After dinner, Jeb Stuart succeeded in separating Mary from Phil andbegan again his adoration. The men adjourned to the library to discussthe Presidential Campaign and weigh the chances of General Scott againstFranklin Pierce. The comment of Toombs was grim in its sarcasm and earlylet him out of the discussion.
"It doesn\'t matter in the least, gentlemen, who is elected in November,"he observed. "There\'s nothing before the country as yet. Not even anhonest-to-God man."Lee shook his head gravely.
Toombs parried his protest.
"I know, Colonel Lee, you\'re fond of the old General. You fought withhim in Mexico. But--" he dropped his voice to a friendly whisper--"allthe same, you know that what I say is true."He took a cigar from the mantel, lighted it and waved to the group.
"I\'ll take a little stroll and smoke."Custis took Phil to the cottage of the foreman to see a night school insession.
"You mean the overseer\'s place?" Phil asked eagerly, as visions of SimonLegree flashed through his mind.
"No--I mean Uncle Ike\'s cottage. He\'s the foreman of the farm. We haveno white overseer."Phil was shocked. He had supposed every Southern plantation had a whiteoverseer as slave driver with a blacksnake whip in his hand. A negroforeman was incredible. As a matter of fact there were more negroforemen than white overseers in the South.
In Uncle Ike\'s cottage by the light of many candles the school for boyswas in session. Custis\' brother "Rooney," was the teacher. He had sixpupils besides Sam. Not one of them knew his lesson to-night and Rooneywas furious.
As Phil and Custis entered, he was just finishing a wrathful lecture.
His pupils were standing in a row grinning their apologies.
"I\'ve told you boys for the last three weeks that I won\'t stand this.
You don\'t have to go to school to me if you don\'t want to. But if youjoin my school you\'ve got to study. Do you hear me?""Yassah!" came the answer in solid chorus.
"Well, you\'ll do more than hear me to-night. You\'re going to heed what Isay. I\'m going to thrash the whole school."Sam broke into a loud laugh. And a wail of woe came from every duskyfigure.
"Dar now!""Hear dat, folks--?""I been a tellin\' ye chillun--""I lubs my spellin\' book--but, oh, dat hickory switch!""Oh, Lordy--""Gib us anudder chance, Marse Rooney!""Not another chance," was the stern answer. "Lay off your coats."They began to peel their coats. Big, strapping, husky fellows nudgingone another and grinning at their fourteen-year-old schoolmaster. It wasno use to protest.
They knew they deserved it. A whipping was one of the minor misfortunesof life. Its application was universal. No other method of disciplinehad yet been dreamed by the advanced thinkers and rulers of the world.
"Spare the rod and spoil the child" was accepted as the Word of God andonly a fool could doubt it. The rod was the emblem of authority forchild, pupil, apprentice and soldier. The negro slave as a workman gotless of it than any other class. It was the rule of a Southern masternever to use the rod on a slave except for crime if it could be avoided.
To flog one for laziness was the exception, not the rule.
The old Virginia gentleman prided himself particularly on the tendernessand care with which he guarded the life of his servants. If the weatherwas cold and his men exposed, he waited to see that they had dry clothesand a warm drink before they went to bed. He never failed to rememberthat his white skin could endure more than their sunburned dark ones.
The young school-teacher had no scruples on applying the rod. Heselected his switches with care, and tested their strength andflexibility while he gave the bunch a piece of his mind.
"What do you think I\'m coming down here every night for, anyhow?" hestormed.
"Lordy, Marse Rooney," Sam pleaded, "doan we all pay you fur ourschoolin\'?""Yes, you do when I can manage to choke it out of you. One dozen eggs amonth or one pullet every two months. And I don\'t even ask you where yougot the eggs or the pullet.""Marse Rooney!" protested Sam. "Yer know we gets \'em outen our own yardser buys \'em from de servants.""I hope you do. Though my mother says she don\'t know how we eat so manychickens and eggs at the house. Anyhow I\'m not here because I\'m going toget rich on the tuition you pay me. I\'m not here for my health. I\'m herefrom a sense of duty to you boys--""Yassah, we know dat, sah!""Give us annuder chance an\' we sho\' study dem lessons--""I gave you another chance the last time. I\'ll try a little hickory teathis time."He began at the end of the line and belabored each one faithfully. Theyshouted in mockery and roared with laughter, scampered over the room anddodged behind chairs and tables.
Phil fairly split his sides laughing.
When the fun was over, they drew close to their teacher and promisedfaithfully to have every word of the next lesson. They nudged each otherand whispered their jokes about the beating.
"Must er bin er flea bitin\' me!""I felt sumfin. Don\'t \'zactly know what it wuz. Mebbe a chigger!""Must er been a flea. Hit bit me, too!"Sam tried to redeem himself for failing on his lessons in arithmetic.
He had long ago learned to read and write and had asked for a course inhistory. The young teacher had given him a copy of _Gulliver\'s Travels_.
"Look a here, Marse Rooney, I been a readin\' dat book yer gimme--""Well, that\'s good.""Yer say dat book\'s history?""Well, it\'s what we call fiction, but I think fiction\'s the very besthistory we can read. It may not have happened just that way but it\'strue all the same.""Well, ef hit nebber happened, I dunno \'bout dat," Sam objected. "I beensuspicionin\' fer a long time dat some o\' dem things that Gulliver saynebber happen nohow.""You read it," the teacher ordered.
"Yassah, I sho gwine ter read it, happen er no happen. Glory be ter God.
Just \'cause yer tells me, sah!"