The River's Children: An Idyl of the MississippiStuart, Ruth McEnery
General
The River's Children: An Idyl of the Mississippi
Stuart, Ruth McEnery
African Americans -- Fiction; Conduct of life -- Fiction; Mississippi River -- Fiction; Poverty -- Fiction
"An' mids' all de dance an' reveltry, a bolt o' thunder fell like a
cannon-ball outen a clair sky, an' we looked up an' lo an' beholst, here
was a vision of a big hand writin' on de sky, an' a voice say, '_Eat up
de balance ef anything is found wantin'_!' an' wid dat, dey plunged in
like a herd o' swine boun' for de sea, an' dey devoured de fragmints an'
popped mo' corks, an' dipped out mo' champagne wine, an' de mo' dey
dipped out champagne wine, de mo' dey 'd dance. An' de mo' dey 'd dance,
de mo' de wine would flow."
Possibly the old woman's obvious confusion of thought has some
explanation in the fact of the presence of the governor of the State,
who, introduced as a high dignitary, did make a little speech late that
night, thanking the colored people in terms of compliment for their
dancing; and any impression made here was so quickly overlaid by the
deeper experiences of the war that a blending can easily be explained.
There was a shower of coins--"picayunes" only--thrown during the evening
by the master, a feature of the dance being to recover as many of them
as possible without breaking step. So the old woman's memory is not so
far afield, although as a historian she might need a little editing. But
such even as this is much of the so-called "history" which, bound in
calf, dishonors the world's libraries to-day.
It is so easy, seeing cobwebs upon a record,--cobwebs which may not be
quite construed as alphabet,--to interpret them as hieroglyphics of
import, instead of simply brushing them away, or relegating them, where
they belong, to the dusky domain of the myth out of which we may expect
only weird suggestion, as from the mold of pressed rosemary, typifying
remembrance dead.
* * * * *
The house-party, which in this poor retrospect seems to have devoted
itself almost wholly to pleasure, was nevertheless followed by immediate
work upon the project in behalf of which it was planned.
With this main motive was also the ulterior and most proper one in
Harold's mind of introducing his wife in so intimate a fashion to some
of the important members of society, who would date life-friendships
from the pleasant occasion of helping him to open his own door to them.
Some thousands of dollars went into the quicksands of the marshes before
the foundations were laid for the arch of a proposed great bridge,
beneath which his boats should sail to their landing. With the arrogant
bravado of an impulsive boy challenged to action, he began his arch
first. Its announcement of independence and munificence would express
the position he had taken. Sometimes it is well to put up a bold front,
even if one needs work backward from it.
Harold moved fast--but the gods of war moved faster!
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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