The Anderson intelligencer. [volume] (Anderson Court House, S.C.) 1860-1914, 1896-07-01
"OUR COUNTRY AS WE KNOW IT
The Southland Viewed From Its Own
Standpoint,
From the Sunday NeWS.

statement of facts, and the spirit with
which / write them down for the few
who may be interested in them, than
by quoting these words of Mr.. Her
bert Spencer, and leaving the applioa-
ton of them to my discriminating
reader:
"My antagonists must continue to
villify me as they please, l cannot
prevent them Practically they say,
1T is convenient to. call you a mate
rialist whether you like it or not. In
my e lier days I constantly made the
FOOLS supposition that conclusive
proofs would change beliefs, but ex-
perienoe has long since changed my
faith in man nationality"
The first vivid picture painted upon
my mind as a young child is so pecul-
lar to u own past, that those who
have heard Of slavery and the South,
and are profoundly ignorant Of US as a
| people, may be interested IN these
"reminiscences.
1t is a bright spring day, a spotless
| chamber, the windows on the South
thrown open, the balmy air floating in,
| laden with the smell of orange bios
SONS, a lovely mother, with her Ma,
donna face and figure, long limbed, all
grace and dignity, a tiny creature by
her side, the wonder and delight OF
my young imagination.
TIE door opens quietly, and with
great difidence, in answer to her
gentle ''come in" appears a process
sion of negro women; they are oil as
tidy as possible, and SO delighted at
being allowed to enter those sacred
precincts. "Maussa say we kin come,
Missus, and we come, for true, to see
dis baby. NAUSEA SO proud cause ne
is a boy. What e name, Missus?
Hush, chile, enty 20 know e name
Jemes. Don't 20 member how Maus
sa let . beard grow when e brudder
die? NAUSEA lub dat bruddel pass
speaking, an e name dis baby arter
i'm. e is a beauty, e got to be, just
look at you, an NAUSEA when e dress
on Sunday e look so proud, enty 20
very UNI when e say, Come, boys,
git de boat, I must 60 to town today
Well, little NAUSEA, 20 got plenty mig
ger to work for 20. Oh, Lord, de
chile is too sweet. Yankee ma am.
Good bye, man," calculating as they
pass out of the room
This place where we were born had
a grove of several hundred orange
trees Just in front of the house, and
stretching down to the river bank. 1t
was a Joy to leave the city when the
first cold severe enough to kill the
rank vegetation and keep malaria at
bay made it safe to stay in the coun-
try.
We would be rowed across the spark
ling waters Of our most beautiful river
and at sight of the brilliant trees
laden with golden fruit, and often
with blossoms, too, our mother eyes
filled with delight, and the children
shouted with JOY, as we were lifted
out of the boat and placed on the lit
tie landing" built just at the foot OF
the avenue, leading through the grove
to the house.
We had as children a Swedish gov
erness, and how. 1 marvelled over some
unopened trunks of hers; never until
after a four years stay amongst us
did I know the contents of those iron
bound chests, and then how we did
enjoy finding out her secret. She had
brought every domestic article with
her from her far away European home,
coming, as she thought, amongst a
half civilized people. She never need
ed to unpack them, and did not,
thinking, with her nice constituencies,
that we might be wounded by the i'm
putation.
My grandfather was New England
Puritan. He became enamored OF the
South, and twas from him my mother
inherited these numerous negroes.
My father family had been profess
sional men, but when he married my
mother this valuable property had to
be cared for, and he turned planter,
as we used to say. Every Southern
man planted if he could, and no won
der. What a glorious life of freedom
and abundance and keen interest and
high duties it implied!
x country gentleman. Ours was a
whole people of country gentlemen.
MI. Pemberton Mines speaks of them
in the Old World as my own rank,
an order which Kings ana Princes can
have no conception of, it, supporters,
the horse and fox, it's crest, the cot
ton boil, it's motto, hospitality
My father was a model MASTER
HoWRell 1 remember when moving as
wei from this beloved orange grove
to /; lost valuable rice estate his care
in choosing the very sunniest hooks
in which to build the negro quarters.
Nice double frame houses they were,
each family having two sleeping rooms
and a common room. Everything was
done to raise them morally.
Who having lived it eve a forget
the exceeding picturesqueness of our
plantation life? On Christmas morn
Ing, when my mother stood on the
sunny piazza, surrounded by her chill
dren, half buried in the mass of bright
kerchiefs and red flannel shirts, the
warm shawls for the old women. the
caps for the men, and we all helped
her to distribute them among the
eager crowd Of happy men and women
in the yard below. 1t seemed wonder
full to our PARKWAY Scandinavian
friend that we could be so fond of the
people whose savage features and
black skin she shuddered at. Why,
of course, we loved them. Had | not
slept in the arms of my old mauma?
I was a wakeful, imaginative child,
and when my companions, the flicker
ing shadows of the old andirons, faded
away from the ceiling and the wood
fire died out, and my eyes were still
wide open, I used to creep into her
bed and into her kind, patient old
arms and find protection and sleep.
This same mauma of mine did scare
me, too, when I saw her in the dim
freight say her prayers standing, in
her long, white gown and her bony
black arms stretched up to heaven. |
never told anybody, even my mother,
of how my mauma said her prayers
and scared me. Ny father never tired
of telling how, when there were no
lonro, ,b;1drop ~ mind ba ocl-oG har