JAW 7 
SUPPLEMENT TO THE BUBAL WEW-YOBRER* 
ANDERSONVILLE VIOLETS. 
Copyrighted by the Rural New-Yorker. 
All rights reserved. 
chapter xiu.—(Continued.) 
At this moment the supper bell rang, and 
Mr. Battle put the little girl down and beck¬ 
oned the others to follow him into the dining 
room. 
“I guess we’d better sorter fill up our places 
hadn’t we?” be said as he led the way from 
the piazza. “Don’t it beat all though what 
they give us t’eat here? I’m dogged ef I know 
what I’m eatiu’ half the time, but I jest shet 
my eyes an’ risk it.” 
He was not entirely satisfied yet for he'stop- 
ped John in the middle of the hall to whisper: 
“Of course I- don’t know who you be—don’t 
make no special odds what my politics is you 
understand—that’s jest me an’ you talkin’.” 
The supper was a pleasanter meal to John 
and Nellie than the dinner had been. Mr. 
Battle was a great help. He talked to every 
one and asked question after question. The 
boarders seemed to regard him with a pitying 
scorn, but he never noticed it. 
“What’s them?” he asked as the waiter 
handed him a new dish. 
“Grits,” was the answer. 
“What be they made of? I’m sorter new 
here ye see, an’ 1 wanter be able to answer all 
questions when I git home. I expect I’ll be in 
the wetness stand fer quite a spell ” 
The supper came to au end at last aud John 
and Nellie went to their own room. Here 
they were followed by Mr. Battle. 
“I s’pose you folks is singers ain’t ye?” he 
asked after a short conversation. “Because 
if ye be, there ain’t no reason why we can’t 
have us a good sing. I sing bass myself—T 
do There’s a sort of an organ like into my 
room, an’ ’pears ter me we might sing a tune 
or two without no trouble.” 
They all adjourned to Mr. Battle’# room, 
where the “sort of an organ like,” proved to 
be an old-fashioned inelodion. With Nellie 
at this instrument and John and Mr. Battle 
to sing they began. In a short time one after 
another of the boarders dropped in and quite 
a large choir was formed. This little “sing” 
did them all good. When they stopped at 
last aud John and Nellie went to their own 
room, Mr. Battle seemed to feel that he ought 
to say a word to cheer the young people. 
Perhaps he feared that his own dismal view 
of Southei n society might make them homesick. 
“I ’spose like enough you may feel sorter 
homesick, Mis’ Rockwell. Ye musn’t do that, 
’twon’t do ye no good. My folks to home is 
sorter alone I expect, but I sorter fixed things 
sos’t they’ll git along. I went out an’ gut ’em 
a ham, there’s milk an’ bread comes right to 
the door an’ all these things. I expect they’ll 
git along fust-rate.” 
CHAPTER XIV. 
Sunday morning found our friends up 
bright and early. Mr. Battle took his station 
on the piazza within sight of the dining-room 
door. When John appeared, the old gentle¬ 
man at once picked up the discussion of the 
night before. 
“How’s all the folks this mornin’?” he asked 
as he shook John’s hand. “Beats all how hol¬ 
ler a feller gits in this climate, don’t it?” he 
added as he glanced in the direction of the 
cook-house. ‘ Tf I was runnin’ this place I’d 
had them niggers rousted out long afore this. 
It beats all how these niggers lives, don’t it?” 
Mr. Battle dropped into his confidential tone 
again. “I gut me a boss t’other day an’ rode 
.out inter the country a piece. I kinder 
thought I’d go inter one of these cabins* jest 
ter see how they looked. They told me it was 
jest as they have it in winter. Don’t never 
fix nothin’ up. I could take me a pile of 
boards an’ throw ’em into a better house than 
them folks had, easy. Big cracks under the 
door, an’ holes in the sides big enough for 
me to shove my hand through anywhere. 
There they live, jest like that. I could see 
jest how ’tis. What’s your idees about ’em.’ 
John was getting a little nettled at the old 
gentleman’s talk. He could not help remem¬ 
bering what Sol had done for him years be¬ 
fore, and how that despised negro cabin had 
seemed like home to him. 
“My idee is,” he said stoutly, “that the dar¬ 
keys would come out all right if’they only had 
a chance. They’re gonter do jestj what the 
white folks do. If white folks shirk an’ loaf 
around, ye can’t blame the darkey for doin’ 
the same thing. I ain’t gonter be ser quick 
ter give this thing up till I see some of ’em 
have a fair chance.” 
This was a long speech for John to make, 
but he meant every word of it, and Mr. Battle 
made haste to put himself in a position where 
he could reach either side of the question. 
“Like enough that’s so—like enough they 
ain’t had no fair chance. You train’em up 
an’ give ’em a chance au’ they might do fust 
rate. I ain’t gut no idea that I’m a gonter 
stay here an’ try it myself, though. 
He was about to answer Mr. Battle in a 
very forcible manner, when Nellie—who had 
probably heard part of the conversation 
came from her room. When she came Jo mi 
forgot all about the argument, and Mr. Battle 
entirely forgave the late cook as he played 
with little Nellie. He got a chance at John 
again as they went in to breakfast. 
“I dunno’ who you be, of course, but I’ll be 
dogged if I don’t like ye. If you ever come 
’round within gunshot of me, I want you to 
hunt me up.” 
It did not seem like a Sunday morning 
breakfast to John aud Nellie. There were no 
baked beans on the table. It is a fact that the 
true New Englander sadly misses this tooth¬ 
some evidence of the day of rest. The bean 
worshippers are sincere in their religion how 
sincere they themselves do not know until they 
go into the land of “hog and hominy.” After 
breakfast John and Nellie walked through the 
town and out to a hill that rose just behind an 
old church. They left Mr. Battle discussing 
religion with one of the boarders. 
The streets were dull and deserted. The 
stores were all closed, and save a small group 
in front of the court-house, there were no 
white men to be seen. A barber’s shop was 
open, and a number of negroes lounged about 
in the sun. Out on the hill they sat under a 
large tree aud looked down upon the village. 
They sat there and talked as only such a fam¬ 
ily ever can talk—words of sympathy, of 
strength and of tenderness—till the bell on the 
church below them began to ring out the first 
call to worship. The sound of the bell seemed 
to carry their thoughts back to the gray old 
church at Breezetown. They could see the 
old home picture as they sat in the sunshine 
looking down over the dull town. 
The white-haired sexton was pulling slowly 
and heavily at the bell rope. The rope coiled 
aud twisted about his feet as though seeking to 
trip him up. The church stood open aud the 
bright sunshine was working its way up over 
the battered pews to the pulpit. The little 
organ was opened. The choir had been prac¬ 
ticing. It would take a wonderful amount of 
practising to fill the gap caused by the loss of 
John and Nellie. The rough farm wagons 
laden with worshippers were crawling lazily 
over the sandy road. The flowers in the min¬ 
ister’s garden were nodding brightly in the 
sun. The birds were singing in the little grove 
back of the church. There would be a vacant 
space in Uncle Nathan’s pew that would make 
many a heart sad and add a tenderness to the 
minister’s prayer. It was the hardest hour iu 
the lives of John and Nellie—worse than the 
parting at borne. They began to realize at 
last how far they had gone from the old life, 
and what a lonely, heart-breaking work it 
would be to grow up into this new one. But 
they never doubted and never questioned. 
They looked at the little girl and then at each 
other and were satisfied. 
The bell brought them to their feet and they 
walked slowly back to the hotel to prepare 
for church. The very thought of worship 
seemed to give them comfort. Just as the 
sound of the bell carried them back, in 
thought, to the old home, with all its cher¬ 
ished associations, so the very thought of go¬ 
ing to church seemed to strengthen them and 
drive the homesickness away. 
They were indebted to Mr. Battle for facts 
concerning the religious condition of the com¬ 
munity. Mr. Battle had spent the morning 
in drawing out his fellow boarders. He had 
obtained much valuable information which 
he made haste to condense for the benefit 
of John and Nellie. He was on the watch 
for them, and on their return, he followed 
them into their room and carefully shut the 
door. 
“Where ye goin’ to church this mornin’?” 
he asked. “It would be a good thing for ye 
to go, I s'pose. Give ye a good chance to see 
how folks looks an’ then agin it’ll show folks 
that yer all ready ter chum right in with era’. 
Guess we’d better go’long, hadn’t we?” 
“I’m gonter find my church an’ go to that” 
said John simply. 
“What church is yourn? I guess I kin tell 
ye somethin’ about that. I’ve kinder talked 
things over with some of the folks.” 
“I am a Unitarian” said John. 
“Oh you be?” 
Mr. Battle had not the least idea iu the 
world what “Unitarian” meant, and he made 
haste to change the drift of the conversation 
a little. 
“I guess yer sorter like me. I don’t favor 
no ’special church. I go to ’em all sos’t ter 
show that there ain’t no feelin’ agin ’em. 
Can’t nobody say I’ve ever slighted any of 
’em. You folks ain’t gut no church here. 
The Methodists an’ the Baptists ’pear ter have 
the crowd in this place. Them Presbyterians 
seems ter be sorter strong, but they’re sorter 
split up like. That makes ’em sorter weak¬ 
enin’. I guess we’d better go ’round ter the 
Methodist this mornin’ hadn’t we? I’ve sorter 
figgered it out, and ’pears ter me that’s our 
best holt. Our landlady here is a Methodist, 
an’ that might make a little difference on 
board. Then agin there . was a feller! this 
mornin’ said he’d kinder like ter have us set 
up iu the choir. I ’spose he heard our music 
last night. Like enough he heard me siugin 
bass. Guess we’d better go ’round, hadn’t we? 
Ye see they’re buildin’ a new church now, 
sos’t they hold services in the court-house. 
Sorter give ye a chance ter look ’round that 
too.” 
As Mr. Battle"was talking the lady of the 
bouse came to the door and invited John aud 
Nellie to attend her church. Her invitation 
had more effect than Mr. Battle’s arguments, 
and the young people gladly accepted. They 
soon started for the court-house under the pi¬ 
lotage of Mr. Battle, who seemed to feel that 
they were under his immediate charge. 
“They’s one sorter curus thing about this 
church business,” remarked the guide as they 
reached the street. “The niggers don’t go to 
the same church that the white people do, at 
all. They sorter git off by themselves an’ 
have preachin’. As nigh as I can come at it, 
from what they tell me, the Methodist church 
sorter split like w’hen the war bruck out an’ 
they ain’t never come back except that the 
niggers is sorter- in with the Northern end 
whilst the Southern end sorter hangs out. 
P’raps I ain’t gut it straight, but ’pears ter me 
the niggers an 1 the white Methodists up North 
| forms one sorter church, au’ the folks here is 
sorter in another click. Beats all, don’t it? 
They say these niggers ain’t got no idee of re¬ 
ligion at all. They jest go off by themselves, 
an’ folks say it beats all what they do an’ say.’ 
John studied a while before he made any an¬ 
swer. Such talk made him think of the mat¬ 
ter as he had never done before. He looked 
at several groups of negroes that passed on 
their way to church. The men were neatly 
dressed, and the women were radiant in many 
colored costumes. At last he said slowly: 
“It ’pears to me that that’s jest where these 
folks makes a big mistake. They send these 
darkies ’way off somewhere where there ain’t 
nobody to show ’em what's right, an’ then 
blame’em because they don’t do as well as 
white folks. I don’t s’pose that the common 
run of these darkies has got much sense, but it 
ain’t agoin’ to give ’em any more to send ’em 
way off by themselves. You set a fool to 
teachin’ fools, an’ you’ll raise fools faster’n ye 
can take care of ’em.” 
This was a new line of thought to Mr. Bat¬ 
tle. He could only say:—“Like enough that’s 
so.” By the time he had found any other an’ 
swer they had reached the court-house. 
A small group of young men stood about the 
door. These stood back as John’s party ap¬ 
proached. Once inside, a tall man at the end 
of the room rose and beckoned them to a seat 
at the front. After taking their seats, they 
looked carefully about them. They were in a 
large, high hall. The walls were discoloied 
in many places, and a coluny of industrious 
spiders had left their marks all over the cor¬ 
ners of the ceiling. A light railing maiked 
off perhaps one-third of the room—drawing 
the dividing line between lawyers and specta¬ 
tors. The seats were low and rough, and 
many an industrious kuife had used them foi 
an autograph album. The men sat on one side 
of the room while the women tilled the other. 
Behind the bar, at one side, sat a line of old, 
white-haired men with their heads bent for¬ 
ward upon their canes. At the other side, the 
members of the choir were gathered about a 
small organ. The singers were mostly bright, 
young girls, there being but three men to hold 
up the masculine portion of the music. Mr. 
Battle went up aud took his.seat with the 
choir. He tried to get John and Nellie to fol¬ 
low him, but they preferred to stay in the 
Congregation. The preacher sat on a little 
platform at the extreme end of the room. It 
was the place usually reserved for the Judge. 
Just over his head stood a small statue of 
“Justice.” By some accident, the bandage 
over the eyes of this image had been broken, 
and one eye looked carefully at the scales held 
in the hand. The dust of time and neglect had 
done its best to take the place of the bandage j 
but it was not much of a success. The eye still 
kept upon the scales. 
The church services were conducted with 
spirit and dignity. There was nothing about 
the sermon that could not have been said at 
the old church at Breezetown. Many of the 
expressions seemed odd to the New England 
people—as, for instance, the preacher spoke of 
giving a great “dining.” In making au illus¬ 
tration of the freedom of salvation, he said: 
“Suppose you were all invited to attend a 
great dining. You would all go, I reckon. 
The man who gave the dining would come out 
of his house and say, ‘You are all free to come’ 
_this is for you. You are all free to attend 
this dining.” 
John had somehow expected that the preach¬ 
er would allude to the political situation iu 
his sermon. There was nothing of the kind to 
be observed. The sermon was simply a plain, 
earnest talk and John felt better after hearing 
it. The hymns, in w'hich Mr. Battle’s bass 
did yeoman service, were well sung. There 
was one deep alto voice in the choir that swept 
like a flood of melody through the hymns. 
At the last prayer the|people all.knelt together. 
The sun shone brightly on the white-haired 
group at the side. The old men prayed earn¬ 
estly with their arms thrown over the railing. 
Kneeling there at their side it did not seem 
possible to John that he had fought these men 
and that these women had cursed him so ter¬ 
ribly. 
One thing happened that caused John a 
great deal of study. As he entered the build¬ 
ing be had noticed a man of about his own 
age standing near the door. This man stood 
inahumble, lifeless attitude with bishatpulled 
down over his eyes. John could only see a por¬ 
tion of the face, but there was something about 
it that made him stop in surprise. He^could 
not tell what it was—he was ashamed of him¬ 
self for stopping—yet when Nellie pulled at 
his arm he went on into the court-house trying 
to think where he had seen that face before. 
It seemed burned upon his memory and yet 
he could not tell where it had looked into his 
life. The man at the door did not notice John 
at all. He pushed farther into the corner, but 
his eyes w'ere bent upon a young woman who 
came slowly up the steps just behind John and 
Nellie. He kept his eyes on the ground as she 
came in the door, only now and then glauciug 
up at her face. She walked proudly past him 
without even looking in his direction. 
She was a small woman—about as large 
as Nellie. Her hair was black as jet aud her 
face pale and pinched. Her eyes seemed 
to flash as she passed by the man in the 
doorway, and her mouth came firmly to¬ 
gether as she turned her head away. 
The man hung his head still lower as she en¬ 
tered the room. He came in at length, anil 
sat on the end of the row where she was sit¬ 
ting. He kept his eyes straight ahead, and 
never looked at her until she bent forward 
during the last prayer. Then he watched her 
with a wistful look in his eyes. After the ser¬ 
vice he walked slowly out with the rest. He 
seemed to be alone. Few people spoke to him 
and John saw him at last mount his horse and 
ride slowly out of town. 
John and Nellie talked about him as they 
walked home from church. Mr. Battle stayed 
behind. He wished to practice with the choir, 
and there was a good prospect ot his being in¬ 
vited to address the Sunday-school. John 
was greatly puzzled. He could not bring him¬ 
self to remember where he had seen that face, 
aud yet he remembered it well. Nellie laughed 
at him. She had only noticed that the strange 
man was dreadfully in love with the pale wo¬ 
man in black. She was glad John had noticed 
the man, for now he could tell just how he 
had looked on a certain memorable occasion. 
John laughed at this and said he was sure he 
had never looked quite like that; but Nellie 
was sure of it, so he said nothing more about 
it, though he still studied away to try and see 
if he could not tell where he had seen the 
stranger. 
As they walked slowly onward, a man came 
briskly behind them. John turned aside to 
make room for passing, but the newcomer did 
not seem at all disposed to hurry by. He 
seemed so evidently desirous of speaking that 
John nodded and at last Leld out his hand. 
The stranger shook the proffered hand heart¬ 
ily- 
“Mr. Rockwell, I reckon,” he said. 
“Yes, sir; that’s my name,” answered John. 
“I’m mighty glad to see you, sar,” said the 
newcomer as he shook hands again. “My 
name is Bond—David Bond. 1 come from 
Iowa. 1 heard taat you come in last night, 
an’ 1 wanted to speak to 3 e after preachin’ 
but somehow i didn’t like to botner ye. My 
wife thought I’d better step along an’ invite 
ye to come round an’ eat dinner with us. W e 
ain’t gut no great show, but such as ’tis we’d 
like to have ye come an’ eat.” 
There was a bluff heartiness^about this invi¬ 
tation that pleased John aud Nellie greatly 
It-como iipm-pr tlip home stvlp. of rioiiio- sue! 
It came nearer the home style of doing such 
things than anything they had found since 
they had left New England. They accepted 
at once, and followed Mr. Bond up a side 
street till he stopped before a little cottage 
that stood back from the street in a perfect 
mass of vines and trees. “This is my place,” 
said Mr. Bond, as he opened the gate for them 
to pass through. 
Mrs. Bond stood at the front of the house to 
welcome them. She was a thin, sickly 
woman with a sweet, patient face that told of 
strengthening suffering. She greeted the new¬ 
comers so pleasantly that Nellie could not 
help kissing her. This act tended to bring 
out the best possible feeling among the whole 
party. John and Mr. Bond of course had to 
shake hands again, and Mr. and Mrs. Bond 
had to kiss little Nellie, while John gathered 
about him the small army of little people that 
came trooping out of the house. Nellie after¬ 
wards told John that it seemed just like 
meeting “home folks.” 
(To be Continued.) 
