The Garies and Their Friends Part 15

[Footnote *: It is a penal offence in Georgia to teach coloured children to read.]

After walking some distance he took out a card, and read, 257, Easton-street; and on inquiry found himself in the very street. He proceeded to inspect the numbers, and was quite perplexed by their confusion and irregularity.

A coloured boy happening to pa.s.s at the time, he asked him: "Which way do the numbers run, my little man?"

The boy looked up waggishly, and replied: "They don't run at all; they are permanently affixed to each door."

"But," said Mr. Garie, half-provoked, yet compelled to smile at the boy's pompous wit, "you know what I mean; I cannot find the number I wish; the street is not correctly numbered."

"The street is not numbered at all," rejoined the boy, "but the houses are," and he skipped lightly away.

Mr. Garie was finally set right about the numbers, and found himself at length before the door of Mr. Walters's house. "Quite a handsome residence," said he, as he surveyed the stately house, with its spotless marble steps and shining silver door-plate.

On ringing, his summons was quickly answered by a well-dressed servant, who informed him that Mr. Walters was at home, and ushered him into the parlour. The elegance of the room took Mr. Garie completely by surprise, as its furniture indicated not only great wealth, but cultivated taste and refined habits. The richly-papered walls were adorned by paintings from the hands of well-known foreign and native artists. Rich vases and well-executed bronzes were placed in the most favourable situations in the apartment; the elegantly-carved walnut table was covered with those charming little bijoux which the French only are capable of conceiving, and which are only at the command of such purchasers as are possessed of more money than they otherwise can conveniently spend.

Mr. Garie threw himself into a luxuriously-cushioned chair, and was soon so absorbed in contemplating the likeness of a negro officer which hung opposite, that he did not hear the soft tread of Mr. Walters as he entered the room. The latter, stepping slowly forward, caught the eye of Mr. Garie, who started up, astonished at the commanding figure before him.

"Mr. Garie, I presume?" said Mr. Walters.

"Yes," he replied, and added, as he extended his hand; "I have the pleasure of addressing Mr. Walters, I suppose?"

Mr. Walters bowed low as he accepted the proffered hand, and courteously requested his visitor to be seated.

As Mr. Garie resumed his seat, he could not repress a look of surprise, which Mr. Walters apparently perceived, for a smile slightly curled his lip as he also took a seat opposite his visitor.

Mr. Walters was above six feet in height, and exceedingly well-proportioned; of jet-black complexion, and smooth glossy skin. His head was covered with a quant.i.ty of woolly hair, which was combed back from a broad but not very high forehead. His eyes were small, black, and piercing, and set deep in his head. His aquiline nose, thin lips, and broad chin, were the very reverse of African in their shape, and gave his face a very singular appearance. In repose, his countenance was severe in its expression; but when engaged in agreeable conversation, the thin sarcastic-looking lips would part, displaying a set of dazzlingly white teeth, and the small black eyes would sparkle with animation. The neatness and care with which he was dressed added to the attractiveness of his appearance. His linen was the perfection of whiteness, and his snowy vest lost nothing by its contact therewith. A long black frock coat, black pants, and highly-polished boots, completed his attire.

"I hope," said he, "your house suits you; it is one of my own, and has never been rented except for a short time to a careful tenant, who was waiting for his own house to be finished. I think you will find it comfortable."

"Oh, perfectly so, I am quite sure. I must thank you for the prompt manner in which you have arranged everything for us. It seems more like coming to an old home than to a new residence," replied Mr. Garie.

"I am delighted to hear you say so," said Mr. Walters. "I shall be most happy to call and pay my respects to Mrs. Garie when agreeable to her.

Depend upon it, we will do all in our power to make our quiet city pleasant to you both."

Mr. Garie thanked him, and after some further conversation, rose to depart.

As he was leaving the room, he stopped before the picture which had so engaged his attention, when Mr. Walters entered.

"So you, too, are attracted by that picture," said Mr. Walters, with a smile. "All white men look at it with interest. A black man in the uniform of a general officer is something so unusual that they cannot pa.s.s it with a glance." "It is, indeed, rather a novelty," replied Mr. Garie, "particularly to a person from my part of the country. Who is it?"

"That is Toussaint l'Ouverture," replied Mr. Walters; "and I have every reason to believe it to be a correct likeness. It was presented to an American merchant by Toussaint himself--a present in return for some kindness shown him. This merchant's son, not having the regard for the picture that his father entertained for it, sold it to me. That," continued Mr. Walters, "looks like a man of intelligence. It is entirely different from any likeness I ever saw of him. The portraits generally represent him as a monkey-faced person, with a handkerchief about his head."

"This," said Mr. Garie, "gives me an idea of the man that accords with his actions."

Thus speaking, he continued looking at the picture for a short time, and then took his departure, after requesting Mr. Walters to call upon him at an early opportunity.

CHAPTER XII.

Mr. Garie's Neighbour.

We must now introduce our readers into the back parlour of the house belonging to Mr. Garie's next-door neighbour, Mr. Thomas Stevens.

We find this gentleman standing at a window that overlooked his garden, enjoying a fragrant Havannah. His appearance was not by any means prepossessing; he was rather above than below the middle height, with round shoulders, and long, thin arms, finished off by disagreeable-looking hands.

His head was bald on the top, and the thin greyish-red hair, that grew more thickly about his ears, was coaxed up to that quarter, where an attempt had been made to effect such a union between the cords of the hair from each side as should cover the place in question.

The object, however, remained unaccomplished; as the hair was either very obstinate and would not be induced to lie as desired, or from extreme modesty objected to such an elevated position, and, in consequence, stopped half-way, as if undecided whether to lie flat or remain erect, producing the effect that would have been presented had he been decorated with a pair of horns. His baldness might have given an air of benevolence to his face, but for the s.h.a.ggy eyebrows that over-shadowed his cunning-looking grey eyes. His cheekbones were high, and the cadaverous skin was so tightly drawn across them, as to give it a very parchment-like appearance. Around his thin compressed lips there was a continual nervous twitching, that added greatly to the sinister aspect of his face.

On the whole, he was a person from whom you would instinctively shrink; and had he been president or director of a bank in which you had money deposited, his general aspect would not have given you additional confidence in the stable character or just administration of its affairs.

Mr. George Stevens was a pettifogging attorney, who derived a tolerable income from a rather disreputable legal practice picked up among the courts that held their sessions in the various halls of the State-house. He was known in the profession as Slippery George, from the easy manner in which he glided out of sc.r.a.pes that would have been fatal to the reputation of any other lawyer. Did a man break into a house, and escape without being actually caught on the spot with the goods in his possession, Stevens was always able to prove an alibi by a long array of witnesses. In fact, he was considered by the swell gentry of the city as their especial friend and protector, and by the members of the bar generally as anything but an ornament to the profession.

He had had rather a fatiguing day's labour, and on the evening of which we write, was indulging in his usual cigar, and amusing himself at the same time by observing the gambols of Clarence and little Em, who were enjoying a romp in their father's garden.

"Come here, Jule," said he, "and look at our new neighbour's children--rather pretty, ain't they?"

He was joined by a diminutive red-faced woman, with hair and eyes very much like his own, and a face that wore a peevish, pinched expression.

"Rather good-looking," she replied, after observing them for a few minutes, and then added, "Have you seen their parents?"

"No, not yet," was the reply. "I met Walters in the street this morning, who informed me they are from the South, and very rich; we must try and cultivate them--ask the children in to play with ours, and strike up an intimacy in that way, the rest will follow naturally, you know. By the way, Jule," continued he, "how I hate that n.i.g.g.e.r Walters, with his grand airs.

I wanted some money of him the other day on rather ticklish securities for a client of mine, and the black wretch kept me standing in his hall for at least five minutes, and then refused me, with some not very complimentary remarks upon my a.s.surance in offering him such securities. It made me so mad I could have choked him--it is bad enough to be treated with _hauteur_ by a white man, but contempt from a n.i.g.g.e.r is almost unendurable."

"Why didn't you resent it in some way? I never would have submitted to anything of the kind from him," interrupted Mrs. Stevens.

"Oh, I don't dare to just now; I have to be as mild as milk with him. You forget about the mortgage; don't you know he has me in a tight place there, and I don't see how to get out of it either. If I am called Slippery George, I tell you what, Jule, there's not a better man of business in the whole of Philadelphia than that same Walters, n.i.g.g.e.r as he is; and no one offends him without paying dear for it in some way or other. I'll tell you something he did last week. He went up to Trenton on business, and at the hotel they refused to give him dinner because of his colour, and told him they did not permit n.i.g.g.e.rs to eat at their tables. What does he do but buy the house over the landlord's head. The lease had just expired, and the landlord was anxious to negotiate another; he was also making some arrangements with his creditors, which could not be effected unless he was enabled to renew the lease of the premises he occupied. On learning that the house had been sold, he came down to the city to negotiate with the new owner, and to his astonishment found him to be the very man he had refused a meal to the week before. Blunt happened to be in Walters's office at the time the fellow called. Walters, he says, drew himself up to his full height, and looked like an ebony statue.

"Sir," said he, "I came to your house and asked for a meal, for which I was able to pay; you not only refused it to me, but heaped upon me words such as fall only from the lips of blackguards. You refuse to have me in your house--I object to have you in mine: you will, therefore, quit the premises immediately." The fellow sneaked out quite crestfallen, and his creditors have broken him up completely.

"I tell you what, Jule, if I was a black," continued he, "living in a country like this, I'd sacrifice conscience and everything else to the acquisition of wealth."

As he concluded, he turned from the window and sat down by a small table, upon which a lighted lamp had been placed, and where a few law papers were awaiting a perusal.

A little boy and girl were sitting opposite to him. The boy was playing with a small fly-trap, wherein he had already imprisoned a vast number of buzzing sufferers. In appearance he bore a close resemblance to his father; he had the same red hair and sallow complexion, but his grey eyes had a dull leaden hue.

"Do let them go, George, do!" said the little girl, in a pleading tone.

"You'll kill them, shut up there."

"I don't care if I do," replied he, doggedly; "I can catch more--look here;" and as he spoke he permitted a few of the imprisoned insects to creep partly out, and then brought the lid down upon them with a force that completely demolished them.

The little girl shuddered at this wanton exhibition of cruelty, and offered him a paper of candy if he would liberate his prisoners, which he did rather reluctantly, but promising himself to replenish the box at the first opportunity.

"Ah!" said he, in a tone of exultation, "father took me with him to the jail to-day, and I saw all the people locked up. I mean to be a jailer some of these days. Wouldn't you like to keep a jail, Liz?" continued he, his leaden eyes receiving a slight accession of brightness at the idea.

"Oh, no!" replied she; "I would let all the people go, if I kept the jail."

A more complete contrast than this little girl presented to her parents and brother, cannot be imagined. She had very dark chestnut hair, and mild blue eyes, and a round, full face, which, in expression, was sweetness itself.