The Continental Monthly, Vol 2, No 6, December 1862: Devoted to Literature and National PolicyVarious
History
The Continental Monthly, Vol 2, No 6, December 1862: Devoted to Literature and National Policy
Various
Literature, Modern -- 19th century -- Periodicals; United States -- Politics and government -- 19th century -- Periodicals
Suppose an old-fashioned two-story house, one of a very common pattern
in this region, built of wood, and standing on an open foundation of
brick, with a tall, formal chimney projecting at either end, a broad
piazza, and a great flight of wooden steps in front and rear, the latter
looking seaward. Like the house of Chaucer's Reeve, in summer it must
have been all 'yshadowed with greene trees,' the cedar, the cottonwood,
the liveoak, fig, mulberry, and magnolia, growing in the sand or light
soil accruing from vegetable decomposition; and as the evergreens
predominated, its winter aspect was yet pleasant and rural,
notwithstanding a certain air of dilapidation and decay, so common in
Southern dwellings that the inhabitants seem to be unconscious of it.
Adjacent, beyond the short avenue of orange trees by which we had
approached, was a double row of negro huts, with little gardens between
them, forming a rustic lane; farther on, corn and cotton fields. The
geography of the island might be stated as follows: interior woods,
girdled by plantations, with houses on the seaboard or shores of the
river or inlets; a road circumscribing it, and one running across it.
We were welcomed by the appearance of two or three decently clad
house-servants, mulattoes, and an athletic negro, of average
nigritude,[2] every tooth in whose head glistened, as his black face
rippled into a laugh, when his master favored him with some familiar and
approving jocularity. Officiously taking charge of the horse and buggy,
he conveyed them to a spacious but dilapidated stable (the door of
which, I remarked, hung only by its lower hinge), while the servants
were equally zealous in transporting what little baggage we had into the
house. There the Colonel presented me to his daughters, two tall and
rather handsome girls of the ages of eighteen and twenty, dressed in
deep mourning (their mother had died but recently), their aunt, a staid,
elderly matron, who seemed installed as housekeeper, and a fat, careless
gentleman in shirt sleeves, with a cigar in his mouth, who impressed me
as an indolent and improvident poor relation of my host, as, indeed, he
proved. There was present, also, the child of a neighbor, a little
fair-haired girl, called Nelly, who, hearing my nationality mentioned,
would not approach me, which the Colonel accounted for by surmising that
she had received 'Tory' impressions of Britisher's from her parent's
negroes.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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