xt7w9g5gbx43 https://exploreuk.uky.edu/dips/xt7w9g5gbx43/data/mets.xml Dixon, Thomas, 1864-1946. 19221921  books b92-200-30752042 English D. Appleton, : New York ; London : Contact the Special Collections Research Center for information regarding rights and use of this collection. Lee, Robert E. (Robert Edward), 1807-1870 Fiction. Brown, John, 1800-1859 Fiction. Man in gray  : a romance of North and South / Thomas Dixon. text Man in gray  : a romance of North and South / Thomas Dixon. 1922 2002 true xt7w9g5gbx43 section xt7w9g5gbx43 
 













BOOKS BY THOMAS DIXON



   The Man in Gray
 A Man of the People
       (A Play)
  The Way of a Man
  The Fall of a Nation
  The Foolish Virgin
     The Victim
   The Southerner
The Sins of the Father
The Leopard's Spots
    The Clansman
 (The Birth of a Nation)
     The Traitor
  The One Woman
      Comrades
   The Root of Evil
The Life Worth Living



176 E



I



-
-

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"'YOU'D LIKE YOUR PAPA TO COME BACK HOME FROM THE WAR"
                                                 [Page 4171

 





THE MAN IN GRAY
A ROMANCE OF NORTH AND SOUTH

              BY
       THOMAS DIXON
AUTHOR OF "TUB SOUTHERNE,  H "T  LEOPARDS S ,
1THE ITH OF A NATON,  T  CLANSA,



D. APPLETON AND
NEW YORK :: 192



COMPANY
::LONDON

 



































         COPYRIGHT. 1921, BY
         THOMAS DIXON

























1-TRhL! rD iN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

 

























       DEDICATED TO
MY FELLOW MEMBERS OF THE
KAPPA ALPHA FRATERNITY
     FOUNDED   UNDER
     THE INSPIRATION OF
     ROBERT E. LEE
           1868

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              TO THE READER

  Now that my story is done I see that it is the strangest
fiction that I have ever written.
  Because it is true. It actually happened. Every char-
acter in it is historic. I have not changed even a name.
Every event took place. Therefore it is incredible. Yet
I have in my possession the proofs establishing each char-
acter and each event as set forth. They are true beyond
question.
                                       THOMAS DixoxN
CURRITUCK LODGE
AIhwden, Va.

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LEADING CHARACTERS OF THE STORY



ROBERT E. LEE
MRS. L)EE
CUSTIS
MARY
MRS. MARSHALL
I-NCLJE BEN
SAM
J. E. B. STUART
FLORA COOKE
PHIL SHERIDAN
FRANCIS PR3STON BLAIR
SENATOR ROBERT TOOMBS
JOHN BROWN
JOHN E. COOK
VIRGINIA KENNEDY
GERRIT SMITH
GEORGE EVANS
F. B. SANBORN
REV. THOMAS W. HIGGINSON
WNI. C. RIVES
GEN. E. P. ALEXANDER
JOHN Doi-LE
MAHALA DOYLE
EDMOND RUFYiN



The Soutthern Commander.
His Wife.
His older Son.
His Daughter.
Lee's Sister.
Thle Butler.
A Slave.
"The Flower of Cavaliers."
His Sweetheart.
His Schoolmate.
Lincoln's Messenger.
of Georgia.
of Osauwatomie.
His Spy.
Cook's Victim.
A Philanthropist.
A Labor Leader.
Brown's Organizer.
A Revolutionist.
Confederate Senator
of Lee's Artillery.
A Poor White.
His Wife.
A Virginia Planter.

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      THE MAN IN GRAY


                    CHAPTER I

T g SHE fireflies on the Virginia hills were blinking in the
     dark places beneath the trees and a katydid was
     singing in the rosebush beside the portico at Arling-
ton. The stars began to twinkle in the serene sky. The
lights of Washington flickered across the river. The
Capitol building gleamed argus-eyed on the hill. Congress
was in session, still wrangling over the question of Slavery
and its extension into the territories of the W'est.
  The laughter of youth and beauty sifted down from
open windows. Preparations were being hurried for the
ball in honor of the departing cadets-Custis Lee, his
class-niate, Jeb Stuart., and little Phil Sheridan of Ohio
whom they had invited in from Washington.
  The fact that the whole family was going to West Point
with the boys and Colonel Robert E. Lee, the new Super-
intendent, made no difference. One excuse fori an old-
fashioned dance in a Southern Ionie was as good as an-
other. The mnain thing was to bring friends and neighbors.
sisters and cousins and aunts together for an evening of
Joy.
  A whippo'will cried his weird call from a rendezvous
in the shadows of the lawn, as Sam entered the great hall
arnd began to sight the hundreds of wax tapers in the chan-
(eliers.
                          1

 


2         HTHE MAN IN GRAY

  "Move dat furniture back now!" he cried to his assist-
ants.  "And mind vo' p)'s an(l q's. Doan ver break
nuttin."
  His sable helpers quietly removed the slender mahogany
and rosewood pieces to the adjoining rooms.   They
laughed at Sam's newfound note of dignity and authority.
  He was acting butler to-night in Uncle Ben's place. No
servant was allowed to work when ill-no matter how light
the tasks to which he was assigned. Sam was but twenty
years old and he had been given the honor of superintend-
ing the arrangements for the dance. And, climax of all,
he had been made leader of the music with the sole right
to call the dances, although he plaved only the triangle in
the orchestra. He was in high fettle.
  When the first carriage entered the grounds his keen
ear caught the crunch of wheels on the gravel. He hurried
to call the mistress and young misses to their places at the
door. He also summoned the boys from their rooms up-
stairs. He had seen the flash of spotless white in the car-
riage. It meant beauty calling to youth on the hill. Sam
knew.
  Phil came downstairs with Custis. The spacious sweep
of the hall, its waxed floor clear of furniture, with hun-
dreds of blinking candles flashing on its polished surface,
caught his imagination. It teas a fairy world-this gen-
erous Southern home. In spite of its wide spaces, and its
dignity, it was friendly. It caught his boy's heart.
  AMrs. Lee was just entering. Custis' eyes danced at the
sight of his mother in full dress. He grasped Phil's arm
and whispered:
  "Isn't my mother the my'ost beautiful woman you ever
saw k
  He spoke the wiords half te, himself. It was the instinc-
tive worship of the true Southern boy, breathed in genuine

 



THE M1AN IN GRAY



3



reverence, with an awe that was the expression of a re-
l1'o1in.
   ' I was just thinking the same thing, Custis," was the
sober reply.
  "I beg your pardon, Phil," he hastened to apologize. "I
didn't mean to brag about my mother to you. It just
slipped out. I couldn't help it. I was talking to my-
self."
  "You needn't apologize. I know how you feel. She's
already made me think I'm one of you-"
  He paused and watched Marv Lee enter from th'e lawn
leaning on Stuart's arm. Stuart's boyish banter was still
ringing in her ears as she smniled at him indulgently. She
hurried to her mother with an easy, graceful step and took
her place beside her. She was fine, exquisite, bewitching.
She had never come out in Society. She had been born
in it. She had her sweethearts before thirteen and not
one had left a shadow on her quiet, beautiful face. She
demanded, by her right of birth as a Southern girl, years
of devotion. And the Southern bov of the old regime was
willing to serve.
  Phil stood with Stuart and watched Custis kiss a dozen
pretty girls as they arrived and call each one cousin.
  "Ts it a joke" he asked Stuart curiously.
  "What "
  "This cousin business."
  "Not much. You don't think I'd let him be suck a pig
if I could help him, do you"
  "Are they all kin"
  "Yes " Stuart laughed. "Some of it gets pretty thin
in the second and third cousin lines. But it's thick enough
for him to get a kiss from every one-confound him'  
  The hall was crowding rapidly. The rustle of silk, the

 


4



THEAMAN IN GRAY



flash of pearls and diamonds, the hum of soft drawling
voices filled the perfumed air.
   Phil's eyes were dazzled with the bevies of the younger
 set, from sixteen to eighteen, dressed in soft tulle and or-
 gandy; slow of speech; their voices low, musical, delicious.
 He was introduced to so many his bead began to swim.
 To save his soul he couldn't pick out one more entrancing
 than another. The moment they spied his West Point
 uniform he was fair game. They made eyes at him.
 They languished and pretended to be smitten at first
 sight. Twice he caught himself about to believe one of
 them. They seemed so sincere, so dreadfully in earnest.
 And then he caught the faintest twinkle in the corner of
 a dark eye and blushed to think himself such a fool.
 But the sensation of being lionized was delightful. He
 was in a whirl of foolish joy when he suddenly realized
 that Stuart had deserted him, slipped through the crowd
 and found his way to Mary Lee. He threw a quick glance
 at the pair and one of the four beauties hovering around
 him began to whisper:
 "Jeb Stuart's just crazy about Mary-"
 "Did you ever see anything like it !"
 "Ile couldn't stop even to say how-d'y-do."
 "And she's utterly indifferent-"
 Sam's voice suddenly rang out with unusual unction and
 delilberation. Ile was imitating Uncle Ben's most eloquent
 methods.
 "Congress-man and Mrs. Rog-er A. Pry-or I"
 Mrs. Lee hastened to greet the young editor who had
 taken high rank in Congress from the dav of his entrance.
 Mrs. Pryor was evidently as proud of hier young Con-
 gressman as lie was of her regal beauty.
 Colonel Lee joined the group and led the lawmaker into
the library for a chat on politics.

 



              THE MAN IN GRAY                        a

   The first notes of a violin swept the crowd. The hum
of conversation and the ripple of laughter softened into
silence. The dusky orchestra is in place on the little plat-
form. Sam, in all his glory, rises and faces the eager
youth.
  TIe was dressed in his young master's last year's suit,
immaculate blue broadcloth and brass buttons, ruffled shirt
and black-braided watch guard hanging from his neck.
His eyes sparkled with pride and his rich, sonorous voice
rang over the crowd like the deep notes of a flute:
  "Choose yo' pardners fur de fust cowtillun !"
  Again the quick rustle of silk and tulle, the low hum of
excited, young voices and the couples are in place.
  A bov cries to the leader:
  "We're all ready, Sam."
  The young caller of the set knew his business better.
He lifted his hand in a gesture of reverence and silence,
as he glanced toward the library door.
  "Jes' a minute la-dees, an' gem-mens," he softly drawled.
"Marse Robert E. Lee and Missis will lead dis set !"
  The Colonel briskly entered from the library with his
wife on his arm. A ripple of applause swept the room as
they took their places with the gay youngsters.
  Sam lifted his hand; the music began-sweet and low,
vibrating with the sensuous touch of the negro slave whose
soul was free in its joyous melody.
  At the first note of his triangle, loud above the miusic
rang Sam's voice:
  "Honors to vo' pardners!'
  WVith graceful courtesies and stately bows the dance
began. And over all a glad negro called the numbers:
  "Forward Fours!"
  The caller's eves rolled and his body swaved ]With the
rhbythim of the dance as he watched each set with growing

 


fi          THE MAN IN GRAY

pride. They danced a quadrille, a mazurka, another
quadrille, a schottische, the lancers, another quadrille, and
another and another. They paused for supper at mid-
night and then danced them over again.
  While the fine young forms swayed to exquisite rhythm
and the music floated over all, the earnest young Con-
gressman bent close to his host in a corner of the library.
  "I sincerely hope, Colonel Lee, that you can see your
way clear to make a reply to this book of Mrs. Stowe
which Ruffin has sent you."
  "I can't see it yet, Mr. Pryor-"
  "Ruffin is a terrible old fire-eater, I know," the Con-
gressman admitted. "But Uncle Tom's Cabin is the most
serious blow the South has received from the Abolitionists.
And what makes it so difficult is that its appeal is not to
reason. It is to sentiment. To the elemental emotions of
the mob. No matter whether its picture is true or false,
the result will be the same unless the minds who read it
can be cured of its poison. It has become a sensation.
Every Northern Congressman has read it. A half million
copies have been printed and the presses can't keep up
with the demands. This book is storing powder in the
souls of the masses who don't know how to think, because
they've never been trained to think. This explosive emo-
tion is the preparation for fanaticism. We only wait the
coming of the fanatic-the madman who may lift a torch
and hurl it into this magazine. The South is asleep.
And when we don't sleep, we dance. There's no use fool-
ing ourselves. We're dancing on the crust of a volcano."
  Pryor rose.
  "I've a number with Mlrs. Pryor. I wish you'd think
it over, Colonel. This message is my big reason for miss-
ing a night session to be here,"
  Lee nodded and strolled out on the lawn before the

 



THE MAN IN GRAY



7



white pillars of the portico to consider the annoying re-
quest. He hated controversy.
  Yet he was not the type of man to run from danger.
The breed of men from which he sprang had always faced
the enemy when the challenge came. In the carriage of
his body there was a quiet pride-a feeling not of vanity,
hut of instinctive power. It was born in him through
generations of men who had done the creative thinking of
a nation in the building. His face might have been de-
scribed as a little too regular-a little too handsome per-
haps for true greatness, but for the look of deep thought
in his piercing eyes. And the finely chiseled lines of char-
acter, positive, clean-cut, vigorous. He had backbone.
  And yet he was not a bitter partisan. He used his
brain. He reasoned. He looked at the world through
kindly, conservative eyes. He feared God, only. He be-
lieved in his wife, his children, his blood. And he loved
Virginia, counting it the highest honor to be not seem
to be-an old-fashioned Virginia gentleman.
  He believed in democracy guided by true leaders. This
reservation was not a compromise. It was a cardinal
principle. He could conceive of no democracy worth
creating or preserving which did not produce the super-
man to lead, shape, inspire and direct its life. The man
called of God to this work was fulfilling a divine mission.
He must be of the very necessity of his calling a noble-
man.
  Without vanity he lived daily in the consciousness of his
own call to this exalted ideal. It made his face, in re-
pose, grave. His gravity came from the sense of duty
and the consciousness of problems to be met and solved
as his fathers before him had met and solved great issues.
  His conservatism had its roots in historic achievements
and the chill that crept into his heart as he thought of this

 




book came, not from the fear of the possible clash of
forces in the future, but from the dread of changes which
might mean the loss of priceless things in a nation's life.
He believed in every fiber of his being that, in spite of
slavery, the old South in her ideals, her love of home, her
worship of God, her patriotism, her joy of living and her
passion for beauty stood for things that are eternal.
   And great changes were sweeping over the Republic.
He felt this to-day as never before. The Washington on
whose lights he stood gazing was rapidly approaching the
end of the era in which the Nation had evolved a soul.
His people had breathed that soul into the Republic. To
this hour the mob had never ruled America. Its spirit
had never dominated a crisis. The nation had been shaped
from its birth through the heart and brain of its leaders.
  But he recalled with a pang that the race of Supermen
was passing. Calhoun had died two years ago. Henry
Clay had died within the past two months. Daniel Web-
ster lay on his death bed at Mansfield. And there were
none in sight to take their places. We had begun the
process of leveling. We had begun to degrade power, to
scatter talent, to pull down our leaders to the level of
the mob, in the name of democracy.
  He faced this fact with grave misgivings. He believed
that the first requirement of human society, if it shall live,
is the discovery of men fit to command-to lead.
  With the passing of Clay, Calhoun and Webster the
Washington on which lie gazed, the Washington of 1852,
had ceased to be a forum of great thought, of high think-
ing and simple living. It had become the scene of luxury
and extravagance. The two important establishments of
the city were Gautier's, the restaurateur and caterer-
the French genius who prepared the feasts for jeweled



THE 31AIV EV GRAY



8

 



              THE MAN IN GRAY                       9

youth; and Galt, the jeweler who sold the precious stones
to adorn the visions of beauty at these banquets.
   The two political parties had fallen to the lowest depths
of groveling to vote getting by nominating the smallest
men ever named for Presidential honors. The Democrats
had passed all their real leaders and named as standard-
bearer an obscure little politician of New Hampshire, Mr.
Franklin Pierce. His sole recommendation for the exalted
office was that he would carry one or two doubtful North-
ern states and with the solid South could thus be elected.
The Whig convention in Baltimore had cast but thirty-
two votes for Daniel Webster and had nominated a mili-
tary figurehead, General Winfield Scott.
  The Nation was without a leader. And the low runble
of the crowd-the growl of the primal beast-could be
heard in the distance with increasing distinctness.
  The watcher turned from the White City across the
Potomac and slowlv walked into his rose garden. Even
in September the riot of color was beyond description.
In the splendor of the full Southern moon could be seen
all shades from deep blood red to pale pink. All sizes from
the tiniest four-leaf wild flowers to the gorgeous white
and yellow masses that reared their forms like waves of
the surf. He breathed the perfume and smiled again. A
mocking bird, dropping from the bough of a holly, was
singing the glory of a second blooming.
  The scene of entrancing beauty drove the thought of
strife from his heart. He turned back toward the house
and its joys of youth.
  Sam's sonorous voice was ringing in deliberation the
grand call of the evening's festivities:
  "CChoose-yo-pardners-fer-de-ol-Virginy-Reel !"
  And then the stir, the rush, the commotion for place in
the final dance. The reel reaches the whole length of the

 



10          THE MAN IN GRAY

hall with every foot of space crowded. There are thirty
couples in line when the musicians pause, tune their in-
strum-ients and  With a sudden burst play "The Gray
Eagle." The Virginia Reel stirs the blood of these South-
ern boys and girls. Its swift, graceful action and the
inspiration of the old music seem part of the heart beat of
the youth and beauty that sway to its cadences.
  The master of Arlington smiled at the memory of the
young Congressman's eloquence. Surely it was only a
flight of rhetoric.


 












CHAPTER II



PHIL had finally reached the boys' room after the
      dance, his head in a whirl of excitement. Sleep was
      the last thing he wished. His imagination was on
fire. He had heard of Southern hospitality.  He had
never dreamed of such waste of good things, such joy in
living, such genuine pleasure in the meeting of friends and
kinfoiks. Custis had insisted on every boy staving all
night. A lot of them had stayed. The wide rooms bulged
with them. There were cots and pallets everywhere. He
had seen the housemaids and the menservants carrying
them in after the dance. Their own room contained four
beds and as many pallets, and they were all full.
  He tried to sleep and couldn't.  He dozed an hour,
waked at dawn and began day-dreaming. There was no
sense of weariness. His mind was too alert. The great
house, in which he was made to feel as much at home as
in the quiet cottage of his mother in Ohio, fascinated him
with its endless menservants, housemaids, serving boys,
cooks, coachmen and hostlers.
  He thought of the contrast with the quiet efficiency and
simplicity of his mother's house. He could see her seated
at the little table in the center of the room, a snow-white
cap on her head. The work of the house had been done
without a servant. It had been done so simply and quietly,
he had never been conscious of the fact that it was work
                          11

 


  12           THE MAN IN GRAY

  at ali. It had seemed a ministry of love for her children.
  Their help had been given with equal joy, unconscious of
  toil, her kitchen floor was always spotless, with every pot
  and pan and shining dish in its place as if by magic.
    He wondered how Custis' mother could bear the strain
 of all these people. He wondered how she could manage
 the army of black servants who hung on her word as the
 deliverance of an oracle. He could hear the hum of the
 life of the place already awake with the rising sun. Down
 in the ravine behind the house he caught the ring of a
 hammer on an anvil and closer in the sweep of a carpen-
 ter's plane over a board. A colt was calling to his mother
 at the stables and he could hear the chatter and cries of
 the stable boys busy with the morning feed.
   He rose, stepped gingerly beside the sleepers on the
 floor and stood by an open window. His mind was stirring
 with a curious desire to see the ghost that haunted this
 house, its spacious grounds and fields. He, too, had read
 Uncle Tom's Cabin, and wondered. The ghost must be
 here hiding in some dark corner of cabin or field-the
 ghost of deathless longing for freedom-the ghost of
 cruelty-the ghost of the bloodhound, the lash and the
 auction block.
 Somehow he couldn't realize that suchi things could be,
 now that he was a guest in a Southern home and saw the
 bright side of their life. Never had he seen anything
 brighter than the smiles of those negro musicians as they
 proudly touched their instruments: the violin, the banjo,
 the flute, the triangle and castinets, and watched the danc-
 ers swing through each number. There could be no mis-
 take about the ring of joy in Sam's voice. It throbbed
 with unction. It pulsed with pride. Its joy was con-
tagious. He caught himself glancing at his rolling eyes
and swaying body. Once he muttered aloud:

 



THE MAN IN GRAY



13



   "Just look at that fool nigger !"
   But somewhere in this paradise of flowers and song
birds, of music and dance, of rustling silk, of youth and
beauty, the Ghost of Slavery crouched.
   In a quiet way he would watch for it to walk. He had
to summon all his pride of Section and training in the
catch words of the North to keep from falling under the
charm of the beautiful life he felt enfolding him.
   He no longer wondered why every Northern man who
moved South forgot the philosophy of the Snows and be-
came a child of the Sun. He felt the subtle charm of it
stealing into his heart and threw off the spell with an
effort.
  A sparrow chirped under the window. A redbird
flashed from a rosebush and a mocking bird from a huge
magnolia began to softly sing his morning love song to
his mate.
  He heard a yawn, turned and saw Custis rubbing his
eyes.
  "For heaven's sake, Phil, why don't you sleep"
  "Tried and can't."
  "Don't like your bed"
  "Too much excited."
  "One of those girls hooked you"
  "No. I couldn't make up my mind. So many beauties
they rattled me."
  "All right." Custis said briskly. "Let's get up and
look around the old plantation."
  "Good," Phil cried.
  Custis called Jeb Stuart in vain. He refused to answer
or to budge.
  Phil found his shoes at the door neatly blacked and
the moment he began to stir a grinning black boy was at
his beels to take his slightest order.

 



14



THE MAN IN GRAY



  "I don't want anything!" he said at last to his dusky
tormentor.
  "Nuttin tall, sah"
  "Nuttin tall !"
  Phil smiled at the eager, rolling eyes.
  "Get out-you make me laugh-"
  The boy ducked.
  "Yassah-des call me if ye wants me-I'se right out-
side de do'."
  The two cadets ate breakfast alone. The house was vet
asleep-except the children. Their voices could be heard
on the lawn at play. They had been put to bed early,
at eleven o'clock. They were up with the birds as usual.
  The sun was an hour high, shining the glory of a per-
fect September morning. The boys strolled on the lawn.
The children were everywhere, playing in groups. Little
black and white boys mixed indiscriminately. Robbie Lee
was playing rooster fight with Sid, his boon companion.
The little black boy born nearest his birthday was dedi-
cated to be his friend, companion and body servant for
life.
  Phil paused to see the rooster fight.
  The boys folded their arms and flew at each other side-
ways, using their elbows as a rooster uses his spurs.
  Robbie was pressing Sid against the fence of the rose
garden. Sid's return blows lacked strength.
  Robbie stamped his foot angrily.
  "Come on now-no foolin'-fight! There's no fun in a
fight, if you don't fight !"
  Sid bucked up and flew at his enemy.
  Robbie saw the two older boys watching and gave a
star performance. As Sid lunged at him with uplifted
arims, and drew back to strike a stunning blow, Robbie

 



THE MAN IN GRAY



15



suddenly stooped, hurled his elbow under Sid's arm, lifted
hint clear of the ground and he fell sprawling.
   Robbie stood in triumph over the prostrate figure.
   Phil laughed.
   "You got him that time, Robbie !"
   Robbie squared himself, raised his spurs and waited for
Sid to rise.
  Sid was in no hurry. He had enough. He hadn't cried.
But he was close to it.
  "Ye needn't put up dem spurs at me no mo'."
  "Come on again !" Robbie challenged.
  "Na, sah. I'se done dead. Ye stick dat spur clean
froo me. Hit mighty nigh come out on de odder side!"
  "Got enough"
  The garne was suddenly ended by a barefoot white bov
approaching Robbie. Johnny Doyle carried a dozen teal
ducks, six in each hand. They were so heavy for his
hands that their heads dragged the ground.
  Robbie rushed to meet his friend.
  "Oh, John, where'd you get the ducks "
  "fle and daddy killed 'em this mornin' at sun-up on
the river."
  "WVhy, the duck season isn't on vet, is it" Custis asked
the boy.
  "No, sir, but daddy saw a big raft of teal swingin' into
the bend of the river yesterday and we got up before day-
light and got a mess."
  "You brought 'em to me, John" Robbie asked eagerly.
  "Jes the same, Robbie. Dad sent 'em to Colonel Lee."
  "That's fine of your daddy, John," Custis said, placing
his hand on the little bare sunburnt head.
  "Yessir, my daddy says Colonel Lee's the greatest man
in this county and he's mighty proud to be his neighbor."

 



16



THE MAN IN GRAY



   "Tell him my father will thank him personally before
 we leave and say for all that he has given us a treat."
   Custis handed the ducks to Sid.
   "Take them to the kitchen and fell Aunt Hannah to
have them for dinner, sure."
   Sid started for the kitchen and Robbie called after
him:
   "Hurry back, Sid-"
   "Yassah-right away, sah!"
   Blobbie seized John's hand.
   "You'll stay all day"
   "I seaD t.9'
   "We're goin' fishin'e-
   "Honest "
   "Sure. Uncle Ben's sick. But after dinner he's prom-
ised to take us. He's not too sick to fish."
  "I can't stay," the barefoot boy sighed.
  "Come on. There's three bird's nests in the orchard.
The second lavin'. It ain't no harm to break up the sec-
ond nest. Birds 've no business layin' twice in one season.
We ought to break 'em up."
  "I'm afraid I can't."
  His tone grew weaker and Robbie pressed him.
  "Come on. We'll get the bird's eggs and chase the
calves and colts till the dinner bell rings, ride the horses
home from the fields, and go fishin' after dinner and stay
till dark."
  "4No-"
  "Come on!"
  John glanced up the road toward the big gate beyond
which his mother was waiting his return. The temptation
was more than his boy's soul could resist. He shook his
head-paused-and grinned.

 



THE MAN IN GRAY



17



   "Come on, Sid, John's goin' with us," Robbie called to
 his young henchman as he approached.
   "All right," John consented, finally throwing every
scruple to the winds. "Ma'll whip Tle shore, but, by
granny, it'll be worth it !"
   The aristocrat slipped his arm around his chum and
led him to the orchard in triumph.
   Custis laughed.
   "He'd rather play with that little, poor white rascal
than any boy in the country."
   "Don't blame him," Phil replied. "He may be dirty
and ragged but be's a real b)oy after a real boy s heart.
And the handsomest little beggar I ever saw-who is he"
  "The boy of a poor white family, the Doyles. They
live just outside our gate on a ten-acre farm.  His
mother's trying to make him go to school. His father
laughs and lets him go hunting and fishing."
  They were strolling past the first neat row of houses in
the servants' quarters. Phil thought of them as the slave
quarters. Yet he had not heard the word slave spoken
since his arrival. These black people were "servants"
and some of them were the friends and confidants of their
master and his household. Phil paused in front of a
cottage. The yard flamned with autumn flowers. Through
the open door and windows came the hum of spinnirg
wheels and the low, sweet singing of the dark spinners,
spinning wool for the winter clothing of the estate. From
the next door came the click and crash of the looms weav-
ing the warm cloth.
  "You make your own cloth" the Westerner asked in
surprise.
  "Of course, for the servants. It takes six spinners and
three weavers working steadily all year to keep up with
it, too."

 


18



THE MAN IN GRAY



   "Isn't it expensive"
   "Maybe. We never thought of it. We just make it.
Always have in our family for a hundred years."
   They passed the blacksmith's shop and saw him shoe-
ing a blooded colt. Phil touched the horse's nostrils with
a gentle hand and the colt nudged him.
   "It's funny how a horse knows a horseman instinctively
-isn't it, Phil"
  "Yes. He knows I'm going to join the cavalry."
  They moved down the long row of whitewashed cot-
tages, each with its yard of flowers and each with a huge
pile of wood in the rear-wood enough to keep a spark-
ling fire through the winter. Chubby-faced babies were
playing in the sanded walks and smiling young mothers
watched them from the doors.
  Phil started to put a question, stammered and was si-
lent.
  "What is it" Custis asked.
  "You'll pardon my asking it, old boy, but are these
black folks married"
  The Southern bov laughed heartily.
  "I should say so. A negro wedding is one of the joys
of a plantation boy's life."
  "But isn't it awful when they're separated i"
  "They're not separated."
  "Never"
  "Not on this plantation. Nor on any estate whose
master and mistress o re our friends. It's not done in our
set."
  "You keep them when they're old, lazy and worthless "
  "If thev're married, yes. It's a luxury we never deny
ourselves, this softening of the rigor of the slave regime.
It's not business. But it's the custom of the country. To

 



THE MIAN IN GRAY



19



separate a husband and wife is an unheard-of thing among
our people."
  The thing that impressed the Westerner in those white
rows of little homes was the order and quiet of it all.
Every yard was swept clean. There was nowhere a trace
of filth or disease-breeding refuse. And birds were sing-
ing in the bushes beside these slave cottages as sweetly as
they sang for the master and mistress in the pillared man-
sion on the hill. They passed the stables and paused to
watch a dozen colts playing in the inclosure. Beyond the
stable under the shadows of great oaks was the dog kennel.
A pack of fox hounds rushed to the gate with louid wel-
coomc to their young master. He stooped to stroke each
head and call each dog's name. A wagging tail responded
briskly to every greeting. In another division of the
kennel romped a dozen bird-dogs, pointers and setters.
The puppies were nearly grown and eager for the fields.
They climbed over Custis in yelping puppy joy that re-
fused all rebuffs.
  Phil looked in vain for the bloodhounds. He was afraid
to ask about them lest he offend his host. Custis had
never seen a bloodhound and could not guess the question
back of his schoolmate's silence.
  Sam entered the inclosure with breakfast for the dogs.
  Phil couldn't keep his eyes off the sunlit, ebony face.
His smile was contagious. His voice was music.
  The Westerner couldn't resist the temptation to draw
him out.
  "You were certainly dressed up last night, Sam!"
  "Yer lak dat suit I had on, sah"