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LI’L’ MISTIS’ SWEETHEART
* * J* STOW OF SOUTHERN LIFE BEFORE THE WJ*R * *
CONTINUED FROM FIRST PAGE
ole mars ter got 'nut stable room fur Mis
ter Washin’ton’s cav’ry.’
"Gran’pappy sed, ‘I elar fo* de Lawd,
Marthy, I’m sorry you tole me dat news.
I sho wish ole marster’d 'sen’ me ter Mars
Howell’s tell dls hear weddin’ wus over,
case hit’s dun gin me er feelin' like I
wants ter knock sum body In de hed.’
“Den she sed, ‘You stark crazy, Abe. I
sho beleef An’ Nancy Lou dun put sum
cunjun’in sperrlt in you. I seed her
sweepln’ de yard In de moon lite es I
cum crost frum de big hous’. Does yer
hurt enny whars?’
"Uncle Abe could not have been eun-
jured. Mammy, you know there is no
such thing.”
"Cose he wusn’t honey, he jes' hed er
hurtln’ In de hart ’bout Miss Ma’y Willis,
oaze you knows de niggers In our fam’ly
ain’t never seed nobody good ’nuf ter
mar'y our fokes—dat’s all whut’a ric mat
ter wld him. But I hear m’ gran'mammy
say dey talk plum tell dny llte ’sputln
’bout Col’nl Noy.”
"Yes, that’s just It. You and grandad
are exactly like old Uncle Abe abusing
Mr. Noy Instead of thinking about having
a grand wedding.”
"Lawd, honey, we all ain’t never seed
no weddin’ dese days. M* gran’mammy
say de guestes cum en staid er week ,fo
de weddin’, den dey went over ter Col’nl
Noy’s en staid er week over dar fur de
infar, en Miss Ma’y "Willis hed cr fus
day’s dress, en er sec’on day’s dress plum
up ter de eend er de week. Oh. I tell
yer hit wus white fokes doin’s sho nuf.
"That’s true; but I fail to see any
thing mean about Colonel Noy.
"That’s oaze yer don’t know nuthln
tall ’bout him—his part jes’ cornin' now’.
Miss Ma’y Willis en him hed bln mar’ied
'zactly ten years when m’ gran’pappy
tuck en runned ’way, en ’twus fo daj s
fo dey missed him—den ole Marster tole
em ter go hunt Abe, den gran'mammy
cum runnin’ in an say, ‘Marster! Marster!
pleas’ stop de men frum huntln Abe.
Marster. fur de Lawd's sake doan let um
track Abe! Abe ain't runn’d way fur
long—I know’s whar he’s at, fur oh!
Marster. I’m de kase uv it all.’
"Marster say, ’Marthy, Is you parted
comp'ny wld yo senses? Git up often de
floo, en talk like er sens’ble ooman.' En
she say, ‘I can't speak nuthln 'tall, mars
ter—not tell yer stops de men. Run.
marster, fur de Lawd’s sake ’fo hit’s
too late.’ Marster say, he sho ’speot
Marthy reddy fur de sylum, but he take
en calls Henry en tells him ter tell de
men ter wait tell he tells em ter go, den
he says, ’Talk quick. Marthy.’
"Gran'mammy sed, ‘Marster! Lawdy, I
dunno how ter tell yer. An’ Nancy Lou
wus sweepin de yard de las’ full moon,
en she cum en circle twict rite up ter
m’ doo, den she ’gun circlin’ de third
time, en fotched up ’ginst my doo, en
fell stark en stiff befo’ hit; I wus skeered
putty nigh ter death, but I seed she hed
dun fell ded en I wus bleeged ter go
try en ten’ ter her, en jes es I stoops
down ter her she grabs me 'roun de
neck an 'gins ter moan;
" ’Ten years ter nite sence de weddin’
bells runged,
Ten years ter nite sence de hart strings
broke,
Ten years ter nitfe sence de death bells
struck.'
*
THREE
"I wus so skeered dat I mos’ fell dead.en
T jes’ hed bref ’nuf ter call Abe fur God’s
sake ter cum. en jes' es Abe got dar she
sed hit all ovi-r ’gin, tell she hed dun
sed hit over three times, en ’fo I knows
whut I says I hed dun scream out ter
Abe fur God’s sake ter go jes' es fas' es
he kin en not ter stop tell he got plum
ter young mistis. En dat’s whar Abe is
now. marster. God knows An’ Nancy
Lu dun skeered all de senses outen me—
but you knows, marster, young mistis is
all de chile I got in de worl’, en 1 jes’
can’t help bein’ foolish 'bout her.
“Den marster say, ‘Marthy, T'm
’sprised dat you’ll let er dotin' ole nigger
like Nancy Lu en her tricks ’feet you so
—I ain't gwlne ter hunt fur Abe, but I'm
sho gwlne ter git atter him fur ’sultin
Col'nl Noy by spying on him—dat wus
er shame fur er trusted sarvant ter do
dat, Jes’ caze er ha’f crazy ole ooman
talk dat foolishnes.’
"Den she sed, ‘Yes, marster. dat’s tie
trufe, but de las time young mistis
wus here her face wus so thin en her
sperrlt so broke dat I mos’ cried m’se’f
sick.’
"He sed, ‘You know, Marthy, Ma’ys’
youngis chile’s sickly, en she keep so
skeered ‘bout him all de time dat 111#
keeps her lookin poo’lv.'
"She say, ‘Yes, marster, I knows she sed
dat, but I ain’t never hed no satisfyin’
in m’ hart sence she lef.’
"Den he tole her ter go long, dat wus
foolishnes, en ter sen' Abe ter him de
minute he cum, en fo de wurds got outen
his mouf hear cum Abe, en jes' e? he
open his mouf ter talk he fell flat on de
lloo. Den m‘ gran'mammy holler, ’Oh,
Lawdy. marster! Abe dun ded! O Abe.
fur God's sake don't die! Marster he run
en got de brandy, en gran'mammy sed.
‘Open yo mouf, Abe, don’t yer see mars-
ter's holdin de brandy fur you hisse’f?
—open vo mouf—oh, marster! I 'speck
Abe dun starv’d ter death, hidin’ out ter
keep Col’nl Noy frum ketcliln him. Dat’s
rite, drink a little mo, Abe—jes’ a lit'le
mo.’
"Den gran’pappy sed, ‘Go off, Marthy,
J'm all rite now.’
"Den gran’mammy shout, ’Bless de
Lawd!'
"Den ole marster tole gran'pappy he
can’t talk none tell he drink some milk.
Atter he hed dun drink de milk, Marster
sed, ‘Now, I ‘speck you kin tell me how
cum yer ter run ’way?’
"Gran'pappy sed, ‘Marster, I ’speck
Marthy dun tole yer ’bout An' Nancy Lu.
en how cum mo ter go. I stole ole Cotton
Seed outen de stable en wint fas as de
win', en I got dar twlxt midnite en day.
er Chuesday. I tied Cotton-Seed down
In de holler, en I crawled up ter de nig
ger quarters, ter cross-eyed Bill’s cabin,
en Bill he axed me ‘Whut’s de matter?'
en I tells him whut An’ Nancy Lu sed.
en Bill sed An’ Nancy Lu dun tole de
God’s trufe! En I take en grab him
by de throat, en ax him whut he mean?
He say he can’t tell nuthin lessen I turns
him loose, den I turns him loose, en tells
him, of he don’t talk quick, I’m gwine
ter choke de href out’en him—en he say.
‘Col’nl Noy’s mad caze young mistis
take en pray all de time, dat he sen ter
Lunden fur velvets, en silks, en young
mistis won’t wear nuthin’ ’tall ’ceptin’
clo es whut ain t got no trimmin on em.
en he's mad wid her caze she won’t wear
de dimonts, er jew’ly ’tall, en jes’ pray
all de time, en ev’y time de ketch her
prayin’ he take en bet her; but he ain’t
never beat her ’fo nobody ’ceptin’ Randy
(Randy’s dat lite yaller gal dat he keeps
'bout him all de time)—ev’y time he go
travelln he ’bleeged ter take Randy—
Randy hates him, too, en she luv youn~
mistis. One day young mistis tuck de
chilluns, en wlnt In er lit’le room enjlnin
on ter hern, en wus hevln prayer wld
em, whin hear cum de col'nl—en tole her
ter op'n de doo, en she take en op’n it,
en he say, ‘What yer lock yose’f in fur?
You thort I wus dun goned 'way, but I
dun kotched yer, en I’m gwine fix you.
so you’ll hev nuf uv prayin.’ Den he
tuck er cow hide, en beat her, en de
ehlllun, too. tell de blood wus mos’ cum.
en young mistis ain’t never sed er wurd
tell he ’menced ter hlttln’ on de chil
luns—den she rlz up en sed dat ef he
hit one uv em ‘gin she’d sho fix him—
den he furgot all ‘bout de chilluns en he
turns on her, en beats her tell she fell
on de floo, den he ordered his kerrlge,
en drlv off wid Randy—en marster, I
tried ter fine him ter kill him, but he
wus gone nobody never know’d whar. en
I got on Cotton Seed en rid jes' es fas’
es she could cum, caze young mistis In
do bed, en she won't let em sen fur you.
nur de doctor, needer.’
"Den marster say, ‘Abe, go ter yo
cabin en stay dar, don' yer speak er wurd
ter nobody ‘ceptin Marthy.’
"Gran'pappy sed. ‘Fur de Lawd’s sake,
marster, ain’t yer gwine ter lemme go
’long wld you whin yer kills dat man?’
Put marster ain’t hearin’ nuthin', he hed
dun call Henry en ordered his kerrige
wld de fo’ big Irun gray hosses, en de
big baggage wagon, en ’fo you kin say
Jack Rob’son, marster wus on de rode.
"I'm surprised, mammy, I didn’t know
that refined people listened to servants’
tales.”
“Well I reckon you’se lls’nln’ ter me,
ain’t yer?”
Yes, but you are different from an
ordinary servant; you are my mammy—
the. only mother I have ever known.”
“My gran’daddy wusn’t no common nig
ger. nuther, but hits jes dis way—ev’y
body got er techous place in dey hart,
en I don’t keer who ’tis stracks dat place
—whether hits white fokes er niggers, hit
sho gwine hurt—en whin hit gits ter
hurtln’ fokes fe.rglts all ’bout head
doins. en jes does whut dey hart tells
’em ter do, en dats de way hit wus w’id
ole marster—he dun fergit ev’ything 'cept
Miss Ma'y’s In truble. En gran'mammy
say dat Dinah en Lindy (dey ’longs ter
Col’n'l N.oy), en dey wus in de wash
house over dar et Ool’n’l Noy’s house one
day, en Lindy say ‘Look, Dinah! Dar cums
marster home! Poo' mistis, she gits
treated meaner'n de niggers. How cum
she don't quit marster?’
“Dinah say, ‘You’se. er fool, Lindy, de
very ideer er qual'ty quittin’ one nuther.
Mistis got so much quality 'bout her dat
she ain't never let nun her kin, nor even
ole marster know nuthin’ 'bout hit, en
Mom Milly say, ‘De last visit she make
ter Mars John, dat Miss Mildred ax her
how cum her ter be so pale en thin, en
Mistis tucken sed. ’OKp reeson wus she
’speck, caze lit’le Thomas keeps so poo’ly.
Lawdy, look yonder! Dat ars Mars John.
I know'd dem irun-gray hosses er his’ln.’
Dey sed ’Howdy, Mars John.’ ‘Ilowdy!’
he sed. ‘Whar's yo mistis?' Dinah sed,
‘She's In her room; I’ll run tell her you’se
cumin’, Mars John.’ He se<l, ‘No, I’d
ruther 'nounce m'se’f.'
"Den Miss Ma’y jump en say, ‘Oh. pa
pa, I’m so glad ter see. yer!’
"He say, ’How is yer. m’ chile?’
“She tell him she’s well; jes a lit'le
weak frum de spring wether. He say,
‘Ma’y, darter, look in m' eye, en tell me
de trufe. Is yo husban’ ever teched you,
ter hit you?’
"She drap her eyes, en hole her head
down en say, ‘Yes.’
"Marster say, ‘Pack up de tilings you
wants ter car'y ’long wid yer, caze we
leaves hear in er hour.'
“Den she says, ‘Oh, no, no, papa. I can'!
I'd ruther die dan disgrace m' chillun en
m' fam’ly!'
"He say. ‘Don’ say er wurd, but ’bay
whut I tells yer ter do. I’m gwine ter
speak ter Col’n'I Noy now.’
"She say. ‘He dun gone ’way, en I dun
no whin he. gwine cum back.’
“Marster say, ‘Dat’s alrite; he'll cum
back; dat dur's plenty time ter ten’ ter
hirr..’
“Miss Ma’y groan, ‘Oh, papa, fur God’s
sake leave me! Go home; go back ter
mamma ef you luvs me.’
"Marster turn ’round en call Dinah,
en tell her ter order her mistis' kerrige,
en de chlllun’s kerrige, too; dat dey
gwlne start In les’n er ’our.’
Dinah say, ’Yes, sar, Mars John;
thank de Lawd.’
"Lindy ax Mom Millie how com Miss
Ma’y ter leave her. Mom Millie say ‘Caze
de blessed angel lef’ biznes fur her ter
ten’ ter et home—dat de reeson, en she
sho gwine ten’ ter hit. too.’
“Den dey driv off, dey did, en dey ain’t
bln gon'd mo’n two hours whin Lindy
holler, ‘Lawdy, hear cum marster. Mom
Millie! Who gwine meet him? He sho
gwine beet de fus’ one in de way whin
he knows mistis gone.'
“Mom Millie say, ‘Git outten de way,
Lindy. I’m gwine meet marster, dats part
de biznes I got ter do.’ Den she draps
er ourt’sy en say, ‘Evenin’, marster.'
"He say, ‘Whar’s you mistis?’
“Mom Millie say, ’Mars John cum over
here en ax her ter go pay him er visit,
en she tuck de chilluns en wint fur er
spell.’
"Den he cuss, en swore, en sed some
body bin spyin’. en den lyin' on him. Mom
Millie never sed nuthin’. Den he sed he
'speck mistis dun fell cryin’ on her par
en tole him whut made her sick; den
Mom Millie jes’ rare up en sed: ’Nobody
ain't never seed no tears in mistis eyes
yit, en her mouf don't say nuthln’ but
good.’ Den he look like lie’s so mad, he
sho gwine bus’ op’n; en ’fo’ he. could git
bref 'nuf ter speak, cross-eyed Bob come
in en he turns on him, en axes him whar
mistis is; how cum her ter • gone, en
whin did she lef’?’
"Bob tole er story en sed he don’t
nuthin’ 'tall ’bout hit, ’ceptin’ dey lef’
yistiddy.
"Den Col’n’l Noy tell him he better
mine how he handles de. trufe wid him,
dat he’ll break ev’y bone in bis body ef
he 'ceives him ’bout Miss Ma’y.
"Den Bob say: ‘I tell you, marster, I
don’t know nuthin' ’tall ’bout hit, ’cept'n
Mars John drlv up ter de doo’, eji wint
in ter see mistis by. hisse’f, en ’fo’ he hed
time ter git in. he wus dun out ord’in
her kerrige en de chilluns’ kerrige, en
wus gone, ’fo dey could ev’n giv de
hosses nuthin’.’
"Den he rip. en tare, en cuss, en say he
gwine kill ’em bofe, en calls Ike ter
change hosses; he gwine start in five
minits. Den he yell et ’Randy ter git his
du’lin’ pistols. ’Randy say, ‘Oh, Lawdy,
Mom Millie, poo’ mistis! Poo’ mistis!
whut mils’ I do? He gwine kill ’em bofe!
Fur de Lawd’s sake, tell me sumthln'
ter do.”
"Mom Millie say, ‘I wish ter God he’d
take me wid him. I knows whut I'd do.’
"’Randy say: ‘What's dat Mom Millie?
Tell me, en I’ll do hit.’
"She say: ‘Drap sumthin’ in his vit-
tals.'
"She say: "Spose I can’t git no chance?’
By
'Randy, Is
"Jes den Col’n’l Noy holler:
you got ev’ything reddy?’
"She sav: ‘Yes, ser, marster.'
“He say, ’Git in de baggage, wagon wid
Bob tell I wants you.’
"She say. ’Yes, ser, marster.*
"Den In er minute dey wus jes er tiltin’
up de road In Mars John’s tracks.
"Den she say ter Bob: ‘Lawd, Bob!
Whut’s gwine ter hap’n now?’
"Bob say, ‘Hebben jn yerth gwlne ter
bump tergedder. dat’s whut gwine ter
hap'n. Whin yer sees er good man like
Mers John so mad tell he's dun got rite
pale en pinched lookin’, en ferglts ter say
"howdy” ter ennybody, den don’t never
git in dat man’s way, caze hit’s dang’ous;
en whinever you sees er mean man like
marster so mad dat de blood look like
hit’s jes’ ’bleeged ter bus loose frum his
face, en he plum fergits ter beat his
niggers, too, den you keep fur es you kin
out cn dat .nan’s way. Dem two mens is
dang’ous,. en, whut’s mo, dey gwine hunt
fur one nuther, en whin dey meets bofe
uv cm ain't gwine cum out ’live. Dat’s
whut's gwine hap'n.’
‘Randy say, ‘Lawdy, Lawdy, Bob! We
got ter do sumthin’ ter keep marster frum
ketchin’ up wid Mars John. Whut kin
we do?’
‘Bob say, ‘Nuthin’ ’tall, Randy. Dey
ain’t nothin’ we kin do, les'n de Lawd
starts him off on de trip ter Satan dat
he sho got ter take sum day.’
"Randy say, ‘Ain't we gwine ter stop
nun tell we gits plum ter 'Guster? Dese
hear hosses’ll drop dend.’
"Bob say. ‘No, Lawd! He say we get
ter drive like hell, plum tell we gits dar,
ef hit kills ev'y hoss en nigger In de
v. r orl’. Dar, now, marster's callin' you,
Randy.’
"Randy say, ‘Yes, ser, I'm er-cumin'.
Den she got out’en de wagon wid
Bcb an’ git in Colonel Noy’s kerrige dat
wus jes in front.
"Den. atter while. Randy gits out’en
Col’nl Noy’s kerrige en tell Ike, ‘Marster
say take hit lit’le slower, en stop fur de
nite w hin yer gits ter Channey’s tave’n.’
"Bob say, ’You staid mighty long time
in dar; how cum? 1-
"Randy say, ‘Marster’s got de colic.’
"Bob say, ’I wish ter de Lawd he’d hev
hav it de res’ uv his days.’
Randy say, ‘Bob, whut mus' we do—
can’t you think uv nuthln’ tall?’
“Bob say, ’Randy, Satan takes keer uv
dat whut's his'n, en nuthin’ gwine tor
hap’n ter marster; but you jes watch out
fur Mars John, he’ll be de onliest one
dat’s gwine git kilt. Den atter he kills
Mars John, he’s gwlne take mistis back
home en kill her er lit’le bit ev'y day.
“Randy say, ’Lawd er Mussey! we jes
got ter do sumthin’ ter keep him parted
frum poo’ mistis. Whut is we ter do? Ei
we stops hear er nite, dat won't keep h’.ra
back tut er day.’
“Den Col'nl Noy call Randy, en tell bet
ter tell Ike ter git Tong wid him, he wants
ter git dar in five miniis.
"Randy say. ‘We’se mos’ dar now,
Marster, en whin yer kin git sum but
salt or yo stomaek en er hot brick tei
yer feet 1 'speck you’ll be better. Hear
we is now.’ An' sho nuf, dar dey wus at
de tave’n. Randy say, ‘You g’long ter de
room, marster. en I'll go heat de salt.'
“Den Bob cum hollerin’, ‘Randy, fur de
Lawd sake hurry back ter marster; he’s
ci.ssin’ en tarin' up de whole tave'n.’
"Randy say, T can’t git dar no quiek-
er’n I is—I ain't no flier—en I’m ’bleeged
ter wait tell dat whut is ter heat dis hear
salt.’
“Den Randy run on ter Col'nl Noj ert
say, ‘Hear I is, marster.’
"He take en cuss her. en tell her tel'
go git him sum draps out'en de med'ein
ehist, en be sho she git de rite bottle; en
Randy fotched de draps, but he look et
’em en say, ‘Dat's er-mighty heap er
draps;’ but Randy tell him, ‘Hit’s jes
'lout much es he al’ays takes; dat he
better take hit quick so he kin travel en
ketch Mars John. Wid dat he swaller lilt
all down. Den she put de brick \er his
feet, en wus fixin’ ter put de salt on him
v. hin he grab de salt en throw hit et
Randy, en tell her ter go make er mus
taid plaster.
"Den Randy say ter herse’f. dat ef he
ain’t sleep ’fo she gits back wid dat mus
tard plaster, de Lawd never is ter save
de ritthous; en she call Bob ter stay wid
him tell she cum. Whin she cum back
Bob say, ’Marste.* wint ter sleep er-cussin'
you. Jes’ look et marster. Randy, he
look so cu'ious; he’s sleepin' so hard like
lie never is ter wake no mo.’
"Randy says, ’You let marster Tone:
Satan gwine take keer his own; you dun
sed so yo’se'f.’
"fie «ay. ‘Dat's so. Good nite.’
"Den Randy say she never pass sien er
nite in her life—day look like hit dun fer
git ter break; but she sho sot dar en kep
her back turn ter Col'nl Noy. She say
she hed dun made up her mine ter tell
Mars John she kilt him. en jes trus' de
good Lawd en her blessed Mistis ter 'tect
her Den she sorter turn round en
glimpse et Col’n] Noy, en she say, ‘Good
God! Marster's rize'n up et me.’ Den she
holler, fur sh n can’t stan’ hit no longer,
en she run out. she did, en holler, ‘Sum-
bed y run hear quick. Marster's dun dead!
Run fur de doctor, en tell cross-eyed Bob
ter go fas’ es he kin fur Mars John en
Mistis.’
“Tave'n keeper say, ‘Is Col'nl Noy
reely dead?’
“Randy say, ‘Yes, ser; he mus’ er died
ill de nite fur he wus sleepin’ solin’ whin
Bob lef him, cn I wint ter bed.’ ”
"Heavens, mammy! What did they do
with Randy?”
"Whut did dey do to Randy? You’se
crazy, chile. Mars John sot Randy free;
dat’s whut dey dun to Randy.”
Mrs Hugh Hagan
Of Atlanta, Ga
gran dad wus homed, en Mars Jack’s wife
80 Slck >’ OUn S mistis en ole Mom
Milly hatter take keer him. Den whin
Mars Jack's wife gets well, young mistis
dun got her hart so tangled up wid de
baby dat dey 'bleeged ter keep on let tin’
him sleep in her room, caze her boy Rob
ert wusn’t no comfort ter his mar. He
tells Mars Jack he want ter to po to
Uripe, dat he ain’t gwine ter no school
ceptin in Englan’. Mars Jack tell him
ne orter be ’shame ter wanter go en leave
his mar en worry his gran’par so, but
Lawd, chile, Robert doan keer fur young
mistis r.ur ole marster nuther, he jes’
thinkln’ ’bout hisee’f. Young mistis
swade ole marster ter let him go, en Mars
Jack got er tuter ter go trav’lin’ wid him
in Uripe, en den dey sont him ter school
in Englan'. M’ gran'mammy say ev’y-
thing got happy ’gin soon es dat ptsky
boy wus goned.
I seed tears in m’ gran’mammy eye
many er time whin she think ’bout how-
ole marster en ole miss settin’ out on
de collonude in de evenin’s wid de wistera
c.immin up de big white postes en de
cape jes’mine trees all in bloom en smell-
jn so sweet en heavy dey make eve’y-
body feel like noddin , en young mistis
playin on the gittar en Mars Jack en his
wife singin’; den when dey stops yer
hears de niggers settin’ out in front dey
cablns singin’ es loud en sweet es dey
kin, songs like dls hear:
“O Shedrack, Meshack en Bednego
Gone ter hebben so long or go;
Halle-halle luyuh!
"Howdy you do, m’ mother.
Howdy you do ter day?
O what you think er judgment day?
Halle-halle luyuh!
“O howdy you do. m’ father,
Howdy you do ter day?
O what you think er judgment day?
Halle-halle luyuh!
“O howdy you do, m’ sister,
Howdy you do ter day?
O what do you think er judgment day?
Halle-halle luyuh!
“Oh, m’ gran'mammy say hit all seems
like er gran’ halleluyuh. En twas, too. One
day dey got er letter frum Robert sayin’
he wus cumin’ home en young mistis wus
so happy. Ole marster invite de kin fokes
en frin's ter meet him, en dey gives er
party same es a weddin’ infar. De fokes
cum en stay er week. Atter di y goes
Robert starts his wild prankin' ways. He
ain’t good fur nuthin’ but drinkin’ whisky
en gamblin’ en race hosses. Poo’ young
mistis’s hart jes’ break ’gin, en dis time
dar wusn’t nuthin’ ter kure hit. She jes’
melted like snow in de sunshine en one
day you gran’dad, he wusn’t but seben
ye’rs ole den. he went in en car’ied her
his hat full er Cherokee roses. She tuck
de flowers en* smil’. en she shot her eyes
en went out like er candle. But Robert
never keered; he kep’ on wid his deuble-
ment en Mars Jack hatter spen' hun-
deds dollars ter keep him out’en de jail
house.
En one day he wus ridin’ out on one uv
dem race hosses uv hissln. en him. en his
frins pass er lit’le mission church whar
dar wus sum doo’ white trash havin’ er
weddin’. When de bride cum out down
de church steps Robert seed her, en he
stop his hoss en say ter de bridegroom: ’I
wants yer wife.’ He say: ‘Yer can't git
her.’ He say, ‘I give yer $5,000 cash.’ De
bridegroom say: ‘I take hit.’ En he did.
too. en Robert made his body sarvant git
down of'en his hoss. en go git er side
saddle, en he put de gal on de hoss. en
tuck her ter one uv his nlantashuns. Soon
es ole marster hear ’bout hit. he jes’
gits er d’vorse fur de gal frum dat man
whut solo her, den he goes ter Robert,
en says: 'I ’aint gwine let you stain mv
fam'iy no mo en whut vou is. en you gpt
ter mar’y dis gal.’ En he made him
mafv her: den he gives him ail de nrop'ty
Col'nl Noy lef. en tells him he dun wash
his ban's uv him. en hissin. en he did.
too. En Robert take en drink hisse’f
plum ter death, en his wife en her crowd
uv poo’ white chillun tuck en loss all de
money dey got by his hear las war dat
dev fit over de niggers en sot em free—en
honey, when poo’ white trash gits poo'
’gin dev do trashiest trash on earth. Well
dat de way wid dem. dev never hed no
quality to hole em up whin trouble cum.
en dey jes sink plum ter de bottom. Her
chillun mar’ied de same kind uv trash
whut she wus. en dat’s whar vo
Nov. dat’s vou’se cryin’ over, cum frum.
‘•Is this really the truth, mammy .
‘‘Cose hits de God’s trufe. en I ruther
lay yer out en bury yer wid m/ "wn han
den git our fam’iy mixed u,p wid dat Noy
blood ergln.”
“But do you suppose this Mr. Rob
Nov can have that wicked, common o -
**“1 don’t b’lieve nuthin tall ’bout hit. I
knows hit. en I knows dis too. all our
fam’iy dies wid dey harts, ’specially wmn
dey gits loaded too heavy wdd trouble: en
marster’s mighty ole. en worrln over you
a whole nite. I dunno whut hitll do te
him. fur all our fokes dies settin up in
der cheer.”
‘‘Mercy, mammy! Do you think grandad
is worried as much as that?”
“I don’t think nuthin—I knows his poo’
ole hart fixin ter bus rite now. en nobody
ter comfurt him—mistis dead. Miss Sarah
dead, en you mad wid him. callin him
hard-harted, en onjist. God knows, nigger
es I is. I gret mine ter go fall on him en
cry m’ eyes out.”
“Dear grandad! I’ll run to him now.”
But on reaching the library door she is
transfixed by the picture that meets her
eye. Sitting In his easv chair with his
head slightly bowed General Willis looks
th<* embodiment of desolate meditation.
To Mary’s over-WTought vision, it was
the image of death which her mammv
had so lately described. She tried to call,
but her lips, rigid with fear, refused to
respond.
“Why, Mary, not in bed?”
“Oh. grandad! grandad! I love you!
Don’t die. please don’t leave me. and I'll
never give you sorrow again.”
“What’s the cause of all this, mv
child?’’
"Mammy’s told me all about Colonel
Noy and Aunt Mary, and that dishonor
able Robert, and his vulgar marriage
and common children, and I hate the
name of Robert Noy. and I don’t love
anybody but you. grandad! Forgive your
wayward little girl, won’t vou?”
Two big tears rolled down the old sol
dier’s face.
"I bless mv wayward little girl, for she
has given me my womanlv little woman,
the true daughter of my people.”
SARAH JOHNSON HAGAN.
Lauretta
E Wilkins
England Nun,” “A Pot pf
Honey," "The Love of Parson Lord,” Etc. V*
CONTINUE.!) EROM FIRST PAGE
FOUR.
“Mammy! Mammy! That is dreadful!
It’s horrible!”
“Hit sho Is, but dat ain’t all; dut boy
yer fixin’ ter luv's closer ter raskality
dan his greatgran’par, too. Atter dey take
Col’nl Noy back ter his place en bury him
ole marster try ter git young mistis ter
go back en live wid him, but she say no,
hit’s her duty ter stay dar en look alter
de plantashun en see dat de overseer wus
good ter de niggers. Ole marster tell her
he’ll ride backards en forruds en ten’ ter
hit, but she say no, he's too ole ter do
hit, en Mars Jack, young mistis’s bruther,
he wus gone up ter Virginia ter mar’y
Miss Sarah. So young mistis say she
gwine ter stay dar tell Mars Jack cum
home, but, honey, hit look like Col’nl
Noy’s sperrit dun hant de place, fur she
ain’t bin home er week ‘fo two de chillun
take en die wid de scarlet fever, en dat
never lef de poo’ child wid but cne lit’le
boy, en his name wus Robert. Ole mars
ter he writ ter Mars Jack ter cum on
home en he cum on de fus’ boat. Enstid
er gein’ ter his plantashun ole marster
give him fur bridal present, ole marster
say day all got ter live wid him, cn so
young mistis en Mars Jack en his bride,
dey all lives wid ole marster on m’ gran’
mammy say hit sho look like ole times
cum ’gin, caze Mars Jack an’ his young
wife make fokes happy whedder dey
wants ter be er no. Tain’t long 'fo yo
saw that the window was open—the win
dow close to the table—and she reasoned
it out that somebody must have opened
it and set the pot of lilies inside. Then
all at once it flashed upon her that Ed
ward Adams must have done it, for he
had a little greenhouse, though he did
not sell flowers. He was in the Savings'
bank. She was sure that Edward did it.
and I was. too, when she called me in
and showed me the flowers. I went to
church that Sunday, and had to pass
her house, and she stood in the doorway
and called me. “Won’t you come in just
t minute?” said she; "there's time
enough.”
So I let Joseph go on. and I went in.
“What have you got here so sweet?”
said I, the minute I stepped inside.
“Look here,” said Lauretta, and she
led me into the sitting room and pointed
to the pot of lilies.
T had never seen such beautiful lilies.
I can't begin to tell how many blossoms
there were, and the quantity of buds,
and anything like the fragrance. “Why,
who sent thfm?' said I.
"I found them here this morning,” said
Lauretta.
"Why, who sent them?”
"Who do you ’suppose?” asked Lau
retta.
We looked at each other, then I began
to laugh. I remembered Edward Ad
ams's greenhouse. “I guess it doesn’t
require a very sharp wit to tell,” said I.
and Lauretta colored beautifully, and I
saw that she thought as I did.
"Don’t tell anybody,” said she. She
put her arms around me when she said
that, and hid her face on mv shoulder.
“Don't you worry, dear child." said I.
and stroked her pretty light hair. Lau
retta was older than I, but she always
seemed younger.
Well, I had t > hurry out, and catch un
with Joseph, but when I saw Lauretta
come Into the church a little later I
thought I had never seen her look so
pretty. Her long black veil swept back
from her fair hair, and her face was as
delicate as a lily, with just such clear
curves, and she moved with such a shy
grace that people turned to look at her—
and I didn’t wonder. To my mind, the
school teacher, in a new Easter hat all
covered witfi roses, was tawdry beside
her; and I once caught Edward Adams
looking at Lauretta, and I had my own
opinion.
It’was such a beautiful Sunday, full
moonlight, that Joseph and I went to
meeting in the evening, and Lauretta was
there. When the meeting was over, I
expected that she would do what she
had always done whenever she had hap
pened to be at evening meeting since her
mother died—edge up to me, and cling to
me going out, as she used to do to her
mother; but that night she did not. i
looked around for her, and never was so
astonished in my life. I could not be
lieve it was Lauretta. She was actual
ly moving in that gentle, imperceptible,
gliding fashion of hers, close to Edward
Adams, and sho actually moved on ahead
of the schoolteacher. The schoolteach
er’s roses brushed Lauretta’s black veil,
they were so close together. Then I
heard Lauretta say; "Good evening, Mr.
Adams,” of her own accord; and I could
not believe my ears. And I could not
believe my eyes, when the schoolteacher
passed me, walking very fast with Mrs.
Lansing; it turned out afterwards that
she had been engaged to somebody in
Boston all the time, and never told; and
Lauretta followed behind us, leaning on
Edward Adams's arm.
I looked around, and nudged Joseph to
look. "Good Lord!” said he, so loud
that I was afraid that they would hear
him; and I had to hush him up.
Well, It wasn't a month before it was
all over the village that Edward Adams
and Lauretta were engaged; and they
were married In the course of the sum
mer. Lauretta let her house, and went
to live in Edward's. But that Isn’t the
strange part of it all. Lauretta did not
say much to Edward about the pot of
lilies for some little time; she had a sort
of feeling since he had brought them so
secretly, as she supposed, that there was
something sacred about it, that she
would not even thank him. So all she
did was to say how beautiful the lilies
were when he came Into the room which
was so sweet with them; and he said yes,
as well he might. There, never were such
lilies. But after a while, when the blos
soms had all faded and the buds had
bloomed and died, she wondered what to
do with the plant, so she said something
to Edward about it. She thanked him
for sending it, and asked if it would not
he best for him to take it back to his
greenhouse and keep it over until an
other year. Then It transpired that Ed
ward had never sent that pot of Easter
lilies, that he had none like it, that the
pot was unlike anything he had ever had,
that he had never seen the plant until
that Easter Sunday, when he came into
Lauretta's sitting room.
They never found out where that great
pot of lilies came from. Edward tried to
keep the plant, but it died before the
next Easter. He questioned all the flor
ists for miles about; but none of them
knew anything about it. No one knew,
and no one will ever know. We can sur
mise and question, but we shali never
know; but there is no doubt that those
lilies have sweetened Lauretta’s whole
life, for she would never have married
Edward Adams had not some one set
them on her table.
The End.
’ AN APRIL FOOL
By ETHEL E SLEEPER
OOD morning, Miss Adams,”
said William Seamans, of
the firm of Gilbert, Sea
mans & Co., lumber deal
ers, as he entered the of
fice one bright spring
morning.
Dolly Adams, the book
keeper, looked up from her
ledger, eyeing him curious
ly, as she said, "Good
morning. Mr. Seamans,
and congratulations, also.”
ii c turned around nervously. "So,
you’ve caught on to it,” he said, “I'd like
to know what it means. All the way to
the office people were congratulating me
right and left, and begging to know the
name of the ‘lucky one,’ as they phrased
it.”
"What did you tell them?" asked Dolly,
reddening a little beneath his steady gaze.
“Oh,” with a laugh, “of course I said I
didn't know, but I am sorry to say that,
in the majority of cases, they doubted my
word and accused me of being ‘sly’ and
‘queer.’ and now you open upon me. Have
you any idea what it all means?"
"Why, Mr. Seamans,” cried the aston
ished Dolly, “is it possible you don't know
that all your friends have received an in
vitation to your wedding, which takes
place tomorrow evening, though, strange
ly enough, the name of the prospect've
bride is not given?”
“The d-d-Cickens!” gasped Mr. Sea
mans, as he sank into a chair and mopped
his forehead with his handkerchief, while
he added: "Have you-er one of those-er
documents, Miss Adams?”
Silently Dolly put one cf the invitations
into his hand, watching him as he read
it and noting the gradual brightening of
his fac" until, as he finished, he ex
claimed: “Humph! I fancy I have the
key to this precious document. I wagered
a diamond ring apiece with my nieces,
Jennie and Sue. that they couldn't ’fool
me’ upon April 1st. and they boasted they
would not only 'fool me,' hut the whole
town also.
"It was only yesterday that Sue asked
me if she might have an April-fool party,
and I consented, not dreaming I was the
victim she proposed to sacrifice.
“But she may find an April fool she
hasn’t expected.
"Dolly, will you help me teach these
silly girls a lesson?” Before Dolly could
reply there came an imperative call for
Mr. Seamans from the mill, and he has
tened away, leaving Dolly to wonder how
she was expected to help checkmate his
fun-loving nieces.
All that day packages, great and small,
were arriving at the office, evidently sent
by friends who considered the invitation
a bona fide one, and Dolly was kept busy
at the telephone answering inquiries.
It was late in the afternoon when Mr.
Seamans again appeared, looking tired
and vexed.
“By George!" he exclaimed, dropping
into the chair beside Dolly, "I can't stand
this much longer.
’’Somebody’s getting fooled if I am not.
Things begin to look serious, and the
whole town will be down on Sue and Jen
nie.
“Why, there are no less than six Morris
chairs and two sideboards in the back of
fice, to say nothing of china and bric-a-
brac sufficient to stock an ordinary store.
What shall I do?” and he looked appeal
ingly at Dolly.
“Do?” repeated she, laughingly. “I’m
sure I don’t know, unless you take the
hint and make It a real marriage.”
“A capital idea,” he replied, “but who
would marry an old man of forty?”
"How can you say that?” cried Dolly
impulsively. “Forty isn’t old. I’m sure
no one would object to your age,” and
then she blushed furiously at her bold
ness.
He looked at her keenly, and what he
read in her face must have satisfied him,
for, taking her unresisting hand in his, he
whispered: "Dolly, will you help me pun
ish Sue and Jennie as they deserve?"
‘‘I—I—don’t understand you,” faltered
Dolly. “I am sure you do,” he said, earn
estly. “You must .know I have loved you
all these weeks you have worked so pa
tiently to care for your mother.
“But she shall be in my care in the fu
ture If you will only say 'yes.’ ”
Dolly gave a little gasp of astonishment.
“Will you, Dolly?” he whispered.
“Yes,” she said, softly, turning toward
him a face like a ros'e.
The morning of April first dawned warm
and pleasant. The Seamans were astir
early and under the girls’ skillful fingers
the house soon put on its gala dress, and
was made sweet with flowers and ferns.
Six o'clock, the invitations said, was the
hour appointed for the ceremony, and
long before that time every guest had ar
rived, and there was many a whispered
surmise as to who the bride might be, but
all agreed that it was a good thing for
William to put some steady hand over
those “filthy nieces.”
Meanwhile the nieces themselves were
beginning to fear they had gone too far.
and almost dreaded the moment when
they must confess the hoax and trust to
the good time they meant to give their
guests to earn their forgiveness.
They were still wondering just how it
was best to be done, when, as the clock
chimed 6, the door opened, an I the Rev.
Mr. Fish entered, followed by Mr. Sea
mans, looking proud and hapoy, with
pretty, blushing Dolly leaning upon his
arm.
Very quietly they took their places in
the center of the room, where a few sol
emn words soon made them man and
wife.
Throughout the ceremony Sue and Jon-
ie stood staring at the couple in bewil
dered astonishment, and only came to
themselves when they saw the guests
crowding around to congratulate the new
ly wedded pair, when they rallied enough
to make an awkward attempt to fellow
their example.
"Never mind, girls.” said Mr. Seamans,
with a twinkle in his eye, as he took the
hand of each, “you've done me n gt od
turn if you didn’t mean it, and have well
earned ycur rings, even if you are—a pair
of ‘April fools.’ ”
*
Aided His Good Memory
Speaker Henderson told recently a good
story of one of his initial experiences
among public men in Washington. It
was before he had been elected to con
gress, probably twenty-five years ago.
Blaine was then speaker. Naturally he
was one of the statesmen that General
Henderson much desired to meet, and the
opportunity came- of a morning, just as
the speaker was passing through the lob
by on his way to the marble rostrum.
The formal greetings were exchanged in
a brief moment, and General Henderson
was left to see the swinging doors close
on the stalwart form of the republican
leader.
Six years later General Henderson again
came to Washington, this time to get
Iowa divided into two judicial circuits.
He put up at Wortnley’s, where Blaine
also lived, it being in those days a
fashionable and flourishing hostelry. A
week or so after his arrival from low.-*,
as General Henderson was entering the
dining room, he met Blaine, after having
passed and repassed him many times
The Maine man grasped him cordially
by the hand, called him by name and
inquired about Iowa.
"I had heard of Speaker Blaine’s won
derful faculty for remembering names ”
says General Henderson. “When I had
seated myself at the table I beckoned
to the head waiter.
1 , Mr ' BIalne asked you my
“™ e . 1 said to h,m - ‘Now think hard
and be sure of your answer ’
“ ’Yes, sah,’ re-lied the waiter ‘He
done called me ovah las' night an’ asked
yo name an' all about yo‘. I tole him v o’
was Mistah Henorson.' ” yo
a
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