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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/23514-h.zip b/23514-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..fd1ca12 --- /dev/null +++ b/23514-h.zip diff --git a/23514-h/23514-h.htm b/23514-h/23514-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..070f91a --- /dev/null +++ b/23514-h/23514-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1038 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="us-ascii"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + The Long Hillside, by Thomas Nelson Page + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Long Hillside, by Thomas Nelson Page + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Long Hillside + A Christmas Hare-Hunt In Old Virginia + 1908 + +Author: Thomas Nelson Page + +Release Date: November 16, 2007 [EBook #23514] +Last Updated: January 9, 2013 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LONG HILLSIDE *** + + + + +Produced by David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <div style="height: 8em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + THE LONG HILLSIDE + </h1> + <h2> + A CHRISTMAS HARE-HUNT IN OLD VIRGINIA + </h2> + <h3> + By Thomas Nelson Page <br /> <br /> Charles Scribner's Sons New York, 1908 + <br /><br /> Copyright, 1891, 1904, 1906 + </h3> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + Contents + </h2> + <table summary="" style="margin-right: auto; margin-left: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> III </a> + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + I + </h2> + <p> + There do not seem to be as many hares now as there used to be when I was a + boy. Then the "old fields" and branch-bottoms used to be full of them. + They were peculiarly our game; I mean we used to consider that they + belonged to us boys. They were rather scorned by the "gentlemen," by which + was meant the grown-up gentlemen, who shot partridges over the pointers, + and only picked up a hare when she got in their way. And the negroes used + to catch them in traps or "gums," which were traps made of hollow gum-tree + logs. But we boys were the hare-hunters. They were our property from our + childhood; just as much, we considered, as "Bruno" and "Don," the + beautiful "crack" pointers, with their brown eyes and satiny ears and + coats, were "the gentlemen's." + </p> + <p> + The negroes used to set traps all the Fall and Winter, and we, with the + natural tendency of boys to imitate whatever is wild and primitive, used + to set traps also. To tell the truth, however, the hares appeared to have + a way of going into the negroes' traps, rather than into ours, and the + former caught many to our one. + </p> + <p> + Even now, after many years, I can remember the delight of the frosty + mornings; the joy with which we used to peep through the little panes of + the dormer-windows at the white frost over the fields, which promised + stronger chances of game being caught; the eagerness with which, oblivious + of the cold, we sped through the garden, across the field, along the ditch + banks, and up by the woods, making the round of our traps; the expectancy + with which we peeped over the whitened weeds and through the bushes, to + catch a glimpse of the gums in some "parf" or at some clearly marked + "gap"; our disappointment when we found the door standing open and the + trigger set just as we had left it the mormng before; our keen delight + when the door was down; the dash for the trap; the scuffle to decide which + should look in first; the peep at the brown ball screwed up back at the + far end; the delicate operation, of getting the hare out of the trap; and + the triumphant return home, holding up our spoil to be seen from afar. We + were happier than we knew. + </p> + <p> + So far to show how we came to regard hares as our natural game, and how, + though to be bird-hunters we had to grow up, we were hare-hunters as boys. + The rush, the cheers, the yells, the excitement were a part of the sport, + to us boys the best part. + </p> + <p> + Of course, to hunt hares we had to have dogs—at least boys must have—the + noise, the dash, the chase are half the battle. + </p> + <p> + And such dogs as ours were! + </p> + <p> + It was not allowable to take bird-dogs after hares. I say it was not + allowable; I do not say it was not done, for sometimes, of course, the + pointers <i>would</i> come, and we could not make them go back. But the + hare-dogs were the puppies and curs, terriers, watch-dogs, and the + nondescript crew which belonged to the negroes, and to the plantation + generally. + </p> + <p> + What a pack they were! Thin, undersized black-and-tans, or spotted beasts + of doubtful breed, called "houn's" by courtesy; long legged, sleepy + watch-dogs from the "quarters," brindled or "yaller" mongrels, which even + courtesy could not term other than "kyur dogs"; sharp-voiced "fises," + busier than bees, hunting like fury, as if they expected to find rats in + every tuft of grass; and, when the hares got up, bouncing and bobbing + along, not much bigger than the "molly cottontails" they were after, + getting in everyone's way and receiving sticks and stones in profusion, + but with their spirits unbroken. And all these were in one incongruous + pack, growling, running, barking, ready to steal, fight, or hunt, + whichever it happened to be. + </p> + <p> + We used to have hunts on Saturdays, just we boys, with perhaps a black boy + or two of our particular cronies; but the great hunt was "in the holidays"—that + is, about Christmas. Then all the young darkies about the place were free + and ready for sport. + </p> + <p> + This Christmas hunt was an event. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + II + </h2> + <p> + It was the year 186—, and, Christmas-day falling on a Sunday, + Saturday was given as the first day of the holidays. It had been a fine + Fall; the cover was good, and old hares were plentiful. It had been + determined some time before Christmas that we would have a big hare-hunt + on that day, and the "boys"—that is, the young darkies—came to + the house from the quarters, prepared for the sport, and by the time + breakfast was over they were waiting for us around the kitchen door. + </p> + <p> + Breakfast was always late about Christmas time; perhaps, the spareribs and + sausages and the jelly dripping through a blanket hung over the legs of an + upturned table accounted for it; and on, this Christmas eve it was ten by + the tall clock in the corner of the dining-room before we were through. + </p> + <p> + When we came out, the merry darkies were waiting for us, grinning and + showing their shining teeth, laughing and shouting and calling the dogs. + They were not allowed to have guns; but our guns, long old single-barrels + handed down for at least two generations, had been carried out and + cleaned, and they were handing them around, inspecting and aiming them + with as much pride as if they had been brand-new. There was only one + exception to this rule: Uncle "Limpy-Jack," so called because he had one + leg shorter than the other, was allowed to have a gun. He was a sort of + professional hunter about the place. No lord was ever prouder of a special + privilege handed down in his family for generations. + </p> + <p> + The other boys were armed with stout sticks and made much noise. Uncle + Limpy-Jack was in this respect also the only exception; he was grave as + became a "man" who was a hunter by business, and "warn't arter no + foolishness." He allowed no one to touch his gun, which thus possessed a + special value. He carried his powder in a gourd and his shot in an old + rag. + </p> + <p> + The pack of dogs I have described, fully recruited, were hanging around, + growling and snarling, sneaking into the kitchen and being kicked out by + Aunt Betty and her corps of varicolored assistants, largely augmented at + the approach of Christmas with its cheer. The yelping of the mongrel pack, + the shouts and whoops of the boys, and the laughter of the maids or men + about the kitchen and back-yard, all in their best clothes and in high + spirits, were exhilarating, and with many whoops and much "hollering," we + climbed the yard fence, and, disdaining a road, of course, set out down + the hill across the field, taking long strides, each one bragging loudly + of what he would do. + </p> + <p> + Let me see: there were John and Andrew and Black Peter, and Bow-legged + Saul, and Milker-Tim, and Billy, and Uncle Limpy-Jack, and others now + forgotten, and the three white boys. And the dogs, "Ole Rattler," and "Ole + Nim-rod," who had always been old by their names, and were regarded with + reverence akin to fetich-worship because they were popularly supposed to + be able to trail a hare. It was a de-lusion, I am now satisfied; for I + cannot recall that they ever trailed one certainly three feet. Then there + were the "guard dawgs": "Hector," brindled, bob-tailed, and ugly, and + "Jerry," yellow, long-tailed, and mean; then there was "Jack," fat, + stumpy, and ill-natured; there were the two pointers, Bruno and Don, the + beauties and pride of the family, with a pedigree like a prince's, who, + like us, were taking a holiday hunt, but, unlike us, without permission; + "Rock," Uncle Limpy-Jack's "hyah dawg," and then the two terriers "Snip" + and "Snap." We beat the banks of the spring ditch for form's sake, though + there was small chance of a hare there, because it was pasture and the + banks were kept clean. Then we made for the old field beyond, the dogs + spreading out and nosing around lazily, each on his own hook. Whether + because of the noise we made and their seeking safety in flight, or + because they were off "taking holiday"{1} as the negroes claimed, no hares + were found, and after a half-hour our ardor was a little dampened. But we + soon set to work in earnest and began to beat a little bottom lying + between two hills, through which ran a ditch, thickly grown up with bushes + and briers. The dead swamp-grass was very heavy in the narrow little + bottom along the sides, and was matted in tufts. The dogs were scattered, + and prowling around singly or in couples; and only one of the pointers and + Snip were really on the ditch. Snip showed signs of great industry, and + went bobbing backward and forward through a patch of heavy matted grass. + In any other dog this might have excited suspicion, even hope. There are, + however, some dogs that are natural liars. Snip was one of them. Snip's + failing was so well known that no attention was paid to him. He gave, + indeed, a short bark, and bounced up two or three times like a trap-ball, + looking both ways at once; but this action only called down upon him + universal derision. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 1 The hares, according to the negroes, used to take holidays + and would not go into traps in this season; so the only way + to get them was by hunting them. +</pre> + <p> + Just then, however, a small boy pointed over to the top of the hill + calling, "Look-a yander," and shouts arose, "Dyah she go!" "Dyah she go!" + "Dyah she go!" + </p> + <p> + Sure enough, there, just turning the hill, went a "molly cotton," + bouncing. In a second we were all in full chase and cry, shouting to each + other, "whooping" on the dogs, and running with all our might. We were so + carried away by the excitement that not one of us even thought of the fact + that she would come stealing back. + </p> + <p> + No negro can resist the inclination to shout "Dyah she go!" and to run + after a hare when one gets up; it is involuntary and irresistible. Even + Uncle Limpy-Jack came bobbing along for a while, shouting, "Dyah she go!" + at the top of his voice; but being soon distanced he called his dog, Rock, + and went back to beat the ditch bank again. + </p> + <p> + The enthusiasm of the chase carried us all into the piece of pine beyond + the fence, where the pines were much too thick to see anything and where + only an occasional glimpse of a dog running backward and forward, or an + instinctive "oun-oun!" from the hounds, rewarded us. But "molly is berry + sly," and while the dogs were chasing each other around the pines, she was + tripping back down through the field to the place where we had started + her. + </p> + <p> + We were recalled by hearing an unexpected "bang" from the field behind us, + and dashing out of the woods we found Uncle Limpy-Jack holding up a hare, + and with a face whose gravity might have done for that of Fate. He was + instantly surrounded by the entire throng, whom he regarded with superb + disdain and spoke of as "you chillern." + </p> + <p> + "G' on, you chillern, whar you is gwine, and meek you' noise somewhar + else, an' keep out o' my way. I want to git some hyahs!" + </p> + <p> + He betrayed his pleasure only once, when, as he measured out the shot from + an old rag into his seamed palm, he said with a nod of his head: "Y' all + kin <i>run</i> ole hyahs; de ole man' <i>shoots</i> 'em." And as we + started off we heard him muttering: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "Ole Molly Hyah, + What yo' doin' dyah? + Settin' in de cornder + Smokin' a cigah." +</pre> + <p> + We went back to the branch and began again to beat the bushes, Uncle + Limpy-Jack taking unquestioned the foremost place, which had heretofore + been held by us. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly there was a movement, a sort of scamper, a rash, as something + slipped out of the heavy grass at our feet and vanished in the thick + briers of the ditch bank. "Dy ah she go!" arose from a dozen throats, and + gone she was, in fact, safe in a thicket of briers which no dog nor negro + could penetrate. + </p> + <p> + The bushes were vigorously beaten, however, and all of us, except Uncle + Limpy-Jack and Milker-Tim, crossed over to the far side of the ditch where + the bottom widened, when suddenly she was discovered over on the same + side, on the edge of the little valley. She had stolen out, the negroes + declared, licking her paws to prevent leaving a scent, and finding the + stretch of hillside too bare to get across, was stealing back to her + covert again, going a little way and then squatting, then going a few + steps and squatting again. "Dyah she go!" "Dyah she go!" resounded as + usual. + </p> + <p> + Bang!—bang!—snap!—bang! went the four guns in quick + succession, tearing up the grass anywhere from one to ten yards away from + her. As if she had drawn their fire and was satisfied that she was safe, + she turned and sped up the hill, the white tail bobbing derisively, + followed by the dogs strung out in line. + </p> + <p> + Of course, all of us had some good excuse for missing, Uncle Limpy-Jack's + being the only valid one—that his cap had snapped. He made much of + this, complaining violently of "dese yere wuthless caps!" With a pin he + set to work, and he had just picked the tube, rammed painfully some grains + of powder down in it, and put on another cap which he had first examined + with great care to impress us. "Now, let a ole hyah git up," he said, with + a shake of his head. "She got <i>man</i> ready for her, she ain't got you + chil-lern." The words were scarcely spoken when a little darkey called + out, "Dyah she come!" and sure enough she came, "lipping" down a furrow + straight toward us. Uncle Limpy-Jack was on that side of the ditch and + Milker-Tim was near him armed only with a stout well-balanced stick about + two feet long. As the hare came down the hill, Uncle Jack brought up his + gun, took a long aim and fired. The weeds and dust flew up off to one side + of her, and she turned at right angles out of the furrow; but as she got + to the top of the bed, Milker-Tim, flinging back his arm, with the + precision of a bushman, sent his stick whirling like a boomerang skimming + along the ground after her. + </p> + <p> + Tim with a yell rushed at her and picked her up, shouting, "I got her! I + got her!" + </p> + <p> + Then Uncle Limpy-Jack pitched into him: "What you doin' gittin' in my + way!" he complained angrily. "Ain' you got no better sense 'n to git in my + way like dat! Did n' you see how nigh I come to blowin' yo' brains out! + Did n' you see I had de hyah when you come pokin' yer wooly black head in + my way! Ef I had n' flung my gun off, whar 'd you 'a' been now! Don' you + come pokin' in my way ag'in!" + </p> + <p> + Tim was too much elated to be long affected by even this severity, and + when he had got out of Uncle Jack's way he sang out: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "Ole Molly Hyah, + You' ears mighty thin. + Yes, yes, yes, + I come a-t'ippin' thoo de win'!" +</pre> + <p> + So far the honors were all Uncle Jack's and Milker-Tim's, and it was + necessary for the rest of us to do something. Accordingly, the bottom + having been well hunted, the crowd struck out for an old field over the + hill, known as "the long hillside." It was thick in hen-grass and + broom-straw, and sloped down from a piece of pine with a southern exposure + on which the sun shone warm. We had not reached it before a hare jumped + out of a bush near Charlie. In a few moments, another bounced out before + one of the dogs and went dashing across the field. Two shots followed her; + but she kept on till at last one of the boys secured her. + </p> + <p> + We were going down the slope when Peter called in great excitement, + </p> + <p> + "Heah a ole hyah settin' in her haid. Come heah, Dan, quick! Gi' me your + gun; le' me git him!" + </p> + <p> + This was more than Dan bargained for, as he had not got one himself yet. + He ran up quickly enough, but held on tightly to his gun. + </p> + <p> + "Where is he? Show him to me: I 'll knock him over." + </p> + <p> + As he would not give up the gun, Peter pointed out the game. + </p> + <p> + "See him?" + </p> + <p> + "No." + </p> + <p> + "Right under dat bush—right dyah" (pointing). "See him? Teck keer + dyah, Don, teck keer," he called, as Don came to a point just beyond. "See + him?" He pointed a black finger with tremulous eagerness. + </p> + <p> + No, Dan did not see, so he reluctantly yielded up the gun. + </p> + <p> + Peter took aim long and laboriously, shut both eyes, pulled the trigger, + and blazed away. + </p> + <p> + There was a dash of white and brown, a yell, and Don wheeled around with + his head between his forepaws stung by the shot as "molly" fled streaking + it over the hill followed only by the dogs. + </p> + <p> + Peter's face was a study. If he had killed one of us he could not have + looked more like a criminal, nor have heard more abuse. + </p> + <p> + Uncle Limpy-Jack poured out on him such a volume of vituperation and + contempt that he was almost white, he was so ashy. + </p> + <p> + Don was not permanently hurt; but one ear was pierced by several shot, + which was a serious affair, as his beauty was one of his good points, and + his presence on a hare-hunt was wholly against the rules. Uncle Limpy-Jack + painted the terrors of the return home for Peter with a vividness so + realistic that its painfulness pierced more breasts than Peter's. + </p> + <p> + Don was carried to the nearest ditch, and the entire crowd devoted itself + to doctoring his ear. It was decided that he should be taken to the + quarters and kept out of sight during the Christmas, in the hope that his + ear would heal. We all agreed not to say anything about it if not + questioned. Uncle Limpy-Jack had to be bribed into silence by a liberal + present of shot and powder from us. But he finally consented. However, + when Met, in a wild endeavor to get a shot at a stray partridge which got + up before us, missed the bird and let Uncle Limpy-Jack, at fifty yards, + have number-six pellets in the neck and shoulder, Peter's delinquency was + forgotten. The old man dropped his gun and yelled, "Oh! Oh!" at the top of + his voice. "Oh! I 'm dead, I 'm dead, I 'm dead." He lay down on the + ground and rolled. + </p> + <p> + Met was scared to death and we were all seriously frightened. Limpy-Jack + himself may have thought he was really killed. He certainly made us think + so. He would not let anyone look at the wound. + </p> + <p> + Only a few of the shot had gone in, and he was not seriously injured, but + he vowed that it was all done on purpose, and that he was "going straight + home and tell Marster," a threat he was only prevented from executing by + us all promising him the gold dollars which we should find in the toes of + our stockings next morning. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + III + </h2> + <p> + So far the day had been rather a failure; the misfortunes had exceeded the + sport; but as we reached the long hillside I have spoken of, the fun + began. The hares were sunning themselves comfortably in their beds, and we + had not gone more than two hundred yards before we had three up, and + cutting straight down the hill before us. + </p> + <p> + Bang!—bang!—bang!—bang! went the guns. One hare was + knocked over, and one boy also by the kick of his gun; the others were a + sight chase, and every boy, man, and dog joined in it for dear life. + </p> + <p> + "Whoop!—whoop! Dyah she go! Dyah she go! Heah, heah! Heah, heah! + Heah, heah, heah! Whoop, Rattler! Whoop, Nimrod! Heah, Snip! heah, heah, + Bruno! Heah, heah!" Everyone was striving to get ahead. + </p> + <p> + Both hares were picked up before reaching cover, one being caught by + Bruno, who was magnificent in a chase. After many falls and failures by + all of us, Saul flung himself on the other, and gave a wild yell of + triumph. + </p> + <p> + The "long hillside" was full of hares; they bounced out of the hen-grass; + slipped from brush-heaps and were run down, or by their speed and agility + escaped us all. The dogs got the frenzy and chased wildly, sometimes + running over them and losing them through a clever double and dash. The + old field rang with the chase until we turned our steps toward home to get + ready for the fun after dark. + </p> + <p> + We were crossing the pasture on our way home. The winter sunset sky was + glowing like burnished steel; the tops of the great clump of oaks and + hickories in which the house stood were all that we could see over the far + hill; a thin line of bluish smoke went straight up in the quiet air. The + dogs had gone on ahead, even the two or three old watch-dogs ran after the + others, with their noses in air. + </p> + <p> + The question of concealing Don and his ragged ears came up. It was + necessary to catch him and keep him from the house. We started up the + slope after him. As we climbed the hill we heard them. + </p> + <p> + "Dee got a ole hyah now; come on," exclaimed one or two of the younger + negroes; but old Limpy-Jack came to a halt, and turning his head to one + side listened. + </p> + <p> + "Heish! Dat ain' no ole hyah dey 're arter; dey 're arter Marster's sheep—dat + 's what 'tis!" + </p> + <p> + He started off at a rapid gait. We did the same. + </p> + <p> + "Yep, yep! Oun, oun, oun! Err, err, err!" came their voices in full cry. + </p> + <p> + We reached the top of the hill. Sure enough, there they were, the fat + Southdowns, tearing like mad across the field, the sound of their + trampling reaching us, with the entire pack at their heels, the pointers + well in the lead. Such a chase as we had trying to catch that pack of + mischievous dogs! Finally we got them in; but not before the whole + occurrence had been seen at the house. + </p> + <p> + The shouts that were borne to us, as rescuers began to troop across the + fields, drove our hearts down into our boots. + </p> + <p> + The return to the house was widely different from the triumph of the + out-going in the morning. It was a dejected cortege that wended its + toilsome way up the hill. Uncle Limpy-Jack basely deserted us after + getting the promise of our gold dollars, declaring that he "told dem boys + dat huntin' ole hyahs warn' no business for chillern!" + </p> + <p> + We knew that we had to "face the condign." There was no maudlin sentiment + in that region. Solomon was truly believed to have been the wisest of men, + and at least one of his decrees was still acted on in that pious + community. + </p> + <p> + The black boys were shipped off to their mammies and I fear received their + full share of "the condign." + </p> + <p> + We were ushered solemnly into the house and were marched upstairs to + meditate on our enormities. + </p> + <p> + We could hear the debate going on below, and now and then a gentle voice + took up the cause. Presently a slow step mounted the stair and the door + opened. It was a grave senior—owner of Don. We knew that we were + gone. + </p> + <p> + "Boys, did n't you know better than that?" + </p> + <p> + Three culprits looked at each other sideways and remained speechless. We + were trying to figure out which was the more politic answer. + </p> + <p> + "Now, this is Christmas——" + </p> + <p> + "A time of peace and good-will," said Met under his breath, but loud + enough to be heard. + </p> + <p> + "Yes—and that 's the reason I am going to appeal to you as to what + should be done to you. Suppose you were in my place and I in yours, and + you had told me never—<i>never</i> to take the pointers out to run + hares, and I knew I was disobeying you, and yet I had done it deliberately—<i>deliberately</i> + disobeyed you—what would you do?" + </p> + <p> + I confess that the case seemed hopeless. But Met saved the day. + </p> + <p> + "I 'll tell you what I 'd do, sir." + </p> + <p> + "What?" + </p> + <p> + "I 'd give you another chance." + </p> + <p> + "Hm—-ah—ur——" + </p> + <p> + It was, however, too much for him, and he first began to smile and then to + laugh. Met also broke out into a laugh, knowing that he had caught him. + </p> + <p> + So peace and good-will were restored and Christmas really began. + </p> + <div style="height: 6em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Long Hillside, by Thomas Nelson Page + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LONG HILLSIDE *** + +***** This file should be named 23514-h.htm or 23514-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/3/5/1/23514/ + +Produced by David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Long Hillside + A Christmas Hare-Hunt In Old Virginia + 1908 + +Author: Thomas Nelson Page + +Release Date: November 16, 2007 [EBook #23514] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LONG HILLSIDE *** + + + + +Produced by David Widger + + + + + + +THE LONG HILLSIDE + +A CHRISTMAS HARE-HUNT IN OLD VIRGINIA + +By Thomas Nelson Page + +Charles Scribner's Sons New York, 1908 + +Copyright, 1891, 1904, 1906 + + + + +I + +There do not seem to be as many hares now as there used to be when I was +a boy. Then the "old fields" and branch-bottoms used to be full of them. +They were peculiarly our game; I mean we used to consider that they +belonged to us boys. They were rather scorned by the "gentlemen," by +which was meant the grown-up gentlemen, who shot partridges over the +pointers, and only picked up a hare when she got in their way. And the +negroes used to catch them in traps or "gums," which were traps made of +hollow gum-tree logs. But we boys were the hare-hunters. They were our +property from our childhood; just as much, we considered, as "Bruno" and +"Don," the beautiful "crack" pointers, with their brown eyes and satiny +ears and coats, were "the gentlemen's." + +The negroes used to set traps all the Fall and Winter, and we, with the +natural tendency of boys to imitate whatever is wild and primitive, used +to set traps also. To tell the truth, however, the hares appeared to +have a way of going into the negroes' traps, rather than into ours, and +the former caught many to our one. + +Even now, after many years, I can remember the delight of the frosty +mornings; the joy with which we used to peep through the little panes +of the dormer-windows at the white frost over the fields, which promised +stronger chances of game being caught; the eagerness with which, +oblivious of the cold, we sped through the garden, across the field, +along the ditch banks, and up by the woods, making the round of our +traps; the expectancy with which we peeped over the whitened weeds and +through the bushes, to catch a glimpse of the gums in some "parf" or +at some clearly marked "gap"; our disappointment when we found the door +standing open and the trigger set just as we had left it the mormng +before; our keen delight when the door was down; the dash for the trap; +the scuffle to decide which should look in first; the peep at the brown +ball screwed up back at the far end; the delicate operation, of getting +the hare out of the trap; and the triumphant return home, holding up our +spoil to be seen from afar. We were happier than we knew. + +So far to show how we came to regard hares as our natural game, and how, +though to be bird-hunters we had to grow up, we were hare-hunters as +boys. The rush, the cheers, the yells, the excitement were a part of the +sport, to us boys the best part. + +Of course, to hunt hares we had to have dogs--at least boys must +have--the noise, the dash, the chase are half the battle. + +And such dogs as ours were! + +It was not allowable to take bird-dogs after hares. I say it was not +allowable; I do not say it was not done, for sometimes, of course, +the pointers _would_ come, and we could not make them go back. But +the hare-dogs were the puppies and curs, terriers, watch-dogs, and the +nondescript crew which belonged to the negroes, and to the plantation +generally. + +What a pack they were! Thin, undersized black-and-tans, or spotted +beasts of doubtful breed, called "houn's" by courtesy; long legged, +sleepy watch-dogs from the "quarters," brindled or "yaller" mongrels, +which even courtesy could not term other than "kyur dogs"; sharp-voiced +"fises," busier than bees, hunting like fury, as if they expected to +find rats in every tuft of grass; and, when the hares got up, bouncing +and bobbing along, not much bigger than the "molly cottontails" they +were after, getting in everyone's way and receiving sticks and stones +in profusion, but with their spirits unbroken. And all these were in one +incongruous pack, growling, running, barking, ready to steal, fight, or +hunt, whichever it happened to be. + +We used to have hunts on Saturdays, just we boys, with perhaps a black +boy or two of our particular cronies; but the great hunt was "in the +holidays"--that is, about Christmas. Then all the young darkies about +the place were free and ready for sport. + +This Christmas hunt was an event. + + + + +II + +It was the year 186--, and, Christmas-day falling on a Sunday, Saturday +was given as the first day of the holidays. It had been a fine Fall; +the cover was good, and old hares were plentiful. It had been determined +some time before Christmas that we would have a big hare-hunt on that +day, and the "boys"--that is, the young darkies--came to the house from +the quarters, prepared for the sport, and by the time breakfast was over +they were waiting for us around the kitchen door. + +Breakfast was always late about Christmas time; perhaps, the spareribs +and sausages and the jelly dripping through a blanket hung over the legs +of an upturned table accounted for it; and on, this Christmas eve it was +ten by the tall clock in the corner of the dining-room before we were +through. + +When we came out, the merry darkies were waiting for us, grinning and +showing their shining teeth, laughing and shouting and calling the +dogs. They were not allowed to have guns; but our guns, long old +single-barrels handed down for at least two generations, had been +carried out and cleaned, and they were handing them around, inspecting +and aiming them with as much pride as if they had been brand-new. There +was only one exception to this rule: Uncle "Limpy-Jack," so called +because he had one leg shorter than the other, was allowed to have a +gun. He was a sort of professional hunter about the place. No lord +was ever prouder of a special privilege handed down in his family for +generations. + +The other boys were armed with stout sticks and made much noise. Uncle +Limpy-Jack was in this respect also the only exception; he was grave +as became a "man" who was a hunter by business, and "warn't arter no +foolishness." He allowed no one to touch his gun, which thus possessed +a special value. He carried his powder in a gourd and his shot in an old +rag. + +The pack of dogs I have described, fully recruited, were hanging around, +growling and snarling, sneaking into the kitchen and being kicked out by +Aunt Betty and her corps of varicolored assistants, largely augmented +at the approach of Christmas with its cheer. The yelping of the mongrel +pack, the shouts and whoops of the boys, and the laughter of the maids +or men about the kitchen and back-yard, all in their best clothes and +in high spirits, were exhilarating, and with many whoops and much +"hollering," we climbed the yard fence, and, disdaining a road, of +course, set out down the hill across the field, taking long strides, +each one bragging loudly of what he would do. + +Let me see: there were John and Andrew and Black Peter, and Bow-legged +Saul, and Milker-Tim, and Billy, and Uncle Limpy-Jack, and others now +forgotten, and the three white boys. And the dogs, "Ole Rattler," and +"Ole Nim-rod," who had always been old by their names, and were regarded +with reverence akin to fetich-worship because they were popularly +supposed to be able to trail a hare. It was a de-lusion, I am now +satisfied; for I cannot recall that they ever trailed one certainly +three feet. Then there were the "guard dawgs": "Hector," brindled, +bob-tailed, and ugly, and "Jerry," yellow, long-tailed, and mean; then +there was "Jack," fat, stumpy, and ill-natured; there were the two +pointers, Bruno and Don, the beauties and pride of the family, with a +pedigree like a prince's, who, like us, were taking a holiday hunt, but, +unlike us, without permission; "Rock," Uncle Limpy-Jack's "hyah dawg," +and then the two terriers "Snip" and "Snap." We beat the banks of the +spring ditch for form's sake, though there was small chance of a hare +there, because it was pasture and the banks were kept clean. Then we +made for the old field beyond, the dogs spreading out and nosing around +lazily, each on his own hook. Whether because of the noise we made +and their seeking safety in flight, or because they were off "taking +holiday"{1} as the negroes claimed, no hares were found, and after a +half-hour our ardor was a little dampened. But we soon set to work +in earnest and began to beat a little bottom lying between two hills, +through which ran a ditch, thickly grown up with bushes and briers. The +dead swamp-grass was very heavy in the narrow little bottom along the +sides, and was matted in tufts. The dogs were scattered, and prowling +around singly or in couples; and only one of the pointers and Snip +were really on the ditch. Snip showed signs of great industry, and went +bobbing backward and forward through a patch of heavy matted grass. In +any other dog this might have excited suspicion, even hope. There are, +however, some dogs that are natural liars. Snip was one of them. Snip's +failing was so well known that no attention was paid to him. He +gave, indeed, a short bark, and bounced up two or three times like a +trap-ball, looking both ways at once; but this action only called down +upon him universal derision. + + 1 The hares, according to the negroes, used to take holidays + and would not go into traps in this season; so the only way + to get them was by hunting them. + +Just then, however, a small boy pointed over to the top of the hill +calling, "Look-a yander," and shouts arose, "Dyah she go!" "Dyah she +go!" "Dyah she go!" + +Sure enough, there, just turning the hill, went a "molly cotton," +bouncing. In a second we were all in full chase and cry, shouting to +each other, "whooping" on the dogs, and running with all our might. We +were so carried away by the excitement that not one of us even thought +of the fact that she would come stealing back. + +No negro can resist the inclination to shout "Dyah she go!" and to run +after a hare when one gets up; it is involuntary and irresistible. Even +Uncle Limpy-Jack came bobbing along for a while, shouting, "Dyah she +go!" at the top of his voice; but being soon distanced he called his +dog, Rock, and went back to beat the ditch bank again. + +The enthusiasm of the chase carried us all into the piece of pine beyond +the fence, where the pines were much too thick to see anything and where +only an occasional glimpse of a dog running backward and forward, or an +instinctive "oun-oun!" from the hounds, rewarded us. But "molly is berry +sly," and while the dogs were chasing each other around the pines, +she was tripping back down through the field to the place where we had +started her. + +We were recalled by hearing an unexpected "bang" from the field behind +us, and dashing out of the woods we found Uncle Limpy-Jack holding up a +hare, and with a face whose gravity might have done for that of Fate. +He was instantly surrounded by the entire throng, whom he regarded with +superb disdain and spoke of as "you chillern." + +"G' on, you chillern, whar you is gwine, and meek you' noise somewhar +else, an' keep out o' my way. I want to git some hyahs!" + +He betrayed his pleasure only once, when, as he measured out the shot +from an old rag into his seamed palm, he said with a nod of his head: +"Y' all kin _run_ ole hyahs; de ole man' _shoots_ 'em." And as we +started off we heard him muttering: + + "Ole Molly Hyah, + What yo' doin' dyah? + Settin' in de cornder + Smokin' a cigah." + +We went back to the branch and began again to beat the bushes, Uncle +Limpy-Jack taking unquestioned the foremost place, which had heretofore +been held by us. + +Suddenly there was a movement, a sort of scamper, a rash, as something +slipped out of the heavy grass at our feet and vanished in the thick +briers of the ditch bank. "Dy ah she go!" arose from a dozen throats, +and gone she was, in fact, safe in a thicket of briers which no dog nor +negro could penetrate. + +The bushes were vigorously beaten, however, and all of us, except Uncle +Limpy-Jack and Milker-Tim, crossed over to the far side of the ditch +where the bottom widened, when suddenly she was discovered over on the +same side, on the edge of the little valley. She had stolen out, the +negroes declared, licking her paws to prevent leaving a scent, and +finding the stretch of hillside too bare to get across, was stealing +back to her covert again, going a little way and then squatting, then +going a few steps and squatting again. "Dyah she go!" "Dyah she go!" +resounded as usual. + +Bang!--bang!--snap!--bang! went the four guns in quick succession, +tearing up the grass anywhere from one to ten yards away from her. As if +she had drawn their fire and was satisfied that she was safe, she turned +and sped up the hill, the white tail bobbing derisively, followed by the +dogs strung out in line. + +Of course, all of us had some good excuse for missing, Uncle +Limpy-Jack's being the only valid one--that his cap had snapped. He made +much of this, complaining violently of "dese yere wuthless caps!" With +a pin he set to work, and he had just picked the tube, rammed painfully +some grains of powder down in it, and put on another cap which he had +first examined with great care to impress us. "Now, let a ole hyah git +up," he said, with a shake of his head. "She got _man_ ready for her, +she ain't got you chil-lern." The words were scarcely spoken when a +little darkey called out, "Dyah she come!" and sure enough she came, +"lipping" down a furrow straight toward us. Uncle Limpy-Jack was on that +side of the ditch and Milker-Tim was near him armed only with a stout +well-balanced stick about two feet long. As the hare came down the hill, +Uncle Jack brought up his gun, took a long aim and fired. The weeds and +dust flew up off to one side of her, and she turned at right angles +out of the furrow; but as she got to the top of the bed, Milker-Tim, +flinging back his arm, with the precision of a bushman, sent his stick +whirling like a boomerang skimming along the ground after her. + +Tim with a yell rushed at her and picked her up, shouting, "I got her! I +got her!" + +Then Uncle Limpy-Jack pitched into him: "What you doin' gittin' in my +way!" he complained angrily. "Ain' you got no better sense 'n to git in +my way like dat! Did n' you see how nigh I come to blowin' yo' brains +out! Did n' you see I had de hyah when you come pokin' yer wooly black +head in my way! Ef I had n' flung my gun off, whar 'd you 'a' been now! +Don' you come pokin' in my way ag'in!" + +Tim was too much elated to be long affected by even this severity, and +when he had got out of Uncle Jack's way he sang out: + + "Ole Molly Hyah, + You' ears mighty thin. + Yes, yes, yes, + I come a-t'ippin' thoo de win'!" + +So far the honors were all Uncle Jack's and Milker-Tim's, and it was +necessary for the rest of us to do something. Accordingly, the bottom +having been well hunted, the crowd struck out for an old field over +the hill, known as "the long hillside." It was thick in hen-grass +and broom-straw, and sloped down from a piece of pine with a southern +exposure on which the sun shone warm. We had not reached it before +a hare jumped out of a bush near Charlie. In a few moments, another +bounced out before one of the dogs and went dashing across the field. +Two shots followed her; but she kept on till at last one of the boys +secured her. + +We were going down the slope when Peter called in great excitement, + +"Heah a ole hyah settin' in her haid. Come heah, Dan, quick! Gi' me your +gun; le' me git him!" + +This was more than Dan bargained for, as he had not got one himself yet. +He ran up quickly enough, but held on tightly to his gun. + +"Where is he? Show him to me: I 'll knock him over." + +As he would not give up the gun, Peter pointed out the game. + +"See him?" + +"No." + +"Right under dat bush--right dyah" (pointing). "See him? Teck keer dyah, +Don, teck keer," he called, as Don came to a point just beyond. "See +him?" He pointed a black finger with tremulous eagerness. + +No, Dan did not see, so he reluctantly yielded up the gun. + +Peter took aim long and laboriously, shut both eyes, pulled the trigger, +and blazed away. + +There was a dash of white and brown, a yell, and Don wheeled around +with his head between his forepaws stung by the shot as "molly" fled +streaking it over the hill followed only by the dogs. + +Peter's face was a study. If he had killed one of us he could not have +looked more like a criminal, nor have heard more abuse. + +Uncle Limpy-Jack poured out on him such a volume of vituperation and +contempt that he was almost white, he was so ashy. + +Don was not permanently hurt; but one ear was pierced by several shot, +which was a serious affair, as his beauty was one of his good points, +and his presence on a hare-hunt was wholly against the rules. Uncle +Limpy-Jack painted the terrors of the return home for Peter with a +vividness so realistic that its painfulness pierced more breasts than +Peter's. + +Don was carried to the nearest ditch, and the entire crowd devoted +itself to doctoring his ear. It was decided that he should be taken to +the quarters and kept out of sight during the Christmas, in the hope +that his ear would heal. We all agreed not to say anything about it +if not questioned. Uncle Limpy-Jack had to be bribed into silence by a +liberal present of shot and powder from us. But he finally consented. +However, when Met, in a wild endeavor to get a shot at a stray partridge +which got up before us, missed the bird and let Uncle Limpy-Jack, at +fifty yards, have number-six pellets in the neck and shoulder, Peter's +delinquency was forgotten. The old man dropped his gun and yelled, "Oh! +Oh!" at the top of his voice. "Oh! I 'm dead, I 'm dead, I 'm dead." He +lay down on the ground and rolled. + +Met was scared to death and we were all seriously frightened. Limpy-Jack +himself may have thought he was really killed. He certainly made us +think so. He would not let anyone look at the wound. + +Only a few of the shot had gone in, and he was not seriously injured, +but he vowed that it was all done on purpose, and that he was "going +straight home and tell Marster," a threat he was only prevented from +executing by us all promising him the gold dollars which we should find +in the toes of our stockings next morning. + + + + +III + +So far the day had been rather a failure; the misfortunes had exceeded +the sport; but as we reached the long hillside I have spoken of, the fun +began. The hares were sunning themselves comfortably in their beds, and +we had not gone more than two hundred yards before we had three up, and +cutting straight down the hill before us. + +Bang!--bang!--bang!--bang! went the guns. One hare was knocked over, and +one boy also by the kick of his gun; the others were a sight chase, and +every boy, man, and dog joined in it for dear life. + +"Whoop!--whoop! Dyah she go! Dyah she go! Heah, heah! Heah, heah! Heah, +heah, heah! Whoop, Rattler! Whoop, Nimrod! Heah, Snip! heah, heah, +Bruno! Heah, heah!" Everyone was striving to get ahead. + +Both hares were picked up before reaching cover, one being caught by +Bruno, who was magnificent in a chase. After many falls and failures +by all of us, Saul flung himself on the other, and gave a wild yell of +triumph. + +The "long hillside" was full of hares; they bounced out of the +hen-grass; slipped from brush-heaps and were run down, or by their speed +and agility escaped us all. The dogs got the frenzy and chased wildly, +sometimes running over them and losing them through a clever double and +dash. The old field rang with the chase until we turned our steps toward +home to get ready for the fun after dark. + +We were crossing the pasture on our way home. The winter sunset sky was +glowing like burnished steel; the tops of the great clump of oaks and +hickories in which the house stood were all that we could see over the +far hill; a thin line of bluish smoke went straight up in the quiet air. +The dogs had gone on ahead, even the two or three old watch-dogs ran +after the others, with their noses in air. + +The question of concealing Don and his ragged ears came up. It was +necessary to catch him and keep him from the house. We started up the +slope after him. As we climbed the hill we heard them. + +"Dee got a ole hyah now; come on," exclaimed one or two of the younger +negroes; but old Limpy-Jack came to a halt, and turning his head to one +side listened. + +"Heish! Dat ain' no ole hyah dey 're arter; dey 're arter Marster's +sheep--dat 's what 'tis!" + +He started off at a rapid gait. We did the same. + +"Yep, yep! Oun, oun, oun! Err, err, err!" came their voices in full cry. + +We reached the top of the hill. Sure enough, there they were, the +fat Southdowns, tearing like mad across the field, the sound of their +trampling reaching us, with the entire pack at their heels, the pointers +well in the lead. Such a chase as we had trying to catch that pack +of mischievous dogs! Finally we got them in; but not before the whole +occurrence had been seen at the house. + +The shouts that were borne to us, as rescuers began to troop across the +fields, drove our hearts down into our boots. + +The return to the house was widely different from the triumph of the +out-going in the morning. It was a dejected cortege that wended its +toilsome way up the hill. Uncle Limpy-Jack basely deserted us after +getting the promise of our gold dollars, declaring that he "told dem +boys dat huntin' ole hyahs warn' no business for chillern!" + +We knew that we had to "face the condign." There was no maudlin +sentiment in that region. Solomon was truly believed to have been the +wisest of men, and at least one of his decrees was still acted on in +that pious community. + +The black boys were shipped off to their mammies and I fear received +their full share of "the condign." + +We were ushered solemnly into the house and were marched upstairs to +meditate on our enormities. + +We could hear the debate going on below, and now and then a gentle voice +took up the cause. Presently a slow step mounted the stair and the door +opened. It was a grave senior--owner of Don. We knew that we were gone. + +"Boys, did n't you know better than that?" + +Three culprits looked at each other sideways and remained speechless. We +were trying to figure out which was the more politic answer. + +"Now, this is Christmas----" + +"A time of peace and good-will," said Met under his breath, but loud +enough to be heard. + +"Yes--and that 's the reason I am going to appeal to you as to what +should be done to you. Suppose you were in my place and I in yours, and +you had told me never--_never_ to take the pointers out to run +hares, and I knew I was disobeying you, and yet I had done it +deliberately--_deliberately_ disobeyed you--what would you do?" + +I confess that the case seemed hopeless. But Met saved the day. + +"I 'll tell you what I 'd do, sir." + +"What?" + +"I 'd give you another chance." + +"Hm---ah--ur----" + +It was, however, too much for him, and he first began to smile and then +to laugh. Met also broke out into a laugh, knowing that he had caught +him. + +So peace and good-will were restored and Christmas really began. + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Long Hillside, by Thomas Nelson Page + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LONG HILLSIDE *** + +***** This file should be named 23514.txt or 23514.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/3/5/1/23514/ + +Produced by David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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