging was not good enough for them." 
 
116 AMONG THE PINES. 
 
 the negroes cost these farmers now one hundred and 
 fifty dollars a year, and they could hire them, if free, for 
 sev^enty-five or a hundred, that they would make by 
 abolition." 
 
 "Ablish'n! By — , sir, ye aint an ab'lishener, is ye?" 
 exclaimed the fellow, in an excited manner, bringing his 
 hand down on the table in a way that set the crockery 
 a-dancing. 
 
 " Come, come, my friend," I repHed, in a mild tone, 
 and as unruffled as a pool of water that has been out of 
 a December night ; " you^ll knock off the dinner things, 
 and I'm not quite through." 
 
 " Wal, sir, I've heerd yer from the Xorth, and I'd like 
 to know if yer an ab'lishener." 
 
 "My dear sir, you surprise me. You certainly can't 
 expect a modest man Hke me to speak of himself." 
 
 "Ye can speak of what ye d — please, but ye can't 
 talk ab'hsh'n har, by — ," he said, again applying his 
 hand to the table, till the plates and saucers jumped up, 
 performed several jigs, then several reels, and then rolled 
 over in graceful somersaults to the floor. 
 
 At this juncture, the Colonel and Madam P 
 
 entered. 
 
 Observing the fall in his crockery, and the general 
 confusion of thmgs, my host quietly asked, "What's 
 to pay ?" 
 
 I said nothing, but burst into a fit of laughter at the 
 awkward predicament of the overseer. That gentleman 
 also said nothing, but looked as if he Avould hke to find 
 
ON THE PLANTATION. 117 
 
 vent through a rat-hole or a window-pane. Jim, how- 
 ever, wlio stood at the back of my chair, gave his elo- 
 quent thoughts utterance, very much as follows : 
 
 " Moye hab 'suited Massa K , Gunnel, awful bad. 
 
 lie hab swore a blue streak at Mm, and called him a 
 
 d — ab'lishener, jess 'cause Massa K wudn't get mad 
 
 and sass him back. He hab disgrace your hosspital, 
 Gunnel, wuss dan a nigga." 
 
 The Golonel turned white with rage, and striding up 
 to Moye, seized Mm by the throat, yelling, rather than 
 
 speaking, these words : " You d 
 
 , have you dared to insult a guest in my house?" 
 
 *' I did'nt mean to 'suit Mm," faltered out the overseer, 
 his voice running through an entire octave, and chang- 
 ing with the varying pressure of the Colonel's fingers 
 on Ms throat ; " but he said he war an ab'lishener." 
 
 *' Xo matter what he said, he is my guest, and in my 
 house he shall say what he pleases, by — . Apologize to 
 him, or I'll send you to h — in a second." 
 
 The fellow turned cringingly to me, and ground out 
 something like this, every word seeming to give him the 
 face-ache : 
 
 " I meant no offence, sar ; I hope ye'll excuse me." 
 
 This satisfied me, but, before I could reply, the Colonel 
 again seized him by the throat and yelled : 
 
 "Xone of your sulkmess; you d — white-livered hound, 
 ask the gentleman's pardon like a man." 
 
 The fellow then got out, with less effort than before : 
 
 " I 'umbly ax yer pardon, sar, very 'umbly, indeed." 
 
lis 
 
 AMONG THE PINES. 
 
 " I am satisfied, sir," I replied. " I bear you no iii- 
 will." 
 
 " Now go," said the Colonel ; " and in future take 
 your meals in your cabin. I have none but gentlemen 
 at my table." 
 
 The fellow went. As soon as he closed the door, the 
 Colonel said to me : 
 
 " Now, my dear friend, I hope you will pardon me for 
 this occurrence. I sincerely regret you have been in- 
 sulted in my house." 
 
 " Don't speak of it, my dear sir ; the fellow is igno- 
 rant, and really thinks I am an aboUtionist. His zeal 
 in politics led to his warmth. I blame him very lit- 
 tle," I replied. 
 
 "But he lied, Massa K ," chimed in Jim, veiy 
 
 warmly ; " you neber said you war an ab'lishener." 
 
 " You know what they are, Jim, don't you ?" said the 
 Colonel, laughing, and taking no notice of his breach of 
 decorum in wedging black ideas into a white conver- 
 sation. 
 
 " Yas, I does dat," said the darky, grinning. 
 
 " Jim," said his master, " you're a prince of a nigger, 
 but you talk too much ; ask me for something to-day, and 
 I reckon you'll get it ; but go now, and tell Chloe (the 
 cook) to get us some dinner." 
 
 The negro left, and, excusing myself, I soon followed 
 suit. 
 
 I went to my room, laid down on the lounge, and soon 
 fell asleep. It was nearly five o'clock when a shght 
 
ON THE PLANTATION. 119 
 
 noise in the apartment awoke me, and, looking np, I 
 saw the Colonel quietly seated by the fire, smoking a 
 cigar. His feet were elevated above his head, and he 
 appeared absorbed in no very pleasant reflections. 
 
 " How is the sick boy. Colonel ?" I asked. 
 
 " It's all over with him, my friend. He died easy ; 
 but 'twas very painful to me, I feel I have done Mm 
 w^rong." 
 
 ''How so ?" 
 
 " I was away all summer, and that cursed Moye sent 
 him to the swamp to tote for the shinglers. It killed 
 him." 
 
 " Then you arc not to blame," I repUed. 
 
 " I wish I could feel so." 
 
 The Colonel remained witli me till supper-time, evi- 
 dently much depressed by the events of the morning, 
 which had affected him more than I should have thought 
 possible. I endeavored, by directing his mind to other 
 topics, to cheer him, and in a measure succeeded. 
 
 While we were seated at the supper table, the black 
 cook entered from the kitchen — a one-story shanty, de- 
 tached from, and in the rear of the house — and, with a 
 face expressive of every conceivable emotion a negro can 
 feel — joy, sorrow, wonder, and fear all combined — ex- 
 claimed, *' O massa, massa ! dear massa ! Sam, O Sam !" 
 
 "Sam!" said the Colonel ; " what about Sam ?" 
 
 " Why, he hab — dear, dear massa, don't yer, don't yer 
 hurt him — he hab come back !" 
 
 If a bombshell had fallen in the room, a greater sen- 
 
120 AMONG THE PINP:S. 
 
 sation could not have been produced.- Every individual 
 arose from the table, and the Colonel, striding up and 
 down the apartment, exclaimed : 
 
 " Is he mad ? The everlasting fool ! Why in h — has 
 he come back ?" 
 
 ^ " Oh, don't ye hurt him massa," said the black cook, 
 wringing her hands. " Sam hab been bad, bery bad, but 
 he won't be so no more." 
 
 *' Stop your noi^e, aunty," said the Colonel, but with no 
 harshness in his tone. " I shall do what I think right." 
 
 " Send for him, David," said Madame P ; " let us 
 
 hear what he has to say. He would not come back if he 
 meant to be ugly." 
 
 " Send for him, Ahce !" replied my host. " He's 
 prouder than Lucifer, and would send me word to come 
 to him. I will go. Will you accompany me, Mr. 
 
 K ? You'll hear what a runaway nigger thinks of 
 
 slavery : Sam has the gift of sj^eech, and uses it regard- 
 less of persons." 
 
 " Yes, sir, I'll go with pleasure." 
 
 It was about an hour after nightfall when we emerged 
 from the door of the mansion and took our way to the 
 negro quarters. The full moon had risen half way above 
 the horizon, and the dark pines cast their shadows 
 around the little collection of negro huts, which strag- 
 gled about through the woods for the distance of a third 
 of a mile. It was dark, but I could distinguish the fig- 
 ure of a man striding along at a rapid pace a few hun- 
 dred yards in advance of us. 
 
ON TflE PLANTATION. 121 
 
 " Is'nt that Moyc ?" I asked the Colonel, directing his 
 attention to the receding figure. 
 
 " I reckon so ; that's his gait. lie's had a lesson to- 
 day that'll do him good." 
 
 " I don't like that man's looks," I replied, carelessly ; 
 " but I've heard of singed cats." 
 
 " He is a sneaking d — 1," said the Colonel ; " but he's 
 very valuable to me. I never had an overseer who got 
 so much work out of the hands." 
 
 '-'• Is he severe with them ?" 
 
 " Well, I reckon he is ; but a nigger is like a dog — 
 you must flog him to make him like you." 
 
 " I judge your niggers haven't been flogged into liking 
 Moye." 
 
 " Why, have you heard any of them speak of him ?" 
 
 " Yes ; though, of course, I've made no efibrt to draw 
 gossip from them. I had to hear." 
 
 " O yes ; I know ; there's no end to their gabble ; nig- 
 gers will talk. But what have you heard ?" 
 
 " That Moye is to blame in this afiair of Sam, and that 
 you don't know the whole story." 
 
 " What is the whole story ?" he asked, stopping short ; 
 in the road ; " tell me before I see Sam." 
 
 I then told him what Jim had recounted to me. He 
 heard me through attentively, then laughingly exclaimed: 
 
 " Is that all ! Lord bless you, he didn't seduce her. 
 
 There's no seducing these women; with them it's a 
 
 thing of course. It was Sam's d — high blood that made 
 
 the trouble. His father was the proudest man in Vir- 
 
 G 
 
122 AMONG THE PINES. 
 
 ginia, and Sam is as like him as a nigger can be like a 
 white man." 
 
 " No matter what the blood is, it seems to me such an 
 injury justifies revenge." 
 
 " Pshaw, my good fellow, you don't know these peo- 
 ple. I'll stake my plantation against a glass of whiskey 
 there's not a yirtuous woman with a drop of black blood 
 in her yeins in all South Carolina. They prefer the white 
 men ; their husbands know it, and take it as a matter of 
 course." 
 
 We had here reached the negro cabin. It was one of 
 the more remote of the collection, and stood deep in the 
 woods, an enormous pine growing up directly beside 
 the doorway. In all respects it was like the other huts 
 on the plantation. A bright fire lit up its interior, and 
 through the crevices in the logs we saw, as we ap- 
 proached, a scene that made us pause involuntarily, 
 • when within a few rods of the house. The mulatto man, 
 whose clothes were torn and smeared with swamp mud, 
 stood near the fire. On a small pine table near hun lay 
 a large carving-knife, which glittered m the blaze, as if 
 ^recently sharpened. His wife was seated on the side of 
 the low bed at his back, weeping. She was two or three 
 shades lighter than the man, and had the peculiar brown, 
 kinky hair, straight, flat nose, and speckled, gray eyes 
 which mark the metif. Tottling on the floor at the feet 
 of the man, and caressing his knees, was a child of per- 
 haps two years. 
 
 As we neared the house, we heard the voice of the 
 
ON THE PLANTATION. 123 
 
 overseer issuing from the doorway on the other side of 
 the pine-tree. 
 
 " Come out, ye black rascal." 
 
 " Come in, you wite hound, ef you dar," responded 
 the negro, laying his hand on the carving-knife. 
 
 "Come out, I till ye; I sha'n't ax ye agin." 
 
 "I'll hab nuffin' to do wid you. G'way and send 
 your massa har," replied the mulatto man, turning his 
 face away with a lordly, contemptuous gesture, that 
 spoke him a true descendant of Pocahontas. This move- 
 ment exposed his left side to the doorway, outside of 
 which, hidden from us by the tree, stood the overseer. 
 
 "Come away, Moye," said the Colonel, advancing 
 with me toward the door ; " Til speak to him." 
 
 Before all of the words had escaped the Colonel's lips, 
 a streak of fire flashed from where the overseer stood, 
 and took the direction of the negro. One long, wild 
 shriek — one quick, convulsive bound in the air — and 
 Sam fell lifeless to the floor, the dark life-stream pouring 
 from his side. The little child also fell with him, and 
 its greasy, grayish shirt was dyed with its father's blood. 
 Moye, at the distance of ten feet, had discharged the 
 two barrels of a heavily-loaded shot-gun directly through 
 the negro's heart. 
 
 "You incarnate son of h — ," yelled the Colonel, as he 
 sprang on the overseer, bore him to the ground, and 
 wrenched the shot-gun from his hand. Clubbing the 
 weapon, he raised it to brain him. The movement oc- 
 cupied but a second ; the gim was descending, and in 
 
124 AMONG THE PINES. 
 
 another instant Moye would have met Sam in eternity, 
 had not a brawny arm caught the Colonel's, and, wind- 
 ing itself around his body, pinned his limbs to his side 
 so that motion was impossible. Tlie woman, half frantic 
 with excitement, thrust open the door when her hus- 
 band fell, and the hght which came through it revealed 
 the face of the new-comer. But his voice, which rang 
 out on the night air as clear as a bugle, had there been 
 no light, would have betrayed him. It was Scip. Spum- 
 ing the prostrate overseer with his foot, he shouted ; 
 
 "Run, you wite debble, run for your life I" 
 
 "Let me go, you black scoundrel,'' shrieked the Col- 
 onel, wild with rage. 
 
 "When he'm out ob reach, you'd kill him," replied 
 the negro, as cool as if he was doing an ordinary thing. 
 
 " I'll kill you, you black — hound, if you don't let me 
 go," again screamed the Colonel, struggling violently in 
 the negro's grasp, and literally foaming at the mouth. 
 
 " I shan't lef you gwo, Cunnel, till you 'gree not to 
 do dat." 
 
 The Colonel was a stout, athletic man, in the very 
 prime of life, and his rage gave him more than his ordi- 
 nary strength, but Scip held him as I might have held a 
 child. 
 
 " Here, Jim," shouted the Colonel to his body-sei-vant, 
 who just then emerged from among the trees, "'rouse 
 the plantation — shoot this d — nigger." 
 
 " Dar aint one on 'em wud touch him, massa. He'd 
 send me to de debble wid one fist." 
 
ON THE PLANTATION. 125 
 
 " You ungrateful clog," groaned his master. " Mr. 
 
 K , will you stand by and see me handcuffed by a 
 
 miserable slave ?" 
 
 " The black means well, my friend ; he has saved you 
 from murder. Say he is safe, and I'll answer for his 
 being away in an hour." 
 
 The Colonel made one more ineffectual attempt to free 
 himself from the vice-like grip of the negro, then relax- 
 ing his efforts, and, gathering hi^ broken breath, he said, 
 "You're safe ^loic^ but if you're found within ten miles 
 of my plantation by sunrise, by — you're a dead man." 
 
 The negro relinquished his hold, and, without saying 
 a word, walked slowly away. 
 
 '^ Jim, you — rascal," said the Colonel to that courage- 
 ous darky, who w^as skulking off, " raise every nigger 
 on the plantation, catch Moye, or I'll flog you within an 
 inch of your life." 
 
 " I'll do dat, Cunnel ; I'll kotch de ole debble, ef he's 
 dis side de hot place." 
 
 His words were echoed by about twenty other darkies, 
 who, attracted by the noise of the fracas, had gathered 
 within a safe distance of the cabin. They went off with 
 Jim, to raise the other plantation hands, and inaugurate 
 the hunt. 
 
 " If that — nigger hadn't held me, I'd had Moye in 
 — by this time," said the Colonel to me, still livid with 
 excitement. 
 
 " The law will deal with him, ray friend. The negro 
 has saved you from murder." 
 
126 A3I0NG THE PINES. 
 
 " The law be d — ; it's too good for such a — hound ; 
 and that the d — nigger should have dared to hold me — 
 by — he'll rue it." 
 
 He then turned, exhausted with the recent struggle, 
 and, with a weak, uncertain step, entered the cabin. 
 Kneeling down by the dead body of the negro, he at- 
 tempted to raise it; but his strength was gone. He 
 motioned to me to aid him, and we placed the corpse on 
 the bed. Tearing open the clothing, we wiped away 
 the still flowing blood, and saw the terrible wound which 
 had sent the negro to his account. It was sickening to 
 look on, and I turned to go. 
 
 The negro woman, who was weeping and wringing 
 her hands, now approached, and, in a voice nearly choked 
 with sobs, said : 
 
 " Massa, oh massa, I done it ! it's me dat killed him !" 
 
 " I know you did, you d . Get out of my sight." 
 
 "Oh, massa," sobbed the woman, falling on her knees, 
 " I'se so sorry ; oh, forgib me !" 
 
 " Go to — , you , that's the place for you," said 
 
 the Colonel, striking the kneeling woman with his foot, 
 and felling her to the floor. 
 
 Unwilling to see or hear more, I left the master with 
 the slave. 
 
THE planter's "FAMILY." 12T 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE planter's "FAMILY." 
 
 A QUAKTEr. of a mile through the woods brought 
 me to, the cabin of the old negress where Scip lodged. 
 I rapped at the door, and was admitted by the old wo- 
 man. Scip, nearly asleep, was lying on a pile of blan- 
 kets in the corner. 
 
 "Are you mad?" I said to him. "The Colonel^ is 
 frantic with rage, and swears he will kiU you. You 
 must be ofl' at once." 
 
 "Xo, no, massa; neber fear; I knows him. He'd 
 keep his word, ef he loss his life by it. I'm gwme afore 
 sunrise ; till den I'm safe." 
 
 " Der ye tink Massa Davy wud broke his word, sar ?" 
 said the old negress, bridling up her bent form, and speak- 
 ing in a tone in which mdignation mmgled with wound- 
 ed^difrnity; "p'raps gemmen do dat at de ISTorf— dey 
 neber does it har." 
 
 " Excuse me, Aunty; I know your master is a man of 
 honor ; but he's very much excited, and very angry with 
 
 Scip." 
 
 "No matter for dat, sar; Massa Davy neber done a 
 
 mean ting sense he war born." 
 
 " Massa K tinks a heap ob de Cunnel, Aunty; but 
 
128 AMONG THE PINES. 
 
 he reckon he'm sort o' crazy now ; dat make him 
 afeard," said Scip, in an apologetic tone." 
 
 "AYhat ef he am crazy? You'se safe /<ar," rejoined 
 the old woman, dropping her aged limbs into a chair, 
 and rocking away with much the air which ancient white 
 ladies occasionally assume. 
 
 " Wont you ax Massa K to a cheer ?" said Scip ; 
 
 " he hab ben bery kine to me." 
 
 The negress then offered me a seat ; but it was some 
 minutes before I rendered myself sufficiently agreeable 
 to thaw out the icy dignity of her manner. Meanwhile 
 I glanced around the apartment. 
 
 Though the exterior of the cabin was like the others 
 on the plantation, the interior had a rude, grotesque ele- 
 gance about it for in advance of any negro hut I had 
 ever seen. The logs were chinked with clay, and the 
 one window, though destitute of glass, and ornamented 
 with the inevitable board-shutter, had a green moreen 
 curtain, which kept out the wind and the rain. A worn 
 but neat and well swept carpet partly covered the floor, 
 and on the low bed was spread a patch-work counter- 
 pane. Agamst the side of the room opposite the door 
 stood an antique, brass-handled bureau, and an old-fash- 
 ioned table, covered with a faded woollen cloth, occu- 
 pied the centre of the apartment. In the corner near 
 the fire was a curiously-contrived sideboard, made of 
 narrow strips of yellow pine,- tongued and grooved to- 
 gether, and oiled so as to bring out the beautiful grain of 
 the wood. On it were several broken and cracked 
 
THE planter's *' family." 129 
 
 glasses, and an array of irregular crockery. The rock- 
 ing chair, in which the old negress passed the most ot 
 her time, was of mahogany, wadded and covered with 
 chintz, and the arm-seat I occupied, though old and 
 patched in many places, had evidently moved in good 
 society. 
 
 The mistress of this second-hand furniture establish- 
 ment was arrayed in a mass of cast-off finery, w^hose 
 gay colors were in striking contrast with her jet-black 
 skin and bent, decrepit form. Her gown, which was 
 very short, was of flaming red and yellow worsted stuff, 
 and the enormous turban that graced her head and hid 
 all but a few^ tufts of her frizzled, "pepper-and-salt" 
 locks, was evidently a contribution from the family stock 
 of worn-out pillow-cases. She was very aged — upward 
 of seventy — and so thin that, had she not been endowed 
 with speech and motion, she might have passed for a bun- 
 dle of whalebone thrown into human shape, and covered 
 with a coating of gutta-percha. It was evident she had 
 been a valued house-servant, whose few remaining years 
 were being soothed and solaced by the kind and indul- 
 gent care of a grateful master. 
 
 Scip, I soon saw, was a favorite Avitli the old negress, 
 and the marked respect he showed me quickly dispelled 
 the angry feeling my doubts of " Massa Davy" had ex- 
 cited, and opened her heart and her mouth at the same 
 moment. She was terribly garrulous; her tongue, as 
 soon as it got under way, ran on as if propelled by ma- 
 chinery and acquainted with the secret of perpetual mo- 
 6* 
 
130 AMONG THE PINES. 
 
 tion; but she was an interesting study. The single- 
 hearted attachment she showed for her master and his 
 family gave me a new insight into the practical working 
 of "the peculiar institution," and convinced me that 
 even slavery, in some of its aspects, is not so black as it 
 is painted. 
 
 When we were seated, I said to Scip, " What induced 
 you to lay hands on the Colonel ? It is death, you 
 know, if he enforces the law." 
 
 " I knows dat, massa ; I knows dat ; but I had to do 
 it. Dat Moye am de ole debble, but de folks round har 
 wud hab turned on de Gunnel, shore, ef he'd killed him. 
 Dey don't like de Gunnel; dey say he'm a stuck-up sesh- 
 ener." 
 
 "The Golonel, then, has befriended you at some 
 time ?" 
 
 " IS'o, no, sar ; 'twarn't dat ; dough I'se know'd him 
 a long w'ile — eber sense my ole massa fotched me from 
 Habana — but 'twarn't dat." 
 
 " Then why did you do it ?" 
 
 The black hesitated a moment, and glanced at the old 
 negress, then said : 
 
 " You see, massa, w'en I fuss come to Gharles'n, a 
 pore little ting, wid no friend iii all de worle, dis ole 
 aunty war a mudder to me. She nussed de Gunnel ; he 
 am jess like her own chile, and I know'd 'twud kill her 
 ef he got hissef enter trubble." 
 
 I noticed certain convulsive twitchings about the cor- 
 ners of the old woman's mouth as she rose from her 
 
THK planter's '' FAMILY." 131 
 
 seat, threw her arms around Scip, and, in words broken 
 by sobs, faltered out : 
 
 " You am my chile ; I loves you better dan Massa 
 Davy — better dan all de worle." 
 
 The scene, had they not been black, would have been 
 one for a painter. 
 
 "You were the Colonel's nurse, Aunty," I said, 
 when she had regained her composure. "Have you 
 always hved with him ?" 
 
 " y as, sar, allers ; I nussed him, and den de chil'ren— 
 
 all ob 'em." 
 
 " All the children ? I thought the Colonel had but 
 
 one — Miss Clara." 
 
 '• Wal, he habn't, massa, only de boys." 
 " What boys ? I never heard he had sons." 
 " Neber heerd of young Massa Davy, nor Massa Tom- 
 my ! Haint you seed Massa Tommy, sar ?" 
 
 "Tommy! I was told he was Madam P 's 
 
 son." 
 
 " So he am ; Massa Davy had her long afore he had 
 
 missus." 
 
 The truth flashed upon me ; but could it be possible? 
 Was I in South Carolina or in Utah ? 
 
 " Who is Madam P ?" I asked. 
 
 The old woman hesitated a moment as if in doubt 
 whether she had not said too much ; but Scip quietly 
 
 replied : 
 
 " She'm jess what aunty am—de CunneVs slave! 
 " His slave ! it can't be possible ; she is white !" 
 
132 AMONG THE I'INES. 
 
 " Xo, massa ; she am brack, and de Gunnel's slave !" 
 Not to weary the reader with a long repetition of 
 negro-English, I will tell in brief what I gleaned from an 
 hour's conversation with the two blacks. 
 
 Madam P was the daughter of Ex-Gov. , 
 
 of Virginia, by a quarteron woman. She was born a 
 slave, but was acknowledged as her father's child, and 
 reared in his family with his legitunate children. When 
 she was ten years old her father died, and his estate 
 proving insolvent^ the land and negroes were brought 
 Tinder the hammer. His daughter, never having been 
 manumitted, was inventoried and sold with the other 
 property. The Colonel, then just of age, and a young 
 man of fortune, bought her and took her to the resi- 
 dence of his mother in Charleston. A governess was 
 provided for her, and a year or two afterward she was 
 taken to the Xorth to be educated. There she was fre- 
 quently visited by the Colonel ; and when fifteen her 
 condition became such that she was obliged to return 
 home. He conveyed her to the plantation, where her 
 elder son, David, was soon after born, "Aunt Lucy" 
 officiating on the occasion. When the child was two 
 years old, leaving it in charge of the aged negress, she 
 accompanied the Colonel to Europe, where they re- 
 mained for a year. Subsequently she passed another 
 year at a Northern semmary ; and then, returning to 
 the homestead, was duly installed as its mistress, and 
 had ever since presided over its domestic affairs. She 
 was kind and good to the negroes, who were greatly 
 
Till-: planter's "family." 133 
 
 attached to her, aii<l nuich of tlie Colonel's wealth was 
 due to her excellent management of the plantation. 
 
 Six years after the birth of " young Massa Davy," 
 the Colonel married his present wife, that lady having 
 full knowledge of his left-handed connection with Mad- 
 am P , and consenting that the " bond-woman" should 
 
 remain on the plantation, as its mistress. The legitimate 
 wife resided, during most of the year, in Charleston, 
 and when at the homestead took little interest in domes- 
 tic matters. On one of her visits to the plantation, 
 twelve years before, her daughter. Miss Clara, was born, 
 
 nnd within a week, under the same roof. Madam P 
 
 presented the Colonel with a son — the lad Thomas, of 
 whom I have spoken. As the mother was slave, the 
 children were so also at birth, but they had been 
 manumitted by their father. One of them was being 
 educated in Germany ; and it was intended that both 
 should spend their lives in that country, the taint in 
 their blood being an insuperable bar to their ever ac- 
 quiring social position at the South. 
 
 As she finished the story, the old woman said, " Massa 
 Davy am bery kind to the missus, sar, but he love de 
 ma'am ; an' he can't help it, 'cause she'm jess so good 
 as de anorels."* 
 
 * Instances are frequent where Southern gentlemen form these left-handed 
 connections, and rear two sets of differently colored children ; but it is not often 
 that the two families occupy the same domicil. The only other case Mithin my 
 perfional knowledge was that of the well-known President of the Bank of St 
 
 M , at Columbus, Ga. That gentleman, whose note ranked in Wall Street, 
 
 when the writer was acquainted with that locality, as " A No. 1," lived for fifteen 
 years with two '•wives" under one roof. One, nn accomplished white woman. 
 
134: AMONG THE PINES. 
 
 I looked at my watch — it was nearly ten o'clock, and 
 I rose to go. As I did so the old negress said : 
 
 " Don't yer gwo, massa, 'fore you hab sum ob aunty's 
 wine ; you'm good friends wid Scip, and I knows yoii'se 
 not too proud to drink wid brack folks, ef you am from 
 de Xorf." 
 
 Being curious to know what quality of wine a planta- 
 tion slave indulged in, I accepted the invitation. She 
 went to the side-board, and brought out a cut-glass de- 
 canter, and three cracked tumblers, which she placed on 
 the table. Filling the glasses to the brim, she passed 
 one to Scip, and one to me, and, with the other in her 
 hand, resumed her seat. Wishing her a good many 
 happy years, and Scip a pleasant journey home, I emp- 
 tied my glass. It was Scuppernong, and the pure juice 
 of the grape ! 
 
 " Aunty," I said, "this wine is as fine as I ever tasted." 
 
 " Oh, yas, massa, it am de raal stuff. I growed de 
 grapes myseff." 
 
 " You grew them?" 
 
 " Yas, sar, an Massa Davy make de wine. He do it 
 ebery yar for de ole nuss." 
 
 and the mother of several children — did the honors of his table, and moved with 
 him in "the best society;" the other — a beautiful quadroon, also the mother of 
 several children — filled the humbler office of nurse to her own and the other" s 
 offspring. 
 
 lu conversation with a well-known Southern gentleman, not long since, I men- 
 tioned these two cases, and commented on them as a man educated with Xew 
 England ideas might be supposed to do. The'gentleman admitted that he knew 
 of twenty such instances, and gravely defended the practice as being infinitely- 
 more moral and respectable than the more common relation existing between 
 masters and slaves. 
 
THE planter's ^'FAMILY." 
 
 135 
 
 " The Colonel is very good. Do you raise any thing 
 
 else?" 
 
 " Yas, I hab coUards and taters, a little corn, and 
 
 most ebery ting." 
 
 ^'But who does your work? Tou certainly can't 
 
 doit?" 
 
 « Oh, de ma'am looks arter dat, sar ; she'm bery good 
 
 to de ole aunty." 
 
 Shaking hands with both the negroes, I left the cabin, 
 fully convinced that all the happiness in this world is 
 not found within plastered apartments. 
 
 The door of the mansion w^as bolted and barred ; but, 
 rapping for admission, I soon heard the Colonel's voice 
 asking, "Who is there?" Giving a satisfactory an- 
 swer, I was admitted. Explaining that he supposed I 
 had retired to my room, he led the way to the li- 
 brary. 
 
 That apartment w^as much more elegantly furnished 
 than the drawing-rooms. Three of its sides were luied 
 with books, and on the centre-table, papers, pamphlets, 
 and manuscripts were scattered in promiscuous confu- 
 sion. In an arm-chair near the fire, Madame P was 
 
 seated, reading. The Colonel's manner was as composed 
 as if nothing had disturbed the usual routine of the 
 plantation ; no trace of the recent terrible excitement 
 was visible ; in fact, had I not been a witness to the late 
 tragedy, I should have thought it incredible that he, 
 ^vithin two hours, had been an actor in a scene which 
 had cost a human being his life. 
 
13G AMONG THE PINKS. 
 
 " Where in creation have you been, my dear fellow?" 
 he asked, as we took our seats. 
 
 '* At old Lucy's cabin, with Scip," I replied. 
 
 " Indeed. I supposed the darky had gone." 
 
 " Xo, he doesn't go till the morning." 
 
 " I told you he wouldn't, David," said Madame P ; 
 
 " now, send for him — make friends with him before he 
 goes." 
 
 " No, Alice, it wont do. I bear him no ill-will, but it 
 wont do. It would be all over the plantation in an hour." 
 
 " No matter for that ; our people would hke ycu the 
 better for it." 
 
 " No, no. I can't do it. I mean him no harm, but I 
 can't do that." 
 
 "He told me why he interfered between you and 
 Moye," I remarked. 
 
 "Why did he?" 
 
 " He says old Lucy, years ago, was a mother to him ; 
 that she is greatly attached to you, and it would kill her 
 if any harm happened to you ; and that your neighbors 
 bear you no good- will, and would have enforced the law 
 had you killed Moye." 
 
 "It is true, David; you would have had to answer 
 for it." 
 
 " Nonsense ! what influence could this North County 
 scum have against me .^" 
 
 " Perhaps none. But that makes no difference ; Scipio 
 did right, and you should tell him you forgive him." 
 
 The Colonel then rans: a small bell, and a neofro wo- 
 
THE planter's "fa^hly." 137 
 
 man soon appeared. "Sue," he said, "go to Aunt 
 Lucy's, and ask Scip to come here. Bring him in at the 
 front d(Mir, and, mind, let no one know lie comes." 
 
 The woman in a short time returned with Scip. There 
 was not a trace of fear or embarrassment in the negro's 
 manner as he entered the room. Making a respectful 
 bow, he bade us " good evening." 
 
 » Good evening, Scip," said the Colonel, rising and 
 giving the black his hand ; "let us be friends. Madam 
 tells me I should forgive you, and I do." 
 
 " Aunt Lucy say ma'am am an angel, sar, and it nm 
 trn— it am tru, sar," replied the negro with considera- 
 ble feeling. 
 
 The lady rose, also, and took Scip's hand, saying, "i" 
 not only forgive you, but I thank you for what you have 
 done. I shall never forget it." 
 
 " You'se too good, ma'am ; you'se too good to say 
 dat," replied the darky, the moisture coming to his eyes;. 
 *' but I meant nuffin' wrong — I meant nuffin' dis'specful 
 to de Cunnel." 
 
 "I know you didn't, Scip ; but we'll say no more about 
 it ; — good-by," said the Colonel. 
 
 Shaking hands with each one of us, the darky left the 
 apartment. 
 
 One who does not know that the high-bred Southern 
 gentleman considers the black as far below him as the 
 horse he drives, or the dog he kicks, cannot realize the 
 amazing sacrifice of pride which the Colonel made in 
 seeking a reconciliation with Scip. It was the cutting 
 
138 
 
 AMONG THE PINES. 
 
 off of his right hand. The circumstance showed the 
 powerful influence held over him by the octoroon wo- 
 man. Strange that she, his slave, cast out from society 
 by her blood and her life, despised, no doubt, by all the 
 world, save by him and a few ignorant blacks, should 
 thus control a proud, self-willed, passionate man, and 
 control him, too, only for good. 
 
 After the black had gone, I said to the Colonel, " I 
 was much interested in old Lucy. A few more such in- 
 stances of cheerful and contented old age, might lead 
 me to think better of slavery." 
 
 " Such cases are not rare, sir. They show the pater- 
 nal character of our ' institution.' We are forced to 
 care for our servants in their old age." 
 
 " But have your other aged slaves the same comforts 
 that Aunt Lucy has ?" 
 
 '• Xo ; they don't need them. . She has been accus- 
 tomed to live in my house, and to fare better than the 
 l^lantation hands ; she therefore requires better treat- 
 ment." 
 
 " Is not the support of that class a heavy tax upon 
 you ?" 
 
 " Yes, it is heavy. "W"e have, of course, to deduct it 
 from the labor of the able-bodied hands." 
 
 " What is the usual proportion of sick and infirm on 
 your plantation ?" 
 
 " Counting in the child-bearing women, I reckon about 
 twenty per cent." 
 
 "And what does it cost you to support each hand?" 
 
THE planter's " fajviily." 139 
 
 " Well, it costs TWd, for children and all, about seven- 
 ty-five dollars a year. In some places it costs less. I 
 have to buy all my provisions." 
 
 " What proportion of your slaves are able-bodied 
 hands ?" 
 
 " Somewhere about sixty per cent. I have, all told, 
 old and young — men, women, and children — two hun- 
 dred and seventy. Out of that number I have now 
 equal to a hundred and fifty-four full hands. You un- 
 derstand that we classify them : some do only half tasks, 
 some three-quarters. I have more than a hundred and 
 fifty-four working-men and women, but they do only 
 that number of full tasks." 
 
 " What does the labor of a full hand yield ?" 
 
 " At the present price of turpentine, my calculation is 
 about two hundred dollars a year." 
 
 " Then your crop brings you about thirty-one thou- 
 sand dollars, and the support of your negroes costs you 
 twenty thousand." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " If that's the case, my friend, let me advise you to 
 sell your plantation, fi-ee your niggers, and go North." 
 
 " Why so, my dear fellow ?" asked the Colonel laugh- 
 ing. 
 
 " Because you'd make money by the operation." 
 
 "I never was good at arithmetic; go into the figures," 
 
 he replied, still laughing, while Madam P , who had 
 
 laid aside her book, listened very attentively. 
 
 "Well, you have two hundred and seventy negroes. 
 
140 AMONG THE FIXES. 
 
 whom you value, we'll say, with your mules, 'stills,' 
 and movable property, at two hundred thousand dollars ; 
 and twenty thousand acres of land, worth about three 
 dollars and a half an acre ; all told, two hundred and 
 seventy thousand dollars. A hundred and fifty-four able- 
 bodied hands produce you a yearly profit of eleven thou- 
 sand dollars, which, saying nothing about the cost of 
 keeping your live stock, the wear and tear of your mules 
 and machinery, and the yearly loss of your slaves by 
 death, is only four per cent, on your capital. Now, with 
 only the price of your land, say seventy thousand dol- 
 lars, invested in safe stocks at the Xorth, you could 
 reahze eight per cent. — five thousand six hundred 
 dollars — and live at ease; and that, I judge, if you 
 have many runaways, or many die on your hands, is as 
 much as you really clear now. Besides, if you should 
 invest seventy thousand dollars in almost any legitimate 
 business at the Xorth, and should add to it, as you note 
 do, your time and lahor^ you would realize far more than 
 you do at present from your entire capital." 
 
 " I never looked at the matter in that hght. But I 
 have given you my profits as they noio are ; some years 
 I make more; six years ago I made twenty-five thousand 
 dollars." 
 
 *' Yes ; and six years hence you may make nothing." 
 
 " That's true. But it would cost me more to live at 
 the Xorth." 
 
 " There you are mistaken. What do you pay for your 
 corn, your pork, and your hay, for iustance ?" 
 
THE PLANTEK 6 '* FAMILY. 1^1 
 
 " Well, my corn I have to bring round by vessc4 from 
 Washington (North CaroHna), and it costs me high when 
 it gets here — about ten bits (a dollar and twenty-live 
 cents), I think." 
 
 "And in New York you could buy it now at sixty to 
 seventy cents. What does your hay cost?" 
 
 "Thirty-tive dollars. I pay twenty for it in New 
 York — the balance is freight and hauling." 
 
 " Your pork costs you two or three dollars, I suppose, 
 for freight and hauling." 
 
 " Yes ; about that." 
 
 " Then in those items you might save nearly a hun- 
 dred per cent.; and they are the principal articles you 
 consume." 
 
 "Yes; there's no denying that. But another thing 
 is just as certain : it costs less to support one of my 
 niggers than one of your laboring men." 
 
 "That maybe true. But it only shows that our 
 laborers fare better than your slaves." 
 
 " I am not sure of that. I am sure, however, that our 
 slaves are more contented than the run of laboring men 
 at the North." 
 
 " That proves nothing. Your blacks have no hope, 
 no chance to rise; and they submit — though I judge not 
 cheerfully — to an iron necessity. The Northern laborer, 
 if very poor, may be discontented ; but discontent urges 
 him to effort, and )eads to the bettering of his condition. 
 T tell you, my friend, slavery is an expensive luxury. 
 
142 AMONG THE PINES. 
 
 You Southern nabobs icillhuYe it; and you have to pay 
 for it." 
 
 " Well, .we don't complain. But, seriously, my good 
 fellow, I feel that I am carrying out the design of the 
 Almighty in holding my niggers. I think he made the 
 black to serve the white." 
 
 "J think," I replied, "that whatever He designs works 
 perfectly. Your institution certainly does not. It 
 keeps the producer, who, in every society, is the really 
 valuable citizen, in the lowest poverty, while it allows 
 those who do nothing to be 'clad in fine linen, and to 
 fare sumptuously every day.' " 
 
 "It does more than that, sir," said Madam P , 
 
 with animation; "it brutalizes and degrades the master 
 and the slave; it separates husband and wife, parent and 
 child ; it sacrifices virtuous women to the lust of brutal 
 men ; and it shuts millions out from the knowledge of 
 their duty and their destiny. A good and just God 
 could not have designed it ; and it 77iust come to an 
 end." 
 
 If li<i;htning had struck in the room I could not have 
 been more startled than I was by the abrupt utterance 
 of such language in a planter's house, in his very pres- 
 ence, and bi/ his slave. The Colonel, however, expressed 
 no surprise and no disapprobation. It was evidently no 
 new thing to him. 
 
 "It is rare, madam," I said, "to hear such sentiments 
 from a Southern lady — one reared among slaves." 
 
 Before she could reply, the Colonel laughingly said : 
 
THE planter's " FAMILY.'' 143 
 
 "Bless you, Mr. K , madam is an out-and-out 
 
 abolitionist, worse by fifty per cent, than Garrison or 
 Wendell Phillips. If she were at the North she would 
 take to pantaloons, and 'stump' the entire free States; 
 wouldn't you, Alice ?" 
 
 " I have no doubt of it," rejoined the lady, smiling. 
 " But I fear I should have poor success. I've tried for 
 
 ten years to convert you^ and Mr. K can see the 
 
 result." 
 
 It had grown late ; and with my head full of working 
 niggers and white slave-women, I went to my apartment. 
 
 The next day was Sunday. It was near the close of 
 December, yet the air was as mild and the sun as warm 
 as in our Xorthern October. It was arranged at the 
 breakfast-table that we all should attend service at " the 
 meeting-house," a church of the Methodist persuasion, 
 located some eight miles away ; but as it wanted some 
 hours of the time for reUgious exercises to commence, I 
 strolled out after breakfiist, with the Colonel, to inspect 
 the stables of the plantation. " Massa Tommy" accom- 
 panied us, without invitation ; and in the Colonel's in- 
 tercourse with him I observed as much freedom and 
 familiarity as he would have shown to an acknowledged 
 son. The youth's manners and conversation showed 
 that great attention had been given to his education and 
 training, and made it evident that the mother whose 
 intiuence was forming his character, whatever a flilse 
 system of society had made her hfe, possessed some of 
 the best traits of her sex. 
 
144 AMONG THE FIXES. 
 
 The stables, a collection of oue-story framed buildings, 
 about a hundred rods from the house, were well lighted 
 and ventilated, and contained all " the modern improve- 
 ments." They were better built, warmer, more com- 
 modious, and in every way more comfortable than the 
 shanties occupied by the human cattle of the plantation. 
 I remarked as much to the Colonel, adding that one 
 who did not know would infer that he valued his horses 
 more than his slaves. 
 
 " That may be true," he replied, laughing. " Two of 
 my horses are worth more than any eight of my slaves ;" 
 at the same time calling my attention to two magnifi- 
 cent thorough-breds, one of which had made " 2.32" on 
 the Charleston course. The establishment of a Southern 
 gentleman is not complete until it includes one or two 
 of these useless appendages. I had an argument with 
 my host as to their value compared with that of the 
 steam-engine, in which I forced him to admit that the 
 iron horse is the better of the two, because it performs 
 more work, eats less, has greater speed, and is not liable 
 to the spavin or the heaves ; but he wound up by say- 
 ing, "After all, I go for the thorough-breds. You Yan- 
 kees have but one test of value — use." 
 
 A ramble through the negro-quarters, which followed 
 our visit to the stables, gave me some further glimpses 
 of plantation life. Many of the hands were still away 
 in pursuit of Moye, but enough remained to make it 
 evident that Sunday is the happiest day in the darky 
 calendar. Groups of all ages and colors were gathered 
 
THi: PLAXTKr's '' FAMILY." 145 
 
 ill front of several of tlie cabins, some singing, some 
 dancing, and others chatting quietly together, but all 
 enjoying themselves as heartily as so many young ani- 
 mals let loose in a pasture. They saluted the Colonel 
 and me respectfully, but each one had a free, good- 
 natured word for " ^lassa Tommy," who seemed an 
 especial favorite with them. The lad took their greet- 
 ings in good part, but preserved an easy, imconscious 
 dignity of manner that plainly showed he did not know 
 that he too was of their despised, degraded race. 
 
 The Colonel, in a rapid ^vay, gave me the character 
 and peculiarities of nearly every one we met. The titles 
 of some of them amused me greatly. At every step we 
 encountered individuals whose names have become house- 
 hold words in every civilized country.* Julius Caesar, 
 slightly stouter than when he swam the Tiber, and some- 
 what tanned from long exposure to a Southern sun, was 
 seated on a wood-pile, quietly smoking a i)ipe ; while 
 near him, Washington, divested of regimentals, and 
 clad in a modest suit of reddish-gray, his thin locks 
 frosted by time, and his fleshless visage showing great 
 age, was gazing, in rapt admiration, at a group of 
 dancers in front of old Lucy's cabin. 
 
 In this group about thirty men and women were 
 making the ground quake and the woods rmg with their 
 unrestrained jollity. Marc Antony was rattling away 
 
 ♦ Among the things of which slavery has deprived the black is a name. A 
 slave has no family de?isnation. It may be for that reason that a hi^h-sounding 
 appellation is usually selected for the single one ho is allowed to appropriate. 
 
146 AMONG THE PINES. 
 
 at the bones, Xero fiddling as if Rome were burning, 
 and Hannibal clawing at a banjo as if the fate of Car- 
 thage hung on its strings. Napoleon, as young and as 
 lean as when he mounted the bridge of Lodi, with the 
 battle-smoke still on his face, was moving his legs even 
 faster than in the Russian retreat ; and Wesley was using 
 his heels in a way that showed they didn't belong to the 
 Methodist church. But the central figures of the group 
 were Cato and Victoria. The lady had a face like a 
 thunder-cloud, and a form that, if whitewashed, would 
 have outsold the " Greek Slave." She was built on 
 springs, and '' floated in the dance" like a feather in a 
 high wind, Cato's mouth was like an alligator's, but 
 when it opened, it issued notes that would draw the 
 specie even in this time of general suspension. As we 
 approached he was singing a song, but he paused on 
 perceiving us, when the Colonel, tossing a handful of 
 coin among them, called out, "Go on, boys ; let the gen- 
 tleman have some music ; and you, Vic, show your heels 
 like a beauty." 
 
 A general scramble followed, in which " Vic's" sense 
 of decorum forbade her to join, and she consequently 
 got nothing. Seeing that, I tossed her a silver piece, 
 which she caught. Grinning her thanks, she shouted, 
 " Xow, clar de track, you nigs ; start de music. I'se 
 gwine to gib de gemman de breakdown." 
 
 And she did ; and such a breakdown ! " We w'ite 
 folks," though it was no new thing to the Colonel or 
 Tommy, almost burst with laughter. 
 
THE I'LANTKli S ''FAMILY. 147 
 
 In a few minutes nearly every negro on the plantation, 
 attracted by the presence of the Colonel and myself, 
 gathered around the performers ; and a shrill voice at 
 my elbow called out, "Look har, ye lazy, good-for- 
 nuffin' niggers, carn't ye fotch a cheer for Massa Davy 
 and de strange gemman ?" 
 
 " Is that you, Aunty ?" said the Colonel. " How d'ye 
 do?" 
 
 " Sort o' smart, Massa Davy ; sort o' smart ; how is 
 ye?" 
 
 "Pretty well. Aunty; pretty well. Have a seat." 
 And the Colonel helped her to one of the chairs that 
 were brought for us, with as much tenderness as he 
 would have shown to an aged white lady. 
 
 The "exercises," which had been suspended for a 
 moment, recommenced, and the old negress entered into 
 them as heartily as the youngest present. A song from 
 Cato followed the dance, and then about twenty " gen- 
 tleman and lady" darkies joined, two at a time, in a half 
 " walk-round" half breakdown, which the Colonel told 
 me was the original of the well-known dance and song 
 of Lucy Long. Other performances succeeded, and the 
 whole formed a scene impossible to describe. Such up- 
 roarious jollity, such full and perfect enjoyment, I had 
 never seen in humanity, black or white. The Uttle nigs, 
 only four or five years old, would rush into the ring and 
 shuffle away at the breakdowns till I feared tlieir short 
 legs would come off; while all the darkies joined in the 
 songs, till the branches of the old pines above shook as 
 
14:8 a:viong the pines. 
 
 if they too had caught the spirit of the music. In the 
 
 midst of it, the Colonel said to me, in an exultant tone : 
 
 "Well, my friend, what do you think of slavery 
 
 now 
 
 ?" 
 
 "About the same that I thought yesterday. I see 
 nothmg to change my views." 
 
 "Why, are not these peoj^le happy ? Is not this per- 
 fect enjoyment ?" 
 
 " Yes ; just the same enjoyment that aunty's pigs are 
 having ; don't you hear them singing to the music ? I'll 
 wager they are the happier of the two." 
 
 " Xo ; you are wrong. The higher faculties of the 
 darkies are being brought out here." 
 
 " I don't know that," I replied. " Within the sound 
 of their voices, two of their fellows — victims to the in- 
 humanity of slavery — are lying dead, and yet they make 
 Sunday "hideous" with wild jollity, while Sam's fate 
 may be theirs to-morrow." 
 
 Spite of his genuine courtesy and high breeding, a 
 shade of displeasure passed over the Colonel's face as I 
 made this remark. Rising to go, he said, a little im- 
 patiently, " Ah, I see how it is ; that d — Garrison's 
 sentiments have impregnated even you. How can the 
 Korth and the South hold together when moderate men 
 like you and me are so far apart ?" 
 
 " But you," I rejoined, good-humoredly, "are not a 
 moderate man. You and Garrison are of the same 
 stripe, both extremists. You have mounted one hobby, 
 he another ; that is all the difference." 
 
149 
 
 " I should be sorry," he repUed, recovering his good- 
 nature, " to think myself Hke Garrison. I consider him 
 the scoundrel unhung." 
 
 "No; I think he means well. But you are both 
 fanatics, both ' bricks' of the same material ; we con- 
 servatives, like mortar, will hold you together and yet 
 keep you apart." 
 
 " I, for one, loonH be held. If I can't get out of this 
 cursed Union in any other way, I'll emigrate to Cuba." 
 
 I laughed, and just then, looking up, caught a glimpse 
 of Jim, who stood, hat in hand, waiting to speak to the 
 Colonel, but not daring to interrupt a Avhite conversation. 
 
 '' Hallo, Jim," I said ; ' have you got back ?" 
 
 " Yas, sar," replied Jim, grinning all over as if he had 
 some agreeable thing to communicate. 
 
 " Where is Mcye ?" asked the Colonel. 
 
 "Kotched, massa ; I'se got de padlocks on him." 
 
 "Kotched," echoed half a dozen darkies, who stood 
 near enough to hear ; " Ole Moye is kotched," ran 
 through the crowd, till the music ceased, and a shout 
 went up from two hundred black throats that made the 
 old trees tremble. 
 
 " Xow gib him de lashes, Massa Davy," cried the old 
 nurse. "Gib him what he gabe pore Sam ; but mine 
 dat you keeps widin de law." 
 
 "Xever fear, Aunty," said the Colonel; 'Til give 
 him — ." 
 
 How the Col )nel kept his word will be told in another 
 chapter. 
 
150 AMONG THE FIXES. 
 
 CHAPTER Vn. 
 
 PLAXTATIOX DISCIPLINE. 
 
 The " Ole Cabin" to which Jim had alluded as the 
 scene of Sam's punishment by the overseer, was a one- 
 story shanty in the vicinity of the stables. Though fast 
 falling to decay, it had more the appearance of a human 
 habitation than the other huts on the plantation. Its 
 thick plank door was ornamented with a mouldy brass 
 knocker, and its four windows contained sashes, to 
 which here and there clung a broken pane, the surviving 
 relic of its better days. It was built of large unhewn 
 logs, notched at the ends and laid one -upon the other, 
 with the bark still on. The thick, rough coat which yet 
 adhered in patches to the timber had opened in the sun, 
 and let the rain and the worm burrow in its sides, till 
 some parts had crumbled entirely away. At one corner 
 the process of decay had gone on till roof, superstruc- 
 ture, and foundation had rotted down and left an open- 
 ing large enough to admit a coach and four horses. The 
 huge chimneys which had graced the gable ends of the 
 building were fiillen in, leaving only a mass of sticks and 
 clay to tell of then- existence^ and two wide openings to 
 show how great a figure they had once made in the 
 world. A small space in front of the cabin would have 
 been a lawn, had the grass been willing to grow upon 
 
PLANTATION DISCIPLINE. 151 
 
 it ; and a few acres of cleared land in its rear might have 
 passed for a garden, had it not been entirely overgrown 
 with yonng pines and stnbble. Tliis primitive structure 
 was once the '' mansion" of that broad plantation, and, 
 before the production of turpentine came into fashion in 
 that region, its rude owner drew his suj^port from its 
 few surrounding acres, more truly independent than the 
 present aristocratic proprietor, who, raising only one 
 article, and buying all his provisions, was forced to draw 
 his support from the Yankee or the Enghshman. 
 
 Only one room, about forty feet square, occupied the 
 interior of the cabin. It once contained several apart- 
 ments, vestiges of which still remained, but the parti- 
 tions had been torn away to fit it for its present uses. 
 What those uses were, a moment's observation showed 
 me. 
 
 In the middle of the floor, a space about fifteen feet 
 square was covered with thick pine planking, strongly 
 nailed to the beams. In the centre of this planking, an 
 oaken block was firmly bolted, and to it was fastened a 
 strong iron staple that held a log-chain, to which was 
 attached a pair of shackles. Above this, was a queer 
 frame- work of oak, somewhat resembling the contri- 
 vance for drying fruit I have seen in Yankee farm- 
 houses. Attached to the rafters by stout pieces of tim- 
 ber, were two hickory poles, placed horizontally, and 
 about four feet apart, the lower one rather more than 
 eight feet from the floor. This was the whipping-rack, 
 and hanging to it were several stout whips with short 
 
152 AMONG THE PINES. 
 
 hickory handles, and long triple lashes. I took one down 
 for closer inspection, and found burned into the wood, 
 in large letters, the words " Moral Suasion." I ques- 
 tioned the appropriateness of the label, but the Colonel 
 insisted with great gravity, that the whip is the only 
 " moral suasion" a darky is capable of understanding. 
 
 When punishment is inflicted on one of the Colonel's 
 negroes, his feet are confined in the shackles, his arms 
 tied above his head, and drawn by a stout cord uj) to 
 one of the horizontal poles; then, his back bared to 
 the waist, and standing on tip-toe, with every muscle 
 stretched to its utmost tension, he takes "de lashes." 
 
 A more severe but more unusual punishment is the 
 *' thumb-screw." In this a noose is passed around the 
 negro's thumb and fore-finger, while the cord is thro^vn 
 over the upper cross-pole, and the culprit is drawn up 
 till his toes barely touch the ground. In this position 
 the whole weight of the body rests on the thumb and 
 fore-finger. The torture is excruciating, and strong, 
 able-bodied men can endure it but a few moments. The 
 Colonel naively told me that he had discontinued its 
 practice, as several of his women had nearly lost the 
 use of their hands, and been incapacitated for field labor, 
 
 by its too frequent repetition. " My drivers,"* he 
 
 added, "have no discretion, and no humanity; if they 
 have a pique against a nigger, they show him no mercy." 
 
 The old shanty I have described was now the place of 
 the overseer's confinement. Open as it was at top, bot- 
 
 * The negro-whippers and field overseers. 
 
PLANTATION DISCIPLINE. 153 
 
 torn, and sides, it seemed an unsafe prison-house ; but 
 .Tim had secured its present occupant by placing '' de 
 padlocks on him." 
 
 " Where did you catch him ?" asked the Colonel, as, 
 followed by every darky on the plantation, we took our 
 way to the old building. 
 
 " In de swamp, massa. We got Sandy and de dogs 
 arter him— dey treed hun, but he fit like de debble." 
 
 " Any one hurt ?" 
 
 " Yas, Gunnel ; he knifed Yaller Jake, and ef I hadn't 
 a gibin him a wiper, you'd a had anudder nigger short 
 dis mornin' — shore." 
 
 " How was it ? tell me," said his master, while we 
 paused, and the darkies gathered around. 
 
 " Wal, yer see, massa, we got de ole debble's hat dat 
 he drapped wen you had him dow^n ; den we went to 
 Sandy's fur de dogs— dey scented him to oust, and off 
 dey put for de swamp. 'Bout twenty on us follored 
 'em. He'd a right smart start on us, and run like a 
 deer, but de hounds kotched up wid him 'bout whar he 
 shot pore Sam. He fit 'em and cut up de Lady awful, 
 but ole Caesar got a hole ob him, and sliced a breakfuss 
 out ob his legs. Somehow, dough, he got 'way from 
 de ole dog, and elum a tree. 'Twar more'n an hour 
 afore we kotched up ; but dar he war, and de houns bay- 
 ing 'way as ef dey know'd what an ole debble he am. 
 I'd tuk one ob de guns — you warn't in de house, massa, 
 so I cudn't ax you." 
 
 " Xever mind that ; go on," said the Colonel. 
 7* 
 
151 AMONG THE PINES. 
 
 " Wal, I up wid de guii, and tole him ef he didn't cum 
 down I'd gib him suffin' dat 'ud sot hard on de stummuk. 
 It tuk him a long w'ile, but — he cum down^^ Here the 
 darky showed a row of ivory that would have been a 
 fair capital for a metropolitan dentist. 
 
 "When he Avar down," he resumed, "Jake war gwine 
 to tie him, but de ole 'gator, quicker dan a flash, put a 
 knife enter him." 
 
 " Is Jake much hurt ?" interrupted the Colonel. 
 
 "Not bad, massa; de knife went fru his arm, and 
 enter his ribs, but de ma'am hab fix him, and she say 
 he'll be 'round bery sudden." 
 
 " Well, what then ?" inquired the Colonel. 
 
 " Wen de ole debble seed he hadn't finished Jake, he 
 war gwine to gib him anudder dig, but jus den I drap de 
 gun on his cocoanut, and he neber trubble us no more. 
 'Twnr mons'rous hard work to git him out ob de swamp, 
 'cause he war jess like a dead man, and had to be toted 
 de hull way; but he'm dar now, massa (pointing to the 
 old cabin), and de bracelets am on him." 
 
 "Where is Jake?" asked the Colonel. 
 
 "Dunno, massa, but reckon he'm to hum," 
 
 " One of you boys go and bring him to the cabin," 
 said the Colonel. 
 
 A negro man went ofi" on the errand, while we and 
 the darkies resumed our way to the overseer's quarters. 
 Arrived there, I witnessed a scene that words cannot 
 picture. 
 
 Stretched at full length on the floor, his clothes torn 
 
PLAXTA'll(>:< DISCI I'LINE. 155 
 
 to shreds, his coarse carroty hair matted with blood, and 
 his thin, Uij^ly visage pale as death, lay the overseer. 
 Bending over him, wiping away the blood from his face, 
 and swathing a ghastly wound on his forehead, was the 
 n egress Sue ; while at his shackled feet, binding up his 
 still bleeding legs, knelt the octoroon w^oman ! 
 
 '' Is she here ?" I said, involuntarily, as I caught sight 
 of the group. 
 
 " It's her nature," said the Colonel, with a pleasant 
 smile ; " if Moye were the devil himself, she'd do him 
 good if she could ; another such woman never lived." 
 
 And yet this woman, with all the instincts that make 
 her sex angel-ministers to man, hved in daily violation 
 of the most sacred of all laws — because she was a slave. 
 Can Mr. Caleb Cushing or Charles O'Conor tell us why 
 the Almighty invented a system which forces his crea- 
 tures to break laws of His own making ? 
 
 "Don't waste your time on him, AUce," said the 
 Colonel, kindly; "he isn't worth the rope that'll hang 
 him." 
 
 " He was bleeding to death ; unless he has care he'll 
 die," said the octoroon woman. 
 
 " Then let him die, d him," replied the Colonel, 
 
 advancing to where the overseer lay, and bending down 
 to satisfy himself of his condition. 
 
 Meanwhile more than two hundred dusky forms 
 crowded around and filled every opening of the old 
 building. Every conceivable emotion, except pity, was 
 depicted on their dark liices. The same individuals 
 
166 AMONG THE PINES. 
 
 whose cloudy visages a half hour before I had seen dis- 
 tended with a wild mirth and careless jollity, that made 
 me think them really the docile, good-natured animals 
 they are said to be, now glared on the prostrate overseer 
 with the infuriated rage of aroused beasts when spring- 
 ing on their prey. 
 
 "You can't come the possum here. Get up, you 
 
 hound," said the Colonel, rising and striking the bleed- 
 ing man with his foot. 
 
 The fellow raised himself on one elbow and gazed 
 around with a stupid, vacant look. His eye wandered 
 imsteadily for a moment from the Colonel to the throng 
 of cloudy faces in the doorway; then, his recent expe- 
 rience flashing upon him, he shrieked out, cHnging wildly 
 to the skirts of the octoroon woman, who was standing 
 near, " Keep off them cursed hounds — keep them off, I 
 say_they'll kiU me ! they'll kill me !" 
 
 One glance satisfied me that his mind was wandering. 
 The blow on the head had shattered his reason, and 
 made the strong man less than a child. 
 
 " You wont be killed yet," said the Colonel. " You've 
 a small account to settle with me before you reckon witli 
 the devil." 
 
 At this moment the dark crowd in the doorway parted, 
 and Jake entered, his arm bound up and in a sling. 
 
 " Jake, come here," said the Colonel; "this man would 
 have killed you. What shall we do with him?" 
 
 "'Taint for a darky to say dat, massa," said the negro, 
 e\ddently unaccustomed to the rude administration of 
 
PLANTATION DISCIPLINE. loT 
 
 justice which the Colonel was about to inaugurate; "he 
 did wuss dan dat to Sam, massa — he orter swing for 
 shootin' him." 
 
 '^ That's wy affair; we'll settle your accoimt first," re- 
 plied the Colonel. 
 
 The darky looked undecidedly at his master, and tlien 
 at the overseer, who, overcome by weakness, had sunk 
 again to the floor. The little humanity in him was evi- 
 dently struggling with his hatred of Move and his desire 
 for revenge, when the old nurse yelled out from among 
 the crowd, "Gib him fifty lashes, Massa Davy, and den 
 you wash him down.* Be a man, Jake, and say dat." 
 
 Jake still hesitated, and when at last he was about to 
 speak, the eye of the octoroon caught his, and chained 
 the words to his tongue, as if by magnetic power. 
 
 "Do you say that, boys;" said the Colonel, turning to 
 the other negroes; "shall he have fifty lashes?" 
 
 "Yas, massa, fifty lashes — gib de ole debble fifty 
 lashes," shouted about fifty voices. 
 
 "He shall have them," quietly said the master. 
 
 The mad shout that followed, which was more like 
 the yell of demons than the cry of men, seemed to 
 arouse Moye to a sense of his real position. Springing 
 to his feet, he gazed wildly around ; then, sinking on his 
 knees before the octoroon, and clutching the folds of her 
 dress, he shrieked, " Save me, good lady, save me ! as 
 you hope for mercy, save me !" 
 
 * Referring to the common practice of bathing the raw and bleeding backs of 
 the punished eldvcs with a strong solution of salt and water. 
 
158 AMONG THE PINES. 
 
 Not a muscle of her face moved, but, turning to the 
 excited crowd, she mildly said, " Fifty lashes would kill 
 him. Jake, does not say that— your master leaves it 
 to him, and he will not whip a dying man— will you, 
 Jake?" 
 
 " No, ma'am— not— not ef you gwo agin it,'' rephed 
 the negro, with very evident reluctance. 
 
 " But he whipped Sam, ma'am, when Sam war nearer 
 dead than he am," said Jim, whose station as house- 
 servant allowed him a certain freedom of speech. 
 
 " Because he was brutal to Sam, should you be brutal 
 to him ? Can you expect me to tend you when you 
 are sick, if you beat a dying man ? Does Pompey say 
 you should do such things ?" 
 
 "Xo, good ma'am," said the old preacher, stepping 
 out, with the freedom of an old servant, from the black 
 mass, and taking his stand beside me in the open space 
 left for the " w'ite folks ;" "de ole man dusn't say dat, 
 ma'am ; he tell 'em dat de Lord want 'em to forgib dar 
 en'mies — to lub dem dat piu'syskute 'em;" and, turning 
 to the Colonel, he added, as he passed his hand meekly 
 over his thin crop of white wool and threw his long 
 heel back, " ef massa'll 'low me I'll talk to 'em." 
 
 " Fire away," said the Colonel, with evident chagrin. 
 
 " This is a nigger trial ; if you want to screen the d 
 
 hound you can do it." 
 
 " I dusn't want to screed him, massa, but I'se bery 
 ole and got soon to gwo, and I dusn't want de blessed 
 Lord to ax me wen I gets dar why I 'lowed dese pore 
 
PLANTATION DISCIPLINE. 159 
 
 ig'nant brack folks to mudder a man 'fore my bery face. 
 I toted you, massa, 'fore you cud gwo, I'se worked for 
 you till I can't work no more ; and I dusn't want to tell 
 de Lord dat my massa let a brudder man be killed in 
 cole blood." 
 
 " He is no brother of mine, you old fool ; preach to 
 the nigs, don't preach to me," said the Colonel, stifling 
 his displeasure, and striding off through the black crowd, 
 without saying another word. 
 
 Here and there in the dark mass a face showed signs 
 of relenting ; but much the larger number of that strange 
 jury, had the question been put, would have voted — 
 
 DEATH. 
 
 The old preacher turned to them as the Colonel passed 
 out, and said, "My chil'ren, w^ould you hab dis man 
 whipped, so weak, so dyin' as he am, ef he war brack?" 
 
 " Xo, not ef he war a darky — fer den he wouldn't be 
 such an ole debble," replied Jim, and about a dozen of 
 the other negroes. 
 
 " De w'ite aint no wuss dan de brack — we'm all 'like 
 — pore sinners all ob us. De Lord wudn't whip a 
 w'ite man no sooner dan a brack one — He tinks de w'ite 
 juss so good as de brack (good Southern doctrine, I 
 thought). De porest w'ite trash wudn't strike a man 
 wen he war down." 
 
 " We'se had 'nougli of dis, ole man," said a large, 
 powerful negro (one of the drivers), stepping forward, 
 
 and, regardless of the presence of Madam P and 
 
 myself, pressing close to where the overseer lay, now 
 
160 AMONG THE PIX1 S. 
 
 totally unconscious of what was passing around him. 
 " You needn't preach no more ; de Gunnel hab say 
 we'ra to whip ole Move, and we'se gwine to do it, 
 by ." 
 
 I felt my fingers closing on the palm of my hand, and 
 in a second more they might have cut the darky's pro- 
 file, had not Madam P cried out, " Stand back, you 
 
 impudent fellow : say another word, and I'll have you 
 whipped on the spot." 
 
 " De Gunnel am my massa, ma'am — he say ole IMoye 
 am to be whipped, and I'se gwine to do it — shore." 
 
 I have seen a storm at sea — I have seen the tempest 
 tear up great trees — I have seen the hghtning strike in 
 a dark night — but I never saw any thing half so grand, 
 half so terrible, as the glance and tone of that woman as 
 she cried out, " Jim, take this man — give hun fifty lashes 
 this instant." 
 
 Quicker than thought, a dozen darkies were on liim. 
 His hands and feet were tied and he was under the 
 whipping-rack in a second. Turning then to the other 
 negroes, the brave woman said, "Some of you carry 
 Moye to the house, and you, Jim, see to this man — 
 if fifty lashes don't make him sorry, give him fifty 
 more." 
 
 This summary change of programme was silently ac- 
 quiesced in by the assembled negroes, but many a cloudy 
 face scowled sulkily on the octoroon, as, leaning on my 
 arm, she followed Junius and the other negroes, who 
 bore Moye to the mansion. It was plain that under 
 
PLANTATION DISCIPLINE. 161 
 
 thosG dark faces a fire was burning that a breath would 
 have finned into a, flame. 
 
 We entered the house by its rear door, and placed 
 Move in a small room on the ground floor. lie was 
 laid on a bed, and stimulants being given him, his 
 senses and reason shortly returned. His eyes opened, 
 and his real position seemed suddenly to flash upon 
 
 him, for he turned to Madam P , and in a weak 
 
 voice, half choked with emotion, faltered out : " May 
 God in heaven bless ye, ma'am ; God loill bless ye for 
 bein' so good to a wicked man like me. I doesn't de- 
 saiwe it, but ye woant leave me — ye woant leave me — 
 they'U kill me ef ye do !" 
 
 " Don't fear," said the Madam ; " you shall have a 
 fair trial. No harm shall come to you here." 
 
 " Thank ye, thank ye," gasped the overseer, raising 
 himself on one arm, and clutching at the lady's hand, 
 which he tried to lift to his lips. 
 
 " Don't say any more now," said Madam P , 
 
 quietly ; " you must rest and be quiet, or you wont get 
 weU." 
 
 "Shan't I get well? Oh, I can't die— I can't die 
 now .'" 
 
 The lady made a soothing reply, and giving him an 
 opiate, and arranging the bedding so that he might rest 
 more easily, she left the room with me. 
 
 As we stepped into the hall, I saw through the front 
 door, which was open, the horses harnessed in readiness 
 for " meeting," and the Colonel pacing to and to on 
 
162 AMONG THE PINES. 
 
 the piazza, smoking a ci^ar. He perceived us, and 
 halted in the doorway. 
 
 " So you've brought that d bloodthirsty villain 
 
 into my house !" he said to Madam P in a tone of 
 
 strong displeasure. 
 
 " How could I help it ? The negroes are mad, and 
 would kill him anywhere else," rephed the lady, with a 
 certain self-confidence that showed she knew her power 
 over the Colonel. 
 
 " Why should you interfere between them and him ? 
 Has he not insulted you enough to make you let him 
 alone? Can you so easily forgive his taunting you 
 with" — He did not finish the sentence, but what I 
 had learned on the previous evening from the old nurse 
 gave me a clue to its meaning. A red flame flushed the 
 face and neck of the octoroon woman — her eyes literally 
 flashed fire, and her very breath seemed to come with 
 pain ; in a moment, however, this emotion passed away, 
 and she quietly said, " Let me settle that in my own 
 way. He has served you well — you have nothing 
 against him that the law will not punish." 
 
 " By , you are the most unaccountable woman I 
 
 ever knew," exclaimed the Colonel, striding up and 
 down the j^iazza, the angry feeling passing from his 
 face, and giving way to a mingled expression of wonder 
 and admiration. The conversation was here interrupted 
 by Jim, who just then made his appearance, hat in 
 hand. 
 
 " AVell, Jim, what is it ?" asked his master. 
 
PLANTATION DISCIPLINE. 163 
 
 " We'se gib'n Sam twenty lashes, ma'am, but he beg 
 so hard, and say he so sorry, dat I tole hun I'd ax you 
 'fore we gabe him any more." 
 
 " Well, if he's sorry, that's enough ; but tell him he'll 
 get fifty another time," said the lady. 
 
 " What Sam is it ?" asked the Colonel. 
 
 " Big Sam, the driver," said Jim. 
 
 " Why was he whipped ?" 
 
 " lie told me you were his master, and insisted on 
 whipping Moye," repUed the lady. 
 
 " Did he dare to do that ? Give him a hundred, Jim, 
 not one less," roared the Colonel. 
 
 " Yas, massa," said Jim, turning to go. 
 
 The lady looked significantly at the negro and shook 
 her head, but said nothing, and he left. 
 
 " Come, Alice, it is nearly time for meeting, and I 
 want to stop and see Sandy on the way." 
 
 " I reckon I wont go," said Madam P . 
 
 " You stay to take care of Moye, I suppose," said the 
 Colonel, with a shght sneer. 
 
 " Yes," replied the lady, " he is badly hurt, and in 
 danger of inflammation." 
 
 " Well, suit yourself Mr. K , come, we'll go— 
 
 you'll meet some of the 7iativesy 
 
 The lady retired to the house, and the Colonel and I 
 were soon ready. The driver brought the horses to the 
 door, and as we were about to enter the carriage, I 
 noticed Jim taking his accustomed seat on the box. 
 
 " Who's looking after Sam ?" asked the Colonel. 
 6 
 
164 AMONG THE PIXF.i. 
 
 "Nobody, Gunnel ; de ma'am left' him gwo." 
 
 *' How dare you disobey me ? Didn't I tell you to 
 give him a hundred ?" 
 
 " Yas, massa, but de ma'am tole me notter." 
 
 " Well, another time you mind what I say — do you 
 hear ?" said his master. 
 
 " Yas, massa," said the negro, with a broad grin, " I 
 allers do dat." 
 
 " You never do it, you d nigger ; I ought to 
 
 have f.ogged you long ago." 
 
 Jim said nothing, but gave a quiet laugh, showing no 
 sort of fear, and we entered the carriage. I afterward 
 learned from him that he had never been whipped, and 
 that all the negroes on the plantation obeyed the lady 
 when, which was seldom, her orders came in conflict 
 with their master's. They knew if they did not, the 
 Colonel would whip them. 
 
 As we rode slowly along the Colonel said to me, 
 " Well, you see that the best people have to flog niggers 
 sometimes." 
 
 " Yes, I should have given that fellow a hundred 
 lashes, at least. I think the efiiect on the others would 
 
 have been bad if Madam P had not had him flog- 
 
 ged." 
 
 " But she generally goes against it. I don't remem- 
 ber of her having it done in ten years before. And yet, 
 though I've the worst gang of niggers in the district, 
 they obey her like so many children." 
 
 " Whv is that ?" 
 
PLAJs^TATION DISCIPLINE. 1^5 
 
 " Well, there's a kind of magnetism about her that 
 makes everybody love her ; and then she tends them in 
 sickness, and is constantly doing little things for their 
 comfort ; that attaches them to her. She is an extraor- 
 dinary woman." 
 
 *' Whose negroes are those, Colonel ?" I asked, as, 
 after a while, we passed a gang of about a dozen, at 
 work near the roadside. Some were tending a tar-kiln, 
 and some engaged in cutting into fire-wood the pines 
 which a recent tornado had thrown to the ground. 
 
 " They are mine, but they are working now for them- 
 selves. I let such as will, work on Sunday. I furnish 
 the " raw material," and pay them for what they do, as 
 I would a white man." 
 
 " Wouldn't it be better to make them go to hear 
 the old preacher ; couldn't they learn something from 
 him ?" 
 
 " Xot much ; Old Pomp never read any thing but 
 the Bible, and he doesn't understand that; besides, they 
 can't be taught. You can't make ' a whistle out of a 
 pig's tail ;' you can't make a nigger into a white man." 
 
 Just here the carriage stopped suddenlv, and we 
 looked out to see the cause. The road bv which we 
 had come was a mere opening through the pines ; no 
 fences separated it from the wooded land, and beino- 
 seldom travelled, the track was scarcely visible. In 
 many places it widened to a hundred feet, but in others 
 tall trees had grown up on its opposite sides, leaving 
 scarcely width enough for a single carriage to pass 
 
166 AMONG THE PINES. 
 
 along. In one of these narrow passages, just before us, 
 a queer-looking vehicle had upset, and scattered its con- 
 tents in the road. We had no alternative but to wait 
 till it got out of the way ; and we all alighted to recon- 
 noitre. 
 
 The vehicle was a little larger than an ordinary hand- 
 cart, and was mounted on wheels that had probably 
 served their time on a Boston dray before commencing 
 their travels in Secessiondom. Its box of pine board- 
 ing and its shafts of rough oak poles were evidently of 
 Southern home manufacture. Attached to it by a rope 
 harness, with a primitive bridle of decidedly original 
 construction, was — not a horse, nor a mule, nor even 
 an alligator, but a " three-year-old heifer." 
 
 The wooden linch-pin of the cart had given way, and 
 the weight of a half-dozen barrels of turpentine had 
 thrown the box off its balance, and rolled the contents 
 about in all directions. 
 
 The appearance of the proprietor of this nondescript 
 vehicle was in keeping with his establishment. His 
 coat, which was much too short in the waist and much 
 too long in the skirts, was of the common reddish gray 
 linsey, and his nether garments, which stopped just be- 
 low the knees, were of the same material. From there 
 downwards, he wore only the covering that is said to 
 have been the fashion in Paradi-se before Adam took to 
 fig-leaves. His hat had a rim broader than a political 
 platform, and his skin a color half way between tobacco- 
 juice and a t allow candle. 
 
TLAXTATIOX DISCIPLIM-:. 167 
 
 " Wal, Cunnul, how dy'ge ?" said the stranger, as vre 
 stepped from the carriage. 
 
 " Very well, Xed ; how are you?" 
 
 " Purty wal, Cunnul ; had the nagur lately, right 
 smart, but'm gittin' 'roun'/' 
 
 " You're in a bad fix here, I see. Can Jim help you ?" 
 
 "Wal, p'raps he moight. Jim, how dy'ge ?" 
 
 "Sort o' smart, ole feller. But come, stir yerseff; 
 we want ter gwo 'long," replied Jim, with a lack 
 of courtesy that showed he regarded the white man 
 as altogether too "trashy" to be treated with much 
 ceremony. 
 
 With the aid of Jim, a new linch-pin was soon whit- 
 tled out, the turpentine rolled on to the cart, and the 
 vehicle put in a moving condition. 
 
 " Where are you hauling your turpentine ?" asked 
 the Colonel. 
 
 " To Sam Bell's, at the 'Boro'." 
 
 " What will he pay you ?" 
 
 " Wal, I've four barr'ls of ' dip,' and tu of ' hard.' 
 For the hull, I reckon he'll give three dollar a barr'l." 
 
 " By tale ?" 
 
 " No, for tu hun'red and eighty pound." 
 
 "Well, Til give you two dollars and a half, by 
 weight." 
 
 " Can't take it, Cunnel ; must get three dollar." 
 
 " Wliat, will you go sixty miles with this team, and 
 w\aste five or six days, for fifty cents on six -barrels — 
 three dollars I" 
 
168 AMONG THE FIXES. 
 
 " Can't 'for^ the time, Gunnel, but must git three dol- 
 lar a barr'l." ^ 
 
 " That fellow is a specimen of our ' natives,' " said 
 the Colonel, as we resumed our seats in the carriage. 
 *' You'll see more of them before we get back to the 
 plantation." 
 
 " He puts a young cow to a decidedly original use," 
 I remarked. 
 
 " Oh no, not original here ; the ox and the cow with 
 us are both used for labor." 
 
 " You don't mean to say that cows are generally 
 worked here ?" 
 
 " Of course I do. Our breeds are good for nothing 
 as milkers, and we put them to the next best use. I 
 never have cow's milk on my plantation." 
 
 " You don't ! I could have sworn it was in my coflee 
 this morning." 
 
 " I wouldn't trust you to buy brandy for me, if your 
 organs of taste are not keener than that. It was goat's 
 mUk." 
 
 " Then how do you get your butter ?" 
 
 "From the Xorth. Ive had mine from my Xew 
 York factors for over ten years." 
 
 We soon arrived at Sandy, the negro-hunter's, and 
 halted to allow the Colonel to inquire as to the health 
 of his family of children aqd dogs — the latter the less 
 numerous, but, if I might judge by appearances, the 
 more valued of the two. 
 
TUE NEGEO HUNTER. If39 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THE X E G R O H U X T E K . 
 
 Alighting from the carriage, I entered, with my 
 host, the cabin of the negro-hunter. So far as external 
 appearance went, the shanty was a slight improvement 
 on the "Mills House," described in a previous chapter; 
 but internaUy, it was hard to say whether it resembled 
 more a pig-sty or jj dog-kennel. The floor was of the 
 bare earth, covered in patches with loose plank of vari- 
 ous descriptions, and Uttered over T^-ith billets of "Hght. 
 wood," unwashed cooking utensUs, two or three chlap 
 stools, a pine settee— made from the rough log and hewn 
 smooth on the upper side— a full-grown bloodhound, 
 two younger canines, and nine half-clad juveniles of the 
 flax-head species. Over against the fire-place three low 
 beds afforded sleeping accommodation to nearly a dozen 
 human beings (of assorted sizes, and dove-tailed together 
 with heads and feet alternating), and in the opposite cor- 
 ner a lower couch, whose finer furnishings told plainly 
 it was the pecuUar property of the "wee ones" of the 
 family-a mother's tenderness for her youngest thus 
 croppmg out even in the midst of filth and degrada- 
 tion-furnished quarters for an unwashed, uncombed, 
 unclothed, saffi-on-hued Httle fellow about fifteen months 
 old, and-the dog "Lady." She was of a dark hazel 
 8 
 
170 AMONG THE PINES. 
 
 color — a cross between a pointer and a bloodhound — and 
 one of the most beautiful creatures I ever saw. Her 
 neck and breast were bound about with a coarse cotton 
 cloth, saturated with blood, and emitting a strong odor 
 of bad whiskey; and her whole appearance showed 
 the desperate nature of the encounter with the over- 
 seer. 
 
 The nine young democrats who were lolling about the 
 room in various attitudes, rose as we entered, and with 
 a familiar but rather deferential "How-dy'ge," to the 
 Colonel, huddled around and stared at me with open 
 mouths and distended eyes, as if I were some strange be- 
 ing, droj)ped from another sphere. The two eldest were 
 of the male gender, as was shown by their clothes — cast- 
 off suits of the inevitable reddish-gray, much too large, 
 and out at the elbows and the knees — but the sex of the 
 others I was at a loss to determine, for they wore only 
 a single robe, reaching, Uke their mother's, from the neck 
 to the knees. Not one of the occupants of the cabin 
 boasted a pair of stockings, but the father and mother 
 did enjoy the luxury of shoes — coarse, stout brogans, 
 untanned, and of the color of the legs wliich they en- 
 cased. 
 
 "Well, Sandy, how is 'Lady?'" asked the Colonel, as 
 he stepped to the bed of the wounded dog. 
 
 "Reckon she's a goner, Gunnel; the d Yankee 
 
 orter swing fur it." 
 
 This intimation that the overseer was a country- 
 man of mine, took me by surprise, nothing I had ob- 
 
THE NEGRO HUNTER. 171 
 
 served in his speech or manners having indicated it, but 
 I conj^oled myself with the reflection that Connecticut 
 had reared him— as she makes wooden hams and nut- 
 megs—expressly for the Southern market. 
 
 "He shall swing for it, by . But are you sure 
 
 the slut will die ?" 
 
 "Not shore, Gunnel, but she can't stand, and the 
 blood icill run. I reckon a hun'red and fifty ar done for 
 thar, sartin." 
 
 " ^ the money— I'll make that right. Go to the 
 
 house and get some ointment from Madam— she can save 
 her — go at once," said my host. 
 
 "I will, Gunnel," replied the dirt-eater, taking his 
 broad-brim from a wooden peg, and leisurely leaving the 
 cabm. Making our way then over the piles of rubbish 
 and crowds of children that cumbered the apartment, 
 the Golonel and I returned to the carriao-e. 
 
 o 
 
 " Dogs must be rare in this region," I remarked, as 
 we resumed our seats. 
 
 "Yes, well-trained bloodhounds are scarce every- 
 where. That dog is well worth a hundred and fifty 
 dollars." 
 
 " The business of nigger-catching, then, is brisk, just 
 now ?" 
 
 " Xo, not more brisk than usual. We always have 
 
 more or less runaways." 
 
 " Do most of them take to the swamps ?" 
 
 " Yes, nine out of ten do, though now and then one 
 
 gets ofi" on a trading vessel. It is almost impossible for 
 
172 AMONG THE PINES. 
 
 a strange nigger to make his way by land from here to 
 the free states." 
 
 " Then why do you Carohnians make such an outcry 
 about the violation of the Fugitive Slave Law ?" 
 
 " For the same reason that dogs quarrel over a naked 
 bone. We should be unhappy if we couldn't growl at 
 the Yankees," replied the Colonel, laughing. 
 
 " TFe, you say; you mean by that, the hundred and 
 eighty thousand nabobs who own five-sixths of your 
 slaves ?"* 
 
 " Yes, I mean them, and the three milhons of poor 
 whites — the ignorant, half-starved, lazy vermin you have 
 just seen. They are the real basis of our Southern oH- 
 
 * Ihe foregoing statistics are correct. That small number of slave-holders sus- 
 tains the sj-stem of slavery, and has caused this terrible rebellion. They are, 
 almost to a man, rebels and secessionists, and we may cover the South with 
 armies, and keep a file of soldiers upon every plantation, and not smother this 
 insuiTection. unless we break down the power of that class. Their wealth gives 
 them their power, and their wealth is in their slaves. Free their negroes by an 
 act of emancipation, or confiscation, and the rebellion will crumble to pieces in a 
 d:iy Omit to do it, and it will last till doomsday. 
 
 The power of this dominant class once broken, with landed property at the 
 South more equally di\nded, a new order of things will arise there. Where now, 
 with their large plantations, not one acre in ten is tilled, a system of small farms 
 will spring into existence, and the whole country be covered with cultivation. 
 The six hundred thousand men who have gone there to fight our battles, will see 
 the amazing feriility of the Southern soil — into which the seed is thrown and 
 springs up without labor into a bountiful harvest — and many of them, if slavery 
 is crushed out, will remain there. Thus a new element will be introduced into 
 the South, an element that will speedily make it a loyal, prosperous, and inteUi- 
 gtnl section of the Union. 
 
 I would interfere with no one's rights, but a rebel in arms against his country 
 has r>o rights ; all that he has '• is confiscate." Will the loyal people of the North 
 submit to be ground to the earth with taxes to pay the expenditures of a war, 
 brought upon them by these Southern oligarchists, while the traitors are left in 
 undisturbed possession of every thing, and even their slaves are exempted from 
 taxation? It were well that our legislators should ask this question now, and 
 not wait till it is asked of them by the people. 
 
THE NEGRO HTHSTTER. 1Y3 
 
 garchy, as you call it," continued my host, still laugh- 
 ing. 
 
 '' I thought the negroes were the serfs in your feudal 
 system?" 
 
 " Both the negroes and the poor whites are the serfs, 
 but the wliite trash are its real support. Their votes 
 give the small minority of slave-owners all their power. 
 You say we control the Union. We do, and we do it 
 by the votes of these people, who are as far below our 
 niggers as the niggers are below decent white men. 
 Who that reflects that this coimtry has been governed 
 for fifty years by such scum, would give a d for re- 
 publican institutions ?" 
 
 " It does speak badly for your institutions. A system 
 that reduces nearly half of a white population to the 
 level of slaves cannot stand in this country. The late 
 election shows that the power of your 'white trash' is 
 broken." 
 
 " Well, it does, that's a fact. If the states should re- 
 main together, the West would in future control the 
 Union. We see that, and are therefore determined on 
 dissolution. It is our only way to keep our niggers." 
 
 "The West will have to consent to that project. My 
 opinion is, your present pohcy will, if carried out, free 
 every one of your slaves." 
 
 " I dont see how. Even if we are put down — which 
 we cannot be — and are held in the Union against our 
 will, government cannot, by the constitution, interfere 
 with slavery in the states." 
 
174 AMONG THE PINES. 
 
 " I admit that, but it can confiscate the property of 
 traitors. Every large shive-holder is to-day, at heart, a 
 traitor. If this movement goes on, you will commit 
 overt acts against the government, and in self-defence it 
 will punish treason by taking from you the means of 
 future mischief." 
 
 "The Republicans and Abolitionists might do that if 
 they had the power, but nearly one-half of the North is 
 on our side, and will not fight us." 
 
 " Perhaps so ; but if I had this thing to manage, I 
 would put you down without fighting." 
 
 " How would you do it — by preaching abolition where 
 even the niggers would mob you ? There's not a slave 
 in all South Carolina but would shoot Garrison or Gree- 
 ley on sight." 
 
 " That may be, but if so, it is because you keep them 
 in ignorance. Build a free-school at every cross-road, 
 and teach the poor whites, and what would become of 
 slavery ? If these people were on a par with the farmers 
 of New England, would it last for an hour ? "Would 
 they not see that it stands in the way of their advance- 
 ment, and vote it out of existence as a nuisance ?" 
 
 "Yes, perhaps they would ; but the school-houses are 
 not at the cross-roads, and, thank God, they will not be 
 there in this generation." 
 
 "The greater the pity ; but that which will not flourish 
 alongside of a school-house, cannot, in the nature of 
 things, outlast this century. Its time must soon come." 
 
 " Enough for the day is the evil thereof. I'll risk the 
 
THE NEGRO HUNTER. 175 
 
 future of slavery, if the South, in a body, goes out of the 
 .Union." 
 
 " In other words, you'll shut out schools and knowl- 
 edge, in order to keep slavery in existence. The Abo- 
 litionists claim it to be a relic of barbarism, and you ad- 
 mit it could not exist with general education among the 
 people." 
 
 " Of course it could not. If Sandy, for instance, knew 
 he were as good a man as I am — and he w^ould be if he 
 were educated — do you suppose he would vote as I tell 
 him, go and come at my bidding, and hve on my charity ? 
 No, sir ! give a man knowledge, and, however poor he 
 may be, he'll act for himself" 
 
 " Then free-schools and general education would de- 
 stroy slavery?" 
 
 " Of course they would. The few cannot rule when 
 the many know their rights. If the poor whites reaUzed 
 that slavery kept them poor, would they not vote it 
 down ? But the South and the world are a long way 
 off from general education. When it comes to that, we 
 shall need no laws, and no slavery, for the millennium 
 will have arrived." 
 
 " I'm glad you think slavery will not exist during the 
 millennium," I replied, good-humoredly ; " but how is it 
 that you insist the negro is naturally inferior to the 
 white, and still admit that the ' white trash,' are far be- 
 low the black slaves ?" 
 
 "Education makes the difference. We educate the 
 negro enough to make him useful to us ; but the poor 
 
176 AMONG THE PINES. 
 
 white man knows nothing. He can neither read nor 
 write, and not only that, he is not trained to any useful 
 employment. Sandy, here, who is a fair specimen of the 
 tribe, obtains his Uving just like an Indian, by hunting, 
 fishing, and stealing, interspersed with nigger-catching. 
 His whole wealth consists of two hounds and pups ; his 
 house — even the wooden trough his miserable children 
 eat from — belongs to me. If he didn't catch a runaway- 
 nigger once in a while, he wouldn't see a dime from one 
 year to another." 
 
 "Then you have to support tliis man and his family?" 
 
 *' Yes, w^hat I don't give him he steals. Half a dozen 
 others poach on me in the same way." 
 
 " Why don't you set them at work?" . 
 
 " They can't be made to work. I have hired them 
 time and again, hoping to make sometliing of them, 
 but I never got one to work more than half a day at a 
 time. It's their nature to lounge and to steal." 
 
 " Then why do you keep them about you ?" 
 
 " Well, to be candid, their presence is of use in keep- 
 ing the blacks in subordination, and they are worth all 
 they cost me, because I control their votes." 
 
 " I thought the blacks were said to be entirely con- 
 tented?" 
 
 " N'o, not contented. I do not claim that. I only say 
 that they are unfit for freedom. I might cite a hundred 
 instances in which it has been their ruin." 
 
 " I have not heard of one. It seems strange to me that 
 a man who can support another cannot support himself." 
 
THE NEGRO HUNTER. 177 
 
 " Oh ! no, it's not at all strange. The slave has hands, 
 and when the master gives him brains, he works well 
 enough ; but to support himself he needs both hands 
 and brains, and he has only hands. I'll give you a case 
 in point : At Wilmington, N. C, some years ago, there 
 lived a negro by the name of Jack Campbell. He was 
 a slave, and was employed, before the river was deepen- 
 ed so as to admit of the passage of large vessels up to 
 the town, in Ughtering cargoes to the wharves. He 
 hired his time of his master, and carried on business on 
 his own account. Every one knew him, and his charac- 
 ter for honesty, sobriety, and punctuality stood so high 
 that his word was considered among merchants as good 
 as that of the first business-men of the place. Well, 
 Jack's wife and children were free, and he finally took 
 it into his head to be free himself. He arranged with 
 his master to purchase himself within a specified time, at 
 eight hundred dollars, and he was to deposit his earn- 
 ings in the hands of a certain merchant till they reached 
 the required sum. He went on, and in three years had 
 accumulated nearly seven hundred dollars, when his 
 owner failed in business. As the slave has no right of 
 property, Jack's earnings belonged by law to his master, 
 and they were attached by the Northern creditors (mark 
 that, by Korthern creditors)^ and taken to pay the mas- 
 ter's debts. Jack, too, was sold. His new owner also 
 consented to his buying himself, at about the price pre- 
 viously agreed on. Nothing discouraged, he went to 
 work again. Night and day he toiled, and it surprised 
 8* 
 
178 AMONG THE PINES. 
 
 every one to see so much energy and firmness of purpose 
 in a negro. At last, after four more years of labor, he 
 accomplished his purpose, and received his free-papers. 
 He had worked seven years — as long as Jacob toiled for 
 Rachel — for his freedom, and like the old patriarch he 
 found himself cheated at last. I was present when he 
 received his papers from his owner — a Mr. ^Villiam H. 
 Lippitt, who still resides at Wilmington — and I shall 
 never forget the ecstasy of joy which he showed on the 
 occasion. He sung and danced, and laughed, and wept, 
 till my conscience smote me for holding my own niggers, 
 when freedom might give them so much happiness. 
 Well, he went off that day and treated some friends, and 
 for three days afterward lay in the gutter, the entreaties 
 of his wife and children having no effect on him. He 
 
 swore he was free, and would do as he ' d pleased.' 
 
 He had previously been a class-leader in the church, but 
 after getting his freedom he forsook his previous asso- 
 ciates, and spent his Sundays and evenings in a bar-room. 
 He neglected his business ; people lost confidence in him, 
 and step by step he went down, till in five years he sunk 
 into a wretched grave. That was the effect of freedom 
 on hi?)i, and it would be the same on all of his race." 
 
 "It is clear," I replied, "/?e could not bear freedom, 
 but that does not prove he might not have 'endured' it 
 if he had never been a slave. His overjoy at obtaining 
 liberty, after so long a struggle for it, led to his excesses 
 and his ruin. According to your view, neither the black 
 nor the poor white is competent to take care of himself. 
 
THE NEGRO HUNTER. 179 
 
 The Almighty, therefore, has laid upon yoit a triple bur- 
 den ; you not only have to provide for yourself and your 
 children, but for two races beneath you, the black and 
 the clay-eater. The poor nigger has a hard time, but it 
 seems to me you have a harder one." 
 
 "Well, it's a tact, we do. I often think that if it wasn't 
 for the color and the odor, I'd willingly exchange places 
 with my man Jim." 
 
 The Colonel made this last remark in a half-serious, 
 half-comic way, that excited my risibihties, but before 
 I could reply, the carriage stopped, and Jim, opening the 
 door, announced: 
 
 " We's har, massa, and de prayin' am gwine on." 
 
180 AMONG THE PINES. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE COUNTRY CHURCH. 
 
 Had we not been absorbed in conversation, we might 
 have discovered, some time previous to our arrival at the 
 church door, that the services had commenced, for the 
 preacher was shouting at the top of his lungs. He evi- 
 dently thought the Lord either a long way oif, or very 
 hard of hearing. Xot wishing to disturb the congrega- 
 tion while at their devotions, we loitered near the door- 
 way until the prayer was over, and in the mean time I 
 glanced around the vicinity. 
 
 The "meeting-house," of large unhewn logs, was a 
 story and a half in height, and about large enough to 
 seat comfortably a congregation of two hundred persons. 
 It was covered with shingles, with a roof projecting 
 some four feet over the walls, and was surmounted at 
 the front gable by a tower, about twelve feet square. 
 This also was built of logs, and contained a bell "to call 
 the erring to the house of prayer," though, unfortunately, 
 all of that character thereabouts dwelt beyond the sound 
 of its voice. The building was located at a cross-roads, 
 about equally distant from two little hamlets (the near- 
 est nine miles off), neither of which was popujQus enough 
 to singly support a church and a preacher. The trees in 
 
THE COUNTRY CHURCH. 181 
 
 the vicinity had been thinned out, so that carriages could 
 drive into the woods, and lind under the branches shelter 
 from the rain and the sun ; and at the time of ray visit, 
 about 1 wenty vehicles of all sorts and descriptions, from 
 the Colonel's magnificent barouche to the rude cart 
 drawn by a single two-horned quadruped, filled the 
 openings. There was a rustic simplicity about the 
 whole scene that charmed me. The low, rude church, 
 the grand old pines that towered in leafy magnificence 
 around it, and the soft, low wind, that sung a morning 
 hymn in the green, wavy Avoods, seemed to lift the soul 
 up to Him who inhabiteth eternity, but who visit eth 
 the erring children of men. 
 
 The preacher was about to "line out" one of Watts' 
 psalms when we entered the church, but he stopped 
 short on perceiving us, and, bowing low, waited till we 
 had taken our seats. This action, and the sycophantic 
 air which accompanied it, disgusted me, and turning to 
 the Colonel, I asked, jocosely : 
 
 " Do the chivalry exact so much obsequiousness from 
 the country clergy ? Do you require to be bowed up to 
 heaven ?" 
 
 In a low voice, but high enough, I thought, for the 
 preacher to hear, for w^e sat very near, the Colonel re- 
 plied : 
 
 "He's a renegade Yankee — the meanest thing on 
 earth." 
 
 I said no more, but entered into the services as seri- 
 ously as the strange gymnastic performances of the 
 
182 AMONG THE PINES. 
 
 preacher would allow of my doing ; for he was quite as 
 amusing as^ circus clown. 
 
 With the exception of the Coloners, and a few other 
 pews in the vicinity of the pulpit, all of the seats were 
 mere rough benches, without backs, and placed so 
 closely together as to interfere uncomfortably with the 
 knees of the sitters. The house was full, and the con- 
 gregation as attentive as any I ever saw. All classes 
 were there ; the black serving-man away off by the door- 
 way, the poor white a little higher up, the small turpen- 
 tine-farmer a httle higher still, and the wealthy planter, 
 of the class to which the Colonel belonged, on "the 
 highest seats of the synagogue," and in close proximity 
 to the preacher. 
 
 The " man of prayer" was a tall, lean, raw-boned, an- 
 gular-built individual, with a thin, sharp, hatchet-face, a 
 small sunken eye, and long, loose hair, brushed back and 
 falUng over the collar of a seedy black coat. He looked 
 like a dilapidated scare-crow, and his pale, sallow face, 
 and cracked, wheezy voice, were in odd and comic 
 keeping with his discourse. His text was : " Speak 
 unto the children of Israel, that they go forward." And 
 addressing the motley gathering of poor whites and 
 small planters before him as the "chosen people of 
 God," he urged them to press on in the mad course 
 their state had taken. It was a political harangue, a 
 genuine stump-speech, but its frequent allusions to the 
 auditory as the legitimate children of the old patriarch, 
 and the rightful heirs of all the promises, struck me as- 
 
THE COUNTRY CHURCH. 183 
 
 out of place in a rural district of South Carolina, how- 
 ever appropriate it might have been in one of the large 
 towns, before- an audience of merchants and traders, 
 who are, almost to a man, Jews. 
 
 The services over, the congregation slowly left the 
 church. Gathered in groups in front of the " meeting- 
 house," they were engaged in a general discussion of 
 the affairs of the dav, when the Colonel and I emero-ed 
 from the doorway. The better class greeted my host 
 with considerable cordiality, but I noticed that the well- 
 to-do small planters, who composed the greater part of 
 the assemblage, received him with decided coolness. 
 These people were the " J^orth County folks," on whom 
 the overseer had invoked a hanging. Except that their 
 clothing was more uncouth and ill-fashioned, and their 
 faces generally leSs "cute" of expression, they did not 
 materially differ in appearance from the rustic citizens 
 who may be seen on any pleasant Sunday gathered 
 around the doorways of the rural meeting-houses of 
 New England. 
 
 One of them, who was leaning against a tree, quietly 
 hghting a pipe, was a fair type of the whole, and as he 
 took a part m the scene which followed, I will describe 
 him. He was tall and spare, with a swinging, awkward 
 gait, and a wiry, athletic frame. His hair, which he 
 wore almost as long as a woman's, was coarse and black, 
 and his face strongly marked, and of the precise color 
 of two small rivulets of tobacco-juice that escaped from 
 .the corners of his mouth. He had an easy, self-pos- 
 
184 AMONG THE PINES. 
 
 sessed manner, and a careless, devil-may-care way about 
 him, that showed he had measured his powers, and was 
 accustomed to " rough it" with the world. He wore a 
 broadcloth coat of the fashion of some years ago, but 
 his waistcoat and nether garments of the common, red- 
 dish homespun, were loose and ill-shaped, as if their 
 owner did not w^aste thought on such trifles. His hat, 
 as shockingly bad as Horace Greeley's, had the inevi- 
 table broad brim, and fell over his face Hke a calash- 
 awning over a shop-window. As I approached him 
 he extended his hand w^th a pleasant "How are ye, 
 stranger ?" 
 
 "Very well," I replied, returning his grasp with 
 equal w^armth, "how are you?" 
 
 " Right smart, right smart, thank ye. You're " 
 
 the rest of the sentence w^as cut short by a gleeful ex- 
 clamation from Jim, who, mounted on the box of the 
 carriage, which was drawn up on the cleared plot in 
 front of the meeting-house, waved an open newspaper 
 over his head, and called out, as he caught sight of the 
 Colonel : 
 
 "Great news, massa — great news from Charls'on!" 
 
 (The darky, while we were in church, had gone to the 
 post-office, some four miles away, and got the Colonel's 
 mail, which consisted of letters from his Xew York and 
 Charleston factors, the Charleston Courier and Mercury 
 and the New York Journal of Commerce. The latter 
 sheet, at the date of w^hich I am writing, was in wide 
 circulation at the South, its piety (!) and its politics. 
 
THE COUNTRY CHURCH. 185 
 
 being then calculated with mathematical precision for 
 see'cssion latitudes.) 
 
 '' What is it, Jim ?*' shouted his master. " Give it to 
 us." 
 
 The darky had somehow learned to read, but holding 
 the paper at arm's length, and throwhig himself into a 
 theatrical attitude, he cried out, with any amount of 
 gesticulation : 
 
 " De news am, massa, and gemmen and ladies, dat de 
 ole fort fore Charls'on hab ben devacuated by Major 
 Andersin and de sogers, and dey hab stole 'way in de 
 dark night and gone to Sumter, whar dey can't be took ; 
 and dat de ole Gubner hab got out a procdemation 
 dat all dat don't lub de AberUshen Yankees shill cum 
 up dar and clar 'em out ; and de paper say dat lots ob 
 sogers hab cum from Georgi and Al'bama, and 'way 
 down Souf, to help 'em. Dis am w'at de Currer say," 
 he continued, holding the paper up to his eyes and read- 
 ing : ' Major Andersin, ob de United States army hab 
 'chieved de 'stinction ob op'ning cibil war 'tween Ameri- 
 can citizens ; he hab desarted 3Ioulfrie, and by false fre- 
 texts hab took dat ole Garrison and all his millinery 
 stores to Fort Sumter." 
 
 " Get down, you d d nigger," said the Colonel, 
 
 laugliing, and mounting the carriage-box beside him. 
 " You can't read. Old Garrison isn't there — he's the 
 d d Northern Abolitionist." 
 
 "I knows dat. Gunnel, but see dar," replied Jim, hold- 
 ing the paper out to his master, "don't dat say he'm 
 
186 AilONG THE FIXES. 
 
 dar ? It'm him dat make all de trubblo. P'raps dis nig 
 can't read, but ef dat aint readin' I'd like to know it !" 
 
 " Clear out," said the Colonel, now actually roaring 
 with laughter ; " it's the garrison of soldiers that the 
 Courier speaks of, not the Abolitionist." 
 
 "Read it yoursef, den, massa, I don't seed it dat 
 way." 
 
 Jim was altogether wiser than he appeared, but while 
 equally as well pleased with the news as his master, he 
 was so for an entirely different reason. In the crisis 
 which these tidings announced, he saw hope for his 
 race. 
 
 The Colonel then read the paper to the assemblage. 
 The news was received with a variety of manifestations 
 by the auditory, the larger portion, I thought, hearing 
 it, as I did, with sincere regret. 
 
 " Now is the time to stand by the state, my friends," 
 said my host, as he finished the reading. " I hope every 
 man here is ready to do his duty by old South Carolina." 
 
 " Yes, sar ! if she does har duty by the Union. We'll 
 go to the death for har just so long as she's in the right, 
 
 but not a d d step if she arn't," said the long-legged 
 
 native I have introduced to the reader. 
 
 " And what have you to say about South Carolina ? 
 What does she owe to youf' asked the Colonel, turn- 
 ino; on the speaker with a proud and angry look. 
 
 " More, a darned sight, than she'll pay, if ye cursed 
 'ristocrats run her to h — as ye'r doin'. She owes me, 
 and 'bout ten as Ukely niggers as ye ever seed, a living, 
 
THE COUNTRY CHUHCH. 187 
 
 and we've d d hard work to get it out on her notOy 
 
 let alone what's comin'." 
 
 "Don't talk to me, you ill-mannered cur," said my 
 host, turning his back on his neighbor, and directing his 
 attention to the remainder of the assemblage. 
 
 " Look har, Gunnel," replied the native, " if ye'll jest 
 come down from thar, and throw 'way yer sliootin'- 
 irons. 111 give ye the all-firedest thrashing ye ever did 
 get." 
 
 The Colonel gave no further heed to him, but the 
 speaker mounted the steps of the meeting-house and 
 harangued the natives in a strain of rude and passion- 
 ate declamation, in which my host, the aristocrats, and 
 the secessionists came in for about equal shares of 
 abuse. Seeing that the native (who, it appeared, was 
 quite popular as a stump-speaker) was drawing away 
 his audience, the Colonel descended from the driver's 
 seat, and motioning for me to follow, entered the car- 
 riage. Turning the horses homeward, we rode off at a 
 brisk pace. 
 
 "Xot much secession about that fellow, Colonel," I 
 remarked, after a while. 
 
 "Xo," he replied, "he's a Xorth Carolina 'corn- 
 cracker,' one of the ugliest specimens of humanity ex- 
 tant. They're as thick as fleas in this part of the state, 
 and about all of them are traitors." 
 
 "Traitors to the state, but true to the Union. As far 
 as I've seen, that is the case with the middling class 
 throughout the South." 
 
188 AMONG THE PINES. 
 
 "Well, it may be, but they generally go with us, 
 and I reckon they will now, when it conies to the rub. 
 Those in the towns — the traders and mechanics — will, 
 certain ; its only these half-way independent planters 
 that ever kick the traces. By the way," continued my 
 host, in a jocose way, "what did you think of the 
 preaching ?" , 
 
 " I thought it Tery poor. I'd rather have heard the 
 stump-speech, had it not been a little too personal on 
 you." 
 
 '-'Well, it was the better of the two," he rejDlied, 
 laughing, " but the old devil can't afford any thing good, 
 he don't get enough pay." 
 
 " Why, how much does he get ?" 
 
 " Only a hundred dollars." 
 
 "That is small. How does the man live?" 
 
 " Well, he teaches the daughter of my neighbor. 
 Captain Randall, who believes in praying, and gives him 
 his board. Randall thhiks that enough. The rest of 
 the parish can't afford to pay him, and I wont.^'' 
 
 " Why wont you ?" 
 
 " Because he's a d d old hypocrite. He beUeves 
 
 m the Union with all his heart — at least so Randall, 
 wiio's a sincere Union man, says — and yet, he never sees 
 me at meeting but he preaches a red-hot secession ser- 
 mon." 
 
 " He wants to keep you in. the faith," I replied. 
 
 A few more miles of sandy road took us to the man- 
 sion, where we found dinner iu waiting. Meetmg 
 
THE CQUNTRY CHURCH. 189 
 
 "Massa Tommy" — who had staid at home with his 
 mother — as we entered the doorway, the Colonel asked 
 after the overseer. 
 
 *' He seems well enough, sir ; I believe he's coming 
 the possum over mother." 
 
 " 111 bet on it, Tommy ; but he wont fool you and 
 me, will he, my boy ?" said his father, slapping him af- 
 fectionately on the back. 
 
 Atler dinner I went, with my host to the room of the 
 y^ounded man. His head was still bound up, and he 
 was^ groaning piteously, as if in great pain; but I 
 thought there was too fresh a color in his face to be en- 
 tirely natural in one who had lost so much blood, and 
 been so severely wounded as he affected to have been. 
 
 The Colonel mentioned our suspicions to Madam P , 
 
 and suggested that the shackles should be put on him. 
 
 " Oh ! no, don't do that ; it would be inhuman," said 
 the lady ; " the color is the effect of fever. If you fear 
 he is plotting to get aw^ay, let him be watched." 
 
 The Colonel consented, but with evident reluctance, 
 to the arrangement, and retired to his room to take a 
 siesta^ w^hile I lit a segar, and strolled out to the negro 
 quarters. 
 
 Making my way through the woods to the scene of 
 the morning's jollification, I found about a hundred 
 iarkies gathered around Jim, on the little plot in front 
 jf old Lucy's cabin. He had evidently been giving 
 ,hem the news. Pausing when I came near, he ex- 
 claimed : 
 
190 AMONG THE PINES. 
 
 "Har's Massa K , hell say dat I tells you de 
 
 truf h ;" and turning to me, he said: "Massa K , 
 
 dese darkies say dat Massa Andersin am an ab'lishenier, 
 and dat none but de ab'lisherners will fight for de Union ; 
 am dat so, sar ?" 
 
 " Xo, I reckon not, Jhn ; I think the whole North 
 would fight for it if it were necessary." 
 
 "Am dat so, massa? am dat so?" eagerly inquired a 
 dozen of the darkies ; " and am dar great many folks at 
 de Xorf — more dan dar am down har ?" 
 
 " Yas, you fools, didn't I tell you dat ?" said Jim, as 
 I, not exactly relishing the idea of preaching treason, in 
 the Colonel's absence, to his slaves, hesitated to reply. 
 " Haint I tole you," he continued, " dat in de big city 
 ob New York dar'm more folks dan in all Car'lina? 
 
 Tse been dar, and I knows; and Massa K '11 tell 
 
 you dat dey — most on 'em — feel mighty sorry for de' 
 brack man." 
 
 " No he wont," I replied, " and besides, Jim, you 
 should not talk in this way before me ; I might tell your 
 master." 
 
 " No ! you wont do dat ; I knows you wont, massa. 
 Scipio tole us he'd trust his bery life wid yo?/." 
 
 " Well, perhaps he might ; it's true I would not injure 
 you ;" saying that, I turned away, though my curiosity 
 was greatly excited to hear more. 
 
 I wandered farther into the woods, and a half-hour 
 found me near one of the turpentine distilleries. Seat- 
 ing myself on a rosin barrel, I quietly finished my segar, 
 
THE COrXTRY CnURCH. 191 
 
 and -was about lighting another, when Jim made his ap- 
 pearance. 
 
 " Beg pardon, Massa K ," said the negro, bowing 
 
 very low, " but I wants to ax you one or two tings, ef 
 you ]>lease, sar." 
 
 " Well," I replied, "I'll tell you any thing that I ought 
 to." 
 
 " Der yer tink, den, massa, dat dey'll git to fightin' at 
 Charl'son ?" 
 
 " Yes, judging by the tone of the Charleston papers 
 you've read to-day, I think they will." 
 
 "And der yer tink dat de rest ob de Souf will jine wid 
 Sou^ Car'lina, if she go at it fust ?" 
 
 " Yes, Jim, I'm inclined to think so." 
 
 " I hard you say to massa, dat ef dey goes to war, 'twill 
 free all de niggers — der you raily b'lieve dat, sar ?" 
 
 •" You heard me say that ; how did you hear it ?" I 
 exclaimed, in surprise. 
 
 " Why, sar, de front winder ob de carriage war down 
 jess a crack, so I hard all you said." 
 
 " Did you let it down on purpose ?" 
 
 " P'r'aps so, massa. Whot's de use ob habin' ears, ef 
 you don't har ?" 
 
 "Well, I suppose not much ; and you tell all you hear 
 to the other negroes ?" 
 
 " I reckon so, massa," said the darky, looking very 
 demure. 
 
 "That's the use of having a tongue, eh?" I replied, 
 laughinf?. 
 
192 AMONG THE PINES. 
 
 " Dat's it 'zactly, massa." 
 
 ''Well, Jim, I do think the slaves will be finally freed; 
 but it will cost more white blood to do it than all the 
 niggers in creation are worth. Do you think the darkies 
 would fight for their freedom ?" 
 
 " Fight, sar !" exclaimed the negro, straightening up 
 his fine form, while his usual good-natured look passed 
 from his face, and gave way to an expression that made 
 him seem more like an incaraatc devil than a human 
 being ; " fight, sar ; gib dem de chance, and den see." 
 
 " Why are you discontented ? You have been at the 
 Korth, and you know the blacks are as well off as the 
 majority of the poor laboring men there." 
 
 " You says dat to me, Massa K ; you don't say it 
 
 to de Gunnel. We am not so well off as de pore man 
 at de Xorf ! You knows dat, sar. He hab his wife and 
 chil'ren, and his own home. What hab we, sar ? No 
 wdfe, no chiFren, no home ; all am de white man's. Der 
 yer tink we wouldn't fight to be free?" and he pressed his 
 teeth together, and there passed again over his face the 
 same look it wore the moment before. 
 
 *' Come, come, Jim, this may be true of your race ; 
 but it don't apply to yourself. Your master is kind and 
 indulgent to youP 
 
 " He am kine to me, sar ; he orter be," said the negro, 
 the savage expression coming again into his eyes. For 
 a moment he hesitated ; then, taking a step toward me, 
 he placed his face down to mine, and hissed out these 
 words, every syllable seeming to come from the very 
 
THE COUNTRY CHURCH. 193 
 
 bottom of his being. " I tell you he orter be, sar, fur 
 
 I AM HIS OWN father's SON !" 
 
 ''His brother!" I exclaimed, springing to my feet, 
 and looking at him in blank amazement. "It can't be 
 true!" 
 
 " It am true, sar — as true as there's a hell ! His father 
 had my mother — when he got tired of her, he sold her 
 Souf 1 2car too young den ehen to know her P^ 
 
 '" This is horrible — too horrible !" I said. 
 
 "It am slavery, sar! Shouldn't we be contented?" 
 replied the negro with a grim smile. Drawing, then, a 
 large spring-knife from his pocket, he waved it above 
 his head, and added: "Ef I had de hull white race dar — 
 right dar under dat knife, don't yer tink I'd take all dar 
 lives — all at one blow — to be free !" 
 
 "And yet you refused to run away when the Aboli- 
 tionists tempted you, at the North. Why didn't you 
 go then ?" 
 
 " 'Cause I had promised, massa." 
 
 " Promised the Colonel before you went ?" 
 
 " No, sar ; he neber axed me ; but I can't tell you no 
 more. P'raps Scipio will, ef you ax him." 
 
 " Oh ! I see ; you're in that league of which Scip is a 
 leader. You'll get into trouble, sz^re," I repHed, in a 
 quick, decided tone, which startled him. 
 
 " You tole Scipio dat, sar, and what did he tell you?" 
 
 " That he didn't care for his life." 
 
 " No more do I, sar," said the negro, turning on his heel 
 with a proud, almost defiant gesture, and starting to go. 
 9 
 
194 AMONG THE PINES. 
 
 "A moment, Jim. You are very imprudent ; never 
 say these things to any other mortal ; promise me that." 
 
 "You'se bery good, massa, bery good. Scipio say 
 you's true, and he'm allers right. I ortent to hab said 
 what I hab ; but sumhow, sar, dat news brought it all 
 up Aar" (laying his hand on his breast), "and it wud 
 come out." 
 
 The tears filled his eyes as he said this, and turning 
 away without another word, he disappeared among the 
 trees. 
 
 I was almost stunned by this strange revelation, but 
 the more I reflected on it, the more probable it appeared. 
 Xow, too, that my thoughts were turned in that direc- 
 tion, I called to mind a certain resemblance between the 
 colonel and the negro that I had not heeded before. 
 Though one was a high-bred Southern gentleman, claim- 
 mg an old and proud descent, and the other a poor Af- 
 rican slave, they had some striking peculiarities which 
 might indicate a common origin. The likeness was not 
 in their features, for Jim's face was of the unmistakable 
 negro type, and his skin of a hue so dark that it seemed 
 impossible he could be the son of a white man (I after- 
 ward learned that his mother was a black of the deepest 
 dye), but it was in their form and general bearing. 
 They had the same closely-knit and sinewy frame, the 
 same erect, elastic step, the same rare blending of good- 
 natured ease and dignity-.-to which I have already al- 
 luded as characteristic of the Colonel — and in the wild 
 burst of passion that accompanied the negro's disclosure 
 
THE COUNTRY CHURCH. 195 
 
 of their rolationsliip, I saw the same fierce, unbridled 
 temper, whose outbreaks I had witnessed in my host. 
 
 Wliat a strange fate was theirs! Two brothers — the- 
 one the owner of three hundred slaves, and the first 
 man of his district — the other, a bonded menial, and so 
 poor that the very bread he ate, and the clothes he 
 wore, were another's ! 
 
 I passed the remainder of the afternoon in my room, 
 and did not again meet my host until the family as- 
 sembled at the tea-table. Jim then occupied his accus- 
 tomed seat behind the Colonel's chair, and that gentle- 
 man was in more than his usual spirits, though Madam 
 P , I thought, wore a sad and absent look. 
 
 The conversation rambled over a wide range of sub- 
 jects, and was carried on mainly by the Colonel and 
 myself; but toward the close of the meal the lady said 
 to me: 
 
 " Mr. K , Sam and young Junius are to be buried 
 
 this evening ; if you have never seen a negro funeral, 
 perhaps you'd like to attend." 
 
 " I will be happy to accompany you, Madam, if you 
 go," I replied, 
 
 " Thank you," said the lady. 
 
 " Pshaw ! Alice, you'll not go into the woods on so 
 cold a night as this !" said the Colonel. 
 
 "Yes, I think I ought to. Our people will expect 
 
ion AMONG THE PINKS. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE NEGRO FUNERAL. 
 
 It was about an hour after nightfall when we took 
 our way to the burial-ground. The moon had risen, 
 but the clouds which gathered when the sun went 
 down, covered its face, and were fast spreading their 
 thick, black shadows over the httle collection of negro- 
 houses. Near two new-made graves were gathered 
 some two hundred men and women, as dark as the 
 night that was setting around them. As we entered 
 the circle the old preacher pointed to seats reserved for 
 us, and the sable crowd fell back a few paces, as if, even 
 in the presence of death, they did not forget the differ- 
 ence between their race and ours. 
 
 Scattered here and there among the trees, torches of 
 lightwood threw a wild and fitful light over the little 
 cluster of graves, revealing the long, straight boxes of 
 rough pine that held the remains of the two negroes, 
 and lighting up the score or two of russet mounds where 
 slept the dusky kinsmen who had gone before them. 
 
 The simple head-boards that marked these humble 
 graves chronicled no bad biography or senseless rhyme, 
 and told no false tales of lives that might better not have 
 been, but "Sam, age 22;" "Pompey;" "Jake's Eliza;" 
 
THE NKGRO FUNERAL. 197 
 
 "Aunt Sue;" "Aunt Lucy's Tom;" "Joe;" and 
 other like inscriptions, scratched in rough characters on 
 the unplaned boards, were all the records there. The 
 rude tenants had passed away and "left no sign ;" tlieir 
 birth, their age, their deeds, were alike unknown — un- 
 known, but not forgotten ! for are they not written in 
 the book of His remembrance — and when he counteth 
 up his jewels, may not some of them be there ? 
 
 The queer, grotesque dress, and sad, earnest looks of 
 the black group ; the red, fitful glare of the blazing 
 pine, and the white fiices of the tapped trees, gleaming 
 through the gloom like so many sheeted ghosts gather- 
 ed to some death-carnival, made up a strange, wild scene 
 — the strangest and the wildest I had ever witnessed. 
 
 The covers of the rude coffins were not yet nailed 
 down, and when we arrived, the blacks were, one by 
 one, taking a last look at the faces of the dead. Soon, 
 Junius, holding his weeping wife by the hand, ap- 
 proached the smaller of the two boxes, which held all 
 that was left of their first-born. The mother, kneeling 
 by its side, kissed again and again the cold, shrunken 
 lips, and sobbed as if her heart would break ; and the 
 strong frame of the father shook convulsively, as he 
 choked down the great sorrow which welled up in his 
 throat, and turned away from his boy forever. As he 
 did so, old Pompey said : 
 
 " Don't grebe, June, he'm whar de wicked cease from 
 trubling, whar de weary am at rest." 
 
 " I knows it ; I knows it, Uncle. I knows de Lord 
 
198 AMONG TUE PI^sES. 
 
 am bery good to take 'iin 'way ; but why did he take 
 de young chile, and leab de ole man har ?" 
 
 " De Uttle sapling dat grow in de shade may die while 
 it'm young ; de great tree dat grow in de sun must Ub 
 till he'm rotted down." 
 
 These words were the one drop wanting to make the 
 great grief which was swelling in the negro's heart 
 overflow. Giving one low, wild cry, he folded his wife 
 in his arms, and burst into a paroxysm of tears. 
 
 "Come now, my chil'ren," said the old preacher, 
 kneeling down, " let us pray." 
 
 The whole assemblage then knelt on the cold ground, 
 while the old man prayed, and a more sincere, heart- 
 touching prayer never went up from human lips to that 
 God '' who hath made of one blood all nations that 
 dwell on the face of the earth." Though clothed in 
 rags, and in feeble age, at the mercy of a cruel task- 
 master, that old slave was richer far than his master. 
 His simple faith, which saw through the darkness around 
 him into the clear and radiant light of the unseen day, 
 was of far more worth than all the wealth and glory 
 of this world. I know not why it was, but as I looked 
 at him in the dim red Ught, which fell on his bent form 
 and cast a strange halo around his upturned face, I 
 thought of Stephen, as he gazed upward and behold 
 heaven open, and " the Son of Man seated at the right 
 hand of the throne of God." 
 
 Rising from his knees, the old preacher turned slowly 
 to the. black mass that encircled him, and said : 
 
THE XEGKO FUNERAL. 199 
 
 " My dear brederin and sisters, de Lord say dat ' de 
 dust shill return to de earth as it war, and de spirit to 
 Him who gabe it,' and now, 'cordiu' to dat text, my 
 friends, we'm gwine to put dis dust (pointing to the 
 two coffins) in de groun' whar it cum from, and whar it 
 shill lay till de bressed Lord blow de great trumpet on 
 de resumrection mornin'. De spirits of our brudders 
 har de Lord hab already took to hisseff. ' Our brud- 
 ders,' I say, my chil'ren, 'case ebery one dat de Lord 
 hab made am brudders to you and to me, whedder 
 dey'm bad or good, white or brack. 
 
 " Dis young chile, who hab gone 'way and leff his 
 pore fader and mudder suifrin' all ober wid grief, he 
 hab gone to de Lord, shore. He neber done no wrong ; 
 he allers 'bey'd his massa, and neber said no hard word, 
 nor found no fault, not eben w'en de cruel, bad ober- 
 seer put de load so heaby on him dat it kill him. Yes, 
 my brederin and sisters, he hab gone to de Lord ; gone 
 whar dey don't work in de swamps ; whar de little 
 chil'ren don't tote de big shingles fru de water up to dar 
 knees. No swamps am dar ; no shingles am dar ; dey 
 doan't need 'em, 'case dar de hous'n haint builded wid 
 hands, for dey'm all builded by de Lord, and gib'n to 
 de good niggers, ready-made, and for nuffin'. De Lord 
 don't say, like as ded massa say, ' Pomp, dar's de logs 
 and de shingles' (dey'm allers pore shingles, de kine dat 
 woant sell ; but massa say, ' dey''m good 'nuff for nig- 
 gers,' ef de roof do leak). De Lord doan't say : ' Xow, 
 Pomp, you go to work and build you' own house ; but 
 
200 AMONG thp: fixes. 
 
 mine dat yon does you, task all de time, jess de same!' 
 But de Lord — de bressed Lord — He say, w'en we goes 
 up dar, ' Dar, Pomp, dar's de house dat I'se been a 
 buildin' for you eber sence ' de foundation ob de worle.' 
 It'm done now, and you kin cum in ; your room am 
 jess ready, and ole Sal and de chil'ren dat I tuk 'way 
 from you eber so long ago, and dat you mourned ober 
 and cried ober as ef you'd neber see dem agin, dey'm dar 
 too, all on 'em, a waiting for you. Dey'm been fixin' up 
 de house 'spressly for you all dese long years, and dey'b 
 got it all nice and comfible now.' Yas, my friends, 
 glory be to Him, dat's w^hat our Heabenly massa say, 
 and who ob you wouldn't hab sich a massa as dat ? A 
 massa dat doant set you no hard tasks, and dat gibs you 
 'nuff to eat, and time to rest and to sing and to play! A 
 massa dat doan't keep no Yankee oberseer to foller you 
 'bout wid de big free-lashed whip ; but dat leads you 
 hisseff to de green pastures and de still waters ; and 
 w'en you'm a-faint and a-tired, and can't go no furder, 
 dat takes you up in his arms, and carries you in his 
 bosom ! What pore darky am dar dat wudn't hab sich 
 a massa? What one ob us, eben ef he had to work 
 jess so hard as we works now, wudn't tink heseff de 
 happiest nigger in de hull worle, ef he could hab sich 
 hous'n to lib in as dem? dem hous'n 'not made wid 
 hands, eternal in de heabens !' 
 
 " But glory, glory to de Lord ! my chil'ren, wese all 
 got dat massa, ef we only knowd it, and He'm buildin' 
 dem hous'n up dar, now, for ebery one ob us dat am try- 
 
THE NEGRO FUNERAL. 201 
 
 in' to be good and to lub one anoder. For ebery one 
 oh us^ I say, and we kin all git de fine hous'n ef we 
 try. 
 
 " Recolcmber, too, my brudders, dat our great Massa 
 am rich, bery rich, and he kin do all he promise. lie 
 doant say, w'en wese worked ober time to git some lit- 
 tle ting to comfort de sick chile, ' I knows. Pomp, you'se 
 done de work, an' I did 'gree to gib you de pay ; but 
 de fact am, Pomp, de frost hab come so sudden dis yar, 
 dat I'se loss de hull ob de sebenf h dippin', and Pse pore, 
 so pore, de chile muss go widout dis time.' No, no, 
 brudders, de bressed Lord He neber talk so. He neber 
 break, 'case de sebenfh dip am shet ofi", or 'case de price 
 of turpentime gwo down at de Xorf He neber S(;ll his 
 niggers down Souf, 'case he lose his money on he hoss- 
 race. No, my chil'ren, our Heabenly Massa am rich, 
 RICH, I say. He own all dis worle, and all de oder 
 worles dat am shinin' up dar in de sky. He own dem 
 all ; but he tink more ob one ob you, more ob one ob 
 you — pore, ign'rant brack folks dat you am — dan ob 
 all dem great worles ! Who wouldn't belong to sich a 
 Massa as dat ? Who wouldn't be his nigger — not his 
 slave — He doant hab no slaves — but his chile ; and ' ef 
 his chile, den his heir, de heir ob God, and de jined heir 
 wid de bressed Jesus.' O my chil'ren ! tink of dat ! Je 
 heir ob de Lord ob all de 'arth and all de sky ! What 
 white man kin be more'n dat ? 
 
 " Don't none ob you say you'm too wicked to be His 
 chile ; 'ca'se you haint. He lubs de wicked ones de best, 
 9* 
 
202 AMONG THE PINES. 
 
 'ca'se dey need his lub de most. Yas, my brudders, 
 eben de wickedest, ef dey's only sorry, and turn roun' 
 and leab off dar bad ways, he lub de bery best ob all, 
 'ca'se he'm all lub and pity. 
 
 " Sam, bar, my chil'ren, war wicked, but don't we 
 pity him ; don't we tink he hab a hard time, and don't 
 we tink de bad oberseer, who'm layin' dar in de house 
 jess ready to gwo and answer for it — don't we tink he 
 gabe Sam bery great probincation ? 
 
 " Dat's so," said a dozen of tiie auditors. 
 
 " Den don't you 'spose dat de bressed Lord know all 
 dat, and dat He pity Sam too. If we pore sinners feel 
 sorrer for him, haint de Lord's heart bigger'n our'n, and 
 haint he more sorrer for him ? Don't you tink dat ef 
 He lub and pity de bery worse whites, dat He lub and 
 pity pore Sam, who warn't so bery bad, arter all? 
 Don't you tink He'll gib Sam a house ? P'r'aps' 'twon 
 be one ob de fine hous'n, but wont it be a comfible 
 house, dat hain't no cracks, and one dat'll keep out de 
 wind and de rain ? And don't you s'pose, my chil'ren, 
 dat it'll be big 'nuff for Jule, too — dat pore, repentin' 
 chile, whose heart am clean broke, 'ca'se she hab brought- 
 en dis on Sam — and won't de Lord — de good Lord — de 
 tender-hearted Lord — won't He touch Sam's heart, and 
 coax him to forgib Jule, and to take her inter his house 
 up dar ? I knows he will, my chil'ren. I knows " 
 
 The old negro paused abruptly; there was a quick 
 swaying in the black crowd — a hasty rush — a wild cry — 
 and Sam's wife burst into the open space around the 
 
THE NEGRO FUNERAL. 208 
 
 preacher, and fell at his feet. Throwing her arms wildly 
 about him, she shrieked out : 
 
 " Say dat agin. Uncle Pomp ! for de lub ob de good 
 Lord, oh ! say dat agin !" 
 
 Bending down, the old man raised her gently in his 
 arms, and tulding her there, as he would have folded a 
 child, he said, in a voice thick with emotion : 
 
 " It am so, Juley. I knows dat Sam will forgib you, 
 and take you wid him up dar." 
 
 Fastening her arms frantically around Pompey's neck, 
 the poor woman burst into a paroxysm of grief, while 
 the old man's tears fell in great drops on her upturned 
 face, and many a dark cheek was wet, as with rain. 
 
 The scene had lasted a few minutes, and I was turning 
 away to hide the emotion that fast filled my eyes, and 
 was creeping up, with a chokmg feeling, to my throat, 
 when the Colonel, from the farther edge of the group, 
 called out : 
 
 " Take that d — d away — take her away. Pomp !" 
 
 The old negro turned toward his master with a sad, 
 grieved look, but gave no heed to the words; 
 
 " Take her away, some of you, I say," again cried the 
 Colonel. "Pomp, you mustn't keep these niggers all 
 night in the cold." 
 
 At the sound of her master's voice the metif woman 
 fell to the ground as if struck by a Minie-ball. Soon 
 several negroes lifted her up to bear her off; but she 
 struggled violently, and rent the woods with her wild 
 cries for " one more look at Sam." 
 
204: AMONG THE PINES. 
 
 " Look at him, you d — d ; then go, and don't let 
 
 me see you again." 
 
 She threw herself on the face of the dead, and cov- 
 ered the cold lips with her kisses ; then she rose, and 
 with a weak, uncertain step, staggered out into the 
 darkness. 
 
 Was not the system wliich so seared and hardened 
 that man's heart, begotten in the lowest hell? 
 
 The old preacher said no more, but four stout negro 
 men stepped forward, nailed down the lids, and lowered 
 the rough boxes into the ground. Turning to Madam 
 
 P , I saw her face was red with weeping. She 
 
 turned to go as the first earth fell, with a dull, heavy 
 sound, on the rude coffins ; and giving her my arm, I 
 led her from the scene. 
 
 As we walked slowly back to the house, a low wail — 
 half a chant, half a dirge — rose from the black crowd, 
 and floated ofi* on the still night air, till it died away 
 amid the far woods, in a strange, unearthly moan. With 
 that sad, wild music in our ears, we entered the mansion. 
 
 As we seated ourselves by the bright wood-fire on 
 the library hearth, obeying a sudden impulse which I 
 could not restrain, I said to Madam P : 
 
 " The Colonel's treatment of that poor woman is in- 
 explicable to me. Why is he so hard with her? It is 
 not in keeping with what I have seen of his character." 
 
 "The Colonel is a peculiar man," replied the lady. 
 " Xoble, generous, and a true friend, he is also a bitter, 
 implacable enemy. When he once conceives a dislike, 
 
THE NEGRO FUNERAL. 205 
 
 his feelings become even vindictive. ^N'ever having had 
 an iingratified wish, he does not know how to feel for 
 the sorrows of those beneath him. Sam, though a proud, 
 headstrong, unruly character, was a great favorite with 
 him ; lie felt his death much ; and as he attributes it to 
 Jule, he feels terribly bitter toward her. She Avill have 
 to be sold to get her out of his way, for he will never 
 forgive her." 
 
 It was some time before the Colonel joined us, and 
 when at last he made his appearance, he seemed in no 
 mood for conversation. The lady soon retired ; but 
 feeling unlike sleep, I took down a book from the shelves, 
 drew my chair near the fire, and fell to reading. The 
 Colonel, too, was deep in the newspapers, till, after a 
 while, Jim entered the room : 
 
 " I'se cum to ax ef you've nirffin more to-night, Cun- 
 nel ?" said the negro. 
 
 " No, nothing, Jim," replied his master ; " but, stay 
 — hadn't you better sleep in front of Moye's door ?" 
 
 "Dunno, sar; jess as you say." 
 
 "I think you'd better," returned the Colonel. 
 
 " Yas, massa," and the darky left the apartment. 
 
 The Colonel shortly rose, and bade me "good-night." 
 I continued reading till the clock struck eleven, when I 
 laid the book aside and went to my room. 
 
 I lodged, as I have said before, on the first floor, and 
 was obliged to pass by the overseer's apartment in go- 
 ing to mine. Wrapped in his blanket, and stretched at 
 full length on the ground, Jim lay there, fast asleep. 
 
206 AMONG THE PINES. 
 
 I passed on, thinking of the wisdom of placing a tired 
 negro on guard over an acute and desperate Yankee. 
 
 I rose in the morning with the sun, and liad partly 
 donned my clothing, when I heard a loud uproar in the 
 hall. Opening my door, I saw Jim pounding vehe- 
 mently at the Colonel's room, and looking as pale as is 
 possible with a person of his complexion. 
 
 "What the d — 1 is the matter?" asked his master, 
 who now, partly dressed, stepped into the hall. 
 
 " Moye hab gone, sar — he'm gone and took Firefly 
 (my host's five-thousand-dollar thorough-bred) wid him." 
 
 For a moment the Colonel stood stupified ; then, his 
 face turning to a cold, clayey white, he seized the black 
 by the throat, and hurled him to the floor. With his 
 thick boot raised, he seemed about to dash out the man's 
 brains with its ironed heel, when, on the instant, the oc- 
 toroon woman rushed, in her night-clothes, from his 
 room, and, with desperate energy, pushed him aside, 
 exclaiming : " What would you do ? Remember who 
 HE is!" 
 
 The negro rose, and the Colonel, without a word, 
 passed into his own apartment. 
 
THE PURSUIT. 207 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 THE PURSUIT. 
 
 I SAUNTERED out, after the events recorded in the last 
 chapter, to inhale the fresh air of the morning. A slight 
 rain had fallen during the night, and it still moistened 
 the dead leaves which carpeted the woods, making an 
 extended walk out of the question ; so, seating myself 
 on the trunk of a fallen tree, in the vicinity of the house, 
 I awaited the hour for breakfast. I had not remained 
 there long before I heard the voices of my host and 
 Madam P on the front piazza : 
 
 " I tell you, Alice, I cannot — must not do it. If I 
 overlook this, the discipline of the plantation is at an 
 end." 
 
 " Do what you please with him when you return," re- 
 plied the lady, " but do not chain him up, and leave me, 
 at such a time, alone. You know Jim is the only one I 
 can depend on." 
 
 " Well, have your own way. You know, my darhng, 
 I would not cause you a moment's uneasiness, but I 
 must follow up this d d Moye." 
 
 I was seated where I could hear, though I could not 
 see the speakers, but it was evident from the tone of the 
 last remark, that an action accompanied it quite as ten- 
 
208 AMONG THE PIXKS. 
 
 der as the words. Being unwilling to overhear more 
 of a private conversation, I rose and approached them. 
 
 "Ah ! my dear fellow," said the Colonel, on perceiving 
 me, " are you stirring so early ? I was about to send to 
 your room to ask if you'll go with me up the country. 
 
 My d d overseer has got away, and I must follow 
 
 him at once." 
 
 " I'll go with pleasure," I replied. " Which way do 
 you think Moye has gone ?" 
 
 " The shortest cut to the railroad, probably ; but old 
 CaBsar will track him." 
 
 A servant then announced breakfast — an early one 
 having been prepared. We hurried through the meal 
 with all speed, and the other preparations being soon 
 over, were in twenty minutes in our saddles, and ready 
 for the journey. The mulatto coachman, with a third 
 horse, was at the door, ready to accompany us. As we 
 mounted, the Colonel said to him : 
 
 " Go and call Sam, the driver." 
 
 The darky soon returned with the heavy, ugly-visaged 
 
 black who had been whipped, by Madam P ^'s order, 
 
 the day before. 
 
 "^am," said his master, "I shall be gone some days, 
 and I leave the field-work in your hands. Let me have 
 a good account of you when I return." 
 
 " Yas, massa, you shill dat," repHed the negro. 
 
 " Put Jule — Sam's Jule — into the woods, and see that 
 she does full tasks," continued the Colonel. 
 
 " Haint she wanted 'mong de nusses, massa ?" 
 
THE PURSUIT. 
 
 209 
 
 '^ Put some one else there— give her field-work ; she 
 
 needs it." 
 
 On large plantations the young children of the field- 
 women are left with them only at night, and are herded 
 together during the day, in a separate cabin, in charge 
 of nurses. These nurses are feeble, sickly women, or re- 
 cent mothers ; and the fact of Jule's being employed in 
 that capacity was evidence that she was unfit for out- 
 door labor. 
 
 Madam P , who was waiting on the piazza to see 
 
 us off, seemed about to remonstrate against this ar- 
 rancrement, but she hesitated a moment, and in that 
 moment we had bidden her " Good-bye," and galloped 
 
 away. 
 
 AVe were soon at the cabin of the negro-hunter, and 
 the coachman, dismountmg, called him out. 
 
 " Hurry up, hurry up," said the Colonel, as Sandy ap- 
 peared, " we haven't a moment to spare." 
 
 "J^st so— jest so, Cunnel; Til jine ye in a jifiiu," re- 
 plied he of the reddish extremities. 
 
 Emerging from the shanty with provoking delibera- 
 tion—the impatience of my host had infected me— the 
 clay-eater slowly proceeded to mount the horse of the 
 negro, while his dirt-bedraggled wife, and clay-encrusted 
 children, followed close at his heels, tlie younger ones 
 huddling around for the tokens of paternal affection 
 usual at parting. Whether it was the noise they made, 
 or their frightful aspect, I know not, but the horse, a 
 spirited animal, took fright on their appearance, and 
 
210 AMONG THE PINES. 
 
 nearly broke away from the negro, who was holding 
 liini. Seeing this, the Colonel said : 
 
 " Clear out, you young scare-crows. Into the house 
 with you." 
 
 " They arn't no more scare-crows than yourn, Cunnel 
 
 J ," said the mother, in a decidedly belligerent tone. 
 
 "You may 'buse my old man — he kin stand it-— but ye 
 shan't blackguard my young 'uns!" 
 
 The Colonel laughed, and was about to make a good- 
 natured reply, when Sandy yelled out : 
 
 " Gwo enter the house and shet up, ye ." 
 
 With this aflectionate farewell, he turned his horse 
 and led the way up the road. 
 
 The dog, who was a short distance in advance, soon 
 gave a piercing howl, and started off at the speed of a 
 reindeer. He had struck the trail, and urging our 
 horses to their fastest speed, we followed. 
 
 We were all well mounted, but the mare the Colonel 
 had given me was a magnificent animal, as fleet as the 
 wind, and with a gait so easy that her back seemed a 
 rocking-chair. Saddle-horses at the South are trained 
 to the gallop — Southern riders not deeming it necessary 
 that one's breakfost should be churned into a Dutch 
 cheese by a trotting nag, in order that he may pass for 
 a horseman. 
 
 We had ridden on at a perfect break-neck pace for half 
 an hour, when the Colonel shouted to our companion : 
 
 "Sandy, call the dog in; the horses wont last ten 
 miles at this gait — we've a long ride before us." 
 
THE puusmr. 211 
 
 The dirt-eater did as he was bidden, and we soon set- 
 tled into a gentle gallop. 
 
 We had i)assed through a dense forest of pines, but 
 were emerging into a '' bottom country," where some of 
 the finest deciduous trees — then brown and leafless, but 
 bearing promise of the opening beauty of spring — reared, 
 along with the unfadmg evergreen, their tall stems in 
 the air. The live-oak, the sycamore, the Spanish mul- 
 berry, the holly, and the persimmon — gaily festooned 
 with wreaths of the white and yellow jessamine, the 
 woodbine and the cypress-moss, and bearing here and 
 there a bouquet of the mistletoe, with its deep green and 
 glossy leaves upturned to the sun — flung their broad 
 arms over the road, forming an archway grander and 
 more beautifiil than any the hand of man ever wove for 
 the greatest hero the world has worshipped. 
 
 The woods were free from underbrush, but a coarse, 
 wiry grass, unfit for fodder, and scattered through them 
 in detatched patches, was the only vegetation visible. 
 The ground was mainly covered with the leaves and 
 burrs of the pine. 
 
 We passed great numbers of swine, feeding on these 
 burrs, and now and then a horned animal browsino- on 
 the cypress-moss where it hung low on the trees. I ob- 
 served that nearly all the swine were marked, though 
 they seemed too wild to have ever seen an owner, or a 
 human habitation. They were a long, loan, slab-sided 
 race, with legs and shoulders like deer, and bearing 
 no sort of resemblance to the ordinary hog, except in 
 
212 AMONG THE PINKS. 
 
 the snout, and that feature was so much longer and 
 sharper than the nose of the Northern swine, that I 
 doubt if Agassiz would class the two as one species. 
 However, they have their uses — they make excellent 
 bacon, and are " death on snakes." Ireland itself is not 
 more free from the serpentine race than are the districts 
 frequented by these long-nosed quadrupeds. 
 
 " We call them Carolina race-horses," said the Colonel, 
 as he finished an account of their peculiarities. 
 
 " Race-horses ! Why, are they fleet of foot ?" 
 
 " Fleet as deer. I'd match one against an ordinary 
 horse at any time." 
 
 " Come, my friend, you're practising on my ignorance 
 of natural history." 
 
 " Not a bit of it. See ! there's a good specimen 
 yonder. If we can get him into the road, and fairly 
 started, I'll bet you a dollar he'll beat Sandy's mare on 
 a half-mile stretch — Sandy to hold the stakes and have 
 the winnings." 
 
 " Well, agreed," I said, laughing, " and I'll give the 
 pig ten rods the start." 
 
 " No," replied the Colonel, " you can't afford it. 
 He'll have to start ahead, but you'll need that in the 
 count. Come, Sandy, will you go in for the pile ?" 
 
 I'm not sure that the native would not have run a 
 race with Old Nicholas himself, for the sake of so much 
 money. To him it was a vast' sum ; and as he thought 
 of it, his eyes struck small sparks, and his enormous 
 beard and mustachio vibrated with somethino^ that 
 
THK PURSUIT. 213 
 
 faintly resembled a laugh. Replying to the question, 
 he said : 
 
 "Kinder reckon I wull, Gunnel; howsomdever, I keeps 
 the stakes, eny how ?" 
 
 " Of course," said the planter, " but be honest — win 
 if you can." 
 
 Sandy halted his horse in the road, while the planter 
 and I took to the woods on either side of the way. The 
 Colonel soon manceuvred to separate the selected ani- 
 mal from the rest of the herd, and, without much diffi- 
 culty, got him into the road, where, by closing down on 
 each flank, we kept him tUl he and Sandy were fairly 
 under way. 
 
 "He'll keep to the road when once started," said the 
 Colonel, laughing: "and he'll show you some of the 
 tallest running you ever saw in your life." 
 
 Away they went. At first the pig, seeming not ex- 
 actly to comprehend the programme, cantered off at 
 a leisurely pace, though he held his own. Soon, how- 
 ever, he cast an eye behind him — halted a moment to 
 collect his thoughts and reconnoitre — and then, lower- 
 ing his head and elevating his tail, put forth all his 
 speed. And such speed ! Talk of a deer, the wind, or 
 a steam-engine — they are not to be compared with it. 
 Xothing in nature I ever saw run — except, it may be, a 
 Southern tornado, or a Sixth Ward politician — could 
 liope to distance that pig. He gained on the horse at 
 every step, and it was soon evident that my dollar was 
 gone ! 
 
214: AMONG THE FIXES. 
 
 " *In for a shilling, in for a pound,' is the adage, so, 
 turning to the Colonel, I said, as intelligibly as my 
 horse's rapid pace and my excited risibiUties Avould 
 allow : 
 
 " I see I've lost, but I'll go you another dollar that 
 you can't beat the pig !" 
 
 " jS'o — sir !" the Colonel got out in the breaks of his 
 laughing explosions ; " you can't hedge on me in that 
 manner. I'll go a dollar that you can't do it, and your 
 mare is the fastest on the road. She won me a thou- 
 sand not a month ago." 
 
 "Well, I'll do it— Sandy to have the stakes." 
 
 " Agreed," said the Colonel, and away ice went. 
 
 The swinish racer was about a hundred yards ahead 
 when I gave the mare the reins, and told her to go. 
 And she did go. She flew against the wind with a mo- 
 tion so rapid that ray face, as it clove the air, felt as if 
 cuttmg its way through a solid body, and the trees, as 
 we passed, seemed struck with panic, and running for 
 dear life in the opposite direction. 
 
 For a few moments I thought the mare was gaining, 
 and I turned to the Colonel with an exultant look. 
 
 "Don't shout till you win, my boy," he called out 
 from the distance where I was fast leaving him and 
 Sandy. 
 
 I did not shout, for spite of all my efibrts the space 
 between me and the pig seenied to widen. Yet I kept 
 on, determined to win, till, at the end of a short half- 
 mile, we reached the Waccamaw — the swine still a 
 
THE PURsmr. 215 
 
 hundred yards ahead! There his pigship halted, turn- 
 ed coolly around, eyed me for a moment, then with a 
 quiet, deliberate trot, turned otf into the woods. 
 
 A bend in the road kept my companions out of sight 
 for a few moments, and when they came up I had some- 
 what recovered my breath, though the mare was blow- 
 ing hard, and reeking with foam. 
 
 " W(j11," said the Colonel, " what do you think of our 
 bacon ' as it runs ?' " 
 
 " I think the Southern article can't be beat, whether 
 raw or cooked, standing or running." 
 
 At this moment the hound, who had been leisurely 
 jogging along in the rear, disdaining to join in the race 
 in which his dog of a master and I had engaged, came 
 up, and dashing quickly on to the river's edge, set up 
 a most dismal howling. The Colonel dismounted, and 
 clambering down the bank, which was there twenty feet 
 high, and very steep, shouted : 
 
 " The d — d Yankee has swum the stream !" 
 
 " Why so ?" I asked. 
 
 " To cover his tracks and delay pursuit ; but he has 
 overshot the mark. There is no other road within ten 
 miles, and he must have taken to this one again beyond 
 here. He's lost twenty miimtes by this manoeuvre. Come, 
 Sandy, call in the dog, we'll push on a Httle faster." 
 
 " But he tuk to t'other bank, Cunnel. Shan't we trail 
 him thar ?" asked Sandy. 
 
 " And suppose he found a boat here," I suggested, 
 " and made the shore some ways down ?" 
 
216 AMONO THE PINES. 
 
 " He couldn't get Firefly into a flat — we should only 
 waste time in scouring the other bank. The swamp 
 this side the next run has forced him into the road 
 within five miles. The trick is transparent. He took 
 me for a fool," repHed the Colonel, answering both ques- 
 tions at once. 
 
 I had reined my horse out of the road, and when my 
 companions turned to go, was standing at the edge of 
 the bank, overlooking the river. Suddenly I saw, on 
 one of the abutments of the bridge, what seemed a long, 
 black log — strange to say, in motion ! 
 
 " Colonel," I shouted, " see there ! a Uve log as I'm a 
 white man !" 
 
 " Lord bless you," cried the planter, taking an observa- 
 tion, "it's an alligator!" 
 
 I said no more, but pressing on after the hound, soon 
 left my companions out of sight. For long afterward, 
 the Colonel, in a doleful way, would allude to my la- 
 mentable deficiency in natural history — particularly in 
 such branches as bacon and "live logs." 
 
 I had ridden about five miles, keeping w^ell up with 
 the hound, and had reached the edge of the swamp, 
 when suddenly the dog darted to the side of the road, 
 and began to yelp in the most frantic manner. Dis- 
 mounting, and leading my horse to the spot, I made out 
 plainly the print of Firefly's feet in the sand. There 
 was no mistaking it — that round shoe on the off fore- 
 foot. (The horse had, when a colt, a cracked hoof, and 
 though the wound was outgrown, the foot was still ten- 
 
THE prRF^nr. 217 
 
 der.) These prints were dry, while the tracks we had 
 seen at the river were tilled with water, thus proving 
 that the rain had ceased while the overseer was passing 
 between tlie two places. He was therefore not far off. 
 
 The Colonel and Sandy soon rode up. 
 
 '' Caught a live log ! eh, my good fellow ?" asked my 
 host, with a laugh. 
 
 " No ; but here's the overseer as plain as daylight ; 
 and his tracks not wet !" 
 
 Quickly dismounting, he examined the ground, and 
 then exclaimed: 
 
 "The d — 1 it's a fact — here not four hours ago! 
 
 He has doubled on his tracks since, I'll wager, and not 
 made twenty miles — we'll have him before night, sure ! 
 Come, mount — quick." 
 
 We sprang into our saddles, and again pressed rapidly 
 on after the dog, who followed the scent at the top of 
 his speed. 
 
 Some three miles more of wet, miry road took us to 
 the run of which the Colonel had spoken. Arrived 
 there, we found the hound standing on the bank, wet to 
 the skin, and looking decidely chop-fallen. 
 
 " Death and d n !" shouted the Colonel ; " the dog 
 
 has swum the run, and lost the trail on the other side ! 
 The d — d scoundrel has taken to the water, and balked 
 us after all ! Take up the dog, Sandy, and try him again 
 over there." 
 
 The native spoke to Caesar, who bounded on to the 
 horse's back in front of his master. They then crossed 
 10 
 
218 AMONG TUE PINKS. 
 
 the stream, which there was about fifty yards wide, and 
 BO shallow that in the deepest part the water merely 
 touched the horse's breast ; but it was so riled by the 
 recent rain that we could not distinguish the foot-prints 
 of the horse beneath the surface. 
 
 The dog ranged up and down the opposite bank, but 
 all to no purpose : the overseer had not been there. 
 He had gone either up or down the stream — in which 
 direction, was now the question. Callmg Sandy back 
 to our side of the run, the Colonel proceeded to hold a 
 ' council of war.' Each one gave his opinion, which was 
 canvassed by the others, with as much solemnity as if 
 the fate of the Union hung on the decision. 
 
 The native proposed we should separate — one go 
 up, another down the stream, and the third, with the 
 dog, follow the road ; to which he thought Moye had 
 finally returned. Those who should explore the run 
 would easily detect the horse's tracks where he had 
 left it, and then taking a straight course to the road, 
 all might meet some five miles further on, at a place 
 indicated. 
 
 I gave my adhesion to Sandy's plan, but the Colonel 
 overruled it on the ground of the waste of time that 
 would be incurred in thus recovering the overseer's 
 trail. 
 
 " Why not," he said, " strike at once for the end of his 
 route ? Why follow the slow steps he took in order to 
 throw us ofi" the track ? He has not come back to this 
 road. Ten miles below tliere is another one leadings also 
 
THE PURSUIT. 219 
 
 to the railway. lie has taken that. We might as 
 well send Sandy and the dog back and go on by our- 
 selves." 
 
 " But if bound for the Station, why should he wade 
 through the creek here, ten miles out of his way ? Why 
 not go straight on by the road ?" I asked. 
 
 " Because he knew the dog would track him, and he 
 hoped by taking to the run to make me think he 
 had crossed the country instead of striking for the rail- 
 road." 
 
 I felt sure the Colonel was wrong, but knowing him 
 to be tenacious of his own opinions, I made no further 
 objection. 
 
 Directing Sandy to call on Madam P and acquamt 
 
 her with our progress, he then dismissed the negro- 
 hunter, and once more led the way up the road. 
 
 The next twenty miles, like our previous route, lay 
 through an unbroken forest. As we left the water- 
 courses, we saw only the gloomy pines, which there — 
 the region being remote from the means of transporta- 
 tion — were seldom tapped, and presented few of the 
 openings that invite the weary traveller to the dwellings 
 of the hospitable planter. 
 
 After a time the sky, which had been bright and 
 cloudless all the morning, grew overcast, and gave out 
 tokens of a coming storm. A black cloud gathered in 
 the west, and random flashes darted from it far off in 
 the distance ; then gradually it neared us ; low mutter- 
 ings sounded in the air, and the tops of the tall pines a 
 
220 AMONG THE PINES. 
 
 few miles away, were lit up now and then with a fitful 
 blaze, all the brighter for the deeper gloom that suc- 
 ceeded. Then a terrific flash and peal broke directly- 
 over us, and a great tree, struck by a red-hot bolt, fell 
 with a deafening crash, half way across our path. Peal 
 after peal followed, and then the rain — not filtered into 
 drops as it fiills from our colder sky, but in broad, blind- 
 ing sheets — poured full and heavy on our shelterless 
 heads. 
 
 "Ah! there it comes !" shouted the Colonel. "God 
 have mercy upon us !" 
 
 As he spoke, a crashing, crackling, thundering roar 
 rose above the storm, fiUing the air, and shaking the 
 soHd earth till it trembled beneath our horses' feet, as if 
 upheaved by a volcano. Xearer and nearer the sound 
 came, till it seemed that all the legions of darkness were 
 unloosed in the forest, and were mowing down the great 
 pines as the mower mows the grass with his scythe. 
 Then an awful, sweeping crash thundered directly at our 
 backs, and turning round, as if to face a foe, my horse, 
 who had borne the roar and the blinding flash till then 
 unmoved, paralyzed with dread, and panting for breath, 
 sunk to the ground ; while close at my side the Colonel, 
 standing erect in his stirrups, his head uncovered to the 
 pouring sky, cried out : 
 
 "Thank God, we ake saved!" 
 
 There — not three hundred yards in our rear, had pass- 
 ed the TORNADO — uprooting trees, prostrating dwellings, 
 and sending many a soul to its last account, but sparing 
 
THE PURSUIT. 921 
 
 US for another day ! For thirty miles through the forest 
 it had mowed a swath of two hundred feet, and then 
 moved on to stir tlie ocean to its briny depths. 
 
 With a full heart, I remounted, and turning my horse, 
 pressed on in the rain. We said not a Avord till a friend- 
 ly opening pointed the way to a planter's dwelling. 
 Then calling to me to follow, the Colonel dashed up the 
 by-path which led to the mansion, and in five minutes 
 we were warming our chilled limbs before the cheerful 
 fire that roared and crackled on its broad hearth-stone. 
 
222 a:viong the fixes. 
 
 CHAPTER Xn. 
 
 THE TANKEE-SCHOOL-MISTRESS. 
 
 The house was a large, old-fashioned frame building, 
 square as a packing-box, and surrounded, as all country- 
 dwellings at the South are, by a broad, open piazza. 
 Our summons was answered by its owner, a well-to-do, 
 substantial, middle-aged planter, wearing the ordinary 
 homespun of the district, but evidently of a station in 
 life much above the common "corn-crackers" I had seen 
 at the country meeting-house. The Colonel was an ac- 
 quaintance, and greeting us with great cordiality, our 
 host led the way directly to the sitting-room. There we 
 found a bright, blazing fire, and a pair of bright, blazing 
 eyes, the latter belonging to a blithesome young woman 
 of about twenty, with a cheery face, and a half-rustic, 
 half-cultivated air, whom our new friend introduced to 
 us as his wife. 
 
 " I regret not having had the pleasure of meeting Mrs. 
 
 S before, but am very happy to meet her now," said 
 
 the Colonel, with all the well-bred, gentlemanly ease that 
 distinguished him. 
 
 " The pleasure is mutual, Colonel J ," replied the 
 
 Lady, "but thirty miles in this wild country, should not 
 have made a neighbor so distant as you have been." 
 
THE YANKEE SCHOOL-AHSTRESS. 223 
 
 " Business, madam, is at fault, as your husband knows. 
 I have much to do ; and besides, all my connections are 
 in the other direction — with Charleston." 
 
 "It's a fact, Sally, the Colonel is the d busy 
 
 man in these parts. Not content with a big planta- 
 tion and three hundred niggers, he looks after all 
 South Carolina, and the rest of creation to boot," said 
 our host. 
 
 "Tom will have his joke. Madam, but he's not far 
 from the truth." 
 
 Seemg Ave were dripping wet, the lady offered us a 
 change of clothing, and retiring to a chamber, we each 
 appropriated a suit belonging to our host, giving our 
 own to a servant, to be dried. 
 
 Arrayed in our fresh apparel, we soon rejoined our 
 friends in the sitting-room. The new garments fitted 
 the Colonel tolerably well, but, though none too long, 
 they were a world too wide for me, and as my wet hair 
 hung in smooth flat folds down my cheeks, and my limp 
 shirt-collar fell over my linsey coat, I looked for all the 
 world like a cross between a theatrical Aminidab Sleek 
 and Sir John Falstaff, with the stuffing omitted. "When 
 our hostess caught sight of me in this new garb, she 
 rubbed her hands together in great glee, and, springing 
 to her feet, gave vent to a perfect storm of laughter — 
 jerking out between the explosions : 
 
 " Why — you — you — look jest like — a scare-crow." 
 
 There was no mistaking that hearty, hoydenish man- 
 ner ; and seizing both of her hands in mine, I shouted : 
 
224: A^IONG THE PINES. 
 
 "I've found you out — you're a " countiy- woman" ol 
 mine — a clear-blooded Yankee I" 
 
 "What! you a Yankee I", she exclaimed, still laugh- 
 ing, " and here with this horrid ' secesherner,' as they 
 call him." 
 
 "True as preachin', Ma'am," I replied, adopting the 
 drawl — " all the way from Down East, and Union, tu, 
 stiff as buckram." 
 
 "Du tell !" she exclaimed, swinging my hands togethei 
 as she held them in hers. " If I warn't hitched to this 
 'ere feller, I'd give ye a smack right on the spot. I'm 
 so glad to see ye." 
 
 "Do it, Sally — never mind me," cried her husband, 
 joining heartily in the merriment. 
 
 Seizing the collar of my coat with both hands, she 
 drew my face down till my lips almost touched hers (I 
 was preparing to blush, and the Colonel shouted, "Come, 
 come, I shall tell his wife") : but then turnmg quickly 
 on her heel, she threw herself into a chair, exclaiming, 
 "J" wouldn't mind, but the old man would he jealous ^'^ 
 Addressing the Colonel, she added, "Tow needn't be 
 troubled, sir, no Yankee girl will kiss you till you change 
 your politics." 
 
 " Give me that inducement, and I'll change them on 
 the spot," said the Colonel. 
 
 " No, no, Dave, 'twouldu't do," replied the planter ; 
 " the conversion wouldn't be genuwine — besides such 
 things arn't proper, except 'mong blood-relations — and 
 all the Yankees, you know are first-cousins." 
 
THE PURSUIT. 225 
 
 The conversation then snbsided into a more placid 
 mood, but lost none of its genial, good humor. Re- 
 freshments were soon set before us, and while partaking 
 of tliem I gathered from our hostess that she was a Ver- 
 mont country-girl, who, some three years before, had 
 l)een induced by liberal pay to come South as a teacher. 
 A sister accompanied her, and about a year after their ar- 
 rival, she married a neighboring planter. Wishing to be 
 near her sister, our hostess had also married and settled 
 down for life in that wild region. " I like the country 
 very well," she added ; " it's a great sight easier living 
 here than in Vermont ; but I do hate these lazy, shiftless, 
 good-for-nothing niggers ; they are so slow, and so care- 
 less, and so dirty, that I sometimes think they w^ill worry 
 the very life out of me. I du believe I'm the hardest 
 mistress in all the district." 
 
 I learned from her that a majority of the teachers at 
 the South are from the North, and principally, too, from 
 'New England. Teaching is a very laborious employ- 
 ment there, far more so than with us, for the Southern- 
 ers have no methods like ours, and the same teacher 
 usually has to hear lessons in branches all the way from 
 Greek and Latin to the simple ABC. The South has 
 no system of public instruction ; no common schools ; 
 no means of placing within the reach of the sons and 
 daughters of the poor even the elements of knowl- 
 edge. While the children of the wealthy are most care- 
 fully educated, it is the policy of the ruling class to keep 
 the great mass of the people in ignorance ; and so long 
 10* 
 
AMONG THE PINES. 
 
 as this policy continues, so long will that section be as 
 far behind the North as it now is, in all that constitutes 
 true prosperity and greatness. 
 
 The afternoon wore rapidly and pleasantly away in 
 the genial society of our wayside-friends. Politics were 
 discussed (our host was a Union man), the prospects of 
 the turpentine crop talked over, the recent news can- 
 vassed, the usual neighborly topics touched upon, and — 
 I hesitate to confess it — a considerable quantity of corn 
 whiskey disposed of, before the Colonel discovered, all 
 at once, that it was six o'clock, and we were still seven- 
 teen miles from the railway station. Arraying our- 
 selves again in our dried garments, we bade a hasty but 
 regretful " good-bye" to our hospitable entertainers, and 
 once more took to the road. 
 
 The storm had cleared away, but the ground was 
 heavy with the recent rain, and our horses were sadly 
 jaded with the ride of the morning. We gave them the 
 reins, and, jogging on at their leisure, it was ten o'clock 
 at night before they landed us at the little hamlet of 
 W Station, in the state of North Carohna. 
 
THE RAILWAY STATION. 227 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THE RAILWAY STATION. 
 
 A LARGE hotel, or station-house, and about a dozen 
 log shanties made up the village. Two of these struc- 
 tures were negrcJ-cabins ; two were small groceries, in 
 which the vilest alcoholic compounds were sold at a bit 
 (ten cents) a glass ; one was a lawyer's office, in which 
 was the post-office, and a justice's court, where, once 
 a month, the small offenders of the vicinity " settled up 
 their accounts ;" one was a tailoring and clothing estab- 
 lishment, w^here breeches were patched at a dime a 
 stitch, and payment taken in tar and turpentine ; and 
 the rest were private dwellings of one apartment, occu- 
 pied by the grocers, the tailor, the switch-tenders, the 
 postmaster, and the negro attaches of the railroad. 
 The church and the school-house — the first buildings to 
 go up in a Xorthern village — I have omitted to enumer- 
 ate, because — they were not there. 
 
 One of the natives told me tliat the lawyer was a 
 " stuck-up critter ;" " he don't live; he don't — he puts-up 
 at th' hotel." And the hotel ! Would Shakspeare, had 
 he have known it, have wa-itten of taking one's ease 
 at his inn ? It was a long, framed building, two stories 
 
AMONG THE PINES. 
 
 high, with a piazza extending across the side and a 
 front door crowded as closely into one corner as the 
 width of the joist would permit. Under the piazza, 
 ranged along the wall, was a low bench, occupied by 
 about forty tin wash-basins and water-pails, and with 
 coarse, dirty crash towels suspended on rollers above it. 
 By the side of each of these towels hung a comb and a 
 brush, to which a lock of everybody's hair was clinging, 
 forming in the total a stock sufficient to establish any 
 barber in the wig business. 
 
 It was, as I have said, ten o'clock when we reached 
 the Station. Throwing the bridles of our horses over 
 the hitching-posts at the door, we at once made our 
 way to the bar-room. That aj^artment, which was in 
 the rear of the building, and communicated with by a 
 long, narrow passage, was filled almost to suffocation, 
 when we entered, by a cloud of tobacco smoke, the fumes 
 of bad whiskey, and a crowd of drunken chivalry, through 
 whom the Colonel with great difficulty elbowed his w^ay 
 to the counter, where "mine host" and two assistants 
 were dispensing " hquid death," at the rate of ten cents 
 a glass, and of ten glasses a minute. 
 
 " Hello, Gunnel, how ar' ye," cried the red-faced 
 liquor-vender, as he caught sight of my companion, and, 
 rehnquishing his lucrative employment for a moment, 
 took the Colonel's hand, " how ar' ye ?" 
 
 "Quite weU, thank you, Miles," said the Colonel, 
 with a certain patronizing air, " have you seen my man. 
 3Ioye ?" 
 
THE RAILWAY STATION. 229 
 
 ''Moye, no ! What's up with liim ?" 
 
 " He's run away with my horse, Firefly — I thought 
 he would have made for this station. At what time does 
 the next train go up?" 
 
 " Wal, it's due half arter 'leven, but 'taint gin'rally 
 'long till nigh one." 
 
 The Colonel was turning to join me at the door, 
 when a well-dressed young man of very unsteady move- 
 ments, who was filling a glass at the counter, and star- 
 ing at him with a sort of dreamy amazement, stammered 
 out, " Moye — run — run a — way, zir ! that — k — kant be 
 — ^by Gr — . I know — him, zir — he's a — a friend of mine, 
 and — I'm — I'm d d if he ain't hon — honest." 
 
 " About as honest as the Yankees run," replied the 
 Colonel, " he's a d d thief, sir!" 
 
 " Look here — here, zir — don't — don't you — you zay 
 
 any — thing 'gainst — the Yankees. D d if — if I 
 
 aint — one of 'em mezelf — zir," said the fellow stagger- 
 ing toward the Colonel. 
 
 "Z don't care ichat you are; you're drunk." 
 
 " You lie — you — you d d 'ris — 'ristocrat," was 
 
 the reply, as the inebriated gentleman aimed a blow, 
 with all his unsteady might, at the Colonel's face. 
 
 The South Carolinian stepped quickly aside, and dex- 
 terously threw his foot before the other, who — his bloAv 
 not meeting the expected resistance — was unable to re- 
 cover himself, and fell headlong to the floor. The planter 
 turned on his heel, and was walking quietly away, when 
 the sharp report of a pistol sounded through the apart- 
 
230 AMONG THE PINES. 
 
 ment, and a ball tore through the top of his Ijoot, 
 and lodged in the wall within two feet of where I was 
 standing. With a spring, quick and sure as the tiger's, 
 the Colonel was on the drunken man. Wrenching away 
 the weapon, he seized the fellow by the neck-tie, and 
 drawing him up to nearly his full height, dashed him at 
 one throw to the other end of the room. Then raising 
 the revolver he coolly levelled it to fire ! 
 
 But a dozen strong men were on him. The pistol 
 was out of his hand, and his arms were pinioned in an 
 instant ; while cries of " Fair play, sir !" " He's drunk !" 
 "Don't hit a man when he's down," and other like ex- 
 clamations, came from all sides. 
 
 "Giv^e me fair play, you d d Xorth Carolina 
 
 hounds," cried the Colonel, struggHng violently to get 
 away, " and I'll fight the whole posse of you." 
 
 " One's 'nufi'for yow, ye d d fire-eatin' 'ristocrat ;'* 
 
 said a long, lean, bushy-haired, be-whiskered individual, 
 who was standing near the counter : " ef ye want to 
 fight, ril 'tend to yer case to onst. Let him go, boys," 
 he continued as he stepped toward the Colonel, and 
 parted the crowd that had gathered around him : " give 
 him the shootin'-iron, and let's see ef he'll take a man 
 thet's sober." 
 
 I saw serious trouble was impending, and stepping 
 forward, I said to the last speaker, " My friend, you 
 have no quarrel with this gentleman. He has treated 
 that man only as you would have done." 
 
 "P'raps thet's so; but he's a d d hound of a 
 
THE RAILWAY STATION. 231 
 
 Secesherner thet's draggin' us all to h — 11 ; it'll du the 
 country good to git quit of one on 'em." 
 
 " Whatever his politics are, he's a gentleman, sir, and 
 has done you no harm — let me beg of you to let him 
 alone." 
 
 " Don't beg any thing for me, Mr. K ," growled 
 
 the Colonel through his barred teeth, "I'll fight the 
 d d corn-cracker, and his whole race, at once." 
 
 " Xo you won't, my friend. For the sake of those at 
 home you won't ;" I said, taking him by the arm, and 
 partly leading, partly forcing him, toward the door. 
 
 " And who in h — 11 ar you ?" asked the corn-cracker, 
 planting himself squarely in my way. 
 
 " I'm on the same side of pohtics with you. Union to 
 the core !" I replied. 
 
 "Ye ar ! Union ! Then give us yer fist," said he, 
 
 grasping me by the hand ; " by it does a feller good 
 
 to see a man dressed in yer does thet haint 'fraid to say 
 he's Union, so close to South Car'lina, tu, as this ar ! 
 Come, hev a drink : come boys — all round — let's liquor !" 
 
 " Excuse me now, my dear fellow — some other time 
 I'll be glad to join you." 
 
 " Jest as ye say, but thar's my fist, enyhow." 
 
 He gave me another hearty shake of the hand, and the 
 crowd parting, I made my way with the Colonel out of 
 the room. We were followed by Miles, the landlord, 
 who, when we had reached the front of the entrance- 
 way, said, "I'm right sorry for this row, gentlemen ; the 
 boys will hev a time when they gets together." 
 
232 AMONG THE PINES. 
 
 " Oh, never mind :" said the Colonel, who had recov- 
 covered his coolness ; " but why are all these people 
 here ?" 
 
 " Thar's a barbacue cumin' off to-morrer on the camp- 
 ground, and the house is cram full." 
 
 " Is that so ?" said the Colonel, then' turning to me 
 he added, " Moye has taken the railroad somewhere else ; 
 I must get to a telegraph office at once, to head him off. 
 The nearest one is AVilmington. "With all these rowdies 
 here, it will not do to leave the horses alone — will you 
 stay and keep an eye on them over to-morrow ?" 
 
 " Yes, I will, cheerfully."' 
 
 "• Thar's a mighty hard set, round bar now, Cunnel," 
 said the landlord ; " and the most peaceable get enter 
 scrapes ef they hain't no friends. Hadn't ye better 
 show the gentleman some of your'n, 'fore you go ?" 
 
 " Yes, yes, I didn't think of that. Who is here ?" 
 
 "Wal, thar's Cunnel Taylor, BHl Barnes, Sam Hed- 
 dleson, Jo' Shackelford, Andy Jones, Rob Brown, and 
 lots of others." 
 
 "Where's Andy Jones?" 
 
 " Reckon he's turned in ; I'll see." 
 
 As the landlord opened a door which led from the 
 hall, the Colonel said to me, " Andy is a Union man ; 
 but he'd light to the death for me." 
 
 " Sal !" called out the hotel keeper. 
 
 " Yas, massa, I'se bar," was the answer fi'om a slat- 
 ternly woman, awfully black in the face, who soon thrust 
 her head from the door-way. 
 
THE RAILWAY STATION. 233 
 
 " Is Andy Jones har ?" asked Miles. 
 
 " Yas, massa, he'm turned in up tliar on de table." 
 
 We followed the landlord into the apartment. It was 
 the dining-room of the hotel, and by the dim light which 
 came from a smoky lire on the hearth, I saw it contained 
 about a hundred people, who, wrapped in blankets, bed- 
 quilts and travelUng-shawls, were disposed in all conceiv- 
 able attitudes, and scattered about on the hard floor 
 and tables, sleeping soundly. The room was a long, low 
 apartment — extending across the entire front of the 
 house — and had a wretched, squalid look. The fire, 
 which was tended by the negro-woman — (she had spread 
 a blanket on the floor, and was keeping a drowsy watch 
 over it for the night) — had been recently replenished 
 with green wood, and was throwing out thick volumes 
 of black smoke, which, mixing with the effluvia from the 
 lungs of a hundred sleepers, made up an atmosphere 
 next to impossible to breathe. Not a Avindow was open, 
 and not an aperture for ventilation could be seen ! 
 
 Carefully avoiding the arms and legs of the recum- 
 bent chivalry, we picked our way, guided by the negro- 
 girl, to the corner of the room where the Unionist was 
 sleeping. Shaking him briskly by the shoulder, the 
 Colonel called out : " Andy ! Andy ! wake up !" 
 
 "What — what the d 1 is the matter ?" stammered 
 
 the sleeper, gradually opening his eyes, and raising 
 himself on one elbow, " Lord bless you, Cunnel, is that 
 you ? what in brought you har ?" 
 
234 AMONG THE PINES. 
 
 " Business, Andy. Come, get up, I want to see you, 
 and I can't talk here." 
 
 The North CaroUnian slowly rose, and throwing his 
 blanket over his shoulders, followed us from the room. 
 When we had reached the open air the Colonel intro- 
 duced me to his friend, who expressed surprise, and a 
 great deal of pleasure, at meeting a Northern Union 
 man in the Colonel's company. 
 
 "Look after our horses, now. Miles; Andy and I want 
 to talk," said the planter to the landlord, with about as 
 little ceremony as he would have shown to a negro! 
 
 I thought the white man did not exactly relish the 
 Colonel's manner, but saying, "All right, all right, sir," 
 he took himself away. 
 
 The night was raw and cold, but as all the rooms of 
 the hotel were occupied, either by sleepers or carousers, 
 we had no other alternative than to hold our conference 
 in the open air. Kear the railway-track a light-wood fire 
 was blazing, and, obeying the promptings of the frosty 
 atmosphere, we made our way to it. Lying on the 
 ground around it, divested of all clothing except a pair 
 of linsey trousers and a flannel shirt, and with their 
 naked feet close to its blaze — roasting at one extremity, 
 and freezing at the other — were several blacks, the 
 switch-tenders and woodmen of the Station — fast asleep. 
 How human beings could sleep in such circumstances 
 seemed a marvel, but further observation convinced me 
 that the Southern negro has a natural aptitude for that 
 exercise, and will, indeed, bear more exposure than any 
 
THE EAILWAY STATION. 235 
 
 Other living thing. Nature in giving him such powers 
 of endurance, appears to have specially fitted him for the 
 life of hardi^hip and privation to which he is born. 
 
 The fire-light enabled me to scan the appearance of 
 my new acquaintance. He was rather above the medi- 
 um height, squarely and somewhat stoutly built, and 
 had an easy and self-possessed, though rough and unpol- 
 ished manner. His face, or so much of it as was visible 
 from underneath a thick mass of reddish gray hair, de- 
 noted a firm, decided character ; but there was a manly, 
 open, honest expression about it that gained one's confi- 
 dence in a moment. He wore a slouched hat and a suit 
 of the ordinary " sheep's-grey," cut in the "sack" fash- 
 ion, and hanging loosely about him. He seemed a 
 man who had made his own way in the world, and I 
 subsequently learned that appearances did not belie him. 
 The son of a " poor white" man, with scarcely the first 
 rudiments of book-education, he had, by sterling worth, 
 natural ability, and great force of character, accumu- 
 lated a handsome projDerty, and acquired a leading 
 position in his district. Though on "the wrong side 
 of politics," his personal popularity was so great that 
 for several successive years he had been elected to rep- 
 resent the county in the state legislature. The Colonel, 
 though opposed to him in politics — and party feeling at 
 the South runs so high that political opponents are sel- 
 dom personal friends — had, in the early part of his 
 career, aided him by his endorsements ; and Andy had 
 not forgotten the service. It was easy to see that while 
 
236 AMONG THE PINES. 
 
 two men could not be more unlike in character and ajv 
 pearance than my host and the North Carolinian, they 
 were warm and intimate friends. 
 
 " So, Moye has been raising h — 11 gin'rally, Colonel," 
 said my new acquaintance after a time. " I'm not sur- 
 prised. I never did b'lieve in Yankee nigger-drivers — 
 sumhow it's a2:in natur' for a Northern man to go South- 
 em principles quite so strong as Moye did." 
 
 " Which route do you think he has taken ?" asked 
 the Colonel. 
 
 " Wal, I reckon arter he tuk to the run, he made fur 
 the mountings. He kncw'd you'd head him on the 
 travelled routes; so he's put, I think, fur the Missussippe, 
 where he'll sell the horse and make North." 
 
 " I'll follow him," said the Colonel, " to the ends of 
 the earth. K it costs me five thousand dollars, I'll see 
 him hung." 
 
 " Wal," replied Andy, laughing, " if he's gone North 
 you'll need a extradition treaty to kotch him. South 
 Car'lina, I b'lieve, has set up fur a furrin country." 
 
 " That's true," said the Colonel, also laughing, " she's 
 "furrin" to the Yankees, but not to the old North 
 State." 
 
 " D d if she haint," replied the North Carolinian, 
 
 " and now she's got out on our company, I swear she 
 must keep out. We'd as soon think of goin' to h — 11 in 
 summer time, as of jining partnership with her. Cuu- 
 
 nel, you'r the only decent man in the State — d d if 
 
 you haint — and your politics are a'most bad 'nuif to 
 
THE RAILWAY STATION. 237 
 
 spile a township. It allers seemed sort o' queer to me, 
 tliat a man with such a mighty good heart as your'n, 
 could be so short in the way of brains." 
 
 ."Well, you're complimentary," replied the Colonel, 
 with the utmost good-nature, "but let's drop politics; 
 we never could agree, you know. What shall 1 do 
 about Moye ?" 
 
 " Go to Wilmington and telegraph all creation : wait 
 a day to bar, then il' you don't har, go home, hire a na- 
 tive overseer, and let Moye go to the d 1. Ef it'll 
 
 do you any good I'll go to Wilmington with you, 
 though I did mean to give you Secesherners a little h — 
 har to-morrer." 
 
 " Xo, Andy, I'll go alone. 'Twouldn't be patriotic 
 to take you away from the barbacue. You'd ' spile' 
 if you couldn't let off some gas soon." 
 
 "I do b'lieve I shud. Howsumdever, thar's nary a 
 thing I Avouldn't do for you — you knows that." 
 
 " Yes, I do, and I wish you'd keep an eye on my 
 Yankee friend here, and see he don't get into trouble 
 with any of the boys — there'll be a hard set 'round, I 
 reckon." 
 
 " Wal, I will," said Andy, " but all he's to do is to 
 keep his mouth shet." 
 
 " That seems easy enough," I replied, laughing. 
 
 A desultory conversation followed for about an hour, 
 when the steam-whistle sounded, and the up-train ar- 
 rived. The Colonel got on board and bidding us 
 '" good-night," went on to Wilmington. Andy then 
 
238 AMONG THE PI^'ES. 
 
 proposed ^ve should look up sleeping accommodations. 
 It was useless to seek quarters at the hotel, but an 
 empty car was on the turn-out, and bribing one of the 
 negroes we got access to it, and were soon stretched at 
 full length on two of its hard-bottomed seats. 
 
THE BAKBACUE. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 THE BAllBACUE. 
 
 The camp-ground was about a mile from the station, 
 and pleasantly situated in a grove, near a stream of 
 water. It Avas in frequent use by the camp-meetings 
 of the Methodist denomination — which sect at the South 
 is partial to these rural religious gatherings. Scattered 
 over it, with an effort at regularity, were about forty 
 small but neat log cottages, thatched with the long leaves 
 of the turpentine pine, and chinked with branches of the 
 same tree. Each of these houses was floored with leaves 
 or straw, and large enough to afford sleeping accommoda- 
 tions for about ten persons, provided they spread their 
 bedding on the ground, and lie tolerably close together. 
 Interspersed among the cabins were about a dozen can- 
 vas tents which had been erected for this especial oc- 
 casion. 
 
 Nearly in the centre of the group of huts a rude sort 
 of scaffold, four or five feet high, and surrounded by a 
 rustic raihng, served for the speaker's stand. It would 
 seat about a dozen persons, and was protected by a roof 
 of pine-boughs, interlaced together so as to keep off the 
 sun, without affording protection from the rain. In the 
 rear of this stand were two long tables, made of rough 
 
240 AMONG THE PINES. 
 
 boards, and supported on stout joists, crossed on each 
 other in the form of the letter X. A canopy of green 
 leaves shaded the grounds, and the whole grove, Mhich 
 was perfectly free from underbrush, was carpeted with 
 the soft, brown tassels of the pine. 
 
 Being fatigued with the ride of the previous day, I 
 did not awake till the morning was far advanced, and 
 it was nearly ten o'clock when Andy and I took our way 
 to the camp-ground. Avoiding the usual route, we 
 walked on through the forest. It was mid-winter, and 
 vegetation lay dead all around us, awaiting the time 
 when spring should breathe into it the breath of life, 
 and make it a living thing. There was silence and rest 
 in the deep woods. The birds were away on their win- 
 ter wanderings ; the leaves hung motionless on the tall 
 trees, and nature seemed resting from her ceaseless labors, 
 and listening to the soft music of the little stream which 
 sung a cheerful song as it rambled on over the roots and 
 fallen branches that blocked its way. Soon a distant 
 murmur arose, and we had not proceeded far before as 
 many sounds as were heard at Babel made a strange 
 concert about our ears. The lowing of the ox, the 
 neighing of the horse, and the deep braying of another 
 animal, mingled with a thousand human voices, came 
 through the woods. But above and over all rose the 
 stentorian tones of the stump speaker, 
 
 " As he trod the 'shakj platform, 
 With the sweat upon his brow " 
 
 About a thousand persons were already assembled on 
 
THE BARBACCE. 241 
 
 the ground, and a more motley gathering I never wit- 
 nessed. All sorts of costumes and all classes of people 
 were there ; but the genuine back-woods corn-crackers 
 composed the majority of the assemblage. As might be 
 expected much the larger portion of the audience were 
 men, still I saw some women and not a few children ; 
 many of the country people having taken advantage of 
 the occasion to give their families a holiday. Some oc- 
 cupied benches in front of the stand, though a larger 
 number were seated around in groups, within hearing of 
 the speaker, but paying very little attention to what he 
 was saying. A few were whitthng — a few pitching 
 quoits, or playing leap-frog, and quite a number were 
 having a quiet game of whist, euchre or " seven-up." 
 
 The speaker was a well-dressed, gentlemanly-looking 
 man and a tolerably good orator. He seemed accus- 
 tomed to addressing a jury, for he displayed all the adroit- 
 ness hi handling his subject, and in appeahng to the 
 2)rejudices of his hearers, that we see in successful spe- 
 cial pleaders. But he overshot his mark. To nine out of 
 ten of his audience, his words and similes, though cor- 
 rect, and sometimes beautiful, v>'ere as unintelligible as 
 the dead languages. He advocated immediate, uncondi- 
 tional secession ; and I thought from the applause which 
 met his remarks, whenever he seemed to make himself 
 understood, that the large majority of those present 
 were of the same way of thinking. 
 
 He was succeeded by a heavy-browed, middle-aged 
 man, sUghtly bent, and with hair a little turned to gray, 
 11 
 
AMONG THE PINES. 
 
 but still hale, athletic, and in the prime and vigor of 
 manhood. His pantaloons and waistcoat were of the com- 
 mon homespun, and he used, now and then, a word of 
 the country dialect, but as a stump-speaker he was in- 
 finitely superior to the more polished orator who had 
 preceded him. 
 
 He, too, advocated secession, as a right and a duty — 
 separation, now and forever, from the dirt-eating, money- 
 loving Yankees, who, he was ashamed to say, had the 
 same ancestry, and worshipped the same God, as himself. 
 He took the bold ground that slavery is a curse to both 
 the black and the white, but that it was forced upon 
 this generation before its birth, by these same greedy, 
 grasping Yankees, who would sell not only the bones 
 and sinews of their fellow men, but — worse than that — 
 their own souls, for gold. It was forced upon them 
 without their consent, and now that it had become inter- 
 woven with all their social life, and was a necessity of 
 theu- very existence, the hypocritical Yankees would 
 take it from them, because, forsooth, it is a sin and a 
 wrong — as if they had to bear its responsibility, or the 
 South could not settle its own affairs with its Maker ! 
 
 "Slavery is now," he continued, "indispensable to us. 
 Without it, cotton, rice, and sugar will cease to grow, 
 and the South Avill starve. What if it works abuses ? 
 What if the black, at times, is overburdened, and his 
 wife and daughters debauched? Man is not perfect 
 anywhere— there are wrongs in every society. It is for 
 each one to give his account, in such matters, to his God. 
 
THE BARBACUE. 24:3 
 
 But in tills are we worse than they? Are there not 
 abuses in society at the North? Are not their laborers 
 overworked ? While sin here hides itself under cover of. 
 the night, does it not there stalk abroad at noon-day ? 
 Kthe wives and dauQ:hters of blacks are debauched here, 
 are not the wives and daughters of whites debauched 
 there ? and will not a Yankee barter away the chastity 
 of his own mother for a dirty dollar ? Who fill our 
 brothels? Yankee women! Who load our peniten- 
 tiaries, crowd our whipphig-posts, debauch our slaves, 
 and cheat and defraud us all? Yankee men! And I 
 say unto you, fellow-citizens," and here the speaker's 
 form seemed to dilate with the wild enthusiasm which 
 possessed him, ' come out from among them ; be ye 
 separate, and touch not the unclean thing,' and thus 
 saith the Lord God of Hosts, who will guide you, and 
 lead you, if need be, to battle and to victory!" 
 
 A perfect storm of applause followed. The assem- 
 blage rose, and one long, wild shout rent the old woods, 
 and made the tall trees tremble. It was some minutes 
 before the uproar subsided ; when it did, a voice near 
 the speaker's stand called out, " Andy Jones !" The call 
 was at once echoed by another voice, and soon a general 
 shout for "Andy!" "Union Andy!" "Bully Andy!" went 
 up from the same crowd which a moment before had so 
 wildly applauded the secession speaker. 
 
 Andy rose from where he was seated beside me, and 
 quietly ascended the steps of the platform. Removing 
 his hat, and passing to his mouth a huge quid of tobacco 
 
2J:4: AMONG THE PINES. 
 
 from a tin box in his pantaloons-pocket, he made several 
 rapid strides up and down the speaker's stand, and then 
 turned squarely to the audience. 
 
 The reader has noticed a tiger pacing up and down in 
 his cage, with his eyes riveted on the human faces before 
 him. He has observed how he will single out some indi- 
 vidual, and finally stoppuig short in his rounds, turn on 
 him with a look of such intense ferocity as makes a man's 
 blood stand still, and his very breath come thick and 
 hard, as he momentarily expects the beast will tear away 
 the bars of the cage and leap forth on the obnoxious per- 
 son. Now, Andy's fine, open, manly face had nothing 
 of the tiger in it, but, for a moment, T could not divest 
 myself of the impression, as he halted in his walk up 
 and down the stage, and turned full and square on the 
 previous speaker — who had taken a seat among the audi- 
 ence near me — that he was about to spring upon him. 
 Riveting his eye on the man's face, he at last slowly said : 
 
 "A man stands har and quotes Scriptur agin his 
 feller man, and forgets that 'God made of one blood all 
 nations that dwell on the face of the 'arth.' A man 
 stands har and calls his brother a thief, and his mother 
 a harlot, and axes us to go his doctrin's ! I don't 
 mean his brother in the Scriptur sense, nor his mother 
 in a fig'rative sense, but I mean the brother of his own 
 blood, and the mother that bore him; for he, gentlemen 
 (and he pointed his finger directly at the recent speaker, 
 while his words came slow and heavy with intense scorn), 
 HE is a Yankee ! And now, T say, gentlemen, d — n sech 
 
THE BAKBACIJE. 246 
 
 doctrin's ; d n sech principles, and d n the man 
 
 that's got a soul so black as to utter 'em !'' 
 
 A breathless silence fell on the assemblage, while the 
 person alluded to sprang to his feet, his face on fire, and 
 his voice thick and broken with intense rage, as he 
 
 yelled out : " Andy Jones, by , you shall answer for 
 
 this!" 
 
 "Sartin," said Andy, coolly inserting his thumbs in 
 the armholes of his waistcoat ; " eny whar you likes — 
 har — now — ef 'greeable to you." 
 
 " I've no weapon here, sir, but I'll give you a chance 
 mighty sudden," was the fierce reply. 
 
 " Suit yourself," said Andy, with perfect imperturba- 
 bility; "but as you haint jest ready, s'pose you set 
 down, and har me tell 'bout your relations : they're a 
 right decent set — them as I knows — and I'll swar 
 they're 'shamed of you." 
 
 A buzz went through the crowd, and a dozen voices 
 called out : " Be civil, Andy"—" Let him blow"—" Shut 
 ^ip" — "Go in, Jones" — with other hke elegant excla- 
 mations. 
 
 A few of his friends took the aggrieved gentleman 
 aside, and, soon quieting him, restored order. 
 
 " Wal, gentlemen," resumed Andy, " all on you know 
 whar I was raised — over thar in South Car'lina. I'm 
 sorry to say it, but it's true. And you all know my 
 father Avas a pore man, who couldn't give his boys no 
 chance — and ef he could, thar warn't no schules in the 
 district — so we couldn't hev got no book-larning ef we'd 
 
246 AMONG THE PIXES. 
 
 been a minded to. Wal, the next plantation to whar 
 
 we lived was old Gunnel J 's, the father of this cun- 
 
 nel. He was a d d old nullifier, jest like his son — 
 
 but not half so decent a man. Wal, on his plantation 
 was an old nigger called Uncle Pomp, who'd sumhow 
 lamed to read. He was a mighty good nigger, and he'd 
 hev been in heaven long afore now ef the Lord hadn't a 
 had sum good use for him down har — but he'll be thar 
 
 yet a d d sight sooner than sum on us white folks — 
 
 that's sartin. Wal, as I was saying, Pomp could read, 
 and when I was 'bout sixteen^ and had never seen the 
 inside of a book, the old darky said to me one day — he 
 was old then, and that was thirty years ago — wal, he 
 said to me, 'Andy, chile, ye orter larn to read, 'twill 
 be ob use to ye when you'se grow'd up, and it moight 
 make you a good and 'spected man — now, come to ole 
 Pomp's cabin, and he'll larn you, Andy, chile.' Wal, I 
 reckon I went. He'd nothin' but a Bible and Watts' 
 Hymns ; but we used to stay thar all the long winter 
 evenin's, and by the light o' the fire — we war both so 
 durned pore we couldn't raise a candle at ween us — wal, 
 by the light o' the fire he larned me, and fore long I 
 could spell right smart. 
 
 "Now, jest think on that, gentlemen. I, a white 
 boy, and, 'cordin' to the Declaration of Independence, 
 with jest as good blood in me as the old Gunnel had in 
 him, bein' larned to read by an old slave, and that old 
 slave a'most worked to death, and takin' his nights, 
 when he orter hev been a restin' his old bones, to larn 
 
THE BARBACUE. 247 
 
 me ! I'm d d if he don't get to heaven for that one 
 
 thing, if for nothin' else. 
 
 " Wal, you all know the rest — how, when I'd grow'd 
 up, I settled har, in the old North State, and how the 
 young Cunnel backed my paper, and set me a runnin' at 
 turpentining. P'raps you don't think this has much to 
 do with the Yankees, but it has a durned sight, as ye'll 
 sec rather sudden. Wal, arter a while, when I'd got a 
 little forehanded, I begun shipping my truck to York 
 and Bostin' ; and at last my Yankee factor, he come out 
 har, inter the back woods, to see me, and says he, 
 ' Jones, come North and take a look at us.' I'd sort o' 
 took to him. I'd lots o' deaUn's with him afore ever 
 I seed him, and I allers found him straight as a shingle. 
 Wal, I went North, and he took me round, and showed 
 me how the Yankees does things. Afore I know'd him, 
 I allers thought — as -p'raps most on you do — that the 
 Yankees war a sort o' cross atween the devil and a Jew; 
 but how do you s'pose I found 'em ? I found that they 
 sent the pore man's children to schule^ free — and that 
 
 the schule-houses war a d d sight thicker than the 
 
 bugs m Miles Privett's beds ! and that's sayin' a heap, 
 for ef eny on you kin sleep in his house, excep' he takes 
 
 to the soft side of the floor, I'm d d. Yas, the pore 
 
 man's children are larned thar, free ! — all on 'em — and 
 they've jest so good a chance as the sons of the rich 
 man ! Now, arter that, do you think that I — as got all 
 my schulein, from an old slave, by the light of a bor- 
 rored pine-knot — der you think that J kin say any thing 
 
248 AMOXG THE PIXES. 
 
 agin the Yankees? P'r'aps they do steal — though I 
 doant know it — p'r'aps they do debauch thar wives and 
 darters, and sell thar niotliers' vartue for dollars — but, 
 
 ef they do, I'm d d if they doant send pore children 
 
 to schule — and that's more'n we do — and let me tell you, 
 until we do thet, we must expec' they'll be cuter and 
 smarter nor we are. 
 
 " This gentleman, too, my friends, who's been a givin' 
 sech a hard settin' down ter his own relation, arter 
 they've broughten him up, and given liim sech a schulein 
 for nuthin', he says the Yankees want to interfere with 
 our niggers. N'ow, thet haint so, and they couldn't ef 
 they would, 'case it's agin the Constertution. And 
 they stand on the Constertution a durned sight solider 
 nor we do. Didn't thar big gun — Daniel Webster — 
 didn't he make mince-meat of South Car Una Hayne on 
 thet ar' subjec' ? But I tell you they haint a mind ter 
 meddle with the niggers ; they're a goin' to let us go ter 
 h — 1 our own way, and we're goin' thar mighty fast, or 
 I haint read the last census." 
 
 "P'r'aps you haint heerd on the ab'lish'ners, Andy?" 
 cried a voice from among the audience. 
 
 " Wal, I reckon I hev," responded the orator. "I've 
 heerd on 'em, and seed 'em, too. When I was North I 
 went to one on thar conventions, and I'll tell you how 
 they look. They've all long, wimmin's har, and thin, 
 shet lips, with big, bawlin'- mouths, and long, lean, 
 tommerhawk faces, as white as vargin dip — and they all 
 talk through the nose (giving a specimen), and they 
 
THE BARBACUE. 
 
 249 
 
 all look for all the world jest like the South Car'lina fire- 
 eaters — aiitl they are as near like 'em as two peas, excep' 
 they don't swar quite so bad, but they make up for 
 thet in prayin' — and prayin' too much, I reckon, when a 
 
 man's a d d hippercrit, is 'bout as bad as swearin'. 
 
 But, I tell you, the decent folks up North haint ablish- 
 eners. They look on \m jest as we do on mad dogs, 
 the itch, or the nigger traders. 
 
 " Now, 'bout this secession bis'ness — though 'taint no 
 use to talk on that subjec', 'case this state never'll se- 
 cede—South Car'lina has done it, and I'm raather glad 
 she has, for though I was born thar — and say it as 
 hadn't ort«r say it — she orter hev gone to h — 1 long ago, 
 and now she's got thar, why — let her stay! But, 'bout 
 thet bis'ness, I'll tell you a story. 
 
 " I know'd an old gentleman once by the name of 
 Uncle Sam, and he'd a heap of sons. They war all likely 
 ))oys — but strange ter tell, though they'd all the same 
 mother, and she was a white woman, 'bout half on 'em 
 war colored — not black, but sorter half-and-half Now, 
 the white sons war well-behaved, industrious, hard- 
 workin' boys, who got 'long well, edicated thar chil- 
 dren, and allers treated the old man decently; but the 
 mulatter fellers war a pesky set — though some on 'em 
 war better nor others. They wouldn't work, but set up 
 for airystocracy — rode in kerriges, kept fast horses, bet 
 high, and chawed tobaccer like the devil. Wal, the re- 
 sult was, thei/ got out at the elbows, and 'case they 
 warn't gettin' 'long quite so fast as the white 'uns — 
 11* 
 
260 AilONG THE PINES. 
 
 though that war all thar own fault — tliey got jealous, 
 and one on 'em who was blacker nor all the rest — a 
 little feller, but terrible big on braggin' — he packed up 
 his truck one night, and left the old man's house, and 
 swore he'd never come back. He tried to make the 
 other mulatters go with him, but they put thar fingers 
 to tbar nose, and says they, 'Xo you doant.' I was in 
 fovor of lettin' on him stay out m the cold, but the old 
 man was a bernevolent old critter, and so lie says: 'Xow, 
 Bonny, you jest come back and behave yourself, and I'll 
 forgive you all your old pranks, and treat you jest as I 
 allers used ter ; but, ef you wont, why — I'll make you, 
 thet's all!' 
 
 "Now, gentlemen, thet quarrelsome, oneasy,ongrateful, 
 tobaccer-chawin', hoss-racin', high-bettin', big-braggin', 
 nigger-stealm', wimmin-whippin', yaller son of the devil, 
 is South Car'lina, and ef she doant come back and be- 
 have herself in futur', I'm d d ef she wont be ploughed 
 
 with fire, and sowed with salt, and Andy Jones will help 
 ter do it." 
 
 The speaker was frequently interrupted in the course 
 of his remarks by uproarious applause — but as he closed 
 and descended from the platform, the crowd sent up 
 cheer after cheer, and a dozen strong men, making a seat 
 of their arms, lifted him from the ground and bore him otf 
 to the head of the table, where dinner was in waiting. 
 
 The whole of the large assemblage then fell to eating. 
 The dinner was made up of the barbacued beef and tlie 
 usual mixture of viands found on' a planter's table, with 
 
THE BARBACUE. 251 
 
 water from tlio little brook luirJ by, and a plentiful 
 supply of corn-whiskey. (The latter beverage had, I 
 thought, been subjected to tlie rite of ininiersiou, for it 
 tasted wonderfully of water.) 
 
 Songs and speeches were intermingled with the masti- 
 cating exercises, and the whole company was soon in 
 the best of humor. 
 
 During the meal I was introduced by Andy to a large 
 number of the " natives," he taking special pains to tell 
 eacli one that I was a Yankee, and a Cnion man, but al- 
 ways adding, as if to conciliate all parties, that I also 
 was a guest and a friend of his very particular friend, 
 " thet d d secesiiener. Gunnel J ." 
 
 Before we left the table, the secession orator happen- 
 ing near where we were seated, Andy rose from his seat, 
 and, extending his hand to him, said : " Tom, you think 
 I 'suited you ; p'r'aps I did, but you 'suited my Yankee 
 friend liar, and your own relation, and I bed to take it 
 up, jest for the looks o' the thing. Come, there's my 
 hand ; I'll fight you ef you want ter, or we'll say no more 
 'bout it — jest as you hke." 
 
 " Say no more about it, Andy," said the gentleman, 
 very cordially; "let's drink and be friends." 
 
 They drank a glass of whiskey together, and then 
 leaving the table, proceeded to where the ox had been 
 barbacued, to show me how cooking on a large scale is 
 done at the South. 
 
 In a pit about eight feet deep, twenty feet long, and 
 ten feet wude, laid up on the sides with stones, a fire of 
 
252 AMONG THE PINKP. 
 
 hickory had been made, over which, after the wood had 
 burned down to coals, a whole ox, divested of its hide 
 and entrails, had been suspended on an enormous spit. 
 Being turned often in the process of cooking, the beet 
 had finally been "done brown." It was then cut up 
 and served on the table, and I must say, for the credit 
 of Southern cookery, that it made as delicious eating as 
 any meat I ever tasted. 
 
 I had then been away from my charge — the Colonel's 
 horses — as long as seemed to be prudent. I said as 
 much to Andy, when he proposed to return with me, 
 and, turning good-humoredly to his reconciled friend, he 
 said : " Xow, Tom, no secession talk while I'm ofiV 
 
 "Nary a Avord," said "Tom," and we left. 
 
 The horses had been well fed by the negro whom I 
 had left in charge of them, but had not been groomed. 
 Seeing that, Andy stripped off his coat, and setting the 
 black at work on one, with a handful of straw and pine 
 leaves, commenced operations on the other, whose hair 
 was soon as smooth and glossy as if it had been rubbed 
 by an English groom. 
 
 The remainder of the day passed without incident 
 till eleven at night, when the Colonel returned from 
 "Wilmington. 
 
THE RETURN. ' 253 
 
 CHxVPTER XV. 
 
 THE RETURX. 
 
 MoYE had not been seen or heard of, and the Colonel's 
 trip was fruitless. While at Wilmington he sent tele- 
 grams, directing the overseer's arrest, to the various 
 large cities of the South, and then decided to return 
 home, make arrangements preliminary to a protracted 
 absence from the plantation, and proceed at once to 
 Charleston, where he would await replies to his dis- 
 patches. Andy agreed with him in the opinion that 
 Moye, in his weak state of health, would not take an 
 overland route to the free states, but would endeavor 
 to reach some town on the Mississippi, where he might 
 dispose of the horse, and secure a passage up the river. 
 
 As no time was to be lost, we decided to return to 
 the plantation on the following morning. Accordingly, 
 with the first streak of day we bade " good-bye" to our 
 Union friend, and started homeward. 
 
 Xo incident worthy of mention occurred on the way, 
 till about ten o'clock, when we arrived at the house of 
 the Yankee schoolmistress, where we had been so hos- 
 pitably entertained two days before. The lady received 
 us with great cordiality, forced upon us a lunch to serve 
 our hunger on the road, and when we parted, enjoined 
 on me to leave the South at the earliest possible mo- 
 
254 ' AMONG THE PINES. 
 
 ment. She was satisfied it would not for a much longer 
 time be safe quarters for a man professing Union senti- 
 ments. Xotwithstanding the strong manifestations of 
 loyalty I had observed among the people, I was con- 
 vinced the advice of my pretty " countrywoman" was 
 judicious, and I determined to be governed by it. 
 
 Our horses, unaccustomed to lengthy journeys, had 
 not entirely recovered from the fatigues of their previ- 
 ous travel, and^we did not reach our destination till an 
 hour after dark. We were most cordially welcomed by 
 
 Madam P , who soon set before us a hot supper, 
 
 which, as we were jaded by the long ride, and had fast- 
 ed for twelve hours, on bacon-sandwiches and cold hoe- 
 cake, was the one thing needful to us. 
 
 While seated at the table the Colonel asked : 
 "Has every thing gone right, Alice, since we left 
 home ?" 
 
 " Every thing," replied the lady, " except" — and she 
 hesitated, as if she dreaded the effect of the news ; " ex- 
 cept that Julie and her child have gone." 
 
 " Gone I" exclaimed my host ; "gone where?" 
 " I don't know. We have searched everywhere, but 
 have found no clue to them. The morning you left 
 Sam set Jule at Avork among the pines ; she tried hard, 
 but could not do a full task, and at night was taken to 
 the cabin to be whipped. I heard of it, and forbade it. 
 It did not seem to me that she ought to be punished for 
 not doing what she had not strength to do. When re- 
 leased from the cabin, she came and thanked me for 
 
THE RETURN. ' 255 
 
 having interfered for her, and talked with me awhile. 
 She cried and took on fearfully about Sam, and was 
 afraid you would punish her when you returned. I 
 promised you would not, and she left me seeming more 
 cheerful. I supposed she would go directly home after 
 getting her child from the nurse's quarters ; but it ap- 
 pears she went to Pompey's, where she staid till after 
 ten o'clock. Neither she nor the child have been seen 
 since." 
 
 " Did you get no trace of her in the morning ?" 
 
 " Yes, but soon lost it. When she did not appear at 
 work, Sam went to her cabin to learn the cause, and 
 found the door open, and her bed undisturbed. She had 
 not slept there. Knowing that Sandy had returned, I 
 sent for him, and, with Jim and his dog, he commenced 
 a search. The dog tracked her directly from Pompey'a 
 cabin to the bank of the run near the lower still. There 
 all trace of her disappeared. We dragged the stream, 
 but discovered nothing. Jim and Sandy then scoured 
 the woods for miles in all directions, but the hound could 
 not recover the trail. I hope otherwise, but I fear some 
 evil has befallen her." 
 
 " Oh, no ! there's no fear of that," said the Colonel : 
 " she is smart : she waded up the run fir enough toJbaf- 
 fle the dog, and then made for the swamp. That is 
 why you lost her tracks at the stream. Rely upon it, 
 I am right : but she shall not escape me." 
 
 We shortly afterward adjourned to the library. Af- 
 ter being seated there a while the Colonel, rising qidckly. 
 
256 AMONG THE riXPS. 
 
 as if a sudden thought had struck him, sent for the old 
 preacher. 
 
 The old negro soon appeared, hat in hand, and taking 
 a stand near the door, made a respectful bow to each 
 one of us. 
 
 " Take a chair, Porapey," said Madam P , kindly. 
 
 The black meekly seated himself, when the Colonel 
 asked : " Well, Pomp, what do you know about Jule's 
 going off?" . 
 
 " Xufiin', massa — I shures you, nuffin'. De pore chile 
 say nuffin to ole Pomp 'bout dat." 
 
 " What did she say ?" 
 
 " Wal, you see, massa, de night arter you gwo 'way, 
 and arter she'd worked hard in de brush all de day, and 
 been a strung up in de ole cabin fur to be Avhipped, she 
 come ter me wid har baby in har arms, all a-faint and 
 a-tired, and har pore heart clean broke, and she say dat 
 she'm jess ready ter drop down and die. Den I tries ter 
 comfut har, massa ; I takes har up from de floor, and I 
 say ter har dat de good Lord He pity har — dat He woant 
 bruise de broken reed, and woant put no more on her 
 dan she kin Var — dat He'd touch your heart, and I 
 toled har you'se a good, .kine heart at de bottom, massa 
 — and I knows it, 'case I toted you 'fore you could gwo, 
 and when you's a bery little chile, not no great sight 
 bigger'n har'n, you'd put your little arms round ole 
 Pomp's neck, and say dat when you war grow'd up 
 you'd be bery kine ter de pore brack folks, and not leff 
 'em be 'bused like dey war in dem days." 
 
THE RETURN. 257 
 
 ** Never mind what you said," interrupted the Colonel, 
 a little impatiently, but showing no displeasm-e; "what 
 did she say V" 
 
 " Wal, massa, she tuk on bery hard 'bout Sam, and 
 axed me ef I raaily reckoned de Lord had forgib'n him, 
 and took'n him ter Heself, and gibin' him one o' dem 
 hous'n up dar, in de sky. I toled her dat I knoio'd it ; 
 but she say it didn't 'pear so ter har, 'case Sam had a 
 been wid har out dar in de woods, all fru de day ; dat 
 she'd a seed him, massa, and dough he handn't a said 
 nuffin', he'd lukd at har wid sech a sorry, grebed luk, 
 dat it gwo clean fru har heart, till she'd no strength left", 
 and fall down on de ground a'most dead. Den she say 
 big Sam come 'long and fine har dar, and struck har 
 great, heaby blows w4d de big whip !" 
 
 "The brute!" exclaimed the Colonel, rising from his 
 chair, and pacing rapidly up and down the room. 
 
 " But p'raps he warn't so much ter blame, massa," 
 continued the old negro, in a deprecatory tone ; " may- 
 be he 'spose she war shirkin' de work. Wal, den she say 
 she know'd nuffin' more, till byme-by, when she come 
 to, and fine big Sam dar, and he struck har agin, and 
 make har gwo ter de work ; and she did gwo, but she 
 feel like as ef she'd die.' I toled har de good ma'am 
 wudn t left" big Sam 'buse har no more 'fore you cum 
 hum, and dat you'd hab 'passion on har, and not left* har 
 gwo out in de woods, but put har 'mong de nusses, like 
 as afore. 
 
 " Den she say it 'twarn't de w^ork dat trubble har — 
 
258 A^rONG THE PINES. 
 
 dat she orter work, and orter be 'bused, 'case she'd been 
 bad, bery bad. All she axed war dat Sam would forgib 
 bar, and cum to har in de oder worle, and tell bar so. 
 Den she cried, and tuk on awful; but de good Lord, 
 massa, dat am so bery kine ter de bery wuss sinners. He 
 put de words inter my mouf, and I tink dey gib har 
 comfut, fur she say dat it sort o' 'peared to har den dat 
 Sam would forgib har, and take har inter his house up 
 dar, and she warn't afeard ter die no more. 
 
 "Den she takes up de chile and gwo 'way, 'pearin' 
 sort o' happy, and more cheerful like dan I'd a seed har 
 eber sense pore Sam war shot." 
 
 My host was sensibly affected by the old man's simple 
 tale, but continued pacing up and down the room, and 
 said nothing. 
 
 " It's plain to me, Colonel," I remarked, as Pompey 
 concluded, " she has drowned herself and the child — the 
 dog lost the scent at the creek." 
 
 "Oh, no!" he replied; "I think not. I never heard 
 of a negro committing suicide — they've not the courage 
 to do it." 
 
 " I fear she has^ David," said the lady. " The thought 
 of going to Sam has led her to it ; yet, we dragged the 
 run, and found nothing. What do you think about it, 
 Pompey ?" 
 
 " I dunno, ma'am, but I'se afeard of dat ; and now 
 dat I tinks ob it, I'se afeard 'dat what I tole har put har 
 up ter it," replied the old preacher, bursting into tears. 
 "She 'peared so happy like, when I say she'd be 'long 
 
THE RETURN. 250 
 
 wid Sam in de oder worle, dat I'se afeard she's a gone 
 and done it wid bar own hands. I tole har, too, dat de 
 Lord would oberlook good many tings dat pore siimers 
 do wlien dey can't lielp 'emselfs — and it make liar do it ! 
 Oh ! it make har do it !" and the old black buried his face 
 in his hands, and wept bitterly. 
 
 " Don't feel so, Pomp," said his master, very kindly. 
 "You did the best you could; no one blames you." 
 
 *'I knows you doant, massa — I knows you doant, and 
 you'se bery good nottur — but oh ! massa, de Lord!" and 
 his body swayed to and fro with the great grief; "I 
 fears de Lord do, massa, for I'se sent har ter Him Avid 
 har own blood, and de blood of dat pore innercent chile, 
 on har hands. Oh, I fears de Lord neber'll forgib me — 
 neber'll forgib me for dat!''* 
 
 " He will, my good Pomp — He will!" said the Colonel, 
 laying his hand tenderly on the old man's shoulder. 
 " The Lord will forgive you, for the sake of the Chris- 
 tian example you've set your master, if for nothing else;" 
 and here the proud, strong man's feelings overpowering 
 him, his tears fell in great drops on the breast of the 
 old slave, as they had fallen there in his childhood. 
 
 Such scenes are not for the eye of a stranger, and 
 turning away, I left the room. 
 
260 AMONG THE PINES. 
 
 CHAPTER XYI. 
 
 'ONE IIORE UNFORTUNATE. 
 
 The family met at the breakfast-table at the usual 
 hour on the following morning ; but I noticed that Jim 
 was not in his accustomed place behind the Colonel's 
 chair. That gentleman exliibited his usual good spirits, 
 but Madam P — ^- looked sad and anxious, and J had 
 not forgotten the scene of the previous evening. 
 
 While we were seated at the meal, the negro Junius 
 hastily entered the room, and in an excited manner ex- 
 claimed : 
 
 " Oh, massa, massa, you muss cum ter de cabin — Jim 
 hab draw'd his knife, and he swar he'll kill de fuss 'un 
 dat touch him !" 
 
 "He does, does he!" said his master, springing from 
 his seat, and abruptly leaving the apartment. 
 
 Remembering the fierce burst of passion I had seen in 
 the negro, and fearing there was danger a-foot, I rose to 
 follow, saying, as I did so : 
 
 " Madam, cannot you prevent this ?" 
 
 " I cannot, sir ; I have already done all I can. Go and 
 try to pacify the Colonel — Jim will die before he'll be 
 whipped." 
 
261 
 
 Jim was standing at the farther end of the old cabin, 
 with his back to the wall, and the large spring knife in 
 his hand. Some half-dozen negroes were in the centre 
 of the room, apparently cowed by his fierce and desper- 
 ate looks, and his master was within a few feet of him. 
 
 " I tell you. Gunnel," cried the negro, as I entered, 
 "you touch me at your peril!" 
 
 "You d d nigger, do you dare to speak so to me?" 
 
 said his master, taking a step toward him. 
 
 The knife rose in the air, and the black, in a cool, 
 sneering tone, replied: " Say your prayers 'fore you come 
 nigher, for, so help me God, you'm a dead man !" 
 
 I laid my hand on the Golonel's arm, to draw him 
 oack, saying, as I did so: "There's danger in him! I 
 k}ioio it. Let him go, and he shall ask your pardon." 
 
 " I shan't ax his pardon," cried the black ; " leff him 
 an' me be, sir ; we'll fix dis ourselfs." 
 
 " Don't interfere, Mr. K ," said my host, with per- 
 fect coolness, but with a face pallid with rage. " Let me 
 govern my own plantation." 
 
 "As you say, sir," I replied, stepping back a few 
 paces ; " but I warn you — there is danger in him !" 
 
 Taking no notice of my remark, the Golonel turning 
 to the trembling negroes, said : " One of you go to the 
 house and bring my pistols." 
 
 "You kin shoot me, ef you likes," said Jim, with a 
 fierce, grim smile ; " but I'll take you ter h — 1 wid me, 
 sJiore. You knows we wont stand a blow !" 
 
 The Golonel, at the allusion to their relationship, 
 
262 AMONG THE TINES. 
 
 started as if shot, and turning furiously on the negro, 
 yelled out : " I'll shoot you for that, you d d nigger, 
 
 by ." 
 
 " It 'pears ter me, Cunncl, ye've hed 'bout nuif shoot- 
 in' round har, lately ; better stop thet sort o' bis'ness ; 
 it moight give ye a sore throat," said the long, lean, 
 loose-jointed stump-speaker of the previous Sunday, as 
 he entered the cabin and strode directly up to my 
 host. 
 
 " What brought you here, you d d insolent hound?" 
 
 cried the Colonel, turning fiercely on the new-comer. 
 
 " Wal, I cum ter du ye a naaboorly turn — I've kotched 
 two on yer niggers down ter my still, and I want ye 
 ter take 'em 'way," returned the corn-cracker, with the 
 utmost coolness. 
 
 " Two of my niggers !" exclaimed the Colonel, per- 
 ceptibly moderating his tone — " which ones ?" 
 
 " A yaller gal, and a chile." 
 
 " I thank you, Barnes ; excuse my hard words — I was 
 excited." 
 
 "All right, Cunnel; say no more 'bout thet. Will 
 ye send fur 'em? I'd hev fotched 'em 'long, but my 
 waggin's off jest now." 
 
 "Yes, ril send at once. Have you got them safe?" 
 
 " Safe ? I reckon so ! Kotched 'em last night, arter 
 dark, and they've kept right still ever sense, I 'sure ye — 
 but th' gal holds on ter th' young 'un ter kill — we cudn't 
 get it 'way no how." 
 
 " How did you catch them?" 
 
263 
 
 " They got 'gainst my turpentime raft — the curren' 
 driv 'em down, I s'pose." 
 
 '' Wliat ! are they dead ?" 
 
 "Dead? deader'n drownded rats !" replied the native, 
 
 "My God! drowned herself and her child!" exclaim- 
 ed the Colonel, witli deep emotion. 
 
 " It is terrible, my friend. Come, let us go to them, 
 at once," I said, laying my hand on his arm, and draw- 
 ing him unresistingly away 
 
 A pair of mules was speedily harnessed to a large 
 turpentine ^vagon, and the horses we had ridden the day 
 before were soon at the door. When the Colonel, 
 who had been closeted for a few minutes with Madam 
 
 P , came out of the house, we mounted, and rode off 
 
 with the "corn-cracker." 
 
 The native's farm was located on the stream which 
 watered my friend's plantation, and was about ten miles 
 distant. Taking a by-road which led to it through the 
 woods, we rode rapidly on in advance of the wagon. 
 
 " Sort o' likely gal, thet, warn't she ?" remarked the 
 turpentine-maker, after a while. 
 
 "Yes, she was," rephed the Colonel, in a half-ab- 
 stracted manner ; " veri/ likely." 
 
 " Kill harself 'case har man war shot by thet han'som 
 overseer uv your'n?" 
 
 " Xot altogether for that, I reckon," repHed ray host ; 
 " I fear the main reason was her being put at field-work, 
 and abused by the driver." 
 
 " Thet comes uv not lookin' arter things yerself, Cun- 
 
204 AMONG THE PINES. 
 
 ncl. I tend ter my niggers parsonally, and they keer a 
 durned sight more fur this world then fur kingdom-cum. 
 Ye cudn't hire 'em ter kill 'emselves fur no price." 
 
 " Well," repUed the Colonel, in a low tone, " I did 
 look after her. I put her at full field-work, myself!" 
 
 "By 1" cried the native, reining his horse to a 
 
 dead stop, and speaking in an excited manner : " I doant 
 
 b'heve it — 'taint 'tall Uke ye — yer a d d seceshener; 
 
 thet comes uv yer bringin'-up — but ye've a soul bigger'n 
 a meetin'-house, and ye cudn't hev put thet sUm, weak- 
 ly gal inter th' woods, no how !" 
 
 The Colonel and I instinctively halted our horses, as 
 the " corn-cracker" stopped his, and were then standing 
 abreast of huu in tlie road. 
 
 "It's true, Barnes," said my host, in a voice that 
 showed deep dejection ; " I did do it !" 
 
 "May God Almighty furgive ye, Cunnel," said the 
 native, starting his horse forward; "fur th' blood uv 
 thet pore gal, and thet innercent young 'un ar on ye !" 
 
 " I know it — I feel it," rephed the planter, in a still 
 lower tone ; " but no more now, Barnes. We've each 
 to answer for himself" 
 
 "I knows it, Cunnel, and 'taint for me ter judge ye; 
 but I wudn't hev dun it fur all yer niggers, by ." 
 
 The Colonel made no reply, and we rode on the rest 
 of the way in silence. 
 
 The corn-cracker's house — a low, unpainted wooden 
 buildmg — stood near the httle stream, and in the centre 
 of a cleared plot of some ten acres. This plot was sur- 
 
265 
 
 rounded l>v a post-and-rail fence, and in its front portion 
 was a iTJirdcn, w hicli i^rew a sufficient supply of veg«.'- 
 tables to serve a family of twenty persons. In the rear,^ 
 and at the sides of the dwelling, were about seven acres, 
 devoted mainly to corn and potatoes. In one corner of 
 the lot were three tidy-looking negro-houses, and close 
 beside them I noticed a low shed, near which a large 
 quantity of the stalks of the tall, white corn, common 
 to that section, was stacked in the New England fashion. 
 Browsing on the corn-stalks were three sleek, well-kept 
 milch cows, and a goat. 
 
 About four hundred yards from the itirmer's house, 
 and on the bank of the little run, which there was 
 quite wide and deep, stood a turpentine distillery ; and 
 around it were scattered a large number of rosin and 
 turpentine barrels, some filled and some empty. A short 
 distance higher up, and far enough from the " still" to be 
 safe in the event of a fire, was a long, low, wooden shed, 
 covered with rough, unjointed boards, placed upright, 
 and unbattened. This was the " spirit-house," used for 
 the storage of the spirits of turpentine when barrelled 
 for market, and awaiting shipment. In the creek, and 
 filling nearly one-half of the channel in front of the 
 spirit-shed, was a raft of pine timber, on which were 
 laden some two hundred barrels of rosin. On such rude 
 conveyances the turpentine-maker sent his produce to 
 Conwayboro'. There the timber-raft was sold to my way- 
 side friend. Captain B , and its fi'eight shipped on 
 
 board vessel for Xew York. 
 
266 AMONG THE PINES. 
 
 Two "prime" negro men, dressed in the usual cos- 
 tume, were " tending the still ;" and a negro woman, as 
 stout and strong as the men, and clad in a short, loose, 
 linsey gown, from beneath which peeped out a pair of 
 coarse leggins, was adjusting a long wooden trough, 
 which conveyed the liquid rosin from the "still" to a 
 deep excavation in the earth, at a short distance. In 
 the pit was a quantity of rosin sufficient to fill a thousand 
 barrels. 
 
 " Here, Bill," said Barnes to one of the negro men, as 
 we pulled up at the distillery, "put these critters up, 
 and give 'em sum oats, and when they've cooled off a 
 bit, water 'em." 
 
 "Yas, yas, massa," replied the negro, springing nim- 
 bly forward, and taking the horses by the bridles, " an' 
 rub 'em down, massa ?" 
 
 " Yas, rub 'cm doAvn right smart," replied the corn- 
 cracker; then turning to me, as we dismounted, he said: 
 "Stranger, thet's th' sort o' niggers fur ye; all uv mine 
 ar' jess like him — smart and lively as kittens." 
 
 "He does seem to go about his work cheerfully," I 
 replied. 
 
 "Cheerfully I d d ef he doant — all on 'em du ! 
 
 They like me better'n thar own young 'uns, an' it's 'cause 
 I use 'em like human bein's ;" and he looked slyly to- 
 ward the Colonel, who just then was walking silently 
 away, in the direction of the run, as if in search of the 
 drowned " chattels." 
 
 " Not thar, Cunnel," cried the native ; " they're inter 
 
267 
 
 th' shed ;" and he started to lead the way to the " spirit- 
 house." 
 
 *' Not now, Barnes," I said, putting my hand on his 
 arm: "leave him alone for a httle while. He is feeling 
 biidly, and we'd better not disturb him just yet." 
 
 The native motioned me to a seat on a rosin-barrel, 
 as he rephed : 
 
 "Wal, he 'pears ter — thet's a fact, and he orter. 
 
 D d ef it arn't wicked to use niggers like cattle, as 
 
 he do." 
 
 " I don't think he means to ill-treat them — he's a kind- 
 hearted man." 
 
 " Wal, he ar sort o' so ; but he's left ev'ry thing ter 
 
 thet d d overseer uv his'n. I wudn't ha' trusted 
 
 him to feed my hogs." 
 
 " Hogs !" I exclaimed, laughing ; " I supposed you 
 didn't feed hogs in these diggins. I supposed you ' let 
 'em run.' " 
 
 " I doant ; an' I've got th' tallest porkys round 
 har." 
 
 " I've been told that they get a good hving in the 
 woods." 
 
 " Wal, p r'aps the' du jest make eout ter live thar; but 
 my ole 'oman Ukes 'em ter hum — they clean up a place 
 like— eat up all th' leavm's, an' give th' young nigs 
 suthin' ter du." 
 
 " It seems to me," I said, resuming the previous thread 
 of the conversation; "that overseers are a necessity 
 on a large plantfition." 
 
268 AMONG THE PINES. 
 
 " Wul, the' ar', an' thet's why thar orteiit ter be no big 
 plantations ; God Almighty didn't make human bein's 
 ter be herded togethar in th' woods like hogs. Xo man 
 orter ter hev more'n twenty on 'em — he can't look arter 
 no more himself, an' its agin natur ter set a feller over 'em 
 what hain't no int'rest in 'em, an' no feelin' fur 'em, an' 
 who'll drive 'em round like brutes. I never struck one 
 on 'em in my life, an' my ten du more'n ony fifteen th' 
 Gunnel's got." 
 
 " I thought they needed occasional correction. How 
 do you manage them without whipping ?" 
 
 "Manage them! why 'cordin' ter scriptur — do ter 'em 
 as I'd like ter be dun ter, ef I war a nigger. Every one 
 on 'em knows I'd part with my last shirt, an' live on 
 taters an' cow-fodder, fore Td sell em ; an' then I give 
 'em Saturdays for 'emselfs — but thet's cute dealin' in me 
 (tho' th' pore, simple souls doant see it), fur ye knows 
 the' work tliet day for 'emselfs, an' raise nigh all thar 
 own feed, 'cept th' beef and whiskey — an' it sort.o' 
 makes 'em feel like folks, too, more Hke as ef the' war 
 free — the' work th' better fur it all th' week." 
 
 " Then you tliink the blacks would work better if 
 free?" 
 
 "In course I does — its agin man's natur to be a slave. 
 Thet lousy parson ye herd ter meetin, a Sunday, makes 
 slavery eout a divine institposhun, but my wife's a Bible 
 
 'oman, and she says 'taint so ; an' I'm d d ef she arn't 
 
 right." 
 
 "Is your wife a South Carolina lady ?" 
 
^'ONE MORE UNFORTUNATE." 269 
 
 " No, she an' me's from tli' old North— old Car'tret, 
 nigh on ter Newbern ; an' we doant take nat'rally to 
 these fire-eaters." 
 
 " Have you been here long ?" 
 
 "Wal, nigh on ter six yar. I cum har with nuthin' 
 but a thousan' ter my back — slapped thet inter fifteen 
 hun'red acres — paid it down — and then hired ten likely, 
 North Carolina niggers — hired 'em with th' chance uv 
 buyin' ef the' liked eout har. Wal, th' nigs all know'd 
 me, and the' sprung ter it like blazes ; so every yar I've 
 managed ter buy two on 'em, and now I've ten grow'd 
 up, and thar young 'uns ; th' still and all th' traps paid 
 
 fur, an' ef this d d secesh bis'ness hadn't a come 
 
 'long, I'd hev hed a right smart chance o' doin' well." 
 
 " I'm satisfied secession will ruin the turpentine busi- 
 ness ; you'll be shut up here, unable to sell your produce, 
 and it will go to waste." 
 
 '' Thet's my 'pinion ; but I reckon I kin' manage now 
 witheout turpentime. I've talked it over 'long with my 
 nigs, and we kalkerlate, ef these ar doin's go eny fur- 
 der, ter tap no more trees, but clar land an' go ter raisin' 
 craps.'" 
 
 " What ! do you talk poUtics with your negroes ?" 
 
 "Nary a politic — but I'm d d ef th' critters doan't 
 
 larii 'em sumhow; the' knows 'bout as much uv what's 
 goin' on as I du — but plantin aru't poUtics ; its bisness, 
 an' they've more infrest in it nor I hev, 'cause they've 
 sixteen mouths ter feed agin my four." 
 
 " I'm glad, my friend, that you treat them Hke men : 
 
270 AMONG THE PINES. 
 
 but I have supposed they were not well enough informed 
 to have intelligent opinions on such subjects." 
 
 " Informed ! wal, I reckon the' is ; all uv mine kin 
 read, an' sum on 'em kin write, too. D'ye see thot 
 little nig thar ?" pointing to a juvenile coal-black darky 
 of about six years, who was standing before the "still" 
 lire ; " thet ar little devil kin read an' speak like a par- 
 son. He's got hold, sumhow, uv my little gal's book 
 o' pieces, an' larned a dozen on 'em. I make him cum 
 inter th' house, once in a while uv an evenin', an' 
 speechify, an' 'twould do yer soul good ter har him, in 
 his shirt taU, with a old sheet wound round him fur 
 a toger (I've told him th' play-acters du it so down ter 
 Charles'on), an' spoutin' out: 'My name am Xorval ; on 
 de Gruntin' hills my fader feed him liogs !' The little 
 coon never ^eed a sheep, an' my wife's told him a flock's 
 a herd, an' he thinks ' hog' sounds better'n ' flock,' so, 
 contrary ter th' book, he puts in ' hogs,' and hogs, you 
 knows, hev ter grunt, so he gits 'em on th' ' Gruntin 
 hiUs ;" and here the kind-hearted native burst into a fit 
 of uproarious laughter, in which, in spite of myself, I had 
 to join. 
 
 When the merriment had somewhat subsided, the 
 turpentine-maker called out. to the httle darky : 
 
 " Come here, Jim." 
 
 The young chattel ran to him with alacrity, and 
 wedging in between his legs, placed his little black hands, 
 in a free-and-easy way, on his master's knees, and, look- 
 ing up trustfiiUy in his face, said : 
 
» 971 
 
 "ONE MORE UKFORTUNATE. ^'^ 
 
 " "Wal, massa ?" 
 "What's yt'f name?" 
 " Daiulv Jim, massa." 
 "Thetarn't all— wl.afs th'rest?" 
 '.'Dandy Jim of ole Car'lina." 
 " Who raaile ye ?" 
 
 " De good God, massa." • „ Wp 
 
 "Xo lie didn't: God doant make little n.gs. He 
 
 ..U. lone but white folks ;" s^d the master, ^ughmg^ 
 
 "Yas He'm do; Missus say He'm do; dat He make 
 
 dis ni.' iess like He done little Totty." 
 
 " Wa , He did, Jim. I'm d— d ef He d.dn't, fur 
 nobodv ;ise cud make yer replied the man, pattmg the 
 little woolly head with undisguised affection. ^ ^^ 
 " Now, Jim. say tV ereed fur ' de gemman. 
 The young darky then repeated the Apostle's Creed 
 and the Ten Commandments. 
 "Is thet all ye knows?" 
 " No, massa, I knows a heap 'sides dat. 
 "AVal, say suthin' more-sum on 'em pieces thet 
 
 ''"Se'little fellow then repeated with entire correctness, 
 and with appropriate gestures, and emphasis, though m 
 ,he genuine darky dialect-which seems to be inborn 
 with the pure Southern black-Mrs. Hemans poem : 
 " The boy stood on the burning deck." 
 "Mrs.Hemaus draped in bl.ack!" I exehiimod laughing 
 heartily: "How would the good lady feel, could she look 
 
272 AMONG THE PINES. 
 
 down from wliere she is, and hear a little darky doing 
 up her poetry in that style?" 
 
 " D d ef I doant b'lieve 'twud make her love tli' 
 
 little nig like I do;" replied the corn-cracker, taking 
 hun up on his knee as tenderly as he would have taken 
 up his own child. 
 
 " Tell me, my little man," I said : " who taught you 
 all these things ?" 
 
 " I larned 'em, myseff, sar," was the prompt reply. 
 
 "You learned them, yourself! but who taught you 
 to read ?" 
 
 " I larned 'em myseff, sar !" 
 
 " You couldn't have learned that yourself; didn't your 
 ' massa' teach you ?" 
 
 " No, sar." 
 
 " Oh ! your ' missus' did." 
 
 "No, sar." 
 
 " No, sar !" I repeated ; then suspecting the real state 
 of the case, I looked him sternly in the eye, and said : 
 " My Uttle man, it's wrong to tell lies — you must always 
 speak the ttuth ; now, tell me truly, did not your ' mis- 
 sus' teach you these things ?" 
 
 " No, sar, I larned 'em myseff." 
 
 " Ye can't cum it. Stranger ; ye moight roast him 
 over a slow fire, an' not git nary a thing eout on liim but 
 thet," said the corn-cracker, leaning forward, and break- 
 ing into a boisterous fit of laughter. "It's agin th' 
 
 law, an' I'm d d ef I teached him. Reckon he did 
 
 larn himself!" 
 
*' OXE MOKE UXFORTUNATE." 273 
 
 " I must know your wife, my friend. She's a good 
 woman." 
 
 "Good! ye kin bet high on thet; she's uv th' stuff 
 th' Lord makes angels eout on." 
 
 I had no doubt of it, and was about to say so, when 
 the Colonel's turpentine wagon drove up, and I remem- 
 bered I had left him too long alone, 
 
 The coachman was driving, and Jim sat on the wagon 
 beside him. 
 
 "Massa K ," said the latter, getting down and 
 
 coming to me : " Whar am dey ?" 
 " In the spirit-shed." 
 
 He was turning to go there, when I called hun back, 
 saying: "Jim, you must not see your master now; you'd 
 better keep out of sight for the present." 
 
 " No, massa ; de ma'am say de Gunnel take dis bery 
 hard, and dat I orter tell him I'se sorry for what I'se 
 done." 
 
 " Well, wait a while. Let me go in first." 
 Accompanied by the corn-cracker, I entered the tur- 
 pentine-shed. A row of spirit-barrels were ranged 
 along each of its sides, and two tiers occupied the centre 
 of the building. Gn these a number of loose planks 
 were placed, and on the planks lay the bodies of the 
 metif woman and her child. The Colonel was seated on 
 a barrel near them, with his head resting on his hands, 
 and his eyes fixed on the ground. He did not seem to 
 notice our entrance, and, passing him without speak- 
 ing, I stepped to the side of the dead. 
 12* 
 
274 AMOXG THE PINES. 
 
 The woman's dress, the common linsey gown worn by 
 her class, was still wet, and her short, kinky, brown hair 
 fell in matted folds around her head. One arm hung 
 loosely by her side ; the other was clasped tightly around 
 her child, which lay as if asleep on her bosom. One ot 
 its small hands clung to its mother's breast, and around 
 its little lips played a smile. But how shall I describe 
 the pale, sweet beauty of the face of the drowned girl, as 
 she lay there, her eyes closed, and her lips parted, as in 
 prayer ? Never but once have I seen on human features 
 the strange radiance that shone upon it, or the mingled 
 expression of hope, and peace, and resignation that rested 
 there — and that was in the long-gone time, when, stand- 
 ing by her bedside, I watched the passing away of one 
 who is now an angel in heaven ! 
 
 " Come, my dear friend, let us go," I said, turning 
 and gently taking the Colonel by the arm, "the negroes 
 are here, and will take charge of the dead." 
 
 "Xo, no!" he replied, rising, and looking around, as 
 if aroused from a troubled dream ; " that is for me to 
 do!" Then he added, after a moment's pause, "Will 
 you help me to get them into the wagon V 
 
 " Yes, I will, certainly." 
 
 He made one step toward the body of the dead girl, 
 then sinking down again on the barrel, covered his face 
 with his hands, and cried out: "My God! this is terri- 
 ble! Did you ever see such a look as that? It will 
 haunt me forever !" 
 
 " Come, my friend, rouse yourself — this is weakness ; 
 
"one more unforttinate." 275 
 
 you are tired with the long ride and excitement of the 
 past foAV days. Come, go home— I wiU look after them." 
 " Xo, no ! I must do it. I will he a man again ;" and 
 he rose and walked steadily to the dead bodies. "Is 
 there any one here to help?" he asked. 
 
 Jim was standing in the door-way, and I motioned to 
 him to come forward. The great tears were streaming 
 down his face as he stepped timidly towards his master, 
 and said: "I'll do dis, massa, don't you trubble yerself 
 no more." 
 
 "It's good of you, Jim. You'U forgive me for being 
 so cruel to you, wont you ?" said the Colonel, takmg the 
 black by the hand. 
 
 "Forgib ye, massa! J war aU ter blame— but ye'll 
 forgib me, massa— ye'll forgib me !" cried the black, with 
 strong emotion. 
 
 "Yes, yes; but say no more about it. Come, let us 
 get Juhe home." 
 
 But the poor girl was already Aome— home w^here her 
 sufferings' and her sorrows were over, and all her tears 
 were wiped away forever ! 
 
 We four bore away the mother and the child. A 
 number of blankets w^ere in the bottom of the wagon, 
 and we laid the bodies carefully upon them. When aU 
 seemed ready, the Colonel, who was still standing by 
 the side of the dead, turned to my new friend, and said: 
 "Barnes, will you loan me a pillow? I will send it 
 back to-night." 
 
 "Sartin, Cunnel ;" ar.d the farmer soon brought one 
 
276 AMONG THE PINES. 
 
 from the house. Lifting tenderly the head of the 
 di'owned girl, the Colonel j^laced it beneath her, and 
 smoothing back her tangled hair, he gently covered her 
 face with his handkerchief, as if she could still feel his 
 kindness, or longer cared for the pity or the love of 
 mortal. Yet, who knows but that her parted soul, from 
 the high realm to which it had soared, may not then have 
 looked down, have seen that act, and have forgiven him ! 
 
THE SMALL PLAXTKR. 277 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 THE SMALL PLANTER. 
 
 In the first moments of grief the sympathy of friends, 
 and the words of consolation bring no reUef. How much 
 more harshly do such words grate on the ear when the 
 soul is bowed down by remorse and unavailing regret ! 
 Then the wounded spirit finds peace nowhere but with 
 God. 
 
 I saw that the Colonel would be alone, and turnino-to 
 him, as he prepared to follow the strange vehicle, which, 
 with its load of death, was already jolting its way over 
 the rough forest road, I said, 
 
 " Will you pardon me, if I remain with your friend 
 here for awhile ? I will be at the mansion before dark." 
 
 "Oh, certainly, my friend, come when you feel dis- 
 posed," he replied, and mounting his horse he was soon 
 out of sight among the trees. 
 
 " N'ow, Barnes," I said, shaking off the gloomy feel- 
 ings that had oppressed me : " come, I must see that 
 wife of yours, and get a glimpse of how you hve ?" 
 
 "Sartin, stranger; come in; I'll give ye th' tallest 
 dmner my 'oman can scare up, an' she's sum pumkins 
 in th' cookin' Hue ;" and he led the way to the farm- 
 house. 
 
 As I tunnd to follow, I slipped a half-dollar into the 
 
278 AMONG THE PINES. 
 
 hand of the darky who was holding my horse, and asked 
 him to pnt her again into the stable. 
 
 " I'll do dat, sar, but I karn't take dis ; massa doant 
 'low it nohow;" he replied, tendering me back the 
 money. 
 
 " Barnes, yom- negroes have strange ways; I never met 
 one before who'd refuse money." 
 
 " Wal, stranger, 'taint hosspetality to take money on 
 yer friends, and Bill gets all he wants from me." 
 
 I took the silver and gave it to the first darky I met, 
 who happened to be an old centenarian belonging to 
 the Colonel. As I tossed it to him, he grinned out: " Ah, 
 massa, I'll git sum 'backer wid dis ; 'pears like I hadn't 
 nary a chaw in furty yar." With more than one leg in 
 the grave the old negro had not lost his appetite for the 
 weed — in fact, that and whiskey are the only " luxuries" 
 ever known to the plantation black. 
 
 As we went nearer, I took a closer survey of the 
 farm-house. It was, as I have said, a low, unpainted 
 wooden building, located in the middle of a ten acre lot. 
 It. was approached by a straight walk, paved with a 
 mixture of sand and tar, similar to that which the 
 reader may have seen in the Champs Elysees. I do 
 not know whether my back-woods friend, or the Parisian 
 pavior, was the first inventor of this composition, but I 
 am satisfied the corn-cracker had not stolen it from the 
 stone-cracker. The walk was lined with fruit-bearino: 
 shrubs, and directly in front of the house, were two 
 small flower-beds. 
 
THE SMALL PLANTER. 279 
 
 The dwelling itself, though of a clingy brown wood- 
 color, was neat and inviting. It may have been forty 
 feet square on the ground, and was only a story and 
 a half high, but a projecting roof, and a front dormer- 
 window, relieved it from the appearance of dispropor- 
 tion. Its gable ends were surmounted by two enormous 
 brick chimneys, carried up on the outside, in the fashion 
 of the South, and its high, broad windows were orna- 
 mented Avith Venetian blinds. Its front door opened 
 directly into the "living-room," and at the threshold 
 we met its mistress. 
 
 As the uuage of that lady has still a warm place in a 
 pleasant corner of my memory, I will describe her. She 
 was about thirty years of age, and had a fresh, cheerful 
 face. To say that she was handsome, would not be 
 strictly true ; though she had that pleasant, gentle, kindly 
 expression that sometimes makes even a homely person 
 seem beautiful. But she was not homely. Her features 
 were regular, her hair, glossy and brown, and her eyes, 
 black and brilliant, and, for their color, the mildest and 
 softest I had ever seen. Her figure was tall, and in its 
 outline somewhat sharp and angular, but she had an 
 ease and grace about her that made one forget she was 
 not moulded as softly and roundly as others. She 
 seemed just the woman on whose bosom a tired, wor«, 
 over-burdened man might lay his weary head, and find 
 rest and forgetfulness. 
 
 She wore a neat calico dress, fitting closely to the 
 neck, and an apron of spotless white muslin. A little 
 
2 so AMONG THE PINES. 
 
 lace cap perched cosily on the back of her head, hiding 
 a portion of her wavy, dark hair, and on her feet — a 
 miracle, reader, in one of her class — were stockings and 
 shoes! Giving me her hand — which, at the risk of 
 making her husband jealous, I held for a moment — she 
 said, making a gentle courtesy : 
 
 " Ye ar welcome, stranger." 
 
 " I sincerely thank you, madam ; I ain a stranger in 
 these parts." 
 
 She tendered me a chair, while her husband opened a 
 sideboard, and brought forth a box of Havanas, and a 
 decanter of Scuppernong. As I took the proffered seat, 
 he offered me the refreshments. I drank the lady's 
 health in the wine, but declined the cigars. Seeing this, 
 she remarked : 
 
 *' Yer from th' :N'orth, sir ; arn't ye ?" 
 
 " Yes, madam, I live in New York, but I was bom 
 in New-England." 
 
 " I reckoned so ; I knew ye didn't belong in Car'- 
 lina." 
 
 " How did you know that, madam?" I asked, laughing. 
 
 " I seed ye doan't smoke 'fore wimmin. But ye 
 musn't mind me ; I sort o' likes it; its a great comfut to 
 John, and may be it ar to ye." 
 
 " Well, I do relish a good cigar, but I never smoke 
 before any lady except my wife, and though she's only 
 ' a little lower than the angels,' she does^ once in awhile, 
 say it's a shame to make the house, smell Uke a tobacco 
 factory." 
 
TUE SMALL PLANTER. 281 
 
 Barnes hauded me the box again, and I took one. As 
 I was lighting it, he said : 
 
 ''Ye've got a good 'onian, hev ye?" 
 
 " There's none better ; at least, I think so." 
 
 " Wal, I'm 'zactly nv thet 'pinion 'bout mine : I 
 wouldn't trade her fur all this worle, an' th' best half 
 uv 'tother." 
 
 " Don't ye talk so, John," said the lady ; then address- 
 ino^ me, she added : " It's a ojood husband thet makes a 
 good wife, sir." 
 
 "Sometimes, madam, but not always. I've known 
 some of the best of wives who had miserable husbands." 
 
 "An' I'm d d ef I made my wife th' 'oman she ar'," 
 
 said the corn-cracker. 
 
 " Hush, John ; ye musn't sw'ar so ; ye knows how 
 often ye've said ye wouldn't." 
 
 " Wal, I du, an' I wont agin, by . But Sukey, 
 
 whar's th' young 'uns?" 
 
 "Out in the lot, I reckon ; but ye musn't holler'm in — • 
 they'r aU dirt." 
 
 " Xo matter for that, madam," I said ; " dirt is healthy 
 for little ones ; rolling in the mud makes them grow." 
 
 "Then our'n orter grow right smart, fur they'r in it 
 allers." 
 
 " How many have you, madam ?" 
 
 " Two ; a little boy, four, and a little gal, six." 
 
 "They're of interesting ages." 
 
 " Yas, the' is int'restin' ; ev'ry 'uns own chil'ren is 
 smart ; but the' does know a heap. John was off ter 
 
282 A3I0NG THE PINES. 
 
 Gharl'ston no great while back, an' the little boy used 
 ter pray ev'ry mornin' an' ev'nin' fur his fader ter cum 
 hum. I larned 'em thet jest so soon as the' talked, 'cause 
 thar's no tellin' how quick the' moight be tooken 'way. 
 Wal, the little teller prayed ev'ry mornin' an' ev'nin' 
 fur his fader ter cum back; an' John didn't cum; so 
 finarly he got sort o' provoked with th' Lord ; an' he 
 said God war aither deaf, an' couldn't har, or he war 
 naughty, an' wouldn't tell fader thet little Johnny want- 
 ed to seed 'im ' werry mooch' " — and here the good lady 
 laughed pleasantly, and I joined in most heartily. 
 
 Blessed are the children that have such a mother. 
 
 Soon the husband returned with the little girl and boy, 
 and four young ebonies, all bare-headed, and dressed alike, 
 in thick trousers, and a loose linsey shirt. Among them 
 was my new acquaintance, " Dandy Jim, of ole Carolina." 
 
 Tiie little girl came to me, and soon I had two white 
 children on one knee, and two black on the other, and 
 Dandy Jim between my legs, playing with my watch- 
 chain. The family made no distinction between the 
 colors, and as the children were all equally clean I did 
 not see why Z should do so. 
 
 The lady renewed the conversation by remarking; 
 "P'raps ye reckon it's quar, sir, that we low ourn to 
 'sociate long with th' black chil'ren ; but we karn't help 
 it. On big plantations it works sorry bad, fur th' white 
 young 'uns larn all manner of evil from the black 'uns; 
 but I've laboored ter teach our'n so one wont do no harm 
 ter 'tother." 
 
THE SMALL PLANTER. 283 
 
 " I suppose, madam, that is one of the greatest evils 
 of slavery. The low black poisons the mind of the white 
 child, and the bad inHuence hists through life." 
 
 '' Yas, it's so, stranger ; an' it's the biggest keer I hev. 
 It often 'pears strange ter me thet our grow'd up men 
 arn't no wuss then the' is." 
 
 In those few words that unlettered woman had said, 
 what would — if men were but wise enough to hear and 
 heed the great truth which she spoke — banish slavery 
 from this continent forever ! 
 
 After awhile the farmer told the juvenile delineator of 
 Mrs. Hemans, and the other poets, to give us a song ; 
 and planting himself in the middle of the floor, the little 
 darky sang " Dixie," and several other negro songs, 
 which his master had taught him, but into which he 
 had introduced some amusing variations of his own. 
 The other children jomed in the choruses ; and then Jim 
 danced breakdowns, " walk-along- Joes," and other darky 
 dances, his master accompanying him on a cracked fid- 
 dle, till my sides were sore with laughter, and the hostess 
 begged them to stop. Finally the clock struck twelve, 
 and the tarmer, going to the door, gave a long, loud blast 
 on a cow's horn. In about five minutes one after another 
 of the field hands came in, till the whole ten had seated 
 themselves on the verandah. Each carried a bowl, a tin- 
 cup, or a gourd, into which my host — Avho soon emerged 
 from a back room* with a pail of whiskey in his hand — 
 
 * The whiskey was kept in a back room, above ground, because the dwelling 
 nad no cellar. The fluid was kept safely, under lock and key, and the farmer :ic- 
 
28-i AMONG THE PINES. 
 
 poured a gill of the beverage. This was the day's al- 
 lowance, and the farmer, in answer to a question of 
 mine, told me he thought negroes were healthier, and 
 worked better for a small quantity of alcohol daily. 
 "The' work hard, and salt feed doant set 'em up 'nough," 
 was his remark. 
 
 Meanwhile the hostess busied herself with preparations 
 far dinner, and it was soon spread on a bright cherry 
 table, covered by a spotless white cloth. The little 
 darkies had scattered to the several cabins, and we soon 
 sat down to as good a meal as I ever ate at the South. 
 
 We were waited on by a tidy negro woman, neatly 
 clad in a caUco gown, with shoes on her feet, and a flow- 
 ing red and yellow 'kerchief on her head. . This last was 
 worn in the form of a turban, and one end escaping from 
 behind, and hanging down her back, it looked for all the 
 world like a flag hung out from a top turret. Observing 
 it, my host said : 
 
 " Aggy — showin' yer colors ? Ye'r Union gal — hey?" 
 
 " Yas, I is dat, massa ; Union ter de back bone ;" re- 
 sponded the negress, grinning widely. 
 
 "All th' Union ye knows on," replied the master, 
 winking slyly at me, " is th' union yer goin' ter hitch up 
 'long with black Cale over ter Squire Taylor's." 
 
 "Xo, 'taint, massa; takes more'n tu ter make de 
 Union." 
 
 counted for that, by saying that his negroes -would steal nothing but whiskey. 
 Few ountry houses at the South have a cellar — that apartment deemed so es- 
 sential by Northern housekeepers. The intervening space between the ground 
 and the floor is there left open, to allow of a free cii-culation of air. 
 
THE SMALL PLANTER. 
 
 285 
 
 "Yas, I knows— it gin'rally takes ten or a dozen: 
 reckon it'll take a dozen with ye." 
 
 " John, ye musn't talk so ter th' sarvents ; it spiles 
 'em," said his wife. 
 
 " Xo it doant — do it, Aggy ?" 
 
 " Lor', missus, I doant keer what massa say ; but I 
 doant leff no oder man run on so ter me !" 
 
 " No more'n ye doant, gal ! only Cale." 
 
 " Xor him, massa ; I makes him stan' roun', Jreekon." 
 
 " I reckon ye du ; ye wudn't be yer massa' s gal ef ye 
 didn't." 
 
 When the meal was over, I visited, with my host, the 
 negro houses. The hour allowed for dinner* was about 
 expiring, and the darkies were preparing to return to 
 the field. Entering one of the cabins, where were two 
 stout negro men and a woman, my host said to them, 
 with a perfectly serious face : 
 
 " Har, boys, I've fotched ye a live Yankee ab'Hshener; 
 now, luk at 'im all roun'. Did ye ever see sech a critter ?" 
 
 " Doant see nufiin' quar in dat gemman, massa," re- 
 plied one of the blacks. " Him 'pears like bery nice 
 gemman ; doant 'pear like ab'lishener ;" and he laughed, 
 and scraped his head in the manner peculiar to the negro, 
 as he added: " kinder reckon he wudn't be har ef he war 
 one of dem^ 
 
 " What der ye knows 'bout th' ab'lisheners ? Ye never 
 seed one — what d'ye 'spose the' luk like ?" 
 
 * Xo rc-ular dinner-hour is allowed the blacks on most turpentine plantations. 
 Their food is usually either taken with them to the woods, or carried there hy 
 house servants, at stated times. 
 
256 AMONG THE PLNE8. 
 
 " Dey say dey luk likes de bery ole debil, massa, but 
 reckon tiunt so." 
 
 " Wal, the' doant ; the' luk wuss then thet : they'm 
 bottled up thunder an' lightnin', an' ef the' cum down 
 har, they'll chaw ye all ter hash." 
 
 " I reckon !" repHed the darky, manipulating his wool, 
 and distending his face into a decidedly incredulous grin. 
 
 " What do you tell them such things for ?" I asked, 
 good-humoredly. 
 
 "Lor, bless ye, stranger, the' knows th' ab'lisheners 
 ar thar friends, jest so well as ye du ; and so fur as thet 
 
 goes, d d ef the' doan't know I'm one on 'em mysefi', 
 
 fur I tells 'em, ef the' want to put, the' kin put, an' I'll 
 throw thar trav'lin 'speuces inter th' bargin. Doan't I 
 tell ye thet, Lazarus." 
 
 " YaSj massa, but none ob massa's nigs am gwine ter 
 put — lesswise, not so long as you an' de good missus, 
 am 'bore groun'." 
 
 The darky's name struck me as peculiar, and I asked 
 him where he got it. 
 
 '■'''' TainH my name, sar; but you see, sar, w'en massa 
 
 fuss hire me ob ole Capt'in , up dar ter Xewbern- 
 
 way, I war sort o' sorry like — hadn't no bery good 
 does — an' massa, he den call me Lazarus, 'case he say I 
 war all ober rags and holes, an' it hab sort o' stuck ter 
 me eber sense. I Avar a'mighty bad off 'fore dat, but 
 w'en I cum dowTi har I gets inter Abr'am's buzzum, I 
 does ;" and here the darky actually reeled on his seat 
 with lauo-hter. 
 
THE SMALL PLANTER. 287 
 
 "Is tills woman your wife?" I asked. 
 
 " Xo, sar; my wife 'longs to Gunnel J ; dat am my 
 
 new wife — my ole wife am up dar wliar I cum from !" 
 
 " What ! have you two wives ?" 
 
 " Yas, massa, I'se two." 
 
 " But that's contrary to Scripture." 
 
 " No, sar; de Gunnel say 'tain't. He say in Scriptur' 
 dey hab a heap ob' 'em, and dat niggers kin hab jess so 
 many as dey likes — a hun'red ef dey want ter." 
 
 "Does the Golonel teach that to his negroes?" I 
 asked, turnmg to the native. 
 
 " Yas, I reckon he do — an' sits 'em th' 'zample, too," 
 he replied, laughing; "but th' old sinner knows better'n 
 thet ; he kin read." 
 
 " Do you find that in the Bible, Lazarus ?" 
 
 " Yas, massa ; whar I reads it. Dat's whar it tell 
 'bout David and SoPmon and all dem — dey hab a heap 
 ob wdves. A pore ole darky karn't hab 'nuffin 'sides 
 dem, an' he orter be 'low^'d jess so many as he likes." 
 
 Laughing at the reasoning of the negro, I asked : 
 
 " How would you like it, if your wile over at Golonel 
 J 's, had as many husbands as she hked ?" 
 
 " Wal, I couldn't fine no fault, massa : an' I s'pose 
 she do ; dough I doan't knows it, 'case I'se dar only 
 Sundays." 
 
 " Have you any children ?" 
 
 " Yas, sar ; I'se free 'longin' ter de Gunnel, an' four 
 or five — I doant 'zactly know — up ter hum ; but dey^se 
 grow'd up." 
 
28S 
 
 AMONG THE PINES. 
 
 " Is your wife, up there, married again ?" 
 
 " Yas, raassa, she got anoder man jess w'en 1 cum 
 'way ; har ole massa make har do it." 
 
 "VVe then left the cabin, and when out of hearing of 
 the blacks, I said to the corn-cracker: "That niay be 
 Scripture doctrine, but I have not been taught so !" 
 
 " Scriptur or no Scriptur, stranger, it's d -d hea- 
 thenism," replied the farmer, who, take him all in all, 
 is a superior specimen of the class of small-planters 
 at the South ; and yet, seeing polygamy practised by 
 his own slaves, he made no eftbrt to prevent it. He 
 told me that if he should object to his darky cohabiting 
 with the Colonel's negress, it would be regarded as un- 
 neighborly, and secure him the enmity of the whole 
 district ! And still we are told that slavery is a Divine 
 institution ! 
 
 After this, we strolled off into the woods, where the 
 hands were at work. They w^ere all stout, healthy 
 and happy-looking, and in answer to my comments on 
 their appearance, the native said that the negroes on the 
 turpentine farms are always stronger and longer-lived, 
 than those on the rice and cotton-fields. Unless carried 
 off by the fevers incident to the climate, they generally 
 reach a good old age, Avhile the rice-negro seldom lives 
 to be over forty, and the cotton-slave very rarely attains 
 sixty. . Cotton-growing, however, my host thought, is 
 not, in itself, much more unhealthy than turpentine- 
 gathering, though cotton-hands Avork in the sun, while 
 the turpentine slaves labor altogether in the shade. 
 
THE SMALL PLANTER. 289 
 
 *' But," he said, " the' work 'em harder nor we does, an' 
 doan't feed 'em so well. We give our'n meat and 
 whiskey ev'ry day, but them articles is skarse 'moiig 
 th' cotton blacks, an' th' rice niggers never get 'em 
 excep' ter Chris'mas time, an' thet cums but onst a 
 yar." 
 
 "Do you think the white could labor as well as xhe 
 black, on the rice and cotton-fields ?" I asked. 
 
 "Yas, an' better — better onywhar; but, in coorse, 
 'tain't natur' fur black nor white ter stand long a woiKin' 
 in th' mud and water up ter thar knees ; sech work 
 wud kill ofl" th' very devil arter a while. But th' white 
 kin stand it longer nor the black, and its' 'cordin' ter 
 reason that he shud ; fur, I reckon, stranger, that the 
 sperit and pluck uv a man hev a durned sight ter du 
 with work. They'll hole a man up when he's clean 
 down, an' how kin we expec' thet the pore nig', who's 
 nary a thing ter work fur, an' who's been kept under 
 an' 'bused ever sense Adam was a young un' — how kin 
 we expec' he'll work like men thet own 'emselfs, an' 
 whose faders hev been free ever sense creation? 1 
 reckon that the parient has a heap ter du with makin' 
 th' chile. He puts the sperit inter 'im : doan't we see 
 it in bosses an' critters an' sech like ? It mayn't crap 
 eout ter onst, but it's shore ter in th' long run, and 
 thet's th' why th' black hain't no smarter nor he is. 
 He's been a-ground down an' kept under fur so long 
 thet it '11 take more'n 'un gin' ration ter bring him up. 
 'Tain't his fault thet he's no more sperit, an' p'raps 
 13 
 
290 AMONG THE PINKS. 
 
 'taiu't ourn — thet is, them on us as uses 'em right — but 
 it war the fault uv yer fader an' mine — yer fader stole 
 'em, and mine bought 'em, an' the' both made cattle uv 
 'em." 
 
 '' But I had supposed the black was better fitted by 
 nature for hard labor, in a hot climate, than the white ?" 
 
 " Wal, he arn't, an' I knows it. Th' d d parsons 
 
 an' poFtishuns say thet, but 'tain't so. I kin do half 
 agin more work in a day then th' best nig' I've got, an' 
 I've dun it, tu, time an' agin, an' it didn't hurt me 
 nuther. Ye knows ef a man hev a wife and young 'uns 
 'pendin' on him, an' arn't much 'forehanded, lie'll work 
 like th' devil. I've dun it, and ye hev ef ye war ever 
 put ter it ; but th' nig's, why the' hain't got no wives 
 and young 'uns ter work fur — the law doan't 'low 'em 
 ter hev any — the' hain't nary a thing but thar carcasses, 
 an' them's thar masters'." 
 
 " You say a man works better for bemg free ; then 
 you must think 'twould be well to free the negroes ?" 
 
 " In coorse, I does. Jest luk at them nig's o' mine ; 
 they're ter all 'tents an' purposes free, 'case I use 'em 
 like men, an' the' knows the' kin go whenever the' 
 
 d d please. See how the' work — why, one on 'em 
 
 does half as much agin as ony hard-driv' nigger in 
 creation." 
 
 " What would you do with them, if they were really 
 free ?" 
 
 *' Du with 'em ? why, hire 'em, an' make twice as 
 much eout on 'em as I does now." 
 
THE SMALL PLANTER. 291 
 
 " But I don't think the two races were meant to live 
 together." 
 
 " No more'n the' warn't. But 'tain't thar fault thet 
 they's har. "We hain't no right ter send 'em off. We 
 orter stand by our'n an' our faders' doin's. The nig' 
 keers more fur his hum, so durned pore as it ar', then 
 ye or I does fur our'n. I'd pack sech off ter Libraria 
 or th' devil, as w^anted ter go, but I'd hev no 'pulsion 
 'bout it." 
 
 "Why, my good friend, you're half-brother to Gar- 
 rison. You don't talk to your neighbors in this way ?" 
 
 " Wal, I doan't ;" he replied, laughing. " Ef I dim 
 it, they'd treat me to a coat uv tar, and ride me out uv 
 th' deestrict raather sudden, I reckon ; but yer a Nuth- 
 ener, an' the' all take nat' rally ter freedum, excep' 
 
 th' d d dough-faces, an' ye aren't one on 'em, I'll 
 
 swar." 
 
 " Well, I'm not. Do many of your neighbors think 
 as you do ?" 
 
 " Reckon not many round har ; but up in Cart'ret, 
 whar I cum from, heajjs on 'cm do, though the' darn't 
 say so." 
 
 By this time we had reached the still, and, directing 
 his attention to the enormous quantity of rosin that had 
 been run into the pit w^hich I have spoken of, I asked 
 him why he threw so much valuable material away. 
 
 " Wal, 'tain't wuth nothin' har. Thet's th' common, 
 an' it won't bring m York, noM-, more'n a dollar forty- 
 five. It costs a dollar an' two bits ter get it thar, and 
 
292 A^IOXG THE PINES. 
 
 pay fur sellin' on it, an' th' barrTs wuth th' difference. 
 I doau't ship nuthin wuss nor Xo. 2." 
 
 " What is Xo. 2 ?" 
 
 He took the head from one of the barrels, and with 
 an adze cut out a small piece, then handing me the speci- 
 men, replied : 
 
 " Xow hole thet up ter th' sun. Ye'll see though its 
 yaller, it's clean and clar. Thet's good Xo. 2, what brings 
 now two dollars and tw^o bits, in York, an' pays me 
 'bout a dollar a barr'l, its got eout o' second yar dip, an' 
 as it comes eout uv th' still, is run through thet ar strainer,' 
 pointing to a coarse wire seive that lay near. "Th' 
 common rosimi, thet th' still's runnin' on now, is made 
 eout on th' yaller dip — thet's th' kine o' turjDentine thet 
 runs from th' tree arter two yars' tappin' — we call it 
 yallar dip ca se it's allers dark. We doant strain com- 
 mon 't all, an' it's full uv chips and dirt. It's low now, but 
 ef it shud ever git up, I'd tap thet ar' heap, barr'l it up, 
 run a Httle fresh stilled inter it, an' 'twould be a'most so 
 good as new." 
 
 " Then it is injured by being in the ground." 
 
 "Xot much ; it's jest as good fur ev'rything but mak- 
 in' ile, puttin it in the 'arth sort o' takes th' sap eout on 
 it, an' th' sap's th' ile. Xatur' sucks thet eout, I s'pose, 
 ter make th' trees grow — I expec' my bones 'ill fodder 
 'em one on these days." 
 
 " Rosin is put to very many uses ?" 
 
 " Yes, but common's used mainly for ile and soap, th' 
 Yankees put it inter hard yaller soap, 'case it makes it 
 
THE SMALL PLANTER. 293 
 
 weigh, an' yer folks is up ter them doin's," and he looked 
 at me and gave a sly laugh. I could not deny the "hard" 
 impeachment, and said nothing. Taking a specimen of 
 very clear light-colored rosin from a shelf in the still- 
 house, I asked him what that quality was worth. 
 
 " Thet ar broucrht seven dollars, for two hundred an' 
 eighty pounds, in York, airly this yar. It's th' very best 
 No. 1 ; an' its hard ter make, 'case ef th' still gets over- 
 het it turns it a tinge. Thet sort is run through two 
 sieves, the coarse 'un, an' thet ar," pointing to another 
 wire strainer, the meshes of which were as fine as those 
 of the flour sieve used by housewives. 
 
 " Do your seven field hands produce enough ' dip' to 
 keep your still a running ?" 
 
 " No, I buys th' rest uv my naboors who haint no 
 stills; an' th' Gunnel's down on me 'case I pay 'em 
 more'n he will; but I go on Franklin's princerpel: 'a 
 nimble sixpence's better'n a slow shillin.' A great ole 
 feller thet, warn't he ? I've got his life." 
 
 "And you practice on his precepts; that's the reason 
 you've got on so well." 
 
 " Yas, thet, an' hard knocks. The best o' doctrin's 
 arn't wuth a d n ef ye doan't work on 'em." 
 
 " That is true." 
 
 We shortly afterward went to the house, and there I 
 passed several hours in conversation with my new friend 
 and his excellent wife. The lady, after a while, showed 
 me over the building. It was well-built, well-arranged, 
 and had many conveniences I did not expect to find in a 
 
294r AlvrONG THE TINES. 
 
 back-woods dwelling. She told me its timbers and 
 covering were of well-seasoned yellow pine — which will 
 last for centuries — and that it was built by a Yankee car- 
 penter, whom they had " 'ported" from Charleston, pay- 
 ing his fare, and giving him his living, and two dollars 
 and a half a day. It had cost as near as she " cud reckon, 
 'bout two thousan' dollars." 
 
 It was five o'clock, when, shaking them warmly by the 
 hand, I bade my pleasant friends " good-bye," and 
 mounting my horse rode off to the Colonel's. 
 
295 
 
 CHAPTER XYIII. 
 
 THE BURIAL OP "JULE." 
 
 The family were at supper when I returned to the 
 mansion, and, entering the room, I took my accustomed 
 phice at the table. Xone present seemed disposed to 
 conversation. The little that was said was spoken in a 
 low, subdued tone, and no allusion was made to the 
 startling event of the day. At last the octoroon woman 
 asked me if I had met Mrs. Barnes at the farmer's. 
 
 " Yes," I replied, " and I was greatly pleased with her. 
 She seems one of those rare women who would lend 
 grace to even the lowest station." 
 
 " She is a rare woman ; a true, sincere Christian. 
 Everyone loves her ; but few know all her worth ; only 
 those do Avho have gone to her in sorrow and trial, as — " 
 and her voice trembled, and her eyes moistened — " as I 
 have." 
 
 And so that jooor, outcast, despised, dishonored 
 woman, scorned and cast-off by all the world, had 
 found one sympathizing, pitying friend. Truly, "He 
 tempers the wind to the shorn lamb." 
 
 When the meal was over, all but Madam P re 
 
 tired to the library. Tommy and I fell to reading, but 
 the Colonel shortly rose and continued pacing up and 
 
2DG AMOXG THE PINES. 
 
 do\rn the apartment till the clock sounded eight. The 
 lady then entered, and said to him. 
 
 "The negroes are ready, David; will you go, Mr. 
 K ^?" 
 
 " I think not, madam," I rej^Ued ; "at least not now." 
 
 I continued reading, for a time, when, tiring of the 
 book, I laid it down, and followed them to the little 
 bui'ial-ground. 
 
 The grave of Sam was open, and the plantation blacks 
 were gathered around it. Li the centre of the group, 
 and at the head of the rude coffin, the Colonel Avas 
 seated, and near him the octoroon woman and her son. 
 The old preacher was speaking. 
 
 " My children," he said : " she hab gone ter Him, wid 
 har chile : gone up dar, whar dey doan't sorrer no more, 
 whar dey doan't weep no more, whar all tears am wiped 
 from dar eyes foreber. I knows she lay ban's on har- 
 seff, and dat, my chil'ren, am whot none ob us shud do, 
 'case we'm de Lord's ; He put us har, an' he'll take us 
 'way when we's fru wid our work, not afore. We hab 
 no right ter gwo afore. Pore Juley did — but p'raps 
 she cudn't help it. P'raps de great sorrer war so big in 
 har heart, dat she cudn't fine rest no whar but in de cole, 
 dark riber. P'raps she warn't ter blame — p'raps," and 
 here his eyes filled : " p'raps ole Pomp war all ter blame, 
 fur 1 tole har, my chilTen" — he could say no more, and 
 sinking down on a rude seat,' he covered his face, and 
 sobbed audibly. Even the Colonel's strong frame heaved 
 with emotion, and not a dry eye was near. After a time 
 
THE BUKTAL OF " JIJLE." 297 
 
 the old man rose again, and with streaming eyes, and 
 upturned face, continued: 
 
 "Dars One up dar, my chil'ren, dat say : 'Come unter 
 Me, all ye dat am a weary an' a heaby laden, an' I will gib 
 you rcss.' He, de good Lord, He say dat ; and p'raps 
 Juley hard Him say it, an' dat make har gwo." Again 
 his voice failed, and he sank down, weeping and moaning 
 as if his heart would break. 
 
 A pause followed, when the Colonel rose, and aided 
 by Jim and two other blacks, with his own hands nailed 
 down the lid, and lowered the rude coffin into the ground. 
 Then the earth was thrown upon it, and then the long, 
 low chant -.vhich the negroes raise over the dead, ming- 
 hng now with sobs and moans, and breaking into a 
 strange wild wail, went up among the j^ines, and floating 
 off on the still night air, echoed through the dark 
 woods, till it sounded like music from the grave. I 
 have been in the chamber of the dpng; I have seen 
 the young and the beautiful laid away in the earth ; but 
 I never felt the solemn awfulness of death, as I did, 
 when, in the stillness and darkness of night, I listened 
 to the wild grief of that negro group, and saw the 
 bodies of that slave mother and her child, lowered to 
 their everlasting rest by the side of Sam. 
 13* 
 
AMONG THE PINES. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 HOMEWARD. 
 
 The morning broke bright and mellow with the rays 
 of the winter sun, which in Carolina lends the warmth 
 of October to the chills of January, when, with my port- 
 manteau strapped, and my thin overcoat on my arm, I 
 gave my last "God bless you" to the octoroon woman, 
 and turned my face toward home. 
 
 Jim shouted "all ready," the driver cracked his whip^ 
 and we were on our way to Georgetown. 
 
 The recent rains had hardened the roads, the bridges 
 were repaired, and we Avere whirled rapidly forward, 
 and, at one o'clock, reached Bucksville. There w^e met 
 a cordial welcome, and remained to dinner. Our host 
 pressed us to pass the night at his house, but the Colonel 
 had business with one of his secession friends residing 
 down the road — my wayside acquaintance, Colonel 
 
 A , and desired to stay overnight with him. At 
 
 three o'clock, bidding a kindly farewell to CajDtain B 
 
 and his excellent family, we were again on our way. 
 
 The sun was just sinking among the western pines, 
 when we turned into a broad avenue, lined with stately 
 old trees, and rode up to the door-way of the rice- 
 
no:^EEWARn. 299 
 
 planter. It was a large, square, clingy old house, seated 
 on a gentle knoll, a short half-mile from the river, along 
 whose banks stretched the rice-fields. AVe entered, and 
 were soon welcomed by its proprietor. 
 
 He received my friend warmly, and gave me a courte- 
 ous greeting, remarking, when I mentioned that I was 
 homeward bound, that it was wise to go. "Things are 
 very unsettled ; there's no telling what a day may bring 
 forth ; feeling is running very high, and a Northern 
 man, whatever his principles, is not safe here. By-the- 
 way," he added, "did you not meet with some Httle 
 obstruction at Conwayboro', on your Avay up ?" 
 
 "Yes, I did; a person there ordered me back, but 
 when things began to look serious, Scipio, the negro 
 whom you saw with me, got me out of the hobble." 
 
 " Didn't he tell the gentleman that you were a par- 
 ticular friend of mine, and had met me by appointment 
 at Captain B 's ?" he asked, smiling. 
 
 " I believe he did, sir ; but I assure you, I said 
 nothing of the kind, and I think the black should not be 
 blamed, under the circumstances." 
 
 " Oh, no ; I don't blame him. I think he did a smart 
 thing. He might have said you were my grandmother, 
 if it would have served you, for that low fellow is as 
 fractious as the devil, and dead sure on the triofo-er." 
 
 "You are very good, sir," I replied: "how did you 
 hear of it ?" 
 
 " A day or two afterward, B passed here on his 
 
 way to Georgetown. I had been riding out, and hap- 
 
300 A]iIONG THE FIXES. 
 
 pcned to be at the head of my avenue when he was 
 going by. He stopped, and asked if I knew you. Xot 
 knowing, then, the circumstances, I said that I had met 
 you casually at Bueksville, but had no particular ac- 
 quaintance with you. He rode on, saying nothing 
 further. The next morning, I had occasion to go to 
 Georgetown, and at Mr. Fraser's office, accidentally 
 heard that Scip — who is well-known and imiversally liked 
 there — was to have a i^ublic whipping that evening. 
 Something prompted me to inquire into it, and I was 
 
 told that he had been chars^ed bv B with shiel din gr 
 
 a well-known aboUtionist at Conwayboro' — a mjin who 
 was going through the up-country, distributing such 
 damnable publications as the Xew York Independent 
 and Tribune. I knew, of course, it referred to you, and 
 that it wasn't true. I went to Scip and got the facts, 
 and by stretching the truth a little, finally got him 
 off. There was a slight discrepancy between my two 
 accounts of you" (and here he laughed heartily), "and 
 
 B , when we were before the Justice, remarked on it, 
 
 and came d d near calling me a liar. It was' lucky 
 
 he didn't, for if he had, he'd have gone to h — 1 before 
 the place was hot enough for him." 
 
 " I cannot tell you, my dear sir, how grateful I am to 
 you for this. It would have pained me more than I can 
 express, if Scip had sufiered for doing a disinterested 
 kindness to me." 
 
 Early in the morning we were again on our way, and 
 twelve o'clock found us seated at a dinner of bacon, 
 
HOMEWARD. 301 
 
 corn-bread, and waffles, in the " first hotel" of George- 
 town. The Charleston boat was to leave at three o'clock; 
 and, as soon as dinner was over, I sallied out to find Scip. 
 After a half-hour's search I found him on "Shackelford's 
 wharf," engaged in loading a schooner bound for Xew 
 York with a cargo of cotton and turpentine. 
 
 He was delighted to see me, and when I had told him 
 I was going home, and might never see him again, I took 
 his hand warmly in mine, and said : 
 
 "Scip, I have heard of the disgrace that was near 
 being put upon you on my account, and I feel deeply 
 the disinterested service you did to me ; now, I ccm not 
 go away without doing something for you — showing you 
 in some way that I appreciate and like you." 
 
 " I like's you., massa," he re^^lied, the tears coming to 
 his eyes: "I tuk ter you de bery fuss day I seed you, 
 'case, I s'pose," and he wrimg my hand till it ached: 
 " you pitied de pore brack man. But you karnt do nuf- 
 fin fur ???e, massa ; I doant want nuffin ; I doant w^ant 
 ter leab bar, 'case de Lord dat put me har, arn't willin' 
 I shud gwo. But you kin do sufiin, massa, fur de pore 
 brack man, — an' dat '11 be doin' it fur me., 'case my heart 
 am all in dat. You kin tell dem folks up dar, whar you 
 lib, massa, dat we'm not like de brutes, as dey tink we is. 
 Dat we's got souls, an' telligenee, an' feelin's, an' am men 
 like demselfs. You kin tell 'em, too, massa, — 'case 
 you's edication, and kin talk — how de pore wite man 
 'am kep' down har; how he'm ragged, an' starvin', an' 
 ob no account, 'case de brack man am a slave. How der 
 
302 AMONG THE PINES. 
 
 chil'ren can't get no schiilein', how eben de grow'd up 
 ones doan't know nuffin — not eben so much as de pore 
 brack slave, 'case de 'stockracy wan't dar votes, an cudn't 
 get 'em ef dey 'low'd 'em larning. Ef your folks know'd 
 all de trufh — ef dey know'd how both de brack an' de 
 pore w'ite man, am on de groun', and can't git up, ob 
 demselfs — dey'd do suffin' — dey'd break de Constertu- 
 tion — dey'd do suffirt ter help us. I doant want no 
 one hurted, I doant want no one wronged; but jess 
 tink ob it, massa, four million ob bracks, and nigh so 
 many pore wites, wid debressed gospil shinin' down on 
 'em, an' dey not knowin' on it. All dem — ebry one of 
 'em — made in de imasre ob de o;reat God, an' dev driven 
 roun', an' 'bused wuss dan de brutes. You's seed dis, 
 massa, wid your own eyes, an' you kin tell 'em on it ; 
 an' you will tell 'em on it, massa ;" and again he took 
 my hand while the tears rolled down his cheeks ; " an' 
 Scip will bress you fur it, massa; wid his bery lass breaf 
 he'll bress you ; an' de good Lord will bress you, too, 
 massa ; He will foreber bress you, fur He'm on de side 
 ob de pore, an' de 'flicted : His own book say dat, an' it 
 am true, I knows it, fur I feels it Aary" and he laid his 
 hand on his heart, and was silent. 
 
 I could not speak for a moment. "VThen I mastered 
 my feelings, I said, "I will do it Scip j as God gives me 
 strength, I wilV^ 
 
 Reader, I am keeping my word. 
 
CONCLUSION. 30o 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 This is not a work of fiction. It is a record of facts, 
 and therefore the reader will not expect me to dispose 
 of its various characters on artistic principles — that is, 
 lay them away in one of those final receptacles for the 
 creations of the romancer — the grave and matrimony. 
 Death has been among them, but nearly all are yet do- 
 ing their work in this breathing, busy world. 
 
 The characters I have introduced are real. They are 
 not drawn with the. pencil of fancy, nor, I trust, colored 
 with the tints of prejudice. The scenes I have described 
 are true. I have taken some liberties with the names of 
 persons and places, and, in a few instances, altered dates ; 
 but the events themselves occurred under my own obser- 
 vation. 'No one acquainted with the section of country 
 I have described, or familiar with the characters I have 
 dehneated, will question this statement. Lest some one 
 who has not seen the slave and the poor white man of 
 the South, as he actually is, should deem my picture 
 overdrawn, I will say that " the half has not been told !" 
 If the whole were related — if the Southern system, in 
 all its naked ugliness, were fully exposed — the truth 
 
30-i AMONG THE PINE?. 
 
 would read like fiction, and the baldest relation of fiict 
 
 like the wildest dream of romance. 
 
 ******* 
 
 The overseer was never taken. A letter which I re- 
 ceived from Colonel J •, shortly prior to the stop- 
 page of the mails, informed me that Moye had succeeded 
 in crossing the mountains into Tennessee, where, in an in- 
 terior town, he disposed of the horse, and then made his 
 way by an inland route to the free states. The horse 
 the Colonel had recovered, but the overseer he never 
 expected to see. Moye is now, no doubt, somewhere in 
 the Xorth, and is probably at this present writing a 
 zealous Cnion man, of somewhat the same " stripe" as 
 the conductors of the Xew York Herald and the Boston 
 Courier. 
 
 I have not heard directly from Scipio, but one dny 
 last July, after a long search, I found on one of the 
 wharves of South Street, a coasting captain, who knew 
 him Avell, and who had seen him the month previous at 
 Georgetown. He was at that time pursuing his usual 
 avocations, and was as much respected and trusted, as 
 when I met him. 
 
 A few days after the tidings of the fall of Sumter 
 were received in Xew York, and when I had witnessed 
 the spontaneous and universal uprising of the Xorth, 
 which followed that event, I dispatched letters to several 
 of my Southern friends, giving them as near as I could 
 an account of the true state of feeling here, and repre- 
 sentinor the utter madness of the course the South . was 
 
COXCLUSION. 305 
 
 pursuing. One of these letters went to my Union ac- 
 quaintance whom I have called, in the preceding pages, 
 *' Andy Jones." 
 
 He promptly replied, and a pretty regular correspond- 
 ence ensued between us, which has continued, at inter- 
 vals, even since the suspension of intercourse between 
 the North and the South. 
 
 Andy has stood firmly and nobly by the old flag. At 
 the risk of every thing, he has boldly expressed his sen- 
 timents everywhere. With his life in his hand, and — a 
 revolver in each of his breeches-pockets, he walked the 
 streets of Wilmington when the secession fever was at 
 its height, openly proclaiming his undying loyalty to 
 the Union, and "no man dared gainsay him." 
 
 But with all his patriotism, Andy keeps a bright eye 
 on the " main chance." Like his brother, the XortherPv 
 Yankee, whom he somewhat resembles and greatly ad- 
 mires, he never omits an opportunity of "turning an 
 honest penny." In defiance of custom-house regulations, 
 and of our strict blockade, he has carried on a more or 
 lens regular traffic with Xew York and Boston {via 
 Halifax and other neutral ports), ever since North Caro- 
 liiia seceded. His turpentiue — while it was still his 
 property — has been sold in the New York market, 
 under the very eyes of the government officials — and, 
 honest reader, J have known of it. 
 
 By various roundabout means, I have recently re- 
 ceived letters from him. His last, dated in April, and 
 brought to a neutral port by a shipmaster whom he 
 
306 AMONG THE PINES. 
 
 implicitly trusts, has reached me since the previous 
 chapters were written. It covers, six pages of foolscap, 
 and is written in defiance of all grammatical and ortho- 
 graphical jDrinciples ; but as it conveys important intelli- 
 gence, in regard to some of the j^ersons mentioned m 
 this narrative, I will transcribe a portion of it. 
 
 It gave me the melancholy tidings of the death of 
 
 Colonel J . He had joined the Confederate anny, 
 
 and fell, bravely meeting a charge of the Massachusetts 
 troops, at Roanoke. 
 
 On receiving the news of his friend's death, Andy 
 
 rode over to the plantation, and found Madam P 
 
 plunged in the deepest grief. While he was there a 
 letter arrived from Charleston, with intelligence of the 
 dangerous illness of her son. This second blow crushed 
 her. For several days she was delirious, and her hfe 
 despaired of; but throughout the Avhole the noble corn- 
 cracker, neglecting every thing, remained beside her. 
 
 When she returned to herself, and had in a measure 
 recovered her strength, she learned that the Colonel had 
 left no will ; that she was still a slave ; and soon to be 
 sold, with the rest of the Colonel's personal property^ 
 according to law. 
 
 This is what Andy writes about the affair. I give the 
 letter as he wrote it, merely correcting the punctuation, 
 and enough of the spelling, to make it intelligible. 
 
 " W'en I hard thet th' Cunel hadent leff no wil, I was 
 hard put what ter dew ; but arter thinkin' on it over a 
 spell, I knowed shede har on it sumhow ; so I 'eluded to 
 
CONCLUSION. 307 
 
 tel liar miseff. She tuk on d d hard at fust, but arter 
 
 a bit, grew more cahii like, and then she sed it war God's 
 wil, an' she wudent komplane. Ye nows I've got a wife, 
 but wen the ma'am sed thet, she luk'd so like an angel, 
 
 thet d d eff I cud help puttin' my arms round har, 
 
 an' hugin' on har, till she a'moste screeched. Wal, 1 
 toled har. Id stan' by har eff evrithing went ter h— 1 — 
 
 an I wil, by . 
 
 "I made up mi minde to onst, what ter dew. It Avar 
 darned harde work tur bee 'way from hum jess then, but 
 I war in fur it ; soe I put ter Charleston, ter see th' 
 Cunel's 'oman. Wal, I seed har, an' I toled har how th' 
 ma'am felte, an' how mutch shede dun at makein' th' 
 Cunel's money— (she made nigh th' hul on it, 'case he 
 war alers keerles, an' tuk no 'count iiv things ; eff tadent 
 ben fur thet, hede made a wil,) an' I axed har ter see 
 thet the ma'am had free papers ter onst. An' whot der 
 
 ye 'spoze she sed ? Nuthin, by 'cept she dident 
 
 no nuthin' 'bout bisuiss, an' leffall uv sech things ter har 
 loryer. Wal, then I went ter him — he ar one on them 
 slick, ily, seceshun houn's, wiio'd sell thar soles fur a 
 kountterfit dollar — an' he toled me, th' 'ministratur had- 
 ent sot yit, an' he cudent dew nuthin til he hed. Ses I : 
 ' ye mean th' 'ooman's got ter gwo ter th' hi'est bider ?' 
 ' Yas,' he sed, ' the Cunel's got dets, an' the've got ter 
 bee pade, an' th' persoonel prop'ty muste bee sold ter 
 dew it.' Then I sed, 'twud bee sum time fore thet war 
 dun, an' the 'ooman's 'most ded an' uv no use now ; 
 ' what'll ye hire har tur me fur.' He sed a hun'red for 
 
308 AMONG THE PINES. 
 
 sicks months. I planked down the money ter onst, an' 
 put off. 
 
 " I war biUn' over, but it sumhow cum inter my hed 
 thet the Cunnel's 'ooman cudn't bee all stun ; so I gose 
 thar agin ; an' I toled har what the loryer sed, an' made a 
 reg'lar stump-'peal tew har bettar natur. I axed har 
 eff she'd leff the 'ooman .who'd made har husban's fortun, 
 who war the muther ov his chil'ren, who fur twenty 
 yar, hed nussed him in sickness, an' cheered him in 
 healtf ; ef shede let thet ^oonian^ bee auckyund off ter 
 th' hi'est bider. I axed al thet, an' what der ye tliink she 
 sed. Why jest this. ' / doant no nuthin' bout it. Mis- 
 ter Jones. Ye raily must talke ter mi loryer; them 
 maters I leaves 'tirely ter him.' Then, I sed, I 'spozed 
 the niggers war ter bee advertist. ' O, yas !' she sed, 
 
 (an' ye see, she know'd a d d site 'bout thet)^ ' all 
 
 on 'em muss be solde, 'case, ye knows, I never did luv 
 the kuntry, — 'sides Z cud'ent karry on the plantashun, 
 no how.' Then, sed I: 'the Orleans traders 'ill be 
 thar — an' she wimt sell fur but one use, fur she's han- 
 sum yit ; an' ma'am, ye wunt leff a 'ooman as white as 
 you is, who fur twenty yar, hes ben a tru an' fatheful 
 icife tar yer own ded husban,' (I shudn't hev put thet in, 
 
 but d d ef I cud help it,) ye wunt put har up on the 
 
 block, an' hev har struck down ter the hi'est bider, ter 
 bee made a d d on?' 
 
 " Wal, I s'pose she hadent forgot thet, fur more'n 
 twelve yar, the Cunnel hed luc^l t'other 'ooman, an' 
 onely liked har ; fur w'en I sed thet, har ize snapped 
 
CONCLUSION. 
 
 309 
 
 lil^e li— 1, an' she screetched eout thet she dident 'low 
 nosechwurds in har hous', an' ordurd me ter. leave. 
 Mi'tey sqeeniish thet, warn't it? bein' as shede ben fur 
 
 so mony yar the Gunnel's , an' th' tuther one his 
 
 raal wife. 
 
 " Wal, I did leav' ; but I left a piece of mi mind 
 a-hind. I toled har I'de buy that ar 'ooman ef she cost 
 all I war wuth and I had ter pawne my sole ter git the 
 money; an' I added, jess by way ov sweet'nin' the pill, 
 thet I ow'd all I hed ter har husband, an' dident furget 
 my debts ef she did her'n, an' ef his OAvn wife disgraced 
 
 him, I'd be d d ef Jwud. 
 
 " Wal, I've got th' ma'am an' har boy ter hum, an' 
 my 'ooman hes t^ik ter har a heep. I doant no w'en the 
 sale's ter cum off, but ye may bet hi' on my beem' thar ; 
 an' I'll buy har ef I hev ter go my hull pile on har, an' 
 borrer th' money fur ole Pomp. But he'll go cheap, 
 'case the Gunnel's deth nigh dun him up. It clean 
 killed Ante Lucey. She never held her hed up arter she 
 heerd ' Masser Da\y war dead, fur she sot har vary hfe 
 on him. Don't ye fele consarned 'bout the ma'am — I 
 knows ye sot hi' on har— 7'/^ buy har, shore. Thet 
 an' deth ar th' onely things thet I knows on, in this 
 wurld, jess now, that ar sartix." 
 
 Such is Andy's letter. Mis-spelled and profane though 
 it be, I would not alter a word or a syllable of it. It 
 deserves to be written in characters of gold, and hung 
 up in the sky, where it might be read by all the world. 
 And it is written in the sky— in the great record-book— 
 
310 AMONG THE PINES. 
 
 and it will be read when you and I, reader, meet the 
 assembled universe, to give account of what ice have 
 done and written. God grant that our record may show 
 some such deed as that ! 
 
 TIIE END. 
 
RARE BOOK 
 COLLECTION 
 
 THE LIBRARY OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF 
 
 NORTH CAROLINA 
 
 AT 
 
 CHAPEL HILL 
 
 Wilmer 
 490