The semi-weekly messenger. [volume] (Wilmington, N.C.) 1897-1908, 1906-10-16

"The melancholy days had come,
The saddest of the year,
Of wailing winds and naked woods,
And meadows brown and sere."
With the severe weather Uncle
Eben's strength rapidly waned, and
poor old Judy was shocked 10 note
how dreadfully he vas changed. One
morning Eben vainly e~ndeayored TO
rise to make the kitchen fire, AMI do
his other chores about the place. He
was too weak to stand on his feet. and
fell back on the bed painting and
groaning. Judy made some hot cof-
fee, and though the pOor creature
was suffering terribly herself with the
misery in her left chist", tended him
all day, and made some "yarb te4",
the negro's panacea for all ills. But
as the night came on, and the fire
light cast Pickering, fantastic shadows
about the room, the old man grew
much worse. At last he began recit-
ing scraps of Scripture and a line or
two Of a hymn. At this Judy sat up
in bed, her woolly head full Of kinky
~pig-tails, and her eyes popping out
for according to the superstition of
her race, for the sick to quote the
Bible or to sing hymns, was a sure
sign of death.
"Wha de matter wild you, ole man?
Is you goin' to die?" getting out OF
bed and sitting down by him. Yes,
Judy. | is gwine to die. De Lord hab
been very pashunt wild dis poor sin
full niger; but, | heern him say twice
since the sun went doWn-and his
voice was slow and solemn, like it
was creeping down froo de stars
"Eben, yo' time hab come!" Later on
the dying man went on: Il have
neber seen the righteous forsaken or
his seed begging bread. amt got
no seed, but Judy'll hab a roof over
her, and money in de purse, and bacon
in de meat box, and taters IN de hill,
and pumpkins on de vine
After this Eben seemed III a stupCr.
for q long time. Then he crOOned in
q weak voice:
land,
No, Lord
No grief, no trouble of de spirit and de
flesh,
No. Lore.
We git to de riber, and dey ferry us
across.
Dress de Lord"
That was Uncle Eben's last utter
ance on earth, Dress de Lord; and,
just as the first streaks Of dawn were
struggling in at the little window of
the Lighthouse, he passed away-went
out with the ebb of the tide.
In Eben's purse was found S11, and
a little memorandum bcOk showed he
had had about $1,000 with the Fay
e~tteville merchant with whom ne
traded. He was buried on the after
noon of the following day under Il
walnut tree on ONE corner Of the
farm.
Between 2 and 8 o'clock the X
morning, the clerk Of Uncle Ebens
Fayetteville merchant, who slept over
the store, and was kept awake By a
raging tooth. heard a tramplng OF
hOofs on the pavement outside, and
sounds as if the front door was being
struck. Raising the window, he saw,
by the light of the street lamp, "Tobe"
and "Reub'' Che recognized them at a
glance without q stitch of harness On,
standing side by side on the pavement,
alternately butting the rontd door. lie
was beyond measure astonlshed. HAD
Eben started to town, and fallen from
the cart on the way? Had his nous
burned down? The clerk had a real
affection for the good old colored man;
and, after studying a minute or two,
dressed, put on a heaVy overcoat'
lighted a lantern, and went down
stairs. and opened the door. The steers
looked up at him patiently with their
big round eyes, and backed away TO
make room for him and followed him
as he went to the stable, woke UP the
hostler. and had him hitch up a horse
and buggy.
The clerk drove rapidly, and how
"Tobe' and "Rue5' kept up heaven
knows, but they were at the end OF the
tourney nearly as SOC as he was 1t
was now daylight. The gate was open
and also the door Of the house; and
the clerk. entering the latter saw at a
glance that neither the mar o his
wife was there. Passing round to the
rear of the house, he saw under a wal
nut tree what looked like a human
being living on the ground. What was
his amazement on going up to lind
Aunt Judy lying dead on a new made
grave. for he had heard nothing Of the
illness and death of Uncle Eben-
The w~man was stiff and stark, haV-
ing probably died early in the night.
The Door creature, suffering the last
mortal pangs of that weak heart,
staggered out to the grave and fell,
ready to be laid by the side Of her
husband.
What strange instinct told those
dumb beasts, those ugly knock-kneed
little steers, that the little farm up
in the woods was the scene of a SOL
emu mystery? And what strange in
stinct told them where to carry the
news?
It took pretty we'll all of Uncle
Eben's cash to lay him and his wife
out OF the way Of the world. but they
left it without owing anybody a cent.
I never learned what was the final
disposition Of Uncle Eben's little patch
Of acres. | have heard that "Tobe