Chapter XIV: September 28 (2)

By this time Jim had brought Ruth in the buckboard, and I got in and drove out of the gate.

"Mr. Stout," I said, "I thank you very much for having driven this way so that Elihu could see me, and I have a favor to ask of you. If you are afraid to go back with me, at least promise me you will wait at the turn of the road, until I come back. I will drive fast, you won't have long to wait, but you must do it," and before he could answer I had driven off.

It was a very cold evening and nearly dark. In my excitement I had put on no extra cloak, but I did not feel the cold. In marvellously short time the four miles were passed and I stood at Mr. Haman's gate. Goliah opened it and I told him to wait there until I came back, as I did not want him to hear the conversation.

On my second call Mr. Haman came out and was of course much surprised to see me. He was most polite, and eager to invite me in.

"Come in, come in, Miss Patience, I beg you," he said, "this wind is too piercing for you. I beg you will let me tie your horse."

"Thank you, Mr. Haman, but I cannot come in. I have only a moment's business with you. I want you to give me an order to Mr. Stout to release Elihu."

With a smile of greatest indulgence he replied, "You know, Miss Patience, I'd do anything to oblige you, but my duty, my duty, madam, is my first consideration, and even for you I must refuse to do anything contrary to my duty."

"Tell me," I said, "of what he is convicted and what is the sentence?"

"He is convicted of cursing and creating a disturbance within fifty yards of the public highway, and the sentence is thirty days' work on the chain gang or a fine of fifty dollars."

"Mr. Haman, you must sign that release until the distance is measured. I know that it is more than fifty yards from the road to Bill's house, and until that distance is measured his committal to the gang is illegal. Elihu is a hard working, docile, respectable negro. If I wanted anything hard done to-night such as to send by land or water ten miles Elihu is the man I could call upon, knowing he would not refuse. If I had occasion to drive forty miles this night through the darkness, Elihu is a man I could trust to take me safely through the darkness and do it cheerfully. And you think I will see him put on the chain gang illegally? You don't know me, Mr. Haman."

He listened as if he did not hear, so determined was he not to yield and so accustomed to shake the law at people.

He said he would get the book and read me the section, but I said that was unnecessary, I knew the law; the point was whether this case was within the legal distance. Darkness was coming and I was making no headway. At last I said:—

"If I were to sign a note for fifty dollars would you give me the order for his release?"

"Oh, yes, Miss Patience, if you pay the money that'll be all right."

"Very well; bring me ink, pen, and paper and I will sign." He went in and returned very quickly with pen, ink, and a check. I had not meant to sign a check, but a note; however, I signed it in ink and then asked for a pencil and on the back wrote, "Not to be presented until distance is measured." He seized the check with delight; when he turned it over and saw the writing on the back his face changed.

"Now," I said, "will you give me the order for Elihu's release?"

"No," he said, "I will not."

I was still sitting in the buckboard and I just leaned forward and took the check from his hand. He was so taken by surprise that he was silent for a second; then he said:—

"I'll go down and measure the distance for you, Miss Patience."

"When?"

"To-night, right now. I'll get my buggy en you kin go right on and I'll follow you."

I was truly thankful, for it was getting very late and I was so afraid that Mr. Stout would not wait. I drove rapidly toward the gate, which is approached by a causeway. When I got well on that, a thought struck me; though it would be a singular trial to me, to save time I would offer to take Mr. H. down in my buckboard. I saw a negro woman near and said to her:—

"Please run in and say to Mr. Haman that Mrs. Pennington will be glad to offer him a seat in her buckboard and he can come back with Mr. Stout."

She ran off briskly and in a few minutes returned and said, "Mr. Haman say never min'; say him ain't goin'."

Fortunately I had taught Ruth to back all over the yard before a harness was ever put on her, for I backed her the length of that causeway in no time and was back at the house. Mr. Haman came out looking considerably worried.

"Mr. Haman, you will not get rid of me to-night until you have signed that release."

"I can't do it! When I write a warrant it's writ, and everybody that knows me knows that."

At this juncture his wife appeared and said: "Miss Patience, he ain't well and it's too cold for him out here; please, ma'am, to come in."

I answered: "I cannot come in, Mrs. Haman. I simply want your husband to write an order to Mr. Stout to release Elihu Green, whom he has sent to the chain gang for thirty days, until the distance from the road is measured."

"You're right, Miss Patience," his wife answered, and turning to her husband said, "Better do what Miss Patience wants you to do, an' come in out o' this cold wind."

Most reluctantly and heavily at last the words came: "You give that check to Mr. Stout en tell him to turn loose the nigger."

"And," I said, "you will send down early to-morrow to measure the distance?"

He was already disappearing in the door but assented, and again I started for home. Ruth by this time had got worked up and needed no whip; she knew there was something unusual in the air and she flew.

When I reached the turn by St. Cyprian's church, where Mr. Stout had promised to wait, it was so dark I could not see whether he was there or not until I came right up to him. There he was still in the buggy, and when I called, "Please come here, Mr. Stout," slowly he got out and came; I handed him the check.

He struck a match and examined it, then his whole face beamed and he said, "Then I kin turn Elihu loose?"

"Yes," I said, "and I thank you with all my heart for waiting; you have helped prevent a great injustice. Mr. Haman says he will send you down to-morrow to measure the land. If it is more than fifty yards, you will return that check to me; if less you will give it to him. Please come early."

Elihu was dazed with the sudden release as the handcuffs were taken off. After Mr. Stout left I gave Elihu a talk about the disgrace of cursing and making a disturbance, and I said:—

"Elihu, the distance will be measured and if it is less than fifty yards you will have to try and work that $50 out."

"Oh, yes, miss, de Lawd bless you, en I thank you too mutch, en I'll do all you want me to do."

And I made the best of my way home with Goliah behind. All the servants were wild with delight when they heard the result, and Chloe had a nice supper for me, but I was too tired to eat. The depths had been stirred within me and I could only go to the piano and play Rachmaninoff's grand prelude over and over until I was quieted.

Mr. Haman, the magistrate, is a man of foreign birth, and speaks broken English, a German, I suppose. He drifted here after the war and married the daughter of a very excellent old German who had bought a plantation and settled here at that period of change and unrest. Two years ago he was elected to his present office to the surprise of every one.

December 23.

The household was astir early this morning. As I felt it was a moment when I would like to have a gentleman with me, immediately after breakfast I drove over to my good neighbor Mr. F. and asked him if he would come with me and see the distance measured.

He said he would come with pleasure, and he got into my buckboard. Mr. F. with Jim's help measured and found the distance from Bill's house to the public road 250 feet, more than eighty yards. I was greatly relieved, for though I can generally trust my eye for distances I never had thought of this special space and had nothing to compare it with in my mind. It was simply an impression, I may say a conviction; and if it was wrong I would have to borrow $50, for I had not that much in the world that I could put my hand on at this moment.

Still I would rather do that than have Elihu punished and disgraced when he was really in the right.

Just as Mr. F. had finished measuring, Mr. Stout the deputy sheriff drove up in a very fine buggy with another white man. I greeted them pleasantly and begged them to measure the distance at once, without saying that I had relieved my mind by doing so already. Mr. Stout assisted by Mr. Oliver took the measurements and pronounced it 250 feet. Then Mr. Stout handed me my check for $50.

Thank the good Father for His mercies.

Christmas Day.

Drove to church, where we had a pleasant service. It had been given out that the collection would be for Sewanee. There was great excitement after service when the word was passed around that it was $7! Our plate rarely holds more than half that amount. Every one was very happy over it.

Then went to take the few things I had gathered up for the St. Peter's people to K.'s to be sent to them.

I had to go to the extravagance of buying a comfort for the poor Lewis family; the weather has been unusually cold, and they are so destitute.

I have been quite alone to-day, but not at all lonely, for I have put up candy for the children on the place and little packages for the old people. To-morrow I am to have the joy of a visit from my two nephews, one of whom has been living in New York and has not been here for a long time.

December 26.

E. and A. came about 1 o'clock with guns and dog—perfectly charming both of them—both full of zeal to shoot. I sent Jake up to get another boat and engaged him to come at 5 A.M. to-morrow to take them out. He is to get Aaron, who is a good paddler.

December 27.

Very early this morning Jake came and said he had failed to get Aaron. Jim came into the house, made the fires, and waked the boys; then went out to the "street" to get a paddler. First he went to Frankie's house; he was in bed and refused absolutely to come, saying he was too comfortable. Then he went to Gibbie's house; he talked a great deal, but finally said he would come.

Meantime E. got off in the light canoe with Jake. A. waited until Gibbie rode up on his bicycle to say that it was a very dangerous business, etc., and finally that he could not come, so Jim had to take A. out, though he is no paddler.

As soon as I heard what had happened I wrote a paper to Frankie and one to Gibbie. "You will leave this place at once," and sent it to them. Only yesterday when they came up for the annual powwow they made a solemn promise to do all that I called on them for. I made them promise this, because for some time there has been a growing disposition not to do what I want done, and if I let it go on and pass over anything like this I will lose all control of the place.

I am sitting out in the sun and have thawed out while writing this. Oh, the goodness and mercy of God! A sense of it pervades my being to-day. Though I have had my small trials already this morning, they seem as nothing when I think of all His patience and long-suffering and loving-kindness to me.

CHEROKEE, December 28.

E. and A. seem perfectly happy to be here, and their visit is an unbroken pleasure to me. They have not got very much game, but just to paddle round the creeks or to walk over the woods gun in hand seems to revive all the happiness of their childhood.

To-day we went to Casa Bianca for the day, and went prepared for them to spend the night if they found the ducks plentiful enough to make it worth their while. When they went down into the fields, Nat paddling one and Jim the other, I started back home alone. I got here after a perfect drive and glorious sunset.

To my great pleasure I found C. here, and then began to hope the boys would not spend the night at Casa Bianca. So I was delighted when at 9:30 the dogs announced their arrival. They had shot a good many ducks, but not having a dog to fetch had not got one.

We had a delightful evening. While I was gone to-day a man had brought a bushel of oysters fresh from the sea, so I could give them a nice oyster supper.

Gibbie came to-day and among other things said he never could paddle. "Yu knows yuself, Miss Pashuns, I neber could paddle."

"On the contrary, Gibbie, I know you to be an expert paddler," I replied. "So much for that excuse.

"Three of your children were born in the house I had repaired for you. Then the best house on the place became vacant and you asked me to let you move into that because it was nearer your brother's. I let you do it and charged no more rent. You were ill. I paid your doctor's bill, which money you have never returned to me. I sent you milk daily until you were quite well, and during your mother's illness of three months I sent her a pint of fresh milk night and morning until she died.

"Your wife this winter burned down the house you occupied. There is no use for you to shake your head and say no. What else was it when she sent your eldest boy, 5 years old, into the loft, which was packed with fodder and corn and hay, to get peas, with a burning lightwood torch in his hand? Instead of telling you that you must leave the place, as I could not furnish another house to one so criminally careless, when you begged me to have another house repaired for you to move into, I did so. The burning of the house was a complete loss of $300 to me.

"I let you off the rent of the house for the last month and waited on you for the payment on the other house long after it was due. All this time you told me you had no money and I waited, but you told other people on the place that you had $30 put away from your last three months' work.

"It would take a whole day to remind you of all the kindnesses I have done to you and all the meannesses you have been guilty of to me. And now my father's two oldest grandsons come to spend a few days at the old home shooting ducks, and I send for you to paddle one of them in a boat, not as a favor, mind you, but to be well paid for it, and you ride up on your bicycle to say you cannot do it.

"There is no use to say a word, Gibbie, I will not hear it. The time has come for us to part company. You must go."

He turned and walked down the step with a sullen look. I will miss the $2 a month which the two houses brought in, but it is necessary to do a thing like this once in a while.

CHEROKEE, December 30.

Mrs. L. has become greatly interested in the poor white people out at St. Peter's-in-the-Woods and she sent me word that if convenient to me she would come up to-day in her motor and get me to go out there with her to distribute some things which she had collected for them. I was so delighted at her interest that I said it would be perfectly convenient, and though in the back of my mind was the picture of the dining-room chimney place all torn to pieces, I asked the party to take lunch with me.

So early this morning I sent for Bonaparte and told him he must make some mortar and repair the fireplace and put back the mantelpiece and please to have it done by 12 o'clock so that Patty Ann could clean up the mess and make the fire and be ready for lunch at 1. All of which was done, and by the time the sound of the auto was heard everything was ready but myself.

I had been obliged to contribute greatly to the result and had not time to change my working outfit before they came. That did not matter, however. They brought a huge hamper and basket full of all sorts of nice things. The dear little girl had brought lots of her dresses and above all toys! Such beautiful things, Teddy bears and billikins and dolls and animals and clowns. They brought also groceries.

We had our lunch and then I joined them and we went the nine miles in no time. The visit to Louise Moore was most successful. She and her house and children were clean and sweet. That term could not be applied to the biggest boy, about six, however, as he had been skinning four possums, which were extended on sticks in the little porch.

Then we went on to poor old Mrs. Sullivan and her Dickens-like daughter. She was overjoyed at the groceries and nice things. Her great poverty was very apparent in her surroundings, above all the flimsy garments she wore, but all was clean. The next visit, two miles beyond, was also satisfactory, but alas, the last visit was a shock. Mother, daughter, and granddaughter were too untidy for words. I could not help wishing we had not gone there, it was so disappointing.

Certainly nothing could show more their need of help and industrial training. I had only seen them as a rule at church and had no idea this special family was so untidy. I had been to the home two or three times, but I suppose that was not on Saturday afternoon when everything, including ablutions, had lasted over since the Saturday evening before. This last visit rather dampened our spirits, though the little Frenchwoman, who had carried a large box of stick candy which she distributed as we went, found something pleasant to say even about that.

When we got back to Cherokee Chloe had a cup of tea ready and the party returned to Gregory. I felt anxious, it being late and cold. They left a large basket of things for me to keep for further distribution. I wish so I could get at the poor Lewis family with some of them.

Miss Chevy, who was visiting Mrs. Sullivan, answered when I asked about the Lewises in a high and righteous voice:—

"Yes, Miss Pashuns, they've gone away bag and baggage an' I tell you truly it's a good riddance, Mis' Lewis she acted that ridiklous with them children.

"A man come there one day in a wagon from de up country lookin' for han's to pick cotton, an' he asked me if them Lewises could pick cotton, an' I spoke up an' said, 'Yes, sir, they kin pick cotton every one o' them, 'en he jes' drove right to the house an' asked them to go with him en he carried them all off, father and mother and three children, en I'll tell you, Miss Pashuns, it's me that's thankful.

"You see I didn't tell no lie; he didn't ask me if they would pick cotton, but he ask if they cud, an' I up an' says they cud, but I didn't say they's that shiftless that they won't do it."

In the mail which I found when I got home I had a letter from a friend referring to an adventure which I had four years ago that I do not think I ever wrote down, so now I am going to do so, for I forget things so entirely. My friend had come from New York to make me a visit of a week. At the end of that time, wishing to be with her as long as possible, I drove her to Gregory in the buckboard to take the train. The train left at 4:30, which in the latter part of December is very nearly dark.

I had taken Jonadab behind the buckboard. When I started on the fourteen mile drive home, I felt dismayed, for I knew it would be dark soon. I crossed the ferry with the last light of the dusk and drove on into blackness.

I had only gone a little way, however, when we drove into a forest fire. Both sides of the road were aflame and Ruth at first was frightened, but finding it did not come into the broad, white, sandy road, she soon enjoyed the illumination as I did.

For about three miles we passed through this brilliant region, and then I saw we were coming to the end of it and would soon be in the darkness again, so I told Dab to get out and pick up a good piece of lightwood for a torch and light it, which he did, succeeding in a very short time in getting a long, fat piece full of turpentine, and just before we left the fields of light he lit it and held it behind so that it gave a very satisfactory path of light just ahead of the horse.

All went well until we came to a turn in the road where we had two bridges to cross and I feared, as they were narrow and without railing, that I might not see well enough, so I told Dab to get out and carry the torch in front until we crossed the bridges. This he did, walking quite rapidly, so that just after we crossed the last bridge the torch blew out; the rapid motion somehow being in front, made too much draught. Dab was much concerned, but I said:—

"It does not matter now, Dab, we are only three miles from home and I know every foot of the road; get up behind and we will soon be at home."

He got up behind the buggy and we went on several hundred yards, when there was a terrific report, and great flames of fire, blue, green, and red, passed over our heads. Ruth dashed, throwing me out on my head, upsetting the buggy, broke loose and disappeared in the darkness. I must have been stunned, for I got up quite confused, found no horse in the shafts, and just walked ahead, forgetting all about Dab.

As I walked on I heard the noise of the horse in the woods to the left of the road. I went in a little way and called to her. Fortunately she has always come to my call, and did not fail to do so now. I caught her and led her back to the buggy. I found both traces broken and felt hopeless.

By this time Dab, who must have been stunned too, came forward to help. I gathered all the strings that the resources of feminine apparel furnish, and tied up the traces, then without getting in, told Dab to lead Ruth off, which he did, but the buckboard did not move. I had no knife to cut holes in the leather, so no string could hold. Still making the effort to secure the two pieces together I said:—

"Dab, what did happen? I never have seen or heard such a thing before. Do you know what it was?"

Dab, stuttering fearfully, said: "'Tis—is—is—is de fiah cracker, ma—a—a—m!"

"What?" said I.

"Yes, ma—a—m, I—I—I buy six roman candles to town en I had dem een my bussom en me jacket button ober dem, en w'en the torch gone out I ben' down, en bin a blow um fu make um blaze, en a spa'k fly een me bussom en set off de roman candle, en den dem blow we up."

There in the darkness three miles from home, with no hope of mending the harness, I laughed until I sank on the sandy road. I could not stop laughing, to Dab's great amazement. Why his nose was not blown off I can't imagine; it had been such a near thing that he was much nearer tears than laughter, and he had expected certainly a scolding from me, and now this totally unexpected and unnatural laughter awed him still more.

When I resumed my efforts I saw far down the road a light drawing slowly near. When it got within hailing distance I called several times before I got an answer. I said: "Please come here, whoever you are. I am in trouble and I want your help."

They seemed reluctant and came slowly. When they got near enough and the light fell on me, one man said: "Why, my Lawd, 'tis you, Miss Pashuns?"

"Yes," I said. "Who are you? I don't seem to know you in the dark."

"No, ma'am, you don' know me, but I knows you well. I'se Rastimus en dis is my fren' Joshuay."

"Well, Rastimus, I want you and Joshua to fix my harness for me. I've had an accident and I can't manage it at all myself. Have you a knife to cut a hole in the trace, because we can do nothing without that?"

"Yes, my missus; I got a very shaa'p knife, en don't you worry, me en Joshuay'll hab um fix korrek, fo' yu knows it."

And true enough, though their motions were very unsteady and the air was redolent of firewater, in very quick time the harness was tied up in an ingenious and substantial way. Then I asked for the loan of the lantern. This they hesitated about, but when I gave my word that it should be sent to the store the next day with a little note of thanks and an enclosure for each, they consented, and I went on my way with songs of praise and thanksgiving in my heart for the many and varied dangers I had escaped. The next day the lantern was duly returned, with a quarter apiece for my knights-errant.

December 31.

Spent this last day of the old year writing letters of thanks and affection, and after dark I made up a bright fire, Chloe and Patty Ann having gone away on their Sunday outing, and sat in the firelight without lighting the lamps and reviewed the mercies and blessings of the past year. God forgive me for my mistakes and sins therein, my blindnesses and lost opportunities.

I keep wondering if it is His will that I should give up this life. I do not want to be headstrong about it. I have so loved the freedom and simplicity of the life, in spite of its trials, and isolation. The living close to Nature—the trees, the birds, the clouds, and all the simple loving dumb things.

But it almost seems as though I was meant to give it up. The rice-planting, which for years gave me the exhilaration of making a good income myself, is a thing of the past now—the banks and trunks have been washed away, and there is no money to replace them. The experiment of planting cotton has not been a success with me. The cotton grew luxuriantly and bore well, but others gathered it, and I got but little. I cannot sit idle in the midst of all this fertile soil. But I must wait, and watch, and listen, in silence, for the still, small voice, which comes after the storm and the earthquake, and brings the message from above.

Some Gullah words and their meanings:—

unna you all

een in

ne in the

fremale female

tissic asthma

tetta potatoes

fai' fairly, actually

bittle food, victuals

castle coffin, casket

FROM AN EDITORIAL IN THE "NEW YORK SUN"

We print to-day a South Carolina lady's story of her experiences as a rice planter on her own account, as the actual manager of two large plantations in that State. It is a story which is all the more interesting and instructive because it is told in a manner of charming simplicity and without a trace of self-consciousness or self-assertion. Independently of the information it conveys it has attraction for every reader by reason of that manner and as a revelation of a feminine character in which are manifested tender susceptibility and womanly sympathy no less than rugged courage in assuming an arduous task and persistency in overcoming heavy practical obstacles.

Mrs. Pennington is of the type of Southern womanhood which reflected so great honor on that part of this country during the period of slavery and may be said to have been a generation peculiar to the social system at the base of which slavery lay. The executive and administrative experience acquired by Southern ladies at the head of households on the great plantations gave them a distinction among American ladies which since the overthrow of slavery has been demonstrated by many of them in the practical management of large estates like that presided over by Mrs. Pennington and in other fields of enterprise usually believed to be beyond the sphere of feminine ability. The mistress of a plantation, with many negro slaves, usually so far removed from considerable social centres that in its superintendence individual resource was taxed to the utmost, was loaded with a multiplicity of practical details and duties of administration, and in the discharge of these she received an education as an executive officer which distinguished her among her American sisters.

Accordingly, when the Civil War, with its incident of negro emancipation, left the South impoverished and its social system upturned, some of the most efficient and most important agents in developing the new prosperity now so abundant were Southern women who had passed through that severe school of training, had been reared under its influences or been moulded by its traditions—resourceful, courageous, well-poised women, accustomed to command, tactful and self-reliant, yet at the same time endowed with the gentlest feminine graces and the most engaging feminine qualities of character and disposition.

The readiness with which Mrs. Pennington assumed the heavy practical responsibilities, the risks, the vexations, and the cares involved in her rice-planting ventures, and the sagacity, practical skill, and indomitable persistence with which she has pursued them, are not less impressive than the beautiful spirit of womanly humanity and religious devotion to duty which is exhibited so unconsciously, so spontaneously, in her simple narrative. No trace of resentment against the negroes from whose shortcomings she has suffered so grievously appears in the story. The feeling she manifests is rather sympathetic in its tender consideration of moral defects apparently inseparable from their inheritance as a race and from the conditions produced by the sudden revolution in their relations to those employing them. It is to such a spirit as Mrs. Pennington's that the welfare of the negro race of the South can best be trusted.

Mrs. Pennington closes her story with the expression of a fear that "this is a dull letter"; but she may be sure that every one of the thousands of people who will read her story will find in it a human document of touching interest, and will see in it a revelation of a character in which are illustrated the best and highest virtues and graces of womanhood.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] He planted at this time one thousand acres of rice
successfully.

[2] Marcus has since died. He was found one morning in his
stable, where he had gone to harness his horse, leaning
against the manger, stiff in death. He bore a high character,
and his death was regretted by white and black.

[3] "Yedde" means to hear in real gullah, which some of the
old darkies still use.

[4] "ne" is a contraction of "in the."

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Illustrated with half tone reproductions of photographs taken by the author and others.

Decorated cloth, 8vo. Preparing

A fascinating book of description and adventure has been written by the famous traveler and explorer, who has passed years of his life within the Arctic Circle. Mr. Stefansson has had a vast amount of material upon which to draw and he has made his selection wisely. He has lived with the Eskimos for long periods; he knows their language; he has subsisted on their food; he has heard their legends; he has seen them in their daily lives as have few explorers. Consequently his remarks about this primitive and matter-of-fact people are shrewd, true and frequently amusing. The experiences and tales which he recounts, mirroring the hardships and the inspirations of life in a fearful but wonderful country, compose a work quite the most absorbing on it that has ever been published.

Hunting the Elephant in Africa

By C. H. STIGAND.

With illustrations made from photographs taken by the author.

With an Introduction by Col. Theodore Roosevelt.

Decorated cloth, 8vo. Preparing

For a period of more than thirteen years the author of this work has hunted big game in the jungles of East Africa. Here are told simply and with an attractive modesty, yet dramatically, some of his most remarkable experiences. It is an old-fashioned animal hunting book with real thrills in it and revealing many new points on the habits of the beasts of a wild country. Captain Stigand is no nature fakir; his work is consequently a robust one in which is embodied the spirit of the real hunter. Colonel Roosevelt has written an introduction for the volume, which is illustrated by a number of very interesting pictures made from photographs taken by the author.

The Barbary Coast

BY ALBERT EDWARDS

Author of "Panama," "Comrade Yetta," etc.

With many illustrations; decorated cloth, 12mo; preparing

Albert Edwards's "Panama: The Canal, the Country, and the People" has gone into many editions and received wide and favorable comment. Much may, therefore, be expected of this new descriptive volume, in which Mr. Edwards relates some of his remarkable and always interesting experiences in the states of northern Africa. Mr. Edwards does not write with a history or a book at his elbow; what he says does not come to the reader from a second-hand knowledge. He has been in Africa himself and he writes out of his own life.

America As I Saw It

BY E. ALEC TWEEDIE

With illustrations; decorated cloth, 8vo; preparing

Many books have been written by people who have visited this country and have then returned to their native heath, but it is doubtful whether any one has gone at the task with such an abundance of good humor as has the author of this sprightly volume. Mrs. Tweedie says things, to be sure, about America and Americans that will not be wholly acceptable, but she says them in such a way that even the most sensitive cannot take offence. In fact, it is quite likely that her criticisms will provoke laughter as good humored in itself as the remarks which cause it. There is hardly a spot on the broad continent that does not pass under Mrs. Tweedie's examination, and scarcely a person of importance. She finds much to praise openly, but amusing as it may seem, these praiseworthy factors are not those upon which we expect commendation. Our dinners, our clubs, our educational systems, our transportation facilities, our home life, our theatres, our books, our art, all are analyzed and "Tweedie verdicts" passed. Of course the book is to be taken seriously, but not too seriously; Mrs. Tweedie would be offended if we did not laugh at her cajolery; that is what she wrote for.

THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
Publishers 64-66 Fifth Avenue New York