Soon the husband returned with the little girl and boy and four young ebonies, all bare-headed and all dressed alike, in thick trowsers and a loose linsey shirt. Among them was my new acquaintance, 'Dandy Jim, of ole Car'lina.'
The little girl came to me, and soon I had two white children on one knee and two black on the other, with Dandy Jim between my legs, playing with my watchchain. The family made no distinction between the colors, and as the children were all equally clean, I did not see why I should do so.
The lady renewed the conversation by remarking: 'P'raps ye reckon it's quar, sir, that we 'low ourn to 'sociate 'long with th' black chil'ren; but we karn't help it. On big plantations, it works sorry bad, fur th' white young uns larn all manner of evil from the black uns; but I've laboored ter teach ourn so one won't do no harm ter t'other.'
'I suppose, madam, that is one of the greatest evils of slavery. The low black poisons the mind of the white child, and the bad influence lasts through life.'
'Yas, it's so, stranger; an' it's the biggest keer I hev. It often 'pears strange ter me thet our grow'd up men arn't no wuss than the' is.'
In those few words, that unlettered woman had said what would—if men were but wise enough to hear and heed the great truth which she spoke—banish slavery from this continent forever!
After a while, the farmer told the juvenile delineator of Mrs. Hemans and the other poets to give us a song; and planting himself in the middle of the floor, the little darky sang 'Dixie' and several other negro songs, which his master had taught him, but into which he had introduced some amusing variations of his own. The other children joined in the choruses; and then Jim danced breakdowns, 'walk-along-Joes,' and other darky dances, his master accompanying him on a cracked fiddle, till my sides were sore with laughter, and the hostess begged them to stop. Finally the clock struck twelve, and the farmer, going to the door, gave a long, loud blast on a cow's horn. In about five minutes, one after another of the field hands came in, till the whole ten had seated themselves on the verandah. Each carried a bowl, a tin-cup, or a gourd, into which my host—who soon emerged from a back room[1] with a pail of whisky in his hand—poured a gill of the beverage. This was the day's allowance, and the farmer, in answer to a question of mine, told me he thought negroes were healthier and worked better for a small quantity of alcohol daily. 'The' work hard, and salt feed doan't set 'em up 'nough,' was his remark.
Meanwhile the hostess busied herself with preparations for dinner, and it was soon spread on a bright cherry table, covered by a spotless white cloth. The little darkies had scattered to the several cabins, and we soon sat down to as good a meal as I ever ate at the South.
We were waited on by a tidy negro woman, neatly clad in a calico gown, with shoes on her feet, and a flaming red and yellow kerchief on her head. This last was worn in the form of a turban, and one end escaping from behind and hanging down her back, it looked for all the world like a flag hung out from a top turret. Observing it, my host said:
'Aggy—showin' yer colors? Ye'r Union gal—hey?'