Cousin John Richard wuz partly a layin’ down on a bamboo couch with a lot of pillows to his back—he had had a dretful backache for a day or two. But he wuz a lookin’ some more comfortable than he had, and not quite so wan, but he wuz still fur wanner than I loved to see him. I myself wuz a knittin’ and occasionally a liftin’ my eyes to look over the path that led to the village, for my companion had walked down there to get a pair of new suspenders.

I knew it wuzn’t time for him to get back yet; but such is woman’s love, I kep’ watch of the track on which I expected to see the beloved form approachin’ bimeby.

That man is almost my idol.

It hain’t right to worship a human creeter I know; and then agin, sometimes, when I would meditate on the wickedness of my bein’ so completely wrapped up in him, I have tried to exonerate myself by this thought:

The children of Israel wuz commanded not to worship anything that wuz like anything else in heaven or on earth. And I have sometimes felt that I would get clear on that head if I knelt to him every day and burned incense under him, and made a perfect Dagon of him.

For my dear companion is truly onlike anything I ever see or hearn on; his demeaners is different, and his acts and his talk under excitement. And his linement looks fur different from any other folks’es linements.

But I am a digressin’, and to resoom.

We sot there as happy as a nest full of turkle doves, when all of a sudden the girl come up with a card on a little silver server, and handed it to Maggie as if it wuz a cracker or a cup of tea, and Maggie took it and read out:

“Colonel Seybert.”

And Thomas J. spoke up and told the girl to ask the Colonel out there where we wuz; and so she did, and sot him a chair by Thomas J., out amongst the rose-vines.

He come in as polite as ever, and accosted us all in a very genteel way. He had brought Maggie a great bunch of orchids, and said “the Madam had sent them to her with her compliments.”

He meant his wife—he most always called her so.

The posys he brought wuz very rare. They grow on air mostly, and only have the very slightest soil to connect ’em with the earth.

And from all accounts (I thought to myself) that wuz the way that his angel of a wife lived herself. Almost all of the roots of her sweet nater wuz in heaven. Jest enough connection with this world so all could see the brightness and bloom and size of the divine flower of holiness that sprung up out of her lone, unhappy life.

Maggie took the flowers and thanked him, and told him to tell Mrs. Seybert how much she prized her kind thoughtfulness, and how sorry she wuz to hear of her continued ill health.

That woman, from all I hear, hain’t long for this world.

Wall, they all passed the time of day in politeness and general conversation, till—for my life I can’t hardly tell how it begun—but I believe Col. Seybert had had some trouble with his colored help—but anyway and tenny rate, Col. Seybert launched out into a perfect tirade of abuse of the black race.

He didn’t notice Genieve a settin’ there no more’n a ice-cold avalanche would stay its course for a idlewiss blossom—no; it would crunch right along down and crush the blossom without any pity or compunction.

Good land! you don’t look for pity, or consideration, or any other of the soft, warm-souled graces in a avalanche of snow and ice, or the nater of a bad man.

But I jest think my eyes of Genieve, and so duz Maggie and all on us, and we every one on us tried to turn the conversation into more peaceful channels.

Why, I myself brung up religion, turnips, catnip, the tariff, the Dismal Swamp, and oranges, a tryin’ to get his mind off.

And Maggie brung up as many, if not more’n I did, and Thomas J. the same, and etcetery.

And even little Snow, seemin’ to understand what wuz incumbent on her to do as a little lady, brung up the doll and showed her to the Colonel, and called her by her hull name, Samantha Maggie Tirzah Ann.

As for Cousin John Richard, we didn’t expect no outlay of strength from him, feelin’, as he did, in pain all the time.

But Maggie, seein’, I spoze, our efforts wuz futiler than we could hope, tried to make another diversion by orderin’ in a pitcher of drink made from the juice of oranges and pineapples, very sweet and delicious. But he drinked it right off and went on; it seemed to jest refresh him and renew his strength to talk—we see he couldn’t be stopped nohow.

And seein’ he wuz a neighbor, and seein’ that Genieve sot there jest as calm as a mornin’ in June, and didn’t seem to care a mite about his talk, why, we had to let him take his swing and talk his talk out.

But before several minutes had passed I jest found myself a soarin’ up onbeknown to myself, and I felt that I must, if he went on much longer, jest wade in and give him a piece of my mind, and I felt that I shouldn’t scrimp him in the piece nuther.

Why, his talk wuz scandalous.

He talked as if the blacks wuz of no more consequence than so many black ants on a ant-hill, and it seemed as if he would love to jest walk right over ’em and crush ’em all down under his heel.

Why, he showed such a deadly horstility, and contempt, and scorn to ’em and to everything connected with ’em, that at last I had to speak out.

And sez I, “If you feel like that, I shouldn’t think you would oppose ’em in their skeme of colonization.” (I knew jest how bitter he had been about his brother Victor goin’, and the rest of his laborers.)

Sez I, “I should think, if you had such a opinion of ’em, the sooner you could get rid of the hull caboodle of ’em the better you would like it.”

He fairly scowled, he looked so mad.

But the thought of Genieve sort o’ boyed me up, and duty, and I didn’t care for his black looks, not a mite.

And I felt that bein’ a visitor myself, I could branch out and argue with him to a better advantage to the laws of horspitality than if I wuz master or mistress of the house. So, as I sez, seein’ him determined to cut and slash, I jest boldly waded in.

But, good land! of all the talk, he did go on and talk about the deep and stupendous folly of colonization.

Why, he brung up every argument he could think on aginst the idee, and piled ’em up in front of me. But I jest sot there calmly a knittin’, a seamin’ two and one, and a not bein’ skairt by any of ’em.

And pretty soon—I spoze it wuz seein’ that I looked as calm as a summer day—he sort o’ curbed himself in, as it were, and begun to talk some calmer and composeder.

And sez he, “If there wuz no other insurmountable objection, look at the expense, the enormous cost of taking the blacks to Africa and supporting ’em there till they could become self-supporting.”

And I sez, “Will it make the conundrum any easier to get the answer to, to wait till the black people are twice as numerous? They obey the Bible strictly when it tells ’em to multiply and replenish the earth. In less than twenty years they will outnumber the white race here by a million or more. What will be done then?”

“Keep them under,” sez he. “Let them keep their place, the place the Lord designed them for, as servants to the white man. And then,” sez he, “one white man could control a hundred of the beasts.”

But I sez, “To say nuthin’ of the right or wrong of that matter, that day has gone by. They have tasted the air of freedom, and that sweet air always blows out the flower of liberty, not slavery. You can’t put ’em back in their chains agin. Education and culture and the Emancipation Proclamation has forever done away with that.

“You can never make ’em slaves agin, but you can be their slaves. The white race, so long dominant, if it still cultivates the habits of tyranny, and cruelty, and injustice, it can be made slaves to the dominant black race; for it is, as you well know, only a question of a few years when they will outnumber the white people here.

“And which would you ruther have, the black shadow growin’ deeper and deeper every year on this continent, and sectional hatred and race prejudice, and fear, and distrust, and jealousy, and alarm, and a constant variance all the time, onrest, and despair, and helplessness—which would you ruther have, them cruel spirits to camp down by you for good, and a growin’ worse all the time, or to make a big effort and heave the load off for good, and clear the air of all the bad atmosphere of internal and inevitable war, and let Peace settle down on this onhappy land agin? For it would be jest as great a relief to the oppressor as to the oppressed. Lots of good folks South have all their life groaned under this problem of what to do with this burden laid upon their backs by their ancestors.

“They wanted to do right, but didn’t see their way clear. They wanted to solve this problem, but it wuz too big for ’em.”

Then Maggie, bless her sweet soul, spoke up, and sez she, “I believe in the great power of Christianity and education.”

And Col. Seybert sez, “They have got too much education now; that is what ails the brutish upstarts. In the old times, when they couldn’t read nor write nor put on any of their cursed airs, you could get along as well again with them.”

Cousin John Richard bent on him a look that held in each eye a hull Sermon on the Mount and the Ten Commandments, besides lots of Gospel, and pity, and a sort of contempt too.

It wuz a strange look.

But I wouldn’t demean myself by even answerin’ him, but replied to my daughter, and sez:

“I don’t see how any one can help thinkin’ that Christianity and education are the best solutions of this problem that can possibly be found if the black man remains here,” or wherever he is, I added reasonably, in my own mind.

“These, with an educated sufferage, that includes the best of black and white, male and female, bond and free, is, in my opinion, the only hope of this Nation under these circumstances.

“But,” sez I, “religion, though it can do almost anything, yet there are some things it hain’t never done, and I don’t spoze ever will do: it hain’t never took the spots offen a leopard’s back or made a jackal coo like a dove or a serpent walk upright, or a turkle dove mate with a tiger.

“The One who made all nater and true religion, who holds the heavens and earth and seas in His hands, has laid down certain laws ever sence the creation of the world. And it is perfectly impossible for us to break down them laws, or climb over ’em, or creep under ’em.

“There they are, firm, immutible, not to be stirred one jot or tittle by all the strength that can be brought to bear aginst ’em. And Hypocrisy and Cant hain’t a goin’ to help any by sayin’ that Religion is a doin’ sunthin’ that it can’t do.

“So, what can we do? All we have got to do in this matter is to acknowledge them laws and submit to ’em; ignorin’ ’em or walkin’ by ’em with our heads up in the air a pretendin’ we don’t see ’em don’t amount to anything at all, only we are liable to stumble and fall down ourselves.

“And one of these laws is the inherient difference between the black and the white races.

“There is no use a arguin’ on it and a sayin’ that it is onreasonable, and it ort to be overcome, etc.

“Who sez it is reasonable? I don’t. It would be awful convenient sometimes if water would run up hill; but it won’t. And I have to accept the plain fact and lug the water up hill in a pail. For me to stand on top of the hill and holler for it to come up would be foolish. I might yell all my life, and couldn’t start a drop up hill, and my lungs would be tired out for nuthin’. And you might think sometimes that a good old childless cat might adopt a mouse; but she won’t, only in one way. Mebby it hain’t Christian in her, but she wuz made that way. If she accepts it at all, it will be inside of her. I can’t help it, and she can’t. She wuz made that way before the mountains wuz formed, like as not.

“Religion can do much, but it never has made black white or put the nater of a eagle into a snail, or the virtues of a angel under the hide of a bear.

“And the spellin’ book is extremely desirable and good, and highly worthy, and to be praised. But then there are things too strong for education to overcome. For instance, to draw up the simely that I have drawed before—it hain’t poetick, but one which is familiar to men or wimmen: Education can’t put a number seven foot into a number three shoe.

“No, it can’t be did, and education may orate to them big toes in Greek or Latin, and it may read essays to ’em in words of seven or eight syllables, and quote all the poets to ’em, livin’ or dead, but it hain’t a goin’ to quell ’em down, and make ’em any smaller. It hain’t a goin’ to get ’em into that shoe.

“And when folks talk too much about the sudden miracles that education and Christian teachin’ is going to do to the black race, and seem to expect ’em to become perfect all to once, I want to ask ’em why it hain’t made our own race perfect?

“The white race has had the benefit of Christianity and Education for hundreds of years, and all the means of culture, and it hain’t hendered ’em from bein’ as mean as the Old Harry to the black man, and they despise and wrong the negro jest as much to-day as if St. Paul had never preached or Jesus had not died for the world.”

(I meant some on ’em—I didn’t mean all; but I wuz kinder carried away by my own eloquence.)

“Now,” sez I, “it is a settled thing, and can’t be got round, this inherient, instinctive difference between the black and white races—if they would, they never can amalgamate and be a united people.

“I have said it and repeated it time and agin, and it is true every time, and will keep on bein’ true ‘after my poor, feeble, falterin’ tongue lies silent in the grave.’”

I sez this in a kinder him axent, very strikin’ and touchin’, but Col. Seybert wuzn’t touched nor struck by it, as I could see; but I kep’ on all the same.

“As I have said, time and agin, this law has stood ever sence creation; and so what is the use of thinkin’ it can be broke up by writin’ on a little slip of paper at Washington, D. C.?

“Good land! angels and principalities, and powers, and things present and things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creeter has never made any difference in that law, nor never will.

“And then how silly to think a little mite of paper, made out of old rags and straw, mebby, and wrote over with a few man-made words by a steel pen, is a goin’ to overcome this law and vanquish it! Why, it can’t be done. And your talk, and my talk, and talk from all the pulpits and legislators in the world is only a few whiffs of air a blowin’ over this law—a refreshin’ of it, so to speak.

“Now, this is a settled thing, and it only remains for us to deal with it the best way we can.”

Col. Seybert, I believe, wuz fairly browbeat and stunted to hear such remarkable eloquence from a female; but he wouldn’t demean himself by ownin’ it—in fact, he wanted to give me a rebuke for venturin’ out of what he considered a woman’s spear.

He did not dain a reply to me, but he kinder wheeled round in his chair and accosted Cousin John Richard. He hadn’t said a word to him—only when he wuz introduced to him he passed the usual compliments. But he had hearn about him a sight, I know, and his labors amongst the freedmen, and I spoze mebby half of his mean talk had been aimed at that good creeter a layin’ there on the lounge with a rug over his feet and three plasters onto his dear achin’ back.

And then he didn’t want to hear me talk any more—I could see that, and he branched right off onto another branch of the subject, and sez he to John Richard:

“I should think your preaching would have some effect if you are a preacher of Christ. You ought to teach the niggers to depend on the consolation of the Gospel, and you ought to preach the Gospel of Peace; and that means, I should think, to have the niggers obey their masters, and so save war and bloodshed, instead of inciting them to rebellion and putting absurd ideas into their heads about colonization and a country of their own.” He spoke in a dretful sneerin’, disagreeable tone, that madded me more’n considerable; but John Richard’s face wuz as serene as new milk, and he answered calmly, in a voice kinder low from sickness, but clear as a silver bell:

“The Book says, ‘There is a time for peace and a time to resist oppression.’”

And I spoke up agin, bein’ bound to take John Richard’s part, and keep him from talkin’ all I could, sick as he wuz, and them plasters all a drawin’.

I sez, “No doubt the colonies wuz preached to to set down in chains and enjoy religion, and give up all idees of independence; but our old 4 fathers couldn’t be made to feel so. They seemed to feel that the time had come when the Lord wuz a goin’ to lead ’em out into freedom. And they felt they wuz a preachin’ the Gospel of Liberty and Freedom, the backbones of Christianity, when they struck out for Independence.”