Instances of harsh or cruel treatment were rare. I never heard of more than two or three individuals who were "hard" or unkind to their negroes, and these were ostracized from respectable society, their very names bringing reproach and blight upon their descendants.
We knew of but one instance of cruelty on our plantation, and that was when "Uncle Joe," the blacksmith, burned his nephew's face with a hot iron. The man carries the scar to this day, and in speaking of it always says: "Soon as my marster fin' out how Uncle Joe treated me, he wouldn't let me work no mo' in his shop."
CHAPTER IV.
The extent of these estates precluding the possibility of near neighbors, their isolation would have been intolerable but for the custom of visiting which prevailed among us. Many houses were filled with visitors the greater part of the year, and these usually remained two or three weeks. Visiting tours were made in our private carriages, each family making at least one such tour a year. Nor was it necessary to announce these visits by message or letter, each house being considered always ready, and "entertaining company" being the occupation of the people. Sometimes two or three carriages might be descried in the evening coming up to the door through the Lombardy poplar avenue,—the usual approach to many old houses; whereupon ensued a lively flutter among small servants, who, becoming generally excited, speedily got them into their clean aprons, and ran to open gates and to remove parcels from carriages. Lady visitors were always accompanied by colored maids, although sure of finding a superfluity of these at each establishment. The mistress of the house always received her guests in the front porch, with a sincere and cordial greeting.
These visiting friends at my own home made an impression upon me that no time can efface. I almost see them now, those dear, gentle faces, my mother's early friends, and those delightful old ladies, in close bordered tarlatan caps, who used to come to see my grandmother. These last would sit round the fire, knitting and talking over their early memories: how they remembered the red coats of the British; how they had seen the Richmond theater burn down, with some of their family burned in it; how they used to wear such beautiful turbans of crêpe lisse to the Cartersville balls, and how they used to dance the minuet. At mention of this my grandmother would lay off her spectacles, put aside her knitting, rise with dignity,—she was very tall,—and show us the step of the minuet, gliding slowly and majestically around the room. Then she would say: "Ah, children, you will never see anything as graceful as the minuet. Such jumping around as you see would not have been regarded as dignified in my day!"
"MY GRANDMOTHER WOULD SHOW US THE STEP OF THE MINUET."—Page 32.
My mother's friends belonged to a later generation, and were types of women whom to have known I shall ever regard as a blessing and privilege. They combined intelligence with exquisite refinement; and their annual visits gave my mother the greatest happiness, which we soon learned to share and appreciate.