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Updated: April 30, 2025
"No, she was not a beauty in her youth," said my new guide in her shy voice, "but always fluent, always a wit. Kings Port has at times thought her tongue too downright. We think that wit runs in her family, for young John Mayrant has it; and her first-cousin-once-removed put the Earl of Mainridge in his place at her father's ball in 1840.
It was the male honeymooner who addressed me. "Did I understand you to say, sir, that Mr. Mayrant had received a bruise over his left eye?" "Daphne!" called out Mrs. Trevise, "Mr. Henderson will take an orange." And so we finished our meal without further reference to eyes, or noses, or anything of the sort.
Mayrant pointed to me. "He's responsible, Daddy Ben. I'm being just as good as gold. Honest injun!" The custodian marched slowly on his way, shaking his head. "Mas' John he do go on," he repeated.
You see, they were forgetting me again; but they had furnished me with a clue. "Mr. John Mayrant has married brothers?" "Two," Mrs. Gregory responded. "John is the youngest of three children." "I hadn't heard of the brothers before." "They seldom come here. They saw fit to leave their home and their delicate mother." "Oh!" "But John," said Mrs. Gregory, "met his responsibility like a Mayrant."
"Something on it, but nothing in it!" exclaimed Mayrant; at which moderate pleasantry the custodian broke into extreme African merriment and ambled away. "You needn't have done it," protested the Southerner, and I naturally claimed my stranger's right to pay my respects in this manner. Such was our introduction, agreeable and unusual.
The mids talk English well, and are good fellows. They are very sorry for Mr. Mayrant, who was stabbed with a pike in boarding us, and Mr. Potter, another "The enemy's sick and wounded and prisoners were brought on board. At ten on the 25th, his ship, the Richard, sank. Played chess with Mr. Merry, one of the enemy's midshipmen. Beat him twice out of three.
I'll tell you something much better, but it is not mine. A clever New Yorker said that what with The Sun " "I know that paper." " what with The Sun making vice so attractive in the morning and the Post making virtue so odious in the evening, it was very hard for a man to be good in New York." "I fear I should subscribe to The Sun," said John Mayrant.
But what was it that the young lady expected time to effect for her? Her release, formally, by her young man, on the ground of his worldly ill fortune? Or was it for an offer from the owner of the Hermana that she was waiting, before she should take the step of formally releasing John Mayrant?
Weguelin's beautiful eyes were resting upon me with that disapproval I had come to know. To her, sociology and evolution and all "isms" were new-fangled inventions and murky with offense; to touch them was defilement, and in disclosing them to John Mayrant I was a corrupter of youth. She gathered it all up into a word that was radiant with a kind of lovely maternal gentleness:
I had heard enough about the difference between the old and new generations of the negro of Kings Port to believe it to be true, and I had come to discern how evidently it lay at the bottom of many things here: John Mayrant and his kind were a band united by a number of strong ties, but by nothing so much as by their hatred of the modern negro in their town.
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