The Continental Monthly, Vol. 1, No. 1, January 1862: Devoted to Literature and National PolicyVarious
History
The Continental Monthly, Vol. 1, No. 1, January 1862: Devoted to Literature and National Policy
Various
Literature, Modern -- 19th century -- Periodicals; United States -- Politics and government -- 19th century -- Periodicals
'Yes, thank you, I would;' and without more ceremony I adjourned to the
further part of the room, and commenced disrobing. Doffing my boots,
waistcoat, and cravat, and placing my watch and purse under the pillow,
I gave a moment's thought to what a certain not very old lady, whom I
had left at home, might say when she heard of my lodging with a
grass-widow and three young girls, and sprung into bed. There I removed
my undermentionables, which were still too damp to sleep in, and in
about two minutes and thirty seconds sunk into oblivion.
A few streaks of grayish light were beginning to creep through the
crevices in the logs, when a movement at the foot of the bed awakened
me, and glancing downward I beheld the youngest girl emerging from under
the clothes at my feet. She had slept there, 'cross-wise,' all night. A
stir in the adjoining bed soon warned me that the other feminines were
preparing to follow her example; so, turning my face to the wall, I
feigned to be asleep. Their toilet was soon made, and they then quietly
left Scip and myself in full possession of the premises.
The darky rose as soon as they were gone, and, coming to me, said,--
'Massa, we'd better be gwine. I'se got your cloes all dry, and you can
rig up and breakfust at de Cunnel's.'
The storm had cleared away, and the sun was struggling to get through
the distant pines, when Scipio brought the horse to the door, and we
prepared to start. Turning to the old woman, I said,
'I feel greatly obliged to you, madam, for the shelter you have given
us, and would like to make you some recompense for your trouble. Please
to tell me what I shall pay you.'
'Wal, stranger, we don't gin'rally take in lodgers, but seein' as how as
thar ar tu on ye, and ye've had a good night on it, I don't keer if ye
pay me tu dollars.'
That struck me as 'rather steep' for 'common doin's,' particularly as we
had furnished the food and 'the drinks;' yet, saying nothing, I handed
her a two-dollar bank note. She took it, and held it up curiously to the
sun, then in a moment handed it back, saying, 'I don't know nothin'
'bout that ar sort of money; hain't you got no silver?'
I fumbled in my pocket a moment, and found a quarter-eagle, which I gave
her.
'I hain't got nary a fip o' change,' she said, as she took it.
'Oh! never mind the change, madam; I shall want to stop and _look_ at
you when I return,' I replied, good-humoredly.
'Ha! ha! yer a chicken,' said the woman, at the same time giving me a
gentle poke in the ribs. Fearing she might, in the exuberance of her joy
at the sight of the money, proceed to some more decided demonstration of
affection, I hastily stepped into the wagon, bade her good-by, and was
off.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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