CHAPTER VIII.

OLD TIFF.

"I say, Tiff, _do_ you think he will come, to-night?"

"Laws, laws, Missis, how can Tiff tell? I's been a gazin' out de do'.

Don't see nor hear nothin'."

"It's so lonesome!--_so_ lonesome!--and the nights so long!"

And the speaker, an emaciated, feeble little woman, turned herself

uneasily on the ragged pallet where she was lying, and, twirling her

slender fingers nervously, gazed up at the rough, unplastered beams

above.

The room was of the coarsest and rudest cast. The hut was framed of

rough pine logs, filled between the crevices with mud and straw; the

floor made of rough-split planks, unevenly jointed together; the window

was formed by some single panes arranged in a row where a gap had been

made in one of the logs. At one end was a rude chimney of sticks, where

smouldered a fire of pine-cones and brushwood, covered over with a light

coat of white ashes. On the mantel over it was a shelf, which displayed

sundry vials, a cracked teapot and tumbler, some medicinal-looking

packages, a turkey's wing, much abridged and defaced by frequent usage,

some bundles of dry herbs, and lastly a gayly-painted mug of coarse

crockery-ware, containing a bunch of wild-flowers. On pegs, driven into

the logs, were arranged different articles of female attire, and divers

little coats and dresses, which belonged to smaller wearers, with now

and then soiled and coarse articles of man's apparel.

The woman, who lay upon a coarse chaff pallet in the corner, was one who

once might have been pretty. Her skin was fair, her hair soft and

curling, her eyes of a beautiful blue, her hands thin and transparent as

pearl. But the deep, dark circles under the eyes, the thin, white lips,

the attenuated limbs, the hurried breathing, and the burning spots in

the cheek, told that, whatever she might have been, she was now not long

for this world.

Beside her bed was sitting an old negro, in whose close-curling wool age

had began to sprinkle flecks of white. His countenance presented,

physically, one of the most uncomely specimens of negro features; and

would have been positively frightful, had it not been redeemed by an

expression of cheerful kindliness which beamed from it. His face was of

ebony blackness, with a wide, upturned nose, a mouth of portentous size,

guarded by clumsy lips, revealing teeth which a shark might have envied.

The only fine feature was his large, black eyes, which, at the present,

were concealed by a huge pair of plated spectacles, placed very low upon

his nose, and through which he was directing his sight upon a child's

stocking, that he was busily darning. At his foot was a rude cradle,

made of a gum-tree log, hollowed out into a trough, and wadded by

various old fragments of flannel, in which slept a very young infant.

Another child, of about three years of age, was sitting on the negro's

knee, busily playing with some pine-cones and mosses.

The figure of the old negro was low and stooping; and he wore, pinned

round his shoulders, a half-handkerchief or shawl of red flannel,

arranged much as an old woman would have arranged it. One or two

needles, with coarse, black thread dangling to them, were stuck in on

his shoulder; and as he busily darned on the little stocking, he kept up

a kind of droning intermixture of chanting and talking to the child on

his knee.

"So, ho, Teddy!--bub dar!--my man!--sit still!--cause yer ma's sick, and

sister's gone for medicine. Dar, Tiff'll sing to his little man.

'Christ was born in Bethlehem,

Christ was born in Bethlehem,

And in a manger laid.'

Take car, dar!--dat ar needle scratch yer little fingers!--poor little

fingers! Ah, be still, now!--play wid yer pretty tings, and see what yer

pa'll bring ye!"

"Oh, dear me!--well!" said the woman on the bed, "I shall give up!"

"Bress de Lord, no, missis!" said Tiff, laying down the stocking, and

holding the child to him with one hand, while the other was busy in

patting and arranging the bedclothes. "No use in givin' up! Why, Lord

bress you, missis, we'll be all up right agin in a few days. Work has

been kinder pressin', lately, and chil'ns clothes an't quite so

'speckable; but den I's doin' heaps o' mendin'. See dat ar!" said he,

holding up a slip of red flannel, resplendent with a black patch, "dat

ar hole won't go no furder--and it does well enough for Teddy to wear

rollin' round de do', and such like times, to save his bettermost. And

de way I's put de yarn in dese yer stockings an't slow. Den I's laid out

to take a stitch in Teddy's shoes; and dat ar hole in de kiverlet, dat

ar'll be stopped 'fore morning. Oh, let me alone!--he! he! he!--Ye

didn't keep Tiff for nothing, missis--ho, ho, ho!" And the black face

seemed really to become unctuous with the oil of gladness, as Tiff

proceeded in his work of consolation.

"Oh, Tiff, Tiff! you're a good creature! But you don't know. Here I've

been lying alone day after day, and he off, nobody knows where! And when

he comes, it'll be only a day, and he's off; and all he does don't

amount to anything--all miserable rubbish brought home and traded off

for other rubbish. Oh, what a fool I was for being married! Oh, dear!

girls little know what marriage is! I thought it was so dreadful to be

an old maid, and a pretty thing to get married! But, oh, the pain, and

worry, and sickness, and suffering, I've gone through!--always wandering

from place to place, never settled; one thing going after another,

worrying, watching, weary,--and all for nothing, for I am worn out, and

I shall die!"

"Oh, Lord, no!" said Tiff, earnestly. "Lor, Tiff'll make ye some tea,

and give it to ye, ye poor lamb! It's drefful hard, so 'tis; but

times'll mend, and massa'll come round and be more settled, like, and

Teddy will grow up and help his ma; and I'm sure dere isn't a pearter

young un dan dis yer puppet!" said he, turning fondly to the trough

where the little fat, red mass of incipient humanity was beginning to

throw up two small fists, and to utter sundry small squeaks, to intimate

his desire to come into notice.

"Lor, now," said he, adroitly depositing Teddy on the floor, and taking

up the baby, whom he regarded fondly through his great spectacles;

"stretch away, my pretty! stretch away! ho-e-ho! Lor, if he hasn't got

his mammy's eye, for all dis worl! Ah, brave! See him, missis!" said he,

laying the little bundle on the bed by her. "Did ye ever see a peartier

young un? He, he, he! Dar, now, his mammy should take him, so she

should! and Tiff'll make mammy some tea, so he will!" And Tiff, in a

moment, was on his knees, carefully laying together the ends of the

burned sticks, and blowing a cloud of white ashes, which powdered his

woolly head and red shawl like snow-flakes, while Teddy was busy in

pulling the needles out of some knitting-work which hung in a bag by the

fire.

Tiff, having started the fire by blowing, proceeded very carefully to

adjust upon it a small, black porringer of water, singing, as he did

so,--

"My way is dark and cloudy,

So it is, so it is;

My way is dark and cloudy,

All de day."

Then, rising from his work, he saw that the poor, weak mother had

clasped the baby to her bosom, and was sobbing very quietly. Tiff, as he

stood there, with his short, square, ungainly figure, his long arms

hanging out from his side like bows, his back covered by the red shawl,

looked much like a compassionate tortoise standing on its hind legs. He

looked pitifully at the sight, took off his glasses and wiped his eyes,

and lifted up his voice in another stave:--

"But we'll join de forty tousand, by and by,

So we will, so we will.

We'll join de forty tousand, upon de golden shore,

And our sorrows will be gone forevermore, more, more."

"Bress my soul, Mas'r Teddy! now us been haulin' out de needles from

Miss Fanny's work! dat ar an't purty, now! Tiff'll be 'shamed of ye, and

ye do like dat when yer ma's sick! Don't ye know ye must be good, else

Tiff won't tell ye no stories! Dar, now, sit down on dis yere log; dat

ar's just the nicest log! plenty o' moss on it yer can be a pickin' out!

Now, yer sit still dar, and don't be interruptin' yer ma."

The urchin opened a wide, round pair of blue eyes upon Tiff, looking as

if he were mesmerized, and sat, with a quiet, subdued air, upon his

log, while Tiff went fumbling about in a box in the corner. After some

rattling, he produced a pine-knot, as the daylight was fading fast in

the room, and, driving it into a crack in another log which stood by the

chimney corner, he proceeded busily to light it, muttering, as he did

so,--

"Want to make it more cheerful like."

Then he knelt down and blew the coals under the little porringer, which,

like pine-coals in general, always sulked and looked black when somebody

was not blowing them. He blew vigorously, regardless of the clouds of

ashes which encircled him, and which settled even on the tips of his

eyelashes, and balanced themselves on the end of his nose.

"Bress de Lord, I's dreadful strong in my breff! Lord, dey might have

used me in blacksmissin! I's kep dis yer chimney a gwine dis many a day.

I wonder, now, what keeps Miss Fanny out so long."

And Tiff rose up with the greatest precaution, and glancing every moment

towards the bed, and almost tipping himself over in his anxiety to walk

softly, advanced to the rude door, which opened with a wooden latch and

string, opened it carefully, and looked out. Looking out with him, we

perceive that the little hut stands alone, in the heart of a dense pine

forest, which shuts it in on every side.

Tiff held the door open a few moments to listen. No sound was heard but

the shivering wind, swaying and surging in melancholy cadences through

the long pine-leaves,--a lonesome, wailing, uncertain sound.

"Ah! dese yer pine-trees! dey always a talkin'!" said Tiff to himself,

in a sort of soliloquy. "Whisper, whisper, whisper! De Lord knows what

it's all about! dey never tells folks what dey wants to know. Hark! da

is Foxy, as sure as I'm a livin' sinner! Ah! dar she is!" as a quick,

loud bark reverberated. "Ah, ha! Foxy! you'll bring her along!"

caressing a wolfish-looking, lean cur, who came bounding through the

trees.

"Ah, yer good-for-nothing! what makes yer run so fast, and leave yer

missus behind ye? Hark! what's dat!"

The clear voice came carolling gayly from out the pine-trees,

"If you get there before I do--

I'm bound for the land of Canaan."

Whereupon Tiff, kindling with enthusiasm, responded,--

"Look out for me--I'm coming too--

I'm bound for the land of Canaan."

The response was followed by a gay laugh, as a childish voice shouted,

from the woods,--

"Ha! Tiff, you there?"

And immediately a bold, bright, blue-eyed girl, of about eight years

old, came rushing forward.

"Lors, Miss Fannie, so grad you's come! Yer ma's powerful weak dis yer

arternoon!" And then, sinking his voice to a whisper, "Why, now, yer'd

better b'leve her sperits isn't the best! Why, she's that bad, Miss

Fannie, she actually been a cryin' when I put the baby in her arms.

Railly, I'm consarned, and I wish yer pa 'ud come home. Did yer bring de

medicine?"

"Ah, yes; here 'tis."

"Ah! so good! I was a makin' of her some tea, to set her up, like, and

I'll put a little drop of dis yer in't. You gwin, now, and speak to yer

ma, and I'll pick up a little light wood round here, and make up de

fire. Massa Teddy'll be powerful glad to see yer. Hope you's got him

something, too!"

The girl glided softly into the room, and stood over the bed where her

mother was lying.

"Mother, I've come home," said she, gently.

The poor, frail creature in the bed seemed to be in one of those

helpless hours of life's voyage, when all its waves and billows are

breaking over the soul; and while the little new-comer was blindly

rooting and striving at her breast, she had gathered the worn

counterpane over her face, and the bed was shaken by her sobbings.

"Mother! mother! mother!" said the child, softly touching her.

"Go away! go away, child! Oh, I wish I had never been born! I wish you

had never been born, nor Teddy, nor the baby! It's all nothing but

trouble and sorrow! Fanny, don't you ever marry! Mind what I tell you!"

The child stood frightened by the bedside, while Tiff had softly

deposited a handful of pine-wood near the fireplace, had taken off the

porringer, and was busily stirring and concocting something in an old

cracked china mug. As he stirred, a strain of indignation seemed to

cross his generally tranquil mind, for he often gave short sniffs and

grunts, indicative of extreme disgust, and muttered to himself,--

"Dis yer comes of quality marrying these yer poor white folks! Never had

no 'pinion on it, no way! Ah! do hear the poor lamb now! 'nough to break

one's heart!"

By this time, the stirring and flavoring being finished to his taste, he

came to the side of the bed, and began, in a coaxing tone,--

"Come, now, Miss Sue, come! You's all worn out! No wonder! dat ar great

fellow tugging at you! Bless his dear little soul, he's gaining half a

pound a week! Nough to pull down his ma entirely! Come, now; take a

little sup of this--just a little sup! Warm you up, and put a bit of

life in you; and den I 'spects to fry you a morsel of der chicken,

'cause a boy like dis yer can't be nursed on slops, dat I knows! Dere,

dere, honey!" said he, gently removing the babe, and passing his arm

under the pillow. "I's drefful strong in the back. My arm is long and

strong, and I'll raise you up just as easy! Take a good sup on it, now,

and wash dese troubles down. I reckon the good man above is looking down

on us all, and bring us all round right, some time."

The invalid, who seemed exhausted by the burst of feeling to which she

had been giving way, mechanically obeyed a voice to which she had always

been accustomed, and drank eagerly, as if with feverish thirst; and when

she had done, she suddenly threw her arms around the neck of her strange

attendant.

"Oh, Tiff, Tiff! poor old black, faithful Tiff! What should I have done

without you? So sick as I've been, and so weak, and so lonesome! But,

Tiff, it's coming to an end pretty soon. I've seen, to-night, that I

an't going to live long, and I've been crying to think the children have

got to live. If I could only take them all into my arms, and all lie

down in the grave together, I should be so glad! I never knew what God

made me for! I've never been fit for anything, nor done anything!"

Tiff seemed so utterly overcome by this appeal, his great spectacles

were fairly washed down in a flood of tears, and his broad, awkward

frame shook with sobs.

"Law bless you, Miss Sue, don't be talking dat ar way! Why, if de Lord

_should_ call you, Miss Sue, I can take care of the children. I can

bring them up powerful, I tell ye! But you _won't_ be a-going; you'll

get better! It's just the sperits is low; and, laws, why shouldn't dey

be?"

Just at this moment a loud barking was heard outside the house, together

with the rattle of wheels and the tramp of horses' feet.

"Dar's massa, sure as I'm alive!" said he, hastily laying down the

invalid, and arranging her pillows.

A rough voice called, "Hallo, Tiff! here with a light!"

Tiff caught the pine-knot, and ran to open the door. A strange-looking

vehicle, of a most unexampled composite order, was standing before the

door, drawn by a lean, one-eyed horse.

"Here, Tiff, help me out. I've got a lot of goods here. How's Sue?"

"Missis is powerful bad; been wanting to see you dis long time."

"Well, away, Tiff! take this out," indicating a long, rusty piece of

stove-pipe.

"Lay this in the house; and here!" handing a cast-iron stove-door, with

the latch broken.

"Law, Massa, what on earth is the use of dis yer?"

"Don't ask questions, Tiff; work away. Help me out with these boxes."

"What on arth now?" said Tiff to himself, as one rough case after

another was disgorged from the vehicle, and landed in the small cabin.

This being done, and orders being given to Tiff to look after the horse

and equipage, the man walked into the house, with a jolly, slashing air.

"Hallo, bub!" said he, lifting the two-year-old above his head. "Hallo,

Fan!" imprinting a kiss on the cheek of his girl. "Hallo, Sis!" coming

up to the bed where the invalid lay, and stooping down over her. Her

weak, wasted arms were thrown around his neck, and she said, with sudden

animation,

"Oh, you've come at last! I thought I should die without seeing you!"

"Oh, you an't a-going to die, Sis! Why, what talk!" said he, chucking

her under the chin. "Why, your cheeks are as red as roses!"

"Pa, see the baby!" said little Teddy, who, having climbed over the

bed, opened the flannel bundle.

"Ah! Sis, I call that ar a tolerable fair stroke of business! Well, I

tell _you_ what, I've done up a trade now that will set us up and no

mistake. Besides which, I've got something now in my coat-pocket that

would raise a dead cat to life, if she was lying at the bottom of a

pond, with a stone round her neck! See here! 'Dr. Puffer's Elixir of the

Water of Life!' warranted to cure janders, toothache, earache, scrofula,

speptia, 'sumption, and everything else that ever I hearn of! A

teaspoonful of that ar, morn and night, and in a week you'll be round

agin, as pert as a cricket!"

It was astonishing to see the change which the entrance of this man had

wrought on the invalid. All her apprehensions seemed to have vanished.

She sat up on the bed, following his every movement with her eyes, and

apparently placing full confidence in the new medicine, as if it were

the first time that ever a universal remedy had been proposed to her. It

must be noticed, however, that Tiff, who had returned, and was building

the fire, indulged himself, now and then, when the back of the speaker

was turned, by snuffing at him in a particularly contemptuous manner.

The man was a thick-set and not ill-looking personage, who might have

been forty or forty-five years of age. His eyes, of a clear, lively

brown, his close-curling hair, his high forehead, and a certain

devil-may-care frankness of expression, were traits not disagreeable,

and which went some way to account for the partial eagerness with which

the eye of the wife followed him.

The history of the pair is briefly told. He was the son of a small

farmer of North Carolina. His father, having been so unfortunate as to

obtain possession of a few negroes, the whole family became ever after

inspired with an intense disgust for all kinds of labor; and John, the

oldest son, adopted for himself the ancient and honorable profession of

a loafer. To lie idle in the sun in front of some small grog-shop, to

attend horse-races, cock-fights, and gander-pullings, to flout out

occasionally in a new waistcoat, bought with money which came nobody

knew how, were pleasures to him all-satisfactory. He was as guiltless of

all knowledge of common-school learning as Governor Berkley could

desire, and far more clear of religious training than a Mahometan or a

Hindoo.

In one of his rambling excursions through the country, he stopped a

night at a worn-out and broken-down old plantation, where everything had

run down, through many years of mismanagement and waste. There he stayed

certain days, playing cards with the equally hopeful son of the place,

and ended his performances by running away one night with the

soft-hearted daughter, only fifteen years of age, and who was full as

idle, careless, and untaught, as he.

The family, whom poverty could not teach to forget their pride, were

greatly scandalized at the marriage; and, had there been anything left

in the worn-out estate wherewith to portion her, the bride,

nevertheless, would have been portionless. The sole piece of property

that went out with her from the paternal mansion was one, who, having a

mind and will of his own, could not be kept from following her. The

girl's mother had come from a distant branch of one of the most

celebrated families in Virginia, and Tiff had been her servant; and,

with a heart forever swelling with the remembrances of the ancestral

greatness of the Peytons, he followed his young mistress in her

mésalliance with long-suffering devotion. He even bowed his neck so far

as to acknowledge for his master a man whom he considered by position

infinitely his inferior; for Tiff, though crooked and black, never

seemed to cherish the slightest doubt that the whole force of the Peyton

blood coursed through his veins, and that the Peyton honor was intrusted

to his keeping. His mistress was a Peyton, her children were Peyton

children, and even the little bundle of flannel in the gum-tree cradle

was a Peyton; and as for him, he was Tiff Peyton, and this thought

warmed and consoled him as he followed his poor mistress during all the

steps of her downward course in the world. On her husband he looked with

patronizing, civil contempt. He wished him well; he thought it proper to

put the best face on all his actions; but, in a confidential hour, Tiff

would sometimes raise his spectacles emphatically, and give it out, as

his own private opinion, "dat dere could not be much 'spected from dat

ar 'scription of people!"

In fact, the roving and unsettled nature of John Cripps's avocations

and locations might have justified the old fellow's contempt. His

industrial career might be defined as comprising a little of everything,

and a great deal of nothing. He had begun, successively, to learn two or

three trades; had half made a horse-shoe, and spoiled one or two

carpenter's planes; had tried his hand at stage-driving; had raised

fighting-cocks, and kept dogs for hunting negroes. But he invariably

retreated from every one of his avocations, in his own opinion a

much-abused man. The last device that had entered his head was suggested

by the success of a shrewd Yankee peddler, who, having a lot of damaged

and unsalable material to dispose of, talked him into the belief that he

possessed yet an undeveloped talent for trade; and poor John Cripps,

guiltless of multiplication or addition table, and who kept his

cock-fighting accounts on his fingers and by making chalk-marks behind

the doors, actually was made to believe that he had at last received his

true vocation.

In fact, there was something in the constant restlessness of this mode

of life that suited his roving turn; and, though he was constantly

buying what he could not sell, and losing on all that he did sell, yet

somehow he kept up an illusion that he was doing something, because

stray coins now and then passed through his pockets, and because the

circle of small taverns in which he could drink and loaf was

considerably larger. There was one resource which never failed him when

all other streams went dry; and that was the unceasing ingenuity and

fidelity of the bondman Tiff.

Tiff, in fact, appeared to be one of those comfortable old creatures,

who retain such a good understanding with all created nature that food

never is denied them. Fish would always bite on Tiff's hook when they

wouldn't on anybody's else; so that he was wont confidently to call the

nearest stream "Tiff's pork-barrel." Hens always laid eggs for Tiff, and

cackled to him confidentially where they were deposited. Turkeys gobbled

and strutted for him, and led forth for him broods of downy little ones.

All sorts of wild game, squirrels, rabbits, coons, and possums, appeared

to come with pleasure and put themselves into his traps and springes; so

that, where another man might starve, Tiff would look round him with

unctuous satisfaction, contemplating all nature as his larder, where

his provisions were wearing fur coats, and walking about on four legs,

only for safe keeping till he got ready to eat them. So that Cripps

never came home without anticipation of something savory, even although

he had drank up his last quarter of a dollar at the tavern. This suited

Cripps. He thought Tiff was doing his duty, and occasionally brought him

home some unsalable bit of rubbish, by way of testimonial of the sense

he entertained of his worth. The spectacles in which Tiff gloried came

to him in this manner; and, although it might have been made to appear

that the glasses were only plain window-glass, Tiff was happily ignorant

that they were not the best of convex lenses, and still happier in the

fact that his strong, unimpaired eyesight made any glasses at all

entirely unnecessary. It was only an aristocratic weakness in Tiff.

Spectacles he somehow considered the mark of a gentleman, and an

appropriate symbol for one who had "been fetched up in the very fustest

families of Old Virginny."

He deemed them more particularly appropriate, as, in addition to his

manifold outward duties, he likewise assumed, as the reader has seen,

some feminine accomplishments. Tiff could darn a stocking with anybody

in the country; he could cut out children's dresses and aprons; he could

patch, and he could seam; all which he did with infinite

self-satisfaction.

Notwithstanding the many crooks and crosses in his lot, Tiff was, on the

whole, a cheery fellow. He had an oily, rollicking fulness of nature, an

exuberance of physical satisfaction in existence, that the greatest

weight of adversity could only tone down to becoming sobriety. He was on

the happiest terms of fellowship with himself; he _liked_ himself, he

believed in himself; and, when nobody else would do it, he would pat

himself on his own shoulder, and say, "Tiff, you're a jolly dog, a fine

fellow, and I like you!" He was seldom without a running strain of

soliloquy with himself, intermingled with joyous bursts of song, and

quiet intervals of laughter. On pleasant days Tiff laughed a great deal.

He laughed when his beans came up, he laughed when the sun came out

after a storm, he laughed for fifty things that you never think of

laughing at; and it agreed with him--he throve upon it. In times of

trouble and perplexity, Tiff talked to himself, and found a counsellor

who always kept secrets. On the present occasion it was not without some

inward discontent that he took a survey of the remains of one of his

best-fatted chickens, which he had been intending to serve up,

piecemeal, for his mistress. So he relieved his mind by a little

confidential colloquy with himself.

"Dis yer," he said to himself, with a contemptuous inclination toward

the newly-arrived, "will be for eating like a judgment, I 'pose. Wish,

now, I had killed de old gobbler! Good enough for him--raal tough, he

is. Dis yer, now, was my primest chicken, and dar she'll jist sit and

see him eat it! Laws, dese yer women! Why, dey does get so sot on

husbands! Pity they couldn't have something like to be sot on! It jist

riles me to see him gobbling down everything, and she a-looking on!

Well, here goes," said he, depositing the frying-pan over the coals, in

which the chicken was soon fizzling. Drawing out the table, Tiff

prepared it for supper. Soon coffee was steaming over the fire, and

corn-dodgers baking in the ashes. Meanwhile, John Cripps was busy

explaining to his wife the celebrated wares that had so much raised his

spirits.

"Well, now, you see, Sue, this yer time I've been up to Raleigh; and I

met a fellow there, coming from New York, or New Orleans, or some of

them northern states."

"New Orleans isn't a northern state," humbly interposed his wife, "is

it?"

"Well, New something! Who the devil cares? Don't you be interrupting me,

you Suse!"

Could Cripps have seen the vengeful look which Tiff gave him over the

spectacles at this moment, he might have trembled for his supper. But,

innocent of this, he proceeded with his story.

"You see, this yer fellow had a case of bonnets just the height of the

fashion. They come from Paris, the capital of Europe; and he sold them

to me for a mere song. Ah, you ought to see 'em! I'm going to get 'em

out. Tiff, hold the candle, here." And Tiff held the burning torch with

an air of grim scepticism and disgust, while Cripps hammered and

wrenched the top boards off, and displayed to view a portentous array of

bonnets, apparently of every obsolete style and fashion of the last

fifty years.

"Dem's fust rate for scare-crows, anyhow!" muttered Tiff.

"Now, what," said Cripps,--"Sue, what do you think I gave for these?"

"I don't know," said she, faintly.

"Well, I gave fifteen dollars for the whole box! And there an't one of

these," said he, displaying the most singular specimen on his hand,

"that isn't worth from two to five dollars. I shall clear, at least,

fifty dollars on that box."

Tiff, at this moment, turned to his frying-pan, and bent over it,

soliloquizing as he did so,--

"Any way, I's found out one ting,--where de women gets dem roosts of

bonnets dey wars at camp-meetings. Laws, dey's enough to spile a work of

grace, dem ar! If I was to meet one of dem ar of a dark night in a

grave-yard, I should tink I was sent for--not the pleasantest way of

sending, neither. Poor missis!--looking mighty faint!--Don't

wonder!--'Nough to scarr a weakly woman into fits!"

"Here, Tiff, help me to open this box. Hold the light, here. Darned if

it don't come off hard! Here's a lot of shoes and boots I got of the

same man. Some on 'em's mates, and some an't; but, then, I took the lot

cheap. Folks don't always warr both shoes alike. Might like to warr an

odd one, sometimes, ef it's cheap. Now, this yer parr of boots is lady's

gaiters, all complete, 'cept there's a hole in the lining down by the

toe; body ought to be careful about putting it on, else the foot will

slip between the outside and the lining. Anybody that bears that in

mind--just as nice a pair of gaiters as they'd want! Bargain, there, for

somebody--complete one, too. Then I've got two or three old

bureau-drawers that I got cheap at auction; and I reckon some on 'em

will fit the old frame that I got last year. Got 'em for a mere song."

"Bless you, massa, dat ar old bureau I took for de chicken-coop!

Turkeys' chickens hops in lively."

"Oh, well, scrub it up--'twill answer just as well. Fit the drawers in.

And now, old woman, we will sit down to supper," said he, planting

himself at the table, and beginning a vigorous onslaught on the fried

chicken, without invitation to any other person present to assist him.

"Missis can't sit up at the table," said Tiff. "She's done been sick

ever since de baby was born." And Tiff approached the bed with a nice

morsel of chicken which he had providently preserved on a plate, and

which he now reverently presented on a board, as a waiter, covered with

newspaper.

"Now, do eat, missis; you can't live on looking, no ways you can fix it.

Do eat while Tiff gets on de baby's nightgown."

To please her old friend, the woman made a feint of eating, but, while

Tiff's back was turned to the fire, busied herself with distributing it

to the children, who had stood hungrily regarding her, as children will

regard what is put on to a sick mother's plate.

"It does me good to see them eat," she said, apologetically once, when

Tiff, turning round, detected her in the act.

"Ah, missis, may be! but _you've_ got to eat for _two_, now. What dey

eat an't going to dis yer little man, here. Mind dat ar."

Cripps apparently bestowed very small attention on anything except the

important business before him, which he prosecuted with such devotion

that very soon coffee, chicken, and dodgers, had all disappeared. Even

the bones were sucked dry, and the gravy wiped from the dish.

"Ah, that's what I call comfortable!" said he, lying back in his chair.

"Tiff, pull my boots off! and hand out that ar demijohn. Sue, I hope

you've made a comfortable meal," he said, incidentally, standing with

his back to her, compounding his potation of whiskey and water; which

having drank, he called up Teddy, and offered him the sugar at the

bottom of the glass. But Teddy, being forewarned by a meaning glance

through Tiff's spectacles, responded, very politely,--

"No, I thank you, pa. I don't love it."

"Come here, then, and take it off like a man. It's good for you," said

John Cripps.

The mother's eyes followed the child wishfully; and she said, faintly,

"Don't John!--don't!" And Tiff ended the controversy by taking the glass

unceremoniously out of his master's hand.

"Laws bless you, massa, can't be bodered with dese yer young ones dis

yer time of night! Time dey's all in bed, and dishes washed up. Here,

Tedd," seizing the child, and loosening the buttons of his slip behind,

and drawing out a rough trundle-bed, "you crawl in dere, and curl up in

your nest; and don't you forget your prars, honey, else maybe you'll

never wake up again."

Cripps had now filled a pipe with tobacco of the most villainous

character, with which incense he was perfuming the little apartment.

"Laws, massa, dat ar smoke an't good for missis," said Tiff. "She done

been sick to her stomach all day."

"Oh, let him smoke! I like to have him enjoy himself," said the

indulgent wife. "But, Fanny, you had better go to bed, dear. Come here

and kiss me, child; good-night,--good-night!"

The mother held on to her long, and looked at her wishfully; and when

she had turned to go, she drew her back, and kissed her again, and said,

"Good-night, dear child, good-night!"

Fanny climbed up a ladder in one corner of the room, through a square

hole, to the loft above.

"I say," said Cripps, taking his pipe out of his mouth, and looking at

Tiff, who was busy washing the dishes, "I say it's kind of peculiar that

gal keeps sick so. Seemed to have good constitution when I married her.

I'm thinking," said he, without noticing the gathering wrath in Tiff's

face, "I'm a-thinking whether steamin' wouldn't do her good. Now, I got

a most dreadful cold when I was up at Raleigh--thought I should have

given up; and there was a steam-doctor there. Had a little kind of

machine, with kettle and pipes, and he put me in a bed, put in the

pipes, and set it a-going. I thought, my soul, I should have been

floated off; but it carried off the cold, complete. I'm thinking if

something of that kind wouldn't be good for Miss Cripps."

"Laws, massa, don't go for to trying it on her! She is never no better

for dese yer things you do for her."

"Now," said Cripps, not appearing to notice the interruption, "these yer

stove-pipes, and the tea-kettle,--I shouldn't wonder if we could get up

a steam with them!"

"It's my private 'pinion, if you do, she'll be sailing out of the

world," said Tiff. "What's one man's meat is another one's pisin, my

old mis's used to say. Very best thing you can do for her is to let her

alone. Dat ar is my 'pinion."

"John," said the little woman, after a few minutes, "I wish you'd come

here, and sit on the bed."

There was something positive, and almost authoritative, in the manner in

which this was said, which struck John as so unusual, that he came with

a bewildered air, sat down, and gazed at her with his mouth wide open.

"I'm so glad you've come home, because I have had things that I've

wanted to say to you! I've been lying here thinking about it, and I have

been turning it over in my mind. I'm going to die soon, I know."

"Ah! bah! Don't be bothering a fellow with any of your hysterics!"

"John, John! it isn't hysterics! Look at me! Look at my hand! look at my

face! I'm so weak, and sometimes I have such coughing spells, and every

time it seems to me as if I should die. But it an't to trouble you that

I talk. I don't care about myself, but I don't want the children to grow

up and be like what we've been. You have a great many contrivances; do,

pray, contrive to have them taught to read, and make something of them

in the world."

"Bah! what's the use? I never learnt to read, and I'm as good a fellow

as I want. Why, there's plenty of men round here making their money,

every year, that can't read or write a word. Old Hubell, there, up on

the Shad plantation, has hauled in money, hand over hand, and he always

signs his mark. Got nine sons--can't a soul of them read or write, more

than I. I tell you there's nothing ever comes of this yer larning. It's

all a sell--a regular Yankee hoax! I've always got cheated by them damn

reading, writing Yankees, whenever I've traded with 'em. What's the

good, I want to know! You was teached how to read when you was

young--much good it's ever done you!"

"Sure enough! Sick day and night, moving about from place to place, sick

baby crying, and not knowing what to do for it no more than a child! Oh,

I hope Fanny will learn something! It seems to me, if there was some

school for my children to go to, or some church, or something--now, _if

there is_ any such place as heaven, I should like to have them get to

it."

"Ah! bah! Don't bother about that! When we get keeled up, that will be

the last of us! Come, come, don't plague a fellow any more with such

talk! I'm tired, and I'm going to sleep." And the man, divesting himself

of his overcoat, threw himself on the bed, and was soon snoring heavily

in profound slumber.

Tiff, who had been trotting the baby by the fire, now came softly to the

bedside, and sat down.

"Miss Sue," he said, "it's no 'count talking to him! I don't mean

nothing dis'pectful, Miss Sue, but de fac is, dem dat isn't _born_

gentlemen can't be 'spected fur to see through dese yer things like us

of de old families. Law, missis, don't you worry! Now, jest leave dis

yer matter to old Tiff! Dere never wasn't anything Tiff couldn't do, if

he tried. He! he! he! Miss Fanny, she done got de letters right smart;

and I know I'll come it round mas'r, and make him buy de books for her.

I'll tell you what's come into my head, to-day. There's a young lady

come to de big plantation, up dere, who's been to New York getting

edicated, and I's going for to ask her about dese yer things. And, about

de chil'en's going to church, and dese yer things, why, preaching, you

know, is mazin' unsartain round here; but I'll keep on de lookout, and

do de best I can. Why, Lord, Miss Sue, I's bound for the land of Canaan,

myself, the best way I ken; and I'm sartain I shan't go without taking

the chil'en along with me. Ho! ho! ho! Dat's what I shan't! De chil'en

will have to be with Tiff, and Tiff will have to be with the chil'en,

wherever dey is! Dat's it! He! he! he!"

"Tiff," said the young woman, her large blue eyes looking at him, "I

have heard of the Bible. Have you ever seen one, Tiff?"

"Oh, yes, honey, dar was a big Bible that your ma brought in the family

when she married; but dat ar was tore up to make wadding for de guns,

one thing or another, and dey never got no more. But I's been very

'serving, and kept my ears open in a camp-meeting, and such places, and

I's learnt right smart of de things that's in it."

"Now, Tiff, can you say anything?" said she, fixing her large, troubled

eyes on him.

"Well, honey, dere's one thing the man said at de last camp-meeting. He

preached 'bout it, and I couldn't make out a word he said, 'cause I an't

smart about preaching like I be about most things. But he said dis yer

so often that I couldn't help 'member it. Says he, it was dish yer way:

'Come unto me, all ye labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you

rest.'"

"Rest, rest, rest!" said the woman, thoughtfully, and drawing a long

sigh. "Oh, how much I want it! Did he say _that_ was in the Bible?"

"Yes, he said so; and I spects, by all he said, it's de good man above

dat says it. It always makes me feel better to think on it. It 'peared

like it was jist what I was wanting to hear."

"And I, too!" she said, turning her head wearily, and closing her eyes.

"Tiff," she said, opening them, "where I'm going, may be I shall meet

the one who said that, and I'll ask him about it. Don't talk to me more,

now. I'm getting sleepy. I thought I was better a little while after he

came home, but I'm more tired yet. Put the baby in my arms--I like the

feeling of it. There, there; now give me rest--_please_ do!" and she

sank into a deep and quiet slumber.

Tiff softly covered the fire, and sat down by the bed, watching the

flickering shadows as they danced upward on the wall, listening to the

heavy sighs of the pine-trees, and the hard breathing of the sleeping

man. Sometimes he nodded sleepily, and then, recovering, rose, and took

a turn to awaken himself. A shadowy sense of fear fell upon him; not

that he apprehended anything, for he regarded the words of his mistress

only as the forebodings of a wearied invalid. The idea that she could

actually die, and go anywhere, without him to take care of her, seemed

never to have occurred to him. About midnight, as if a spirit had laid

its hand upon him, his eyes flew wide open with a sudden start. Her

thin, cold hand was lying on his; her eyes, large and blue, shone with a

singular and spiritual radiance.

"Tiff," she gasped, speaking with difficulty, "I've seen the one that

said _that_, and it's all true, too! and I've seen all why I've suffered

so much. He--He--He is going to take me! Tell the children about Him!"

There was a fluttering sigh, a slight shiver, and the lids fell over the

eyes forever.

Dred: A Tale of the Great Dismal Swamp · 第 8 / 57 章