Among the Pines | Page 7

white folks brown!
"Den all de week will be as gay As am de Chris'mas time; We'll dance
all night and all de day, And make de banjo chime-- And make de
banjo chime, I tink, And pass de time away, Wid 'nuf to eat and 'nuf to
drink, And not a bit to pay! So shut your mouf as dose as deafh. And all
you niggas hole your breaf, And make de banjo chime.
"Oh! make de banjo chime, you nigs, And sound de tamborin, And
shuffle now de merry jigs, For Massa's 'gwine in'-- For Massa's 'gwine
in,' I know, And won't he hab de shakes, When Yankee darkies show
him how Dey cotch de rattle-snakes![A] So shut your mouf as close as
deafh, And all you niggas hole your breaf, For Massa's 'gwine in'-- For
Massa's 'gwine in,' I know, And won't he hab de shakes When Yankee
darkies show him how Dey cotch de rattle-snakes!"
The reader must not conclude that my darky acquaintance is an average
specimen of his class. Far from it. Such instances of intelligence are
very rare, and are never found except in the cities. There, constant
intercourse with the white renders the black shrewd and intelligent, but
on the plantations, the case is different. And besides, my musical friend,
as I have said, is a native African. Fifteen years of observation have
convinced me that the imported negro, after being brought in contact

with the white, is far more intelligent than the ordinary Southern-born
black. Slavery cramps the intellect and dwarfs the nature of a man, and
where the dwarfing process has gone on, in father and son, for two
centuries, it must surely be the case--as surely as that the qualities of
the parent are transmitted to the child--that the later generations are
below the first. This deterioration in the better nature of the slave is the
saddest result of slavery. His moral and intellectual degradation, which
is essential to its very existence, constitutes the true argument against it.
It feeds the body but starves the soul. It blinds the reason, and shuts the
mind to truth. It degrades and brutalizes the whole being, and does it
purposely. In that lies its strength, and in that, too, lurks the weakness
which will one day topple it down with a crash that will shake the
Continent. Let us hope the direful upheaving, which is now felt
throughout the Union, is the earthquake that will bury it forever.
The sun was wheeling below the trees which skirted the western
horizon, when we halted in the main road, abreast of one of those
by-paths, which every traveller at the South recognizes as leading to a
planter's house. Turning our horse's head, we pursued this path for a
short distance, when emerging from the pine-forest, over whose sandy
barrens we had ridden all the day, a broad plantation lay spread out
before us. On one side was a row of perhaps forty small but neat cabins;
and on the other, at the distance of about a third of a mile, a huge
building, which, from the piles of timber near it, I saw was a
lumber-mill. Before us was a smooth causeway, extending on for a
quarter of a mile, and shaded by large live-oaks and pines, whose moss
fell in graceful drapery from the gnarled branches. This led to the
mansion of the proprietor, a large, antique structure, exhibiting the
dingy appearance which all houses near the lowlands of the South
derive from the climate, but with a generous, hospitable air about its
wide doors and bulky windows, that seemed to invite the traveller to
the rest and shelter within. I had stopped my horse, and was absorbed
in contemplation of a scene as beautiful as it was new to me, when an
old negro approached, and touching his hat, said: "Massa send his
complimens to de gemman, and happy to hab him pass de night at
Bucksville."

"Bucksville!" I exclaimed, "and where is the village?"
"Dis am it, massa; and it am eight mile and a hard road to de 'Boro"
(meaning Conwayboro, a one-horse village at which I had designed to
spend the night). "Will de gemman please ride up to de piazza?"
continued the old negro.
"Yes, uncle, and thank you," and in a moment I had received the
cordial welcome of the host, an elderly gentleman, whose easy and
polished manners reminded me of the times of our grandfathers in
glorious New England. A few minutes put me on a footing of friendly
familiarity with him and his family, and I soon found myself in a circle
of daughters and grandchildren, and as much at home as if I had been a
long-expected guest.
[Footnote A: The emblem of South Carolina.]