Among the Pines Part 7

"Ye don't have no n.i.g.g.e.rs thar, does ye?"

"Yes, but none that are slaves."

"Have Ablisherners thar, don't ye? them people that go agin the South?"

"Yes, some of them."

"What do they go agin the South for?"

"They go for freeing the slaves. Some of them think a black man as good as a white one."

"Quar, that; yer an Ablisherner, arnt ye?"

"No, I'm an old-fas.h.i.+oned Whig."

"What's that? Never heerd on them afore."

"An old-fas.h.i.+oned Whig, madam, is a man whose political principles are perfect, and who is as perfect as his principles."

That was a "stumper" for the poor woman, who evidently did not understand one-half of the sentence.

"Right sort of folks, them," she said, in a half inquiring tone.

"Yes, but they're all dead now."

"Dead?"

"Yes, dead, beyond the hope of resurrection."

"Iv'e heern all the dead war to be resurrected. Didn't ye say ye war one on 'em? _Ye_ aint dead yet," said the woman, chuckling at having cornered me.

"But I'm more than _half_ dead just now."

"Ah," replied the woman, still laughing, "yer a chicken."

"A chicken! what's that?"

"A thing that goes on tu legs, and karkles," was the ready reply.

"Ah, my dear madam, you can out-talk me."

"Yas, I reckon I kin outrun ye, tu. Ye arnt over rugged." Then, after a pause, she added--"What d'ye 'lect that darky, Link.u.m, President for?"

"I didn't elect him. _I_ voted for Douglas. But Lincoln is not a darky."

"He's a mullater, then; I've heern he war," she replied.

"No, he's not a mulatto; he's a rail-splitter."

"Rail-splitter? _Then he's a n.i.g.g.e.r, sh.o.r.e._"

"No, madam; white men at the North split rails."

"An' white wimmin tu, p'raps," said the woman, with a contemptuous toss of the head.

"No, they don't," I replied, "but white women _work_ there."

"White wimmin work thar!" chimed in the hitherto speechless beauty, showing a set of teeth of the exact color of her skin--_yaller_. "What du the' du?"

"Some of them attend in stores, some set type, some teach school, and some work in factories."

"Du tell! Dress nice, and make money?"

"Yes," I replied, "they make money, and dress like fine ladies; in fact, _are_ fine ladies. I know one young woman, of about your age, that had to get her own education, who earns a thousand dollars a year by teaching, and I've heard of many factory-girls who support their parents, and lay by a great deal of money, by working in the mills."

"Wal!" replied the young woman, with a contemptuous curl of her matchless upper lip; "schule-marms arn't fine ladies; fine ladies don't work; only n.i.g.g.e.rs works _har_. I reckon I'd rather be 'spectable than work for a livin'."

I could but think how magnificently the lips of some of our glorious Yankee girls would have curled had they have heard that remark, and have seen the poor girl that made it, with her torn, worn, greasy dress; her bare, dirty legs and feet, and her arms, neck, and face so thickly encrusted with a layer of clayey mud that there was danger of hydrophobia if she went near a wash-tub. Restraining my involuntary disgust, I replied:

"We at the North think work is respectable. We do not look down on a man or a woman for earning their daily bread. We all work."

"Yas, and that's the why ye'r all sech cowards," said the old woman.

"Cowards!" I said; "who tells you that?"

"My old man; he says one on our _boys_ can lick five of your Yankee _men_."

"Perhaps so. Is your husband away from home?"

"Yas, him and our Cal. ar down to Charles'n."

"Cal. is your son, is he?"

"Yas, he's my oldest, and a likely lad he ar tu--he's twenty-one, and his name are JOHN CAL'OUN MILLS. He's gone a troopin' it with his fader."

"What, both gone and left you ladies here alone?"

"Yas, the Cunnel sed every man orter go, and they warn't to be ahind the rest. The Cunnel--Cunnel J.--looks arter us while they is away."

"But I should think the Colonel looked after you poorly--giving you nothing to eat."

"Oh! it's ben sech a storm to-day, the gals couldn't go for the vittles, though 'tain't a great way. We'r on his plantation; this house is his'n."

This last was agreeable news, and it occurred to me that if we were so near the Colonel's we might push on, in spite of the storm, and get there that night; so I said:

"Indeed; I'm going to the Colonel's. How far is his house from here?"

"A right smart six mile; it's at the Cross roads. Ye know the Cunnel, du ye?"