The Indiana State sentinel. [volume] (Indianapolis) 1868-1895, 1891-02-18
The DEPARTURE OF ABRAHAM.

:
supposed 10 care nothing-it ceases en-
tirely, but when the warm days have come
and the city grows sitting with dust and
heat, the ice of reserve nielts and the cur
/ rent of affection sets toward the country
cousin in a way to threaten humiliation.
Then the memory of other days and
scenes awakens a sense of the compare
| tive discomfort of present surroundings
the cool stone spring-house with its treas
ures of rich milk and bluegrass" butter
/ and well-stocked larder; the roomy, old
| fashioned house with its broad porches
and halls and pleasant garden and orch
ards, loom up very attractively to the
minds eye, and the city cousin suddenly
| recollects how dear you are to her heart
and how much she longs to see you. But
| we loved company at "Ingleside," and
when our stylish cousin who lives in Indi-
| annapolis wrote us she was coming for a
visit we were filled with JOY and pre-
pared to give her a hearty welcome.
Our neighborhood was so quiet and events
of stirring nature so rare that the advent
OF visitor bringing something OF the at
mospEere OF fashionable life was in itself
an event OF no small importance.
1T is such a comfort" she wrote, "to
/ think my coming will entail no extra work
or trouble on my account. How delight
| full II is that the old servants have never
lett you, and that you are spared one of
the greatest anxieties with which we in
| the city have to cOntend-the uncertainty
and incapability of the average servant.
1t will seem like return to my girlhood
visits in ante-bellum DAYS Tell Aunt
Aggie ! remember her delicious hot
wafiies and the chicken she fried as no one
| else could"
Il told you So" said Dick, who was
listening 20 the reading OF the letter; II
| knew il was the chicken she was think
| ing ofw
"For shame, Dick" said "Old Muir"
go on, Louise TO me-, and pay no at
| tentioD to his interruptions"
So read on and learned that from a
| delay in the mails we had only one day
for preparation. and our cousin would be
| with US on the morrow.
III wonder if she cares for fishing?'
| queried Dick as he helped me fill vases
| and bowls with the splendid roses that
| tdlItN ran ilbA III AuN EtihNi anu dlhf III
| all the glory of the June sunshine.
secretly hoped she would bring her
"good" clothes, and would like to 60 10
| church. 1t would be so nice to show her
off, / thought.
1t was a comfort TO know we had plenty
of trained help, and that "Old Miss'-as
| everybody on the place, Young and old,
| called the mother-need have no care on
| her mind in regard TO the comfort of her
guest.
After the close OF the war there had
been a general exodus from our neighbor-
| hood of former slaves who wished 10 ex-
| perience realizing sense of their freedom
in that happy land OF Canaan supposed TO
be located somewhere beyond the Red sea
| of the Ohio river and in the vicinity OF
indianapolis.
But our Abraham and his numerous
tribe refused to join the hegira, and re-
manned contented by working Tor wages
where they had formerly worked for a
stronger reason. They had comfortable
homes; had always been well treated, and
concluded wisely that they had best let
well enough alone.
So TO all the much-talked-of glOries of a
free state the patriarch turned deaf car
| The word of Abra Abraham, TO dis
| tinguish him from Big Abe, Little Abe
and Abe, his descendants, whom he num-
| beTed TO the fourth generation-was abso-
| lutte law 10 his tribe and he, being old and
well stricken in years, refused to go. So
they all abode
The oft-expressed desire of the patriarch
was to end his days where he had begun
them, and to be buried among his own
people. The devotion of the genuine
negro to the family of his former owner is
instructive, and our interests never sui
fered at their hands.
As We sat on the porch in the long twi-
light OF the summer evening we heard
singing down at the quarter" and knew
the weekly prayer meeting TO be in prog
ress.
Lets go down." / said to Dick, and
shadow of a cedar tree, Just outside the
open window OF Abrsham's cabin.
Although the season was far advanced,
a fire of logs burned in the open fire.
place, rather for light than heat, as doors
and windows were wide open. The raft
ers were bleached with age and smoke,
and upon the walls played the grotesque
shadows of those who sat or knelt in the
| circle of light around the fire.
81 wonder what Reub Beverly's been
up to now" whispered Dick, as that
worthy closed a long and "windy suspera-
ton of forced breath" with an earnest
appeal TO his hearers TO turn from the
evil of their ways; "yo' mus git down off
yo' selfish boss Yo' got dyin' to do an
can't hve!" For Reub Lad the reputation
| OF stealing more during the week and
praying harder on Sunday than any negro
| in the neighborhood
Foremost in the group, as in age. was
Abraham, the patriarch of the flock by
reason of his four score years and the
number of his descendants. Our earliest
recollection embraced his image which,
like that of the typical "Uncle Ned" had
no wool on the top of his
head" but the little that re-
manned above his ears, and the bushy
tuft of his eyebrows was white as cotton
and gave his deep-set eyes a far-off look
as il they were retreating to another
country. But he was hale and sturdy as
an old oak, and as he knelt upon one
knee, grasping stout hickory stick in
one hand and a red bandana in the other,
| his deep, sonorous voice fairly shook the
rafters with the strength of his petition.
Never had ne prayed with greater fervor,
remembering each of the family by name
rob, Lawd, bless ole miss in a mos
| pahtikalah mannah Bless young miss in
q mos pahtikalah mannah" and so on
| from the greatest to the least lest the
omission of one might result in dire dis
aster 10 that unfortunate individual.
His wife sat in corner, her apron over