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NON-COMMITTAL POLICY.

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might be amicably settled by the 22nd February, the birthday of Washington, and a day always observed as a public holiday, when "a grand peaceful and Union celebration" might take place in every State.

Such was the deep and shrinking horror of war, that one small concession might have led to others. Even the most violent shuddered at the idea of a "fratricidal," "parricidal," "suicidal" war, as it was termed by first one and then another. No two persons did I hear converse together, without encouraging each other with these fond hopes: "Mr. Lincoln may after all prove a good President." "The excitement may soon subside." And the worst anticipations were only of a temporal difficulty. Every letter from my Richmond friends breathed a similar tone. "Oh that there might be no bloodshed!" but yet "we must have our rights."

The course of the President elect was a non

committal one. With what intense anxiety the Southern people were awaiting any declaration of his intended policy is almost incredible; and in a people, too, who gave no indication of fear, but who were, on the contrary, rapidly preparing for the worst, if, "which may God avert," war should be "forced upon

us."

Mr. Lincoln, however, did not feel himself "called upon" to "say anything" until after his inauguration. "My sentiments and my principles were known to the public before I was elected." And he persevered in his taciturnity.

CHAPTER XIII.

Uncle Junius, the Miller.-Aunt Ony's Family.-Plantation Customs.-Barnes, and Rats.-Our Neighbours the Spotts.Introduced to Nobility.-My Easter Holiday.-Ashland.— Miss Amanda's Love-letter.-Maggie is Sold.-Rich blood of the Smiths.-The Easter-Monday Excursion.-Our Domestic Institutions.-Back to Business.

OUR pleasantest walk at Milbank was down to a mill from which the place was named. A beautiful piece of water lay in a picturesque hollow, leading down to which a winding road opened suddenly upon the mill itself, and a very neat, pretty cabin, occupied by Uncle Junius, the miller, and Aunt Ony, his wife. Our Baptist minister combined the business of farmer and miller with his pastoral duties. He employed an overseer to manage his farm, but kept a faithful surveillance over his servants and profits. Uncle Junius came to the house every evening regularly, just as we had assembled in the parlour for family worship; and opening the door and inserting his grey and yellow head, (nothing but the head was ever visible,) summed up the business of the day, which his master duly entered upon a book: "Muster Brown, two bushel-Corn. Muster Black, five bushel-Wheat. Muster Green,

UNCLE JUNIUS, THE MILLER.

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one sack-Flour. Miss Molly White, three bushel— Corn." These entries answered the donble purpose of a check upon the products of the farm, and the amount of Junius' daily labour. Sometimes the report was varied by a message from somebody concerning an order on the miller, or some requisite repairs, which after being made known, a surly "Go now" was followed by the retreat of the grey head, and the closing of the door. Uncle Junius was so fair, or rather "yellow," besides being quite good looking, as to be easily mistaken for a white man. He was an intelligent and trustworthy negro, and, I used to think, deserving of a little more urbanity and sympathy than that gruff" Go now" testified. It did not seem a very likely method of securing the affection of the servant, but I never discovered that Junius felt sensitive on the subject. Mrs. Quence did not ever turn her head and eyes from the contemplation of the blazing pine stems, nor seem at all conscious whether Junius' head was admitting the cold draught or not. Perhaps she pursued the same course as the Misses Smith and their "first circles" did, never to take any notice of the servants; but I had seen many other people whom I should have placed rather in front of these "first circles," who always gave a kind and encouraging "Howdy" to the negroes, particularly the out-doors servants, who were not so often visible at the house.

Constance and Johnny enjoyed a walk to the mill as much as I did, and I was always glad of their com

pany on our Saturday holiday, when we had abundance of time on our hands. Aunt Ony and I soon became acquainted; when she was very proud to exhibit her mistress's stock of poultry, of which she took charge; and then her own, which was quite a thriving one. Next came her vegetable garden, and very forward it was too. Aunt Ony was the neatest, most orderly, and thrifty negress on the place; and she knew where to obtain the best market price for her chickens and cabbages. Her cottage was always clean and inviting, and we used to sit down and chat with her, while she was cooking some dainty morsel for her husband's dinner.

When I could escape for a ramble on any other day than Saturday, it was my greatest enjoyment to sit on the mill-bank with a book, or a budget of newspapers: but Aunt Ony did not leave me quiet many minutes. One afternoon when Constance had not been well enough to study, and Johnny had been unusually quick in finishing up his lessons, I took a long round through the woods, glad to escape, even at the risk of encountering those "rough Irishmen," and reached my favourite tree, whose twisted roots, laid bare upon the bank, formed a charming rustic seat, when Ony espied me and soon came forward.

"You bin a mighty long walk, mistis, dat you have. My little gal, she'd walk wid you any day, an' be mighty please' too. Ef she'd a seen you a gwine out de gate, she'd a ran, dat she would. Don't you ever feel lonesome, mistis? I should think you would;

AUNT ONY'S FAMILY.

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'tis mighty lonesome here now, arter whar you 'se bin used to. My little gal she'd kip you a talkin'; she's got a mighty big mouf. Big tongue, whew-eu-" (relapsing from a laugh into a squeak) "you couldn't kip pace wid her no how! She'd talk you out an' out. Tire you to death wiv talkin'. But she's right smart too, I'll tell yer." This was all intended as a great recommendation of her little girl, prompted by true mother's pride; but not feeling extremely desirous of having my reading and reflections interrupted, nor of being "tired to death" with little Molly's "big tongue," I only thanked her considerate mother, and cautiously promised that "some day" Molly should show me through a new path in the woods.

Human nature is perverse; and from the very fact of the Quences' anxiety to guard me against stray Irishmen nominally, but observations of negroes practically, I was the more ready to take advantage of what little liberty I possessed, and felt quite inclined to continue my chat with Aunt Ony. Little Molly I knew, and her son Pinto, also, whose chief business was to drive the waggons and attend to the stables. This youth was by a former marriage, and I asked Ony if she had any more children.

"Oh yes, mistis; Rose, what you see a milkin' de cows t'other night, she's my darter."

"Is she married?"

No, mistis, she ain't married, but she's got three children tho'."

"Is her husband dead ?"

VOL. I.

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