University of Virginia Library

7. CHAPTER VII.
TIFF'S GARDEN.

Would the limits of our story admit of it, we should
gladly linger many days in the shady precincts of Magnolia
Grove, where Clayton and Nina remained some days
longer, and where the hours flew by on flowery feet; but
the inevitable time and tide, which wait for no man, wait
not for the narrator. We must therefore say, in brief, that
when the visit was concluded, Clayton accompanied Nina
once more to Canema, and returned to the circle of his own
duties.

Nina returned to her own estate, with views somewhat
chastened and modified by her acquaintance with Anne. As
Clayton supposed, the influence of a real noble purpose in life
had proved of more weight than exhortations, and she began
to feel within herself positive aspirations for some more
noble and worthy life than she had heretofore led. That
great, absorbing feeling which determines the whole destiny
of woman's existence, is in its own nature an elevating and
purifying one. It is such even when placed on an unworthy
object, and much more so when the object is a worthy one.
Since the first of their friendship, Clayton had never officiously
sought to interfere with the growth and development
of Nina's moral nature. He had sufficient sagacity
to perceive that, unconsciously to herself, a deeper power
of feeling, and a wider range of thought, was opening within
her; and he left the development of it to the same quiet
forces which swell the rosebud and guide the climbing
path of the vine. Simply and absolutely he lived his own

life before her, and let hers alone; and the power of his life
therefore became absolute.

A few mornings after her return, she thought that she would
go out and inquire after the welfare of our old friend Tiff.
It was a hazy, warm, bright summer morning, and all things
lay in that dreamy stillness, that trance of voluptuous rest,
which precedes the approach of the fiercer heats of the day.
Since her absence there had been evident improvement in
Tiff's affairs. The baby, a hearty, handsome little fellow,
by dint of good nursing, pork-sucking, and lying out doors
in the tending of breezes and zephyrs, had grown to be a
creeping creature, and followed Tiff around, in his garden
ministrations, with unintelligible chatterings of delight.

At the moment when Nina rode up, Tiff was busy with
his morning work in the garden.

His appearance, it is to be confessed, was somewhat
peculiar. He usually wore, in compliment to his nursing
duties, an apron in front; but, as his various avocations
pressed hard upon his time, and as his own personal outfit
was ever the last to be attended to, Tiff's nether garments
had shown traces of that frailty which is incident to all
human things.

“Bress me,” he said to himself, that morning, as he with
difficulty engineered his way into them, “holes here, and
holes dar! Don't want but two holes in my breeches, and
I 's got two dozen! Got my foot through de wrong place!
Por old Tiff! Laws a massy! wish I could get hold of some
of dem dar clothes dey were telling 'bout at de camp-meeting,
dey wore forty years in de wilderness! 'Mazing handy
dem ar times was! Well, any how, I 'll tie an apron behind,
and anoder in front. Bress de Lord, I 's got aprons, any
how! I must make up a par of breeches, some of dese
yer days, when de baby's teeth is all through, and Teddy's
clothes don't want no mending, and de washing is done,
and dese yer weeds stops a growing in de garden. Bress
if I know what de Lord want of so many weeds. 'Pears
like dey comes just to plague us; but, den, we does n't

know. May be dere 's some good in 'em. We does n't
know but a leetle, no way.”

Tiff was sitting on the ground weeding one of his garden-beds,
when he was surprised by the apparition of Nina on
horseback coming up to the gate. Here was a dilemma, to
be sure! No cavalier had a more absolute conception of
the nature of politeness, and the claims of beauty, rank,
and fashion, than Tiff. Then, to be caught sitting on the
ground, with a blue apron on in front, and a red one on
behind, was an appalling dilemma! However, as our readers
may have discovered, Tiff had that essential requisite of
good breeding, the moral courage to face an exigency; and,
wisely considering that a want of cordiality is a greater
deficiency than the want of costume, he rose up, without
delay, and hastened to the gate to acknowledge the honor.

“Lord bress yer sweet face, Miss Nina!” he said, while
the breezes flapped and fluttered his red and blue sails,
“Old Tiff's 'mazin' happy to see you. Miss Fanny's well,
thank ye; and Mas'r Teddy and the baby all doing nicely.
Bress de Lord, Miss Nina, be so good as to get down and
come in. I 's got some nice berries dat I picked in de
swamp, and Miss Fanny 'll be proud to have you take
some. You see,” he said, laughing heartily, and regarding
his peculiar costume, “I was n't looking for any quality
long dis yer time o' day, so I just got on my old clothes.”

“Why, Uncle Tiff, I think they become you immensely!”
said Nina. “Your outfit is really original and picturesque.
You 're not one of the people that are ashamed of their
work, are you, Uncle Tiff? So, if you just lead my horse to
that stump, I 'll get down.”

“Laws, no, Miss Nina!” said Tiff, as with alacrity he
obeyed her orders. “Spects, if Old Tiff was 'shamed of
work, he 'd have a heap to be 'shamed of; cause it 's pretty
much all work with him. 'T is so!”

“Tomtit pretended to come with me,” said Nina, as she
looked round; “but he lagged behind by the brook to get
some of those green grapes, and I suspect it 's the last I

shall see of him. So, Tiff, if you please to tie Sylphine in
the shade, I 'll go in to see Miss Fanny.”

And Nina tripped lightly up the walk, now bordered on
either side by china asters and marigolds, to where Fanny
was standing bashfully in the door waiting for her. In her
own native woods this child was one of the boldest, freest,
and happiest of romps. There was scarce an eligible tree
which she could not climb, or a thicket she had not explored.
She was familiar with every flower, every bird,
every butterfly, of the vicinity She knew precisely when
every kind of fruit would ripen, and flower would blossom;
and was so au fait in the language of birds and squirrels,
that she might almost have been considered one of the fraternity.
Her only companion and attendant, Old Tiff, had
that quaint, fanciful, grotesque nature which is the furthest
possible removed from vulgarity; and his frequent lectures
on proprieties and conventionalities, his long and prolix
narrations of her ancestral glories and distinctions, had succeeded
in infusing into her a sort of childish consciousness
of dignity, while at the same time it inspired her with a
bashful awe of those whom she saw surrounded with the
actual insignia and circumstances of position and fortune.
After all, Tiff's method of education, instinctive as it was,
was highly philosophical, since a certain degree of self-respect
is the nurse of many virtues, and a shield from
many temptations. There is also something, perhaps, in
the influence of descent. Fanny certainly inherited from
her mother a more delicate organization than generally
attends her apparent station in life. She had, also, what
perhaps belongs to the sex, a capability of receiving the
mysteries and proprieties of dress; and Nina, as she stood
on the threshold of the single low room, could not but be
struck with the general air of refinement which characterized
both it and its little mistress. There were flowers
from the swamps and hedges arranged with care and taste,
feathers of birds, strings of eggs of different color, dried
grasses, and various little woodland curiosities, which

showed a taste refined by daily intercourse with nature.
Fanny herself was arrayed in a very pretty print dress,
which her father had brought home in a recent visit, with
a cape of white muslin. Her brown hair was brushed
smoothly from her forehead, and her clear blue eyes, and
fair, rosy complexion, gave her a pleasing air of intelligence
and refinement.

“Thank you,” said Nina, as Fanny offered her the only
chair the establishment afforded; “but I 'm going with
Tiff out in the garden. I never can bear to be in the
house such days as this. You did n't expect me over so
early, Uncle Tiff; but I took a notable turn, this morning,
and routed them up to an early breakfast, on purpose that I
might have time to get over here before the heat came on.
It 's pleasant out here, now the shadow of the woods falls
across the garden so. How beautifully those trees wave!
Tiff, go on with your work — never mind me.”

“Yes, Miss Nina, it 's mighty pleasant. Why, I was
out in dis yer garden at four o'clock dis morning, and
'peared like dese yer trees was waving like a psalm, so sort
o' still, you know! Kind o' spreading out der hands like
dey 'd have prayers; and dere was a mighty handsome
star a looking down. I spects dat ar star is one of de very
oldest families up dar.”

“Most likely,” said Nina, cheerily. “They call it Venus,
the star of love, Uncle Tiff; and I believe that is a very
old family.”

“Love is a mighty good ting, any how,” said Tiff.
“Lord bress you, Miss Nina, it makes everything go kind o'
easy. Sometimes, when I 'm studding upon dese yer tings,
I says to myself, 'pears like de trees in de wood, dey loves
each oder. Dey stands kind o' locking arms so, and dey kind
o' nod der heads, and whispers so! 'Pears like de grape-vines,
and de birds, and all dem ar tings, dey lives comfortable
togeder, like dey was peaceable, and liked each
oder. Now, folks is apt to get a stewin' and a frettin'
round, and turning up der noses at dis yer ting, and dat

ar; but 'pears like de Lord's works takes everything mighty
easy. Dey just kind o' lives along peaceable. I tink it 's
mighty 'structive!”

“Certainly it is,” said Nina. “Old Mother Nature is an
excellent manager, and always goes on making the best of
everything.”

“Dere 's heaps done dat ar way, and no noise,” said Tiff.
“Why, Miss Nina, I studies upon dat ar out here in my
garden. Why, look at dat ar corn, way up over your head,
now! All dat ar growed dis yer summer. No noise 'bout
it — 'pears like nobody could n't see when 't was done.
Dey were telling us in camp-meeting how de Lord created
de heaven and de earth. Now, Miss Nina, Tiff has his own
thoughts, you know; and Tiff says, 'pears like de Lord is
creating de heaven and de earth all de time. 'Pears like
you can see Him a doing of it right afore your face; and
dem growing tings are so curus! Miss Nina, 'pears for all
de world like as if dey was critters! 'Pears like each of
'em has der own way, and won't go no oder! Dese yer
beans, dey will come up so curus right top o' de stalks;
dey will turn round de pole one way, and, if you was to
tie 'em, you could n't make 'em go round t' oder! Dey 's
set in der own way — dey is, for all dey 's so still 'bout
it! Laws, Miss Nina, dese yer tings makes Tiff laugh —
does so!” he said, sitting down, and indulging in one of
his fits of merriment.

“You are quite a philosopher, Tiff,” said Nina.

“Laws, Miss Nina, I hopes not!” said Tiff, solemnly;
“'cause one of de preachers at de camp-meeting used up
dem folk terrible, I tell you! Dat ar pretty much all I
could make out of de sermon, dat people must n't be 'losophers!
Laws, Miss Nina, I hope I an't no sich!”

“O, I mean the good kind, Uncle Tiff. But how were
you pleased, upon the whole, at the camp-meeting?” said
Nina.

“Well,” said Tiff, “Miss Nina, I hope I got something
— I don't know fa'rly how much 't is. But, Miss Nina, it

'pears like as if you had come out here to instruct us 'bout
dese yer tings. Miss Fanny, she don't read very well
yet, and 'pears like if you could read us some out of de
Bible, and teach us how to be Christians —”

“Why, Tiff, I scarcely know how myself!” said Nina.
“I 'll send Milly to talk to you. She is a real good Christian.”

“Milly is a very nice woman,” said Tiff, somewhat
doubtfully; “but, Miss Nina, 'pears like I would rather
have white teaching; 'pears like I would rather have you,
if it would n't be too much trouble.”

“O, no, Uncle Tiff! If you want to hear me read, I 'll
read to you now,” said Nina. “Have you got a Bible,
here? Stay; I 'll sit down. I 'll take the chair and sit
down in the shade, and then you need n't stop your work.”

Tiff hurried into the house to call Fanny; produced a
copy of a Testament, which, with much coaxing, he had persuaded
Cripps to bring on his last visit; and, while Fanny
sat at her feet making larkspur rings, she turned over
the pages, to think what to read. When she saw Tiff's
earnest and eager attention, her heart smote her to think
that the book, so valuable in his eyes, was to her almost an
unread volume.

“What shall I read to you, Tiff? What do you want to
hear?”

“Well, I wants to find out de shortest way I ken, how
dese yer chil'en 's to be got to heaven!” said Tiff. “Dis
yer world is mighty well long as it holds out; but, den, yer
see, it don't last forever! Tings is passing away!”

Nina thought a moment. The great question of questions,
so earnestly proposed to her! The simple, childlike
old soul hanging confidingly on her answer! At last she
said, with a seriousness quite unusual with her:

“Tiff, I think the best thing I can do is to read to you
about our Saviour. He came down into this world to show
us the way to heaven. And I 'll read you, when I come
here days, all that there is about Him — all he said and did;

and then, perhaps, you 'll see the way yourself. Perhaps,”
she added, with a sigh, “I shall, too!”

As she spoke, a sudden breeze of air shook the clusters
of a prairie-rose, which was climbing into the tree under
which she was sitting, and a shower of rose-leaves fell
around her.

“Yes,” she said to herself, as the rose-leaves fell on
her book, “it 's quite true, what he says. Everything is
passing!”

And now, amid the murmur of the pine-trees, and the
rustling of the garden-vines, came on the ear of the listeners
the first words of that sweet and ancient story:

“Now, when Jesus was born in Bethlehem in Judea, behold
there came wise men from the East, saying, `Where
is He that is born King of the Jews? For we have seen
his star in the East, and are come to worship Him.'”

Probably more cultivated minds would have checked the
progress of the legend by a thousand questions, statistical
and geographical, as to where Jerusalem was, and who the
wise men were, and how far the East was from Jerusalem,
and whether it was probable they would travel so far. But
Nina was reading to children, and to an old child-man, in
whose grotesque and fanciful nature there was yet treasured
a believing sweetness, like the amulets supposed to
belong to the good genii of the fairy tales. The quick
fancy of her auditors made reality of the story as it went
along. A cloudy Jerusalem built itself up immediately in
their souls, and became as well known to them as the
neighboring town of E—. Herod, the king, became a
real walking personage in their minds, with a crown on his
head. And Tiff immediately discerned a resemblance between
him and a certain domineering old General Eaton,
who used greatly to withstand the cause of virtue, and the
Peytons, in the neighborhood where he was brought up.
Tiff's indignation, when the slaughter of the innocents
was narrated, was perfectly outrageous. He declared “He
would n't have believed that of King Herod, bad as he

was!” and, good-hearted and inoffensive as Tiff was in
general, it really seemed to afford him comfort, “dat de
debil had got dat ar man 'fore now.”

“Sarves him right, too!” said Tiff, striking fiercely at a
weed with his hoe. “Killing all dem por little chil'en!
Why, what harm had dey done him, any way? Wonder
what he thought of hisself!”

Nina found it necessary to tranquillize the good creature,
to get a hearing for the rest of the story. She went on
reading of the wild night-journey of the wise men, and how
the star went before them till it stood over the place where
the child was. How they went in, and saw the young
child, and Mary his mother, and fell down before him, offering
gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh.

“Lord bless you! I wish I 'd a been dar!” said Tiff.
“And dat ar chile was de Lord of glory, sure 'nough, Miss
Nina! I hearn 'em sing dis yer hymn at de camp-meeting,
— you know, 'bout cold on his cradle. You know it goes
dis yer way.” And Tiff sung, to a kind of rocking lullaby,
words whose poetic imagery had hit his fancy before he
knew their meaning.

Nina had never realized, till she felt it in the undoubting
faith of her listeners, the wild, exquisite poetry of that legend,
which, like an immortal lily, blooms in the heart of
Christianity as spotless and as tender now as eighteen
hundred years ago.

That child of Bethlehem, when afterwards he taught in
Galilee, spoke of seed which fell into a good and honest
heart; and words could not have been more descriptive of
the nature which was now receiving this seed of Paradise.

When Nina had finished her reading, she found her own
heart touched by the effect which she had produced. The

nursing, child-loving Old Tiff was ready, in a moment, to
bow before his Redeemer, enshrined in the form of an infant;
and it seemed as if the air around him had been made sacred
by the sweetness of the story.

As Nina was mounting her horse to return, Tiff brought
out a little basket full of wild raspberries.

“Tiff wants to give you something,” he said.

“Thank you, Uncle Tiff. How delightful! Now, if
you 'll only give me a cluster of your Michigan rose!”

Proud and happy was Tiff, and, pulling down the very topmost
cluster of his rose, he presented it to her. Alas! before
Nina reached home, it hung drooping from the heat.

“The grass withereth, and the flower fadeth; but the
word of our God shall stand forever.”