CHAPTER XIV.

Charlie at Warmouth.

After the departure of Mrs. Bird to visit her sick friend, Betsey turned to Charlie and bid him follow her into the kitchen. "I suppose you haven't been to breakfast," said she, in a patronizing manner; "if you haven't, you are just in time, as we will be done ours in a little while, and then you can have yours."

Charlie silently followed her down into the kitchen, where a man-servant and the younger maid were already at breakfast; the latter arose, and was placing another plate upon the table, when Betsey frowned and nodded disapprovingly to her. "Let him wait," whispered she; "I'm not going to eat with niggers."

"Oh! he's such a nice little fellow," replied Eliza, in an undertone; "let him eat with us."

Betsey here suggested to Charlie that he had better go up to the maple chamber, wash his face, and take his things out of his trunk, and that when his breakfast was ready she would call him.

"What on earth can induce you to want to eat with a nigger?" asked Betsey, as soon as Charlie was out of hearing. "I couldn't do it; my victuals would turn on my stomach. I never ate at the same table with a nigger in my life."

"Nor I neither," rejoined Eliza; "but I see no reason why I should not. The child appears to have good manners, he is neat and good-looking, and because God has curled his hair more than he has ours, and made his skin a little darker than yours or mine, that is no reason we should treat him as if he was not a human being." Alfred, the gardener, had set down his saucer and appeared very much astonished at this declaration of sentiment on the part of Eliza, and sneeringly remarked, "You're an Abolitionist, I suppose."

"No, I am not," replied she, reddening; "but I've been taught that God made all alike; one no better than the other. You know the Bible says God is no respecter of persons."

"Well, if it does," rejoined Alfred, with a stolid-look, "it don't say that man isn't to be either, does it? When I see anything in my Bible that tells me I'm to eat and drink with niggers, I'll do it, and not before. I suppose you think that all the slaves ought to be free, and all the rest of the darned stuff these Abolitionists are preaching. Now if you want to eat with the nigger, you can; nobody wants to hinder you. Perhaps he may marry you when he grows up—don't you think you had better set your cap at him?"

Eliza made no reply to this low taunt, but ate her breakfast in silence.

"I don't see what Mrs. Bird brought him here for; she says he is sick,—had a broken arm or something; I can't imagine what use she intends to make of him," remarked Betsey.

"I don't think she intends him to be a servant here, at any rate," said Eliza; "or why should she have him put in the maple chamber, when there are empty rooms enough in the garret?"

"Well, I guess I know what she brought him for," interposed Alfred. "I asked her before she went away to get a little boy to help me do odd jobs, now that Reuben is about to leave; we shall want a boy to clean the boots, run on errands, drive up the cows, and do other little chores.[*] I'm glad he's a black boy; I can order him round more, you know, than if he was white, and he won't get his back up half as often either. You may depend upon it, that's what Mrs. Bird has brought him here for." The gardener, having convinced himself that his view of the matter was the correct one, went into the garden for his day's labour, and two or three things that he had intended doing he left unfinished, with the benevolent intention of setting Charlie at them the next morning.

[Footnote *: A Yankeeism, meaning little jobs about a farm.]

Charlie, after bathing his face and arranging his hair, looked from the window at the wide expanse of country spread out before him, all bright and glowing in the warm summer sunlight. Broad well-cultivated fields stretched away from the foot of the garden to the river beyond, and the noise of the waterfall, which was but a short distance off, was distinctly heard, and the sparkling spray was clearly visible through the openings of the trees. "What a beautiful place,—what grand fields to run in; an orchard, too, full of blossoming fruit-trees! Well, this is nice," exclaimed Charlie, as his eye ran over the prospect; but in the midst of his rapture came rushing back upon him the remembrance of the cavalier treatment he had met with below-stairs, and he said with a sigh, as the tears sprang to his eyes, "But it is not home, after all." Just at this moment he heard his name called by Betsey, and he hastily descended into the kitchen. At one end of the partially-cleared table a clean plate and knife and fork had been placed, and he was speedily helped to the remains of what the servants had been eating.

"You mustn't be long," said Betsey, "for to-day is ironing day, and we want the table as soon as possible."

The food was plentiful and good, but Charlie could not eat; his heart was full and heavy,—the child felt his degradation. "Even the servants refuse to eat with me because I am coloured," thought he. "Oh! I wish I was at home!"

"Why don't you eat?" asked Betsey.

"I don't think I want any breakfast; I'm not hungry," was the reply.

"I hope you are not sulky," she rejoined; "we don't like sulky boys here; why don't you eat?" she repeated.

The sharp, cold tones of her voice struck a chill into the child's heart, and his lip quivered as he stammered something farther about not being hungry; and he hurried away into the garden, where he calmed his feelings and allayed his home-sickness by a hearty burst of tears. After this was over, he wandered through the garden and fields until dinner; then, by reading his book and by another walk, he managed to get through the day.

The following morning, as he was coming down stairs, he was met by Alfred, who accosted him with, "Oh! you're up, are you; I was just going to call you." And looking at Charlie from head to foot, he inquired, "Is that your best suit?"

"No, it's my worst," replied Charlie. "I have two suits better than this;" and thinking that Mrs. Bird had arrived, he continued, "I'll put on my best if Mrs. Bird wants me."

"No, she ain't home," was the reply; "it's me that wants you; come down here; I've got a little job for you. Take this," said he, handing him a dirty tow apron, "and tie it around your neck; it will keep the blacking off your clothes, you know. Now," continued he, "I want you to clean these boots; these two pairs are Mr. Tyndall's—them you need not be particular with; but this pair is mine, and I want 'em polished up high,—now mind, I tell you. I'm going to wear a new pair of pants to meetin' to-morrow, and I expect to cut a dash, so you'll do 'em up slick, now won't you?"

"I'll do my best," said Charlie, who, although he did not dislike work, could not relish the idea of cleaning the servants' boots. "I'm afraid I shall find this a queer place," thought he. "I shall not like living here, I know—wait for my meals until the servants have finished, and clean their boots into the bargain. This is worse than being with Mrs. Thomas."

Charlie, however, went at it with a will, and was busily engaged in putting the finishing touches on Alfred's boots, when he heard his name called, and on looking up, saw Mrs. Bird upon the piazza above. "Why, bless me! child, what are you about?—whose boots are those, and why are you cleaning them?"

"Oh!" he replied, his face brightening up at the sight of Mrs. Bird, "I'm so glad you're come; those are Mr. Tyndall's boots, and these," he continued, holding up the boots on which he was engaged, "are the gardener's."

"And who, pray, instructed you to clean them?"

"The gardener," replied Charlie.

"He did, did he?" said Mrs. Bird, indignantly. "Very well; now do you take off that apron and come to me immediately; before you do, however, tell Alfred I want him."

Charlie quickly divested himself of the tow apron, and after having informed the gardener that Mrs. Bird desired his presence in the parlour, he ran up there himself. Alfred came lumbering up stairs, after giving his boots an unusual scraping and cleansing preparatory to entering upon that part of the premises which to him was generally forbidden ground.

"By whose direction did you set the child at that dirty work?" asked Mrs.
Bird, after he had entered the room.

"I hadn't anybody's direction to set him to work, but I thought you brought him here to do odd jobs. You know, ma'am, I asked you some time ago to get a boy, and I thought this was the one."

"And if he had been, you would have taken a great liberty in assigning him any duties without first consulting me. But he is not a servant here, nor do I intend him to be such; and let me inform you, that instead of his cleaning your boots, it will be your duty henceforth to clean his. Now," continued she, "you know his position here, let me see that you remember yours. You can go." This was said in so peremptory a manner, as to leave no room for discussion or rejoinder, and Alfred, with a chagrined look, went muttering down stairs.

"Things have come to a pretty pass," grumbled he. "I'm to wait on niggers, black their boots, and drive them out, too, I suppose. I'd leave at once if it wasn't such a good situation. Drat the old picture—what has come over her I wonder—she'll be asking old Aunt Charity, the black washerwoman to dine with her next. She has either gone crazy or turned abolitionist, I don't know which; something has happened to her, that's certain."

"Now, Charlie," said Mrs. Bird, as the door closed upon the crest-fallen gardener, "go to your room and dress yourself nicely. After I've eaten my breakfast, I am going to visit a friend, and I want you to accompany me; don't be long."

"Can't I eat mine first, Mrs. Bird?" he asked, in reply.

"I thought you had had yours, long ago," rejoined she.

"The others hadn't finished theirs when you called me, and I don't get mine until they have done," said Charlie.

"Until they have done; how happens that?" asked Mrs. Bird.

"I think they don't like to eat with me, because I'm coloured," was
Charlie's hesitating reply.

"That is too much," exclaimed Mrs. Bird; "if it were not so very ridiculous, I should be angry. It remains for me, then," continued she, "to set them an example. I've not eaten my breakfast yet—come, sit down with me, and we'll have it together."

Charlie followed Mrs. Bird into the breakfast-room, and took the seat pointed out by her. Eliza, when she entered with the tea-urn, opened her eyes wide with astonishment at the singular spectacle she beheld. Her mistress sitting down to breakfast vis-a-vis to a little coloured boy! Depositing the urn upon the table, she hastened back to the kitchen to report upon the startling events that were occurring in the breakfast-room.

"Well, I never," said she; "that beats anything I ever did see; why, Mrs. Bird must have turned abolitionist. Charlie is actually sitting at the same table with her, eating his breakfast as natural and unconcerned as if he was as white as snow! Wonders never will cease. You see I'm right though. I said that child wasn't brought here for a servant—we've done it for ourselves now—only think how mad she'll be when she finds he was made to wait for his meals until we have done. I'm glad I wasn't the one who refused to eat with him."

"I guess she has been giving Alfred a blowing up," said Betsy, "for setting him at boot cleaning; for he looked like a thunder-cloud when he came down stairs, and was muttering something about a consarned pet-nigger—he looked anything but pleased."

Whilst the lower powers were discussing what they were pleased to regard as an evidence of some mental derangement on the part of Mrs. Bird, that lady was questioning Charlie respecting his studies, and inquired if he would like to go to school in Warmouth.

"After a while, I think I should," he replied; "but for a week I'd like to be free to run about the fields and go fishing, and do lots of things. This is such a pretty place; and now that you have come I shall have nice times—I know I shall."

"You seem to have great confidence in my ability to make you happy. How do you know that I am as kind as you seem to suppose?" asked Mrs. Bird, with a smile.

"I know you are," answered Charlie, confidently; "you speak so pleasantly to me. And do you know, Mrs. Bird," continued he, "that I liked you from the first day, when you praised me so kindly when I recited my lessons before you. Did you ever have any little boys of your own?"

A change immediately came over the countenance of Mrs. Bird, as she replied: "Oh, yes, Charlie; a sweet, good boy about your own age:" and the tears stood in her eyes as she continued. "He accompanied his father to England years ago—the ship in which they sailed was never heard of—his name was Charlie too."

"I didn't know that, or I should not have asked," said Charlie, with some embarrassment of manner caused by the pain he saw he had inflicted. "I am very sorry," he continued.

Mrs. Bird motioned him to finish his breakfast, and left the table without drinking the tea she had poured out for herself.

There were but one or two families of coloured people living in the small town of Warmouth, and they of a very humble description; their faces were familiar to all the inhabitants, and their appearance was in accordance with their humble condition. Therefore, when Charlie made his debut, in company with Mrs. Bird, his dress and manners differed so greatly from what they were accustomed to associate with persons of his complexion, that he created quite a sensation in the streets of the usually quiet and obscure little town.

He was attired with great neatness; and not having an opportunity of playing marbles in his new suit, it still maintained its spotless appearance. The fine grey broadcloth coat and pants fitted him to a nicety, the jaunty cap was set slightly on one side of his head giving him, a somewhat saucy look, and the fresh colour now returning to his cheeks imparted to his face a much healthier appearance than it had worn for months.

He and his kind friend walked on together for some time, chatting about the various things that attracted their attention on the way, until they reached a cottage in the garden of which a gentleman was busily engaged in training a rosebush upon a new trellis.

So completely was he occupied with his pursuit that he did not observe the entrance of visitors, and quite started when he was gently tapped upon the shoulder by Mrs. Bird.

"How busy we are," said she, gaily, at the same time extending her hand—"so deeply engaged, that we can scarcely notice old friends that we have not seen for months."

"Indeed, this is a pleasant surprise," he remarked, when he saw by whom he had been interrupted. "When did you arrive?"

"Only this morning; and, as usual, I have already found something with which to bore you—you know, Mr. Whately, I always have something to trouble you about."

"Don't say trouble, my dear Mrs. Bird; if you will say 'give me something to occupy my time usefully and agreeably,' you will come much nearer the mark. But who is this you have with you?"

"Oh, a little protege of mine, poor little fellow—he met with a sad accident recently—he broke his arm; and I have brought him down here to recruit. Charlie, walk around and look at the garden—I have a little matter of business to discuss with Mr. Whately, and when we shall have finished I will call you."

Mr. Whately led the way into his library, and placing a seat for Mrs. Bird, awaited her communication.

"You have great influence with the teacher of the academy, I believe," said she.

"A little," replied Mr. Whately, smiling.

"Not a little," rejoined Mrs. Bird, "but a great deal; and, my dear Mr. Whately, I want you to exercise it in my behalf. I wish to enter as a scholar that little boy I brought with me this morning."

"Impossible!" said Mr. Whately. "My good friend, the boy is coloured!"

"I am well aware of that," continued Mrs. Bird; "if he were not there would not be the least trouble about his admission; nor am I sure there will be as it is, if you espouse his cause. One who has been such a benefactor to the academy as yourself, could, I suppose, accomplish anything."

"Yes; but that is stretching my influence unduly. I would be willing to oblige you in almost anything else, but I hesitate to attempt this. Why not send him to the public school?—they have a separate bench for black children; he can be taught there all that is necessary for him to know."

"He is far in advance of any of the scholars there. I attended the examination of the school to which he was attached," said Mrs. Bird, "and I was very much surprised at the acquirements of the pupils; this lad was distinguished above all the rest—he answered questions that would have puzzled older heads, with the greatest facility. I am exceedingly anxious to get him admitted to the academy, as I am confident he will do honour to the interest I take in him."

"And a very warm interest it must be, my dear Mrs. Bird, to induce you to attempt placing him in such an expensive and exclusive school. I am very much afraid you will have to give it up: many of the scholars' parents, I am sure, will object strenuously to the admission of a coloured boy as a scholar."

"Only tell me that you will propose him, and I will risk the refusal," replied Mrs. Bird—"it can be tried at all events; and if you will make the effort I shall be under deep obligations to you."

"Well, Mrs. Bird, let us grant him admitted—what benefit can accrue to the lad from an education beyond his station? He cannot enter into any of the learned professions: both whilst he is there, and after his education is finished, he will be like a fish out of water. You must pardon me if I say I think, in this case, your benevolence misdirected. The boy's parents are poor, I presume?"

"They certainly are not rich," rejoined Mrs. Bird; "and it is for that reason I wish to do all that I can for him. If I can keep him with me, and give him a good education, it may be greatly for his advantage; there may be a great change in public sentiment before he is a man—we cannot say what opening there may be for him in the future."

"Not unless it changes very much. I never knew prejudice more rampant than it is at this hour. To get the boy admitted as a right is totally out of the question: if he is received at all, it will be as a special favour, and a favour which—I am sure it will require all my influence to obtain. I will set about it immediately, and, rely upon it, I will do my best for your protege."

Satisfied with the promise, which was as much as Mrs. Bird had dared to hope for, she called Charlie, then shook hands with Mr. Whately and departed.