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  • ccy3

    2018-01-25 11:30:04

    Mammy emerged from the hall, a huge old woman with the small, shrewd eyes of an elephant.
      She was shining black, pure African, devoted to her last drop of blood to the O’Haras, Ellen’smainstay, the despair of her three daughters, the terror of the other house servants. Mammy wasblack, but her code of conduct and her sense of pride were as high as or higher than those of herowners. She had been raised in the bedroom of Solange Robillard, Ellen O’Hara’s mother, a dainty, cold, high-nosed Frenchwoman, who spared neither her children nor her servants their justpunishment for any infringement of decorum. She had been Ellen’s mammy and had come withher from Savannah to the up-country when she married. Whom Mammy loved, she chastened.

  • ccy8

    2018-01-24 13:52:49

     Spring had come early that year, with warm quick rains and sudden frothing of pink peachblossoms and dogwood dappling with white stars the dark river swamp and far-off hills. Alreadythe plowing was nearly finished, and the bloody glory of the sunset colored the fresh-cut furrowsof red Georgia clay to even redder hues. The moist hungry earth, waiting upturned for the cottonseeds, showed pinkish on the sandy tops of furrows, vermilion and scarlet and maroon whereshadows lay along the sides of the trenches. The whitewashed brick plantation house seemed anisland set in a wild red sea, a sea of spiraling, curving, crescent billows petrified suddenly at themoment when the pink-tipped waves were breaking into surf. For here were no long, straightfurrows, such as could be seen in the yellow clay fields of the flat middle Georgia country or in thelush black earth of the coastal plantations. The rolling foothill country of north Georgia wasplowed in a million curves to keep the rich earth from

  • ccy6

    2018-01-24 13:31:03

    She meant what she said, for she could never long endure any conversation of which she wasnot the chief subject. But she smiled when she spoke, consciously deepening her dimple andfluttering her bristly black lashes as swiftly as butterflies’ wings. The boys were enchanted, as shehad intended them to be, and they hastened to apologize for boring her. They thought none the lessof her for her lack of interest. Indeed, they thought more. War was men’s business, not ladies’, andthey took her attitude as evidence of her femininity.

  • ccy4

    2018-01-24 11:38:57

     Outside, the late afternoon sun slanted down in the yard, throwing into gleaming brightness thedogwood trees that were solid masses of white blossoms against the background of new green. Thetwins’ horses were hitched in the driveway, big animals, red as their masters’ hair; and around thehorses’ legs quarreled the pack of lean, nervous possum hounds that accompanied Stuart and Brentwherever they went. A little aloof, as became an aristocrat, lay a black-spotted carriage dog,muzzle on paws, patiently waiting for the boys to go home to supper.

  • Jokerman1

    2018-01-23 14:06:46

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