in the charge of the fiddlers. The good women laughed for joy; the men winked at each other and popped their fists; it was like the charge of the Old Guard at Waterloo, or a battle with a den of snakes. Upon the completion of the grand overture of the fiddlers the brilliant programme of the "exhibition," which usually lasted all day, opened with "Mary had a little lamb;" and it gathered fury until it reached Patrick Henry's "Give me liberty or give me death!!!" The programme was interspersed with compositions by the girls, from the simple subject of "flowers," including "blessings brighten as6
they take their flight," up to "every cloud has a silver lining;" and it was interlarded with frequent tunes by the fiddlers from early morn till close of day.
MUSIC OF THE OLD FIELD SCHOOL EXHIBITION.
Did you never hear the juvenile orator of the old field school speak? He was not dressed like a United States Senator; but he was dressed with a view to disrobing for bed, and completing his morning toilet instantly; both of which he performed during the acts of ascending and descending the stairs. His uniform was very simple. It consisted of one pair of breeches rolled up to the knees, with one patch on the "western hemisphere," one little shirt with one button at the top, one "gallus," and one invalid straw hat. His straw hat stood guard over his place on the bench, while he was delivering his great speech at the "exhibition." With great dignity and eclat, the old teacher advanced on the stage and introduced him to the expectant audience, and he came forward like a cyclone.
THE OLD FIELD SCHOOL ORATOR.
"The boy stood on the burnin' deck whence all but him had fled----The flames that lit the battle's wreck shown 'round him o'er the dead, yet beautiful and bright he stood----the boy stood on the burnin' deck----and he wuz the bravest boy that ever wuz. His fa-ther told him to keep a-stan'in' there till he told him to git off 'n there, and the boy he jist kep' a stan'in' there----and fast the flames rolled on----The old man went down stairs in the ship to see about sump'n, an' he got killed down there, an' the boy he didn't
know it, an' he jist kept a stan'in' there----an' fast the flames rolled on. He cried aloud: "say father, say, if yit my task is done," but his father wuz dead an' couldn't hear 'im, an' the boy he jist kep' a stan'in' there----an' fast the flames rolled on.----They caught like flag banners in the sky, an' at last the ol' biler busted, an' the boy he went up!!!!!!!!"
At the close of this great speech the fiddle fainted as dead as a herring.
THE QUILTING AND THE OLD VIRGINIA REEL.
The old fiddler took a fresh chew of long, green tobacco, and rosined his bow. He glided off into "Hop light ladies, your cake's all dough," and then I heard the watch dog's honest bark. I heard the guinea's merry "pot-rack." I heard a cock crow. I heard the din of happy voices in the "big house" and the sizz and songs of boiling kettles in the kitchen. It was an old time quilting--the May-day of the glorious ginger cake and cider era of the American Republic; and the needle was mightier than the sword. The pen of Jefferson announced to the world, the birth of the child of the ages; the sword of Washington defended it in its cradle, but it would have perished there had it not been for the brave women of that day who plied the needle and made the quilts that warmed it, and who nursed it and rocked it through the perils of its infancy, into the strength of a giant. The quilt was attached to a quadrangular frame suspended from the ceiling; and the good women sat around it and quilted the livelong day, and were courted by the swains between stitches. At sunset the quilt was always finished; a cat was thrown into the center of it, and the happy maiden nearest to whom the escaping "kitty-puss" passed was sure to be the first to marry.
Then followed the groaning supper table, surrounded by giggling girls, bashful young men and gossipy old matrons who monopo-lized the conversation. There was a warm and animated discussion among the old ladies as to what was the most delightful product of the garden. One old lady said, that so "fur" as she was "consarned," she preferred the "per-turnip"--another preferred the "per-
tater"--another the "cow-cumber," and still another voted "ingern" king. But suddenly a wise looking old dame raised her spectacles and settled the whole question by observing: "Ah, ladies, you may talk about yer per-turnips, and your pertaters, and your passnips and other gyardin sass, but the sweetest wedgetable that ever melted on these ol' gums o' mine is the 'possum."
At length the feast was ended, the old folks departed and the fun and frolic began in earnest at the quilting. Old uncle "Ephraham"
was an old darkey in the neighborhood, distinguished for calling the figures for all the dances, for miles and miles around. He was
a tall, raw-boned, angular old darkey with a very bald head, and a great deal of white in his eyes. He had thick, heavy lips and a very flat nose. I will tell you a little story of uncle "Ephraham." He lived alone in his cabin, as many of the old time darkeys lived, and his 'possum dog lived with him. One evening old uncle "Ephraham" came home from his labors and took his 'possum dog into
the woods and soon caught a fine, large, fat 'possum. He brought him home and dressed him; and then he slipped into his master's garden and stole some fine, large, fat sweet potatoes--("Master's nigger, Master's taters,") and he washed the potatoes and split them and piled them in the oven around the 'possum. He set the oven on the red hot coals and put the lid on, and covered it with red hot coals, and then sat down in the corner and nodded and breathed the sweet aroma of the baking 'possum, till it was done. Then he
set it out into the middle of the floor, and took the lid off, and sat down by the smoking 'possum and soliloquized: "Dat's de fines'
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job ob bakin' 'possum I evah has done in my life, but dat 'possum's too hot to eat yit. I believes I'll jis lay down heah by 'im an' take a nap while he's coolin', an' maybe I'll dream about eat'n 'im, an' den I'll git up an' eat 'im, an' I'll git de good uv dat 'possum boaf times dat-a-way." So he lay down on the floor, and in a moment he was sleeping as none but the old time darkey could sleep, as sweetly as a babe in its mother's arms. Old Cye was another old darkey in the neighborhood, prowling around. He poked his head
in at "Ephraham's" door ajar, and took in the whole situation at a glance. Cye merely remarked to himself: "I loves 'possum myself." And he slipped in on his tip-toes and picked up the 'possum and ate him from tip to tail, and piled the bones down by sleeping "Ephraham;" he ate the sweet potatoes and piled the hulls down by the bones; then he reached into the oven and got his hand full
of 'possum grease and rubbed it on "Ephraham's" lips and cheeks and chin, and then folded his tent and silently stole away. At length "Ephraham" awoke--"Sho' nuf, sho' nuf--jist as I expected; I dreampt about eat'n dat 'possum an' it wuz de sweetest dream I evah has had yit." He looked around, but empty was the oven--"'possum gone." "Sho'ly to de Lo'd," said "Ephraham," "I nuvvah eat dat 'possum while I wuz a dreamin' about eat'n 'im." He poked his tongue out--"Yes, dat's 'possum grease sho,--I s'pose I eat dat 'possum while I wuz a dreamin' about eat'n 'im, but ef I did eat 'im, he sets lighter on my constitution an' has less influence wid me dan any 'possum I evah has eat in my bo'n days."
Old uncle "Ephraham" was present at the country dance in all his glory. He was attired in his master's old claw-hammer coat, a very buff vest, a high standing collar the corners of which stood out six inches from his face, striped pantaloons that fitted as tightly as a kid glove, and he wore number fourteen shoes. He looked as though he were born to call the figures of the dance. The fiddler was a young man with long legs, a curving back, and a neck of the crane fashion, embellished with an Adam's apple which made him look as though he had made an unsuccessful effort to swallow his own head. But he was a very important personage at the dance. With great dignity he unwound his bandana handkerchief from his old fiddle and proceeded to tune for the fray.
Did you never hear a country fiddler tune his fiddle? He tuned, and he tuned, and he tuned. He tuned for fifteen minutes,
