to free his people from the invader. This individualism made him a superb fighter, though it sometimes interfered with his efficiency as a soldier. So was it with his sires of the Revolution.

VI

"Ole Marster”

No civilization has ever been more misunderstood than that of the ante-bellum South. Even some of our own people have unintentionally misrepresented it; while our enemies have caricatured and maligned it. The object of this chapter is to steer between these two extremes and tell the truth.

Some Southern writers have treated the life of the old Southern planter as a beautiful dream, or a realm of elysium; others, as an ideal of social and domestic bliss. Neither of these views is the correct one.

Enemies in America and in Europe have painted the antebellum South as a land of oriental ease and luxury, where the planter led a life of effeminacy and indolence, such as we read of in stories of the Persian kings and nobles, the planter reclining lazily on richly-embroidered divans and attended by retinues of trembling slaves, who fanned the haughty despot as he lay on his downy couch, and expected him at any moment to order them to execution. This is as true as the tales of the Arabian Nights or as the stories of Baron Munchausen.

The planter's life was neither a beautiful dream nor an ideal of social and domestic bliss. It had its beautiful, its charming features; and its social and domestic joys were many. It had some charms which can never be adequately described and which can never be seen again forever. It had also its shadows, its burdens, its responsibilities; and these shadows were so dark, and the burdens and responsibilities so heavy, as to preclude the idea of its being an “ideal of social and domestic bliss." Moreover, there were too many stern realities connected with it to permit us to regard it as a dream of any character. Furthermore, the responsibility of owning and of caring for so many human beings weighed heavily upon the planter and his family, so that emancipation was a glad relief to many.

A planter, in short, was a very real and a very practical man of business, a man of affairs, wide-awake, intelligently busy. To get food and clothing for his family and his servants, he must exercise the same habits of industry, watchfulness, and thrift that are required of business men in other callings. If he did not get up at daybreak, he had employees who were paid to do so for him; and he was out on his plantation earlier than most of the business and professional men of our money-making cities.

He kept his eye on the grain market, the tobacco market, and the cotton market. He studied his soil, knew the producing power of every field, exchanged ideas with his neighbors, and developed a wonderful sagacity. He led an earnest and "strenuous" life, but kept himself well and hearty by joining in the sports and diversions of his family. In

whist, chess and backgammon, he was an expert, could lead a pretty girl handsomely in the Virginia reel, and was so full of "wise saws and modern instances" that young people often preferred to listen to his conversation rather than steal out on the porch and talk slang and nonsense to one another.

The great rendezvous were the stores and the churches. A country store was a sort of academy. There the planters met in groups-accidentally on purpose, as it were—and discussed the latest news, the questions of the day, the tariff, the slavery agitation, the last debate in Congress, and with great intelligence and discrimination exchanged opinions, and assessed the abilities of politicians and of statesmen. At church, before and after service or "preaching," the same scene was enacted.

A plantation was a veritable beehive. In many cases, the only drones were some negro slaves who would not work and who had such a bad reputation that no one would buy them, or some who were too old to work and were cared for by the master.

Idle planters there of course were. A good many wealthy men led very easy lives, and left most of the work to overseers and managers. But the statements made in the foregoing paragraphs of this chapter apply to untold thousands of men that had to work for a competent support for themselves, their families, and their dependents.

"Ole Marster's" sons inherited his business capacity. Being constantly thrown with inferiors, they learned the habit of command, of leadership. These facts help to ac

count for the preeminence of the South in statesmanship and on the field of battle. On the other hand, the man that is thrown with inferiors continually is apt to become selfopinionated and dictatorial, even proud and arrogant. So was it quite frequently with the colonial Cavalier and his descendants, and with others of less noble lineage. Pride and haughtiness led to quarrelling and duelling. Duelling brought censure and even contempt. The whole generation of "first families" were ridiculed and hated in some quarters, and so the "root of bitterness" troubled the nation.

VII

"Ole Mistis"

The busiest body on the whole plantation was the "Missis," or "Ole Missis," or "Ole Mistis," as the servants called her. Busy? Yes, busy to the very elbows. Busy does not express it. No, busy is a trifling, i pecunious word when applied to "Ole Missis." Busier than "Ole Marster;" for, if his "work was from sun to sun, her work was never done." Busier than "Mammy;" for, after the children were all asleep, she could go to bed and sleep all night, unless one of the children had the croup or a spasm. Busier than "Uncle Joe," "Uncle Henry" and the rest of the trusted field-hands; for they sat by the fire dozing and smoking and praying and humming hymn-tunes, while "Ole Missis" was busy with a thousand and one things that had to be attended to before the house and the "quarters"

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and the cows and the pigs and the chickens could settle themselves down for a good night's rest.

"Ole Marster" might know something; but "Ole Mistis" knew everything in heaven above and in the earth beneath and in the waters under the earth. From her opinion there was no shadow of dissent. Her decision on any point was absolutely final, more infallible than the pope's, more binding than that of any of the great councils of christendom. In the dressing, basting, and roasting of a turkey, her opinion was law. On mince-meat and pastry, she had a patent, left to her by her mother and inherited by her from bygone generations. As to how many eggs a pullet or an old hen ought to lay at such a season, her opinion was quoted all over the plantation with as much awe as a text of Scripture.

She was the genius loci, the goddess, or rather the queen of this little kingdom. In the domestic department, she was supreme, her husband being only Prince Consort, with no voice in the government. Her executive ability was equal to her husband's. They were like two monarchs living in the same palace, but ruling different kingdoms. He might call upon her to share the burdens of his administration, and even leave many matters to her decision; but he would not dream of interfering with her right of eminent domain in the culinary and domestic department. Thus she became a veritable statesman. She had the masculine abilities of an Elizabeth combined with the feminine graces of a Victoria.

From both parents, therefore, the children inherited executive ability, a talent for administration. The girls, too, were