'at we'd have trouble afore we got back, and a-gitten home safe, and
a-bringin' the news 'bout Bills a-jinin' church and all, tickled her so
'at she mighty nigh shouted fer joy. You see, Mother was a' old
church-member all her life; and I don't think she ever missed a sermont
er a prayer-meetin' 'at she could possibly git to--rain er shine, wet
er dry. When they was a meetin' of any kind a-goin' on, go she would,
and nothin' short o' sickness in the fambly, er knowin' nothin' of it,
would stop _her_! And clean up to her dyin' day she was a God-fearin'
and consistent Christian ef they ever was one. I mind now when she was
tuk with her last spell and laid bedfast fer eighteen months, she used
to tell the preacher, when he'd come to see her and pray and go on, 'at
she could die happy ef she could on'y be with 'em all agin in their
love-feasts and revivals. She was purty low then, and had be'n
a-failin' fast fer a day er two; and that day they'd be'n a-holdin'
service at the house. It was her request, you know, and the neighbers
had congergated and was a-prayin' and a-singin' her favorite hymns--one
in p'tickler, "God moves in a myster'ous way his wunders to p'form,"
and 'bout his "Walkin' on the sea and a-ridin' of the storm."--Well,
anyway, they'd be'n a-singin' that hymn fer her--she used to sing
that'n so much, I rickollect as fur back as I kin remember; and I mind
how it used to make me feel so lonesome-like and solemn, don't you
know,--when I'd be a-knockin' round the place along o' evenings, and
she'd be a-milkin', and I'd hear her, at my feedin', way off by myse'f,
and it allus somehow made me feel like a feller'd ort 'o try and live
as nigh right as the law allows, and that's about my doctern yit. Well,
as I was a-goin' on to say, they'd jist finished that old hymn, and
Granny Lowry was jist a-goin' to lead in prayer, when I noticed Mother
kindo' tried to turn herse'f in bed, and smiled so weak and faint-like,
and looked at me, with her lips a-kindo' movin'; and I thought maybe
she wanted another dos't of her syrup 'at Ezry's woman had fixed up fer
her, and I kindo' stooped down over her and ast her ef she wanted
anything. "Yes," she says, and nodded, and her voice sounded so low and
solemn and so fur-away-like 'at I knowed she'd never take no more
medicine on this airth. And I tried to ast her what it was she wanted,
but I couldn't say nothin'; my throat hurt me, and I felt the warm
tears a-boolgin' up, and her kind old face a-glimmerin' away so
pale-like afore my eyes, and still a-smilin' up so lovin' and forgivin'
and so good 'at it made me think so fur back in the past I seemed to be
a little boy agin; and seemed like her thin gray hair was brown and
a-shinin' in the sun as it used to do when she helt me on her shoulder
in the open door, when Father was a-livin' and we used to go to meet
him at the bars; seemed like her face was young agin, and a-smilin'
like it allus used to be, and her eyes as full o' hope and happiness as
afore they ever looked on grief er ever shed a tear. And I thought of
all the trouble they had saw on my account, and of all the lovin' words
her lips had said, and of all the thousand things her pore old hands
had done fer me 'at I never even thanked her fer; and how I loved her
better'n all the world besides, and would be so lonesome ef she went
away.--Lord! I can't tell you what I _didn't_ think and feel and see.
And I knelt down by her, and she whispered then fer Steven, and he
come, and we kissed her--and she died--a-smilin' like a child--jist
like a child.
Well--well! 'Pears like I'm allus a-runnin' into somepin' else. I wisht
I _could_ tell a story 'thout driftin' off in matters 'at hain't no
livin' thing to do with what I started out with. I try to keep from
thinkin' of afflictions and the like, 'cause sich is bound to come to
the best of us; but a feller's rickollection will bring 'em up, and I
reckon it'd ort'o be er it wouldn't be; and I've thought, sometimes, it
was done maybe to kindo' admonish a feller, as the Good Book says, of
how good a world'd be 'thout no sorrow in it.
Where was I? Oh, yes, I rickollect;--about Bills a-jinin' church. Well,
sir, they wasn't a better-actin' feller and more religious-like in all
the neighberhood. Spoke in meetin's, he did, and tuk a' active part in
all religious doin's, and, in fact, was jist as square a man,
appearantly, as the preacher hisse'f. And about six er eight weeks
after he'd jined, they got up another revival, and things run high.
They was a big excitement, and ever'body was a'tendin' from fur and
near. Bills and Ezry got the mill-hands to go, and didn't talk o'
nothin' _but_ religion. People thought awhile 'at old Ezry'd turn
preacher, he got so interested 'bout church matters. He was easy
excited 'bout anything; and when he went into a thing it was in dead
airnest, shore!--"jist flew off the handle," as I heerd a comical
feller git off onc't. And him and Bills was up and at it ever'
night--prayin' and shoutin' at the top o' their voice. Them railly did
seem like good times--when ever'body jined together, and prayed and
shouted hosanner, and danced around together, and hugged each other
like they was so full o' glory they jist couldn't he'p
theirse'v's!--That's the reason _I_ jined; it looked so kindo'
whole-souled-like and good, you understand. But law! I didn't hold
out--on'y fer a little while, and no wunder!
Well, about them times Bills was tuk down with the agur; first got to
chillin' ever'-other-day, then _ever'_ day, and harder and harder, tel
sometimes he'd be obleeged to stay away from meetin' on account of it.
And onc't I was at meetin' when he told about it, and how when he
couldn't be with 'em he allus prayed at home, and he said 'at he
believed his prayers was answered, fer onc't he'd prayed fer a new
outpourin' of the Holy Sperit, and that very night they was three new
jiners. And another time he said 'at he'd prayed 'at Wesley Morris
would jine, and lo and behold you! he _did_ jine, and the very night
'at he _prayed_ he would.
Well, the night I'm a-speakin' of he'd had a chill the day afore and
couldn't go that night, and was in bed when Ezry druv past fer him;
said he'd like to go, but had a high fever and couldn't. And then
Ezry's woman ast him ef he was too sick to spare Annie; and he said no,
they could take her and the baby: and told her to fix his medicine so's
he could reach it 'thout gittin' out o' bed, and he'd git along 'thout
her. And so she tuk the baby and went along with Ezry and his folks.
I was at meetin' that night and rickollect 'em comin' in. Annie got a
seat jist behind me--Steve give her his'n and stood up; and I
rickollect a-astin' her how Bills was a-gittin' along with the agur;
and little Annie, the baby, kep' a-pullin' my hair and a-crowin' tel
finally she went to sleep; and Steve ast her mother to let _him_ hold
her--cutest little thing you ever laid eyes on, and the very pictur'
_of_ her mother.
Old Daddy Barker preached that night, and a mighty good sermont. His
text, ef I rickollect right, was "workin' out your own salvation"; and
when I listen to preachers nowadays in their big churches and their
fine pulpits, I allus think o' Daddy Barker, and kindo' some way wisht
the old times could come agin, with the old log meetin'-house with its
puncheon-floor, and the chinkin' in the walls, and old Daddy Barker in
the pulpit. He'd make you feel 'at the Lord could make Hisse'f at home
there, and find jist as abundant comfort in the old log house as He
could in any of your fine-furnished churches 'at you can't set down in
'thout payin' fer the privilege, like it was a theatre.
Ezry had his two little girls jine that night, and I rickollect the
preacher made sich a purty prayer about the Saviour a-cotin' from the
Bible 'bout "Suffer little childern to come unto Me"--and all; and
talked so purty 'bout the jedgment day, and mothers a-meetin' their
little ones there--and all; and went on tel they wasn't a dry eye in
the house--And jist as he was a-windin' up, Abe Riggers stuck his head
in at the door and hollered "Fire!" loud as he could yell. We all
rushed out, a-thinkin' it was the meetin'-house; but he hollered it was
the mill; and shore enough, away off to the south'ards we could see
the light acrost the woods, and see the blaze a-lickin' up above the
trees. I seed old Ezry as he come a-scufflin' through the crowd; and we
putt out together fer it. Well, it was two mil'd to the mill, but by
the time we'd half-way got there, we could tell it wasn't the mill
a-burnin', 'at the fire was furder to the left, and that was Ezry's
house; and by the time we got there it wasn't much use. We pitched into
the household goods, and got out the beddin', and the furnitur' and
cheers, and the like o' that; saved the clock and a bedstid, and got
the bureau purt' nigh out when they hollered to us 'at the roof was
a-cavin' in, and we had to leave it; well, we'd tuk the drawers out,
all but the big one, and that was locked; and it and all in it went
with the buildin'; and that was a big loss: All the money 'at Ezry was
a-layin' by was in that-air drawer, and a lot o' keepsakes and trinkets
'at Ezry's woman said she wouldn't a-parted with fer the world and all.
I never seed a troubleder fambly than they was. It jist 'peared like
old Ezry give clean down, and the women and childern a-cryin' and
a-takin' on. It looked jist awful--shore's you're born!--Losin'
ever'thing they'd worked so hard fer--and there it was, purt' nigh
midnight, and a fambly, jist a little while ago all so happy, and now
with no home to go to, ner nothin'!
It was arranged fer Ezry's to move in with Bills--that was about the
on'y chance--on'y one room and a loft; but Bills said they could manage
_some_ way, fer a while anyhow.
Bills said he seed the fire when it first started, and could a-putt it
out ef he'd on'y be'n strong enough to git there; said he started
twic't to go, but was too weak and had to go back to bed agin; said it
was a-blazin' in the kitchen roof when he first seed it. So the gineral
conclusion 'at we all come to was--it must a-ketched from the flue.
* * * * *
It was too late in the fall then to think o' buildin' even the onriest
kind o' shanty, and so Ezry moved in with Bills. And Bills used to say
ef it hadn't a-be'n fer Ezry _he'd_ a-never a-had no house, ner nothin'
to putt in it, nuther! You see, all the household goods 'at Bills had
in the world he'd got of Ezry, and he 'lowed he'd be a triflin' whelp
ef he didn't do all in _his_ power to make _Ezry_ perfeckly at home's
long as he wanted to stay there. And together they managed to make room
fer 'em all, by a-buildin' a kindo' shed-like to the main house,
intendin' to build when Spring come. And ever'thing went along
first-rate, I guess; never heerd no complaints--that is, p'tickler.
Ezry was kindo' down fer a long time, though; didn't like to talk about
his trouble much, and didn't 'tend meetin' much, like he used to; said
it made him think 'bout his house burnin', and he didn't feel safe to
lose sight o' the mill. And the meetin's kindo' broke up altogether
that winter. Almost broke up religious doin's, it did. 'S long as I've
lived here I never seed jist sich a slack in religion as they was that
winter; and 'fore _then_, I kin mind the time when they wasn't a night
the whole endurin' winter when they didn't have preachin' er
prayer-meetin' o' some kind a-goin' on. W'y, I rickollect one night in
p'tickler--the _coldest_ night, _whooh_! And somebody had stold the
meetin'-house door, and they was obleeged to preach 'thout it. And the
wind blowed in so they had to hold their hats afore the candles, and
then onc't-in-a-while they'd git sluffed out. And the snow drifted in
so it was jist like settin' out doors; and they had to stand up when
they prayed--yes-sir! stood up to pray. I noticed that night they was
a' oncommon lot o' jiners, and I believe to this day 'at most of 'em
jined jist to git up where the stove was. Lots o' folks had their feet
froze right in meetin'; and Steve come home with his ears froze like
they was whittled out o' bone; and he said 'at Mary Madaline Wells's
feet was froze, and she had two pair o' socks on over her shoes. Oh, it
_was_ cold, now I _tell_ you!
They run the mill part o' that winter--part they couldn't. And they
didn't work to say stiddy tel along in Aprile, and then they was snow
on the ground yit--in the shadders--and the ground froze, so you
couldn't hardly dig a grave. But at last they got to kindo' jiggin'
along agin. Plenty to do there was; and old Ezry was mighty tickled,
too; 'peared to recruit right up like. Ezry was allus best tickled when
things was a-stirrin', and then he was a-gittin' ready fer buildin',
you know,--wanted a house of his own, he said.--And of course it
wasn't adzackly like home, all cluttered up as they was there at
Bills's. They got along mighty well, though, together; and the
women-folks and childern got along the best in the world. Ezry's woman
used to say she never laid eyes on jist sich another woman as Annie
was. Said it was jist as good as a winter's schoolin' fer the childern;
said her two little girls had learnt to read, and didn't know their a-b
abs afore Annie learnt 'em; well, the oldest one, Mary Patience, she
_did_ know her _letters_, I guess--fourteen year old, she was; but
Mandy, the youngest, had never seed inside a book afore that winter;
and the way she learnt was jist su'prisin'. She was puny-like and
frail-lookin' allus, but ever'body 'lowed she was a heap smarter'n Mary
Patience, and she _was_; and in my opinion she railly had more sense'n
all the rest o' the childern putt together, 'bout books and cipherin'
and 'rethmetic, and the like; and John Wesley, the oldest of 'em, he
got to teachin' at last, when he growed up,--but, law! he couldn't
write his own name so's you could read it. I allus thought they was a
good 'eal of old Ezry in John Wesley. Liked to romance 'round with the
youngsters 'most too well.--Spiled him fer teachin', I allus thought;
fer instance, ef a scholard said somepin' funny in school, John-Wes
he'd jist have to have his laugh out with the rest, and it was jist fun
fer the boys, you know, to go to school to _him_. Allus in fer
spellin'-matches and the like, and learnin' songs and sich. I
rickollect he give a' exhibition onc't, one winter, and I'll never
fergit it, I rickon.
The school-house would on'y hold 'bout forty, comf'table, and that
night they was up'ards of a hunderd er more--jist crammed and jammed!
And the benches was piled back so's to make room fer the flatform
they'd built to make their speeches and dialogues on; and fellers
a-settin' up on them back seats, their heads was clean aginst the
j'ist. It was a low ceilin', anyhow, and o' course them 'at tuk a part
in the doin's was way up, too. Janey Thompson had to give up her part
in a dialogue, 'cause she looked so tall she was afeard the
congergation would laugh at her; and they couldn't git her to come out
and sing in the openin' song 'thout lettin' her set down first and git
ready 'fore they pulled the curtain. You see, they had sheets sewed
together, and fixed on a string some way, to slide back'ards and
for'ards, don't you know. But they was a big bother to 'em--couldn't
git 'em to work like. Ever' time they'd git 'em slid 'bout half-way
acrost, somepin' would ketch, and they'd haf to stop and fool with 'em
awhile 'fore they could git 'em the balance o' the way acrost. Well,
finally, to'rds the last, they jist kep' 'em drawed back all the time.
It was a pore affair, and spiled purt' nigh ever' piece; but the
scholards all wanted it fixed thataway, the teacher said, in a few
appropert remarks he made when the thing was over. Well, I was
a-settin' in the back part o' the house on them high benches, and my
head was jist even with them on the flatform, and the lights was pore,
and where the string was stretched fer the curtain to slide on it
looked like the p'formers was strung on it. And when Lige Boyer's boy
was a-speakin'--kindo' mumbled it, you know, and you couldn't half
hear--it looked fer the world like he was a-chawin' on that-air string;
and some devilish feller 'lowed ef he'd chaw it clean in two it'd be a
good thing fer the balance. After that they all sung a sleigh-ridin'
song, and it was right purty, the way they got it off. Had a passel o'
sleigh-bells they'd ring ever' onc't-in-a-while, and it sounded
purty--shore!
Then Hunicut's girl, Marindy, read a letter 'bout winter, and what fun
the youngsters allus had in winter-time, a-sleighin' and the like, and
spellin'-matches, and huskin'-bees, and all. Purty good, it was, and
made a feller think o' old times. Well, that was about the best thing
they was done that night; but everybody said the teacher wrote it fer
her; and I wouldn't be su'prised much, fer they was married not long
afterwards. I expect he wrote it fer her.--Wouldn't putt it past Wes!
They had a dialogue, too, 'at was purty good. Little Bob Arnold was all
fixed up--had on his pap's old bell-crowned hat, the one he was married
in. Well, I jist thought die I would when I seed that old hat and
called to mind the night his pap was married, and we all got him a
little how-come-you-so on some left-handed cider 'at' had be'n a-layin'
in a whiskey-bar'l tel it was strong enough to bear up a' egg. I kin
rickollect now jist how he looked in that hat, when it was all new, you
know, and a-settin' on the back of his head, and his hair in his eyes;
and sich hair!--as red as git-out--and his little black eyes a-shinin'
like beads. Well-sir, you'd a-died to a-seed him a-dancin'. We danced
all night that night, and would a-be'n a-dancin' yit, I rickon, ef the
fiddler hadn't a-give out. Wash Lowry was a-fiddlin' fer us; and along
to'rds three er four in the morning Wash was purty well fagged out. You
see, Wash could never play fer a dance er nothin' 'thout a-drinkin'
more or less, and when he got to a certain pitch you couldn't git
nothin' out o' him but "Barbary Allan"; so at last he struck up on
that, and jist kep' it up, and _kep'_ it up, and nobody couldn't git
nothin' else out of him!
Now, anybody 'at ever danced knows 'at "Barbary Allan" hain't no tune
to dance by, _no_ way you can fix it; and, o' course, the boys seed at
onc't their fun was gone ef they couldn't git him on another tune.--And
they'd coax and beg and plead with him, and maybe git him started on
"The Wind Blows over the Barley," and 'bout the time they'd git to
knockin' it down agin purty lively, he'd go to sawin' away on "Barbary
Allan"--and I'll-be-switched-to-death ef that feller didn't set there
and play hisse'f sound asleep on "Barbary Allan," and we had to wake
him up afore he'd quit! Now, that's jes' the plum facts. And they
wasn't a better fiddler nowheres than Wash Lowry, when he was at
hisse'f. I've heerd a good many fiddlers in my day, and I never heerd
one yit 'at could play my style o' fiddlin' ekal to Wash Lowry. You
see, Wash didn't play none o' this-here new-fangled music--nothin' but
the old tunes, you understand, "The Forkéd Deer," and "Old Fat Gal,"
and "Gray Eagle," and the like. Now, them's music! Used to like to hear
Wash play "Gray Eagle." He could come as nigh a-makin' that old tune
talk as ever you heerd! Used to think a heap o' his fiddle--and he had
a good one, shore. I've heerd him say, time and time agin, 'at a
five-dollar gold-piece wouldn't buy it, and I knowed him myse'f to
refuse a calf fer it onc't--yes-sir, a yearland calf--and the feller
offered him a double-bar'l'd pistol to boot, and blame ef he'd take it;
said he'd ruther part with anything else he owned than his fiddle.--But
here I am, clean out o' the furry agin!... Oh, yes; I was a-tellin'
'bout little Bob, with that old hat; and he had on a swaller-tail coat
and a lot o' fixin's, a-actin' like he was a squire; and he had him a
great long beard made out o' corn-silks, and you wouldn't a-knowed him
ef it wasn't fer his voice. Well, he was a-p'tendin' he was a squire
a-tryin' some kind o' law-suit, you see; and John Wesley he was the
defendunt, and Joney Wiles, I believe it was, played like he was the
plaintive. And they'd had a fallin' out 'bout some land, and was
a-lawin' fer p'session, you understand. Well, Bob he made out it was a
mighty bad case when _John-Wes_ comes to consult him 'bout it, and
tells _him_ ef a little p'int o' law was left out he thought he could
git the land fer him. And then John-Wes _bribes_ him, you understand,
to leave out the p'int o' law, and the squire says he'll do all he kin,
and so John-Wes goes out a-feelin' purty good. Then _Wiles_ comes in to
consult the squire, don't you see. And the 'squire tells _him_ the same
tale he told _John Wesley_. So _Wiles_ bribes him to leave out the
p'int o' law in _his_ favor, don't you know. So when the case is tried
he decides in favor o' John-Wes, a-tellin' _Wiles_ some cock-and-bull
story 'bout havin' to manage it thataway so's to git the case mixed
so's he could git it fer him shore; and posts _him_ to sue fer change
of venue or somepin',--anyway, Wiles gits a new trial, and then the
squire decides in _his_ favor, and tells John-Wes another trial will
fix it in _his_ favor, and so on.--And so it goes on tel, anyway, he
gits holt o' the land hisse'f and all their money besides, and leaves
them to hold the bag! Well-sir, it was purty well got up; and they said
it was John-Wes's doin's, and I 'low it was--he was a good hand at
anything o' that sort, and knowed how to make fun.--But I've be'n
a-tellin' you purty much ever'thing but what I started out with, and
I'll try and hurry through, 'cause I know you're tired.
'Long 'bout the beginnin' o' summer, things had got back to purty much
the old way. The boys round was a-gittin' devilish, and o' nights
'specially theyr was a sight o' meanness a-goin' on. The mill-hands,
most of 'em, was mixed up in it--Coke and Morris, and them 'at had
jined meetin' 'long in the winter had all backslid, and was a-drinkin'
and carousin' round worse'n ever.
People perdicted 'at _Bills_ would backslide, but he helt on faithful,
to all appearance; said he liked to see a feller when he made up his
mind to do right, he liked to see him do it, and not go back on his
word; and even went so fer as to tell Ezry ef they didn't putt a stop
to it he'd quit the neighberhood and go somers else. And Bills was
Ezry's head man then, and he couldn't a-got along 'thout him; and I
b'lieve ef Bills had a-said the word old Ezry would a-turned off ever'
hand he had.--He got so he jist left ever'thing to Bills. Ben Carter
was turned off fer somepin', and nobody ever knowed what. Bills and him
had never got along jist right sence the fight.
Ben was with this set I was a-tellin' you 'bout, and they'd got him to
drinkin' and in trouble, o' course. I'd knowed Ben well enough to know
he wouldn't do nothin' ornry ef he wasn't agged on, and ef he ever was
mixed up in anything o' the kind Wes Morris and John Coke was at the
bottom of it, and I take notice _they_ wasn't turned off when Ben was.
One night the crowd was out, and Ben amongst 'em, o' course.--Sence
he'd be'n turned off he'd be'n a-drinkin',--and I never blamed him
much; he was so good-hearted like and easy led off, and I allus
b'lieved it wasn't his own doin's.
Well, this night they cut up awful, and ef they was one fight they was
a dozend; and when all the devilment was done they _could_ do, they
started on a stealin' expedition, and stold a lot o' chickens and tuk
'em to the mill to roast 'em; and, to make a long story short, that
night the mill burnt clean to the ground. And the whole pack of 'em
collogued together aginst Carter to saddle it onto him; claimed 'at
they left Ben there at the mill 'bout twelve o'clock--which was a fact,
fer he was dead drunk and couldn't git away. Steve stumbled over him
while the mill was a-burnin' and drug him out afore he knowed what was
a-goin' on, and it was all plain enough to Steve 'at Ben didn't have no
hand in the firin' of it. But I'll tell you he sobered up mighty
suddent when he seed what was a-goin' on, and heerd the neighbers
a-hollerin', and a-threatenin' and a-goin' on!--fer it seemed to be the
ginerl idee 'at the buildin' was fired a-purpose. And says Ben to
Steve, says he, "I expect I'll haf to say good-bye to you, fer they've
got me in a ticklish place! I kin see through it all now, when it's too
late!" And jist then Wesley Morris hollers out, "Where's Ben Carter?"
and started to'rds where me and Ben and Steve was a-standin'; and Ben
says, wild-like, "Don't you two fellers ever think it was _my_ doin's,"
and whispers "Good-bye," and started off; and when we turned, Wesley
Morris was a-layin' flat of his back, and we heerd Carter yell to the
crowd 'at "that man"--meanin' Morris--"needed lookin' after worse than
_he_ did," and another minute he plunged into the river and swum
acrost; and we all stood and watched him in the flickerin' light tel he
clum out on t'other bank; and 'at was the last anybody ever seed o' Ben
Carter!