Old Delia: A Southern Reminiscence

Abstract

Old Delia.A Southern Reminiscence. Mrs. Emily C. Pearson Delia, long time a mystery to me! trusted most of all the "servants" in my cousin's family yet most suspected, how shall I sketch thee as thou art indelibly photographed on my memory? How, when I first landed South, and was put in thy care,—a "wee maiden of fifteen,"—I and my room in your care, DELIA, you remember you met me with that weird, savage face of yours twisted into the comeliest smile, and your first words of welcome ring in my years yet, DELIA,— "Is you got a mother, miss?" "Yes, DELIA, I have a mother." "An' you leave her so young!" There shone out your sympathizing heart,— out through your crusty, forbidding exterior,—leaving me at a loss to know which most you pitied, me or my mother. You were studying me, and I was no less observant of you, DELIA. You, on your part, was full of sympathy for the young lady who had come that long journey of hundreds of miles from the fabled North of which you had heard so much. You were, too, a little curious and anxious to know if I would prove an easy burden to you,—for burden I must be, when it was made your thought day and night to wait and do my bidding. If I turned out to be selfish and exacting, where would be your rest and comfort? and this in your decline of life, must—there is no denying it—have weighed on your mind. You were too old for service, DELIA, quite too old. Fifty-six to wait on fifteen! and I mentally resolved it was little you should do for me. You should only do what was a pleasure to you. You knew little of what was passing in my mind; I more of the workings of yours. How you opened your keen eyes in wonder, that first night when, unlocking my room,—you were close following me, had been waiting in the hall an hour,—I told you that you need not undress me, nor camp down on the floor at the foot of my bed; two things which you, in your dutiful capacity, offered to do. "Why, hi! is you gwine to undress yourself?" "Yes, DELIA, I've done that ever since I can remember!" [End Page 314] "You has? why, hi! all dese yer young ladies has der servants undress em ebery blessed night of their lives!" "Ah, well, my good mother taught me to dress and undress almost as soon as she taught me my prayers." "Dat is mose s'prising!" was your reply. "Why, hi! dare won't be much to do for you. I'll jes turn down de coverlets and de upper sheet of your bed, an' den I'll camp down at de foot, on de floor, an' if you wants me you ken speak; I wakes up right smart lively." "Oh, no, DELIA; go to your room and rest; I shall lock my door and do just as well without you." "You will?" with the transfiguring smile again, showing your tired bones were well pleased with the [end of page 7] idea. "Father's life! dat is s'prising!" And while she has gone to her room, as I am not in the least sleepy, I'll go on sketching her for you, readers, and tell you a secret. As the old family nurse in my cousin's household, as I have said, she was trusted above all the other house-slaves for her office and varied usefulness, and at the same time most of all suspected. Old DELIA! her dark face furrowed with sorrow! I was struck with her utter hopeless, friendless look, the moment I saw her. She had been the nurse of all the children, and many a weary day and night had bent tenderly over the couch of the sick, taking the mother's place; and more than once, when her mistress, Mrs. S., hovered on the brink of death, was her only medical attendant. She was a faithful old woman...