Among the Pines | Page 9

for melody, and will let him, when he is tired of singing, vary the
exercise "wid de banjo and de bones." This is all he knows; and his
owner, however well-disposed he may be, cannot teach him more.
Noble, Christian masters whom I have met--have told me that they did
not dare instruct their slaves. Some of their negroes were born in their
houses, nursed in their families, and have grown up the playmates of
their children, and yet they are forced to see them live and die like the
brutes. One need not be accused of fanatical abolitionism if he deems
such a system a little in conflict with the spirit of the nineteenth
century!
The sun had scarcely turned his back upon the world, when a few drops
of rain, sounding on the piazza-roof over our heads, announced a
coming storm. Soon it burst upon us in magnificent fury--a real,

old-fashioned thunderstorm, such as I used to lie awake and listen to
when a boy, wondering all the while if the angels were keeping a
Fourth of July in heaven. In the midst of it, when the earth and the sky
appeared to have met in true Waterloo fashion, and the dark branches
of the pines seemed writhing and tossing in a sea of flame, a loud
knock came at the hall-door (bells are not the fashion in Dixie), and a
servant soon ushered into the room a middle-aged, unassuming
gentleman, whom my host received with a respect and cordiality which
indicated that he was no ordinary guest. There was in his appearance
and manner that indefinable something which denotes the man of mark;
but my curiosity was soon gratified by an introduction. It was
"Colonel" A----. This title, I afterward learned, was merely honorary:
and I may as well remark here, that nearly every one at the South who
has risen to the ownership of a negro, is either a captain, a major, or a
colonel, or, as my ebony driver expressed it: "Dey'm all captins and
mates, wid none to row de boat but de darkies." On hearing the name, I
recognized it as that of one of the oldest and most aristocratic South
Carolina families, and the new guest as a near relative to the gentleman
who married the beautiful and ill-fated Theodosia Burr.
In answer to an inquiry of my host, the new-comer explained that he
had left Colonel J----'s (the plantation toward which I was journeying),
shortly before noon, and being overtaken by the storm after leaving
Conwayboro, had, at the solicitation of his "boys" (a familiar term for
slaves), who were afraid to proceed, called to ask shelter for the night.
Shortly after his entrance, the lady members of the family retired; and
then the "Colonel," the "Captain," and myself, drawing our chairs near
the fire, and each lighting a fragrant Havana, placed on the table by our
host, fell into a long conversation, of which the following was a part:
"It must have been urgent business, Colonel, that took you so far into
the woods at this season," remarked our host.
"These are urgent times, Captain B----," replied the guest. "All who
have any thing at stake, should be doing."
"These are unhappy times, truly," said my friend; "has any thing new

occurred?"
"Nothing of moment, sir; but we are satisfied Buchanan is playing us
false, and are preparing for the worst."
"I should be sorry to know that a President of the United States had
resorted to underhand measures! Has he really given you pledges?"
"He promised to preserve the statu quo in Charleston harbor, and we
have direct information that he intends to send out reinforcements,"
rejoined Colonel A----.
"Can that be true? You know, Colonel, I never admired your friend, Mr.
Buchanan, but I cannot see how, if he does his duty, he can avoid
enforcing the laws in Charleston, as well as in the other cities of the
Union."
"The 'Union,' sir, does not exist. Buchanan has now no more right to
quarter a soldier in South Carolina than I have to march an armed force
on to Boston Common. If he persists in keeping troops near Charleston,
we shall dislodge them."
"But that would make war! and war, Colonel," replied our host, "would
be a terrible thing. Do you realize what it would bring upon us? And
what could our little State do in a conflict with nearly thirty millions?"
"We should not fight with thirty millions. The other Cotton States are
with us, and the leaders in the Border States are pledged to Secession.
They will wheel into line when we give the word. But the North will
not fight. The Democratic party sympathizes with us, and some of its
influential leaders are pledged to our side.