The Hickman courier. [volume] (Hickman, Ky.) 1859-current, 1876-08-25
4 NERO.


He didn's even in our own war. He
wasn't even man. "What was he
then?" somebody says.
Why, he was just a little black boy,
and he lived on cotton plantation. ten
miles down the river from Memphis, in
Tennessee, before the war.
A little girl twelve years old, kept q
journal the first winter she spent in the |
south. l was reading it over this morn
ing That is how / came to think of |
this story. Mamie shall tell it, as she
wrote it in her book, only first you'll
want to know what my hero was like.
His name was Sid, and he was foster
brother of Jesse's, Nannie's cousin.
Jesse was thirteen, and Sid year older.
He had the roundest, blacklist, merriest
face You ever saw, and he loved to play,
and ride, and swim, anything but work,
better than any boy you ever heard of,
and that is saying a good deal. He
could run faster, and stand on his head
longer, than any other boy. At last half
of the time was spent in working out
punishment for some piece of mischief
he had led the rest into but he would
stand on his head afterward. 'To let
his feelin's run in" he said, and was the
next minute ready for whatever came
next This Is what Mamie says:
1t did seem so funny when first 1 got
here. to have a little black girl always
to wait on me, upstairs and downstairs,
all over the plantation, and she even
sleeps curled up in a blanket on the floor
by my bed. Bell has one. and Bess too,
and Jesse and Ben have each little boys.
YOU can get used to anything, and now /
like Mollie very much. They play with
us, too. Uncle says that all the five
together are good for, is T. help on our
mischief, and l suppose we do a good
deal of that, at least aunt Sally, the
nurse, says eve are awful romps," and
haven't dress without a tare in it,
from climbing trees.
We have playhouse down by the
river. There is a bridge that the rail
road runs on, just a little further down,
and long trestle-work that goes clear
across the coton-feld, and around a
corner in the woods The river isn't
very deep now. lie boys wade every
day, but there are big ytones in it, and
they are all covered. Oer playhouse is
under the great sycamore tree.
Sometimes, when the boys are very
] Il. To- Il, IL
doctors and school teachers arI strict
fathers Sometimes, when >ney won't
play with us, they Just gooff and leave
us alone. But once ip awhile they stay
around. and say disssreeable things, and
throw sticks in tie water, and get every
thing all wet and if we can't drive them
away we b,ye to go back to the house,
while they sit on the bridge and scream
| after DIS.
Uncle Isaac don like to have them
play on the bridge, and has told them
not to. When they do it, of course, that
makes them feel wicked, so they plague
US.
Uncle has a Sunday-school for all the
children on the plantation, we are 50 far
from the church. All the black people
come, too. In pleasant weather we meet
on one of the piazzas. The Sunday
| before Easter, uncle had been talking to
us for a long time, but no one was
tired He telling us how Christ had
come down from heaven to die for us, as
well as all other people, and the servants,
even little baby Sukie, who was crawling
down the steps after a butterfly.
Christ had died in our stead" When
he said that he took hold of Sid's chin,
and, looking in his face, said very
solemnIy. "Sid, do you know that the
dear Lord died for you, too?" Sid al
ways had to stand by uncle before ser
vice was half over. II was the only
place he ever kept out of mischief, That
day he had made rabbit out of Jesse's
ocket-handkerchief, and when uncle
was talking to him it was hanging out Of
his pocket by string tied to its tail.
"Guess not, massa. Use no account
niger"
eyes, you are, Sid, in his eyes of some
account, and he was willing to die in
your stead, that you might go to heaven
if you try to be a good boy. Do you
know what it is to die in ones stead?
If Jesse had done something wrong that
he would have to be punished for,
something that he might even have to
die for, and you were to say, Il haven't
done this wicked thing; l know it was
wrong. but / love my master so much, |
would rather be killed, and have him
live; and YOU did die in his place; that
would be dying in his stead. Do you
deserve that He should have done so ~
Sid didn't say anything, but he looked
very sober, and after services he had to
tam somerscts clear across the lawn
down to the lane to the white gate, before
he was ready to laugh as much as usual.
But he must have remembered. The
next Sunday we were down at our play
house. Jesse was fishing, sitting on the
bridge, and he knew he ought not to be
there, for he made Sid watch to see if
uncle came into the field.
OF course if Jesse had minded, such an
awful thing would never have happened;
and how much he did wish afterward he
had, but what good did that do, just to
wish he had done right when it had all
happened
The supper-horn blew and we began
to pick up our things. 1t was long
time after that, though, when /, first of
all, climbed the bank with a load of
dolls chairs. Just as got up to the
top, heard whistle, and l saw Sid
throw up his arms, and started to run to
the end OF the bridge. The train was
coming
''Jesse Jessel'' l screamed, and we
all did," ''the trains coming Run
runl' But he must have been awiully
frightened, for he only stood still and
] looked toward the woods, and we could