University of Virginia Library

8. CHAPTER VIII.
OLD TIFF.

“I say, Tiff, do you think he will come, to-night?”

“Laws, laws, Missis, how can Tiff tell? I 's been a
gazin' out de do'. Don't see nor hear nothin'.”

“It 's so lonesome! — so lonesome! — and the nights so
long!”

And the speaker, an emaciated, feeble little woman, turned
herself uneasily on the ragged pallet where she was lying,
and, twirling her slender fingers nervously, gazed up at the
rough, unplastered beams above.

The room was of the coarsest and rudest cast. The hut
was framed of rough pine logs, filled between the crevices
with mud and straw; the floor made of rough-split planks,
unevenly jointed together; the window was formed by some
single panes arranged in a row where a gap had been made
in one of the logs. At one end was a rude chimney of
sticks, where smouldered a fire of pine-cones and brushwood,
covered over with a light coat of white ashes. On the
mantle over it was a shelf, which displayed sundry vials, a
cracked teapot and tumbler, some medicinal-looking packages,
a turkey's wing, much abridged and defaced by
frequent usage, some bundles of dry herbs, and lastly a
gayly-painted mug of coarse crockery-ware, containing a
bunch of wild-flowers. On pegs, driven into the logs, were
arranged different articles of female attire, and divers little
coats and dresses, which belonged to smaller wearers, with
now and then soiled and coarse articles of man's apparel.

The woman, who lay upon a coarse chaff pallet in the corner,

was one who once might have been pretty. Her skin
was fair, her hair soft and curling, her eyes of a beautiful
blue, her hands thin and transparent as pearl. But the
deep, dark circles under the eyes, the thin, white lips, the
attenuated limbs, the hurried breathing, and the burning
spots in the cheek, told that, whatever she might have been,
she was now not long for this world.

Beside her bed was sitting an old negro, in whose close-curling
wool age had begun to sprinkle flecks of white.
His countenance presented, physically, one of the most uncomely
specimens of negro features; and would have been
positively frightful, had it not been redeemed by an expression
of cheerful kindliness which beamed from it. His face
was of ebony blackness, with a wide, upturned nose, a
mouth of portentous size, guarded by clumsy lips, revealing
teeth which a shark might have envied. The only fine
feature was his large, black eyes, which, at the present,
were concealed by a huge pair of plated spectacles, placed
very low upon his nose, and through which he was directing
his sight upon a child's stocking, that he was busily
darning. At his foot was a rude cradle, made of a gum-tree
log, hollowed out into a trough, and wadded by various
old fragments of flannel, in which slept a very young infant.
Another child, of about three years of age, was sitting on
the negro's knee, busily playing with some pine-cones and
mosses.

The figure of the old negro was low and stooping; and
he wore, pinned round his shoulders, a half-handkerchief or
shawl of red flannel, arranged much as an old woman would
have arranged it. One or two needles, with coarse, black
thread dangling to them, were stuck in on his shoulder;
and, as he busily darned on the little stocking, he kept up
a kind of droning intermixture of chanting and talking to
the child on his knee.

“So, ho, Teddy! — bub dar! — my man! — sit still! —
'cause yer ma 's sick, and sister 's gone for medicine. Dar,
Tiff 'll sing to his little man.

Take car, dar! — dat ar needle scratch yer little fingers!
— poor little fingers! Ah, be still, now! — play wid yer
pretty tings, and see what yer pa 'll bring ye!”

“O, dear me! — well!” said the woman on the bed, “I
shall give up!”

“Bress de Lord, no, missis!” said Tiff, laying down the
stocking, and holding the child to him with one hand, while
the other was busy in patting and arranging the bed-clothes.
“No use in givin' up! Why, Lord bress you,
missis, we 'll be all up right agin in a few days. Work
has been kinder pressin', lately, and chil'ns clothes an't
quite so 'speckable; but den I 's doin' heaps o' mendin'.
See dat ar!” said he, holding up a slip of red flannel, resplendent
with a black patch, “dat ar hole won't go no
furder — and it does well enough for Teddy to wear rollin'
round de do', and such like times, to save his bettermost.
And de way I 's put de yarn in dese yer stockings an't slow.
Den I 's laid out to take a stitch in Teddy's shoes; and dat
ar hole in de kiverlet, dat ar 'll be stopped 'fore morning.
O, let me alone! — he! he! he! — Ye did n't keep Tiff for
nothing, missis — ho, ho, ho!” And the black face seemed
really to become unctuous with the oil of gladness, as Tiff
proceeded in his work of consolation.

“O, Tiff, Tiff! you 're a good creature! But you don't
know. Here I 've been lying alone day after day, and he off
nobody knows where! And when he comes, it 'll be only a
day, and he 's off; and all he does don't amount to anything
— all miserable rubbish brought home and traded off for other
rubbish. O, what a fool I was for being married! O, dear!
girls little know what marriage is! I thought it was so
dreadful to be an old maid, and a pretty thing to get married!
But, O, the pain, and worry, and sickness, and suffering,
I 've gone through! — always wandering from place to
place, never settled; one thing going after another, worrying,

watching, weary, — and all for nothing, for I am
worn out, and I shall die!”

“O, Lord, no!” said Tiff, earnestly. “Lor, Tiff 'll make
ye some tea, and give it to ye, ye poor lamb! It 's drefful
hard, so 't is; but times 'll mend, and massa 'll come round
and be more settled, like, and Teddy will grow up and help
his ma; and I 'm sure dere is n't a pearter young un dan
dis yer puppet!” said he, turning fondly to the trough
where the little fat, red mass of incipient humanity was
beginning to throw up two small fists, and to utter sundry
small squeaks, to intimate his desire to come into notice.

“Lor, now,” said he, adroitly depositing Teddy on the
floor, and taking up the baby, whom he regarded fondly
through his great spectacles; “stretch away, my pretty!
stretch away! ho-e-ho! Lor, if he has n't got his mammy's
eye, for all dis worl! Ah, brave! See him, missis!” said
he, laying the little bundle on the bed by her. “Did ye
ever see a peartier young un? He, he, he! Dar, now, his
mammy should take him, so she should! and Tiff 'll make
mammy some tea, so he will!” And Tiff, in a moment,
was on his knees, carefully laying together the ends of the
burned sticks, and, blowing a cloud of white ashes, which
powdered his woolly head and red shawl like snow-flakes,
while Teddy was busy in pulling the needles out of some
knitting-work which hung in a bag by the fire.

Tiff, having started the fire by blowing, proceeded very
carefully to adjust upon it a small, black porringer of water,
singing, as he did so,

Then, rising from his work, he saw that the poor, weak
mother had clasped the baby to her bosom, and was sobbing
very quietly. Tiff, as he stood there, with his short, square,
ungainly figure, his long arms hanging out from his side
like bows, his back covered by the red shawl, looked much
like a compassionate tortoise standing on its hind legs. He
looked pitifully at the sight, took off his glasses and wiped
his eyes, and lifted up his voice in another stave:

“Bress my soul, Mas'r Teddy! now us been haulin' out
de needles from Miss Fanny's work! dat ar an't purty, now!
Tiff 'll be 'shamed of ye, and ye do like dat when yer ma 's
sick! Don't ye know ye must be good, else Tiff won't tell
ye no stories! Dar, now, sit down on dis yer log; dat ar 's
just the nicest log! plenty o' moss on it yer can be a pickin'
out! Now, yer sit still dar, and don't be interruptin' yer
ma.”

The urchin opened a wide, round pair of blue eyes upon
Tiff, looking as if he were mesmerized, and sat, with a quiet,
subdued air, upon his log, while Tiff went fumbling about in
a box in the corner. After some rattling, he produced a
pine-knot, as the daylight was fading fast in the room, and,
driving it into a crack in another log which stood by the
chimney corner, he proceeded busily to light it, muttering,
as he did so,

“Want to make it more cheerful like.”

Then he knelt down and blew the coals under the little
porringer, which, like pine-coals in general, always sulked
and looked black when somebody was not blowing them.
He blew vigorously, regardless of the clouds of ashes which
encircled him, and which settled even on the tips of his eyelashes,
and balanced themselves on the end of his nose.

“Bress de Lord, I 's dreadful strong in my breff! Lord,
dey might have used me in blacksmissin! I 's kep dis yer
chimney a gwine dis many a day. I wonder, now, what
keeps Miss Fanny out so long.”

And Tiff rose up with the greatest precaution, and, glancing

every moment towards the bed, and almost tipping himself
over in his anxiety to walk softly, advanced to the
rude door, which opened with a wooden latch and string,
opened it carefully, and looked out. Looking out with him,
we perceive that the little hut stands alone, in the heart of
a dense pine forest, which shuts it in on every side.

Tiff held the door open a few moments to listen. No
sound was heard but the shivering wind, swaying and surging
in melancholy cadences through the long pine-leaves, —
a lonesome, wailing, uncertain sound.

“Ah! dese yer pine-trees! dey always a talkin'!” said
Tiff to himself, in a sort of soliloquy. “Whisper, whisper,
whisper! De Lord knows what it 's all about! dey never
tells folks what dey wants to know. Hark! da is Foxy, as
sure as I 'm a livin sinner! Ah! dar she is!” as a quick,
loud bark reverberated. “Ah, ha! Foxy! you 'll bring her
along!” caressing a wolfish-looking, lean cur, who came
bounding through the trees.

“Ah, yer good-for-nothing! what makes yer run so fast,
and leave yer missus behind ye? Hark! what 's dat!”

The clear voice came carolling gayly from out the pine-trees,

Whereupon Tiff, kindling with enthusiasm, responded,

The response was followed by a gay laugh, as a childish
voice shouted, from the woods,

“Ha! Tiff, you there?”

And immediately a bold, bright, blue-eyed girl, of about
eight years old, came rushing forward.

“Lors, Miss Fannie, so grad you 's come! Yer ma 's
powerful weak dis yer arternoon!” And then, sinking his
voice to a whisper, “Why, now, yer 'd better b'leve her

sperits is n't the best! Why, she 's that bad, Miss Fannie,
she actually been a cryin' when I put the baby in her arms.
Railly, I 'm consarned, and I wish yer pa 'ud come home.
Did yer bring de medicine?”

“Ah, yes; here 't is.”

“Ah! so good! I was a makin' of her some tea, to set
her up, like, and I 'll put a little drop of dis yer in 't. You
gwin, now, and speak to yer ma, and I 'll pick up a little
light wood round here, and make up de fire. Massa Teddy
'll be powerful glad to see yer. Hope you 's got him
something, too!”

The girl glided softly into the room, and stood over the
bed where her mother was lying.

“Mother, I 've come home,” said she, gently.

The poor, frail creature in the bed seemed to be in one of
those helpless hours of life's voyage, when all its waves
and billows are breaking over the soul; and while the little
new-comer was blindly rooting and striving at her breast,
she had gathered the worn counterpane over her face, and
the bed was shaken by her sobbings.

“Mother! mother! mother!” said the child, softly touching
her.

“Go away! go away, child! O, I wish I had never been
born! I wish you had never been born, nor Teddy, nor the
baby! It 's all nothing but trouble and sorrow! Fanny,
don't you ever marry! Mind what I tell you!”

The child stood frightened by the bedside, while Tiff had
softly deposited a handful of pine-wood near the fireplace,
had taken off the porringer, and was busily stirring and
concocting something in an old cracked china mug. As he
stirred, a strain of indignation seemed to cross his generally
tranquil mind, for he often gave short sniffs and grunts, indicative
of extreme disgust, and muttered to himself,

“Dis yer comes of quality marrying these yer poor white
folks! Never had no 'pinion on it, no way! Ah! do hear
the poor lamb now! 'nough to break one's heart!”

By this time, the stirring and flavoring being finished to

his taste, he came to the side of the bed, and began, in a
coaxing tone,

“Come, now, Miss Sue, come! You 's all worn out!
No wonder! dat ar great fellow tugging at you! Bless
his dear little soul, he 's gaining half a pound a week!
Nough to pull down his ma entirely! Come, now; take a
little sup of this — just a little sup! Warm you up, and
put a bit of life in you; and den I 'spects to fry you a morsel
of der chicken, 'cause a boy like dis yer can't be nursed
on slops, dat I knows! Dere, dere, honey!” said he, gently
removing the babe, and passing his arm under the pillow.
“I 's drefful strong in the back. My arm is long and strong,
and I 'll raise you up just as easy! Take a good sup on it,
now, and wash dese troubles down. I reckon the good man
above is looking down on us all, and bring us all round
right, some time.”

The invalid, who seemed exhausted by the burst of feeling
to which she had been giving way, mechanically obeyed
a voice to which she had always been accustomed, and
drank eagerly, as if with feverish thirst; and when she had
done, she suddenly threw her arms around the neck of her
strange attendant.

“O, Tiff, Tiff! poor old black, faithful Tiff! What should
I have done without you? So sick as I 've been, and so
weak, and so lonesome! But, Tiff, it 's coming to an end
pretty soon. I 've seen, to-night, that I an't going to live
long, and I 've been crying to think the children have got
to live. If I could only take them all into my arms, and all
lie down in the grave together, I should be so glad! I
never knew what God made me for! I 've never been fit
for anything, nor done anything!”

Tiff seemed so utterly overcome by this appeal, his great
spectacles were fairly washed down in a flood of tears, and
his broad, awkward frame shook with sobs.

“Law bless you, Miss Sue, don't be talking dat ar way!
Why, if de Lord should call you, Miss Sue, I can take care
of the children. I can bring them up powerful, I tell ye!

But you won't be a-going; you 'll get better! It 's just the
sperits is low; and, laws, why should n't dey be?”

Just at this moment a loud barking was heard outside the
house, together with the rattle of wheels and the tramp of
horses' feet.

“Dar 's massa, sure as I 'm alive!” said he, hastily laying
down the invalid, and arranging her pillows.

A rough voice called, “Hallo, Tiff! here with a light!”

Tiff caught the pine-knot, and ran to open the door. A
strange-looking vehicle, of a most unexampled composite
order, was standing before the door, drawn by a lean, one-eyed
horse.

“Here, Tiff, help me out. I 've got a lot of goods here.
How 's Sue?”

“Missis is powerful bad; been wanting to see you dis
long time.”

“Well, away, Tiff! take this out,” indicating a long,
rusty piece of stove-pipe.

“Lay this in the house; and here!” handing a cast-iron
stove-door, with the latch broken.

“Law, Massa, what on earth is the use of dis yer?”

“Don't ask questions, Tiff; work away. Help me out
with these boxes.”

“What on arth now?” said Tiff to himself, as one rough
case after another was disgorged from the vehicle, and
landed in the small cabin. This being done, and orders
being given to Tiff to look after the horse and equipage,
the man walked into the house, with a jolly, slashing air.

“Hallo, bub!” said he, lifting the two-year-old above
his head. “Hallo, Fan!” imprinting a kiss on the cheek
of his girl. “Hallo, Sis!” coming up to the bed where
the invalid lay, and stooping down over her. Her weak,
wasted arms were thrown around his neck, and she said,
with sudden animation,

“O, you 've come at last! I thought I should die without
seeing you!”

“O, you an't a-going to die, Sis! Why, what talk!”

said he, chucking her under the chin. “Why, your cheeks
are as red as roses!”

“Pa, see the baby!” said little Teddy, who, having
climbed over the bed, opened the flannel bundle.

“Ah! Sis, I call that ar a tolerable fair stroke of business!
Well, I tell you what, I 've done up a trade now
that will set us up, and no mistake. Besides which, I 've
got something now in my coat-pocket that would raise a
dead cat to life, if she was lying at the bottom of a pond,
with a stone round her neck! See here! `Dr. Puffer's
Elixir of the Water of Life!' warranted to cure janders,
tooth-ache, ear-ache, scrofula, speptia, 'sumption, and everything
else that ever I hearn of! A teaspoonful of that ar,
morn and night, and in a week you 'll be round agin, as pert
as a cricket!”

It was astonishing to see the change which the entrance
of this man had wrought on the invalid. All her apprehensions
seemed to have vanished. She sat up on the bed, following
his every movement with her eyes, and apparently
placing full confidence in the new medicine, as if it were the
first time that ever a universal remedy had been proposed
to her. It must be noticed, however, that Tiff, who had
returned, and was building the fire, indulged himself, now
and then, when the back of the speaker was turned, by
snuffing at him in a particularly contemptuous manner. The
man was a thick-set and not ill-looking personage, who
might have been forty or forty-five years of age. His eyes,
of a clear, lively brown, his close-curling hair, his high forehead,
and a certain devil-may-care frankness of expression,
were traits not disagreeable, and which went some way to
account for the partial eagerness with which the eye of the
wife followed him.

The history of the pair is briefly told. He was the son
of a small farmer of North Carolina. His father having been
so unfortunate as to obtain possession of a few negroes, the
whole family became ever after inspired with an intense disgust
for all kinds of labor; and John, the oldest son, adopted

for himself the ancient and honorable profession of a loafer.
To lie idle in the sun in front of some small grog-shop, to
attend horse-races, cock-fights, and gander-pullings, to flout
out occasionally in a new waistcoat, bought with money
which came nobody knew how, were pleasures to him all-satisfactory.
He was as guiltless of all knowledge of common-school
learning as Governor Berkley could desire, and
far more clear of religious training than a Mahometan or a
Hindoo.

In one of his rambling excursions through the country,
he stopped a night at a worn-out and broken-down old plantation,
where everything had run down, through many years
of mismanagement and waste. There he staid certain days,
playing cards with the equally hopeful son of the place, and
ended his performances by running away one night with the
soft-hearted daughter, only fifteen years of age, and who
was full as idle, careless, and untaught, as he.

The family, whom poverty could not teach to forget their
pride, were greatly scandalized at the marriage; and, had
there been anything left in the worn-out estate wherewith
to portion her, the bride, nevertheless, would have been
portionless. The sole piece of property that went out with
her from the paternal mansion was one, who, having a mind
and will of his own, could not be kept from following her.
The girl's mother had come from a distant branch of one of
the most celebrated families in Virginia, and Tiff had been
her servant; and, with a heart forever swelling with the remembrances
of the ancestral greatness of the Peytons, he followed
his young mistress in her mésalliance with long-suffering
devotion. He even bowed his neck so far as to
acknowledge for his master a man whom he considered by
position infinitely his inferior; for Tiff, though crooked and
black, never seemed to cherish the slightest doubt that
the whole force of the Peyton blood coursed through his
veins, and that the Peyton honor was intrusted to his keeping.
His mistress was a Peyton, her children were Peyton
children, and even the little bundle of flannel in the gum-tree

cradle was a Peyton; and as for him, he was Tiff Peyton,
and this thought warmed and consoled him as he followed
his poor mistress during all the steps of her downward
course in the world. On her husband he looked with
patronizing, civil contempt. He wished him well; he
thought it proper to put the best face on all his actions;
but, in a confidential hour, Tiff would sometimes raise his
spectacles emphatically, and give it out, as his own private
opinion, “that dere could not be much 'spected from dat ar
'scription of people!”

In fact, the roving and unsettled nature of John Cripps's
avocations and locations might have justified the old fellow's
contempt. His industrial career might be defined as comprising
a little of everything, and a great deal of nothing.
He had begun, successively, to learn two or three trades;
had half made a horse-shoe, and spoiled one or two carpenter's
planes; had tried his hand at stage-driving; had raised
fighting-cocks, and kept dogs for hunting negroes. But he
invariably retreated from every one of his avocations, in his
own opinion a much-abused man. The last device that had
entered his head was suggested by the success of a shrewd
Yankee pedler, who, having a lot of damaged and unsalable
material to dispose of, talked him into the belief that he
possessed yet an undeveloped talent for trade; and poor
John Cripps, guiltless of multiplication or addition table,
and who kept his cock-fighting accounts on his fingers and
by making chalk-marks behind the doors, actually was made
to believe that he had at last received his true vocation.

In fact, there was something in the constant restlessness
of this mode of life that suited his roving turn; and, though
he was constantly buying what he could not sell, and losing
on all that he did sell, yet somehow he kept up an illusion
that he was doing something, because stray coins now
and then passed through his pockets, and because the circle
of small taverns in which he could drink and loaf was considerably
larger. There was one resource which never failed

him when all other streams went dry; and that was the
unceasing ingenuity and fidelity of the bondman Tiff.

Tiff, in fact, appeared to be one of those comfortable old
creatures, who retain such a good understanding with all
created nature that food never is denied them. Fish would
always bite on Tiff's hook when they would n't on anybody's
else; so that he was wont confidently to call the
nearest stream “Tiff's pork-barrel.” Hens always laid
eggs for Tiff, and cackled to him confidentially where they
were deposited. Turkeys gobbled and strutted for him, and
led forth for him broods of downy little ones. All sorts of
wild game, squirrels, rabbits, coons, and possums, appeared
to come with pleasure and put themselves into his traps and
springes; so that, where another man might starve, Tiff
would look round him with unctuous satisfaction, contemplating
all nature as his larder, where his provisions were
wearing fur coats, and walking about on four legs, only for
safe keeping till he got ready to eat them. So that Cripps
never came home without anticipation of something savory,
even although he had drank up his last quarter of a dollar at
the tavern. This suited Cripps. He thought Tiff was doing
his duty, and occasionally brought him home some unsalable
bit of rubbish, by way of testimonial of the sense he
entertained of his worth. The spectacles in which Tiff
gloried came to him in this manner; and, although it might
have been made to appear that the glasses were only plain
window-glass, Tiff was happily ignorant that they were not
the best of convex lenses, and still happier in the fact that
his strong, unimpaired eyesight made any glasses at all entirely
unnecessary. It was only an aristocratic weakness in
Tiff. Spectacles he somehow considered the mark of a
gentleman, and an appropriate symbol for one who had
“been fetched up in the very fustest families of Old Virginny.”

He deemed them more particularly appropriate, as, in addition
to his manifold outward duties, he likewise assumed,
as the reader has seen, some feminine accomplishments.

Tiff could darn a stocking with anybody in the country; he
could cut out children's dresses and aprons; he could patch,
and he could seam; all which he did with infinite self-satisfaction.

Notwithstanding the many crooks and crosses in his lot,
Tiff was, on the whole, a cheery fellow. He had an oily,
rollicking fulness of nature, an exuberance of physical
satisfaction in existence, that the greatest weight of adversity
could only tone down to becoming sobriety. He was
on the happiest terms of fellowship with himself; he liked
himself, he believed in himself; and, when nobody else
would do it, he would pat himself on his own shoulder, and
say, “Tiff, you 're a jolly dog, a fine fellow, and I like you!”
He was seldom without a running strain of soliloquy with
himself, intermingled with joyous bursts of song, and quiet
intervals of laughter. On pleasant days Tiff laughed a great
deal. He laughed when his beans came up, he laughed when
the sun came out after a storm, he laughed for fifty things
that you never think of laughing at; and it agreed with him
— he throve upon it. In times of trouble and perplexity,
Tiff talked to himself, and found a counsellor who always
kept secrets. On the present occasion it was not without
some inward discontent that he took a survey of the remains
of one of his best-fatted chickens, which he had been
intending to serve up, piecemeal, for his mistress. So he
relieved his mind by a little confidential colloquy with himself.

“Dis yer,” he said to himself, with a contemptuous inclination
towards the newly-arrived, “will be for eating like
a judgment, I 'pose. Wish, now, I had killed de old gobbler!
Good enough for him — raal tough, he is. Dis yer,
now, was my primest chicken, and dar she 'll jist sit and see
him eat it! Laws, dese yer women! Why, dey does get
so sot on husbands! Pity they could n't have something
like to be sot on! It jist riles me to see him gobbling
down everything, and she a-looking on! Well, here goes,”
said he, depositing the frying-pan over the coals, in which

the chicken was soon fizzling. Drawing out the table, Tiff
prepared it for supper. Soon coffee was steaming over the
fire, and corn-dodgers baking in the ashes. Meanwhile,
John Cripps was busy explaining to his wife the celebrated
wares that had so much raised his spirits.

“Well, now, you see, Sue, this yer time I 've been up to
Raleigh; and I met a fellow there, coming from New York,
or New Orleans, or some of them northern states.

“New Orleans is n't a northern state,” humbly interposed
his wife, “is it?”

“Well, New something! Who the devil cares? Don't
you be interrupting me, you Suse!”

Could Cripps have seen the vengeful look which Tiff
gave him over the spectacles at this moment, he might
have trembled for his supper. But, innocent of this, he
proceeded with his story.

“You see, this yer fellow had a case of bonnets just the
height of the fashion. They come from Paris, the capital
of Europe; and he sold them to me for a mere song. Ah,
you ought to see 'em! I 'm going to get 'em out. Tiff,
hold the candle, here.” And Tiff held the burning torch
with an air of grim scepticism and disgust, while Cripps
hammered and wrenched the top boards off, and displayed
to view a portentous array of bonnets, apparently of every
obsolete style and fashion of the last fifty years.

“Dem 's fust rate for scare-crows, anyhow!” muttered
Tiff.

“Now, what,” said Cripps, — “Sue, what do you think I
gave for these?”

“I don't know,” said she, faintly.

“Well, I gave fifteen dollars for the whole box! And
there an't one of these,” said he, displaying the most singular
specimen on his hand, “that is n't worth from two to five
dollars. I shall clear, at least, fifty dollars on that box.”

Tiff, at this moment, turned to his frying-pan, and bent
over it, soliloquizing as he did so.

“Any way, I 's found out one ting — where de women

gets dem roosts of bonnets dey wars at camp-meetings.
Laws, dey 's enough to spile a work of grace, dem ar! If I
was to meet one of dem ar of a dark night in a grave-yard,
I should tink I was sent for — not the pleasantest way of
sending, neither. Poor missis! — looking mighty faint! —
Don't wonder! — 'Nough to scarr a weakly woman into
fits!”

“Here, Tiff, help me to open this box. Hold the light,
here. Durned if it don't come off hard! Here 's a lot of
shoes and boots I got of the same man. Some on 'em 's
mates, and some an't; but, then, I took the lot cheap.
Folks don't always warr both shoes alike. Might like to
warr an odd one, sometimes, ef it 's cheap. Now, this yer
parr of boots is lady's gaiters, all complete, 'cept there 's a
hole in the lining down by the toe; body ought to be careful
about putting it on, else the foot will slip between the
outside and the lining. Anybody that bears that in mind
— just as nice a pair of gaiters as they 'd want! Bargain,
there, for somebody — complete one, too. Then I 've got
two or three old bureau-drawers that I got cheap at auction;
and I reckon some on 'em will fit the old frame that
I got last year. Got 'em for a mere song.”

“Bless you, massa, dat ar old bureau I took for de chicken-coop!
Turkeys' chickens hops in lively.”

“O, well, scrub it up — 't will answer just as well. Fit
the drawers in. And now, old woman, we will sit down
to supper,” said he, planting himself at the table, and beginning
a vigorous onslaught on the fried chicken, without
invitation to any other person present to assist him.

“Missis can't sit up at the table,” said Tiff. “She 's
done been sick ever since de baby was born.” And Tiff
approached the bed with a nice morsel of chicken which he
had providently preserved on a plate, and which he now
reverently presented on a board, as a waiter, covered with
newspaper.

“Now, do eat, missis; you can't live on looking, no

ways you can fix it. Do eat, while Tiff gets on de baby's
night-gown.”

To please her old friend, the woman made a feint of eating,
but, while Tiff's back was turned to the fire, busied
herself with distributing it to the children, who had stood
hungrily regarding her, as children will regard what is put
on to a sick mother's plate.

“It does me good to see them eat,” she said, apologetically
once, when Tiff, turning round, detected her in the
act.

“Ah, missis, may be! but you 've got to eat for two, now.
What dey eat an't going to dis yer little man, here. Mind
dat ar.”

Cripps apparently bestowed very small attention on anything
except the important business before him, which he
prosecuted with such devotion that very soon coffee,
chicken, and dodgers, had all disappeared. Even the bones
were sucked dry, and the gravy wiped from the dish.

“Ah, that 's what I call comfortable!” said he, lying
back in his chair. “Tiff, pull my boots off! and hand out
that ar demijohn. Sue, I hope you 've made a comfortable
meal,” he said, incidentally, standing with his back to her,
compounding his potation of whiskey and water; which
having drank, he called up Teddy, and offered him the sugar
at the bottom of the glass. But Teddy, being forewarned
by a meaning glance through Tiff's spectacles, responded,
very politely,

“No, I thank you, pa. I don't love it.”

“Come here, then, and take it off like a man. It 's good
for you,” said John Cripps.

The mother's eyes followed the child wishfully; and she
said, faintly, “Don't, John! — don't!” And Tiff ended
the controversy by taking the glass unceremoniously out
of his master's hand.

“Laws bless you, massa, can't be bodered with dese
yer young ones dis yer time of night! Time dey 's all in
bed, and dishes washed up. Here. Tedd,” seizing the

child, and loosening the buttons of his slip behind, and
drawing out a rough trundle-bed, “you crawl in dere, and
curl up in your nest; and don't you forget your prars,
honey, else maybe you 'll never wake up again.”

Cripps had now filled a pipe with tobacco of the most villainous
character, with which incense he was perfuming the
little apartment.

“Laws, massa, dat ar smoke an't good for missis,” said
Tiff. “She done been sick to her stomach all day.”

“O, let him smoke! I like to have him enjoy himself,”
said the indulgent wife. “But, Fanny, you had better go
to bed, dear. Come here and kiss me, child; good-night,
— good-night!”

The mother held on to her long, and looked at her wishfully;
and when she had turned to go, she drew her back,
and kissed her again, and said, “Good-night, dear child,
good-night!”

Fanny climbed up a ladder in one corner of the room,
through a square hole, to the loft above.

“I say,” said Cripps, taking his pipe out of his mouth,
and looking at Tiff, who was busy washing the dishes, “I
say it 's kind of peculiar that gal keeps sick so. Seemed
to have good constitution when I married her. I 'm thinking,”
said he, without noticing the gathering wrath in
Tiff 's face, “I 'm a thinking whether steamin' would n't do
her good. Now, I got a most dreadful cold when I was up
at Raleigh — thought I should have given up; and there
was a steam-doctor there. Had a little kind of machine,
with kettle and pipes, and he put me in a bed, put in the
pipes, and set it a-going. I thought, my soul, I should have
been floated off; but it carried off the cold, complete. I 'm
thinking if something of that kind would n't be good for
Miss Cripps.”

“Laws, massa, don't go for to trying it on her! She is
never no better for dese yer things you do for her.”

“Now,” said Cripps, not appearing to notice the interruption,

“these yer stove-pipes, and the tea-kettle, — I
should n't wonder if we could get up a steam with them!”

“It 's my private 'pinion, if you do, she 'll be sailing out
of the world,” said Tiff. “What 's one man's meat is
another one's pisin, my old mis's used to say. Very best
thing you can do for her is to let her alone. Dat ar is my
'pinion.”

“John,” said the little woman, after a few minutes, “I
wish you 'd come here, and sit on the bed.”

There was something positive, and almost authoritative, in
the manner in which this was said, which struck John as so
unusual, that he came with a bewildered air, sat down, and
gazed at her with his mouth wide open.

“I 'm so glad you 've come home, because I have had
things that I 've wanted to say to you! I 've been lying
here thinking about it, and I have been turning it over in
my mind. I 'm going to die soon, I know.”

“Ah! bah! Don't be bothering a fellow with any of
your hysterics!”

“John, John! it is n't hysterics! Look at me! Look
at my hand! look at my face! I 'm so weak, and sometimes
I have such coughing spells, and every time it seems
to me as if I should die. But it an't to trouble you that I
talk. I don't care about myself, but I don't want the children
to grow up and be like what we 've been. You have a
great many contrivances; do, pray, contrive to have them
taught to read, and make something of them in the world.”

“Bah! what 's the use? I never learnt to read, and
I 'm as good a fellow as I want. Why, there 's plenty of
men round here making their money, every year, that can't
read or write a word. Old Hubell, there, up on the Shad
plantation, has hauled in money, hand over hand, and he
always signs his mark. Got nine sons — can't a soul of
them read or write, more than I. I tell you there 's nothing
ever comes of this yer larning. It 's all a sell — a regular
Yankee hoax! I 've always got cheated by them damn
reading, writing Yankees, whenever I 've traded with 'em.

What 's the good, I want to know! You was teached how
to read when you was young — much good it 's ever done
you!”

“Sure enough! Sick day and night, moving about
from place to place, sick baby crying, and not knowing
what to do for it no more than a child! O, I hope Fanny
will learn something! It seems to me, if there was some
school for my children to go to, or some church, or something
— now, if there is any such place as heaven, I should
like to have them get to it.”

“Ah! bah! Don't bother about that! When we get
keeled up, that will be the last of us! Come, come, don't
plague a fellow any more with such talk! I 'm tired, and
I 'm going to sleep.” And the man, divesting himself of
his overcoat, threw himself on the bed, and was soon snoring
heavily in profound slumber.

Tiff, who had been trotting the baby by the fire, now
came softly to the bedside, and sat down,

“Miss Sue,” he said, “it 's no 'count talking to him! I
don't mean nothing dis'pectful, Miss Sue, but de fac is,
dem dat is n't born gentlemen can't be 'spected fur to see
through dese yer things like us of de old families. Law,
missis, don't you worry! Now, jest leave dis yer matter to
old Tiff! Dere never was n't anything Tiff could n't do, if
he tried. He! he! he! Miss Fanny, she done got de letters
right smart; and I know I 'll come it round mas'r, and
make him buy de books for her. I 'll tell you what 's come
into my head, to-day. There 's a young lady come to de
big plantation, up dere, who 's been to New York getting
edicated, and I 's going for to ask her about dese yer
things. And, about de chil'en's going to church, and dese
yer things, why, preaching, you know, is mazin' unsartain
round here; but I 'll keep on de look-out, and do de best
I can. Why, Lord, Miss Sue, I 's bound for the land of
Canaan, myself, the best way I ken; and I 'm sartain I
shan't go without taking the chil'en along with me. Ho!
ho! ho! Dat 's what I shan't! De chil'en will have to be

with Tiff, and Tiff will have to be with the chil'en, where-ever
dey is! Dat 's it! He! he! he!”

“Tiff,” said the young woman, her large blue eyes looking
at him, “I have heard of the Bible. Have you ever
seen one, Tiff?”

“O, yes, honey, dar was a big Bible that your ma brought
in the family when she married; but dat ar was tore up to
make wadding for de guns, one thing or another, and dey
never got no more. But I 's been very 'serving, and kept
my ears open in a camp-meeting, and such places, and I 's
learnt right smart of de things that 's in it.”

“Now, Tiff, can you say anything?” said she, fixing her
large, troubled eyes on him.

“Well, honey, dere 's one thing the man said at de last
camp-meeting. He preached 'bout it, and I could n't make
out a word he said, 'cause I an't smart about preaching like
I be about most things. But he said dis yer so often that
I could n't help 'member it. Says he, it was dish yer way:
`Come unto me, all ye labor and are heavy laden, and I will
give you rest.'”

“Rest, rest, rest!” said the woman, thoughtfully, and
drawing a long sigh. “O, how much I want it! Did he
say that was in the Bible?”

“Yes, he said so; and I spects, by all he said, it 's de
good man above dat says it. It always makes me feel better
to think on it. It 'peared like it was jist what I was
wanting to hear.”

“And I, too!” she said, turning her head wearily, and
closing her eyes. “Tiff,” she said, opening them, “where
I 'm going, may be I shall meet the one who said that, and
I 'll ask him about it. Don't talk to me more, now. I 'm
getting sleepy. I thought I was better a little while after
he came home, but I 'm more tired yet. Put the baby in
my arms — I like the feeling of it. There, there; now give
me rest — please do!” and she sank into a deep and quiet
slumber.

Tiff softly covered the fire, and sat down by the bed,

watching the flickering shadows as they danced upward on
the wall, listening to the heavy sighs of the pine-trees, and
the hard breathing of the sleeping man. Sometimes he
nodded sleepily, and then, recovering, rose, and took a turn
to awaken himself. A shadowy sense of fear fell upon him;
not that he apprehended anything, for he regarded the
words of his mistress only as the forebodings of a wearied
invalid. The idea that she could actually die, and go anywhere,
without him to take care of her, seemed never to
have occurred to him. About midnight, as if a spirit had
laid its hand upon him, his eyes flew wide open with a sudden
start. Her thin, cold hand was lying on his; her eyes,
large and blue, shone with a singular and spiritual radiance.

“Tiff,” she gasped, speaking with difficulty, “I 've seen
the one that said that, and it 's all true, too! and I 've seen
all why I 've suffered so much. He — He — He is going
to take me! Tell the children about Him!” There was a
fluttering sigh, a slight shiver, and the lids fell over the
eyes forever.