"Miss Tremaine reigns absolute in this room," rejoined Vance; "and from the slavery she imposes we have no desire, I presume, to be free.” "And her order is," cried Laura, "that you sink the shop. Thank you, Mr. Vance, for vindicating my authority." There was no further jarring. Both the young men were personally fine specimens of the Southern chivalric race. Onslow was the larger and handsomer. He seemed to unite with a feminine gentleness the traits that make a man popular and beloved among men; a charming companion, sunny-tempered, amiable, social, ever finding a soul of goodness in things evil, and making even trivialities surrender enjoyments, where to other men all was barren. Life was to him a sort of grand picnic, and a man's true business was to make himself as agreeable as possible, first to himself, and then to others. Far different seemed Kenrick. To him the important world was that of ideas. All else was unsubstantial. The thought that was uppermost must be uttered. Not to conciliate, not to please, even in the drawing-room, would he be an assentator, a flatterer. To him truth was the one thing needful, and therefore, in season and out of season, must error be combated whenever met. The times were of a character to intensify in him all his idiosyncrasies. He could not smile, and sing, and utter small-talk while his country was being weighed in the balance of the All-just, - and her institutions purged as by fire. And so to Laura he dwindled into insignificance. Vance rose to go. "One song. Indeed, I must have one," said Laura. Vance complied with her request, singing a favorite song of Estelle's, Reichardt's "Du liebes Aug', du lieber Stern, Du bist mir nah', und doch so fern!"* Then, pressing Laura's proffered hand, and bowing, he left. "What a voice! what a touch!" said Onslow. "It was enchanting!” cried Laura. "I thought he was a different sort of man," sighed Kenrick. * "Beloved eye, beloved star, Thou art so near, and yet so far!” A CHAPTER XXIV. CONFESSIONS OF A MEAN WHITE. "Throw thyself on thy God, nor mock him with feeble denial; Sure of his love, and O, sure of his mercy at last; Bitter and deep though the draught, yet drain thou the cup of thy trial, Lines composed by Sir John Herschel in a dream. FTER an early breakfast the following morning, Vance proceeded to the hospital. The patient had been expecting him. "He has seemed to know just how near you've been for the last hour," said the nurse. "He followed ୨୭ "Sit down, Mr. Vance, please," interrupted the patient. Vance drew a chair near to the pillow and sat down. "It all kum ter me last night, Mr. Vance! Now I remember.whar 't was I met yer. But fust lem me tell yer who an' what I be. My name's Quattles. I was born in South Kerliny, not fur from Columby. I was what the niggers call a mean white, and my father he was a mean white afore me, and all my brothers they was mean whites, and my sisters they mahrrid mean whites. The one thing we was raised ter do fiust-rate, and what we tuk ter kindly from the start, was ter shirk labor. We was taught 't was degradin' ter do useful work like a nigger does, so we all tried hard ter find su❜thin' that mowt be easy an' not useful.” 66 66 My dear fellow," interrupted Vance, who saw the man was suffering, you 're fatiguing yourself too much. Rest awhile.” "No, Mr. Vance. You mus n't mind these twitchin's an' spazums like. They airn't quite as bahd as they look. Wall, as I war sayin', one cuss of slavery ar', it drives the poor whites away from honest labor; makes 'em think it's meansperretid ter hoe corn an' plant 'taters. An' this feelin', yer see, ar' all ter the profit uv the rich men, the Hammonds, Rhetts, an' Draytons, 'cause why? 'cause it leaves ter the rich all the good land, an' drives the poor whites ter pickin' up a mean livin', any way they kin, outside uv hard work! Howsomever, I did n't see this; an' so, like other mis'rable fools, I thowt I war a sort uv a 'ristocrat myself, 'cause I could put on airs afore a nigger. An' this feelin' the slave-owners try to keep up in the mean whites; try to make 'em feel proud they're not niggers, though the hull time the poor cusses fare wuss nor any nigger in a rice-swamp.” 66 My friend," said Vance, "you've got at the truth at last, though I fear you've been long about it." "Yer may bet high on that, Mr. Vance! How I used ter cuss the Abolishuners, an' go ravin' mahd over the meddlin' Yankees! Wall, what d' yer think war the best thing South Kerliny could do fur me, after never off'rin' me a chance ter larn ter read an' write? I'll tell yer what the peculiar prermoted me ter. I riz to be foreman uv of a rat-pit.” "Of a what?" interrogated Vance. "Of a rat-pit. There war a feller in Charleston who kept a rat-pit, whar a little tareyer dog killed rats, so many a minute, to please the sportin' gentry an' other swells. Price uv admission one dollar. The swells would come an' bet how many rats the dog would kill in a minute, 't was sometimes thirty, sometimes forty, and wunst 't was fifty. My bus'ness was ter throw the rats, one after another, inter the pit. We'd a big cage with a hole in the top, an' I had ter put my bar land in, an' throw out the rats fast as I could, one by one. The tareyer would spring an' break the backs uv the varmints with one jerk uv his teeth. Great bus'ness fur a white man, war n't it? So much more genteel than plantin' an' hoein'! Wall, I kept at that pleasant trade five yars, an' then lost my place 'cause both hands got so badly bit I could n't pull out the rats no longer." "You must have seen things from a bad stand-point, my friend." "Bad as 't was, 't was better nor the slavery stand-pint I kum ter next. Yer'v heerd tell uv Jeff McTavish? Wall, Jeff had an overseer who got shot in the leg by a runaway swamp nigger, an' so I was hired as a sort uv overseer's mate. I war n't brung up ter be very tender 'bout niggers, Mr. Vance; but the way niggers was treated on that air plantation was too much even for my tough stomach. I've seen niggers shot down dead by McTavish fur jest openin' thar big lips to answer him when he was mad. There war n't ten uv his slaves out uv a hunderd, that war n't scored all up an' down the back with marks uv the lash." * "Did you whip them?" inquired Vance. "I did n't do nothin' else; but I did it slack, an' McTavish he found it out, and begun jawin' me. An' I guv it to him back, and we hahd it thar purty steep, an' bymeby he outs with his revolver, but I war too spry for him. I tripped him up, an' he hahd ter ask pardon uv a mean white wunst in his life, an' no mistake. A little tahmrin' water, please." Vance administered a spoonful, and the patient resumed his story. "In coorse, I hahd ter leave McTavish. Then fur five years I'd a tight time of it keepin' wooded up. What with huntin' and fishin', thimble-riggin' an' stealin', I got along somehow, an' riz ter be a sort uv steamboat gambler on the Misippy. 'T was thar I fust saw you, Mr. Vance." "On the Mississippi! When and where?" "Some fifteen yars ago, on boord the Pontiac, jest afore she blowed up." "Indeed! I've no recollection of meeting you." "Don't yer remember Kunnle D'lancy Hyde? "Perfectly." "Wall, I war his shadder. He could n't go nowhar I did n't foller. If he took snuff, I sneezed. If he got drunk, I staggered. Don't yer remember a darkish, long-haired feller, he called Quattles ? ” وو "Are you that man?" exclaimed Vance, restraining his emotion. "I'm nobody else, Mr. Vance, an' it ain't fur nothin' I've * General Ullmann writes from New Orleans, June 6, 1863, to Governor Andrew: " "Every man (freed negro) presenting himself to be recruited, strips to the skin. My surgeons report to me that not one in fifteen is free from marks of severe lashing. More than one half are rejected because of disability from lashing with whips, and the biting of dogs on calves and thighs. It is frightful. Hundreds have welts on their backs as large as one of your largest fingers." got yer here to har what I've ter tell. Ef I don't stop to say I'm sorry for the mean things I done, 't aint 'cause I hain't some shame 'bout it, but 'cause time's short. When the Pontiac blowed up, I an' the Kunnle (he's 'bout as much uv a kunnle as I'm uv a bishop), we found ou'selves on that part uv the boat whar least damage was did. We was purty well corned, for we'd been drinkin' some, but the smash-up sobered us. The Kunnle's fust thowt was fur his niggers. Says I: 'Let the niggers slide. We sh'll be almighty lucky ef we keep out of hell ou'selves.' "Twas ev'ry man for hisself, yer know.” "Were you on the forward part of the wreck?” "Yes, Mr. Vance, an' it soon began ter sink. Poor critters, men an' women, some scalded, some strugglin' in the water, war cryin' for help. The Kunnle an' I-" 66 "Stop a moment," said Vance; and, drawing out paper and pencil, he made copious notes. dropped inter the Says the Kunnle gal, an' I'll take "As I war sayin', Mr. Vance, the Kunnle an' I got four lifepresarvin' stools, lahshed 'em together, an' begun ter make off for the shore. Says I, 'We owt ter save one uv those women folks.' A yaller gal, with a white child in her arms, was screamin' out for us to take her an' the child. Jest then she got a blow on the head from a block that fell from one uv the masts. It seemed ter make her wild, an' she water, but held on tight ter the young 'un. to me, says he, 'Now, Cappn, you take the the bebby.' An' so we done it, and all got ashore safe. We lahnded on the Tennessee side. The sun hahd n't riz, but 't was jest light enough ter see. We made tracks away from the river till we kum ter a nigger's desarted hut, out of sight 'tween two hills. Thar we left the yaller gal and the bebby. The gal seemed kind o' crazy; so we fastened 'em in." "And the child?" asked Vance. was?" "Did you know whose it "O yes, I knowed it, 'cause I'd seen the yaller gal more 'n a dozen times, off an' on, leadin' the little thing about. The Berwicks, a North'n family, was the parrents. Wall, the Kunnle an' I, we went back ter the river to see what was goin' on. The sun was up now. The Champion hahd turned back to give help. Poor critters war dyin' all round from |