Jjinei JPietariwl 
ome 
lampmioii. 
By Augusta Larned. 
[Written specially for the Ladies’ Floral Cabinet.] 
CHAPTER I. 
“ I pray you tell me if this be the 
Lady of the house, for I never saw her.” 
—Shakspeare. 
“ 0, Steenie ! Steenie ! Whar’s dat brat ob de ole 
boy—dat lim’ ob Satan hisself ? Done gone playin’ 
truums agin, I’ll allow. Didn’t I ketch him firin’ ole ! 
Mass’r’s musket at de lame gander on’y las’ night ; and 
de piece jess kicked and keeled him ober in de dirt. 
0, Steenie ! Steenie ! if I lay a holt on ye I’ll break 
eb’ry bone in your brack skin ” j and the large, solid 
negress, with a face shining under her gay turban, a 
pair of comfortable, fat hands propped against her 
ample sides, and in a large print gown that rose in 
front and dipped majestically behind, again lifted up her 
voice out of the back kitchen window of the old Hall. 
“ I’m a coinin’, Gandy. What’s de use of makiu’ 
such a ’tarnal clatter, and raisin’ de neighbors? You 
might as well be a howlin’ cat-a-munk ”; and with 
that respectful announcement, a young Sambo, a 
shade lighter than his grandmother, whom he had de¬ 
nominated “ Gandy,” came lounging into the kitchen 
with an air of leisure, as if he had just as soon be all 
day about it as not. His tow trowsers were tattered, 
and hung down in a fringe around a pair of shapely, 
naked legs and feet. His grandmother, commonly 
called Aunty Nanna, at the Hall, rema'rked with a 
chuckle, that they were a good weariu’ color, “cos 
dey didn’t show dirt.” His monkey face, of a 
curiously creased and wrinkled childishness, was 
crowned by a mat of highly frizzled wool, that stood 
out from his bead with a breezy lightness, and was 
topped by a jaunty little glazed cap. He bad on a 
braided jacket that might have been worn by a smaller 
child, for though the boy was twelve years old be 
looked a year or two younger. He bad a wiry, me¬ 
chanical restlessness that made one suspect he was 
interiorly fitted with steel springs. 
“Whar’s dem peas I sot you pickin’ ?” demanded 
old Nanna, sternly. 
“ 0, conform’ dem peas!” returned the hoy, using a 
word he had picked up from the white farm laborer, 
Jake. “ It’s alius suthin nuver—pickin’ peas, or 
cleanin’ knives, or brackin’ Mass’r Edgar’s boots. I 
don’t have no time to find out I’m a free nigga, and 
b’long to myself.” 
“ You’ll fine some sore spots on dat dar uugenerated 
hide ob yours,” said the ireful old lady, reaching into 
the chimney corner where she kept her switches. She 
had taken the precaution to seize Steenie by what she 
called “ the scruff ob his neck.” 
“ 0, Gaudy ! Gandy! don’t whale me dis time. I’ll 
be good”—wriggling like an eel, and hopping up and 
down among the pots and pans of the hearth—“ I 
couldn’t pick dem peas, cos I had to go kotch Thun¬ 
derbolt for little Missy, and when I’d kotehed him, it 
took Jake and dat oder man both to hold him for 
little Missy to jump on his hack. And den wasn’t he 
mad! He went tearin’ ober de gate, back’ards and 
for’ards, and she sot like a. tree, and jess put de whip 
on good.” 
“ De ole Peter ! Dar is dat hair-burned chile,” 
cried Nanna, releasing Steenie and running to the 
kitchen door, as a dark-faced, spirited girl, sitting 
splendidly in the saddle, went flying down the avenue 
on a powerful young horse, with fire flashing from his 
wild eyes, and a torrent of foam pouring over the bit. 
Her hat had fallen off, leaving the long dark hair to 
float in the wind, and her form, though slender and 
graceful, with its tense muscular rigidity looked like a 
statue of embodied will. 
Thunderbolt had ceased to plunge, and was simply 
running now, having gained the highroad. Winnifred 
Braitlnvaite enjoyed the motion so intensely that she 
let Min go without curb or check. 
Just as the struggle began between horse and rider, 
a flaxen-haired young lady, in a white dress, ran out 
of the old brown house, upon the lawn in front, and 
stood crouching and cowering, and pale with fright to 
the very lips, as she watched the strong, dark, deter¬ 
mined girl shower down blows on the frantic colt. 
Though she uttered no sound, more than a half artic¬ 
ulate moan, it seemed as if she would have fallen to 
the ground if a young man had not advanced from the 
house and offered her his arm. They stood silent for 
a few minutes, watching the horse and rider with 
painful suspense. The young man was even paler 
than his companion. “What mad recklessness,” said 
he, in a low voice, almost under his breath. 
His companion looked up timidly, and shrank away 
from his support. “ Is there any danger now V’ she 
asked. 
“No,” he said, rather coldly, “ Miss Braithwaite 
has broken the brute at the risk of her neck.” 
Old Nanna, flourishing an iron spoon in her hand, 
and followed hv Steenie, had waddled out as fast as 
possible to see the end of the fray. “ Bress his heart 
and soul alive,” she muttered, half scornfully, to her¬ 
self, on overhearing the young man’s remark, “ lie’ll 
never resk nothun, notliun ’tall, poor little pigin, hut 
failin’ dead in lub wid little Miss, and much good 
’twill do him. 
“ She’s done gone an’ broke Thunderbolt,” cried 
Steenie, hopping about on one foot. “ He’s cornin’ 
hack joggin’ along quiet as an ole sheep.” 
“ ’Twould ha’ been wus for you, sail,” remarked 
Nanna, with grim emphasis, as they took their way 
hack to the kitchen, “if de little Miss had come to 
harm. For plottin’ and contrivin’ wid her, ole Mass’r 
would hole you ober de bottomless pit, to smoke like 
a side oh bacon, or he’ll drop you in whar de Bible 
says dars washin’ and wailin' and, gasliin’ oh teetli.” 
“I ain’t afearcd oh ole mass’r; I’se a free nigga, 
and hole to nobody hut little Missy. She’ll hah a 
heap oh money one oh dese times, den she’s promised 
to make me her totum, (dunno what dat means). 
I’se to have a tall, shiny hat, wid a cockade, and a 
pair ob white glubs, and to ride behind on a long¬ 
tailed pony, and to how so ’spectful and perlite, you 
wouldn’t know me. I’ll do such credit, Gandy, to 
your nussin’ and bringin’ up.” 
“ ’Specs de ole boy ’ll know ye, wliatsomdever you 
have on,” said Nanna, with a half chuckle, as she 
hared her large black arms, preparatory to kneading 
bread. “ He ain’t to no kind o’ loss ’bout, his chil’ern.” 
“ 0, I don't ’low I’m one o’ dem kind,” said Steenie, 
rolling up the whites of his eyes in holy horror, as he 
took a hoot on his hand, and began polishing away 
rather languidly. “ I’se never gwine to de had place, 
Gandy. I’se gwine to t’oder place, and I specs to do 
a powerful sight o’ crahhin’ on de river Jordan. I 
specs to get converted,” he went on in his most wheed¬ 
ling voice, “ and he first best at de shouts, if you’ll 
lemme take Uncle Teddy’s Bible, dat h’longed to 
graudaddy, out to de ham, whar I can spell ober de 
texes, as little Missy teached me.” 
“ Bress you, honey ! said the simple old creature, 
.beaming on him with a sudden revulsion of feeling, at 
this unexpected display of early piety, “ if you want 
to sarch in Uncle Teddy’s Bible, dar must he good 
spots in you whar de Lord can drop seed, if de heart 
is despately wicked; and you won’t bring down ok 
Gandy’s gray hair in sorrer to de grave. Dar’s ole 
Mass’r callin’ powerful strong,” she added, as she 
hastily freed her arms from flour. “ He’s pearter dis 
mornin’ dan usu’l. I’se cornin’ Mass’r,” she shouted 
through a hack passage, and the next moment had 
picked up a pan containing a scraggy joint of meat 
and a pair of scales, and waddled off to obey the 
summons. 
Judge Braithwaite occupied the hack chamber of 
the second story of this large and rambling place, 
called Haleourt Hall, for his sitting room and study. 
The old house had been built in Colonial times, and 
this room was wainscotted in stiff oak panels, with 
deep window-seats, and was partly filled with book¬ 
cases containing an extensive law library, the yellow 
calf bindings showing through the glass doors like 
row's of petrifactions. All else in the room evinced 
the extreme of shabbiness, not excepting the little, 
wizened, paralytic old man who sat propped up in a 
high-hacked chair. The carpet was worn in long 
threadbare stripes, and the chair coverings, once rich 
and handsome, were falling off in hits. The corners of 
the room were filled with rubbish piles, and the table 
was heaped with a litter of books and manuscripts, 
for the old man had an unconquerable aversion to 
having his room cleaned. 
He was crooked and singularly dried up, like an 
anatomical specimen, with a tuft of white hair on top 
of his yellow parchment-covered poll, and a gray un¬ 
shaven, foxy old face, with a pair of marvellously 
bright eyes, indicative of cupidity and cunning. His 
paralytic form was swathed in a ragged dressing gown, 
and he wore a colored silk handkerchief tied about his 
neck to conceal the frayed edges of his linen, not too 
immaculate in its freshness. 
This decayed old man, sitting in that shabby and 
still stately room, had been a distinguished jurist 
in his time, with a wide reputation for learning and 
acuteness. Though slowly dying at the root, Ms 
brain remained unnaturally active and vivid in all its 
operations, and with the aid of a secretary lie still 
spent many hours each day in compiling a learned 
treatise on the law. A sharp dry cough racked his 
frame, and he dosed himself with large quantities of 
patent medicines. His senses were preternaturally 
alive, and enabled Mm to still rule Ms household with 
a rod of iron, and make himself felt and feared all 
over the old Hall. ^ 
“ Well, Nanna, well, Nanna,” cackled the old man, 
in a high treble voice, as the negress made her appear¬ 
ance, “bring here the meat, and let me see if I can 
catch that rascal Burroughs at Ms old tricks. He's a 
clever cheat, hut he’ll have to get up early in the 
morning to outwit me,” and with Ms old shaking 
hand he adjusted the joint upon the hook, and peered 
anxiously at the ounce marks. 
“ Does seem to he a mon’sus sight oh hone to dat 
dar meal,” remarked Nanna, gravely, as she stood 
with her hands propped against her sides. “ ’Pears 
as if beef critters was made up different from what 
dey used to was.” 
“ For my part I don't care about meat,” responded 
the Judge in his thin, wiry voice. “ I’ve lived on veg¬ 
etables and oatmeal a good many years, and my mind 
is as clear as a hell. Bad in the legs, Nanna, and 
racked all to pieces with this cough ; hut my father 
had the long consumption for thirty years, and then 
died of something else. I have had it only ten, and I 
mean to live to he a hundred, Nanna, to disappoint 
the people who want to put the old man under ground.” 
He gave a deep, inward laugh, like the rattling of 
peas in a dry pod, that wrinkled his old face curiously, 
and made it look more foxy and cunning than ever. 
After a moment of reflection, he suddenly asked, “ Is 
Mr. Edgar down stairs ?” 
• “ Yes, Mass’r, I specs he’s in de lib’ry. Shall I 
call him ?” 
“No, no. I was only thinking what an unnatural, 
I may say depraved appetite that young man has. 
Well people have no need of animal food. It is only 
a prejudice, and like putting fresh fuel on a fire al¬ 
ready overheated. I give Edgar Ms hoard and the 
use of the library for Ms services, and he is dear at 
that,” 
“ Dey do say,” answered Nanna, soothingly, “ its 
hungry work to keep de nose poke into books all day 
