CHAPTER II.

ANOTHER LETTER, MY DEAR sister, and still from Norfolk. It was useless to set out without the expected epistles to identify me, in case of need; and they only arrived this morning. Then came the great and important question of how, and by what manner, I was to proceed to my journey’s end. It was one which I gave no heed to till this morning—an old habit of mine, by the way; for I fear my mind is somewhat discursive, and rambles about important points, to amuse itself on the outskirts of the question. No stage was to be had to the point which I wished to reach—no steam-boat, because it is far inland—no blessed post-horses, for those much enduring animals are unknown in this country; and there were only two resources: what they call here a buggy—that is to say, a rumbling, generally ill conditioned vehicle, with either one or two half-starved nags, for the hire of which one is charged the most extortionate price—or the old-fashioned mode of locomotion on a horse’s back. I determined upon the latter resource; but upon going to a livery stable in the neighbourhood of the inn, I saw a collection of animals so miserable and forlorn, that I doubted much whether any one of them would reach the end of the journey without falling to pieces. Moreover, my good friend, the proprietor, made considerable difficulty as to hiring them out for so long a journey, and gave me clearly to understand that he should consider he was doing me a great favour if he acceded at all. Not wishing to lay myself under an obligation to this very independent gentleman, I walked away, determined to fall back upon the buggy, and to get my new friend Mr. Wheatley, to undertake the negotiation for me; for I somewhat feared that my temper, though I believe a tolerably good one, might break down under similar discussions. On going back to the inn, in order to send him a note, and finding my worthy acquaintance, Zedekiah Jones, standing at the door, I inquired of him, casually, if there were no other place than the one to which I had been directed where I could hire a horse. He grinned, and shook his head; but remarked, that I could buy plenty of very good horses if I wanted one to purchase. He knew of two, he said, which had come into town two days before, fresh and well-conditioned, and a capital match.

“But I only want one, my good friend,” I replied.

“What horse carry your baggage, den, massa?” asked the man, with his usual grin. This was a new view of the case, which I had not thought of.

“But if I buy, or hire, two horses,” I said, “who is to ride the other, Master Zedekiah?”

“Old Zed ride t’other,” answered the negro, chuckling as if he were going into convulsions; “best groom you ever have. All my life with horses till I break my leg, when that damn horse came down with me at Richmond races. My gorry! I’d be glad to get upon a horse’s back again. Old Zed ride t’other, massa, and take care of both—and you too.” And he exploded again right joyfully. To shorten my story, there was something so amusing in the man’s merriment, and so straightforward and good-humoured in his way, that if I had ever had any starch or stiffness in my nature, it would have been all relaxed and melted out. Putting aside all question of oddity, or absurdity, I said to myself—

“I will buy the horses, and I’ll hire old Zed, if the landlady is willing to part with him. Sterne hired La Fleur much after the same fashion, and for the same qualities. We’ll march off together seeking adventures. I’ll be Don Quixote, and he shall be Sancho Panza. Not a windmill have I seen in the country as yet; but, doubtless, we shall find something that will do quite as well.” The whole business was soon settled. The landlady was charitably glad that old Zed had got a good place, for she said she employed the poor creature more from charity than anything else; and, after ordering him a decent suit of apparel, and buying two pairs of capacious saddle bags, we proceeded to the stable where the horses were to be seen. They were very handsome beasts, and seemed sound wind and limb; and though the price was very high, I concluded the bargain for them rapidly, which I imagine produced greater respect for my purse than for my person; and thus, my dear girl, I shall set out to-morrow, mounted and squired, though I have not yet got my lance or shield, nor the helmet of Mambrino. On my return to the inn, I found Mr. Wheatley waiting for me, and told him what I had done.

“Bravo!” he said; “true Virginian style. But have you got a large pair of plated spurs? otherwise you won’t pass current. Never mind; I’ll supply you. I bought half a dozen pair when I first came to this state, and they have served as my introduction to the best society ever since. But let me give you a hint or two before you go. There are a thousand chances to one that you may miss your way, unless your friend Zed has a very general knowledge of the country. Do not, however, let that trouble you. Wherever you see a house, and it is convenient to stop, pull down the fence, and ride straight at it. You will find a hearty welcome. The Virginians are the most hospitable people upon earth, and their houses have the faculty of stretching to an inconceivable extent. As for food, you will always find, if nothing else, good ham, fried chickens, eggs, and butter; often a capital bottle of wine; and though, in the towns, men may think they are conferring a favour upon you by selling you the merest trifle in which it is their business to deal, at an exorbitant price—in the country they will think you are conferring a favour by taking whatever they have to give for nothing. The fact is, this exaggerated tone of indifference and independence in the store-keepers is only assumed as a balm to their vanity, a little wounded at having to sell anything. Every man of them fancies himself to be a member of the first families in Virginia, and would fain have his horses and hounds, and his score or two of negroes. Not having them, he is anxious to make himself believe, and to persuade others, that he only buys and sells for his own amusement, and does not care ninepence whether people take his wares or not.” I believe there is a great deal of truth in this view of the subject. Whether Mr. Wheatley has given me as correct a picture of the Virginian country gentlemen or not, remains to be proved; at all events his advice, in many respects, may be valuable, and he has added to it three or four letters which I think may be found of service.

“The squire, the parson, the lawyer, and the inn-keeper,” he said, “are great people in their way. I know them all in the direction in which you tell me you are bending your steps.”

“But, perhaps,” said I–- Before I could conclude, he interrupted me with his peculiar, short, quick laugh—always broken off suddenly, as if it were cut through in the middle, saying—

“I understand; you may not wish to have any trumpets blown before you. You may like to go quietly about whatever business you have to do. I saw that your carpet bag had no name on it, and therefore, of course, I asked the captain who you were, whence you came, whither you were going, and everything about you, in the true Yankee spirit. My dear sir, there is no such thing as secresy in this country. Every man knows everybody else’s business much better than his own. It is a great deal worse in the East, that is true; and I have known one of my fellow-countrymen pursue a silent and reserved traveller through two long days’ journey—quite out of his way too—simply because he knew he should never have a moment’s peace for the rest of his life if he did not find out all about him. At last, the unfortunate traveller was obliged to open out and tell him the whole story—true or false I do not know—merely to be quit of him. However, I will write the letters for you, and you can deliver them or not, as you like; but mind, I tell you fairly, you can’t conceal yourself. In this part of the country, the negroes do all the work in the way of inquisitiveness, which we Yankees do with our own tongues. There is nothing ever hidden from a negro; and the moment he or she knows it, every person of the same colour knows it throughout the whole town, and from them it gets to the masters and mistresses. If ever a young gentleman kisses a young lady behind the door, you may be quite sure there is a black eye looking through a chink; and then it is, ‘Lors a marcy, Miss Jemima! what do you tink? Massa John kiss Miss Jane behind de door.’ Then Miss Jemima runs to Aunty Sal, and exclaims, ‘Lors a marcy!’ too, and Aunty Sal tells it to Mammy Kate, and Mammy Kate tells it to her dearly-beloved nursling, Miss Betty, who sends it round through all the kith and kin of the parties concerned. Do you see that black man walking along, who has just been talking to your friend Zed? He knows all about you at this present moment.

“Yes, I see him,” answered I, “the man carrying the sucking pig, you mean?”

“Pardon me; that is not a sucking pig,” answered Mr. Wheatley; “that is helotice, a possum—anglice, an opossum; no bad dish let me tell you, and one of which the negroes are very fond. But this is not the season for them. After the persimons are ripe, they get exceedingly fat and tender.”

“And what are persimons?” I asked.

“A sort of wild fruit,”...