"I Thee Wed."
The golden month of September saw Viola much improved in health. Her
wound had healed nicely, thanks to her strong constitution and to the
care she had received from the physician and nurse. Now she was rapidly
convalescing, and as the fine autumn days went by she was able to ride
in her carriage, and even visit the mission school, though unable to
teach her class of girls.
By Christmas time the roses had indeed reappeared in her cheeks, and
her step was almost as elastic as ever. June found her fully restored
to health. This month was to be forever memorable to her, for her
wedding to Jasper Very was set for the eighteenth day.
The whole plantation was in a fever of excitement quite a while before
the event was to transpire. All was bustle and commotion. Every one
seemed to have a personal interest in the affair. The slaves talked and
sang about it as they worked in the fields, and renewed the gossip in
the evening around their cabin doors.
Aunt Nancy, the cook, attired in a dress spotlessly clean, a bright red
bandanna tied around her head, was more pompous and dictatorial than
ever. Her helpers had been increased for the event, and she issued her
commands with a force which would have done credit to a skipper on a
quarter-deck. Often she scolded those around her, but her anger was
more apparent than real, and while she smote right and left with one
hand, with the other soon after she patted and petted the object of her
wrath.
To her children: "You, Dick and Jim, git away frum under my feet. If
yo' little niggers don't cl'ar out frum dis room, ah'll beat yer wooly
heads togedder. How kin Ah see dat dis cake gits jest de right brown,
if yo' keep askin' me fer cookies an' things! Take dat--boxing their
ears--an' march out doors."
The boys ducked a second blow, and rushing into the yard, each turned a
somersault, and grinned the content he felt. Then they began to sing:
"O Miss Lu! sugar in 'er shoe,
Show me de hole whar de hog jump fru."
For days the preparations for the marriage feast went on. Such baking,
boiling, and every form of cooking, was never seen in "Mount Pisgah"
before.
Judge and Madam LeMonde had many things to occupy hand and brain, but
still they gave much thought to the time when they should be parted
from their only daughter. She and George were the idols of their
hearts. To lose one from the home even to gain a preacher-son was an
experience bringing pain and sorrow. Still their judgment confirmed
the step; for, if they were to have the sadness of separation, they
were to have the deep satisfaction of giving their daughter to a
greater service.
Miss Viola was busy most of the time preparing her trousseau. Many of
the garments were made to order in Lexington, but much fancy work on
delicate fabrics was done by the bride-to-be.
The great day dawned at last. A holiday had been given to all the
slaves on the plantation. The Judge decided to spare no expense in
making the occasion as pleasant as possible. He had instructed his
black people to have a barbecue at their quarters. Some of our readers
are benighted as to the meaning of that great word. How shall we
enlighten their ignorance? Words are insufficient to set forth the joy
and glory of this feast. We may try our best, but much must be left
unrecorded.
Two very long wooden tables were stretched on the ground behind the
slaves' cabins, under the splendid natural forest trees which Kentucky
boasted. The day before an ox was killed, and a deep pit dug in the
ground. Early on the eighteenth, the ox was suspended in this hole and
a great fire lighted under the carcass. There for hours the body
roasted in its own fat. Besides the ox, succulent roasting pigs were
cooked whole, chickens were prepared in various ways. All vegetables
common to the season were gotten ready in unlimited abundance. Bread
enough for all and much to spare appeared on the tables. Pies and cakes
of many kinds lay in beautiful companionship with the other good
things. Steaming coffee in abundance for all was on hand. And plenty of
"Adam's ale"--pure spring water.
This barbecue feast was to be eaten after the marriage ceremony was
performed.
The wedding feast for the white folks was spread on tables which had
been placed under the pine trees some distance east of the great
mansion. It was impossible to accommodate all the invited guests in the
dining-room of the house, and Viola decided to have the dinner served
in the open air under the trees. As to the quality and quantity of this
feast it is only necessary to say that Aunt Dinah and her satellites
had been preparing it for days, and the proud cook was intending to
stake her reputation as to ability on it for all time to come. The
result was worthy of the effort she had made.
On the morning of the eighteenth came the great event. Let us try to
picture the scene. It was to be an open air wedding. Viola had
requested that all the colored people be permitted to witness the
ceremony. There were hundreds of them, big and little, old and young.
They were disposed by Mose and others under the pine trees nearest to
the river.
Grouped nearer to the mansion were the members of the mission school,
many planters and their families, some guests from Lexington and other
places. Just by the pavement in front of the piazza a chair had been
provided for Madam LeMonde.
The principals in the ceremony were in a bedroom upstairs.
And now the strains of a wedding march floats out over the great
company, played by a pianist from Paducah.
With slow and measured step the wedding party descend the broad
stairway. We see Susanna Spink walking before. In her hand is a basket
of magnificent roses. These with leaves of others she strews in the way
before the approaching persons.
First come George LeMonde, best man, and Miss Stella Nebeker,
bridesmaid, with her arm linked in his. Then follow arm in arm Rev.
Jasper Very, bridegroom, and Rev. John Larkin, the officiating
minister. In the rear we behold the lovely bride, Miss Viola LeMonde,
beautifully dressed, leaning upon the arm of her father, Judge LeMonde.
Under the shadow of the pine trees, near the piazza, the wedding
company take position, and the ceremony begins.
The minister asks: "Who gives the bride away?" The Judge replies: "I
give the bride away," and he walks to the rear while the bride steps to
the side of the bridegroom. The ceremony, brief but most impressive, is
conducted according to the ritual of the church, and the minister
solemnly pronounces them husband and wife.
Presently the black people under the leadership of Mose and others go
to their quarters to enjoy the great barbecue feast. The white people
are invited to take seats around the loaded tables placed under the
pines trees. As we glance over the company we behold many kind friends
whom we have met in the course of this narrative. A large number from
the mission school were there, including the whole Spink family, and
some members of the Sneath and Wiles families. They were under the care
of Miss Henrietta Harvey, who was now their capable and devoted
superintendent.
Jolly Costello Nebeker and his good lady were present. He seemed to
thrive in every way by running his tavern on cold water principles. His
hearty, hilarious laugh was as contagious as the measles. Honest David
Hester and his folks were given seats near the head of the table. The
other planters were also well represented: Abner Hunt, the fiery little
man from down river, and Hans Schmidt, the large, fair-faced German,
with several others. Hiram Sanders, the herculean blacksmith of
Bridgewater, had a place at the table.
When the great feast was nearly over and ices were being served, Judge
LeMonde arose and thus spoke: "Dear friends, I do not wish to interrupt
the meal, neither do I wish to make a speech, only to say that Madam
LeMonde and myself count this one of the greatest days of our lives. It
surely has a tinge of sorrow in it but the joy far surpasses the
sadness. I am very glad indeed to behold you enjoying the felicities of
the occasion. There is a bit of the program to take place that nobody
on the grounds knows anything about except Mrs. LeMonde and myself. I
request at this time that my son George go to the slaves' gathering and
bring back with him my servant Mose."
Without a moment's hesitation George started to do the errand his
father asked. By the time the ices had disappeared the white man and
the black man came on to the lawn. A look of curiosity and wonder
passed over the company, and all gazed in the direction of the Judge
and his servant.
As to Mose he was much taken aback. He appeared confused and
bewildered. He thought it was not possible that his master would blame
him for neglecting some duty or doing a bad deed on such a day and
before such a company.
The Judge, calling his servant to come near, arose and said: "I have
decided on this memorable occasion to repay in some measure the
devotion and sacrifice of a very faithful and trustworthy servant. I
have found Mose honest, obedient, kind, and always willing to do his
part of the work. More than this he has risked his life to protect his
young mistress from falling into the hands of desperate outlaws.
Because of this heroic endeavor I have decided, Mose, to set you free.
I hold in my hand the paper properly made out, and from this hour you
are free to go where you will. But we do not want to lose you from the
plantation. If you stay, I will pay you suitable wages for your work. I
will also give you three acres of good land near the negroes' quarters
and will build a nice frame house upon it. I am sure my daughter Viola
will be glad to furnish the house as a reward for the service you
rendered her. In due time you can bring the young woman to whom you are
engaged to the house as your bride.
"What do you say, Mose, will you go or stay?"
The poor black man was almost too overcome with emotion to answer a
word. Tears streamed down his cheeks, and he could scarcely stand.
However, he managed to say: "Mas'r LeMonde, how kin Ah thank you fur
yo' kindness! Leave you an' dis plantation? Not while de sun shines in
de heavens. As Ah was willin' to die fer Miss Viola, I would any time
lay dow my life fer you, Judge, or ary one of de fambly."
"Well, you are a good boy, and," after handing him the paper, "now you
can go to your friends at the quarters."
When the curtain was rung down on this scene, in a metaphorically
sense, it rose on another of much interest.
The wedding party and guests were still sitting at the tables when
honest David Hester, arising to his feet, said: "I move that we all
drink a toast to our newly married friends, and that we drink it in
pure cold water. Also, that John Larkin speak to the toast in behalf of
the company." This motion was seconded by more than a dozen voices, the
glasses were filled from the living spring, and the toast was drunk in
the best liquid the world has ever seen.
John Larkin arose and said: "It gives me great pleasure to speak a few
words on this happy and auspicious occasion. First, I wish to thank
Judge and Madam LeMonde for the sumptuous repast they have provided for
all who are present. (Loud applause all down the line.) Next, I desire
to say some true words respecting our honored bridegroom. I have known
Jasper Very for several years, and have been his colleague most of the
time. I do not overstep the mark when I declare that he is the
greatest preacher in Kentucky today. (Cries of "That's so," and
applause.) He stands foursquare for righteousness seven days in the
week. He is a terror to evil doers. It is by such men's work and
sacrifices that we shall stamp out ruffianism, and lift our State to a
high respect for law and order. (Clapping of hands.) His career is yet
before him, and I believe his name will be handed down to coming
generations as an eloquent, zealous, fearless, and successful preacher
of the gospel. (Loud applause by the whole company.) My only ambition
is that I may be his traveling companion in the ministry as long as
possible, for he is to me an inspiration, a help, and, best of all, a
devoted friend. (Cheers by all.)
"What shall I say concerning the lady who this day becomes his wife? He
might have searched the State over, and not found so suitable a life
companion. She was the originator of the mission school, and its
prosperity is seen by the number of its members who are here today.
(Much hand clapping by the people from the hills.) Yes, and she would
not let the fear of highwaymen keep her from the straight path of duty.
By an outlaw's bullet, she was brought to the verge of death, but God
in mercy spared her in answer to our prayers. God surely intended her
to be a preacher's wife. He gave her a voice to sing which melts the
stony heart, he gave the opportunity for culture so that she can lift
up the minds as well as the morals of the people. Her graciousness is
surpassed only by her humility, and her beauty of face and form only by
the loveliness and perfection of her spirit. To high and low she is the
finest type of American womanhood." (Long continued applause,
especially by the hill crowd.)
The after-dinner speeches were ended, and the bride and groom retired
to their dressing-rooms in the mansion, where the wedding garments were
taken off and traveling suits substituted. Soon they appeared on the
front piazza, most of the invited guests still remaining on the lawn.
By a previous arrangement Mose was to be the honored driver of the
carriage, to take them to the railway station. Never was there a
prouder or happier negro. He showed the importance of his duty in every
turn of his body. He was dressed in a new suit of clothes, and a tall
silk hat ornamented his woolly head. He held his whip and lines like a
master of horse.
Some fond good-byes, a few tears like April showers with the sun
shining, a crack of the whip, and Velox and Prince are off on the happy
journey.
So we leave them as with
"Two souls with but a single thought,
Two hearts to beat as one,"
they set out on their life work.
"We have heard that our hero became a mighty preacher, whose praise was
in all the churches. His fields of labor widened with the years. His
reputation went before him, and he was known in many States as an
original and marvelous genius, but to us he will ever be remembered as
The Kentucky Ranger.
End of Project Gutenberg's The Kentucky Ranger, by Edward T. Curnick