Mam Lyddys Recognition | Page 3

of hereditary hospitality ate deeply into what the war had left,
and after the death of old Colonel French and Mrs. French, and the
division of the estate, there was little left but the land, and that was
encumbered.
Happily, Cabell Graeme was sufficiently successful as a lawyer, not
only to keep his little family in comfort, but to receive an offer of a
connection in the North, which made it clearly to his interest to go there.
One of the main obstacles in the way of the move was Mam' Lyddy.
She would have gone with them, but for the combined influences of
Old Caesar and a henhouse full of hens that were sitting. The old man
was in his last illness, and a slow decline, and the chickens would soon
be hatched. Since, however, it was apparent that old Cæsar would soon
be gone, as that the chickens would soon be hatched, Graeme having
arranged for Cæsar's comfort, took his family with him when he
moved.
He knew that the breaking-up would be a wrench; but it was worse than
he had expected, for their roots were deep in the old soil. Old friends,
when they said good-by, wrung his hand with the faces men wear when
they take a last look at a friend's face. The parting with the mammy was
especially bitter. It brought the break-up home as few things had done.
And when Mr. and Mrs. Graeme reached their new home with its
strange surroundings, her absence made it all the stranger.
The change in the servants marked the change in the life. The family
found it hard to reconcile themselves to it. Mrs. Graeme had always
been accustomed to the old servants, who were like members of the
family, and to find her domestics regarding her as an enemy or as their

prey disturbed and distressed her.
"You are going to try colored servants?" asked one of her new friends
in some surprise.
"Oh, yes, I am quite used to them."
"Well.--Perhaps--but I doubt if you are used to these."
Mrs. Graeme soon discovered her mistake. One after another was tried
and discarded. Those who knew nothing remained until they had
learned enough to be useful and then departed, while those who knew a
little thought they knew everything and brooked no direction. And all
were insolent. With or without notice the dusky procession passed
through the house, each out-goer taking with her some memento of her
transient stay.
"I do not know what is the matter," sighed Mrs. Graeme. "I always
thought I could get along with colored people; but somehow these are
different. Why is it, Cabell!"
"Spoiled," said her husband, laconically. "The mistake was in the
emancipation proclamation. Domestic servants ought to have been
excepted."
His humor, however, did not appeal to his wife. The case was too
serious.
"The last one I had told me, that if I did not like what she called
coffee--and which I really thought was tea--I 'd better cook for myself.
And that other maid, after wearing one of my best dresses, walked off
with a brand-new waist. I am only standing the present one till Mammy
comes. She says she likes to be called 'Miss Johnson.'"
"I paid twenty dollars last week for the privilege of chucking a dusky
gentleman down the steps; but I did not begrudge it," said her husband,
cheerfully. "The justice who imposed the fine said to me afterward that
the only mistake I had made was in not breaking his neck."

*****
At last, old Caesar was gathered to his dusky fathers, and the chickens
having been mainly disposed of, Mr. Graeme went down and brought
the old mammy on.
He had written the old woman to come by a certain train to Washington
where he would meet her, and true to his appointment he met that train.
But in the motley throng that filed through the gate was no Mam'
Lyddy, and inquiring of the train men showed that no one answering to
her description could have been on the train.
Just as Graeme was turning away to go to the telegraph desk, one of the
gray-clad colored porters, a stout, middle-aged man with a pleasant
voice, and the address of a gentleman, approached him,
"Were you looking for some one, sir?"
"Yes, for an old colored woman, my wife's old mammy."
"Well, I think you may find her in the inner waiting-room. There is an
old lady in there, who has been waiting there all day. She came in on
the morning train, and said she was expecting you. If you will come
with me, I will show you."
"She 's been there all day," the porter said, with a laugh, as they walked
along. "I asked who she