Our Phil

OUR Phil was blacker than the ace of spades. He was the blackest darky that ever was born. Jet, huckleberries, charcoal, ebony, and crows were nothing to him. On the old place at home it was considered quite a point to be black ; if you could not be a “ ’latter,” or a mulatto, as you precise Northerners would say, why then, the next best thing was to be dead-black.

All of Phil’s people were black; Aunt Dolly, his mother, who cooked at the “house” for twenty-five years, used to almost put the fire out when she looked into it; Uncle Pete, his father, and Sam, Cæsar, Hagar, and Ann, his brothers and sisters, were every one as black as Egypt.

After nearly a quarter of a century, Aunt Dolly began to fail a little in her cooking; she forgot the salt in the corn-cakes one day, and let the pot-pie burn the next.

“That will never do, Dolly,” said my mother.

“ Awful sorry, mistis,”replied Aunt Dolly, penitently.

“ You are not so young as you were, and you must not try to do so much. We will get some one in to help you ; who shall it be, Dolly ? ”

“There’s Jupe’s Clarsy,” said Aunt Dolly, after a minute’s thought, “ she’s a likely gal; quite spry, I heerd, mistis, quite spry, since she come back.”

“ Very well, you shall have her, then.” This likely girl of Jupiter’s, Clarissa by name, had recently come back to her father. She scarcely deserved the name of girl, for she was on the sensible side of thirty, and was a widow, or as much of one as a woman can be who does not know whether her husband is dead or alive. Her Jacob, a man twenty years older than herself, had gone away to sea five years before, and she had never seen or heard of him since. After wandering about from place to place at service, she had finally come home again, and now she was to be installed as helper to Aunt Dolly.

These people were not slaves, but had been. Long before that eventful hour when the great public Proclamation of Freedom broke every bond in the land with one blow, the process of emancipation had been going on slowly but very surely in those sections of the South that bordered on the Northern States. Liberty cannot keep itself to itself. It was, in those old times, like a pear-tree planted near the boundary line of your garden; its shade, its fragrance, its leaves, and a goodly portion of its fruit, would fall over on the other side. So the desire to be free and to set free, the love of liberty in its fullest and widest sense, had crept down silently into many a plantation and old estate in Kentucky, Virginia, and along our Maryland coast.

How any one could ever oppress the weak, oppose the right, uphold the wrong, or stoop to any meanness or dishonor, in the face of the everlasting sea, I cannot understand. The boundless, restless, mysterious world of waters seems to link us closer to God than any other of his works. It utters his voice in tempest, and mirrors his heavens in calm. Its solemn booming at dead of night, like an accusing voice that protests against wrong and condemns the doer, might set a man crazy if he had guilt on his soul. And its laughing ripples on a spring morning, foaming and bubbling up the beach, while the water beyond is smooth as crystal and clear as the sea of glass in the vision of St. John, ought to persuade him to all goodness, faith, and mercy.

However all this may be, our negroes were free. My grandfather Calvert could never quite bring himself to take the step of freeing them, but the first act of my father when the estate came into his hands was to carry out this long-desired purpose. That was before I was born, and more than a dozen years anterior to the memorable day when Aunt Dolly burned the pot-pie, and was furnished with an assistant in consequence.

Clarsy turned out to be a very likely girl indeed, and before she had worked in the kitchen a year our Phil fell in love with her. I always heard the gossip of the place from Phil’s sister, Black Ann, so called in opposition to 'Latter Ann, who sometimes did the extra laundry work. Black Ann was house-worker, and was the strangest mixture of good and bad, of shrewd and silly, that ever grew up on the old place. One minute she seemed gentle and conscientious ; the next hard as granite and utterly reprobate ; one hour she would tell you horrible lies, and the next come and confess them to you without a particle of penitence ; and in all my life I never saw her shed a tear. If anything disturbed or agitated her very much, she would give a loud, defiant sniff, and wipe her mouth hard with her apron.

I was coming down stairs one day when Black Ann was washing the woodwork. She caught my feet in her hands as I went to pass, exclaiming: “ Bless your little feet, Miss Cathy ! ain't no bigger than corn-cobs ! ”

“ Don't, Anny,” I replied, with as much dignity as a child of twelve could assume; “ I don’t like to have you touch my feet! ”

“ Don’t, eh ? Must let ’em go, then.”

“And I don t like to be called Miss Cathy, either. Cathy is such a horrid name ! ”

“What then ? Can’t say ‘Miss Kitty,’ ’cause that’s the mistis’s name, and then we'd have to call her ‘ Old Miss Kitty,’ and that’s no manners.”

“ You can call me Miss Kate.”

“ Hi ! ” she said, with a laugh, “ that will do for the quality ! Reg’lar quality name ! don’t come nat’ral to a poor darky like me.”

It always made me feel bad to hear Anny call herself a poor darky, so I said : “Well, I don’t care, Anny, you can say Cathy if you like, although it is ugly.”

“ Lor bless you ! ’t ain’t ugly a mite ! It’s sweet as ’lasses! It’s sweet as you be ! Now I ’ll tell you something, ’cause you ’re so good. Phil wants to marry Clarsy ! ”

“ Does he ? ”

“ Yes, but he can’t do it! ”

“ Why not ? ”

“ Got one husband already.”

“ Why, no, Anny, she’s a widow.”

“Only ’bout half, Miss Cathy. They got to wait a year, anyhow; law ain’t up till after seven years.”

“Why, Anny, widows don’t have to wait till their husbands have been dead seven years.”

“Massy, no! not if they’re stonedead ; then you can get married next morning; but if you ain’t sartain sure, got to wait seven years, for fear he ’ll come back.”

“ That seems stupid, because he could come back in seven years and a day or a week.”

“ Don’t know noffink ’bout that, Miss Cathy, only what I heerd ’em tell, that the law was up next year.”

I troubled my head but little about the law, although I regretted very much that the fun of a wedding, with all its attendant good things, should be put off for a whole year, and I felt still worse when I heard through Anny, from time to time, that poor Phil was half sick with anxiety and fear, lest Clarsy’s “Old Jake” should come back before the year was out.

“ He can’t think of noffink else, Miss Cathy,” she said, one day. “ Dreams of him every night, he says ; thinks he sees him swimming ashore, or putting up to the dock, and he goes into cold sweats and nightmares. What’s got hold of him to think so much of that Clarsy, I can’t see ! If old Jake comes back, let him take her, I say, and clar! No, lors ! She can cook pretty smart, but, lor ! any poor darky can cook ! But then she’s a good color, too, Clarsy is ; none of your half-way niggers ! ” Clarsy was black as a coal, too.

“ 1 ’m very sorry for Phil,” said I, “but I think it will all come out right, Anny.”

“ So I tell him, Miss Cathy. More gals than Clarsy in the world, and better ones, too ! But, massy me! when a man gits his mind sot onto a gal, it’s just as it the handle was off the coffeemill ; can’t turn him, nohow ! ”

But in spite of Phil’s nightmare and terror, and Clarsy’s feeble apprehension lest she might lose the wedding-cake, the ring, and the party, the year went round, the “ law was up,” and the marriage-day appointed. Mr. Scott, our minister, was to drive down and perform the ceremony, and remain with us over night; which he frequently did, as his house was seven miles away. All the people about were invited, and even two or three of Clarsy’s relations were coming all the way down from the city to grace the occasion. Mother always took great pains to make our people happy, especially on their holidays and festivals, and wonderful preparations were made for the wedding. Clarsy took a journey to the city, expressly to buy her dress ; but if she had gone to Europe on purpose she could not have found anything uglier. It was the most dismal shade of leadcolored alpaca, striped with black, gloomy enough to make you shed tears ; but she thought it was beautiful, and Aunt Dolly commended her for buying goods that would “ do sarvice.” There were whole ovens full of cake and biscuit baked, and mother frosted the bride’s loaf and put sugar-plums in the icing. The kitchen and back kitchen were newly whitewashed, and the great brick jambs painted black. At last, everything was ready ; the day arrived ; the shelves in the big milk-room fairly sagged with their burden of roast and boiled, and broiled and baked ; dozens of long benches Were brought in from the little meeting-house in the woods to accommodate the guests ; the floors were sanded, the candles lit, and by dusk the people began to gather. The hour arrived, but Mr. Scott had not come. Everything was ready, everybody waiting, time slipping by, and still no Mr. Scott. The darkies were seated in closely packed rows on the benches, keeping solemn silence in expectation of the minister’s coming; ’Lias, the fiddler, and the two “banjopickers,” being very much in the foreground, and quite conspicuous, kept tuning up their instruments to relieve their embarrassment; while the poor bride and groom, martyrs to etiquette, stood patiently all this time in the dark in the milk-room, with nothing but the smell of the refreshments to keep their spirits up while waiting their long-delayed summons.

My father was sitting lazily by the blazing fire in the dining-room, reading contentedly, in the easiest of arm-chairs. “ Leonard,” said my mother, “ it is half an hour past the time, and outdoors it is dark, and raining a little; I ’m afraid Mr. Scott won’t come.”

“ I dare say not,” said father, carelessly.

“ But what will they do ? ”

“ O, let them wait till to-morrow night.”

“ Now, Leonard, you know that’s impossible ! Think of all the people, and how far some of them have come ! Besides, the cake and biscuits will be dry, and the syllabub spoiled ! Suppose you marry them, dear ; you are a judge, and you know you married a couple once.”

“ I ? Pshaw ! pshaw ! Let them jump over a broomstick! I can’t do it ! ”

“ Now, Leonard,” she answered, reprovingly, “you must not speak in that trifling way. Marriage is a very solemn thing, not to be made fun of. Come, now, you marry them, dear ; they will all be so disappointed otherwise ; won’t you ? ”

“ Well, well, if I must, I must. I suppose I can tie them tight enough ! Give us the book then !” and he rose reluctantly, and stretched out his hand for the prayer-book.

“ But you won’t do it in that shooting-jacket, dear.”

“ Why not ? ” “ Nor in those red slippers, with that wicked-looking fox-head on them ! ”

“ What’s the matter with the slippers ?” he said, turning them sideways and looking intently at them.

“ Of course you 'll put on your boots and.your dress-suit.”

“Will I ?”

“Certainly, dear; you wouldn’t look dignified enough, otherwise.”

“ Well, if you say so, it must be done ! Bless me ! I dare n't, though !

I’m afraid I ’ll have to salute the bride ! ”

“ Never fear. Hurry now, it is so late, dear.”

Father loved dearly to tease mother a little with his nonsense, but he was at heart as good as gold and as sweet as honey. Presently he appeared in his black clothes and white cravat, looking as grand and handsome as a prince, I thought. He gave us children a comical wink as we followed him to the kitchen, that set us all laughing; but mother held up herf finger at us, and we knew we must be quiet then.

Phil had on a huge white vest; and, either because he was warm, or uneasy, or vain, or perhaps all three, he had turned his coat so far back at the sides that the vest looked like a full-sized square pillow-case. Clarsy’s lead-colored alpaca was more melancholy than ever by candle-light ; but then she had a pocket-handkerchief nearly the size of Phil’s vest, which she held tight against the middle of her waist, and that relieved the gloom a little. Poor things ! they both looked frightened, but Phil the most so. Clarsy had been through it once before, and he had n’t; besides that, Phil had a big heart, and she a little one; and, moreover, there was no doubt a perpetual vision before his mind of the possibly resuscitating “ Old Jake.”

When the ceremony was over, father congratulated them in the most courteous way ; mother did the same; and then the “quality” was supposed to retire ; although Lucy and I and George, by Aunt Dolly’s special invitation, witnessed the fun through a wide and premeditated crack in the kitchen door. And O, what fun ! The only drawback to our enjoyment was that Fred was away at school, and could not see it too. George went so far as to wish he was a darky himself; and Lucy and I had to appeal to every feeling of delicacy there was inside of his little nine-year-old breast to keep him from rushing in, and participating actively in the proceedings.

“ O dear ! ” he groaned, “ if it was n't a double-shuffle I could stand it! ” But he had to stand it, nevertheless, although he would make his feet go on the entry floor, in spite of our nudges and entreaties. They had come to the genuine, old-fashioned “ Old Virginny never-tire ” double-shuffle now, and no wonder it set him crazy.

just after the marriage ceremony was over, the cake and coffee had been passed ; then Clarsy’s city cousins being introduced to the company, had done their best to overawe the rustic assembly by an amazing display of airs and attitudes, and then the dancing had begun. A little space was cleared in the middle of the floor, hardly big enough to turn around in, and Sam and Cæsar, as brothers of the groom, opened the ball with the time-honored favorite, the double - shuffle. They stood facing each other, their hands hanging straight down by their sides, their eyes rolling, their heads lolling back on their shoulders, or else by way of variety hanging forward with their chins on their breasts. They danced till the floors shook, the rafters trembled and shed dust, and the candles tottered in their sockets ; the perspiration streamed down their faces, and the cords of their hands stood out like cables. Neither would give in, though both were ready to drop ; the excitement augmented every instant, the spectators cheered and “hi-ed!” and finally joined the instruments with a kind of wild, tuneless, minor chorus, the favorite couplet in which seemed to be,— Still Sam and Cæsar danced on with stern determination, fainter and fainter, feebler and feebler, neither willing to be first to yield, both panting and distressed, till finally a brilliant notion struck Sam : he flung his arms around Cæsar with a bear-like hug, and both shuffled down upon a bench together.

Then Clarsy’s city cousin, Charles, proposed to show them how folks did these things in the city. “Hullo for Chawls ! ” “ Clar de kitchen for

Chawls ! ” “ Out de way for de city

nigger ! ” resounded from different parts of the room ; and “ Chawls,” nowise daunted, came forward. He was a very wiry little man, with white cotton gloves on his hands, and small gold hoops in his ears; and his hair was braided in eight tight, stiff little tails, standing out like four horns on each side of his head. He was brimful of airs and graces and bows, and he made all his gestures with his fingers spread to their utmost extent, and the palms of his hands facing his hearers, as if metaphorically he was putting them down flat and holding them there.

But there was a little jealousy against the “city nigger” and his assumption of superiority ; and ’Lias and the other players did not favor him at all; in fact, they put him out as much as possible. Chawls finally had to stop in the very middle of one of his flourishes,—he danced altogether in the air, and only came down to the floor at long intervals, to get a base for another series of springs, — in the very middle of one of his most wonderful flourishes, and appealed to them most piteously, with the palms of his hands pawing the air:-

“If de gent’lum what scrapes de wiolin and de gent’lum what picks upon de banjos would please to keep little better time, dey would make demselves most agree'ble to my feelinks. You see, gent’lum, I would n't make dis request, but, you see, de way we dance to the city we need de best kind of time. De way you dance to de plantation, you see, where you hangs onto de floor wid your feet all de time, and can’t let go, why it’s all de same, whedder or no ; but de way we do it, when we got just so much to get along wid, between each step, we need wery partikler time, gent’lum, wery partikler time indeed.”

The appeal was not without effect, and he completed his performance with approbation on the part of the spectators, and intense complacency on his own.

After that the dancing became general, and between the dances they played games. All of these latter were accompanied by wild, rollicking tunes, sung to very amazing words, and seemed to consist chiefly in choosing favored friends out of the ring, embracing them affectionately, after more or less coquettish reluctance, and then leaving them to make their choice in turn. All this, being done to music, was of course perfectly proper, according to certain rules of high life. The couplets they sang had rather a sameness of sentiment: —

Another great favorite, which they sang about forty times over, was this : — “ O, my love, she is so sweet!

A third, which also occasioned great delight, was sung by the whole circle, while a woman sat on a chair in the middle with a handkerchief over her head to represent a veil, which was finally plucked off by the victorious suitor : —

How long the dancing and singing and eating went on, there ’s no telling, for we children were called away and sent to bed hours before it was over.

After all the jollity was past and ended, the city cousins gone home, the floors scrubbed, the leavings eaten up, and the benches put properly back into the little meeting-house again, as if they had n’t been to a dance and had sassafras-beer spilt on them, Phil and Clarsy set up housekeeping in a snug little cabin on the bank of Eel Creek. Mother gave Phil a table and set of chairs and a wooden clock ; Aunt Dolly “ spared ” him a feather-bed ; and, with the remains of Clarsy’s former household possessions, they were right comfortable. The cabin had a front and back door, and before each entrance Phil had paved a space a yard square with clam-shells. On the outside of each door hung a stout loop of string to lift the wooden latch by ; but it was n’t often used, for the door stood open from morning till night, and Clarsy’s chickens wandered in at one door, picked up the crumbs and scratched in the sand on the floor, and walked out at the other, in a happy, easy, and unrebuked way. The ducks waddled in and thrust their bills in the suppawn pot standing on the hearth, not at all deterred by Clarsy’s mild manner of saying, “ Wal, now ! what ’ll you do next, I wonder ! ” A fine little pig grunted in a new sty close by ; a black cat dozed away a contented existence on the sunny door-sill ; Phil’s gun hung along the rafters on three wooden hooks ; and, to crown the whole, two china dogs and a plaster parrot painted green glorified the mantel-piece. Nothing seemed wanting to complete their felicity, and poor Phil, after all his tribulations, was as happy as a king.

Clarsy made him a tidy, pleasant, sweet-tempered wife ; for, though her brain was weak, it was pliant, and though her heart was small, it was a kind little heartlet as far as it went.

Two years went by as smoothly as possible, and everybody had forgotten there ever had been an old Jake, when, one day, as mother was sitting in her room at work, Clarsy knocked at the door with a trembling hand, and then entered, with her eyes fixed and her lips ashy with fright.

“ Why, Clarsy,” said mother, “ what is the matter ? Do speak, child ; do speak! ”

“ It’s — it’s — it’s old Jake ! ” stammered Clarsy.

“ Old Jake ! ”

“ Old Jake, mistis ! Flesh and blood, and no spook ! wish’t was ! ” and then poor Clarsy burst into violent tears. “ Lord, Miss Kitty,” she said, piteously, wringing her hands, “will I be took up and swung ? ”

“ No, no, Clarsy, of course not. You have not done anything wrong; but it is dreadfully unfortunate ! Where has Jake been all this time ? ”

“ Wal, the first time he come back he got a chance to ship agin right off, and then he was wracked onto a lonesome sort of a place and had a hard scrabble to git along, and after that he went whalin’ a couple of viages, and when he got ashore this time he took a notion to come home.”

“Jake ought to be ashamed of himself,” said mother, indignantly, “not to send you any word or any money in all that time, so that you could know, at least, that he was alive.”

“Lord, Miss Kitty, whose wife be I, anyhow ? for, sartain sure, I don’t know. Jake says I’m hisn, and I know Phil sets great store by me, and I’m afeerd to tell him.”

Father was called in and consulted, and finally, out of pity to Clarsy, assumed the unwelcome task of telling Phil that old Jake had come back.

Then there was a terrible time for a few days. Old Jake was obstreperous and wanted his own, half out of stubbornness, for if he had cared much for her he need not have stayed away nine years ; and Phil loaded his gun afresh in the presence of four witnesses, and swore he’d “kill him if he didn’t clar! ”

Black Ann scoured and scrubbed with the power of an engine from morning till night, singing “Bright Canaan” between her teeth all the time, with a face as hard as granite. She came to my room one night and sat down upon the floor near the door, clasping her arms around her knees, and rocking herself to and fro.

“ You like your brudder, Mars Freddy, Miss Cathy? Do you?”

“Why, Anny,” I replied, “you know I love him dearly.”

“ I don’t care noffink for Phil, I don’t. Poor darky like me ain’t got no feelinks ! ” and she gave one of her defiant sniffs and rubbed her mouth violently.

“Anny,” I said, “don’t talk in that silly way to me. I know just how bad you feel, and I feel very bad about it, too.”

“Do, eh, Miss Cathy? Why don’t you do suffink then ?”

“ What can I do, Anny ? ”

“Tell Mars Lennie to swing Jake ! ”

“ Swing him ! Why, Anny, you can’t hang a man unless he’s guilty, and then it must be done by order of a judge.”

“ Mars Lennie’s a judge.”

“But Jake would have to be tried in court first, and he has n’t done anything wicked that I know of.”

“ He’s ’sarted his wife.”

I laughed, in spite of my perplexity and Anny’s sorrow. “Then how could you punish him for coming back to her?”

“ Well, if you can’t swing him, tie him up and strap him! Mars Lennie’s too soft! 'T wa' n’t so in old marsa’s time ! Mind your manners, or you 'd git cut over! Been tied up and strapped more’n once, myself!” and again she sniffed defiantly.

“ I ’m sorry, Anny; it was cruel; but you don’t want to be cruel to Jake ! ”

“ Yes, I do ! Kill him. I would, if I wa’ n’t afeerd of gittin’ cotched ! ” and she rocked herself to and fro, harder and harder.

“ I’m sure you would n’t, Anny,” I said, “ you ’re not so bad as that. Wait awhile and see what the end will be.”

“ I can see it now, Miss Cathy. Don’t need no specs for that! All the sense that ever I had I’ve got it yit. There’s Clarsy, now, she never had a grain into her! Allers was as sholler as a milk-pan ! Her head ’s like one of these ’ere wa’nuts that’s been lyin’ out all winter : looks like other folk’s heads on the outside; but come to crack it, and there ain’t no meat into it, nothing but a little dirty juice. Miss Cathy’ll see what Clarsy'll do! Miss Cathy ’ll see ! I heerd ’em tell how old

Jake had four hundred dollars stored up in the bank ; and when Clarsy gits a chance, Miss Cathy 'll see what she’ll do ! B’lieve it’s the Lord’s world, Miss Cathy ? ”

“I know it is, Anny.”

“ Lord may be marsa, but ’pears like he’s put Satan in for overseer ! Said your prayers yit, Miss Cathy?”

“ No, Anny.”

“Put Black Ann into ’em to-night, Miss Cathy, sartain sure, will you ?”

“ I always do; but, Anny, you’ve said a very wrong thing.”

“Makes no odds, Miss Cathy! Noffink but poor darky ! Could n’t be noffink else, if we tried ever so hard! You 're good, Miss Cathy, you ain’t bad like Black Ann, be you? Good night.” And before I could answer, with a grotesque movement she had rolled herself to the door, and gone out.

I did not believe Anny’s prophecy when she spoke it, but it proved true at last. Jake had seemed to retire, and yield the victory to Phil, but there were repeated rumors of his having been seen about the cabin, while Phil was off at work in the field; and Clarsy came out almost every week in some new thing or another, which she professed to have bought of a pedler or to have had stowed away for years. First it was a pair of ear-rings, so long, they nearly reached her collar-bone; then a shawl of fiery red plaid; then a huge bead net, which was not half filled out with her short wool, and hung down at each side, making her look like a lop-eared rabbit; then a pair of yellow cotton gloves, and so on, through a long list. Phil may have suspected the truth, but no one dared tell him of Jake’s visits, and Clarsy always denied them.

In this manner, two or three months passed away, and the time for topping the tobacco came. The hands were always very busy then, and those who went to the lower plantation often stayed overnight to save time, and Phil was one of them.

All this time, while Jake was skulking in terror, and Phil half sick with anxiety, Clarsy rode upon the topmost wave of triumph. It was a most novel and pleasing sensation to be a heroine; to keep two husbands trembling in suspense ; to make gossip and excitement for all the neighborhood ; to feel herself noted and important for the first time in her life. She took on more airs than a dashing belle spoiled with adulation, and snubbed the other women in a weak, venomless way, and flirted with the men, and dangled her ear-rings, and would n't feed the pig.

One morning, when Phil was at the lower plantation, topping away in the blazing sun, with busy fingers and an aching heart, there drew up on the carriage-road before the house a very Oriental-looking cavalcade. Old Jake headed it, in a blue shirt, with the oxgoad, or “gad ” as he would have called it, over his shoulder, and a look of dogged satisfaction on his face. Behind him came an ox-team drawing a cart, on which were piled the entire contents of Phil’s little cabin, the feather-bed surmounting the whole, and on top of that Clarsy, in her red shawl, her bead net, her yellow gloves, and blue parasol. After the cart came the pig, pulled along by a string tied to his yoke, rebellious and grunting. “ Did n’t like to clar out, without saying good by, mistis,” Clarsy said to mother, who went to the door; “thought I’d just step off quiet like while Phil was to field. Phil allers takes on so, and makes such a high time! I’m kinder sorry, but I reckon you better give ’em the gad, Jake, for it’s time we was gittin’ along.”

Phil did not come home till the next evening, and then he found a hearthstone cold indeed: no fire, no supper, no wife, no household-stuff; the Lares and Penates clean gone forever, including the feather-bed, the pig, and the plaster parrot. Poor soul! how he raved and cried, and made impotent vows of vengeance. Then he took the molasses-jug, and paddled off in his boat to the “store,” a few miles away. He came back toward morning as drunk as a fool, and so lay on his cabin floor three days and nights, till the jug was empty beside him. The fourth morning he got up and went to his work With bloodshot eyes and trembling hands, — broken-spirited, mortified, miserable, ashamed.

The night that Phil came home from the plantation, Black Ann was missing all the evening. Probably she had gone off into the woods to sniff violently by herself; but when I was just ready to go to sleep, she knocked at the door of my room, and, when I opened it, she looked as vacant and unconcerned as if there were neither sense nor feeling in brain or heart.

“ Said your prayers yet, Miss Cathy ? ”

“ Yes.”

“ Hi! too late, be I ? Can’t put Black Ann into ’em to-night, eh ?”

“ Anny, I always put you in my prayers.”

“ Sartain sure ? ”

“Yes.”

“ I tell’d ye she go off, did n’t I, Miss Cathy ? ”

“Yes, you did.”

“ I tell' I’d ye Satan had the upper hand round here, did n’t I?”

“ You did, but that is n’t true.”

“ Hope to massy he ’s got power enough left to carry off old Jake and that jade Clarsy! ”

“Now, Anny, you must not talk so. I can’t see that anybody has been very wicked. Mother says it was not wrong for Clarsy to marry Phil, when she thought her old Jake was dead; and it was n’t wrong for her to go back to Jake when she found he was alive. It’s very unfortunate, it’s a great pity, and it’s very hard for poor Phil. He’s the one that suffers, for he thinks a great deal more of Clarsy than she deserves. Be patient and good, Anny, and he ’ll get over it after a while. It’s late, and you must go now. Good night.”

But after I had shut the door and was half asleep, the poor creature came back once more.

“ Miss Cathy, won’t you git up and say them prayers again, and put Black Ann into ’em ? I can’t rest to-night, nohow.”

“ Anny, why don’t you pray to God for yourself ? ” “ Lor, Miss Cathy, poor darky like me can’t pray ! Lord would n’t pay no 'tention to me! Like ’nough don’t know there is any Black Ann ! ”

“ Try it and see. Your prayer is just as important in his eyes as if you were the President himself; and if you want rest and peace, you must ask God yourself, Anny. Will you ? ”

“ Ain’t sure, Miss Cathy. MebbeI I will, and mebbe I won’t. But you say yourn anyhow. Wisht I could hear ’em! Could n’t Miss Cathy say ’em out loud ? ”

I was frightened, but I dared not refuse. We knelt down together; I laid my hand on her head to soothe her, and I felt her tremble under it like a leaf in the wind.

As for Phil, he was sober for a fortnight, and then went off again and was drunk two or three days. So the poor creature went on, for months and years. Mother’s entreaties. father’s expostulations, Black Anns coaxings, and Aunt Dolly's scoldings, had not the least oilect on him. He always answered pleasantly ; said mistis was very kind, Mars Lennie was right, mammy and Ann must n’t take on so ; rum was the debbil, and he was gwine to quit; and then, in a week’s time, he would be lying like a beast upon the cabin floor. After a while he was seized with a sort of mania, at those times, instead of a stupor. It seemed as if he drank himself to madness; and then he would leave home and roam through the pine woods by day, and sleep upon the slippery ground beneath them at night. Sometimes he wept and groaned, sometimes raved violently, sometimes was sullen or stupid, but always utterly irrational. Everybody was afraid of him then, and avoided all contact with him. I met him once on the narrow bridge that crosses the Long Marsh ; Lucy was behind me, and there was no room for any one to pass. There could be no one more respectful than Phil in his senses ; but this morning he was crazy with liquor, and he came towards us with a horrible expression on his face, half grinning and half fierce : it was the leer of the devil within him, and not Phil’s own self that looked so. We met face to face, and stood so for one dreadful moment.

“ Get off, you rascal ! ” I said, imperiously, with a stamp of my foot. “ Get off, and let your young ladies pass ! ”

He stepped down into the bog with a cringing bow, and grasped at his forlorn cap with his trembling drunken fingers. “ Please ’scuse Phil, mistis,” he stammered ; “ he ain’t very smart this mornin’.”

I bowed and passed on. Heaven forgive me ! I believe I never spoke harshly to one of the poor, patient souls before, nor ever have since ; but something irresistible within me bade me do so then, and perhaps it was for the best.

Phil’s drunkenness finally became so confirmed that reformation seemed utterly hopeless ; no one attempted any further interference, and his miserable life went on for years without any change.

Clarsy, at first, had a most brilliant and prosperous time with her first and third husband; but after a while, to Black Ann’s intense satisfaction, troubles began to come. The first shadow that fell across their path was that of the pig. It grew visibly less. He languished day by day ; was finally killed just in time to forestall his natural dissolution, and cut up into a very small amount of very measly pork. Soon after that, the feather-bed got moth-eaten, and the green plaster parrot was shivered by an unlucky blow. The four hundred dollars, which had seemed an inexhaustible treasure to Clarsy, melted slowly away and left not a trace behind ; and finally, old Jake took the “rheumatics,” and kept his bed for months and years.

Many other changes had been going on during all this time: Black Ann herself was married and had several children ; and I, her little Miss Cathy, came back to the dear old home one day, bringing with me, from a still dearer new home, a precious bundle of fat and cambric and flannel, — mother’s first grand-baby, my darling little son. Our civil war had been going on then for several years, and the disturbed state of things had made my husband unwilling that I should leave home; but when my baby was a year old, and neither grandfather nor grandmother had ever laid their hands on him in blessing, I petitioned so sorely for leave to take him to them, that my husband could refuse no longer.

I had hardly been at home a half-day, when Anny came up to see me. She chuckled over the baby and patted him with her big black hands.

“ Reel Calvert, you be, little marsa,” she said, — “ reel Calvert! I reckon Miss Cathy don’t think noffink of you, I reckon ! ” and with that she laughed and sniffed together.

I questioned her about her husband and family ; but husband, house, and children could not quench the flame of sisterly love that burned in her faithful breast; and when my questions were answered, she began to talk of Phil.

“ S’pose Miss Cathy knows the good news about Phil, how he’s ’varted, he is ? ”

“ I heard something about it, Anny, but not enough. How was he converted, poor soul ? ”

“S’pose you heerd how that new minister came down here ’bout a year and a half ago, and sot up meetin’s in the housen ? ”

“ Yes, I heard that.”

“ And how Phil got gwine and could n’t stop ? ’Peareed like suffink drawed him right to ’em ! He took on awful, sometimes, he felt so beat. Then he wanted to jine, and Brother Thompson would n’t let him. Says he, ‘ I ’ve heerd you can’t keep stiddy two weeks gwine, and Scriptur’ says, “ No drunkard shall inherit the kingdom of God.” Now,’ says he, ‘the Church of God is the nighest thing to his kingdom on airth, and we’ve got no right to take drunkards into it ! ’ Then Phil cried, and took on termendous.”

“ Poor Phil! I don’t wonder! ”

Anny sniffed twice, and went on. “Wal, then, he says to him, ‘If you want to come in, quit drinkin’,’ and Phil hollered right out before all the meetin’, says he, ‘ I can’t ! I can’t ! the debbil’s got his claw onto me tight!’ Then Brother Thompson got up, and says he, ‘The hand of the Lord Jesus is four-and-forty thousand times stronger than the debbil’s claw! Take hold onto it, put Satan under your feet, and come into the kingdom ! ’ Says he, ‘You can do it, brother ! never fear, keep hold of the Lord’s hand and walkin ! The narrow way is eeny jist wide ’nough for you and him, and no more and no less. Go home,’ says he, ‘and pray on your knees, till you slip out from under the debbil’s grip like an eel! And when you come and tell me you haven’t had a drop of liquor for six months, you shall jine, and we ’ll praise the Lord ! ’ Now, Miss Cathy, what do you think ? ”

“ I think he did it, Anny. I think God helped him, and he is a changed man.”

“Jist so, Miss Cathy. He never touched a drop ; and then he jined. That’s six months ago, and he’s stiddy as a gineral yit ! ”

“ How glad I am ! and how happy Phil must be ! ”

“ Hi! ain’t he though ! allers singin’ or whistlin’ ! What’s more, he ’s got another gal, an awful smart gal, and dreadful pious, too. Name’s Matildy Jane. Lives over to the next plantation. She’s ’mazin’ light-colored, and reads books jist like quality. She’s been a member five or six years, and would n’t take no notice of Phil before he jined. Since that, they’ve settled it betwixt ’em, and, my ! ain’t Phil tickled ! He sets great store by her ! Got his house all prinked up, too ; and if it wa’ n’t for the war, they’d be married right off. But Phil’s got a notion into his scop about ’listin’, and I’m despit feerd he ’ll go. Miss Cathy knows old Jake is dead, don’t she ? ”

“No, I didn’t, Anny.”

“ Lor, yes ! Clarsy had to tend him, like a cross baby, for five or six years. He was all doubled up with the rheumatics, and he jawed most of the time. What does Miss Cathy think Clarsy did after Jake was buried ? ”

“Nothing very wise, I ’m afraid.”

“Took and sent word to Phil that she was in the market agin ! ”

“ Why, Anny ! ”

“Yes, Miss Cathy, true as you live. If she ain't sassy, I don't know who be ! Phil didn’t take no notice of it, but I sent her word that Phil was out of the market, and if she was in, she better stay there. Sich second-hand trash did n’t sell down this ’ere way. She’s got her ear-rings yit, Miss Cathy, and that ’s ail she wants, and Phil ’s got a smart gal that’s got religion and larnin', and if he only gits that war-crank out of his head, he’s sot up for all his days.”

But the “war-crank” did not go out of Phil’s head ; it only went in deeper and deeper. The discussion of the emancipation question had been long and loud, and its reverberations reached the remotest corner of our Western Shore. Colonel Birney had established recruiting-stations in every county, and many of our hands and those from neighboring plantations had already enlisted. It appeared to be a point of conscience with Phil to go ; there seemed to be a direct connection in his mind between his own changed and happy condition and the duty of serving the country or his own race.

“ I’ve had so much done for me,” was his own simple language, “ that it ’pears like I must do suffink for somebody else.”

The feeling was too strong upon him to be withstood, and at last he went to Lower Marlboro and enlisted. There were a few days of leave-taking, a few proud hours of stalking about in his trim new uniform, and then he left his little cabin, so lately fitted up, his friends, his faithful Brother Thompson, his peaceful little meeting-house, and his pious girl, and went away into the clamor and tumult of war.

In the edge of the oak woods, sheltered from the north winds, sloping toward the south, sleeping with their faces to the east, repose the mortal remains of the grandparents, great-grandparents, and remoter ancestors of our family. Outside of the paling which encloses and protects the marblemarked graves of the “ quality ” stand numerous crosses of wood, painted white, and lettered in black. There are no dates upon them, no titles, no words of praise or texts of promise ; only such names as “ Hannibal,” “ Pomp,” “Uncle Harry,” “Old Ike,” “Jake’s Sally,” “ Pete’s Billy,” and the like.

Some of our Northern friends have smiled at their quaint appearance, but they do not bring the thought of a smile to me. They make my heart swell, till it feels as if it would burst; for do I not know all the stories of their patient lives? —who was happy, and who was sad ; who was wronged, and who did wrong to others ; their ignorance, their temptations, their struggles, their triumphs : I know them all. They have left these things far behind them now, and in death there is small difference between masters and servants. Their graves lie in the sun ; the distant murmur of the waves upon the shore soothes all the air around ; they face the east, too, and shall rise at the last day to meet the coming Christ.

But our Phil is not there. We heard indistinct rumors of him for a while, then followed a long interval of silence, and after that came the tidings of his death. We heard that he was wounded, but how nobody knew ; and when he died, or where, no man could tell.

It matters not. There is One that knows and that cares. Dynasties rise and fall ; peace broods over land and sea with dove-like wings, or war rends nations with its slaughtering sword ; whole systems are born into the galaxy of stars, or suns go blazing out into darkness ; and still the mighty Father of all forgets not the smallest need of his humblest child. Their sorrows touch him, their prayers reach him, their tears move him ; he gathers them to himself in his own way; and so it matters not to us how, when, or where he took our Phil.