Evening capital journal. (Salem, Or.) 1888-1893, 1892-01-30
DIR. TILDIE

Tildie's knowledge of politics was
very vague. She knew there had been
war before she was born, and that
old massa, since gone 10 glory, had
fought in It. She knew that her mis-
tress had once been rich and that the
dismal plantation was formerly the
scene Of lavish luxury and plenty.
She had no remembrance of a per
sonal kind connected with slavery, her
little yellow visage having failed to ap-
pear on this earth in time for it. As
far as she could gather from her rather
miscellaneous kindred it had been a
period Of much eating and drinking,
assured and variegated clothing, free
medicines and occasional punishments.
soon forgotten.
However. Tildie made the best of
her prosaic existence, though the sharp
black eyes looking restlessly out from
her mulatto face were always on the
watch for new possibilities. There was
something Caucasian In her long,
straight nose, formed for prying into
business not her own; something Cau-
casian also in the thin lips expressing
secrecy and intrigue.
Her hair seemed to give the lie to the
intellect revealed In her countenance,
for It was intensely kinky, and she
dressed it on purely African principles.
Mr. Elgin, from the next plantation,
used TO say that it resembled the "Holy
Mount" for it was gathered into about
half a hundred minute and shining
braids, each tied with scarlet string and
prone TO stand upright.
Miss Maria had suggested black as a
substitute and presented Tildie on her
fourteenth birthday with bolt of mar.
row sable ribbon.
Law, Miss Maria, she had answer
ed, II amt In mo'ning like you is. De
Lawd knows done feel bad bout po'
old massa, and nussed him and sot up
with him reg'lar, but 1t amt going ter
do him no good, me putting black on
my head"
lltOlt WIS hAttth hOWf aAAo WIZ AA'foS
expert housemaid on the river. She had
always shown wonderful faculty for
nursing the sick, distinguishing and
dropping medicines with unfailing sue
cess and cheering the patient with a
tact all her own. The gift of nursing
had been given to this little colored
girl as the gift Of music or painting is
given to Others.
Miss Maria was the head Of the fam
lily now, which had dwindled down
until there were only two to hold up
the once proud name. She was old
masters second wife--a woman he had
met In the far east before the war. She
tried faithfully TO do her duty in the
sphere Of life to which II had pleased God
TO call her, but 1t had always been uphill
work. Ii Is hard for an ''old maid" to
turn suddenly into a wife at best
harder still when she must change eli
mate and traditions also.
MiS Maria was good to her little
stepdaughter, Aurorei she tried to
teach her as she had been taught, and
10 instill into that southern maiden the
habits of New Hampshire. Aurore
was twenty-five now, and the failure
was very apparent; nothing whatever
had been instilled. The girl had sim
ply developed into the sweet, un-
learned maturity that suited her She
had beauty and grace, and talked with
the charm OF creole women--a charm
inherited from bygone courtly ancestors
who had done her reading and study
for her,
She was swinging In a hammock on
the pleasant June morning, her tiny
foot Just tapping the gallery with the
rocking motion. She had book IN
her hand, but she was not reading
one pink finger tip retained an Inn
aglnary place ia the volume, while the
other arm clasped the meshes above
her head.
Her dress was white, the soft trans.
parent white dear TO the creole heart,
Miss Maria had no sympathy with
gauEellke textures. A touch of starch
and some opaqueness were necessary 10
her self respect, even In wash materials
what are YOU doing, Auroref' her
stepmother queied sharply.
Aurore smiled Nothing, mainan.
She always called this forbidding
guardian by tho gentle French version
of the maternal.
II was trying 20 read poetry, but Il
Is 80 deliclo0sly cool that l was won
dering whether / would go 10 sleep or
have rildie make me some lemonada."
Miss Maria ilneled the keys in a little
basket which sho always carried rs a