"Never had much," said Tidy, laughing. "It's most straight, see;" and she pulled one of the short ringlets out with her fingers. "And I isn't sick, neither; 'tis my 'plexion."

"'Plexion!" repeated Frances, with a tone of derision; "'tis white folks has 'plexion; n.i.g.g.e.rs don't hab none. Don't grow white skins in dese yer parts."

"White's as good as black, I s'pose, a'n't it?" answered Tidy, diverted by the droll manners of her new acquaintance. "I don't see no odds nohow."

"'Ta'n't 'spectable, dat's all. Brack's de fashion here on dis yer plantation. 'Tis tough, b'ars whippin's and hard knocks. Whew! Hi! Ke!

Missus'll cut ye all up to slivers fust time."

"Does missus whip?"

"Reckon she does jest dat ting. Reckons you'll feel it right smart 'fore you're much older. Hi! she whips like a driver,--cuts de skin all off de knuckles in little less dan no time at all. Yer'll see; make yer curl all up."

It was not a very pleasant prospect for Tidy, to be sure; but, more amused than frightened, she went on with her inquiries.

"What does she whip ye for?"

"Laws, sake, for noffin at all; jest when she takes a notion; jest for ex'cise, like. Owes me one, now," said the girl. "I breaked de pitcher dis mornin', and, ho, ho, ho! how missus flied! I runned and 'scaped her, though."

"She'll catch ye some time."

"No, she don't, not for dat score. Specs I'll dodge till she's got suffin' else to tink about. Dat's de way dis chile fix it. Shouldn't hab no skin leff, ef I didn't. Laws, now, ye ought to seen toder day, when I's done stept on missus' toe. Didn't do it a purpose, sartain true, ef ye do laugh," said she, shaking her head at the t.i.ttering tribe at her heels. "Dat are leetle Luce pushed, and missus jest had her hand up to gib Luce an old-fashioned crack on the head wid dat big brack key of hern. Hi! didn't she fly roun', and forgot all 'bout Luce, a tryin' to hit dis nig--and dis nig scooted and runned, and when missus' hand come down wid de big key, thar warn't no n.i.g.g.e.r's head at all thar--and missus was gwine to lay it on so drefful hard, dat she falled ober hersef right down into de kitchen, and by de time she picked hersef up, bof de nigs war done gone. Ho, ho, ho! I tells ye she was mad enough ter eat 'em. 'Pears as ef sparks comed right out of dem brack eyes."

The girl's loud voice, as she grew animated in telling her exploits, and the boisterous glee of her hearers, might have drawn the mistress with whip in hand from the house, to inflict with double severity the evaded punishment of the morning, but for the timely interference of Venus, who, with her clean white ap.r.o.n and turbaned head, majestically emerged from the kitchen, warning the young rebel and her a.s.sociates to clear the premises.

"Along wid yer, and keep yer tongue tween yer teeth, chile, or you'll cotch it."

So Frances, drawing Tidy along with her, and followed by the whole troop, turned into the lane that led down to the negro quarters, and as they saunter along, I will tell you about her.

She was a fair specimen of slave children, full of the merry humor, the love of fun and frolic peculiar to her race, with not a little admixture of art and cunning. She was wild, rough, and boisterous, one of the sort always getting into disgrace. She couldn't step without stumbling, nor hold anything in her hand without spilling. She never had on a whole frock, except when it was new, and her bare feet were seldom without a bandage. She considered herself one of the most unfortunate of creatures, because she met with so many accidents, and had, in consequence, to suffer so much punishment; and it was of no use to try to do differently, she declared, for she "couldn't help it, nohow."

I have seen just such children who were not slaves, haven't you? And I think I understand the cause of their misfortunes. Shall I give you an inkling of it? It is because they are so heedless and headlong in their ways, racing and romping about with perfect recklessness. Don't you think now that I am right, little reader, you who cried this very day, because you were always getting into trouble, and getting scolded and punished for it? You who are always tearing your frock and soiling your nice white ap.r.o.n, spilling ink on your copy-book, and misplacing your geography, forgetting your pencil and losing your sponge, and so getting reproof upon reproof until you are heart-sick and discouraged? I know what Jessie Smith's father told HER the other day. "You wouldn't meet with so many mishaps, Jessie, if you didn't RUSH so." Jessie tried, after that, to move round more gently and carefully, and I think she got on better.

Frances was just one of these "rushing" children, but she was good-natured, and Tidy was quite fascinated with her. It was so new to have an a.s.sociate of her own age too; and so it came to pa.s.s that almost immediately they were fast friends. Now, as they strolled along in the starlight, under the great spreading pines which stood as sentinels here and there along their path, Tidy drank in eagerly all her companion said, and in a little while had gathered all the interesting points of information concerning the place and the people. Frances told her how hard and mean the master and mistress were, and how poorly the slaves fared down at the quarters. Up at the house they made out very well, she said; but not half so well as she and her mother did when they lived out east on Mr. Blackstone's plantation. Then she described the busy summer season, when hundreds of people came there to board and drink the water of the springs. Mr. Lee had built two long rows of little brick houses, she said, down by the springs, where the people lived while they were here, and there was a great dining cabin with long tables and seats, and a barbecue hall, where they had barbecues, and then danced all night long, and had gay times. And there was plenty of money going at such times, for the people had quant.i.ties of money and gave it to the slaves.

The negro quarters consisted of six log cabins, which had once been whitewashed, but now were extremely wretched in appearance, both without and within. It is customary on the plantations of the South to have the houses of the negroes a little removed, perhaps a quarter of a mile, from the family mansion. Thus, with the exception of the house servants, who must be within call, the slave portion of the family live by themselves, and generally in a most uncivilized and miserable way. In some cases their houses are quite neatly built and kept; but it was not so on Mr. Lee's estate.

In front of these old huts was a spring, the water bubbling up and running through a dilapidated, moss-covered spout, into a tub half sunk in the earth, which in the daytime served as a drinking trough for the animals, and a bathing-pool for the babies. Brushwood and logs were lying around in all directions, and here and there a fire was burning, at which the negroes were cooking their supper. Dogs and a few stray babies were roaming about, seeming lonely for want of the pigs and chickens which kept company with them all day, but had now gone to rest.

Boys and girls of larger growth were rollicking and careering over the place, dancing and singing and entertaining themselves and the whole settlement with their jollities and noise.

Is it surprising, we must stop to ask, that the colored people are a degraded cla.s.s, when we consider the way in which the children live from their very infancy. No work for them to do, nothing to learn, n.o.body to care for them,--they are just left to grow and fatten like swine, till they are in condition to be sold or to be broken in to their tasks in the field. Utterly neglected, they contract, of necessity, lazy and vicious habits, and it is no wonder they have to be whipped and broken in to work as animals to the yoke or harness; and no wonder that under such treatment for successive generations, the race should become so reduced in mental and moral ability, as to be thought by many incapable of ever reclaiming a position among the enlightened nations of the earth. Oh, what a weight of guilt have the people of our country incurred in allowing four millions of those poor people to be so trodden down in the very midst of us!

When the children reached home again they found Mammy Grace's cabin quite full of men and women, shouting, singing, and talking in a way quite unintelligible to our little stranger. After she had dropped upon her cot for the night, she lifted her head and ventured to ask what those people had been about.

"Don' ye know, chile? We's had a praisin'-meetin'. We has 'em ebery week, one week it's here, and one week it's ober to General Doolittle's, ober de hill yonder. Ef ye's a good chile, honey, ye shall go wid yer old mammy some time, ye shall."

"What do you do?" asked Tidy.

"We praises, chile,--praises de Lord, and den we prays too."

"What's that?"

"Laws, chile, ye don't know noffin. Whar's ye been fotched up all yer days? Why, when we wants any ting we can't git oursef, nohow, we ask de Lord to gib it to us--dat's what it is."

That first day and evening in Tidy's new home was a memorable day in her experience. It seemed as if she had been lifted up two or three degrees in existence, so much had she heard and learned. She had enough to think about as she lay down to rest, for the first time away from Miss Matilda's sheltering presence.

CHAPTER VIII. PRAYER.

As Tidy grew in stature she grew in favor also with those around her.

Spry but gentle in her movements, obedient, obliging, and apt to learn, she secured the good-will of her master and mistress, and the visitors that thronged to the place. If any little service was to be performed which required more than usual care or expedition, she was the one to be called upon to do it. It was no easy task to please a person so fretful and impatient in spirit as Mrs. Lee, yet Tidy, by her promptness and docility, succeeded admirably. Still, with all her well-doing she was not able entirely to avoid her harshness and cruelty.

One day, when she had been several months in Mrs. Lee's family, she was set to find a ball of yarn which had become detached from her mistress's knitting-work. Diligently she hunted for it every-where,--in Mammy Grace's cabin, on the veranda, in the drawing-room, dining-room, and kitchen, up-stairs, down-stairs, and in the lady's chamber, but no ball was to be found. The mistress grew impatient, and the child searched again. The mistress became unreasonable and threatened, and the child really began to tremble for fear of undeserved chastis.e.m.e.nt. What could she do?

What do you think she did? I will tell you?

Ever since that first night with Mammy Grace, when Tidy had asked her what it was to pray, and had been told, "When we wants any ting we can't git oursefs, nohow, we asks de Lord to gib it to us," these words had been treasured in her memory; but as yet she had never had an opportunity to put them to a practical use; for up to this time she had not really wanted any thing. Her necessities were all supplied even better than she had reason to expect; for in addition to the plain but sufficient fare that was allowed her in the cabin, she was never a day without luxuries from the table of the family. Fruits, tarts, and many a choice bit of cake, found their way through the children's hands to their little favorite, so that she had nothing to wish for in the eating line. Her services with the children were so much in accordance with her taste as to be almost pastime, and the old nurse was as kind and good as a mother could be. Never until this day had she been brought into a real strait; and it was in this emergency that she thought to put Mammy Grace's suggestion to the test. She had attended the weekly prayer or "praisin'-meetin's" as they were called, and observed that when the men and women prayed, they seemed to talk in a familiar way with this invisible Lord; and she determined to do the same. As she went out for the third time from the presence of her mistress, downcast and unhappy, she thought that if she only had such eyes as the Lord had, which Mammy Grace repeatedly told her were in every place, considering every little thing in the earth, she would know just where to go to find the missing ball. At that thought something seemed to whisper, "Pray."

She darted out of the door, ran across the yard, making her way as speedily as possible to the only retired spot she knew of. This was a deep gully at the back of the house, through which a tiny stream of water crept, just moistening the roots of the wild cherry and alder bushes which grew there in great abundance, and keeping the gra.s.s fresh and green all the summer long. No one ever came to this spot excepting now and then the laundress with a piece of linen to bleach, or the children to play hide-and-seek of a moonlight evening. Here she fell upon her knees, and lifting up her hands as she had seen others do, she said,--

"Blessed Lord, I want to find missus' ball of yarn, and I can't. You know whar 'tis. Show me, so I sha'n't get cracks over my head with the big key. Hallelujah, amen."

She didn't know, innocent child, what this "Hallelujah, amen," meant; but she remembered that Uncle Simon always ended in that way, and she supposed it had something important to do with the prayer. So she uttered it with a feeling of great satisfaction, as though that capped the climax of her duty, and put the seal of acceptance on her pet.i.tion; and then she got up and walked away, as sure as could be that the ball would be forthcoming. I dare say she expected to see it rolling out before her from some unthought-of corner as she went along.

Do not laugh at the poor little slave girl, children, or ridicule the idea of her taking such a small thing to the Lord. If you, and older people too, were in the habit of carrying all your little troubles to the throne of grace, I am sure you would find help that you little dream of. If the Lord in his greatness regards the little sparrows, so that not one of them shall fall to the ground without his notice, and if he numbers the hairs of our heads, surely there is nothing that can give us uneasiness of mind or sorrow of heart too small to commend to his notice. I wish we might all follow Tidy's example, and I have no doubt that our heavenly Father, who is quite willing to have his words and his love tested, would answer us as he did her.

She went directly to the house, carefully looking this way and that, as if expecting, as I said, that the ball would suddenly appear before her,--of course it did not,--and pa.s.sing across the veranda, entered the hall. A great, old-fashioned, eight-day clock, like the pendulum that hung in the farmer's kitchen so long, and got tired of ticking, I imagine, stood in one corner. Just at the foot of this, Tidy saw a white string protruding. She forgot for the moment what she was hunting after, and stooped to pick up the string. She pulled at it, but it seemed to catch in something and slipped through her fingers. She pulled again, when lo and behold! out came the ball of yarn. Didn't her eyes sparkle?

Didn't her hands twitch with excitement, as she picked it up and carried it to her mistress? So much for praying, said she to herself; I shall know what to do the next time I get into trouble.

The next time the affair proved a more serious one. It was no less than a search for Frances, who had again been guilty of some misdemeanor, and had hidden herself away to escape punishment. On the second day of her absence, Mrs. Lee called Tidy, and instructed her to search for the girl, with the a.s.surance that if she didn't find her, she herself should get the whipping. It was no very pleasant prospect for Tidy, but she set to her task earnestly. A half-day she spent going over the premises,--the house, the out-buildings, the quarters, and the pine-woods opposite; but the girl was not to be found.

Afraid to come and report her want of success, for a while she was quite in despair; until again she bethought herself of prayer, and out she ran to the gully. There she cried,--

"Lord, I's very anxious to find France. I'll thank you to show me whar she is, and make missus merciful, so she sha'n't lash neither one of us. Oh, if I could only find France. Blessed Lord, you can help me find her"----

She was pleading very earnestly when a voice suddenly interrupted her, and there, at her side, stood the girl.

"Who's dat ar you's conbersin wid 'bout me, little goose?" asked Frances.

"Oh, France," cried Tidy in delight, "whar was you? Missus set me lookin' for yer, and she said she'd whip all the skin off me, if I didn't find yer. Whar's you been?"

"Laws, you nummy, ye don't specs now I's gwine to let all dis yer plantation know dat secret. Ho, ho, ho! If I telled, I couldn't go dar 'gin no way. I's comed here for my dinner, caus specs dis chile can't starve nohow. See, my mudder knows whar to put de bones for dis yer chile," and pushing aside the bushes, she displayed an ample supply of eatables, which she fell to devouring greedily. Tidy had to reason long and stoutly with the refractory girl before she could persuade her to return to the house; and when she accomplished her purpose, she was probably not aware of the real motive that wrought in that dark, stupid negro mind. It was not the fear of an increased punishment, if she remained longer absent,--it was not the faint hope that Tidy held up, that if she humbly asked her mistress's pardon, she might be forgiven,--but the thought that if she did not at once return, Tidy must suffer in her stead, was too much for her. She was, notwithstanding her black skin and rude nature, too generous to allow that.

So the two wended their way to the kitchen in great trepidation, and Tidy, stepping round to the sitting-room, timidly informed her mistress of the arrival, adding in most beseeching manner, "Please, Missus, don't whip her, 'caus she's so sorry."

"You mind your own business, little sauce-box, or you'll catch it too.

When I want your advice, I'll come for it," and seizing her whip which she kept on a shelf close by, she proceeded to the kitchen. Miss Matilda followed, determined to see that justice was done to one at least.