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Updated: June 24, 2025
And he sat down, breathing heavily from his bodily exertion, and began to rock the cradle with a vigour and gravity which might have been expected to achieve great results, if Mornin had not appeared and taken his charge into her own hands. The next day Tom went to Barnesville. He left the Cross-roads on horseback early in the morning, and reached his journey's end at noon.
Whomsoever the individual might be, he had the power to rouse them to a lively exhibition of interest. One and all braced themselves to look at the horseman approaching along the Barnesville Road. "He's a kinder curi's-lookin' feller," observed one philosopher. "Well, at a distance of half a mile, perhaps he is," said Tom.
And he bore him out of doors, set him struggling astride his mule which was cropping the grass, and struck that sagacious animal a blow upon her quarters which sent her galloping along the Barnesville Road at a pace which caused her rider to cling to her neck and body with arms and legs, in which inconvenient posture he remained, unable to recover himself, for a distance of at least half a mile.
On the following morning, at 9 o'clock, we were again on the move, driving before us small bodies of rebel cavalry, and reaching Barnesville, a small village, ten miles from our encampment of the night before.
Against "F'lishyer" Tom rebelled loudly and without ceasing, but without effect. The fanciful change came about and was adopted in this wise. In the course of a couple of weeks the box of little garments arrived from Barnesville, accompanied by a warm-hearted note from Jenny Rutherford.
"You have learned, Sheba," said the Judge, looking at the plate of light golden brown and cream white biscuit with the sensitive eye of a connoisseur. "That plate of biscuit is Barnesville and Sophrony all over." Sheba blushed with joy. "Oh, Uncle Tom," she said; "do you think it is? I should so like to remind him of Barnesville." "Good Lord!" said the Judge.
I've got into a way of dreaming I'm back to Barnesville, talking to the boys at the post-office, or listening to Jenny playing 'Home, Sweet Home' or 'The Maiden's Prayer. I was a bit down yesterday and couldn't eat, and in the night there I was in the little dining-room, putting away fried chicken and hot biscuits as fast as the nigger girl could bring the dishes on the table.
He led the way into the family-room at the back and, taking the candle from the high mantel, moved it triumphantly over the beds in which the children slept. "Here's Tom Scott!" he announced. "Tom Scott's got to have a crib to himself. Look at him now. What do you think of that for a boy? He's five years old next month, and he about runs Barnesville.
Barnesville was fifteen miles distant, and the farmers, their wives and daughters, were glad enough to stop at the Cross-roads for their calico dresses and store-coffee. By doing so they were saved a long ride and gained superior conversational advantages. "D'Willerby's mighty easy to trade with," it was said.
"Well," said Tom, "I'll go to Barnesville to-morrow and talk to Judge Rutherford's wife about it. She'll know what she ought to have." And, after a few moments given to apparently agreeable reflection, he went back to the room he had left.
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