Well, of course, I can’t tell you all that happened to these little girls. I have tried to give you some idea of how they lived in their Mississippi home, and I hope you have been amused and entertained; and now as “Diddie” said about her book, I’ve got to “wind up,” and tell you what became of them.
The family lived happily on the plantation until the war broke out in 1861.
Then Major Waldron clasped his wife to his heart, kissed his daughters, shook hands with his faithful slaves, and went as a soldier to Virginia; and he is sleeping now on the slope of Malvern Hill, where he
“Nobly died for Dixie.”
The old house was burned during the war, and on the old plantation where that happy home once stood there are now three or four chimneys and an old tumbled-down gin-house. That is all.
The agony of those terrible days of war, together with the loss of her husband and home, broke the heart and sickened the brain of Mrs. Waldron; and in the State Lunatic Asylum is an old white-haired woman, with a weary, patient look in her eyes, and this gentle old woman, who sits day after day just looking out at the sunshine and the flowers, is the once beautiful “mamma” of Diddie, Dumps and Tot.
Diddie grew up to be a very pretty, graceful woman, and when the war began was in her eighteenth year. She was engaged to one of the young men in the neighborhood; and though she was so young, her father consented to the marriage, as her lover was going into the army, and wanted to make her his wife before leaving. So, early in ’61, before Major Waldron went to Virginia, there was a quiet wedding in the parlor one night; and not many days afterwards the young Confederate soldier donned his gray coat, and rode away with Forrest’s Cavalry.
“And ere long a messenger came,
Bringing the sad, sad story—
A riderless horse: a funeral march:
Dead on the field of glory!”
After his death her baby came to gladden the young widow’s desolate life; and he is now almost grown, handsome and noble, and the idol of his mother.
Diddie is a widow still. She was young and pretty when the war ended, and has had many offers of marriage; but a vision of a cold white face, with its fair hair dabbled in blood, is ever in her heart. So Diddie lives for her boy. Their home is in Natchez now; for of course they could never live in the old place any more. When the slaves were free, they had no money to rebuild the houses, and the plantation has never been worked since the war.
The land is just lying there useless, worthless; and the squirrels play in and out among the trees, and the mocking-birds sing in the honeysuckles and magnolias and rose-bushes where the front yard used to be.
And at the quarters, where the happy slave-voices used to sing “Monkey Motions,” and the merry feet used to dance to “Cotton-eyed Joe,” weeds and thick underbrush have all grown up, and partridges build their nests there; and sometimes, at dusk, a wild-cat or a fox may be seen stealing across the old playground.
Tot, long years ago, before the war even, when she was yet a pure, sinless little girl, was added to that bright band of angel children who hover around the throne of God; and so she was already there, you see, to meet and welcome her “papa” when his stainless soul went up from Malvern Hill.
Well, for “Mammy” and “Daddy Jake” and “Aunt Milly” and “Uncle Dan’l,” “dat angel” has long since “blowed de horn,” and I hope and believe they are happily walking “dem golden streets” in which they had such implicit faith, and of which they never wearied of telling.
And the rest of the negroes are all scattered; some doing well, some badly; some living, some dead. Aunt Sukey’s Jim, who married Candace that Christmas-night, is a politician. He has been in Legislature, and spends his time in making long and exciting speeches to the loyal leaguers against the Southern whites, all unmindful of his happy childhood, and of the kind and generous master who strove in every way to render his bondage (for which that master was in no way to blame) a light and happy one.
Uncle Snake-bit Bob is living still. He has a little candy-store in a country town. He does not meddle with politics. He says, “I don’t cas’ my suffrins fur de Dimercracks, nur yit fur de ’Publicans. I can’t go ’ginst my color by votin’ de Dimercrack papers; an’ ez fur dem ’Publicans! Well, ole Bob he done hyear wat de Book say ’boutn publicans an’ sinners, an’ dat’s ernuff fur him. He’s er gittin’ uperds in years now; pretty soon he’ll hatter shove off fur dat ‘heb’nly sho’,” an’ wen de Lord sen’ atter him, he don’t want dat angel ter catch him in no kinwunshuns ’long wid ’publicans an’ sinners.’” And so Uncle Bob attends to his store, and mends chairs and tubs, and deals extensively in chickens and eggs; and perhaps he is doing just as well as if he were in Congress.
Dilsey and Chris and Riar are all women now, and are all married and have children of their own; and nothing delights them more than to tell their little ones what “us an’ de white chil’en usen ter do.”
And the last I heard of Aunt Nancy, the “tender,” she was going to school, but not progressing very rapidly. She did learn her letters once, but, having to stop school to make a living, she soon forgot them, and she explained it by saying:
“Yer see, honey, dat man wat larnt me dem readin’s, he wuz sich er onstedfus’ man, an’ gittin’ drunk, an’ votin’ an’ sich, tell I furgittin’ wat he larnt me; but dey’s er colored gemman fum de Norf wat’s tuck him up er pay-school ober hyear in de ’catermy, an’ ef’n I kin git him fur ter take out’n his pay in dat furmifuge wat I makes, I ’low ter go ter him er time er two, caze he’s er membah ub de Zion Chu’ch, an’ er mighty stedfus’ man, an’ dat wat he larns me den I’ll stay larnt.”
And Dumps? Well, the merry, lighthearted little girl is an “old maid” now; and if Mammy could see her, she would think she was “steady” enough at last.
Somebody, you know, must attend to the wants and comforts of the gray-haired woman in the asylum; and Diddie had her boy to support and educate, so Dumps teaches school and takes care of her mother, and is doing what Uncle Snake-bit Bob told the Sunday-school children that God had made them to do; for
Dumps is doing “DE BES’ SHE KIN.”
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