But this unfinished work was fraught with rich promise. She probably wrote the first story of any writer that belongs to the distinctively Southern school. She wrote before '77 some of "The Gran'mammy Stories," and these seem to be the first negro dialect stories published in a Northern journal, and thus speaking to the whole country. She wrote in '78 "Like unto Like," a story that has to do with the reconstruction period. Into this field Cable came later, and Page selected it as a fitting period in which to locate his most ambitious work, "Red Rock." Only one writer before her had attempted to work this virgin soil, Baker in "Colonel Dunwoddie, Millionaire." In this book she refers to the "Tar Baby Story," which she published several years later in Harper's Monthly. She wrote some excellent dialect stories of the Tennessee mountains, thus doing pioneer work in a field which Miss Murfree has made so peculiarly her own. She spent some time beginning in 1880, in that portion of Illinois known as Egypt; and "On the Nine-Mile," and "Sister Weeden's Prayer" illuminate this dark world. These stories and a number of others were written in the dialect peculiar to this region. Of "Sister Weeden's Prayer" in the "new" dialect The Nation spoke in most complimentary terms. She seems to have been the first to give to the vernacular of this region literary treatment, thus doing for Illinois what Eggleston and Riley have done for Indiana.
Her principal writings may be grouped as follows: Early pieces, '64-'73;—Letters from Boston and Europe, '74-'76;—Short Stories published in periodicals between '73 and '83; a number of these were collected after the death of the author and reprinted in a volume entitled "Suwanee River Tales"[1] (There are many excellent sketches in this little book, but the best are those in which Gran'mammy figures); to this period of her life belong "Miss Willard's Two Rings,"[2] and "From '60 to '65"[3];—"Like unto Like,"[4] a novel, "The Valcours,"[5] a novelette, "The Revolution in the Life of Mr. Balingall,"[6] "Two Storms,"[7] "A Volcanic Interlude,"[8] appeared between '78 and '83. She wrote during these years besides, a number of dialect stories dealing with negro character, the mountaineers of East Tennessee, and the denizens of the Western prairie. "Hieronymus Pop and the Baby," "The Case of Eliza Blelock" and "Lame Jerry" are all strong sketches. Some of these stories have appeared in book form.[9]
The "Gran'mammy Stories"[10] reveal with force and beauty the characteristics of the old Southern "mammy," who deserves a modest place with "The chaste and sage Dame Eurycleia" and fair Juliet's nurse; and Sherwood Bonner has made posterity her debtor by preserving the lineaments of this picturesque personage whose place formerly was of so much consequence in the Southern home. But let the author unfold her character:
"In our Southern home we were very fond of our old colored mammy, who had petted and scolded and nursed and coddled, —— yes, and spanked us,—from the time we were born."
She was not a 'black mammy,' for her complexion was the color of clear coffee; and we did not call her 'mammy' but 'gran'mammy' because she had nursed our mother when a delicate baby,—loving her foster child, I believe, more than her own, and loving us for our dear mother's sake.
She was all tenderness when we were wee toddlers, not more than able to clutch at the great gold hoops in her ears, or cling to her ample skirts like little burrs; but she showed a sharper side as we grew old enough to 'bother round the kitchen' with inquisitive eyes and fingers and tongues. I regret to say that she sometimes called us 'limbs' and would wonder with many a groan and shake of her head, how we contrived to hold so much of the Evil One in our small frames.
"'I never seed sich chillern in all my born days,' she cried one day, when Ruth interrupted her in the midst of custard making, to beg leave to get into the kettle of boiling soap that she might be clean once for all, and never need another bath; while Sam, on the other side, entreated that she would make three 'points' of gravy with the fried chicken for dinner. (Sam always came out strong on pronunciation; his very errors leaned to virtue's side.)
"'I 'clar to gracious,' said poor gran'mammy, 'you'll drive all de sense clean outen my head. How Miss Mary 'xpec's me ter git a dinner fitten fur white folks ter eat, wid you little onruly sinners furever under foot, is mo' dan I kin say. An' here's Leah an' Rachel, my own gran-chillern, a no mo' use ter me dan two tar babies.'
"As gran'mammy grew older, her manner softened; her love was less fluctuating. It was she to whom we ran to tell of triumphs and sorrows; she whose sympathy, ash-cakes and turnover pies never failed us. It was she who hung over our sickbeds; who told us stories more beautiful than we read in any books; who sang to us old-fashioned hymns of praise and faith; and who talked to us with childlike simplicity of the God whom she loved.