The Continental Monthly, Vol. 2, No. 2, August, 1862 | Page 6

a stranger in these parts.'
She tendered me a chair; while her husband opened a sideboard, and brought forth a box of Havanas and a decanter of Scuppernong. As I took the proffered seat, he offered me the refreshments. I drank the lady's health in the wine, but declined the cigars. Seeing this, she remarked:
'Yer from th' North, sir, arn't ye?'
'Yes, madam, I live in New-York; but I was born in New-England.'
'I reckoned so; I knew ye didn't belong in Car'lina.'
'How did you know that, madam?' I asked, laughing.
'I seed ye doan't smoke 'fore wimmin. But ye mustn't mind me; I sort o' likes it; it's a great comfut to John, and may be it ar to ye.'
'Well, I do relish a good cigar; but I never smoke before any lady except my wife, and though she's only 'a little lower than the angels,' she does, once in a while, say it's a shame to make the house smell like a tobacco-factory.'
Barnes handed me the box again, and I took one. As I was lighting it, he said:
'Ye've got a good 'oman, hev ye?'
'There's none better; at least, I think so.'
'Wal, I'm 'zactly uv thet 'pinion 'bout mine; I wouldn't trade her fur all this worle an' th' best half uv t'other.'
'Don't ye talk so, John,' said the lady. Then addressing me, she added: 'It's a good husband thet makes a good wife, sir.'
'Sometimes, madam, but not always, I've known some of the best of wives who had miserable husbands.'
'An' I'm d--d ef I made my wife th' 'oman she ar',' said the corn-cracker.
'Hush, John, ye mustn't swar so; ye knows how often ye've said ye wouldn't.'
'Wal, I du, an' I won't agin, by--.' But Sukey, whar's th' young uns?'
'Out in the lot, I reckon; but ye mustn't holler'm in--they'r all dirt.'
'No matter for that, madam,' I said, 'dirt is healthy for little ones; rolling in the mud makes them grow.'
'Then ourn orter grow right smart, fur they'r in it allers.'
'How many have you, madam?'
'Two; a little boy, four, and a little gal, six.'
'They're of interesting ages.'
'Yas, the' is int'restin'; ev'ry uns own chil'ren is smart; but the' does know a heap. John was off ter Charl'ston no great while back, an' the little boy used ter pray ev'ry mornin' an' ev'nin' fur his fader ter cum hum. I larned 'em thet jest so soon as the' talked, 'cause thar's no tellin' how quick the' moight be tooken 'way. Wal, the little feller prayed ev'ry mornin' an' ev'nin' fur his fader ter cum back, and John didn't cum; so finarly he got sort o' provoked with th' Lord, an' he said God war aither deaf an' couldn't har or he war naughty an' wouldn't tell fader thet little Johnny wanted to seed 'im 'werry mooch,'' and here the good lady laughed pleasantly, and I joined in most heartily.
Blessed are the children that have such a mother!
Soon the husband returned with the little girl and boy and four young ebonies, all bare-headed and all dressed alike, in thick trowsers and a loose linsey shirt. Among them was my new acquaintance, 'Dandy Jim, of ole Car'lina.'
The little girl came to me, and soon I had two white children on one knee and two black on the other, with Dandy Jim between my legs, playing with my watchchain. The family made no distinction between the colors, and as the children were all equally clean, I did not see why I should do so.
The lady renewed the conversation by remarking: 'P'raps ye reckon it's quar, sir, that we 'low ourn to 'sociate 'long with th' black chil'ren; but we karn't help it. On big plantations, it works sorry bad, fur th' white young uns larn all manner of evil from the black uns; but I've laboored ter teach ourn so one won't do no harm ter t'other.'
'I suppose, madam, that is one of the greatest evils of slavery. The low black poisons the mind of the white child, and the bad influence lasts through life.'
'Yas, it's so, stranger; an' it's the biggest keer I hev. It often 'pears strange ter me thet our grow'd up men arn't no wuss than the' is.'
In those few words, that unlettered woman had said what would--if men were but wise enough to hear and heed the great truth which she spoke--banish slavery from this continent forever!
After a while, the farmer told the juvenile delineator of Mrs. Hemans and the other poets to give us a song; and planting himself in the middle of the floor, the little darky sang 'Dixie' and several other negro songs, which his master had taught him, but into which he had introduced some amusing variations of his own. The other children joined in the choruses; and then Jim danced breakdowns, 'walk-along-Joes,' and other darky