Love stories; Reconstruction (U.S. history, 1865-1877) -- Fiction; Southern States -- History -- 1865-1877 -- Fiction
He had managed to scrape up a dilapidated
cart and harness somewhere or other, and poor old Bob furnished, greatly
to his disgust, the draft and motive power. Having been a fine and
spirited saddle-horse in his younger days, Bob had naturally rebelled at
the idea of coming down to the level of the plantation mules, and had
shown something of his former self in the vigorous and determined
remonstrance which resulted on the occasion of Jake's first experiments
with the harness; but beyond a temporary dislocation of buckles, straps,
and dash-board, and a volley of African anathemas and "Whoa da's" from
his master, poor old Bob's rebellion had accomplished nothing, and he
had finally settled down into a resigned and dreamy existence, and went
plodding about the vicinity with the asthmatic cart at his heels, a
victim to the vicissitudes of war.
Jake was a pet of mine, and had amused me very much on the occasion of
my first visit to the judge's, and that's why I tell so long a rigmarole
about him. He stood there, a little aloof from the "quality folks,"
grinning and bowing, and making huge semicircular sweeps with his
battered old hat, in his anxiety to do proper honor to the judge's
guests.
I had a chance to receive my especial welcome while Miss Kit was being
almost devoured by her relatives; and presently the baggage was all
pitched off; the train moved on with a parting whoop; Mars appeared at
the rear door and gave me a farewell wave of the hand; and then, leaving
to Jake and Bob the responsible duty of transporting the young lady's
trunks, we four--Miss Summers and Miss Kit, the judge and I--were duly
ensconced in the comfortable old carriage, and went jolting off
homeward.
Mr. Summers and I had much to talk about, and finding it impossible to
get a word in edgewise with the two young ladies, who were fondling,
fluttering, cooing, and chattering on the back seat in the most absorbed
manner imaginable, we gradually drifted off into our law business and
let them gossip away and exchange volleys of news and caresses.
The judge was deeply interested in my account of the adventure with the
Ku-Klux, and much concerned about Amory's hurt.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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