A FOOL'S ERRAND & Its Sequel, Bricks Without Straw. Albion Winegar Tourgée
vitality by the unconscious medicament of the soft sunshine and balmy breezes, and that light labor which the care of trees and vines encouraged. He stood now critically surveying a long-neglected "Diana," on which he was about to commence operations, his pruning-knife in his hand, and his shears sticking out from a side-pocket of his overalls. At the next vine was working his interlocutor, who glanced slyly towards him as he asked the question.
"The 'League,' Andy?" said Servosse, looking at his co-laborer with an amused smile, while he tried the edge of his knife with his thumb. "What league do you mean?"
"De Union League, ob co'se. Didn't know dar was any udder. Is dah?" said Andy, as he finished tying up the vine at which he had been at work, and started to the next.
"Oh, yes! there are various kinds of leagues. But why do you inquire about the Union League? How did you ever hear of it?"
"Wal, putty much de same way you did, I 'spects," answered Andy with a grin.
"Pretty much as I did?" said Servosse. "What do you mean?"
"Why, I 'llow you b'longs to it," said Andy. "Dey tells me every Union soldier b'longs to it. 'Sides dat, I made de knocks de udder day on de work-bench, when you was workin' at de wisteria in front o' de winder, an' I seed you look up kinder sudden-like, an' den smile to youself as if you thought you'd heerd from an ole friend, an' woke up to find ye'd been a-dreamin'."
"So I did, Andy," answered the Caucasian. "Some time during the war I heard of an organization known as the Union League. It strikes me that I first heard of it in the mountains of East Tennessee, as instituted for self-protection and mutual support among the sturdy Unioners there in those trying times. However that may be, I first came in contact with its workings in the fall of 1864. It was the very darkest period of the war for us. The struggle had lasted so long that everybody was tired out. The party in the North who were opposed to the war" —
"Wasn't they called 'Copperheads'?" interrupted Andy.
"Yes, we called them 'Copperheads,'" answered the Fool. "These men seemed to think that it would be a good time to stop the war, on the idea that both sides were tired of it, and would rather end it on any terms than keep it up on uncertainties. So they were making great efforts to elect a president who would let up on the Rebellion, and enable the rebels of the South to accomplish their secession. At this while I escaped from a Confederate prison, and after a time arrived in Philadelphia. While I waited there for orders, a friend asked me one night if I didn't want to join the Union League. Upon asking what it was, I found that it was a society of men who were determined never to give up the Union under any hazard, but to uphold and sustain it with property and life if need be. It was a secret association; and its chief purpose was said to be to enable the loyal people of any city or neighborhood to muster at the shortest possible notice, to resist invasion, put down riot, or enforce the law, — to protect themselves and families, or aid the government in extremities."
"Was it any good?"asked Andy.
"Well, indeed," responded his employer musingly, "I do not know. A soldier who was on duty at the front the greater part of the war had very little opportunity for knowing what went on in his rear. I have heard that when 'Lee marched over the mountain-wall' into Maryland and Pennsylvania, and threatened Philadelphia and Baltimore, the bells of Philadelphia struck the signals of the League, and thousands rallied at their places of assembly in an instant; and that regiment after regiment of resolute minute-men were organized and equipped almost without an hour's delay. I know nothing about it."
"Do you want dis 'Concord' cut back to two eyes, like de rest, Kunnel? It's made a powerful strong growth, an' it seems a clar waste to cut it back so close," asked the hireling, as he held up for his employer's inspection a rank-grown cane of the previous year, which had run along the ground until it had appropriated the stake of a weakling neighbor, and clambered over it, smothering in its sturdy coils the growth of the rightful owner.
"Yes," said Servosse hesitatingly, "cut it down. It seems a pity, as you say, to destroy that beautiful growth; but, when vines have run wild for a time, the only way to bring them back to sober, profitable bearing, is to cut them back without scruple. Cut them down to two eyes, if they are as big as your wrist, Andy. It's wasting the past, but saving the future. And it's my notion that the same thing is true of peoples and nations, Andy. For instance, when a part of a country rebels, and runs wild for a time, it ought to have the rank wood, the wild growth, cut away without mercy. They ought to be held down, and pruned and shaped, until they are content to bear 'the peaceable fruits of righteousness,' instead of clambering about, 'cumbering the ground' with a useless growth."
"You was sayin' what de League had done, a while ago," said Andy, after there had been a period of silence, while they each cut away at their respective vines.
"Yes," said Servosse. "I have heard, too, that the order was very useful as a sort of reserve force in the rear, in putting down such terrible riots as were gotten up in New York in the dark days of the war, by emissaries of the enemy, acting with the Copperheads of the North."
"Was dar many of 'em — de Leaguers I mean?" asked Andy.
"I understand," was the reply, "that it spread pretty much all through the North in the later years of the war, and embraced a very large portion of the Union men in those states."
"Did all de Yankee soldiers belong to it?" queried the listener.
"Really, I don't know," said Servosse. "I don't suppose I have ever heard more than a dozen or two say any thing about it in the army. I suppose most of the veterans who went home on leave of absence in 1864 may have joined it while at home, and the new levies may have belonged to it. Of course, we had no need for such an organization in the army."
"Well, is der any harm in it, Kunnel? Any reason why anybody shouldn't jine it?" asked Andy earnestly.
"None in the world, that I can see," answered Servosse. "Indeed, I do not see why it should not be a good thing for the colored people to do. It would teach them to organize and work together, and they would learn in it something about those public duties which are sure very soon to be cast upon them. Besides, it is by no means sure that they may not need it as a means of self protection. I had not thought of it before; but I believe it might be a good thing."
"Dat's my notion, Mars' Kunnel. We's got a little league down h'yer to Verdenton at de schoolhouse fer de culled folks, an' we'd be mighty proud tu hev ye come down some Chuseday night. Dat we would," said Andy.
"What! you have got a chapter of the Union League there?"
"Yes. it's jes' like what you's been a-tellin' 'bout."
"How did you get it?"
"Wal, I don't jes' 'zactly know. Dar's some culled men belongs to it as was soldiers in de Union army, an' I 'llowed dey might hev fotch it wid 'em when dey come h'yer Dat's what made me ax you so close 'bout dat."
"Who belong to it? Are they all colored members?"
"Wal, de heft ob 'em is culled, ob co'se; but der's a right smart sprinklin' ob white folks, arter all. Dar's all de Ufford boys: dey wuz Unioners, an' was hidin' out all de wah; an' dey say dey hed somefin' monstrous nigh like it in de bushes, an' 'long de lines, — what dey call de 'Red Stringems,' er somethin' like dat. Den dar's Mr. Murry: he was jes' de rantankerousest Union man dat ever was, all tru de wah. I'se heerd him cuss de Kinfederacy right out when de soldiers was marchin' long de street fo' his do'. He'll du tu tie tu, he will. He says it does him good tu hear us sing 'Rally roun' de Flag,' an' de 'Battle-Cry o' Freedom,' an' sech like songs, kase he says it's his flag, an' he's only 'sprised dat everybody don't rally roun' it. I reckon der's ez much ez a dozen white folks in all. Some ez you wouldn't 'spect on't, tu. You'd du us proud ef you'd come down, Mars' Kunnel."
"Who's your president, Andy?"
"Wal, sometimes one, an' sometimes anudder, jes' accor'din' tu who's scholard enuff tu take de lead," answered Andy, with ready pride in his new toy.
The idea was very amusing to the Fool; and, the more he thought of it, the more he was convinced that it might be a valuable training-school to the inchoate citizens of the lately rebellious