COL. BRERETON'S AUNTY.

Press, Volume XLVIII, Issue 7781, 7 February 1891, Page 2

COL. BRERETON'S AUNTY.

The pleasant smell of freshly turned garden-mould and of young growing things came In through the open window of the Justice of the Peace. His nasturtiums were spreading pale and weedy—l could distinguish their strange, acrid scent from the odour of the rest of the young vegetation. The tips of the morn-ing-glory vines, already up their strings to the height of a man's head, curled around the window-frame, and beckoned to mc to come out and rejoice with them In the freshness of the mild June day. It was pleasant enough Inside the Justice s front parlour, with its bright ingrain carpet, Its gilt clock, and its marble-topped centre-table. But the Justice and the five gentlemen who were paying him a business call—although It was Sunday morning—looked, the whole half-dozen of them, 111 in accord with the spirit of the Spring day. The Justice looked annoyed. The five gentlemen looked stern, " Well, as you say," remarked the fat little Justice, who was an Irishman, "if this divilment goes on—" •' It's not a auestion of going on, Mr G'Brien," oroke fn Alfred Winthrop; "it has gone on too long." Alfred is a little inclined to be arrogant with the unwlnthropian world; and, moreover, he was rushing the season in a very grand suit of white flannels. He looked rather too much of a lord of creation for a democratic community. Antagonism lit the Justice's eye. _ ____ "I'm afraid we've got to do it, OBrien/, I interposed, hastily. The Justice and l are strong political allies. He was mollified. ~«.., " Well, well," he assented ; " let s have him up and see what he's got to say for himself. Mlket" he shouted out the window, " bring up Colonel Brereton I" Colonel Brereton had appeared in our village (about a year before that Sunday. Why he came, whence he came, he never deigned to say. But he made no secret of the fact that he was an unreconstructed Southron. He had a little money when he arrived—enough to buy a tiny one-storey house on the outskirts of the town. By vocation he was a lawyer, and, somehow or other, he managed to pick up enough to support him in his avocation, which, we soon found out, was that of village drunkard. In this capacity he was a glorious, picturesque and star tling success, aturatea with cheap whiskey, he sat all dry long In the bar-room or on the porch of the village groggery, discoursing to the neighborhood loafers of the days oefo* the Wsh7 when he had a vast plantation in "Pirginia** and five hundred nlggehs, seh. So long its the v Colonel's excesses threatened only his own liver, no one Interfered with him. But on the night before we called upon the Justice, the Colonel, having brooded long over his wrongs at the hands of the Yankees, and having made himself a reservoir of cocktailsideclded to enter his protest against the whole system of free coloured labour by cutting the liver out of every negro in the town, and he had slightly lacerated Winthrop's mulatto coachman before a delegation of citizens fell upon him, and, finding him unwilling to relinquish his Irian, placed him for the night in the ock up in Squire O'Brien's cellar. We waited for the Colonel. From under our feet suddenly arose a sound of scuffling and smothered Imprecations. A minute later, Mike, the herculean son of the Justice, appeared in the doorway, bearing a very small man hugged to his breast as a baby hugs a doll. "Let mc down, seh I" shouted the Colonel. Mike set him down, and he marched proudly Into the room, and seated himself with dignity and firmness on the extreme edge of a chair. The Colonel was very small indeed for a man of so much dignity. He could not have been more than five foot one or two; he was slender—but his figure was shapely and supple. He was unquestionably a handsome man, with fine, thin features and an aquiline profile—like a miniature Henry Clay. His hair was snow-white— prematurely, no doubt—and at the first fiance yon thought he was clean shaven, 'hen you saw that there was scarcely a hair on his cheeks, and that only the finest imaginable line of snowy white moustaches curled down his upper lip. His skin was smooth as a baby's and of the color of old ivory. His teeth, which he was just then exhibiting in a sardonic smile, were white, small, even. But if he was small, his carriage was large; and military. There was something military, too, about his attire. He wore a high collar, a long blue frock coat, and tight, light gray trousers with straps. That is, the coat had once been blue, the trousers once light gray, but they were now. of many tints and tones, and, at that exact moment, they had here and there certain peculiar high lights of whitewash. The Colonel did not wait to be arraigned. Sweeping his black, piercing eye over our little group, he arraigned us. "Well, gentlemen, with keen irony in his tone, " I reckon yon think you've done a right smart thing, getting the Southern gentleman in a hole f Apro-dee.gious fine thing, I reckon, since it's kept yon away from church. Bopiifl" church. I believer This was to poor Canfield, who waa suspected of having been of that communion in his youth, and of being much ashamed of It after his marriage to an aristocratic Episcopalian. "Nice Sunday mo'ning to worry a Southern gentleman I Gentleman who's owned a plantation that you could stick this hyeh picayune town into one eo'nehofl Owned mo' nlggehs than yon eveh saw. Bobbed of his land and his nlggehs by you Yankee gentlemen. Prinks a little wine to make him fo'get what he's su_e_ed. Gets ovehtaken. Tries to avenge an Insult on bis honah. Pat him in a felon's cell and white-wash his gyarments. And now ypu come hyeh —yon come hyeh—" his eye fell with deep disapproval upon Winthrop's white flannels—"you come hyeh In youh underclothes, and yon want to have him held fo' Special Sessions " " You are mistaken. Colonel Brereton," Winthrop interposed ; "if we can have your promise ——" " I will promise you nothing, seh P thundered the Colonel, who had a voice like a church organ, whenever he chose to use it; **"I will make no conventions with yon 1 I will pnt no restrictions on my right to defend my honah. Put mc in youh felon's cell I I will rot in youh infehnal dungeons; but-I will make no conventions with you. You can pat mc in striped breeches, bat you cyan'fe pat my honah in striped breeches i" . "That settles it," said the Justice.

"Andall," continued the Colonel, orofcoricaUy, " and all this hyehfaia and neglect of youh religious duties, fo' one of the cheapest and most o'nery niggehs I eveh laid eyes on. Why, I wouldaThave given one hundred dollahsfo' that niggehbefo' the wah. No, seh, I give you my wo'd, that niggeh ain't wo'th ninety dollahs !" "Mike P said the Justice, significantly. The Colonel arose promptly, to insure a voluntary exit. He bowed low to Winthrop. "Allow mc to hope, seh.""that you won't catch cold," And with one lofty and comprehensive salute he marched haughtily back to hia dungeon, followed by the towering Mike. The Justice sighed. .An elective judiciary has its trials, like the rest of us.

i It is hard to commit a voter ofyour own party for Special Sessions. Hpwever--drive him over to Court in the' morning," said tho little Justice. I was sitting on my -_Mnd__.t_a.af_*--! noon, reading. Hearing my name softly sp?fcnr_l__ied up a_Saaw to km* and oldest negress I had ever me** She was at least aix feet *£ not fat, fall black, with ca_ef_Uy.dre.Md crey hair. I knew at once from her neat dress, her well-trained manner, the easy deference of th© curtsey she dropped mc, that she belonged to the class that used to be'known as "house darkeys"—in contradistinction to the field hands. "I understand, seh," she said, in a low voice. " that you gentlemen have got Cunnle Bre'eton jailed 1" She had evidently been brought up among educated Southerners, for her grammar was good and her pronunciation correct, according to southern standards. Only once or twice did she drop into negro talk. T fl _•. 4(_ ___£__ " How much will it be, seh. to get him out ? * She produced a fat roll of twenty and fifty dollar bills. " I do fo' Cunnle Bre'eton"* she explained: " I have always done fo' him. I was his Mammy when he was a baby." I made her sit down —when she did there was a modest deprecation in her attitude—and I tried to explain the situation to her. " You may go surety for Colonel Brereton," I said; " but he Is certain to repeat the offence." " No seh," she repli<*d, in her quiet, firm tone; "the Cunnle won't make any trouble when I'm here to do fo' him." " You were one of his slaves ? " ' "No, seh. Cunnle Bre'eton neveh had any slaves, seh. His father, Majah ; Bre'eton, he had slaves one time, I guess, ■ but when the Cunnel was bo'n he was playing kyards fo' a living, and he had '. only mc. When the Cunnle s mother died. Majah Bre'eton, he went to Mizzoura, and he put the baby in my ahms, and he said to me,' Sabrine,' he said. • you do fo him. And I've done fo' him eveh since. Some- ' times he gets away from mc, and then he gets kind o' wild. He was in Sandusky a year, and in ChlUicothe six months, and he was in Tiffin once, and one time in a ; place in the sta«* of Massachusetts—l disremembeh the name. This is the longest time he" eveh got away from mc. But I : always find him, and then he s all rujht. "But you have to deal with a violent

" The Cunnle won't be violent with mc, "But you're getting old, Aunty—how old?" , " I kind o' lost count since I was seventyone, eeh. But I'm right spry, yet." " Well, my good woman," I said decisively. " I can't take the responsibility of letting the Colonel go at large unless you give mc some better guarantee of your ability to restrain him. What means have you of keeping him in hand f" She hesitated a long time, smoothing the folds of her neat alpaca skirt with her strong hands. Then she said: " Well, seh, I wouldn't have you say any thing about it, fo feah of hunting Cunnle Bre'eton's feelings; but when he gets that way, 1 jes' nachully tuhn him up and spank him. I've done it eveh since he was a baby," she continued apologetically, " ann it's the only way. But you won't say any thing about it, seh? The Connie's powerful sensitive."" I wrote a brief note to the Justice. Ido not know what legal formalities he dlsSsnsed with; but that afternoon the olonel was free. Aunt Sabrine took him home, and he went to bed for two days while she washed his clothes. The next week he appeared in a complete new outfit—in cut and color the counterpart of Its predecessor.

....'_ . « a » Here began a new era for the Colonel. He was no longer the town drunkard. Aunty Sabrine "allowanced" him—one cocktail in the mo'ning; a "ho'n' and one at nigh. On this diet he was a model of temperance. If occasionally he essayed a drinking bout, Aunty Sabrine came after him at eve, and led him home. From my window I sometimes saw the steady big figure, and the wavering little one going home over the crest of the hill, equally black In their silhouettes against the sunset sky.

What happened to the Colonel we knew not. No man. saw him for two days. Then he emerged—with unruffled dignity. The two always maintained genuine Southern relations. He called her his damn black nigger—and would have killed any man who spoke ill of her. She treated him with the humble and deferential familiarity of a " mammy toward " young manse."

For herself, Aunty Sabrine won the hearts of the town. She was an ideal washerwoman, an able temporary cook in domestic interregna, a tender and wise nurse, and a genius at jam and jellies. The Colonel, too. made money In his line, and put it faithfully into the common fund. In March of the next year, I was one of a Beform Town Committee, elected to oust the usual local ring. We discharged the inefficient Town Counsel who had neglected our Interests In a lot of suits brought by swindling road contractors. Aunty Sabrine came to mc, and solemnly nominated Colonel Brereton for the post. " He Is sho'ly a fine loyyeh," she said. I know not whether It was the Great American sense of humor, or the Great American sense of fairness, but we engaged the Colonel, conditionally. He waa a positive, a marvellous, an incredible success, and he won every suit. Perhaps he did not know much law; but he was the man of men for country judges and juries. Nothing like his eloquence had ever before been heard in the county. He argued, he cajoled, he threatened, he pleaded, he thundered, he exploded, he confused, he blazed, he fairly dazzled—for silence stunned you when the Colonel ceased to speak, as the lightning blinds your eyes long after it has vanished. The Colonel was utterly incapable of seeing any but his own side of the case. I remember a few of his remarks concerning Finnegan, the contractor, who was suing for 8_27d01. payments withheld. "Fohty yahdsl the Colonel roared: " f ohty yahds i This hyeh man Finnegan, this hyeh cock-a-doodle-doo, he goes along this hyeh road, and he casts his eye oven this hyeh excavation, and he comes hyeh and sweahs it's fohty yahds good measure. Does he take a tape measure and measure it f NO I Does he even pace it off with these hyeh corkscrew legs of his that he's trying to hide under his chain? NO 11 He says, ' I'm _ innegan, and this hyeh's fohty yahds,' and off he sashays up the hill, wondering wheah Finnegan's going to bring up when he's walked off the topmost peak of the snow-clad Himalayas, of j human omniscience 1 And this hyeh man, this hyeh insult to humanity in a papeh collah, he comes hyeh, to this august tribunal, and he asks you, gentlemen of the jury, to let him rob you of the money you have earned in the sweat of youh brows, to take the bread out of the mouths of the children whom youh patient and devoted wives have bonne to yon In pain and anguish—but I say to you, gen—iel — men—(suddenly exptodlng) HIS PAPEH COLLAH SHALL:BOAST IN HADES BBFC I WILL BE A PAHTY TO THIS HYEH INFAMY!" Finnegan was found in hiding in his cellar when his counsel came to tell him that he could not collect his Sldol 27 cents. "Bedad, Is that all?" he gasped; "I j fought Fd get six mont'a," People flocked from miles about to hear the Colonel. Recalcitrant jurymen were bribed to service by the promise of a Brereton case on the docket. His performances were regarded in the light of a free show, and a verdict in his favour was looked upon as a graceful gratuity. He made money—and he gave it meekly to Aunty Sabrine. It was the night of the great blizzard; but there was no sign of cold or wind when I looked out, half-an-hoar after midnight, before closing my front door. I heard the drip of water from the trees, I saw a faint mist rising from the melting snow. At the foot of my lawn I dimly saw the Colonel's familiar figure marching | homeward from some political meeting preliminary to Tuesday's election. His form was erect, his step steady. He swung his little cane, and whistled as he' walked. I was proud of the Colonel, An hour later the storm was upon us. By noon of Monday, Alfred Winthrop's house, two hundred yards away, might as well have been two thousand, so far as getting to ib or even seeing It, was concerned. Tuesday morning the snow had stopped, and we looked out over a still and shining deluge with sparkling fringes above the blue hallows of its fro—en waves. Across it roared an icy wind, bearing almost invisible diamond dust to fill irritated eyes and throats. The election was held that day. The result was to be expected. All the "hard" citi~ena were at the polls. Most of the reformers were stalled in railroad trains. The Beform Ticket failed at re-election, and Colonel Brerecon's term of office was practically at an end.

I we- outdoors most of the day, and that night, when I awoke about three o'clock, suddenly and with a shock, thinking I had heard Aunty Sabrine's voice cryifcg: " Cunnle I wheah are you, Cunnle ?" my exhausted brain took it for the echo of a dream. I must have dozed for an hour

before I sprang up with a certainty in my mind that I had heard her voice in very troth. Then I hurried on myclothes, and ran to Alfred Winthrop's. He looked Incredulous ; but he got into his boots like a man. We found Aunty Sabrine, alive but unconscious, on the crest of the hill. When we had found an asylum for her, we searched for the Colonel. The next day we learned that he had heard tbe news of the election and had boarded a snow-clearing train that was returning to the Junction.

It was a week before Aunty Sabrine recovered. When I asked her if she was going to look for the Colonel, she answered with gentle resignation: •• No, seh. Vm 'most too old. I'll stay hyeh, wheah he knows wheah to find mc. He'll come afteh mc, sho'."

Sixteen months passed, and he did not (Some. Then, one evening, a Summer walk took mc by the little house. I heard a voice I could not forget. " Hyeh, you black niggeh, get along with that suppeh, or I come in thah and cut youh damn haid offl ** Looking up, I saw Colonel Brereton, a little the worse for wear, seated on the snake fence. No • * * • he was not seated: he was hitched on by the crook of his knees, his toes braced against the Inside of the lower raiL His coat-tails hung in the vacant air. ._,-_. He descended, a little stiffly, I thought, and greeted mc cordially, with affable dignity. His manner somehow implied that I had been away. , ,__..- He insisted on my coming into his front yard, and sitting down on the bench by the house, while he condescendingly and courteously inquired after tho health ot his old friends and neighbors. I stayed until supper was announced. The Colonel was always the soul of hospitality ; but on this occasion he did not ask mc to join him. And I reflected, as I went away, that although he had punctiliously insisted on my sitting down, tbe Colonel had remained standing during our somewhat protracted conversation.