The colonel was a regular old-time Virginia colonel, and still stuck manfully to his blue coat and brass buttons and his buff nankeen waistcoat, in which quaint costume his clean, handsome, ruddy old face never looked handsomer. "Buff and blue is the costume for gentlemen to wear," the colonel would roar; and whatever he said, Yellow Bob echoed like a Greek chorus. "Yes, siree; dat sut'ny is so. I got a blue coat ole marse done gimme." The colonel's clinging to old days and old ways was pathetic. Although he swore forty times a day that the war had ruined him, it had not. There was enough left for the colonel and madam and the colony of their old servants, which, as the case frequently is to this day in Virginia, had settled around them. The colonel still had Yellow Bob to swear at, and Mrs. Randolph had Patsy to carry the keys and make mango pickle and peach cordial. But the age had swept them high and dry. They talked about things chiefly that happened in the 'fifties, and when they got into the 'sixties the colonel was apt to damn the Yankees so profusely that Mrs. Randolph was fain to ask him if he remembered
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 the trip they took to the Springs in 'forty-nine, when his pocket was picked of nine hundred and eighty dollars; at which the colonel and Yellow Bob would exchange winks. Yellow Bob knew that a race between Colonel Doswell's strawberry roan and Major Beverly's Sir Archy had more to do with the loss of that nine hundred and eighty dollars than Mrs. Randolph—good, simple soul—suspected. As for the colonel, the war did not make so much difference to him as he fancied. He now spent the best part of his life sitting on the broad front porch at Drum Point, with a julep handy and Yellow Bob within swearing distance, and for gentlemen of seventy-five, of the colonel's temperament, there is not much else to do. Horse-racing he regarded as out of the question, because he no longer had nine hundred and eighty dollars to throw away on it whenever he fancied. The colonel believed that the present age was utterly tame and devoid of incident, and loudly lamented that happy, bygone time, when duels, runaway matches, racing, betting, and other gentlemanly amusements were more in favor than at present.
"Damme, sir," cried the Colonel, fretfully, "nothing happens now; the young folks don't even run away and get married. A fellow calls another fellow a liar, and—dog my cats!—the other fellow goes and sues him in the courts, instead of shooting him down in his tracks. Did you ever hear of Jack Thornton? Now that man had some adventures, sir, in this very county, sir, that ought to be written in a book."
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Yellow Bob here took up the conversation. "Books is fur white folks—dat's what I say. Dese here fool niggers gwine 'long de road ter school wid dey spellin'-books is mighty disqualifyin' ter me. Unc' Isaac Minkins he k'yarn git up and preach 'dout a gret big hymn-book in he hand fur to read de Bible outen."
"Hold your tongue, you rascal!" bawled the colonel, highly pleased nevertheless. "The infernal free-school system, sir, and the unjustifiable application of steam to machinery, has been the ruin of this country. As I was telling you, though, about Jack Thornton; his land joined mine, and we were at William and Mary together. Well, Jack was as handsome a fellow as ever stepped, and the only man in the county that could beat me after the hounds. He had a very pretty property too, sir, and as likely a lot of negroes as there was in the county, and there was eleven hundred acres in the tract at Northend. By Jove! what jolly bachelor dinners he used to give there! Eh, Bob? I got mighty near being kicked by the madam for a little turn about we had at one of those dinners. That dinner, sir, lasted three days, and I rode my horse up the front stairs into Jack's bedroom. Ah, they were days!"
"An' missis—she was Miss Sally Ambler den—she meet me in de road when I was k'yarin' ole marse home in de chaise, an' he k'yarn say a word. And I say: 'Sarvint, missis. Marse, he mighty sick; I feerd he ain't gwi' live twell de doctor git ter him.' And Miss Sally she bust out cryin' and
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 jump off'n her horse, and come ter de chaise an' look in marse's face. An' he 'gin ter holler an' say: 'I ain't sick, my dear; I'm drunk as a lord—hic. An' ef you knew how jolly I feel, you'd go an' git drunk yerself.' Missis she turn away, an'—"
"Zounds, sir! do you propose to tell the secrets of my life, you yellow scoundrel? But it's true. I had a hard time bringing the madam round, and by the Lord I don't believe I'd have done it at all but for Jack Thornton. He swore he had made me tight, when, ha! ha! ha! I could drink him under the table any day in the week. The madam believed Jack, thank God! though. Well, as I was telling you, there were some monstrous exciting things in Jack's life. First, after he had settled down to live like a gentleman at Northend, old Smithers got his note for ten thousand dollars to pay some debts of honor Jack had made; and then the doggoned interest began piling up, and the black measles broke out among his negroes, and he lost nearly half of them, and we had a drought two years in succession, and the first thing I knew Jack was a bankrupt. Old Scaife Beverly, Jack's uncle, was as rich as a Jew, and had thousands of dollars in his secretary; but the old skinflint said something or other about Jack's squandering his patrimony, and Jack swore he'd see the old rascal at Davy Jones's before he'd take a cent from him; so there he was, strapped and stranded. Well, about that time there was an election for sheriff, and Jack came to me and consulted
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 me about his running for sheriff, and I told him he couldn't do better; and the fact was, if he didn't get hold of some ready money he'd have to sell his negroes, and that was what he mortally hated, of course. So the next court day" (the colonel pronounced it cote day) "he announced himself as a candidate. I made a speech myself on the court-house green, calling upon the gentlemen of the county to support him. I was always counted a good speaker, sir, when I was in the House of Delegates."
"An' ole missus she was allers a mighty good han' at writin' o' de speeches," chimed in Yellow Bob.
"You bandy-legged rascal," shouted the Colonel, angrily, turning very red, "I've a great mind to kick you off this plantation, as I've had every day for forty odd years."
Here Bob created a diversion. "Dat sut'ny was a good speech you made fur Marse Jack. Missis she was in Richmon' when dat speech was spoke. De folks dey holler an' whoop, an' Marse Jack Thornton he came up an' shooken old Marse's han' and says, 'Ef I'm 'lected, I'll owe it to you, Kun'l.'"
"So he did—so he did," said the Colonel, somewhat mollified. "But still 'twas very surprising to see Jack Thornton performing the sheriff's duties—and he had no deputy either. I was mightily afraid he'd hurt his chances with Virginia Berkeley; and so it did, because Virginia turned around and married Miles Corbin about the time Jack was
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 elected. However, I couldn't blame her very much. She was only seventeen, and Jack was too proud to go to Colonel Berkeley's house after he had lost pretty near everything; and Virginia afterward confessed to the madam that she married Miles Corbin as much to spite Jack as to please her father. Corbin was worth every cent of two hundred thousand dollars, and was a mighty prim, proper fellow; never touched a card, didn't get drunk occasionally like a good fellow; but for all his straight-laced ways he had a devil of a temper. He used to whip his negroes and then hand round the plate in church. Damme, sir, if I didn't button up my breeches' pocket and look him square in the eye whenever he handed his infernal plate to me; and communion Sundays, when I went up to the rail with madam, I made him stand out of my way, sir, with as little ceremony as if he'd been a poodle dog. As for Virginia Berkeley, she was a girl of tremendous spirit, and she led Miles Corbin a dance, I'm happy to say. She was pretty as a picture, too; wasn't she, Bob?"
"Pretty!" echoed Yellow Bob—"she was the prettiest 'oman ever I seed, scusin' 'twas missis when she was fust married. Miss Ferginny, she had black eyes dat f'yarly bu'n a hole in you when she look at you. She had the leetlest foot an' han', an' when she laugh, de dimples come out all over her face."
"That's so; and her mouth—God bless me! Well, everybody knew that she and Miles Corbin wouldn't pull in harness together, and of course
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 they quarreled like the devil. Virginia was a thorough-bred, and she held her head up high; but sometimes, the madam says, Virginia would come over here and cry as if her heart would break. And the madam soon found out that Jack Thornton was the reason of it. I don't think Virginia ever tried to get along with Corbin, although God knows no woman could have done it; but they hadn't been married a month before they had it hot and heavy."
"Ole Unc' Snake-root Jim say she throwed a kittle of bilin' water at him fust time he cuss her. Maybe dat's what dey calls hot and heavy," remarked Bob.
"Anyhow ugly stories began to get out about the way things were going at Corbin Hall. Jack Thornton never went there, and kept out of Virginia Corbin's way as much as he could; besides, he spent all his time nearly riding over the country on sheriff's duty. He told madam if he hadn't been elected sheriff, and had to keep on the move, he'd have blown his brains out sitting down and doing nothing at Northend, and thinking about Virginia Corbin and her misery. Queer fellow in some ways, Jack was. Seemed to like work after he got used to it. Anyway it began to be talked about that Miles Corbin—the sanctimonious devil—had struck Virginia Berkeley more than once. Some people did not believe it, because when they first began to disagree, Virginia had been heard to say that if Miles ever laid his hand on her she'd kill him—and she would have done it, too. The
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 Berkeleys are that kind, though I must say that when Virginia had her own way she was as amiable as anybody I ever saw, and if Miles Corbin had treated her right she would have made him a good wife. But she was one that couldn't stand whip and spur. It happened, though, that Jack Thornton one night, coming home from court, found one of Corbin's servants lying at the lane gate of Corbin Hall with a broken leg. So although he had sworn he'd never darken Miles Corbin's doors, yet he had to take the fellow up in his gig and drive up to Corbin Hall. It was about eleven o'clock at night, and the negroes had all gone to bed, but there was a light in the house and a commotion going on. The dogs started too, but Jack soon stopped them—I never saw a dog in my life that wouldn't fawn on handsome Jack—when, as he told me afterward, the hall door flew open, and Virginia Corbin rushed out and almost into Jack Thornton's arms. Miles Corbin was right after her with his fist doubled up. Jack says he was so dumbfounded his head reeled, but he heard Miles order her to come back into the house. Then Virginia straightened herself up and said, "I'll come back, because I'm not afraid of you; but I want to tell you now that if ever you raise your hand against me I'll kill you as surely as I live. You've never driven me to much—I've submitted and waited and hated—but a very little more will drive me to murder." Then from somewhere in her dress she pulled out a pistol. "Do you see this? Well, I got it for just such an emergency as may
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 happen. Jack Thornton, do you hear me?" At this Jack jumped at Corbin, and catching him by the collar, walloped him until Corbin yelled. But he didn't stop for that; he laid it on as long as he could stand it, and then kicked Corbin all over the porch. The darky with the broken leg began to holler, and that brought all the other negroes trooping out; and at least forty of them saw the trouncing. And then Virginia showed them the pistol, and told them what she meant to do if he ever struck her again. Well, it was hushed up as far as possible. Virginia was the proudest woman I ever saw; and she asked Jack to keep it quiet. And so, while everybody knew that she and Miles Corbin had had a big flare-up, nobody exactly knew the circumstances. Virginia didn't even tell the madam.
"So things went on for a year or two, until one night I was waked by hearing that lazy yellow fellow yonder tapping at my window. He had been to Corbin Hall courting a black girl over there, when Corbin died—for he died from a pistol wound."
"I had jes' done tell Ma'y Jane—um! she were a gal—good-night," said Yellow Bob, taking up the thread of the story, "an' I was comin' through de front yard, when I see de lights bu'nin' in de parlor, an' heerd Marse Miles Corbin a-yellin' at Miss Ferginny. I was skeered ter go 'way an' skeered ter stay; but pres'n'y I hear her scream, an' I run in, an' d'yar was Marse Miles layin' on de sofa wid de blood po'in' from he hade. Miss
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 Ferginny she stan' up lookin' mighty cur'us, wid a smokin' pistol in her han'. Marse Miles he groan, but seem like Miss Ferginny didn't hear 'im. I run an' fotch him a piller, an' gin him some water, an' den I tuck out ter de quarters ter raise de black folks an' de overseer. Dey all come runnin'. De overseer he was de po'est kin' of po' white trash. He jes' come right out in cote an' tole ev'ything he see dat night; an' de black folks dey all stan' up for Miss Ferginny, an' 'low dey didn't see nuttin' 'tall."
"That's so," said the colonel; "for Virginia Berkeley had to stand up in the prisoner's dock, and every negro on the land swore they hadn't seen a pistol, hadn't heard a quarrel, didn't know anything about it, and that Virginia was the best mistress in the world. When I got there that night Miles Corbin was dead, the low-lived dog! Virginia met me and the madam. 'I didn't kill him,' she said, as quiet as you please, 'although I meant to do it. He struck me, and I went and got the pistol. He got it from me, and went to the table to withdraw the load, when he got nervous—he always was a coward—and it went off.' Madam looked at her. 'Has he ever really beaten you?' she asked. For answer Virginia laughed a dreadful kind of a laugh, and, pulling up her sleeve, showed her the marks of Corbin's fingers. 'Look here!' she said, showing her a great bruise on her shoulder-blade. Madam just burst out crying, and put her arms around Virginia. 'Thank God,' she said, 'you didn't kill him!' You can
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 just imagine the commotion it raised; but everything would have been settled at the inquest if it hadn't been for that dog of an overseer. He and Miles Corbin had been associates. A gentleman associating with his overseer! And Mrs. Corbin had ordered him out of her drawing-room not long before; so he owed her a grudge, and he paid it. Such a talk and hubbub was raised that at the next county court the grand jury returned a true bill against Virginia Berkeley Corbin for the murder of her husband. By George!" said the colonel, pausing to wipe his forehead. "As for Jack Thornton, he nearly went crazy. At first he said he'd resign the shrievalty, or kill himself, before he'd serve the summons on her. She was staying here where madam had brought her the night Miles Corbin died. But the Board of Magistrates—we didn't have a tuppence-ha'penny county court then, but gentlemen served as magistrates—the board sent for him, and reasoned about the trouble and expense he'd put the county to if he resigned that way without notice; and Mrs. Corbin sent him word that the greatest service he could do her was to remain in office until after the trial was over. So at last he consented, but I thought he'd die the day he served the writ on her."
The colonel paused again, confronted by the dead and gone tragedy.
"Good Gord A'mighty!" said Yellow Bob, slowly and solemnly. "I 'member dat day, an' I gwi' 'member it twell judgment day. 'Twas 'bout time de fish bite in June. Missis didn't 'ten' ter
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 de chickens er de cows er nuttin' den. She was all time projeckin' wid Miss Ferginny. Seem like she didn't keer whe'r de tuckey aigs hatch, er de cows give milk, er de 'taters come up in de g'yarden, she was so tooken up wid Miss Ferginny. When Marse Jack Thornton rid up in de yard dat day I never see a man look like him. He was de color of a ash-cake 'fo' de ashes is washed off. Miss Ferginny she was settin' on de po'ch wid ole marse an' missis when he come up de steps. When he come to'ds her he stop an' look like he gwi' drop. An' ole marse, he go up ter him, an' missis, an' den Miss Ferginny she walk to'ds him an' hol' out her han'."
Another long pause came.
"I dunno what she say, but ole marse help him fin' a paper, an' he show it ter 'em, an' dey all git in de big kerridge an' go up ter de cote-house. An' I set on de boot wid Unc' Torm Driver, an' Patsy she rid on de place fur de trunk behin'. Missis and Miss Ferginny was inside, an' ole marse he rid horseback wid Marse Jack Thornton."
"They bailed her to appear at the next term of the circuit court," said the colonel, whose turn it was now to tell the story; "and half the county was there to ask the honor of going on her bond. But she only took me and her counsel, Mr. Severn. You see everybody knew she was innocent, and that it was only the malice of that villain of an overseer to get even with her. And the county gentry hated Miles Corbin like the devil, and all of 'em sympathized with his wife. The Board of
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 Magistrates rose when she entered; and when she left the court-room, and when she went down to get in my carriage, with me on one side of her and madam on the other, the magistrates had got out by a shorter way, and were bowing on each side of the carriage door. The presiding magistrate, in the name of the others, expressed their regrets that they were unable to go on her bail-piece, and when she drove out of the village, sitting up straight in my carriage, and looking like a queen, every man she met took off his hat to her, because, you see, Virginia Berkeley was a lady, and Miles Corbin was the damnedest villain—" Here the colonel went off into a roaring hurricane of profanity, which somehow didn't sound profane, but rather as a kind of cordial emphasis to what he said.
"She stayed here until the trial came off. Of course she didn't see anybody, but the whole county called on her. Dang me, but I believe they were sorry she hadn't killed Miles Corbin after all; he deserved it, the dog! The day of the trial the madam and I took her up to the cote-house—"
"An' I rid on de boot wid Unc' Torm Driver, an' Patsy she sat on de place fur de trunk behin', an' ole marse rid on horseback with Marse Jack Thornton," echoed Bob the parrot.
"When we got to the cote-house you never saw such a crowd in your life. We got Virginia in the cote-room as quietly as we could, and the madam and I sat by her. And when she was asked—'Virginia Corbin, what say you, guilty or not guilty?'
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 she stood up as brave as a lion, and says, just as cool as you please, holding up her little hand, 'Not guilty.' The people yelled for half an hour, and the Court didn't say a word, and you may be sure the sheriff didn't.
"The overseer, Higgins, had tried to get a lawyer to help the prosecuting attorney, but he couldn't do it, and the prosecuting attorney, I tell you, had to be very careful what he said. The first witness they put on the stand was Higgins. He told a mighty straight story. He told of the quarrels between Miles Corbin and his wife, and the threats he had heard her make of killing Corbin if he continued to strike her. Then he told about my Yellow Bob waking him up in the middle of the night, and of his going up to the house and seeing Miles lying on the sofa dying, and Miles saying, 'My wife did this.' At this there was such a thundering row in the court-house that the Court was obliged to demand order. But Mrs. Corbin remarked, out loud: 'That is true. He lied about me with his last breath.' Then the overseer identified the pistol as the one he had seen in Mrs. Corbin's hands, and saw on the drawing-room table on the night of Miles Corbin's death. And altogether it made a bad showing.
"Yellow Bob was the next witness called for the prosecution. It was rich testimony—ha! ha! ha!"
Yellow Bob chuckled gleefully over the recollection. "Ev'ything dat ar persecutin' retorney ask me, I say 'Naw.' 'Did you seen Mr. Miles
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 Corbin on de sofa?' 'Naw, sah.' 'You waked Higgins up at the overseer's house about midnight?' 'Naw, sir.' 'But Mr. Higgins says you did?' 'Mr. Higgins, he ain't nuttin' but po' white trash. I doan' keer what he say. I doan' know nuttin' 'tall 'bout Marse Miles Corbin dyin'. May be he had de ager, an' he nose bleed, an' he bleed hisself ter de'f.' 'No, he didn't have any ager. He was killed with the pistol.' 'Well, den,' I say, 'may be Mr. Higgins kilt him.' De jedge larf at dat. 'But,' said the persecutin' retorney, 'all the black folks seen you. They'll swear to it.' 'Well, bring 'em up heah, an' ef dey swar I d'yar dat night, I kin swar jes' as hard I warn't. Dem wuffless black niggers ain't a-gwine ter disencourage me. Dem Corbin niggers allers was mighty wuffless and lyin'. Dey done took a heap o' corn outen our corn-house.' 'Come, now,' says the persecutin' retorney, 'of course you were there the night Mr. Corbin died. You gave the alarm.' 'I didn't give 'em no sech a thing, I ain't got no 'larm ter give. I wish I hedn't tole 'em nuttin' 'tall 'bout it,' I say, an' den de persecutin' retorney he say, 'Now you admit you were there.' 'Naw, I 'ain't remit it;' I say; 'I doan know nuttin' but dat Mr. Higgins over yander is de meanest white man gwine, an' Miss Ferginny, she an' missis is mighty thick; an' ef she warn't de right kin' o' 'oman my missis wouldn't hev nuttin' 'tall fur ter do wid her; an' dem black niggers kin swar all dey wants dey seed me. I ain't cipherin' 'bout dem.' Den de persecutin' retorney he say, 'I can't
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 manage the witness,' and I jes' walk right outen de box dey put me in, an' when I pass Miss Ferginny, I say, 'Sarvint, mistis.'"
The old colonel laughed uproariously during the recital.
"And all the Corbin negroes—they had about forty of them up as witnesses—gave about the same kind of testimony that my Bob did. None of them knew anything, or had seen anything, or could be induced to tell anything but lies; and such lies! Every one of 'em, going out of the witness box, would pull his wool and duck his head to Virginia; she certainly had made those black people love her, and more than one of her fights with Corbin had been about his shameful treatment of his negroes. Severn—he's a first-class lawyer—he didn't cross-examine any of them. He said, 'May it please the Court, I have but one witness, and that is the prisoner herself. I desire to put her on the stand that she may tell her own story.' So he gave her his arm and led Mrs. Corbin to the witness box, where she sat down in a chair. You could have heard a pin drop. At first she looked around her with a sort of dazed look; it was so pitiful, I saw the foreman of the jury look away while he wiped the tears from his eyes. Everybody waited until she came to herself like. Then she began, in a low voice, to tell it all. She looked as pale as a sheet until she got to where he struck her for the first time. Then the blood poured to her face. 'I don't know how I felt,' said she; 'I wanted to kill him—that was all. I
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 rushed away from him, and then I turned on him. He began to back when he saw me advance. I told him that I would get a pistol, and if he struck me again I would shoot him. Afterward I thought I had been to blame. I determined I would try and get along better with him. I endured that man Higgins in my house—I endured, O God! what did I not endure! and it was the same. He would seize me by the throat and choke me. That was dreadful, but it wasn't a blow. At last he struck me that other time when Mr. Thornton came and beat him.' At that there was going to be the devil of a row—the people hurrahing for Thornton; but Jack checked the disturbance right away. 'Then,' she said, after everything was quiet, 'I felt that it would soon be over, one way or another; either he would kill me or I would kill him. On the night he died he said that the man Higgins should dine at Corbin Hall the next day, and I should appear at the table. I replied that I would not. He lifted his hand against me, and I asked him if he remembered what Mr. Thornton had done to him for that. Then he said—but I can't repeat what he said; it was about Mr. Thornton. I went to the bookcase and got out my pistol. "You may say what you like," I said, "but don't touch me." After more words he came toward me and struck me hard on my shoulder—here. At first the pain stunned me. I held the pistol in my hand. He got it from me; I could not resist with one arm. He said he would guarantee his life for that one night, and standing
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 by the table started to unload it. All at once I heard it go off, and he staggered to the sofa. I don't remember anything else until Colonel Randolph came.'
"When she stopped it was as still as the grave. Severn had just said something about the other side asking any questions they pleased, when the foreman of the jury talked a minute or two to the judge, and then, nodding to the jurymen, rose up and said, 'The unanimous opinion of this jury is that the prisoner is not guilty.' Such a shout! Mrs. Corbin stood up for a minute, and then, without a word, fell over in a dead faint in Jack Thornton's arms. The crowd made way for him as he carried her, as if she had been a baby, out into the court-house yard. The madam and I were there about as soon as he."
"An' me an' Patsy," added Yellow Bob.
"We put her in the carriage—"
"An' Unc' Torm Driver he lash he horses twell dey gallop ev'y foot o' de way home."
"Hold your infernal tongue! I'm telling this story. When we got her home, of course the reaction set in. She had been as brave as a lion all the time before, but now she couldn't hold up her head. She just lay on the bed up-stairs, with her great black eyes staring out of her white face, and by George, sir, I thought she was certain to kick the bucket. The only thing that roused her was when old Scaife Beverly, Jack's uncle, died without a will, and Jack got every cent the old curmudgeon left. Jack had hung around here ever
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 since Mrs. Corbin came, but she wouldn't see him, and so months and months went on. At last one evening when she was well enough to sit up—it was more than a year after the trial—she was sitting in the chamber there by the dining-room, looking devilish pretty in a white wrapper, when—"
"I seen Marse Jack comin', and I run round de house an' tole him fur Gord A'mighty's sake ter run in missis's chamber, kase I was feerd Miss Ferginny Corbin had done had a fit er sumpin. Co'se she didn't have no fit; I jes' say it ter git him in d'yar, an' he jump through de winder openin' on de po'ch, and when he see her he say, kinder solemn, 'Ferginny!' I never will forgit de way he say 'Ferginny.' 'Twas jes' same as if he'd tole her, 'I loves you better'n anything in de whole wide worl'.' An' Miss Ferginny she fall back in her cheer, an' she begin ter cry, and say, 'Don't! don't! I'm too wicked to live!' when Marse Jack he just tooken her in he arms an' kiss her. I got so intrusted wid dem conjurements I jes' stan' like I done tooken root and look in de winder twell arf' while Marse Jack seen me, an' he pick up ole marse's boot-jack layin' on de flo' an' shy it at me. I dodge, an' it broke missis's lookin'-glass an' her big red berangium in de flower-pot. He gin me a dollar naix day, an' missis she quile wid him 'bout breakin' her lookin'-glass." Then the colonel took his turn.
"They wanted to go away from the county, but I told them they'd better stay where they were
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 known. It could be lived down sooner here than anywhere else. Upon my soul they were the most devoted married couple I ever saw. But the Thorntons were short-lived people, and Jack died at forty. That killed Virginia. She never held up her head afterward. I don't think she lived six months. The madam said it was better she should die than live. They had no children. And a lot of damned, thrifty, industrious Yankees bought Northend, and they've got a confounded steam-plow that frightens all my horses, and they raise hay all over the place, and they've built an infernal ice-house on top of the ground instead of under it, and they work the whole place with twenty hands instead of sixty, as Jack Thornton did, and make more money than all the rest of the county put together, and I want a julep—d'ye hear, you yellow rascal?"