University of Virginia Library

5. CHAPTER V.

As soon as Butler landed from the skiff, he threw his cloak into
the hands of the sergeant; then, with a disturbed haste, sprang
upon his horse, and, commanding Robinson to follow, galloped
along the road down the river as fast as the nature of the ground
and the obscurity of the hour would allow. A brief space brought
them to the spot where the road crossed the stream, immediately in
the vicinity of the widow Dimock's little inn, which might here be
discerned ensconced beneath the cover of the opposite hill. The
low-browed wooden building, quietly stationed some thirty paces off
the road, was so adumbrated in the shelter of a huge willow, that
the journeyer, at such an hour as this, might perchance pass the
spot unconsciously by, were it not for an insulated and somewhat
haggard sign-post that, like a hospitable seeker of strangers, stood
hard by the road side, and there displayed a shattered emblem in
the guise of a large blue ball, a little decayed by wind and weather,
which said Blue Ball, without superscription or device, was universally
interpreted to mean “entertainment for man and horse, by the
widow Dimock.” The moonlight fell with a broad lustre upon the
sign post and its pendent globe; and our travellers, besides, could
descry, through the drapery of the willow, a window, of some rear
building of the inn, richly illuminated by what, from the redness of
the light, might be conjectured to be a bundle of blazing faggots.

As the horses had, immediately upon entering the ford, compelled
their masters to a halt, whilst they thrust their noses into the water
and drank with the greediness of a long and neglected thirst, it was
with no equivocal self-gratulation that Robinson directed his eye to
the presignifications of good cheer which were now before him.

Butler had spoken “never a word,” and the sergeant's habits of
subordination, as well as an honest sympathy in what he guessed
to be the griefs of his superior officer, had constrained him to a
respectful silence. The sergeant, however, was full of thoughts
which, more than once during the gallop from the Fawn's Tower,
he was on the point of uttering by way of consolation to Butler, and
which nothing prevented but that real delicacy of mind that lies at
the bottom of a kind nature, and inhabits the shaggy breast of the
rustic, at least full as often as it lodges in the heart of the trim
worldling. The present halt seemed, in Horse Shoe's reckoning,
not only to furnish a pretext to speak, but, in some degree, to render
it a duty; and, in truth, an additional very stimulating subject
presented itself to our good squire, in his instantaneous conviction
that the glare from the tavern window had its origin in some active
operation which, at this late hour, might be going on at the kitchen
chimney; to understand the full pungency of which consideration,
it is necessary to inform my reader, that Robinson had, for some
time past, been yielding himself to certain doubts, whether his
friend and himself might not arrive at the inn at too late an hour
to hope for much despatch in the preparation for supper. In this
state of feeling, partly bent to cheer the spirits of Butler, and partly
to express his satisfaction at the prospect of his own comfort, he
broke forth in the following terms—

“God bless all widows that set themselves down by the roadside,
is my worst wish! and, in particular, I pray for good luck to the
widow Dimock, for an orderly sort of body, which I have no doubt
she is; and keeps good hours—to judge by the shine of the kitchen
fire which is blazing yonder in the rear—and which, to tell truth,
major, I began to be afeard would be as dead, by this time o' night,
as the day the hearth-stone was first laid. She desarves to be
spoken of as a praiseworthy woman. And, moreover, I should say
she has popped her house down in a most legible situation, touching
our day's march, by which I mean it isn't one step too near a reasonable
bed hour. I count it lucky, major, on your account; and
although it isn't for me to give advice in woman affairs—for I know
the creatures do try the grit and edge of a man amazingly sometimes—yet,
if I mought say what was running in my head fit for a
gentleman and an officer like you to do in such a tribulation, it

would be this: drop thinking and chawing over your troubles, and
take them with a light heart, as things that's not to be mended by
a solemncolly long-facedness. A good victual's meal and a fair
night's rest would make another man of you. That's my observation;
and I remember once to hear you say the same yourself, upon
occasion of your losing the baggage wagons last fall on the Beaufort
convoy. You ha'n't forgot it, major?”

“Thank you, thank you, sergeant. Your counsel is kindly offered
and wisely said, and I will follow it. But it is a little hard, fellow
soldier,” added Butler, with something like an approach to jocularity,
“it's a little hard to have one's misfortunes cast in his teeth
by a comrade.”

“I thought it would make you laugh, major!” replied Robinson,
with a good-natured solicitude, “for it wan't in the possibilities of a
mortal earthly man to save the baggage; and, I remember, you
laughed then, as well as the rest of us, when them pestifarious,
filching sheep stealers made off with our dinners: nobody ever
blamed you for it.”

“Ah, Galbraith, you are a good friend, and you shall say what
you please to me,” said Butler, with a returning cheerfulness;
“sorrow is a dull companion to him who feeds it, and an impertinent
one to everybody beside. So, ride forward, and we will endeavor
to console ourselves with the good cheer of the widow. And,
hark, Galbraith, this Mistress Dimock is an especial friend of mine:
pray you, let her see, by your considerateness towards her, that you
are aware of that—for my sake, good Horse Shoe.”

The two soldiers soon reached the inn, and, having dismounted,
Butler aroused the attention of the inmates by a few strokes upon
the door with his riding rod.

The reply to this summons was a shrill invitation, in a feminine
voice, to “walk in;” and no sooner had Butler thrown open
the door and advanced a few paces into the passage, than the
head of an elderly female was seen thrust through the partially
expanded doorway of the adjoining room. Another instant, and
the dusky figure of Mistress Dimock herself was visible to our
travellers.

“What would you be pleased to have, sir?” inquired the dame,
with evident distrust at this untimely approach of strangers.

“Accommodation for the night, and whatever you have good to
offer a friend, Mistress Dimock.”

“Who are you that ride so late?” again interrogated the hostess;
“I am cowardly, sir, and cautious, and have reason to be careful who
comes into my house; a poor unprotected woman, good man.”

“A light, mother,” said Butler, “and you shall know us better.
We are travellers and want food and rest, and would have both with
as little trouble to you as possible; a light will show you an old
friend.”

“Wait a moment,” returned the dame; and then added, as she
observed Butler walk into a room on the left, “Take care, sir, it is
risking a fall to grope in the dark in a strange house.”

“The house is not so strange to me as you suppose. Unless you
have moved your furniture I can find the green settee beyond the
cupboard,” said Butler, familiarly striding across the room, and
throwing himself into the old commodity he had named.

The landlady, without heeding this evidence of the conversancy
of her visitor with the localities of the little parlor, had hastily
retreated, and, in a moment afterwards, returned with a light, which,
as she held it above her head, while she peered through a pair of
spectacles, threw its full effulgence upon the face of her
guest.

“Dear me, good lack!” she exclaimed, after a moment's gazing;
“Arthur Butler, o' my conscience! And is it you, Mr. Butler?”
Then, putting the candle upon the table, she seized both of his hands
and gave them a long and hearty shake. “That Nancy Dimock
shouldn't know your voice, of all others! Where have you been,
and where are you going? Mercy on me! what makes you so late?
And why didn't you let me know you were coming? I could have
made you so much more comfortable. You are chilled with the
night air; and hungry, no doubt. And you look pale, poor fellow!
You surely couldn't have been at the Dove Cote?” which last interrogatory
was expressed with a look of earnest and anxious inquiry.

“No, not there,” replied Butler, almost in a whisper; “alas, my
kind dame, not there,” he added, with a melancholy smile, as he
held the hand of the hostess and shook his head; “my fortune has
in no jot improved since I left you almost a year ago. I broke from
you hastily then to resume my share in the war, and I have had

nothing but hard blows ever since. The tide, Mistress Dimock, sets
sadly against us.”

“Never let your heart fail you,” exclaimed the landlady; “it
isn't in the nature of things for the luck to be for ever on the shady
side. Besides, take the good and bad together, you have not been
so hardly dealt by, Captain Butler.”

“Major Butler, madam, of the second Carolina continental reg'lar
infantry,” interrupted Robinson, who had stood by all this time
unnoticed, “Major Butler; the captain has been promoted, by
occasion of the wiping out of a few friends from the upper side of
the adjutant's roll, in the scrimmage of Fort Moultrie. He is what
we call, in common parley, brevetted.”

This annunciation was made by the sergeant with due solemnity,
accompanied by an attempt at a bow, which was abundantly stiff
and ungraceful.

“My friend Sergeant Robinson,” said Butler; “I commend him,
Mistress Dimock, to your especial favor, both for a trusty comrade,
and a most satisfactory and sufficient trencher man.”

“You are welcome and free to the best that's in the house,
sergeant,” said the landlady, courtesying; “and I wish, for your
sake, it was as good as your appetite, which ought to be of the best.
Mr. Arthur Butler's word is all in all under this roof; and, whether
he be captain or major, I promise you, makes no difference with me.
Bless me! when I first saw you, major, you was only an ensign;
then, whisk and away! and back you come a pretty lieutenant,
about my house: and then a captain, forsooth! and now, on the
track of that, a major. It is up-up-up-the ladder, till you will come,
one of these days, to be a general; and too proud, I misdoubt, to look
at such a little old woman as me! hegh, hegh, hegh! a pinch of
snuff, Mr. Arthur.” And here the good dame prolonged her
phthisicky laugh for some moments, as she presented a box of Scotch
snuff to her guest. “But I'll engage promotion never yet made
the appetite of a travelling man smaller than before; so, gentlemen,
you will excuse me while I look after your supper.”

“The sooner the better, ma'am,” said Robinson; “your night air
is a sort of a whetstone to the stomach: but first, ma'am, I would
be obligated to you, if you would let me see the ostler.”

“Hut, tut! and have I been drivelling here all this time,”

exclaimed the dame, “without once spending a thought upon your
cattle! Tony, Tony, To-ny, I say,” almost shrieked the hostess, as
she retreated along the passage towards the region of the kitchen,
and then back again to the front door. “Are you asleep? Look
to the gentlemen's horses; lead them to the stable, and don't spare
to rub them down; and give them as much as they can eat.
Where are you, old man?”

“What's the use of all this fuss, Missus Dimck? Arn't I here on
the spot, with the cretur's in my hand?” grumbled out an old, stunted
negro, who answered to the appellation of ostler: “Arn't I getting
the baggage off, as fast as I can onbuckle the straps?—I don't want
nobody to tell me when I ought to step out. If a hos could talk,
he ain't got nothing new to say to me. Get out, you varmints,” he
shouted, with a sudden vivacity of utterance, at three or four dogs
that were barking around him: “Consarn you! What you making
such a conbobberation about? You all throat when you see gentmen
coming to the house; better wait tell you see a thief; bound,
you silent enough then, with your tail twixt your legs! Blossom,
ya sacy slut, keep quiet, I tell you!”

In the course of this din and objurgation, the old negro succeeded
in disburdening the horses of their furniture, and was about to lead
them to the stable, when Robinson came to give him some directions.

“Mind what you are after with them there cattle. Give them
not a mouthful for a good hour, and plenty of fodder about their
feet; I'll look at them myself before you shut up. Throw a handful
of salt into the trough, Tony, and above all things, don't let me catch
you splashing water over their backs; none of that; do you
hear?”

“Haw, haw, haw!” chuckled Tony; “think I don't know how to
take care of a hos, mass! Been too use to creturs, ever sense so
high. Bless the gentman! one of the best things on arth, when
you're feared your hos is too much blowed, is to put a sprinkling of
salt in a bucket o'water, and just stir a leetle Indian meal in with it;
it sort of freshes the cretur up like, and is onaccountable good in
hot weather, when you ain't got no time to feed. But cold water
across the lines! oh, oh, I too cute in hos larning for that! Look
at the top of my head—gray as a fox!”

“Skip then, or I'll open upon you like a pack of hounds,” said

Robinson, as he turned on his heel to re-enter the house, “I'll
look in after supper.”

“Never mind me,” replied Tony, as he led the horses off, “I have
tended Captain Butler's hos afore this, and he wan't never onsatisfied
with me.”

These cares being disposed of, Horse Shoe returned to the parlor.
The tidy display of some plain furniture, and the scrupulous
attention to cleanliness in every part of the room, afforded an intelligent
commentary upon the exact, orderly and decent character of
the Widow Dimock. The dame herself was a pattern of useful thrift.
Her short figure, as she now bustled to and fro, through the apartment,
was arrayed in that respectable, motherly costume which
befitted her years; and which was proper to the period of my story,
when the luxury of dress was more expensive than at present, and
when a correspondent degree of care was used to preserve it in repair.
Evidences of this laudable economy were seen in the neatness with
which a ruffle was darned, or a weak point fortified by a nicely
adjusted patch, presenting, in some respect, a token both of the
commendable pride of the wearer, and of the straitness of the
national means, since the prevalence of war for five years had not
only reduced the wealth of individuals and rendered frugality indispensable,
but had, also, literally deprived the country of its necessary
supply of commodities; thus putting the opulent and the needy,
to a certain extent, upon the same footing. On the present occasion,
our good landlady was arrayed in a gown of sober-colored chintz, gathered
into plaits in the skirt, whilst the body fitted closely over a pair
of long-waisted stays, having tight sleeves that reached to the elbow.
The stature of the dame was increased a full inch by a pair of high-heeled,
parti-colored shoes, remarkable for their sharp toes; and a
frilled muslin cap, with lappets that reached under the chin, towered
sufficiently high to contribute, also, something considerable to the
elevation of the tripping little figure of its wearer.

In such guise did Mistress Dimock appear, as she busied herself in
preparing needful refreshment for the travellers; and for some time
the house exhibited all that stir which belongs to this important care
when despatched in a retired country inn.

By degrees, the table began to show the bounfies of the kitchen.
A savory dish of fried bacon, the fumes of which had been, for a

quarter of an hour, gently stimulating the appetite of the guests,
now made its appearance, in company with a pair of broiled pullets;
and these were followed by a detachment of brown-crested hoecakes—the
peculiar favorite of the province; an abundance of rich
milk, eggs, butter, and other rural knicknackeries, such as no hungry
man ever surveys with indifference. These were successively deposited
upon a homespun table cloth, whose whiteness rivalled the new
snow, with an accuracy of adjustment that, by its delay, produced
the most visible effects upon the sergeant, who, during the spreading
of the board, sat silently by, watching, with an eager and gloating
earnestness, the slow process, ever and anon uttering a short hem,
and turning about restlessly on his chair.

I may pause here, after the fashion of our worthy friend Horse
Shoe, to make an observation. There is nothing that works so
kindly upon the imagination of a traveller, if he be in any doubt as
to his appetite, as the display of such a table. My particularity of
detail, on the present occasion, will, therefore, be excused by my
reader, when I inform him that Butler had arrived at the inn in that
depressed tone of spirits which seemed to defy refreshment; and
that, notwithstanding this impediment, he played no insignificant
part afterwards at supper; a circumstance mainly attributable to that
gentle but irresistible solicitation, which the actual sight and fragrance
of the board addressed to his dormant physical susceptibility.
I might, indeed, have pretermitted the supper altogether, were there
not a philosophical truth at the bottom of the matter, worthy of the
notice of the speculative and curious reader; namely, that where a
man's heart is a little teased with love, and his temper fretted by
crossings, and his body jolted by travel; especially, when he has
been wandering through the night air, with owls hooting in his ears;
and a thin drapery of melancholy has been flung, like cobwebs, across
his spirits, then it is my doctrine, that a clean table, a good-humored
landlady and an odorous steaming-up of good things, in a snug,
cheerful little parlor, are certain to beget in him a complete change
of mood, and to give him, instead, a happy train of thoughts and a
hearty relish for his food. Such was precisely Butler's condition.

He and the sergeant now sat down at the table, and each drew
the attention of the other by the unexpected vigor of their assaults
upon the dainties before them; Robinson surprised to find the major

so suddenly revived, and Butler no less unprepared to see a man,
who had achieved such wonders at dinner, now successively demolish
what might be deemed a stout allowance for a well fed lion.

“It almost seems to go against the credit of my house,” said the
hostess, “to set gentlefolks down at my table without a cup of tea;
but so it is; we must get used to be stripped of all the old-fashioned
comforts. It is almost treason for an honest woman to have such an
article in her house now, even if it could be fairly come by. Still,
I'll engage I am tory enough yet to like the smell of hyson. They
have no mercy upon us old women, major; they should have a care,
or they will drive us into the arms of the enemy.”

“Faith then, ma'am,” interrupted Horse Shoe bluntly, as he threw
his eye over his shoulder at the landlady, who had broken into a
laugh at her own sally of humor, “it would be no wonder if you
were soon driven back again.”

“Shame on you, Mr. Sergeant Robinson,” retorted the dame,
laughing again, “I didn't expect to hear such a speech from you;
that's a very sorry compliment to a poor country woman. If the
men on our side think so little of us as you do, it would be no
wonder if we all desert to King George: but Major Arthur Butler, I
am sure, will tell you that we old bodies can sometimes make ourselves
very useful—gainsay it who will.”

“You seem to be rather hard, Galbraith,” said Butler, “on my
good friend Mistress Dimock. I am sure, madam, the sergeant has
only been unlucky in making himself understood; for I know him
to be a man of gallantry to your sex, and to cherish an especial liking
for the female friends of our cause, amongst whom, Mistress Dimock,
I can certify he is prepared to set a high value upon yourself. The
sergeant was only endeavoring to provoke your good humor. Try
this honey, Galbraith; Mistress Dimock is famous for her beehives;
and perhaps it will give a sweeter edge to your tongue.”

“I spoke, major,” replied Robinson, awkwardly endeavoring to
extricate himself under this joint rebuke, and, at the same time,
plunging a spoon into the dish to which Butler had invited his
notice, “consarning the difficulty of having ladies—whether old or
young makes no difference, it wan't respecting the age of Mistress
Dimock, nor her beauty, by no means, that I said what I did say;
but it was consarning of the difficulty of having the women with

them in their marches and their counter-marches. What could such
tender creatures have done at such a place as the sieging of Charlestown?
Certain, this is most elegant honey!” he added, by way of
parenthesis, as he devoured a large slice of bread, well covered with
a fragment of honeycomb, as if anxious to gain time to collect his
ideas; for, with all Horse Shoe's bluntness, he was essentially a diffident
man. “It is my opinion, ma'am, the best thing the women
can do, in these here wars, is to knit; and leave the fighting of it
out, to us who hav'n't faces to be spoiled by bad weather and tough
times.”

“I don't want to have art nor part in these quarrels,” replied the
widow. “The saints above are witnesses, I think it unnatural enough
to see a peaceable country, and a quiet honest people, vexed and
harried, and run down with all this trooping of horses, and parading
of armies, and clattering of drums, amongst the hills that never
heard any thing worse than the lowing of a heifer before. But still,
I wish well to liberty; and if it must be fought for, why, I am even
content to take my share of the suffering, in my own lonesome way;
and they that bear the heat of the day, and their friends, shall
always be served in my house with the best that's in it, and at the
most reasonable rates. Even if they come without money, I am not
the woman to turn them off with an empty stomach; I mean them
of the right side.”

“Well, that's as sensible a speech, Mistress Dimock,” said Horse
Shoe, quickly seizing the occasion to make amends to the landlady
for his former bluntness, “and as much to the purpose, and spoken
with as much wisdom and circumscription, as mought come out of
the mouth of e'er a lady in the land—high born or low born—I don't
care where the other comes from. And it does a man's heart good
to hear the womankind holding out such presentments. It's encouraging
on the face of it.”

During this conversation the supper was finished, and Mrs. Dimock
had now seated herself, with her elbows upon the table, so
placed as to allow her to prop her chin upon her hands, in which
position she fell into an earnest but quiet, under-toned confabulation
with Butler, who partook of it with the more interest, as it related to
the concerns of the family at the Dove Cote.

“Mr. Lindsay, poor man,” said the dame, in the course of this

conference, “is wofully beset. It almost looks as if he was haunted
by an evil spirit, sure enough, which folks used to say of him after
his wife's death—and which, to tell you the truth, our young lady
Mildred has sometimes more than half hinted to me; he is so run
at, and perplexed, and misguided by strangers that can have no
good intention in coming to see him. There is Mr. Tyrrel, over at
the Dove Cote at this very time, on his third visit, major, in less
now than two months past; yes, let me see, he brought the news
here of the recapitulation—I think you military call it—though,
heaven knows, I have but a poor head for these bloodthirsty words
—I mean the taking of Charleston; three times has he been here,
counting from that day. Where he comes from, and who are his
kith and kin, I am sure I don't know.”

“Tyrrel, ha! yes, I have heard of him to-night, for the first
time,” said Butler.

“He must be a rich man,” continued the hostess, “for he travels
with two white servants, and always pays his way in gold. One of
his men is now in the house; and, between you and me, major, this
man is a very inquisitive sort of person, and would hardly be taken
for a serving man; and he is a cautious fellow too, although there
is a good deal of swagger and bullying about him, which might
deceive one at first sight.”

“Here, in the house to-night?” inquired Butler.

“Speak low, major, the man is now walking the porch before our
windows.”

“What does Mildred say of this Tyrrel?” asked Butler.

“Has she been here lately?”

“The good lady never stirs from home whilst Tyrrel is at the
Dove Cote; for fear, I believe, that he will follow her, for they do
whisper about in the neighborhood—though I don't say it to alarm
you, Mr. Arthur, that this man is of the high quality, a nobleman,
some say, and that he has come here a-courting. Only think of the
assurance of the man! But if he was a prince, and every hair of
his head strung with diamonds, and Miss Mildred was as free as the
day you first saw her, I can say with safety he would find but cold
comfort in that game; for she despises him, major, both for himself
and for his tory principles. She does hate him with a good will.
No, no, her heart and soul are both where they ought to be, for all

her father, poor man, and this rich gentleman! Oh, it is a cruel
thing that you and our pretty lady cannot live quietly together; but
Mr. Lindsay is past talking to about it. I declare I think his mind
is touched: I positively believe it would kill him if he know all that
has passed in this house; but he is, in the main, a good man, and a
kind father, and is very much to be pitied. I see you are sad and
sorrowful, Mr. Arthur: I didn't mean to distress you with my prating.
You tell me, you think you may travel as far as Georgie.”

“Even so far, good dame, if some accident should not shorten my
career. These are doubtful times, and my path is as uncertain as
the chances of war. It may be long before I return.

“I grieve night and day, and my heart bleeds for Miss Mildred,
for she is so good, so constant, so brave, too, for a woman,” said the
widow with unaffected emotion. “Well-a-day! what woes these
wars have brought upon us! You told her your plans, Mr. Arthur?”

“Our interview was short and painful,” replied Butler. “I
scarcely know what I said to her. But, one thing I entreat of you:
my letters will be directed to your charge; you will contrive to have
them promptly and secretly delivered: oblige me still in that, good
mother. Henry will often visit you.”

“And a brave and considerate young man he is, major; I'll be
surety for his making of an honorable and a real gentleman. Do
you join the army in Carolina?”

“Perhaps not. My route lies into the mountains, our troops
struggle for a footing in the low country.”

“If I may make bold, Major Butler, to drop a word of advice into
your ear, which, seeing that I'm an older man than you,” interrupted
the sergeant, in an admonitory whisper, “I think I have got
good right to do, why I would just say that there may be no great
disconvenience in talking before friends; but sometimes silence brings
more profit than words. So, I vote that we leave off telling the
course of our march till such time as it is done, and all is safe.
There will be briers enough in our way, without taking the trouble
to sow them by the roadside. The man that stands a little aside
from that window, out on the porch, throws his shadow across the
sill oftener than is honest, according to my reckoning. You said,
ma'am,” continued Horse Shoe, addressing the widow, “that the
fellow in the porch you is Mr. Tyrrel's man.”

“He walks later than usual to-night,” replied Mrs. Dimock, “for
though he can't be called a man of regular hours, yet, unless he can
find an idler to keep him company, he is accustomed to be in his
bed before this.”

“He is after no good, depend upon that,” said Horse Shoe. “I
have twice seen the light upon his face behind the shutter: so,
true man or spy, it's my admonishment not to speak above the
purring of a cat.”

“You are right, Galbraith,” said Butler. “We have many
reasons to distrust him; and it is at least safest to keep our affairs
private.”

“If I thought he was prying,” continued Galbraith, “which I do
measurably insinuate and believe, I would take the freedom to give
him the benefit of a drilling on good manners. Ha, major! as I
have a hand, he is reconnoitring us now at this identical time!
Didn't you see him pass up and down before the door, and look in
as greedily as if our faces were picture-books for him to read? I
will have a word with him, and, wise or simple, I will get his
calibre before I am done with him. Never let on, major; stay
where you are. I promised to look after our horses.”

The hostess and her guest now continued their communion; in
which we leave them, whilst we follow Horse Shoe towards the
stable.