[One of these houses is said to have been greatly improved in appearance during the war by the passage of a cannon ball through the upper story, where a window had been needed for many years.]
But the owners of these places were so genuinely good, one could not complain of them even for such carelessness. For everybody was welcome to everything. You might stop the plows if you wanted a horse, or take the carriage and drive for a week’s journey, and, in short, impose upon these good people in every conceivable way.
Yet in spite of this topsy-turvy management—a strange fact connected with such places—they invariably had good light bread, good mutton, and the usual abundance on their tables.
We suppose it must have been a recollection of such plantations which induced the negro to exclaim, on hearing another sing, “Ole Virginny nubber tire.” “Umph! ole Virginny nubber tire, kase she nubber done nuthin’ fur to furtigue herself!”
[CHAPTER XV.]
Confining these reminiscences strictly to plantation life, no mention has been made of the families we knew and visited in some of our cities, whose kindness to their slaves was unmistakable, and who owning only a small number could better afford to indulge them.
At one of these houses, this indulgence was such that the white family were very much under the control of their servants.
The owner of this house—an eminent lawyer—was a man of taste and learning, whose legal ability attracted many admirers, and whose refinement, culture and generous nature won enthusiastic friends.
Although considered the owner of his house, it was a mistake—if ownership means the right to govern one’s own property—for beyond his law papers, library and the privilege of paying all the bills, this gentleman had no “rights” there whatever; his house, kitchen and premises being under the entire command of “Aunt Fanny,” the cook—a huge mulatto woman whose word was law, and whose voice thundered abuse if any dared to disobey her.