University of Virginia Library

3. CHAPTER III.
SUMMER MORNINGS.

In the country every thing wears a Sunday look.
The skies have a deeper blue than common, the
clouds rest upon them like paintings. The soft flutter
of the groves hushes one into silence. The chirp
of the grasshopper, as he leaps in his short semi-circles
along your path, has the feebleness of a whisper;
and the great vagabond butterfly, that gads
amongst the thistles, moves noiseless as a straggling
leaf borne upon a zephyr. Then, there is a lowing
of cows upon a distant meadow, and a scream of
jay-birds, heard at intervals; the sullen hammer of
a lonely woodpecker resounds from some withered
trunk; and, high above, a soaring troop of crows,
hoarse with bawling, send forth a far-off note.
Sometimes a huge and miry mother of the sty, with
her litter of querulous pigs, steps leisurely across the
foreground; and a choir of locusts in the neighbouring
woods spin out a long stave of music, like the
pupils of a singing-school practising the elements of
psalmody. Still, this varied concert falls faintly
upon the ear, and only seems to measure silence.

Our morning pursuits at Swallow Barn partake
somewhat of the quiet character of the scenery.
Frank Meriwether is an early riser at this season,

and generally breakfasts before the rest of the family.
This gives him time to make a circuit on horseback,
to inspect the progress of his farm concerns. He returns
before the heat of the day, and, about noon,
may be found stretched upon a broad settee in the
hall, with a pile of books on the floor beneath him,
and a dozen newspapers thrown around in great confusion:
not unfrequently, too, he is overtaken with
a deep sleep, with a volume straddling his nose; and
he will continue in this position, gradually snoring
from a lower to a higher key, until he awakens himself
by a sudden and alarming burst that resembles
the bark of a mastiff. He says the old clock puts
him asleep, and, in truth, it has a very narcotic vibration;
but Frank is manifestly growing corpulent.
And, what is a little amusing, he protests in the face
of the whole family that he does not snore.

The girls get at the piano immediately after breakfast;
and Ned and myself usually commence the
morning with a stroll. If there happen to be visiters
at Swallow Barn, this after-breakfast hour is
famous for debates. We then all assemble in the
porch, and fall into grave discussions upon agriculture,
hunting or horsemanship, in neither of which do
I profess any great proficiency, though I take care
not to let that appear. Some of the party amuse
themselves with throwing pebbles picked from the
gravel walk, or draw figures upon the earth with a
rod, as if to assist their cogitations; and when our
topics grow scarce, we saunter towards the bridge,
and string ourselves out upon the rail, to watch
the bubbles that float down the stream; and are

sometimes a good deal perplexed to know what we
shall do until dinner time.

There is a numerous herd of little negroes about
the estate; and these sometimes afford us a new diversion.
A few mornings since, we encountered a
horde of them, who were darting about the bushes
like untamed monkeys. They are afraid of me, because
I am a stranger, and take to their heels as
soon as they see me. If I ever chance to get near
enough to speak to one of them, he stares at me
with a suspicious gaze; and, after a moment, makes
off at full speed, very much frightened, towards the
cabins at some distance from the house. I believe
they think I am a Georgia man, which they all
consider a kind of hobgoblin. They are almost all
clad in a long coarse shirt that reaches below the
knee, without any other garment: but one of the
group, that we met on the morning I speak of, was
oddly decked out in a pair of ragged trowsers, conspicuous
for their ample dimensions in the seat.
These had evidently belonged to some grown-up
person, but were cut short in the legs to make them
fit the wearer. A piece of twine across the shoulder
of this grotesque imp, served for suspenders, and kept
his habiliments from falling about his feet. Ned
ordered this crew to prepare for a foot-race, and proposed
a reward of a piece of money to the winner.
They were to run from a given point, about a hundred
paces distant, to the margin of the brook. Our
whole suite of dogs were in attendance, and seemed
to understand our pastime. At the word, away
went the bevy, accompanied by every dog of the

pack, the negroes shouting and the dogs yelling
in unison. The shirts ran with prodigious vehemence,
their speed exposing their bare, black and
meager shanks, to the scandal of all beholders; and
the strange baboon in trowsers struggled close in
their rear, with ludicrous earnestness, holding up his
redundant and troublesome apparel with his hand.
In a moment they reached the brook with unchecked
speed; and, as the banks were muddy, and the dogs
had become tangled with the racers in their path,
the entire herd were precipitated, one over the other,
into the water. This only increased their merriment,
and they continued the contest in this new
element, by floundering, kicking and splashing about,
like a brood of ducks in their first descent upon a
pool. These young negroes have wonderfully flat
noses, and the most oddly disproportioned mouths,
which were now opened to their full dimensions, so
as to display their white teeth in striking contrast
with their complexions. They are a strange pack
of antic and careless animals, and furnish the liveliest
picture that is to be found in nature, of that race
of swart fairies which, in the old time, were supposed
to play their pranks in the forest at moonlight. Ned
stood by, enjoying this scene like an amateur; encouraging
the negroes in their gambols, and hallooing
to the dogs, that by a kindred instinct entered
tumultuously into the sport, and kept up the confusion.
It was difficult to decide the contest in favour
of any of the actors. So the money was thrown
into the air, and as it fell to the ground, there was
another rush, in which the hero of the trowsers succeeded
in getting the small coin from the ground in
his teeth, but to the great prejudice of his finery.

Rip asserts a special pre-eminence over these
young serfs, and has drilled them into a kind of local
militia. He sometimes has them all marshalled in
the yard, and entertains us with a review. They
have an old watering-pot for a drum, and a dingy
pockethandkerchief for a standard, under which they
are arrayed in military order. As they have no hats
amongst them, Rip makes each stick a cock's feather
in his wool; and in this guise they parade over the
grounds with a riotous clamour, in which Rip's shrill
voice, and the clink of the old watering-pot, may be
heard at a great distance.

Besides these occupations, Hazard and myself frequently
ride out during the morning; and we are
apt to let our horses take their own way. This brings
us into all the by-places of the neighbourhood, and
makes me many acquaintances. Lucy and Victorine
often accompany us, and I have occasion to admire
their expert horsemanship. They have a brisk
little pony that is a wonderful favourite with them;
and, to hear them talk, you would suppose them
versed in all the affairs of the stable.

With such amusements, we contrive to pass our
mornings, not listlessly, but idly. This course of life
has a winning quality that already begins to exercise
its influence upon my habits. There is a fascination
in the quiet, irresponsible and reckless nature of these
country pursuits, that is apt to seize upon the imagination
of a man who has felt the perplexities of business.
Ever since I have been at Swallow Barn, I

have entertained a very philosophical longing for the
calm and dignified retirement of the woods. I begin
to grow moderate in my desires; that is, I only want
a thousand acres of good land, an old manor-house,
on a pleasant site, a hundred negroes, a large library,
a host of friends, and a reserve of a few thousands a
year in the stocks,—in case of bad crops,—and, finally,
a house full of pretty, intelligent and docile
children, with some few et ceteras not worth mentioning.

I doubt not, after this, I shall be considered a man
of few wants, and great resources, within myself.