The Garies and Their Friends Part 12

Yet I really can't see the propriety of your making a s.h.i.+pwreck of your whole life on her account. Now," continued uncle John, with great earnestness, "I hoped for better things from you. You have talents and wealth; you belong to one of the oldest and best families in the State.

When I am gone, you will be the last of our name; I had hoped that you would have done something to keep it from sinking into obscurity. There is no honour in the State to which you might not have aspired with a fair chance of success; but if you carry out your absurd determination, you will ruin yourself effectually."

"Well; I shall be ruined then, for I am determined to go. I feel it my duty to carry out my design," said Mr. Garie.

"Well, well, Clary," rejoined his uncle, "I've done my duty to my brother's son. I own, that although I cannot agree with you in your project, I can and do honour the unselfish motive that prompts it. You will always find me your friend under all circ.u.mstances, and now," concluded he, "it's off my mind."

The children were brought in and duly admired; a box of miniature carpenter's tools was produced; also, a wonderful man with a string through his waist--which string, when pulled, caused him to throw his arms and legs about in a most astonis.h.i.+ng manner. The little folks were highly delighted with these presents, which, uncle John had purchased at Augusta; they scampered off, and soon had every small specimen of sable humanity on the place at their heels, in ecstatic admiration of the wonderful articles of which they had so recently acquired possession. As uncle John had absolutely refused all other refreshment than the julep before mentioned, dinner was ordered at a much earlier hour than usual. He ate very heartily, as was his custom; and, moreover, persisted in stuffing the children (as old gentlemen will do sometimes) until their mother was compelled to interfere to prevent their having a bilious attack in consequence. Whilst the gentlemen were sitting over their desert, Mr. Garie asked his uncle, if he had not a sister, with whom there was some mystery connected.

"No mystery," replied uncle John. "Your aunt made a very low marriage, and father cut her off from the family entirely. It happened when I was very young; she was the eldest of us all; there were four of us, as you know--your father, Bernard, I, and this sister of whom we are speaking. She has been dead for some years; she married a carpenter whom father employed on the place--a poor white man from New York. I have heard it said, that he was handsome, but drunken and vicious. They left one child--a boy; I believe he is alive in the North somewhere, or was, a few years since."

"And did she never make any overtures for a reconciliation?"

"She did, some years before father's death, but he was inexorable; he returned her letter, and died without seeing or forgiving her," replied uncle John.

"Poor thing; I suppose they were very poor?"

"I suppose they were. I have no sympathy for her. She deserved her fate, for marrying a greasy mechanic, in opposition to her father's commands, when she might have connected herself with any of the highest families in the State."

The gentlemen remained a long while that night, sipping their wine, smoking cigars, and discussing the probable result of the contemplated change.

Uncle John seemed to have the worst forebodings as to the ultimate consequences, and gave it as his decided opinion, that they would all return to the old place in less than a year.

"You'll soon get tired of it," said he; "everything is so different there.

Here you can get on well in your present relations; but mark me, you'll find nothing but disappointment and trouble where you are going."

The next morning he departed for his home; he kissed the children affectionately, and shook hands warmly with their mother. After getting into the carriage, he held out his hand again to his nephew, saying:--

"I am afraid you are going to be disappointed; but I hope you may not. Good bye, good bye--G.o.d bless you!" and his blue eyes looked very watery, as he was driven from the door.

That day, a letter arrived from Savannah, informing them that the s.h.i.+p in which they had engaged pa.s.sage would be ready to sail in a few days; and they, therefore, determined that the first instalment of boxes and trunks should be sent to the city forthwith; and to Eph was a.s.signed the melancholy duty of superintending their removal.

"Let me go with him, pa," begged little Clarence, who heard his father giving Eph his instructions.

"Oh, no," replied Mr. Garie; "the cart will be full of goods, there will be no room for you."

"But, pa, I can ride my pony; and, besides, you might let me go, for I shan't have many more chances to ride him--do let me go."

"Oh, yes, ma.s.sa, let him go. Why dat ar chile can take care of his pony all by hissef. You should just seed dem two de oder day. You see de pony felt kinder big dat day, an' tuck a heap o' airs on hissef, an' tried to trow him--twarn't no go--Ma.s.sa Clary conquered him 'pletely. Mighty smart boy, dat," continued Eph, looking at little Clarence, admiringly, "mighty smart.

I let him shoot off my pistol toder day, and he pat de ball smack through de bull's eye--dat boy is gwine to be a perfect Ramrod."

"Oh, pa," laughingly interrupted little Clarence; "I've been telling him of what you read to me about Nimrod being a great hunter."

"That's quite a mistake, Eph," said Mr. Garie, joining in the laugh.

"Well, I knowed it was suffin," said Eph, scratching his head; "suffin with a rod to it; I was all right on that pint--but you'r gwine to let him go, ain't yer, ma.s.sa?"

"I suppose, I must," replied Mr. Garie; "but mind now that no accident occurs to young Ramrod."

"I'll take care o' dat," said Eph, who hastened off to prepare the horses, followed by the delighted Clarence.

That evening, after his return from Savannah, Clarence kept his little sister's eyes expanded to an unprecedented extent by his narration of the wonderful occurrences attendant on his trip to town, and also of what he had seen in the vessel. He produced an immense orange, also a vast store of almonds and raisins, which had been given him by the good-natured steward.

"But Em," said he, "we are going to sleep in such funny little places; even pa and mamma have got to sleep on little shelves stuck up against the wall; and they've got a thing that swings from the ceiling that they keep the tumblers and wine-gla.s.ses in--every gla.s.s has got a little hole for itself.

Oh, it's so nice!"

"And have they got any nice shady trees on the s.h.i.+p?" asked the wondering little Em.

"Oh, no--what nonsense!" answered Clarence, swelling with the importance conferred by his superior knowledge. "Why, no, Em; who ever heard of such a thing as trees on a s.h.i.+p? they couldn't have trees on a s.h.i.+p if they wanted--there's no earth for them to grow in. But I'll tell you what they've got--they've got masts a great deal higher than any tree, and I'm going to climb clear up to the top when we go to live on the s.h.i.+p."

"I wouldn't," said Em; "you might fall down like Ben did from the tree, and then you'd have to have your head sewed up as he had."

The probability that an occurrence of this nature might be the result of his attempt to climb the mast seemed to have considerable weight with Master Clarence, so he relieved his sister's mind at once by relinquis.h.i.+ng the project.

The morning for departure at length arrived. Eph brought the carriage to the door at an early hour, and sat upon the box the picture of despair. He did not descend from his eminence to a.s.sist in any of the little arrangements for the journey, being very fearful that the seat he occupied might be resumed by its rightful owner, he having had a lengthy contest with the sable official who acted as coachman, and who had striven manfully, on this occasion, to take possession of his usual elevated station on the family equipage. This, Eph would by no means permit, as he declared, "He was gwine to let n.o.body drive Ma.s.sa dat day but hissef."

It was a mournful parting. The slaves crowded around the carriage kissing and embracing the children, and forcing upon them little tokens of remembrance. Blind Jacob, the patriarch of the place, came and pa.s.sed his hands over the face of little Em for the last time, as he had done almost every week since her birth, that, to use his own language, "he might see how de piccaninny growed." His bleared and sightless eyes were turned to heaven to ask a blessing on the little ones and their parents.

"Why, daddy Jake, you should not take it so hard," said Mr. Garie, with an attempt at cheerfulness. "You'll see us all again some day."

"No, no, ma.s.sa, I'se feared I won't; I'se gettin' mighty old, ma.s.sa, and I'se gwine home soon. I hopes I'll meet you all up yonder," said he, pointing heavenward. "I don't 'spect to see any of you here agin."

Many of the slaves were in tears, and all deeply lamented the departure of their master and his family, for Mr. Garie had always been the kindest of owners, and Mrs. Garie was, if possible, more beloved than himself. She was first at every sick-bed, and had been comforter-general to all the afflicted and distressed in the place.

At last the carriage rolled away, and in a few hours they reached Savannah, and immediately went on board the vessel.

CHAPTER X.

Another Parting.

Mrs. Ellis had been for some time engaged in arranging and replenis.h.i.+ng Charlie's wardrobe, preparatory to his journey to Warmouth with Mrs. Bird.

An entire new suit of grey cloth had been ordered of the tailor, to whom Mrs. Ellis gave strict injunctions not to make them too small.

Notwithstanding the unfavourable results of several experiments, Mrs. Ellis adhered with wonderful tenacity to the idea that a boy's clothes could never be made too large, and, therefore, when Charlie had a new suit, it always appeared as if it had been made for some portly gentleman, and sent home to Charlie by mistake.

This last suit formed no exception to the others, and Charlie surveyed with dismay its ample dimensions as it hung from the back of the chair. "Oh, gemini!" said he, "but that jacket is a rouser! I tell you what, mother, you'll have to get out a search-warrant to find me in that jacket; now, mind, I tell you!"

"Nonsense!" replied Mrs. Ellis, "it don't look a bit too large; put it on."

Charlie took up the coat, and in a twinkling had it on over his other. His hands were almost completely lost in the excessively long sleeves, which hung down so far that the tips of his fingers were barely visible. "Oh, mother!" he exclaimed, "just look at these sleeves--if such a thing were to happen that any one were to offer me a half dollar, they would change their mind before I could get my hand out to take it; and it will almost go twice round me, it is so large in the waist."

"Oh, you can turn the sleeves up; and as for the waist--you'll soon grow to it; it will be tight enough for you before long, I'll warrant," said Mrs. Ellis.

"But, mother," rejoined Charlie, "that is just what you said about the other blue suit, and it was entirely worn out before you had let down the tucks in the trowsers."

"Never mind the blue suit," persisted Mrs. Ellis, entirely unbia.s.sed by this statement of facts. "You'll grow faster this time--you're going into the country, you must remember--boys always grow fast in the country; go into the other room and try on the trowsers."

Charlie retired into another room with the trowsers in question. Here he was joined by Kinch, who went into fits of laughter over Charlie's pea-jacket, as he offensively called the new coat.

"Why, Charlie," said he, "it fits you like a s.h.i.+rt on a bean-pole, or rather it's like a sentry's box--it don't touch you any where. But get into these pants," said he, almost choking with the laughter that Charlie's vexed look caused him to suppress--"get into the pants;" at the same time tying a string round Charlie's neck.