Well, they all went on playin’ “pawns,” and “’pon honour,” and “Here we
go round the gooseberry bush,” and “Oh, sister Feby, how merry we be,”
and sich nonsense ’til they played all they knowed, and while they was
playin’ Mary told me all how cousin Pete bob’d me himself.
This was the most audacious take in I ever hearn of. Do you think the
cus didn’t set rite down beside me, and never blindfolded himself at
all, and hit me every lick himself, and now and then hittin’ his knee
with the book, to make me b’lieve he was bob’d too. My bed was a singin’
with the licks when she told me how he done me, and I do b’lieve if it
hadn’t been for her I’d gin Cousin Pete sich a lickin’ rite thar in that
room as he never had afore in his born days. Blazes! but I was mad at
fust. But Mary begged me not to raise no fus about it, now it was all
over, and she would fix him for his smartness. I hadn’t no sort of a ide
how she was gwine to do it, but I know’d she was enuff for Cousin Pete
any time, so I jest let her go ahed. Well, she tuck the ’bominable fool
off to one side and whispered to him like she was gwine to let him into
a grate secret. She told him ’bout a new play what she learned down to
Macon when she was at the college, called “Interduction to the King and
Queen,” what she sed was a grate deal funnyer than “Brother Bob,” and
’swaded him to help to git ’em all to play.
After she and him made it all up, Cousin Pete put out three chairs close
together in a roe for a throne, and Mary she put a sheet over ’em to
make ’em look a little grand. Bill Byers was to be King and Mary was to
be Queen.
“Now you must all come in t’other room,” ses Cousin Pete, “only them
what belongs to the court, and then you must come in and be interduced,
one at a time.”
“I ain’t gwine,” ses Tom Stallins, “for ther’s some trick in it.”
“No ther ain’t,” ses Cousin Pete, “I’ll give you my word ther ain’t no
trick, only a little fun.”
“Well,” ses I, “I’s had fun enough for one nite.”
Mary looked at me and kind o’ winked, and, ses she:
“You’re one of the court you know, Majer, but jest go out till the court
is sumonsed before the throne.”
Well, we all went out, and bimeby Bill Byers called out the names of all
the lords and ladys what belonged to the court, and we all went in and
tuck chairs on both sides of the throne.
Cousin Pete was to be the first one interduced, and Samuwell Rogers was
to be the feller what interduced the company. Well, bimeby the dore
opened, and in come Cousin Pete, bowin’ and scrapin’ and twistin’ and
rigglein’ and puttin’ on more ares nor a French dancin’ master—he beat
Crotchett all to smash. The King sot on one side of the throne and the
Queen on t’other, leavin’ room in the middle for some one else. Sam was
so full of laugh at Cousin Pete’s anticks that he couldn’t hardly speak.
“Doctor Peter Jones,” ses he, “I interduce you to ther Majestys the King
and Queen.”
Cousin Pete scraped about a while and then drapt on one knee, rite afore
’em.
“Rise, gallant knight,” ses Bill Byers, “rise, we dub you knight of the
royal bath.”
Cousin Pete got up and bowed and scraped a few more times, and went to
set down between ’em, but they ris up jest as he went to set down, and
the fust thing he knowd, kerslosh he went, rite into a big tub full of
cold water, with nothing but his hed and heels stickin’ out.
He tried to kiss Mary as he was takin’ his seat, and if you could jest
seed him as he went into that tub with his arms reached out to her, and
his mouth sot for a kiss, I do b’lieve you’d laughed more’n you ever did
afore in your life. The fellers was all so spicious that some trick was
gwine to be played, that they left the dore open, and when the thing
tuck place they all run in shoutin’ and laughin’ like they would bust
ther sides.
Pete got out as quick as he could, and I never seed a feller so wilted
down in all my life. He got as mad as a hornet, and sed it was a drotted
mean trick to serve ennybody so, specially in cold wether. And he went
rite off home by himself to dry.
Mary made the niggers take out the middle chair and put the tub of water
thar when we was all in t’other room. Pete didn’t spicion the trick was
gwine to turn out that way—he thought the queen was gwine to sentence
every feller what didn’t kiss her as he sot down, to do something that
would make fun for the rest, and he was jest gwine to open the game. I
felt perfectly satisfied after that, and I don’t think Cousin Pete will
be quite so fond of funny tricks the next time.
But I like to forgot to tell you, my weddin’ is to take place—pervidin’
ther ain’t no more yeath-quakes nor unaccountabel things to prevent—on
the 22 of this month, which you know is a famous day what ought to be
celebrated by every genewine patriot in the world. I shall look for you
to come, and I hope you will be sure to be thar, for I know you wouldn’t
grudge the ride jest so see Miss Mary Jones what is to be. We’s gwine to
have a considerable getherin’, jest to please the old folks, and old
Miss Stallins see she’s gwine to give us a real Georgia weddin’ of the
old time fashion. No more from
Your frend, ’til deth,
Jos. Jones.
P.S.—I went over t’other nite to see ’em all, and they was as busy as
bees in a tar-barrel sowin’ and makin’ up finery. Mary was sowin’
something mighty fine and white with ruffles and jigamarees all round
it.
“What kind of a thing is that?” ses I.
The gals looked at one another and laughed like they would die, and my
poor little Mary (bless her soul) kep getherin’ it up in a heap and
blushin’ dredful.
“Tell him, sis,” ses Miss Carline, but Mary looked rite down and didn’t
say nothin’.
“I’ll tell him,” ses Miss Kesiah—“It’s a——.”
“No, you shan’t now—stop, stop,” ses Mary, and she put her pretty
little hand rite on Miss Kesiah’s mouth, and looked like she’d cry for a
little. I felt so sorry for her, I told ’em I didn’t want to know, and
they put the things away, and bimeby I went home, but I kep thinkin’ all
the way what upon yeath it could be. I s’pose I’ll find out some day.
LETTER VII.
Pineville, February 24th, 1843.
Dear Sir,
I am too happy and no mistake—the twenty-second of February is over,
and the “consumation so devotedly to be wished for” is tuck place. In
other words, I’s a married man! I ain’t in no situation to tell you all
how the thing tuck place, not by no means, and if it wasn’t for my
promis, I don’t b’lieve I could keep away from my wife long enough to
rite you a letter. Bless her little sole, I didn’t think I loved her
half so good as I do; but to tell you the rale truth, I do b’lieve I’ve
ben almost out of my senses ever sense nite afore last. But I must be
short this time, while the gals is plagin’ Mary in t’other room. They
are so bad.
I had the licens got more’n a week ago, and old Mr. Eastman brung home
my weddin’ suit jest in time. Mother would make me let Cousin Pete wait
on me, and Miss Kesiah was bridesmaid. Mother and old Miss Stallins had
everything ’ranged in fust rate style long afore the time ariv, and
nothing was wantin’ but your cumpany to make everything complete.
Well, ’bout sun-down Cousin Pete cum round to my room whar we rigged out
for the ’casion, and I don’t b’lieve I ever seed him look so good; but
if he’d jest tuck off them ’bominable grate big sorrel whiskers of his,
he’d looked a monstrous site better. I put on my yaller britches and
blue cloth cote, and white satin jacket, and my new beaver hat, and then
we druv round to old Squire Rogerses and tuck him into the carriage, and
away we went out to Miss Stallinses plantation. When we got thar ther
was a most everlastin’ getherin’ thar waitin’ to see the ceremony afore
they et ther supper. Everybody looked glad, and old Miss Stallins was
flyin’ about like she didn’t know which eend she stood on.
“Come in, Joseph,” ses she, “the galls is in the t’other room.”
But I couldn’t begin to git in t’other room for the fellers all pullin’
and haulin’ and shakin’ the life out of me to tell me how glad they was.
“Howdy, Majer, howdy,” ses old Mr. Byers, “I give you joy,” ses he: “yer
gwine to marry the flower of the county, as I always sed. She’s a
monstrous nice gal, Majer.”
“That’s a fact,” ses old Mr. Skinner, “that’s a fact, and I hope you’ll
be a good husband to her, Joseph, and that you’ll have good luck with
your little—”
“Thank ye, thank ye, gentlemen; come along, Cousin Pete,” ses I, as
quick as I could git away from ’em.
The dore to t’other room was opened, and in we went. I never was so
struck all up in a heap afore—thar sot Mary with three or four more
gals, butiful as a angel and blushin’ like a rose. When she seed me she
kind o’ looked down and sort o’ smiled, and sed “good evenin’.” I
couldn’t say a word for my life, for more’n a minit. Thar she sot, the
dear gal of my hart—and I couldn’t help but think to myself what a
villain a man must be that could marry her and then make her unhappy by
treatin’ her mean; and I determined in my sole to stand atween her and
the storms of the world, and to love her, and take care of her, and make
her happy, as long as I lived. If you could jest seen her as she was
dressed then, and you wasn’t a married man, you couldn’t help but envy
my luck, after all the trubble I’ve had to git her. She was dressed jest
to my likin’, in a fine white muslin frock, with short sleeves, and
white satin slippers, with her hair all hangin’ over her snow-white neck
and shoulders in butiful curls, without a single brest-pin or any kind
of juelry or ornament, ’cept a little white satin bow on the side of her
hed. Bimeby Miss Carline cum in the room.
“Cum, sis, they’s all reddy,” ses she, and ther was grate big tears in
her eyes, and she went and give Mary a kiss rite in her mouth, and
hugged her a time or two.
We all got up to go. Mary trembled monstrous, and I felt sort o’ fainty
myself, but I didn’t feel nothin’ like cryin’.
When we got in the room whar the cumpany was, old Squire Rogers stopt us
rite in the middle of the flore and axed us for the licens. Cousin Pete
handed ’em to him, and he red ’em out loud to the people, who was all as
still as deth. After talkin’ a little he went on:
“If ennybody’s got ennything to say why this cupple shouldn’t be united
in the holy bands of wedlock,” ses he, “let ’em now speak, or always
afterwards hold ther peace—”
“Oh, my lord! oh, my darlin’ daughter! oh, dear laws a massy!” ses old
Miss Stallins as loud as she could squall, a clappin’ her hands and
cryin’ and shoutin’ like she was at a camp-meetin’.
Thunder and lightnin’! thinks I, here’s another yeath-quake. But I held
on to Mary, and was ’termined that nothin’ short of a real bust up of
all creation should git her from me.
“Go ahed, Squire,” ses Cousin Pete. “It ain’t nothin’.”
Mary blushed dredful, and seemed like she would drap on the flore.
Miss Carline cum and whispered something to her, and mother and two or
three more old wimmin got old Miss Stallins to go in t’other room.
The Squire went through the rest of the bisness in a hurry, and me and
Mary was made flesh of one bone and bone of one flesh before the old
woman got over her highstericks. When she got better she cum to me and
hugged and kissed me as hard as she could rite afore ’em all, while all
the old codgers in the room was salutin’ the bride as they called it. I
didn’t like that part of the ceremony at all, and wanted to change with
’em monstrous bad.
After the marryin’ was over we all tuck supper, and the way old Miss
Stallinses table was kivered over with good things was uncommon. After
playin’ and frolickin’ till ’bout ten o’clock, the bride’s cake was cut,
and sich a cake was never baked in Georgia afore. The Stallinses bein’
Washingtonians, ther wasn’t no wine, but the cake wasn’t bad to take
jest dry so. ’Bout twelve o’clock the cumpany begun to cut home, all of
’em jest as sober as when they cum.