The next morning found Phil walking again between the white, clean rowsof the quarter houses. He was always finding something to interest him.
Every yard had its gorgeous red autumn flowers. Some of them hadroses in bloom. The walks from the gate to the door were edged withwhite-washed bricks or conch shells. The conch shells were souvenirs ofsummer outings at the seashore.
In the corner of the back yard there was the tall pole on which werehung five or six dried gourds with tiny holes cut in the sides for themartins. And every gourd had its black family. The martins were theguardians of the servants\' chicken yards. The hawks were numerous andthe woods close to the quarters. Few chickens were lost by hawks. Themartins circled the skies in battalions, watching, chattering, guarding,basking in the southern sun.
At noon the assembly bell rang at the end of the Broadway of thequarters. From every cottage, from field and stable, blacksmith shop,carpenter\'s shop, the house of the spinners, the weavers, the dairy, thenegroes poured toward the shed beside the bell tower.
"What is it?" Phil asked of Custis.
"Saturday noon. All work stops.""My Lord, it\'s been raining nearly all morning. The field hands haven\'tworked a lick all day. Do they stop, too?""It\'s the unwritten law of the South. We would no more think of workingon Saturday afternoon than on Sunday.""What are they gathering under that shed for?" Phil inquired.
Custis led him to the shed where Ike, the foreman, stood with Mrs. Leebeside a long table on which were piled the provisions for the week tofollow.
The negroes laughed and chattered like a flock of blackbirds pickinggrain in a wheat field. To each head of a family was given six poundsof meat for each person. A father, mother and two children receivedtwenty-four pounds. Their bread was never rationed. The barrel in eachcottage was filled from the grist mill, a bag full at a time. They hadtheir own garden and flocks of chickens. Sugar, coffee and molasses weregiven on the first of each month.
"Come right back here now all ob you!" Ike shouted, "des ez quick ez yerput yo vittles away. De Missis gwine gib ye yo\' winter close now, caseshe gwine ter Wes\' Pint next week."The provisions were swept from the long table. Out of the storehousecame huge piles of clothing and blankets. Each package was marked withthe owner\'s name.
To each pair, man and wife, or two children, was given a new woolblanket. This was, of course, added to the stock each house had already.
A woolen blanket was good for ten years\' wear. Many a servant\'s househad a dozen blankets for each bed. Besides the blankets, to every womanwith a baby was given a quilted comfort.
To each man, woman and child were allotted two complete woolen suits forthe winter, a new pair of shoes and three pairs of stockings. In thespring two suits of cotton would be given for summer. The thrifty oneshad their cedar chests piled with clothes. Many had not worn the suitsgiven out a year ago.
The heads of large families trudged away with six or seven blankets,a comfort, and twenty suits of clothes. It sometimes took the father,mother and two of the children to carry the load.
But the most amazing thing which Phil saw was the sudden transformationof the shed into a market for the sale of slave produce to the mistressof Arlington.
Mrs. Lee had watched the distribution of clothes, blankets, quilts,shoes and stockings for the winter and then became the purchaser of allsorts of little luxuries which the slave had made in his leisure hourson Saturday afternoons and at night. The little boys and girls soldher dried wild fruits. The women had made fine jellies. They all hadchickens and eggs to sell to the big house. Some had become experts inmaking peanut brittle and fudge.
They not only sold their wares here, but they also sold them in themarket in Washington. The old men were expert basket and broom makers.
The slaves made so much extra money on their chickens, peanuts, popcorn,fudge, brittle, molasses cakes, baskets, brooms, mats and taking insewing, that they were able to buy many personal luxuries. Phil observedone dusky belle already arrayed in a silk dress for the Saturdayafternoon outing with her beau. A few of them had their Sunday dressesmade by fashionable mantua makers in Washington.
In addition to the regular distribution of clothing, the householdsupplied to the servants in rapid succession everything worn by master,mistress, son or daughter. Knowing that their clothes were being watchedand guarded by longing eyes, they never wore them very long. Mary Leewas distributing a dozen dresses now to the girls. They had been madewithin the past year.
Phil observed Sam arrayed in a swallowtail coat of immaculate cut strollby with his best girl. She was dressed in silk with full hoop-skirts,ruffles, ribbons and flowers.
Sid annoyed Sam by calling loudly:
"Doan yer stay too late ter dat party. Ef ye do I\'ll hatter sing furye--  "Run, nigger, run, de patterole ketch you.
  Nigger run, de nigger flew,  De nigger loss his best ole shoe!
  Run, nigger, run. Run, nigger, run. Run, nigger, run."Sam waved his arm in a long laugh.
"Dey won\'t git me, chile. I\'se er conjur man, I is!"Phil had supposed the patrol of the mysterious mounted police of theSouth--the men who rode at night--were to the slave always a tragicterror.
It seemed a thing for joke and ribald song.
After lunch, the negroes entered on the afternoon\'s fun or work. Theindustrious ones plied their trades to earn money for luxuries. The boyswho loved to fish and hunt rabbits hurried to the river and the fields.
There was always a hound at their service for a rabbit hunt on Saturdayafternoons. Some were pitching horse shoes. Two groups began to playmarbles.
The marketing done for the house, the mistress of Arlington, withmedicine case in hand, started on her round of healing for body andmind. Mary offered to go with her but the mother saw Stuart hoveringabout and quietly answered:
"No. You can comfort poor Jeb. He looks disconsolate."Into every cottage she moved, a quiet, ministering angel. Every hope andfear of ailing young or old found in her an ear to hear, a heart to pityand an arm to save.
If she found a case of serious illness, a doctor was called and a nurseset to watch by the bedside. Every delicacy and luxury the big househeld was at the command of the sufferer and that without stint.
In all these clean flower-set cottages there was not a single crippledservant maimed in the service of his master. No black man or woman wasallowed to do dangerous work. All dangerous tasks were done by hiredwhite laborers. They were hired by the day under contract through theirboss. Even ditches on the farm if they ran through swamp lands infestedby malaria, were dug by white hired labor. The master would not permithis slave to take such risks.
But the most important ministry of the mistress of Arlington was in themedicine for the soul which she brought to the life and character ofeach servant for whose training she had accepted responsibility.
To her even the master proudly and loyally yielded authority. Her swayover the servants was absolute in its spiritual power. Into their soulsin hours of trial she poured the healing and inspiration of a beautifulspirit. The mistress of Arlington was delicate and frail in body. Butout of her physical suffering the spirit rose to greater heights witheach day\'s duty and service.
This mysterious power caught the warm imagination of the negroes. Theywere "servants" to others. They were her _slaves_ and they rejoicedin the bond that bound them. They knew that her body had no rest frommorning until far into the hours of the night if one of her own neededcare. The master could shift his responsibility to a trained foreman.
No forewoman could take her place. To the whole scheme of life she gavestrength and beauty. The beat of her heart made its wheels go round.
The young Westerner studied her with growing admiration and pity. Shewas the mistress of an historic house. She was the manager of an estate.
She was the counselor of every man, woman and child in happiness or insorrow. She was an accomplished doctor. She was a trained nurse. Shetaught the hearts of men and women with a wisdom more profound andsearching than any preacher or philosopher from his rostrum. She hadmastered the art of dressmaking and the tailor\'s trade. She was anexpert housekeeper. She lived at the beck and call of all. She wasidolized by her husband. Her life was a supreme act of worship--adevotion to husband, children, friends, the poor, the slave that madeher a high-priestess of humanity.
The thing that struck Phil with terrific force was that this beautifuldelicate woman was the slave of slaves.
As a rule, they died young.
He began to wonder how a people of the intelligence of these proudwhite Southerners could endure such a thing as Slavery. Its waste, itsextravagance, its burdens were beyond belief.
He laughed when he thought of his mother crying over _Uncle Tom\'sCabin_. Yet a new edition of a hundred thousand copies had just comefrom the press.
Early Sunday morning Custis asked him to go down to the quarters to seeUncle Ben, the butler, who had not yet resumed his duties. He had sentan urgent message to his young master asking him to be kind enough tocall on Sunday. The message was so formal and reserved Custis knew itwas of more than usual importance.
They found the old man superintending a special breakfast of fried fishfor two little boys, neatly served at a table with spotless cloth.
Robbie and his friend, John Doyle, were eating the fish they had caughtwith Uncle Ben the day before. They were as happy as kings and talked offish and fishing with the unction of veteran sportsmen.
The greeting to Custis was profound in its courtesy and reverence.
He was the first born of the great house. He was, therefore, theprospective head of the estate. Jeffersonian Democrats had long agoabolished the old English law of primogeniture. But the idea was in theblood of the Virginia planter. The servants caught it as quickly as theycaught the other English traits of love of home, family, kin, the cultof leisure, the habit of Church, the love of country. It was not anaccident that the decisions of the courts of the Old South were quotedby English barristers and accepted by English judges as law. The CommonLaw of England was the law of Southern Seaboard States. It always hadbeen and it is to-day.
"How is you dis mornin\', Marse Custis?" Ben asked with a stately bow.
"Fine, Uncle Ben. I hope you\'re better?""Des tolerble, sah, des tolerble--" he paused and bowed to Phil. "An\'
dis is you\' school-mate at Wes\' Pint, dey tells me about?""Yes, Uncle," Phil answered.
"I\'se glad ter welcome yer ter Arlington, sah. And I\'se powerful sorryI ain\'t able ter be in de big house ter see dat yer git ebry thing termake yer happy, sah. Dese here young niggers lak Sam do pooty well. Butdey ain\'t got much sense, sah. And dey ain\'t got no unction\'tall. Dey dode best dey kin an\' dat ain\'t much.""Oh, I\'m having a fine time, Uncle Ben," Phil assured him.
"Praise de Lord, sah.""Sam told me you wanted to see me, Uncle Ben," Custis said.
"\'Bout sumfin mos\' particular, sah--""At your service."The old man waved to his wife to look after the boys\' breakfast.
"Pile dem fish up on der plates, Hannah. Fill \'em up--fill\'em up!""We\'re mos\' full now!" Robbie shouted.
"No we ain\'t," John protested. "I jis begun."Ben led the young master and his friend out the back door, past the longpile of cord wood, past the chicken yard to a strong box which he hadbuilt on tall legs under a mulberry tree. It was constructed of oak andthe neatly turned gable roof was covered with old tin carefully paintedwith three coats of red. A heavy hasp, staple and padlock held the soliddoor.
Ben fumbled in his pocket, drew forth his keys and opened it. The boxwas his fireproof and ratproof safe in which the old man kept hisvaluables. His money, his trinkets, his hammer and nails, augur andbits, screwdriver and monkeywrench. From the top shelf he drew a tincan. A heavy piece of linen tied with a string served as a cover.
He carefully untied the string in silence. He shook the can. The boyssaw that it was filled with salt of the coarse kind used to preservemeats.
Ben felt carefully in the salt, drew forth a shriveled piece of darkgristle, and held it up before his young master.
"Yer know what dat is, Marse Custis?"Custis shook his head.
From the old man\'s tones of deep emotion he knew the matter was serious.
He thought at once of the Hoodoo. But he could make out no meaning tothis bit of preserved flesh.
"Never saw anything like it.""Nasah. I spec yer didn\'t."Ben pushed the gray hair back from his left ear. He wore his hair drawnlow over the tips of his ears. It was a fad of his, which he neverallowed to lapse.
"See anything funny \'bout de top o\' dat year, sah?"Custis looked carefully.
"It looks shorter--""Hit\'s er lot shorter. De top ob hit\'s clean gone, sah. Dat\'s why Iallus combs my ha\'r down close over my years--"He paused and held up the piece of dried flesh.
"An\' dat\'s hit, sah.""A piece of your ear?""Hit sho is. Ye see, sah, a long time ergo when I wuz young an\' strongez er bull, one er dese here uppish niggers come ter our house drivin\'
a carriage frum Westover on de James, an\' \'gin ter brag \'bout his folksbein\' de bes\' blood er ole Virginia. An\' man I tells him sumfin. I tellsdat fool nigger dat de folks at Westover wuz des fair ter midlin. Dat_our_ folks wuz, an\' allus wuz, de very fust fambly o\' Virginy! I tellshim, dat Marse Robert\'s father was General Light Horse Harry Lee dathelp General Washington wid de Revolution. Dat he wuz de Govenor o\' oleVirginy. Dat he speak de piece at de funeral o\' George Washington, datwe all knows by heart, now--"\'Fust in war, fust in peace and fust in de hearts o\' his countrymen.\'
"I tells him dat Marse Robert\'s mother wuz a Carter. I tells him dat hecould count more dan one hundred gemmen his kin. Dat his folks allus hadbeen de very fust fambly in Virginy. I tells him dat he marry my Missis,de gran\' daughter o\' ole Gineral Washington his-salf--an\' en--"He paused.
"An\' den, what ye reckon dat fool nigger say ter me?""Couldn\'t guess.""He say General Washington nebber had no children. And den man, man,when he insult me lak dat, I jump on him lak a wil\' cat. We fought an\'
we fit. We fit an\' we fought. I got him down an\' bit one o\' his yearsclean off smooth wid his head. In de las\' clinch he git hol\' er my lefyear a\'fo\' I could shake him, he bit de top of hit off, sah. I got himby the froat an\' choke hit outen his mouf. And dar hit is, sah."He held up the dried piece of his ear reverently.
"And what do you want me to do with it, Uncle Ben?" Custis askedseriously.
"Nuttin right now, sah. But I ain\'t got long ter live--""Oh, you\'ll be well in a few days, Uncle Ben.""I mought an\' den agin I moughtent. I been lyin\' awake at night worryin\'
\'bout dat year o\' mine. Ye see hit wouldn\'t do tall fur me ter gowalkin\' dem golden streets up dar in Heben wid one o\' my years loppedoff lake a shoat er a calf dat\'s been branded. Some o\' dem niggersstandin\' on dat gol\' sidewalk would laugh at me. An\' dat would hurt myfeelin\'s. Some smart Aleck would be sho ter holler, \'Dar come ole Ben.
But he ain\'t got but one year!\' Dat wouldn\'t do, tall, sah."Phil bit his lips to keep from laughing. He saw the thing was no jokefor the old man. It was a grim tragedy.
"What I wants ter axe, Marse Custis, is dat you promise me faithful, ezmy young master, dat when I die you come to me, get dis year o\' mineouten dis salt box an\' stick hit back right whar it b\'long \'fore deynail me up in de coffin. I des can\'t \'ford ter walk down dem goldenstreets, \'fore all dat company, wid a piece er my year missin\'. Will yepromise me, sah?"Custis grasped the outstretched hand and clasped it.
"I promise you, Uncle Ben, faithfully.""Den hit\'s all right, sah. When a Lee make a promise, hit\'s des ez goodez done. I know dat case I know who I\'se er talkin\' to."He placed the piece of gristle back into the tin can, covered it withsalt, tied the linen cover over it carefully, put it back on the shelf,locked the heavy oak door and handed Custis the key.
"I got annudder key. You keep dat one, please, sah."Custis and Phil left the old man more cheerful than he had been fordays.