THE RURAL NEW-YORKER. 
FES 4 
CiietffOj. 
ANDERSONVILLE VIOLETS. 
Copyrighted by the Rural New-Yorker. 
All rights reserved. 
chapter xvi. (Continued.) 
They all shook hauds with Aunt Jinny much 
to her delight, and then John led the way up 
to the house. Sol came last, carrying little 
Nellie on his shoulders. John brought chairs 
to the piazza for the company, but Sol would 
not sit down. He stood erect holding his hat 
in his hand. He seemed to feel the difference 
between himself and his former comrade. 
Aunt Jinny sat on the upper step and took lit¬ 
tle Nellie in her lap. The old slave crooned 
and rocked with the little girl until the latter 
laughed out in glee. 
Sol told his story simply and with few 
words. He went back to the old plantation 
after the surrender, intending to settle down 
and work for his parents. He did not lose his 
head as many of the negroes did during the 
period of reconstruction. He kept honestly 
at work, and tried to keep out of politics. 
The negroes obtained control of affairs, and 
for several years held the offices. Then came 
the days, or rather nights, of the Ku Klux. 
Sol’s father, a harmless old man, who had no 
weapon but a loose tongue, was taken from his 
house and whipped. Sol came upon the 
whipping party and with his axe knocked 
two of them senseless. His father died and 
Sol was obliged to run for his life. After a 
month’s absence he came back by night and 
brought his mother away. 
No one could tell how the two had wandered 
all through these years. Up and down through 
Alabama, through Mississippi, moving on 
aimlessly from year to year. They would 
work through one crop, and then wander on 
to seme new place. It is hard for the negro 
to build a new home without help. Once driv¬ 
en from his old home, and he wanders about 
aimlessly unless some stronger mind can 
direct him. Sol had heard that a Northern 
man had settled in the neighborhood. His 
mother had urged him to come and apply for 
work. The old woman had a reverence for 
Northern soldiers that nothing could destroy. 
So Sol had come. When the negro finished 
his story, John rose and shook hands with 
him again. 
“I want you to stay here, Sol,” he said; 
“you’re jest the man I want to help me.” 
“Tanky, boss. I’ll do de bes’ I knows,” said 
Sol as he looked anxiously at his mother. 
Nellie understood him at once. 
“She must stay here too, Sol.” she said 
quickly. “We will makeher comfortable and 
take good care of her.” 
Aunt Jinny looked up as Nellie spoke. 
“You is mighty pooty, honey, you is, sho’ 
nuff. I is old and mighty nigh def, I reckon, 
but I kin work vit, an’ I’ll take car ob little 
honey de bes’ I kin.” 
And so the wanderers found a home. One 
of the cabins was repaired and Sol and bis 
mother moved in at once. In their 
great gratitude John and Nellie were almost 
ready at first to treat the negroes as they 
would have treated white people; but Sol 
never stepped out of what he deemed to be his 
place. It was only in private, where he knew 
he had John’s confidence, that Sol would ever 
drop the negro and speak and think like a 
man. When other white people were about 
he was only a respectful servant. 
Colonel Fair called Sol a •‘likely nigger.” 
“You’re a good boy, I reckon,” he said. 
“You wauter behave an’ keep away from these 
night meetin’s. Jest keep to work an’ keep 
out q’ politics. Such fellers as you be never 
gut no office, did ye?” 
“I reck >n not boss,” was all Sol said. There 
was not a movement of his heavy face. 
CHAPTER XVII. 
The more John thought about Jack Foster, 
the more thoroughly he convinced himself 
that Jack was the sentinel who had spared his 
life at Amiersonville He hardly knew what 
to do in the matter—whether to go to Jack 
and s,.eak at once, or wait till some chance 
should open a conversation on the subject. He 
decided at last to wait. They did not see Jack 
again until the next Sunday, when they spent 
the day with Mrs. Fair. After dinner Colo¬ 
nel Fair and Johu sat on the piazza, when 
Jack Foster came riding slowly from town. 
They had been talking about him but a mo¬ 
ment before, and when he came in sight 
Colonel Fair hailed and beckoned him to 
come up to the house. After a moment’s hes¬ 
itation he turned his horse in at the gate and 
rode up to a tree, where he dismounted. 
Then he came up to the piazza. 
“Come in and have dinner,” said Colonel 
Fair. “I reckon you’re hungry after your 
ride.” 
Jack declined this invitation—he was not 
hungry, he said. Lucy’s pale face at church 
had driven all the hunger into his heart. He 
drew a chair up to the others, and tilted back 
on it against one of the pillars of the piazza. 
He looked at John keenly for a moment, and 
studied his face carefully. Then his eyes 
turned away and a dark look passed over his 
face. Johu longed to thank the man—to do 
something to show how he felt, but that dark 
look forbade such a thing. 
The three men talked of the crops, the wea¬ 
ther and general agriculture, until at last 
they drifted into a discussion of politics and 
the general condition of the country. Colonel 
Fair was pronounced and bitter in his denun¬ 
ciations of the people. Jack Foster listened 
attentively and at times answered some state¬ 
ments that seemed to him too strong. He 
talked like a well-informed man, but he did 
not enter into the discussion with any heart. 
His eyes kept wandering down the road in 
the direction of the town. There was a long¬ 
ing look in them at such times. *John had lit>- 
tie to do but sit and listen to the others. 
“I claim—as I always have claimed,” ar¬ 
gued Colonel Fair, “that this isa mighty good 
country. I reckon there’s room enough here 
for a heap o’ them poor folks up North, but 
they can’t never do nothin’ here till a heap o’ 
these old fellers dies off. There’s too many 
folks up there that care more for a home than 
they do for money. That’s jest the kind o’ 
folks this country needs, an’ it’s jest the kind 
o’ folks that ain’t cornin’ hera because they 
can’t git no society. They keep on goin’ out 
West, passin’ by this beautiful country till it’s 
too late to bring ’em here. They’ve gut to 
come in crowds an’ settle in colonies, an’ if 
they do that they’ll have a fight on their hands 
right away. They'll rally the niggers jest as 
sure as you live, an’ if they do that you’ve gut 
to do jest as ye did along back, or else let the 
niggers have a show. Now ain’t that so, Fos¬ 
ter?” 
“I reckon a heap of it is,” said Jack slowly, 
“but I don’t reckon there’s any way of help¬ 
ing it. There's a heap of folks here in this 
country that’s lazy and don’t know how to 
work. They are too proud to learn of you 
Yankees, and I don’t reckon there is anybody 
else to show them how. If you all could come 
down here and be like us, and not stir up our 
niggers we might get along well enough after 
awhile. If a man comes down here and 
minds his own business I won’t say a word 
against him, but its no more than natural 
that I should remember that I was whipped 
and that we just ground our noses in the dust 
for 10 years. Folks judge you all by the men 
that came down here after the war and 
ruined our niggers. I know there are good 
men at the North that perhaps ought to be 
here. We need them—I admit that—but I 
hain't got much heart to welcome them. I 
know very well they are different from our 
folks, and I don’t see how they can make them¬ 
selves feel at home. It’s n# use trying to get 
people in here that will be discontented and 
then want to quit. If I should go up into 
your country and say what I think and what 
I know about the niggers and about the war, 
I don’t reckon I could make as many friends 
as you have here.” 
The two men talked on in this strain for 
sometime. John could not help seeing how 
little they had in common after all. There 
could be but little confidence or concert of 
action between two such men. 
There was something about Jack Foster’s 
manner that repelled John. There was no 
chance to say the words he longed to say. 
Jack rose at last to take Lis leave. The con¬ 
versation had drifted into a discussion of the 
real ideas that held Northern and Southern 
men apart. John never forgot the last words 
of this discussion. Jack stood with his foot 
on the upper step as he said slowly: 
“I did a thing for a Yankee soldier once 
that I don’t reckon I could do again. It saved 
him, but I reckon it about ruined me.” 
He looked directly at Johu as he spoke. 
His voice was hard and there was a bitter 
look on his face. As he turned to pass down 
the steps, Mrs. Fair and Nellie with the little 
girl came from the "hall. Jack was intro¬ 
duced to the ladies. He almost started at the 
sight of Nellie. How much like the “little 
babe” she looked. He glanced at John uneas¬ 
ily and after a few words took leave of the 
party. Mounting his horse he rode slowlj r 
down to the road with his head hanging on 
his breast 
This little golden-haired woman, he 
thought, must have been the sister of that 
sick boy at Andersonville. Suppose he had 
shot this Yankee, what would stie have done? 
And then the thought of the long years of 
suffering and of Lucy’s scorn pushed the bet¬ 
ter feelings out of his heart. It seemed hard 
bo think that this man was living so happily, 
while he, who had spared the life on which 
so much happiness depended, was so miserable. 
John told Nellie all about what Jack had 
said to him. The little woman was much con¬ 
cerned over the matter. She was anxious to 
show her gratitude to Jack, and yet she could 
not tell how to do it. They felt so awkward 
and strange in their new position, and there 
seemed to be something about Jack Foster 
that made it impossible for them to approach 
him. It was evident that he recognized John, 
but it was yet more evident that there was 
something so very unpleasant about the mat¬ 
ter that he would not speak of it, nor willing¬ 
ly give them an opportunity of telling him 
what they wished to tell him. 
Just as the new life began to settle into its 
regular groove, a terrible feeling of home¬ 
sickness came to John and Nellie. The ex¬ 
citement of preparation and the novelty of 
the new life, had kept their thoughts away 
from their real condition for a time, but at last 
they were brought face to face with it. They 
longed with a terrible heart-hunger for the old 
familiar faces—for a glimpse of the old home. 
Their great house seemed desolate with no 
friends to share it with them. They had no 
one to fake into their confidence. People 
seemed to view them with suspicion. Every 
face seemed ready to curl itself up into a 
sneer. 
John and Nellie fought hard and bravely 
against this home-sickness. They had set 
their faces to the task, and they would not 
turn back now though the work was harder 
than they had expected. They did their best to 
comfort each other yet there were times when 
it seemed as if they could not stand the awful 
longing for home. Night after night they 
would stand and watch the little girl as she 
lay asleep, and then their hearts would grow 
stronger as they thought how their work was 
all for her. Little Nellie cried sometimes for 
the old people at home, but her grief was 
short-lived. There were so many new and 
pretty things to take up her mind. She be¬ 
came greatly attached to Aunt Jinny who 
followed her about and told her strange 
stories that pulled the blue ej’es open in won¬ 
der. 
There were very few visitors. Col. Fan* 
and his wife came over frequently, but the 
other neighbors made but one visit. John did 
his best to get acquainted with those who lived 
near him, but there was something, he could 
not understand what, that kept him from 
talking to them as he could talk to the neigh¬ 
bors at home. 
(To be Continued.) 
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