ANDERSONVILLE VIOLETS. 
Copyrighted by the Rural New-Yorker. 
All rights reserved. ’ 
chapter xvi. ( Continued.) 
Their first entertain merit of visitors was not 
a complete success. They were both at work 
one day—Nellie in the house and John at the 
new barn, when a carriage rolled up to the 
gate. This vehicle was a trifle rusty and de¬ 
cayed but it bounded up and down on its old- 
fashioned springs as if determined to keep up 
its share of the family pride. The two worn 
old mules were driven by a negro, who opened 
the door with a tremendous flourish. A state¬ 
ly old lady stepped from the carriage and ad¬ 
vanced toward the house. She held an eye¬ 
glass haughtily to her eye, and glanced over 
the smooth lawn and the painted house with 
curious interest. 
Nellie saw the carriage stop and hasteued to 
receive her visitor. She hastily dried her 
hands and took off her apron. She sent little 
Nellie out to bring John in and then went for¬ 
ward just as the lady’s card was brought out 
by aunt Jinny. When John came in he found 
his wife sitting uneasily in her chair, with the 
old lady examining her critically. John did 
not add much dignity to the household. He 
wore his old working dress, and his clothes 
were covered in places with sawdust. The 
end of a carpenter’s rule peeped curiously out 
from his breast pocket. Little Nellie' had 
done her best to brush his coat, but her hand 
was small and she had not succeeded as well 
as one could wish. John knew that he had 
entertained visitors at home in a much worse 
suit of clothes. 
The old lady made a very short call. She 
was very polite, but the young people could 
easily see that she was horrified at their ap¬ 
pearance. She went away at last, much to 
Nellie’s relief. John rubbed his head ruefully 
as he saw the old carriage roll down the road. 
They had done their best, but they felt after 
all that they were only plain country people. 
This was the only call they received for a 
long time. People seemed to have decided to 
let them entirely alone. Col. Fair laughed 
when he heard of this adventure. 
“Don’t worry about that,” he said, “they’ll 
all come round in a year’s time—jest as soon 
as ye make a mark on your plantation. Then 
ye can pick and choose yer company. I don’t 
know but you’ll be somethin’ like me,” he add 
ed slowly, “I’ve ben here some years an’ I’ve 
picked up mighty few of ’em yet.” 
But John did not wish to live as Col. Fair 
was living. He wanted to be on good terms 
with all his neighbors. 
John’s farm operations opened most suc¬ 
cessfully . He bought a mowing machine at 
once and drove the shovel and wheelbarrow 
method of haymaking into a permanent re¬ 
tirement. He bought a small herd of cows, 
and a few sheep and hogs. He determined to 
plow up the old cotton fields and get them 
into pastures as quickly as possible. Sol was 
of great help in this work. He seemed to have 
a white man’s head with a negro’s strength 
and endurance. John was soon able to trust 
much of the rougher work to Sol’s judgment. 
John had something to sell from his place 
in a very short time. Nellie’s butter had 
been famous at home, and she determined to 
gain a like fame at Sharpsburg. John took a 
package of delicious golden rolls into the 
town to see what market could be secured. 
After much bargaining he sold his load to 
one of the Jews, who promised to take all that 
could be made. 
“I knows a good ting ven I sees dot—dot 
vas von of de segrets of my peesness,” the Jew 
said, rubbing his fat hands together, and nod 
ding his head at John. “Dere is too much of 
dis cotton-seed butter in dis gounclry. Dey 
feeds de cows on de cotton-seed, an’ dot chust 
won’t melt in your mout wid dot dellegate 
flavor dot is de life of good butter. De butter 
peesness in dis goundry vas chust like all 
oders. Dere is no system und no push in dese 
men. People say dot dey can’t find out how 
dese Jews vas suckseed chust like dey does. 
It is chust good peesness management—dots 
chust how it vas. Ve vorks und dey sleeps. 
Ve manages und dey lets tings go mitout any 
system.” 
At this moment, the Jew was called off by 
a customer. He went behind the counter to 
give a practical example of his “peesnees 
ability.’ A tall man had been listening to 
the conversation. 
“I reckon a heap of what he says is true” 
he said as John passed him. “Them Jews is 
jest suckin’ this county like an orange. They 
come down here an’ sell goods so cheap that 
they drive white people out of business. They 
can live on nothin’ I reckon. They don’t 
never pay no taxes scarsely. They keep all 
their money in cash and they ain’t gut no 
idee of building up the country at all. They 
hurt our niggers bad, I reckon. A Jew will 
put his arm around a nigger’s neck for the 
sake of sellin’ him a nickel’s worth of goods. 
They sell their goods and make money because 
they know how to manage.” 
By this time the Jew had finished his busi¬ 
ness. He came back, smiling at the bargain 
he had just made, aud the tall man moved 
away. The Jew seemed to have marked John 
out as a profitable man to cultivate. 
“You vas goin’ do de speakin?”—he asked 
as he moved his fat hand in the direction of 
the court house. 
John’s eye followed the gesture, and 
noticed a crowd of negroes and a few white 
men gathered about the court house. 
Dere is some speakin’over dere” announced 
the Jew noticing John’s questioning look. 
I vas a Demograt of course” he remarked 
complacently, seeming to imply that it would 
show very poor “peesness management” to be 
anything else. “1 vas a Demograt, but I likes 
to see fair play all de vile. I drades mit dose 
Republicans an’ always dreats dem chust de 
same. If you go to dot speakin,’ you vill 
find blenty of fair blay. Eferybody has a 
good chance to say chust what dey pleases. 
Now chust look here vonce.” A sudden idea 
seemed to seize him. He drew John to one cor¬ 
ner of the store, and after looking carefully 
about whispered: 
“You vas a Northern man, so I dells you 
somedink. I gives you von or dree boints. 
You chust hang right onto your broperty in 
dis coundry chust as close as you can. Don’t 
you get discouraged. De time is coming 
when all dese lazy people must all git avay. 
Dere is blendy of dese farmsdotis mortgaged, 
and de capital dot holds dem is.from de North.’ 
Northern men will never buy land unless dey 
means to improve it. Den de niggers begins 
to see dat dey must-vork for demselves.” 
The Jew would have said more, but at this 
moment a small wave of custom rolled into 
the store and floated the proprietor away. 
John walked out on the street, and stood for 
a moment watching the crowd by the court 
house. He had a strong desire to pass over 
and see for himself how the political meeting 
was being conducted. At home he would 
have cared nothing about it; but here he was 
beginning to be deeply interested. 
“Whose speakin’ over yunder?” he asked of 
his friend, the tall man, who stood leaning 
against the building. 
Tliere s a heap of ’em,” was the answer. 
‘Two Radicals an’ some good Democrats. 
They always give everybody a fair hack- 
jest go over an’ see if that ain’t so.” 
Thus urged, John walked across the street 
and into the court house. A large crowd had 
gathered to listen to the discussion. They 
were mostly white men who sat solemnly on 
the rough benches and listened with sober 
politeness. A few negroes sat on the back 
seats, and as many more peered in at the 
windows and doors. The speakers sat in a 
row behind the bar, while in front of them 
sat the presiding officer—a short gentleman 
with a red face and long, white beard. 
As John entered one of the speakers was 
just taking his seat. The audience applauded 
in what seemed to John a spiritless way. The 
men stamped their feet and gave a series of 
cat-calls and yells. John found a vacant 
place on one of the front benches. As he took 
his seat, a man rose from the line of speakers 
and came down to the rail. There was no 
effort at applause. The white people looked 
at the speaker with scowling faces, while the 
negroes bent forward to listen carefully. 
The speaker deposited a package of papers 
on a little desk and then put on a pair of 
spectacles and looked calmly over the audi¬ 
ence. His scrutiny ended, he removed the 
spectacles and placed them on the desk by the 
papers. He was a tall, deter mined-looking 
man. His mouth closed firmly and his eyes 
were covered with great shaggy, gray eye¬ 
brows. He did not show the slightest fear or 
hesitation. He announced himself as a Re¬ 
publican, and went on to state his reasons for 
being one. 
“I carried a gun all through the war,” he 
said, “an’ done my best for the South. I was an 
almighty big fool to fight the last two years, I 
reckon. We was whipped, an’ we knowed it. 
When the war was over, I made up my mind 
I’d wait an’ sorter see what was cornin’. We 
all know what we expected. What did Gener¬ 
al Grant say? He said, ‘Let every man have 
his boss an’ mule to go home an’ make him a 
crop.’ I reckon there ain’t nobody could have 
said more than that. I says, ‘that’s good 
enough fer me, I reckon.’ 
I tuck my mule an’ made me a crop in 
North Car’liny, an’ then I worked on yer to 
Mississippi. I married one of the loveliest of 
Mississippi’s daughters, an’ yer I’ve been ever 
sense. I says, we’re whipped—the other side’s 
on top, an’ they’re gonter have the call. It 
ain’t no use ter buck agin ’em, for we had ter 
give it up an’ take our lickin’! So I says, 
let’s all turn in agin an’ sorter straighten 
things out. General Grant, he spoke mighty 
fair, an’ I says, that’s good enough fer me, 1 
reckon. I come out an’ joined the Republi¬ 
can party. I’ve been thar ever sense, an’ I 
reckon I’ll stay thar fer good.” 
There was no sign of applause at this bold 
announcement. The white men sat in grim 
silence and the negroes nudged each other, 
though their faces never moved a muscle. 
One rough-looking man on the seat in front of 
John shook his head in a satisfied manner, and 
bent forward to listen more carefully as the 
speaker went on. 
“ There was a heap of men, as you all know, 
that said they never would surrender. They 
went off to Mexico, an’ Europe, an’ all these 
other places, an’ it wa’rn’t long before they had 
ter send home for help. What did General 
Grant do? He sent a ship all round, an’ pick¬ 
ed ’em up an’ brought ’em home. I reckon 
we’d a ben better off to-day if a heap of ’em 
had kep away. But come down in a little 
closter an’ see what the Republican party 
done. We give ye yer free schools, we built 
up yer buildin’s, an’ we give ye a start all 
along. That didn’t satisfy ye. What did ye’ 
do? You killed niggers an’ stuffed ballot 
boxes till ye guf things back where they 
started from. But it didn’t do ye nigh ser 
much good as ye thought it would. It was 
jest like a dog gittin’ a taste of a sheep. You 
stuffed folks in, an’ I’m dogged ef ye didn’t 
learn the trick of stuffin’ folks out agin. -It’s a 
mighty poor rule that won’t work two ways, 
I reckon.” 
Here the speaker produced his package of 
newspapers. He read a series of wordy 
articles in which the State administration 
was most violently attacked. “The most 
corrupt administration ever known,” “a des¬ 
potic ring power,?’ aud other violent epithets 
were used in. abundance. “That’s the way 
some of your Democratic friends talk,” said the 
speaker, as he laid down his spectacles. 
“Now I ain’t no nigger. I’m a white man, 
I be. I fit as hard as any of ye till I gut 
j licked an’ then I quit. I’ll be dogged if I 
don’t hate to see ye hangin’ ’way back yonder. 
Why don’t ye come out of yer shell an’ be 
somebody? You go up where the Republi¬ 
cans is an’ you’ll find that they’ve got all the 
big men an’ all the likely fellers in the coun¬ 
try. Why don’t ye jine hands with the best 
men up thar, and git some help in buildin’ 
up this country ?” 
“It needs help I reckon. You can buy 
land here fer a song. Bad’s I kin sing I cud 
git sum fer a solo. The same land up in the 
North would be worth ten times as much. 
There aint no folks cornin’ in yer, but there’s 
a heap of ’em goin’ out. All yer likely young 
men are startin’ out for Texas—ain’t that so? 
Whats the matter with this country ? You 
folks have give it such a name that people 
don’t dare to come here. That’s jest the size 
of it an’ you know it.” 
The rough-looking man in front of John 
brought his great foot down on the floor with 
a stamp of approval. There was no other 
applause. A little Jew encouraged by the 
stamp of the foot to make an effort to secure 
the Republican trade, started to clap his 
hands, but he seemed to realize the lone¬ 
someness of his position in time, for the 
hands never came together. The white men 
bent looks of the fiercest hate upon the 
speaker, while the negroes never moved. 
“Another point I’m goin’ to talk about is 
where the Republican party stands on protec¬ 
tion. I’m gonter make it so clear, that I 
reckon even a way down, back country far¬ 
mer can understand it. You put up a cotton 
factory in this town, an’ I’ll guarantee that 
your farmers will build up a home market for 
all the pertaters an’ fruit an such like they 
cud raise. \\ e want a cash business in this 
country, an’ there ain’t no way to git it until 
we git up a new market.” 
We cannot follow the speaker all through 
his talk. I have given enough of his exact 
words to illustrate his arguments and mode of 
expression. He spoke fearlessly and forcibly 
for al out an hour and then took his seat. 
There was not a murmur of applause. A look 
of relief seemed to come over the faces of the 
white men. They seemed glad that a disa¬ 
greeable duty had been performed. They 
had listened to these words to show that they 
were perfectly ready to allow “ fair play.” 
The next speaker was a tall, elegant gentle¬ 
man, who rose with much dignity from his 
seat, and came down to the rail. He was 
greeted with loud applause. The white men 
struck the floor with their feet, and yelled 
loudly as he bowed to them. He had the sym¬ 
pathy of his audience from the very first sen¬ 
tence. 
“I deny the right of this man who has just 
taken his seat, or, in fact, the right of any Re¬ 
publican, to speak words of advice to the 
white people of Mississippi. Don’t you remem¬ 
ber, gentlemen, how, but a few years ago 
these very men, with their army of ignorant 
plunderers, had the intelligent white men 
of this country down on their very backs with 
a death grip on their throats? Don’t you re¬ 
member, gentlemen, those dark days when 
we hung our heads in shame before our ladies 
for allowing this crime to remain unpunished? 
You cannot forget it. It is burned into the 
heai t of every Southern man. It is a dishon¬ 
or that galls our very souls with its remem¬ 
brance. Will you ever follow the advice of 
one who turned his back upon his bleeding 
country in her hour of need, who helped to 
fasten this chain upon us, and who now comes 
before you as an office-holder—a blood-sucker 
—pleading only for more of your life?” 
A mighty chorus of “ never ” demonstrated 
the feeling of the audience. The speaker 
might have spared himself all further talk. 
As it was he spoke on for an hour and a half, 
and to John’s mind, simply repeated his open¬ 
ing sentences over and over again. John was 
anxious to stay and hear what the Republican 
speaker would have to say in reply, but he 
knew that Nellie would be anxious if he 
waited, so after listening to an hour of this 
oration, he went away to try and digest a few 
of the theories that had been advanced so 
liberally. 
He collected his load as rapidly as possible, 
and at last rode out of town towards home. 
About a quarter of a mile out of the village 
he came upon a foot passenger whom he re¬ 
cognized as the rough-looking man who had 
occupied the seat in front of him at the 
courthouse. John stopped his horses and in¬ 
vited the pedestrian to ride with him. The 
man glanced curiously at John for a moment, 
and then, without a word, stepped into the 
wagon. 
“You’re a Northern man I reckon ” he said 
after a moments pause. 
“ I ’spose I be ” said John cautiously. 
“How’dye like that speakin’?” The man 
had a rough, hard voice, that was as unpol¬ 
ished as his face. 
“Wall, I s’pose I have heard better,” said 
John, who did not care to commit himself. 
“I reckon so. Speakin’ don’t do no good 
down here,I reckon. Folks sorter goes through 
all the motions so they can keep a good holt 
on the offices. Old Byrox talked pretty brash 
there to day, but it don’t do no good. We 
uster have speakin here that tore things all up, 
but it’s all one way now.” 
“How long have you been down here,” 
asked John. 
“I come down here right after the war. I 
went out on a cotton plantation, an’ made two 
or three crops an’ then I moved in here. We 
had big pick in’s then. I built a court house 
over in the next county. Charged ’em my 
own price for the work. They hed a lot o” 
niggers on the board of supervisors, and they 
done everything I said. Mighty lively times, 
them was, an’ money was plenty. But I’ll have 
to leave ye here. I left my horse here when [ 
come in.” 
John stopped the horse before a little white 
house, and his new friend jumped out. The 
two men shook hands and John started on to¬ 
ward home again. If the talk of the after¬ 
noon had gone to show him how far he was 
from the people, events had been transpiring 
at home that promised to bring him closer 
than ever to one of his neighbors. As he 
turned in at the gate he saw Jack Foster sit¬ 
ting on the piazza, holding little Nellie on his 
knee. 
This sight was enough to make John stop 
his horses in surprise. There could be no 
doubt about it. It was surely Jack Foster. As 
little Nellie saw her father she ran down to 
meet him, while Jack Foster turned to his for¬ 
mer prisoner with a curious expression ou his 
face. 
(To be Continued.) 
Andersonville Violets will be concluded in 
about four weeks. Several shorter stories will 
be published during the year, and the popular 
Youths Department will be revived. A new 
feature of this department will be a series of 
“Talksby Uncle Mark” dealing with current 
events and full of hints and suggestions for 
boys and girls. Older people, too, will 
doubtless find something worth reading in 
the “Talks.” The children are requested to 
renew their correspondence for the Youth's 
Department, so that the letters published may 
be as bright and lively as possible. Uncle 
Mark and, in fact, the Rural folks gener¬ 
ally are strongly in favor of interesting the 
boys and girls in the bright side of farm 
life. We shall be glad indeed if we can do 
our share towards making strong, earnest and 
thoughtful men and women for the next gen¬ 
eration of Americans. The boys and girls of 
to-day are the men and women of to-morrow. 
Bright, patient and cheerful teaching now 
will show fruit in the future. Hardly a week 
passes without an appeal from some father or 
mother for help in keeping the boys on the 
farm. This is one of the most difficult prob¬ 
lems of the age. 
