whatever cause or to whatever extent, thither the bummer repaired, nor did he leave till his ramrod probe told him that nothing more valuable than stones and earth was to be found thereunder.

The cleverest work of this kind that I heard of was performed by two old ladies. After casting around for a secure hiding-place for the things on which they set the greatest store, they finally hit on the following novel expedient. At the dead of night, while all the negroes slept, with much toil they succeeded in removing the front steps, and where the bottom one lay, fortunately a broad plank, a hole was dug, the treasure secreted therein, and the steps and surroundings replaced and made to look as if untouched for half a century. The surplus earth from the hole was thrown into the well. As the rest of the ground, except where the bottom step very naturally rested, was perfectly open to the eye, the shrewdest bummer might have entered the house many times without suspecting on what he trod.

One old woman, with a sublime ignorance of the penchant of Mars, hid her hoard of silver coin, which not even the allurements of war times had been able to wrest from her grasp, under a sitting hen. Martin gourds, clusters of which were to be seen at every house, hung on poles as inviting building-places for this mortal enemy of the chicken-hawk, held many a gold trinket and family heirloom in those troublous times. More than one urchin's rough homespun roundabout, like Shakespeare's toad, bore yet a precious jewel in its midst; urchin being innocent as toad of its presence.

As a rule the negroes were not relied on, and were kept in ignorance of what was going on. A few families confided in their house servants, committing silverware, watches, jewelry, valuable papers, and all to their care. In not a single instance in our neighborhood was this confidence betrayed. Since the slaves were distrusted, all the labor of concealment

one.

fell on the whites, and very often, indeed, on the white women; the men being in their graves, or absent in the field, or in prison. Ladies who had never in their lives left the house, even in the daytime, without an escort, wielded other tool than a riding-whip or lifted heavier weight than a tea-urn, bore heavy burdens, unaided, to the woods at midnight, and plied the grubbing-hoe and the spade, when the sustenance of their children was at stake. The conditions under which the work had to be done, and the nervous tension inseparable from it, rendered it vastly more onerous and wearing. The plantation negro, even yet a "night hawk," was then much more of Few were the hours of the night when he was not astir. If he were eluded, his dog had to be counted on. These dangers past, there came the confusion of localities under the strange, weird aspect they wear in the dark, and the stumble over stones and vines, when, heavy freighted as they were, a fall meant serious injury. Then, no sooner was a site selected and digging begun than it did seem as if, by common consent, the roots and stones of the whole neighborhood had preëmpted that particular spot. The interment effected, and no pains spared to leave the place exactly as it had been, the chances were that daylight would disclose such a bungling attempt at concealment that much, if not all, of the work would have to be done over again. The nearer a graveyard or other "ha'nted" spot the hiding was done, the less the danger of interruption or of subsequent discovery. The negro never tarried near such places as these. If by night he heard or saw aught thereabouts, he lingered all the less.

That no condition of life, however sad, is without its humorous side we had still other reminders. Two ladies, after getting all their negroes out of the way, had, in the daytime, lugged a valuable and heavy box off into the woods. Here they set about burying it. With

infinite labor and worry a hole had been dug among the roots, their burden deposited therein, and mould and leaves were being placed in statu quo, when they were startled by the sound of footsteps rustling among the dead leaves. The novices in woodcraft crouched on the ground, keeping very still and conversing in low whispers. As to the number of the intruders their opinions differed. One thought, from the noise made, that there were four or five; the other declared there must be at least twice as many. Alarm grew into consternation when the footsteps came straight towards them, and along the very way they had just trod. The pine thicket was too dense to be seen through, but the leisurely advance was proof enough that their trail from the house was being studied and followed. To the question Who followed trails? there could be but one answer: Bummers! Too frightened for flight, even if, with the foe upon them, flight had not been hopeless, all that could be done was to lie low and pray that Providence might lead the pursuers astray. Forty yards dwindled to thirty, to twenty, to ten. The inmost screen of pines was now a-quiver. A long black cylinder was thrust through, which imaginations much less wrought up than theirs might easily have transformed into a gun-barrel, had not a sudden "Whoof!" and scampering betrayed the presence of a rambling porker.

Not very far away lived a man who had been a negro trader. Among his effects, tools of his odious business, were a number of handcuffs. Whatever betided, he felt that a bluecoat must never ⚫ see these. Gold and silver lay untouched till these tell-tale implements had been safely disposed of. As it turned out, they did prove a veritable Nemesis. First they were placed in a bag and buried in the woods. The hogs rooted them up. Then they were removed, and buried more deeply in an old field. In a few days a washing rain swept off the litter,

and disclosed the presence of fresh digging. In the small hours of the night following, up came the handcuffs, and into the well they went. There, it seemed, they must be safe. But not so. In the hurry of the moment their owner had failed to remove the bag; and just at the wrong time, when the Federals were hourly expected, the bag, very naturally getting entangled in the iron-bound well-bucket, was brought up to its half-frantic owner. After that the irons were separated, and cast, one at a time, into a distant stream, where, so far as I know, they still repose.

More than one family, after a night's work done, as was thought, in the profoundest secrecy, would be panic-stricken when a pickaninny let slip a word going to show that everything was known to the negroes. Perhaps when a hoe or spade was missed and inquired after, some sable youngster would be ready to "'clar' fo' God, I ai' sot eyes awn hit sence dat night mistis had it out in de back er de gyarden," etc. But these things seem a great deal funnier now than they did then.

I will turn from this digression to take up the thread of events. The neighbors having thus disposed of more or less of their effects, according to the value set upon them by each, and his apprehension of a Federal advance in our direction, we now awaited tidings of an actual approach before hurrying off the horses and cattle to fastnesses already chosen. This was deferred till the last moment, partly because of the difficulty of feeding them in remote places, but mainly from the impossibility of keeping their whereabouts long hidden from malicious or indiscreet persons. There was only one bridge across the river anywhere in the vicinity, and this was closely watched from the adjacent hills. I well remember acting as sentinel on one occasion.

Throughout the forenoon not a living soul came in sight. A little later, a

pression, ventured but little between the lines of march, confining their depredations mostly to the outer flanks of each column.

Great was our surprise at the conduct of the troops. Strict orders must have been issued forbidding the entrance of any private house; for although numbers straggled over from the main body, it was only after a sharp lookout for officers and much pressing on our part that one would venture in to partake of the food prepared as a peace offering. Still greater was our surprise, in our ignorance of the indiscriminating license of the camp, when they pillaged the negro houses, taking bacon, chickens, and such eatables as they saw and fancied.

Our chief apprehension was for the night; and miserable indeed would have been the hours of darkness but for the opportune arrival of a friend just returned from the Confederate army, who remained till the next day. Reassured by his presence, with loaded firearms secreted within easy reach, we made the best of it. The night passed without disturbance. Before the following noon the coluinn had swept by and disappeared, leaving among other mementos of the call the corps marks, XX, chopped on the wayside trees, where, after more than a quarter of a century, faint, blurred traces of them may still be seen.

Peace and quiet once more restored, the business next in order was to recover the hidden things. This may seem simple enough; but it was not. Intent only on secreting their valuables past detection, some succeeded even better than they intended, and put them not only beyond discovery, but beyond recovery also. In fact, not a few, like Captain Kidd's treasure, are yet unfound. Many a box of spoons and of old family silver committed to Mother Earth, amid the hurry and excitement of those feverish days, or rather nights, still reposes in her broad bosom, dumb, impartial old guardian that she is.

Till tested as a landmark, no one dreamed how many duplicates a certain tree, gully, or rock - pile could have, or how many hollows and fissured stones there can be in a small piece of woods. The finding of things buried along fencecorners, the spot being marked on the fence, was sometimes hindered by the accidental burning of the fence, and oftener still by the appropriation by some strolling darky of the marked top rail for fuel.

A very humorous and yet very pathetic case occurred near our schoolhouse. A worthy but somewhat miserly old man had a small sum of silver, - perhaps a hundred dollars, — the hoardings of many years, which, at the first note of alarm, he buried at night by a rock-pile in an adjacent cornfield. When, all danger past, he sought to unearth it, he found that the number of rock - piles in that cornfield had multiplied amazingly, and all grown strangely alike. Fearing, in those unsettled days, to be known as the owner of so much wealth, he dug, prod ded, and thumped among stones and briers night after night for a long time before he disclosed his trouble to any one. Then he took into confidence an old crony of his, and in conjunction with him the digging, prodding, and thumping were all done over again. These also failing, more and more were called into council, and their brains and muscles invoked, till first and last the whole neighborhood had taken a hand, and it had become a very open secret indeed. Yet not only was the coin never found, but there was no spot where the earth showed the least sign of disturbance, which seemed to preclude the idea of its having been stolen. Finally, "as hard to find as Uncle Billy Knuckle's silver" - as I will call it passed into a proverb. Still Uncle Billy never gave up, although enough labor must have been expended on that field to yield many hundred dollars, had it been turned to planting corn instead of digging coin.

He always persisted in searching and pestering. Not till the other day was the matter finally ended; and then, alas, in that summary manner that most of our little affairs are settled. For a long while I had lost sight of the old man, but then, happening to be driving that way, I met in the road a straggling line of vehicles. It was a funeral procession. Death had at last disposed of the matter for Uncle Billy.

Many stories were told of the narrow escapes from discovery of hidden valuables. A squad of Federals built a camp-fire just over a box of buried silverware, yet found it not. The hoof of a trooper's horse actually sank in the soft, fresh dirt that filled a treasure pit, by a happy stroke of luck without causing suspicion. Many a family sat in fear and trembling while iron ramrods probed every spot but the right one.

A word as to the condition of the recovered things. Almost without exception their plight was a sorry one, and in many instances they were entirely ruined. Buried silverware was tarnished so deeply that it was never the same again. Val

uable deeds and bonds had often turned to pulp, or become illegible. If a single watch thus concealed ever after served as a timekeeper, I never heard of it. Even when buried in air-tight fruit-jars and in the driest places, the mere condensation of the moisture in the inclosed air, caused by contact with the chilled earth, always sufficed to rust and spoil the delicate steel works beyond repair. Those hid above ground fared much better. There is still in use in the village an excellent gold chronometer that, during April and May, 1865, adorned the inside of a hollow tree.

Paintings, many of which had been cut from their frames and buried, being first rolled and, as it was thought, rendered waterproof, fared almost as bad. At the Raleigh Exposition, held in 1884, there were exhibited two very fine portraits by Sir Joshua Reynolds, whose glory had been thus dimmed forever. Little could the genial knight or the stately pair who sat for him have dreamed of the strange vicissitudes that, in a foreign land, these richly colored canvases were to pass through, or the strange hiding-places they were to seek. David Dodge.