Step by Step Part 4

The poor frightened girl fell on her knees.

"Oh, Missus," she cried, "dear Missus, do 'scuse me. I'll neber do dat ting over 'gin! I'll neber run away 'gin! I'll neber do noffin! Oh, Missus, please don't, oh, dear,"--as notwithstanding the appeal, the angry blow fell. Before another could descend, Miss Matilda laid her hand upon her sister's arm.

"Excuse the girl, Susan," she said, gently, "excuse her just this once, and give her a trial. See if she won't do better."

It was very hard, for it was contrary to her nature, for Mrs. Lee to show mercy. However, she did yield, and after a very severe reprimand to the culprit, and a very unreasonable, angry speech to Tidy, who, to to [sic] her thinking, had become implicated in Frances' guilt, she dismissed them both from her presence,--the one chuckling over her fortunate escape, and the other querying in her mind, whether or no this unhoped-for mercy was another answer to prayer. Miss Matilda made a remark as they retired, which Tidy heard, whether it was designed for her ear or not.

"I always have designed to give that child her liberty when she is old enough; and if any thing prevents my doing so, I hope she will take it herself."

Take her liberty! What did that mean? Tidy laid up the saying, and pondered it in her heart.

Does any one of our little readers ask why Miss Matilda did not free the child then? Tidy's services paid her owner's board at her brother's house, and she couldn't afford to give away her very subsistence; COULD SHE?

CHAPTER IX. THE FIRST LESSON.

THE walk to school was a very delightful one, and as the trio trudged over the road from day to day, chattering like magpies, laughing, singing, shouting, and dancing in the exuberance of childish glee, all seemed equally light-hearted and joyous. Even the little slave who carried the books which she was unable to read, and the basket of dinner of which she could not by right partake, with a keen eye for the beautiful, and a sensitive heart to appreciate nature, could not apparently have been more happy, if her condition had been reversed, and she had been made the served instead of the servant.

The way for half a mile lay through a dense pine-wood,--the tall trees rising like stately pillars in some vast temple filled with balsamic incense, and floored with a clean, elastic fabric, smooth as polished marble, over which the little feet lightly and gayly tripped. In the central depths where the sun's rays never penetrated, and the fallen leaves lay so thickly on the ground, no flowers could grow, but on the outer edges spring lavished her treasures. The trailing arbutus added new fragrance to the perfumed air, frail anemones trembled in the wind, and violets flourished in the shade. The blood-root lifted its lily-white blossoms to the light, and the cream-tinted, fragile bells of the uvularia nestled by its side. Pa.s.sing the wood and its embroidered flowery border, a brook ran across the road. The rippling waters were almost hidden by the bushes which grew upon its banks, where the wild honeysuckle and touch-me-not, laurels and eglantine, mingled their beautiful blossoms, and wooed the bee and humming-bird to their gay bowers. Over this stream a narrow bridge led directly to the school-house; but the homeward side was so attractive, that the children always tarried there until they saw the teacher on the step, or heard the little bell tinkling from the door. Tidy remained with them till the last minute, and there her bright face might invariably be seen when school was dismissed in the afternoon. A large flat rock between the woods and the flowery edges of Pine Run was the place of rendezvous.

One summer's morning they were earlier than usual, and emerging from the woods, warm and weary with their long walk, they threw themselves down upon the rock over which in the early day, the shadows of the trees refres.h.i.+ngly fell. Amelia turned her face toward the Run, and lulled by the gentle murmuring of the water, and the humming of the insects, was soon quietly asleep; Susie, with an ap.r.o.n full of burs, was making furniture for the play-house which they were arranging in a cleft of the rock; and Tidy, who carried the books, was busily turning over the leaves and amusing herself with the pictures.

"My sakes!" she exclaimed presently, "what a funny cretur! See that great lump on his back!" and she pointed with her finger to the picture of a camel. "Miss Susie! what IS that? Is it a lame horse?"

"Why no, Tidy, that's a camel; 'tisn't a horse at all. I was reading that very place yesterday,--let me see," and taking the book she read very intelligently a brief account of the wonderful animal.

"How queer!" said Tidy, deeply interested. "And is there something in this book about all the pictures?"

"Yes," answered Susie, "if you could only read now, you would know about every one. See here, on the next page is an elephant; see his great tusks and his monstrous long trunk," and the child read to her attentive listener of another of the wonders of creation.

[ill.u.s.tration omitted]

"How I wish I could read,--why can't I?" asked Tidy; and the little colored face was turned up full of animation. "I don't b'lieve but I could learn as well as you."

"Why of course you could," answered Amelia, who had risen quite refreshed by her short nap. "I don't see why not. You can't go to school you know, because mother wants you to work; but I could teach you just as well as not."

"Oh, could you? will you?--do begin!" cried the eager child. "Oh, Miss Mely, if you only would, I'd do any thing for you."

"Look here," said Amelia, seizing the book from her sister's hands, and by virtue of superior age, const.i.tuting herself the teacher; "do you see those lines?" and she pointed to the columns of letters on the first page.

"Yes," said the ready pupil, all attention.

"Well, those are letters,--the alphabet, they call it. Every one of them has got a name, and when you have learned to know them all perfectly, so that you can call them all right wherever you see 'em, why, then you can read any thing."

"Any thing?" asked Tidy in amazement.

"Yes, any thing,--all kinds of books and papers and the Bible and every thing."

"I can learn THEM, I's sure I can," said Tidy. "Le's begin now."

"Well, you see that first one,--that's A. You see how it's made,--two lines go right up to a point, and then a straight one across. Now say, what is it?"

"A."

"Yes; and now the next one,--that's B. There's a straight line down and two curves on the front. What's that?"

"B."

"Now you must remember those two,--I sha'n't tell you any more this morning, and I shall make you do just as Miss Agnes used to make me.

Miss Agnes was our governess at home before we came here to school. She made me take a newspaper,--see, here's a piece,--and p.r.i.c.k the letters on it with a pin. Now you take this piece of paper, and p.r.i.c.k every A and every B that you can find on it, and to-morrow I'll show you some more."

Just then the bell sounded from the schoolhouse, and Amelia and Susan went to their duties, but not with half so glad a heart as Tidy set herself to hers. Down she squatted on the rock, and did not leave the place till her first task was successfully accomplished, and the precious piece of perforated paper safely stowed away for Amelia's inspection.

Day after day this process was repeated, until all the letters great and small had been learned; and now for the more difficult work of putting them together. There seemed to be but one step between Tidy and perfect happiness. If she could only have a hymn-book and know how to read it, she would ask nothing more. She didn't care so much about the Bible. If she had known, as you do, children, that it is G.o.d's word, no doubt she would have been anxious to learn what it contained. But this truth she had never heard, and therefore all her desires were centered in the hymn-book, in which were stored so many of those precious and beautiful hymns which she loved so much to hear Uncle Simon repeat and sing. Would she ever be so happy as to be able to sing them from her own book?

CHAPTER X. LONY'S PEt.i.tION.

BUT, ah! this is a world of disappointment, and it almost always happens that if we attain any real good, we have to toil for it. Tidy's path was not to continue as smooth and pleasant as it had been.

Mr. and Mrs. Lee, by some untoward accident, found out what was going on, and at once expounded the law and the necessities of the case to their children, forbidding them in the most peremptory manner, and on penalty of the severest chastis.e.m.e.nt, ever to attempt again to give Tidy or any other slave a lesson. What the punishment was with which they were threatened she never knew, for the little girls never dared even to speak upon the subject; but she knew it must be something very dreadful, and though this was a most cruel blow to her expectations, she loved them too well to bring them into the slightest danger on her own account. So she never afterwards alluded to the subject.

Her first impulse was to give up all for lost, and to sit down and weep despairingly over her disappointment; but she was of too hopeful a disposition to do so.

"I knows the letters," said she to herself, "and I specs I can learn myself. I can SCRAMBLE ALONG, some way."

Scrambling indeed! I wonder if any of you, little folks, would be willing to undertake it.

In her trouble she did not forget the strong hold to which she had learned to resort in trouble. She PRAYED about it every day, morning, noon, and night. Indeed the words "Lord, help me learn to read," were seldom out of her heart. Even when she did not dare to utter them with her lips, they were mentally e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed. Hers was indeed an unceasing prayer.

"Come chile," said Mammy Grace, one evening in the cool, frosty autumn, as Tidy was hovering over the embers, eating her corn-bread, "put on de ole shawl, and we'll tote ober de hills to Ma.s.sa Bertram's. De meetin's dare dis yer night, and Si's gwine to go. Come, honey, 'tis chill dis ebening, and de walk'll put the warmf right smart inter ye;" and they started off at a quick pace, over the hills, through the woods, down the lanes, and across little brooks, the pale, cold moonlight streaming across their path, and the warm sunlight of divine peace and favor enlivening their hearts as they went on, making nothing at all of a walk of three miles to sing and pray in company with Christian friends. Would WE take as much pains to attend a prayer-meeting?

It was not the customary place of meeting, and the people for the most part were strangers. One party had come by special invitation, to see a new PIECE OF PROPERTY which had just arrived upon the place,--a piece of property that thought, and felt, and moved, and walked, like a thing of life; that loved and feared the Lord, and sung and prayed like any Christian. What wonderful qualities slaveholders' chattels possess!

The woman, whose name was Apollonia, familiarly called Lony, was a tall, gaunt, square-built negress, with a skin so black and s.h.i.+ning, and her limbs so rigid, that she might almost have been mistaken for one of those ma.s.sive statues we sometimes see carved out of the solid anthracite. A bright yellow turban on her head rose in shape like an Egyptian pyramid, adding to her extraordinary hight, and strangely contrasting with her black, thick, African features. Altogether her appearance would have been formidable and repelling, but for a look in her eye like the clear s.h.i.+ning after rain, and a tranquil, peaceful expression which had over-spread her hard visage. Tidy was overawed and fascinated by the gigantic figure, and when, after a few minutes of sacred silence, the new comer, who seemed accepted as the presiding spirit of the occasion, commenced singing, she was more than usually interested and attentive. The words were not familiar to the company, so that none could join, and the deep monotone of the woman, at first low, and by degrees becoming louder and more animated, made every word distinct and impressive.

"I was but a youth when first I was called on, To think of my soul and the state I was in; I saw myself standing from G.o.d a great distance, And betwixt me and him was a mountain of Sin.

"Old Satan declared that I had been converted, Old Satan persuaded me I was too young; And before my days ended that I would grow tired, And I'd wish that I'd never so early begun."

"But, praise de Lord," exclaimed the woman, stopping short in her hymn, and rising suddenly to her feet, "I habn't growed tired yet, and I's been walkin in de ways of goodness forty years and more. De Lord, he is good,--I knows he is, for I's tried him and found him out, and I's neber tired o' praisin him. Bress de Lord! He's new to me ebery mornin, and fresh as de coolin waters ebery ebening. Praise de Lord! Hallelujah!

When I was a chile, I use to make ma.s.sa's boys mad so's to hear 'em swar. It pleased dis wicked cretur to hear de fierce swarrin'. One day I went to de garden behind de house to git de water-melons for dinner, and I heerd a voice. 'Pears 'twas like a leetle, soft voice, but I couldn't see n.o.body nowhar dat spoke, and it said, 'Lony, Lony, don't yer make dem boys swar no more, ef ye do, ye'll lose yer soul.' I looked all roun and roun, for I was skeered a'most to deff, but I couldn't see n.o.body, and den I know'd 'twas a voice from heaben, for I'd heerd o' sich, and I says, 'No, Lord, no, I won't.' I didn't know den what de SOUL was, or what a drefful ting 'twas to lose it; but I knowd it mus mean suffin orful. So I began to consider all de time 'bout de soul. Byme-by a Baptis' min'ster comed to de place, and ma.s.sa and missus was converted.

Den dey let us hab meetin's and de clersh'-man he comed and talked to us. I didn't comperhend much he said, 'caus I was young and foolish; but he telled a good many times 'bout dat ef we want to save our souls we mus be babtize and git under de Lord's table. Says I to my own sef, 'Specs now ef poor Lony could only find de table of de bressed Lord, 'twould all be well, and she'd be pertected foreber.' So I prayed and prayed, and one night de good Lord comed hissef, and bringd his great, splendid table, and all de fair angels dressed in white and gold and settin roun it, and I got under, and I ate de crumbs dat fell down, and den 'pears I begun to live. Oh, 'twas sich a peace dat came all ober me, and I wanted to sing and shout all of de time. And dat's jess whar I been eber sence, my friends, and I neber wants to come away till I dies; and den de good Lord'll take me up to de great heabenly mansion, and gib me de gold robes, and den I shall set up wid de rest and be like 'em all. And I's willin to wait, 'caus I lubs de Lord and praises him ebery day. He is de good Lord, and he lubs me and hearkens ebery time I speaks to him; and I ha'n't 'bleeged to holler loud, nuther, for he's neber far away, but he keeps close by dis poor soul so he can hear ebery word and cry. And he'll hear all yer cries, my friends, when ye prays for yersef or for yer chillen, or yer bredren and sisters. Le's pray, now."

Then kneeling down, this representative of a despised and untutored race, with a faith that triumphed gloriously over her abject surroundings, poured forth her supplications, talking with the Lord as a man talks with his friend, as it were face to face.

"O bressed Lord, dat's in de heaben and de earf and ebery whar; you's heerd all de tings dat we's asked for. And you knows all dat dese yer poor chillen wants dat dey hasn't axed for; and if dere's any ob 'em here, dat doesn't dare to speak out loud, and tell what dey does want, you can hear it jess as well, ef it is way down deep buried up in de heart; and oh, bressed Lord, do gib 'em de desires of de heart, 'less it's suffin dat'll hurt 'em, and den Lord don't gib it to 'em at all."