the bubal mew-yomee 
■ andersonville violets. 
Copyrighted by the Rural Neto-Yorker. 
All rights reserved. 
chapter xv.—( Continued.) 
“They’re sorter lazy, an’ then ag’in, they 
all wanter be boss. They kin all talk some 
big scheme about doin’ things in a hurry, but 
you talk to em about usin’ a lighter hoe, or 
plowin’ deeper, an’ they won’t listen to ye. 
Some like the story I heard a feller tell once 
shout General Scott. They was fightin’ the 
Mexicans, an’ old Scott had his hands about 
full. Jest when the. fight gut hottest, there 
i-j 7. up a cloud o' dust about a half a mile, back 
of Scott’s headquarters. Nobody lniowed 
what ’twas. A squad rode back to look things 
up, au’ when they come near they see a crowd 
of men markin’ time in the road—jest kickin’ 
up a big dust. The officer called out “Who 
are ye?" One man stopped markin’ time an’ 
yelled back “A regiment of Kentucky kei nels 
come to reinforce Scott!'’ There war n't a pri¬ 
vate in the whole crowd—nobody to obey or¬ 
ders, and there they stood markin’ time.” 
As Colonel Fair finished his story, and be¬ 
fore he could make any application, a horse¬ 
man came riding slowly in at the gate. He 
directed his horse up the driveway, and when 
within a short distance of the bouse stopped 
and held up several letters to indicate that he 
had brought the mail. John recognized the 
horseman at once. It was the man he had seen 
at the Court-house who had watched the pale 
woman iu black so closely, John knew he 
had seen that face before, and yet ho could 
not tell where. He was glad to follow Colonel 
Fair - down to the fence. He hoped to get a 
better look at the horseman. He followed so 
closely that au introduction was absolutely 
necessary. 
The two men shook hands and glanced 
closely at each other. The name of Foster 
brought no intelligence to John, He knew he 
bad never spoken with the man before, and yet 
there was something in the face that seemed 
natural. Jack Foster—for it was surely he 
—looked down into John's face with a puz¬ 
zled expression. Where had he seen this tall 
Yankee.before? He started once, as if about 
to speak, but at last, after a few commonplace 
remarks, he turned his horse and rode slowly 
. back to the gate. Half way down the road 
he turned back for another look at John. He 
nodded his head aud closed his mouth firmly, 
while a bitter look crept over his face. Every 
movement of that little drama that had so 
rudely broken his life, had been burned deep¬ 
ly into his memory. That famine-stricken 
face, looking up from that terrible Anderson¬ 
ville., rose in his mind again. He knew that 
John was the desperate prisoner. The man 
for whose sake he had killed his own happi¬ 
ness, had come to live near him. 
“Maybe he’s come to bring me good luck,” 
he muttered grimly. “He can’t bring any 
more bad luck, 1 reckon.” 
“There’s a man that ortermake a good 
neighbor if somebody could ouly stir him up a 
little” said Col. Fair, as Jack Foster rode 
away. “They don’t like him fust-rate’round 
here. They’ve gut somethin agin him that 
dates way back to*tbe war. He done some¬ 
thin’, I can’t make out jest what it is, that 
they can’t never git over. He went back on 
'em some way. He ain’t no coward, for I’ve 
seen him fight. But there’s somethin’ wrong 
an' they don’t trust him. He won’t never 
say nothin’ about it to me. He’s a good sharp 
feller, but somehow lie ain’t gut no ambition 
co fix up his place an’ be somebody.” 
As John started back to work at his own 
plantation, Mrs. Fair came and invited him 
to bring Nellie and stay until his own 
house could be arranged. Col. Fair seconded 
the invitation so heartily that John accepted 
at once. He rode back to town, stopping only 
for a moment at the plantation to see that the 
work of cleaning was still going on. It was 
“going on” but so slowly that he saw it would 
never be finished until he superintended it 
in person. The negroes .were applying the 
hot water as tenderly as they would have ap¬ 
plied it to their own bodies. It is wonderful 
how laziness cultivates pity. The lazy man 
always seems to feel that the object upon 
which his work is exerted is in danger of 
being seriously injured. 
John rode into town and lit:! a busy after¬ 
noon. He bought a pair of horses aud a wagon 
and such tools as he needed for immediate 
work. The little luggage that he had brought 
from New England was at the depot. With 
Nellie’s help, he selected enough furniture to 
furnish a few rooms of the great house. John 
was glad to be at work again. He worked 
with au energy that fairly surprised the 
natives. The men who sat in front of the 
stores watched him with sneers. 
“He works mighty brash don’t he?” they 
muttered. “He’ll git over that afore he’s hen 
here long.” 
John gave his socig .1 standing a staggering 
blow before he event home. On bis way to 
the hotel he stopped at the village well for a 
drink of water. Au old white-haired negro, 
bent and twisted with age came hobbling up 
just as John reached the well. The old fellow 
caught hold of the lope to draw the water. 
He was pulling feebly at the heavy weight 
when John took the rope out of his hands. 
;’Let me pull it Uncle” he said “I s'pose I’ve 
gut more muscle than you have.” 
Of course he should have waited and made 
the old felloiv pull the weight alone, tut John 
had curious notions with regard to gray hairs. 
He pulled up the water aud then actually 
filled the cu^ and handed it to the old negro 
before he drank himself. The old fellow 
pulled oft’ his hat in his great pleasure at this 
compliment. He did not take the cup, but 
motioned John to drink first. When John 
walked up the street, the old fellow stood 
watching him with admiring eyes. 
After supper John sat ouihe piazza and told 
his vdfe and little Nellie all about the day’s 
adventures. Mr. Battle was greatly inter¬ 
ested in the story. He followed the party from 
their room, and questioned John very closely 
with regard to his plans and the value of the 
plantation. 
“I s’pose you’ve gut quite a place out there 
ain’t ye ? Must be worth a hundred thousand 
dollars, I expect.” 
“I don’t knowsaid John, cautiously. He 
was getting a little tired of this constant ques¬ 
tioning. 
“Wal, call it seventy five thousand—it must 
be .worth that, I s’pose—ain't it?” 
“1 don’t know,"’ was John’s only answer. 
“Wal, say sixty thousand—there ain’t no 
doubt about that, I s'pose?” 
“I don’t know how ’tis.” 
“Wal, say fifty thousand—it can’t be any 
less than that, can it ?” 
John did not know, and Mr. Battle very 
accommodatingly reduced the price to twenty- 
five thousand. This had no better effect, and 
at last he changed his tactics a little. 
“I s’pose you’re somethin’ like a feller that 
lived in our town a number o’ years ago. He 
was a good, honest feller, but somehow or 
nuther he didn’t seem ter git along- fust-rate. 
Folks sorter made fun of him. He couldn’t go 
nowheres but he’d be the fool of the crowd. 
Gut so at last that he went away, an’ folks 
sorter torgot him. After a year or so back he 
come, an’ I tell ye folks didn’t make no' more 
fun o’ him. He’d done fust-rate iu some new 
country, an’ 1 s’pose he cud buy an’ sell ’em 
all.” 
Mr. Battle might have produced other facts 
concerning his friend, had not the sound of 
the melodion attracted his attention at this 
moment. He was pulled out of his chair by 
the music. 
“Better come in an' sing hadn’t ye ?*’ he asked 
as he rose to go. 
John and Nellie excused themselves. They 
were tired, and they wished to talk over the 
events of the day. So Mr. Battle went alone. 
In a short time they heard his bass forming a 
strong combination with the instrument. 
They were glad to see him go. They wished 
to talk alone. 
John and Nellie sat and talked till the little 
giil fell asleep on her mother’s lap. Then the 
little family went to their room. 
"Do you know John,” said Nellie, “as they 
stood watching the child asleep, “that I feel 
somehow that we are going to meet the 
man who let you get those flowers in that 
prison.” 
“And I believe I’ve seen him already,” said 
John quickly, and he told her about Jack 
Foster and how he knew He bad seen the man 
before. 
“What if it should be him?” he asked sud¬ 
denly. 
“1 hope it is: I shall be very glad for I want 
to say something to him.” 
“What is it?” demanded John. 
“Oh you must wait and see,” and the little 
woman reached up to kiss her husband. 
CHAPTER XVI. 
The rest of the week was packed full of 
work for John and Nellie. There was more 
to be done than they had supposed. After 
lookiug the house over carefully John decided 
to make some extended repairs. This work 
would take some little time, and Nellie decided 
to stay with Mrs. Fair rather than try and 
occupy the house before it could be finished. 
She came to the plantation every day and 
helped John arrange for the future. John 
worked hard and thoughtfully. Acting upon 
Colonel Fair’s advice he determined to clear 
out half the negro cabins and turn them into 
stables or shelters for stock. Most of the 
negroes were^ working “on shares.” He was 
able to arrange with them to leave when the 
crop should be gathered. Load after load of 
lumber was brought cut from town, and John 
vi orked early and late to complete his arrange¬ 
ment s fer stock-growing. 
Like most Northern men John made a mis¬ 
take, at first, m dealing with the negroes. Ho 
was too easy with them, and he expected 
them to do ordinary work without direction. 
He soon found that they took advantage of 
his lack of firmness. They became so familiar 
that he was obliged to be very strict w it h them 
in order that they might know their place- 
They were like great children in many things. 
Careless and good-natured, they would laugh 
and sing'or lie about in the sun and play some 
simple game. Well superintended and kept in 
good spirits, they did fair work, hut the great 
majority of them were unable to plan their 
own work to any advantage. After John 
came to understand them, he got on better 
with his woi k than be did at first. He found, 
after many sore trials, that about the only 
way to succeed with the present system of ne¬ 
gro labor is to give the negro to understand 
that he cannot enter the*white man’s place. 
Such unfortunately is the present idea. There 
are in every community a few clear-headed 
and dignified negioes, but the great masses of 
black workmen are ignorant and cannot be 
governed as one would gover n men of intelli¬ 
gence. 
As John studied the matter this question 
came up in his mind: “What shall we do with 
tills mass of workmen when they learn, as 
they surely will, something of the dignity of 
manhood ?” It will be impossible then to treat 
them as they are treated now. To say that 
they will not improve and grow out of their 
present ignorance, is to say that all history is 
a lie. John brought himself to believe that 
behind the negro’s mask of ignorance and 
carelessness there lie the germs of a new man¬ 
hood that will surely push to the outside. To 
be sure, the most of his negroes were lazy and 
careless. They were shockingly immoral. He 
was obliged to admit that he could not possi¬ 
bly allow them to eat at his table, or appear 
in tis fan ily, except as servants. Yet there 
were keen-minded aud thoughtful negroes. 
Even his careless workmen, when they thought 
they had his entire confidence, showed that 
there was a little something of sober manhood 
hidden behind their black faces. Tba man¬ 
hood will be developed—slowly, it may be im- 
perceptably—yet it will grow, and must in 
time assert itself. 
A common impression prevails at the North 
that the Southern man treats the negro cru¬ 
elly. The few old cases of slave whipping or 
starving are quoted as being fair examples of 
the way in which the negroes were treated 
before the war. This idea is not a just one. 
The Southern man aims to treat the negro 
kindly, and to see that he does not suffer. 
There is no thought of a possible equality. He 
is simply dealing with a “nigger,” who is 
treated kindly or affectionately, just as one 
would show affection for the family horse or 
the family cow. 
People do not even blame the negro partic¬ 
ularly for the part he took in the “Radical” 
government. The blame is laid upon the “Rad¬ 
icals” who organized the negroes and supplied 
the brain power of the movement. The negro 
is regarded generally as harmless when left to 
himself, and treated as a valuable animal 
would be treated—kindly but, firmly. Ho was 
simply a tool in the hands of designing “Car¬ 
pet Baggers. ” There was no particular reason 
why he should be greatly blamed for what had 
taken place. When we consider the condition 
of the ordinary negro, and the course of treat¬ 
ment that has placed him in his present posi¬ 
tion, we can understand why he is treated as 
he is, and what a disgust fills the heart of the 
Southern man or woman at the bare sugges¬ 
tion of living on terms of equality with former 
slaves. 
John fought through the war with the be¬ 
lief that the sole object of the struggle was to 
free the slaves. Such was the real object, 
though it was covered for a time by questions 
of political economy. John came to the South 
with the idea firmly fixed in his mind that all 
the negro needed to make him a good citizen 
was a little encouragement and practical ex¬ 
ample. He had common sense enough to see, 
after a few weeks, that Northern arguments 
and theories would not work on Southern soil. 
While the Northern theory of negro advance¬ 
ment aud intelligence might work to perfec¬ 
tion in Pennsylvania or New York, it was 
destined to make a complete and ridiculous 
failure at the South, at the present day, for 
the simple reason that there was no one to 
help the negro develop himself. He must do 
the work alone. Surrounded as he was by 
men and circumstances so directly opposed to 
his rapid advancement in intelligence and dig- 
nity, it was absurd to suppose that strange 
men, having only a theorist’s idea of his na¬ 
ture and capabilities, men who could not even 
command the entire confidence of the commu¬ 
nities in which they live, could deal with him 
as they would have dealt with ignorant woi k- 
men at home. 
As matters stand to-day—with the _brains, 
the money and the majority of his party hun¬ 
dreds of miles away from him—the negro 
must work out his own .social and political 
freedom. He can do it only by showing him¬ 
self worthy to be called a man. He can do it 
only by writing a man’s record on the pages 
of history. It will be a long and heart-b reak- 
ing work, but the work will only develop a 
truer and nobler manhood. The white man 
can assist his black neighbor as a child might 
be taught—not by assuming that both are 
upon an equality, but by patient yet firm 
teaching—better yet by practical examples of 
industry and manhood. 
It was a little awkward at first for John aud 
Nellie to assume the roles of master and mis¬ 
tress. They had done all their own work so 
long that they hard 13' knew, at first, how to 
direct the labop of -o many childish people. 
No doubt they made mistakes at first, but af¬ 
ter a little study the mantle of authority fell 
easily about them, and they were able to di¬ 
rect the work with dignity and decision. 
The first day that Nellie*came to the planta¬ 
tion, as she came up to the little gate before 
the house, an old negro woman, bent and 
wrinkled, came hobbling down from the steps. 
The poor old creature peered with her dim 
eyes at the new-comers and turned aside into 
the grass that they might pass her. Nellie 
hurried forward to open the gate. She stood 
beside it, and smilingly invited the old woman 
to passthrough before her. Bowing and 
ducking with pleasure, the old creature came 
through. She paused to peer into Nellie’s smil¬ 
ing face. 
“You is poofy honey—I ’dare you is” she 
said as she dropped a courtesy that seemed 
like the starting of a rusty machine. “Y r ou is 
po’ful pooty you is.” * 
Nellie blushed with pleasure at this direct 
compliment, and John seemed to appreciate it 
too. The old woman started mumbling away 
when she caught a look at John's face. Slio 
stopped and held one withered hand before 
her e3'es that she might examine him eare- 
full} r . She raised her stick and pointed it at 
him as she spoke slowly. • 
“I know youse—I reckon )'ou done stop at 
de ole cabin in Georgy when you all kill dat 
dorg.” 
As she spoke a tall negro, black as coal and 
straight as an arrow came walking past the 
corner of the house. The old woman looked 
at him proudly. 
“Dere’s Solermuu” she chuckled “I reckon 
youse ’member him sho’ miff.” 
John looked earnestly at the negro for a 
moment. The black man stood like a statue 
before him. 
“It is Sol”—said John as he sprang forward 
and held out his hand. It was the black 
soldier who had led the fugitives through the 
woods from Andersonville. A gleam of pleas¬ 
ure spread over the negro’s heavy face. He 
took off his hat and shook John’s hand with— 
“Howdy boss? I's po’ful glad to see you boss. 
—I reckon I is, she’ nuff.” 
Sol took little Nellie and raised her high in 
his strong arms. She was not in the least 
afraid of him. She laughed merrily, and when 
he settled her upon his shoulder, she wound 
her little arm about, his woolly head. She bad 
listened to the story of Sol’s bravery many 
times. To her childish eyes he was not simply 
a poor “nigger," but a man who had saved her 
dear father’s life. 
“Did you help my Papa an’Uncle Nathan 
when they were lost in the woods?” she asked, 
pushing up his face so that she could see him. 
“I reckon so, honey,” was all Sol could say. 
“I love you, then”—aud the dear little girl 
bent down and touched his black forehead 
with her rosebud mouth. 
“I love you”- -the wopds sank deep iuto the 
soul of that black man. “I love you”—siin pie 
words from a little child that knew nothing of 
the great gulf that opened between her race 
and the man she kissed. “I love 3-ou!” What 
a hopeless love it was, and yet who shall say 
that these simple words were thrown away ? 
Who can say that they may not kindle into 
, 
’ 
Nellie took Sol’s great haud in ber’s and 
thanked him with the tenderness that belongs 
to such a woman. He looked at her curiously 
and his lips came closely together. He d id not 
rub his bead and laugh, as most negroes would 
have done. He stood erect and firm like a 
man. The old negress had been watching the 
group carefully. She tottered up to Sol’s side 
and patted his arm affectionately. 
“You is a good boy Solerman. I d( ue tole- 
you dat we’s sho’ to come out all right. 1 is 
Solermun’s mammy,” she add d to the rest. 
“Aunt Jinny dey calls me alius. I is po’Ju! 
glad to see you all, bekase 1 tmks a heap ob 
3 ou all sence my ole man done gib me dat lit¬ 
tle fiag." 
(To be eontinued.) 
