University of Virginia Library

---

11

LETTER II.

To Mr. Thompson:—Dear Sir—This is a world of
disappintment, shore enuff. All my plans is busted up,
and I don't know if any thing ever sot me back much
worse before. You know I had evry thing fixed for a
journey to the North this summer, with my famly.
Well, last nite, bein as we was gwine to start the next
mornin, we had a little sort of a sociable party at our
house, jest by way of makin one job of biddin good
by to the nabours. 'Mong the rest of 'em, old Mr.
Mountgomery come to see us and wish us good luck on
our journey.

Mary and all of 'em was in a monstrous flurryment,
and had little Harry all dressed out in his new clothes,
to let the nabours see how pretty he looked before
he went away. Old Mr. Mountgomery's monstrous
fond of children, and always makes a heap of little
Harry, cause he's so smart; and the old man tuck him
up on his knee and ax'd him whose sun he was, and
how old he was, and a heap of other things what the
little feller didn't know nothing about.

“Don't you think it'll improve his helth to take him
to the North?” ses Mary to him.

“O, yes!” ses he; “no doubt it'll be a great deal
of sarvice to the little feller; but he'll be a monstrous
site of trouble to you on the road, Mrs. Jones.”

“Yes!” ses Mary; “but Prissy's a very careful
nurse; and she's so devoted to him that she won't
hardly let me touch him.”

“O, yes!” ses the old man; “if you could jest take
Prissy 'long with you, then you'd do very well. But
there's it, you see—”

---

12

“What?” ses Mary; “you didn't think I was gwine
to the North without a servant, did you, Mr. Mountgomery?”

The old man laughed rite out. “Ha, ha, ha!” ses
he; “taint possible you is gwine to take Prissy with
you to New York, is it? Why, Majer,” ses he to me,
“haint you got no better sense than to think of takin
sich a valuable nigger as that with you, to have her fall
into the hands of them infernal abolitionists?”

“The mischief take the abolitionists,” ses I; “I
reckon they haint got nothing to do with none of my
niggers.”

The old man shuck the ashes out of his pipe, and
laughed like he would split his sides.

“Why, bless yer soul, Majer,” ses he, “you couldn't
keep her from 'em a day after you got to New York.
No, no!” ses he; “not sich a likely gall as that.
They'd have her out of yer hands quicker'n you could
say Jack Robinson.”

Prissy's eyes looked like sassers, and Mary, and
mother, and all of 'em stared like they didn't know
what to say.

“Why, Massa Gummery!” ses Prissy, “um wouldn't
trouble me if I was long-a' Massa Joe, would dey?”

“To be sure they would, nigger!” ses Mr. Mountgomery;
“they'd take you whether you was willin
or not, in spite of yer Massa Joe, or anybody else.”

“But,” ses Mary, “Prissy wouldn't leave us on no
account—she knows as well as anybody when she's well
treated; and I'm sure she couldn't be better taken care
of no whar in the world.”

“That don't make-no manner of difference,” ses the
old man. “They wouldn't ax her nothing about it.
The fust thing you'd know she'd be gone, and then you
mought as well look for a needle in a haystack, as to
try to find a nigger in New York.”

Then he took a paper out of his pocket and red whar

---

13

“Ki,” ses Prissy, lookin like she was half scared out
of her senses, “den I aint gwine to no New York, for
dem pison ole bobolitionists for cotch me.”

“But aint ther no law for nigger stealin, at the
north?” ses old Miss Stallins.

“Law!” ses Mr. Mountgomery, “bless you, no!
They've sold all ther niggers long ago, and got the
money for 'em—so the law don't care whose niggers
they steal.”

Mary sot and looked rite in the fire for 'bout a minit
without sayin a word. I jest saw how it was. It wan't
no use for me to think of her gwine with me, 'thout
Prissy to take care of the baby; and after what Mr.
Mountgomery had sed to her, I mought jest as well try
to git her to stick her hed in the fire as go to New
York. I never thought of them bominable abolitionists
before, and I never was so oudaciously put out with
'em. It was enough to make a man what wasn't
principled agin swearin, cus like a trooper. Just to
think—every thing reddy to start, and then to have
the whole bisness nocked rite in the head by them
devils.”

“Well,” ses Mary, “thar's a eend to my jurney to
the north. I couldn't think of gwine a step without
Prissy to take care of the child; and spose I was to git
sick, too, way off 'mong strangers—what would I do
without Prissy?”

“Oh! it wouldn't never do in the world,” ses old
Miss Stallins.

“But,” ses Mr. Mountgomery, you could git plenty
of servants at the north when you git thar.”

“What!” ses Mary; “trust my child with one of
them good-for-nuthin free niggers? No, indeed! I
wouldn't have one of 'em about me, not for no considerashun.
I never did see one of 'em what had any

---

14

“No! but,” ses the old man, “they've got plenty
of white servants at the north, what you can hire for
little or nothing.”

“Goodness gracious!” ses old Miss Stallins; “white
servants! Well, the Lord knows I wouldn't have none
of 'em 'bout me.”

“Nor me neither,” ses Mary. “It may do well
enuff for people what don't know the difference between
niggers and white folks; but I could never bear to see
a white gall toatin my child about, and waitin on me
like a nigger. It would hurt my conscience to keep
anybody 'bout me in that condition, who was as white
and as good as me.”

“That's right, my child,” ses old Miss Stallins; “no
Christian lady could do no such thing, I don't care who
they is.”

I know'd the jig was up, and I was like the boy what
the calf run over—I didn't have a word to say.

“But,” ses Mr. Mountgomery, “the're brung up
to it.”

“Well,” ses Mary, “the more sin to them that brings
'em up to be servants. A servant, to be any account
as a servant, is got to have a different kind of a spirit
from other people; and anybody that would make a
nigger of a white child, because it was pore, hain't got
no Christian principle in 'em.”

“But,” ses Mr. Mountgomery, “you know, Mrs.
Jones, when you're in Rome, you must do as Rome
does. If the northern people choose to make niggers
gentlemen, and their own children servants, you can't
help that, you know.”

“Yes; but,” ses Mary, “niggers is niggers, and
white folks is white folks, and I couldn't bear to see
neither of 'em out of ther proper places. So, if I've
got to have white servants to wait on me, or stay at

---

15

“Then, Mary,” ses I, “is our journey to be busted
up, shore enuff?”

“O no, Joseph; you can go, and I'll stay home with
mother. Maybe I won't have many more summers to
be with her, and I'd feel very bad afterwards, to think
I neglected her when she was with us.”

The old woman put her arms round Mary's neck, and
squeezed her til the tears come into her eyes.

“My sweet, good daughter,” ses she; “bless your
dear hart, you always was so kind to your pore old
mother.”

That made Mary cry a little; and little Harry, thinkin'
something was the matter, sot up a squall, too, til his
mother tuck him and talked to him a bit, and then
Prissy come and carried him in tother room.

I didn't know what to do. I always hate terribly to
be backed out of any thing what I've sot my mind on;
but to go to the north without takin' Mary along, was
something I didn't like to think about. But then, after
all my 'rangements was made, and I'd shuck hands and
bid good-by to 'most everybody in Pineville, it was too
'bominable bad to be disappinted thataway. But after
a while I told Mary I'd stay home, too, and go some
other time.

“No, no, Joseph,” ses she; “I know you want to
go, and I want to have you go, cause it'd do you good
to see the north and git acquainted with the world.
When little Harry gits big enuff so he can take care of
himself, then we can take a journey together in spite of
the old abolitionists; and then you'll know all about
the country, and it'll be a great deal pleasanter for
us all.”

“That's a fact; Mrs. Jones is right, Majer,” ses Mr.
Mountgomery. “You'd better leave your famly at
home this time. You wont be gone more'n a month

---

16

Mary blushed terrible.

“But,” ses I—

“O! you ain't 'fraid of her runnin off with anybody
fore you git back, is you?” ses he. Then the old feller
laughed like he would die.

“Ain't you 'shamed, Mr. Mountgomery, to talk that-a-way?”
ses Mary.

“You needn't be 'fraid of that, brother Joe,” ses
sister Calline, “for me and Kizzy 'll watch her monstrous
close while you're gone.”

“Shaw,” ses I; “you can't make me jealous.”

“Nor me, neither,” ses Mary.

Then old Mr. Mountgomery laughed till he knocked
the fire out of his pipe all over himself, and that sot the
galls and all of 'em to laughin worse than ever.

But I tell you what, Mr. Thompson, (and you're a
married man and will blieve what I say,) I didn't feel
much like laughin myself. I never did like this Yanky
way of married people livin' all over creation without
seein one another more'n once in a coon's age; and
the idee of 'gwine off and leavin' Mary, for a whole
month, tuck all the rinkles out of my face whenever I
tried to laugh. But the difficulty was, I couldn't help
myself. If I staid home, I couldn't be contented
about it, and all the fellers would be rigin me, 'cause I
could'nt leave my wife long enough to go to the north.
So I made up my mind to go anyhow, and make the
best I could of it.

Bimeby old Mr. Mountgomery 'lowed it was time
to be gwine home; so he bid us good-by, and promised
to come and see me off to-morrow mornin.

After the old man was gone we all sot round the fire
and talked the thing over in a family way. Mary looked
monstrous serious, but she's got too much good sense
to make a fuss 'bout sich things. She ses I must rite

---

17

All our trunks has got to be overhauled and my
things put by themselves, so I can't start til to-morrow
morning. I'm gwine as far as Augusty in my carriage,
and then take the rail-rode to Charlston. If no other
botherment don't turn up to pervent, you shall hear
from me on my Travels pretty soon. So no more from