A Gentleman Vagabond and Some Others | Page 4

room, laid a tray of cigars and cigarettes with a small silver alcohol lamp at my elbow, and, with a certain inquiring and, I thought, slightly surprised glance at the major's sprawling attitude, noiselessly withdrew. The major must have caught the expression on Jefferson's face, for he dropped his telescope leg, and straightened up his back, with the sudden awkward movement of a similarly placed lounger surprised by a lady in a hotel parlor. The episode seemed to knock the enthusiasm out of him, for after a moment he exclaimed in rather a subdued tone:--
"Rather remarkable nigger, this servant of Jack's. I s'pose it is the influence of yo' New York ways, but I am not accustomed to his kind."
I began to defend Jefferson, but he raised both hands in protest.
"Yes, I know--education and thirty dollars a month. All very fine, but give me the old house-servants of the South--the old Anthonys, and Keziahs, and Rachels. They never went about rigged up like a stick of black sealing-wax in a suit of black co't-plaster. They were easy-goin' and comfortable. Yo' interest was their interest; they bore yo' name, looked after yo' children, and could look after yo' house, too. Now see this nigger of Jack's; he's better dressed than I am, tips round as solemn on his toes as a marsh-crane, and yet I'll bet a dollar he's as slick and cold-hearted as a high-water clam. That's what education has done for him.
"You never knew Anthony, my old butler? Well, I want to tell you, he was a servant, as was a servant. During Mrs. Slocomb's life"--here the major assumed a reminiscent air, pinching his fat chin with his thumb and forefinger--"we had, of co'se, a lot of niggers; but this man Anthony! By gravy! when he filled yo' glass with some of the old madeira that had rusted away in my cellar for half a century,"--here the major now slipped his thumb into the armhole of his vest,--"it tasted like the nectar of the gods, just from the way Anthony poured it out.
"But you ought to have seen him move round the table when dinner was over! He'd draw himself up like a drum-major, and throw back the mahogany doors for the ladies to retire, with an air that was captivatin'." The major was now on his feet--his reminiscent mood was one of his best. "That's been a good many years ago, colonel, but I can see him now just as plain as if he stood before me, with his white cotton gloves, white vest, and green coat with brass buttons, standin' behind Mrs. Slocomb's chair. I can see the old sidebo'd, suh, covered with George III. silver, heirlooms of a century,"--this with a trance-like movement of his hand across his eyes. "I can see the great Italian marble mantels suppo'ted on lions' heads, the inlaid floor and wainscotin'."--Here the major sank upon the divan again, shutting both eyes reverently, as if these memories of the past were a sort of religion with him.
"And the way those niggers loved us! And the many holes they helped us out of. Sit down there, and let me tell you what Anthony did for me once." I obeyed cheerfully. "Some years ago I received a telegram from a very intimate friend of mine, a distinguished Baltimorean,--the Nestor of the Maryland bar, suh,--informin' me that he was on his way South, and that he would make my house his home on the followin' night." The major's eyes were still shut. He had passed out of his reverential mood, but the effort to be absolutely exact demanded concentration.
"I immediately called up Anthony, and told him that Judge Spofford of the Supreme Co't of Maryland would arrive the next day, and that I wanted the best dinner that could be served in the county, and the best bottle of wine in my cellar." The facts having been correctly stated, the major assumed his normal facial expression and opened his eyes.
"What I'm tellin' you occurred after the war, remember, when putty near everybody down our way was busted. Most of our niggers had run away,--all 'cept our old house-servants, who never forgot our family pride and our noble struggle to keep up appearances. Well, suh, when Spofford arrived Anthony carried his bag to his room, and when dinner was announced, if it was my own table, I must say that it cert'ly did fa'rly groan with the delicacies of the season. After the crabs had been taken off,--we were alone, Mrs. Slocomb havin' gone to Baltimo',--I said to the judge: 'Yo' Honor, I am now about to delight yo' palate with the very best bottle of old madeira that ever passed yo' lips. A wine that will warm yo' heart, and unbutton the top button of