I had a childless aunt, who annually came up from her home in Hanover to
spend part of the summer with my parents and my grandfather. She begged
me of my mother for a visit, meant to be a brief one, and as she was
greatly loved and respected by her people, I was permitted to return
with her.
There were no railroads in Virginia at that time. All journeys were made
in private conveyances. The great coach-and-four had disappeared after
the Revolution. The carriage and pair, with the goatskin hair trunk
strapped on behind, or—in case the journey were long—a light wagon for
baggage, were now enough for the migratory Virginian.
He lived at home except for the three summer months, when it was his
invariable rule to visit Saratoga, or the White Sulphur, Warm, and Sweet
Springs, of Virginia, making a journey to the latter, in something less
than a week, now accomplished from New York in eight or nine hours.
The carriage on high springs creaked and rocked like a ship at sea.
Fortunately, it was well cushioned and padded within—and furnished at
the four corners with broad double straps through which the arms of
the passenger could be thrust to steady himself withal. He needed them
in the pitching and jolting over the rocks and ruts of dreadful roads.
Inside each door were ample pockets for sundry comforts—biscuits,
sandwiches, apples, restorative medicines and cordials, books and
papers. A flight of three or four carpeted steps was folded inside the
door. Twenty-five miles were considered "a day's journey," quite enough
for any pair of horses. At noon the latter were rested under the shade
of trees near some spring or clear brook, the carriage cushions were
laid out, and the luncheon! Well, I cannot presume to be greater than
the greatest of all our American artists,—he who could mould a hero in
bronze and make him live again; and hold us, silent and awed, in the
presence of the mysterious and unspeakable grief of a woman in marble!
Has he not confessed that although he remembers an early perception of
beauty in sky and sea, and field and wood—the memory that has followed
him vividly through life is of odors from a baker's oven, and from
apples stewing in a German neighbor's kitchen? Hot gingerbread and
spiced, sugared apples! I should say so, indeed!
In just such a carriage as I have described, I set forth with my strange
aunt and uncle—a little three-and-a-half-year-old! At night we slept in
some country tavern, surrounded by whispering aspen trees. A sign in
front, swung like a gibbet, promised "Refreshment for man and beast."
Invariably the landlord, grizzled, portly, and solemn, was lying at
length on a bench in his porch or lounging in a "split-bottom chair"
with his feet on the railing. He had seen our coming from afar. He
was eager for custom, but he had dignity to maintain. Lifting himself
slowly from his bench or chair, he would leisurely come forward, and
hesitatingly "reckon" he could accommodate us. I was mortally afraid of
him! Sinking into one of his deep feather beds, I trembled for my life
and wept for my mother.
Finally one night, wearied out with the long journey, we turned into
an avenue of cedars and neared our home. My aunt and uncle, on the
cushions of the back seat, little dreamed of the dire resolve of the
small rebel in front. Like the ants, I had been brought, against my
will, to a strange country. I silently determined I would not be a good
little girl. I would be as naughty as I could, give all the trouble I
could, and force them to send me home again. But with the morning sun
came perfect contentment, which soon blossomed into perfect happiness.
From my bed I ran out in my bare feet to a lovely veranda shaded by
roses. On one of the latticed bars a little wren bobbed his head in
greeting, and poured out his silver thread of a song. Gabriella, the
great tortoise-shell cat, with high uplifted tail, wooed and won me;
and when Milly, black and smiling, captured me, it was to introduce me
to an adorable doll and a little rocking-chair.
From that hour until I married I was the happy queen of the household,
the one whose highest good was wisely considered and for whose happiness
all the rest lived.
The bond between my aunt and her small niece could never be sundered,
and as she was greatly loved and trusted, and as many children blessed
my own dear mother, I was practically adopted as the only child of my
aunt and uncle, Dr. and Mrs. Samuel Pleasants Hargrave.