Qfmim 
ANDERSONYILLE VIOLETS. 
Copyrighted by the Rural New-Yorker. 
All rights reserved. 
chapter xiii.— (Continued.) 
John kissed her and went out. He sat on 
the piazza for awhile and then softly opened 
the door of the room and looked in. Nellie 
had fallen asleep. She lay with her arm 
throwu over the baby. John closed the door 
and walked down the path to the street. As 
he passed through the gate he met the old gen¬ 
tleman who had noticed the little girl at din¬ 
ner. This new friend bowed and held out his 
hand, which John shook heartily. 
"I am glad to see you. Judge.” The old 
gentleman spoke with an emphasis on the new 
title, that showed that he fully understood how 
Jobu regarded it. “I am glad to see you—my 
name is Lawrence, and if I can be of any ser¬ 
vice to you L shall be very glad. You are a 
stranger here, and, if 1 ain not mistaken, a 
Northern man.” 
John shook the old gentleman’s baud again. 
“Yes, I’m a Yankee, I s’pose,” he said simply. 
“I come from the State o’ Maine.” 
He had determined to say as little as possible 
about his State or his former home, being con¬ 
vinced, as most Northern people are, before 
they come to the South, that the mere mention 
of his former residence would be used as au 
argument against him. 
“Ah, indeed?” replied Mr. Lawrence—by 
this time they were walking together down 
the street—“1 had some relatives in New 
Hampshire years ago—in fact, I came from 
that State—but it was so long ago that I ex¬ 
pect they are dead, long since. It is very hard, 
however, for one to forget those old hills.” 
Johu would not have been a Yankee if he 
had not tried to cross-question his new friend. 
“You’ve ben here a good while, I s’pose.” 
“A great many years. I have seen many 
changes, and many stirring times. You have 
come here at. a very trying time, and you will 
find it necessary to do many things that you 
would not think of doing at the North. 
“What sort of a country is it?” Johu asked 
the question a little hesitatingly. 
“It is a country of magnificent possibilities 
—that is the best 1 can say. You will Bee 
what I mean wbeu you are fairly at work. 
The strength of this land lies in the future— 
it wilt be strength or weakness just as the 
present generation shall decide. There is no 
place in the land where the immigrant will 
find it so hard to become contented, yet there 
is no place where strong-hearted men and wo¬ 
men cau do so much for themselves aud for 
their country as th?y cau here. By the way, 
you were a soldier 1 suppose?” 
“Of course I was,” said John stoutly. This 
was one of the questions that he felt unable to 
dodge. The old gentleman looked at him 
keenly. 
“You think the negroes are the equals of our 
white people 1 suppose—that is, you think the 
government did right in giving them equal 
rights with white people?” 
“Of course,” auswered John, “wasn’t that 
what we fought the war for?” 
His companion smiled sadly and shook his 
head. 
“Let me give you a word of advice, my 
friend. Never give one of our Southern ne¬ 
groes to Understand that you consider him as 
an equal. At home you would doubth ss in¬ 
vite a negro to your table. Never think of do-* 
ing it I ere if you want to enjoy any of the 
privileges of society’ or business. You have 
come uiuong u very proud and impulsive peo¬ 
ple. They have strong beliefs—stronger thuu 
your own in fact. They know the negroes are 
incapable of governing people who are super¬ 
ior in intelligence. You will see that this is 
true before long, and 1 must advise you as a 
friend to be guarded in your remarks. Noth¬ 
ing is to be gained by talking too much, and 
everything may be lost. 1 am un old man 
and I have studied this question caiefully.” 
John felt that this was all true. It was about 
what Uncle Nathan had meant when he said: 
“ ’Twon’t do ye no good ter spread yer idees 
round there too thick. People ain’t gouter 
change their notions in a mi an It. if they ask 
ye where ye couiefrum, jest tell ’em and don’t 
stop ter make no argyments ner excuses. 
They’ll think a great site more of ye if ye 
mind yer own biz’ness. You jest stick ter 
work an’ let them run their own wagiu.” 
“I’ve made up my mind to keep my mouth 
shut and mind my own affairs,” John saidas 
they walked on toward the business part of 
the town. lu a few moments they stood in 
front of the court-house, where they could 
command a good view of the main street. 
It was a dreary sight to Jobu, accustomed 
as he was to the stir aud bustle of New Eng¬ 
land. A group of men sat in front of every 
store. They were staring vacantly into the 
street, or talking in a listless manner, each 
word being obliged to fight its way out through 
their jaws. Before several of the larger 
groups a 1'ow sidewalk orators were holding 
forth in thrilling style. The stores seemed to 
be kept for the most part by Jews. They 
stood in the doorways with that peculiar 
smile and hand motion for which the Jews 
are famous the world over. A line of sad- 
looking mules, some saddled and others at¬ 
tached to wagons, stood along the street. They 
hung their heads down as if trying to appear 
as lazy and spiritless as their masters. Surely 
a man is known by his mule or dog. Near a 
small tree that was making a brave struggle 
for existence on a high clay bank, John saw a 
horse standing iti a crowd of mules. The de¬ 
graded animal seemed heartily ashamed of 
himself at thus being forced to associate with 
mules. If he bad straightened up proudly or 
even pranced a little, he would have appeared 
finely m the crowd of lazy creatures about 
him. 
A yoke of bony oxen had hauled a heavy 
wagon up near the village well. One of the 
animate lay contentedly upon the ground, 
while the other stood patiently holding tbe 
whole weight of the yoke. The driver, a long, 
lean, yellow faced man with hair, face and 
clothes all of the same color, stood leaning 
against the wagon, holdinga long whip which 
he cracked at intervals in the direction of a 
group of negroes. The stores were low and 
discolored. One felt that trade must be 
cramped aud dwarfed before it could inter 
them. The sidewalks were broken and dirty. 
There was litile paint to be seen. What litile 
there was seemed creeping into tbe dirt for 
protection. A few white men were at work, 
hut most of them satin the comfortable chairs 
and gazed at the street. Tbe negroes sup¬ 
plied most of the life in the picture. It wus 
Saturday, aud they had gathered from all 
sides lor a general holiday. In all stages of 
costume, from a few rags held together by a 
strap to a gorgeous combination introducing 
all the colors of the rainbow, they stood or 
walked about ta'kuigatul laughing as though 
the chief end of life consisted in manufactur¬ 
ing all the fun possible. In one corner a 
crowd had gathered about a ragged musician 
who discoursed sweet music from a tumith 
organ. The crowd stool about in opeu- 
mouihed attention, often beating time with 
their hands or feet as he played. The driver 
of the ox team listened until “Rally Round 
the Flag” roused him to action. That nnlo- 
dy evidently brought the old times buck to 
him. To drive them back into the past, lie 
cracked his long whip over the crowd in such 
close proximity to the \ -layer’s head, that the 
tune came to a very abrupt termination. The 
company broke up with mutterings and head- 
shaking, The ox driver drew in his long lash 
and placed himself in readiness for another 
shot. 
In a vacant lot near the street a negro ora¬ 
tor w as selling various bottles of a “ Hunger” 
medicine of his own manufacture. He was 
dressed in a bright uniform of red and yellow. 
He wore a tall white hat from which floated 
several black feathers. He was addressing a 
crowd of open-mouthed negroes, and eloquent¬ 
ly statiug a seriosof tbe most remarkable phy¬ 
siological facts that ever came to the light. 
(Several refreshment stands were placed 
along the street for the benefit of the darkeys. 
There was nothing princely about these estab¬ 
lishments. Au upturned dry goods box or a 
board laid across two barrels served for a 
counter. A basket of small cakes, a great, 
shapeless piece of pork and a pile of biscuits 
formed the stock in trade. An old crone with 
gray hair and a face twisted into a mass of 
wrinkles, presided over the stand near where 
John stood. She was smoking a long pipe di¬ 
rectly over the great piece of boiled pork. A 
big negro approached aud laid u dime on the 
board. The old womau cut a large block of 
meat from the mass and laid it upon one of 
the little cakes. This, with one of the biscuits, 
formed tho ration.The negro grasped his food 
eagerly, and crouched on the edge of the side¬ 
walk to devour it. A rival establishment near 
by was doing a fine business in fried sausage. 
A small oil stove supplied the heat, and a but¬ 
tered tin pan held the food. It was cooked in 
great balls in a rusty frying-pan aud turned 
about with a jack-knife, The purchasers re¬ 
ceived the meat directly iuto their* hands. 
As John stood watching the negroes Mr. 
Lawrence touched bis arm and at the same 
time beekoued to a tall man who had just left 
oue of the groups of white ineu. 
“My friend, Colonel Fair—Judge Rock¬ 
well,” he introduced, as the tall man came 
near. “Colonel Fair is a Northern man; he 
lives near your place and can doubtless give 
you some information concerning it. Now I 
must bid you good evening, for I am obliged 
to go. I leave you in good hands. I shall be 
glad to see you again”—and with a shake of 
the hand and a stately bow Mr. Lawrence 
walked down the street to the place where his 
horse had been tied. 
“Nice ole man,” said Colouel Fair, abruptly. 
“Doc. Lawrence is a nice old man, but he ain’t 
got mueh sense.” 
John looked curiously at, the man who spoke 
his ideas with so little reserve. A tall, thin 
man, with long, bony* hands. The skin on his 
face seemed to bevlrawu so tight that it pushed 
his eyes into uudue prominence. lie wore a 
thin, short beard, and his bail* was just in the 
struggle of turning from gray to white. Ills 
mouth was strong and tiim. He was a trifle 
round-shouldered, and carried his head a little 
in advance of his body. He looked keenly at 
John, and held out his baud in a sharp, busi¬ 
ness-like way. 
“Glad to sec you, Judge,” he said. “You’re 
gouter take the old Bell place, 1 reckon. I'm 
glad you be—you’ll be neighbors to me.” 
“Yes, an' I’m gouter move right out,” said 
Johu, “but, look here—I ain’t no Judge at all. 
They* give me the name up to the tavern, but 
I duuuo 1 how they come by it.” 
“That’s all right,” the new friend laughed. 
“You’ll git, used to that after awhile. Every- 
body here has to he somethin’, when, right 
down to business, they ain’t nothin’. (Some¬ 
thin’ like the two fellers up here to Memphis.” 
Colonel Fair cleared his throat and coaxed 
his face into the self-satisfied expression that 
comes to announce a good story. 
“A couple of these fellers—lawyers they was 
—went up there to ’tend Court. They got to 
talkin’ an’ at last one of ’em says, 'By tho 
way, I’ve been told that I look jest like, the 
poet Byron—do you reckon there’s any truth 
in that story f The other feller looked at him 
sorter sharp, an’ then says, “I reckon so—vou 
do look jest like him, I reckon.’ Tbe talk went 
on till after aw hile the second feller say*s—'By 
the way, a heap of my tricuds say that 1 re¬ 
mind them of Thomas Jefferson—what do you 
reckon about that?' The first feller looked at 
him pretty sharp an’ then says, ‘Well, sar, I 
can’t see no resemblance at all ’ The second 
feller he drawed off an’said—*No,sar, and you 
don’t look no more like Byron than my old 
mule does.’” 
Johu laughed heartily at this story and 
Colouel Fair went on to apply it. 
“Now look at, them men set Liu' iu front of 
that store,” and he pointed to the nearest 
group. ‘’There’s a cap’u, two majors, a doc¬ 
tor, an’ two colonels, an' I’ll bet there aiu't, 
two of ’em that’s got any real hold cu his title. 
They just set there an’ carry out the play. 
Them tellers jest set. there all day long an’ tell 
how muuy slaves their fathers used to have, 
an’cuss this free nigger labor. While they 
are wtnriu’ the | aiut away from them chairs, 
the niggers are wearin’ out their arms for 
’em.” 
John was a little surprised at this plain talk. 
This man was evidently not in the least afraid 
of being shot. 
“What, sort of a country is this anyway?” 
He asked the question to draw out his new 
friend. Somehow he liked these blunt sen¬ 
tences, 
“The country’s all right if tho people only 
had some git up to ’em. They just lay right 
back and make the niggers do all the work. 
How many white men do you see a workin’ 
on this street ? You go through the country 
au’ you’ll find it jest so all along. 'When a 
man comes down here ready to dip iu an’ 
work, lie'll do fine. This country won’t be 
much till these boys grow up. I tell ’em 
that, all these old fellers have got to die off be¬ 
fore the country kiu come up. These old chaps 
live way back yonder. They fight every’ new 
idee.” 
(To be Contiyined.) 
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Previous to lssii I found no relief, but grew worse, 
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Hood’s Sarsaparilla 
Sold by nil druggists. $ 1 ; six for $5. Made 
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