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EX-EXPRESS El'GEXE.
“Purpureos spargam flores.’’
Lone empress, childless widow, whose sad heart
Knows its own bitterness—and hardly knows—
Death darting on thee with redoubled blows,
And soul-benumbing smart;
Alone between two memories of past hours;
Man has no word lor pangs like thine!—yet we
For child and sire take np the dirge, to thee
Bringing our tears for flowers.
For he to France gave wealth with peace, of yore,
And glory, till success and years unnerved
His soul, and from the wiser self he swerved;
And flattering friends, the sore
Which cankers single rule, and that first blot—
A crown of violence compass’d—work'd their will.
And Nemesis on the fatal frontier-hill
Changed in one hour his lot,
Empire for exile: and his head he bowed
With no unmanly grief: while party hate
Fanatic, o’er his final wreck elate.
And the foul city-crowds.
Spat forth the venom of its seething scum
On the crush'd, broken-hearted chieltain,—alt
He wrought for France forgotten in his fall!
France of the days to come.
Heedless; the hell-fire baptism, and the red
Ravin through all her streets; the rebel bands
Kindling their pile with suicidal hands,
And blood in frenzy shed.
I.and of light memories! enterprises light!
Success alone constrains thy pride to bow!
Ungrateful France! thine idols crowning now,
Now burning in thy spite!
O yet, this day, fair France! while she apart
The widow-mother sits in tearless woe.
Thy better self, thy nobler nature show.
Tiiy generous, ancient heart!
This hope was hers, this only hope ! and now !
ilast Itelezi, on Edutu's plain.
The wasted life-blood waits the winter’s rain,
Earth’s natural tears. But thou,
Marcellus of thy race, in youth hast fled.
Loyal to France and God, too young—too brave!
Whilst we—vain gift!—with violets crown tin
grave
Of the loved, honor'd dead.
E. T. Pali.kaYK.
(6
FORTY YEARS AGO.”
DRIFTING SANDS FROM THE MOUN
TAINS AND FOOT-HILLS OF
NORTHEAST GEORGIA.
A Brilliant Romance Basted upon Facta.
By G. J. N. WILSON.
CHAPTER, xvl
After a night’s rest in great feather beds with
coarse but snowy white and sweet-smelling
sheets aad coverlids of home manufacture, the
travelers were aroused at dawn by the crow
ing of cccks, the barking of dogs, the lowing of
Cows, the quacking of ducks, the shrill cries
of geese and peafowls,the squealing of pigs and
all the various barn yard noises that greet the
breaking day at a farm house so abundantly sup
plied with domestic animals as this of farmer
Itamsay's.
Jalius rose, dressed a-d throwing open the
window blind, looked out towards the sunrise.
There, against the reddening east stood the gi
gantic poplar, the central figure of the old man's
ghost story of the night before. The story had
made quite an impression a pun Julias as well
as upon the others who listened to it.
Was it all a figment of the old man’s ignorant
imagination ? Rut then others had seen it, as
they protested, with evident sincerity and earn
estness. What foundation conld there have
been upon which the fancy conld shape such
an appaiition as bad been bo rudely but graph
ically described ?
A whirring noise broke upon Julias’ medita
tions; something dark whizzed by between him
and the poplar tree and for an instant a thrill
ran though him as tLcough the flying object
might be the ghostly black horse and its rider,
but a clamor of shouts, cackling and barking
betrayed the aeronaut to be a black rooster, pur
sued by Kislum and the dog and destined to
be caught and fried for breakfast. Risluir,
bare headed and with his hair flying in tht>
wind, ran clapping his hands and ‘siccing’ his
pup, while the screaming chickens ran and flew
here and there and scattered in every direction,
and a pair of plump pullets, dangling from
Rislum a hands as be ran, filtered and shrieked
with all their might. Julius looked on amused
at the scene, and smiled to himself as the black
rooster struck off in a long trot across the field
with the panting Rislum following, alternately
encouraging and abusing the somewhat reluc
tant Towser.
Having arranged their morning toilet, the
guests came out into the sitting room and were
there welcomed by Hepsy and Dinipsy with a
quiet, majestic ease and cordiality that seemed
to have taken the place of their embarassment
the evening before.
They wore simple, brown cotton dresses fit
ting closely to their large, but rounded and
faultlessly symmetrical forms. |Their complexion
was a clear, rosy brunette deepening into car
mine in their lips, and their well shaped heads
were ornamented by an abundant mass of very
black rippling, glossy, live-lookiog tresses gath
ered in a loose knot at their back of the shapely
necks. Altogether their appearance was high
ly pleasing, for health, strength, modesty and
intelligence were seen in their faces and move
ments. Their general appearance was similar,
bat in some respects they differed materially.
The expression of Drnsilla’s face was cheer
ful and Blightly mischievous while thr.t of her
Bister's was thoughtful and somewhat sad. The
month of the latter was large though well shaped
and around the corners there lurked an expres
sion of determined will best undei stood by the
precise words she uttered; but her sister's mouth
was small, expressing the same firmness but
fathomable only as seen in her action—her
words sometimts playfully meaning one thing
when she said another. Drusilla’s, or Dimpsy’s
speech was quick, bold and uttered in a
tone somewhat musical. Hepsy selected her
words with more caution and uttered them in a
tone of such earnestness that the hearer was at
no loss to know what she meant, and as she was
always reasonable, she was generally obeyed.
The eye-brows of the former were delicately
small, spanning only the eyes; but those of the
latter were heavy, and nearly met in the middle.
Why two such flowers should grow in a garden
where the rest of the Ramsay s giew up like
weeds, though for some time trained by the plas
tic hand of Prirce R ville, was a m> stery. Two
things however, were certain. As seen by the
travelers this lovely summer's morning, they
were pleasing companions and their personal
appearance was commanding and handsome.
Breakfast was announced at an early hour,and
owing perhaps, to the absence ot Risluin and
the fortunate neglect on the part of Mrs. Ram
say to prepare little cakes tor the special bene
fit of Miss Grace and Julius, everything indi
cated a pleasant repast, the tare being about the
nme as at supper with the addition of several
diahea of fowl prepared in varioue ways, all rich
and s ivory. Contrary to all expectation, Ram
say quit eating first, and pushing back his plate,
quietly observed:
‘You'uds keep on eatin’ tell you’ve got
enough- I took iu si much las’ night, 1 ain’t a
hungry now. Won’er what makes Rislnm stay
so—reckon he can't fin* the eteera he wants—
them big, fat fellers ! Hew bent on takin* you
uns home in the biggest way he can git up.
He’ll be here directly though—don’t be oneasy.’
Mr, Montgomery here informed his host of
the decision of the party to proceed as far as the
home of Prince Reville, and asked the old gen
tleman if the change would make any difference
with his son.
‘Shucks ! no 1 replied Ramsay. ‘Jest so he
can git to haul yoa'uns about he don’t care a
thrip. It’s nater for him to git better inter-
dneed to yer darter thar; an’ aside all that, him
an’ the young teacher's monsus frien’ly—he
wants to go thar now.'
Breakfast over, every one exoept Rislum, was
ready to Btart, That worthy was still absent,
and while waiting for him, Ramsay took a s«.at
on the ground beneath a large shade tree, and
ordering chairs for others who might wish to
join him he signified his readiness for a morn
ing's chat.
‘I do despise,’ said he, ’to talk in the datk
like I had to do las’ night Ef it had a been
day time I would a said more, an’ had a argy-
ment with you. So set down here an’ less talk
it all over while Rislum is aoomin’.’
Mr. Montgomery and Julius took seats near
the old gentleman; but not wishing to recur to
the topics discussed during the previous night,
Mr. Montgomery opened the conversation by
saying—
‘While waiting for your Bon, would you be so
kind as to tell me why you gave him sucu an
uncommon name. 1 do not know that I ever
heard any one called Rislum before.’
‘Shucks! exclaimed Ramsay with evident
surprise. *We only oall nim Rislum for short.
His whole name is Jerryrislum, an’ now I rtok
en you kuow whar 1 got the name. ’
‘1 cannot say,' said the other, ’that I do. Ris
lum with the Jerry is as uncommon to me as
Rislum without the Jerry.
‘Jest as I spected,' said Ramsay with some
impatience. ‘Ef you’d hear good preachin' out
er your Bible more, you'd a hearn the name
many a time. Jerry-rislum’s a soripter name,
an’ its in the by me book too. Jerry-rislum is
he the Lord wanted to gather nnder his wings
like a hen gathers her chickens. All my chil
dren except two had scripter names, Thar’s
Dimps aint got no Scripter name, but her ole
tool uncle Tube named ner when she was a ba
by. He called herDrusiller, and I despised the
siller part of it so that me an’ Peggy yander
turned it to Dimpsey, ’kase she had sich a purty
little dimple in her little fat chin. Bat it’s not
thar now—she's out-grow’d it.’
‘To convince you,’ said Montgomery, ‘that 1
have a little knowledge of the Bible myself, let
me inform you that you are mistaken. Drusil-
la, the correct way of pronouncing the name, is
used in the Scriptures, and may be found in the
‘24th Chapter of the Acts of Apostles.'
When the Bible was hunted up and the name
shown to him, Ramsay manifested much joy,
and calling his wile, he asked her how it came
that she had never seen the word before. ‘For,,
added be, ‘you read all them Actions ot the
‘Postleg without knowin’ thar was a Drusiller
emongst ’em. •
’Lordy ! wath she a ‘Pothle?' asked the good
mother in surprise.
‘in course she was,' answered the gratified
father, ‘an’ that aint all. Our darter shan’t be
called Dimpsy another time. The dimple's
gone of£*eu her ohin anyhow, an’ the Dimpsey
part may go ’long with it. Ole ooman, do you
hear ?• J
•Yeth.thir, ‘ answered Mrs. Ramsay, and back
she burned to the kitchen, evidently gratified
at the idea of having a daughter named in hon
or of one of the Apostles,
‘Well,’said Ramsay, after a pause. ‘Thar's
Hepsy y it what aint got a Scripter name, though
she was named after the ole meetin ‘-house whar
me an’ Peggy went to hear preachin’ when we
was boys together—but shucks ! that's wrong,
tor Peggy was a gearl then. Anyhow, Hepsy‘s
name is next to a Scripter one; lor the meetin’
house was called Hepziber, an’to cut it short
we named the child Hepsy. Don't you think it
was a good idy ?'
‘I have no serious objection to the change,’
said Mr. Montgomery; but allow me to say that
you are again mistaken. Hepsibah, which is
the true orthography of the word, is also a Bi
ble name, and a very important one. The word
means "my delight,” and was the name ot king
Manasseh's mother The prophet Isaiah also
gave this appellation to the church militant,
and the land of its establishment he called Beu
lah.'
When this was shown Mr. Ramsay in Isaiah
his astonishment knew no bounds, and he at
once changed his mind in regard to Montgom
ery’s supposed ignorance. Again calling his
wife, that good woman once more made her ap
pearance beneath the wide-spreading tree.
’Look er here, ole ooman,* said her husband,
thar's more Scripter emongst us than we thunk
thar was, an' this here man aint half sich a fool
about the Bible as we took him to be las’ night.
Dimsey’s and Hepsy*s—no: Drusiller‘s an*
Hephziber’s names is both in the Bible; an’
now ef they'll quit thar stuck-up ways I’ll like
’em like I do Mazin Grace an* Rislum.’
The well-known ’whoa! gee! haw!’ of Rislum,
or us he might now be called Jerusalem, was
heard in the distauce. Ramsay arose to his feet
and Btood gazing till the young man appeared
at the gate with two of as fine oxen as were like
ly to be seen in the whole of Georgia. The la
ther went at once to meot his son and to give
him any assistance he might need, and perhaps
for the further purpose of informing him of the
charge made in regard to tue day’s journey. *-
This gave Mrs. Montgomery an opportunity to
join her husband beneath the tree, which she
at once did, informing him that Miss Brasilia
had recently received a letter from Prince Re-
viile, stating that he was then on a western tour,
and would not return home until the close of
the summer. The party was again disappoint
ed, but not enough so to oause any material
change in their feelings. Ramsay soon re
turned, and Julias informed him ,of lteville’s
absence from home, and concluded by saying—
'The Pates are against us, at least so far as a
continuation of this journey is concerned; and
1 now feel convinced that it is best for us to re
turn home at once.’
Drat the Pates !—what have they got to do
with us?’ said Ramsay. ’Has that tarnation
Bill Pate been sneakin' around here, kase
he’s afeered you'll out him outen M.zin Grace.
Whar is the soamp ?'
*We have not seen any of the Fate family,
explained Julias. ‘I alluded to the various cir
cumstances that make it necessary lor us to
abandon our journey, at least for the present.
What now seem to be misfortunes, may yet
prove to be blessings in disguised.
While Rislum was eating a hasty breakfast
his father and Cupid yoked the oxen, and greas
ed the wagon selected for use. Mrs. Ramsay
brought a bountiful supply of her best provis
ions for refreshment on the way, and the elder
sisters provided chairs over which fleecy home
made blankets were spread; and on those de
signed for Nelly and her mother, they put two
bunches oi flowers tastefully arranged.
Not to be outdone by her Biste rS| Miss Gra®*
alBO itied up a grea t boquet of marigolds an d
bachelor buttons with a sun flower in the cen*
U'»
tre which she, with a sinuometp^ • curtsey ten
dered to Julius. onan
Invitations tor mutuaVc is .
I between the two
rned, and promi-
ery produced a
pr his bill. Mr.
receive anything
ses made. Then Mr. Mqmi
well-filled purse, and asi/°
Ramsay utterly refusech *°
whatever, asking— 'tjj" _
‘Ef me an’ my folkes wwtCiil&e unfortinit an’
come to yonr house, hoW'V-tilh would you
charge me?’
‘Not a cent,' replied Mr jiroegh » i®ry.
‘Then put up yer moneys n, the other a
little angrily, ‘an’ come bty*? ,*- r but don t ax
me what I charge any monft' u»-
Mr. Montgomery then his gratitude
in warm terms, while his :i j(Vfelly at part
ing with the girls, gave tbO jee books, mag
azines and other little eonv', v& that were ac
cepted in the friendly spirit*-' ' jhich they were
offered. Rislum having fc'fcsj^ntiy refused
to allow Cupid to handle IqJSj team, took the
driver’s Beat, and cracking iiut long whip made
by twisting the bark of a hy^iy pole, he gave
his oxen the word of co^-Vjf^. ’ ^rtantly a
mighty heave was given—tttbr' iver’s ‘wo! gee !
haw !’ was answered by the cs.*>y ling of big wheels
and the party realized tha^hoy were slowly
but surely wending their w*v homeward, * n an
ox wagon. ?<js
With a mode of conveyance, slow, there was
a long day’s journey befored^ye party; but the
weather promised to be favorable, and on reach
ing a level road, Rislnm agreeably surprised his
charge by cracking his whip in lively style and
starting his oxen off at a brisk trot that from
tkeir make and movements, seemed likely to be
maiituined for any required distance.
Rislum, though cbeeriul, was not inclined to
be very talkative, contenting himself with an
occasional glance at Nelly which saemed to
challenge her to open a conversation with him.
Julius, having several times failed to enlist bis
attention, and feeling a desire to show him a
proper degree of respect, wa-: about to take a
seat by him, when the latter suddenly jumped
to the ground, aDd began to peep through the
bushes in sack a way as to e' ite the curiosity
ot all. ’A .
‘What,’asked Mr.Montgomery;}Aas so suddenly
attracted your attention ?’
•I think I seed Banner dodgin through the
bu’-hes,’ replied the young man, telling his ox
en to halt, which they did at once.
‘What Hannah ?’ asked Julias.
’Mam’s house nigger, what you seed in the
kitchin to home,’ answered the driver, striding
rapidly through the woods.
It was now discovered that Cupid was no
where to be seen. When called, he did not an-
wer. This created suspicious which, tliougu
not well defined, were thought worthy of some
investigation.
While talking about the occurrence, Dotty,
the little servant girl, n aiifested some knowl
edge of the aff tir. When interrogated she said,
in substance, that during the previous night
she had heard Cupid tell Hannah that he loved
her well enough to eat her up, and that if she
would wait until he could make the necessary
arrangements, he would come hack and marry
ner liae a gentleman. To this it seems Hannah
would not agree, preferring to run away and
foil >w her lover, and, without for a moment
stopping to consider the oonsequences, take the
chances of being left in the woods.
‘A genuine love-ssrape,’ said Jalins. ‘So our
journey is to end iu romance after all I am not
apprehensive though that we will lose Cupid.
He knows too well who his best friends are.’
Of this the Montgomeries also felt convinced,
and consequently decided to continue the jour
ney at once. Having made djsAyeriAs sufficient
to satisfy himself that he"' , 0rmistaken,
Rislum returned, and to Gy’s propo
sition to proceed without he readily
agreed, saying: "
‘Efyouuns don’t want me to, i"wouldn’t go
back tf all the niggers in Georgy, was to toiler
us.’
With a conveyance now found to be quite
suitable for their purposes, and managed by
one so entirely devoted to their service,
the travelers met with no further difficulties,
and safely reached home a few hours after night
fall.
At a late hour of the night Cupid made bis
appearance, and arousing his master from sleep,
he informed him of the causes of his delay add
ing that by promising Hannah to visit her again
in a few weeks, he had prevailed ou her to go
back to her master.
‘Im not agwine tur disrespect you, Mass.
John, • continued Cupid. ‘When I wants tur do
my norshuns, I cons’antly axis .your commission.
So let me go back putty soon, sail, to see Han-
uer, sab; an ’den 1 wants you, Mass’r John, tur
buy her for—fer—my wife, sail !’
Mr. Montgomery informed Cupid that he
would consider the matter at some more favor
able time, and as the carriage was to be sent lor
very soon, be would then learn the character of
the girl, and if found good, and her master was
willing to part with her on reasonable terms, he
would in all probability buy her, as Cupid had
all bis life been faithful and true.
Among those most highly gratified at the early
return of the adventurers, were Mrs. Lamon
and Olura Sundown, who had agreed to remain
at Montgomery Hall and superintend domestic
affairs during the absence of the family.
When morning came Jerusalem Ramsay, at
Mr. Montgomery’s earnest request, consented to
remain until the following day. Apart from the
attractions created by the fair daughter’s pres
ence, Mr. Montgomery’s farm, which waA ex
tensive and in a high state of cultivation, seemed
to interest him deeply. Having been told ot
Cupid's return and the request he bad pref r:ed,
Rislum gave it as his opinion that Hannah
could be bought i n fair terms. Before the sun
went down an agreement bad been made for Ju
lius to go and see her master on the following
day, purchase her if he could, and if successful,
bring her back with him.
Furnished with two splendid horses, and one
thousand dollars with which to purchase the
love stricken Hannah, Julius Latrain left home
at an early hour of the next morning on his hu
mane mission. Now Joe Harper lived but a lit
tle distance from the road, and having one
horse to lead and very naturally feeling lonely,
it occurred to Julius that he would like to have
Joe’s assistance in his strange effort to buy a
wife for a negro. So turning aside to see his
rough, but highly valued friend, who was liv
ing with his father, Julius soon arrived at Mr.
Harper’s residence, an old, bat spacious log
house, covered with the moss of many years,
and where several generations of the family had
lived, some, like the present:f)roprietor, honor-
w le ’ “‘v* 19 ? 8 ’ like Joe. reckbe^ and nnheeding.
When Julius had explainedejne object of his
visit, Joe declared he was in for it, and hastily
making the few preparations necessary, they
were soon on their way, Joe riding the horse
that had been led by his friend. Had he not
felt fully convinced that there was not room
enough in Joe Harper’s heart, however capa
cious, for any one besides Nelly Montgomery,
Jalius would have felt some scruples about in
troducing such a man to the two charming sis
ters they were soon to meet, thinking, as he
did, that their commanding personal appear
ance, beauty and intelligence oould not fail to
win his admiration.
When at noon they stopped for dinner, Julius
noticed an unusual degree of sadness on Joe's
face, and very naturally asked him the cause of
such a sudden change.
‘Thetact is,’ replied Joe, ‘tbereare two.things
that bother me. There is a bottle of whiskey
in my pocket which I forgot to take out when I
left home. I want a dram the very worst kind;
but I’ve sworn not to take a drink in your pres
ence, and now 1 swear it again/
Having said this, Joe thought a moment, and
then taking the bottle from his pocket, threw it
far away into the woods.
‘This,’said Jalius, ‘is a high comp’iment to
me, and I feel grateful for it; but the signifi
cance of your action does not stop here. It
shows that there is somewhere in yonr nature
a nobility that should never be made ignoble
throngh the agency of liquor. I know that nab-
itual drinkers excuse themselves by saying that
they cannot abstain from it after a taste has been
formed. This is a mistake, and a very sad one.
Doubtless it is bard to do, but God requires
nothing ol man that he is unable to perform;
and the fragments of yonr bottle testify to yonr
self-control. But friend Joe, you have not told
me the cause of your other trouble!’
Look just yonder and you will see the cause,’
said Joe, pointing to a bed of white sand on the
side of the road.
Then taking Julius to the spot indicated, he
pointed to a delicate track, saying:—
‘That is Nelly Montgomery’s track—I would
have known it in Heaven—the only place fit
for it to be made. If I were by myself, I would
kneel down and kiss it
How came it here?
As you know, we traveled this road going home
day before yesterday. Nelly and her mother
becoming weary of their long ride on the ox-
wagon, I distinctly remember, walked along
this part of the road for exercise, and to avoid
the dust passed over that bed of sand.’
Before night i.amsay's house was reached,
the family being much surprised to see Jalius
return so early, but every possible effort was
made to show that both he and bis friend were
welcome. Though not so tedious aad eventful
as bis own introductirn, Julius had some diffi
culty in getting Miss Grace and her parents to
understand that Mr. Harper was his intimate
friend, thinking, as was afterwards learned,
that he looked too rough and dangerous to be
the companion of one so refined as Jalius.—
Had they known the line drawn by Joe between
Grace and her sisters, they would have been
convinced tbat Iu taste was, in many rtspects,
very good; but it whs hard for anyone to under
stand the strange mixture in this singular man.
When Julius informed Ramsay of the real ob
ject of Lis hasty visit, the old man shook his
nead, saying in substance tbat Hannah had so
many go id qualities that he could not affjrd to
part with her. Seeming to think that Mr.
Montgomery wanted the girl because of her
good character, Jalius went on to inform him
of the true cause, at which the old man laughed
heartily, for Hannan had promptly returned,
and by some meaDs, succeeded in keeping her
elopement a secret
Though without much hope of success, when
morning came, Julius and Joe renewed their ef-
foits, and fiually succeeded in obtaining the
consent of all the family to take the dusky dam
sel home with them. The girl was then called,
and being informed of the change of masters
and the cause of it, she fell alternately to cry
ing an 1 iaugning in mingled joy at the pros
pect ot being united to her lover, and grief at
leaving the triends to whom she was somnch
attached.
’For,’ said she, ’they has always treated me
as they treat one another, and I hate to leave
them. Still, I want bad to go with you—won
der if I ever will ba let to come back to see my
friends and kin folks?'
Julias feit authorized to tell her that she
would be permitted to return two or three times
every year. This gave hef great relief, and as
tue carriage was already whiting, she hastened
to pack her clothes. When all was ready, the
parting scene between this servant girl and her
life-long friends was truly affecting, ail, both
white and blask weeping like children. Buf
time sped on and HaDnth was borne away in a
condition almost helpless.
‘Had I known all this,’said Jalius to Joe as
they rode away, ‘I do not think that I would
have undertaken this job. I am unable to de
cide whether we are right or wrong. However,
as we all agreed, we must be right.’
•Ye6,’ replied Joe, thoughtfully. ‘Aint there
somewhere in the bible an account of some fel
lows who went to a distant country to get a wife
for one of their friends?’
‘O yes!’ replied tte other smiling. ‘There is
the story of Isaac and Rsnekan. Abraham sent
his servant on a weary journey to hunt up a
wife for Isaac.'
Just at Dight the carriage arrived home, and
Cupid, who had not been informed of the real
cause of young Latrain’s absence, hastened as
was his custom, to take charge of the horses*
Seeing Hannah, he stood still in utter astonish
ment. When all was explained, he seemed to
doubt bis senses, and with motions timilar to
thosi of a suspicious j ly bird, assisted Hannbh
down the carriage steps. Joe said be did not
know whether she blushed or not, bnt it was the
happiest meeting he had ever seen.
Soon all Montgomery's servants collected
around the stranger, bidding her welcome, and
telling her she bad ‘rived at a monsus good
pace.‘ When informed of the actnal state ot
affairs, a general shout arose that did not die
away until lost in the refrain ot a ‘corn song,’
peculiar to this race. A burly negro man called
Nick, mounted the woodpile, and in tones deep
and sonorous, gave out:
•Not gwine a-way to-morrow!
O brnders don’t you hear me!’
Then in long drawn accen’s, came the u'r tin :
‘Ho! )al-a ho!
Stay a lit-tle lon-ger!
Ho! lal-a ho!
Then, without varying his words, only to
change‘brudders’to mnss’r* and ‘missus,’ and
names of other particular friends, the same re
sponse as before went np in londer and louder
acclaim until some sonl, becoming too happy to
be content with singing only, goes to some va
cant spot, and throwing down his wool hat, be
gins a series of evolutions with his hands and
one foot. Having thus found the beat of time
wauted, he begins to sing:
‘Jnber dis and Juber dat,
Jnber kill’d de yaller oat,
Off an’ on de way we go
Den come along an’ do jess so.’
Then marking the time by pattiDg both hands
on his knees with snrprising accuracy, others
flock around him, and drumming on the ground
with their heels or toes as the prelnde to what
is to follow, they strike off the next moment in
to a wild dance which they execute with aston
ishing agility.
When this demonstration of spontaneous joy
was over, their master informed them that as
they had been tinging about ‘to-morrow’ be
would set apart the next day as a day of .jubilee
on which no work was to be done, except the
usual duties of oaring for the stock, that in the
evening Cupid and Hannah would be married,
that they might invite their particular friends
to be present, and that be would furnish a wed
ding sapper sufficient for all. Thinking tbat
their kind master wonld not like to be disturb
ed any more on that occasion, they answered
him with broad g'ins, and quietly going to their
quarters, nothing more was heard from them
that night
Julias Ldrain now informed Mr, Montgom
ery of Hannah’s reputed go id name, and that
she had been bought for eight hundred dol’ars,
a sum much less thau expected. Counting the
remaining two hundred still in his possession,
be placed the sum on Montgomery's knee, ask
ing him to count it also. ThiB he refused to do
in a very decided manner, saying:
'Indeed, I will not take it Th* money ia
yours. And while ft is poor pay for the services
rendered in our recant misfortunes, take it as
an earnest intention to do more.’
The earnest manner of his benefactor showed
Julius that it would not be prudent to refuse
the gift
The day of the negroes’jubilee came, and a
lovely one it was. It was Saturday; and though
always full of inspiring hope for the coming
morrow, it was particularly so on this occasion.
Jerusalem Ramsay, who hai lingered around
the charming scene, was preparing to retnrn
home. Having already remained longer than
expected, he undertook t> play a part that
many had tried before - that of appearing to be
in a harry, bnt doing nothing to justify the ap-
appearanoe. He certainly desired to stay till
after the wedding, bnt tor some reason could
not do so,he bad'made himthe laughing stock for
the negroes; and while be had Hens* sufficient
to discover his failure, he dt t not have enough
to know the eanse of it He had been treated
with all the respect and kindness possible; but
having played a role even more awkward than
that seen at home, ne would, but tor his gener
ous friends and kindness of heart, have made
himself an unpleasant guest. When Mr. Mont
gomery found that be could not by any means
in his power, induce this eccentric youcg man
to receive pay for the services rendered, he ask
ed him if he would accept of a present. After
some hesitation he said that he would. Mont
gomery then gave him a good silver watoh with
the initials J. M. cut on the inside of the oase-
for which he seemed very thankful; but strange
to sty he did no: know its use. Alter an effort
to explain its workings had been made, Jerusa*
iem Ramsay, having promised to return at some
future time, took leave of all the family, and
with evident reluctance began his j carney home
ward.
The day passes on and evening comes. The
sun is just ready to take his last look over the
western hills, and men and women in single
file are seen approaching along the pathways
that leud through the fields. Oae, walking
alone, and far m advance of the others, attracts
particular attention. Who is he? Presently a
commotion is seen among the negroes collected
around the cabin in which Capid sits, stately,
proud, erect. After peeping around the corn
ers they open and form a lane, all facing inward.
The children stand gazing, some with fingers
in their months, and others with hands clasped
over their heads. Boys and girls maintain s:ifi
positions, and knowingly grinning at each oth
er, they softly whisper: ’He’s a cornin’.’ The
men and women, standing like statnes ent from
Egyptian ebony, punch the others in the sides
saying:
•Yes, dat’s him!
Presently the lane opens wider, and up the
spring path comes the object of anxious expec
tation. He wears a swallow-tailed coat of an
cient look, and so narrow across the shoulders
that the waist becomes a part of the collar and
compels him to carry bis arms akimbo. His
breeches of a dingy yellow color, are worn so
high that they act as a sort of stay to keep his
extended arms in position, and draw the legs so
far beyond the reach of his stockings that they
have become discouraged, and lie rolled over
his shoes. His sharp, hatchet-face projects from
the points of his huge shirt collar, which stands
sufficiently high to be soiled by his ears. His
hat—bnt look! Once more the lane is made
wider by spasmodic backward steps—he enters
between the rows of ebon statues, and walking
with heels thrown out and toes throwa m, he
disappears in Cupid’s cabin. Who is he? ‘Ua-
cle Jake,’ the preaoher—the officiating priest of
> tue evefiitig.
Presently three or four more notables appear.
They are from the neighboring plantations, and
in red flannel cases carry fiddles on their backs.
They have come
‘With fiddle strung and bow drawn tight,
To give the dance good appetite.'
Next comes in baste a little girl to know if ‘de
white folks an’ Hannah am ready.’ Being told
they are, she flies away to bear the news. Cupid
emerges from bis cabin, revealing his great
white teeth by a broad grin which seems to ex
tend his mouth from ear to ear. He walks in
the direction of his master’s door, and strikes
his feet against the ground so heavily that the
goslins and little docks spread their featherless
wings and scamper away to keep from being
crashed beneath them. Hannah, followed by
Mrs. Montgomery and aunt Penny, steps to tne
door. Though black as jet, her features are reg
ular, and her form even elegant. Having been
dressed for the occasion by her mistress, she
appeared in strange contrast with some of her
dusky sisters who have come from a distance to
see the stranger whom they have heard came
from ‘way down South whar de corn stalks blos
soms, an’ de sugar cane grows,’ Meeting her at
the little gate in front ot the door,Cupid conducts
his betrothed to a church near by. Being fol
lowed by those present, both white and black,
all witnesses are on band except one. Where is
he? Yonder he comes, the veritable ‘Uncle
Jake’ who has on purpose remained behind to
show his dignity of course. He enters the
house with a sort of shuffie made necessary by
the extra size of his shoes whioh if lifte . high
wonld tall off his feet. He sea’s himself for a
moment, looks aronnd to see if all are behaving
themselves, and then, giving his coat a pull at
the waist, and his pants a jerk at the legs he
rises to his feet.
‘Yon, Cupid, dar, an’ de 'ooman widge you,
rise up,’ he says in tones of authority.
‘Dar, dat do,' he continues, as Capid and
Hannah rise.
'Cupid.dar, doe3 yon lub de ooman widge your’
•Yas sir,’ answered Capid.
•Hannah dar, yon labs Capid too, does yon?'
‘I do,’ answers Hannah, timidly.
’Den jine your hans jess so,’ says uncle Jake,
locking his own fingers for an example.
‘Now hole dat way tell I make von man an’
wife ’cordin’ to de Gospii,’ continues the priest,
taking a long step forward to see that his order
is properly executed. Being satisfied all is
right, he procceeds.
‘Dare now, Cupid, does you promess ’fore me
an’ God-ul-mighty dat you’ll tarnally lub Han
na all your born days, an' dat yon’ll lub no ud
der voman?'
•Yes sir,’ replies Capid solemnl;
•Den Hanna, will you do dat way too ?'
•I will,’ she answers with a smile showing her
small white teeth.
‘Den you am boff man an’ wife 'cordin' to de
Gospii- Aint dey, mass’r John ? says ho, turn
ing to Montgomery for a oorfirmation of his im
portant announcement.
Mass'r John smiles and nods his head. The
bride and groom receive the congratulations of
their friends—the ceremony is over—the crowd
disperses.
Soon, supper ia announced. None was ever
enjoyed more—none ever more highly appre
ciated. By-and-by the feast is over, and the
negroes repair to their various cabins. Listen !
The thum of violin strings and the squeak of
h< avy drawn bows, indicate the programme of
the night. The whirling dance begins and a!l
unconsciously, runs near midnight Half-sup-
pn ssed voices go round and round. They whis
per, Snday c no*-!’ The strings are let down
—th fid lies find hiding places in their wood
cases— • jub.lee is over !
Such w-s si.-very ns finnd upon the foot-hills
of Georgia iu tue na;.» of nnte bellum. When suf
fering bis ern l tortures. Uncle Tom,’ around
whose doirs so uiueu blood has sinoe flewed,
found no ’Cabin there.
[TO BE CONTINUED]