The Old Dominion

CHAPTER VII. CHAPTER VII. When I came down from my room, I found Miss Thornton and Miss Davenport already in riding costume, Mr. Byles preparing to accompany us, and Mrs. Thornton and Mr. Hubbard settling that they would drive over in the carriage, tête-à-tête ; while before the door were a number of horses of various descriptions, some bearing ladies' saddles, and some equipped for men. Behind the train was a good large, roomy vehicle, of a very comfortable but old-fashioned form, into which sundry servants of various hues were placing those baskets and packages by the agency of which, I doubted not, Mr. Thornton intended to insure a comfortable dinner wherever we might stop.

Having seated the ladies, the gentlemen were soon in the saddle; and away we went at full speed, as if there had been a fox before us, across the little bridge, and up the road towards the highway. As long as we had anything like green herbs beneath our feet, this was all very well; but when we came upon the public road, the dust soon compelled us to slacken our pace and proceed more leisurely. The party fell speedily into what I suppose was its natural arrangement: Mr. Byles riding beside Miss Thornton; I accompanying her fair cousin; and Mr. Thornton himself falling behind to give some directions to his eldest boy, who accompanied us on a beautiful dark chestnut pony--which, by the way, had an awkward habit of throwing out her hoofs at anything which might come behind her, and was consequently quite as well in the rear.

Miss Davenport, as we went, was as gay as a lark; and, in the spirit of light badinage with which she had begun the day, contrived to tease me very heartily all the way that we went. I found that she was exceedingly well read, especially in modern history, and she managed to twist and turn a great many of the acts and deeds of Old England in such a manner as more than once to put me on the defensive somewhat warmly; and then she would laugh till her eyes almost ran over, and declare that Englishmen never could bear to hear a word said against their country. Positively, I was not certain, in the end, whether I did not hate her mortally.

On the whole, however, I was not sorry to hear what Americans really thought of many of our doings; and I doubted not in the least that Miss Davenport's views were but the reflex of those most generally entertained. In them there was much of prejudice undoubtedly; many of her facts were wrong; many of the inferences unjust; and, almost always, the motives were, I may say, ridiculously distorted. Purposes and objects which never entered into the head of any one Briton from the Land's End to John O'Groat's House, were ascribed to the whole nation as coolly and positively as if they were demonstrated certainties. Still, her free-spoken comments gave me an insight into the feelings with which a great part of the American people regard my countrymen, and which is politely concealed from us in ordinary society.

The scenery through which we passed was rather flat and monotonous, and the forest in general shut out all distant prospects.

Nothing of any very great interest struck me by the way, except, indeed, the profusion and beautiful variety of the wild flowers, still in bloom, and the occasional gush of some delicious odour from the woods as we rode along. Birds of gorgeous plumage, too, were flitting amongst the trees; but, oh! how I longed for the delightful spring sounds of England--the voice of the thrush, the blackbird, and the lark. I would have given all the gay feathers of the birds in sight for even one song of the robin. There was a bird, indeed, which did, now and then, utter one or two solitary notes, as if he would fain have sung if he had known how; and Miss Davenport praised his voice as if he had been a nightingale. "You do not call that singing?" I said; and when I tried to give her some idea of the music of our woods, she declared it was all prejudice, and that I was determined not to like anything in America.

I had an account to settle with her, however, and I resolved not to lose any opportunity. Shortly after, a small bird of rather graceful form flew from one branch of a tree to another, mewing like a cat as it went, and I quietly asked her if that was a singing bird also. "Pshaw!" she cried; and, touched for once, struck her horse with the whip, and dashed on towards a gate, at which the two who had preceded us had already arrived. "Soberly, soberly, Bessy!" ejaculated Mr. Thornton from behind. "Don't set off like a mad thing." "As soberly as I can," replied Miss Davenport, laughing; "but this man provokes me--he is so intensely English." "Thank God!" I ejaculated as I passed on. "For what?" asked the gay girl, half laughing, half pouting. "First for being intensely English," I replied; "and, secondly, for having provoked you. It was exactly what I wished; for, to say the truth, Miss Davenport, I thought it was high time I should have my turn." "Then I shall sulk," she said. And not a word more did she speak till, passing barns and stables, and sundry other outbuildings, the uses and purposes of which I cannot pretend to describe, we arrived at the door of a large, square, red brick house, much like, in some respects, that of Mr. Thornton himself. Before the bell could be rung, a neat-looking black woman appeared, and told us that the family (that is to say, the family who had hired the plantation) were in Richmond; but upon our object being explained, she very civilly told us to come in, and that we were quite welcome to look over the house and premises as much as ever we pleased. "I shall stay here with Hal, and wait until the carriage comes up," said Mr. Thornton; "but you can go in and look around. Show him the portraits in the dining-room, Bessy."

Miss Davenport made no answer; but Louisa Thornton and her swain had already entered; and while she followed them, I followed her, almost mechanically. Mr. Byles man[oe]uvred like a general, and contrived to lead his fair companion exactly in the opposite direction to that in which we were going; but Miss Davenport, in obedience to her uncle's commands, took her way at once to the dining-room, which we entered by the third door on the left. She said nothing, but looked quite grave, while I opened the closed shutters, and let in the daylight. It seemed to me that she was carrying on her sulky humour seriously; and, returning from the window, I held out my hand to her, saying-- "Let us make peace."

She started; but gave me her hand, answering,-- "You are mistaken, cousin, I think. You cannot suppose that I am so silly as to turn jest into earnest--at least I hope not. But I cannot be gay here. This place is full of memories to me. In it all the earlier part of my life was spent, under the care of that dear and wise old lady." And she pointed with her hand to one of two pictures which hung over the large mantelpiece. "They are very happy memories, it is true," she continued; "yet, my dear cousin, it strikes me that memory has the effect of moonlight, softening the harsher things of life, and saddening the brighter."

The heart of Bessy Davenport was speaking now. I had got the key, and I never lost it again. "It is very true," I answered gravely. "My own early years were very happy ones. I love the spots where they passed; I like to dwell upon their memories, but it is with a sort of mournful pleasure. Man, with his eager aspirations for new things, never loves to lose aught of that which he has once possessed; and often, when I sit by the fireside with my sister, in the old hall, she and I fall into reveries, longing both of us, I know, to give back tangible life and human energy to those who once sat there with us, and substance and reality to the spectres of remembrance. But, indeed, I knew not that this had been your early home; otherwise I do not think I should have let you come here with us." "Oh, yes," she answered; "I am very fond of spending long hours here. My mother died when I was four years old; my father died before her. There was some dispute about my property; my cousin Robert tried hard to cheat me out of everything; and this was judged the best home for me during my early youth. A happier home it could not have been; for dear Aunt Bab would never send me to school, but taught me almost everything herself that she could teach, and said she was determined to make an English lady of me. You know that is impossible," she added, with one of her light smiles; "the rebel blood is too strong in me for that." "And who is that gentleman?" I asked, pointing to the other picture which hung over the mantel, and which represented a fine-looking old man in a blue uniform. "Oh, that is Colonel Thornton," she replied. "They are both fine pictures; the one by Copley, the other by Stuart. But there is a third you should look at, by some English artist, I do not know whom." And she turned towards the opposite wall.

There, to my surprise, I beheld a perfect and masterly copy of the portrait of my own father which hangs up in our hall. As I gazed at it, I just caught Miss Davenport's eyes turning from the picture to my own face; and the next moment she said, "Should I have needed anything but that picture, Sir Richard, to tell me who you really are?"

I felt something rising in my eyes, as I gazed here, in a foreign land, at the features which I had so often stood to contemplate in my own home, and remembered that picture was a pledge of early affection between brother and sister which had existed unbroken to the end of life. I quietly drew Miss Davenport's arm through my own and turned away out of the room.

She said nothing for some minutes, but seemed unconsciously to take her way up the stairs where we could hear the voices of Miss Thornton and Mr. Byles, apparently in very gay conversation. At the first landing she stopped, however, saying, "And so you have a sister? I am very glad of it. Having a sister humanizes a man, and gives him something to think about besides himself." "I have, indeed, a very dear and very beautiful sister," I replied. "But do you not think, Miss Davenport, that having a wife might humanize a man as well as having a sister?" "Ah!" she cried, looking up with one of her gay smiles again, "are you a married man, then, Sir Richard?" "No," I answered, "I am not so happy. But pray answer my question?" "And is your sister married?" she asked. "No, indeed," I replied; "but she is six years younger than I am. And now answer my question, as I have answered yours." "No, no," she responded, "not now. My answer would have to be a saucy one, and I cannot make such here." "Well, then, perhaps, I may ask it somewhere else," I said, laughing.

What force she attributed to my words I knew not, but she quietly slipped her arm out of mine, and ran up the other flight of steps.

As we reached the top, we heard, through the window, at the end of the long corridor which we had now reached, the sound of carriage-wheels below, and, looking out, we saw Mr. Hubbard handing Mrs. Thornton from the carriage, while Mr. Thornton was giving various directions to the servants. "I fear my aunt will make herself ill with this jaunt," said Miss Davenport, evidently a little desirous of changing the conversation. "She is in very delicate health. Does it not strike you, Sir Richard, that American ladies are very weakly creatures, compared with Englishwomen? I must make an exception in my own favour; for Aunt Bab used to make me walk five or six miles a day, or ride, or skip, or take one sort of violent exercise or another during half of my time. In everything else I was quite a spoiled child; but in this she was inexorable, and I am reaping the benefit of it now." "I have, indeed, remarked," I said, "that the ladies of this country are not so strong as those of Europe; but I cannot help thinking that the climate is more enervating." "Not a bit of it," she cried; "that is one of your prejudices again, I am sure. We get feeble and delicate because we take no exercise, and live altogether in a sort of artificial manner. It is worse in the South than in the North a great deal, because here, with the multitude of servants we have, a southern girl hardly learns the use of her feet or her hands. The only time for exercising the first is at a ball, and the second when she plays on the piano. She gets up in the morning, and sits down in an armchair, and says, 'Julia, bring me my slippers; Susannah, comb my hair;' and so the whole day goes on. Climate has nothing to do with it. It is want of free air and proper exercise; bad hours, and all that sort of thing. We are up here, uncle," she continued speaking to Mr. Thornton, who was calling to know where we were; and in a moment after, the whole party were reassembled.

We then walked over the house, visited the stables and outbuildings, and made a tour through the negro cabins, which lay at a little distance behind.

The condition, mode of life, and treatment of the negro population in the country, were of course subjects of great interest to me, and as these were the first rural slaves I had seen, I asked a good many questions, in which Mr. Thornton aided and joined me. All the people seemed happy and contented--at least there was nothing to show the contrary; yet, in one or two cases--amongst some of the younger men especially--I imagined I perceived a sort of reserve--a holding back of their thoughts, as if they were either unwilling or afraid to speak out boldly.

I called Mr. Thornton's attention to this fact, as we turned back towards the house; and he replied,-- "It is very possible that such is the case, especially here. The family who have hired the plantation are not Virginians, as I hardly need tell you; for such a thing as a gentleman hiring another plantation in Virginia is hardly known. Mr. Stringer is a northern man, who has bought some property near, which he is getting into order, and on which he is building a house in the modern style. He has not been long enough in the South to understand our ways; and they say his negroes are treated rather hardly, as is frequently the case with northern men, when they first come here. The general prejudice is, that they make the harshest masters; but I believe the cause of their exacting too much is, that they do not understand the character of the negro, nor his capabilities; that they expect from him more than he can perform either physically or intellectually. Indeed, how can they understand all the peculiarities of these poor people as well as we can, who have been brought up amongst them--played with them in our childhood, and grown with them from youth to manhood? The best way for you to form an accurate judgment on these subjects will be, to set out in the morning early, and take a walk alone through my plantation, or any of those in the neighbourhood: talk with the people in the fields or in the cottages; tell them you are an Englishman, and want to know something about them. No man amongst us has anything to conceal, I believe, Mr. Howard; and perhaps you may satisfy yourself that a great deal of unjust prejudice has been excited in regard to the condition of the negroes." "But still I cannot help thinking this slavery is a very great evil, Mr. Thornton," I replied. "Perhaps so," he said, thoughtfully; "yet it is one which exists. It is not of our making; and I can see no escape from it either with benefit to the poor people themselves, safety to the state, or justice to the master. I could discuss this question a long while with you, and may do so some day. In the meantime, examine and judge for yourself; and we can then talk of it more fairly. But it is a subject, depend upon it, which has many aspects; and no man who has not examined it under all, is competent to reason upon it. Abstract propositions have very little bearing upon complicated facts."

I knew there was a great deal of truth in what he said. Such an institution (if it deserves that name), when it has lasted several centuries, and, in fact, grown with the growth and strengthened with the strength of a state, must have carried its roots very deep--too deep, indeed, for any wise man to attempt to eradicate it without great precaution. The case of the serfs in Europe, in ancient times, was very different. There was no outward mark of distinction upon them: they were of the same races, the same classes of intellect, the same capabilities, the same characteristics--as their lords. It was there, class-servage; here, it is race-servage; and the distinction is a very important one. Nevertheless, I was not convinced that such a thing as slavery should exist anywhere, or in any circumstances. But to deal fairly with the question, I resolved to do what Mr. Thornton suggested: to examine accurately; and I doubted not that I should have as good an opportunity of doing so as any Englishman ever had--perhaps better.

As we walked on towards the house, I perceived that the eyes of my host and Mr. Hubbard were frequently turned towards the sky, especially about the south-west, and I saw, in that direction, two or three lines of leaden-looking clouds coming up over the trees. "It is going to rain, my dear," said Mrs. Thornton; "had we not better have the carriage up, and get home?" "If a storm be coming, it would catch you long ere you could get there," replied her husband. "There is a drop or two already, upon my word. Well, 'let it come down,' as Banquo's murderer says. We can but dine here, while it goes on. It will be but a thunder-burst. Here, Harry, run and tell Dick and Jupiter to bring all the things out of the carriage, into the dining-room. We will take the house by storm ; and, in the first place, I will go and summon good old Aunt Jenny to surrender at discretion. Doubtless, as the garrison is but small, she will make no great resistance."

Thus saying, he ran into the house. All the rest followed, and we found Mr. Thornton and a stout elderly mulatto cook or housekeeper, in the dining-room, fully agreed upon terms, and, by their united strength, pulling out the dining-tables to a sufficient length to accommodate the number of our party. To my surprise, the good yellow woman, after courtesying respectfully to Mrs. Thornton, kissed Bessy Davenport warmly; and, may I confess it?--there was something in the universal love which she seemed to inspire wherever she came, which gave me a little inclination to fall in love with her too, notwithstanding the state of semi-warfare wherewith our acquaintance had commenced. CHAPTER VIII. Everything except poetry is pleasant when improvised; and our dinner that day was an example. In less than a quarter of an hour we had on the table excellent cold ham and roast fowls, eggs in a variety of forms, and several bottles of good wine. Fried chickens followed; and though the rain now poured down in torrents such as I have never seen elsewhere,--no, not in the far East; though the thunder roared and the lightning blazed, some times in three or four streaks at once, we were as gay a party as ever gathered round a social board. Bessy Davenport had recovered her spirits; Louisa Thornton seemed resolved to laugh the thunder down; Mr. Hubbard was full of quaint humour, and only now and then expressed a hope that "it would not end in a drizzle," as he must positively be at home before dark; and even Mrs. Thornton, though she now and then put her hands before her eyes, when the lightning was very vivid, congratulated herself at having a house over her head during the storm, and evidently felt the sort of comfort which is most forcibly brought home to us when we distinctly see the perils or discomforts from which we are sheltered for the time.

Gradually the thunder abated; its roaring voice grew fainter, and followed not so close upon the blaze; but the rain still pattered down, making a sort of rushing sound upon the gravel before the house, when, suddenly, young Harry Thornton started up, exclaiming,-- "Hark! They are bringing up the carriage, I think." "Nonsense!" said Mr. Thornton, keeping his seat. "That cannot be, my son."

But by this time both Harry and bold Billy Byles were at the windows; and the next instant the latter exclaimed, thrown out of all softer sayings by his surprise,-- "By jingo! here is Mr. Stringer and all his family, with two carriages, eight horses, and an ox team. I should not wonder if there was a freshet down at the bridge."

Mr. Thornton did look a little abashed at being caught revelling in another man's house during his absence, and that a northern man too; but he recovered himself in a moment, saying--"Keep your seats, ladies and gentlemen, keep your seats. I will warrant your welcome, and we have not yet begun our strawberries and cream."

His exhortations were vain, however, upon the greater part those present; and finding that he could not restore order to the feast, Mr. Thornton rose with the rest; but, instead of going to witness the debarkation of Mr. Stringer's family from the window, he sought an umbrella and went down the steps to hand Mrs. Stringer out of the carriage.

What passed between him and the master of the house I did not hear; but I saw the latter laugh and shake him by the hand; and, a moment after, he re-entered the dining-room, having on his arm a lady about three-and-thirty years of age, who looked scared and somewhat aghast, but, I think, rather from the effects of storm through which she had passed than from the scene presented by her own dining-room, for the sight of which she had probably been prepared as she came from the carriage to the house.

Three young boys, from seven to ten years of age, followed close upon their mother's steps; and at last, after a short pause, appeared Mr. Stringer, in whom, now without his hat, I instantly recognized a gentleman whom I had met at dinner in New York. "Farewell to my incognito!" I thought; but Mr. Stringer's first attention was paid to Mrs. Thornton, and then to Miss Davenport, who seemed an especial favourite both with himself and his wife; and I had time to remark, ere he noticed me, a singular-looking man by whom Mr. Stringer was followed. He could not have measured less than six feet two inches in height, while, from shoulder to shoulder, I do not think the extent was more than a foot. His whole frame was about an equal width; only his legs, pack them together how you would, must still have remained more bulky than his body. His arms were thin, and his hands long and bony; but his face, though exceedingly ugly, and not improved by the ill-cut, long sandy hair which thatched his head, or the rawish white skin that covered it, was highly intelligent, with a quick, eager, grey eye, which ran over every thing and every person in the room in a moment.

The dress of this apparition was of no particular date, and had nothing very remarkable in form. I only remarked that it was all of black, not very new, and that the white cravat rolled round his neck and tied in a bow, with two little ends like a young pig's ears, might have been whiter and, perhaps, cleaner.

While I was making my mental observations upon this gentleman, who still stood near the door without saying a word to any one, Mr. Stringer's eyes turned upon me, and the expected explosion took place. "Why, Sir Richard Conway!" he exclaimed, "this is an unexpected pleasure. Nevertheless, welcome to Virginia, and especially to my house. My dear, allow me to introduce Sir Richard Conway."

While my introduction to Mrs. Stringer was taking place, I know not what bursts of surprise and wonder were going on amongst the rest of the party. All I do know is, that Bessy Davenport was laughing heartily, and feeling, I fancy, a little conceited at being the only one who had discovered my secret. Mrs. Stringer was peculiarly civil and condescending; and I do believe, if I had been a real live lord,--a thing less frequently found in this country than mammoths and mastodons,--she could not have been more gratified to find me in her house.

In the meantime, the rain continued to pour down without showing the slightest disposition to restrain itself; and the party from the carriage gave us a fearful account of the ravages committed by the freshet, which had carried away the bridge, as Mr. Byles had suspected.

The wine on the table, the strawberries and cream, and the remnants of the dinner of which we had partaken, however, proved a very serviceable refreshment to Mr. Stringer and his battered party; so that our intrusion was rather a benefit than otherwise to the worthy gentleman, whose letter, announcing his proximate arrival, had, it seemed,--with a facility for getting lost nowhere more common to letters than in Virginia,--tarried by the way till its writer got the start of it.

Mrs. Stringer indeed was a little fidgety about well-aired beds and sundry household arrangements; nevertheless, we all made ourselves very comfortable for the next hour, while waiting for the rain to pass away.

As, however, it remained obdurate, Mr. Thornton rose to depart; and then commenced, on the part of our host, very pressing entreaties that we would all remain the night; and an exceedingly well-devised plan for accommodating so large a party, was explained to us by Mrs. Stringer on the spur of the moment. Mr. Thornton, however, declared he was obliged to return home; his wife was equally resolute, as well as all those who had come in the carriage; whilst those who had travelled on horseback declared to a man they did not mind a little rain.

Our host and hostess were particularly pressing that at least Miss Davenport and myself would stay; and Mrs. Stringer reminded Bessy that she had extracted a promise of a long visit from her. Bessy, however, was determined to go; and go we did, in as unpleasant an afternoon as ever I remember. It was the will of God, however, that we should not go far. As to galloping, that was out of the question; for the rain had sunk into the earth, and the horses' hoofs were buried in mud at every step. Mrs. Thornton insisted upon taking her daughter into the carriage, and leaving the horse to be led by one of the negro boys. Billy Byles, deprived of his companion, set off across the country as fast as the state of the fields would permit. Mr. Thornton and his son affectionately hung about the coach, which was in danger of being overturned more than once; and, at length, the former suggested to his niece, that she and I should ride on, by a narrow road (which he designated, and with which she seemed well acquainted), both in order to get out of the rain as soon as possible, and to send some oxen from the plantation, to drag the carriage through the ford.

Away we went, then, laughing and jesting; for all Bessy's light spirits had returned, and the rain seemed only to have brought them into flower; but the road was abominably bad, and our progress necessarily slow. The way lay principally through the woods, and every here and there we came upon a drier spot where we could have a canter; till, at length, I perceived, by my old topographic habits, that we must be approaching a little river or stream, which we had passed in the morning. Suddenly we came upon it; but Bessy pulled up her horse for a moment; and certainly the scene before us was not of a character to invite further advance. The banks were very steep, and the descent of the road to the edge of the water nearly precipitous. Beyond flowed the stream which a few hours previously had rolled on clear enough, but with hardly sufficient water in it to cover a horse's fetlocks. Now it rushed along between its deep banks, a turbid, rapid torrent. It must have risen five or six feet during those few hours; and although the surface was still tolerably smooth, owing to the want of rocks or other obstructions of that kind, every here and there was a whirling eddy,--a dimple, as it were, in the face of the stream, which showed with what force and rapidity it was going. "This is not agreeable," said Bessy Davenport; "the river seems resolved to bar our way; but let us try, at all events."

And she began to descend towards the brink. "It is madness to attempt it," I exclaimed: "no horse can swim that current, Miss Davenport. For heaven's sake, stop."

But Bessy could no longer stop.

The ground was of a reddish clay, now thoroughly soaked with the rain; the descent some thirty feet, and, as I have said, precipitous; and though, when she tried to check him, her poor pony made an attempt to resist the impetus his first start had given him, by throwing himself on his haunches, his feet slipped in the mire; and down he slid with increasing rapidity to the very brink of the water.

There he made one more violent effort to stop himself; but it was worse than in vain. A part of the bank gave way under him; and over he rolled with his mistress into the river.

There are times when all thought abandons us, and when instinct--a much surer guide--comes to our aid. But instinct has no memories; and I only know what I did by the result.

I must have sprung from my horse, dashed down the steep and slippery bank, and plunged into the water, before I was aware of what I was doing. It was the work of a moment. Still I had nearly been too late, and should have been so, but for one slight accident. The stream had risen so high that the branches of the trees and shrubs in many places now dipped in the water; and one of them, catching Bessy Davenport's riding-habit, kept her for an instant or two from being swept down the stream. That brief interruption was long enough, however; for the moment I got my eyes above the water, I saw something wavering about near the bank, looking more like a mass of water-weed than a human being. I struck at once towards the object, not doubting what it was; and I remember, at the same moment, hearing a wild, shrill neigh, as her horse raised his head above the current, and was swept past us.

I am a very strong swimmer; the tide aided; and in three strokes I was by the poor girl's side. The moment after, her head and shoulders were raised on my left arm; and, though at first she made an effort to grasp me with her hands, yet, with admirable self-command, she desisted as soon as I spoke; and I contrived to draw her to the bank and catch hold of some of the shrubs.

The next three or four minutes--for really I know not how long it was--proved more terrible than all that went before. They were only like the struggles of some hideous dream. The tree I grasped gave way under our weight, and rolled into the stream; but I caught another as we were falling back,--along, stiff, snake-like vine-stem (they grow here wild to the most enormous size), and it held firm. But the steep and slippery bank afforded no footing, and back I slipped every time I attempted to ascend.

I was nearly in despair; but despair sometimes lends energy and suggests means. The only way was to use the vine-stem as a sort of cable, and to pull myself up by it; but the difficulty was to do so with one hand; for my left arm bore a burden I would not have parted from but with life.

However, I dug my feet into the bank; and though, this time, I got sufficient hold to support me, I knew that if I relaxed my grasp for an instant, she and I must both fall back into the river. I almost fancied at one time, indeed, it would be best to try the river again, and see if I could not support her to some easier landing-place; but before I did so, I turned and looked at her. Her eyes were open and fixed upon my face. "Can you hold the vine for a moment?" I said; "for a single moment, till I run my hand further up?" "I will try," she answered, and grasped the stem with both her hands. By a violent effort, I reached over, and caught the frail thing that supported us some two or three feet above, without relaxing my hold of Bessy herself, and then drew her up, till her feet were completely above the water. "Now, if we can reach that old tree," I said, "round which this vine has been twining, you are safe."

The greater danger was now indeed past; and what between her efforts and mine,--though every step had its peril, and I feared each instant that the vine-stem would give way under our repeated efforts to ascend,--we at length reached the stump of the old tree, which was still rooted firmly in the ground.

There I seated her, with her back against the trunk, and felt fully repaid for all my day's work, when I parted the wet hair from her beautiful forehead with my own hands, and twisted it up behind her ears.

Bessy said nothing; but held down her head and wept; and I easily understood that there was One to be thanked in silence, even before myself.

I gave her time to recover herself a little; but as soon as she began to look up again, I said, in a gay tone,-- "And now, my dear Bessy, I have got to carry you back to Beavors. Thank Heaven, you are very light, and we are not likely to meet many people; for you having lost your hat and I mine, and both having acquired a remarkable portion of mud upon our garments, we are not the most respectable-looking couple that ever journeyed through the world together." "For heaven's sake, do not jest at present, Richard," she answered. "You men cannot feel these things as we women do. I do not believe I shall ever jest again, when I think of the danger I have brought upon myself, and into which I have drawn you. But where is your horse? Mine, poor fellow, is drowned, of course. Poor Ned! I am very sorry for him; but from the way in which he fell, he must be drowned." "Very lucky for you he did fall that way, my dear cousin," I replied; "otherwise he would probably have struck you with his hoof, and you would have been killed. Where my horse is, may be another question. I left him at the top of the bank; for you were in such a hurry, my dear girl, that there was no time to tie him up; and I had much ado to catch you, as it was." "He has gone home, I dare say," replied Bessy; "but perhaps you had better see." "First, I must carry you up to the road," replied I. But for a time she would not consent, saying she could climb very well. Her riding-habit, however, caught her at every step, and at length she was obliged to let me do as I pleased, till I safely landed her upon the road, within sight of the spot where our unfortunate adventure commenced.

There stood the horse, almost precisely where I left him, though in a very different attitude; his head was bent down, his neck and muzzle stretched out almost in a straight line from his shoulders towards the water, and his eyes fixed eagerly upon the current, as, red and turbid, it rushed by. It seemed to me as if, with that strange sort of intelligence which characterizes the dog, the horse, and the elephant, he was waiting for our return, and watching eagerly to see us reappear by the same way we went. "Now," I said, "we can get back more easily; for I dare say, with your country education, you can contrive to ride upon a somewhat unusual saddle, and I will walk by your side to prevent your slipping off." "I could ride him without any saddle at all," said Bessy, with a smile.

The horse was soon caught, and she placed upon his back.

The clouds were now beginning to break; patches of blue were visible here and there, and the rain had almost ceased. I could have wished, indeed, that it had not turned fine quite so soon,--that it had continued even to drizzle a little; for there was something strangely out of harmony with our draggled and miserable appearance in the bright sunshine which soon burst forth. It seemed to make us look more ridiculous than ever. But it had one good effect; for it brought some of the negroes out into the fields, and we had an opportunity of sending some teams of oxen to assist Mr. Thornton and his party across the ford, and to give him information of all that had occurred to us. We coupled the tale, however, with the assurance that Miss Davenport and myself were quite safe, and that all we wanted were dry clothes to enable us to pass the night comfortably at Beavors.

When we reached that place, as misfortune would have it, the whole family of Mr. Stringer, including the tall gaunt man in black, were standing under the porch, gazing forth upon the country refreshed by the shower; and every sort of exclamation of wonder and commiseration burst forth upon us when we presented ourselves, wet, bedabbled with mud, and with total loss of head-gear. "Why, my pretty young lady," exclaimed Mr. Stringer, unable to refrain from a smile, "I hardly knew you when I first saw you coming in such an awkward condition." "It is very lucky that you do see me at all," replied Bessy; "for if it hadn't been for my cousin here, who nearly lost his life to save mine, I should have been twenty miles down the Nansemond river by this time." "Come in, come in, my dear Bessy," said Mrs. Stringer, "and do not stand talking in your wet clothes. You can tell us all about it afterwards."

And with motherly care she took her fair young friend away into the house; while Mr. Stringer himself conducted me to a room upstairs, and offered me all the resources of his own wardrobe. As he was about five inches shorter than myself, and at least two inches less in width across the shoulders, the selection was somewhat difficult. I contrived to get into a loose morning gown, however; and, with a happy thought,--unhappily frustrated of effect,--Mr. Stringer sent a servant to ask the loan of a pair of pantaloons from the Reverend Mr. McGrubber, which I found was the name of his lanky friend in black. A moment after, the negro returned, with a grin which showed his white teeth from ear to ear, saying, "Massa McGrubber's compliments, but he can't. Him's only got one pair, and them's on."

The laugh which followed, from Mr. Stringer and myself, did me fully as much good as the glass of mulled wine which my worthy host insisted upon my swallowing. As there was no other resource, I determined to go to bed till my own clothes could be dried and cleansed, or till some fresh apparel was brought over from the plantation of Mr. Thornton; and what between a little fatigue, the sultry weather, and the mulled wine, I fell sound asleep soon after Mr. Stringer left me, and began dreaming of Bessy Davenport. CHAPTER IX. I was awakened out of one of the sweetest dreams in the world--though, unlike most story-tellers, I will not tell you all about it--by some one coming into my room with a light.

I never was more astonished in my life. It seemed to me I had not been asleep ten minutes; and yet the sun, who had a full couple of hours' course when I lay down, had now gone to bed too, and all without was darkness. Another testimony to the fact of my long sleep, was the face of my good old friend Zed, who came grinning up with a pair of bags over his arm, and a note from Mr. Thornton; showing that our friends had arrived safely at home, had received our messages, and had sent us over the wherewithal to make ourselves comfortable, or, at all events, cleanly. Mr. Thornton's note treated our adventure more lightly than he probably would have done, had he been aware of the full extent of danger; but he recommended me strongly to accept Mr. Stringer's invitation to stay at his house for a day or two, saying,-- "You will be much nearer the scene of action; and, if I am not mistaken, affairs will be brought to a crisis sooner than we expected by the discovery of your being actually in the country. I will be over with you early to-morrow; and, if possible, will bring Hubbard with me. We can then begin the campaign in real earnest, should it be necessary."

Having read this epistle and undergone a number of exclamations mingled with laughter, from Old Zed, I proceeded as rapidly as possible to dress myself, and descended to the parlour, which I found vacant of all but a negro servant, engaged in arranging tables and chairs, which possibly had not been found in apple-pie order by Mrs. Stringer on her return. The man informed me, however, that his master and mistress were dressing for dinner, which, to say sooth, I was not sorry to hear; for though I had eaten one good dinner already, I had somehow contrived in the intervening time to recover an appetite.

The first of the party who appeared in the room was the fair companion of my perils, with all traces of the mishaps of the day obliterated from her appearance, though she was perhaps a little paler than usual. She gave me her tiny little hand at once, saying,-- "I am glad to find you alone, Sir Richard; for I really have not had time to thank you; and I fear you must think me very ungrateful." "I shall indeed think you so," I answered, "if you ever give me such a formal name again. Call me Richard--Cousin Richard--anything of that kind you like; but never use that cold word Sir any more." "Ay, then you are not such a terrible aristocrat after all," said Bessy, with one of her bright smiles. "As much as ever," I answered; "though I suspect not half so much as you are at heart. But, without a jest, Bessy, it is impossible for me, after all we have gone through together, to be anything to you but Richard Conway, or you to be anything to me but Bessy Davenport. Sometimes in a life, five minutes are equal to five years; and by such measure must we calculate in the length of our acquaintance an hour or two out of this day. Is it a bargain?" "Yes, Richard," she answered, giving me her hand again. "I pledge myself to it."

I was just putting the seal upon the compact, with my lips upon that little hand, when the door opened, and in stalked the Rev. Mr. McGrubber. There is a sort of man in every part of the world, who is always in the place where he is not wanted. He is to be pitied rather than blamed, I do believe; for I am convinced it is a sort of idiosyncrasy which is even recognizable in his external appearance, just as particular temperaments can be discovered by the complexion. The moment I set eyes upon McGrubber, I could have sworn he would always be in the way; and so he was.

I have said "in he stalked;" but it is impossible to describe by any words his peculiar sort of locomotion. It was more like that of a snake standing on its tail, than anything else. His long lean body seemed to go first, and then to drag the legs after it with an effort that was painful to behold.

Whether he saw what I was about when he entered, or not, I did not know; and, to tell the truth, did not much care, although I thought I detected that peculiar sort of twinkle in his small grey eyes, which I have perceived in those of curious people, when they fancy they have made some pleasant little discovery.

Bessy coloured a little, and seemed somewhat annoyed; so, to break the awkwardness of the whole business, I turned briskly to Mr. McGrubber, saying, "It has become quite a fine evening again, sir." "I guess it has," replied the worthy minister, sticking his hands into his coat pockets, and spreading the flaps out like a pigeon's tail behind him. "It is warm too. I guess, miss, those bugs that come flying in at the window will knock the candles out, unless somebody does something to stop them." "Very probably, sir," replied Bessy Davenport. "Suppose you try. You are more accustomed, I believe, to keeping peoples' lights burning than I am." "Profanely speaking, nay," answered Mr. McGrubber, who, I should explain to you English people, meant by "bugs" all the tribe of moths and flying insects which literally load the evening air in a southern climate; and he was going on to tell us what lights he professed to keep burning; but before he could favour us with more of his conversation, Mr. and Mrs. Stringer appeared, the latter making many apologies for being late. She had found everything in disorder, she said, and had really had a great deal to do.

Mr. Stringer for his part exclaimed that they kept up the custom of dining late, even in the country, as he found it much more convenient on all accounts; and Mr. McGrubber, who I found was the tutor of the young Stringers, favoured us with a discourse upon the iniquity 'of late hours, which he seasoned with a good number of texts from Scripture, uttered in a very nasal tone.

I cannot say that I was much edified by his remarks, which had a good deal of fanatical impertinence in them; and I wondered how Mr. Stringer could tolerate such an inmate in his family; for he himself, though evidently a weak man, was well bred and well educated, and there was something atrociously presuming both in Mr. McGrubber's manner and in his conversation. It was not that he thought himself as good as anybody else; for that would be very easily tolerated, especially in an American, who, whatever may be his qualities of mind, heart, or position, always looks upon himself as on a par with the best man that ever was born. But that which makes the assumption of perfect equality tolerable, renders the assumption of superiority intolerable; and it was evident that Mr. McGrubber thought himself vastly better than anybody else, and wished every one to understand it. Yet he had not only eloquence of a peculiar sort, but considerable powers of mind, very much misapplied. His reasonings, though full of sophistry, were answered with more trouble than they deserved; for he would twist and turn like an eel. Fanaticism resembles the one book which venders an opponent in argument so dangerous. It is the all-absorbing thought which converts everything around into pabulum for itself. He had read everything upon the two or three subjects with which he cared to deal; he had armed himself with all the weapons of his party, and provided himself with shields and places of retreat against any opponent too strong for him; yet, though he evidently thought conviction defeat, it was not entirely from vanity he strove.

Fanaticism on any subject is, I believe, a mixture of passion and self-conceit; and he certainly was not without the former, as after events convinced me. To all these peculiar traits he added an insatiable curiosity, which he had no reserve in trying to gratify. During dinner he asked me at least a hundred impertinent questions about myself, my family, my object in visiting America, my profession, my age, my fortune--some put in the form of guesses, some with most straightforward impudence; and when, in the end, I told him I did not think myself called upon to gratify the unreasonable curiosity of every stranger as to my private affairs, he answered,-- "Waal, I guess you're right in that; but I should think you did not come over here without some particular business, and any citizen of this republic may just ask what that business is."

Mr. Stringer and Bessy burst into a laugh, and Mrs. Stringer looked considerably annoyed.

Laughter often does more than argument; and Mr. McGrubber was effectually silenced for the remainder of the evening. Indeed, shortly after the dessert was put upon the table, the worthy gentleman, who drank no wine and hated everybody that did, rose unceremoniously, and left the room; nor did he make his appearance again that night.

I know few things more pleasant than when, with a feeling of security upon one, after a perilous and eventful day, we sit down with our fellow-adventurers to chat quietly over the various incidents which excited our feelings and stimulated, perhaps, many a passion at the time, but which have now all the calm of memory about them. Nothing could be more tranquil or charming than the two hours which now succeeded. We talked over all that had happened; we recalled not only events, but thoughts and feelings; and brief lapses would often occur in the conversation when (I know not what Bessy Davenport was doing) I was scrutinizing, though not too closely, certain sensations or emotions of my own heart, a little anxious to know what they all meant, yet unwilling to examine them too closely, lest I should stop them in their play.

Once I asked myself if I was falling in love with Bessy Davenport--with her whom I did not know the morning before, and of whom I could not have said, that very morning, whether I liked or disliked her. But just then, waking out of a reverie of her own, she suddenly raised her eyes, quiet and thoughtful, but full of light, to my face, and I concluded that my question was a very foolish question indeed, which I would never put to my own heart again, but leave that inscrutable inner man to speak for himself when he thought proper.

As our eyes met, a slight colour came up in her cheek, but she rose quietly, saying,-- "Now I will sing you one song, and then I will go to bed, only praying that I may not dream of being drowned all night. What shall it be, Cousin Richard?"

I was incapable of deciding, not knowing what she sang; and so, taking a seat at the piano, she chose for herself a little, quiet, simple Italian air, such as the peasants sing in the Abruzzi, which never find their way into operas, but have more real melody in them than half the opera airs in the world. Then, starting up, she wished us all "Good night," and left us.

We separated within a few minutes after; for Mr. and Mrs. Stringer were fatigued with their day's expedition, and I gladly went to my room with the intention of meditating over many things.

I was disappointed, however; for there was my good friend Zed, ready to pour upon me a whole budget of news, in his somewhat incoherent but voluble way. First and foremost was the account of Mr. Thornton's journey home. How the carriage had stuck in the ford, but had been got out quite safe; how Master Hal had been thrown by his pony into a pool of mud, and come out as red as an "Ingin." Then, what consternation they were all in when the news arrived of the accident which had befallen us; and then, how, just as he was coming away with my clothes, Miss Bessy's horse, with the saddle quite turned round under his belly, had come trotting and neighing up to the house.

This last piece of information was very gratifying to me, for I knew Bessy mourned for her good steed; and whatever interested her was beginning to interest me also. It was never discovered, I may remark, how the poor brute got out of the river; but it is supposed he drifted down to a spot some two miles below, where the eastern bank became flat, and, landing there, found his way home.

Zed, I found, judged the accident which had brought me back to Beavors a very lucky one, inasmuch as the great camp-meeting he had mentioned was to be held within a mile or two of the house. "Ah! massa," he cried, "such meeting as you hear there you never see. Gorr a mighty! I shouldn't wonder if you were converted yourself." "What makes you judge, Zed, that I am not converted already?" I asked.

The poor fellow grinned, and did not seem to know what to reply, finding himself on the horns of a dilemma. So his only course was to sigh and shake his head, as if he thought me in a very perilous condition of mind.

I have remarked, however, that negroes, when they become puzzled with any question, are very dexterous in carrying the conversation off to something else; and so Zed now favoured me with a long catalogue of the preachers who were to hold forth upon this occasion, naming, amongst the rest, Mr. McGrubber, by whom I certainly did not expect to be either converted or very much edified. Two or three other names were mentioned, however, which I had heard spoken of with respect; and I resolved to go, at all events, to witness such a spectacle, at least once in my life, as a camp-meeting must present. Let me use a school-boy phrase and say, I determined to go "for the fun of the thing."

I slept very well in the earlier part of the night; but I can never sleep more than a certain time during the twenty-four hours, and, consequently, with the first ray of daylight, my eyes were open. I felt strongly inclined to lie still and meditate; but as I never indulge such things, where the meditation is sure to be fruitless, I rose, dressed myself, and went downstairs.

The house was still shut up, and nobody was stirring; but, to my surprise, I found two negroes asleep on the benches in the hall; and I afterwards discovered that it was a very common custom of domestic servants, even where good beds were provided for them, to lie down upon any bench or set of chairs they could find, and sleep out the night there, without covering or pillow. The door of the house, too, was unlocked; and, indeed, very little precaution of any kind seemed taken in this country against intruders.

One would think this was an evidence of an innocent and virtuous population, were not the inference contradicted by the long and terrible list of crimes and offences which every newspaper shows each day. For want, then, of any better solution of this enigma of carelessness, I could only set it down to the account of that utter indifference to life and security which is so observable throughout the whole land.

Taking up a stick which I saw in the hall, I walked out, very careless as to what course I followed, and proceeded, I dare say, two miles, without seeing a living soul. It was by this time five o'clock, yet nobody was in the fields--a clear proof that the negroes are not so much overworked, in Virginia at least, as has been generally reported. The morning air was fresh and balmy, rather cool than otherwise, with no indications of the heat which was to follow the higher rising of the sun. The whole fields, and especially the edges of the woods, were gemmed with beautiful flowers; and it had a strange and curious effect to see shrubs, and trees, and plants which we in England look upon as rare and delicate, blooming wild and uncultivated all around. Innumerable birds and beasts--ay, and even reptiles--were fluttering, running, or gliding in different directions; and it was clearly an hour at which the presence of man did not warn inferior animals to seek the shelter of the thicket or the brake.

I cannot say that the aspect of the country was very picturesque. It was a flat, alluvial plain, through which the rivers and streams had easily worn deep channels, as they poured on towards the sea; and it was only on the banks of these that anything like landscape beauty was to be seen. The one I reached that morning, which was the limit of my walk, much resembled that which had nearly made a supper of Bessy Davenport and me the day before. I know not even now, whether it was the same or not. During the warm night, the water left by the rain had either evaporated into the air or had been sucked up by the light and penetrable soil. Everything had become dry, except where the river, evidently greatly fallen since the preceding evening, wended quietly on its way, no longer hurried by the mass of waters pressed within its narrow banks.

By the side of the stream sat a negro, fishing, and as this was the first human being I had seen since I set out, I thought I might as well go down and talk with him. When I came near, I perceived he was one of the finest-formed men I had ever beheld, tall and powerful, with very little of the usual deformity of his race. He had, indeed, the thick lips, the nose flattened,--though not very much,--and the woolly hair of his race; but there was no bowed shins or large hands and feet; yet, as far as I could judge from his colour, he was of unmixed African blood. He did not condescend to lift his head when I came near, but continued his occupation, still gazing upon the glistening but somewhat turbid water. "Have you had good sport?" asked I. "I have caught no fish," he answered abruptly; and then turning round for the first time, he looked to see who was the interrogator. "Is not the water too muddy still?" I inquired, somewhat struck by the man's manner and tone. "Those who would catch large fish must fish in troubled waters," answered he gravely, casting in his line again. "I shall catch when the appointed time comes. Nothing happens, master, but at its appointed time, whether it be great or small."

I confess I was not a little surprised at such a reply from such a man. I had heard of negroes who displayed as great natural powers of mind as men of the white races, but I never yet had met with one. In all whom I had seen there was a certain lack of intellect. Quick comprehension there might be--often rapid combination, cunning seeming to supply the place of reasoning powers; but it was more like the comprehension, the cunning of a child, exercised only upon the objects near at hand, without the power of generalization or remote deduction. In fact, this man's words afforded the first attempt at any thing like a grasp of a wide and comprehensive idea which I had ever met with in his race, and they excited my curiosity greatly. "I agree perfectly with you," I answered. "I am a full believer in a special Providence; yet it would seem but a small and undignified exercise of that Divine power, to make you catch a fish at one moment more than another." "What is small, and what is great, to God Almighty?" asked the man, still keeping his eyes on the stream. "He made the emmet as well as the biggest of beasts; he made the grain of sand an well as the mountain. How can you tell, master, how small events may affect great ones? My catching a fish, now or then, may, by giving food and comfort to a family, allay their discontent; and, putting off its outbreak, induce them to go on in quiet, till some further relief comes--in its due season also. Does not the Bible tell us that not a sparrow falls to the ground unnoticed? Everything is by God's will--everything is in God's time. What is small? What is great to Him? In a universe everything has its proper place, every event its proper moment; and the derangement of the least would destroy the order of the whole. My time, too, will come for whatever I have to do; and I am ready to do God's will, whatever it may be."

I never was more astonished in my life than by this man's discourse. I had heard Hindoos many a time speak in a somewhat similar way; but they are proverbially a thoughtful, speculative, I may almost say a metaphysical race; but to hear such words from a poor despised negro--from one of a class to whom the higher ranges of thought seem forbidden, as well by capability as by education--was very strange.

While he had been speaking he had only turned his face to me once; and when he ceased, I mused for a minute or two, not jumping at a conclusion at once, but asking myself, first, whether he had learned all this from some one else, like a parrot. Rejecting that suspicion speedily, as contradicted by his whole tone and manner, I next considered whether it was likely or unlikely that every faculty of the mind would be equally developed. Grasp of intellect, logical power, he certainly possessed; but a good many (perhaps) subordinate qualities and faculties are requisite to make such gifts available for man's conduct, either towards his fellow man or towards his God. I had nearly come to the conclusion that it was almost certain he must possess them, when suddenly a laugh--the unmeaning, almost idiotic laugh of the negro race--broke from his lips, followed by-- "Ah, master, I've caught you!"

And I saw him pulling a large fish towards the shore.

It seemed that this was all he wanted. He showed it to me with a sort of child-like triumph; and then, throwing away the pole with which he had been fishing, and rolling up his line, he walked some way by my side, as I took my path homeward.

I was anxious to know more of this man, and tried to put him upon some of those tracks which I thought might bring forth the peculiarities of his mind. He seemed a little shy, however, in answering my inquiries, and in following any train of thought which was placed before him. This was natural enough in one of an enslaved race, in whose bosoms there must always be some feeling of wrong and oppression, so long as there is vanity in the human heart. However kindly they may be treated--however incapable they may be of taking care of, directing, and providing for themselves, they will always feel an uncongeniality--a want of sympathy with the dominant race, and shrink into themselves, more or less, when brought into communication with their masters. My companion gave me his name--Nathaniel Turner--and told me where he lived, which was not far distant; but only once was I able to bring from him a spark of that intellectual fire which he had previously displayed, and which, even now, was half smothered by that cunning which is common to savages and children. In stating that I was an Englishman, I alluded to our having emancipated our slaves in the West-India islands, and I could see a sort of eager light break forth from his eyes; but it was quenched the next moment, as if he still entertained some doubts and suspicions. "Well, master," he said, "I can't tell whether you are right or wrong in freeing the slaves. I suppose you did it because you thought you had no right to make them slaves at first. But if you did think so, there was a great deal more to be done than merely to give them back their liberty. You had taken a great deal more from them than freedom; you had taken from them their country, their home, their habits; and, I think, you were bound either to restore to them all the things of their former state, or to take good care of them, and fit them for the state into which you had brought them. However, I am a poor, foolish man, and know nothing about these things. I have been a slave all my life, and I have had very good masters. I doubt not it will all be brought right in the end; and, perhaps, we niggers are placed in the situation proper for us. At all events, it is God's will, and so we ought to be content. Now, it's possible, this fish, here in my hand, would rather have been some great shark, or some beast, or some bird, or even, perhaps, a man; but God willed it otherwise: if not, he would never have been hanging on my hook. But should the pot say to the hand that fashioned it, 'Why madest thou me so?' I was born of a different colour from you and your friends; and that difference of colour is a great difference in this world. Content is everything, good master; and I am very well content as I am-- so long as it is God's will I should be so ."

The last words were spoken after a pause, and with a good deal of emphasis; and, anxious to know more of his thoughts and feelings, I replied,-- "Ay, but the difficulty is, in the complication of this world's affairs, to discover what is God's will, and what is man's." "Whatever is, is God's will," he answered; and then added, in a slow tone, "His will will always be revealed in due time. If man cannot see clearly, God will give him eyes; and when his time comes, all must be accomplished. There is no standing against the hand of God; and let no man imagine that His judgment is not right."

By this time we had arrived at a spot about a mile from Beavors, and I could perceive, walking along the edge of a wood enclosed with a snake fence, a figure which something within me told me at once was Bessy Davenport, come forth to take her usual morning's walk. She was advancing directly towards us; and, on seeing her, I left my sable companion, and proceeded to join her. "Why, who have you been talking to?" she asked, as I came up. "It looks like Nat Turner." "No other," I answered. "Do you know anything of him?" "Oh, yes," she exclaimed; "he is a very extraordinary man indeed, and lives not far off, at Mr. Travis's, the next plantation. All the negroes look upon him as a sort of prophet, and certainly his powers of mind are so superior to those of slaves in general, that they may well do so. No one knows who taught him to read; and, if asked, he says no one taught him--it came to him of itself. Of course, that is nonsense; but, undoubtedly, he is a very extraordinary man, and his manners and language are far above his race." "That I clearly perceived," I answered; "yet I could see a good many negro traits--at least I thought so. I should much like to see more of him. What is his general character?" "Excellent," she replied. "He is, I have heard, a kind, good creature; but most austere and self-denying; eats very little, drinks nothing but water; and does not associate much with the other negroes, though he has a very great influence over them when he pleases to exert it. But he is quiet and inoffensive; and, therefore, his influence is beneficial rather than otherwise. In his hours of leisure he may be seen reading at the door of his cabin, while the others are dancing and singing, and, indeed, his conduct might be an example to many a white man I wot of." "Should such a man be kept in slavery, Bessy?" I asked, with a sigh. "You must not put such questions to me, Cousin Richard," she answered. "All we women in Virginia are, more or less, abolitionists, except when we encounter some of the northern fanatics, and then we stand upon the defensive, telling them they have no right to meddle with us. Indeed, one half of the State is in favour of emancipation; and I should not wonder if an Act for that purpose were to pass next year; though, heaven knows what we should do with the poor creatures if we did free them, for nine out of ten are quite incapable of taking care of, or providing for, themselves. I suppose we should have to become the slaves in their place, and work for them, for, assuredly, no negro will work for himself or any one else if he can help it--no, cousin, not even the paragon Nat Turner. He has, indeed, as you say, a good number of the African traits, and seems to have, as it were, two characters, one full of power and capability, and the other feeble and not to be cultivated--at least so Mr. Travis says. He is, moreover, marvellously superstitious--a believer in all sorts of signs and portents. You should go and see him in his cabin, Richard; he would take it as a great compliment." "I will, some day," I answered. "But now, whither are you bending your steps?" "Wherever fancy leads, and the air is freshest," answered Bessy. "Then take my arm, and let us seek it," I rejoined. "No, no," she replied, laughing; "you do not know our ways. No young lady takes a man's arm without being engaged to him." "Then take mine," I said, in the same gay tone.

She looked suddenly up in my face, and, seeing that I was smiling, she said, in the words of the song she had sung the night before, " Tu mi burli . But indeed it is against our customs." "Very prudish customs, indeed, dear Bessy," I answered.

She instantly passed her arm through mine, saying, "There! you shall not call me prudish, at least. I abhor a prude. Coquette I dare say you have called me in your heart a hundred times already; but you are wrong there, too, cousin mine. Having resolved, long ago, never to marry, I make use of my independence, and say what I like to any one; but that is all. I care not one straw for admiration, or anything of the kind." "Are you then the woman whose resolutions can never be changed?" I asked. "The woman!" she exclaimed, with a toss of the head. "Do you mean to imply that every woman is weak and irresolute?" "Not at all," I answered. "That does not follow, dear cousin. A woman would show herself more weak by keeping a resolution founded upon mistaken grounds, than by breaking it. You are not so weak as to keep your resolution if you have good cause for casting it away." "As what?" she asked. "What cause can I ever have?" "Love," I answered. "If you found a man who loved you sincerely, and whom you could love in return, you would break it to-morrow, and do well."

Bessy turned a little red, and then a little pale, and cast down her bright eyes. In order to change the conversation, I made some observations upon the extreme beauty of the wild flowers; but it was with difficulty I called her mind back from the train of thought it was pursuing. "I think I shall go home," she said, at length; "for these people breakfast early, in order to let their boys have the full advantage of sweet Mr. McGrubber's conversation during the day. Good lack, good lack, Cousin Richard! but this love and marriage which we were talking of just now are strange things in their way. Who would ever have thought that extraordinary McGrubber could have found any woman upon the face of the earth to marry him? And yet he did; and a sweet, pretty little creature I am told she was. She is dead now, happily for her. It was what the old women call a happy release. I am sure I should have thought so if I had been his wife. So now to return to our subject, let me say that, when I see such wonderful things happening as sane women marrying McGrubbers, no woman may be confident of what may happen to herself, and, therefore, I cannot positively say that I will not break my resolution; but, if I do, 'twill not be with my own consent." "You are a little paradox altogether, Bessy," I said. "Then don't try to find me out," she answered, "for you never can do it." "I have done it already," replied I, with a significant nod of my head. "Then, pray, tell me all about it," she cried; "for I really know nothing of the subject myself."

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