four of the bells had in the course of time received a nickname applicable to some peculiarity connected with them. Hence one of the bells was known by the name of "Weeping Mary," simply because it had such a lamentable sound. Another was called "Whistling Dick," deriving its name from its keen and piercing tone which was so keen and clear it was frequently heard all over the Purgoo Kingdom. But the most comical name among the bells was the one called "Stuttering Tom." This name had been applied to the bell from its peculiar sound caused by a split near its base and gave a suppressed or a smothered sound. But the last bell and the sweetest sounding bell in the State of Louisiana was called "Singing Nancy;" it had derived its name from the fact of its being situated near Nancy's cabin and its charming sound; it was surely a musical sounding bell, and was worthy of performing a more sacred mission. It was somewhat amusing to hear the many jests made concerning these bells just prior to meal time.
At one end of the plantation some weary and hungry soul would cry out, "Oh, weep Mary, weep," and away in the distance could be heard another voice shouting, "Oh, whistle Dick, whistle," "Oh, stutter Tom, stutter," "Oh, sing Nancy, sing." Echos from such voices could be heard ringing over fourteen square miles.
Old Uncle Joe, was the most aged human being on the plantation, and perhaps the oldest in the State, his age was not accurately known, but he was certainly an octogenarian, if not a centenarian. His flesh had entirely withered away until there was nothing left of him but shriveled skin and bone. But his hearing and eyesight were clear and unclouded, although the many years of his life had annihilated him physically. His daily labor consisted in ringing and polishing "Whistling Dick," the first bell, and by his occupation he had gained the sobriquet or nickname of "Bell Ringing Joe," a title he considered as eulogistic as that of General in the army.
"Bell Ringing Joe" was a very devout and a conscientious man, and unshaken in his belief of immortality. But his theory of life in the next world was that all mankind will pursue occupations in the next life which will correspond with their general pursuits in this life. And when questioned in regard to what occupation he expected to pursue in the next world, he was sure to reply: "Ise gwine to polish and ring Whistling Dick," and by what followed many were forced to believe his prophecy was correct and fulfilled.
CHAPTER IV
NANCY'S DREAM — A TERRIBLE BLOW — GLOOM — BELLS TOLLING IN THE SKY
WHAT is a dream? Who can answer? We are told that man is the offspring of his own meditation, and his thoughts constitute the basis of his soul. We know that frequently our dreams are the substance, or the reflection of our thoughts upon the brain after the body is asleep, and we must admit that we are more liable to dream at night concerning the vocations of the day.
Who can tell but what a man's thoughts or his soul steals away while the body is slumbering and wanders back through the channels where the body accompanied during the day, and further still. A man's thoughts are a commoner of the universe and wherever it wanders it is still on its own domain.
Life begins and ends in dreams, from the sleeping smile in the cradle to the babbling over the death bed as worn out nature sinks into the last sleep of all. Whoever thinks they can solve the mysteries of a dream, let them try and they will fail. The fountain formed a ring in the center of a grove, and its borders were strewn with various kinds of flowers and roses, and it was a place where Nancy was frequently found on the Sabbath day watching the sprays from the fountain gracefully curving in the air and forming rainbows in the glare of the midday sunbeams. It was on this Sabbath day while reclining beneath a rose bush she went to sleep, and dreamed that Dick Fallon rose out of the pool, and his head was a solid coal of fire and the rest of his body solid ice. And from the tremendous heat from his fiery head was reflected his face in the depths of his body, but the body still retained its original and icy appearance with Fallon's solidified face glittering within its depths.
All at once there was a crash in mid air and a meteor came rushing downward upon the statue, and fell with an awful crash; and she leaped to her feet, for her sleep had been broken by a deafening thunder peal. One glance toward the sky was sufficient to satisfy her that the impending storm was not one of the ordinary kind. The twisting and circling of the clouds and blue flashes of lightning mingling with a thousand confusing noises and the thunder peals plainly predicted the re-appearance of a Southern cyclone, the king of storms, which for years have been more destructive to Southern property and is more dreaded by the inhabitants than all the combined epidemical diseases inherent to Southern clime.
Nancy started to her cabin with her natural speed, which characterized her the queen of athletes among her sex. And surely she was the queen. I can truthfully assert that she was the most agile damsel on the plantation, and perhaps unequalled in all the Southern States. Her athletic movements may have been the only shield that protected her life, for lagging at her heels was the most destructive cyclone that ever horrified the Southern States.
The storm came from the southwest and swept across the plantation in a northeast direction, thereby cutting it in half from the southwest to the northeast corners. It left death and destruction in its wake. Only those who have witnessed a Southern cyclone can form any adequate idea of its destructive power. Its awful fury was not more than one-half mile in width and everything within its path was forced to disappear. The air was filled with flying debris, and huge trees that had resisted the storms of centuries were wrenched from their places and lifted high in the air; and many of them were reduced to kindling wood. Many slave huts were raised to a dizzy height and then hurled back to the earth again with a tremendous force, and the lifeless forms of forty slaves were buried in the wreck.
The storm continued to rage from four o'clock Sunday afternoon until near midnight. But the greatest damage was wrought during the first half hour.
Monday morning the sun rose bright and clear and Dick Fallon gazed at the ruins in complete silence, and then with an oath remarked, "that he could not see how in h — — l the sun can dare to shine on his premises to-day, when it would not shine yesterday." He immediately issued an order that every human being on the place should begin at once at clearing away the debris and wreckage caused by the storm.
And in fact there was nothing else to do, for all the agricultural products had disappeared; not a stack of grain or bale of cotton could be found on the Purgoo Kingdom.
After issuing the order, Fallon entered his palatial studio, and began writing the following letter to Paris, France.
MONROE, LA., October 1st 18 — — .
Mr. W. H. Purgoo: — —
DEAR SIR: — — I am compelled to covey to you a missive, the contents of which I would like to have of a different nature. But your presence is surely needed here, for your plantation has been baptised with the d — — — — storms on record. If you was here at present and could behold the farm you would be forced to believe it had been raining dead horses, mules and dead niggers for a month. A cyclone passed over the plantation yesterday and it was loaded to the very muzzle with all manner of rubbish and carcasses it could gather between here and the rocky mountains, and it dumped its whole load on this plantation. Whole trees are stacked on the farm that were uprooted in another State, Mississippi. Forty of your niggers were killed, and more are dying, and two-thirds of our blooded stock are buried under the debris. "Bell Ringing Joe" was killed and "Whistling Dick" was carried away in the storm. I can't give you the accurate account of our loss until the wrecks are moved. I shall look for a reply, so please remember I am, truly yours,
D. K. FALLON.
A few weeks later he received the following reply:
PARIS, FRANCE, October 29, 18 — — .
Mr. D. K. Fallon: — —
DEAR SIR: — — Your letter, which arrived to-day, not only surprises me but even surpasses my imagination. You will please receive my sincere condolence and sympathy in your hours of sad misfortune. The loss of our blooded stock and "Whistling Dick" is not only a