The New Home.
When Mrs. Garie embarked, she entertained the idea so prevalent among
fresh-water sailors, that she was to be an exception to the rule of Father
Neptune, in accordance with which all who intrude for the first time upon
his domain are compelled to pay tribute to his greatness, and humbly bow in
acknowledgment of his power.
Mrs. Garie had determined not to be sea-sick upon any account whatever,
being fully persuaded she could brave the ocean with impunity, and was,
accordingly, very brisk and blithe-looking, as she walked up and down upon
the deck of the vessel. In the course of a few hours they sailed out of the
harbour, and were soon in the open sea. She began to find out how mistaken
she had been, as unmistakable symptoms convinced her of the vanity of all
human calculations. "Why, you are not going to be ill, Em, after all your
valiant declarations!" exclaimed Mr. Garie, supporting her unsteady steps,
as they paced to and fro.
"Oh, no, no!" said she, in a firm tone; "I don't intend to give up to any
such nonsense. I believe that people can keep up if they try. I do feel a
little fatigued and nervous; it's caused, no doubt, by the long drive of
this morning--although I think it singular that a drive should affect me in
this manner." Thus speaking, she sat down by the bulwarks of the vessel,
and a despairing look gradually crept over her face. At last she suddenly
rose, to look at the water, as we may imagine. The effect of her scrutiny,
however, was, that she asked feebly to be assisted to her state-room, where
she remained until their arrival in the harbour of New York. The children
suffered only for a short time, and as their father escaped entirely, he
was able to watch that they got into no mischief. They were both great
favourites with the captain and steward, and, between the two, were so
stuffed and crammed with sweets as to place their health in considerable
jeopardy.
It was a delightful morning when they sailed into the harbour of New York.
The waters were dancing and rippling in the morning sun, and the
gaily-painted ferry-boats were skimming swiftly across its surface in their
trips to and from the city, which was just awaking to its daily life of
bustling toil.
"What an immense city it is!" said Mrs. Garie--"how full of life and
bustle! Why there are more ships at one pier here than there are in the
whole port of Savanah!"
"Yes, dear," rejoined her husband; "and what is more, there always will be.
Our folks in Georgia are not waked up yet; and when they do arouse
themselves from their slumber, it will be too late. But we don't see half
the shipping from here--this is only one side of the city--there is much
more on the other. Look over there," continued he, pointing to Jersey
city,--"that is where we take the cars for Philadelphia; and if we get up
to dock in three or four hours, we shall be in time for the mid-day train."
In less time than they anticipated they were alongside the wharf; the
trunks were brought up, and all things for present use were safely packed
together and despatched, under the steward's care, to the office of the
railroad.
Mr. and Mrs. Garie, after bidding good-bye to the captain, followed with
the children, who were thrown into a great state of excitement by the noise
and bustle of the crowded thoroughfare.
"How this whirl and confusion distracts me," said Mrs. Garie, looking out
of the carriage-window. "I hope Philadelphia is not as noisy a place as
this."
"Oh, no," replied Mr. Garie; "it is one of the most quiet and clean cities
in the world, whilst this is the noisiest and dirtiest. I always hurry out
of New York; it is to me such a disagreeable place, with its extortionate
hackmen and filthy streets."
On arriving at the little steamer in which they crossed the ferry, they
found it about to start, and therefore had to hurry on board with all
possible speed.
Under the circumstances, the hackman felt that it would be flying in the
face of Providence if he did not extort a large fare, and he therefore
charged an extravagant price. Mr. Garie paid him, as he had no time to
parley, and barely succeeded in slipping a _douceur_ into the steward's
hand, when the boat pushed off from the pier.
In a few moments they had crossed the river, and were soon comfortably
seated in the cars whirling over the track to Philadelphia.
As the conductor came through to examine the tickets, he paused for a
moment before Mrs. Garie and the children. As he passed on, his assistant
inquired, "Isn't that a nigger?"
"Yes, a half-white one," was the reply.
"Why don't you order her out, then?--she has no business to ride in here,"
continued the first speaker.
"I guess we had better let her alone," suggested the conductor,
"particularly as no one has complained; and there might be a row if she
turned out to be the nurse to those children. The whole party are
Southerners, that's clear; and these Southerners are mighty touchy about
their niggers sometimes, and kick and cut like the devil about them. I
guess we had better let her alone, unless some one complains about her
being there."
As they drove through the streets of Philadelphia on the way to their new
home, Mrs. Garie gave rent to many expressions of delight at the appearance
of the city. "Oh, what a sweet place! everything is so bright and
fresh-looking; why the pavement and doorsteps look as if they were cleaned
twice a day. Just look at that house, how spotless it is; I hope ours
resembles that. Ours is a new house, is it not?" she inquired. "Not
entirely; it has been occupied before, but only for a short time, I
believe," was her husband's reply.
It had grown quite dark by the time they arrived at Winter-street, where
Caddy had been anxiously holding watch and ward in company with the
servants who had been procured for them. A bright light was burning in the
entry as the coachman stopped at the door.
"This is No. 27," said he, opening the door of the carriage, "shall I
ring?"
"Yes, do," replied Mr. Garie; but whilst he was endeavouring to open the
gate of the little garden in front, Caddy, who had heard the carriage stop,
bounded out to welcome them. "This is Mr. Garie, I suppose," said she, as
he alighted.
"Yes, I am; and you, I suppose, are the daughter of Mr. Ellis?"
"Yes, sir; I'm sorry mother is not here to welcome you; she was here until
very late last night expecting your arrival, and was here again this
morning," said Caddy, taking at the same time one of the little carpet
bags. "Give me the little girl, I can take care of her too," she continued;
and with little Em on one arm and the carpet bag on the other, she led the
way into the house.
"We did not make up any fire," said she, "the weather is very warm to us. I
don't know how it may feel to you, though."
"It is a little chilly," replied Mrs. Garie, as she sat down upon the sofa,
and looked round the room with a smile of pleasure, and added, "All this
place wants, to make it the most bewitching of rooms, is a little fire."
Caddy hurried the new servants from place to place remorselessly, and set
them to prepare the table and get the things ready for tea. She waylaid a
party of labourers, who chanced to be coming that way, and hired them to
carry all the luggage upstairs--had the desired fire made--mixed up some
corn-bread, and had tea on the table in a twinkling. They all ate very
heartily, and Caddy was greatly praised for her activity.
"You are quite a housekeeper," said Mrs. Garie to Caddy. "Do you like it?"
"Oh, yes," she replied. "I see to the house at home almost entirely; mother
and Esther are so much engaged in sewing, that they are glad enough to
leave it in my hands, and I'd much rather do that than sew."
"I hope," said Mrs. Garie, "that your mother will permit you to remain with
us until we get entirely settled."
"I know she will," confidently replied Caddy. "She will be up here in the
morning. She will know you have arrived by my not having gone home this
evening."
The children had now fallen asleep with their heads in close proximity to
their plates, and Mrs. Garie declared that she felt very much fatigued and
slightly indisposed, and thought the sooner she retired the better it would
be for her. She accordingly went up to the room, which she had already seen
and greatly admired, and was soon in the land of dreams.
As is always the case on such occasions, the children's night-dresses could
not be found. Clarence was put to bed in one of his father's shirts, in
which he was almost lost, and little Em was temporarily accommodated with a
calico short gown of Caddy's, and, in default of a nightcap, had her head
tied up in a Madras handkerchief, which gave her, when her back was turned,
very much the air of an old Creole who had been by some mysterious means
deprived of her due growth.
The next morning Mrs. Garie was so much indisposed at to be unable to rise,
and took her breakfast in bed. Her husband had finished his meal, and was
sitting in the parlour, when he observed a middle-aged coloured lady coming
into the garden.
"Look, Caddy," cried he, "isn't this your mother?"
"Oh, yes, that is she," replied Caddy, and ran and opened the door,
exclaiming, "Oh, mother, they're come;" and as she spoke, Mr. Garie came
into the entry and shook hands heartily with her. "I'm so much indebted
to you," said he, "for arranging everything so nicely for us--there is not
a thing we would wish to alter."
"I am very glad you are pleased; we did our best to make it comfortable,"
was her reply.
"And you succeeded beyond our expectation; but do come up," continued he,
"Emily will be delighted to see you. She is quite unwell this morning; has
not even got up yet;" and leading the way upstairs, he ushered Mrs. Ellis
into the bedroom.
"Why, can this be you?" said she, surveying Emily with surprise and
pleasure. "If I had met you anywhere, I should never have known you. How
you have altered! You were not so tall as my Caddy when I saw you last; and
here you are with two children--and pretty little things they are too!"
said she, kissing little Em, who was seated on the bed with her brother,
and sharing with him the remains of her mother's chocolate.
"And you look much younger that I expected to see you," replied Mrs. Garie.
"Draw a chair up to the bed, and let us have a talk about old times. You
must excuse my lying down; I don't intend to get up to-day; I feel quite
indisposed."
Mrs. Ellis took off her bonnet, and prepared for a long chat; whilst Mr.
Garie, looking at his watch, declared it was getting late, and started for
down town, where he had to transact some business.
"You can scarcely think, Ellen, how much I feel indebted to you for all you
have done for us; and we are so distressed to hear about Charlie's
accident. You must have had a great deal of trouble."
"Oh, no, none to speak of--and had it been ever so much, I should have been
just as pleased to have done it; I was so glad you were coming. What did
put it in your heads to come here to live?" continued Mrs. Ellis.
"Oh, cousin George Winston praised the place so highly, and you know how
disagreeable Georgia is to live in. My mind was never at rest there
respecting these," said she, pointing to the children; "so that I fairly
teased Garie into it. Did you recognize George?"
"No, I didn't remember much about him. I should never have taken him for a
coloured man; had I met him in the street, I should have supposed him to be
a wealthy white Southerner. What a gentleman he is in his appearance and
manners," said Mrs. Ellis.
"Yes, he is all that--my husband thinks there is no one like him. But we
won't talk about him now; I want you to tell me all about yourself and
family, and then I'll tell you everything respecting my own fortunes."
Hereupon ensued long narratives from both parties, which occupied the
greater part of the morning.
Mr. Garie, on leaving the house, slowly wended his way to the residence of
Mr. Walters. As he passed into the lower part of the city, his attention
was arrested by the number of coloured children he saw skipping merrily
along with their bags of books on their arms.
"This," said he to himself, "don't much resemble Georgia."[*]
[Footnote *: It is a penal offence in Georgia to teach coloured children to
read.]
After walking some distance he took out a card, and read, 257,
Easton-street; and on inquiry found himself in the very street. He
proceeded to inspect the numbers, and was quite perplexed by their
confusion and irregularity.
A coloured boy happening to pass at the time, he asked him: "Which way do
the numbers run, my little man?"
The boy looked up waggishly, and replied: "They don't run at all; they are
permanently affixed to each door."
"But," said Mr. Garie, half-provoked, yet compelled to smile at the boy's
pompous wit, "you know what I mean; I cannot find the number I wish; the
street is not correctly numbered."
"The street is not numbered at all," rejoined the boy, "but the houses
are," and he skipped lightly away.
Mr. Garie was finally set right about the numbers, and found himself at
length before the door of Mr. Walters's house. "Quite a handsome
residence," said he, as he surveyed the stately house, with its spotless
marble steps and shining silver door-plate.
On ringing, his summons was quickly answered by a well-dressed servant, who
informed him that Mr. Walters was at home, and ushered him into the
parlour. The elegance of the room took Mr. Garie completely by surprise, as
its furniture indicated not only great wealth, but cultivated taste and
refined habits. The richly-papered walls were adorned by paintings from the
hands of well-known foreign and native artists. Rich vases and
well-executed bronzes were placed in the most favourable situations in the
apartment; the elegantly-carved walnut table was covered with those
charming little bijoux which the French only are capable of conceiving, and
which are only at the command of such purchasers as are possessed of more
money than they otherwise can conveniently spend.
Mr. Garie threw himself into a luxuriously-cushioned chair, and was soon so
absorbed in contemplating the likeness of a negro officer which hung
opposite, that he did not hear the soft tread of Mr. Walters as he entered
the room. The latter, stepping slowly forward, caught the eye of Mr. Garie,
who started up, astonished at the commanding figure before him.
"Mr. Garie, I presume?" said Mr. Walters.
"Yes," he replied, and added, as he extended his hand; "I have the pleasure
of addressing Mr. Walters, I suppose?"
Mr. Walters bowed low as he accepted the proffered hand, and courteously
requested his visitor to be seated.
As Mr. Garie resumed his seat, he could not repress a look of surprise,
which Mr. Walters apparently perceived, for a smile slightly curled his lip
as he also took a seat opposite his visitor.
Mr. Walters was above six feet in height, and exceedingly
well-proportioned; of jet-black complexion, and smooth glossy skin. His
head was covered with a quantity of woolly hair, which was combed back from
a broad but not very high forehead. His eyes were small, black, and
piercing, and set deep in his head. His aquiline nose, thin lips, and broad
chin, were the very reverse of African in their shape, and gave his face a
very singular appearance. In repose, his countenance was severe in its
expression; but when engaged in agreeable conversation, the thin
sarcastic-looking lips would part, displaying a set of dazzlingly white
teeth, and the small black eyes would sparkle with animation. The neatness
and care with which he was dressed added to the attractiveness of his
appearance. His linen was the perfection of whiteness, and his snowy vest
lost nothing by its contact therewith. A long black frock coat, black
pants, and highly-polished boots, completed his attire.
"I hope," said he, "your house suits you; it is one of my own, and has
never been rented except for a short time to a careful tenant, who was
waiting for his own house to be finished. I think you will find it
comfortable."
"Oh, perfectly so, I am quite sure. I must thank you for the prompt manner
in which you have arranged everything for us. It seems more like coming to
an old home than to a new residence," replied Mr. Garie.
"I am delighted to hear you say so," said Mr. Walters. "I shall be most
happy to call and pay my respects to Mrs. Garie when agreeable to her.
Depend upon it, we will do all in our power to make our quiet city pleasant
to you both."
Mr. Garie thanked him, and after some further conversation, rose to depart.
As he was leaving the room, he stopped before the picture which had so
engaged his attention, when Mr. Walters entered.
"So you, too, are attracted by that picture," said Mr. Walters, with a
smile. "All white men look at it with interest. A black man in the uniform
of a general officer is something so unusual that they cannot pass it with
a glance." "It is, indeed, rather a novelty," replied Mr. Garie,
"particularly to a person from my part of the country. Who is it?"
"That is Toussaint l'Ouverture," replied Mr. Walters; "and I have every
reason to believe it to be a correct likeness. It was presented to an
American merchant by Toussaint himself--a present in return for some
kindness shown him. This merchant's son, not having the regard for the
picture that his father entertained for it, sold it to me. That," continued
Mr. Walters, "looks like a man of intelligence. It is entirely different
from any likeness I ever saw of him. The portraits generally represent him
as a monkey-faced person, with a handkerchief about his head."
"This," said Mr. Garie, "gives me an idea of the man that accords with his
actions."
Thus speaking, he continued looking at the picture for a short time, and
then took his departure, after requesting Mr. Walters to call upon him at
an early opportunity.