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Dr. Gaines and wife having spent the heated season at the North, travelling for pleasure and seeking information upon the mode of agriculture practised in the free States, returned home filled with new ideas which they were anxious to put into immediate execution, and, therefore, a radical change was at once commenced.

Two of the most interesting changes proposed, were the introduction of a plow, which was to take the place of the heavy, unwieldy one then in use, and a washing-machine, instead of the hard hand-rubbing then practised. The first called forth much criticism amongst the men in the field, where it was christened the “Yankee Dodger,” and during the first half a day of its use, it was followed by a large number of the negroes, men and women wondering at its superiority over the old plow, and wanting to know where it was from.

But the excitement in the kitchen, amongst the women, over the washing-machine, threw the novelty of the plow entirely in the shade.

“An’ so dat tub wid its wheels an’ fixin’ is to do de washin’, while we’s to set down an’ look at it,” said Dolly, as ten or a dozen servants stood around the new comer, laughing and making fun at its ungainly appearance.

“I don’t see why massa didn’t buy a woman, out dar whar de ting was made, an’ fotch ’em along, so she could learn us how to wash wid it,” remarked Hannah, as her mistress came into the kitchen to give orders about the mode of using the “washer.”

“Now, Dolly,” said the mistress, “we are to have new rules, hereafter, about the work. While at the North, I found that the women got up at four o’clock, on Monday mornings, and commenced the washing, which was all finished, and out on the lines, by nine o’clock. Now, remember that, hereafter, there is to be no more washing on Fridays, and ironing on Saturdays, as you used to do. And instead of six of you great, big women to do the washing, two of you with the ‘washer,’ can do the work.” And out she went, leaving the negroes to the contemplation of the future.

“I wish missis had stayed at home, ’stead of goin’ round de world, bringin’ home new rules. Who she tinks gwine to get out of bed at four o’clock in de mornin’, kase she fotch home dis wash-box,” said Dolly, as she gave a knowing look at the other servants.

“De Lord knows dat dis chile ain’t a-gwine to git out of her sweet bed at four o’clock in de mornin’, for no body; you hears dat, don’t you?” remarked Winnie, as she gave a loud laugh, and danced out of the room.

Before the end of the week, Peter had run the new plow against a stump, and had broken it beyond the possibility of repair.

When the lady arose on Monday morning, at half-past nine, her usual time, instead of finding the washing out on the lines, she saw, to her great disappointment, the inside works of the “washer” taken out, and Dolly, the chief laundress, washing away with all her power, in the old way, rubbing with her hands, the perspiration pouring down her black face.

“What have you been doing, Dolly, with the ‘washer?’ ” exclaimed the mistress, as she threw up her hands in astonishment.

“Well, you see, missis,” said the servant, “dat merchine won’t work no way. I tried it one way, den I tried it an udder way, an’ still it would not work. So, you see, I got de screw-driver an’ I took it to pieces. Dat’s de reason I ain’t got along faster wid de work.”

Mrs. Gaines returned to the parlor, sat down, and had a good cry, declaring her belief that “negroes could not be made white folks, no matter what you should do with them.”

Although the “patent plow” and the “washer” had failed, Dr. and Mrs. Gaines had the satisfaction of knowing that one of their new ideas was to be put into successful execution in a few days.

While at the North, they had eaten at a farm-house, some new cheese, just from the press, and on speaking of it, she was told by old Aunt Nancy, the black mamma of the place, that she understood all about making cheese. This piece of information gave general satisfaction, and a cheese-press was at once ordered from St. Louis.

The arrival of the cheese-press, the following week, was the signal for the new sensation. Nancy was at once summoned to the great house for the purpose of superintending the making of the cheese. A prouder person than the old negress could scarcely have been found. Her early days had been spent on the eastern shores of Maryland, where the blacks have an idea that they are, by nature, superior to their race in any other part of the habitable globe. Nancy had always spoken of the Kentucky and Missouri negroes as “low brack trash,” and now, that all were to be passed over, and the only Marylander on the place called in upon this “great occasion,” her cup of happiness was filled to the brim.

“What do you need, besides the cheese-press, to make the cheese with, Nancy?” inquired Mrs. Gaines, as the old servant stood before her, with her hands resting upon her hips, and looking at the half-dozen slaves who loitered around, listening to what was being said.

“Well, missis,” replied Nancy, “I mus’ have a runnet.”

“What’s a runnet?” inquired Mrs. Gaines.

“Why, you see, missis, you’s got to have a sheep killed, and get out of it de maw, an’ dat’s what’s called de runnet. An’ I puts dat in de milk, an’ it curdles the milk so it makes cheese.”

“Then I’ll have a sheep killed at once,” said the mistress, and orders were given to Jim to kill the sheep. Soon after the sheep’s carcass was distributed amongst the negroes, and “de runnet,” in the hands of old Nancy.

That night there was fun and plenty of cheap talk in the negro quarters and in the kitchen, for it had been discovered amongst them that a calf’s runnet, and not a sheep’s, was the article used to curdle the milk for making cheese.

The laugh was then turned upon Nancy, who, after listening to all sorts of remarks in regard to her knowledge of cheese-making, said, in a triumphant tone, suiting the action to the words—

“You niggers tink you knows a heap, but you don’t know as much as you tink. When de sheep is killed, I knows dat you niggers would git de meat to eat. I knows dat.”

With this remark Nancy silenced the entire group. Then putting her hand a-kimbo, the old woman sarcastically exclaimed: “To-morrow you’ll all have calf’s meat for dinner, den what will you have to say ’bout old Nancy?” Hearing no reply, she said: “Whar is you smart niggers now? Whar is you, I ax you?”

“Well, den, ef Ant Nancy ain’t some punkins, dis chile knows nuffin,” remarked Ike, as he stood up at full length, viewing the situation, as if he had caught a new idea. “I allers tole yer dat Ant Nancy had moo in her head dan what yer catch out wid a fine-toof comb,” exclaimed Peter.

“But how is you going to tell missis ’bout killin’ de sheep?” asked Jim.

Nancy turned to the head man and replied: “De same mudder wit dat tole me to get some sheep fer you niggers will tell me what to do. De Lord always guides me through my troubles an’ trials. Befoe I open my mouf, He always fills it.”

The following day Nancy presented herself at the great house door, and sent in for her mistress. On the lady’s appearing, the servant, putting on a knowing look, said: “Missis, when de moon is cold an’ de water runs high in it, den I have to put calf’s runnet in de milk, instead of sheep’s. So, lass night, I see dat de moon is cold an’ de water is runnin’ high.”

“Well, Nancy,” said the mistress, “I’ll have a calf killed at once, for I can’t wait for a warm moon. Go and tell Jim to kill a calf immediately, for I must not be kept out of cheese much longer.” On Nancy’s return to the quarters, old Ned, who was past work, and who never did anything but eat, sleep and talk, heard the woman’s explanation, and clapping his wrinkled hands exclaimed: “Well den, Nancy, you is wof moo den all de niggers on dis place, fer you gives us fresh meat ebbry day.”

After getting the right runnet, and two weeks’ work on the new cheese, a little, soft, sour, hard-looking thing, appearing like anything but a cheese, was exhibited at “Poplar Farm,” to the great amusement of the blacks, and the disappointment of the whites, and especially Mrs. Gaines, who had frequently remarked that her “mouth was watering for the new cheese.”

No attempt was ever made afterwards to renew the cheese-making, and the press was laid under the shed, by the side of the washing machine and the patent plow. While we had three or four trustworthy and faithful servants, it must be admitted that most of the negroes on “Poplar Farm” were always glad to shirk labor, and thought that to deceive the whites was a religious duty.

Wit and religion has ever been the negro’s forte while in slavery. Wit with which to please his master, or to soften his anger when displeased, and religion to enable him to endure punishment when inflicted.

Both Dr. and Mrs. Gaines were easily deceived by their servants. Indeed, I often thought that Mrs. Gaines took peculiar pleasure in being misled by them; and even the Doctor, with his long experience and shrewdness, would allow himself to be carried off upon almost any pretext. For instance, when he retired at night, Ike, his body servant, would take his master’s clothes out of the room, brush them off and return them in time for the Doctor to dress for breakfast. There was nothing in this out of the way; but the master would often remark that he thought Ike brushed his clothes too much, for they appeared to wear out a great deal faster than they had formerly. Ike, however, attributed the wear to the fact that the goods were wanting in soundness. Thus the master, at the advice of his servant, changed his tailor.

MRS. SARAH PEPPER GAINES.

About the same time the Doctor’s watch stopped at night, and when taken to be repaired, the watchmaker found it badly damaged, which he pronounced had been done by a fall. As the Doctor was always very careful with his time-piece, he could in no way account for the stoppage. Ike was questioned as to his handling of it, but he could throw no light upon the subject. At last, one night about twelve o’clock, a message came for the Doctor to visit a patient who had a sudden attack of cholera morbus. The faithful Ike was nowhere to be found, nor could any traces of the Doctor’s clothes be discovered. Not even the watch, which was always laid upon the mantle-shelf, could be seen anywhere.

It seemed clear that Ike had run away with his master’s daily wearing apparel, watch and all. Yes, and further search showed that the boots, with one heel four inches higher than the other, had also disappeared. But go, the Doctor must; and Mrs. Gaines and all of us went to work to get the Doctor ready.

While Cato was hunting up the old boots, and Hannah was in the attic getting the old hat, Jim returned from the barn and informed his master that the sorrel horse, which he had ordered to be saddled, was nowhere to be found; and that he had got out the bay mare, and as there was no saddle on the place, Ike having taken the only one, he, Jim, had put the buffalo robe on the mare.

It was a bright moonlight night, and to see the Doctor on horseback without a saddle, dressed in his castaway suit, was, indeed, ridiculous in the extreme. However, he made the visit, saved the patient’s life, came home and went snugly to bed. The following morning, to the Doctor’s great surprise, in walked Ike, at his usual time, with the clothes in one hand and the boots nicely blacked in the other. The faithful slave had not seen any of the other servants, and consequently did not know of the master’s discomfiture on the previous night.

“Were any of the servants off the place last night?” inquired the Doctor, as Ike laid the clothes carefully on a chair, and was setting down the boots.

“No, I speck not,” answered Ike.

“Were you off anywhere last night?” asked the master.

“No, sir,” replied the servant.

“What! not off the place at all?” inquired the Doctor sharply. Ike looked confused and evidently began to “smell a mice.”

“Well, massa, I was not away only to step over to de prayer-meetin’ at de Corners, a little while, dat’s all,” said Ike.

“Where’s my watch?” asked the Doctor.

“I speck it’s on de mantleshelf dar, whar I put it lass night, sir,” replied Ike, and at the same time reached to the time-piece, where he had laid it a moment before, and holding it up triumphantly, “Here it is, sir, right where I left it lass night.”

Ike was told to go, which he was glad to do. “What shall I do with that fellow?” said the Doctor to his wife, as the servant quitted the room.

Ike had scarcely reached the back yard when he met Cato, who told him of his absence on the previous night being known to his master. When Ike had heard all, he exclaimed, “Well, den ef de ole boss knows it, dis nigger is kotched sure as you is born.”

“I would not be in your shoes, Ike, fer a heap, dis mornin’,” said Cato.

“Well,” replied Ike, “I thank de Lord dat I is got religion to stand it.”

Dr. Gaines, as he dressed himself, found nothing out of the way until he came to look at the boots. The Doctor was lame from birth. Here he saw unmistakable evidence that the high heel had been taken off, and had been replaced by a screw put through the inside, and the seam waxed over. Dr. Gaines had often thought, when putting his boots on in the morning, that they appeared a little loose, and on speaking of it to his servant, the negro would attribute it to the blacking, which he said “made de lether stretch.”

That morning when breakfast was over, and the negroes called in for family prayers, all eyes were upon Ike.

It has always appeared strange that the negroes should seemingly take such delight in seeing their fellow-servants in a “bad fix.” But it is nevertheless true, and Ike’s “bad luck” appeared to furnish sport for old and young of his own race. At the conclusion of prayers, the Doctor said, “Now, Ike, I want you to tell me the truth, and nothing but the truth, of your whereabouts last night, and why you wore away my clothes?”

“Well, massa,” said Ike, “I’m gwine to tell you God’s truth.”

“That’s what I want, Ike,” remarked the master.

“Now,” continued the negro, “I ware de clothes to de dance, kase you see, massa, I knowed dat you didn’t want your body servant to go to de ball looking poorer dressed den udder gentmen’s boys. So you see I had no clothes myself, so I takes yours. I had to knock the heel off de lame leg boot, so dat I could ware it. An’ den I took ‘ole Sorrel,’ kase he paces so fass an’ so easy. No udder hoss could get me to de city in time fer de ball, ceptin’ ‘ole Sorrel.’ You see, massa, ten miles is a good ways to go after you is gone to bed. Now, massa, I hope you’ll forgive me dis time, an’ I’ll never do so any moo.”

During Ike’s telling his story, his master kept his eyes rivetted upon him, and at its conclusion said: “You first told me that you were at the prayer-meeting at the Corners; what did you do that for?”

“Well, massa,” replied Ike, “I knowed dat I ought to had gone to de prar-meetin’, an’ dat’s de reason I said I was dar.”

“And you’re a pretty Christian, going to a dance, instead of your prayer-meeting. This is the fifth time you’ve fallen from grace,” said the master.

“Oh, no,” quickly responded Ike; “dis is only de fourf time dat I is back slid.”

“But this is not the first time that you have taken my clothes and worn them. And there’s my watch, you could not tell the time, what did you want with that?” said the Doctor.

“Yes, massa,” replied Ike, “I’ll tell de truth; I wore de clothes afore dis time, an’ I take de watch too, an’ I let it fall, an’ dat’s de reason it stop dat time. An’ I know I could not tell de time by de watch, but I guessed at it, an’ dat made de niggers star at me, to see me have a watch.”

The announcement that Col. Lemmy was at the door cut short the further investigation of Ike’s case. The Colonel was the very opposite to Dr. Gaines, believing that there was no good in the negro, except to toil, and feeling that all religious efforts to better the condition of the race was time thrown away.

The Colonel laughed heartily as the Doctor told how Ike had worn his clothes. He quickly inquired if the servant had been punished, and when informed that he had not, he said: “The lash is worth more than all the religion in the world. Your boy, Ike, with the rest of the niggers around here, will go to a prayer meetin’ and will tell how good they feel or how bad they feel, just as it may suit the case. They’ll cry, groan, clap their hands, pat their feet, worry themselves into a lather of sweat, sing,