Mary Baldwin College - Bluestocking Yearbook (Staunton, VA)

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The Augusta Seminatn Annual. 27 The rest of the chikh ' en were called and the preparations for tlie funeral began. First a little hole was dug with Mammy ' s kitchen knife dexterously stolen by Master Tom, and then the linal resting place of the unfortunate chicken was lined with gray moss and rose leaves. The coffin, a large match box, was almost filled with pink oleanders and orange blossoms, and a little pile (»f j)opinax served for a pillow. To Violet was given the honoi- of placing the deceased, arrayed in Dolly ' s best dress, in the coffin. It was hard for the dear little thing to keep Ijack her tears while her pet was being covered with Howers, but the funeral was not over yet, so she listened with dignity while Tom conducted the serN-ice with his most serious air, and after joining in the mourn- ful dirge she burst into tears and ran in to Mannna, leaving the chicken to rest in peace, and the children to iinish their play. June IGth, 189-2. — I have just returned from a visit to Mammy and she gave me as warm a welcome as if I had never given her any trouble in my life. She has been a nnrse in tlie family ever since Man una was a baby, and one would think from the way she bosses us children that she owned the place. But now, as she tells me, sence folks is got sech newfangled idees ' boiit raisin chillun, she has resigned her position and retired to a cabin in the yard to enjoy a comfortable old age as a lady of leisure. I saw her this morning sitting on a low stool in front of her door enjoying the golden sunshine. She was bent low over her knitthig; her white woolly head was bound with a bandanna handkerchief, and the white kerchief round her neck was caught in at the Avaist b} a green gingham a])ron. By her side was her pet cat purring lazily, while the old w oman kept time with her bare foot to the words sung in a melancholy strain : I ' m gwine to rise, I ' m gwine to rise, Fm gwine to rise at de cummin day, I ' m gwine to rise. As I crossed the yard for my first visit I saw Violet stealthily approaching, and wondered what mischief she was planning. Vio- let ' s shout of glee and poor Mammy ' s indignant, I gwine tell Mars Jeems jes soon es he git in de gate ; you jes see if I don ' t! showed that Violet ' s grasshopper had been successfully applied. There was anger on one side and a promise on the othei-; in a

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26 The Augusta Seminary Annual. breeze, while many a mother trudges on slowly, bent under the doul)le weight of her baby and her basket. One by one they file into the courtyard aud pour the coft ' ee out upon tlie stone pave- ment to dry, then saunter carelessly off to their quarters to dream of f i-agrant coifee and steaming hominy ; and we homeward go, while the twilight shades are deepening and the moonbeams dance upon our path. Margaret Lane. Leaves from My Diary. JUlSrE 15th, 1892. — How good it is to be at home again after two long years at boarding school ! How different from the long row of class rooms, the towering heights of Sky-high, the black top of the Covered way, was the scene from my window this morning. A large garden divided into borders bright with flowers and shaded by tall oleanders lay before me. In the centre of it was a fountain reflecting in its silvery spray tlie golden sunshine, while a little bird sat on the side taking its morjiing shower-l)ath and sending forth praises to its maker in sweetest song. Scarcely had the little warbler ceased ' when the voices of happy children were heard, and Tom, who thinks himself quite a man in his new knickerbockers, entered the garden, followed by Elsie dragging her doll in a wheelbarrow. I ' se gohi ' to see if my beans hasn ' t come up yet, said the little fellow, going over to where a small mound of dirt was heaped. The beans, planted only the day before, had not come up, so he proceeded to dig them up to see what was de matter wif dose fings. Wliile he was excavating the beans, three-year-old Yiolet entered crying as if her heart would break; she hugged to her breast a little dead cliicken and sobbed, Dat howid old wooster bit his head wight off, and I isn ' t got any more ' ittle chickies. Never you mind, said brother Tom, leaving his beans to dry the little one ' s eyes, we ' ll bury him and beat the old rooster too,

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28 lite Augusta Seminary Annual. twinkling peace Avas restored and Yiolet, at lier feet, was listening to those dear old stories which Mammy tells in her peculiarly soft voice of those mystic times fo de war, when all dis nigger had to do was jes to keep Miss Ellen ' s close straight ' The children have told me that since I have been away at school my faults, seen through the softening veil of absence, have assumed to Mammy ' s eyes the shape of virtues, and that she has often entertained tliem with stories of her heretofore scapegi-ace protege, saying with great pride, Miss Marion is olf to boding school gifting her edufercashing. I approached just as she was mingling me with her fo de war joys, and heard myself used to point a nir:)ral of correction to little Violet. My old pranks are indeed forgotten I She received me with a shower of welcomes, and holding me at arm ' s length wliile she scanned me from head to foot, she exclaimed, Bless de chile, how she is growedl and how she do frizzle her hyar! Monday, June 21, 1892. — Going to church at home is such a deliji ' htful chane:e from walkiny; in a column of one hundred and lifty girls, that j-esterda} , in sj)ite of Mamma ' s warnings, I resolved to take Violet to church for the first time in her life. Now Violet, being the baby, is not a little spoiled, and perhaps her being a preacher ' s daughter does not lessen her badness. I thought as it was only an afternoon service and Papa ' s lecture was to be very short, I could manage her, so olf we started. For a while after we got to church she sat very still, looking with wondering eyes at the strange faces. Soon the organ began to play, and cuddling close to me she whispered, Sister, is dat de bears growlin X and when Papa entered the chancel she wanted to know why Papa wore such a big white aju-on and hollered at her so loud. As soon as I had answered the questions to her satisfaction she grew more at ease and Ijegan to turn over the leaves in the prayer book, but soon she became restless again, asking repeatedly how long before church would be over. I was kneeling at the second prayer when I heard a smothered giggle from a little boy who had been vatclling Violet ' s move- ments very closely; and, looking up, I found that my young charge had climbed up on the seat, and, as she counted them, was