A NOVEL BRIDAL TOUR
The next morning the young couple, accompanied by Susan Rogers, with
Rache in the capacity of serving-woman, set out on their bridal tour, a
three-mile ride over the snow, to their future home. A stout sledge
drawn by a yoke of oxen was the primitive equipage of the bridal party.
The wedding presents, though the gifts of but one family, were many and
useful, if not beautiful and costly. A feather bed and a pair of fat
pillows were Mrs. Rogers' most valuable gift. "No, Betsy," she said as
she tied them up in an old quilt, "we hain't robbin' ourse'ves; we've
got more beds an' pillahs then we hev people to sleep on 'em; besides,
hain't we got plenty geese?"
"Nevah you mind, Betsy," chuckled Mason Rogers; "Cynthy Ann knows
better'n you do whut she kin spar' tow'ds settin' you an' Ab up to
housekeepin'. The real offus uv a bride is to be ornamental. So, all
you got to do this mawnin' is to set up on thet ther sled, an' look
purty."
A coarse but well-bleached tablecloth, a gourd of lard, a cheese, half
a loaf of cake, a skillet and a coffee boiler completed Mrs. Rogers'
list.
The gifts of her husband were no less generous: a side of meat, a
supply of meal, potatoes, hominy, sugar, a jug of cider vinegar, and
another of molasses, concerning which gifts he declared, in answer to
Abner's protest: "Of course, you'n' Betty kin live on love; so I jes'
put in them eatables fur Susan--pore gal, she ain't got no husban' yit
to mek her fergit she's got a stommick. Besides, even you an' yer bride
will find livin' on love a weak'nin' exper'ence artah the fust few
days; an' this snow looks lak it hed come to stay all wintah. The roads
'tween heah an' Bourbonton won't be broke through 'nough fur you to
haul a load o' things frum thar befoh March, mayby. Allus feed yer
husban' good, Betty. With all the men whut evah I seen, the stommick
'pears to be the seat o' the affections; an' Abner hain't no exception.
He kin mek an ash cake or a hunk o' middlin' disappear 'bout ez fast ez
the nex' one; an' when it comes to tacklin' a stack o' flitters
seasoned with maple merlasses, he kin beat all creation, unless 'tis
Tommy an' Buddy, an' the amount o' vittels them two shavers kin manidge
to stow 'way is 'nough to mek a pusson think ther laigs is holler.
These two cheers," he continued as he tied them in place on the sledge,
"air fur me an' Cynthy Ann to set on when we come ovah nex' Sunday to
pay our bridal call an' to fotch Cissy an' Rache home. Abner hain't got
but two cheers, Betty--one fur Susan, an' one fur you an' him; but me
an' Cynthy Ann's done got pas' the time when one cheer kin 'commerdate
us both comf'table. Whut you got thar?" he asked the negro Tom, as he
came forward, while Rube lingered bashfully in the background.
"Me an' Rube wants tab gib somethin' ter spress our 'gratulatins ter
Miss Betsy an' Marse Ab; so we presents dese ax-handles whut we'se made
oursel's, an' dis bowl whut we'se hollered outen a ash-tree fur a nice
bread-tray; an' we wishes you bofe much joy in de road you'se dis day
sotten out on in double harnish." Grinning and bobbing, he presented
the offerings, and then stepped back to make room for Uncle Tony.
"Marse Ab, you'll 'cep' dis bunch o' brooms f'um ole Tony; kaze he wuz
yer fus' 'quaintunce when you come ter dis kintry. Dese brooms will
'min' you ob yer ole home; kaze dey's tied wid de same twist an' loop
jes' ez dey mek brooms wid in ole Virginny. An' I wishes you 'n' yer
purty bride all de hap'ness an' prosp'ity whut kin come ter us pore
morsels trablin' frew dis vale ob tears."
"Well, Ab," said Mason, gleefully, as Abner, after gratefully thanking
the darkeys, proceeded to find a place for the things on the
well-loaded sled, "you'd bettah walk straight now; a broom's a
dangerous weepon in a woman's hands. You know the ole sayin' 'bout
brooms, Betsy? 'In fair weathah use one eend; in foul weathah use
t'other!'"
Susan's contributions were a pair of blankets and a supply of tow-linen
sheeting and toweling, all of her own weaving. The twins, not to be
outdone, begged Betsy to accept all their nine-patch pieces, "which
only lack a few more squares," they said, "to mek a quilt big 'nough
fur any bed."
"Tek 'em, Betty," laughingly urged Mrs. Rogers; "Lucindy an' Lucy air
only too glad ter git 'em off ther hands; they know they'd hev ter
finish thet quilt this wintah, ef them pieces stayed heah, an' they
hate sewin' wussen a mad dog hates watah."
"We want you to have these, too," said Lucy, handing to Betsy a pair of
plaster-of-paris angels. "Lucindy an' me bought 'em of the packman with
our own money. They'll look mighty sweet settin' up on your
mantel-tree. One of 'em's got its wing broke off, but thet won't show
much when it's set facin' the room."
"Ha! ha! ha!" laughed Rogers. "The twins presents you with angels, an'
Tommy an' Buddy contributes live stock." The two little boys advanced,
Tommy with a curly black pup under his arm, Buddy with two half-grown
kittens in his apron.
"Yes, yes, tek 'em," urged Mrs. Rogers; "you'll do me a favor to tek
thet mis-che-vous pup, an' will save them kittens frum a grave in the
hoss-pond; I've done said I'd drown the whole litter. Heah's a sack fur
the kittens, an' you kin put the pup undah this heah kittle; 'twon't
smothah undah thar; an' 'twon't mek no diffruns ef it does."
Every negro on the place, elated and excited by the romantic event of a
runaway marriage, brought offerings. Rache gave gourds and a cymbling
bowl; Eph, a string of red-pepper; the other little darkeys, gifts of
maple sugar, walnuts and hickorynuts; while Aunt Dink presented a large
blue-flowered platter which until now had been the chief ornament of
the chest of drawers in her cabin, and was none the less precious to
her because of the big crack through the middle and the nick out of one
corner.
"The coach and four is now waiting with the bride's outfit already
packed in the boot; so bride, bridesmaid and waiting-woman will please
take their places," laughed Abner, happily, helping Betsy, Susan and
Rache into the sledge. "You've loaded us so heavily with your generous
gifts that I fear the bridal equipage will break down before reaching
the end of the first stage, and bury bride, bridesmaid, waiting-woman
and dowry in a snowbank."
At this moment, out came little Buddy again, carrying a tiny arm-chair
which he had long since outgrown, and insisting that it should make
part of the bridal outfit on the sledge.
"That's right, sonny," said Rogers, as he placed the chair. "They don't
need it yit awhile, but 'tis likely it'll come in handy in a year or
so. Hold on thar a minit," Rogers exclaimed, as Logan was hastily
preparing to start off. Rushing into the house, he emerged in a few
minutes, carrying a pine cradle with deep, sloping sides and broad,
rough rockers. "Heah's a companion piece fur thet cheer. Hope you'll
hev use fur it befoh we do ag'in," and nothing would do but that the
cradle should be placed on the sled. "Ha! ha! ha!" Rogers laughed
uproariously as he surveyed the outfit. "This turnout looks lak a
emigrant wagon mekin' a journey frum Cumberlan' Gap to the
settlements."
Good-by's were exchanged, and the train started. The bride with her two
attendants sat bravely on the sledge surrounded by her household goods,
while the groom stepped proudly on to guide his awkward team, his own
faithful dog, Toby, following at his heels. His house was not on the
main thoroughfare, and the shrubs and tangled vines, weighted down with
snow, bent over the narrow, little-used roadway, making it in places
almost impassable; but the cavalcade proceeded safely, if slowly, until
about half the journey was accomplished. Then, as they were going down
a steep hillside with a considerable slant to the left, the groom came
back from his post at the head of the team, to the side of his bride.
Susan was looking out across the landscape; Rache was engrossed with
her efforts to keep the various small articles from falling off the
sledge. The moment seemed propitious; he leaned over to give Betty a
reassuring kiss and embrace. Just then the vehicle ran over a stump
which was hidden, but not protected, by the snow, and it careened
sharply to the left. Abner, on the right, instantly threw his weight to
stay the tottering ark. This only added the proper impetus, with, as
the result, a complete overturn.
[Illustration: _Out tumbled bride, bridesmaid and servant in the
snow._]
Out tumbled bride, bridesmaid and servant in the snow, with feather
bed, chairs, table utensils, skillet, kettle, coffee boiler, buckets,
brooms, provisions on top. The two kittens, escaping from their sack,
and frightened out of at least four of their eighteen lives, scampered
madly up the nearest tree, in which house of refuge they sat with
arching backs and bristling tails, spitting and hissing. The pup,
liberated from his kettle, and confident that Toby was somehow to blame
for this melee, charged rashly at him. Toby, resenting this
insinuation, met the curly pup with gaping jaws and bristling back. A
terrific dog-fight ensued, in which the self-confident puppy was routed
with great damage. During the excitement, it fortunately never occurred
to the mild-eyed oxen to make a bolt with the sledge; on the contrary,
they stood still in their tracks the whole time, gazing with placid
indifference straight before them. No one was hurt, and the wintry
woods rang with the merry laughter of the party as they righted the
sledge, collected the scattered wedding outfit, and replaced it
securely. The vanquished puppy was again confined in his iron dungeon.
The kittens, after much coaxing, at last ventured upon a limb low
enough for them to be reached by Abner's long arm; and the bridal car
then proceeded, without further hurt or damage, to the future home.
Betsy, though the child of rich parents, was used to work and to
household management; but here was housekeeping to be begun under an
environment quite different from that to which she had been accustomed
in her father's well-ordered house. It was a heavy draft upon the young
bride's faith and love to gaze undaunted at the prospect before her;
but she was of a brave and hopeful spirit, and soon her blithe laugh
chimed in with that of Abner and Susan, as they talked over the
ludicrous mishap on the wedding tour. Presently, however, as Abner
looked around the uninviting interior of his future abode, and then
glanced at his young bride, he was sobered.
"An empty hovel with unwhitewashed walls, stoneless hearth, and
dirt-encrusted windows and floors, is certainly no fit welcome for you,
my dearest," he said to her as they stood alone a moment, while Susan
and Rache were taking a survey of the inner room. "Do you regret the
step you have taken?"
"Regret? Not for one instant," she bravely answered. "'Better a dinner
of herbs where love is, than a stalled ox and hatred therewith'--and
how dare you slander my new abode by calling it a hovel?" she added
playfully. "Instead of belittling this commodious mansion, set to work
at once, sir, and build us a fire."
In a short time Logan had collected fuel. His flint yielded the ready
spark, and fagots and logs soon blazed cheerily in the wide fireplace
in each room.
"That big kettle which pa insisted upon our bringing, does come in
handy right at the start," exclaimed Susan. "We'll have it filled and
hung on that crane, so that Rache can scrub the floors; and while the
water is heating, let's get something to eat. I'm as hungry as any bear
that ever prowled through these woods."
"I'll lay the hearthstones, whitewash the walls, and put up some
shelves over in that corner to-morrow," said Abner.
"When that is done, the windows cleaned and curtained, and the things
all arranged, it will be quite a cozy place," added Susan.
"Yes," assented Logan, "it will do, I suppose, until I can get to town
to buy whatever we need."
"Oh, it's good as it is, and we will soon make it a very inviting
home," interrupted Betty. "Don't worry because you haven't a stately
mansion for your bride. It's bad enough to have a wife thrust upon you
in this unceremonious style, without your impoverishing yourself to fit
up a luxurious home for her all at once."
The work went merrily forward during the next two days, although the
season was hardly propitious for housecleaning. Rache, who enjoyed it
all as much as any one, declared with a grin, "It's de fust time I evah
hearn uv folks doin' ther spring cleanin' when de snow am two foot
deep, an' it am so sinful cold thet it mighty nigh freezes de nose
offen yer face."
The floors, by dint of repeated scrubbings, were soon, as Rache
declared, "clean 'nough ter eat on." The walls and rafters were
whitened, and the windows curtained with snowy dimity. At the foot of
the bed, in one room, stood a packing-case to serve as a wardrobe, a
valance of calico tacked on its top, concealing the true nature of the
contrivance. Another box, set on end and similarly attired, served as a
dresser; still another as a washstand. This room was sitting-room,
parlor, library, and Susan's sleeping apartment. The other room was
dining-room and kitchen, where Rache was accommodated with a pallet
upon the floor in front of the fire; while, for the present, the rude
loft over the two rooms, reached by means of a ladder in the
sitting-room, was the bedchamber for bride and groom.
Consternation reigned at Oaklands when Betsy's flight was discovered
the morning after the elopement. Her father, after giving orders that
everything on the place which could be considered her personal property
should be packed and sent to her immediately, then assembled the entire
household, struck Betsy's name from the family Bible, and commanded
that no one in his presence should ever again mention her name, and
that no one on the premises should ever dare to hold any communication
with her. Later, that same day, he drove to Lexington, sought a lawyer,
and made a will disinheriting her.
Upon the third morning after the marriage there came to the new home a
sled driven by a negro man from Oaklands. On the sled was Marthy, a
negro woman of thirty-five; also a huge packing-case containing Betsy's
clothes, books and ornaments, some bed quilts which she had pieced
herself, some bright-colored rugs she had woven, besides china and a
set of silver spoons which had descended to her from her maternal
grandmother. Behind the sled rode Sambo on Betsy's saddle-horse,
driving a young cow which was also considered the girl's property. The
two negroes, Marthy and Sambo, had belonged to Mrs. Gilcrest, to do
with as she pleased, and she sent them as a gift to her daughter.