“Oh, I am so glad it is only that. Uncle Ephraim (Major Twiggs' servant) said they were to be filled with powder and fired off Christmas Day, and he was terribly afraid they would blow the house up, and we in it.”
Ephraim, who was a most faithful and valuable servant, often amused himself with playing upon the credulity of the younger portions of the colored fraternity.
“Is it true,” asked Louisa, one day, “that Pill on and Plante were once prairie-wolves?”
“Prairie-wolves! what an idea! Why do you ask such a foolish question?”
“Because uncle Ephraim says they, and all the Frenchmen about here, were once prairie-wolves, and that, living so near the white people, they grew, after a time, to be like them, and learn to talk and dress like them. And then, when they get to be old, they turn back into prairie-wolves again, and that all the wolves that the officers bait with their dogs used to be Frenchmen, once.”
After a time, however, I ceased to straighten out these stories of uncle Ephraim, for I was gradually arriving at the conviction that my little colored damsel was by no means so simple and unsophisticated as she would have me believe, and that I was, after all, the one who was imposed upon.
The snow this winter was prodigious, and the cold intense. The water would freeze in our parlors at a very short distance from the fire, for, although the “fatigue parties” kept the hall filled with wood, almost up to the ceiling, that did not counterbalance the inconvenience of having the wide doors thrown open to the outer air for a great portion of the day, to allow of their bringing it in. We Northerners should have had wood-houses specially for the purpose, and not only have kept our great hall-doors closed, but have likewise protected them with a “hurricane house.” But the Florida frontier was not a station for our southern bachelors to have acquired the knowledge that would have been available when the thermometer was twenty-five degrees below zero—at a point that brandy congealed in the sideboard.
The arrival of Christmas and New Year’s brought us our Indian friends again. They had learned something of the observation of these holidays from their French neighbors, and I had been forewarned that I should see the squaws kissing every white man they met. Although not crediting this to its full extent, I could readily believe that they would each expect a present, as a “compliment of the season,” so I duly prepared myself with a supply of beads, ribbons, combs, and other trinkets. Knowing them to be fond of dainties, I had also a quantity of crullers and doughnuts made ready the day before, as a treat to them.
To my great surprise and annoyance, only a moderate share of the cakes, the frying of which had been entrusted to Louisa, were brought up to be placed in the “Davis.”