THE ABSENT-MINDED JUDGE.
Burnbrae, the home of the Barings, with its productive acres fringed by
vine-clad vales and hills, had by an irrevocable event passed
irredeemably out of the possession of its embarrassed owner, and
heart-broken the old man yielded his tenure to the new master. The
mortgage debt and taxes, like omniverous caterpillars, began to eat away
at its four corners at one and the same time. Mr. Baring could only
await the inevitable hour with the saddest apprehensions. For himself it
was a matter of little consequence, for like the sea-tossed sailor, he
could discern within the length of a cable the ultimate haven,
land-locked and tranquil; but for his two daughters who would survive
him the stroke was almost heart-crushing.
The forced sales of beautiful homesteads like Burnbrae, in the days of
reconstruction were not much of an incident; when there was no halting
by that unbrigaded army that was laying waste field and plantation, and
scourging the land into nakedness; when by the extra judicial processes
of assimilation and absorption the spoils system was budding into a
vigorous life and the spoilsmen were animated, remorseless and
persevering.
Around this home there were memories dear and tender, trellissed in the
affections of the Barings; incense came forth from chambers and bowers,
and out yonder where the smooth white stones glisten in the moonlight
like platoons of white-gowned maidens, the Baring generations lay in
unbroken files.
It is a sad thing to see a home, like a worthless chattel, under the
hammer of a callous-hearted auctioneer; to hear him cry going, going,
going, with as much delight as if he were parting company with a
pestilence; but alas! with the owner it is like a judgment of outlawry
to pass the keys, the symbolical title, to the purchaser, who is
animated by no kind sentiment; who sees no tears and hears no sighs.
"Going, going, going!" There slips out of the master's control the
nursery where infancy was cradled, swathed in the manifolding of love
and tenderness.
I see in retrospection a beautiful young mother, with a redundance of
soft black hair as velvety as the wing of a raven, with her foot upon
the rocker smiling so sweetly upon the sleepy-eyed child, who arouses
her little tired self only long enough to whisper dreamily,
"Sing please, again, mama; sing Dix--" and falls asleep. And then there
is the old conservatory just under mother's window, aromatic with
memories. Mother called it her "Flowery kingdom," because every morning
and every evening she entered her throne-room there with its dais of
japonicas and camelias; and there were her little maids of honor in
russet and gold and carmine glistening in dewy diamonds and pearls; and
they would thrust back their silky night-caps and their little eyes
would be bright, as they peeped out of tiny hoods of blue and purple,
red and white. Ah, this was a royal realm of the queen mother, and those
little star rayed princesses were so loyal in their beauty and
fragrance. And this, too, like a beautiful pantomime, was passing away,
leaving only shadows that, like some horrid dream, were darkening the
soul. Oh, the charm, the aroma of the vine-clad conservatory, dear
mother's "Flowery kingdom" and her little royal maids?
And there is the old drawing-room with a bountiful bouquet of memories.
This hallowed chamber was so often refreshed in the golden twilight by
mother's presence, by mother's devotions, by mother's voice as it
blended softly with the harmonies of the old harpsichord; and it seems
as if there were sweet chimes out of doors in the stilly air, and
perhaps the stars were re-enforcing the old songs with whispering
symphonies.
Then there was the chamber just next to mother's, embowered in columbine
and the trailing arbutus where there are treasured still old letters,
books and shoes and articles of vertu that belonged to Walter; just
where he placed them before he enlisted in the Confederate cavalry;
before he died and was rudely buried without a winding sheet, under the
clods of the Shenandoah valley, that day that Stonewall Jackson unfurled
the star barred banner in the streets of Winchester; to rest, aye, to
rest until the bugler of the skies shall pipe the reveille. Going,
going, going. It is the knell of happy days; the dirge of hearts crushed
by sacrifices, sorrows; it is the thud of the cold clay upon the coffin
of hope; the shroud that a remorseless destiny has flung around our
idols as they fall one by one from their pedestals. "Going, going,
going," the echo is thrust back upon the bruised heart from the white
cold stones out yonder under the Mulberry. Perhaps Mr. Baring's
daughters, who planted about these sacred mounds the star eyed daisies
and the lily white violets, never thought of the dance that should go on
and on to the fascination of lute and harp in the resounding halls, when
the stranger should occupy in his right dear old Burnbrae. So
bewildering are the changes in this life. It seems to them but yesterday
that their lovely sister, a maiden of sixteen years, was laid away by
the side of their mother, to arise one day transfigured and glorified;
and now they were going to tell the old home with its cherished
memorials good-bye; and the old graveyard and mother's vine clad
"Flowery kingdom" too. Ah, every footfall is like an echo from some
deserted shrine; and there is no kind voice to bid them "come again."
The little twittering birds are piping the refrain of the sad, sad song
of the auctioneer. Others enter now with the keys of a lawful dominion;
they unlock the dead chambers, but the fragrance of happy lives is gone
like the breath exhaled from the nostril. The stranger never heard the
old harpsichord with its responsive chords, as they were swept by
mother's lily white hands and almost syllabled her angel voice. They
were never charmed by that sweet sunny voice that in so many twilights
has been singing vespers in heaven; they know naught of the dead white
ashes that lay in the unlighted furnaces of the poor souls, who are
saying now so tenderly, so tearfully, to their old home and its
memorials, its idols, "Good-bye, good-bye!"
Judge Bonham, the purchaser, had been highly distinguished in the civic
and military employments of the country. Like his old friend, Colonel
Seymour, he was with Lee at Spottsylvania, Gettysburg and Appommattox,
and like his colleague in the humiliations of the hour he had declined
to "bend the pregnant hinges of the knee that thrift may follow
fawning." To say that under all circumstances he maintained a
perpendicular, from which there was no swerving backwards or forwards or
to the right, or the left would be a falsification of biography. He,
like all other mortals upon this terrene had his passions, when his
temper, despite curbs and restraints, almost overmastered him. Judicial
experiences had affected his manners, so that he appeared austere and
unfriendly; but he had a kind heart, open-handed to a fault, true to his
convictions, his friends, his God.
There were curves and lines in the physical man here and there that
appeared misplaced and misshapen. His long stringy hair or what there
was left of it, was of a carrotty color, his nose was aquiline with
unnatural projections, and his mouth though a little rigid in outline
displayed, when animated, a beautiful set of teeth.
He was a very scholarly man; a religious man too, and entertained
throughout his life strong Calvinistic convictions. It was strange
indeed that a gentleman so exemplary in life, should sometimes run the
hazard of being suspected as a rogue by those who were ignorant of the
infirmity that harassed him all of his years. When meditating upon this
playfulness of nature he would observe confidentially, that in any
community where he was not known he would be oftener in the State's
prison than without it.
"Better a Bedouin in the trackless desert than a man who is forever
running the gauntlet at such a risk," he said embarrassingly.
There was the gossip of the town in which he lived as biting as the hoar
frost, revamped and magnified to his hurt. When the gossipping spinsters
heard that the judge was reinforcing his natural attractiveness by the
glossiest and finest of raiment, coming out of the wardrobe like the
butterfly out of the chrysalis, they hurried to and fro among the
neighbors, like magpies chattering and twittering, and they laid the
poor fellow under the power of an anodyne upon the cold marble slab, and
with scalpels scarified him horribly, as some women only can do. "Did
you ever! Did you ever!" came a refrain from puckered lips.
"Who would have believed it!" exclaimed Miss Jerusha Timpkins, as she
rolled up her dancing eyes and clasped her bony hands as if in
expostulation.
"The idea! The idea!" ejaculated Miss Narcissa Scoggins.
"That man going to marry!" they all exclaimed in chorus. "My, my, my!"
"And pray who told you so?" asked Miss Jemima Livesay with a biting
expression.
"Why, where have you been, Jemima, all these months, you ain't heard it?
It is the town talk. Why, Amarylla Hedgepeth she heard it straight from
the knitting society. Squire Jiggetts told old Deacon Bobbett that the
judge had spoken to him to marry him to the beautiful Alice Seymour, and
Deacon Bobbett told his wife, and Mrs. Bobbett told Sarah Marlow, and
Sarah Marlow told Polly Ann Midgett, and Polly Ann ups and tells Martha
Gallop, and that's how the news gets to us strait."
"Well sir!" exclaimed Miss Serepta Hightower, forgetting she was
speaking to old maids who had a loathing for any expression that
suggested a man or the name or the memory of a man, except the man they
were prodding and scarifying. "I wouldn't believe it if the news came
pine blank from the clouds; that I wouldn't!" and she gave emphasis to
the utterance by the malicious and vehement stroking of one skinny fist
against the other.
"Why, that man?" she exclaimed with horror, "Why, he would forget his
marriage vows before he ever made them. Why when he led Malindy
Hartsease a blushing bride to the altar thirty years ago; why, don't you
all remember that he sauntered out of the church by his lone lorn self,
and the preacher had to go to his house in the dead of night in the
rain and tell him that he had left his bride in the church crying her
very eyeballs out?"
"The monster! the monster!" all exclaimed and skinny hands and skinny
arms and skinny necks were tossing and swaying automatically.
"Of course I warnt there myself (nor I either, came interruptions from
all the spinsters) but I heard my mother, poor soul, say that she was
right there and that she never felt so sorry for a poor human being in
all her life as she did for poor Malindy; but she has gone to her rest
now, thank the Lord!" and a dozen handkerchiefs instantly gravitated
toward a dozen hysterical faces.
"I pity any poor soul that ties herself to such a man as that from the
bottom of my heart," said Miss Anastasia Perkins in great sympathy. "Why
she won't know whether she is married or not, neither will he; just as
likely as not he will go courting somebody else with his poor wife a
sitting back in the chimney corner in the ashes."
"And there is another pint I haint ever said anything about, but I think
it ought to be known here betwixt ourselves and not to go any further"
said, Miss Martha Gallop "but the way he treated his poor wife Malindy
was a purified scandal. Now I aint a telling you this as coming from me,
for the good Lord knows when that thing happened, I was a little teensy
weensy tot, (with a coquettish toss of her antique head) but old aunt
Mehetibel Parsley knows all about it, and I've heard her say over and
over again that when Judge Bonham and Malindy would be riding in their
carriage to meeting that he would forget where he was going and would
fetch up right against the poor house three miles or more in the other
direction, and that poor mournful woman would be a sitting back in the
carriage with eyes as red as a gander's, and a looking pine plank like
she was coming from a funeral."
"Oh the cruel, cruel monster!" came another refrain, and skinny fists
would double up and strike against ancient knees like resounding boards,
and the spinsters would all heave great, tumultuous sighs, and corkscrew
curls, like spiral springs, would dance up and down mechanically upon
their well oiled pivots.
Judge Bonham was quite nervously gravitating toward a situation that
required great force of character; a situation always extra hazardous
and demanding the exercise of every resource.
This phlegmatic man was running the biblical parallel, dreaming dreams
and seeing visions; not the distorted creations of the night-mare, but
beautiful little crayons of love, swinging like tiny acrobats from blue
ribbons on the walls, and descending like vagrant sunbeams upon the
vermillion carpet; composite faces, too, with bright golden hair and
brighter blue eyes.
The old gentleman sat back in his easy chair, thinking of the
captivating beauty over at Ingleside, and there were ecstatic little
chimes ringing in his ears, and their chorus always was this,
"I don't care what the gossips say,
I shall marry some fair day."
"But am I really in love?" asked he. It was a perplexing question to a
mind unusually acute and active in the powers of analysis and synthesis;
to a mind that could grasp, multiply and divide remainders, particular
estates and reversions in all their infiniteness. And the old man began
to ponder seriously upon the situation.
Something quite unusual and quite unnatural was tinkering upon the
frayed out heart strings of the old judge, until the learned man quite
bewildered found himself addressing his reflected image in the mirror.
"Quite handsome, upon my honor, Mr. Livy Bonham," he exclaimed, "and she
will say so, too, when she sees her beautiful image in my soft blue
eyes; for they will speak to her in love and she will understand."
He turned from the mirror singing sweetly,
"And bright blue was her ee,
And for bonnie Annie Laurie
I'll lay me doon and dee."
As he passed out of the door with his brand new beaver hat canted to the
right side of his head and twirling his gold-headed cane in his hand, he
said to his old cook,
"Remember, Harriet, to come to me when I return, as I shall have orders
for a general cleaning of the house by and by, and tell Lije to put the
carriage in apple-pie order."
"I wonder what mars judge do mean?" asked the simple negro as she turned
away, "Hit pears lak his mind is a purified a wonderin; noboddy haint
rid in dat kerrige since ole missis died, und it do seem lak a skandle
to rub ole missis' tracks out dis late day. Ef Mars Livy is agwine to
get married he orter dun und dun it soon arter old missis died, den dere
wudn't ben no skandle in de lan lak dere is agwine to be now. Folkses
high und low is ergwine to look skornful, wid dere fingers pinted at de
gal, und ax deyselves how cum she jined herself to ole marser, wid wun
foot in de grave, jes to suck sorrer arter he is dun und gon."
The man of fifty-five years was met at the door of Ingleside by the
faithful old butler, who bowed almost to the floor as he greeted the
judge, who, placing his hat into Ned's hands asked suspiciously if his
young mistress were at home?
"Deed she is, mars jedge," exclaimed Ned obsequiously.
"Miss Alice is always at home to er yung gemman lak you is sar. Und she
is diked monstrous, mars jedge, in lilacks und princess fedders und
jonquils, jes lak she cum outen de observatory, und she is speckin
cumpany dis werry minit, und I spek yu knose who dat is sar," said the
old negro as he dropped his voice almost to a whisper, laughing and
smirking the while.
"Angelic creature!" exclaimed the old man aside, as he began to feel a
creepiness up and down his back like great caterpillars upon the march.
"What infinite comprehension!" he exclaimed again as he seemed to jerk
spasmodically; "What an affectionate appreciation! Doubtless expecting
me as if my arrival had been telegraphed from Burnbrae."
"Mars jedge," asked Ned "dus you ame dis wisit for yung missis or ole
marser?"
"Undoubtedly, Ned, this visit is for your mistress," said the judge as
he rubbed his hands with energy. "When my plans are arranged I will
interview your marster--perhaps in the very near future."
"Eggzackly, yung marser," replied Ned as he twirled the judge's new
beaver in his hand. "Mout I mak jes wun kurreckshun, sar, fore yu gits
too fur?" asked Ned.
"Why, certainly; what is it Ned?"
The old negro placed his hands to his lips as if to keep back the sound
of his own voice and asked in a whisper, while a smile played around the
corners of his mouth, "Is you sho yus all rite, boss?"
"Why certainly," the judge replied with a degree of impatience "Do you
suppose I have come out of the low grounds?"
"Lans saks, yung marser, dis ole nigger don't ames to inturrup a gemman
of your sability. But boss yu dun und flung yo oberkote on de rack, duz
yu ame to go into the parlor whar yung missis is wid all her
hallibooloos ur dout ary weskote ur koller udder?" and the old negro
turned away his head and tittered, while the judge with the
embarrassment of a suspected felon was looking and feeling for the
missing garments; and he turned his ashen face with a hard grimace to
the old negro as if he had been the cause of this particular act of
absent-mindedness and said angrily.
"Ned if you ever mention this matter to man or beast your life shall pay
the forfeit."
"Deed I won't, mars jedge, dat I won't, kase dat mout fling de fat in de
farr."
"What shall I do, Ned?" asked the judge confidentially.
"Hit pears lak dat de onliess fing yu can do now is to slip outen dis do
rite easy fore ole Jube sees yu und wait out in de piazzy twell I fetch
wun of mars Jon's weskotes und collars, und den yu kin march in sar as
biggerty as when yu was de jedge in de kote."
"No, I will go back home; and shall I come again Ned?"
"Sartainly mars jedge, sartainly sar," said Ned, bowing and scraping.
"Ef you seed all dat finery Miss Alice has got strowed around her neck
und all dem white und pink und yellow jonquills und sweetbetsies und
snowballs und princess fedders on top of her bed, und all dun und dun
for yu mars jedge, dere wudn't be but seben tater ridges twixt dis grate
house und yourn; yu'd be pearter dan any rabbit in de mashes agwine und
a cummin."
The foolish widower passed out of the door and out of the gate singing
to himself,
"Her brow is like the snowdrift,
Her throat is like the swan."
His feelings toward the peerless beauty were stoutly reinforced by the
observation of the negro "und all dun und dun for yu mars jedge."
Clarissa ever and always upon the lookout in these suspicious times,
hearing only snatches of the conversation in the hall between the judge
and her husband called out imperiously,
"Ned cum to de do er minit," Ned in his slouchy way, giggling like an
idiot, advanced toward Clarissa.
"Whot ailed dat white man in dem fine cloes und stove-pipe hat agwine
outen de gate?" and Ned only giggled the more.
"Don't yu heer me axing you Ned?" stormed Clarissa.
Ned still giggling with both hands to his black mouth replied
distrustfully.
"I gin mars jedge my solum wurd dat I wudn't woice dat diffikilt twixt
me und him to man nur cattle beastis nudder."
"Woice what diffikilt Ned?" asked Clarissa in her provoking way. "You
knows I haint no man nur cattle beastis nudder; whot maks yu so
tantilizin? Ef you haint agwine to tell me I'm agwine rite strate to
Miss Alice; I knows she will mak yu tell her." Ned buried his face in
both hands and then peeping through his fingers sheepishly observed,
"Now Clarsy you knows you is monstrous handy noratin ebery blessed fing
you heers to tuther fokses; now ef I ups und tells yu, und it gits to
mars jedge's ears, whose agwine to stand twixt me und him? Tell me dat."
"I'm agwine to stan betwixt yu und de jedge, dats who," replied Clarissa
consequentially.
"Oh Lordy! Yu ergwine to stan twixt me und him," interrogated old Ned
contemptuously "Jes as well have ole Jube er stanin twixt me und de
jedge ebery bit und grane."
Clarissa thought for a moment and replied with infinite satisfaction.
"Miss Alice is ergwine ter stan twixt yu und de jedge, dats who."
"Dat mout do," said Ned, "und ef de jedge axes me about it I'm agwine to
send him rite strate to Miss Alice, und let dem two fite it out twixt
dey selves," and Ned with great circumstantiality placed Clarissa in
possession of the facts in the case.
"Fo de King!" exclaimed Clarissa after Ned had concluded. "I'm ergwine
rite strate und tell Miss Alice."
"Und den dars is gwine to be a rumpus in dis grate house," said Ned with
disgust as Clarissa shuffled down the hall to her young mistress's
chamber.
Nothing baffled by his misadventure, and realizing that faint heart
ne'er won fair lady, the judge reappeared at the hall door of Ingleside
with his beaver hat canted on the other side of his head, and rang the
door bell quite tentatively, as he felt that Ned would watch for his
coming, and would admit him without knocking.
"Now Ned," the judge remarked, as he passed his beaver to the old negro,
"examine me from head to foot and tell me if I'm all right." Ned did as
he was commanded in great detail of inspection and observed,
"Yes sar, dat yu is, mars jedge, I neber seed such a portly yung man in
all my days sar. Pend upon it boss, Miss Alice is ergwine to bite at the
hook fore yu flings out de bate. Ef I mout tell yu de truf you looks lak
yu was a stepping into de marrage sallymony dis werry minit und I don't
speck nofin else but dem yallow und white snowballs und sweet betsies
is ergwine to drap rite down und perish on yung misses hed when yu put
your little foot in dat dar parlor;" and the vain old man now fully
reassured, followed the old butler into the parlor, the latter remarking
in a highly patronizing way.
"Now, mars jedge, I'm ergwine to set yu down in de bridegroom's cheer,
kase I knows hit is ergwine to be yourn fore dis yeer is dun und gon,
und den I'm ergwine to be yourn too," he laughingly continued. "Kase I
belongs to yung missis und yung missis belongs to de jedge. Ha, ha, ha!"
After Ned had retired to the hall the vain old man, after looking all
around him, stealthily arose from his seat and surveyed his person in an
elaborate mirror over the mantle piece, arranging his hair, beard, and
eyebrows in every detail of evenness and position, and was thus
assaulted by the bewitching beauty of Ingleside without a picket or
skirmish line, and with his back to the conqueror of hearts. The dilemma
was excessively embarrassing and as he turned to speak to the queenly
beauty he began to stammer and quite unconsciously to make apologies.
"I called this morning, madam," he began, "er, er, er, to inquire after
the health of your father. You don't know er, er, er, how solicitous I
have been about him of late. How is he this morning?"
"He is very much better, I thank you, sir," replied Alice with an effort
at self control, "and if you will excuse me I will inform him that you
are here."
"I beg you will er, er, er"--stammered the judge with an uncontrollable
energy.
"Oh, I am sure it will do him so much good to see you," interrupted
Alice, as she gracefully bowed herself out of the room, leaving the
bewildered lover to destroy with huge battering rams the beautiful
castle which his ardent fancy and old Ned's sycophancy had erected.
"In olden times," soliloquized the judge, as he brought his clenched
hand with force upon his knee, "kings alone had their fools; and here I
am playing the miserable fool in the presence of an unsophisticated
maid. Father indeed! Why did I ask about her father, blasted idiot that
I am?"
The old judge was still scourging himself with the thongs of emphatic
rebuke, when to his surprise another judge entered the parlor with the
beautiful Alice upon his arm.
Colonel Seymour and the two judges had met before in the court room, and
were now enjoying themselves in an old-fashioned way in the elaborate
parlor of the old mansion.
Judge Bonham was very delicate and refined in his compliments of his
friend Judge Livingstone, who in the niceties of the law "could divide a
hair 'twixt the north and north-west side." He was the judge who had
extracted the poison sacs from the fangs of reconstruction; the judge
who had stampeded the vile and vicious hordes that thronged and polluted
the temple of justice. As Judge Bonham looked at the man, he felt that
the entreaty of the South had been answered by the Power that rules in
heaven and earth.
"God give us men; a time like this demands
Great minds, strong hearts, true faith and willing hands;
Men whom the lust of office cannot buy,
Men who have honor and will not lie."
These gentlemen had scarcely begun to sap the foundations of the
superstructure of reconstruction, when dinner was announced by the
beautiful hostess, who stood in the door, as judge Bonham declared,
encircled in a cincture of angelic grace. It was a bountiful meal; there
were cheer and laughter and polite jest at the board, and as these
distinguished gentlemen were bowing themselves out of the dining room,
Judge Bonham was observed by Clarissa to take a napkin ring from his
plate and put it in his pocket; with rolled up eyes and wide open mouth,
Clarissa looked like a black idol in a Chinese temple. The guests again
assembled in the library and Alice busied herself in arranging the table
for tea.
"What sorter man is dat tother jedge Miss Alice?" asked Clarissa in an
authoritative kind of a way. "I don't mean dat shiny-eyed jedge, but dat
man dat has got dem grate big warts on his nose. Ef dat ar jedge cum to
dis grate house many mo times ole missis silver is agwine to be all
gone. She tole me to look arter her plunder. I don't ame to sass dat ar
jedge Miss Alice, but de fust time I ketches him to hissef I'm ergwine
to ax him please turn dem dere pockets rong side outtards und lemme see
what he has got stowed erway in dere. Dem kote skeerts haint er bulgin
out datterway fur nuffin. Twixt dat secesh man und de scalyhorgs, wun is
jamby ez big er fellum ez de tuther; he ergwine erbout punishin tuther
fokses for gwine rong, und he, yu mout say, is er conwick hissef. I
nebber seed wot yu mout call a high quality white pusson steal yo fings
rite fore yo eyes in de broad open daylight lak dat."
"You must not talk that way about Judge Bonham, Clarissa," rejoined
Alice with irritation. "I am ashamed of you! What would father say if he
were to hear you accuse his guest of stealing!" Alice continued
rebukingly.
"Well, Miss Alice," said Clarissa apologetically, "It mout be dat I
spoke too brash; seems lak do ef he was a sho nuff jedge he orter have
mo manners dan agwine erbout shoolikin und pilferin lak dat; speks ef
dat white man was sarched yu mout find udder wallybles belonging to dis
grate house in his hine pockets dis werry minit; yu dun und heerd me say
dem dar kote skeerts aint a bulging out dat dar way fur nuffin."
Clarissa with malice prepense was arraigning the judge upon a cruel
indictment, a prejudiced prosecution and a predetermined verdict
evidently. There was but one plea that could avail the judge if Clarissa
were polled as the jury, and that would require the immediate
restitution of the stolen property, and an unconditional withdrawal from
old marser's great house; or to punctuate the verdict in Clarissa's
emphatic way,
"Don't yu never set yo foot in dis heer grate house no mo, epseps yu
want ole Jube to wour yu up with wun moufful, ef dem is all de manners
yu got."
"Permit me to ask you sir," observed Judge Bonham to Judge Livingstone,
"if the conditions prevailing in the South are not entirely unlike those
that obtain in the North?"
"Yes, indeed," replied Judge Livingstone. "It would be difficult to
realize that we live under the same Federal government. Society in this
country seems to be thoroughly disorganized. I can imagine that some
great upheaval of nature has widely separated the South from the North."
"I presume," said Judge Bonham, "that you have seen southern character
in all of its transformations in your courts?"
"Yes sir, and very frequently in its most abhorrent and disgusting
forms. There is such a variety of indictable frauds and many of them
growing out of the rudimentary education of the negroes, that this fact,
in my opinion, is the most cogent argument against their education."
"I am very decidedly of that opinion," replied Judge Bonham with
emphasis. "I believe if it were not for the criminal class of young
negroes there would be very few indictments in the courts; but as the
matter stands they are congested to that extent that our jails are
always over crowded and so are our dockets."
"Do you know, sir," replied Judge Livingstone, "that there is a side to
this ever-shifting panorama that challenges my profoundest sympathy? To
give you an illustration: A few days ago, in this county of F., I saw in
the dock a decayed old negro, who staggered into the bar from sheer
exhaustion. He was dying piece-meal from starvation. He was indicted for
the larceny of a peck of sweet potatoes. The prosecuting witness was a
white man of about forty years of age, and was what is provincially
known as a scalawag. I do not exaggerate very grossly when I say that a
blacksmith would have hammered a plowshare out of his hard face. The old
negro was convicted; he had no substantial defence. I said to him, 'I
want you to tell me why you took the potatoes.' The poor old negro
leaned heavily with both hands upon his staff, his unshorn white locks
giving him the appearance of a 'sheik of the desert,' and raising his
harrowed face, that was wet with tears, tremblingly addressed the court
as he grasped the railing for support, 'Mars Jedge, I hab neber nied dis
scusashun, und I tole de boss man ef he wudn't sen me to de jail I wud
wurk hit out ef hit tuck seben yurs. I libs erway ober yander cross de
mash. Dar is my ole marser a settin dar. He noes I'm er tellin yu de
naked truf, und God in hebben noes I wudn't tell yu nary lie. Dar is
foteen moufs in my fambly er cryin fer wittles ebery day de good Lawd
sends; und Malindy, dat's my dorter, haint struck a lick o' wurk fur mo
dan er hole yur; und dar's my growed-up son, dat's Joe, he got drounded
in de crick nigh unto er month ago; und dar's my po wife, dat's Mimy,
she tuck sick und died when she heerd dat Joe had drounded hissef, und
nobody in de wurrel ter git ary moufful o' wittles epsep me; und I was
so hongry, und de chillun wuz er cryin twell I wuz moest stracted; und I
had a grate big bone fellyun on dis heer han'--dar tis, rite dar--so I
cudn't wurk, und I went to de boss man, standin rite dar fo yo eyes, und
axed him fer two er free little stringy taters; und he cussed me und
driv me er way, und called me er ole free issu dimmycrat nigger; und my
ole marser libed so fur erway I cudn't git nary wurd to him; und den, ez
I wuz ergwine outen de plantashun, I seed two er free little stringy
taters, mout be fo taters, er lyin on de tip eend o' de ridge in de
brilin sun arter de taters had bin dug outen de patch, und I didn't fink
it wuz no harm to nobody, und I tuck um und toted um home in my pocket
ter de po little parishin yunguns, und--'
"Here the old negro broke down and cried as if his heart would break,
and then wiping his eyes with his ragged coat sleeve, he continued,
"Und den dey tuck me und put me in de jale; und I axed de high shurriff
ter please git wurd ter ole marser whar I wuz karserated, und he neber
sont no wurd ter ole marser. Marser Jedge, I'm ergwine on eighty-free
yurs ole, und ef I libs ter see nex Juvember, ef I don't make no mistake
I'll be gwine in er hundred. I aint neber been kotched in no scrapes
befo in my born days, has I ole marser?' Then turning to a white-haired
man on the jury, 'Nary body, white er cullud, hab eber crooked de finger
at enyfing I eber dun rong, und I'm too ole und crazyfied to be sont to
de penitenshury, und fur de Lawd's sake, Mars Jedge, please don't sen me
dar, ef yu duz my po little yunguns will parish ter def, und I axes all
yu white gemmen on dat jurrer ter pray fur me, und de jedge too.'
"The court and jury were in tears when this eloquent plea was
concluded, and the poor old negro, shaking from head to foot, sank back
into his seat, bowed his white head upon his staff and covered his black
face with his old hat. There was a painful pause in the court room;
handkerchiefs were freely displayed here and there, and ominous sounds,
as if there was weeping, was heard in the great press of people."
"What is your name?" asked the judge, addressing the white-haired juror
in the box to whom the old negro had appealed as his master.
"Grissom," modestly replied the man.
"Do you know the character of this old negro?" asked the judge.
"Very good, very good sir," the juror excitedly repeated, "trustworthy
and truthful under all circumstances sir."
After a moment's reflection the judge said to the old negro, "Stand up
old man." The negro reeling from weakness raised his bowed, palsied
frame, and repeated after the judge the formula used in recognizances as
follows substantially.
"I duz hereby nowledg dat I is debted to de State of Norf Caliny in de
sum ob ten millun dollars to be leveled pun my goods und cattle, lans
turnements und harry dettyments to be woid on kondishun dat I maks my
pussonel pearance fo de jedge of dis kote next Christmas und bide by de
jedgement of dis kote."
"Now old negro," said the judge sympathetically, "You can go home."
"Tank yer mars jedge," he exclaimed as he advanced to grasp the judge's
hand.
"May the good Lord in heaben allus be rite by your side when yu gibs
jedgement." Taking up his old hat he bowed to the gentlemen of the jury
with the observation,
"May nun of you white gemman ever git kotched in such a scrape as dis,
epseps yu has dis heer jedge to stand twixt yu und de gallus." He turned
again to the judge with a smile that played like sheet lightning over
his haggard face and inquired humbly.
"Mars Jedge, duz yu specks me to pay dat passel of munny to de state nex
Krismas too?"
At the conclusion of this narrative our mutual friend Judge Bonham arose
to take his leave, remarking as he did so "that his visit should be long
remembered, that his distinguished friends were so agreeable;" and
grasping the hand of the judge he congratulated him and the country that
"a Daniel had come to judgment." When the absent-minded gentleman
arrived home, his servant Lije discovered that the judge's head down to
his ears was immersed in a light derby hat, and he ventured to ask,
"Mars Jedge, what you agwine to do wid dat dar hat? To be sho you didn't
swop your brand new slick beaver off for dat dar camp kittle?"
The judge in his chagrin saw that he had carried away Judge
Livingstone's derby hat and had left his beaver in its place. And he
said sharply to Lije,
"Go through all of my pockets and see if I have stolen any of the
property of Colonel Seymour. I dare not trust myself to visit a neighbor
that I am not liable to be sent to the penitentiary." The negro Lije
exploiting all suspected places exhibited to the judge a table ring and
napkin, that by some inexplicable means had been transferred to his
pocket.
"Gracious heavens!" the humiliated man exclaimed, "Larceny both grand
and petit by the eternal! Felony without benefit of clergy! Return those
stolen articles at once, you black scamp, where they belong, and present
my compliments to Colonel Seymour, and tell him they got into the
possession of Judge Bonham without his knowledge and against his consent
and bring back my beaver and cane. Stop! stop!" he exclaimed excitedly,
"What is this?" drawing from his vest pocket a small miniature of Alice
that he had seen upon the parlor mantel. "Great Jerusalem!" he fairly
shrieked, "condemned beyond the hope of pardon."