tobacco-juice over the railing and calling to his customers as they rode past to "lite and set awhile,' he ruminated over the possibilities of how upon earth at this late date he could alter matters without appearing unneighbourly. The Captain did get so far as to say in public that "Dab Digges was the hardest man to git money out of in North Berkeley." Besides the mill and the store there was a wheelwright's shop, whither ploughs and waggon bodies and dilapidated buggies retired for repair for indefinite periods, and grew weatherscarred and almost mossy from long hope deferred. There was the forge, too, of a blacksmith, who was always out of coal or "gone away to 'tend his crap," and an Episcopal church, that had of late years found it exceedingly difficult to procure, or at any rate to retain, the services of a parson. Mar'se Dab was a man rough of speech, as has been implied. He didn't say negro, nor even nigro, but always used the word "nigger," which is a variety that, strange as the statement may appear to outsiders, is seldom used by wellbred Southern men, and never by ladies. "Those durned niggers! Mar'se Dab used to be fond of saying, ought to be put right back in slavery, a triflin', no 'count parcel of scoundrels." 66 When he Clover Hill plantation. was remonstrated with upon the African centre he had set up, he used to reiterate the vices and the worthlessness of the dusky race with much greater warmth of feeling than the other would think of doing. But he used to say, "Dawg my skin! I must have a big force of these scoundrels, if I am going to make any terbaccer worth speaking about. I tell you, sir, folks may talk about grass, and stock, and fruit, and suchlike. Terbaccer made old Virginia, not termaters, and, by golly! I'm goin' to hold on by it any way." Now Mar'se Dab did really understand the science of tobacco growing and curing. It was the management of free labour, and the keeping in heart, by judicious cultivation, a limited amount of land, that beat him. Now, in Virginia, it is generally estimated that a labourer is required for every 20,000 hills of tobacco. As the Colonel used to aim at planting 400,000 hills, or about 80 acres, it will be understood that he was compelled to have about him what was a large force of hands for ante-bellum days and a limited estate. For it was not only the tobacco, but the 300 or 400 acres of maize, not to speak of the wheat he had to grow "to bread his folks," as he would have said, and to keep his horses and mules, and milch-cows and hogs. This was mere verbosity. The Colonel would have been miserable if he had not been surrounded by them. Most people in the neigh- To describe the nature of the bourhood agreed, in a great meas- resettlement of Clover Hill when ure, with the sentiments so badly the Colonel went there, we should expressed by Mar'se Dab; but have to enter into abstract disthey acted up to their opinions, quisitions regarding the war and and dispensed as much as possible the negro question, for which there with Ethiopian assistance. But is here no space. We should have the Colonel did nothing of the kind. to describe how the negroes, in the As I have already stated, he col- first burst of freedom, generally lected all he could lay hands on, moved off the old plantations,and established them upon the not from dislike to their former homes, but, as it were, to give themselves a shake, to show that they were free. How, with all this, they generally stuck to their old counties, and to a great extent even to their old neighbourhoods. This subject is such a wide one, the only thing to be done with it here is to drop it at once and revert to the subject of the sketch. When I first knew the Colonel intimately his system was in full blast. I have mentioned that he recommenced his life with some ready money, as he did also free from debt. a year. The true reason of this may perhaps best be given in the words of old Uncle Ephraim, one of the most attached of the bunch. lt was a confidential communication, it is true, and delivered across the boundary fence which separated my own woodland from the tobacco patch on Mar'se Dab's land, which old Ephraim was working. all these years, however, there could, I think, be no sort of objection to recalling some of the old man's remarks. After "Mar'se Dab," said the patriarch, is a mighty good man, but There were two or three years, he ain't like his pa. I bin raised moreover, about that period when with quality folks, and knows what prices were exceptionally high, for they is. Thar ain't no fambly in artificial reasons that traced them- the State as held therselves higher selves to the war. Mar'se Dab's or more 'sclusive than our folks credit was good, and he seemed done useter. But Mar'se Dab! for a time to be actually prosper- Lor'! he don't seem to have no ing in spite of his defiance of respect for hisself or fambly. It economic laws. He came to believe make me feel mighty bad to hear in himself more than ever. He him cutt'n up, a rippin' and a ridiculed his neighbours who sowed swarin' an a hollerin' roun' like the clover and agitated themselves on ordinary white folks at this upper the subject of the improvement of 'een of the county, that ain't had stock. His loudest and most tre- no raisin' wuth speakin' 'bout. I. mendous laughs were got off at the was a bit of a chap down at the expense of a cousin of his wife's, big house when Mar'se Dab were who had set out fifty acres of borned, an' when I heern him lettin' apple-trees in the mountains. When hisself down an' gwine on in sich I last saw that cousin he was net- a way, I feel powerfully moved to ting 4000 dollars a-year from his say suthin. But he's a rough orchards, and poor Mar'se Dab was man, Mar'se Dab, an' like as not in Western Kansas! Well, as I was to burst me all to pieces. It saying, a great crop was the idea 'ud go mighty hard with the ole in those days, not only on Clover Miss' if she wur alive and Hill, but on many other planta- know'd. She'd get after me, tions too. The negroes in the too, fur cert'n and sho', if she neighbourhood would flock to thote I 'lowed Mar'se Dab to run Clover Hill before Christmas-time on without speakin' any. I'll be to try and rent a bit of land or powerful oneasy when I see ole hire out to Mar'se Dab. Many of Miss' at de judgment, when de the regular old Digges servants hearts of all men from Newtown again united their fortunes with the family in this manner. It was noticed, however, that these last seldom stayed more than * The asterisks represent one of those exhortations to which Uncle Ephraim, since he took religion, had been addicted. But sound as was his doctrine, and eloquent as was his language, there is no space for even a sample of it. Upon this occasion, however, it was cut short, and the venerable man's attention turned somewhat abruptly to earthly things, by his mule, which he had left standing in the tobacco-rows, getting his leg over the trace-chain, and showing a disposition to leave the field, plough and all. "Stan' still, sah! What you warnt to be cutt'n up fo'. It look like to me yo' oughter hev movin' roun' enough, and be prepar'd to stay quiet once in a while, an' study over yo' foolishness." Unc' Ephraim's mind, however, was not yet unburdened, for he returned upon another count. cull'd folks, too. Fur a gen❜leman as has bin raised among cull'd folks, Mar'se Dab beats anythin' I ever seed. He don't seem to know more 'bout' em than ef he wur a Northern man. He don't study neither character nor princerples. Everybody layed out to git on this yer place, as they know'd it war a good plantation, an' that Mar'se Dab had right smart money by his wife an a good force of mules. Dis yer nigger or dat ar nigger cum 'long about hirin'time, an' talks big to Mar'se Dab 'bout the wuk he'll do if de boss 'll guv him a house an' land for de comin' year. He runs on mightily maybe about how he's been mindin' a team for his ole mar'se since de s'render, an' how as his ole mar'se was jes fit to kill himself at losin' sich a good hand; but how his wife took sorter ailin, an' a whole parcel of foolishness which Mar'se Dab takes stock in. Den dis yer nigger tells Mar'se Dab he'll be satisfied with half the terbaccer an' a third of the corn; an' as Mar'se Dab's bin givin' half the corn, he thinks he's makin' the finest kind of agreement, not studyin' neither character nor princerples. "It aint Mar'se Dab only. 'Spite of the rumpus and fuss he raises 'roun' him, thar aint no kind-hearted man north of Jeems river, or dis side of the Blue Ridge. I could put up with his rearin' an' pitchin' roun', for the 'spect I bar to the fambly, but, bless grashus! the niggers that Mar'se Dab's c'llected on this yer place! No one ever heern' me say a word 'gainst nobody; but I swar de solemn truth that the cull'd folks on dis yer plantation is "Gord knows whar sich niggers de meanest, no 'countest, crowd of wur raised-up in de mount'ns as niggers that Gord ever made. I like as not." (The supreme conaint altogether 'sprised, for I tempt at such a source of origin, know'd whar this yer north end of expressed by Uncle Ephraim's the county wur befo' the war. I shrug of the shoulders, could only don't hold as what some o' these be thoroughly appreciated by a yer plain white folks warn't mighty local expert.) "Dar's bin a heap good masters to their servants; but o' folk an' a heap o' house-buildin' then a cull'd man as aint belonged on dis yer plantation since de war. to a good fambly, whar is he? He Dar soon won't be a house-log don't know nuthin' 'bout manners left or a board-tree left in the or 'spect for hisself. Now, sah, woods. Dar's bin land clur'd so I bin raised, I has ! I bin raised! nat'ral po' it 'ud skeercely sprout I aint growed up like a sassa- a black-eyed pea in the first crap. fras bush in a ole turn'd-out I mind the time when I usetest to field anyhow! Thar's a heap o' difference 'tween white folks, an' thar's a heap o' difference 'tween It come up yer in busy times. wuz so rank I jest told the JedgeMar'se Dab's pa-that ef he warn ted me to go up cradlin' wheat to Clover Hill, he'd jes have to trade me away fur some one who could do it; for my rheumatics was too bad, and I couldn't an' I warn't agwine ter do it, not if he cut me in pieces fur it. Now, bless grashus the heads ain't within hollerin' distance of one another. "Yes, sah, dar's a heap too many folk on this yer plantation, an' mighty po' kind of folk, too. It look like to me as if Mar'se Dab had been ridin' roun the country fo' a year or two an' skeered up all the meanest niggers 'twixt here an' the big mount'ns, an' sot 'em plum' down in a muss. Sich a stealin' an' lyin' an' cussin' an' rippin' an' rarin' an' tramplin' roun' never wur seed, and yet thar's mo' talk 'bout 'ligion here than most anywhar. To see 'em scufflin' up to the mourners'-bench preachin' Sundays-O-0-0-0-ēē! on "I laffed fit to kill myself las' Sunday when Brer Moses from Poplar Creek was guvin' a open-ar preachin' for the noo church fund. Well, sah, when Unc' Mose' had got through de preachin' he tuk off his felt hat, an' axed me to sukkerlate it roun' for the c'lection. Fo' Gord, sah, that ar ole hat of Brer Mose' passed aroun' from han' to han' o' that bowdaciously 'ligious crowd, and nar a quarter nor a ten-cent piece, nor even a nickel, wur drapped in the crown of it. I saw Brer Mose' face wukin' powerfully as the empty ole hat wur comin' roun' to him again, an' I could see he wur pretty mad. When it got to the man as wur standin' next him, he reached out his han' and grabbed dat ar hat in de biggest kind of a hurry-sorter makin' out as if he wur skeered he wouldn't han'le it agin. Well, sah, Brer Mose' in front o' all de folks fust looked at one side o' de hat an' den at de other, an' den he crams it on his head an' hollered out, Well, bredren, you isn't showin' yo'selves by yo' deeds 'preciative of all de blessin's showered upon yo', but tank de Lord I'se got my old hat back anyway,-dat's somethin' in these yer hard times.' In all yo' born days, sah, you never seed a crowd of niggers look so mean. No, sah; I reckon I'll git on down to the old place agin. Mar'se Ran, so long as he's thar, 'll give me a house and terbaccerpatch. I ain't suited to these times nohow. A heap a hurrain' an' fuss was made 'bout dis yer friddom1 an' that; but I b'lieve I'd as lief things had stayed as they wur.” Uncle Ephraim was, of course, a privileged person. His years, loyalty, respectability, and "dignified manners" procured from him a licence and liberty of speech that are submitted to, the world over, in ancient and faithful domestics. "Durn that old man Ephraim!" said Mar'se Dab to me one day not long after this. "What's he been up to?" said I. "He's the best hand you've got." "Oh, Lord, yes! He's a good enough hand; but I'm blamed if I stand his nonsense any more! He's just been spoiled down at home by our folks, and got to think I can't live without him. What d'ye think he did yesterday? He came up to the house 'bout sundown and said he wanted to speak to me. I thought, of course, a horse was sick or something, and went out to him; and I'll be dorgonned if he didn't stand and lecture me for a half 1 Freedom. hour, and would have gone on for two hours if I'd 'a let him. He run on about my cut'n har, and said no Digges had ever cut har before; and that my pa and ma would get up out o' their graves and ramble roun' in 'straction if they thote I was goin' on so. As sure as I stand here, if the old scamp didn't go on to tell me he was afeared I hadn't any o' the old Digges dignity, and Lord knows what, till I took up a swingle-tree and told the old scoundrel I'd burst his head open if he gave me any more of his sass! 'Oh, that's right that's right, Mar'se Dab,' Kill me, says he. sah-for Gord's sake kill me! I bin yer in this wicked world long 'nuff anyway. I'se made my peace, an' am ready to go right away. I'll suttenly go straight to the old mar'se and missus, an' tell them how yo' cutt'n up an' swarin' an' rippin' aroun'. Yes, knock me on de head, Mar'se Dab; I ain't keerin' much anyway. Folk's ways these times ain't my ways. I nussed you, Mar'se Dab, when you was so small you hadn't hardly commenced to notice. I shuk down apples for you, Mar'se Dab, befor' ever you put pants on. Go on, Mar'se Dab; kill me, sah! You're mad now, an' jes' think I'm sassin'. One d'ese yer fine days you'll say old man Ephraim warn't sich a fule as I thote.' If you'd heard the old fellow, you'd have been powerfully tickled. I shouldn't have cared, but the old man raised such a fuss, a lot of the hands came round to listen." So old Ephraim, the last of the old stock, went, and Clover Hill continued on its downhill course. The Colonel's notions of the capacity of land were drawn from no human standpoint. He ploughed up the hillsides; he ploughed up the bottoms. Noble groves of oak and chestnut fell before the destroying axe on ridges unfertile for cultivation, and that the common-sense of two centuries had left intact. So it was year after year, red-land and grey-land, upland and bottom, turned and heaved unceasingly beneath the recklessly driven ploughs. Year after year the axe rang, and the toppling trees crashed for new tobacco-ground. The negroes sang and shouted, and Mar'se Dab holloaed and stormed, happy in the pandemonium he had created, and hugging even closer, as their evil fruit became apparent, the worst traditions of the past. Tobacco, tobacco, wheat, wheat, maize, oats, wheat, oats, maize, maize— This, I think, would fairly have described Mar'se Dab's method of rotation. This amazing tax upon the soil was not modified by any outside assistance. Some phosphate or stimulating fertiliser. of some kind was dropped in the hill with the second crop of tobacco; but the Colonel's favourite dictum was that "commercial fertilisers would break any man." There was, however, an immense bank of barnyard manure accumulated round the stables, scorched by the suns and bleached by the rains, it is true, of many years, but still by no means valueless. Never, Mar'se Dab declared, when twitted by his friends upon the subject, could he find time to devote his waggons and horses to such a secondary matter. The rotation above formulated with tolerable accuracy covers, it will be noticed, some ten years. This was about the length of Mar'se Dab's reign at Clover Hill, the year of collapse, when the longsuffering soil at last gave out in indignation, and absolutely refused to bear further the burden so unjustly laid upon it, and Clover |