"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 then 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 awhile 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 dances, his master accompanying him on a cracked fiddle, till my sides were sore with laughter, and the hostess begged them to stop.

Finally the clock struck twelve, and the farmer, going to the door, gave a long, loud blast on a cow's horn. In about five minutes one after another of the field hands came in, till the whole ten had seated themselves on the verandah. Each carried a bowl, a tin-cup, or a gourd, into which my host--who soon emerged from a back room[J] with a pail of whiskey in his hand--poured a gill of the beverage. This was the day's allowance, and the farmer, in answer to a question of mine, told me he thought negroes were healthier, and worked better for a small quant.i.ty of alcohol daily. "The' work hard, and salt feed doant set 'em up 'nough," was his remark.

Meanwhile the hostess busied herself with preparations for dinner, and it was soon spread on a bright cherry table, covered by a spotless white cloth. The little darkies had scattered to the several cabins, and we soon sat down to as good a meal as I ever ate at the South.

We were waited on by a tidy negro woman, neatly clad in a calico gown, with shoes on her feet, and a flaming red and yellow 'kerchief on her head. This last was worn in the form of a turban, and one end escaping from behind, and hanging down her back, it looked for all the world like a flag hung out from a top turret. Observing it, my host said:

"Aggy--showin' yer colors? Ye'r Union gal--hey?"

"Yas, I is dat, ma.s.sa; Union ter de back bone;" responded the negress, grinning widely.

"All th' Union _ye_ knows on," replied the master, winking slyly at me, "is th' union yer goin' ter hitch up 'long with black Cale over ter Squire Taylor's."

"No, 'taint, ma.s.sa; takes more'n tu ter make de Union."

"Yas, I knows--it gin'rally takes ten or a dozen: reckon it'll take a dozen with ye."

"John, ye musn't talk so ter th' sarvents; it spiles 'em," said his wife.

"No it doant--do it, Aggy?"

"Lor', missus, I doant keer what ma.s.sa say; but I doant leff no oder man run on so ter me!"

"No more'n ye doant, gal! only Cale."

"Nor him, ma.s.sa; I makes him stan' roun' _I_ reckon."

"I reckon ye du; ye wudn't be yer ma.s.sa's gal ef ye didn't."

When the meal was over, I visited, with my host, the negro houses. The hour allowed for dinner[K] was about expiring, and the darkies were preparing to return to the field. Entering one of the cabins, where were two stout negro men and a woman, my host said to them, with a perfectly serious face:

"Har, boys, I've fotched ye a live Yankee ab'lishener; now, luk at 'im all roun'. Did ye ever see sech a critter?"

"Doant see nuffin' quar in dat gemman, ma.s.sa," replied one of the blacks. "Him 'pears like bery nice gemman; doant 'pear like ab'lishener;" and he laughed, and sc.r.a.ped his head in the manner peculiar to the negro, as he added: "kinder reckon he wudn't be har ef he war one of _dem_."

"What der _ye_ knows 'bout th' ab'lisheners? Ye never seed one--what d'ye 'spose the' luk like?"

"Dey say dey luk likes de bery ole debil, ma.s.sa, but reckon taint so."

"Wal, the' doant; the' luk wusa then thet: they'm bottled up thunder an'

lightnin', an' ef the' c.u.m down har, they'll chaw ye all ter hash."

"I reckon!" replied the darky, manipulating his wool, and distending his face into a decidedly incredulous grin.

"What do you tell them such things for?" I asked, good-humoredly.

"Lor, bless ye, stranger, the' knows th' ab'lisheners ar thar friends, jest so well as ye du; and so fur as thet goes, d----d ef the' doan't know I'm one on 'em myseff, fur I tells 'em, ef the' want to put, the'

kin put, an' I'll throw thar trav'lin 'spences inter th' bargin. Doan't I tell ye thet, Lazarus."

"Yas, ma.s.sa, but none ob ma.s.sa's nigs am gwine ter put--lesswise, not so long as you an' de good missus, am 'bove groun'."

The darky's name struck me as peculiar, and I asked him where he got it.

"_'Tain't_ my name, sar; but you see, sar, w'en ma.s.sa fuss hire me ob ole Capt'in ----, up dar ter Newbern-way, I war sort o' sorry like--hadn't no bery good cloes--an' ma.s.sa, he den call me Lazarus, 'case he say I war all ober rags and holes, an' it hab sort o' stuck ter me eber sense. I war a'mighty bad off 'fore dat, but w'en I c.u.m down har I gets inter Abr'am's buzzum, I does;" and here the darky actually reeled on his seat with laughter.

"Is this woman your wife?" I asked.

"No, sar; my wife 'longs to Cunnel J----; dat am my new wife--my ole wife am up dar whar I c.u.m from!"

"What! have you two wives?"

"Yas, ma.s.sa, I'se two."

"But that's contrary to Scripture."

"No, sar; de Cunnel say 'tain't. He say in Scriptur' dey hab a heap ob'

'em, and dat n.i.g.g.e.rs kin hab jess so many as dey likes--a hun'red ef dey want ter."

"Does the Colonel teach that to his negroes?" I asked, turning to the native.

"Yas, I reckon he do--an' sits 'em th' 'zample, too," he replied, laughing; "but th' old sinner knows better'n thet; he kin read."

"Do you find that in the Bible, Lazarus?"

"Yas, ma.s.sa; whar I reads it. Dat's whar it tell 'bout David and Sol'mon and all dem--dey hab a heap ob wives. A pore ole darky karn't hab 'nuffin 'sides dem, an' he _orter_ be 'low'd jess so many as he likes."

Laughing at the reasoning of the negro, I asked:

"How would _you_ like it, if your wife over at Colonel J----'s, had as many husbands as _she_ liked?"

"Wal, I couldn't fine no fault, ma.s.sa: an' I s'pose she do; dough I doan't knows it, 'case I'se dar only Sundays."

"Have you any children?"

"Yas, sar; I'se free 'longin' ter de Cunnel, an' four or five--I doant 'zactly know--up ter hum; but _dey'se_ grow'd up."

"Is your wife, up there, married again?"

"Yas, ma.s.sa, she got anoder man jess w'en I c.u.m 'way; har ole ma.s.sa make har do it."

We then left the cabin, and when out of hearing of the blacks, I said to the corn-cracker: "That _may be_ Scripture doctrine, but _I_ have not been taught so!"

"Scriptur or no Scriptur, stranger, it's d----d heathenism," replied the farmer, who, take him all in all, is a superior specimen of the cla.s.s of small-planters at the South; and yet, seeing polygamy practised by his own slaves, he made no effort to prevent it. He told me that if he should object to his darky cohabiting with the Colonel's negress, it would be regarded as unneighborly, and secure him the enmity of the whole district! And still we are told that slavery is a _Divine_ inst.i.tution!