The Continental Monthly, Vol. 2, No. 2, August, 1862. VariousЧитать онлайн книгу.
but a thousan' ter my back, slapped thet inter fifteen hun'red acres, paid it down, and then hired ten likely North-Car'lina 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 bisness hadn't a come 'long, I'd hev hed a right smart chance o' doin' well.'
'I'm satisfied secession will ruin the turpentine business; 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 turpentine. I've talked it over 'long with my nigs, and we kalkerlate ef these ar doin's go eny furder, ter tap no more trees, but cl'ar land an' go ter raisin' craps.'
'What! do you talk politics with your negroes?'
'Nary a politic; but I'm d—d ef th' critters doan't larn 'em sumhow. The' knows 'bout as much uv what's goin' on as I du; but plantin' arn't politics, it's bisness, an' they've more int'rest in it nor I hev, 'cause they've sixteen mouths ter feed agin my four.'
'I'm glad, my friend, that you treat them like men; 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 that little nig thar?' pointing to a juvenile, coal-black darky of about six years, who was standing before the 'still' fire; 'thet ar little devil kin read an' speak like a parson. 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-tail, with a old sheet wound round him fur a toger (I've told him th' play-actors du it so down ter Charles'on,) an' spoutin' out: 'My name am Norval; on de Gruntin' hills my fader feed him hogs!' The little coon never seed a sheep, an' my wife's told him a flock's a herd, an' he thinks 'hog' sounds better'n 'flock,' so, contra'y ter th' book, he puts in 'hogs,' and hogs, you knows, hev ter grunt, so he gits 'em on th' Gruntin' hills;' 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 little 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 looking up trustfully in his face, said:
'Wal, massa?'
'What's yer name?'
'Dandy Jim, massa.'
'Thet arn't all; what's th'rest?'
'Dandy Jim of ole Car'lina.'
'Who made ye?'
'De good God, massa.'
'No, he didn't; God doan't make little nigs. He makes none but white folks,' said the master, laughing.
'Yas, he'm do; missus say he'm do; dat he make dis nig jess like he done little Totty.'
'Wal, he did, Jim. I'm d—d ef He didn't, fur nobody else cud make ye!' replied the man, patting the little wooly head with undisguised affection.
'Now, Jim, say th' creed fur 'de gem-man.''
The young darky then repeated the Apostles' Creed and the Ten Commandments.
'Is thet all ye knows?'
'No, massa, I knows a heap 'sides dat.'
'Wal, say suthin' more; sum on 'em pieces thet jingle.'
The little fellow then repeated with entire correctness, and with appropriate gestures and emphasis, though in the genuine darky dialect—which seems to be inborn with the pure, Southern black—Mrs. Hemans' poem:
'The boy stood on the burning deck.'
'Mrs. Hemans draped in black!' I exclaimed, laughing heartily; 'How would the good lady feel, could she look down from where she is, and hear a little darky doing up her poetry in that style?'
'D—d ef I doan't b'lieve'twud make her love th' little nig like I do,' replied the corn-cracker, taking him 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 lamed '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 little man, it's wrong to tell lies, you must always speak the truth; now, tell me truly, did not your 'missus' 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 him but thet,' said the corn-cracker, leaning forward, and breaking 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!'
'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 remembered 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 him 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 Cunnel take dis bery hard, and dat I orter tell him I'se sorry for what I'se done.'
'Well, wait awhile. Let me go in first.'
Accompanied by the corn-cracker, I entered the turpentine-shed. A row of spirit-barrels were ranged along each of its sides, and two tiers occupied the centre of the building. On 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 speaking, I stepped to the side of the dead.
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 of 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, standing 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.'
'No, 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?'
'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 terrible! Did you ever see such a look as