Bobbie: A Story of the Confederacy
9781465668776
213 pages
Library of Alexandria
Overview
He always said he never knew which was worse, his name or his nose; but as he could get rid of neither, he accepted both in his own bright, happy way, and that ended the matter with him. Peter Black had given him the name of Mars’ Bobbie to distinguish him from Mars’ Robert, his father, and it seemed to fit so exactly and suit so well his cheery, lovable little self as a baby, and later as a boy, and even on to young manhood, that no one thought of calling him anything else, or loved any other name half so well for him. He was such a long time in coming, he used to say laughingly, that when he did get here his parents and friends and relatives, together with all the negroes on the plantation, thought he was going to be something extra; and then to be called “Bobbie,” and to have a broken nose, was so hurtful to his vanity, that, after thinking the matter over, he settled it by deciding that never again would he allow the subject to enter his mind, with the result that he became more lovable and loving than ever, and the secret of the charm all lay in the decision about his nose and name—he never thought of himself, but always of every one else first; and that is why he was so loved—he was so brave and true and honest and glad always. “White Point,” where he was born, was the centre of the Rockland district; and while the neighborhood in that section of the country was tolerably well settled, still the “quality folks” were not very numerous, and in a radius of some twenty miles there were scarcely half a dozen families that kept up any kind of an establishment. Consequently, with the exception of “Grey Cliffs”—Dr. Trevillian’s place—“White Point” stood alone for a synonym of all that was grand and elegant, and as a gathering place for all the “bus heads” of the neighboring counties, as well as many cities. Over two hundred slaves were owned by the master, and the stables were reckoned the finest in the State, for the stock included many animals of well-known and enviable records. There was a private race-track at one end of the plantation, and when at the spring and fall meets the neighbors from his own and adjoining counties met at Mars’ Robert Tayloe’s, there were times to be remembered, and good old times they were! The gentlemen brought their own horses and dogs, and in the morning after breakfast it was no unusual sight to see fifty or more blooded animals brought out by the stable boys and walked up and down for the inspection and discussion of the gentlemen who had come down to see their favorites; and it was owing to one of these occasions that Bobbie made his nose immortal. Though his eighth birthday had not yet been reached, he knew every detail of stable matters to what his mother thought an alarming degree, and the ambition of his life was to get astride a race horse. Never had he been allowed that privilege, though he had ridden bareback everything else on the place; and when he heard his father discussing, the night before the big race, the relative merits of his special pride—Dare Devil—as compared with Major Dalrymple’s Lady Virginia, he could stand it no longer, and he crept out to look for Peter Black.
