Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1894-12-22
THE CAPTAINS
CHRISTMAS STORY
BY MARGARET MOORE PIGGOT.


The Captain made up his mind to give
| party. He first thought Of a dinner-a din
| ing it is called in that part of the world
| but upon mature consideration decided that
| an evening party with dance would be
| better. You can get more people in the
| house that way" he reasoned land then,
| Nanny is right it don't take so many
| Dishes"
S'Whar yer gwipe ter git 'nough fer all
| dem folks ter eat?" demanded his dictator,
| for the Captain, like many another south
erner, was still under the care of his
| nanny" and she ruled him and his house
| with rod of iron. She had never even
| dreamed of leaving the old plantation.
| Freedom had no charms away from all her
| lifetime associations, and the comfort of
| her Chile" was far more important to her
| than any sentimental visions of personal
independence. So she stayed at her post
| with her old husband-who would possibly
| have had some revolutionary ideas II
| Nanny had allowed him the luxury of a
| private opinion-and she cooked for her
/ one lamb left in the old fold, nursed and
| cared for him though he was forty as she
had done when he was four.
| 1t was the first Christmas after the war,
| dreary, sad and hopeless; too soon after
| the stunning blow of defeat for much re-
| action even in the healthieSt nature. The
| terrible poverty, the desperate outlook over
many fields left fallow, plowed by shot and
shell, and sown with the seed that will
| only quicken at the last day, crushed even
| the most buoyant souls.
The Captain was pretty blue" he de-
clared and felt that somebody must come to
| the front with something to cheer up the
neighborhood. and as he was bachelor,
with a big house untouched by the chances
/ of war; he was convinced that he was the
one to do it; but Mammy's questions about
| supplies was pertinent and must be an
swered.
"Well, Nanny, 1 reckon there's a wild
| turkey or so in the hollow, and Uncle Jake
| can set all his hare traps and he can
| catch us a lot of old hares"-the Captain
| called then ''ole hyars'-"and l can get
| some squirrels and cartridges, and don't
| think Wen starve on that"
Huh! War yer gwine ter git no cake, an
| no ice cream her nuthin, an whars yer
| aig nayg an apple toddy, an peach bran
| dy, an yer sweet wine fer de ladies"'
well, you know there's that keg Of ap-
| pie brandy Uncle Jake found under the
| leaves in the old ice house. It's good ten
| years old by this time, and that'll Go for
| the egg-nogg, and the boys will have to do
without their toddy. and'-resolutely, I'm
| have a fine supper. Besides everything you
| cook tastes SO good, Nanny, the folks
| won't know the difference"
| Il don't min cooking things, when 1 got
| things ter cook was Mammy's parting
| shot she left the room, obviously molli-
| fled, and the Captain knew his first ally
| was secured.
1t was a different matter when he spoke
| to his sister-in-law of his intended hospi-
| tally. She had been widowed by the war,
| and she considered the Captains "frivol-
| ity," as she called 1t, a heartless proceed
| ing, G want of proper respect for his dead
1 brother.
rs this a time to dancer she asked.
| well, yes, Molly, / think it is. We've
| had time enough to weep, the Lord knows,
and we've done plenty of it, and we're 60
| ing to do plenty more before we get
| through. And that's just the reason i took
it into my head I'd like to dance little
| now"
Who'll dance with you, who will you
| invite?"
| Everybody, you and the children to be-
| gin with. They're young enough to dance,
| sure, and I'll get all the old folks to play
| ing cards in the little parlor, and We'll be-
gin early and keep it up late and forget
| our troubles for one night, anyway, and
| dance the old year out and the New Year
| in, as we always used to do Toms been
dead, poor fellow, these three g'ears' you
| know
| LAS If could forget Tom in three yearsr'
| but she made no further objection, and as
the Captain expected, every one who was
| hidden was only too glad to come. 1t was
| the only party in the country side, the only
break in the monotony of that dreary win
| ter, and everybody seized upon the OPP
| portunity, and everybody made merry.
| The hosts request to come early and
| stay late was obeyed to the letter. Before
| 6 o'clock, nondescript procession of vehi-
| cles began to file in the 'big gate" Horses
were very scarce, mules almost as much
so; therefore the carriage-where one sur
| vived-was out of the question, IL the whole
| family were to come, which they did In
| most cases, SO the usual chariot was the
farm wagon, drawn by the mule and horse
| with rope harness. or what had once been
| sure enough harness, tied up in a null
| titude Of places with a miscellaneous col
| lection Of strings; mamma and the children
| inside, upon straw, pillows, or anything
| that could soften the hard wooden floor;
papa driving, and the whole party bent on
| enjoying themselves to the utmost
| few young men rode farm horse or
| mule, but many of them walked, miles and
miles, and danced all night afterward. The
| cid colonial house literally glowed with
| hospitality through every rudy window,
for the problem of enough light had been
| solved by Uncle Jake's elbow grease at
| the wood pile, and countless Chunks o.
| lightwood' were heaped up to brighten the
| festivities. There We're a few candles in
| the parlor for the card tables and in the
| supper room, but the long drawing ROOM
| which had not been used for years-the
| war closed those doors-had a roaring wood
fire In the great chimney at each end, upon
| which, from time to time the fat pine
knots were thrown, and the bright flicker
| ing flame Illuminated the large room with
| rosy light, throwing deep shadows in the
| corners where sometimes a shadow came
|
| the rest. Cupid had been very busy during
| those four restless years, and it was not to
| be expected that he would give up his old
| habits Immediately.
| Long Nose" and yellow Sam" were the
| fiddlers, and "Mammy's" young Jake"
| knocked the tune" on the banjo with such
| good will as well as good time that to keep
| ones feet still necessitated the loss of one
| of them, or Yankee bullet in the knee"
| In the little parlor' were the cards and
| the old folks, and in the halls, up the old
| stair, peeping through the railing on the
landings, on the floor among the dancers,
| Iomped the children.
| From the open door a beam of rosy light
| fell across the lawn the moon rose ma
| jestically over the mountains across the
| river, the dry leaves of the old red oak
| near the house soughed in the mild breeze
| the Potomac silver here and there in the
| moonlight, glided as peacefully as
| though its current had never been tinged
| by other red than the glow from the fire.
| light in the lockkeeper's house under the
| shadow of the mountain. In the ball room
Long Nose" was calling the figures for
| the Virginia reel, Honor to yer partners"
| "Fust couple forrard and back" Except
| for the prevalence of gray garments among
| the men, and an occasional empty sleeve
| or crutch by the chair in the card room
| who could tell there had ever been such a
| thing as war in the land?
| Mammy'S supper was as great triumph