"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.