IN A FATHER’S NAME.

Pelorus Guardian and Miners' Advocate., Volume 18, Issue 11, 5 February 1907, Page 7

IN A FATHER’S NAME.

BY BETH BELLIS,

WJ. I.MJU.I .1 , Although the first dull pain from a loss which involved both father and comrade had scarcely cased, though in disagreement with the family cousins and uncles and tho eccentric Aunt Sue. Polly was happy. She had ridden about the plantation with her father, knew the product of every acre, and was as jealous of the slaves’ love us a queen of her courtiers’. But the homes of Tennessee were not to keep their peace. The troubles at Nashville sent their vibrations up to Kdgewood. The town had its convulsion of anger when Andrew Johnson, elected at their own hands, slave owner and Senator from their seceding Stale came as Military Governor to drill tho bjacks before their eyes, to legislate out of office those who refused to take the oath of allegiance. No deeper anger ever burned against man, and no violence done him. Riots and meetings, blasphemy and curses surrounded him To these Southern men with their honour and love wrapped close to their convictions, he was but a trailer, Polly's heart was given to the South for weal or woe, and she despised the Military Governor, but her heart was troubled. Her father had loved Colonel Johnson deeply, tenderly ; admired him as a self-made man and championed his cause at all times. Uncle Pate's of the indignities shown the Colonel in the town wore verified by many things that followed and her thoughts were troubled. Polly s&t with Aunt Sue one night, reasons more telling than tho rain detained the men who loved to spend their evenings there. Uncle Pete stumbled in. “Fo’ de Lord, Missis !” he oxclaimed, “de man out dyah at do do’ say he gwine speak wid you quick.” Then a dark figure in a riding coat stood at the door. The face was so white and set that ho spoke before Polly knew him. “In your father’s name I come ; you must hide me,” ho said. “One little hour is enough,” ho added, for he saw no welcome in the pale face by the candle. The girl’s loathing for the man, her fidelity to her people were waging war against the love her father had borne Andrew Johnson. He. threw back his cl'oak, his clothes were torn and stained, a deep scratch on his hand had left it bloody and the water dripped to puddles from his clothes. He laid the stained hand upon her arm, and she felt it tremble. “My life depends upon it,” he whispered. He had evidently escaped from violent hands. Hoofs and voices were heard, and Aunt Sue ran from the door, leaving them in darkness. It was old Pete’s voice that said ‘‘Yo’s shakin’ like* a fiddle string, missus ; go 'long in de hous’ and leab do Cun’l ter Uncle Pete,” and still speechless she, turned indoors. Pete know well his master’s love for this man. In her numbness of feeling, Polly blamed Fate that she must needs betray either her people or her father’s friend. She knew full well that neither patrotism nor politics could have forced her father to disloyalty to a friend. The party in pursuit, several of them friends stopped a moment at tho house to explain ; they were looking for a man : he had come that way. She was trying to say 'Tie’s out there in quarters ’’ but the words would not come, and they rode on.’ Peter told many times the story to the slaves—those who ha*d not “jined the Yankees ” —and with .more similarity between the versions than might have been expected, "file las’ boss tail won’ thoo de gate when de Cun’l Jump out jes’ like rabbit when de dog smell him an’ he nuver stop tell he stan’ on do poach, steppin’ jes’ as spry jes’ like he nuver bin in de nigger bed. I 'lowed de missis ain’t proud on him, so I jes’ step up and say ‘Cun’l wuz dar anythin’ yo' wuz lookin’ for?’ an’ he mus’ seen do hint, fer he stop an' Ink meek like an' say he wuz lookin’ her do missus ho want pay his respect meats an’ ho want borrow boss, I ain’ tek him pass de hall when 1 fin’ missis in de big room whar de master done gone homo. She wuz standin’ side do mantel, like a queen done loss her throne, wid her face in do lace ob her sleeve and cryiu’ like she ain’ done senco marso said good-bye. Bofo’ I thoo sayin’ 'bout de Cun’l she rais’ her head like a rooster befo’ he crow de dew on her face like do pearls on her neck, an she wuz mighty pale ; she stan’ straight still an’ say fer to give him boss, but she doin’ want no speech wid him, an’ do her voice co'oke I know she mean what she say, and I feels so bad to see missis grieve, 1 pick do fast boss so’s de Cun’l quick git out her way.” And so he got away. Tho wide streets of Washington were alive with humanity, who heeded not the heat of July 3, 1865. Tho torrid air seemed a fitting atmosphere for the heart of tho nation which was pumping fevered blood through the veins of a country smitten of assassination. The tragedy of two months past was still vibrating through the brains of the people, the Military Commission had sat for behind closed doors and soon the world would know the doom of the eight Confederates. Small wonder that Polly's carriage was hold for hours before it reached to gain the White House, and she bad trouble to gain admittance. "I’m a personal friend, and insist upon my name being taken to him,” was said several times. There was waiting in ante-rooms, questions asked and answered, and finally she was escorted to the President. She was very beautiful, more so perhaps because she mistrusted him for the delay. ‘‘No assassin could ever run that gauntlet, Colonel,”- she said, as he greeted her. A silence followed, which spoke doubly ; he was a very busy man, her errand an import a m one. To make herself braver she ignored the President and remembered u-ie man. ‘‘ln my father’s name I come, Colonel,” she said, her words had tho desired effect and both thought of tho perilous night in Tennessee. “I come not for myself, Among the conspirators is a woman, a good woman. She is being tried before 10 mill tar. v men annotated by you, and

I have reason to believe she will receive little mercy at their hands. I ask you to protect her from a sentence more severe than necessary,.” Polly’s eyes flashed fire already for she saw he was annoyed. ‘‘You ask me to interfere where justice is 'being done, because one implicated in so foul a crime is a woman ?” he said. "I. wish you to see that the sentence of Mrs. Surratt is lighter than that of the men'found guilty to the same degree.” She could not have been more deliberate and commanding with a servant. “Nonsense ! nonsense !” the President exclaimed. “Feeling runs 100 high to stand any interference. I would not answer for the consequences of huch an act.” “1 quote'from your inaugural address to answer, Mr Johnson—‘Duties have been mine, consequences are Cod’s.’ It is your duty to see that no wrong against woman is to bo handed down into history while you are the highest officer of the country” The President was either angry or at bay. lie walked up and down the room, the muscles of his smoothshaven face rigid. Polly spoke sarcastically about ext citement failing, to run so high that a gentleman could not see his duty to a woman, but it earned her cause nothing. “What is the least that you will do ?” she asked, and waited with a calm confidence that disarmed him. She was on the eve a dozen times of reminding him of her service to ; him ; but it was too petty to ask a 1 service in payment for another. The! fact that lie was agitated and that he had not said “Nothing” as soon l as her question was framed encouraged her and sho pressed the point.' Then the tide turned. He came and stood near her with humility that 1 ' sat strangely upon him. > “I will do what I can. You may! go now and can safely leave your ro-; quest in my hands.” His of tone and surrender of manner was assurance enough, and sho left him with a happy heart. The conversation had been a short and heated one, but sho felt sho had conquered. She did not koow the man. On July 5 the proceedings, finding's .and sentences of the great, trial were submitted to the President. If he wavered at all in reading “In the case of Mary E. Surratt , to be hung by the neck until sho ba dead, at such time and place as the President of the United States shall direct, two-thirds of the members of the Commission concurring therein,”! no one knew it. The same day lie approved them and wrote his order setting the date for the execution. Polly stood her defeat well, with perhaps a shade less faith in men, and laughed heartily when she found the next official order from the Pro* sidont, following the one which dissolved the Military Commission, announced to the public that an impression seemed to prevail that the interests of persons required personal interviews with the President and thereafter such applications must be made in writing, etc. Author’s Note.—l regret that this contains so little of the kindlier nature of Mr. Johnson. His career was a wonderful one, marked with thrilling experiences! from the tailor shop—where his wife taught him to write—to the White House. Ho may have been hard ; but should we expect to find tenderness in a man whose faculties were developed for power and who marched from poverty stricken boyhood to the Presidency without having spent one day of his life in school. He faced opposition, difficulty, assault, and impeachment unmoved. Why should we ask more of Andrew Johnson ?