The Indiana State Sentinel

THE FIELD OF HONOR,

[Hamilton Jay in Detroit Free Press.]

Ananias Pickett, yellow, lived on one side of the branch, and Jerusalem Johnson, black, commonly called "Ju," lived on the other side. Miss Sophy Giggles, the color of an underdone buckwheat cake, lived about five miles from the branch, and was the cause of an undue secretion of bile in both 'Nias' and "Ju."

The branch itself is not of sufficient importance to be indicated in red colors on any map of these blessed United States, and yet its local coloring is entertaining enough to warrant its being taken from the somewhat moldy cupboard of obscurity and placed on the inviting center table of the present day.

The dark and bloody ground of Kentucky, with its expiations on the field of honor. Blennerhassett's Island with its tragic tale of love and dishonor, have both been embalmed in song and story. why not 'Possum branch with its Iliad of woman caprice, man's devotion, and the fearless heroism of fascinated hearts? The branch itself is a dull, sluggish stream about ten or twelve feet wide, running through the southern portion of Peon County. In the East it might be called a creek. In the West it might be signified by the name of river. In Florida it is simply a branch." A branch of what I am not at this moment prepared to state.

It is lined with live oak, water oak, cypress, persimmon, and some few other varieties of trees. The country road goes over it dry-shod, on a rustic bridge, shaky and decrepit, the nucleus of any amount of possible and probable accidents." The water is about ten feet deep and very dark. No one but a Coroner could possibly find any enjoyment looking at it.

The bridge also serves as a short cut for predatory foxes seeking through highways and byways for the succulent chicken, the philosophic turkey, and the disciple of a certain school of medicine-the duck.

At times the trees that line this bank take on a vivid beauty. The bamboo climbs to the tops of the tallest ones and flings a graceful crown over their swaying beauty. Scarlet coronals of unknown flowers emphasize the fragrant green, through which tiny birds peep and watch with wide-eyed wonder the creaking vehicle and strange figures that pass slowly by. Outbursts of rarest song can be heard there through the soft, languorous days, and swift-darting fins, like errant rays of light, ripple the waters below.

On the east side are a half dozen or so of rough log cabins, keeping guard over a few acres of broken soil; cotton and potatoe patches, the garden of long collards and turnips, the parterre of sunflowers and oleanders. Each demesne has its dilapidated chicken house, its rheumatic shed for the reflective mule, and its boudoir for playful swine. The owners and inhabitants of these freeholds are happy and careless negroes, raising enough to eat and a little to sell, basking in the sunshine, and obeying implicitly the scriptural injunction to take no heed to the morrow.

In a little log house standing on the very banks of the branch, in a crouching attitude, as if just about to leap into the waters for a bath, both cleansing and sanitary, lived at the time of which I write, Ananias, one of my heroes.

On the west side of the branch the scene was almost literally repeated, with the exception that one of the houses was of frame, with two rooms and a lean-to, and had forty acres of land attached to it. There lived with his parents, Jerusalem, my other hero, until the fiend of jealousy entered his otherwise placid bosom, and left wreck and ruin there.

Five miles off was another little settlement of the same genus, and here Miss Sophy, my heroine, helped bake the hoe cake in the ancestral mansion, and by washing for the neighboring planters' families, earned the shekels that went to purchase articles so dear to the average heart.

Ananias was tall and thin, elaborately so as to legs, and the suns of twenty-five years had enhanced the dingy yellow of his complexion. His eyes were of the vintage known as "pop," and the premature removal of three front teeth had given him a weirdly poetical appearance.

Among the intensely black surroundings, the fairness of the skin was a drawback, more especially as his parents, by some strange oversight, are both of the same orthodox color. In temperament he was somewhat haughty and passionate, and by his demeanor seemed to be continually protesting against his environments.

Although entirely ignorant of belles-lettres, or, in fact, of any letters, he was shrewd and forehanded, and was in a fair way to become something of a capitalist, when the unlucky collapse of the Freedman's Bank swept away the bulk of his garnered hoards. This made him moody and irritable at times, but did not impair his ability as a cotton picker, which was something wonderful to behold.

Jerusalem, or "Ju," was short and fat, and, like my old friend, Hamlet, somewhat scant of breath. His skin was so black that soot would have made a white mark upon it. His eyes were small and twinkling, indices of the good humor that animated his being. His lips were large and luscious, like slices of a ripe mango, and a No. 14 shoe gave him a dignity otherwise impossible to obtain.

His speech was slow and deliberate, indicative of a mind much given to inward thought, and his ears were large and wayward, restless with every motion that flitted across his expansive face. As an only son and presumptive heir to much land and some stock, his presence was always a desirable one at the little social gatherings that enlivened either side of the "branch." The woman in the case, Miss Sophy Giggles, was a winsome creature of some nineteen years, voluptuous as to outline, and tasty as to dress. Her complexion was a clear, healthy brown, and dazzling white teeth lent splendor to her frequent smiling. The way she tightened up her hair during the work, and let it out on Sundays, convinced all of her inherent genius, and her singing is said to have made many a mocking bird pull out its tail feathers in sheer envy.

She had worked two seasons in Tallahassee, also, as to her other charms were added the vague but delicious refinements of city life. No wonder the little boy Cupid rised her as a bow from which to launch his dainty arrows. Given the place and material, he could not have displayed much greater wisdom.

Both men were in love with her; that was plainly to be seen. Both settlements knew. snickered at or gossiped over it and speculated as to on whom the choice would fall. Sophy, like most of her sex, was a born coquette, and gave no sign of favoritism. If she went to a ball with "Ju" one night she went to a festival with Ananias the next, and accepted the six sticks of sugar cane with the same sweet smile and honeyed thanks from one, as she did the quart of peanuts and suspender buckle from the other.

Neither had ever kissed her-so she said-although the attempt had been often made and it was an open question as to who would eventually win.

The climax came one day in balmy June when the birds were singing sweetest, and the mud turtles felt a throb of joy in their gentle bosoms, and old Jenny was the cause of it. She had dropped into the house of Jerusalem's parents for a social chat, and finding no one home but his father, good old Uncle Hypothenuse Johnson, the conversation rapidly drifted in the direction of his love affairs.

"I hear your son gwinter be kicked by Sophy Giggles, Uncle 'Nuse. Am dat so?" said Aunt Jenny, inquisitively.

"I dunno. I dunno, Aunt Jenny," was the reply; "but ef she marries thet triflin', owdacious, yeller nigger, Ananias, she's gwinter be sorry fer hit befo' de y'ar am out."

"Well, Uncle 'Nuse, dat boy 'Nias am right peart boy, an' I hear he's got a right smart bunch ob cattle in do woods some whar."

"Right smart bunch ob cattle!" said Uncle 'Nuse contemptuously. "Sho', on'y got three bull yearlin's an' one ole cow. Look ever, Aunt Jinny," excitedly, "lemme show you wha' my boy Ju'll git when he gets married." And the old man opened a musty old trunk that stood in one corner of the room, and after much delving therein, and much hard breathing brought out an old stocking.

Glancing cautiously around, even going to the door to see if any one was approaching, he showed Aunt Jenny its precious contents, a goodly store of gold and silver, with some bills. Then, carefully replacing it, he resumed his seat.

"Huh! Right smart bunch ob cattle, eh? Aunt Jinny," impressively, "when thet boy ob mine gits married, he gits four-hun'er-d dollars-an'-twenty-acres-ob-good-lan'."

That settled it: as Aunt Jenny on her way home met Sophy when about half way there, there could be but one result. That night, by previous engagement, Ju took Miss Sophy to a festival held at the residence of Rev. Capsicum Grant. on the way back he got his courage to the sticking point, told his love and was coyly but promptly accepted. The kiss that followed nearly made an owl tumble from his perch near by, and so bewildered him that an audacious tree toad sang an air from Norma right under his very nose.

The news of the betrothal was known all over the neighborhood next morning, and then the storm came.

That same morning I was sitting in my office trying to evolve an editorial on the beauties of carpet baggism, when the door thrilled beneath a most lugubrious knock In answer to my "come in!" behold the long, lank figure of Ananias. His countenance wore a look of mingled ferocity and melancholy.

"Car'pen," said he, "I have come to you for some advice."

I shoved my writing materials aside and motioned him to a chair. Then I lit a cigar, the brand I particularly affect-O. P.-(other people's) and said, "Proceed."

He shuffled awkwardly to the chair, took a position on the extreme edge of it, and began his monody:

"Cap'pen, I has been courtin' Miss Sophy Giggles gwine onter two year. I has bought-en her lots ob candy, pinders, an' sech like truck, kerried her to festibules, camp meet-in's an' 'scursins, an' ob course I was 'spec-tin' to ax her to marry me, but yesterday, which was Chuseday, she went an' promise ter marry dat brack no' count nigger, Jerusalem. I don't care so much about dat, Cap-pen, but dis morning he stuck out his tongue at me, an' I nebber 'lows no gentle-man ter do that ter me, so I axes you what I mus' do."

It is the principal weakness of my many weaknesses never to allow an opportunity to pass for fun. Here was a brilliant chance. I embraced it.

" 'Nias," I said, "you are a gentleman, are you not?"

"Yes, sah," said he, "a Souf Car'liny gen-tleman, sah."

"Then," I replied, "you must challenge him."

"What is dat, sah?"

"You must send a note to him, saying he must meet you on the field of honor. In other words, you must fight him."

A smile played over his gentle countenance. "Lord bless you, cap'pen," said he, "sen' dat note right off. I kin butt dat nigger ter pieces."

"That won't do," said I sternly: "as a gen-tleman you must fight with a gentleman's weapon. You must challenge him to fight you with pistols."

His face turned a shade paler and he hesi-tated. I turned on him quickly, drew my chair close to him, and said impressively:

"'Nias, there is a tide in the affairs of love-sick niggers, which, taken at the flood, leads on to marriage. I know him well. He is a terrible coward, and will run just as soon as you present your pistol at him. Miss Sophy will hear of it. A'll women despise cowards. She will 'kick' him and you will carry off the cake. I will go with you, act as your friend, and see that all goes right. Will you leave the matter to me?"

"Is you sure he won't fight, cap'pen?"

"Certainly I am. Now you go home. Keep quiet. I will see you through this matter. and when you marry Miss Sophy, will dance at the wedding."

"All right, sah," he replied, and with a buoyant, smiling face left the office.

Half an hour afterward I was in the sad-dle and on my way to my old friend, Major Swivels. To him I repeated the whole affair. and besought him to seek Ju and act the part of second for that meeting. On my return to my office I wrote a formal challenge to Ju in the name of Ananias, and quietly awaited results.

Ju, through his second, Major Swivels, ac-cepted the challenge: pistols were named as the weapons and the following Friday as the time. Thursday afternoon the Major and I met and perfected all the details.

That night, for fear 'Nias might lose cour-age and desert me, I made him sleep in my office, and fastened doors and windows on him. About 5 o'clock the next morning I har-nessed my roan mare Nelly to the buggy, took 'Nias in, and started off. The boy was badly frightened, his teeth chattered, and I could hardly control my risibles.

With a careless movement of my foot I dislodged the cover of a box in the front part of the buggy and allowed him a glance at its contents. These consisted of a hand saw, a long, glittering pruning knife and an ordinary butchers' cleaver.

"What's dem fer, cap'en?" he said.

"They are surgical instruments," I re-plied. "You may be badly wounded, and I may have to cut off your arm or leg to save your life."

"Good gor-a-mighty, cap'en! let me git right outen dis buggy. He kin hab dat gal if he wants, an' sides dat I forgot to feed de mule dis mornin'."

"Silence," I said, peremptorily. "You have got to fight now, and if you try to es-cape I'll blow the top of your head off."

The poor young fellow was almost par-alyzed with fright, and becoming somewhat uneasy at his condition, I pulled out a flask of brandy and gave him a pretty stiff drink. After the liquor had partially restored his faculties I said to him, "Now, 'Nias, brace up and be a man. I tell you that Ju is an awful coward and will run just as soon as you point a pistol at him. Just do as I say and all will be well."

When we got to the appointed place the Major and his protege were already there. Ju was a sight. His eyeballs were rolling his cheeks were as ashen as they could get under the peculiar pigment of his cuticle, and no wonder, for in the Major's buggy were two huge pistols of revolutionary origin, with flint locks, a half-gallon syringe, a monkey wrench and a pair of horse clippers.

The Major saluted me in a grave, formal manner. I returned it as gravely and for-mally. Tying our horses to convenient sap-ling and leaving our respected charges seated, with strict injunctions not to stir, the Major and I retired some little distance for consultation.

"How is your man?" said he, almost chok-ing with laughter.

"Scared to death," I replied; "I had to brace him up with brandy.

"So did I mine," said he, "and now let's have the circus. I have loaded the pistols with powder only, of course, but so heavily that the discharge will knock the devil out of them at the first fire."

"That will be a good thing," I answered, "for their pastor assures me that he has been trying to do that for the last three years."

We gave the heroes another drink, and placed them in position, ten paces apart, pistols in hand.

The major won the word and gave it sonor-ously

"Fire! one, two, three!"

There was a terrific report, a vast cloud of smoke, and both men lay prone upon the ground. I rushed for Ananias and raised him up. The huge horse pistol recoiling had struck his nose, and it was bleeding pro-fusely. Ten paces away, Ju just recovering his senses saw the bloody face of his antagon-ist and yelling "Done kilt him," broke for the woods.

We called after him but to no avail. He kept on running and as we have never seen him since we suppose he is running still.

About a month later 'Nias came into my office, and looking up, bashfully said: "Cap-pen, is you gwine to town ter-day?'

"I am," I answered.

"Den if you please, sah, ax at de Pos'offis for Ananias Giggles."

"I thought your name was Pickett," I said.

"Dat was my maiding name, sah," he re-plied with dignity.

"I was married dis mawnin' ter Mis Sophy Giggles.'