# Old Ninety-Nine's Cave/Chapter 2

CHAPTER II
John De Vere was born on a farm at Greenmeadow, New York. His grandfather, Benoni De Vere, came from Tarrytown to Greenmeadow in 1796 and was the first settler there.
John's father was a representative of the sturdy men of those stirring times and his mother was a woman of great strength of character. Nine children were reared in a veritable wilderness and their destinies were governed by the restrictions of the times. Six days of the week were spent in hard labor on the farm and the seventh lived in John's memory as a horrible dream. On this day, winter and summer, instead of five they arose at six o'clock. Milking and breakfast over, the whole family repaired to the parlor for family prayers, which ceremony lasted an hour. They then hurried off to church where for two mortal hours the good dominie ​preached Calvinism unabridged. Woe to the culprit who fidgeted or betrayed any lack of interest, and John sat on those hard seats without moving a muscle until his bones ached.
Relatives and friends usually dined with them on Sunday and the children "waited." After the sermon in all its bearings had been discussed, the sweetmeats and tea—which appeared on company days—were sparingly dealt out to the children and they took what else remained on the table, John inwardly vowing that when he grew up, he would have all the sweetmeats and tea he wanted.
Pilgrim's Progress, Baxter's Saints Everlasting Rest, Fox's Book of Martyrs and the Bible were the only books allowed, and a funereal atmosphere pervaded everything. When the guests left and the chores were done, the children went to bed thankful for the Sunday less.
Naturally a student, John worked hard, saved his money, studied every spare moment of his time and eventually was graduated with honors from Union College; then, broken in ​health, he went South to accept the Chair of Ancient Languages at Vicksburg College, Vicksburg, Mississippi, where he met and married Miss Bessie Ragsdale, a beautiful southern girl and an heiress; meantime pursuing the study of law and was admitted to the bar of that State two years after his arrival there.
In the sunny South on the bank of "The Father of Waters," their life was a poet's dream, "Where the sweet magnolia blossoms grew as white as snow, and they never thought that sorrow, grief nor pain would come." True, there were mutterings of war, but none believed they would amount to anything, and when the firing on Fort Sumpter was heralded abroad people said it would be a short war. After the secession of Mississippi and the formal election of Jefferson Davis as President of the Southern Confederacy, the defeat of Commodore Montgomery at Memphis, its occupation by the Union forces, and the concentration of forces upon Vicksburg, they knew then that war in all its horrors ​was upon them. This last Confederate stronghold on the Mississippi which had refused to surrender to Farragut's fleet was strongly fortified. General Grant's attempt to change the channel of the river, leaving Vicksburg some distance back, had failed, and the people were still confident until he attacked them from the rear. The railroads were destroyed and for six weeks the city was cannonaded unceasingly night and day. The siege of Vicksburg was John De Vere's last picture of Mississippi; the city battered to pieces, the streets red with blood, two gallant young Confederate officers shot dead at his door, his home in ruins.
Hearing that he was about to be pressed into the Southern Army, he managed, through the influence of his wife's family, to get on board a boat bound for St. Louis, taking what little money he could scrape together. His wife and children with the faithful Reuben and Margaret joined him the next morning and they started for the last-named city where he hoped to earn enough to take him North.
​Will he ever forget that sail up the mighty stream so full of snags and timber from the far North? That river which has played so important a part in the destiny of our nation? In 1542, its muddy waters received the fever-racked body of its discoverer. Down this stream came Marquette with his devoted Canadian followers in their birch-bark canoes, "ready to seek new nations towards the South Sea who are still unknown to us, and to teach them of our God." LaSalle, Iberville, Bienville and many others floated before his mental vision. The levees, which were built before each river plantation by the owners' slaves, were simply artificial mud-banks sometimes strengthened by ribs of timber and sometimes not. These answered very well so long as kept in repair. An unusual flood, of course, was apt to destroy them, but slave labor was cheap. Mr. De Vere noted with dismay their present neglected condition. The largest and most substantial was the one over Yazoo Pass twelve miles above Vicksburg; but this was in bad shape, and he ​pictured the wholesale destruction which would follow the inevitable spring flood, and the dank pools left by the receding waters, filling the air with deadly miasma.
On the fourth day of their journey they reached St. Louis. Mr. McElwee, a member of the "Christian Commission," which did such noble work in the armies, offered them the shelter of his home until work could be found and they gratefully accepted his offer. He used his influence and one day Thomas Murphy from a settlement near Lake Crevecœur, about thirteen miles west of St. Louis, offered Mr. De Vere the position of teacher in their school at a salary of fifty dollars per month and the use of a log house belonging to him. Autumn found them installed in their new quarters. Mrs. De Vere, accustomed to every luxury, yet accepted her lot uncomplainingly; and with the assistance of Reuben and Margaret the rude house was made to appear quite home-like. It consisted of two rooms, a living-room and a sleeping-room. Mr. and Mrs. De Vere and the children ​occupied the latter, and all that the bed would not hold were stored away on the floor. Reuben and Margaret slept on the floor of the living-room.
Time passed more quickly than they feared it would. Christmas came and went, but Mr. De Vere's step was not so springy as formerly. His head ached continually and memory failed. All night long he tossed and moaned but stern duty demanded his services and when morning came he sought the school-house tired in mind and body. No butter nor milk; coarse corn bread, sweet potatoes and pork constituted their daily fare, but no one complained. Coffee at twenty dollars a pound was not to be thought of and they all declared corn coffee delicious.
One morning immediately after school was called and the arithmetic class was on the floor, for no apparent reason, Mr. De Vere dismissed them. This he did three times in succession, and each time a general titter went round. Suddenly Elisha Vedder, a great lubberly fellow, rose to his feet and in ​a ringing voice said, "Shame, you cowards! Don't you see that our teacher is a sick man?" Then going up to Mr. De Vere, he said: "Mr. De Vere, your wife is not very well and wants you to come home with me, and George Murphy will bring the doctor"; at the same time putting on his own and his teacher's hat. Mr. De Vere leaned heavily upon him, and when they reached the house he fell on the bed, too sick to undress. No doctor lived nearer than St. Louis, but George Murphy on Elisha's mare was flying like the wind after one, and by evening, when the doctor arrived, Mr. De Vere was raving in delirium. After a short examination and a few intelligent questions, Dr. Hoff, the physician summoned, took Mrs. De Vere aside and said, "I need not question further, the diagnosis is clear. It is typhoid and about the end of the second week. An ordinary man would have added to his chances for recovery by having spent the time in bed. Though a very sick man, I trust that we may be able to pull him through. Who is to help you?"
​Reuben, who had been stationed near his master's bed, caught the last words and exclaimed, "Who but me, Massa?"
Eyeing him critically, the doctor said: "Ever had any experience in fevers?"
"Yes, Massa. Yaller Jack, break bone, intermittent, remittent, congestive, typhoid, small pox—"
"I reckon you have then," returned the doctor. "Where were you raised?"
"New Orleans, Massa."
"Ever worked in the charity hospital there?"
"Law me, Massa, I has so!"
Doctor Hoff looked satisfied, and after giving careful directions left, promising to come the next day.
Needless to dwell on the anxious weeks to follow. Reuben never left his post, faithfully recording every symptom even when others would gladly have relieved him. His black lips were almost constantly moving in prayer and who shall say that they did not penetrate to the "Throne of Grace." At last the change came and when Doctor Hoff ​paid his next visit, he grasped those black hands and in a tone of profound respect said: "Reuben, your master will live and you, not I, have saved his life."
Falling on his knees, Reuben poured forth his soul in an earnest prayer. Unconsciously, the doctor knelt beside him, bowing his head on those faithful black shoulders, and the man of science and the descendant of Ham were one in the presence of their Maker. A silence as of death followed and then a voice low and sweet, but trembling with emotion, came from the doorway:
The dim morning light, with the stars still twinkling in the heavens, the rude log house in a strange country,—the picture is not soon forgotten.
How the tedious weeks of convalescence were brightened by those honest people. They could not do enough and blamed themselves for former neglect. Delicacies from ​down the river came by the basketful; fruits from New Orleans, fresh vegetables, tender chickens and everything which kind hearts could suggest and ingenuity procure. Elisha Vedder was untiring and his horse always at their disposal.
Letters from Greenmeadow contained sad news. Mr. De Vere's brother had been severely wounded in the battle of Gettysburg and many dear to him were fighting for their country. His mother could not become reconciled to the fact that her son had married what she termed a "Creole."
It was April now and although Mr. De Vere had not taught school since February, the kind people of Crevecœur insisted on paying his salary, and the family were preparing to leave for the North. At Nootwyck, New York, was a good opening for a lawyer, and Andrew Genung, president of the savings bank there, had written him urging him to come; and only too glad to do so, Mr. De Vere answered saying that he would start in April. Now that the time had come to say good-bye ​to these more than friends, his heart failed him. Doctor Hoff and Elisha Vedder had particularly endeared themselves to him and though neither of them would accept a cent of remuneration, he exacted a promise that if he could ever serve them in any way, they would let him know.
The morning they left, the whole neighborhood assembled to see them off. Mrs. Murphy had provided a generous lunch-basket and her eyes were red with weeping. Mr. Murphy clumsily concealed his sorrow and Elisha Vedder was nowhere to be seen, but Reuben's diligent search disclosed him behind the house, shaking with ill-suppressed emotion.
"Now, Massa 'Lish, don't give way to idle grief. Jes' run along and saddle Jinnie. Massa Murphy wants you to lead the way."
Elisha obeyed willingly, and after a tearful parting and promises to write often, they were off. No one seemed inclined to talk. Nothing but the rolling Missouri broke the stillness. Their way led along its banks and in sight of Lake Crevecœur, and the mocking​
A little after noon they reached St. Louis where they were met by Doctor Hoff, and after again and again thanking him for all his kindness, the De Veres said good-bye to Missouri and soon were speeding northward.
Mr. De Vere's brother-in-law, Peter Brown, met them at a hamlet west of the Shawangunks which they had crossed by stage from Middleburgh, bundled them into his great wagon, cracked his whip over his horses' heads and in a little over an hour set them down at his home in Greenmeadow. Oh, that welcome home! Can words describe it? Dear old mother, with her silver hair, forgot all differences and the welcome accorded her 'baby's' wife made Bessie feel that she was one of them in very truth.
Peter Brown was a generous provider, ​but to-day his table groaned under its weight of good things. Such deliciously sweet white bread and butter, steaming roast chickens, cranberries; and with appetites whetted by their ride over the hills, the hungry wayfarers did ample justice to everything.
Bessie's sweet ways won the love of all, and when John told that, but for her, his heart many times would have failed, how she had lost everything and used all her influence to prevent his being forced into the Confederate service, their glowing eyes expressed the welcome addition she was.
The children were duly admired and all points of resemblance settled. John De Vere's mother positively detested negroes, regarding them as all alike, and as a race of filthy, lying, lazy thieves. This condition, of course, was due to the system of slavery, but Reuben and Margaret's devotion was regarded by her as a special dispensation of Providence and her heart went out to them.
Anxious to be up and doing, John De Vere made arrangements to begin at once in his ​new field of labor, and another month found them comfortably settled at Nootwyck. It was a fortunate time. The village was being boomed by "The Consolidated Iron-Mining Company" which employed several hundred men. The town had been bonded for the Valley Railroad and the route surveyed. Prospects were good, for with this valley opened up to the outside world, its wonderful resources would be developed.
But oh, the uncertainty of human plans! Fifteen years had passed; the iron mine had long since shut down; the coal mine was unsteady and the Valley Railroad, after tunneling the mountain, penetrated to Elmdale—a short distance south of Nootwyck—and stopped. People along the promised line were powerless, and with the apathy born of repeated disappointments, they submitted to the inevitable.