diff options
| -rw-r--r-- | .gitattributes | 3 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 20745-8.txt | 12209 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 20745-8.zip | bin | 0 -> 285061 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 20745-h.zip | bin | 0 -> 289170 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 20745-h/20745-h.htm | 12518 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 20745-page-images.zip | bin | 0 -> 13941347 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 20745.txt | 12209 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 20745.zip | bin | 0 -> 285017 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | LICENSE.txt | 11 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | README.md | 2 |
10 files changed, 36952 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/20745-8.txt b/20745-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3325732 --- /dev/null +++ b/20745-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,12209 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of An Outcast, by F. Colburn Adams + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: An Outcast + or, Virtue and Faith + +Author: F. Colburn Adams + +Release Date: March 5, 2007 [EBook #20745] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AN OUTCAST *** + + + + +Produced by Graeme Mackreth, Curtis Weyant and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images produced by the Wright +American Fiction Project.) + + + + + + +AN OUTCAST; + +OR, + +VIRTUE AND FAITH. + +BY + +F. COLBURN ADAMS. + + +"Be merciful to the erring." + +NEW YORK: +PUBLISHED BY M. DOOLADY, +49 WALKER STREET. +1861. + + +Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1861, + +BY M. DOOLADY, + +In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the +Southern District of New York. + + + + +PREFACE. + + +When reason and conscience are a man's true guides to what he +undertakes, and he acts strictly in obedience to them, he has little to +fear from what the unthinking may say. You cannot, I hold, mistake a man +intent only on doing good. You may differ with him on the means he calls +to his aid; but having formed a distinct plan, and carried it out in +obedience to truth and right, it will be difficult to impugn the +sincerity of his motives. For myself, I care not what weapon a man +choose, so long as he wield it effectively, and in the cause of humanity +and justice. We are a sensitive nation, prone to pass great moral evils +over in silence rather than expose them boldly, or trace them to their +true sources. I am not indifferent to the duty every writer owes to +public opinion, nor the penalties he incurs in running counter to it. +But fear of public opinion, it seems to me, has been productive of much +evil, inasmuch as it prefers to let crime exist rather than engage in +reforms. Taking this view of the matter, I hold fear of public opinion +to be an evil much to be deplored. It aids in keeping out of sight that +which should be exposed to public view, and is satisfied to pass +unheeded the greatest of moral evils. Most writers touch these great +moral evils with a timidity that amounts to fear, and in describing +crimes of the greatest magnitude, do it so daintily as to divest their +arguments of all force. The public cannot reasonably be expected to +apply a remedy for an evil, unless the cause as well as the effect be +exposed truthfully to its view. It is the knowledge of their existence +and the magnitude of their influence upon society, which no false +delicacy should keep out of sight, that nerves the good and generous to +action. I am aware that in exciting this action, great care should be +taken lest the young and weak-minded become fascinated with the gilding +of the machinery called to the writer's aid. It is urged by many good +people, who take somewhat narrow views of this subject, that in dealing +with the mysteries of crime vice should only be described as an ugly +dame with most repulsive features. I differ with those persons. It would +be a violation of the truth to paint her thus, and few would read of her +in such an unsightly dress. These persons do not, I think, take a +sufficiently clear view of the grades into which the vicious of our +community are divided, and their different modes of living. They found +their opinions solely on the moral and physical condition of the most +wretched and abject class, whose sufferings they would have us hold up +to public view, a warning to those who stand hesitating on the brink +between virtue and vice. I hold it better to expose the allurements +first, and then paint vice in her natural colors--a dame so gay and +fascinating that it is difficult not to become enamored of her. The ugly +and repulsive dame would have few followers, and no need of writers to +caution the unwary against her snares. And I cannot forget, that truth +always carries the more forcible lesson. But we must paint the road to +vice as well as the castle, if we would give effect to our warning. That +road is too frequently strewn with the brightest of flowers, the thorns +only discovering themselves when the sweetness of the flowers has +departed. I have chosen, then, to describe things as they are. You, +reader, must be the judge whether I have put too much gilding on the +decorations. + +I confess that the subject of this work was not congenial to my +feelings. I love to deal with the bright and cheerful of life; to leave +the dark and sorrowful to those whose love for them is stronger than +mine. Nor am I insensible to the liabilities incurred by a writer who, +having found favor with the public, ventures upon so delicate and +hazardous an undertaking. It matters not how carefully and discreetly he +perform the task, there will always be persons enough to question his +sincerity and cast suspicion upon his motives. What, I have already been +asked, was my motive for writing such a book as this? Why did I descend +into the repulsive haunts of the wretched and the gilded palaces of the +vicious for the material of a novel? My answer is in my book. + +NEW YORK, _January 1st_, 1861. + + + + +AN OUTCAST. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +CHARLESTON. + + +This simple story commences on a November evening, in the autumn of +185-. Charleston and New York furnish me with the scenes and characters. + +Our quaint old city has been in a disquiet mood for several weeks. +Yellow fever has scourged us through the autumn, and we have again taken +to scourging ourselves with secession fancies. The city has not looked +up for a month. Fear had driven our best society into the North, into +the mountains, into all the high places. Business men had nothing to do; +stately old mansions were in the care of faithful slaves, and there was +high carnival in the kitchen. Fear had shut up the churches, shut up the +law-courts, shut up society generally. There was nothing for lawyers to +do, and the buzzards found it lonely enough in the market-place. The +clergy were to be found at fashionable watering-places, and politicians +found comfort in cards and the country. Timid doctors had taken to their +heels, and were not to be found. Book-keepers and bank-clerks were on +Sullivan's Island. The poor suffered in the city, and the rich had not a +thought to give them. Grave-looking men gathered into little knots, at +street corners, and talked seriously of Death's banquet. Old negroes +gathered about the kitchen-table, and terrified themselves with tales of +death: timid ones could not be got to pass through streets where the +scourge raged fiercest. Mounted guardsmen patrolled the lonely streets +at night, their horses' hoofs sounding on the still air, like a solemn +warning through a deserted city. + +Sisters of Mercy, in deep, dark garments, moved noiselessly along the +streets, by day and by night, searching out and ministering to the sick +and the dying. Like brave sentinels, they never deserted their posts. +The city government was in a state of torpor. The city government did +not know what to do. The city government never did know what to do. Four +hundred sick and dying lay languishing in the hospital. The city +government was sorry for them, and resolved that Providence would be the +best doctor. The dead gave place to the dying by dozens, and there has +been high carnival down in the dead-yard. The quick succession of +funeral trains has cast a shade of melancholy over the broad road that +leads to it. Old women are vending pies and cakes at the gates, and +little boys are sporting over the newly-made graves, that the wind has +lashed into furrows. Rude coffins stand about in piles, and tipsy +negroes are making the very air jubilant with the songs they bury the +dead to. + +A change has come over the scene now. There is no more singing down in +the dead-yard. A bright sun is shedding its cheerful rays over the broad +landscape, flowers deck the roadside, and the air comes balmy and +invigorating. There has been frost down in the lowlands. A solitary +stranger paces listlessly along the walks of the dead-yard, searching +in vain for the grave of a departed friend. The scourge has left a sad +void between friends living and friends gone to eternal rest. Familiar +faces pass us on the street, only to remind us of familiar faces passed +away forever. The city is astir again. Society is coming back to us. +There is bustle in the churches, bustle in the law courts, bustle in the +hotels, bustle along the streets, bustle everywhere. There is bustle at +the steamboat landings, bustle at the railway stations, bustle in all +our high places. Vehicles piled with trunks are hurrying along the +streets; groups of well-dressed negroes are waiting their master's +return at the landings, or searching among piles of trunks for the +family baggage. Other groups are giving Mas'r and Missus such a cordial +greeting. Society is out of an afternoon, on King street, airing its +dignity. There is Mr. Midshipman Button, in his best uniform, inviting +the admiration of the fair, and making such a bow to all distinguished +persons. Midshipman Button, as he is commonly called, has come home to +us, made known to us the pleasing fact that he is ready to command our +"navy" for us, whenever we build it for him. There is Major Longstring, +of the Infantry, as fine a man in his boots as woman would fancy, ready +to fight any foe; and corporal Quod, of the same regiment, ready to +shoulder his weapon and march at a moment. We have an immense admiration +for all these heroes, just now; it is only equalled by their admiration +of themselves. The buzzards, too, have assumed an unusual air of +importance--are busy again in the market; and long-bearded politicians +are back again, at their old business, getting us in a state of +discontent with the Union and everybody in general. + +There is a great opening of shutters among the old mansions. The music +of the organ resounds in the churches, and we are again in search of the +highest pinnacle to pin our dignity upon. Our best old families have +been doing the North extensively, and come home to us resolved never to +go North again. But it is fashionable to go North, and they will break +this resolution when spring comes. Mamma, and Julia Matilda have brought +home an immense stock of Northern millinery, all paid for with the +hardest of Southern money, which papa declares the greatest evil the +state suffers under. He has been down in the wilderness for the last ten +years, searching in vain for a remedy. The North is the hungry dog at +the door, and he will not be kicked away. So we have again mounted that +same old hobby-horse. There was so much low-breeding at the North, +landlords were so extortionate, vulgarity in fine clothes got in your +way wherever you went, servants were so impertinent, and the trades +people were so given to cheating. We would shake our garments of the +North, if only some one would tell us how to do it becomingly. + +Master Tom and Julia Matilda differ with the old folks on this great +question of bidding adieu to the North. Tom had a "high old time +generally," and is sorry the season closed so soon. Julia Matilda has +been in a pensive mood ever since she returned. That fancy ball was so +brilliant; those moonlight drives were so pleasant; those flirtations +were carried on with such charming grace! A dozen little love affairs, +like pleasant dreams, are touching her heart with their sweet +remembrance. The more she contemplates them the sadder she becomes. +There are no drives on the beach now, no moonlight rambles, no +promenades down the great, gay verandah, no waltzing, no soul-stirring +music, no tender love-tales told under the old oaks. But they brighten +in her fancy, and she sighs for their return. She is a prisoner now, +surrounded by luxury in the grim old mansion. Julia Matilda and Master +Tom will return to the North when spring comes, and enjoy whatever there +is to be enjoyed, though Major Longstring and Mr. Midshipman Button +should get us safe out of the Union. + +Go back with us, reader, not to the dead-yard, but to the quiet walks of +Magnolia Cemetery, hard by. A broad avenue cuts through the centre, and +stretches away to the west, down a gently undulating slope. Rows of tall +pines stand on either side, their branches forming an arch overhead, and +hung with long, trailing moss, moving and whispering mysteriously in the +gentle wind. Solemn cypress trees mark the by-paths; delicate flowers +bloom along their borders, and jessamine vines twine lovingly about the +branches of palmetto and magnolia trees. An air of enchanting harmony +pervades the spot; the dead could repose in no prettier shade. +Exquisitely chiselled marbles decorate the resting-places of the rich; +plain slabs mark those of the poor. + +It is evening now. The shadows are deepening down the broad avenue, the +wind sighs touchingly through the tall pines, and the sinking sun is +shedding a deep purple hue over the broad landscape. A solitary +mocking-bird has just tuned its last note, and sailed swiftly into the +dark hedgerow, down in the dead-yard. + +A young girl, whose fair oval face the sun of eighteen summers has +warmed into exquisite beauty, sits musingly under a cypress tree. Her +name is Anna Bonnard, and she is famous in all the city for her beauty, +as well as the symmetry of her form. Her dress is snowy white, fastened +at the neck with a blue ribbon, and the skirts flowing. Her face is +like chiselled marble, her eyes soft, black, and piercing, and deep, +dark tresses of silky hair fall down her shoulders to her waist. Youth, +beauty, and innocence are written in every feature of that fair face, +over which a pensive smile now plays, then deepens into sadness. Here +she has sat for several minutes, her head resting lightly on her right +hand, and her broad sun-hat in her left, looking intently at a newly +sodded grave with a plain white slab, on which is inscribed, in black +letters--"Poor Miranda." This is all that betrays the sleeper beneath. + +"And this is where they have laid her," she says, with a sigh. "Poor +Miranda! like me, she was lost to this world. The world only knew the +worst of her." And the tears that steal from her eyes tell the tale of +her affection. "Heaven will deal kindly with the outcast, for Heaven +only knows her sorrows." She rises quickly from her seat, casts a glance +over the avenue, then pats the sods with her hands, and strews cypress +branches and flowers over the grave, saying, "This is the last of poor +Miranda. Some good friend has laid her here, and we are separated +forever. It was misfortune that made us friends." She turns slowly from +the spot, and walks down the avenue towards the great gate leading to +the city. A shadow crosses her path; she hesitates, and looks with an +air of surprise as the tall figure of a man advances hastily, saying, +"Welcome, sweet Anna--welcome home." + +He extends his gloved hand, which she receives with evident reluctance. +"Pray what brought you here, Mr. Snivel?" she inquires, fixing her eyes +on him, suspiciously. + +"If you would not take it impertinent, I might ask you the same +question. No, I will not. It was your charms, sweetest Anna. Love can +draw me--I am a worshipper at its fountain. And as for law,--you know I +live by that." + +Mr. Snivel is what may be called a light comedy lawyer; ready to enter +the service of any friend in need. He is commonly called "Snivel the +lawyer," although the profession regard him with suspicion, and society +keeps him on its out skirts. He is, in a word, a sportsman of small +game, ready to bring down any sort of bird that chances within reach of +his fowling-piece. He is tall of figure and slender, a pink of fashion +in dress, wears large diamonds, an eye-glass, and makes the most of a +light, promising moustache. His face is small, sharp, and discolored +with the sun, his eyes grey and restless, his hair fair, his mouth wide +and characterless. Cunning and low intrigue are marked in every feature +of his face; and you look in vain for the slightest evidence of a frank +and manly nature. + +"Only heard you were home an hour ago. Set right off in pursuit of you. +Cannot say exactly what impelled me. Love, perhaps, as I said before." +Mr. Snivel twirls his hat in the air, and condescends to say he feels in +an exceedingly happy state of mind. "I knew you needed a protector, and +came to offer myself as your escort. I take this occasion to say, that +you have always seen me in the false light my enemies magnify me in." + +"I have no need of your escort, Mr. Snivel; and your friendship I can +dispense with, since, up to this time, it has only increased my +trouble," she interposes, continuing down the avenue. + +"We all need friends----" + +"True friends, you mean, Mr. Snivel." + +"Well, then, have it so. You hold that all is false in men. I hold no +such thing. Come, give me your confidence, Anna. Look on the bright +side. Forget the past, and let the present serve. When you want a +friend, or a job of law, call on me." Mr. Snivel adjusts his eye-glass, +and again twirls his hat. + +The fair girl shakes her head and says, "she hopes never to need either. +But, tell me, Mr. Snivel, are you not the messenger of some one else?" +she continues. + +"Well, I confess," he replies, with a bow, "its partly so and partly not +so. I came to put in one word for myself and two for the judge. Its no +breach of confidence to say he loves you to distraction. At home in any +court, you know, and stands well with the bar----" + +"Love for me! He can have no love for me. I am but an outcast, tossed on +the sea of uncertainty; all bright to-day, all darkness to-morrow. Our +life is a stream of excitement, down which we sail quickly to a +miserable death. I know the doom, and feel the pang. But men do not love +us, and the world never regrets us. Go, tell him to forget me." + +"Forget you? not he. Sent me to say he would meet you to-night. You are +at the house of Madame Flamingo, eh?" + +"I am; and sorry am I that I am. Necessity has no choice." + +"You have left Mulholland behind, eh? Never was a fit companion for you. +Can say that without offence. He is a New York rough, you know. +Charleston gentlemen have a holy dislike of such fellows." + +"He has been good to me. Why should I forsake him for one who affects to +love me to-day, and will loathe me to-morrow? He has been my only true +friend. Heaven may smile on us some day, and give us enough to live a +life of virtue and love. As for the mystery that separates me from my +parents, that had better remain unsolved forever." As she says this, +they pass out of the great gate, and are on the road to the city. + +A darker scene is being enacted in a different part of the city. A grim +old prison, its walls, like the state's dignity, tumbling down and going +to decay; its roof black with vegetating moss, and in a state of +dilapidation generally,--stands, and has stood for a century or more, on +the western outskirts of the city. We have a strange veneration for this +damp old prison, with its strange histories cut on its inner walls. It +has been threatening to tumble down one of these days, and it does not +say much for our civilization that we have let it stand. But the +question is asked, and by grave senators, if we pull it down, what shall +we do with our pick-pockets and poor debtors? We mix them nicely up +here, and throw in a thief for a messmate. What right has a poor debtor +to demand that the sovereign state of South Carolina make a distinction +between poverty and crime? It pays fifteen cents a day for getting them +all well starved; and there its humanity ends, as all state humanity +should end. + +The inner iron gate has just closed, and two sturdy constables have +dragged into the corridor a man, or what liquor has left of a man, and +left him prostrate and apparently insensible on the floor. "Seventh time +we've bring'd him 'ere a thin two months. Had to get a cart, or Phin and +me never'd a got him 'ere," says one of the men, drawing a long breath, +and dusting the sleeves of his coat with his hands. + +"An officer earns what money he gits a commitin' such a cove," says the +other, shaking his head, and looking down resentfully at the man on the +floor. "Life'll go out on him like a kan'l one of these days." Officer +continues moralizing on the bad results of liquor, and deliberately +draws a commitment from his breast pocket. "Committed by Justice +Snivel--breaking the peace at the house of Madame----" He cannot make +out the name. + +First officer interposes learnedly--"Madame Flamingo." "Sure enuf, he's +been playin' his shines at the old woman's house again. Why, Master +Jailer, Justice Snivel must a made fees enuf a this 'ere cove to make a +man rich enough," continues Mr. Constable Phin. + +"As unwelcome a guest as comes to this establishment," rejoins the +corpulent old jailer, adjusting his spectacles, and reading the +commitment, a big key hanging from the middle finger of his left hand. +"Used to be sent up here by his mother, to be starved into reform. He is +past reform. The poor-house is the place to send him to, 'tis." + +"Well, take good care on him, Master Jailer, now you've got him. He +comes of a good enough family," says the first officer. + +"He's bin in this condition more nor a week--layin' down yonder, in Snug +Harbor. Liquor's drived all the sense out on him," rejoins the +second--and bidding the jailer good-morning, they retire. + +The forlorn man still lies prostrate on the floor, his tattered garments +and besotted face presenting a picture of the most abject wretchedness. +The old jailer looks down upon him with an air of sympathy, and shakes +his head. + +"The doctor that can cure you doesn't live in this establishment," he +says. The sound of a voice singing a song is heard, and the figure of a +powerfully framed man, dressed in a red shirt and grey homespun +trousers, advances, folds his arms deliberately, and contemplates with +an air of contempt the prostrate man. His broad red face, flat nose, +massive lips, and sharp grey eyes, his crispy red hair, bristling over a +low narrow forehead, and two deep scars on the left side of his face, +present a picture of repulsiveness not easily described. Silently and +sullenly he contemplates the object before him for several minutes, then +says: + +"Dogs take me, Mister Jailer! but he's what I calls run to the dogs. +That's what whisky's did for him." + +"And what it will do for you one of these days," interrupts the jailer, +admonishingly. "Up for disturbing the peace at Madame Flamingo's. +Committed by Justice Snivel." + +"Throwing stones by way of repentance, eh? Tom was, at one time, as good +a customer as that house had. A man's welcome at that house when he's up +in the world. He's sure a gittin' kicked out when he is down." + +"He's here, and we must get him to a cell," says the jailer, setting his +key down and preparing to lift the man on his feet. + +"Look a here, Tom Swiggs,--in here again, eh?" resumes the man in the +red shirt. "Looks as if you liked the institution. Nice son of a +respectable mother, you is!" He stoops down and shakes the prostrate man +violently. + +The man opens his eyes, and casts a wild glance on the group of wan +faces peering eagerly at him. "I am bad enough. You are no better than +me," he whispers. "You are always here." + +"Not always. I am a nine months' guest. In for cribbing voters. Let out +when election day comes round, and paid well for my services. Sent up +when election is over, and friends get few. No moral harm in cribbing +voters. You wouldn't be worth cribbing, eh, Tom? There ain't no +politician what do'nt take off his hat, and say--'Glad to see you, +Mister Mingle,' just afore election." The man folds his arms and walks +sullenly down the corridor, leaving the newcomer to his own reflections. +There is a movement among the group looking on; and a man in the garb of +a sailor advances, presses his way through, and seizing the prostrate by +the hand, shakes it warmly and kindly. "Sorry to see you in here agin, +Tom," he says, his bronzed face lighting up with the fires of a generous +heart. "There's no man in this jail shall say a word agin Tom Swiggs. We +have sailed shipmates in this old craft afore." + +The man was a sailor, and the prisoner's called him Spunyarn, by way of +shortness. Indeed, he had became so familiarized to the name, that he +would answer to none other. His friendship for the inebriate was of the +most sincere kind. He would watch over him, and nurse him into sobriety, +with the care and tenderness of a brother. "Tom was good to me, when he +had it;" he says, with an air of sympathy. "And here goes for lendin' a +hand to a shipmate in distress." He takes one arm and the jailer the +other, and together they support the inebriate to his cell. "Set me down +for a steady boarder, and have done with it," the forlorn man mutters, +as they lay him gently upon the hard cot. "Down for steady board, +jailer--that's it." + +"Steady, steady now," rejoins the old sailor, as the inebriate tosses +his arms over his head. "You see, there's a heavy ground swell on just +now, and a chap what don't mind his helm is sure to get his spars +shivered." He addresses the the jailer, who stands looking with an air +of commiseration on the prostrate man. "Take in head-sail--furl +top-gallant-sails--reef topsails--haul aft main-sheet--put her helm +hard down--bring her to the wind, and there let her lay until it comes +clear weather." The man writhes and turns his body uneasily. "There, +there," continues the old sailor, soothingly; "steady, steady,--keep her +away a little, then let her luff into a sound sleep. Old Spunyarn's the +boy what'll stand watch." A few minutes more and the man is in a deep, +sound sleep, the old sailor keeping watch over him so kindly, so like a +true friend. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +THE HOUSE OF A VERY DISTINGUISHED LADY. + + +The mansion of Madame Flamingo stands stately in Berresford street. An +air of mystery hangs over it by day, and it is there young Charleston +holds high carnival at night. It is a very distinguished house, and +Madame Flamingo assures us she is a very distinguished lady, who means +to make her peace with heaven before she dies, and bestow largely on the +priests, who have promised to make her comfortable while on the road +through purgatory. The house is in high favor with young Charleston, and +old Charleston looks in now and then. Our city fathers have great +sympathy for it, and protect it with their presence. Verily it is a +great gate on the road to ruin, and thousands pass heedlessly through +its decorated walks, quickly reaching the dark end. + +It is evening, and thin fleecy clouds flit along the heavens. The gas +sheds a pale light over the streets, and shadowy figures pass and repass +us as we turn into the narrow street leading to the house of the old +hostess. We have reached the great arched door, and stand in the shadow +of a gas-light, playing over its trap, its network of iron, and its +bright, silver plate. We pause and contemplate the massive walls, as the +thought flashes upon us--How mighty is vice, that it has got such a +mansion dedicated to its uses! Even stranger thoughts than these flit +through the mind as we hesitate, and touch the bell timidly. Now, we +have excited your curiosity, and shall not turn until we have shown you +what there is within. + +We hear the bell faintly tinkle--now voices in loud conversation break +upon the ear--then all is silent. Our anxiety increases, and keeps +increasing, until a heavy footstep is heard advancing up the hall. Now +there is a whispering within--then a spring clicks, and a small square +panel opens and is filled with a broad fat face, with deep blue eyes and +a profusion of small brown curls, all framed in a frosty cap-border. It +is the old hostess, done up in her best book muslin, and so well +preserved. + +"Gentlemen, or ain't ye gentlemen?" inquires the old hostess, in a low +voice. "This is a respectable house, I'd have you remember. Gentlemen +what ain't gentlemen don't git no show in this house--no they don't." +She looks curiously at us, and pauses for a reply. The display of a kid +glove and a few assuring words gain us admittance into the great hall, +where a scene of barbaric splendor excites curious emotions. "There +ain't nothin' but gentlemen gets into this house--they don't! and when +they are in they behaves like gentlemen," says the hostess, bowing +gracefully, and closing the door after us. + +The time prints of sixty summers have furrowed the old hostess' brow, +and yet she seems not more than forty--is short of figure, and weighs +two hundred. Soft Persian carpets cover the floor, lounges, in carved +walnut and satin, stand along the sides; marble busts on pedestals, and +full-length figures of statesmen and warriors are interspersed at short +intervals; and the ceiling is frescoed in uncouth and fierce-looking +figures. Flowers hang from niches in the cornice; a marble group, +representing St. George and the dragon, stands at the foot of a broad +circular stairs; tall mirrors reflect and magnify each object, and over +all the gas from three chandeliers sheds a bewitching light. Such is the +gaudy scene that excites the fancy, but leaves our admiration unmoved. + +"This is a castle, and a commonwealth, gentlemen. Cost me a deal of +money; might get ruined if gentlemen forgot how to conduct themselves. +Ladies like me don't get much credit for the good they do. Gentlemen +will be introduced into the parlor when they are ready," says the old +hostess, stepping briskly round us, and watching our every movement; we +are new-comers, and her gaudy tabernacle is novel to us. + +"Have educated a dozen young men to the law, and made gentlemen of a +dozen more, excellent young men--fit for any society. Don't square my +accounts with the world, as the world squares its account with me," she +continues, with that air which vice affects while pleading its own +cause. She cannot shield the war of conscience that is waging in her +heart; but, unlike most of those engaged in her unnatural trade, there +is nothing in her face to indicate a heart naturally inclined to evil. +It is indeed bright with smiles, and you see only the picture of a being +sailing calmly down the smooth sea of peace and contentment. Her dress +is of black glossy satin, a cape of fine point lace covers her broad +shoulders, and bright blue cap-ribbons stream down her back. + +"Listen," says the old hostess--"there's a full house to-night. Both +parlors are full. All people of good society!" she continues, +patronizingly. "Them what likes dancin' dances in the left-hand parlor. +Them what prefers to sit and converse, converses in the right-hand +parlor. Some converses about religion, some converses about +politics--(by way of lettin' you know my position, I may say that I go +for secession, out and out)--some converses about law, some converses +about beauty. There isn't a lady in this house as can't converse on +anything." Madame places her ear to the door, and thrusts her fat +jewelled fingers under her embroidered apron. + +"This is my best parlor, gentlemen," she resumes; "only gentlemen of +deportment are admitted--I might add, them what takes wine, and, if they +does get a little in liquor, never loses their dignity." Madame bows, +and the door of her best parlor swings open, discovering a scene of +still greater splendor. + +"Gentlemen as can't enjoy themselves in my house, don't know how to +enjoy anything. Them is all gentlemen you see, and them is all ladies +you see," says the hostess, as we advance timidly into the room, the air +of which is sickly of perfumes. The foot falls upon the softest of +carpets; quaint shadows, from stained-glass windows are flitting and +dancing on the frescoed ceiling; curtains of finest brocade, enveloped +in lace, fall cloud-like down the windows. The borderings are of +amber-colored satin, and heavy cornices, over which eagles in gilt are +perched, surmount the whole. Pictures no artist need be ashamed of +decorate the walls, groups in bronze and Parian, stand on pedestals +between the windows, and there is a regal air about the furniture, which +is of the most elaborate workmanship. But the living figures moving to +and fro, some in uncouth dresses and some scarce dressed at all, and all +reflected in the great mirrors, excite the deepest interest. Truly it is +here that vice has arrayed itself in fascinating splendors, and the +young and the old have met to pay it tribute. The reckless youth meets +the man high in power here. The grave exchange salutations with the gay. +Here the merchant too often meets his clerk, and the father his son. +And before this promiscuous throng women in bright but scanty drapery, +and wan faces, flaunt their charms. + +Sitting on a sofa, is the fair young girl we saw at the cemetery. By her +side is a man of venerable presence, endeavoring to engage her in +conversation. Her face is shadowed in a pensive smile;--she listens to +what falls from the lips of her companion, shakes her head negatively, +and watches the movements of a slender, fair-haired young man, who +saunters alone on the opposite side of the room. He has a deep interest +in the fair girl, and at every turn casts a look of hate and scorn at +her companion, who is no less a person than Judge Sleepyhorn, of this +history. + +"Hain't no better wine nowhere, than's got in this house," ejaculates +the old hostess, calling our attention to a massive side-board, covered +with cut-glass of various kinds. "A gentleman what's a gentleman may get +a little tipsy, providin' he do it on wine as is kept in this house, and +carry himself square." Madame motions patronizingly with her hand, bows +condescendingly, and says, "Two bottles I think you ordered, +gentlemen--what gentlemen generally call for." + +Having bowed assent, and glad to get off so cheaply, Manfredo, a slave +in bright livery, is directed to bring it in. + +Mr. Snivel enters, to the great delight of the old hostess and various +friends of the house. "Mr. Snivel is the spirit of this house," resumes +the old hostess, by way of introduction; "a gentleman of distinction in +the law." She turns to Mr. Snivel inquiringly. "You sent that ruffin, +Tom Swiggs, up for me to-day?" + +"Lord bless you, yes--gave him two months for contemplation. Get well +starved at fifteen cents a day----" + +"Sorry for the fellow," interrupts the old hostess, sympathizingly. +"That's what comes a drinkin' bad liquor. Tom used to be a first-rate +friend of this house--spent heaps of money, and we all liked him so. +Tried hard to make a man of Tom. Couldn't do it." Madame shakes her head +in sadness. "Devil got into him, somehow. Ran down, as young men will +when they gets in the way. I does my part to save them, God knows." A +tear almost steals into Madame's eyes. "When Tom used to come here, +looking so down, I'd give him a few dollars, and get him to go somewhere +else. Had to keep up the dignity of the house, you know. A man as takes +his liquor as Tom does ain't fit company for my house." + +Mr. Snivel says: "As good advice, which I am bound to give his mother, I +shall say she'd better give him steady lodgings in jail." He turns and +recognizes his friend, the judge, and advances towards him. As he does +so, Anna rises quickly to her feet, and with a look of contempt, +addressing the judge, says, "Never, never. You deceived me once, you +never shall again. You ask me to separate myself from him. No, never, +never." And as she turns to walk away the judge seizes her by the hand, +and retains her. "You must not go yet," he says. + +"She shall go!" exclaims the fair young man, who has been watching their +movements. "Do you know me? I am the George Mulholland you are plotting +to send to the whipping-post,--to accomplish your vile purposes. No, +sir, I am not the man you took me for, as I would show you were it not +for your grey hairs." He releases her from the judge's grasp, and stands +menacing that high old functionary with his finger. "I care not for your +power. Take this girl from me, and you pay the penalty with your life. +We are equals here. Release poor Langdon from prison, and go pay +penance over the grave of his poor wife. It's the least you can do. You +ruined her--you can't deny it." Concluding, he clasps the girl in his +arms, to the surprise of all present, and rushes with her out of the +house. + +The house of Madame Flamingo is in a very distinguished state of +commotion. Men sensitive of their reputations, and fearing the presence +of the police, have mysteriously disappeared. Madame is in a fainting +condition, and several of her heroic damsels have gone screaming out of +the parlor, and have not been seen since. + +Matters have quieted down now. Mr. Snivel consoles the judge for the +loss of dignity he has suffered, Madame did not quite faint, and there +is peace in the house. + +Manfredo, his countenance sullen, brings in the wine. Manfredo is in bad +temper to-night. He uncorks the bottles and lets the wine foam over the +table, the sight of which sends Madame into a state of distress. + +"This is all I gets for putting such good livery on you!" she says, +pushing him aside with great force. "That's thirty-nine for you in the +morning, well-laid on. You may prepare for it. Might have known better +(Madame modifies her voice) than buy a nigger of a clergyman!" She +commences filling the glasses herself, again addressing Manfredo, the +slave: "Don't do no good to indulge you. This is the way you pay me for +lettin' you go to church of a Sunday. Can't give a nigger religion +without his gettin' a big devil in him at the same time." + +Manfredo passes the wine to her guests, in sullen silence, and they +drink to the prosperity of the house. + +And now it is past midnight; the music in the next parlor has ceased, +St. Michael's clock has struck the hour of one, and business is at an +end in the house of the old hostess. A few languid-looking guests still +remain, the old hostess is weary with the fatigues of the night, and +even the gas seems to burn dimmer. The judge and Mr. Snivel are the last +to take their departure, and bid the hostess good-night. "I could not +call the fellow out," says the judge, as they wend their way into King +street. "I can only effect my purpose by getting him into my power. To +do that you must give me your assistance." + +"Remain silent on that point," returns the other. "You have only to +leave its management to me. Nothing is easier than to get such a fellow +into the power of the law." + +On turning into King street they encounter a small, youthful looking +man, hatless and coatless, his figure clearly defined in the shadows of +the gas-light, engaged in a desperate combat with the lamp-post. "Now, +Sir, defend yourself, and do it like a man, for you have the reputation +of being a craven coward," says the man, cutting and thrusting furiously +at the lamp-post; Snivel and Sleepyhorn pause, and look on astonished. +"Truly the poor man's mad," says Sleepyhorn, touching his companion on +the arm--"uncommonly mad for the season." + +Mr. Snivel whispers, "Not so mad. Only courageously tight." "Gentlemen!" +says the man, reproachfully, "I am neither mad nor drunk." Here he +strikes an attitude of defence, cutting one, two, and three with his +small sword. "I am Mister Midshipman Button--no madman, not a bit of it. +As brave a man as South Carolina ever sent into the world. A man of +pluck, Sir, and genuine, at that." Again he turns and makes several +thrusts at the lamp-post, demanding that it surrender and get down on +its knees, in abject obedience to superior prowess. + +"Button, Button, my dear fellow, is it you? What strange freak is this?" +inquires Mr. Snivel, extending his hand, which the little energetic man +refuses to take. + +"Mister Midshipman Button, if you please, gentlemen," replies the man, +with an air of offended dignity. "I'm a gentleman, a man of honor, and +what's more, a Carolinian bred and born, or born and bred--cut it as you +like it." He makes several powerful blows at the lamp-post, and succeeds +only in breaking his sword. + +"Poor man," says the judge, kindly, "he is in need of friends to take +care of him, and advise him properly. He has not far to travel before he +gets into the mad-house." + +The man overhears his remarks, and with a vehement gesture and flourish +of his broken sword, says, "Do you not see, gentlemen, what work I have +made of this Northern aggressor, this huge enemy bringing oppression to +our very doors?" He turns and addresses the lamp-post in a tone of +superiority. "Surrender like a man, and confess yourself vanquished, +Northern aggressor that you are! You see, gentlemen, I have gained a +victory--let all his bowels out. Honor all belongs to my native state--I +shall resign it all to her." Here the man begins to talk in so wild a +strain, and to make so many demands of his imaginary enemy, that they +called a passing guardsman, who, seeing his strange condition, replaced +his hat, and assisted them in getting him to a place of safety for the +night, when sleep and time would restore him to a sound state of mind. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +IN WHICH THE READER IS PRESENTED WITH A VARIED PICTURE. + + +Tom has passed a restless night in jail. He has dreamed of bottled +snakes, with eyes wickedly glaring at him; of fiery-tailed serpents +coiling all over him; of devils in shapes he has no language to +describe; of the waltz of death, in which he danced at the mansion of +Madame Flamingo; and of his mother, (a name ever dear in his thoughts,) +who banished him to this region of vice, for what she esteemed a moral +infirmity. Further on in his dream he saw a vision, a horrible vision, +which was no less than a dispute for his person between Madame Flamingo, +a bishop, and the devil. But Madame Flamingo and the devil, who seemed +to enjoy each other's company exceedingly, got the better of the bishop, +who was scrupulous of his dignity, and not a little anxious about being +seen in such society. And from the horrors of this dream he wakes, +surprised to find himself watched over by a kind friend--a young, +comely-featured man, in whom he recognizes the earnest theologian, as he +is plumed by the prisoners, whom he daily visits in his mission of good. +There was something so frank and gentle in this young man's +demeanor--something so manly and radiant in his countenance--something +so disinterested and holy in his mission of love--something so opposite +to the coldness of the great world without--something so serene and +elevated in his youth, that even the most inveterate criminal awaited +his coming with emotions of joy, and gave a ready ear to his kindly +advice. Indeed, the prisoners called him their child; and he seemed not +dainty of their approach, but took them each by the hand, sat at their +side, addressed them as should one brother address another;--yea, he +made them to feel that what was their interest it was his joy to +promote. + +The young theologian took him a seat close by the side of the dreaming +inebriate; and as he woke convulsively, and turned towards him his +distorted face, viewing with wild stare each object that met his sight, +the young man met his recognition with a smile and a warm grasp of the +hand. "I am sorry you find me here again--yes, I am." + +"Better men, perhaps, have been here--" + +"I am ashamed of it, though; it isn't as it should be, you see," +interrupts Tom. + +"Never mind--(the young man checks himself)--I was going to say there is +a chance for you yet; and there is a chance; and you must struggle; and +I will help you to struggle; and your friends--" + +Tom interrupts by saying, "I've no friends." + +"I will help you to struggle, and to overcome the destroyer. Never think +you are friendless, for then you are a certain victim in the hands of +the ruthless enemy--" + +"Well, well," pauses Tom, casting a half-suspicious look at the young +man, "I forgot. There's you, and him they call old Spunyarn, are +friends, after all. You'll excuse me, but I didn't think of that;" and a +feeling of satisfaction seemed to have come over him. "How grateful to +have friends when a body's in a place of this kind," he mutters +incoherently, as the tears gush from his distended eyes, and childlike +he grasps the hand of the young man. + +"Be comforted with the knowledge that you have friends, Tom. One +all-important thing is wanted, and you are a man again." + +"As to that!" interrupts Tom, doubtingly, and laying his begrimed hand +on his burning forehead, while he alternately frets and frisks his +fingers through his matted hair. + +"Have no doubts, Tom--doubts are dangerous." + +"Well, say what it is, and I'll try what I can do. But you won't think +I'm so bad as I seem, and'll forgive me? I know what you think of me, +and that's what mortifies me; you think I'm an overdone specimen of our +chivalry--you do!" + +"You must banish from your mind these despairing thoughts," replies the +young man, laying his right hand approvingly on Tom's head. "First, +Tom," he pursues, "be to yourself a friend; second, forget the error of +your mother, and forgive her sending you here; and third, cut the house +of Madame Flamingo, in which our chivalry are sure to get a shattering. +To be honest in temptation, Tom, is one of the noblest attributes of our +nature; and to be capable of forming and maintaining a resolution to +shake off the thraldom of vice, and to place oneself in the serener +atmosphere of good society, is equally worthy of the highest +commendation." + +Tom received this in silence, and seemed hesitating between what he +conceived an imperative demand and the natural inclination of his +passions. + +"Give me your hand, and with it your honor--I know you yet retain the +latent spark--and promise me you will lock up the cup--" + +"You'll give a body a furlough, by the way of blowing off the fuddle he +has on hand?" + +"I do not withhold from you any discretionary indulgence that may bring +relief--" + +Tom interrupts by saying, "My mother, you know!" + +"I will see her, and plead with her on your behalf; and if she have a +mother's feelings I can overcome her prejudice." + +Tom says, despondingly, he has no home to go to. It's no use seeing his +mother; she's all dignity, and won't let it up an inch. "If I could only +persuade her--" Tom pauses here and shakes his head. + +"Pledge me your honor you'll from this day form a resolution to reform, +Tom; and if I do not draw from your mother a reconciliation, I will seek +a home for you elsewhere." + +"Well, there can't be much harm in an effort, at all events; and here's +my hand, in sincerity. But it won't do to shut down until I get over +this bit of a fog I'm now in." With childlike simplicity, Tom gives his +hand to the young man, who, as old Spunyarn enters the cell to, as he +says, get the latitude of his friend's nerves, departs in search of Mrs. +Swiggs. + +Mrs. Swiggs is the stately old member of a crispy old family, that, like +numerous other families in the State, seem to have outlived two +chivalrous generations, fed upon aristocracy, and are dying out +contemplating their own greatness. Indeed, the Swiggs family, while it +lived and enjoyed the glory of its name, was very like the Barnwell +family of this day, who, one by one, die off with the very pardonable +and very harmless belief that the world never can get along without the +aid of South Carolina, it being the parthenon from which the outside +world gets all its greatness. Her leading and very warlike newspapers, +(the people of these United States ought to know, if they do not +already,) it was true, were editorialized, as it was politely called in +the little State-militant, by a species of unreputationized Jew and +Yankee; but this you should know--if you do not already, gentle +reader--that it is only because such employments are regarded by the +lofty-minded chivalry as of too vulgar a nature to claim a place in +their attention. + +The clock of old Saint Michaels, a clock so tenacious of its dignity as +to go only when it pleases, and so aristocratic in its habits as not to +go at all in rainy weather;--a clock held in great esteem by the "very +first families," has just struck eleven. The young, pale-faced +missionary inquiringly hesitates before a small, two-story building of +wood, located on the upper side of Church street, and so crabbed in +appearance that you might, without endangering your reputation, have +sworn it had incorporated in its framework a portion of that chronic +disease for which the State has gained for itself an unenviable +reputation. Jutting out of the black, moss-vegetating roof, is an +old-maidish looking window, with a dowdy white curtain spitefully tucked +up at the side. The mischievous young negroes have pecked half the +bricks out of the foundation, and with them made curious grottoes on the +pavement. Disordered and unpainted clapboards spread over the dingy +front, which is set off with two upper and two lower windows, all +blockaded with infirm, green shutters. Then there is a snuffy door, +high and narrow (like the State's notions), and reached by six venerable +steps and a stoop, carefully guarded with a pine hand-rail, fashionably +painted in blue, and looking as dainty as the State's white glove. This, +reader, is the abode of the testy but extremely dignified Mrs. Swiggs. +If you would know how much dignity can be crowded into the smallest +space, you have only to look in here and be told (she closely patterns +after the State in all things!) that fifty-five summers of her crispy +life have been spent here, reading Milton's Paradise Lost and +contemplating the greatness of her departed family. + +The old steps creak and complain as the young man ascends them, holding +nervously on at the blue hand-rail, and reaching in due time the stoop, +the strength of which he successively tests with his right foot, and +stands contemplating the snuffy door. A knocker painted in villanous +green--a lion-headed knocker, of grave deportment, looking as savage as +lion can well do in this chivalrous atmosphere, looks admonitiously at +him. "Well!" he sighs as he raises it, "there's no knowing what sort of +a reception I may get." He has raised the monster's head and given three +gentle taps. Suddenly a frisking and whispering, shutting of doors and +tripping of feet, is heard within; and after a lapse of several minutes +the door swings carefully open, and the dilapidated figure of an old +negro woman, lean, shrunken, and black as Egyptian darkness--with +serious face and hanging lip, the picture of piety and starvation, +gruffly asks who he is and what he wants? + +Having requested an interview with her mistress, this decrepit specimen +of human infirmity half closes the door against him and doddles back. A +slight whispering, and Mrs. Swiggs is heard to say--"show him into the +best parlor." And into the best parlor, and into the august presence of +Mrs. Swiggs is he ushered. The best parlor is a little, dingy room, low +of ceiling, and skirted with a sombre-colored surbase, above which is +papering, the original color of which it would be difficult to discover. +A listen carpet, much faded and patched, spreads over the floor, the +walls are hung with several small engravings, much valued for their age +and associations, but so crooked as to give one the idea of the house +having withstood a storm at sea; and the furniture is made up of a few +venerable mahogany chairs, a small side-table, on which stands, much +disordered, several well-worn books and papers, two patch-covered +foot-stools, a straight-backed rocking-chair, in which the august woman +rocks her straighter self, and a great tin cage, from between the bars +of which an intelligent parrot chatters--"my lady, my lady, my lady!" +There is a cavernous air about the place, which gives out a sickly odor, +exciting the suggestion that it might at some time have served as a +receptacle for those second-hand coffins the State buries its poor in. + +"Well! who are you? And what do you want? You have brought letters, I +s'pose?" a sharp, squeaking voice, speaks rapidly. + +The young man, without waiting for an invitation to sit down, takes +nervously a seat at the side-table, saying he has come on a mission of +love. + +"Love! love! eh? Young man--know that you have got into the wrong +house!" Mrs. Swiggs shakes her head, squeaking out with great animation. + +There she sits, Milton's "Paradise Lost" in her witch-like fingers, +herself lean enough for the leanest of witches, and seeming to have +either shrunk away from the faded black silk dress in which she is clad, +or passed through half a century of starvation merely to bolster up her +dignity. A sharp, hatchet-face, sallow and corrugated; two wicked gray +eyes, set deep in bony sockets; a long, irregular nose, midway of which +is adjusted a pair of broad, brass-framed spectacles; a sunken, +purse-drawn mouth, with two discolored teeth protruding from her upper +lip; a high, narrow forehead, resembling somewhat crumpled parchment; a +dash of dry, brown hair relieving the ponderous border of her +steeple-crowned cap, which she seems to have thrown on her head in a +hurry; a moth-eaten, red shawl thrown spitefully over her shoulders, +disclosing a sinewy and sassafras-colored neck above, and the small end +of a gold chain in front, and, reader, you have the august Mrs. Swiggs, +looking as if she diets on chivalry and sour krout. She is indeed a nice +embodiment of several of those qualities which the State clings +tenaciously to, and calls its own, for she lives on the labor of eleven +aged negroes, five of whom are cripples. + +The young man smiles, as Mrs. Swiggs increases the velocity of her +rocking, lays her right hand on the table, rests her left on her Milton, +and continues to reiterate that he has got into the wrong house. + +"I have no letter, Madam--" + +"I never receive people without letters--never!" again she interrupts, +testily. + +"But you see, Madam--" + +"No I don't. I don't see anything about it!" again she interposes, +adjusting her spectacles, and scanning him anxiously from head to foot. +"Ah, yes (she twitches her head), I see what you are--" + +"I was going to say, if you please, Madam, that my mission may serve as +a passport--" + +"I'm of a good family, you must know, young man. You could have learned +that of anybody before seeking this sort of an introduction. Any of our +first families could have told you about me. You must go your way, young +man!" And she twitches her head, and pulls closer about her lean +shoulders the old red shawl. + +"I (if you will permit me, Madam) am not ignorant of the very high +standing of your famous family--" Madam interposes by saying, every +muscle of her frigid face unmoved the while, she is glad he knows +something, "having read of them in a celebrated work by one of our more +celebrated genealogists--" + +"But you should have brought a letter from the Bishop! and upon that +based your claims to a favorable reception. Then you have read of Sir +Sunderland Swiggs, my ancestor? Ah! he was such a Baron, and owned such +estates in the days of Elizabeth. But you should have brought a letter, +young man." Mrs. Swiggs replies rapidly, alternately raising and +lowering her squeaking voice, twitching her head, and grasping tighter +her Milton. + +"Those are his arms and crest." She points with her Milton to a singular +hieroglyphic, in a wiry black frame, resting on the marble-painted +mantelpiece. "He was very distinguished in his time; and such an +excellent Christian." She shakes her head and wipes the tears from her +spectacles, as her face, which had before seemed carved in wormwood, +slightly relaxes the hardness of its muscles. + +"I remember having seen favorable mention of Sir Sunderland's name in +the book I refer to--" + +She again interposes. The young man watches her emotions with a +penetrating eye, conscious that he has touched a chord in which all the +milk of kindness is not dried up. + +"It's a true copy of the family arms. Everybody has got to having arms +now-a-days. (She points to the indescribable scrawl over the +mantelpiece.) It was got through Herald King, of London, who they say +keeps her Majesty's slippers and the great seal of State. We were very +exact, you see. Yes, sir--we were very exact. Our vulgar people, you +see--I mean such as have got up by trade, and that sort of thing--went +to a vast expense in sending to England a man of great learning and much +aforethought, to ransack heraldry court and trace out their families. +Well, he went, lived very expensively, spent several years abroad, and +being very clever in his way, returned, bringing them all pedigrees of +the very best kind. With only two exceptions, he traced them all down +into noble blood. These two, the cunning fellow had it, came of martyrs. +And to have come of the blood of martyrs, when all the others, as was +shown, came of noble blood, so displeased--the most ingenious (the old +lady shakes her head regrettingly) can't please everybody--the living +members of these families, that they refused to pay the poor man for his +researches, so he was forced to resort to a suit at law. And to this day +(I don't say it disparagingly of them!) both families stubbornly refuse +to accept the pedigree. They are both rich grocers, you see! and on this +account we were very particular about ours." + +The young man thought it well not to interrupt the old woman's display +of weakness, inasmuch as it might produce a favorable change in her +feelings. + +"And now, young man, what mission have you besides love?" she inquires, +adding an encouraging look through her spectacles. + +"I am come to intercede--" + +"You needn't talk of interceding with me; no you needn't! I've nothing +to intercede about"--she twitches her head spitefully. + +"In behalf of your son." + +"There--there! I knew there was some mischief. You're a Catholic! I knew +it. Never saw one of your black-coated flock about that there wasn't +mischief brewing--never! I can't read my Milton in peace for you--" + +"But your son is in prison, Madam, among criminals, and subject to the +influence of their habits--" + +"Precisely where I put him--where he won't disgrace the family; yes, +where he ought to be, and where he shall rot, for all me. Now, go your +way, young man; and read your Bible at home, and keep out of prisons; +and don't be trying to make Jesuits of hardened scamps like that Tom of +mine." + +"I am a Christian: I would like to extend a Christian's hand to your +son. I may replace him on the holy pedestal he has fallen from--" + +"You are very aggravating, young man. Do you live in South Carolina?" + +The young man says he does. He is proud of the State that can boast so +many excellent families. + +"I am glad of that," she says, looking querulously over her spectacles, +as she twitches her chin, and increases the velocity of her rocking. "I +wonder how folks can live out of it." + +"As to that, Madam, permit me to say, I am happy to see and appreciate +your patriotism; but if you will grant me an order of release--" + +"I won't hear a word now! You're very aggravating, young man--very! He +has disgraced the family; I have put him where he is seven times; he +shall rot were he is! He never shall disgrace the family again. Think of +Sir Sunderland Swiggs, and then think of him, and see what a pretty +level the family has come to! That's the place for him, I have told him +a dozen times how I wished him gone. The quicker he is out of the way, +the better for the name of the family." + +The young man waits the end of this colloquy with a smile on his +countenance. "I have no doubt I can work your son's reform--perhaps make +him an honor to the family--" + +"He honor the family!" she interrupts, twitches the shawl about her +shoulders, and permits herself to get into a state of general +excitement. "I should like to see one who has disgraced the family as +much as he has think of honoring it--" + +"Through kindness and forbearance, Madam, a great deal may be done," the +young man replies. + +"Now, you are very provoking, young man--very. Let other people alone; +go your way home, and study your Bible." And with this the old lady +calls Rebecca, the decrepit slave who opened the door, and directs her +to show the young man out. "There now!" she says testily, turning to the +marked page of her Milton. + +The young man contemplates her for a few moments, but, having no +alternative, leaves reluctantly. + +On reaching the stoop he encounters the tall, handsome figure of a man, +whose face is radiant with smiles, and his features ornamented with +neatly-combed Saxon hair and beard, and who taps the old negress under +the chin playfully, as she says, "Missus will be right glad to see you, +Mr. Snivel--that she will." And he bustles his way laughing into the +presence of the old lady, as if he had news of great importance for +her. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +A FEW REFLECTIONS ON THE CURE OF VICE. + + +Disappointed, and not a little chagrined, at the failure of his mission, +the young man muses over the next best course to pursue. He has the +inebriate's welfare at heart; he knows there is no state of degradation +so low that the victim cannot, under proper care, be reclaimed from it; +and he feels duty calling loudly to him not to stand trembling on the +brink, but to enter the abode of the victim, and struggle to make clean +the polluted. Vice, he says to himself, is not entailed in the heart; +and if you would modify and correct the feelings inclined to evil, you +must first feed the body, then stimulate the ambition; and when you have +got the ambition right, seek a knowledge of the heart, and apply to it +those mild and judicious remedies which soften its action, and give life +to new thoughts and a higher state of existence. Once create the vine of +moral rectitude, and its branches will soon get where they can take care +of themselves. But to give the vine creation in poor soil, your watching +must exhibit forbearance, and your care a delicate hand. The +stubbornly-inclined nature, when coupled with ignorance, is that in +which vice takes deepest root, as it is, when educated, that against +which vice is least effectual. To think of changing the natural +inclination of such natures with punishment, or harsh correctives, is as +useless as would be an attempt to stop the ebbing and flowing of the +tide. You must nurture the feelings, he thought, create a +susceptibility, get the heart right, by holding out the value of a +better state of things, and make the head to feel that you are sincere +in your work of love; and, above all, you must not forget the stomach, +for if that go empty crime will surely creep into the head. You cannot +correct moral infirmity by confining the victim of it among criminals, +for no greater punishment can be inflicted on the feelings of man; and +punishment destroys rather than encourages the latent susceptibility of +our better nature. In nine cases out of ten, improper punishment makes +the hardened criminals with which your prisons are filled, destroying +forever that spark of ambition which might have been fostered into a +means to higher ends. + +And as the young man thus muses, there recurs to his mind the picture of +old Absalom McArthur, a curious old man, but excessively kind, and +always ready to do "a bit of a good turn for one in need," as he would +say when a needy friend sought his assistance. McArthur is a dealer in +curiosities, is a venerable curiosity himself, and has always something +on hand to meet the wants of a community much given to antiquity and +broken reputations. + +The young theologian will seek this good old man. He feels that time +will work a favorable revolution in the feelings of Tom's mother; and to +be prepared for that happy event he will plead a shelter for him under +McArthur's roof. + +And now, generous reader, we will, with your permission, permit him to +go on his errand of mercy, while we go back and see how Tom prospers at +the old prison. You, we well know, have not much love of prisons. But +unless we do now and then enter them, our conceptions of how much misery +man can inflict upon man will be small indeed. + +The man of sailor-like deportment, and whom the prisoners salute with +the sobriquet of "Old Spunyarn," entered, you will please remember, the +cell, as the young theologian left in search of Mrs. Swiggs, "I thought +I'd just haul my tacks aboard, run up a bit, and see what sort of +weather you were making, Tom," says he, touching clumsily his +small-brimmed, plait hat, as he recognizes the young man, whom he +salutes in that style so frank and characteristic of the craft. "He's a +bit better, sir--isn't he?" inquires Spunyarn, his broad, honest face, +well browned and whiskered, warming with a glow of satisfaction. + +Receiving an answer in the affirmative, he replies he is right glad of +it, not liking to see a shipmate in a drift. And he gives his quid a +lurch aside, throws his hat carelessly upon the floor, shrugs his +shoulders, and as he styles it, nimbly brings himself to a mooring, at +Tom's side. "It's a hard comforter, this state. I don't begrudge your +mother the satisfaction she gets of sending you here. In her eyes, ye +see, yeer fit only to make fees out on, for them ar lawyer chaps. They'd +keep puttin' a body in an' out here during his natural life, just for +the sake of gettin', the fees. They don't care for such things as you +and I. We hain't no rights; and if we had, why we hain't no power. This +carry in' too much head sail, Tom, won't do--'twon't!" Spunyarn shakes +his head reprovingly, fusses over Tom, turns him over on his wales, as +he has it, and finally gets him on his beam's ends, a besotted wreck +unable to carry his canvas. "Lost yeer reckoning eh, Tom?" he continues +as that bewildered individual stares vacantly at him. The inebriate +contorts painfully his face, presses and presses his hands to his +burning forehead, and says they are firing a salute in his head, using +his brains for ammunition. + +"Well, now Tom, seein' as how I'm a friend of yourn--" + +"Friend of mine?" interrupts Tom, shaking his head, and peering through +his fingers mistrustfully. + +"And this is a hard lee shore you've beached upon; I'll lend ye a hand +to get in the head sail, and get the craft trimmed up a little. A dash +of the same brine will help keep the ballast right, then a skysail-yard +breakfast must be carefully stowed away, in order to give a firmness to +the timbers, and on the strength of these two blocks for shoring up the +hull, you must begin little by little, and keep on brightening up until +you have got the craft all right again. And when you have got her right +you must keep her right. I say, Tom!--it won't do. You must reef down, +or the devil'll seize the helm in one of these blows, and run you into a +port too warm for pea-jackets." For a moment, Spunyarn seems half +inclined to grasp Tom by his collarless coat and shake the hydrophobia, +as he calls it, out of him; then, as if incited by a second thought, he +draws from his shirt-bosom a large, wooden comb, and humming a tune +commences combing and fussing over Tom's hair, which stands erect over +his head like marlinspikes. At length he gets a craft-like set upon his +foretop, and turning his head first to the right, then to the left, as a +child does a doll, he views him with an air of exultation. "I tell you +what it is, Tom," he continues, relieving him of the old coat, "the +bright begins to come! There's three points of weather made already." + +"God bless you, Spunyarn," replies Tom, evidently touched by the +frankness and generosity of the old sailor. Indeed there was something +so whole-hearted about old Spunyarn, that he was held in universal +esteem by every one in jail, with the single exception of Milman Mingle, +the vote-cribber. + +"Just think of yourself, Tom--don't mind me," pursues the sailor as Tom +squeezes firmly his hand. "You've had a hard enough time of it--" Tom +interrupts by saying, as he lays his hands upon his sides, he is sore +from head to foot. + +"Don't wonder," returns the sailor. "It's a great State, this South +Carolina. It seems swarming with poor and powerless folks. Everybody has +power to put everybody in jail, where the State gives a body two +dog's-hair and rope-yarn blankets to lay upon, and grants the sheriff, +Mr. Hardscrable, full license to starve us, and put the thirty cents a +day it provides for our living into his breeches pockets. Say what you +will about it, old fellow, it's a brief way of doing a little profit in +the business of starvation. I don't say this with any ill-will to the +State that regards its powerless and destitute with such criminal +contempt--I don't." And he brings water, gets Tom upon his feet, forces +him into a clean shirt, and regards him in the light of a child whose +reformation he is determined on perfecting. He sees that in the fallen +man which implies a hope of ultimate usefulness, notwithstanding the +sullen silence, the gloomy frown on his knitted brow, and the general +air of despair that pervades the external man. + +"There!" he exclaims, having improved the personal of the inebriate, and +folding his arms as he steps back apace to have a better view of his +pupil--"now, don't think of being triced up in this dreary vault. Be +cheerful, brace up your resolution--never let the devil think you know +he is trying to put the last seal on your fate--never!" Having slipped +the black kerchief from his own neck, he secures it about Tom's, adjusts +the shark's bone at the throat, and mounts the braid hat upon his head +with a hearty blow on the crown. "Look at yourself! They'd mistake you +for a captain of the foretop," he pursues, and good-naturedly he lays +his broad, browned hands upon Tom's shoulders, and forces him up to a +triangular bit of glass secured with three tacks to the wall. + +Tom's hands wander down his sides as he contemplates himself in the +glass, saying: "I look a shade up, I reckon! And I feel--I have to thank +you for it, Spunyarn--something different all over me. God bless you! I +won't forget you. But I'm hungry; that's all that ails me now. + +"I may thank my mother--" + +"Thank yourself, Tom," interposes the sailor. + +"For all this. She has driven me to this; yes, she has made my soul dead +with despair!" And he bursts into a wild, fierce laugh. A moment's +pause, and he says, in a subdued voice, "I'm a slave, a fool, a wanderer +in search of his own distress." + +The kind-hearted sailor seats his pupil upon a board bench, and proceeds +down stairs, where, with the bribe of a glass of whiskey, he induces the +negro cook to prepare for Tom a bowl of coffee and a biscuit. In truth, +we must confess, that Spunyarn was so exceedingly liberal of his +friendship that he would at times appropriate to himself the personal +effects of his neighbors. But we must do him justice by saying that this +was only when a friend in need claimed his attention. And this generous +propensity he the more frequently exercised upon the effects--whiskey, +cold ham, crackers and cheese--of the vote-cribber, whom he regards as a +sort of cold-hearted land-lubber, whose political friends outside were +not what they should be. If the vote-cribber's aristocratic friends (and +South Carolina politicians were much given to dignity and bad whiskey) +sent him luxuries that tantalized the appetites of poverty-oppressed +debtors, and poor prisoners starving on a pound of bread a-day, Spunyarn +held this a legitimate plea for holding in utter contempt the right to +such gifts. And what was more singular of this man was, that he always +knew the latitude and longitude of the vote-cribber's bottle, and what +amount of water was necessary to keep up the gauge he had reduced in +supplying his flask. + +And now that Tom's almost hopeless condition presents a warrantable +excuse, (the vote-cribber has this moment passed into the cell to take a +cursory glance at Tom,) Spunyarn slips nimbly into the vote-cribber's +cell, withdraws a brick from the old chimney, and seizing the black neck +of a blacker bottle, drags it forth, holds it in the shadow of the +doorway, squints exultingly at the contents, shrugs his stalwart +shoulders, and empties a third of the liquid, which he replaces with +water from a bucket near by, into his tin-topped flask. This done, he +ingeniously replaces the bottle, slides the flask suspiciously into his +bosom, saying, "It'll taste just as strong to a vote-cribber," and seeks +that greasy potentate, the prison cook. This dignitary has always laid +something aside for Spunyarn; he knows Spunyarn has something laid aside +for him, which makes the condition mutual. + +"A new loafer let loose on the world!" says the vote-cribber, entering +the domain of the inebriate with a look of fierce scorn. "The State is +pestered to death with such things as you. What do they send you here +for?--disturbing the quiet and respectability of the prison! You're only +fit to enrich the bone-yard--hardly that; perhaps only for lawyers to +get fees of. The State'll starve you, old Hardscrabble'll make a few +dollars out of your feed--but what of that? We don't want you here." +There was something so sullen and mysterious in the coarse features of +this stalwart man--something so revolting in his profession, though it +was esteemed necessary to the elevation of men seeking political +popularity--something so at variance with common sense in the punishment +meted out to him who followed it, as to create a deep interest in his +history, notwithstanding his coldness towards the inebriate. And yet you +sought in vain for one congenial or redeeming trait in the character of +this man. + +"I always find you here; you're a fixture, I take it--" + +The vote-cribber interrupts the inebriate--"Better have said a patriot!" + +"Well," returns the inebriate, "a patriot then; have it as you like it. +I'm not over-sensitive of the distinction." The fallen man drops his +head into his hands, stabbed with remorse, while the vote-cribber folds +his brawny arms leisurely, paces to and fro before him, and scans him +with his keen, gray eyes, after the manner of one mutely contemplating +an imprisoned animal. + +"You need not give yourself so much concern about me--" + +"I was only thinking over in my head what a good subject to crib, a week +or two before fall election, you'd be. You've a vote?" + +Tom good-naturedly says he has. He always throws it for the "old +Charleston" party, being sure of a release, as are some dozen caged +birds, just before election. + +"I have declared eternal hatred against that party; never pays its +cribbers!" Mingle scornfully retorts; and having lighted his pipe, +continues his pacing. "As for this jail," he mutters to himself, "I've +no great respect for it; but there is a wide difference between a man +who they put in here for sinning against himself, and one who only +violates a law of the State, passed in opposition to popular opinion. +However, you seem brightened up a few pegs, and, only let whiskey alone, +you may be something yet. Keep up an acquaintance with the pump, and be +civil to respectable prisoners, that's all." + +This admonition of the vote-cribber had a deeper effect on the feelings +of the inebriate than was indicated by his outward manner. He had +committed no crime, and yet he found himself among criminals of every +kind; and what was worse, they affected to look down upon him. Had he +reached a state of degradation so low that even the felon loathed his +presence? Was he an outcast, stripped of every means of reform--of +making himself a man? Oh no! The knife of the destroyer had plunged +deep--disappointment had tortured his brain--he was drawn deeper into +the pool of misery by the fatal fascinations of the house of Madame +Flamingo, where, shunned by society, he had sought relief--but there was +yet one spark of pride lingering in his heart. That spark the +vote-cribber had touched; and with that spark Tom resolved to kindle for +himself a new existence. He had pledged his honor to the young +theologian; he would not violate it. + +The old sailor, with elated feelings, and bearing in his hands a bowl of +coffee and two slices of toasted bread, is accosted by several +suspicious-looking prisoners, who have assembled in the corridor for the +purpose of scenting fresh air, with sundry questions concerning the +state of his pupil's health. + +"He has had a rough night," the sailor answers, "but is now a bit calm. +In truth, he only wants a bit of good steering to get him into smooth +weather again." Thus satisfying the inquirers, he hurries up stairs as +the vote-cribber hurries down, and setting his offering on the +window-sill, draws from his bosom the concealed flask. "There, Tom!" he +says, with childlike satisfaction, holding the flask before him--"only +two pulls. To-morrow reef down to one; and the day after swear a +dissolution of copartnership, for this chap (he points to the whiskey) +is too mighty for you." + +Tom hesitates, as if questioning the quality of the drug he is about to +administer. + +"Only two!" interrupts the sailor. "It will reduce the ground-swell a +bit." The outcast places the flask to his lips, and having drank with +contorted face passes it back with a sigh, and extends his right hand. +"My honor is nothing to the world, Spunyarn, but it is yet something to +me; and by it I swear (here he grasps tighter the hand of the old +sailor, as a tear moistens his suffused cheeks) never to touch the +poison again. It has grappled me like a fierce animal I could not shake +off; it has made me the scoffed of felons--I will cease to be its +victim; and having gained the victory, be hereafter a friend to myself." + +"God bless you--may you never want a friend, Tom--and may He give you +strength to keep the resolution. That's my wish." And the old sailor +shook Tom's hand fervently, in pledge of his sincerity. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +IN WHICH MR. SNIVEL, COMMONLY CALLED THE ACCOMMODATION MAN, IS +INTRODUCED, AND WHAT TAKES PLACE BETWEEN HIM AND MRS. SWIGGS. + + +Reader! have you ever witnessed how cleverly one of our mob-politicians +can, through the all-soothing medium of a mint-julep, transpose himself +from a mass of passion and bad English into a child of perfect +equanimity? If not, perhaps you have witnessed in our halls of Congress +the sudden transition through which some of our Carolina members pass +from a state of stupidity to a state of pugnacity? (We refer only to +those members who do their own "stumping," and as a natural consequence, +get into Congress through abuse of the North, bad whiskey, and a +profusion of promises to dissolve the Union.) And if you have, you may +form some idea of the suddenness with which Lady Swiggs, as she delights +in having her friends call her, transposes herself from the incarnation +of a viper into a creature of gentleness, on hearing announced the name +of Mr. Soloman Snivel. + +"What!--my old friend! I wish I had words to say how glad I am to see +you, Lady Swiggs!" exclaims a tall, well-proportioned and +handsome-limbed man, to whose figure a fashionable claret-colored frock +coat, white vest, neatly-fitting dark-brown trowsers, highly-polished +boots, a cluster of diamonds set in an avalanche of corded shirt-bosom, +and carelessly-tied green cravat, lend a respectability better imagined +than described. A certain reckless dash about him, not common to a +refined gentleman, forces us to set him down as one of those individuals +who hold an uncertain position in society; and though they may now and +then mingle with men of refinement, have their more legitimate sphere in +a fashionable world of doubtful character. + +"Why!--Mr. Snivel. Is it you?" responds the old woman, reciprocating his +warm shake of the hand, and getting her hard face into a smile. + +"I am so glad--But (Mr. Snivel interrupts himself) never mind that!" + +"You have some important news?" hastily inquires Mrs. Swiggs, laying a +bit of muslin carefully between the pages of her Milton, and returning +it to the table, saying she has just been grievously provoked by one of +that black-coated flock who go about the city in search of lambs. They +always remind her of light-houses pointing the road to the dominions of +the gentleman in black. + +"Something very important!" parenthesises Soloman--"very." And he shakes +his head, touches her significantly on the arm with his orange-colored +glove,--he smiles insidiously. + +"Pray be seated, Mr. Snivel. Rebecca!--bring Mr. Snivel the +rocking-chair." + +"You see, my good Madam, there's such a rumor about town this morning! +(Soloman again taps her on the arm with his glove.) The cat has got out +of the bag--it's all up with the St. Cecilia!--" + +"Do, Rebecca, make haste with the rocking-chair!" eagerly interrupts +the old woman, addressing herself to the negress, who fusses her way +into the room with a great old-fashioned rocking-chair. "I am so +sensitive of the character of that society," she continues with a sigh, +and wipes and rubs her spectacles, gets up and views herself in the +glass, frills over her cap border, and becomes very generally anxious. +Mrs. Swiggs is herself again. She nervously adjusts the venerable red +shawl about her shoulders, draws the newly-introduced arm-chair near her +own, ("I'm not so old, but am getting a little deaf," she says), and +begs her visitor will be seated. + +Mr. Soloman, having paced twice or thrice up and down the little room, +contemplating himself in the glass at each turn, now touching his +neatly-trimmed Saxon mustache and whiskers, then frisking his fingers +through his candy-colored hair, brings his dignity into the chair. + +"I said it was all up with the St. Cecilia--" + +"Yes!" interrupts Mrs. Swiggs, her eyes glistening like balls of fire, +her lower jaw falling with the weight of anxiety, and fretting rapidly +her bony hands. + +Soloman suddenly pauses, says that was a glorious bottle of old Madeira +with which he enjoyed her hospitality on his last visit. The flavor of +it is yet fresh in his mouth. + +"Thank you--thank you! Mr. Soloman. I've a few more left. But pray lose +no time in disclosing to me what hath befallen the St. Cecilia." + +"Well then--but what I say must be in confidence. (The old woman says it +never shall get beyond her lips--never!) An Englishman of goodly looks, +fashion, and money--and, what is more in favor with our first families, +a Sir attached to his name, being of handsome person and accomplished +manners, and travelling and living after the manner of a nobleman, (some +of our first families are simple enough to identify a Baronet with +nobility!) was foully set upon by the fairest and most marriageable +belles of the St. Cecilia. If he had possessed a dozen hearts, he could +have had good markets for them all. There was such a getting up of +attentions! Our fashionable mothers did their very best in arraying the +many accomplishments of their consignable daughters, setting forth in +the most foreign but not over-refined phraseology, their extensive +travels abroad--" + +"Yes!" interrupts Mrs. Swiggs, nervously--"I know how they do it. It's a +pardonable weakness." And she reaches out her hand and takes to her lap +her inseparable Milton. + +"And the many marked attentions--offers, in fact--they have received at +the hands of Counts and Earls, with names so unpronounceable that they +have outlived memory--" + +"Perhaps I have them in my book of autographs!" interrupts the credulous +old woman, making an effort to rise and proceed to an antique side-board +covered with grotesque-looking papers. + +Mr. Soloman urbanely touches her on the arm--begs she will keep her +seat. The names only apply to things of the past. He proceeds, +"Well--being a dashing fellow, as I have said--he played his game +charmingly. Now he flirted with this one, and then with that one, and +finally with the whole society, not excepting the very flirtable married +ladies;--that is, I mean those whose husbands were simple enough to let +him. Mothers were in a great flutter generally, and not a day passed but +there was a dispute as to which of their daughters he would link his +fortunes with and raise to that state so desirable in the eyes of our +very republican first families--the State-Militant of nobility--" + +"I think none the worse of 'em for that," says the old woman, twitching +her wizard-like head in confirmation of her assertion. "My word for it, +Mr. Soloman, to get up in the world, and to be above the common herd, is +the grand ambition of our people; and our State has got the grand +position it now holds before the world through the influence of this +ambition." + +"True!--you are right there, my dear friend. You may remember, I have +always said you had the penetration of a statesman, (Mrs. Swiggs makes a +curt bow, as a great gray cat springs into her lap and curls himself +down on her Milton;) and, as I was going on to say of this dashing +Baronet, he played our damsels about in agony, as an old sportsman does +a covey of ducks, wounding more in the head than in the heart, and +finally creating no end of a demand for matrimony. To-day, all the town +was positive, he would marry the beautiful Miss Boggs; to-morrow it was +not so certain that he would not marry the brilliant and +all-accomplished Miss Noggs; and the next day he was certain of marrying +the talented and very wealthy heiress, Miss Robbs. Mrs. Stepfast, highly +esteemed in fashionable society, and the very best gossip-monger in the +city, had confidentially spread it all over the neighborhood that Mr. +Stepfast told her the young Baronet told him (and he verily believed he +was head and ears in love with her!) Miss Robbs was the most lovely +creature he had seen since he left Belgravia. And then he went into a +perfect rhapsody of excitement while praising the poetry of her motion, +the grace with which she performed the smallest offices of the +drawing-room, her queenly figure, her round, alabaster arms, her smooth, +tapering hands, (so chastely set off with two small diamonds, and so +unlike the butchers' wives of this day, who bedazzle themselves all the +day long with cheap jewelry,)--the beautiful swell of her marble bust, +the sweet smile ever playing over her thoughtful face, the regularity of +her Grecian features, and those great, languishing eyes, constantly +flashing with the light of irresistible love. Quoth ye! according to +what Mr. Stepfast told Mrs. Stepfast, the young Baronet would, with the +ideal of a real poet, as was he, have gone on recounting her charms +until sundown, had not Mr. Stepfast invited him to a quiet family +dinner. And to confirm what Mr. Stepfast said, Miss Robbs had been seen +by Mrs. Windspin looking in at Mrs. Stebbins', the fashionable +dress-maker, while the young Baronet had twice been at Spears', in King +Street, to select a diamond necklace of great value, which he left +subject to the taste of Miss Robbs. And putting them two and them two +together there was something in it!" + +"I am truly glad it's nothing worse. There has been so much scandal got +up by vulgar people against our St. Cecilia." + +"Worse, Madam?" interpolates our hero, ere she has time to conclude her +sentence, "the worst is to come yet." + +"And I'm a member of the society!" Mrs. Swiggs replies with a +languishing sigh, mistaking the head of the cat for her Milton, and +apologizing for her error as that venerable animal, having got well +squeezed, sputters and springs from her grasp, shaking his head, +"elected solely on the respectability of my family." + +Rather a collapsed member, by the way, Mr. Soloman thinks, contemplating +her facetiously. + +"Kindly proceed--proceed," she says, twitching at her cap strings, as if +impatient to get the sequel. + +"Well, as to that, being a member of the St. Cecilia myself, you see, +and always--(I go in for a man keeping up in the world)--maintaining a +high position among its most distinguished members, who, I assure you, +respect me far above my real merits, (Mrs. Swiggs says we won't say +anything about that now!) and honor me with all its secrets, I may, even +in your presence, be permitted to say, that I never heard a member who +didn't speak in high praise of you and the family of which you are so +excellent a representative." + +"Thank you--thank you. O thank you, Mr. Soloman!" she rejoins. + +"Why, Madam, I feel all my veneration getting into my head at once when +I refer to the name of Sir Sunderland Swiggs." + +"But pray what came of the young Baronet?" + +"Oh!--as to him, why, you see, he was what we call--it isn't a polite +word, I confess--a humbug." + +"A Baronet a humbug!" she exclaims, fretting her hands and commencing to +rock herself in the chair. + +"Well, as to that, as I was going on to say, after he had beat the bush +all around among the young birds, leaving several of them wounded on the +ground--you understand this sort of thing--he took to the older ones, +and set them polishing up their feathers. And having set several very +respectable families by the ears, and created a terrible flutter among a +number of married dames--he was an adept in this sort of diplomacy, you +see--it was discovered that one very distinguished Mrs. Constance, +leader of fashion to the St. Cecilia, (and on that account on no very +good terms with the vulgar world, that was forever getting up scandal to +hurl at the society that would not permit it to soil, with its common +muslin, the fragrant atmosphere of its satin and tulle), had been +carrying on a villanous intrigue--yes, Madam! villanous intrigue! I said +discovered: the fact was, this gallant Baronet, with one servant and no +establishment, was feted and fooled for a month, until he came to the +very natural and sensible conclusion, that we were all snobbs--yes, +snobbs of the very worst kind. But there was no one who fawned over and +flattered the vanity of this vain man more than the husband of Mrs. +Constance. This poor man idolized his wife, whom he regarded as the very +diamond light of purity, nor ever mistrusted that the Baronet's +attentions were bestowed with any other than the best of motives. +Indeed, he held it extremely condescending on the part of the Baronet to +thus honor the family with his presence. + +"And the Baronet, you see, with that folly so characteristic of +Baronets, was so flushed with his success in this little intrigue with +Madame Constance--the affair was too good for him to keep!--that he went +all over town showing her letters. Such nice letters as they were--brim +full of repentance, love, and appointments. The Baronet read them to Mr. +Barrows, laughing mischievously, and saying what a fool the woman must +be. Mr. Barrows couldn't keep it from Mrs. Barrows, Mrs. Barrows let the +cat out of the bag to Mrs. Simpson, and Mrs. Simpson would let Mr. +Simpson have no peace till he got on the soft side of the Baronet, and, +what was not a difficult matter, got two of the letters for her to have +a peep into. Mrs. Simpson having feasted her eyes on the two Mr. Simpson +got of the Baronet, and being exceedingly fond of such wares as they +contained, must needs--albeit, in strict confidence--whisper it to Mrs. +Fountain, who was a very fashionable lady, but unfortunately had a head +very like a fountain, with the exception that it ejected out double the +amount it took in. Mrs. Fountain--as anybody might have known--let it +get all over town. And then the vulgar herd took it up, as if it were +assafoetida, only needing a little stirring up, and hurled it back at +the St. Cecilia, the character of which it would damage without a pang +of remorse. + +"Then the thing got to Constance's ears; and getting into a terrible +passion, poor Constance swore nothing would satisfy him but the +Baronet's life. But the Baronet--" + +"A sorry Baronet was he--not a bit like my dear ancestor, Sir +Sunderland," Mrs. Swiggs interposes. + +"Not a bit, Madam," bows our hero. "Like a sensible gentleman, as I was +about to say, finding it getting too hot for him, packed up his alls, +and in the company of his unpaid servant, left for parts westward of +this. I had a suspicion the fellow was not what he should be; and I made +it known to my select friends of the St. Cecilia, who generally +pooh-poohed me. A nobleman, they said, should receive every attention. +And to show that he wasn't what he should be, when he got to Augusta his +servant sued him for his wages; and having nothing but his chivalry, +which the servant very sensibly declined to accept for payment, he came +out like a man, and declared himself nothing but a poor player. + +"But this neither satisfied Constance nor stayed the drifting current of +slander--" + +"Oh! I am so glad it was no worse," Mrs. Swiggs interrupts again. + +"True!" Mr. Soloman responds, laughing heartily, as he taps her on the +arm. "It might have been worse, though. Well, I am, as you know, always +ready to do a bit of a good turn for a friend in need, and pitying poor +Constance as I did, I suggested a committee of four most respectable +gentlemen, and myself, to investigate the matter. The thing struck +Constance favorably, you see. So we got ourselves together, agreed to +consider ourselves a Congress, talked over the affairs of the nation, +carried a vote to dissolve the Union, drank sundry bottles of Champagne, +(I longed for a taste of your old Madeira, Mrs. Swiggs,) and brought in +a verdict that pleased Mrs. Constance wonderfully--and so it ought. We +were, after the most careful examination, satisfied that the reports +prejudicial to the character and standing of Mrs. Constance had no +foundation in truth, being the base fabrications of evil-minded persons, +who sought, while injuring an innocent lady, to damage the reputation of +the St. Cecilia Society. Mr. Constance was highly pleased with the +finding; and finally it proved the sovereign balm that healed all their +wounds. Of course, the Knight, having departed, was spared his blood." + +Here Mr. Soloman makes a pause. Mrs. Swiggs, with a sigh, says, "Is that +all?" + +"Quite enough for once, my good Madam," Mr. Soloman bows in return. + +"Oh! I am so glad the St. Cecilia is yet spared to us. You said, you +know, it was all up with it--" + +"Up? up?--so it is! That is, it won't break it up, you know. Why--oh, I +see where the mistake is--it isn't all over, you know, seeing how the +society can live through a score of nine-months scandals. But the +thing's in every vulgar fellow's lips--that is the worst of it." + +Mrs. Swiggs relishes this bit of gossip as if it were a dainty morsel; +and calling Rebecca, she commands her to forthwith proceed into the +cellar and bring a bottle of the old Madeira--she has only five +left--for Mr. Soloman. And to Mr. Soloman's great delight, the old +negress hastily obeys the summons; brings forth a mass of cobweb and +dust, from which a venerable black bottle is disinterred, uncorked, and +presented to the guest, who drinks the health of Mrs. Swiggs in sundry +well-filled glasses, which he declares choice, adding, that it always +reminds him of the age and dignity of the family. Like the State, +dignity is Mrs. Swiggs' weakness--her besetting sin. Mr. Soloman, having +found the key to this vain woman's generosity, turns it when it suits +his own convenience. + +"By-the-bye," he suddenly exclaims, "you've got Tom locked up again." + +"As safe as he ever was, I warrant ye!" Mrs. Swiggs replies, resuming +her Milton and rocking-chair. + +"Upon my faith I agree with you. Never let him get out, for he is sure +to disgrace the family when he does--" + +"I've said he shall rot there, and he shall rot! He never shall get out +to disgrace the family--no, not if I live to be as gray as Methuselah, I +warrant you!" And Mr. Soloman, having made his compliments to the sixth +glass, draws from his breast pocket a legal-looking paper, which he +passes to Mrs. Swiggs, as she ejaculates, "Oh! I am glad you thought of +that." + +Mr. Soloman, watching intently the changes of her face, says, "You will +observe, Madam, I have mentioned the cripples. There are five of them. +We are good friends, you see; and it is always better to be precise in +those things. It preserves friendship. This is merely a bit of a good +turn I do for you." Mr. Soloman bows, makes an approving motion with his +hands, and lays at her disposal on the table, a small roll of bills. +"You will find two hundred dollars there," he adds, modulating his +voice. "You will find it all right; I got it for you of Keepum. We do a +little in that way; he is very exact, you see--" + +"Honor is the best security between people of our standing," she +rejoins, taking up a pen and signing the instrument, which her guest +deposits snugly in his pocket, and takes his departure for the house of +Madame Flamingo. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +CONTAINING SUNDRY MATTERS APPERTAINING TO THIS HISTORY. + + +If, generous reader, you had lived in Charleston, we would take it for +granted that you need no further enlightening on any of our very select +societies, especially the St. Cecilia; but you may not have enjoyed a +residence so distinguished, rendering unnecessary a few explanatory +remarks. You must know that we not only esteem ourselves the +quintessence of refinement, as we have an undisputed right to do, but +regard the world outside as exceedingly stupid in not knowing as much of +us as we profess to know of ourselves. Abroad, we wonder we are not at +once recognized as Carolinians; at home, we let the vulgar world know +who we are. Indeed, we regard the outside world--of these States we +mean--very much in that light which the Greeks of old were wont to view +the Romans in. Did we but stop here, the weakness might be pardonable. +But we lay claim to Grecian refinement of manners, while pluming all our +mob-politicians Roman orators. There is a profanity about this we +confess not to like; not that danger can befall it, but because it hath +about it that which reminds us of the oyster found in the shell of gold. +Condescending, then, to believe there exists outside of our State a few +persons silly enough to read books, we will take it for granted, reader, +that you are one of them, straightway proceeding with you to the St. +Cecilia. + +You have been a fashionable traveller in Europe? You say--yes! rummaged +all the feudal castles of England, sought out the resting places of her +kings, heard some one say "that is poet's corner," as we passed into +Westminster Abbey, thought they couldn't be much to have such a +corner,--"went to look" where Byron was buried, moistened the marble +with a tear ere we were conscious of it, and saw open to us the gulf of +death as we contemplated how greedy graveyard worms were banqueting on +his greatness. A world of strange fancies came over us as we mused on +England's poets. And we dined with several Dukes and a great many more +Earls, declining no end of invitations of commoners. Very well! we +reply, adding a sigh. And on your return to your home, that you may not +be behind the fashion, you compare disparagingly everything that meets +your eye. Nothing comes up to what you saw in Europe. A servant doesn't +know how to be a servant here; and were we to see the opera at Covent +Garden, we would be sure to stare our eyes out. It is become habitual to +introduce your conversation with, "when I was in Europe." And you know +you never write a letter that you don't in some way bring in the +distinguished persons you met abroad. There is something (no matter what +it is) that forcibly reminds you of what occurred at the table of my +Lady Clarendon, with whom you twice had the pleasure and rare honor of +dining. And by implication, you always give us a sort of lavender-water +description of the very excellent persons you met there, and what they +were kind enough to say of America, and how they complimented you, and +made you the centre and all-absorbing object of attraction--in a word, a +truly wonderful person. And you will not fail, now that it is become +fashionable, to extol with fulsome breath the greatness of every +European despot it hath been your good fortune to get a bow from. And +you are just vain enough to forever keep this before your up-country +cousins. You say, too, that you have looked in at Almacks. Almacks! +alas! departed greatness. With the rise of the Casino hath it lain its +aristocratic head in the dust. + +Well!--the St. Cecilia you must know (its counterparts are to be found +in all our great cities) is a miniature Almacks--a sort of leach-cloth, +through which certain very respectable individuals must pass ere they +can become the elite of our fashionable world. To become a member of the +St. Cecilia--to enjoy its recherché assemblies--to luxuriate in the +delicate perfumes of its votaries, is the besetting sin of a great many +otherwise very sensible people. And to avenge their disappointment at +not being admitted to its precious precincts, they are sure to be found +in the front rank of scandal-mongers when anything in their line is up +with a member. And it is seldom something is not up, for the society +would seem to live and get lusty in an atmosphere of perpetual scandal. +Any amount of duels have come of it; it hath made rich no end of +milliners; it hath made bankrupt husbands by the dozen; it hath been the +theatre of several distinguished romances; it hath witnessed the first +throbbings of sundry hearts, since made happy in wedlock; it hath been +the _shibolath_ of sins that shall be nameless here. The reigning belles +are all members (provided they belong to our first families) of the St. +Cecilia, as is also the prettiest and most popular unmarried parson. And +the parson being excellent material for scandal, Mother Rumor is sure to +have a dash at him. Nor does this very busy old lady seem over-delicate +about which of the belles she associates with the parson, so long as the +scandal be fashionable enough to afford her a good traffic. + +There is continually coming along some unknown but very distinguished +foreigner, whom the society adopts as its own, flutters over, and +smothers with attentions, and drops only when it is discovered he is an +escaped convict. This, in deference to the reputation of the St. +Cecilia, we acknowledge has only happened twice. It has been said with +much truth that the St. Cecilia's worst sin, like the sins of its sister +societies of New York, is a passion for smothering with the satin and +Honiton of its assemblies a certain supercilious species of snobby +Englishmen, who come over here, as they have it (gun and fishing-rod in +hand), merely to get right into the woods where they can have plenty of +bear-hunting, confidently believing New York a forest inhabited by such +animals. As for our squaws, as Mr. Tom Toddleworth would say, (we shall +speak more at length of Tom!) why! they have no very bad opinion of +them, seeing that they belong to a race of semi-barbarians, whose +sayings they delight to note down. Having no society at home, this +species of gentry the more readily find themselves in high favor with +ours. They are always Oxonians, as the sons of green grocers and +fishmongers are sure to be when they come over here (so Mr. Toddleworth +has it, and he is good authority), and we being an exceedingly +impressible people, they kindly condescend to instruct us in all the +high arts, now and then correcting our very bad English. They are clever +fellows generally, being sure to get on the kind side of credulous +mothers with very impressible-headed daughters. + +There was, however, always a distinguished member of the St. Cecilia +society who let out all that took place at its assemblies. The vulgar +always knew what General danced with the lovely Miss A., and how they +looked, and what they said to each other; how many jewels Miss A. wore, +and the material her dress was made of; they knew who polkaed with the +accomplished Miss B., and how like a duchess she bore herself; they had +the exact name of the colonel who dashed along so like a knight with the +graceful and much-admired Mrs. D., whose husband was abroad serving his +country; what gallant captain of dragoons (captains of infantry were +looked upon as not what they might be) promenaded so imperiously with +the vivacious Miss E.; and what distinguished foreigner sat all night in +the corner holding a suspicious and very improper conversation with Miss +F., whose skirts never were free of scandal, and who had twice got the +pretty parson into difficulty with his church. Hence there was a +perpetual outgoing of scandal on the one side, and pelting of dirt on +the other. + +When Mr. Soloman sought the presence of Mrs. Swiggs and told her it was +all up with the St. Cecilia, and when that august member of the society +was so happily disappointed by his concluding with leaving it an +undamaged reputation, the whole story was not let out. In truth the +society was at that moment in a state of indignation, and its reputation +as well-nigh the last stage of disgrace as it were possible to bring it +without being entirely absorbed. The Baronet, who enjoyed a good joke, +and was not over-scrupulous in measuring the latitude of our credulity, +had, it seems, in addition to the little affair with Mrs. Constance, +been imprudent enough to introduce at one of the assemblies of the St. +Cecilia, a lady of exceedingly fair but frail import: this loveliest of +creatures--this angel of fallen fame--this jewel, so much sought after +in her own casket--this child of gentleness and beauty, before whom a +dozen gallant knights were paying homage, and claiming her hand for the +next waltz, turned out to be none other than the Anna Bonard we have +described at the house of Madame Flamingo. The discovery sent the whole +assembly into a fainting fit, and caused such a fluttering in the camp +of fashion. Reader! you may rest assured back-doors and smelling-bottles +were in great demand. + +The Baronet had introduced her as his cousin; just arrived, he said, in +the care of her father--the cousin whose beauty he had so often referred +to. So complete was her toilet and disguise, that none but the most +intimate associate could have detected the fraud. Do you ask us who was +the betrayer, reader? We answer,-- + +One whose highest ambition did seem that of getting her from her +paramour, George Mullholland. It was Judge Sleepyhorn. Reader! you will +remember him--the venerable, snowy-haired man, sitting on the lounge at +the house of Madame Flamingo, and on whom George Mullholland swore to +have revenge. The judge of a criminal court, the admonisher of the +erring, the sentencer of felons, the _habitue_ of the house of Madame +Flamingo--no libertine in disguise could be more scrupulous of his +standing in society, or so sensitive of the opinion held of him by the +virtuous fair, than was this daylight guardian of public morals. + +The Baronet got himself nicely out of the affair, and Mr. Soloman +Snivel, commonly called Mr. Soloman, the accommodation man, is at the +house of Madame Flamingo, endeavoring to effect a reconciliation between +the Judge and George Mullholland. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +IN WHICH IS SEEN A COMMINGLING OF CITIZENS. + + +Night has thrown her mantle over the city. There is a great gathering of +denizens at the house of Madame Flamingo. She has a _bal-masque_ +to-night. Her door is beset with richly-caparisoned equipages. The town +is on tip-toe to be there; we reluctantly follow it. An hundred +gaudily-decorated drinking saloon are filled with gaudier-dressed men. +In loudest accent rings the question--"Do you go to Madame Flamingo's +to-night?" Gentlemen of the genteel world, in shining broadcloth, touch +glasses and answer--"yes!" It is a wonderful city--this of ours. Vice +knows no restraint, poverty hath no friends here. We bow before the +shrine of midnight revelry; we bring licentiousness to our homes, but we +turn a deaf ear to the cries of poverty, and we gloat over the sale of +men. + +The sickly gas-light throws a sicklier glare over the narrow, unpaved +streets. The city is on a frolic, a thing not uncommon with it. Lithe +and portly-figured men, bearing dominos in their hands, saunter along +the sidewalk, now dangling ponderous watch-chains, then flaunting +highly-perfumed cambrics--all puffing the fumes of choice cigars. If +accosted by a grave wayfarer--they are going to the opera! They are +dressed in the style of opera-goers. And the road to the opera seems the +same as that leading to the house of the old hostess. A gaily-equipped +carriage approaches. We hear the loud, coarse laughing of those it so +buoyantly bears, then there comes full to view the glare of yellow silks +and red satins, and doubtful jewels--worn by denizens from whose faded +brows the laurel wreath hath fallen. How shrunken with the sorrow of +their wretched lives, and yet how sportive they seem! The pale gas-light +throws a spectre-like hue over their paler features; the artificial +crimson with which they would adorn the withered cheek refuses to lend a +charm to features wan and ghastly. The very air is sickly with the odor +of their cosmetics. And with flaunting cambrics they bend over carriage +sides, salute each and every pedestrian, and receive in return answers +unsuited to refined ears. They pass into the dim vista, but we see with +the aid of that flickering gas, the shadow of that polluting hand which +hastens life into death. + +Old Mr. McArthur, who sits smoking his long pipe in the door of his +crazy-looking curiosity shop, (he has just parted company with the young +theologian, having assured him he would find a place to stow Tom Swiggs +in,) wonders where the fashionable world of Charleston can be going? It +is going to the house of the Flamingo. The St. Cecilia were to have had +a ball to-night; scandal and the greater attractions here have closed +its doors. + +A long line of carriages files past the door of the old hostess. An +incessant tripping of feet, delicately encased in bright-colored +slippers; an ominous fluttering of gaudy silks and satins; an inciting +glare of borrowed jewelry, mingling with second-hand lace; an +heterogeneous gleaming of bare, brawny arms, and distended busts, all +lend a sort of barbaric splendor to that mysterious group floating, as +it were, into a hall in one blaze of light. A soft carpet, overlain +with brown linen, is spread from the curbstone into the hall. Two +well-developed policemen guard the entrance, take tickets of those who +pass in, and then exchange smiles of recognition with venerable looking +gentlemen in masks. The hostess, a clever "business man" in her way, has +made the admission fee one dollar. Having paid the authorities ten +dollars, and honored every Alderman with a complimentary ticket, who has +a better right? No one has a nicer regard for the Board of Aldermen than +Madame Flamingo; no one can reciprocate this regard more condescendingly +than the honorable Board of Aldermen do. Having got herself arrayed in a +dress of sky-blue satin, that ever and anon streams, cloud-like, behind +her, and a lace cap of approved fashion, with pink strings nicely +bordered in gimp, and a rich Honiton cape, jauntily thrown over her +shoulders, and secured under the chin with a great cluster of blazing +diamonds, and rows of unpolished pearls at her wrists, which are +immersed in crimped ruffles, she doddles up and down the hall in a state +of general excitement. A corpulent colored man, dressed in the garb of a +beadle,--a large staff in his right hand, a cocked hat on his head, and +broad white stripes down his flowing coat, stands midway between the +parlor doors. He is fussy enough, and stupid enough, for a Paddington +beadle. Now Madame Flamingo looks scornfully at him, scolds him, pushes +him aside; he is only a slave she purchased for the purpose; she +commands that he gracefully touch his hat (she snatches it from his +head, and having elevated it over her own, performs the delicate motion +she would have him imitate) to every visitor. The least neglect of duty +will incur (she tells him in language he cannot mistake) the penalty of +thirty-nine well laid on in the morning. In another minute her fat, +chubby-face glows with smiles, her whole soul seems lighted up with +childlike enthusiasm; she has a warm welcome for each new comer, retorts +saliently upon her old friends, and says--"you know how welcome you all +are!" Then she curtsies with such becoming grace. "The house, you know, +gentlemen, is a commonwealth to-night." Ah! she recognizes the tall, +comely figure of Mr. Soloman, the accommodation man. He did not spring +from among the bevy of coat-takers, and hood-retainers, at the extreme +end of the great hall, nor from among the heap of promiscuous garments +piled in one corner; and yet he is here, looking as if some magic +process had brought him from a mysterious labyrinth. "Couldn't get along +without me, you see. It's an ambition with me to befriend everybody. If +I can do a bit of a good turn for a friend, so much the better!" And he +grasps the old hostess by the hand with a self-satisfaction he rather +improves by tapping her encouragingly on the shoulder. "You'll make a +right good thing of this!--a clear thousand, eh?" + +"The fates have so ordained it," smiles naively the old woman. + +"Of course the fates could not ordain otherwise--" + +"As to that, Mr. Soloman, I sometimes think the gods are with me, and +then again I think they are against me. The witches--they have done my +fortune a dozen times or more--always predict evil (I consult them +whenever a sad fit comes over me), but witches are not to be depended +upon! I am sure I think what a fool I am for consulting them at all." +She espies, for her trade of sin hath made keen her eye, the venerable +figure of Judge Sleepyhorn advancing up the hall, masked. "Couldn't get +along without you," she lisps, tripping towards him, and greeting him +with the familiarity of an intimate friend. "I'm rather aristocratic, +you'll say!--and I confess I am, though a democrat in principle!" And +Madame Flamingo confirms what she says with two very dignified nods. As +the Judge passes silently in she pats him encouragingly on the back, +saying,--"There ain't no one in this house what'll hurt a hair on your +head." The Judge heeds not what she says. + +"My honor for it, Madame, but I think your guests highly favored, +altogether! Fine weather, and the prospect of a _bal-masque_ of Pompeian +splendor. The old Judge, eh?" + +"The gods smile--the gods smile, Mr. Soloman!" interrupts the hostess, +bowing and swaying her head in rapid succession. + +"The gods have their eye on him to-night--he's a marked man! A jolly old +cove of a Judge, he is! Cares no more about rules and precedents, on the +bench, than he does for the rights and precedents some persons profess +to have in this house. A high old blade to administer justice, eh?" + +"But, you see, Mr. Soloman," the hostess interrupts, a gracious bow +keeping time with the motion of her hand, "he is such an aristocratic +prop in the character of my house." + +"I rather like that, I confess, Madame. You have grown rich off the +aristocracy. Now, don't get into a state of excitement!" says Mr. +Soloman, fingering his long Saxon beard, and eyeing her mischievously. +She sees a bevy of richly-dressed persons advancing up the hall in high +glee. Indeed her house is rapidly filling to the fourth story. And yet +they come! she says. "The gods are in for a time. I love to make the +gods happy." + +Mr. Soloman has lain his hand upon her arm retentively. + +"It is not that the aristocracy and such good persons as the Judge spend +so much here. But they give _eclat_ to the house, and _eclat_ is money. +That's it, sir! Gold is the deity of _our_ pantheon! Bless you (the +hostess evinces the enthusiasm of a politician), what better evidence of +the reputation of my house than is before you, do you want? I've shut up +the great Italian opera, with its three squalling prima donnas, which in +turn has shut up the poor, silly _Empresario_ as they call him; and the +St. Cecilia I have just used up. I'm a team in my way, you see;--run all +these fashionable oppositions right into bankruptcy." Never were words +spoken with more truth. Want of patronage found all places of rational +amusement closed. Societies for intellectual improvement, one after +another, died of poverty. Fashionable lectures had attendance only when +fashionable lecturers came from the North; and the Northman was sure to +regard our taste through the standard of what he saw before him. + +The house of the hostess triumphs, and is corpulent of wealth and +splendor. To-morrow she will feed with the rich crumbs that fall from +her table the starving poor. And although she holds poor virtue in utter +contempt, feeding the poor she regards a large score on the passport to +a better world. A great marble stairway winds its way upward at the +farther end of the hall, and near it are two small balconies, one on +each side, presenting barricades of millinery surmounted with the +picturesque faces of some two dozen denizens, who keep up an incessant +gabbling, interspersed here and there with jeers directed at Mr. +Soloman. "Who is he seeking to accommodate to-night?" they inquire, +laughing merrily. + +The house is full, the hostess has not space for one friend more; she +commands the policemen to close doors. An Alderman is the only exception +to her _fiat_. "You see," she says, addressing herself to a courtly +individual who has just saluted her with urbane deportment, "I must +preserve the _otium cum dignitate_ of my (did I get it right?) standing +in society. I don't always get these Latin sayings right. Our +Congressmen don't. And, you see, like them, I ain't a Latin scholar, and +may be excused for any little slips. Politics and larnin' don't get +along well together. Speaking of politics, I confess I rather belong to +the Commander and Quabblebum school--I do!" + +At this moment (a tuning of instruments is heard in the dancing-hall) +the tall figure of the accommodation man is seen, in company of the +venerable Judge, passing hurriedly into a room on the right of the +winding stairs before described. "Judge!" he exclaims, closing the door +quickly after him, "you will be discovered and exposed. I am not +surprised at your passion for her, nor the means by which you seek to +destroy the relations existing between her and George Mullholland. It is +an evidence of taste in you. But she is proud to a fault, and, this I +say in friendship, you so wounded her feelings, when you betrayed her to +the St. Cecilia, that she has sworn to have revenge on you. George +Mullholland, too, has sworn to have your life. + +"I tell you what it is, Judge, (the accommodation man assumes the air of +a bank director,) I have just conceived--you will admit I have an +inventive mind!--a plot that will carry you clean through the whole +affair. Your ambition is divided between a passion for this charming +creature and the good opinion of better society. The resolution to +retain the good opinion of society is doing noble battle in your heart; +but it is the weaker vessel, and it always will be so with a man of your +mould, inasmuch as such resolutions are backed up by the less fierce +elements of our nature. Put this down as an established principle. Well, +then, I will take upon myself the betrayal. I will plead you ignorant of +the charge, procure her forgiveness, and reconcile the matter with this +Mullholland. It's worth an hundred or more, eh?" + +The venerable man smiles, shakes his head as if heedless of the +admonition, and again covers his face with his domino. + +The accommodation man, calling him by his judicial title, says he will +yet repent the refusal! + +It is ten o'clock. The gentleman slightly colored, who represents a +fussy beadle, makes a flourish with his great staff. The doors of the +dancing hall are thrown open. Like the rushing of the gulf stream there +floods in a motley procession of painted females and masked men--the +former in dresses as varied in hue as the fires of remorse burning out +their unuttered thoughts. Two and two they jeer and crowd their way +along into the spacious hall, the walls of which are frescoed in +extravagant mythological designs, the roof painted in fret work, and the +cornices interspersed with seraphs in stucco and gilt. The lights of two +massive chandeliers throw a bewitching refulgence over a scene at once +picturesque and mysterious; and from four tall mirrors secured between +the windows, is reflected the forms and movements of the masquers. + +Reader! you have nothing in this democratic country with which to +successfully compare it. And to seek a comparison in the old world, +where vice, as in this city of chivalry, hath a license, serves not our +office. + +Madame Flamingo, flanked right and left by twelve colored gentlemen, +who, their collars decorated with white and pink rosettes, officiate as +masters of ceremony, and form a crescent in front of the thronging +procession, steps gradually backward, curtsying and bowing, and +spreading her hands to her guests, after the manner of my Lord +Chamberlain. + +Eight colored musicians, (everything is colored here,) perched on a +raised platform covered with maroon-colored plush, at the signal of a +lusty-tongued call-master, strike up a march, to which the motley throng +attempt to keep time. It is martial enough; and discordant enough for +anything but keeping time to. + +The plush-covered benches filing along the sides and ends of the hall +are eagerly sought after and occupied by a strange mixture of lookers on +in Vienna. Here the hoary-headed father sits beside a newly-initiated +youth who is receiving his first lesson of dissipation. There the grave +and chivalric planter sports with the nice young man, who is cultivating +a beard and his way into the by-ways. A little further on the suspicious +looking gambler sits freely conversing with the man whom a degrading +public opinion has raised to the dignity of the judicial bench. Yonder +is seen the man who has eaten his way into fashionable society, (and by +fashionable society very much caressed in return,) the bosom companion +of the man whose crimes have made him an outcast. + +Generous reader! contemplate this grotesque assembly; study the object +Madame Flamingo has in gathering it to her fold. Does it not present the +accessories to wrong doing? Does it not show that the wrong-doer and the +criminally inclined, too often receive encouragement by the example of +those whoso duty it is to protect society? The spread of crime, alas! +for the profession, is too often regarded by the lawyer as rather a +desirable means of increasing his trade. + +Quadrille follows quadrille, the waltz succeeds the schottish, the scene +presents one bewildering maze of flaunting gossamers and girating +bodies, now floating sylph-like into the foreground, then whirling +seductively into the shadowy vista, where the joyous laugh dies out in +the din of voices. The excitement has seized upon the head and heart of +the young,--the child who stood trembling between the first and second +downward step finds her reeling brain a captive in this snare set to +seal her ruin. + +Now the music ceases, the lusty-tongued call-master stands surveying +what he is pleased to call the oriental splendor of this grotesque +assembly. He doesn't know who wouldn't patronize such a house! It +suddenly forms in platoon, and marshalled by slightly-colored masters of +ceremony, promenades in an oblong figure. + +Here, leaning modestly on the arm of a tall figure in military uniform, +and advancing slowly up the hall, is a girl of some sixteen summers. Her +finely-rounded form is in harmony with the ravishing vivacity of her +face, which is beautifully oval. Seen by the glaring gas-light her +complexion is singularly clear and pale. But that freshness which had +gained her many an admirer, and which gave such a charm to the roundness +of early youth, we look for in vain. And yet there is a softness and +delicacy about her well-cut and womanly features--a childlike sweetness +in her smile--a glow of thoughtfulness in those great, flashing black +eyes--an expression of melancholy in which at short intervals we read +her thoughts--an incessant playing of those long dark eyelashes, that +clothes her charms with an irresistible, a soul-inspiring seductiveness. +Her dress, of moire antique, is chasteness itself; her bust exquisite +symmetry; it heaves as softly as if touched by some gentle zephyr. From +an Haidean brow falls and floats undulating over her marble-like +shoulders, the massive folds of her glossy black hair. Nature had indeed +been lavish of her gifts on this fair creature, to whose charms no +painter could give a touch more fascinating. This girl, whose elastic +step and erect carriage contrasts strangely with the languid forms about +her, is Anna Bonard, the neglected, the betrayed. There passes and +repasses her, now contemplating her with a curious stare, then muttering +inaudibly, a man of portly figure, in mask and cowl. He touches with a +delicate hand his watch-guard, we see two sharp, lecherous eyes peering +through the domino; he folds his arms and pauses a few seconds, as if to +survey the metal of her companion, then crosses and recrosses her path. +Presently his singular demeanor attracts her attention, a curl of +sarcasm is seen on her lip, her brow darkens, her dark orbs flash as of +fire,--all the heart-burnings of a soul stung with shame are seen to +quicken and make ghastly those features that but a moment before shone +lambent as summer lightning. He pauses as with a look of withering scorn +she scans him from head to foot, raises covertly her left hand, tossing +carelessly her glossy hair on her shoulder, and with lightning quickness +snatches with her right the domino from his face. "Hypocrite!" she +exclaims, dashing it to the ground, and with her foot placed defiantly +upon the domino, assumes a tragic attitude, her right arm extended, and +the forefinger of her hand pointing in his face, "Ah!" she continues, in +biting accents, "it is against the perfidy of such as you. I have +struggled. Your false face, like your heart, needed a disguise. But I +have dragged it away, that you may be judged as you are. This is my +satisfaction for your betrayal. Oh that I could have deeper revenge!" +She has unmasked Judge Sleepyhorn, who stands before the anxious gaze of +an hundred night revellers, pressing eagerly to the scene of confusion. +Madame Flamingo's house, as you may judge, is much out in its dignity, +and in a general uproar. There was something touching--something that +the graver head might ponder over, in the words of this unfortunate +girl--"I have struggled!" A heedless and gold-getting world seldom +enters upon the mystery of its meaning. But it hath a meaning deep and +powerful in its appeal to society--one that might serve the good of a +commonwealth did society stoop and take it by the hand. + +So sudden was the motion with which this girl snatched the mask from the +face of the Judge, (he stood as if appalled,) that, ere he had gained +his self-possession, she drew from her girdle a pearl-hilted stiletto, +and in attempting to ward off the dreadful lunge, he struck it from her +hand, and into her own bosom. The weapon fell gory to the floor--the +blood trickled down her bodice--a cry of "murder" resounded through the +hall! The administrator of justice rushed out of the door as the unhappy +girl swooned in the arms of her partner. A scene so confused and wild +that it bewilders the brain, now ensued. Madame Flamingo calls loudly +for Mr. Soloman; and as the reputation of her house is uppermost in her +thoughts, she atones for its imperiled condition by fainting in the arms +of a grave old gentleman, who was beating a hasty retreat, and whose +respectability she may compromise through this uncalled-for act. + +A young man of slender form, and pale, sandy features, makes his way +through the crowd, clasps Anna affectionately in his arms, imprints a +kiss on her pallid brow, and bears her out of the hall. + +By the aid of hartshorn and a few dashes of cold water, the old hostess +is pleased to come to, as we say, and set about putting her house in +order. Mr. Soloman, to the great joy of those who did not deem it +prudent to make their escape, steps in to negotiate for the peace of the +house and the restoration of order. "It is all the result of a mistake," +he says laughingly, and good-naturedly, patting every one he meets on +the shoulder. "A little bit of jealousy on the part of the girl. It all +had its origin in an error that can be easily rectified. In a word, +there's much ado about nothing in the whole of it. Little affairs of +this kind are incident to fashionable society all over the world! The +lady being only scratched, is more frightened than hurt. Nobody is +killed; and if there were, why killings are become so fashionable, that +if the killed be not a gentleman, nobody thinks anything of it," he +continues. And Mr. Soloman being an excellent diplomatist, does, with +the aid of the hostess, her twelve masters of ceremony, her beadle, and +two policemen, forthwith bring the house to a more orderly condition. +But night has rolled into the page of the past, the gray dawn of morning +is peeping in at the half-closed windows, the lights burning in the +chandeliers shed a pale glow over the wearied features of those who +drag, as it were, their languid bodies to the stifled music of unwilling +slaves. And while daylight seems modestly contending with the vulgar +glare within, there appears among the pale revellers a paler ghost, who, +having stalked thrice up and down the hall, preserving the frigidity and +ghostliness of the tomb, answering not the questions that are put to +him, and otherwise deporting himself as becometh a ghost of good metal, +is being taken for a demon of wicked import. Now he pauses at the end of +the hall, faces with spectre-like stare the alarmed group at the +opposite end, rests his left elbow on his scythe-staff, and having set +his glass on the floor, points to its running sands warningly with his +right forefinger. Not a muscle does he move. "Truly a ghost!" exclaims +one. "A ghost would have vanished before this," whispers another. "Speak +to him," a third responds, as the musicians are seen to pale and leave +their benches. Madame Flamingo, pale and weary, is first to rush for the +door, shrieking as his ghostship turns his grim face upon her. Shriek +follows shriek, the lights are put out, the gray dawn plays upon and +makes doubly frightful the spectre. A Pandemonium of shriekings and +beseechings is succeeded by a stillness as of the tomb. Our ghost is +victor. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +WHAT TAKES PLACE BETWEEN GEORGE MULLHOLLAND AND MR. SNIVEL. + + +The man who kissed and bore away the prostrate girl was George +Mullholland. + +"Oh! George--George!" she whispers imploringly, as her eyes meet his; +and turning upon the couch of her chamber, where he hath lain her, +awakes to consciousness, and finds him watching over her with a lover's +solicitude. "I was not cold because I loved you less--oh no! It was to +propitiate my ambition--to be free of the bondage of this house--to +purge myself of the past--to better my future!" And she lays her pale, +nervous hand gently on his arm--then grasps his hand and presses it +fervently to her lips. + +Though placed beyond the pale of society--though envied by one extreme +and shunned by the other--she finds George her only true friend. He +parts and smooths gently over her polished shoulders her dishevelled +hair; he watches over her with the tenderness of a brother; he quenches +and wipes away the blood oozing from her wounded breast; he kisses and +kisses her flushed cheek, and bathes her Ion-like brow. He forgives all. +His heart would speak if his tongue had words to represent it. He would +the past were buried--the thought of having wronged him forgotten. She +recognizes in his solicitude for her the sincerity of his heart. It +touches like sweet music the tenderest chords of her own; and like +gushing fountains her great black eyes fill with tears. She buries her +face in her hands, crying, "Never, never, George, (I swear it before the +God I have wronged, but whose forgiveness I still pray,) will I again +forget my obligation to you! I care not how high in station he who seeks +me maybe. Ambitious!--I was misled. His money lured me away, but he +betrayed me in the face of his promises. Henceforth I have nothing for +this deceptive world; I receive of it nothing but betrayal--" + +"The world wants nothing more of either of us," interrupts George. + +More wounded in her feelings than in her flesh, she sobs and wrings her +hands like one in despair. + +"You have ambition. I am too poor to serve your ambition!" + +That word, too "poor," is more than her already distracted brain can +bear up under. It brings back the terrible picture of their past +history; it goads and agonizes her very soul. She throws her arms +frantically about his neck; presses him to her bosom; kisses him with +the fervor of a child. Having pledged his forgiveness with a kiss, and +sealed it by calling in a witness too often profaned on such occasions, +George calms her feelings as best he can; then he smooths with a gentle +hand the folds of her uplifted dress, and with them curtains the satin +slippers that so delicately encase her small feet. This done, he spreads +over her the richly-lined India morning-gown presented to her a few days +ago by the Judge, who, as she says, so wantonly betrayed her, and on +whom she sought revenge. Like a Delian maid, surrounded with Oriental +luxury, and reclining on satin and velvet, she flings her flowing hair +over her shoulders, nestles her weary head in the embroidered cushion, +and with the hand of her only true friend firmly grasped in her own, +soothes away into a calm sleep--that sovereign but too transient balm +for sorrowing hearts. + +Our scene changes. The ghost hath taken himself to the graveyard; the +morning dawns soft and sunny on what we harmlessly style the sunny city +of the sunny South. Madame Flamingo hath resolved to nail another +horse-shoe over her door. She will propitiate (so she hath it) the god +of ghosts. + +George Mullholland, having neither visible means of gaining a livelihood +nor a settled home, may be seen in a solitary box at Baker's, (a +coffee-house at the corner of Meeting and Market streets,) eating an +humble breakfast. About him there is a forlornness that the quick eye +never fails to discover in the manners of the homeless man. "Cleverly +done," he says, laying down the _Mercury_ newspaper, in which it is set +forth that "the St. Cecilia, in consequence of an affliction in the +family of one of its principal members, postponed its assembly last +night. The theatre, in consequence of a misunderstanding between the +manager and his people, was also closed. The lecture on comparative +anatomy, by Professor Bones, which was to have been delivered at +Hibernian Hall, is, in consequence of the indisposition of the learned +Professor, put off to Tuesday evening next, when he will have, as he +deserves, an overflowing house. Tickets, as before, may be had at all +the music and bookstores." The said facetious journal was silent on the +superior attractions at the house of the old hostess; nor did it deem it +prudent to let drop a word on the misunderstanding between the patrons +of the drama and the said theatrical manager, inasmuch as it was one of +those that are sure to give rise to a very serious misunderstanding +between that functionary and his poor people. + +In another column the short but potent line met his eye: "An overflowing +and exceedingly fashionable house greeted the Negro Minstrels last +night. First-rate talent never goes begging in our city." George sips +his coffee and smiles. Wonderfully clever these editors are, he thinks. +They have nice apologies for public taste always on hand; set the +country by the ears now and then; and amuse themselves with carrying on +the most prudent description of wars. + +His own isolated condition, however, is uppermost in his mind. Poverty +and wretchedness stare him in the face on one side; chivalry, on the +other, has no bows for him while daylight lasts. Instinct whispers in +his ear--where one exists the other is sure to be. + +To the end that this young man will perform a somewhat important part in +the by-ways of this history, some further description of him may be +necessary. George Mullholland stands some five feet nine, is +wiry-limbed, and slender and erect of person. Of light complexion, his +features, are sharp and irregular, his face narrow and freckled, his +forehead small and retreating, his hair sandy and short-cropped. Add to +these two small, dull, gray eyes, and you have features not easily +described. Nevertheless, there are moments when his countenance wears an +expression of mildness--one in which the quick eye may read a character +more inoffensive than intrusive. A swallow-tail blue coat, of ample +skirts, and brass buttons; a bright-colored waistcoat, opening an +avalanche of shirt-bosom, blossoming with cheap jewelry; a broad, +rolling shirt-collar, tied carelessly with a blue ribbon; a +steeple-crowned hat, set on the side of his head with a challenging air; +and a pair of broadly-striped and puckered trowsers, reaching well over +a small-toed and highly-glazed boot, constitutes his dress. For the +exact set of those two last-named articles of his wardrobe he maintains +a scrupulous regard. We are compelled to acknowledge George an +importation from New York, where he would be the more readily recognized +by that vulgar epithet, too frequently used by the self-styled +refined--"a swell." + +Life with George is a mere drift of uncertainty. As for aims and ends, +why he sees the safer thing in having nothing to do with them. Mr. Tom +Toddleworth once advised this course, and Tom was esteemed good +authority in such matters. Like many others, his character is made up of +those yielding qualities which the teachings of good men may elevate to +usefulness, or bad men corrupt by their examples. There is a stage in +the early youth of such persons when we find their minds singularly +susceptible, and ready to give rapid growth to all the vices of depraved +men; while they are equally apt in receiving good, if good men but take +the trouble to care for them, and inculcate lessons of morality. + +Not having a recognized home, we may add, in resuming our story, that +George makes Baker's his accustomed haunt during the day, as do also +numerous others of his class--a class recognized and made use of by men +in the higher walks of life only at night. + +"Ah! ha, ha! into a tight place this time, George," laughs out Mr. +Soloman, the accommodation man, as he hastens into the room, seats +himself in the box with George, and seizes his hand with the +earnestness of a true friend. Mr. Soloman can deport himself on all +occasions with becoming good nature. "It's got out, you see." + +"What has got out?" interrupts George, maintaining a careless +indifference. + +"Come now! none of that, old fellow." + +"If I understood you--" + +"That affair last night," pursues Mr. Soloman, his delicate fingers +wandering into his more delicately-combed beard. "It'll go hard with +you. He's a stubborn old cove, that Sleepyhorn; administers the law as +Cæsar was wont to. Yesterday he sent seven to the whipping-post; to-day +he hangs two 'niggers' and a white man. There is a consolation in +getting rid of the white. I say this because no one loses a dollar by +it." + +George, continuing to masticate his bread, says it has nothing to do +with him. He may hang the town. + +"If I can do you a bit of a good turn, why here's your man. But you must +not talk that way--you must not, George, I assure you!" Mr. Soloman +assumes great seriousness of countenance, and again, in a friendly way, +takes George by the hand. "That poignard, George, was yours. It was +picked up by myself when it fell from your hand--" + +"My hand! my hand!" George quietly interposes, his countenance paling, +and his eyes wandering in excitement. + +"Now don't attempt to disguise the matter, you know! Come out on the +square--own up! Jealousy plays the devil with one now and then. I +know--I have had a touch of it; had many a little love affair in my +time--" + +George again interrupts by inquiring to what he is coming. + +"To the attempt (the accommodation man assumes an air of sternness) you +made last night on the life of that unhappy girl. It is needless," he +adds, "to plead ignorance. The Judge has the poignard; and what's more, +there are four witnesses ready to testify. It'll go hard with you, my +boy." He shakes his head warningly. + +"I swear before God and man I am as innocent as ignorant of the charge. +The poignard I confess is mine; but I had no part in the act of last +night, save to carry the prostrate girl--the girl I dearly love--away. +This I can prove by her own lips." + +Mr. Soloman, with an air of legal profundity, says: "This is all very +well in its way, George, but it won't stand in law. The law is what you +have got to get at. And when you have got at it, you must get round it; +and then you must twist it and work it every which way--only be careful +not to turn its points against yourself; that, you know, is the way we +lawyers do the thing. You'll think we're a sharp lot; and we have to be +sharp, as times are." + +"It is not surprising," replies George, as if waking from a fit of +abstraction, "that she should have sought revenge of one who so basely +betrayed her at the St. Cecilia--" + +"There, there!" Mr. Soloman interrupts, changing entirely the expression +of his countenance, "the whole thing is out! I said there was an +unexplained mystery somewhere. It was not the Judge, but me who betrayed +her to the assembly. Bless you, (he smiles, and crooking his finger, +beckons a servant, whom he orders to bring a julep,) I was bound to do +it, being the guardian of the Society's dignity, which office I have +held for years. But you don't mean to have it that the girl +attempted--(he suddenly corrects himself)--Ah, that won't do, George. +Present my compliments to Anna--I wouldn't for the world do aught to +hurt her feelings, you know that--and say I am ready to get on my knees +to her to confess myself a penitent for having injured her feelings. +Yes, I am ready to do anything that will procure her forgiveness. I +plead guilty. But she must in return forgive the Judge. He is hard in +law matters--that is, we of the law consider him so--now and then; but +laying that aside, he is one of the best old fellows in the world, loves +Anna to distraction; nor has he the worst opinion in the world of you, +George. Fact is, I have several times heard him refer to you in terms of +praise. As I said before, being the man to do you a bit of a good turn, +take my advice as a friend. The Judge has got you in his grasp, +according to every established principle of law; and having four good +and competent witnesses, (You have no voice in law, and Anna's won't +stand before a jury,) will send you up for a twelve-months' residence in +Mount Rascal." + +It will be almost needless here to add, that Mr. Soloman had, in an +interview with the Judge, arranged, in consideration of a goodly fee, to +assume the responsibility of the betrayal at the St. Cecilia; and also +to bring about a reconciliation between him and the girl he so +passionately sought. + +Keep out of the way a few days, and everything will blow over and come +right. I will procure you the Judge's friendship--yes, his money, if you +want. More than that, I will acknowledge my guilt to Anna; and being as +generous of heart as she is beautiful, she will, having discovered the +mistake, forgive me and make amends to the Judge for her foolish act. + +It is almost superfluous to add, that the apparent sincerity with which +the accommodation man pleaded, had its effect on the weak-minded man. He +loved dearly the girl, but poverty hung like a leaden cloud over him. +Poverty stripped him of the means of gratifying her ambition; poverty +held him fast locked in its blighting chains; poverty forbid his +rescuing her from the condition necessity had imposed upon her; poverty +was goading him into crime; and through crime only did he see the means +of securing to himself the cherished object of his love. + +"I am not dead to your friendship, but I am too sad at heart to make any +pledge that involves Anna, at this moment. We met in wretchedness, came +up in neglect and crime, sealed our love with the hard seal of +suffering. Oh! what a history of misery my heart could unfold, if it had +but a tongue!" George replies, in subdued accents, as a tear courses +down his cheek. + +Extending his hand, with an air of encouragement, Mr. Soloman says +nothing in the world would so much interest him as a history of the +relations existing between George and Anna. Their tastes, aims, and very +natures, are different. To him their connection is clothed in mystery. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +IN WHICH A GLEAM OF LIGHT IS SHED ON THE HISTORY OF ANNA BONARD. + + +A bottle of wine, and the mild, persuasive manner of Mr. Snivel, so +completely won over George's confidence, that, like one of that class +always too ready to give out their heart-achings at the touch of +sympathy, and too easily betrayed through misplaced confidence, he +commences relating his history. That of Anna is identified with it. "We +will together proceed to New York, for it is there, among haunts of vice +and depravity--" + +"In depth of degradation they have no counterpart on our globe," Mr. +Soloman interrupts, filling his glass. + +"We came up together--knew each other, but not ourselves. That was our +dark age." George pauses for a moment. + +"Bless you," again interrupts Mr. Soloman, tipping his glass very +politely, "I never--that is, when I hear our people who get themselves +laced into narrow-stringed Calvinism, and long-founded foreign missions, +talk--think much could have come of the dark ages. I speak after the +manner of an attorney, when I say this. We hear a deal of the dark ages, +the crimes of the dark ages, the dark idolatry of darker Africa. My word +for it, and it's something, if they had anything darker in Sodom; if +they had in Babylon a state of degradation more hardened of crime; if +in Egypt there existed a benightedness more stubbornly opposed to the +laws of God--than is to be found in that New York; that city of merchant +princes with princely palaces; that modern Pompeii into which a mighty +commerce teems its mightier gold, where a coarse throng revel in coarser +luxury, where a thousand gaudy churches rear heavenward their gaudier +steeples, then I have no pity for Sodom, not a tear to shed over fallen +Babylon, and very little love for Egypt." Mr. Snivel concludes, +saying--"proceed, young man." + +"Of my mother I know nothing. My father (I mean the man I called father, +but who they said was not my father, though he was the only one that +cared anything for me) was Tom English, who used to live here and there +with me about the Points. He was always looking in at Paddy Pie's, in +Orange street, and Paddy Pie got all his money, and then Paddy Pie and +him quarrelled, and we were turned out of Paddy Pie's house. So we used +to lodge here and there, in the cellars about the Points, in 'Cut Throat +Alley,' or 'Cow Bay,' or 'Murderer's Alley,' or in 'The House of the +Nine Nations,' or wherever we could get a sixpenny rag to lay down upon. +Nobody but English seemed to care for me, and English cared for nobody +but me. And English got thick with Mrs. McCarty and her three +daughters--they kept the Rookery in 'Cow Bay,' which we used to get to +up a long pair of stairs outside, and which God knows I never want to +think of again,--where sometimes fourteen or fifteen of us, men and +women, used to sleep in a little room Mrs. McCarty paid eight dollars a +month for. And Mr. Crown, who always seemed a cross sort of man, and was +agent for all the houses on the Points I thought, used to say she had it +too cheap. And English got to thinking a good deal of Mrs. McCarty, and +Mrs. McCarty's daughters got to thinking a good deal of him. And +Boatswain Bill, who lived at the house of the 'Nine Nations'--the house +they said had a bottomless pit--and English used to fight a deal about +the Miss McCartys, and Bill one night threw English over the high stoop, +down upon the pavement, and broke his arms. They said it was a wonder it +hadn't a broken his neck. Fighting Mary (Mary didn't go by that name +then) came up and took English's part, and whipped Boatswain Bill, and +said she'd whip the whole house of the 'Nine Nations' if it had spunk +enough in it to come on. But no one dare have a set-to with Mary. Mary +used to drink a deal of gin, and say--'this gin and the devil'll get us +all one of these days. I wonder if Mr. Crown'll sell bad gin to his +highness when he gets him?' Well, Bill was sent up for six months, so +the McCartys had peace in the house, and Mrs. McCarty got him little +things, and did for English until his arms got well. Then he got a +little money, (I don't know how he got it,) and Paddy Pie made good +friends with him, and got him from the Rookery, and then all his money. +I used to think all the money in the Points found its way either to the +house of Paddy Pie, or the Bottomless Pit at the house of the 'Nine +Nations,' and all the clothes to the sign of the 'Three Martyrs,' which +the man with the eagle face kept round the corner. + +"English used to say in one of his troubled fits, 'I'd like to be a +respectable man, and get out of this, if there was a chance, and do +something for you, George. There's no chance, you see.' And when we went +into Broadway, which we did now and then, and saw what another world it +was, and how rich everything looked, English used to shake his head and +say, 'they don't know how we live, George.' + +"Paddy Pie soon quarrelled with English, and being penniless again we +had to shift for ourselves. English didn't like to go back to Mrs. +McCarty, so we used to sleep at Mrs. Sullivan's cellar in 'Cut Throat +Alley.' And Mrs. Sullivan's cellar was only about twelve feet by twenty, +and high enough to stand up in, and wet enough for anything, and so +overrun with rats and vermin that we couldn't sleep. There were nine +rag-beds in the cellar, which as many as twenty-three would sometimes +sleep on, or, if they were not too tipsy, try to sleep on. And folks +used to come into the cellar at night, and be found dead in the morning. +This made such a fuss in the neighborhood (there was always a fuss when +Old Bones, the coroner, was about), and frightened so many, that Mrs. +Sullivan couldn't get lodgers for weeks. She used to nail no end of +horse-shoes over the door to keep out the ghosts of them that died last. +But it was a long while before her lodgers got courage enough to come +back. Then we went to the house of the Blazers, in 'Cow Bay,' and used +to lodge there with Yellow Bill. They said Bill was a thief by +profession; but I wasn't old enough to be a judge. Little Lizza Rock, +the nondescript, as people called her, used to live at the Blazers. Poor +Lizza had a hard time of it, and used to sigh and say she wished she was +dead. Nobody thought of her, she said, and she was nothing because she +was deformed, and a cripple. She was about four feet high, had a face +like a bull-dog, and a swollen chest, and a hunchback, a deformed leg, +and went with a crutch. She never combed her hair, and what few rags she +had on her back hung in filth. What few shillings she got were sure to +find their way either into Bill's pocket, or send her tipsy into the +'Bottomless Pit' of the house of the 'Nine Nations.' There was in the +Bottomless Pit a never-ending stream of gin that sent everybody to the +Tombs, and from the Tombs to the grave. But Lizza was good to me, and +used to take care of me, and steal little things for me from old Dan +Sullivan, who begged in Broadway, and let Yellow Bill get his money, by +getting him tipsy. And I got to liking Lizza, for we both seemed to have +no one in the world who cared for us but English. And there was always +some trouble between the Blazers and the people at the house of the +'Nine Nations.' + +"Well, English was hard to do for some time, and through necessity, +which he said a deal about, we were driven out of every place we had +sought shelter in. And English did something they sent him up for a +twelve-month for, and I was left to get on as I could. I was took in by +'Hard-Fisted Sall,' who always wore a knuckle-duster, and used to knock +everybody down she met, and threatened a dozen times to whip Mr. +Fitzgerald, the detective, and used to rob every one she took in tow, +and said if she could only knock down and rob the whole pumpkin-headed +corporation she should die easy, for then she would know she had done a +good thing for the public, whose money they were squandering without +once thinking how the condition of such wretches as herself could be +bettered. + +"English died before he had been up two months. And death reconciled the +little difficulty between him and the McCartys; and old Mrs. McCarty's +liking for him came back, and she went crying to the Bellevue and begged +them, saying she was his mother, to let her take his body away and bury +it. They let her have it, and she brought it away to the rookery, in a +red coffin, and got a clean sheet of the Blazers, and hung it up beside +the coffin, and set four candles on a table, and a little cross between +them, and then borrowed a Bible with a cross on it, and laid it upon the +coffin. Then they sent for me. I cried and kissed poor English, for poor +English was the only father I knew, and he was good to me. I never shall +forget what I saw in that little room that night. I found a dozen +friends and the McCartys there, forming a half-circle of curious and +demoniacal faces, peering over the body of English, whose face, I +thought, formed the only repose in the picture. There were two small +pictures--one of the Saviour, and the other of Kossuth--hung at the head +and feet of the corpse; and the light shed a lurid paleness over the +living and the dead. And detective Fitzgerald and another gentleman +looked in. + +"'Who's here to-night?' says Fitzgerald, in a friendly sort of way. + +"'God love ye, Mr. Fitzgerald, poor English is gone! Indeed, then, it +was the will of the Lord, and He's taken him from us--poor English!' +says Mrs. McCarty. And Fitzgerald, and the gentleman with him, entered +the den, and they shuddered and sat down at the sight of the face in the +coffin. 'Sit down, Mr. Fitzgerald, do!--and may the Lord love ye! There +was a deal of good in poor English. He's gone--so he is!' said Mrs. +McCarty, begging them to sit down, and excuse the disordered state of +her few rags. She had a hard struggle to live, God knows. They took off +their hats, and sat a few minutes in solemn silence. The rags moved at +the gentleman's side, which made him move towards the door. 'What is +there, my good woman?' he inquired. 'She's a blessed child, Mr. +Fitzgerald knows that same:' says Mrs. McCarty, turning down the rags +and revealing the wasted features of her youngest girl, a child eleven +years old, sinking in death. 'God knows she'll be better in heaven, and +herself won't be long out of it,' Mrs. McCarty twice repeated, +maintaining a singular indifference to the hand of death, already upon +the child. The gentleman left some money to buy candles for poor +English, and with Mr. Fitzgerald took himself away. + +"Near midnight, the tall black figure of solemn-faced Father Flaherty +stalked in. He was not pleased with the McCartys, but went to the side +of the dying child, fondled her little wasted hand in his own, and +whispered a prayer for her soul. Never shall I forget how innocently she +looked in his face while he parted the little ringlets that curled over +her brow, and told her she would soon have a better home in a better +world. Then he turned to poor English, and the cross, and the candles, +and the pictures, and the living faces that gave such a ghastliness to +the picture. Mrs. McCarty brought him a basin of water, over which he +muttered, and made it holy. Then he again muttered some unintelligible +sentences, and sprinkled the water over the dying child, over the body +of poor English, and over the living--warning Mrs. McCarty and her +daughters, as he pointed to the coffin. Then he knelt down, and they all +knelt down, and he prayed for the soul of poor English, and left. What +holy water then was left, Mrs. McCarty placed near the door, to keep the +ghosts out. + +"The neighbors at the Blazers took a look in, and a few friends at the +house of the 'Nine Nations' took a look in, and 'Fighting Mary,' of +Murderer's Alley, took a look in, and before Father Flaherty had got +well out of 'Cow Bay,' it got to be thought a trifle of a wake would +console Mrs. McCarty's distracted feelings. 'Hard-fisted Sall' came to +take a last look at poor English; and she said she would spend her last +shilling over poor English, and having one, it would get a drop, and a +drop dropped into the right place would do Mrs. McCarty a deal of good. + +"And Mrs. McCarty agreed that it wouldn't be amiss, and putting with +Sall's shilling the money that was to get the candles, I was sent to the +'Bottomless Pit' at the house of the 'Nine Nations,' where Mr. Crown had +a score with the old woman, and fetched away a quart of his gin, which +they said was getting the whole of them. The McCartys took a drop, and +the girls took a drop, and the neighbors took a drop, and they all kept +taking drops, and the drops got the better of them all. One of the Miss +McCartys got to having words with 'Fighting Mary,' about an old affair +in which poor English was concerned, and the words got to blows, when +Mr. Flanegan at the Blazers stepped in to make peace. But the whole +house got into a fight, and the lights were put out, the corpse knocked +over, and the child (it was found dead in the morning) suffocated with +the weight of bodies felled in the melee. The noise and cries of murder +brought the police rushing in, and most of them were dragged off to the +Station; and the next day being Sunday, I wandered homeless and +friendless into Sheriff street. Poor English was taken in charge by the +officers. They kept him over Monday to see if any one would come up and +claim him. No one came for him; no one knew more of him than that he +went by the name of English; no one ever heard him say where he came +from--he never said a word about my mother, or whether he had a relation +in the world. He was carted off to Potter's Field and buried. That was +the last of poor English. + +"We seldom got much to eat in the Points, and I had not tasted food for +twenty-four hours. I sat down on the steps of a German grocery, and was +soon ordered away by the keeper. Then I wandered into a place they +called Nightmare's Alley, where three old wooden buildings with +broken-down verandas stood, and were inhabited principally by butchers. +I sat down on the steps of one, and thought if I only had a mother, or +some one to care for me, and give me something to eat, how happy I +should be. And I cried. And a great red-faced man came out of the house, +and took me in, and gave me something to eat. His name was Mike +Mullholland, and he was good to me, and I liked him, and took his name. +And he lived with a repulsive looking woman, in a little room he paid +ten dollars a month for. He had two big dogs, and worked at day work, in +a slaughter-house in Staunton street. The dogs were known in the +neighborhood as Mullholland's dogs, and with them I used to sleep on the +rags of carpet spread for us in the room with Mullholland and his wife, +who I got to calling mother. This is how I took the name of Mullholland. +I was glad to leave the Points, and felt as if I had a home. But there +was a 'Bottomless Pit' in Sheriff street, and though not so bad as the +one at the house of the 'Nine Nations,' it gave out a deal of gin that +the Mullhollands had a liking for. I was continually going for it, and +the Mullhollands were continually drinking it; and the whole +neighborhood liked it, and in 'Nightmare's Alley' the undertaker found a +profitable business. + +"In the morning I went with the dogs to the slaughter-house, and there +fed them, and took care of the fighting cocks, and brought gin for the +men who worked there. In the afternoon I joined the newsboys, as ragged +and neglected as myself, gambled for cents, and watched the policemen, +whom we called the Charleys. I lived with Mullholland two years, and saw +and felt enough to make hardened any one of my age. One morning there +came a loud knocking at the door, which was followed by the entrance of +two officers. The dogs had got out and bitten a child, and the officers, +knowing who owned them, had come to arrest Mullholland. We were all +surprised, for the officers recognized in Mullholland and the woman two +old offenders. And while they were dragged off to the Tombs, I was left +to prey upon the world as best I could. Again homeless, I wandered about +with urchins as ragged and destitute as myself. It seemed to me that +everybody viewed me as an object of suspicion, for I sought in vain for +employment that would give me bread and clothing. I wanted to be honest, +and would have lived honest; but I could not make people believe me +honest. And when I told who I was, and where I sheltered myself, I was +ordered away. Everybody judged me by the filthy shreds on my back; +nobody had anything for me to do. + +"I applied at a grocer's, to sweep his store and go errands. When I told +him where I had lived, he shook his head and ordered me away. Knowing I +could fill a place not unknown to me, I applied at a butcher's in Mott +street; but he pointed his knife--which left a wound in my feelings--and +ordered me away. And I was ordered away wherever I went. The doors of +the Chatham theatre looked too fine for me. My ragged condition rebuked +me wherever I went, and for more than a week I slept under a cart that +stood in Mott street. Then Tom Farley found me, and took me with him to +his cellar, in Elizabeth street, where we had what I thought a good bed +of shavings. Tom sold _Heralds_, gambled for cents, and shared with me, +and we got along. Then Tom stole a dog, and the dog got us into a deal +of trouble, which ended with getting us both into the Tombs, where Tom +was locked up. I was again adrift, as we used to call it, and thought of +poor Tom a deal. Every one I met seemed higher up in the world than I +was. But I got into Centre Market, carried baskets, and did what I could +to earn a shilling, and slept in Tom's bed, where there was some nights +fifteen and twenty like myself. + +"One morning, while waiting a job, my feet and hands benumbed with the +cold, a beautiful lady slipped a shilling into my hand and passed on. To +one penniless and hungry, it seemed a deal of money. Necessity had +almost driven me to the sign of the 'Three Martyrs,' to see what the man +of the eagle face would give me on my cap, for they said the man at the +'Three Martyrs' lent money on rags such as I had. I followed the woman, +for there was something so good in the act that I could not resist it. +She entered a fine house in Leonard street. + +"You must now go with me into the den of Hag Zogbaum, in 'Scorpion +Cove;' and 'Scorpion Cove' is in Pell street. Necessity next drove me +there. It is early spring, we will suppose; and being in the Bowery, we +find the streets in its vicinity reeking with putrid matter, hurling +pestilence into the dark dwellings of the unknown poor, and making +thankful the coffin-maker, who in turn thanks a nonundertaking +corporation for the rich harvest. The muck is everywhere deep enough +for hogs and fat aldermen to wallow in, and would serve well the +purposes of a supper-eating corporation, whose chief business it was to +fatten turtles and make Presidents. + +"We have got through the muck of the mucky Bowery. Let us turn to the +left as we ascend the hill from Chatham street, and into a narrow, +winding way, called Doyer's street. Dutch Sophy, then, as now, sits in +all the good nature of her short, fat figure, serving her customers with +ices, at three cents. Her cunning black eyes and cheerful, ruddy face, +enhance the air of pertness that has made her a favorite with her +customers. We will pass the little wooden shop, where Mr. Saunders makes +boots of the latest style, and where old lapstone, with curious framed +spectacles tied over his bleared eyes, has for the last forty years been +seen at the window trimming welts, and mending every one's sole but his +own; we will pass the four story wooden house that the landlord never +paints--that has the little square windows, and the little square door, +and the two little iron hand rails that curl so crabbedly at the ends, +and guard four crabbeder steps that give ingress and egress to its swarm +of poor but honest tenants; we will pass the shop where a short, stylish +sign tells us Mr. Robertson makes bedsteads; and the little, slanting +house a line of yellow letters on a square of black tin tells us is a +select school for young ladies, and the bright, dainty looking house +with the green shutters, where lives Mr. Vredenburg the carpenter, who, +the neighbors say, has got up in the world, and paints his house to show +that he feels above poor folks--and find we have reached the sooty and +gin-reeking grocery of Mr. Korner, who sells the _devil's elixir_ to the +sootier devils that swarm the cellars of his neighbors. The faded blue +letters, on a strip of wood nailed to the bricks over his door, tell us +he is a dealer in 'Imported and other liquors.' Next door to Mr. +Korner's tipsy looking grocery lives Mr. Muffin, the coffin-maker, who +has a large business with the disciples who look in at Korner's. Mrs. +Downey, a decent sort of body, who lives up the alley, and takes +sixpenny lodgers by the dozen, may be seen in great tribulation with her +pet pig, who, every day, much to the annoyance of Mr. Korner, manages to +get out, and into the pool of decaying matter opposite his door, where +he is sure to get stuck, and with his natural propensity, squeals +lustily for assistance. Mrs. Downey, as is her habit, gets distracted; +and having well abused Mr. Korner for his interference in a matter that +can only concern herself and the animal, ventures to her knees in the +mire, and having seized her darling pig by the two ears, does, with the +assistance of a policeman, who kindly takes him by the tail, extricate +his porkship, to the great joy of herself. The animal scampers, +grunting, up the alley, as Mr. Korner, in his shirt sleeves, throws his +broom after him, and the policeman surlily says he wishes it was the +street commissioner. + +"We have made the circle of Doyer's street, and find it fortified on +Pell street, with two decrepit wooden buildings, that the demand for the +'devil's elixir,' has converted into Dutch groceries, their exteriors +presenting the appearance of having withstood a storm of dilapidated +clapboards, broken shutters, red herrings, and onions. Mr. Voss looks +suspiciously through the broken shutters of his Gibraltar, at his +neighbor of the opposite Gibraltar, and is heard to say of his wares +that they are none of the best, and that while he sells sixpence a pint +less, the article is a shilling a pint better. And there the two +Gibraltars stand, apparently infirm, hurling their unerring missiles, +and making wreck of everything in the neighborhood. + +"We have turned down Pell street toward Mott, and on the north side a +light-colored sign, representing a smith in the act of shoeing a horse, +attracts the eye, and tells us the old cavern-like building over which +it swings, is where Mr. Mooney does smithwork and shoeing. And a little +further on, a dash of yellow and white paint on a little sign-board at +the entrance of an alley, guarded on one side by a broken-down shed, and +on the other, by a three-story, narrow, brick building (from the windows +of which trail long water-stains, and from the broken panes a dozen +curious black heads, of as many curious eyed negroes protrude), tells us +somewhat indefinitely, that Mister Mills, white-washer and wall-colorer, +may be found in the neighborhood, which, judging from outward +appearances, stands much in need of this good man's services. Just keep +your eye on the sign of the white-washer and wall-colorer, and passing +up the sickly alley it tells you Mister Mills maybe found in, you will +find yourself (having picked your way over putrid matter, and placed +your perfumed cambric where it will protect your lungs from the +inhalation of pestilential air,) in the cozy area of 'Scorpion Cove.' +Scorpion Cove is bounded at one end by a two-story wooden house, with +two decayed and broken verandas in front, and rickety steps leading here +and there to suspicious looking passages, into which, and out of which a +never-ending platoon of the rising generation crawl and toddle, keep up +a cheap serenade, and like rats, scamper away at the sight of a +stranger; and on the other, by the back of the brick house with the +negro-headed front. At the sides are two broken-down board fences, and +forming a sort of network across the cove, are an innumerable quantity +of unoccupied clothes-lines, which would seem only to serve the +mischievous propensities of young negroes and the rats. There is any +quantity of rubbish in 'Scorpion Cove,' and any amount of +disease-breeding cesspools; but the corporation never heard of 'Scorpion +Cove,' and wouldn't look into it if it had. If you ask me how it came to +be called 'Scorpion Cove,' I will tell you. The brick house at one end +was occupied by negroes; and the progeny of these negroes swarmed over +the cove, and were called scorpions. The old house of the verandas at +the other end, and which had an air of being propped up after a shock of +paralysis, was inhabited by twenty or more families, of the Teutonic +race, whose numerous progeny, called the hedge-hogs, were more than a +match for the scorpions, and with that jealousy of each other which +animates these races did the scorpions and hedge-hogs get at war. In the +morning the scorpions would crawl up through holes in the cellar, +through broken windows, through the trap-doors, down the long stairway +that wound from the second and third stories over the broken pavilion, +and from nobody could tell where--for they came, it seems, from every +rat-hole, and with rolling white eyes, marshalled themselves for battle. +The hedge-hogs mustering in similar strength, and springing up from no +one could tell where, would set upon the scorpions, and after a goodly +amount of wallowing in the mire, pulling hair and wool, scratching faces +and pommeling noses, the scorpions being alternately the victors and +vanquished, the war would end at the appearance of Hag Zogbaum, who, +with her broom, would cause the scorpions to beat a hasty retreat. The +hedge-hogs generally came off victorious, for they were the stronger +race. But the old hedge-hogs got much shattered in time by the +broadsides of the two Gibraltars, which sent them broadside on into the +Tombs. And this passion of the elder hedge-hogs for getting into the +Tombs, caused by degrees a curtailing of the younger hedge-hogs. And +this falling off in the forces of the foe, singularly inspirited the +scorpions, who mustered courage, and after a series of savage battles, +in which there was a notorious amount of wool-pulling, gained the day. +And this is how 'Scorpion Cove' got its name. + +"Hag Zogbaum lived in the cellar of the house with the verandas; and old +Dan Sullivan and the rats had possession of the garret. In the cellar of +this woman, whose trade was the fostering of crime in children as +destitute as myself, there was a bar and a back cellar, where as many as +twenty boys and girls slept on straw and were educated in vice. She took +me into her nursery, and I was glad to get there, for I had no other +place to go. + +"In the morning we were sent out to pilfer, to deceive the credulous, +and to decoy others to the den. Some were instructed by Hag Zogbaum to +affect deaf and dumb, to plead the starving condition of our parents, +to, in a word, enlist the sympathies of the credulous with an hundred +different stories. We were all stimulated by a premium being held out to +the most successful. Some were sent out to steal pieces of iron, brass, +copper, and old junk; and these Hag Zogbaum would sell or give to the +man who kept the junk-shop in Stanton street, known as the rookery at +the corner. (This man lived with Hag Zogbaum.) We returned at night with +our booty, and received our wages in gin or beer. The unsuccessful were +set down as victims of bad luck. Now and then the old woman would call +us a miserable lot of wretches she was pestered to take care of. At one +time there were in this den of wretchedness fifteen girls from seven to +eleven years old, and seven boys under eleven--all being initiated into +the by-ways of vice and crime. Among the girls were Italians, Germans, +Irish, and--shall I say it?--Americans! It was curious to see what means +the old hag would resort to for the purpose of improving their features +after they had arrived at a certain age. She had a purpose in this; and +that purpose sprang from that traffic in depravity caused by the demands +of a depraved society, a theme on her lips continually." + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +A CONTINUATION OF GEORGE MULLHOLLAND'S HISTORY. + + +"Having served well the offices of felons and impostors, Hag Zogbaum +would instruct her girls in the mysteries of licentiousness. When they +reached a certain age, their personal appearance was improved, and one +by one they were passed into the hands of splendidly-dressed ladies, as +we then took them to be, who paid a sum for them to Hag Zogbaum, and +took them away; and that was the last we saw of them. They had no desire +to remain in their miserable abode, and were only too glad to get away +from it. In most cases they were homeless and neglected orphans; and +knowing no better condition, fell easy victims to the snares set for +them. + +"It was in this dark, cavern-like den--in this mysterious caldron of +precocious depravity, rioting unheeded in the very centre of a great +city, whose boasted wealth and civilization it might put to shame, if +indeed it were capable of shame, I first met the child of beauty, Anna +Bonard. Yes!--the Anna Bonard you now see at the house of Madame +Flamingo. At that time she was but seven years old--a child of uncommon +beauty and aptness, of delicate but well-proportioned features, of +middle stature, and a face that care might have made charming beyond +comparison. But vice hardens, corrodes, and gives a false hue to the +features. Anna said she was an orphan. How far this was true I know +not. A mystery shrouded the way in which she fell into the hands of Hag +Zogbaum. Hag Zogbaum said she got her of an apple-woman; and the +apple-woman kept a stand in West street, but never would disclose how +she came by Anna. And Mr. Tom Toddleworth, who was the chronicle of the +Points, and used to look into 'Scorpion Cove' now and then, and inquire +about Anna, as if he had a sort of interest in her, they said knew all +about her. But if he did, he always kept it a secret between himself and +Hag Zogbaum. + +"She was always of a melancholy turn, used to say life was but a burden +to her--that she could see nothing in the future that did not seem dark +and tortuous. The lot into which she was cast of necessity others might +have mistaken for that which she had chosen. It was not. The hard hand +of necessity had forced her into this quicksand of death; the +indifference of a naturally generous community, robbed her of the light +of intelligence, and left her a helpless victim in the hands of this +cultivator of vice. How could she, orphan as she was called, and +unencouraged, come to be a noble and generous-hearted woman? No one +offered her the means to come up and ornament her sex; but tyrannical +society neither forgets her misfortunes nor forgives her errors. Once +seal the death-warrant of a woman's errors, and you have none to come +forward and cancel it; the tomb only removes the seal. Anna took a +liking to me, and was kind to me, and looked to me to protect her. And I +loved her, and our love grew up, and strengthened; and being alike +neglected in the world, our condition served as the strongest means of +cementing our attachment. + +"Hag Zogbaum then sent Anna away to the house up the alley, in Elizabeth +street, where she sent most of her girls when they had reached the age +of eleven and twelve. Hag Zogbaum had many places for her female pupils. +The very best looking always went a while to the house in the alley; the +next best looking were sure to find their way into the hands of Miss +Brown, in Little Water street, and Miss Brown, they said, sold them to +the fairies of the South, who dressed them in velvet and gold; and the +'scrubs,' as the old woman used to call the rest, got, by some +mysterious process, into the hands of Paddy Pie and Tim Branahan, who +kept shantees in Orange street. + +"Anna had been away some time, and Mr. Tom Toddleworth had several times +been seen to look in and inquire for her. Mr. Toddleworth said he had a +ripping bid for her. At that time I was ignorant of its meaning. Harry +Rooney and me were sent to the house in Elizabeth street, one morning, +to bring Anna and another girl home. The house was large, and had an air +of neatness about it that contrasted strangely with the den in 'Scorpion +Cove.' We rang the bell and inquired for the girls, who, after waiting +nearly an hour, were sent down to us, clean and neatly dressed. In Anna +the change was so great, that though I had loved her, and thought of her +day and night during her absence, I scarce recognized her. So glad did +she seem to see me that she burst into tears, flung her arms about my +neck, and kissed me with the fondness of a sister. Then she recounted +with childlike enthusiasm the kind treatment she had received at the +house of Madame Harding (for such it was called), between whom and Hag +Zogbaum there was carried on a species of business I am not inclined to +designate here. Two kind and splendidly-dressed ladies, Anna said, +called to see them nearly every day, and were going to take them away, +that they might live like fairies all the rest of their lives. + +"When we got home, two ladies were waiting at the den. It was not the +first time we had seen them at the den. Anna recognized them as the +ladies she had seen at Madame Harding's. One was the woman who so kindly +gave me the shilling in the market, when I was cold and hungry. A +lengthy whispering took place between Hag Zogbaum and the ladies, and we +were ordered into the back cellar. I knew the whispering was about Anna; +and watching through the boards I heard the Hag say Anna was fourteen +and nothing less, and saw one of the ladies draw from her purse numerous +pieces of gold, which were slipped into her hand. In a few minutes more +I saw poor little Anna follow her up the steps that led into 'Scorpion +Cove.' When we were released Hag was serving ragged and dejected-looking +men with gin and beer. Anna, she said when I inquired, had gone to a +good home in the country. I loved her ardently, and being lonesome was +not content with the statement of the old woman. I could not read, but +had begun to think for myself, and something told me all was not right. +For weeks and months I watched at the house in Leonard street, into +which I had followed the woman who gave me the shilling. But I neither +saw her nor the woman. Elegant carriages, and elegantly-dressed men +drove to and from the door, and passed in and out of the house, and the +house seemed to have a deal of fashionable customers, and that was all I +knew of it then. + +"As I watched one night, a gentleman came out of the house, took me by +the arm and shook me, said I was a loitering vagrant, that he had seen +me before, and having a suspicious look he would order the watch to lock +me up. He inquired where my home was; and when I told him it was in +'Scorpion Cove,' he replied he didn't know where that was. I told him it +wasn't much of a home, and he said I ought to have a better one. It was +all very well to say so; but with me the case was different. That night +I met Tom Farley, who was glad to see me, and told how he got out of the +lock-up, and what he thought of the lock-up, and the jolly old Judge who +sent him to the lock-up, and who he saw in the lock-up, and what +mischief was concocted in the lock-up, and what he got to eat in the +lock-up, and how the lock-up wasn't so bad a place after all. + +"The fact was I was inclined to think the lock-up not so bad a place to +get into, seeing how they gave people something good to eat, and clothes +to wear. Tom and me went into business together. We sold _Heralds_ and +Sunday papers, and made a good thing of it, and shared our earnings, and +got enough to eat and some clothes. I took up my stand in Centre Market, +and Tom took up his at Peck Slip. At night we would meet, count our +earnings, and give them to Mr. Crogan, who kept the cellar in Water +street, where we slept. I left Hag Zogbaum, who we got to calling the +wizard. She got all we could earn or pilfer, and we got nothing for our +backs but a few rags, and unwholesome fish and beer for our bellies. I +thought of Anna day and night; I hoped to meet in Centre Market the +woman who took her away. + +"I said no one ever looked in at the den in 'Scorpion Cove,' but there +was a kind little man, with sharp black eyes, and black hair, and an +earnest olive-colored face, and an earnester manner about him, who used +to look in now and then, talk kindly to us, and tell us he wished he had +a home for us all, and was rich enough to give us all enough to eat. He +hated Hag Zogbaum, and Hag Zogbaum hated him; but we all liked him +because he was kind to us, and used to shake his head, and say he would +do something for us yet. Hag Zogbaum said he was always meddling with +other people's business. At other times a man would come along and throw +tracts in at the gate of the alley. We were ignorant of what they were +intended for, and used to try to sell them at the Gibraltars. Nobody +wanted them, and nobody could read at the den, so Hag Zogbaum lighted +the fire with them, and that was the end of them. + +"Well, I sold papers for nearly two years, and learned to read a little +by so doing, and got up in the world a little; and being what was called +smart, attracted the attention of a printer in Nassau street, who took +me into his office, and did well by me. My mind was bent on getting a +trade. I knew I could do well for myself with a trade to lean upon. Two +years I worked faithfully at the printer's, was approaching manhood, and +with the facilities it afforded me had not failed to improve my mind and +get a tolerable good knowledge of the trade. But the image of Anna, and +the singular manner in which she disappeared, made me unhappy. + +"On my return from dinner one day I met in Broadway the lady who took +Anna away. The past and its trials flashed across my brain, and I turned +and followed her--found that her home was changed to Mercer street, and +this accounted for my fruitless watching in Leonard street. + +"The love of Anna, that had left its embers smouldering in my bosom, +quickened, and seemed to burn with redoubled ardor. It was my first and +only love; the sufferings of our childhood had made it lasting. My very +emotion rose to action as I saw the woman I knew took her away. My +anxiety to know her fate had no bounds. Dressing myself up as +respectably as it was possible with my means, I took advantage of a dark +and stormy night in the month of November to call at the house in Mercer +street, into which I had traced the lady. I rung the bell; a +sumptuously-dressed woman came to the door, which opened into a +gorgeously-decorated hall. She looked at me with an inquiring eye and +disdainful frown, inquired who I was and what I wanted. I confess I was +nervous, for the dazzling splendor of the mansion produced in me a +feeling of awe rather than admiration. I made known my mission as best I +could; the woman said no such person had ever resided there. In that +moment of disappointment I felt like casting myself away in despair. The +associations of Scorpion Cove, of the house of the Nine Nations, of the +Rookery, of Paddy Pie's--or any other den in that desert of death that +engulphs the Points, seemed holding out a solace for the melancholy that +weighed me down. But when I got back into Broadway my resolution gained +strength, and with it I wept over the folly of my thoughts. + +"Led by curiosity, and the air of comfort pervading the well-furnished +room, and the piously-disposed appearance of the persons who passed in +and out, I had several times looked in at the house of the 'Foreign +Missions,' as we used to call it. A man with a good-natured face used to +sit in the chair, and a wise-looking little man in spectacles (the +Secretary) used to sit a bit below him, and a dozen or two +well-disposed persons of both sexes, with sharp and anxious +countenances, used to sit round in a half circle, listening. The +wise-looking man in the spectacles would, on motion of some one present, +read a long report, which was generally made up of a list of donations +and expenditures for getting up a scheme to evangelize the world, and +get Mr. Singleton Spyke off to Antioch. It seemed to me as if a deal of +time and money was expended on Mr. Singleton Spyke, and yet Mr. Spyke +never got off to Antioch. When the man of the spectacles got through +reading the long paper, and the good-natured man in the chair got +through explaining that the heavy amount of twenty-odd thousand dollars +had been judiciously expended for the salary of officers of the society, +and the getting Brothers Spurn and Witherspoon off to enlighten the +heathen, Brother Singleton Spyke's mission would come up. Every one +agreed that there ought to be no delay in getting Brother Spyke off to +Antioch; but a small deficiency always stood in the way. And Brother +Spyke seemed spiked to this deficiency; for notwithstanding Mrs. Slocum, +who was reckoned the strongest-minded woman, and best business-man of +the society, always made speeches in favor of Brother Spyke and his +mission (a special one), he never got off to Antioch. + +"Feeling forlorn, smarting under disappointment, and undecided where to +go after I left the house in Mercer street, I looked in at the house of +the 'Foreign Missions.' Mrs. Slocum, as I had many times before seen +her, was warmly contesting a question concerning Brother Spyke, with the +good-natured man in the chair. It was wrong, she said, so much money +should be expended, and Brother Spyke not got off to Antioch. So leaving +them debating Mr. Spyke's mission to Antioch, I proceeded back to the +house in Mercer street, and inquired for the landlady of the house. The +landlady, the woman that opened the door said, was engaged. The door was +shut in my face, and I turned away more wounded in my feelings than +before. Day and night I contemplated some plan by which to ascertain +Anna's place of abode, her pursuit in life, her wants. When we parted +she could neither write nor read: I had taken writing lessons, by which +I could communicate tolerably well, while my occupation afforded me the +means of improvement. A few weeks passed (I continued to watch the +house), and I recognized her one afternoon, by her black, floating hair, +sitting at a second-story window of the house in Mercer street, her back +toward me. The sight was like electricity on my feelings; a transport of +joy bore away my thoughts. I gazed, and continued to gaze upon the +object, throwing, as it were, new passion into my soul. But it turned, +and there was a changed face, a face more lovely, looking eagerly into a +book. Looking eagerly into a book did not betray one who could not read. +But there was that in my heart that prompted me to look on the favorable +side of the doubt--to try a different expedient in gaining admittance to +the house. When night came, I assumed a dress those who look on +mechanics as vulgar people, would have said became a gentleman; and +approaching the house, gained easy admittance. As I was about entering +the great parlors, a familiar but somewhat changed voice at the top of +the circling stairs that led from the hall caught my ear. I paused, +listened, became entranced with suspense. Again it resounded--again my +heart throbbed with joy. It was Anna's voice, so soft and musical. The +woman who opened the door turned from me, and attempted to hush it. But +Anna seemed indifferent to the admonition, for she tripped buoyantly +down stairs, accompanying a gentleman to the door. I stood before her, a +changed person. Her recognition of me was instantaneous. Her color +changed, her lips quivered, her eyes filled with tears, her very soul +seemed fired with emotions she had no power to resist. 'George +Mullholland!' she exclaimed, throwing her arms about my neck, kissing +me, and burying her head in my bosom, and giving vent to her feelings in +tears and quickened sobs--'how I have thought of you, watched for you, +and hoped for the day when we would meet again and be happy. Oh, George! +George! how changed everything seems since we parted! It seems a long +age, and yet our sufferings, and the fondness for each other that was +created in that suffering, freshens in the mind. Dear, good George--my +protector!' she continued, clinging to me convulsively. I took her in my +arms (the scene created no little excitement in the house) and bore her +away to her chamber, which was chastely furnished, displaying a correct +taste, and otherwise suited to a princess. Having gained her presence of +mind, and become calm, she commenced relating what had occurred since we +parted at Scorpion Cove. I need not relate it at length here, for it was +similar in character to what might be told by a thousand others if they +were not powerless. For months she had been confined to the house, her +love of dress indulged to the furthest extent, her mind polluted and +initiated into the mysteries of refined licentiousness, her personal +appearance scrupulously regarded, and made to serve the object of which +she was a victim in the hands of the hostess, who made her the worse +than slave to a banker of great respectability in Wall street. This +good man and father was well down in the vale of years, had a mansion on +Fifth Avenue, and an interesting and much-beloved family. He was, in +addition, a prominent member of the commercial community; but his +example to those more ready to imitate the errors of men in high +positions, than to improve by the examples of the virtuous poor, was not +what it should be. Though a child of neglect, and schooled to +licentiousness under the very eye of a generous community, her natural +sensibility recoiled at the thought that she was a mere object of prey +to the passions of one she could not love. + +"She resolved to remain in this condition no longer, and escaped to +Savannah with a young man whose acquaintance she had made at the house +in Mercer street. For a time they lived at a respectable hotel, as +husband and wife. But her antecedents got out, and they got notice to +leave. The same fate met them in Charleston, to which city they removed. +Her antecedents seemed to follow her wherever she went, like haunting +spirits seeking her betrayal. She was homeless; and without a home there +was nothing open to her but that vortex of licentiousness the world +seemed pointing her to. Back she went to the house in Mercer street--was +glad to get back; was at least free from the finger of scorn. +Henceforward she associated with various friends, who sought her because +of her transcendent charms. She had cultivated a natural intelligence, +and her manners were such as might have become one in better society. +But her heart's desire was to leave the house. I took her from it; and +for a time I was happy to find that the contaminating weeds of vice had +not overgrown the more sensitive buds of virtue. + +"I provided a small tenement in Centre street, such as my means would +afford, and we started in the world, resolved to live respectably. But +what had maintained me respectably was now found inadequate to the +support of us both. Life in a house of sumptuous vice had rendered Anna +incapable of adapting herself to the extreme of economy now forced upon +us. Anna was taken sick; I was compelled to neglect my work, and was +discharged. Discontent, embarrassment, and poverty resulted. I struggled +to live for six months; but my prospects, my hopes of gaining an honest +living, were gone. I had no money to join the society, and the trade +being dull, could get nothing to do. Fate seemed driving us to the last +stage of distress. One by one our few pieces of furniture, our clothing, +and the few bits of jewelry Anna had presented her at the house in +Mercer street, found their way to the sign of the Three Martyrs. The man +of the eagle face would always lend something on them, and that +something relieved us for the time. I many times thought, as I passed +the house of the Foreign Missions in Centre street, where there was such +an air of comfort, that if Mrs. Abijah Slocum, and the good-natured man +who sat in the chair, and the wise little man in the spectacles, would +condescend to look in at our little place, and instead of always talking +about getting Mr. Singleton Spyke off to Antioch, take pity on our +destitution, what a relief it would be. It would have made more hearts +happy than Mr. Spyke, notwithstanding the high end of his mission, could +have softened in ten years at Antioch. + +"Necessity, not inclination, forced Anna back into the house in Mercer +street, when I became her friend, her transient protector. Her hand was +as ready to bestow as her heart was warm and generous. She gave me +money, and was kind to me; but the degraded character of my position +caused me to despond, to yield myself a victim to insidious vice, to +become the associate of men whose only occupation was that of gambling +and 'roping-in' unsuspecting persons. I was not long in becoming an +efficient in the arts these men practiced on the unwary. We used to meet +at the 'Subterranean,' in Church street, and there concoct our mode of +operations. And from this centre went forth, daily, men who lived by +gambling, larceny, picking pockets, counterfeiting, and passing +counterfeit money. I kept Anna ignorant of my associations. Nevertheless +I was forced to get money, for I found her affections becoming +perverted. At times her manner towards me was cold, and I sought to +change it with money. + +"While thus pursuing a life so precarious and exciting, I used to look +in at the 'Empire,' in Broadway, to see whom I could 'spot,' as we +called it at the 'Subterranean.' And it was here I met poor Tom Swiggs, +distracted and giving himself up to drink, in the fruitless search after +the girl of his love, from whom he had been separated, as he said, by +his mother. He had loved the girl, and the girl returned his love with +all the sincerity and ardor of her soul. But she was poor, and of poor +parents. And as such people were reckoned nothing in Charleston, his +mother locked him up in jail, and she was got out of the way. Tom opened +his heart to me, said foul means had been resorted to, and the girl had +thrown herself away, because, while he was held in close confinement, +falsehoods had been used to make her believe he had abandoned her. To +have her an outcast on his account, to have her leading the life of an +abandoned woman, and that with the more galling belief that he had +forsaken her, was more than he could bear, and he was sinking under the +burden. Instead of making him an object of my criminal profession, his +story so touched my feelings that I became his protector, saw him to his +lodgings in Green street, and ultimately got him on board a vessel bound +to Charleston. + +"Not many weeks after this, I, being moneyless, was the principal of a +plot by which nearly a thousand dollars was got of the old man in Wall +street, who had been Anna's friend; and fearing it might get out, I +induced her to accompany me to Charleston, where she believed I had a +prospect of bettering my condition, quitting my uncertain mode of +living, and becoming a respectable man. Together we put up at the +Charleston Hotel. But necessity again forced me to reveal to her my +circumstances, and the real cause of my leaving New York. Her hopes of +shaking off the taint of her former life seemed blasted; but she bore +the shock with resignation, and removed with me to the house of Madame +Flamingo, where we for a time lived privately. But the Judge sought her +out, followed her with the zeal of a knight, and promised, if she would +forsake me, to be her protector; to provide for her and maintain her +like a lady during her life. What progress he has made in carrying out +his promise you have seen. The English baronet imposed her upon the St. +Cecilia, and the Judge was the first to betray her." + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +IN WHICH THE READER IS INTRODUCED TO MR. ABSALOM McARTHUR. + + +You must know, reader, that King street is our Boulevard of fashion; and +though not the handsomest street in the world, nor the widest, nor the +best paved, nor the most celebrated for fine edifices, we so cherish its +age and dignity that we would not for the world change its provincial +name, or molest one of the hundred old tottering buildings that daily +threaten a dissolution upon its pavement, or permit a wench of doubtful +blood to show her head on the "north sidewalk" during promenade hours. +We are, you see, curiously nice in matters of color, and we should be. +You may not comprehend the necessity for this scrupulous regard to +caste; others do not, so you are not to blame for your ignorance of the +customs of an atmosphere you have only breathed through novels written +by steam. We don't (and you wouldn't) like to have our wives meet our +slightly-colored mistresses. And we are sure you would not like to have +your highly-educated and much-admired daughters meet those cream-colored +material evidences of your folly--called by Northern "fanatics" their +half-sisters! You would not! And your wives, like sensible women, as our +wives and daughters are, would, if by accident they did meet them, never +let you have a bit of sleep until you sent them to old Graspum's +flesh-market, had them sold, and the money put safely into their hands. +We do these things just as you would; and our wives being philosophers, +and very fashionable withal, put the money so got into fine dresses, and +a few weeks' stay at some very select watering-place in the North. If +your wife be very accomplished, (like ours,) and your daughters much +admired for their beauty, (like ours,) they will do as ours did--put +wisely the cash got for their detestable relatives into a journey of +inspection over Europe. So, you see, we keep our fashionable side of +King street; and woe be to the shady mortal that pollutes its bricks! + +Mr. Absalom McArthur lives on the unfashionable side of this street, in +a one-story wooden building, with a cottage roof, covered with thick, +black moss, and having two great bow windows, and a very lean door, +painted black, in front. It is a rummy old house to look at, for the +great bow windows are always ornamented with old hats, which Mr. +McArthur makes supply the place of glass; and the house itself, +notwithstanding it keeps up the dignity of a circular window over the +door, reminds one of that valiant and very notorious characteristic of +the State, for it has, during the last twenty or more years, threatened +(but never done it) to tumble upon the unfashionable pavement, just in +like manner as the State has threatened (but never done it!) to tumble +itself out of our unfashionable Union. We are a great people, you see; +but having the impediment of the Union in the way of displaying our +might, always stand ready to do what we never intended to do. We speak +in that same good-natured sense and metaphor used by our politicians, +(who are become very distinguished in the refined arts of fighting and +whiskey-drinking,) when they call for a rope to put about the neck of +every man not sufficiently stupid to acknowledge himself a secessionist. +We imagine ourselves the gigantic and sublime theatre of chivalry, as we +have a right to do; we raise up heroes of war and statesmanship, +compared with whom your Napoleons, Mirabeaus, and Marats--yes, even your +much-abused Roman orators and Athenian philosophers, sink into mere +insignificance. Nor are we bad imitators of that art displayed by the +Roman soldiers, when they entered the Forum and drenched it with +Senatorial blood! Pardon this digression, reader. + +Of a summer morning you will see McArthur, the old Provincialist, as he +is called, arranging in his great bow windows an innumerable variety of +antique relics, none but a Mrs. Toodles could conceive a want for--such +as broken pots, dog-irons, fenders, saws, toasters, stew-pans, old +muskets, boxing-gloves and foils, and sundry other odds and ends too +numerous to mention. At evening he sits in his door, a clever picture of +a by-gone age, on a venerable old sofa, supported on legs tapering into +feet of lion's paws, and carved in mahogany, all tacked over with +brass-headed nails. Here the old man sits, and sits, and sits, reading +the "Heroes of the Revolution," (the only book he ever reads,) and +seemingly ready at all times to serve the "good wishes" of his +customers, who he will tell you are of the very first families, and very +distinguished! He holds distinguished peoples in high esteem; and +several distinguished persons have no very bad opinion of him, but a +much better one of his very interesting daughter, whose acquaintance +(though not a lady, in the Southern acceptation of the term) they would +not object to making--provided! + +His little shop is lumbered with boxes and barrels, all containing +relics of a by-gone age--such as broken swords, pistols of curious make, +revolutionary hand-saws, planes, cuirasses, broken spurs, blunderbusses, +bowie, scalping, and hunting-knives; all of which he declares our great +men have a use for. Hung on a little post, and over a pair of rather +suspicious-looking buckskin breeches, is a rusty helmet, which he +sincerely believes was worn by a knight of the days of William the +Conqueror. A little counter to the left staggers under a pile of musty +old books and mustier papers, all containing valuable matter relating to +the old Continentals, who, as he has it, were all Carolinians. (Dispute +this, and he will go right into a passion.) Resting like good-natured +policemen against this weary old counter are two sympathetic old +coffins, several second-hand crutches, and a quantity of much-neglected +wooden legs. These Mr. McArthur says are in great demand with our first +families. No one, except Mr. Soloman Snivel, knows better what the +chivalry stand in need of to prop up its declining dignity. His dirty +little shelves, too, are stuffed with those cheap uniforms the State so +grudgingly voted its unwilling volunteers during the Revolution.[1] +Tucked in here and there, at sixes and sevens, are the scarlet and blue +of several suits of cast-off theatrical wardrobe he got of Abbott, and +now loans for a small trifle to Madame Flamingo and the St. Cecilia +Society--the first, when she gives her very seductive _balmasques_; the +second, when distinguished foreigners with titles honor its costume +balls. As for Revolutionary cocked hats, epaulettes, plumes, and +holsters, he has enough to supply and send off, feeling as proud as +peacocks, every General and Colonel in the State--and their name, as +you ought to know, reader, is legion. + +[Footnote 1: See Senator Sumner's speech in Congress on Plantation +manners.] + +The stranger might, indeed, be deceived into the belief that Absalom +McArthur's curiosity shop was capable of furnishing accoutrements for +that noble little army, (standing army we call it!) on which the State +prides itself not a little, and spends no end of money. For ourselves, +(if the reader but permit us,) we have long admired this little Spartan +force, saying all the good things of it our prosy brain could invent, +and in the kindest manner recommending its uniform good character as a +model for our very respectable society to fashion after. Indeed, we +have, in the very best nature of a modern historian, endeavored to +enlighten the barbarian world outside of South Carolina as to the +terrible consequences which might accrue to the Union did this noble +little army assume any other than a standing character. Now that General +Jackson is out of the way, and our plebeian friends over the Savannah, +whom we hold in high esteem, (the Georgians,) kindly consent to let us +go our own road out of the Union, nothing can be more grateful than to +find our wise politicians sincerely believing that when this standing +army, of which other States know so little, shall have become allied +with those mighty men of Beaufort, dire consequences to this young but +very respectable Federal compact will be the result. Having discharged +the duties of a historian, for the benefit of those benighted beings +unfortunate enough to live out of our small but highly-civilized State, +we must return to McArthur. + +He is a little old-maidish about his age, which for the last twenty +years has not got a day more than fifty-four. Being as sensitive of his +veracity as the State is of its dignity, we would not, either by +implication or otherwise, lay an impeachment at his door, but rather +charge the discrepancy to that sin (a treacherous memory) the legal +gentry find so convenient for their purposes when they knock down their +own positions. McArthur stood five feet eight exactly, when young, but +age has made him lean of person, and somewhat bent. His face is long and +corrugated; his expression of countenance singularly serious. A nose, +neither aquiline nor Grecian, but large enough, and long enough, and red +enough at the end, to make both; a sharp and curiously-projecting chin, +that threatens a meeting, at no very distant day, with his nasal organ; +two small, watchful blue eyes deep-set under narrow arches, fringed with +long gray lashes; a deeply-furrowed, but straight and contracted +forehead, and a shaggy red wig, poised upon the crown of his head, and, +reader, if you except the constant working of a heavy, drooping lower +lip, and the diagonal sight with which his eyes are favored, you have +his most prominent features. Fashion he holds in utter contempt, nor has +he the very best opinion in the world of our fashionable tailors, who +are grown so rich that they hold mortgages on the very best plantations +in the State, and offer themselves candidates for the Governorship. +Indeed, Mr. McArthur says, one of these knights of the goose, not long +since, had the pertinacity to imagine himself a great General. And to +show his tenacious adherence to the examples set by the State, he +dresses exactly as his grandfather's great-grandfather used to, in a +blue coat, with small brass buttons, a narrow crimpy collar, and tails +long enough and sharp enough for a clipper-ship's run. The periods when +he provided himself with new suits are so far apart that they formed +special episodes in his history; nevertheless there is always an air of +neatness about him, and he will spend much time arranging a dingy +ruffled shirt, a pair of gray trowsers, a black velvet waistcoat, cut in +the Elizabethan style, and a high, square shirt collar, into which his +head has the appearance of being jammed. This collar he ties with a +much-valued red and yellow Spittlefields, the ends of which flow over +his ruffle. Although the old man would not bring much at the +man-shambles, we set a great deal of store by him, and would not +exchange him for anything in the world but a regiment or two of heroic +secessionists. Indeed we are fully aware that nothing like him exists +beyond the highly perfumed atmosphere of our State. And to many other +curious accomplishments the old man adds that of telling fortunes. The +negroes seriously believe he has a private arrangement with the devil, +of whom he gets his wisdom, and the secret of propitiating the gods. + +Two days have passed since the _emeute_ at the house of the old hostess. +McArthur has promised the young missionary a place for Tom Swiggs, when +he gets out of prison (but no one but his mother seems to have a right +to let him out), and the tall figure of Mister Snivel is seen entering +the little curiosity shop. "I say!--my old hero, has she been here yet?" +inquires Mr. Snivel, the accommodation man. "Nay, good friend," returns +the old man, rising from his sofa, and returning the salutation, "she +has not yet darkened the door." The old man draws the steel-bowed +spectacles from his face, and watches with a patriarchal air any change +that comes over the accommodation man's countenance. "Now, good friend, +if I did but know the plot," pursues the old man. + +"The plot you are not to know! I gave you her history yesterday--that +is, as far as I know it. You must make up the rest. You know how to tell +fortunes, old boy. I need not instruct you. Mind you flatter her beauty, +though--extend on the kindness of the Judge, and be sure you get it in +that it was me who betrayed her at the St. Cecelia. All right old boy, +eh?" and shaking McArthur by the hand warmly, he takes his departure, +bowing himself into the street. The old man says he will be all ready +when she comes. + +Scarcely has the accommodation man passed out of sight when a +sallow-faced stripling makes his appearance, and with that +characteristic effrontery for borrowing and never returning, of the +property-man of a country theatre, "desires" to know if Mr. McArthur +will lend him a skull. + +"A skull!" ejaculates the old man, his bony fingers wandering to his +melancholy lip--"a skull!" and he fusses studiously round the little +cell-like place, looking distrustfully at the property-man, and then +turning an anxious eye towards his piles of rubbish, as if fearing some +plot is on foot to remove them to the infernal regions. + +"You see," interrupts Mr. Property, "we play Hamlet to-night--expect a +crammed house--and our star, being scrupulous of his reputation, as all +small stars are, won't go on for the scene of the grave-digger, without +two skulls--he swears he won't! He raised the very roof of the theatre +this morning, because his name wasn't in bigger type on the bill. And if +we don't give him two skulls and plenty of bones to-night, he +swears--and such swearing as it is!--he'll forfeit the manager, have the +house closed, and come out with a card to the public in the morning. We +are in a fix, you see! The janitor only has one, and he lent us that as +if he didn't want to." + +Mr. McArthur says he sees, and with an air of regained wisdom stops +suddenly, and takes from a shelf a dingy old board, on which is a +dingier paper, bearing curious inscriptions, no one but the old man +himself would have supposed to be a schedule of stock in trade. Such it +is, nevertheless. He rubs his spectacles, places them methodically upon +his face, wipes and wipes the old board with his elbow. "It's here if +it's anywhere!" says the old man, with a sigh. "It comes into my head +that among the rest of my valuables I've Yorick's skull." + +"The very skull we want!" interrupts Property. And the old man quickens +the working of his lower jaw, and continues to rub at the board until he +has brought out the written mystery. "My ancestors were great people," +he mumbles to himself, "great people!" He runs the crusty forefinger of +his right hand up and down the board, adding, "and my customers are all +of the first families, which is some consolation in one's poverty. Ah! I +have it here!" he exclaims, with childlike exultation, frisking his +fingers over the board. "One Yorick's skull--a time-worn, tenantless, +and valuable relic, in which graveyard worms have banqueted more than +once. Yes, young man, presented to my ancestors by the elder Stuarts, +and on that account worth seven skulls, or more." "One Yorick's skull," +is written on the paper, upon which the old man presses firmly his +finger. Then turning to an old box standing in the little fireplace +behind the counter, saying, "it's in here--as my name's Absalom +McArthur, it is," he opens the lid, and draws forth several old military +coats (they have seen revolutionary days! he says, exultingly), numerous +scales of brass, such as are worn on British soldiers' hats, a ponderous +chapeau and epaulets, worn, he insists, by Lord Nelson at the renowned +battle of Trafalgar. He has not opened, he adds, this box for more than +twelve long years. Next he drags forth a military cloak of great weight +and dimensions. "Ah!" he exclaims, with nervous joy, "here's the +identical cloak worn by Lord Cornwallis--how my ancestors used to prize +it." And as he unrolls its great folds there falls upon the floor, to +his great surprise, an old buff-colored silk dress, tied firmly with a +narrow, green ribbon. "Maria! Maria! Maria!" shouts the old man, as if +suddenly seized with a spasm. And his little gray eyes flash with +excitement, as he says--"if here hasn't come to light at last, poor Mag +Munday's dress. God forgive the poor wretch, she's dead and gone, no +doubt." In response to the name of "Maria" there protrudes from a little +door that opens into a passage leading to a back-room, the delicate +figure of a female, with a face of great paleness, overcast by a +thoughtful expression. She has a finely-developed head, intelligent blue +eyes, light auburn hair, and features more interesting than regular. +Indeed, there is more to admire in the peculiar modesty of her demeanor +than in the regularity of her features, as we shall show. "My daughter!" +says the old man, as she nervously advances, her pale hand extended. +"Poor woman! how she would mourn about this old dress; and say it +contained something that might give her a chance in the world," she +rather whispers than speaks, disclosing two rows of small white teeth. +She takes from the old man's hand the package, and disappears. The +anxiety she evinces over the charge discloses the fact that there is +something of deep interest connected with it. + +Mr. McArthur was about to relate how he came by this seemingly +worthless old package, when the property-man, becoming somewhat +restless, and not holding in over high respect the old man's rubbish, as +he called it in his thoughts, commences drawing forth, piece after piece +of the old relics. The old man will not allow this. "There, young man!" +he says, touching him on the elbow, and resuming his labor. At length he +draws forth the dust-tenanted skull, coated on the outer surface with +greasy mould. "There!" he says, with an unrestrained exclamation of joy, +holding up the wasting bone, "this was in its time poor Yorick's skull. +It was such a skull, when Yorick lived! Beneath this filthy remnant of +past greatness (I always think of greatness when I turn to the past), +this empty tenement, once the domain of wisdom, this poor bone, what +thoughts did not come out?" And the old man shakes his head, mutters +inarticulately, and weeps with the simplicity of a child. + +"The Star'll have skulls and bones enough to make up for his want of +talent now--I reckon," interposes the property-man. "But!--I say, +mister, this skull couldn't a bin old Yorick's, you know--" + +"Yorick's!--why not?" interrupts the old man. + +"Because Yorick--Yorick was the King's jester, you see--no nigger; and +no one would think of importing anything but a nigger's skull into +Charleston--" + +"Young man!--if this skull had consciousness; if this had a tongue it +would rebuke thee;" the old man retorts hastily, "for my ancestors knew +Yorick, and Yorick kept up an intimate acquaintance with the ancestors +of the very first families in this State, who were not shoemakers and +milliners, as hath been maliciously charged, but good and pious +Huguenots." To the end that he may convince the unbelieving Thespian of +the truth of his assertion, he commences to rub away the black coating +with the sleeve of his coat, and there, to his infinite delight, is +written, across the crown, in letters of red that stand out as bold as +the State's chivalry--"Alas! poor Yorick." Tears of sympathy trickle +down the old man's cheeks, his eyes sparkle with excitement, and with +womanly accents he mutters: "the days of poetry and chivalry are gone. +It is but a space of time since this good man's wit made Kings and +Princes laugh with joy." + +This skull, and a coral pin, which he said was presented to his +ancestors by Lord Cornwallis, who they captured, now became his hobby; +and he referred to it in all his conversation, and made them as much his +idol as our politicians do secession. In this instance, he dare not +entrust his newly-discovered jewel to the vulgar hands of Mr. Property, +but pledged his honor--a ware the State deals largely in notwithstanding +it has become exceedingly cheap--it would be forthcoming at the +requisite time. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +IN WHICH ARE MATTERS THE READER MAY HAVE ANTICIPATED. + + +Mr. Soloman Snivel has effected a reconciliation between old Judge +Sleepyhorn and the beautiful Anna Bonard, and he has flattered the +weak-minded George Mullholland into a belief that the old Judge, as he +styles him, is his very best friend. So matters go on swimmingly at the +house of Madame Flamingo. Indeed Mr. Soloman can make himself extremely +useful in any affair requiring the exercise of nice diplomatic skill--no +matter whether it be of love or law. He gets people into debt, and out +of debt; into bankruptcy and out of bankruptcy; into jail and out of +jail; into society and out of society. He has officiated in almost every +capacity but that of a sexton. If you want money, Mr. Soloman can always +arrange the little matter for you. If you have old negroes you want to +get off your hands at a low figure, he has a customer. If you want to +mortgage your negro property, a thing not uncommon with our very first +families, Mr. Soloman is your man. Are you worth a fee, and want legal +advice, he will give it exactly to your liking. Indeed, he will lie you +into the most hopeless suit, and with equal pertinacity lie you out of +the very best. Every judge is his friend and most intimate acquaintance. +He is always rollicking, frisking, and insinuating himself into +something, affects to be the most liberal sort of a companion, never +refuses to drink when invited, but never invites any one unless he has a +motive beyond friendship. Mr. Keepum, the wealthy lottery broker, who +lives over the way, in Broad street, in the house with the mysterious +signs, is his money-man. This Keepum, the man with the sharp visage and +guilty countenance, has an excellent standing in society, having got it +as the reward of killing two men. Neither of these deeds of heroism, +however, were the result of a duel. Between these worthies there exists +relations mutually profitable, if not the most honorable. And +notwithstanding Mr. Soloman is forever sounding Mr. Keepum's generosity, +the said Keepum has a singular faculty for holding with a firm grasp all +he gets, the extent of his charities being a small mite now and then to +Mr. Hadger, the very pious agent for the New York Presbyterian Tract +Society. Mr. Hadger, who by trading in things called negroes, and such +like wares, has become a man of great means, twice every year badgers +the community in behalf of this society, and chuckles over what he gets +of Keepum, as if a knave's money was a sure panacea for the cure of +souls saved through the medium of those highly respectable tracts the +society publishes to suit the tastes of the god slavery. Mr. Keepum, +too, has a very high opinion of this excellent society, as he calls it, +and never fails to boast of his contributions. + +It is night. The serene and bright sky is hung with brighter stars. Our +little fashionable world has got itself arrayed in its best satin--and +is in a flutter. Carriages, with servants in snobby coats, beset the +doors of the theatre. A flashing of silks, satins, brocades, tulle and +jewelry, distinguished the throng pressing eagerly into the lobbies, +and seeking with more confusion than grace seats in the dress circle. +The orchestra has played an overture, and the house presents a lively +picture of bright-colored robes. Mr. Snivel's handsome figure is seen +looming out of a private box in the left-hand proceniums, behind the +curtain of which, and on the opposite side, a mysterious hand every now +and then frisks, makes a small but prudent opening, and disappears. +Again it appears, with delicate and chastely-jeweled fingers. Cautiously +the red curtain moves aside apace, and the dark languishing eyes of a +female, scanning over the dress-circle, are revealed. She recognizes the +venerable figure of Judge Sleepyhorn, who has made a companion of George +Mullholland, and sits at his side in the parquette. Timidly she closes +the curtain. + +In the right-hand procenium box sits, resplendent of jewels and laces, +and surrounded by her many admirers, the beautiful and very fashionable +Madame Montford, a woman of singularly regular features, and more than +ordinary charms. Opinion is somewhat divided on the early history of +Madame Montford. Some have it one thing, some another. Society is sure +to slander a woman of transcendent beauty and intellect. There is +nothing in the world more natural, especially when those charms attract +fashionable admirers. It is equally true, too, that if you would wipe +out any little taint that may hang about the skirts of your character +you must seek the panacea in a distant State, where, with the +application of a little diplomacy you may become the much sought for +wonder of a new atmosphere and new friends, as is the case with Madame +Montford, who rebukes her New York neighbors of the Fifth Avenue (she +has a princely mansion there), with the fact that in Charleston she is, +whenever she visits it, the all-absorbing topic with fashionable +society. For four successive winters Madame Montford has honored the +elite of Charleston with her presence. The advent of her coming, too, +has been duly heralded in the morning papers--to the infinite delight of +the St. Cecilia Society, which never fails to distinguish her arrival +with a ball. And this ball is sure to be preceded with no end of +delicately-perfumed cards, and other missives, as full of compliments as +it is capable of cramming them. There is, notwithstanding all these +ovations in honor of her coming, a mystery hanging over her periodical +visits, for the sharp-eyed persist that they have seen her disguised, +and in suspicious places, making singular inquiries about a woman of the +name of Mag Munday. And these suspicions have given rise to whisperings, +and these whisperings have crept into the ears of several very old and +highly-respectable "first families," which said families have suddenly +dropped her acquaintance. But what is more noticeable in the features of +Madame Montford, is the striking similarity between them and Anna +Bonard's. Her most fervent admirers have noticed it; while strangers +have not failed to discover it, and to comment upon it. And the girl who +sits in the box with Mr. Snivel, so cautiously fortifying herself with +the curtain, is none other than Anna. Mr. Snivel has brought her here as +an atonement for past injuries. + +Just as the curtain is about to rise, Mr. McArthur, true to his word, +may be seen toddling to the stage door, his treasure carefully tied up +in a handkerchief. He will deliver it to no one but the manager, and in +spite of his other duties that functionary is compelled to receive it in +person. This done, the old man, to the merriment of certain wags who +delight to speculate on his childlike credulity, takes a seat in the +parquette, wipes clean his venerable spectacles, and placing them +methodically over his eyes, forms a unique picture in the foreground of +the audience. McArthur, with the aid of his glasses, can recognize +objects at a distance; and as the Hamlet of the night is decidedly +Teutonic in his appearance and pronunciation, he has no great relish for +the Star, nor a hand of applause to bestow on his genius. Hamlet, he is +sure, never articulated with a coarse brogue. So turning from the stage, +he amuses himself with minutely scanning the faces of the audience, and +resolving in his mind that something will turn up in the grave-digger's +scene, of which he is an enthusiastic admirer. It is, indeed, he thinks +to himself, very doubtful, whether in this wide world the much-abused +William Shakspeare hath a more ardent admirer of this curious but +faithful illustration of his genius. Suddenly his attention seems +riveted on the private box, in which sits the stately figure of Madame +Montford, flanked in a half-circle by her perfumed and white-gloved +admirers. "What!" exclaims the old man, in surprise, rubbing and +replacing his glasses, "if I'm not deceived! Well--I can't be. If there +isn't the very woman, a little altered, who has several times looked +into my little place of an evening. Her questions were so curious that I +couldn't make out what she really wanted (she never bought anything); +but she always ended with inquiring about poor Mag Munday. People think +because I have all sorts of things, that I must know about all sorts of +things. I never could tell her much that satisfied her, for Mag, report +had it, was carried off by the yellow fever, and nobody ever thought of +her afterwards. And because I couldn't tell this woman any more, she +would go away with tears in her eyes." Mr. McArthur whispers to a friend +on his right, and touches him on the arm, "Pooh! pooh!" returns the man, +with measured indifference, "that's the reigning belle of the +season--Madame Montford, the buxom widow, who has been just turned forty +for some years." + +The play proceeds, and soon the old man's attention is drawn from the +Widow Montford by the near approach to the scene of the grave-digger. +And as that delineator enters the grave, and commences his tune, the old +man's anxiety increases. + +A twitching and shrugging of the shoulders, discovers Mr. McArthur's +feelings. The grave-digger, to the great delight of the Star, bespreads +the stage with a multiplicity of bones. Then he follows them with a +skull, the appearance of which causes Mr. McArthur to exclaim, "Ah! +that's my poor Yorick." He rises from his seat, and abstractedly stares +at the Star, then at the audience. The audience gives out a spontaneous +burst of applause, which the Teutonic Hamlet is inclined to regard as an +indignity offered to superior talent. A short pause and his face +brightens with a smile, the grave-digger shoulders his pick, and with +the thumb of his right hand to his nasal organ, throws himself into a +comical attitude. The audience roar with delight; the Star, ignorant of +the cause of what he esteems a continued insult, waves his plumes to the +audience, and with an air of contempt walks off the stage. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +MRS. SWIGGS COMES TO THE RESCUE OF THE HOUSE OF THE FOREIGN MISSIONS. + + +"An excellent society--excellent, I assure you, Madame--" + +"Truly, Mr. Hadger," interrupted Mrs. Swiggs, "your labors on behalf of +this Tract Society will be rewarded in heaven--" + +"Dear-a-me," Mr. Hadger returns, ere Mrs. Swiggs can finish her +sentence, "don't mention such a thing. I assure you it is a labor of +love." + +"Their tracts are so carefully got up. If my poor old negro property +could only read--(Mrs. Swiggs pauses.) I was going to say--if it wasn't +for the law (again she pauses), we couldn't prejudice our cause by +letting our negroes read them--" + +"Excuse the interruption," Mr. Hadger says, "but it wouldn't, do, +notwithstanding (no one can be more liberal than myself on the subject +of enlightening our negro property!) the Tract Society exhibits such an +unexceptionable regard to the requirements of our cherished +institution." + +This conversation passes between Mrs. Swiggs and Mr. Hadger, who, as he +says with great urbanity of manner, just dropped in to announce joyous +tidings. He has a letter from Sister Abijah Slocum, which came to hand +this morning, enclosing one delicately enveloped for Sister Swiggs. +"The Lord is our guide," says Mrs. Swiggs, hastily reaching out her hand +and receiving the letter. "Heaven will reward her for the interest she +takes in the heathen world." + +"Truly, if she hath not now, she will have there a monument of gold," +Mr. Hadger piously pursues, adding a sigh. + +"There! there!--my neuralgy; it's all down my left side. I'm not long +for this world, you see!" Mrs. Swiggs breaks out suddenly, then twitches +her head and oscillates her chin. And as if some electric current had +changed the train of her thoughts, she testily seizes hold of her +Milton, and says: "I have got my Tom up again--yes I have, Mr. Hadger." + +Mr. Hadger discovers the sudden flight her thoughts have taken: "I am +sure," he interposes, "that so long as Sister Slocum remains a member of +the Tract Society we may continue our patronage." + +Mrs. Swiggs is pleased to remind Mr. Hadger, that although her means +have been exceedingly narrowed down, she has not, for the last ten +years, failed to give her mite, which she divides between the house of +the "Foreign Missions," and the "Tract Society." + +A nice, smooth-faced man, somewhat clerically dressed, straight and +portly of person, and most unexceptionable in his morals, is Mr. Hadger. +A smile of Christian resignation and brotherly love happily ornaments +his countenance; and then, there is something venerable about his +nicely-combed gray whiskers, his white cravat, his snowy hair, his mild +brown eyes, and his pleasing voice. One is almost constrained to receive +him as the ideal of virtue absolved in sackcloth and ashes. As an +evidence of our generosity, we regard him an excellent Christian, whose +life hath been purified with an immense traffic in human----(perhaps +some good friend will crack our skull for saying it). + +In truth (though we never could find a solution in the Bible for it), as +the traffic in human property increased Mr. Hadger's riches, so also did +it in a corresponding ratio increase his piety. There is, indeed, a +singular connection existing between piety and slavery; but to analyze +it properly requires the mind of a philosopher, so strange is the +blending. + +Brother Hadger takes a sup of ice-water, and commences reading Sister +Slocum's letter, which runs thus: + + "NEW YORK, May --, 1850. +"DEAR BROTHER HADGER: + +"Justice and Mercy is the motto of the cause we have lent our hands and +hearts to promote. Only yesterday we had a gathering of kind spirits at +the Mission House in Centre street, where, thank God, all was peace and +love. We had, too, an anxious gathering at the 'Tract Society's rooms.' +There it was not so much peace and love as could have been desired. +Brother Bight seemed earnest, but said many unwise things; and Brother +Scratch let out some very unwise indiscretions which you will find in +the reports I send. There was some excitement, and something said about +what we got from the South not being of God's chosen earnings. And there +was something more let off by our indiscreet Brothers against the +getting up of the tracts. But we had a majority, and voted down our +indiscreet Brothers, inasmuch as it was shown to be necessary not to +offend our good friends in the South. Not to give offence to a Brother +is good in the sight of the Lord, and this Brother Primrose argued in a +most Christian speech of four long hours or more, and which had the +effect of convincing every one how necessary it was to free the _tracts_ +of everything offensive to your cherished institution. And though we did +not, Brother Hadger, break up in the continuance of that love we were +wont to when you were among us, we sustained the principle that seemeth +most acceptable to you--we gained the victory over our disaffected +Brothers. And I am desired on behalf of the Society, to thank you for +the handsome remittance, hoping you will make it known, through peace +and love, to those who kindly contributed toward it. The Board of +'Foreign Missions,' as you will see by the report, also passed a vote of +thanks for your favor. How grateful to think what one will do to +enlighten the heathen world, and how many will receive a tract through +the medium of the other. + +"We are now in want of a few thousand dollars, to get the Rev. Singleton +Spyke, a most excellent person, off to Antioch. Aid us with a mite, +Brother Hadger, for his mission is one of God's own. The enclosed letter +is an appeal to Sister Swiggs, whose yearly mites have gone far, very +far, to aid us in the good but mighty work now to be done. Sister Swiggs +will have her reward in heaven for these her good gifts. How thankful +should she be to Him who provides all things, and thus enableth her to +bestow liberally. + +"And now, Brother, I must say adieu! May you continue to live in the +spirit of Christian love. And may you never feel the want of these mites +bestowed in the cause of the poor heathen. + + "SISTER ABIJAH SLOCUM." + +"May the good be comforted!" ejaculates Mrs. Swiggs, as Mr. Hadger +concludes. She has listened with absorbed attention to every word, at +times bowing, and adding a word of approval. Mr. Hadger hopes something +may be done in this good cause, and having interchanged sundry +compliments, takes his departure, old Rebecca opening the door. + +"Glad he's gone!" the old lady says to herself. "I am so anxious to hear +the good tidings Sister Slocum's letter conveys." She wipes and wipes +her venerable spectacles, adjusts them piquantly over her small, wicked +eyes, gives her elaborate cap-border a twitch forward, frets her finger +nervously over the letter, and gets herself into a general state of +confritteration. "There!" she says, entirely forgetting her Milton, +which has fallen on the floor, to the great satisfaction of the worthy +old cat, who makes manifest his regard for it by coiling himself down +beside it, "God bless her. It makes my heart leap with joy when I see +her writing," she pursues, as old Rebecca stands contemplating her, with +serious and sullen countenance. Having prilled and fussed over the +letter, she commences reading in a half whisper: + + "NO. --,4TH AVENUE, NEW YORK, + May --, 1850. + +"MUCH BELOVED SISTER: + +"I am, as you know, always overwhelmed with business; and having hoped +the Lord in his goodness yet spares you to us, and gives you health and +bounty wherewith to do good, must be pardoned for my brevity. The Lord +prospers our missions among the heathen, and the Tract Society continues +to make its labors known throughout the country. It, as you will see by +the tracts I send herewith, still continues that scrupulous regard to +the character of your domestic institution which has hitherto +characterized it. Nothing is permitted to creep into them that in any +way relates to your domestics, or that can give pain to the delicate +sensibilities of your very excellent and generous people. We would do +good to all without giving pain to any one. Oh! Sister, you know what a +wicked world this is, and how it becomes us to labor for the good of +others. But what is this world compared with the darkness of the heathen +world, and those poor wretches ('Sure enough!' says Mrs. Swiggs) who eat +one another, never have heard of a God, and prefer rather to worship +idols of wood and stone. When I contemplate this dreadful darkness, +which I do night and day, day and night, I invoke the Spirit to give me +renewed strength to go forward in the good work of bringing from +darkness ('Just as I feel,' thinks Mrs. Swiggs) unto light those poor +benighted wretches of the heathen world. How often I have wished you +could be here with us, to add life and spirit to our cause--to aid us in +beating down Satan, and when we have got him down not to let him up. The +heathen world never will be what it should be until Satan is bankrupt, +deprived of his arts, and chained to the post of humiliation--never! ('I +wish I had him where my Tom is!' Mrs. Swiggs mutters to herself.) Do +come on here, Sister. We will give you an excellent reception, and make +you so happy while you sojourn among us. And now, Sister, having never +appealed to you in vain, we again extend our hand, hoping you will favor +the several very excellent projects we now have on hand. First, we have +a project--a very excellent one, on hand, for evangelizing the world; +second, in consideration of what has been done in the reign of the +Seven Churches--Pergamos Thyatira, Magnesia, Cassaba, Demish, and +Baindir, where all is darkness, we have conceived a mission to Antioch; +and third, we have been earnestly engaged in, and have spent a few +thousand dollars over a project of the 'Tract Society,' which is the +getting up of no less than one or two million of their excellent tracts, +for the Dahomy field of missionary labor--such as the Egba mission, the +Yoruba mission, and the Ijebu missions. Oh! Sister, what a field of +labor is here open to us. And what a source of joy and thankfulness it +should be to us that we have the means to labor in those fields of +darkness. We have selected brother Singleton Spyke, a young man of great +promise, for this all-important mission to Antioch. He has been for the +last four years growing in grace and wisdom. No expense has been spared +in everything necessary to his perfection, not even in the selection of +a partner suited to his prospects and future happiness. We now want a +few thousand dollars to make up the sum requisite to his mission, and +pay the expenses of getting him off. Come to our assistance, dear +Sister--do come! Share with us your mite in this great work of +enlightening the heathen, and know that your deeds are recorded in +heaven. ('Verily!' says the old lady.) And now, hoping the Giver of all +good will continue to favor you with His blessing, and preserve you in +that strength of intellect with which you have so often assisted us in +beating down Satan, and hoping either to have the pleasure of seeing +you, or hearing from you soon, I will say adieu! subscribing myself a +servant in the cause of the heathen, and your sincere Sister, + + "MRS. ABIJAH SLOCUM. + +"P.S.--Remember, dear Sister, that the amount of money expended in +idol-worship--in erecting monster temples and keeping them in repair, +would provide comfortable homes and missions for hundreds of our very +excellent young men and women, who are now ready to buckle on the armor +and enter the fight against Satan. + + "A.S." + +"Dear-a-me," she sighs, laying the letter upon the table, kicking the +cat as she resumes her rocking, and with her right hand restoring her +Milton to its accustomed place on the table. "Rebecca," she says, "will +get a pillow and place it nicely at my back." Rebecca, the old slave, +brings the pillow. "There, there! now, not too high, nor too low, +Rebecca!" her thin, sharp voice echoes, as she works her shoulders, and +permits her long fingers to wander over her cap-border. "When 'um got +just so missus like, say--da he is!" mumbles the old negress in reply. +"Well, well--a little that side, now--" The negress moves the pillow a +little to the left. "That's too much, Rebecca--a slight touch the other +way. You are so stupid, I will have to sell you, and get Jewel to take +care of me. I would have done it before but for the noise of her +crutch--I would, Rebecca! You never think of me--you only think of how +much hominy you can eat." The old negress makes a motion to move the +pillow a little to the right, when Mrs. Swiggs settles her head and +shoulders into it, saying, "there!" + +"Glad'um suit--fo'h true!" retorts the negress, her heavy lips and +sullen face giving out the very incarnation of hatred. + +"Now don't make a noise when you go out." Rebecca in reply says she is +"gwine down to da kitchen to see Isaac," and toddles out of the room, +gently closing the door after her. + +Resignedly Mrs. Swiggs closes her eyes, moderates her rocking, and +commences evolving and revolving the subject over in her mind. "I +haven't much of this world's goods--no, I haven't; but I'm of a good +family, and its name for hospitality must be kept up. Don't see that I +can keep it up better than by helping Sister Slocum and the _Tract +Society_ out," she muses. But the exact way to effect this has not yet +come clear to her mind. Times are rather hard, and, as we have said +before, she is in straightened circumstances, having, for something more +than ten years, had nothing but the earnings of eleven old negroes, five +of whom are cripples, to keep up the dignity of the house of the Swiggs. +"There's old Zeff," she says, "has took to drinking, and Flame, his +wife, ain't a bit better; and neither one of them have been worth +anything since I sold their two children--which I had to do, or let the +dignity of the family suffer. I don't like to do it, but I must. I must +send Zeff to the workhouse--have him nicely whipped, I only charge him +eighteen dollars a month for himself, and yet he will drink, and won't +pay over his wages. Yes!--he shall have it. The extent of the law, well +laid on, will learn him a lesson. There's old Cato pays me twenty +dollars a month, and Cato's seventy-four--four years older than Zeff. In +truth, my negro property is all getting careless about paying wages. Old +Trot runs away whenever he can get a chance; Brutus has forever got +something the matter with him; and Cicero has come to be a real skulk. +He don't care for the cowhide; the more I get him flogged the worse he +gets. Curious creature! And his old woman, since she broke her leg, and +goes with a crutch, thinks she can do just as she pleases. There is +plenty of work in her--plenty; she has no disposition to let it come +out, though! And she has kept up a grumbling ever since I sold her +girls. Well, I didn't want to keep them all the time at the +whipping-post; so I sold them to save their characters." Thus Mrs. +Swiggs muses until she drops into a profound sleep, in which she +remains, dreaming that she has sold old Mumma Molly, Cicero's wife, and +with the proceeds finds herself in New York, hob-nobbing it with Sister +Slocum, and making one extensive donation to the Tract Society, and +another to the fund for getting Brother Singleton Spyke off to Antioch. +Her arrival in Gotham, she dreams, is a great event. The Tract Society +(she is its guest) is smothering her with its attentions. Indeed, a +whole column and a half of the very conservative and highly respectable +old _Observer_ is taken up with an elaborate and well-written history of +her many virtues. + +The venerable old lady dreams herself into dusky evening, and wakes to +find old Rebecca summoning her to tea. She is exceedingly sorry the old +slave disturbed her. However, having great faith in dreams, and the one +she has just enjoyed bringing the way to aid Sister Slocum in carrying +out her projects of love so clear to her mind, she is resolved to lose +no time in carrying out its principles. Selling old Molly won't be much; +old Molly is not worth much to her; and the price of old Molly (she'll +bring something!) will do so much to enlighten the heathen, and aid the +Tract Society in giving out its excellent works. "And I have for years +longed to see Sister Slocum, face to face, before I die," she says. And +with an affixed determination to carry out this pious resolve, Mrs. +Swiggs sips her tea, and retires to her dingy little chamber for the +night. + +A bright and cheerful sun ushers in the following morning. The soft rays +steal in at the snuffy door, at the dilapidated windows, through the +faded curtains, and into the "best parlor," where, at an early hour, +sits the antique old lady, rummaging over some musty old papers piled on +the centre-table. The pale light plays over and gives to her features a +spectre-like hue; while the grotesque pieces of furniture by which she +is surrounded lend their aid in making complete the picture of a +wizard's abode. The paper she wants is nowhere to be found. "I must +exercise a little judgment in this affair," she mutters, folding a bit +of paper, and seizing her pen. Having written-- + +"TO THE MASTER OF THE WORK-HOUSE: + +"I am sorry I have to trouble you so often with old Cicero. He will not +pay wages all I can do. Give him at least thirty--well laid on. I go to +New York in a few days, and what is due you from me for punishments will +be paid any time you send your bill. + + "SARAH PRINGLE HUGHES SWIGGS." + +"Well! he deserves what he gets," she shakes her head and ejaculates. +Having summoned Rebecca, Master Cicero, a hard-featured old negro, is +ordered up, and comes tottering into the room, half-bent with age, his +hair silvered, and his face covered with a mossy-white beard--the +picture of a patriarch carved in ebony. "Good mornin', Missus," he +speaks in a feeble and husky voice, standing hesitatingly before his +august owner. "You are--well, I might as well say it--you're a +miserable old wretch!" Cicero makes a nervous motion with his left hand, +as the fingers of his right wander over the bald crown of his head, and +his eyes give out a forlorn look. She has no pity for the poor old +man--none. "You are, Cicero--you needn't pretend you ain't," she +pursues; and springing to her feet with an incredible nimbleness, she +advances to the window, tucks up the old curtain, and says, "There; let +the light reflect on your face. Badness looks out of it, Cicero! you +never was a good nigger--" + +"Per'aps not, Missus; but den I'se old." + +"Old! you ain't so old but you can pay wages," the testy old woman +interrupts, tossing her head. "You're a capital hand at cunning excuses. +This will get you done for, at the workhouse." She hands him a +delicately enveloped and carefully superscribed _billet_, and commands +him to proceed forthwith to the workhouse. A tear courses slowly down +his time-wrinkled face, he hesitates, would speak one word in his own +defence. But the word of his owner is absolute, and in obedience to the +wave of her hand he totters to the door, and disappears. His tears are +only those of a slave. How useless fall the tears of him who has no +voice, no power to assert his manhood! And yet, in that shrunken +bosom--in that figure, bent and shattered of age, there burns a passion +for liberty and hatred of the oppressor more terrible than the hand that +has made him the wretch he is. That tear! how forcibly it tells the tale +of his sorrowing soul; how eloquently it foretells the downfall of that +injustice holding him in its fierce chains! + +Cicero has been nicely got out of the way. Molly, his wife, is summoned +into the presence of her mistress, to receive her awful doom. "To be +frank with you, Molly, and I am always outspoken, you know, I am going +to sell you. We have been long enough together, and necessity at this +moment forces me to this conclusion," says our venerable lady, +addressing herself to the old slave, who stands before her, leaning on +her crutch, for she is one of the cripples. "You will get a pious owner, +I trust; and God will be merciful to you." + +The old slave of seventy years replies only with an expression of hate +in her countenance, and a drooping of her heavy lip. "Now," Mrs. Swiggs +pursues, "take this letter, go straight to Mr. Forcheu with it, and he +will sell you. He is very kind in selling old people--very!" Molly +inquires if Cicero may go. Mrs. Swiggs replies that nobody will buy two +old people together. + +The slave of seventy years, knowing her entreaties will be in vain, +approaches her mistress with the fervency of a child, and grasping +warmly her hand, stammers out: "Da--da--dah Lord bless um, Missus. Tan't +many days fo'h we meet in t'oder world--good-bye." + +"God bless you--good-bye, Molly. Remember what I have told you so many +times--long suffering and forbearance make the true Christian. Be a +Christian--seek to serve your Master faithfully; such the Scripture +teacheth. Now tie your handkerchief nicely on your head, and get your +clean apron on, and mind to look good-natured when Mr. Forcheu sells +you." This admonition, methodically addressed to the old slave, and Mrs. +Swiggs waves her hand, resumes her Milton, and settles herself back into +her chair. Reader! if you have a heart in the right place it will be +needless for us to dwell upon the feelings of that old slave, as she +drags her infirm body to the shambles of the extremely kind vender of +people. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +MR. McARTHUR MAKES A DISCOVERY. + + +On his return from the theatre, Mr. McArthur finds his daughter, Maria, +waiting him in great anxiety. "Father, father!" she says, as he enters +his little back parlor, "this is what that poor woman, Mag Munday, used +to take on so about; here it is." She advances, her countenance wearing +an air of great solicitude, holds the old dress in her left hand, and a +stained letter in her right. "It fell from a pocket in the bosom," she +pursues. The old man, with an expression of surprise, takes the letter +and prepares to read it. He pauses. "Did it come from the dress I +discovered in the old chest?" he inquires, adjusting his spectacles. +Maria says it did. She has no doubt it might have relieved her +suffering, if it had been found before she died. "But, father, was there +not to you something strange, something mysterious about the manner she +pursued her search for this old dress? You remember how she used to +insist that it contained something that might be a fortune to her in her +distress, and how there was a history connected with it that would not +reflect much credit on a lady in high life!" + +The old man interrupts by saying he well remembers it; remembers how he +thought she was a maniac to set so much value on the old dress, and make +so many sighs when it could not be found. "It always occurred to me +there was something more than the dress that made her take on so," the +old man concludes, returning the letter to Maria, with a request that +she will read it. Maria resumes her seat, the old man draws a chair to +the table, and with his face supported in his left hand listens +attentively as she reads: + + "WASHINGTON SQUARE, NEW YORK, + May 14, 18-- + +"I am glad to hear from Mr. Sildon that the child does well. Poor little +thing, it gives me so many unhappy thoughts when I think of it; but I +know you are a good woman, Mrs. Munday, and will watch her with the care +of a mother. She was left at our door one night, and as people are +always too ready to give currency to scandal, my brother and I thought +that it would not be prudent to adopt it at once, more especially as I +have been ill for the last few months, and have any quantity of enemies. +I am going to close my house, now that my deceased husband's estate is +settled, and spend a few years in Europe. Mr. Thomas Sildon is well +provided with funds for the care of the child during my absence, and +will pay you a hundred dollars every quarter. Let no one see this +letter, not even your husband. And when I return I will give you an +extra remuneration, and adopt the child as my own. Mr. Sildon will tell +you where to find me when I return." + + Your friend, + "C.A.M." + +"There, father," says Maria, "there is something more than we know +about, connected with this letter. One thing always discovers +another--don't you think it may have something to do with that lady who +has two or three times come in here, and always appeared so nervous +when she inquired about Mag Munday? and you recollect how she would not +be content until we had told her a thousand different things concerning +her. She wanted, she said, a clue to her; but she never could get a clue +to her. There is something more than we know of connected with this +letter," and she lays the old damp stained and crumpled letter on the +table, as the old servant enters bearing on a small tray their humble +supper. + +"Now, sit up, my daughter," says the old man, helping her to a sandwich +while she pours out his dish of tea, "our enjoyment need be none the +less because our fare is humble. As for satisfying this lady about Mag +Munday, why, I have given that up. I told her all I knew, and that is, +that when she first came to Charleston--one never knows what these New +Yorkers are--she was a dashing sort of woman, had no end of admirers, +and lived in fine style. Then it got out that she wasn't the wife of the +man who came with her, but that she was the wife of a poor man of the +name of Munday, and had quit her husband; as wives will when they take a +notion in their heads. And as is always the way with these sort of +people, she kept gradually getting down in the world, and as she kept +getting more and more down so she took more and more to drink, and drink +brought on grief, and grief soon wasted her into the grave. I took pity +on her, for she seemed not a bad woman at heart, and always said she was +forced by necessity into the house of Madame Flamingo--a house that +hurries many a poor creature to her ruin. And she seemed possessed of a +sense of honor not common to these people; and when Madame Flamingo +turned her into the street,--as she does every one she has succeeded in +making a wretch of,--and she could find no one to take her in, and had +nowhere to lay her poor head, as she used to say, I used to lend her +little amounts, which she always managed somehow to repay. As to there +being anything valuable in the dress, I never gave it a thought; and +when she would say if she could have restored to her the dress, and +manage to get money enough to get to New York, I thought it was only the +result of her sadness." + +"You may remember, father," interrupts Maria, "she twice spoke of a +child left in her charge; and that the child was got away from her. If +she could only trace that poor child, she would say, or find out what +had become of it, she could forget her own sufferings and die easy. But +the thought of what had become of that child forever haunted her; she +knew that unless she atoned in some way the devil would surely get her." +The old man says, setting down his cup, it all comes fresh to his mind. +Mr. Soloman (he has not a doubt) could let some light upon the subject; +and, as he seems acquainted with the lady that takes so much interest in +what became of the woman Munday, he may relieve her search. "I am sure +she is dead, nevertheless; I say this, knowing that having no home she +got upon the Neck, and then associated with the negroes; and the last I +heard of her was that the fever carried her off. This must have been +true, or else she had been back here pleading for the bundles we could +not find." Thus saying, Mr. McArthur finishes his humble supper, kisses +and fondles his daughter, whom he dotingly loves, and retires for the +night. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +WHAT MADAME FLAMINGO WANTS TO BE. + + +Tom Swiggs has enjoyed, to the evident satisfaction of his mother, a +seven months' residence in the old prison. The very first families +continue to pay their respects to the good old lady, and she in return +daily honors them with mementoes of her remembrance. These little +civilities, exchanging between the stately old lady and our first +families, indicate the approach of the fashionable season. Indeed, we +may as well tell you the fashionable season is commencing in right good +earnest. Our elite are at home, speculations are rife as to what the +"Jockey Club" will do, we are recounting our adventures at northern +watering-places, chuckling over our heroism in putting down those who +were unwise enough to speak disrespectful of our cherished institutions, +and making very light of what we would do to the whole north. You may +know, too, that our fashionable season is commenced by what is taking +place at the house of Madame Flamingo on the one side, and the St. +Cecilia on the other. We recognize these establishments as institutions. +That they form the great fortifications of fashionable society, flanking +it at either extreme, no one here doubts. + +We are extremely sensitive of two things--fashion, and our right to sell +negroes. Without the former we should be at sea; without the latter, our +existence would indeed be humble. The St. Cecilia Society inaugurates +the fashionable season, the erudite Editor of the Courier will tell +you, with an entertainment given to the elite of its members and a few +very distinguished foreigners. Madame Flamingo opens her forts, at the +same time, with a grand supper, which she styles a very select +entertainment, and to which she invites none but "those of the highest +standing in society." If you would like to see what sort of a supper she +sets to inaugurate the fashionable season, take our arm for a few +minutes. + +Having just arrived from New York, where she has been luxuriating and +selecting her wares for the coming season, (New York is the fountain +ejecting its vice over this Union,) Madame looks hale, hearty, and +exceedingly cheerful. Nor has she spared any expense to make herself up +with becoming youthfulness--as the common people have it. She has got +her a lace cap of the latest fashion, with great broad striped blue and +red strings; and her dress is of orange-colored brocade, trimmed with +tulle, and looped with white blossoms. Down the stomacher it is set with +jewels. Her figure seems more embonpoint than when we last saw her; and +as she leans on the arm of old Judge Sleepyhorn, forms a striking +contrast to the slender figure of that singular specimen of judicial +infirmity. Two great doors are opened, and Madame leads the way into +what she calls her upper and private parlor, a hall of some fifty feet +by thirty, in the centre of which a sumptuously decorated table is set +out. Indeed there is a chasteness and richness about the furniture and +works of art that decorate this apartment, singularly at variance with +the bright-colored furniture of the room we have described in a former +chapter. "Ladies and gentlemen!" ejaculates the old hostess, "imagine +this a palace, in which you are all welcome. As the legal gentry say +(she casts a glance at the old Judge), when you have satisfactorily +imagined that, imagine me a princess, and address me--" + +"High ho!" interrupts Mr. Soloman. + +"I confess," continues the old woman, her little, light-brown curls +dangling across her brow, and her face crimsoning, "I would like to be a +princess." + +"You can," rejoins the former speaker, his fingers wandering to his +chin. + +"Well! I have my beadle--beadles, I take, are inseparable from royal +blood--and my servants in liveries. After all (she tosses her head) what +can there be in beadles and liveries? Why! the commonest and vulgarest +people of New York have taken to liveries. If you chance to take an +elegant drive up the 'Fifth Avenue,' and meet a dashing equipage--say +with horses terribly caparisoned, a purloined crest on the +carriage-door, a sallow-faced footman covered up in a green coat, all +over big brass buttons, stuck up behind, and a whiskey-faced coachman +half-asleep in a great hammercloth, be sure it belongs to some snob who +has not a sentence of good English in his head. Yes! perhaps a +soap-chandler, an oil-dealer, or a candy-maker. Brainless people always +creep into plush--always! People of taste and learning, like me, only +are entitled to liveries and crests." This Madame says, inviting her +guests to take seats at her banquet-table, at the head of which she +stands, the Judge on her right, Mr. Soloman on her left. Her china is of +the most elaborate description, embossed and gilt; her plate is of pure +silver, and massive; she has vases and candelabras of the same metal; +and her cutlery is of the most costly description. No house in the +country can boast a more exact taste in their selection. At each plate +a silver holder stands, bearing a bouquet of delicately-arranged +flowers. A trellise of choice flowers, interspersed here and there with +gorgeous bouquets in porcelain vases, range along the centre of the +table; which presents the appearance of a bed of fresh flowers +variegated with delicious fruits. Her guests are to her choicer than her +fruits; her fruits are choicer than her female wares. No entertainment +of this kind would be complete without Judge Sleepyhorn and Mr. Soloman. +They countenance vice in its most insidious form--they foster crime; +without crime their trade would be damaged. The one cultivates, that the +other may reap the harvest and maintain his office. + +"I see," says Mr. Soloman, in reply to the old hostess, "not the +slightest objection to your being a princess--not the slightest! And, to +be frank about the matter, I know of no one who would better ornament +the position." + +"Your compliments are too liberally bestowed, Mr. Soloman." + +"Not at all! 'Pon my honor, now, there is a chance for you to bring that +thing about in a very short time. There is Grouski, the Polish exile, a +prince of pure blood. Grouski is poor, wants to get back to Europe. He +wants a wife, too. Grouski is a high old fellow--a most celebrated man, +fought like a hero for the freedom of his country; and though an exile +here, would be received with all the honors due to a prince in either +Italy, France or England. + +"A very respectable gentleman, no doubt; but a prince of pure blood, Mr. +Soloman, is rather a scarce article these days." + +"Not a bit of it--why there is lots of exiled Princes all over this +country. They are modest men, you know, like me; and having got it into +their heads that we don't like royal blood, rather keep the fact of +their birth to themselves. As for Grouski! why his history is as +familiar to every American who takes any interest in these things, as is +the history of poor Kossuth. I only say this, Madame Flamingo, to prove +to you that Grouski is none of your mock articles. And what is more, I +have several times heard him speak most enthusiastically of you." + +"Of me!" interrupts the old hostess, blushing. "I respect Grouski, and +the more so for his being a poor prince in exile." Madame orders her +servants, who are screwed into bright liveries, to bring on some +sparkling Moselle. This done, and the glasses filled with the sparkling +beverage, Mr. Soloman rises to propose a toast; although, as he says, it +is somewhat out of place, two rounds having only succeeded the soup: "I +propose the health of our generous host, to whom we owe so much for the +superb manner in which she has catered for our amusement. Here's that we +may speedily have the pleasure of paying our respects to her as the +Princess Grouski." Madame Flamingo bows, the toast is drunk with cheers, +and she begins to think there is something in it after all. + +"Make as light of it as you please, ladies and gentlemen--many stranger +things have come to pass. As for the exile, Grouski, I always esteemed +him a very excellent gentleman." + +"Exactly!" interposes the Judge, tipping his glass, and preparing his +appetite for the course of game--broiled partridges, rice-birds, and +grouse--which is being served by the waiters. "No one more worthy," he +pursues, wiping his sleepy face with his napkin, "of being a princess. +Education, wealth, and taste, you have; and with Grouski, there is +nothing to prevent the happy consummation--nothing! I beg to assure +you," Madame Flamingo makes a most courteous bow, and with an air of +great dignity condescends to say she hopes gentlemen of the highest +standing in Charleston have for ten years or more had the strongest +proofs of her ability to administer the offices of a lady of station. +"But you know," she pursues, hoping ladies and gentlemen will be kind +enough to keep their glasses full, "people are become so pious +now-a-days that they are foolish enough to attach a stigma to our +business." + +"Pooh, pooh!" interrupts the accommodation man, having raised his glass +in compliment to a painted harlot. "Once in Europe, and under the shadow +of the wife of Prince Grouski, the past would be wiped out; your money +would win admirers, while your being a princess would make fashionable +society your tool. The very atmosphere of princesses is full of taint; +but it is sunk in the rank, and rather increases courtiers. In France +your untainted princess would prognosticate the second coming of--, +well, I will not profane." + +"Do not, I beg of you," says Madame, blushing. "I am scrupulously +opposed to profanity." And then there breaks upon the ear music that +seems floating from an enchanted chamber, so soft and dulcet does it +mingle with the coarse laughing and coarser wit of the banqueters. At +this feast of flowers may be seen the man high in office, the grave +merchant, the man entrusted with the most important affairs of the +commonwealth--the sage and the charlatan. Sallow-faced and painted +women, more undressed than dressed, sit beside them, hale companions. +Respectable society regards the Judge a fine old gentleman; respectable +society embraces Mr. Soloman, notwithstanding he carries on a business, +as we shall show, that brings misery upon hundreds. Twice has he +received a large vote as candidate for the General Assembly. + +A little removed from the old Judge (excellent man) sits Anna Bonard, +like a jewel among stones less brilliant, George Mullholland on her +left. Her countenance wears an expression of gentleness, sweet and +touching. Her silky black hair rolls in wavy folds down her voluptuous +shoulders, a fresh carnatic flush suffuses her cheeks, her great black +eyes, so beautifully arched with heavy lashes, flash incessantly, and to +her bewitching charms is added a pensive smile that now lights up her +features, then subsides into melancholy. + +"What think you of my statuary?" inquired the old hostess, "and my +antiques? Have I not taste enough for a princess?" How soft the carpet, +how rich its colors! Those marble mantel-pieces, sculptured in female +figures, how massive! How elegantly they set off each end of the hall, +as we shall call this room; and how sturdily they bear up statuettes, +delicately executed in alabaster and Parian, of Byron, Goethe, Napoleon, +and Charlemagne--two on each. And there, standing between two Gothic +windows on the front of the hall, is an antique side-table, of curious +design. The windows are draped with curtains of rich purple satin, with +embroidered cornice skirts and heavy tassels. On this antique table, and +between the undulating curtains, is a marble statue of a female in a +reclining posture, her right hand supporting her head, her dishevelled +hair flowing down her shoulder. The features are soft, calm, and almost +grand. It is simplicity sleeping, Madame Flamingo says. On the opposite +side of the hall are pedestals of black walnut, with mouldings in gilt, +on which stand busts of Washington and Lafayette, as if they were +unwilling spectators of the revelry. A venerable recline, that may have +had a place in the propylæa, or served to decorate the halls of +Versailles in the days of Napoleon, has here a place beneath the +portrait of Jefferson. This humble tribute the old hostess says she pays +to democracy. And at each end of the hall are double alcoves, over the +arches of which are great spread eagles, holding in their beaks the +points of massive maroon-colored drapery that falls over the sides, +forming brilliant depressions. In these alcoves are groups of figures +and statuettes, and parts of statuettes, legless and armless, and all +presenting a rude and mutilated condition. What some of them represented +it would have puzzled the ancient Greeks to decypher. Madame, +nevertheless, assures her guests she got them from among the relics of +Italian and Grecian antiquity. You may do justice to her taste on living +statuary; but her rude and decrepit wares, like those owned and so much +valued by our New York patrons of the arts, you may set down as +belonging to a less antique age of art. And there are chairs inlaid with +mosaic and pearl, and upholstered with the richest and brightest satin +damask,--revealing, however, that uncouthness of taste so characteristic +of your Fifth Avenue aristocrat. + +Now cast your eye upward to the ceiling. It is frescoed with themes of a +barbaric age. The finely-outlined figure of a female adorns the centre. +Her loins are enveloped in what seems a mist; and in her right hand, +looking as if it were raised from the groundwork, she holds gracefully +the bulb of a massive chandelier, from the jets of which a refulgent +light is reflected upon the flowery banquet table. Madame smilingly says +it is the Goddess of Love, an exact copy of the one in the temple of +Jupiter Olympus. Another just opposite, less voluptuous in its outlines, +she adds, is intended for a copy of the fabled goddess, supposed by the +ancients to have thrown off her wings to illustrate the uncertainty of +fortune. + +Course follows course, of viands the most delicious, and sumptuously +served. The wine cup now flows freely, the walls reëcho the coarse jokes +and coarser laughs of the banqueters, and leaden eyelids, languid faces, +and reeling brains, mark the closing scene. Such is the gorgeous vice we +worship, such the revelries we sanction, such the insidious debaucheries +we shield with the mantle of our laws--laws made for the accommodation +of the rich, for the punishment only of the poor. And a thousand poor in +our midst suffer for bread while justice sleeps. + +Midnight is upon the banqueters, the music strikes up a last march, the +staggering company retire to the stifled air of resplendent chambers. +The old hostess contemplates herself as a princess, and seriously +believes an alliance with Grouski would not be the strangest thing in +the world. There is, however, one among the banqueters who seems to have +something deeper at heart than the transitory offerings on the +table--one whose countenance at times assumes a thoughtfulness +singularly at variance with those around her. It is Anna Bonard. + +Only to-day did George Mullholland reveal to her the almost hopeless +condition of poor Tom Swiggs, still confined in the prison, with +criminals for associates, and starving. She had met Tom when fortune was +less ruthless; he had twice befriended her while in New York. Moved by +that sympathy for the suffering which is ever the purest offspring of +woman's heart, no matter how low her condition, she resolved not to rest +until she had devised the means of his release. Her influence over the +subtle-minded old Judge she well knew, nor was she ignorant of the +relations existing between him and the accommodation man. + +On the conclusion of the feast she invites them to her chamber. They are +not slow to accept the invitation. "Be seated, gentlemen, be seated," +she says, preserving a calmness of manner not congenial to the feelings +of either of her guests. She places chairs for them at the round table, +upon the marble top of which an inlaid portfolio lies open. + +"Rather conventional," stammers Mr. Snivel, touching the Judge +significantly on the arm, as they take seats. Mr. Snivel is fond of good +wine, and good wine has so mellowed his constitution that he is obliged +to seek support for his head in his hands. + +"I'd like a little light on this 'ere plot. Peers thar's somethin' a +foot," responds the Judge. + +Anna interposes by saying they shall know quick enough. Placing a pen +and inkstand on the table, she takes her seat opposite them, and +commences watching their declining consciousness. "Thar," ejaculates the +old Judge, his moody face becoming dark and sullen, "let us have the +wish." + +"You owe me an atonement, and you can discharge it by gratifying my +desire." + +"Women," interposes the old Judge, dreamily, "always have wishes to +gratify. W-o-l, if its teu sign a warrant, hang a nigger, tar and +feather an abolitionist, ride the British Consul out a town, or send a +dozen vagrants to the whipping-post--I'm thar. Anything my hand's in +at!" incoherently mumbles this judicial dignitary. + +Mr. Snivel having reminded the Judge that ten o'clock to-morrow morning +is the time appointed for meeting Splitwood, the "nigger broker," who +furnishes capital with which they start a new paper for the new party, +drops away into a refreshing sleep, his head on the marble. + +"Grant me, as a favor, an order for the release of poor Tom Swiggs. You +cannot deny me this, Judge," says Anna, with an arch smile, and pausing +for a reply. + +"Wol, as to that," responds this high functionary, "if I'd power, +'twouldn't be long afore I'd dew it, though his mother'd turn the town +upside down; but I hain't no power in the premises. I make it a rule, on +and off the bench, never to refuse the request of a pretty woman. +Chivalry, you know." + +"For your compliment, Judge, I thank you. The granting my request, +however, would be more grateful to my feelings." + +"It speaks well of your heart, my dear girl; but, you see, I'm only a +Judge. Mr. Snivel, here, probably committed him ('Snivel! here, wake +up!' he says, shaking him violently), he commits everybody. Being a +Justice of the Peace, you see, and justices of the peace being +everything here, I may prevail on him to grant your request!" pursues +the Judge, brightening up at the earnest manner in which Anna makes her +appeal. "Snivel! Snivel!--Justice Snivel, come, wake up. Thar is a call +for your sarvices." The Judge continues to shake the higher functionary +violently. Mr. Snivel with a modest snore rouses from his nap, says he +is always ready to do a bit of a good turn. "If you are, then," +interposes the fair girl, "let it be made known now. Grant me an order +of release for Tom Swiggs. Remember what will be the consequence of a +refusal!" + +"Tom Swiggs! Tom Swiggs!--why I've made a deal of fees of that fellow. +But, viewing it in either a judicial or philosophical light, he's quite +as well where he is. They don't give them much to eat in jail I admit, +but it is a great place for straightening the morals of a rum-head like +Tom. And he has got down so low that all the justices in the city +couldn't make him fit for respectable society." Mr. Snivel yawns and +stretches his arms athwart. + +"But you can grant me the order independent of what respectable society +will do." + +Mr. Snivel replies, bowing, a pretty woman is more than a match for the +whole judiciary. He will make a good amount of fees out of Tom yet; and +what his testy old mother declines to pay, he will charge to the State, +as the law gives him a right to do. + +"Then I am to understand!" quickly retorts Anna, rising from her chair, +with an expression of contempt on her countenance, and a satirical curl +on her lip, "you have no true regard for me then; your friendship is +that of the knave, who has nothing to give after his ends are served. I +will leave you!" The Judge takes her gently by the arm; indignantly she +pushes him from her, as her great black eyes flash with passion, and she +seeks for the door. Mr. Snivel has placed himself against it, begs she +will be calm. "Why," he says, "get into a passion at that which was but +a joke." The Judge touches him on the arm significantly, and whispers +in his ear, "grant her the order--grant it, for peace sake, Justice +Snivel." + +"Now, if you will tell me why you take so deep an interest in getting +them fellows out of prison, I will grant the order of release," Mr. +Snivel says, and with an air of great gallantry leads her back to her +chair. + +"None but friendship for one who served me when he had it in his power." + +"I see! I see!" interrupts our gallant justice; "the renewal of an old +acquaintance; you are to play the part of Don Quixote,--he, the +mistress. It's well enough there should be a change in the knights, and +that the stripling who goes about in the garb of the clergy, and has +been puzzling his wits how to get Tom out of prison for the last six +months--" + +"Your trades never agree;" parenthesises Anna. + +"Should yield the lance to you." + +"Who better able to wield it in this chivalrous atmosphere? It only +pains my own feelings to confess myself an abandoned woman; but I have a +consolation in knowing how powerful an abandoned woman may be in +Charleston." + +An admonition from the old Judge, and Mr. Snivel draws his chair to the +table, upon which he places his left elbow, rests his head on his hand. +"This fellow will get out; his mother--I have pledged my honor to keep +him fast locked up--will find it out, and there'll be a fuss among our +first families," he whispers. Anna pledges him her honor, a thing she +never betrays, that the secret of Tom's release shall be a matter of +strict confidence. And having shook hands over it, Mr. Snivel seizes the +pen and writes an order of release, commanding the jailer to set at +liberty one Tom Swiggs, committed as a vagrant upon a justice's warrant, +&c., &c., &c. "There," says Justice Snivel, "the thing is done--now for +a kiss;" and the fair girl permits him to kiss her brow. "Me too; the +bench and the bar!" rejoins the Judge, following the example of his +junior. And with an air of triumph the victorious girl bears away what +at this moment she values a prize. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +IN WHICH TOM SWIGGS GAINS HIS LIBERTY, AND WHAT BEFALLS HIM. + + +Anna gives George Mullholland the letter of release, and on the +succeeding morning he is seen entering at the iron gate of the wall that +encloses the old prison. "Bread! give me bread," greets his ear as soon +as he enters the sombre old pile. He walks through the debtors' floor, +startles as he hears the stifled cry for bread, and contemplates with +pained feelings the wasting forms and sickly faces that everywhere meet +his eye. The same piercing cry grates upon his senses as he sallies +along the damp, narrow aisle of the second floor, lined on both sides +with small, filthy cells, in which are incarcerated men whose crime is +that of having committed "assault and battery," and British seamen +innocent of all crime except that of having a colored skin. If anything +less than a gentleman commit assault and battery, we punish him with +imprisonment; we have no law to punish gentlemen who commit such +offences. + +Along the felon's aisle--in the malarious cells where "poor" murderers +and burglars are chained to die of the poisonous atmosphere, the same +cry tells its mournful tale. Look into the dark vista of this little +passage, and you will see the gleaming of flabby arms and shrunken +hands. Glance into the apertures out of which they protrude so +appealingly, you will hear the dull clank of chains, see the glare of +vacant eyes, and shudder at the pale, cadaverous faces of beings +tortured with starvation. A low, hoarse whisper, asks you for bread; a +listless countenance quickens at your footfall. Oh! could you but feel +the emotion that has touched that shrunken form which so despondingly +waits the coming of a messenger of mercy. That system of cruelty to +prisoners which so disgraced England during the last century, and which +for her name she would were erased from her history, we preserve here in +all its hideousness. The Governor knows nothing, and cares nothing about +the prison; the Attorney-General never darkens its doors; the public +scarce give a thought for those within its walls--and to one man, Mr. +Hardscrabble, is the fate of these wretched beings entrusted. And so +prone has become the appetite of man to speculate on the misfortunes of +his fellow-man, that this good man, as we shall call him, tortures thus +the miserable beings entrusted to his keeping, and makes it a means of +getting rich. Pardon, reader, this digression. + +George, elated with the idea of setting Tom at liberty, found the young +theologian at the prison, and revealed to him the fact that he had got +the much-desired order. To the latter this seemed strange--not that such +a person as George could have succeeded in what he had tried in vain to +effect, but that there was a mystery about it. It is but justice to say +that the young theologian had for six months used every exertion in his +power, without avail, to procure an order of release. He had appealed to +the Attorney-General, who declared himself powerless, but referred him +to the Governor. The Governor could take no action in the premises, and +referred him to the Judge of the Sessions. The Judge of the Sessions +doubted his capacity to interfere, and advised a petition to the Clerk +of the Court. The Clerk of the Court, who invariably took it upon +himself to correct the judge's dictum, decided that the judge could not +interfere, the case being a committal by a Justice of the Peace, and not +having been before the sessions. And against these high +functionaries--the Governor, Attorney-General, Judge of the Sessions, +and Clerk of the Court, was Mr. Soloman and Mrs. Swiggs all-powerful. +There was, however, another power superior to all, and that we have +described in the previous chapter. + +Accompanied by the brusque old jailer, George and the young theologian +make their way to the cell in which Tom is confined. + +"Hallo! Tom," exclaims George, as he enters the cell, "boarding at the +expense of the State yet, eh?" Tom lay stretched on a blanket in one +corner of the cell, his faithful old friend, the sailor, watching over +him with the solicitude of a brother. "I don't know how he'd got on if +it hadn't bin for the old sailor, yonder," says the jailer, pointing to +Spunyarn, who is crouched down at the great black fireplace, blowing the +coals under a small pan. "He took to Tom when he first came in, and +hasn't left him for a day. He'll steal to supply Tom's hunger, and fight +if a prisoner attempts to impose upon his charge. He has rigged him out, +you see, with his pea-coat and overalls," continues the man, folding his +arms. + +"I am sorry, Tom--" + +"Yes," says Tom, interrupting the young theologian, "I know you are. You +don't find me to have kept my word; and because I haven't you don't find +me improved much. I can't get out; and if I can't get out, what's the +use of my trying to improve? I don't say this because I don't want to +improve. I have no one living who ought to care for me, but my mother. +And she has shown what she cares for me." + +"Everything is well. (The young theologian takes Tom by the hand.) We +have got your release. You are a free man, now." + +"My release!" exclaims the poor outcast, starting to his feet, "my +release?" + +"Yes," kindly interposes the jailer, "you may go, Tom. Stone walls, +bolts and chains have no further use for you." The announcement brings +tears to his eyes; he cannot find words to give utterance to his +emotions. He drops the young theologian's hand, grasps warmly that of +George Mullholland, and says, the tears falling fast down his cheeks, +"now I will be a new man." + +"God bless Tom," rejoins the old sailor, who has left the fireplace and +joined in the excitement of the moment. "I alwas sed there war better +weather ahead, Tom." He pats him encouragingly on the shoulder, and +turns to the bystanders, continuing with a childlike frankness: "he's +alwas complained with himself about breaking his word and honor with +you, sir--" + +The young theologian says the temptation was more than he could +withstand. + +"Yes sir!--that was it. He, poor fellow, wasn't to blame. One brought +him in a drop, and challenged him; then another brought him in a drop, +and challenged him; and the vote-cribber would get generous now and +then, and bring him a drop, saying how he would like to crib him if he +was only out, on the general election coming on, and make him take a +drop of what he called election whiskey. And you know, sir, it's hard +for a body to stand up against all these things, specially when a body's +bin disappointed in love. It's bin a hard up and down with him. To-day +he would make a bit of good weather, and to-morrow he'd be all up in a +hurricane." And the old sailor takes a fresh quid of tobacco, wipes +Tom's face, gets the brush and fusses over him, and tells him to cheer +up, now that he has got his clearance. + +"Tom would know if his mother ordered it." + +"No! she must not know that you are at large," rejoins George. + +"Not that I am at large?" + +"I have," interposes the young theologian, "provided a place for you. We +have a home for you, a snug little place at the house of old McArthur--" + +"Old McArthur," interpolates Tom, smiling, "I'm not a curiosity." + +George Mullholland says he may make love to Maria, that she will once +more be a sister. Touched by the kindly act on his behalf, Tom replies +saying she was always kind to him, watched over him when no one else +would, and sought with tender counsels to effect his reform, to make him +forget his troubles. + +"Thank you!--my heart thanks you more forcibly than my tongue can. I +feel a man. I won't touch drink again: no I won't. You won't find me +breaking my honor this time. A sick at heart man, like me, has no power +to buffet disappointment. I was a wretch, and like a wretch without a +mother's sympathy, found relief only in drinks--" + +"And such drinks!" interposes the old sailor, shrugging his shoulders. +"Good weather, and a cheer up, now and then, from a friend, would have +saved him." + +Now there appears in the doorway, the stalworth figure of the +vote-cribber, who, with sullen face, advances mechanically toward Tom, +pauses and regards him with an air of suspicion. "You are not what you +ought to be, Tom," he says, doggedly, and turns to the young Missionary. +"Parson," he continues, "this 'ere pupil of yourn's a hard un. He isn't +fit for respectable society. Like a sponge, he soaks up all the whiskey +in jail." The young man turns upon him a look more of pity than scorn, +while the jailer shakes his head admonishingly. The vote-cribber +continues insensible to the admonition. He, be it known, is a character +of no small importance in the political world. Having a sort of sympathy +for the old jail he views his transient residences therein rather +necessary than otherwise. As a leading character is necessary to every +grade of society, so also does he plume himself the aristocrat of the +prison. Persons committed for any other than offences against the +election laws, he holds in utter contempt. Indeed, he says with a good +deal of truth, that as fighting is become the all necessary +qualification of our Senators and Representatives to Congress, he thinks +of offering himself for the next vacancy. The only rival he fears is +"handsome Charley."[2] The accommodations are not what they might be, +but, being exempt from rent and other items necessary to a prominent +politician, he accepts them as a matter of economy. + +[Footnote 2: An election bully, the ugliest man in Charleston, and the +deadly foe of Mingle.] + +The vote-cribber is sure of being set free on the approach of an +election. We may as well confess it before the world--he is an +indispensable adjunct to the creating, of Legislators, Mayors, +Congressmen, and Governors. Whiskey is not more necessary to the +reputation of our mob-politicians than are the physical powers of Milman +Mingle to the success of the party he honors with his services. Nor do +his friends scruple at consulting him on matters of great importance to +the State while in his prison sanctuary. + +"I'm out to-morrow, parson," he resumes; the massive fingers of his +right hand wandering into his crispy, red beard, and again over his +scarred face. "Mayor's election comes off two weeks from +Friday--couldn't do without me--can knock down any quantity of men--you +throw a plumper, I take it?" The young Missionary answers in the +negative by shaking his head, while the kind old sailor continues to +fuss over and prepare Tom for his departure. "Tom is about to leave us," +says the old sailor, by way of diverting the vote-cribber's attention. +That dignitary, so much esteemed by our fine old statesmen, turns to +Tom, and inquires if he has a vote. + +Tom has a vote, but declares he will not give it to the vote-cribber's +party. The politician says "p'raps," and draws from his bosom a small +flask. "Whiskey, Tom," he says,--"no use offering it to parsons, eh? (he +casts an insinuating look at the parson.) First-chop election whiskey--a +sup and we're friends until I get you safe under the lock of my crib. +Our Senators to Congress patronize this largely." The forlorn freeman, +with a look of contempt for the man who thus upbraids him, dashes the +drug upon the floor, to the evident chagrin of the politician, who, to +conceal his feelings, turns to George Mulholland, and mechanically +inquires if _he_ has a vote. Being answered in the negative, he picks up +his flask and walks away, saying: "what rubbish!" + +Accompanied by his friends and the old sailor, Tom sallies forth into +the atmosphere of sweet freedom. As the old jailer swings back the outer +gate, Spunyarn grasps his friend and companion in sorrow warmly by the +hand, his bronzed face brightens with an air of satisfaction, and like +pure water gushing from the rude rock his eyes fill with tears. How +honest, how touching, how pure the friendly lisp--good bye! "Keep up a +strong heart, Tom,--never mind me. I don't know by what right I'm kept +here, and starved; but I expect to get out one of these days; and when I +do you may reckon on me as your friend. Keep the craft in good trim till +then; don't let the devil get master. Come and see us now and then, and +above all, never give up the ship during a storm." Tom's emotions are +too deeply touched. He has no reply to make, but presses in silence the +hand of the old sailor, takes his departure, and turns to wave him an +adieu. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + +IN WHICH THERE IS AN INTERESTING MEETING. + + +Our very chivalric dealers in human merchandise, like philosophers and +philanthropists, are composed merely of flesh and blood, while their +theories are alike influenced by circumstances. Those of the first, we +(the South) are, at times, too apt to regard as sublimated and refined, +while we hold the practices of the latter such as divest human nature of +everything congenial. Nevertheless we can assure our readers that there +does not exist a class of men who so much pride themselves on their +chivalry as some of our opulent slave-dealers. Did we want proof to +sustain what we have said we could not do better than refer to Mr. +Forsheu, that very excellent gentleman. Mrs. Swiggs held him in high +esteem, and so far regarded his character for piety and chivalry +unblemished, that she consigned to him her old slave of seventy +years--old Molly. Molly must be sold, the New York Tract Society must +have a mite, and Sister Abijah Slocum's very laudable enterprise of +getting Brother Singleton Spyke off to Antioch must be encouraged. And +Mr. Forsheu is very kind to the old people he sells. It would, indeed, +be difficult for the distant reader to conceive a more striking instance +of a man, grown rich in a commerce that blunts all the finer qualities +of our nature, preserving a gentleness, excelled only by his real +goodness of heart. + +When the old slave, leaning on her crutch, stood before Mr. Forsheu, her +face the very picture of age and starvation, his heart recoiled at the +thought of selling her in her present condition. He read the letter she +bore, contemplated her with an air of pity, and turning to Mr. Benbow, +his methodical book-keeper of twenty years, who had added and subtracted +through a wilderness of bodies and souls, ordered him to send the +shrunken old woman into the pen, on feed. Mr. Forsheu prided himself on +the quality of people sold at his shambles, and would not for the world +hazard his reputation on old Molly, till she was got in better +condition. Molly rather liked this, inasmuch as she had been fed on corn +and prayers exclusively, and more prayers than corn, which is become the +fashion with our much-reduced first families. For nearly four months she +enjoyed, much to the discomfiture of her august owner, the comforts of +Mr. Forsheu's pen. Daily did the anxious old lady study her Milton, and +dispatch a slave to inquire if her piece of aged property had found a +purchaser. The polite vender preserved, with uncommon philosophy, his +temper. He enjoined patience. The condition and age of the property +were, he said, much in the way of sale. Then Mrs. Swiggs began +questioning his ability as a merchant. Aspersions of this kind, the +polite vender of people could not bear with. He was a man of enormous +wealth, the result of his skill in the sale of people. He was the +president of an insurance company, a bank director, a commissioner of +the orphan asylum, and a steward of the jockey club. To his great +relief, for he began to have serious misgivings about his outlay on old +Molly, there came along one day an excellent customer. This was no less +a person than Madame Flamingo. What was singular of this very +distinguished lady was, that she always had a use for old slaves no one +else ever thought of. Her yard was full of aged and tottering humanity. +One cleaned knives, another fetched ice from the ice-house, a third +blacked boots, a fourth split wood, a fifth carried groceries, and a +sixth did the marketing. She had a decayed negro for the smallest +service; and, to her credit be it said, they were as contented and well +fed a body of tottering age as could be found in old Carolina. + +Her knife-cleaning machine having taken it into his head to die one day, +she would purchase another. Mr Forsheu, with that urbanity we so well +understand how to appreciate, informed the distinguished lady that he +had an article exactly suited to her wants. Forthwith, Molly was +summoned into her presence. Madame Flamingo, moved almost to tears at +the old slave's appearance, purchased her out of pure sympathy, as we +call it, and to the great relief of Mr. Forsheu, lost no time in paying +one hundred and forty dollars down in gold for her. In deference to Mr. +Hadger, the House of The Foreign Missions, and the very excellent Tract +Society, of New York, we will not here extend on how the money was got. +The transaction was purely commercial: why should humanity interpose? We +hold it strictly legal that institutions created for the purpose of +enlightening the heathen have no right to ask by what means the money +constituting their donations is got. + +The comforts of Mr. Forsheu's pen,--the hominy, grits, and rest, made +the old slave quite as reluctant about leaving him as she had before +been in parting with Lady Swiggs. Albeit, she shook his hand with equal +earnestness, and lisped "God bless Massa," with a tenderness and +simplicity so touching, that had not Madame Flamingo been an excellent +diplomat, reconciling the matter by assuring her that she would get +enough to eat, and clothes to wear, no few tears would have been shed. +Madame, in addition to this incentive, intimated that she might attend a +prayer meeting now and then--perhaps see Cicero. However, Molly could +easily have forgotten Cicero, inasmuch as she had enjoyed the rare +felicity of thirteen husbands, all of whom Lady Swiggs had sold when it +suited her own convenience. + +Having made her purchase, Madame very elegantly bid the gallant merchant +good morning, hoping he would not forget her address, and call round +when it suited his convenience. Mr. Forsheu, his hat doffed, escorted +her to her carriage, into the amber-colored lining of which she +gracefully settled her majestic self, as a slightly-browned gentleman in +livery closed the bright door, took her order with servile bows, and +having motioned to the coachman, the carriage rolled away, and was soon +out of sight. Monsieur Gronski, it may be well to add here, was +discovered curled up in one corner; he smiled, and extended his hand +very graciously to Madame as she entered the carriage. + +Like a pilgrim in search of some promised land, Molly adjusted her +crutch, and over the sandy road trudged, with truculent face, to her new +home, humming to herself "dah-is-a-time-a-comin, den da Lor' he be +good!!" + +On the following morning, Lady Swiggs received her account current, Mr. +Forsheu being exceedingly prompt in business. There was one hundred and +twenty-nine days' feed, commissions, advertising, and sundry smaller +charges, which reduced the net balance to one hundred and three dollars. +Mrs. Swiggs, with an infatuation kindred to that which finds the State +blind to its own poverty, stubbornly refused to believe her slaves had +declined in value. Hence she received the vender's account with surprise +and dissatisfaction. However, the sale being binding, she gradually +accommodated her mind to the result, and began evolving the question of +how to make the amount meet the emergency. She must visit the great city +of New York; she must see Sister Slocum face to face; Brother Spyke's +mission must have fifty dollars; how much could she give the Tract +Society? Here was a dilemma--one which might have excited the sympathy +of the House of the "Foreign Missions." The dignity of the family, too, +was at stake. Many sleepless nights did this difficult matter cause the +august old lady. She thought of selling another cripple! Oh! that would +not do. Mr. Keepum had a lien on them; Mr. Keepum was a man of +iron-heart. Suddenly it flashed upon her mind that she had already been +guilty of a legal wrong in selling old Molly. Mr. Soloman had doubtless +described her with legal minuteness in the bond of security for the two +hundred dollars. Her decrepit form; her corrugated face; her heavy lip; +her crutch, and her piety--everything, in a word, but her starvation, +had been set down. Well! Mr. Soloman might, she thought, overlook in the +multiplicity of business so small a discrepancy. She, too, had a large +circle of distinguished friends. If the worst came to the worst she +would appeal to them. There, too, was Sir Sunderland Swiggs' portrait, +very valuable for its age; she might sell the family arms, such things +being in great demand with the chivalry; her antique furniture, too, +was highly prized by our first families. Thus Lady Swiggs contemplated +these mighty relics of past greatness. Our celtic Butlers and Brookses +never recurred to the blood of their querulous ancestors with more awe +than did this memorable lady to her decayed relics. Mr. Israel Moses, +she cherished a hope, would give a large sum for the portrait; the +family arms he would value at a high figure; the old furniture he would +esteem a prize. But to Mr. Moses and common sense, neither the blood of +the Butlers, nor Lady Swiggs' rubbish, were safe to loan money upon. The +Hebrew gentleman was not so easily beguiled. + +The time came when it was necessary to appeal to Mr. Hadger. That +gentleman held the dignity of the Swiggs family in high esteem, but +shook his head when he found the respectability of the house the only +security offered in exchange for a loan. Ah! a thought flashed to her +relief, the family watch and chain would beguile the Hebrew gentleman. +With these cherished mementoes of the high old family, (she would under +no other circumstance have parted with for uncounted gold,) she in time +seduced Mr. Israel Moses to make a small advance. Duty, stern and +demanding, called her to New York. Forced to reduce her generosity, she, +not without a sigh, made up her mind to give only thirty dollars to each +of the institutions she had made so many sacrifices to serve. And thus, +with a reduced platform, as our politicians have it, she set about +preparing for the grand journey. Regards the most distinguished were +sent to all the first families; the St. Cecilia had notice of her +intended absence; no end of tea parties were given in honor of the +event. Apparently happy with herself, with every one but poor Tom, our +august lady left in the Steamer one day. With a little of that vanity +the State deals so largely in, Mrs. Swiggs thought every passenger on +board wondering and staring at her. + +While then she voyages and dreams of the grand reception waiting her in +New York,--of Sister Slocum's smiles, of the good of the heathen world, +and of those nice evening gatherings she will enjoy with the pious, let +us, gentle reader, look in at the house of Absalom McArthur. + +To-day Tom Swiggs feels himself free, and it is high noon. Downcast of +countenance he wends his way along the fashionable side of King-street. +The young theologian is at his side. George Mullholland has gone to the +house of Madame Flamingo. He will announce the glad news to Anna. The +old antiquarian dusts his little counter with a stubby broom, places +various curiosities in the windows, and about the doors, stands +contemplating them with an air of satisfaction, then proceeds to drive a +swarm of flies that hover upon the ceiling, into a curiously-arranged +trap that he has set. + +"What!--my young friend, Tom Swiggs!" exclaims the old man, toddling +toward Tom, and grasping firmly his hand, as he enters the door. "You +are welcome to my little place, which shall be a home." Tom hangs down +his head, receives the old man's greeting with shyness. "Your poor +father and me, Tom, used to sit here many a time. (The old man points to +an old sofa.) We were friends. He thought much of me, and I had a high +opinion of him; and so we used to sit for hours, and talk over the deeds +of the old continentals. Your mother and him didn't get along over-well +together; she had more dignity than he could well digest: but that is +neither here nor there." + +"I hope, in time," interrupts Tom, "to repay your kindness. I am willing +to ply myself to work, though it degrades one in the eyes of our +society." + +"As to that," returns the old man, "why, don't mention it. Maria, you +know, will be a friend to you. Come away now and see her." And taking +Tom by the hand, (the theologian has withdrawn,) he becomes +enthusiastic, leads him through the dark, narrow passage into the back +parlor, where he is met by Maria, and cordially welcomed. "Why, Tom, +what a change has come over you," she ejaculates, holding his hand, and +viewing him with the solicitude of a sister, who hastens to embrace a +brother returned after a long absence. Letting fall his begrimed hand, +she draws up the old-fashioned rocking chair, and bids him be seated. He +shakes his head moodily, says he is not so bad as he seems, and hopes +yet to make himself worthy of her kindness. He has been the associate of +criminals; he has suffered punishment; he feels himself loathed by +society; he cannot divest himself of the odium clinging to his garments. +Fain would he go to some distant clime, and there seek a refuge from the +odium of felons. + +"Let no such thoughts enter your mind, Tom," says the affectionate girl; +"divest yourself at once of feelings that can only do you injury. You +have engaged my thoughts during your troubles. Twice I begged your +mother to honor me with an interview. We were humble people; she +condescended at last. But she turned a deaf ear to me when I appealed to +her for your release, merely inquiring if--like that other jade--I had +become enamored of--" Maria pauses, blushing. + +"I would like to see my mother," interposes Tom. + +"Had I belonged to our grand society, the case had been different," +resumes Maria. + +"Truly, Maria," stammers Tom, "had I supposed there was one in the world +who cared for me, I had been a better man." + +"As to that, why we were brought up together, Tom. We knew each other as +children, and what else but respect could I have for you? One never +knows how much others think of them, for the--" Maria blushes, checks +herself, and watches the changes playing over Tom's countenance. She was +about to say the tongue of love was too often silent. + +It must be acknowledged that Maria had, for years, cherished a passion +for Tom. He, however, like many others of his class, was too stupid to +discover it. The girl, too, had been overawed by the dignity of his +mother. Thus, with feelings of pain did she watch the downward course of +one in whose welfare she took a deep interest. + +"Very often those for whom we cherish the fondest affections, are +coldest in their demeanor towards us," pursues Maria. + +"Can she have thought of me so much as to love me?" Tom questions within +himself; and Maria put an end to the conversation by ringing the bell, +commanding the old servant to hasten dinner. A plate must be placed at +the table for Tom. + +The antiquarian, having, as he says, left the young people to +themselves, stands at his counter furbishing up sundry old engravings, +horse-pistols, pieces of coat-of-mail, and two large scimitars, all of +which he has piled together in a heap, and beside which lay several +chapeaus said to have belonged to distinguished Britishers. Mr. Soloman +suddenly makes his appearance in the little shop, much to Mr. McArthur's +surprise. "Say--old man! centurion!" he exclaims, in a maudlin laugh, +"Keepum's in the straps--is, I do declare; Gadsden and he bought a lot +of niggers--a monster drove of 'em, on shares. He wants that trifle of +borrowed money--must have it. Can have it back in a few days." + +"Bless me," interrupts the old man, confusedly, "but off my little +things it will be hard to raise it. Times is hard, our people go, like +geese, to the North. They get rid of all their money there, and their +fancy--you know that, Mr. Snivel--is abroad, while they have, for home, +only a love to keep up slavery." + +"I thought it would come to that," says Mr. Snivel, facetiously. The +antiquarian seems bewildered, commences offering excuses that rather +involve himself deeper, and finally concludes by pleading for a delay. +Scarce any one would have thought a person of Mr. McArthur's position, +indebted to Mr. Keepum; but so it was. It is very difficult to tell +whose negroes are not mortgaged to Mr. Keepum, how many mortgages of +plantation he has foreclosed, how many high old families he has reduced +to abject poverty, or how many poor but respectable families he has +disgraced. He has a reputation for loaning money to parents, that he may +rob their daughters of that jewel the world refuses to give them back. +And yet our best society honor him, fawn over him, and bow to him. We so +worship the god of slavery, that our minds are become debased, and yet +we seem unconscious of it. Mr. Keepum did not lend money to the old +antiquarian without a purpose. That purpose, that justice which +accommodates itself to the popular voice, will aid him in gaining. + +Mr. Snivel affects a tone of moderation, whispers in the old man's ear, +and says: "Mind you tell the fortune of this girl, Bonard, as I have +directed. Study what I have told you. If she be not the child of Madame +Montford, then no faith can be put in likenesses. I have got in my +possession what goes far to strengthen the suspicions now rife +concerning the fashionable New Yorker." + +"There surely is a mystery about this woman, Mr. Snivel, as you say. She +has so many times looked in here to inquire about Mag Munday, a woman in +a curious line of life who came here, got down in the world, as they all +do, and used now and then to get the loan of a trifle from me to keep +her from starvation." (Mr. Snivel says, in parentheses, he knows all +about her.) + +"Ha! ha! my old boy," says Mr. Snivel, frisking his fingers through his +light Saxon beard, "I have had this case in hand for some time. It is +strictly a private matter, nevertheless. They are a bad lot--them New +Yorkers, who come here to avoid their little delicate affairs. I may yet +make a good thing out of this, though. As for that fellow, Mullholland, +I intend getting him the whipping post. He is come to be the associate +of gentlemen; men high in office shower upon him their favors. It is all +to propitiate the friendship of Bonard--I know it." Mr. Snivel concludes +hurriedly, and departs into the street, as our scene changes. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + +ANNA BONARD SEEKS AN INTERVIEW WITH THE ANTIQUARY. + + +It is night. King street seems in a melancholy mood, the blue arch of +heaven is bespangled with twinkling stars, the moon has mounted her high +throne, and her beams, like messengers of love, dance joyously over the +calm waters of the bay, so serenely skirted with dark woodland. The dull +tramp of the guardman's horse now breaks the stillness; then the +measured tread of the heavily-armed patrol, with which the city swarms +at night, echoes and re-echoes along the narrow streets. A theatre +reeking with the fumes of whiskey and tobacco; a sombre-looking +guard-house, bristling with armed men, who usher forth to guard the +fears of tyranny, or drag in some wretched slave; a dilapidated "Court +House," at the corner, at which lazy-looking men lounge; a castellated +"Work House," so grand without, and so full of bleeding hearts within; a +"Poor House" on crutches, and in which infirm age and poverty die of +treatment that makes the heart sicken--these are all the public +buildings we can boast. Like ominous mounds, they seem sleeping in the +calm and serene night. Ah! we had almost forgotten the sympathetic old +hospital, with its verandas; the crabbed looking "City Hall," with its +port holes; and the "Citadel," in which, when our youths have learned to +fight duels, we learn them how to fight their way out of the Union. +Duelling is our high art; getting out of the Union is our low. And, too, +we have, and make no small boast that we have, two or three buildings +called "Halls." In these our own supper-eating men riot, our soldiers +drill (soldiering is our presiding genius), and our mob-politicians +waste their spleen against the North. Unlike Boston, towering all bright +and vigorous in the atmosphere of freedom, we have no galleries of +statuary; no conservatories of paintings; no massive edifices of marble, +dedicated to art and science; no princely school-houses, radiating their +light of learning over a peace and justice-loving community; no majestic +exchange, of granite and polished marble, so emblematic of a thrifty +commerce;--we have no regal "State House" on the lofty hill, no +glittering colleges everywhere striking the eye. The god of slavery--the +god we worship, has no use for such temples; public libraries are his +prison; his civilization is like a dull dead march; he is the enemy of +his own heart, vitiating and making drear whatever he touches. He wages +war on art, science, civilization! he trembles at the sight of temples +reared for the enlightening of the masses. Tyranny is his law, a +cotton-bag his judgment-seat. But we pride ourselves that we are a +respectable people--what more would you have us? + +The night is chilly without, in the fireplace of the antiquary's back +parlor there burns a scanty wood fire. Tom has eaten his supper and +retired to a little closet-like room overhead, where, in bed, he muses +over what fell from Maria's lips, in their interview. Did she really +cherish a passion for him? had her solicitude in years past something +more than friendship in it? what did she mean? He was not one of those +whose place in a woman's heart could never be supplied. How would an +alliance with Maria affect his mother's dignity? All these things Tom +evolves over and over in his mind. In point of position, a mechanic's +daughter was not far removed from the slave; a mechanic's daughter was +viewed only as a good object of seduction for some nice young gentleman. +Antiquarians might get a few bows of planter's sons, the legal gentry, +and cotton brokers (these make up our aristocracy), but practically no +one would think of admitting them into decent society. They, of right, +belong to that vulgar herd that live by labor at which the slave can be +employed. To be anything in the eyes of good society, you must only live +upon the earnings of slaves. + +"Why," says Tom, "should I consult the dignity of a mother who discards +me? The love of this lone daughter of the antiquary, this girl who +strives to know my wants, and to promote my welfare, rises superior to +all. I will away with such thoughts! I will be a man!" Maria, with eager +eye and thoughtful countenance, sits at the little antique centre-table, +reading Longfellow's Evangeline, by the pale light of a candle. A lurid +glare is shed over the cavern-like place. The reflection plays curiously +upon the corrugated features of the old man, who, his favorite cat at +his side, reclines on a stubby little sofa, drawn well up to the fire. +The poet would not select Maria as his ideal of female loveliness; and +yet there is a touching modesty in her demeanor, a sweet smile ever +playing over her countenance, an artlessness in her conversation that +more than makes up for the want of those charms novel writers are +pleased to call transcendent. "Father!" she says, pausing, "some one +knocks at the outer door." The old man starts and listens, then hastens +to open it. There stands before him the figure of a strange female, +veiled. "I am glad to find you, old man. Be not suspicious of my coming +at this hour, for my mission is a strange one." The old man's crooked +eyes flash, his deep curling lip quivers, his hand vibrates the candle +he holds before him. "If on a mission to do nobody harm," he responds, +"then you are welcome." "You will pardon me; I have seen you before. You +have wished me well," she whispers in a musical voice. Gracefully she +raises her veil over her Spanish hood, and advances cautiously, as the +old man closes the door behind her. Then she uncovers her head, +nervously. The white, jewelled fingers of her right hand, so delicate +and tapering, wander over and smooth her silky black hair, that falls in +waves over her Ion-like brow. How exquisite those features just +revealed; how full of soul those flashing black eyes; her dress, how +chaste! "They call me Anna Bonard," she speaks, timorously, "you may +know me?--" + +"Oh, I know you well," interrupts the old man, "your beauty has made you +known. What more would you have?" + +"Something that will make me happy. Old man, I am unhappy. Tell me, if +you have the power, who I am. Am I an orphan, as has been told me; or +have I parents yet living, affluent, and high in society? Do they seek +me and cannot find me? Oh! let the fates speak, old man, for this world +has given me nothing but pain and shame. Am I--" she pauses, her eyes +wander to the floor, her cheeks crimson, she seizes the old man by the +hand, and her bosom heaves as if a fierce passion had just been kindled +within it. + +The old man preserves his equanimity, says he has a fortune to tell her. +Fortunes are best told at midnight. The stars, too, let out their +secrets more willingly when the night-king rules. He bids her follow +him, and totters back to the little parlor. With a wise air, he bids her +be seated on the sofa, saying he never mistakes maidens when they call +at this hour. + +Maria, who rose from the table at the entrance of the stranger, bows, +shuts her book mechanically, and retires. Can there be another face so +lovely? she questions within herself, as she pauses to contemplate the +stranger ere she disappears. The antiquary draws a chair and seats +himself beside Anna. "Thy life and destiny," he says, fretting his bony +fingers over the crown of his wig. "Blessed is the will of providence +that permits us to know the secrets of destiny. Give me your hand, fair +lady." Like a philosopher in deep study, he wipes and adjusts his +spectacles, then takes her right hand and commences reading its lines. +"Your history is an uncommon one--" + +"Yes," interrupts the girl, "mine has been a chequered life." + +"You have seen sorrow enough, but will see more. You come of good +parents; but, ah!--there is a mystery shrouding your birth." ("And that +mystery," interposes the girl, "I want to have explained.") "There will +come a woman to reclaim you--a woman in high life; but she will come too +late--" (The girl pales and trembles.) "Yes," pursues the old man, +looking more studiously at her hand, "she will come too late. You will +have admirers, and even suitors; but they will only betray you, and in +the end you will die of trouble. Ah! there is a line that had escaped +me. You may avert this dark destiny--yes, you may escape the end that +fate has ordained for you. In neglect you came up, the companion of a +man you think true to you. But he is not true to you. Watch him, follow +him--you will yet find him out. Ha! ha! ha! these men are not to be +trusted, my dear. There is but one man who really loves you. He is an +old man, a man of station. He is your only true friend. I here see it +marked." He crosses her hand, and says there can be no mistaking it. +"With that man, fair girl, you may escape the dark destiny. But, above +all things, do not treat him coldly. And here I see by the sign that +Anna Bonard is not your name. The name was given you by a wizard." + +"You are right, old man," speaks Anna, raising thoughtfully her great +black eyes, as the antiquary pauses and watches each change of her +countenance; "that name was given me by Hag Zogbaum, when I was a child +in her den, in New York, and when no one cared for me. What my right +name was has now slipped my memory. I was indeed a wretched child, and +know little of myself." + +"Was it Munday?" inquires the old man. Scarce has he lisped the name +before she catches it up and repeats it, incoherently, "Munday! Munday! +Munday!" her eyes flash with anxiety. "Ah, I remember now. I was called +Anna Munday by Mother Bridges. I lived with her before I got to the den +of Hag Zogbaum. And Mother Bridges sold apples at a stand at the corner +of a street, on West street. It seems like a dream to me now. I do not +want to recall those dark days or my childhood. Have you not some +revelation to make respecting my parents?" The old man says the signs +will not aid him further. "On my arm," she pursues, baring her white, +polished arm, "there is a mark. I know not who imprinted it there. See, +old man." The old man sees high up on her right arm two hearts and a +broken anchor, impressed with India ink blue and red. "Yes," repeats the +antiquary, viewing it studiously, "but it gives out no history. If you +could remember who put it there." Of that she has no recollection. The +old man cannot relieve her anxiety, and arranging her hood she bids him +good night, forces a piece of gold into his hand, and seeks her home, +disappointed. + +The antiquary's predictions were founded on what Mr. Soloman Snivel had +told him, and that gentleman got what he knew of Anna's history from +George Mullholland. To this, however, he added what suggestions his +suspicions gave rise to. The similarity of likeness between Anna and +Madame Montford was striking; Madame Montford's mysterious searches and +inquiries for the woman Munday had something of deep import in them. Mag +Munday's strange disappearance from Charleston, and her previous +importuning for the old dress left in pawn with McArthur, were not to be +overlooked. These things taken together, and Mr. Snivel saw a case there +could be no mistaking. That case became stronger when his fashionable +friend engaged his services to trace out what had become of the woman +Mag Munday, and to further ascertain what the girl Anna Bonard knew of +her own history. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + +A SECRET INTERVIEW. + + +While the scene we have related in the foregoing chapter was being +enacted, there might be seen pacing the great colonnade of the +Charleston hotel, the tall figure of a man wrapped in a massive talma. +Heedless of the throng of drinkers gathered in the spacious bar-room, +making the very air echo with their revelry, he pauses every few +moments, watches intently up and then down Meeting street, now +apparently contemplating the twinkling stars, then turning as if +disappointed, and resuming his sallies. "He will not come to night," he +mutters, as he pauses at the "Ladies' door," then turns and rings the +bell. The well-dressed and highly-perfumed servant who guards the door, +admits him with a scrutinizing eye. "Beg pardon," he says, with a +mechanical bow. He recognizes the stranger, bows, and motions his hands. +"Twice," continues the servant, "she has sent a messenger to inquire of +your coming." The figure in the talma answers with a bow, slips +something into the hand of the servant, passes softly up the great +stairs, and is soon lost to sight. In another minute he enters, without +knocking, a spacious parlor, decorated and furnished most sumptuously. +"How impatiently I have waited your coming," whispers, cautiously, a +richly-dressed lady, as she rises from a velvet covered lounge, on which +she had reclined, and extends her hand to welcome him. + +"Madame, your most obedient," returns the man, bowing and holding her +delicate hand in his. "You have something of importance,--something to +relieve my mind?" she inquires, watching his lips, trembling, and in +anxiety. "Nothing definite," he replies, touching her gently on the arm, +as she begs him to be seated in the great arm-chair. He lays aside his +talma, places his gloves on the centre-table, which is heaped with an +infinite variety of delicately-enveloped missives and cards, all +indicative of her position in fashionable society. "I may say, Madame, +that I sympathize with you in your anxiety; but as yet I have discovered +nothing to relieve it." Madame sighs, and draws her chair near him, in +silence. "That she is the woman you seek I cannot doubt. While on the +Neck, I penetrated the shanty of one Thompson, a poor mechanic--our +white mechanics, you see, are very poor, and not much thought of--who +had known her, given her a shelter, and several times saved her from +starvation. Then she left the neighborhood and took to living with a +poor wretch of a shoemaker." + +"Poor creature," interrupts Madame Montford, for it is she whom Mr. +Snivel addresses. "If she be dead--oh, dear! That will be the end. I +never shall know what became of that child. And to die ignorant of its +fate will--" Madame pauses, her color changes, she seems seized with +some violent emotion. Mr. Snivel perceives her agitation, and begs she +will remain calm. "If that child had been my own," she resumes, "the +responsibility had not weighed heavier on my conscience. Wealth, +position, the pleasures of society--all sink into insignificance when +compared with my anxiety for the fate of that child. It is like an arrow +piercing my heart, like a phantom haunting me in my dreams, like an +evil spirit waking me at night to tell me I shall die an unhappy woman +for having neglected one I was bound by the commands of God to +protect--to save, perhaps, from a life of shame." She lets fall the +satin folds of her dress, buries her face in her hands, and gives vent +to her tears in loud sobs. Mr. Snivel contemplates her agitation with +unmoved muscle. To him it is a true index to the sequel. "If you will +pardon me, Madame," he continues, "as I was about to say of this +miserable shoemaker, he took to drink, as all our white mechanics do, +and then used to abuse her. We don't think anything of these people, you +see, who after giving themselves up to whiskey, die in the poor house, a +terrible death. This shoemaker, of whom I speak, died, and she was +turned into the streets by her landlord, and that sent her to living +with a 'yellow fellow,' as we call them. Soon after this she died--so +report has it. We never know much, you see, about these common people. +They are a sort of trash we can make nothing of, and they get terribly +low now and then." Madame Montford's swelling breast heaves, her +countenance wears an air of melancholy; again she nervously lays aside +the cloud-like skirts of her brocade dress. "Have you not," she +inquires, fretting her jewelled fingers and displaying the massive gold +bracelets that clasp her wrists, "some stronger evidence of her death?" +Mr. Snivel says he has none but what he gathered from the negroes and +poor mechanics, who live in the by-lanes of the city. There is little +dependence, however, to be placed in such reports. Madame, with an air +of composure, rises from her chair, and paces twice or thrice across the +room, seemingly in deep study. "Something," she speaks, stopping +suddenly in one of her sallies--"something (I do not know what it is) +tells me she yet lives: that this is the child we see, living an +abandoned life." + +"As I was going on to say, Madame," pursues Mr. Snivel, with great +blandness of manner, "when our white trash get to living with our +negroes they are as well as dead. One never knows what comes of them +after that. Being always ready to do a bit of a good turn, as you know, +I looked in at Sam Wiley's cabin. Sam Wiley is a negro of some +respectability, and generally has an eye to what becomes of these white +wretches. I don't--I assure you I don't, Madame--look into these places +except on professional business. Sam, after making inquiry among his +neighbors--our colored population view these people with no very good +opinion, when they get down in the world--said he thought she had found +her way through the gates of the poor man's graveyard." + +"Poor man's graveyard!" repeats Madame Montford, again resuming her +chair. + +"Exactly! We have to distinguish between people of position and those +white mechanics who come here from the North, get down in the world, and +then die. We can't sell this sort of people, you see. No keeping their +morals straight without you can. However, this is not to the point. (Mr. +Solomon Snivel keeps his eyes intently fixed upon the lady.) + +"I sought out the old Sexton, a stupid old cove enough. He had neither +names on his record nor graves that answered the purpose. In a legal +sense, Madame, this would not be valid testimony, for this old cove +being only too glad to get rid of our poor, and the fees into his +pocket, is not very particular about names. If it were one of our +'first families,' the old fellow would be so obsequious about having the +name down square--" + +Mr. Snivel frets his fingers through his beard, and bows with an easy +grace. + +"Our first families!" repeats Madame Montford. + +"Yes, indeed! He is extremely correct over their funerals. They are of a +fashionable sort, you see. Well, while I was musing over the decaying +dead, and the distinction between poor dead and rich dead, there came +along one Graves, a sort of wayward, half simpleton, who goes about +among churchyards, makes graves a study, knows where every one who has +died for the last century is tucked away, and is worth six sextons at +pointing out graves. He never knows anything about the living, for the +living, he says, won't let him live; and that being the case, he only +wants to keep up his acquaintance with the dead. He never has a hat to +his head, nor a shoe to his foot; and where, and how he lives, no one +can tell. He has been at the whipping-post a dozen times or more, but +I'm not so sure that the poor wretch ever did anything to merit such +punishment. Just as the crabbed old sexton was going to drive him out of +the gate with a big stick, I says, more in the way of a joke than +anything else: 'Graves, come here!--I want a word or two with you.' He +came up, looking shy and suspicious, and saying he wasn't going to harm +anybody, but there was some fresh graves he was thinking over." + +"Some fresh graves!" repeats Madame Montford, nervously. + +"Bless you!--a very common thing," rejoins Mr. Snivel, with a bow. +"Well, this lean simpleton said they (the graves) were made while he was +sick. That being the case, he was deprived--and he lamented it +bitterly--of being present at the funerals, and getting the names of the +deceased. He is a great favorite with the grave-digger, lends him a +willing hand on all occasions, and is extremely useful when the yellow +fever rages. But to the sexton he is a perfect pest, for if a grave be +made during his absence he will importune until he get the name of the +departed. 'Graves,' says I, 'where do they bury these unfortunate women +who die off so, here in Charleston?' 'Bless you, my friend,' says +Graves, accompanying his words with an idiotic laugh, 'why, there's +three stacks of them, yonder. They ship them from New York in lots, poor +things; they dies here in droves, poor things; and we buries them yonder +in piles, poor things. They go--yes, sir, I have thought a deal of this +thing--fast through life; but they dies, and nobody cares for them--you +see how they are buried.' I inquired if he knew all their names. He said +of course he did. If he didn't, nobody else would. In order to try him, +I desired he would show me the grave of Mag Munday. He shook his head +smiled, muttered the name incoherently, and said he thought it sounded +like a dead name. 'I'll get my thinking right,' he pursued, and +brightening up all at once, his vacant eyes flashed, then he touched me +cunningly on the arm, and with a wink and nod of the head there was no +mistaking, led the way to a great mound located in an obscure part of +the graveyard--" + +"A great mound! I thought it would come to that," sighs Madame Montford, +impatiently. + +"We bury these wretched creatures in an obscure place. Indeed, Madame, I +hold it unnecessary to have anything to distinguish them when once they +are dead. Well, this poor forlorn simpleton then sat down on a grave, +and bid me sit beside him. I did as he bid me, and soon he went into a +deep study, muttering the name of Mag Munday the while, until I thought +he never would stop. So wild and wandering did the poor fellow seem, +that I began to think it a pity we had not a place, an insane hospital, +or some sort of benevolent institution, where such poor creatures could +be placed and cared for. It would be much better than sending them to +the whipping-post--" + +"I am indeed of your opinion--of your way of thinking most certainly," +interpolates Madame Montford, a shadow of melancholy darkening her +countenance. + +"At length, he went at it, and repeated over an infinite quantity of +names. It was wonderful to see how he could keep them all in his head. +'Well, now,' says he, turning to me with an inoffensive laugh, 'she +ben't dead. You may bet on that. There now!' he spoke, as if suddenly +becoming conscious of a recently-made discovery. 'Why, she runned wild +about here, as I does, for a time; was abused and knocked about by +everybody. Oh, she had a hard time enough, God knows that.' 'But that is +not disclosing to me what became of her,' says I; 'come, be serious, +Graves.' (We call him this, you see, Madame, for the reason that he is +always among graveyards.) Then he went into a singing mood, sang two +plaintive songs, and had sung a third and fourth, if I had not stopped +him. 'Well,' he says, 'that woman ain't dead, for I've called up in my +mind the whole graveyard of names, and her's is not among them. Why not, +good gentleman, (he seized me by the arm as he said this,) inquire of +Milman Mingle, the vote-cribber? He is a great politician, never thinks +of poor Graves, and wouldn't look into a graveyard for the world. The +vote-cribber used to live with her, and several times he threatened to +hang her, and would a hanged her--yes, he would, sir--if it hadn't a +been for the neighbors. I don't take much interest in the living, you +know. But I pitied her, poor thing, for she was to be pitied, and there +was nobody but me to do it. Just inquire of the vote-cribber.' I knew +the simpleton never told an untruth, being in no way connected with our +political parties." + +"Never told an untruth, being in no way connected with our political +parties!" repeats Madame Montford, who has become more calm. + +"I gave him a few shillings, he followed me to the gate, and left me +muttering, 'Go, inquire of the vote-cribber.'" + +"And have you found this man?" inquires the anxious lady. + +"I forthwith set about it," replies Mr. Snivel, "but as yet, am +unsuccessful. Nine months during the year his residence is the jail--" + +"The jail!" + +"Yes, Madame, the jail. His profession, although essential to the +elevation of our politicians and statesmen, is nevertheless unlawful. +And he being obliged to practice it in opposition to the law, quietly +submits to the penalty, which is a residence in the old prison for a +short time. It's a nominal thing, you see, and he has become so +habituated to it that I am inclined to the belief that he prefers it. I +proceeded to the prison and found he had been released. One of our +elections comes off in a few days. The approach of such an event is sure +to find him at large. I sought him in all the drinking saloons, in the +gambling dens, in the haunts of prostitution--in all the low places +where our great politicians most do assemble and debauch themselves. He +was not to be found. Being of the opposite party, I despatched a spy to +the haunt of the committee of the party to which he belongs, and for +which he cribs. I have paced the colonnade for more than an hour, +waiting the coming of this spy. He did not return, and knowing your +anxiety in the matter I returned to you. To-morrow I will seek him out; +to-morrow I will get from him what he knows of this woman you seek. + +"And now, Madame, here is something I would have you examine." (Mr. +Snivel methodically says he got it of McArthur, the antiquary.) "She +made a great ado about a dress that contained this letter. I have no +doubt it will tell a tale." Mr. Snivel draws from his breast-pocket the +letter found concealed in the old dress, and passes it to Madame +Montford, who receives it with a nervous hand. Her eyes become fixed +upon it, she glances over its defaced page with an air of bewilderment, +her face crimsons, then suddenly pales, her lips quiver--her every nerve +seems unbending to the shock. "Heavens! has it come to this?" she +mutters, confusedly. Her strength fails her; the familiar letter falls +from her fingers.--For a few moments she seems struggling to suppress +her emotions, but her reeling brain yields, her features become like +marble, she shrieks and swoons ere Mr. Snivel has time to clasp her in +his arms. + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + +LADY SWIGGS ENCOUNTERS DIFFICULTIES ON HER ARRIVAL IN NEW YORK. + + +A pleasant passage of sixty hours, a good shaking up at the hands of +that old tyrant, sea-sickness, and Lady Swiggs finds the steamer on +which she took passage gliding majestically up New York Bay. There she +sits, in all her dignity, an embodiment of our decayed chivalry, a fair +representative of our first families. She has taken up her position on +the upper deck, in front of the wheel house. As one after another the +objects of beauty that make grand the environs of that noble Bay, open +to her astonished eyes, she contrasts them favorably or unfavorably with +some familiar object in Charleston harbor. There is indeed a similarity +in the conformation. And though ours, she says, may not be so extensive, +nor so grand in its outlines, nor so calm and soft in its perspective, +there is a more aristocratic air about it. Smaller bodies are always +more select and respectable. The captain, to whom she has put an hundred +and one questions which he answers in monosyllables, is not, she thinks, +so much of a gentleman as he might have been had he been educated in +Charleston. He makes no distinction in favor of people of rank. + +Lady Swiggs wears that same faded silk dress; her black crape bonnet, +with two saucy red artificial flowers tucked in at the side, sits so +jauntily; that dash of brown hair is smoothed so exactly over her +yellow, shrivelled forehead; her lower jaw oscillates with increased +motion; and her sharp, gray eyes, as before, peer anxiously through her +great-eyed spectacles. And, generous reader, that you may not mistake +her, she has brought her inseparable Milton, which she holds firmly +grasped in her right hand. "You have had a tedious time of it, Madam," +says a corpulent lady, who is extensively dressed and jewelled, and +accosts her with a familiar air. Lady Swiggs says not so tedious as it +might have been, and gives her head two or three very fashionable +twitches. + +"Your name, if you please?" + +"The Princess Grouski. My husband, the Prince Grouski," replies the +corpulent lady, turning and introducing a fair-haired gentleman, tall +and straight of person, somewhat military in his movements, and +extremely fond of fingering his long, Saxon moustache. Lady Swiggs, on +the announcement of a princess, rises suddenly to her feet, and +commences an unlimited number of courtesies. She is, indeed, most happy +to meet, and have the honor of being fellow-voyager with their Royal +Highnesses--will remember it as being one of the happiest events of her +life,--and begs to assure them of her high esteem. The corpulent lady +gives her a delicate card, on which is described the crown of Poland, +and beneath, in exact letters, "The Prince and Princess Grouski." The +Prince affects not to understand English, which Lady Swiggs regrets +exceedingly, inasmuch as it deprives her of an interesting conversation +with a person of royal blood. The card she places carefully between the +leaves of her Milton, having first contemplated it with an air of +exultation. Again begging to thank the Prince and Princess for this +mark of their distinguished consideration, Lady Swiggs inquires if they +ever met or heard of Sir Sunderland Swiggs. The rotund lady, for herself +and the prince, replies in the negative. "He was," she pursues, with a +sigh of disappointment, "he was very distinguished, in his day. Yes, and +I am his lineal descendant. Your highnesses visited Charleston, of +course?" + +"O dear," replies the rotund lady, somewhat laconically, "the happiest +days of my life were spent among the chivalry of South Carolina. Indeed, +Madam, I have received the attention and honors of the very first +families in that State." + +This exclamation sets the venerable lady to thinking how it could be +possible that their highnesses received the attentions of the first +families and she not know it. No great persons ever visited the United +States without honoring Charleston with their presence, it was true; but +how in the world did it happen that she was kept in ignorance of such an +event as that of the Prince and Princess paying it a visit. She began to +doubt the friendship of her distinguished acquaintances, and the St. +Cecilia Society. She hopes that should they condescend to pay the United +States a second visit, they will remember her address. This the rotund +lady, who is no less a person than the distinguished Madame Flamingo, +begs to assure her she will. + +Let not this happy union between Grouski and the old hostess, surprise +you, gentle reader. It was brought about by Mr. Snivel, the +accommodation man, who, as you have before seen, is always ready to do a +bit of a good turn. Being a skilful diplomatist in such matters, he +organized the convention, superintended the wooing, and for a lusty +share of the spoils, secured to him by Grouski, brought matters to an +issue "highly acceptable" to all parties. A sale of her palace of +licentiousness, works of art, costly furniture, and female wares, +together with the good will of all concerned, (her friends of the "bench +and bar" not excepted,) was made for the nice little sum of sixty-seven +thousand dollars, to Madame Grace Ashley, whose inauguration was one of +the most gorgeous _fêtes_ the history of Charleston can boast. The new +occupant was a novice. She had not sufficient funds to pay ready money +for the purchase, hence Mr. Doorwood, a chivalric and very excellent +gentleman, according to report, supplies the necessary, taking a +mortgage on the institution; which proves to be quite as good property +as the Bank, of which he is president. It is not, however, just that +sort of business upon which an already seared conscience can repose in +quiet, hence he applies that antidote too frequently used by knaves--he +never lets a Sunday pass without piously attending church. + +The money thus got, through this long life of iniquity, was by Madame +Flamingo handed over to the Prince, in exchange for his heart and the +title she had been deluded to believe him capable of conferring. Her +reverence for Princes and exiled heroes, (who are generally exiled +humbugs,) was not one jot less than that so pitiably exhibited by our +self-dubbed fashionable society all over this Union. It may be well to +add, that this distinguished couple, all smiling and loving, are on +their way to Europe, where they are sure of receiving the attentions of +any quantity of "crowned heads." Mr. Snivel, in order not to let the +affair lack that _eclat_ which is the crowning point in matters of high +life, got smuggled into the columns of the highly respectable and very +authentic old "Courier," a line or two, in which the fashionable world +was thrown into a flutter by the announcement that Prince Grouski and +his wealthy bride left yesterday, _en route_ for Europe. This bit of +gossip the "New York Herald" caught up and duly itemised, for the +benefit of its upper-ten readers, who, as may be easily imagined, were +all on tip-toe to know the address of visitors so distinguished, and +leave cards. + +Mrs. Swiggs has (we must return to her mission) scarcely set foot on +shore, when, thanks to a little-headed corporation, she is fairly set +upon by a dozen or more villanous hack-drivers, each dangling his whip +in her face, to the no small danger of her bonnet and spectacles. They +jostle her, utter vile imprecations, dispute for the right of carrying +her, each in his turn offering to do it a shilling less. Lady Swiggs is +indeed an important individual in the hands of the hack-drivers, and by +them, in a fair way of being torn to pieces. She wonders they do not +recognize her as a distinguished person, from the chivalric State of +South Carolina. The captain is engaged with his ship, passengers are +hurrying ashore, too anxious to escape the confinement of the cabin; +every one seems in haste to leave her, no one offers to protect her from +the clutches of those who threaten to tear her into precious pieces. She +sighs for Sister Slocum, for Mr. Hadger, for any one kind enough to +raise a friendly voice in her behalf. Now one has got her black box, +another her corpulent carpet-bag--a third exults in a victory over her +band-box. Fain would she give up her mission in disgust, return to the +more aristocratic atmosphere of Charleston, and leave the heathen to his +fate. All this might have been avoided had Sister Slocum sent her +carriage. She will stick by her black-box, nevertheless. So into the +carriage with it she gets, much discomfited. The driver says he would +drive to the Mayor's office "and 'ave them ar two coves what's got the +corpulent carpet-bag and the band-box, seed after, if it wern't that His +Honor never knows anything he ought to know, and is sure to do nothing. +They'll turn up, Mam, I don't doubt," says the man, "but it's next to +los'in' on 'em, to go to the Mayor's office. Our whole corporation, Mam, +don't do nothin' but eats oysters, drinks whiskey, and makes +presidents;--them's what they do, Marm." Lady Swiggs says what a pity so +great a city was not blessed with a bigger-headed corporation. + +"That it is, Marm," returns the methodical hack-driver, "he an't got a +very big head, our corporation." And Lady Swiggs, deprived of her +carpet-bag and band-box, and considerably out of patience, is rolled +away to the mansion of Sister Slocum, on Fourth Avenue. Instead of +falling immediately into the arms and affections of that worthy and very +enterprising lady, the door is opened by a slatternly maid of all +work--her greasy dress, and hard, ruddy face and hands--her short, +flabby figure, and her coarse, uncombed hair, giving out strong evidence +of being overtaxed with labor. "Is it Mrs. Slocum hersel' ye'd be +seein'?" inquires the maid, wiping her soapy hands with her apron, and +looking querulously in the face of the old lady, who, with the air of a +Scotch metaphysician, says she is come to spend a week in friendly +communion with her, to talk over the cause of the poor, benighted +heathen. "Troth an' I'm not as sure ye'll do that same, onyhow; sure +she'd not spend a week at home in the blessed year; and the divil +another help in the house but mysel' and himsel', Mr. Slocum. A decent +man is that same Slocum, too," pursues the maid, with a laconic +indifference to the wants of the guest. A dusty hat-stand ornaments one +side of the hall, a patched and somewhat deformed sofa the other. The +walls wear a dingy air; the fumes of soapsuds and stewed onions offend +the senses. Mrs. Swiggs hesitates in the doorway. Shall I advance, or +retreat to more congenial quarters? she asks herself. The wily +hack-driver (he agreed for four and charged her twelve shillings) leaves +her black box on the step and drives away. She may be thankful he did +not charge her twenty. They make no allowance for distinguished people; +Lady Swiggs learns this fact, to her great annoyance. To the +much-confused maid of all work she commences relating the loss of her +luggage. With one hand swinging the door and the other tucked under her +dowdy apron, she says, "Troth, Mam, and ye ought to be thankful, for the +like of that's done every day." + +Mrs. Swiggs would like a room for the night at least, but is told, in a +somewhat confused style, that not a room in the house is in order. That +a person having the whole heathen world on her shoulders should not have +her house in order somewhat surprises the indomitable lady. In answer to +a question as to what time Mr. Slocum will be home, the maid of all work +says: "Och! God love the poor man, there's no tellin'. Sure there's not +much left of the poor man. An' the divil a one more inoffensive than +poor Slocum. It's himsel' works all day in the Shurance office beyant. +He comes home dragged out, does a dale of writing for Mrs. Slocum +hersel', and goes to bed sayin' nothin' to nobody." Lady Swiggs says: +"God bless me He no doubt labors in a good cause--an excellent +cause--he will have his reward hereafter." + +It must here be confessed that Sister Slocum, having on hand a +newly-married couple, nicely suited to the duties of a mission to some +foreign land, has conceived the very laudable project of sending them to +Aleppo, and is now spending a few weeks among the Dutch of Albany, who +are expected to contribute the necessary funds. A few thousand dollars +expended, a few years' residence in the East, a few reports as to what +might have been done if something had not interposed to prevent it, and +there is not a doubt that this happy couple will return home crowned +with the laurels of having very nearly Christianized one Turk and two +Tartars. + +The maid of all work suddenly remembers that Mrs. Slocum left word that +if a distinguished lady arrived from South Carolina she could be +comfortably accommodated at Sister Scudder's, on Fourth Street. Not a +little disappointed, the venerable old lady calls a passing carriage, +gets herself and black box into it, and orders the driver to forthwith +proceed to the house of Sister Scudder. Here she is--and she sheds tears +that she is--cooped up in a cold, closet-like room, on the third story, +where, with the ends of her red shawl, she may blow and warm her +fingers. Sister Scudder is a crispy little body, in spectacles. Her +features are extremely sharp, and her countenance continually wears a +wise expression. As for her knowledge of scripture, it is truly +wonderful, and a decided improvement when contrasted with the meagre +set-out of her table. Tea time having arrived, Lady Swiggs is invited +down to a cup by a pert Irish servant, who accosts her with an +independence she by no means approves. Entering the room with an air of +stateliness she deems necessary to the position she desires to maintain, +Sister Scudder takes her by the hand and introduces her to a bevy of +nicely-conditioned, and sleek-looking gentlemen, whose exactly-combed +mutton chop whiskers, smoothly-oiled hair, perfectly-tied white cravats, +cloth so modest and fashionable, and mild, studious countenances, +discover their profession. Sister Scudder, motioning Lady Swiggs aside, +whispers in her ear: "They are all very excellent young men. They will +improve on acquaintance. They are come up for the clergy." They, in +turn, receive the distinguished stranger in a manner that is rather +abrupt than cold, and ere she has dispensed her stately courtesy, say; +"how do you do marm," and turn to resume with one another their +conversation on the wicked world. It is somewhat curious to see how much +more interested these gentry become in the wicked world when it is afar +off. + +Tea very weak, butter very strong, toast very thin, and religious +conversation extremely thick, make up the repast. There is no want of +appetite. Indeed one might, under different circumstances, have imagined +Sister Scudder's clerical boarders contesting a race for an extra slice +of her very thin toast. Not the least prominent among Sister Scudder's +boarders is Brother Singleton Spyke, whom Mrs. Swiggs recognizes by the +many compliments he lavishes upon Sister Slocum, whose absence is a +source of great regret with him. She is always elbow deep in some +laudable pursuit. Her presence sheds a radiant light over everything +around; everybody mourns her when absent. Nevertheless, there is some +satisfaction in knowing that her absence is caused by her anxiety to +promote some mission of good: Brother Spyke thus muses. Seeing that +there is come among them a distinguished stranger, he gives out that +to-morrow evening there will be a gathering of the brethren at the +"House of the Foreign Missions," when the very important subject of +funds necessary to his mission to Antioch, will be discussed. Brother +Spyke, having levelled this battery at the susceptibility of Mrs. +Swiggs, is delighted to find some fourteen voices chiming in--all +complimenting his peculiar fitness for, and the worthy object of the +mission. Mrs. Swiggs sets her cup in her saucer, and in a becoming +manner, to the great joy of all present, commences an eulogium on Mr. +Spyke. Sister Slocum, in her letters, held him before her in strong +colors; spoke in such high praise of his talent, and gave so many +guarantees as to what he would do if he only got among the heathen, that +her sympathies were enlisted--she resolved to lose no time in getting to +New York, and, when there, put her shoulder right manfully to the wheel. +This declaration finds her, as if by some mysterious transport, an +object of no end of praise. Sister Scudder adjusts her spectacles, and, +in mildest accents, says, "The Lord will indeed reward such +disinterestedness." Brother Mansfield says motives so pure will ensure a +passport to heaven, he is sure. Brother Sharp, an exceedingly lean and +tall youth, with a narrow head and sharp nose (Mr. Sharp's father +declared he made him a preacher because he could make him nothing else), +pronounces, with great emphasis, that such self-sacrifice should be +written in letters of gold. A unanimous sounding of her praises +convinces Mrs. Swiggs that she is indeed a person of great importance. +There is, however, a certain roughness of manner about her new friends, +which does not harmonize with her notions of aristocracy. She questions +within herself whether they represent the "first families" of New York. +If the "first families" could only get their heads together, the heathen +world would be sure to knock under. No doubt, it can be effected in time +by common people. If Sister Slocum, too, would evangelize the world--if +she would give the light of heaven to the benighted, she must employ +willing hearts and strong hands. Satan, she says, may be chained, +subdued, and made to abjure his wickedness. These cheering +contemplations more than atone for the cold reception she met at the +house of Sister Slocum. Her only regret now is that she did not sell old +Cicero. The money so got would have enabled her to bestow a more +substantial token of her soul's sincerity. + +Tea over, thanks returned, a prayer offered up, and Brother Spyke, +having taken a seat on the sofa beside Mrs. Swiggs, opens his batteries +in a spiritual conversation, which he now and then spices with a few +items of his own history. At the age of fifteen he found himself in love +with a beautiful young lady, who, unfortunately, had made up her mind to +accept only the hand of a clergyman: hence, she rejected his. This so +disturbed his thoughts, that he resolved on studying theology. In this +he was aided by the singular discovery, that he had a talent, and a +"call to preach." He would forget his amour, he thought, become a member +of the clergy, and go preach to the heathen. He spent his days in +reading, his nights in the study of divine truths. Then he got on the +kind side of a committee of very excellent ladies, who, having duly +considered his qualities, pronounced him exactly suited to the study of +theology. Ladies were generally good judges of such matters, and Brother +Spyke felt he could not do better than act up to their opinions. To all +these things Mrs. Swiggs listens with delight. + +Spyke, too, is in every way a well made-up man, being extremely tall and +lean of figure, with nice Saxon hair and whiskers, mild but thoughtful +blue eyes, an anxious expression of countenance, a thin, squeaking +voice, and features sufficiently delicate and regular for his calling. +His dress, too, is always exactly clerical. If he be cold and pedantic +in his manner, the fault must be set down to the errors of the +profession, rather than to any natural inclination of his own. But what +is singular of Brother Spyke is, that, notwithstanding his passion for +delving the heathen world, and dragging into Christian light and love +the benighted wretches there found, he has never in his life given a +thought for that heathen world at his own door--a heathen world sinking +in the blackest pool of misery and death, in the very heart of an +opulent city, over which it hurls its seething pestilence, and scoffs at +the commands of high heaven. No, he never thought of that Babylon of +vice and crime--that heathen world pleading with open jaws at his own +door. He had no thought for how much money might be saved, and how much +more good done, did he but turn his eyes; go into this dark world (the +Points) pleading at his feet, nerve himself to action, and lend a strong +hand to help drag off the film of its degradation. In addition to this, +Brother Spyke was sharp enough to discover the fact that a country +parson does not enjoy the most enviable situation. A country parson must +put up with the smallest salary; he must preach the very best of +sermons; he must flatter and flirt with all the marriageable ladies of +his church; he must consult the tastes, but offend none of the old +ladies; he must submit to have the sermon he strained his brain to make +perfect, torn to pieces by a dozen wise old women, who claim the right +of carrying the church on their shoulders; he must have dictated to him +what sort of dame he may take for wife;--in a word, he must bear meekly +a deal of pestering and starvation, or be in bad odor with the senior +members of the sewing circle. Duly appreciating all these difficulties, +Brother Spyke chose a mission to Antioch, where the field of his labors +would be wide, and the gates not open to restraints. And though he could +not define the exact character of his mission to Antioch, he so worked +upon the sympathies of the credulous old lady, as to well-nigh create in +her mind a resolve to give the amount she had struggled to get and set +apart for the benefit of those two institutions ("the Tract Society," +and "The Home of the Foreign Missions"), all to the getting himself off +to Antioch. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + +MR. SNIVEL PURSUES HIS SEARCH FOR THE VOTE-CRIBBER. + + +While Mrs. Swiggs is being entertained by Sister Scudder and her +clerical friends in New York, Mr. Snivel is making good his demand on +her property in Charleston. As the agent of Keepum, he has attached her +old slaves, and what few pieces of furniture he could find; they will in +a few days be sold for the satisfaction of her debts. Mrs. Swiggs, it +must be said, never had any very nice appreciation of debt-paying, +holding it much more legitimate that her creditors accept her dignity in +satisfaction of any demand they chanced to have against her. As for her +little old house, the last abode of the last of the great Swiggs +family,--that, like numerous other houses of our "very first families," +is mortgaged for more than it is worth, to Mr. Staple the grocer. We +must, however, turn to Mr. Snivel. + +Mr. Snivel is seen, on the night after the secret interview at the +Charleston Hotel, in a happy mood, passing down King street. A little, +ill-featured man, with a small, but florid face, a keen, lecherous eye, +leans on his arm. They are in earnest conversation. + +"I think the mystery is nearly cleared up, Keepum" says Snivel. + +"There seems no getting a clue to the early history of this Madame +Montford, 'tis true. Even those who introduced her to Charleston society +know nothing of her beyond a certain period. All anterior to that is +wrapped in suspicion," returns Keepum, fingering his massive gold chain +and seals, that pend from his vest, then releasing his hold of Mr. +Snivel's arm, and commencing to button closely his blue dress coat, +which is profusely decorated with large gilt buttons. "She's the mother +of the dashing harlot, or I'm no prophet, nevertheless," he concludes, +shaking his head significantly. + +"You may almost swear it--a bad conscience is a horrid bore; d--n me, if +I can't see through the thing. (Mr. Snivel laughs.) Better put our +female friends on their guard, eh?" + +"They had better drop her as quietly as possible," rejoins Mr. Keepum, +drawing his white glove from off his right hand, and extending his cigar +case. + +Mr. Snivel having helped himself to a cigar, says: "D--n me, if she +didn't faint in my arms last night. I made a discovery that brought +something of deep interest back to her mind, and gave her timbers such a +shock! I watched, and read the whole story in her emotions. One +accustomed to the sharps of the legal profession can do this sort of +thing. She is afraid of approaching this beautiful creature, Anna +Bonard, seeing the life she lives, and the suspicions it might create in +fashionable society, did she pursue such a course to the end of finding +out whether she be really the lost child of the relative she refers to +so often. Her object is to find one Mag Munday, who used to knock about +here, and with whom the child was left. But enough of this for the +present." Thus saying, they enter the house of the old antiquary, and +finding no one but Maria at home, Mr. Snivel takes the liberty of +throwing his arms about her waist. This done, he attempts to drag her +across the room and upon the sofa. "Neither your father nor you ever had +a better friend," he says, as the girl struggles from his grasp, shrinks +at his feet, and, with a look of disdain, upbraids him for his attempt +to take advantage of a lone female. + +"High, ho!" interposes Keepum, "what airs these sort of people put on, +eh? Don't amount to much, no how; they soon get over them, you know. A +blasted deal of assumption, as you say. Ha, ha, ha! I rather like this +sort of modesty. 'Tisn't every one can put it cleverly." Mr. Snivel +winks to Keepum, who makes an ineffectual attempt to extinguish the +light, which Maria seizes in her hand, and summoning her courage, stands +before them in a defiant attitude, an expression of hate and scorn on +her countenance. "Ah, fiend! you take this liberty--you seek to destroy +me because I am poor--because you think me humble--an easy object to +prey upon. I am neither a stranger to the world nor your cowardly +designs; and so long as I have life you shall not gloat over the +destruction of my virtue. Approach me at your peril--knaves! You have +compromised my father; you have got him in your grasp, that you may the +more easily destroy me. But you will be disappointed, your perfidy will +recoil on yourselves: though stripped of all else, I will die protecting +that virtue you would not dare to offend but for my poverty." This +unexpected display of resolution has the effect of making the position +of the intruders somewhat uncomfortable. Mr. Keepum, whose designs +Snivel would put in execution, sinks, cowardly, upon the sofa, while his +compatriot (both are celebrated for their chivalry) stands off apace +endeavoring to palliate the insult with facetious remarks. (This +chivalry of ours is a mockery, a convenient word in the foul mouths of +fouler ruffians.) Mr. Snivel makes a second attempt to overcome the +unprotected girl. With every expression of hate and scorn rising to her +face, she bids him defiance. Seeing himself thus firmly repulsed, he +begs to assure her, on the word of a gentleman--a commodity always on +hand, and exceedingly cheap with us--he was far from intending an +insult. He meant it for a bit of a good turn--nothing more. "Always +fractious at first--these sort of people are," pursues Keepum, +relighting his cigar as he sits on the sofa, squinting his right eye. +"Take bravely to gentlemen after a little display of modesty--always! +Try her again, Squire." Mr. Snivel dashes the candle from her hand, and +in the darkness grasps her wrists. The enraged girl shrieks, and calls +aloud for assistance. Simultaneously a blow fells Mr. Snivel to the +floor. The voice of Tom Swiggs is heard, crying: "Wretch! villain!--what +brings you here? (Mr. Keepum, like the coward, who fears the vengeance +he has merited, makes good his escape.) Will you never cease polluting +the habitations of the poor? Would to God there was justice for the +poor, as well as law for the rich; then I would make thee bite the dust, +like a dying viper. You should no longer banquet on poor virtue. +Wretch!--I would teach thee that virtue has its value with the poor as +well as the rich;--that with the true gentleman it is equally sacred." +Tom stands a few moments over the trembling miscreant, Maria sinks into +a chair, and with her elbows resting on the table, buries her face in +her hands and gives vent to her tears. + +"Never did criminal so merit punishment; but I will prove thee not worth +my hand. Go, wretch, go! and know that he who proves himself worthy of +entering the habitations of the humble is more to be prized than kings +and princes." Tom relights the candle in time to see Mr. Snivel rushing +into the street. + +The moon sheds a pale light over the city as the two chivalric +gentlemen, having rejoined and sworn to have revenge, are seen entering +a little gate that opens to a dilapidated old building, fronted by a +neglected garden, situate on the north side of Queen street, and in days +gone by called "Rogues' Retreat." "Rogues' Retreat" has scared vines +creeping over its black, clap-boarded front, which viewed from the +street appears in a squatting mood, while its broken door, closed +shutters--the neglected branches of grape vines that depend upon decayed +trellise and arbors, invest it with a forlorn air: indeed, one might +without prejudicing his faculties imagine it a fit receptacle for our +deceased politicians and our whiskey-drinking congressmen--the last +resting-place of our departed chivalry. Nevertheless, generous reader, +we will show you that "Rogues' Retreat" serves a very different purpose. +Our mob-politicians, who make their lungs and fists supply the want of +brains, use it as their favorite haunt, and may be seen on the eve of an +election passing in and out of a door in the rear. Hogsheads of bad +whiskey have been drunk in "Rogues' Retreat;" it reeks with the fumes of +uncounted cigars; it has been the scene of untold villanies. Follow us; +we will forego politeness, and peep in through a little, +suspicious-looking window, in the rear of the building. This window +looks into a cavern-like room, some sixteen feet by thirty, the ceiling +of which is low, and blotched here and there with lamp-smoke and +water-stains, the plastering hanging in festoons from the walls, and +lighted by the faint blaze of a small globular lamp, depending from the +centre, and shedding a lurid glare over fourteen grotesque faces, formed +round a broad deal-table. Here, at one side of the table sits Judge +Sleepyhorn, Milman Mingle, the vote-cribber, on his right; there, on the +other, sits Mr. Snivel and Mr. Keepum. More conspicuous than anything +else, stands, in the centre of the table, bottles and decanters of +whiskey, of which each man is armed with a stout glass. "I am as well +aware of the law as my friend who has just taken his seat can be. But we +all know that the law can be made subordinate; and it must be made +subordinate to party ends. We must not (understand me, I do not say this +in my judicial capacity) be too scrupulous when momentous issues are +upon us. The man who has not nerve enough to make citizens by the +dozen--to stuff double-drawered ballot-boxes, is not equal to the times +we live in;--this is a great moral fact." This is said by the Judge, +who, having risen with an easy air, sits down and resumes his glass and +cigar. + +"Them's my sentiments--exactly," interposes the vote-cribber, his burly, +scarred face, and crispy red hair and beard, forming a striking picture +in the pale light. "I have given up the trade of making Presidents, what +I used to foller when, you see, I lived in North Caroliner; but, I tell +you on the faith of my experience, that to carry the day we must let the +law slide, and crib with a free chain: there's no gettin' over this." + +"It is due," interrupts the Judge, again rising to his feet and bowing +to the cribber, "to this worthy man, whose patriotism has been tried so +often within prison-walls, that we give weight to his advice. He bears +the brunt of the battle like a hero--he is a hero!" (The vote-cribber +acknowledges the compliment by filling his glass and drinking to the +Judge.) + +"Of this worthy gentleman I have, as a member of the learned profession, +an exalted opinion. His services are as necessary to our success as +steam to the speed of a locomotive. I am in favor of leaving the law +entirely out of the question. What society sanctions as a means to party +ends, the law in most cases fails to reach," rejoins a tall, +sandy-complexioned man, of the name of Booper, very distinguished among +lawyers and ladies. Never was truth spoken with stronger testimony at +hand. Mr. Keepum could boast of killing two poor men; Mr. Snivel could +testify to the fallacy of the law by gaining him an honorable acquittal. +There were numerous indictments against Mr. Keepum for his dealings in +lottery tickets, but they found their way into the Attorney-General's +pocket, and it was whispered he meant to keep them there. It was indeed +pretty well known he could not get them out in consequence of the gold +Keepum poured in. Not a week passes but men kill each other in the open +streets. We call these little affairs, "rencontres;" the fact is, we are +become so accustomed to them that we rather like them, and regard them +as evidences of our advanced civilization. We are infested with +slave-hunters, and slave-killers, who daily disgrace us with their +barbarities; yet the law is weak when the victor is strong. So we +continue to live in the harmless belief that we are the most chivalrous +people in the world. + +"Mr. Booper!" ejaculates Mr. Snivel, knocking the ashes from his cigar +and rising to his feet, "you have paid no more than a merited +compliment to the masterly completeness of this excellent man's +cribbing. (He points to the cribber, and bows.) Now, permit me to say +here, I have at my disposal a set of fellows, (he smiles,) who can fight +their way into Congress, duplicate any system of sharps, and stand in +fear of nothing. Oh! gentlemen, (Mr. Snivel becomes enthusiastic.) I +was--as I have said, I believe--enjoying a bottle of champagne with my +friend Keepum here, when we overheard two Dutchmen--the Dutch always go +with the wrong party--discoursing about a villanous caucus held to-night +in King street. There is villany up with these Dutch! But, you see, +we--that is, I mean I--made some forty or more citizens last year. We +have the patent process; we can make as many this year." + +Mr. Sharp, an exceedingly clever politician, who has meekly born any +number of cudgellings at the polls, and hopes ere long to get the +appointment of Minister to Paris, interrupts by begging that Mr. Soloman +will fill his glass, and resume his seat. Mr. Snivel having taking his +seat, Mr. Sharp proceeds: "I tell you all what it is, says I, the other +day to a friend--these ponderous Dutch ain't to be depended on. Then, +says I, you must separate the Irish into three classes, and to each +class you must hold out a different inducement, says I. There's the Rev. +Father Flaherty, says I, and he is a trump card at electioneering. He +can form a breach between his people and the Dutch, and, says I, by the +means of this breach we will gain the whole tribe of Emeralds over to +our party. I confess I hate these vagabonds right soundly; but necessity +demands that we butter and sugar the mover until we carry our ends. You +must not look at the means, says I, when the ends are momentous." + +"The staunch Irish," pursues the Judge, rising as Mr. Sharp sits down, +"are noble fellows, and with us. To the middle class--the grocers and +shopkeepers--we must, however, hold out flattering inducements; such as +the reduction of taxes, the repeal of our oppressive license laws, +taking the power out of the hands of our aristocracy--they are very +tender here--and giving equal rights to emigrants. These points we must +put as Paul did his sermons--with force and ingenuity. As for the low +Irish, all we have to do is to crib them, feed and pickle them in +whiskey for a week. To gain an Irishman's generosity, you cannot use a +better instrument than meat, drink, and blarney. I often contemplate +these fellows when I am passing sentence upon them for crime." + +"True! I have the same dislike to them personally; but politically, the +matter assumes quite a different form of attraction. The laboring +Irish--the dull-headed--are what we have to do with. We must work them +over, and over, and over, until we get them just right. Then we must +turn them all into legal voting citizens--" + +"That depends on how long they have been in the country," interrupts a +brisk little man, rising quickly to his feet, and assuming a legal air. + +"Mr. Sprig! you are entirely behind the age. It matters not how long +these gentlemen from Ireland have been in the country. They take to +politics like rats to good cheese. A few months' residence, and a little +working over, you know, and they become trump voters. The Dutch are a +different sort of animal; the fellows are thinkers," resumes the Judge. + +Mr. Snivel, who has been sipping his whiskey, and listening very +attentively to the Judge, rises to what he calls the most important +order. He has got the paper all ready, and proposes the gentlemen he +thinks best qualified for the naturalization committee. This done, Mr. +Snivel draws from his pocket a copy of the forged papers, which are +examined, and approved by every one present. This instrument is +surmounted with the eagle and arms of the United States, and reads thus: + + "_STATE OF NEW YORK_. + + "In the Court of Common Pleas for the city and county of New York: + + "I---- do declare on oath, that it is _bonâ fide_ my intention to + become a citizen of the United States, and to renounce forever all + allegiance and fidelity to any foreign prince, potentate, State or + sovereignty whatever, and particularly to the Queen of the United + Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland, of whom I am a subject." + + Signed this---- day of---- 184-. + + JAMES CONNOR, Clerk. + + "Clerk's office, Court of Common Pleas for the city and county of + New York." + + "I hereby certify that the foregoing is a true copy of an original + declaration of intention remaining on record in my office, &c., + &c., &c." + +"There! it required skill and practice to imitate like that" Mr. Snivel +exultingly exclaims. "We require to make thirty-seven citizens, and have +prepared the exact number of papers. If the cribbers do their duty, the +day is ours." Thus is revealed one of the scenes common to "Rogues' +Retreat." We shrink at the multiplicity of crime in our midst; we too +seldom trace the source from whence it flows. If we did but turn our +eyes in the right direction we would find the very men we have elected +our guardians, protecting the vicious, whose power they +covet--sacrificing their high trust to a low political ambition. You +cannot serve a political end by committing a wrong without inflicting a +moral degradation on some one. Political intrigue begets laxity of +habits; it dispels that integrity without which the unfixed mind becomes +vicious; it acts as a festering sore in the body politic. + +Having concluded their arrangements for the Mayor's election, the party +drinks itself into a noisy mood, each outshouting the other for the +right to speak, each refilling and emptying his glass, each asserting +with vile imprecations, his dignity as a gentleman. Midnight finds the +reeling party adjourning in the midst of confusion. + +Mr. Snivel winks the vote-cribber into a corner, and commences +interrogating him concerning Mag Munday. The implacable face of the +vote-cribber reddens, he contorts his brows, frets his jagged beard with +the fingers of his left hand, runs his right over the crown of his head, +and stammers: "I know'd her, lived with her--she used to run sort of +wild, and was twice flogged. She got crazed at last!" He shrugs his +stalworth shoulders and pauses. "Being a politician, you see, a body +can't divest their minds of State affairs sufficiently to keep up on +women matters," he pursues: "She got into the poor-house, that I +knows--" + +"She is dead then?" interposes Mr. Snivel. + +"As like as not. The poor relatives of our 'first families' rot and die +there without much being said about it. Just look in at that +institution--it's a terrible place to kill folks off!--and if she be not +there then come to me. Don't let the keepers put you off. Pass through +the outer gate, into and through the main building, then turn sharp to +the left, and advance some twenty feet up a filthy passage, then enter a +passage on the right, (have a light with you,) that leads to a dozen or +fourteen steps, wet and slippery. Then you must descend into a sort of +grotto, or sickly vault, which you will cross and find yourself in a +spacious passage, crawling with beetles and lizards. Don't be +frightened, sir; keep on till you hear moanings and clankings of chains. +Then you will come upon a row of horrid cells, only suited for dog +kennels. In these cells our crazy folks are chained and left to die. +Give Glentworthy a few shillings for liquor, sir, and he, having these +poor devils in charge, will put you through. It's a terrible place, sir, +but our authorities never look into it, and few of our people know of +its existence." + +Mr. Snivel thanks the vote-cribber, who pledges his honor he would +accompany him, but for the reason that he opens crib to-morrow, and has +in his eye a dozen voters he intends to look up. He has also a few +recently-arrived sons of the Emerald Isle he purposes turning into +citizens. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +MRS. SWIGGS FALLS UPON A MODERN HEATHEN WORLD. + + +Purged of all the ill-humors of her mind, Mrs. Swiggs finds herself, on +the morning following the excellent little gathering at Sister +Scudder's, restored to the happiest of tempers. The flattery +administered by Brother Spyke, and so charmingly sprinkled with his +pious designs on the heathen world, has had the desired effect. This +sort of drug has, indeed, a wonderful efficacy in setting disordered +constitutions to rights. It would not become us to question the +innocence, or the right to indulge in such correctives; it is enough +that our venerable friend finds herself in a happy vein, and is resolved +to spend the day for the benefit of that heathen world, the darkness of +which Brother Spyke pictured in colors so terrible. + +Breakfast is scarcely over when Sister Slocum, in great agitation, comes +bustling into the parlor, offers the most acceptable apologies for her +absence, and pours forth such a vast profusion of solicitude for Mrs. +Swiggs' welfare, that that lady is scarce able to withstand the +kindness. She recounts the numerous duties that absorb her attention, +the missions she has on hand, the means she uses to keep up an interest +in them, the amount of funds necessary to their maintenance. A large +portion of these funds she raises with her own energy. She will drag up +the heathen world; she will drag down Satan. Furnishing Mrs. Swiggs +with the address of the House of the Foreign Missions, in Centre street, +she excuses herself. How superlatively happy she would be to accompany +Mrs. Swiggs. A report to present to the committee on finance, she +regrets, will prevent this. However, she will join her precisely at +twelve o'clock, at the House. She must receive the congratulations of +the Board. She must have a reception that will show how much the North +respects her co-laborers of the South. And with this, Sister Slocum +takes leave of her guest, assuring her that all she has to do is to get +into the cars in the Bowery. They will set her down at the door. + +Ten o'clock finds our indomitable lady, having preferred the less +expensive mode of walking, entering a strange world. Sauntering along +the Bowery she turns down Bayard street. Bayard street she finds lined +with filthy looking houses, swarming with sickly, ragged, and besotted +poor; the street is knee-deep with corrupting mire; carts are tilted +here and there at intervals; the very air seems hurling its pestilence +into your blood. Ghastly-eyed and squalid children, like ants in quest +of food, creep and swarm over the pavement, begging for bread or +uttering profane oaths at one another. Mothers who never heard the Word +of God, nor can be expected to teach it to their children, protrude +their vicious faces from out reeking gin shops, and with bare breasts +and uncombed hair, sweep wildly along the muddy pavement, disappear into +some cavern-like cellar, and seek on some filthy straw a resting place +for their wasting bodies. A whiskey-drinking Corporation might feast its +peculative eyes upon hogs wallowing in mud; and cellars where swarming +beggars, for six cents a night, cover with rags their hideous +heads--where vice and crime are fostered, and into which your sensitive +policeman prefers not to go, are giving out their seething miasma. The +very neighborhood seems vegetating in mire. In the streets, in the +cellars, in the filthy lanes, in the dwellings of the honest poor, as +well as the vicious, muck and mire is the predominating order. The +besotted remnants of depraved men, covered with rags and bedaubed with +mire, sit, half sleeping in disease and hunger on decayed door-stoops. +Men with bruised faces, men with bleared eyes, men in whose every +feature crime and dissipation is stamped, now drag their waning bodies +from out filthy alleys, as if to gasp some breath of air, then drag +themselves back, as if to die in a desolate hiding-place. Engines of +pestilence and death the corporation might see and remove, if it would, +are left here to fester--to serve a church-yard as gluttonous as its own +belly. The corporation keeps its eyes in its belly, its little sense in +its big boots, and its dull action in the whiskey-jug. Like Mrs. Swiggs, +it cannot afford to do anything for this heathen world in the heart of +home. No, sir! The corporation has the most delicate sense of its +duties. It is well paid to nurture the nucleus of a pestilence that may +some day break out and sweep over the city like an avenging enemy. It +thanks kind Providence, eating oysters and making Presidents the while, +for averting the dire scourge it encourages with its apathy. Like our +humane and very fashionable preachers, it contents itself with looking +into the Points from Broadway. What more would you ask of it? + +Mrs. Swiggs is seized with fear and trembling. Surely she is in a world +of darkness. Can it be that so graphically described by Brother +Syngleton Spyke? she questions within herself. It might, indeed, put +Antioch to shame: but the benighted denizens with which it swarms speak +her own tongue. "It is a deal worse in Orange street,[3] Marm--a deal, I +assure you!" speaks a low, muttering voice. Lady Swiggs is startled. She +only paused a moment to view this sea of vice and wretchedness she finds +herself surrounded with. Turning quickly round she sees before her a +man, or what there is left of a man. His tattered garments, his lean, +shrunken figure, his glassy eyes, and pale, haggard face, cause her to +shrink back in fright. He bows, touches his shattered hat, and says, "Be +not afraid good Madam. May I ask if you have not mistaken your way?" +Mrs. Swiggs looks querulously through her spectacles and says, "Do tell +me where I am?" "In the Points, good Madam. You seem confused, and I +don't wonder. It's a dreadful place. I know it, madam, to my sorrow." +There is a certain politeness in the manner of this man--an absence of +rudeness she is surprised to find in one so dejected. The red, distended +nose, the wild expression of his countenance, his jagged hair, hanging +in tufts over his ragged coat collar, give him a repulsiveness not +easily described. In answer to an inquiry he says, "They call me, Madam, +and I'm contented with the name,--they call me Tom Toddleworth, the +Chronicle. I am well down--not in years, but sorrow. Being sick of the +world I came here, have lived, or rather drifted about, in this sea of +hopeless misery, homeless and at times foodless, for ten years or more. +Oh! I have seen better days, Madam. You are a stranger here. May God +always keep you a stranger to the sufferings of those who dwell with us. +I never expect to be anything again, owe nothing to the world, and +never go into Broadway." + +[Footnote 3: Now called Baxter street] + +"Never go into Broadway," repeats Mrs. Swiggs, her fingers wandering to +her spectacles. Turning into Orange street, Mr. Toddleworth tenders his +services in piloting Mrs. Swiggs into Centre street, which, as he adds, +will place her beyond harm. As they advance the scene becomes darker and +darker. Orange street seems that centre from which radiates the avenues +of every vice known to a great city. One might fancy the world's +outcasts hurled by some mysterious hand into this pool of crime and +misery, and left to feast their wanton appetites and die. "And you have +no home, my man?" says Mrs. Swiggs, mechanically. "As to that, Madam," +returns the man, with a bow, "I can't exactly say I have no home. I kind +of preside over and am looked up to by these people. One says, 'come +spend a night with me, Mr. Toddleworth,' another says, 'come spend a +night with me, Mr. Tom Toddleworth.' I am a sort of respectable man with +them, have a place to lay down free, in any of their houses. They all +esteem me, and say, come spend a night with me, Mr. Toddleworth. It's +very kind of them. And whenever they get a drop of gin I'm sure of a +taste. Surmising what I was once, they look up to me, you see. This +gives me heart." And as he says this he smiles, and draws about him the +ragged remnants of his coat, as if touched by shame. Arrived at the +corner of Orange street, Mr. Toddleworth pauses and begs his charge to +survey the prospect. Look whither she will nothing but a scene of +desolation--a Babylon of hideous, wasting forms, mucky streets, and +reeking dens, meet her eye. The Jews have arranged themselves on one +side of Orange street, to speculate on the wasted harlotry of the +other. "Look you, Madam!" says Mr. Toddleworth, leaning on his stick and +pointing towards Chatham street. "A desert, truly," replies the august +old lady, nervously twitching her head. She sees to the right ("it is +wantonness warring upon misery," says Mr. Toddleworth) a long line of +irregular, wooden buildings, black and besmeared with mud. Little houses +with decrepit doorsteps; little houses with decayed platforms in front; +little dens that seem crammed with rubbish; little houses with +black-eyed, curly-haired, and crooked-nosed children looking shyly about +the doors; little houses with lusty and lecherous-eyed Jewesses sitting +saucily in the open door; little houses with open doors, broken windows, +and shattered shutters, where the devil's elixir is being served to +ragged and besotted denizens; little houses into which women with +blotched faces slip suspiciously, deposit their almost worthless rags, +and pass out to seek the gin-shop; little houses with eagle-faced men +peering curiously out at broken windows, or beckoning some wayfarer to +enter and buy from their door; little houses piled inside with the +cast-off garments of the poor and dissolute, and hung outside with +smashed bonnets, old gowns, tattered shawls; flaunting--red, blue, and +yellow, in the wind, emblematic of those poor wretches, on the opposite +side, who have pledged here their last offerings, and blazed down into +that stage of human degradation, which finds the next step the +grave--all range along, forming a picturesque but sad panorama. Mr. +Moses, the man of the eagle face, who keeps the record of death, as the +neighbors call it, sits opulently in his door, and smokes his cigar; +while his sharp-eyed daughters estimate exactly how much it is safe to +advance on the last rag some lean wretch would pledge. He will tell you +just how long that brawny harlot, passing on the opposite side, will +last, and what the few rags on her back will be worth when she is +"shoved into Potters' Field." At the sign of the "Three Martyrs" Mr. +Levy is seen, in his fashionable coat, and a massive chain falling over +his tight waistcoat, registering the names of his grotesque customers, +ticketing their little packages, and advancing each a shilling or two, +which they will soon spend at the opposite druggery. Thus bravely wages +the war. London has nothing so besotted, Paris nothing so vicious, +Naples nothing so dark and despairing, as this heathen world we pass by +so heedlessly. Beside it even the purlieus of Rome sink into +insignificance. Now run your eye along the East side of Orange street. A +sidewalk sinking in mire; a long line of one-story wooden shanties, +ready to cave-in with decay; dismal looking groceries, in which the god, +gin, is sending his victims by hundreds to the greedy graveyard; +suspicious looking dens with dingy fronts, open doors, and windows +stuffed with filthy rags--in which crimes are nightly perpetrated, and +where broken-hearted victims of seduction and neglect, seeking here a +last refuge, are held in a slavery delicacy forbids our describing; dens +where negro dancers nightly revel, and make the very air re-echo their +profaning voices; filthy lanes leading to haunts up alleys and in narrow +passages, where thieves and burglars hide their vicious heads; +mysterious looking steps leading to cavern-like cellars, where swarm and +lay prostrate wretched beings made drunk by the "devil's elixir"--all +these beset the East side of Orange street. Wasted nature, blanched and +despairing, ferments here into one terrible pool. Women in +gaudy-colored dresses, their bared breasts and brawny arms contrasting +curiously with their wicked faces, hang lasciviously over "half-doors," +taunt the dreamy policeman on his round, and beckon the unwary stranger +into their dens. Piles of filth one might imagine had been thrown up by +the devil or the street commissioner, and in which you might bury a +dozen fat aldermen without missing one; little shops where unwholesome +food is sold; corner shops where idlers of every color, and sharpers of +all grades, sit dreaming out the day over their gin--are here to be +found. Young Ireland would, indeed, seem to have made this the citadel +from which to vomit his vice over the city. + +"They're perfectly wild, Madam--these children are," says Mr. +Toddleworth, in reply to a question Mrs. Swiggs put respecting the +immense number of ragged and profaning urchins that swarm the streets. +"They never heard of the Bible, nor God, nor that sort of thing. How +could they hear of it? No one ever comes in here--that is, they come in +now and then, and throw a bit of a tract in here and there, and are glad +to get out with a whole coat. The tracts are all Greek to the dwellers +here. Besides that, you see, something must be done for the belly, +before you can patch up the head. I say this with a fruitful experience. +A good, kind little man, who seems earnest in the welfare of these wild +little children that you see running about here--not the half of them +know their parents--looks in now and then, acts as if he wasn't afraid +of us, (that is a good deal, Madam) and the boys are beginning to take +to him. But, with nothing but his kind heart and earnest resolution, +he'll find a rugged mountain to move. If he move it, he will deserve a +monument of fairest marble erected to his memory, and letters of gold +to emblazon his deeds thereon. He seems to understand the key to some of +their affections. It's no use mending the sails without making safe the +hull." + +At this moment Mrs. Swiggs' attention is attracted by a crowd of ragged +urchins and grotesque-looking men, gathered about a heap of filth at +that corner of Orange street that opens into the Points. + +"They are disinterring his Honor, the Mayor," says Mr. Toddleworth. "Do +this sort of thing every day, Madam; they mean no harm, you see." + +Mrs. Swiggs, curious to witness the process of disinterring so +distinguished a person, forgets entirely her appointment at the House of +the Foreign Missions, crowds her way into the filthy throng, and watches +with intense anxiety a vacant-looking idiot, who has seen some sixteen +summers, lean and half clad, and who has dug with his staff a hole deep +in the mud, which he is busy piling up at the edges. + +"Deeper, deeper!" cries out a dozen voices, of as many mischievous +urchins, who are gathered round in a ring, making him the victim of +their sport. Having cast his glassy eyes upward, and scanned vacantly +his audience, he sets to work again, and continues throwing out dead +cats by the dozen, all of which he exults over, and pauses now and then +for the approbation of the bystanders, who declare they bear no +resemblance to his Honor, or any one of the Board of Aldermen. One +chubby urchin, with a bundle of _Tribunes_ under his arm, looks +mischievously into the pit, and says, "His 'Onor 'ill want the +_Tribune_." Another, of a more taciturn disposition, shrugs his +shoulders, gives his cap a pull over his eyes, and says, spicing his +declaration with an oath, "He'll buy two _Heralds_!--he will." The +taciturn urchin draws them from his bundle with an air of independence, +flaunts them in the face of his rival, and exults over their merits. A +splashing of mud, followed by a deafening shout, announces that the +persevering idiot has come upon the object he seeks. One proclaims to +his motley neighbors that the whole corporation is come to light; +another swears it is only his Honor and a dead Alderman. A third, more +astute than the rest, says it is only the head and body of the +Corporation--a dead pig and a decaying pumpkin! Shout after shout goes +up as the idiot, exultingly, drags out the prostrate pig, following it +with the pumpkin. Mr. Toddleworth beckons Lady Swiggs away. The +wicked-faced harlots are gathering about her in scores. One has just +been seen fingering her dress, and hurrying away, disappearing +suspiciously into an Alley. + +"You see, Madam," says Mr. Toddleworth, as they gain the vicinity of Cow +Bay, "it is currently reported, and believed by the dwellers here, that +our Corporation ate itself out of the world not long since; and seeing +how much they suffer by the loss of such--to have a dead Corporation in +a great city, is an evil, I assure you--an institution, they adopt this +method of finding it. It affords them no little amusement. These +swarming urchins will have the filthy things laid out in state, holding +with due ceremony an inquest over them, and mischievously proposing to +the first policeman who chances along, that he officiate as coroner. +Lady Swiggs has not a doubt that light might be valuably reflected over +this heathen world. Like many other very excellent ladies, however, she +has no candles for a heathen world outside of Antioch." + +Mr. Toddleworth escorts her safely into Centre street, and directs her +to the House of the Foreign Missions. + +"Thank you! thank you!--may God never let you want a shilling," he says, +bowing and touching his hat as Mrs. Swiggs puts four shillings into his +left hand. + +"One shilling, Madam," he pursues, with a smile, "will get me a new +collar. A clean collar now and then, it must be said, gives a body a +look of respectability." + +Mr. Toddleworth has a passion for new collars, regards them as a means +of sustaining his respectability. Indeed, he considers himself in full +dress with one mounted, no matter how ragged the rest of his wardrobe. +And when he walks out of a morning, thus conditioned, his friends greet +him with: "Hi! ho! Mister Toddleworth is uppish this morning." He has +bid his charge good morning, and hurries back to his wonted haunts. +There is a mysterious and melancholy interest in this man's history, +which many have attempted but failed to fathom. He was once heard to say +his name was not Toddleworth--that he had sunk his right name in his +sorrows. He was sentimental at times, always used good language, and +spoke like one who had seen better days and enjoyed a superior +education. He wanted, he would say, when in one of his melancholy moods, +to forget the world, and have the world forget him. Thus he shut himself +up in the Points, and only once or twice had he been seen in the Bowery, +and never in Broadway during his sojourn among the denizens who swarm +that vortex of death. How he managed to obtain funds, for he was never +without a shilling, was equally involved in mystery. He had no very bad +habits, seemed inoffensive to all he approached, spoke familiarly on +past events, and national affairs, and discovered a general knowledge of +the history of the world. And while he was always ready to share his +shilling with his more destitute associates, he ever maintained a degree +of politeness and civility toward those he was cast among not common to +the place. He was ready to serve every one, would seek out the sick and +watch over them with a kindness almost paternal, discovering a singular +familiarity with the duties of a physician. He had, however, an +inveterate hatred of fashionable wives; and whenever the subject was +brought up, which it frequently was by the denizens of the Points, he +would walk away, with a sigh. "Fashionable wives," he would mutter, his +eyes filling with tears, "are never constant. Ah! they have deluged the +world with sorrow, and sent me here to seek a hiding place." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + +IN WHICH THE VERY BEST INTENTIONS ARE SEEN TO FAIL. + + +The city clock strikes one as Mrs. Swiggs, nervous and weary, enters the +House of the Foreign Missions. Into a comfortably-furnished room on the +right, she is ushered by a man meekly dressed, and whose countenance +wears an expression of melancholy. Maps and drawings of Palestine, +Hindostan, and sundry other fields of missionary labor, hang here and +there upon the walls. These are alternated with nicely-framed engravings +and lithographs of Mission establishments in the East, all located in +some pretty grove, and invested with a warmth and cheerfulness that +cannot fail to make a few years' residence in them rather desirable than +otherwise. These in turn are relieved with portraits of distinguished +missionaries. Earnest-faced busts, in plaster, stand prominently about +the room, periodicals and papers are piled on little shelves, and bright +bookcases are filled with reports and various documents concerning the +society, all bound so exactly. The good-natured man of the kind face +sits in refreshing ease behind a little desk; the wise-looking lean man, +in the spectacles, is just in front of him, buried in ponderous folios +of reports. In the centre of the room stands a highly-polished mahogany +table, at which Brother Spyke is seated, his elbow rested, and his head +leaning thoughtfully in his hand. The rotund figure and energetic face +of Sister Slocum is seen, whisking about conspicuously among a bevy of +sleek but rather lean gentlemen, studious of countenance, and in modest +cloth. For each she has something cheerful to impart; each in his turn +has some compliment to bestow upon her. Several nicely-dressed, but +rather meek-looking ladies, two or three accompanied by their knitting +work, have arranged themselves on a settee in front of the wise man in +the spectacles. + +Scarcely has the representative of our chivalry entered the room when +Sister Slocum, with all the ardor of a lover of seventeen, runs to her +with open arms, embraces her, and kisses her with an affection truly +grateful. Choking to relate her curious adventure, she is suddenly +heaped with adulations, told how the time of her coming was looked to, +as an event of no common occurrence--how Brothers Sharp, Spyke, and +Phills, expressed apprehensions for her safety this morning, each in +turn offering in the kindest manner to get a carriage and go in pursuit. +The good-natured fat man gets down from his high seat, and receives her +with pious congratulations; the man in the spectacles looks askant, and +advances with extended hand. To use a convenient phrase, she is received +with open arms; and so meek and good is the aspect, that she finds her +thoughts transported to an higher, a region where only is bliss. +Provided with a seat in a conspicuous place, she is told to consider +herself the guest of the society. Sundry ovations, Sister Slocum gives +her to understand, will be made in her honor, ere long. The fact must +here be disclosed that Sister Slocum had prepared the minds of those +present for the reception of an embodiment of perfect generosity. + +No sooner has Lady Swiggs time to breathe freely, than she changes the +wondrous kind aspect of the assembly, and sends it into a paroxysm of +fright, by relating her curious adventure among the denizens of the +Points. Brother Spyke nearly makes up his mind to faint; the +good-natured fat man turns pale; the wise man in the spectacles is seen +to tremble; the neatly-attired females, so pious-demeanored, express +their horror of such a place; and Sister Slocum stands aghast. "Oh! +dear, Sister Swiggs," she says, "your escape from such a vile place is +truly marvellous! Thank God you are with us once more." The good-natured +fat man says, "A horrible world, truly!" and sighs. Brother Spyke shrugs +his shoulders, adding, "No respectable person here ever thinks of going +into such a place; the people there are so corrupt." Brother Sharp says +he shudders at the very thought of such a place. He has heard much said +of the dark deeds nightly committed in it--of the stubborn vileness of +the dwellers therein. God knows he never wants to descend into it. +"Truly," Brother Phills interposes, "I walked through it once, and +beheld with mine eyes such sights, such human deformity! O, God! Since +then, I am content to go to my home through Broadway. I never forget to +shudder when I look into the vile place from a distance, nevertheless." +Brother Phills says this after the manner of a philosopher, fretting his +fingers, and contorting his comely face the while. Sister Slocum, having +recovered somewhat from the shock (the shock had no permanent effect on +any of them), hopes Sister Swiggs did not lend an ear to their false +pleadings, nor distribute charity among the vile wretches. "Such would +be like scattering chaff to the winds," a dozen voices chime in. +"Indeed!" Lady Swiggs ejaculates, giving her head a toss, in token of +her satisfaction, "not a shilling, except to the miserable wretch who +showed me the way out. And he seemed harmless enough. I never met a more +melancholy object, never!" Brother Spyke raises his eyes imploringly, +and says he harbors no ill-will against these vile people, but +melancholy is an art with them--they make it a study. They affect it +while picking one's pocket. + +The body now resolves itself into working order. Brother Spyke offers up +a prayer. He thanks kind Providence for the happy escape of Sister +Swiggs--this generous woman whose kindness of heart has brought her +here--from among the hardened wretches who inhabit that slough of +despair, so terrible in all its aspects, and so disgraceful to a great +and prosperous city. He thanks Him who blessed him with the light of +learning--who endowed him with vigor and resolution--and told him to go +forth in armor, beating down Satan, and raising up the heathen world. A +mustering of spectacles follows. Sister Slocum draws from her bosom a +copy of the report the wise man in the spectacles rises to read. A +fashionable gold chain and gold-framed eye-glass is called to her aid; +and with a massive pencil of gold, she dots and points certain items of +dollars and cents her keen eye rests upon every now and then. + +The wise man in the spectacles rises, having exchanged glances with +Sister Slocum, and commences reading a very long, and in nowise lean +report. The anxious gentlemen draw up their chairs, and turn attentive +ears. For nearly an hour, he buzzes and bores the contents of this +report into their ears, takes sundry sips of water, and informs those +present, and the world in general, that nearly forty thousand dollars +have recently been consumed for missionary labor. The school at Corsica, +the missions at Canton, Ningpo, Pu-kong, Cassaba, Abheokuta, and sundry +other places, the names of which could not, by any possibility, aid the +reader in discovering their location--all, were doing as well as could +be expected, _under the circumstances_. After many years labor, and a +considerable expenditure of money, they were encouraged to go forward, +inasmuch as the children of the school at Corsica were beginning to +learn to read. At Casaba, Droneyo, the native scholar, had, after many +years' teaching, been made conscious of the sin of idol-worship, and had +given his solemn promise to relinquish it as soon as he could propitiate +two favorite gods bequeathed to him by his great uncle. The furnace of +"Satanic cruelty" had been broken down at Dahomey. Brother Smash had, +after several years' labor, and much expense--after having broken down +his health, and the health of many others--penetrated the dark regions +of Arabia, and there found the very seat of Satanic power. It was firmly +pegged to Paganism and Mahomedan darkness! This news the world was +expected to hail with consternation. Not one word is lisped about that +terrible devil holding his court of beggary and crime in the Points. He +had all his furnaces in full blast there; his victims were legion! No +Brother Spyke is found to venture in and drag him down. The region of +the Seven Churches offers inducements more congenial. Bound about them +all is shady groves, gentle breezes, and rural habitations; in the +Points the very air is thick with pestilence! + +A pause follows the reading. The wise man in the spectacles--his voice +soft and persuasive, and his aspect meekness itself--would like to know +if any one present be inclined to offer a remark. General satisfaction +prevails. Brother Sharp moves, and Brother Phills seconds, that the +report be accepted. The report is accepted without a dissenting voice. A +second paper is handed him by Sister Slocum, whose countenance is seen +to flash bright with smiles. Then there follows the proclaiming of the +fact of funds, to the amount of three thousand six hundred dollars, +having been subscribed, and now ready to be appropriated to getting +Brother Syngleton Spyke off to Antioch. A din of satisfaction follows; +every face is radiant with joy. Sister Swiggs twitches her head, begins +to finger her pocket, and finally readjusts her spectacles. Having +worked her countenance into a good staring condition, she sets her eyes +fixedly upon Brother Spyke, who rises, saying he has a few words to +offer. + +The object of his mission to Antioch, so important at this moment, he +would not have misunderstood. Turks, Greeks, Jews, Arabs, Armenians, and +Kurds, and Yesedees--yes, brethren, Yesedees! inhabit this part of +Assyria, which opens up an extensive field of missionary labor, even +yet. Much had been done by the ancient Greeks for the people who roamed +in these Eastern wilds--much remained for us to do; for it was yet a +dark spot on the missionary map. Thousands of these poor souls were +without the saving knowledge of the Gospel. He could not shrink from a +duty so demanding--wringing his very heart with its pleadings! Giving +the light of the Gospel to these vicious Arabs and Kurds was the end and +aim of his mission. (A motion of satisfaction was here perceptible.) And +while there, he would teach the Jews a just sense of their Lord's +design--which was the subjugation of the heathen world. Inward light was +very good, old prophecies were very grand; but Judaism was made of +stubborn metal, had no missionary element in it, and could only be +forced to accept light through strong and energetic movement. He had +read with throbbing heart how Rome, while in her greatness, protected +those Christian pilgrims who went forth into the East, to do battle with +the enemy. Would not America imitate Rome, that mighty mother of +Republics? A deeper responsibility rested on her at this moment. Rome, +then, was semi-barbarous; America, now, was Christianized and civilized. +Hence she would be held more accountable for the dissemination of light. + +In those days the wandering Christian Jews undertook to instruct the +polished Greeks--why could not Americans at this day inculcate the +doctrines of Jesus to these educated heathen? It was a bold and daring +experiment, but he was willing to try it. The Allwise worked his wonders +in a mysterious way. In this irrelevant and somewhat mystical style, +Brother Spyke continues nearly an hour, sending his audience into a +highly-edified state. We have said mystical, for, indeed, none but those +in the secret could have divined, from Brother Spyke's logic, what was +the precise nature of his mission. His speech was very like a country +parson's model sermon; one text was selected, and a dozen or more (all +different) preached from; while fifty things were said no one could +understand. + +Brother Spyke sits down--Sister Slocum rises. "Our dear and very +generous guest now present," she says, addressing the good-natured fat +man in the chair, as Lady Swiggs bows, "moved by the goodness that is in +her, and conscious of the terrible condition of the heathen world, has +come nobly to our aid. Like a true Christian she has crossed the sea, +and is here. Not only is she here, but ready to give her mite toward +getting Brother Spyke off to Antioch. Another donation she proposes +giving the 'Tract Society,' an excellent institution, in high favor at +the South. Indeed I may add, that it never has offended against its +social--" + +Sister Slocum hesitates. Social slavery will not sound just right, she +says to her herself. She must have a term more musical, and less grating +to the ear. A smile flashes across her countenance, her gold-framed +eye-glasses vibrate in her fingers: "Well! I was going to say, their +social arrangements," she pursues. + +The assembly is suddenly thrown into a fit of excitement. Lady Swiggs is +seen trembling from head to foot, her yellow complexion changing to pale +white, her features contorting as with pain, and her hand clutching at +her pocket. "O heavens!" she sighs, "all is gone, gone, gone: how vain +and uncertain are the things here below." She drops, fainting, into the +arms of Sister Slocum, who has overset the wise man in the spectacles, +in her haste to catch the prostrate form. On a bench the august body is +laid. Fans, water, camphor, hartshorn, and numerous other restoratives +are brought into use. Persons get in each other's way, run every way but +the right way, causing, as is common in such cases, very unnecessary +alarm. The stately representative of the great Swiggs family lies +motionless. Like the last of our chivalry, she has nothing left her but +a name. + +A dash or two of cold water, and the application of a little hartshorn, +and that sympathy so necessary to the fainting of distinguished +people--proves all-efficient. A slight heaving of the bosom is detected, +the hands--they have been well chaffed--quiver and move slowly, her face +resumes its color. She opens her eyes, lays her hand solicitously on +Sister Slocum's arm: "It must be the will of Heaven," she lisps, +motioning her head, regretfully; "it cannot now be undone--" + +"Sister! sister! sister!" interrupts Sister Slocum, grasping her hand, +and looking inquiringly in the face of the recovering woman, "is it an +affection of the heart?--where is the pain?--what has befallen you? We +are all so sorry!" + +"It was there, there, there! But it is gone now." Regaining her +consciousness, she lays her hand nervously upon her pocket, and pursues: +"Oh! yes, sister, it was there when I entered that vile place, as you +call it. What am I to do? The loss of the money does not so much trouble +my mind. Oh! dear, no. It is the thought of going home deprived of the +means of aiding these noble institutions." + +Had Lady Swiggs inquired into the character of the purchaser of old +Dolly she might now have become conscious of the fact, that whatever +comes of evil seldom does good. The money she had so struggled to get +together to aid her in maintaining her hypocrisy, was the result of +crime. Perhaps it were better the wretch purloined it, than that the +fair name of a noble institution be stained with its acceptance. +Atonement is too often sought to be purchased with the gold got of +infamy. + +The cause of this fainting being traced to Lady Swiggs' pocket book +instead of her heart, the whole scene changes. Sister Slocum becomes as +one dumb, the good fat man is seized with a nervous fit, the man in the +spectacles hangs his head, and runs his fingers through his crispy hair, +as Brother Spyke elongates his lean body, and is seen going into a +melancholy mood, the others gathering round with serious faces. Lady +Swiggs commences describing with great minuteness the appearance of Mr. +Tom Toddleworth. That he is the person who carried off the money, every +one is certain. "He is the man!" responds a dozen voices. And as many +more volunteer to go in search of Mr. Detective Fitzgerald. Brother +Spyke pricks up his courage, and proceeds to initiate his missionary +labors by consulting Mr. Detective Fitzgerald, with whom he starts off +in pursuit of Mr. Tom Toddleworth. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. + +MR. SNIVEL ADVISES GEORGE MULLHOLLAND HOW TO MAKE STRONG LOVE. + + +Let us leave for a time the pursuit with which we concluded the +foregoing chapter, and return to Charleston. It is the still hour of +midnight. There has been a ball at the fashionable house of the +Flamingo, which still retains its name. In the great parlour we have +before described, standing here and there upon massive tables with +Egyptian marble-tops, are half-empty bottles of wine, decanters, +tumblers, and viands of various descriptions. Bits of artificial flowers +are strewn about the carpet, a shawl is seen thrown over one chair, a +mantle over another; the light is half shut off--everything bears +evidence of the gaieties of luxurious life, the sumptuous revel and the +debauch. The gilded mirrors reflect but two faces, both hectic and moody +of dissipation. George Mullholland and Mr. Snivel face each other, at a +pier-table. Before them are several half filled bottles, from one of +which Mr. Snivel fills George's glass. + +"There is something in this champaign (one only gets rubbish in these +houses) that compounds and elevates one's ideas," says Mr. Snivel, +holding his glass in the light, and squinting his blood-shotten eyes, +the lids of which he has scarce power to keep open. "Drink, +George--drink! You have had your day--why let such nonsense trouble +you? The whole city is in love with the girl. Her beauty makes her +capricious; if the old Judge has got her, let him keep her. Indeed, I'm +not so sure that she doesn't love him, and (well, I always laugh when I +think of it), it is a well laid down principle among us lawyers, that no +law stands good against love." Mr. Snivel's leaden eyelids close, and +his head drops upon his bosom. "She never can love him--never! His +wealth, and some false tale, has beguiled her. He is a hoary-headed +lecher, with wealth and position to aid him in his hellish pursuits; I +am poor, and an outcast! He has flattered me and showered his favors +upon me, only to affect my ruin. I will have--" + +"Pshaw! George," interrupts Mr. Snivel, brightening up, "be a +philosopher. Chivalry, you know--chivalry! A dashing fellow like you +should doff the kid to a knight of his metal: challenge him." Mr. Snivel +reaches over the table and pats his opponent on the arm. "These women, +George! Funny things, eh? Make any kind of love--have a sample for every +sort of gallant, and can make the quantity to suit the purchaser. 'Pon +my soul this is my opinion. I'm a lawyer, know pretty well how the sex +lay their points. As for these unfortunate devils, as we of the +profession call them (he pauses and empties his glass, saying, not bad +for a house of this kind), there are so many shades of them, life is +such a struggle with them; they dream of broken hopes, and they die +sighing to think how good a thing is virtue. You only love this girl +because she is beautiful, and beautiful women, at best, are the most +capricious things in the world. D--n it, you have gone through enough of +this kind of life to be accustomed to it. We think nothing of these +things, in Charleston--bless you, nothing! Keep the Judge your +friend--his position may give him a means to serve you. A man of the +world ought at all times to have the private friendship of as many +judges as he can." + +"Never! poor as I am--outcast as I feel myself! I want no such +friendship. Society may shun me, the community may fear me, necessity +may crush me--yea! you may regard me as a villain if you will, but, were +I a judge, I would scorn to use my office to serve base ends." As he +says this he draws a pistol from his pocket, and throwing it defiantly +upon the table, continues as his lip curls with scorn, "poor men's lives +are cheap in Charleston--let us see what rich men's are worth!" + +"His age, George!--you should respect that!" says Mr. Snivel, +laconically. + +"His age ought to be my protection." + +"Ah!--you forget that the follies of our nature too often go with us to +the grave." + +"And am I to suffer because public opinion honors him, and gives him +power to disgrace me? Can he rob me of the one I love--of the one in +whose welfare my whole soul is staked, and do it with impunity?" + +"D----d inconvenient, I know, George. Sympathize with you, I do. But, +you see, we are governed here by the laws of chivalry. Don't let your (I +am a piece of a philosopher, you see) temper get up, keep on a stiff +upper lip. You may catch him napping. I respect your feelings, my dear +fellow; ready to do you a bit of a good turn--you understand! Now let me +tell you, my boy, he has made her his adopted, and to-morrow she moves +with him to his quiet little villa near the Magnolia." + +"I am a poor, forlorn wretch," interrupts George, with a sigh. "Those +of whom I had a right to expect good counsel, and a helping hand, have +been first to encourage me in the ways of evil--" + +"Get money, Mullholland--get money. It takes money to make love strong. +Say what you will, a woman's heart is sure to be sound on the gold +question. Mark ye, Mullholland!--there is an easy way to get money. Do +you take? (His fingers wander over his forehead, as he watches intently +in George's face.) You can make names? Such things are done by men in +higher walks, you know. Quite a common affair in these parts. The Judge +has carried off your property; make a fair exchange--you can use his +name, get money with it, and make it hold fast the woman you love. There +are three things, George, you may set down as facts that will be of +service to you through life, and they are these: when a man eternally +rings in your ears the immoralities of the age, watch him closely; when +a man makes what he has done for others a boast, set him down a knave; +and when a woman dwells upon the excellent qualities of her many +admirers, set her down as wanting. But, get money, and when you have got +it, charm back this beautiful creature." + +Such is the advice of Mr. Soloman Snivel, the paid intriguer of the +venerable Judge. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV. + +A SLIGHT CHANGE IN THE PICTURE. + + +The two lone revellers remain at the pier-table, moody and hectic. Mr. +Snivel drops into a sound sleep, his head resting on the marble. +Weak-minded, jealous, contentious--with all the attendants natural to +one who leads an unsettled life, sits George Mullholland, his elbow +resting on the table, and his head poised thoughtfully in his hand. "I +will have revenge--sweet revenge; yes, I will have revenge to-night!" he +mutters, and sets his teeth firmly. + +In Anna's chamber all is hushed into stillness. The silvery moonbeams +play softly through the half-closed windows, lighting up and giving an +air of enchantment to the scene. Curtains hang, mist-like, from massive +cornices in gilt. Satin drapery, mysteriously underlaid with lace, and +floating in bewitching chasteness over a fairy-like bed, makes more +voluptuous that ravishing form calmly sleeping--half revealed among the +snowy sheets, and forming a picture before which fancy soars, passion +unbends itself, and sentiment is led away captive. With such exquisite +forms strange nature excites our love;--that love that like a little +stream meanders capriciously through our feelings, refreshing life, +purifying our thoughts, exciting our ambition, and modulating our +actions. That love, too, like a quicksand, too often proves a destroyer +to the weak-minded. + +Costly chairs, of various styles carved in black walnut, stand around +the chamber: lounges covered with chastely-designed tapestry are seen +half concealed by the gorgeous window curtains. The foot falls upon a +soft, Turkey carpet; the ceiling--in French white, and gilt +mouldings--is set off with two Cupids in a circle, frescoed by a skilled +hand. On a lounge, concealed in an alcove masked by curtains pending +from the hands of a fairy in bronze, and nearly opposite Anna's bed, the +old Judge sleeps in his judicial dignity. To-day he sentenced three +rogues to the whipping-post, and two wretched negroes--one for raising +his hand to a white man--to the gallows. + +Calmly Anna continues to sleep, the lights in the girandoles shedding a +mysterious paleness over the scene. To the eye that scans only the +exterior of life, how dazzling! Like a refulgent cloud swelling golden +in the evening sky, how soon it passes away into darkness and +disappointment! Suddenly there appears, like a vision in the chamber, +the stately figure of a female. Advancing slowly to the bed-side, for a +minute she stands contemplating the sleeping beauty before her. A dark, +languishing eye, an aquiline nose, beautifully-cut mouth, and a +finely-oval face, is revealed by the shadow in which she stands. "How +willingly," she mutters, raising the jewelled fingers of her right hand +to her lips, as her eyes become liquid with emotion, and her every +action betokens one whose very soul is goaded with remorse, "would I +exchange all these worldly pleasures for one single day in peace of +mind." She lays aside her mantle, and keeps her eyes fixed upon the +object before her. A finely-rounded shoulder and exactly-developed bust +is set off with a light satin bodice or corsage, cut low, opening +shawl-fashion at the breast, and relieved with a stomacher of fine +Brussels lace. Down the edges are rows of small, unpolished pearls, +running into points. A skirt of orange-colored brocade, trimmed with +tulle, and surrounded with three flounces, falls, cloud-like, from her +girdle, which is set with cameos and unpolished pearls. With her left +hand she raises slightly her skirts, revealing the embroidered gimps of +a white taffeta underskirt, flashing in the moonlight. Small, unpolished +pearls ornament the bands of her short sleeves; on her fingers are +rings, set with diamonds and costly emeralds; and her wrists are clasped +with bracelets of diamonds, shedding a modest lustre over her +marble-like arms. + +"Can this be my child? Has this crime that so like a demon haunts +me--that curses me even in my dreams, driven her, perhaps against her +will, to seek this life of shame?" She takes the sleeper's hand gently +in her own, as the tears gush down her cheeks. + +The sleeper startles, half raises herself from her pillow, parts her +black, silky hair, that lays upon her gently-swelling bosom, and throws +it carelessly down her shoulders, wildly setting her great black orbs on +the strange figure before her. "Hush, hush!" says the speaker, "I am a +friend. One who seeks you for a good purpose. Give me your +confidence--do not betray me! I need not tell you by what means I gained +access to you." + +A glow of sadness flashes across Anna's countenance. With a look of +suspicion she scans the mysterious figure from head to foot. "It is the +Judge's wife!" she says within herself. "Some one has betrayed me to +her; and, as is too often the case, she seeks revenge of the less guilty +party." But the figure before her is in full dress, and one seeking +revenge would have disguised herself. "Why, and who is it, that seeks me +in this mysterious manner?" whispers Anna, holding her delicate hand in +the shadow, over her eyes. "I seek you in the hope of finding something +to relieve my troubled spirit, I am a mother who has wronged her +child--I have no peace of mind--my heart is lacerated--" + +"Are you, then, my mother?" interrupts Anna, with a look of scorn. + +"That I would answer if I could. You have occupied my thoughts day and +night. I have traced your history up to a certain period. ("What I know +of my own, I would fain not contemplate," interrupts Anna.) Beyond that, +all is darkness. And yet there are circumstances that go far to prove +you the child I seek. Last night I dreamed I saw a gate leading to a +dungeon, that into the dungeon I was impelled against my will. While +there I was haunted with the figure of a woman of the name of Mag +Munday--a maniac, and in chains! My heart bled at the sight, for she, I +thought, was the woman in whose charge I left the child I seek. I +spoke--I asked her what had become of the child! She pointed with her +finger, told me to go seek you here, and vanished as I awoke. I spent +the day in unrest, went to the ball to-night, but found no pleasure in +its gay circle. Goaded in my conscience, I left the ball-room, and with +the aid of a confidant am here." + +"I recognize--yes, my lady, I recognize you! You think me your abandoned +child, and yet you are too much the slave of society to seek me as a +mother ought to do. I am the supposed victim of your crime; you are the +favored and flattered ornament of society. Our likenesses have been +compared many times:--I am glad we have met. Go, woman, go! I would not, +outcast as I am, deign to acknowledge the mother who could enjoy the +luxuries of life and see her child a wretch." + +"Woman! do not upbraid me. Spare, oh! spare my troubled heart this last +pang," (she grasps convulsively at Anna's hand, then shrinks back in +fright.) "Tell me! oh, tell me!" she pursues, the tears coursing down +her cheeks-- + +Anna Bonard interrupts by saying, peremptorily, she has nothing to tell +one so guilty. To be thus rebuked by an abandoned woman, notwithstanding +she might be her own child, wounded her feelings deeply. It was like +poison drying up her very blood. Tormented with the thought of her +error, (for she evidently labored under the smart of an error in early +life,) her very existence now seemed a burden to her. Gloomy and +motionless she stood, as if hesitating how best to make her escape. + +"Woman! I will not betray your coming here. But you cannot give me back +my virtue; you cannot restore me untainted to the world--the world never +forgives a fallen woman. Her own sex will be first to lacerate her heart +with her shame." These words were spoken with such biting sarcasm, that +the Judge, whose nap the loudness of Anna's voice had disturbed, +protruded his flushed face and snowy locks from out the curtains of the +alcove. "The gay Madame Montford, as I am a Christian," he exclaims in +the eagerness of the moment, and the strange figure vanishes out of the +door. + +"A fashionable, but very mysterious sort of person," pursues the Judge, +confusedly. "Ah! ha,--her case, like many others, is the want of a clear +conscience. Snivel has it in hand. A great knave, but a capital lawyer, +that Snivel--" + +The Judge is interrupted in his remarks by the entrance of Mr. Snivel, +who, with hectic face, and flushed eyes, comes rushing into the chamber. +"Hollo!--old boy, there's a high bid on your head to-night. Ready to do +you a bit of a good turn, you see." Mr. Snivel runs his fingers through +his hair, and works his shoulders with an air of exultation. "If," he +continues, "that weak-minded fellow--that Mullholland we have shown some +respect to, hasn't got a pistol! He's been furbishing it up while in the +parlor, and swears he will seriously damage you with it. Blasted +assurance, those Northerners have. Won't fight, can't make 'em +gentlemen; and if you knock 'em down they don't understand enough of +chivalry to resent it. They shout to satisfy their fear and not to +maintain their honor. Keep an eye out!" + +The Judge, in a tone of cool indifference, says he has no fears of the +renegade, and will one of these days have the pleasure of sending him to +the whipping-post. + +"As to that, Judge," interposes Mr. Snivel, "I have already prepared the +preliminaries. I gave him the trifle you desired--to-morrow I will nail +him at the Keno crib." With this the Judge and the Justice each take an +affectionate leave of the frail girl, and, as it is now past one o'clock +in the morning, an hour much profaned in Charleston, take their +departure. + +Armed with a revolver Mullholland has taken up his position in the +street, where he awaits the coming of his adversaries. In doubt and +anxiety, he reflects and re-reflects, recurs to the associations of his +past life, and hesitates. Such reflections only bring more vividly to +his mind the wrong he feels himself the victim of, and has no power to +resent except with violence. His contemplations only nerve him to +revenge. + +A click, and the door cautiously opens, as if some votary of crime was +about to issue forth in quest of booty. The hostess' head protrudes +suddenly from the door, she scans first up and then down the street, +then withdraws it. The Judge and Mr. Snivel, each in turn, shake the +landlady by the hand, and emerge into the street. They have scarce +stepped upon the sidepath when the report of a pistol resounds through +the air. The ball struck a lamp-post, glanced, passed through the collar +of Judge Sleepyhorn's coat, and brushed Mr. Snivel's fashionable +whiskers. Madame Ashley, successor to Madame Flamingo, shrieks and +alarms the house, which is suddenly thrown into a state of confusion. +Acting upon the maxim of discretion being the better part of valor, the +Judge and the Justice beat a hasty retreat into the house, and secrete +themselves in a closet at the further end of the back-parlor. + +As if suddenly moved by some strange impulse, Madame Ashley runs from +room to room, screaming at the very top of her voice, and declaring that +she saw the assassin enter her house. Females rush from their rooms and +into the great parlor, where they form groups of living statuary, +strange and grotesque. Anxious faces--faces half painted, faces hectic +of dissipation, faces waning and sallow, eyes glassy and lascivious, +dishevelled hair floating over naked shoulders;--the flashing of +bewitching drapery, the waving and flitting of embroidered underskirts, +the tripping of pretty feet and prettier ankles, the gesticulating and +swaying of half-draped bodies--such is the scene occasioned by the bench +and the bar. + +Madame Ashley, having inherited of Madame Flamingo the value of a +scrupulous regard for the good reputation of her house, must needs call +in the watch to eject the assassin, whom she swears is concealed +somewhere on the premises. Mr. Sergeant Stubbs, a much respected +detective, and reputed one of the very best officers of the guard, +inasmuch as he never troubles his head about other people's business, +and is quite content to let every one fight their own battles,--provided +they give him a "nip" of whiskey when they are through, lights his +lantern and goes bobbing into every room in the house. We must here +inform the reader that the cause of the _emeute_ was kept a profound +secret between the judicial gentry. Madame Ashley, at the same time, is +fully convinced the ball was intended for her, while Anna lays in a +terrible fright in her chamber. + +"Ho," says Mr. Stubbs, starting back suddenly as he opened the door of +the closet in which the two gentlemen had concealed themselves. "I see! +I see!--beg your pardon, gentlemen!" Mr. Stubbs whispers, and bows, and +shuts the door quickly. + +"An infernal affair this, Judge! D--n me if I wouldn't as soon be in the +dock. It will all get out to-morrow," interposes Mr. Snivel, +facetiously. + +"Blast these improper associations!" the high functionary exclaims, +fussily shrugging his shoulders, and wiping the sweat from his forehead. +"I love the girl, though, I confess it!" + +"Nothing more natural. A man without gallantry is like a pilgrim in the +South-West Pass. You can't resist this charming creature. In truth it's +a sort of longing weakness, which even the scales of justice fail to +bring to a balance." + +Mr. Stubbs fails to find the assassin, and enters Madame Ashley's +chamber, the door of which leads into the hall. Here Mr. Stubbs's quick +eye suddenly discerns a slight motion of the curtains that enclose the +great, square bed, standing in one corner. "I ax your pardon, Mam, but +may I look in this 'ere bed?" Mr. Stubbs points to the bed, as Madame, +having thrown herself into a great rocking chair, proceeds to sway her +dignity backward and forward, and give out signs of making up her mind +to faint. + +Mr. Stubbs draws back the curtains, when, behold! but tell it not in the +by-ways, there is revealed the stalworth figure of Simon Patterson, the +plantation parson. Our plantation parsons, be it known, are a singular +species of depraved humanity, a sort of itinerant sermon-makers, holding +forth here and there to the negroes of the rich planters, receiving a +paltry pittance in return, and having in lieu of morals an excellent +taste for whiskey, an article they invariably call to their aid when +discoursing to the ignorant slave--telling him how content with his lot +he ought to be, seeing that God intended him only for ignorance and +servitude. The parson did, indeed, cut a sorry figure before the gaze of +this indescribable group, as it rushed into the room and commenced +heaping upon his head epithets delicacy forbids our inserting +here--calling him a clerical old lecher, an assassin, and a disturber of +the peace and respectability of the house. Indeed, Madame Ashley quite +forgot to faint, and with a display of courage amounting almost to +heroism, rushed at the poor parson, and had left him in the state he was +born but for the timely precautions of Mr. Stubbs, who, finding a +revolver in his possession, and wanting no better proof of his guilt, +straightway took him off to the guard-house. Parson Patterson would have +entered the most solemn and pious protestation of his innocence but the +evidence was so strong against him, and the zeal of Mr. Sergeant Stubbs +so apparent, that he held it the better policy to quietly submit to the +rough fare of his new lodgings. + +"I have a terror of these brawls!" says Mr. Snivel, emerging from his +hiding-place, and entering the chamber, followed by the high legal +functionary. + +"A pretty how-do-ye-do, this is;" returns Madame Ashley, cooling her +passion in the rocking-chair, "I never had much respect for parsons--" + +"Parsons?" interrupts Mr. Snivel, inquiringly, "you don't mean to say it +was all the doings of a parson?" + +"As I'm a lady it was no one else. He was discovered behind the curtain +there, a terrible pistol in his pocket--the wretch!" + +Mr. Snivel exchanges a wink with the Judge, points his thumb over his +left shoulder, and says, captiously: "I always had an implacable hatred +of that old thief. A bad lot! these plantation parsons." + +Mr. Stubbs having discovered and removed the assassin, the terrified +damsels return to their chambers, and Madame Ashley proceeds to close +her house, as the two legal gentlemen take their departure. Perhaps it +would be well to inform the reader that a principal cause of Anna's +preference for the Judge, so recently manifested, was the deep +impression made on her already suspicious mind by Mr. McArthur, the +antiquary, who revealed to her sincerely, as she thought, her future +dark destiny. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI. + +IN WHICH A HIGH FUNCTIONARY IS MADE TO PLAY A SINGULAR PART. + + +The morning following the events detailed in the foregoing chapter, +finds the august Sleepyhorn seated on his judgment-seat. The clock +strikes ten as he casts his heavy eyes over the grotesque group gathered +into his little, dingy court-room; and he bows to his clerk, of whom he +gets his law knowledge, and with his right hand makes a sign that he is +ready to admonish the erring, or pass sentence on any amount of +criminals. History affords no record of a judge so unrelenting of his +judgments. + +A few dilapidated gentlemen of the "_learned_ profession," with sharp +features and anxious faces, fuss about among the crowd, reeking of +whiskey and tobacco. Now they whisper suspiciously in the ears of +forlorn prisoners, now they struggle to get a market for their legal +nostrums. A few, more respectably clothed and less vicious of aspect, +sit writing at a table inside the bar, while a dozen or more punch-faced +policemen, affecting an air of superiority, drag themselves lazily +through the crowd of seedy humanity, looking querulously over the +railing encircling the dock, or exchanging recognitions with friends. + +Some twenty "negro cases" having been disposed of without much respect +to law, and being sent up for punishment (the Judge finds it more +convenient to forego testimony in these cases), a daughter of the +Emerald Isle, standing nearly six feet in her bare soles, and much +shattered about the dress, is, against her inclination, arraigned before +his Honor. "I think I have seen you before, Mrs. Donahue?" says the +Judge, inquiringly. + +"Arrah, good-morning, yer 'onher! Shure, it's only the sixth time these +three weeks. Doesn't meself like to see yer smiling face, onyhow!" Here +Mrs. Donahue commences complimenting the Judge in one breath, and laying +no end of charges at the door of the very diminutive and harmless Mister +Donahue in the next. + +"This being the sixth time," returns his Honor, somewhat seriously, "I +would advise you to compromise the matter with Donahue, and not be seen +here again. The state of South Carolina cannot pay your fees so often--" + +"Och, bad luck to Donahue! Troth, an' if yer onher'd put the fees down +to Donahue, our acquaintance 'ouldn't be so fraquent." Mrs. Donahue says +this with great unction, throwing her uncombed hair back, then daintily +raising her dress apace, and inquiring of Mr. Sheriff Hardscrabble, who +sits on his Honor's left, peering sharply through his spectacles, how he +likes the spread of her broad, flat foot; "the charging the fees to +Donahue, yer onher, 'd do it!" There was more truth in this remark than +his Honor seemed to comprehend, for having heard the charge against her +(Mr. Donahue having been caught in the act of taking a drop of her gin, +she had well-nigh broken his head with the bottle), and having listened +attentively while poor Donahue related his wrongs, and exhibited two +very well blacked eyes and a broken nose, he came to the very just +conclusion that it were well to save the blood of the Donahues. And to +this end did he grant Mrs. Donahue board and lodging for one month in +the old prison. Mrs. Donahue is led away, heaping curses on the head of +Donahue, and compliments on that of his Honor. + +A pale, sickly looking boy, some eleven years old, is next placed upon +the stand. Mr. Sergeant Stubbs, who leans his corpulent figure against +the clerk's desk, every few minutes bowing his sleepy head to some +friend in the crowd, says: "A hard 'un--don't do no good about here. A +vagrant; found him sleeping in the market." + +His Honor looks at the poor boy for some minutes, a smile of kindliness +seems lighting up his face; he says he would there were some place of +refuge--a place where reformation rather than punishment might be the +aim and end, where such poor creatures could be sent to, instead of +confining them in cells occupied by depraved prisoners. + +Mr. Sheriff Hardscrabble, always eager to get every one into jail he +can, inasmuch as it pays him twenty-two cents a day clear profit on each +and every person confined, says: "A hard customer. Found sleeping in the +market, eh? Well, we must merge him in a tub of water, and scrub him up +a little." Mr. Hardscrabble views him with an air of satisfaction, +touches him with a small cane he holds in his hand, as if he were +something very common. Indeed, Mr. Hardscrabble seems quite at a loss to +know what species of animal he is, or whether he be really intended for +any other use than filling up his cells and returning him twenty-two +cents a day clear profit. "Probably an incendiary," mutters the +sagacious sheriff. The helpless boy would explain how he came to sleep +in the market--how he, a poor cabin-boy, walked, foot-sore and hungry, +from Wilmington, in the hope of getting a ship; and being moneyless and +friendless he laid down in the market to sleep. Mr. Hardscrabble, +however, suggests that such stories are extremely common. His Honor +thinks it not worth while to differ from this opinion, but to the end +that no great legal wisdom may be thrown away, he orders the accused to +be sent to the common jail for three months. This, in the opinion of +Judge Sleepyhorn, is an extremely mild penalty for being found sleeping +in the market. + +Next there comes forward a lean, up-country Cracker, (an half-civilized +native,) who commences telling his story with commendable simplicity, +the Judge in the meanwhile endeavoring to suppress a smile, which the +quaintness of his remarks excite. Making a tenement of his cart, as is +usual with these people when they visit the city, which they do now and +then for the purpose of replenishing their stock of whiskey, he had, +about eleven o'clock on the previous night, been set upon by three +intoxicated students, who, having driven off his mule, overturned his +cart, landing him and his wife prostrate in the ditch. A great noise was +the result, and the guard, with their accustomed zeal for seizing upon +the innocent party, dragged up the weaker (the Cracker and his wife) and +let the guilty go free. He had brought the good wife, he added, as a +living evidence of the truth of what he said, and would bring the mule +if his honor was not satisfied. The good wife commences a volley of what +she is pleased to call voluntary testimony, praising and defending all +the good qualities of her much-abused husband, without permitting any +one else an opposing word. No sufficient charge being brought against +the Cracker (he wisely slipped a five dollar bill into the hands of +Stubbs), he joins his good wife and goes on his way rejoicing. + +During this little episode between the court and the Cracker's wife, +Madame Grace Ashley, arrayed in her most fashionable toilet, comes +blazing into Court, bows to the Judge and a few of her most select +friends of the Bar. A seat for Madame is provided near his Honor's desk. +His Honor's blushes seem somewhat overtaxed; Madame, on the other hand, +is not at all disconcerted; indeed, she claims an extensive acquaintance +with the most distinguished of the Bar. + +The Judge suggests to Mr. Stubbs that it would be as well to waive the +charge against the clergyman. Somewhat the worse for his night in the +guard-house, Parson Patterson comes forward and commences in the most +unintelligible manner to explain the whole affair, when the Judge very +blandly interrupts by inquiring if he is a member of the clergy at this +moment. "Welle," returns the parson, with characteristic drawl, "can't +zactly say I am." The natural seediness of the parson excites suspicion, +nevertheless he is scrupulous of his white cravat, and preserves withal +a strictly clerical aspect. Having paused a few moments and exchanged +glances with the Judge, he continues: "I do nigger preaching on +Sunday--that is (Parson Patterson corrects himself), I hold forth, here +and there--we are all flesh and blood--on plantations when I have a +demand for my services. Our large planters hold it good policy to +encourage the piety of their property." + +"You make a good thing of it?" inquires the Judge, jocosely. The parson +replies, with much meekness of manner, that business is not so good as +it was, planters having got it into their heads that sermons can be got +at a very low figure. Here he commences to explain his singular +position. He happened to meet an old and much-esteemed friend, whom he +accompanied home, and while spending the evening conversing on +spiritual matters--it was best not to lie--he took a little too much. On +his way to the hotel he selected Beresford street as a short cut, and +being near the house where he was unfortunately found when the shooting +took place, he ran into it to escape the police-- + +"Don't believe a word he says," interrupts Madame Ashley, springing +suddenly to her feet, and commencing to pour out her phials of wrath on +the head of the poor parson, whom she accuses of being a suspicious and +extremely unprofitable frequenter of her house, which she describes as +exceedingly respectable. "Your Honor can bear me out in what I say!" +pursues Madame, bowing with an air of exultation, as the sheriff demands +order. + +"A sorry lot, these plantation preachers! Punish him right soundly, your +honor. It is not the first time he has damaged the respectability of my +house!" again interrupts Madame Ashley. His Honor replies only with a +blush. Mr. Snivel, who watches with quisical countenance, over the bar, +enjoys the joke wonderfully. + +Order being restored, the Judge turns to address the parson. + +"I see, my friend--I always address my prisoners familiarly--you place +but little value on the fact of your being a clergyman, on the ground +that you only preach to slaves. This charge brought against you is a +grave one--I assure you! And I cannot incline to the view you take of +your profession. I may not be as erudite as some; however, I hold it +that the ignorant and not the learned have most need of good example." + +"Aye! I always told the old reprobate so," interposes Madam Ashley, with +great fervor. + +"A charge," resumes the Judge, "quite sufficient to warrant me in +committing you to durance vile, might be preferred. You may thank my +generosity that it is not. These houses, as you know, Mr. Patterson, are +not only dangerous, but damaging to men of potent morality like you." + +"But, your Honor knows, they are much frequented," meekly drawls the +parson. + +"It affords no palliation," sharply responds the Judge, his face +crimsoning with blushes. "Mark ye, my friend of the clergy, these places +make sad destruction of our young men. Indeed I may say with becoming +sincerity and truth, that they spread a poison over the community, and +act as the great enemy of our social system." + +"Heigh ho!" ejaculates Madame Ashley, to the great delight of the throng +assembled, "Satan has come to rebuke sin." Madame bids his Honor a very +polite good morning, and takes her departure, looking disdainfully over +her shoulder as she disappears out of the door. + +Not a little disturbed in his equanimity, the Judge pursues his charge. +"The clergy ought to keep their garments clear of such places, for being +the source of all evil, the effect on the community is not good--I mean +when such things are brought to light! I would address you frankly and +admonish you to go no more into such places. Let your ways merit the +approbation of those to whom you preach the Gospel. You can go. +Henceforth, live after the ways of the virtuous." + +Parson Patterson thanks his Honor, begs to assure him of his innocence, +and seems only too anxious to get away. His Honor bows to Mr. Patterson, +Mr. Patterson returns it, and adds another for the audience, whereupon +the court adjourns, and so ends the episode. His Honor takes Mr. +Snivel's arm, and together they proceed to the "most convenient" saloon, +where, over a well-compounded punch, "the bench and the bar" compliment +each other on the happy disposal of such vexatious cases. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII. + +THE HOUSE OF THE NINE NATIONS, AND WHAT MAY BE SEEN IN IT. + + +On the corner of Anthony street and the Points,[4] in New-York, there +stands, like a grim savage, the house of the Nine Nations, a dingy +wooden tenement, that for twenty years has threatened to tumble away +from its more upright neighbor, and before which the stranger wayfarer +is seen to stop and contemplate. In a neighborhood redolent of crime, +there it stands, its vices thick upon its head, exciting in the mind of +the observer its association with some dark and terrible deed. On the +one side, opens that area of misery, mud and sombre walls, called "Cow +Bay;" on the other a triangular plot, reeking with the garbage of the +miserable cellars that flank it, and in which swarms of wasting beings +seek a hiding-place, inhale pestilential air, and die. Gutters running +with seething matter; homeless outcasts sitting, besotted, on crazy +doorsteps; the vicious, with savage visage, and keen, watchful eye, +loitering at the doors of filthy "groceries;" the sickly and neglected +child crawling upon the side-pave, or seeking a crust to appease its +hunger--all are found here, gasping, in rags, a breath of air by day, or +seeking a shelter, at night, in dens so abject that the world can +furnish no counterpart. And this forlorn picture of dilapidated houses, +half-clad, squabbish women, blistered-faced men, and sickly children, +the house of the Nine Nations overlooks. And yet this house, to the +disgrace of an opulent people be it said, is but the sample of an +hundred others standing in the same neighborhood. + +[Footnote 4: Now Worth street and Mission Place.] + +With its basement-doors opening into its bottomless pit; with its +continual outgoing and ingoing of sooty and cruel-visaged denizens; with +its rickety old steps leading to the second story; with its battered +windows, begrimed walls, demolished shutters, clapboards hanging at +sixes and sevens--with its suspicious aspect;--there it stands, with its +distained sign over the doors of its bottomless pit. You may read on +this sign, that a gentleman from Ireland, who for convenience' sake we +will call Mr. Krone, is licensed to sell imported and other liquors. + +Indeed the house of the Nine Nations would seem to say within itself: "I +am mother of this banquet of death you behold with your eyes." There it +stands, its stream of poison hurrying its victims to the grave; its +little dark passages leading to curious hiding-places; its caving roof, +and its ominous-looking back platform, overlooking the dead walls of +Murderers' Yard. How it mocks your philanthropy, your regal edifices, +your boasted charities--your gorgeous churches! Everybody but the +corporation knows the house of the Nine Nations, a haunt for wasted +prostitutes, assassins, burglars, thieves--every grade of criminals +known to depraved nature. The corporation would seem either to have a +charming sympathy for it, or to look upon it with that good-natured +indifference so happily illustrated while eating its oysters and +drinking its whiskey. An empty-headed corporation is sure always to +have its hands very full, which is the case with yours at this moment. +Having the people's money to waste, its own ambition to serve, and its +hat to fill with political waste paper--what more would you ask of it? + +The man of the house of the Nine Nations, you ought to know, makes +criminals by the hundred, deluges your alms houses with paupers, and +makes your Potters' field reek with his victims: for this he is become +rich. Mr. Krone is an intimate friend of more than one Councilman, and a +man of much measure in the political world--that is, Mr. Krone is a +politician-maker. When you say there exists too close an intimacy +between the pugilist and the politician, Mr. Krone will bet twenty +drinks with any one of his customers that he can prove such doctrines at +fault. He can secure the election of his favorite candidate with the +same facility that he can make an hundred paupers per week. You may well +believe him a choice flower in the bouquet of the corporation; we mean +the corporation that banquets and becomes jubilant while assassins stab +their victims in the broad street--that becomes befogged while bands of +ruffians disgrace the city with their fiendish outrages--that makes +presidents and drinks whiskey when the city would seem given over to the +swell-mobsman--when no security is offered to life, and wholesale +harlotry, flaunting with naked arms and bared bosoms, passes along in +possession of Broadway by night. + +It is the night succeeding the day Lady Swiggs discovered, at the house +of the Foreign Missions, the loss of her cherished donations. As this is +a world of disappointments, Lady Swiggs resigns herself to this most +galling of all, and with her Milton firmly grasped in her hand, may be +seen in a little room at Sister Scudder's, rocking herself in the +arm-chair, and wondering if Brother Spyke has captured the +robber-wretch. A chilly wind howls, and a drizzling rain falls thick +over the dingy dwellings of the Points, which, sullen and dark, seem in +a dripping mood. A glimmering light, here and there, throws curious +shadows over the liquid streets. Now the drenched form of some +half-naked and homeless being is reflected, standing shivering in the +entrance to some dark and narrow alley; then the half-crazed inebriate +hurries into the open door of a dismal cellar, or seeks eagerly a +shelter for his bewildered head, in some suspicious den. Flashing +through the shadow of the police lamp, in "Cow Bay," a forlorn female is +seen, a bottle held tightly under her shawl. Sailing as it were into the +bottomless pit of the house of the Nine Nations, then suddenly returning +with the drug, seeking the cheerless garret of her dissolute partner, +and there striving to blunt her feelings against the horrors of +starvation. + +Two men stand, an umbrella over their heads, at the corner, in the glare +of the bottomless pit, which is in a blaze of light, and crowded with +savage-faced figures, of various ages and colors,--all habited in the +poison-seller's uniform of rags. "I don't think you'll find him here, +sir," says one, addressing the other, who is tall and slender of person, +and singularly timid. "God knows I am a stranger here. To-morrow I leave +for Antioch," is the reply, delivered in nervous accents. The one is +Brother Syngleton Spyke, the other Mr. Detective Fitzgerald, a man of +more than middle stature, with compact figure, firmly-knit limbs, and an +expression of countenance rather pleasant. + +"You see, sir, this Toddleworth is a harmless creature, always aims to +be obliging and civil. I don't, sir--I really don't think he'll steal. +But one can't tell what a man will do who is driven to such straits as +the poor devils here are. We rather like Toddleworth at the station, +look upon him as rather wanting in the head, and for that reason rather +incline to favor him. I may say we now and then let him 'tie up' all +night in the station. And for this he seems very thankful. I may say," +continues Mr. Fitzgerald, touching the visor of his cap, "that he always +repays with kindness any little attention we may extend to him at the +station, and at times seems too anxious to make it his home. We give him +a shirt and a few shillings now and then; and when we want to be rid of +him we begin to talk about fashionable wives. He is sure to go then. +Can't stand such a topic, I assure you, sir, and is sure to go off in a +huff when Sergeant Pottle starts it." + +They enter the great door of the bottomless pit; the young missionary +hesitates. His countenance changes, his eyes scan steadily over the +scene. A room some sixty feet by twenty opens to his astonished eyes. +Its black, boarded walls, and bare beams, are enlivened here and there +with extravagant pictures of notorious pugilists, show-bills, and +illustrated advertisements of lascivious books, in which the murder of +an unfortunate woman is the principal feature. Slippery mud covers the +floor. Mr. Krone sits on an empty whiskey-barrel, his stunted features +betraying the hardened avarice of his character. He smokes his black +pipe, folds his arms deliberately, discoursing of the affairs of the +nation to two stupefied negroes and one blear-eyed son of the Emerald +Isle. Three uncouth females, with hair hanging matted over their faces, +and their features hidden in distortion, stand cooling their bared limbs +at a running faucet just inside the door, to the left. A group of +half-naked negroes lie insensible on the floor, to the right. A little +further on two prostrate females, shivering, and reeking of gin, sleep +undisturbed by the profanity that is making the very air resound. "The +gin gets a-many of us," is the mournful cry of many a wasting inebriate. +Mr. Krone, however, will tell you he has no sympathy with such cries. +You arraign, and perhaps punish, the apothecary who sells by mistake his +deadly drug. With a philosophical air, Mr. Krone will tell you he deals +out his poison without scruple, fills alms-houses without a pang of +remorse, and proves that a politician-maker may do much to degrade +society and remain in high favor with his friends of the bench of +justice. On one side of the dungeon-like place stands a rickety old +counter, behind which three savage-faced men stand, filling and serving +incessant potions of deleterious liquor to the miserable beings, haggard +and ragged, crowding to be first served. Behind the bar, or counter, +rises a pyramid of dingy shelves, on which are arranged little painted +kegs, labelled, and made bright by the glaring gas-light reflected upon +them. On the opposite side, on rows of slab benches, sit a group of +motley beings,--the young girl and the old man, the negro and the frail +white,--half sleeping, half conscious; all imbibing the stifling +draught. + +Like revelling witches in rags, and seen through the bedimmed atmosphere +at the further end of the den, are half-frantic men, women, and girls, +now sitting at deal tables, playing for drinks, now jostling, jeering, +and profaning in wild disorder. A girl of sixteen, wasted and deformed +with dissipation, approaches Brother Spyke, extends her blanched hand, +and importunes him for gin. He shudders, and shrinks from her touch, as +from a reptile. A look of scorn, and she turns from him, and is lost +among the grotesque crowd in the distance. + +"This gin," says Mr. Fitzgerald, turning methodically to Brother Spyke, +"they make do for food and clothing. We used to call this the devil's +paradise. As to Krone, we used to call him the devil's bar-tender. These +ragged revellers, you see, beg and steal during the day, and get gin +with it at night. Krone thinks nothing of it! Lord bless your soul, sir! +why, this man is reckoned a tip-top politician; on an emergency he can +turn up such a lot of votes!" Mr. Fitzgerald, approaching Mr. Krone, +says "you're a pretty fellow. Keeping such a place as this!" The +detective playfully strikes the hat of the other, crowding it over his +eyes, and inquiring if he has seen Tom Toddleworth during the day. Mr. +Toddleworth was not seen during the day. No one in the bottomless pit +knows where he may be found. A dozen husky voices are heard to say, he +has no home--stores himself away anywhere, and may be found everywhere. + +Brother Spyke bows, and sighs. Mr. Fitzgerald says: "he is always +harmless--this Toddleworth." As the two searchers are about to withdraw, +the shrunken figure of a woman rushes wildly into the pit. "Devils! +devils!--hideous devils of darkness! here you are--still +hover--hover--hovering; turning midnight into revelling, day into horrid +dreaming!" she shrieks at the top of her voice. Now she pauses suddenly, +and with a demoniacal laugh sets her dull, glassy eyes on Mr. Krone, +then walks round him with clenched fists and threatening gestures. The +politician-maker sits unmoved. Now she throws her hair about her bare +breasts, turns her eyes upward, imploringly, and approaches Brother +Spyke, with hand extended. Her tale of sorrow and suffering is written +in her very look. "She won't hurt you--never harms anybody;" says Mr. +Fitzgerald, methodically, observing Brother Spyke's timidity. + +"No, no, no," she mutters incoherently, "you are not of this place--you +know, like the rich world up-town, little of these revelling devils. +Cling! yes, cling to the wise one--tell him to keep you from this, and +forever be your teacher. Tell him! tell him! oh! tell him!" She wrings +her hands, and having sailed as it were into the further end of the pit, +vaults back, and commences a series of wild gyrations round Mr. Krone. + +"Poor wretch!" says Brother Spyke, complacently, "the gin has dried up +her senses--made her what she is." + +"Maniac Munday! Maniac Munday!" suddenly echoes and re-echoes through +the pit. She turns her ear, and with a listless countenance listens +attentively, then breaks out into an hysterical laugh. "Yes! ye +loathsome denizens. Like me, no one seeks you, no one cares for you. I +am poor, poor maniac Munday. The maniac that one fell error brought to +this awful end." Again she lowers her voice, flings her hair back over +her shoulders, and gives vent to her tears. Like one burdened with +sorrow she commences humming an air, that even in this dark den floats +sweetly through the polluted atmosphere. "Well, I am what I am," she +sighs, having paused in her tune. "That one fatal step--that plighted +faith! How bitter to look back." Her bony fingers wander to her lips, +which she commences biting and fretting, as her countenance becomes pale +and corpse-like. Again her reason takes its flight. She staggers to the +drenched counter, holds forth her bottle, lays her last sixpence +tauntingly upon the board, and watches with glassy eyes the drawing of +the poisonous drug. Meanwhile Mr. Krone, with an imprecation, declares +he has power to elect his candidate to the Senate. The man behind the +counter--the man of savage face, has filled the maniac's bottle, which +he pushes toward her with one hand, as with the other he sweeps her coin +into a drawer. "Oh! save poor maniac Munday--save poor maniac Munday!" +the woman cries, like one in despair, clutching the bottle, and reels +out of the pit. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII. + +IN WHICH IS PRESENTED ANOTHER PICTURE OF THE HOUSE OF THE NINE NATIONS. + + +Pale and hesitating, Brother Spyke says: "I have no passion for delving +into such places; and having seen enough for one night, am content to +leave the search for this vile old man to you." The valiant missionary +addresses Mr. Fitzgerald, who stands with one foot upon the rickety old +steps that lead to the second story of the House of the Nine Nations. + +This morning, Brother Spyke was ready to do battle with the whole +heathen world, to drag it up into light, to evangelize it. Now he quails +before this heathen world, so terribly dark, at his own door. + +"You have, sir," says the detective, "seen nuthin' as yet. The sights +are in these 'ere upper dens; but, I may say it, a body wants nerve. +Some of our Aldermen say ye can't see such sights nowhere else." + +The missionary replies, holding tenaciously to his umbrella, "That may +be true; but I fear they will be waiting me at home." Again he scans +inquiringly into the drenched area of the Points; then bidding the +officer good-night, is soon out of sight, on his way into Centre Street. +Reaching the old stoop, the detective touches a spring, and the +shattered door opens into a narrow, gloomy passage, along which he +gropes his way, over a floor cobbled with filth, and against an +atmosphere thick of disease. Now a faint light flashes through a crevice +in the left wall, plays fantastically upon the black surface of the +opposite, then dies away. The detective lights his lantern, stands a +moment with his ear turned, as if listening to the revelry in the +bottomless pit. A door opens to his touch, he enters a cave-like +room--it is the one from out which the light stole so curiously, and in +which all is misery and sadness. A few embers still burn in a great +brick fireplace, shedding a lurid glow over the damp, filthy walls, the +discolored ceiling, and the grotesque group upon the floor. "You needn't +come at this time of night--we are all honest people;" speaks a massive +negro, of savage visage, who (he is clothed in rags) sits at the left +side of the fireplace. He coaxes the remnant of his fire to cook some +coarse food he has placed in a small, black stew-pan, he watches with +steady gaze. Three white females (we blush to say it), their bare, +brawny arms resting on their knees, and their disfigured faces drooped +into their hands, form an half circle on the opposite side. + +"The world don't think nothin' of us down here--we haven't had a bite to +eat to-night," gruffly resumes the negro. + +"May them that have riches enjoy them, for to be supperless is no +uncommon thing wid us," interrupts one of the women, gathering about her +the shreds of her tattered garment, parting the matted hair over her +face, and revealing her ghastly features. The detective turns his light +full upon her. "If we live we live, if we die we die--nobody cares! Look +you yonder, Mr. Fitzgerald," continues the negro, with a sarcastic leer. +Turning his light to where the negro points, the detective casts a +glance into the shadow, and there discovers the rags move. A dozen pair +of glassy eyes are seen peering from out the filthy coverings, over +which lean arms and blanched hands keep up an incessant motion. Here an +emaciated and heart-sick Welsh girl, of thirteen (enciente) lays +shivering on the broken floor; there an half-famished Scotch woman, two +moaning children nestling at her heart, suffers uncovered upon a pallet +of straw. The busy world without would seem not to have a care for her; +the clergy have got the heathen world upon their shoulders. Hunger, like +a grim tyrant, has driven her to seek shelter in this wretched abode. +Despair has made her but too anxious that the grave or prison walls +should close the record of her sorrows. How tightly she with her right +hand presses her babe to her bosom; how appealingly with her left she +asks a pittance of the detective! Will he not save from death her +starving child? He has nothing to give her, turns his head, answers only +with a look of pity, and moves slowly towards the door. + +"You have not been long off the Island, Washington?" inquires the +detective, with an air of familiarity. + +"I wish," replies the negro, sullenly, "I was back. An honest man as I +is, can't get on in this world. Necessity makes rascals of better men +than me, Mr. Fitzgerald. Mr. Krone (he's a white man, though) makes all +the politicians for the district, and charges me eight dollars a month +for this hole. Just measure them two things together, Mr. Fitzgerald; +then see if takin' in sixpenny, lodgers pays." Mr. Fitzgerald commences +counting them. "You needn't count," pursues the negro, uncovering his +stew-pan, "there's only eighteen in to-night. Have twenty, sometimes! +Don't get nothin' for that poor Scotch woman an' her children. Can't +get it when they hain't got it--you know that, Mr. Fitzgerald." + +The detective inquires if any of them have seen Mr. Toddleworth to-day. +Washington has not seen him, and makes no scruple of saying he thinks +very little of him. + +"Faith an' it's hard times with poor Tom," speaks up one of the women, +in a deep brogue. "It was only last night--the same I'm tellin' is true, +God knows--Mrs. McCarty took him to the Rookery--the divil a mouthful +he'd ate durin' the day--and says, bein' a ginerous sort of body, come, +take a drop, an' a bite to ate. Mister Toddleworth did that same, and +thin lay the night on the floor. To-night--it's the truth, God +knows--Tom Downey took him above. An' it's Tom who woundn't be the frind +of the man who hadn't a shillin' in his pocket." + +The detective shrugs his shoulders, and having thanked the woman, +withdraws into the passage, to the end of which he cautiously picks his +way, and knocks at a distained door that fronts him. A voice deep and +husky bids him enter, which he does, as the lurid glare of his lantern +reveals a room some twelve by sixteen feet, the plaster hanging in +festoons from the black walls, and so low of ceiling that he scarce can +stand upright. Four bunk-beds, a little bureau, a broken chair or two, +and a few cheap pictures, hung here and there on the sombre walls, give +it an air of comfort in grateful contrast with the room just left. "Who +lives here?" inquires the detective, turning his light full upon each +object that attracts his attention. "Shure it's only me--Mrs. Terence +Murphy--and my three sisters (the youngest is scarce fourteen), and the +two English sisters: all honest people, God knows," replies Mrs. Murphy, +with a rapid tongue. + +"It's not right of you to live this way," returns the detective, +continuing to survey the prostrate forms of Mrs. Murphy, her three +sisters, and the two fair-haired English girls, and the besotted beings +they claim as husbands. Alarm is pictured in every countenance. A +browned face withdraws under a dingy coverlid, an anxious face peers +from out a pallet on the floor, a prostrate figure in the corner +inquires the object of Mr. Detective Fitzgerald's visit--and Mrs. +Murphy, holding it more becoming of respectable society, leaves the bed +in which she had accommodated five others, and gets into one she calls +her own. A second thought, and she makes up her mind not to get into +bed, but to ask Mr. Fitzgerald if he will be good enough, when next he +meets his Onher, the Mayor, just to say to him how Mr. Krone is bringing +disgrace upon the house and every one in it, by letting rooms to +negroes. Here she commences pouring out her pent-up wrath upon the head +of Mr. Krone, and the colored gentleman, whom she declares has a dozen +white females in his room every night. The detective encourages her by +saying it is not right of Mr. Krone, who looks more at the color of his +money than the skin of his tenants. "To come of a dacint family--and be +brought to this!" says Mrs. Murphy, allowing her passion to rise, and +swearing to have revenge of the negro in the next room. + +"You drink this gin, yet--I have warned you against it," interposes the +detective, pointing to some bottles on the bureau. "Faith, an' it's the +gin gets a many of us," returns the woman, curtly, as she gathers about +her the skirts of her garments. "Onyhow, yerself wouldn't deprive us of +a drop now and then, jist to keep up the spirits." The detective shakes +his head, then discloses to them the object of his search, adding, in +parenthesis, that he does not think Mr. Toddleworth is the thief. A +dozen tongues are ready to confirm the detective's belief. "Not a +shillin' of it did the poor crature take--indeed he didn't, now, Mr. +Fitzgerald. 'Onor's 'onor, all over the wurld!" says Mrs. Murphy, +grasping the detective by the hand. "Stay till I tell ye all about it. +Mary Maguire--indeed an' ye knows her, Mr. Fitzgerald--this same +afternoon looked in to say--'how do ye do, Mrs. Murphy. See this! Mrs. +Murphy,' says she, 'an' the divil a sich a pocket of money I'd see +before, as she held in her right hand, jist. 'Long life to ye, Mary,' +says I. 'We'll have a pint, Mrs. Murphy,' says she. 'May ye niver want +the worth of it,' says I. And the pint was not long in, when Mary got a +little the worse of it, and let all out about the money. 'You won't +whisper it, Mrs. Murphy,' says she, 'if I'd tell ye in confidence by +what manes I got the lift?'" + +"'Not in the wide world, Mary,' says I; 'ye may trust me for that same.' +'Shure didn't I raise it from the pocket of an auld woman in spectacles, +that watched the fool beyant dig up the corporation.' 'An' it'll not do +yerself much good,' says I, liftin' the same, and cuttin' away to the +house. 'You won't whisper it?' says she." + +"I can confirm the truth of that same," rejoins a brusque-figured man, +rising from his pallet, and speaking with regained confidence. "Mary +looked in at the Blazers, and being the worse of liquor, showed a dale +of ready money, and trated everybody, and gave the money to everybody, +and was wilcome wid everybody. Then Mrs. McCarty got aboard of her +ginerosity, and got her into the Rookery, where the Miss McCartys +thought it would not be amiss to have a quart. The same was brought in, +and Mary hersel' was soon like a dead woman on the floor, jist--" + +"And they got the money all away?" interrupts the detective. + +"Faith, an' she'll not have a blessed dollar come daylight," continues +the man, resuming his pallet. + +The detective bids Mrs. Murphy good night, and is soon groping his way +over a rickety old floor, along a dark, narrow passage, scarce high +enough to admit him, and running at right angles with the first. A door +on the left opens into a grotto-like place, the sickly atmosphere of +which seems hurling its poison into the very blood. "Who's here?" +inquires the detective, and a voice, feeble and hollow, responds: +"Lodgers!" + +The damp, greasy walls; the broken ceilings; the sooty fireplace, with +its shattered bricks; the decayed wainscoating--its dark, forlorn +aspect, all bespeak it the fit abode of rats. And yet Mr. Krone thinks +it comfortable enough (the authorities think Mr. Krone the best judge) +for the accommodation of thirteen remnants of human misery, all of whom +are here huddled together on the wet, broken floor, borrowing warmth of +one another. The detective's light falls curiously upon the dread +picture, which he stands contemplating. A pale, sickly girl, of some +eleven summers, her hair falling wildly over her wan features, lays upon +some rags near the fireplace, clinging to an inebriated mother. Here a +father, heart-sick and prostrate with disease, seeks to keep warm his +three ragged children, nestling about him. An homeless outcast, +necessity forces him to send them out to prey upon the community by day, +and to seek in this wretched hovel a shelter at night. Yonder the rags +are thrown back, a moving mass is disclosed, and there protrudes a +disfigured face, made ghostly by the shadow of the detective's lantern. +At the detective's feet a prostrate girl, insensible of gin, is seized +with convulsions, clutches with wasted hands at the few rags about her +poor, flabby body, then with fingers grasping, and teeth firmly set, her +whole frame writhes in agony. Your missionary never whispered a kind, +encouraging word in her ear; his hand never pressed that blanched bone +with which she now saddens your heart! Different might it have been with +her had some gentle-tongued Brother Spyke sought her out, bore patiently +with her waywardness, snatched her from this life of shame, and placed +her high in an atmosphere of light and love. + +It is here, gentle shepherds, the benighted stand most in need of your +labors. Seek not to evangelize the Mahomedan world until you have worked +a reform here; and when you have done it, a monument in heaven will be +your reward. + +"Mr. Toddleworth is not here," says the detective, withdrawing into the +passage, then ascending a broken and steep stairs that lead into the +third story. Nine shivering forms crouched in one dismal room; four +squabbish women, and three besotted men in another; and in a third, nine +ragged boys and two small girls--such are the scenes of squalid misery +presented here. In a little front room, Mr. Tom Downey, his wife, and +eight children, lay together upon the floor, half covered with rags. Mr. +Downey startles at the appearance of the detective, rises nervously from +his pallet, and after the pause of a moment, says: "Indeed, yer welcome, +Mr. Fitzgerald. Indeed, I have not--an' God knows it's the truth I +tell--seen Mr. Toddleworth the week;" he replies, in answer to a +question from the detective. + +"You took a drop with him this afternoon?" continues the detective, +observing his nervousness. + +"God knows it's a mistake, Mr. Fitzgerald." Mr. Downey changes the +subject, by saying the foreigners in the garret are a great nuisance, +and disturb him of his rest at night. + +A small, crooked stair leads into "Organ-grinders' Roost," in the +garret. To "Organ-grinders' Roost" the detective ascends. If, reader, +you have ever pictured in your mind the cave of despair, peopled by +beings human only in shape, you may form a faint idea of the +wretchedness presented in "Organ-grinders' Roost," at the top of the +house of the Nine Nations. Seven stalworth men shoot out from among a +mass of rags on the floor, and with dark, wandering eyes, and massive, +uncombed beards, commence in their native Italian a series of +interrogatories, not one of which the detective can understand. They +would inquire for whom he seeks at this strange hour. He (the detective) +stands unmoved, as with savage gesture--he has discovered his star--they +tell him they are famishing of hunger. A pretty black-eyed girl, to +whose pale, but beautifully oval face an expression of sorrow lends a +touching softness, lays on the bare floor, beside a mother of +patriarchal aspect. Now she is seized with a sharp cough that brings +blood at every paroxysm. As if forgetting herself, she lays her hand +gently upon the cheek of her mother, anxious to comfort her. Ah! the +hard hand of poverty has been upon her through life, and stubbornly +refuses to relax its grip, even in her old age. An organ forms here and +there a division between the sleepers; two grave-visaged monkeys sit +chattering in the fireplace, then crouch down on the few charred sticks. +A picture of the crucifix is seen conspicuous over the dingy fireplace, +while from the slanting roof hang several leathern girdles. Oh, what a +struggle for life is their's! Mothers, fathers, daughters, and little +children, thus promiscuously grouped, and coming up in neglect and +shame. There an old man, whom remorseless death is just calling into +eternity, with dull, glassy eyes, white, flowing beard, bald head, +sunken mouth, begrimed and deeply-wrinkled face, rises, spectre-like, +from his pallet. Now he draws from his breast a small crucifix, and +commences muttering to it in a guttural voice. "Peace, peace, good old +man--the holy father will come soon--the holy virgin will come soon: he +will receive the good spirit to his bosom," says a black-eyed daughter, +patting him gently upon the head, then looking in his face solicitously, +as he turns his eyes upward, and for a few moments seems invoking the +mercy of the Allwise. "Yes, father," she resumes, lightening up the mat +of straw upon which he lays, "the world has been unkind to you, but you +are passing from it to a better--you will be at peace soon." + +"Soon, soon, soon," mumbles the old man, in a whisper; and having +carefully returned the crucifix to his bosom, grasps fervently the hand +of the girl and kisses it, as her eyes swim in tears. + +Such, to the shame of those who live in princely palaces, and revel in +luxury, are but faintly-drawn pictures of what may be seen in the house +of the Nine Nations. + +The detective is about to give up the search, and turns to descend the +stairs, when suddenly he discerns a passage leading to the north end of +the garret. Here, in a little closet-like room, on the right, the rats +his only companions, lies the prostrate form of poor Toddleworth. + +"Well, I persevered till I found you," says the detective, turning his +light full upon the body. Another minute, and his features become as +marble; he stands aghast, and his whole frame seems struggling under the +effect of some violent shock. "What, what, what!" he shouts, in nervous +accents, "Murder! murder! murder! some one has murdered him." Motionless +the form lies, the shadow of the light revealing the ghastly spectacle. +The head lies in a pool of blood, the bedimmed eyes, having taken their +last look, remain fixedly set on the black roof. "He has died of a +blow--of a broken skull!" says the frightened official, feeling, and +feeling, and pressing the arms and hands that are fast becoming rigid. +Life is gone out; a pauper's grave will soon close over what remains of +this wretched outcast. The detective hastens down stairs, spreads the +alarm over the neighborhood, and soon the House of the Nine Nations is +the scene of great excitement. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX. + +IN WHICH MAY BE SEEN A FEW OF OUR COMMON EVILS. + + +Leaving for a time the scenes in the House of the Nine Nations, let us +return to Charleston, that we may see how matters appertaining to this +history are progressing. Mr. Snivel is a popular candidate for the +Senate of South Carolina; and having shot his man down in the street, +the question of his fighting abilities we regard as honorably settled. +Madame Montford, too, has by him been kept in a state of nervous +anxiety, for he has not yet found time to search in the "Poor-house for +the woman Munday." All our very first, and best-known families, have +dropped Madame, who is become a wet sheet on the fashionable world. A +select committee of the St. Cecilia has twice considered her expulsion, +while numerous very respectable and equally active old ladies have been +shaking their scandal-bags at her head. Sins have been laid at her door +that would indeed damage a reputation with a fairer endorsement than New +York can give. + +Our city at this moment is warmed into a singular state of excitement. A +Georgia editor (we regard editors as belonging to a very windy class of +men), not having the mightiness of our chivalry before him, said the +Union would have peace if South Carolina were shut up in a penitentiary. +And for this we have invited the indiscreet gentleman to step over the +border, that we may hang him, being extremely fond of such common-place +amusements. What the facetious fellow meant was, that our own State +would enjoy peace and prosperity were our mob-politicians all in the +penitentiary. And with this sensible opinion we heartily agree. + +We regard our state of civilization as extremely enviable. To-day we +made a lion of the notorious Hines, the forger. Hines, fashioning after +our hapless chivalry, boasts that South Carolina is his State--his +political mother. He has, nevertheless, graced with his presence no few +penitentiaries. We feasted him in that same prison where we degrade and +starve the honest poor; we knew him guilty of an heinous crime--yet we +carried him jubilantly to the "halls of justice." And while +distinguished lawyers tendered their services to the "clever villain," +you might have witnessed in sorrow a mock trial, and heard a mob +sanction with its acclamations his release. + +Oh, truth and justice! how feeble is thy existence where the god slavery +reigns. And while men are heard sounding the praises of this highwayman +at the street corners, extolling men who have shot down their fellow-men +in the streets, and calling those "Hon. gentlemen," who have in the most +cowardly manner assassinated their opponents, let us turn to a different +picture. Two genteely-dressed men are seen entering the old, jail. "I +have twice promised them a happy surprise," says one, whose pale, +studious features, wear an expression of gentleness. The face of the +other is somewhat florid, but beaming with warmth of heart. They enter, +having passed up one of the long halls, a room looking into the +prison-yard. Several weary-faced prisoners are seated round a deal +table, playing cards; among them is the old sailor described in the +early part of this history. "You don't know my friend, here?" says the +young man of the studious face, addressing the prisoners, and pointing +to his companion. The prisoners look inquiringly at the stranger, then +shake their heads in response. + +"No, you don't know me: you never knew me when I was a man," speaks the +stranger, raising his hat, as a smile lights up his features. "You don't +know Tom Swiggs, the miserable inebriate--" + +A spontaneous shout of recognition, echoing and reechoing through the +old halls, interrupts this declaration. One by one the imprisoned men +grasp him by the hand, and shower upon him the warmest, the heartiest +congratulations. A once fallen brother has risen to a knowledge of his +own happiness. Hands that raised him from that mat of straw, when the +mental man seemed lost, now welcome him restored, a purer being. + +"Ah, Spunyarn," says Tom, greeting the old sailor with childlike +fondness, as the tears are seen gushing into the eyes, and coursing down +the browned face of the old mariner, "I owe you a debt I fear I never +can pay. I have thought of you in my absence, and had hoped on my return +to see you released. I am sorry you are not--" + +"Well, as to that," interrupts the old sailor, his face resuming its +wonted calm, "I can't--you know I can't, Tom,--sail without a clearance. +I sometimes think I'm never going to get one. Two years, as you know, +I've been here, now backing and then filling, in and out, just as it +suits that chap with the face like a snatch-block. They call him a +justice. 'Pon my soul, Tom, I begin to think justice for us poor folks +is got aground. Well, give us your hand agin' (he seizes Tom by the +hand); its all well wi' you, anyhows.' + +"Yes, thank God," says Tom, returning his friendly shake, "I have +conquered the enemy, and my thanks for it are due to those who reached +my heart with kind words, and gave me a brother's hand. I was not dead +to my own degradation; but imprisonment left me no hope. The sting of +disappointment may pain your feelings; hope deferred may torture you +here in a prison; the persecutions of enemies may madden your very soul; +but when a mother turns coldly from you--No, I will not say it, for I +love her still--" he hesitates, as the old sailor says, with touching +simplicity, he never knew what it was to have a mother or father. Having +spread before the old man and his companions sundry refreshments he had +ordered brought in, and received in return their thanks, he inquires of +Spunyarn how it happened that he got into prison, and how it is that he +remains here a fixture. + +"I'll tell you, Tom," says the old sailor, commencing his story. "We'd +just come ashore--had a rough passage--and, says I to myself, here's lay +up ashore awhile. So I gets a crimp, who takes me to a crib. 'It's all +right here--you'll have snug quarters, Jack,' says he, introducing me to +the chap who kept it. I gives him twenty dollars on stack, and gets up +my chest and hammock, thinking it was all fair and square. Then I meets +an old shipmate, who I took in tow, he being hard ashore for cash. 'Let +us top the meetin' with a glass,' says I. 'Agreed,' says Bill, and I +calls her on, the very best. 'Ten cents a glass,' says the fellow behind +the counter, giving us stuff that burnt as it went. 'Mister,' says I, +'do ye want to poison a sailor?' 'If you no like him,' says he, 'go get +better somewhere else.' I told him to give me back the twenty, and me +dunnage. + +"'You don't get him--clear out of mine 'ouse,' says he. + +"'Under the peak,' says I, fetching him a but under the lug that beached +him among his beer-barrels. He picked himself up, and began talking +about a magistrate. And knowing what sort of navigation a fellow'd have +in the hands of that sort of land-craft, I began to think about laying +my course for another port. 'Hold on here,' says a big-sided +land-lubber, seizing me by the fore-sheets. 'Cast off there,' says I, +'or I'll put ye on yer beam-ends.' + +"'I'm a constable,' says he, pulling out a pair of irons he said must go +on my hands." + +"I hope he did not put them on," interrupts the young theologian, for it +is he who accompanies Tom. + +"Avast! I'll come to that. He said he'd only charge me five dollars for +going to jail without 'em, so rather than have me calling damaged, I giv +him it. It was only a trifle. 'Now, Jack,' says the fellow, as we went +along, in a friendly sort of way, 'just let us pop in and see the +justice. I think a ten 'll get ye a clearance.' 'No objection to that,' +says I, and in we went, and there sat the justice, face as long and +sharp as a marlinspike, in a dirty old hole, that looked like our +forecastle. 'Bad affair this, Jack,' says he, looking up over his +spectacles. 'You must be locked up for a year and a day, Jack.' + +"'You'll give a sailor a hearin', won't ye?' says I. 'As to that,--well, +I don't know, Jack; you musn't break the laws of South Carolina when you +get ashore. You seem like a desirable sailor, and can no doubt get a +ship and good wages--this is a bad affair. However, as I'm not inclined +to be hard, if you are disposed to pay twenty dollars, you can go.' 'Law +and justice,' says I, shaking my fist at him--'do ye take this +salt-water citizen for a fool?' + +"'Take him away, Mr. Stubble--lock him up!--lock him up!' says the +justice, and here I am, locked up, hard up, hoping. I'd been tied up +about three weeks when the justice looked in one day, and after +inquiring for me, and saying, 'good morning, Jack,' and seeming a little +by the head: 'about this affair of yourn, Jack,' says he, 'now, if +you'll mind your eye when you get out--my trouble's worth ten +dollars--and pay me, I'll discharge you, and charge the costs to the +State.' + +"'Charge the cost to the State!' says I. 'Do you take Spunyarn for a +marine?' At this he hauled his wind, and stood out." + +"You have had a hearing before the Grand Jury, have you not?" inquires +Tom, evincing a deep interest in the story of his old friend. + +"Not I. This South Carolina justice is a hard old craft to sail in. The +Grand Jury only looks in once every six months, and then looks out +again, without inquiring who's here. And just before the time it comes +round, I'm shuffled out, and just after it has left, I'm shuffled in +again--fees charged to the State! That's it. So here I am, a fee-making +machine, bobbing in and out of jail to suit the conveniences of Mister +Justice. I don't say this with any ill will--I don't." Having concluded +his story, the old sailor follows his visitors to the prison gate, takes +an affectionate leave of Tom Swiggs, and returns to join his companions. +On the following day, Tom intercedes with Mr. Snivel, for it is he who +thus harvests fees of the State by retaining the old sailor in prison, +and procures his release. And here, in Mr. Snivel, you have an +instrument of that debased magistracy which triumphs over the weak, that +sits in ignorance and indolence, that invests the hypocritical designer +with a power almost absolute, that keeps justice muzzled on her +throne--the natural offspring of that demon-making institution that +scruples not to brunt the intellect of millions, while dragging a pall +of sloth over the land. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX. + +CONTAINING VARIOUS THINGS APPERTAINING TO THIS HISTORY. + + +Maria McArthur having, by her womanly sympathy, awakened the generous +impulses of Tom Swiggs, he is resolved they shall have a new channel for +their action. Her kindness touched his heart; her solicitude for his +welfare gained his affections, and a recognition of that love she so +long and silently cherished for him, is the natural result. The heart +that does not move to woman's kindness, must indeed be hard. But there +were other things which strengthened Tom's affections for Maria. The +poverty of her aged father; the insults offered her by Keepum and +Snivel; the manner in which they sought her ruin while harassing her +father; the artlessness and lone condition of the pure-minded girl; and +the almost holy affection evinced for the old man on whom she doted--all +tended to bring him nearer and nearer to her, until he irresistibly +found himself at her feet, pledging that faith lovers call eternal. +Maria is not of that species of being the world calls beautiful; but +there is about her something pure, thoughtful, even noble; and this her +lone condition heightens. Love does not always bow before beauty. The +singularities of human nature are most strikingly blended in woman. She +can overcome physical defects; she can cultivate attractions most +appreciated by those who study her worth deepest. Have you not seen +those whose charms at first-sight found no place in your thoughts, but +as you were drawn nearer and nearer to them, so also did your esteem +quicken, and that esteem, almost unconsciously, you found ripening into +affection, until in turn you were seized with an ardent passion? You +have. And you have found yourself enamored of the very one against whom +you had endeavored most to restrain your generous impulses. Like the +fine lines upon a picture with a repulsive design, you trace them, and +recur to them until your admiration is carried away captive. So it is +with woman's charms. Tom Swiggs, then, the restored man, bows before the +simple goodness of the daughter of the old Antiquary. + +Mr. Trueman, the shipowner, gave Tom employment, and has proved a friend +to him. Tom, in turn, has so far gained his confidence and respect that +Mr. Trueman contemplates sending him to London, on board one of his +ships. Nor has Tom forgotten to repay the old Antiquary, who gave him a +shelter when he was homeless; this home is still under the roof of the +old man, toward whose comfort he contributes weekly a portion of his +earnings. If you could but look into that little back-parlor, you would +see a picture of humble cheerfulness presented in the old man, his +daughter, and Tom Swiggs, seated round the tea-table. Let us, however, +turn and look into one of our gaudy saloons, that we may see how +different a picture is presented there. + +It is the night previous to an election for Mayor. Leaden clouds hang +threatening over the city; the gas-light throws out its shadows at an +early hour; and loud-talking men throng our street-corners and public +resorts. Our politicians tell us that the destiny of the rich and the +poor is to forever guard that institution which employs all our +passions, and absorbs all our energies. + +In a curtained box, at the St. Charles, sits Mr. Snivel and George +Mullholland--the latter careworn and downcast of countenance. "Let us +finish this champaign, my good fellow," says the politician, emptying +his glass. "A man--I mean one who wants to get up in the world--must, +like me, have two distinct natures. He must have a grave, moral +nature--that is necessary to the affairs of State. And he must, to +accommodate himself to the world (law and society, I mean), have a +terribly loose nature--a perfect quicksand, into which he can drag +everything that serves himself. You have seen how I can develop both +these, eh?" The downcast man shakes his head, as the politician watches +him with a steady gaze. "Take the advice of a friend, now, let the Judge +alone--don't threaten again to shoot that girl. Threats are sometimes +dragged in as testimony against a man (Mr. Snivel taps George +admonishingly on the arm); and should anything of a serious nature +befall her--the law is curious--why, what you have said might implicate +you, though you were innocent." + +"You," interrupts George, "have shot your man down in the street." + +"A very different affair, George. My position in society protects me. I +am a member of the Jockey-Club, a candidate for the State Senate--a +Justice of the Peace--yes, a politician! You are--Well, I was going to +say--nothing! We regard northerners as enemies; socially, they are +nothing. Come, George, come with me. I am your best friend. You shall +see the power in my hands." The two men saunter out together, pass up a +narrow lane leading from King Street, and are soon groping their way up +the dark stairway of an old, neglected-looking wooden building, that for +several years has remained deserted by everything but rats and +politicians,--one seeming to gnaw away at the bowels of the nation, the +other at the bowels of the old building. Having ascended to the second +floor, Mr. Snivel touches a spring, a suspicious little trap opens, and +two bright eyes peer out, as a low, whispering voice inquires, "Who's +there?" Mr. Snivel has exchanged the countersign, and with his companion +is admitted into a dark vestibule, in which sits a brawny guardsman. + +"Cribs are necessary, sir--I suppose you never looked into one before?" + +George, in a voice discovering timidity, says he never has. + +"You must have cribs, and crib-voters; they are necessary to get into +high office--indeed, I may say, to keep up with the political spirit of +the age." Mr. Snivel is interrupted by the deep, coarse voice of Milman +Mingle, the vote-cribber, whose broad, savage face looks out at a small +guard trap. "All right," he says, recognizing Mr. Snivel. Another +minute, and a door opens into a long, sombre-looking room, redolent of +the fumes of whiskey and tobacco. "The day is ours. We'll elect our +candidate, and then my election is certain; naturalized thirteen rather +green ones to-day--to-morrow they will be trump cards. Stubbs has +attended to the little matter of the ballot-boxes." Mr. Snivel gives the +vote-cribber's hand a warm shake, and turns to introduce his friend. The +vote-cribber has seen him before. "There are thirteen in," he says, and +two more he has in his eye, and will have in to-night, having sent +trappers out for them. + +Cold meats, bread, cheese, and crackers, and a bountiful supply of bad +whiskey, are spread over a table in the centre of the room; while the +pale light of two small lamps, suspended from the ceiling, throws a +curious shadow over the repulsive features of thirteen forlorn, ragged, +and half-drunken men, sitting here and there round the room, on wooden +benches. You see ignorance and cruelty written in their very +countenances. For nearly three weeks they have not scented the air of +heaven, but have been held here in a despicable bondage. Ragged and +filthy, like Falstaff's invincibles, they will be marched to the polls +to-morrow, and cast their votes at the bid of the cribber. "A happy lot +of fellows," says Mr. Snivel, exultingly. "I have a passion for this +sort of business--am general supervisor of all these cribs, you +understand. We have several of them. Some of these 'drifts' we kidnap, +and some come and be locked up of their own accord--merely for the feed +and drink. We use them, and then snuff them out until we want them +again." Having turned from George, and complimented the vote-cribber for +his skill, he bids him good-night. Together George and the politician +wend their way to an obscure part of the city, and having passed up two +flight of winding stairs, into a large, old-fashioned house on the Neck, +are in a sort of barrack-room, fitted up with bunks and benches, and +filled with a grotesque assembly, making night jubilant--eating, +drinking, smoking, and singing. "A jolly set of fellows," says Mr. +Snivel, with an expression of satisfaction. "This is a decoy crib--the +vagabonds all belong to the party of our opponents, but don't know it. +We work in this way: we catch them--they are mostly foreigners--lock +them up, give them good food and drink, and make them--not the half can +speak our language--believe we belong to the same party. They yield, as +submissive as curs. To morrow, we--this is in confidence--drug them all, +send them into a fast sleep, in which we keep them till the polls are +closed, then, not wanting them longer, we kick them out for a set of +drunkards. Dangerous sort of cribbing, this. I let you into the secret +out of pure friendship." Mr. Snivel pauses. George has at heart +something of deeper interest to him than votes and vote-cribbers. But +why, he says to himself, does Mr. Snivel evince this anxiety to befriend +me? This question is answered by Mr. Snivel inviting him to take a look +into the Keno den. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI. + +THE KENO DEN, AND WHAT MAY BE SEEN IN IT. + + +The clock has just struck twelve. Mr. Snivel and George, passing from +the scenes of our last chapter, enter a Keno den,[5] situated on Meeting +street. "You must get money, George. Here you are nothing without money. +Take this, try your hand, make your genius serve you." Mr. Snivel puts +twenty dollars into George's hand. They are in a room some twenty by +thirty feet in dimensions, dimly-lighted. Standing here and there are +gambling tables, around which are seated numerous mechanics, losing, and +being defrauded of that for which they have labored hard during the +week. Hope, anxiety, and even desperation is pictured on the +countenances of the players. Maddened and disappointed, one young man +rises from a table, at which sits a craven-faced man sweeping the +winnings into his pile, and with profane tongue, says he has lost his +all. Another, with flushed face and bloodshot eyes, declares it the +sixth time he has lost his earnings here. A third reels confusedly about +the room, says a mechanic is but a dog in South Carolina; and the sooner +he comes to a dog's end the better. + +[Footnote 5: A gambling den.] + +Mr. Snivel points George to a table, at which he is soon seated. +"Blank--blank--blank!" he reiterates, as the numbers turn up, and one by +one the moody bank-keeper sweeps the money into his fast-increasing +heap. "Cursed fate!--it is against me," mutters the forlorn man. +"Another gone, and yet another! How this deluding, this fascinating +money tortures me." With hectic face and agitated nerve, he puts down +his last dollar. "Luck's mysterious!" exclaims Mr. Snivel, looking on +unmoved, as the man of the moody face declares a blank, and again sweeps +the money into his heap. "Gone!" says George, "all's gone now." He rises +from his seat, in despair. + +"Don't get frantic, George--be a philosopher--try again--here's a ten. +Luck 'll turn," says Mr. Snivel, patting the deluded man familiarly on +the shoulder, as he resumes his seat. "Will poverty never cease +torturing me? I have tried to be a man, an honest man, a respectable +man. And yet, here I am, again cast upon a gambler's sea, struggling +with its fearful tempests. How cold, how stone-like the faces around +me!" he muses, watching with death-like gaze each number as it turns up. +Again he has staked his last dollar; again fortune frowns upon him. Like +a furnace of livid flame, the excitement seems burning up his brain. "I +am a fool again," he says, throwing the blank number contemptuously upon +the table. "Take it--take it, speechless, imperturbable man! Rake it +into your pile, for my eyes are dim, and my fortune I must seek +elsewhere." + +A noise at the door, as of some one in distress, is heard, and there +rushes frantically into the den a pale, dejected-looking woman, bearing +in her arms a sick and emaciated babe. "Oh, William! William!--has it +come to this?" she shrieks, casting a wild glance round the den, until, +with a dark, sad expression, her eye falls upon the object of her +search. It is her husband, once a happy mechanic. Enticed by degrees +into this den of ruin, becoming fascinated with its games of chance, he +is how an _habitue_. To-night he left his suffering family, lost his all +here, and now, having drank to relieve his feelings, lies insensible on +the floor. "Come home!--come home! for God's sake come home to your +suffering family," cries the woman, vaulting to him and taking him by +the hand, her hair floating dishevelled down her shoulders. "I sent +Tommy into the street to beg--I am ashamed--and he is picked up by the +watch for a thief, a vagrant!" The prostrate man remains insensible to +her appeal. Two policemen, who have been quietly neglecting their duties +while taking a few chances, sit unmoved. Mr. Snivel thinks the woman +better be removed. "Our half-starved mechanics," he says, "are a +depraved set; and these wives they bring with them from the North are a +sort of cross between a lean stage-driver and a wildcat. She seems a +poor, destitute creature--just what they all come to, out here." Mr. +Snivel shrugs his shoulders, bids George good night, and takes his +departure. "Take care of yourself, George," he says admonitiously, as +the destitute man watches him take his leave. The woman, frantic at the +coldness and apathy manifested for her distress, lays her babe hurriedly +upon the floor, and with passion and despair darting from her very eyes, +makes a lunge across the keno table at the man who sits stoically at the +bank. In an instant everything is turned into uproar and confusion. +Glasses, chairs, and tables, are hurled about the floor; shriek follows +shriek--"help! pity me! murder!" rises above the confusion, the watch +without sound the alarm, and the watch within suddenly become conscious +of their duty. In the midst of all the confusion, a voice cries out: +"My pocket book--my pocket book!--I have been robbed." A light flashes +from a guardsman's lantern, and George Mullholland is discovered with +the forlorn woman in his arms--she clings tenaciously to her +babe--rushing into the street. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII. + +WHICH A STATE OF SOCIETY IS SLIGHTLY REVEALED. + + +A week has rolled into the past since the event at the Keno den. + +Madame Montford, pale, thoughtful, and abstracted, sits musing in her +parlor. "Between this hope and fear--this remorse of conscience, this +struggle to overcome the suspicions of society, I have no peace. I am +weary of this slandering--this unforgiving world. And yet it is my own +conscience that refuses to forgive me. Go where I will I see the cold +finger of scorn pointed at me: I read in every countenance, 'Madame +Montford, you have wronged some one--your guilty conscience betrays +you!' I have sought to atone for my error--to render justice to one my +heart tells me I have wronged, yet I cannot shake off the dread burden; +and there seems rest for me only in the grave. Ah! there it is. The one +error of my life, and the moans used to conceal it, may have brought +misery upon more heads than one." She lays her hand upon her heart, and +shakes her head sorrowfully. "Yes! something like a death-knell rings in +my ears--'more than one have you sent, unhappy, to the grave.' Rejected +by the one I fancy my own; my very touch, scorned; my motives +misconstrued--all, perhaps, by--a doubt yet hangs between us--an +abandoned stranger. Duty to my conscience has driven me to acts that +have betrayed me to society. I cannot shake my guilt from me even for a +day; and now society coldly cancels all my claims to its attentions. If +I could believe her dead; if I but knew this girl was not the object of +all my heart's unrest, then the wearying doubt would be buried, and my +heart might find peace in some remote corner of the earth. Well, +well--perhaps I am wasting all this torture on an unworthy object. I +should have thought of this sooner, for now foul slander is upon every +tongue, and my misery is made thrice painful by my old flatterers. I +will make one more effort, then if I fail of getting a certain clue to +her, I will remove to some foreign country, shake off these haunting +dreams, and be no longer a victim to my own thoughts." Somewhat +relieved, Madame is roused from her reverie by a gentle tap at the door. +"I have waited your coming, and am glad to see you," she says, extending +her hand, as a servant, in response to her command, ushers into her +presence no less a person than Tom Swiggs. "I have sent for you," she +resumes, motioning him gracefully to a chair, in which she begs he will +be seated, "because I feel I can confide in you--" + +"Anything in my power is at your service, Madame," modestly interposes +Tom, regaining confidence. + +"I entrusted something of much importance to me, to Mr. Snivel--" + +"We call him the Hon. Mr. Snivel now, since he has got to be a great +politician," interrupts Tom. + +"And he not only betrayed my Confidence," pursues Madame Montford, "but +retains the amount I paid him, and forgets to render the promised +service. You, I am told, can render me a service--" + +"As for Mr. Snivel," pursues Tom, hastily, "he has of late had his hands +full, getting a poor but good-natured fellow, by the name of George +Mullholland, into trouble. His friend, Judge Sleepyhorn, and he, have +for some time had a plot on hand to crush this poor fellow. A few nights +ago Snivel drove him mad at a gambling den, and in his desperation he +robbed a man of his pocket-book. He shared the money with a poor woman +he rescued at the den, and that is the way it was discovered that he was +the criminal. He is a poor, thoughtless man, and he has been goaded on +from one thing to another, until he was driven to commit this act. +First, his wife was got away from him--" Tom pauses and blushes, as +Madame Montford says: "His wife was got away from him?" + +"Yes, Madame," returns Tom, with an expression of sincerity, "The Judge +got her away from him; and this morning he was arraigned before that +same Judge for examination, and Mr. Snivel was a principal witness, and +there was enough found against him to commit him for trial at the +Sessions." Discovering that this information is exciting her emotions, +Tom pauses, and contemplates her with steady gaze. She desires he will +be her guide to the Poor-House, and there assist her in searching for +Mag Munday, whom, report says, is confined in a cell. Tom having +expressed his readiness to serve her, they are soon on their way to that +establishment. + +A low, squatty building, with a red, moss-covered roof, two lean +chimneys peeping out, the windows blockaded with dirt, and situated in +one of the by-lanes of the city, is our Poor-House, standing half hid +behind a crabbed old wall, and looking very like a much-neglected +Quaker church in vegetation. We boast much of our institutions, and +this being a sample of them, we hold it in great reverence. You may say +that nothing so forcibly illustrates a state of society as the character +of its institutions for the care of those unfortunate beings whom a +capricious nature has deprived of their reason. We agree with you. We +see our Poor-House crumbling to the ground with decay, yet imagine it, +or affect to imagine it, a very grand edifice, in every way suited to +the wants of such rough ends of humanity as are found in it. Like Satan, +we are brilliant believers in ourselves, not bad sophists, and +singularly clever in finding apologies for all great crimes. + +At the door of the Poor-House stands a dilapidated hearse, to which an +old gray horse is attached. A number of buzzards have gathered about +him, turn their heads suspiciously now and then, and seem meditating a +descent upon his bones at no very distant day. Madame casts a glance at +the hearse, and the poor old horse, and the cawing buzzards, then +follows Tom, timidly, to the door. He has rung the bell, and soon there +stands before them, in the damp doorway, a fussy old man, with a very +broad, red face, and a very blunt nose, and two very dull, gray eyes, +which he fortifies with a fair of massive-framed spectacles, that have a +passion for getting upon the tip-end of his broad blunt nose. + +"There, you want to see somebody! Always somebody wanted to be seen, +when we have dead folks to get rid of," mutters the old man, +querulously, then looking inquiringly at the visitors. Tom says they +would like to go over the premises. "Yes--know you would. Ain't so dull +but I can see what folks want when they look in here." The old man, his +countenance wearing an expression of stupidity, runs his dingy fingers +over the crown of his bald head, and seems questioning within himself +whether to admit them. "I'm not in a very good humor to-day," he rather +growls than speaks, "but you can come in--I'm of a good family--and I'll +call Glentworthy. I'm old--I can't get about much. We'll all get old." +The building seems in a very bad temper generally. + +Mr. Glentworthy is called. Mr. Glentworthy, with a profane expletive, +pops his head out at the top of the stairs, and inquires who wants him. +The visitors have advanced into a little, narrow passage, lumbered with +all sorts of rubbish, and swarming with flies. Mr. Saddlerock (for this +is the old man's name) seems in a declining mood, the building seems in +a declining mood, Mr. Glentworthy seems in a declining mood--everything +you look at seems in a declining mood. "As if I hadn't enough to do, +gettin' off this dead cribber!" interpolates Mr. Glentworthy, +withdrawing his wicked face, and taking himself back into a room on the +left. + +"He's not so bad a man, only it doesn't come out at first," pursues Mr. +Saddlerock, continuing to rub his head, and to fuss round on his toes. +His mind, Madame Montford verily believes stuck in a fog. "We must wait +a bit," says the old man, his face seeming to elongate. "You can look +about--there's not much to be seen, and what there is--well, it's not +the finest." Mr. Saddlerock shuffles his feet, and then shuffles himself +into a small side room. Through the building there breathes a warm, +sickly atmosphere; the effect has left its marks upon the sad, waning +countenances of its unfortunate inmates. + +Tom and Madame Montford set out to explore the establishment. They +enter room after room, find them small, dark, and filthy beyond +description. Some are crowded with half-naked, flabby females, whose +careworn faces, and well-starved aspect, tells a sorrowful tale of the +chivalry. An abundant supply of profane works, in yellow and red covers, +would indeed seem to have been substituted for food, which, to the shame +of our commissioners, be it said, is a scarce article here. Cooped up in +another little room, after the fashion of wild beasts in a cage, are +seven poor idiots, whose forlorn condition, sad, dull countenances, as +they sit round a table, staring vacantly at one another, like mummies in +contemplation, form a wild but singularly touching picture. Each +countenance pales before the seeming study of its opponent, until, +enraptured and amazed, they break out into a wild, hysterical laugh. And +thus, poisoned, starved, and left to die, does time with these poor +mortals fleet on. + +The visitors ascend to the second story. A shuffling of feet in a room +at the top of the stairs excites their curiosity. Mr. Glentworthy's +voice grates harshly on the ear, in language we cannot insert in this +history. "Our high families never look into low places--chance if the +commissioner has looked in here for years," says Tom, observing Madame +Montford protect her inhaling organs with her perfumed cambric. "There +is a principle of economy carried out--and a very nice principle, too, +in getting these poor out of the world as quick as possible." Tom pushes +open a door, and, heavens! what a sight is here. He stands aghast in the +doorway--Madam, on tip-toe, peers anxiously in over his shoulders. Mr. +Glentworthy and two negroes--the former slightly inebriated, the latter +trembling of fright--are preparing to box up a lifeless mass, lying +carelessly upon the floor. The distorted features, the profusion of +long, red hair, curling over a scared face, and the stalworth figure, +shed some light upon the identity of the deceased. "Who is it?" +ejaculates Mr. Glentworthy, in response to an inquiry from Tom. Mr. +Glentworthy shrugs his shoulders, and commences whistling a tune. "That +cove!" he resumes, having stopped short in his tune, "a man what don't +know that cove, never had much to do with politics. Stuffed more ballot +boxes, cribbed more voters, and knocked down more slip-shod +citizens--that cove has, than, put 'em all together, would make a South +Carolina regiment. A mighty man among politicians, he was! Now the devil +has cribbed him--he'll know how good it is!" Mr. Glentworthy says this +with an air of superlative satisfaction, resuming his tune. The dead man +is Milman Mingle, the vote-cribber, who died of a wound he received at +the hands of an antagonist, whom he was endeavoring to "block out" while +going to the polls to cast his vote. "Big politician, but had no home!" +says Madame, with a sigh. + +Mr. Glentworthy soon had what remained of the vote-cribber--the man to +whom so many were indebted for their high offices--into a deal box, and +the deal box into the old hearse, and the old hearse, driven by a +mischievous negro, hastening to that great crib to which we must all go. +"Visitors," Mr. Glentworthy smiles, "must not question the way we do +business here, I get no pay, and there's only old Saddlerock and me to +do all the work. Old Saddlerock, you see, is a bit of a miser, and +having a large family of small Saddlerocks to provide for, scrapes what +he can into his own pocket. No one is the wiser. They can't be--they +never come in." Mr. Glentworthy, in reply to a question from Madame +Montford, says Mag Munday (he has some faint recollection of her) was +twice in the house, which he dignifies with the title of "Institution." +She never was in the "mad cells"--to his recollection. "Them what get +there, mostly die there." A gift of two dollars secures Mr. +Glentworthy's services, and restores him to perfect good nature. "You +will remember," says Tom, "that this woman ran neglected about the +streets, was much abused, and ended in becoming a maniac." Mr. +Glentworthy remembers very well, but adds: "We have so many maniacs on +our hands, that we can't distinctly remember them all. The clergymen +take good care never to look in here. They couldn't do any good if they +did, for nobody cares for the rubbish sent here; and if you tried to +Christianize them, you would only get laughed at. I don't like to be +laughed at. Munday's not here now, that's settled--but I'll--for +curiosity's sake--show you into the 'mad cells.'" Mr. Glentworthy leads +the way, down the rickety old stairs, through the lumbered passage, into +an open square, and from thence into a small out-building, at the +extreme end of which some dozen wet, slippery steps, led into a dark +subterranean passage, on each side of which are small, dungeon-like +cells. "Heavens!" exclaims Madame Montford, picking her way down the +steep, slippery steps. "How chilling! how tomb-like! Can it be that +mortals are confined here, and live?" she mutters, incoherently. The +stifling atmosphere is redolent of disease. + +"It straightens 'em down, sublimely--to put 'em in here," says Mr. +Glentworthy, laconically, lighting his lamp. "I hope to get old +Saddlerock in here. Give him such a mellowing!" He turns his light, and +the shadows play, spectre-like, along a low, wet aisle, hung on each +side with rusty bolts and locks, revealing the doors of cells. An +ominous stillness is broken by the dull clank of chains, the muttering +of voices, the shuffling of limbs; then a low wail breaks upon the ear, +and rises higher and higher, shriller and shriller, until in piercing +shrieks it chills the very heart. Now it ceases, and the echoes, like +the murmuring winds, die faintly away. "Look in here, now," says Mr. +Glentworthy--"a likely wench--once she was!" + +He swings open a door, and there issues from a cell about four feet six +inches wide, and nine long, the hideous countenance of a poor, mulatto +girl, whose shrunken body, skeleton-like arms, distended and glassy +eyes, tell but too forcibly her tale of sorrow. How vivid the picture of +wild idiocy is pictured in her sad, sorrowing face. No painter's touch +could have added a line more perfect. Now she rushes forward, with a +suddenness that makes Madame Montford shrink back, appalled--now she +fixes her eyes, hangs down her head, and gives vent to her tears. "My +soul is white--yes, yes, yes! I know it is white; God tells me it is +white--he knows--he never tortures. He doesn't keep me here to die--no, +I can't die here in the dark. I won't get to heaven if I do. Oh! yes, +yes, yes, I have a white soul, but my skin is not," she rather murmurs +than speaks, continuing to hold down her head, while parting her long, +clustering hair over her shoulders. Notwithstanding the spectacle of +horror presented in this living skeleton, there is something in her look +and action which bespeaks more the abuse of long confinement than the +result of natural aberration of mind. "She gets fierce now and then, +and yells," says the unmoved Glentworthy, "but she won't hurt ye--" + +[6]"How long," inquires Madame Montford, who has been questioning within +herself whether any act of her life could have brought a Human being +into such a place, "has she been confined here?" Mr. Glentworthy says +she tells her own tale. + +[Footnote 6: Can it be possible that such things as are here pictured +have an existence among a people laying any claim to a state of +civilization? the reader may ask. The author would here say that to the +end of fortifying himself against the charge of exaggeration, he +submitted the MS. of this chapter to a gentleman of the highest +respectability in Charleston, whose unqualified approval it received, as +well as enlisting his sympathies in behalf of the unfortunate lunatics +found in the cells described. Four years have passed since that time. He +subsequently sent the author the following, from the "Charleston +Courier," which speaks for itself. + + "FROM THE REPORTS OF COUNCIL. + "January 4th, 1843 + +"_The following communication was received from William M. Lawton, Esq., +Chairman of the Commissioners of the Poor-house._ + + "'Charleston, Dec. 17th, 1852. + "'To the Honorable, the City Council of Charleston: + +"'By a resolution of the Board of Commissioners of this City, I have +been instructed to communicate with your honorable body in relation to +the insane paupers now in Poor-house', (the insane in a poor-house!) +'and to request that you will adopt the necessary provision for sending +them to the Lunatic Asylum at Columbia. * * * * There are twelve on the +list, many of whom, it is feared, have already remained too long in an +institution quite unsuited to their unfortunate situation. + + "'With great respect, your very obedient servant, + "'(Signed) WM. M. LAWTON, + "'Chairman of the Board of Commissioners.'"] + +"Five years,--five years,--five long, long years, I have waited for him +in the dark, but he won't come," she lisps in a faltering voice, as her +emotions overwhelm her. Then crouching back upon the floor, she supports +her head pensively in her left hand, her elbow resting on her knee, and +her right hand poised against the brick wall, "Pencele!" says Mr. +Glentworthy, for such is the wretched woman's name, "cannot you sing a +song for your friends?" Turning aside to Madame Montford, he adds, "she +sings nicely. We shall soon get her out of the way--can't last much +longer." Mr. Glentworthy, drawing a small bottle from his pocket, places +it to his lips, saying he stole it from old Saddlerock, and gulps down a +portion of the contents. His breath is already redolent of whiskey. "Oh, +yes, yes, yes! I can sing for them, I can smother them with kisses. Good +faces seldom look in here, seldom look in here," she rises to her feet, +and extends her bony hand, as the tears steal down Madame Montford's +cheeks. Tom stands speechless. He wishes he had power to redress the +wrongs of this suffering maniac--his very soul fires up against the +coldness and apathy of a people who permit such outrages against +humanity. "There!--he comes! he comes! he comes!" the maniac speaks, +with faltering voice, then strikes up a plaintive air, which she sings +with a voice of much sweetness, to these words: + + When you find him, speed him to me, + And this heart will cease its bleeding, &c. + +The history of all this poor maniac's sufferings is told in a few simple +words that fall incautiously from Mr. Glentworthy's lips: "Poor fool, +she had only been married a couple of weeks, when they sold her husband +down South. She thinks if she keeps mad, he'll come back." + +There was something touching, something melancholy in the music of her +song, as its strains verberated and reverberated through the dread +vault, then, like the echo of a lover's lute on some Alpine hill, died +softly away. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII. + +IN WHICH THERE IS A SINGULAR REVELATION. + + +Madame Montford returns, unsuccessful, to her parlor. It is conscience +that unlocks the guilty heart, that forces mortals to seek relief where +there is no chance of finding it. It was this irresistible emotion that +found her counseling Tom Swiggs, making of him a confidant in her search +for the woman she felt could remove the doubt, in respect to Anna's +identity, that hung so painfully in her mind. And yet, such was her +position, hesitating as it were between her ambition to move in +fashionable society, and her anxiety to atone for a past error, that she +dare not disclose the secret of all her troubles even to him. She sought +him, not that he could soften her anxiety, but that being an humble +person, she could pursue her object through him, unobserved to +society--in a word, that he would be a protection against the +apprehensions of scandal-mongers. Such are the shifts to which the +ambitious guilty have recourse. What she has beheld in the poor-house, +too, only serves to quicken her thoughts of the misery she may have +inflicted upon others, and to stimulate her resolution to persevere in +her search for the woman. Conscious that wealth and luxury does not +always bring happiness, and that without a spotless character, woman is +but a feeble creature in this world, she would now sacrifice everything +else for that one ennobling charm. + +It may be proper here to add, that although Tom Swiggs could not enter +into the repentant woman's designs, having arranged with his employer to +sail for London in a few days, she learned of him something that +reflected a little more light in her path. And that was, that the woman +Anna Bonard, repined of her act in leaving George Mullholland, to whom +she was anxious to return--that she was now held against her will; that +she detested Judge Sleepyhorn, although he had provided lavishly for her +comfort. Anna knew George loved her, and that love, even to an abandoned +woman (if she could know it sincere), was dearer to her than all else. +She learned, too, that high up on Anna's right arm, there was imprinted +in blue and red ink, two hearts and a broken anchor. And this tended +further to increase her anxiety. And while evolving all these things in +her mind, and contemplating the next best course to pursue, her parlor +is invaded by Mr. Snivel. He is no longer Mr. Soloman, nor Mr. Snivel. +He is the Hon. Mr. Snivel. It is curious to contemplate the character of +the men to whose name we attach this mark of distinction. "I know you +will pardon my seeming neglect, Madame," he says, grasping her hand +warmly, as a smile of exultation lights up his countenance. "The fact +is, we public men are so absorbed in the affairs of the nation, that we +have scarce a thought to give to affairs of a private nature. We have +elected our ticket. I was determined it should be so, if Jericho fell. +And, more than all, I am made an honorable, by the popular sentiment of +the people--" + +"To be popular with the people, is truly an honor," interrupts the lady, +facetiously. + +"Thank you--O, thank you, for the compliment," pursues our hero. "Now, +as to this unfortunate person you seek, knowing it was of little use to +search for her in our institutions of charity--one never can find out +anything about the wretches who get into them--I put the matter into the +hands of one of our day-police--a plaguey sharp fellow--and he set about +scenting her out. I gave him a large sum, and promised him more if +successful. Here, then, after a long and tedious search--I have no doubt +the fellow earned his money--is what he got from New York, this +morning." The Hon. Mr. Snivel, fixing his eye steadily upon her, hands +her a letter which reads thus: + +"NEW YORK, _Dec. 14th, 18--_. + +"Last night, while making search after a habitant of the Points, a odd +old chip what has wandered about here for some years, some think he has +bin a better sort of man once, I struck across the woman you want. She +is somewhere tucked away in a Cow Bay garret, and is awful crazy; I'll +keep me eye out till somethin' further. If her friends wants to give her +a lift out of this place, they'd better come and see me at once. + + "Yours, as ever, + "M---- FITZGERALD." + +Mr. Snivel ogles Madame Montford over the page of a book he affects to +read. "Guilt! deep and strong," he says within himself, as Madame, with +flushed countenance and trembling hand, ponders and ponders over the +paper. Then her emotions quicken, her eyes exchange glances with Mr. +Snivel, and she whispers, with a sigh, "found--at last! And yet how +foolish of me to give way to my feelings? The affair, at best, is none +of mine." Mr. Snivel bows, and curls his Saxon mustache. "To do good +for others is the natural quality of a generous nature." + +Madame, somewhat relieved by this condescension of the Hon. gentleman, +says, in reply, "I am curious at solving family affairs." + +"And I!" says our hero, with refreshing coolness--"always ready to do a +bit of a good turn." + +Madame pauses, as if in doubt whether to proceed or qualify what she has +already said. "A relative, whose happiness I make my own," she resumes, +and again pauses, while the words tremble upon her lips. She hears the +words knelling in her ears: "A guilty conscience needs no betrayer." + +"You have," pursues our hero, "a certain clue; and of that I may +congratulate you." + +Madame says she will prepare at once to return to her home in New York, +and--and here again the words hang upon her lips. She was going to say, +her future proceedings would be governed by the paper she holds so +nervously in her finger. + +Snivel here receives a nostrum from the lady's purse. "Truly!--Madame," +he says, in taking leave of her, "the St. Cecilia will regret you--we +shall all regret you; you honored and graced our assemblies so. Our +first families will part with you reluctantly. It may, however, be some +satisfaction to know how many kind things will be said of you in your +absence." Mr. Snivel makes his last bow, a sarcastic smile playing over +his face, and pauses into the street. + +On the following day she encloses a present of fifty dollars to Tom +Swiggs, enjoins the necessity of his keeping her visit to the +poor-house a secret, and takes leave of Charleston. + +And here our scene changes, and we must transport the reader to New +York. It is the day following the night Mr. Detective Fitzgerald +discovered what remained of poor Toddleworth, in the garret of the House +of the Nine Nations. The City Hall clock strikes twelve. The goodly are +gathered into the House of the Foreign Missions, in which peace and +respectability would seem to preside. The good-natured fat man is in his +seat, pondering over letters lately received from the "dark regions" of +Arabia; the somewhat lean, but very respectable-looking Secretary, is +got nicely into his spectacles, and sits pondering over lusty folios of +reports from Hindostan, and various other fields of missionary labor, +all setting forth the various large amounts of money expended, how much +more could be expended, and what a blessing it is to be enabled to +announce the fact that there is now a hope of something being done. The +same anxious-faced bevy of females we described in a previous chapter, +are here, seated at a table, deeply interested in certain periodicals +and papers; while here and there about the room, are several +contemplative gentlemen in black. Brother Spyke, having deeply +interested Brothers Phills and Prim with an account of his visit to the +Bottomless Pit, paces up and down the room, thinking of Antioch, and the +evangelization of the heathen world. "Truly, brother," speaks the +good-natured fat man, "his coming seemeth long." "Eleven was the hour; +but why he tarryeth I know not," returns Brother Spyke, with calm +demeanor. "There is something more alarming in Sister Slocum's absence," +interposes one of the ladies. The house seems in a waiting mood, when +suddenly Mr. Detective Fitzgerald enters, and changes it to one of +anxiety. Several voices inquire if he was successful. He shakes his +head, and having recounted his adventures, the discovery of where the +money went to, and the utter hopelessness of an effort to recover it; +"as for the man, Toddleworth," he says, methodically, "he was found with +a broken skull. The Coroner has had an inquest over him; but murders are +so common. The verdict was, that he died of a broken skull, by the hands +of some one to the jury unknown. Suspicions were strong against one Tom +Downey, who is very like a heathen, and is mistrusted of several +murders. The affair disturbed the neighborhood a little, and the Coroner +tried to get something out concerning the man's history; but it all went +to the wind, for the people were all so ignorant. They all knew +everything about him, which turned out to be just nothing, which they +were ready to swear to. One believed Father Flaherty made the Bible, +another believed the Devil still chained in Columbia College--a third +believed the stars were lanterns to guide priests--the only angels they +know--on their way to heaven." + +"Truly!" exclaims the man of the spectacles, in a moment of abstraction. + +Brother Spyke says: "the Lord be merciful." + +"On the body of the poor man we found this document. It was rolled +carefully up in a rag, and is supposed to throw some light on his +history." Mr. Fitzgerald draws leisurely from his pocket a distained and +much-crumpled paper, written over in a bold, business-like hand, and +passes it to the man in the spectacle, as a dozen or more anxious faces +gather round, eager to explore the contents. + +"He went out of the Points as mysteriously as he came in. We buried him +a bit ago, and have got Downey in the Tombs: he'll be hanged, no doubt," +concludes the detective, laying aside his cap, and setting himself, +uninvited, into a chair. The man in the spectacles commences reading the +paper, which runs as follows: + +"I have been to you an unknown, and had died such an unknown, but that +my conscience tells me I have a duty to perform. I have wronged no one, +owe no one a penny, harbor no malice against any one; I am a victim of a +broken heart, and my own melancholy. Many years ago I pursued an +honorable business in this city, and was respected and esteemed. Many +knew me, and fortune seemed to shed upon me her smiles. I married a lady +of wealth and affluence, one I loved and doted on. Our affections seemed +formed for our bond; we lived for one another; our happiness seemed +complete. But alas! an evil hour came. Ambitious of admiration, she +gradually became a slave to fashionable society, and then gave herself +up to those flatterers who hang about it, and whose chief occupation it +is to make weak-minded women vain of their own charms. Coldness, and +indifference to home, soon followed. My house was invaded, my home--that +home I regarded so sacredly--became the resort of men in whose society I +found no pleasure, with whom I had no feeling in common. I could not +remonstrate, for that would have betrayed in me a want of confidence in +the fidelity of one I loved too blindly. I was not one of those who make +life miserable in seeing a little and suspecting much. No! I forgave +many things that wounded my feelings; and my love for her would not +permit a thought to invade the sanctity of her fidelity. Business +called me into a foreign country, where I remained several months, then +returned--not, alas! to a home made happy by the purity of one I +esteemed an angel;--not to the arms of a pure, fond wife, but to find my +confidence betrayed, my home invaded--she, in whom I had treasured up my +love, polluted; and slander, like a desert wind, pouring its desolating +breath into my very heart. In my blindness I would have forgiven her, +taken her back to my distracted bosom, and fled with her to some distant +land, there still to have lived and loved her. But she sought rather to +conceal her guilt than ask forgiveness. My reason fled me, my passion +rose above my judgment, I sank under the burden of my sorrow, attempted +to put an end to her life, and to my own misery. Failing in this, for my +hand was stayed by a voice I heard calling to me, I fled the country and +sought relief for my feelings in the wilds of Chili. I left nearly all +to my wife, took but little with me, for my object was to bury myself +from the world that had known me, and respected me. Destitution followed +me; whither I went there seemed no rest, no peace of mind for me. The +past floated uppermost in my mind. I was ever recurring to home, to +those with whom I had associated, to an hundred things that had endeared +me to my own country. Years passed--years of suffering and sorrow, and I +found myself a lone wanderer, without friend or money. During this time +it was reported at home, as well as chronicled in the newspapers, that I +was dead. The inventor of this report had ends, I will not name them +here, to serve. I was indeed dead to all who had known me happy in this +world. Disguised, a mere shadow of what I was once, I wandered back to +New York, heart-sick and discouraged, and buried myself among those +whose destitution, worse, perhaps, than my own, afforded me a means of +consolation. My life has long been a burden to me; I have many times +prayed God, in his mercy, to take me away, to close the account of my +misery. Do you ask my name? Ah! that is what pains me most. To live +unknown, a wretched outcast, in a city where I once enjoyed a name that +was respected, is what has haunted my thoughts, and tortured my +feelings. But I cannot withhold it, even though it has gone down, +tainted and dishonored. It is Henry Montford. And with this short record +I close my history, leaving the rest for those to search out who find +this paper, at my death, which cannot be long hence. + + "HENRY MONTFORD. + "_New York, Nov. --, 184-._" + +A few sighs follow the reading of the paper, but no very deep interest, +no very tender emotion, is awakened in the hearts of the goodly. +Nevertheless, it throws a flood of light upon the morals of a class of +society vulgarly termed fashionable. The meek females hold their tears +and shake their heads. Brother Spyke elongates his lean figure, draws +near, and says the whole thing is very unsatisfactory. Not one word is +let drop about the lost money. + +Brother Phills will say this--that the romance is very cleverly got up, +as the theatre people say. + +The good-natured fat man, breathing somewhat freer, says: "Truly! these +people have a pleasant way of passing out of the world. They die of +their artful practices--seeking to devour the good and the generous." + +"There's more suffers than imposes--an' there's more than's written +meant in that same bit of paper. Toddleworth was as inoffensive a +creature as you'd meet in a day. May God forgive him all his faults;" +interposes Mr. Detective Fitzgerald, gathering up his cap and passing +slowly out of the room. + +And this colloquy is put an end to by the sudden appearance of Sister +Slocum. A rustling silk dress, of quiet color, and set off with three +modest flounces; an India shawl, loosely thrown over her shoulders; a +dainty little collar, of honiton, drawn neatly about her neck, and a +bonnet of buff-colored silk, tastefully set off with tart-pie work +without, and lined with virtuous white satin within, so saucily poised +on her head, suggests the idea that she has an eye to fashion as well as +the heathen world. Her face, too, always so broad, bright, and +benevolent in its changes--is chastely framed in a crape border, so +nicely crimped, so nicely tucked under her benevolent chin at one end, +and so nicely pinned under the virtuous white lining at the other. +Goodness itself radiates from those large; earnest blue eyes, those +soft, white cheeks, that large forehead, with those dashes of silvery +hair crossing it so smoothly and so exactly--that well-developed, but +rather broad nose, and that mouth so expressive of gentleness. + +Sister Slocum, it requires no very acute observer to discover, has got +something more than the heathen world at heart, for all those soft, +congenial features are shadowed with sadness. Silently she takes her +seat, sits abstracted for a few minutes--the house is thrown into a +wondering mood--then looks wisely through her spectacles, and having +folded her hands with an air of great resignation, shakes, and shakes, +and shakes her head. Her eyes suddenly fill with tears, her thoughts +wander, or seem to wander, she attempts to speak, her voice chokes, and +the words hang upon her lips. All is consternation and excitement. +Anxious faces gather round, and whispering voices inquire the cause. The +lean man in the spectacles having applied his hartshorn bottle, Sister +Slocum, to the great joy of all present, is so far restored as to be +able to announce the singular, but no less melancholy fact, that our +dear guest, Sister Swiggs, has passed from this world to a better. She +retired full of sorrow, but came not in the morning. And this so +troubled Sister Scudder that there was no peace until she entered her +room. But she found the angel had been there before her, smoothed the +pillow of the stranger, and left her to sleep in death. On earth her +work was well done, and in the arms of the angel, her pure spirit now +beareth witness in heaven. Sister Slocum's emotions forbid her saying +more. She concludes, and buries her face in her cambric. Then an +outpouring of consoling words follow. "He cometh like a thief in the +night: His works are full of mystery; truly, He chasteneth; He giveth +and taketh away." Such are a few of the sentiments lisped, regrettingly, +for the departed. + +How vain are the hopes with which we build castles in the air; how +strange the motives that impel us to ill-advised acts. We leave +untouched the things that call loudest for our energies, and treasure up +our little that we may serve that which least concerns us. In this +instance it is seen how that which came of evil went in evil; how +disappointment stepped in and blew the castle down at a breath. + +There could not be a doubt that the disease of which Sister Smiggs +died, and which it is feared the State to which she belongs will one day +die, was little dignity. Leaving her then in the arms of the House of +the Foreign Mission, and her burial to the Secretary of the very +excellent "Tract Society" she struggled so faithfully to serve, we close +this chapter of events, the reader having, no doubt, discovered the +husband of Madame Montford in the wretched man, Mr. Toddleworth. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV. + +THE TWO PICTURES. + + +We come now to another stage of this history. Six months have glided +into the past since the events recorded in the foregoing chapter. The +political world of Charleston is resolved to remain in the Union a few +months longer. It is a pleasant evening in early May. The western sky is +golden with the setting sun, and the heavens are filled with battlements +of refulgent clouds, now softening away into night. Yonder to the East, +reposes a dark grove. A gentle breeze fans through its foliage, the +leaves laugh and whisper, the perfumes of flowers are diffusing through +the air birds make melodious with their songs, the trilling stream +mingles its murmurs, and nature would seem gathering her beauties into +one enchanting harmony. In the foreground of the grove, and looking as +if it borrowed solitude of the deep foliage, in which it is half buried, +rises a pretty villa, wherein may be seen, surrounded by luxuries the +common herd might well envy, the fair, the beautiful siren, Anna Bonard. +In the dingy little back parlor of the old antiquary, grim poverty +looking in through every crevasse, sits the artless and pure-minded +Maria McArthur. How different are the thoughts, the hopes, the emotions +of these two women. Comfort would seem smiling on the one, while +destitution threatens the other. To the eye that looks only upon the +surface, how deceptive is the picture. The one with every wish +gratified, an expression of sorrow shadowing her countenance, and that +freshness and sweetness for which she was distinguished passing away, +contemplates herself a submissive captive, at the mercy of one for whom +she has no love, whose gold she cannot inherit, and whose roof she must +some day leave for the street. The other feels poverty grasping at her, +but is proud in the possession of her virtue; and though trouble would +seem tracing its lines upon her features, her heart remains untouched by +remorse;--she is strong in the consciousness that when all else is gone, +her virtue will remain her beacon light to happiness. Anna, in the loss +of that virtue, sees herself shut out from that very world that points +her to the yawning chasm of her future; she feels how like a slave in +the hands of one whose heart is as cold as his smiles are false, she is. +Maria owes the world no hate, nor are her thoughts disturbed by such +contemplations. Anna, with embittered and remorseful feelings--with dark +and terrible passions agitating her bosom, looks back over her eventful +life, to a period when even her own history is shut to her, only to find +the tortures of her soul heightened. Maria looks back upon a life of +fond attachment to her father, to her humble efforts to serve others, +and to know that she has borne with Christian fortitude those ills which +are incident to humble life. With her, an emotion of joy repays the +contemplation. To Anna, the future is hung in dark forebodings. She +recalls to mind the interview with Madame Montford, but that only tends +to deepen the storm of anguish the contemplation of her parentage +naturally gives rise to. With Maria, the present hangs dark and the +future brightens. She thinks of the absent one she loves--of how she can +best serve her aged father, and how she can make their little home +cheerful until the return of Tom Swiggs, who is gone abroad. It must be +here disclosed that the old man had joined their hands, and invoked a +blessing on their heads, ere Tom took his departure. Maria looks forward +to the day of his return with joyous emotions. That return is the day +dream of her heart; in it she sees her future brightening. Such are the +cherished thoughts of a pure mind. Poverty may gnaw away at the +hearthstone, cares and sorrow may fall thick in your path, the rich may +frown upon you, and the vicious sport with your misfortunes, but virtue +gives you power to overcome them all. In Maria's ear something whispers: +Woman! hold fast to thy virtue, for if once it go neither gold nor false +tongues can buy it back. + +Anna sees the companion of her early life, and the sharer of her +sufferings, shut up in a prison, a robber, doomed to the lash. "He was +sincere to me, and my only true friend--am I the cause of this?" she +muses. Her heart answers, and her bosom fills with dark and stormy +emotions. One small boon is now all she asks. She could bow down and +worship before the throne of virgin innocence, for now its worth towers, +majestic, before her. It discovers to her the falsity of her day-dream; +it tells her what an empty vessel is this life of ours without it. She +knows George Mullholland loves her passionately; she knows how deep will +be his grief, how revengeful his feelings. It is poverty that fastens +the poison in the heart of the rejected lover. The thought of this +flashes through her mind. His hopeless condition, crushed out as it were +to gratify him in whose company her pleasures are but transitory, and +may any day end, darkens as she contemplates it. How can she acquit her +conscience of having deliberately and faithlessly renounced one who was +so true to her? She repines, her womanly nature revolts at the +thought--the destiny her superstition pictured so dark and terrible, +stares her in the face. She resolves a plan for his release, and, +relieved with a hope that she can accomplish it while propitiating the +friendship of the Judge, the next day seeks him in his prison cell, and +with all that vehemence woman, in the outpouring of her generous +impulses, can call to her aid, implores his forgiveness. But the rust of +disappointment has dried up his better nature; his heart is wrung with +the shafts of ingratitude--all the fierce passions of his nature, hate, +scorn and revenge, rise up in the one stormy outburst of his soul. He +casts upon her a look of withering scorn, the past of that life so +chequered flashes vividly through his thoughts, his hate deepens, he +hurls her from him, invokes a curse upon her head, and shuts her from +his sight. "Mine will be the retribution!" he says, knitting his dark +brow. + +How is it with the Judge--that high functionary who provides thus +sumptuously for his mistress? His morals, like his judgments, are +excused, in the cheap quality of our social morality. + +Such is gilded vice; such is humble virtue. + +A few days more and the term of the Sessions commences. George is +arraigned, and the honorable Mr. Snivel, who laid the plot, and +furthered the crime, now appears as a principal witness. He procures the +man's conviction, and listens with guilty heart to the sentence, for he +is rearraigned on sentence day, and Mr. Snivel is present. And while +the culprit is sentenced to two years imprisonment, and to receive +eighty lashes, laid on his bare back, while at the public whipping-post, +at four stated times, the man who stimulated the hand of the criminal, +is honored and flattered by society. Such is the majesty of the law. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV. + +IN WHICH A LITTLE LIGHT IS SHED UPON THE CHARACTER OF OUR CHIVALRY. + + +Mr. McArthur has jogged on, in the good old way but his worldly store +seems not to increase. The time, nevertheless, is arrived when he is +expected to return the little amount borrowed of Keepum, through the +agency of Mr. Snivel. Again and again has he been notified that he must +pay or go to that place in which we lock up all our very estimable +"first families," whose money has taken wings and flown away. Not +content with this, the two worthy gentlemen have more than once invaded +the Antiquary's back parlor, and offered, as we have described in a +former chapter, improper advances to his daughter. + +Mr. Keepum, dressed in a flashy coat, his sharp, mercenary face, hectic +of night revels, and his small but wicked eyes wandering over Mr. +McArthur's stock in trade, is seen in pursuit of his darling object. "I +don't mind so much about the pay, old man! I'm up well in the world. The +fact is, I am esteemed--and I am!--a public benefactor. I never forget +how much we owe to the chivalric spirit of our ancestors, and in dealing +with the poor--money matters and politics are different from anything +else--I am too generous. I don't mind my own interests enough. There it +is!" Mr. Keepum says this with an evident relief to himself. Indeed it +must here be acknowledged that this very excellent member of the St. +Cecilia Society, and profound dealer in lottery tickets, like our fine +gentlemen who are so scrupulous of their chivalry while stabbing men +behind their backs, fancies himself one of the most disinterested beings +known to generous nature. + +Bent and tottering, the old man recounts the value of his curiosities; +which, like our chivalry, is much talked of but hard to get at. He +offers in apology for the nonpayment of the debt his knowledge of the +old continentals, just as we offer our chivalry in excuse for every +disgraceful act--every savage law. In fine, he follows the maxims of our +politicians, recapitulating a dozen or more things (wiping the sweat +from his brow the while) that have no earthly connection with the +subject. "They are all very well," Mr. Keepum rejoins, with an air of +self-importance, dusting the ashes from his cigar. He only wishes to +impress the old man with the fact that he is his very best friend. + +And having somewhat relieved the Antiquary's mind of its apprehensions, +for McArthur stood in great fear of duns, Mr. Keepum pops, uninvited, +into the "back parlor," where he has not long been when Maria's screams +for assistance break forth. + +"Ah! I am old--there is not much left me now. Yes, I am old, my +infirmities are upon me. Pray, good man, spare me my daughter. Nay, you +must not break the peace of my house;" mutters the old man, advancing +into the room, with infirm step, and looking wistfully at his daughter, +as if eager to clasp her in his arms. Maria stands in a defiant +attitude, her left hand poised on a chair, and her right pointing +scornfully in the face of Keepum, who recoils under the look of +withering scorn that darkens her countenance. "A gentleman! begone, +knave! for your looks betray you. You cannot buy my ruin with your gold; +you cannot deceive me with your false tongue. If hate were a noble +passion, I would not vent that which now agitates my bosom on you. Nay, +I would reserve it for a better purpose--" + +"Indeed, indeed--now I say honestly, your daughter mistakes me. I was +only being a little friendly to her," interrupts the chopfallen man. He +did not think her capable of summoning so much passion to her aid. + +Maria, it must be said, was one of those seemingly calm natures in which +resentment takes deepest root, in which the passions are most violent +when roused. Solitude does, indeed, tend to invest the passionate nature +with a calm surface. A less penetrating observer than the chivalrous +Keepum, might have discovered in Maria a spirit he could not so easily +humble to his uses. It is the modest, thoughtful woman, you cannot make +lick the dust in sorrow and tears. "Coward! you laid ruffian hands on +me!" says Maria, again towering to her height, and giving vent to her +feelings. + +"Madam, Madam," pursues Keepum, trembling and crouching, "you asperse my +honor,--my sacred honor, Madam. You see--let me say a word, now--you are +letting your temper get the better of you. I never, and the public know +I never did--I never did a dishonorable thing in my life." Turning to +the bewildered old man, he continues: "to be called a knave, and +upbraided in this manner by your daughter, when I have befriended you +all these days!" His wicked eyes fall guilty to the floor. + +"Out man!--out! Let your sense of right, if you have it, teach you what +is friendship. Know that, like mercy, it is not poured out with hands +reeking of female dishonor." + +Mr. Keepum, like many more of our very fine gentlemen, had so trained +his thoughts to look upon the poor as slaves created for a base use, +that he neither could bring his mind to believe in the existence of such +things as noble spirits under humble roofs, nor to imagine himself--even +while committing the grossest outrages--doing aught to sully the high +chivalric spirit he fancied he possessed. The old Antiquary, on the +other hand, was not a little surprised to find his daughter displaying +such extraordinary means of repulsing an enemy. + +Trembling, and childlike he stands, conscious of being in the grasp of a +knave, whose object was more the ruin of his daughter than the recovery +of a small amount of money, the tears glistening in his eyes, and the +finger of old age marked on his furrowed brow. + +"Father, father!" says Maria, and the words hang upon her quivering +lips, her face becomes pale as marble, her strength deserts her,--she +trembles from head to foot, and sinks upon the old man's bosom, +struggling to smother her sobs. Her passion has left her; her calmer +nature has risen up to rebuke it. The old man leads her tenderly to the +sofa, and there seeks to sooth her troubled spirit. + +"As if this hub bub was always to last!" a voice speaks suddenly. It is +the Hon. Mr. Snivel, who looks in at the eleventh hour, as he says, to +find affairs always in a fuss. "Being a man of legal knowledge--always +ready to do a bit of a good turn--especially in putting a disordered +house to rights--I thought it well to look in, having a leisure minute +or two (we have had a convention for dissolving the Union, and passed a +vote to that end!) to give to my old friends," Mr. Snivel says, in a +voice at once conciliating and insinuating. "I always think of a border +feud when I come here--things that find no favor with me." Mr. Snivel, +having first patted the old man on the shoulder, exchanges a significant +wink with his friend Keepum, and then bestows upon him what he is +pleased to call a little wholesome advice. "People misunderstand Mr. +Keepum," he says, "who is one of the most generous of men, but lacks +discretion, and in trying to be polite to everybody, lets his feelings +have too much latitude now and then." Maria buries her face in her +handkerchief, as if indifferent to the reconciliation offered. + +"Now let this all be forgotten--let friendship reign among friends: +that's my motto. But! I say,--this is a bad piece of news we have this +morning. Clipped this from an English paper," resumes the Hon. +gentleman, drawing coolly from his pocket a bit of paper, having the +appearance of an extract. + +"You are never without some kind of news--mostly bad!" says Keepum, +flinging himself into a chair, with an air of restored confidence. Mr. +Snivel bows, thanks the gentleman for the compliment, and commences to +read. "This news," he adds, "may be relied upon, having come from +Lloyd's List: 'Intelligence was received here (this is, you must +remember, from a London paper, he says, in parentheses) this morning, of +the total loss of the American ship ----, bound from this port for +Charleston, U.S., near the Needles. Every soul on board, except the +Captain and second mate, perished. The gale was one of the worst ever +known on this coast--'" + +"The worst ever known on this coast!" ejaculates Mr. Keepum, his wicked +eyes steadily fixed upon Maria. "One of Trueman's ships," Mr. Snivel +adds. "Unlucky fellow, that Trueman--second ship he has lost." + +"By-the-bye," rejoins Keepum, as if a thought has just flashed upon him, +"your old friend, Tom Swiggs, was supercargo, clerk, or whatever you may +call it, aboard that ship, eh?" + +It is the knave who can most naturally affect surprise and regret when +it suits his purposes, and Mr. Snivel is well learned in the art. +"True!" he says, "as I'm a Christian. Well, I had made a man of him--I +don't regret it, for I always liked him--and this is the end of the poor +fellow, eh?" Turning to McArthur, he adds, rather unconcernedly: "You +know somewhat of him?" The old man sits motionless beside his daughter, +the changes of whose countenance discover the inward emotions that +agitate her bosom. Her eyes fill with tears; she exchanges inquiring +glances, first with Keepum, then with Snivel; then a thought strikes her +that she received a letter from Tom, setting forth his prospects, and +his intention to return in the ship above named. It was very natural +that news thus artfully manufactured, and revealed with such apparent +truthfulness, should produce a deep impression in the mind of an +unsuspecting girl. Indeed, it was with some effort that she bore up +under it. Expressions of grief she would fain suppress before the enemy +gain a mastery over her--and ere they are gone the cup flows over, and +she sinks exhausted upon the sofa. + +"There! good as far as it goes. You have now another mode of gaining the +victory," Mr. Snivel whispers in the ear of his friend, Keepum; and the +two gentlemen pass into the street. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI. + +IN WHICH A LAW IS SEEN TO SERVE BASE PURPOSES. + + +Maria has passed a night of unhappiness. Hopes and fears are knelling in +the morning, which brings nothing to relieve her anxiety for the absent +one; and Mr. Snivel has taken the precaution to have the news of the +lost ship find its way into the papers. + +And while our city seems in a state of very general excitement; while +great placards on every street corner inform the wondering stranger that +a mighty Convention (presided over by the Hon. S. Snivel) for dissolving +the Union, is shortly to be holden; while our political world has got +the Union on its shoulders, and threatens to throw it into the nearest +ditch; while our streets swarm with long, lean, and very hairy-faced +delegates (all lusty of war and secession), who have dragged themselves +into the city to drink no end of whiskey, and say all sorts of foolish +things their savage and half-civilized constituents are expected to +applaud; while our more material and conservative citizens are thinking +what asses we make of ourselves; while the ship-of-war we built to fight +the rest of the Union, lies an ugly lump in the harbor, and "won't go +over the bar;" while the "shoe-factory" we established to supply +niggerdom with soles, is snuffed out for want of energy and capacity to +manage it; while some of our non-slaveholding, but most active secession +merchants, are moving seriously in the great project of establishing a +"SOUTHERN CANDLE-FACTORY"--a thing much needed in the "up-country;" +while our graver statesmen (who don't get the State out of the Union +fast enough for the ignorant rabble, who have nothing but their folly at +stake) are pondering over the policy of spending five hundred thousand +dollars for the building of another war-ship--one that "will go over the +bar;" and while curiously-written letters from Generals Commander and +Quattlebum, offering to bring their allied forces into the field--to +blow this confederation down at a breath whenever called upon, are being +published, to the great joy of all secessiondom; while saltpetre, +broadswords, and the muskets made for us by Yankees to fight Yankees, +and which were found to have wood instead of flint in their hammers, +(and which trick of the Yankees we said was just like the Yankees,) are +in great demand--and a few of our mob-politicians, who are all "Kern'ls" +of regiments that never muster, prove conclusively our necessity for +keeping a fighting-man in Congress; while, we assert, many of our first +and best known families have sunk the assemblies of the St. Cecilia in +the more important question of what order of government will best +suit--in the event of our getting happily out of the Union!--our refined +and very exacting state of society;--whether an Empire or a Monarchy, +and whether we ought to set up a Quattlebum or Commander +dynasty?--whether the Bungle family or the Jungle family (both fighting +families) will have a place nearest the throne; what sort of orders will +be bestowed, who will get them, and what colored liveries will best +become us (all of which grave questions threaten us with a very +extensive war of families)?--while all these great matters find us in a +sea of trouble, there enters the curiosity-shop of the old Antiquary a +suspicious-looking individual in green spectacles. + +"Mr. Hardscrabble!" says the man, bowing and taking a seat, leisurely, +upon the decrepit sofa. Mr. McArthur returns his salutation, +contemplates him doubtingly for a minute, then resumes his fussing and +brushing. + +The small, lean figure; the somewhat seedy broadcloth in which it is +enveloped; the well-browned and very sharp features; the straight, +dark-gray hair, and the absent manner of Mr. Hardscrabble, might, with +the uninitiated, cause him to be mistaken for an "up-country" clergyman +of the Methodist denomination. + +"Mr. Hardscrabble? Mr. Hardscrabble? Mr. Hardscrabble?" muses the +Antiquary, canting his head wisely, "the Sheriff, as I'm a man of +years!" + +Mr. Hardscrabble comforts his eyes with his spectacles, and having +glanced vacantly over the little shop, as if to take an inventory of its +contents, draws from his breast-pocket a paper containing very ominous +seals and scrawls. + +"I'm reluctant about doing these things with an old man like you," Mr. +Hardscrabble condescends to say, in a sharp, grating voice; "but I have +to obey the demands of my office." Here he commences reading the paper +to the trembling old man, who, having adjusted his broad-bowed +spectacles, and arrayed them against the spectacles of Mr. Hardscrabble, +says he thinks it contains a great many useless recapitulations. + +Mr. Hardscrabble, his eyes peering eagerly through his glasses, and his +lower jaw falling and exposing the inner domain of his mouth, replies +with an--"Umph." The old Antiquary was never before called upon to +examine a document so confusing to his mind. Not content with a +surrender of his property, it demands his body into the bargain--all at +the suit of one Keepum. He makes several motions to go show it to his +daughter; but that, Mr. Hardscrabble thinks, is scarce worth while. "I +sympathize with you--knowing how frugal you have been through life. A +list of your effects--if you have one--will save a deal of trouble. I +fear (Mr. Hardscrabble works his quid) my costs will hardly come out of +them." + +"There's a fortune in them--if the love of things of yore--" The old man +hesitates, and shakes his head dolefully. + +"Yore!--a thing that would starve out our profession." + +"A little time to turn, you know. There's my stock of uniforms." + +"Well--I--know," Mr. Hardscrabble rejoins, with a drawl; "but I must +lock up the traps. Yes, I must lock you up, and sell you out--unless you +redeem before sale day; that you can't do, I suppose?" + +And while the old man totters into the little back parlor, and, giving +way to his emotions, throws himself upon the bosom of his fond daughter, +to whom he discloses his troubles, Mr. Hardscrabble puts locks and bolts +upon his curiosity-shop. This important business done, he leads the old +man away, and gives him a lodging in the old jail. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII. + +A SHORT CHAPTER OF ORDINARY EVENTS. + + +To bear up against the malice of inexorable enemies is at once the gift +and the shield of a noble nature. And here it will be enough to say, +that Maria bore the burden of her ills with fortitude and resignation, +trusting in Him who rights the wronged, to be her deliverer. What took +place when she saw her aged father led away, a prisoner; what thoughts +invaded that father's mind when the prison bolt grated on his ear, and +he found himself shut from all that had been dear to him through life, +regard for the feelings of the reader forbids us recounting here. + +Naturally intelligent, Maria had, by close application to books, +acquired some knowledge of the world. Nor was she entirely ignorant of +those arts designing men call to their aid when seeking to effect the +ruin of the unwary female. Thus fortified, she fancied she saw in the +story of the lost ship a plot against herself, while the persecution of +her father was only a means to effect the object. Launched between hope +and fear, then--hope that her lover still lived, and that with his +return her day would brighten--fear lest the report might be founded in +truth, she nerves herself for the struggle. She knew full well that to +give up in despair--to cast herself upon the cold charities of a busy +world, would only be to hasten her downfall. Indeed, she had already +felt how cold, and how far apart were the lines that separated our rich +from our poor. + +The little back parlor is yet spared to Maria, and in it she may now be +seen plying at her needle, early and late. It is the only means left her +of succoring the parent from whom she has been so ruthlessly separated. +Hoping, fearing, bright to-day and dark to-morrow, willing to work and +wait--here she sits. A few days pass, and the odds and ends of the +Antiquary's little shop, like the "shirts" of the gallant Fremont, whom +we oppressed while poor, and essayed to flatter when a hero, are +gazetted under the head of "sheriff's sale." Hope, alas! brings no +comfort to Maria. Time rolls on, the month's rent falls due, her father +pines and sinks in confinement, and her needle is found inadequate to +the task undertaken. Necessity demands, and one by one she parts with +her few cherished mementos of the past, that she may save an aged father +from starvation. + +The "prisoner" has given notice that he will take the benefit of the +act--commonly called "an act for the relief of poor debtors." But before +he can reach this boon, ten days must elapse. Generous-minded +legislators, no doubt, intended well when they constructed this act, but +so complex are its provisions that any legal gentleman may make it a +very convenient means of oppression. And in a community where laws not +only have their origin in the passions of men, but are made to serve +popular prejudices--where the quality of justice obtained depends upon +the position and sentiments of him who seeks it,--the weak have no +chance against the powerful. + +The multiplicity of notices, citations, and schedules, necessary to the +setting free of this "poor debtor" (for these fussy officials must be +paid), Maria finds making a heavy drain on her lean purse. + +The Court is in session, and the ten days having glided away, the old +man is brought into "open Court" by two officials with long tipstaffs, +and faces looking as if they had been carefully pickled in strong +drinks. "Surely, now, they'll set me free--I can give them no more--I am +old and infirm--they have got all--and my daughter!" he muses within +himself. Ah! he little knows how uncertain a thing is the law. + +The Judge is engaged over a case in which two very fine old families are +disputing for the blood and bones of a little "nigger" girl. The +possession of this helpless slave, the Judge (he sits in easy dignity) +very naturally regards of superior importance when compared with the +freedom of a "poor debtor." He cannot listen to the story of +destitution--precisely what was sought by Keepum--to-day, and to-morrow +the Court adjourns for six months. + +The Antiquary is remanded back to his cell. No one in Court cares for +him; no one has a thought for the achings of that heart his release +would unburden; the sorrows of that lone girl are known only to herself +and the One in whom she puts her trust. She, nevertheless, seeks the old +man in his prison, and there comforts him as best she can. + +Five days more, and the "prisoner" is brought before the Commissioner +for Special Bail, who is no less a personage than the rosy-faced Clerk +of the Court, just adjourned. And here we cannot forbear to say, that +however despicable the object sought, however barren of right the plea, +however adverse to common humanity the spirit of the action, there is +always to be found some legal gentleman, true to the lower instincts of +the profession, ready to lend himself to his client's motives. And in +this instance, the cunning Keepum finds an excellent instrument of +furthering his ends, in one Peter Crimpton, a somewhat faded and rather +disreputable member of the learned profession. It is said of Crimpton, +that he is clever at managing cases where oppression rather than justice +is sought, and that his present client furnishes the larger half of his +practice. + +And while Maria, too sensitive to face the gaze of the coarse crowd, +pauses without, silent and anxious, listening one moment and hoping the +next will see her old father restored to her, the adroit Crimpton rises +to object to "the Schedule." To the end that he may substantiate his +objections, he proposes to examine the prisoner. Having no alternative, +the Commissioner grants the request. + +The old Antiquary made out his schedule with the aid of the good-hearted +jailer, who inserted as his effects, "_Necessary wearing apparel_." It +was all he had. Like the gallant Fremont, when he offered to resign his +shirts to his chivalric creditor, he could give them no more. A few +questions are put; the old man answers them with childlike simplicity, +then sits down, his trembling fingers wandering into his beard. Mr. +Crimpton produces his paper, sets forth his objections, and asks +permission to file them, that the case may come before a jury of +"Special Bail." + +Permission is granted. The reader will not fail to discover the object +of this procedure. Keepum hopes to continue the old man in prison, that +he may succeed in breaking down the proud spirit of his daughter. + +The Commissioner listens attentively to the reading of the objections. +The first sets forth that Mr. McArthur has a gold watch;[7] the second, +that he has a valuable breastpin, said to have been worn by Lord +Cornwallis; and the third, that he has one Yorick's skull. All of these, +Mr. Crimpton regrets to say, are withheld from the schedule, which +virtually constitutes fraud. The facile Commissioner bows; the assembled +crowd look on unmoved; but the old man shakes his head and listens. He +is surprised to find himself accused of fraud; but the law gives him no +power to show his own innocence. The Judge of the Sessions was competent +to decide the question now raised, and to have prevented this reverting +to a "special jury"--this giving the vindictive plaintiff a means of +torturing his infirm victim. Had he but listened to the old man's tale +of poverty, he might have saved the heart of that forlorn girl many a +bitter pang. + +[Footnote 7: Our Charleston readers will recognize the case here +described, without any further key.] + +The motion granted, a day is appointed--ten days must elapse--for a +hearing before the Commissioner of "Special Bail," and his special jury. +The rosy-faced functionary, being a jolly and somewhat flexible sort of +man, must needs give his health an airing in the country. What is the +liberty of a poor white with us? Our Governor, whom we esteem singularly +sagacious, said it were better all our poor were enslaved, and this +opinion finds high favor with our first families. The worthy +Commissioner, in addition to taking care of his health, is expected to +make any number of speeches, full of wind and war, to several recently +called Secession Conventions. He will find time (being a General by +courtesy) to review the up-country militia, and the right and left +divisions of the South Carolina army. He will be feted by some few of +our most distinguished Generals, and lecture before the people of +Beaufort (a very noisy town of forty-two inhabitants, all heroes), to +whom he will prove the necessity of our State providing itself with an +independent steam navy. + +The old Antiquary is remanded back to jail--to wait the coming day. +Maria, almost breathless with anxiety, runs to him as he comes tottering +out of Court in advance of the official, lays her trembling hand upon +his arm, and looks inquiringly in his face. "Oh! my father, my +father!--released? released?" she inquires, with quivering lips and +throbbing heart. A forced smile plays over his time-worn face, he looks +upward, shakes his head in sorrow, and having patted her affectionately +on the shoulder, throws his arms about her neck and kisses her. That +mute appeal, that melancholy voucher of his sorrows, knells the painful +answer in her ears, "Then you are not free to come with me? Oh, father, +father!" and she wrings her hands and gives vent to her tears. + +"The time will come, my daughter, when my Judge will hear me--will judge +me right. My time will come soon--" And here the old man pauses, and +chokes with his emotions. Maria returns the old man's kiss, and being +satisfied that he is yet in the hands of his oppressors, sets about +cheering up his drooping spirits. "Don't think of me, father," she +says--"don't think of me! Let us put our trust in Him who can shorten +the days of our tribulation." She takes the old man's arm, and like one +who would forget her own troubles in her anxiety to relieve another, +supports him on his way back to prison. + +It is high noon. She stands before the prison gate, now glancing at the +serene sky, then at the cold, frowning walls, and again at the old pile, +as if contemplating the wearying hours he must pass within it. "Don't +repine--nerve yourself with resolution, and all will be well!" Having +said this with an air of confidence in herself, she throws her arms +about the old man's neck, presses him to her bosom, kisses and kisses +his wrinkled cheek, then grasps his hand warmly in her own. "Forget +those who persecute you, for it is good. Look above, father--to Him who +tempers the winds, who watches over the weak, and gives the victory to +the right!" She pauses, as the old man holds her hand in silence. "This +life is but a transient sojourn at best; full of hopes and fears, that, +like a soldier's dream, pass away when the battle is ended." Again she +fondly shakes his hand, lisps a sorrowing "good-bye," watches him, in +silence, out of sight, then turns away in tears, and seeks her home. +There is something so pure, so earnest in her solicitude for the old +man, that it seems more of heaven than earth. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII. + +A STORY WITHOUT WHICH THIS HISTORY WOULD BE FOUND WANTING. + + +On taking leave of her father, Maria, her heart overburdened with grief, +and her mind abstracted, turned towards the Battery, and continued, +slowly and sadly, until she found herself seated beneath a tree, looking +out upon the calm bay. Here, scarce conscious of those who were +observing her in their sallies, she mused until dusky evening, when the +air seemed hushed, and the busy hum of day was dying away in the +distance. The dark woodland on the opposite bank gave a bold border to +the soft picture; the ships rode sluggishly upon the polished waters; +the negro's touching song echoed and re-echoed along the shore; and the +boatman's chorus broke upon the stilly air in strains so dulcet. And as +the mellow shadows of night stole over the scene--as the heavens looked +down in all their sereneness, and the stars shone out, and twinkled, and +laughed, and danced upon the blue waters, and coquetted with the +moonbeams--for the moon was up, and shedding a halo of mystic light over +the scene--making night merry, nature seemed speaking to Maria in words +of condolence. Her heart was touched, her spirits gained strength, her +soul seemed in a loftier and purer atmosphere. + +"Poor, but virtuous--virtue ennobles the poor. Once gone, the world +never gives it back!" she muses, and is awakened from her reverie by a +sweet, sympathizing voice, whispering in her ear. "Woman! you are in +trouble,--linger no longer here, or you will fall into the hands of your +enemies." She looks up, and there stands at her side a young female, +whose beauty the angels might envy. The figure came upon her so suddenly +that she hesitates for a reply to the admonition. + +"Take this, it will do something toward relieving your wants (do not +open it now), and with this (she places a stiletto in her hand) you can +strike down the one who attempts your virtue. Nay, remember that while +you cling to that, you are safe--lose it, and you are gone forever. Your +troubles will soon end; mine are for a life-time. Yours find a +relaxation in your innocence; mine is seared into my heart with my own +shame. It is guilt--shame! that infuses into the heart that poison, for +which years of rectitude afford no antidote. Go quickly--get from this +lone place! You are richer than me." She slips something into Maria's +hand, and suddenly disappears. + +Maria rises from her seat, intending to follow the stranger, but she is +out of sight. Who can this mysterious messenger, this beautiful stranger +be? Maria muses. A thought flashes across her mind; it is she who sought +our house at midnight, when my father revealed her dark future! "Yes," +she says to herself, "it is the same lovely face; how oft it has flitted +in my fancy!" + +She reaches her home only to find its doors closed against her. A +ruthless landlord has taken her all, and forced her into the street. + +You may shut out the sterner sex without involving character or inviting +insult; but with woman the case is very different. However pure her +character, to turn her into the street, is to subject her to a stigma, +if not to fasten upon her a disgrace. You may paint, in your +imagination, the picture of a woman in distress, but you can know little +of the heart-achings of the sufferer. The surface only reflects the +faint gleams, standing out here and there like the lesser objects upon a +dark canvas. + +Maria turns reluctantly from that home of so many happy associations, to +wander about the streets and by-ways of the city. The houses of the rich +seem frowning upon her; her timid nature tells her they have no doors +open to her. The haunts of the poor, at this moment, infuse a sanguine +joyousness into her soul. How glad would she be, if they did but open to +her. Is not the Allwise, through the beauties of His works, holding her +up, while man only is struggling to pull her down? + +And while Maria wanders homeless about the streets of Charleston, we +must beg you, gentle reader, to accompany us into one of the great +thoroughfares of London, where is being enacted a scene appertaining to +this history. + +It is well-nigh midnight, the hour when young London is most astir in +his favorite haunts; when ragged and well-starved flower-girls, issuing +from no one knows where, beset your path through Trafalgar and Liecester +squares, and pierce your heart with their pleadings; when the Casinoes +of the Haymarket and Picadilly are vomiting into the streets their frail +but richly-dressed women; when gaudy supper-rooms, reeking of lobster +and bad liquor, are made noisy with the demands of their +flauntily-dressed customers; when little girls of thirteen are dodging +in and out of mysterious courts and passages leading to and from +Liecester square; when wily cabmen, ranged around the "great globe," +importune you for a last fare; and when the aristocratic swell, with +hectic face and maudlin laugh, saunters from his club-room to seek +excitement in the revels at Vauxhall. + +A brown mist hangs over the dull area of Trafalgar square. The bells of +old St. Martin's church have chimed merrily out their last night peal; +the sharp voice of the omnibus conductor no longer offends the ear; the +tiny little fountains have ceased to give out their green water; and the +lights of the Union Club on one side, and Morley's hotel on the other, +throw pale shadows into the open square. + +The solitary figure of a man, dressed in the garb of a gentleman, is +seen sauntering past Northumberland house, then up the east side of the +square. Now he halts at the corner of old St. Martin's church, turns and +contemplates the scene before him. On his right is that squatty mass of +freestone and smoke, Englishmen exultingly call the Royal Academy, but +which Frenchmen affect contempt for, and uninitiated Americans mistake +for a tomb. An equestrian statue of one of the Georges rises at the east +corner; Morley's Hotel, where Americans get poor fare and enormous +charges, with the privilege of fancying themselves quite as good as the +queen, on the left; the dead walls of Northumberland House, with their +prisonlike aspect, and the mounted lion, his tail high in air, and quite +as rigid as the Duke's dignity, in front; the opening that terminates +the Strand, and gives place to Parliament street, at the head of which +an equestrian statue of Charles the First, much admired by Englishmen, +stands, his back on Westminster; the dingy shops of Spring Garden, and +the Union Club to the right; and, towering high over all, Nelson's +Column, the statue looking as if it had turned its back in pity on the +little fountains, to look with contempt, first upon the bronze face of +the unfortunate Charles, then upon Parliament, whose parsimony in +withholding justice from his daughter, he would rebuke--and the picture +is complete. + +The stranger turns, walks slowly past the steps of St. Martin's church, +crosses to the opposite side of the street, and enters a narrow, wet, +and dimly-lighted court, on the left. Having passed up a few paces, he +finds himself hemmed in between the dead walls of St. Martin's +"Work-house" on one side, and the Royal Academy on the other. He +hesitates between fear and curiosity. The dull, sombre aspect of the +court is indeed enough to excite the fears of the timid; but curiosity +being the stronger impulse, he proceeds, resolved to explore it--to see +whence it leads. + +A short turn to the right, and he has reached the front wall of the +Queen's Barracks, on his left, and the entrance to the "Work-house," on +his right; the one overlooking the other, and separated by a narrow +street. Leave men are seen reluctantly returning in at the night-gate; +the dull tramp of the sentinel within sounds ominously on the still air; +and the chilly atmosphere steals into the system. Again the stranger +pauses, as if questioning the safety of his position. Suddenly a low +moan grates upon his ear, he starts back, then listens. Again it rises, +in a sad wail, and pierces his very heart. His first thought is, that +some tortured mortal is bemoaning his bruises in a cell of the +"Work-house," which he mistakes for a prison. But his eyes fall to the +ground, and his apprehensions are dispelled. + +The doors of the "Work-house" are fast closed; but there, huddled along +the cold pavement, and lying crouched upon its doorsteps, in heaps that +resemble the gatherings of a rag-seller, are four-and-thirty shivering, +famishing, and homeless human beings--[8] (mostly young girls and aged +women), who have sought at this "institution of charity" shelter for the +night, and bread to appease their hunger.[9] Alas! its ruthless keepers +have refused them bread, shut them into the street, and left them in +rags scarce sufficient to cover their nakedness, to sleep upon the cold +stones, a mute but terrible rebuke to those hearts that bleed over the +sorrows of Africa, but have no blood to give out when the object of pity +is a poor, heart-sick girl, forced to make the cold pavement her bed. +The stranger shudders. "Are these heaps of human beings?" he questions +within himself, doubting the reality before him. As if counting and +hesitating what course to pursue for their relief, he paces up and down +the grotesque mass, touching one, and gazing upon the haggard features +of another, who looks up to see what it is that disturbs her. Again the +low moan breaks on his ear, as the sentinel cries the first hour of +morning. The figure of a female, her head resting on one of the steps, +moves, a trembling hand steals from under her shawl, makes an effort to +reach her head, and falls numb at her side. "Her hand is cold--her +breathing like one in death--oh! God!--how terrible--what, what am I to +do?" he says, taking the sufferer's hand in his own. Now he rubs it, now +raises her head, makes an effort to wake a few of the miserable +sleepers, and calls aloud for help. "Help! help! help!" he shouts, and +the shout re-echoes through the air and along the hollow court. "A woman +is dying,--dying here on the cold stones--with no one to raise a hand +for her!" He seizes the exhausted woman in his arms, and with herculean +strength rushes up the narrow street, in the hope of finding relief at +the Gin Palace he sees at its head, in a blaze of light. But the body is +seized with spasms, an hollow, hysteric wail follows, his strength gives +way under the burden, and he sets the sufferer down in the shadow of a +gas light. Her dress, although worn threadbare, still bears evidence of +having belonged to one who has enjoyed comfort, and, perhaps, luxury. +Indeed, there is something about the woman which bespeaks her not of the +class generally found sleeping on the steps of St. Martin's Work-house. + +[Footnote 8: An institution for the relief of the destitute.] + +[Footnote 9: This sight may be seen at any time.] + +"What's here to do?" gruffly inquires a policeman, coming up with an air +of indifference. The stranger says the woman is dying. The policeman +stoops down, lays his hand upon her temples, then mechanically feels her +arms and hands. + +"And I--must die--die--die in the street," whispers the woman, her head +falling carelessly from the policeman's hand, in which it had rested. + +"Got her a bit below, at the Work'ouse door, among them wot sleeps +there, eh?" + +The stranger says he did. + +"A common enough thing," pursues the policeman; "this a bad lot. Anyhow, +we must give her a tow to the station." He rubs his hands, and prepares +to raise her from the ground. + +"Hold! hold," interrupts the other, "she will die ere you get her +there." + +"Die,--ah! yes, yes," whispers the woman. The mention of death seems to +have wrung like poison into her very soul. "Don't--don't move me--the +spell is almost broken. Oh! how can I die here, a wretch. Yes, I am +going now--let me rest, rest, rest," the moaning supplicant mutters in a +guttural voice, grasps spasmodically at the policeman's hand, heaves a +deep sigh, and sets her eyes fixedly upon the stranger. She seems +recognizing in his features something that gives her strength. + +"There--there--there!" she continues, incoherently, as a fit of +hysterics seize upon her; "you, you, you, have--yes, you have come at +the last hour, when my sufferings close. I see devils all about +me--haunting me--torturing my very soul--burning me up! See them! see +them!--here they come--tearing, worrying me--in a cloud of flame!" She +clutches with her hands, her countenance fills with despair, and her +body writhes in agony. + +"Bring brandy! warm,--stimulant! anything to give her strength! Quick! +quick!--go fetch it, or she is gone!" stammers out the stranger. + +In another minute she calms away, and sinks exhausted upon the pavement. +Policeman shakes his head, and says, "It 'ont do no good--she's done +for." + +The light of the "Trumpeter's Arms" still blazes into the street, while +a few greasy ale-bibbers sit moody about the tap-room. + +The two men raise the exhausted woman from the ground and carry her to +the door. Mine host of the Trumpeter's Arms shrugs his shoulders and +says, "She can't come in here." He fears she will damage the +respectability of his house. "The Work-house is the place for her," he +continues, gruffly. + +A sight at the stranger's well-filled purse, however, and a few +shillings slipped into the host's hand, secures his generosity and the +woman's admittance. "Indeed," says the host, bowing most servilely, +"gentlemen, the whole Trumpeter's Arms is at your service." The woman is +carried into a lonely, little back room, and laid upon a cot, which, +with two wooden chairs, constitutes its furniture. And while the +policeman goes in search of medical aid, the host of the Trumpeter's +bestirs himself right manfully in the forthcoming of a stimulant. The +stranger, meanwhile, lends himself to the care of the forlorn sufferer +with the gentleness of a woman. He smoothes her pillow, arranges her +dress tenderly, and administers the stimulant with a hand accustomed to +the sick. + +A few minutes pass, and the woman seems to revive and brighten up. Mine +host has set a light on the chair, at the side of the cot, and left her +alone with the stranger. Slowly she opens her eyes, and with increasing +anxiety sets them full upon him. Their recognition is mutual. "Madame +Flamingo!" ejaculates the man, grasping her hand. + +"Tom Swiggs!" exclaims the woman, burying her face for a second, then +pressing his hand to her lips, and kissing it with the fondness of a +child, as her eyes swim in tears. "How strange to find you thus--" +continues Tom, for truly it is he who sits by the forlorn woman. + +"More strange," mutters the woman, shaking her head sorrowfully, "that I +should be brought to this terrible end. I am dying--I cannot last +long--the fever has left me only to die a neglected wretch. Hear +me--hear me, while I tell you the tale of my troubles, that others may +take warning. And may God give me strength. And you--if I have wronged +you, forgive me--it is all I can ask in this world." Here Tom +administers another draught of warm brandy and water, the influence of +which is soon perceptible in the regaining strength of the patient. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIX. + +A STORY WITH MANY COUNTERPARTS. + + +A very common story is this of Madame Flamingo's troubles. It has +counterparts enough, and though they may be traced to a class of society +less notorious than that with which she moved, are generally kept in the +dark chamber of hidden thoughts. We are indeed fast gaining an +unenviable fame for snobbery, for affecting to be what we never can be, +and for our sad imitation of foreign flunkydom, which, finding us rivals +in the realm of its tinsil, begins to button up its coat and look +contemptuously at us over the left shoulder. If, albeit, the result of +that passion for titles and plush (things which the empty-headed of the +old world would seem to have consigned to the empty-headed of the new), +which has of late so singularly discovered itself among our "best-known +families," could be told, it would unfold many a tale of misery and +betrayal. Pardon this digression, generous reader, and proceed with us +to the story of Madame Flamingo. + +"And now," says the forlorn woman, in a faint, hollow voice, "when my +ambition seemed served--I was ambitious, perhaps vain--I found myself +the victim of an intrigue. I ask forgiveness of Him who only can forgive +the wicked; but how can I expect to gain it?" She presses Tom's hand, +and pauses for a second. "Yes, I was ambitious," she continues, "and +there was something I wanted. I had money enough to live in comfort, +but the thought that it was got of vice and the ruin of others, weighed +me down. I wanted the respect of the world. To die a forgotten wretch; +to have the grave close over me, and if remembered at all, only with +execration, caused me many a dark thought." Here she struggles to +suppress her emotions. "I sought to change my condition; that, you see, +has brought me here. I married one to whom I intrusted my all, in whose +rank, as represented to me by Mr. Snivel, and confirmed by his friend, +the Judge, I confided. I hoped to move with him to a foreign country, +where the past would all be wiped out, and where the associations of +respectable society would be the reward of future virtue. + +"In London, where I now reap the fruits of my vanity, we enjoyed good +society for a time, were sought after, and heaped with attentions. But I +met those who had known me; it got out who I was; I was represented much +worse than I was, and even those who had flattered me in one sphere, did +not know me. In Paris it was the same. And there my husband said it +would not do to be known by his titles, for, being an exile, it might be +the means of his being recognized and kidnapped, and carried back a +prisoner to his own dear Poland. In this I acquiesced, as I did in +everything else that lightened his cares. Gradually he grew cold and +morose towards me, left me for days at a time, and returned only to +abuse and treat me cruelly. He had possession of all my money, which I +soon found he was gambling away, without gaining an entrée for me into +society. + +"From Paris we travelled, as if without any settled purpose, into Italy, +and from thence to Vienna, where I discovered that instead of being a +prince, my husband was an impostor, and I his dupe. He had formerly +been a crafty shoemaker; was known to the police as a notorious +character, who, instead of having been engaged in the political +struggles of his countrymen, had fled the country to escape the penalty +of being the confederate of a desperate gang of coiners and +counterfeiters. We had only been two days in Vienna when I found he had +disappeared, and left me destitute of money or friends. My connection +with him only rendered my condition more deplorable, for the police +would not credit my story; and while he eluded its vigilance, I was +suspected of being a spy in the confidence of a felon, and ruthlessly +ordered to leave the country." + +"Did not your passport protect you?" interrupts Tom, with evident +feeling. + +"No one paid it the least regard," resumes Madame Flamingo, becoming +weaker and weaker. "No one at our legations evinced sympathy for me. +Indeed, they all refused to believe my story. I wandered back from city +to city, selling my wardrobe and the few jewels I had left, and +confidently expecting to find in each place I entered, some one I had +known, who would listen to my story, and supply me with means to reach +my home. I could soon have repaid it, but my friends had gone with my +money; no one dare venture to trust me--no one had confidence in +me--every one to whom I appealed had an excuse that betrayed their +suspicion of me. Almost destitute, I found myself back in London--how I +got here, I scarce know--where I could make myself understood. My hopes +now brightened, I felt that some generous-hearted captain would give me +a passage to New York, and once home, my troubles would end. But being +worn down with fatigue, and my strength prostrated, a fever set in, and +I was forced to seek refuge in a miserable garret in Drury-Lane, and +where I parted with all but what now remains on my back, to procure +nourishment. I had begun to recover somewhat, but the malady left me +broken down, and when all was gone, I was turned into the street. Yes, +yes, yes, (she whispers,) they gave me to the streets; for twenty-four +hours I have wandered without nourishment, or a place to lay my head. I +sought shelter in a dark court, and there laid down to die; and when my +eyes were dim, and all before me seemed mysterious and dark with curious +visions, a hand touched me, and I felt myself borne away." Here her +voice chokes, she sinks back upon the pillow, and closes her eyes as her +hands fall careless at her side. "She breathes! she breathes yet!" says +Tom, advancing his ear to the pale, quivering lips of the wretched +woman. Now he bathes her temples with the vinegar from a bottle in the +hand of the host, who is just entered, and stands looking on, his +countenance full of alarm. + +"If she deys in my 'ouse, good sir, w'oat then?" + +"You mean the expense?" + +"Just so--it 'll be nae trifle, ye kno'!" The host shakes his head, +doubtingly. Tom begs he will not be troubled about that, and gives +another assurance from his purse that quite relieves the host's +apprehensions. A low, heavy breathing, followed by a return of spasms, +bespeaks the sinking condition of the sufferer. The policeman returns, +preceded by a physician--the only one to be got at, he says--in very +dilapidated broadcloth, and whose breath is rather strong of gin. "An' +whereabutes did ye pick the woman up,--an, an, wha's teu stond the +bill?" he inquires, in a deep Scotch brogue, then ordering the little +window opened, feels clumsily the almost pulseless hand. Encouraged on +the matter of his bill, he turns first to the host, then to Tom, and +says, "the wuman's nae much, for she's amast dede wi' exhaustion." And +while he is ordering a nostrum he knows can do no good, the woman makes +a violent struggle, opens her eyes, and seems casting a last glance +round the dark room. Now she sets them fixedly upon the ceiling, her +lips pale, and her countenance becomes spectre-like--a low, gurgling +sound is heard, the messenger of retribution is come--Madame Flamingo is +dead! + + + + +CHAPTER XL. + +IN WHICH THE LAW IS SEEN TO CONFLICT WITH OUR CHERISHED CHIVALRY. + + +"What could the woman mean, when on taking leave of me she said, 'you +are far richer than me?'" questions Maria McArthur to herself, when, +finding she is alone and homeless in the street, she opens the packet +the woman Anna slipped so mysteriously into her hand, and finds it +contains two twenty-dollar gold pieces. And while evolving in her mind +whether she shall appropriate them to the relief of her destitute +condition, her conscience smites her. It is the gold got of vice. Her +heart shares the impulse that prompted the act, but her pure spirit +recoils from the acceptance of such charity. "You are far richer than +me!" knells in her ears, and reveals to her the heart-burnings of the +woman who lives in licentious splendor. "I have no home, no friend near +me, and nowhere to lay my head; and yet I am richer than her;" she says, +gazing at the moon, and the stars, and the serene heavens. And the +contemplation brings to her consolation and strength. She wanders back +to the gate of the old prison, resolved to return the gold in the +morning, and, was the night not so far spent, ask admittance into the +cell her father occupies. But she reflects, and turns away; well knowing +how much more painful will be the smart of his troubles does she +disclose to him what has befallen her. + +She continues sauntering up a narrow by-lane in the outskirts of the +city. A light suddenly flashes across her path, glimmers from the window +of a little cabin, and inspires her with new hopes. She quickens her +steps, reaches the door, meets a welcome reception, and is made +comfortable for the night by the mulatto woman who is its solitary +tenant. The woman, having given Maria of her humble cheer, seems only +too anxious to disclose the fact that she is the slave and cast-off +mistress of Judge Sleepyhorn, on whose head she invokes no few curses. +It does not touch her pride so much that he has abandoned her, as that +he has taken to himself one of another color. She is tall and straight +of figure, with prominent features, long, silky black hair, and a rich +olive complexion; and though somewhat faded of age, it is clear that she +possessed in youth charms of great value in the flesh market. + +Maria discloses to her how she came in possession of the money, as also +her resolve to return it in the morning. Undine (for such is her name) +applauds this with great gusto. "Now, thar!" she says, "that's the +spirit I likes." And straightway she volunteers to be the medium of +returning the money, adding that she will show the hussy her contempt of +her by throwing it at her feet, and "letting her see a _slave_ knows all +about it." + +Maria fully appreciates the kindness, as well as sympathizes with the +wounded pride of this slave daughter; nevertheless, there is an +humiliation in being driven to seek shelter in a negro cabin that +touches her feelings. For a white female to seek shelter under the roof +of a negro's cabin, is a deep disgrace in the eyes of our very refined +society; and having subjected herself to the humiliation, she knows full +well that it may be used against her--in fine, made a means to defame +her character. + +Night passes away, and the morning ushers in soft and sunny, but brings +with it nothing to relieve her situation. She, however, returns the gold +to Anna through a channel less objectionable than that Undine would have +supplied, and sallies out to seek lodgings. In a house occupied by a +poor German family, she seeks and obtains a little room, wherein she +continues plying at her needle. + +The day set apart for the trial before a jury of "special bail" arrives. +The rosy-faced commissioner is in his seat, a very good-natured jury is +impanelled, and the feeble old man is again brought into court. Maria +saunters, thoughtful, and anxious for the result, at the outer door. +Peter Crimpton rises, addresses the jury at great length, sets forth the +evident intention of fraud on the part of the applicant, and the +enormity of the crime. He will now prove his objections by competent +witnesses. The proceedings being in accordance with what Mr. Snivel +facetiously terms the strict rules of special pleading, the old man's +lips are closed. Several very respectable witnesses are called, and aver +they saw the old Antiquary with a gold watch mounted, at a recent date; +witnesses quite as dependable aver they have known him for many years, +but never mounted with anything so extravagant as a gold watch. So much +for the validity of testimony! It is very clear that the very +respectable witnesses have confounded some one else with the prisoner. + +The Antiquary openly confesses to the possession of a pin, and the +curious skull (neither of which are valuable beyond their associations), +but declares it more an oversight than an intention that they were left +out of the schedule. For the virtue of the schedule, Mr. Crimpton is +singularly scrupulous; nor does it soften his aspersions that the old +man offers to resign them for the benefit of the State. Mr. Crimpton +gives his case to the jury, expressing his belief that a verdict will be +rendered in his favor. A verdict of guilty (for so it is rendered in our +courts) will indeed give the prisoner to him for an indefinite period. +In truth, the only drawback is that the plaintiff will be required to +pay thirty cents a day to Mr. Hardscrabble, who will starve him rightly +soundly. + +The jury, very much to Mr. Crimpton's chagrin, remain seated, and +declare the prisoner not guilty. Was this sufficient--all the law +demanded? No. Although justice might have been satisfied, the law had +other ends to serve, and in the hands of an instrument like Crimpton, +could be turned to uses delicacy forbids our transcribing here. The old +man's persecutors were not satisfied; the verdict of the jury was with +him, but the law gave his enemies power to retain him six months longer. +Mr. Crimpton demands a writ of appeal to the sessions. The Commissioner +has no alternative, notwithstanding the character of the pretext upon +which it is demanded is patent on its face. Such is but a feeble +description of one of the many laws South Carolina retains on her +statute book to oppress the poor and give power to the rich. If we would +but purge ourselves of this distemper of chivalry and secession, that so +blinds our eyes to the sufferings of the poor, while driving our +politicians mad over the country (we verily believe them all coming to +the gallows or insane hospital), how much higher and nobler would be our +claim to the respect of the world! + +Again the old man is separated from his daughter, placed in the hands of +a bailiff, and remanded back to prison, there to hope, fear, and while +away the time, waiting six, perhaps eight months, for the sitting of the +Court of Appeals. The "Appeal Court," you must know, would seem to have +inherited the aristocracy of our ancestors, for, having a great aversion +to business pursuits, it sits at very long intervals, and gets through +very little business. + +When the news of her father's remand reaches Maria, it overwhelms her +with grief. Varied are her thoughts of how she shall provide for the +future; dark and sad are the pictures of trouble that rise up before +her. Look whichever way she will, her ruin seems sealed. The health of +her aged father is fast breaking--her own is gradually declining under +the pressure of her troubles. Rapidly forced from one extreme to +another, she appeals to a few acquaintances who have expressed +friendship for her father; but their friendship took wings when grim +poverty looked in. Southern hospitality, though bountifully bestowed +upon the rich, rarely condescends to shed its bright rays over the needy +poor. + +Maria advertises for a situation, in some of our first families, as +private seamstress. Our first families having slaves for such offices, +have no need of "poor white trash." She applies personally to several +ladies of "eminent standing," and who busy themselves in getting up +donations for northern Tract Societies. They have no sympathy to waste +upon her. Her appeal only enlists coldness and indifference. The "Church +Home" had lent an ear to her story, but that her address is very +unsatisfactory, and it is got out that she is living a very suspicious +life. The "Church Home," so virtuous and pious, can do nothing for her +until she improves her mode of living. Necessity pinches Maria at every +turn. "To be poor in a slave atmosphere, is truly a crime," she says to +herself, musing over her hard lot, while sitting in her chamber one +evening. "But I am the richer! I will rise above all!" She has just +prepared to carry some nourishment to her father, when Keepum enters, +his face flushed, and his features darkened with a savage scowl. "I have +said you were a fool--all women are fools!--and now I know I was not +mistaken!" This Mr. Keepum says while throwing his hat sullenly upon the +floor. "Well," he pursues, having seated himself in a chair, looked +designingly at the candle, then contorted his narrow face, and frisked +his fingers through his bright red hair, "as to this here wincing and +mincing--its all humbuggery of a woman like you. Affecting such morals! +Don't go down here; tell you that, my spunky girl. Loose morals is what +takes in poor folks." + +Maria answers him only with a look of scorn. She advances to the door to +find it locked. + +"It was me--I locked it. Best to be private about the matter," says +Keepum, a forced smile playing over his countenance. + +Unresolved whether to give vent to her passion, or make an effort to +inspire his better nature, she stands a few moments, as if immersed in +deep thought, then suddenly falls upon her knees at his feet, and +implores him to save her this last step to her ruin. "Hear me, oh, hear +me, and let your heart give out its pity for one who has only her virtue +left her in this world;" she appeals to him with earnest voice, and eyes +swimming in tears. "Save my father, for you have power. Give him his +liberty, that I, his child, his only comfort in his old age, may make +him happy. Yes! yes!--he will die where he is. Will you, can you--you +have a heart--see me struggle against the rude buffets of an unthinking +world! Will you not save me from the Poor-house--from the shame that +awaits me with greedy clutches, and receive in return the blessing of a +friendless woman! Oh!--you will, you will--release my father!--give him +back to me and make me happy. Ah, ha!--I see, I see, you have feelings, +better feelings--feelings that are not seared. You will have pity on me; +you will forgive, relent--you cannot see a wretch suffer and not be +moved to lighten her pain!" The calm, pensive expression that lights up +her countenance is indeed enough to inspire the tender impulses of a +heart in which every sense of generosity is not dried up. + +Her appeal, nevertheless, falls ineffectual. Mr. Keepum has no generous +impulses to bestow upon beings so sensitive of their virtue. With him, +it is a ware of very little value, inasmuch as the moral standard fixed +by a better class of people is quite loose. He rises from his chair with +an air of self-confidence, seizes her by the hand, and attempts to drag +her upon his knee, saying, "you know I can and will make you a lady. +Upon the honor of a gentleman, I love you--always have loved you; but +what stands in the way, and is just enough to make any gentleman of my +standing mad, is this here squeamishness--" + +"No! no! go from me. Attempt not again to lay your cruel hands upon me!" +The goaded woman struggles from his grasp, and shrieks for help at the +very top of her voice. And as the neighbors come rushing up stairs, Mr. +Keepum valorously betakes himself into the street. Maddened with +disappointment, and swearing to have revenge, he seeks his home, and +there muses over the "curious woman's" unswerving resolution. "Cruelty!" +he says to himself--"she charges me with cruelty! Well," (here he sighs) +"it's only because she lacks a bringing up that can appreciate a +gentleman." (Keepum could never condescend to believe himself less than +a very fine gentleman.) "As sure as the world the creature is somewhat +out in the head. She fancies all sorts of things--shame, disgrace, and +ruin!--only because she don't understand the quality of our +morality--that's all! There's no harm, after all, in these little +enjoyments--if the girl would only understand them so. Our society is +free from pedantry; and there--no damage can result where no one's the +wiser. It's like stealing a blush from the cheek of beauty--nobody +misses it, and the cheek continues as beautiful as ever." Thus +philosophizes the chivalric gentleman, until he falls into a fast +sleep. + + + + +CHAPTER XLI. + +IN WHICH JUSTICE IS SEEN TO BE VERY ACCOMMODATING. + + +A few days have elapsed, Maria has just paid a visit to her father, +still in prison, and may be seen looking in at Mr. Keepum's office, in +Broad street. "I come not to ask a favor, sir; but, at my father's +request, to say to you that, having given up all he has in the world, it +can do no good to any one to continue him in durance, and to ask of +you--in whom the sole power rests--that you will grant him his release +ere he dies?" She addresses Mr. Keepum, who seems not in a very good +temper this morning, inasmuch as several of his best negroes, without +regard to their value to him, got a passion for freedom into their +heads, and have taken themselves away. In addition to this, he is much +put out, as he says, at being compelled to forego the pleasure held out +on the previous night, of tarring and feathering two northerners +suspected of entertaining sentiments not exactly straight on the +"peculiar question." A glorious time was expected, and a great deal of +very strong patriotism wasted; but the two unfortunate individuals, by +some means not yet discovered, got the vigilance committee, to whose +care they were entrusted, very much intoxicated, and were not to be +found when called for. Free knives, and not free speech, is our motto. +And this Mr. Keepum is one of the most zealous in carrying out. + +Mr. Keepum sits, his hair fretted back over his lean forehead, before a +table covered with papers, all indicating an immense business in lottery +and other speculations. Now he deposits his feet upon it; leans back in +his chair, puffs his cigar, and says, with an air of indifference to the +speaker: "I shall not be able to attend to any business of yours to-day, +Madam!" His clerk, a man of sturdy figure, with a broad, red face, and +dressed in rather dilapidated broadcloth, is passing in and out of the +front office, bearing in his fingers documents that require a signature +or mark of approval. + +"I only come, sir, to tell you that we are destitute--" Maria pauses, +and stands trembling in the doorway. + +"That's a very common cry," interrupts Keepum, relieving his mouth of +the cigar. "The affair is entirely out of my hands. Go to my attorney, +Peter Crimpton, Esq.,--what he does for you will receive my sanction. I +must not be interrupted to-day. I might express a thousand regrets; yes, +pass an opinion on your foolish pride, but what good would it do." + +And while Maria stands silent and hesitating, there enters the office +abruptly a man in the garb of a mechanic. "I have come," speaks the man, +in a tone of no very good humor, "for the last time. I asks of you--you +professes to be a gentleman--my honest rights. If the law don't give it +to me, I mean to take it with this erehand." (He shakes his hand at +Keepum.) "I am a poor man who ain't thought much of because I works for +a living; you have got what I had worked hard for, and lain up to make +my little family comfortable. I ask a settlement and my own--what is +due from one honest man to another!" He now approaches the table, +strikes his hand upon it, and pauses for a reply. + +Mr. Keepum coolly looks up, and with an insidious leer, says, "There, +take yourself into the street. When next you enter a gentleman's office, +learn to deport yourself with good manners." + +"Pshaw! pshaw!" interrupts the man. "What mockery! When men like +you--yes, I say men like you--that has brought ruin on so many poor +families, can claim to be gentlemen, rogues may get a patent for their +order." The man turns to take his departure, when the infuriated Keepum, +who, as we have before described, gets exceedingly put out if any one +doubts his honor, seizes an iron bar, and stealing up behind, fetches +him a blow over the head that fells him lifeless to the floor. + +Maria shrieks, and vaults into the street. The mass upon the floor +fetches a last agonizing shrug, and a low moan, and is dead. The +murderer stands over him, exultant, as the blood streams from the deep +fracture. In fine, the blood of his victim would seem rather to increase +his satisfaction at the deed, than excite a regret. + +Call you this murder? Truly, the man has outraged God's law. And the +lover of law and order, of social good, and moral honesty, would find +reasons for designating the perpetrator an assassin. For has he not +first distressed a family, and then left it bereft of its protector? You +may think of it and designate it as you please. Nevertheless we, in our +fancied mightiness, cannot condescend to such vulgar considerations. We +esteem it extremely courageous of Mr. Keepum, to defend himself "to the +death" against the insults of one of the common herd. Our first +families applaud the act, our sensitive press say it was "an unfortunate +affair," and by way of admonition, add that it were better working +people be more careful how they approach gentlemen. Mr. Snivel will call +this, the sublime quality of our chivalry. What say the jury of inquest? + +Duly weighing the high position of Mr. Keepum, and the very low +condition of the deceased, the good-natured jury return a verdict that +the man met his death in consequence of an accidental blow, administered +with an iron instrument, in the hands of one Keepum. From the +testimony--Keepum's clerk--it is believed the act was committed in +self-defence. + +Mr. Keepum, as is customary with our fine gentlemen, and like a hero (we +will not content ourselves with making him one jot less), magnanimously +surrenders himself to the authorities. The majesty of our laws is not +easily offended by gentlemen of standing. Only the poor and the helpless +slave can call forth the terrible majesty of the law, and quicken to +action its sensitive quality. The city is shocked that Mr. Keepum is +subjected to a night in jail, notwithstanding he has the jailer's best +parlor, and a barricade of champaign bottles are strewn at his feet by +flattering friends, who make night jubilant with their carousal. + +Southern society asks no repentance of him whose hands reek with the +blood of his poor victim; southern society has no pittance for that +family Keepum has made lick the dust in tears and sorrow. Even while we +write--while the corpse of the murdered man, followed by a few brother +craftsmen, is being borne to its last resting-place, the perpetrator, +released on a paltry bail, is being regaled at a festive board. Such is +our civilization! How had the case stood with a poor man! Could he have +stood up against the chivalry of South Carolina, scoffed at the law, or +bid good-natured justice close her eyes? No. He had been dragged to a +close cell, and long months had passed ere the tardy movements of the +law reached his case. Even then, popular opinion would have turned upon +him, pre-judged him, and held him up as dangerous to the peace of the +people. Yes, pliant justice would have affected great virtue, and +getting on her high throne, never ceased her demands until he had +expiated his crime at the gallows. + +A few weeks pass: Keepum's reputation for courage is fully endorsed, the +Attorney-General finds nothing in the act to justify him in bringing it +before a Grand Jury, the law is satisfied (or ought to be satisfied), +and the rich murderer sleeps without a pang of remorse. + + + + +CHAPTER XLII. + +IN WHICH SOME LIGHT IS THROWN ON THE PLOT OF THIS HISTORY. + + +June, July, and August are past away, and September, with all its +autumnal beauties, ushers in, without bringing anything to lighten the +cares of that girl whose father yet pines in prison. She looks forward, +hoping against hope, to the return of her lover (something tells her he +still lives), only to feel more keenly the pangs of hope deferred. + +And now, once more, New York, we are in thy busy streets. It is a +pleasant evening in early September. The soft rays of an autumn sun are +tinging the western sky, and night is fast drawing her sable mantle over +the scene. In Washington Square, near where the tiny fountain jets its +stream into a round, grassy-bordered basin, there sits a man of middle +stature, apparently in deep study. His dress is plain, and might be +taken for that of either a working man, or a somewhat faded inspector of +customs. Heedless of those passing to and fro, he sits until night +fairly sets in, then rises, and faces towards the East. Through the +trunks of trees he sees, and seems contemplating the gray walls of the +University, and the bold, sombre front of the very aristocratic church +of the Reformed Dutch. + +"Well!" he mutters to himself, resuming his seat, and again facing to +the west, "this ere business of ourn is a great book of life--'tis that! +Finds us in queer places; now and then mixed up curiously." He rises a +second time, advances to a gas-light, draws a letter from his pocket, +and scans, with an air of evident satisfaction, over the contents. +"Umph!" he resumes, and shrugs his shoulders, "I was right on the +address--ought to have known it without looking." Having resumed his +seat, he returns the letter to his pocket, sits with his elbow upon his +knee, and his head rested thoughtfully in his right hand. The picture +before him, so calm and soft, has no attractions for him. The dusky hues +of night, for slowly the scene darkens, seem lending a softness and +calmness to the foliage. The weeping branches of the willow, +interspersed here and there, as if to invest the picture with a touching +melancholy, sway gently to and fro; the leaves of the silvery poplar +tremble and reflect their shadows on the fresh waters; and the flitting +gas-lights mingle their gleams, play and sport over the rippled surface, +coquet with the tripping star-beams, then throw fantastic lights over +the swaying foliage; and from beneath the massive branches of trees, +there shines out, in bold relief, the marble porticoes and lintels of +stately-looking mansions. Such is the calm grandeur of the scene, that +one could imagine some Thalia investing it with a poetic charm the gods +might muse over. + +"It is not quite time yet," says the man, starting suddenly to his feet. +He again approaches a gas-light, looks attentively at his watch, then +saunters to the corner of Fourth and Thompson streets. An old, +dilapidated wooden building, which some friend has whitewashed into +respectability, and looking as if it had a strong inclination to tumble +either upon the sidewalk, or against the great trunk of a hoary-headed +tree at the corner, arrests his attention. "Well," he says, having +paused before it, and scanned its crooked front, "this surely is the +house where the woman lived when she was given the child. Practice, and +putting two things together to find what one means, is the great thing +in our profession. Like its old tenant, the house has got down a deal. +It's on its last legs." Again he consults his watch, and with a +quickened step recrosses the Square, and enters ---- Avenue. Now he +halts before a spacious mansion, the front of which is high and bold, +and deep, and of brown freestone. The fluted columns; the +elegantly-chiselled lintels; the broad, scrolled window-frames; the +exactly-moulded arches; the massive steps leading to the deep, vaulted +entrance, with its doors of sombre and highly-polished walnut; and its +bold style of architecture, so grand in its outlines,--all invest it +with a regal air. The man casts a glance along the broad avenue, then +into the sombre entrance of the mansion. Now he seems questioning within +himself whether to enter or retrace his steps. One-half of the outer +door, which is in the Italian style, with heavy fluted mouldings, stands +ajar; while from out the lace curtains of the inner, there steals a +faint light. The man rests his elbow on the great stone scroll of the +guard-rail, and here we leave him for a few moments. + +The mansion, it may be well to add here, remains closed the greater part +of the year; and when opened seems visited by few persons, and those not +of the very highest standing in society. A broken-down politician, a +seedy hanger-on of some "literary club," presided over by a rich, but +very stupid tailor, and now and then a lady about whose skirts something +not exactly straight hangs, and who has been elbowed out of fashionable +society for her too ardent love of opera-singers, and handsome actors, +may be seen dodging in now and then. Otherwise, the mansion would seem +very generally deserted by the neighborhood. + +Everybody will tell you, and everybody is an individual so extremely +busy in other people's affairs, that he ought to know, that there is +something that hangs so like a rain-cloud about the magnificent skirts +of those who live so secluded "in that fine old pile," (mansion,) that +the virtuous satin of the Avenue never can be got to "mix in." Indeed, +the Avenue generally seems to have set its face against those who reside +in it. They enjoy none of those very grand assemblies, balls, and +receptions, for which the Avenue is become celebrated, and yet they +luxuriate in wealth and splendor. + +Though the head of the house seems banished by society, society makes +her the subject of many evil reports and mysterious whisperings. The +lady of the mansion, however, as if to retort upon her traducers, makes +it known that she is very popular abroad, every now and then during her +absence honoring them with mysterious clippings from foreign +journals--all setting forth the admiration her appearance called forth +at a grand reception given by the Earl and Countess of ----. + +Society is made of inexorable metal, she thinks, for the prejudices of +the neighborhood have not relaxed one iota with time. That she has been +presented to kings, queens, and emperors; that she has enjoyed the +hospitalities of foreign embassies; that she has (and she makes no +little ado that she has) shone in the assemblies of prime ministers; +that she has been invited to court concerts, and been the flattered of +no end of fashionable _coteries_, serves her nothing at home. They are +events, it must be admitted, much discussed, much wondered at, much +regretted by those who wind themselves up in a robe of stern morality. +In a few instances they are lamented, lest the morals and manners of +those who make it a point to represent us abroad should reflect only the +brown side of our society. + +As if with regained confidence, the man, whom we left at the door +scroll, is seen slowly ascending the broad steps. He enters the vaulted +vestibule, and having touched the great, silver bell-knob of the inner +door, stands listening to the tinkling chimes within. A pause of several +minutes, and the door swings cautiously open. There stands before him +the broad figure of a fussy servant man, wedged into a livery quite like +that worn by the servants of an English tallow-chandler, but which, it +must be said, and said to be regretted, is much in fashion with our +aristocracy, who, in consequence of its brightness, believe it the exact +style of some celebrated lord. The servant receives a card from the +visitor, and with a bow, inquires if he will wait an answer. + +"I will wait the lady's pleasure--I came by appointment," returns the +man. And as the servant disappears up the hall, he takes a seat, +uninvited, upon a large settee, in carved walnut. "Something mysterious +about this whole affair!" he muses, scanning along the spacious hall, +into the conservatory of statuary and rare plants, seen opening away at +the extreme end. The high, vaulted roof; the bright, tesselated floor; +the taste with which the frescoes decorating the walls are designed; +the great winding stairs, so richly carpeted--all enhanced in beauty by +the soft light reflected upon them from a massive chandelier of stained +glass, inspire him with a feeling of awe. The stillness, and the air of +grandeur pervading each object that meets his eye, reminds him of the +halls of those mediæval castles he has read of in his youth. The servant +returns, and makes his bow. "My leady," he says, in a strong +Lincolnshire brogue, "'as weated ye an 'our or more." + +The visitor, evincing some nervousness, rises quickly to his feet, +follows the servant up the hall, and is ushered into a parlor of regal +dimensions, on the right. His eye falls upon one solitary occupant, who +rises from a lounge of oriental richness, and advances towards him with +an air of familiarity their conditions seem not to warrant. Having +greeted the visitor, and bid him be seated (he takes his seat, shyly, +beside the door), the lady resumes her seat in a magnificent chair. For +a moment the visitor scans over the great parlor, as if moved by the +taste and elegance of everything that meets his eye. The hand of art has +indeed been lavishly laid on the decorations of this chamber, which +presents a scene of luxury princes might revel in. And though the soft +wind of whispering silks seemed lending its aid to make complete the +enjoyment of the occupant, it might be said, in the words of Crabbe: + + "But oh, what storm was in that mind!" + +The person of the lady is in harmony with the splendor of the apartment. +Rather tall and graceful of figure, her complexion pale, yet soft and +delicate, her features as fine and regular as ever sculptor chiselled, +her manner gentle and womanly. In her face, nevertheless, there is an +expression of thoughtfulness, perhaps melancholy, to which her large, +earnest black eyes, and finely-arched brows, fringed with dark lashes, +lend a peculiar charm. While over all there plays a shadow of languor, +increased perhaps by the tinge of age, or a mind and heart overtaxed +with cares. + +"I received your note, which I hastened to answer. Of course you +received my answer. I rejoice that you have persevered, and succeeded in +finding the object I have so long sought. Not hearing from you for so +many weeks, I had begun to fear she had gone forever," says the lady, in +a soft, musical voice, raising her white, delicate hand to her cheek, +which is suffused with blushes. + +"I had myself almost given her over, for she disappeared from the +Points, and no clue could be got of her," returns the man, pausing for a +moment, then resuming his story. "A week ago yesterday she turned up +again, and I got wind that she was in a place we call 'Black-beetle +Hole'--" + +"Black-beetle Hole!" ejaculates the lady, whom the reader will have +discovered is no less a person than Madame Montford. Mr. Detective +Fitzgerald is the visitor. + +"Yes, there's where she's got, and it isn't much of a place, to say the +best. But when a poor creature has no other place to get a stretch down, +she stretches down there--" + +"Proceed to how you found her, and what you have got from her concerning +the child," the lady interrupts, with a deep sigh. + +"Well," proceeds the detective, "I meets--havin' an eye out all the +while--Sergeant Dobbs one morning--Dobbs knows every roost in the Points +better than me!--and says he, 'Fitzgerald, that are woman, that crazy +woman, you've been in tow of so long, has turned up. There was a row in +Black-beetle Hole last night. I got a force and descended into the +place, found it crammed with them half-dead kind of women and men, and +three thieves, what wanted to have a fuss with the hag that keeps it. +One on 'em was thrashing the poor crazy woman. They had torn all the +rags off her back. Hows-ever, if you wants to fish her out, you'd better +be spry about it--'" + +The lady interrupts by saying she will disguise, and with his +assistance, go bring her from the place--save her! Mr. Fitzgerald begs +she will take the matter practically. She could not breathe the air of +the place, he says. + +"'Thank you Dobbs,' says I," he resumes, "and when it got a bit dark I +went incog. to Black-beetle's Hole--" + +"And where is this curious place?" she questions, with an air of +anxiety. + +"As to that, Madame--well, you wouldn't know it was lived in, because +its underground, and one not up to the entrance never would think it led +to a place where human beings crawled in at night. I don't wonder so +many of 'em does things what get 'em into the Station, and after that +treated to a short luxury on the Island. As I was goin' on to say, I got +myself fortified, started out into the Points, and walked--we take these +things practically--down and up the east sidewalk, then stopped in front +of the old rotten house that Black-beetle Hole is under. Then I looks +down the wet little stone steps, that ain't wide enough for a big man +to get down, and what lead into the cellar. Some call it Black-beetle +Hole, and then again some call it the Hole of the Black-beetles. 'Yer +after no good, Mr. Fitzgerald,' says Mrs. McQuade, whose husband keeps +the junk-shop over the Hole, putting her malicious face out of the +window. + +"'You're the woman I want, Mrs. McQuade,' says I. 'Don't be puttin' your +foot in the house,' says she. And when I got her temper a little down by +telling her I only wanted to know who lived in the Hole, she swore by +all the saints it had niver a soul in it, and was hard closed up. Being +well up to the dodges of the Points folks, I descended the steps, and +gettin' underground, knocked at the Hole door, and then sent it smash +in. 'Well! who's here?' says I. 'It's me,' says Mrs. Lynch, a knot of an +old woman, who has kept the Hole for many years, and says she has no +fear of the devil." + +Madame Montford listens with increasing anxiety; Mr. Detective +Fitzgerald proceeds: "'Get a light here, then;' says I. You couldn't see +nothing, it was so dark, but you could hear 'em move, and breathe. And +then the place was so hot and sickly. Had to stand it best way I could. +There was no standing straight in the dismal place, which was wet and +nasty under foot, and not more nor twelve by fourteen. The old woman +said she had only a dozen lodgers in; when she made out to get a light +for me I found she had twenty-three, tucked away here and there, under +straw and stuff. Well, it was curious to see 'em (here the detective +wipes his forehead with his handkerchief) rise up, one after another, +all round you, you know, like fiends that had been buried for a time, +then come to life merely to get something to eat." + +"And did you find the woman--and was she one of them?" + +"That's what I'm comin' at. Well, I caught a sight at the woman; knew +her at the glance. I got a sight at her one night in the Pit at the +House of the Nine Nations. 'Here! I wants you,' says I, takin' what +there was left of her by the arm. She shrieked, and crouched down, and +begged me not to hurt her, and looked wilder than a tiger at me. And +then the whole den got into a fright, and young women, and boys, and +men--they were all huddled together--set up such a screaming. 'Munday!' +says I, 'you don't go to the Tombs--here! I've got good news for you.' +This quieted her some, and then I picked her up--she was nearly +naked--and seeing she wanted scrubbing up, carried her out of the Hole, +and made her follow me to my house, where we got her into some clothes, +and seeing that she was got right in her mind, I thought it would be a +good time to question her." + +"If you will hasten the result of your search, it will, my good sir, +relieve my feelings much!" again interposes the lady, drawing her chair +nearer the detective. + +"'You've had.' I says to her, 'a hard enough time in this world, and now +here's the man what's going to be a friend to ye--understand that!' says +I, and she looked at me bewildered. We gave her something to eat, and a +pledge that no one would harm her, and she tamed down, and began to look +up a bit. 'Your name wasn't always Munday?' says I, in a way that she +couldn't tell what I was after. She said she had taken several names, +but Munday was her right name. Then she corrected herself--she was weak +and hoarse--and said it was her husband's name. 'You've a good memory, +Mrs. Munday,' says I; 'now, just think as far back as you can, and tell +us where you lived as long back as you can think.' She shook her head, +and began to bury her face in her hands I tried for several minutes, but +could get nothing more out of her. Then she quickened up, shrieked out +that she had just got out of the devil's regions, and made a rush for +the door." + + + + +CHAPTER XLIII. + +IN WHICH IS REVEALED THE ONE ERROR THAT BROUGHT SO MUCH SUFFERING UPON +MANY. + + +Mr. Fitzgerald sees that his last remark is having no very good effect +on Madame Montford, and hastens to qualify, ere it overcome her. "That, +I may say, Madame, was not the last of her. My wife and me, seeing how +her mind was going wrong again, got her in bed for the night, and took +what care of her we could. Well, you see, she got rational in the +morning, and, thinking it a chance, I 'plied a heap of kindness to her, +and got her to tell all she knew of herself. She went on to tell where +she lived--I followed your directions in questioning her--at the time +you noted down. She described the house exactly. I have been to it +to-night; knew it at a sight, from her description. Some few practical +questions I put to her about the child you wanted to get at, I found +frightened her so that she kept shut--for fear, I take it, that it was a +crime she may be punished for at some time. I says, 'You was trusted +with a child once, wasn't you?' 'The Lord forgive me,' she says, 'I know +I'm guilty--but I've been punished enough in this world haven't I?' And +she burst out into tears, and hung down her head, and got into the +corner, as if wantin' nobody to see her. She only wanted a little good +care, and a little kindness, to bring her to. This we did as well as we +could, and made her understand that no one thought of punishing her, but +wanted to be her friends. Well, the poor wretch began to pick up, as I +said before, and in three days was such another woman that nobody could +have told that she was the poor crazy thing that ran about the lanes and +alleys of the Points. And now, Madame, doing as you bid me, I thought it +more practical to come to you, knowing you could get of her all you +wanted. She is made comfortable. Perhaps you wouldn't like to have her +brought here--I may say I don't think it would be good policy. If you +would condescend to come to our house, you can see her alone. I hope you +are satisfied with my services." The detective pauses, and again wipes +his face. + +"My gratitude for your perseverance I can never fully express to you. I +owe you a debt I never can repay. To-morrow, at ten o'clock, I will meet +you at your house; and then, if you can leave me alone with her--" + +"Certainly, certainly, everything will be at your service, Madame," +returns the detective, rising from his seat and thanking the lady, who +rewards him bountifully from her purse, and bids him good night. The +servant escorts him to the door, while Madame Montford buries her face +in her hands, and gives vent to her emotions. + +On the morning following, a neatly-caparisoned carriage is seen driving +to the door of a little brick house in Crosby street. From it Madame +Montford alights, and passes in at the front door, while in another +minute it rolls away up the street and is lost to sight. A few moments' +consultation, and the detective, who has ushered the lady into his +humbly-furnished little parlor, withdraws to give place to the pale and +emaciated figure of the woman Munday, who advances with faltering step +and downcast countenance. "Oh! forgive me, forgive me! have mercy upon +me! forgive me this crime!" she shrieks. Suddenly she raises her eyes, +and rushing forward throws herself at Madame Montford's feet, in an +imploring attitude. Dark and varied fancies crowd confusedly on Madame +Montford's mind at this moment. + +"Nay, nay, my poor sufferer, rather I might ask forgiveness of you." She +takes the woman by the hand, and, with an air of regained calmness, +raises her from the floor. With her, the outer life seems preparing the +inner for what is to come. "But I have long sought you--sought you in +obedience to the demands of my conscience, which I would the world gave +me power to purify; and now I have found you, and with you some rest for +my aching heart. Come, sit down; forget what you have suffered; tell me +what befell you, and what has become of the child; tell me all, and +remember that I will provide for you a comfortable home for the rest of +your life." Madame motions her to a chair, struggling the while to +suppress her own feelings. + +"I loved the child you intrusted to my care; yes, God knows I loved it, +and watched over it for two years, as carefully as a mother. But I was +poor, and the brother, in whose hands you intrusted the amount for its +support (this, the reader must here know, was not a brother, but the +paramour of Madame Montford), failed, and gave me nothing after the +first six months. I never saw him, and when I found you had gone +abroad--" The woman hesitates, and, with weeping eyes and trembling +voice, again implores forgiveness. "My husband gave himself up to +drink, lost his situation, and then he got to hating the child, and +abusing me for taking it, and embarrassing our scanty means of living. +Night and day, I was harassed and abused, despised and neglected. I was +discouraged, and gave up in despair. I clung to the child as long as I +could. I struggled, and struggled, and struggled--" Here the woman +pauses, and with a submissive look, again hangs down her head and sobs. + +"Be calm, be calm," says Madame Montford, drawing nearer to her, and +making an effort to inspirit her. "Throw off all your fears, forget what +you have suffered, for I, too, have suffered. And you parted with the +child?" + +"Necessity forced me," pursues the woman, shaking her head. "I saw only +the street before me on one side, and felt only the cold pinchings of +poverty on the other. You had gone abroad--" + +"It was my intention to have adopted the child as my own when I +returned," interrupts Madame Montford, still clinging to that flattering +hope in which the criminal sees a chance of escape. + +"And I," resumes the woman, "left the husband who neglected me, and who +treated me cruelly, and gave myself,--perhaps I was to blame for it,--up +to one who befriended me. He was the only one who seemed to care for me, +or to have any sympathy for me. But he, like myself, was poor; and, +being compelled to flee from our home, and to live in obscurity, where +my husband could not find me out, the child was an incumbrance I had no +means of supporting. I parted with her--yes, yes, I parted with her to +Mother Bridges, who kept a stand at a corner in West street--" + +"And then what became of her?" again interposes Madame Montford. The +woman assumes a sullenness, and it is some time before she can be got to +proceed. + +"My conscience rebuked me," she resumes, as if indifferent about +answering the question, "for I loved the child as my own; and the friend +I lived with, and who followed the sea, printed on its right arm two +hearts and a broken anchor, which remain there now. My husband died of +the cholera, and the friend I had taken to, and who treated me kindly, +also died, and I soon found myself an abandoned woman, an outcast--yes, +ruined forever, and in the streets, leading a life that my own feelings +revolted at, but from which starvation only seemed the alternative. My +conscience rebuked me again and again, and something--I cannot tell what +it was--impelled me with an irresistible force to watch over the +fortunes of the child I knew must come to the same degraded life +necessity--perhaps it was my own false step--had forced upon me. I +watched her a child running neglected about the streets, then I saw her +sold to Hag Zogbaum, who lived in Pell street; I never lost sight of +her--no, I never lost sight of her, but fear of criminating myself kept +me from making myself known to her. When I had got old in vice, and +years had gone past, and she was on the first step to the vice she had +been educated to, we shared the same roof. Then she was known as Anna +Bonard--" + +"Anna Bonard!" exclaims Madame Montford. "Then truly it is she who now +lives in Charleston! There is no longer a doubt. I may seek and claim +her, and return her to at least a life of comfort." + +"There you will find her. Ah, many times have I looked upon her, and +thought if I could only save her, how happy I could die. I shared the +same roof with her in Charleston, and when I got sick she was kind to +me, and watched over me, and was full of gentleness, and wept over her +condition. She has sighed many a time, and said how she wished she knew +how she came into the world, to be forced to live despised by the world. +But I got down, down, down, from one step to another, one step to +another, as I had gone up from one step to another in the splendor of +vice, until I found myself, tortured in mind and body, a poor neglected +wretch in the Charleston Poor-house. In it I was treated worse than a +slave, left, sick and heart-broken, and uncared-for, to the preying of a +fever that destroyed my mind. And as if that were not enough, I was +carried into the dungeons--the 'mad cells,'--and chained. And this +struck such a feeling of terror into my soul that my reason, as they +said, was gone forever. But I got word to Anna, and she came to me, and +gave me clothes and many little things to comfort me, and got me out, +and gave me money to get back to New York, where I have been ever since, +haunted from place to place, with scarce a place to lay my head. Surely +I have suffered. Shall I be forgiven?" Her voice here falters, she +becomes weak, and seems sinking under the burden of her emotions. +"If,--if--if," she mutters, incoherently, "you can save me, and forgive +me, you will have the prayers of one who has drank deep of the bitter +cup." She looks up with a sad, melancholy countenance, again implores +forgiveness, and bursts into loud sobs. + +"Mine is the guilty part--it is me who needs forgiveness!" speaks Madame +Montford, pressing the hand of the forlorn woman, as the tears stream +down her cheeks. She has unburdened her emotions, but such is the +irresistible power of a guilty conscience that she finds her crushed +heart and smitten frame sinking under the shock--that she feels the very +fever of remorse mounting to her brain. + +"Be calm, be calm--for you have suffered, wandered through the dark +abyss--truly you have been chastened enough in this world. But while +your heart is only bruised and sore, mine is stung deep and lacerated. +The image of that child now rises up before me. I see her looking back +over her chequered life, and pining to know her birthright. Mine is the +task of seeking her out, reconciling her, saving her from this life of +shame. I must sacrifice the secrets of my own heart, go boldly in +pursuit of her--" She pauses a moment. There is yet a thin veil between +her and society. Society only founds its suspicions upon the mystery +involved in the separation from her husband, and the doubtful character +of her long residence in Europe. Society knows nothing of the birth of +the child. The scandal leveled at her in Charleston, was only the result +of her own indiscretion. "Yes," she whispers, attempting at the same +time to soothe the feelings of the poor disconsolate woman, "I must go, +and go quickly--I must drag her from the terrible life she is +leading;--but, ah! I must do it so as to shield myself. Yes, I must +shield myself!" And she puts into the woman's hand several pieces of +gold, saying: "take this!--to-morrow you will be better provided for. Be +silent. Speak to no one of what has passed between us, nor make the +acquaintance of any one outside the home I shall provide for you." Thus +saying, she recalls Mr. Detective Fitzgerald, rewards him with a nostrum +from her purse, and charges him to make the woman comfortable at her +expense. + +"Her mind, now I do believe," says the detective, with an approving +toss of the head, "her faculties'll come right again,--they only wants a +little care and kindness, mum." The detective thanks her again and +again, then puts the money methodically into his pocket. + +The carriage having returned, Madame Montford vaults into it as quickly +as she alighted, and is rolled away to her mansion. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIV. + +IN WHICH IS RECORDED EVENTS THE READER MAY NOT HAVE EXPECTED. + + +While the events we have recorded in the foregoing chapter, confused, +hurried, and curious, are being enacted in New York, let us once more +turn to Charleston. + +You must know that, notwithstanding our high state of civilization, we +yet maintain in practice two of the most loathsome relics of +barbarism--we lash helpless women, and we scourge, at the public +whipping-post, the bare backs of men. + +George Mullholland has twice been dragged to the whipping-post, twice +stripped before a crowd in the market-place, twice lashed, maddened to +desperation, and twice degraded in the eyes of the very negroes we teach +to yield entire submission to the white man, however humble his grade. +Hate, scorn, remorse--every dark passion his nature can summon--rises up +in one torturing tempest, and fills his bosom with a mad longing for +revenge. "Death!" he says, while looking out from his cell upon the +bright landscape without, "what is death to me? The burnings of an +outraged soul subdue the thought of death." + +The woman through whom this dread finale was brought upon him, and who +now repines, unable to shake off the smarts old associations crowd upon +her heart, has a second and third time crept noiselessly to his cell, +and sought in vain his forgiveness. Yea, she has opened the door gently, +but drew back in terror before his dark frown, his sardonic scorn, his +frenzied rush at her. Had he not loved her fondly, his hate had not +taken such deep root in his bosom. + +Two or three days pass, he has armed himself "to the death," and is +resolved to make his escape, and seek revenge of his enemies. It is +evening. Dark festoons of clouds hang over the city, lambent lightning +plays along the heavens in the south. Now it flashes across the city, +the dull panorama lights up, the tall, gaunt steeples gleam out, and the +surface of the Bay flashes out in a phosphoric blaze. Patiently and +diligently has he filed, and filed, and filed, until he has removed the +bar that will give egress to his body. The window of his cell overlooks +the ditch, beyond which is the prison wall. Noiselessly he arranges the +rope, for he is in the third story, then paces his cell, silent and +thoughtful. "Must it be?" he questions within himself, "must I stain +these hands with the blood of the woman I love? Revenge, revenge--I will +have revenge. I will destroy both of them, for to-morrow I am to be +dragged a third time to the whipping-post." Now he casts a glance round +the dark cell, now he pauses at the window, now the lightning courses +along the high wall, then reflects back the deep ditch. Another moment, +and he has commenced his descent. Down, down, down, he lowers himself. +Now he holds on tenaciously, the lightning reflects his dangling figure, +a prisoner in a lower cell gives the alarm, he hears the watchword of +his discovery pass from cell to cell, the clashing of the keeper's door +grates upon his ear like thunder--he has reached the end of his rope, +and yet hangs suspended in the air. A heavy fall is heard, he has +reached the ditch, bounds up its side to the wall, seizes a pole, and +places against it, and, with one vault, is over into the open street. +Not a moment is to be lost. Uproar and confusion reigns throughout the +prison, his keepers have taken the alarm, and will soon be on his track, +pursuing him with ferocious hounds. Burning for revenge, and yet +bewildered, he sets off at full speed, through back lanes, over fields, +passing in his course the astonished guardmen. He looks neither to the +right nor the left, but speeds on toward the grove. Now he reaches the +bridge that crosses the millpond, pauses for breath, then proceeds on. +Suddenly a light from the villa Anna occupies flashes out. He has +crossed the bridge, bounds over the little hedge-grown avenue, through +the garden, and in another minute stands before her, a pistol pointed at +her breast, and all the terrible passions of an enraged fiend darkening +his countenance. Her implorings for mercy bring an old servant rushing +into the room, the report of a pistol rings out upon the still air, +shriek after shriek follows, mingled with piercing moans, and +death-struggles. "Ha, ha!" says the avenger, looking on with a sardonic +smile upon his face, and a curl of hate upon his lip, "I have taken the +life to which I gave my own--yes, I have taken it--I have taken it!" And +she writhes her body, and sets her eyes fixedly upon him, as he hastens +out of the room. + +"Quick! quick!" he says to himself. "There, then! I am pursued!" He +recrosses the millpond over another bridge, and in his confusion turns a +short angle into a lane leading to the city. The yelping of dogs, the +deep, dull tramp of hoofs, the echoing of voices, the ominous baying +and scenting of blood-hounds--all break upon his ear in one terrible +chaos. Not a moment is to be lost. The sight at the villa will attract +the attention of his pursuers, and give him time to make a distance! The +thought of what he has done, and the terrible death that awaits him, +crowds upon his mind, and rises up before him like a fierce monster of +retribution. He rushes at full speed down the lane, vaults across a +field into the main road, only to find his pursuers close upon him. The +patrol along the streets have caught the alarm, which he finds spreading +with lightning-speed. The clank of side-arms, the scenting and baying of +the hounds, coming louder and louder, nearer and nearer, warns him of +the approaching danger. A gate at the head of a wharf stands open, the +hounds are fast gaining upon him, a few jumps more and they will have +him fast in their ferocious grasp. He rushes through the gate, down the +wharf, the tumultuous cry of his pursuers striking terror into his very +heart. Another instant and the hounds are at his feet, he stands on the +capsill at the end, gives one wild, despairing look into the abyss +beneath--"I die revenged," he shouts, discharges a pistol into his +breast, and with one wild plunge, is buried forever in the water +beneath. The dark stream of an unhappy life has run out. Upon whom does +the responsibility of this terrible closing rest? In the words of +Thomson, the avenger left behind him only "Gaunt Beggary, and Scorn, +with many hell-hounds more." + +When the gray dawn of morning streamed in through the windows of the +little villa, and upon the parlor table, that had so often been adorned +with caskets and fresh-plucked flowers, there, in their stead, lay the +lifeless form of the unhappy Anna, her features pale as marble, but +beautiful even in death. There, rolled in a mystic shroud, calm as a +sleeper in repose, she lay, watched over by two faithful slaves. + +The Judge and Mr. Snivel have found it convenient to make a trip of +pleasure into the country. And though the affair creates some little +comment in fashionable society, it would be exceedingly unpopular to pry +too deeply into the private affairs of men high in office. We are not +encumbered with scrutinizing morality. Being an "unfortunate woman," the +law cannot condescend to deal with her case. Indeed, were it brought +before a judge, and the judge to find himself sitting in judgment upon a +judge, his feelings would find some means of defrauding his judgment, +while society would carefully close the shutter of its sanctity. + +At high noon there comes a man of the name of Moon, commonly called Mr. +Moon, the good-natured Coroner. In truth, a better-humored man than Mr. +Moon cannot be found; and what is more, he has the happiest way in the +world of disposing of such cases, and getting verdicts of his jury +exactly suited to circumstances. Mr. Moon never proceeds to business +without regaling his jury with good brandy and high-flavored cigars. In +this instance he has bustled about and got together six very solemn and +seriously-disposed gentlemen, who proceed to deliberate. "A mystery +hangs over the case," says one. A second shakes his head, and views the +body as if anxious to get away. A third says, reprovingly, that "such +cases are coming too frequent." Mr. Moon explains the attendant +circumstances, and puts a changed face on the whole affair. One juryman +chalks, and another juryman chalks, and Mr. Moon says, by way of +bringing the matter to a settled point, "It is a bad ending to a +wretched life." A solemn stillness ensues, and then follows the verdict. +The body being identified as that of one Anna Bonard, a woman celebrated +for her beauty, but of notorious reputation, the jury are of opinion +(having duly weighed the circumstances) that she came to her melancholy +death by the hands of one George Mullholland, who was prompted to commit +the act for some cause to the jury unknown. And the jury, in passing the +case over to the authorities, recommend that the said Mullholland be +brought to justice. This done, Mr. Moon orders her burial, and the jury +hasten home, fully confident of having performed their duty unswerved. + +When night came, when all was hushed without, and the silence within was +broken only by the cricket's chirp, when the lone watcher, the faithful +old slave, sat beside the cold, shrouded figure, when the dim light of +the chamber of death seemed mingling with the shadows of departed souls, +there appeared in the room, like a vision, the tall figure of a female, +wrapped in a dark mantle. Slowly and noiselessly she stole to the side +of the deceased, stood motionless and statue-like for several minutes, +her eyes fixed in mute contemplation on the face of the corpse. The +watcher looked and started back, still the figure remained motionless. +Raising her right hand to her chin, pensively, she lifted her eyes +heavenward, and in that silent appeal, in those dewy tears that +glistened in her great orbs, in those words that seemed freezing to her +quivering lips, the fierce struggle waging in that bosom was told. She +heard the words, "You cannot redeem me now!" knelling in her ears, her +thoughts flashed back over years of remorse, to the day of her error, +and she saw rising up as it were before her, like a spectre from the +tomb, seeking retribution, the image of the child she had sacrificed to +her vanity. She pressed and pressed the cold hand, so delicate, so like +her own; she unbared the round, snowy arm, and there beheld the +imprinted hearts, and the broken anchor! Her pent-up grief then burst +its bounds, the tears rolled down her cheeks, her lips quivered, her +hand trembled, and her very blood seemed as ice in her veins. She cast a +hurried glance round the room, a calm and serene smile seemed lighting +up the features of the lifeless woman, and she bent over her, and kissed +and kissed her cold, marble-like brow, and bathed it with her burning +tears. It was a last sad offering; and having bestowed it, she turned +slowly away, and disappeared. It was Madame Montford, who came a day too +late to save the storm-tossed girl, but returned to think of the +hereafter of her own soul. + + + + +CHAPTER XLV. + +ANOTHER SHADE OF THE PICTURE. + + +While the earth of Potter's Field is closing over all that remains of +Anna Bonard, Maria McArthur may be seen, snatching a moment of rest, as +it were, seated under the shade of a tree on the Battery, musing, as is +her wont. The ships sail by cheerily, there is a touching beauty about +the landscape before her, all nature seems glad. Even the heavens smile +serenely; and a genial warmth breathes through the soft air. "Truly the +Allwise," she says within herself, "will be my protector, and is +chastising me while consecrating something to my good. Mr. Keepum has +made my father's release the condition of my ruin. But he is but flesh +and blood, and I--no, I am not yet a slave! The virtue of the poor, +truly, doth hang by tender threads; but I am resolved to die struggling +to preserve it." And a light, as of some future joy, rises up in her +fancy, and gives her new strength. + +The German family have removed from the house in which she occupies a +room, and in its place are come two women of doubtful character. Still, +necessity compels her to remain in it; for though it is a means resorted +to by Keepum to effect his purpose, she cannot remove without being +followed, and harassed by him. Strong in the consciousness of her own +purity, and doubly incensed at the proof of what extremes the designer +will condescend to, she nerves herself for the struggle she sees before +her. True, she was under the same roof with them; she was subjected to +many inconveniencies by their presence; but not all their flattering +inducements could change her resolution. Nevertheless, the resolution of +a helpless female does not protect her from the insults of heartless +men. She returns home to find that Mother Rumor, with her thousand +tongues, is circulating all kinds of evil reports about her. It is even +asserted that she has become an abandoned woman, and is the occupant of +a house of doubtful repute. And this, instead of enlisting the +sympathies of some kind heart, rather increases the prejudice and +coldness of those upon whom she has depended for work. It is seldom the +story of suffering innocence finds listeners. The sufferer is too +frequently required to qualify in crime, before she becomes an object of +sympathy. + +She returns, one day, some work just finished for one of our high old +families, the lady of which makes it a boast that she is always engaged +in "laudable pursuits of a humane kind." The lady sends her servant to +the door with the pittance due, and begs to say she is sorry to hear of +the life Miss McArthur is leading, and requests she will not show +herself at the house again. Mortified in her feelings, Maria begs an +interview; but the servant soon returns an answer that her Missus cannot +descend to anything of the kind. Our high old families despise working +people, and wall themselves up against the poor, whose virtue they +regard as an exceedingly cheap commodity. Our high old families choose +rather to charge guilt, and deny the right to prove innocence. + +With the four shillings, Maria, weeping, turns from the door, procures +some bread and coffee, and wends her way to the old prison. But the +chords of her resolution are shaken, the cold repulse has gone like +poison to her heart. The ray of joy that was lighting up her future, +seems passing away; whilst fainter and fainter comes the hope of once +more greeting her lover. She sees vice pampered by the rich, and poor +virtue begging at their doors. She sees a price set upon her own ruin; +she sees men in high places waiting with eager passion the moment when +the thread of her resolution will give out. The cloud of her night does, +indeed, seem darkening again. + +But she gains the prison, and falters as she enters the cell where the +old Antiquary, his brow furrowed deep of age, sleeps calmly upon his +cot. Near his hand, which he has raised over his head, lays a letter, +with the envelope broken. Maria's quick eye flashes over the +superscription, and recognizes in it the hand of Tom Swiggs. A transport +of joy fills her bosom with emotions she has no power to constrain. She +trembles from head to foot; fancies mingled with joys and fears crowd +rapidly upon her thoughts. She grasps it with feelings frantic of joy, +and holds it in her shaking hand; the shock has nigh overcome her. The +hope in which she has so long found comfort and strength--that has so +long buoyed her up, and carried her safely through trials, has truly +been her beacon light. "Truly," she says within herself, "the dawn of my +morning is brightening now." She opens the envelope, and finds a letter +enclosed to her. "Oh! yes, yes, yes! it is him--it is from him!" she +stammers, in the exuberance of her wild joy. And now the words, "You +are richer than me," flash through her thoughts with revealed +significance. + +Maria grasps the old man's hand. He starts and wakes, as if unconscious +of his situation, then fixes his eyes upon her with a steady, vacant +gaze. Then, with childlike fervor, he presses her hand to his lips, and +kisses it. "It was a pleasant dream--ah! yes, I was dreaming all things +went so well!" Again a change comes over his countenance, and he glances +round the room, with a wild and confused look. "Am I yet in +prison?--well, it was only a dream. If death were like dreaming, I would +crave it to take me to its peace, that my mind might no longer be +harassed with the troubles of this life. Ah! there, there!"--(the old +man starts suddenly, as if a thought has flashed upon him)--"there is +the letter, and from poor Tom, too! I only broke the envelope. I have +not opened it." + +"It is safe, father; I have it," resumes Maria, holding it before him, +unopened, as the words tremble upon her lips. One moment she fears it +may convey bad news, and in the next she is overjoyed with the hope that +it brings tidings of the safety and return of him for whose welfare she +breathed many a prayer. Pale and agitated, she hesitates a moment, then +proceeds to open it. + +"Father, father! heaven has shielded me--heaven has shielded me! Ha! ha! +ha! yes, yes, yes! He is safe! he is safe!" And she breaks out into one +wild exclamation of joy, presses the letter to her lips, and kisses it, +and moistens it with her tears, "It was all a plot--a dark plot set for +my ruin!" she mutters, and sinks back, overcome with her emotions. The +old man fondles her to his bosom, his white beard flowing over her +suffused cheeks, and his tears mingling with hers. And here she +remains, until the anguish of her joy runs out, and her mind resumes its +wonted calm. + +Having broken the spell, she reads the letter to the enraptured old man. +Tom has arrived in New York; explains the cause of his long absence; +speaks of several letters he has transmitted by post, (which she never +received;) and his readiness to proceed to Charleston, by steamer, in a +few days. His letter is warm with love and constancy; he recurs to old +associations; he recounts his remembrance of the many kindnesses he +received at the hands of her father, when homeless; of the care, to +which he owes his reform, bestowed upon him by herself, and his burning +anxiety to clasp her to his bosom. + +A second thought flashes upon her fevered brain. Am I not the subject of +slander! Am I not contaminated by associations? Has not society sought +to clothe me with shame? Truth bends before falsehood, and virtue +withers under the rust of slandering tongues. Again a storm rises up +before her, and she feels the poisoned arrow piercing deep into her +heart. Am I not living under the very roof that will confirm the +slanders of mine enemies? she asks herself. And the answer rings back in +confirmation upon her too sensitive ears, and fastens itself in her +feelings like a reptile with deadly fangs. No; she is not yet free from +her enemies. They have the power of falsifying her to her lover. The +thought fills her bosom with sad emotions. Strong in the consciousness +of her virtue, she feels how weak she is in the walks of the worldly. +Her persecutors are guilty, but being all-powerful may seek in still +further damaging her character, a means of shielding themselves from +merited retribution. It is the natural expedient of bad men in power to +fasten crime upon the weak they have injured. + +Only a few days have to elapse, then, and Maria will be face to face +with him in whom her fondest hopes have found refuge: but even in those +few days it will be our duty to show how much injury may be inflicted +upon the weak by the powerful. + +The old Antiquary observes the change that has come so suddenly over +Maria's feelings, but his entreaties fail to elicit the cause. Shall she +return to the house made doubtful by its frail occupants; or shall she +crave the jailer's permission to let her remain and share her father's +cell? Ah! solicitude for her father settles the question. The +alternative may increase his apprehensions, and with them his +sufferings. Night comes on; she kisses him, bids him a fond adieu, and +with an aching heart returns to the house that has brought so much +scandal upon her. + +On reaching the door she finds the house turned into a bivouac of +revelry; her own chamber is invaded, and young men and women are making +night jubilant over Champagne and cigars. Mr. Keepum and the Hon. Mr. +Snivel are prominent among the carousers; and both are hectic of +dissipation. Shall she flee back to the prison? Shall she go cast +herself at the mercy of the keeper? As she is about following the +thought with the act, she is seized rudely by the arms, dragged into the +scene of carousal, and made the object of coarse jokes. One insists that +she must come forward and drink; another holds an effervescing glass to +her lips; a third says he regards her modesty out of place, and demands +that she drown it with mellowing drinks. The almost helpless girl +shrieks, and struggles to free herself from the grasp of her enemies. +Mr. Snivel, thinking it highly improper that such cries go free, +catches her in his arms, and places his hand over her mouth. "Caught +among queer birds at last," he says, throwing an insidious wink at +Keepum. "Will flock together, eh?" + +As if suddenly invested with herculean strength, Maria hurls the ruffian +from her, and lays him prostrate on the floor. In his fall the table is +overset, and bottles, decanters and sundry cut glass accompaniments, are +spread in a confused mass on the floor. Suddenly Mr. Keepum extinguishes +the lights. This is the signal for a scene of uproar and confusion we +leave the reader to picture in his imagination. The cry of "murder" is +followed quickly by the cry of "watch, watch!" and when the guardmen +appear, which they are not long in doing, it is seen that the very +chivalric gentlemen have taken themselves off--left, as a prey for the +guard, only Maria and three frail females. + +Cries, entreaties, and explanations, are all useless with such men as +our guard is composed of. Her clothes are torn, and she is found rioting +in disreputable company. The sergeant of the guard says, "Being thus +disagreeably caught, she must abide the penalty. It may teach you how to +model your morals," he adds; and straightway, at midnight, she is +dragged to the guard-house, and in spite of her entreaties, locked up in +a cell with the outcast women. "Will you not hear me? will you not allow +an innocent woman to speak in her own behalf? Do, I beg, I beseech, I +implore you--listen but for a minute--render me justice, and save me +from this last step of shame and disgrace," she appeals to the sergeant, +as the cell door closes upon her. + +Mr. Sergeant Stubble, for such is his name, shakes his head in doubt. +"Always just so," he says, with a shrug of the shoulders: "every one's +innocent what comes here 'specially women of your sort. The worst +rioters 'come the greatest sentimentalists, and repents most when they +gets locked up--does! You'll find it a righteous place for reflection, +in there." Mr. Sergeant Stubble shuts the door, and smothers her cries. + + + + +CHAPTER XLVI. + +GAINING STRENGTH FROM PERSECUTION. + + +You know it is Bulwer who says, and says truly: "There is in calumny a +rank poison that, even when the character throws off the slander, the +heart remains diseased beneath the effect." The force of this on Maria's +thoughts and feelings, surrounded as she was by the vile influences of a +Charleston cell, came with strange effect as she contemplated her +friendless condition. There is one witness who can bear testimony to her +innocence, and in Him she still puts her trust. But the charitable have +closed their ears to her; and the outside world is too busy to listen to +her story. Those words of the poor woman who said, "You are still richer +than me," again ring their sweet music in her ear, and give strength to +her weary soul. They come to her like the voice of a merciful +Providence, speaking through the hushed air of midnight, and breathing +the sweet spirit of love into the dusky figures who tenant that dreary +cell. To Maria it is the last spark of hope, that rarely goes out in +woman's heart, and has come to tell her that to-morrow her star may +brighten. And now, reader, turn with us to another scene of hope and +anxiety. + +The steamer which bears Tom to Charleston is off Cape Romaine. He has +already heard of the fate of the old man McArthur. But, he asks himself, +may not truth and justice yet triumph? He paces and repaces the deck, +now gazing vacantly in the direction the ship is steering, then walking +to the stern and watching the long train of phosphoric light playing on +the toppling waves. + +There was something evasive in the manner of the man who communicated to +him the intelligence concerning McArthur. "May I ask another question of +you, sir?" he inquires, approaching the man who, like himself, sauntered +restlessly along the deck. + +The man hesitates, lights a fresh cigar. "You desire me to be frank with +you, of course," rejoins the man. "But I observe you are agitated. I +will answer your question, if it carry no personal wound. Speak, my +friend." + +"You know Maria?" + +"Well." + +"You know what has become of her, or where she resides?" + +Again the man hesitates--then says, "These are delicate matters to +discover." + +"You are not responsible for my feelings," interrupts the impatient man. + +"If, then, I must be plain,--she is leading the life of an outcast. Yes, +sir, the story is that she has fallen, and from necessity. I will say +this, though," he adds, by way of relief, "that I know nothing of it +myself." The words fall like a death-knell on his thoughts and feelings. +He stammers out a few words, but his tongue refuses to give utterance to +his thoughts. His whole nature seems changed; his emotions have filled +the cup of his sorrow; an abyss, deep, dark, and terrible, has opened to +his excited imagination. All the dark scenes of his life, all the +struggles he has had to gain his manliness, rise up before him like a +gloomy panorama, and pointing him back to that goal of dissipation in +which his mind had once found relief. He seeks his stateroom in +silence, and there invokes the aid of Him who never refuses to protect +the right. And here again we must return to another scene. + +Morning has come, the guard-roll has been called, and Judge Sleepyhorn +is about to hold high court. Maria and the companions of her cell are +arraigned, some black, others white, all before so august a judge. His +eye rests on a pale and dejected woman inwardly resolved to meet her +fate, calm and resolute. It is to her the last struggle of an eventful +life, and she is resolved to meet it with womanly fortitude. + +The Judge takes his seat, looks very grave, and condescends to say there +is a big docket to be disposed of this morning. "Crime seems to increase +in the city," he says, bowing to Mr. Seargent Stubbs. + +"If your Honor will look at that," Mr. Stubbs says, smiling,--"most on +em's bin up afore. All hard cases, they is." + +"If yeer Onher plases, might a woman o' my standin' say a woord in her +own difince? Sure its only a woord, Judge, an beein a dacent gintleman +ye'd not refuse me the likes." + +"Silence, there!" ejaculates Mr. Seargent Stubbs; "you must keep quiet +in court." + +"Faith its not the likes o' you'd keep me aisy, Mr. Stubbs. Do yee see +that now?" returns the woman, menacingly. She is a turbulent daughter of +the Emerald Isle, full five feet nine inches, of broad bare feet, with a +very black eye, and much in want of raiment. + +"The most corrigible case what comes to this court," says Mr. Stubbs, +bowing knowingly to the judge. "Rather likes a prison, yer Honor. Bin up +nine times a month. A dear customer to the state." + +The Judge, looking grave, and casting his eye learnedly over the pages +of a ponderous statute book, inquires of Mr. Seargent Stubbs what the +charge is. + +"Disturbed the hole neighborhood. A fight atween the Donahues, yer +Honor." + +"Dorn't believe a woord of it, yeer Onher. Sure, din't Donahue black the +eye o' me, and sphil the whisky too? Bad luck to Donahue, says I. You +don't say that to me, says he. I'd say it to the divil, says I. Take +that! says Donahue." Here Mrs. Donahue points to her eye, and brings +down even the dignity of the court. + +"In order to preserve peace between you and Donahue," says his Honor, +good naturedly, "I shall fine you ten dollars, or twenty days." + +"Let it go at twenty days," replies Mrs. Donahue, complimenting his +Honor's high character, "fir a divil o' ten dollars have I." And Mrs. +Donahue resigns herself to the tender mercies of Mr. Seargent Stubbs, +who removes her out of court. + +A dozen or more delinquent negroes, for being out after hours without +passes, are sentenced thirty stripes apiece, and removed, to the evident +delight of the Court, who is resolved that the majesty of the law shall +be maintained. + +It is Maria's turn now. Pale and trembling she approaches the circular +railing, assisted by Mr. Seargent Stubbs. She first looks imploringly at +the judge, then hangs down her head, and covers her face with her hands. + +"What is the charge?" inquires the Judge, turning to the loquacious +Stubbs. Mr. Stubbs says: "Disorderly conduct--and in a house of bad +repute." + +"I am innocent--I have committed no crime," interrupts the injured +woman. "You have dragged me here to shame me." Suddenly her face +becomes pale as marble, her limbs tremble, and the court is thrown into +a state of confusion by her falling to the floor in a swoon. + +"Its all over with her now," says Mr. Stubbs, standing back in fear. + +Crime has not dried up all the kinder impulses of Judge Sleepyhorn's +heart. Leaving the bench he comes quickly to the relief of the +unfortunate girl, holds her cold trembling hand in his own, and tenderly +bathes her temples. "Sorry the poor girl," he says, sympathizingly, +"should have got down so. Knew her poor old father when he was +comfortably off, and all Charleston liked him." His Honor adjourns +court, and ten minutes pass before the sufferer is restored to +consciousness. Then with a wild despairing look she scans those around +her, rests her head on her hand despondingly, and gives vent to her +tears. The cup of her sorrow has indeed overrun. + +"It was wrong to arrest you, young woman, and I sympathize with you. No +charge has been preferred, and so you are free. A carriage waits at the +door, and I have ordered you to be driven home," says the judge, +relaxing into sympathy. + +"I have no home now," she returns, the tears coursing down her wet +cheeks. "Slaves have homes, but I have none now." + +"When you want a friend, you'll find a friend in me. Keep up your +spirits, and remember that virtue is its own reward." Having said this, +the Judge raises her gently to her feet, supports her to the carriage, +and sees her comfortably seated. "Remember, you know, where to find a +friend if you want one," he says, and bids her good-morning. In another +minute the carriage is rolling her back to the home from whence she was +taken. She has no better home now. + + + + +CHAPTER XLVII. + +AN EXCITEMENT. + + +A bright fire burned that night in Keepum's best parlor, furnished with +all the luxuries modern taste could invent. Keepum, restless, paces the +carpet, contemplating his own importance, for he has just been made a +Major of Militia, and we have a rare love for the feather. Now he pauses +at a window and looks impatiently out, then frisks his fingers through +his crispy hair and resumes his pacing. He expects some one, whose +coming he awaits with evident anxiety. "The time is already up," he +says, drawing his watch from his pocket. The door-bell rings just then, +his countenance brightens, and a servant ushers Mr. Snivel in. "The time +is already up, my good fellow," says Keepum, extending his hand +familiarly,--Mr. Snivel saying, "I've so many demands on my time, you +know. We're in good time, you know. Must bring the thing to a head +to-night." A short conversation carried on in whispers, and they sally +out, and soon disappear down Broad street. + +Just rounding the frowning walls of fort Sumter, a fort the restless +people never had any particular love for, is a big red light of the +steamer cutting through the sea like a monster of smoke and flame, on +her way up the harbor. Another hour, and she will be safely moored at +her landing. Tom stands on the upper deck, looking intently towards the +city, his anxiety increasing as the ship approaches the end of her +voyage, and his eager eye catching each familiar object only to remind +him more forceably of the time when he seemed on the downward road of +life. Hope had already begun to dispel his fears, and the belief that +what the man had told him was founded only in slander, became stronger +the more he pondered over it. + +St. Michael's clock has just struck ten, and the mounted guard are +distributing into their different beats. Maria, contemplating what may +come to-morrow, sits at the window of her lonely chamber like one whom +the world had forgotten. The dull vibrating sound of the clock still +murmurs on the air as she is startled from her reverie by the sound of +voices under the window. She feels her very soul desponding. It does +indeed seem as if that moment has come when nature in her last struggle +with hope must yield up the treasure of woman's life, and sink into a +life of remorse and shame. The talking becomes more distinct; then there +is a pause, succeeded by Keepum and Snivel silently entering her room, +the one drawing a chair by her side, the other taking a seat near the +door. "Come as friends, you know," says Keepum, exchanging glances with +Snivel, then fixing his eyes wickedly on the woman. "Don't seem to enjoy +our company, eh? Poor folks is got to puttin' on airs right big, +now-a-days. Don't 'mount to much, anyhow; ain't much better than +niggers, only can't sell 'em." "Poor folks must keep up appearances, +eh," interposes Mr. Snivel. They are waiting an opportunity for seizing +and overpowering the unprotected girl. We put our chivalry to strange +uses at times. + +But the steamer has reached her wharf; the roaring of her escaping steam +disturbs the city, and reëchoes far away down the bay. Again familiar +scenes open to the impatient man's view; old friends pass and repass him +unrecognized; but only one thought impels him, and that is fixed on +Maria. He springs ashore, dashes through the crowd of spectators, and +hurries on, scarcely knowing which way he is going. + +At length he pauses on the corner of King and Market streets, and +glances up to read the name by the glare of gas-light. An old negro +wends his way homeward. "Daddy," says he, "how long have you lived in +Charleston?" + +"Never was out on em, Mas'r," replies the negro, looking inquisitively +into the anxious man's face. "Why, lor's me, if dis are bin't Mas'r Tom, +what used t' be dis old nigger's young Mas'r." + +"Is it you, Uncle Cato?" Their recognition was warm, hearty, and true. +"God bless you, my boy; I've need of your services now," says Tom, still +holding the hard hand of the old negro firmly grasped in his own, and +discovering the object of his mission. + +"Jus' tote a'ter old Cato, Mas'r Tom. Maria's down da, at Undine's +cabin, yander. Ain't no better gal libin dan Miss Maria," replies Cato, +enlarging on Maria's virtues. There is no time to be lost. They hurry +forward, Tom following the old negro, and turning into a narrow lane to +the right, leading to Undine's cabin. But here they are doomed to +disappointment. They reach Undine's cabin, but Maria is not there. +Undine comes to the door, and points away down the lane, in the +direction of a bright light. "You will find her dare" says Undine; "and +if she ain't dare, I don' know where she be." They thank her, repay her +with a piece of silver, and hurry away in the direction of the light, +which seems to burn dimmer and dimmer as they approach. It suddenly +disappears, and, having reached the house, a rickety wooden tenement, a +cry of "Save me, save me! Heaven save me!" rings out on the still air, +and falls on the ear of the already excited man, like a solemn warning. + +"Up dar! Mas'r Tom, up dar!" shouts Cato, pointing to a stairs leading +on the outside. Up Tom vaults, and recognizing Maria's voice, +supplicating for mercy, thunders at the door, which gives away before +his strength. "It is me, Maria! it is me!" he proclaims. "Who is this +that has dared to abuse or insult you?" and she runs and throws herself +into his arms. "A light! a light, bring a light, Cato!" he demands, and +the old negro hastens to obey. + +In the confusion of the movement, Keepum reaches the street in safety +and hastens to his home, leaving his companion to take care of himself. + +A pale gleam of light streams into the open door, discovering a tall +dusky figure moving noiselessly towards it. "Why, if here bin't Mas'r +Snivel!" ejaculates old Cato, who returns bearing a candle, the light of +which falls on the tall figure of Mr. Snivel. + +"What, villain! is it you who has brought all this distress upon a +friendless girl?"---- + +"Glad to see you back, Tom. Don't make so much of it, my good +fellow--only a bit of a lark, you know. 'Pon my honor, there was nothing +wrong meant. Ready to do you a bit of a good turn, any time," interrupts +Mr. Snivel, blandly, and extending his hand. + +"You! villain, do me a friendly act? Never. You poisoned the mind of my +mother against me, robbed her of her property, and then sought to +destroy the happiness and blast forever the reputation of one who is +dearer to me than a sister. You have lived a miscreant long enough. You +must die now." Quickly the excited man draws a pistol, the report rings +sharply on the ear, and the tall figure of Mr. Snivel staggers against +the door, then falls to the ground,--dead. His day of reckoning has +come, and with it a terrible retribution. + +"Now Maria, here," says Tom, picking up a packet of letters that had +dropped from the pocket of the man, as he fell, "is the proof of his +guilt and my sincerity." They were the letters written by him to Maria, +and intercepted by Mr. Snivel, through the aid of a clerk in the +post-office. "He has paid the penalty of his misdeeds, and I have no +regrets to offer. To-morrow I will give myself up and ask only justice." + +Then clasping Maria in his arms he bids old Cato follow him, and +proceeds with her to a place of safety for the night, as an anxious +throng gather about the house, eager to know the cause of the shooting. +"Ah, Mas'r Snivel," says old Cato, pausing to take a last look of the +prostrate form, "you's did a heap o' badness. Gone now. Nobody'll say he +care." + + + + +CHAPTER XLIX. + +ALL'S WELL. + + +Two months have passed since the events recorded in the preceding +chapter. Tom has been arraigned before a jury of his peers, and +honorably acquitted, although strong efforts were made to procure a +conviction, for Mr. Snivel had many friends in Charleston who considered +his death a loss. But the people said it was a righteous verdict, and +justified it by their applause. + +And now, the dark clouds of sorrow and trial having passed away, the +happy dawn of a new life is come. How powerfully the truth of the words +uttered by the woman, Undine, impresses itself on her mind now,--"You +are still richer than me." It is a bright sunny morning in early April. +Birds are making the air melodious with their songs; flowers blooming by +the roadside, are distilling their perfumes; a bright and serene sky, +tinged in the East with soft, azure clouds, gives a clear, delicate +outline to the foliage, so luxuriant and brilliant of color, skirting +the western edge of the harbor, and reflecting itself in the calm, +glassy water. A soft whispering wind comes fragrant from the west; it +does indeed seem as if nature were blending her beauties to make the +harmony perfect. + +A grotesque group, chiefly negroes, old and young, may be seen gathered +about the door of a quaint old personage near the millpond. Their +curiosity is excited to the highest pitch, and they wait with evident +impatience the coming of the object that has called them together. Chief +among the group is old Cato, in his best clothes, consisting of a tall +drab hat, a faded blue coat, the tail extending nearly to the ground, +striped pantaloons, a scarlet vest, an extravagant shirt collar, tied at +the neck with a piece of white cotton, and his bare feet. Cato moves up +and down, evidently feeling himself an important figure of the event, +and admonishing his young "brudren," who are much inclined to mischief, +not a few having perched on the pickets of the parsonage, to keep on +their best behavior. Then he discourses with great volubility of his +long acquaintance with Mas'r Tom and Miss Maria. + +As if to add another prominent picture to the scene, there appears at +the door of the parsonage, every few minutes, a magnificently got-up +negro, portly, grey hair, and venerable, dressed in unsullied black, a +spotless white cravat, and gloves. This is Uncle Pomp, who considers +himself an essential part of the parsonage, and is regarded with awe for +his Bible knowledge by all the colored people of the neighborhood. Pomp +glances up, then down the street, advances a few steps, admonishes the +young negroes, and exchanges bows with Cato, whom he regards as quite a +common brought-up negro compared with himself. Now he disappears, Cato +remarking to his companions that if he had Pomp's knowledge and learning +he would not thank anybody to make him a white man. + +Presently there is a stir in the group: all eyes are turned up the road, +and the cry is, "Dare da comes." Two carriages approach at a rapid +speed, and haul up at the gate, to the evident delight and relief of the +younger members of the group, who close in and begin scattering sprigs +of laurel and flowers along the path, as two couple, in bridal dress, +alight, trip quickly through the garden, and disappear, Pomp bowing +them into the parsonage. Tom and Maria are the central figures of the +interesting ceremony about to be performed. Old Cato received a warm +press of the hand from Tom as he passed, and Cato returned the +recognition, with "God bress Mas'r Tom." A shadow of disappointment +deepened in his face as he saw the door closed, and it occurred to him +that he was not to be a witness of the ceremony. But the door again +opened, and Pomp relieved his wounded feelings by motioning with his +finger, and, when Cato had reached the porch, bowing him into the house. + +And now we have reached the last scene in the picture. There, kneeling +before the altar in the parlor of that quaint old parsonage, are the +happy couple and their companions. The clergyman, in his surplice, reads +the touching service in a clear and impressive voice, while Pomp, in a +pair of antique spectacles, ejaculates the responses in a voice peculiar +to his race. Old Cato, kneeling before a chair near the door, follows +with a loud--Amen. There is something supremely simple, touching, and +impressive in the picture. As the closing words of the benediction fall +from the clergyman's lips, Maria, her pale oval face shadowed with that +sweetness and gentleness an innocent heart only can reflect, raises her +eyes upwards as if to return thanks to the Giver of all good for his +mercy and protection. As she did this a ray of light stole in at the +window and played softly over her features, like a messenger of love +come to announce a happy future. Just then the cup of her joy became +full, and tears, like gems of purest water, glistened in her eyes, then +moistened her pallid cheeks. Truly the woman spoke right when she said, + + "You are still still richer than me." + + + + +HOME INSURANCE COMPANY. +OFFICE, No. 112 & 114 BROADWAY. + + +CASH CAPITAL, ONE MILLION DOLLARS. +Assets, 1st July, 1860, $1,481,819 27. Liabilities, 1st July, 1860, +54,068 67. + + +The Home Insurance Company continues to issue against loss or damage +by FIRE and the dangers of INLAND NAVIGATION AND TRANSPORTATION, +on terms as favorable as the nature of the risks and the real +security of the Insured and the Company will warrant. + +LOSSES EQUITABLY ADJUSTED AND PROMPTLY PAID. + +Charles J. Martin, President. A.F. Willmarth, Vice-President. +J. MILTON SMITH, Secretary. JOHN MCGEE, Assistant Secretary. + + +DIRECTORS. + +Wm. G. Lambert, of A. & A. Lawrence & Co. +Geo. C. Collins, of Sherman, Collins & Co. +Danford N. Barney, of Wells, Fargo & Co. +Lucius Hopkins, President of Importers and Traders' Bank. +Thos. Messenger, of T. & H. Messenger. +Wm. H. Mellen, of Claflin, Mellen & Co. +Chas. J. Martin, President. +A.F. Willmarth, Vice-President. +Charles B. Hatch, of C.B. Hatch & Co. +B. Watson Bull, of Merrick & Bull. +Homer Morgan, +Levi P. Stone, of Stone, Starr & Co. +Jas. Humphrey, late of Barney, Humphrey & Butler. +George Pearce, of George Pearce & Co. +Ward A. Work, of Ward A. Work & Son. +James Low, of James Low & Co., of Louisville. +I.H. Frothingham, late firm of I.H. Frothingham & Co. +Charles A. Bulkley, Bulkley & Co. +Geo. D. Morgan, of E.D. Morgan & Co. +Cephas H. Norton, of Norton & Jewett. +Theo. McNamee, of Bowen, McNamee & Co. +Richard Bigelow, of Doan, King & Co., St. Louis. +Oliver E. Wood, of Willard, Wood & Co. +Alfred S. Barnes, A.S. Barnes & Burr. +George Bliss, of Phelps, Bliss & Co. +Roe Lockwood, of R. Lockwood & Son. +Levi P. Morton, of Morton, Grinnell & Co. +Curtis Noble, late of Condit & Noble. +J.B. Hutchinson, of J.C. Howe & Co., Boston. +Chas. P. Baldwin, of Baldwin, Starr & Co. +Amos T. Dwight, of Trowbridge, Dwight & Co. +H.A. Hurlbut, of Swift, Hurlbut & Co. +Jesse Hoyt, of Jesse Hoyt & Co. +Wm. Sturgis, Jr., of Sturgis, Shaw & Co. +John R. Ford, of Ford Rubber Co. +Sidney Mason, late of Mason & Thompson. +Geo. T. Stedman, of Stedman, Carlisle & Shaw, Cincinnati. +Cyrus Yale, Jr., of Cyrus Yale, Jr. & Co., of New Orleans. +Wm. R. Fosdick, of Wm. R. & Chas. B. Fosdick. +David I. Boyd, of Boyd, Brother & Co., Albany. +F.H. Cossitt, of Cossitt, Hill & Tallmadge, Memphis. +Lewis Roberts, of L. Roberts & Co. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of An Outcast, by F. Colburn Adams + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AN OUTCAST *** + +***** This file should be named 20745-8.txt or 20745-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/0/7/4/20745/ + +Produced by Graeme Mackreth, Curtis Weyant and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images produced by the Wright +American Fiction Project.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/20745-8.zip b/20745-8.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..cf8927c --- /dev/null +++ b/20745-8.zip diff --git a/20745-h.zip b/20745-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..ed86f1f --- /dev/null +++ b/20745-h.zip diff --git a/20745-h/20745-h.htm b/20745-h/20745-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f2ecff3 --- /dev/null +++ b/20745-h/20745-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,12518 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of An Outcast, by F. Colburn Adams. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + } /* page numbers */ + + + .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%;} + + + .bb {border-bottom: solid 2px;} + .bl {border-left: solid 2px;} + .bt {border-top: solid 2px;} + .br {border-right: solid 2px;} + .bbox {border: solid 2px;} + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + .u {text-decoration: underline;} + + + + + .footnotes {border: dashed 1px;} + .footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + .footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} + .fnanchor {vertical-align: super; font-size: .8em; text-decoration: none;} + + + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of An Outcast, by F. Colburn Adams + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: An Outcast + or, Virtue and Faith + +Author: F. Colburn Adams + +Release Date: March 5, 2007 [EBook #20745] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AN OUTCAST *** + + + + +Produced by Graeme Mackreth, Curtis Weyant and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images produced by the Wright +American Fiction Project.) + + + + + + +</pre> + + + + +<h1>AN OUTCAST;</h1> + +<h5>OR,</h5> + +<h2>VIRTUE AND FAITH.</h2> + + +<h4>BY</h4> + +<h2>F. COLBURN ADAMS.</h2> + + +<p class='center'>"Be merciful to the erring."</p> + + +<p class='center' style="margin-top: 5em;"><small>NEW YORK:<br /> PUBLISHED BY M. DOOLADY,<br /> 49 WALKER STREET. <br />1861.</small></p> + + + +<hr /> +<p class='center' style="margin-top: 5em;"><small>Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1861,<br /> + +<span class="smcap">By M. Doolady</span>,<br /> + +In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the +Southern District of New York.</small></p> + + + +<hr /> +<h2>PREFACE.</h2> + + +<p>When reason and conscience are a man's true guides to what he +undertakes, and he acts strictly in obedience to them, he has little to +fear from what the unthinking may say. You cannot, I hold, mistake a man +intent only on doing good. You may differ with him on the means he calls +to his aid; but having formed a distinct plan, and carried it out in +obedience to truth and right, it will be difficult to impugn the +sincerity of his motives. For myself, I care not what weapon a man +choose, so long as he wield it effectively, and in the cause of humanity +and justice. We are a sensitive nation, prone to pass great moral evils +over in silence rather than expose them boldly, or trace them to their +true sources. I am not indifferent to the duty every writer owes to +public opinion, nor the penalties he incurs in running counter to it. +But fear of public opinion, it seems to me, has been productive of much +evil, inasmuch as it prefers to let crime exist rather than engage in +reforms. Taking this view of the matter, I hold fear of public opinion +to be an evil much to be deplored. It aids in keeping out of sight that +which should be exposed to public view, and is satisfied to pass +unheeded the greatest of moral evils. Most writers touch these great +moral evils with a timidity that amounts to fear, and in describing +crimes of the greatest magnitude, do it so daintily as to divest their +arguments of all force. The public cannot reasonably be expected to +apply a remedy for an evil, unless the cause as well as the effect be +exposed truthfully to its view. It is the knowledge of their existence +and the magnitude of their influence upon society, which no false +delicacy should keep out of sight, that nerves the good and generous to +action. I am aware that in exciting this action, great care should be +taken lest the young and weak-minded become fascinated with the gilding +of the machinery called to the writer's aid. It is urged by many good +people, who take somewhat narrow views of this subject, that in dealing +with the mysteries of crime vice should only be described as an ugly +dame with most repulsive features. I differ with those persons. It would +be a violation of the truth to paint her thus, and few would read of her +in such an unsightly dress. These persons do not, I think, take a +sufficiently clear view of the grades into which the vicious of our +community are divided, and their different modes of living. They found +their opinions solely on the moral and physical condition of the most +wretched and abject class, whose sufferings they would have us hold up +to public view, a warning to those who stand hesitating on the brink +between virtue and vice. I hold it better to expose the allurements +first, and then paint vice in her natural colors—a dame so gay and +fascinating that it is difficult not to become enamored of her. The ugly +and repulsive dame would have few followers, and no need of writers to +caution the unwary against her snares. And I cannot forget, that truth +always carries the more forcible lesson. But we must paint the road to +vice as well as the castle, if we would give effect to our warning. That +road is too frequently strewn with the brightest of flowers, the thorns +only discovering themselves when the sweetness of the flowers has +departed. I have chosen, then, to describe things as they are. You, +reader, must be the judge whether I have put too much gilding on the +decorations.</p> + +<p>I confess that the subject of this work was not congenial to my +feelings. I love to deal with the bright and cheerful of life; to leave +the dark and sorrowful to those whose love for them is stronger than +mine. Nor am I insensible to the liabilities incurred by a writer who, +having found favor with the public, ventures upon so delicate and +hazardous an undertaking. It matters not how carefully and discreetly he +perform the task, there will always be persons enough to question his +sincerity and cast suspicion upon his motives. What, I have already been +asked, was my motive for writing such a book as this? Why did I descend +into the repulsive haunts of the wretched and the gilded palaces of the +vicious for the material of a novel? My answer is in my book.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">New York</span>, <i>January 1st</i>, 1861.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h2>AN OUTCAST.</h2> + + +<h3>CHAPTER I.</h3> + +<p class='center' style='font-size:smaller;'>CHARLESTON.</p> + + +<p>This simple story commences on a November evening, in the autumn of +185-. Charleston and New York furnish me with the scenes and characters.</p> + +<p>Our quaint old city has been in a disquiet mood for several weeks. +Yellow fever has scourged us through the autumn, and we have again taken +to scourging ourselves with secession fancies. The city has not looked +up for a month. Fear had driven our best society into the North, into +the mountains, into all the high places. Business men had nothing to do; +stately old mansions were in the care of faithful slaves, and there was +high carnival in the kitchen. Fear had shut up the churches, shut up the +law-courts, shut up society generally. There was nothing for lawyers to +do, and the buzzards found it lonely enough in the market-place. The +clergy were to be found at fashionable watering-places, and politicians +found comfort in cards and the country. Timid doctors had taken to their +heels, and were not to be found. Book-keepers and bank-clerks were on +Sullivan's Island. The poor suffered in the city, and the rich had not a +thought to give them. Grave-looking men gathered into little knots, at +street corners, and talked seriously of Death's banquet. Old negroes +gathered about the kitchen-table, and terrified themselves with tales of +death: timid ones could not be got to pass through streets where the +scourge raged fiercest. Mounted guardsmen patrolled the lonely streets +at night, their horses' hoofs sounding on the still air, like a solemn +warning through a deserted city.</p> + +<p>Sisters of Mercy, in deep, dark garments, moved noiselessly along the +streets, by day and by night, searching out and ministering to the sick +and the dying. Like brave sentinels, they never deserted their posts. +The city government was in a state of torpor. The city government did +not know what to do. The city government never did know what to do. Four +hundred sick and dying lay languishing in the hospital. The city +government was sorry for them, and resolved that Providence would be the +best doctor. The dead gave place to the dying by dozens, and there has +been high carnival down in the dead-yard. The quick succession of +funeral trains has cast a shade of melancholy over the broad road that +leads to it. Old women are vending pies and cakes at the gates, and +little boys are sporting over the newly-made graves, that the wind has +lashed into furrows. Rude coffins stand about in piles, and tipsy +negroes are making the very air jubilant with the songs they bury the +dead to.</p> + +<p>A change has come over the scene now. There is no more singing down in +the dead-yard. A bright sun is shedding its cheerful rays over the broad +landscape, flowers deck the roadside, and the air comes balmy and +invigorating. There has been frost down in the lowlands. A solitary +stranger paces listlessly along the walks of the dead-yard, searching +in vain for the grave of a departed friend. The scourge has left a sad +void between friends living and friends gone to eternal rest. Familiar +faces pass us on the street, only to remind us of familiar faces passed +away forever. The city is astir again. Society is coming back to us. +There is bustle in the churches, bustle in the law courts, bustle in the +hotels, bustle along the streets, bustle everywhere. There is bustle at +the steamboat landings, bustle at the railway stations, bustle in all +our high places. Vehicles piled with trunks are hurrying along the +streets; groups of well-dressed negroes are waiting their master's +return at the landings, or searching among piles of trunks for the +family baggage. Other groups are giving Mas'r and Missus such a cordial +greeting. Society is out of an afternoon, on King street, airing its +dignity. There is Mr. Midshipman Button, in his best uniform, inviting +the admiration of the fair, and making such a bow to all distinguished +persons. Midshipman Button, as he is commonly called, has come home to +us, made known to us the pleasing fact that he is ready to command our +"navy" for us, whenever we build it for him. There is Major Longstring, +of the Infantry, as fine a man in his boots as woman would fancy, ready +to fight any foe; and corporal Quod, of the same regiment, ready to +shoulder his weapon and march at a moment. We have an immense admiration +for all these heroes, just now; it is only equalled by their admiration +of themselves. The buzzards, too, have assumed an unusual air of +importance—are busy again in the market; and long-bearded politicians +are back again, at their old business, getting us in a state of +discontent with the Union and everybody in general.</p> + +<p>There is a great opening of shutters among the old mansions. The music +of the organ resounds in the churches, and we are again in search of the +highest pinnacle to pin our dignity upon. Our best old families have +been doing the North extensively, and come home to us resolved never to +go North again. But it is fashionable to go North, and they will break +this resolution when spring comes. Mamma, and Julia Matilda have brought +home an immense stock of Northern millinery, all paid for with the +hardest of Southern money, which papa declares the greatest evil the +state suffers under. He has been down in the wilderness for the last ten +years, searching in vain for a remedy. The North is the hungry dog at +the door, and he will not be kicked away. So we have again mounted that +same old hobby-horse. There was so much low-breeding at the North, +landlords were so extortionate, vulgarity in fine clothes got in your +way wherever you went, servants were so impertinent, and the trades +people were so given to cheating. We would shake our garments of the +North, if only some one would tell us how to do it becomingly.</p> + +<p>Master Tom and Julia Matilda differ with the old folks on this great +question of bidding adieu to the North. Tom had a "high old time +generally," and is sorry the season closed so soon. Julia Matilda has +been in a pensive mood ever since she returned. That fancy ball was so +brilliant; those moonlight drives were so pleasant; those flirtations +were carried on with such charming grace! A dozen little love affairs, +like pleasant dreams, are touching her heart with their sweet +remembrance. The more she contemplates them the sadder she becomes. +There are no drives on the beach now, no moonlight rambles, no +promenades down the great, gay verandah, no waltzing, no soul-stirring +music, no tender love-tales told under the old oaks. But they brighten +in her fancy, and she sighs for their return. She is a prisoner now, +surrounded by luxury in the grim old mansion. Julia Matilda and Master +Tom will return to the North when spring comes, and enjoy whatever there +is to be enjoyed, though Major Longstring and Mr. Midshipman Button +should get us safe out of the Union.</p> + +<p>Go back with us, reader, not to the dead-yard, but to the quiet walks of +Magnolia Cemetery, hard by. A broad avenue cuts through the centre, and +stretches away to the west, down a gently undulating slope. Rows of tall +pines stand on either side, their branches forming an arch overhead, and +hung with long, trailing moss, moving and whispering mysteriously in the +gentle wind. Solemn cypress trees mark the by-paths; delicate flowers +bloom along their borders, and jessamine vines twine lovingly about the +branches of palmetto and magnolia trees. An air of enchanting harmony +pervades the spot; the dead could repose in no prettier shade. +Exquisitely chiselled marbles decorate the resting-places of the rich; +plain slabs mark those of the poor.</p> + +<p>It is evening now. The shadows are deepening down the broad avenue, the +wind sighs touchingly through the tall pines, and the sinking sun is +shedding a deep purple hue over the broad landscape. A solitary +mocking-bird has just tuned its last note, and sailed swiftly into the +dark hedgerow, down in the dead-yard.</p> + +<p>A young girl, whose fair oval face the sun of eighteen summers has +warmed into exquisite beauty, sits musingly under a cypress tree. Her +name is Anna Bonnard, and she is famous in all the city for her beauty, +as well as the symmetry of her form. Her dress is snowy white, fastened +at the neck with a blue ribbon, and the skirts flowing. Her face is +like chiselled marble, her eyes soft, black, and piercing, and deep, +dark tresses of silky hair fall down her shoulders to her waist. Youth, +beauty, and innocence are written in every feature of that fair face, +over which a pensive smile now plays, then deepens into sadness. Here +she has sat for several minutes, her head resting lightly on her right +hand, and her broad sun-hat in her left, looking intently at a newly +sodded grave with a plain white slab, on which is inscribed, in black +letters—"Poor Miranda." This is all that betrays the sleeper beneath.</p> + +<p>"And this is where they have laid her," she says, with a sigh. "Poor +Miranda! like me, she was lost to this world. The world only knew the +worst of her." And the tears that steal from her eyes tell the tale of +her affection. "Heaven will deal kindly with the outcast, for Heaven +only knows her sorrows." She rises quickly from her seat, casts a glance +over the avenue, then pats the sods with her hands, and strews cypress +branches and flowers over the grave, saying, "This is the last of poor +Miranda. Some good friend has laid her here, and we are separated +forever. It was misfortune that made us friends." She turns slowly from +the spot, and walks down the avenue towards the great gate leading to +the city. A shadow crosses her path; she hesitates, and looks with an +air of surprise as the tall figure of a man advances hastily, saying, +"Welcome, sweet Anna—welcome home."</p> + +<p>He extends his gloved hand, which she receives with evident reluctance. +"Pray what brought you here, Mr. Snivel?" she inquires, fixing her eyes +on him, suspiciously.</p> + +<p>"If you would not take it impertinent, I might ask you the same +question. No, I will not. It was your charms, sweetest Anna. Love can +draw me—I am a worshipper at its fountain. And as for law,—you know I +live by that."</p> + +<p>Mr. Snivel is what may be called a light comedy lawyer; ready to enter +the service of any friend in need. He is commonly called "Snivel the +lawyer," although the profession regard him with suspicion, and society +keeps him on its out skirts. He is, in a word, a sportsman of small +game, ready to bring down any sort of bird that chances within reach of +his fowling-piece. He is tall of figure and slender, a pink of fashion +in dress, wears large diamonds, an eye-glass, and makes the most of a +light, promising moustache. His face is small, sharp, and discolored +with the sun, his eyes grey and restless, his hair fair, his mouth wide +and characterless. Cunning and low intrigue are marked in every feature +of his face; and you look in vain for the slightest evidence of a frank +and manly nature.</p> + +<p>"Only heard you were home an hour ago. Set right off in pursuit of you. +Cannot say exactly what impelled me. Love, perhaps, as I said before." +Mr. Snivel twirls his hat in the air, and condescends to say he feels in +an exceedingly happy state of mind. "I knew you needed a protector, and +came to offer myself as your escort. I take this occasion to say, that +you have always seen me in the false light my enemies magnify me in."</p> + +<p>"I have no need of your escort, Mr. Snivel; and your friendship I can +dispense with, since, up to this time, it has only increased my +trouble," she interposes, continuing down the avenue.</p> + +<p>"We all need friends——"</p> + +<p>"True friends, you mean, Mr. Snivel."</p> + +<p>"Well, then, have it so. You hold that all is false in men. I hold no +such thing. Come, give me your confidence, Anna. Look on the bright +side. Forget the past, and let the present serve. When you want a +friend, or a job of law, call on me." Mr. Snivel adjusts his eye-glass, +and again twirls his hat.</p> + +<p>The fair girl shakes her head and says, "she hopes never to need either. +But, tell me, Mr. Snivel, are you not the messenger of some one else?" +she continues.</p> + +<p>"Well, I confess," he replies, with a bow, "its partly so and partly not +so. I came to put in one word for myself and two for the judge. Its no +breach of confidence to say he loves you to distraction. At home in any +court, you know, and stands well with the bar——"</p> + +<p>"Love for me! He can have no love for me. I am but an outcast, tossed on +the sea of uncertainty; all bright to-day, all darkness to-morrow. Our +life is a stream of excitement, down which we sail quickly to a +miserable death. I know the doom, and feel the pang. But men do not love +us, and the world never regrets us. Go, tell him to forget me."</p> + +<p>"Forget you? not he. Sent me to say he would meet you to-night. You are +at the house of Madame Flamingo, eh?"</p> + +<p>"I am; and sorry am I that I am. Necessity has no choice."</p> + +<p>"You have left Mulholland behind, eh? Never was a fit companion for you. +Can say that without offence. He is a New York rough, you know. +Charleston gentlemen have a holy dislike of such fellows."</p> + +<p>"He has been good to me. Why should I forsake him for one who affects to +love me to-day, and will loathe me to-morrow? He has been my only true +friend. Heaven may smile on us some day, and give us enough to live a +life of virtue and love. As for the mystery that separates me from my +parents, that had better remain unsolved forever." As she says this, +they pass out of the great gate, and are on the road to the city.</p> + +<p>A darker scene is being enacted in a different part of the city. A grim +old prison, its walls, like the state's dignity, tumbling down and going +to decay; its roof black with vegetating moss, and in a state of +dilapidation generally,—stands, and has stood for a century or more, on +the western outskirts of the city. We have a strange veneration for this +damp old prison, with its strange histories cut on its inner walls. It +has been threatening to tumble down one of these days, and it does not +say much for our civilization that we have let it stand. But the +question is asked, and by grave senators, if we pull it down, what shall +we do with our pick-pockets and poor debtors? We mix them nicely up +here, and throw in a thief for a messmate. What right has a poor debtor +to demand that the sovereign state of South Carolina make a distinction +between poverty and crime? It pays fifteen cents a day for getting them +all well starved; and there its humanity ends, as all state humanity +should end.</p> + +<p>The inner iron gate has just closed, and two sturdy constables have +dragged into the corridor a man, or what liquor has left of a man, and +left him prostrate and apparently insensible on the floor. "Seventh time +we've bring'd him 'ere a thin two months. Had to get a cart, or Phin and +me never'd a got him 'ere," says one of the men, drawing a long breath, +and dusting the sleeves of his coat with his hands.</p> + +<p>"An officer earns what money he gits a commitin' such a cove," says the +other, shaking his head, and looking down resentfully at the man on the +floor. "Life'll go out on him like a kan'l one of these days." Officer +continues moralizing on the bad results of liquor, and deliberately +draws a commitment from his breast pocket. "Committed by Justice +Snivel—breaking the peace at the house of Madame——" He cannot make +out the name.</p> + +<p>First officer interposes learnedly—"Madame Flamingo." "Sure enuf, he's +been playin' his shines at the old woman's house again. Why, Master +Jailer, Justice Snivel must a made fees enuf a this 'ere cove to make a +man rich enough," continues Mr. Constable Phin.</p> + +<p>"As unwelcome a guest as comes to this establishment," rejoins the +corpulent old jailer, adjusting his spectacles, and reading the +commitment, a big key hanging from the middle finger of his left hand. +"Used to be sent up here by his mother, to be starved into reform. He is +past reform. The poor-house is the place to send him to, 'tis."</p> + +<p>"Well, take good care on him, Master Jailer, now you've got him. He +comes of a good enough family," says the first officer.</p> + +<p>"He's bin in this condition more nor a week—layin' down yonder, in Snug +Harbor. Liquor's drived all the sense out on him," rejoins the +second—and bidding the jailer good-morning, they retire.</p> + +<p>The forlorn man still lies prostrate on the floor, his tattered garments +and besotted face presenting a picture of the most abject wretchedness. +The old jailer looks down upon him with an air of sympathy, and shakes +his head.</p> + +<p>"The doctor that can cure you doesn't live in this establishment," he +says. The sound of a voice singing a song is heard, and the figure of a +powerfully framed man, dressed in a red shirt and grey homespun +trousers, advances, folds his arms deliberately, and contemplates with +an air of contempt the prostrate man. His broad red face, flat nose, +massive lips, and sharp grey eyes, his crispy red hair, bristling over a +low narrow forehead, and two deep scars on the left side of his face, +present a picture of repulsiveness not easily described. Silently and +sullenly he contemplates the object before him for several minutes, then +says:</p> + +<p>"Dogs take me, Mister Jailer! but he's what I calls run to the dogs. +That's what whisky's did for him."</p> + +<p>"And what it will do for you one of these days," interrupts the jailer, +admonishingly. "Up for disturbing the peace at Madame Flamingo's. +Committed by Justice Snivel."</p> + +<p>"Throwing stones by way of repentance, eh? Tom was, at one time, as good +a customer as that house had. A man's welcome at that house when he's up +in the world. He's sure a gittin' kicked out when he is down."</p> + +<p>"He's here, and we must get him to a cell," says the jailer, setting his +key down and preparing to lift the man on his feet.</p> + +<p>"Look a here, Tom Swiggs,—in here again, eh?" resumes the man in the +red shirt. "Looks as if you liked the institution. Nice son of a +respectable mother, you is!" He stoops down and shakes the prostrate man +violently.</p> + +<p>The man opens his eyes, and casts a wild glance on the group of wan +faces peering eagerly at him. "I am bad enough. You are no better than +me," he whispers. "You are always here."</p> + +<p>"Not always. I am a nine months' guest. In for cribbing voters. Let out +when election day comes round, and paid well for my services. Sent up +when election is over, and friends get few. No moral harm in cribbing +voters. You wouldn't be worth cribbing, eh, Tom? There ain't no +politician what do'nt take off his hat, and say—'Glad to see you, +Mister Mingle,' just afore election." The man folds his arms and walks +sullenly down the corridor, leaving the newcomer to his own reflections. +There is a movement among the group looking on; and a man in the garb of +a sailor advances, presses his way through, and seizing the prostrate by +the hand, shakes it warmly and kindly. "Sorry to see you in here agin, +Tom," he says, his bronzed face lighting up with the fires of a generous +heart. "There's no man in this jail shall say a word agin Tom Swiggs. We +have sailed shipmates in this old craft afore."</p> + +<p>The man was a sailor, and the prisoner's called him Spunyarn, by way of +shortness. Indeed, he had became so familiarized to the name, that he +would answer to none other. His friendship for the inebriate was of the +most sincere kind. He would watch over him, and nurse him into sobriety, +with the care and tenderness of a brother. "Tom was good to me, when he +had it;" he says, with an air of sympathy. "And here goes for lendin' a +hand to a shipmate in distress." He takes one arm and the jailer the +other, and together they support the inebriate to his cell. "Set me down +for a steady boarder, and have done with it," the forlorn man mutters, +as they lay him gently upon the hard cot. "Down for steady board, +jailer—that's it."</p> + +<p>"Steady, steady now," rejoins the old sailor, as the inebriate tosses +his arms over his head. "You see, there's a heavy ground swell on just +now, and a chap what don't mind his helm is sure to get his spars +shivered." He addresses the the jailer, who stands looking with an air +of commiseration on the prostrate man. "Take in head-sail—furl +top-gallant-sails—reef topsails—haul aft main-sheet—put her helm +hard down—bring her to the wind, and there let her lay until it comes +clear weather." The man writhes and turns his body uneasily. "There, +there," continues the old sailor, soothingly; "steady, steady,—keep her +away a little, then let her luff into a sound sleep. Old Spunyarn's the +boy what'll stand watch." A few minutes more and the man is in a deep, +sound sleep, the old sailor keeping watch over him so kindly, so like a +true friend.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h3>CHAPTER II.</h3> + +<p class='center' style='font-size:smaller'>THE HOUSE OF A VERY DISTINGUISHED LADY.</p> + + +<p>The mansion of Madame Flamingo stands stately in Berresford street. An +air of mystery hangs over it by day, and it is there young Charleston +holds high carnival at night. It is a very distinguished house, and +Madame Flamingo assures us she is a very distinguished lady, who means +to make her peace with heaven before she dies, and bestow largely on the +priests, who have promised to make her comfortable while on the road +through purgatory. The house is in high favor with young Charleston, and +old Charleston looks in now and then. Our city fathers have great +sympathy for it, and protect it with their presence. Verily it is a +great gate on the road to ruin, and thousands pass heedlessly through +its decorated walks, quickly reaching the dark end.</p> + +<p>It is evening, and thin fleecy clouds flit along the heavens. The gas +sheds a pale light over the streets, and shadowy figures pass and repass +us as we turn into the narrow street leading to the house of the old +hostess. We have reached the great arched door, and stand in the shadow +of a gas-light, playing over its trap, its network of iron, and its +bright, silver plate. We pause and contemplate the massive walls, as the +thought flashes upon us—How mighty is vice, that it has got such a +mansion dedicated to its uses! Even stranger thoughts than these flit +through the mind as we hesitate, and touch the bell timidly. Now, we +have excited your curiosity, and shall not turn until we have shown you +what there is within.</p> + +<p>We hear the bell faintly tinkle—now voices in loud conversation break +upon the ear—then all is silent. Our anxiety increases, and keeps +increasing, until a heavy footstep is heard advancing up the hall. Now +there is a whispering within—then a spring clicks, and a small square +panel opens and is filled with a broad fat face, with deep blue eyes and +a profusion of small brown curls, all framed in a frosty cap-border. It +is the old hostess, done up in her best book muslin, and so well +preserved.</p> + +<p>"Gentlemen, or ain't ye gentlemen?" inquires the old hostess, in a low +voice. "This is a respectable house, I'd have you remember. Gentlemen +what ain't gentlemen don't git no show in this house—no they don't." +She looks curiously at us, and pauses for a reply. The display of a kid +glove and a few assuring words gain us admittance into the great hall, +where a scene of barbaric splendor excites curious emotions. "There +ain't nothin' but gentlemen gets into this house—they don't! and when +they are in they behaves like gentlemen," says the hostess, bowing +gracefully, and closing the door after us.</p> + +<p>The time prints of sixty summers have furrowed the old hostess' brow, +and yet she seems not more than forty—is short of figure, and weighs +two hundred. Soft Persian carpets cover the floor, lounges, in carved +walnut and satin, stand along the sides; marble busts on pedestals, and +full-length figures of statesmen and warriors are interspersed at short +intervals; and the ceiling is frescoed in uncouth and fierce-looking +figures. Flowers hang from niches in the cornice; a marble group, +representing St. George and the dragon, stands at the foot of a broad +circular stairs; tall mirrors reflect and magnify each object, and over +all the gas from three chandeliers sheds a bewitching light. Such is the +gaudy scene that excites the fancy, but leaves our admiration unmoved.</p> + +<p>"This is a castle, and a commonwealth, gentlemen. Cost me a deal of +money; might get ruined if gentlemen forgot how to conduct themselves. +Ladies like me don't get much credit for the good they do. Gentlemen +will be introduced into the parlor when they are ready," says the old +hostess, stepping briskly round us, and watching our every movement; we +are new-comers, and her gaudy tabernacle is novel to us.</p> + +<p>"Have educated a dozen young men to the law, and made gentlemen of a +dozen more, excellent young men—fit for any society. Don't square my +accounts with the world, as the world squares its account with me," she +continues, with that air which vice affects while pleading its own +cause. She cannot shield the war of conscience that is waging in her +heart; but, unlike most of those engaged in her unnatural trade, there +is nothing in her face to indicate a heart naturally inclined to evil. +It is indeed bright with smiles, and you see only the picture of a being +sailing calmly down the smooth sea of peace and contentment. Her dress +is of black glossy satin, a cape of fine point lace covers her broad +shoulders, and bright blue cap-ribbons stream down her back.</p> + +<p>"Listen," says the old hostess—"there's a full house to-night. Both +parlors are full. All people of good society!" she continues, +patronizingly. "Them what likes dancin' dances in the left-hand parlor. +Them what prefers to sit and converse, converses in the right-hand +parlor. Some converses about religion, some converses about +politics—(by way of lettin' you know my position, I may say that I go +for secession, out and out)—some converses about law, some converses +about beauty. There isn't a lady in this house as can't converse on +anything." Madame places her ear to the door, and thrusts her fat +jewelled fingers under her embroidered apron.</p> + +<p>"This is my best parlor, gentlemen," she resumes; "only gentlemen of +deportment are admitted—I might add, them what takes wine, and, if they +does get a little in liquor, never loses their dignity." Madame bows, +and the door of her best parlor swings open, discovering a scene of +still greater splendor.</p> + +<p>"Gentlemen as can't enjoy themselves in my house, don't know how to +enjoy anything. Them is all gentlemen you see, and them is all ladies +you see," says the hostess, as we advance timidly into the room, the air +of which is sickly of perfumes. The foot falls upon the softest of +carpets; quaint shadows, from stained-glass windows are flitting and +dancing on the frescoed ceiling; curtains of finest brocade, enveloped +in lace, fall cloud-like down the windows. The borderings are of +amber-colored satin, and heavy cornices, over which eagles in gilt are +perched, surmount the whole. Pictures no artist need be ashamed of +decorate the walls, groups in bronze and Parian, stand on pedestals +between the windows, and there is a regal air about the furniture, which +is of the most elaborate workmanship. But the living figures moving to +and fro, some in uncouth dresses and some scarce dressed at all, and all +reflected in the great mirrors, excite the deepest interest. Truly it is +here that vice has arrayed itself in fascinating splendors, and the +young and the old have met to pay it tribute. The reckless youth meets +the man high in power here. The grave exchange salutations with the gay. +Here the merchant too often meets his clerk, and the father his son. +And before this promiscuous throng women in bright but scanty drapery, +and wan faces, flaunt their charms.</p> + +<p>Sitting on a sofa, is the fair young girl we saw at the cemetery. By her +side is a man of venerable presence, endeavoring to engage her in +conversation. Her face is shadowed in a pensive smile;—she listens to +what falls from the lips of her companion, shakes her head negatively, +and watches the movements of a slender, fair-haired young man, who +saunters alone on the opposite side of the room. He has a deep interest +in the fair girl, and at every turn casts a look of hate and scorn at +her companion, who is no less a person than Judge Sleepyhorn, of this +history.</p> + +<p>"Hain't no better wine nowhere, than's got in this house," ejaculates +the old hostess, calling our attention to a massive side-board, covered +with cut-glass of various kinds. "A gentleman what's a gentleman may get +a little tipsy, providin' he do it on wine as is kept in this house, and +carry himself square." Madame motions patronizingly with her hand, bows +condescendingly, and says, "Two bottles I think you ordered, +gentlemen—what gentlemen generally call for."</p> + +<p>Having bowed assent, and glad to get off so cheaply, Manfredo, a slave +in bright livery, is directed to bring it in.</p> + +<p>Mr. Snivel enters, to the great delight of the old hostess and various +friends of the house. "Mr. Snivel is the spirit of this house," resumes +the old hostess, by way of introduction; "a gentleman of distinction in +the law." She turns to Mr. Snivel inquiringly. "You sent that ruffin, +Tom Swiggs, up for me to-day?"</p> + +<p>"Lord bless you, yes—gave him two months for contemplation. Get well +starved at fifteen cents a day——"</p> + +<p>"Sorry for the fellow," interrupts the old hostess, sympathizingly. +"That's what comes a drinkin' bad liquor. Tom used to be a first-rate +friend of this house—spent heaps of money, and we all liked him so. +Tried hard to make a man of Tom. Couldn't do it." Madame shakes her head +in sadness. "Devil got into him, somehow. Ran down, as young men will +when they gets in the way. I does my part to save them, God knows." A +tear almost steals into Madame's eyes. "When Tom used to come here, +looking so down, I'd give him a few dollars, and get him to go somewhere +else. Had to keep up the dignity of the house, you know. A man as takes +his liquor as Tom does ain't fit company for my house."</p> + +<p>Mr. Snivel says: "As good advice, which I am bound to give his mother, I +shall say she'd better give him steady lodgings in jail." He turns and +recognizes his friend, the judge, and advances towards him. As he does +so, Anna rises quickly to her feet, and with a look of contempt, +addressing the judge, says, "Never, never. You deceived me once, you +never shall again. You ask me to separate myself from him. No, never, +never." And as she turns to walk away the judge seizes her by the hand, +and retains her. "You must not go yet," he says.</p> + +<p>"She shall go!" exclaims the fair young man, who has been watching their +movements. "Do you know me? I am the George Mulholland you are plotting +to send to the whipping-post,—to accomplish your vile purposes. No, +sir, I am not the man you took me for, as I would show you were it not +for your grey hairs." He releases her from the judge's grasp, and stands +menacing that high old functionary with his finger. "I care not for your +power. Take this girl from me, and you pay the penalty with your life. +We are equals here. Release poor Langdon from prison, and go pay +penance over the grave of his poor wife. It's the least you can do. You +ruined her—you can't deny it." Concluding, he clasps the girl in his +arms, to the surprise of all present, and rushes with her out of the +house.</p> + +<p>The house of Madame Flamingo is in a very distinguished state of +commotion. Men sensitive of their reputations, and fearing the presence +of the police, have mysteriously disappeared. Madame is in a fainting +condition, and several of her heroic damsels have gone screaming out of +the parlor, and have not been seen since.</p> + +<p>Matters have quieted down now. Mr. Snivel consoles the judge for the +loss of dignity he has suffered, Madame did not quite faint, and there +is peace in the house.</p> + +<p>Manfredo, his countenance sullen, brings in the wine. Manfredo is in bad +temper to-night. He uncorks the bottles and lets the wine foam over the +table, the sight of which sends Madame into a state of distress.</p> + +<p>"This is all I gets for putting such good livery on you!" she says, +pushing him aside with great force. "That's thirty-nine for you in the +morning, well-laid on. You may prepare for it. Might have known better +(Madame modifies her voice) than buy a nigger of a clergyman!" She +commences filling the glasses herself, again addressing Manfredo, the +slave: "Don't do no good to indulge you. This is the way you pay me for +lettin' you go to church of a Sunday. Can't give a nigger religion +without his gettin' a big devil in him at the same time."</p> + +<p>Manfredo passes the wine to her guests, in sullen silence, and they +drink to the prosperity of the house.</p> + +<p>And now it is past midnight; the music in the next parlor has ceased, +St. Michael's clock has struck the hour of one, and business is at an +end in the house of the old hostess. A few languid-looking guests still +remain, the old hostess is weary with the fatigues of the night, and +even the gas seems to burn dimmer. The judge and Mr. Snivel are the last +to take their departure, and bid the hostess good-night. "I could not +call the fellow out," says the judge, as they wend their way into King +street. "I can only effect my purpose by getting him into my power. To +do that you must give me your assistance."</p> + +<p>"Remain silent on that point," returns the other. "You have only to +leave its management to me. Nothing is easier than to get such a fellow +into the power of the law."</p> + +<p>On turning into King street they encounter a small, youthful looking +man, hatless and coatless, his figure clearly defined in the shadows of +the gas-light, engaged in a desperate combat with the lamp-post. "Now, +Sir, defend yourself, and do it like a man, for you have the reputation +of being a craven coward," says the man, cutting and thrusting furiously +at the lamp-post; Snivel and Sleepyhorn pause, and look on astonished. +"Truly the poor man's mad," says Sleepyhorn, touching his companion on +the arm—"uncommonly mad for the season."</p> + +<p>Mr. Snivel whispers, "Not so mad. Only courageously tight." "Gentlemen!" +says the man, reproachfully, "I am neither mad nor drunk." Here he +strikes an attitude of defence, cutting one, two, and three with his +small sword. "I am Mister Midshipman Button—no madman, not a bit of it. +As brave a man as South Carolina ever sent into the world. A man of +pluck, Sir, and genuine, at that." Again he turns and makes several +thrusts at the lamp-post, demanding that it surrender and get down on +its knees, in abject obedience to superior prowess.</p> + +<p>"Button, Button, my dear fellow, is it you? What strange freak is this?" +inquires Mr. Snivel, extending his hand, which the little energetic man +refuses to take.</p> + +<p>"Mister Midshipman Button, if you please, gentlemen," replies the man, +with an air of offended dignity. "I'm a gentleman, a man of honor, and +what's more, a Carolinian bred and born, or born and bred—cut it as you +like it." He makes several powerful blows at the lamp-post, and succeeds +only in breaking his sword.</p> + +<p>"Poor man," says the judge, kindly, "he is in need of friends to take +care of him, and advise him properly. He has not far to travel before he +gets into the mad-house."</p> + +<p>The man overhears his remarks, and with a vehement gesture and flourish +of his broken sword, says, "Do you not see, gentlemen, what work I have +made of this Northern aggressor, this huge enemy bringing oppression to +our very doors?" He turns and addresses the lamp-post in a tone of +superiority. "Surrender like a man, and confess yourself vanquished, +Northern aggressor that you are! You see, gentlemen, I have gained a +victory—let all his bowels out. Honor all belongs to my native state—I +shall resign it all to her." Here the man begins to talk in so wild a +strain, and to make so many demands of his imaginary enemy, that they +called a passing guardsman, who, seeing his strange condition, replaced +his hat, and assisted them in getting him to a place of safety for the +night, when sleep and time would restore him to a sound state of mind.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h3>CHAPTER III.</h3> + +<p class='center' style='font-size:smaller'>IN WHICH THE READER IS PRESENTED WITH A VARIED PICTURE.</p> + + +<p>Tom has passed a restless night in jail. He has dreamed of bottled +snakes, with eyes wickedly glaring at him; of fiery-tailed serpents +coiling all over him; of devils in shapes he has no language to +describe; of the waltz of death, in which he danced at the mansion of +Madame Flamingo; and of his mother, (a name ever dear in his thoughts,) +who banished him to this region of vice, for what she esteemed a moral +infirmity. Further on in his dream he saw a vision, a horrible vision, +which was no less than a dispute for his person between Madame Flamingo, +a bishop, and the devil. But Madame Flamingo and the devil, who seemed +to enjoy each other's company exceedingly, got the better of the bishop, +who was scrupulous of his dignity, and not a little anxious about being +seen in such society. And from the horrors of this dream he wakes, +surprised to find himself watched over by a kind friend—a young, +comely-featured man, in whom he recognizes the earnest theologian, as he +is plumed by the prisoners, whom he daily visits in his mission of good. +There was something so frank and gentle in this young man's +demeanor—something so manly and radiant in his countenance—something +so disinterested and holy in his mission of love—something so opposite +to the coldness of the great world without—something so serene and +elevated in his youth, that even the most inveterate criminal awaited +his coming with emotions of joy, and gave a ready ear to his kindly +advice. Indeed, the prisoners called him their child; and he seemed not +dainty of their approach, but took them each by the hand, sat at their +side, addressed them as should one brother address another;—yea, he +made them to feel that what was their interest it was his joy to +promote.</p> + +<p>The young theologian took him a seat close by the side of the dreaming +inebriate; and as he woke convulsively, and turned towards him his +distorted face, viewing with wild stare each object that met his sight, +the young man met his recognition with a smile and a warm grasp of the +hand. "I am sorry you find me here again—yes, I am."</p> + +<p>"Better men, perhaps, have been here—"</p> + +<p>"I am ashamed of it, though; it isn't as it should be, you see," +interrupts Tom.</p> + +<p>"Never mind—(the young man checks himself)—I was going to say there is +a chance for you yet; and there is a chance; and you must struggle; and +I will help you to struggle; and your friends—"</p> + +<p>Tom interrupts by saying, "I've no friends."</p> + +<p>"I will help you to struggle, and to overcome the destroyer. Never think +you are friendless, for then you are a certain victim in the hands of +the ruthless enemy—"</p> + +<p>"Well, well," pauses Tom, casting a half-suspicious look at the young +man, "I forgot. There's you, and him they call old Spunyarn, are +friends, after all. You'll excuse me, but I didn't think of that;" and a +feeling of satisfaction seemed to have come over him. "How grateful to +have friends when a body's in a place of this kind," he mutters +incoherently, as the tears gush from his distended eyes, and childlike +he grasps the hand of the young man.</p> + +<p>"Be comforted with the knowledge that you have friends, Tom. One +all-important thing is wanted, and you are a man again."</p> + +<p>"As to that!" interrupts Tom, doubtingly, and laying his begrimed hand +on his burning forehead, while he alternately frets and frisks his +fingers through his matted hair.</p> + +<p>"Have no doubts, Tom—doubts are dangerous."</p> + +<p>"Well, say what it is, and I'll try what I can do. But you won't think +I'm so bad as I seem, and'll forgive me? I know what you think of me, +and that's what mortifies me; you think I'm an overdone specimen of our +chivalry—you do!"</p> + +<p>"You must banish from your mind these despairing thoughts," replies the +young man, laying his right hand approvingly on Tom's head. "First, +Tom," he pursues, "be to yourself a friend; second, forget the error of +your mother, and forgive her sending you here; and third, cut the house +of Madame Flamingo, in which our chivalry are sure to get a shattering. +To be honest in temptation, Tom, is one of the noblest attributes of our +nature; and to be capable of forming and maintaining a resolution to +shake off the thraldom of vice, and to place oneself in the serener +atmosphere of good society, is equally worthy of the highest +commendation."</p> + +<p>Tom received this in silence, and seemed hesitating between what he +conceived an imperative demand and the natural inclination of his +passions.</p> + +<p> +"Give me your hand, and with it your honor—I know you yet retain +the latent spark—and promise me you will lock up the<br /> cup—" +</p> + +<p>"You'll give a body a furlough, by the way of blowing off the fuddle he +has on hand?"</p> + +<p>"I do not withhold from you any discretionary indulgence that may bring +relief—"</p> + +<p>Tom interrupts by saying, "My mother, you know!"</p> + +<p>"I will see her, and plead with her on your behalf; and if she have a +mother's feelings I can overcome her prejudice."</p> + +<p>Tom says, despondingly, he has no home to go to. It's no use seeing his +mother; she's all dignity, and won't let it up an inch. "If I could only +persuade her—" Tom pauses here and shakes his head.</p> + +<p>"Pledge me your honor you'll from this day form a resolution to reform, +Tom; and if I do not draw from your mother a reconciliation, I will seek +a home for you elsewhere."</p> + +<p>"Well, there can't be much harm in an effort, at all events; and here's +my hand, in sincerity. But it won't do to shut down until I get over +this bit of a fog I'm now in." With childlike simplicity, Tom gives his +hand to the young man, who, as old Spunyarn enters the cell to, as he +says, get the latitude of his friend's nerves, departs in search of Mrs. +Swiggs.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Swiggs is the stately old member of a crispy old family, that, like +numerous other families in the State, seem to have outlived two +chivalrous generations, fed upon aristocracy, and are dying out +contemplating their own greatness. Indeed, the Swiggs family, while it +lived and enjoyed the glory of its name, was very like the Barnwell +family of this day, who, one by one, die off with the very pardonable +and very harmless belief that the world never can get along without the +aid of South Carolina, it being the parthenon from which the outside +world gets all its greatness. Her leading and very warlike newspapers, +(the people of these United States ought to know, if they do not +already,) it was true, were editorialized, as it was politely called in +the little State-militant, by a species of unreputationized Jew and +Yankee; but this you should know—if you do not already, gentle +reader—that it is only because such employments are regarded by the +lofty-minded chivalry as of too vulgar a nature to claim a place in +their attention.</p> + +<p>The clock of old Saint Michaels, a clock so tenacious of its dignity as +to go only when it pleases, and so aristocratic in its habits as not to +go at all in rainy weather;—a clock held in great esteem by the "very +first families," has just struck eleven. The young, pale-faced +missionary inquiringly hesitates before a small, two-story building of +wood, located on the upper side of Church street, and so crabbed in +appearance that you might, without endangering your reputation, have +sworn it had incorporated in its framework a portion of that chronic +disease for which the State has gained for itself an unenviable +reputation. Jutting out of the black, moss-vegetating roof, is an +old-maidish looking window, with a dowdy white curtain spitefully tucked +up at the side. The mischievous young negroes have pecked half the +bricks out of the foundation, and with them made curious grottoes on the +pavement. Disordered and unpainted clapboards spread over the dingy +front, which is set off with two upper and two lower windows, all +blockaded with infirm, green shutters. Then there is a snuffy door, +high and narrow (like the State's notions), and reached by six venerable +steps and a stoop, carefully guarded with a pine hand-rail, fashionably +painted in blue, and looking as dainty as the State's white glove. This, +reader, is the abode of the testy but extremely dignified Mrs. Swiggs. +If you would know how much dignity can be crowded into the smallest +space, you have only to look in here and be told (she closely patterns +after the State in all things!) that fifty-five summers of her crispy +life have been spent here, reading Milton's Paradise Lost and +contemplating the greatness of her departed family.</p> + +<p>The old steps creak and complain as the young man ascends them, holding +nervously on at the blue hand-rail, and reaching in due time the stoop, +the strength of which he successively tests with his right foot, and +stands contemplating the snuffy door. A knocker painted in villanous +green—a lion-headed knocker, of grave deportment, looking as savage as +lion can well do in this chivalrous atmosphere, looks admonitiously at +him. "Well!" he sighs as he raises it, "there's no knowing what sort of +a reception I may get." He has raised the monster's head and given three +gentle taps. Suddenly a frisking and whispering, shutting of doors and +tripping of feet, is heard within; and after a lapse of several minutes +the door swings carefully open, and the dilapidated figure of an old +negro woman, lean, shrunken, and black as Egyptian darkness—with +serious face and hanging lip, the picture of piety and starvation, +gruffly asks who he is and what he wants?</p> + +<p>Having requested an interview with her mistress, this decrepit specimen +of human infirmity half closes the door against him and doddles back. A +slight whispering, and Mrs. Swiggs is heard to say—"show him into the +best parlor." And into the best parlor, and into the august presence of +Mrs. Swiggs is he ushered. The best parlor is a little, dingy room, low +of ceiling, and skirted with a sombre-colored surbase, above which is +papering, the original color of which it would be difficult to discover. +A listen carpet, much faded and patched, spreads over the floor, the +walls are hung with several small engravings, much valued for their age +and associations, but so crooked as to give one the idea of the house +having withstood a storm at sea; and the furniture is made up of a few +venerable mahogany chairs, a small side-table, on which stands, much +disordered, several well-worn books and papers, two patch-covered +foot-stools, a straight-backed rocking-chair, in which the august woman +rocks her straighter self, and a great tin cage, from between the bars +of which an intelligent parrot chatters—"my lady, my lady, my lady!" +There is a cavernous air about the place, which gives out a sickly odor, +exciting the suggestion that it might at some time have served as a +receptacle for those second-hand coffins the State buries its poor in.</p> + +<p>"Well! who are you? And what do you want? You have brought letters, I +s'pose?" a sharp, squeaking voice, speaks rapidly.</p> + +<p>The young man, without waiting for an invitation to sit down, takes +nervously a seat at the side-table, saying he has come on a mission of +love.</p> + +<p>"Love! love! eh? Young man—know that you have got into the wrong +house!" Mrs. Swiggs shakes her head, squeaking out with great animation.</p> + +<p>There she sits, Milton's "Paradise Lost" in her witch-like fingers, +herself lean enough for the leanest of witches, and seeming to have +either shrunk away from the faded black silk dress in which she is clad, +or passed through half a century of starvation merely to bolster up her +dignity. A sharp, hatchet-face, sallow and corrugated; two wicked gray +eyes, set deep in bony sockets; a long, irregular nose, midway of which +is adjusted a pair of broad, brass-framed spectacles; a sunken, +purse-drawn mouth, with two discolored teeth protruding from her upper +lip; a high, narrow forehead, resembling somewhat crumpled parchment; a +dash of dry, brown hair relieving the ponderous border of her +steeple-crowned cap, which she seems to have thrown on her head in a +hurry; a moth-eaten, red shawl thrown spitefully over her shoulders, +disclosing a sinewy and sassafras-colored neck above, and the small end +of a gold chain in front, and, reader, you have the august Mrs. Swiggs, +looking as if she diets on chivalry and sour krout. She is indeed a nice +embodiment of several of those qualities which the State clings +tenaciously to, and calls its own, for she lives on the labor of eleven +aged negroes, five of whom are cripples.</p> + +<p>The young man smiles, as Mrs. Swiggs increases the velocity of her +rocking, lays her right hand on the table, rests her left on her Milton, +and continues to reiterate that he has got into the wrong house.</p> + +<p>"I have no letter, Madam—"</p> + +<p>"I never receive people without letters—never!" again she interrupts, +testily.</p> + +<p>"But you see, Madam—"</p> + +<p>"No I don't. I don't see anything about it!" again she interposes, +adjusting her spectacles, and scanning him anxiously from head to foot. +"Ah, yes (she twitches her head), I see what you are—"</p> + +<p>"I was going to say, if you please, Madam, that my mission may serve as +a passport—"</p> + +<p>"I'm of a good family, you must know, young man. You could have learned +that of anybody before seeking this sort of an introduction. Any of our +first families could have told you about me. You must go your way, young +man!" And she twitches her head, and pulls closer about her lean +shoulders the old red shawl.</p> + +<p>"I (if you will permit me, Madam) am not ignorant of the very high +standing of your famous family—" Madam interposes by saying, every +muscle of her frigid face unmoved the while, she is glad he knows +something, "having read of them in a celebrated work by one of our more +celebrated genealogists—"</p> + +<p>"But you should have brought a letter from the Bishop! and upon that +based your claims to a favorable reception. Then you have read of Sir +Sunderland Swiggs, my ancestor? Ah! he was such a Baron, and owned such +estates in the days of Elizabeth. But you should have brought a letter, +young man." Mrs. Swiggs replies rapidly, alternately raising and +lowering her squeaking voice, twitching her head, and grasping tighter +her Milton.</p> + +<p>"Those are his arms and crest." She points with her Milton to a singular +hieroglyphic, in a wiry black frame, resting on the marble-painted +mantelpiece. "He was very distinguished in his time; and such an +excellent Christian." She shakes her head and wipes the tears from her +spectacles, as her face, which had before seemed carved in wormwood, +slightly relaxes the hardness of its muscles.</p> + +<p>"I remember having seen favorable mention of Sir Sunderland's name in +the book I refer to—"</p> + +<p>She again interposes. The young man watches her emotions with a +penetrating eye, conscious that he has touched a chord in which all the +milk of kindness is not dried up.</p> + +<p>"It's a true copy of the family arms. Everybody has got to having arms +now-a-days. (She points to the indescribable scrawl over the +mantelpiece.) It was got through Herald King, of London, who they say +keeps her Majesty's slippers and the great seal of State. We were very +exact, you see. Yes, sir—we were very exact. Our vulgar people, you +see—I mean such as have got up by trade, and that sort of thing—went +to a vast expense in sending to England a man of great learning and much +aforethought, to ransack heraldry court and trace out their families. +Well, he went, lived very expensively, spent several years abroad, and +being very clever in his way, returned, bringing them all pedigrees of +the very best kind. With only two exceptions, he traced them all down +into noble blood. These two, the cunning fellow had it, came of martyrs. +And to have come of the blood of martyrs, when all the others, as was +shown, came of noble blood, so displeased—the most ingenious (the old +lady shakes her head regrettingly) can't please everybody—the living +members of these families, that they refused to pay the poor man for his +researches, so he was forced to resort to a suit at law. And to this day +(I don't say it disparagingly of them!) both families stubbornly refuse +to accept the pedigree. They are both rich grocers, you see! and on this +account we were very particular about ours."</p> + +<p>The young man thought it well not to interrupt the old woman's display +of weakness, inasmuch as it might produce a favorable change in her +feelings.</p> + +<p>"And now, young man, what mission have you besides love?" she inquires, +adding an encouraging look through her spectacles.</p> + +<p>"I am come to intercede—"</p> + +<p>"You needn't talk of interceding with me; no you needn't! I've nothing +to intercede about"—she twitches her head spitefully.</p> + +<p>"In behalf of your son."</p> + +<p>"There—there! I knew there was some mischief. You're a Catholic! I knew +it. Never saw one of your black-coated flock about that there wasn't +mischief brewing—never! I can't read my Milton in peace for you—"</p> + +<p>"But your son is in prison, Madam, among criminals, and subject to the +influence of their habits—"</p> + +<p>"Precisely where I put him—where he won't disgrace the family; yes, +where he ought to be, and where he shall rot, for all me. Now, go your +way, young man; and read your Bible at home, and keep out of prisons; +and don't be trying to make Jesuits of hardened scamps like that Tom of +mine."</p> + +<p>"I am a Christian: I would like to extend a Christian's hand to your +son. I may replace him on the holy pedestal he has fallen from—"</p> + +<p>"You are very aggravating, young man. Do you live in South Carolina?"</p> + +<p>The young man says he does. He is proud of the State that can boast so +many excellent families.</p> + +<p>"I am glad of that," she says, looking querulously over her spectacles, +as she twitches her chin, and increases the velocity of her rocking. "I +wonder how folks can live out of it."</p> + +<p>"As to that, Madam, permit me to say, I am happy to see and appreciate +your patriotism; but if you will grant me an order of release—"</p> + +<p>"I won't hear a word now! You're very aggravating, young man—very! He +has disgraced the family; I have put him where he is seven times; he +shall rot were he is! He never shall disgrace the family again. Think of +Sir Sunderland Swiggs, and then think of him, and see what a pretty +level the family has come to! That's the place for him, I have told him +a dozen times how I wished him gone. The quicker he is out of the way, +the better for the name of the family."</p> + +<p>The young man waits the end of this colloquy with a smile on his +countenance. "I have no doubt I can work your son's reform—perhaps make +him an honor to the family—"</p> + +<p>"He honor the family!" she interrupts, twitches the shawl about her +shoulders, and permits herself to get into a state of general +excitement. "I should like to see one who has disgraced the family as +much as he has think of honoring it—"</p> + +<p>"Through kindness and forbearance, Madam, a great deal may be done," the +young man replies.</p> + +<p>"Now, you are very provoking, young man—very. Let other people alone; +go your way home, and study your Bible." And with this the old lady +calls Rebecca, the decrepit slave who opened the door, and directs her +to show the young man out. "There now!" she says testily, turning to the +marked page of her Milton.</p> + +<p>The young man contemplates her for a few moments, but, having no +alternative, leaves reluctantly.</p> + +<p>On reaching the stoop he encounters the tall, handsome figure of a man, +whose face is radiant with smiles, and his features ornamented with +neatly-combed Saxon hair and beard, and who taps the old negress under +the chin playfully, as she says, "Missus will be right glad to see you, +Mr. Snivel—that she will." And he bustles his way laughing into the +presence of the old lady, as if he had news of great importance for +her.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h3>CHAPTER IV.</h3> + +<p class='center' style='font-size:smaller'>A FEW REFLECTIONS ON THE CURE OF VICE.</p> + + +<p>Disappointed, and not a little chagrined, at the failure of his mission, +the young man muses over the next best course to pursue. He has the +inebriate's welfare at heart; he knows there is no state of degradation +so low that the victim cannot, under proper care, be reclaimed from it; +and he feels duty calling loudly to him not to stand trembling on the +brink, but to enter the abode of the victim, and struggle to make clean +the polluted. Vice, he says to himself, is not entailed in the heart; +and if you would modify and correct the feelings inclined to evil, you +must first feed the body, then stimulate the ambition; and when you have +got the ambition right, seek a knowledge of the heart, and apply to it +those mild and judicious remedies which soften its action, and give life +to new thoughts and a higher state of existence. Once create the vine of +moral rectitude, and its branches will soon get where they can take care +of themselves. But to give the vine creation in poor soil, your watching +must exhibit forbearance, and your care a delicate hand. The +stubbornly-inclined nature, when coupled with ignorance, is that in +which vice takes deepest root, as it is, when educated, that against +which vice is least effectual. To think of changing the natural +inclination of such natures with punishment, or harsh correctives, is as +useless as would be an attempt to stop the ebbing and flowing of the +tide. You must nurture the feelings, he thought, create a +susceptibility, get the heart right, by holding out the value of a +better state of things, and make the head to feel that you are sincere +in your work of love; and, above all, you must not forget the stomach, +for if that go empty crime will surely creep into the head. You cannot +correct moral infirmity by confining the victim of it among criminals, +for no greater punishment can be inflicted on the feelings of man; and +punishment destroys rather than encourages the latent susceptibility of +our better nature. In nine cases out of ten, improper punishment makes +the hardened criminals with which your prisons are filled, destroying +forever that spark of ambition which might have been fostered into a +means to higher ends.</p> + +<p>And as the young man thus muses, there recurs to his mind the picture of +old Absalom McArthur, a curious old man, but excessively kind, and +always ready to do "a bit of a good turn for one in need," as he would +say when a needy friend sought his assistance. McArthur is a dealer in +curiosities, is a venerable curiosity himself, and has always something +on hand to meet the wants of a community much given to antiquity and +broken reputations.</p> + +<p>The young theologian will seek this good old man. He feels that time +will work a favorable revolution in the feelings of Tom's mother; and to +be prepared for that happy event he will plead a shelter for him under +McArthur's roof.</p> + +<p>And now, generous reader, we will, with your permission, permit him to +go on his errand of mercy, while we go back and see how Tom prospers at +the old prison. You, we well know, have not much love of prisons. But +unless we do now and then enter them, our conceptions of how much misery +man can inflict upon man will be small indeed.</p> + +<p>The man of sailor-like deportment, and whom the prisoners salute with +the sobriquet of "Old Spunyarn," entered, you will please remember, the +cell, as the young theologian left in search of Mrs. Swiggs, "I thought +I'd just haul my tacks aboard, run up a bit, and see what sort of +weather you were making, Tom," says he, touching clumsily his +small-brimmed, plait hat, as he recognizes the young man, whom he +salutes in that style so frank and characteristic of the craft. "He's a +bit better, sir—isn't he?" inquires Spunyarn, his broad, honest face, +well browned and whiskered, warming with a glow of satisfaction.</p> + +<p>Receiving an answer in the affirmative, he replies he is right glad of +it, not liking to see a shipmate in a drift. And he gives his quid a +lurch aside, throws his hat carelessly upon the floor, shrugs his +shoulders, and as he styles it, nimbly brings himself to a mooring, at +Tom's side. "It's a hard comforter, this state. I don't begrudge your +mother the satisfaction she gets of sending you here. In her eyes, ye +see, yeer fit only to make fees out on, for them ar lawyer chaps. They'd +keep puttin' a body in an' out here during his natural life, just for +the sake of gettin', the fees. They don't care for such things as you +and I. We hain't no rights; and if we had, why we hain't no power. This +carry in' too much head sail, Tom, won't do—'twon't!" Spunyarn shakes +his head reprovingly, fusses over Tom, turns him over on his wales, as +he has it, and finally gets him on his beam's ends, a besotted wreck +unable to carry his canvas. "Lost yeer reckoning eh, Tom?" he continues +as that bewildered individual stares vacantly at him. The inebriate +contorts painfully his face, presses and presses his hands to his +burning forehead, and says they are firing a salute in his head, using +his brains for ammunition.</p> + +<p>"Well, now Tom, seein' as how I'm a friend of yourn—"</p> + +<p>"Friend of mine?" interrupts Tom, shaking his head, and peering through +his fingers mistrustfully.</p> + +<p>"And this is a hard lee shore you've beached upon; I'll lend ye a hand +to get in the head sail, and get the craft trimmed up a little. A dash +of the same brine will help keep the ballast right, then a skysail-yard +breakfast must be carefully stowed away, in order to give a firmness to +the timbers, and on the strength of these two blocks for shoring up the +hull, you must begin little by little, and keep on brightening up until +you have got the craft all right again. And when you have got her right +you must keep her right. I say, Tom!—it won't do. You must reef down, +or the devil'll seize the helm in one of these blows, and run you into a +port too warm for pea-jackets." For a moment, Spunyarn seems half +inclined to grasp Tom by his collarless coat and shake the hydrophobia, +as he calls it, out of him; then, as if incited by a second thought, he +draws from his shirt-bosom a large, wooden comb, and humming a tune +commences combing and fussing over Tom's hair, which stands erect over +his head like marlinspikes. At length he gets a craft-like set upon his +foretop, and turning his head first to the right, then to the left, as a +child does a doll, he views him with an air of exultation. "I tell you +what it is, Tom," he continues, relieving him of the old coat, "the +bright begins to come! There's three points of weather made already."</p> + +<p>"God bless you, Spunyarn," replies Tom, evidently touched by the +frankness and generosity of the old sailor. Indeed there was something +so whole-hearted about old Spunyarn, that he was held in universal +esteem by every one in jail, with the single exception of Milman Mingle, +the vote-cribber.</p> + +<p>"Just think of yourself, Tom—don't mind me," pursues the sailor as Tom +squeezes firmly his hand. "You've had a hard enough time of it—" Tom +interrupts by saying, as he lays his hands upon his sides, he is sore +from head to foot.</p> + +<p>"Don't wonder," returns the sailor. "It's a great State, this South +Carolina. It seems swarming with poor and powerless folks. Everybody has +power to put everybody in jail, where the State gives a body two +dog's-hair and rope-yarn blankets to lay upon, and grants the sheriff, +Mr. Hardscrable, full license to starve us, and put the thirty cents a +day it provides for our living into his breeches pockets. Say what you +will about it, old fellow, it's a brief way of doing a little profit in +the business of starvation. I don't say this with any ill-will to the +State that regards its powerless and destitute with such criminal +contempt—I don't." And he brings water, gets Tom upon his feet, forces +him into a clean shirt, and regards him in the light of a child whose +reformation he is determined on perfecting. He sees that in the fallen +man which implies a hope of ultimate usefulness, notwithstanding the +sullen silence, the gloomy frown on his knitted brow, and the general +air of despair that pervades the external man.</p> + +<p>"There!" he exclaims, having improved the personal of the inebriate, and +folding his arms as he steps back apace to have a better view of his +pupil—"now, don't think of being triced up in this dreary vault. Be +cheerful, brace up your resolution—never let the devil think you know +he is trying to put the last seal on your fate—never!" Having slipped +the black kerchief from his own neck, he secures it about Tom's, adjusts +the shark's bone at the throat, and mounts the braid hat upon his head +with a hearty blow on the crown. "Look at yourself! They'd mistake you +for a captain of the foretop," he pursues, and good-naturedly he lays +his broad, browned hands upon Tom's shoulders, and forces him up to a +triangular bit of glass secured with three tacks to the wall.</p> + +<p>Tom's hands wander down his sides as he contemplates himself in the +glass, saying: "I look a shade up, I reckon! And I feel—I have to thank +you for it, Spunyarn—something different all over me. God bless you! I +won't forget you. But I'm hungry; that's all that ails me now.</p> + +<p>"I may thank my mother—"</p> + +<p>"Thank yourself, Tom," interposes the sailor.</p> + +<p>"For all this. She has driven me to this; yes, she has made my soul dead +with despair!" And he bursts into a wild, fierce laugh. A moment's +pause, and he says, in a subdued voice, "I'm a slave, a fool, a wanderer +in search of his own distress."</p> + +<p>The kind-hearted sailor seats his pupil upon a board bench, and proceeds +down stairs, where, with the bribe of a glass of whiskey, he induces the +negro cook to prepare for Tom a bowl of coffee and a biscuit. In truth, +we must confess, that Spunyarn was so exceedingly liberal of his +friendship that he would at times appropriate to himself the personal +effects of his neighbors. But we must do him justice by saying that this +was only when a friend in need claimed his attention. And this generous +propensity he the more frequently exercised upon the effects—whiskey, +cold ham, crackers and cheese—of the vote-cribber, whom he regards as a +sort of cold-hearted land-lubber, whose political friends outside were +not what they should be. If the vote-cribber's aristocratic friends (and +South Carolina politicians were much given to dignity and bad whiskey) +sent him luxuries that tantalized the appetites of poverty-oppressed +debtors, and poor prisoners starving on a pound of bread a-day, Spunyarn +held this a legitimate plea for holding in utter contempt the right to +such gifts. And what was more singular of this man was, that he always +knew the latitude and longitude of the vote-cribber's bottle, and what +amount of water was necessary to keep up the gauge he had reduced in +supplying his flask.</p> + +<p>And now that Tom's almost hopeless condition presents a warrantable +excuse, (the vote-cribber has this moment passed into the cell to take a +cursory glance at Tom,) Spunyarn slips nimbly into the vote-cribber's +cell, withdraws a brick from the old chimney, and seizing the black neck +of a blacker bottle, drags it forth, holds it in the shadow of the +doorway, squints exultingly at the contents, shrugs his stalwart +shoulders, and empties a third of the liquid, which he replaces with +water from a bucket near by, into his tin-topped flask. This done, he +ingeniously replaces the bottle, slides the flask suspiciously into his +bosom, saying, "It'll taste just as strong to a vote-cribber," and seeks +that greasy potentate, the prison cook. This dignitary has always laid +something aside for Spunyarn; he knows Spunyarn has something laid aside +for him, which makes the condition mutual.</p> + +<p>"A new loafer let loose on the world!" says the vote-cribber, entering +the domain of the inebriate with a look of fierce scorn. "The State is +pestered to death with such things as you. What do they send you here +for?—disturbing the quiet and respectability of the prison! You're only +fit to enrich the bone-yard—hardly that; perhaps only for lawyers to +get fees of. The State'll starve you, old Hardscrabble'll make a few +dollars out of your feed—but what of that? We don't want you here." +There was something so sullen and mysterious in the coarse features of +this stalwart man—something so revolting in his profession, though it +was esteemed necessary to the elevation of men seeking political +popularity—something so at variance with common sense in the punishment +meted out to him who followed it, as to create a deep interest in his +history, notwithstanding his coldness towards the inebriate. And yet you +sought in vain for one congenial or redeeming trait in the character of +this man.</p> + +<p>"I always find you here; you're a fixture, I take it—"</p> + +<p>The vote-cribber interrupts the inebriate—"Better have said a patriot!"</p> + +<p>"Well," returns the inebriate, "a patriot then; have it as you like it. +I'm not over-sensitive of the distinction." The fallen man drops his +head into his hands, stabbed with remorse, while the vote-cribber folds +his brawny arms leisurely, paces to and fro before him, and scans him +with his keen, gray eyes, after the manner of one mutely contemplating +an imprisoned animal.</p> + +<p>"You need not give yourself so much concern about me—"</p> + +<p>"I was only thinking over in my head what a good subject to crib, a week +or two before fall election, you'd be. You've a vote?"</p> + +<p>Tom good-naturedly says he has. He always throws it for the "old +Charleston" party, being sure of a release, as are some dozen caged +birds, just before election.</p> + +<p>"I have declared eternal hatred against that party; never pays its +cribbers!" Mingle scornfully retorts; and having lighted his pipe, +continues his pacing. "As for this jail," he mutters to himself, "I've +no great respect for it; but there is a wide difference between a man +who they put in here for sinning against himself, and one who only +violates a law of the State, passed in opposition to popular opinion. +However, you seem brightened up a few pegs, and, only let whiskey alone, +you may be something yet. Keep up an acquaintance with the pump, and be +civil to respectable prisoners, that's all."</p> + +<p>This admonition of the vote-cribber had a deeper effect on the feelings +of the inebriate than was indicated by his outward manner. He had +committed no crime, and yet he found himself among criminals of every +kind; and what was worse, they affected to look down upon him. Had he +reached a state of degradation so low that even the felon loathed his +presence? Was he an outcast, stripped of every means of reform—of +making himself a man? Oh no! The knife of the destroyer had plunged +deep—disappointment had tortured his brain—he was drawn deeper into +the pool of misery by the fatal fascinations of the house of Madame +Flamingo, where, shunned by society, he had sought relief—but there was +yet one spark of pride lingering in his heart. That spark the +vote-cribber had touched; and with that spark Tom resolved to kindle for +himself a new existence. He had pledged his honor to the young +theologian; he would not violate it.</p> + +<p>The old sailor, with elated feelings, and bearing in his hands a bowl of +coffee and two slices of toasted bread, is accosted by several +suspicious-looking prisoners, who have assembled in the corridor for the +purpose of scenting fresh air, with sundry questions concerning the +state of his pupil's health.</p> + +<p>"He has had a rough night," the sailor answers, "but is now a bit calm. +In truth, he only wants a bit of good steering to get him into smooth +weather again." Thus satisfying the inquirers, he hurries up stairs as +the vote-cribber hurries down, and setting his offering on the +window-sill, draws from his bosom the concealed flask. "There, Tom!" he +says, with childlike satisfaction, holding the flask before him—"only +two pulls. To-morrow reef down to one; and the day after swear a +dissolution of copartnership, for this chap (he points to the whiskey) +is too mighty for you."</p> + +<p>Tom hesitates, as if questioning the quality of the drug he is about to +administer.</p> + +<p>"Only two!" interrupts the sailor. "It will reduce the ground-swell a +bit." The outcast places the flask to his lips, and having drank with +contorted face passes it back with a sigh, and extends his right hand. +"My honor is nothing to the world, Spunyarn, but it is yet something to +me; and by it I swear (here he grasps tighter the hand of the old +sailor, as a tear moistens his suffused cheeks) never to touch the +poison again. It has grappled me like a fierce animal I could not shake +off; it has made me the scoffed of felons—I will cease to be its +victim; and having gained the victory, be hereafter a friend to myself."</p> + +<p>"God bless you—may you never want a friend, Tom—and may He give you +strength to keep the resolution. That's my wish." And the old sailor +shook Tom's hand fervently, in pledge of his sincerity.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h3>CHAPTER V.</h3> + +<p class='center' style='font-size:smaller'>IN WHICH MR. SNIVEL, COMMONLY CALLED THE ACCOMMODATION MAN, IS +INTRODUCED, AND WHAT TAKES PLACE BETWEEN HIM AND MRS. SWIGGS.</p> + + +<p>Reader! have you ever witnessed how cleverly one of our mob-politicians +can, through the all-soothing medium of a mint-julep, transpose himself +from a mass of passion and bad English into a child of perfect +equanimity? If not, perhaps you have witnessed in our halls of Congress +the sudden transition through which some of our Carolina members pass +from a state of stupidity to a state of pugnacity? (We refer only to +those members who do their own "stumping," and as a natural consequence, +get into Congress through abuse of the North, bad whiskey, and a +profusion of promises to dissolve the Union.) And if you have, you may +form some idea of the suddenness with which Lady Swiggs, as she delights +in having her friends call her, transposes herself from the incarnation +of a viper into a creature of gentleness, on hearing announced the name +of Mr. Soloman Snivel.</p> + +<p>"What!—my old friend! I wish I had words to say how glad I am to see +you, Lady Swiggs!" exclaims a tall, well-proportioned and +handsome-limbed man, to whose figure a fashionable claret-colored frock +coat, white vest, neatly-fitting dark-brown trowsers, highly-polished +boots, a cluster of diamonds set in an avalanche of corded shirt-bosom, +and carelessly-tied green cravat, lend a respectability better imagined +than described. A certain reckless dash about him, not common to a +refined gentleman, forces us to set him down as one of those individuals +who hold an uncertain position in society; and though they may now and +then mingle with men of refinement, have their more legitimate sphere in +a fashionable world of doubtful character.</p> + +<p>"Why!—Mr. Snivel. Is it you?" responds the old woman, reciprocating his +warm shake of the hand, and getting her hard face into a smile.</p> + +<p>"I am so glad—But (Mr. Snivel interrupts himself) never mind that!"</p> + +<p>"You have some important news?" hastily inquires Mrs. Swiggs, laying a +bit of muslin carefully between the pages of her Milton, and returning +it to the table, saying she has just been grievously provoked by one of +that black-coated flock who go about the city in search of lambs. They +always remind her of light-houses pointing the road to the dominions of +the gentleman in black.</p> + +<p>"Something very important!" parenthesises Soloman—"very." And he shakes +his head, touches her significantly on the arm with his orange-colored +glove,—he smiles insidiously.</p> + +<p>"Pray be seated, Mr. Snivel. Rebecca!—bring Mr. Snivel the +rocking-chair."</p> + +<p>"You see, my good Madam, there's such a rumor about town this morning! +(Soloman again taps her on the arm with his glove.) The cat has got out +of the bag—it's all up with the St. Cecilia!—"</p> + +<p>"Do, Rebecca, make haste with the rocking-chair!" eagerly interrupts +the old woman, addressing herself to the negress, who fusses her way +into the room with a great old-fashioned rocking-chair. "I am so +sensitive of the character of that society," she continues with a sigh, +and wipes and rubs her spectacles, gets up and views herself in the +glass, frills over her cap border, and becomes very generally anxious. +Mrs. Swiggs is herself again. She nervously adjusts the venerable red +shawl about her shoulders, draws the newly-introduced arm-chair near her +own, ("I'm not so old, but am getting a little deaf," she says), and +begs her visitor will be seated.</p> + +<p>Mr. Soloman, having paced twice or thrice up and down the little room, +contemplating himself in the glass at each turn, now touching his +neatly-trimmed Saxon mustache and whiskers, then frisking his fingers +through his candy-colored hair, brings his dignity into the chair.</p> + +<p>"I said it was all up with the St. Cecilia—"</p> + +<p>"Yes!" interrupts Mrs. Swiggs, her eyes glistening like balls of fire, +her lower jaw falling with the weight of anxiety, and fretting rapidly +her bony hands.</p> + +<p>Soloman suddenly pauses, says that was a glorious bottle of old Madeira +with which he enjoyed her hospitality on his last visit. The flavor of +it is yet fresh in his mouth.</p> + +<p>"Thank you—thank you! Mr. Soloman. I've a few more left. But pray lose +no time in disclosing to me what hath befallen the St. Cecilia."</p> + +<p>"Well then—but what I say must be in confidence. (The old woman says it +never shall get beyond her lips—never!) An Englishman of goodly looks, +fashion, and money—and, what is more in favor with our first families, +a Sir attached to his name, being of handsome person and accomplished +manners, and travelling and living after the manner of a nobleman, (some +of our first families are simple enough to identify a Baronet with +nobility!) was foully set upon by the fairest and most marriageable +belles of the St. Cecilia. If he had possessed a dozen hearts, he could +have had good markets for them all. There was such a getting up of +attentions! Our fashionable mothers did their very best in arraying the +many accomplishments of their consignable daughters, setting forth in +the most foreign but not over-refined phraseology, their extensive +travels abroad—"</p> + +<p>"Yes!" interrupts Mrs. Swiggs, nervously—"I know how they do it. It's a +pardonable weakness." And she reaches out her hand and takes to her lap +her inseparable Milton.</p> + +<p>"And the many marked attentions—offers, in fact—they have received at +the hands of Counts and Earls, with names so unpronounceable that they +have outlived memory—"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps I have them in my book of autographs!" interrupts the credulous +old woman, making an effort to rise and proceed to an antique side-board +covered with grotesque-looking papers.</p> + +<p>Mr. Soloman urbanely touches her on the arm—begs she will keep her +seat. The names only apply to things of the past. He proceeds, +"Well—being a dashing fellow, as I have said—he played his game +charmingly. Now he flirted with this one, and then with that one, and +finally with the whole society, not excepting the very flirtable married +ladies;—that is, I mean those whose husbands were simple enough to let +him. Mothers were in a great flutter generally, and not a day passed but +there was a dispute as to which of their daughters he would link his +fortunes with and raise to that state so desirable in the eyes of our +very republican first families—the State-Militant of nobility—"</p> + +<p>"I think none the worse of 'em for that," says the old woman, twitching +her wizard-like head in confirmation of her assertion. "My word for it, +Mr. Soloman, to get up in the world, and to be above the common herd, is +the grand ambition of our people; and our State has got the grand +position it now holds before the world through the influence of this +ambition."</p> + +<p>"True!—you are right there, my dear friend. You may remember, I have +always said you had the penetration of a statesman, (Mrs. Swiggs makes a +curt bow, as a great gray cat springs into her lap and curls himself +down on her Milton;) and, as I was going on to say of this dashing +Baronet, he played our damsels about in agony, as an old sportsman does +a covey of ducks, wounding more in the head than in the heart, and +finally creating no end of a demand for matrimony. To-day, all the town +was positive, he would marry the beautiful Miss Boggs; to-morrow it was +not so certain that he would not marry the brilliant and +all-accomplished Miss Noggs; and the next day he was certain of marrying +the talented and very wealthy heiress, Miss Robbs. Mrs. Stepfast, highly +esteemed in fashionable society, and the very best gossip-monger in the +city, had confidentially spread it all over the neighborhood that Mr. +Stepfast told her the young Baronet told him (and he verily believed he +was head and ears in love with her!) Miss Robbs was the most lovely +creature he had seen since he left Belgravia. And then he went into a +perfect rhapsody of excitement while praising the poetry of her motion, +the grace with which she performed the smallest offices of the +drawing-room, her queenly figure, her round, alabaster arms, her smooth, +tapering hands, (so chastely set off with two small diamonds, and so +unlike the butchers' wives of this day, who bedazzle themselves all the +day long with cheap jewelry,)—the beautiful swell of her marble bust, +the sweet smile ever playing over her thoughtful face, the regularity of +her Grecian features, and those great, languishing eyes, constantly +flashing with the light of irresistible love. Quoth ye! according to +what Mr. Stepfast told Mrs. Stepfast, the young Baronet would, with the +ideal of a real poet, as was he, have gone on recounting her charms +until sundown, had not Mr. Stepfast invited him to a quiet family +dinner. And to confirm what Mr. Stepfast said, Miss Robbs had been seen +by Mrs. Windspin looking in at Mrs. Stebbins', the fashionable +dress-maker, while the young Baronet had twice been at Spears', in King +Street, to select a diamond necklace of great value, which he left +subject to the taste of Miss Robbs. And putting them two and them two +together there was something in it!"</p> + +<p>"I am truly glad it's nothing worse. There has been so much scandal got +up by vulgar people against our St. Cecilia."</p> + +<p>"Worse, Madam?" interpolates our hero, ere she has time to conclude her +sentence, "the worst is to come yet."</p> + +<p>"And I'm a member of the society!" Mrs. Swiggs replies with a +languishing sigh, mistaking the head of the cat for her Milton, and +apologizing for her error as that venerable animal, having got well +squeezed, sputters and springs from her grasp, shaking his head, +"elected solely on the respectability of my family."</p> + +<p>Rather a collapsed member, by the way, Mr. Soloman thinks, contemplating +her facetiously.</p> + +<p>"Kindly proceed—proceed," she says, twitching at her cap strings, as if +impatient to get the sequel.</p> + +<p>"Well, as to that, being a member of the St. Cecilia myself, you see, +and always—(I go in for a man keeping up in the world)—maintaining a +high position among its most distinguished members, who, I assure you, +respect me far above my real merits, (Mrs. Swiggs says we won't say +anything about that now!) and honor me with all its secrets, I may, even +in your presence, be permitted to say, that I never heard a member who +didn't speak in high praise of you and the family of which you are so +excellent a representative."</p> + +<p>"Thank you—thank you. O thank you, Mr. Soloman!" she rejoins.</p> + +<p>"Why, Madam, I feel all my veneration getting into my head at once when +I refer to the name of Sir Sunderland Swiggs."</p> + +<p>"But pray what came of the young Baronet?"</p> + +<p>"Oh!—as to him, why, you see, he was what we call—it isn't a polite +word, I confess—a humbug."</p> + +<p>"A Baronet a humbug!" she exclaims, fretting her hands and commencing to +rock herself in the chair.</p> + +<p>"Well, as to that, as I was going on to say, after he had beat the bush +all around among the young birds, leaving several of them wounded on the +ground—you understand this sort of thing—he took to the older ones, +and set them polishing up their feathers. And having set several very +respectable families by the ears, and created a terrible flutter among a +number of married dames—he was an adept in this sort of diplomacy, you +see—it was discovered that one very distinguished Mrs. Constance, +leader of fashion to the St. Cecilia, (and on that account on no very +good terms with the vulgar world, that was forever getting up scandal to +hurl at the society that would not permit it to soil, with its common +muslin, the fragrant atmosphere of its satin and tulle), had been +carrying on a villanous intrigue—yes, Madam! villanous intrigue! I said +discovered: the fact was, this gallant Baronet, with one servant and no +establishment, was feted and fooled for a month, until he came to the +very natural and sensible conclusion, that we were all snobbs—yes, +snobbs of the very worst kind. But there was no one who fawned over and +flattered the vanity of this vain man more than the husband of Mrs. +Constance. This poor man idolized his wife, whom he regarded as the very +diamond light of purity, nor ever mistrusted that the Baronet's +attentions were bestowed with any other than the best of motives. +Indeed, he held it extremely condescending on the part of the Baronet to +thus honor the family with his presence.</p> + +<p>"And the Baronet, you see, with that folly so characteristic of +Baronets, was so flushed with his success in this little intrigue with +Madame Constance—the affair was too good for him to keep!—that he went +all over town showing her letters. Such nice letters as they were—brim +full of repentance, love, and appointments. The Baronet read them to Mr. +Barrows, laughing mischievously, and saying what a fool the woman must +be. Mr. Barrows couldn't keep it from Mrs. Barrows, Mrs. Barrows let the +cat out of the bag to Mrs. Simpson, and Mrs. Simpson would let Mr. +Simpson have no peace till he got on the soft side of the Baronet, and, +what was not a difficult matter, got two of the letters for her to have +a peep into. Mrs. Simpson having feasted her eyes on the two Mr. Simpson +got of the Baronet, and being exceedingly fond of such wares as they +contained, must needs—albeit, in strict confidence—whisper it to Mrs. +Fountain, who was a very fashionable lady, but unfortunately had a head +very like a fountain, with the exception that it ejected out double the +amount it took in. Mrs. Fountain—as anybody might have known—let it +get all over town. And then the vulgar herd took it up, as if it were +assafœtida, only needing a little stirring up, and hurled it back at +the St. Cecilia, the character of which it would damage without a pang +of remorse.</p> + +<p>"Then the thing got to Constance's ears; and getting into a terrible +passion, poor Constance swore nothing would satisfy him but the +Baronet's life. But the Baronet—"</p> + +<p>"A sorry Baronet was he—not a bit like my dear ancestor, Sir +Sunderland," Mrs. Swiggs interposes.</p> + +<p>"Not a bit, Madam," bows our hero. "Like a sensible gentleman, as I was +about to say, finding it getting too hot for him, packed up his alls, +and in the company of his unpaid servant, left for parts westward of +this. I had a suspicion the fellow was not what he should be; and I made +it known to my select friends of the St. Cecilia, who generally +pooh-poohed me. A nobleman, they said, should receive every attention. +And to show that he wasn't what he should be, when he got to Augusta his +servant sued him for his wages; and having nothing but his chivalry, +which the servant very sensibly declined to accept for payment, he came +out like a man, and declared himself nothing but a poor player.</p> + +<p>"But this neither satisfied Constance nor stayed the drifting current of +slander—"</p> + +<p>"Oh! I am so glad it was no worse," Mrs. Swiggs interrupts again.</p> + +<p>"True!" Mr. Soloman responds, laughing heartily, as he taps her on the +arm. "It might have been worse, though. Well, I am, as you know, always +ready to do a bit of a good turn for a friend in need, and pitying poor +Constance as I did, I suggested a committee of four most respectable +gentlemen, and myself, to investigate the matter. The thing struck +Constance favorably, you see. So we got ourselves together, agreed to +consider ourselves a Congress, talked over the affairs of the nation, +carried a vote to dissolve the Union, drank sundry bottles of Champagne, +(I longed for a taste of your old Madeira, Mrs. Swiggs,) and brought in +a verdict that pleased Mrs. Constance wonderfully—and so it ought. We +were, after the most careful examination, satisfied that the reports +prejudicial to the character and standing of Mrs. Constance had no +foundation in truth, being the base fabrications of evil-minded persons, +who sought, while injuring an innocent lady, to damage the reputation of +the St. Cecilia Society. Mr. Constance was highly pleased with the +finding; and finally it proved the sovereign balm that healed all their +wounds. Of course, the Knight, having departed, was spared his blood."</p> + +<p>Here Mr. Soloman makes a pause. Mrs. Swiggs, with a sigh, says, "Is that +all?"</p> + +<p>"Quite enough for once, my good Madam," Mr. Soloman bows in return.</p> + +<p>"Oh! I am so glad the St. Cecilia is yet spared to us. You said, you +know, it was all up with it—"</p> + +<p>"Up? up?—so it is! That is, it won't break it up, you know. Why—oh, I +see where the mistake is—it isn't all over, you know, seeing how the +society can live through a score of nine-months scandals. But the +thing's in every vulgar fellow's lips—that is the worst of it."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Swiggs relishes this bit of gossip as if it were a dainty morsel; +and calling Rebecca, she commands her to forthwith proceed into the +cellar and bring a bottle of the old Madeira—she has only five +left—for Mr. Soloman. And to Mr. Soloman's great delight, the old +negress hastily obeys the summons; brings forth a mass of cobweb and +dust, from which a venerable black bottle is disinterred, uncorked, and +presented to the guest, who drinks the health of Mrs. Swiggs in sundry +well-filled glasses, which he declares choice, adding, that it always +reminds him of the age and dignity of the family. Like the State, +dignity is Mrs. Swiggs' weakness—her besetting sin. Mr. Soloman, having +found the key to this vain woman's generosity, turns it when it suits +his own convenience.</p> + +<p>"By-the-bye," he suddenly exclaims, "you've got Tom locked up again."</p> + +<p>"As safe as he ever was, I warrant ye!" Mrs. Swiggs replies, resuming +her Milton and rocking-chair.</p> + +<p>"Upon my faith I agree with you. Never let him get out, for he is sure +to disgrace the family when he does—"</p> + +<p>"I've said he shall rot there, and he shall rot! He never shall get out +to disgrace the family—no, not if I live to be as gray as Methuselah, I +warrant you!" And Mr. Soloman, having made his compliments to the sixth +glass, draws from his breast pocket a legal-looking paper, which he +passes to Mrs. Swiggs, as she ejaculates, "Oh! I am glad you thought of +that."</p> + +<p>Mr. Soloman, watching intently the changes of her face, says, "You will +observe, Madam, I have mentioned the cripples. There are five of them. +We are good friends, you see; and it is always better to be precise in +those things. It preserves friendship. This is merely a bit of a good +turn I do for you." Mr. Soloman bows, makes an approving motion with his +hands, and lays at her disposal on the table, a small roll of bills. +"You will find two hundred dollars there," he adds, modulating his +voice. "You will find it all right; I got it for you of Keepum. We do a +little in that way; he is very exact, you see—"</p> + +<p>"Honor is the best security between people of our standing," she +rejoins, taking up a pen and signing the instrument, which her guest +deposits snugly in his pocket, and takes his departure for the house of +Madame Flamingo.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h3>CHAPTER VI.</h3> + +<p class='center' style='font-size:smaller'>CONTAINING SUNDRY MATTERS APPERTAINING TO THIS HISTORY.</p> + + +<p>If, generous reader, you had lived in Charleston, we would take it for +granted that you need no further enlightening on any of our very select +societies, especially the St. Cecilia; but you may not have enjoyed a +residence so distinguished, rendering unnecessary a few explanatory +remarks. You must know that we not only esteem ourselves the +quintessence of refinement, as we have an undisputed right to do, but +regard the world outside as exceedingly stupid in not knowing as much of +us as we profess to know of ourselves. Abroad, we wonder we are not at +once recognized as Carolinians; at home, we let the vulgar world know +who we are. Indeed, we regard the outside world—of these States we +mean—very much in that light which the Greeks of old were wont to view +the Romans in. Did we but stop here, the weakness might be pardonable. +But we lay claim to Grecian refinement of manners, while pluming all our +mob-politicians Roman orators. There is a profanity about this we +confess not to like; not that danger can befall it, but because it hath +about it that which reminds us of the oyster found in the shell of gold. +Condescending, then, to believe there exists outside of our State a few +persons silly enough to read books, we will take it for granted, reader, +that you are one of them, straightway proceeding with you to the St. +Cecilia.</p> + +<p>You have been a fashionable traveller in Europe? You say—yes! rummaged +all the feudal castles of England, sought out the resting places of her +kings, heard some one say "that is poet's corner," as we passed into +Westminster Abbey, thought they couldn't be much to have such a +corner,—"went to look" where Byron was buried, moistened the marble +with a tear ere we were conscious of it, and saw open to us the gulf of +death as we contemplated how greedy graveyard worms were banqueting on +his greatness. A world of strange fancies came over us as we mused on +England's poets. And we dined with several Dukes and a great many more +Earls, declining no end of invitations of commoners. Very well! we +reply, adding a sigh. And on your return to your home, that you may not +be behind the fashion, you compare disparagingly everything that meets +your eye. Nothing comes up to what you saw in Europe. A servant doesn't +know how to be a servant here; and were we to see the opera at Covent +Garden, we would be sure to stare our eyes out. It is become habitual to +introduce your conversation with, "when I was in Europe." And you know +you never write a letter that you don't in some way bring in the +distinguished persons you met abroad. There is something (no matter what +it is) that forcibly reminds you of what occurred at the table of my +Lady Clarendon, with whom you twice had the pleasure and rare honor of +dining. And by implication, you always give us a sort of lavender-water +description of the very excellent persons you met there, and what they +were kind enough to say of America, and how they complimented you, and +made you the centre and all-absorbing object of attraction—in a word, a +truly wonderful person. And you will not fail, now that it is become +fashionable, to extol with fulsome breath the greatness of every +European despot it hath been your good fortune to get a bow from. And +you are just vain enough to forever keep this before your up-country +cousins. You say, too, that you have looked in at Almacks. Almacks! +alas! departed greatness. With the rise of the Casino hath it lain its +aristocratic head in the dust.</p> + +<p>Well!—the St. Cecilia you must know (its counterparts are to be found +in all our great cities) is a miniature Almacks—a sort of leach-cloth, +through which certain very respectable individuals must pass ere they +can become the elite of our fashionable world. To become a member of the +St. Cecilia—to enjoy its recherché assemblies—to luxuriate in the +delicate perfumes of its votaries, is the besetting sin of a great many +otherwise very sensible people. And to avenge their disappointment at +not being admitted to its precious precincts, they are sure to be found +in the front rank of scandal-mongers when anything in their line is up +with a member. And it is seldom something is not up, for the society +would seem to live and get lusty in an atmosphere of perpetual scandal. +Any amount of duels have come of it; it hath made rich no end of +milliners; it hath made bankrupt husbands by the dozen; it hath been the +theatre of several distinguished romances; it hath witnessed the first +throbbings of sundry hearts, since made happy in wedlock; it hath been +the <i>shibolath</i> of sins that shall be nameless here. The reigning belles +are all members (provided they belong to our first families) of the St. +Cecilia, as is also the prettiest and most popular unmarried parson. And +the parson being excellent material for scandal, Mother Rumor is sure to +have a dash at him. Nor does this very busy old lady seem over-delicate +about which of the belles she associates with the parson, so long as the +scandal be fashionable enough to afford her a good traffic.</p> + +<p>There is continually coming along some unknown but very distinguished +foreigner, whom the society adopts as its own, flutters over, and +smothers with attentions, and drops only when it is discovered he is an +escaped convict. This, in deference to the reputation of the St. +Cecilia, we acknowledge has only happened twice. It has been said with +much truth that the St. Cecilia's worst sin, like the sins of its sister +societies of New York, is a passion for smothering with the satin and +Honiton of its assemblies a certain supercilious species of snobby +Englishmen, who come over here, as they have it (gun and fishing-rod in +hand), merely to get right into the woods where they can have plenty of +bear-hunting, confidently believing New York a forest inhabited by such +animals. As for our squaws, as Mr. Tom Toddleworth would say, (we shall +speak more at length of Tom!) why! they have no very bad opinion of +them, seeing that they belong to a race of semi-barbarians, whose +sayings they delight to note down. Having no society at home, this +species of gentry the more readily find themselves in high favor with +ours. They are always Oxonians, as the sons of green grocers and +fishmongers are sure to be when they come over here (so Mr. Toddleworth +has it, and he is good authority), and we being an exceedingly +impressible people, they kindly condescend to instruct us in all the +high arts, now and then correcting our very bad English. They are clever +fellows generally, being sure to get on the kind side of credulous +mothers with very impressible-headed daughters.</p> + +<p>There was, however, always a distinguished member of the St. Cecilia +society who let out all that took place at its assemblies. The vulgar +always knew what General danced with the lovely Miss A., and how they +looked, and what they said to each other; how many jewels Miss A. wore, +and the material her dress was made of; they knew who polkaed with the +accomplished Miss B., and how like a duchess she bore herself; they had +the exact name of the colonel who dashed along so like a knight with the +graceful and much-admired Mrs. D., whose husband was abroad serving his +country; what gallant captain of dragoons (captains of infantry were +looked upon as not what they might be) promenaded so imperiously with +the vivacious Miss E.; and what distinguished foreigner sat all night in +the corner holding a suspicious and very improper conversation with Miss +F., whose skirts never were free of scandal, and who had twice got the +pretty parson into difficulty with his church. Hence there was a +perpetual outgoing of scandal on the one side, and pelting of dirt on +the other.</p> + +<p>When Mr. Soloman sought the presence of Mrs. Swiggs and told her it was +all up with the St. Cecilia, and when that august member of the society +was so happily disappointed by his concluding with leaving it an +undamaged reputation, the whole story was not let out. In truth the +society was at that moment in a state of indignation, and its reputation +as well-nigh the last stage of disgrace as it were possible to bring it +without being entirely absorbed. The Baronet, who enjoyed a good joke, +and was not over-scrupulous in measuring the latitude of our credulity, +had, it seems, in addition to the little affair with Mrs. Constance, +been imprudent enough to introduce at one of the assemblies of the St. +Cecilia, a lady of exceedingly fair but frail import: this loveliest of +creatures—this angel of fallen fame—this jewel, so much sought after +in her own casket—this child of gentleness and beauty, before whom a +dozen gallant knights were paying homage, and claiming her hand for the +next waltz, turned out to be none other than the Anna Bonard we have +described at the house of Madame Flamingo. The discovery sent the whole +assembly into a fainting fit, and caused such a fluttering in the camp +of fashion. Reader! you may rest assured back-doors and smelling-bottles +were in great demand.</p> + +<p>The Baronet had introduced her as his cousin; just arrived, he said, in +the care of her father—the cousin whose beauty he had so often referred +to. So complete was her toilet and disguise, that none but the most +intimate associate could have detected the fraud. Do you ask us who was +the betrayer, reader? We answer,—</p> + +<p>One whose highest ambition did seem that of getting her from her +paramour, George Mullholland. It was Judge Sleepyhorn. Reader! you will +remember him—the venerable, snowy-haired man, sitting on the lounge at +the house of Madame Flamingo, and on whom George Mullholland swore to +have revenge. The judge of a criminal court, the admonisher of the +erring, the sentencer of felons, the <i>habitue</i> of the house of Madame +Flamingo—no libertine in disguise could be more scrupulous of his +standing in society, or so sensitive of the opinion held of him by the +virtuous fair, than was this daylight guardian of public morals.</p> + +<p>The Baronet got himself nicely out of the affair, and Mr. Soloman +Snivel, commonly called Mr. Soloman, the accommodation man, is at the +house of Madame Flamingo, endeavoring to effect a reconciliation between +the Judge and George Mullholland.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h3>CHAPTER VII.</h3> + +<p class='center' style='font-size:smaller'>IN WHICH IS SEEN A COMMINGLING OF CITIZENS.</p> + + +<p>Night has thrown her mantle over the city. There is a great gathering of +denizens at the house of Madame Flamingo. She has a <i>bal-masque</i> +to-night. Her door is beset with richly-caparisoned equipages. The town +is on tip-toe to be there; we reluctantly follow it. An hundred +gaudily-decorated drinking saloon are filled with gaudier-dressed men. +In loudest accent rings the question—"Do you go to Madame Flamingo's +to-night?" Gentlemen of the genteel world, in shining broadcloth, touch +glasses and answer—"yes!" It is a wonderful city—this of ours. Vice +knows no restraint, poverty hath no friends here. We bow before the +shrine of midnight revelry; we bring licentiousness to our homes, but we +turn a deaf ear to the cries of poverty, and we gloat over the sale of +men.</p> + +<p>The sickly gas-light throws a sicklier glare over the narrow, unpaved +streets. The city is on a frolic, a thing not uncommon with it. Lithe +and portly-figured men, bearing dominos in their hands, saunter along +the sidewalk, now dangling ponderous watch-chains, then flaunting +highly-perfumed cambrics—all puffing the fumes of choice cigars. If +accosted by a grave wayfarer—they are going to the opera! They are +dressed in the style of opera-goers. And the road to the opera seems the +same as that leading to the house of the old hostess. A gaily-equipped +carriage approaches. We hear the loud, coarse laughing of those it so +buoyantly bears, then there comes full to view the glare of yellow silks +and red satins, and doubtful jewels—worn by denizens from whose faded +brows the laurel wreath hath fallen. How shrunken with the sorrow of +their wretched lives, and yet how sportive they seem! The pale gas-light +throws a spectre-like hue over their paler features; the artificial +crimson with which they would adorn the withered cheek refuses to lend a +charm to features wan and ghastly. The very air is sickly with the odor +of their cosmetics. And with flaunting cambrics they bend over carriage +sides, salute each and every pedestrian, and receive in return answers +unsuited to refined ears. They pass into the dim vista, but we see with +the aid of that flickering gas, the shadow of that polluting hand which +hastens life into death.</p> + +<p>Old Mr. McArthur, who sits smoking his long pipe in the door of his +crazy-looking curiosity shop, (he has just parted company with the young +theologian, having assured him he would find a place to stow Tom Swiggs +in,) wonders where the fashionable world of Charleston can be going? It +is going to the house of the Flamingo. The St. Cecilia were to have had +a ball to-night; scandal and the greater attractions here have closed +its doors.</p> + +<p>A long line of carriages files past the door of the old hostess. An +incessant tripping of feet, delicately encased in bright-colored +slippers; an ominous fluttering of gaudy silks and satins; an inciting +glare of borrowed jewelry, mingling with second-hand lace; an +heterogeneous gleaming of bare, brawny arms, and distended busts, all +lend a sort of barbaric splendor to that mysterious group floating, as +it were, into a hall in one blaze of light. A soft carpet, overlain +with brown linen, is spread from the curbstone into the hall. Two +well-developed policemen guard the entrance, take tickets of those who +pass in, and then exchange smiles of recognition with venerable looking +gentlemen in masks. The hostess, a clever "business man" in her way, has +made the admission fee one dollar. Having paid the authorities ten +dollars, and honored every Alderman with a complimentary ticket, who has +a better right? No one has a nicer regard for the Board of Aldermen than +Madame Flamingo; no one can reciprocate this regard more condescendingly +than the honorable Board of Aldermen do. Having got herself arrayed in a +dress of sky-blue satin, that ever and anon streams, cloud-like, behind +her, and a lace cap of approved fashion, with pink strings nicely +bordered in gimp, and a rich Honiton cape, jauntily thrown over her +shoulders, and secured under the chin with a great cluster of blazing +diamonds, and rows of unpolished pearls at her wrists, which are +immersed in crimped ruffles, she doddles up and down the hall in a state +of general excitement. A corpulent colored man, dressed in the garb of a +beadle,—a large staff in his right hand, a cocked hat on his head, and +broad white stripes down his flowing coat, stands midway between the +parlor doors. He is fussy enough, and stupid enough, for a Paddington +beadle. Now Madame Flamingo looks scornfully at him, scolds him, pushes +him aside; he is only a slave she purchased for the purpose; she +commands that he gracefully touch his hat (she snatches it from his +head, and having elevated it over her own, performs the delicate motion +she would have him imitate) to every visitor. The least neglect of duty +will incur (she tells him in language he cannot mistake) the penalty of +thirty-nine well laid on in the morning. In another minute her fat, +chubby-face glows with smiles, her whole soul seems lighted up with +childlike enthusiasm; she has a warm welcome for each new comer, retorts +saliently upon her old friends, and says—"you know how welcome you all +are!" Then she curtsies with such becoming grace. "The house, you know, +gentlemen, is a commonwealth to-night." Ah! she recognizes the tall, +comely figure of Mr. Soloman, the accommodation man. He did not spring +from among the bevy of coat-takers, and hood-retainers, at the extreme +end of the great hall, nor from among the heap of promiscuous garments +piled in one corner; and yet he is here, looking as if some magic +process had brought him from a mysterious labyrinth. "Couldn't get along +without me, you see. It's an ambition with me to befriend everybody. If +I can do a bit of a good turn for a friend, so much the better!" And he +grasps the old hostess by the hand with a self-satisfaction he rather +improves by tapping her encouragingly on the shoulder. "You'll make a +right good thing of this!—a clear thousand, eh?"</p> + +<p>"The fates have so ordained it," smiles naively the old woman.</p> + +<p>"Of course the fates could not ordain otherwise—"</p> + +<p>"As to that, Mr. Soloman, I sometimes think the gods are with me, and +then again I think they are against me. The witches—they have done my +fortune a dozen times or more—always predict evil (I consult them +whenever a sad fit comes over me), but witches are not to be depended +upon! I am sure I think what a fool I am for consulting them at all." +She espies, for her trade of sin hath made keen her eye, the venerable +figure of Judge Sleepyhorn advancing up the hall, masked. "Couldn't get +along without you," she lisps, tripping towards him, and greeting him +with the familiarity of an intimate friend. "I'm rather aristocratic, +you'll say!—and I confess I am, though a democrat in principle!" And +Madame Flamingo confirms what she says with two very dignified nods. As +the Judge passes silently in she pats him encouragingly on the back, +saying,—"There ain't no one in this house what'll hurt a hair on your +head." The Judge heeds not what she says.</p> + +<p>"My honor for it, Madame, but I think your guests highly favored, +altogether! Fine weather, and the prospect of a <i>bal-masque</i> of Pompeian +splendor. The old Judge, eh?"</p> + +<p>"The gods smile—the gods smile, Mr. Soloman!" interrupts the hostess, +bowing and swaying her head in rapid succession.</p> + +<p>"The gods have their eye on him to-night—he's a marked man! A jolly old +cove of a Judge, he is! Cares no more about rules and precedents, on the +bench, than he does for the rights and precedents some persons profess +to have in this house. A high old blade to administer justice, eh?"</p> + +<p>"But, you see, Mr. Soloman," the hostess interrupts, a gracious bow +keeping time with the motion of her hand, "he is such an aristocratic +prop in the character of my house."</p> + +<p>"I rather like that, I confess, Madame. You have grown rich off the +aristocracy. Now, don't get into a state of excitement!" says Mr. +Soloman, fingering his long Saxon beard, and eyeing her mischievously. +She sees a bevy of richly-dressed persons advancing up the hall in high +glee. Indeed her house is rapidly filling to the fourth story. And yet +they come! she says. "The gods are in for a time. I love to make the +gods happy."</p> + +<p>Mr. Soloman has lain his hand upon her arm retentively.</p> + +<p>"It is not that the aristocracy and such good persons as the Judge spend +so much here. But they give <i>eclat</i> to the house, and <i>eclat</i> is money. +That's it, sir! Gold is the deity of <i>our</i> pantheon! Bless you (the +hostess evinces the enthusiasm of a politician), what better evidence of +the reputation of my house than is before you, do you want? I've shut up +the great Italian opera, with its three squalling prima donnas, which in +turn has shut up the poor, silly <i>Empresario</i> as they call him; and the +St. Cecilia I have just used up. I'm a team in my way, you see;—run all +these fashionable oppositions right into bankruptcy." Never were words +spoken with more truth. Want of patronage found all places of rational +amusement closed. Societies for intellectual improvement, one after +another, died of poverty. Fashionable lectures had attendance only when +fashionable lecturers came from the North; and the Northman was sure to +regard our taste through the standard of what he saw before him.</p> + +<p>The house of the hostess triumphs, and is corpulent of wealth and +splendor. To-morrow she will feed with the rich crumbs that fall from +her table the starving poor. And although she holds poor virtue in utter +contempt, feeding the poor she regards a large score on the passport to +a better world. A great marble stairway winds its way upward at the +farther end of the hall, and near it are two small balconies, one on +each side, presenting barricades of millinery surmounted with the +picturesque faces of some two dozen denizens, who keep up an incessant +gabbling, interspersed here and there with jeers directed at Mr. +Soloman. "Who is he seeking to accommodate to-night?" they inquire, +laughing merrily.</p> + +<p>The house is full, the hostess has not space for one friend more; she +commands the policemen to close doors. An Alderman is the only exception +to her <i>fiat</i>. "You see," she says, addressing herself to a courtly +individual who has just saluted her with urbane deportment, "I must +preserve the <i>otium cum dignitate</i> of my (did I get it right?) standing +in society. I don't always get these Latin sayings right. Our +Congressmen don't. And, you see, like them, I ain't a Latin scholar, and +may be excused for any little slips. Politics and larnin' don't get +along well together. Speaking of politics, I confess I rather belong to +the Commander and Quabblebum school—I do!"</p> + +<p>At this moment (a tuning of instruments is heard in the dancing-hall) +the tall figure of the accommodation man is seen, in company of the +venerable Judge, passing hurriedly into a room on the right of the +winding stairs before described. "Judge!" he exclaims, closing the door +quickly after him, "you will be discovered and exposed. I am not +surprised at your passion for her, nor the means by which you seek to +destroy the relations existing between her and George Mullholland. It is +an evidence of taste in you. But she is proud to a fault, and, this I +say in friendship, you so wounded her feelings, when you betrayed her to +the St. Cecilia, that she has sworn to have revenge on you. George +Mullholland, too, has sworn to have your life.</p> + +<p>"I tell you what it is, Judge, (the accommodation man assumes the air of +a bank director,) I have just conceived—you will admit I have an +inventive mind!—a plot that will carry you clean through the whole +affair. Your ambition is divided between a passion for this charming +creature and the good opinion of better society. The resolution to +retain the good opinion of society is doing noble battle in your heart; +but it is the weaker vessel, and it always will be so with a man of your +mould, inasmuch as such resolutions are backed up by the less fierce +elements of our nature. Put this down as an established principle. Well, +then, I will take upon myself the betrayal. I will plead you ignorant of +the charge, procure her forgiveness, and reconcile the matter with this +Mullholland. It's worth an hundred or more, eh?"</p> + +<p>The venerable man smiles, shakes his head as if heedless of the +admonition, and again covers his face with his domino.</p> + +<p>The accommodation man, calling him by his judicial title, says he will +yet repent the refusal!</p> + +<p>It is ten o'clock. The gentleman slightly colored, who represents a +fussy beadle, makes a flourish with his great staff. The doors of the +dancing hall are thrown open. Like the rushing of the gulf stream there +floods in a motley procession of painted females and masked men—the +former in dresses as varied in hue as the fires of remorse burning out +their unuttered thoughts. Two and two they jeer and crowd their way +along into the spacious hall, the walls of which are frescoed in +extravagant mythological designs, the roof painted in fret work, and the +cornices interspersed with seraphs in stucco and gilt. The lights of two +massive chandeliers throw a bewitching refulgence over a scene at once +picturesque and mysterious; and from four tall mirrors secured between +the windows, is reflected the forms and movements of the masquers.</p> + +<p>Reader! you have nothing in this democratic country with which to +successfully compare it. And to seek a comparison in the old world, +where vice, as in this city of chivalry, hath a license, serves not our +office.</p> + +<p>Madame Flamingo, flanked right and left by twelve colored gentlemen, +who, their collars decorated with white and pink rosettes, officiate as +masters of ceremony, and form a crescent in front of the thronging +procession, steps gradually backward, curtsying and bowing, and +spreading her hands to her guests, after the manner of my Lord +Chamberlain.</p> + +<p>Eight colored musicians, (everything is colored here,) perched on a +raised platform covered with maroon-colored plush, at the signal of a +lusty-tongued call-master, strike up a march, to which the motley throng +attempt to keep time. It is martial enough; and discordant enough for +anything but keeping time to.</p> + +<p>The plush-covered benches filing along the sides and ends of the hall +are eagerly sought after and occupied by a strange mixture of lookers on +in Vienna. Here the hoary-headed father sits beside a newly-initiated +youth who is receiving his first lesson of dissipation. There the grave +and chivalric planter sports with the nice young man, who is cultivating +a beard and his way into the by-ways. A little further on the suspicious +looking gambler sits freely conversing with the man whom a degrading +public opinion has raised to the dignity of the judicial bench. Yonder +is seen the man who has eaten his way into fashionable society, (and by +fashionable society very much caressed in return,) the bosom companion +of the man whose crimes have made him an outcast.</p> + +<p>Generous reader! contemplate this grotesque assembly; study the object +Madame Flamingo has in gathering it to her fold. Does it not present the +accessories to wrong doing? Does it not show that the wrong-doer and the +criminally inclined, too often receive encouragement by the example of +those whoso duty it is to protect society? The spread of crime, alas! +for the profession, is too often regarded by the lawyer as rather a +desirable means of increasing his trade.</p> + +<p>Quadrille follows quadrille, the waltz succeeds the schottish, the scene +presents one bewildering maze of flaunting gossamers and girating +bodies, now floating sylph-like into the foreground, then whirling +seductively into the shadowy vista, where the joyous laugh dies out in +the din of voices. The excitement has seized upon the head and heart of +the young,—the child who stood trembling between the first and second +downward step finds her reeling brain a captive in this snare set to +seal her ruin.</p> + +<p>Now the music ceases, the lusty-tongued call-master stands surveying +what he is pleased to call the oriental splendor of this grotesque +assembly. He doesn't know who wouldn't patronize such a house! It +suddenly forms in platoon, and marshalled by slightly-colored masters of +ceremony, promenades in an oblong figure.</p> + +<p>Here, leaning modestly on the arm of a tall figure in military uniform, +and advancing slowly up the hall, is a girl of some sixteen summers. Her +finely-rounded form is in harmony with the ravishing vivacity of her +face, which is beautifully oval. Seen by the glaring gas-light her +complexion is singularly clear and pale. But that freshness which had +gained her many an admirer, and which gave such a charm to the roundness +of early youth, we look for in vain. And yet there is a softness and +delicacy about her well-cut and womanly features—a childlike sweetness +in her smile—a glow of thoughtfulness in those great, flashing black +eyes—an expression of melancholy in which at short intervals we read +her thoughts—an incessant playing of those long dark eyelashes, that +clothes her charms with an irresistible, a soul-inspiring seductiveness. +Her dress, of moire antique, is chasteness itself; her bust exquisite +symmetry; it heaves as softly as if touched by some gentle zephyr. From +an Haidean brow falls and floats undulating over her marble-like +shoulders, the massive folds of her glossy black hair. Nature had indeed +been lavish of her gifts on this fair creature, to whose charms no +painter could give a touch more fascinating. This girl, whose elastic +step and erect carriage contrasts strangely with the languid forms about +her, is Anna Bonard, the neglected, the betrayed. There passes and +repasses her, now contemplating her with a curious stare, then muttering +inaudibly, a man of portly figure, in mask and cowl. He touches with a +delicate hand his watch-guard, we see two sharp, lecherous eyes peering +through the domino; he folds his arms and pauses a few seconds, as if to +survey the metal of her companion, then crosses and recrosses her path. +Presently his singular demeanor attracts her attention, a curl of +sarcasm is seen on her lip, her brow darkens, her dark orbs flash as of +fire,—all the heart-burnings of a soul stung with shame are seen to +quicken and make ghastly those features that but a moment before shone +lambent as summer lightning. He pauses as with a look of withering scorn +she scans him from head to foot, raises covertly her left hand, tossing +carelessly her glossy hair on her shoulder, and with lightning quickness +snatches with her right the domino from his face. "Hypocrite!" she +exclaims, dashing it to the ground, and with her foot placed defiantly +upon the domino, assumes a tragic attitude, her right arm extended, and +the forefinger of her hand pointing in his face, "Ah!" she continues, in +biting accents, "it is against the perfidy of such as you. I have +struggled. Your false face, like your heart, needed a disguise. But I +have dragged it away, that you may be judged as you are. This is my +satisfaction for your betrayal. Oh that I could have deeper revenge!" +She has unmasked Judge Sleepyhorn, who stands before the anxious gaze of +an hundred night revellers, pressing eagerly to the scene of confusion. +Madame Flamingo's house, as you may judge, is much out in its dignity, +and in a general uproar. There was something touching—something that +the graver head might ponder over, in the words of this unfortunate +girl—"I have struggled!" A heedless and gold-getting world seldom +enters upon the mystery of its meaning. But it hath a meaning deep and +powerful in its appeal to society—one that might serve the good of a +commonwealth did society stoop and take it by the hand.</p> + +<p>So sudden was the motion with which this girl snatched the mask from the +face of the Judge, (he stood as if appalled,) that, ere he had gained +his self-possession, she drew from her girdle a pearl-hilted stiletto, +and in attempting to ward off the dreadful lunge, he struck it from her +hand, and into her own bosom. The weapon fell gory to the floor—the +blood trickled down her bodice—a cry of "murder" resounded through the +hall! The administrator of justice rushed out of the door as the unhappy +girl swooned in the arms of her partner. A scene so confused and wild +that it bewilders the brain, now ensued. Madame Flamingo calls loudly +for Mr. Soloman; and as the reputation of her house is uppermost in her +thoughts, she atones for its imperiled condition by fainting in the arms +of a grave old gentleman, who was beating a hasty retreat, and whose +respectability she may compromise through this uncalled-for act.</p> + +<p>A young man of slender form, and pale, sandy features, makes his way +through the crowd, clasps Anna affectionately in his arms, imprints a +kiss on her pallid brow, and bears her out of the hall.</p> + +<p>By the aid of hartshorn and a few dashes of cold water, the old hostess +is pleased to come to, as we say, and set about putting her house in +order. Mr. Soloman, to the great joy of those who did not deem it +prudent to make their escape, steps in to negotiate for the peace of the +house and the restoration of order. "It is all the result of a mistake," +he says laughingly, and good-naturedly, patting every one he meets on +the shoulder. "A little bit of jealousy on the part of the girl. It all +had its origin in an error that can be easily rectified. In a word, +there's much ado about nothing in the whole of it. Little affairs of +this kind are incident to fashionable society all over the world! The +lady being only scratched, is more frightened than hurt. Nobody is +killed; and if there were, why killings are become so fashionable, that +if the killed be not a gentleman, nobody thinks anything of it," he +continues. And Mr. Soloman being an excellent diplomatist, does, with +the aid of the hostess, her twelve masters of ceremony, her beadle, and +two policemen, forthwith bring the house to a more orderly condition. +But night has rolled into the page of the past, the gray dawn of morning +is peeping in at the half-closed windows, the lights burning in the +chandeliers shed a pale glow over the wearied features of those who +drag, as it were, their languid bodies to the stifled music of unwilling +slaves. And while daylight seems modestly contending with the vulgar +glare within, there appears among the pale revellers a paler ghost, who, +having stalked thrice up and down the hall, preserving the frigidity and +ghostliness of the tomb, answering not the questions that are put to +him, and otherwise deporting himself as becometh a ghost of good metal, +is being taken for a demon of wicked import. Now he pauses at the end of +the hall, faces with spectre-like stare the alarmed group at the +opposite end, rests his left elbow on his scythe-staff, and having set +his glass on the floor, points to its running sands warningly with his +right forefinger. Not a muscle does he move. "Truly a ghost!" exclaims +one. "A ghost would have vanished before this," whispers another. "Speak +to him," a third responds, as the musicians are seen to pale and leave +their benches. Madame Flamingo, pale and weary, is first to rush for the +door, shrieking as his ghostship turns his grim face upon her. Shriek +follows shriek, the lights are put out, the gray dawn plays upon and +makes doubly frightful the spectre. A Pandemonium of shriekings and +beseechings is succeeded by a stillness as of the tomb. Our ghost is +victor.</p> + + + +<hr/> +<h3>CHAPTER VIII.</h3> + +<p class='center' style='font-size:smaller'>WHAT TAKES PLACE BETWEEN GEORGE MULLHOLLAND AND MR. SNIVEL.</p> + + +<p>The man who kissed and bore away the prostrate girl was George +Mullholland.</p> + +<p>"Oh! George—George!" she whispers imploringly, as her eyes meet his; +and turning upon the couch of her chamber, where he hath lain her, +awakes to consciousness, and finds him watching over her with a lover's +solicitude. "I was not cold because I loved you less—oh no! It was to +propitiate my ambition—to be free of the bondage of this house—to +purge myself of the past—to better my future!" And she lays her pale, +nervous hand gently on his arm—then grasps his hand and presses it +fervently to her lips.</p> + +<p>Though placed beyond the pale of society—though envied by one extreme +and shunned by the other—she finds George her only true friend. He +parts and smooths gently over her polished shoulders her dishevelled +hair; he watches over her with the tenderness of a brother; he quenches +and wipes away the blood oozing from her wounded breast; he kisses and +kisses her flushed cheek, and bathes her Ion-like brow. He forgives all. +His heart would speak if his tongue had words to represent it. He would +the past were buried—the thought of having wronged him forgotten. She +recognizes in his solicitude for her the sincerity of his heart. It +touches like sweet music the tenderest chords of her own; and like +gushing fountains her great black eyes fill with tears. She buries her +face in her hands, crying, "Never, never, George, (I swear it before the +God I have wronged, but whose forgiveness I still pray,) will I again +forget my obligation to you! I care not how high in station he who seeks +me maybe. Ambitious!—I was misled. His money lured me away, but he +betrayed me in the face of his promises. Henceforth I have nothing for +this deceptive world; I receive of it nothing but betrayal—"</p> + +<p>"The world wants nothing more of either of us," interrupts George.</p> + +<p>More wounded in her feelings than in her flesh, she sobs and wrings her +hands like one in despair.</p> + +<p>"You have ambition. I am too poor to serve your ambition!"</p> + +<p>That word, too "poor," is more than her already distracted brain can +bear up under. It brings back the terrible picture of their past +history; it goads and agonizes her very soul. She throws her arms +frantically about his neck; presses him to her bosom; kisses him with +the fervor of a child. Having pledged his forgiveness with a kiss, and +sealed it by calling in a witness too often profaned on such occasions, +George calms her feelings as best he can; then he smooths with a gentle +hand the folds of her uplifted dress, and with them curtains the satin +slippers that so delicately encase her small feet. This done, he spreads +over her the richly-lined India morning-gown presented to her a few days +ago by the Judge, who, as she says, so wantonly betrayed her, and on +whom she sought revenge. Like a Delian maid, surrounded with Oriental +luxury, and reclining on satin and velvet, she flings her flowing hair +over her shoulders, nestles her weary head in the embroidered cushion, +and with the hand of her only true friend firmly grasped in her own, +soothes away into a calm sleep—that sovereign but too transient balm +for sorrowing hearts.</p> + +<p>Our scene changes. The ghost hath taken himself to the graveyard; the +morning dawns soft and sunny on what we harmlessly style the sunny city +of the sunny South. Madame Flamingo hath resolved to nail another +horse-shoe over her door. She will propitiate (so she hath it) the god +of ghosts.</p> + +<p>George Mullholland, having neither visible means of gaining a livelihood +nor a settled home, may be seen in a solitary box at Baker's, (a +coffee-house at the corner of Meeting and Market streets,) eating an +humble breakfast. About him there is a forlornness that the quick eye +never fails to discover in the manners of the homeless man. "Cleverly +done," he says, laying down the <i>Mercury</i> newspaper, in which it is set +forth that "the St. Cecilia, in consequence of an affliction in the +family of one of its principal members, postponed its assembly last +night. The theatre, in consequence of a misunderstanding between the +manager and his people, was also closed. The lecture on comparative +anatomy, by Professor Bones, which was to have been delivered at +Hibernian Hall, is, in consequence of the indisposition of the learned +Professor, put off to Tuesday evening next, when he will have, as he +deserves, an overflowing house. Tickets, as before, may be had at all +the music and bookstores." The said facetious journal was silent on the +superior attractions at the house of the old hostess; nor did it deem it +prudent to let drop a word on the misunderstanding between the patrons +of the drama and the said theatrical manager, inasmuch as it was one of +those that are sure to give rise to a very serious misunderstanding +between that functionary and his poor people.</p> + +<p>In another column the short but potent line met his eye: "An overflowing +and exceedingly fashionable house greeted the Negro Minstrels last +night. First-rate talent never goes begging in our city." George sips +his coffee and smiles. Wonderfully clever these editors are, he thinks. +They have nice apologies for public taste always on hand; set the +country by the ears now and then; and amuse themselves with carrying on +the most prudent description of wars.</p> + +<p>His own isolated condition, however, is uppermost in his mind. Poverty +and wretchedness stare him in the face on one side; chivalry, on the +other, has no bows for him while daylight lasts. Instinct whispers in +his ear—where one exists the other is sure to be.</p> + +<p>To the end that this young man will perform a somewhat important part in +the by-ways of this history, some further description of him may be +necessary. George Mullholland stands some five feet nine, is +wiry-limbed, and slender and erect of person. Of light complexion, his +features, are sharp and irregular, his face narrow and freckled, his +forehead small and retreating, his hair sandy and short-cropped. Add to +these two small, dull, gray eyes, and you have features not easily +described. Nevertheless, there are moments when his countenance wears an +expression of mildness—one in which the quick eye may read a character +more inoffensive than intrusive. A swallow-tail blue coat, of ample +skirts, and brass buttons; a bright-colored waistcoat, opening an +avalanche of shirt-bosom, blossoming with cheap jewelry; a broad, +rolling shirt-collar, tied carelessly with a blue ribbon; a +steeple-crowned hat, set on the side of his head with a challenging air; +and a pair of broadly-striped and puckered trowsers, reaching well over +a small-toed and highly-glazed boot, constitutes his dress. For the +exact set of those two last-named articles of his wardrobe he maintains +a scrupulous regard. We are compelled to acknowledge George an +importation from New York, where he would be the more readily recognized +by that vulgar epithet, too frequently used by the self-styled +refined—"a swell."</p> + +<p>Life with George is a mere drift of uncertainty. As for aims and ends, +why he sees the safer thing in having nothing to do with them. Mr. Tom +Toddleworth once advised this course, and Tom was esteemed good +authority in such matters. Like many others, his character is made up of +those yielding qualities which the teachings of good men may elevate to +usefulness, or bad men corrupt by their examples. There is a stage in +the early youth of such persons when we find their minds singularly +susceptible, and ready to give rapid growth to all the vices of depraved +men; while they are equally apt in receiving good, if good men but take +the trouble to care for them, and inculcate lessons of morality.</p> + +<p>Not having a recognized home, we may add, in resuming our story, that +George makes Baker's his accustomed haunt during the day, as do also +numerous others of his class—a class recognized and made use of by men +in the higher walks of life only at night.</p> + +<p>"Ah! ha, ha! into a tight place this time, George," laughs out Mr. +Soloman, the accommodation man, as he hastens into the room, seats +himself in the box with George, and seizes his hand with the +earnestness of a true friend. Mr. Soloman can deport himself on all +occasions with becoming good nature. "It's got out, you see."</p> + +<p>"What has got out?" interrupts George, maintaining a careless +indifference.</p> + +<p>"Come now! none of that, old fellow."</p> + +<p>"If I understood you—"</p> + +<p>"That affair last night," pursues Mr. Soloman, his delicate fingers +wandering into his more delicately-combed beard. "It'll go hard with +you. He's a stubborn old cove, that Sleepyhorn; administers the law as +Cæsar was wont to. Yesterday he sent seven to the whipping-post; to-day +he hangs two 'niggers' and a white man. There is a consolation in +getting rid of the white. I say this because no one loses a dollar by +it."</p> + +<p>George, continuing to masticate his bread, says it has nothing to do +with him. He may hang the town.</p> + +<p>"If I can do you a bit of a good turn, why here's your man. But you must +not talk that way—you must not, George, I assure you!" Mr. Soloman +assumes great seriousness of countenance, and again, in a friendly way, +takes George by the hand. "That poignard, George, was yours. It was +picked up by myself when it fell from your hand—"</p> + +<p>"My hand! my hand!" George quietly interposes, his countenance paling, +and his eyes wandering in excitement.</p> + +<p>"Now don't attempt to disguise the matter, you know! Come out on the +square—own up! Jealousy plays the devil with one now and then. I +know—I have had a touch of it; had many a little love affair in my +time—"</p> + +<p>George again interrupts by inquiring to what he is coming.</p> + +<p>"To the attempt (the accommodation man assumes an air of sternness) you +made last night on the life of that unhappy girl. It is needless," he +adds, "to plead ignorance. The Judge has the poignard; and what's more, +there are four witnesses ready to testify. It'll go hard with you, my +boy." He shakes his head warningly.</p> + +<p>"I swear before God and man I am as innocent as ignorant of the charge. +The poignard I confess is mine; but I had no part in the act of last +night, save to carry the prostrate girl—the girl I dearly love—away. +This I can prove by her own lips."</p> + +<p>Mr. Soloman, with an air of legal profundity, says: "This is all very +well in its way, George, but it won't stand in law. The law is what you +have got to get at. And when you have got at it, you must get round it; +and then you must twist it and work it every which way—only be careful +not to turn its points against yourself; that, you know, is the way we +lawyers do the thing. You'll think we're a sharp lot; and we have to be +sharp, as times are."</p> + +<p>"It is not surprising," replies George, as if waking from a fit of +abstraction, "that she should have sought revenge of one who so basely +betrayed her at the St. Cecilia—"</p> + +<p>"There, there!" Mr. Soloman interrupts, changing entirely the expression +of his countenance, "the whole thing is out! I said there was an +unexplained mystery somewhere. It was not the Judge, but me who betrayed +her to the assembly. Bless you, (he smiles, and crooking his finger, +beckons a servant, whom he orders to bring a julep,) I was bound to do +it, being the guardian of the Society's dignity, which office I have +held for years. But you don't mean to have it that the girl +attempted—(he suddenly corrects himself)—Ah, that won't do, George. +Present my compliments to Anna—I wouldn't for the world do aught to +hurt her feelings, you know that—and say I am ready to get on my knees +to her to confess myself a penitent for having injured her feelings. +Yes, I am ready to do anything that will procure her forgiveness. I +plead guilty. But she must in return forgive the Judge. He is hard in +law matters—that is, we of the law consider him so—now and then; but +laying that aside, he is one of the best old fellows in the world, loves +Anna to distraction; nor has he the worst opinion in the world of you, +George. Fact is, I have several times heard him refer to you in terms of +praise. As I said before, being the man to do you a bit of a good turn, +take my advice as a friend. The Judge has got you in his grasp, +according to every established principle of law; and having four good +and competent witnesses, (You have no voice in law, and Anna's won't +stand before a jury,) will send you up for a twelve-months' residence in +Mount Rascal."</p> + +<p>It will be almost needless here to add, that Mr. Soloman had, in an +interview with the Judge, arranged, in consideration of a goodly fee, to +assume the responsibility of the betrayal at the St. Cecilia; and also +to bring about a reconciliation between him and the girl he so +passionately sought.</p> + +<p>Keep out of the way a few days, and everything will blow over and come +right. I will procure you the Judge's friendship—yes, his money, if you +want. More than that, I will acknowledge my guilt to Anna; and being as +generous of heart as she is beautiful, she will, having discovered the +mistake, forgive me and make amends to the Judge for her foolish act.</p> + +<p>It is almost superfluous to add, that the apparent sincerity with which +the accommodation man pleaded, had its effect on the weak-minded man. He +loved dearly the girl, but poverty hung like a leaden cloud over him. +Poverty stripped him of the means of gratifying her ambition; poverty +held him fast locked in its blighting chains; poverty forbid his +rescuing her from the condition necessity had imposed upon her; poverty +was goading him into crime; and through crime only did he see the means +of securing to himself the cherished object of his love.</p> + +<p>"I am not dead to your friendship, but I am too sad at heart to make any +pledge that involves Anna, at this moment. We met in wretchedness, came +up in neglect and crime, sealed our love with the hard seal of +suffering. Oh! what a history of misery my heart could unfold, if it had +but a tongue!" George replies, in subdued accents, as a tear courses +down his cheek.</p> + +<p>Extending his hand, with an air of encouragement, Mr. Soloman says +nothing in the world would so much interest him as a history of the +relations existing between George and Anna. Their tastes, aims, and very +natures, are different. To him their connection is clothed in mystery.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h3>CHAPTER IX.</h3> + +<p class='center' style='font-size:smaller'>IN WHICH A GLEAM OF LIGHT IS SHED ON THE HISTORY OF ANNA BONARD.</p> + + +<p>A bottle of wine, and the mild, persuasive manner of Mr. Snivel, so +completely won over George's confidence, that, like one of that class +always too ready to give out their heart-achings at the touch of +sympathy, and too easily betrayed through misplaced confidence, he +commences relating his history. That of Anna is identified with it. "We +will together proceed to New York, for it is there, among haunts of vice +and depravity—"</p> + +<p>"In depth of degradation they have no counterpart on our globe," Mr. +Soloman interrupts, filling his glass.</p> + +<p>"We came up together—knew each other, but not ourselves. That was our +dark age." George pauses for a moment.</p> + +<p>"Bless you," again interrupts Mr. Soloman, tipping his glass very +politely, "I never—that is, when I hear our people who get themselves +laced into narrow-stringed Calvinism, and long-founded foreign missions, +talk—think much could have come of the dark ages. I speak after the +manner of an attorney, when I say this. We hear a deal of the dark ages, +the crimes of the dark ages, the dark idolatry of darker Africa. My word +for it, and it's something, if they had anything darker in Sodom; if +they had in Babylon a state of degradation more hardened of crime; if +in Egypt there existed a benightedness more stubbornly opposed to the +laws of God—than is to be found in that New York; that city of merchant +princes with princely palaces; that modern Pompeii into which a mighty +commerce teems its mightier gold, where a coarse throng revel in coarser +luxury, where a thousand gaudy churches rear heavenward their gaudier +steeples, then I have no pity for Sodom, not a tear to shed over fallen +Babylon, and very little love for Egypt." Mr. Snivel concludes, +saying—"proceed, young man."</p> + +<p>"Of my mother I know nothing. My father (I mean the man I called father, +but who they said was not my father, though he was the only one that +cared anything for me) was Tom English, who used to live here and there +with me about the Points. He was always looking in at Paddy Pie's, in +Orange street, and Paddy Pie got all his money, and then Paddy Pie and +him quarrelled, and we were turned out of Paddy Pie's house. So we used +to lodge here and there, in the cellars about the Points, in 'Cut Throat +Alley,' or 'Cow Bay,' or 'Murderer's Alley,' or in 'The House of the +Nine Nations,' or wherever we could get a sixpenny rag to lay down upon. +Nobody but English seemed to care for me, and English cared for nobody +but me. And English got thick with Mrs. McCarty and her three +daughters—they kept the Rookery in 'Cow Bay,' which we used to get to +up a long pair of stairs outside, and which God knows I never want to +think of again,—where sometimes fourteen or fifteen of us, men and +women, used to sleep in a little room Mrs. McCarty paid eight dollars a +month for. And Mr. Crown, who always seemed a cross sort of man, and was +agent for all the houses on the Points I thought, used to say she had it +too cheap. And English got to thinking a good deal of Mrs. McCarty, and +Mrs. McCarty's daughters got to thinking a good deal of him. And +Boatswain Bill, who lived at the house of the 'Nine Nations'—the house +they said had a bottomless pit—and English used to fight a deal about +the Miss McCartys, and Bill one night threw English over the high stoop, +down upon the pavement, and broke his arms. They said it was a wonder it +hadn't a broken his neck. Fighting Mary (Mary didn't go by that name +then) came up and took English's part, and whipped Boatswain Bill, and +said she'd whip the whole house of the 'Nine Nations' if it had spunk +enough in it to come on. But no one dare have a set-to with Mary. Mary +used to drink a deal of gin, and say—'this gin and the devil'll get us +all one of these days. I wonder if Mr. Crown'll sell bad gin to his +highness when he gets him?' Well, Bill was sent up for six months, so +the McCartys had peace in the house, and Mrs. McCarty got him little +things, and did for English until his arms got well. Then he got a +little money, (I don't know how he got it,) and Paddy Pie made good +friends with him, and got him from the Rookery, and then all his money. +I used to think all the money in the Points found its way either to the +house of Paddy Pie, or the Bottomless Pit at the house of the 'Nine +Nations,' and all the clothes to the sign of the 'Three Martyrs,' which +the man with the eagle face kept round the corner.</p> + +<p>"English used to say in one of his troubled fits, 'I'd like to be a +respectable man, and get out of this, if there was a chance, and do +something for you, George. There's no chance, you see.' And when we went +into Broadway, which we did now and then, and saw what another world it +was, and how rich everything looked, English used to shake his head and +say, 'they don't know how we live, George.'</p> + +<p>"Paddy Pie soon quarrelled with English, and being penniless again we +had to shift for ourselves. English didn't like to go back to Mrs. +McCarty, so we used to sleep at Mrs. Sullivan's cellar in 'Cut Throat +Alley.' And Mrs. Sullivan's cellar was only about twelve feet by twenty, +and high enough to stand up in, and wet enough for anything, and so +overrun with rats and vermin that we couldn't sleep. There were nine +rag-beds in the cellar, which as many as twenty-three would sometimes +sleep on, or, if they were not too tipsy, try to sleep on. And folks +used to come into the cellar at night, and be found dead in the morning. +This made such a fuss in the neighborhood (there was always a fuss when +Old Bones, the coroner, was about), and frightened so many, that Mrs. +Sullivan couldn't get lodgers for weeks. She used to nail no end of +horse-shoes over the door to keep out the ghosts of them that died last. +But it was a long while before her lodgers got courage enough to come +back. Then we went to the house of the Blazers, in 'Cow Bay,' and used +to lodge there with Yellow Bill. They said Bill was a thief by +profession; but I wasn't old enough to be a judge. Little Lizza Rock, +the nondescript, as people called her, used to live at the Blazers. Poor +Lizza had a hard time of it, and used to sigh and say she wished she was +dead. Nobody thought of her, she said, and she was nothing because she +was deformed, and a cripple. She was about four feet high, had a face +like a bull-dog, and a swollen chest, and a hunchback, a deformed leg, +and went with a crutch. She never combed her hair, and what few rags she +had on her back hung in filth. What few shillings she got were sure to +find their way either into Bill's pocket, or send her tipsy into the +'Bottomless Pit' of the house of the 'Nine Nations.' There was in the +Bottomless Pit a never-ending stream of gin that sent everybody to the +Tombs, and from the Tombs to the grave. But Lizza was good to me, and +used to take care of me, and steal little things for me from old Dan +Sullivan, who begged in Broadway, and let Yellow Bill get his money, by +getting him tipsy. And I got to liking Lizza, for we both seemed to have +no one in the world who cared for us but English. And there was always +some trouble between the Blazers and the people at the house of the +'Nine Nations.'</p> + +<p>"Well, English was hard to do for some time, and through necessity, +which he said a deal about, we were driven out of every place we had +sought shelter in. And English did something they sent him up for a +twelve-month for, and I was left to get on as I could. I was took in by +'Hard-Fisted Sall,' who always wore a knuckle-duster, and used to knock +everybody down she met, and threatened a dozen times to whip Mr. +Fitzgerald, the detective, and used to rob every one she took in tow, +and said if she could only knock down and rob the whole pumpkin-headed +corporation she should die easy, for then she would know she had done a +good thing for the public, whose money they were squandering without +once thinking how the condition of such wretches as herself could be +bettered.</p> + +<p>"English died before he had been up two months. And death reconciled the +little difficulty between him and the McCartys; and old Mrs. McCarty's +liking for him came back, and she went crying to the Bellevue and begged +them, saying she was his mother, to let her take his body away and bury +it. They let her have it, and she brought it away to the rookery, in a +red coffin, and got a clean sheet of the Blazers, and hung it up beside +the coffin, and set four candles on a table, and a little cross between +them, and then borrowed a Bible with a cross on it, and laid it upon the +coffin. Then they sent for me. I cried and kissed poor English, for poor +English was the only father I knew, and he was good to me. I never shall +forget what I saw in that little room that night. I found a dozen +friends and the McCartys there, forming a half-circle of curious and +demoniacal faces, peering over the body of English, whose face, I +thought, formed the only repose in the picture. There were two small +pictures—one of the Saviour, and the other of Kossuth—hung at the head +and feet of the corpse; and the light shed a lurid paleness over the +living and the dead. And detective Fitzgerald and another gentleman +looked in.</p> + +<p>"'Who's here to-night?' says Fitzgerald, in a friendly sort of way.</p> + +<p>"'God love ye, Mr. Fitzgerald, poor English is gone! Indeed, then, it +was the will of the Lord, and He's taken him from us—poor English!' +says Mrs. McCarty. And Fitzgerald, and the gentleman with him, entered +the den, and they shuddered and sat down at the sight of the face in the +coffin. 'Sit down, Mr. Fitzgerald, do!—and may the Lord love ye! There +was a deal of good in poor English. He's gone—so he is!' said Mrs. +McCarty, begging them to sit down, and excuse the disordered state of +her few rags. She had a hard struggle to live, God knows. They took off +their hats, and sat a few minutes in solemn silence. The rags moved at +the gentleman's side, which made him move towards the door. 'What is +there, my good woman?' he inquired. 'She's a blessed child, Mr. +Fitzgerald knows that same:' says Mrs. McCarty, turning down the rags +and revealing the wasted features of her youngest girl, a child eleven +years old, sinking in death. 'God knows she'll be better in heaven, and +herself won't be long out of it,' Mrs. McCarty twice repeated, +maintaining a singular indifference to the hand of death, already upon +the child. The gentleman left some money to buy candles for poor +English, and with Mr. Fitzgerald took himself away.</p> + +<p>"Near midnight, the tall black figure of solemn-faced Father Flaherty +stalked in. He was not pleased with the McCartys, but went to the side +of the dying child, fondled her little wasted hand in his own, and +whispered a prayer for her soul. Never shall I forget how innocently she +looked in his face while he parted the little ringlets that curled over +her brow, and told her she would soon have a better home in a better +world. Then he turned to poor English, and the cross, and the candles, +and the pictures, and the living faces that gave such a ghastliness to +the picture. Mrs. McCarty brought him a basin of water, over which he +muttered, and made it holy. Then he again muttered some unintelligible +sentences, and sprinkled the water over the dying child, over the body +of poor English, and over the living—warning Mrs. McCarty and her +daughters, as he pointed to the coffin. Then he knelt down, and they all +knelt down, and he prayed for the soul of poor English, and left. What +holy water then was left, Mrs. McCarty placed near the door, to keep the +ghosts out.</p> + +<p>"The neighbors at the Blazers took a look in, and a few friends at the +house of the 'Nine Nations' took a look in, and 'Fighting Mary,' of +Murderer's Alley, took a look in, and before Father Flaherty had got +well out of 'Cow Bay,' it got to be thought a trifle of a wake would +console Mrs. McCarty's distracted feelings. 'Hard-fisted Sall' came to +take a last look at poor English; and she said she would spend her last +shilling over poor English, and having one, it would get a drop, and a +drop dropped into the right place would do Mrs. McCarty a deal of good.</p> + +<p>"And Mrs. McCarty agreed that it wouldn't be amiss, and putting with +Sall's shilling the money that was to get the candles, I was sent to the +'Bottomless Pit' at the house of the 'Nine Nations,' where Mr. Crown had +a score with the old woman, and fetched away a quart of his gin, which +they said was getting the whole of them. The McCartys took a drop, and +the girls took a drop, and the neighbors took a drop, and they all kept +taking drops, and the drops got the better of them all. One of the Miss +McCartys got to having words with 'Fighting Mary,' about an old affair +in which poor English was concerned, and the words got to blows, when +Mr. Flanegan at the Blazers stepped in to make peace. But the whole +house got into a fight, and the lights were put out, the corpse knocked +over, and the child (it was found dead in the morning) suffocated with +the weight of bodies felled in the melee. The noise and cries of murder +brought the police rushing in, and most of them were dragged off to the +Station; and the next day being Sunday, I wandered homeless and +friendless into Sheriff street. Poor English was taken in charge by the +officers. They kept him over Monday to see if any one would come up and +claim him. No one came for him; no one knew more of him than that he +went by the name of English; no one ever heard him say where he came +from—he never said a word about my mother, or whether he had a relation +in the world. He was carted off to Potter's Field and buried. That was +the last of poor English.</p> + +<p>"We seldom got much to eat in the Points, and I had not tasted food for +twenty-four hours. I sat down on the steps of a German grocery, and was +soon ordered away by the keeper. Then I wandered into a place they +called Nightmare's Alley, where three old wooden buildings with +broken-down verandas stood, and were inhabited principally by butchers. +I sat down on the steps of one, and thought if I only had a mother, or +some one to care for me, and give me something to eat, how happy I +should be. And I cried. And a great red-faced man came out of the house, +and took me in, and gave me something to eat. His name was Mike +Mullholland, and he was good to me, and I liked him, and took his name. +And he lived with a repulsive looking woman, in a little room he paid +ten dollars a month for. He had two big dogs, and worked at day work, in +a slaughter-house in Staunton street. The dogs were known in the +neighborhood as Mullholland's dogs, and with them I used to sleep on the +rags of carpet spread for us in the room with Mullholland and his wife, +who I got to calling mother. This is how I took the name of Mullholland. +I was glad to leave the Points, and felt as if I had a home. But there +was a 'Bottomless Pit' in Sheriff street, and though not so bad as the +one at the house of the 'Nine Nations,' it gave out a deal of gin that +the Mullhollands had a liking for. I was continually going for it, and +the Mullhollands were continually drinking it; and the whole +neighborhood liked it, and in 'Nightmare's Alley' the undertaker found a +profitable business.</p> + +<p>"In the morning I went with the dogs to the slaughter-house, and there +fed them, and took care of the fighting cocks, and brought gin for the +men who worked there. In the afternoon I joined the newsboys, as ragged +and neglected as myself, gambled for cents, and watched the policemen, +whom we called the Charleys. I lived with Mullholland two years, and saw +and felt enough to make hardened any one of my age. One morning there +came a loud knocking at the door, which was followed by the entrance of +two officers. The dogs had got out and bitten a child, and the officers, +knowing who owned them, had come to arrest Mullholland. We were all +surprised, for the officers recognized in Mullholland and the woman two +old offenders. And while they were dragged off to the Tombs, I was left +to prey upon the world as best I could. Again homeless, I wandered about +with urchins as ragged and destitute as myself. It seemed to me that +everybody viewed me as an object of suspicion, for I sought in vain for +employment that would give me bread and clothing. I wanted to be honest, +and would have lived honest; but I could not make people believe me +honest. And when I told who I was, and where I sheltered myself, I was +ordered away. Everybody judged me by the filthy shreds on my back; +nobody had anything for me to do.</p> + +<p>"I applied at a grocer's, to sweep his store and go errands. When I told +him where I had lived, he shook his head and ordered me away. Knowing I +could fill a place not unknown to me, I applied at a butcher's in Mott +street; but he pointed his knife—which left a wound in my feelings—and +ordered me away. And I was ordered away wherever I went. The doors of +the Chatham theatre looked too fine for me. My ragged condition rebuked +me wherever I went, and for more than a week I slept under a cart that +stood in Mott street. Then Tom Farley found me, and took me with him to +his cellar, in Elizabeth street, where we had what I thought a good bed +of shavings. Tom sold <i>Heralds</i>, gambled for cents, and shared with me, +and we got along. Then Tom stole a dog, and the dog got us into a deal +of trouble, which ended with getting us both into the Tombs, where Tom +was locked up. I was again adrift, as we used to call it, and thought of +poor Tom a deal. Every one I met seemed higher up in the world than I +was. But I got into Centre Market, carried baskets, and did what I could +to earn a shilling, and slept in Tom's bed, where there was some nights +fifteen and twenty like myself.</p> + +<p>"One morning, while waiting a job, my feet and hands benumbed with the +cold, a beautiful lady slipped a shilling into my hand and passed on. To +one penniless and hungry, it seemed a deal of money. Necessity had +almost driven me to the sign of the 'Three Martyrs,' to see what the man +of the eagle face would give me on my cap, for they said the man at the +'Three Martyrs' lent money on rags such as I had. I followed the woman, +for there was something so good in the act that I could not resist it. +She entered a fine house in Leonard street.</p> + +<p>"You must now go with me into the den of Hag Zogbaum, in 'Scorpion +Cove;' and 'Scorpion Cove' is in Pell street. Necessity next drove me +there. It is early spring, we will suppose; and being in the Bowery, we +find the streets in its vicinity reeking with putrid matter, hurling +pestilence into the dark dwellings of the unknown poor, and making +thankful the coffin-maker, who in turn thanks a nonundertaking +corporation for the rich harvest. The muck is everywhere deep enough +for hogs and fat aldermen to wallow in, and would serve well the +purposes of a supper-eating corporation, whose chief business it was to +fatten turtles and make Presidents.</p> + +<p>"We have got through the muck of the mucky Bowery. Let us turn to the +left as we ascend the hill from Chatham street, and into a narrow, +winding way, called Doyer's street. Dutch Sophy, then, as now, sits in +all the good nature of her short, fat figure, serving her customers with +ices, at three cents. Her cunning black eyes and cheerful, ruddy face, +enhance the air of pertness that has made her a favorite with her +customers. We will pass the little wooden shop, where Mr. Saunders makes +boots of the latest style, and where old lapstone, with curious framed +spectacles tied over his bleared eyes, has for the last forty years been +seen at the window trimming welts, and mending every one's sole but his +own; we will pass the four story wooden house that the landlord never +paints—that has the little square windows, and the little square door, +and the two little iron hand rails that curl so crabbedly at the ends, +and guard four crabbeder steps that give ingress and egress to its swarm +of poor but honest tenants; we will pass the shop where a short, stylish +sign tells us Mr. Robertson makes bedsteads; and the little, slanting +house a line of yellow letters on a square of black tin tells us is a +select school for young ladies, and the bright, dainty looking house +with the green shutters, where lives Mr. Vredenburg the carpenter, who, +the neighbors say, has got up in the world, and paints his house to show +that he feels above poor folks—and find we have reached the sooty and +gin-reeking grocery of Mr. Korner, who sells the <i>devil's elixir</i> to the +sootier devils that swarm the cellars of his neighbors. The faded blue +letters, on a strip of wood nailed to the bricks over his door, tell us +he is a dealer in 'Imported and other liquors.' Next door to Mr. +Korner's tipsy looking grocery lives Mr. Muffin, the coffin-maker, who +has a large business with the disciples who look in at Korner's. Mrs. +Downey, a decent sort of body, who lives up the alley, and takes +sixpenny lodgers by the dozen, may be seen in great tribulation with her +pet pig, who, every day, much to the annoyance of Mr. Korner, manages to +get out, and into the pool of decaying matter opposite his door, where +he is sure to get stuck, and with his natural propensity, squeals +lustily for assistance. Mrs. Downey, as is her habit, gets distracted; +and having well abused Mr. Korner for his interference in a matter that +can only concern herself and the animal, ventures to her knees in the +mire, and having seized her darling pig by the two ears, does, with the +assistance of a policeman, who kindly takes him by the tail, extricate +his porkship, to the great joy of herself. The animal scampers, +grunting, up the alley, as Mr. Korner, in his shirt sleeves, throws his +broom after him, and the policeman surlily says he wishes it was the +street commissioner.</p> + +<p>"We have made the circle of Doyer's street, and find it fortified on +Pell street, with two decrepit wooden buildings, that the demand for the +'devil's elixir,' has converted into Dutch groceries, their exteriors +presenting the appearance of having withstood a storm of dilapidated +clapboards, broken shutters, red herrings, and onions. Mr. Voss looks +suspiciously through the broken shutters of his Gibraltar, at his +neighbor of the opposite Gibraltar, and is heard to say of his wares +that they are none of the best, and that while he sells sixpence a pint +less, the article is a shilling a pint better. And there the two +Gibraltars stand, apparently infirm, hurling their unerring missiles, +and making wreck of everything in the neighborhood.</p> + +<p>"We have turned down Pell street toward Mott, and on the north side a +light-colored sign, representing a smith in the act of shoeing a horse, +attracts the eye, and tells us the old cavern-like building over which +it swings, is where Mr. Mooney does smithwork and shoeing. And a little +further on, a dash of yellow and white paint on a little sign-board at +the entrance of an alley, guarded on one side by a broken-down shed, and +on the other, by a three-story, narrow, brick building (from the windows +of which trail long water-stains, and from the broken panes a dozen +curious black heads, of as many curious eyed negroes protrude), tells us +somewhat indefinitely, that Mister Mills, white-washer and wall-colorer, +may be found in the neighborhood, which, judging from outward +appearances, stands much in need of this good man's services. Just keep +your eye on the sign of the white-washer and wall-colorer, and passing +up the sickly alley it tells you Mister Mills maybe found in, you will +find yourself (having picked your way over putrid matter, and placed +your perfumed cambric where it will protect your lungs from the +inhalation of pestilential air,) in the cozy area of 'Scorpion Cove.' +Scorpion Cove is bounded at one end by a two-story wooden house, with +two decayed and broken verandas in front, and rickety steps leading here +and there to suspicious looking passages, into which, and out of which a +never-ending platoon of the rising generation crawl and toddle, keep up +a cheap serenade, and like rats, scamper away at the sight of a +stranger; and on the other, by the back of the brick house with the +negro-headed front. At the sides are two broken-down board fences, and +forming a sort of network across the cove, are an innumerable quantity +of unoccupied clothes-lines, which would seem only to serve the +mischievous propensities of young negroes and the rats. There is any +quantity of rubbish in 'Scorpion Cove,' and any amount of disease-breeding +cesspools; but the corporation never heard of 'Scorpion Cove,' and +wouldn't look into it if it had. If you ask me how it came to +be called 'Scorpion Cove,' I will tell you. The brick house at one end +was occupied by negroes; and the progeny of these negroes swarmed over +the cove, and were called scorpions. The old house of the verandas at +the other end, and which had an air of being propped up after a shock of +paralysis, was inhabited by twenty or more families, of the Teutonic +race, whose numerous progeny, called the hedge-hogs, were more than a +match for the scorpions, and with that jealousy of each other which +animates these races did the scorpions and hedge-hogs get at war. In the +morning the scorpions would crawl up through holes in the cellar, +through broken windows, through the trap-doors, down the long stairway +that wound from the second and third stories over the broken pavilion, +and from nobody could tell where—for they came, it seems, from every +rat-hole, and with rolling white eyes, marshalled themselves for battle. +The hedge-hogs mustering in similar strength, and springing up from no +one could tell where, would set upon the scorpions, and after a goodly +amount of wallowing in the mire, pulling hair and wool, scratching faces +and pommeling noses, the scorpions being alternately the victors and +vanquished, the war would end at the appearance of Hag Zogbaum, who, +with her broom, would cause the scorpions to beat a hasty retreat. The +hedge-hogs generally came off victorious, for they were the stronger +race. But the old hedge-hogs got much shattered in time by the +broadsides of the two Gibraltars, which sent them broadside on into the +Tombs. And this passion of the elder hedge-hogs for getting into the +Tombs, caused by degrees a curtailing of the younger hedge-hogs. And +this falling off in the forces of the foe, singularly inspirited the +scorpions, who mustered courage, and after a series of savage battles, +in which there was a notorious amount of wool-pulling, gained the day. +And this is how 'Scorpion Cove' got its name.</p> + +<p>"Hag Zogbaum lived in the cellar of the house with the verandas; and old +Dan Sullivan and the rats had possession of the garret. In the cellar of +this woman, whose trade was the fostering of crime in children as +destitute as myself, there was a bar and a back cellar, where as many as +twenty boys and girls slept on straw and were educated in vice. She took +me into her nursery, and I was glad to get there, for I had no other +place to go.</p> + +<p>"In the morning we were sent out to pilfer, to deceive the credulous, +and to decoy others to the den. Some were instructed by Hag Zogbaum to +affect deaf and dumb, to plead the starving condition of our parents, +to, in a word, enlist the sympathies of the credulous with an hundred +different stories. We were all stimulated by a premium being held out to +the most successful. Some were sent out to steal pieces of iron, brass, +copper, and old junk; and these Hag Zogbaum would sell or give to the +man who kept the junk-shop in Stanton street, known as the rookery at +the corner. (This man lived with Hag Zogbaum.) We returned at night with +our booty, and received our wages in gin or beer. The unsuccessful were +set down as victims of bad luck. Now and then the old woman would call +us a miserable lot of wretches she was pestered to take care of. At one +time there were in this den of wretchedness fifteen girls from seven to +eleven years old, and seven boys under eleven—all being initiated into +the by-ways of vice and crime. Among the girls were Italians, Germans, +Irish, and—shall I say it?—Americans! It was curious to see what means +the old hag would resort to for the purpose of improving their features +after they had arrived at a certain age. She had a purpose in this; and +that purpose sprang from that traffic in depravity caused by the demands +of a depraved society, a theme on her lips continually."</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h3>CHAPTER X.</h3> + +<p class='center' style='font-size:smaller'>A CONTINUATION OF GEORGE MULLHOLLAND'S HISTORY.</p> + + +<p>"Having served well the offices of felons and impostors, Hag Zogbaum +would instruct her girls in the mysteries of licentiousness. When they +reached a certain age, their personal appearance was improved, and one +by one they were passed into the hands of splendidly-dressed ladies, as +we then took them to be, who paid a sum for them to Hag Zogbaum, and +took them away; and that was the last we saw of them. They had no desire +to remain in their miserable abode, and were only too glad to get away +from it. In most cases they were homeless and neglected orphans; and +knowing no better condition, fell easy victims to the snares set for +them.</p> + +<p>"It was in this dark, cavern-like den—in this mysterious caldron of +precocious depravity, rioting unheeded in the very centre of a great +city, whose boasted wealth and civilization it might put to shame, if +indeed it were capable of shame, I first met the child of beauty, Anna +Bonard. Yes!—the Anna Bonard you now see at the house of Madame +Flamingo. At that time she was but seven years old—a child of uncommon +beauty and aptness, of delicate but well-proportioned features, of +middle stature, and a face that care might have made charming beyond +comparison. But vice hardens, corrodes, and gives a false hue to the +features. Anna said she was an orphan. How far this was true I know +not. A mystery shrouded the way in which she fell into the hands of Hag +Zogbaum. Hag Zogbaum said she got her of an apple-woman; and the +apple-woman kept a stand in West street, but never would disclose how +she came by Anna. And Mr. Tom Toddleworth, who was the chronicle of the +Points, and used to look into 'Scorpion Cove' now and then, and inquire +about Anna, as if he had a sort of interest in her, they said knew all +about her. But if he did, he always kept it a secret between himself and +Hag Zogbaum.</p> + +<p>"She was always of a melancholy turn, used to say life was but a burden +to her—that she could see nothing in the future that did not seem dark +and tortuous. The lot into which she was cast of necessity others might +have mistaken for that which she had chosen. It was not. The hard hand +of necessity had forced her into this quicksand of death; the +indifference of a naturally generous community, robbed her of the light +of intelligence, and left her a helpless victim in the hands of this +cultivator of vice. How could she, orphan as she was called, and +unencouraged, come to be a noble and generous-hearted woman? No one +offered her the means to come up and ornament her sex; but tyrannical +society neither forgets her misfortunes nor forgives her errors. Once +seal the death-warrant of a woman's errors, and you have none to come +forward and cancel it; the tomb only removes the seal. Anna took a +liking to me, and was kind to me, and looked to me to protect her. And I +loved her, and our love grew up, and strengthened; and being alike +neglected in the world, our condition served as the strongest means of +cementing our attachment.</p> + +<p>"Hag Zogbaum then sent Anna away to the house up the alley, in Elizabeth +street, where she sent most of her girls when they had reached the age +of eleven and twelve. Hag Zogbaum had many places for her female pupils. +The very best looking always went a while to the house in the alley; the +next best looking were sure to find their way into the hands of Miss +Brown, in Little Water street, and Miss Brown, they said, sold them to +the fairies of the South, who dressed them in velvet and gold; and the +'scrubs,' as the old woman used to call the rest, got, by some +mysterious process, into the hands of Paddy Pie and Tim Branahan, who +kept shantees in Orange street.</p> + +<p>"Anna had been away some time, and Mr. Tom Toddleworth had several times +been seen to look in and inquire for her. Mr. Toddleworth said he had a +ripping bid for her. At that time I was ignorant of its meaning. Harry +Rooney and me were sent to the house in Elizabeth street, one morning, +to bring Anna and another girl home. The house was large, and had an air +of neatness about it that contrasted strangely with the den in 'Scorpion +Cove.' We rang the bell and inquired for the girls, who, after waiting +nearly an hour, were sent down to us, clean and neatly dressed. In Anna +the change was so great, that though I had loved her, and thought of her +day and night during her absence, I scarce recognized her. So glad did +she seem to see me that she burst into tears, flung her arms about my +neck, and kissed me with the fondness of a sister. Then she recounted +with childlike enthusiasm the kind treatment she had received at the +house of Madame Harding (for such it was called), between whom and Hag +Zogbaum there was carried on a species of business I am not inclined to +designate here. Two kind and splendidly-dressed ladies, Anna said, +called to see them nearly every day, and were going to take them away, +that they might live like fairies all the rest of their lives.</p> + +<p>"When we got home, two ladies were waiting at the den. It was not the +first time we had seen them at the den. Anna recognized them as the +ladies she had seen at Madame Harding's. One was the woman who so kindly +gave me the shilling in the market, when I was cold and hungry. A +lengthy whispering took place between Hag Zogbaum and the ladies, and we +were ordered into the back cellar. I knew the whispering was about Anna; +and watching through the boards I heard the Hag say Anna was fourteen +and nothing less, and saw one of the ladies draw from her purse numerous +pieces of gold, which were slipped into her hand. In a few minutes more +I saw poor little Anna follow her up the steps that led into 'Scorpion +Cove.' When we were released Hag was serving ragged and dejected-looking +men with gin and beer. Anna, she said when I inquired, had gone to a +good home in the country. I loved her ardently, and being lonesome was +not content with the statement of the old woman. I could not read, but +had begun to think for myself, and something told me all was not right. +For weeks and months I watched at the house in Leonard street, into +which I had followed the woman who gave me the shilling. But I neither +saw her nor the woman. Elegant carriages, and elegantly-dressed men +drove to and from the door, and passed in and out of the house, and the +house seemed to have a deal of fashionable customers, and that was all I +knew of it then.</p> + +<p>"As I watched one night, a gentleman came out of the house, took me by +the arm and shook me, said I was a loitering vagrant, that he had seen +me before, and having a suspicious look he would order the watch to lock +me up. He inquired where my home was; and when I told him it was in +'Scorpion Cove,' he replied he didn't know where that was. I told him it +wasn't much of a home, and he said I ought to have a better one. It was +all very well to say so; but with me the case was different. That night +I met Tom Farley, who was glad to see me, and told how he got out of the +lock-up, and what he thought of the lock-up, and the jolly old Judge who +sent him to the lock-up, and who he saw in the lock-up, and what +mischief was concocted in the lock-up, and what he got to eat in the +lock-up, and how the lock-up wasn't so bad a place after all.</p> + +<p>"The fact was I was inclined to think the lock-up not so bad a place to +get into, seeing how they gave people something good to eat, and clothes +to wear. Tom and me went into business together. We sold <i>Heralds</i> and +Sunday papers, and made a good thing of it, and shared our earnings, and +got enough to eat and some clothes. I took up my stand in Centre Market, +and Tom took up his at Peck Slip. At night we would meet, count our +earnings, and give them to Mr. Crogan, who kept the cellar in Water +street, where we slept. I left Hag Zogbaum, who we got to calling the +wizard. She got all we could earn or pilfer, and we got nothing for our +backs but a few rags, and unwholesome fish and beer for our bellies. I +thought of Anna day and night; I hoped to meet in Centre Market the +woman who took her away.</p> + +<p>"I said no one ever looked in at the den in 'Scorpion Cove,' but there +was a kind little man, with sharp black eyes, and black hair, and an +earnest olive-colored face, and an earnester manner about him, who used +to look in now and then, talk kindly to us, and tell us he wished he had +a home for us all, and was rich enough to give us all enough to eat. He +hated Hag Zogbaum, and Hag Zogbaum hated him; but we all liked him +because he was kind to us, and used to shake his head, and say he would +do something for us yet. Hag Zogbaum said he was always meddling with +other people's business. At other times a man would come along and throw +tracts in at the gate of the alley. We were ignorant of what they were +intended for, and used to try to sell them at the Gibraltars. Nobody +wanted them, and nobody could read at the den, so Hag Zogbaum lighted +the fire with them, and that was the end of them.</p> + +<p>"Well, I sold papers for nearly two years, and learned to read a little +by so doing, and got up in the world a little; and being what was called +smart, attracted the attention of a printer in Nassau street, who took +me into his office, and did well by me. My mind was bent on getting a +trade. I knew I could do well for myself with a trade to lean upon. Two +years I worked faithfully at the printer's, was approaching manhood, and +with the facilities it afforded me had not failed to improve my mind and +get a tolerable good knowledge of the trade. But the image of Anna, and +the singular manner in which she disappeared, made me unhappy.</p> + +<p>"On my return from dinner one day I met in Broadway the lady who took +Anna away. The past and its trials flashed across my brain, and I turned +and followed her—found that her home was changed to Mercer street, and +this accounted for my fruitless watching in Leonard street.</p> + +<p>"The love of Anna, that had left its embers smouldering in my bosom, +quickened, and seemed to burn with redoubled ardor. It was my first and +only love; the sufferings of our childhood had made it lasting. My very +emotion rose to action as I saw the woman I knew took her away. My +anxiety to know her fate had no bounds. Dressing myself up as +respectably as it was possible with my means, I took advantage of a dark +and stormy night in the month of November to call at the house in Mercer +street, into which I had traced the lady. I rung the bell; a +sumptuously-dressed woman came to the door, which opened into a +gorgeously-decorated hall. She looked at me with an inquiring eye and +disdainful frown, inquired who I was and what I wanted. I confess I was +nervous, for the dazzling splendor of the mansion produced in me a +feeling of awe rather than admiration. I made known my mission as best I +could; the woman said no such person had ever resided there. In that +moment of disappointment I felt like casting myself away in despair. The +associations of Scorpion Cove, of the house of the Nine Nations, of the +Rookery, of Paddy Pie's—or any other den in that desert of death that +engulphs the Points, seemed holding out a solace for the melancholy that +weighed me down. But when I got back into Broadway my resolution gained +strength, and with it I wept over the folly of my thoughts.</p> + +<p>"Led by curiosity, and the air of comfort pervading the well-furnished +room, and the piously-disposed appearance of the persons who passed in +and out, I had several times looked in at the house of the 'Foreign +Missions,' as we used to call it. A man with a good-natured face used to +sit in the chair, and a wise-looking little man in spectacles (the +Secretary) used to sit a bit below him, and a dozen or two +well-disposed persons of both sexes, with sharp and anxious +countenances, used to sit round in a half circle, listening. The +wise-looking man in the spectacles would, on motion of some one present, +read a long report, which was generally made up of a list of donations +and expenditures for getting up a scheme to evangelize the world, and +get Mr. Singleton Spyke off to Antioch. It seemed to me as if a deal of +time and money was expended on Mr. Singleton Spyke, and yet Mr. Spyke +never got off to Antioch. When the man of the spectacles got through +reading the long paper, and the good-natured man in the chair got +through explaining that the heavy amount of twenty-odd thousand dollars +had been judiciously expended for the salary of officers of the society, +and the getting Brothers Spurn and Witherspoon off to enlighten the +heathen, Brother Singleton Spyke's mission would come up. Every one +agreed that there ought to be no delay in getting Brother Spyke off to +Antioch; but a small deficiency always stood in the way. And Brother +Spyke seemed spiked to this deficiency; for notwithstanding Mrs. Slocum, +who was reckoned the strongest-minded woman, and best business-man of +the society, always made speeches in favor of Brother Spyke and his +mission (a special one), he never got off to Antioch.</p> + +<p>"Feeling forlorn, smarting under disappointment, and undecided where to +go after I left the house in Mercer street, I looked in at the house of +the 'Foreign Missions.' Mrs. Slocum, as I had many times before seen +her, was warmly contesting a question concerning Brother Spyke, with the +good-natured man in the chair. It was wrong, she said, so much money +should be expended, and Brother Spyke not got off to Antioch. So leaving +them debating Mr. Spyke's mission to Antioch, I proceeded back to the +house in Mercer street, and inquired for the landlady of the house. The +landlady, the woman that opened the door said, was engaged. The door was +shut in my face, and I turned away more wounded in my feelings than +before. Day and night I contemplated some plan by which to ascertain +Anna's place of abode, her pursuit in life, her wants. When we parted +she could neither write nor read: I had taken writing lessons, by which +I could communicate tolerably well, while my occupation afforded me the +means of improvement. A few weeks passed (I continued to watch the +house), and I recognized her one afternoon, by her black, floating hair, +sitting at a second-story window of the house in Mercer street, her back +toward me. The sight was like electricity on my feelings; a transport of +joy bore away my thoughts. I gazed, and continued to gaze upon the +object, throwing, as it were, new passion into my soul. But it turned, +and there was a changed face, a face more lovely, looking eagerly into a +book. Looking eagerly into a book did not betray one who could not read. +But there was that in my heart that prompted me to look on the favorable +side of the doubt—to try a different expedient in gaining admittance to +the house. When night came, I assumed a dress those who look on +mechanics as vulgar people, would have said became a gentleman; and +approaching the house, gained easy admittance. As I was about entering +the great parlors, a familiar but somewhat changed voice at the top of +the circling stairs that led from the hall caught my ear. I paused, +listened, became entranced with suspense. Again it resounded—again my +heart throbbed with joy. It was Anna's voice, so soft and musical. The +woman who opened the door turned from me, and attempted to hush it. But +Anna seemed indifferent to the admonition, for she tripped buoyantly +down stairs, accompanying a gentleman to the door. I stood before her, a +changed person. Her recognition of me was instantaneous. Her color +changed, her lips quivered, her eyes filled with tears, her very soul +seemed fired with emotions she had no power to resist. 'George +Mullholland!' she exclaimed, throwing her arms about my neck, kissing +me, and burying her head in my bosom, and giving vent to her feelings in +tears and quickened sobs—'how I have thought of you, watched for you, +and hoped for the day when we would meet again and be happy. Oh, George! +George! how changed everything seems since we parted! It seems a long +age, and yet our sufferings, and the fondness for each other that was +created in that suffering, freshens in the mind. Dear, good George—my +protector!' she continued, clinging to me convulsively. I took her in my +arms (the scene created no little excitement in the house) and bore her +away to her chamber, which was chastely furnished, displaying a correct +taste, and otherwise suited to a princess. Having gained her presence of +mind, and become calm, she commenced relating what had occurred since we +parted at Scorpion Cove. I need not relate it at length here, for it was +similar in character to what might be told by a thousand others if they +were not powerless. For months she had been confined to the house, her +love of dress indulged to the furthest extent, her mind polluted and +initiated into the mysteries of refined licentiousness, her personal +appearance scrupulously regarded, and made to serve the object of which +she was a victim in the hands of the hostess, who made her the worse +than slave to a banker of great respectability in Wall street. This +good man and father was well down in the vale of years, had a mansion on +Fifth Avenue, and an interesting and much-beloved family. He was, in +addition, a prominent member of the commercial community; but his +example to those more ready to imitate the errors of men in high +positions, than to improve by the examples of the virtuous poor, was not +what it should be. Though a child of neglect, and schooled to +licentiousness under the very eye of a generous community, her natural +sensibility recoiled at the thought that she was a mere object of prey +to the passions of one she could not love.</p> + +<p>"She resolved to remain in this condition no longer, and escaped to +Savannah with a young man whose acquaintance she had made at the house +in Mercer street. For a time they lived at a respectable hotel, as +husband and wife. But her antecedents got out, and they got notice to +leave. The same fate met them in Charleston, to which city they removed. +Her antecedents seemed to follow her wherever she went, like haunting +spirits seeking her betrayal. She was homeless; and without a home there +was nothing open to her but that vortex of licentiousness the world +seemed pointing her to. Back she went to the house in Mercer street—was +glad to get back; was at least free from the finger of scorn. +Henceforward she associated with various friends, who sought her because +of her transcendent charms. She had cultivated a natural intelligence, +and her manners were such as might have become one in better society. +But her heart's desire was to leave the house. I took her from it; and +for a time I was happy to find that the contaminating weeds of vice had +not overgrown the more sensitive buds of virtue.</p> + +<p>"I provided a small tenement in Centre street, such as my means would +afford, and we started in the world, resolved to live respectably. But +what had maintained me respectably was now found inadequate to the +support of us both. Life in a house of sumptuous vice had rendered Anna +incapable of adapting herself to the extreme of economy now forced upon +us. Anna was taken sick; I was compelled to neglect my work, and was +discharged. Discontent, embarrassment, and poverty resulted. I struggled +to live for six months; but my prospects, my hopes of gaining an honest +living, were gone. I had no money to join the society, and the trade +being dull, could get nothing to do. Fate seemed driving us to the last +stage of distress. One by one our few pieces of furniture, our clothing, +and the few bits of jewelry Anna had presented her at the house in +Mercer street, found their way to the sign of the Three Martyrs. The man +of the eagle face would always lend something on them, and that +something relieved us for the time. I many times thought, as I passed +the house of the Foreign Missions in Centre street, where there was such +an air of comfort, that if Mrs. Abijah Slocum, and the good-natured man +who sat in the chair, and the wise little man in the spectacles, would +condescend to look in at our little place, and instead of always talking +about getting Mr. Singleton Spyke off to Antioch, take pity on our +destitution, what a relief it would be. It would have made more hearts +happy than Mr. Spyke, notwithstanding the high end of his mission, could +have softened in ten years at Antioch.</p> + +<p>"Necessity, not inclination, forced Anna back into the house in Mercer +street, when I became her friend, her transient protector. Her hand was +as ready to bestow as her heart was warm and generous. She gave me +money, and was kind to me; but the degraded character of my position +caused me to despond, to yield myself a victim to insidious vice, to +become the associate of men whose only occupation was that of gambling +and 'roping-in' unsuspecting persons. I was not long in becoming an +efficient in the arts these men practiced on the unwary. We used to meet +at the 'Subterranean,' in Church street, and there concoct our mode of +operations. And from this centre went forth, daily, men who lived by +gambling, larceny, picking pockets, counterfeiting, and passing +counterfeit money. I kept Anna ignorant of my associations. Nevertheless +I was forced to get money, for I found her affections becoming +perverted. At times her manner towards me was cold, and I sought to +change it with money.</p> + +<p>"While thus pursuing a life so precarious and exciting, I used to look +in at the 'Empire,' in Broadway, to see whom I could 'spot,' as we +called it at the 'Subterranean.' And it was here I met poor Tom Swiggs, +distracted and giving himself up to drink, in the fruitless search after +the girl of his love, from whom he had been separated, as he said, by +his mother. He had loved the girl, and the girl returned his love with +all the sincerity and ardor of her soul. But she was poor, and of poor +parents. And as such people were reckoned nothing in Charleston, his +mother locked him up in jail, and she was got out of the way. Tom opened +his heart to me, said foul means had been resorted to, and the girl had +thrown herself away, because, while he was held in close confinement, +falsehoods had been used to make her believe he had abandoned her. To +have her an outcast on his account, to have her leading the life of an +abandoned woman, and that with the more galling belief that he had +forsaken her, was more than he could bear, and he was sinking under the +burden. Instead of making him an object of my criminal profession, his +story so touched my feelings that I became his protector, saw him to his +lodgings in Green street, and ultimately got him on board a vessel bound +to Charleston.</p> + +<p>"Not many weeks after this, I, being moneyless, was the principal of a +plot by which nearly a thousand dollars was got of the old man in Wall +street, who had been Anna's friend; and fearing it might get out, I +induced her to accompany me to Charleston, where she believed I had a +prospect of bettering my condition, quitting my uncertain mode of +living, and becoming a respectable man. Together we put up at the +Charleston Hotel. But necessity again forced me to reveal to her my +circumstances, and the real cause of my leaving New York. Her hopes of +shaking off the taint of her former life seemed blasted; but she bore +the shock with resignation, and removed with me to the house of Madame +Flamingo, where we for a time lived privately. But the Judge sought her +out, followed her with the zeal of a knight, and promised, if she would +forsake me, to be her protector; to provide for her and maintain her +like a lady during her life. What progress he has made in carrying out +his promise you have seen. The English baronet imposed her upon the St. +Cecilia, and the Judge was the first to betray her."</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h3>CHAPTER XI.</h3> + +<p class='center' style='font-size:smaller'>IN WHICH THE READER IS INTRODUCED TO MR. ABSALOM McARTHUR.</p> + + +<p>You must know, reader, that King street is our Boulevard of fashion; and +though not the handsomest street in the world, nor the widest, nor the +best paved, nor the most celebrated for fine edifices, we so cherish its +age and dignity that we would not for the world change its provincial +name, or molest one of the hundred old tottering buildings that daily +threaten a dissolution upon its pavement, or permit a wench of doubtful +blood to show her head on the "north sidewalk" during promenade hours. +We are, you see, curiously nice in matters of color, and we should be. +You may not comprehend the necessity for this scrupulous regard to +caste; others do not, so you are not to blame for your ignorance of the +customs of an atmosphere you have only breathed through novels written +by steam. We don't (and you wouldn't) like to have our wives meet our +slightly-colored mistresses. And we are sure you would not like to have +your highly-educated and much-admired daughters meet those cream-colored +material evidences of your folly—called by Northern "fanatics" their +half-sisters! You would not! And your wives, like sensible women, as our +wives and daughters are, would, if by accident they did meet them, never +let you have a bit of sleep until you sent them to old Graspum's +flesh-market, had them sold, and the money put safely into their hands. +We do these things just as you would; and our wives being philosophers, +and very fashionable withal, put the money so got into fine dresses, and +a few weeks' stay at some very select watering-place in the North. If +your wife be very accomplished, (like ours,) and your daughters much +admired for their beauty, (like ours,) they will do as ours did—put +wisely the cash got for their detestable relatives into a journey of +inspection over Europe. So, you see, we keep our fashionable side of +King street; and woe be to the shady mortal that pollutes its bricks!</p> + +<p>Mr. Absalom McArthur lives on the unfashionable side of this street, in +a one-story wooden building, with a cottage roof, covered with thick, +black moss, and having two great bow windows, and a very lean door, +painted black, in front. It is a rummy old house to look at, for the +great bow windows are always ornamented with old hats, which Mr. +McArthur makes supply the place of glass; and the house itself, +notwithstanding it keeps up the dignity of a circular window over the +door, reminds one of that valiant and very notorious characteristic of +the State, for it has, during the last twenty or more years, threatened +(but never done it) to tumble upon the unfashionable pavement, just in +like manner as the State has threatened (but never done it!) to tumble +itself out of our unfashionable Union. We are a great people, you see; +but having the impediment of the Union in the way of displaying our +might, always stand ready to do what we never intended to do. We speak +in that same good-natured sense and metaphor used by our politicians, +(who are become very distinguished in the refined arts of fighting and +whiskey-drinking,) when they call for a rope to put about the neck of +every man not sufficiently stupid to acknowledge himself a secessionist. +We imagine ourselves the gigantic and sublime theatre of chivalry, as we +have a right to do; we raise up heroes of war and statesmanship, +compared with whom your Napoleons, Mirabeaus, and Marats—yes, even your +much-abused Roman orators and Athenian philosophers, sink into mere +insignificance. Nor are we bad imitators of that art displayed by the +Roman soldiers, when they entered the Forum and drenched it with +Senatorial blood! Pardon this digression, reader.</p> + +<p>Of a summer morning you will see McArthur, the old Provincialist, as he +is called, arranging in his great bow windows an innumerable variety of +antique relics, none but a Mrs. Toodles could conceive a want for—such +as broken pots, dog-irons, fenders, saws, toasters, stew-pans, old +muskets, boxing-gloves and foils, and sundry other odds and ends too +numerous to mention. At evening he sits in his door, a clever picture of +a by-gone age, on a venerable old sofa, supported on legs tapering into +feet of lion's paws, and carved in mahogany, all tacked over with +brass-headed nails. Here the old man sits, and sits, and sits, reading +the "Heroes of the Revolution," (the only book he ever reads,) and +seemingly ready at all times to serve the "good wishes" of his +customers, who he will tell you are of the very first families, and very +distinguished! He holds distinguished peoples in high esteem; and +several distinguished persons have no very bad opinion of him, but a +much better one of his very interesting daughter, whose acquaintance +(though not a lady, in the Southern acceptation of the term) they would +not object to making—provided!</p> + +<p>His little shop is lumbered with boxes and barrels, all containing +relics of a by-gone age—such as broken swords, pistols of curious make, +revolutionary hand-saws, planes, cuirasses, broken spurs, blunderbusses, +bowie, scalping, and hunting-knives; all of which he declares our great +men have a use for. Hung on a little post, and over a pair of rather +suspicious-looking buckskin breeches, is a rusty helmet, which he +sincerely believes was worn by a knight of the days of William the +Conqueror. A little counter to the left staggers under a pile of musty +old books and mustier papers, all containing valuable matter relating to +the old Continentals, who, as he has it, were all Carolinians. (Dispute +this, and he will go right into a passion.) Resting like good-natured +policemen against this weary old counter are two sympathetic old +coffins, several second-hand crutches, and a quantity of much-neglected +wooden legs. These Mr. McArthur says are in great demand with our first +families. No one, except Mr. Soloman Snivel, knows better what the +chivalry stand in need of to prop up its declining dignity. His dirty +little shelves, too, are stuffed with those cheap uniforms the State so +grudgingly voted its unwilling volunteers during the Revolution.<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> +Tucked in here and there, at sixes and sevens, are the scarlet and blue +of several suits of cast-off theatrical wardrobe he got of Abbott, and +now loans for a small trifle to Madame Flamingo and the St. Cecilia +Society—the first, when she gives her very seductive <i>balmasques</i>; the +second, when distinguished foreigners with titles honor its costume +balls. As for Revolutionary cocked hats, epaulettes, plumes, and +holsters, he has enough to supply and send off, feeling as proud as +peacocks, every General and Colonel in the State—and their name, as +you ought to know, reader, is legion.</p> + +<p>The stranger might, indeed, be deceived into the belief that Absalom +McArthur's curiosity shop was capable of furnishing accoutrements for +that noble little army, (standing army we call it!) on which the State +prides itself not a little, and spends no end of money. For ourselves, +(if the reader but permit us,) we have long admired this little Spartan +force, saying all the good things of it our prosy brain could invent, +and in the kindest manner recommending its uniform good character as a +model for our very respectable society to fashion after. Indeed, we +have, in the very best nature of a modern historian, endeavored to +enlighten the barbarian world outside of South Carolina as to the +terrible consequences which might accrue to the Union did this noble +little army assume any other than a standing character. Now that General +Jackson is out of the way, and our plebeian friends over the Savannah, +whom we hold in high esteem, (the Georgians,) kindly consent to let us +go our own road out of the Union, nothing can be more grateful than to +find our wise politicians sincerely believing that when this standing +army, of which other States know so little, shall have become allied +with those mighty men of Beaufort, dire consequences to this young but +very respectable Federal compact will be the result. Having discharged +the duties of a historian, for the benefit of those benighted beings +unfortunate enough to live out of our small but highly-civilized State, +we must return to McArthur.</p> + +<p>He is a little old-maidish about his age, which for the last twenty +years has not got a day more than fifty-four. Being as sensitive of his +veracity as the State is of its dignity, we would not, either by +implication or otherwise, lay an impeachment at his door, but rather +charge the discrepancy to that sin (a treacherous memory) the legal +gentry find so convenient for their purposes when they knock down their +own positions. McArthur stood five feet eight exactly, when young, but +age has made him lean of person, and somewhat bent. His face is long and +corrugated; his expression of countenance singularly serious. A nose, +neither aquiline nor Grecian, but large enough, and long enough, and red +enough at the end, to make both; a sharp and curiously-projecting chin, +that threatens a meeting, at no very distant day, with his nasal organ; +two small, watchful blue eyes deep-set under narrow arches, fringed with +long gray lashes; a deeply-furrowed, but straight and contracted +forehead, and a shaggy red wig, poised upon the crown of his head, and, +reader, if you except the constant working of a heavy, drooping lower +lip, and the diagonal sight with which his eyes are favored, you have +his most prominent features. Fashion he holds in utter contempt, nor has +he the very best opinion in the world of our fashionable tailors, who +are grown so rich that they hold mortgages on the very best plantations +in the State, and offer themselves candidates for the Governorship. +Indeed, Mr. McArthur says, one of these knights of the goose, not long +since, had the pertinacity to imagine himself a great General. And to +show his tenacious adherence to the examples set by the State, he +dresses exactly as his grandfather's great-grandfather used to, in a +blue coat, with small brass buttons, a narrow crimpy collar, and tails +long enough and sharp enough for a clipper-ship's run. The periods when +he provided himself with new suits are so far apart that they formed +special episodes in his history; nevertheless there is always an air of +neatness about him, and he will spend much time arranging a dingy +ruffled shirt, a pair of gray trowsers, a black velvet waistcoat, cut in +the Elizabethan style, and a high, square shirt collar, into which his +head has the appearance of being jammed. This collar he ties with a +much-valued red and yellow Spittlefields, the ends of which flow over +his ruffle. Although the old man would not bring much at the +man-shambles, we set a great deal of store by him, and would not +exchange him for anything in the world but a regiment or two of heroic +secessionists. Indeed we are fully aware that nothing like him exists +beyond the highly perfumed atmosphere of our State. And to many other +curious accomplishments the old man adds that of telling fortunes. The +negroes seriously believe he has a private arrangement with the devil, +of whom he gets his wisdom, and the secret of propitiating the gods.</p> + +<p>Two days have passed since the <i>emeute</i> at the house of the old hostess. +McArthur has promised the young missionary a place for Tom Swiggs, when +he gets out of prison (but no one but his mother seems to have a right +to let him out), and the tall figure of Mister Snivel is seen entering +the little curiosity shop. "I say!—my old hero, has she been here yet?" +inquires Mr. Snivel, the accommodation man. "Nay, good friend," returns +the old man, rising from his sofa, and returning the salutation, "she +has not yet darkened the door." The old man draws the steel-bowed +spectacles from his face, and watches with a patriarchal air any change +that comes over the accommodation man's countenance. "Now, good friend, +if I did but know the plot," pursues the old man.</p> + +<p>"The plot you are not to know! I gave you her history yesterday—that +is, as far as I know it. You must make up the rest. You know how to tell +fortunes, old boy. I need not instruct you. Mind you flatter her beauty, +though—extend on the kindness of the Judge, and be sure you get it in +that it was me who betrayed her at the St. Cecelia. All right old boy, +eh?" and shaking McArthur by the hand warmly, he takes his departure, +bowing himself into the street. The old man says he will be all ready +when she comes.</p> + +<p>Scarcely has the accommodation man passed out of sight when a +sallow-faced stripling makes his appearance, and with that +characteristic effrontery for borrowing and never returning, of the +property-man of a country theatre, "desires" to know if Mr. McArthur +will lend him a skull.</p> + +<p>"A skull!" ejaculates the old man, his bony fingers wandering to his +melancholy lip—"a skull!" and he fusses studiously round the little +cell-like place, looking distrustfully at the property-man, and then +turning an anxious eye towards his piles of rubbish, as if fearing some +plot is on foot to remove them to the infernal regions.</p> + +<p>"You see," interrupts Mr. Property, "we play Hamlet to-night—expect a +crammed house—and our star, being scrupulous of his reputation, as all +small stars are, won't go on for the scene of the grave-digger, without +two skulls—he swears he won't! He raised the very roof of the theatre +this morning, because his name wasn't in bigger type on the bill. And if +we don't give him two skulls and plenty of bones to-night, he +swears—and such swearing as it is!—he'll forfeit the manager, have the +house closed, and come out with a card to the public in the morning. We +are in a fix, you see! The janitor only has one, and he lent us that as +if he didn't want to."</p> + +<p>Mr. McArthur says he sees, and with an air of regained wisdom stops +suddenly, and takes from a shelf a dingy old board, on which is a +dingier paper, bearing curious inscriptions, no one but the old man +himself would have supposed to be a schedule of stock in trade. Such it +is, nevertheless. He rubs his spectacles, places them methodically upon +his face, wipes and wipes the old board with his elbow. "It's here if +it's anywhere!" says the old man, with a sigh. "It comes into my head +that among the rest of my valuables I've Yorick's skull."</p> + +<p>"The very skull we want!" interrupts Property. And the old man quickens +the working of his lower jaw, and continues to rub at the board until he +has brought out the written mystery. "My ancestors were great people," +he mumbles to himself, "great people!" He runs the crusty forefinger of +his right hand up and down the board, adding, "and my customers are all +of the first families, which is some consolation in one's poverty. Ah! I +have it here!" he exclaims, with childlike exultation, frisking his +fingers over the board. "One Yorick's skull—a time-worn, tenantless, +and valuable relic, in which graveyard worms have banqueted more than +once. Yes, young man, presented to my ancestors by the elder Stuarts, +and on that account worth seven skulls, or more." "One Yorick's skull," +is written on the paper, upon which the old man presses firmly his +finger. Then turning to an old box standing in the little fireplace +behind the counter, saying, "it's in here—as my name's Absalom +McArthur, it is," he opens the lid, and draws forth several old military +coats (they have seen revolutionary days! he says, exultingly), numerous +scales of brass, such as are worn on British soldiers' hats, a ponderous +chapeau and epaulets, worn, he insists, by Lord Nelson at the renowned +battle of Trafalgar. He has not opened, he adds, this box for more than +twelve long years. Next he drags forth a military cloak of great weight +and dimensions. "Ah!" he exclaims, with nervous joy, "here's the +identical cloak worn by Lord Cornwallis—how my ancestors used to prize +it." And as he unrolls its great folds there falls upon the floor, to +his great surprise, an old buff-colored silk dress, tied firmly with a +narrow, green ribbon. "Maria! Maria! Maria!" shouts the old man, as if +suddenly seized with a spasm. And his little gray eyes flash with +excitement, as he says—"if here hasn't come to light at last, poor Mag +Munday's dress. God forgive the poor wretch, she's dead and gone, no +doubt." In response to the name of "Maria" there protrudes from a little +door that opens into a passage leading to a back-room, the delicate +figure of a female, with a face of great paleness, overcast by a +thoughtful expression. She has a finely-developed head, intelligent blue +eyes, light auburn hair, and features more interesting than regular. +Indeed, there is more to admire in the peculiar modesty of her demeanor +than in the regularity of her features, as we shall show. "My daughter!" +says the old man, as she nervously advances, her pale hand extended. +"Poor woman! how she would mourn about this old dress; and say it +contained something that might give her a chance in the world," she +rather whispers than speaks, disclosing two rows of small white teeth. +She takes from the old man's hand the package, and disappears. The +anxiety she evinces over the charge discloses the fact that there is +something of deep interest connected with it.</p> + +<p>Mr. McArthur was about to relate how he came by this seemingly +worthless old package, when the property-man, becoming somewhat +restless, and not holding in over high respect the old man's rubbish, as +he called it in his thoughts, commences drawing forth, piece after piece +of the old relics. The old man will not allow this. "There, young man!" +he says, touching him on the elbow, and resuming his labor. At length he +draws forth the dust-tenanted skull, coated on the outer surface with +greasy mould. "There!" he says, with an unrestrained exclamation of joy, +holding up the wasting bone, "this was in its time poor Yorick's skull. +It was such a skull, when Yorick lived! Beneath this filthy remnant of +past greatness (I always think of greatness when I turn to the past), +this empty tenement, once the domain of wisdom, this poor bone, what +thoughts did not come out?" And the old man shakes his head, mutters +inarticulately, and weeps with the simplicity of a child.</p> + +<p>"The Star'll have skulls and bones enough to make up for his want of +talent now—I reckon," interposes the property-man. "But!—I say, +mister, this skull couldn't a bin old Yorick's, you know—"</p> + +<p>"Yorick's!—why not?" interrupts the old man.</p> + +<p>"Because Yorick—Yorick was the King's jester, you see—no nigger; and +no one would think of importing anything but a nigger's skull into +Charleston—"</p> + +<p>"Young man!—if this skull had consciousness; if this had a tongue it +would rebuke thee;" the old man retorts hastily, "for my ancestors knew +Yorick, and Yorick kept up an intimate acquaintance with the ancestors +of the very first families in this State, who were not shoemakers and +milliners, as hath been maliciously charged, but good and pious +Huguenots." To the end that he may convince the unbelieving Thespian of +the truth of his assertion, he commences to rub away the black coating +with the sleeve of his coat, and there, to his infinite delight, is +written, across the crown, in letters of red that stand out as bold as +the State's chivalry—"Alas! poor Yorick." Tears of sympathy trickle +down the old man's cheeks, his eyes sparkle with excitement, and with +womanly accents he mutters: "the days of poetry and chivalry are gone. +It is but a space of time since this good man's wit made Kings and +Princes laugh with joy."</p> + +<p>This skull, and a coral pin, which he said was presented to his +ancestors by Lord Cornwallis, who they captured, now became his hobby; +and he referred to it in all his conversation, and made them as much his +idol as our politicians do secession. In this instance, he dare not +entrust his newly-discovered jewel to the vulgar hands of Mr. Property, +but pledged his honor—a ware the State deals largely in notwithstanding +it has become exceedingly cheap—it would be forthcoming at the +requisite time.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h3>CHAPTER XII.</h3> + +<p class='center' style='font-size:smaller'>IN WHICH ARE MATTERS THE READER MAY HAVE ANTICIPATED.</p> + + +<p>Mr. Soloman Snivel has effected a reconciliation between old Judge +Sleepyhorn and the beautiful Anna Bonard, and he has flattered the +weak-minded George Mullholland into a belief that the old Judge, as he +styles him, is his very best friend. So matters go on swimmingly at the +house of Madame Flamingo. Indeed Mr. Soloman can make himself extremely +useful in any affair requiring the exercise of nice diplomatic skill—no +matter whether it be of love or law. He gets people into debt, and out +of debt; into bankruptcy and out of bankruptcy; into jail and out of +jail; into society and out of society. He has officiated in almost every +capacity but that of a sexton. If you want money, Mr. Soloman can always +arrange the little matter for you. If you have old negroes you want to +get off your hands at a low figure, he has a customer. If you want to +mortgage your negro property, a thing not uncommon with our very first +families, Mr. Soloman is your man. Are you worth a fee, and want legal +advice, he will give it exactly to your liking. Indeed, he will lie you +into the most hopeless suit, and with equal pertinacity lie you out of +the very best. Every judge is his friend and most intimate acquaintance. +He is always rollicking, frisking, and insinuating himself into +something, affects to be the most liberal sort of a companion, never +refuses to drink when invited, but never invites any one unless he has a +motive beyond friendship. Mr. Keepum, the wealthy lottery broker, who +lives over the way, in Broad street, in the house with the mysterious +signs, is his money-man. This Keepum, the man with the sharp visage and +guilty countenance, has an excellent standing in society, having got it +as the reward of killing two men. Neither of these deeds of heroism, +however, were the result of a duel. Between these worthies there exists +relations mutually profitable, if not the most honorable. And +notwithstanding Mr. Soloman is forever sounding Mr. Keepum's generosity, +the said Keepum has a singular faculty for holding with a firm grasp all +he gets, the extent of his charities being a small mite now and then to +Mr. Hadger, the very pious agent for the New York Presbyterian Tract +Society. Mr. Hadger, who by trading in things called negroes, and such +like wares, has become a man of great means, twice every year badgers +the community in behalf of this society, and chuckles over what he gets +of Keepum, as if a knave's money was a sure panacea for the cure of +souls saved through the medium of those highly respectable tracts the +society publishes to suit the tastes of the god slavery. Mr. Keepum, +too, has a very high opinion of this excellent society, as he calls it, +and never fails to boast of his contributions.</p> + +<p>It is night. The serene and bright sky is hung with brighter stars. Our +little fashionable world has got itself arrayed in its best satin—and +is in a flutter. Carriages, with servants in snobby coats, beset the +doors of the theatre. A flashing of silks, satins, brocades, tulle and +jewelry, distinguished the throng pressing eagerly into the lobbies, +and seeking with more confusion than grace seats in the dress circle. +The orchestra has played an overture, and the house presents a lively +picture of bright-colored robes. Mr. Snivel's handsome figure is seen +looming out of a private box in the left-hand proceniums, behind the +curtain of which, and on the opposite side, a mysterious hand every now +and then frisks, makes a small but prudent opening, and disappears. +Again it appears, with delicate and chastely-jeweled fingers. Cautiously +the red curtain moves aside apace, and the dark languishing eyes of a +female, scanning over the dress-circle, are revealed. She recognizes the +venerable figure of Judge Sleepyhorn, who has made a companion of George +Mullholland, and sits at his side in the parquette. Timidly she closes +the curtain.</p> + +<p>In the right-hand procenium box sits, resplendent of jewels and laces, +and surrounded by her many admirers, the beautiful and very fashionable +Madame Montford, a woman of singularly regular features, and more than +ordinary charms. Opinion is somewhat divided on the early history of +Madame Montford. Some have it one thing, some another. Society is sure +to slander a woman of transcendent beauty and intellect. There is +nothing in the world more natural, especially when those charms attract +fashionable admirers. It is equally true, too, that if you would wipe +out any little taint that may hang about the skirts of your character +you must seek the panacea in a distant State, where, with the +application of a little diplomacy you may become the much sought for +wonder of a new atmosphere and new friends, as is the case with Madame +Montford, who rebukes her New York neighbors of the Fifth Avenue (she +has a princely mansion there), with the fact that in Charleston she is, +whenever she visits it, the all-absorbing topic with fashionable +society. For four successive winters Madame Montford has honored the +elite of Charleston with her presence. The advent of her coming, too, +has been duly heralded in the morning papers—to the infinite delight of +the St. Cecilia Society, which never fails to distinguish her arrival +with a ball. And this ball is sure to be preceded with no end of +delicately-perfumed cards, and other missives, as full of compliments as +it is capable of cramming them. There is, notwithstanding all these +ovations in honor of her coming, a mystery hanging over her periodical +visits, for the sharp-eyed persist that they have seen her disguised, +and in suspicious places, making singular inquiries about a woman of the +name of Mag Munday. And these suspicions have given rise to whisperings, +and these whisperings have crept into the ears of several very old and +highly-respectable "first families," which said families have suddenly +dropped her acquaintance. But what is more noticeable in the features of +Madame Montford, is the striking similarity between them and Anna +Bonard's. Her most fervent admirers have noticed it; while strangers +have not failed to discover it, and to comment upon it. And the girl who +sits in the box with Mr. Snivel, so cautiously fortifying herself with +the curtain, is none other than Anna. Mr. Snivel has brought her here as +an atonement for past injuries.</p> + +<p>Just as the curtain is about to rise, Mr. McArthur, true to his word, +may be seen toddling to the stage door, his treasure carefully tied up +in a handkerchief. He will deliver it to no one but the manager, and in +spite of his other duties that functionary is compelled to receive it in +person. This done, the old man, to the merriment of certain wags who +delight to speculate on his childlike credulity, takes a seat in the +parquette, wipes clean his venerable spectacles, and placing them +methodically over his eyes, forms a unique picture in the foreground of +the audience. McArthur, with the aid of his glasses, can recognize +objects at a distance; and as the Hamlet of the night is decidedly +Teutonic in his appearance and pronunciation, he has no great relish for +the Star, nor a hand of applause to bestow on his genius. Hamlet, he is +sure, never articulated with a coarse brogue. So turning from the stage, +he amuses himself with minutely scanning the faces of the audience, and +resolving in his mind that something will turn up in the grave-digger's +scene, of which he is an enthusiastic admirer. It is, indeed, he thinks +to himself, very doubtful, whether in this wide world the much-abused +William Shakspeare hath a more ardent admirer of this curious but +faithful illustration of his genius. Suddenly his attention seems +riveted on the private box, in which sits the stately figure of Madame +Montford, flanked in a half-circle by her perfumed and white-gloved +admirers. "What!" exclaims the old man, in surprise, rubbing and +replacing his glasses, "if I'm not deceived! Well—I can't be. If there +isn't the very woman, a little altered, who has several times looked +into my little place of an evening. Her questions were so curious that I +couldn't make out what she really wanted (she never bought anything); +but she always ended with inquiring about poor Mag Munday. People think +because I have all sorts of things, that I must know about all sorts of +things. I never could tell her much that satisfied her, for Mag, report +had it, was carried off by the yellow fever, and nobody ever thought of +her afterwards. And because I couldn't tell this woman any more, she +would go away with tears in her eyes." Mr. McArthur whispers to a friend +on his right, and touches him on the arm, "Pooh! pooh!" returns the man, +with measured indifference, "that's the reigning belle of the +season—Madame Montford, the buxom widow, who has been just turned forty +for some years."</p> + +<p>The play proceeds, and soon the old man's attention is drawn from the +Widow Montford by the near approach to the scene of the grave-digger. +And as that delineator enters the grave, and commences his tune, the old +man's anxiety increases.</p> + +<p>A twitching and shrugging of the shoulders, discovers Mr. McArthur's +feelings. The grave-digger, to the great delight of the Star, bespreads +the stage with a multiplicity of bones. Then he follows them with a +skull, the appearance of which causes Mr. McArthur to exclaim, "Ah! +that's my poor Yorick." He rises from his seat, and abstractedly stares +at the Star, then at the audience. The audience gives out a spontaneous +burst of applause, which the Teutonic Hamlet is inclined to regard as an +indignity offered to superior talent. A short pause and his face +brightens with a smile, the grave-digger shoulders his pick, and with +the thumb of his right hand to his nasal organ, throws himself into a +comical attitude. The audience roar with delight; the Star, ignorant of +the cause of what he esteems a continued insult, waves his plumes to the +audience, and with an air of contempt walks off the stage.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h3>CHAPTER XIII.</h3> + +<p class='center' style='font-size:smaller'>MRS. SWIGGS COMES TO THE RESCUE OF THE HOUSE OF THE FOREIGN MISSIONS.</p> + + +<p>"An excellent society—excellent, I assure you, Madame—"</p> + +<p>"Truly, Mr. Hadger," interrupted Mrs. Swiggs, "your labors on behalf of +this Tract Society will be rewarded in heaven—"</p> + +<p>"Dear-a-me," Mr. Hadger returns, ere Mrs. Swiggs can finish her +sentence, "don't mention such a thing. I assure you it is a labor of +love."</p> + +<p>"Their tracts are so carefully got up. If my poor old negro property +could only read—(Mrs. Swiggs pauses.) I was going to say—if it wasn't +for the law (again she pauses), we couldn't prejudice our cause by +letting our negroes read them—"</p> + +<p>"Excuse the interruption," Mr. Hadger says, "but it wouldn't, do, +notwithstanding (no one can be more liberal than myself on the subject +of enlightening our negro property!) the Tract Society exhibits such an +unexceptionable regard to the requirements of our cherished institution."</p> + +<p>This conversation passes between Mrs. Swiggs and Mr. Hadger, who, as he +says with great urbanity of manner, just dropped in to announce joyous +tidings. He has a letter from Sister Abijah Slocum, which came to hand +this morning, enclosing one delicately enveloped for Sister Swiggs. +"The Lord is our guide," says Mrs. Swiggs, hastily reaching out her hand +and receiving the letter. "Heaven will reward her for the interest she +takes in the heathen world."</p> + +<p>"Truly, if she hath not now, she will have there a monument of gold," +Mr. Hadger piously pursues, adding a sigh.</p> + +<p>"There! there!—my neuralgy; it's all down my left side. I'm not long +for this world, you see!" Mrs. Swiggs breaks out suddenly, then twitches +her head and oscillates her chin. And as if some electric current had +changed the train of her thoughts, she testily seizes hold of her +Milton, and says: "I have got my Tom up again—yes I have, Mr. Hadger."</p> + +<p>Mr. Hadger discovers the sudden flight her thoughts have taken: "I am +sure," he interposes, "that so long as Sister Slocum remains a member of +the Tract Society we may continue our patronage."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Swiggs is pleased to remind Mr. Hadger, that although her means +have been exceedingly narrowed down, she has not, for the last ten +years, failed to give her mite, which she divides between the house of +the "Foreign Missions," and the "Tract Society."</p> + +<p>A nice, smooth-faced man, somewhat clerically dressed, straight and +portly of person, and most unexceptionable in his morals, is Mr. Hadger. +A smile of Christian resignation and brotherly love happily ornaments +his countenance; and then, there is something venerable about his +nicely-combed gray whiskers, his white cravat, his snowy hair, his mild +brown eyes, and his pleasing voice. One is almost constrained to receive +him as the ideal of virtue absolved in sackcloth and ashes. As an +evidence of our generosity, we regard him an excellent Christian, whose +life hath been purified with an immense traffic in human——(perhaps +some good friend will crack our skull for saying it).</p> + +<p>In truth (though we never could find a solution in the Bible for it), as +the traffic in human property increased Mr. Hadger's riches, so also did +it in a corresponding ratio increase his piety. There is, indeed, a +singular connection existing between piety and slavery; but to analyze +it properly requires the mind of a philosopher, so strange is the +blending.</p> + +<p>Brother Hadger takes a sup of ice-water, and commences reading Sister +Slocum's letter, which runs thus:</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 25em;"> +"<span class="smcap">New York</span>, May —, 1850.</p> +<p>"<span class="smcap">Dear Brother Hadger</span>: +</p> + +<p>"Justice and Mercy is the motto of the cause we have lent our hands and +hearts to promote. Only yesterday we had a gathering of kind spirits at +the Mission House in Centre street, where, thank God, all was peace and +love. We had, too, an anxious gathering at the 'Tract Society's rooms.' +There it was not so much peace and love as could have been desired. +Brother Bight seemed earnest, but said many unwise things; and Brother +Scratch let out some very unwise indiscretions which you will find in +the reports I send. There was some excitement, and something said about +what we got from the South not being of God's chosen earnings. And there +was something more let off by our indiscreet Brothers against the +getting up of the tracts. But we had a majority, and voted down our +indiscreet Brothers, inasmuch as it was shown to be necessary not to +offend our good friends in the South. Not to give offence to a Brother +is good in the sight of the Lord, and this Brother Primrose argued in a +most Christian speech of four long hours or more, and which had the +effect of convincing every one how necessary it was to free the <i>tracts</i> +of everything offensive to your cherished institution. And though we did +not, Brother Hadger, break up in the continuance of that love we were +wont to when you were among us, we sustained the principle that seemeth +most acceptable to you—we gained the victory over our disaffected +Brothers. And I am desired on behalf of the Society, to thank you for +the handsome remittance, hoping you will make it known, through peace +and love, to those who kindly contributed toward it. The Board of +'Foreign Missions,' as you will see by the report, also passed a vote of +thanks for your favor. How grateful to think what one will do to +enlighten the heathen world, and how many will receive a tract through +the medium of the other.</p> + +<p>"We are now in want of a few thousand dollars, to get the Rev. Singleton +Spyke, a most excellent person, off to Antioch. Aid us with a mite, +Brother Hadger, for his mission is one of God's own. The enclosed letter +is an appeal to Sister Swiggs, whose yearly mites have gone far, very +far, to aid us in the good but mighty work now to be done. Sister Swiggs +will have her reward in heaven for these her good gifts. How thankful +should she be to Him who provides all things, and thus enableth her to +bestow liberally.</p> + +<p>"And now, Brother, I must say adieu! May you continue to live in the +spirit of Christian love. And may you never feel the want of these mites +bestowed in the cause of the poor heathen.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 25em;"> +"<span class="smcap">Sister Abijah Slocum.</span>" +</p> + +<p>"May the good be comforted!" ejaculates Mrs. Swiggs, as Mr. Hadger +concludes. She has listened with absorbed attention to every word, at +times bowing, and adding a word of approval. Mr. Hadger hopes something +may be done in this good cause, and having interchanged sundry +compliments, takes his departure, old Rebecca opening the door.</p> + +<p>"Glad he's gone!" the old lady says to herself. "I am so anxious to hear +the good tidings Sister Slocum's letter conveys." She wipes and wipes +her venerable spectacles, adjusts them piquantly over her small, wicked +eyes, gives her elaborate cap-border a twitch forward, frets her finger +nervously over the letter, and gets herself into a general state of +confritteration. "There!" she says, entirely forgetting her Milton, +which has fallen on the floor, to the great satisfaction of the worthy +old cat, who makes manifest his regard for it by coiling himself down +beside it, "God bless her. It makes my heart leap with joy when I see +her writing," she pursues, as old Rebecca stands contemplating her, with +serious and sullen countenance. Having prilled and fussed over the +letter, she commences reading in a half whisper:</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 25em;"> +"<span class="smcap">No. —,4th Avenue, New York</span>,</p> +<p style="margin-left: 29em;">May —, 1850.</p> +<p> +"<span class="smcap">Much Beloved Sister:</span> +</p> + +<p>"I am, as you know, always overwhelmed with business; and having hoped +the Lord in his goodness yet spares you to us, and gives you health and +bounty wherewith to do good, must be pardoned for my brevity. The Lord +prospers our missions among the heathen, and the Tract Society continues +to make its labors known throughout the country. It, as you will see by +the tracts I send herewith, still continues that scrupulous regard to +the character of your domestic institution which has hitherto +characterized it. Nothing is permitted to creep into them that in any +way relates to your domestics, or that can give pain to the delicate +sensibilities of your very excellent and generous people. We would do +good to all without giving pain to any one. Oh! Sister, you know what a +wicked world this is, and how it becomes us to labor for the good of +others. But what is this world compared with the darkness of the heathen +world, and those poor wretches ('Sure enough!' says Mrs. Swiggs) who eat +one another, never have heard of a God, and prefer rather to worship +idols of wood and stone. When I contemplate this dreadful darkness, +which I do night and day, day and night, I invoke the Spirit to give me +renewed strength to go forward in the good work of bringing from +darkness ('Just as I feel,' thinks Mrs. Swiggs) unto light those poor +benighted wretches of the heathen world. How often I have wished you +could be here with us, to add life and spirit to our cause—to aid us in +beating down Satan, and when we have got him down not to let him up. The +heathen world never will be what it should be until Satan is bankrupt, +deprived of his arts, and chained to the post of humiliation—never! ('I +wish I had him where my Tom is!' Mrs. Swiggs mutters to herself.) Do +come on here, Sister. We will give you an excellent reception, and make +you so happy while you sojourn among us. And now, Sister, having never +appealed to you in vain, we again extend our hand, hoping you will favor +the several very excellent projects we now have on hand. First, we have +a project—a very excellent one, on hand, for evangelizing the world; +second, in consideration of what has been done in the reign of the +Seven Churches—Pergamos Thyatira, Magnesia, Cassaba, Demish, and +Baindir, where all is darkness, we have conceived a mission to Antioch; +and third, we have been earnestly engaged in, and have spent a few +thousand dollars over a project of the 'Tract Society,' which is the +getting up of no less than one or two million of their excellent tracts, +for the Dahomy field of missionary labor—such as the Egba mission, the +Yoruba mission, and the Ijebu missions. Oh! Sister, what a field of +labor is here open to us. And what a source of joy and thankfulness it +should be to us that we have the means to labor in those fields of +darkness. We have selected brother Singleton Spyke, a young man of great +promise, for this all-important mission to Antioch. He has been for the +last four years growing in grace and wisdom. No expense has been spared +in everything necessary to his perfection, not even in the selection of +a partner suited to his prospects and future happiness. We now want a +few thousand dollars to make up the sum requisite to his mission, and +pay the expenses of getting him off. Come to our assistance, dear +Sister—do come! Share with us your mite in this great work of +enlightening the heathen, and know that your deeds are recorded in +heaven. ('Verily!' says the old lady.) And now, hoping the Giver of all +good will continue to favor you with His blessing, and preserve you in +that strength of intellect with which you have so often assisted us in +beating down Satan, and hoping either to have the pleasure of seeing +you, or hearing from you soon, I will say adieu! subscribing myself a +servant in the cause of the heathen, and your sincere Sister,</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 25em;">"<span class="smcap">Mrs. Abijah Slocum</span>.</p> + +<p>"P.S.—Remember, dear Sister, that the amount of money expended in +idol-worship—in erecting monster temples and keeping them in repair, +would provide comfortable homes and missions for hundreds of our very +excellent young men and women, who are now ready to buckle on the armor +and enter the fight against Satan.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 25em;"> +"A.S."<br /> +</p> + +<p>"Dear-a-me," she sighs, laying the letter upon the table, kicking the +cat as she resumes her rocking, and with her right hand restoring her +Milton to its accustomed place on the table. "Rebecca," she says, "will +get a pillow and place it nicely at my back." Rebecca, the old slave, +brings the pillow. "There, there! now, not too high, nor too low, +Rebecca!" her thin, sharp voice echoes, as she works her shoulders, and +permits her long fingers to wander over her cap-border. "When 'um got +just so missus like, say—da he is!" mumbles the old negress in reply. +"Well, well—a little that side, now—" The negress moves the pillow a +little to the left. "That's too much, Rebecca—a slight touch the other +way. You are so stupid, I will have to sell you, and get Jewel to take +care of me. I would have done it before but for the noise of her +crutch—I would, Rebecca! You never think of me—you only think of how +much hominy you can eat." The old negress makes a motion to move the +pillow a little to the right, when Mrs. Swiggs settles her head and +shoulders into it, saying, "there!"</p> + +<p>"Glad'um suit—fo'h true!" retorts the negress, her heavy lips and +sullen face giving out the very incarnation of hatred.</p> + +<p>"Now don't make a noise when you go out." Rebecca in reply says she is +"gwine down to da kitchen to see Isaac," and toddles out of the room, +gently closing the door after her.</p> + +<p>Resignedly Mrs. Swiggs closes her eyes, moderates her rocking, and +commences evolving and revolving the subject over in her mind. "I +haven't much of this world's goods—no, I haven't; but I'm of a good +family, and its name for hospitality must be kept up. Don't see that I +can keep it up better than by helping Sister Slocum and the <i>Tract +Society</i> out," she muses. But the exact way to effect this has not yet +come clear to her mind. Times are rather hard, and, as we have said +before, she is in straightened circumstances, having, for something more +than ten years, had nothing but the earnings of eleven old negroes, five +of whom are cripples, to keep up the dignity of the house of the Swiggs. +"There's old Zeff," she says, "has took to drinking, and Flame, his +wife, ain't a bit better; and neither one of them have been worth +anything since I sold their two children—which I had to do, or let the +dignity of the family suffer. I don't like to do it, but I must. I must +send Zeff to the workhouse—have him nicely whipped, I only charge him +eighteen dollars a month for himself, and yet he will drink, and won't +pay over his wages. Yes!—he shall have it. The extent of the law, well +laid on, will learn him a lesson. There's old Cato pays me twenty +dollars a month, and Cato's seventy-four—four years older than Zeff. In +truth, my negro property is all getting careless about paying wages. Old +Trot runs away whenever he can get a chance; Brutus has forever got +something the matter with him; and Cicero has come to be a real skulk. +He don't care for the cowhide; the more I get him flogged the worse he +gets. Curious creature! And his old woman, since she broke her leg, and +goes with a crutch, thinks she can do just as she pleases. There is +plenty of work in her—plenty; she has no disposition to let it come +out, though! And she has kept up a grumbling ever since I sold her +girls. Well, I didn't want to keep them all the time at the +whipping-post; so I sold them to save their characters." Thus Mrs. +Swiggs muses until she drops into a profound sleep, in which she +remains, dreaming that she has sold old Mumma Molly, Cicero's wife, and +with the proceeds finds herself in New York, hob-nobbing it with Sister +Slocum, and making one extensive donation to the Tract Society, and +another to the fund for getting Brother Singleton Spyke off to Antioch. +Her arrival in Gotham, she dreams, is a great event. The Tract Society +(she is its guest) is smothering her with its attentions. Indeed, a +whole column and a half of the very conservative and highly respectable +old <i>Observer</i> is taken up with an elaborate and well-written history of +her many virtues.</p> + +<p>The venerable old lady dreams herself into dusky evening, and wakes to +find old Rebecca summoning her to tea. She is exceedingly sorry the old +slave disturbed her. However, having great faith in dreams, and the one +she has just enjoyed bringing the way to aid Sister Slocum in carrying +out her projects of love so clear to her mind, she is resolved to lose +no time in carrying out its principles. Selling old Molly won't be much; +old Molly is not worth much to her; and the price of old Molly (she'll +bring something!) will do so much to enlighten the heathen, and aid the +Tract Society in giving out its excellent works. "And I have for years +longed to see Sister Slocum, face to face, before I die," she says. And +with an affixed determination to carry out this pious resolve, Mrs. +Swiggs sips her tea, and retires to her dingy little chamber for the +night.</p> + +<p>A bright and cheerful sun ushers in the following morning. The soft rays +steal in at the snuffy door, at the dilapidated windows, through the +faded curtains, and into the "best parlor," where, at an early hour, +sits the antique old lady, rummaging over some musty old papers piled on +the centre-table. The pale light plays over and gives to her features a +spectre-like hue; while the grotesque pieces of furniture by which she +is surrounded lend their aid in making complete the picture of a +wizard's abode. The paper she wants is nowhere to be found. "I must +exercise a little judgment in this affair," she mutters, folding a bit +of paper, and seizing her pen. Having written—</p> + +<p> +"<span class="smcap">To the Master of the Work-house</span>:<br /> +</p> + +<p>"I am sorry I have to trouble you so often with old Cicero. He will not +pay wages all I can do. Give him at least thirty—well laid on. I go to +New York in a few days, and what is due you from me for punishments will +be paid any time you send your bill.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 15em;"> +"<span class="smcap">Sarah Pringle Hughes Swiggs</span>." +</p> + +<p>"Well! he deserves what he gets," she shakes her head and ejaculates. +Having summoned Rebecca, Master Cicero, a hard-featured old negro, is +ordered up, and comes tottering into the room, half-bent with age, his +hair silvered, and his face covered with a mossy-white beard—the +picture of a patriarch carved in ebony. "Good mornin', Missus," he +speaks in a feeble and husky voice, standing hesitatingly before his +august owner. "You are—well, I might as well say it—you're a +miserable old wretch!" Cicero makes a nervous motion with his left hand, +as the fingers of his right wander over the bald crown of his head, and +his eyes give out a forlorn look. She has no pity for the poor old +man—none. "You are, Cicero—you needn't pretend you ain't," she +pursues; and springing to her feet with an incredible nimbleness, she +advances to the window, tucks up the old curtain, and says, "There; let +the light reflect on your face. Badness looks out of it, Cicero! you +never was a good nigger—"</p> + +<p>"Per'aps not, Missus; but den I'se old."</p> + +<p>"Old! you ain't so old but you can pay wages," the testy old woman +interrupts, tossing her head. "You're a capital hand at cunning excuses. +This will get you done for, at the workhouse." She hands him a +delicately enveloped and carefully superscribed <i>billet</i>, and commands +him to proceed forthwith to the workhouse. A tear courses slowly down +his time-wrinkled face, he hesitates, would speak one word in his own +defence. But the word of his owner is absolute, and in obedience to the +wave of her hand he totters to the door, and disappears. His tears are +only those of a slave. How useless fall the tears of him who has no +voice, no power to assert his manhood! And yet, in that shrunken +bosom—in that figure, bent and shattered of age, there burns a passion +for liberty and hatred of the oppressor more terrible than the hand that +has made him the wretch he is. That tear! how forcibly it tells the tale +of his sorrowing soul; how eloquently it foretells the downfall of that +injustice holding him in its fierce chains!</p> + +<p>Cicero has been nicely got out of the way. Molly, his wife, is summoned +into the presence of her mistress, to receive her awful doom. "To be +frank with you, Molly, and I am always outspoken, you know, I am going +to sell you. We have been long enough together, and necessity at this +moment forces me to this conclusion," says our venerable lady, +addressing herself to the old slave, who stands before her, leaning on +her crutch, for she is one of the cripples. "You will get a pious owner, +I trust; and God will be merciful to you."</p> + +<p>The old slave of seventy years replies only with an expression of hate +in her countenance, and a drooping of her heavy lip. "Now," Mrs. Swiggs +pursues, "take this letter, go straight to Mr. Forcheu with it, and he +will sell you. He is very kind in selling old people—very!" Molly +inquires if Cicero may go. Mrs. Swiggs replies that nobody will buy two +old people together.</p> + +<p>The slave of seventy years, knowing her entreaties will be in vain, +approaches her mistress with the fervency of a child, and grasping +warmly her hand, stammers out: "Da—da—dah Lord bless um, Missus. Tan't +many days fo'h we meet in t'oder world—good-bye."</p> + +<p>"God bless you—good-bye, Molly. Remember what I have told you so many +times—long suffering and forbearance make the true Christian. Be a +Christian—seek to serve your Master faithfully; such the Scripture +teacheth. Now tie your handkerchief nicely on your head, and get your +clean apron on, and mind to look good-natured when Mr. Forcheu sells +you." This admonition, methodically addressed to the old slave, and Mrs. +Swiggs waves her hand, resumes her Milton, and settles herself back into +her chair. Reader! if you have a heart in the right place it will be +needless for us to dwell upon the feelings of that old slave, as she +drags her infirm body to the shambles of the extremely kind vender of +people.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h3>CHAPTER XIV.</h3> + +<p class='center' style='font-size:smaller'>MR. McARTHUR MAKES A DISCOVERY.</p> + + +<p>On his return from the theatre, Mr. McArthur finds his daughter, Maria, +waiting him in great anxiety. "Father, father!" she says, as he enters +his little back parlor, "this is what that poor woman, Mag Munday, used +to take on so about; here it is." She advances, her countenance wearing +an air of great solicitude, holds the old dress in her left hand, and a +stained letter in her right. "It fell from a pocket in the bosom," she +pursues. The old man, with an expression of surprise, takes the letter +and prepares to read it. He pauses. "Did it come from the dress I +discovered in the old chest?" he inquires, adjusting his spectacles. +Maria says it did. She has no doubt it might have relieved her +suffering, if it had been found before she died. "But, father, was there +not to you something strange, something mysterious about the manner she +pursued her search for this old dress? You remember how she used to +insist that it contained something that might be a fortune to her in her +distress, and how there was a history connected with it that would not +reflect much credit on a lady in high life!"</p> + +<p>The old man interrupts by saying he well remembers it; remembers how he +thought she was a maniac to set so much value on the old dress, and make +so many sighs when it could not be found. "It always occurred to me +there was something more than the dress that made her take on so," the +old man concludes, returning the letter to Maria, with a request that +she will read it. Maria resumes her seat, the old man draws a chair to +the table, and with his face supported in his left hand listens +attentively as she reads:</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 25em;"> +<span class="smcap">"Washington Square, New York</span>,</p> +<p style="margin-left: 29em;">May 14, 18— +</p> + +<p>"I am glad to hear from Mr. Sildon that the child does well. Poor little +thing, it gives me so many unhappy thoughts when I think of it; but I +know you are a good woman, Mrs. Munday, and will watch her with the care +of a mother. She was left at our door one night, and as people are +always too ready to give currency to scandal, my brother and I thought +that it would not be prudent to adopt it at once, more especially as I +have been ill for the last few months, and have any quantity of enemies. +I am going to close my house, now that my deceased husband's estate is +settled, and spend a few years in Europe. Mr. Thomas Sildon is well +provided with funds for the care of the child during my absence, and +will pay you a hundred dollars every quarter. Let no one see this +letter, not even your husband. And when I return I will give you an +extra remuneration, and adopt the child as my own. Mr. Sildon will tell +you where to find me when I return."</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 20em;"> +Your friend,</p> +<p style="margin-left: 25em;">"C.A.M." +</p> + +<p>"There, father," says Maria, "there is something more than we know +about, connected with this letter. One thing always discovers +another—don't you think it may have something to do with that lady who +has two or three times come in here, and always appeared so nervous +when she inquired about Mag Munday? and you recollect how she would not +be content until we had told her a thousand different things concerning +her. She wanted, she said, a clue to her; but she never could get a clue +to her. There is something more than we know of connected with this +letter," and she lays the old damp stained and crumpled letter on the +table, as the old servant enters bearing on a small tray their humble +supper.</p> + +<p>"Now, sit up, my daughter," says the old man, helping her to a sandwich +while she pours out his dish of tea, "our enjoyment need be none the +less because our fare is humble. As for satisfying this lady about Mag +Munday, why, I have given that up. I told her all I knew, and that is, +that when she first came to Charleston—one never knows what these New +Yorkers are—she was a dashing sort of woman, had no end of admirers, +and lived in fine style. Then it got out that she wasn't the wife of the +man who came with her, but that she was the wife of a poor man of the +name of Munday, and had quit her husband; as wives will when they take a +notion in their heads. And as is always the way with these sort of +people, she kept gradually getting down in the world, and as she kept +getting more and more down so she took more and more to drink, and drink +brought on grief, and grief soon wasted her into the grave. I took pity +on her, for she seemed not a bad woman at heart, and always said she was +forced by necessity into the house of Madame Flamingo—a house that +hurries many a poor creature to her ruin. And she seemed possessed of a +sense of honor not common to these people; and when Madame Flamingo +turned her into the street,—as she does every one she has succeeded in +making a wretch of,—and she could find no one to take her in, and had +nowhere to lay her poor head, as she used to say, I used to lend her +little amounts, which she always managed somehow to repay. As to there +being anything valuable in the dress, I never gave it a thought; and +when she would say if she could have restored to her the dress, and +manage to get money enough to get to New York, I thought it was only the +result of her sadness."</p> + +<p>"You may remember, father," interrupts Maria, "she twice spoke of a +child left in her charge; and that the child was got away from her. If +she could only trace that poor child, she would say, or find out what +had become of it, she could forget her own sufferings and die easy. But +the thought of what had become of that child forever haunted her; she +knew that unless she atoned in some way the devil would surely get her." +The old man says, setting down his cup, it all comes fresh to his mind. +Mr. Soloman (he has not a doubt) could let some light upon the subject; +and, as he seems acquainted with the lady that takes so much interest in +what became of the woman Munday, he may relieve her search. "I am sure +she is dead, nevertheless; I say this, knowing that having no home she +got upon the Neck, and then associated with the negroes; and the last I +heard of her was that the fever carried her off. This must have been +true, or else she had been back here pleading for the bundles we could +not find." Thus saying, Mr. McArthur finishes his humble supper, kisses +and fondles his daughter, whom he dotingly loves, and retires for the +night.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h3>CHAPTER XV.</h3> + +<p class='center' style='font-size:smaller'>WHAT MADAME FLAMINGO WANTS TO BE.</p> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Tom Swiggs</span> has enjoyed, to the evident satisfaction of his +mother, a seven months' residence in the old prison. The very first +families continue to pay their respects to the good old lady, and she in +return daily honors them with mementoes of her remembrance. These little +civilities, exchanging between the stately old lady and our first +families, indicate the approach of the fashionable season. Indeed, we +may as well tell you the fashionable season is commencing in right good +earnest. Our elite are at home, speculations are rife as to what the +"Jockey Club" will do, we are recounting our adventures at northern +watering-places, chuckling over our heroism in putting down those who +were unwise enough to speak disrespectful of our cherished institutions, +and making very light of what we would do to the whole north. You may +know, too, that our fashionable season is commenced by what is taking +place at the house of Madame Flamingo on the one side, and the St. +Cecilia on the other. We recognize these establishments as institutions. +That they form the great fortifications of fashionable society, flanking +it at either extreme, no one here doubts.</p> + +<p>We are extremely sensitive of two things—fashion, and our right to sell +negroes. Without the former we should be at sea; without the latter, our +existence would indeed be humble. The St. Cecilia Society inaugurates +the fashionable season, the erudite Editor of the Courier will tell +you, with an entertainment given to the elite of its members and a few +very distinguished foreigners. Madame Flamingo opens her forts, at the +same time, with a grand supper, which she styles a very select +entertainment, and to which she invites none but "those of the highest +standing in society." If you would like to see what sort of a supper she +sets to inaugurate the fashionable season, take our arm for a few +minutes.</p> + +<p>Having just arrived from New York, where she has been luxuriating and +selecting her wares for the coming season, (New York is the fountain +ejecting its vice over this Union,) Madame looks hale, hearty, and +exceedingly cheerful. Nor has she spared any expense to make herself up +with becoming youthfulness—as the common people have it. She has got +her a lace cap of the latest fashion, with great broad striped blue and +red strings; and her dress is of orange-colored brocade, trimmed with +tulle, and looped with white blossoms. Down the stomacher it is set with +jewels. Her figure seems more embonpoint than when we last saw her; and +as she leans on the arm of old Judge Sleepyhorn, forms a striking +contrast to the slender figure of that singular specimen of judicial +infirmity. Two great doors are opened, and Madame leads the way into +what she calls her upper and private parlor, a hall of some fifty feet +by thirty, in the centre of which a sumptuously decorated table is set +out. Indeed there is a chasteness and richness about the furniture and +works of art that decorate this apartment, singularly at variance with +the bright-colored furniture of the room we have described in a former +chapter. "Ladies and gentlemen!" ejaculates the old hostess, "imagine +this a palace, in which you are all welcome. As the legal gentry say +(she casts a glance at the old Judge), when you have satisfactorily +imagined that, imagine me a princess, and address me—"</p> + +<p>"High ho!" interrupts Mr. Soloman.</p> + +<p>"I confess," continues the old woman, her little, light-brown curls +dangling across her brow, and her face crimsoning, "I would like to be a +princess."</p> + +<p>"You can," rejoins the former speaker, his fingers wandering to his +chin.</p> + +<p>"Well! I have my beadle—beadles, I take, are inseparable from royal +blood—and my servants in liveries. After all (she tosses her head) what +can there be in beadles and liveries? Why! the commonest and vulgarest +people of New York have taken to liveries. If you chance to take an +elegant drive up the 'Fifth Avenue,' and meet a dashing equipage—say +with horses terribly caparisoned, a purloined crest on the +carriage-door, a sallow-faced footman covered up in a green coat, all +over big brass buttons, stuck up behind, and a whiskey-faced coachman +half-asleep in a great hammercloth, be sure it belongs to some snob who +has not a sentence of good English in his head. Yes! perhaps a +soap-chandler, an oil-dealer, or a candy-maker. Brainless people always +creep into plush—always! People of taste and learning, like me, only +are entitled to liveries and crests." This Madame says, inviting her +guests to take seats at her banquet-table, at the head of which she +stands, the Judge on her right, Mr. Soloman on her left. Her china is of +the most elaborate description, embossed and gilt; her plate is of pure +silver, and massive; she has vases and candelabras of the same metal; +and her cutlery is of the most costly description. No house in the +country can boast a more exact taste in their selection. At each plate +a silver holder stands, bearing a bouquet of delicately-arranged +flowers. A trellise of choice flowers, interspersed here and there with +gorgeous bouquets in porcelain vases, range along the centre of the +table; which presents the appearance of a bed of fresh flowers +variegated with delicious fruits. Her guests are to her choicer than her +fruits; her fruits are choicer than her female wares. No entertainment +of this kind would be complete without Judge Sleepyhorn and Mr. Soloman. +They countenance vice in its most insidious form—they foster crime; +without crime their trade would be damaged. The one cultivates, that the +other may reap the harvest and maintain his office.</p> + +<p>"I see," says Mr. Soloman, in reply to the old hostess, "not the +slightest objection to your being a princess—not the slightest! And, to +be frank about the matter, I know of no one who would better ornament +the position."</p> + +<p>"Your compliments are too liberally bestowed, Mr. Soloman."</p> + +<p>"Not at all! 'Pon my honor, now, there is a chance for you to bring that +thing about in a very short time. There is Grouski, the Polish exile, a +prince of pure blood. Grouski is poor, wants to get back to Europe. He +wants a wife, too. Grouski is a high old fellow—a most celebrated man, +fought like a hero for the freedom of his country; and though an exile +here, would be received with all the honors due to a prince in either +Italy, France or England.</p> + +<p>"A very respectable gentleman, no doubt; but a prince of pure blood, Mr. +Soloman, is rather a scarce article these days."</p> + +<p>"Not a bit of it—why there is lots of exiled Princes all over this +country. They are modest men, you know, like me; and having got it into +their heads that we don't like royal blood, rather keep the fact of +their birth to themselves. As for Grouski! why his history is as +familiar to every American who takes any interest in these things, as is +the history of poor Kossuth. I only say this, Madame Flamingo, to prove +to you that Grouski is none of your mock articles. And what is more, I +have several times heard him speak most enthusiastically of you."</p> + +<p>"Of me!" interrupts the old hostess, blushing. "I respect Grouski, and +the more so for his being a poor prince in exile." Madame orders her +servants, who are screwed into bright liveries, to bring on some +sparkling Moselle. This done, and the glasses filled with the sparkling +beverage, Mr. Soloman rises to propose a toast; although, as he says, it +is somewhat out of place, two rounds having only succeeded the soup: "I +propose the health of our generous host, to whom we owe so much for the +superb manner in which she has catered for our amusement. Here's that we +may speedily have the pleasure of paying our respects to her as the +Princess Grouski." Madame Flamingo bows, the toast is drunk with cheers, +and she begins to think there is something in it after all.</p> + +<p>"Make as light of it as you please, ladies and gentlemen—many stranger +things have come to pass. As for the exile, Grouski, I always esteemed +him a very excellent gentleman."</p> + +<p>"Exactly!" interposes the Judge, tipping his glass, and preparing his +appetite for the course of game—broiled partridges, rice-birds, and +grouse—which is being served by the waiters. "No one more worthy," he +pursues, wiping his sleepy face with his napkin, "of being a princess. +Education, wealth, and taste, you have; and with Grouski, there is +nothing to prevent the happy consummation—nothing! I beg to assure +you," Madame Flamingo makes a most courteous bow, and with an air of +great dignity condescends to say she hopes gentlemen of the highest +standing in Charleston have for ten years or more had the strongest +proofs of her ability to administer the offices of a lady of station. +"But you know," she pursues, hoping ladies and gentlemen will be kind +enough to keep their glasses full, "people are become so pious +now-a-days that they are foolish enough to attach a stigma to our +business."</p> + +<p>"Pooh, pooh!" interrupts the accommodation man, having raised his glass +in compliment to a painted harlot. "Once in Europe, and under the shadow +of the wife of Prince Grouski, the past would be wiped out; your money +would win admirers, while your being a princess would make fashionable +society your tool. The very atmosphere of princesses is full of taint; +but it is sunk in the rank, and rather increases courtiers. In France +your untainted princess would prognosticate the second coming of—, +well, I will not profane."</p> + +<p>"Do not, I beg of you," says Madame, blushing. "I am scrupulously +opposed to profanity." And then there breaks upon the ear music that +seems floating from an enchanted chamber, so soft and dulcet does it +mingle with the coarse laughing and coarser wit of the banqueters. At +this feast of flowers may be seen the man high in office, the grave +merchant, the man entrusted with the most important affairs of the +commonwealth—the sage and the charlatan. Sallow-faced and painted +women, more undressed than dressed, sit beside them, hale companions. +Respectable society regards the Judge a fine old gentleman; respectable +society embraces Mr. Soloman, notwithstanding he carries on a business, +as we shall show, that brings misery upon hundreds. Twice has he +received a large vote as candidate for the General Assembly.</p> + +<p>A little removed from the old Judge (excellent man) sits Anna Bonard, +like a jewel among stones less brilliant, George Mullholland on her +left. Her countenance wears an expression of gentleness, sweet and +touching. Her silky black hair rolls in wavy folds down her voluptuous +shoulders, a fresh carnatic flush suffuses her cheeks, her great black +eyes, so beautifully arched with heavy lashes, flash incessantly, and to +her bewitching charms is added a pensive smile that now lights up her +features, then subsides into melancholy.</p> + +<p>"What think you of my statuary?" inquired the old hostess, "and my +antiques? Have I not taste enough for a princess?" How soft the carpet, +how rich its colors! Those marble mantel-pieces, sculptured in female +figures, how massive! How elegantly they set off each end of the hall, +as we shall call this room; and how sturdily they bear up statuettes, +delicately executed in alabaster and Parian, of Byron, Goethe, Napoleon, +and Charlemagne—two on each. And there, standing between two Gothic +windows on the front of the hall, is an antique side-table, of curious +design. The windows are draped with curtains of rich purple satin, with +embroidered cornice skirts and heavy tassels. On this antique table, and +between the undulating curtains, is a marble statue of a female in a +reclining posture, her right hand supporting her head, her dishevelled +hair flowing down her shoulder. The features are soft, calm, and almost +grand. It is simplicity sleeping, Madame Flamingo says. On the opposite +side of the hall are pedestals of black walnut, with mouldings in gilt, +on which stand busts of Washington and Lafayette, as if they were +unwilling spectators of the revelry. A venerable recline, that may have +had a place in the propylæa, or served to decorate the halls of +Versailles in the days of Napoleon, has here a place beneath the +portrait of Jefferson. This humble tribute the old hostess says she pays +to democracy. And at each end of the hall are double alcoves, over the +arches of which are great spread eagles, holding in their beaks the +points of massive maroon-colored drapery that falls over the sides, +forming brilliant depressions. In these alcoves are groups of figures +and statuettes, and parts of statuettes, legless and armless, and all +presenting a rude and mutilated condition. What some of them represented +it would have puzzled the ancient Greeks to decypher. Madame, +nevertheless, assures her guests she got them from among the relics of +Italian and Grecian antiquity. You may do justice to her taste on living +statuary; but her rude and decrepit wares, like those owned and so much +valued by our New York patrons of the arts, you may set down as +belonging to a less antique age of art. And there are chairs inlaid with +mosaic and pearl, and upholstered with the richest and brightest satin +damask,—revealing, however, that uncouthness of taste so characteristic +of your Fifth Avenue aristocrat.</p> + +<p>Now cast your eye upward to the ceiling. It is frescoed with themes of a +barbaric age. The finely-outlined figure of a female adorns the centre. +Her loins are enveloped in what seems a mist; and in her right hand, +looking as if it were raised from the groundwork, she holds gracefully +the bulb of a massive chandelier, from the jets of which a refulgent +light is reflected upon the flowery banquet table. Madame smilingly says +it is the Goddess of Love, an exact copy of the one in the temple of +Jupiter Olympus. Another just opposite, less voluptuous in its outlines, +she adds, is intended for a copy of the fabled goddess, supposed by the +ancients to have thrown off her wings to illustrate the uncertainty of +fortune.</p> + +<p>Course follows course, of viands the most delicious, and sumptuously +served. The wine cup now flows freely, the walls reëcho the coarse jokes +and coarser laughs of the banqueters, and leaden eyelids, languid faces, +and reeling brains, mark the closing scene. Such is the gorgeous vice we +worship, such the revelries we sanction, such the insidious debaucheries +we shield with the mantle of our laws—laws made for the accommodation +of the rich, for the punishment only of the poor. And a thousand poor in +our midst suffer for bread while justice sleeps.</p> + +<p>Midnight is upon the banqueters, the music strikes up a last march, the +staggering company retire to the stifled air of resplendent chambers. +The old hostess contemplates herself as a princess, and seriously +believes an alliance with Grouski would not be the strangest thing in +the world. There is, however, one among the banqueters who seems to have +something deeper at heart than the transitory offerings on the +table—one whose countenance at times assumes a thoughtfulness +singularly at variance with those around her. It is Anna Bonard.</p> + +<p>Only to-day did George Mullholland reveal to her the almost hopeless +condition of poor Tom Swiggs, still confined in the prison, with +criminals for associates, and starving. She had met Tom when fortune was +less ruthless; he had twice befriended her while in New York. Moved by +that sympathy for the suffering which is ever the purest offspring of +woman's heart, no matter how low her condition, she resolved not to rest +until she had devised the means of his release. Her influence over the +subtle-minded old Judge she well knew, nor was she ignorant of the +relations existing between him and the accommodation man.</p> + +<p>On the conclusion of the feast she invites them to her chamber. They are +not slow to accept the invitation. "Be seated, gentlemen, be seated," +she says, preserving a calmness of manner not congenial to the feelings +of either of her guests. She places chairs for them at the round table, +upon the marble top of which an inlaid portfolio lies open.</p> + +<p>"Rather conventional," stammers Mr. Snivel, touching the Judge +significantly on the arm, as they take seats. Mr. Snivel is fond of good +wine, and good wine has so mellowed his constitution that he is obliged +to seek support for his head in his hands.</p> + +<p>"I'd like a little light on this 'ere plot. Peers thar's somethin' a +foot," responds the Judge.</p> + +<p>Anna interposes by saying they shall know quick enough. Placing a pen +and inkstand on the table, she takes her seat opposite them, and +commences watching their declining consciousness. "Thar," ejaculates the +old Judge, his moody face becoming dark and sullen, "let us have the +wish."</p> + +<p>"You owe me an atonement, and you can discharge it by gratifying my +desire."</p> + +<p>"Women," interposes the old Judge, dreamily, "always have wishes to +gratify. W-o-l, if its teu sign a warrant, hang a nigger, tar and +feather an abolitionist, ride the British Consul out a town, or send a +dozen vagrants to the whipping-post—I'm thar. Anything my hand's in +at!" incoherently mumbles this judicial dignitary.</p> + +<p>Mr. Snivel having reminded the Judge that ten o'clock to-morrow morning +is the time appointed for meeting Splitwood, the "nigger broker," who +furnishes capital with which they start a new paper for the new party, +drops away into a refreshing sleep, his head on the marble.</p> + +<p>"Grant me, as a favor, an order for the release of poor Tom Swiggs. You +cannot deny me this, Judge," says Anna, with an arch smile, and pausing +for a reply.</p> + +<p>"Wol, as to that," responds this high functionary, "if I'd power, +'twouldn't be long afore I'd dew it, though his mother'd turn the town +upside down; but I hain't no power in the premises. I make it a rule, on +and off the bench, never to refuse the request of a pretty woman. +Chivalry, you know."</p> + +<p>"For your compliment, Judge, I thank you. The granting my request, +however, would be more grateful to my feelings."</p> + +<p>"It speaks well of your heart, my dear girl; but, you see, I'm only a +Judge. Mr. Snivel, here, probably committed him ('Snivel! here, wake +up!' he says, shaking him violently), he commits everybody. Being a +Justice of the Peace, you see, and justices of the peace being +everything here, I may prevail on him to grant your request!" pursues +the Judge, brightening up at the earnest manner in which Anna makes her +appeal. "Snivel! Snivel!—Justice Snivel, come, wake up. Thar is a call +for your sarvices." The Judge continues to shake the higher functionary +violently. Mr. Snivel with a modest snore rouses from his nap, says he +is always ready to do a bit of a good turn. "If you are, then," +interposes the fair girl, "let it be made known now. Grant me an order +of release for Tom Swiggs. Remember what will be the consequence of a +refusal!"</p> + +<p>"Tom Swiggs! Tom Swiggs!—why I've made a deal of fees of that fellow. +But, viewing it in either a judicial or philosophical light, he's quite +as well where he is. They don't give them much to eat in jail I admit, +but it is a great place for straightening the morals of a rum-head like +Tom. And he has got down so low that all the justices in the city +couldn't make him fit for respectable society." Mr. Snivel yawns and +stretches his arms athwart.</p> + +<p>"But you can grant me the order independent of what respectable society +will do."</p> + +<p>Mr. Snivel replies, bowing, a pretty woman is more than a match for the +whole judiciary. He will make a good amount of fees out of Tom yet; and +what his testy old mother declines to pay, he will charge to the State, +as the law gives him a right to do.</p> + +<p>"Then I am to understand!" quickly retorts Anna, rising from her chair, +with an expression of contempt on her countenance, and a satirical curl +on her lip, "you have no true regard for me then; your friendship is +that of the knave, who has nothing to give after his ends are served. I +will leave you!" The Judge takes her gently by the arm; indignantly she +pushes him from her, as her great black eyes flash with passion, and she +seeks for the door. Mr. Snivel has placed himself against it, begs she +will be calm. "Why," he says, "get into a passion at that which was but +a joke." The Judge touches him on the arm significantly, and whispers +in his ear, "grant her the order—grant it, for peace sake, Justice +Snivel."</p> + +<p>"Now, if you will tell me why you take so deep an interest in getting +them fellows out of prison, I will grant the order of release," Mr. +Snivel says, and with an air of great gallantry leads her back to her +chair.</p> + +<p>"None but friendship for one who served me when he had it in his power."</p> + +<p>"I see! I see!" interrupts our gallant justice; "the renewal of an old +acquaintance; you are to play the part of Don Quixote,—he, the +mistress. It's well enough there should be a change in the knights, and +that the stripling who goes about in the garb of the clergy, and has +been puzzling his wits how to get Tom out of prison for the last six +months—"</p> + +<p>"Your trades never agree;" parenthesises Anna.</p> + +<p>"Should yield the lance to you."</p> + +<p>"Who better able to wield it in this chivalrous atmosphere? It only +pains my own feelings to confess myself an abandoned woman; but I have a +consolation in knowing how powerful an abandoned woman may be in +Charleston."</p> + +<p>An admonition from the old Judge, and Mr. Snivel draws his chair to the +table, upon which he places his left elbow, rests his head on his hand. +"This fellow will get out; his mother—I have pledged my honor to keep +him fast locked up—will find it out, and there'll be a fuss among our +first families," he whispers. Anna pledges him her honor, a thing she +never betrays, that the secret of Tom's release shall be a matter of +strict confidence. And having shook hands over it, Mr. Snivel seizes the +pen and writes an order of release, commanding the jailer to set at +liberty one Tom Swiggs, committed as a vagrant upon a justice's warrant, +&c., &c., &c. "There," says Justice Snivel, "the thing is done—now for +a kiss;" and the fair girl permits him to kiss her brow. "Me too; the +bench and the bar!" rejoins the Judge, following the example of his +junior. And with an air of triumph the victorious girl bears away what +at this moment she values a prize.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h3>CHAPTER XVI.</h3> + +<p class='center' style='font-size:smaller'>IN WHICH TOM SWIGGS GAINS HIS LIBERTY, AND WHAT BEFALLS HIM.</p> + + +<p>Anna gives George Mullholland the letter of release, and on the +succeeding morning he is seen entering at the iron gate of the wall that +encloses the old prison. "Bread! give me bread," greets his ear as soon +as he enters the sombre old pile. He walks through the debtors' floor, +startles as he hears the stifled cry for bread, and contemplates with +pained feelings the wasting forms and sickly faces that everywhere meet +his eye. The same piercing cry grates upon his senses as he sallies +along the damp, narrow aisle of the second floor, lined on both sides +with small, filthy cells, in which are incarcerated men whose crime is +that of having committed "assault and battery," and British seamen +innocent of all crime except that of having a colored skin. If anything +less than a gentleman commit assault and battery, we punish him with +imprisonment; we have no law to punish gentlemen who commit such +offences.</p> + +<p>Along the felon's aisle—in the malarious cells where "poor" murderers +and burglars are chained to die of the poisonous atmosphere, the same +cry tells its mournful tale. Look into the dark vista of this little +passage, and you will see the gleaming of flabby arms and shrunken +hands. Glance into the apertures out of which they protrude so +appealingly, you will hear the dull clank of chains, see the glare of +vacant eyes, and shudder at the pale, cadaverous faces of beings +tortured with starvation. A low, hoarse whisper, asks you for bread; a +listless countenance quickens at your footfall. Oh! could you but feel +the emotion that has touched that shrunken form which so despondingly +waits the coming of a messenger of mercy. That system of cruelty to +prisoners which so disgraced England during the last century, and which +for her name she would were erased from her history, we preserve here in +all its hideousness. The Governor knows nothing, and cares nothing about +the prison; the Attorney-General never darkens its doors; the public +scarce give a thought for those within its walls—and to one man, Mr. +Hardscrabble, is the fate of these wretched beings entrusted. And so +prone has become the appetite of man to speculate on the misfortunes of +his fellow-man, that this good man, as we shall call him, tortures thus +the miserable beings entrusted to his keeping, and makes it a means of +getting rich. Pardon, reader, this digression.</p> + +<p>George, elated with the idea of setting Tom at liberty, found the young +theologian at the prison, and revealed to him the fact that he had got +the much-desired order. To the latter this seemed strange—not that such +a person as George could have succeeded in what he had tried in vain to +effect, but that there was a mystery about it. It is but justice to say +that the young theologian had for six months used every exertion in his +power, without avail, to procure an order of release. He had appealed to +the Attorney-General, who declared himself powerless, but referred him +to the Governor. The Governor could take no action in the premises, and +referred him to the Judge of the Sessions. The Judge of the Sessions +doubted his capacity to interfere, and advised a petition to the Clerk +of the Court. The Clerk of the Court, who invariably took it upon +himself to correct the judge's dictum, decided that the judge could not +interfere, the case being a committal by a Justice of the Peace, and not +having been before the sessions. And against these high +functionaries—the Governor, Attorney-General, Judge of the Sessions, +and Clerk of the Court, was Mr. Soloman and Mrs. Swiggs all-powerful. +There was, however, another power superior to all, and that we have +described in the previous chapter.</p> + +<p>Accompanied by the brusque old jailer, George and the young theologian +make their way to the cell in which Tom is confined.</p> + +<p>"Hallo! Tom," exclaims George, as he enters the cell, "boarding at the +expense of the State yet, eh?" Tom lay stretched on a blanket in one +corner of the cell, his faithful old friend, the sailor, watching over +him with the solicitude of a brother. "I don't know how he'd got on if +it hadn't bin for the old sailor, yonder," says the jailer, pointing to +Spunyarn, who is crouched down at the great black fireplace, blowing the +coals under a small pan. "He took to Tom when he first came in, and +hasn't left him for a day. He'll steal to supply Tom's hunger, and fight +if a prisoner attempts to impose upon his charge. He has rigged him out, +you see, with his pea-coat and overalls," continues the man, folding his +arms.</p> + +<p>"I am sorry, Tom—"</p> + +<p>"Yes," says Tom, interrupting the young theologian, "I know you are. You +don't find me to have kept my word; and because I haven't you don't find +me improved much. I can't get out; and if I can't get out, what's the +use of my trying to improve? I don't say this because I don't want to +improve. I have no one living who ought to care for me, but my mother. +And she has shown what she cares for me."</p> + +<p>"Everything is well. (The young theologian takes Tom by the hand.) We +have got your release. You are a free man, now."</p> + +<p>"My release!" exclaims the poor outcast, starting to his feet, "my +release?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," kindly interposes the jailer, "you may go, Tom. Stone walls, +bolts and chains have no further use for you." The announcement brings +tears to his eyes; he cannot find words to give utterance to his +emotions. He drops the young theologian's hand, grasps warmly that of +George Mullholland, and says, the tears falling fast down his cheeks, +"now I will be a new man."</p> + +<p>"God bless Tom," rejoins the old sailor, who has left the fireplace and +joined in the excitement of the moment. "I alwas sed there war better +weather ahead, Tom." He pats him encouragingly on the shoulder, and +turns to the bystanders, continuing with a childlike frankness: "he's +alwas complained with himself about breaking his word and honor with +you, sir—"</p> + +<p>The young theologian says the temptation was more than he could +withstand.</p> + +<p>"Yes sir!—that was it. He, poor fellow, wasn't to blame. One brought +him in a drop, and challenged him; then another brought him in a drop, +and challenged him; and the vote-cribber would get generous now and +then, and bring him a drop, saying how he would like to crib him if he +was only out, on the general election coming on, and make him take a +drop of what he called election whiskey. And you know, sir, it's hard +for a body to stand up against all these things, specially when a body's +bin disappointed in love. It's bin a hard up and down with him. To-day +he would make a bit of good weather, and to-morrow he'd be all up in a +hurricane." And the old sailor takes a fresh quid of tobacco, wipes +Tom's face, gets the brush and fusses over him, and tells him to cheer +up, now that he has got his clearance.</p> + +<p>"Tom would know if his mother ordered it."</p> + +<p>"No! she must not know that you are at large," rejoins George.</p> + +<p>"Not that I am at large?"</p> + +<p>"I have," interposes the young theologian, "provided a place for you. We +have a home for you, a snug little place at the house of old McArthur—"</p> + +<p>"Old McArthur," interpolates Tom, smiling, "I'm not a curiosity."</p> + +<p>George Mullholland says he may make love to Maria, that she will once +more be a sister. Touched by the kindly act on his behalf, Tom replies +saying she was always kind to him, watched over him when no one else +would, and sought with tender counsels to effect his reform, to make him +forget his troubles.</p> + +<p>"Thank you!—my heart thanks you more forcibly than my tongue can. I +feel a man. I won't touch drink again: no I won't. You won't find me +breaking my honor this time. A sick at heart man, like me, has no power +to buffet disappointment. I was a wretch, and like a wretch without a +mother's sympathy, found relief only in drinks—"</p> + +<p>"And such drinks!" interposes the old sailor, shrugging his shoulders. +"Good weather, and a cheer up, now and then, from a friend, would have +saved him."</p> + +<p>Now there appears in the doorway, the stalworth figure of the +vote-cribber, who, with sullen face, advances mechanically toward Tom, +pauses and regards him with an air of suspicion. "You are not what you +ought to be, Tom," he says, doggedly, and turns to the young Missionary. +"Parson," he continues, "this 'ere pupil of yourn's a hard un. He isn't +fit for respectable society. Like a sponge, he soaks up all the whiskey +in jail." The young man turns upon him a look more of pity than scorn, +while the jailer shakes his head admonishingly. The vote-cribber +continues insensible to the admonition. He, be it known, is a character +of no small importance in the political world. Having a sort of sympathy +for the old jail he views his transient residences therein rather +necessary than otherwise. As a leading character is necessary to every +grade of society, so also does he plume himself the aristocrat of the +prison. Persons committed for any other than offences against the +election laws, he holds in utter contempt. Indeed, he says with a good +deal of truth, that as fighting is become the all necessary +qualification of our Senators and Representatives to Congress, he thinks +of offering himself for the next vacancy. The only rival he fears is +"handsome Charley."<a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> The accommodations are not what they might be, +but, being exempt from rent and other items necessary to a prominent +politician, he accepts them as a matter of economy.</p> + +<p>The vote-cribber is sure of being set free on the approach of an +election. We may as well confess it before the world—he is an +indispensable adjunct to the creating, of Legislators, Mayors, +Congressmen, and Governors. Whiskey is not more necessary to the +reputation of our mob-politicians than are the physical powers of Milman +Mingle to the success of the party he honors with his services. Nor do +his friends scruple at consulting him on matters of great importance to +the State while in his prison sanctuary.</p> + +<p>"I'm out to-morrow, parson," he resumes; the massive fingers of his +right hand wandering into his crispy, red beard, and again over his +scarred face. "Mayor's election comes off two weeks from +Friday—couldn't do without me—can knock down any quantity of men—you +throw a plumper, I take it?" The young Missionary answers in the +negative by shaking his head, while the kind old sailor continues to +fuss over and prepare Tom for his departure. "Tom is about to leave us," +says the old sailor, by way of diverting the vote-cribber's attention. +That dignitary, so much esteemed by our fine old statesmen, turns to +Tom, and inquires if he has a vote.</p> + +<p>Tom has a vote, but declares he will not give it to the vote-cribber's +party. The politician says "p'raps," and draws from his bosom a small +flask. "Whiskey, Tom," he says,—"no use offering it to parsons, eh? (he +casts an insinuating look at the parson.) First-chop election whiskey—a +sup and we're friends until I get you safe under the lock of my crib. +Our Senators to Congress patronize this largely." The forlorn freeman, +with a look of contempt for the man who thus upbraids him, dashes the +drug upon the floor, to the evident chagrin of the politician, who, to +conceal his feelings, turns to George Mulholland, and mechanically +inquires if <i>he</i> has a vote. Being answered in the negative, he picks up +his flask and walks away, saying: "what rubbish!"</p> + +<p>Accompanied by his friends and the old sailor, Tom sallies forth into +the atmosphere of sweet freedom. As the old jailer swings back the outer +gate, Spunyarn grasps his friend and companion in sorrow warmly by the +hand, his bronzed face brightens with an air of satisfaction, and like +pure water gushing from the rude rock his eyes fill with tears. How +honest, how touching, how pure the friendly lisp—good bye! "Keep up a +strong heart, Tom,—never mind me. I don't know by what right I'm kept +here, and starved; but I expect to get out one of these days; and when I +do you may reckon on me as your friend. Keep the craft in good trim till +then; don't let the devil get master. Come and see us now and then, and +above all, never give up the ship during a storm." Tom's emotions are +too deeply touched. He has no reply to make, but presses in silence the +hand of the old sailor, takes his departure, and turns to wave him an +adieu.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h3>CHAPTER XVII.</h3> + +<p class='center' style='font-size:smaller'>IN WHICH THERE IS AN INTERESTING MEETING.</p> + + +<p>Our very chivalric dealers in human merchandise, like philosophers and +philanthropists, are composed merely of flesh and blood, while their +theories are alike influenced by circumstances. Those of the first, we +(the South) are, at times, too apt to regard as sublimated and refined, +while we hold the practices of the latter such as divest human nature of +everything congenial. Nevertheless we can assure our readers that there +does not exist a class of men who so much pride themselves on their +chivalry as some of our opulent slave-dealers. Did we want proof to +sustain what we have said we could not do better than refer to Mr. +Forsheu, that very excellent gentleman. Mrs. Swiggs held him in high +esteem, and so far regarded his character for piety and chivalry +unblemished, that she consigned to him her old slave of seventy +years—old Molly. Molly must be sold, the New York Tract Society must +have a mite, and Sister Abijah Slocum's very laudable enterprise of +getting Brother Singleton Spyke off to Antioch must be encouraged. And +Mr. Forsheu is very kind to the old people he sells. It would, indeed, +be difficult for the distant reader to conceive a more striking instance +of a man, grown rich in a commerce that blunts all the finer qualities +of our nature, preserving a gentleness, excelled only by his real +goodness of heart.</p> + +<p>When the old slave, leaning on her crutch, stood before Mr. Forsheu, her +face the very picture of age and starvation, his heart recoiled at the +thought of selling her in her present condition. He read the letter she +bore, contemplated her with an air of pity, and turning to Mr. Benbow, +his methodical book-keeper of twenty years, who had added and subtracted +through a wilderness of bodies and souls, ordered him to send the +shrunken old woman into the pen, on feed. Mr. Forsheu prided himself on +the quality of people sold at his shambles, and would not for the world +hazard his reputation on old Molly, till she was got in better +condition. Molly rather liked this, inasmuch as she had been fed on corn +and prayers exclusively, and more prayers than corn, which is become the +fashion with our much-reduced first families. For nearly four months she +enjoyed, much to the discomfiture of her august owner, the comforts of +Mr. Forsheu's pen. Daily did the anxious old lady study her Milton, and +dispatch a slave to inquire if her piece of aged property had found a +purchaser. The polite vender preserved, with uncommon philosophy, his +temper. He enjoined patience. The condition and age of the property +were, he said, much in the way of sale. Then Mrs. Swiggs began +questioning his ability as a merchant. Aspersions of this kind, the +polite vender of people could not bear with. He was a man of enormous +wealth, the result of his skill in the sale of people. He was the +president of an insurance company, a bank director, a commissioner of +the orphan asylum, and a steward of the jockey club. To his great +relief, for he began to have serious misgivings about his outlay on old +Molly, there came along one day an excellent customer. This was no less +a person than Madame Flamingo. What was singular of this very +distinguished lady was, that she always had a use for old slaves no one +else ever thought of. Her yard was full of aged and tottering humanity. +One cleaned knives, another fetched ice from the ice-house, a third +blacked boots, a fourth split wood, a fifth carried groceries, and a +sixth did the marketing. She had a decayed negro for the smallest +service; and, to her credit be it said, they were as contented and well +fed a body of tottering age as could be found in old Carolina.</p> + +<p>Her knife-cleaning machine having taken it into his head to die one day, +she would purchase another. Mr Forsheu, with that urbanity we so well +understand how to appreciate, informed the distinguished lady that he +had an article exactly suited to her wants. Forthwith, Molly was +summoned into her presence. Madame Flamingo, moved almost to tears at +the old slave's appearance, purchased her out of pure sympathy, as we +call it, and to the great relief of Mr. Forsheu, lost no time in paying +one hundred and forty dollars down in gold for her. In deference to Mr. +Hadger, the House of The Foreign Missions, and the very excellent Tract +Society, of New York, we will not here extend on how the money was got. +The transaction was purely commercial: why should humanity interpose? We +hold it strictly legal that institutions created for the purpose of +enlightening the heathen have no right to ask by what means the money +constituting their donations is got.</p> + +<p>The comforts of Mr. Forsheu's pen,—the hominy, grits, and rest, made +the old slave quite as reluctant about leaving him as she had before +been in parting with Lady Swiggs. Albeit, she shook his hand with equal +earnestness, and lisped "God bless Massa," with a tenderness and +simplicity so touching, that had not Madame Flamingo been an excellent +diplomat, reconciling the matter by assuring her that she would get +enough to eat, and clothes to wear, no few tears would have been shed. +Madame, in addition to this incentive, intimated that she might attend a +prayer meeting now and then—perhaps see Cicero. However, Molly could +easily have forgotten Cicero, inasmuch as she had enjoyed the rare +felicity of thirteen husbands, all of whom Lady Swiggs had sold when it +suited her own convenience.</p> + +<p>Having made her purchase, Madame very elegantly bid the gallant merchant +good morning, hoping he would not forget her address, and call round +when it suited his convenience. Mr. Forsheu, his hat doffed, escorted +her to her carriage, into the amber-colored lining of which she +gracefully settled her majestic self, as a slightly-browned gentleman in +livery closed the bright door, took her order with servile bows, and +having motioned to the coachman, the carriage rolled away, and was soon +out of sight. Monsieur Gronski, it may be well to add here, was +discovered curled up in one corner; he smiled, and extended his hand +very graciously to Madame as she entered the carriage.</p> + +<p>Like a pilgrim in search of some promised land, Molly adjusted her +crutch, and over the sandy road trudged, with truculent face, to her new +home, humming to herself "dah-is-a-time-a-comin, den da Lor' he be +good!!"</p> + +<p>On the following morning, Lady Swiggs received her account current, Mr. +Forsheu being exceedingly prompt in business. There was one hundred and +twenty-nine days' feed, commissions, advertising, and sundry smaller +charges, which reduced the net balance to one hundred and three dollars. +Mrs. Swiggs, with an infatuation kindred to that which finds the State +blind to its own poverty, stubbornly refused to believe her slaves had +declined in value. Hence she received the vender's account with surprise +and dissatisfaction. However, the sale being binding, she gradually +accommodated her mind to the result, and began evolving the question of +how to make the amount meet the emergency. She must visit the great city +of New York; she must see Sister Slocum face to face; Brother Spyke's +mission must have fifty dollars; how much could she give the Tract +Society? Here was a dilemma—one which might have excited the sympathy +of the House of the "Foreign Missions." The dignity of the family, too, +was at stake. Many sleepless nights did this difficult matter cause the +august old lady. She thought of selling another cripple! Oh! that would +not do. Mr. Keepum had a lien on them; Mr. Keepum was a man of +iron-heart. Suddenly it flashed upon her mind that she had already been +guilty of a legal wrong in selling old Molly. Mr. Soloman had doubtless +described her with legal minuteness in the bond of security for the two +hundred dollars. Her decrepit form; her corrugated face; her heavy lip; +her crutch, and her piety—everything, in a word, but her starvation, +had been set down. Well! Mr. Soloman might, she thought, overlook in the +multiplicity of business so small a discrepancy. She, too, had a large +circle of distinguished friends. If the worst came to the worst she +would appeal to them. There, too, was Sir Sunderland Swiggs' portrait, +very valuable for its age; she might sell the family arms, such things +being in great demand with the chivalry; her antique furniture, too, +was highly prized by our first families. Thus Lady Swiggs contemplated +these mighty relics of past greatness. Our celtic Butlers and Brookses +never recurred to the blood of their querulous ancestors with more awe +than did this memorable lady to her decayed relics. Mr. Israel Moses, +she cherished a hope, would give a large sum for the portrait; the +family arms he would value at a high figure; the old furniture he would +esteem a prize. But to Mr. Moses and common sense, neither the blood of +the Butlers, nor Lady Swiggs' rubbish, were safe to loan money upon. The +Hebrew gentleman was not so easily beguiled.</p> + +<p>The time came when it was necessary to appeal to Mr. Hadger. That +gentleman held the dignity of the Swiggs family in high esteem, but +shook his head when he found the respectability of the house the only +security offered in exchange for a loan. Ah! a thought flashed to her +relief, the family watch and chain would beguile the Hebrew gentleman. +With these cherished mementoes of the high old family, (she would under +no other circumstance have parted with for uncounted gold,) she in time +seduced Mr. Israel Moses to make a small advance. Duty, stern and +demanding, called her to New York. Forced to reduce her generosity, she, +not without a sigh, made up her mind to give only thirty dollars to each +of the institutions she had made so many sacrifices to serve. And thus, +with a reduced platform, as our politicians have it, she set about +preparing for the grand journey. Regards the most distinguished were +sent to all the first families; the St. Cecilia had notice of her +intended absence; no end of tea parties were given in honor of the +event. Apparently happy with herself, with every one but poor Tom, our +august lady left in the Steamer one day. With a little of that vanity +the State deals so largely in, Mrs. Swiggs thought every passenger on +board wondering and staring at her.</p> + +<p>While then she voyages and dreams of the grand reception waiting her in +New York,—of Sister Slocum's smiles, of the good of the heathen world, +and of those nice evening gatherings she will enjoy with the pious, let +us, gentle reader, look in at the house of Absalom McArthur.</p> + +<p>To-day Tom Swiggs feels himself free, and it is high noon. Downcast of +countenance he wends his way along the fashionable side of King-street. +The young theologian is at his side. George Mullholland has gone to the +house of Madame Flamingo. He will announce the glad news to Anna. The +old antiquarian dusts his little counter with a stubby broom, places +various curiosities in the windows, and about the doors, stands +contemplating them with an air of satisfaction, then proceeds to drive a +swarm of flies that hover upon the ceiling, into a curiously-arranged +trap that he has set.</p> + +<p>"What!—my young friend, Tom Swiggs!" exclaims the old man, toddling +toward Tom, and grasping firmly his hand, as he enters the door. "You +are welcome to my little place, which shall be a home." Tom hangs down +his head, receives the old man's greeting with shyness. "Your poor +father and me, Tom, used to sit here many a time. (The old man points to +an old sofa.) We were friends. He thought much of me, and I had a high +opinion of him; and so we used to sit for hours, and talk over the deeds +of the old continentals. Your mother and him didn't get along over-well +together; she had more dignity than he could well digest: but that is +neither here nor there."</p> + +<p>"I hope, in time," interrupts Tom, "to repay your kindness. I am willing +to ply myself to work, though it degrades one in the eyes of our +society."</p> + +<p>"As to that," returns the old man, "why, don't mention it. Maria, you +know, will be a friend to you. Come away now and see her." And taking +Tom by the hand, (the theologian has withdrawn,) he becomes +enthusiastic, leads him through the dark, narrow passage into the back +parlor, where he is met by Maria, and cordially welcomed. "Why, Tom, +what a change has come over you," she ejaculates, holding his hand, and +viewing him with the solicitude of a sister, who hastens to embrace a +brother returned after a long absence. Letting fall his begrimed hand, +she draws up the old-fashioned rocking chair, and bids him be seated. He +shakes his head moodily, says he is not so bad as he seems, and hopes +yet to make himself worthy of her kindness. He has been the associate of +criminals; he has suffered punishment; he feels himself loathed by +society; he cannot divest himself of the odium clinging to his garments. +Fain would he go to some distant clime, and there seek a refuge from the +odium of felons.</p> + +<p>"Let no such thoughts enter your mind, Tom," says the affectionate girl; +"divest yourself at once of feelings that can only do you injury. You +have engaged my thoughts during your troubles. Twice I begged your +mother to honor me with an interview. We were humble people; she +condescended at last. But she turned a deaf ear to me when I appealed to +her for your release, merely inquiring if—like that other jade—I had +become enamored of—" Maria pauses, blushing.</p> + +<p>"I would like to see my mother," interposes Tom.</p> + +<p>"Had I belonged to our grand society, the case had been different," +resumes Maria.</p> + +<p>"Truly, Maria," stammers Tom, "had I supposed there was one in the world +who cared for me, I had been a better man."</p> + +<p>"As to that, why we were brought up together, Tom. We knew each other as +children, and what else but respect could I have for you? One never +knows how much others think of them, for the—" Maria blushes, checks +herself, and watches the changes playing over Tom's countenance. She was +about to say the tongue of love was too often silent.</p> + +<p>It must be acknowledged that Maria had, for years, cherished a passion +for Tom. He, however, like many others of his class, was too stupid to +discover it. The girl, too, had been overawed by the dignity of his +mother. Thus, with feelings of pain did she watch the downward course of +one in whose welfare she took a deep interest.</p> + +<p>"Very often those for whom we cherish the fondest affections, are +coldest in their demeanor towards us," pursues Maria.</p> + +<p>"Can she have thought of me so much as to love me?" Tom questions within +himself; and Maria put an end to the conversation by ringing the bell, +commanding the old servant to hasten dinner. A plate must be placed at +the table for Tom.</p> + +<p>The antiquarian, having, as he says, left the young people to +themselves, stands at his counter furbishing up sundry old engravings, +horse-pistols, pieces of coat-of-mail, and two large scimitars, all of +which he has piled together in a heap, and beside which lay several +chapeaus said to have belonged to distinguished Britishers. Mr. Soloman +suddenly makes his appearance in the little shop, much to Mr. McArthur's +surprise. "Say—old man! centurion!" he exclaims, in a maudlin laugh, +"Keepum's in the straps—is, I do declare; Gadsden and he bought a lot +of niggers—a monster drove of 'em, on shares. He wants that trifle of +borrowed money—must have it. Can have it back in a few days."</p> + +<p>"Bless me," interrupts the old man, confusedly, "but off my little +things it will be hard to raise it. Times is hard, our people go, like +geese, to the North. They get rid of all their money there, and their +fancy—you know that, Mr. Snivel—is abroad, while they have, for home, +only a love to keep up slavery."</p> + +<p>"I thought it would come to that," says Mr. Snivel, facetiously. The +antiquarian seems bewildered, commences offering excuses that rather +involve himself deeper, and finally concludes by pleading for a delay. +Scarce any one would have thought a person of Mr. McArthur's position, +indebted to Mr. Keepum; but so it was. It is very difficult to tell +whose negroes are not mortgaged to Mr. Keepum, how many mortgages of +plantation he has foreclosed, how many high old families he has reduced +to abject poverty, or how many poor but respectable families he has +disgraced. He has a reputation for loaning money to parents, that he may +rob their daughters of that jewel the world refuses to give them back. +And yet our best society honor him, fawn over him, and bow to him. We so +worship the god of slavery, that our minds are become debased, and yet +we seem unconscious of it. Mr. Keepum did not lend money to the old +antiquarian without a purpose. That purpose, that justice which +accommodates itself to the popular voice, will aid him in gaining.</p> + +<p>Mr. Snivel affects a tone of moderation, whispers in the old man's ear, +and says: "Mind you tell the fortune of this girl, Bonard, as I have +directed. Study what I have told you. If she be not the child of Madame +Montford, then no faith can be put in likenesses. I have got in my +possession what goes far to strengthen the suspicions now rife +concerning the fashionable New Yorker."</p> + +<p>"There surely is a mystery about this woman, Mr. Snivel, as you say. She +has so many times looked in here to inquire about Mag Munday, a woman in +a curious line of life who came here, got down in the world, as they all +do, and used now and then to get the loan of a trifle from me to keep +her from starvation." (Mr. Snivel says, in parentheses, he knows all +about her.)</p> + +<p>"Ha! ha! my old boy," says Mr. Snivel, frisking his fingers through his +light Saxon beard, "I have had this case in hand for some time. It is +strictly a private matter, nevertheless. They are a bad lot—them New +Yorkers, who come here to avoid their little delicate affairs. I may yet +make a good thing out of this, though. As for that fellow, Mullholland, +I intend getting him the whipping post. He is come to be the associate +of gentlemen; men high in office shower upon him their favors. It is all +to propitiate the friendship of Bonard—I know it." Mr. Snivel concludes +hurriedly, and departs into the street, as our scene changes.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h3>CHAPTER XVIII.</h3> + +<p class='center' style='font-size:smaller'>ANNA BONARD SEEKS AN INTERVIEW WITH THE ANTIQUARY.</p> + + +<p>It is night. King street seems in a melancholy mood, the blue arch of +heaven is bespangled with twinkling stars, the moon has mounted her high +throne, and her beams, like messengers of love, dance joyously over the +calm waters of the bay, so serenely skirted with dark woodland. The dull +tramp of the guardman's horse now breaks the stillness; then the +measured tread of the heavily-armed patrol, with which the city swarms +at night, echoes and re-echoes along the narrow streets. A theatre +reeking with the fumes of whiskey and tobacco; a sombre-looking +guard-house, bristling with armed men, who usher forth to guard the +fears of tyranny, or drag in some wretched slave; a dilapidated "Court +House," at the corner, at which lazy-looking men lounge; a castellated +"Work House," so grand without, and so full of bleeding hearts within; a +"Poor House" on crutches, and in which infirm age and poverty die of +treatment that makes the heart sicken—these are all the public +buildings we can boast. Like ominous mounds, they seem sleeping in the +calm and serene night. Ah! we had almost forgotten the sympathetic old +hospital, with its verandas; the crabbed looking "City Hall," with its +port holes; and the "Citadel," in which, when our youths have learned to +fight duels, we learn them how to fight their way out of the Union. +Duelling is our high art; getting out of the Union is our low. And, too, +we have, and make no small boast that we have, two or three buildings +called "Halls." In these our own supper-eating men riot, our soldiers +drill (soldiering is our presiding genius), and our mob-politicians +waste their spleen against the North. Unlike Boston, towering all bright +and vigorous in the atmosphere of freedom, we have no galleries of +statuary; no conservatories of paintings; no massive edifices of marble, +dedicated to art and science; no princely school-houses, radiating their +light of learning over a peace and justice-loving community; no majestic +exchange, of granite and polished marble, so emblematic of a thrifty +commerce;—we have no regal "State House" on the lofty hill, no +glittering colleges everywhere striking the eye. The god of slavery—the +god we worship, has no use for such temples; public libraries are his +prison; his civilization is like a dull dead march; he is the enemy of +his own heart, vitiating and making drear whatever he touches. He wages +war on art, science, civilization! he trembles at the sight of temples +reared for the enlightening of the masses. Tyranny is his law, a +cotton-bag his judgment-seat. But we pride ourselves that we are a +respectable people—what more would you have us?</p> + +<p>The night is chilly without, in the fireplace of the antiquary's back +parlor there burns a scanty wood fire. Tom has eaten his supper and +retired to a little closet-like room overhead, where, in bed, he muses +over what fell from Maria's lips, in their interview. Did she really +cherish a passion for him? had her solicitude in years past something +more than friendship in it? what did she mean? He was not one of those +whose place in a woman's heart could never be supplied. How would an +alliance with Maria affect his mother's dignity? All these things Tom +evolves over and over in his mind. In point of position, a mechanic's +daughter was not far removed from the slave; a mechanic's daughter was +viewed only as a good object of seduction for some nice young gentleman. +Antiquarians might get a few bows of planter's sons, the legal gentry, +and cotton brokers (these make up our aristocracy), but practically no +one would think of admitting them into decent society. They, of right, +belong to that vulgar herd that live by labor at which the slave can be +employed. To be anything in the eyes of good society, you must only live +upon the earnings of slaves.</p> + +<p>"Why," says Tom, "should I consult the dignity of a mother who discards +me? The love of this lone daughter of the antiquary, this girl who +strives to know my wants, and to promote my welfare, rises superior to +all. I will away with such thoughts! I will be a man!" Maria, with eager +eye and thoughtful countenance, sits at the little antique centre-table, +reading Longfellow's Evangeline, by the pale light of a candle. A lurid +glare is shed over the cavern-like place. The reflection plays curiously +upon the corrugated features of the old man, who, his favorite cat at +his side, reclines on a stubby little sofa, drawn well up to the fire. +The poet would not select Maria as his ideal of female loveliness; and +yet there is a touching modesty in her demeanor, a sweet smile ever +playing over her countenance, an artlessness in her conversation that +more than makes up for the want of those charms novel writers are +pleased to call transcendent. "Father!" she says, pausing, "some one +knocks at the outer door." The old man starts and listens, then hastens +to open it. There stands before him the figure of a strange female, +veiled. "I am glad to find you, old man. Be not suspicious of my coming +at this hour, for my mission is a strange one." The old man's crooked +eyes flash, his deep curling lip quivers, his hand vibrates the candle +he holds before him. "If on a mission to do nobody harm," he responds, +"then you are welcome." "You will pardon me; I have seen you before. You +have wished me well," she whispers in a musical voice. Gracefully she +raises her veil over her Spanish hood, and advances cautiously, as the +old man closes the door behind her. Then she uncovers her head, +nervously. The white, jewelled fingers of her right hand, so delicate +and tapering, wander over and smooth her silky black hair, that falls in +waves over her Ion-like brow. How exquisite those features just +revealed; how full of soul those flashing black eyes; her dress, how +chaste! "They call me Anna Bonard," she speaks, timorously, "you may +know me?—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I know you well," interrupts the old man, "your beauty has made you +known. What more would you have?"</p> + +<p>"Something that will make me happy. Old man, I am unhappy. Tell me, if +you have the power, who I am. Am I an orphan, as has been told me; or +have I parents yet living, affluent, and high in society? Do they seek +me and cannot find me? Oh! let the fates speak, old man, for this world +has given me nothing but pain and shame. Am I—" she pauses, her eyes +wander to the floor, her cheeks crimson, she seizes the old man by the +hand, and her bosom heaves as if a fierce passion had just been kindled +within it.</p> + +<p>The old man preserves his equanimity, says he has a fortune to tell her. +Fortunes are best told at midnight. The stars, too, let out their +secrets more willingly when the night-king rules. He bids her follow +him, and totters back to the little parlor. With a wise air, he bids her +be seated on the sofa, saying he never mistakes maidens when they call +at this hour.</p> + +<p>Maria, who rose from the table at the entrance of the stranger, bows, +shuts her book mechanically, and retires. Can there be another face so +lovely? she questions within herself, as she pauses to contemplate the +stranger ere she disappears. The antiquary draws a chair and seats +himself beside Anna. "Thy life and destiny," he says, fretting his bony +fingers over the crown of his wig. "Blessed is the will of providence +that permits us to know the secrets of destiny. Give me your hand, fair +lady." Like a philosopher in deep study, he wipes and adjusts his +spectacles, then takes her right hand and commences reading its lines. +"Your history is an uncommon one—"</p> + +<p>"Yes," interrupts the girl, "mine has been a chequered life."</p> + +<p>"You have seen sorrow enough, but will see more. You come of good +parents; but, ah!—there is a mystery shrouding your birth." ("And that +mystery," interposes the girl, "I want to have explained.") "There will +come a woman to reclaim you—a woman in high life; but she will come too +late—" (The girl pales and trembles.) "Yes," pursues the old man, +looking more studiously at her hand, "she will come too late. You will +have admirers, and even suitors; but they will only betray you, and in +the end you will die of trouble. Ah! there is a line that had escaped +me. You may avert this dark destiny—yes, you may escape the end that +fate has ordained for you. In neglect you came up, the companion of a +man you think true to you. But he is not true to you. Watch him, follow +him—you will yet find him out. Ha! ha! ha! these men are not to be +trusted, my dear. There is but one man who really loves you. He is an +old man, a man of station. He is your only true friend. I here see it +marked." He crosses her hand, and says there can be no mistaking it. +"With that man, fair girl, you may escape the dark destiny. But, above +all things, do not treat him coldly. And here I see by the sign that +Anna Bonard is not your name. The name was given you by a wizard."</p> + +<p>"You are right, old man," speaks Anna, raising thoughtfully her great +black eyes, as the antiquary pauses and watches each change of her +countenance; "that name was given me by Hag Zogbaum, when I was a child +in her den, in New York, and when no one cared for me. What my right +name was has now slipped my memory. I was indeed a wretched child, and +know little of myself."</p> + +<p>"Was it Munday?" inquires the old man. Scarce has he lisped the name +before she catches it up and repeats it, incoherently, "Munday! Munday! +Munday!" her eyes flash with anxiety. "Ah, I remember now. I was called +Anna Munday by Mother Bridges. I lived with her before I got to the den +of Hag Zogbaum. And Mother Bridges sold apples at a stand at the corner +of a street, on West street. It seems like a dream to me now. I do not +want to recall those dark days or my childhood. Have you not some +revelation to make respecting my parents?" The old man says the signs +will not aid him further. "On my arm," she pursues, baring her white, +polished arm, "there is a mark. I know not who imprinted it there. See, +old man." The old man sees high up on her right arm two hearts and a +broken anchor, impressed with India ink blue and red. "Yes," repeats the +antiquary, viewing it studiously, "but it gives out no history. If you +could remember who put it there." Of that she has no recollection. The +old man cannot relieve her anxiety, and arranging her hood she bids him +good night, forces a piece of gold into his hand, and seeks her home, +disappointed.</p> + +<p>The antiquary's predictions were founded on what Mr. Soloman Snivel had +told him, and that gentleman got what he knew of Anna's history from +George Mullholland. To this, however, he added what suggestions his +suspicions gave rise to. The similarity of likeness between Anna and +Madame Montford was striking; Madame Montford's mysterious searches and +inquiries for the woman Munday had something of deep import in them. Mag +Munday's strange disappearance from Charleston, and her previous +importuning for the old dress left in pawn with McArthur, were not to be +overlooked. These things taken together, and Mr. Snivel saw a case there +could be no mistaking. That case became stronger when his fashionable +friend engaged his services to trace out what had become of the woman +Mag Munday, and to further ascertain what the girl Anna Bonard knew of +her own history.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h3>CHAPTER XIX.</h3> + +<p class='center' style='font-size:smaller'>A SECRET INTERVIEW.</p> + + +<p>While the scene we have related in the foregoing chapter was being +enacted, there might be seen pacing the great colonnade of the +Charleston hotel, the tall figure of a man wrapped in a massive talma. +Heedless of the throng of drinkers gathered in the spacious bar-room, +making the very air echo with their revelry, he pauses every few +moments, watches intently up and then down Meeting street, now +apparently contemplating the twinkling stars, then turning as if +disappointed, and resuming his sallies. "He will not come to night," he +mutters, as he pauses at the "Ladies' door," then turns and rings the +bell. The well-dressed and highly-perfumed servant who guards the door, +admits him with a scrutinizing eye. "Beg pardon," he says, with a +mechanical bow. He recognizes the stranger, bows, and motions his hands. +"Twice," continues the servant, "she has sent a messenger to inquire of +your coming." The figure in the talma answers with a bow, slips something +into the hand of the servant, passes softly up the great stairs, and is +soon lost to sight. In another minute he enters, without knocking, a +spacious parlor, decorated and furnished most sumptuously. "How +impatiently I have waited your coming," whispers, cautiously, a +richly-dressed lady, as she rises from a velvet covered lounge, on which +she had reclined, and extends her hand to welcome him.</p> + +<p>"Madame, your most obedient," returns the man, bowing and holding her +delicate hand in his. "You have something of importance,—something to +relieve my mind?" she inquires, watching his lips, trembling, and in +anxiety. "Nothing definite," he replies, touching her gently on the arm, +as she begs him to be seated in the great arm-chair. He lays aside his +talma, places his gloves on the centre-table, which is heaped with an +infinite variety of delicately-enveloped missives and cards, all +indicative of her position in fashionable society. "I may say, Madame, +that I sympathize with you in your anxiety; but as yet I have discovered +nothing to relieve it." Madame sighs, and draws her chair near him, in +silence. "That she is the woman you seek I cannot doubt. While on the +Neck, I penetrated the shanty of one Thompson, a poor mechanic—our +white mechanics, you see, are very poor, and not much thought of—who +had known her, given her a shelter, and several times saved her from +starvation. Then she left the neighborhood and took to living with a +poor wretch of a shoemaker."</p> + +<p>"Poor creature," interrupts Madame Montford, for it is she whom Mr. +Snivel addresses. "If she be dead—oh, dear! That will be the end. I +never shall know what became of that child. And to die ignorant of its +fate will—" Madame pauses, her color changes, she seems seized with +some violent emotion. Mr. Snivel perceives her agitation, and begs she +will remain calm. "If that child had been my own," she resumes, "the +responsibility had not weighed heavier on my conscience. Wealth, +position, the pleasures of society—all sink into insignificance when +compared with my anxiety for the fate of that child. It is like an arrow +piercing my heart, like a phantom haunting me in my dreams, like an +evil spirit waking me at night to tell me I shall die an unhappy woman +for having neglected one I was bound by the commands of God to +protect—to save, perhaps, from a life of shame." She lets fall the +satin folds of her dress, buries her face in her hands, and gives vent +to her tears in loud sobs. Mr. Snivel contemplates her agitation with +unmoved muscle. To him it is a true index to the sequel. "If you will +pardon me, Madame," he continues, "as I was about to say of this +miserable shoemaker, he took to drink, as all our white mechanics do, +and then used to abuse her. We don't think anything of these people, you +see, who after giving themselves up to whiskey, die in the poor house, a +terrible death. This shoemaker, of whom I speak, died, and she was +turned into the streets by her landlord, and that sent her to living +with a 'yellow fellow,' as we call them. Soon after this she died—so +report has it. We never know much, you see, about these common people. +They are a sort of trash we can make nothing of, and they get terribly +low now and then." Madame Montford's swelling breast heaves, her +countenance wears an air of melancholy; again she nervously lays aside +the cloud-like skirts of her brocade dress. "Have you not," she +inquires, fretting her jewelled fingers and displaying the massive gold +bracelets that clasp her wrists, "some stronger evidence of her death?" +Mr. Snivel says he has none but what he gathered from the negroes and +poor mechanics, who live in the by-lanes of the city. There is little +dependence, however, to be placed in such reports. Madame, with an air +of composure, rises from her chair, and paces twice or thrice across the +room, seemingly in deep study. "Something," she speaks, stopping +suddenly in one of her sallies—"something (I do not know what it is) +tells me she yet lives: that this is the child we see, living an +abandoned life."</p> + +<p>"As I was going on to say, Madame," pursues Mr. Snivel, with great +blandness of manner, "when our white trash get to living with our +negroes they are as well as dead. One never knows what comes of them +after that. Being always ready to do a bit of a good turn, as you know, +I looked in at Sam Wiley's cabin. Sam Wiley is a negro of some +respectability, and generally has an eye to what becomes of these white +wretches. I don't—I assure you I don't, Madame—look into these places +except on professional business. Sam, after making inquiry among his +neighbors—our colored population view these people with no very good +opinion, when they get down in the world—said he thought she had found +her way through the gates of the poor man's graveyard."</p> + +<p>"Poor man's graveyard!" repeats Madame Montford, again resuming her +chair.</p> + +<p>"Exactly! We have to distinguish between people of position and those +white mechanics who come here from the North, get down in the world, and +then die. We can't sell this sort of people, you see. No keeping their +morals straight without you can. However, this is not to the point. (Mr. +Solomon Snivel keeps his eyes intently fixed upon the lady.)</p> + +<p>"I sought out the old Sexton, a stupid old cove enough. He had neither +names on his record nor graves that answered the purpose. In a legal +sense, Madame, this would not be valid testimony, for this old cove +being only too glad to get rid of our poor, and the fees into his +pocket, is not very particular about names. If it were one of our +'first families,' the old fellow would be so obsequious about having the +name down square—"</p> + +<p>Mr. Snivel frets his fingers through his beard, and bows with an easy +grace.</p> + +<p>"Our first families!" repeats Madame Montford.</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed! He is extremely correct over their funerals. They are of a +fashionable sort, you see. Well, while I was musing over the decaying +dead, and the distinction between poor dead and rich dead, there came +along one Graves, a sort of wayward, half simpleton, who goes about +among churchyards, makes graves a study, knows where every one who has +died for the last century is tucked away, and is worth six sextons at +pointing out graves. He never knows anything about the living, for the +living, he says, won't let him live; and that being the case, he only +wants to keep up his acquaintance with the dead. He never has a hat to +his head, nor a shoe to his foot; and where, and how he lives, no one +can tell. He has been at the whipping-post a dozen times or more, but +I'm not so sure that the poor wretch ever did anything to merit such +punishment. Just as the crabbed old sexton was going to drive him out of +the gate with a big stick, I says, more in the way of a joke than +anything else: 'Graves, come here!—I want a word or two with you.' He +came up, looking shy and suspicious, and saying he wasn't going to harm +anybody, but there was some fresh graves he was thinking over."</p> + +<p>"Some fresh graves!" repeats Madame Montford, nervously.</p> + +<p>"Bless you!—a very common thing," rejoins Mr. Snivel, with a bow. +"Well, this lean simpleton said they (the graves) were made while he was +sick. That being the case, he was deprived—and he lamented it +bitterly—of being present at the funerals, and getting the names of the +deceased. He is a great favorite with the grave-digger, lends him a +willing hand on all occasions, and is extremely useful when the yellow +fever rages. But to the sexton he is a perfect pest, for if a grave be +made during his absence he will importune until he get the name of the +departed. 'Graves,' says I, 'where do they bury these unfortunate women +who die off so, here in Charleston?' 'Bless you, my friend,' says +Graves, accompanying his words with an idiotic laugh, 'why, there's +three stacks of them, yonder. They ship them from New York in lots, poor +things; they dies here in droves, poor things; and we buries them yonder +in piles, poor things. They go—yes, sir, I have thought a deal of this +thing—fast through life; but they dies, and nobody cares for them—you +see how they are buried.' I inquired if he knew all their names. He said +of course he did. If he didn't, nobody else would. In order to try him, +I desired he would show me the grave of Mag Munday. He shook his head +smiled, muttered the name incoherently, and said he thought it sounded +like a dead name. 'I'll get my thinking right,' he pursued, and +brightening up all at once, his vacant eyes flashed, then he touched me +cunningly on the arm, and with a wink and nod of the head there was no +mistaking, led the way to a great mound located in an obscure part of +the graveyard—"</p> + +<p>"A great mound! I thought it would come to that," sighs Madame Montford, +impatiently.</p> + +<p>"We bury these wretched creatures in an obscure place. Indeed, Madame, I +hold it unnecessary to have anything to distinguish them when once they +are dead. Well, this poor forlorn simpleton then sat down on a grave, +and bid me sit beside him. I did as he bid me, and soon he went into a +deep study, muttering the name of Mag Munday the while, until I thought +he never would stop. So wild and wandering did the poor fellow seem, +that I began to think it a pity we had not a place, an insane hospital, +or some sort of benevolent institution, where such poor creatures could +be placed and cared for. It would be much better than sending them to +the whipping-post—"</p> + +<p>"I am indeed of your opinion—of your way of thinking most certainly," +interpolates Madame Montford, a shadow of melancholy darkening her +countenance.</p> + +<p>"At length, he went at it, and repeated over an infinite quantity of +names. It was wonderful to see how he could keep them all in his head. +'Well, now,' says he, turning to me with an inoffensive laugh, 'she +ben't dead. You may bet on that. There now!' he spoke, as if suddenly +becoming conscious of a recently-made discovery. 'Why, she runned wild +about here, as I does, for a time; was abused and knocked about by +everybody. Oh, she had a hard time enough, God knows that.' 'But that is +not disclosing to me what became of her,' says I; 'come, be serious, +Graves.' (We call him this, you see, Madame, for the reason that he is +always among graveyards.) Then he went into a singing mood, sang two +plaintive songs, and had sung a third and fourth, if I had not stopped +him. 'Well,' he says, 'that woman ain't dead, for I've called up in my +mind the whole graveyard of names, and her's is not among them. Why not, +good gentleman, (he seized me by the arm as he said this,) inquire of +Milman Mingle, the vote-cribber? He is a great politician, never thinks +of poor Graves, and wouldn't look into a graveyard for the world. The +vote-cribber used to live with her, and several times he threatened to +hang her, and would a hanged her—yes, he would, sir—if it hadn't a +been for the neighbors. I don't take much interest in the living, you +know. But I pitied her, poor thing, for she was to be pitied, and there +was nobody but me to do it. Just inquire of the vote-cribber.' I knew +the simpleton never told an untruth, being in no way connected with our +political parties."</p> + +<p>"Never told an untruth, being in no way connected with our political +parties!" repeats Madame Montford, who has become more calm.</p> + +<p>"I gave him a few shillings, he followed me to the gate, and left me +muttering, 'Go, inquire of the vote-cribber.'"</p> + +<p>"And have you found this man?" inquires the anxious lady.</p> + +<p>"I forthwith set about it," replies Mr. Snivel, "but as yet, am +unsuccessful. Nine months during the year his residence is the jail—"</p> + +<p>"The jail!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Madame, the jail. His profession, although essential to the +elevation of our politicians and statesmen, is nevertheless unlawful. +And he being obliged to practice it in opposition to the law, quietly +submits to the penalty, which is a residence in the old prison for a +short time. It's a nominal thing, you see, and he has become so +habituated to it that I am inclined to the belief that he prefers it. I +proceeded to the prison and found he had been released. One of our +elections comes off in a few days. The approach of such an event is sure +to find him at large. I sought him in all the drinking saloons, in the +gambling dens, in the haunts of prostitution—in all the low places +where our great politicians most do assemble and debauch themselves. He +was not to be found. Being of the opposite party, I despatched a spy to +the haunt of the committee of the party to which he belongs, and for +which he cribs. I have paced the colonnade for more than an hour, +waiting the coming of this spy. He did not return, and knowing your +anxiety in the matter I returned to you. To-morrow I will seek him out; +to-morrow I will get from him what he knows of this woman you seek.</p> + +<p>"And now, Madame, here is something I would have you examine." (Mr. +Snivel methodically says he got it of McArthur, the antiquary.) "She +made a great ado about a dress that contained this letter. I have no +doubt it will tell a tale." Mr. Snivel draws from his breast-pocket the +letter found concealed in the old dress, and passes it to Madame +Montford, who receives it with a nervous hand. Her eyes become fixed +upon it, she glances over its defaced page with an air of bewilderment, +her face crimsons, then suddenly pales, her lips quiver—her every nerve +seems unbending to the shock. "Heavens! has it come to this?" she +mutters, confusedly. Her strength fails her; the familiar letter falls +from her fingers.—For a few moments she seems struggling to suppress +her emotions, but her reeling brain yields, her features become like +marble, she shrieks and swoons ere Mr. Snivel has time to clasp her in +his arms.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h3>CHAPTER XX.</h3> + +<p class='center' style='font-size:smaller'>LADY SWIGGS ENCOUNTERS DIFFICULTIES ON HER ARRIVAL IN NEW YORK.</p> + + +<p>A pleasant passage of sixty hours, a good shaking up at the hands of +that old tyrant, sea-sickness, and Lady Swiggs finds the steamer on +which she took passage gliding majestically up New York Bay. There she +sits, in all her dignity, an embodiment of our decayed chivalry, a fair +representative of our first families. She has taken up her position on +the upper deck, in front of the wheel house. As one after another the +objects of beauty that make grand the environs of that noble Bay, open +to her astonished eyes, she contrasts them favorably or unfavorably with +some familiar object in Charleston harbor. There is indeed a similarity +in the conformation. And though ours, she says, may not be so extensive, +nor so grand in its outlines, nor so calm and soft in its perspective, +there is a more aristocratic air about it. Smaller bodies are always +more select and respectable. The captain, to whom she has put an hundred +and one questions which he answers in monosyllables, is not, she thinks, +so much of a gentleman as he might have been had he been educated in +Charleston. He makes no distinction in favor of people of rank.</p> + +<p>Lady Swiggs wears that same faded silk dress; her black crape bonnet, +with two saucy red artificial flowers tucked in at the side, sits so +jauntily; that dash of brown hair is smoothed so exactly over her +yellow, shrivelled forehead; her lower jaw oscillates with increased +motion; and her sharp, gray eyes, as before, peer anxiously through her +great-eyed spectacles. And, generous reader, that you may not mistake +her, she has brought her inseparable Milton, which she holds firmly +grasped in her right hand. "You have had a tedious time of it, Madam," +says a corpulent lady, who is extensively dressed and jewelled, and +accosts her with a familiar air. Lady Swiggs says not so tedious as it +might have been, and gives her head two or three very fashionable +twitches.</p> + +<p>"Your name, if you please?"</p> + +<p>"The Princess Grouski. My husband, the Prince Grouski," replies the +corpulent lady, turning and introducing a fair-haired gentleman, tall +and straight of person, somewhat military in his movements, and +extremely fond of fingering his long, Saxon moustache. Lady Swiggs, on +the announcement of a princess, rises suddenly to her feet, and +commences an unlimited number of courtesies. She is, indeed, most happy +to meet, and have the honor of being fellow-voyager with their Royal +Highnesses—will remember it as being one of the happiest events of her +life,—and begs to assure them of her high esteem. The corpulent lady +gives her a delicate card, on which is described the crown of Poland, +and beneath, in exact letters, "The Prince and Princess Grouski." The +Prince affects not to understand English, which Lady Swiggs regrets +exceedingly, inasmuch as it deprives her of an interesting conversation +with a person of royal blood. The card she places carefully between the +leaves of her Milton, having first contemplated it with an air of +exultation. Again begging to thank the Prince and Princess for this +mark of their distinguished consideration, Lady Swiggs inquires if they +ever met or heard of Sir Sunderland Swiggs. The rotund lady, for herself +and the prince, replies in the negative. "He was," she pursues, with a +sigh of disappointment, "he was very distinguished, in his day. Yes, and +I am his lineal descendant. Your highnesses visited Charleston, of +course?"</p> + +<p>"O dear," replies the rotund lady, somewhat laconically, "the happiest +days of my life were spent among the chivalry of South Carolina. Indeed, +Madam, I have received the attention and honors of the very first +families in that State."</p> + +<p>This exclamation sets the venerable lady to thinking how it could be +possible that their highnesses received the attentions of the first +families and she not know it. No great persons ever visited the United +States without honoring Charleston with their presence, it was true; but +how in the world did it happen that she was kept in ignorance of such an +event as that of the Prince and Princess paying it a visit. She began to +doubt the friendship of her distinguished acquaintances, and the St. +Cecilia Society. She hopes that should they condescend to pay the United +States a second visit, they will remember her address. This the rotund +lady, who is no less a person than the distinguished Madame Flamingo, +begs to assure her she will.</p> + +<p>Let not this happy union between Grouski and the old hostess, surprise +you, gentle reader. It was brought about by Mr. Snivel, the +accommodation man, who, as you have before seen, is always ready to do a +bit of a good turn. Being a skilful diplomatist in such matters, he +organized the convention, superintended the wooing, and for a lusty +share of the spoils, secured to him by Grouski, brought matters to an +issue "highly acceptable" to all parties. A sale of her palace of +licentiousness, works of art, costly furniture, and female wares, +together with the good will of all concerned, (her friends of the "bench +and bar" not excepted,) was made for the nice little sum of sixty-seven +thousand dollars, to Madame Grace Ashley, whose inauguration was one of +the most gorgeous <i>fêtes</i> the history of Charleston can boast. The new +occupant was a novice. She had not sufficient funds to pay ready money +for the purchase, hence Mr. Doorwood, a chivalric and very excellent +gentleman, according to report, supplies the necessary, taking a +mortgage on the institution; which proves to be quite as good property +as the Bank, of which he is president. It is not, however, just that +sort of business upon which an already seared conscience can repose in +quiet, hence he applies that antidote too frequently used by knaves—he +never lets a Sunday pass without piously attending church.</p> + +<p>The money thus got, through this long life of iniquity, was by Madame +Flamingo handed over to the Prince, in exchange for his heart and the +title she had been deluded to believe him capable of conferring. Her +reverence for Princes and exiled heroes, (who are generally exiled +humbugs,) was not one jot less than that so pitiably exhibited by our +self-dubbed fashionable society all over this Union. It may be well to +add, that this distinguished couple, all smiling and loving, are on +their way to Europe, where they are sure of receiving the attentions of +any quantity of "crowned heads." Mr. Snivel, in order not to let the +affair lack that <i>eclat</i> which is the crowning point in matters of high +life, got smuggled into the columns of the highly respectable and very +authentic old "Courier," a line or two, in which the fashionable world +was thrown into a flutter by the announcement that Prince Grouski and +his wealthy bride left yesterday, <i>en route</i> for Europe. This bit of +gossip the "New York Herald" caught up and duly itemised, for the +benefit of its upper-ten readers, who, as may be easily imagined, were +all on tip-toe to know the address of visitors so distinguished, and +leave cards.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Swiggs has (we must return to her mission) scarcely set foot on +shore, when, thanks to a little-headed corporation, she is fairly set +upon by a dozen or more villanous hack-drivers, each dangling his whip +in her face, to the no small danger of her bonnet and spectacles. They +jostle her, utter vile imprecations, dispute for the right of carrying +her, each in his turn offering to do it a shilling less. Lady Swiggs is +indeed an important individual in the hands of the hack-drivers, and by +them, in a fair way of being torn to pieces. She wonders they do not +recognize her as a distinguished person, from the chivalric State of +South Carolina. The captain is engaged with his ship, passengers are +hurrying ashore, too anxious to escape the confinement of the cabin; +every one seems in haste to leave her, no one offers to protect her from +the clutches of those who threaten to tear her into precious pieces. She +sighs for Sister Slocum, for Mr. Hadger, for any one kind enough to +raise a friendly voice in her behalf. Now one has got her black box, +another her corpulent carpet-bag—a third exults in a victory over her +band-box. Fain would she give up her mission in disgust, return to the +more aristocratic atmosphere of Charleston, and leave the heathen to his +fate. All this might have been avoided had Sister Slocum sent her +carriage. She will stick by her black-box, nevertheless. So into the +carriage with it she gets, much discomfited. The driver says he would +drive to the Mayor's office "and 'ave them ar two coves what's got the +corpulent carpet-bag and the band-box, seed after, if it wern't that His +Honor never knows anything he ought to know, and is sure to do nothing. +They'll turn up, Mam, I don't doubt," says the man, "but it's next to +los'in' on 'em, to go to the Mayor's office. Our whole corporation, Mam, +don't do nothin' but eats oysters, drinks whiskey, and makes +presidents;—them's what they do, Marm." Lady Swiggs says what a pity so +great a city was not blessed with a bigger-headed corporation.</p> + +<p>"That it is, Marm," returns the methodical hack-driver, "he an't got a +very big head, our corporation." And Lady Swiggs, deprived of her +carpet-bag and band-box, and considerably out of patience, is rolled +away to the mansion of Sister Slocum, on Fourth Avenue. Instead of +falling immediately into the arms and affections of that worthy and very +enterprising lady, the door is opened by a slatternly maid of all +work—her greasy dress, and hard, ruddy face and hands—her short, +flabby figure, and her coarse, uncombed hair, giving out strong evidence +of being overtaxed with labor. "Is it Mrs. Slocum hersel' ye'd be +seein'?" inquires the maid, wiping her soapy hands with her apron, and +looking querulously in the face of the old lady, who, with the air of a +Scotch metaphysician, says she is come to spend a week in friendly +communion with her, to talk over the cause of the poor, benighted +heathen. "Troth an' I'm not as sure ye'll do that same, onyhow; sure +she'd not spend a week at home in the blessed year; and the divil +another help in the house but mysel' and himsel', Mr. Slocum. A decent +man is that same Slocum, too," pursues the maid, with a laconic +indifference to the wants of the guest. A dusty hat-stand ornaments one +side of the hall, a patched and somewhat deformed sofa the other. The +walls wear a dingy air; the fumes of soapsuds and stewed onions offend +the senses. Mrs. Swiggs hesitates in the doorway. Shall I advance, or +retreat to more congenial quarters? she asks herself. The wily +hack-driver (he agreed for four and charged her twelve shillings) leaves +her black box on the step and drives away. She may be thankful he did +not charge her twenty. They make no allowance for distinguished people; +Lady Swiggs learns this fact, to her great annoyance. To the +much-confused maid of all work she commences relating the loss of her +luggage. With one hand swinging the door and the other tucked under her +dowdy apron, she says, "Troth, Mam, and ye ought to be thankful, for the +like of that's done every day."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Swiggs would like a room for the night at least, but is told, in a +somewhat confused style, that not a room in the house is in order. That +a person having the whole heathen world on her shoulders should not have +her house in order somewhat surprises the indomitable lady. In answer to +a question as to what time Mr. Slocum will be home, the maid of all work +says: "Och! God love the poor man, there's no tellin'. Sure there's not +much left of the poor man. An' the divil a one more inoffensive than +poor Slocum. It's himsel' works all day in the Shurance office beyant. +He comes home dragged out, does a dale of writing for Mrs. Slocum +hersel', and goes to bed sayin' nothin' to nobody." Lady Swiggs says: +"God bless me He no doubt labors in a good cause—an excellent +cause—he will have his reward hereafter."</p> + +<p>It must here be confessed that Sister Slocum, having on hand a +newly-married couple, nicely suited to the duties of a mission to some +foreign land, has conceived the very laudable project of sending them to +Aleppo, and is now spending a few weeks among the Dutch of Albany, who +are expected to contribute the necessary funds. A few thousand dollars +expended, a few years' residence in the East, a few reports as to what +might have been done if something had not interposed to prevent it, and +there is not a doubt that this happy couple will return home crowned +with the laurels of having very nearly Christianized one Turk and two +Tartars.</p> + +<p>The maid of all work suddenly remembers that Mrs. Slocum left word that +if a distinguished lady arrived from South Carolina she could be +comfortably accommodated at Sister Scudder's, on Fourth Street. Not a +little disappointed, the venerable old lady calls a passing carriage, +gets herself and black box into it, and orders the driver to forthwith +proceed to the house of Sister Scudder. Here she is—and she sheds tears +that she is—cooped up in a cold, closet-like room, on the third story, +where, with the ends of her red shawl, she may blow and warm her +fingers. Sister Scudder is a crispy little body, in spectacles. Her +features are extremely sharp, and her countenance continually wears a +wise expression. As for her knowledge of scripture, it is truly +wonderful, and a decided improvement when contrasted with the meagre +set-out of her table. Tea time having arrived, Lady Swiggs is invited +down to a cup by a pert Irish servant, who accosts her with an +independence she by no means approves. Entering the room with an air of +stateliness she deems necessary to the position she desires to maintain, +Sister Scudder takes her by the hand and introduces her to a bevy of +nicely-conditioned, and sleek-looking gentlemen, whose exactly-combed +mutton chop whiskers, smoothly-oiled hair, perfectly-tied white cravats, +cloth so modest and fashionable, and mild, studious countenances, +discover their profession. Sister Scudder, motioning Lady Swiggs aside, +whispers in her ear: "They are all very excellent young men. They will +improve on acquaintance. They are come up for the clergy." They, in +turn, receive the distinguished stranger in a manner that is rather +abrupt than cold, and ere she has dispensed her stately courtesy, say; +"how do you do marm," and turn to resume with one another their +conversation on the wicked world. It is somewhat curious to see how much +more interested these gentry become in the wicked world when it is afar +off.</p> + +<p>Tea very weak, butter very strong, toast very thin, and religious +conversation extremely thick, make up the repast. There is no want of +appetite. Indeed one might, under different circumstances, have imagined +Sister Scudder's clerical boarders contesting a race for an extra slice +of her very thin toast. Not the least prominent among Sister Scudder's +boarders is Brother Singleton Spyke, whom Mrs. Swiggs recognizes by the +many compliments he lavishes upon Sister Slocum, whose absence is a +source of great regret with him. She is always elbow deep in some +laudable pursuit. Her presence sheds a radiant light over everything +around; everybody mourns her when absent. Nevertheless, there is some +satisfaction in knowing that her absence is caused by her anxiety to +promote some mission of good: Brother Spyke thus muses. Seeing that +there is come among them a distinguished stranger, he gives out that +to-morrow evening there will be a gathering of the brethren at the +"House of the Foreign Missions," when the very important subject of +funds necessary to his mission to Antioch, will be discussed. Brother +Spyke, having levelled this battery at the susceptibility of Mrs. +Swiggs, is delighted to find some fourteen voices chiming in—all +complimenting his peculiar fitness for, and the worthy object of the +mission. Mrs. Swiggs sets her cup in her saucer, and in a becoming +manner, to the great joy of all present, commences an eulogium on Mr. +Spyke. Sister Slocum, in her letters, held him before her in strong +colors; spoke in such high praise of his talent, and gave so many +guarantees as to what he would do if he only got among the heathen, that +her sympathies were enlisted—she resolved to lose no time in getting to +New York, and, when there, put her shoulder right manfully to the wheel. +This declaration finds her, as if by some mysterious transport, an +object of no end of praise. Sister Scudder adjusts her spectacles, and, +in mildest accents, says, "The Lord will indeed reward such +disinterestedness." Brother Mansfield says motives so pure will ensure a +passport to heaven, he is sure. Brother Sharp, an exceedingly lean and +tall youth, with a narrow head and sharp nose (Mr. Sharp's father +declared he made him a preacher because he could make him nothing else), +pronounces, with great emphasis, that such self-sacrifice should be +written in letters of gold. A unanimous sounding of her praises +convinces Mrs. Swiggs that she is indeed a person of great importance. +There is, however, a certain roughness of manner about her new friends, +which does not harmonize with her notions of aristocracy. She questions +within herself whether they represent the "first families" of New York. +If the "first families" could only get their heads together, the heathen +world would be sure to knock under. No doubt, it can be effected in time +by common people. If Sister Slocum, too, would evangelize the world—if +she would give the light of heaven to the benighted, she must employ +willing hearts and strong hands. Satan, she says, may be chained, +subdued, and made to abjure his wickedness. These cheering +contemplations more than atone for the cold reception she met at the +house of Sister Slocum. Her only regret now is that she did not sell old +Cicero. The money so got would have enabled her to bestow a more +substantial token of her soul's sincerity.</p> + +<p>Tea over, thanks returned, a prayer offered up, and Brother Spyke, +having taken a seat on the sofa beside Mrs. Swiggs, opens his batteries +in a spiritual conversation, which he now and then spices with a few +items of his own history. At the age of fifteen he found himself in love +with a beautiful young lady, who, unfortunately, had made up her mind to +accept only the hand of a clergyman: hence, she rejected his. This so +disturbed his thoughts, that he resolved on studying theology. In this +he was aided by the singular discovery, that he had a talent, and a +"call to preach." He would forget his amour, he thought, become a member +of the clergy, and go preach to the heathen. He spent his days in +reading, his nights in the study of divine truths. Then he got on the +kind side of a committee of very excellent ladies, who, having duly +considered his qualities, pronounced him exactly suited to the study of +theology. Ladies were generally good judges of such matters, and Brother +Spyke felt he could not do better than act up to their opinions. To all +these things Mrs. Swiggs listens with delight.</p> + +<p>Spyke, too, is in every way a well made-up man, being extremely tall and +lean of figure, with nice Saxon hair and whiskers, mild but thoughtful +blue eyes, an anxious expression of countenance, a thin, squeaking +voice, and features sufficiently delicate and regular for his calling. +His dress, too, is always exactly clerical. If he be cold and pedantic +in his manner, the fault must be set down to the errors of the +profession, rather than to any natural inclination of his own. But what +is singular of Brother Spyke is, that, notwithstanding his passion for +delving the heathen world, and dragging into Christian light and love +the benighted wretches there found, he has never in his life given a +thought for that heathen world at his own door—a heathen world sinking +in the blackest pool of misery and death, in the very heart of an +opulent city, over which it hurls its seething pestilence, and scoffs at +the commands of high heaven. No, he never thought of that Babylon of +vice and crime—that heathen world pleading with open jaws at his own +door. He had no thought for how much money might be saved, and how much +more good done, did he but turn his eyes; go into this dark world (the +Points) pleading at his feet, nerve himself to action, and lend a strong +hand to help drag off the film of its degradation. In addition to this, +Brother Spyke was sharp enough to discover the fact that a country +parson does not enjoy the most enviable situation. A country parson must +put up with the smallest salary; he must preach the very best of +sermons; he must flatter and flirt with all the marriageable ladies of +his church; he must consult the tastes, but offend none of the old +ladies; he must submit to have the sermon he strained his brain to make +perfect, torn to pieces by a dozen wise old women, who claim the right +of carrying the church on their shoulders; he must have dictated to him +what sort of dame he may take for wife;—in a word, he must bear meekly +a deal of pestering and starvation, or be in bad odor with the senior +members of the sewing circle. Duly appreciating all these difficulties, +Brother Spyke chose a mission to Antioch, where the field of his labors +would be wide, and the gates not open to restraints. And though he could +not define the exact character of his mission to Antioch, he so worked +upon the sympathies of the credulous old lady, as to well-nigh create in +her mind a resolve to give the amount she had struggled to get and set +apart for the benefit of those two institutions ("the Tract Society," +and "The Home of the Foreign Missions"), all to the getting himself off +to Antioch.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h3>CHAPTER XXI.</h3> + +<p class='center' style='font-size:smaller' >MR. SNIVEL PURSUES HIS SEARCH FOR THE VOTE-CRIBBER.</p> + + +<p>While Mrs. Swiggs is being entertained by Sister Scudder and her +clerical friends in New York, Mr. Snivel is making good his demand on +her property in Charleston. As the agent of Keepum, he has attached her +old slaves, and what few pieces of furniture he could find; they will in +a few days be sold for the satisfaction of her debts. Mrs. Swiggs, it +must be said, never had any very nice appreciation of debt-paying, +holding it much more legitimate that her creditors accept her dignity in +satisfaction of any demand they chanced to have against her. As for her +little old house, the last abode of the last of the great Swiggs +family,—that, like numerous other houses of our "very first families," +is mortgaged for more than it is worth, to Mr. Staple the grocer. We +must, however, turn to Mr. Snivel.</p> + +<p>Mr. Snivel is seen, on the night after the secret interview at the +Charleston Hotel, in a happy mood, passing down King street. A little, +ill-featured man, with a small, but florid face, a keen, lecherous eye, +leans on his arm. They are in earnest conversation.</p> + +<p>"I think the mystery is nearly cleared up, Keepum" says Snivel.</p> + +<p>"There seems no getting a clue to the early history of this Madame +Montford, 'tis true. Even those who introduced her to Charleston society +know nothing of her beyond a certain period. All anterior to that is +wrapped in suspicion," returns Keepum, fingering his massive gold chain +and seals, that pend from his vest, then releasing his hold of Mr. +Snivel's arm, and commencing to button closely his blue dress coat, +which is profusely decorated with large gilt buttons. "She's the mother +of the dashing harlot, or I'm no prophet, nevertheless," he concludes, +shaking his head significantly.</p> + +<p>"You may almost swear it—a bad conscience is a horrid bore; d—n me, if +I can't see through the thing. (Mr. Snivel laughs.) Better put our +female friends on their guard, eh?"</p> + +<p>"They had better drop her as quietly as possible," rejoins Mr. Keepum, +drawing his white glove from off his right hand, and extending his cigar +case.</p> + +<p>Mr. Snivel having helped himself to a cigar, says: "D—n me, if she +didn't faint in my arms last night. I made a discovery that brought +something of deep interest back to her mind, and gave her timbers +such a shock! I watched, and read the whole story in her emotions. +One accustomed to the sharps of the legal profession can do this sort +of thing. She is afraid of approaching this beautiful creature, Anna +Bonard, seeing the life she lives, and the suspicions it might create +in fashionable society, did she pursue such a course to the end of +finding out whether she be really the lost child of the relative she +refers to so often. Her object is to find one Mag Munday, who used to +knock about here, and with whom the child was left. But enough of this +for the present." Thus saying, they enter the house of the old antiquary, +and finding no one but Maria at home, Mr. Snivel takes the liberty of +throwing his arms about her waist. This done, he attempts to drag her +across the room and upon the sofa. "Neither your father nor you ever +had a better friend," he says, as the girl struggles from his grasp, +shrinks at his feet, and, with a look of disdain, upbraids him for +his attempt to take advantage of a lone female.</p> + +<p>"High, ho!" interposes Keepum, "what airs these sort of people put on, +eh? Don't amount to much, no how; they soon get over them, you know. A +blasted deal of assumption, as you say. Ha, ha, ha! I rather like this +sort of modesty. 'Tisn't every one can put it cleverly." Mr. Snivel +winks to Keepum, who makes an ineffectual attempt to extinguish the +light, which Maria seizes in her hand, and summoning her courage, stands +before them in a defiant attitude, an expression of hate and scorn on +her countenance. "Ah, fiend! you take this liberty—you seek to destroy +me because I am poor—because you think me humble—an easy object to +prey upon. I am neither a stranger to the world nor your cowardly +designs; and so long as I have life you shall not gloat over the +destruction of my virtue. Approach me at your peril—knaves! You have +compromised my father; you have got him in your grasp, that you may the +more easily destroy me. But you will be disappointed, your perfidy will +recoil on yourselves: though stripped of all else, I will die protecting +that virtue you would not dare to offend but for my poverty." This +unexpected display of resolution has the effect of making the position +of the intruders somewhat uncomfortable. Mr. Keepum, whose designs +Snivel would put in execution, sinks, cowardly, upon the sofa, while his +compatriot (both are celebrated for their chivalry) stands off apace +endeavoring to palliate the insult with facetious remarks. (This +chivalry of ours is a mockery, a convenient word in the foul mouths of +fouler ruffians.) Mr. Snivel makes a second attempt to overcome the +unprotected girl. With every expression of hate and scorn rising to her +face, she bids him defiance. Seeing himself thus firmly repulsed, he +begs to assure her, on the word of a gentleman—a commodity always on +hand, and exceedingly cheap with us—he was far from intending an +insult. He meant it for a bit of a good turn—nothing more. "Always +fractious at first—these sort of people are," pursues Keepum, +relighting his cigar as he sits on the sofa, squinting his right eye. +"Take bravely to gentlemen after a little display of modesty—always! +Try her again, Squire." Mr. Snivel dashes the candle from her hand, and +in the darkness grasps her wrists. The enraged girl shrieks, and calls +aloud for assistance. Simultaneously a blow fells Mr. Snivel to the +floor. The voice of Tom Swiggs is heard, crying: "Wretch! villain!—what +brings you here? (Mr. Keepum, like the coward, who fears the vengeance +he has merited, makes good his escape.) Will you never cease polluting +the habitations of the poor? Would to God there was justice for the +poor, as well as law for the rich; then I would make thee bite the dust, +like a dying viper. You should no longer banquet on poor virtue. +Wretch!—I would teach thee that virtue has its value with the poor as +well as the rich;—that with the true gentleman it is equally sacred." +Tom stands a few moments over the trembling miscreant, Maria sinks into +a chair, and with her elbows resting on the table, buries her face in +her hands and gives vent to her tears.</p> + +<p>"Never did criminal so merit punishment; but I will prove thee not worth +my hand. Go, wretch, go! and know that he who proves himself worthy of +entering the habitations of the humble is more to be prized than kings +and princes." Tom relights the candle in time to see Mr. Snivel rushing +into the street.</p> + +<p>The moon sheds a pale light over the city as the two chivalric +gentlemen, having rejoined and sworn to have revenge, are seen entering +a little gate that opens to a dilapidated old building, fronted by a +neglected garden, situate on the north side of Queen street, and in days +gone by called "Rogues' Retreat." "Rogues' Retreat" has scared vines +creeping over its black, clap-boarded front, which viewed from the +street appears in a squatting mood, while its broken door, closed +shutters—the neglected branches of grape vines that depend upon decayed +trellise and arbors, invest it with a forlorn air: indeed, one might +without prejudicing his faculties imagine it a fit receptacle for our +deceased politicians and our whiskey-drinking congressmen—the last +resting-place of our departed chivalry. Nevertheless, generous reader, +we will show you that "Rogues' Retreat" serves a very different purpose. +Our mob-politicians, who make their lungs and fists supply the want of +brains, use it as their favorite haunt, and may be seen on the eve of an +election passing in and out of a door in the rear. Hogsheads of bad +whiskey have been drunk in "Rogues' Retreat;" it reeks with the fumes of +uncounted cigars; it has been the scene of untold villanies. Follow us; +we will forego politeness, and peep in through a little, +suspicious-looking window, in the rear of the building. This window +looks into a cavern-like room, some sixteen feet by thirty, the ceiling +of which is low, and blotched here and there with lamp-smoke and +water-stains, the plastering hanging in festoons from the walls, and +lighted by the faint blaze of a small globular lamp, depending from the +centre, and shedding a lurid glare over fourteen grotesque faces, formed +round a broad deal-table. Here, at one side of the table sits Judge +Sleepyhorn, Milman Mingle, the vote-cribber, on his right; there, on the +other, sits Mr. Snivel and Mr. Keepum. More conspicuous than anything +else, stands, in the centre of the table, bottles and decanters of +whiskey, of which each man is armed with a stout glass. "I am as well +aware of the law as my friend who has just taken his seat can be. But we +all know that the law can be made subordinate; and it must be made +subordinate to party ends. We must not (understand me, I do not say this +in my judicial capacity) be too scrupulous when momentous issues are +upon us. The man who has not nerve enough to make citizens by the +dozen—to stuff double-drawered ballot-boxes, is not equal to the times +we live in;—this is a great moral fact." This is said by the Judge, +who, having risen with an easy air, sits down and resumes his glass and +cigar.</p> + +<p>"Them's my sentiments—exactly," interposes the vote-cribber, his burly, +scarred face, and crispy red hair and beard, forming a striking picture +in the pale light. "I have given up the trade of making Presidents, what +I used to foller when, you see, I lived in North Caroliner; but, I tell +you on the faith of my experience, that to carry the day we must let the +law slide, and crib with a free chain: there's no gettin' over this."</p> + +<p>"It is due," interrupts the Judge, again rising to his feet and bowing +to the cribber, "to this worthy man, whose patriotism has been tried so +often within prison-walls, that we give weight to his advice. He bears +the brunt of the battle like a hero—he is a hero!" (The vote-cribber +acknowledges the compliment by filling his glass and drinking to the +Judge.)</p> + +<p>"Of this worthy gentleman I have, as a member of the learned profession, +an exalted opinion. His services are as necessary to our success as +steam to the speed of a locomotive. I am in favor of leaving the law +entirely out of the question. What society sanctions as a means to party +ends, the law in most cases fails to reach," rejoins a tall, +sandy-complexioned man, of the name of Booper, very distinguished among +lawyers and ladies. Never was truth spoken with stronger testimony at +hand. Mr. Keepum could boast of killing two poor men; Mr. Snivel could +testify to the fallacy of the law by gaining him an honorable acquittal. +There were numerous indictments against Mr. Keepum for his dealings in +lottery tickets, but they found their way into the Attorney-General's +pocket, and it was whispered he meant to keep them there. It was indeed +pretty well known he could not get them out in consequence of the gold +Keepum poured in. Not a week passes but men kill each other in the open +streets. We call these little affairs, "rencontres;" the fact is, we are +become so accustomed to them that we rather like them, and regard them +as evidences of our advanced civilization. We are infested with +slave-hunters, and slave-killers, who daily disgrace us with their +barbarities; yet the law is weak when the victor is strong. So we +continue to live in the harmless belief that we are the most chivalrous +people in the world.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Booper!" ejaculates Mr. Snivel, knocking the ashes from his cigar +and rising to his feet, "you have paid no more than a merited +compliment to the masterly completeness of this excellent man's +cribbing. (He points to the cribber, and bows.) Now, permit me to say +here, I have at my disposal a set of fellows, (he smiles,) who can fight +their way into Congress, duplicate any system of sharps, and stand in +fear of nothing. Oh! gentlemen, (Mr. Snivel becomes enthusiastic.) I +was—as I have said, I believe—enjoying a bottle of champagne with my +friend Keepum here, when we overheard two Dutchmen—the Dutch always go +with the wrong party—discoursing about a villanous caucus held to-night +in King street. There is villany up with these Dutch! But, you see, +we—that is, I mean I—made some forty or more citizens last year. We +have the patent process; we can make as many this year."</p> + +<p>Mr. Sharp, an exceedingly clever politician, who has meekly born any +number of cudgellings at the polls, and hopes ere long to get the +appointment of Minister to Paris, interrupts by begging that Mr. Soloman +will fill his glass, and resume his seat. Mr. Snivel having taking his +seat, Mr. Sharp proceeds: "I tell you all what it is, says I, the other +day to a friend—these ponderous Dutch ain't to be depended on. Then, +says I, you must separate the Irish into three classes, and to each +class you must hold out a different inducement, says I. There's the Rev. +Father Flaherty, says I, and he is a trump card at electioneering. He +can form a breach between his people and the Dutch, and, says I, by the +means of this breach we will gain the whole tribe of Emeralds over to +our party. I confess I hate these vagabonds right soundly; but necessity +demands that we butter and sugar the mover until we carry our ends. You +must not look at the means, says I, when the ends are momentous."</p> + +<p>"The staunch Irish," pursues the Judge, rising as Mr. Sharp sits down, +"are noble fellows, and with us. To the middle class—the grocers and +shopkeepers—we must, however, hold out flattering inducements; such as +the reduction of taxes, the repeal of our oppressive license laws, +taking the power out of the hands of our aristocracy—they are very +tender here—and giving equal rights to emigrants. These points we must +put as Paul did his sermons—with force and ingenuity. As for the low +Irish, all we have to do is to crib them, feed and pickle them in +whiskey for a week. To gain an Irishman's generosity, you cannot use a +better instrument than meat, drink, and blarney. I often contemplate +these fellows when I am passing sentence upon them for crime."</p> + +<p>"True! I have the same dislike to them personally; but politically, the +matter assumes quite a different form of attraction. The laboring +Irish—the dull-headed—are what we have to do with. We must work them +over, and over, and over, until we get them just right. Then we must +turn them all into legal voting citizens—"</p> + +<p>"That depends on how long they have been in the country," interrupts a +brisk little man, rising quickly to his feet, and assuming a legal air.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Sprig! you are entirely behind the age. It matters not how long +these gentlemen from Ireland have been in the country. They take to +politics like rats to good cheese. A few months' residence, and a little +working over, you know, and they become trump voters. The Dutch are a +different sort of animal; the fellows are thinkers," resumes the Judge.</p> + +<p>Mr. Snivel, who has been sipping his whiskey, and listening very +attentively to the Judge, rises to what he calls the most important +order. He has got the paper all ready, and proposes the gentlemen he +thinks best qualified for the naturalization committee. This done, Mr. +Snivel draws from his pocket a copy of the forged papers, which are +examined, and approved by every one present. This instrument is +surmounted with the eagle and arms of the United States, and reads thus:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p class='center'>"<i>STATE OF NEW YORK</i>.</p> + +<p>"In the Court of Common Pleas for the city and county of New York:</p> + +<p>"I—— do declare on oath, that it is <i>bonâ fide</i> my intention to +become a citizen of the United States, and to renounce forever all +allegiance and fidelity to any foreign prince, potentate, State or +sovereignty whatever, and particularly to the Queen of the United +Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland, of whom I am a subject."</p> + +<p> +Signed this—— day of—— 184-. +</p> +<p style="margin-left: 25em;"><span class="smcap">James Connor</span>, Clerk. +</p> + +<p>"Clerk's office, Court of Common Pleas for the city and county of +New York."</p> + +<p>"I hereby certify that the foregoing is a true copy of an original +declaration of intention remaining on record in my office, &c., +&c., &c."</p></div> + +<p>"There! it required skill and practice to imitate like that" Mr. Snivel +exultingly exclaims. "We require to make thirty-seven citizens, and have +prepared the exact number of papers. If the cribbers do their duty, the +day is ours." Thus is revealed one of the scenes common to "Rogues' +Retreat." We shrink at the multiplicity of crime in our midst; we too +seldom trace the source from whence it flows. If we did but turn our +eyes in the right direction we would find the very men we have elected +our guardians, protecting the vicious, whose power they +covet—sacrificing their high trust to a low political ambition. You +cannot serve a political end by committing a wrong without inflicting a +moral degradation on some one. Political intrigue begets laxity of +habits; it dispels that integrity without which the unfixed mind becomes +vicious; it acts as a festering sore in the body politic.</p> + +<p>Having concluded their arrangements for the Mayor's election, the party +drinks itself into a noisy mood, each outshouting the other for the +right to speak, each refilling and emptying his glass, each asserting +with vile imprecations, his dignity as a gentleman. Midnight finds the +reeling party adjourning in the midst of confusion.</p> + +<p>Mr. Snivel winks the vote-cribber into a corner, and commences +interrogating him concerning Mag Munday. The implacable face of the +vote-cribber reddens, he contorts his brows, frets his jagged beard with +the fingers of his left hand, runs his right over the crown of his head, +and stammers: "I know'd her, lived with her—she used to run sort of +wild, and was twice flogged. She got crazed at last!" He shrugs his +stalworth shoulders and pauses. "Being a politician, you see, a body +can't divest their minds of State affairs sufficiently to keep up on +women matters," he pursues: "She got into the poor-house, that I +knows—"</p> + +<p>"She is dead then?" interposes Mr. Snivel.</p> + +<p>"As like as not. The poor relatives of our 'first families' rot and die +there without much being said about it. Just look in at that +institution—it's a terrible place to kill folks off!—and if she be not +there then come to me. Don't let the keepers put you off. Pass through +the outer gate, into and through the main building, then turn sharp to +the left, and advance some twenty feet up a filthy passage, then enter a +passage on the right, (have a light with you,) that leads to a dozen or +fourteen steps, wet and slippery. Then you must descend into a sort of +grotto, or sickly vault, which you will cross and find yourself in a +spacious passage, crawling with beetles and lizards. Don't be +frightened, sir; keep on till you hear moanings and clankings of chains. +Then you will come upon a row of horrid cells, only suited for dog +kennels. In these cells our crazy folks are chained and left to die. +Give Glentworthy a few shillings for liquor, sir, and he, having these +poor devils in charge, will put you through. It's a terrible place, sir, +but our authorities never look into it, and few of our people know of +its existence."</p> + +<p>Mr. Snivel thanks the vote-cribber, who pledges his honor he would +accompany him, but for the reason that he opens crib to-morrow, and has +in his eye a dozen voters he intends to look up. He has also a few +recently-arrived sons of the Emerald Isle he purposes turning into +citizens.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h3>CHAPTER XXII</h3> + +<p class='center' style='font-size:smaller'>MRS. SWIGGS FALLS UPON A MODERN HEATHEN WORLD.</p> + + +<p>Purged of all the ill-humors of her mind, Mrs. Swiggs finds herself, on +the morning following the excellent little gathering at Sister +Scudder's, restored to the happiest of tempers. The flattery +administered by Brother Spyke, and so charmingly sprinkled with his +pious designs on the heathen world, has had the desired effect. This +sort of drug has, indeed, a wonderful efficacy in setting disordered +constitutions to rights. It would not become us to question the +innocence, or the right to indulge in such correctives; it is enough +that our venerable friend finds herself in a happy vein, and is resolved +to spend the day for the benefit of that heathen world, the darkness of +which Brother Spyke pictured in colors so terrible.</p> + +<p>Breakfast is scarcely over when Sister Slocum, in great agitation, comes +bustling into the parlor, offers the most acceptable apologies for her +absence, and pours forth such a vast profusion of solicitude for Mrs. +Swiggs' welfare, that that lady is scarce able to withstand the +kindness. She recounts the numerous duties that absorb her attention, +the missions she has on hand, the means she uses to keep up an interest +in them, the amount of funds necessary to their maintenance. A large +portion of these funds she raises with her own energy. She will drag up +the heathen world; she will drag down Satan. Furnishing Mrs. Swiggs +with the address of the House of the Foreign Missions, in Centre street, +she excuses herself. How superlatively happy she would be to accompany +Mrs. Swiggs. A report to present to the committee on finance, she +regrets, will prevent this. However, she will join her precisely at +twelve o'clock, at the House. She must receive the congratulations of +the Board. She must have a reception that will show how much the North +respects her co-laborers of the South. And with this, Sister Slocum +takes leave of her guest, assuring her that all she has to do is to get +into the cars in the Bowery. They will set her down at the door.</p> + +<p>Ten o'clock finds our indomitable lady, having preferred the less +expensive mode of walking, entering a strange world. Sauntering along +the Bowery she turns down Bayard street. Bayard street she finds lined +with filthy looking houses, swarming with sickly, ragged, and besotted +poor; the street is knee-deep with corrupting mire; carts are tilted +here and there at intervals; the very air seems hurling its pestilence +into your blood. Ghastly-eyed and squalid children, like ants in quest +of food, creep and swarm over the pavement, begging for bread or +uttering profane oaths at one another. Mothers who never heard the Word +of God, nor can be expected to teach it to their children, protrude +their vicious faces from out reeking gin shops, and with bare breasts +and uncombed hair, sweep wildly along the muddy pavement, disappear into +some cavern-like cellar, and seek on some filthy straw a resting place +for their wasting bodies. A whiskey-drinking Corporation might feast its +peculative eyes upon hogs wallowing in mud; and cellars where swarming +beggars, for six cents a night, cover with rags their hideous +heads—where vice and crime are fostered, and into which your sensitive +policeman prefers not to go, are giving out their seething miasma. The +very neighborhood seems vegetating in mire. In the streets, in the +cellars, in the filthy lanes, in the dwellings of the honest poor, as +well as the vicious, muck and mire is the predominating order. The +besotted remnants of depraved men, covered with rags and bedaubed with +mire, sit, half sleeping in disease and hunger on decayed door-stoops. +Men with bruised faces, men with bleared eyes, men in whose every +feature crime and dissipation is stamped, now drag their waning bodies +from out filthy alleys, as if to gasp some breath of air, then drag +themselves back, as if to die in a desolate hiding-place. Engines of +pestilence and death the corporation might see and remove, if it would, +are left here to fester—to serve a church-yard as gluttonous as its own +belly. The corporation keeps its eyes in its belly, its little sense in +its big boots, and its dull action in the whiskey-jug. Like Mrs. Swiggs, +it cannot afford to do anything for this heathen world in the heart of +home. No, sir! The corporation has the most delicate sense of its +duties. It is well paid to nurture the nucleus of a pestilence that may +some day break out and sweep over the city like an avenging enemy. It +thanks kind Providence, eating oysters and making Presidents the while, +for averting the dire scourge it encourages with its apathy. Like our +humane and very fashionable preachers, it contents itself with looking +into the Points from Broadway. What more would you ask of it?</p> + +<p>Mrs. Swiggs is seized with fear and trembling. Surely she is in a world +of darkness. Can it be that so graphically described by Brother +Syngleton Spyke? she questions within herself. It might, indeed, put +Antioch to shame: but the benighted denizens with which it swarms speak +her own tongue. "It is a deal worse in Orange street,<a name="FNanchor_3_3" id="FNanchor_3_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> Marm—a deal, I +assure you!" speaks a low, muttering voice. Lady Swiggs is startled. She +only paused a moment to view this sea of vice and wretchedness she finds +herself surrounded with. Turning quickly round she sees before her a +man, or what there is left of a man. His tattered garments, his lean, +shrunken figure, his glassy eyes, and pale, haggard face, cause her to +shrink back in fright. He bows, touches his shattered hat, and says, "Be +not afraid good Madam. May I ask if you have not mistaken your way?" +Mrs. Swiggs looks querulously through her spectacles and says, "Do tell +me where I am?" "In the Points, good Madam. You seem confused, and I +don't wonder. It's a dreadful place. I know it, madam, to my sorrow." +There is a certain politeness in the manner of this man—an absence of +rudeness she is surprised to find in one so dejected. The red, distended +nose, the wild expression of his countenance, his jagged hair, hanging +in tufts over his ragged coat collar, give him a repulsiveness not +easily described. In answer to an inquiry he says, "They call me, Madam, +and I'm contented with the name,—they call me Tom Toddleworth, the +Chronicle. I am well down—not in years, but sorrow. Being sick of the +world I came here, have lived, or rather drifted about, in this sea of +hopeless misery, homeless and at times foodless, for ten years or more. +Oh! I have seen better days, Madam. You are a stranger here. May God +always keep you a stranger to the sufferings of those who dwell with us. +I never expect to be anything again, owe nothing to the world, and +never go into Broadway."</p> + +<p>"Never go into Broadway," repeats Mrs. Swiggs, her fingers wandering to +her spectacles. Turning into Orange street, Mr. Toddleworth tenders his +services in piloting Mrs. Swiggs into Centre street, which, as he adds, +will place her beyond harm. As they advance the scene becomes darker and +darker. Orange street seems that centre from which radiates the avenues +of every vice known to a great city. One might fancy the world's +outcasts hurled by some mysterious hand into this pool of crime and +misery, and left to feast their wanton appetites and die. "And you have +no home, my man?" says Mrs. Swiggs, mechanically. "As to that, Madam," +returns the man, with a bow, "I can't exactly say I have no home. I kind +of preside over and am looked up to by these people. One says, 'come +spend a night with me, Mr. Toddleworth,' another says, 'come spend a +night with me, Mr. Tom Toddleworth.' I am a sort of respectable man with +them, have a place to lay down free, in any of their houses. They all +esteem me, and say, come spend a night with me, Mr. Toddleworth. It's +very kind of them. And whenever they get a drop of gin I'm sure of a +taste. Surmising what I was once, they look up to me, you see. This +gives me heart." And as he says this he smiles, and draws about him the +ragged remnants of his coat, as if touched by shame. Arrived at the +corner of Orange street, Mr. Toddleworth pauses and begs his charge to +survey the prospect. Look whither she will nothing but a scene of +desolation—a Babylon of hideous, wasting forms, mucky streets, and +reeking dens, meet her eye. The Jews have arranged themselves on one +side of Orange street, to speculate on the wasted harlotry of the +other. "Look you, Madam!" says Mr. Toddleworth, leaning on his stick and +pointing towards Chatham street. "A desert, truly," replies the august +old lady, nervously twitching her head. She sees to the right ("it is +wantonness warring upon misery," says Mr. Toddleworth) a long line of +irregular, wooden buildings, black and besmeared with mud. Little houses +with decrepit doorsteps; little houses with decayed platforms in front; +little dens that seem crammed with rubbish; little houses with +black-eyed, curly-haired, and crooked-nosed children looking shyly about +the doors; little houses with lusty and lecherous-eyed Jewesses sitting +saucily in the open door; little houses with open doors, broken windows, +and shattered shutters, where the devil's elixir is being served to +ragged and besotted denizens; little houses into which women with +blotched faces slip suspiciously, deposit their almost worthless rags, +and pass out to seek the gin-shop; little houses with eagle-faced men +peering curiously out at broken windows, or beckoning some wayfarer to +enter and buy from their door; little houses piled inside with the +cast-off garments of the poor and dissolute, and hung outside with +smashed bonnets, old gowns, tattered shawls; flaunting—red, blue, and +yellow, in the wind, emblematic of those poor wretches, on the opposite +side, who have pledged here their last offerings, and blazed down into +that stage of human degradation, which finds the next step the +grave—all range along, forming a picturesque but sad panorama. Mr. +Moses, the man of the eagle face, who keeps the record of death, as the +neighbors call it, sits opulently in his door, and smokes his cigar; +while his sharp-eyed daughters estimate exactly how much it is safe to +advance on the last rag some lean wretch would pledge. He will tell you +just how long that brawny harlot, passing on the opposite side, will +last, and what the few rags on her back will be worth when she is +"shoved into Potters' Field." At the sign of the "Three Martyrs" Mr. +Levy is seen, in his fashionable coat, and a massive chain falling over +his tight waistcoat, registering the names of his grotesque customers, +ticketing their little packages, and advancing each a shilling or two, +which they will soon spend at the opposite druggery. Thus bravely wages +the war. London has nothing so besotted, Paris nothing so vicious, +Naples nothing so dark and despairing, as this heathen world we pass by +so heedlessly. Beside it even the purlieus of Rome sink into +insignificance. Now run your eye along the East side of Orange street. A +sidewalk sinking in mire; a long line of one-story wooden shanties, +ready to cave-in with decay; dismal looking groceries, in which the god, +gin, is sending his victims by hundreds to the greedy graveyard; +suspicious looking dens with dingy fronts, open doors, and windows +stuffed with filthy rags—in which crimes are nightly perpetrated, and +where broken-hearted victims of seduction and neglect, seeking here a +last refuge, are held in a slavery delicacy forbids our describing; dens +where negro dancers nightly revel, and make the very air re-echo their +profaning voices; filthy lanes leading to haunts up alleys and in narrow +passages, where thieves and burglars hide their vicious heads; +mysterious looking steps leading to cavern-like cellars, where swarm and +lay prostrate wretched beings made drunk by the "devil's elixir"—all +these beset the East side of Orange street. Wasted nature, blanched and +despairing, ferments here into one terrible pool. Women in +gaudy-colored dresses, their bared breasts and brawny arms contrasting +curiously with their wicked faces, hang lasciviously over "half-doors," +taunt the dreamy policeman on his round, and beckon the unwary stranger +into their dens. Piles of filth one might imagine had been thrown up by +the devil or the street commissioner, and in which you might bury a +dozen fat aldermen without missing one; little shops where unwholesome +food is sold; corner shops where idlers of every color, and sharpers of +all grades, sit dreaming out the day over their gin—are here to be +found. Young Ireland would, indeed, seem to have made this the citadel +from which to vomit his vice over the city.</p> + +<p>"They're perfectly wild, Madam—these children are," says Mr. +Toddleworth, in reply to a question Mrs. Swiggs put respecting the +immense number of ragged and profaning urchins that swarm the streets. +"They never heard of the Bible, nor God, nor that sort of thing. How +could they hear of it? No one ever comes in here—that is, they come in +now and then, and throw a bit of a tract in here and there, and are glad +to get out with a whole coat. The tracts are all Greek to the dwellers +here. Besides that, you see, something must be done for the belly, +before you can patch up the head. I say this with a fruitful experience. +A good, kind little man, who seems earnest in the welfare of these wild +little children that you see running about here—not the half of them +know their parents—looks in now and then, acts as if he wasn't afraid +of us, (that is a good deal, Madam) and the boys are beginning to take +to him. But, with nothing but his kind heart and earnest resolution, +he'll find a rugged mountain to move. If he move it, he will deserve a +monument of fairest marble erected to his memory, and letters of gold +to emblazon his deeds thereon. He seems to understand the key to some of +their affections. It's no use mending the sails without making safe the +hull."</p> + +<p>At this moment Mrs. Swiggs' attention is attracted by a crowd of ragged +urchins and grotesque-looking men, gathered about a heap of filth at +that corner of Orange street that opens into the Points.</p> + +<p>"They are disinterring his Honor, the Mayor," says Mr. Toddleworth. "Do +this sort of thing every day, Madam; they mean no harm, you see."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Swiggs, curious to witness the process of disinterring so +distinguished a person, forgets entirely her appointment at the House of +the Foreign Missions, crowds her way into the filthy throng, and watches +with intense anxiety a vacant-looking idiot, who has seen some sixteen +summers, lean and half clad, and who has dug with his staff a hole deep +in the mud, which he is busy piling up at the edges.</p> + +<p>"Deeper, deeper!" cries out a dozen voices, of as many mischievous +urchins, who are gathered round in a ring, making him the victim of +their sport. Having cast his glassy eyes upward, and scanned vacantly +his audience, he sets to work again, and continues throwing out dead +cats by the dozen, all of which he exults over, and pauses now and then +for the approbation of the bystanders, who declare they bear no +resemblance to his Honor, or any one of the Board of Aldermen. One +chubby urchin, with a bundle of <i>Tribunes</i> under his arm, looks +mischievously into the pit, and says, "His 'Onor 'ill want the +<i>Tribune</i>." Another, of a more taciturn disposition, shrugs his +shoulders, gives his cap a pull over his eyes, and says, spicing his +declaration with an oath, "He'll buy two <i>Heralds</i>!—he will." The +taciturn urchin draws them from his bundle with an air of independence, +flaunts them in the face of his rival, and exults over their merits. A +splashing of mud, followed by a deafening shout, announces that the +persevering idiot has come upon the object he seeks. One proclaims to +his motley neighbors that the whole corporation is come to light; +another swears it is only his Honor and a dead Alderman. A third, more +astute than the rest, says it is only the head and body of the +Corporation—a dead pig and a decaying pumpkin! Shout after shout goes +up as the idiot, exultingly, drags out the prostrate pig, following it +with the pumpkin. Mr. Toddleworth beckons Lady Swiggs away. The +wicked-faced harlots are gathering about her in scores. One has just +been seen fingering her dress, and hurrying away, disappearing +suspiciously into an Alley.</p> + +<p>"You see, Madam," says Mr. Toddleworth, as they gain the vicinity of Cow +Bay, "it is currently reported, and believed by the dwellers here, that +our Corporation ate itself out of the world not long since; and seeing +how much they suffer by the loss of such—to have a dead Corporation in +a great city, is an evil, I assure you—an institution, they adopt this +method of finding it. It affords them no little amusement. These +swarming urchins will have the filthy things laid out in state, holding +with due ceremony an inquest over them, and mischievously proposing to +the first policeman who chances along, that he officiate as coroner. +Lady Swiggs has not a doubt that light might be valuably reflected over +this heathen world. Like many other very excellent ladies, however, she +has no candles for a heathen world outside of Antioch."</p> + +<p>Mr. Toddleworth escorts her safely into Centre street, and directs her +to the House of the Foreign Missions.</p> + +<p>"Thank you! thank you!—may God never let you want a shilling," he says, +bowing and touching his hat as Mrs. Swiggs puts four shillings into his +left hand.</p> + +<p>"One shilling, Madam," he pursues, with a smile, "will get me a new +collar. A clean collar now and then, it must be said, gives a body a +look of respectability."</p> + +<p>Mr. Toddleworth has a passion for new collars, regards them as a means +of sustaining his respectability. Indeed, he considers himself in full +dress with one mounted, no matter how ragged the rest of his wardrobe. +And when he walks out of a morning, thus conditioned, his friends greet +him with: "Hi! ho! Mister Toddleworth is uppish this morning." He has +bid his charge good morning, and hurries back to his wonted haunts. +There is a mysterious and melancholy interest in this man's history, +which many have attempted but failed to fathom. He was once heard to say +his name was not Toddleworth—that he had sunk his right name in his +sorrows. He was sentimental at times, always used good language, and +spoke like one who had seen better days and enjoyed a superior +education. He wanted, he would say, when in one of his melancholy moods, +to forget the world, and have the world forget him. Thus he shut himself +up in the Points, and only once or twice had he been seen in the Bowery, +and never in Broadway during his sojourn among the denizens who swarm +that vortex of death. How he managed to obtain funds, for he was never +without a shilling, was equally involved in mystery. He had no very bad +habits, seemed inoffensive to all he approached, spoke familiarly on +past events, and national affairs, and discovered a general knowledge of +the history of the world. And while he was always ready to share his +shilling with his more destitute associates, he ever maintained a degree +of politeness and civility toward those he was cast among not common to +the place. He was ready to serve every one, would seek out the sick and +watch over them with a kindness almost paternal, discovering a singular +familiarity with the duties of a physician. He had, however, an +inveterate hatred of fashionable wives; and whenever the subject was +brought up, which it frequently was by the denizens of the Points, he +would walk away, with a sigh. "Fashionable wives," he would mutter, his +eyes filling with tears, "are never constant. Ah! they have deluged the +world with sorrow, and sent me here to seek a hiding place."</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h3>CHAPTER XXIII.</h3> + +<p class='center' style='font-size:smaller'>IN WHICH THE VERY BEST INTENTIONS ARE SEEN TO FAIL.</p> + + +<p>The city clock strikes one as Mrs. Swiggs, nervous and weary, enters the +House of the Foreign Missions. Into a comfortably-furnished room on the +right, she is ushered by a man meekly dressed, and whose countenance +wears an expression of melancholy. Maps and drawings of Palestine, +Hindostan, and sundry other fields of missionary labor, hang here and +there upon the walls. These are alternated with nicely-framed engravings +and lithographs of Mission establishments in the East, all located in +some pretty grove, and invested with a warmth and cheerfulness that +cannot fail to make a few years' residence in them rather desirable than +otherwise. These in turn are relieved with portraits of distinguished +missionaries. Earnest-faced busts, in plaster, stand prominently about +the room, periodicals and papers are piled on little shelves, and bright +bookcases are filled with reports and various documents concerning the +society, all bound so exactly. The good-natured man of the kind face +sits in refreshing ease behind a little desk; the wise-looking lean man, +in the spectacles, is just in front of him, buried in ponderous folios +of reports. In the centre of the room stands a highly-polished mahogany +table, at which Brother Spyke is seated, his elbow rested, and his head +leaning thoughtfully in his hand. The rotund figure and energetic face +of Sister Slocum is seen, whisking about conspicuously among a bevy of +sleek but rather lean gentlemen, studious of countenance, and in modest +cloth. For each she has something cheerful to impart; each in his turn +has some compliment to bestow upon her. Several nicely-dressed, but +rather meek-looking ladies, two or three accompanied by their knitting +work, have arranged themselves on a settee in front of the wise man in +the spectacles.</p> + +<p>Scarcely has the representative of our chivalry entered the room when +Sister Slocum, with all the ardor of a lover of seventeen, runs to her +with open arms, embraces her, and kisses her with an affection truly +grateful. Choking to relate her curious adventure, she is suddenly +heaped with adulations, told how the time of her coming was looked to, +as an event of no common occurrence—how Brothers Sharp, Spyke, and +Phills, expressed apprehensions for her safety this morning, each in +turn offering in the kindest manner to get a carriage and go in pursuit. +The good-natured fat man gets down from his high seat, and receives her +with pious congratulations; the man in the spectacles looks askant, and +advances with extended hand. To use a convenient phrase, she is received +with open arms; and so meek and good is the aspect, that she finds her +thoughts transported to an higher, a region where only is bliss. +Provided with a seat in a conspicuous place, she is told to consider +herself the guest of the society. Sundry ovations, Sister Slocum gives +her to understand, will be made in her honor, ere long. The fact must +here be disclosed that Sister Slocum had prepared the minds of those +present for the reception of an embodiment of perfect generosity.</p> + +<p>No sooner has Lady Swiggs time to breathe freely, than she changes the +wondrous kind aspect of the assembly, and sends it into a paroxysm of +fright, by relating her curious adventure among the denizens of the +Points. Brother Spyke nearly makes up his mind to faint; the +good-natured fat man turns pale; the wise man in the spectacles is seen +to tremble; the neatly-attired females, so pious-demeanored, express +their horror of such a place; and Sister Slocum stands aghast. "Oh! +dear, Sister Swiggs," she says, "your escape from such a vile place is +truly marvellous! Thank God you are with us once more." The good-natured +fat man says, "A horrible world, truly!" and sighs. Brother Spyke shrugs +his shoulders, adding, "No respectable person here ever thinks of going +into such a place; the people there are so corrupt." Brother Sharp says +he shudders at the very thought of such a place. He has heard much said +of the dark deeds nightly committed in it—of the stubborn vileness of +the dwellers therein. God knows he never wants to descend into it. +"Truly," Brother Phills interposes, "I walked through it once, and +beheld with mine eyes such sights, such human deformity! O, God! Since +then, I am content to go to my home through Broadway. I never forget to +shudder when I look into the vile place from a distance, nevertheless." +Brother Phills says this after the manner of a philosopher, fretting his +fingers, and contorting his comely face the while. Sister Slocum, having +recovered somewhat from the shock (the shock had no permanent effect on +any of them), hopes Sister Swiggs did not lend an ear to their false +pleadings, nor distribute charity among the vile wretches. "Such would +be like scattering chaff to the winds," a dozen voices chime in. +"Indeed!" Lady Swiggs ejaculates, giving her head a toss, in token of +her satisfaction, "not a shilling, except to the miserable wretch who +showed me the way out. And he seemed harmless enough. I never met a more +melancholy object, never!" Brother Spyke raises his eyes imploringly, +and says he harbors no ill-will against these vile people, but +melancholy is an art with them—they make it a study. They affect it +while picking one's pocket.</p> + +<p>The body now resolves itself into working order. Brother Spyke offers up +a prayer. He thanks kind Providence for the happy escape of Sister +Swiggs—this generous woman whose kindness of heart has brought her +here—from among the hardened wretches who inhabit that slough of +despair, so terrible in all its aspects, and so disgraceful to a great +and prosperous city. He thanks Him who blessed him with the light of +learning—who endowed him with vigor and resolution—and told him to go +forth in armor, beating down Satan, and raising up the heathen world. A +mustering of spectacles follows. Sister Slocum draws from her bosom a +copy of the report the wise man in the spectacles rises to read. A +fashionable gold chain and gold-framed eye-glass is called to her aid; +and with a massive pencil of gold, she dots and points certain items of +dollars and cents her keen eye rests upon every now and then.</p> + +<p>The wise man in the spectacles rises, having exchanged glances with +Sister Slocum, and commences reading a very long, and in nowise lean +report. The anxious gentlemen draw up their chairs, and turn attentive +ears. For nearly an hour, he buzzes and bores the contents of this +report into their ears, takes sundry sips of water, and informs those +present, and the world in general, that nearly forty thousand dollars +have recently been consumed for missionary labor. The school at Corsica, +the missions at Canton, Ningpo, Pu-kong, Cassaba, Abheokuta, and sundry +other places, the names of which could not, by any possibility, aid the +reader in discovering their location—all, were doing as well as could +be expected, <i>under the circumstances</i>. After many years labor, and a +considerable expenditure of money, they were encouraged to go forward, +inasmuch as the children of the school at Corsica were beginning to +learn to read. At Casaba, Droneyo, the native scholar, had, after many +years' teaching, been made conscious of the sin of idol-worship, and had +given his solemn promise to relinquish it as soon as he could propitiate +two favorite gods bequeathed to him by his great uncle. The furnace of +"Satanic cruelty" had been broken down at Dahomey. Brother Smash had, +after several years' labor, and much expense—after having broken down +his health, and the health of many others—penetrated the dark regions +of Arabia, and there found the very seat of Satanic power. It was firmly +pegged to Paganism and Mahomedan darkness! This news the world was +expected to hail with consternation. Not one word is lisped about that +terrible devil holding his court of beggary and crime in the Points. He +had all his furnaces in full blast there; his victims were legion! No +Brother Spyke is found to venture in and drag him down. The region of +the Seven Churches offers inducements more congenial. Bound about them +all is shady groves, gentle breezes, and rural habitations; in the +Points the very air is thick with pestilence!</p> + +<p>A pause follows the reading. The wise man in the spectacles—his voice +soft and persuasive, and his aspect meekness itself—would like to know +if any one present be inclined to offer a remark. General satisfaction +prevails. Brother Sharp moves, and Brother Phills seconds, that the +report be accepted. The report is accepted without a dissenting voice. A +second paper is handed him by Sister Slocum, whose countenance is seen +to flash bright with smiles. Then there follows the proclaiming of the +fact of funds, to the amount of three thousand six hundred dollars, +having been subscribed, and now ready to be appropriated to getting +Brother Syngleton Spyke off to Antioch. A din of satisfaction follows; +every face is radiant with joy. Sister Swiggs twitches her head, begins +to finger her pocket, and finally readjusts her spectacles. Having +worked her countenance into a good staring condition, she sets her eyes +fixedly upon Brother Spyke, who rises, saying he has a few words to +offer.</p> + +<p>The object of his mission to Antioch, so important at this moment, he +would not have misunderstood. Turks, Greeks, Jews, Arabs, Armenians, and +Kurds, and Yesedees—yes, brethren, Yesedees! inhabit this part of +Assyria, which opens up an extensive field of missionary labor, even +yet. Much had been done by the ancient Greeks for the people who roamed +in these Eastern wilds—much remained for us to do; for it was yet a +dark spot on the missionary map. Thousands of these poor souls were +without the saving knowledge of the Gospel. He could not shrink from a +duty so demanding—wringing his very heart with its pleadings! Giving +the light of the Gospel to these vicious Arabs and Kurds was the end and +aim of his mission. (A motion of satisfaction was here perceptible.) And +while there, he would teach the Jews a just sense of their Lord's +design—which was the subjugation of the heathen world. Inward light was +very good, old prophecies were very grand; but Judaism was made of +stubborn metal, had no missionary element in it, and could only be +forced to accept light through strong and energetic movement. He had +read with throbbing heart how Rome, while in her greatness, protected +those Christian pilgrims who went forth into the East, to do battle with +the enemy. Would not America imitate Rome, that mighty mother of +Republics? A deeper responsibility rested on her at this moment. Rome, +then, was semi-barbarous; America, now, was Christianized and civilized. +Hence she would be held more accountable for the dissemination of light.</p> + +<p>In those days the wandering Christian Jews undertook to instruct the +polished Greeks—why could not Americans at this day inculcate the +doctrines of Jesus to these educated heathen? It was a bold and daring +experiment, but he was willing to try it. The Allwise worked his wonders +in a mysterious way. In this irrelevant and somewhat mystical style, +Brother Spyke continues nearly an hour, sending his audience into a +highly-edified state. We have said mystical, for, indeed, none but those +in the secret could have divined, from Brother Spyke's logic, what was +the precise nature of his mission. His speech was very like a country +parson's model sermon; one text was selected, and a dozen or more (all +different) preached from; while fifty things were said no one could +understand.</p> + +<p>Brother Spyke sits down—Sister Slocum rises. "Our dear and very +generous guest now present," she says, addressing the good-natured fat +man in the chair, as Lady Swiggs bows, "moved by the goodness that is in +her, and conscious of the terrible condition of the heathen world, has +come nobly to our aid. Like a true Christian she has crossed the sea, +and is here. Not only is she here, but ready to give her mite toward +getting Brother Spyke off to Antioch. Another donation she proposes +giving the 'Tract Society,' an excellent institution, in high favor at +the South. Indeed I may add, that it never has offended against its +social—"</p> + +<p>Sister Slocum hesitates. Social slavery will not sound just right, she +says to her herself. She must have a term more musical, and less grating +to the ear. A smile flashes across her countenance, her gold-framed +eye-glasses vibrate in her fingers: "Well! I was going to say, their +social arrangements," she pursues.</p> + +<p>The assembly is suddenly thrown into a fit of excitement. Lady Swiggs is +seen trembling from head to foot, her yellow complexion changing to pale +white, her features contorting as with pain, and her hand clutching at +her pocket. "O heavens!" she sighs, "all is gone, gone, gone: how vain +and uncertain are the things here below." She drops, fainting, into the +arms of Sister Slocum, who has overset the wise man in the spectacles, +in her haste to catch the prostrate form. On a bench the august body is +laid. Fans, water, camphor, hartshorn, and numerous other restoratives +are brought into use. Persons get in each other's way, run every way but +the right way, causing, as is common in such cases, very unnecessary +alarm. The stately representative of the great Swiggs family lies +motionless. Like the last of our chivalry, she has nothing left her but +a name.</p> + +<p>A dash or two of cold water, and the application of a little hartshorn, +and that sympathy so necessary to the fainting of distinguished +people—proves all-efficient. A slight heaving of the bosom is detected, +the hands—they have been well chaffed—quiver and move slowly, her face +resumes its color. She opens her eyes, lays her hand solicitously on +Sister Slocum's arm: "It must be the will of Heaven," she lisps, +motioning her head, regretfully; "it cannot now be undone—"</p> + +<p>"Sister! sister! sister!" interrupts Sister Slocum, grasping her hand, +and looking inquiringly in the face of the recovering woman, "is it an +affection of the heart?—where is the pain?—what has befallen you? We +are all so sorry!"</p> + +<p>"It was there, there, there! But it is gone now." Regaining her +consciousness, she lays her hand nervously upon her pocket, and pursues: +"Oh! yes, sister, it was there when I entered that vile place, as you +call it. What am I to do? The loss of the money does not so much trouble +my mind. Oh! dear, no. It is the thought of going home deprived of the +means of aiding these noble institutions."</p> + +<p>Had Lady Swiggs inquired into the character of the purchaser of old +Dolly she might now have become conscious of the fact, that whatever +comes of evil seldom does good. The money she had so struggled to get +together to aid her in maintaining her hypocrisy, was the result of +crime. Perhaps it were better the wretch purloined it, than that the +fair name of a noble institution be stained with its acceptance. +Atonement is too often sought to be purchased with the gold got of +infamy.</p> + +<p>The cause of this fainting being traced to Lady Swiggs' pocket book +instead of her heart, the whole scene changes. Sister Slocum becomes as +one dumb, the good fat man is seized with a nervous fit, the man in the +spectacles hangs his head, and runs his fingers through his crispy hair, +as Brother Spyke elongates his lean body, and is seen going into a +melancholy mood, the others gathering round with serious faces. Lady +Swiggs commences describing with great minuteness the appearance of Mr. +Tom Toddleworth. That he is the person who carried off the money, every +one is certain. "He is the man!" responds a dozen voices. And as many +more volunteer to go in search of Mr. Detective Fitzgerald. Brother +Spyke pricks up his courage, and proceeds to initiate his missionary +labors by consulting Mr. Detective Fitzgerald, with whom he starts off +in pursuit of Mr. Tom Toddleworth.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h3>CHAPTER XXIV.</h3> + +<p class='center' style='font-size:smaller'>MR. SNIVEL ADVISES GEORGE MULLHOLLAND HOW TO MAKE STRONG LOVE.</p> + + +<p>Let us leave for a time the pursuit with which we concluded the +foregoing chapter, and return to Charleston. It is the still hour of +midnight. There has been a ball at the fashionable house of the +Flamingo, which still retains its name. In the great parlour we have +before described, standing here and there upon massive tables with +Egyptian marble-tops, are half-empty bottles of wine, decanters, +tumblers, and viands of various descriptions. Bits of artificial flowers +are strewn about the carpet, a shawl is seen thrown over one chair, a +mantle over another; the light is half shut off—everything bears +evidence of the gaieties of luxurious life, the sumptuous revel and the +debauch. The gilded mirrors reflect but two faces, both hectic and moody +of dissipation. George Mullholland and Mr. Snivel face each other, at a +pier-table. Before them are several half filled bottles, from one of +which Mr. Snivel fills George's glass.</p> + +<p>"There is something in this champaign (one only gets rubbish in these +houses) that compounds and elevates one's ideas," says Mr. Snivel, +holding his glass in the light, and squinting his blood-shotten eyes, +the lids of which he has scarce power to keep open. "Drink, +George—drink! You have had your day—why let such nonsense trouble +you? The whole city is in love with the girl. Her beauty makes her +capricious; if the old Judge has got her, let him keep her. Indeed, I'm +not so sure that she doesn't love him, and (well, I always laugh when I +think of it), it is a well laid down principle among us lawyers, that no +law stands good against love." Mr. Snivel's leaden eyelids close, and +his head drops upon his bosom. "She never can love him—never! His +wealth, and some false tale, has beguiled her. He is a hoary-headed +lecher, with wealth and position to aid him in his hellish pursuits; I +am poor, and an outcast! He has flattered me and showered his favors +upon me, only to affect my ruin. I will have—"</p> + +<p>"Pshaw! George," interrupts Mr. Snivel, brightening up, "be a +philosopher. Chivalry, you know—chivalry! A dashing fellow like you +should doff the kid to a knight of his metal: challenge him." Mr. Snivel +reaches over the table and pats his opponent on the arm. "These women, +George! Funny things, eh? Make any kind of love—have a sample for every +sort of gallant, and can make the quantity to suit the purchaser. 'Pon +my soul this is my opinion. I'm a lawyer, know pretty well how the sex +lay their points. As for these unfortunate devils, as we of the +profession call them (he pauses and empties his glass, saying, not bad +for a house of this kind), there are so many shades of them, life is +such a struggle with them; they dream of broken hopes, and they die +sighing to think how good a thing is virtue. You only love this girl +because she is beautiful, and beautiful women, at best, are the most +capricious things in the world. D—n it, you have gone through enough of +this kind of life to be accustomed to it. We think nothing of these +things, in Charleston—bless you, nothing! Keep the Judge your +friend—his position may give him a means to serve you. A man of the +world ought at all times to have the private friendship of as many +judges as he can."</p> + +<p>"Never! poor as I am—outcast as I feel myself! I want no such +friendship. Society may shun me, the community may fear me, necessity +may crush me—yea! you may regard me as a villain if you will, but, were +I a judge, I would scorn to use my office to serve base ends." As he +says this he draws a pistol from his pocket, and throwing it defiantly +upon the table, continues as his lip curls with scorn, "poor men's lives +are cheap in Charleston—let us see what rich men's are worth!"</p> + +<p>"His age, George!—you should respect that!" says Mr. Snivel, +laconically.</p> + +<p>"His age ought to be my protection."</p> + +<p>"Ah!—you forget that the follies of our nature too often go with us to +the grave."</p> + +<p>"And am I to suffer because public opinion honors him, and gives him +power to disgrace me? Can he rob me of the one I love—of the one in +whose welfare my whole soul is staked, and do it with impunity?"</p> + +<p>"D——d inconvenient, I know, George. Sympathize with you, I do. But, +you see, we are governed here by the laws of chivalry. Don't let your (I +am a piece of a philosopher, you see) temper get up, keep on a stiff +upper lip. You may catch him napping. I respect your feelings, my dear +fellow; ready to do you a bit of a good turn—you understand! Now let me +tell you, my boy, he has made her his adopted, and to-morrow she moves +with him to his quiet little villa near the Magnolia."</p> + +<p>"I am a poor, forlorn wretch," interrupts George, with a sigh. "Those +of whom I had a right to expect good counsel, and a helping hand, have +been first to encourage me in the ways of evil—"</p> + +<p>"Get money, Mullholland—get money. It takes money to make love strong. +Say what you will, a woman's heart is sure to be sound on the gold +question. Mark ye, Mullholland!—there is an easy way to get money. Do +you take? (His fingers wander over his forehead, as he watches intently +in George's face.) You can make names? Such things are done by men in +higher walks, you know. Quite a common affair in these parts. The Judge +has carried off your property; make a fair exchange—you can use his +name, get money with it, and make it hold fast the woman you love. There +are three things, George, you may set down as facts that will be of +service to you through life, and they are these: when a man eternally +rings in your ears the immoralities of the age, watch him closely; when +a man makes what he has done for others a boast, set him down a knave; +and when a woman dwells upon the excellent qualities of her many +admirers, set her down as wanting. But, get money, and when you have got +it, charm back this beautiful creature."</p> + +<p>Such is the advice of Mr. Soloman Snivel, the paid intriguer of the +venerable Judge.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h3>CHAPTER XXV.</h3> + +<p class='center' style='font-size:smaller'>A SLIGHT CHANGE IN THE PICTURE.</p> + + +<p>The two lone revellers remain at the pier-table, moody and hectic. Mr. +Snivel drops into a sound sleep, his head resting on the marble. +Weak-minded, jealous, contentious—with all the attendants natural to +one who leads an unsettled life, sits George Mullholland, his elbow +resting on the table, and his head poised thoughtfully in his hand. "I +will have revenge—sweet revenge; yes, I will have revenge to-night!" he +mutters, and sets his teeth firmly.</p> + +<p>In Anna's chamber all is hushed into stillness. The silvery moonbeams +play softly through the half-closed windows, lighting up and giving an +air of enchantment to the scene. Curtains hang, mist-like, from massive +cornices in gilt. Satin drapery, mysteriously underlaid with lace, and +floating in bewitching chasteness over a fairy-like bed, makes more +voluptuous that ravishing form calmly sleeping—half revealed among the +snowy sheets, and forming a picture before which fancy soars, passion +unbends itself, and sentiment is led away captive. With such exquisite +forms strange nature excites our love;—that love that like a little +stream meanders capriciously through our feelings, refreshing life, +purifying our thoughts, exciting our ambition, and modulating our +actions. That love, too, like a quicksand, too often proves a destroyer +to the weak-minded.</p> + +<p>Costly chairs, of various styles carved in black walnut, stand around +the chamber: lounges covered with chastely-designed tapestry are seen +half concealed by the gorgeous window curtains. The foot falls upon a +soft, Turkey carpet; the ceiling—in French white, and gilt +mouldings—is set off with two Cupids in a circle, frescoed by a skilled +hand. On a lounge, concealed in an alcove masked by curtains pending +from the hands of a fairy in bronze, and nearly opposite Anna's bed, the +old Judge sleeps in his judicial dignity. To-day he sentenced three +rogues to the whipping-post, and two wretched negroes—one for raising +his hand to a white man—to the gallows.</p> + +<p>Calmly Anna continues to sleep, the lights in the girandoles shedding a +mysterious paleness over the scene. To the eye that scans only the +exterior of life, how dazzling! Like a refulgent cloud swelling golden +in the evening sky, how soon it passes away into darkness and +disappointment! Suddenly there appears, like a vision in the chamber, +the stately figure of a female. Advancing slowly to the bed-side, for a +minute she stands contemplating the sleeping beauty before her. A dark, +languishing eye, an aquiline nose, beautifully-cut mouth, and a +finely-oval face, is revealed by the shadow in which she stands. "How +willingly," she mutters, raising the jewelled fingers of her right hand +to her lips, as her eyes become liquid with emotion, and her every +action betokens one whose very soul is goaded with remorse, "would I +exchange all these worldly pleasures for one single day in peace of +mind." She lays aside her mantle, and keeps her eyes fixed upon the +object before her. A finely-rounded shoulder and exactly-developed bust +is set off with a light satin bodice or corsage, cut low, opening +shawl-fashion at the breast, and relieved with a stomacher of fine +Brussels lace. Down the edges are rows of small, unpolished pearls, +running into points. A skirt of orange-colored brocade, trimmed with +tulle, and surrounded with three flounces, falls, cloud-like, from her +girdle, which is set with cameos and unpolished pearls. With her left +hand she raises slightly her skirts, revealing the embroidered gimps of +a white taffeta underskirt, flashing in the moonlight. Small, unpolished +pearls ornament the bands of her short sleeves; on her fingers are +rings, set with diamonds and costly emeralds; and her wrists are clasped +with bracelets of diamonds, shedding a modest lustre over her +marble-like arms.</p> + +<p>"Can this be my child? Has this crime that so like a demon haunts +me—that curses me even in my dreams, driven her, perhaps against her +will, to seek this life of shame?" She takes the sleeper's hand gently +in her own, as the tears gush down her cheeks.</p> + +<p>The sleeper startles, half raises herself from her pillow, parts her +black, silky hair, that lays upon her gently-swelling bosom, and throws +it carelessly down her shoulders, wildly setting her great black orbs on +the strange figure before her. "Hush, hush!" says the speaker, "I am a +friend. One who seeks you for a good purpose. Give me your +confidence—do not betray me! I need not tell you by what means I gained +access to you."</p> + +<p>A glow of sadness flashes across Anna's countenance. With a look of +suspicion she scans the mysterious figure from head to foot. "It is the +Judge's wife!" she says within herself. "Some one has betrayed me to +her; and, as is too often the case, she seeks revenge of the less guilty +party." But the figure before her is in full dress, and one seeking +revenge would have disguised herself. "Why, and who is it, that seeks me +in this mysterious manner?" whispers Anna, holding her delicate hand in +the shadow, over her eyes. "I seek you in the hope of finding something +to relieve my troubled spirit, I am a mother who has wronged her +child—I have no peace of mind—my heart is lacerated—"</p> + +<p>"Are you, then, my mother?" interrupts Anna, with a look of scorn.</p> + +<p>"That I would answer if I could. You have occupied my thoughts day and +night. I have traced your history up to a certain period. ("What I know +of my own, I would fain not contemplate," interrupts Anna.) Beyond that, +all is darkness. And yet there are circumstances that go far to prove +you the child I seek. Last night I dreamed I saw a gate leading to a +dungeon, that into the dungeon I was impelled against my will. While +there I was haunted with the figure of a woman of the name of Mag +Munday—a maniac, and in chains! My heart bled at the sight, for she, I +thought, was the woman in whose charge I left the child I seek. I +spoke—I asked her what had become of the child! She pointed with her +finger, told me to go seek you here, and vanished as I awoke. I spent +the day in unrest, went to the ball to-night, but found no pleasure in +its gay circle. Goaded in my conscience, I left the ball-room, and with +the aid of a confidant am here."</p> + +<p>"I recognize—yes, my lady, I recognize you! You think me your abandoned +child, and yet you are too much the slave of society to seek me as a +mother ought to do. I am the supposed victim of your crime; you are the +favored and flattered ornament of society. Our likenesses have been +compared many times:—I am glad we have met. Go, woman, go! I would not, +outcast as I am, deign to acknowledge the mother who could enjoy the +luxuries of life and see her child a wretch."</p> + +<p>"Woman! do not upbraid me. Spare, oh! spare my troubled heart this last +pang," (she grasps convulsively at Anna's hand, then shrinks back in +fright.) "Tell me! oh, tell me!" she pursues, the tears coursing down +her cheeks—</p> + +<p>Anna Bonard interrupts by saying, peremptorily, she has nothing to tell +one so guilty. To be thus rebuked by an abandoned woman, notwithstanding +she might be her own child, wounded her feelings deeply. It was like +poison drying up her very blood. Tormented with the thought of her +error, (for she evidently labored under the smart of an error in early +life,) her very existence now seemed a burden to her. Gloomy and +motionless she stood, as if hesitating how best to make her escape.</p> + +<p>"Woman! I will not betray your coming here. But you cannot give me back +my virtue; you cannot restore me untainted to the world—the world never +forgives a fallen woman. Her own sex will be first to lacerate her heart +with her shame." These words were spoken with such biting sarcasm, that +the Judge, whose nap the loudness of Anna's voice had disturbed, +protruded his flushed face and snowy locks from out the curtains of the +alcove. "The gay Madame Montford, as I am a Christian," he exclaims in +the eagerness of the moment, and the strange figure vanishes out of the +door.</p> + +<p>"A fashionable, but very mysterious sort of person," pursues the Judge, +confusedly. "Ah! ha,—her case, like many others, is the want of a clear +conscience. Snivel has it in hand. A great knave, but a capital lawyer, +that Snivel—"</p> + +<p>The Judge is interrupted in his remarks by the entrance of Mr. Snivel, +who, with hectic face, and flushed eyes, comes rushing into the chamber. +"Hollo!—old boy, there's a high bid on your head to-night. Ready to do +you a bit of a good turn, you see." Mr. Snivel runs his fingers through +his hair, and works his shoulders with an air of exultation. "If," he +continues, "that weak-minded fellow—that Mullholland we have shown some +respect to, hasn't got a pistol! He's been furbishing it up while in the +parlor, and swears he will seriously damage you with it. Blasted +assurance, those Northerners have. Won't fight, can't make 'em +gentlemen; and if you knock 'em down they don't understand enough of +chivalry to resent it. They shout to satisfy their fear and not to +maintain their honor. Keep an eye out!"</p> + +<p>The Judge, in a tone of cool indifference, says he has no fears of the +renegade, and will one of these days have the pleasure of sending him to +the whipping-post.</p> + +<p>"As to that, Judge," interposes Mr. Snivel, "I have already prepared the +preliminaries. I gave him the trifle you desired—to-morrow I will nail +him at the Keno crib." With this the Judge and the Justice each take an +affectionate leave of the frail girl, and, as it is now past one o'clock +in the morning, an hour much profaned in Charleston, take their +departure.</p> + +<p>Armed with a revolver Mullholland has taken up his position in the +street, where he awaits the coming of his adversaries. In doubt and +anxiety, he reflects and re-reflects, recurs to the associations of his +past life, and hesitates. Such reflections only bring more vividly to +his mind the wrong he feels himself the victim of, and has no power to +resent except with violence. His contemplations only nerve him to +revenge.</p> + +<p>A click, and the door cautiously opens, as if some votary of crime was +about to issue forth in quest of booty. The hostess' head protrudes +suddenly from the door, she scans first up and then down the street, +then withdraws it. The Judge and Mr. Snivel, each in turn, shake the +landlady by the hand, and emerge into the street. They have scarce +stepped upon the sidepath when the report of a pistol resounds through +the air. The ball struck a lamp-post, glanced, passed through the collar +of Judge Sleepyhorn's coat, and brushed Mr. Snivel's fashionable +whiskers. Madame Ashley, successor to Madame Flamingo, shrieks and +alarms the house, which is suddenly thrown into a state of confusion. +Acting upon the maxim of discretion being the better part of valor, the +Judge and the Justice beat a hasty retreat into the house, and secrete +themselves in a closet at the further end of the back-parlor.</p> + +<p>As if suddenly moved by some strange impulse, Madame Ashley runs from +room to room, screaming at the very top of her voice, and declaring that +she saw the assassin enter her house. Females rush from their rooms and +into the great parlor, where they form groups of living statuary, +strange and grotesque. Anxious faces—faces half painted, faces hectic +of dissipation, faces waning and sallow, eyes glassy and lascivious, +dishevelled hair floating over naked shoulders;—the flashing of +bewitching drapery, the waving and flitting of embroidered underskirts, +the tripping of pretty feet and prettier ankles, the gesticulating and +swaying of half-draped bodies—such is the scene occasioned by the bench +and the bar.</p> + +<p>Madame Ashley, having inherited of Madame Flamingo the value of a +scrupulous regard for the good reputation of her house, must needs call +in the watch to eject the assassin, whom she swears is concealed +somewhere on the premises. Mr. Sergeant Stubbs, a much respected +detective, and reputed one of the very best officers of the guard, +inasmuch as he never troubles his head about other people's business, +and is quite content to let every one fight their own battles,—provided +they give him a "nip" of whiskey when they are through, lights his +lantern and goes bobbing into every room in the house. We must here +inform the reader that the cause of the <i>emeute</i> was kept a profound +secret between the judicial gentry. Madame Ashley, at the same time, is +fully convinced the ball was intended for her, while Anna lays in a +terrible fright in her chamber.</p> + +<p>"Ho," says Mr. Stubbs, starting back suddenly as he opened the door of +the closet in which the two gentlemen had concealed themselves. "I see! +I see!—beg your pardon, gentlemen!" Mr. Stubbs whispers, and bows, and +shuts the door quickly.</p> + +<p>"An infernal affair this, Judge! D—n me if I wouldn't as soon be in the +dock. It will all get out to-morrow," interposes Mr. Snivel, +facetiously.</p> + +<p>"Blast these improper associations!" the high functionary exclaims, +fussily shrugging his shoulders, and wiping the sweat from his forehead. +"I love the girl, though, I confess it!"</p> + +<p>"Nothing more natural. A man without gallantry is like a pilgrim in the +South-West Pass. You can't resist this charming creature. In truth it's +a sort of longing weakness, which even the scales of justice fail to +bring to a balance."</p> + +<p>Mr. Stubbs fails to find the assassin, and enters Madame Ashley's +chamber, the door of which leads into the hall. Here Mr. Stubbs's quick +eye suddenly discerns a slight motion of the curtains that enclose the +great, square bed, standing in one corner. "I ax your pardon, Mam, but +may I look in this 'ere bed?" Mr. Stubbs points to the bed, as Madame, +having thrown herself into a great rocking chair, proceeds to sway her +dignity backward and forward, and give out signs of making up her mind +to faint.</p> + +<p>Mr. Stubbs draws back the curtains, when, behold! but tell it not in the +by-ways, there is revealed the stalworth figure of Simon Patterson, the +plantation parson. Our plantation parsons, be it known, are a singular +species of depraved humanity, a sort of itinerant sermon-makers, holding +forth here and there to the negroes of the rich planters, receiving a +paltry pittance in return, and having in lieu of morals an excellent +taste for whiskey, an article they invariably call to their aid when +discoursing to the ignorant slave—telling him how content with his lot +he ought to be, seeing that God intended him only for ignorance and +servitude. The parson did, indeed, cut a sorry figure before the gaze of +this indescribable group, as it rushed into the room and commenced +heaping upon his head epithets delicacy forbids our inserting +here—calling him a clerical old lecher, an assassin, and a disturber of +the peace and respectability of the house. Indeed, Madame Ashley quite +forgot to faint, and with a display of courage amounting almost to +heroism, rushed at the poor parson, and had left him in the state he was +born but for the timely precautions of Mr. Stubbs, who, finding a +revolver in his possession, and wanting no better proof of his guilt, +straightway took him off to the guard-house. Parson Patterson would have +entered the most solemn and pious protestation of his innocence but the +evidence was so strong against him, and the zeal of Mr. Sergeant Stubbs +so apparent, that he held it the better policy to quietly submit to the +rough fare of his new lodgings.</p> + +<p>"I have a terror of these brawls!" says Mr. Snivel, emerging from his +hiding-place, and entering the chamber, followed by the high legal +functionary.</p> + +<p>"A pretty how-do-ye-do, this is;" returns Madame Ashley, cooling her +passion in the rocking-chair, "I never had much respect for parsons—"</p> + +<p>"Parsons?" interrupts Mr. Snivel, inquiringly, "you don't mean to say it +was all the doings of a parson?"</p> + +<p>"As I'm a lady it was no one else. He was discovered behind the curtain +there, a terrible pistol in his pocket—the wretch!"</p> + +<p>Mr. Snivel exchanges a wink with the Judge, points his thumb over his +left shoulder, and says, captiously: "I always had an implacable hatred +of that old thief. A bad lot! these plantation parsons."</p> + +<p>Mr. Stubbs having discovered and removed the assassin, the terrified +damsels return to their chambers, and Madame Ashley proceeds to close +her house, as the two legal gentlemen take their departure. Perhaps it +would be well to inform the reader that a principal cause of Anna's +preference for the Judge, so recently manifested, was the deep +impression made on her already suspicious mind by Mr. McArthur, the +antiquary, who revealed to her sincerely, as she thought, her future +dark destiny.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h3>CHAPTER XXVI.</h3> + +<p class='center' style='font-size:smaller'>IN WHICH A HIGH FUNCTIONARY IS MADE TO PLAY A SINGULAR PART.</p> + + +<p>The morning following the events detailed in the foregoing chapter, +finds the august Sleepyhorn seated on his judgment-seat. The clock +strikes ten as he casts his heavy eyes over the grotesque group gathered +into his little, dingy court-room; and he bows to his clerk, of whom he +gets his law knowledge, and with his right hand makes a sign that he is +ready to admonish the erring, or pass sentence on any amount of +criminals. History affords no record of a judge so unrelenting of his +judgments.</p> + +<p>A few dilapidated gentlemen of the "<i>learned</i> profession," with sharp +features and anxious faces, fuss about among the crowd, reeking of +whiskey and tobacco. Now they whisper suspiciously in the ears of +forlorn prisoners, now they struggle to get a market for their legal +nostrums. A few, more respectably clothed and less vicious of aspect, +sit writing at a table inside the bar, while a dozen or more punch-faced +policemen, affecting an air of superiority, drag themselves lazily +through the crowd of seedy humanity, looking querulously over the +railing encircling the dock, or exchanging recognitions with friends.</p> + +<p>Some twenty "negro cases" having been disposed of without much respect +to law, and being sent up for punishment (the Judge finds it more +convenient to forego testimony in these cases), a daughter of the +Emerald Isle, standing nearly six feet in her bare soles, and much +shattered about the dress, is, against her inclination, arraigned before +his Honor. "I think I have seen you before, Mrs. Donahue?" says the +Judge, inquiringly.</p> + +<p>"Arrah, good-morning, yer 'onher! Shure, it's only the sixth time these +three weeks. Doesn't meself like to see yer smiling face, onyhow!" Here +Mrs. Donahue commences complimenting the Judge in one breath, and laying +no end of charges at the door of the very diminutive and harmless Mister +Donahue in the next.</p> + +<p>"This being the sixth time," returns his Honor, somewhat seriously, "I +would advise you to compromise the matter with Donahue, and not be seen +here again. The state of South Carolina cannot pay your fees so often—"</p> + +<p>"Och, bad luck to Donahue! Troth, an' if yer onher'd put the fees down +to Donahue, our acquaintance 'ouldn't be so fraquent." Mrs. Donahue says +this with great unction, throwing her uncombed hair back, then daintily +raising her dress apace, and inquiring of Mr. Sheriff Hardscrabble, who +sits on his Honor's left, peering sharply through his spectacles, how he +likes the spread of her broad, flat foot; "the charging the fees to +Donahue, yer onher, 'd do it!" There was more truth in this remark than +his Honor seemed to comprehend, for having heard the charge against her +(Mr. Donahue having been caught in the act of taking a drop of her gin, +she had well-nigh broken his head with the bottle), and having listened +attentively while poor Donahue related his wrongs, and exhibited two +very well blacked eyes and a broken nose, he came to the very just +conclusion that it were well to save the blood of the Donahues. And to +this end did he grant Mrs. Donahue board and lodging for one month in +the old prison. Mrs. Donahue is led away, heaping curses on the head of +Donahue, and compliments on that of his Honor.</p> + +<p>A pale, sickly looking boy, some eleven years old, is next placed upon +the stand. Mr. Sergeant Stubbs, who leans his corpulent figure against +the clerk's desk, every few minutes bowing his sleepy head to some +friend in the crowd, says: "A hard 'un—don't do no good about here. A +vagrant; found him sleeping in the market."</p> + +<p>His Honor looks at the poor boy for some minutes, a smile of kindliness +seems lighting up his face; he says he would there were some place of +refuge—a place where reformation rather than punishment might be the +aim and end, where such poor creatures could be sent to, instead of +confining them in cells occupied by depraved prisoners.</p> + +<p>Mr. Sheriff Hardscrabble, always eager to get every one into jail he +can, inasmuch as it pays him twenty-two cents a day clear profit on each +and every person confined, says: "A hard customer. Found sleeping in the +market, eh? Well, we must merge him in a tub of water, and scrub him up +a little." Mr. Hardscrabble views him with an air of satisfaction, +touches him with a small cane he holds in his hand, as if he were +something very common. Indeed, Mr. Hardscrabble seems quite at a loss to +know what species of animal he is, or whether he be really intended for +any other use than filling up his cells and returning him twenty-two +cents a day clear profit. "Probably an incendiary," mutters the +sagacious sheriff. The helpless boy would explain how he came to sleep +in the market—how he, a poor cabin-boy, walked, foot-sore and hungry, +from Wilmington, in the hope of getting a ship; and being moneyless and +friendless he laid down in the market to sleep. Mr. Hardscrabble, +however, suggests that such stories are extremely common. His Honor +thinks it not worth while to differ from this opinion, but to the end +that no great legal wisdom may be thrown away, he orders the accused to +be sent to the common jail for three months. This, in the opinion of +Judge Sleepyhorn, is an extremely mild penalty for being found sleeping +in the market.</p> + +<p>Next there comes forward a lean, up-country Cracker, (an half-civilized +native,) who commences telling his story with commendable simplicity, +the Judge in the meanwhile endeavoring to suppress a smile, which the +quaintness of his remarks excite. Making a tenement of his cart, as is +usual with these people when they visit the city, which they do now and +then for the purpose of replenishing their stock of whiskey, he had, +about eleven o'clock on the previous night, been set upon by three +intoxicated students, who, having driven off his mule, overturned his +cart, landing him and his wife prostrate in the ditch. A great noise was +the result, and the guard, with their accustomed zeal for seizing upon +the innocent party, dragged up the weaker (the Cracker and his wife) and +let the guilty go free. He had brought the good wife, he added, as a +living evidence of the truth of what he said, and would bring the mule +if his honor was not satisfied. The good wife commences a volley of what +she is pleased to call voluntary testimony, praising and defending all +the good qualities of her much-abused husband, without permitting any +one else an opposing word. No sufficient charge being brought against +the Cracker (he wisely slipped a five dollar bill into the hands of +Stubbs), he joins his good wife and goes on his way rejoicing.</p> + +<p>During this little episode between the court and the Cracker's wife, +Madame Grace Ashley, arrayed in her most fashionable toilet, comes +blazing into Court, bows to the Judge and a few of her most select +friends of the Bar. A seat for Madame is provided near his Honor's desk. +His Honor's blushes seem somewhat overtaxed; Madame, on the other hand, +is not at all disconcerted; indeed, she claims an extensive acquaintance +with the most distinguished of the Bar.</p> + +<p>The Judge suggests to Mr. Stubbs that it would be as well to waive the +charge against the clergyman. Somewhat the worse for his night in the +guard-house, Parson Patterson comes forward and commences in the most +unintelligible manner to explain the whole affair, when the Judge very +blandly interrupts by inquiring if he is a member of the clergy at this +moment. "Welle," returns the parson, with characteristic drawl, "can't +zactly say I am." The natural seediness of the parson excites suspicion, +nevertheless he is scrupulous of his white cravat, and preserves withal +a strictly clerical aspect. Having paused a few moments and exchanged +glances with the Judge, he continues: "I do nigger preaching on +Sunday—that is (Parson Patterson corrects himself), I hold forth, here +and there—we are all flesh and blood—on plantations when I have a +demand for my services. Our large planters hold it good policy to +encourage the piety of their property."</p> + +<p>"You make a good thing of it?" inquires the Judge, jocosely. The parson +replies, with much meekness of manner, that business is not so good as +it was, planters having got it into their heads that sermons can be got +at a very low figure. Here he commences to explain his singular +position. He happened to meet an old and much-esteemed friend, whom he +accompanied home, and while spending the evening conversing on +spiritual matters—it was best not to lie—he took a little too much. On +his way to the hotel he selected Beresford street as a short cut, and +being near the house where he was unfortunately found when the shooting +took place, he ran into it to escape the police—</p> + +<p>"Don't believe a word he says," interrupts Madame Ashley, springing +suddenly to her feet, and commencing to pour out her phials of wrath on +the head of the poor parson, whom she accuses of being a suspicious and +extremely unprofitable frequenter of her house, which she describes as +exceedingly respectable. "Your Honor can bear me out in what I say!" +pursues Madame, bowing with an air of exultation, as the sheriff demands +order.</p> + +<p>"A sorry lot, these plantation preachers! Punish him right soundly, your +honor. It is not the first time he has damaged the respectability of my +house!" again interrupts Madame Ashley. His Honor replies only with a +blush. Mr. Snivel, who watches with quisical countenance, over the bar, +enjoys the joke wonderfully.</p> + +<p>Order being restored, the Judge turns to address the parson.</p> + +<p>"I see, my friend—I always address my prisoners familiarly—you place +but little value on the fact of your being a clergyman, on the ground +that you only preach to slaves. This charge brought against you is a +grave one—I assure you! And I cannot incline to the view you take of +your profession. I may not be as erudite as some; however, I hold it +that the ignorant and not the learned have most need of good example."</p> + +<p>"Aye! I always told the old reprobate so," interposes Madam Ashley, with +great fervor.</p> + +<p>"A charge," resumes the Judge, "quite sufficient to warrant me in +committing you to durance vile, might be preferred. You may thank my +generosity that it is not. These houses, as you know, Mr. Patterson, are +not only dangerous, but damaging to men of potent morality like you."</p> + +<p>"But, your Honor knows, they are much frequented," meekly drawls the +parson.</p> + +<p>"It affords no palliation," sharply responds the Judge, his face +crimsoning with blushes. "Mark ye, my friend of the clergy, these places +make sad destruction of our young men. Indeed I may say with becoming +sincerity and truth, that they spread a poison over the community, and +act as the great enemy of our social system."</p> + +<p>"Heigh ho!" ejaculates Madame Ashley, to the great delight of the throng +assembled, "Satan has come to rebuke sin." Madame bids his Honor a very +polite good morning, and takes her departure, looking disdainfully over +her shoulder as she disappears out of the door.</p> + +<p>Not a little disturbed in his equanimity, the Judge pursues his charge. +"The clergy ought to keep their garments clear of such places, for being +the source of all evil, the effect on the community is not good—I mean +when such things are brought to light! I would address you frankly and +admonish you to go no more into such places. Let your ways merit the +approbation of those to whom you preach the Gospel. You can go. +Henceforth, live after the ways of the virtuous."</p> + +<p>Parson Patterson thanks his Honor, begs to assure him of his innocence, +and seems only too anxious to get away. His Honor bows to Mr. Patterson, +Mr. Patterson returns it, and adds another for the audience, whereupon +the court adjourns, and so ends the episode. His Honor takes Mr. +Snivel's arm, and together they proceed to the "most convenient" saloon, +where, over a well-compounded punch, "the bench and the bar" compliment +each other on the happy disposal of such vexatious cases.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h3>CHAPTER XXVII.</h3> + +<p class='center' style='font-size:smaller;' >THE HOUSE OF THE NINE NATIONS, AND WHAT MAY BE SEEN IN IT.</p> + + +<p>On the corner of Anthony street and the Points,<a name="FNanchor_4_4" id="FNanchor_4_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a> in New-York, there +stands, like a grim savage, the house of the Nine Nations, a dingy +wooden tenement, that for twenty years has threatened to tumble away +from its more upright neighbor, and before which the stranger wayfarer +is seen to stop and contemplate. In a neighborhood redolent of crime, +there it stands, its vices thick upon its head, exciting in the mind of +the observer its association with some dark and terrible deed. On the +one side, opens that area of misery, mud and sombre walls, called "Cow +Bay;" on the other a triangular plot, reeking with the garbage of the +miserable cellars that flank it, and in which swarms of wasting beings +seek a hiding-place, inhale pestilential air, and die. Gutters running +with seething matter; homeless outcasts sitting, besotted, on crazy +doorsteps; the vicious, with savage visage, and keen, watchful eye, +loitering at the doors of filthy "groceries;" the sickly and neglected +child crawling upon the side-pave, or seeking a crust to appease its +hunger—all are found here, gasping, in rags, a breath of air by day, or +seeking a shelter, at night, in dens so abject that the world can +furnish no counterpart. And this forlorn picture of dilapidated houses, +half-clad, squabbish women, blistered-faced men, and sickly children, +the house of the Nine Nations overlooks. And yet this house, to the +disgrace of an opulent people be it said, is but the sample of an +hundred others standing in the same neighborhood.</p> + +<p>With its basement-doors opening into its bottomless pit; with its +continual outgoing and ingoing of sooty and cruel-visaged denizens; with +its rickety old steps leading to the second story; with its battered +windows, begrimed walls, demolished shutters, clapboards hanging at +sixes and sevens—with its suspicious aspect;—there it stands, with its +distained sign over the doors of its bottomless pit. You may read on +this sign, that a gentleman from Ireland, who for convenience' sake we +will call Mr. Krone, is licensed to sell imported and other liquors.</p> + +<p>Indeed the house of the Nine Nations would seem to say within itself: "I +am mother of this banquet of death you behold with your eyes." There it +stands, its stream of poison hurrying its victims to the grave; its +little dark passages leading to curious hiding-places; its caving roof, +and its ominous-looking back platform, overlooking the dead walls of +Murderers' Yard. How it mocks your philanthropy, your regal edifices, +your boasted charities—your gorgeous churches! Everybody but the +corporation knows the house of the Nine Nations, a haunt for wasted +prostitutes, assassins, burglars, thieves—every grade of criminals +known to depraved nature. The corporation would seem either to have a +charming sympathy for it, or to look upon it with that good-natured +indifference so happily illustrated while eating its oysters and +drinking its whiskey. An empty-headed corporation is sure always to +have its hands very full, which is the case with yours at this moment. +Having the people's money to waste, its own ambition to serve, and its +hat to fill with political waste paper—what more would you ask of it?</p> + +<p>The man of the house of the Nine Nations, you ought to know, makes +criminals by the hundred, deluges your alms houses with paupers, and +makes your Potters' field reek with his victims: for this he is become +rich. Mr. Krone is an intimate friend of more than one Councilman, and a +man of much measure in the political world—that is, Mr. Krone is a +politician-maker. When you say there exists too close an intimacy +between the pugilist and the politician, Mr. Krone will bet twenty +drinks with any one of his customers that he can prove such doctrines at +fault. He can secure the election of his favorite candidate with the +same facility that he can make an hundred paupers per week. You may well +believe him a choice flower in the bouquet of the corporation; we mean +the corporation that banquets and becomes jubilant while assassins stab +their victims in the broad street—that becomes befogged while bands of +ruffians disgrace the city with their fiendish outrages—that makes +presidents and drinks whiskey when the city would seem given over to the +swell-mobsman—when no security is offered to life, and wholesale +harlotry, flaunting with naked arms and bared bosoms, passes along in +possession of Broadway by night.</p> + +<p>It is the night succeeding the day Lady Swiggs discovered, at the house +of the Foreign Missions, the loss of her cherished donations. As this is +a world of disappointments, Lady Swiggs resigns herself to this most +galling of all, and with her Milton firmly grasped in her hand, may be +seen in a little room at Sister Scudder's, rocking herself in the +arm-chair, and wondering if Brother Spyke has captured the +robber-wretch. A chilly wind howls, and a drizzling rain falls thick +over the dingy dwellings of the Points, which, sullen and dark, seem in +a dripping mood. A glimmering light, here and there, throws curious +shadows over the liquid streets. Now the drenched form of some +half-naked and homeless being is reflected, standing shivering in the +entrance to some dark and narrow alley; then the half-crazed inebriate +hurries into the open door of a dismal cellar, or seeks eagerly a +shelter for his bewildered head, in some suspicious den. Flashing +through the shadow of the police lamp, in "Cow Bay," a forlorn female is +seen, a bottle held tightly under her shawl. Sailing as it were into the +bottomless pit of the house of the Nine Nations, then suddenly returning +with the drug, seeking the cheerless garret of her dissolute partner, +and there striving to blunt her feelings against the horrors of +starvation.</p> + +<p>Two men stand, an umbrella over their heads, at the corner, in the glare +of the bottomless pit, which is in a blaze of light, and crowded with +savage-faced figures, of various ages and colors,—all habited in the +poison-seller's uniform of rags. "I don't think you'll find him here, +sir," says one, addressing the other, who is tall and slender of person, +and singularly timid. "God knows I am a stranger here. To-morrow I leave +for Antioch," is the reply, delivered in nervous accents. The one is +Brother Syngleton Spyke, the other Mr. Detective Fitzgerald, a man of +more than middle stature, with compact figure, firmly-knit limbs, and an +expression of countenance rather pleasant.</p> + +<p>"You see, sir, this Toddleworth is a harmless creature, always aims to +be obliging and civil. I don't, sir—I really don't think he'll steal. +But one can't tell what a man will do who is driven to such straits as +the poor devils here are. We rather like Toddleworth at the station, +look upon him as rather wanting in the head, and for that reason rather +incline to favor him. I may say we now and then let him 'tie up' all +night in the station. And for this he seems very thankful. I may say," +continues Mr. Fitzgerald, touching the visor of his cap, "that he always +repays with kindness any little attention we may extend to him at the +station, and at times seems too anxious to make it his home. We give him +a shirt and a few shillings now and then; and when we want to be rid of +him we begin to talk about fashionable wives. He is sure to go then. +Can't stand such a topic, I assure you, sir, and is sure to go off in a +huff when Sergeant Pottle starts it."</p> + +<p>They enter the great door of the bottomless pit; the young missionary +hesitates. His countenance changes, his eyes scan steadily over the +scene. A room some sixty feet by twenty opens to his astonished eyes. +Its black, boarded walls, and bare beams, are enlivened here and there +with extravagant pictures of notorious pugilists, show-bills, and +illustrated advertisements of lascivious books, in which the murder of +an unfortunate woman is the principal feature. Slippery mud covers the +floor. Mr. Krone sits on an empty whiskey-barrel, his stunted features +betraying the hardened avarice of his character. He smokes his black +pipe, folds his arms deliberately, discoursing of the affairs of the +nation to two stupefied negroes and one blear-eyed son of the Emerald +Isle. Three uncouth females, with hair hanging matted over their faces, +and their features hidden in distortion, stand cooling their bared limbs +at a running faucet just inside the door, to the left. A group of +half-naked negroes lie insensible on the floor, to the right. A little +further on two prostrate females, shivering, and reeking of gin, sleep +undisturbed by the profanity that is making the very air resound. "The +gin gets a-many of us," is the mournful cry of many a wasting inebriate. +Mr. Krone, however, will tell you he has no sympathy with such cries. +You arraign, and perhaps punish, the apothecary who sells by mistake his +deadly drug. With a philosophical air, Mr. Krone will tell you he deals +out his poison without scruple, fills alms-houses without a pang of +remorse, and proves that a politician-maker may do much to degrade +society and remain in high favor with his friends of the bench of +justice. On one side of the dungeon-like place stands a rickety old +counter, behind which three savage-faced men stand, filling and serving +incessant potions of deleterious liquor to the miserable beings, haggard +and ragged, crowding to be first served. Behind the bar, or counter, +rises a pyramid of dingy shelves, on which are arranged little painted +kegs, labelled, and made bright by the glaring gas-light reflected upon +them. On the opposite side, on rows of slab benches, sit a group of +motley beings,—the young girl and the old man, the negro and the frail +white,—half sleeping, half conscious; all imbibing the stifling +draught.</p> + +<p>Like revelling witches in rags, and seen through the bedimmed atmosphere +at the further end of the den, are half-frantic men, women, and girls, +now sitting at deal tables, playing for drinks, now jostling, jeering, +and profaning in wild disorder. A girl of sixteen, wasted and deformed +with dissipation, approaches Brother Spyke, extends her blanched hand, +and importunes him for gin. He shudders, and shrinks from her touch, as +from a reptile. A look of scorn, and she turns from him, and is lost +among the grotesque crowd in the distance.</p> + +<p>"This gin," says Mr. Fitzgerald, turning methodically to Brother Spyke, +"they make do for food and clothing. We used to call this the devil's +paradise. As to Krone, we used to call him the devil's bar-tender. These +ragged revellers, you see, beg and steal during the day, and get gin +with it at night. Krone thinks nothing of it! Lord bless your soul, sir! +why, this man is reckoned a tip-top politician; on an emergency he can +turn up such a lot of votes!" Mr. Fitzgerald, approaching Mr. Krone, +says "you're a pretty fellow. Keeping such a place as this!" The +detective playfully strikes the hat of the other, crowding it over his +eyes, and inquiring if he has seen Tom Toddleworth during the day. Mr. +Toddleworth was not seen during the day. No one in the bottomless pit +knows where he may be found. A dozen husky voices are heard to say, he +has no home—stores himself away anywhere, and may be found everywhere.</p> + +<p>Brother Spyke bows, and sighs. Mr. Fitzgerald says: "he is always +harmless—this Toddleworth." As the two searchers are about to withdraw, +the shrunken figure of a woman rushes wildly into the pit. "Devils! +devils!—hideous devils of darkness! here you are—still +hover—hover—hovering; turning midnight into revelling, day into horrid +dreaming!" she shrieks at the top of her voice. Now she pauses suddenly, +and with a demoniacal laugh sets her dull, glassy eyes on Mr. Krone, +then walks round him with clenched fists and threatening gestures. The +politician-maker sits unmoved. Now she throws her hair about her bare +breasts, turns her eyes upward, imploringly, and approaches Brother +Spyke, with hand extended. Her tale of sorrow and suffering is written +in her very look. "She won't hurt you—never harms anybody;" says Mr. +Fitzgerald, methodically, observing Brother Spyke's timidity.</p> + +<p>"No, no, no," she mutters incoherently, "you are not of this place—you +know, like the rich world up-town, little of these revelling devils. +Cling! yes, cling to the wise one—tell him to keep you from this, and +forever be your teacher. Tell him! tell him! oh! tell him!" She wrings +her hands, and having sailed as it were into the further end of the pit, +vaults back, and commences a series of wild gyrations round Mr. Krone.</p> + +<p>"Poor wretch!" says Brother Spyke, complacently, "the gin has dried up +her senses—made her what she is."</p> + +<p>"Maniac Munday! Maniac Munday!" suddenly echoes and re-echoes through +the pit. She turns her ear, and with a listless countenance listens +attentively, then breaks out into an hysterical laugh. "Yes! ye +loathsome denizens. Like me, no one seeks you, no one cares for you. I +am poor, poor maniac Munday. The maniac that one fell error brought to +this awful end." Again she lowers her voice, flings her hair back over +her shoulders, and gives vent to her tears. Like one burdened with +sorrow she commences humming an air, that even in this dark den floats +sweetly through the polluted atmosphere. "Well, I am what I am," she +sighs, having paused in her tune. "That one fatal step—that plighted +faith! How bitter to look back." Her bony fingers wander to her lips, +which she commences biting and fretting, as her countenance becomes pale +and corpse-like. Again her reason takes its flight. She staggers to the +drenched counter, holds forth her bottle, lays her last sixpence +tauntingly upon the board, and watches with glassy eyes the drawing of +the poisonous drug. Meanwhile Mr. Krone, with an imprecation, declares +he has power to elect his candidate to the Senate. The man behind the +counter—the man of savage face, has filled the maniac's bottle, which +he pushes toward her with one hand, as with the other he sweeps her coin +into a drawer. "Oh! save poor maniac Munday—save poor maniac Munday!" +the woman cries, like one in despair, clutching the bottle, and reels +out of the pit.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h3>CHAPTER XXVIII.</h3> + +<p class='center' style='font-size:smaller;'>IN WHICH IS PRESENTED ANOTHER PICTURE OF THE HOUSE OF THE NINE NATIONS.</p> + + +<p>Pale and hesitating, Brother Spyke says: "I have no passion for delving +into such places; and having seen enough for one night, am content to +leave the search for this vile old man to you." The valiant missionary +addresses Mr. Fitzgerald, who stands with one foot upon the rickety old +steps that lead to the second story of the House of the Nine Nations.</p> + +<p>This morning, Brother Spyke was ready to do battle with the whole +heathen world, to drag it up into light, to evangelize it. Now he quails +before this heathen world, so terribly dark, at his own door.</p> + +<p>"You have, sir," says the detective, "seen nuthin' as yet. The sights +are in these 'ere upper dens; but, I may say it, a body wants nerve. +Some of our Aldermen say ye can't see such sights nowhere else."</p> + +<p>The missionary replies, holding tenaciously to his umbrella, "That may +be true; but I fear they will be waiting me at home." Again he scans +inquiringly into the drenched area of the Points; then bidding the +officer good-night, is soon out of sight, on his way into Centre Street. +Reaching the old stoop, the detective touches a spring, and the +shattered door opens into a narrow, gloomy passage, along which he +gropes his way, over a floor cobbled with filth, and against an +atmosphere thick of disease. Now a faint light flashes through a crevice +in the left wall, plays fantastically upon the black surface of the +opposite, then dies away. The detective lights his lantern, stands a +moment with his ear turned, as if listening to the revelry in the +bottomless pit. A door opens to his touch, he enters a cave-like +room—it is the one from out which the light stole so curiously, and in +which all is misery and sadness. A few embers still burn in a great +brick fireplace, shedding a lurid glow over the damp, filthy walls, the +discolored ceiling, and the grotesque group upon the floor. "You needn't +come at this time of night—we are all honest people;" speaks a massive +negro, of savage visage, who (he is clothed in rags) sits at the left +side of the fireplace. He coaxes the remnant of his fire to cook some +coarse food he has placed in a small, black stew-pan, he watches with +steady gaze. Three white females (we blush to say it), their bare, +brawny arms resting on their knees, and their disfigured faces drooped +into their hands, form an half circle on the opposite side.</p> + +<p>"The world don't think nothin' of us down here—we haven't had a bite to +eat to-night," gruffly resumes the negro.</p> + +<p>"May them that have riches enjoy them, for to be supperless is no +uncommon thing wid us," interrupts one of the women, gathering about her +the shreds of her tattered garment, parting the matted hair over her +face, and revealing her ghastly features. The detective turns his light +full upon her. "If we live we live, if we die we die—nobody cares! Look +you yonder, Mr. Fitzgerald," continues the negro, with a sarcastic leer. +Turning his light to where the negro points, the detective casts a +glance into the shadow, and there discovers the rags move. A dozen pair +of glassy eyes are seen peering from out the filthy coverings, over +which lean arms and blanched hands keep up an incessant motion. Here an +emaciated and heart-sick Welsh girl, of thirteen (enciente) lays +shivering on the broken floor; there an half-famished Scotch woman, two +moaning children nestling at her heart, suffers uncovered upon a pallet +of straw. The busy world without would seem not to have a care for her; +the clergy have got the heathen world upon their shoulders. Hunger, like +a grim tyrant, has driven her to seek shelter in this wretched abode. +Despair has made her but too anxious that the grave or prison walls +should close the record of her sorrows. How tightly she with her right +hand presses her babe to her bosom; how appealingly with her left she +asks a pittance of the detective! Will he not save from death her +starving child? He has nothing to give her, turns his head, answers only +with a look of pity, and moves slowly towards the door.</p> + +<p>"You have not been long off the Island, Washington?" inquires the +detective, with an air of familiarity.</p> + +<p>"I wish," replies the negro, sullenly, "I was back. An honest man as I +is, can't get on in this world. Necessity makes rascals of better men +than me, Mr. Fitzgerald. Mr. Krone (he's a white man, though) makes all +the politicians for the district, and charges me eight dollars a month +for this hole. Just measure them two things together, Mr. Fitzgerald; +then see if takin' in sixpenny, lodgers pays." Mr. Fitzgerald commences +counting them. "You needn't count," pursues the negro, uncovering his +stew-pan, "there's only eighteen in to-night. Have twenty, sometimes! +Don't get nothin' for that poor Scotch woman an' her children. Can't +get it when they hain't got it—you know that, Mr. Fitzgerald."</p> + +<p>The detective inquires if any of them have seen Mr. Toddleworth to-day. +Washington has not seen him, and makes no scruple of saying he thinks +very little of him.</p> + +<p>"Faith an' it's hard times with poor Tom," speaks up one of the women, +in a deep brogue. "It was only last night—the same I'm tellin' is true, +God knows—Mrs. McCarty took him to the Rookery—the divil a mouthful +he'd ate durin' the day—and says, bein' a ginerous sort of body, come, +take a drop, an' a bite to ate. Mister Toddleworth did that same, and +thin lay the night on the floor. To-night—it's the truth, God +knows—Tom Downey took him above. An' it's Tom who woundn't be the frind +of the man who hadn't a shillin' in his pocket."</p> + +<p>The detective shrugs his shoulders, and having thanked the woman, +withdraws into the passage, to the end of which he cautiously picks his +way, and knocks at a distained door that fronts him. A voice deep and +husky bids him enter, which he does, as the lurid glare of his lantern +reveals a room some twelve by sixteen feet, the plaster hanging in +festoons from the black walls, and so low of ceiling that he scarce can +stand upright. Four bunk-beds, a little bureau, a broken chair or two, +and a few cheap pictures, hung here and there on the sombre walls, give +it an air of comfort in grateful contrast with the room just left. "Who +lives here?" inquires the detective, turning his light full upon each +object that attracts his attention. "Shure it's only me—Mrs. Terence +Murphy—and my three sisters (the youngest is scarce fourteen), and the +two English sisters: all honest people, God knows," replies Mrs. Murphy, +with a rapid tongue.</p> + +<p>"It's not right of you to live this way," returns the detective, +continuing to survey the prostrate forms of Mrs. Murphy, her three +sisters, and the two fair-haired English girls, and the besotted beings +they claim as husbands. Alarm is pictured in every countenance. A +browned face withdraws under a dingy coverlid, an anxious face peers +from out a pallet on the floor, a prostrate figure in the corner +inquires the object of Mr. Detective Fitzgerald's visit—and Mrs. +Murphy, holding it more becoming of respectable society, leaves the bed +in which she had accommodated five others, and gets into one she calls +her own. A second thought, and she makes up her mind not to get into +bed, but to ask Mr. Fitzgerald if he will be good enough, when next he +meets his Onher, the Mayor, just to say to him how Mr. Krone is bringing +disgrace upon the house and every one in it, by letting rooms to +negroes. Here she commences pouring out her pent-up wrath upon the head +of Mr. Krone, and the colored gentleman, whom she declares has a dozen +white females in his room every night. The detective encourages her by +saying it is not right of Mr. Krone, who looks more at the color of his +money than the skin of his tenants. "To come of a dacint family—and be +brought to this!" says Mrs. Murphy, allowing her passion to rise, and +swearing to have revenge of the negro in the next room.</p> + +<p>"You drink this gin, yet—I have warned you against it," interposes the +detective, pointing to some bottles on the bureau. "Faith, an' it's the +gin gets a many of us," returns the woman, curtly, as she gathers about +her the skirts of her garments. "Onyhow, yerself wouldn't deprive us of +a drop now and then, jist to keep up the spirits." The detective shakes +his head, then discloses to them the object of his search, adding, in +parenthesis, that he does not think Mr. Toddleworth is the thief. A +dozen tongues are ready to confirm the detective's belief. "Not a +shillin' of it did the poor crature take—indeed he didn't, now, Mr. +Fitzgerald. 'Onor's 'onor, all over the wurld!" says Mrs. Murphy, +grasping the detective by the hand. "Stay till I tell ye all about it. +Mary Maguire—indeed an' ye knows her, Mr. Fitzgerald—this same +afternoon looked in to say—'how do ye do, Mrs. Murphy. See this! Mrs. +Murphy,' says she, 'an' the divil a sich a pocket of money I'd see +before, as she held in her right hand, jist. 'Long life to ye, Mary,' +says I. 'We'll have a pint, Mrs. Murphy,' says she. 'May ye niver want +the worth of it,' says I. And the pint was not long in, when Mary got a +little the worse of it, and let all out about the money. 'You won't +whisper it, Mrs. Murphy,' says she, 'if I'd tell ye in confidence by +what manes I got the lift?'"</p> + +<p>"'Not in the wide world, Mary,' says I; 'ye may trust me for that same.' +'Shure didn't I raise it from the pocket of an auld woman in spectacles, +that watched the fool beyant dig up the corporation.' 'An' it'll not do +yerself much good,' says I, liftin' the same, and cuttin' away to the +house. 'You won't whisper it?' says she."</p> + +<p>"I can confirm the truth of that same," rejoins a brusque-figured man, +rising from his pallet, and speaking with regained confidence. "Mary +looked in at the Blazers, and being the worse of liquor, showed a dale +of ready money, and trated everybody, and gave the money to everybody, +and was wilcome wid everybody. Then Mrs. McCarty got aboard of her +ginerosity, and got her into the Rookery, where the Miss McCartys +thought it would not be amiss to have a quart. The same was brought in, +and Mary hersel' was soon like a dead woman on the floor, jist—"</p> + +<p>"And they got the money all away?" interrupts the detective.</p> + +<p>"Faith, an' she'll not have a blessed dollar come daylight," continues +the man, resuming his pallet.</p> + +<p>The detective bids Mrs. Murphy good night, and is soon groping his way +over a rickety old floor, along a dark, narrow passage, scarce high +enough to admit him, and running at right angles with the first. A door +on the left opens into a grotto-like place, the sickly atmosphere of +which seems hurling its poison into the very blood. "Who's here?" +inquires the detective, and a voice, feeble and hollow, responds: +"Lodgers!"</p> + +<p>The damp, greasy walls; the broken ceilings; the sooty fireplace, with +its shattered bricks; the decayed wainscoating—its dark, forlorn +aspect, all bespeak it the fit abode of rats. And yet Mr. Krone thinks +it comfortable enough (the authorities think Mr. Krone the best judge) +for the accommodation of thirteen remnants of human misery, all of whom +are here huddled together on the wet, broken floor, borrowing warmth of +one another. The detective's light falls curiously upon the dread +picture, which he stands contemplating. A pale, sickly girl, of some +eleven summers, her hair falling wildly over her wan features, lays upon +some rags near the fireplace, clinging to an inebriated mother. Here a +father, heart-sick and prostrate with disease, seeks to keep warm his +three ragged children, nestling about him. An homeless outcast, +necessity forces him to send them out to prey upon the community by day, +and to seek in this wretched hovel a shelter at night. Yonder the rags +are thrown back, a moving mass is disclosed, and there protrudes a +disfigured face, made ghostly by the shadow of the detective's lantern. +At the detective's feet a prostrate girl, insensible of gin, is seized +with convulsions, clutches with wasted hands at the few rags about her +poor, flabby body, then with fingers grasping, and teeth firmly set, her +whole frame writhes in agony. Your missionary never whispered a kind, +encouraging word in her ear; his hand never pressed that blanched bone +with which she now saddens your heart! Different might it have been with +her had some gentle-tongued Brother Spyke sought her out, bore patiently +with her waywardness, snatched her from this life of shame, and placed +her high in an atmosphere of light and love.</p> + +<p>It is here, gentle shepherds, the benighted stand most in need of your +labors. Seek not to evangelize the Mahomedan world until you have worked +a reform here; and when you have done it, a monument in heaven will be +your reward.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Toddleworth is not here," says the detective, withdrawing into the +passage, then ascending a broken and steep stairs that lead into the +third story. Nine shivering forms crouched in one dismal room; four +squabbish women, and three besotted men in another; and in a third, nine +ragged boys and two small girls—such are the scenes of squalid misery +presented here. In a little front room, Mr. Tom Downey, his wife, and +eight children, lay together upon the floor, half covered with rags. Mr. +Downey startles at the appearance of the detective, rises nervously from +his pallet, and after the pause of a moment, says: "Indeed, yer welcome, +Mr. Fitzgerald. Indeed, I have not—an' God knows it's the truth I +tell—seen Mr. Toddleworth the week;" he replies, in answer to a +question from the detective.</p> + +<p>"You took a drop with him this afternoon?" continues the detective, +observing his nervousness.</p> + +<p>"God knows it's a mistake, Mr. Fitzgerald." Mr. Downey changes the +subject, by saying the foreigners in the garret are a great nuisance, +and disturb him of his rest at night.</p> + +<p>A small, crooked stair leads into "Organ-grinders' Roost," in the +garret. To "Organ-grinders' Roost" the detective ascends. If, reader, +you have ever pictured in your mind the cave of despair, peopled by +beings human only in shape, you may form a faint idea of the +wretchedness presented in "Organ-grinders' Roost," at the top of the +house of the Nine Nations. Seven stalworth men shoot out from among a +mass of rags on the floor, and with dark, wandering eyes, and massive, +uncombed beards, commence in their native Italian a series of +interrogatories, not one of which the detective can understand. They +would inquire for whom he seeks at this strange hour. He (the detective) +stands unmoved, as with savage gesture—he has discovered his star—they +tell him they are famishing of hunger. A pretty black-eyed girl, to +whose pale, but beautifully oval face an expression of sorrow lends a +touching softness, lays on the bare floor, beside a mother of +patriarchal aspect. Now she is seized with a sharp cough that brings +blood at every paroxysm. As if forgetting herself, she lays her hand +gently upon the cheek of her mother, anxious to comfort her. Ah! the +hard hand of poverty has been upon her through life, and stubbornly +refuses to relax its grip, even in her old age. An organ forms here and +there a division between the sleepers; two grave-visaged monkeys sit +chattering in the fireplace, then crouch down on the few charred sticks. +A picture of the crucifix is seen conspicuous over the dingy fireplace, +while from the slanting roof hang several leathern girdles. Oh, what a +struggle for life is their's! Mothers, fathers, daughters, and little +children, thus promiscuously grouped, and coming up in neglect and +shame. There an old man, whom remorseless death is just calling into +eternity, with dull, glassy eyes, white, flowing beard, bald head, +sunken mouth, begrimed and deeply-wrinkled face, rises, spectre-like, +from his pallet. Now he draws from his breast a small crucifix, and +commences muttering to it in a guttural voice. "Peace, peace, good old +man—the holy father will come soon—the holy virgin will come soon: he +will receive the good spirit to his bosom," says a black-eyed daughter, +patting him gently upon the head, then looking in his face solicitously, +as he turns his eyes upward, and for a few moments seems invoking the +mercy of the Allwise. "Yes, father," she resumes, lightening up the mat +of straw upon which he lays, "the world has been unkind to you, but you +are passing from it to a better—you will be at peace soon."</p> + +<p>"Soon, soon, soon," mumbles the old man, in a whisper; and having +carefully returned the crucifix to his bosom, grasps fervently the hand +of the girl and kisses it, as her eyes swim in tears.</p> + +<p>Such, to the shame of those who live in princely palaces, and revel in +luxury, are but faintly-drawn pictures of what may be seen in the house +of the Nine Nations.</p> + +<p>The detective is about to give up the search, and turns to descend the +stairs, when suddenly he discerns a passage leading to the north end of +the garret. Here, in a little closet-like room, on the right, the rats +his only companions, lies the prostrate form of poor Toddleworth.</p> + +<p>"Well, I persevered till I found you," says the detective, turning his +light full upon the body. Another minute, and his features become as +marble; he stands aghast, and his whole frame seems struggling under the +effect of some violent shock. "What, what, what!" he shouts, in nervous +accents, "Murder! murder! murder! some one has murdered him." Motionless +the form lies, the shadow of the light revealing the ghastly spectacle. +The head lies in a pool of blood, the bedimmed eyes, having taken their +last look, remain fixedly set on the black roof. "He has died of a +blow—of a broken skull!" says the frightened official, feeling, and +feeling, and pressing the arms and hands that are fast becoming rigid. +Life is gone out; a pauper's grave will soon close over what remains of +this wretched outcast. The detective hastens down stairs, spreads the +alarm over the neighborhood, and soon the House of the Nine Nations is +the scene of great excitement.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h3>CHAPTER XXIX.</h3> + +<p class='center' style='font-size:smaller;'>IN WHICH MAY BE SEEN A FEW OF OUR COMMON EVILS.</p> + + +<p>Leaving for a time the scenes in the House of the Nine Nations, let us +return to Charleston, that we may see how matters appertaining to this +history are progressing. Mr. Snivel is a popular candidate for the +Senate of South Carolina; and having shot his man down in the street, +the question of his fighting abilities we regard as honorably settled. +Madame Montford, too, has by him been kept in a state of nervous +anxiety, for he has not yet found time to search in the "Poor-house for +the woman Munday." All our very first, and best-known families, have +dropped Madame, who is become a wet sheet on the fashionable world. A +select committee of the St. Cecilia has twice considered her expulsion, +while numerous very respectable and equally active old ladies have been +shaking their scandal-bags at her head. Sins have been laid at her door +that would indeed damage a reputation with a fairer endorsement than New +York can give.</p> + +<p>Our city at this moment is warmed into a singular state of excitement. A +Georgia editor (we regard editors as belonging to a very windy class of +men), not having the mightiness of our chivalry before him, said the +Union would have peace if South Carolina were shut up in a penitentiary. +And for this we have invited the indiscreet gentleman to step over the +border, that we may hang him, being extremely fond of such common-place +amusements. What the facetious fellow meant was, that our own State +would enjoy peace and prosperity were our mob-politicians all in the +penitentiary. And with this sensible opinion we heartily agree.</p> + +<p>We regard our state of civilization as extremely enviable. To-day we +made a lion of the notorious Hines, the forger. Hines, fashioning after +our hapless chivalry, boasts that South Carolina is his State—his +political mother. He has, nevertheless, graced with his presence no few +penitentiaries. We feasted him in that same prison where we degrade and +starve the honest poor; we knew him guilty of an heinous crime—yet we +carried him jubilantly to the "halls of justice." And while +distinguished lawyers tendered their services to the "clever villain," +you might have witnessed in sorrow a mock trial, and heard a mob +sanction with its acclamations his release.</p> + +<p>Oh, truth and justice! how feeble is thy existence where the god slavery +reigns. And while men are heard sounding the praises of this highwayman +at the street corners, extolling men who have shot down their fellow-men +in the streets, and calling those "Hon. gentlemen," who have in the most +cowardly manner assassinated their opponents, let us turn to a different +picture. Two genteely-dressed men are seen entering the old, jail. "I +have twice promised them a happy surprise," says one, whose pale, +studious features, wear an expression of gentleness. The face of the +other is somewhat florid, but beaming with warmth of heart. They enter, +having passed up one of the long halls, a room looking into the +prison-yard. Several weary-faced prisoners are seated round a deal +table, playing cards; among them is the old sailor described in the +early part of this history. "You don't know my friend, here?" says the +young man of the studious face, addressing the prisoners, and pointing +to his companion. The prisoners look inquiringly at the stranger, then +shake their heads in response.</p> + +<p>"No, you don't know me: you never knew me when I was a man," speaks the +stranger, raising his hat, as a smile lights up his features. "You don't +know Tom Swiggs, the miserable inebriate—"</p> + +<p>A spontaneous shout of recognition, echoing and reechoing through the +old halls, interrupts this declaration. One by one the imprisoned men +grasp him by the hand, and shower upon him the warmest, the heartiest +congratulations. A once fallen brother has risen to a knowledge of his +own happiness. Hands that raised him from that mat of straw, when the +mental man seemed lost, now welcome him restored, a purer being.</p> + +<p>"Ah, Spunyarn," says Tom, greeting the old sailor with childlike +fondness, as the tears are seen gushing into the eyes, and coursing down +the browned face of the old mariner, "I owe you a debt I fear I never +can pay. I have thought of you in my absence, and had hoped on my return +to see you released. I am sorry you are not—"</p> + +<p>"Well, as to that," interrupts the old sailor, his face resuming its +wonted calm, "I can't—you know I can't, Tom,—sail without a clearance. +I sometimes think I'm never going to get one. Two years, as you know, +I've been here, now backing and then filling, in and out, just as it +suits that chap with the face like a snatch-block. They call him a +justice. 'Pon my soul, Tom, I begin to think justice for us poor folks +is got aground. Well, give us your hand agin' (he seizes Tom by the +hand); its all well wi' you, anyhows.'</p> + +<p>"Yes, thank God," says Tom, returning his friendly shake, "I have +conquered the enemy, and my thanks for it are due to those who reached +my heart with kind words, and gave me a brother's hand. I was not dead +to my own degradation; but imprisonment left me no hope. The sting of +disappointment may pain your feelings; hope deferred may torture you +here in a prison; the persecutions of enemies may madden your very soul; +but when a mother turns coldly from you—No, I will not say it, for I +love her still—" he hesitates, as the old sailor says, with touching +simplicity, he never knew what it was to have a mother or father. Having +spread before the old man and his companions sundry refreshments he had +ordered brought in, and received in return their thanks, he inquires of +Spunyarn how it happened that he got into prison, and how it is that he +remains here a fixture.</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you, Tom," says the old sailor, commencing his story. "We'd +just come ashore—had a rough passage—and, says I to myself, here's lay +up ashore awhile. So I gets a crimp, who takes me to a crib. 'It's all +right here—you'll have snug quarters, Jack,' says he, introducing me to +the chap who kept it. I gives him twenty dollars on stack, and gets up +my chest and hammock, thinking it was all fair and square. Then I meets +an old shipmate, who I took in tow, he being hard ashore for cash. 'Let +us top the meetin' with a glass,' says I. 'Agreed,' says Bill, and I +calls her on, the very best. 'Ten cents a glass,' says the fellow behind +the counter, giving us stuff that burnt as it went. 'Mister,' says I, +'do ye want to poison a sailor?' 'If you no like him,' says he, 'go get +better somewhere else.' I told him to give me back the twenty, and me +dunnage.</p> + +<p>"'You don't get him—clear out of mine 'ouse,' says he.</p> + +<p>"'Under the peak,' says I, fetching him a but under the lug that beached +him among his beer-barrels. He picked himself up, and began talking +about a magistrate. And knowing what sort of navigation a fellow'd have +in the hands of that sort of land-craft, I began to think about laying +my course for another port. 'Hold on here,' says a big-sided +land-lubber, seizing me by the fore-sheets. 'Cast off there,' says I, +'or I'll put ye on yer beam-ends.'</p> + +<p>"'I'm a constable,' says he, pulling out a pair of irons he said must go +on my hands."</p> + +<p>"I hope he did not put them on," interrupts the young theologian, for it +is he who accompanies Tom.</p> + +<p>"Avast! I'll come to that. He said he'd only charge me five dollars for +going to jail without 'em, so rather than have me calling damaged, I giv +him it. It was only a trifle. 'Now, Jack,' says the fellow, as we went +along, in a friendly sort of way, 'just let us pop in and see the +justice. I think a ten 'll get ye a clearance.' 'No objection to that,' +says I, and in we went, and there sat the justice, face as long and +sharp as a marlinspike, in a dirty old hole, that looked like our +forecastle. 'Bad affair this, Jack,' says he, looking up over his +spectacles. 'You must be locked up for a year and a day, Jack.'</p> + +<p>"'You'll give a sailor a hearin', won't ye?' says I. 'As to that,—well, +I don't know, Jack; you musn't break the laws of South Carolina when you +get ashore. You seem like a desirable sailor, and can no doubt get a +ship and good wages—this is a bad affair. However, as I'm not inclined +to be hard, if you are disposed to pay twenty dollars, you can go.' 'Law +and justice,' says I, shaking my fist at him—'do ye take this +salt-water citizen for a fool?'</p> + +<p>"'Take him away, Mr. Stubble—lock him up!—lock him up!' says the +justice, and here I am, locked up, hard up, hoping. I'd been tied up +about three weeks when the justice looked in one day, and after +inquiring for me, and saying, 'good morning, Jack,' and seeming a little +by the head: 'about this affair of yourn, Jack,' says he, 'now, if +you'll mind your eye when you get out—my trouble's worth ten +dollars—and pay me, I'll discharge you, and charge the costs to the +State.'</p> + +<p>"'Charge the cost to the State!' says I. 'Do you take Spunyarn for a +marine?' At this he hauled his wind, and stood out."</p> + +<p>"You have had a hearing before the Grand Jury, have you not?" inquires +Tom, evincing a deep interest in the story of his old friend.</p> + +<p>"Not I. This South Carolina justice is a hard old craft to sail in. The +Grand Jury only looks in once every six months, and then looks out +again, without inquiring who's here. And just before the time it comes +round, I'm shuffled out, and just after it has left, I'm shuffled in +again—fees charged to the State! That's it. So here I am, a fee-making +machine, bobbing in and out of jail to suit the conveniences of Mister +Justice. I don't say this with any ill will—I don't." Having concluded +his story, the old sailor follows his visitors to the prison gate, takes +an affectionate leave of Tom Swiggs, and returns to join his companions. +On the following day, Tom intercedes with Mr. Snivel, for it is he who +thus harvests fees of the State by retaining the old sailor in prison, +and procures his release. And here, in Mr. Snivel, you have an +instrument of that debased magistracy which triumphs over the weak, that +sits in ignorance and indolence, that invests the hypocritical designer +with a power almost absolute, that keeps justice muzzled on her +throne—the natural offspring of that demon-making institution that +scruples not to brunt the intellect of millions, while dragging a pall +of sloth over the land.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h3>CHAPTER XXX.</h3> + +<p class='center' style='font-size:smaller;'>CONTAINING VARIOUS THINGS APPERTAINING TO THIS HISTORY.</p> + + +<p>Maria McArthur having, by her womanly sympathy, awakened the generous +impulses of Tom Swiggs, he is resolved they shall have a new channel for +their action. Her kindness touched his heart; her solicitude for his +welfare gained his affections, and a recognition of that love she so +long and silently cherished for him, is the natural result. The heart +that does not move to woman's kindness, must indeed be hard. But there +were other things which strengthened Tom's affections for Maria. The +poverty of her aged father; the insults offered her by Keepum and +Snivel; the manner in which they sought her ruin while harassing her +father; the artlessness and lone condition of the pure-minded girl; and +the almost holy affection evinced for the old man on whom she doted—all +tended to bring him nearer and nearer to her, until he irresistibly +found himself at her feet, pledging that faith lovers call eternal. +Maria is not of that species of being the world calls beautiful; but +there is about her something pure, thoughtful, even noble; and this her +lone condition heightens. Love does not always bow before beauty. The +singularities of human nature are most strikingly blended in woman. She +can overcome physical defects; she can cultivate attractions most +appreciated by those who study her worth deepest. Have you not seen +those whose charms at first-sight found no place in your thoughts, but +as you were drawn nearer and nearer to them, so also did your esteem +quicken, and that esteem, almost unconsciously, you found ripening into +affection, until in turn you were seized with an ardent passion? You +have. And you have found yourself enamored of the very one against whom +you had endeavored most to restrain your generous impulses. Like the +fine lines upon a picture with a repulsive design, you trace them, and +recur to them until your admiration is carried away captive. So it is +with woman's charms. Tom Swiggs, then, the restored man, bows before the +simple goodness of the daughter of the old Antiquary.</p> + +<p>Mr. Trueman, the shipowner, gave Tom employment, and has proved a friend +to him. Tom, in turn, has so far gained his confidence and respect that +Mr. Trueman contemplates sending him to London, on board one of his +ships. Nor has Tom forgotten to repay the old Antiquary, who gave him a +shelter when he was homeless; this home is still under the roof of the +old man, toward whose comfort he contributes weekly a portion of his +earnings. If you could but look into that little back-parlor, you would +see a picture of humble cheerfulness presented in the old man, his +daughter, and Tom Swiggs, seated round the tea-table. Let us, however, +turn and look into one of our gaudy saloons, that we may see how +different a picture is presented there.</p> + +<p>It is the night previous to an election for Mayor. Leaden clouds hang +threatening over the city; the gas-light throws out its shadows at an +early hour; and loud-talking men throng our street-corners and public +resorts. Our politicians tell us that the destiny of the rich and the +poor is to forever guard that institution which employs all our +passions, and absorbs all our energies.</p> + +<p>In a curtained box, at the St. Charles, sits Mr. Snivel and George +Mullholland—the latter careworn and downcast of countenance. "Let us +finish this champaign, my good fellow," says the politician, emptying +his glass. "A man—I mean one who wants to get up in the world—must, +like me, have two distinct natures. He must have a grave, moral +nature—that is necessary to the affairs of State. And he must, to +accommodate himself to the world (law and society, I mean), have a +terribly loose nature—a perfect quicksand, into which he can drag +everything that serves himself. You have seen how I can develop both +these, eh?" The downcast man shakes his head, as the politician watches +him with a steady gaze. "Take the advice of a friend, now, let the Judge +alone—don't threaten again to shoot that girl. Threats are sometimes +dragged in as testimony against a man (Mr. Snivel taps George +admonishingly on the arm); and should anything of a serious nature +befall her—the law is curious—why, what you have said might implicate +you, though you were innocent."</p> + +<p>"You," interrupts George, "have shot your man down in the street."</p> + +<p>"A very different affair, George. My position in society protects me. I +am a member of the Jockey-Club, a candidate for the State Senate—a +Justice of the Peace—yes, a politician! You are—Well, I was going to +say—nothing! We regard northerners as enemies; socially, they are +nothing. Come, George, come with me. I am your best friend. You shall +see the power in my hands." The two men saunter out together, pass up a +narrow lane leading from King Street, and are soon groping their way up +the dark stairway of an old, neglected-looking wooden building, that for +several years has remained deserted by everything but rats and +politicians,—one seeming to gnaw away at the bowels of the nation, the +other at the bowels of the old building. Having ascended to the second +floor, Mr. Snivel touches a spring, a suspicious little trap opens, and +two bright eyes peer out, as a low, whispering voice inquires, "Who's +there?" Mr. Snivel has exchanged the countersign, and with his companion +is admitted into a dark vestibule, in which sits a brawny guardsman.</p> + +<p>"Cribs are necessary, sir—I suppose you never looked into one before?"</p> + +<p>George, in a voice discovering timidity, says he never has.</p> + +<p>"You must have cribs, and crib-voters; they are necessary to get into +high office—indeed, I may say, to keep up with the political spirit of +the age." Mr. Snivel is interrupted by the deep, coarse voice of Milman +Mingle, the vote-cribber, whose broad, savage face looks out at a small +guard trap. "All right," he says, recognizing Mr. Snivel. Another +minute, and a door opens into a long, sombre-looking room, redolent of +the fumes of whiskey and tobacco. "The day is ours. We'll elect our +candidate, and then my election is certain; naturalized thirteen rather +green ones to-day—to-morrow they will be trump cards. Stubbs has +attended to the little matter of the ballot-boxes." Mr. Snivel gives the +vote-cribber's hand a warm shake, and turns to introduce his friend. The +vote-cribber has seen him before. "There are thirteen in," he says, and +two more he has in his eye, and will have in to-night, having sent +trappers out for them.</p> + +<p>Cold meats, bread, cheese, and crackers, and a bountiful supply of bad +whiskey, are spread over a table in the centre of the room; while the +pale light of two small lamps, suspended from the ceiling, throws a +curious shadow over the repulsive features of thirteen forlorn, ragged, +and half-drunken men, sitting here and there round the room, on wooden +benches. You see ignorance and cruelty written in their very +countenances. For nearly three weeks they have not scented the air of +heaven, but have been held here in a despicable bondage. Ragged and +filthy, like Falstaff's invincibles, they will be marched to the polls +to-morrow, and cast their votes at the bid of the cribber. "A happy lot +of fellows," says Mr. Snivel, exultingly. "I have a passion for this +sort of business—am general supervisor of all these cribs, you +understand. We have several of them. Some of these 'drifts' we kidnap, +and some come and be locked up of their own accord—merely for the feed +and drink. We use them, and then snuff them out until we want them +again." Having turned from George, and complimented the vote-cribber for +his skill, he bids him good-night. Together George and the politician +wend their way to an obscure part of the city, and having passed up two +flight of winding stairs, into a large, old-fashioned house on the Neck, +are in a sort of barrack-room, fitted up with bunks and benches, and +filled with a grotesque assembly, making night jubilant—eating, +drinking, smoking, and singing. "A jolly set of fellows," says Mr. +Snivel, with an expression of satisfaction. "This is a decoy crib—the +vagabonds all belong to the party of our opponents, but don't know it. +We work in this way: we catch them—they are mostly foreigners—lock +them up, give them good food and drink, and make them—not the half can +speak our language—believe we belong to the same party. They yield, as +submissive as curs. To morrow, we—this is in confidence—drug them all, +send them into a fast sleep, in which we keep them till the polls are +closed, then, not wanting them longer, we kick them out for a set of +drunkards. Dangerous sort of cribbing, this. I let you into the secret +out of pure friendship." Mr. Snivel pauses. George has at heart +something of deeper interest to him than votes and vote-cribbers. But +why, he says to himself, does Mr. Snivel evince this anxiety to befriend +me? This question is answered by Mr. Snivel inviting him to take a look +into the Keno den.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h3>CHAPTER XXXI.</h3> + +<p class='center' style='font-size:smaller;'>THE KENO DEN, AND WHAT MAY BE SEEN IN IT.</p> + + +<p>The clock has just struck twelve. Mr. Snivel and George, passing from +the scenes of our last chapter, enter a Keno den,<a name="FNanchor_5_5" id="FNanchor_5_5"></a><a href="#Footnote_5_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a> situated on Meeting +street. "You must get money, George. Here you are nothing without money. +Take this, try your hand, make your genius serve you." Mr. Snivel puts +twenty dollars into George's hand. They are in a room some twenty by +thirty feet in dimensions, dimly-lighted. Standing here and there are +gambling tables, around which are seated numerous mechanics, losing, and +being defrauded of that for which they have labored hard during the +week. Hope, anxiety, and even desperation is pictured on the +countenances of the players. Maddened and disappointed, one young man +rises from a table, at which sits a craven-faced man sweeping the +winnings into his pile, and with profane tongue, says he has lost his +all. Another, with flushed face and bloodshot eyes, declares it the +sixth time he has lost his earnings here. A third reels confusedly about +the room, says a mechanic is but a dog in South Carolina; and the sooner +he comes to a dog's end the better.</p> + +<p>Mr. Snivel points George to a table, at which he is soon seated. +"Blank—blank—blank!" he reiterates, as the numbers turn up, and one by +one the moody bank-keeper sweeps the money into his fast-increasing +heap. "Cursed fate!—it is against me," mutters the forlorn man. +"Another gone, and yet another! How this deluding, this fascinating +money tortures me." With hectic face and agitated nerve, he puts down +his last dollar. "Luck's mysterious!" exclaims Mr. Snivel, looking on +unmoved, as the man of the moody face declares a blank, and again sweeps +the money into his heap. "Gone!" says George, "all's gone now." He rises +from his seat, in despair.</p> + +<p>"Don't get frantic, George—be a philosopher—try again—here's a ten. +Luck 'll turn," says Mr. Snivel, patting the deluded man familiarly on +the shoulder, as he resumes his seat. "Will poverty never cease +torturing me? I have tried to be a man, an honest man, a respectable +man. And yet, here I am, again cast upon a gambler's sea, struggling +with its fearful tempests. How cold, how stone-like the faces around +me!" he muses, watching with death-like gaze each number as it turns up. +Again he has staked his last dollar; again fortune frowns upon him. Like +a furnace of livid flame, the excitement seems burning up his brain. "I +am a fool again," he says, throwing the blank number contemptuously upon +the table. "Take it—take it, speechless, imperturbable man! Rake it +into your pile, for my eyes are dim, and my fortune I must seek +elsewhere."</p> + +<p>A noise at the door, as of some one in distress, is heard, and there +rushes frantically into the den a pale, dejected-looking woman, bearing +in her arms a sick and emaciated babe. "Oh, William! William!—has it +come to this?" she shrieks, casting a wild glance round the den, until, +with a dark, sad expression, her eye falls upon the object of her +search. It is her husband, once a happy mechanic. Enticed by degrees +into this den of ruin, becoming fascinated with its games of chance, he +is how an <i>habitue</i>. To-night he left his suffering family, lost his all +here, and now, having drank to relieve his feelings, lies insensible on +the floor. "Come home!—come home! for God's sake come home to your +suffering family," cries the woman, vaulting to him and taking him by +the hand, her hair floating dishevelled down her shoulders. "I sent +Tommy into the street to beg—I am ashamed—and he is picked up by the +watch for a thief, a vagrant!" The prostrate man remains insensible to +her appeal. Two policemen, who have been quietly neglecting their duties +while taking a few chances, sit unmoved. Mr. Snivel thinks the woman +better be removed. "Our half-starved mechanics," he says, "are a depraved +set; and these wives they bring with them from the North are a sort of +cross between a lean stage-driver and a wildcat. She seems a poor, +destitute creature—just what they all come to, out here." Mr. Snivel +shrugs his shoulders, bids George good night, and takes his departure. +"Take care of yourself, George," he says admonitiously, as the destitute +man watches him take his leave. The woman, frantic at the coldness and +apathy manifested for her distress, lays her babe hurriedly upon the +floor, and with passion and despair darting from her very eyes, makes a +lunge across the keno table at the man who sits stoically at the bank. +In an instant everything is turned into uproar and confusion. Glasses, +chairs, and tables, are hurled about the floor; shriek follows +shriek—"help! pity me! murder!" rises above the confusion, the watch +without sound the alarm, and the watch within suddenly become conscious +of their duty. In the midst of all the confusion, a voice cries out: +"My pocket book—my pocket book!—I have been robbed." A light flashes +from a guardsman's lantern, and George Mullholland is discovered with +the forlorn woman in his arms—she clings tenaciously to her +babe—rushing into the street.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h3>CHAPTER XXXII.</h3> + +<p class='center' style='font-size:smaller;'>WHICH A STATE OF SOCIETY IS SLIGHTLY REVEALED.</p> + + +<p>A week has rolled into the past since the event at the Keno den.</p> + +<p>Madame Montford, pale, thoughtful, and abstracted, sits musing in her +parlor. "Between this hope and fear—this remorse of conscience, this +struggle to overcome the suspicions of society, I have no peace. I am +weary of this slandering—this unforgiving world. And yet it is my own +conscience that refuses to forgive me. Go where I will I see the cold +finger of scorn pointed at me: I read in every countenance, 'Madame +Montford, you have wronged some one—your guilty conscience betrays +you!' I have sought to atone for my error—to render justice to one my +heart tells me I have wronged, yet I cannot shake off the dread burden; +and there seems rest for me only in the grave. Ah! there it is. The one +error of my life, and the moans used to conceal it, may have brought +misery upon more heads than one." She lays her hand upon her heart, and +shakes her head sorrowfully. "Yes! something like a death-knell rings in +my ears—'more than one have you sent, unhappy, to the grave.' Rejected +by the one I fancy my own; my very touch, scorned; my motives +misconstrued—all, perhaps, by—a doubt yet hangs between us—an +abandoned stranger. Duty to my conscience has driven me to acts that +have betrayed me to society. I cannot shake my guilt from me even for a +day; and now society coldly cancels all my claims to its attentions. If +I could believe her dead; if I but knew this girl was not the object of +all my heart's unrest, then the wearying doubt would be buried, and my +heart might find peace in some remote corner of the earth. Well, +well—perhaps I am wasting all this torture on an unworthy object. I +should have thought of this sooner, for now foul slander is upon every +tongue, and my misery is made thrice painful by my old flatterers. I +will make one more effort, then if I fail of getting a certain clue to +her, I will remove to some foreign country, shake off these haunting +dreams, and be no longer a victim to my own thoughts." Somewhat +relieved, Madame is roused from her reverie by a gentle tap at the door. +"I have waited your coming, and am glad to see you," she says, extending +her hand, as a servant, in response to her command, ushers into her +presence no less a person than Tom Swiggs. "I have sent for you," she +resumes, motioning him gracefully to a chair, in which she begs he will +be seated, "because I feel I can confide in you—"</p> + +<p>"Anything in my power is at your service, Madame," modestly interposes +Tom, regaining confidence.</p> + +<p>"I entrusted something of much importance to me, to Mr. Snivel—"</p> + +<p>"We call him the Hon. Mr. Snivel now, since he has got to be a great +politician," interrupts Tom.</p> + +<p>"And he not only betrayed my Confidence," pursues Madame Montford, "but +retains the amount I paid him, and forgets to render the promised +service. You, I am told, can render me a service—"</p> + +<p>"As for Mr. Snivel," pursues Tom, hastily, "he has of late had his hands +full, getting a poor but good-natured fellow, by the name of George +Mullholland, into trouble. His friend, Judge Sleepyhorn, and he, have +for some time had a plot on hand to crush this poor fellow. A few nights +ago Snivel drove him mad at a gambling den, and in his desperation he +robbed a man of his pocket-book. He shared the money with a poor woman +he rescued at the den, and that is the way it was discovered that he was +the criminal. He is a poor, thoughtless man, and he has been goaded on +from one thing to another, until he was driven to commit this act. +First, his wife was got away from him—" Tom pauses and blushes, as +Madame Montford says: "His wife was got away from him?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Madame," returns Tom, with an expression of sincerity, "The Judge +got her away from him; and this morning he was arraigned before that +same Judge for examination, and Mr. Snivel was a principal witness, and +there was enough found against him to commit him for trial at the +Sessions." Discovering that this information is exciting her emotions, +Tom pauses, and contemplates her with steady gaze. She desires he will +be her guide to the Poor-House, and there assist her in searching for +Mag Munday, whom, report says, is confined in a cell. Tom having +expressed his readiness to serve her, they are soon on their way to that +establishment.</p> + +<p>A low, squatty building, with a red, moss-covered roof, two lean +chimneys peeping out, the windows blockaded with dirt, and situated in +one of the by-lanes of the city, is our Poor-House, standing half hid +behind a crabbed old wall, and looking very like a much-neglected +Quaker church in vegetation. We boast much of our institutions, and +this being a sample of them, we hold it in great reverence. You may say +that nothing so forcibly illustrates a state of society as the character +of its institutions for the care of those unfortunate beings whom a +capricious nature has deprived of their reason. We agree with you. We +see our Poor-House crumbling to the ground with decay, yet imagine it, +or affect to imagine it, a very grand edifice, in every way suited to +the wants of such rough ends of humanity as are found in it. Like Satan, +we are brilliant believers in ourselves, not bad sophists, and +singularly clever in finding apologies for all great crimes.</p> + +<p>At the door of the Poor-House stands a dilapidated hearse, to which an +old gray horse is attached. A number of buzzards have gathered about +him, turn their heads suspiciously now and then, and seem meditating a +descent upon his bones at no very distant day. Madame casts a glance at +the hearse, and the poor old horse, and the cawing buzzards, then +follows Tom, timidly, to the door. He has rung the bell, and soon there +stands before them, in the damp doorway, a fussy old man, with a very +broad, red face, and a very blunt nose, and two very dull, gray eyes, +which he fortifies with a fair of massive-framed spectacles, that have a +passion for getting upon the tip-end of his broad blunt nose.</p> + +<p>"There, you want to see somebody! Always somebody wanted to be seen, +when we have dead folks to get rid of," mutters the old man, +querulously, then looking inquiringly at the visitors. Tom says they +would like to go over the premises. "Yes—know you would. Ain't so dull +but I can see what folks want when they look in here." The old man, his +countenance wearing an expression of stupidity, runs his dingy fingers +over the crown of his bald head, and seems questioning within himself +whether to admit them. "I'm not in a very good humor to-day," he rather +growls than speaks, "but you can come in—I'm of a good family—and I'll +call Glentworthy. I'm old—I can't get about much. We'll all get old." +The building seems in a very bad temper generally.</p> + +<p>Mr. Glentworthy is called. Mr. Glentworthy, with a profane expletive, +pops his head out at the top of the stairs, and inquires who wants him. +The visitors have advanced into a little, narrow passage, lumbered with +all sorts of rubbish, and swarming with flies. Mr. Saddlerock (for this +is the old man's name) seems in a declining mood, the building seems in +a declining mood, Mr. Glentworthy seems in a declining mood—everything +you look at seems in a declining mood. "As if I hadn't enough to do, +gettin' off this dead cribber!" interpolates Mr. Glentworthy, +withdrawing his wicked face, and taking himself back into a room on the +left.</p> + +<p>"He's not so bad a man, only it doesn't come out at first," pursues Mr. +Saddlerock, continuing to rub his head, and to fuss round on his toes. +His mind, Madame Montford verily believes stuck in a fog. "We must wait +a bit," says the old man, his face seeming to elongate. "You can look +about—there's not much to be seen, and what there is—well, it's not +the finest." Mr. Saddlerock shuffles his feet, and then shuffles himself +into a small side room. Through the building there breathes a warm, +sickly atmosphere; the effect has left its marks upon the sad, waning +countenances of its unfortunate inmates.</p> + +<p>Tom and Madame Montford set out to explore the establishment. They +enter room after room, find them small, dark, and filthy beyond +description. Some are crowded with half-naked, flabby females, whose +careworn faces, and well-starved aspect, tells a sorrowful tale of the +chivalry. An abundant supply of profane works, in yellow and red covers, +would indeed seem to have been substituted for food, which, to the shame +of our commissioners, be it said, is a scarce article here. Cooped up in +another little room, after the fashion of wild beasts in a cage, are +seven poor idiots, whose forlorn condition, sad, dull countenances, as +they sit round a table, staring vacantly at one another, like mummies in +contemplation, form a wild but singularly touching picture. Each +countenance pales before the seeming study of its opponent, until, +enraptured and amazed, they break out into a wild, hysterical laugh. And +thus, poisoned, starved, and left to die, does time with these poor +mortals fleet on.</p> + +<p>The visitors ascend to the second story. A shuffling of feet in a room +at the top of the stairs excites their curiosity. Mr. Glentworthy's +voice grates harshly on the ear, in language we cannot insert in this +history. "Our high families never look into low places—chance if the +commissioner has looked in here for years," says Tom, observing Madame +Montford protect her inhaling organs with her perfumed cambric. "There +is a principle of economy carried out—and a very nice principle, too, +in getting these poor out of the world as quick as possible." Tom pushes +open a door, and, heavens! what a sight is here. He stands aghast in the +doorway—Madam, on tip-toe, peers anxiously in over his shoulders. Mr. +Glentworthy and two negroes—the former slightly inebriated, the latter +trembling of fright—are preparing to box up a lifeless mass, lying +carelessly upon the floor. The distorted features, the profusion of +long, red hair, curling over a scared face, and the stalworth figure, +shed some light upon the identity of the deceased. "Who is it?" +ejaculates Mr. Glentworthy, in response to an inquiry from Tom. Mr. +Glentworthy shrugs his shoulders, and commences whistling a tune. "That +cove!" he resumes, having stopped short in his tune, "a man what don't +know that cove, never had much to do with politics. Stuffed more ballot +boxes, cribbed more voters, and knocked down more slip-shod +citizens—that cove has, than, put 'em all together, would make a South +Carolina regiment. A mighty man among politicians, he was! Now the devil +has cribbed him—he'll know how good it is!" Mr. Glentworthy says this +with an air of superlative satisfaction, resuming his tune. The dead man +is Milman Mingle, the vote-cribber, who died of a wound he received at +the hands of an antagonist, whom he was endeavoring to "block out" while +going to the polls to cast his vote. "Big politician, but had no home!" +says Madame, with a sigh.</p> + +<p>Mr. Glentworthy soon had what remained of the vote-cribber—the man to +whom so many were indebted for their high offices—into a deal box, and +the deal box into the old hearse, and the old hearse, driven by a +mischievous negro, hastening to that great crib to which we must all go. +"Visitors," Mr. Glentworthy smiles, "must not question the way we do +business here, I get no pay, and there's only old Saddlerock and me to +do all the work. Old Saddlerock, you see, is a bit of a miser, and +having a large family of small Saddlerocks to provide for, scrapes what +he can into his own pocket. No one is the wiser. They can't be—they +never come in." Mr. Glentworthy, in reply to a question from Madame +Montford, says Mag Munday (he has some faint recollection of her) was +twice in the house, which he dignifies with the title of "Institution." +She never was in the "mad cells"—to his recollection. "Them what get +there, mostly die there." A gift of two dollars secures Mr. +Glentworthy's services, and restores him to perfect good nature. "You +will remember," says Tom, "that this woman ran neglected about the +streets, was much abused, and ended in becoming a maniac." Mr. +Glentworthy remembers very well, but adds: "We have so many maniacs on +our hands, that we can't distinctly remember them all. The clergymen +take good care never to look in here. They couldn't do any good if they +did, for nobody cares for the rubbish sent here; and if you tried to +Christianize them, you would only get laughed at. I don't like to be +laughed at. Munday's not here now, that's settled—but I'll—for +curiosity's sake—show you into the 'mad cells.'" Mr. Glentworthy leads +the way, down the rickety old stairs, through the lumbered passage, into +an open square, and from thence into a small out-building, at the +extreme end of which some dozen wet, slippery steps, led into a dark +subterranean passage, on each side of which are small, dungeon-like +cells. "Heavens!" exclaims Madame Montford, picking her way down the +steep, slippery steps. "How chilling! how tomb-like! Can it be that +mortals are confined here, and live?" she mutters, incoherently. The +stifling atmosphere is redolent of disease.</p> + +<p>"It straightens 'em down, sublimely—to put 'em in here," says Mr. +Glentworthy, laconically, lighting his lamp. "I hope to get old +Saddlerock in here. Give him such a mellowing!" He turns his light, and +the shadows play, spectre-like, along a low, wet aisle, hung on each +side with rusty bolts and locks, revealing the doors of cells. An +ominous stillness is broken by the dull clank of chains, the muttering +of voices, the shuffling of limbs; then a low wail breaks upon the ear, +and rises higher and higher, shriller and shriller, until in piercing +shrieks it chills the very heart. Now it ceases, and the echoes, like +the murmuring winds, die faintly away. "Look in here, now," says Mr. +Glentworthy—"a likely wench—once she was!"</p> + +<p>He swings open a door, and there issues from a cell about four feet six +inches wide, and nine long, the hideous countenance of a poor, mulatto +girl, whose shrunken body, skeleton-like arms, distended and glassy +eyes, tell but too forcibly her tale of sorrow. How vivid the picture of +wild idiocy is pictured in her sad, sorrowing face. No painter's touch +could have added a line more perfect. Now she rushes forward, with a +suddenness that makes Madame Montford shrink back, appalled—now she +fixes her eyes, hangs down her head, and gives vent to her tears. "My +soul is white—yes, yes, yes! I know it is white; God tells me it is +white—he knows—he never tortures. He doesn't keep me here to die—no, +I can't die here in the dark. I won't get to heaven if I do. Oh! yes, +yes, yes, I have a white soul, but my skin is not," she rather murmurs +than speaks, continuing to hold down her head, while parting her long, +clustering hair over her shoulders. Notwithstanding the spectacle of +horror presented in this living skeleton, there is something in her look +and action which bespeaks more the abuse of long confinement than the +result of natural aberration of mind. "She gets fierce now and then, +and yells," says the unmoved Glentworthy, "but she won't hurt ye—" +<a name="FNanchor_6_6" id="FNanchor_6_6"></a><a href="#Footnote_6_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a> +"How long," inquires Madame Montford, who has been questioning within +herself whether any act of her life could have brought a Human being +into such a place, "has she been confined here?" Mr. Glentworthy says +she tells her own tale.</p> + +<p>"Five years,—five years,—five long, long years, I have waited for him +in the dark, but he won't come," she lisps in a faltering voice, as her +emotions overwhelm her. Then crouching back upon the floor, she supports +her head pensively in her left hand, her elbow resting on her knee, and +her right hand poised against the brick wall, "Pencele!" says Mr. +Glentworthy, for such is the wretched woman's name, "cannot you sing a +song for your friends?" Turning aside to Madame Montford, he adds, "she +sings nicely. We shall soon get her out of the way—can't last much +longer." Mr. Glentworthy, drawing a small bottle from his pocket, places +it to his lips, saying he stole it from old Saddlerock, and gulps down a +portion of the contents. His breath is already redolent of whiskey. "Oh, +yes, yes, yes! I can sing for them, I can smother them with kisses. Good +faces seldom look in here, seldom look in here," she rises to her feet, +and extends her bony hand, as the tears steal down Madame Montford's +cheeks. Tom stands speechless. He wishes he had power to redress the +wrongs of this suffering maniac—his very soul fires up against the +coldness and apathy of a people who permit such outrages against +humanity. "There!—he comes! he comes! he comes!" the maniac speaks, +with faltering voice, then strikes up a plaintive air, which she sings +with a voice of much sweetness, to these words:</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 15em;"> +When you find him, speed him to me,<br /> +And this heart will cease its bleeding, &c.<br /> +</p> + +<p>The history of all this poor maniac's sufferings is told in a few simple +words that fall incautiously from Mr. Glentworthy's lips: "Poor fool, +she had only been married a couple of weeks, when they sold her husband +down South. She thinks if she keeps mad, he'll come back."</p> + +<p>There was something touching, something melancholy in the music of her +song, as its strains verberated and reverberated through the dread +vault, then, like the echo of a lover's lute on some Alpine hill, died +softly away.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h3>CHAPTER XXXIII.</h3> + +<p class='center' style='font-size:smaller;'>IN WHICH THERE IS A SINGULAR REVELATION.</p> + + +<p>Madame Montford returns, unsuccessful, to her parlor. It is conscience +that unlocks the guilty heart, that forces mortals to seek relief where +there is no chance of finding it. It was this irresistible emotion that +found her counseling Tom Swiggs, making of him a confidant in her search +for the woman she felt could remove the doubt, in respect to Anna's +identity, that hung so painfully in her mind. And yet, such was her +position, hesitating as it were between her ambition to move in +fashionable society, and her anxiety to atone for a past error, that she +dare not disclose the secret of all her troubles even to him. She sought +him, not that he could soften her anxiety, but that being an humble +person, she could pursue her object through him, unobserved to +society—in a word, that he would be a protection against the +apprehensions of scandal-mongers. Such are the shifts to which the +ambitious guilty have recourse. What she has beheld in the poor-house, +too, only serves to quicken her thoughts of the misery she may have +inflicted upon others, and to stimulate her resolution to persevere in +her search for the woman. Conscious that wealth and luxury does not +always bring happiness, and that without a spotless character, woman is +but a feeble creature in this world, she would now sacrifice everything +else for that one ennobling charm.</p> + +<p>It may be proper here to add, that although Tom Swiggs could not enter +into the repentant woman's designs, having arranged with his employer to +sail for London in a few days, she learned of him something that +reflected a little more light in her path. And that was, that the woman +Anna Bonard, repined of her act in leaving George Mullholland, to whom +she was anxious to return—that she was now held against her will; that +she detested Judge Sleepyhorn, although he had provided lavishly for her +comfort. Anna knew George loved her, and that love, even to an abandoned +woman (if she could know it sincere), was dearer to her than all else. +She learned, too, that high up on Anna's right arm, there was imprinted +in blue and red ink, two hearts and a broken anchor. And this tended +further to increase her anxiety. And while evolving all these things in +her mind, and contemplating the next best course to pursue, her parlor +is invaded by Mr. Snivel. He is no longer Mr. Soloman, nor Mr. Snivel. +He is the Hon. Mr. Snivel. It is curious to contemplate the character of +the men to whose name we attach this mark of distinction. "I know you +will pardon my seeming neglect, Madame," he says, grasping her hand +warmly, as a smile of exultation lights up his countenance. "The fact +is, we public men are so absorbed in the affairs of the nation, that we +have scarce a thought to give to affairs of a private nature. We have +elected our ticket. I was determined it should be so, if Jericho fell. +And, more than all, I am made an honorable, by the popular sentiment of +the people—"</p> + +<p>"To be popular with the people, is truly an honor," interrupts the lady, +facetiously.</p> + +<p>"Thank you—O, thank you, for the compliment," pursues our hero. "Now, +as to this unfortunate person you seek, knowing it was of little use to +search for her in our institutions of charity—one never can find out +anything about the wretches who get into them—I put the matter into the +hands of one of our day-police—a plaguey sharp fellow—and he set about +scenting her out. I gave him a large sum, and promised him more if +successful. Here, then, after a long and tedious search—I have no doubt +the fellow earned his money—is what he got from New York, this +morning." The Hon. Mr. Snivel, fixing his eye steadily upon her, hands +her a letter which reads thus:</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 25em;">"<span class="smcap">New York</span>, <i>Dec. 14th, 18—</i>.</p> + +<p>"Last night, while making search after a habitant of the Points, a odd +old chip what has wandered about here for some years, some think he has +bin a better sort of man once, I struck across the woman you want. She +is somewhere tucked away in a Cow Bay garret, and is awful crazy; I'll +keep me eye out till somethin' further. If her friends wants to give her +a lift out of this place, they'd better come and see me at once.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 15em;"> +"Yours, as ever,</p> +<p style="margin-left: 25em;">"<span class="smcap">M—— Fitzgerald</span>."<br /> +</p> + +<p>Mr. Snivel ogles Madame Montford over the page of a book he affects to +read. "Guilt! deep and strong," he says within himself, as Madame, with +flushed countenance and trembling hand, ponders and ponders over the +paper. Then her emotions quicken, her eyes exchange glances with Mr. +Snivel, and she whispers, with a sigh, "found—at last! And yet how +foolish of me to give way to my feelings? The affair, at best, is none +of mine." Mr. Snivel bows, and curls his Saxon mustache. "To do good +for others is the natural quality of a generous nature."</p> + +<p>Madame, somewhat relieved by this condescension of the Hon. gentleman, +says, in reply, "I am curious at solving family affairs."</p> + +<p>"And I!" says our hero, with refreshing coolness—"always ready to do a +bit of a good turn."</p> + +<p>Madame pauses, as if in doubt whether to proceed or qualify what she has +already said. "A relative, whose happiness I make my own," she resumes, +and again pauses, while the words tremble upon her lips. She hears the +words knelling in her ears: "A guilty conscience needs no betrayer."</p> + +<p>"You have," pursues our hero, "a certain clue; and of that I may +congratulate you."</p> + +<p>Madame says she will prepare at once to return to her home in New York, +and—and here again the words hang upon her lips. She was going to say, +her future proceedings would be governed by the paper she holds so +nervously in her finger.</p> + +<p>Snivel here receives a nostrum from the lady's purse. "Truly!—Madame," +he says, in taking leave of her, "the St. Cecilia will regret you—we +shall all regret you; you honored and graced our assemblies so. Our +first families will part with you reluctantly. It may, however, be some +satisfaction to know how many kind things will be said of you in your +absence." Mr. Snivel makes his last bow, a sarcastic smile playing over +his face, and pauses into the street.</p> + +<p>On the following day she encloses a present of fifty dollars to Tom +Swiggs, enjoins the necessity of his keeping her visit to the +poor-house a secret, and takes leave of Charleston.</p> + +<p>And here our scene changes, and we must transport the reader to New +York. It is the day following the night Mr. Detective Fitzgerald +discovered what remained of poor Toddleworth, in the garret of the House +of the Nine Nations. The City Hall clock strikes twelve. The goodly are +gathered into the House of the Foreign Missions, in which peace and +respectability would seem to preside. The good-natured fat man is in his +seat, pondering over letters lately received from the "dark regions" of +Arabia; the somewhat lean, but very respectable-looking Secretary, is +got nicely into his spectacles, and sits pondering over lusty folios of +reports from Hindostan, and various other fields of missionary labor, +all setting forth the various large amounts of money expended, how much +more could be expended, and what a blessing it is to be enabled to +announce the fact that there is now a hope of something being done. The +same anxious-faced bevy of females we described in a previous chapter, +are here, seated at a table, deeply interested in certain periodicals +and papers; while here and there about the room, are several +contemplative gentlemen in black. Brother Spyke, having deeply +interested Brothers Phills and Prim with an account of his visit to the +Bottomless Pit, paces up and down the room, thinking of Antioch, and the +evangelization of the heathen world. "Truly, brother," speaks the +good-natured fat man, "his coming seemeth long." "Eleven was the hour; +but why he tarryeth I know not," returns Brother Spyke, with calm +demeanor. "There is something more alarming in Sister Slocum's absence," +interposes one of the ladies. The house seems in a waiting mood, when +suddenly Mr. Detective Fitzgerald enters, and changes it to one of +anxiety. Several voices inquire if he was successful. He shakes his +head, and having recounted his adventures, the discovery of where the +money went to, and the utter hopelessness of an effort to recover it; +"as for the man, Toddleworth," he says, methodically, "he was found with +a broken skull. The Coroner has had an inquest over him; but murders are +so common. The verdict was, that he died of a broken skull, by the hands +of some one to the jury unknown. Suspicions were strong against one Tom +Downey, who is very like a heathen, and is mistrusted of several +murders. The affair disturbed the neighborhood a little, and the Coroner +tried to get something out concerning the man's history; but it all went +to the wind, for the people were all so ignorant. They all knew +everything about him, which turned out to be just nothing, which they +were ready to swear to. One believed Father Flaherty made the Bible, +another believed the Devil still chained in Columbia College—a third +believed the stars were lanterns to guide priests—the only angels they +know—on their way to heaven."</p> + +<p>"Truly!" exclaims the man of the spectacles, in a moment of abstraction.</p> + +<p>Brother Spyke says: "the Lord be merciful."</p> + +<p>"On the body of the poor man we found this document. It was rolled +carefully up in a rag, and is supposed to throw some light on his +history." Mr. Fitzgerald draws leisurely from his pocket a distained and +much-crumpled paper, written over in a bold, business-like hand, and +passes it to the man in the spectacle, as a dozen or more anxious faces +gather round, eager to explore the contents.</p> + +<p>"He went out of the Points as mysteriously as he came in. We buried him +a bit ago, and have got Downey in the Tombs: he'll be hanged, no doubt," +concludes the detective, laying aside his cap, and setting himself, +uninvited, into a chair. The man in the spectacles commences reading the +paper, which runs as follows:</p> + +<p>"I have been to you an unknown, and had died such an unknown, but that +my conscience tells me I have a duty to perform. I have wronged no one, +owe no one a penny, harbor no malice against any one; I am a victim of a +broken heart, and my own melancholy. Many years ago I pursued an +honorable business in this city, and was respected and esteemed. Many +knew me, and fortune seemed to shed upon me her smiles. I married a lady +of wealth and affluence, one I loved and doted on. Our affections seemed +formed for our bond; we lived for one another; our happiness seemed +complete. But alas! an evil hour came. Ambitious of admiration, she +gradually became a slave to fashionable society, and then gave herself +up to those flatterers who hang about it, and whose chief occupation it +is to make weak-minded women vain of their own charms. Coldness, and +indifference to home, soon followed. My house was invaded, my home—that +home I regarded so sacredly—became the resort of men in whose society I +found no pleasure, with whom I had no feeling in common. I could not +remonstrate, for that would have betrayed in me a want of confidence in +the fidelity of one I loved too blindly. I was not one of those who make +life miserable in seeing a little and suspecting much. No! I forgave +many things that wounded my feelings; and my love for her would not +permit a thought to invade the sanctity of her fidelity. Business +called me into a foreign country, where I remained several months, then +returned—not, alas! to a home made happy by the purity of one I +esteemed an angel;—not to the arms of a pure, fond wife, but to find my +confidence betrayed, my home invaded—she, in whom I had treasured up my +love, polluted; and slander, like a desert wind, pouring its desolating +breath into my very heart. In my blindness I would have forgiven her, +taken her back to my distracted bosom, and fled with her to some distant +land, there still to have lived and loved her. But she sought rather to +conceal her guilt than ask forgiveness. My reason fled me, my passion +rose above my judgment, I sank under the burden of my sorrow, attempted +to put an end to her life, and to my own misery. Failing in this, for my +hand was stayed by a voice I heard calling to me, I fled the country and +sought relief for my feelings in the wilds of Chili. I left nearly all +to my wife, took but little with me, for my object was to bury myself +from the world that had known me, and respected me. Destitution followed +me; whither I went there seemed no rest, no peace of mind for me. The +past floated uppermost in my mind. I was ever recurring to home, to +those with whom I had associated, to an hundred things that had endeared +me to my own country. Years passed—years of suffering and sorrow, and I +found myself a lone wanderer, without friend or money. During this time +it was reported at home, as well as chronicled in the newspapers, that I +was dead. The inventor of this report had ends, I will not name them +here, to serve. I was indeed dead to all who had known me happy in this +world. Disguised, a mere shadow of what I was once, I wandered back to +New York, heart-sick and discouraged, and buried myself among those +whose destitution, worse, perhaps, than my own, afforded me a means of +consolation. My life has long been a burden to me; I have many times +prayed God, in his mercy, to take me away, to close the account of my +misery. Do you ask my name? Ah! that is what pains me most. To live +unknown, a wretched outcast, in a city where I once enjoyed a name that +was respected, is what has haunted my thoughts, and tortured my +feelings. But I cannot withhold it, even though it has gone down, +tainted and dishonored. It is Henry Montford. And with this short record +I close my history, leaving the rest for those to search out who find +this paper, at my death, which cannot be long hence.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 25em;" > +"<span class="smcap">Henry Montford.</span></p> +<p> +"<i>New York, Nov. —, 184-.</i>" +</p> + +<p>A few sighs follow the reading of the paper, but no very deep interest, +no very tender emotion, is awakened in the hearts of the goodly. +Nevertheless, it throws a flood of light upon the morals of a class of +society vulgarly termed fashionable. The meek females hold their tears +and shake their heads. Brother Spyke elongates his lean figure, draws +near, and says the whole thing is very unsatisfactory. Not one word is +let drop about the lost money.</p> + +<p>Brother Phills will say this—that the romance is very cleverly got up, +as the theatre people say.</p> + +<p>The good-natured fat man, breathing somewhat freer, says: "Truly! these +people have a pleasant way of passing out of the world. They die of +their artful practices—seeking to devour the good and the generous."</p> + +<p>"There's more suffers than imposes—an' there's more than's written +meant in that same bit of paper. Toddleworth was as inoffensive a +creature as you'd meet in a day. May God forgive him all his faults;" +interposes Mr. Detective Fitzgerald, gathering up his cap and passing +slowly out of the room.</p> + +<p>And this colloquy is put an end to by the sudden appearance of Sister +Slocum. A rustling silk dress, of quiet color, and set off with three +modest flounces; an India shawl, loosely thrown over her shoulders; a +dainty little collar, of honiton, drawn neatly about her neck, and a +bonnet of buff-colored silk, tastefully set off with tart-pie work +without, and lined with virtuous white satin within, so saucily poised +on her head, suggests the idea that she has an eye to fashion as well as +the heathen world. Her face, too, always so broad, bright, and +benevolent in its changes—is chastely framed in a crape border, so +nicely crimped, so nicely tucked under her benevolent chin at one end, +and so nicely pinned under the virtuous white lining at the other. +Goodness itself radiates from those large; earnest blue eyes, those +soft, white cheeks, that large forehead, with those dashes of silvery +hair crossing it so smoothly and so exactly—that well-developed, but +rather broad nose, and that mouth so expressive of gentleness.</p> + +<p>Sister Slocum, it requires no very acute observer to discover, has got +something more than the heathen world at heart, for all those soft, +congenial features are shadowed with sadness. Silently she takes her +seat, sits abstracted for a few minutes—the house is thrown into a +wondering mood—then looks wisely through her spectacles, and having +folded her hands with an air of great resignation, shakes, and shakes, +and shakes her head. Her eyes suddenly fill with tears, her thoughts +wander, or seem to wander, she attempts to speak, her voice chokes, and +the words hang upon her lips. All is consternation and excitement. +Anxious faces gather round, and whispering voices inquire the cause. The +lean man in the spectacles having applied his hartshorn bottle, Sister +Slocum, to the great joy of all present, is so far restored as to be +able to announce the singular, but no less melancholy fact, that our +dear guest, Sister Swiggs, has passed from this world to a better. She +retired full of sorrow, but came not in the morning. And this so +troubled Sister Scudder that there was no peace until she entered her +room. But she found the angel had been there before her, smoothed the +pillow of the stranger, and left her to sleep in death. On earth her +work was well done, and in the arms of the angel, her pure spirit now +beareth witness in heaven. Sister Slocum's emotions forbid her saying +more. She concludes, and buries her face in her cambric. Then an +outpouring of consoling words follow. "He cometh like a thief in the +night: His works are full of mystery; truly, He chasteneth; He giveth +and taketh away." Such are a few of the sentiments lisped, regrettingly, +for the departed.</p> + +<p>How vain are the hopes with which we build castles in the air; how +strange the motives that impel us to ill-advised acts. We leave +untouched the things that call loudest for our energies, and treasure up +our little that we may serve that which least concerns us. In this +instance it is seen how that which came of evil went in evil; how +disappointment stepped in and blew the castle down at a breath.</p> + +<p>There could not be a doubt that the disease of which Sister Smiggs +died, and which it is feared the State to which she belongs will one day +die, was little dignity. Leaving her then in the arms of the House of +the Foreign Mission, and her burial to the Secretary of the very +excellent "Tract Society" she struggled so faithfully to serve, we close +this chapter of events, the reader having, no doubt, discovered the +husband of Madame Montford in the wretched man, Mr. Toddleworth.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h3>CHAPTER XXXIV.</h3> + +<p class='center' style='font-size:smaller;'>THE TWO PICTURES.</p> + + +<p>We come now to another stage of this history. Six months have glided +into the past since the events recorded in the foregoing chapter. The +political world of Charleston is resolved to remain in the Union a few +months longer. It is a pleasant evening in early May. The western sky is +golden with the setting sun, and the heavens are filled with battlements +of refulgent clouds, now softening away into night. Yonder to the East, +reposes a dark grove. A gentle breeze fans through its foliage, the +leaves laugh and whisper, the perfumes of flowers are diffusing through +the air birds make melodious with their songs, the trilling stream +mingles its murmurs, and nature would seem gathering her beauties into +one enchanting harmony. In the foreground of the grove, and looking as +if it borrowed solitude of the deep foliage, in which it is half buried, +rises a pretty villa, wherein may be seen, surrounded by luxuries the +common herd might well envy, the fair, the beautiful siren, Anna Bonard. +In the dingy little back parlor of the old antiquary, grim poverty +looking in through every crevasse, sits the artless and pure-minded +Maria McArthur. How different are the thoughts, the hopes, the emotions +of these two women. Comfort would seem smiling on the one, while +destitution threatens the other. To the eye that looks only upon the +surface, how deceptive is the picture. The one with every wish +gratified, an expression of sorrow shadowing her countenance, and that +freshness and sweetness for which she was distinguished passing away, +contemplates herself a submissive captive, at the mercy of one for whom +she has no love, whose gold she cannot inherit, and whose roof she must +some day leave for the street. The other feels poverty grasping at her, +but is proud in the possession of her virtue; and though trouble would +seem tracing its lines upon her features, her heart remains untouched by +remorse;—she is strong in the consciousness that when all else is gone, +her virtue will remain her beacon light to happiness. Anna, in the loss +of that virtue, sees herself shut out from that very world that points +her to the yawning chasm of her future; she feels how like a slave in +the hands of one whose heart is as cold as his smiles are false, she is. +Maria owes the world no hate, nor are her thoughts disturbed by such +contemplations. Anna, with embittered and remorseful feelings—with dark +and terrible passions agitating her bosom, looks back over her eventful +life, to a period when even her own history is shut to her, only to find +the tortures of her soul heightened. Maria looks back upon a life of +fond attachment to her father, to her humble efforts to serve others, +and to know that she has borne with Christian fortitude those ills which +are incident to humble life. With her, an emotion of joy repays the +contemplation. To Anna, the future is hung in dark forebodings. She +recalls to mind the interview with Madame Montford, but that only tends +to deepen the storm of anguish the contemplation of her parentage +naturally gives rise to. With Maria, the present hangs dark and the +future brightens. She thinks of the absent one she loves—of how she can +best serve her aged father, and how she can make their little home +cheerful until the return of Tom Swiggs, who is gone abroad. It must be +here disclosed that the old man had joined their hands, and invoked a +blessing on their heads, ere Tom took his departure. Maria looks forward +to the day of his return with joyous emotions. That return is the day +dream of her heart; in it she sees her future brightening. Such are the +cherished thoughts of a pure mind. Poverty may gnaw away at the +hearthstone, cares and sorrow may fall thick in your path, the rich may +frown upon you, and the vicious sport with your misfortunes, but virtue +gives you power to overcome them all. In Maria's ear something whispers: +Woman! hold fast to thy virtue, for if once it go neither gold nor false +tongues can buy it back.</p> + +<p>Anna sees the companion of her early life, and the sharer of her +sufferings, shut up in a prison, a robber, doomed to the lash. "He was +sincere to me, and my only true friend—am I the cause of this?" she +muses. Her heart answers, and her bosom fills with dark and stormy +emotions. One small boon is now all she asks. She could bow down and +worship before the throne of virgin innocence, for now its worth towers, +majestic, before her. It discovers to her the falsity of her day-dream; +it tells her what an empty vessel is this life of ours without it. She +knows George Mullholland loves her passionately; she knows how deep will +be his grief, how revengeful his feelings. It is poverty that fastens +the poison in the heart of the rejected lover. The thought of this +flashes through her mind. His hopeless condition, crushed out as it were +to gratify him in whose company her pleasures are but transitory, and +may any day end, darkens as she contemplates it. How can she acquit her +conscience of having deliberately and faithlessly renounced one who was +so true to her? She repines, her womanly nature revolts at the +thought—the destiny her superstition pictured so dark and terrible, +stares her in the face. She resolves a plan for his release, and, +relieved with a hope that she can accomplish it while propitiating the +friendship of the Judge, the next day seeks him in his prison cell, and +with all that vehemence woman, in the outpouring of her generous +impulses, can call to her aid, implores his forgiveness. But the rust of +disappointment has dried up his better nature; his heart is wrung with +the shafts of ingratitude—all the fierce passions of his nature, hate, +scorn and revenge, rise up in the one stormy outburst of his soul. He +casts upon her a look of withering scorn, the past of that life so +chequered flashes vividly through his thoughts, his hate deepens, he +hurls her from him, invokes a curse upon her head, and shuts her from +his sight. "Mine will be the retribution!" he says, knitting his dark +brow.</p> + +<p>How is it with the Judge—that high functionary who provides thus +sumptuously for his mistress? His morals, like his judgments, are +excused, in the cheap quality of our social morality.</p> + +<p>Such is gilded vice; such is humble virtue.</p> + +<p>A few days more and the term of the Sessions commences. George is +arraigned, and the honorable Mr. Snivel, who laid the plot, and +furthered the crime, now appears as a principal witness. He procures the +man's conviction, and listens with guilty heart to the sentence, for he +is rearraigned on sentence day, and Mr. Snivel is present. And while +the culprit is sentenced to two years imprisonment, and to receive +eighty lashes, laid on his bare back, while at the public whipping-post, +at four stated times, the man who stimulated the hand of the criminal, +is honored and flattered by society. Such is the majesty of the law.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h3>CHAPTER XXXV.</h3> + +<p class='center' style='font-size:smaller;'>IN WHICH A LITTLE LIGHT IS SHED UPON THE CHARACTER OF OUR CHIVALRY.</p> + + +<p>Mr. McArthur has jogged on, in the good old way but his worldly store +seems not to increase. The time, nevertheless, is arrived when he is +expected to return the little amount borrowed of Keepum, through the +agency of Mr. Snivel. Again and again has he been notified that he must +pay or go to that place in which we lock up all our very estimable +"first families," whose money has taken wings and flown away. Not +content with this, the two worthy gentlemen have more than once invaded +the Antiquary's back parlor, and offered, as we have described in a +former chapter, improper advances to his daughter.</p> + +<p>Mr. Keepum, dressed in a flashy coat, his sharp, mercenary face, hectic +of night revels, and his small but wicked eyes wandering over Mr. +McArthur's stock in trade, is seen in pursuit of his darling object. "I +don't mind so much about the pay, old man! I'm up well in the world. The +fact is, I am esteemed—and I am!—a public benefactor. I never forget +how much we owe to the chivalric spirit of our ancestors, and in dealing +with the poor—money matters and politics are different from anything +else—I am too generous. I don't mind my own interests enough. There it +is!" Mr. Keepum says this with an evident relief to himself. Indeed it +must here be acknowledged that this very excellent member of the St. +Cecilia Society, and profound dealer in lottery tickets, like our fine +gentlemen who are so scrupulous of their chivalry while stabbing men +behind their backs, fancies himself one of the most disinterested beings +known to generous nature.</p> + +<p>Bent and tottering, the old man recounts the value of his curiosities; +which, like our chivalry, is much talked of but hard to get at. He +offers in apology for the nonpayment of the debt his knowledge of the +old continentals, just as we offer our chivalry in excuse for every +disgraceful act—every savage law. In fine, he follows the maxims of our +politicians, recapitulating a dozen or more things (wiping the sweat +from his brow the while) that have no earthly connection with the +subject. "They are all very well," Mr. Keepum rejoins, with an air of +self-importance, dusting the ashes from his cigar. He only wishes to +impress the old man with the fact that he is his very best friend.</p> + +<p>And having somewhat relieved the Antiquary's mind of its apprehensions, +for McArthur stood in great fear of duns, Mr. Keepum pops, uninvited, +into the "back parlor," where he has not long been when Maria's screams +for assistance break forth.</p> + +<p>"Ah! I am old—there is not much left me now. Yes, I am old, my +infirmities are upon me. Pray, good man, spare me my daughter. Nay, you +must not break the peace of my house;" mutters the old man, advancing +into the room, with infirm step, and looking wistfully at his daughter, +as if eager to clasp her in his arms. Maria stands in a defiant +attitude, her left hand poised on a chair, and her right pointing +scornfully in the face of Keepum, who recoils under the look of +withering scorn that darkens her countenance. "A gentleman! begone, +knave! for your looks betray you. You cannot buy my ruin with your gold; +you cannot deceive me with your false tongue. If hate were a noble +passion, I would not vent that which now agitates my bosom on you. Nay, +I would reserve it for a better purpose—"</p> + +<p>"Indeed, indeed—now I say honestly, your daughter mistakes me. I was +only being a little friendly to her," interrupts the chopfallen man. He +did not think her capable of summoning so much passion to her aid.</p> + +<p>Maria, it must be said, was one of those seemingly calm natures in which +resentment takes deepest root, in which the passions are most violent +when roused. Solitude does, indeed, tend to invest the passionate nature +with a calm surface. A less penetrating observer than the chivalrous +Keepum, might have discovered in Maria a spirit he could not so easily +humble to his uses. It is the modest, thoughtful woman, you cannot make +lick the dust in sorrow and tears. "Coward! you laid ruffian hands on +me!" says Maria, again towering to her height, and giving vent to her +feelings.</p> + +<p>"Madam, Madam," pursues Keepum, trembling and crouching, "you asperse my +honor,—my sacred honor, Madam. You see—let me say a word, now—you are +letting your temper get the better of you. I never, and the public know +I never did—I never did a dishonorable thing in my life." Turning to +the bewildered old man, he continues: "to be called a knave, and +upbraided in this manner by your daughter, when I have befriended you +all these days!" His wicked eyes fall guilty to the floor.</p> + +<p>"Out man!—out! Let your sense of right, if you have it, teach you what +is friendship. Know that, like mercy, it is not poured out with hands +reeking of female dishonor."</p> + +<p>Mr. Keepum, like many more of our very fine gentlemen, had so trained +his thoughts to look upon the poor as slaves created for a base use, +that he neither could bring his mind to believe in the existence of such +things as noble spirits under humble roofs, nor to imagine himself—even +while committing the grossest outrages—doing aught to sully the high +chivalric spirit he fancied he possessed. The old Antiquary, on the +other hand, was not a little surprised to find his daughter displaying +such extraordinary means of repulsing an enemy.</p> + +<p>Trembling, and childlike he stands, conscious of being in the grasp of a +knave, whose object was more the ruin of his daughter than the recovery +of a small amount of money, the tears glistening in his eyes, and the +finger of old age marked on his furrowed brow.</p> + +<p>"Father, father!" says Maria, and the words hang upon her quivering +lips, her face becomes pale as marble, her strength deserts her,—she +trembles from head to foot, and sinks upon the old man's bosom, +struggling to smother her sobs. Her passion has left her; her calmer +nature has risen up to rebuke it. The old man leads her tenderly to the +sofa, and there seeks to sooth her troubled spirit.</p> + +<p>"As if this hub bub was always to last!" a voice speaks suddenly. It is +the Hon. Mr. Snivel, who looks in at the eleventh hour, as he says, to +find affairs always in a fuss. "Being a man of legal knowledge—always +ready to do a bit of a good turn—especially in putting a disordered +house to rights—I thought it well to look in, having a leisure minute +or two (we have had a convention for dissolving the Union, and passed a +vote to that end!) to give to my old friends," Mr. Snivel says, in a +voice at once conciliating and insinuating. "I always think of a border +feud when I come here—things that find no favor with me." Mr. Snivel, +having first patted the old man on the shoulder, exchanges a significant +wink with his friend Keepum, and then bestows upon him what he is +pleased to call a little wholesome advice. "People misunderstand Mr. +Keepum," he says, "who is one of the most generous of men, but lacks +discretion, and in trying to be polite to everybody, lets his feelings +have too much latitude now and then." Maria buries her face in her +handkerchief, as if indifferent to the reconciliation offered.</p> + +<p>"Now let this all be forgotten—let friendship reign among friends: +that's my motto. But! I say,—this is a bad piece of news we have this +morning. Clipped this from an English paper," resumes the Hon. +gentleman, drawing coolly from his pocket a bit of paper, having the +appearance of an extract.</p> + +<p>"You are never without some kind of news—mostly bad!" says Keepum, +flinging himself into a chair, with an air of restored confidence. Mr. +Snivel bows, thanks the gentleman for the compliment, and commences to +read. "This news," he adds, "may be relied upon, having come from +Lloyd's List: 'Intelligence was received here (this is, you must +remember, from a London paper, he says, in parentheses) this morning, of +the total loss of the American ship ——, bound from this port for +Charleston, U.S., near the Needles. Every soul on board, except the +Captain and second mate, perished. The gale was one of the worst ever +known on this coast—'"</p> + +<p>"The worst ever known on this coast!" ejaculates Mr. Keepum, his wicked +eyes steadily fixed upon Maria. "One of Trueman's ships," Mr. Snivel +adds. "Unlucky fellow, that Trueman—second ship he has lost."</p> + +<p>"By-the-bye," rejoins Keepum, as if a thought has just flashed upon him, +"your old friend, Tom Swiggs, was supercargo, clerk, or whatever you may +call it, aboard that ship, eh?"</p> + +<p>It is the knave who can most naturally affect surprise and regret when +it suits his purposes, and Mr. Snivel is well learned in the art. +"True!" he says, "as I'm a Christian. Well, I had made a man of him—I +don't regret it, for I always liked him—and this is the end of the poor +fellow, eh?" Turning to McArthur, he adds, rather unconcernedly: "You +know somewhat of him?" The old man sits motionless beside his daughter, +the changes of whose countenance discover the inward emotions that +agitate her bosom. Her eyes fill with tears; she exchanges inquiring +glances, first with Keepum, then with Snivel; then a thought strikes her +that she received a letter from Tom, setting forth his prospects, and +his intention to return in the ship above named. It was very natural +that news thus artfully manufactured, and revealed with such apparent +truthfulness, should produce a deep impression in the mind of an +unsuspecting girl. Indeed, it was with some effort that she bore up +under it. Expressions of grief she would fain suppress before the enemy +gain a mastery over her—and ere they are gone the cup flows over, and +she sinks exhausted upon the sofa.</p> + +<p>"There! good as far as it goes. You have now another mode of gaining the +victory," Mr. Snivel whispers in the ear of his friend, Keepum; and the +two gentlemen pass into the street.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h3>CHAPTER XXXVI.</h3> + +<p class='center' style='font-size:smaller;'>IN WHICH A LAW IS SEEN TO SERVE BASE PURPOSES.</p> + + +<p>Maria has passed a night of unhappiness. Hopes and fears are knelling in +the morning, which brings nothing to relieve her anxiety for the absent +one; and Mr. Snivel has taken the precaution to have the news of the +lost ship find its way into the papers.</p> + +<p>And while our city seems in a state of very general excitement; while +great placards on every street corner inform the wondering stranger that +a mighty Convention (presided over by the Hon. S. Snivel) for dissolving +the Union, is shortly to be holden; while our political world has got +the Union on its shoulders, and threatens to throw it into the nearest +ditch; while our streets swarm with long, lean, and very hairy-faced +delegates (all lusty of war and secession), who have dragged themselves +into the city to drink no end of whiskey, and say all sorts of foolish +things their savage and half-civilized constituents are expected to +applaud; while our more material and conservative citizens are thinking +what asses we make of ourselves; while the ship-of-war we built to fight +the rest of the Union, lies an ugly lump in the harbor, and "won't go +over the bar;" while the "shoe-factory" we established to supply +niggerdom with soles, is snuffed out for want of energy and capacity to +manage it; while some of our non-slaveholding, but most active secession +merchants, are moving seriously in the great project of establishing a +"<span class="smcap">Southern Candle-factory</span>"—a thing much needed in the +"up-country;" while our graver statesmen (who don't get the State out of +the Union fast enough for the ignorant rabble, who have nothing but +their folly at stake) are pondering over the policy of spending five +hundred thousand dollars for the building of another war-ship—one that +"will go over the bar;" and while curiously-written letters from +Generals Commander and Quattlebum, offering to bring their allied forces +into the field—to blow this confederation down at a breath whenever +called upon, are being published, to the great joy of all secessiondom; +while saltpetre, broadswords, and the muskets made for us by Yankees to +fight Yankees, and which were found to have wood instead of flint in +their hammers, (and which trick of the Yankees we said was just like the +Yankees,) are in great demand—and a few of our mob-politicians, who are +all "Kern'ls" of regiments that never muster, prove conclusively our +necessity for keeping a fighting-man in Congress; while, we assert, many +of our first and best known families have sunk the assemblies of the St. +Cecilia in the more important question of what order of government will +best suit—in the event of our getting happily out of the Union!—our +refined and very exacting state of society;—whether an Empire or a +Monarchy, and whether we ought to set up a Quattlebum or Commander +dynasty?—whether the Bungle family or the Jungle family (both fighting +families) will have a place nearest the throne; what sort of orders will +be bestowed, who will get them, and what colored liveries will best +become us (all of which grave questions threaten us with a very +extensive war of families)?—while all these great matters find us in a +sea of trouble, there enters the curiosity-shop of the old Antiquary a +suspicious-looking individual in green spectacles.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Hardscrabble!" says the man, bowing and taking a seat, leisurely, +upon the decrepit sofa. Mr. McArthur returns his salutation, +contemplates him doubtingly for a minute, then resumes his fussing and +brushing.</p> + +<p>The small, lean figure; the somewhat seedy broadcloth in which it is +enveloped; the well-browned and very sharp features; the straight, +dark-gray hair, and the absent manner of Mr. Hardscrabble, might, with +the uninitiated, cause him to be mistaken for an "up-country" clergyman +of the Methodist denomination.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Hardscrabble? Mr. Hardscrabble? Mr. Hardscrabble?" muses the +Antiquary, canting his head wisely, "the Sheriff, as I'm a man of +years!"</p> + +<p>Mr. Hardscrabble comforts his eyes with his spectacles, and having +glanced vacantly over the little shop, as if to take an inventory of its +contents, draws from his breast-pocket a paper containing very ominous +seals and scrawls.</p> + +<p>"I'm reluctant about doing these things with an old man like you," Mr. +Hardscrabble condescends to say, in a sharp, grating voice; "but I have +to obey the demands of my office." Here he commences reading the paper +to the trembling old man, who, having adjusted his broad-bowed +spectacles, and arrayed them against the spectacles of Mr. Hardscrabble, +says he thinks it contains a great many useless recapitulations.</p> + +<p>Mr. Hardscrabble, his eyes peering eagerly through his glasses, and his +lower jaw falling and exposing the inner domain of his mouth, replies +with an—"Umph." The old Antiquary was never before called upon to +examine a document so confusing to his mind. Not content with a +surrender of his property, it demands his body into the bargain—all at +the suit of one Keepum. He makes several motions to go show it to his +daughter; but that, Mr. Hardscrabble thinks, is scarce worth while. "I +sympathize with you—knowing how frugal you have been through life. A +list of your effects—if you have one—will save a deal of trouble. I +fear (Mr. Hardscrabble works his quid) my costs will hardly come out of +them."</p> + +<p>"There's a fortune in them—if the love of things of yore—" The old man +hesitates, and shakes his head dolefully.</p> + +<p>"Yore!—a thing that would starve out our profession."</p> + +<p>"A little time to turn, you know. There's my stock of uniforms."</p> + +<p>"Well—I—know," Mr. Hardscrabble rejoins, with a drawl; "but I must +lock up the traps. Yes, I must lock you up, and sell you out—unless you +redeem before sale day; that you can't do, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>And while the old man totters into the little back parlor, and, giving +way to his emotions, throws himself upon the bosom of his fond daughter, +to whom he discloses his troubles, Mr. Hardscrabble puts locks and bolts +upon his curiosity-shop. This important business done, he leads the old +man away, and gives him a lodging in the old jail.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h3>CHAPTER XXXVII.</h3> + +<p class='center' style='font-size:smaller;'>A SHORT CHAPTER OF ORDINARY EVENTS.</p> + + +<p>To bear up against the malice of inexorable enemies is at once the gift +and the shield of a noble nature. And here it will be enough to say, +that Maria bore the burden of her ills with fortitude and resignation, +trusting in Him who rights the wronged, to be her deliverer. What took +place when she saw her aged father led away, a prisoner; what thoughts +invaded that father's mind when the prison bolt grated on his ear, and +he found himself shut from all that had been dear to him through life, +regard for the feelings of the reader forbids us recounting here.</p> + +<p>Naturally intelligent, Maria had, by close application to books, +acquired some knowledge of the world. Nor was she entirely ignorant of +those arts designing men call to their aid when seeking to effect the +ruin of the unwary female. Thus fortified, she fancied she saw in the +story of the lost ship a plot against herself, while the persecution of +her father was only a means to effect the object. Launched between hope +and fear, then—hope that her lover still lived, and that with his +return her day would brighten—fear lest the report might be founded in +truth, she nerves herself for the struggle. She knew full well that to +give up in despair—to cast herself upon the cold charities of a busy +world, would only be to hasten her downfall. Indeed, she had already +felt how cold, and how far apart were the lines that separated our rich +from our poor.</p> + +<p>The little back parlor is yet spared to Maria, and in it she may now be +seen plying at her needle, early and late. It is the only means left her +of succoring the parent from whom she has been so ruthlessly separated. +Hoping, fearing, bright to-day and dark to-morrow, willing to work and +wait—here she sits. A few days pass, and the odds and ends of the +Antiquary's little shop, like the "shirts" of the gallant Fremont, whom +we oppressed while poor, and essayed to flatter when a hero, are +gazetted under the head of "sheriff's sale." Hope, alas! brings no +comfort to Maria. Time rolls on, the month's rent falls due, her father +pines and sinks in confinement, and her needle is found inadequate to +the task undertaken. Necessity demands, and one by one she parts with +her few cherished mementos of the past, that she may save an aged father +from starvation.</p> + +<p>The "prisoner" has given notice that he will take the benefit of the +act—commonly called "an act for the relief of poor debtors." But before +he can reach this boon, ten days must elapse. Generous-minded +legislators, no doubt, intended well when they constructed this act, but +so complex are its provisions that any legal gentleman may make it a +very convenient means of oppression. And in a community where laws not +only have their origin in the passions of men, but are made to serve +popular prejudices—where the quality of justice obtained depends upon +the position and sentiments of him who seeks it,—the weak have no +chance against the powerful.</p> + +<p>The multiplicity of notices, citations, and schedules, necessary to the +setting free of this "poor debtor" (for these fussy officials must be +paid), Maria finds making a heavy drain on her lean purse.</p> + +<p>The Court is in session, and the ten days having glided away, the old +man is brought into "open Court" by two officials with long tipstaffs, +and faces looking as if they had been carefully pickled in strong +drinks. "Surely, now, they'll set me free—I can give them no more—I am +old and infirm—they have got all—and my daughter!" he muses within +himself. Ah! he little knows how uncertain a thing is the law.</p> + +<p>The Judge is engaged over a case in which two very fine old families are +disputing for the blood and bones of a little "nigger" girl. The +possession of this helpless slave, the Judge (he sits in easy dignity) +very naturally regards of superior importance when compared with the +freedom of a "poor debtor." He cannot listen to the story of +destitution—precisely what was sought by Keepum—to-day, and to-morrow +the Court adjourns for six months.</p> + +<p>The Antiquary is remanded back to his cell. No one in Court cares for +him; no one has a thought for the achings of that heart his release +would unburden; the sorrows of that lone girl are known only to herself +and the One in whom she puts her trust. She, nevertheless, seeks the old +man in his prison, and there comforts him as best she can.</p> + +<p>Five days more, and the "prisoner" is brought before the Commissioner +for Special Bail, who is no less a personage than the rosy-faced Clerk +of the Court, just adjourned. And here we cannot forbear to say, that +however despicable the object sought, however barren of right the plea, +however adverse to common humanity the spirit of the action, there is +always to be found some legal gentleman, true to the lower instincts of +the profession, ready to lend himself to his client's motives. And in +this instance, the cunning Keepum finds an excellent instrument of +furthering his ends, in one Peter Crimpton, a somewhat faded and rather +disreputable member of the learned profession. It is said of Crimpton, +that he is clever at managing cases where oppression rather than justice +is sought, and that his present client furnishes the larger half of his +practice.</p> + +<p>And while Maria, too sensitive to face the gaze of the coarse crowd, +pauses without, silent and anxious, listening one moment and hoping the +next will see her old father restored to her, the adroit Crimpton rises +to object to "the Schedule." To the end that he may substantiate his +objections, he proposes to examine the prisoner. Having no alternative, +the Commissioner grants the request.</p> + +<p>The old Antiquary made out his schedule with the aid of the good-hearted +jailer, who inserted as his effects, "<i>Necessary wearing apparel</i>." It +was all he had. Like the gallant Fremont, when he offered to resign his +shirts to his chivalric creditor, he could give them no more. A few +questions are put; the old man answers them with childlike simplicity, +then sits down, his trembling fingers wandering into his beard. Mr. +Crimpton produces his paper, sets forth his objections, and asks +permission to file them, that the case may come before a jury of +"Special Bail."</p> + +<p>Permission is granted. The reader will not fail to discover the object +of this procedure. Keepum hopes to continue the old man in prison, that +he may succeed in breaking down the proud spirit of his daughter.</p> + +<p>The Commissioner listens attentively to the reading of the objections. +The first sets forth that Mr. McArthur has a gold watch;<a name="FNanchor_7_7" id="FNanchor_7_7"></a><a href="#Footnote_7_7" class="fnanchor">[7]</a> the second, +that he has a valuable breastpin, said to have been worn by Lord +Cornwallis; and the third, that he has one Yorick's skull. All of these, +Mr. Crimpton regrets to say, are withheld from the schedule, which +virtually constitutes fraud. The facile Commissioner bows; the assembled +crowd look on unmoved; but the old man shakes his head and listens. He +is surprised to find himself accused of fraud; but the law gives him no +power to show his own innocence. The Judge of the Sessions was competent +to decide the question now raised, and to have prevented this reverting +to a "special jury"—this giving the vindictive plaintiff a means of +torturing his infirm victim. Had he but listened to the old man's tale +of poverty, he might have saved the heart of that forlorn girl many a +bitter pang.</p> + +<p>The motion granted, a day is appointed—ten days must elapse—for a +hearing before the Commissioner of "Special Bail," and his special jury. +The rosy-faced functionary, being a jolly and somewhat flexible sort of +man, must needs give his health an airing in the country. What is the +liberty of a poor white with us? Our Governor, whom we esteem singularly +sagacious, said it were better all our poor were enslaved, and this +opinion finds high favor with our first families. The worthy +Commissioner, in addition to taking care of his health, is expected to +make any number of speeches, full of wind and war, to several recently +called Secession Conventions. He will find time (being a General by +courtesy) to review the up-country militia, and the right and left +divisions of the South Carolina army. He will be feted by some few of +our most distinguished Generals, and lecture before the people of +Beaufort (a very noisy town of forty-two inhabitants, all heroes), to +whom he will prove the necessity of our State providing itself with an +independent steam navy.</p> + +<p>The old Antiquary is remanded back to jail—to wait the coming day. +Maria, almost breathless with anxiety, runs to him as he comes tottering +out of Court in advance of the official, lays her trembling hand upon +his arm, and looks inquiringly in his face. "Oh! my father, my +father!—released? released?" she inquires, with quivering lips and +throbbing heart. A forced smile plays over his time-worn face, he looks +upward, shakes his head in sorrow, and having patted her affectionately +on the shoulder, throws his arms about her neck and kisses her. That +mute appeal, that melancholy voucher of his sorrows, knells the painful +answer in her ears, "Then you are not free to come with me? Oh, father, +father!" and she wrings her hands and gives vent to her tears.</p> + +<p>"The time will come, my daughter, when my Judge will hear me—will judge +me right. My time will come soon—" And here the old man pauses, and +chokes with his emotions. Maria returns the old man's kiss, and being +satisfied that he is yet in the hands of his oppressors, sets about +cheering up his drooping spirits. "Don't think of me, father," she +says—"don't think of me! Let us put our trust in Him who can shorten +the days of our tribulation." She takes the old man's arm, and like one +who would forget her own troubles in her anxiety to relieve another, +supports him on his way back to prison.</p> + +<p>It is high noon. She stands before the prison gate, now glancing at the +serene sky, then at the cold, frowning walls, and again at the old pile, +as if contemplating the wearying hours he must pass within it. "Don't +repine—nerve yourself with resolution, and all will be well!" Having +said this with an air of confidence in herself, she throws her arms +about the old man's neck, presses him to her bosom, kisses and kisses +his wrinkled cheek, then grasps his hand warmly in her own. "Forget +those who persecute you, for it is good. Look above, father—to Him who +tempers the winds, who watches over the weak, and gives the victory to +the right!" She pauses, as the old man holds her hand in silence. "This +life is but a transient sojourn at best; full of hopes and fears, that, +like a soldier's dream, pass away when the battle is ended." Again she +fondly shakes his hand, lisps a sorrowing "good-bye," watches him, in +silence, out of sight, then turns away in tears, and seeks her home. +There is something so pure, so earnest in her solicitude for the old +man, that it seems more of heaven than earth.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h3>CHAPTER XXXVIII.</h3> + +<p class='center' style='font-size:smaller;'>A STORY WITHOUT WHICH THIS HISTORY WOULD BE FOUND WANTING.</p> + + +<p>On taking leave of her father, Maria, her heart overburdened with grief, +and her mind abstracted, turned towards the Battery, and continued, +slowly and sadly, until she found herself seated beneath a tree, looking +out upon the calm bay. Here, scarce conscious of those who were +observing her in their sallies, she mused until dusky evening, when the +air seemed hushed, and the busy hum of day was dying away in the +distance. The dark woodland on the opposite bank gave a bold border to +the soft picture; the ships rode sluggishly upon the polished waters; +the negro's touching song echoed and re-echoed along the shore; and the +boatman's chorus broke upon the stilly air in strains so dulcet. And as +the mellow shadows of night stole over the scene—as the heavens looked +down in all their sereneness, and the stars shone out, and twinkled, and +laughed, and danced upon the blue waters, and coquetted with the +moonbeams—for the moon was up, and shedding a halo of mystic light over +the scene—making night merry, nature seemed speaking to Maria in words +of condolence. Her heart was touched, her spirits gained strength, her +soul seemed in a loftier and purer atmosphere.</p> + +<p>"Poor, but virtuous—virtue ennobles the poor. Once gone, the world +never gives it back!" she muses, and is awakened from her reverie by a +sweet, sympathizing voice, whispering in her ear. "Woman! you are in +trouble,—linger no longer here, or you will fall into the hands of your +enemies." She looks up, and there stands at her side a young female, +whose beauty the angels might envy. The figure came upon her so suddenly +that she hesitates for a reply to the admonition.</p> + +<p>"Take this, it will do something toward relieving your wants (do not +open it now), and with this (she places a stiletto in her hand) you can +strike down the one who attempts your virtue. Nay, remember that while +you cling to that, you are safe—lose it, and you are gone forever. Your +troubles will soon end; mine are for a life-time. Yours find a +relaxation in your innocence; mine is seared into my heart with my own +shame. It is guilt—shame! that infuses into the heart that poison, for +which years of rectitude afford no antidote. Go quickly—get from this +lone place! You are richer than me." She slips something into Maria's +hand, and suddenly disappears.</p> + +<p>Maria rises from her seat, intending to follow the stranger, but she is +out of sight. Who can this mysterious messenger, this beautiful stranger +be? Maria muses. A thought flashes across her mind; it is she who sought +our house at midnight, when my father revealed her dark future! "Yes," +she says to herself, "it is the same lovely face; how oft it has flitted +in my fancy!"</p> + +<p>She reaches her home only to find its doors closed against her. A +ruthless landlord has taken her all, and forced her into the street.</p> + +<p>You may shut out the sterner sex without involving character or inviting +insult; but with woman the case is very different. However pure her +character, to turn her into the street, is to subject her to a stigma, +if not to fasten upon her a disgrace. You may paint, in your +imagination, the picture of a woman in distress, but you can know little +of the heart-achings of the sufferer. The surface only reflects the +faint gleams, standing out here and there like the lesser objects upon a +dark canvas.</p> + +<p>Maria turns reluctantly from that home of so many happy associations, to +wander about the streets and by-ways of the city. The houses of the rich +seem frowning upon her; her timid nature tells her they have no doors +open to her. The haunts of the poor, at this moment, infuse a sanguine +joyousness into her soul. How glad would she be, if they did but open to +her. Is not the Allwise, through the beauties of His works, holding her +up, while man only is struggling to pull her down?</p> + +<p>And while Maria wanders homeless about the streets of Charleston, we +must beg you, gentle reader, to accompany us into one of the great +thoroughfares of London, where is being enacted a scene appertaining to +this history.</p> + +<p>It is well-nigh midnight, the hour when young London is most astir in +his favorite haunts; when ragged and well-starved flower-girls, issuing +from no one knows where, beset your path through Trafalgar and Liecester +squares, and pierce your heart with their pleadings; when the Casinoes +of the Haymarket and Picadilly are vomiting into the streets their frail +but richly-dressed women; when gaudy supper-rooms, reeking of lobster +and bad liquor, are made noisy with the demands of their +flauntily-dressed customers; when little girls of thirteen are dodging +in and out of mysterious courts and passages leading to and from +Liecester square; when wily cabmen, ranged around the "great globe," +importune you for a last fare; and when the aristocratic swell, with +hectic face and maudlin laugh, saunters from his club-room to seek +excitement in the revels at Vauxhall.</p> + +<p>A brown mist hangs over the dull area of Trafalgar square. The bells of +old St. Martin's church have chimed merrily out their last night peal; +the sharp voice of the omnibus conductor no longer offends the ear; the +tiny little fountains have ceased to give out their green water; and the +lights of the Union Club on one side, and Morley's hotel on the other, +throw pale shadows into the open square.</p> + +<p>The solitary figure of a man, dressed in the garb of a gentleman, is +seen sauntering past Northumberland house, then up the east side of the +square. Now he halts at the corner of old St. Martin's church, turns and +contemplates the scene before him. On his right is that squatty mass of +freestone and smoke, Englishmen exultingly call the Royal Academy, but +which Frenchmen affect contempt for, and uninitiated Americans mistake +for a tomb. An equestrian statue of one of the Georges rises at the east +corner; Morley's Hotel, where Americans get poor fare and enormous +charges, with the privilege of fancying themselves quite as good as the +queen, on the left; the dead walls of Northumberland House, with their +prisonlike aspect, and the mounted lion, his tail high in air, and quite +as rigid as the Duke's dignity, in front; the opening that terminates +the Strand, and gives place to Parliament street, at the head of which +an equestrian statue of Charles the First, much admired by Englishmen, +stands, his back on Westminster; the dingy shops of Spring Garden, and +the Union Club to the right; and, towering high over all, Nelson's +Column, the statue looking as if it had turned its back in pity on the +little fountains, to look with contempt, first upon the bronze face of +the unfortunate Charles, then upon Parliament, whose parsimony in +withholding justice from his daughter, he would rebuke—and the picture +is complete.</p> + +<p>The stranger turns, walks slowly past the steps of St. Martin's church, +crosses to the opposite side of the street, and enters a narrow, wet, +and dimly-lighted court, on the left. Having passed up a few paces, he +finds himself hemmed in between the dead walls of St. Martin's +"Work-house" on one side, and the Royal Academy on the other. He +hesitates between fear and curiosity. The dull, sombre aspect of the +court is indeed enough to excite the fears of the timid; but curiosity +being the stronger impulse, he proceeds, resolved to explore it—to see +whence it leads.</p> + +<p>A short turn to the right, and he has reached the front wall of the +Queen's Barracks, on his left, and the entrance to the "Work-house," on +his right; the one overlooking the other, and separated by a narrow +street. Leave men are seen reluctantly returning in at the night-gate; +the dull tramp of the sentinel within sounds ominously on the still air; +and the chilly atmosphere steals into the system. Again the stranger +pauses, as if questioning the safety of his position. Suddenly a low +moan grates upon his ear, he starts back, then listens. Again it rises, +in a sad wail, and pierces his very heart. His first thought is, that +some tortured mortal is bemoaning his bruises in a cell of the +"Work-house," which he mistakes for a prison. But his eyes fall to the +ground, and his apprehensions are dispelled.</p> + +<p>The doors of the "Work-house" are fast closed; but there, huddled along +the cold pavement, and lying crouched upon its doorsteps, in heaps that +resemble the gatherings of a rag-seller, are four-and-thirty shivering, +famishing, and homeless human beings—<a name="FNanchor_8_8" id="FNanchor_8_8"></a><a href="#Footnote_8_8" class="fnanchor">[8]</a> (mostly young girls and aged +women), who have sought at this "institution of charity" shelter for the +night, and bread to appease their hunger.<a name="FNanchor_9_9" id="FNanchor_9_9"></a><a href="#Footnote_9_9" class="fnanchor">[9]</a> Alas! its ruthless keepers +have refused them bread, shut them into the street, and left them in +rags scarce sufficient to cover their nakedness, to sleep upon the cold +stones, a mute but terrible rebuke to those hearts that bleed over the +sorrows of Africa, but have no blood to give out when the object of pity +is a poor, heart-sick girl, forced to make the cold pavement her bed. +The stranger shudders. "Are these heaps of human beings?" he questions +within himself, doubting the reality before him. As if counting and +hesitating what course to pursue for their relief, he paces up and down +the grotesque mass, touching one, and gazing upon the haggard features +of another, who looks up to see what it is that disturbs her. Again the +low moan breaks on his ear, as the sentinel cries the first hour of +morning. The figure of a female, her head resting on one of the steps, +moves, a trembling hand steals from under her shawl, makes an effort to +reach her head, and falls numb at her side. "Her hand is cold—her +breathing like one in death—oh! God!—how terrible—what, what am I to +do?" he says, taking the sufferer's hand in his own. Now he rubs it, now +raises her head, makes an effort to wake a few of the miserable +sleepers, and calls aloud for help. "Help! help! help!" he shouts, and +the shout re-echoes through the air and along the hollow court. "A woman +is dying,—dying here on the cold stones—with no one to raise a hand +for her!" He seizes the exhausted woman in his arms, and with herculean +strength rushes up the narrow street, in the hope of finding relief at +the Gin Palace he sees at its head, in a blaze of light. But the body is +seized with spasms, an hollow, hysteric wail follows, his strength gives +way under the burden, and he sets the sufferer down in the shadow of a +gas light. Her dress, although worn threadbare, still bears evidence of +having belonged to one who has enjoyed comfort, and, perhaps, luxury. +Indeed, there is something about the woman which bespeaks her not of the +class generally found sleeping on the steps of St. Martin's Work-house.</p> + +<p>"What's here to do?" gruffly inquires a policeman, coming up with an air +of indifference. The stranger says the woman is dying. The policeman +stoops down, lays his hand upon her temples, then mechanically feels her +arms and hands.</p> + +<p>"And I—must die—die—die in the street," whispers the woman, her head +falling carelessly from the policeman's hand, in which it had rested.</p> + +<p>"Got her a bit below, at the Work'ouse door, among them wot sleeps +there, eh?"</p> + +<p>The stranger says he did.</p> + +<p>"A common enough thing," pursues the policeman; "this a bad lot. Anyhow, +we must give her a tow to the station." He rubs his hands, and prepares +to raise her from the ground.</p> + +<p>"Hold! hold," interrupts the other, "she will die ere you get her +there."</p> + +<p>"Die,—ah! yes, yes," whispers the woman. The mention of death seems to +have wrung like poison into her very soul. "Don't—don't move me—the +spell is almost broken. Oh! how can I die here, a wretch. Yes, I am +going now—let me rest, rest, rest," the moaning supplicant mutters in a +guttural voice, grasps spasmodically at the policeman's hand, heaves a +deep sigh, and sets her eyes fixedly upon the stranger. She seems +recognizing in his features something that gives her strength.</p> + +<p>"There—there—there!" she continues, incoherently, as a fit of +hysterics seize upon her; "you, you, you, have—yes, you have come at +the last hour, when my sufferings close. I see devils all about +me—haunting me—torturing my very soul—burning me up! See them! see +them!—here they come—tearing, worrying me—in a cloud of flame!" She +clutches with her hands, her countenance fills with despair, and her +body writhes in agony.</p> + +<p>"Bring brandy! warm,—stimulant! anything to give her strength! Quick! +quick!—go fetch it, or she is gone!" stammers out the stranger.</p> + +<p>In another minute she calms away, and sinks exhausted upon the pavement. +Policeman shakes his head, and says, "It 'ont do no good—she's done +for."</p> + +<p>The light of the "Trumpeter's Arms" still blazes into the street, while +a few greasy ale-bibbers sit moody about the tap-room.</p> + +<p>The two men raise the exhausted woman from the ground and carry her to +the door. Mine host of the Trumpeter's Arms shrugs his shoulders and +says, "She can't come in here." He fears she will damage the +respectability of his house. "The Work-house is the place for her," he +continues, gruffly.</p> + +<p>A sight at the stranger's well-filled purse, however, and a few +shillings slipped into the host's hand, secures his generosity and the +woman's admittance. "Indeed," says the host, bowing most servilely, +"gentlemen, the whole Trumpeter's Arms is at your service." The woman is +carried into a lonely, little back room, and laid upon a cot, which, +with two wooden chairs, constitutes its furniture. And while the +policeman goes in search of medical aid, the host of the Trumpeter's +bestirs himself right manfully in the forthcoming of a stimulant. The +stranger, meanwhile, lends himself to the care of the forlorn sufferer +with the gentleness of a woman. He smoothes her pillow, arranges her +dress tenderly, and administers the stimulant with a hand accustomed to +the sick.</p> + +<p>A few minutes pass, and the woman seems to revive and brighten up. Mine +host has set a light on the chair, at the side of the cot, and left her +alone with the stranger. Slowly she opens her eyes, and with increasing +anxiety sets them full upon him. Their recognition is mutual. "Madame +Flamingo!" ejaculates the man, grasping her hand.</p> + +<p>"Tom Swiggs!" exclaims the woman, burying her face for a second, then +pressing his hand to her lips, and kissing it with the fondness of a +child, as her eyes swim in tears. "How strange to find you thus—" +continues Tom, for truly it is he who sits by the forlorn woman.</p> + +<p>"More strange," mutters the woman, shaking her head sorrowfully, "that I +should be brought to this terrible end. I am dying—I cannot last +long—the fever has left me only to die a neglected wretch. Hear +me—hear me, while I tell you the tale of my troubles, that others may +take warning. And may God give me strength. And you—if I have wronged +you, forgive me—it is all I can ask in this world." Here Tom +administers another draught of warm brandy and water, the influence of +which is soon perceptible in the regaining strength of the patient.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h3>CHAPTER XXXIX.</h3> + +<p class='center' style='font-size:smaller;'>A STORY WITH MANY COUNTERPARTS.</p> + + +<p>A very common story is this of Madame Flamingo's troubles. It has +counterparts enough, and though they may be traced to a class of society +less notorious than that with which she moved, are generally kept in the +dark chamber of hidden thoughts. We are indeed fast gaining an +unenviable fame for snobbery, for affecting to be what we never can be, +and for our sad imitation of foreign flunkydom, which, finding us rivals +in the realm of its tinsil, begins to button up its coat and look +contemptuously at us over the left shoulder. If, albeit, the result of +that passion for titles and plush (things which the empty-headed of the +old world would seem to have consigned to the empty-headed of the new), +which has of late so singularly discovered itself among our "best-known +families," could be told, it would unfold many a tale of misery and +betrayal. Pardon this digression, generous reader, and proceed with us +to the story of Madame Flamingo.</p> + +<p>"And now," says the forlorn woman, in a faint, hollow voice, "when my +ambition seemed served—I was ambitious, perhaps vain—I found myself +the victim of an intrigue. I ask forgiveness of Him who only can forgive +the wicked; but how can I expect to gain it?" She presses Tom's hand, +and pauses for a second. "Yes, I was ambitious," she continues, "and +there was something I wanted. I had money enough to live in comfort, +but the thought that it was got of vice and the ruin of others, weighed +me down. I wanted the respect of the world. To die a forgotten wretch; +to have the grave close over me, and if remembered at all, only with +execration, caused me many a dark thought." Here she struggles to +suppress her emotions. "I sought to change my condition; that, you see, +has brought me here. I married one to whom I intrusted my all, in whose +rank, as represented to me by Mr. Snivel, and confirmed by his friend, +the Judge, I confided. I hoped to move with him to a foreign country, +where the past would all be wiped out, and where the associations of +respectable society would be the reward of future virtue.</p> + +<p>"In London, where I now reap the fruits of my vanity, we enjoyed good +society for a time, were sought after, and heaped with attentions. But I +met those who had known me; it got out who I was; I was represented much +worse than I was, and even those who had flattered me in one sphere, did +not know me. In Paris it was the same. And there my husband said it +would not do to be known by his titles, for, being an exile, it might be +the means of his being recognized and kidnapped, and carried back a +prisoner to his own dear Poland. In this I acquiesced, as I did in +everything else that lightened his cares. Gradually he grew cold and +morose towards me, left me for days at a time, and returned only to +abuse and treat me cruelly. He had possession of all my money, which I +soon found he was gambling away, without gaining an entrée for me into +society.</p> + +<p>"From Paris we travelled, as if without any settled purpose, into Italy, +and from thence to Vienna, where I discovered that instead of being a +prince, my husband was an impostor, and I his dupe. He had formerly +been a crafty shoemaker; was known to the police as a notorious +character, who, instead of having been engaged in the political +struggles of his countrymen, had fled the country to escape the penalty +of being the confederate of a desperate gang of coiners and +counterfeiters. We had only been two days in Vienna when I found he had +disappeared, and left me destitute of money or friends. My connection +with him only rendered my condition more deplorable, for the police +would not credit my story; and while he eluded its vigilance, I was +suspected of being a spy in the confidence of a felon, and ruthlessly +ordered to leave the country."</p> + +<p>"Did not your passport protect you?" interrupts Tom, with evident +feeling.</p> + +<p>"No one paid it the least regard," resumes Madame Flamingo, becoming +weaker and weaker. "No one at our legations evinced sympathy for me. +Indeed, they all refused to believe my story. I wandered back from city +to city, selling my wardrobe and the few jewels I had left, and +confidently expecting to find in each place I entered, some one I had +known, who would listen to my story, and supply me with means to reach +my home. I could soon have repaid it, but my friends had gone with my +money; no one dare venture to trust me—no one had confidence in +me—every one to whom I appealed had an excuse that betrayed their +suspicion of me. Almost destitute, I found myself back in London—how I +got here, I scarce know—where I could make myself understood. My hopes +now brightened, I felt that some generous-hearted captain would give me +a passage to New York, and once home, my troubles would end. But being +worn down with fatigue, and my strength prostrated, a fever set in, and +I was forced to seek refuge in a miserable garret in Drury-Lane, and +where I parted with all but what now remains on my back, to procure +nourishment. I had begun to recover somewhat, but the malady left me +broken down, and when all was gone, I was turned into the street. Yes, +yes, yes, (she whispers,) they gave me to the streets; for twenty-four +hours I have wandered without nourishment, or a place to lay my head. I +sought shelter in a dark court, and there laid down to die; and when my +eyes were dim, and all before me seemed mysterious and dark with curious +visions, a hand touched me, and I felt myself borne away." Here her +voice chokes, she sinks back upon the pillow, and closes her eyes as her +hands fall careless at her side. "She breathes! she breathes yet!" says +Tom, advancing his ear to the pale, quivering lips of the wretched +woman. Now he bathes her temples with the vinegar from a bottle in the +hand of the host, who is just entered, and stands looking on, his +countenance full of alarm.</p> + +<p>"If she deys in my 'ouse, good sir, w'oat then?"</p> + +<p>"You mean the expense?"</p> + +<p>"Just so—it 'll be nae trifle, ye kno'!" The host shakes his head, +doubtingly. Tom begs he will not be troubled about that, and gives +another assurance from his purse that quite relieves the host's +apprehensions. A low, heavy breathing, followed by a return of spasms, +bespeaks the sinking condition of the sufferer. The policeman returns, +preceded by a physician—the only one to be got at, he says—in very +dilapidated broadcloth, and whose breath is rather strong of gin. "An' +whereabutes did ye pick the woman up,—an, an, wha's teu stond the +bill?" he inquires, in a deep Scotch brogue, then ordering the little +window opened, feels clumsily the almost pulseless hand. Encouraged on +the matter of his bill, he turns first to the host, then to Tom, and +says, "the wuman's nae much, for she's amast dede wi' exhaustion." And +while he is ordering a nostrum he knows can do no good, the woman makes +a violent struggle, opens her eyes, and seems casting a last glance +round the dark room. Now she sets them fixedly upon the ceiling, her +lips pale, and her countenance becomes spectre-like—a low, gurgling +sound is heard, the messenger of retribution is come—Madame Flamingo is +dead!</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h3>CHAPTER XL.</h3> + +<p class='center' style='font-size:smaller;'>IN WHICH THE LAW IS SEEN TO CONFLICT WITH OUR CHERISHED CHIVALRY.</p> + + +<p>"What could the woman mean, when on taking leave of me she said, 'you +are far richer than me?'" questions Maria McArthur to herself, when, +finding she is alone and homeless in the street, she opens the packet +the woman Anna slipped so mysteriously into her hand, and finds it +contains two twenty-dollar gold pieces. And while evolving in her mind +whether she shall appropriate them to the relief of her destitute +condition, her conscience smites her. It is the gold got of vice. Her +heart shares the impulse that prompted the act, but her pure spirit +recoils from the acceptance of such charity. "You are far richer than +me!" knells in her ears, and reveals to her the heart-burnings of the +woman who lives in licentious splendor. "I have no home, no friend near +me, and nowhere to lay my head; and yet I am richer than her;" she says, +gazing at the moon, and the stars, and the serene heavens. And the +contemplation brings to her consolation and strength. She wanders back +to the gate of the old prison, resolved to return the gold in the +morning, and, was the night not so far spent, ask admittance into the +cell her father occupies. But she reflects, and turns away; well knowing +how much more painful will be the smart of his troubles does she +disclose to him what has befallen her.</p> + +<p>She continues sauntering up a narrow by-lane in the outskirts of the +city. A light suddenly flashes across her path, glimmers from the window +of a little cabin, and inspires her with new hopes. She quickens her +steps, reaches the door, meets a welcome reception, and is made +comfortable for the night by the mulatto woman who is its solitary +tenant. The woman, having given Maria of her humble cheer, seems only +too anxious to disclose the fact that she is the slave and cast-off +mistress of Judge Sleepyhorn, on whose head she invokes no few curses. +It does not touch her pride so much that he has abandoned her, as that +he has taken to himself one of another color. She is tall and straight +of figure, with prominent features, long, silky black hair, and a rich +olive complexion; and though somewhat faded of age, it is clear that she +possessed in youth charms of great value in the flesh market.</p> + +<p>Maria discloses to her how she came in possession of the money, as also +her resolve to return it in the morning. Undine (for such is her name) +applauds this with great gusto. "Now, thar!" she says, "that's the +spirit I likes." And straightway she volunteers to be the medium of +returning the money, adding that she will show the hussy her contempt of +her by throwing it at her feet, and "letting her see a <i>slave</i> knows all +about it."</p> + +<p>Maria fully appreciates the kindness, as well as sympathizes with the +wounded pride of this slave daughter; nevertheless, there is an +humiliation in being driven to seek shelter in a negro cabin that +touches her feelings. For a white female to seek shelter under the roof +of a negro's cabin, is a deep disgrace in the eyes of our very refined +society; and having subjected herself to the humiliation, she knows full +well that it may be used against her—in fine, made a means to defame +her character.</p> + +<p>Night passes away, and the morning ushers in soft and sunny, but brings +with it nothing to relieve her situation. She, however, returns the gold +to Anna through a channel less objectionable than that Undine would have +supplied, and sallies out to seek lodgings. In a house occupied by a +poor German family, she seeks and obtains a little room, wherein she +continues plying at her needle.</p> + +<p>The day set apart for the trial before a jury of "special bail" arrives. +The rosy-faced commissioner is in his seat, a very good-natured jury is +impanelled, and the feeble old man is again brought into court. Maria +saunters, thoughtful, and anxious for the result, at the outer door. +Peter Crimpton rises, addresses the jury at great length, sets forth the +evident intention of fraud on the part of the applicant, and the +enormity of the crime. He will now prove his objections by competent +witnesses. The proceedings being in accordance with what Mr. Snivel +facetiously terms the strict rules of special pleading, the old man's +lips are closed. Several very respectable witnesses are called, and aver +they saw the old Antiquary with a gold watch mounted, at a recent date; +witnesses quite as dependable aver they have known him for many years, +but never mounted with anything so extravagant as a gold watch. So much +for the validity of testimony! It is very clear that the very +respectable witnesses have confounded some one else with the prisoner.</p> + +<p>The Antiquary openly confesses to the possession of a pin, and the +curious skull (neither of which are valuable beyond their associations), +but declares it more an oversight than an intention that they were left +out of the schedule. For the virtue of the schedule, Mr. Crimpton is +singularly scrupulous; nor does it soften his aspersions that the old +man offers to resign them for the benefit of the State. Mr. Crimpton +gives his case to the jury, expressing his belief that a verdict will be +rendered in his favor. A verdict of guilty (for so it is rendered in our +courts) will indeed give the prisoner to him for an indefinite period. +In truth, the only drawback is that the plaintiff will be required to +pay thirty cents a day to Mr. Hardscrabble, who will starve him rightly +soundly.</p> + +<p>The jury, very much to Mr. Crimpton's chagrin, remain seated, and +declare the prisoner not guilty. Was this sufficient—all the law +demanded? No. Although justice might have been satisfied, the law had +other ends to serve, and in the hands of an instrument like Crimpton, +could be turned to uses delicacy forbids our transcribing here. The old +man's persecutors were not satisfied; the verdict of the jury was with +him, but the law gave his enemies power to retain him six months longer. +Mr. Crimpton demands a writ of appeal to the sessions. The Commissioner +has no alternative, notwithstanding the character of the pretext upon +which it is demanded is patent on its face. Such is but a feeble +description of one of the many laws South Carolina retains on her +statute book to oppress the poor and give power to the rich. If we would +but purge ourselves of this distemper of chivalry and secession, that so +blinds our eyes to the sufferings of the poor, while driving our +politicians mad over the country (we verily believe them all coming to +the gallows or insane hospital), how much higher and nobler would be our +claim to the respect of the world!</p> + +<p>Again the old man is separated from his daughter, placed in the hands of +a bailiff, and remanded back to prison, there to hope, fear, and while +away the time, waiting six, perhaps eight months, for the sitting of the +Court of Appeals. The "Appeal Court," you must know, would seem to have +inherited the aristocracy of our ancestors, for, having a great aversion +to business pursuits, it sits at very long intervals, and gets through +very little business.</p> + +<p>When the news of her father's remand reaches Maria, it overwhelms her +with grief. Varied are her thoughts of how she shall provide for the +future; dark and sad are the pictures of trouble that rise up before +her. Look whichever way she will, her ruin seems sealed. The health of +her aged father is fast breaking—her own is gradually declining under +the pressure of her troubles. Rapidly forced from one extreme to +another, she appeals to a few acquaintances who have expressed +friendship for her father; but their friendship took wings when grim +poverty looked in. Southern hospitality, though bountifully bestowed +upon the rich, rarely condescends to shed its bright rays over the needy +poor.</p> + +<p>Maria advertises for a situation, in some of our first families, as +private seamstress. Our first families having slaves for such offices, +have no need of "poor white trash." She applies personally to several +ladies of "eminent standing," and who busy themselves in getting up +donations for northern Tract Societies. They have no sympathy to waste +upon her. Her appeal only enlists coldness and indifference. The "Church +Home" had lent an ear to her story, but that her address is very +unsatisfactory, and it is got out that she is living a very suspicious +life. The "Church Home," so virtuous and pious, can do nothing for her +until she improves her mode of living. Necessity pinches Maria at every +turn. "To be poor in a slave atmosphere, is truly a crime," she says to +herself, musing over her hard lot, while sitting in her chamber one +evening. "But I am the richer! I will rise above all!" She has just +prepared to carry some nourishment to her father, when Keepum enters, +his face flushed, and his features darkened with a savage scowl. "I have +said you were a fool—all women are fools!—and now I know I was not +mistaken!" This Mr. Keepum says while throwing his hat sullenly upon the +floor. "Well," he pursues, having seated himself in a chair, looked +designingly at the candle, then contorted his narrow face, and frisked +his fingers through his bright red hair, "as to this here wincing and +mincing—its all humbuggery of a woman like you. Affecting such morals! +Don't go down here; tell you that, my spunky girl. Loose morals is what +takes in poor folks."</p> + +<p>Maria answers him only with a look of scorn. She advances to the door to +find it locked.</p> + +<p>"It was me—I locked it. Best to be private about the matter," says +Keepum, a forced smile playing over his countenance.</p> + +<p>Unresolved whether to give vent to her passion, or make an effort to +inspire his better nature, she stands a few moments, as if immersed in +deep thought, then suddenly falls upon her knees at his feet, and +implores him to save her this last step to her ruin. "Hear me, oh, hear +me, and let your heart give out its pity for one who has only her virtue +left her in this world;" she appeals to him with earnest voice, and eyes +swimming in tears. "Save my father, for you have power. Give him his +liberty, that I, his child, his only comfort in his old age, may make +him happy. Yes! yes!—he will die where he is. Will you, can you—you +have a heart—see me struggle against the rude buffets of an unthinking +world! Will you not save me from the Poor-house—from the shame that +awaits me with greedy clutches, and receive in return the blessing of a +friendless woman! Oh!—you will, you will—release my father!—give him +back to me and make me happy. Ah, ha!—I see, I see, you have feelings, +better feelings—feelings that are not seared. You will have pity on me; +you will forgive, relent—you cannot see a wretch suffer and not be +moved to lighten her pain!" The calm, pensive expression that lights up +her countenance is indeed enough to inspire the tender impulses of a +heart in which every sense of generosity is not dried up.</p> + +<p>Her appeal, nevertheless, falls ineffectual. Mr. Keepum has no generous +impulses to bestow upon beings so sensitive of their virtue. With him, +it is a ware of very little value, inasmuch as the moral standard fixed +by a better class of people is quite loose. He rises from his chair with +an air of self-confidence, seizes her by the hand, and attempts to drag +her upon his knee, saying, "you know I can and will make you a lady. +Upon the honor of a gentleman, I love you—always have loved you; but +what stands in the way, and is just enough to make any gentleman of my +standing mad, is this here squeamishness—"</p> + +<p>"No! no! go from me. Attempt not again to lay your cruel hands upon me!" +The goaded woman struggles from his grasp, and shrieks for help at the +very top of her voice. And as the neighbors come rushing up stairs, Mr. +Keepum valorously betakes himself into the street. Maddened with +disappointment, and swearing to have revenge, he seeks his home, and +there muses over the "curious woman's" unswerving resolution. "Cruelty!" +he says to himself—"she charges me with cruelty! Well," (here he sighs) +"it's only because she lacks a bringing up that can appreciate a +gentleman." (Keepum could never condescend to believe himself less than +a very fine gentleman.) "As sure as the world the creature is somewhat +out in the head. She fancies all sorts of things—shame, disgrace, and +ruin!—only because she don't understand the quality of our +morality—that's all! There's no harm, after all, in these little +enjoyments—if the girl would only understand them so. Our society is +free from pedantry; and there—no damage can result where no one's the +wiser. It's like stealing a blush from the cheek of beauty—nobody +misses it, and the cheek continues as beautiful as ever." Thus +philosophizes the chivalric gentleman, until he falls into a fast +sleep.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h3>CHAPTER XLI.</h3> + +<p class='center' style='font-size:smaller;'>IN WHICH JUSTICE IS SEEN TO BE VERY ACCOMMODATING.</p> + + +<p>A few days have elapsed, Maria has just paid a visit to her father, +still in prison, and may be seen looking in at Mr. Keepum's office, in +Broad street. "I come not to ask a favor, sir; but, at my father's +request, to say to you that, having given up all he has in the world, it +can do no good to any one to continue him in durance, and to ask of +you—in whom the sole power rests—that you will grant him his release +ere he dies?" She addresses Mr. Keepum, who seems not in a very good +temper this morning, inasmuch as several of his best negroes, without +regard to their value to him, got a passion for freedom into their +heads, and have taken themselves away. In addition to this, he is much +put out, as he says, at being compelled to forego the pleasure held out +on the previous night, of tarring and feathering two northerners +suspected of entertaining sentiments not exactly straight on the +"peculiar question." A glorious time was expected, and a great deal of +very strong patriotism wasted; but the two unfortunate individuals, by +some means not yet discovered, got the vigilance committee, to whose +care they were entrusted, very much intoxicated, and were not to be +found when called for. Free knives, and not free speech, is our motto. +And this Mr. Keepum is one of the most zealous in carrying out.</p> + +<p>Mr. Keepum sits, his hair fretted back over his lean forehead, before a +table covered with papers, all indicating an immense business in lottery +and other speculations. Now he deposits his feet upon it; leans back in +his chair, puffs his cigar, and says, with an air of indifference to the +speaker: "I shall not be able to attend to any business of yours to-day, +Madam!" His clerk, a man of sturdy figure, with a broad, red face, and +dressed in rather dilapidated broadcloth, is passing in and out of the +front office, bearing in his fingers documents that require a signature +or mark of approval.</p> + +<p>"I only come, sir, to tell you that we are destitute—" Maria pauses, +and stands trembling in the doorway.</p> + +<p>"That's a very common cry," interrupts Keepum, relieving his mouth of +the cigar. "The affair is entirely out of my hands. Go to my attorney, +Peter Crimpton, Esq.,—what he does for you will receive my sanction. I +must not be interrupted to-day. I might express a thousand regrets; yes, +pass an opinion on your foolish pride, but what good would it do."</p> + +<p>And while Maria stands silent and hesitating, there enters the office +abruptly a man in the garb of a mechanic. "I have come," speaks the man, +in a tone of no very good humor, "for the last time. I asks of you—you +professes to be a gentleman—my honest rights. If the law don't give it +to me, I mean to take it with this erehand." (He shakes his hand at +Keepum.) "I am a poor man who ain't thought much of because I works for +a living; you have got what I had worked hard for, and lain up to make +my little family comfortable. I ask a settlement and my own—what is +due from one honest man to another!" He now approaches the table, +strikes his hand upon it, and pauses for a reply.</p> + +<p>Mr. Keepum coolly looks up, and with an insidious leer, says, "There, +take yourself into the street. When next you enter a gentleman's office, +learn to deport yourself with good manners."</p> + +<p>"Pshaw! pshaw!" interrupts the man. "What mockery! When men like +you—yes, I say men like you—that has brought ruin on so many poor +families, can claim to be gentlemen, rogues may get a patent for their +order." The man turns to take his departure, when the infuriated Keepum, +who, as we have before described, gets exceedingly put out if any one +doubts his honor, seizes an iron bar, and stealing up behind, fetches +him a blow over the head that fells him lifeless to the floor.</p> + +<p>Maria shrieks, and vaults into the street. The mass upon the floor +fetches a last agonizing shrug, and a low moan, and is dead. The +murderer stands over him, exultant, as the blood streams from the deep +fracture. In fine, the blood of his victim would seem rather to increase +his satisfaction at the deed, than excite a regret.</p> + +<p>Call you this murder? Truly, the man has outraged God's law. And the +lover of law and order, of social good, and moral honesty, would find +reasons for designating the perpetrator an assassin. For has he not +first distressed a family, and then left it bereft of its protector? You +may think of it and designate it as you please. Nevertheless we, in our +fancied mightiness, cannot condescend to such vulgar considerations. We +esteem it extremely courageous of Mr. Keepum, to defend himself "to the +death" against the insults of one of the common herd. Our first +families applaud the act, our sensitive press say it was "an unfortunate +affair," and by way of admonition, add that it were better working +people be more careful how they approach gentlemen. Mr. Snivel will call +this, the sublime quality of our chivalry. What say the jury of inquest?</p> + +<p>Duly weighing the high position of Mr. Keepum, and the very low +condition of the deceased, the good-natured jury return a verdict that +the man met his death in consequence of an accidental blow, administered +with an iron instrument, in the hands of one Keepum. From the +testimony—Keepum's clerk—it is believed the act was committed in +self-defence.</p> + +<p>Mr. Keepum, as is customary with our fine gentlemen, and like a hero (we +will not content ourselves with making him one jot less), magnanimously +surrenders himself to the authorities. The majesty of our laws is not +easily offended by gentlemen of standing. Only the poor and the helpless +slave can call forth the terrible majesty of the law, and quicken to +action its sensitive quality. The city is shocked that Mr. Keepum is +subjected to a night in jail, notwithstanding he has the jailer's best +parlor, and a barricade of champaign bottles are strewn at his feet by +flattering friends, who make night jubilant with their carousal.</p> + +<p>Southern society asks no repentance of him whose hands reek with the +blood of his poor victim; southern society has no pittance for that +family Keepum has made lick the dust in tears and sorrow. Even while we +write—while the corpse of the murdered man, followed by a few brother +craftsmen, is being borne to its last resting-place, the perpetrator, +released on a paltry bail, is being regaled at a festive board. Such is +our civilization! How had the case stood with a poor man! Could he have +stood up against the chivalry of South Carolina, scoffed at the law, or +bid good-natured justice close her eyes? No. He had been dragged to a +close cell, and long months had passed ere the tardy movements of the +law reached his case. Even then, popular opinion would have turned upon +him, pre-judged him, and held him up as dangerous to the peace of the +people. Yes, pliant justice would have affected great virtue, and +getting on her high throne, never ceased her demands until he had +expiated his crime at the gallows.</p> + +<p>A few weeks pass: Keepum's reputation for courage is fully endorsed, the +Attorney-General finds nothing in the act to justify him in bringing it +before a Grand Jury, the law is satisfied (or ought to be satisfied), +and the rich murderer sleeps without a pang of remorse.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h3>CHAPTER XLII.</h3> + +<p class='center' style='font-size:smaller;'>IN WHICH SOME LIGHT IS THROWN ON THE PLOT OF THIS HISTORY.</p> + + +<p>June, July, and August are past away, and September, with all its +autumnal beauties, ushers in, without bringing anything to lighten the +cares of that girl whose father yet pines in prison. She looks forward, +hoping against hope, to the return of her lover (something tells her he +still lives), only to feel more keenly the pangs of hope deferred.</p> + +<p>And now, once more, New York, we are in thy busy streets. It is a +pleasant evening in early September. The soft rays of an autumn sun are +tinging the western sky, and night is fast drawing her sable mantle over +the scene. In Washington Square, near where the tiny fountain jets its +stream into a round, grassy-bordered basin, there sits a man of middle +stature, apparently in deep study. His dress is plain, and might be +taken for that of either a working man, or a somewhat faded inspector of +customs. Heedless of those passing to and fro, he sits until night +fairly sets in, then rises, and faces towards the East. Through the +trunks of trees he sees, and seems contemplating the gray walls of the +University, and the bold, sombre front of the very aristocratic church +of the Reformed Dutch.</p> + +<p>"Well!" he mutters to himself, resuming his seat, and again facing to +the west, "this ere business of ourn is a great book of life—'tis that! +Finds us in queer places; now and then mixed up curiously." He rises a +second time, advances to a gas-light, draws a letter from his pocket, +and scans, with an air of evident satisfaction, over the contents. +"Umph!" he resumes, and shrugs his shoulders, "I was right on the +address—ought to have known it without looking." Having resumed his +seat, he returns the letter to his pocket, sits with his elbow upon his +knee, and his head rested thoughtfully in his right hand. The picture +before him, so calm and soft, has no attractions for him. The dusky hues +of night, for slowly the scene darkens, seem lending a softness and +calmness to the foliage. The weeping branches of the willow, +interspersed here and there, as if to invest the picture with a touching +melancholy, sway gently to and fro; the leaves of the silvery poplar +tremble and reflect their shadows on the fresh waters; and the flitting +gas-lights mingle their gleams, play and sport over the rippled surface, +coquet with the tripping star-beams, then throw fantastic lights over +the swaying foliage; and from beneath the massive branches of trees, +there shines out, in bold relief, the marble porticoes and lintels of +stately-looking mansions. Such is the calm grandeur of the scene, that +one could imagine some Thalia investing it with a poetic charm the gods +might muse over.</p> + +<p>"It is not quite time yet," says the man, starting suddenly to his feet. +He again approaches a gas-light, looks attentively at his watch, then +saunters to the corner of Fourth and Thompson streets. An old, +dilapidated wooden building, which some friend has whitewashed into +respectability, and looking as if it had a strong inclination to tumble +either upon the sidewalk, or against the great trunk of a hoary-headed +tree at the corner, arrests his attention. "Well," he says, having +paused before it, and scanned its crooked front, "this surely is the +house where the woman lived when she was given the child. Practice, and +putting two things together to find what one means, is the great thing +in our profession. Like its old tenant, the house has got down a deal. +It's on its last legs." Again he consults his watch, and with a +quickened step recrosses the Square, and enters —— Avenue. Now he +halts before a spacious mansion, the front of which is high and bold, +and deep, and of brown freestone. The fluted columns; the +elegantly-chiselled lintels; the broad, scrolled window-frames; the +exactly-moulded arches; the massive steps leading to the deep, vaulted +entrance, with its doors of sombre and highly-polished walnut; and its +bold style of architecture, so grand in its outlines,—all invest it +with a regal air. The man casts a glance along the broad avenue, then +into the sombre entrance of the mansion. Now he seems questioning within +himself whether to enter or retrace his steps. One-half of the outer +door, which is in the Italian style, with heavy fluted mouldings, stands +ajar; while from out the lace curtains of the inner, there steals a +faint light. The man rests his elbow on the great stone scroll of the +guard-rail, and here we leave him for a few moments.</p> + +<p>The mansion, it may be well to add here, remains closed the greater part +of the year; and when opened seems visited by few persons, and those not +of the very highest standing in society. A broken-down politician, a +seedy hanger-on of some "literary club," presided over by a rich, but +very stupid tailor, and now and then a lady about whose skirts something +not exactly straight hangs, and who has been elbowed out of fashionable +society for her too ardent love of opera-singers, and handsome actors, +may be seen dodging in now and then. Otherwise, the mansion would seem +very generally deserted by the neighborhood.</p> + +<p>Everybody will tell you, and everybody is an individual so extremely +busy in other people's affairs, that he ought to know, that there is +something that hangs so like a rain-cloud about the magnificent skirts +of those who live so secluded "in that fine old pile," (mansion,) that +the virtuous satin of the Avenue never can be got to "mix in." Indeed, +the Avenue generally seems to have set its face against those who reside +in it. They enjoy none of those very grand assemblies, balls, and +receptions, for which the Avenue is become celebrated, and yet they +luxuriate in wealth and splendor.</p> + +<p>Though the head of the house seems banished by society, society makes +her the subject of many evil reports and mysterious whisperings. The +lady of the mansion, however, as if to retort upon her traducers, makes +it known that she is very popular abroad, every now and then during her +absence honoring them with mysterious clippings from foreign +journals—all setting forth the admiration her appearance called forth +at a grand reception given by the Earl and Countess of ——.</p> + +<p>Society is made of inexorable metal, she thinks, for the prejudices of +the neighborhood have not relaxed one iota with time. That she has been +presented to kings, queens, and emperors; that she has enjoyed the +hospitalities of foreign embassies; that she has (and she makes no +little ado that she has) shone in the assemblies of prime ministers; +that she has been invited to court concerts, and been the flattered of +no end of fashionable <i>coteries</i>, serves her nothing at home. They are +events, it must be admitted, much discussed, much wondered at, much +regretted by those who wind themselves up in a robe of stern morality. +In a few instances they are lamented, lest the morals and manners of +those who make it a point to represent us abroad should reflect only the +brown side of our society.</p> + +<p>As if with regained confidence, the man, whom we left at the door +scroll, is seen slowly ascending the broad steps. He enters the vaulted +vestibule, and having touched the great, silver bell-knob of the inner +door, stands listening to the tinkling chimes within. A pause of several +minutes, and the door swings cautiously open. There stands before him +the broad figure of a fussy servant man, wedged into a livery quite like +that worn by the servants of an English tallow-chandler, but which, it +must be said, and said to be regretted, is much in fashion with our +aristocracy, who, in consequence of its brightness, believe it the exact +style of some celebrated lord. The servant receives a card from the +visitor, and with a bow, inquires if he will wait an answer.</p> + +<p>"I will wait the lady's pleasure—I came by appointment," returns the +man. And as the servant disappears up the hall, he takes a seat, +uninvited, upon a large settee, in carved walnut. "Something mysterious +about this whole affair!" he muses, scanning along the spacious hall, +into the conservatory of statuary and rare plants, seen opening away at +the extreme end. The high, vaulted roof; the bright, tesselated floor; +the taste with which the frescoes decorating the walls are designed; +the great winding stairs, so richly carpeted—all enhanced in beauty by +the soft light reflected upon them from a massive chandelier of stained +glass, inspire him with a feeling of awe. The stillness, and the air of +grandeur pervading each object that meets his eye, reminds him of the +halls of those mediæval castles he has read of in his youth. The servant +returns, and makes his bow. "My leady," he says, in a strong +Lincolnshire brogue, "'as weated ye an 'our or more."</p> + +<p>The visitor, evincing some nervousness, rises quickly to his feet, +follows the servant up the hall, and is ushered into a parlor of regal +dimensions, on the right. His eye falls upon one solitary occupant, who +rises from a lounge of oriental richness, and advances towards him with +an air of familiarity their conditions seem not to warrant. Having +greeted the visitor, and bid him be seated (he takes his seat, shyly, +beside the door), the lady resumes her seat in a magnificent chair. For +a moment the visitor scans over the great parlor, as if moved by the +taste and elegance of everything that meets his eye. The hand of art has +indeed been lavishly laid on the decorations of this chamber, which +presents a scene of luxury princes might revel in. And though the soft +wind of whispering silks seemed lending its aid to make complete the +enjoyment of the occupant, it might be said, in the words of Crabbe:</p> + +<p> +"But oh, what storm was in that mind!"<br /> +</p> + +<p>The person of the lady is in harmony with the splendor of the apartment. +Rather tall and graceful of figure, her complexion pale, yet soft and +delicate, her features as fine and regular as ever sculptor chiselled, +her manner gentle and womanly. In her face, nevertheless, there is an +expression of thoughtfulness, perhaps melancholy, to which her large, +earnest black eyes, and finely-arched brows, fringed with dark lashes, +lend a peculiar charm. While over all there plays a shadow of languor, +increased perhaps by the tinge of age, or a mind and heart overtaxed +with cares.</p> + +<p>"I received your note, which I hastened to answer. Of course you +received my answer. I rejoice that you have persevered, and succeeded in +finding the object I have so long sought. Not hearing from you for so +many weeks, I had begun to fear she had gone forever," says the lady, in +a soft, musical voice, raising her white, delicate hand to her cheek, +which is suffused with blushes.</p> + +<p>"I had myself almost given her over, for she disappeared from the +Points, and no clue could be got of her," returns the man, pausing for a +moment, then resuming his story. "A week ago yesterday she turned up +again, and I got wind that she was in a place we call 'Black-beetle +Hole'—"</p> + +<p>"Black-beetle Hole!" ejaculates the lady, whom the reader will have +discovered is no less a person than Madame Montford. Mr. Detective +Fitzgerald is the visitor.</p> + +<p>"Yes, there's where she's got, and it isn't much of a place, to say the +best. But when a poor creature has no other place to get a stretch down, +she stretches down there—"</p> + +<p>"Proceed to how you found her, and what you have got from her concerning +the child," the lady interrupts, with a deep sigh.</p> + +<p>"Well," proceeds the detective, "I meets—havin' an eye out all the +while—Sergeant Dobbs one morning—Dobbs knows every roost in the Points +better than me!—and says he, 'Fitzgerald, that are woman, that crazy +woman, you've been in tow of so long, has turned up. There was a row in +Black-beetle Hole last night. I got a force and descended into the +place, found it crammed with them half-dead kind of women and men, and +three thieves, what wanted to have a fuss with the hag that keeps it. +One on 'em was thrashing the poor crazy woman. They had torn all the +rags off her back. Hows-ever, if you wants to fish her out, you'd better +be spry about it—'"</p> + +<p>The lady interrupts by saying she will disguise, and with his +assistance, go bring her from the place—save her! Mr. Fitzgerald begs +she will take the matter practically. She could not breathe the air of +the place, he says.</p> + +<p>"'Thank you Dobbs,' says I," he resumes, "and when it got a bit dark I +went incog. to Black-beetle's Hole—"</p> + +<p>"And where is this curious place?" she questions, with an air of +anxiety.</p> + +<p>"As to that, Madame—well, you wouldn't know it was lived in, because +its underground, and one not up to the entrance never would think it led +to a place where human beings crawled in at night. I don't wonder so +many of 'em does things what get 'em into the Station, and after that +treated to a short luxury on the Island. As I was goin' on to say, I got +myself fortified, started out into the Points, and walked—we take these +things practically—down and up the east sidewalk, then stopped in front +of the old rotten house that Black-beetle Hole is under. Then I looks +down the wet little stone steps, that ain't wide enough for a big man +to get down, and what lead into the cellar. Some call it Black-beetle +Hole, and then again some call it the Hole of the Black-beetles. 'Yer +after no good, Mr. Fitzgerald,' says Mrs. McQuade, whose husband keeps +the junk-shop over the Hole, putting her malicious face out of the +window.</p> + +<p>"'You're the woman I want, Mrs. McQuade,' says I. 'Don't be puttin' your +foot in the house,' says she. And when I got her temper a little down by +telling her I only wanted to know who lived in the Hole, she swore by +all the saints it had niver a soul in it, and was hard closed up. Being +well up to the dodges of the Points folks, I descended the steps, and +gettin' underground, knocked at the Hole door, and then sent it smash +in. 'Well! who's here?' says I. 'It's me,' says Mrs. Lynch, a knot of an +old woman, who has kept the Hole for many years, and says she has no +fear of the devil."</p> + +<p>Madame Montford listens with increasing anxiety; Mr. Detective +Fitzgerald proceeds: "'Get a light here, then;' says I. You couldn't see +nothing, it was so dark, but you could hear 'em move, and breathe. And +then the place was so hot and sickly. Had to stand it best way I could. +There was no standing straight in the dismal place, which was wet and +nasty under foot, and not more nor twelve by fourteen. The old woman +said she had only a dozen lodgers in; when she made out to get a light +for me I found she had twenty-three, tucked away here and there, under +straw and stuff. Well, it was curious to see 'em (here the detective +wipes his forehead with his handkerchief) rise up, one after another, +all round you, you know, like fiends that had been buried for a time, +then come to life merely to get something to eat."</p> + +<p>"And did you find the woman—and was she one of them?"</p> + +<p>"That's what I'm comin' at. Well, I caught a sight at the woman; knew +her at the glance. I got a sight at her one night in the Pit at the +House of the Nine Nations. 'Here! I wants you,' says I, takin' what +there was left of her by the arm. She shrieked, and crouched down, and +begged me not to hurt her, and looked wilder than a tiger at me. And +then the whole den got into a fright, and young women, and boys, and +men—they were all huddled together—set up such a screaming. 'Munday!' +says I, 'you don't go to the Tombs—here! I've got good news for you.' +This quieted her some, and then I picked her up—she was nearly +naked—and seeing she wanted scrubbing up, carried her out of the Hole, +and made her follow me to my house, where we got her into some clothes, +and seeing that she was got right in her mind, I thought it would be a +good time to question her."</p> + +<p>"If you will hasten the result of your search, it will, my good sir, +relieve my feelings much!" again interposes the lady, drawing her chair +nearer the detective.</p> + +<p>"'You've had.' I says to her, 'a hard enough time in this world, and now +here's the man what's going to be a friend to ye—understand that!' says +I, and she looked at me bewildered. We gave her something to eat, and a +pledge that no one would harm her, and she tamed down, and began to look +up a bit. 'Your name wasn't always Munday?' says I, in a way that she +couldn't tell what I was after. She said she had taken several names, +but Munday was her right name. Then she corrected herself—she was weak +and hoarse—and said it was her husband's name. 'You've a good memory, +Mrs. Munday,' says I; 'now, just think as far back as you can, and tell +us where you lived as long back as you can think.' She shook her head, +and began to bury her face in her hands I tried for several minutes, but +could get nothing more out of her. Then she quickened up, shrieked out +that she had just got out of the devil's regions, and made a rush for +the door."</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h3>CHAPTER XLIII.</h3> + +<p class='center' style='font-size:smaller;'>IN WHICH IS REVEALED THE ONE ERROR THAT BROUGHT SO MUCH SUFFERING UPON +MANY.</p> + + +<p>Mr. Fitzgerald sees that his last remark is having no very good effect +on Madame Montford, and hastens to qualify, ere it overcome her. "That, +I may say, Madame, was not the last of her. My wife and me, seeing how +her mind was going wrong again, got her in bed for the night, and took +what care of her we could. Well, you see, she got rational in the +morning, and, thinking it a chance, I 'plied a heap of kindness to her, +and got her to tell all she knew of herself. She went on to tell where +she lived—I followed your directions in questioning her—at the time +you noted down. She described the house exactly. I have been to it +to-night; knew it at a sight, from her description. Some few practical +questions I put to her about the child you wanted to get at, I found +frightened her so that she kept shut—for fear, I take it, that it was a +crime she may be punished for at some time. I says, 'You was trusted +with a child once, wasn't you?' 'The Lord forgive me,' she says, 'I know +I'm guilty—but I've been punished enough in this world haven't I?' And +she burst out into tears, and hung down her head, and got into the +corner, as if wantin' nobody to see her. She only wanted a little good +care, and a little kindness, to bring her to. This we did as well as we +could, and made her understand that no one thought of punishing her, but +wanted to be her friends. Well, the poor wretch began to pick up, as I +said before, and in three days was such another woman that nobody could +have told that she was the poor crazy thing that ran about the lanes and +alleys of the Points. And now, Madame, doing as you bid me, I thought it +more practical to come to you, knowing you could get of her all you +wanted. She is made comfortable. Perhaps you wouldn't like to have her +brought here—I may say I don't think it would be good policy. If you +would condescend to come to our house, you can see her alone. I hope you +are satisfied with my services." The detective pauses, and again wipes +his face.</p> + +<p>"My gratitude for your perseverance I can never fully express to you. I +owe you a debt I never can repay. To-morrow, at ten o'clock, I will meet +you at your house; and then, if you can leave me alone with her—"</p> + +<p>"Certainly, certainly, everything will be at your service, Madame," +returns the detective, rising from his seat and thanking the lady, who +rewards him bountifully from her purse, and bids him good night. The +servant escorts him to the door, while Madame Montford buries her face +in her hands, and gives vent to her emotions.</p> + +<p>On the morning following, a neatly-caparisoned carriage is seen driving +to the door of a little brick house in Crosby street. From it Madame +Montford alights, and passes in at the front door, while in another +minute it rolls away up the street and is lost to sight. A few moments' +consultation, and the detective, who has ushered the lady into his +humbly-furnished little parlor, withdraws to give place to the pale and +emaciated figure of the woman Munday, who advances with faltering step +and downcast countenance. "Oh! forgive me, forgive me! have mercy upon +me! forgive me this crime!" she shrieks. Suddenly she raises her eyes, +and rushing forward throws herself at Madame Montford's feet, in an +imploring attitude. Dark and varied fancies crowd confusedly on Madame +Montford's mind at this moment.</p> + +<p>"Nay, nay, my poor sufferer, rather I might ask forgiveness of you." She +takes the woman by the hand, and, with an air of regained calmness, +raises her from the floor. With her, the outer life seems preparing the +inner for what is to come. "But I have long sought you—sought you in +obedience to the demands of my conscience, which I would the world gave +me power to purify; and now I have found you, and with you some rest for +my aching heart. Come, sit down; forget what you have suffered; tell me +what befell you, and what has become of the child; tell me all, and +remember that I will provide for you a comfortable home for the rest of +your life." Madame motions her to a chair, struggling the while to +suppress her own feelings.</p> + +<p>"I loved the child you intrusted to my care; yes, God knows I loved it, +and watched over it for two years, as carefully as a mother. But I was +poor, and the brother, in whose hands you intrusted the amount for its +support (this, the reader must here know, was not a brother, but the +paramour of Madame Montford), failed, and gave me nothing after the +first six months. I never saw him, and when I found you had gone +abroad—" The woman hesitates, and, with weeping eyes and trembling +voice, again implores forgiveness. "My husband gave himself up to +drink, lost his situation, and then he got to hating the child, and +abusing me for taking it, and embarrassing our scanty means of living. +Night and day, I was harassed and abused, despised and neglected. I was +discouraged, and gave up in despair. I clung to the child as long as I +could. I struggled, and struggled, and struggled—" Here the woman +pauses, and with a submissive look, again hangs down her head and sobs.</p> + +<p>"Be calm, be calm," says Madame Montford, drawing nearer to her, and +making an effort to inspirit her. "Throw off all your fears, forget what +you have suffered, for I, too, have suffered. And you parted with the +child?"</p> + +<p>"Necessity forced me," pursues the woman, shaking her head. "I saw only +the street before me on one side, and felt only the cold pinchings of +poverty on the other. You had gone abroad—"</p> + +<p>"It was my intention to have adopted the child as my own when I +returned," interrupts Madame Montford, still clinging to that flattering +hope in which the criminal sees a chance of escape.</p> + +<p>"And I," resumes the woman, "left the husband who neglected me, and who +treated me cruelly, and gave myself,—perhaps I was to blame for it,—up +to one who befriended me. He was the only one who seemed to care for me, +or to have any sympathy for me. But he, like myself, was poor; and, +being compelled to flee from our home, and to live in obscurity, where +my husband could not find me out, the child was an incumbrance I had no +means of supporting. I parted with her—yes, yes, I parted with her to +Mother Bridges, who kept a stand at a corner in West street—"</p> + +<p>"And then what became of her?" again interposes Madame Montford. The +woman assumes a sullenness, and it is some time before she can be got to +proceed.</p> + +<p>"My conscience rebuked me," she resumes, as if indifferent about +answering the question, "for I loved the child as my own; and the friend +I lived with, and who followed the sea, printed on its right arm two +hearts and a broken anchor, which remain there now. My husband died of +the cholera, and the friend I had taken to, and who treated me kindly, +also died, and I soon found myself an abandoned woman, an outcast—yes, +ruined forever, and in the streets, leading a life that my own feelings +revolted at, but from which starvation only seemed the alternative. My +conscience rebuked me again and again, and something—I cannot tell what +it was—impelled me with an irresistible force to watch over the +fortunes of the child I knew must come to the same degraded life +necessity—perhaps it was my own false step—had forced upon me. I +watched her a child running neglected about the streets, then I saw her +sold to Hag Zogbaum, who lived in Pell street; I never lost sight of +her—no, I never lost sight of her, but fear of criminating myself kept +me from making myself known to her. When I had got old in vice, and +years had gone past, and she was on the first step to the vice she had +been educated to, we shared the same roof. Then she was known as Anna +Bonard—"</p> + +<p>"Anna Bonard!" exclaims Madame Montford. "Then truly it is she who now +lives in Charleston! There is no longer a doubt. I may seek and claim +her, and return her to at least a life of comfort."</p> + +<p>"There you will find her. Ah, many times have I looked upon her, and +thought if I could only save her, how happy I could die. I shared the +same roof with her in Charleston, and when I got sick she was kind to +me, and watched over me, and was full of gentleness, and wept over her +condition. She has sighed many a time, and said how she wished she knew +how she came into the world, to be forced to live despised by the world. +But I got down, down, down, from one step to another, one step to +another, as I had gone up from one step to another in the splendor of +vice, until I found myself, tortured in mind and body, a poor neglected +wretch in the Charleston Poor-house. In it I was treated worse than a +slave, left, sick and heart-broken, and uncared-for, to the preying of a +fever that destroyed my mind. And as if that were not enough, I was +carried into the dungeons—the 'mad cells,'—and chained. And this +struck such a feeling of terror into my soul that my reason, as they +said, was gone forever. But I got word to Anna, and she came to me, and +gave me clothes and many little things to comfort me, and got me out, +and gave me money to get back to New York, where I have been ever since, +haunted from place to place, with scarce a place to lay my head. Surely +I have suffered. Shall I be forgiven?" Her voice here falters, she +becomes weak, and seems sinking under the burden of her emotions. +"If,—if—if," she mutters, incoherently, "you can save me, and forgive +me, you will have the prayers of one who has drank deep of the bitter +cup." She looks up with a sad, melancholy countenance, again implores +forgiveness, and bursts into loud sobs.</p> + +<p>"Mine is the guilty part—it is me who needs forgiveness!" speaks Madame +Montford, pressing the hand of the forlorn woman, as the tears stream +down her cheeks. She has unburdened her emotions, but such is the +irresistible power of a guilty conscience that she finds her crushed +heart and smitten frame sinking under the shock—that she feels the very +fever of remorse mounting to her brain.</p> + +<p>"Be calm, be calm—for you have suffered, wandered through the dark +abyss—truly you have been chastened enough in this world. But while +your heart is only bruised and sore, mine is stung deep and lacerated. +The image of that child now rises up before me. I see her looking back +over her chequered life, and pining to know her birthright. Mine is the +task of seeking her out, reconciling her, saving her from this life of +shame. I must sacrifice the secrets of my own heart, go boldly in +pursuit of her—" She pauses a moment. There is yet a thin veil between +her and society. Society only founds its suspicions upon the mystery +involved in the separation from her husband, and the doubtful character +of her long residence in Europe. Society knows nothing of the birth of +the child. The scandal leveled at her in Charleston, was only the result +of her own indiscretion. "Yes," she whispers, attempting at the same +time to soothe the feelings of the poor disconsolate woman, "I must go, +and go quickly—I must drag her from the terrible life she is +leading;—but, ah! I must do it so as to shield myself. Yes, I must +shield myself!" And she puts into the woman's hand several pieces of +gold, saying: "take this!—to-morrow you will be better provided for. Be +silent. Speak to no one of what has passed between us, nor make the +acquaintance of any one outside the home I shall provide for you." Thus +saying, she recalls Mr. Detective Fitzgerald, rewards him with a nostrum +from her purse, and charges him to make the woman comfortable at her +expense.</p> + +<p>"Her mind, now I do believe," says the detective, with an approving +toss of the head, "her faculties'll come right again,—they only wants a +little care and kindness, mum." The detective thanks her again and +again, then puts the money methodically into his pocket.</p> + +<p>The carriage having returned, Madame Montford vaults into it as quickly +as she alighted, and is rolled away to her mansion.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h3>CHAPTER XLIV.</h3> + +<p class='center' style='font-size:smaller;'>IN WHICH IS RECORDED EVENTS THE READER MAY NOT HAVE EXPECTED.</p> + + +<p>While the events we have recorded in the foregoing chapter, confused, +hurried, and curious, are being enacted in New York, let us once more +turn to Charleston.</p> + +<p>You must know that, notwithstanding our high state of civilization, we +yet maintain in practice two of the most loathsome relics of +barbarism—we lash helpless women, and we scourge, at the public +whipping-post, the bare backs of men.</p> + +<p>George Mullholland has twice been dragged to the whipping-post, twice +stripped before a crowd in the market-place, twice lashed, maddened to +desperation, and twice degraded in the eyes of the very negroes we teach +to yield entire submission to the white man, however humble his grade. +Hate, scorn, remorse—every dark passion his nature can summon—rises up +in one torturing tempest, and fills his bosom with a mad longing for +revenge. "Death!" he says, while looking out from his cell upon the +bright landscape without, "what is death to me? The burnings of an +outraged soul subdue the thought of death."</p> + +<p>The woman through whom this dread finale was brought upon him, and who +now repines, unable to shake off the smarts old associations crowd upon +her heart, has a second and third time crept noiselessly to his cell, +and sought in vain his forgiveness. Yea, she has opened the door gently, +but drew back in terror before his dark frown, his sardonic scorn, his +frenzied rush at her. Had he not loved her fondly, his hate had not +taken such deep root in his bosom.</p> + +<p>Two or three days pass, he has armed himself "to the death," and is +resolved to make his escape, and seek revenge of his enemies. It is +evening. Dark festoons of clouds hang over the city, lambent lightning +plays along the heavens in the south. Now it flashes across the city, +the dull panorama lights up, the tall, gaunt steeples gleam out, and the +surface of the Bay flashes out in a phosphoric blaze. Patiently and +diligently has he filed, and filed, and filed, until he has removed the +bar that will give egress to his body. The window of his cell overlooks +the ditch, beyond which is the prison wall. Noiselessly he arranges the +rope, for he is in the third story, then paces his cell, silent and +thoughtful. "Must it be?" he questions within himself, "must I stain +these hands with the blood of the woman I love? Revenge, revenge—I will +have revenge. I will destroy both of them, for to-morrow I am to be +dragged a third time to the whipping-post." Now he casts a glance round +the dark cell, now he pauses at the window, now the lightning courses +along the high wall, then reflects back the deep ditch. Another moment, +and he has commenced his descent. Down, down, down, he lowers himself. +Now he holds on tenaciously, the lightning reflects his dangling figure, +a prisoner in a lower cell gives the alarm, he hears the watchword of +his discovery pass from cell to cell, the clashing of the keeper's door +grates upon his ear like thunder—he has reached the end of his rope, +and yet hangs suspended in the air. A heavy fall is heard, he has +reached the ditch, bounds up its side to the wall, seizes a pole, and +places against it, and, with one vault, is over into the open street. +Not a moment is to be lost. Uproar and confusion reigns throughout the +prison, his keepers have taken the alarm, and will soon be on his track, +pursuing him with ferocious hounds. Burning for revenge, and yet +bewildered, he sets off at full speed, through back lanes, over fields, +passing in his course the astonished guardmen. He looks neither to the +right nor the left, but speeds on toward the grove. Now he reaches the +bridge that crosses the millpond, pauses for breath, then proceeds on. +Suddenly a light from the villa Anna occupies flashes out. He has +crossed the bridge, bounds over the little hedge-grown avenue, through +the garden, and in another minute stands before her, a pistol pointed at +her breast, and all the terrible passions of an enraged fiend darkening +his countenance. Her implorings for mercy bring an old servant rushing +into the room, the report of a pistol rings out upon the still air, +shriek after shriek follows, mingled with piercing moans, and +death-struggles. "Ha, ha!" says the avenger, looking on with a sardonic +smile upon his face, and a curl of hate upon his lip, "I have taken the +life to which I gave my own—yes, I have taken it—I have taken it!" And +she writhes her body, and sets her eyes fixedly upon him, as he hastens +out of the room.</p> + +<p>"Quick! quick!" he says to himself. "There, then! I am pursued!" He +recrosses the millpond over another bridge, and in his confusion turns a +short angle into a lane leading to the city. The yelping of dogs, the +deep, dull tramp of hoofs, the echoing of voices, the ominous baying +and scenting of blood-hounds—all break upon his ear in one terrible +chaos. Not a moment is to be lost. The sight at the villa will attract +the attention of his pursuers, and give him time to make a distance! The +thought of what he has done, and the terrible death that awaits him, +crowds upon his mind, and rises up before him like a fierce monster of +retribution. He rushes at full speed down the lane, vaults across a +field into the main road, only to find his pursuers close upon him. The +patrol along the streets have caught the alarm, which he finds spreading +with lightning-speed. The clank of side-arms, the scenting and baying of +the hounds, coming louder and louder, nearer and nearer, warns him of +the approaching danger. A gate at the head of a wharf stands open, the +hounds are fast gaining upon him, a few jumps more and they will have +him fast in their ferocious grasp. He rushes through the gate, down the +wharf, the tumultuous cry of his pursuers striking terror into his very +heart. Another instant and the hounds are at his feet, he stands on the +capsill at the end, gives one wild, despairing look into the abyss +beneath—"I die revenged," he shouts, discharges a pistol into his +breast, and with one wild plunge, is buried forever in the water +beneath. The dark stream of an unhappy life has run out. Upon whom does +the responsibility of this terrible closing rest? In the words of +Thomson, the avenger left behind him only "Gaunt Beggary, and Scorn, +with many hell-hounds more."</p> + +<p>When the gray dawn of morning streamed in through the windows of the +little villa, and upon the parlor table, that had so often been adorned +with caskets and fresh-plucked flowers, there, in their stead, lay the +lifeless form of the unhappy Anna, her features pale as marble, but +beautiful even in death. There, rolled in a mystic shroud, calm as a +sleeper in repose, she lay, watched over by two faithful slaves.</p> + +<p>The Judge and Mr. Snivel have found it convenient to make a trip of +pleasure into the country. And though the affair creates some little +comment in fashionable society, it would be exceedingly unpopular to pry +too deeply into the private affairs of men high in office. We are not +encumbered with scrutinizing morality. Being an "unfortunate woman," the +law cannot condescend to deal with her case. Indeed, were it brought +before a judge, and the judge to find himself sitting in judgment upon a +judge, his feelings would find some means of defrauding his judgment, +while society would carefully close the shutter of its sanctity.</p> + +<p>At high noon there comes a man of the name of Moon, commonly called Mr. +Moon, the good-natured Coroner. In truth, a better-humored man than Mr. +Moon cannot be found; and what is more, he has the happiest way in the +world of disposing of such cases, and getting verdicts of his jury +exactly suited to circumstances. Mr. Moon never proceeds to business +without regaling his jury with good brandy and high-flavored cigars. In +this instance he has bustled about and got together six very solemn and +seriously-disposed gentlemen, who proceed to deliberate. "A mystery +hangs over the case," says one. A second shakes his head, and views the +body as if anxious to get away. A third says, reprovingly, that "such +cases are coming too frequent." Mr. Moon explains the attendant +circumstances, and puts a changed face on the whole affair. One juryman +chalks, and another juryman chalks, and Mr. Moon says, by way of +bringing the matter to a settled point, "It is a bad ending to a +wretched life." A solemn stillness ensues, and then follows the verdict. +The body being identified as that of one Anna Bonard, a woman celebrated +for her beauty, but of notorious reputation, the jury are of opinion +(having duly weighed the circumstances) that she came to her melancholy +death by the hands of one George Mullholland, who was prompted to commit +the act for some cause to the jury unknown. And the jury, in passing the +case over to the authorities, recommend that the said Mullholland be +brought to justice. This done, Mr. Moon orders her burial, and the jury +hasten home, fully confident of having performed their duty unswerved.</p> + +<p>When night came, when all was hushed without, and the silence within was +broken only by the cricket's chirp, when the lone watcher, the faithful +old slave, sat beside the cold, shrouded figure, when the dim light of +the chamber of death seemed mingling with the shadows of departed souls, +there appeared in the room, like a vision, the tall figure of a female, +wrapped in a dark mantle. Slowly and noiselessly she stole to the side +of the deceased, stood motionless and statue-like for several minutes, +her eyes fixed in mute contemplation on the face of the corpse. The +watcher looked and started back, still the figure remained motionless. +Raising her right hand to her chin, pensively, she lifted her eyes +heavenward, and in that silent appeal, in those dewy tears that +glistened in her great orbs, in those words that seemed freezing to her +quivering lips, the fierce struggle waging in that bosom was told. She +heard the words, "You cannot redeem me now!" knelling in her ears, her +thoughts flashed back over years of remorse, to the day of her error, +and she saw rising up as it were before her, like a spectre from the +tomb, seeking retribution, the image of the child she had sacrificed to +her vanity. She pressed and pressed the cold hand, so delicate, so like +her own; she unbared the round, snowy arm, and there beheld the +imprinted hearts, and the broken anchor! Her pent-up grief then burst +its bounds, the tears rolled down her cheeks, her lips quivered, her +hand trembled, and her very blood seemed as ice in her veins. She cast a +hurried glance round the room, a calm and serene smile seemed lighting +up the features of the lifeless woman, and she bent over her, and kissed +and kissed her cold, marble-like brow, and bathed it with her burning +tears. It was a last sad offering; and having bestowed it, she turned +slowly away, and disappeared. It was Madame Montford, who came a day too +late to save the storm-tossed girl, but returned to think of the +hereafter of her own soul.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h3>CHAPTER XLV.</h3> + +<p class='center' style='font-size:smaller;'>ANOTHER SHADE OF THE PICTURE.</p> + + +<p>While the earth of Potter's Field is closing over all that remains of +Anna Bonard, Maria McArthur may be seen, snatching a moment of rest, as +it were, seated under the shade of a tree on the Battery, musing, as is +her wont. The ships sail by cheerily, there is a touching beauty about +the landscape before her, all nature seems glad. Even the heavens smile +serenely; and a genial warmth breathes through the soft air. "Truly the +Allwise," she says within herself, "will be my protector, and is +chastising me while consecrating something to my good. Mr. Keepum has +made my father's release the condition of my ruin. But he is but flesh +and blood, and I—no, I am not yet a slave! The virtue of the poor, +truly, doth hang by tender threads; but I am resolved to die struggling +to preserve it." And a light, as of some future joy, rises up in her +fancy, and gives her new strength.</p> + +<p>The German family have removed from the house in which she occupies a +room, and in its place are come two women of doubtful character. Still, +necessity compels her to remain in it; for though it is a means resorted +to by Keepum to effect his purpose, she cannot remove without being +followed, and harassed by him. Strong in the consciousness of her own +purity, and doubly incensed at the proof of what extremes the designer +will condescend to, she nerves herself for the struggle she sees before +her. True, she was under the same roof with them; she was subjected to +many inconveniencies by their presence; but not all their flattering +inducements could change her resolution. Nevertheless, the resolution of +a helpless female does not protect her from the insults of heartless +men. She returns home to find that Mother Rumor, with her thousand +tongues, is circulating all kinds of evil reports about her. It is even +asserted that she has become an abandoned woman, and is the occupant of +a house of doubtful repute. And this, instead of enlisting the +sympathies of some kind heart, rather increases the prejudice and +coldness of those upon whom she has depended for work. It is seldom the +story of suffering innocence finds listeners. The sufferer is too +frequently required to qualify in crime, before she becomes an object of +sympathy.</p> + +<p>She returns, one day, some work just finished for one of our high old +families, the lady of which makes it a boast that she is always engaged +in "laudable pursuits of a humane kind." The lady sends her servant to +the door with the pittance due, and begs to say she is sorry to hear of +the life Miss McArthur is leading, and requests she will not show +herself at the house again. Mortified in her feelings, Maria begs an +interview; but the servant soon returns an answer that her Missus cannot +descend to anything of the kind. Our high old families despise working +people, and wall themselves up against the poor, whose virtue they +regard as an exceedingly cheap commodity. Our high old families choose +rather to charge guilt, and deny the right to prove innocence.</p> + +<p>With the four shillings, Maria, weeping, turns from the door, procures +some bread and coffee, and wends her way to the old prison. But the +chords of her resolution are shaken, the cold repulse has gone like +poison to her heart. The ray of joy that was lighting up her future, +seems passing away; whilst fainter and fainter comes the hope of once +more greeting her lover. She sees vice pampered by the rich, and poor +virtue begging at their doors. She sees a price set upon her own ruin; +she sees men in high places waiting with eager passion the moment when +the thread of her resolution will give out. The cloud of her night does, +indeed, seem darkening again.</p> + +<p>But she gains the prison, and falters as she enters the cell where the +old Antiquary, his brow furrowed deep of age, sleeps calmly upon his +cot. Near his hand, which he has raised over his head, lays a letter, +with the envelope broken. Maria's quick eye flashes over the +superscription, and recognizes in it the hand of Tom Swiggs. A transport +of joy fills her bosom with emotions she has no power to constrain. She +trembles from head to foot; fancies mingled with joys and fears crowd +rapidly upon her thoughts. She grasps it with feelings frantic of joy, +and holds it in her shaking hand; the shock has nigh overcome her. The +hope in which she has so long found comfort and strength—that has so +long buoyed her up, and carried her safely through trials, has truly +been her beacon light. "Truly," she says within herself, "the dawn of my +morning is brightening now." She opens the envelope, and finds a letter +enclosed to her. "Oh! yes, yes, yes! it is him—it is from him!" she +stammers, in the exuberance of her wild joy. And now the words, "You +are richer than me," flash through her thoughts with revealed +significance.</p> + +<p>Maria grasps the old man's hand. He starts and wakes, as if unconscious +of his situation, then fixes his eyes upon her with a steady, vacant +gaze. Then, with childlike fervor, he presses her hand to his lips, and +kisses it. "It was a pleasant dream—ah! yes, I was dreaming all things +went so well!" Again a change comes over his countenance, and he glances +round the room, with a wild and confused look. "Am I yet in +prison?—well, it was only a dream. If death were like dreaming, I would +crave it to take me to its peace, that my mind might no longer be +harassed with the troubles of this life. Ah! there, there!"—(the old +man starts suddenly, as if a thought has flashed upon him)—"there is +the letter, and from poor Tom, too! I only broke the envelope. I have +not opened it."</p> + +<p>"It is safe, father; I have it," resumes Maria, holding it before him, +unopened, as the words tremble upon her lips. One moment she fears it +may convey bad news, and in the next she is overjoyed with the hope that +it brings tidings of the safety and return of him for whose welfare she +breathed many a prayer. Pale and agitated, she hesitates a moment, then +proceeds to open it.</p> + +<p>"Father, father! heaven has shielded me—heaven has shielded me! Ha! ha! +ha! yes, yes, yes! He is safe! he is safe!" And she breaks out into one +wild exclamation of joy, presses the letter to her lips, and kisses it, +and moistens it with her tears, "It was all a plot—a dark plot set for +my ruin!" she mutters, and sinks back, overcome with her emotions. The +old man fondles her to his bosom, his white beard flowing over her +suffused cheeks, and his tears mingling with hers. And here she +remains, until the anguish of her joy runs out, and her mind resumes its +wonted calm.</p> + +<p>Having broken the spell, she reads the letter to the enraptured old man. +Tom has arrived in New York; explains the cause of his long absence; +speaks of several letters he has transmitted by post, (which she never +received;) and his readiness to proceed to Charleston, by steamer, in a +few days. His letter is warm with love and constancy; he recurs to old +associations; he recounts his remembrance of the many kindnesses he +received at the hands of her father, when homeless; of the care, to +which he owes his reform, bestowed upon him by herself, and his burning +anxiety to clasp her to his bosom.</p> + +<p>A second thought flashes upon her fevered brain. Am I not the subject of +slander! Am I not contaminated by associations? Has not society sought +to clothe me with shame? Truth bends before falsehood, and virtue +withers under the rust of slandering tongues. Again a storm rises up +before her, and she feels the poisoned arrow piercing deep into her +heart. Am I not living under the very roof that will confirm the +slanders of mine enemies? she asks herself. And the answer rings back in +confirmation upon her too sensitive ears, and fastens itself in her +feelings like a reptile with deadly fangs. No; she is not yet free from +her enemies. They have the power of falsifying her to her lover. The +thought fills her bosom with sad emotions. Strong in the consciousness +of her virtue, she feels how weak she is in the walks of the worldly. +Her persecutors are guilty, but being all-powerful may seek in still +further damaging her character, a means of shielding themselves from +merited retribution. It is the natural expedient of bad men in power to +fasten crime upon the weak they have injured.</p> + +<p>Only a few days have to elapse, then, and Maria will be face to face +with him in whom her fondest hopes have found refuge: but even in those +few days it will be our duty to show how much injury may be inflicted +upon the weak by the powerful.</p> + +<p>The old Antiquary observes the change that has come so suddenly over +Maria's feelings, but his entreaties fail to elicit the cause. Shall she +return to the house made doubtful by its frail occupants; or shall she +crave the jailer's permission to let her remain and share her father's +cell? Ah! solicitude for her father settles the question. The +alternative may increase his apprehensions, and with them his +sufferings. Night comes on; she kisses him, bids him a fond adieu, and +with an aching heart returns to the house that has brought so much +scandal upon her.</p> + +<p>On reaching the door she finds the house turned into a bivouac of +revelry; her own chamber is invaded, and young men and women are making +night jubilant over Champagne and cigars. Mr. Keepum and the Hon. Mr. +Snivel are prominent among the carousers; and both are hectic of +dissipation. Shall she flee back to the prison? Shall she go cast +herself at the mercy of the keeper? As she is about following the +thought with the act, she is seized rudely by the arms, dragged into the +scene of carousal, and made the object of coarse jokes. One insists that +she must come forward and drink; another holds an effervescing glass to +her lips; a third says he regards her modesty out of place, and demands +that she drown it with mellowing drinks. The almost helpless girl +shrieks, and struggles to free herself from the grasp of her enemies. +Mr. Snivel, thinking it highly improper that such cries go free, +catches her in his arms, and places his hand over her mouth. "Caught +among queer birds at last," he says, throwing an insidious wink at +Keepum. "Will flock together, eh?"</p> + +<p>As if suddenly invested with herculean strength, Maria hurls the ruffian +from her, and lays him prostrate on the floor. In his fall the table is +overset, and bottles, decanters and sundry cut glass accompaniments, are +spread in a confused mass on the floor. Suddenly Mr. Keepum extinguishes +the lights. This is the signal for a scene of uproar and confusion we +leave the reader to picture in his imagination. The cry of "murder" is +followed quickly by the cry of "watch, watch!" and when the guardmen +appear, which they are not long in doing, it is seen that the very +chivalric gentlemen have taken themselves off—left, as a prey for the +guard, only Maria and three frail females.</p> + +<p>Cries, entreaties, and explanations, are all useless with such men as +our guard is composed of. Her clothes are torn, and she is found rioting +in disreputable company. The sergeant of the guard says, "Being thus +disagreeably caught, she must abide the penalty. It may teach you how to +model your morals," he adds; and straightway, at midnight, she is +dragged to the guard-house, and in spite of her entreaties, locked up in +a cell with the outcast women. "Will you not hear me? will you not allow +an innocent woman to speak in her own behalf? Do, I beg, I beseech, I +implore you—listen but for a minute—render me justice, and save me +from this last step of shame and disgrace," she appeals to the sergeant, +as the cell door closes upon her.</p> + +<p>Mr. Sergeant Stubble, for such is his name, shakes his head in doubt. +"Always just so," he says, with a shrug of the shoulders: "every one's +innocent what comes here 'specially women of your sort. The worst +rioters 'come the greatest sentimentalists, and repents most when they +gets locked up—does! You'll find it a righteous place for reflection, +in there." Mr. Sergeant Stubble shuts the door, and smothers her cries.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h3>CHAPTER XLVI.</h3> + +<p class='center' style='font-size:smaller;'>GAINING STRENGTH FROM PERSECUTION.</p> + + +<p>You know it is Bulwer who says, and says truly: "There is in calumny a +rank poison that, even when the character throws off the slander, the +heart remains diseased beneath the effect." The force of this on Maria's +thoughts and feelings, surrounded as she was by the vile influences of a +Charleston cell, came with strange effect as she contemplated her +friendless condition. There is one witness who can bear testimony to her +innocence, and in Him she still puts her trust. But the charitable have +closed their ears to her; and the outside world is too busy to listen to +her story. Those words of the poor woman who said, "You are still richer +than me," again ring their sweet music in her ear, and give strength to +her weary soul. They come to her like the voice of a merciful +Providence, speaking through the hushed air of midnight, and breathing +the sweet spirit of love into the dusky figures who tenant that dreary +cell. To Maria it is the last spark of hope, that rarely goes out in +woman's heart, and has come to tell her that to-morrow her star may +brighten. And now, reader, turn with us to another scene of hope and +anxiety.</p> + +<p>The steamer which bears Tom to Charleston is off Cape Romaine. He has +already heard of the fate of the old man McArthur. But, he asks himself, +may not truth and justice yet triumph? He paces and repaces the deck, +now gazing vacantly in the direction the ship is steering, then walking +to the stern and watching the long train of phosphoric light playing on +the toppling waves.</p> + +<p>There was something evasive in the manner of the man who communicated to +him the intelligence concerning McArthur. "May I ask another question of +you, sir?" he inquires, approaching the man who, like himself, sauntered +restlessly along the deck.</p> + +<p>The man hesitates, lights a fresh cigar. "You desire me to be frank with +you, of course," rejoins the man. "But I observe you are agitated. I +will answer your question, if it carry no personal wound. Speak, my +friend."</p> + +<p>"You know Maria?"</p> + +<p>"Well."</p> + +<p>"You know what has become of her, or where she resides?"</p> + +<p>Again the man hesitates—then says, "These are delicate matters to +discover."</p> + +<p>"You are not responsible for my feelings," interrupts the impatient man.</p> + +<p>"If, then, I must be plain,—she is leading the life of an outcast. Yes, +sir, the story is that she has fallen, and from necessity. I will say +this, though," he adds, by way of relief, "that I know nothing of it +myself." The words fall like a death-knell on his thoughts and feelings. +He stammers out a few words, but his tongue refuses to give utterance to +his thoughts. His whole nature seems changed; his emotions have filled +the cup of his sorrow; an abyss, deep, dark, and terrible, has opened to +his excited imagination. All the dark scenes of his life, all the +struggles he has had to gain his manliness, rise up before him like a +gloomy panorama, and pointing him back to that goal of dissipation in +which his mind had once found relief. He seeks his stateroom in +silence, and there invokes the aid of Him who never refuses to protect +the right. And here again we must return to another scene.</p> + +<p>Morning has come, the guard-roll has been called, and Judge Sleepyhorn +is about to hold high court. Maria and the companions of her cell are +arraigned, some black, others white, all before so august a judge. His +eye rests on a pale and dejected woman inwardly resolved to meet her +fate, calm and resolute. It is to her the last struggle of an eventful +life, and she is resolved to meet it with womanly fortitude.</p> + +<p>The Judge takes his seat, looks very grave, and condescends to say there +is a big docket to be disposed of this morning. "Crime seems to increase +in the city," he says, bowing to Mr. Seargent Stubbs.</p> + +<p>"If your Honor will look at that," Mr. Stubbs says, smiling,—"most on +em's bin up afore. All hard cases, they is."</p> + +<p>"If yeer Onher plases, might a woman o' my standin' say a woord in her +own difince? Sure its only a woord, Judge, an beein a dacent gintleman +ye'd not refuse me the likes."</p> + +<p>"Silence, there!" ejaculates Mr. Seargent Stubbs; "you must keep quiet +in court."</p> + +<p>"Faith its not the likes o' you'd keep me aisy, Mr. Stubbs. Do yee see +that now?" returns the woman, menacingly. She is a turbulent daughter of +the Emerald Isle, full five feet nine inches, of broad bare feet, with a +very black eye, and much in want of raiment.</p> + +<p>"The most corrigible case what comes to this court," says Mr. Stubbs, +bowing knowingly to the judge. "Rather likes a prison, yer Honor. Bin up +nine times a month. A dear customer to the state."</p> + +<p>The Judge, looking grave, and casting his eye learnedly over the pages +of a ponderous statute book, inquires of Mr. Seargent Stubbs what the +charge is.</p> + +<p>"Disturbed the hole neighborhood. A fight atween the Donahues, yer +Honor."</p> + +<p>"Dorn't believe a woord of it, yeer Onher. Sure, din't Donahue black the +eye o' me, and sphil the whisky too? Bad luck to Donahue, says I. You +don't say that to me, says he. I'd say it to the divil, says I. Take +that! says Donahue." Here Mrs. Donahue points to her eye, and brings +down even the dignity of the court.</p> + +<p>"In order to preserve peace between you and Donahue," says his Honor, +good naturedly, "I shall fine you ten dollars, or twenty days."</p> + +<p>"Let it go at twenty days," replies Mrs. Donahue, complimenting his +Honor's high character, "fir a divil o' ten dollars have I." And Mrs. +Donahue resigns herself to the tender mercies of Mr. Seargent Stubbs, +who removes her out of court.</p> + +<p>A dozen or more delinquent negroes, for being out after hours without +passes, are sentenced thirty stripes apiece, and removed, to the evident +delight of the Court, who is resolved that the majesty of the law shall +be maintained.</p> + +<p>It is Maria's turn now. Pale and trembling she approaches the circular +railing, assisted by Mr. Seargent Stubbs. She first looks imploringly at +the judge, then hangs down her head, and covers her face with her hands.</p> + +<p>"What is the charge?" inquires the Judge, turning to the loquacious +Stubbs. Mr. Stubbs says: "Disorderly conduct—and in a house of bad +repute."</p> + +<p>"I am innocent—I have committed no crime," interrupts the injured +woman. "You have dragged me here to shame me." Suddenly her face +becomes pale as marble, her limbs tremble, and the court is thrown into +a state of confusion by her falling to the floor in a swoon.</p> + +<p>"Its all over with her now," says Mr. Stubbs, standing back in fear.</p> + +<p>Crime has not dried up all the kinder impulses of Judge Sleepyhorn's +heart. Leaving the bench he comes quickly to the relief of the +unfortunate girl, holds her cold trembling hand in his own, and tenderly +bathes her temples. "Sorry the poor girl," he says, sympathizingly, +"should have got down so. Knew her poor old father when he was +comfortably off, and all Charleston liked him." His Honor adjourns +court, and ten minutes pass before the sufferer is restored to +consciousness. Then with a wild despairing look she scans those around +her, rests her head on her hand despondingly, and gives vent to her +tears. The cup of her sorrow has indeed overrun.</p> + +<p>"It was wrong to arrest you, young woman, and I sympathize with you. No +charge has been preferred, and so you are free. A carriage waits at the +door, and I have ordered you to be driven home," says the judge, +relaxing into sympathy.</p> + +<p>"I have no home now," she returns, the tears coursing down her wet +cheeks. "Slaves have homes, but I have none now."</p> + +<p>"When you want a friend, you'll find a friend in me. Keep up your +spirits, and remember that virtue is its own reward." Having said this, +the Judge raises her gently to her feet, supports her to the carriage, +and sees her comfortably seated. "Remember, you know, where to find a +friend if you want one," he says, and bids her good-morning. In another +minute the carriage is rolling her back to the home from whence she was +taken. She has no better home now.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h3>CHAPTER XLVII.</h3> + +<p class='center' style='font-size:smaller;'>AN EXCITEMENT.</p> + + +<p>A bright fire burned that night in Keepum's best parlor, furnished with +all the luxuries modern taste could invent. Keepum, restless, paces the +carpet, contemplating his own importance, for he has just been made a +Major of Militia, and we have a rare love for the feather. Now he pauses +at a window and looks impatiently out, then frisks his fingers through +his crispy hair and resumes his pacing. He expects some one, whose +coming he awaits with evident anxiety. "The time is already up," he +says, drawing his watch from his pocket. The door-bell rings just then, +his countenance brightens, and a servant ushers Mr. Snivel in. "The time +is already up, my good fellow," says Keepum, extending his hand +familiarly,—Mr. Snivel saying, "I've so many demands on my time, you +know. We're in good time, you know. Must bring the thing to a head +to-night." A short conversation carried on in whispers, and they sally +out, and soon disappear down Broad street.</p> + +<p>Just rounding the frowning walls of fort Sumter, a fort the restless +people never had any particular love for, is a big red light of the +steamer cutting through the sea like a monster of smoke and flame, on +her way up the harbor. Another hour, and she will be safely moored at +her landing. Tom stands on the upper deck, looking intently towards the +city, his anxiety increasing as the ship approaches the end of her +voyage, and his eager eye catching each familiar object only to remind +him more forceably of the time when he seemed on the downward road of +life. Hope had already begun to dispel his fears, and the belief that +what the man had told him was founded only in slander, became stronger +the more he pondered over it.</p> + +<p>St. Michael's clock has just struck ten, and the mounted guard are +distributing into their different beats. Maria, contemplating what may +come to-morrow, sits at the window of her lonely chamber like one whom +the world had forgotten. The dull vibrating sound of the clock still +murmurs on the air as she is startled from her reverie by the sound of +voices under the window. She feels her very soul desponding. It does +indeed seem as if that moment has come when nature in her last struggle +with hope must yield up the treasure of woman's life, and sink into a +life of remorse and shame. The talking becomes more distinct; then there +is a pause, succeeded by Keepum and Snivel silently entering her room, +the one drawing a chair by her side, the other taking a seat near the +door. "Come as friends, you know," says Keepum, exchanging glances with +Snivel, then fixing his eyes wickedly on the woman. "Don't seem to enjoy +our company, eh? Poor folks is got to puttin' on airs right big, +now-a-days. Don't 'mount to much, anyhow; ain't much better than +niggers, only can't sell 'em." "Poor folks must keep up appearances, +eh," interposes Mr. Snivel. They are waiting an opportunity for seizing +and overpowering the unprotected girl. We put our chivalry to strange +uses at times.</p> + +<p>But the steamer has reached her wharf; the roaring of her escaping steam +disturbs the city, and reëchoes far away down the bay. Again familiar +scenes open to the impatient man's view; old friends pass and repass him +unrecognized; but only one thought impels him, and that is fixed on +Maria. He springs ashore, dashes through the crowd of spectators, and +hurries on, scarcely knowing which way he is going.</p> + +<p>At length he pauses on the corner of King and Market streets, and +glances up to read the name by the glare of gas-light. An old negro +wends his way homeward. "Daddy," says he, "how long have you lived in +Charleston?"</p> + +<p>"Never was out on em, Mas'r," replies the negro, looking inquisitively +into the anxious man's face. "Why, lor's me, if dis are bin't Mas'r Tom, +what used t' be dis old nigger's young Mas'r."</p> + +<p>"Is it you, Uncle Cato?" Their recognition was warm, hearty, and true. +"God bless you, my boy; I've need of your services now," says Tom, still +holding the hard hand of the old negro firmly grasped in his own, and +discovering the object of his mission.</p> + +<p>"Jus' tote a'ter old Cato, Mas'r Tom. Maria's down da, at Undine's +cabin, yander. Ain't no better gal libin dan Miss Maria," replies Cato, +enlarging on Maria's virtues. There is no time to be lost. They hurry +forward, Tom following the old negro, and turning into a narrow lane to +the right, leading to Undine's cabin. But here they are doomed to +disappointment. They reach Undine's cabin, but Maria is not there. +Undine comes to the door, and points away down the lane, in the +direction of a bright light. "You will find her dare" says Undine; "and +if she ain't dare, I don' know where she be." They thank her, repay her +with a piece of silver, and hurry away in the direction of the light, +which seems to burn dimmer and dimmer as they approach. It suddenly +disappears, and, having reached the house, a rickety wooden tenement, a +cry of "Save me, save me! Heaven save me!" rings out on the still air, +and falls on the ear of the already excited man, like a solemn warning.</p> + +<p>"Up dar! Mas'r Tom, up dar!" shouts Cato, pointing to a stairs leading +on the outside. Up Tom vaults, and recognizing Maria's voice, +supplicating for mercy, thunders at the door, which gives away before +his strength. "It is me, Maria! it is me!" he proclaims. "Who is this +that has dared to abuse or insult you?" and she runs and throws herself +into his arms. "A light! a light, bring a light, Cato!" he demands, and +the old negro hastens to obey.</p> + +<p>In the confusion of the movement, Keepum reaches the street in safety +and hastens to his home, leaving his companion to take care of himself.</p> + +<p>A pale gleam of light streams into the open door, discovering a tall +dusky figure moving noiselessly towards it. "Why, if here bin't Mas'r +Snivel!" ejaculates old Cato, who returns bearing a candle, the light of +which falls on the tall figure of Mr. Snivel.</p> + +<p>"What, villain! is it you who has brought all this distress upon a +friendless girl?"——</p> + +<p>"Glad to see you back, Tom. Don't make so much of it, my good +fellow—only a bit of a lark, you know. 'Pon my honor, there was nothing +wrong meant. Ready to do you a bit of a good turn, any time," interrupts +Mr. Snivel, blandly, and extending his hand.</p> + +<p>"You! villain, do me a friendly act? Never. You poisoned the mind of my +mother against me, robbed her of her property, and then sought to +destroy the happiness and blast forever the reputation of one who is +dearer to me than a sister. You have lived a miscreant long enough. You +must die now." Quickly the excited man draws a pistol, the report rings +sharply on the ear, and the tall figure of Mr. Snivel staggers against +the door, then falls to the ground,—dead. His day of reckoning has +come, and with it a terrible retribution.</p> + +<p>"Now Maria, here," says Tom, picking up a packet of letters that had +dropped from the pocket of the man, as he fell, "is the proof of his +guilt and my sincerity." They were the letters written by him to Maria, +and intercepted by Mr. Snivel, through the aid of a clerk in the +post-office. "He has paid the penalty of his misdeeds, and I have no +regrets to offer. To-morrow I will give myself up and ask only justice."</p> + +<p>Then clasping Maria in his arms he bids old Cato follow him, and +proceeds with her to a place of safety for the night, as an anxious +throng gather about the house, eager to know the cause of the shooting. +"Ah, Mas'r Snivel," says old Cato, pausing to take a last look of the +prostrate form, "you's did a heap o' badness. Gone now. Nobody'll say he +care."</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h3>CHAPTER XLIX.</h3> + +<p class='center' style='font-size:smaller;'>ALL'S WELL.</p> + + +<p>Two months have passed since the events recorded in the preceding +chapter. Tom has been arraigned before a jury of his peers, and +honorably acquitted, although strong efforts were made to procure a +conviction, for Mr. Snivel had many friends in Charleston who considered +his death a loss. But the people said it was a righteous verdict, and +justified it by their applause.</p> + +<p>And now, the dark clouds of sorrow and trial having passed away, the +happy dawn of a new life is come. How powerfully the truth of the words +uttered by the woman, Undine, impresses itself on her mind now,—"You +are still richer than me." It is a bright sunny morning in early April. +Birds are making the air melodious with their songs; flowers blooming by +the roadside, are distilling their perfumes; a bright and serene sky, +tinged in the East with soft, azure clouds, gives a clear, delicate +outline to the foliage, so luxuriant and brilliant of color, skirting +the western edge of the harbor, and reflecting itself in the calm, +glassy water. A soft whispering wind comes fragrant from the west; it +does indeed seem as if nature were blending her beauties to make the +harmony perfect.</p> + +<p>A grotesque group, chiefly negroes, old and young, may be seen gathered +about the door of a quaint old personage near the millpond. Their +curiosity is excited to the highest pitch, and they wait with evident +impatience the coming of the object that has called them together. Chief +among the group is old Cato, in his best clothes, consisting of a tall +drab hat, a faded blue coat, the tail extending nearly to the ground, +striped pantaloons, a scarlet vest, an extravagant shirt collar, tied at +the neck with a piece of white cotton, and his bare feet. Cato moves up +and down, evidently feeling himself an important figure of the event, +and admonishing his young "brudren," who are much inclined to mischief, +not a few having perched on the pickets of the parsonage, to keep on +their best behavior. Then he discourses with great volubility of his +long acquaintance with Mas'r Tom and Miss Maria.</p> + +<p>As if to add another prominent picture to the scene, there appears at +the door of the parsonage, every few minutes, a magnificently got-up +negro, portly, grey hair, and venerable, dressed in unsullied black, a +spotless white cravat, and gloves. This is Uncle Pomp, who considers +himself an essential part of the parsonage, and is regarded with awe for +his Bible knowledge by all the colored people of the neighborhood. Pomp +glances up, then down the street, advances a few steps, admonishes the +young negroes, and exchanges bows with Cato, whom he regards as quite a +common brought-up negro compared with himself. Now he disappears, Cato +remarking to his companions that if he had Pomp's knowledge and learning +he would not thank anybody to make him a white man.</p> + +<p>Presently there is a stir in the group: all eyes are turned up the road, +and the cry is, "Dare da comes." Two carriages approach at a rapid +speed, and haul up at the gate, to the evident delight and relief of the +younger members of the group, who close in and begin scattering sprigs +of laurel and flowers along the path, as two couple, in bridal dress, +alight, trip quickly through the garden, and disappear, Pomp bowing +them into the parsonage. Tom and Maria are the central figures of the +interesting ceremony about to be performed. Old Cato received a warm +press of the hand from Tom as he passed, and Cato returned the +recognition, with "God bress Mas'r Tom." A shadow of disappointment +deepened in his face as he saw the door closed, and it occurred to him +that he was not to be a witness of the ceremony. But the door again +opened, and Pomp relieved his wounded feelings by motioning with his +finger, and, when Cato had reached the porch, bowing him into the house.</p> + +<p>And now we have reached the last scene in the picture. There, kneeling +before the altar in the parlor of that quaint old parsonage, are the +happy couple and their companions. The clergyman, in his surplice, reads +the touching service in a clear and impressive voice, while Pomp, in a +pair of antique spectacles, ejaculates the responses in a voice peculiar +to his race. Old Cato, kneeling before a chair near the door, follows +with a loud—Amen. There is something supremely simple, touching, and +impressive in the picture. As the closing words of the benediction fall +from the clergyman's lips, Maria, her pale oval face shadowed with that +sweetness and gentleness an innocent heart only can reflect, raises her +eyes upwards as if to return thanks to the Giver of all good for his +mercy and protection. As she did this a ray of light stole in at the +window and played softly over her features, like a messenger of love +come to announce a happy future. Just then the cup of her joy became +full, and tears, like gems of purest water, glistened in her eyes, then +moistened her pallid cheeks. Truly the woman spoke right when she said,</p> + +<p> +"You are still still richer than me."<br /> +</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> See Senator Sumner's speech in Congress on Plantation +manners.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> An election bully, the ugliest man in Charleston, and the +deadly foe of Mingle.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_3_3" id="Footnote_3_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_3"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> Now called Baxter street</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_4_4" id="Footnote_4_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4_4"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> Now Worth street and Mission Place.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_5_5" id="Footnote_5_5"></a><a href="#FNanchor_5_5"><span class="label">[5]</span></a> A gambling den.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_6_6" id="Footnote_6_6"></a><a href="#FNanchor_6_6"><span class="label">[6]</span></a> Can it be possible that such things as are here pictured +have an existence among a people laying any claim to a state of +civilization? the reader may ask. The author would here say that to the +end of fortifying himself against the charge of exaggeration, he +submitted the MS. of this chapter to a gentleman of the highest +respectability in Charleston, whose unqualified approval it received, as +well as enlisting his sympathies in behalf of the unfortunate lunatics +found in the cells described. Four years have passed since that time. He +subsequently sent the author the following, from the "Charleston +Courier," which speaks for itself. +</p> +<p> +"FROM THE REPORTS OF COUNCIL.<br /> +"January 4th, 1843 +</p> +<p> +"<i>The following communication was received from William M. Lawton, Esq., +Chairman of the Commissioners of the Poor-house.</i> +</p> +<p> +"'Charleston, Dec. 17th, 1852.<br /> +"'To the Honorable, the City Council of Charleston: +</p> +<p> +"'By a resolution of the Board of Commissioners of this City, I have +been instructed to communicate with your honorable body in relation to +the insane paupers now in Poor-house', (the insane in a poor-house!) +'and to request that you will adopt the necessary provision for sending +them to the Lunatic Asylum at Columbia. * * * * There are twelve on the +list, many of whom, it is feared, have already remained too long in an +institution quite unsuited to their unfortunate situation. +</p> +<p> +"'With great respect, your very obedient servant,<br /> +"'(Signed) WM. M. LAWTON,<br /> +"'Chairman of the Board of Commissioners.'"<br /> +</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_7_7" id="Footnote_7_7"></a><a href="#FNanchor_7_7"><span class="label">[7]</span></a> Our Charleston readers will recognize the case here +described, without any further key.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_8_8" id="Footnote_8_8"></a><a href="#FNanchor_8_8"><span class="label">[8]</span></a> An institution for the relief of the destitute.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_9_9" id="Footnote_9_9"></a><a href="#FNanchor_9_9"><span class="label">[9]</span></a> This sight may be seen at any time.</p></div> +</div> + + + +<p style="margin-left: 12em;margin-top: 10em;"> +HOME INSURANCE COMPANY.<br /> +OFFICE, No. 112 & 114 BROADWAY.<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +CASH CAPITAL, ONE MILLION DOLLARS.<br /> +Assets, 1st July, 1860, $1,481,819 27. Liabilities, 1st July, 1860,<br /> +54,068 67.<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +The Home Insurance Company continues to issue against loss or damage<br /> +by FIRE and the dangers of INLAND NAVIGATION AND TRANSPORTATION,<br /> +on terms as favorable as the nature of the risks and the real<br /> +security of the Insured and the Company will warrant.<br /> +<br /> +<b>LOSSES EQUITABLY ADJUSTED AND PROMPTLY PAID.</b><br /> +<br /> +Charles J. Martin, President. A.F. Willmarth, Vice-President.<br /> +<span class="smcap">J. Milton Smith</span>, Secretary. <span class="smcap">John McGee</span>, Assistant Secretary.<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /></p> + + + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="10" summary="directors"> +<tr> +<td colspan='3' align='center'>DIRECTORS.</td> +<td></td> +<td></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>Wm. G. Lambert,</td> +<td> </td> +<td align='right'>of A. & A. Lawrence & Co.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>Geo. C. Collins,</td> +<td> </td> +<td align='right'>of Sherman, Collins & Co.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>Danford N. Barney,</td> +<td> </td> +<td align='right'>of Wells, Fargo & Co.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>Lucius Hopkins,</td> +<td> </td> +<td align='right'>President of Importers and Traders' Bank.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>Thos. Messenger,</td> +<td> </td> +<td align='right'>of T. & H. Messenger.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>Wm. H. Mellen,</td> +<td> </td> +<td align='right'>of Claflin, Mellen & Co.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>Chas. J. Martin,</td> +<td> </td> +<td align='right'>President.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>A.F. Willmarth,</td> +<td> </td> +<td align='right'>Vice-President.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>Charles B. Hatch,</td> +<td> </td> +<td align='right'>of C.B. Hatch & Co.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>B. Watson Bull,</td> +<td> </td> +<td align='right'>of Merrick & Bull.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> Homer Morgan</td> +<td> </td> +<td align='right'> </td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>Levi P. Stone,</td> +<td> </td> +<td align='right'>of Stone, Starr & Co.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>Jas. Humphrey,</td> +<td> </td> +<td align='right'>late of Barney, Humphrey & Butler.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>George Pearce,</td> +<td> </td> +<td align='right'>of George Pearce & Co.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>Ward A. Work,</td> +<td> </td> +<td align='right'>of Ward A. Work & Son.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>James Low,</td> +<td> </td> +<td align='right'>of James Low & Co., of Louisville.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>I.H. Frothingham,</td> +<td> </td> +<td align='right'>late firm of I.H. Frothingham & Co.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>Charles A. Bulkley,</td> +<td> </td> +<td align='right'>Bulkley & Co.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>Geo. D. Morgan,</td> +<td> </td> +<td align='right'>of E.D. Morgan & Co.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>Cephas H. Norton,</td> +<td> </td> +<td align='right'>of Norton & Jewett.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>Theo. McNamee,</td> +<td> </td> +<td align='right'>of Bowen, McNamee & Co.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>Richard Bigelow,</td> +<td> </td> +<td align='right'>of Doan, King & Co., St. Louis.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>Oliver E. Wood,</td> +<td> </td> +<td align='right'>of Willard, Wood & Co.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>Alfred S. Barnes,</td> +<td> </td> +<td align='right'>A.S. Barnes & Burr.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>George Bliss,</td> +<td> </td> +<td align='right'>of Phelps, Bliss & Co.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>Roe Lockwood,</td> +<td> </td> +<td align='right'>of R. Lockwood & Son.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>Levi P. Morton,</td> +<td> </td> +<td align='right'>of Morton, Grinnell & Co.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>Curtis Noble,</td> +<td> </td> +<td align='right'>late of Condit & Noble.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>J.B. Hutchinson,</td> +<td> </td> +<td align='right'>of J.C. Howe & Co., Boston.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>Chas. P. Baldwin,</td> +<td> </td> +<td align='right'>of Baldwin, Starr & Co.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> Amos T. Dwight</td> +<td> </td> +<td align='right'>of Trowbridge, Dwight & Co.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>H.A. Hurlbut,</td> +<td> </td> +<td align='right'>of Swift, Hurlbut & Co.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>Jesse Hoyt,</td> +<td> </td> +<td align='right'>of Jesse Hoyt & Co.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>Wm. Sturgis, Jr.,</td> +<td> </td> +<td align='right'>of Sturgis, Shaw & Co.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>John R. Ford,</td> +<td> </td> +<td align='right'>of Ford Rubber Co.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>Sidney Mason,</td> +<td> </td> +<td align='right'>late of Mason & Thompson.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>Geo. T. Stedman,</td> +<td> </td> +<td align='right'>of Stedman, Carlisle & Shaw, Cincinnati.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>Cyrus Yale, Jr.,</td> +<td> </td> +<td align='right'>of Cyrus Yale, Jr. & Co., of New Orleans.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>Wm. R. Fosdick,</td> +<td> </td> +<td align='right'>of Wm. R. & Chas. B. Fosdick.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>David I. Boyd,</td> +<td> </td> +<td align='right'>of Boyd, Brother & Co., Albany.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>F.H. Cossitt,</td> +<td> </td> +<td align='right'>of Cossitt, Hill & Tallmadge, Memphis.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>Lewis Roberts,</td> +<td> </td> +<td align='right'>of L. Roberts & Co.</td> +</tr> +</table> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of An Outcast, by F. Colburn Adams + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AN OUTCAST *** + +***** This file should be named 20745-h.htm or 20745-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/0/7/4/20745/ + +Produced by Graeme Mackreth, Curtis Weyant and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images produced by the Wright +American Fiction Project.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + + +</pre> + +</body> +</html> diff --git a/20745-page-images.zip b/20745-page-images.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..ff25a22 --- /dev/null +++ b/20745-page-images.zip diff --git a/20745.txt b/20745.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..83ae12a --- /dev/null +++ b/20745.txt @@ -0,0 +1,12209 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of An Outcast, by F. Colburn Adams + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: An Outcast + or, Virtue and Faith + +Author: F. Colburn Adams + +Release Date: March 5, 2007 [EBook #20745] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AN OUTCAST *** + + + + +Produced by Graeme Mackreth, Curtis Weyant and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images produced by the Wright +American Fiction Project.) + + + + + + +AN OUTCAST; + +OR, + +VIRTUE AND FAITH. + +BY + +F. COLBURN ADAMS. + + +"Be merciful to the erring." + +NEW YORK: +PUBLISHED BY M. DOOLADY, +49 WALKER STREET. +1861. + + +Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1861, + +BY M. DOOLADY, + +In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the +Southern District of New York. + + + + +PREFACE. + + +When reason and conscience are a man's true guides to what he +undertakes, and he acts strictly in obedience to them, he has little to +fear from what the unthinking may say. You cannot, I hold, mistake a man +intent only on doing good. You may differ with him on the means he calls +to his aid; but having formed a distinct plan, and carried it out in +obedience to truth and right, it will be difficult to impugn the +sincerity of his motives. For myself, I care not what weapon a man +choose, so long as he wield it effectively, and in the cause of humanity +and justice. We are a sensitive nation, prone to pass great moral evils +over in silence rather than expose them boldly, or trace them to their +true sources. I am not indifferent to the duty every writer owes to +public opinion, nor the penalties he incurs in running counter to it. +But fear of public opinion, it seems to me, has been productive of much +evil, inasmuch as it prefers to let crime exist rather than engage in +reforms. Taking this view of the matter, I hold fear of public opinion +to be an evil much to be deplored. It aids in keeping out of sight that +which should be exposed to public view, and is satisfied to pass +unheeded the greatest of moral evils. Most writers touch these great +moral evils with a timidity that amounts to fear, and in describing +crimes of the greatest magnitude, do it so daintily as to divest their +arguments of all force. The public cannot reasonably be expected to +apply a remedy for an evil, unless the cause as well as the effect be +exposed truthfully to its view. It is the knowledge of their existence +and the magnitude of their influence upon society, which no false +delicacy should keep out of sight, that nerves the good and generous to +action. I am aware that in exciting this action, great care should be +taken lest the young and weak-minded become fascinated with the gilding +of the machinery called to the writer's aid. It is urged by many good +people, who take somewhat narrow views of this subject, that in dealing +with the mysteries of crime vice should only be described as an ugly +dame with most repulsive features. I differ with those persons. It would +be a violation of the truth to paint her thus, and few would read of her +in such an unsightly dress. These persons do not, I think, take a +sufficiently clear view of the grades into which the vicious of our +community are divided, and their different modes of living. They found +their opinions solely on the moral and physical condition of the most +wretched and abject class, whose sufferings they would have us hold up +to public view, a warning to those who stand hesitating on the brink +between virtue and vice. I hold it better to expose the allurements +first, and then paint vice in her natural colors--a dame so gay and +fascinating that it is difficult not to become enamored of her. The ugly +and repulsive dame would have few followers, and no need of writers to +caution the unwary against her snares. And I cannot forget, that truth +always carries the more forcible lesson. But we must paint the road to +vice as well as the castle, if we would give effect to our warning. That +road is too frequently strewn with the brightest of flowers, the thorns +only discovering themselves when the sweetness of the flowers has +departed. I have chosen, then, to describe things as they are. You, +reader, must be the judge whether I have put too much gilding on the +decorations. + +I confess that the subject of this work was not congenial to my +feelings. I love to deal with the bright and cheerful of life; to leave +the dark and sorrowful to those whose love for them is stronger than +mine. Nor am I insensible to the liabilities incurred by a writer who, +having found favor with the public, ventures upon so delicate and +hazardous an undertaking. It matters not how carefully and discreetly he +perform the task, there will always be persons enough to question his +sincerity and cast suspicion upon his motives. What, I have already been +asked, was my motive for writing such a book as this? Why did I descend +into the repulsive haunts of the wretched and the gilded palaces of the +vicious for the material of a novel? My answer is in my book. + +NEW YORK, _January 1st_, 1861. + + + + +AN OUTCAST. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +CHARLESTON. + + +This simple story commences on a November evening, in the autumn of +185-. Charleston and New York furnish me with the scenes and characters. + +Our quaint old city has been in a disquiet mood for several weeks. +Yellow fever has scourged us through the autumn, and we have again taken +to scourging ourselves with secession fancies. The city has not looked +up for a month. Fear had driven our best society into the North, into +the mountains, into all the high places. Business men had nothing to do; +stately old mansions were in the care of faithful slaves, and there was +high carnival in the kitchen. Fear had shut up the churches, shut up the +law-courts, shut up society generally. There was nothing for lawyers to +do, and the buzzards found it lonely enough in the market-place. The +clergy were to be found at fashionable watering-places, and politicians +found comfort in cards and the country. Timid doctors had taken to their +heels, and were not to be found. Book-keepers and bank-clerks were on +Sullivan's Island. The poor suffered in the city, and the rich had not a +thought to give them. Grave-looking men gathered into little knots, at +street corners, and talked seriously of Death's banquet. Old negroes +gathered about the kitchen-table, and terrified themselves with tales of +death: timid ones could not be got to pass through streets where the +scourge raged fiercest. Mounted guardsmen patrolled the lonely streets +at night, their horses' hoofs sounding on the still air, like a solemn +warning through a deserted city. + +Sisters of Mercy, in deep, dark garments, moved noiselessly along the +streets, by day and by night, searching out and ministering to the sick +and the dying. Like brave sentinels, they never deserted their posts. +The city government was in a state of torpor. The city government did +not know what to do. The city government never did know what to do. Four +hundred sick and dying lay languishing in the hospital. The city +government was sorry for them, and resolved that Providence would be the +best doctor. The dead gave place to the dying by dozens, and there has +been high carnival down in the dead-yard. The quick succession of +funeral trains has cast a shade of melancholy over the broad road that +leads to it. Old women are vending pies and cakes at the gates, and +little boys are sporting over the newly-made graves, that the wind has +lashed into furrows. Rude coffins stand about in piles, and tipsy +negroes are making the very air jubilant with the songs they bury the +dead to. + +A change has come over the scene now. There is no more singing down in +the dead-yard. A bright sun is shedding its cheerful rays over the broad +landscape, flowers deck the roadside, and the air comes balmy and +invigorating. There has been frost down in the lowlands. A solitary +stranger paces listlessly along the walks of the dead-yard, searching +in vain for the grave of a departed friend. The scourge has left a sad +void between friends living and friends gone to eternal rest. Familiar +faces pass us on the street, only to remind us of familiar faces passed +away forever. The city is astir again. Society is coming back to us. +There is bustle in the churches, bustle in the law courts, bustle in the +hotels, bustle along the streets, bustle everywhere. There is bustle at +the steamboat landings, bustle at the railway stations, bustle in all +our high places. Vehicles piled with trunks are hurrying along the +streets; groups of well-dressed negroes are waiting their master's +return at the landings, or searching among piles of trunks for the +family baggage. Other groups are giving Mas'r and Missus such a cordial +greeting. Society is out of an afternoon, on King street, airing its +dignity. There is Mr. Midshipman Button, in his best uniform, inviting +the admiration of the fair, and making such a bow to all distinguished +persons. Midshipman Button, as he is commonly called, has come home to +us, made known to us the pleasing fact that he is ready to command our +"navy" for us, whenever we build it for him. There is Major Longstring, +of the Infantry, as fine a man in his boots as woman would fancy, ready +to fight any foe; and corporal Quod, of the same regiment, ready to +shoulder his weapon and march at a moment. We have an immense admiration +for all these heroes, just now; it is only equalled by their admiration +of themselves. The buzzards, too, have assumed an unusual air of +importance--are busy again in the market; and long-bearded politicians +are back again, at their old business, getting us in a state of +discontent with the Union and everybody in general. + +There is a great opening of shutters among the old mansions. The music +of the organ resounds in the churches, and we are again in search of the +highest pinnacle to pin our dignity upon. Our best old families have +been doing the North extensively, and come home to us resolved never to +go North again. But it is fashionable to go North, and they will break +this resolution when spring comes. Mamma, and Julia Matilda have brought +home an immense stock of Northern millinery, all paid for with the +hardest of Southern money, which papa declares the greatest evil the +state suffers under. He has been down in the wilderness for the last ten +years, searching in vain for a remedy. The North is the hungry dog at +the door, and he will not be kicked away. So we have again mounted that +same old hobby-horse. There was so much low-breeding at the North, +landlords were so extortionate, vulgarity in fine clothes got in your +way wherever you went, servants were so impertinent, and the trades +people were so given to cheating. We would shake our garments of the +North, if only some one would tell us how to do it becomingly. + +Master Tom and Julia Matilda differ with the old folks on this great +question of bidding adieu to the North. Tom had a "high old time +generally," and is sorry the season closed so soon. Julia Matilda has +been in a pensive mood ever since she returned. That fancy ball was so +brilliant; those moonlight drives were so pleasant; those flirtations +were carried on with such charming grace! A dozen little love affairs, +like pleasant dreams, are touching her heart with their sweet +remembrance. The more she contemplates them the sadder she becomes. +There are no drives on the beach now, no moonlight rambles, no +promenades down the great, gay verandah, no waltzing, no soul-stirring +music, no tender love-tales told under the old oaks. But they brighten +in her fancy, and she sighs for their return. She is a prisoner now, +surrounded by luxury in the grim old mansion. Julia Matilda and Master +Tom will return to the North when spring comes, and enjoy whatever there +is to be enjoyed, though Major Longstring and Mr. Midshipman Button +should get us safe out of the Union. + +Go back with us, reader, not to the dead-yard, but to the quiet walks of +Magnolia Cemetery, hard by. A broad avenue cuts through the centre, and +stretches away to the west, down a gently undulating slope. Rows of tall +pines stand on either side, their branches forming an arch overhead, and +hung with long, trailing moss, moving and whispering mysteriously in the +gentle wind. Solemn cypress trees mark the by-paths; delicate flowers +bloom along their borders, and jessamine vines twine lovingly about the +branches of palmetto and magnolia trees. An air of enchanting harmony +pervades the spot; the dead could repose in no prettier shade. +Exquisitely chiselled marbles decorate the resting-places of the rich; +plain slabs mark those of the poor. + +It is evening now. The shadows are deepening down the broad avenue, the +wind sighs touchingly through the tall pines, and the sinking sun is +shedding a deep purple hue over the broad landscape. A solitary +mocking-bird has just tuned its last note, and sailed swiftly into the +dark hedgerow, down in the dead-yard. + +A young girl, whose fair oval face the sun of eighteen summers has +warmed into exquisite beauty, sits musingly under a cypress tree. Her +name is Anna Bonnard, and she is famous in all the city for her beauty, +as well as the symmetry of her form. Her dress is snowy white, fastened +at the neck with a blue ribbon, and the skirts flowing. Her face is +like chiselled marble, her eyes soft, black, and piercing, and deep, +dark tresses of silky hair fall down her shoulders to her waist. Youth, +beauty, and innocence are written in every feature of that fair face, +over which a pensive smile now plays, then deepens into sadness. Here +she has sat for several minutes, her head resting lightly on her right +hand, and her broad sun-hat in her left, looking intently at a newly +sodded grave with a plain white slab, on which is inscribed, in black +letters--"Poor Miranda." This is all that betrays the sleeper beneath. + +"And this is where they have laid her," she says, with a sigh. "Poor +Miranda! like me, she was lost to this world. The world only knew the +worst of her." And the tears that steal from her eyes tell the tale of +her affection. "Heaven will deal kindly with the outcast, for Heaven +only knows her sorrows." She rises quickly from her seat, casts a glance +over the avenue, then pats the sods with her hands, and strews cypress +branches and flowers over the grave, saying, "This is the last of poor +Miranda. Some good friend has laid her here, and we are separated +forever. It was misfortune that made us friends." She turns slowly from +the spot, and walks down the avenue towards the great gate leading to +the city. A shadow crosses her path; she hesitates, and looks with an +air of surprise as the tall figure of a man advances hastily, saying, +"Welcome, sweet Anna--welcome home." + +He extends his gloved hand, which she receives with evident reluctance. +"Pray what brought you here, Mr. Snivel?" she inquires, fixing her eyes +on him, suspiciously. + +"If you would not take it impertinent, I might ask you the same +question. No, I will not. It was your charms, sweetest Anna. Love can +draw me--I am a worshipper at its fountain. And as for law,--you know I +live by that." + +Mr. Snivel is what may be called a light comedy lawyer; ready to enter +the service of any friend in need. He is commonly called "Snivel the +lawyer," although the profession regard him with suspicion, and society +keeps him on its out skirts. He is, in a word, a sportsman of small +game, ready to bring down any sort of bird that chances within reach of +his fowling-piece. He is tall of figure and slender, a pink of fashion +in dress, wears large diamonds, an eye-glass, and makes the most of a +light, promising moustache. His face is small, sharp, and discolored +with the sun, his eyes grey and restless, his hair fair, his mouth wide +and characterless. Cunning and low intrigue are marked in every feature +of his face; and you look in vain for the slightest evidence of a frank +and manly nature. + +"Only heard you were home an hour ago. Set right off in pursuit of you. +Cannot say exactly what impelled me. Love, perhaps, as I said before." +Mr. Snivel twirls his hat in the air, and condescends to say he feels in +an exceedingly happy state of mind. "I knew you needed a protector, and +came to offer myself as your escort. I take this occasion to say, that +you have always seen me in the false light my enemies magnify me in." + +"I have no need of your escort, Mr. Snivel; and your friendship I can +dispense with, since, up to this time, it has only increased my +trouble," she interposes, continuing down the avenue. + +"We all need friends----" + +"True friends, you mean, Mr. Snivel." + +"Well, then, have it so. You hold that all is false in men. I hold no +such thing. Come, give me your confidence, Anna. Look on the bright +side. Forget the past, and let the present serve. When you want a +friend, or a job of law, call on me." Mr. Snivel adjusts his eye-glass, +and again twirls his hat. + +The fair girl shakes her head and says, "she hopes never to need either. +But, tell me, Mr. Snivel, are you not the messenger of some one else?" +she continues. + +"Well, I confess," he replies, with a bow, "its partly so and partly not +so. I came to put in one word for myself and two for the judge. Its no +breach of confidence to say he loves you to distraction. At home in any +court, you know, and stands well with the bar----" + +"Love for me! He can have no love for me. I am but an outcast, tossed on +the sea of uncertainty; all bright to-day, all darkness to-morrow. Our +life is a stream of excitement, down which we sail quickly to a +miserable death. I know the doom, and feel the pang. But men do not love +us, and the world never regrets us. Go, tell him to forget me." + +"Forget you? not he. Sent me to say he would meet you to-night. You are +at the house of Madame Flamingo, eh?" + +"I am; and sorry am I that I am. Necessity has no choice." + +"You have left Mulholland behind, eh? Never was a fit companion for you. +Can say that without offence. He is a New York rough, you know. +Charleston gentlemen have a holy dislike of such fellows." + +"He has been good to me. Why should I forsake him for one who affects to +love me to-day, and will loathe me to-morrow? He has been my only true +friend. Heaven may smile on us some day, and give us enough to live a +life of virtue and love. As for the mystery that separates me from my +parents, that had better remain unsolved forever." As she says this, +they pass out of the great gate, and are on the road to the city. + +A darker scene is being enacted in a different part of the city. A grim +old prison, its walls, like the state's dignity, tumbling down and going +to decay; its roof black with vegetating moss, and in a state of +dilapidation generally,--stands, and has stood for a century or more, on +the western outskirts of the city. We have a strange veneration for this +damp old prison, with its strange histories cut on its inner walls. It +has been threatening to tumble down one of these days, and it does not +say much for our civilization that we have let it stand. But the +question is asked, and by grave senators, if we pull it down, what shall +we do with our pick-pockets and poor debtors? We mix them nicely up +here, and throw in a thief for a messmate. What right has a poor debtor +to demand that the sovereign state of South Carolina make a distinction +between poverty and crime? It pays fifteen cents a day for getting them +all well starved; and there its humanity ends, as all state humanity +should end. + +The inner iron gate has just closed, and two sturdy constables have +dragged into the corridor a man, or what liquor has left of a man, and +left him prostrate and apparently insensible on the floor. "Seventh time +we've bring'd him 'ere a thin two months. Had to get a cart, or Phin and +me never'd a got him 'ere," says one of the men, drawing a long breath, +and dusting the sleeves of his coat with his hands. + +"An officer earns what money he gits a commitin' such a cove," says the +other, shaking his head, and looking down resentfully at the man on the +floor. "Life'll go out on him like a kan'l one of these days." Officer +continues moralizing on the bad results of liquor, and deliberately +draws a commitment from his breast pocket. "Committed by Justice +Snivel--breaking the peace at the house of Madame----" He cannot make +out the name. + +First officer interposes learnedly--"Madame Flamingo." "Sure enuf, he's +been playin' his shines at the old woman's house again. Why, Master +Jailer, Justice Snivel must a made fees enuf a this 'ere cove to make a +man rich enough," continues Mr. Constable Phin. + +"As unwelcome a guest as comes to this establishment," rejoins the +corpulent old jailer, adjusting his spectacles, and reading the +commitment, a big key hanging from the middle finger of his left hand. +"Used to be sent up here by his mother, to be starved into reform. He is +past reform. The poor-house is the place to send him to, 'tis." + +"Well, take good care on him, Master Jailer, now you've got him. He +comes of a good enough family," says the first officer. + +"He's bin in this condition more nor a week--layin' down yonder, in Snug +Harbor. Liquor's drived all the sense out on him," rejoins the +second--and bidding the jailer good-morning, they retire. + +The forlorn man still lies prostrate on the floor, his tattered garments +and besotted face presenting a picture of the most abject wretchedness. +The old jailer looks down upon him with an air of sympathy, and shakes +his head. + +"The doctor that can cure you doesn't live in this establishment," he +says. The sound of a voice singing a song is heard, and the figure of a +powerfully framed man, dressed in a red shirt and grey homespun +trousers, advances, folds his arms deliberately, and contemplates with +an air of contempt the prostrate man. His broad red face, flat nose, +massive lips, and sharp grey eyes, his crispy red hair, bristling over a +low narrow forehead, and two deep scars on the left side of his face, +present a picture of repulsiveness not easily described. Silently and +sullenly he contemplates the object before him for several minutes, then +says: + +"Dogs take me, Mister Jailer! but he's what I calls run to the dogs. +That's what whisky's did for him." + +"And what it will do for you one of these days," interrupts the jailer, +admonishingly. "Up for disturbing the peace at Madame Flamingo's. +Committed by Justice Snivel." + +"Throwing stones by way of repentance, eh? Tom was, at one time, as good +a customer as that house had. A man's welcome at that house when he's up +in the world. He's sure a gittin' kicked out when he is down." + +"He's here, and we must get him to a cell," says the jailer, setting his +key down and preparing to lift the man on his feet. + +"Look a here, Tom Swiggs,--in here again, eh?" resumes the man in the +red shirt. "Looks as if you liked the institution. Nice son of a +respectable mother, you is!" He stoops down and shakes the prostrate man +violently. + +The man opens his eyes, and casts a wild glance on the group of wan +faces peering eagerly at him. "I am bad enough. You are no better than +me," he whispers. "You are always here." + +"Not always. I am a nine months' guest. In for cribbing voters. Let out +when election day comes round, and paid well for my services. Sent up +when election is over, and friends get few. No moral harm in cribbing +voters. You wouldn't be worth cribbing, eh, Tom? There ain't no +politician what do'nt take off his hat, and say--'Glad to see you, +Mister Mingle,' just afore election." The man folds his arms and walks +sullenly down the corridor, leaving the newcomer to his own reflections. +There is a movement among the group looking on; and a man in the garb of +a sailor advances, presses his way through, and seizing the prostrate by +the hand, shakes it warmly and kindly. "Sorry to see you in here agin, +Tom," he says, his bronzed face lighting up with the fires of a generous +heart. "There's no man in this jail shall say a word agin Tom Swiggs. We +have sailed shipmates in this old craft afore." + +The man was a sailor, and the prisoner's called him Spunyarn, by way of +shortness. Indeed, he had became so familiarized to the name, that he +would answer to none other. His friendship for the inebriate was of the +most sincere kind. He would watch over him, and nurse him into sobriety, +with the care and tenderness of a brother. "Tom was good to me, when he +had it;" he says, with an air of sympathy. "And here goes for lendin' a +hand to a shipmate in distress." He takes one arm and the jailer the +other, and together they support the inebriate to his cell. "Set me down +for a steady boarder, and have done with it," the forlorn man mutters, +as they lay him gently upon the hard cot. "Down for steady board, +jailer--that's it." + +"Steady, steady now," rejoins the old sailor, as the inebriate tosses +his arms over his head. "You see, there's a heavy ground swell on just +now, and a chap what don't mind his helm is sure to get his spars +shivered." He addresses the the jailer, who stands looking with an air +of commiseration on the prostrate man. "Take in head-sail--furl +top-gallant-sails--reef topsails--haul aft main-sheet--put her helm +hard down--bring her to the wind, and there let her lay until it comes +clear weather." The man writhes and turns his body uneasily. "There, +there," continues the old sailor, soothingly; "steady, steady,--keep her +away a little, then let her luff into a sound sleep. Old Spunyarn's the +boy what'll stand watch." A few minutes more and the man is in a deep, +sound sleep, the old sailor keeping watch over him so kindly, so like a +true friend. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +THE HOUSE OF A VERY DISTINGUISHED LADY. + + +The mansion of Madame Flamingo stands stately in Berresford street. An +air of mystery hangs over it by day, and it is there young Charleston +holds high carnival at night. It is a very distinguished house, and +Madame Flamingo assures us she is a very distinguished lady, who means +to make her peace with heaven before she dies, and bestow largely on the +priests, who have promised to make her comfortable while on the road +through purgatory. The house is in high favor with young Charleston, and +old Charleston looks in now and then. Our city fathers have great +sympathy for it, and protect it with their presence. Verily it is a +great gate on the road to ruin, and thousands pass heedlessly through +its decorated walks, quickly reaching the dark end. + +It is evening, and thin fleecy clouds flit along the heavens. The gas +sheds a pale light over the streets, and shadowy figures pass and repass +us as we turn into the narrow street leading to the house of the old +hostess. We have reached the great arched door, and stand in the shadow +of a gas-light, playing over its trap, its network of iron, and its +bright, silver plate. We pause and contemplate the massive walls, as the +thought flashes upon us--How mighty is vice, that it has got such a +mansion dedicated to its uses! Even stranger thoughts than these flit +through the mind as we hesitate, and touch the bell timidly. Now, we +have excited your curiosity, and shall not turn until we have shown you +what there is within. + +We hear the bell faintly tinkle--now voices in loud conversation break +upon the ear--then all is silent. Our anxiety increases, and keeps +increasing, until a heavy footstep is heard advancing up the hall. Now +there is a whispering within--then a spring clicks, and a small square +panel opens and is filled with a broad fat face, with deep blue eyes and +a profusion of small brown curls, all framed in a frosty cap-border. It +is the old hostess, done up in her best book muslin, and so well +preserved. + +"Gentlemen, or ain't ye gentlemen?" inquires the old hostess, in a low +voice. "This is a respectable house, I'd have you remember. Gentlemen +what ain't gentlemen don't git no show in this house--no they don't." +She looks curiously at us, and pauses for a reply. The display of a kid +glove and a few assuring words gain us admittance into the great hall, +where a scene of barbaric splendor excites curious emotions. "There +ain't nothin' but gentlemen gets into this house--they don't! and when +they are in they behaves like gentlemen," says the hostess, bowing +gracefully, and closing the door after us. + +The time prints of sixty summers have furrowed the old hostess' brow, +and yet she seems not more than forty--is short of figure, and weighs +two hundred. Soft Persian carpets cover the floor, lounges, in carved +walnut and satin, stand along the sides; marble busts on pedestals, and +full-length figures of statesmen and warriors are interspersed at short +intervals; and the ceiling is frescoed in uncouth and fierce-looking +figures. Flowers hang from niches in the cornice; a marble group, +representing St. George and the dragon, stands at the foot of a broad +circular stairs; tall mirrors reflect and magnify each object, and over +all the gas from three chandeliers sheds a bewitching light. Such is the +gaudy scene that excites the fancy, but leaves our admiration unmoved. + +"This is a castle, and a commonwealth, gentlemen. Cost me a deal of +money; might get ruined if gentlemen forgot how to conduct themselves. +Ladies like me don't get much credit for the good they do. Gentlemen +will be introduced into the parlor when they are ready," says the old +hostess, stepping briskly round us, and watching our every movement; we +are new-comers, and her gaudy tabernacle is novel to us. + +"Have educated a dozen young men to the law, and made gentlemen of a +dozen more, excellent young men--fit for any society. Don't square my +accounts with the world, as the world squares its account with me," she +continues, with that air which vice affects while pleading its own +cause. She cannot shield the war of conscience that is waging in her +heart; but, unlike most of those engaged in her unnatural trade, there +is nothing in her face to indicate a heart naturally inclined to evil. +It is indeed bright with smiles, and you see only the picture of a being +sailing calmly down the smooth sea of peace and contentment. Her dress +is of black glossy satin, a cape of fine point lace covers her broad +shoulders, and bright blue cap-ribbons stream down her back. + +"Listen," says the old hostess--"there's a full house to-night. Both +parlors are full. All people of good society!" she continues, +patronizingly. "Them what likes dancin' dances in the left-hand parlor. +Them what prefers to sit and converse, converses in the right-hand +parlor. Some converses about religion, some converses about +politics--(by way of lettin' you know my position, I may say that I go +for secession, out and out)--some converses about law, some converses +about beauty. There isn't a lady in this house as can't converse on +anything." Madame places her ear to the door, and thrusts her fat +jewelled fingers under her embroidered apron. + +"This is my best parlor, gentlemen," she resumes; "only gentlemen of +deportment are admitted--I might add, them what takes wine, and, if they +does get a little in liquor, never loses their dignity." Madame bows, +and the door of her best parlor swings open, discovering a scene of +still greater splendor. + +"Gentlemen as can't enjoy themselves in my house, don't know how to +enjoy anything. Them is all gentlemen you see, and them is all ladies +you see," says the hostess, as we advance timidly into the room, the air +of which is sickly of perfumes. The foot falls upon the softest of +carpets; quaint shadows, from stained-glass windows are flitting and +dancing on the frescoed ceiling; curtains of finest brocade, enveloped +in lace, fall cloud-like down the windows. The borderings are of +amber-colored satin, and heavy cornices, over which eagles in gilt are +perched, surmount the whole. Pictures no artist need be ashamed of +decorate the walls, groups in bronze and Parian, stand on pedestals +between the windows, and there is a regal air about the furniture, which +is of the most elaborate workmanship. But the living figures moving to +and fro, some in uncouth dresses and some scarce dressed at all, and all +reflected in the great mirrors, excite the deepest interest. Truly it is +here that vice has arrayed itself in fascinating splendors, and the +young and the old have met to pay it tribute. The reckless youth meets +the man high in power here. The grave exchange salutations with the gay. +Here the merchant too often meets his clerk, and the father his son. +And before this promiscuous throng women in bright but scanty drapery, +and wan faces, flaunt their charms. + +Sitting on a sofa, is the fair young girl we saw at the cemetery. By her +side is a man of venerable presence, endeavoring to engage her in +conversation. Her face is shadowed in a pensive smile;--she listens to +what falls from the lips of her companion, shakes her head negatively, +and watches the movements of a slender, fair-haired young man, who +saunters alone on the opposite side of the room. He has a deep interest +in the fair girl, and at every turn casts a look of hate and scorn at +her companion, who is no less a person than Judge Sleepyhorn, of this +history. + +"Hain't no better wine nowhere, than's got in this house," ejaculates +the old hostess, calling our attention to a massive side-board, covered +with cut-glass of various kinds. "A gentleman what's a gentleman may get +a little tipsy, providin' he do it on wine as is kept in this house, and +carry himself square." Madame motions patronizingly with her hand, bows +condescendingly, and says, "Two bottles I think you ordered, +gentlemen--what gentlemen generally call for." + +Having bowed assent, and glad to get off so cheaply, Manfredo, a slave +in bright livery, is directed to bring it in. + +Mr. Snivel enters, to the great delight of the old hostess and various +friends of the house. "Mr. Snivel is the spirit of this house," resumes +the old hostess, by way of introduction; "a gentleman of distinction in +the law." She turns to Mr. Snivel inquiringly. "You sent that ruffin, +Tom Swiggs, up for me to-day?" + +"Lord bless you, yes--gave him two months for contemplation. Get well +starved at fifteen cents a day----" + +"Sorry for the fellow," interrupts the old hostess, sympathizingly. +"That's what comes a drinkin' bad liquor. Tom used to be a first-rate +friend of this house--spent heaps of money, and we all liked him so. +Tried hard to make a man of Tom. Couldn't do it." Madame shakes her head +in sadness. "Devil got into him, somehow. Ran down, as young men will +when they gets in the way. I does my part to save them, God knows." A +tear almost steals into Madame's eyes. "When Tom used to come here, +looking so down, I'd give him a few dollars, and get him to go somewhere +else. Had to keep up the dignity of the house, you know. A man as takes +his liquor as Tom does ain't fit company for my house." + +Mr. Snivel says: "As good advice, which I am bound to give his mother, I +shall say she'd better give him steady lodgings in jail." He turns and +recognizes his friend, the judge, and advances towards him. As he does +so, Anna rises quickly to her feet, and with a look of contempt, +addressing the judge, says, "Never, never. You deceived me once, you +never shall again. You ask me to separate myself from him. No, never, +never." And as she turns to walk away the judge seizes her by the hand, +and retains her. "You must not go yet," he says. + +"She shall go!" exclaims the fair young man, who has been watching their +movements. "Do you know me? I am the George Mulholland you are plotting +to send to the whipping-post,--to accomplish your vile purposes. No, +sir, I am not the man you took me for, as I would show you were it not +for your grey hairs." He releases her from the judge's grasp, and stands +menacing that high old functionary with his finger. "I care not for your +power. Take this girl from me, and you pay the penalty with your life. +We are equals here. Release poor Langdon from prison, and go pay +penance over the grave of his poor wife. It's the least you can do. You +ruined her--you can't deny it." Concluding, he clasps the girl in his +arms, to the surprise of all present, and rushes with her out of the +house. + +The house of Madame Flamingo is in a very distinguished state of +commotion. Men sensitive of their reputations, and fearing the presence +of the police, have mysteriously disappeared. Madame is in a fainting +condition, and several of her heroic damsels have gone screaming out of +the parlor, and have not been seen since. + +Matters have quieted down now. Mr. Snivel consoles the judge for the +loss of dignity he has suffered, Madame did not quite faint, and there +is peace in the house. + +Manfredo, his countenance sullen, brings in the wine. Manfredo is in bad +temper to-night. He uncorks the bottles and lets the wine foam over the +table, the sight of which sends Madame into a state of distress. + +"This is all I gets for putting such good livery on you!" she says, +pushing him aside with great force. "That's thirty-nine for you in the +morning, well-laid on. You may prepare for it. Might have known better +(Madame modifies her voice) than buy a nigger of a clergyman!" She +commences filling the glasses herself, again addressing Manfredo, the +slave: "Don't do no good to indulge you. This is the way you pay me for +lettin' you go to church of a Sunday. Can't give a nigger religion +without his gettin' a big devil in him at the same time." + +Manfredo passes the wine to her guests, in sullen silence, and they +drink to the prosperity of the house. + +And now it is past midnight; the music in the next parlor has ceased, +St. Michael's clock has struck the hour of one, and business is at an +end in the house of the old hostess. A few languid-looking guests still +remain, the old hostess is weary with the fatigues of the night, and +even the gas seems to burn dimmer. The judge and Mr. Snivel are the last +to take their departure, and bid the hostess good-night. "I could not +call the fellow out," says the judge, as they wend their way into King +street. "I can only effect my purpose by getting him into my power. To +do that you must give me your assistance." + +"Remain silent on that point," returns the other. "You have only to +leave its management to me. Nothing is easier than to get such a fellow +into the power of the law." + +On turning into King street they encounter a small, youthful looking +man, hatless and coatless, his figure clearly defined in the shadows of +the gas-light, engaged in a desperate combat with the lamp-post. "Now, +Sir, defend yourself, and do it like a man, for you have the reputation +of being a craven coward," says the man, cutting and thrusting furiously +at the lamp-post; Snivel and Sleepyhorn pause, and look on astonished. +"Truly the poor man's mad," says Sleepyhorn, touching his companion on +the arm--"uncommonly mad for the season." + +Mr. Snivel whispers, "Not so mad. Only courageously tight." "Gentlemen!" +says the man, reproachfully, "I am neither mad nor drunk." Here he +strikes an attitude of defence, cutting one, two, and three with his +small sword. "I am Mister Midshipman Button--no madman, not a bit of it. +As brave a man as South Carolina ever sent into the world. A man of +pluck, Sir, and genuine, at that." Again he turns and makes several +thrusts at the lamp-post, demanding that it surrender and get down on +its knees, in abject obedience to superior prowess. + +"Button, Button, my dear fellow, is it you? What strange freak is this?" +inquires Mr. Snivel, extending his hand, which the little energetic man +refuses to take. + +"Mister Midshipman Button, if you please, gentlemen," replies the man, +with an air of offended dignity. "I'm a gentleman, a man of honor, and +what's more, a Carolinian bred and born, or born and bred--cut it as you +like it." He makes several powerful blows at the lamp-post, and succeeds +only in breaking his sword. + +"Poor man," says the judge, kindly, "he is in need of friends to take +care of him, and advise him properly. He has not far to travel before he +gets into the mad-house." + +The man overhears his remarks, and with a vehement gesture and flourish +of his broken sword, says, "Do you not see, gentlemen, what work I have +made of this Northern aggressor, this huge enemy bringing oppression to +our very doors?" He turns and addresses the lamp-post in a tone of +superiority. "Surrender like a man, and confess yourself vanquished, +Northern aggressor that you are! You see, gentlemen, I have gained a +victory--let all his bowels out. Honor all belongs to my native state--I +shall resign it all to her." Here the man begins to talk in so wild a +strain, and to make so many demands of his imaginary enemy, that they +called a passing guardsman, who, seeing his strange condition, replaced +his hat, and assisted them in getting him to a place of safety for the +night, when sleep and time would restore him to a sound state of mind. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +IN WHICH THE READER IS PRESENTED WITH A VARIED PICTURE. + + +Tom has passed a restless night in jail. He has dreamed of bottled +snakes, with eyes wickedly glaring at him; of fiery-tailed serpents +coiling all over him; of devils in shapes he has no language to +describe; of the waltz of death, in which he danced at the mansion of +Madame Flamingo; and of his mother, (a name ever dear in his thoughts,) +who banished him to this region of vice, for what she esteemed a moral +infirmity. Further on in his dream he saw a vision, a horrible vision, +which was no less than a dispute for his person between Madame Flamingo, +a bishop, and the devil. But Madame Flamingo and the devil, who seemed +to enjoy each other's company exceedingly, got the better of the bishop, +who was scrupulous of his dignity, and not a little anxious about being +seen in such society. And from the horrors of this dream he wakes, +surprised to find himself watched over by a kind friend--a young, +comely-featured man, in whom he recognizes the earnest theologian, as he +is plumed by the prisoners, whom he daily visits in his mission of good. +There was something so frank and gentle in this young man's +demeanor--something so manly and radiant in his countenance--something +so disinterested and holy in his mission of love--something so opposite +to the coldness of the great world without--something so serene and +elevated in his youth, that even the most inveterate criminal awaited +his coming with emotions of joy, and gave a ready ear to his kindly +advice. Indeed, the prisoners called him their child; and he seemed not +dainty of their approach, but took them each by the hand, sat at their +side, addressed them as should one brother address another;--yea, he +made them to feel that what was their interest it was his joy to +promote. + +The young theologian took him a seat close by the side of the dreaming +inebriate; and as he woke convulsively, and turned towards him his +distorted face, viewing with wild stare each object that met his sight, +the young man met his recognition with a smile and a warm grasp of the +hand. "I am sorry you find me here again--yes, I am." + +"Better men, perhaps, have been here--" + +"I am ashamed of it, though; it isn't as it should be, you see," +interrupts Tom. + +"Never mind--(the young man checks himself)--I was going to say there is +a chance for you yet; and there is a chance; and you must struggle; and +I will help you to struggle; and your friends--" + +Tom interrupts by saying, "I've no friends." + +"I will help you to struggle, and to overcome the destroyer. Never think +you are friendless, for then you are a certain victim in the hands of +the ruthless enemy--" + +"Well, well," pauses Tom, casting a half-suspicious look at the young +man, "I forgot. There's you, and him they call old Spunyarn, are +friends, after all. You'll excuse me, but I didn't think of that;" and a +feeling of satisfaction seemed to have come over him. "How grateful to +have friends when a body's in a place of this kind," he mutters +incoherently, as the tears gush from his distended eyes, and childlike +he grasps the hand of the young man. + +"Be comforted with the knowledge that you have friends, Tom. One +all-important thing is wanted, and you are a man again." + +"As to that!" interrupts Tom, doubtingly, and laying his begrimed hand +on his burning forehead, while he alternately frets and frisks his +fingers through his matted hair. + +"Have no doubts, Tom--doubts are dangerous." + +"Well, say what it is, and I'll try what I can do. But you won't think +I'm so bad as I seem, and'll forgive me? I know what you think of me, +and that's what mortifies me; you think I'm an overdone specimen of our +chivalry--you do!" + +"You must banish from your mind these despairing thoughts," replies the +young man, laying his right hand approvingly on Tom's head. "First, +Tom," he pursues, "be to yourself a friend; second, forget the error of +your mother, and forgive her sending you here; and third, cut the house +of Madame Flamingo, in which our chivalry are sure to get a shattering. +To be honest in temptation, Tom, is one of the noblest attributes of our +nature; and to be capable of forming and maintaining a resolution to +shake off the thraldom of vice, and to place oneself in the serener +atmosphere of good society, is equally worthy of the highest +commendation." + +Tom received this in silence, and seemed hesitating between what he +conceived an imperative demand and the natural inclination of his +passions. + +"Give me your hand, and with it your honor--I know you yet retain the +latent spark--and promise me you will lock up the cup--" + +"You'll give a body a furlough, by the way of blowing off the fuddle he +has on hand?" + +"I do not withhold from you any discretionary indulgence that may bring +relief--" + +Tom interrupts by saying, "My mother, you know!" + +"I will see her, and plead with her on your behalf; and if she have a +mother's feelings I can overcome her prejudice." + +Tom says, despondingly, he has no home to go to. It's no use seeing his +mother; she's all dignity, and won't let it up an inch. "If I could only +persuade her--" Tom pauses here and shakes his head. + +"Pledge me your honor you'll from this day form a resolution to reform, +Tom; and if I do not draw from your mother a reconciliation, I will seek +a home for you elsewhere." + +"Well, there can't be much harm in an effort, at all events; and here's +my hand, in sincerity. But it won't do to shut down until I get over +this bit of a fog I'm now in." With childlike simplicity, Tom gives his +hand to the young man, who, as old Spunyarn enters the cell to, as he +says, get the latitude of his friend's nerves, departs in search of Mrs. +Swiggs. + +Mrs. Swiggs is the stately old member of a crispy old family, that, like +numerous other families in the State, seem to have outlived two +chivalrous generations, fed upon aristocracy, and are dying out +contemplating their own greatness. Indeed, the Swiggs family, while it +lived and enjoyed the glory of its name, was very like the Barnwell +family of this day, who, one by one, die off with the very pardonable +and very harmless belief that the world never can get along without the +aid of South Carolina, it being the parthenon from which the outside +world gets all its greatness. Her leading and very warlike newspapers, +(the people of these United States ought to know, if they do not +already,) it was true, were editorialized, as it was politely called in +the little State-militant, by a species of unreputationized Jew and +Yankee; but this you should know--if you do not already, gentle +reader--that it is only because such employments are regarded by the +lofty-minded chivalry as of too vulgar a nature to claim a place in +their attention. + +The clock of old Saint Michaels, a clock so tenacious of its dignity as +to go only when it pleases, and so aristocratic in its habits as not to +go at all in rainy weather;--a clock held in great esteem by the "very +first families," has just struck eleven. The young, pale-faced +missionary inquiringly hesitates before a small, two-story building of +wood, located on the upper side of Church street, and so crabbed in +appearance that you might, without endangering your reputation, have +sworn it had incorporated in its framework a portion of that chronic +disease for which the State has gained for itself an unenviable +reputation. Jutting out of the black, moss-vegetating roof, is an +old-maidish looking window, with a dowdy white curtain spitefully tucked +up at the side. The mischievous young negroes have pecked half the +bricks out of the foundation, and with them made curious grottoes on the +pavement. Disordered and unpainted clapboards spread over the dingy +front, which is set off with two upper and two lower windows, all +blockaded with infirm, green shutters. Then there is a snuffy door, +high and narrow (like the State's notions), and reached by six venerable +steps and a stoop, carefully guarded with a pine hand-rail, fashionably +painted in blue, and looking as dainty as the State's white glove. This, +reader, is the abode of the testy but extremely dignified Mrs. Swiggs. +If you would know how much dignity can be crowded into the smallest +space, you have only to look in here and be told (she closely patterns +after the State in all things!) that fifty-five summers of her crispy +life have been spent here, reading Milton's Paradise Lost and +contemplating the greatness of her departed family. + +The old steps creak and complain as the young man ascends them, holding +nervously on at the blue hand-rail, and reaching in due time the stoop, +the strength of which he successively tests with his right foot, and +stands contemplating the snuffy door. A knocker painted in villanous +green--a lion-headed knocker, of grave deportment, looking as savage as +lion can well do in this chivalrous atmosphere, looks admonitiously at +him. "Well!" he sighs as he raises it, "there's no knowing what sort of +a reception I may get." He has raised the monster's head and given three +gentle taps. Suddenly a frisking and whispering, shutting of doors and +tripping of feet, is heard within; and after a lapse of several minutes +the door swings carefully open, and the dilapidated figure of an old +negro woman, lean, shrunken, and black as Egyptian darkness--with +serious face and hanging lip, the picture of piety and starvation, +gruffly asks who he is and what he wants? + +Having requested an interview with her mistress, this decrepit specimen +of human infirmity half closes the door against him and doddles back. A +slight whispering, and Mrs. Swiggs is heard to say--"show him into the +best parlor." And into the best parlor, and into the august presence of +Mrs. Swiggs is he ushered. The best parlor is a little, dingy room, low +of ceiling, and skirted with a sombre-colored surbase, above which is +papering, the original color of which it would be difficult to discover. +A listen carpet, much faded and patched, spreads over the floor, the +walls are hung with several small engravings, much valued for their age +and associations, but so crooked as to give one the idea of the house +having withstood a storm at sea; and the furniture is made up of a few +venerable mahogany chairs, a small side-table, on which stands, much +disordered, several well-worn books and papers, two patch-covered +foot-stools, a straight-backed rocking-chair, in which the august woman +rocks her straighter self, and a great tin cage, from between the bars +of which an intelligent parrot chatters--"my lady, my lady, my lady!" +There is a cavernous air about the place, which gives out a sickly odor, +exciting the suggestion that it might at some time have served as a +receptacle for those second-hand coffins the State buries its poor in. + +"Well! who are you? And what do you want? You have brought letters, I +s'pose?" a sharp, squeaking voice, speaks rapidly. + +The young man, without waiting for an invitation to sit down, takes +nervously a seat at the side-table, saying he has come on a mission of +love. + +"Love! love! eh? Young man--know that you have got into the wrong +house!" Mrs. Swiggs shakes her head, squeaking out with great animation. + +There she sits, Milton's "Paradise Lost" in her witch-like fingers, +herself lean enough for the leanest of witches, and seeming to have +either shrunk away from the faded black silk dress in which she is clad, +or passed through half a century of starvation merely to bolster up her +dignity. A sharp, hatchet-face, sallow and corrugated; two wicked gray +eyes, set deep in bony sockets; a long, irregular nose, midway of which +is adjusted a pair of broad, brass-framed spectacles; a sunken, +purse-drawn mouth, with two discolored teeth protruding from her upper +lip; a high, narrow forehead, resembling somewhat crumpled parchment; a +dash of dry, brown hair relieving the ponderous border of her +steeple-crowned cap, which she seems to have thrown on her head in a +hurry; a moth-eaten, red shawl thrown spitefully over her shoulders, +disclosing a sinewy and sassafras-colored neck above, and the small end +of a gold chain in front, and, reader, you have the august Mrs. Swiggs, +looking as if she diets on chivalry and sour krout. She is indeed a nice +embodiment of several of those qualities which the State clings +tenaciously to, and calls its own, for she lives on the labor of eleven +aged negroes, five of whom are cripples. + +The young man smiles, as Mrs. Swiggs increases the velocity of her +rocking, lays her right hand on the table, rests her left on her Milton, +and continues to reiterate that he has got into the wrong house. + +"I have no letter, Madam--" + +"I never receive people without letters--never!" again she interrupts, +testily. + +"But you see, Madam--" + +"No I don't. I don't see anything about it!" again she interposes, +adjusting her spectacles, and scanning him anxiously from head to foot. +"Ah, yes (she twitches her head), I see what you are--" + +"I was going to say, if you please, Madam, that my mission may serve as +a passport--" + +"I'm of a good family, you must know, young man. You could have learned +that of anybody before seeking this sort of an introduction. Any of our +first families could have told you about me. You must go your way, young +man!" And she twitches her head, and pulls closer about her lean +shoulders the old red shawl. + +"I (if you will permit me, Madam) am not ignorant of the very high +standing of your famous family--" Madam interposes by saying, every +muscle of her frigid face unmoved the while, she is glad he knows +something, "having read of them in a celebrated work by one of our more +celebrated genealogists--" + +"But you should have brought a letter from the Bishop! and upon that +based your claims to a favorable reception. Then you have read of Sir +Sunderland Swiggs, my ancestor? Ah! he was such a Baron, and owned such +estates in the days of Elizabeth. But you should have brought a letter, +young man." Mrs. Swiggs replies rapidly, alternately raising and +lowering her squeaking voice, twitching her head, and grasping tighter +her Milton. + +"Those are his arms and crest." She points with her Milton to a singular +hieroglyphic, in a wiry black frame, resting on the marble-painted +mantelpiece. "He was very distinguished in his time; and such an +excellent Christian." She shakes her head and wipes the tears from her +spectacles, as her face, which had before seemed carved in wormwood, +slightly relaxes the hardness of its muscles. + +"I remember having seen favorable mention of Sir Sunderland's name in +the book I refer to--" + +She again interposes. The young man watches her emotions with a +penetrating eye, conscious that he has touched a chord in which all the +milk of kindness is not dried up. + +"It's a true copy of the family arms. Everybody has got to having arms +now-a-days. (She points to the indescribable scrawl over the +mantelpiece.) It was got through Herald King, of London, who they say +keeps her Majesty's slippers and the great seal of State. We were very +exact, you see. Yes, sir--we were very exact. Our vulgar people, you +see--I mean such as have got up by trade, and that sort of thing--went +to a vast expense in sending to England a man of great learning and much +aforethought, to ransack heraldry court and trace out their families. +Well, he went, lived very expensively, spent several years abroad, and +being very clever in his way, returned, bringing them all pedigrees of +the very best kind. With only two exceptions, he traced them all down +into noble blood. These two, the cunning fellow had it, came of martyrs. +And to have come of the blood of martyrs, when all the others, as was +shown, came of noble blood, so displeased--the most ingenious (the old +lady shakes her head regrettingly) can't please everybody--the living +members of these families, that they refused to pay the poor man for his +researches, so he was forced to resort to a suit at law. And to this day +(I don't say it disparagingly of them!) both families stubbornly refuse +to accept the pedigree. They are both rich grocers, you see! and on this +account we were very particular about ours." + +The young man thought it well not to interrupt the old woman's display +of weakness, inasmuch as it might produce a favorable change in her +feelings. + +"And now, young man, what mission have you besides love?" she inquires, +adding an encouraging look through her spectacles. + +"I am come to intercede--" + +"You needn't talk of interceding with me; no you needn't! I've nothing +to intercede about"--she twitches her head spitefully. + +"In behalf of your son." + +"There--there! I knew there was some mischief. You're a Catholic! I knew +it. Never saw one of your black-coated flock about that there wasn't +mischief brewing--never! I can't read my Milton in peace for you--" + +"But your son is in prison, Madam, among criminals, and subject to the +influence of their habits--" + +"Precisely where I put him--where he won't disgrace the family; yes, +where he ought to be, and where he shall rot, for all me. Now, go your +way, young man; and read your Bible at home, and keep out of prisons; +and don't be trying to make Jesuits of hardened scamps like that Tom of +mine." + +"I am a Christian: I would like to extend a Christian's hand to your +son. I may replace him on the holy pedestal he has fallen from--" + +"You are very aggravating, young man. Do you live in South Carolina?" + +The young man says he does. He is proud of the State that can boast so +many excellent families. + +"I am glad of that," she says, looking querulously over her spectacles, +as she twitches her chin, and increases the velocity of her rocking. "I +wonder how folks can live out of it." + +"As to that, Madam, permit me to say, I am happy to see and appreciate +your patriotism; but if you will grant me an order of release--" + +"I won't hear a word now! You're very aggravating, young man--very! He +has disgraced the family; I have put him where he is seven times; he +shall rot were he is! He never shall disgrace the family again. Think of +Sir Sunderland Swiggs, and then think of him, and see what a pretty +level the family has come to! That's the place for him, I have told him +a dozen times how I wished him gone. The quicker he is out of the way, +the better for the name of the family." + +The young man waits the end of this colloquy with a smile on his +countenance. "I have no doubt I can work your son's reform--perhaps make +him an honor to the family--" + +"He honor the family!" she interrupts, twitches the shawl about her +shoulders, and permits herself to get into a state of general +excitement. "I should like to see one who has disgraced the family as +much as he has think of honoring it--" + +"Through kindness and forbearance, Madam, a great deal may be done," the +young man replies. + +"Now, you are very provoking, young man--very. Let other people alone; +go your way home, and study your Bible." And with this the old lady +calls Rebecca, the decrepit slave who opened the door, and directs her +to show the young man out. "There now!" she says testily, turning to the +marked page of her Milton. + +The young man contemplates her for a few moments, but, having no +alternative, leaves reluctantly. + +On reaching the stoop he encounters the tall, handsome figure of a man, +whose face is radiant with smiles, and his features ornamented with +neatly-combed Saxon hair and beard, and who taps the old negress under +the chin playfully, as she says, "Missus will be right glad to see you, +Mr. Snivel--that she will." And he bustles his way laughing into the +presence of the old lady, as if he had news of great importance for +her. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +A FEW REFLECTIONS ON THE CURE OF VICE. + + +Disappointed, and not a little chagrined, at the failure of his mission, +the young man muses over the next best course to pursue. He has the +inebriate's welfare at heart; he knows there is no state of degradation +so low that the victim cannot, under proper care, be reclaimed from it; +and he feels duty calling loudly to him not to stand trembling on the +brink, but to enter the abode of the victim, and struggle to make clean +the polluted. Vice, he says to himself, is not entailed in the heart; +and if you would modify and correct the feelings inclined to evil, you +must first feed the body, then stimulate the ambition; and when you have +got the ambition right, seek a knowledge of the heart, and apply to it +those mild and judicious remedies which soften its action, and give life +to new thoughts and a higher state of existence. Once create the vine of +moral rectitude, and its branches will soon get where they can take care +of themselves. But to give the vine creation in poor soil, your watching +must exhibit forbearance, and your care a delicate hand. The +stubbornly-inclined nature, when coupled with ignorance, is that in +which vice takes deepest root, as it is, when educated, that against +which vice is least effectual. To think of changing the natural +inclination of such natures with punishment, or harsh correctives, is as +useless as would be an attempt to stop the ebbing and flowing of the +tide. You must nurture the feelings, he thought, create a +susceptibility, get the heart right, by holding out the value of a +better state of things, and make the head to feel that you are sincere +in your work of love; and, above all, you must not forget the stomach, +for if that go empty crime will surely creep into the head. You cannot +correct moral infirmity by confining the victim of it among criminals, +for no greater punishment can be inflicted on the feelings of man; and +punishment destroys rather than encourages the latent susceptibility of +our better nature. In nine cases out of ten, improper punishment makes +the hardened criminals with which your prisons are filled, destroying +forever that spark of ambition which might have been fostered into a +means to higher ends. + +And as the young man thus muses, there recurs to his mind the picture of +old Absalom McArthur, a curious old man, but excessively kind, and +always ready to do "a bit of a good turn for one in need," as he would +say when a needy friend sought his assistance. McArthur is a dealer in +curiosities, is a venerable curiosity himself, and has always something +on hand to meet the wants of a community much given to antiquity and +broken reputations. + +The young theologian will seek this good old man. He feels that time +will work a favorable revolution in the feelings of Tom's mother; and to +be prepared for that happy event he will plead a shelter for him under +McArthur's roof. + +And now, generous reader, we will, with your permission, permit him to +go on his errand of mercy, while we go back and see how Tom prospers at +the old prison. You, we well know, have not much love of prisons. But +unless we do now and then enter them, our conceptions of how much misery +man can inflict upon man will be small indeed. + +The man of sailor-like deportment, and whom the prisoners salute with +the sobriquet of "Old Spunyarn," entered, you will please remember, the +cell, as the young theologian left in search of Mrs. Swiggs, "I thought +I'd just haul my tacks aboard, run up a bit, and see what sort of +weather you were making, Tom," says he, touching clumsily his +small-brimmed, plait hat, as he recognizes the young man, whom he +salutes in that style so frank and characteristic of the craft. "He's a +bit better, sir--isn't he?" inquires Spunyarn, his broad, honest face, +well browned and whiskered, warming with a glow of satisfaction. + +Receiving an answer in the affirmative, he replies he is right glad of +it, not liking to see a shipmate in a drift. And he gives his quid a +lurch aside, throws his hat carelessly upon the floor, shrugs his +shoulders, and as he styles it, nimbly brings himself to a mooring, at +Tom's side. "It's a hard comforter, this state. I don't begrudge your +mother the satisfaction she gets of sending you here. In her eyes, ye +see, yeer fit only to make fees out on, for them ar lawyer chaps. They'd +keep puttin' a body in an' out here during his natural life, just for +the sake of gettin', the fees. They don't care for such things as you +and I. We hain't no rights; and if we had, why we hain't no power. This +carry in' too much head sail, Tom, won't do--'twon't!" Spunyarn shakes +his head reprovingly, fusses over Tom, turns him over on his wales, as +he has it, and finally gets him on his beam's ends, a besotted wreck +unable to carry his canvas. "Lost yeer reckoning eh, Tom?" he continues +as that bewildered individual stares vacantly at him. The inebriate +contorts painfully his face, presses and presses his hands to his +burning forehead, and says they are firing a salute in his head, using +his brains for ammunition. + +"Well, now Tom, seein' as how I'm a friend of yourn--" + +"Friend of mine?" interrupts Tom, shaking his head, and peering through +his fingers mistrustfully. + +"And this is a hard lee shore you've beached upon; I'll lend ye a hand +to get in the head sail, and get the craft trimmed up a little. A dash +of the same brine will help keep the ballast right, then a skysail-yard +breakfast must be carefully stowed away, in order to give a firmness to +the timbers, and on the strength of these two blocks for shoring up the +hull, you must begin little by little, and keep on brightening up until +you have got the craft all right again. And when you have got her right +you must keep her right. I say, Tom!--it won't do. You must reef down, +or the devil'll seize the helm in one of these blows, and run you into a +port too warm for pea-jackets." For a moment, Spunyarn seems half +inclined to grasp Tom by his collarless coat and shake the hydrophobia, +as he calls it, out of him; then, as if incited by a second thought, he +draws from his shirt-bosom a large, wooden comb, and humming a tune +commences combing and fussing over Tom's hair, which stands erect over +his head like marlinspikes. At length he gets a craft-like set upon his +foretop, and turning his head first to the right, then to the left, as a +child does a doll, he views him with an air of exultation. "I tell you +what it is, Tom," he continues, relieving him of the old coat, "the +bright begins to come! There's three points of weather made already." + +"God bless you, Spunyarn," replies Tom, evidently touched by the +frankness and generosity of the old sailor. Indeed there was something +so whole-hearted about old Spunyarn, that he was held in universal +esteem by every one in jail, with the single exception of Milman Mingle, +the vote-cribber. + +"Just think of yourself, Tom--don't mind me," pursues the sailor as Tom +squeezes firmly his hand. "You've had a hard enough time of it--" Tom +interrupts by saying, as he lays his hands upon his sides, he is sore +from head to foot. + +"Don't wonder," returns the sailor. "It's a great State, this South +Carolina. It seems swarming with poor and powerless folks. Everybody has +power to put everybody in jail, where the State gives a body two +dog's-hair and rope-yarn blankets to lay upon, and grants the sheriff, +Mr. Hardscrable, full license to starve us, and put the thirty cents a +day it provides for our living into his breeches pockets. Say what you +will about it, old fellow, it's a brief way of doing a little profit in +the business of starvation. I don't say this with any ill-will to the +State that regards its powerless and destitute with such criminal +contempt--I don't." And he brings water, gets Tom upon his feet, forces +him into a clean shirt, and regards him in the light of a child whose +reformation he is determined on perfecting. He sees that in the fallen +man which implies a hope of ultimate usefulness, notwithstanding the +sullen silence, the gloomy frown on his knitted brow, and the general +air of despair that pervades the external man. + +"There!" he exclaims, having improved the personal of the inebriate, and +folding his arms as he steps back apace to have a better view of his +pupil--"now, don't think of being triced up in this dreary vault. Be +cheerful, brace up your resolution--never let the devil think you know +he is trying to put the last seal on your fate--never!" Having slipped +the black kerchief from his own neck, he secures it about Tom's, adjusts +the shark's bone at the throat, and mounts the braid hat upon his head +with a hearty blow on the crown. "Look at yourself! They'd mistake you +for a captain of the foretop," he pursues, and good-naturedly he lays +his broad, browned hands upon Tom's shoulders, and forces him up to a +triangular bit of glass secured with three tacks to the wall. + +Tom's hands wander down his sides as he contemplates himself in the +glass, saying: "I look a shade up, I reckon! And I feel--I have to thank +you for it, Spunyarn--something different all over me. God bless you! I +won't forget you. But I'm hungry; that's all that ails me now. + +"I may thank my mother--" + +"Thank yourself, Tom," interposes the sailor. + +"For all this. She has driven me to this; yes, she has made my soul dead +with despair!" And he bursts into a wild, fierce laugh. A moment's +pause, and he says, in a subdued voice, "I'm a slave, a fool, a wanderer +in search of his own distress." + +The kind-hearted sailor seats his pupil upon a board bench, and proceeds +down stairs, where, with the bribe of a glass of whiskey, he induces the +negro cook to prepare for Tom a bowl of coffee and a biscuit. In truth, +we must confess, that Spunyarn was so exceedingly liberal of his +friendship that he would at times appropriate to himself the personal +effects of his neighbors. But we must do him justice by saying that this +was only when a friend in need claimed his attention. And this generous +propensity he the more frequently exercised upon the effects--whiskey, +cold ham, crackers and cheese--of the vote-cribber, whom he regards as a +sort of cold-hearted land-lubber, whose political friends outside were +not what they should be. If the vote-cribber's aristocratic friends (and +South Carolina politicians were much given to dignity and bad whiskey) +sent him luxuries that tantalized the appetites of poverty-oppressed +debtors, and poor prisoners starving on a pound of bread a-day, Spunyarn +held this a legitimate plea for holding in utter contempt the right to +such gifts. And what was more singular of this man was, that he always +knew the latitude and longitude of the vote-cribber's bottle, and what +amount of water was necessary to keep up the gauge he had reduced in +supplying his flask. + +And now that Tom's almost hopeless condition presents a warrantable +excuse, (the vote-cribber has this moment passed into the cell to take a +cursory glance at Tom,) Spunyarn slips nimbly into the vote-cribber's +cell, withdraws a brick from the old chimney, and seizing the black neck +of a blacker bottle, drags it forth, holds it in the shadow of the +doorway, squints exultingly at the contents, shrugs his stalwart +shoulders, and empties a third of the liquid, which he replaces with +water from a bucket near by, into his tin-topped flask. This done, he +ingeniously replaces the bottle, slides the flask suspiciously into his +bosom, saying, "It'll taste just as strong to a vote-cribber," and seeks +that greasy potentate, the prison cook. This dignitary has always laid +something aside for Spunyarn; he knows Spunyarn has something laid aside +for him, which makes the condition mutual. + +"A new loafer let loose on the world!" says the vote-cribber, entering +the domain of the inebriate with a look of fierce scorn. "The State is +pestered to death with such things as you. What do they send you here +for?--disturbing the quiet and respectability of the prison! You're only +fit to enrich the bone-yard--hardly that; perhaps only for lawyers to +get fees of. The State'll starve you, old Hardscrabble'll make a few +dollars out of your feed--but what of that? We don't want you here." +There was something so sullen and mysterious in the coarse features of +this stalwart man--something so revolting in his profession, though it +was esteemed necessary to the elevation of men seeking political +popularity--something so at variance with common sense in the punishment +meted out to him who followed it, as to create a deep interest in his +history, notwithstanding his coldness towards the inebriate. And yet you +sought in vain for one congenial or redeeming trait in the character of +this man. + +"I always find you here; you're a fixture, I take it--" + +The vote-cribber interrupts the inebriate--"Better have said a patriot!" + +"Well," returns the inebriate, "a patriot then; have it as you like it. +I'm not over-sensitive of the distinction." The fallen man drops his +head into his hands, stabbed with remorse, while the vote-cribber folds +his brawny arms leisurely, paces to and fro before him, and scans him +with his keen, gray eyes, after the manner of one mutely contemplating +an imprisoned animal. + +"You need not give yourself so much concern about me--" + +"I was only thinking over in my head what a good subject to crib, a week +or two before fall election, you'd be. You've a vote?" + +Tom good-naturedly says he has. He always throws it for the "old +Charleston" party, being sure of a release, as are some dozen caged +birds, just before election. + +"I have declared eternal hatred against that party; never pays its +cribbers!" Mingle scornfully retorts; and having lighted his pipe, +continues his pacing. "As for this jail," he mutters to himself, "I've +no great respect for it; but there is a wide difference between a man +who they put in here for sinning against himself, and one who only +violates a law of the State, passed in opposition to popular opinion. +However, you seem brightened up a few pegs, and, only let whiskey alone, +you may be something yet. Keep up an acquaintance with the pump, and be +civil to respectable prisoners, that's all." + +This admonition of the vote-cribber had a deeper effect on the feelings +of the inebriate than was indicated by his outward manner. He had +committed no crime, and yet he found himself among criminals of every +kind; and what was worse, they affected to look down upon him. Had he +reached a state of degradation so low that even the felon loathed his +presence? Was he an outcast, stripped of every means of reform--of +making himself a man? Oh no! The knife of the destroyer had plunged +deep--disappointment had tortured his brain--he was drawn deeper into +the pool of misery by the fatal fascinations of the house of Madame +Flamingo, where, shunned by society, he had sought relief--but there was +yet one spark of pride lingering in his heart. That spark the +vote-cribber had touched; and with that spark Tom resolved to kindle for +himself a new existence. He had pledged his honor to the young +theologian; he would not violate it. + +The old sailor, with elated feelings, and bearing in his hands a bowl of +coffee and two slices of toasted bread, is accosted by several +suspicious-looking prisoners, who have assembled in the corridor for the +purpose of scenting fresh air, with sundry questions concerning the +state of his pupil's health. + +"He has had a rough night," the sailor answers, "but is now a bit calm. +In truth, he only wants a bit of good steering to get him into smooth +weather again." Thus satisfying the inquirers, he hurries up stairs as +the vote-cribber hurries down, and setting his offering on the +window-sill, draws from his bosom the concealed flask. "There, Tom!" he +says, with childlike satisfaction, holding the flask before him--"only +two pulls. To-morrow reef down to one; and the day after swear a +dissolution of copartnership, for this chap (he points to the whiskey) +is too mighty for you." + +Tom hesitates, as if questioning the quality of the drug he is about to +administer. + +"Only two!" interrupts the sailor. "It will reduce the ground-swell a +bit." The outcast places the flask to his lips, and having drank with +contorted face passes it back with a sigh, and extends his right hand. +"My honor is nothing to the world, Spunyarn, but it is yet something to +me; and by it I swear (here he grasps tighter the hand of the old +sailor, as a tear moistens his suffused cheeks) never to touch the +poison again. It has grappled me like a fierce animal I could not shake +off; it has made me the scoffed of felons--I will cease to be its +victim; and having gained the victory, be hereafter a friend to myself." + +"God bless you--may you never want a friend, Tom--and may He give you +strength to keep the resolution. That's my wish." And the old sailor +shook Tom's hand fervently, in pledge of his sincerity. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +IN WHICH MR. SNIVEL, COMMONLY CALLED THE ACCOMMODATION MAN, IS +INTRODUCED, AND WHAT TAKES PLACE BETWEEN HIM AND MRS. SWIGGS. + + +Reader! have you ever witnessed how cleverly one of our mob-politicians +can, through the all-soothing medium of a mint-julep, transpose himself +from a mass of passion and bad English into a child of perfect +equanimity? If not, perhaps you have witnessed in our halls of Congress +the sudden transition through which some of our Carolina members pass +from a state of stupidity to a state of pugnacity? (We refer only to +those members who do their own "stumping," and as a natural consequence, +get into Congress through abuse of the North, bad whiskey, and a +profusion of promises to dissolve the Union.) And if you have, you may +form some idea of the suddenness with which Lady Swiggs, as she delights +in having her friends call her, transposes herself from the incarnation +of a viper into a creature of gentleness, on hearing announced the name +of Mr. Soloman Snivel. + +"What!--my old friend! I wish I had words to say how glad I am to see +you, Lady Swiggs!" exclaims a tall, well-proportioned and +handsome-limbed man, to whose figure a fashionable claret-colored frock +coat, white vest, neatly-fitting dark-brown trowsers, highly-polished +boots, a cluster of diamonds set in an avalanche of corded shirt-bosom, +and carelessly-tied green cravat, lend a respectability better imagined +than described. A certain reckless dash about him, not common to a +refined gentleman, forces us to set him down as one of those individuals +who hold an uncertain position in society; and though they may now and +then mingle with men of refinement, have their more legitimate sphere in +a fashionable world of doubtful character. + +"Why!--Mr. Snivel. Is it you?" responds the old woman, reciprocating his +warm shake of the hand, and getting her hard face into a smile. + +"I am so glad--But (Mr. Snivel interrupts himself) never mind that!" + +"You have some important news?" hastily inquires Mrs. Swiggs, laying a +bit of muslin carefully between the pages of her Milton, and returning +it to the table, saying she has just been grievously provoked by one of +that black-coated flock who go about the city in search of lambs. They +always remind her of light-houses pointing the road to the dominions of +the gentleman in black. + +"Something very important!" parenthesises Soloman--"very." And he shakes +his head, touches her significantly on the arm with his orange-colored +glove,--he smiles insidiously. + +"Pray be seated, Mr. Snivel. Rebecca!--bring Mr. Snivel the +rocking-chair." + +"You see, my good Madam, there's such a rumor about town this morning! +(Soloman again taps her on the arm with his glove.) The cat has got out +of the bag--it's all up with the St. Cecilia!--" + +"Do, Rebecca, make haste with the rocking-chair!" eagerly interrupts +the old woman, addressing herself to the negress, who fusses her way +into the room with a great old-fashioned rocking-chair. "I am so +sensitive of the character of that society," she continues with a sigh, +and wipes and rubs her spectacles, gets up and views herself in the +glass, frills over her cap border, and becomes very generally anxious. +Mrs. Swiggs is herself again. She nervously adjusts the venerable red +shawl about her shoulders, draws the newly-introduced arm-chair near her +own, ("I'm not so old, but am getting a little deaf," she says), and +begs her visitor will be seated. + +Mr. Soloman, having paced twice or thrice up and down the little room, +contemplating himself in the glass at each turn, now touching his +neatly-trimmed Saxon mustache and whiskers, then frisking his fingers +through his candy-colored hair, brings his dignity into the chair. + +"I said it was all up with the St. Cecilia--" + +"Yes!" interrupts Mrs. Swiggs, her eyes glistening like balls of fire, +her lower jaw falling with the weight of anxiety, and fretting rapidly +her bony hands. + +Soloman suddenly pauses, says that was a glorious bottle of old Madeira +with which he enjoyed her hospitality on his last visit. The flavor of +it is yet fresh in his mouth. + +"Thank you--thank you! Mr. Soloman. I've a few more left. But pray lose +no time in disclosing to me what hath befallen the St. Cecilia." + +"Well then--but what I say must be in confidence. (The old woman says it +never shall get beyond her lips--never!) An Englishman of goodly looks, +fashion, and money--and, what is more in favor with our first families, +a Sir attached to his name, being of handsome person and accomplished +manners, and travelling and living after the manner of a nobleman, (some +of our first families are simple enough to identify a Baronet with +nobility!) was foully set upon by the fairest and most marriageable +belles of the St. Cecilia. If he had possessed a dozen hearts, he could +have had good markets for them all. There was such a getting up of +attentions! Our fashionable mothers did their very best in arraying the +many accomplishments of their consignable daughters, setting forth in +the most foreign but not over-refined phraseology, their extensive +travels abroad--" + +"Yes!" interrupts Mrs. Swiggs, nervously--"I know how they do it. It's a +pardonable weakness." And she reaches out her hand and takes to her lap +her inseparable Milton. + +"And the many marked attentions--offers, in fact--they have received at +the hands of Counts and Earls, with names so unpronounceable that they +have outlived memory--" + +"Perhaps I have them in my book of autographs!" interrupts the credulous +old woman, making an effort to rise and proceed to an antique side-board +covered with grotesque-looking papers. + +Mr. Soloman urbanely touches her on the arm--begs she will keep her +seat. The names only apply to things of the past. He proceeds, +"Well--being a dashing fellow, as I have said--he played his game +charmingly. Now he flirted with this one, and then with that one, and +finally with the whole society, not excepting the very flirtable married +ladies;--that is, I mean those whose husbands were simple enough to let +him. Mothers were in a great flutter generally, and not a day passed but +there was a dispute as to which of their daughters he would link his +fortunes with and raise to that state so desirable in the eyes of our +very republican first families--the State-Militant of nobility--" + +"I think none the worse of 'em for that," says the old woman, twitching +her wizard-like head in confirmation of her assertion. "My word for it, +Mr. Soloman, to get up in the world, and to be above the common herd, is +the grand ambition of our people; and our State has got the grand +position it now holds before the world through the influence of this +ambition." + +"True!--you are right there, my dear friend. You may remember, I have +always said you had the penetration of a statesman, (Mrs. Swiggs makes a +curt bow, as a great gray cat springs into her lap and curls himself +down on her Milton;) and, as I was going on to say of this dashing +Baronet, he played our damsels about in agony, as an old sportsman does +a covey of ducks, wounding more in the head than in the heart, and +finally creating no end of a demand for matrimony. To-day, all the town +was positive, he would marry the beautiful Miss Boggs; to-morrow it was +not so certain that he would not marry the brilliant and +all-accomplished Miss Noggs; and the next day he was certain of marrying +the talented and very wealthy heiress, Miss Robbs. Mrs. Stepfast, highly +esteemed in fashionable society, and the very best gossip-monger in the +city, had confidentially spread it all over the neighborhood that Mr. +Stepfast told her the young Baronet told him (and he verily believed he +was head and ears in love with her!) Miss Robbs was the most lovely +creature he had seen since he left Belgravia. And then he went into a +perfect rhapsody of excitement while praising the poetry of her motion, +the grace with which she performed the smallest offices of the +drawing-room, her queenly figure, her round, alabaster arms, her smooth, +tapering hands, (so chastely set off with two small diamonds, and so +unlike the butchers' wives of this day, who bedazzle themselves all the +day long with cheap jewelry,)--the beautiful swell of her marble bust, +the sweet smile ever playing over her thoughtful face, the regularity of +her Grecian features, and those great, languishing eyes, constantly +flashing with the light of irresistible love. Quoth ye! according to +what Mr. Stepfast told Mrs. Stepfast, the young Baronet would, with the +ideal of a real poet, as was he, have gone on recounting her charms +until sundown, had not Mr. Stepfast invited him to a quiet family +dinner. And to confirm what Mr. Stepfast said, Miss Robbs had been seen +by Mrs. Windspin looking in at Mrs. Stebbins', the fashionable +dress-maker, while the young Baronet had twice been at Spears', in King +Street, to select a diamond necklace of great value, which he left +subject to the taste of Miss Robbs. And putting them two and them two +together there was something in it!" + +"I am truly glad it's nothing worse. There has been so much scandal got +up by vulgar people against our St. Cecilia." + +"Worse, Madam?" interpolates our hero, ere she has time to conclude her +sentence, "the worst is to come yet." + +"And I'm a member of the society!" Mrs. Swiggs replies with a +languishing sigh, mistaking the head of the cat for her Milton, and +apologizing for her error as that venerable animal, having got well +squeezed, sputters and springs from her grasp, shaking his head, +"elected solely on the respectability of my family." + +Rather a collapsed member, by the way, Mr. Soloman thinks, contemplating +her facetiously. + +"Kindly proceed--proceed," she says, twitching at her cap strings, as if +impatient to get the sequel. + +"Well, as to that, being a member of the St. Cecilia myself, you see, +and always--(I go in for a man keeping up in the world)--maintaining a +high position among its most distinguished members, who, I assure you, +respect me far above my real merits, (Mrs. Swiggs says we won't say +anything about that now!) and honor me with all its secrets, I may, even +in your presence, be permitted to say, that I never heard a member who +didn't speak in high praise of you and the family of which you are so +excellent a representative." + +"Thank you--thank you. O thank you, Mr. Soloman!" she rejoins. + +"Why, Madam, I feel all my veneration getting into my head at once when +I refer to the name of Sir Sunderland Swiggs." + +"But pray what came of the young Baronet?" + +"Oh!--as to him, why, you see, he was what we call--it isn't a polite +word, I confess--a humbug." + +"A Baronet a humbug!" she exclaims, fretting her hands and commencing to +rock herself in the chair. + +"Well, as to that, as I was going on to say, after he had beat the bush +all around among the young birds, leaving several of them wounded on the +ground--you understand this sort of thing--he took to the older ones, +and set them polishing up their feathers. And having set several very +respectable families by the ears, and created a terrible flutter among a +number of married dames--he was an adept in this sort of diplomacy, you +see--it was discovered that one very distinguished Mrs. Constance, +leader of fashion to the St. Cecilia, (and on that account on no very +good terms with the vulgar world, that was forever getting up scandal to +hurl at the society that would not permit it to soil, with its common +muslin, the fragrant atmosphere of its satin and tulle), had been +carrying on a villanous intrigue--yes, Madam! villanous intrigue! I said +discovered: the fact was, this gallant Baronet, with one servant and no +establishment, was feted and fooled for a month, until he came to the +very natural and sensible conclusion, that we were all snobbs--yes, +snobbs of the very worst kind. But there was no one who fawned over and +flattered the vanity of this vain man more than the husband of Mrs. +Constance. This poor man idolized his wife, whom he regarded as the very +diamond light of purity, nor ever mistrusted that the Baronet's +attentions were bestowed with any other than the best of motives. +Indeed, he held it extremely condescending on the part of the Baronet to +thus honor the family with his presence. + +"And the Baronet, you see, with that folly so characteristic of +Baronets, was so flushed with his success in this little intrigue with +Madame Constance--the affair was too good for him to keep!--that he went +all over town showing her letters. Such nice letters as they were--brim +full of repentance, love, and appointments. The Baronet read them to Mr. +Barrows, laughing mischievously, and saying what a fool the woman must +be. Mr. Barrows couldn't keep it from Mrs. Barrows, Mrs. Barrows let the +cat out of the bag to Mrs. Simpson, and Mrs. Simpson would let Mr. +Simpson have no peace till he got on the soft side of the Baronet, and, +what was not a difficult matter, got two of the letters for her to have +a peep into. Mrs. Simpson having feasted her eyes on the two Mr. Simpson +got of the Baronet, and being exceedingly fond of such wares as they +contained, must needs--albeit, in strict confidence--whisper it to Mrs. +Fountain, who was a very fashionable lady, but unfortunately had a head +very like a fountain, with the exception that it ejected out double the +amount it took in. Mrs. Fountain--as anybody might have known--let it +get all over town. And then the vulgar herd took it up, as if it were +assafoetida, only needing a little stirring up, and hurled it back at +the St. Cecilia, the character of which it would damage without a pang +of remorse. + +"Then the thing got to Constance's ears; and getting into a terrible +passion, poor Constance swore nothing would satisfy him but the +Baronet's life. But the Baronet--" + +"A sorry Baronet was he--not a bit like my dear ancestor, Sir +Sunderland," Mrs. Swiggs interposes. + +"Not a bit, Madam," bows our hero. "Like a sensible gentleman, as I was +about to say, finding it getting too hot for him, packed up his alls, +and in the company of his unpaid servant, left for parts westward of +this. I had a suspicion the fellow was not what he should be; and I made +it known to my select friends of the St. Cecilia, who generally +pooh-poohed me. A nobleman, they said, should receive every attention. +And to show that he wasn't what he should be, when he got to Augusta his +servant sued him for his wages; and having nothing but his chivalry, +which the servant very sensibly declined to accept for payment, he came +out like a man, and declared himself nothing but a poor player. + +"But this neither satisfied Constance nor stayed the drifting current of +slander--" + +"Oh! I am so glad it was no worse," Mrs. Swiggs interrupts again. + +"True!" Mr. Soloman responds, laughing heartily, as he taps her on the +arm. "It might have been worse, though. Well, I am, as you know, always +ready to do a bit of a good turn for a friend in need, and pitying poor +Constance as I did, I suggested a committee of four most respectable +gentlemen, and myself, to investigate the matter. The thing struck +Constance favorably, you see. So we got ourselves together, agreed to +consider ourselves a Congress, talked over the affairs of the nation, +carried a vote to dissolve the Union, drank sundry bottles of Champagne, +(I longed for a taste of your old Madeira, Mrs. Swiggs,) and brought in +a verdict that pleased Mrs. Constance wonderfully--and so it ought. We +were, after the most careful examination, satisfied that the reports +prejudicial to the character and standing of Mrs. Constance had no +foundation in truth, being the base fabrications of evil-minded persons, +who sought, while injuring an innocent lady, to damage the reputation of +the St. Cecilia Society. Mr. Constance was highly pleased with the +finding; and finally it proved the sovereign balm that healed all their +wounds. Of course, the Knight, having departed, was spared his blood." + +Here Mr. Soloman makes a pause. Mrs. Swiggs, with a sigh, says, "Is that +all?" + +"Quite enough for once, my good Madam," Mr. Soloman bows in return. + +"Oh! I am so glad the St. Cecilia is yet spared to us. You said, you +know, it was all up with it--" + +"Up? up?--so it is! That is, it won't break it up, you know. Why--oh, I +see where the mistake is--it isn't all over, you know, seeing how the +society can live through a score of nine-months scandals. But the +thing's in every vulgar fellow's lips--that is the worst of it." + +Mrs. Swiggs relishes this bit of gossip as if it were a dainty morsel; +and calling Rebecca, she commands her to forthwith proceed into the +cellar and bring a bottle of the old Madeira--she has only five +left--for Mr. Soloman. And to Mr. Soloman's great delight, the old +negress hastily obeys the summons; brings forth a mass of cobweb and +dust, from which a venerable black bottle is disinterred, uncorked, and +presented to the guest, who drinks the health of Mrs. Swiggs in sundry +well-filled glasses, which he declares choice, adding, that it always +reminds him of the age and dignity of the family. Like the State, +dignity is Mrs. Swiggs' weakness--her besetting sin. Mr. Soloman, having +found the key to this vain woman's generosity, turns it when it suits +his own convenience. + +"By-the-bye," he suddenly exclaims, "you've got Tom locked up again." + +"As safe as he ever was, I warrant ye!" Mrs. Swiggs replies, resuming +her Milton and rocking-chair. + +"Upon my faith I agree with you. Never let him get out, for he is sure +to disgrace the family when he does--" + +"I've said he shall rot there, and he shall rot! He never shall get out +to disgrace the family--no, not if I live to be as gray as Methuselah, I +warrant you!" And Mr. Soloman, having made his compliments to the sixth +glass, draws from his breast pocket a legal-looking paper, which he +passes to Mrs. Swiggs, as she ejaculates, "Oh! I am glad you thought of +that." + +Mr. Soloman, watching intently the changes of her face, says, "You will +observe, Madam, I have mentioned the cripples. There are five of them. +We are good friends, you see; and it is always better to be precise in +those things. It preserves friendship. This is merely a bit of a good +turn I do for you." Mr. Soloman bows, makes an approving motion with his +hands, and lays at her disposal on the table, a small roll of bills. +"You will find two hundred dollars there," he adds, modulating his +voice. "You will find it all right; I got it for you of Keepum. We do a +little in that way; he is very exact, you see--" + +"Honor is the best security between people of our standing," she +rejoins, taking up a pen and signing the instrument, which her guest +deposits snugly in his pocket, and takes his departure for the house of +Madame Flamingo. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +CONTAINING SUNDRY MATTERS APPERTAINING TO THIS HISTORY. + + +If, generous reader, you had lived in Charleston, we would take it for +granted that you need no further enlightening on any of our very select +societies, especially the St. Cecilia; but you may not have enjoyed a +residence so distinguished, rendering unnecessary a few explanatory +remarks. You must know that we not only esteem ourselves the +quintessence of refinement, as we have an undisputed right to do, but +regard the world outside as exceedingly stupid in not knowing as much of +us as we profess to know of ourselves. Abroad, we wonder we are not at +once recognized as Carolinians; at home, we let the vulgar world know +who we are. Indeed, we regard the outside world--of these States we +mean--very much in that light which the Greeks of old were wont to view +the Romans in. Did we but stop here, the weakness might be pardonable. +But we lay claim to Grecian refinement of manners, while pluming all our +mob-politicians Roman orators. There is a profanity about this we +confess not to like; not that danger can befall it, but because it hath +about it that which reminds us of the oyster found in the shell of gold. +Condescending, then, to believe there exists outside of our State a few +persons silly enough to read books, we will take it for granted, reader, +that you are one of them, straightway proceeding with you to the St. +Cecilia. + +You have been a fashionable traveller in Europe? You say--yes! rummaged +all the feudal castles of England, sought out the resting places of her +kings, heard some one say "that is poet's corner," as we passed into +Westminster Abbey, thought they couldn't be much to have such a +corner,--"went to look" where Byron was buried, moistened the marble +with a tear ere we were conscious of it, and saw open to us the gulf of +death as we contemplated how greedy graveyard worms were banqueting on +his greatness. A world of strange fancies came over us as we mused on +England's poets. And we dined with several Dukes and a great many more +Earls, declining no end of invitations of commoners. Very well! we +reply, adding a sigh. And on your return to your home, that you may not +be behind the fashion, you compare disparagingly everything that meets +your eye. Nothing comes up to what you saw in Europe. A servant doesn't +know how to be a servant here; and were we to see the opera at Covent +Garden, we would be sure to stare our eyes out. It is become habitual to +introduce your conversation with, "when I was in Europe." And you know +you never write a letter that you don't in some way bring in the +distinguished persons you met abroad. There is something (no matter what +it is) that forcibly reminds you of what occurred at the table of my +Lady Clarendon, with whom you twice had the pleasure and rare honor of +dining. And by implication, you always give us a sort of lavender-water +description of the very excellent persons you met there, and what they +were kind enough to say of America, and how they complimented you, and +made you the centre and all-absorbing object of attraction--in a word, a +truly wonderful person. And you will not fail, now that it is become +fashionable, to extol with fulsome breath the greatness of every +European despot it hath been your good fortune to get a bow from. And +you are just vain enough to forever keep this before your up-country +cousins. You say, too, that you have looked in at Almacks. Almacks! +alas! departed greatness. With the rise of the Casino hath it lain its +aristocratic head in the dust. + +Well!--the St. Cecilia you must know (its counterparts are to be found +in all our great cities) is a miniature Almacks--a sort of leach-cloth, +through which certain very respectable individuals must pass ere they +can become the elite of our fashionable world. To become a member of the +St. Cecilia--to enjoy its recherche assemblies--to luxuriate in the +delicate perfumes of its votaries, is the besetting sin of a great many +otherwise very sensible people. And to avenge their disappointment at +not being admitted to its precious precincts, they are sure to be found +in the front rank of scandal-mongers when anything in their line is up +with a member. And it is seldom something is not up, for the society +would seem to live and get lusty in an atmosphere of perpetual scandal. +Any amount of duels have come of it; it hath made rich no end of +milliners; it hath made bankrupt husbands by the dozen; it hath been the +theatre of several distinguished romances; it hath witnessed the first +throbbings of sundry hearts, since made happy in wedlock; it hath been +the _shibolath_ of sins that shall be nameless here. The reigning belles +are all members (provided they belong to our first families) of the St. +Cecilia, as is also the prettiest and most popular unmarried parson. And +the parson being excellent material for scandal, Mother Rumor is sure to +have a dash at him. Nor does this very busy old lady seem over-delicate +about which of the belles she associates with the parson, so long as the +scandal be fashionable enough to afford her a good traffic. + +There is continually coming along some unknown but very distinguished +foreigner, whom the society adopts as its own, flutters over, and +smothers with attentions, and drops only when it is discovered he is an +escaped convict. This, in deference to the reputation of the St. +Cecilia, we acknowledge has only happened twice. It has been said with +much truth that the St. Cecilia's worst sin, like the sins of its sister +societies of New York, is a passion for smothering with the satin and +Honiton of its assemblies a certain supercilious species of snobby +Englishmen, who come over here, as they have it (gun and fishing-rod in +hand), merely to get right into the woods where they can have plenty of +bear-hunting, confidently believing New York a forest inhabited by such +animals. As for our squaws, as Mr. Tom Toddleworth would say, (we shall +speak more at length of Tom!) why! they have no very bad opinion of +them, seeing that they belong to a race of semi-barbarians, whose +sayings they delight to note down. Having no society at home, this +species of gentry the more readily find themselves in high favor with +ours. They are always Oxonians, as the sons of green grocers and +fishmongers are sure to be when they come over here (so Mr. Toddleworth +has it, and he is good authority), and we being an exceedingly +impressible people, they kindly condescend to instruct us in all the +high arts, now and then correcting our very bad English. They are clever +fellows generally, being sure to get on the kind side of credulous +mothers with very impressible-headed daughters. + +There was, however, always a distinguished member of the St. Cecilia +society who let out all that took place at its assemblies. The vulgar +always knew what General danced with the lovely Miss A., and how they +looked, and what they said to each other; how many jewels Miss A. wore, +and the material her dress was made of; they knew who polkaed with the +accomplished Miss B., and how like a duchess she bore herself; they had +the exact name of the colonel who dashed along so like a knight with the +graceful and much-admired Mrs. D., whose husband was abroad serving his +country; what gallant captain of dragoons (captains of infantry were +looked upon as not what they might be) promenaded so imperiously with +the vivacious Miss E.; and what distinguished foreigner sat all night in +the corner holding a suspicious and very improper conversation with Miss +F., whose skirts never were free of scandal, and who had twice got the +pretty parson into difficulty with his church. Hence there was a +perpetual outgoing of scandal on the one side, and pelting of dirt on +the other. + +When Mr. Soloman sought the presence of Mrs. Swiggs and told her it was +all up with the St. Cecilia, and when that august member of the society +was so happily disappointed by his concluding with leaving it an +undamaged reputation, the whole story was not let out. In truth the +society was at that moment in a state of indignation, and its reputation +as well-nigh the last stage of disgrace as it were possible to bring it +without being entirely absorbed. The Baronet, who enjoyed a good joke, +and was not over-scrupulous in measuring the latitude of our credulity, +had, it seems, in addition to the little affair with Mrs. Constance, +been imprudent enough to introduce at one of the assemblies of the St. +Cecilia, a lady of exceedingly fair but frail import: this loveliest of +creatures--this angel of fallen fame--this jewel, so much sought after +in her own casket--this child of gentleness and beauty, before whom a +dozen gallant knights were paying homage, and claiming her hand for the +next waltz, turned out to be none other than the Anna Bonard we have +described at the house of Madame Flamingo. The discovery sent the whole +assembly into a fainting fit, and caused such a fluttering in the camp +of fashion. Reader! you may rest assured back-doors and smelling-bottles +were in great demand. + +The Baronet had introduced her as his cousin; just arrived, he said, in +the care of her father--the cousin whose beauty he had so often referred +to. So complete was her toilet and disguise, that none but the most +intimate associate could have detected the fraud. Do you ask us who was +the betrayer, reader? We answer,-- + +One whose highest ambition did seem that of getting her from her +paramour, George Mullholland. It was Judge Sleepyhorn. Reader! you will +remember him--the venerable, snowy-haired man, sitting on the lounge at +the house of Madame Flamingo, and on whom George Mullholland swore to +have revenge. The judge of a criminal court, the admonisher of the +erring, the sentencer of felons, the _habitue_ of the house of Madame +Flamingo--no libertine in disguise could be more scrupulous of his +standing in society, or so sensitive of the opinion held of him by the +virtuous fair, than was this daylight guardian of public morals. + +The Baronet got himself nicely out of the affair, and Mr. Soloman +Snivel, commonly called Mr. Soloman, the accommodation man, is at the +house of Madame Flamingo, endeavoring to effect a reconciliation between +the Judge and George Mullholland. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +IN WHICH IS SEEN A COMMINGLING OF CITIZENS. + + +Night has thrown her mantle over the city. There is a great gathering of +denizens at the house of Madame Flamingo. She has a _bal-masque_ +to-night. Her door is beset with richly-caparisoned equipages. The town +is on tip-toe to be there; we reluctantly follow it. An hundred +gaudily-decorated drinking saloon are filled with gaudier-dressed men. +In loudest accent rings the question--"Do you go to Madame Flamingo's +to-night?" Gentlemen of the genteel world, in shining broadcloth, touch +glasses and answer--"yes!" It is a wonderful city--this of ours. Vice +knows no restraint, poverty hath no friends here. We bow before the +shrine of midnight revelry; we bring licentiousness to our homes, but we +turn a deaf ear to the cries of poverty, and we gloat over the sale of +men. + +The sickly gas-light throws a sicklier glare over the narrow, unpaved +streets. The city is on a frolic, a thing not uncommon with it. Lithe +and portly-figured men, bearing dominos in their hands, saunter along +the sidewalk, now dangling ponderous watch-chains, then flaunting +highly-perfumed cambrics--all puffing the fumes of choice cigars. If +accosted by a grave wayfarer--they are going to the opera! They are +dressed in the style of opera-goers. And the road to the opera seems the +same as that leading to the house of the old hostess. A gaily-equipped +carriage approaches. We hear the loud, coarse laughing of those it so +buoyantly bears, then there comes full to view the glare of yellow silks +and red satins, and doubtful jewels--worn by denizens from whose faded +brows the laurel wreath hath fallen. How shrunken with the sorrow of +their wretched lives, and yet how sportive they seem! The pale gas-light +throws a spectre-like hue over their paler features; the artificial +crimson with which they would adorn the withered cheek refuses to lend a +charm to features wan and ghastly. The very air is sickly with the odor +of their cosmetics. And with flaunting cambrics they bend over carriage +sides, salute each and every pedestrian, and receive in return answers +unsuited to refined ears. They pass into the dim vista, but we see with +the aid of that flickering gas, the shadow of that polluting hand which +hastens life into death. + +Old Mr. McArthur, who sits smoking his long pipe in the door of his +crazy-looking curiosity shop, (he has just parted company with the young +theologian, having assured him he would find a place to stow Tom Swiggs +in,) wonders where the fashionable world of Charleston can be going? It +is going to the house of the Flamingo. The St. Cecilia were to have had +a ball to-night; scandal and the greater attractions here have closed +its doors. + +A long line of carriages files past the door of the old hostess. An +incessant tripping of feet, delicately encased in bright-colored +slippers; an ominous fluttering of gaudy silks and satins; an inciting +glare of borrowed jewelry, mingling with second-hand lace; an +heterogeneous gleaming of bare, brawny arms, and distended busts, all +lend a sort of barbaric splendor to that mysterious group floating, as +it were, into a hall in one blaze of light. A soft carpet, overlain +with brown linen, is spread from the curbstone into the hall. Two +well-developed policemen guard the entrance, take tickets of those who +pass in, and then exchange smiles of recognition with venerable looking +gentlemen in masks. The hostess, a clever "business man" in her way, has +made the admission fee one dollar. Having paid the authorities ten +dollars, and honored every Alderman with a complimentary ticket, who has +a better right? No one has a nicer regard for the Board of Aldermen than +Madame Flamingo; no one can reciprocate this regard more condescendingly +than the honorable Board of Aldermen do. Having got herself arrayed in a +dress of sky-blue satin, that ever and anon streams, cloud-like, behind +her, and a lace cap of approved fashion, with pink strings nicely +bordered in gimp, and a rich Honiton cape, jauntily thrown over her +shoulders, and secured under the chin with a great cluster of blazing +diamonds, and rows of unpolished pearls at her wrists, which are +immersed in crimped ruffles, she doddles up and down the hall in a state +of general excitement. A corpulent colored man, dressed in the garb of a +beadle,--a large staff in his right hand, a cocked hat on his head, and +broad white stripes down his flowing coat, stands midway between the +parlor doors. He is fussy enough, and stupid enough, for a Paddington +beadle. Now Madame Flamingo looks scornfully at him, scolds him, pushes +him aside; he is only a slave she purchased for the purpose; she +commands that he gracefully touch his hat (she snatches it from his +head, and having elevated it over her own, performs the delicate motion +she would have him imitate) to every visitor. The least neglect of duty +will incur (she tells him in language he cannot mistake) the penalty of +thirty-nine well laid on in the morning. In another minute her fat, +chubby-face glows with smiles, her whole soul seems lighted up with +childlike enthusiasm; she has a warm welcome for each new comer, retorts +saliently upon her old friends, and says--"you know how welcome you all +are!" Then she curtsies with such becoming grace. "The house, you know, +gentlemen, is a commonwealth to-night." Ah! she recognizes the tall, +comely figure of Mr. Soloman, the accommodation man. He did not spring +from among the bevy of coat-takers, and hood-retainers, at the extreme +end of the great hall, nor from among the heap of promiscuous garments +piled in one corner; and yet he is here, looking as if some magic +process had brought him from a mysterious labyrinth. "Couldn't get along +without me, you see. It's an ambition with me to befriend everybody. If +I can do a bit of a good turn for a friend, so much the better!" And he +grasps the old hostess by the hand with a self-satisfaction he rather +improves by tapping her encouragingly on the shoulder. "You'll make a +right good thing of this!--a clear thousand, eh?" + +"The fates have so ordained it," smiles naively the old woman. + +"Of course the fates could not ordain otherwise--" + +"As to that, Mr. Soloman, I sometimes think the gods are with me, and +then again I think they are against me. The witches--they have done my +fortune a dozen times or more--always predict evil (I consult them +whenever a sad fit comes over me), but witches are not to be depended +upon! I am sure I think what a fool I am for consulting them at all." +She espies, for her trade of sin hath made keen her eye, the venerable +figure of Judge Sleepyhorn advancing up the hall, masked. "Couldn't get +along without you," she lisps, tripping towards him, and greeting him +with the familiarity of an intimate friend. "I'm rather aristocratic, +you'll say!--and I confess I am, though a democrat in principle!" And +Madame Flamingo confirms what she says with two very dignified nods. As +the Judge passes silently in she pats him encouragingly on the back, +saying,--"There ain't no one in this house what'll hurt a hair on your +head." The Judge heeds not what she says. + +"My honor for it, Madame, but I think your guests highly favored, +altogether! Fine weather, and the prospect of a _bal-masque_ of Pompeian +splendor. The old Judge, eh?" + +"The gods smile--the gods smile, Mr. Soloman!" interrupts the hostess, +bowing and swaying her head in rapid succession. + +"The gods have their eye on him to-night--he's a marked man! A jolly old +cove of a Judge, he is! Cares no more about rules and precedents, on the +bench, than he does for the rights and precedents some persons profess +to have in this house. A high old blade to administer justice, eh?" + +"But, you see, Mr. Soloman," the hostess interrupts, a gracious bow +keeping time with the motion of her hand, "he is such an aristocratic +prop in the character of my house." + +"I rather like that, I confess, Madame. You have grown rich off the +aristocracy. Now, don't get into a state of excitement!" says Mr. +Soloman, fingering his long Saxon beard, and eyeing her mischievously. +She sees a bevy of richly-dressed persons advancing up the hall in high +glee. Indeed her house is rapidly filling to the fourth story. And yet +they come! she says. "The gods are in for a time. I love to make the +gods happy." + +Mr. Soloman has lain his hand upon her arm retentively. + +"It is not that the aristocracy and such good persons as the Judge spend +so much here. But they give _eclat_ to the house, and _eclat_ is money. +That's it, sir! Gold is the deity of _our_ pantheon! Bless you (the +hostess evinces the enthusiasm of a politician), what better evidence of +the reputation of my house than is before you, do you want? I've shut up +the great Italian opera, with its three squalling prima donnas, which in +turn has shut up the poor, silly _Empresario_ as they call him; and the +St. Cecilia I have just used up. I'm a team in my way, you see;--run all +these fashionable oppositions right into bankruptcy." Never were words +spoken with more truth. Want of patronage found all places of rational +amusement closed. Societies for intellectual improvement, one after +another, died of poverty. Fashionable lectures had attendance only when +fashionable lecturers came from the North; and the Northman was sure to +regard our taste through the standard of what he saw before him. + +The house of the hostess triumphs, and is corpulent of wealth and +splendor. To-morrow she will feed with the rich crumbs that fall from +her table the starving poor. And although she holds poor virtue in utter +contempt, feeding the poor she regards a large score on the passport to +a better world. A great marble stairway winds its way upward at the +farther end of the hall, and near it are two small balconies, one on +each side, presenting barricades of millinery surmounted with the +picturesque faces of some two dozen denizens, who keep up an incessant +gabbling, interspersed here and there with jeers directed at Mr. +Soloman. "Who is he seeking to accommodate to-night?" they inquire, +laughing merrily. + +The house is full, the hostess has not space for one friend more; she +commands the policemen to close doors. An Alderman is the only exception +to her _fiat_. "You see," she says, addressing herself to a courtly +individual who has just saluted her with urbane deportment, "I must +preserve the _otium cum dignitate_ of my (did I get it right?) standing +in society. I don't always get these Latin sayings right. Our +Congressmen don't. And, you see, like them, I ain't a Latin scholar, and +may be excused for any little slips. Politics and larnin' don't get +along well together. Speaking of politics, I confess I rather belong to +the Commander and Quabblebum school--I do!" + +At this moment (a tuning of instruments is heard in the dancing-hall) +the tall figure of the accommodation man is seen, in company of the +venerable Judge, passing hurriedly into a room on the right of the +winding stairs before described. "Judge!" he exclaims, closing the door +quickly after him, "you will be discovered and exposed. I am not +surprised at your passion for her, nor the means by which you seek to +destroy the relations existing between her and George Mullholland. It is +an evidence of taste in you. But she is proud to a fault, and, this I +say in friendship, you so wounded her feelings, when you betrayed her to +the St. Cecilia, that she has sworn to have revenge on you. George +Mullholland, too, has sworn to have your life. + +"I tell you what it is, Judge, (the accommodation man assumes the air of +a bank director,) I have just conceived--you will admit I have an +inventive mind!--a plot that will carry you clean through the whole +affair. Your ambition is divided between a passion for this charming +creature and the good opinion of better society. The resolution to +retain the good opinion of society is doing noble battle in your heart; +but it is the weaker vessel, and it always will be so with a man of your +mould, inasmuch as such resolutions are backed up by the less fierce +elements of our nature. Put this down as an established principle. Well, +then, I will take upon myself the betrayal. I will plead you ignorant of +the charge, procure her forgiveness, and reconcile the matter with this +Mullholland. It's worth an hundred or more, eh?" + +The venerable man smiles, shakes his head as if heedless of the +admonition, and again covers his face with his domino. + +The accommodation man, calling him by his judicial title, says he will +yet repent the refusal! + +It is ten o'clock. The gentleman slightly colored, who represents a +fussy beadle, makes a flourish with his great staff. The doors of the +dancing hall are thrown open. Like the rushing of the gulf stream there +floods in a motley procession of painted females and masked men--the +former in dresses as varied in hue as the fires of remorse burning out +their unuttered thoughts. Two and two they jeer and crowd their way +along into the spacious hall, the walls of which are frescoed in +extravagant mythological designs, the roof painted in fret work, and the +cornices interspersed with seraphs in stucco and gilt. The lights of two +massive chandeliers throw a bewitching refulgence over a scene at once +picturesque and mysterious; and from four tall mirrors secured between +the windows, is reflected the forms and movements of the masquers. + +Reader! you have nothing in this democratic country with which to +successfully compare it. And to seek a comparison in the old world, +where vice, as in this city of chivalry, hath a license, serves not our +office. + +Madame Flamingo, flanked right and left by twelve colored gentlemen, +who, their collars decorated with white and pink rosettes, officiate as +masters of ceremony, and form a crescent in front of the thronging +procession, steps gradually backward, curtsying and bowing, and +spreading her hands to her guests, after the manner of my Lord +Chamberlain. + +Eight colored musicians, (everything is colored here,) perched on a +raised platform covered with maroon-colored plush, at the signal of a +lusty-tongued call-master, strike up a march, to which the motley throng +attempt to keep time. It is martial enough; and discordant enough for +anything but keeping time to. + +The plush-covered benches filing along the sides and ends of the hall +are eagerly sought after and occupied by a strange mixture of lookers on +in Vienna. Here the hoary-headed father sits beside a newly-initiated +youth who is receiving his first lesson of dissipation. There the grave +and chivalric planter sports with the nice young man, who is cultivating +a beard and his way into the by-ways. A little further on the suspicious +looking gambler sits freely conversing with the man whom a degrading +public opinion has raised to the dignity of the judicial bench. Yonder +is seen the man who has eaten his way into fashionable society, (and by +fashionable society very much caressed in return,) the bosom companion +of the man whose crimes have made him an outcast. + +Generous reader! contemplate this grotesque assembly; study the object +Madame Flamingo has in gathering it to her fold. Does it not present the +accessories to wrong doing? Does it not show that the wrong-doer and the +criminally inclined, too often receive encouragement by the example of +those whoso duty it is to protect society? The spread of crime, alas! +for the profession, is too often regarded by the lawyer as rather a +desirable means of increasing his trade. + +Quadrille follows quadrille, the waltz succeeds the schottish, the scene +presents one bewildering maze of flaunting gossamers and girating +bodies, now floating sylph-like into the foreground, then whirling +seductively into the shadowy vista, where the joyous laugh dies out in +the din of voices. The excitement has seized upon the head and heart of +the young,--the child who stood trembling between the first and second +downward step finds her reeling brain a captive in this snare set to +seal her ruin. + +Now the music ceases, the lusty-tongued call-master stands surveying +what he is pleased to call the oriental splendor of this grotesque +assembly. He doesn't know who wouldn't patronize such a house! It +suddenly forms in platoon, and marshalled by slightly-colored masters of +ceremony, promenades in an oblong figure. + +Here, leaning modestly on the arm of a tall figure in military uniform, +and advancing slowly up the hall, is a girl of some sixteen summers. Her +finely-rounded form is in harmony with the ravishing vivacity of her +face, which is beautifully oval. Seen by the glaring gas-light her +complexion is singularly clear and pale. But that freshness which had +gained her many an admirer, and which gave such a charm to the roundness +of early youth, we look for in vain. And yet there is a softness and +delicacy about her well-cut and womanly features--a childlike sweetness +in her smile--a glow of thoughtfulness in those great, flashing black +eyes--an expression of melancholy in which at short intervals we read +her thoughts--an incessant playing of those long dark eyelashes, that +clothes her charms with an irresistible, a soul-inspiring seductiveness. +Her dress, of moire antique, is chasteness itself; her bust exquisite +symmetry; it heaves as softly as if touched by some gentle zephyr. From +an Haidean brow falls and floats undulating over her marble-like +shoulders, the massive folds of her glossy black hair. Nature had indeed +been lavish of her gifts on this fair creature, to whose charms no +painter could give a touch more fascinating. This girl, whose elastic +step and erect carriage contrasts strangely with the languid forms about +her, is Anna Bonard, the neglected, the betrayed. There passes and +repasses her, now contemplating her with a curious stare, then muttering +inaudibly, a man of portly figure, in mask and cowl. He touches with a +delicate hand his watch-guard, we see two sharp, lecherous eyes peering +through the domino; he folds his arms and pauses a few seconds, as if to +survey the metal of her companion, then crosses and recrosses her path. +Presently his singular demeanor attracts her attention, a curl of +sarcasm is seen on her lip, her brow darkens, her dark orbs flash as of +fire,--all the heart-burnings of a soul stung with shame are seen to +quicken and make ghastly those features that but a moment before shone +lambent as summer lightning. He pauses as with a look of withering scorn +she scans him from head to foot, raises covertly her left hand, tossing +carelessly her glossy hair on her shoulder, and with lightning quickness +snatches with her right the domino from his face. "Hypocrite!" she +exclaims, dashing it to the ground, and with her foot placed defiantly +upon the domino, assumes a tragic attitude, her right arm extended, and +the forefinger of her hand pointing in his face, "Ah!" she continues, in +biting accents, "it is against the perfidy of such as you. I have +struggled. Your false face, like your heart, needed a disguise. But I +have dragged it away, that you may be judged as you are. This is my +satisfaction for your betrayal. Oh that I could have deeper revenge!" +She has unmasked Judge Sleepyhorn, who stands before the anxious gaze of +an hundred night revellers, pressing eagerly to the scene of confusion. +Madame Flamingo's house, as you may judge, is much out in its dignity, +and in a general uproar. There was something touching--something that +the graver head might ponder over, in the words of this unfortunate +girl--"I have struggled!" A heedless and gold-getting world seldom +enters upon the mystery of its meaning. But it hath a meaning deep and +powerful in its appeal to society--one that might serve the good of a +commonwealth did society stoop and take it by the hand. + +So sudden was the motion with which this girl snatched the mask from the +face of the Judge, (he stood as if appalled,) that, ere he had gained +his self-possession, she drew from her girdle a pearl-hilted stiletto, +and in attempting to ward off the dreadful lunge, he struck it from her +hand, and into her own bosom. The weapon fell gory to the floor--the +blood trickled down her bodice--a cry of "murder" resounded through the +hall! The administrator of justice rushed out of the door as the unhappy +girl swooned in the arms of her partner. A scene so confused and wild +that it bewilders the brain, now ensued. Madame Flamingo calls loudly +for Mr. Soloman; and as the reputation of her house is uppermost in her +thoughts, she atones for its imperiled condition by fainting in the arms +of a grave old gentleman, who was beating a hasty retreat, and whose +respectability she may compromise through this uncalled-for act. + +A young man of slender form, and pale, sandy features, makes his way +through the crowd, clasps Anna affectionately in his arms, imprints a +kiss on her pallid brow, and bears her out of the hall. + +By the aid of hartshorn and a few dashes of cold water, the old hostess +is pleased to come to, as we say, and set about putting her house in +order. Mr. Soloman, to the great joy of those who did not deem it +prudent to make their escape, steps in to negotiate for the peace of the +house and the restoration of order. "It is all the result of a mistake," +he says laughingly, and good-naturedly, patting every one he meets on +the shoulder. "A little bit of jealousy on the part of the girl. It all +had its origin in an error that can be easily rectified. In a word, +there's much ado about nothing in the whole of it. Little affairs of +this kind are incident to fashionable society all over the world! The +lady being only scratched, is more frightened than hurt. Nobody is +killed; and if there were, why killings are become so fashionable, that +if the killed be not a gentleman, nobody thinks anything of it," he +continues. And Mr. Soloman being an excellent diplomatist, does, with +the aid of the hostess, her twelve masters of ceremony, her beadle, and +two policemen, forthwith bring the house to a more orderly condition. +But night has rolled into the page of the past, the gray dawn of morning +is peeping in at the half-closed windows, the lights burning in the +chandeliers shed a pale glow over the wearied features of those who +drag, as it were, their languid bodies to the stifled music of unwilling +slaves. And while daylight seems modestly contending with the vulgar +glare within, there appears among the pale revellers a paler ghost, who, +having stalked thrice up and down the hall, preserving the frigidity and +ghostliness of the tomb, answering not the questions that are put to +him, and otherwise deporting himself as becometh a ghost of good metal, +is being taken for a demon of wicked import. Now he pauses at the end of +the hall, faces with spectre-like stare the alarmed group at the +opposite end, rests his left elbow on his scythe-staff, and having set +his glass on the floor, points to its running sands warningly with his +right forefinger. Not a muscle does he move. "Truly a ghost!" exclaims +one. "A ghost would have vanished before this," whispers another. "Speak +to him," a third responds, as the musicians are seen to pale and leave +their benches. Madame Flamingo, pale and weary, is first to rush for the +door, shrieking as his ghostship turns his grim face upon her. Shriek +follows shriek, the lights are put out, the gray dawn plays upon and +makes doubly frightful the spectre. A Pandemonium of shriekings and +beseechings is succeeded by a stillness as of the tomb. Our ghost is +victor. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +WHAT TAKES PLACE BETWEEN GEORGE MULLHOLLAND AND MR. SNIVEL. + + +The man who kissed and bore away the prostrate girl was George +Mullholland. + +"Oh! George--George!" she whispers imploringly, as her eyes meet his; +and turning upon the couch of her chamber, where he hath lain her, +awakes to consciousness, and finds him watching over her with a lover's +solicitude. "I was not cold because I loved you less--oh no! It was to +propitiate my ambition--to be free of the bondage of this house--to +purge myself of the past--to better my future!" And she lays her pale, +nervous hand gently on his arm--then grasps his hand and presses it +fervently to her lips. + +Though placed beyond the pale of society--though envied by one extreme +and shunned by the other--she finds George her only true friend. He +parts and smooths gently over her polished shoulders her dishevelled +hair; he watches over her with the tenderness of a brother; he quenches +and wipes away the blood oozing from her wounded breast; he kisses and +kisses her flushed cheek, and bathes her Ion-like brow. He forgives all. +His heart would speak if his tongue had words to represent it. He would +the past were buried--the thought of having wronged him forgotten. She +recognizes in his solicitude for her the sincerity of his heart. It +touches like sweet music the tenderest chords of her own; and like +gushing fountains her great black eyes fill with tears. She buries her +face in her hands, crying, "Never, never, George, (I swear it before the +God I have wronged, but whose forgiveness I still pray,) will I again +forget my obligation to you! I care not how high in station he who seeks +me maybe. Ambitious!--I was misled. His money lured me away, but he +betrayed me in the face of his promises. Henceforth I have nothing for +this deceptive world; I receive of it nothing but betrayal--" + +"The world wants nothing more of either of us," interrupts George. + +More wounded in her feelings than in her flesh, she sobs and wrings her +hands like one in despair. + +"You have ambition. I am too poor to serve your ambition!" + +That word, too "poor," is more than her already distracted brain can +bear up under. It brings back the terrible picture of their past +history; it goads and agonizes her very soul. She throws her arms +frantically about his neck; presses him to her bosom; kisses him with +the fervor of a child. Having pledged his forgiveness with a kiss, and +sealed it by calling in a witness too often profaned on such occasions, +George calms her feelings as best he can; then he smooths with a gentle +hand the folds of her uplifted dress, and with them curtains the satin +slippers that so delicately encase her small feet. This done, he spreads +over her the richly-lined India morning-gown presented to her a few days +ago by the Judge, who, as she says, so wantonly betrayed her, and on +whom she sought revenge. Like a Delian maid, surrounded with Oriental +luxury, and reclining on satin and velvet, she flings her flowing hair +over her shoulders, nestles her weary head in the embroidered cushion, +and with the hand of her only true friend firmly grasped in her own, +soothes away into a calm sleep--that sovereign but too transient balm +for sorrowing hearts. + +Our scene changes. The ghost hath taken himself to the graveyard; the +morning dawns soft and sunny on what we harmlessly style the sunny city +of the sunny South. Madame Flamingo hath resolved to nail another +horse-shoe over her door. She will propitiate (so she hath it) the god +of ghosts. + +George Mullholland, having neither visible means of gaining a livelihood +nor a settled home, may be seen in a solitary box at Baker's, (a +coffee-house at the corner of Meeting and Market streets,) eating an +humble breakfast. About him there is a forlornness that the quick eye +never fails to discover in the manners of the homeless man. "Cleverly +done," he says, laying down the _Mercury_ newspaper, in which it is set +forth that "the St. Cecilia, in consequence of an affliction in the +family of one of its principal members, postponed its assembly last +night. The theatre, in consequence of a misunderstanding between the +manager and his people, was also closed. The lecture on comparative +anatomy, by Professor Bones, which was to have been delivered at +Hibernian Hall, is, in consequence of the indisposition of the learned +Professor, put off to Tuesday evening next, when he will have, as he +deserves, an overflowing house. Tickets, as before, may be had at all +the music and bookstores." The said facetious journal was silent on the +superior attractions at the house of the old hostess; nor did it deem it +prudent to let drop a word on the misunderstanding between the patrons +of the drama and the said theatrical manager, inasmuch as it was one of +those that are sure to give rise to a very serious misunderstanding +between that functionary and his poor people. + +In another column the short but potent line met his eye: "An overflowing +and exceedingly fashionable house greeted the Negro Minstrels last +night. First-rate talent never goes begging in our city." George sips +his coffee and smiles. Wonderfully clever these editors are, he thinks. +They have nice apologies for public taste always on hand; set the +country by the ears now and then; and amuse themselves with carrying on +the most prudent description of wars. + +His own isolated condition, however, is uppermost in his mind. Poverty +and wretchedness stare him in the face on one side; chivalry, on the +other, has no bows for him while daylight lasts. Instinct whispers in +his ear--where one exists the other is sure to be. + +To the end that this young man will perform a somewhat important part in +the by-ways of this history, some further description of him may be +necessary. George Mullholland stands some five feet nine, is +wiry-limbed, and slender and erect of person. Of light complexion, his +features, are sharp and irregular, his face narrow and freckled, his +forehead small and retreating, his hair sandy and short-cropped. Add to +these two small, dull, gray eyes, and you have features not easily +described. Nevertheless, there are moments when his countenance wears an +expression of mildness--one in which the quick eye may read a character +more inoffensive than intrusive. A swallow-tail blue coat, of ample +skirts, and brass buttons; a bright-colored waistcoat, opening an +avalanche of shirt-bosom, blossoming with cheap jewelry; a broad, +rolling shirt-collar, tied carelessly with a blue ribbon; a +steeple-crowned hat, set on the side of his head with a challenging air; +and a pair of broadly-striped and puckered trowsers, reaching well over +a small-toed and highly-glazed boot, constitutes his dress. For the +exact set of those two last-named articles of his wardrobe he maintains +a scrupulous regard. We are compelled to acknowledge George an +importation from New York, where he would be the more readily recognized +by that vulgar epithet, too frequently used by the self-styled +refined--"a swell." + +Life with George is a mere drift of uncertainty. As for aims and ends, +why he sees the safer thing in having nothing to do with them. Mr. Tom +Toddleworth once advised this course, and Tom was esteemed good +authority in such matters. Like many others, his character is made up of +those yielding qualities which the teachings of good men may elevate to +usefulness, or bad men corrupt by their examples. There is a stage in +the early youth of such persons when we find their minds singularly +susceptible, and ready to give rapid growth to all the vices of depraved +men; while they are equally apt in receiving good, if good men but take +the trouble to care for them, and inculcate lessons of morality. + +Not having a recognized home, we may add, in resuming our story, that +George makes Baker's his accustomed haunt during the day, as do also +numerous others of his class--a class recognized and made use of by men +in the higher walks of life only at night. + +"Ah! ha, ha! into a tight place this time, George," laughs out Mr. +Soloman, the accommodation man, as he hastens into the room, seats +himself in the box with George, and seizes his hand with the +earnestness of a true friend. Mr. Soloman can deport himself on all +occasions with becoming good nature. "It's got out, you see." + +"What has got out?" interrupts George, maintaining a careless +indifference. + +"Come now! none of that, old fellow." + +"If I understood you--" + +"That affair last night," pursues Mr. Soloman, his delicate fingers +wandering into his more delicately-combed beard. "It'll go hard with +you. He's a stubborn old cove, that Sleepyhorn; administers the law as +Caesar was wont to. Yesterday he sent seven to the whipping-post; to-day +he hangs two 'niggers' and a white man. There is a consolation in +getting rid of the white. I say this because no one loses a dollar by +it." + +George, continuing to masticate his bread, says it has nothing to do +with him. He may hang the town. + +"If I can do you a bit of a good turn, why here's your man. But you must +not talk that way--you must not, George, I assure you!" Mr. Soloman +assumes great seriousness of countenance, and again, in a friendly way, +takes George by the hand. "That poignard, George, was yours. It was +picked up by myself when it fell from your hand--" + +"My hand! my hand!" George quietly interposes, his countenance paling, +and his eyes wandering in excitement. + +"Now don't attempt to disguise the matter, you know! Come out on the +square--own up! Jealousy plays the devil with one now and then. I +know--I have had a touch of it; had many a little love affair in my +time--" + +George again interrupts by inquiring to what he is coming. + +"To the attempt (the accommodation man assumes an air of sternness) you +made last night on the life of that unhappy girl. It is needless," he +adds, "to plead ignorance. The Judge has the poignard; and what's more, +there are four witnesses ready to testify. It'll go hard with you, my +boy." He shakes his head warningly. + +"I swear before God and man I am as innocent as ignorant of the charge. +The poignard I confess is mine; but I had no part in the act of last +night, save to carry the prostrate girl--the girl I dearly love--away. +This I can prove by her own lips." + +Mr. Soloman, with an air of legal profundity, says: "This is all very +well in its way, George, but it won't stand in law. The law is what you +have got to get at. And when you have got at it, you must get round it; +and then you must twist it and work it every which way--only be careful +not to turn its points against yourself; that, you know, is the way we +lawyers do the thing. You'll think we're a sharp lot; and we have to be +sharp, as times are." + +"It is not surprising," replies George, as if waking from a fit of +abstraction, "that she should have sought revenge of one who so basely +betrayed her at the St. Cecilia--" + +"There, there!" Mr. Soloman interrupts, changing entirely the expression +of his countenance, "the whole thing is out! I said there was an +unexplained mystery somewhere. It was not the Judge, but me who betrayed +her to the assembly. Bless you, (he smiles, and crooking his finger, +beckons a servant, whom he orders to bring a julep,) I was bound to do +it, being the guardian of the Society's dignity, which office I have +held for years. But you don't mean to have it that the girl +attempted--(he suddenly corrects himself)--Ah, that won't do, George. +Present my compliments to Anna--I wouldn't for the world do aught to +hurt her feelings, you know that--and say I am ready to get on my knees +to her to confess myself a penitent for having injured her feelings. +Yes, I am ready to do anything that will procure her forgiveness. I +plead guilty. But she must in return forgive the Judge. He is hard in +law matters--that is, we of the law consider him so--now and then; but +laying that aside, he is one of the best old fellows in the world, loves +Anna to distraction; nor has he the worst opinion in the world of you, +George. Fact is, I have several times heard him refer to you in terms of +praise. As I said before, being the man to do you a bit of a good turn, +take my advice as a friend. The Judge has got you in his grasp, +according to every established principle of law; and having four good +and competent witnesses, (You have no voice in law, and Anna's won't +stand before a jury,) will send you up for a twelve-months' residence in +Mount Rascal." + +It will be almost needless here to add, that Mr. Soloman had, in an +interview with the Judge, arranged, in consideration of a goodly fee, to +assume the responsibility of the betrayal at the St. Cecilia; and also +to bring about a reconciliation between him and the girl he so +passionately sought. + +Keep out of the way a few days, and everything will blow over and come +right. I will procure you the Judge's friendship--yes, his money, if you +want. More than that, I will acknowledge my guilt to Anna; and being as +generous of heart as she is beautiful, she will, having discovered the +mistake, forgive me and make amends to the Judge for her foolish act. + +It is almost superfluous to add, that the apparent sincerity with which +the accommodation man pleaded, had its effect on the weak-minded man. He +loved dearly the girl, but poverty hung like a leaden cloud over him. +Poverty stripped him of the means of gratifying her ambition; poverty +held him fast locked in its blighting chains; poverty forbid his +rescuing her from the condition necessity had imposed upon her; poverty +was goading him into crime; and through crime only did he see the means +of securing to himself the cherished object of his love. + +"I am not dead to your friendship, but I am too sad at heart to make any +pledge that involves Anna, at this moment. We met in wretchedness, came +up in neglect and crime, sealed our love with the hard seal of +suffering. Oh! what a history of misery my heart could unfold, if it had +but a tongue!" George replies, in subdued accents, as a tear courses +down his cheek. + +Extending his hand, with an air of encouragement, Mr. Soloman says +nothing in the world would so much interest him as a history of the +relations existing between George and Anna. Their tastes, aims, and very +natures, are different. To him their connection is clothed in mystery. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +IN WHICH A GLEAM OF LIGHT IS SHED ON THE HISTORY OF ANNA BONARD. + + +A bottle of wine, and the mild, persuasive manner of Mr. Snivel, so +completely won over George's confidence, that, like one of that class +always too ready to give out their heart-achings at the touch of +sympathy, and too easily betrayed through misplaced confidence, he +commences relating his history. That of Anna is identified with it. "We +will together proceed to New York, for it is there, among haunts of vice +and depravity--" + +"In depth of degradation they have no counterpart on our globe," Mr. +Soloman interrupts, filling his glass. + +"We came up together--knew each other, but not ourselves. That was our +dark age." George pauses for a moment. + +"Bless you," again interrupts Mr. Soloman, tipping his glass very +politely, "I never--that is, when I hear our people who get themselves +laced into narrow-stringed Calvinism, and long-founded foreign missions, +talk--think much could have come of the dark ages. I speak after the +manner of an attorney, when I say this. We hear a deal of the dark ages, +the crimes of the dark ages, the dark idolatry of darker Africa. My word +for it, and it's something, if they had anything darker in Sodom; if +they had in Babylon a state of degradation more hardened of crime; if +in Egypt there existed a benightedness more stubbornly opposed to the +laws of God--than is to be found in that New York; that city of merchant +princes with princely palaces; that modern Pompeii into which a mighty +commerce teems its mightier gold, where a coarse throng revel in coarser +luxury, where a thousand gaudy churches rear heavenward their gaudier +steeples, then I have no pity for Sodom, not a tear to shed over fallen +Babylon, and very little love for Egypt." Mr. Snivel concludes, +saying--"proceed, young man." + +"Of my mother I know nothing. My father (I mean the man I called father, +but who they said was not my father, though he was the only one that +cared anything for me) was Tom English, who used to live here and there +with me about the Points. He was always looking in at Paddy Pie's, in +Orange street, and Paddy Pie got all his money, and then Paddy Pie and +him quarrelled, and we were turned out of Paddy Pie's house. So we used +to lodge here and there, in the cellars about the Points, in 'Cut Throat +Alley,' or 'Cow Bay,' or 'Murderer's Alley,' or in 'The House of the +Nine Nations,' or wherever we could get a sixpenny rag to lay down upon. +Nobody but English seemed to care for me, and English cared for nobody +but me. And English got thick with Mrs. McCarty and her three +daughters--they kept the Rookery in 'Cow Bay,' which we used to get to +up a long pair of stairs outside, and which God knows I never want to +think of again,--where sometimes fourteen or fifteen of us, men and +women, used to sleep in a little room Mrs. McCarty paid eight dollars a +month for. And Mr. Crown, who always seemed a cross sort of man, and was +agent for all the houses on the Points I thought, used to say she had it +too cheap. And English got to thinking a good deal of Mrs. McCarty, and +Mrs. McCarty's daughters got to thinking a good deal of him. And +Boatswain Bill, who lived at the house of the 'Nine Nations'--the house +they said had a bottomless pit--and English used to fight a deal about +the Miss McCartys, and Bill one night threw English over the high stoop, +down upon the pavement, and broke his arms. They said it was a wonder it +hadn't a broken his neck. Fighting Mary (Mary didn't go by that name +then) came up and took English's part, and whipped Boatswain Bill, and +said she'd whip the whole house of the 'Nine Nations' if it had spunk +enough in it to come on. But no one dare have a set-to with Mary. Mary +used to drink a deal of gin, and say--'this gin and the devil'll get us +all one of these days. I wonder if Mr. Crown'll sell bad gin to his +highness when he gets him?' Well, Bill was sent up for six months, so +the McCartys had peace in the house, and Mrs. McCarty got him little +things, and did for English until his arms got well. Then he got a +little money, (I don't know how he got it,) and Paddy Pie made good +friends with him, and got him from the Rookery, and then all his money. +I used to think all the money in the Points found its way either to the +house of Paddy Pie, or the Bottomless Pit at the house of the 'Nine +Nations,' and all the clothes to the sign of the 'Three Martyrs,' which +the man with the eagle face kept round the corner. + +"English used to say in one of his troubled fits, 'I'd like to be a +respectable man, and get out of this, if there was a chance, and do +something for you, George. There's no chance, you see.' And when we went +into Broadway, which we did now and then, and saw what another world it +was, and how rich everything looked, English used to shake his head and +say, 'they don't know how we live, George.' + +"Paddy Pie soon quarrelled with English, and being penniless again we +had to shift for ourselves. English didn't like to go back to Mrs. +McCarty, so we used to sleep at Mrs. Sullivan's cellar in 'Cut Throat +Alley.' And Mrs. Sullivan's cellar was only about twelve feet by twenty, +and high enough to stand up in, and wet enough for anything, and so +overrun with rats and vermin that we couldn't sleep. There were nine +rag-beds in the cellar, which as many as twenty-three would sometimes +sleep on, or, if they were not too tipsy, try to sleep on. And folks +used to come into the cellar at night, and be found dead in the morning. +This made such a fuss in the neighborhood (there was always a fuss when +Old Bones, the coroner, was about), and frightened so many, that Mrs. +Sullivan couldn't get lodgers for weeks. She used to nail no end of +horse-shoes over the door to keep out the ghosts of them that died last. +But it was a long while before her lodgers got courage enough to come +back. Then we went to the house of the Blazers, in 'Cow Bay,' and used +to lodge there with Yellow Bill. They said Bill was a thief by +profession; but I wasn't old enough to be a judge. Little Lizza Rock, +the nondescript, as people called her, used to live at the Blazers. Poor +Lizza had a hard time of it, and used to sigh and say she wished she was +dead. Nobody thought of her, she said, and she was nothing because she +was deformed, and a cripple. She was about four feet high, had a face +like a bull-dog, and a swollen chest, and a hunchback, a deformed leg, +and went with a crutch. She never combed her hair, and what few rags she +had on her back hung in filth. What few shillings she got were sure to +find their way either into Bill's pocket, or send her tipsy into the +'Bottomless Pit' of the house of the 'Nine Nations.' There was in the +Bottomless Pit a never-ending stream of gin that sent everybody to the +Tombs, and from the Tombs to the grave. But Lizza was good to me, and +used to take care of me, and steal little things for me from old Dan +Sullivan, who begged in Broadway, and let Yellow Bill get his money, by +getting him tipsy. And I got to liking Lizza, for we both seemed to have +no one in the world who cared for us but English. And there was always +some trouble between the Blazers and the people at the house of the +'Nine Nations.' + +"Well, English was hard to do for some time, and through necessity, +which he said a deal about, we were driven out of every place we had +sought shelter in. And English did something they sent him up for a +twelve-month for, and I was left to get on as I could. I was took in by +'Hard-Fisted Sall,' who always wore a knuckle-duster, and used to knock +everybody down she met, and threatened a dozen times to whip Mr. +Fitzgerald, the detective, and used to rob every one she took in tow, +and said if she could only knock down and rob the whole pumpkin-headed +corporation she should die easy, for then she would know she had done a +good thing for the public, whose money they were squandering without +once thinking how the condition of such wretches as herself could be +bettered. + +"English died before he had been up two months. And death reconciled the +little difficulty between him and the McCartys; and old Mrs. McCarty's +liking for him came back, and she went crying to the Bellevue and begged +them, saying she was his mother, to let her take his body away and bury +it. They let her have it, and she brought it away to the rookery, in a +red coffin, and got a clean sheet of the Blazers, and hung it up beside +the coffin, and set four candles on a table, and a little cross between +them, and then borrowed a Bible with a cross on it, and laid it upon the +coffin. Then they sent for me. I cried and kissed poor English, for poor +English was the only father I knew, and he was good to me. I never shall +forget what I saw in that little room that night. I found a dozen +friends and the McCartys there, forming a half-circle of curious and +demoniacal faces, peering over the body of English, whose face, I +thought, formed the only repose in the picture. There were two small +pictures--one of the Saviour, and the other of Kossuth--hung at the head +and feet of the corpse; and the light shed a lurid paleness over the +living and the dead. And detective Fitzgerald and another gentleman +looked in. + +"'Who's here to-night?' says Fitzgerald, in a friendly sort of way. + +"'God love ye, Mr. Fitzgerald, poor English is gone! Indeed, then, it +was the will of the Lord, and He's taken him from us--poor English!' +says Mrs. McCarty. And Fitzgerald, and the gentleman with him, entered +the den, and they shuddered and sat down at the sight of the face in the +coffin. 'Sit down, Mr. Fitzgerald, do!--and may the Lord love ye! There +was a deal of good in poor English. He's gone--so he is!' said Mrs. +McCarty, begging them to sit down, and excuse the disordered state of +her few rags. She had a hard struggle to live, God knows. They took off +their hats, and sat a few minutes in solemn silence. The rags moved at +the gentleman's side, which made him move towards the door. 'What is +there, my good woman?' he inquired. 'She's a blessed child, Mr. +Fitzgerald knows that same:' says Mrs. McCarty, turning down the rags +and revealing the wasted features of her youngest girl, a child eleven +years old, sinking in death. 'God knows she'll be better in heaven, and +herself won't be long out of it,' Mrs. McCarty twice repeated, +maintaining a singular indifference to the hand of death, already upon +the child. The gentleman left some money to buy candles for poor +English, and with Mr. Fitzgerald took himself away. + +"Near midnight, the tall black figure of solemn-faced Father Flaherty +stalked in. He was not pleased with the McCartys, but went to the side +of the dying child, fondled her little wasted hand in his own, and +whispered a prayer for her soul. Never shall I forget how innocently she +looked in his face while he parted the little ringlets that curled over +her brow, and told her she would soon have a better home in a better +world. Then he turned to poor English, and the cross, and the candles, +and the pictures, and the living faces that gave such a ghastliness to +the picture. Mrs. McCarty brought him a basin of water, over which he +muttered, and made it holy. Then he again muttered some unintelligible +sentences, and sprinkled the water over the dying child, over the body +of poor English, and over the living--warning Mrs. McCarty and her +daughters, as he pointed to the coffin. Then he knelt down, and they all +knelt down, and he prayed for the soul of poor English, and left. What +holy water then was left, Mrs. McCarty placed near the door, to keep the +ghosts out. + +"The neighbors at the Blazers took a look in, and a few friends at the +house of the 'Nine Nations' took a look in, and 'Fighting Mary,' of +Murderer's Alley, took a look in, and before Father Flaherty had got +well out of 'Cow Bay,' it got to be thought a trifle of a wake would +console Mrs. McCarty's distracted feelings. 'Hard-fisted Sall' came to +take a last look at poor English; and she said she would spend her last +shilling over poor English, and having one, it would get a drop, and a +drop dropped into the right place would do Mrs. McCarty a deal of good. + +"And Mrs. McCarty agreed that it wouldn't be amiss, and putting with +Sall's shilling the money that was to get the candles, I was sent to the +'Bottomless Pit' at the house of the 'Nine Nations,' where Mr. Crown had +a score with the old woman, and fetched away a quart of his gin, which +they said was getting the whole of them. The McCartys took a drop, and +the girls took a drop, and the neighbors took a drop, and they all kept +taking drops, and the drops got the better of them all. One of the Miss +McCartys got to having words with 'Fighting Mary,' about an old affair +in which poor English was concerned, and the words got to blows, when +Mr. Flanegan at the Blazers stepped in to make peace. But the whole +house got into a fight, and the lights were put out, the corpse knocked +over, and the child (it was found dead in the morning) suffocated with +the weight of bodies felled in the melee. The noise and cries of murder +brought the police rushing in, and most of them were dragged off to the +Station; and the next day being Sunday, I wandered homeless and +friendless into Sheriff street. Poor English was taken in charge by the +officers. They kept him over Monday to see if any one would come up and +claim him. No one came for him; no one knew more of him than that he +went by the name of English; no one ever heard him say where he came +from--he never said a word about my mother, or whether he had a relation +in the world. He was carted off to Potter's Field and buried. That was +the last of poor English. + +"We seldom got much to eat in the Points, and I had not tasted food for +twenty-four hours. I sat down on the steps of a German grocery, and was +soon ordered away by the keeper. Then I wandered into a place they +called Nightmare's Alley, where three old wooden buildings with +broken-down verandas stood, and were inhabited principally by butchers. +I sat down on the steps of one, and thought if I only had a mother, or +some one to care for me, and give me something to eat, how happy I +should be. And I cried. And a great red-faced man came out of the house, +and took me in, and gave me something to eat. His name was Mike +Mullholland, and he was good to me, and I liked him, and took his name. +And he lived with a repulsive looking woman, in a little room he paid +ten dollars a month for. He had two big dogs, and worked at day work, in +a slaughter-house in Staunton street. The dogs were known in the +neighborhood as Mullholland's dogs, and with them I used to sleep on the +rags of carpet spread for us in the room with Mullholland and his wife, +who I got to calling mother. This is how I took the name of Mullholland. +I was glad to leave the Points, and felt as if I had a home. But there +was a 'Bottomless Pit' in Sheriff street, and though not so bad as the +one at the house of the 'Nine Nations,' it gave out a deal of gin that +the Mullhollands had a liking for. I was continually going for it, and +the Mullhollands were continually drinking it; and the whole +neighborhood liked it, and in 'Nightmare's Alley' the undertaker found a +profitable business. + +"In the morning I went with the dogs to the slaughter-house, and there +fed them, and took care of the fighting cocks, and brought gin for the +men who worked there. In the afternoon I joined the newsboys, as ragged +and neglected as myself, gambled for cents, and watched the policemen, +whom we called the Charleys. I lived with Mullholland two years, and saw +and felt enough to make hardened any one of my age. One morning there +came a loud knocking at the door, which was followed by the entrance of +two officers. The dogs had got out and bitten a child, and the officers, +knowing who owned them, had come to arrest Mullholland. We were all +surprised, for the officers recognized in Mullholland and the woman two +old offenders. And while they were dragged off to the Tombs, I was left +to prey upon the world as best I could. Again homeless, I wandered about +with urchins as ragged and destitute as myself. It seemed to me that +everybody viewed me as an object of suspicion, for I sought in vain for +employment that would give me bread and clothing. I wanted to be honest, +and would have lived honest; but I could not make people believe me +honest. And when I told who I was, and where I sheltered myself, I was +ordered away. Everybody judged me by the filthy shreds on my back; +nobody had anything for me to do. + +"I applied at a grocer's, to sweep his store and go errands. When I told +him where I had lived, he shook his head and ordered me away. Knowing I +could fill a place not unknown to me, I applied at a butcher's in Mott +street; but he pointed his knife--which left a wound in my feelings--and +ordered me away. And I was ordered away wherever I went. The doors of +the Chatham theatre looked too fine for me. My ragged condition rebuked +me wherever I went, and for more than a week I slept under a cart that +stood in Mott street. Then Tom Farley found me, and took me with him to +his cellar, in Elizabeth street, where we had what I thought a good bed +of shavings. Tom sold _Heralds_, gambled for cents, and shared with me, +and we got along. Then Tom stole a dog, and the dog got us into a deal +of trouble, which ended with getting us both into the Tombs, where Tom +was locked up. I was again adrift, as we used to call it, and thought of +poor Tom a deal. Every one I met seemed higher up in the world than I +was. But I got into Centre Market, carried baskets, and did what I could +to earn a shilling, and slept in Tom's bed, where there was some nights +fifteen and twenty like myself. + +"One morning, while waiting a job, my feet and hands benumbed with the +cold, a beautiful lady slipped a shilling into my hand and passed on. To +one penniless and hungry, it seemed a deal of money. Necessity had +almost driven me to the sign of the 'Three Martyrs,' to see what the man +of the eagle face would give me on my cap, for they said the man at the +'Three Martyrs' lent money on rags such as I had. I followed the woman, +for there was something so good in the act that I could not resist it. +She entered a fine house in Leonard street. + +"You must now go with me into the den of Hag Zogbaum, in 'Scorpion +Cove;' and 'Scorpion Cove' is in Pell street. Necessity next drove me +there. It is early spring, we will suppose; and being in the Bowery, we +find the streets in its vicinity reeking with putrid matter, hurling +pestilence into the dark dwellings of the unknown poor, and making +thankful the coffin-maker, who in turn thanks a nonundertaking +corporation for the rich harvest. The muck is everywhere deep enough +for hogs and fat aldermen to wallow in, and would serve well the +purposes of a supper-eating corporation, whose chief business it was to +fatten turtles and make Presidents. + +"We have got through the muck of the mucky Bowery. Let us turn to the +left as we ascend the hill from Chatham street, and into a narrow, +winding way, called Doyer's street. Dutch Sophy, then, as now, sits in +all the good nature of her short, fat figure, serving her customers with +ices, at three cents. Her cunning black eyes and cheerful, ruddy face, +enhance the air of pertness that has made her a favorite with her +customers. We will pass the little wooden shop, where Mr. Saunders makes +boots of the latest style, and where old lapstone, with curious framed +spectacles tied over his bleared eyes, has for the last forty years been +seen at the window trimming welts, and mending every one's sole but his +own; we will pass the four story wooden house that the landlord never +paints--that has the little square windows, and the little square door, +and the two little iron hand rails that curl so crabbedly at the ends, +and guard four crabbeder steps that give ingress and egress to its swarm +of poor but honest tenants; we will pass the shop where a short, stylish +sign tells us Mr. Robertson makes bedsteads; and the little, slanting +house a line of yellow letters on a square of black tin tells us is a +select school for young ladies, and the bright, dainty looking house +with the green shutters, where lives Mr. Vredenburg the carpenter, who, +the neighbors say, has got up in the world, and paints his house to show +that he feels above poor folks--and find we have reached the sooty and +gin-reeking grocery of Mr. Korner, who sells the _devil's elixir_ to the +sootier devils that swarm the cellars of his neighbors. The faded blue +letters, on a strip of wood nailed to the bricks over his door, tell us +he is a dealer in 'Imported and other liquors.' Next door to Mr. +Korner's tipsy looking grocery lives Mr. Muffin, the coffin-maker, who +has a large business with the disciples who look in at Korner's. Mrs. +Downey, a decent sort of body, who lives up the alley, and takes +sixpenny lodgers by the dozen, may be seen in great tribulation with her +pet pig, who, every day, much to the annoyance of Mr. Korner, manages to +get out, and into the pool of decaying matter opposite his door, where +he is sure to get stuck, and with his natural propensity, squeals +lustily for assistance. Mrs. Downey, as is her habit, gets distracted; +and having well abused Mr. Korner for his interference in a matter that +can only concern herself and the animal, ventures to her knees in the +mire, and having seized her darling pig by the two ears, does, with the +assistance of a policeman, who kindly takes him by the tail, extricate +his porkship, to the great joy of herself. The animal scampers, +grunting, up the alley, as Mr. Korner, in his shirt sleeves, throws his +broom after him, and the policeman surlily says he wishes it was the +street commissioner. + +"We have made the circle of Doyer's street, and find it fortified on +Pell street, with two decrepit wooden buildings, that the demand for the +'devil's elixir,' has converted into Dutch groceries, their exteriors +presenting the appearance of having withstood a storm of dilapidated +clapboards, broken shutters, red herrings, and onions. Mr. Voss looks +suspiciously through the broken shutters of his Gibraltar, at his +neighbor of the opposite Gibraltar, and is heard to say of his wares +that they are none of the best, and that while he sells sixpence a pint +less, the article is a shilling a pint better. And there the two +Gibraltars stand, apparently infirm, hurling their unerring missiles, +and making wreck of everything in the neighborhood. + +"We have turned down Pell street toward Mott, and on the north side a +light-colored sign, representing a smith in the act of shoeing a horse, +attracts the eye, and tells us the old cavern-like building over which +it swings, is where Mr. Mooney does smithwork and shoeing. And a little +further on, a dash of yellow and white paint on a little sign-board at +the entrance of an alley, guarded on one side by a broken-down shed, and +on the other, by a three-story, narrow, brick building (from the windows +of which trail long water-stains, and from the broken panes a dozen +curious black heads, of as many curious eyed negroes protrude), tells us +somewhat indefinitely, that Mister Mills, white-washer and wall-colorer, +may be found in the neighborhood, which, judging from outward +appearances, stands much in need of this good man's services. Just keep +your eye on the sign of the white-washer and wall-colorer, and passing +up the sickly alley it tells you Mister Mills maybe found in, you will +find yourself (having picked your way over putrid matter, and placed +your perfumed cambric where it will protect your lungs from the +inhalation of pestilential air,) in the cozy area of 'Scorpion Cove.' +Scorpion Cove is bounded at one end by a two-story wooden house, with +two decayed and broken verandas in front, and rickety steps leading here +and there to suspicious looking passages, into which, and out of which a +never-ending platoon of the rising generation crawl and toddle, keep up +a cheap serenade, and like rats, scamper away at the sight of a +stranger; and on the other, by the back of the brick house with the +negro-headed front. At the sides are two broken-down board fences, and +forming a sort of network across the cove, are an innumerable quantity +of unoccupied clothes-lines, which would seem only to serve the +mischievous propensities of young negroes and the rats. There is any +quantity of rubbish in 'Scorpion Cove,' and any amount of +disease-breeding cesspools; but the corporation never heard of 'Scorpion +Cove,' and wouldn't look into it if it had. If you ask me how it came to +be called 'Scorpion Cove,' I will tell you. The brick house at one end +was occupied by negroes; and the progeny of these negroes swarmed over +the cove, and were called scorpions. The old house of the verandas at +the other end, and which had an air of being propped up after a shock of +paralysis, was inhabited by twenty or more families, of the Teutonic +race, whose numerous progeny, called the hedge-hogs, were more than a +match for the scorpions, and with that jealousy of each other which +animates these races did the scorpions and hedge-hogs get at war. In the +morning the scorpions would crawl up through holes in the cellar, +through broken windows, through the trap-doors, down the long stairway +that wound from the second and third stories over the broken pavilion, +and from nobody could tell where--for they came, it seems, from every +rat-hole, and with rolling white eyes, marshalled themselves for battle. +The hedge-hogs mustering in similar strength, and springing up from no +one could tell where, would set upon the scorpions, and after a goodly +amount of wallowing in the mire, pulling hair and wool, scratching faces +and pommeling noses, the scorpions being alternately the victors and +vanquished, the war would end at the appearance of Hag Zogbaum, who, +with her broom, would cause the scorpions to beat a hasty retreat. The +hedge-hogs generally came off victorious, for they were the stronger +race. But the old hedge-hogs got much shattered in time by the +broadsides of the two Gibraltars, which sent them broadside on into the +Tombs. And this passion of the elder hedge-hogs for getting into the +Tombs, caused by degrees a curtailing of the younger hedge-hogs. And +this falling off in the forces of the foe, singularly inspirited the +scorpions, who mustered courage, and after a series of savage battles, +in which there was a notorious amount of wool-pulling, gained the day. +And this is how 'Scorpion Cove' got its name. + +"Hag Zogbaum lived in the cellar of the house with the verandas; and old +Dan Sullivan and the rats had possession of the garret. In the cellar of +this woman, whose trade was the fostering of crime in children as +destitute as myself, there was a bar and a back cellar, where as many as +twenty boys and girls slept on straw and were educated in vice. She took +me into her nursery, and I was glad to get there, for I had no other +place to go. + +"In the morning we were sent out to pilfer, to deceive the credulous, +and to decoy others to the den. Some were instructed by Hag Zogbaum to +affect deaf and dumb, to plead the starving condition of our parents, +to, in a word, enlist the sympathies of the credulous with an hundred +different stories. We were all stimulated by a premium being held out to +the most successful. Some were sent out to steal pieces of iron, brass, +copper, and old junk; and these Hag Zogbaum would sell or give to the +man who kept the junk-shop in Stanton street, known as the rookery at +the corner. (This man lived with Hag Zogbaum.) We returned at night with +our booty, and received our wages in gin or beer. The unsuccessful were +set down as victims of bad luck. Now and then the old woman would call +us a miserable lot of wretches she was pestered to take care of. At one +time there were in this den of wretchedness fifteen girls from seven to +eleven years old, and seven boys under eleven--all being initiated into +the by-ways of vice and crime. Among the girls were Italians, Germans, +Irish, and--shall I say it?--Americans! It was curious to see what means +the old hag would resort to for the purpose of improving their features +after they had arrived at a certain age. She had a purpose in this; and +that purpose sprang from that traffic in depravity caused by the demands +of a depraved society, a theme on her lips continually." + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +A CONTINUATION OF GEORGE MULLHOLLAND'S HISTORY. + + +"Having served well the offices of felons and impostors, Hag Zogbaum +would instruct her girls in the mysteries of licentiousness. When they +reached a certain age, their personal appearance was improved, and one +by one they were passed into the hands of splendidly-dressed ladies, as +we then took them to be, who paid a sum for them to Hag Zogbaum, and +took them away; and that was the last we saw of them. They had no desire +to remain in their miserable abode, and were only too glad to get away +from it. In most cases they were homeless and neglected orphans; and +knowing no better condition, fell easy victims to the snares set for +them. + +"It was in this dark, cavern-like den--in this mysterious caldron of +precocious depravity, rioting unheeded in the very centre of a great +city, whose boasted wealth and civilization it might put to shame, if +indeed it were capable of shame, I first met the child of beauty, Anna +Bonard. Yes!--the Anna Bonard you now see at the house of Madame +Flamingo. At that time she was but seven years old--a child of uncommon +beauty and aptness, of delicate but well-proportioned features, of +middle stature, and a face that care might have made charming beyond +comparison. But vice hardens, corrodes, and gives a false hue to the +features. Anna said she was an orphan. How far this was true I know +not. A mystery shrouded the way in which she fell into the hands of Hag +Zogbaum. Hag Zogbaum said she got her of an apple-woman; and the +apple-woman kept a stand in West street, but never would disclose how +she came by Anna. And Mr. Tom Toddleworth, who was the chronicle of the +Points, and used to look into 'Scorpion Cove' now and then, and inquire +about Anna, as if he had a sort of interest in her, they said knew all +about her. But if he did, he always kept it a secret between himself and +Hag Zogbaum. + +"She was always of a melancholy turn, used to say life was but a burden +to her--that she could see nothing in the future that did not seem dark +and tortuous. The lot into which she was cast of necessity others might +have mistaken for that which she had chosen. It was not. The hard hand +of necessity had forced her into this quicksand of death; the +indifference of a naturally generous community, robbed her of the light +of intelligence, and left her a helpless victim in the hands of this +cultivator of vice. How could she, orphan as she was called, and +unencouraged, come to be a noble and generous-hearted woman? No one +offered her the means to come up and ornament her sex; but tyrannical +society neither forgets her misfortunes nor forgives her errors. Once +seal the death-warrant of a woman's errors, and you have none to come +forward and cancel it; the tomb only removes the seal. Anna took a +liking to me, and was kind to me, and looked to me to protect her. And I +loved her, and our love grew up, and strengthened; and being alike +neglected in the world, our condition served as the strongest means of +cementing our attachment. + +"Hag Zogbaum then sent Anna away to the house up the alley, in Elizabeth +street, where she sent most of her girls when they had reached the age +of eleven and twelve. Hag Zogbaum had many places for her female pupils. +The very best looking always went a while to the house in the alley; the +next best looking were sure to find their way into the hands of Miss +Brown, in Little Water street, and Miss Brown, they said, sold them to +the fairies of the South, who dressed them in velvet and gold; and the +'scrubs,' as the old woman used to call the rest, got, by some +mysterious process, into the hands of Paddy Pie and Tim Branahan, who +kept shantees in Orange street. + +"Anna had been away some time, and Mr. Tom Toddleworth had several times +been seen to look in and inquire for her. Mr. Toddleworth said he had a +ripping bid for her. At that time I was ignorant of its meaning. Harry +Rooney and me were sent to the house in Elizabeth street, one morning, +to bring Anna and another girl home. The house was large, and had an air +of neatness about it that contrasted strangely with the den in 'Scorpion +Cove.' We rang the bell and inquired for the girls, who, after waiting +nearly an hour, were sent down to us, clean and neatly dressed. In Anna +the change was so great, that though I had loved her, and thought of her +day and night during her absence, I scarce recognized her. So glad did +she seem to see me that she burst into tears, flung her arms about my +neck, and kissed me with the fondness of a sister. Then she recounted +with childlike enthusiasm the kind treatment she had received at the +house of Madame Harding (for such it was called), between whom and Hag +Zogbaum there was carried on a species of business I am not inclined to +designate here. Two kind and splendidly-dressed ladies, Anna said, +called to see them nearly every day, and were going to take them away, +that they might live like fairies all the rest of their lives. + +"When we got home, two ladies were waiting at the den. It was not the +first time we had seen them at the den. Anna recognized them as the +ladies she had seen at Madame Harding's. One was the woman who so kindly +gave me the shilling in the market, when I was cold and hungry. A +lengthy whispering took place between Hag Zogbaum and the ladies, and we +were ordered into the back cellar. I knew the whispering was about Anna; +and watching through the boards I heard the Hag say Anna was fourteen +and nothing less, and saw one of the ladies draw from her purse numerous +pieces of gold, which were slipped into her hand. In a few minutes more +I saw poor little Anna follow her up the steps that led into 'Scorpion +Cove.' When we were released Hag was serving ragged and dejected-looking +men with gin and beer. Anna, she said when I inquired, had gone to a +good home in the country. I loved her ardently, and being lonesome was +not content with the statement of the old woman. I could not read, but +had begun to think for myself, and something told me all was not right. +For weeks and months I watched at the house in Leonard street, into +which I had followed the woman who gave me the shilling. But I neither +saw her nor the woman. Elegant carriages, and elegantly-dressed men +drove to and from the door, and passed in and out of the house, and the +house seemed to have a deal of fashionable customers, and that was all I +knew of it then. + +"As I watched one night, a gentleman came out of the house, took me by +the arm and shook me, said I was a loitering vagrant, that he had seen +me before, and having a suspicious look he would order the watch to lock +me up. He inquired where my home was; and when I told him it was in +'Scorpion Cove,' he replied he didn't know where that was. I told him it +wasn't much of a home, and he said I ought to have a better one. It was +all very well to say so; but with me the case was different. That night +I met Tom Farley, who was glad to see me, and told how he got out of the +lock-up, and what he thought of the lock-up, and the jolly old Judge who +sent him to the lock-up, and who he saw in the lock-up, and what +mischief was concocted in the lock-up, and what he got to eat in the +lock-up, and how the lock-up wasn't so bad a place after all. + +"The fact was I was inclined to think the lock-up not so bad a place to +get into, seeing how they gave people something good to eat, and clothes +to wear. Tom and me went into business together. We sold _Heralds_ and +Sunday papers, and made a good thing of it, and shared our earnings, and +got enough to eat and some clothes. I took up my stand in Centre Market, +and Tom took up his at Peck Slip. At night we would meet, count our +earnings, and give them to Mr. Crogan, who kept the cellar in Water +street, where we slept. I left Hag Zogbaum, who we got to calling the +wizard. She got all we could earn or pilfer, and we got nothing for our +backs but a few rags, and unwholesome fish and beer for our bellies. I +thought of Anna day and night; I hoped to meet in Centre Market the +woman who took her away. + +"I said no one ever looked in at the den in 'Scorpion Cove,' but there +was a kind little man, with sharp black eyes, and black hair, and an +earnest olive-colored face, and an earnester manner about him, who used +to look in now and then, talk kindly to us, and tell us he wished he had +a home for us all, and was rich enough to give us all enough to eat. He +hated Hag Zogbaum, and Hag Zogbaum hated him; but we all liked him +because he was kind to us, and used to shake his head, and say he would +do something for us yet. Hag Zogbaum said he was always meddling with +other people's business. At other times a man would come along and throw +tracts in at the gate of the alley. We were ignorant of what they were +intended for, and used to try to sell them at the Gibraltars. Nobody +wanted them, and nobody could read at the den, so Hag Zogbaum lighted +the fire with them, and that was the end of them. + +"Well, I sold papers for nearly two years, and learned to read a little +by so doing, and got up in the world a little; and being what was called +smart, attracted the attention of a printer in Nassau street, who took +me into his office, and did well by me. My mind was bent on getting a +trade. I knew I could do well for myself with a trade to lean upon. Two +years I worked faithfully at the printer's, was approaching manhood, and +with the facilities it afforded me had not failed to improve my mind and +get a tolerable good knowledge of the trade. But the image of Anna, and +the singular manner in which she disappeared, made me unhappy. + +"On my return from dinner one day I met in Broadway the lady who took +Anna away. The past and its trials flashed across my brain, and I turned +and followed her--found that her home was changed to Mercer street, and +this accounted for my fruitless watching in Leonard street. + +"The love of Anna, that had left its embers smouldering in my bosom, +quickened, and seemed to burn with redoubled ardor. It was my first and +only love; the sufferings of our childhood had made it lasting. My very +emotion rose to action as I saw the woman I knew took her away. My +anxiety to know her fate had no bounds. Dressing myself up as +respectably as it was possible with my means, I took advantage of a dark +and stormy night in the month of November to call at the house in Mercer +street, into which I had traced the lady. I rung the bell; a +sumptuously-dressed woman came to the door, which opened into a +gorgeously-decorated hall. She looked at me with an inquiring eye and +disdainful frown, inquired who I was and what I wanted. I confess I was +nervous, for the dazzling splendor of the mansion produced in me a +feeling of awe rather than admiration. I made known my mission as best I +could; the woman said no such person had ever resided there. In that +moment of disappointment I felt like casting myself away in despair. The +associations of Scorpion Cove, of the house of the Nine Nations, of the +Rookery, of Paddy Pie's--or any other den in that desert of death that +engulphs the Points, seemed holding out a solace for the melancholy that +weighed me down. But when I got back into Broadway my resolution gained +strength, and with it I wept over the folly of my thoughts. + +"Led by curiosity, and the air of comfort pervading the well-furnished +room, and the piously-disposed appearance of the persons who passed in +and out, I had several times looked in at the house of the 'Foreign +Missions,' as we used to call it. A man with a good-natured face used to +sit in the chair, and a wise-looking little man in spectacles (the +Secretary) used to sit a bit below him, and a dozen or two +well-disposed persons of both sexes, with sharp and anxious +countenances, used to sit round in a half circle, listening. The +wise-looking man in the spectacles would, on motion of some one present, +read a long report, which was generally made up of a list of donations +and expenditures for getting up a scheme to evangelize the world, and +get Mr. Singleton Spyke off to Antioch. It seemed to me as if a deal of +time and money was expended on Mr. Singleton Spyke, and yet Mr. Spyke +never got off to Antioch. When the man of the spectacles got through +reading the long paper, and the good-natured man in the chair got +through explaining that the heavy amount of twenty-odd thousand dollars +had been judiciously expended for the salary of officers of the society, +and the getting Brothers Spurn and Witherspoon off to enlighten the +heathen, Brother Singleton Spyke's mission would come up. Every one +agreed that there ought to be no delay in getting Brother Spyke off to +Antioch; but a small deficiency always stood in the way. And Brother +Spyke seemed spiked to this deficiency; for notwithstanding Mrs. Slocum, +who was reckoned the strongest-minded woman, and best business-man of +the society, always made speeches in favor of Brother Spyke and his +mission (a special one), he never got off to Antioch. + +"Feeling forlorn, smarting under disappointment, and undecided where to +go after I left the house in Mercer street, I looked in at the house of +the 'Foreign Missions.' Mrs. Slocum, as I had many times before seen +her, was warmly contesting a question concerning Brother Spyke, with the +good-natured man in the chair. It was wrong, she said, so much money +should be expended, and Brother Spyke not got off to Antioch. So leaving +them debating Mr. Spyke's mission to Antioch, I proceeded back to the +house in Mercer street, and inquired for the landlady of the house. The +landlady, the woman that opened the door said, was engaged. The door was +shut in my face, and I turned away more wounded in my feelings than +before. Day and night I contemplated some plan by which to ascertain +Anna's place of abode, her pursuit in life, her wants. When we parted +she could neither write nor read: I had taken writing lessons, by which +I could communicate tolerably well, while my occupation afforded me the +means of improvement. A few weeks passed (I continued to watch the +house), and I recognized her one afternoon, by her black, floating hair, +sitting at a second-story window of the house in Mercer street, her back +toward me. The sight was like electricity on my feelings; a transport of +joy bore away my thoughts. I gazed, and continued to gaze upon the +object, throwing, as it were, new passion into my soul. But it turned, +and there was a changed face, a face more lovely, looking eagerly into a +book. Looking eagerly into a book did not betray one who could not read. +But there was that in my heart that prompted me to look on the favorable +side of the doubt--to try a different expedient in gaining admittance to +the house. When night came, I assumed a dress those who look on +mechanics as vulgar people, would have said became a gentleman; and +approaching the house, gained easy admittance. As I was about entering +the great parlors, a familiar but somewhat changed voice at the top of +the circling stairs that led from the hall caught my ear. I paused, +listened, became entranced with suspense. Again it resounded--again my +heart throbbed with joy. It was Anna's voice, so soft and musical. The +woman who opened the door turned from me, and attempted to hush it. But +Anna seemed indifferent to the admonition, for she tripped buoyantly +down stairs, accompanying a gentleman to the door. I stood before her, a +changed person. Her recognition of me was instantaneous. Her color +changed, her lips quivered, her eyes filled with tears, her very soul +seemed fired with emotions she had no power to resist. 'George +Mullholland!' she exclaimed, throwing her arms about my neck, kissing +me, and burying her head in my bosom, and giving vent to her feelings in +tears and quickened sobs--'how I have thought of you, watched for you, +and hoped for the day when we would meet again and be happy. Oh, George! +George! how changed everything seems since we parted! It seems a long +age, and yet our sufferings, and the fondness for each other that was +created in that suffering, freshens in the mind. Dear, good George--my +protector!' she continued, clinging to me convulsively. I took her in my +arms (the scene created no little excitement in the house) and bore her +away to her chamber, which was chastely furnished, displaying a correct +taste, and otherwise suited to a princess. Having gained her presence of +mind, and become calm, she commenced relating what had occurred since we +parted at Scorpion Cove. I need not relate it at length here, for it was +similar in character to what might be told by a thousand others if they +were not powerless. For months she had been confined to the house, her +love of dress indulged to the furthest extent, her mind polluted and +initiated into the mysteries of refined licentiousness, her personal +appearance scrupulously regarded, and made to serve the object of which +she was a victim in the hands of the hostess, who made her the worse +than slave to a banker of great respectability in Wall street. This +good man and father was well down in the vale of years, had a mansion on +Fifth Avenue, and an interesting and much-beloved family. He was, in +addition, a prominent member of the commercial community; but his +example to those more ready to imitate the errors of men in high +positions, than to improve by the examples of the virtuous poor, was not +what it should be. Though a child of neglect, and schooled to +licentiousness under the very eye of a generous community, her natural +sensibility recoiled at the thought that she was a mere object of prey +to the passions of one she could not love. + +"She resolved to remain in this condition no longer, and escaped to +Savannah with a young man whose acquaintance she had made at the house +in Mercer street. For a time they lived at a respectable hotel, as +husband and wife. But her antecedents got out, and they got notice to +leave. The same fate met them in Charleston, to which city they removed. +Her antecedents seemed to follow her wherever she went, like haunting +spirits seeking her betrayal. She was homeless; and without a home there +was nothing open to her but that vortex of licentiousness the world +seemed pointing her to. Back she went to the house in Mercer street--was +glad to get back; was at least free from the finger of scorn. +Henceforward she associated with various friends, who sought her because +of her transcendent charms. She had cultivated a natural intelligence, +and her manners were such as might have become one in better society. +But her heart's desire was to leave the house. I took her from it; and +for a time I was happy to find that the contaminating weeds of vice had +not overgrown the more sensitive buds of virtue. + +"I provided a small tenement in Centre street, such as my means would +afford, and we started in the world, resolved to live respectably. But +what had maintained me respectably was now found inadequate to the +support of us both. Life in a house of sumptuous vice had rendered Anna +incapable of adapting herself to the extreme of economy now forced upon +us. Anna was taken sick; I was compelled to neglect my work, and was +discharged. Discontent, embarrassment, and poverty resulted. I struggled +to live for six months; but my prospects, my hopes of gaining an honest +living, were gone. I had no money to join the society, and the trade +being dull, could get nothing to do. Fate seemed driving us to the last +stage of distress. One by one our few pieces of furniture, our clothing, +and the few bits of jewelry Anna had presented her at the house in +Mercer street, found their way to the sign of the Three Martyrs. The man +of the eagle face would always lend something on them, and that +something relieved us for the time. I many times thought, as I passed +the house of the Foreign Missions in Centre street, where there was such +an air of comfort, that if Mrs. Abijah Slocum, and the good-natured man +who sat in the chair, and the wise little man in the spectacles, would +condescend to look in at our little place, and instead of always talking +about getting Mr. Singleton Spyke off to Antioch, take pity on our +destitution, what a relief it would be. It would have made more hearts +happy than Mr. Spyke, notwithstanding the high end of his mission, could +have softened in ten years at Antioch. + +"Necessity, not inclination, forced Anna back into the house in Mercer +street, when I became her friend, her transient protector. Her hand was +as ready to bestow as her heart was warm and generous. She gave me +money, and was kind to me; but the degraded character of my position +caused me to despond, to yield myself a victim to insidious vice, to +become the associate of men whose only occupation was that of gambling +and 'roping-in' unsuspecting persons. I was not long in becoming an +efficient in the arts these men practiced on the unwary. We used to meet +at the 'Subterranean,' in Church street, and there concoct our mode of +operations. And from this centre went forth, daily, men who lived by +gambling, larceny, picking pockets, counterfeiting, and passing +counterfeit money. I kept Anna ignorant of my associations. Nevertheless +I was forced to get money, for I found her affections becoming +perverted. At times her manner towards me was cold, and I sought to +change it with money. + +"While thus pursuing a life so precarious and exciting, I used to look +in at the 'Empire,' in Broadway, to see whom I could 'spot,' as we +called it at the 'Subterranean.' And it was here I met poor Tom Swiggs, +distracted and giving himself up to drink, in the fruitless search after +the girl of his love, from whom he had been separated, as he said, by +his mother. He had loved the girl, and the girl returned his love with +all the sincerity and ardor of her soul. But she was poor, and of poor +parents. And as such people were reckoned nothing in Charleston, his +mother locked him up in jail, and she was got out of the way. Tom opened +his heart to me, said foul means had been resorted to, and the girl had +thrown herself away, because, while he was held in close confinement, +falsehoods had been used to make her believe he had abandoned her. To +have her an outcast on his account, to have her leading the life of an +abandoned woman, and that with the more galling belief that he had +forsaken her, was more than he could bear, and he was sinking under the +burden. Instead of making him an object of my criminal profession, his +story so touched my feelings that I became his protector, saw him to his +lodgings in Green street, and ultimately got him on board a vessel bound +to Charleston. + +"Not many weeks after this, I, being moneyless, was the principal of a +plot by which nearly a thousand dollars was got of the old man in Wall +street, who had been Anna's friend; and fearing it might get out, I +induced her to accompany me to Charleston, where she believed I had a +prospect of bettering my condition, quitting my uncertain mode of +living, and becoming a respectable man. Together we put up at the +Charleston Hotel. But necessity again forced me to reveal to her my +circumstances, and the real cause of my leaving New York. Her hopes of +shaking off the taint of her former life seemed blasted; but she bore +the shock with resignation, and removed with me to the house of Madame +Flamingo, where we for a time lived privately. But the Judge sought her +out, followed her with the zeal of a knight, and promised, if she would +forsake me, to be her protector; to provide for her and maintain her +like a lady during her life. What progress he has made in carrying out +his promise you have seen. The English baronet imposed her upon the St. +Cecilia, and the Judge was the first to betray her." + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +IN WHICH THE READER IS INTRODUCED TO MR. ABSALOM McARTHUR. + + +You must know, reader, that King street is our Boulevard of fashion; and +though not the handsomest street in the world, nor the widest, nor the +best paved, nor the most celebrated for fine edifices, we so cherish its +age and dignity that we would not for the world change its provincial +name, or molest one of the hundred old tottering buildings that daily +threaten a dissolution upon its pavement, or permit a wench of doubtful +blood to show her head on the "north sidewalk" during promenade hours. +We are, you see, curiously nice in matters of color, and we should be. +You may not comprehend the necessity for this scrupulous regard to +caste; others do not, so you are not to blame for your ignorance of the +customs of an atmosphere you have only breathed through novels written +by steam. We don't (and you wouldn't) like to have our wives meet our +slightly-colored mistresses. And we are sure you would not like to have +your highly-educated and much-admired daughters meet those cream-colored +material evidences of your folly--called by Northern "fanatics" their +half-sisters! You would not! And your wives, like sensible women, as our +wives and daughters are, would, if by accident they did meet them, never +let you have a bit of sleep until you sent them to old Graspum's +flesh-market, had them sold, and the money put safely into their hands. +We do these things just as you would; and our wives being philosophers, +and very fashionable withal, put the money so got into fine dresses, and +a few weeks' stay at some very select watering-place in the North. If +your wife be very accomplished, (like ours,) and your daughters much +admired for their beauty, (like ours,) they will do as ours did--put +wisely the cash got for their detestable relatives into a journey of +inspection over Europe. So, you see, we keep our fashionable side of +King street; and woe be to the shady mortal that pollutes its bricks! + +Mr. Absalom McArthur lives on the unfashionable side of this street, in +a one-story wooden building, with a cottage roof, covered with thick, +black moss, and having two great bow windows, and a very lean door, +painted black, in front. It is a rummy old house to look at, for the +great bow windows are always ornamented with old hats, which Mr. +McArthur makes supply the place of glass; and the house itself, +notwithstanding it keeps up the dignity of a circular window over the +door, reminds one of that valiant and very notorious characteristic of +the State, for it has, during the last twenty or more years, threatened +(but never done it) to tumble upon the unfashionable pavement, just in +like manner as the State has threatened (but never done it!) to tumble +itself out of our unfashionable Union. We are a great people, you see; +but having the impediment of the Union in the way of displaying our +might, always stand ready to do what we never intended to do. We speak +in that same good-natured sense and metaphor used by our politicians, +(who are become very distinguished in the refined arts of fighting and +whiskey-drinking,) when they call for a rope to put about the neck of +every man not sufficiently stupid to acknowledge himself a secessionist. +We imagine ourselves the gigantic and sublime theatre of chivalry, as we +have a right to do; we raise up heroes of war and statesmanship, +compared with whom your Napoleons, Mirabeaus, and Marats--yes, even your +much-abused Roman orators and Athenian philosophers, sink into mere +insignificance. Nor are we bad imitators of that art displayed by the +Roman soldiers, when they entered the Forum and drenched it with +Senatorial blood! Pardon this digression, reader. + +Of a summer morning you will see McArthur, the old Provincialist, as he +is called, arranging in his great bow windows an innumerable variety of +antique relics, none but a Mrs. Toodles could conceive a want for--such +as broken pots, dog-irons, fenders, saws, toasters, stew-pans, old +muskets, boxing-gloves and foils, and sundry other odds and ends too +numerous to mention. At evening he sits in his door, a clever picture of +a by-gone age, on a venerable old sofa, supported on legs tapering into +feet of lion's paws, and carved in mahogany, all tacked over with +brass-headed nails. Here the old man sits, and sits, and sits, reading +the "Heroes of the Revolution," (the only book he ever reads,) and +seemingly ready at all times to serve the "good wishes" of his +customers, who he will tell you are of the very first families, and very +distinguished! He holds distinguished peoples in high esteem; and +several distinguished persons have no very bad opinion of him, but a +much better one of his very interesting daughter, whose acquaintance +(though not a lady, in the Southern acceptation of the term) they would +not object to making--provided! + +His little shop is lumbered with boxes and barrels, all containing +relics of a by-gone age--such as broken swords, pistols of curious make, +revolutionary hand-saws, planes, cuirasses, broken spurs, blunderbusses, +bowie, scalping, and hunting-knives; all of which he declares our great +men have a use for. Hung on a little post, and over a pair of rather +suspicious-looking buckskin breeches, is a rusty helmet, which he +sincerely believes was worn by a knight of the days of William the +Conqueror. A little counter to the left staggers under a pile of musty +old books and mustier papers, all containing valuable matter relating to +the old Continentals, who, as he has it, were all Carolinians. (Dispute +this, and he will go right into a passion.) Resting like good-natured +policemen against this weary old counter are two sympathetic old +coffins, several second-hand crutches, and a quantity of much-neglected +wooden legs. These Mr. McArthur says are in great demand with our first +families. No one, except Mr. Soloman Snivel, knows better what the +chivalry stand in need of to prop up its declining dignity. His dirty +little shelves, too, are stuffed with those cheap uniforms the State so +grudgingly voted its unwilling volunteers during the Revolution.[1] +Tucked in here and there, at sixes and sevens, are the scarlet and blue +of several suits of cast-off theatrical wardrobe he got of Abbott, and +now loans for a small trifle to Madame Flamingo and the St. Cecilia +Society--the first, when she gives her very seductive _balmasques_; the +second, when distinguished foreigners with titles honor its costume +balls. As for Revolutionary cocked hats, epaulettes, plumes, and +holsters, he has enough to supply and send off, feeling as proud as +peacocks, every General and Colonel in the State--and their name, as +you ought to know, reader, is legion. + +[Footnote 1: See Senator Sumner's speech in Congress on Plantation +manners.] + +The stranger might, indeed, be deceived into the belief that Absalom +McArthur's curiosity shop was capable of furnishing accoutrements for +that noble little army, (standing army we call it!) on which the State +prides itself not a little, and spends no end of money. For ourselves, +(if the reader but permit us,) we have long admired this little Spartan +force, saying all the good things of it our prosy brain could invent, +and in the kindest manner recommending its uniform good character as a +model for our very respectable society to fashion after. Indeed, we +have, in the very best nature of a modern historian, endeavored to +enlighten the barbarian world outside of South Carolina as to the +terrible consequences which might accrue to the Union did this noble +little army assume any other than a standing character. Now that General +Jackson is out of the way, and our plebeian friends over the Savannah, +whom we hold in high esteem, (the Georgians,) kindly consent to let us +go our own road out of the Union, nothing can be more grateful than to +find our wise politicians sincerely believing that when this standing +army, of which other States know so little, shall have become allied +with those mighty men of Beaufort, dire consequences to this young but +very respectable Federal compact will be the result. Having discharged +the duties of a historian, for the benefit of those benighted beings +unfortunate enough to live out of our small but highly-civilized State, +we must return to McArthur. + +He is a little old-maidish about his age, which for the last twenty +years has not got a day more than fifty-four. Being as sensitive of his +veracity as the State is of its dignity, we would not, either by +implication or otherwise, lay an impeachment at his door, but rather +charge the discrepancy to that sin (a treacherous memory) the legal +gentry find so convenient for their purposes when they knock down their +own positions. McArthur stood five feet eight exactly, when young, but +age has made him lean of person, and somewhat bent. His face is long and +corrugated; his expression of countenance singularly serious. A nose, +neither aquiline nor Grecian, but large enough, and long enough, and red +enough at the end, to make both; a sharp and curiously-projecting chin, +that threatens a meeting, at no very distant day, with his nasal organ; +two small, watchful blue eyes deep-set under narrow arches, fringed with +long gray lashes; a deeply-furrowed, but straight and contracted +forehead, and a shaggy red wig, poised upon the crown of his head, and, +reader, if you except the constant working of a heavy, drooping lower +lip, and the diagonal sight with which his eyes are favored, you have +his most prominent features. Fashion he holds in utter contempt, nor has +he the very best opinion in the world of our fashionable tailors, who +are grown so rich that they hold mortgages on the very best plantations +in the State, and offer themselves candidates for the Governorship. +Indeed, Mr. McArthur says, one of these knights of the goose, not long +since, had the pertinacity to imagine himself a great General. And to +show his tenacious adherence to the examples set by the State, he +dresses exactly as his grandfather's great-grandfather used to, in a +blue coat, with small brass buttons, a narrow crimpy collar, and tails +long enough and sharp enough for a clipper-ship's run. The periods when +he provided himself with new suits are so far apart that they formed +special episodes in his history; nevertheless there is always an air of +neatness about him, and he will spend much time arranging a dingy +ruffled shirt, a pair of gray trowsers, a black velvet waistcoat, cut in +the Elizabethan style, and a high, square shirt collar, into which his +head has the appearance of being jammed. This collar he ties with a +much-valued red and yellow Spittlefields, the ends of which flow over +his ruffle. Although the old man would not bring much at the +man-shambles, we set a great deal of store by him, and would not +exchange him for anything in the world but a regiment or two of heroic +secessionists. Indeed we are fully aware that nothing like him exists +beyond the highly perfumed atmosphere of our State. And to many other +curious accomplishments the old man adds that of telling fortunes. The +negroes seriously believe he has a private arrangement with the devil, +of whom he gets his wisdom, and the secret of propitiating the gods. + +Two days have passed since the _emeute_ at the house of the old hostess. +McArthur has promised the young missionary a place for Tom Swiggs, when +he gets out of prison (but no one but his mother seems to have a right +to let him out), and the tall figure of Mister Snivel is seen entering +the little curiosity shop. "I say!--my old hero, has she been here yet?" +inquires Mr. Snivel, the accommodation man. "Nay, good friend," returns +the old man, rising from his sofa, and returning the salutation, "she +has not yet darkened the door." The old man draws the steel-bowed +spectacles from his face, and watches with a patriarchal air any change +that comes over the accommodation man's countenance. "Now, good friend, +if I did but know the plot," pursues the old man. + +"The plot you are not to know! I gave you her history yesterday--that +is, as far as I know it. You must make up the rest. You know how to tell +fortunes, old boy. I need not instruct you. Mind you flatter her beauty, +though--extend on the kindness of the Judge, and be sure you get it in +that it was me who betrayed her at the St. Cecelia. All right old boy, +eh?" and shaking McArthur by the hand warmly, he takes his departure, +bowing himself into the street. The old man says he will be all ready +when she comes. + +Scarcely has the accommodation man passed out of sight when a +sallow-faced stripling makes his appearance, and with that +characteristic effrontery for borrowing and never returning, of the +property-man of a country theatre, "desires" to know if Mr. McArthur +will lend him a skull. + +"A skull!" ejaculates the old man, his bony fingers wandering to his +melancholy lip--"a skull!" and he fusses studiously round the little +cell-like place, looking distrustfully at the property-man, and then +turning an anxious eye towards his piles of rubbish, as if fearing some +plot is on foot to remove them to the infernal regions. + +"You see," interrupts Mr. Property, "we play Hamlet to-night--expect a +crammed house--and our star, being scrupulous of his reputation, as all +small stars are, won't go on for the scene of the grave-digger, without +two skulls--he swears he won't! He raised the very roof of the theatre +this morning, because his name wasn't in bigger type on the bill. And if +we don't give him two skulls and plenty of bones to-night, he +swears--and such swearing as it is!--he'll forfeit the manager, have the +house closed, and come out with a card to the public in the morning. We +are in a fix, you see! The janitor only has one, and he lent us that as +if he didn't want to." + +Mr. McArthur says he sees, and with an air of regained wisdom stops +suddenly, and takes from a shelf a dingy old board, on which is a +dingier paper, bearing curious inscriptions, no one but the old man +himself would have supposed to be a schedule of stock in trade. Such it +is, nevertheless. He rubs his spectacles, places them methodically upon +his face, wipes and wipes the old board with his elbow. "It's here if +it's anywhere!" says the old man, with a sigh. "It comes into my head +that among the rest of my valuables I've Yorick's skull." + +"The very skull we want!" interrupts Property. And the old man quickens +the working of his lower jaw, and continues to rub at the board until he +has brought out the written mystery. "My ancestors were great people," +he mumbles to himself, "great people!" He runs the crusty forefinger of +his right hand up and down the board, adding, "and my customers are all +of the first families, which is some consolation in one's poverty. Ah! I +have it here!" he exclaims, with childlike exultation, frisking his +fingers over the board. "One Yorick's skull--a time-worn, tenantless, +and valuable relic, in which graveyard worms have banqueted more than +once. Yes, young man, presented to my ancestors by the elder Stuarts, +and on that account worth seven skulls, or more." "One Yorick's skull," +is written on the paper, upon which the old man presses firmly his +finger. Then turning to an old box standing in the little fireplace +behind the counter, saying, "it's in here--as my name's Absalom +McArthur, it is," he opens the lid, and draws forth several old military +coats (they have seen revolutionary days! he says, exultingly), numerous +scales of brass, such as are worn on British soldiers' hats, a ponderous +chapeau and epaulets, worn, he insists, by Lord Nelson at the renowned +battle of Trafalgar. He has not opened, he adds, this box for more than +twelve long years. Next he drags forth a military cloak of great weight +and dimensions. "Ah!" he exclaims, with nervous joy, "here's the +identical cloak worn by Lord Cornwallis--how my ancestors used to prize +it." And as he unrolls its great folds there falls upon the floor, to +his great surprise, an old buff-colored silk dress, tied firmly with a +narrow, green ribbon. "Maria! Maria! Maria!" shouts the old man, as if +suddenly seized with a spasm. And his little gray eyes flash with +excitement, as he says--"if here hasn't come to light at last, poor Mag +Munday's dress. God forgive the poor wretch, she's dead and gone, no +doubt." In response to the name of "Maria" there protrudes from a little +door that opens into a passage leading to a back-room, the delicate +figure of a female, with a face of great paleness, overcast by a +thoughtful expression. She has a finely-developed head, intelligent blue +eyes, light auburn hair, and features more interesting than regular. +Indeed, there is more to admire in the peculiar modesty of her demeanor +than in the regularity of her features, as we shall show. "My daughter!" +says the old man, as she nervously advances, her pale hand extended. +"Poor woman! how she would mourn about this old dress; and say it +contained something that might give her a chance in the world," she +rather whispers than speaks, disclosing two rows of small white teeth. +She takes from the old man's hand the package, and disappears. The +anxiety she evinces over the charge discloses the fact that there is +something of deep interest connected with it. + +Mr. McArthur was about to relate how he came by this seemingly +worthless old package, when the property-man, becoming somewhat +restless, and not holding in over high respect the old man's rubbish, as +he called it in his thoughts, commences drawing forth, piece after piece +of the old relics. The old man will not allow this. "There, young man!" +he says, touching him on the elbow, and resuming his labor. At length he +draws forth the dust-tenanted skull, coated on the outer surface with +greasy mould. "There!" he says, with an unrestrained exclamation of joy, +holding up the wasting bone, "this was in its time poor Yorick's skull. +It was such a skull, when Yorick lived! Beneath this filthy remnant of +past greatness (I always think of greatness when I turn to the past), +this empty tenement, once the domain of wisdom, this poor bone, what +thoughts did not come out?" And the old man shakes his head, mutters +inarticulately, and weeps with the simplicity of a child. + +"The Star'll have skulls and bones enough to make up for his want of +talent now--I reckon," interposes the property-man. "But!--I say, +mister, this skull couldn't a bin old Yorick's, you know--" + +"Yorick's!--why not?" interrupts the old man. + +"Because Yorick--Yorick was the King's jester, you see--no nigger; and +no one would think of importing anything but a nigger's skull into +Charleston--" + +"Young man!--if this skull had consciousness; if this had a tongue it +would rebuke thee;" the old man retorts hastily, "for my ancestors knew +Yorick, and Yorick kept up an intimate acquaintance with the ancestors +of the very first families in this State, who were not shoemakers and +milliners, as hath been maliciously charged, but good and pious +Huguenots." To the end that he may convince the unbelieving Thespian of +the truth of his assertion, he commences to rub away the black coating +with the sleeve of his coat, and there, to his infinite delight, is +written, across the crown, in letters of red that stand out as bold as +the State's chivalry--"Alas! poor Yorick." Tears of sympathy trickle +down the old man's cheeks, his eyes sparkle with excitement, and with +womanly accents he mutters: "the days of poetry and chivalry are gone. +It is but a space of time since this good man's wit made Kings and +Princes laugh with joy." + +This skull, and a coral pin, which he said was presented to his +ancestors by Lord Cornwallis, who they captured, now became his hobby; +and he referred to it in all his conversation, and made them as much his +idol as our politicians do secession. In this instance, he dare not +entrust his newly-discovered jewel to the vulgar hands of Mr. Property, +but pledged his honor--a ware the State deals largely in notwithstanding +it has become exceedingly cheap--it would be forthcoming at the +requisite time. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +IN WHICH ARE MATTERS THE READER MAY HAVE ANTICIPATED. + + +Mr. Soloman Snivel has effected a reconciliation between old Judge +Sleepyhorn and the beautiful Anna Bonard, and he has flattered the +weak-minded George Mullholland into a belief that the old Judge, as he +styles him, is his very best friend. So matters go on swimmingly at the +house of Madame Flamingo. Indeed Mr. Soloman can make himself extremely +useful in any affair requiring the exercise of nice diplomatic skill--no +matter whether it be of love or law. He gets people into debt, and out +of debt; into bankruptcy and out of bankruptcy; into jail and out of +jail; into society and out of society. He has officiated in almost every +capacity but that of a sexton. If you want money, Mr. Soloman can always +arrange the little matter for you. If you have old negroes you want to +get off your hands at a low figure, he has a customer. If you want to +mortgage your negro property, a thing not uncommon with our very first +families, Mr. Soloman is your man. Are you worth a fee, and want legal +advice, he will give it exactly to your liking. Indeed, he will lie you +into the most hopeless suit, and with equal pertinacity lie you out of +the very best. Every judge is his friend and most intimate acquaintance. +He is always rollicking, frisking, and insinuating himself into +something, affects to be the most liberal sort of a companion, never +refuses to drink when invited, but never invites any one unless he has a +motive beyond friendship. Mr. Keepum, the wealthy lottery broker, who +lives over the way, in Broad street, in the house with the mysterious +signs, is his money-man. This Keepum, the man with the sharp visage and +guilty countenance, has an excellent standing in society, having got it +as the reward of killing two men. Neither of these deeds of heroism, +however, were the result of a duel. Between these worthies there exists +relations mutually profitable, if not the most honorable. And +notwithstanding Mr. Soloman is forever sounding Mr. Keepum's generosity, +the said Keepum has a singular faculty for holding with a firm grasp all +he gets, the extent of his charities being a small mite now and then to +Mr. Hadger, the very pious agent for the New York Presbyterian Tract +Society. Mr. Hadger, who by trading in things called negroes, and such +like wares, has become a man of great means, twice every year badgers +the community in behalf of this society, and chuckles over what he gets +of Keepum, as if a knave's money was a sure panacea for the cure of +souls saved through the medium of those highly respectable tracts the +society publishes to suit the tastes of the god slavery. Mr. Keepum, +too, has a very high opinion of this excellent society, as he calls it, +and never fails to boast of his contributions. + +It is night. The serene and bright sky is hung with brighter stars. Our +little fashionable world has got itself arrayed in its best satin--and +is in a flutter. Carriages, with servants in snobby coats, beset the +doors of the theatre. A flashing of silks, satins, brocades, tulle and +jewelry, distinguished the throng pressing eagerly into the lobbies, +and seeking with more confusion than grace seats in the dress circle. +The orchestra has played an overture, and the house presents a lively +picture of bright-colored robes. Mr. Snivel's handsome figure is seen +looming out of a private box in the left-hand proceniums, behind the +curtain of which, and on the opposite side, a mysterious hand every now +and then frisks, makes a small but prudent opening, and disappears. +Again it appears, with delicate and chastely-jeweled fingers. Cautiously +the red curtain moves aside apace, and the dark languishing eyes of a +female, scanning over the dress-circle, are revealed. She recognizes the +venerable figure of Judge Sleepyhorn, who has made a companion of George +Mullholland, and sits at his side in the parquette. Timidly she closes +the curtain. + +In the right-hand procenium box sits, resplendent of jewels and laces, +and surrounded by her many admirers, the beautiful and very fashionable +Madame Montford, a woman of singularly regular features, and more than +ordinary charms. Opinion is somewhat divided on the early history of +Madame Montford. Some have it one thing, some another. Society is sure +to slander a woman of transcendent beauty and intellect. There is +nothing in the world more natural, especially when those charms attract +fashionable admirers. It is equally true, too, that if you would wipe +out any little taint that may hang about the skirts of your character +you must seek the panacea in a distant State, where, with the +application of a little diplomacy you may become the much sought for +wonder of a new atmosphere and new friends, as is the case with Madame +Montford, who rebukes her New York neighbors of the Fifth Avenue (she +has a princely mansion there), with the fact that in Charleston she is, +whenever she visits it, the all-absorbing topic with fashionable +society. For four successive winters Madame Montford has honored the +elite of Charleston with her presence. The advent of her coming, too, +has been duly heralded in the morning papers--to the infinite delight of +the St. Cecilia Society, which never fails to distinguish her arrival +with a ball. And this ball is sure to be preceded with no end of +delicately-perfumed cards, and other missives, as full of compliments as +it is capable of cramming them. There is, notwithstanding all these +ovations in honor of her coming, a mystery hanging over her periodical +visits, for the sharp-eyed persist that they have seen her disguised, +and in suspicious places, making singular inquiries about a woman of the +name of Mag Munday. And these suspicions have given rise to whisperings, +and these whisperings have crept into the ears of several very old and +highly-respectable "first families," which said families have suddenly +dropped her acquaintance. But what is more noticeable in the features of +Madame Montford, is the striking similarity between them and Anna +Bonard's. Her most fervent admirers have noticed it; while strangers +have not failed to discover it, and to comment upon it. And the girl who +sits in the box with Mr. Snivel, so cautiously fortifying herself with +the curtain, is none other than Anna. Mr. Snivel has brought her here as +an atonement for past injuries. + +Just as the curtain is about to rise, Mr. McArthur, true to his word, +may be seen toddling to the stage door, his treasure carefully tied up +in a handkerchief. He will deliver it to no one but the manager, and in +spite of his other duties that functionary is compelled to receive it in +person. This done, the old man, to the merriment of certain wags who +delight to speculate on his childlike credulity, takes a seat in the +parquette, wipes clean his venerable spectacles, and placing them +methodically over his eyes, forms a unique picture in the foreground of +the audience. McArthur, with the aid of his glasses, can recognize +objects at a distance; and as the Hamlet of the night is decidedly +Teutonic in his appearance and pronunciation, he has no great relish for +the Star, nor a hand of applause to bestow on his genius. Hamlet, he is +sure, never articulated with a coarse brogue. So turning from the stage, +he amuses himself with minutely scanning the faces of the audience, and +resolving in his mind that something will turn up in the grave-digger's +scene, of which he is an enthusiastic admirer. It is, indeed, he thinks +to himself, very doubtful, whether in this wide world the much-abused +William Shakspeare hath a more ardent admirer of this curious but +faithful illustration of his genius. Suddenly his attention seems +riveted on the private box, in which sits the stately figure of Madame +Montford, flanked in a half-circle by her perfumed and white-gloved +admirers. "What!" exclaims the old man, in surprise, rubbing and +replacing his glasses, "if I'm not deceived! Well--I can't be. If there +isn't the very woman, a little altered, who has several times looked +into my little place of an evening. Her questions were so curious that I +couldn't make out what she really wanted (she never bought anything); +but she always ended with inquiring about poor Mag Munday. People think +because I have all sorts of things, that I must know about all sorts of +things. I never could tell her much that satisfied her, for Mag, report +had it, was carried off by the yellow fever, and nobody ever thought of +her afterwards. And because I couldn't tell this woman any more, she +would go away with tears in her eyes." Mr. McArthur whispers to a friend +on his right, and touches him on the arm, "Pooh! pooh!" returns the man, +with measured indifference, "that's the reigning belle of the +season--Madame Montford, the buxom widow, who has been just turned forty +for some years." + +The play proceeds, and soon the old man's attention is drawn from the +Widow Montford by the near approach to the scene of the grave-digger. +And as that delineator enters the grave, and commences his tune, the old +man's anxiety increases. + +A twitching and shrugging of the shoulders, discovers Mr. McArthur's +feelings. The grave-digger, to the great delight of the Star, bespreads +the stage with a multiplicity of bones. Then he follows them with a +skull, the appearance of which causes Mr. McArthur to exclaim, "Ah! +that's my poor Yorick." He rises from his seat, and abstractedly stares +at the Star, then at the audience. The audience gives out a spontaneous +burst of applause, which the Teutonic Hamlet is inclined to regard as an +indignity offered to superior talent. A short pause and his face +brightens with a smile, the grave-digger shoulders his pick, and with +the thumb of his right hand to his nasal organ, throws himself into a +comical attitude. The audience roar with delight; the Star, ignorant of +the cause of what he esteems a continued insult, waves his plumes to the +audience, and with an air of contempt walks off the stage. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +MRS. SWIGGS COMES TO THE RESCUE OF THE HOUSE OF THE FOREIGN MISSIONS. + + +"An excellent society--excellent, I assure you, Madame--" + +"Truly, Mr. Hadger," interrupted Mrs. Swiggs, "your labors on behalf of +this Tract Society will be rewarded in heaven--" + +"Dear-a-me," Mr. Hadger returns, ere Mrs. Swiggs can finish her +sentence, "don't mention such a thing. I assure you it is a labor of +love." + +"Their tracts are so carefully got up. If my poor old negro property +could only read--(Mrs. Swiggs pauses.) I was going to say--if it wasn't +for the law (again she pauses), we couldn't prejudice our cause by +letting our negroes read them--" + +"Excuse the interruption," Mr. Hadger says, "but it wouldn't, do, +notwithstanding (no one can be more liberal than myself on the subject +of enlightening our negro property!) the Tract Society exhibits such an +unexceptionable regard to the requirements of our cherished +institution." + +This conversation passes between Mrs. Swiggs and Mr. Hadger, who, as he +says with great urbanity of manner, just dropped in to announce joyous +tidings. He has a letter from Sister Abijah Slocum, which came to hand +this morning, enclosing one delicately enveloped for Sister Swiggs. +"The Lord is our guide," says Mrs. Swiggs, hastily reaching out her hand +and receiving the letter. "Heaven will reward her for the interest she +takes in the heathen world." + +"Truly, if she hath not now, she will have there a monument of gold," +Mr. Hadger piously pursues, adding a sigh. + +"There! there!--my neuralgy; it's all down my left side. I'm not long +for this world, you see!" Mrs. Swiggs breaks out suddenly, then twitches +her head and oscillates her chin. And as if some electric current had +changed the train of her thoughts, she testily seizes hold of her +Milton, and says: "I have got my Tom up again--yes I have, Mr. Hadger." + +Mr. Hadger discovers the sudden flight her thoughts have taken: "I am +sure," he interposes, "that so long as Sister Slocum remains a member of +the Tract Society we may continue our patronage." + +Mrs. Swiggs is pleased to remind Mr. Hadger, that although her means +have been exceedingly narrowed down, she has not, for the last ten +years, failed to give her mite, which she divides between the house of +the "Foreign Missions," and the "Tract Society." + +A nice, smooth-faced man, somewhat clerically dressed, straight and +portly of person, and most unexceptionable in his morals, is Mr. Hadger. +A smile of Christian resignation and brotherly love happily ornaments +his countenance; and then, there is something venerable about his +nicely-combed gray whiskers, his white cravat, his snowy hair, his mild +brown eyes, and his pleasing voice. One is almost constrained to receive +him as the ideal of virtue absolved in sackcloth and ashes. As an +evidence of our generosity, we regard him an excellent Christian, whose +life hath been purified with an immense traffic in human----(perhaps +some good friend will crack our skull for saying it). + +In truth (though we never could find a solution in the Bible for it), as +the traffic in human property increased Mr. Hadger's riches, so also did +it in a corresponding ratio increase his piety. There is, indeed, a +singular connection existing between piety and slavery; but to analyze +it properly requires the mind of a philosopher, so strange is the +blending. + +Brother Hadger takes a sup of ice-water, and commences reading Sister +Slocum's letter, which runs thus: + + "NEW YORK, May --, 1850. +"DEAR BROTHER HADGER: + +"Justice and Mercy is the motto of the cause we have lent our hands and +hearts to promote. Only yesterday we had a gathering of kind spirits at +the Mission House in Centre street, where, thank God, all was peace and +love. We had, too, an anxious gathering at the 'Tract Society's rooms.' +There it was not so much peace and love as could have been desired. +Brother Bight seemed earnest, but said many unwise things; and Brother +Scratch let out some very unwise indiscretions which you will find in +the reports I send. There was some excitement, and something said about +what we got from the South not being of God's chosen earnings. And there +was something more let off by our indiscreet Brothers against the +getting up of the tracts. But we had a majority, and voted down our +indiscreet Brothers, inasmuch as it was shown to be necessary not to +offend our good friends in the South. Not to give offence to a Brother +is good in the sight of the Lord, and this Brother Primrose argued in a +most Christian speech of four long hours or more, and which had the +effect of convincing every one how necessary it was to free the _tracts_ +of everything offensive to your cherished institution. And though we did +not, Brother Hadger, break up in the continuance of that love we were +wont to when you were among us, we sustained the principle that seemeth +most acceptable to you--we gained the victory over our disaffected +Brothers. And I am desired on behalf of the Society, to thank you for +the handsome remittance, hoping you will make it known, through peace +and love, to those who kindly contributed toward it. The Board of +'Foreign Missions,' as you will see by the report, also passed a vote of +thanks for your favor. How grateful to think what one will do to +enlighten the heathen world, and how many will receive a tract through +the medium of the other. + +"We are now in want of a few thousand dollars, to get the Rev. Singleton +Spyke, a most excellent person, off to Antioch. Aid us with a mite, +Brother Hadger, for his mission is one of God's own. The enclosed letter +is an appeal to Sister Swiggs, whose yearly mites have gone far, very +far, to aid us in the good but mighty work now to be done. Sister Swiggs +will have her reward in heaven for these her good gifts. How thankful +should she be to Him who provides all things, and thus enableth her to +bestow liberally. + +"And now, Brother, I must say adieu! May you continue to live in the +spirit of Christian love. And may you never feel the want of these mites +bestowed in the cause of the poor heathen. + + "SISTER ABIJAH SLOCUM." + +"May the good be comforted!" ejaculates Mrs. Swiggs, as Mr. Hadger +concludes. She has listened with absorbed attention to every word, at +times bowing, and adding a word of approval. Mr. Hadger hopes something +may be done in this good cause, and having interchanged sundry +compliments, takes his departure, old Rebecca opening the door. + +"Glad he's gone!" the old lady says to herself. "I am so anxious to hear +the good tidings Sister Slocum's letter conveys." She wipes and wipes +her venerable spectacles, adjusts them piquantly over her small, wicked +eyes, gives her elaborate cap-border a twitch forward, frets her finger +nervously over the letter, and gets herself into a general state of +confritteration. "There!" she says, entirely forgetting her Milton, +which has fallen on the floor, to the great satisfaction of the worthy +old cat, who makes manifest his regard for it by coiling himself down +beside it, "God bless her. It makes my heart leap with joy when I see +her writing," she pursues, as old Rebecca stands contemplating her, with +serious and sullen countenance. Having prilled and fussed over the +letter, she commences reading in a half whisper: + + "NO. --,4TH AVENUE, NEW YORK, + May --, 1850. + +"MUCH BELOVED SISTER: + +"I am, as you know, always overwhelmed with business; and having hoped +the Lord in his goodness yet spares you to us, and gives you health and +bounty wherewith to do good, must be pardoned for my brevity. The Lord +prospers our missions among the heathen, and the Tract Society continues +to make its labors known throughout the country. It, as you will see by +the tracts I send herewith, still continues that scrupulous regard to +the character of your domestic institution which has hitherto +characterized it. Nothing is permitted to creep into them that in any +way relates to your domestics, or that can give pain to the delicate +sensibilities of your very excellent and generous people. We would do +good to all without giving pain to any one. Oh! Sister, you know what a +wicked world this is, and how it becomes us to labor for the good of +others. But what is this world compared with the darkness of the heathen +world, and those poor wretches ('Sure enough!' says Mrs. Swiggs) who eat +one another, never have heard of a God, and prefer rather to worship +idols of wood and stone. When I contemplate this dreadful darkness, +which I do night and day, day and night, I invoke the Spirit to give me +renewed strength to go forward in the good work of bringing from +darkness ('Just as I feel,' thinks Mrs. Swiggs) unto light those poor +benighted wretches of the heathen world. How often I have wished you +could be here with us, to add life and spirit to our cause--to aid us in +beating down Satan, and when we have got him down not to let him up. The +heathen world never will be what it should be until Satan is bankrupt, +deprived of his arts, and chained to the post of humiliation--never! ('I +wish I had him where my Tom is!' Mrs. Swiggs mutters to herself.) Do +come on here, Sister. We will give you an excellent reception, and make +you so happy while you sojourn among us. And now, Sister, having never +appealed to you in vain, we again extend our hand, hoping you will favor +the several very excellent projects we now have on hand. First, we have +a project--a very excellent one, on hand, for evangelizing the world; +second, in consideration of what has been done in the reign of the +Seven Churches--Pergamos Thyatira, Magnesia, Cassaba, Demish, and +Baindir, where all is darkness, we have conceived a mission to Antioch; +and third, we have been earnestly engaged in, and have spent a few +thousand dollars over a project of the 'Tract Society,' which is the +getting up of no less than one or two million of their excellent tracts, +for the Dahomy field of missionary labor--such as the Egba mission, the +Yoruba mission, and the Ijebu missions. Oh! Sister, what a field of +labor is here open to us. And what a source of joy and thankfulness it +should be to us that we have the means to labor in those fields of +darkness. We have selected brother Singleton Spyke, a young man of great +promise, for this all-important mission to Antioch. He has been for the +last four years growing in grace and wisdom. No expense has been spared +in everything necessary to his perfection, not even in the selection of +a partner suited to his prospects and future happiness. We now want a +few thousand dollars to make up the sum requisite to his mission, and +pay the expenses of getting him off. Come to our assistance, dear +Sister--do come! Share with us your mite in this great work of +enlightening the heathen, and know that your deeds are recorded in +heaven. ('Verily!' says the old lady.) And now, hoping the Giver of all +good will continue to favor you with His blessing, and preserve you in +that strength of intellect with which you have so often assisted us in +beating down Satan, and hoping either to have the pleasure of seeing +you, or hearing from you soon, I will say adieu! subscribing myself a +servant in the cause of the heathen, and your sincere Sister, + + "MRS. ABIJAH SLOCUM. + +"P.S.--Remember, dear Sister, that the amount of money expended in +idol-worship--in erecting monster temples and keeping them in repair, +would provide comfortable homes and missions for hundreds of our very +excellent young men and women, who are now ready to buckle on the armor +and enter the fight against Satan. + + "A.S." + +"Dear-a-me," she sighs, laying the letter upon the table, kicking the +cat as she resumes her rocking, and with her right hand restoring her +Milton to its accustomed place on the table. "Rebecca," she says, "will +get a pillow and place it nicely at my back." Rebecca, the old slave, +brings the pillow. "There, there! now, not too high, nor too low, +Rebecca!" her thin, sharp voice echoes, as she works her shoulders, and +permits her long fingers to wander over her cap-border. "When 'um got +just so missus like, say--da he is!" mumbles the old negress in reply. +"Well, well--a little that side, now--" The negress moves the pillow a +little to the left. "That's too much, Rebecca--a slight touch the other +way. You are so stupid, I will have to sell you, and get Jewel to take +care of me. I would have done it before but for the noise of her +crutch--I would, Rebecca! You never think of me--you only think of how +much hominy you can eat." The old negress makes a motion to move the +pillow a little to the right, when Mrs. Swiggs settles her head and +shoulders into it, saying, "there!" + +"Glad'um suit--fo'h true!" retorts the negress, her heavy lips and +sullen face giving out the very incarnation of hatred. + +"Now don't make a noise when you go out." Rebecca in reply says she is +"gwine down to da kitchen to see Isaac," and toddles out of the room, +gently closing the door after her. + +Resignedly Mrs. Swiggs closes her eyes, moderates her rocking, and +commences evolving and revolving the subject over in her mind. "I +haven't much of this world's goods--no, I haven't; but I'm of a good +family, and its name for hospitality must be kept up. Don't see that I +can keep it up better than by helping Sister Slocum and the _Tract +Society_ out," she muses. But the exact way to effect this has not yet +come clear to her mind. Times are rather hard, and, as we have said +before, she is in straightened circumstances, having, for something more +than ten years, had nothing but the earnings of eleven old negroes, five +of whom are cripples, to keep up the dignity of the house of the Swiggs. +"There's old Zeff," she says, "has took to drinking, and Flame, his +wife, ain't a bit better; and neither one of them have been worth +anything since I sold their two children--which I had to do, or let the +dignity of the family suffer. I don't like to do it, but I must. I must +send Zeff to the workhouse--have him nicely whipped, I only charge him +eighteen dollars a month for himself, and yet he will drink, and won't +pay over his wages. Yes!--he shall have it. The extent of the law, well +laid on, will learn him a lesson. There's old Cato pays me twenty +dollars a month, and Cato's seventy-four--four years older than Zeff. In +truth, my negro property is all getting careless about paying wages. Old +Trot runs away whenever he can get a chance; Brutus has forever got +something the matter with him; and Cicero has come to be a real skulk. +He don't care for the cowhide; the more I get him flogged the worse he +gets. Curious creature! And his old woman, since she broke her leg, and +goes with a crutch, thinks she can do just as she pleases. There is +plenty of work in her--plenty; she has no disposition to let it come +out, though! And she has kept up a grumbling ever since I sold her +girls. Well, I didn't want to keep them all the time at the +whipping-post; so I sold them to save their characters." Thus Mrs. +Swiggs muses until she drops into a profound sleep, in which she +remains, dreaming that she has sold old Mumma Molly, Cicero's wife, and +with the proceeds finds herself in New York, hob-nobbing it with Sister +Slocum, and making one extensive donation to the Tract Society, and +another to the fund for getting Brother Singleton Spyke off to Antioch. +Her arrival in Gotham, she dreams, is a great event. The Tract Society +(she is its guest) is smothering her with its attentions. Indeed, a +whole column and a half of the very conservative and highly respectable +old _Observer_ is taken up with an elaborate and well-written history of +her many virtues. + +The venerable old lady dreams herself into dusky evening, and wakes to +find old Rebecca summoning her to tea. She is exceedingly sorry the old +slave disturbed her. However, having great faith in dreams, and the one +she has just enjoyed bringing the way to aid Sister Slocum in carrying +out her projects of love so clear to her mind, she is resolved to lose +no time in carrying out its principles. Selling old Molly won't be much; +old Molly is not worth much to her; and the price of old Molly (she'll +bring something!) will do so much to enlighten the heathen, and aid the +Tract Society in giving out its excellent works. "And I have for years +longed to see Sister Slocum, face to face, before I die," she says. And +with an affixed determination to carry out this pious resolve, Mrs. +Swiggs sips her tea, and retires to her dingy little chamber for the +night. + +A bright and cheerful sun ushers in the following morning. The soft rays +steal in at the snuffy door, at the dilapidated windows, through the +faded curtains, and into the "best parlor," where, at an early hour, +sits the antique old lady, rummaging over some musty old papers piled on +the centre-table. The pale light plays over and gives to her features a +spectre-like hue; while the grotesque pieces of furniture by which she +is surrounded lend their aid in making complete the picture of a +wizard's abode. The paper she wants is nowhere to be found. "I must +exercise a little judgment in this affair," she mutters, folding a bit +of paper, and seizing her pen. Having written-- + +"TO THE MASTER OF THE WORK-HOUSE: + +"I am sorry I have to trouble you so often with old Cicero. He will not +pay wages all I can do. Give him at least thirty--well laid on. I go to +New York in a few days, and what is due you from me for punishments will +be paid any time you send your bill. + + "SARAH PRINGLE HUGHES SWIGGS." + +"Well! he deserves what he gets," she shakes her head and ejaculates. +Having summoned Rebecca, Master Cicero, a hard-featured old negro, is +ordered up, and comes tottering into the room, half-bent with age, his +hair silvered, and his face covered with a mossy-white beard--the +picture of a patriarch carved in ebony. "Good mornin', Missus," he +speaks in a feeble and husky voice, standing hesitatingly before his +august owner. "You are--well, I might as well say it--you're a +miserable old wretch!" Cicero makes a nervous motion with his left hand, +as the fingers of his right wander over the bald crown of his head, and +his eyes give out a forlorn look. She has no pity for the poor old +man--none. "You are, Cicero--you needn't pretend you ain't," she +pursues; and springing to her feet with an incredible nimbleness, she +advances to the window, tucks up the old curtain, and says, "There; let +the light reflect on your face. Badness looks out of it, Cicero! you +never was a good nigger--" + +"Per'aps not, Missus; but den I'se old." + +"Old! you ain't so old but you can pay wages," the testy old woman +interrupts, tossing her head. "You're a capital hand at cunning excuses. +This will get you done for, at the workhouse." She hands him a +delicately enveloped and carefully superscribed _billet_, and commands +him to proceed forthwith to the workhouse. A tear courses slowly down +his time-wrinkled face, he hesitates, would speak one word in his own +defence. But the word of his owner is absolute, and in obedience to the +wave of her hand he totters to the door, and disappears. His tears are +only those of a slave. How useless fall the tears of him who has no +voice, no power to assert his manhood! And yet, in that shrunken +bosom--in that figure, bent and shattered of age, there burns a passion +for liberty and hatred of the oppressor more terrible than the hand that +has made him the wretch he is. That tear! how forcibly it tells the tale +of his sorrowing soul; how eloquently it foretells the downfall of that +injustice holding him in its fierce chains! + +Cicero has been nicely got out of the way. Molly, his wife, is summoned +into the presence of her mistress, to receive her awful doom. "To be +frank with you, Molly, and I am always outspoken, you know, I am going +to sell you. We have been long enough together, and necessity at this +moment forces me to this conclusion," says our venerable lady, +addressing herself to the old slave, who stands before her, leaning on +her crutch, for she is one of the cripples. "You will get a pious owner, +I trust; and God will be merciful to you." + +The old slave of seventy years replies only with an expression of hate +in her countenance, and a drooping of her heavy lip. "Now," Mrs. Swiggs +pursues, "take this letter, go straight to Mr. Forcheu with it, and he +will sell you. He is very kind in selling old people--very!" Molly +inquires if Cicero may go. Mrs. Swiggs replies that nobody will buy two +old people together. + +The slave of seventy years, knowing her entreaties will be in vain, +approaches her mistress with the fervency of a child, and grasping +warmly her hand, stammers out: "Da--da--dah Lord bless um, Missus. Tan't +many days fo'h we meet in t'oder world--good-bye." + +"God bless you--good-bye, Molly. Remember what I have told you so many +times--long suffering and forbearance make the true Christian. Be a +Christian--seek to serve your Master faithfully; such the Scripture +teacheth. Now tie your handkerchief nicely on your head, and get your +clean apron on, and mind to look good-natured when Mr. Forcheu sells +you." This admonition, methodically addressed to the old slave, and Mrs. +Swiggs waves her hand, resumes her Milton, and settles herself back into +her chair. Reader! if you have a heart in the right place it will be +needless for us to dwell upon the feelings of that old slave, as she +drags her infirm body to the shambles of the extremely kind vender of +people. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +MR. McARTHUR MAKES A DISCOVERY. + + +On his return from the theatre, Mr. McArthur finds his daughter, Maria, +waiting him in great anxiety. "Father, father!" she says, as he enters +his little back parlor, "this is what that poor woman, Mag Munday, used +to take on so about; here it is." She advances, her countenance wearing +an air of great solicitude, holds the old dress in her left hand, and a +stained letter in her right. "It fell from a pocket in the bosom," she +pursues. The old man, with an expression of surprise, takes the letter +and prepares to read it. He pauses. "Did it come from the dress I +discovered in the old chest?" he inquires, adjusting his spectacles. +Maria says it did. She has no doubt it might have relieved her +suffering, if it had been found before she died. "But, father, was there +not to you something strange, something mysterious about the manner she +pursued her search for this old dress? You remember how she used to +insist that it contained something that might be a fortune to her in her +distress, and how there was a history connected with it that would not +reflect much credit on a lady in high life!" + +The old man interrupts by saying he well remembers it; remembers how he +thought she was a maniac to set so much value on the old dress, and make +so many sighs when it could not be found. "It always occurred to me +there was something more than the dress that made her take on so," the +old man concludes, returning the letter to Maria, with a request that +she will read it. Maria resumes her seat, the old man draws a chair to +the table, and with his face supported in his left hand listens +attentively as she reads: + + "WASHINGTON SQUARE, NEW YORK, + May 14, 18-- + +"I am glad to hear from Mr. Sildon that the child does well. Poor little +thing, it gives me so many unhappy thoughts when I think of it; but I +know you are a good woman, Mrs. Munday, and will watch her with the care +of a mother. She was left at our door one night, and as people are +always too ready to give currency to scandal, my brother and I thought +that it would not be prudent to adopt it at once, more especially as I +have been ill for the last few months, and have any quantity of enemies. +I am going to close my house, now that my deceased husband's estate is +settled, and spend a few years in Europe. Mr. Thomas Sildon is well +provided with funds for the care of the child during my absence, and +will pay you a hundred dollars every quarter. Let no one see this +letter, not even your husband. And when I return I will give you an +extra remuneration, and adopt the child as my own. Mr. Sildon will tell +you where to find me when I return." + + Your friend, + "C.A.M." + +"There, father," says Maria, "there is something more than we know +about, connected with this letter. One thing always discovers +another--don't you think it may have something to do with that lady who +has two or three times come in here, and always appeared so nervous +when she inquired about Mag Munday? and you recollect how she would not +be content until we had told her a thousand different things concerning +her. She wanted, she said, a clue to her; but she never could get a clue +to her. There is something more than we know of connected with this +letter," and she lays the old damp stained and crumpled letter on the +table, as the old servant enters bearing on a small tray their humble +supper. + +"Now, sit up, my daughter," says the old man, helping her to a sandwich +while she pours out his dish of tea, "our enjoyment need be none the +less because our fare is humble. As for satisfying this lady about Mag +Munday, why, I have given that up. I told her all I knew, and that is, +that when she first came to Charleston--one never knows what these New +Yorkers are--she was a dashing sort of woman, had no end of admirers, +and lived in fine style. Then it got out that she wasn't the wife of the +man who came with her, but that she was the wife of a poor man of the +name of Munday, and had quit her husband; as wives will when they take a +notion in their heads. And as is always the way with these sort of +people, she kept gradually getting down in the world, and as she kept +getting more and more down so she took more and more to drink, and drink +brought on grief, and grief soon wasted her into the grave. I took pity +on her, for she seemed not a bad woman at heart, and always said she was +forced by necessity into the house of Madame Flamingo--a house that +hurries many a poor creature to her ruin. And she seemed possessed of a +sense of honor not common to these people; and when Madame Flamingo +turned her into the street,--as she does every one she has succeeded in +making a wretch of,--and she could find no one to take her in, and had +nowhere to lay her poor head, as she used to say, I used to lend her +little amounts, which she always managed somehow to repay. As to there +being anything valuable in the dress, I never gave it a thought; and +when she would say if she could have restored to her the dress, and +manage to get money enough to get to New York, I thought it was only the +result of her sadness." + +"You may remember, father," interrupts Maria, "she twice spoke of a +child left in her charge; and that the child was got away from her. If +she could only trace that poor child, she would say, or find out what +had become of it, she could forget her own sufferings and die easy. But +the thought of what had become of that child forever haunted her; she +knew that unless she atoned in some way the devil would surely get her." +The old man says, setting down his cup, it all comes fresh to his mind. +Mr. Soloman (he has not a doubt) could let some light upon the subject; +and, as he seems acquainted with the lady that takes so much interest in +what became of the woman Munday, he may relieve her search. "I am sure +she is dead, nevertheless; I say this, knowing that having no home she +got upon the Neck, and then associated with the negroes; and the last I +heard of her was that the fever carried her off. This must have been +true, or else she had been back here pleading for the bundles we could +not find." Thus saying, Mr. McArthur finishes his humble supper, kisses +and fondles his daughter, whom he dotingly loves, and retires for the +night. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +WHAT MADAME FLAMINGO WANTS TO BE. + + +Tom Swiggs has enjoyed, to the evident satisfaction of his mother, a +seven months' residence in the old prison. The very first families +continue to pay their respects to the good old lady, and she in return +daily honors them with mementoes of her remembrance. These little +civilities, exchanging between the stately old lady and our first +families, indicate the approach of the fashionable season. Indeed, we +may as well tell you the fashionable season is commencing in right good +earnest. Our elite are at home, speculations are rife as to what the +"Jockey Club" will do, we are recounting our adventures at northern +watering-places, chuckling over our heroism in putting down those who +were unwise enough to speak disrespectful of our cherished institutions, +and making very light of what we would do to the whole north. You may +know, too, that our fashionable season is commenced by what is taking +place at the house of Madame Flamingo on the one side, and the St. +Cecilia on the other. We recognize these establishments as institutions. +That they form the great fortifications of fashionable society, flanking +it at either extreme, no one here doubts. + +We are extremely sensitive of two things--fashion, and our right to sell +negroes. Without the former we should be at sea; without the latter, our +existence would indeed be humble. The St. Cecilia Society inaugurates +the fashionable season, the erudite Editor of the Courier will tell +you, with an entertainment given to the elite of its members and a few +very distinguished foreigners. Madame Flamingo opens her forts, at the +same time, with a grand supper, which she styles a very select +entertainment, and to which she invites none but "those of the highest +standing in society." If you would like to see what sort of a supper she +sets to inaugurate the fashionable season, take our arm for a few +minutes. + +Having just arrived from New York, where she has been luxuriating and +selecting her wares for the coming season, (New York is the fountain +ejecting its vice over this Union,) Madame looks hale, hearty, and +exceedingly cheerful. Nor has she spared any expense to make herself up +with becoming youthfulness--as the common people have it. She has got +her a lace cap of the latest fashion, with great broad striped blue and +red strings; and her dress is of orange-colored brocade, trimmed with +tulle, and looped with white blossoms. Down the stomacher it is set with +jewels. Her figure seems more embonpoint than when we last saw her; and +as she leans on the arm of old Judge Sleepyhorn, forms a striking +contrast to the slender figure of that singular specimen of judicial +infirmity. Two great doors are opened, and Madame leads the way into +what she calls her upper and private parlor, a hall of some fifty feet +by thirty, in the centre of which a sumptuously decorated table is set +out. Indeed there is a chasteness and richness about the furniture and +works of art that decorate this apartment, singularly at variance with +the bright-colored furniture of the room we have described in a former +chapter. "Ladies and gentlemen!" ejaculates the old hostess, "imagine +this a palace, in which you are all welcome. As the legal gentry say +(she casts a glance at the old Judge), when you have satisfactorily +imagined that, imagine me a princess, and address me--" + +"High ho!" interrupts Mr. Soloman. + +"I confess," continues the old woman, her little, light-brown curls +dangling across her brow, and her face crimsoning, "I would like to be a +princess." + +"You can," rejoins the former speaker, his fingers wandering to his +chin. + +"Well! I have my beadle--beadles, I take, are inseparable from royal +blood--and my servants in liveries. After all (she tosses her head) what +can there be in beadles and liveries? Why! the commonest and vulgarest +people of New York have taken to liveries. If you chance to take an +elegant drive up the 'Fifth Avenue,' and meet a dashing equipage--say +with horses terribly caparisoned, a purloined crest on the +carriage-door, a sallow-faced footman covered up in a green coat, all +over big brass buttons, stuck up behind, and a whiskey-faced coachman +half-asleep in a great hammercloth, be sure it belongs to some snob who +has not a sentence of good English in his head. Yes! perhaps a +soap-chandler, an oil-dealer, or a candy-maker. Brainless people always +creep into plush--always! People of taste and learning, like me, only +are entitled to liveries and crests." This Madame says, inviting her +guests to take seats at her banquet-table, at the head of which she +stands, the Judge on her right, Mr. Soloman on her left. Her china is of +the most elaborate description, embossed and gilt; her plate is of pure +silver, and massive; she has vases and candelabras of the same metal; +and her cutlery is of the most costly description. No house in the +country can boast a more exact taste in their selection. At each plate +a silver holder stands, bearing a bouquet of delicately-arranged +flowers. A trellise of choice flowers, interspersed here and there with +gorgeous bouquets in porcelain vases, range along the centre of the +table; which presents the appearance of a bed of fresh flowers +variegated with delicious fruits. Her guests are to her choicer than her +fruits; her fruits are choicer than her female wares. No entertainment +of this kind would be complete without Judge Sleepyhorn and Mr. Soloman. +They countenance vice in its most insidious form--they foster crime; +without crime their trade would be damaged. The one cultivates, that the +other may reap the harvest and maintain his office. + +"I see," says Mr. Soloman, in reply to the old hostess, "not the +slightest objection to your being a princess--not the slightest! And, to +be frank about the matter, I know of no one who would better ornament +the position." + +"Your compliments are too liberally bestowed, Mr. Soloman." + +"Not at all! 'Pon my honor, now, there is a chance for you to bring that +thing about in a very short time. There is Grouski, the Polish exile, a +prince of pure blood. Grouski is poor, wants to get back to Europe. He +wants a wife, too. Grouski is a high old fellow--a most celebrated man, +fought like a hero for the freedom of his country; and though an exile +here, would be received with all the honors due to a prince in either +Italy, France or England. + +"A very respectable gentleman, no doubt; but a prince of pure blood, Mr. +Soloman, is rather a scarce article these days." + +"Not a bit of it--why there is lots of exiled Princes all over this +country. They are modest men, you know, like me; and having got it into +their heads that we don't like royal blood, rather keep the fact of +their birth to themselves. As for Grouski! why his history is as +familiar to every American who takes any interest in these things, as is +the history of poor Kossuth. I only say this, Madame Flamingo, to prove +to you that Grouski is none of your mock articles. And what is more, I +have several times heard him speak most enthusiastically of you." + +"Of me!" interrupts the old hostess, blushing. "I respect Grouski, and +the more so for his being a poor prince in exile." Madame orders her +servants, who are screwed into bright liveries, to bring on some +sparkling Moselle. This done, and the glasses filled with the sparkling +beverage, Mr. Soloman rises to propose a toast; although, as he says, it +is somewhat out of place, two rounds having only succeeded the soup: "I +propose the health of our generous host, to whom we owe so much for the +superb manner in which she has catered for our amusement. Here's that we +may speedily have the pleasure of paying our respects to her as the +Princess Grouski." Madame Flamingo bows, the toast is drunk with cheers, +and she begins to think there is something in it after all. + +"Make as light of it as you please, ladies and gentlemen--many stranger +things have come to pass. As for the exile, Grouski, I always esteemed +him a very excellent gentleman." + +"Exactly!" interposes the Judge, tipping his glass, and preparing his +appetite for the course of game--broiled partridges, rice-birds, and +grouse--which is being served by the waiters. "No one more worthy," he +pursues, wiping his sleepy face with his napkin, "of being a princess. +Education, wealth, and taste, you have; and with Grouski, there is +nothing to prevent the happy consummation--nothing! I beg to assure +you," Madame Flamingo makes a most courteous bow, and with an air of +great dignity condescends to say she hopes gentlemen of the highest +standing in Charleston have for ten years or more had the strongest +proofs of her ability to administer the offices of a lady of station. +"But you know," she pursues, hoping ladies and gentlemen will be kind +enough to keep their glasses full, "people are become so pious +now-a-days that they are foolish enough to attach a stigma to our +business." + +"Pooh, pooh!" interrupts the accommodation man, having raised his glass +in compliment to a painted harlot. "Once in Europe, and under the shadow +of the wife of Prince Grouski, the past would be wiped out; your money +would win admirers, while your being a princess would make fashionable +society your tool. The very atmosphere of princesses is full of taint; +but it is sunk in the rank, and rather increases courtiers. In France +your untainted princess would prognosticate the second coming of--, +well, I will not profane." + +"Do not, I beg of you," says Madame, blushing. "I am scrupulously +opposed to profanity." And then there breaks upon the ear music that +seems floating from an enchanted chamber, so soft and dulcet does it +mingle with the coarse laughing and coarser wit of the banqueters. At +this feast of flowers may be seen the man high in office, the grave +merchant, the man entrusted with the most important affairs of the +commonwealth--the sage and the charlatan. Sallow-faced and painted +women, more undressed than dressed, sit beside them, hale companions. +Respectable society regards the Judge a fine old gentleman; respectable +society embraces Mr. Soloman, notwithstanding he carries on a business, +as we shall show, that brings misery upon hundreds. Twice has he +received a large vote as candidate for the General Assembly. + +A little removed from the old Judge (excellent man) sits Anna Bonard, +like a jewel among stones less brilliant, George Mullholland on her +left. Her countenance wears an expression of gentleness, sweet and +touching. Her silky black hair rolls in wavy folds down her voluptuous +shoulders, a fresh carnatic flush suffuses her cheeks, her great black +eyes, so beautifully arched with heavy lashes, flash incessantly, and to +her bewitching charms is added a pensive smile that now lights up her +features, then subsides into melancholy. + +"What think you of my statuary?" inquired the old hostess, "and my +antiques? Have I not taste enough for a princess?" How soft the carpet, +how rich its colors! Those marble mantel-pieces, sculptured in female +figures, how massive! How elegantly they set off each end of the hall, +as we shall call this room; and how sturdily they bear up statuettes, +delicately executed in alabaster and Parian, of Byron, Goethe, Napoleon, +and Charlemagne--two on each. And there, standing between two Gothic +windows on the front of the hall, is an antique side-table, of curious +design. The windows are draped with curtains of rich purple satin, with +embroidered cornice skirts and heavy tassels. On this antique table, and +between the undulating curtains, is a marble statue of a female in a +reclining posture, her right hand supporting her head, her dishevelled +hair flowing down her shoulder. The features are soft, calm, and almost +grand. It is simplicity sleeping, Madame Flamingo says. On the opposite +side of the hall are pedestals of black walnut, with mouldings in gilt, +on which stand busts of Washington and Lafayette, as if they were +unwilling spectators of the revelry. A venerable recline, that may have +had a place in the propylaea, or served to decorate the halls of +Versailles in the days of Napoleon, has here a place beneath the +portrait of Jefferson. This humble tribute the old hostess says she pays +to democracy. And at each end of the hall are double alcoves, over the +arches of which are great spread eagles, holding in their beaks the +points of massive maroon-colored drapery that falls over the sides, +forming brilliant depressions. In these alcoves are groups of figures +and statuettes, and parts of statuettes, legless and armless, and all +presenting a rude and mutilated condition. What some of them represented +it would have puzzled the ancient Greeks to decypher. Madame, +nevertheless, assures her guests she got them from among the relics of +Italian and Grecian antiquity. You may do justice to her taste on living +statuary; but her rude and decrepit wares, like those owned and so much +valued by our New York patrons of the arts, you may set down as +belonging to a less antique age of art. And there are chairs inlaid with +mosaic and pearl, and upholstered with the richest and brightest satin +damask,--revealing, however, that uncouthness of taste so characteristic +of your Fifth Avenue aristocrat. + +Now cast your eye upward to the ceiling. It is frescoed with themes of a +barbaric age. The finely-outlined figure of a female adorns the centre. +Her loins are enveloped in what seems a mist; and in her right hand, +looking as if it were raised from the groundwork, she holds gracefully +the bulb of a massive chandelier, from the jets of which a refulgent +light is reflected upon the flowery banquet table. Madame smilingly says +it is the Goddess of Love, an exact copy of the one in the temple of +Jupiter Olympus. Another just opposite, less voluptuous in its outlines, +she adds, is intended for a copy of the fabled goddess, supposed by the +ancients to have thrown off her wings to illustrate the uncertainty of +fortune. + +Course follows course, of viands the most delicious, and sumptuously +served. The wine cup now flows freely, the walls reecho the coarse jokes +and coarser laughs of the banqueters, and leaden eyelids, languid faces, +and reeling brains, mark the closing scene. Such is the gorgeous vice we +worship, such the revelries we sanction, such the insidious debaucheries +we shield with the mantle of our laws--laws made for the accommodation +of the rich, for the punishment only of the poor. And a thousand poor in +our midst suffer for bread while justice sleeps. + +Midnight is upon the banqueters, the music strikes up a last march, the +staggering company retire to the stifled air of resplendent chambers. +The old hostess contemplates herself as a princess, and seriously +believes an alliance with Grouski would not be the strangest thing in +the world. There is, however, one among the banqueters who seems to have +something deeper at heart than the transitory offerings on the +table--one whose countenance at times assumes a thoughtfulness +singularly at variance with those around her. It is Anna Bonard. + +Only to-day did George Mullholland reveal to her the almost hopeless +condition of poor Tom Swiggs, still confined in the prison, with +criminals for associates, and starving. She had met Tom when fortune was +less ruthless; he had twice befriended her while in New York. Moved by +that sympathy for the suffering which is ever the purest offspring of +woman's heart, no matter how low her condition, she resolved not to rest +until she had devised the means of his release. Her influence over the +subtle-minded old Judge she well knew, nor was she ignorant of the +relations existing between him and the accommodation man. + +On the conclusion of the feast she invites them to her chamber. They are +not slow to accept the invitation. "Be seated, gentlemen, be seated," +she says, preserving a calmness of manner not congenial to the feelings +of either of her guests. She places chairs for them at the round table, +upon the marble top of which an inlaid portfolio lies open. + +"Rather conventional," stammers Mr. Snivel, touching the Judge +significantly on the arm, as they take seats. Mr. Snivel is fond of good +wine, and good wine has so mellowed his constitution that he is obliged +to seek support for his head in his hands. + +"I'd like a little light on this 'ere plot. Peers thar's somethin' a +foot," responds the Judge. + +Anna interposes by saying they shall know quick enough. Placing a pen +and inkstand on the table, she takes her seat opposite them, and +commences watching their declining consciousness. "Thar," ejaculates the +old Judge, his moody face becoming dark and sullen, "let us have the +wish." + +"You owe me an atonement, and you can discharge it by gratifying my +desire." + +"Women," interposes the old Judge, dreamily, "always have wishes to +gratify. W-o-l, if its teu sign a warrant, hang a nigger, tar and +feather an abolitionist, ride the British Consul out a town, or send a +dozen vagrants to the whipping-post--I'm thar. Anything my hand's in +at!" incoherently mumbles this judicial dignitary. + +Mr. Snivel having reminded the Judge that ten o'clock to-morrow morning +is the time appointed for meeting Splitwood, the "nigger broker," who +furnishes capital with which they start a new paper for the new party, +drops away into a refreshing sleep, his head on the marble. + +"Grant me, as a favor, an order for the release of poor Tom Swiggs. You +cannot deny me this, Judge," says Anna, with an arch smile, and pausing +for a reply. + +"Wol, as to that," responds this high functionary, "if I'd power, +'twouldn't be long afore I'd dew it, though his mother'd turn the town +upside down; but I hain't no power in the premises. I make it a rule, on +and off the bench, never to refuse the request of a pretty woman. +Chivalry, you know." + +"For your compliment, Judge, I thank you. The granting my request, +however, would be more grateful to my feelings." + +"It speaks well of your heart, my dear girl; but, you see, I'm only a +Judge. Mr. Snivel, here, probably committed him ('Snivel! here, wake +up!' he says, shaking him violently), he commits everybody. Being a +Justice of the Peace, you see, and justices of the peace being +everything here, I may prevail on him to grant your request!" pursues +the Judge, brightening up at the earnest manner in which Anna makes her +appeal. "Snivel! Snivel!--Justice Snivel, come, wake up. Thar is a call +for your sarvices." The Judge continues to shake the higher functionary +violently. Mr. Snivel with a modest snore rouses from his nap, says he +is always ready to do a bit of a good turn. "If you are, then," +interposes the fair girl, "let it be made known now. Grant me an order +of release for Tom Swiggs. Remember what will be the consequence of a +refusal!" + +"Tom Swiggs! Tom Swiggs!--why I've made a deal of fees of that fellow. +But, viewing it in either a judicial or philosophical light, he's quite +as well where he is. They don't give them much to eat in jail I admit, +but it is a great place for straightening the morals of a rum-head like +Tom. And he has got down so low that all the justices in the city +couldn't make him fit for respectable society." Mr. Snivel yawns and +stretches his arms athwart. + +"But you can grant me the order independent of what respectable society +will do." + +Mr. Snivel replies, bowing, a pretty woman is more than a match for the +whole judiciary. He will make a good amount of fees out of Tom yet; and +what his testy old mother declines to pay, he will charge to the State, +as the law gives him a right to do. + +"Then I am to understand!" quickly retorts Anna, rising from her chair, +with an expression of contempt on her countenance, and a satirical curl +on her lip, "you have no true regard for me then; your friendship is +that of the knave, who has nothing to give after his ends are served. I +will leave you!" The Judge takes her gently by the arm; indignantly she +pushes him from her, as her great black eyes flash with passion, and she +seeks for the door. Mr. Snivel has placed himself against it, begs she +will be calm. "Why," he says, "get into a passion at that which was but +a joke." The Judge touches him on the arm significantly, and whispers +in his ear, "grant her the order--grant it, for peace sake, Justice +Snivel." + +"Now, if you will tell me why you take so deep an interest in getting +them fellows out of prison, I will grant the order of release," Mr. +Snivel says, and with an air of great gallantry leads her back to her +chair. + +"None but friendship for one who served me when he had it in his power." + +"I see! I see!" interrupts our gallant justice; "the renewal of an old +acquaintance; you are to play the part of Don Quixote,--he, the +mistress. It's well enough there should be a change in the knights, and +that the stripling who goes about in the garb of the clergy, and has +been puzzling his wits how to get Tom out of prison for the last six +months--" + +"Your trades never agree;" parenthesises Anna. + +"Should yield the lance to you." + +"Who better able to wield it in this chivalrous atmosphere? It only +pains my own feelings to confess myself an abandoned woman; but I have a +consolation in knowing how powerful an abandoned woman may be in +Charleston." + +An admonition from the old Judge, and Mr. Snivel draws his chair to the +table, upon which he places his left elbow, rests his head on his hand. +"This fellow will get out; his mother--I have pledged my honor to keep +him fast locked up--will find it out, and there'll be a fuss among our +first families," he whispers. Anna pledges him her honor, a thing she +never betrays, that the secret of Tom's release shall be a matter of +strict confidence. And having shook hands over it, Mr. Snivel seizes the +pen and writes an order of release, commanding the jailer to set at +liberty one Tom Swiggs, committed as a vagrant upon a justice's warrant, +&c., &c., &c. "There," says Justice Snivel, "the thing is done--now for +a kiss;" and the fair girl permits him to kiss her brow. "Me too; the +bench and the bar!" rejoins the Judge, following the example of his +junior. And with an air of triumph the victorious girl bears away what +at this moment she values a prize. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +IN WHICH TOM SWIGGS GAINS HIS LIBERTY, AND WHAT BEFALLS HIM. + + +Anna gives George Mullholland the letter of release, and on the +succeeding morning he is seen entering at the iron gate of the wall that +encloses the old prison. "Bread! give me bread," greets his ear as soon +as he enters the sombre old pile. He walks through the debtors' floor, +startles as he hears the stifled cry for bread, and contemplates with +pained feelings the wasting forms and sickly faces that everywhere meet +his eye. The same piercing cry grates upon his senses as he sallies +along the damp, narrow aisle of the second floor, lined on both sides +with small, filthy cells, in which are incarcerated men whose crime is +that of having committed "assault and battery," and British seamen +innocent of all crime except that of having a colored skin. If anything +less than a gentleman commit assault and battery, we punish him with +imprisonment; we have no law to punish gentlemen who commit such +offences. + +Along the felon's aisle--in the malarious cells where "poor" murderers +and burglars are chained to die of the poisonous atmosphere, the same +cry tells its mournful tale. Look into the dark vista of this little +passage, and you will see the gleaming of flabby arms and shrunken +hands. Glance into the apertures out of which they protrude so +appealingly, you will hear the dull clank of chains, see the glare of +vacant eyes, and shudder at the pale, cadaverous faces of beings +tortured with starvation. A low, hoarse whisper, asks you for bread; a +listless countenance quickens at your footfall. Oh! could you but feel +the emotion that has touched that shrunken form which so despondingly +waits the coming of a messenger of mercy. That system of cruelty to +prisoners which so disgraced England during the last century, and which +for her name she would were erased from her history, we preserve here in +all its hideousness. The Governor knows nothing, and cares nothing about +the prison; the Attorney-General never darkens its doors; the public +scarce give a thought for those within its walls--and to one man, Mr. +Hardscrabble, is the fate of these wretched beings entrusted. And so +prone has become the appetite of man to speculate on the misfortunes of +his fellow-man, that this good man, as we shall call him, tortures thus +the miserable beings entrusted to his keeping, and makes it a means of +getting rich. Pardon, reader, this digression. + +George, elated with the idea of setting Tom at liberty, found the young +theologian at the prison, and revealed to him the fact that he had got +the much-desired order. To the latter this seemed strange--not that such +a person as George could have succeeded in what he had tried in vain to +effect, but that there was a mystery about it. It is but justice to say +that the young theologian had for six months used every exertion in his +power, without avail, to procure an order of release. He had appealed to +the Attorney-General, who declared himself powerless, but referred him +to the Governor. The Governor could take no action in the premises, and +referred him to the Judge of the Sessions. The Judge of the Sessions +doubted his capacity to interfere, and advised a petition to the Clerk +of the Court. The Clerk of the Court, who invariably took it upon +himself to correct the judge's dictum, decided that the judge could not +interfere, the case being a committal by a Justice of the Peace, and not +having been before the sessions. And against these high +functionaries--the Governor, Attorney-General, Judge of the Sessions, +and Clerk of the Court, was Mr. Soloman and Mrs. Swiggs all-powerful. +There was, however, another power superior to all, and that we have +described in the previous chapter. + +Accompanied by the brusque old jailer, George and the young theologian +make their way to the cell in which Tom is confined. + +"Hallo! Tom," exclaims George, as he enters the cell, "boarding at the +expense of the State yet, eh?" Tom lay stretched on a blanket in one +corner of the cell, his faithful old friend, the sailor, watching over +him with the solicitude of a brother. "I don't know how he'd got on if +it hadn't bin for the old sailor, yonder," says the jailer, pointing to +Spunyarn, who is crouched down at the great black fireplace, blowing the +coals under a small pan. "He took to Tom when he first came in, and +hasn't left him for a day. He'll steal to supply Tom's hunger, and fight +if a prisoner attempts to impose upon his charge. He has rigged him out, +you see, with his pea-coat and overalls," continues the man, folding his +arms. + +"I am sorry, Tom--" + +"Yes," says Tom, interrupting the young theologian, "I know you are. You +don't find me to have kept my word; and because I haven't you don't find +me improved much. I can't get out; and if I can't get out, what's the +use of my trying to improve? I don't say this because I don't want to +improve. I have no one living who ought to care for me, but my mother. +And she has shown what she cares for me." + +"Everything is well. (The young theologian takes Tom by the hand.) We +have got your release. You are a free man, now." + +"My release!" exclaims the poor outcast, starting to his feet, "my +release?" + +"Yes," kindly interposes the jailer, "you may go, Tom. Stone walls, +bolts and chains have no further use for you." The announcement brings +tears to his eyes; he cannot find words to give utterance to his +emotions. He drops the young theologian's hand, grasps warmly that of +George Mullholland, and says, the tears falling fast down his cheeks, +"now I will be a new man." + +"God bless Tom," rejoins the old sailor, who has left the fireplace and +joined in the excitement of the moment. "I alwas sed there war better +weather ahead, Tom." He pats him encouragingly on the shoulder, and +turns to the bystanders, continuing with a childlike frankness: "he's +alwas complained with himself about breaking his word and honor with +you, sir--" + +The young theologian says the temptation was more than he could +withstand. + +"Yes sir!--that was it. He, poor fellow, wasn't to blame. One brought +him in a drop, and challenged him; then another brought him in a drop, +and challenged him; and the vote-cribber would get generous now and +then, and bring him a drop, saying how he would like to crib him if he +was only out, on the general election coming on, and make him take a +drop of what he called election whiskey. And you know, sir, it's hard +for a body to stand up against all these things, specially when a body's +bin disappointed in love. It's bin a hard up and down with him. To-day +he would make a bit of good weather, and to-morrow he'd be all up in a +hurricane." And the old sailor takes a fresh quid of tobacco, wipes +Tom's face, gets the brush and fusses over him, and tells him to cheer +up, now that he has got his clearance. + +"Tom would know if his mother ordered it." + +"No! she must not know that you are at large," rejoins George. + +"Not that I am at large?" + +"I have," interposes the young theologian, "provided a place for you. We +have a home for you, a snug little place at the house of old McArthur--" + +"Old McArthur," interpolates Tom, smiling, "I'm not a curiosity." + +George Mullholland says he may make love to Maria, that she will once +more be a sister. Touched by the kindly act on his behalf, Tom replies +saying she was always kind to him, watched over him when no one else +would, and sought with tender counsels to effect his reform, to make him +forget his troubles. + +"Thank you!--my heart thanks you more forcibly than my tongue can. I +feel a man. I won't touch drink again: no I won't. You won't find me +breaking my honor this time. A sick at heart man, like me, has no power +to buffet disappointment. I was a wretch, and like a wretch without a +mother's sympathy, found relief only in drinks--" + +"And such drinks!" interposes the old sailor, shrugging his shoulders. +"Good weather, and a cheer up, now and then, from a friend, would have +saved him." + +Now there appears in the doorway, the stalworth figure of the +vote-cribber, who, with sullen face, advances mechanically toward Tom, +pauses and regards him with an air of suspicion. "You are not what you +ought to be, Tom," he says, doggedly, and turns to the young Missionary. +"Parson," he continues, "this 'ere pupil of yourn's a hard un. He isn't +fit for respectable society. Like a sponge, he soaks up all the whiskey +in jail." The young man turns upon him a look more of pity than scorn, +while the jailer shakes his head admonishingly. The vote-cribber +continues insensible to the admonition. He, be it known, is a character +of no small importance in the political world. Having a sort of sympathy +for the old jail he views his transient residences therein rather +necessary than otherwise. As a leading character is necessary to every +grade of society, so also does he plume himself the aristocrat of the +prison. Persons committed for any other than offences against the +election laws, he holds in utter contempt. Indeed, he says with a good +deal of truth, that as fighting is become the all necessary +qualification of our Senators and Representatives to Congress, he thinks +of offering himself for the next vacancy. The only rival he fears is +"handsome Charley."[2] The accommodations are not what they might be, +but, being exempt from rent and other items necessary to a prominent +politician, he accepts them as a matter of economy. + +[Footnote 2: An election bully, the ugliest man in Charleston, and the +deadly foe of Mingle.] + +The vote-cribber is sure of being set free on the approach of an +election. We may as well confess it before the world--he is an +indispensable adjunct to the creating, of Legislators, Mayors, +Congressmen, and Governors. Whiskey is not more necessary to the +reputation of our mob-politicians than are the physical powers of Milman +Mingle to the success of the party he honors with his services. Nor do +his friends scruple at consulting him on matters of great importance to +the State while in his prison sanctuary. + +"I'm out to-morrow, parson," he resumes; the massive fingers of his +right hand wandering into his crispy, red beard, and again over his +scarred face. "Mayor's election comes off two weeks from +Friday--couldn't do without me--can knock down any quantity of men--you +throw a plumper, I take it?" The young Missionary answers in the +negative by shaking his head, while the kind old sailor continues to +fuss over and prepare Tom for his departure. "Tom is about to leave us," +says the old sailor, by way of diverting the vote-cribber's attention. +That dignitary, so much esteemed by our fine old statesmen, turns to +Tom, and inquires if he has a vote. + +Tom has a vote, but declares he will not give it to the vote-cribber's +party. The politician says "p'raps," and draws from his bosom a small +flask. "Whiskey, Tom," he says,--"no use offering it to parsons, eh? (he +casts an insinuating look at the parson.) First-chop election whiskey--a +sup and we're friends until I get you safe under the lock of my crib. +Our Senators to Congress patronize this largely." The forlorn freeman, +with a look of contempt for the man who thus upbraids him, dashes the +drug upon the floor, to the evident chagrin of the politician, who, to +conceal his feelings, turns to George Mulholland, and mechanically +inquires if _he_ has a vote. Being answered in the negative, he picks up +his flask and walks away, saying: "what rubbish!" + +Accompanied by his friends and the old sailor, Tom sallies forth into +the atmosphere of sweet freedom. As the old jailer swings back the outer +gate, Spunyarn grasps his friend and companion in sorrow warmly by the +hand, his bronzed face brightens with an air of satisfaction, and like +pure water gushing from the rude rock his eyes fill with tears. How +honest, how touching, how pure the friendly lisp--good bye! "Keep up a +strong heart, Tom,--never mind me. I don't know by what right I'm kept +here, and starved; but I expect to get out one of these days; and when I +do you may reckon on me as your friend. Keep the craft in good trim till +then; don't let the devil get master. Come and see us now and then, and +above all, never give up the ship during a storm." Tom's emotions are +too deeply touched. He has no reply to make, but presses in silence the +hand of the old sailor, takes his departure, and turns to wave him an +adieu. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + +IN WHICH THERE IS AN INTERESTING MEETING. + + +Our very chivalric dealers in human merchandise, like philosophers and +philanthropists, are composed merely of flesh and blood, while their +theories are alike influenced by circumstances. Those of the first, we +(the South) are, at times, too apt to regard as sublimated and refined, +while we hold the practices of the latter such as divest human nature of +everything congenial. Nevertheless we can assure our readers that there +does not exist a class of men who so much pride themselves on their +chivalry as some of our opulent slave-dealers. Did we want proof to +sustain what we have said we could not do better than refer to Mr. +Forsheu, that very excellent gentleman. Mrs. Swiggs held him in high +esteem, and so far regarded his character for piety and chivalry +unblemished, that she consigned to him her old slave of seventy +years--old Molly. Molly must be sold, the New York Tract Society must +have a mite, and Sister Abijah Slocum's very laudable enterprise of +getting Brother Singleton Spyke off to Antioch must be encouraged. And +Mr. Forsheu is very kind to the old people he sells. It would, indeed, +be difficult for the distant reader to conceive a more striking instance +of a man, grown rich in a commerce that blunts all the finer qualities +of our nature, preserving a gentleness, excelled only by his real +goodness of heart. + +When the old slave, leaning on her crutch, stood before Mr. Forsheu, her +face the very picture of age and starvation, his heart recoiled at the +thought of selling her in her present condition. He read the letter she +bore, contemplated her with an air of pity, and turning to Mr. Benbow, +his methodical book-keeper of twenty years, who had added and subtracted +through a wilderness of bodies and souls, ordered him to send the +shrunken old woman into the pen, on feed. Mr. Forsheu prided himself on +the quality of people sold at his shambles, and would not for the world +hazard his reputation on old Molly, till she was got in better +condition. Molly rather liked this, inasmuch as she had been fed on corn +and prayers exclusively, and more prayers than corn, which is become the +fashion with our much-reduced first families. For nearly four months she +enjoyed, much to the discomfiture of her august owner, the comforts of +Mr. Forsheu's pen. Daily did the anxious old lady study her Milton, and +dispatch a slave to inquire if her piece of aged property had found a +purchaser. The polite vender preserved, with uncommon philosophy, his +temper. He enjoined patience. The condition and age of the property +were, he said, much in the way of sale. Then Mrs. Swiggs began +questioning his ability as a merchant. Aspersions of this kind, the +polite vender of people could not bear with. He was a man of enormous +wealth, the result of his skill in the sale of people. He was the +president of an insurance company, a bank director, a commissioner of +the orphan asylum, and a steward of the jockey club. To his great +relief, for he began to have serious misgivings about his outlay on old +Molly, there came along one day an excellent customer. This was no less +a person than Madame Flamingo. What was singular of this very +distinguished lady was, that she always had a use for old slaves no one +else ever thought of. Her yard was full of aged and tottering humanity. +One cleaned knives, another fetched ice from the ice-house, a third +blacked boots, a fourth split wood, a fifth carried groceries, and a +sixth did the marketing. She had a decayed negro for the smallest +service; and, to her credit be it said, they were as contented and well +fed a body of tottering age as could be found in old Carolina. + +Her knife-cleaning machine having taken it into his head to die one day, +she would purchase another. Mr Forsheu, with that urbanity we so well +understand how to appreciate, informed the distinguished lady that he +had an article exactly suited to her wants. Forthwith, Molly was +summoned into her presence. Madame Flamingo, moved almost to tears at +the old slave's appearance, purchased her out of pure sympathy, as we +call it, and to the great relief of Mr. Forsheu, lost no time in paying +one hundred and forty dollars down in gold for her. In deference to Mr. +Hadger, the House of The Foreign Missions, and the very excellent Tract +Society, of New York, we will not here extend on how the money was got. +The transaction was purely commercial: why should humanity interpose? We +hold it strictly legal that institutions created for the purpose of +enlightening the heathen have no right to ask by what means the money +constituting their donations is got. + +The comforts of Mr. Forsheu's pen,--the hominy, grits, and rest, made +the old slave quite as reluctant about leaving him as she had before +been in parting with Lady Swiggs. Albeit, she shook his hand with equal +earnestness, and lisped "God bless Massa," with a tenderness and +simplicity so touching, that had not Madame Flamingo been an excellent +diplomat, reconciling the matter by assuring her that she would get +enough to eat, and clothes to wear, no few tears would have been shed. +Madame, in addition to this incentive, intimated that she might attend a +prayer meeting now and then--perhaps see Cicero. However, Molly could +easily have forgotten Cicero, inasmuch as she had enjoyed the rare +felicity of thirteen husbands, all of whom Lady Swiggs had sold when it +suited her own convenience. + +Having made her purchase, Madame very elegantly bid the gallant merchant +good morning, hoping he would not forget her address, and call round +when it suited his convenience. Mr. Forsheu, his hat doffed, escorted +her to her carriage, into the amber-colored lining of which she +gracefully settled her majestic self, as a slightly-browned gentleman in +livery closed the bright door, took her order with servile bows, and +having motioned to the coachman, the carriage rolled away, and was soon +out of sight. Monsieur Gronski, it may be well to add here, was +discovered curled up in one corner; he smiled, and extended his hand +very graciously to Madame as she entered the carriage. + +Like a pilgrim in search of some promised land, Molly adjusted her +crutch, and over the sandy road trudged, with truculent face, to her new +home, humming to herself "dah-is-a-time-a-comin, den da Lor' he be +good!!" + +On the following morning, Lady Swiggs received her account current, Mr. +Forsheu being exceedingly prompt in business. There was one hundred and +twenty-nine days' feed, commissions, advertising, and sundry smaller +charges, which reduced the net balance to one hundred and three dollars. +Mrs. Swiggs, with an infatuation kindred to that which finds the State +blind to its own poverty, stubbornly refused to believe her slaves had +declined in value. Hence she received the vender's account with surprise +and dissatisfaction. However, the sale being binding, she gradually +accommodated her mind to the result, and began evolving the question of +how to make the amount meet the emergency. She must visit the great city +of New York; she must see Sister Slocum face to face; Brother Spyke's +mission must have fifty dollars; how much could she give the Tract +Society? Here was a dilemma--one which might have excited the sympathy +of the House of the "Foreign Missions." The dignity of the family, too, +was at stake. Many sleepless nights did this difficult matter cause the +august old lady. She thought of selling another cripple! Oh! that would +not do. Mr. Keepum had a lien on them; Mr. Keepum was a man of +iron-heart. Suddenly it flashed upon her mind that she had already been +guilty of a legal wrong in selling old Molly. Mr. Soloman had doubtless +described her with legal minuteness in the bond of security for the two +hundred dollars. Her decrepit form; her corrugated face; her heavy lip; +her crutch, and her piety--everything, in a word, but her starvation, +had been set down. Well! Mr. Soloman might, she thought, overlook in the +multiplicity of business so small a discrepancy. She, too, had a large +circle of distinguished friends. If the worst came to the worst she +would appeal to them. There, too, was Sir Sunderland Swiggs' portrait, +very valuable for its age; she might sell the family arms, such things +being in great demand with the chivalry; her antique furniture, too, +was highly prized by our first families. Thus Lady Swiggs contemplated +these mighty relics of past greatness. Our celtic Butlers and Brookses +never recurred to the blood of their querulous ancestors with more awe +than did this memorable lady to her decayed relics. Mr. Israel Moses, +she cherished a hope, would give a large sum for the portrait; the +family arms he would value at a high figure; the old furniture he would +esteem a prize. But to Mr. Moses and common sense, neither the blood of +the Butlers, nor Lady Swiggs' rubbish, were safe to loan money upon. The +Hebrew gentleman was not so easily beguiled. + +The time came when it was necessary to appeal to Mr. Hadger. That +gentleman held the dignity of the Swiggs family in high esteem, but +shook his head when he found the respectability of the house the only +security offered in exchange for a loan. Ah! a thought flashed to her +relief, the family watch and chain would beguile the Hebrew gentleman. +With these cherished mementoes of the high old family, (she would under +no other circumstance have parted with for uncounted gold,) she in time +seduced Mr. Israel Moses to make a small advance. Duty, stern and +demanding, called her to New York. Forced to reduce her generosity, she, +not without a sigh, made up her mind to give only thirty dollars to each +of the institutions she had made so many sacrifices to serve. And thus, +with a reduced platform, as our politicians have it, she set about +preparing for the grand journey. Regards the most distinguished were +sent to all the first families; the St. Cecilia had notice of her +intended absence; no end of tea parties were given in honor of the +event. Apparently happy with herself, with every one but poor Tom, our +august lady left in the Steamer one day. With a little of that vanity +the State deals so largely in, Mrs. Swiggs thought every passenger on +board wondering and staring at her. + +While then she voyages and dreams of the grand reception waiting her in +New York,--of Sister Slocum's smiles, of the good of the heathen world, +and of those nice evening gatherings she will enjoy with the pious, let +us, gentle reader, look in at the house of Absalom McArthur. + +To-day Tom Swiggs feels himself free, and it is high noon. Downcast of +countenance he wends his way along the fashionable side of King-street. +The young theologian is at his side. George Mullholland has gone to the +house of Madame Flamingo. He will announce the glad news to Anna. The +old antiquarian dusts his little counter with a stubby broom, places +various curiosities in the windows, and about the doors, stands +contemplating them with an air of satisfaction, then proceeds to drive a +swarm of flies that hover upon the ceiling, into a curiously-arranged +trap that he has set. + +"What!--my young friend, Tom Swiggs!" exclaims the old man, toddling +toward Tom, and grasping firmly his hand, as he enters the door. "You +are welcome to my little place, which shall be a home." Tom hangs down +his head, receives the old man's greeting with shyness. "Your poor +father and me, Tom, used to sit here many a time. (The old man points to +an old sofa.) We were friends. He thought much of me, and I had a high +opinion of him; and so we used to sit for hours, and talk over the deeds +of the old continentals. Your mother and him didn't get along over-well +together; she had more dignity than he could well digest: but that is +neither here nor there." + +"I hope, in time," interrupts Tom, "to repay your kindness. I am willing +to ply myself to work, though it degrades one in the eyes of our +society." + +"As to that," returns the old man, "why, don't mention it. Maria, you +know, will be a friend to you. Come away now and see her." And taking +Tom by the hand, (the theologian has withdrawn,) he becomes +enthusiastic, leads him through the dark, narrow passage into the back +parlor, where he is met by Maria, and cordially welcomed. "Why, Tom, +what a change has come over you," she ejaculates, holding his hand, and +viewing him with the solicitude of a sister, who hastens to embrace a +brother returned after a long absence. Letting fall his begrimed hand, +she draws up the old-fashioned rocking chair, and bids him be seated. He +shakes his head moodily, says he is not so bad as he seems, and hopes +yet to make himself worthy of her kindness. He has been the associate of +criminals; he has suffered punishment; he feels himself loathed by +society; he cannot divest himself of the odium clinging to his garments. +Fain would he go to some distant clime, and there seek a refuge from the +odium of felons. + +"Let no such thoughts enter your mind, Tom," says the affectionate girl; +"divest yourself at once of feelings that can only do you injury. You +have engaged my thoughts during your troubles. Twice I begged your +mother to honor me with an interview. We were humble people; she +condescended at last. But she turned a deaf ear to me when I appealed to +her for your release, merely inquiring if--like that other jade--I had +become enamored of--" Maria pauses, blushing. + +"I would like to see my mother," interposes Tom. + +"Had I belonged to our grand society, the case had been different," +resumes Maria. + +"Truly, Maria," stammers Tom, "had I supposed there was one in the world +who cared for me, I had been a better man." + +"As to that, why we were brought up together, Tom. We knew each other as +children, and what else but respect could I have for you? One never +knows how much others think of them, for the--" Maria blushes, checks +herself, and watches the changes playing over Tom's countenance. She was +about to say the tongue of love was too often silent. + +It must be acknowledged that Maria had, for years, cherished a passion +for Tom. He, however, like many others of his class, was too stupid to +discover it. The girl, too, had been overawed by the dignity of his +mother. Thus, with feelings of pain did she watch the downward course of +one in whose welfare she took a deep interest. + +"Very often those for whom we cherish the fondest affections, are +coldest in their demeanor towards us," pursues Maria. + +"Can she have thought of me so much as to love me?" Tom questions within +himself; and Maria put an end to the conversation by ringing the bell, +commanding the old servant to hasten dinner. A plate must be placed at +the table for Tom. + +The antiquarian, having, as he says, left the young people to +themselves, stands at his counter furbishing up sundry old engravings, +horse-pistols, pieces of coat-of-mail, and two large scimitars, all of +which he has piled together in a heap, and beside which lay several +chapeaus said to have belonged to distinguished Britishers. Mr. Soloman +suddenly makes his appearance in the little shop, much to Mr. McArthur's +surprise. "Say--old man! centurion!" he exclaims, in a maudlin laugh, +"Keepum's in the straps--is, I do declare; Gadsden and he bought a lot +of niggers--a monster drove of 'em, on shares. He wants that trifle of +borrowed money--must have it. Can have it back in a few days." + +"Bless me," interrupts the old man, confusedly, "but off my little +things it will be hard to raise it. Times is hard, our people go, like +geese, to the North. They get rid of all their money there, and their +fancy--you know that, Mr. Snivel--is abroad, while they have, for home, +only a love to keep up slavery." + +"I thought it would come to that," says Mr. Snivel, facetiously. The +antiquarian seems bewildered, commences offering excuses that rather +involve himself deeper, and finally concludes by pleading for a delay. +Scarce any one would have thought a person of Mr. McArthur's position, +indebted to Mr. Keepum; but so it was. It is very difficult to tell +whose negroes are not mortgaged to Mr. Keepum, how many mortgages of +plantation he has foreclosed, how many high old families he has reduced +to abject poverty, or how many poor but respectable families he has +disgraced. He has a reputation for loaning money to parents, that he may +rob their daughters of that jewel the world refuses to give them back. +And yet our best society honor him, fawn over him, and bow to him. We so +worship the god of slavery, that our minds are become debased, and yet +we seem unconscious of it. Mr. Keepum did not lend money to the old +antiquarian without a purpose. That purpose, that justice which +accommodates itself to the popular voice, will aid him in gaining. + +Mr. Snivel affects a tone of moderation, whispers in the old man's ear, +and says: "Mind you tell the fortune of this girl, Bonard, as I have +directed. Study what I have told you. If she be not the child of Madame +Montford, then no faith can be put in likenesses. I have got in my +possession what goes far to strengthen the suspicions now rife +concerning the fashionable New Yorker." + +"There surely is a mystery about this woman, Mr. Snivel, as you say. She +has so many times looked in here to inquire about Mag Munday, a woman in +a curious line of life who came here, got down in the world, as they all +do, and used now and then to get the loan of a trifle from me to keep +her from starvation." (Mr. Snivel says, in parentheses, he knows all +about her.) + +"Ha! ha! my old boy," says Mr. Snivel, frisking his fingers through his +light Saxon beard, "I have had this case in hand for some time. It is +strictly a private matter, nevertheless. They are a bad lot--them New +Yorkers, who come here to avoid their little delicate affairs. I may yet +make a good thing out of this, though. As for that fellow, Mullholland, +I intend getting him the whipping post. He is come to be the associate +of gentlemen; men high in office shower upon him their favors. It is all +to propitiate the friendship of Bonard--I know it." Mr. Snivel concludes +hurriedly, and departs into the street, as our scene changes. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + +ANNA BONARD SEEKS AN INTERVIEW WITH THE ANTIQUARY. + + +It is night. King street seems in a melancholy mood, the blue arch of +heaven is bespangled with twinkling stars, the moon has mounted her high +throne, and her beams, like messengers of love, dance joyously over the +calm waters of the bay, so serenely skirted with dark woodland. The dull +tramp of the guardman's horse now breaks the stillness; then the +measured tread of the heavily-armed patrol, with which the city swarms +at night, echoes and re-echoes along the narrow streets. A theatre +reeking with the fumes of whiskey and tobacco; a sombre-looking +guard-house, bristling with armed men, who usher forth to guard the +fears of tyranny, or drag in some wretched slave; a dilapidated "Court +House," at the corner, at which lazy-looking men lounge; a castellated +"Work House," so grand without, and so full of bleeding hearts within; a +"Poor House" on crutches, and in which infirm age and poverty die of +treatment that makes the heart sicken--these are all the public +buildings we can boast. Like ominous mounds, they seem sleeping in the +calm and serene night. Ah! we had almost forgotten the sympathetic old +hospital, with its verandas; the crabbed looking "City Hall," with its +port holes; and the "Citadel," in which, when our youths have learned to +fight duels, we learn them how to fight their way out of the Union. +Duelling is our high art; getting out of the Union is our low. And, too, +we have, and make no small boast that we have, two or three buildings +called "Halls." In these our own supper-eating men riot, our soldiers +drill (soldiering is our presiding genius), and our mob-politicians +waste their spleen against the North. Unlike Boston, towering all bright +and vigorous in the atmosphere of freedom, we have no galleries of +statuary; no conservatories of paintings; no massive edifices of marble, +dedicated to art and science; no princely school-houses, radiating their +light of learning over a peace and justice-loving community; no majestic +exchange, of granite and polished marble, so emblematic of a thrifty +commerce;--we have no regal "State House" on the lofty hill, no +glittering colleges everywhere striking the eye. The god of slavery--the +god we worship, has no use for such temples; public libraries are his +prison; his civilization is like a dull dead march; he is the enemy of +his own heart, vitiating and making drear whatever he touches. He wages +war on art, science, civilization! he trembles at the sight of temples +reared for the enlightening of the masses. Tyranny is his law, a +cotton-bag his judgment-seat. But we pride ourselves that we are a +respectable people--what more would you have us? + +The night is chilly without, in the fireplace of the antiquary's back +parlor there burns a scanty wood fire. Tom has eaten his supper and +retired to a little closet-like room overhead, where, in bed, he muses +over what fell from Maria's lips, in their interview. Did she really +cherish a passion for him? had her solicitude in years past something +more than friendship in it? what did she mean? He was not one of those +whose place in a woman's heart could never be supplied. How would an +alliance with Maria affect his mother's dignity? All these things Tom +evolves over and over in his mind. In point of position, a mechanic's +daughter was not far removed from the slave; a mechanic's daughter was +viewed only as a good object of seduction for some nice young gentleman. +Antiquarians might get a few bows of planter's sons, the legal gentry, +and cotton brokers (these make up our aristocracy), but practically no +one would think of admitting them into decent society. They, of right, +belong to that vulgar herd that live by labor at which the slave can be +employed. To be anything in the eyes of good society, you must only live +upon the earnings of slaves. + +"Why," says Tom, "should I consult the dignity of a mother who discards +me? The love of this lone daughter of the antiquary, this girl who +strives to know my wants, and to promote my welfare, rises superior to +all. I will away with such thoughts! I will be a man!" Maria, with eager +eye and thoughtful countenance, sits at the little antique centre-table, +reading Longfellow's Evangeline, by the pale light of a candle. A lurid +glare is shed over the cavern-like place. The reflection plays curiously +upon the corrugated features of the old man, who, his favorite cat at +his side, reclines on a stubby little sofa, drawn well up to the fire. +The poet would not select Maria as his ideal of female loveliness; and +yet there is a touching modesty in her demeanor, a sweet smile ever +playing over her countenance, an artlessness in her conversation that +more than makes up for the want of those charms novel writers are +pleased to call transcendent. "Father!" she says, pausing, "some one +knocks at the outer door." The old man starts and listens, then hastens +to open it. There stands before him the figure of a strange female, +veiled. "I am glad to find you, old man. Be not suspicious of my coming +at this hour, for my mission is a strange one." The old man's crooked +eyes flash, his deep curling lip quivers, his hand vibrates the candle +he holds before him. "If on a mission to do nobody harm," he responds, +"then you are welcome." "You will pardon me; I have seen you before. You +have wished me well," she whispers in a musical voice. Gracefully she +raises her veil over her Spanish hood, and advances cautiously, as the +old man closes the door behind her. Then she uncovers her head, +nervously. The white, jewelled fingers of her right hand, so delicate +and tapering, wander over and smooth her silky black hair, that falls in +waves over her Ion-like brow. How exquisite those features just +revealed; how full of soul those flashing black eyes; her dress, how +chaste! "They call me Anna Bonard," she speaks, timorously, "you may +know me?--" + +"Oh, I know you well," interrupts the old man, "your beauty has made you +known. What more would you have?" + +"Something that will make me happy. Old man, I am unhappy. Tell me, if +you have the power, who I am. Am I an orphan, as has been told me; or +have I parents yet living, affluent, and high in society? Do they seek +me and cannot find me? Oh! let the fates speak, old man, for this world +has given me nothing but pain and shame. Am I--" she pauses, her eyes +wander to the floor, her cheeks crimson, she seizes the old man by the +hand, and her bosom heaves as if a fierce passion had just been kindled +within it. + +The old man preserves his equanimity, says he has a fortune to tell her. +Fortunes are best told at midnight. The stars, too, let out their +secrets more willingly when the night-king rules. He bids her follow +him, and totters back to the little parlor. With a wise air, he bids her +be seated on the sofa, saying he never mistakes maidens when they call +at this hour. + +Maria, who rose from the table at the entrance of the stranger, bows, +shuts her book mechanically, and retires. Can there be another face so +lovely? she questions within herself, as she pauses to contemplate the +stranger ere she disappears. The antiquary draws a chair and seats +himself beside Anna. "Thy life and destiny," he says, fretting his bony +fingers over the crown of his wig. "Blessed is the will of providence +that permits us to know the secrets of destiny. Give me your hand, fair +lady." Like a philosopher in deep study, he wipes and adjusts his +spectacles, then takes her right hand and commences reading its lines. +"Your history is an uncommon one--" + +"Yes," interrupts the girl, "mine has been a chequered life." + +"You have seen sorrow enough, but will see more. You come of good +parents; but, ah!--there is a mystery shrouding your birth." ("And that +mystery," interposes the girl, "I want to have explained.") "There will +come a woman to reclaim you--a woman in high life; but she will come too +late--" (The girl pales and trembles.) "Yes," pursues the old man, +looking more studiously at her hand, "she will come too late. You will +have admirers, and even suitors; but they will only betray you, and in +the end you will die of trouble. Ah! there is a line that had escaped +me. You may avert this dark destiny--yes, you may escape the end that +fate has ordained for you. In neglect you came up, the companion of a +man you think true to you. But he is not true to you. Watch him, follow +him--you will yet find him out. Ha! ha! ha! these men are not to be +trusted, my dear. There is but one man who really loves you. He is an +old man, a man of station. He is your only true friend. I here see it +marked." He crosses her hand, and says there can be no mistaking it. +"With that man, fair girl, you may escape the dark destiny. But, above +all things, do not treat him coldly. And here I see by the sign that +Anna Bonard is not your name. The name was given you by a wizard." + +"You are right, old man," speaks Anna, raising thoughtfully her great +black eyes, as the antiquary pauses and watches each change of her +countenance; "that name was given me by Hag Zogbaum, when I was a child +in her den, in New York, and when no one cared for me. What my right +name was has now slipped my memory. I was indeed a wretched child, and +know little of myself." + +"Was it Munday?" inquires the old man. Scarce has he lisped the name +before she catches it up and repeats it, incoherently, "Munday! Munday! +Munday!" her eyes flash with anxiety. "Ah, I remember now. I was called +Anna Munday by Mother Bridges. I lived with her before I got to the den +of Hag Zogbaum. And Mother Bridges sold apples at a stand at the corner +of a street, on West street. It seems like a dream to me now. I do not +want to recall those dark days or my childhood. Have you not some +revelation to make respecting my parents?" The old man says the signs +will not aid him further. "On my arm," she pursues, baring her white, +polished arm, "there is a mark. I know not who imprinted it there. See, +old man." The old man sees high up on her right arm two hearts and a +broken anchor, impressed with India ink blue and red. "Yes," repeats the +antiquary, viewing it studiously, "but it gives out no history. If you +could remember who put it there." Of that she has no recollection. The +old man cannot relieve her anxiety, and arranging her hood she bids him +good night, forces a piece of gold into his hand, and seeks her home, +disappointed. + +The antiquary's predictions were founded on what Mr. Soloman Snivel had +told him, and that gentleman got what he knew of Anna's history from +George Mullholland. To this, however, he added what suggestions his +suspicions gave rise to. The similarity of likeness between Anna and +Madame Montford was striking; Madame Montford's mysterious searches and +inquiries for the woman Munday had something of deep import in them. Mag +Munday's strange disappearance from Charleston, and her previous +importuning for the old dress left in pawn with McArthur, were not to be +overlooked. These things taken together, and Mr. Snivel saw a case there +could be no mistaking. That case became stronger when his fashionable +friend engaged his services to trace out what had become of the woman +Mag Munday, and to further ascertain what the girl Anna Bonard knew of +her own history. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + +A SECRET INTERVIEW. + + +While the scene we have related in the foregoing chapter was being +enacted, there might be seen pacing the great colonnade of the +Charleston hotel, the tall figure of a man wrapped in a massive talma. +Heedless of the throng of drinkers gathered in the spacious bar-room, +making the very air echo with their revelry, he pauses every few +moments, watches intently up and then down Meeting street, now +apparently contemplating the twinkling stars, then turning as if +disappointed, and resuming his sallies. "He will not come to night," he +mutters, as he pauses at the "Ladies' door," then turns and rings the +bell. The well-dressed and highly-perfumed servant who guards the door, +admits him with a scrutinizing eye. "Beg pardon," he says, with a +mechanical bow. He recognizes the stranger, bows, and motions his hands. +"Twice," continues the servant, "she has sent a messenger to inquire of +your coming." The figure in the talma answers with a bow, slips +something into the hand of the servant, passes softly up the great +stairs, and is soon lost to sight. In another minute he enters, without +knocking, a spacious parlor, decorated and furnished most sumptuously. +"How impatiently I have waited your coming," whispers, cautiously, a +richly-dressed lady, as she rises from a velvet covered lounge, on which +she had reclined, and extends her hand to welcome him. + +"Madame, your most obedient," returns the man, bowing and holding her +delicate hand in his. "You have something of importance,--something to +relieve my mind?" she inquires, watching his lips, trembling, and in +anxiety. "Nothing definite," he replies, touching her gently on the arm, +as she begs him to be seated in the great arm-chair. He lays aside his +talma, places his gloves on the centre-table, which is heaped with an +infinite variety of delicately-enveloped missives and cards, all +indicative of her position in fashionable society. "I may say, Madame, +that I sympathize with you in your anxiety; but as yet I have discovered +nothing to relieve it." Madame sighs, and draws her chair near him, in +silence. "That she is the woman you seek I cannot doubt. While on the +Neck, I penetrated the shanty of one Thompson, a poor mechanic--our +white mechanics, you see, are very poor, and not much thought of--who +had known her, given her a shelter, and several times saved her from +starvation. Then she left the neighborhood and took to living with a +poor wretch of a shoemaker." + +"Poor creature," interrupts Madame Montford, for it is she whom Mr. +Snivel addresses. "If she be dead--oh, dear! That will be the end. I +never shall know what became of that child. And to die ignorant of its +fate will--" Madame pauses, her color changes, she seems seized with +some violent emotion. Mr. Snivel perceives her agitation, and begs she +will remain calm. "If that child had been my own," she resumes, "the +responsibility had not weighed heavier on my conscience. Wealth, +position, the pleasures of society--all sink into insignificance when +compared with my anxiety for the fate of that child. It is like an arrow +piercing my heart, like a phantom haunting me in my dreams, like an +evil spirit waking me at night to tell me I shall die an unhappy woman +for having neglected one I was bound by the commands of God to +protect--to save, perhaps, from a life of shame." She lets fall the +satin folds of her dress, buries her face in her hands, and gives vent +to her tears in loud sobs. Mr. Snivel contemplates her agitation with +unmoved muscle. To him it is a true index to the sequel. "If you will +pardon me, Madame," he continues, "as I was about to say of this +miserable shoemaker, he took to drink, as all our white mechanics do, +and then used to abuse her. We don't think anything of these people, you +see, who after giving themselves up to whiskey, die in the poor house, a +terrible death. This shoemaker, of whom I speak, died, and she was +turned into the streets by her landlord, and that sent her to living +with a 'yellow fellow,' as we call them. Soon after this she died--so +report has it. We never know much, you see, about these common people. +They are a sort of trash we can make nothing of, and they get terribly +low now and then." Madame Montford's swelling breast heaves, her +countenance wears an air of melancholy; again she nervously lays aside +the cloud-like skirts of her brocade dress. "Have you not," she +inquires, fretting her jewelled fingers and displaying the massive gold +bracelets that clasp her wrists, "some stronger evidence of her death?" +Mr. Snivel says he has none but what he gathered from the negroes and +poor mechanics, who live in the by-lanes of the city. There is little +dependence, however, to be placed in such reports. Madame, with an air +of composure, rises from her chair, and paces twice or thrice across the +room, seemingly in deep study. "Something," she speaks, stopping +suddenly in one of her sallies--"something (I do not know what it is) +tells me she yet lives: that this is the child we see, living an +abandoned life." + +"As I was going on to say, Madame," pursues Mr. Snivel, with great +blandness of manner, "when our white trash get to living with our +negroes they are as well as dead. One never knows what comes of them +after that. Being always ready to do a bit of a good turn, as you know, +I looked in at Sam Wiley's cabin. Sam Wiley is a negro of some +respectability, and generally has an eye to what becomes of these white +wretches. I don't--I assure you I don't, Madame--look into these places +except on professional business. Sam, after making inquiry among his +neighbors--our colored population view these people with no very good +opinion, when they get down in the world--said he thought she had found +her way through the gates of the poor man's graveyard." + +"Poor man's graveyard!" repeats Madame Montford, again resuming her +chair. + +"Exactly! We have to distinguish between people of position and those +white mechanics who come here from the North, get down in the world, and +then die. We can't sell this sort of people, you see. No keeping their +morals straight without you can. However, this is not to the point. (Mr. +Solomon Snivel keeps his eyes intently fixed upon the lady.) + +"I sought out the old Sexton, a stupid old cove enough. He had neither +names on his record nor graves that answered the purpose. In a legal +sense, Madame, this would not be valid testimony, for this old cove +being only too glad to get rid of our poor, and the fees into his +pocket, is not very particular about names. If it were one of our +'first families,' the old fellow would be so obsequious about having the +name down square--" + +Mr. Snivel frets his fingers through his beard, and bows with an easy +grace. + +"Our first families!" repeats Madame Montford. + +"Yes, indeed! He is extremely correct over their funerals. They are of a +fashionable sort, you see. Well, while I was musing over the decaying +dead, and the distinction between poor dead and rich dead, there came +along one Graves, a sort of wayward, half simpleton, who goes about +among churchyards, makes graves a study, knows where every one who has +died for the last century is tucked away, and is worth six sextons at +pointing out graves. He never knows anything about the living, for the +living, he says, won't let him live; and that being the case, he only +wants to keep up his acquaintance with the dead. He never has a hat to +his head, nor a shoe to his foot; and where, and how he lives, no one +can tell. He has been at the whipping-post a dozen times or more, but +I'm not so sure that the poor wretch ever did anything to merit such +punishment. Just as the crabbed old sexton was going to drive him out of +the gate with a big stick, I says, more in the way of a joke than +anything else: 'Graves, come here!--I want a word or two with you.' He +came up, looking shy and suspicious, and saying he wasn't going to harm +anybody, but there was some fresh graves he was thinking over." + +"Some fresh graves!" repeats Madame Montford, nervously. + +"Bless you!--a very common thing," rejoins Mr. Snivel, with a bow. +"Well, this lean simpleton said they (the graves) were made while he was +sick. That being the case, he was deprived--and he lamented it +bitterly--of being present at the funerals, and getting the names of the +deceased. He is a great favorite with the grave-digger, lends him a +willing hand on all occasions, and is extremely useful when the yellow +fever rages. But to the sexton he is a perfect pest, for if a grave be +made during his absence he will importune until he get the name of the +departed. 'Graves,' says I, 'where do they bury these unfortunate women +who die off so, here in Charleston?' 'Bless you, my friend,' says +Graves, accompanying his words with an idiotic laugh, 'why, there's +three stacks of them, yonder. They ship them from New York in lots, poor +things; they dies here in droves, poor things; and we buries them yonder +in piles, poor things. They go--yes, sir, I have thought a deal of this +thing--fast through life; but they dies, and nobody cares for them--you +see how they are buried.' I inquired if he knew all their names. He said +of course he did. If he didn't, nobody else would. In order to try him, +I desired he would show me the grave of Mag Munday. He shook his head +smiled, muttered the name incoherently, and said he thought it sounded +like a dead name. 'I'll get my thinking right,' he pursued, and +brightening up all at once, his vacant eyes flashed, then he touched me +cunningly on the arm, and with a wink and nod of the head there was no +mistaking, led the way to a great mound located in an obscure part of +the graveyard--" + +"A great mound! I thought it would come to that," sighs Madame Montford, +impatiently. + +"We bury these wretched creatures in an obscure place. Indeed, Madame, I +hold it unnecessary to have anything to distinguish them when once they +are dead. Well, this poor forlorn simpleton then sat down on a grave, +and bid me sit beside him. I did as he bid me, and soon he went into a +deep study, muttering the name of Mag Munday the while, until I thought +he never would stop. So wild and wandering did the poor fellow seem, +that I began to think it a pity we had not a place, an insane hospital, +or some sort of benevolent institution, where such poor creatures could +be placed and cared for. It would be much better than sending them to +the whipping-post--" + +"I am indeed of your opinion--of your way of thinking most certainly," +interpolates Madame Montford, a shadow of melancholy darkening her +countenance. + +"At length, he went at it, and repeated over an infinite quantity of +names. It was wonderful to see how he could keep them all in his head. +'Well, now,' says he, turning to me with an inoffensive laugh, 'she +ben't dead. You may bet on that. There now!' he spoke, as if suddenly +becoming conscious of a recently-made discovery. 'Why, she runned wild +about here, as I does, for a time; was abused and knocked about by +everybody. Oh, she had a hard time enough, God knows that.' 'But that is +not disclosing to me what became of her,' says I; 'come, be serious, +Graves.' (We call him this, you see, Madame, for the reason that he is +always among graveyards.) Then he went into a singing mood, sang two +plaintive songs, and had sung a third and fourth, if I had not stopped +him. 'Well,' he says, 'that woman ain't dead, for I've called up in my +mind the whole graveyard of names, and her's is not among them. Why not, +good gentleman, (he seized me by the arm as he said this,) inquire of +Milman Mingle, the vote-cribber? He is a great politician, never thinks +of poor Graves, and wouldn't look into a graveyard for the world. The +vote-cribber used to live with her, and several times he threatened to +hang her, and would a hanged her--yes, he would, sir--if it hadn't a +been for the neighbors. I don't take much interest in the living, you +know. But I pitied her, poor thing, for she was to be pitied, and there +was nobody but me to do it. Just inquire of the vote-cribber.' I knew +the simpleton never told an untruth, being in no way connected with our +political parties." + +"Never told an untruth, being in no way connected with our political +parties!" repeats Madame Montford, who has become more calm. + +"I gave him a few shillings, he followed me to the gate, and left me +muttering, 'Go, inquire of the vote-cribber.'" + +"And have you found this man?" inquires the anxious lady. + +"I forthwith set about it," replies Mr. Snivel, "but as yet, am +unsuccessful. Nine months during the year his residence is the jail--" + +"The jail!" + +"Yes, Madame, the jail. His profession, although essential to the +elevation of our politicians and statesmen, is nevertheless unlawful. +And he being obliged to practice it in opposition to the law, quietly +submits to the penalty, which is a residence in the old prison for a +short time. It's a nominal thing, you see, and he has become so +habituated to it that I am inclined to the belief that he prefers it. I +proceeded to the prison and found he had been released. One of our +elections comes off in a few days. The approach of such an event is sure +to find him at large. I sought him in all the drinking saloons, in the +gambling dens, in the haunts of prostitution--in all the low places +where our great politicians most do assemble and debauch themselves. He +was not to be found. Being of the opposite party, I despatched a spy to +the haunt of the committee of the party to which he belongs, and for +which he cribs. I have paced the colonnade for more than an hour, +waiting the coming of this spy. He did not return, and knowing your +anxiety in the matter I returned to you. To-morrow I will seek him out; +to-morrow I will get from him what he knows of this woman you seek. + +"And now, Madame, here is something I would have you examine." (Mr. +Snivel methodically says he got it of McArthur, the antiquary.) "She +made a great ado about a dress that contained this letter. I have no +doubt it will tell a tale." Mr. Snivel draws from his breast-pocket the +letter found concealed in the old dress, and passes it to Madame +Montford, who receives it with a nervous hand. Her eyes become fixed +upon it, she glances over its defaced page with an air of bewilderment, +her face crimsons, then suddenly pales, her lips quiver--her every nerve +seems unbending to the shock. "Heavens! has it come to this?" she +mutters, confusedly. Her strength fails her; the familiar letter falls +from her fingers.--For a few moments she seems struggling to suppress +her emotions, but her reeling brain yields, her features become like +marble, she shrieks and swoons ere Mr. Snivel has time to clasp her in +his arms. + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + +LADY SWIGGS ENCOUNTERS DIFFICULTIES ON HER ARRIVAL IN NEW YORK. + + +A pleasant passage of sixty hours, a good shaking up at the hands of +that old tyrant, sea-sickness, and Lady Swiggs finds the steamer on +which she took passage gliding majestically up New York Bay. There she +sits, in all her dignity, an embodiment of our decayed chivalry, a fair +representative of our first families. She has taken up her position on +the upper deck, in front of the wheel house. As one after another the +objects of beauty that make grand the environs of that noble Bay, open +to her astonished eyes, she contrasts them favorably or unfavorably with +some familiar object in Charleston harbor. There is indeed a similarity +in the conformation. And though ours, she says, may not be so extensive, +nor so grand in its outlines, nor so calm and soft in its perspective, +there is a more aristocratic air about it. Smaller bodies are always +more select and respectable. The captain, to whom she has put an hundred +and one questions which he answers in monosyllables, is not, she thinks, +so much of a gentleman as he might have been had he been educated in +Charleston. He makes no distinction in favor of people of rank. + +Lady Swiggs wears that same faded silk dress; her black crape bonnet, +with two saucy red artificial flowers tucked in at the side, sits so +jauntily; that dash of brown hair is smoothed so exactly over her +yellow, shrivelled forehead; her lower jaw oscillates with increased +motion; and her sharp, gray eyes, as before, peer anxiously through her +great-eyed spectacles. And, generous reader, that you may not mistake +her, she has brought her inseparable Milton, which she holds firmly +grasped in her right hand. "You have had a tedious time of it, Madam," +says a corpulent lady, who is extensively dressed and jewelled, and +accosts her with a familiar air. Lady Swiggs says not so tedious as it +might have been, and gives her head two or three very fashionable +twitches. + +"Your name, if you please?" + +"The Princess Grouski. My husband, the Prince Grouski," replies the +corpulent lady, turning and introducing a fair-haired gentleman, tall +and straight of person, somewhat military in his movements, and +extremely fond of fingering his long, Saxon moustache. Lady Swiggs, on +the announcement of a princess, rises suddenly to her feet, and +commences an unlimited number of courtesies. She is, indeed, most happy +to meet, and have the honor of being fellow-voyager with their Royal +Highnesses--will remember it as being one of the happiest events of her +life,--and begs to assure them of her high esteem. The corpulent lady +gives her a delicate card, on which is described the crown of Poland, +and beneath, in exact letters, "The Prince and Princess Grouski." The +Prince affects not to understand English, which Lady Swiggs regrets +exceedingly, inasmuch as it deprives her of an interesting conversation +with a person of royal blood. The card she places carefully between the +leaves of her Milton, having first contemplated it with an air of +exultation. Again begging to thank the Prince and Princess for this +mark of their distinguished consideration, Lady Swiggs inquires if they +ever met or heard of Sir Sunderland Swiggs. The rotund lady, for herself +and the prince, replies in the negative. "He was," she pursues, with a +sigh of disappointment, "he was very distinguished, in his day. Yes, and +I am his lineal descendant. Your highnesses visited Charleston, of +course?" + +"O dear," replies the rotund lady, somewhat laconically, "the happiest +days of my life were spent among the chivalry of South Carolina. Indeed, +Madam, I have received the attention and honors of the very first +families in that State." + +This exclamation sets the venerable lady to thinking how it could be +possible that their highnesses received the attentions of the first +families and she not know it. No great persons ever visited the United +States without honoring Charleston with their presence, it was true; but +how in the world did it happen that she was kept in ignorance of such an +event as that of the Prince and Princess paying it a visit. She began to +doubt the friendship of her distinguished acquaintances, and the St. +Cecilia Society. She hopes that should they condescend to pay the United +States a second visit, they will remember her address. This the rotund +lady, who is no less a person than the distinguished Madame Flamingo, +begs to assure her she will. + +Let not this happy union between Grouski and the old hostess, surprise +you, gentle reader. It was brought about by Mr. Snivel, the +accommodation man, who, as you have before seen, is always ready to do a +bit of a good turn. Being a skilful diplomatist in such matters, he +organized the convention, superintended the wooing, and for a lusty +share of the spoils, secured to him by Grouski, brought matters to an +issue "highly acceptable" to all parties. A sale of her palace of +licentiousness, works of art, costly furniture, and female wares, +together with the good will of all concerned, (her friends of the "bench +and bar" not excepted,) was made for the nice little sum of sixty-seven +thousand dollars, to Madame Grace Ashley, whose inauguration was one of +the most gorgeous _fetes_ the history of Charleston can boast. The new +occupant was a novice. She had not sufficient funds to pay ready money +for the purchase, hence Mr. Doorwood, a chivalric and very excellent +gentleman, according to report, supplies the necessary, taking a +mortgage on the institution; which proves to be quite as good property +as the Bank, of which he is president. It is not, however, just that +sort of business upon which an already seared conscience can repose in +quiet, hence he applies that antidote too frequently used by knaves--he +never lets a Sunday pass without piously attending church. + +The money thus got, through this long life of iniquity, was by Madame +Flamingo handed over to the Prince, in exchange for his heart and the +title she had been deluded to believe him capable of conferring. Her +reverence for Princes and exiled heroes, (who are generally exiled +humbugs,) was not one jot less than that so pitiably exhibited by our +self-dubbed fashionable society all over this Union. It may be well to +add, that this distinguished couple, all smiling and loving, are on +their way to Europe, where they are sure of receiving the attentions of +any quantity of "crowned heads." Mr. Snivel, in order not to let the +affair lack that _eclat_ which is the crowning point in matters of high +life, got smuggled into the columns of the highly respectable and very +authentic old "Courier," a line or two, in which the fashionable world +was thrown into a flutter by the announcement that Prince Grouski and +his wealthy bride left yesterday, _en route_ for Europe. This bit of +gossip the "New York Herald" caught up and duly itemised, for the +benefit of its upper-ten readers, who, as may be easily imagined, were +all on tip-toe to know the address of visitors so distinguished, and +leave cards. + +Mrs. Swiggs has (we must return to her mission) scarcely set foot on +shore, when, thanks to a little-headed corporation, she is fairly set +upon by a dozen or more villanous hack-drivers, each dangling his whip +in her face, to the no small danger of her bonnet and spectacles. They +jostle her, utter vile imprecations, dispute for the right of carrying +her, each in his turn offering to do it a shilling less. Lady Swiggs is +indeed an important individual in the hands of the hack-drivers, and by +them, in a fair way of being torn to pieces. She wonders they do not +recognize her as a distinguished person, from the chivalric State of +South Carolina. The captain is engaged with his ship, passengers are +hurrying ashore, too anxious to escape the confinement of the cabin; +every one seems in haste to leave her, no one offers to protect her from +the clutches of those who threaten to tear her into precious pieces. She +sighs for Sister Slocum, for Mr. Hadger, for any one kind enough to +raise a friendly voice in her behalf. Now one has got her black box, +another her corpulent carpet-bag--a third exults in a victory over her +band-box. Fain would she give up her mission in disgust, return to the +more aristocratic atmosphere of Charleston, and leave the heathen to his +fate. All this might have been avoided had Sister Slocum sent her +carriage. She will stick by her black-box, nevertheless. So into the +carriage with it she gets, much discomfited. The driver says he would +drive to the Mayor's office "and 'ave them ar two coves what's got the +corpulent carpet-bag and the band-box, seed after, if it wern't that His +Honor never knows anything he ought to know, and is sure to do nothing. +They'll turn up, Mam, I don't doubt," says the man, "but it's next to +los'in' on 'em, to go to the Mayor's office. Our whole corporation, Mam, +don't do nothin' but eats oysters, drinks whiskey, and makes +presidents;--them's what they do, Marm." Lady Swiggs says what a pity so +great a city was not blessed with a bigger-headed corporation. + +"That it is, Marm," returns the methodical hack-driver, "he an't got a +very big head, our corporation." And Lady Swiggs, deprived of her +carpet-bag and band-box, and considerably out of patience, is rolled +away to the mansion of Sister Slocum, on Fourth Avenue. Instead of +falling immediately into the arms and affections of that worthy and very +enterprising lady, the door is opened by a slatternly maid of all +work--her greasy dress, and hard, ruddy face and hands--her short, +flabby figure, and her coarse, uncombed hair, giving out strong evidence +of being overtaxed with labor. "Is it Mrs. Slocum hersel' ye'd be +seein'?" inquires the maid, wiping her soapy hands with her apron, and +looking querulously in the face of the old lady, who, with the air of a +Scotch metaphysician, says she is come to spend a week in friendly +communion with her, to talk over the cause of the poor, benighted +heathen. "Troth an' I'm not as sure ye'll do that same, onyhow; sure +she'd not spend a week at home in the blessed year; and the divil +another help in the house but mysel' and himsel', Mr. Slocum. A decent +man is that same Slocum, too," pursues the maid, with a laconic +indifference to the wants of the guest. A dusty hat-stand ornaments one +side of the hall, a patched and somewhat deformed sofa the other. The +walls wear a dingy air; the fumes of soapsuds and stewed onions offend +the senses. Mrs. Swiggs hesitates in the doorway. Shall I advance, or +retreat to more congenial quarters? she asks herself. The wily +hack-driver (he agreed for four and charged her twelve shillings) leaves +her black box on the step and drives away. She may be thankful he did +not charge her twenty. They make no allowance for distinguished people; +Lady Swiggs learns this fact, to her great annoyance. To the +much-confused maid of all work she commences relating the loss of her +luggage. With one hand swinging the door and the other tucked under her +dowdy apron, she says, "Troth, Mam, and ye ought to be thankful, for the +like of that's done every day." + +Mrs. Swiggs would like a room for the night at least, but is told, in a +somewhat confused style, that not a room in the house is in order. That +a person having the whole heathen world on her shoulders should not have +her house in order somewhat surprises the indomitable lady. In answer to +a question as to what time Mr. Slocum will be home, the maid of all work +says: "Och! God love the poor man, there's no tellin'. Sure there's not +much left of the poor man. An' the divil a one more inoffensive than +poor Slocum. It's himsel' works all day in the Shurance office beyant. +He comes home dragged out, does a dale of writing for Mrs. Slocum +hersel', and goes to bed sayin' nothin' to nobody." Lady Swiggs says: +"God bless me He no doubt labors in a good cause--an excellent +cause--he will have his reward hereafter." + +It must here be confessed that Sister Slocum, having on hand a +newly-married couple, nicely suited to the duties of a mission to some +foreign land, has conceived the very laudable project of sending them to +Aleppo, and is now spending a few weeks among the Dutch of Albany, who +are expected to contribute the necessary funds. A few thousand dollars +expended, a few years' residence in the East, a few reports as to what +might have been done if something had not interposed to prevent it, and +there is not a doubt that this happy couple will return home crowned +with the laurels of having very nearly Christianized one Turk and two +Tartars. + +The maid of all work suddenly remembers that Mrs. Slocum left word that +if a distinguished lady arrived from South Carolina she could be +comfortably accommodated at Sister Scudder's, on Fourth Street. Not a +little disappointed, the venerable old lady calls a passing carriage, +gets herself and black box into it, and orders the driver to forthwith +proceed to the house of Sister Scudder. Here she is--and she sheds tears +that she is--cooped up in a cold, closet-like room, on the third story, +where, with the ends of her red shawl, she may blow and warm her +fingers. Sister Scudder is a crispy little body, in spectacles. Her +features are extremely sharp, and her countenance continually wears a +wise expression. As for her knowledge of scripture, it is truly +wonderful, and a decided improvement when contrasted with the meagre +set-out of her table. Tea time having arrived, Lady Swiggs is invited +down to a cup by a pert Irish servant, who accosts her with an +independence she by no means approves. Entering the room with an air of +stateliness she deems necessary to the position she desires to maintain, +Sister Scudder takes her by the hand and introduces her to a bevy of +nicely-conditioned, and sleek-looking gentlemen, whose exactly-combed +mutton chop whiskers, smoothly-oiled hair, perfectly-tied white cravats, +cloth so modest and fashionable, and mild, studious countenances, +discover their profession. Sister Scudder, motioning Lady Swiggs aside, +whispers in her ear: "They are all very excellent young men. They will +improve on acquaintance. They are come up for the clergy." They, in +turn, receive the distinguished stranger in a manner that is rather +abrupt than cold, and ere she has dispensed her stately courtesy, say; +"how do you do marm," and turn to resume with one another their +conversation on the wicked world. It is somewhat curious to see how much +more interested these gentry become in the wicked world when it is afar +off. + +Tea very weak, butter very strong, toast very thin, and religious +conversation extremely thick, make up the repast. There is no want of +appetite. Indeed one might, under different circumstances, have imagined +Sister Scudder's clerical boarders contesting a race for an extra slice +of her very thin toast. Not the least prominent among Sister Scudder's +boarders is Brother Singleton Spyke, whom Mrs. Swiggs recognizes by the +many compliments he lavishes upon Sister Slocum, whose absence is a +source of great regret with him. She is always elbow deep in some +laudable pursuit. Her presence sheds a radiant light over everything +around; everybody mourns her when absent. Nevertheless, there is some +satisfaction in knowing that her absence is caused by her anxiety to +promote some mission of good: Brother Spyke thus muses. Seeing that +there is come among them a distinguished stranger, he gives out that +to-morrow evening there will be a gathering of the brethren at the +"House of the Foreign Missions," when the very important subject of +funds necessary to his mission to Antioch, will be discussed. Brother +Spyke, having levelled this battery at the susceptibility of Mrs. +Swiggs, is delighted to find some fourteen voices chiming in--all +complimenting his peculiar fitness for, and the worthy object of the +mission. Mrs. Swiggs sets her cup in her saucer, and in a becoming +manner, to the great joy of all present, commences an eulogium on Mr. +Spyke. Sister Slocum, in her letters, held him before her in strong +colors; spoke in such high praise of his talent, and gave so many +guarantees as to what he would do if he only got among the heathen, that +her sympathies were enlisted--she resolved to lose no time in getting to +New York, and, when there, put her shoulder right manfully to the wheel. +This declaration finds her, as if by some mysterious transport, an +object of no end of praise. Sister Scudder adjusts her spectacles, and, +in mildest accents, says, "The Lord will indeed reward such +disinterestedness." Brother Mansfield says motives so pure will ensure a +passport to heaven, he is sure. Brother Sharp, an exceedingly lean and +tall youth, with a narrow head and sharp nose (Mr. Sharp's father +declared he made him a preacher because he could make him nothing else), +pronounces, with great emphasis, that such self-sacrifice should be +written in letters of gold. A unanimous sounding of her praises +convinces Mrs. Swiggs that she is indeed a person of great importance. +There is, however, a certain roughness of manner about her new friends, +which does not harmonize with her notions of aristocracy. She questions +within herself whether they represent the "first families" of New York. +If the "first families" could only get their heads together, the heathen +world would be sure to knock under. No doubt, it can be effected in time +by common people. If Sister Slocum, too, would evangelize the world--if +she would give the light of heaven to the benighted, she must employ +willing hearts and strong hands. Satan, she says, may be chained, +subdued, and made to abjure his wickedness. These cheering +contemplations more than atone for the cold reception she met at the +house of Sister Slocum. Her only regret now is that she did not sell old +Cicero. The money so got would have enabled her to bestow a more +substantial token of her soul's sincerity. + +Tea over, thanks returned, a prayer offered up, and Brother Spyke, +having taken a seat on the sofa beside Mrs. Swiggs, opens his batteries +in a spiritual conversation, which he now and then spices with a few +items of his own history. At the age of fifteen he found himself in love +with a beautiful young lady, who, unfortunately, had made up her mind to +accept only the hand of a clergyman: hence, she rejected his. This so +disturbed his thoughts, that he resolved on studying theology. In this +he was aided by the singular discovery, that he had a talent, and a +"call to preach." He would forget his amour, he thought, become a member +of the clergy, and go preach to the heathen. He spent his days in +reading, his nights in the study of divine truths. Then he got on the +kind side of a committee of very excellent ladies, who, having duly +considered his qualities, pronounced him exactly suited to the study of +theology. Ladies were generally good judges of such matters, and Brother +Spyke felt he could not do better than act up to their opinions. To all +these things Mrs. Swiggs listens with delight. + +Spyke, too, is in every way a well made-up man, being extremely tall and +lean of figure, with nice Saxon hair and whiskers, mild but thoughtful +blue eyes, an anxious expression of countenance, a thin, squeaking +voice, and features sufficiently delicate and regular for his calling. +His dress, too, is always exactly clerical. If he be cold and pedantic +in his manner, the fault must be set down to the errors of the +profession, rather than to any natural inclination of his own. But what +is singular of Brother Spyke is, that, notwithstanding his passion for +delving the heathen world, and dragging into Christian light and love +the benighted wretches there found, he has never in his life given a +thought for that heathen world at his own door--a heathen world sinking +in the blackest pool of misery and death, in the very heart of an +opulent city, over which it hurls its seething pestilence, and scoffs at +the commands of high heaven. No, he never thought of that Babylon of +vice and crime--that heathen world pleading with open jaws at his own +door. He had no thought for how much money might be saved, and how much +more good done, did he but turn his eyes; go into this dark world (the +Points) pleading at his feet, nerve himself to action, and lend a strong +hand to help drag off the film of its degradation. In addition to this, +Brother Spyke was sharp enough to discover the fact that a country +parson does not enjoy the most enviable situation. A country parson must +put up with the smallest salary; he must preach the very best of +sermons; he must flatter and flirt with all the marriageable ladies of +his church; he must consult the tastes, but offend none of the old +ladies; he must submit to have the sermon he strained his brain to make +perfect, torn to pieces by a dozen wise old women, who claim the right +of carrying the church on their shoulders; he must have dictated to him +what sort of dame he may take for wife;--in a word, he must bear meekly +a deal of pestering and starvation, or be in bad odor with the senior +members of the sewing circle. Duly appreciating all these difficulties, +Brother Spyke chose a mission to Antioch, where the field of his labors +would be wide, and the gates not open to restraints. And though he could +not define the exact character of his mission to Antioch, he so worked +upon the sympathies of the credulous old lady, as to well-nigh create in +her mind a resolve to give the amount she had struggled to get and set +apart for the benefit of those two institutions ("the Tract Society," +and "The Home of the Foreign Missions"), all to the getting himself off +to Antioch. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + +MR. SNIVEL PURSUES HIS SEARCH FOR THE VOTE-CRIBBER. + + +While Mrs. Swiggs is being entertained by Sister Scudder and her +clerical friends in New York, Mr. Snivel is making good his demand on +her property in Charleston. As the agent of Keepum, he has attached her +old slaves, and what few pieces of furniture he could find; they will in +a few days be sold for the satisfaction of her debts. Mrs. Swiggs, it +must be said, never had any very nice appreciation of debt-paying, +holding it much more legitimate that her creditors accept her dignity in +satisfaction of any demand they chanced to have against her. As for her +little old house, the last abode of the last of the great Swiggs +family,--that, like numerous other houses of our "very first families," +is mortgaged for more than it is worth, to Mr. Staple the grocer. We +must, however, turn to Mr. Snivel. + +Mr. Snivel is seen, on the night after the secret interview at the +Charleston Hotel, in a happy mood, passing down King street. A little, +ill-featured man, with a small, but florid face, a keen, lecherous eye, +leans on his arm. They are in earnest conversation. + +"I think the mystery is nearly cleared up, Keepum" says Snivel. + +"There seems no getting a clue to the early history of this Madame +Montford, 'tis true. Even those who introduced her to Charleston society +know nothing of her beyond a certain period. All anterior to that is +wrapped in suspicion," returns Keepum, fingering his massive gold chain +and seals, that pend from his vest, then releasing his hold of Mr. +Snivel's arm, and commencing to button closely his blue dress coat, +which is profusely decorated with large gilt buttons. "She's the mother +of the dashing harlot, or I'm no prophet, nevertheless," he concludes, +shaking his head significantly. + +"You may almost swear it--a bad conscience is a horrid bore; d--n me, if +I can't see through the thing. (Mr. Snivel laughs.) Better put our +female friends on their guard, eh?" + +"They had better drop her as quietly as possible," rejoins Mr. Keepum, +drawing his white glove from off his right hand, and extending his cigar +case. + +Mr. Snivel having helped himself to a cigar, says: "D--n me, if she +didn't faint in my arms last night. I made a discovery that brought +something of deep interest back to her mind, and gave her timbers such a +shock! I watched, and read the whole story in her emotions. One +accustomed to the sharps of the legal profession can do this sort of +thing. She is afraid of approaching this beautiful creature, Anna +Bonard, seeing the life she lives, and the suspicions it might create in +fashionable society, did she pursue such a course to the end of finding +out whether she be really the lost child of the relative she refers to +so often. Her object is to find one Mag Munday, who used to knock about +here, and with whom the child was left. But enough of this for the +present." Thus saying, they enter the house of the old antiquary, and +finding no one but Maria at home, Mr. Snivel takes the liberty of +throwing his arms about her waist. This done, he attempts to drag her +across the room and upon the sofa. "Neither your father nor you ever had +a better friend," he says, as the girl struggles from his grasp, shrinks +at his feet, and, with a look of disdain, upbraids him for his attempt +to take advantage of a lone female. + +"High, ho!" interposes Keepum, "what airs these sort of people put on, +eh? Don't amount to much, no how; they soon get over them, you know. A +blasted deal of assumption, as you say. Ha, ha, ha! I rather like this +sort of modesty. 'Tisn't every one can put it cleverly." Mr. Snivel +winks to Keepum, who makes an ineffectual attempt to extinguish the +light, which Maria seizes in her hand, and summoning her courage, stands +before them in a defiant attitude, an expression of hate and scorn on +her countenance. "Ah, fiend! you take this liberty--you seek to destroy +me because I am poor--because you think me humble--an easy object to +prey upon. I am neither a stranger to the world nor your cowardly +designs; and so long as I have life you shall not gloat over the +destruction of my virtue. Approach me at your peril--knaves! You have +compromised my father; you have got him in your grasp, that you may the +more easily destroy me. But you will be disappointed, your perfidy will +recoil on yourselves: though stripped of all else, I will die protecting +that virtue you would not dare to offend but for my poverty." This +unexpected display of resolution has the effect of making the position +of the intruders somewhat uncomfortable. Mr. Keepum, whose designs +Snivel would put in execution, sinks, cowardly, upon the sofa, while his +compatriot (both are celebrated for their chivalry) stands off apace +endeavoring to palliate the insult with facetious remarks. (This +chivalry of ours is a mockery, a convenient word in the foul mouths of +fouler ruffians.) Mr. Snivel makes a second attempt to overcome the +unprotected girl. With every expression of hate and scorn rising to her +face, she bids him defiance. Seeing himself thus firmly repulsed, he +begs to assure her, on the word of a gentleman--a commodity always on +hand, and exceedingly cheap with us--he was far from intending an +insult. He meant it for a bit of a good turn--nothing more. "Always +fractious at first--these sort of people are," pursues Keepum, +relighting his cigar as he sits on the sofa, squinting his right eye. +"Take bravely to gentlemen after a little display of modesty--always! +Try her again, Squire." Mr. Snivel dashes the candle from her hand, and +in the darkness grasps her wrists. The enraged girl shrieks, and calls +aloud for assistance. Simultaneously a blow fells Mr. Snivel to the +floor. The voice of Tom Swiggs is heard, crying: "Wretch! villain!--what +brings you here? (Mr. Keepum, like the coward, who fears the vengeance +he has merited, makes good his escape.) Will you never cease polluting +the habitations of the poor? Would to God there was justice for the +poor, as well as law for the rich; then I would make thee bite the dust, +like a dying viper. You should no longer banquet on poor virtue. +Wretch!--I would teach thee that virtue has its value with the poor as +well as the rich;--that with the true gentleman it is equally sacred." +Tom stands a few moments over the trembling miscreant, Maria sinks into +a chair, and with her elbows resting on the table, buries her face in +her hands and gives vent to her tears. + +"Never did criminal so merit punishment; but I will prove thee not worth +my hand. Go, wretch, go! and know that he who proves himself worthy of +entering the habitations of the humble is more to be prized than kings +and princes." Tom relights the candle in time to see Mr. Snivel rushing +into the street. + +The moon sheds a pale light over the city as the two chivalric +gentlemen, having rejoined and sworn to have revenge, are seen entering +a little gate that opens to a dilapidated old building, fronted by a +neglected garden, situate on the north side of Queen street, and in days +gone by called "Rogues' Retreat." "Rogues' Retreat" has scared vines +creeping over its black, clap-boarded front, which viewed from the +street appears in a squatting mood, while its broken door, closed +shutters--the neglected branches of grape vines that depend upon decayed +trellise and arbors, invest it with a forlorn air: indeed, one might +without prejudicing his faculties imagine it a fit receptacle for our +deceased politicians and our whiskey-drinking congressmen--the last +resting-place of our departed chivalry. Nevertheless, generous reader, +we will show you that "Rogues' Retreat" serves a very different purpose. +Our mob-politicians, who make their lungs and fists supply the want of +brains, use it as their favorite haunt, and may be seen on the eve of an +election passing in and out of a door in the rear. Hogsheads of bad +whiskey have been drunk in "Rogues' Retreat;" it reeks with the fumes of +uncounted cigars; it has been the scene of untold villanies. Follow us; +we will forego politeness, and peep in through a little, +suspicious-looking window, in the rear of the building. This window +looks into a cavern-like room, some sixteen feet by thirty, the ceiling +of which is low, and blotched here and there with lamp-smoke and +water-stains, the plastering hanging in festoons from the walls, and +lighted by the faint blaze of a small globular lamp, depending from the +centre, and shedding a lurid glare over fourteen grotesque faces, formed +round a broad deal-table. Here, at one side of the table sits Judge +Sleepyhorn, Milman Mingle, the vote-cribber, on his right; there, on the +other, sits Mr. Snivel and Mr. Keepum. More conspicuous than anything +else, stands, in the centre of the table, bottles and decanters of +whiskey, of which each man is armed with a stout glass. "I am as well +aware of the law as my friend who has just taken his seat can be. But we +all know that the law can be made subordinate; and it must be made +subordinate to party ends. We must not (understand me, I do not say this +in my judicial capacity) be too scrupulous when momentous issues are +upon us. The man who has not nerve enough to make citizens by the +dozen--to stuff double-drawered ballot-boxes, is not equal to the times +we live in;--this is a great moral fact." This is said by the Judge, +who, having risen with an easy air, sits down and resumes his glass and +cigar. + +"Them's my sentiments--exactly," interposes the vote-cribber, his burly, +scarred face, and crispy red hair and beard, forming a striking picture +in the pale light. "I have given up the trade of making Presidents, what +I used to foller when, you see, I lived in North Caroliner; but, I tell +you on the faith of my experience, that to carry the day we must let the +law slide, and crib with a free chain: there's no gettin' over this." + +"It is due," interrupts the Judge, again rising to his feet and bowing +to the cribber, "to this worthy man, whose patriotism has been tried so +often within prison-walls, that we give weight to his advice. He bears +the brunt of the battle like a hero--he is a hero!" (The vote-cribber +acknowledges the compliment by filling his glass and drinking to the +Judge.) + +"Of this worthy gentleman I have, as a member of the learned profession, +an exalted opinion. His services are as necessary to our success as +steam to the speed of a locomotive. I am in favor of leaving the law +entirely out of the question. What society sanctions as a means to party +ends, the law in most cases fails to reach," rejoins a tall, +sandy-complexioned man, of the name of Booper, very distinguished among +lawyers and ladies. Never was truth spoken with stronger testimony at +hand. Mr. Keepum could boast of killing two poor men; Mr. Snivel could +testify to the fallacy of the law by gaining him an honorable acquittal. +There were numerous indictments against Mr. Keepum for his dealings in +lottery tickets, but they found their way into the Attorney-General's +pocket, and it was whispered he meant to keep them there. It was indeed +pretty well known he could not get them out in consequence of the gold +Keepum poured in. Not a week passes but men kill each other in the open +streets. We call these little affairs, "rencontres;" the fact is, we are +become so accustomed to them that we rather like them, and regard them +as evidences of our advanced civilization. We are infested with +slave-hunters, and slave-killers, who daily disgrace us with their +barbarities; yet the law is weak when the victor is strong. So we +continue to live in the harmless belief that we are the most chivalrous +people in the world. + +"Mr. Booper!" ejaculates Mr. Snivel, knocking the ashes from his cigar +and rising to his feet, "you have paid no more than a merited +compliment to the masterly completeness of this excellent man's +cribbing. (He points to the cribber, and bows.) Now, permit me to say +here, I have at my disposal a set of fellows, (he smiles,) who can fight +their way into Congress, duplicate any system of sharps, and stand in +fear of nothing. Oh! gentlemen, (Mr. Snivel becomes enthusiastic.) I +was--as I have said, I believe--enjoying a bottle of champagne with my +friend Keepum here, when we overheard two Dutchmen--the Dutch always go +with the wrong party--discoursing about a villanous caucus held to-night +in King street. There is villany up with these Dutch! But, you see, +we--that is, I mean I--made some forty or more citizens last year. We +have the patent process; we can make as many this year." + +Mr. Sharp, an exceedingly clever politician, who has meekly born any +number of cudgellings at the polls, and hopes ere long to get the +appointment of Minister to Paris, interrupts by begging that Mr. Soloman +will fill his glass, and resume his seat. Mr. Snivel having taking his +seat, Mr. Sharp proceeds: "I tell you all what it is, says I, the other +day to a friend--these ponderous Dutch ain't to be depended on. Then, +says I, you must separate the Irish into three classes, and to each +class you must hold out a different inducement, says I. There's the Rev. +Father Flaherty, says I, and he is a trump card at electioneering. He +can form a breach between his people and the Dutch, and, says I, by the +means of this breach we will gain the whole tribe of Emeralds over to +our party. I confess I hate these vagabonds right soundly; but necessity +demands that we butter and sugar the mover until we carry our ends. You +must not look at the means, says I, when the ends are momentous." + +"The staunch Irish," pursues the Judge, rising as Mr. Sharp sits down, +"are noble fellows, and with us. To the middle class--the grocers and +shopkeepers--we must, however, hold out flattering inducements; such as +the reduction of taxes, the repeal of our oppressive license laws, +taking the power out of the hands of our aristocracy--they are very +tender here--and giving equal rights to emigrants. These points we must +put as Paul did his sermons--with force and ingenuity. As for the low +Irish, all we have to do is to crib them, feed and pickle them in +whiskey for a week. To gain an Irishman's generosity, you cannot use a +better instrument than meat, drink, and blarney. I often contemplate +these fellows when I am passing sentence upon them for crime." + +"True! I have the same dislike to them personally; but politically, the +matter assumes quite a different form of attraction. The laboring +Irish--the dull-headed--are what we have to do with. We must work them +over, and over, and over, until we get them just right. Then we must +turn them all into legal voting citizens--" + +"That depends on how long they have been in the country," interrupts a +brisk little man, rising quickly to his feet, and assuming a legal air. + +"Mr. Sprig! you are entirely behind the age. It matters not how long +these gentlemen from Ireland have been in the country. They take to +politics like rats to good cheese. A few months' residence, and a little +working over, you know, and they become trump voters. The Dutch are a +different sort of animal; the fellows are thinkers," resumes the Judge. + +Mr. Snivel, who has been sipping his whiskey, and listening very +attentively to the Judge, rises to what he calls the most important +order. He has got the paper all ready, and proposes the gentlemen he +thinks best qualified for the naturalization committee. This done, Mr. +Snivel draws from his pocket a copy of the forged papers, which are +examined, and approved by every one present. This instrument is +surmounted with the eagle and arms of the United States, and reads thus: + + "_STATE OF NEW YORK_. + + "In the Court of Common Pleas for the city and county of New York: + + "I---- do declare on oath, that it is _bona fide_ my intention to + become a citizen of the United States, and to renounce forever all + allegiance and fidelity to any foreign prince, potentate, State or + sovereignty whatever, and particularly to the Queen of the United + Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland, of whom I am a subject." + + Signed this---- day of---- 184-. + + JAMES CONNOR, Clerk. + + "Clerk's office, Court of Common Pleas for the city and county of + New York." + + "I hereby certify that the foregoing is a true copy of an original + declaration of intention remaining on record in my office, &c., + &c., &c." + +"There! it required skill and practice to imitate like that" Mr. Snivel +exultingly exclaims. "We require to make thirty-seven citizens, and have +prepared the exact number of papers. If the cribbers do their duty, the +day is ours." Thus is revealed one of the scenes common to "Rogues' +Retreat." We shrink at the multiplicity of crime in our midst; we too +seldom trace the source from whence it flows. If we did but turn our +eyes in the right direction we would find the very men we have elected +our guardians, protecting the vicious, whose power they +covet--sacrificing their high trust to a low political ambition. You +cannot serve a political end by committing a wrong without inflicting a +moral degradation on some one. Political intrigue begets laxity of +habits; it dispels that integrity without which the unfixed mind becomes +vicious; it acts as a festering sore in the body politic. + +Having concluded their arrangements for the Mayor's election, the party +drinks itself into a noisy mood, each outshouting the other for the +right to speak, each refilling and emptying his glass, each asserting +with vile imprecations, his dignity as a gentleman. Midnight finds the +reeling party adjourning in the midst of confusion. + +Mr. Snivel winks the vote-cribber into a corner, and commences +interrogating him concerning Mag Munday. The implacable face of the +vote-cribber reddens, he contorts his brows, frets his jagged beard with +the fingers of his left hand, runs his right over the crown of his head, +and stammers: "I know'd her, lived with her--she used to run sort of +wild, and was twice flogged. She got crazed at last!" He shrugs his +stalworth shoulders and pauses. "Being a politician, you see, a body +can't divest their minds of State affairs sufficiently to keep up on +women matters," he pursues: "She got into the poor-house, that I +knows--" + +"She is dead then?" interposes Mr. Snivel. + +"As like as not. The poor relatives of our 'first families' rot and die +there without much being said about it. Just look in at that +institution--it's a terrible place to kill folks off!--and if she be not +there then come to me. Don't let the keepers put you off. Pass through +the outer gate, into and through the main building, then turn sharp to +the left, and advance some twenty feet up a filthy passage, then enter a +passage on the right, (have a light with you,) that leads to a dozen or +fourteen steps, wet and slippery. Then you must descend into a sort of +grotto, or sickly vault, which you will cross and find yourself in a +spacious passage, crawling with beetles and lizards. Don't be +frightened, sir; keep on till you hear moanings and clankings of chains. +Then you will come upon a row of horrid cells, only suited for dog +kennels. In these cells our crazy folks are chained and left to die. +Give Glentworthy a few shillings for liquor, sir, and he, having these +poor devils in charge, will put you through. It's a terrible place, sir, +but our authorities never look into it, and few of our people know of +its existence." + +Mr. Snivel thanks the vote-cribber, who pledges his honor he would +accompany him, but for the reason that he opens crib to-morrow, and has +in his eye a dozen voters he intends to look up. He has also a few +recently-arrived sons of the Emerald Isle he purposes turning into +citizens. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +MRS. SWIGGS FALLS UPON A MODERN HEATHEN WORLD. + + +Purged of all the ill-humors of her mind, Mrs. Swiggs finds herself, on +the morning following the excellent little gathering at Sister +Scudder's, restored to the happiest of tempers. The flattery +administered by Brother Spyke, and so charmingly sprinkled with his +pious designs on the heathen world, has had the desired effect. This +sort of drug has, indeed, a wonderful efficacy in setting disordered +constitutions to rights. It would not become us to question the +innocence, or the right to indulge in such correctives; it is enough +that our venerable friend finds herself in a happy vein, and is resolved +to spend the day for the benefit of that heathen world, the darkness of +which Brother Spyke pictured in colors so terrible. + +Breakfast is scarcely over when Sister Slocum, in great agitation, comes +bustling into the parlor, offers the most acceptable apologies for her +absence, and pours forth such a vast profusion of solicitude for Mrs. +Swiggs' welfare, that that lady is scarce able to withstand the +kindness. She recounts the numerous duties that absorb her attention, +the missions she has on hand, the means she uses to keep up an interest +in them, the amount of funds necessary to their maintenance. A large +portion of these funds she raises with her own energy. She will drag up +the heathen world; she will drag down Satan. Furnishing Mrs. Swiggs +with the address of the House of the Foreign Missions, in Centre street, +she excuses herself. How superlatively happy she would be to accompany +Mrs. Swiggs. A report to present to the committee on finance, she +regrets, will prevent this. However, she will join her precisely at +twelve o'clock, at the House. She must receive the congratulations of +the Board. She must have a reception that will show how much the North +respects her co-laborers of the South. And with this, Sister Slocum +takes leave of her guest, assuring her that all she has to do is to get +into the cars in the Bowery. They will set her down at the door. + +Ten o'clock finds our indomitable lady, having preferred the less +expensive mode of walking, entering a strange world. Sauntering along +the Bowery she turns down Bayard street. Bayard street she finds lined +with filthy looking houses, swarming with sickly, ragged, and besotted +poor; the street is knee-deep with corrupting mire; carts are tilted +here and there at intervals; the very air seems hurling its pestilence +into your blood. Ghastly-eyed and squalid children, like ants in quest +of food, creep and swarm over the pavement, begging for bread or +uttering profane oaths at one another. Mothers who never heard the Word +of God, nor can be expected to teach it to their children, protrude +their vicious faces from out reeking gin shops, and with bare breasts +and uncombed hair, sweep wildly along the muddy pavement, disappear into +some cavern-like cellar, and seek on some filthy straw a resting place +for their wasting bodies. A whiskey-drinking Corporation might feast its +peculative eyes upon hogs wallowing in mud; and cellars where swarming +beggars, for six cents a night, cover with rags their hideous +heads--where vice and crime are fostered, and into which your sensitive +policeman prefers not to go, are giving out their seething miasma. The +very neighborhood seems vegetating in mire. In the streets, in the +cellars, in the filthy lanes, in the dwellings of the honest poor, as +well as the vicious, muck and mire is the predominating order. The +besotted remnants of depraved men, covered with rags and bedaubed with +mire, sit, half sleeping in disease and hunger on decayed door-stoops. +Men with bruised faces, men with bleared eyes, men in whose every +feature crime and dissipation is stamped, now drag their waning bodies +from out filthy alleys, as if to gasp some breath of air, then drag +themselves back, as if to die in a desolate hiding-place. Engines of +pestilence and death the corporation might see and remove, if it would, +are left here to fester--to serve a church-yard as gluttonous as its own +belly. The corporation keeps its eyes in its belly, its little sense in +its big boots, and its dull action in the whiskey-jug. Like Mrs. Swiggs, +it cannot afford to do anything for this heathen world in the heart of +home. No, sir! The corporation has the most delicate sense of its +duties. It is well paid to nurture the nucleus of a pestilence that may +some day break out and sweep over the city like an avenging enemy. It +thanks kind Providence, eating oysters and making Presidents the while, +for averting the dire scourge it encourages with its apathy. Like our +humane and very fashionable preachers, it contents itself with looking +into the Points from Broadway. What more would you ask of it? + +Mrs. Swiggs is seized with fear and trembling. Surely she is in a world +of darkness. Can it be that so graphically described by Brother +Syngleton Spyke? she questions within herself. It might, indeed, put +Antioch to shame: but the benighted denizens with which it swarms speak +her own tongue. "It is a deal worse in Orange street,[3] Marm--a deal, I +assure you!" speaks a low, muttering voice. Lady Swiggs is startled. She +only paused a moment to view this sea of vice and wretchedness she finds +herself surrounded with. Turning quickly round she sees before her a +man, or what there is left of a man. His tattered garments, his lean, +shrunken figure, his glassy eyes, and pale, haggard face, cause her to +shrink back in fright. He bows, touches his shattered hat, and says, "Be +not afraid good Madam. May I ask if you have not mistaken your way?" +Mrs. Swiggs looks querulously through her spectacles and says, "Do tell +me where I am?" "In the Points, good Madam. You seem confused, and I +don't wonder. It's a dreadful place. I know it, madam, to my sorrow." +There is a certain politeness in the manner of this man--an absence of +rudeness she is surprised to find in one so dejected. The red, distended +nose, the wild expression of his countenance, his jagged hair, hanging +in tufts over his ragged coat collar, give him a repulsiveness not +easily described. In answer to an inquiry he says, "They call me, Madam, +and I'm contented with the name,--they call me Tom Toddleworth, the +Chronicle. I am well down--not in years, but sorrow. Being sick of the +world I came here, have lived, or rather drifted about, in this sea of +hopeless misery, homeless and at times foodless, for ten years or more. +Oh! I have seen better days, Madam. You are a stranger here. May God +always keep you a stranger to the sufferings of those who dwell with us. +I never expect to be anything again, owe nothing to the world, and +never go into Broadway." + +[Footnote 3: Now called Baxter street] + +"Never go into Broadway," repeats Mrs. Swiggs, her fingers wandering to +her spectacles. Turning into Orange street, Mr. Toddleworth tenders his +services in piloting Mrs. Swiggs into Centre street, which, as he adds, +will place her beyond harm. As they advance the scene becomes darker and +darker. Orange street seems that centre from which radiates the avenues +of every vice known to a great city. One might fancy the world's +outcasts hurled by some mysterious hand into this pool of crime and +misery, and left to feast their wanton appetites and die. "And you have +no home, my man?" says Mrs. Swiggs, mechanically. "As to that, Madam," +returns the man, with a bow, "I can't exactly say I have no home. I kind +of preside over and am looked up to by these people. One says, 'come +spend a night with me, Mr. Toddleworth,' another says, 'come spend a +night with me, Mr. Tom Toddleworth.' I am a sort of respectable man with +them, have a place to lay down free, in any of their houses. They all +esteem me, and say, come spend a night with me, Mr. Toddleworth. It's +very kind of them. And whenever they get a drop of gin I'm sure of a +taste. Surmising what I was once, they look up to me, you see. This +gives me heart." And as he says this he smiles, and draws about him the +ragged remnants of his coat, as if touched by shame. Arrived at the +corner of Orange street, Mr. Toddleworth pauses and begs his charge to +survey the prospect. Look whither she will nothing but a scene of +desolation--a Babylon of hideous, wasting forms, mucky streets, and +reeking dens, meet her eye. The Jews have arranged themselves on one +side of Orange street, to speculate on the wasted harlotry of the +other. "Look you, Madam!" says Mr. Toddleworth, leaning on his stick and +pointing towards Chatham street. "A desert, truly," replies the august +old lady, nervously twitching her head. She sees to the right ("it is +wantonness warring upon misery," says Mr. Toddleworth) a long line of +irregular, wooden buildings, black and besmeared with mud. Little houses +with decrepit doorsteps; little houses with decayed platforms in front; +little dens that seem crammed with rubbish; little houses with +black-eyed, curly-haired, and crooked-nosed children looking shyly about +the doors; little houses with lusty and lecherous-eyed Jewesses sitting +saucily in the open door; little houses with open doors, broken windows, +and shattered shutters, where the devil's elixir is being served to +ragged and besotted denizens; little houses into which women with +blotched faces slip suspiciously, deposit their almost worthless rags, +and pass out to seek the gin-shop; little houses with eagle-faced men +peering curiously out at broken windows, or beckoning some wayfarer to +enter and buy from their door; little houses piled inside with the +cast-off garments of the poor and dissolute, and hung outside with +smashed bonnets, old gowns, tattered shawls; flaunting--red, blue, and +yellow, in the wind, emblematic of those poor wretches, on the opposite +side, who have pledged here their last offerings, and blazed down into +that stage of human degradation, which finds the next step the +grave--all range along, forming a picturesque but sad panorama. Mr. +Moses, the man of the eagle face, who keeps the record of death, as the +neighbors call it, sits opulently in his door, and smokes his cigar; +while his sharp-eyed daughters estimate exactly how much it is safe to +advance on the last rag some lean wretch would pledge. He will tell you +just how long that brawny harlot, passing on the opposite side, will +last, and what the few rags on her back will be worth when she is +"shoved into Potters' Field." At the sign of the "Three Martyrs" Mr. +Levy is seen, in his fashionable coat, and a massive chain falling over +his tight waistcoat, registering the names of his grotesque customers, +ticketing their little packages, and advancing each a shilling or two, +which they will soon spend at the opposite druggery. Thus bravely wages +the war. London has nothing so besotted, Paris nothing so vicious, +Naples nothing so dark and despairing, as this heathen world we pass by +so heedlessly. Beside it even the purlieus of Rome sink into +insignificance. Now run your eye along the East side of Orange street. A +sidewalk sinking in mire; a long line of one-story wooden shanties, +ready to cave-in with decay; dismal looking groceries, in which the god, +gin, is sending his victims by hundreds to the greedy graveyard; +suspicious looking dens with dingy fronts, open doors, and windows +stuffed with filthy rags--in which crimes are nightly perpetrated, and +where broken-hearted victims of seduction and neglect, seeking here a +last refuge, are held in a slavery delicacy forbids our describing; dens +where negro dancers nightly revel, and make the very air re-echo their +profaning voices; filthy lanes leading to haunts up alleys and in narrow +passages, where thieves and burglars hide their vicious heads; +mysterious looking steps leading to cavern-like cellars, where swarm and +lay prostrate wretched beings made drunk by the "devil's elixir"--all +these beset the East side of Orange street. Wasted nature, blanched and +despairing, ferments here into one terrible pool. Women in +gaudy-colored dresses, their bared breasts and brawny arms contrasting +curiously with their wicked faces, hang lasciviously over "half-doors," +taunt the dreamy policeman on his round, and beckon the unwary stranger +into their dens. Piles of filth one might imagine had been thrown up by +the devil or the street commissioner, and in which you might bury a +dozen fat aldermen without missing one; little shops where unwholesome +food is sold; corner shops where idlers of every color, and sharpers of +all grades, sit dreaming out the day over their gin--are here to be +found. Young Ireland would, indeed, seem to have made this the citadel +from which to vomit his vice over the city. + +"They're perfectly wild, Madam--these children are," says Mr. +Toddleworth, in reply to a question Mrs. Swiggs put respecting the +immense number of ragged and profaning urchins that swarm the streets. +"They never heard of the Bible, nor God, nor that sort of thing. How +could they hear of it? No one ever comes in here--that is, they come in +now and then, and throw a bit of a tract in here and there, and are glad +to get out with a whole coat. The tracts are all Greek to the dwellers +here. Besides that, you see, something must be done for the belly, +before you can patch up the head. I say this with a fruitful experience. +A good, kind little man, who seems earnest in the welfare of these wild +little children that you see running about here--not the half of them +know their parents--looks in now and then, acts as if he wasn't afraid +of us, (that is a good deal, Madam) and the boys are beginning to take +to him. But, with nothing but his kind heart and earnest resolution, +he'll find a rugged mountain to move. If he move it, he will deserve a +monument of fairest marble erected to his memory, and letters of gold +to emblazon his deeds thereon. He seems to understand the key to some of +their affections. It's no use mending the sails without making safe the +hull." + +At this moment Mrs. Swiggs' attention is attracted by a crowd of ragged +urchins and grotesque-looking men, gathered about a heap of filth at +that corner of Orange street that opens into the Points. + +"They are disinterring his Honor, the Mayor," says Mr. Toddleworth. "Do +this sort of thing every day, Madam; they mean no harm, you see." + +Mrs. Swiggs, curious to witness the process of disinterring so +distinguished a person, forgets entirely her appointment at the House of +the Foreign Missions, crowds her way into the filthy throng, and watches +with intense anxiety a vacant-looking idiot, who has seen some sixteen +summers, lean and half clad, and who has dug with his staff a hole deep +in the mud, which he is busy piling up at the edges. + +"Deeper, deeper!" cries out a dozen voices, of as many mischievous +urchins, who are gathered round in a ring, making him the victim of +their sport. Having cast his glassy eyes upward, and scanned vacantly +his audience, he sets to work again, and continues throwing out dead +cats by the dozen, all of which he exults over, and pauses now and then +for the approbation of the bystanders, who declare they bear no +resemblance to his Honor, or any one of the Board of Aldermen. One +chubby urchin, with a bundle of _Tribunes_ under his arm, looks +mischievously into the pit, and says, "His 'Onor 'ill want the +_Tribune_." Another, of a more taciturn disposition, shrugs his +shoulders, gives his cap a pull over his eyes, and says, spicing his +declaration with an oath, "He'll buy two _Heralds_!--he will." The +taciturn urchin draws them from his bundle with an air of independence, +flaunts them in the face of his rival, and exults over their merits. A +splashing of mud, followed by a deafening shout, announces that the +persevering idiot has come upon the object he seeks. One proclaims to +his motley neighbors that the whole corporation is come to light; +another swears it is only his Honor and a dead Alderman. A third, more +astute than the rest, says it is only the head and body of the +Corporation--a dead pig and a decaying pumpkin! Shout after shout goes +up as the idiot, exultingly, drags out the prostrate pig, following it +with the pumpkin. Mr. Toddleworth beckons Lady Swiggs away. The +wicked-faced harlots are gathering about her in scores. One has just +been seen fingering her dress, and hurrying away, disappearing +suspiciously into an Alley. + +"You see, Madam," says Mr. Toddleworth, as they gain the vicinity of Cow +Bay, "it is currently reported, and believed by the dwellers here, that +our Corporation ate itself out of the world not long since; and seeing +how much they suffer by the loss of such--to have a dead Corporation in +a great city, is an evil, I assure you--an institution, they adopt this +method of finding it. It affords them no little amusement. These +swarming urchins will have the filthy things laid out in state, holding +with due ceremony an inquest over them, and mischievously proposing to +the first policeman who chances along, that he officiate as coroner. +Lady Swiggs has not a doubt that light might be valuably reflected over +this heathen world. Like many other very excellent ladies, however, she +has no candles for a heathen world outside of Antioch." + +Mr. Toddleworth escorts her safely into Centre street, and directs her +to the House of the Foreign Missions. + +"Thank you! thank you!--may God never let you want a shilling," he says, +bowing and touching his hat as Mrs. Swiggs puts four shillings into his +left hand. + +"One shilling, Madam," he pursues, with a smile, "will get me a new +collar. A clean collar now and then, it must be said, gives a body a +look of respectability." + +Mr. Toddleworth has a passion for new collars, regards them as a means +of sustaining his respectability. Indeed, he considers himself in full +dress with one mounted, no matter how ragged the rest of his wardrobe. +And when he walks out of a morning, thus conditioned, his friends greet +him with: "Hi! ho! Mister Toddleworth is uppish this morning." He has +bid his charge good morning, and hurries back to his wonted haunts. +There is a mysterious and melancholy interest in this man's history, +which many have attempted but failed to fathom. He was once heard to say +his name was not Toddleworth--that he had sunk his right name in his +sorrows. He was sentimental at times, always used good language, and +spoke like one who had seen better days and enjoyed a superior +education. He wanted, he would say, when in one of his melancholy moods, +to forget the world, and have the world forget him. Thus he shut himself +up in the Points, and only once or twice had he been seen in the Bowery, +and never in Broadway during his sojourn among the denizens who swarm +that vortex of death. How he managed to obtain funds, for he was never +without a shilling, was equally involved in mystery. He had no very bad +habits, seemed inoffensive to all he approached, spoke familiarly on +past events, and national affairs, and discovered a general knowledge of +the history of the world. And while he was always ready to share his +shilling with his more destitute associates, he ever maintained a degree +of politeness and civility toward those he was cast among not common to +the place. He was ready to serve every one, would seek out the sick and +watch over them with a kindness almost paternal, discovering a singular +familiarity with the duties of a physician. He had, however, an +inveterate hatred of fashionable wives; and whenever the subject was +brought up, which it frequently was by the denizens of the Points, he +would walk away, with a sigh. "Fashionable wives," he would mutter, his +eyes filling with tears, "are never constant. Ah! they have deluged the +world with sorrow, and sent me here to seek a hiding place." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + +IN WHICH THE VERY BEST INTENTIONS ARE SEEN TO FAIL. + + +The city clock strikes one as Mrs. Swiggs, nervous and weary, enters the +House of the Foreign Missions. Into a comfortably-furnished room on the +right, she is ushered by a man meekly dressed, and whose countenance +wears an expression of melancholy. Maps and drawings of Palestine, +Hindostan, and sundry other fields of missionary labor, hang here and +there upon the walls. These are alternated with nicely-framed engravings +and lithographs of Mission establishments in the East, all located in +some pretty grove, and invested with a warmth and cheerfulness that +cannot fail to make a few years' residence in them rather desirable than +otherwise. These in turn are relieved with portraits of distinguished +missionaries. Earnest-faced busts, in plaster, stand prominently about +the room, periodicals and papers are piled on little shelves, and bright +bookcases are filled with reports and various documents concerning the +society, all bound so exactly. The good-natured man of the kind face +sits in refreshing ease behind a little desk; the wise-looking lean man, +in the spectacles, is just in front of him, buried in ponderous folios +of reports. In the centre of the room stands a highly-polished mahogany +table, at which Brother Spyke is seated, his elbow rested, and his head +leaning thoughtfully in his hand. The rotund figure and energetic face +of Sister Slocum is seen, whisking about conspicuously among a bevy of +sleek but rather lean gentlemen, studious of countenance, and in modest +cloth. For each she has something cheerful to impart; each in his turn +has some compliment to bestow upon her. Several nicely-dressed, but +rather meek-looking ladies, two or three accompanied by their knitting +work, have arranged themselves on a settee in front of the wise man in +the spectacles. + +Scarcely has the representative of our chivalry entered the room when +Sister Slocum, with all the ardor of a lover of seventeen, runs to her +with open arms, embraces her, and kisses her with an affection truly +grateful. Choking to relate her curious adventure, she is suddenly +heaped with adulations, told how the time of her coming was looked to, +as an event of no common occurrence--how Brothers Sharp, Spyke, and +Phills, expressed apprehensions for her safety this morning, each in +turn offering in the kindest manner to get a carriage and go in pursuit. +The good-natured fat man gets down from his high seat, and receives her +with pious congratulations; the man in the spectacles looks askant, and +advances with extended hand. To use a convenient phrase, she is received +with open arms; and so meek and good is the aspect, that she finds her +thoughts transported to an higher, a region where only is bliss. +Provided with a seat in a conspicuous place, she is told to consider +herself the guest of the society. Sundry ovations, Sister Slocum gives +her to understand, will be made in her honor, ere long. The fact must +here be disclosed that Sister Slocum had prepared the minds of those +present for the reception of an embodiment of perfect generosity. + +No sooner has Lady Swiggs time to breathe freely, than she changes the +wondrous kind aspect of the assembly, and sends it into a paroxysm of +fright, by relating her curious adventure among the denizens of the +Points. Brother Spyke nearly makes up his mind to faint; the +good-natured fat man turns pale; the wise man in the spectacles is seen +to tremble; the neatly-attired females, so pious-demeanored, express +their horror of such a place; and Sister Slocum stands aghast. "Oh! +dear, Sister Swiggs," she says, "your escape from such a vile place is +truly marvellous! Thank God you are with us once more." The good-natured +fat man says, "A horrible world, truly!" and sighs. Brother Spyke shrugs +his shoulders, adding, "No respectable person here ever thinks of going +into such a place; the people there are so corrupt." Brother Sharp says +he shudders at the very thought of such a place. He has heard much said +of the dark deeds nightly committed in it--of the stubborn vileness of +the dwellers therein. God knows he never wants to descend into it. +"Truly," Brother Phills interposes, "I walked through it once, and +beheld with mine eyes such sights, such human deformity! O, God! Since +then, I am content to go to my home through Broadway. I never forget to +shudder when I look into the vile place from a distance, nevertheless." +Brother Phills says this after the manner of a philosopher, fretting his +fingers, and contorting his comely face the while. Sister Slocum, having +recovered somewhat from the shock (the shock had no permanent effect on +any of them), hopes Sister Swiggs did not lend an ear to their false +pleadings, nor distribute charity among the vile wretches. "Such would +be like scattering chaff to the winds," a dozen voices chime in. +"Indeed!" Lady Swiggs ejaculates, giving her head a toss, in token of +her satisfaction, "not a shilling, except to the miserable wretch who +showed me the way out. And he seemed harmless enough. I never met a more +melancholy object, never!" Brother Spyke raises his eyes imploringly, +and says he harbors no ill-will against these vile people, but +melancholy is an art with them--they make it a study. They affect it +while picking one's pocket. + +The body now resolves itself into working order. Brother Spyke offers up +a prayer. He thanks kind Providence for the happy escape of Sister +Swiggs--this generous woman whose kindness of heart has brought her +here--from among the hardened wretches who inhabit that slough of +despair, so terrible in all its aspects, and so disgraceful to a great +and prosperous city. He thanks Him who blessed him with the light of +learning--who endowed him with vigor and resolution--and told him to go +forth in armor, beating down Satan, and raising up the heathen world. A +mustering of spectacles follows. Sister Slocum draws from her bosom a +copy of the report the wise man in the spectacles rises to read. A +fashionable gold chain and gold-framed eye-glass is called to her aid; +and with a massive pencil of gold, she dots and points certain items of +dollars and cents her keen eye rests upon every now and then. + +The wise man in the spectacles rises, having exchanged glances with +Sister Slocum, and commences reading a very long, and in nowise lean +report. The anxious gentlemen draw up their chairs, and turn attentive +ears. For nearly an hour, he buzzes and bores the contents of this +report into their ears, takes sundry sips of water, and informs those +present, and the world in general, that nearly forty thousand dollars +have recently been consumed for missionary labor. The school at Corsica, +the missions at Canton, Ningpo, Pu-kong, Cassaba, Abheokuta, and sundry +other places, the names of which could not, by any possibility, aid the +reader in discovering their location--all, were doing as well as could +be expected, _under the circumstances_. After many years labor, and a +considerable expenditure of money, they were encouraged to go forward, +inasmuch as the children of the school at Corsica were beginning to +learn to read. At Casaba, Droneyo, the native scholar, had, after many +years' teaching, been made conscious of the sin of idol-worship, and had +given his solemn promise to relinquish it as soon as he could propitiate +two favorite gods bequeathed to him by his great uncle. The furnace of +"Satanic cruelty" had been broken down at Dahomey. Brother Smash had, +after several years' labor, and much expense--after having broken down +his health, and the health of many others--penetrated the dark regions +of Arabia, and there found the very seat of Satanic power. It was firmly +pegged to Paganism and Mahomedan darkness! This news the world was +expected to hail with consternation. Not one word is lisped about that +terrible devil holding his court of beggary and crime in the Points. He +had all his furnaces in full blast there; his victims were legion! No +Brother Spyke is found to venture in and drag him down. The region of +the Seven Churches offers inducements more congenial. Bound about them +all is shady groves, gentle breezes, and rural habitations; in the +Points the very air is thick with pestilence! + +A pause follows the reading. The wise man in the spectacles--his voice +soft and persuasive, and his aspect meekness itself--would like to know +if any one present be inclined to offer a remark. General satisfaction +prevails. Brother Sharp moves, and Brother Phills seconds, that the +report be accepted. The report is accepted without a dissenting voice. A +second paper is handed him by Sister Slocum, whose countenance is seen +to flash bright with smiles. Then there follows the proclaiming of the +fact of funds, to the amount of three thousand six hundred dollars, +having been subscribed, and now ready to be appropriated to getting +Brother Syngleton Spyke off to Antioch. A din of satisfaction follows; +every face is radiant with joy. Sister Swiggs twitches her head, begins +to finger her pocket, and finally readjusts her spectacles. Having +worked her countenance into a good staring condition, she sets her eyes +fixedly upon Brother Spyke, who rises, saying he has a few words to +offer. + +The object of his mission to Antioch, so important at this moment, he +would not have misunderstood. Turks, Greeks, Jews, Arabs, Armenians, and +Kurds, and Yesedees--yes, brethren, Yesedees! inhabit this part of +Assyria, which opens up an extensive field of missionary labor, even +yet. Much had been done by the ancient Greeks for the people who roamed +in these Eastern wilds--much remained for us to do; for it was yet a +dark spot on the missionary map. Thousands of these poor souls were +without the saving knowledge of the Gospel. He could not shrink from a +duty so demanding--wringing his very heart with its pleadings! Giving +the light of the Gospel to these vicious Arabs and Kurds was the end and +aim of his mission. (A motion of satisfaction was here perceptible.) And +while there, he would teach the Jews a just sense of their Lord's +design--which was the subjugation of the heathen world. Inward light was +very good, old prophecies were very grand; but Judaism was made of +stubborn metal, had no missionary element in it, and could only be +forced to accept light through strong and energetic movement. He had +read with throbbing heart how Rome, while in her greatness, protected +those Christian pilgrims who went forth into the East, to do battle with +the enemy. Would not America imitate Rome, that mighty mother of +Republics? A deeper responsibility rested on her at this moment. Rome, +then, was semi-barbarous; America, now, was Christianized and civilized. +Hence she would be held more accountable for the dissemination of light. + +In those days the wandering Christian Jews undertook to instruct the +polished Greeks--why could not Americans at this day inculcate the +doctrines of Jesus to these educated heathen? It was a bold and daring +experiment, but he was willing to try it. The Allwise worked his wonders +in a mysterious way. In this irrelevant and somewhat mystical style, +Brother Spyke continues nearly an hour, sending his audience into a +highly-edified state. We have said mystical, for, indeed, none but those +in the secret could have divined, from Brother Spyke's logic, what was +the precise nature of his mission. His speech was very like a country +parson's model sermon; one text was selected, and a dozen or more (all +different) preached from; while fifty things were said no one could +understand. + +Brother Spyke sits down--Sister Slocum rises. "Our dear and very +generous guest now present," she says, addressing the good-natured fat +man in the chair, as Lady Swiggs bows, "moved by the goodness that is in +her, and conscious of the terrible condition of the heathen world, has +come nobly to our aid. Like a true Christian she has crossed the sea, +and is here. Not only is she here, but ready to give her mite toward +getting Brother Spyke off to Antioch. Another donation she proposes +giving the 'Tract Society,' an excellent institution, in high favor at +the South. Indeed I may add, that it never has offended against its +social--" + +Sister Slocum hesitates. Social slavery will not sound just right, she +says to her herself. She must have a term more musical, and less grating +to the ear. A smile flashes across her countenance, her gold-framed +eye-glasses vibrate in her fingers: "Well! I was going to say, their +social arrangements," she pursues. + +The assembly is suddenly thrown into a fit of excitement. Lady Swiggs is +seen trembling from head to foot, her yellow complexion changing to pale +white, her features contorting as with pain, and her hand clutching at +her pocket. "O heavens!" she sighs, "all is gone, gone, gone: how vain +and uncertain are the things here below." She drops, fainting, into the +arms of Sister Slocum, who has overset the wise man in the spectacles, +in her haste to catch the prostrate form. On a bench the august body is +laid. Fans, water, camphor, hartshorn, and numerous other restoratives +are brought into use. Persons get in each other's way, run every way but +the right way, causing, as is common in such cases, very unnecessary +alarm. The stately representative of the great Swiggs family lies +motionless. Like the last of our chivalry, she has nothing left her but +a name. + +A dash or two of cold water, and the application of a little hartshorn, +and that sympathy so necessary to the fainting of distinguished +people--proves all-efficient. A slight heaving of the bosom is detected, +the hands--they have been well chaffed--quiver and move slowly, her face +resumes its color. She opens her eyes, lays her hand solicitously on +Sister Slocum's arm: "It must be the will of Heaven," she lisps, +motioning her head, regretfully; "it cannot now be undone--" + +"Sister! sister! sister!" interrupts Sister Slocum, grasping her hand, +and looking inquiringly in the face of the recovering woman, "is it an +affection of the heart?--where is the pain?--what has befallen you? We +are all so sorry!" + +"It was there, there, there! But it is gone now." Regaining her +consciousness, she lays her hand nervously upon her pocket, and pursues: +"Oh! yes, sister, it was there when I entered that vile place, as you +call it. What am I to do? The loss of the money does not so much trouble +my mind. Oh! dear, no. It is the thought of going home deprived of the +means of aiding these noble institutions." + +Had Lady Swiggs inquired into the character of the purchaser of old +Dolly she might now have become conscious of the fact, that whatever +comes of evil seldom does good. The money she had so struggled to get +together to aid her in maintaining her hypocrisy, was the result of +crime. Perhaps it were better the wretch purloined it, than that the +fair name of a noble institution be stained with its acceptance. +Atonement is too often sought to be purchased with the gold got of +infamy. + +The cause of this fainting being traced to Lady Swiggs' pocket book +instead of her heart, the whole scene changes. Sister Slocum becomes as +one dumb, the good fat man is seized with a nervous fit, the man in the +spectacles hangs his head, and runs his fingers through his crispy hair, +as Brother Spyke elongates his lean body, and is seen going into a +melancholy mood, the others gathering round with serious faces. Lady +Swiggs commences describing with great minuteness the appearance of Mr. +Tom Toddleworth. That he is the person who carried off the money, every +one is certain. "He is the man!" responds a dozen voices. And as many +more volunteer to go in search of Mr. Detective Fitzgerald. Brother +Spyke pricks up his courage, and proceeds to initiate his missionary +labors by consulting Mr. Detective Fitzgerald, with whom he starts off +in pursuit of Mr. Tom Toddleworth. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. + +MR. SNIVEL ADVISES GEORGE MULLHOLLAND HOW TO MAKE STRONG LOVE. + + +Let us leave for a time the pursuit with which we concluded the +foregoing chapter, and return to Charleston. It is the still hour of +midnight. There has been a ball at the fashionable house of the +Flamingo, which still retains its name. In the great parlour we have +before described, standing here and there upon massive tables with +Egyptian marble-tops, are half-empty bottles of wine, decanters, +tumblers, and viands of various descriptions. Bits of artificial flowers +are strewn about the carpet, a shawl is seen thrown over one chair, a +mantle over another; the light is half shut off--everything bears +evidence of the gaieties of luxurious life, the sumptuous revel and the +debauch. The gilded mirrors reflect but two faces, both hectic and moody +of dissipation. George Mullholland and Mr. Snivel face each other, at a +pier-table. Before them are several half filled bottles, from one of +which Mr. Snivel fills George's glass. + +"There is something in this champaign (one only gets rubbish in these +houses) that compounds and elevates one's ideas," says Mr. Snivel, +holding his glass in the light, and squinting his blood-shotten eyes, +the lids of which he has scarce power to keep open. "Drink, +George--drink! You have had your day--why let such nonsense trouble +you? The whole city is in love with the girl. Her beauty makes her +capricious; if the old Judge has got her, let him keep her. Indeed, I'm +not so sure that she doesn't love him, and (well, I always laugh when I +think of it), it is a well laid down principle among us lawyers, that no +law stands good against love." Mr. Snivel's leaden eyelids close, and +his head drops upon his bosom. "She never can love him--never! His +wealth, and some false tale, has beguiled her. He is a hoary-headed +lecher, with wealth and position to aid him in his hellish pursuits; I +am poor, and an outcast! He has flattered me and showered his favors +upon me, only to affect my ruin. I will have--" + +"Pshaw! George," interrupts Mr. Snivel, brightening up, "be a +philosopher. Chivalry, you know--chivalry! A dashing fellow like you +should doff the kid to a knight of his metal: challenge him." Mr. Snivel +reaches over the table and pats his opponent on the arm. "These women, +George! Funny things, eh? Make any kind of love--have a sample for every +sort of gallant, and can make the quantity to suit the purchaser. 'Pon +my soul this is my opinion. I'm a lawyer, know pretty well how the sex +lay their points. As for these unfortunate devils, as we of the +profession call them (he pauses and empties his glass, saying, not bad +for a house of this kind), there are so many shades of them, life is +such a struggle with them; they dream of broken hopes, and they die +sighing to think how good a thing is virtue. You only love this girl +because she is beautiful, and beautiful women, at best, are the most +capricious things in the world. D--n it, you have gone through enough of +this kind of life to be accustomed to it. We think nothing of these +things, in Charleston--bless you, nothing! Keep the Judge your +friend--his position may give him a means to serve you. A man of the +world ought at all times to have the private friendship of as many +judges as he can." + +"Never! poor as I am--outcast as I feel myself! I want no such +friendship. Society may shun me, the community may fear me, necessity +may crush me--yea! you may regard me as a villain if you will, but, were +I a judge, I would scorn to use my office to serve base ends." As he +says this he draws a pistol from his pocket, and throwing it defiantly +upon the table, continues as his lip curls with scorn, "poor men's lives +are cheap in Charleston--let us see what rich men's are worth!" + +"His age, George!--you should respect that!" says Mr. Snivel, +laconically. + +"His age ought to be my protection." + +"Ah!--you forget that the follies of our nature too often go with us to +the grave." + +"And am I to suffer because public opinion honors him, and gives him +power to disgrace me? Can he rob me of the one I love--of the one in +whose welfare my whole soul is staked, and do it with impunity?" + +"D----d inconvenient, I know, George. Sympathize with you, I do. But, +you see, we are governed here by the laws of chivalry. Don't let your (I +am a piece of a philosopher, you see) temper get up, keep on a stiff +upper lip. You may catch him napping. I respect your feelings, my dear +fellow; ready to do you a bit of a good turn--you understand! Now let me +tell you, my boy, he has made her his adopted, and to-morrow she moves +with him to his quiet little villa near the Magnolia." + +"I am a poor, forlorn wretch," interrupts George, with a sigh. "Those +of whom I had a right to expect good counsel, and a helping hand, have +been first to encourage me in the ways of evil--" + +"Get money, Mullholland--get money. It takes money to make love strong. +Say what you will, a woman's heart is sure to be sound on the gold +question. Mark ye, Mullholland!--there is an easy way to get money. Do +you take? (His fingers wander over his forehead, as he watches intently +in George's face.) You can make names? Such things are done by men in +higher walks, you know. Quite a common affair in these parts. The Judge +has carried off your property; make a fair exchange--you can use his +name, get money with it, and make it hold fast the woman you love. There +are three things, George, you may set down as facts that will be of +service to you through life, and they are these: when a man eternally +rings in your ears the immoralities of the age, watch him closely; when +a man makes what he has done for others a boast, set him down a knave; +and when a woman dwells upon the excellent qualities of her many +admirers, set her down as wanting. But, get money, and when you have got +it, charm back this beautiful creature." + +Such is the advice of Mr. Soloman Snivel, the paid intriguer of the +venerable Judge. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV. + +A SLIGHT CHANGE IN THE PICTURE. + + +The two lone revellers remain at the pier-table, moody and hectic. Mr. +Snivel drops into a sound sleep, his head resting on the marble. +Weak-minded, jealous, contentious--with all the attendants natural to +one who leads an unsettled life, sits George Mullholland, his elbow +resting on the table, and his head poised thoughtfully in his hand. "I +will have revenge--sweet revenge; yes, I will have revenge to-night!" he +mutters, and sets his teeth firmly. + +In Anna's chamber all is hushed into stillness. The silvery moonbeams +play softly through the half-closed windows, lighting up and giving an +air of enchantment to the scene. Curtains hang, mist-like, from massive +cornices in gilt. Satin drapery, mysteriously underlaid with lace, and +floating in bewitching chasteness over a fairy-like bed, makes more +voluptuous that ravishing form calmly sleeping--half revealed among the +snowy sheets, and forming a picture before which fancy soars, passion +unbends itself, and sentiment is led away captive. With such exquisite +forms strange nature excites our love;--that love that like a little +stream meanders capriciously through our feelings, refreshing life, +purifying our thoughts, exciting our ambition, and modulating our +actions. That love, too, like a quicksand, too often proves a destroyer +to the weak-minded. + +Costly chairs, of various styles carved in black walnut, stand around +the chamber: lounges covered with chastely-designed tapestry are seen +half concealed by the gorgeous window curtains. The foot falls upon a +soft, Turkey carpet; the ceiling--in French white, and gilt +mouldings--is set off with two Cupids in a circle, frescoed by a skilled +hand. On a lounge, concealed in an alcove masked by curtains pending +from the hands of a fairy in bronze, and nearly opposite Anna's bed, the +old Judge sleeps in his judicial dignity. To-day he sentenced three +rogues to the whipping-post, and two wretched negroes--one for raising +his hand to a white man--to the gallows. + +Calmly Anna continues to sleep, the lights in the girandoles shedding a +mysterious paleness over the scene. To the eye that scans only the +exterior of life, how dazzling! Like a refulgent cloud swelling golden +in the evening sky, how soon it passes away into darkness and +disappointment! Suddenly there appears, like a vision in the chamber, +the stately figure of a female. Advancing slowly to the bed-side, for a +minute she stands contemplating the sleeping beauty before her. A dark, +languishing eye, an aquiline nose, beautifully-cut mouth, and a +finely-oval face, is revealed by the shadow in which she stands. "How +willingly," she mutters, raising the jewelled fingers of her right hand +to her lips, as her eyes become liquid with emotion, and her every +action betokens one whose very soul is goaded with remorse, "would I +exchange all these worldly pleasures for one single day in peace of +mind." She lays aside her mantle, and keeps her eyes fixed upon the +object before her. A finely-rounded shoulder and exactly-developed bust +is set off with a light satin bodice or corsage, cut low, opening +shawl-fashion at the breast, and relieved with a stomacher of fine +Brussels lace. Down the edges are rows of small, unpolished pearls, +running into points. A skirt of orange-colored brocade, trimmed with +tulle, and surrounded with three flounces, falls, cloud-like, from her +girdle, which is set with cameos and unpolished pearls. With her left +hand she raises slightly her skirts, revealing the embroidered gimps of +a white taffeta underskirt, flashing in the moonlight. Small, unpolished +pearls ornament the bands of her short sleeves; on her fingers are +rings, set with diamonds and costly emeralds; and her wrists are clasped +with bracelets of diamonds, shedding a modest lustre over her +marble-like arms. + +"Can this be my child? Has this crime that so like a demon haunts +me--that curses me even in my dreams, driven her, perhaps against her +will, to seek this life of shame?" She takes the sleeper's hand gently +in her own, as the tears gush down her cheeks. + +The sleeper startles, half raises herself from her pillow, parts her +black, silky hair, that lays upon her gently-swelling bosom, and throws +it carelessly down her shoulders, wildly setting her great black orbs on +the strange figure before her. "Hush, hush!" says the speaker, "I am a +friend. One who seeks you for a good purpose. Give me your +confidence--do not betray me! I need not tell you by what means I gained +access to you." + +A glow of sadness flashes across Anna's countenance. With a look of +suspicion she scans the mysterious figure from head to foot. "It is the +Judge's wife!" she says within herself. "Some one has betrayed me to +her; and, as is too often the case, she seeks revenge of the less guilty +party." But the figure before her is in full dress, and one seeking +revenge would have disguised herself. "Why, and who is it, that seeks me +in this mysterious manner?" whispers Anna, holding her delicate hand in +the shadow, over her eyes. "I seek you in the hope of finding something +to relieve my troubled spirit, I am a mother who has wronged her +child--I have no peace of mind--my heart is lacerated--" + +"Are you, then, my mother?" interrupts Anna, with a look of scorn. + +"That I would answer if I could. You have occupied my thoughts day and +night. I have traced your history up to a certain period. ("What I know +of my own, I would fain not contemplate," interrupts Anna.) Beyond that, +all is darkness. And yet there are circumstances that go far to prove +you the child I seek. Last night I dreamed I saw a gate leading to a +dungeon, that into the dungeon I was impelled against my will. While +there I was haunted with the figure of a woman of the name of Mag +Munday--a maniac, and in chains! My heart bled at the sight, for she, I +thought, was the woman in whose charge I left the child I seek. I +spoke--I asked her what had become of the child! She pointed with her +finger, told me to go seek you here, and vanished as I awoke. I spent +the day in unrest, went to the ball to-night, but found no pleasure in +its gay circle. Goaded in my conscience, I left the ball-room, and with +the aid of a confidant am here." + +"I recognize--yes, my lady, I recognize you! You think me your abandoned +child, and yet you are too much the slave of society to seek me as a +mother ought to do. I am the supposed victim of your crime; you are the +favored and flattered ornament of society. Our likenesses have been +compared many times:--I am glad we have met. Go, woman, go! I would not, +outcast as I am, deign to acknowledge the mother who could enjoy the +luxuries of life and see her child a wretch." + +"Woman! do not upbraid me. Spare, oh! spare my troubled heart this last +pang," (she grasps convulsively at Anna's hand, then shrinks back in +fright.) "Tell me! oh, tell me!" she pursues, the tears coursing down +her cheeks-- + +Anna Bonard interrupts by saying, peremptorily, she has nothing to tell +one so guilty. To be thus rebuked by an abandoned woman, notwithstanding +she might be her own child, wounded her feelings deeply. It was like +poison drying up her very blood. Tormented with the thought of her +error, (for she evidently labored under the smart of an error in early +life,) her very existence now seemed a burden to her. Gloomy and +motionless she stood, as if hesitating how best to make her escape. + +"Woman! I will not betray your coming here. But you cannot give me back +my virtue; you cannot restore me untainted to the world--the world never +forgives a fallen woman. Her own sex will be first to lacerate her heart +with her shame." These words were spoken with such biting sarcasm, that +the Judge, whose nap the loudness of Anna's voice had disturbed, +protruded his flushed face and snowy locks from out the curtains of the +alcove. "The gay Madame Montford, as I am a Christian," he exclaims in +the eagerness of the moment, and the strange figure vanishes out of the +door. + +"A fashionable, but very mysterious sort of person," pursues the Judge, +confusedly. "Ah! ha,--her case, like many others, is the want of a clear +conscience. Snivel has it in hand. A great knave, but a capital lawyer, +that Snivel--" + +The Judge is interrupted in his remarks by the entrance of Mr. Snivel, +who, with hectic face, and flushed eyes, comes rushing into the chamber. +"Hollo!--old boy, there's a high bid on your head to-night. Ready to do +you a bit of a good turn, you see." Mr. Snivel runs his fingers through +his hair, and works his shoulders with an air of exultation. "If," he +continues, "that weak-minded fellow--that Mullholland we have shown some +respect to, hasn't got a pistol! He's been furbishing it up while in the +parlor, and swears he will seriously damage you with it. Blasted +assurance, those Northerners have. Won't fight, can't make 'em +gentlemen; and if you knock 'em down they don't understand enough of +chivalry to resent it. They shout to satisfy their fear and not to +maintain their honor. Keep an eye out!" + +The Judge, in a tone of cool indifference, says he has no fears of the +renegade, and will one of these days have the pleasure of sending him to +the whipping-post. + +"As to that, Judge," interposes Mr. Snivel, "I have already prepared the +preliminaries. I gave him the trifle you desired--to-morrow I will nail +him at the Keno crib." With this the Judge and the Justice each take an +affectionate leave of the frail girl, and, as it is now past one o'clock +in the morning, an hour much profaned in Charleston, take their +departure. + +Armed with a revolver Mullholland has taken up his position in the +street, where he awaits the coming of his adversaries. In doubt and +anxiety, he reflects and re-reflects, recurs to the associations of his +past life, and hesitates. Such reflections only bring more vividly to +his mind the wrong he feels himself the victim of, and has no power to +resent except with violence. His contemplations only nerve him to +revenge. + +A click, and the door cautiously opens, as if some votary of crime was +about to issue forth in quest of booty. The hostess' head protrudes +suddenly from the door, she scans first up and then down the street, +then withdraws it. The Judge and Mr. Snivel, each in turn, shake the +landlady by the hand, and emerge into the street. They have scarce +stepped upon the sidepath when the report of a pistol resounds through +the air. The ball struck a lamp-post, glanced, passed through the collar +of Judge Sleepyhorn's coat, and brushed Mr. Snivel's fashionable +whiskers. Madame Ashley, successor to Madame Flamingo, shrieks and +alarms the house, which is suddenly thrown into a state of confusion. +Acting upon the maxim of discretion being the better part of valor, the +Judge and the Justice beat a hasty retreat into the house, and secrete +themselves in a closet at the further end of the back-parlor. + +As if suddenly moved by some strange impulse, Madame Ashley runs from +room to room, screaming at the very top of her voice, and declaring that +she saw the assassin enter her house. Females rush from their rooms and +into the great parlor, where they form groups of living statuary, +strange and grotesque. Anxious faces--faces half painted, faces hectic +of dissipation, faces waning and sallow, eyes glassy and lascivious, +dishevelled hair floating over naked shoulders;--the flashing of +bewitching drapery, the waving and flitting of embroidered underskirts, +the tripping of pretty feet and prettier ankles, the gesticulating and +swaying of half-draped bodies--such is the scene occasioned by the bench +and the bar. + +Madame Ashley, having inherited of Madame Flamingo the value of a +scrupulous regard for the good reputation of her house, must needs call +in the watch to eject the assassin, whom she swears is concealed +somewhere on the premises. Mr. Sergeant Stubbs, a much respected +detective, and reputed one of the very best officers of the guard, +inasmuch as he never troubles his head about other people's business, +and is quite content to let every one fight their own battles,--provided +they give him a "nip" of whiskey when they are through, lights his +lantern and goes bobbing into every room in the house. We must here +inform the reader that the cause of the _emeute_ was kept a profound +secret between the judicial gentry. Madame Ashley, at the same time, is +fully convinced the ball was intended for her, while Anna lays in a +terrible fright in her chamber. + +"Ho," says Mr. Stubbs, starting back suddenly as he opened the door of +the closet in which the two gentlemen had concealed themselves. "I see! +I see!--beg your pardon, gentlemen!" Mr. Stubbs whispers, and bows, and +shuts the door quickly. + +"An infernal affair this, Judge! D--n me if I wouldn't as soon be in the +dock. It will all get out to-morrow," interposes Mr. Snivel, +facetiously. + +"Blast these improper associations!" the high functionary exclaims, +fussily shrugging his shoulders, and wiping the sweat from his forehead. +"I love the girl, though, I confess it!" + +"Nothing more natural. A man without gallantry is like a pilgrim in the +South-West Pass. You can't resist this charming creature. In truth it's +a sort of longing weakness, which even the scales of justice fail to +bring to a balance." + +Mr. Stubbs fails to find the assassin, and enters Madame Ashley's +chamber, the door of which leads into the hall. Here Mr. Stubbs's quick +eye suddenly discerns a slight motion of the curtains that enclose the +great, square bed, standing in one corner. "I ax your pardon, Mam, but +may I look in this 'ere bed?" Mr. Stubbs points to the bed, as Madame, +having thrown herself into a great rocking chair, proceeds to sway her +dignity backward and forward, and give out signs of making up her mind +to faint. + +Mr. Stubbs draws back the curtains, when, behold! but tell it not in the +by-ways, there is revealed the stalworth figure of Simon Patterson, the +plantation parson. Our plantation parsons, be it known, are a singular +species of depraved humanity, a sort of itinerant sermon-makers, holding +forth here and there to the negroes of the rich planters, receiving a +paltry pittance in return, and having in lieu of morals an excellent +taste for whiskey, an article they invariably call to their aid when +discoursing to the ignorant slave--telling him how content with his lot +he ought to be, seeing that God intended him only for ignorance and +servitude. The parson did, indeed, cut a sorry figure before the gaze of +this indescribable group, as it rushed into the room and commenced +heaping upon his head epithets delicacy forbids our inserting +here--calling him a clerical old lecher, an assassin, and a disturber of +the peace and respectability of the house. Indeed, Madame Ashley quite +forgot to faint, and with a display of courage amounting almost to +heroism, rushed at the poor parson, and had left him in the state he was +born but for the timely precautions of Mr. Stubbs, who, finding a +revolver in his possession, and wanting no better proof of his guilt, +straightway took him off to the guard-house. Parson Patterson would have +entered the most solemn and pious protestation of his innocence but the +evidence was so strong against him, and the zeal of Mr. Sergeant Stubbs +so apparent, that he held it the better policy to quietly submit to the +rough fare of his new lodgings. + +"I have a terror of these brawls!" says Mr. Snivel, emerging from his +hiding-place, and entering the chamber, followed by the high legal +functionary. + +"A pretty how-do-ye-do, this is;" returns Madame Ashley, cooling her +passion in the rocking-chair, "I never had much respect for parsons--" + +"Parsons?" interrupts Mr. Snivel, inquiringly, "you don't mean to say it +was all the doings of a parson?" + +"As I'm a lady it was no one else. He was discovered behind the curtain +there, a terrible pistol in his pocket--the wretch!" + +Mr. Snivel exchanges a wink with the Judge, points his thumb over his +left shoulder, and says, captiously: "I always had an implacable hatred +of that old thief. A bad lot! these plantation parsons." + +Mr. Stubbs having discovered and removed the assassin, the terrified +damsels return to their chambers, and Madame Ashley proceeds to close +her house, as the two legal gentlemen take their departure. Perhaps it +would be well to inform the reader that a principal cause of Anna's +preference for the Judge, so recently manifested, was the deep +impression made on her already suspicious mind by Mr. McArthur, the +antiquary, who revealed to her sincerely, as she thought, her future +dark destiny. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI. + +IN WHICH A HIGH FUNCTIONARY IS MADE TO PLAY A SINGULAR PART. + + +The morning following the events detailed in the foregoing chapter, +finds the august Sleepyhorn seated on his judgment-seat. The clock +strikes ten as he casts his heavy eyes over the grotesque group gathered +into his little, dingy court-room; and he bows to his clerk, of whom he +gets his law knowledge, and with his right hand makes a sign that he is +ready to admonish the erring, or pass sentence on any amount of +criminals. History affords no record of a judge so unrelenting of his +judgments. + +A few dilapidated gentlemen of the "_learned_ profession," with sharp +features and anxious faces, fuss about among the crowd, reeking of +whiskey and tobacco. Now they whisper suspiciously in the ears of +forlorn prisoners, now they struggle to get a market for their legal +nostrums. A few, more respectably clothed and less vicious of aspect, +sit writing at a table inside the bar, while a dozen or more punch-faced +policemen, affecting an air of superiority, drag themselves lazily +through the crowd of seedy humanity, looking querulously over the +railing encircling the dock, or exchanging recognitions with friends. + +Some twenty "negro cases" having been disposed of without much respect +to law, and being sent up for punishment (the Judge finds it more +convenient to forego testimony in these cases), a daughter of the +Emerald Isle, standing nearly six feet in her bare soles, and much +shattered about the dress, is, against her inclination, arraigned before +his Honor. "I think I have seen you before, Mrs. Donahue?" says the +Judge, inquiringly. + +"Arrah, good-morning, yer 'onher! Shure, it's only the sixth time these +three weeks. Doesn't meself like to see yer smiling face, onyhow!" Here +Mrs. Donahue commences complimenting the Judge in one breath, and laying +no end of charges at the door of the very diminutive and harmless Mister +Donahue in the next. + +"This being the sixth time," returns his Honor, somewhat seriously, "I +would advise you to compromise the matter with Donahue, and not be seen +here again. The state of South Carolina cannot pay your fees so often--" + +"Och, bad luck to Donahue! Troth, an' if yer onher'd put the fees down +to Donahue, our acquaintance 'ouldn't be so fraquent." Mrs. Donahue says +this with great unction, throwing her uncombed hair back, then daintily +raising her dress apace, and inquiring of Mr. Sheriff Hardscrabble, who +sits on his Honor's left, peering sharply through his spectacles, how he +likes the spread of her broad, flat foot; "the charging the fees to +Donahue, yer onher, 'd do it!" There was more truth in this remark than +his Honor seemed to comprehend, for having heard the charge against her +(Mr. Donahue having been caught in the act of taking a drop of her gin, +she had well-nigh broken his head with the bottle), and having listened +attentively while poor Donahue related his wrongs, and exhibited two +very well blacked eyes and a broken nose, he came to the very just +conclusion that it were well to save the blood of the Donahues. And to +this end did he grant Mrs. Donahue board and lodging for one month in +the old prison. Mrs. Donahue is led away, heaping curses on the head of +Donahue, and compliments on that of his Honor. + +A pale, sickly looking boy, some eleven years old, is next placed upon +the stand. Mr. Sergeant Stubbs, who leans his corpulent figure against +the clerk's desk, every few minutes bowing his sleepy head to some +friend in the crowd, says: "A hard 'un--don't do no good about here. A +vagrant; found him sleeping in the market." + +His Honor looks at the poor boy for some minutes, a smile of kindliness +seems lighting up his face; he says he would there were some place of +refuge--a place where reformation rather than punishment might be the +aim and end, where such poor creatures could be sent to, instead of +confining them in cells occupied by depraved prisoners. + +Mr. Sheriff Hardscrabble, always eager to get every one into jail he +can, inasmuch as it pays him twenty-two cents a day clear profit on each +and every person confined, says: "A hard customer. Found sleeping in the +market, eh? Well, we must merge him in a tub of water, and scrub him up +a little." Mr. Hardscrabble views him with an air of satisfaction, +touches him with a small cane he holds in his hand, as if he were +something very common. Indeed, Mr. Hardscrabble seems quite at a loss to +know what species of animal he is, or whether he be really intended for +any other use than filling up his cells and returning him twenty-two +cents a day clear profit. "Probably an incendiary," mutters the +sagacious sheriff. The helpless boy would explain how he came to sleep +in the market--how he, a poor cabin-boy, walked, foot-sore and hungry, +from Wilmington, in the hope of getting a ship; and being moneyless and +friendless he laid down in the market to sleep. Mr. Hardscrabble, +however, suggests that such stories are extremely common. His Honor +thinks it not worth while to differ from this opinion, but to the end +that no great legal wisdom may be thrown away, he orders the accused to +be sent to the common jail for three months. This, in the opinion of +Judge Sleepyhorn, is an extremely mild penalty for being found sleeping +in the market. + +Next there comes forward a lean, up-country Cracker, (an half-civilized +native,) who commences telling his story with commendable simplicity, +the Judge in the meanwhile endeavoring to suppress a smile, which the +quaintness of his remarks excite. Making a tenement of his cart, as is +usual with these people when they visit the city, which they do now and +then for the purpose of replenishing their stock of whiskey, he had, +about eleven o'clock on the previous night, been set upon by three +intoxicated students, who, having driven off his mule, overturned his +cart, landing him and his wife prostrate in the ditch. A great noise was +the result, and the guard, with their accustomed zeal for seizing upon +the innocent party, dragged up the weaker (the Cracker and his wife) and +let the guilty go free. He had brought the good wife, he added, as a +living evidence of the truth of what he said, and would bring the mule +if his honor was not satisfied. The good wife commences a volley of what +she is pleased to call voluntary testimony, praising and defending all +the good qualities of her much-abused husband, without permitting any +one else an opposing word. No sufficient charge being brought against +the Cracker (he wisely slipped a five dollar bill into the hands of +Stubbs), he joins his good wife and goes on his way rejoicing. + +During this little episode between the court and the Cracker's wife, +Madame Grace Ashley, arrayed in her most fashionable toilet, comes +blazing into Court, bows to the Judge and a few of her most select +friends of the Bar. A seat for Madame is provided near his Honor's desk. +His Honor's blushes seem somewhat overtaxed; Madame, on the other hand, +is not at all disconcerted; indeed, she claims an extensive acquaintance +with the most distinguished of the Bar. + +The Judge suggests to Mr. Stubbs that it would be as well to waive the +charge against the clergyman. Somewhat the worse for his night in the +guard-house, Parson Patterson comes forward and commences in the most +unintelligible manner to explain the whole affair, when the Judge very +blandly interrupts by inquiring if he is a member of the clergy at this +moment. "Welle," returns the parson, with characteristic drawl, "can't +zactly say I am." The natural seediness of the parson excites suspicion, +nevertheless he is scrupulous of his white cravat, and preserves withal +a strictly clerical aspect. Having paused a few moments and exchanged +glances with the Judge, he continues: "I do nigger preaching on +Sunday--that is (Parson Patterson corrects himself), I hold forth, here +and there--we are all flesh and blood--on plantations when I have a +demand for my services. Our large planters hold it good policy to +encourage the piety of their property." + +"You make a good thing of it?" inquires the Judge, jocosely. The parson +replies, with much meekness of manner, that business is not so good as +it was, planters having got it into their heads that sermons can be got +at a very low figure. Here he commences to explain his singular +position. He happened to meet an old and much-esteemed friend, whom he +accompanied home, and while spending the evening conversing on +spiritual matters--it was best not to lie--he took a little too much. On +his way to the hotel he selected Beresford street as a short cut, and +being near the house where he was unfortunately found when the shooting +took place, he ran into it to escape the police-- + +"Don't believe a word he says," interrupts Madame Ashley, springing +suddenly to her feet, and commencing to pour out her phials of wrath on +the head of the poor parson, whom she accuses of being a suspicious and +extremely unprofitable frequenter of her house, which she describes as +exceedingly respectable. "Your Honor can bear me out in what I say!" +pursues Madame, bowing with an air of exultation, as the sheriff demands +order. + +"A sorry lot, these plantation preachers! Punish him right soundly, your +honor. It is not the first time he has damaged the respectability of my +house!" again interrupts Madame Ashley. His Honor replies only with a +blush. Mr. Snivel, who watches with quisical countenance, over the bar, +enjoys the joke wonderfully. + +Order being restored, the Judge turns to address the parson. + +"I see, my friend--I always address my prisoners familiarly--you place +but little value on the fact of your being a clergyman, on the ground +that you only preach to slaves. This charge brought against you is a +grave one--I assure you! And I cannot incline to the view you take of +your profession. I may not be as erudite as some; however, I hold it +that the ignorant and not the learned have most need of good example." + +"Aye! I always told the old reprobate so," interposes Madam Ashley, with +great fervor. + +"A charge," resumes the Judge, "quite sufficient to warrant me in +committing you to durance vile, might be preferred. You may thank my +generosity that it is not. These houses, as you know, Mr. Patterson, are +not only dangerous, but damaging to men of potent morality like you." + +"But, your Honor knows, they are much frequented," meekly drawls the +parson. + +"It affords no palliation," sharply responds the Judge, his face +crimsoning with blushes. "Mark ye, my friend of the clergy, these places +make sad destruction of our young men. Indeed I may say with becoming +sincerity and truth, that they spread a poison over the community, and +act as the great enemy of our social system." + +"Heigh ho!" ejaculates Madame Ashley, to the great delight of the throng +assembled, "Satan has come to rebuke sin." Madame bids his Honor a very +polite good morning, and takes her departure, looking disdainfully over +her shoulder as she disappears out of the door. + +Not a little disturbed in his equanimity, the Judge pursues his charge. +"The clergy ought to keep their garments clear of such places, for being +the source of all evil, the effect on the community is not good--I mean +when such things are brought to light! I would address you frankly and +admonish you to go no more into such places. Let your ways merit the +approbation of those to whom you preach the Gospel. You can go. +Henceforth, live after the ways of the virtuous." + +Parson Patterson thanks his Honor, begs to assure him of his innocence, +and seems only too anxious to get away. His Honor bows to Mr. Patterson, +Mr. Patterson returns it, and adds another for the audience, whereupon +the court adjourns, and so ends the episode. His Honor takes Mr. +Snivel's arm, and together they proceed to the "most convenient" saloon, +where, over a well-compounded punch, "the bench and the bar" compliment +each other on the happy disposal of such vexatious cases. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII. + +THE HOUSE OF THE NINE NATIONS, AND WHAT MAY BE SEEN IN IT. + + +On the corner of Anthony street and the Points,[4] in New-York, there +stands, like a grim savage, the house of the Nine Nations, a dingy +wooden tenement, that for twenty years has threatened to tumble away +from its more upright neighbor, and before which the stranger wayfarer +is seen to stop and contemplate. In a neighborhood redolent of crime, +there it stands, its vices thick upon its head, exciting in the mind of +the observer its association with some dark and terrible deed. On the +one side, opens that area of misery, mud and sombre walls, called "Cow +Bay;" on the other a triangular plot, reeking with the garbage of the +miserable cellars that flank it, and in which swarms of wasting beings +seek a hiding-place, inhale pestilential air, and die. Gutters running +with seething matter; homeless outcasts sitting, besotted, on crazy +doorsteps; the vicious, with savage visage, and keen, watchful eye, +loitering at the doors of filthy "groceries;" the sickly and neglected +child crawling upon the side-pave, or seeking a crust to appease its +hunger--all are found here, gasping, in rags, a breath of air by day, or +seeking a shelter, at night, in dens so abject that the world can +furnish no counterpart. And this forlorn picture of dilapidated houses, +half-clad, squabbish women, blistered-faced men, and sickly children, +the house of the Nine Nations overlooks. And yet this house, to the +disgrace of an opulent people be it said, is but the sample of an +hundred others standing in the same neighborhood. + +[Footnote 4: Now Worth street and Mission Place.] + +With its basement-doors opening into its bottomless pit; with its +continual outgoing and ingoing of sooty and cruel-visaged denizens; with +its rickety old steps leading to the second story; with its battered +windows, begrimed walls, demolished shutters, clapboards hanging at +sixes and sevens--with its suspicious aspect;--there it stands, with its +distained sign over the doors of its bottomless pit. You may read on +this sign, that a gentleman from Ireland, who for convenience' sake we +will call Mr. Krone, is licensed to sell imported and other liquors. + +Indeed the house of the Nine Nations would seem to say within itself: "I +am mother of this banquet of death you behold with your eyes." There it +stands, its stream of poison hurrying its victims to the grave; its +little dark passages leading to curious hiding-places; its caving roof, +and its ominous-looking back platform, overlooking the dead walls of +Murderers' Yard. How it mocks your philanthropy, your regal edifices, +your boasted charities--your gorgeous churches! Everybody but the +corporation knows the house of the Nine Nations, a haunt for wasted +prostitutes, assassins, burglars, thieves--every grade of criminals +known to depraved nature. The corporation would seem either to have a +charming sympathy for it, or to look upon it with that good-natured +indifference so happily illustrated while eating its oysters and +drinking its whiskey. An empty-headed corporation is sure always to +have its hands very full, which is the case with yours at this moment. +Having the people's money to waste, its own ambition to serve, and its +hat to fill with political waste paper--what more would you ask of it? + +The man of the house of the Nine Nations, you ought to know, makes +criminals by the hundred, deluges your alms houses with paupers, and +makes your Potters' field reek with his victims: for this he is become +rich. Mr. Krone is an intimate friend of more than one Councilman, and a +man of much measure in the political world--that is, Mr. Krone is a +politician-maker. When you say there exists too close an intimacy +between the pugilist and the politician, Mr. Krone will bet twenty +drinks with any one of his customers that he can prove such doctrines at +fault. He can secure the election of his favorite candidate with the +same facility that he can make an hundred paupers per week. You may well +believe him a choice flower in the bouquet of the corporation; we mean +the corporation that banquets and becomes jubilant while assassins stab +their victims in the broad street--that becomes befogged while bands of +ruffians disgrace the city with their fiendish outrages--that makes +presidents and drinks whiskey when the city would seem given over to the +swell-mobsman--when no security is offered to life, and wholesale +harlotry, flaunting with naked arms and bared bosoms, passes along in +possession of Broadway by night. + +It is the night succeeding the day Lady Swiggs discovered, at the house +of the Foreign Missions, the loss of her cherished donations. As this is +a world of disappointments, Lady Swiggs resigns herself to this most +galling of all, and with her Milton firmly grasped in her hand, may be +seen in a little room at Sister Scudder's, rocking herself in the +arm-chair, and wondering if Brother Spyke has captured the +robber-wretch. A chilly wind howls, and a drizzling rain falls thick +over the dingy dwellings of the Points, which, sullen and dark, seem in +a dripping mood. A glimmering light, here and there, throws curious +shadows over the liquid streets. Now the drenched form of some +half-naked and homeless being is reflected, standing shivering in the +entrance to some dark and narrow alley; then the half-crazed inebriate +hurries into the open door of a dismal cellar, or seeks eagerly a +shelter for his bewildered head, in some suspicious den. Flashing +through the shadow of the police lamp, in "Cow Bay," a forlorn female is +seen, a bottle held tightly under her shawl. Sailing as it were into the +bottomless pit of the house of the Nine Nations, then suddenly returning +with the drug, seeking the cheerless garret of her dissolute partner, +and there striving to blunt her feelings against the horrors of +starvation. + +Two men stand, an umbrella over their heads, at the corner, in the glare +of the bottomless pit, which is in a blaze of light, and crowded with +savage-faced figures, of various ages and colors,--all habited in the +poison-seller's uniform of rags. "I don't think you'll find him here, +sir," says one, addressing the other, who is tall and slender of person, +and singularly timid. "God knows I am a stranger here. To-morrow I leave +for Antioch," is the reply, delivered in nervous accents. The one is +Brother Syngleton Spyke, the other Mr. Detective Fitzgerald, a man of +more than middle stature, with compact figure, firmly-knit limbs, and an +expression of countenance rather pleasant. + +"You see, sir, this Toddleworth is a harmless creature, always aims to +be obliging and civil. I don't, sir--I really don't think he'll steal. +But one can't tell what a man will do who is driven to such straits as +the poor devils here are. We rather like Toddleworth at the station, +look upon him as rather wanting in the head, and for that reason rather +incline to favor him. I may say we now and then let him 'tie up' all +night in the station. And for this he seems very thankful. I may say," +continues Mr. Fitzgerald, touching the visor of his cap, "that he always +repays with kindness any little attention we may extend to him at the +station, and at times seems too anxious to make it his home. We give him +a shirt and a few shillings now and then; and when we want to be rid of +him we begin to talk about fashionable wives. He is sure to go then. +Can't stand such a topic, I assure you, sir, and is sure to go off in a +huff when Sergeant Pottle starts it." + +They enter the great door of the bottomless pit; the young missionary +hesitates. His countenance changes, his eyes scan steadily over the +scene. A room some sixty feet by twenty opens to his astonished eyes. +Its black, boarded walls, and bare beams, are enlivened here and there +with extravagant pictures of notorious pugilists, show-bills, and +illustrated advertisements of lascivious books, in which the murder of +an unfortunate woman is the principal feature. Slippery mud covers the +floor. Mr. Krone sits on an empty whiskey-barrel, his stunted features +betraying the hardened avarice of his character. He smokes his black +pipe, folds his arms deliberately, discoursing of the affairs of the +nation to two stupefied negroes and one blear-eyed son of the Emerald +Isle. Three uncouth females, with hair hanging matted over their faces, +and their features hidden in distortion, stand cooling their bared limbs +at a running faucet just inside the door, to the left. A group of +half-naked negroes lie insensible on the floor, to the right. A little +further on two prostrate females, shivering, and reeking of gin, sleep +undisturbed by the profanity that is making the very air resound. "The +gin gets a-many of us," is the mournful cry of many a wasting inebriate. +Mr. Krone, however, will tell you he has no sympathy with such cries. +You arraign, and perhaps punish, the apothecary who sells by mistake his +deadly drug. With a philosophical air, Mr. Krone will tell you he deals +out his poison without scruple, fills alms-houses without a pang of +remorse, and proves that a politician-maker may do much to degrade +society and remain in high favor with his friends of the bench of +justice. On one side of the dungeon-like place stands a rickety old +counter, behind which three savage-faced men stand, filling and serving +incessant potions of deleterious liquor to the miserable beings, haggard +and ragged, crowding to be first served. Behind the bar, or counter, +rises a pyramid of dingy shelves, on which are arranged little painted +kegs, labelled, and made bright by the glaring gas-light reflected upon +them. On the opposite side, on rows of slab benches, sit a group of +motley beings,--the young girl and the old man, the negro and the frail +white,--half sleeping, half conscious; all imbibing the stifling +draught. + +Like revelling witches in rags, and seen through the bedimmed atmosphere +at the further end of the den, are half-frantic men, women, and girls, +now sitting at deal tables, playing for drinks, now jostling, jeering, +and profaning in wild disorder. A girl of sixteen, wasted and deformed +with dissipation, approaches Brother Spyke, extends her blanched hand, +and importunes him for gin. He shudders, and shrinks from her touch, as +from a reptile. A look of scorn, and she turns from him, and is lost +among the grotesque crowd in the distance. + +"This gin," says Mr. Fitzgerald, turning methodically to Brother Spyke, +"they make do for food and clothing. We used to call this the devil's +paradise. As to Krone, we used to call him the devil's bar-tender. These +ragged revellers, you see, beg and steal during the day, and get gin +with it at night. Krone thinks nothing of it! Lord bless your soul, sir! +why, this man is reckoned a tip-top politician; on an emergency he can +turn up such a lot of votes!" Mr. Fitzgerald, approaching Mr. Krone, +says "you're a pretty fellow. Keeping such a place as this!" The +detective playfully strikes the hat of the other, crowding it over his +eyes, and inquiring if he has seen Tom Toddleworth during the day. Mr. +Toddleworth was not seen during the day. No one in the bottomless pit +knows where he may be found. A dozen husky voices are heard to say, he +has no home--stores himself away anywhere, and may be found everywhere. + +Brother Spyke bows, and sighs. Mr. Fitzgerald says: "he is always +harmless--this Toddleworth." As the two searchers are about to withdraw, +the shrunken figure of a woman rushes wildly into the pit. "Devils! +devils!--hideous devils of darkness! here you are--still +hover--hover--hovering; turning midnight into revelling, day into horrid +dreaming!" she shrieks at the top of her voice. Now she pauses suddenly, +and with a demoniacal laugh sets her dull, glassy eyes on Mr. Krone, +then walks round him with clenched fists and threatening gestures. The +politician-maker sits unmoved. Now she throws her hair about her bare +breasts, turns her eyes upward, imploringly, and approaches Brother +Spyke, with hand extended. Her tale of sorrow and suffering is written +in her very look. "She won't hurt you--never harms anybody;" says Mr. +Fitzgerald, methodically, observing Brother Spyke's timidity. + +"No, no, no," she mutters incoherently, "you are not of this place--you +know, like the rich world up-town, little of these revelling devils. +Cling! yes, cling to the wise one--tell him to keep you from this, and +forever be your teacher. Tell him! tell him! oh! tell him!" She wrings +her hands, and having sailed as it were into the further end of the pit, +vaults back, and commences a series of wild gyrations round Mr. Krone. + +"Poor wretch!" says Brother Spyke, complacently, "the gin has dried up +her senses--made her what she is." + +"Maniac Munday! Maniac Munday!" suddenly echoes and re-echoes through +the pit. She turns her ear, and with a listless countenance listens +attentively, then breaks out into an hysterical laugh. "Yes! ye +loathsome denizens. Like me, no one seeks you, no one cares for you. I +am poor, poor maniac Munday. The maniac that one fell error brought to +this awful end." Again she lowers her voice, flings her hair back over +her shoulders, and gives vent to her tears. Like one burdened with +sorrow she commences humming an air, that even in this dark den floats +sweetly through the polluted atmosphere. "Well, I am what I am," she +sighs, having paused in her tune. "That one fatal step--that plighted +faith! How bitter to look back." Her bony fingers wander to her lips, +which she commences biting and fretting, as her countenance becomes pale +and corpse-like. Again her reason takes its flight. She staggers to the +drenched counter, holds forth her bottle, lays her last sixpence +tauntingly upon the board, and watches with glassy eyes the drawing of +the poisonous drug. Meanwhile Mr. Krone, with an imprecation, declares +he has power to elect his candidate to the Senate. The man behind the +counter--the man of savage face, has filled the maniac's bottle, which +he pushes toward her with one hand, as with the other he sweeps her coin +into a drawer. "Oh! save poor maniac Munday--save poor maniac Munday!" +the woman cries, like one in despair, clutching the bottle, and reels +out of the pit. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII. + +IN WHICH IS PRESENTED ANOTHER PICTURE OF THE HOUSE OF THE NINE NATIONS. + + +Pale and hesitating, Brother Spyke says: "I have no passion for delving +into such places; and having seen enough for one night, am content to +leave the search for this vile old man to you." The valiant missionary +addresses Mr. Fitzgerald, who stands with one foot upon the rickety old +steps that lead to the second story of the House of the Nine Nations. + +This morning, Brother Spyke was ready to do battle with the whole +heathen world, to drag it up into light, to evangelize it. Now he quails +before this heathen world, so terribly dark, at his own door. + +"You have, sir," says the detective, "seen nuthin' as yet. The sights +are in these 'ere upper dens; but, I may say it, a body wants nerve. +Some of our Aldermen say ye can't see such sights nowhere else." + +The missionary replies, holding tenaciously to his umbrella, "That may +be true; but I fear they will be waiting me at home." Again he scans +inquiringly into the drenched area of the Points; then bidding the +officer good-night, is soon out of sight, on his way into Centre Street. +Reaching the old stoop, the detective touches a spring, and the +shattered door opens into a narrow, gloomy passage, along which he +gropes his way, over a floor cobbled with filth, and against an +atmosphere thick of disease. Now a faint light flashes through a crevice +in the left wall, plays fantastically upon the black surface of the +opposite, then dies away. The detective lights his lantern, stands a +moment with his ear turned, as if listening to the revelry in the +bottomless pit. A door opens to his touch, he enters a cave-like +room--it is the one from out which the light stole so curiously, and in +which all is misery and sadness. A few embers still burn in a great +brick fireplace, shedding a lurid glow over the damp, filthy walls, the +discolored ceiling, and the grotesque group upon the floor. "You needn't +come at this time of night--we are all honest people;" speaks a massive +negro, of savage visage, who (he is clothed in rags) sits at the left +side of the fireplace. He coaxes the remnant of his fire to cook some +coarse food he has placed in a small, black stew-pan, he watches with +steady gaze. Three white females (we blush to say it), their bare, +brawny arms resting on their knees, and their disfigured faces drooped +into their hands, form an half circle on the opposite side. + +"The world don't think nothin' of us down here--we haven't had a bite to +eat to-night," gruffly resumes the negro. + +"May them that have riches enjoy them, for to be supperless is no +uncommon thing wid us," interrupts one of the women, gathering about her +the shreds of her tattered garment, parting the matted hair over her +face, and revealing her ghastly features. The detective turns his light +full upon her. "If we live we live, if we die we die--nobody cares! Look +you yonder, Mr. Fitzgerald," continues the negro, with a sarcastic leer. +Turning his light to where the negro points, the detective casts a +glance into the shadow, and there discovers the rags move. A dozen pair +of glassy eyes are seen peering from out the filthy coverings, over +which lean arms and blanched hands keep up an incessant motion. Here an +emaciated and heart-sick Welsh girl, of thirteen (enciente) lays +shivering on the broken floor; there an half-famished Scotch woman, two +moaning children nestling at her heart, suffers uncovered upon a pallet +of straw. The busy world without would seem not to have a care for her; +the clergy have got the heathen world upon their shoulders. Hunger, like +a grim tyrant, has driven her to seek shelter in this wretched abode. +Despair has made her but too anxious that the grave or prison walls +should close the record of her sorrows. How tightly she with her right +hand presses her babe to her bosom; how appealingly with her left she +asks a pittance of the detective! Will he not save from death her +starving child? He has nothing to give her, turns his head, answers only +with a look of pity, and moves slowly towards the door. + +"You have not been long off the Island, Washington?" inquires the +detective, with an air of familiarity. + +"I wish," replies the negro, sullenly, "I was back. An honest man as I +is, can't get on in this world. Necessity makes rascals of better men +than me, Mr. Fitzgerald. Mr. Krone (he's a white man, though) makes all +the politicians for the district, and charges me eight dollars a month +for this hole. Just measure them two things together, Mr. Fitzgerald; +then see if takin' in sixpenny, lodgers pays." Mr. Fitzgerald commences +counting them. "You needn't count," pursues the negro, uncovering his +stew-pan, "there's only eighteen in to-night. Have twenty, sometimes! +Don't get nothin' for that poor Scotch woman an' her children. Can't +get it when they hain't got it--you know that, Mr. Fitzgerald." + +The detective inquires if any of them have seen Mr. Toddleworth to-day. +Washington has not seen him, and makes no scruple of saying he thinks +very little of him. + +"Faith an' it's hard times with poor Tom," speaks up one of the women, +in a deep brogue. "It was only last night--the same I'm tellin' is true, +God knows--Mrs. McCarty took him to the Rookery--the divil a mouthful +he'd ate durin' the day--and says, bein' a ginerous sort of body, come, +take a drop, an' a bite to ate. Mister Toddleworth did that same, and +thin lay the night on the floor. To-night--it's the truth, God +knows--Tom Downey took him above. An' it's Tom who woundn't be the frind +of the man who hadn't a shillin' in his pocket." + +The detective shrugs his shoulders, and having thanked the woman, +withdraws into the passage, to the end of which he cautiously picks his +way, and knocks at a distained door that fronts him. A voice deep and +husky bids him enter, which he does, as the lurid glare of his lantern +reveals a room some twelve by sixteen feet, the plaster hanging in +festoons from the black walls, and so low of ceiling that he scarce can +stand upright. Four bunk-beds, a little bureau, a broken chair or two, +and a few cheap pictures, hung here and there on the sombre walls, give +it an air of comfort in grateful contrast with the room just left. "Who +lives here?" inquires the detective, turning his light full upon each +object that attracts his attention. "Shure it's only me--Mrs. Terence +Murphy--and my three sisters (the youngest is scarce fourteen), and the +two English sisters: all honest people, God knows," replies Mrs. Murphy, +with a rapid tongue. + +"It's not right of you to live this way," returns the detective, +continuing to survey the prostrate forms of Mrs. Murphy, her three +sisters, and the two fair-haired English girls, and the besotted beings +they claim as husbands. Alarm is pictured in every countenance. A +browned face withdraws under a dingy coverlid, an anxious face peers +from out a pallet on the floor, a prostrate figure in the corner +inquires the object of Mr. Detective Fitzgerald's visit--and Mrs. +Murphy, holding it more becoming of respectable society, leaves the bed +in which she had accommodated five others, and gets into one she calls +her own. A second thought, and she makes up her mind not to get into +bed, but to ask Mr. Fitzgerald if he will be good enough, when next he +meets his Onher, the Mayor, just to say to him how Mr. Krone is bringing +disgrace upon the house and every one in it, by letting rooms to +negroes. Here she commences pouring out her pent-up wrath upon the head +of Mr. Krone, and the colored gentleman, whom she declares has a dozen +white females in his room every night. The detective encourages her by +saying it is not right of Mr. Krone, who looks more at the color of his +money than the skin of his tenants. "To come of a dacint family--and be +brought to this!" says Mrs. Murphy, allowing her passion to rise, and +swearing to have revenge of the negro in the next room. + +"You drink this gin, yet--I have warned you against it," interposes the +detective, pointing to some bottles on the bureau. "Faith, an' it's the +gin gets a many of us," returns the woman, curtly, as she gathers about +her the skirts of her garments. "Onyhow, yerself wouldn't deprive us of +a drop now and then, jist to keep up the spirits." The detective shakes +his head, then discloses to them the object of his search, adding, in +parenthesis, that he does not think Mr. Toddleworth is the thief. A +dozen tongues are ready to confirm the detective's belief. "Not a +shillin' of it did the poor crature take--indeed he didn't, now, Mr. +Fitzgerald. 'Onor's 'onor, all over the wurld!" says Mrs. Murphy, +grasping the detective by the hand. "Stay till I tell ye all about it. +Mary Maguire--indeed an' ye knows her, Mr. Fitzgerald--this same +afternoon looked in to say--'how do ye do, Mrs. Murphy. See this! Mrs. +Murphy,' says she, 'an' the divil a sich a pocket of money I'd see +before, as she held in her right hand, jist. 'Long life to ye, Mary,' +says I. 'We'll have a pint, Mrs. Murphy,' says she. 'May ye niver want +the worth of it,' says I. And the pint was not long in, when Mary got a +little the worse of it, and let all out about the money. 'You won't +whisper it, Mrs. Murphy,' says she, 'if I'd tell ye in confidence by +what manes I got the lift?'" + +"'Not in the wide world, Mary,' says I; 'ye may trust me for that same.' +'Shure didn't I raise it from the pocket of an auld woman in spectacles, +that watched the fool beyant dig up the corporation.' 'An' it'll not do +yerself much good,' says I, liftin' the same, and cuttin' away to the +house. 'You won't whisper it?' says she." + +"I can confirm the truth of that same," rejoins a brusque-figured man, +rising from his pallet, and speaking with regained confidence. "Mary +looked in at the Blazers, and being the worse of liquor, showed a dale +of ready money, and trated everybody, and gave the money to everybody, +and was wilcome wid everybody. Then Mrs. McCarty got aboard of her +ginerosity, and got her into the Rookery, where the Miss McCartys +thought it would not be amiss to have a quart. The same was brought in, +and Mary hersel' was soon like a dead woman on the floor, jist--" + +"And they got the money all away?" interrupts the detective. + +"Faith, an' she'll not have a blessed dollar come daylight," continues +the man, resuming his pallet. + +The detective bids Mrs. Murphy good night, and is soon groping his way +over a rickety old floor, along a dark, narrow passage, scarce high +enough to admit him, and running at right angles with the first. A door +on the left opens into a grotto-like place, the sickly atmosphere of +which seems hurling its poison into the very blood. "Who's here?" +inquires the detective, and a voice, feeble and hollow, responds: +"Lodgers!" + +The damp, greasy walls; the broken ceilings; the sooty fireplace, with +its shattered bricks; the decayed wainscoating--its dark, forlorn +aspect, all bespeak it the fit abode of rats. And yet Mr. Krone thinks +it comfortable enough (the authorities think Mr. Krone the best judge) +for the accommodation of thirteen remnants of human misery, all of whom +are here huddled together on the wet, broken floor, borrowing warmth of +one another. The detective's light falls curiously upon the dread +picture, which he stands contemplating. A pale, sickly girl, of some +eleven summers, her hair falling wildly over her wan features, lays upon +some rags near the fireplace, clinging to an inebriated mother. Here a +father, heart-sick and prostrate with disease, seeks to keep warm his +three ragged children, nestling about him. An homeless outcast, +necessity forces him to send them out to prey upon the community by day, +and to seek in this wretched hovel a shelter at night. Yonder the rags +are thrown back, a moving mass is disclosed, and there protrudes a +disfigured face, made ghostly by the shadow of the detective's lantern. +At the detective's feet a prostrate girl, insensible of gin, is seized +with convulsions, clutches with wasted hands at the few rags about her +poor, flabby body, then with fingers grasping, and teeth firmly set, her +whole frame writhes in agony. Your missionary never whispered a kind, +encouraging word in her ear; his hand never pressed that blanched bone +with which she now saddens your heart! Different might it have been with +her had some gentle-tongued Brother Spyke sought her out, bore patiently +with her waywardness, snatched her from this life of shame, and placed +her high in an atmosphere of light and love. + +It is here, gentle shepherds, the benighted stand most in need of your +labors. Seek not to evangelize the Mahomedan world until you have worked +a reform here; and when you have done it, a monument in heaven will be +your reward. + +"Mr. Toddleworth is not here," says the detective, withdrawing into the +passage, then ascending a broken and steep stairs that lead into the +third story. Nine shivering forms crouched in one dismal room; four +squabbish women, and three besotted men in another; and in a third, nine +ragged boys and two small girls--such are the scenes of squalid misery +presented here. In a little front room, Mr. Tom Downey, his wife, and +eight children, lay together upon the floor, half covered with rags. Mr. +Downey startles at the appearance of the detective, rises nervously from +his pallet, and after the pause of a moment, says: "Indeed, yer welcome, +Mr. Fitzgerald. Indeed, I have not--an' God knows it's the truth I +tell--seen Mr. Toddleworth the week;" he replies, in answer to a +question from the detective. + +"You took a drop with him this afternoon?" continues the detective, +observing his nervousness. + +"God knows it's a mistake, Mr. Fitzgerald." Mr. Downey changes the +subject, by saying the foreigners in the garret are a great nuisance, +and disturb him of his rest at night. + +A small, crooked stair leads into "Organ-grinders' Roost," in the +garret. To "Organ-grinders' Roost" the detective ascends. If, reader, +you have ever pictured in your mind the cave of despair, peopled by +beings human only in shape, you may form a faint idea of the +wretchedness presented in "Organ-grinders' Roost," at the top of the +house of the Nine Nations. Seven stalworth men shoot out from among a +mass of rags on the floor, and with dark, wandering eyes, and massive, +uncombed beards, commence in their native Italian a series of +interrogatories, not one of which the detective can understand. They +would inquire for whom he seeks at this strange hour. He (the detective) +stands unmoved, as with savage gesture--he has discovered his star--they +tell him they are famishing of hunger. A pretty black-eyed girl, to +whose pale, but beautifully oval face an expression of sorrow lends a +touching softness, lays on the bare floor, beside a mother of +patriarchal aspect. Now she is seized with a sharp cough that brings +blood at every paroxysm. As if forgetting herself, she lays her hand +gently upon the cheek of her mother, anxious to comfort her. Ah! the +hard hand of poverty has been upon her through life, and stubbornly +refuses to relax its grip, even in her old age. An organ forms here and +there a division between the sleepers; two grave-visaged monkeys sit +chattering in the fireplace, then crouch down on the few charred sticks. +A picture of the crucifix is seen conspicuous over the dingy fireplace, +while from the slanting roof hang several leathern girdles. Oh, what a +struggle for life is their's! Mothers, fathers, daughters, and little +children, thus promiscuously grouped, and coming up in neglect and +shame. There an old man, whom remorseless death is just calling into +eternity, with dull, glassy eyes, white, flowing beard, bald head, +sunken mouth, begrimed and deeply-wrinkled face, rises, spectre-like, +from his pallet. Now he draws from his breast a small crucifix, and +commences muttering to it in a guttural voice. "Peace, peace, good old +man--the holy father will come soon--the holy virgin will come soon: he +will receive the good spirit to his bosom," says a black-eyed daughter, +patting him gently upon the head, then looking in his face solicitously, +as he turns his eyes upward, and for a few moments seems invoking the +mercy of the Allwise. "Yes, father," she resumes, lightening up the mat +of straw upon which he lays, "the world has been unkind to you, but you +are passing from it to a better--you will be at peace soon." + +"Soon, soon, soon," mumbles the old man, in a whisper; and having +carefully returned the crucifix to his bosom, grasps fervently the hand +of the girl and kisses it, as her eyes swim in tears. + +Such, to the shame of those who live in princely palaces, and revel in +luxury, are but faintly-drawn pictures of what may be seen in the house +of the Nine Nations. + +The detective is about to give up the search, and turns to descend the +stairs, when suddenly he discerns a passage leading to the north end of +the garret. Here, in a little closet-like room, on the right, the rats +his only companions, lies the prostrate form of poor Toddleworth. + +"Well, I persevered till I found you," says the detective, turning his +light full upon the body. Another minute, and his features become as +marble; he stands aghast, and his whole frame seems struggling under the +effect of some violent shock. "What, what, what!" he shouts, in nervous +accents, "Murder! murder! murder! some one has murdered him." Motionless +the form lies, the shadow of the light revealing the ghastly spectacle. +The head lies in a pool of blood, the bedimmed eyes, having taken their +last look, remain fixedly set on the black roof. "He has died of a +blow--of a broken skull!" says the frightened official, feeling, and +feeling, and pressing the arms and hands that are fast becoming rigid. +Life is gone out; a pauper's grave will soon close over what remains of +this wretched outcast. The detective hastens down stairs, spreads the +alarm over the neighborhood, and soon the House of the Nine Nations is +the scene of great excitement. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX. + +IN WHICH MAY BE SEEN A FEW OF OUR COMMON EVILS. + + +Leaving for a time the scenes in the House of the Nine Nations, let us +return to Charleston, that we may see how matters appertaining to this +history are progressing. Mr. Snivel is a popular candidate for the +Senate of South Carolina; and having shot his man down in the street, +the question of his fighting abilities we regard as honorably settled. +Madame Montford, too, has by him been kept in a state of nervous +anxiety, for he has not yet found time to search in the "Poor-house for +the woman Munday." All our very first, and best-known families, have +dropped Madame, who is become a wet sheet on the fashionable world. A +select committee of the St. Cecilia has twice considered her expulsion, +while numerous very respectable and equally active old ladies have been +shaking their scandal-bags at her head. Sins have been laid at her door +that would indeed damage a reputation with a fairer endorsement than New +York can give. + +Our city at this moment is warmed into a singular state of excitement. A +Georgia editor (we regard editors as belonging to a very windy class of +men), not having the mightiness of our chivalry before him, said the +Union would have peace if South Carolina were shut up in a penitentiary. +And for this we have invited the indiscreet gentleman to step over the +border, that we may hang him, being extremely fond of such common-place +amusements. What the facetious fellow meant was, that our own State +would enjoy peace and prosperity were our mob-politicians all in the +penitentiary. And with this sensible opinion we heartily agree. + +We regard our state of civilization as extremely enviable. To-day we +made a lion of the notorious Hines, the forger. Hines, fashioning after +our hapless chivalry, boasts that South Carolina is his State--his +political mother. He has, nevertheless, graced with his presence no few +penitentiaries. We feasted him in that same prison where we degrade and +starve the honest poor; we knew him guilty of an heinous crime--yet we +carried him jubilantly to the "halls of justice." And while +distinguished lawyers tendered their services to the "clever villain," +you might have witnessed in sorrow a mock trial, and heard a mob +sanction with its acclamations his release. + +Oh, truth and justice! how feeble is thy existence where the god slavery +reigns. And while men are heard sounding the praises of this highwayman +at the street corners, extolling men who have shot down their fellow-men +in the streets, and calling those "Hon. gentlemen," who have in the most +cowardly manner assassinated their opponents, let us turn to a different +picture. Two genteely-dressed men are seen entering the old, jail. "I +have twice promised them a happy surprise," says one, whose pale, +studious features, wear an expression of gentleness. The face of the +other is somewhat florid, but beaming with warmth of heart. They enter, +having passed up one of the long halls, a room looking into the +prison-yard. Several weary-faced prisoners are seated round a deal +table, playing cards; among them is the old sailor described in the +early part of this history. "You don't know my friend, here?" says the +young man of the studious face, addressing the prisoners, and pointing +to his companion. The prisoners look inquiringly at the stranger, then +shake their heads in response. + +"No, you don't know me: you never knew me when I was a man," speaks the +stranger, raising his hat, as a smile lights up his features. "You don't +know Tom Swiggs, the miserable inebriate--" + +A spontaneous shout of recognition, echoing and reechoing through the +old halls, interrupts this declaration. One by one the imprisoned men +grasp him by the hand, and shower upon him the warmest, the heartiest +congratulations. A once fallen brother has risen to a knowledge of his +own happiness. Hands that raised him from that mat of straw, when the +mental man seemed lost, now welcome him restored, a purer being. + +"Ah, Spunyarn," says Tom, greeting the old sailor with childlike +fondness, as the tears are seen gushing into the eyes, and coursing down +the browned face of the old mariner, "I owe you a debt I fear I never +can pay. I have thought of you in my absence, and had hoped on my return +to see you released. I am sorry you are not--" + +"Well, as to that," interrupts the old sailor, his face resuming its +wonted calm, "I can't--you know I can't, Tom,--sail without a clearance. +I sometimes think I'm never going to get one. Two years, as you know, +I've been here, now backing and then filling, in and out, just as it +suits that chap with the face like a snatch-block. They call him a +justice. 'Pon my soul, Tom, I begin to think justice for us poor folks +is got aground. Well, give us your hand agin' (he seizes Tom by the +hand); its all well wi' you, anyhows.' + +"Yes, thank God," says Tom, returning his friendly shake, "I have +conquered the enemy, and my thanks for it are due to those who reached +my heart with kind words, and gave me a brother's hand. I was not dead +to my own degradation; but imprisonment left me no hope. The sting of +disappointment may pain your feelings; hope deferred may torture you +here in a prison; the persecutions of enemies may madden your very soul; +but when a mother turns coldly from you--No, I will not say it, for I +love her still--" he hesitates, as the old sailor says, with touching +simplicity, he never knew what it was to have a mother or father. Having +spread before the old man and his companions sundry refreshments he had +ordered brought in, and received in return their thanks, he inquires of +Spunyarn how it happened that he got into prison, and how it is that he +remains here a fixture. + +"I'll tell you, Tom," says the old sailor, commencing his story. "We'd +just come ashore--had a rough passage--and, says I to myself, here's lay +up ashore awhile. So I gets a crimp, who takes me to a crib. 'It's all +right here--you'll have snug quarters, Jack,' says he, introducing me to +the chap who kept it. I gives him twenty dollars on stack, and gets up +my chest and hammock, thinking it was all fair and square. Then I meets +an old shipmate, who I took in tow, he being hard ashore for cash. 'Let +us top the meetin' with a glass,' says I. 'Agreed,' says Bill, and I +calls her on, the very best. 'Ten cents a glass,' says the fellow behind +the counter, giving us stuff that burnt as it went. 'Mister,' says I, +'do ye want to poison a sailor?' 'If you no like him,' says he, 'go get +better somewhere else.' I told him to give me back the twenty, and me +dunnage. + +"'You don't get him--clear out of mine 'ouse,' says he. + +"'Under the peak,' says I, fetching him a but under the lug that beached +him among his beer-barrels. He picked himself up, and began talking +about a magistrate. And knowing what sort of navigation a fellow'd have +in the hands of that sort of land-craft, I began to think about laying +my course for another port. 'Hold on here,' says a big-sided +land-lubber, seizing me by the fore-sheets. 'Cast off there,' says I, +'or I'll put ye on yer beam-ends.' + +"'I'm a constable,' says he, pulling out a pair of irons he said must go +on my hands." + +"I hope he did not put them on," interrupts the young theologian, for it +is he who accompanies Tom. + +"Avast! I'll come to that. He said he'd only charge me five dollars for +going to jail without 'em, so rather than have me calling damaged, I giv +him it. It was only a trifle. 'Now, Jack,' says the fellow, as we went +along, in a friendly sort of way, 'just let us pop in and see the +justice. I think a ten 'll get ye a clearance.' 'No objection to that,' +says I, and in we went, and there sat the justice, face as long and +sharp as a marlinspike, in a dirty old hole, that looked like our +forecastle. 'Bad affair this, Jack,' says he, looking up over his +spectacles. 'You must be locked up for a year and a day, Jack.' + +"'You'll give a sailor a hearin', won't ye?' says I. 'As to that,--well, +I don't know, Jack; you musn't break the laws of South Carolina when you +get ashore. You seem like a desirable sailor, and can no doubt get a +ship and good wages--this is a bad affair. However, as I'm not inclined +to be hard, if you are disposed to pay twenty dollars, you can go.' 'Law +and justice,' says I, shaking my fist at him--'do ye take this +salt-water citizen for a fool?' + +"'Take him away, Mr. Stubble--lock him up!--lock him up!' says the +justice, and here I am, locked up, hard up, hoping. I'd been tied up +about three weeks when the justice looked in one day, and after +inquiring for me, and saying, 'good morning, Jack,' and seeming a little +by the head: 'about this affair of yourn, Jack,' says he, 'now, if +you'll mind your eye when you get out--my trouble's worth ten +dollars--and pay me, I'll discharge you, and charge the costs to the +State.' + +"'Charge the cost to the State!' says I. 'Do you take Spunyarn for a +marine?' At this he hauled his wind, and stood out." + +"You have had a hearing before the Grand Jury, have you not?" inquires +Tom, evincing a deep interest in the story of his old friend. + +"Not I. This South Carolina justice is a hard old craft to sail in. The +Grand Jury only looks in once every six months, and then looks out +again, without inquiring who's here. And just before the time it comes +round, I'm shuffled out, and just after it has left, I'm shuffled in +again--fees charged to the State! That's it. So here I am, a fee-making +machine, bobbing in and out of jail to suit the conveniences of Mister +Justice. I don't say this with any ill will--I don't." Having concluded +his story, the old sailor follows his visitors to the prison gate, takes +an affectionate leave of Tom Swiggs, and returns to join his companions. +On the following day, Tom intercedes with Mr. Snivel, for it is he who +thus harvests fees of the State by retaining the old sailor in prison, +and procures his release. And here, in Mr. Snivel, you have an +instrument of that debased magistracy which triumphs over the weak, that +sits in ignorance and indolence, that invests the hypocritical designer +with a power almost absolute, that keeps justice muzzled on her +throne--the natural offspring of that demon-making institution that +scruples not to brunt the intellect of millions, while dragging a pall +of sloth over the land. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX. + +CONTAINING VARIOUS THINGS APPERTAINING TO THIS HISTORY. + + +Maria McArthur having, by her womanly sympathy, awakened the generous +impulses of Tom Swiggs, he is resolved they shall have a new channel for +their action. Her kindness touched his heart; her solicitude for his +welfare gained his affections, and a recognition of that love she so +long and silently cherished for him, is the natural result. The heart +that does not move to woman's kindness, must indeed be hard. But there +were other things which strengthened Tom's affections for Maria. The +poverty of her aged father; the insults offered her by Keepum and +Snivel; the manner in which they sought her ruin while harassing her +father; the artlessness and lone condition of the pure-minded girl; and +the almost holy affection evinced for the old man on whom she doted--all +tended to bring him nearer and nearer to her, until he irresistibly +found himself at her feet, pledging that faith lovers call eternal. +Maria is not of that species of being the world calls beautiful; but +there is about her something pure, thoughtful, even noble; and this her +lone condition heightens. Love does not always bow before beauty. The +singularities of human nature are most strikingly blended in woman. She +can overcome physical defects; she can cultivate attractions most +appreciated by those who study her worth deepest. Have you not seen +those whose charms at first-sight found no place in your thoughts, but +as you were drawn nearer and nearer to them, so also did your esteem +quicken, and that esteem, almost unconsciously, you found ripening into +affection, until in turn you were seized with an ardent passion? You +have. And you have found yourself enamored of the very one against whom +you had endeavored most to restrain your generous impulses. Like the +fine lines upon a picture with a repulsive design, you trace them, and +recur to them until your admiration is carried away captive. So it is +with woman's charms. Tom Swiggs, then, the restored man, bows before the +simple goodness of the daughter of the old Antiquary. + +Mr. Trueman, the shipowner, gave Tom employment, and has proved a friend +to him. Tom, in turn, has so far gained his confidence and respect that +Mr. Trueman contemplates sending him to London, on board one of his +ships. Nor has Tom forgotten to repay the old Antiquary, who gave him a +shelter when he was homeless; this home is still under the roof of the +old man, toward whose comfort he contributes weekly a portion of his +earnings. If you could but look into that little back-parlor, you would +see a picture of humble cheerfulness presented in the old man, his +daughter, and Tom Swiggs, seated round the tea-table. Let us, however, +turn and look into one of our gaudy saloons, that we may see how +different a picture is presented there. + +It is the night previous to an election for Mayor. Leaden clouds hang +threatening over the city; the gas-light throws out its shadows at an +early hour; and loud-talking men throng our street-corners and public +resorts. Our politicians tell us that the destiny of the rich and the +poor is to forever guard that institution which employs all our +passions, and absorbs all our energies. + +In a curtained box, at the St. Charles, sits Mr. Snivel and George +Mullholland--the latter careworn and downcast of countenance. "Let us +finish this champaign, my good fellow," says the politician, emptying +his glass. "A man--I mean one who wants to get up in the world--must, +like me, have two distinct natures. He must have a grave, moral +nature--that is necessary to the affairs of State. And he must, to +accommodate himself to the world (law and society, I mean), have a +terribly loose nature--a perfect quicksand, into which he can drag +everything that serves himself. You have seen how I can develop both +these, eh?" The downcast man shakes his head, as the politician watches +him with a steady gaze. "Take the advice of a friend, now, let the Judge +alone--don't threaten again to shoot that girl. Threats are sometimes +dragged in as testimony against a man (Mr. Snivel taps George +admonishingly on the arm); and should anything of a serious nature +befall her--the law is curious--why, what you have said might implicate +you, though you were innocent." + +"You," interrupts George, "have shot your man down in the street." + +"A very different affair, George. My position in society protects me. I +am a member of the Jockey-Club, a candidate for the State Senate--a +Justice of the Peace--yes, a politician! You are--Well, I was going to +say--nothing! We regard northerners as enemies; socially, they are +nothing. Come, George, come with me. I am your best friend. You shall +see the power in my hands." The two men saunter out together, pass up a +narrow lane leading from King Street, and are soon groping their way up +the dark stairway of an old, neglected-looking wooden building, that for +several years has remained deserted by everything but rats and +politicians,--one seeming to gnaw away at the bowels of the nation, the +other at the bowels of the old building. Having ascended to the second +floor, Mr. Snivel touches a spring, a suspicious little trap opens, and +two bright eyes peer out, as a low, whispering voice inquires, "Who's +there?" Mr. Snivel has exchanged the countersign, and with his companion +is admitted into a dark vestibule, in which sits a brawny guardsman. + +"Cribs are necessary, sir--I suppose you never looked into one before?" + +George, in a voice discovering timidity, says he never has. + +"You must have cribs, and crib-voters; they are necessary to get into +high office--indeed, I may say, to keep up with the political spirit of +the age." Mr. Snivel is interrupted by the deep, coarse voice of Milman +Mingle, the vote-cribber, whose broad, savage face looks out at a small +guard trap. "All right," he says, recognizing Mr. Snivel. Another +minute, and a door opens into a long, sombre-looking room, redolent of +the fumes of whiskey and tobacco. "The day is ours. We'll elect our +candidate, and then my election is certain; naturalized thirteen rather +green ones to-day--to-morrow they will be trump cards. Stubbs has +attended to the little matter of the ballot-boxes." Mr. Snivel gives the +vote-cribber's hand a warm shake, and turns to introduce his friend. The +vote-cribber has seen him before. "There are thirteen in," he says, and +two more he has in his eye, and will have in to-night, having sent +trappers out for them. + +Cold meats, bread, cheese, and crackers, and a bountiful supply of bad +whiskey, are spread over a table in the centre of the room; while the +pale light of two small lamps, suspended from the ceiling, throws a +curious shadow over the repulsive features of thirteen forlorn, ragged, +and half-drunken men, sitting here and there round the room, on wooden +benches. You see ignorance and cruelty written in their very +countenances. For nearly three weeks they have not scented the air of +heaven, but have been held here in a despicable bondage. Ragged and +filthy, like Falstaff's invincibles, they will be marched to the polls +to-morrow, and cast their votes at the bid of the cribber. "A happy lot +of fellows," says Mr. Snivel, exultingly. "I have a passion for this +sort of business--am general supervisor of all these cribs, you +understand. We have several of them. Some of these 'drifts' we kidnap, +and some come and be locked up of their own accord--merely for the feed +and drink. We use them, and then snuff them out until we want them +again." Having turned from George, and complimented the vote-cribber for +his skill, he bids him good-night. Together George and the politician +wend their way to an obscure part of the city, and having passed up two +flight of winding stairs, into a large, old-fashioned house on the Neck, +are in a sort of barrack-room, fitted up with bunks and benches, and +filled with a grotesque assembly, making night jubilant--eating, +drinking, smoking, and singing. "A jolly set of fellows," says Mr. +Snivel, with an expression of satisfaction. "This is a decoy crib--the +vagabonds all belong to the party of our opponents, but don't know it. +We work in this way: we catch them--they are mostly foreigners--lock +them up, give them good food and drink, and make them--not the half can +speak our language--believe we belong to the same party. They yield, as +submissive as curs. To morrow, we--this is in confidence--drug them all, +send them into a fast sleep, in which we keep them till the polls are +closed, then, not wanting them longer, we kick them out for a set of +drunkards. Dangerous sort of cribbing, this. I let you into the secret +out of pure friendship." Mr. Snivel pauses. George has at heart +something of deeper interest to him than votes and vote-cribbers. But +why, he says to himself, does Mr. Snivel evince this anxiety to befriend +me? This question is answered by Mr. Snivel inviting him to take a look +into the Keno den. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI. + +THE KENO DEN, AND WHAT MAY BE SEEN IN IT. + + +The clock has just struck twelve. Mr. Snivel and George, passing from +the scenes of our last chapter, enter a Keno den,[5] situated on Meeting +street. "You must get money, George. Here you are nothing without money. +Take this, try your hand, make your genius serve you." Mr. Snivel puts +twenty dollars into George's hand. They are in a room some twenty by +thirty feet in dimensions, dimly-lighted. Standing here and there are +gambling tables, around which are seated numerous mechanics, losing, and +being defrauded of that for which they have labored hard during the +week. Hope, anxiety, and even desperation is pictured on the +countenances of the players. Maddened and disappointed, one young man +rises from a table, at which sits a craven-faced man sweeping the +winnings into his pile, and with profane tongue, says he has lost his +all. Another, with flushed face and bloodshot eyes, declares it the +sixth time he has lost his earnings here. A third reels confusedly about +the room, says a mechanic is but a dog in South Carolina; and the sooner +he comes to a dog's end the better. + +[Footnote 5: A gambling den.] + +Mr. Snivel points George to a table, at which he is soon seated. +"Blank--blank--blank!" he reiterates, as the numbers turn up, and one by +one the moody bank-keeper sweeps the money into his fast-increasing +heap. "Cursed fate!--it is against me," mutters the forlorn man. +"Another gone, and yet another! How this deluding, this fascinating +money tortures me." With hectic face and agitated nerve, he puts down +his last dollar. "Luck's mysterious!" exclaims Mr. Snivel, looking on +unmoved, as the man of the moody face declares a blank, and again sweeps +the money into his heap. "Gone!" says George, "all's gone now." He rises +from his seat, in despair. + +"Don't get frantic, George--be a philosopher--try again--here's a ten. +Luck 'll turn," says Mr. Snivel, patting the deluded man familiarly on +the shoulder, as he resumes his seat. "Will poverty never cease +torturing me? I have tried to be a man, an honest man, a respectable +man. And yet, here I am, again cast upon a gambler's sea, struggling +with its fearful tempests. How cold, how stone-like the faces around +me!" he muses, watching with death-like gaze each number as it turns up. +Again he has staked his last dollar; again fortune frowns upon him. Like +a furnace of livid flame, the excitement seems burning up his brain. "I +am a fool again," he says, throwing the blank number contemptuously upon +the table. "Take it--take it, speechless, imperturbable man! Rake it +into your pile, for my eyes are dim, and my fortune I must seek +elsewhere." + +A noise at the door, as of some one in distress, is heard, and there +rushes frantically into the den a pale, dejected-looking woman, bearing +in her arms a sick and emaciated babe. "Oh, William! William!--has it +come to this?" she shrieks, casting a wild glance round the den, until, +with a dark, sad expression, her eye falls upon the object of her +search. It is her husband, once a happy mechanic. Enticed by degrees +into this den of ruin, becoming fascinated with its games of chance, he +is how an _habitue_. To-night he left his suffering family, lost his all +here, and now, having drank to relieve his feelings, lies insensible on +the floor. "Come home!--come home! for God's sake come home to your +suffering family," cries the woman, vaulting to him and taking him by +the hand, her hair floating dishevelled down her shoulders. "I sent +Tommy into the street to beg--I am ashamed--and he is picked up by the +watch for a thief, a vagrant!" The prostrate man remains insensible to +her appeal. Two policemen, who have been quietly neglecting their duties +while taking a few chances, sit unmoved. Mr. Snivel thinks the woman +better be removed. "Our half-starved mechanics," he says, "are a +depraved set; and these wives they bring with them from the North are a +sort of cross between a lean stage-driver and a wildcat. She seems a +poor, destitute creature--just what they all come to, out here." Mr. +Snivel shrugs his shoulders, bids George good night, and takes his +departure. "Take care of yourself, George," he says admonitiously, as +the destitute man watches him take his leave. The woman, frantic at the +coldness and apathy manifested for her distress, lays her babe hurriedly +upon the floor, and with passion and despair darting from her very eyes, +makes a lunge across the keno table at the man who sits stoically at the +bank. In an instant everything is turned into uproar and confusion. +Glasses, chairs, and tables, are hurled about the floor; shriek follows +shriek--"help! pity me! murder!" rises above the confusion, the watch +without sound the alarm, and the watch within suddenly become conscious +of their duty. In the midst of all the confusion, a voice cries out: +"My pocket book--my pocket book!--I have been robbed." A light flashes +from a guardsman's lantern, and George Mullholland is discovered with +the forlorn woman in his arms--she clings tenaciously to her +babe--rushing into the street. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII. + +WHICH A STATE OF SOCIETY IS SLIGHTLY REVEALED. + + +A week has rolled into the past since the event at the Keno den. + +Madame Montford, pale, thoughtful, and abstracted, sits musing in her +parlor. "Between this hope and fear--this remorse of conscience, this +struggle to overcome the suspicions of society, I have no peace. I am +weary of this slandering--this unforgiving world. And yet it is my own +conscience that refuses to forgive me. Go where I will I see the cold +finger of scorn pointed at me: I read in every countenance, 'Madame +Montford, you have wronged some one--your guilty conscience betrays +you!' I have sought to atone for my error--to render justice to one my +heart tells me I have wronged, yet I cannot shake off the dread burden; +and there seems rest for me only in the grave. Ah! there it is. The one +error of my life, and the moans used to conceal it, may have brought +misery upon more heads than one." She lays her hand upon her heart, and +shakes her head sorrowfully. "Yes! something like a death-knell rings in +my ears--'more than one have you sent, unhappy, to the grave.' Rejected +by the one I fancy my own; my very touch, scorned; my motives +misconstrued--all, perhaps, by--a doubt yet hangs between us--an +abandoned stranger. Duty to my conscience has driven me to acts that +have betrayed me to society. I cannot shake my guilt from me even for a +day; and now society coldly cancels all my claims to its attentions. If +I could believe her dead; if I but knew this girl was not the object of +all my heart's unrest, then the wearying doubt would be buried, and my +heart might find peace in some remote corner of the earth. Well, +well--perhaps I am wasting all this torture on an unworthy object. I +should have thought of this sooner, for now foul slander is upon every +tongue, and my misery is made thrice painful by my old flatterers. I +will make one more effort, then if I fail of getting a certain clue to +her, I will remove to some foreign country, shake off these haunting +dreams, and be no longer a victim to my own thoughts." Somewhat +relieved, Madame is roused from her reverie by a gentle tap at the door. +"I have waited your coming, and am glad to see you," she says, extending +her hand, as a servant, in response to her command, ushers into her +presence no less a person than Tom Swiggs. "I have sent for you," she +resumes, motioning him gracefully to a chair, in which she begs he will +be seated, "because I feel I can confide in you--" + +"Anything in my power is at your service, Madame," modestly interposes +Tom, regaining confidence. + +"I entrusted something of much importance to me, to Mr. Snivel--" + +"We call him the Hon. Mr. Snivel now, since he has got to be a great +politician," interrupts Tom. + +"And he not only betrayed my Confidence," pursues Madame Montford, "but +retains the amount I paid him, and forgets to render the promised +service. You, I am told, can render me a service--" + +"As for Mr. Snivel," pursues Tom, hastily, "he has of late had his hands +full, getting a poor but good-natured fellow, by the name of George +Mullholland, into trouble. His friend, Judge Sleepyhorn, and he, have +for some time had a plot on hand to crush this poor fellow. A few nights +ago Snivel drove him mad at a gambling den, and in his desperation he +robbed a man of his pocket-book. He shared the money with a poor woman +he rescued at the den, and that is the way it was discovered that he was +the criminal. He is a poor, thoughtless man, and he has been goaded on +from one thing to another, until he was driven to commit this act. +First, his wife was got away from him--" Tom pauses and blushes, as +Madame Montford says: "His wife was got away from him?" + +"Yes, Madame," returns Tom, with an expression of sincerity, "The Judge +got her away from him; and this morning he was arraigned before that +same Judge for examination, and Mr. Snivel was a principal witness, and +there was enough found against him to commit him for trial at the +Sessions." Discovering that this information is exciting her emotions, +Tom pauses, and contemplates her with steady gaze. She desires he will +be her guide to the Poor-House, and there assist her in searching for +Mag Munday, whom, report says, is confined in a cell. Tom having +expressed his readiness to serve her, they are soon on their way to that +establishment. + +A low, squatty building, with a red, moss-covered roof, two lean +chimneys peeping out, the windows blockaded with dirt, and situated in +one of the by-lanes of the city, is our Poor-House, standing half hid +behind a crabbed old wall, and looking very like a much-neglected +Quaker church in vegetation. We boast much of our institutions, and +this being a sample of them, we hold it in great reverence. You may say +that nothing so forcibly illustrates a state of society as the character +of its institutions for the care of those unfortunate beings whom a +capricious nature has deprived of their reason. We agree with you. We +see our Poor-House crumbling to the ground with decay, yet imagine it, +or affect to imagine it, a very grand edifice, in every way suited to +the wants of such rough ends of humanity as are found in it. Like Satan, +we are brilliant believers in ourselves, not bad sophists, and +singularly clever in finding apologies for all great crimes. + +At the door of the Poor-House stands a dilapidated hearse, to which an +old gray horse is attached. A number of buzzards have gathered about +him, turn their heads suspiciously now and then, and seem meditating a +descent upon his bones at no very distant day. Madame casts a glance at +the hearse, and the poor old horse, and the cawing buzzards, then +follows Tom, timidly, to the door. He has rung the bell, and soon there +stands before them, in the damp doorway, a fussy old man, with a very +broad, red face, and a very blunt nose, and two very dull, gray eyes, +which he fortifies with a fair of massive-framed spectacles, that have a +passion for getting upon the tip-end of his broad blunt nose. + +"There, you want to see somebody! Always somebody wanted to be seen, +when we have dead folks to get rid of," mutters the old man, +querulously, then looking inquiringly at the visitors. Tom says they +would like to go over the premises. "Yes--know you would. Ain't so dull +but I can see what folks want when they look in here." The old man, his +countenance wearing an expression of stupidity, runs his dingy fingers +over the crown of his bald head, and seems questioning within himself +whether to admit them. "I'm not in a very good humor to-day," he rather +growls than speaks, "but you can come in--I'm of a good family--and I'll +call Glentworthy. I'm old--I can't get about much. We'll all get old." +The building seems in a very bad temper generally. + +Mr. Glentworthy is called. Mr. Glentworthy, with a profane expletive, +pops his head out at the top of the stairs, and inquires who wants him. +The visitors have advanced into a little, narrow passage, lumbered with +all sorts of rubbish, and swarming with flies. Mr. Saddlerock (for this +is the old man's name) seems in a declining mood, the building seems in +a declining mood, Mr. Glentworthy seems in a declining mood--everything +you look at seems in a declining mood. "As if I hadn't enough to do, +gettin' off this dead cribber!" interpolates Mr. Glentworthy, +withdrawing his wicked face, and taking himself back into a room on the +left. + +"He's not so bad a man, only it doesn't come out at first," pursues Mr. +Saddlerock, continuing to rub his head, and to fuss round on his toes. +His mind, Madame Montford verily believes stuck in a fog. "We must wait +a bit," says the old man, his face seeming to elongate. "You can look +about--there's not much to be seen, and what there is--well, it's not +the finest." Mr. Saddlerock shuffles his feet, and then shuffles himself +into a small side room. Through the building there breathes a warm, +sickly atmosphere; the effect has left its marks upon the sad, waning +countenances of its unfortunate inmates. + +Tom and Madame Montford set out to explore the establishment. They +enter room after room, find them small, dark, and filthy beyond +description. Some are crowded with half-naked, flabby females, whose +careworn faces, and well-starved aspect, tells a sorrowful tale of the +chivalry. An abundant supply of profane works, in yellow and red covers, +would indeed seem to have been substituted for food, which, to the shame +of our commissioners, be it said, is a scarce article here. Cooped up in +another little room, after the fashion of wild beasts in a cage, are +seven poor idiots, whose forlorn condition, sad, dull countenances, as +they sit round a table, staring vacantly at one another, like mummies in +contemplation, form a wild but singularly touching picture. Each +countenance pales before the seeming study of its opponent, until, +enraptured and amazed, they break out into a wild, hysterical laugh. And +thus, poisoned, starved, and left to die, does time with these poor +mortals fleet on. + +The visitors ascend to the second story. A shuffling of feet in a room +at the top of the stairs excites their curiosity. Mr. Glentworthy's +voice grates harshly on the ear, in language we cannot insert in this +history. "Our high families never look into low places--chance if the +commissioner has looked in here for years," says Tom, observing Madame +Montford protect her inhaling organs with her perfumed cambric. "There +is a principle of economy carried out--and a very nice principle, too, +in getting these poor out of the world as quick as possible." Tom pushes +open a door, and, heavens! what a sight is here. He stands aghast in the +doorway--Madam, on tip-toe, peers anxiously in over his shoulders. Mr. +Glentworthy and two negroes--the former slightly inebriated, the latter +trembling of fright--are preparing to box up a lifeless mass, lying +carelessly upon the floor. The distorted features, the profusion of +long, red hair, curling over a scared face, and the stalworth figure, +shed some light upon the identity of the deceased. "Who is it?" +ejaculates Mr. Glentworthy, in response to an inquiry from Tom. Mr. +Glentworthy shrugs his shoulders, and commences whistling a tune. "That +cove!" he resumes, having stopped short in his tune, "a man what don't +know that cove, never had much to do with politics. Stuffed more ballot +boxes, cribbed more voters, and knocked down more slip-shod +citizens--that cove has, than, put 'em all together, would make a South +Carolina regiment. A mighty man among politicians, he was! Now the devil +has cribbed him--he'll know how good it is!" Mr. Glentworthy says this +with an air of superlative satisfaction, resuming his tune. The dead man +is Milman Mingle, the vote-cribber, who died of a wound he received at +the hands of an antagonist, whom he was endeavoring to "block out" while +going to the polls to cast his vote. "Big politician, but had no home!" +says Madame, with a sigh. + +Mr. Glentworthy soon had what remained of the vote-cribber--the man to +whom so many were indebted for their high offices--into a deal box, and +the deal box into the old hearse, and the old hearse, driven by a +mischievous negro, hastening to that great crib to which we must all go. +"Visitors," Mr. Glentworthy smiles, "must not question the way we do +business here, I get no pay, and there's only old Saddlerock and me to +do all the work. Old Saddlerock, you see, is a bit of a miser, and +having a large family of small Saddlerocks to provide for, scrapes what +he can into his own pocket. No one is the wiser. They can't be--they +never come in." Mr. Glentworthy, in reply to a question from Madame +Montford, says Mag Munday (he has some faint recollection of her) was +twice in the house, which he dignifies with the title of "Institution." +She never was in the "mad cells"--to his recollection. "Them what get +there, mostly die there." A gift of two dollars secures Mr. +Glentworthy's services, and restores him to perfect good nature. "You +will remember," says Tom, "that this woman ran neglected about the +streets, was much abused, and ended in becoming a maniac." Mr. +Glentworthy remembers very well, but adds: "We have so many maniacs on +our hands, that we can't distinctly remember them all. The clergymen +take good care never to look in here. They couldn't do any good if they +did, for nobody cares for the rubbish sent here; and if you tried to +Christianize them, you would only get laughed at. I don't like to be +laughed at. Munday's not here now, that's settled--but I'll--for +curiosity's sake--show you into the 'mad cells.'" Mr. Glentworthy leads +the way, down the rickety old stairs, through the lumbered passage, into +an open square, and from thence into a small out-building, at the +extreme end of which some dozen wet, slippery steps, led into a dark +subterranean passage, on each side of which are small, dungeon-like +cells. "Heavens!" exclaims Madame Montford, picking her way down the +steep, slippery steps. "How chilling! how tomb-like! Can it be that +mortals are confined here, and live?" she mutters, incoherently. The +stifling atmosphere is redolent of disease. + +"It straightens 'em down, sublimely--to put 'em in here," says Mr. +Glentworthy, laconically, lighting his lamp. "I hope to get old +Saddlerock in here. Give him such a mellowing!" He turns his light, and +the shadows play, spectre-like, along a low, wet aisle, hung on each +side with rusty bolts and locks, revealing the doors of cells. An +ominous stillness is broken by the dull clank of chains, the muttering +of voices, the shuffling of limbs; then a low wail breaks upon the ear, +and rises higher and higher, shriller and shriller, until in piercing +shrieks it chills the very heart. Now it ceases, and the echoes, like +the murmuring winds, die faintly away. "Look in here, now," says Mr. +Glentworthy--"a likely wench--once she was!" + +He swings open a door, and there issues from a cell about four feet six +inches wide, and nine long, the hideous countenance of a poor, mulatto +girl, whose shrunken body, skeleton-like arms, distended and glassy +eyes, tell but too forcibly her tale of sorrow. How vivid the picture of +wild idiocy is pictured in her sad, sorrowing face. No painter's touch +could have added a line more perfect. Now she rushes forward, with a +suddenness that makes Madame Montford shrink back, appalled--now she +fixes her eyes, hangs down her head, and gives vent to her tears. "My +soul is white--yes, yes, yes! I know it is white; God tells me it is +white--he knows--he never tortures. He doesn't keep me here to die--no, +I can't die here in the dark. I won't get to heaven if I do. Oh! yes, +yes, yes, I have a white soul, but my skin is not," she rather murmurs +than speaks, continuing to hold down her head, while parting her long, +clustering hair over her shoulders. Notwithstanding the spectacle of +horror presented in this living skeleton, there is something in her look +and action which bespeaks more the abuse of long confinement than the +result of natural aberration of mind. "She gets fierce now and then, +and yells," says the unmoved Glentworthy, "but she won't hurt ye--" + +[6]"How long," inquires Madame Montford, who has been questioning within +herself whether any act of her life could have brought a Human being +into such a place, "has she been confined here?" Mr. Glentworthy says +she tells her own tale. + +[Footnote 6: Can it be possible that such things as are here pictured +have an existence among a people laying any claim to a state of +civilization? the reader may ask. The author would here say that to the +end of fortifying himself against the charge of exaggeration, he +submitted the MS. of this chapter to a gentleman of the highest +respectability in Charleston, whose unqualified approval it received, as +well as enlisting his sympathies in behalf of the unfortunate lunatics +found in the cells described. Four years have passed since that time. He +subsequently sent the author the following, from the "Charleston +Courier," which speaks for itself. + + "FROM THE REPORTS OF COUNCIL. + "January 4th, 1843 + +"_The following communication was received from William M. Lawton, Esq., +Chairman of the Commissioners of the Poor-house._ + + "'Charleston, Dec. 17th, 1852. + "'To the Honorable, the City Council of Charleston: + +"'By a resolution of the Board of Commissioners of this City, I have +been instructed to communicate with your honorable body in relation to +the insane paupers now in Poor-house', (the insane in a poor-house!) +'and to request that you will adopt the necessary provision for sending +them to the Lunatic Asylum at Columbia. * * * * There are twelve on the +list, many of whom, it is feared, have already remained too long in an +institution quite unsuited to their unfortunate situation. + + "'With great respect, your very obedient servant, + "'(Signed) WM. M. LAWTON, + "'Chairman of the Board of Commissioners.'"] + +"Five years,--five years,--five long, long years, I have waited for him +in the dark, but he won't come," she lisps in a faltering voice, as her +emotions overwhelm her. Then crouching back upon the floor, she supports +her head pensively in her left hand, her elbow resting on her knee, and +her right hand poised against the brick wall, "Pencele!" says Mr. +Glentworthy, for such is the wretched woman's name, "cannot you sing a +song for your friends?" Turning aside to Madame Montford, he adds, "she +sings nicely. We shall soon get her out of the way--can't last much +longer." Mr. Glentworthy, drawing a small bottle from his pocket, places +it to his lips, saying he stole it from old Saddlerock, and gulps down a +portion of the contents. His breath is already redolent of whiskey. "Oh, +yes, yes, yes! I can sing for them, I can smother them with kisses. Good +faces seldom look in here, seldom look in here," she rises to her feet, +and extends her bony hand, as the tears steal down Madame Montford's +cheeks. Tom stands speechless. He wishes he had power to redress the +wrongs of this suffering maniac--his very soul fires up against the +coldness and apathy of a people who permit such outrages against +humanity. "There!--he comes! he comes! he comes!" the maniac speaks, +with faltering voice, then strikes up a plaintive air, which she sings +with a voice of much sweetness, to these words: + + When you find him, speed him to me, + And this heart will cease its bleeding, &c. + +The history of all this poor maniac's sufferings is told in a few simple +words that fall incautiously from Mr. Glentworthy's lips: "Poor fool, +she had only been married a couple of weeks, when they sold her husband +down South. She thinks if she keeps mad, he'll come back." + +There was something touching, something melancholy in the music of her +song, as its strains verberated and reverberated through the dread +vault, then, like the echo of a lover's lute on some Alpine hill, died +softly away. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII. + +IN WHICH THERE IS A SINGULAR REVELATION. + + +Madame Montford returns, unsuccessful, to her parlor. It is conscience +that unlocks the guilty heart, that forces mortals to seek relief where +there is no chance of finding it. It was this irresistible emotion that +found her counseling Tom Swiggs, making of him a confidant in her search +for the woman she felt could remove the doubt, in respect to Anna's +identity, that hung so painfully in her mind. And yet, such was her +position, hesitating as it were between her ambition to move in +fashionable society, and her anxiety to atone for a past error, that she +dare not disclose the secret of all her troubles even to him. She sought +him, not that he could soften her anxiety, but that being an humble +person, she could pursue her object through him, unobserved to +society--in a word, that he would be a protection against the +apprehensions of scandal-mongers. Such are the shifts to which the +ambitious guilty have recourse. What she has beheld in the poor-house, +too, only serves to quicken her thoughts of the misery she may have +inflicted upon others, and to stimulate her resolution to persevere in +her search for the woman. Conscious that wealth and luxury does not +always bring happiness, and that without a spotless character, woman is +but a feeble creature in this world, she would now sacrifice everything +else for that one ennobling charm. + +It may be proper here to add, that although Tom Swiggs could not enter +into the repentant woman's designs, having arranged with his employer to +sail for London in a few days, she learned of him something that +reflected a little more light in her path. And that was, that the woman +Anna Bonard, repined of her act in leaving George Mullholland, to whom +she was anxious to return--that she was now held against her will; that +she detested Judge Sleepyhorn, although he had provided lavishly for her +comfort. Anna knew George loved her, and that love, even to an abandoned +woman (if she could know it sincere), was dearer to her than all else. +She learned, too, that high up on Anna's right arm, there was imprinted +in blue and red ink, two hearts and a broken anchor. And this tended +further to increase her anxiety. And while evolving all these things in +her mind, and contemplating the next best course to pursue, her parlor +is invaded by Mr. Snivel. He is no longer Mr. Soloman, nor Mr. Snivel. +He is the Hon. Mr. Snivel. It is curious to contemplate the character of +the men to whose name we attach this mark of distinction. "I know you +will pardon my seeming neglect, Madame," he says, grasping her hand +warmly, as a smile of exultation lights up his countenance. "The fact +is, we public men are so absorbed in the affairs of the nation, that we +have scarce a thought to give to affairs of a private nature. We have +elected our ticket. I was determined it should be so, if Jericho fell. +And, more than all, I am made an honorable, by the popular sentiment of +the people--" + +"To be popular with the people, is truly an honor," interrupts the lady, +facetiously. + +"Thank you--O, thank you, for the compliment," pursues our hero. "Now, +as to this unfortunate person you seek, knowing it was of little use to +search for her in our institutions of charity--one never can find out +anything about the wretches who get into them--I put the matter into the +hands of one of our day-police--a plaguey sharp fellow--and he set about +scenting her out. I gave him a large sum, and promised him more if +successful. Here, then, after a long and tedious search--I have no doubt +the fellow earned his money--is what he got from New York, this +morning." The Hon. Mr. Snivel, fixing his eye steadily upon her, hands +her a letter which reads thus: + +"NEW YORK, _Dec. 14th, 18--_. + +"Last night, while making search after a habitant of the Points, a odd +old chip what has wandered about here for some years, some think he has +bin a better sort of man once, I struck across the woman you want. She +is somewhere tucked away in a Cow Bay garret, and is awful crazy; I'll +keep me eye out till somethin' further. If her friends wants to give her +a lift out of this place, they'd better come and see me at once. + + "Yours, as ever, + "M---- FITZGERALD." + +Mr. Snivel ogles Madame Montford over the page of a book he affects to +read. "Guilt! deep and strong," he says within himself, as Madame, with +flushed countenance and trembling hand, ponders and ponders over the +paper. Then her emotions quicken, her eyes exchange glances with Mr. +Snivel, and she whispers, with a sigh, "found--at last! And yet how +foolish of me to give way to my feelings? The affair, at best, is none +of mine." Mr. Snivel bows, and curls his Saxon mustache. "To do good +for others is the natural quality of a generous nature." + +Madame, somewhat relieved by this condescension of the Hon. gentleman, +says, in reply, "I am curious at solving family affairs." + +"And I!" says our hero, with refreshing coolness--"always ready to do a +bit of a good turn." + +Madame pauses, as if in doubt whether to proceed or qualify what she has +already said. "A relative, whose happiness I make my own," she resumes, +and again pauses, while the words tremble upon her lips. She hears the +words knelling in her ears: "A guilty conscience needs no betrayer." + +"You have," pursues our hero, "a certain clue; and of that I may +congratulate you." + +Madame says she will prepare at once to return to her home in New York, +and--and here again the words hang upon her lips. She was going to say, +her future proceedings would be governed by the paper she holds so +nervously in her finger. + +Snivel here receives a nostrum from the lady's purse. "Truly!--Madame," +he says, in taking leave of her, "the St. Cecilia will regret you--we +shall all regret you; you honored and graced our assemblies so. Our +first families will part with you reluctantly. It may, however, be some +satisfaction to know how many kind things will be said of you in your +absence." Mr. Snivel makes his last bow, a sarcastic smile playing over +his face, and pauses into the street. + +On the following day she encloses a present of fifty dollars to Tom +Swiggs, enjoins the necessity of his keeping her visit to the +poor-house a secret, and takes leave of Charleston. + +And here our scene changes, and we must transport the reader to New +York. It is the day following the night Mr. Detective Fitzgerald +discovered what remained of poor Toddleworth, in the garret of the House +of the Nine Nations. The City Hall clock strikes twelve. The goodly are +gathered into the House of the Foreign Missions, in which peace and +respectability would seem to preside. The good-natured fat man is in his +seat, pondering over letters lately received from the "dark regions" of +Arabia; the somewhat lean, but very respectable-looking Secretary, is +got nicely into his spectacles, and sits pondering over lusty folios of +reports from Hindostan, and various other fields of missionary labor, +all setting forth the various large amounts of money expended, how much +more could be expended, and what a blessing it is to be enabled to +announce the fact that there is now a hope of something being done. The +same anxious-faced bevy of females we described in a previous chapter, +are here, seated at a table, deeply interested in certain periodicals +and papers; while here and there about the room, are several +contemplative gentlemen in black. Brother Spyke, having deeply +interested Brothers Phills and Prim with an account of his visit to the +Bottomless Pit, paces up and down the room, thinking of Antioch, and the +evangelization of the heathen world. "Truly, brother," speaks the +good-natured fat man, "his coming seemeth long." "Eleven was the hour; +but why he tarryeth I know not," returns Brother Spyke, with calm +demeanor. "There is something more alarming in Sister Slocum's absence," +interposes one of the ladies. The house seems in a waiting mood, when +suddenly Mr. Detective Fitzgerald enters, and changes it to one of +anxiety. Several voices inquire if he was successful. He shakes his +head, and having recounted his adventures, the discovery of where the +money went to, and the utter hopelessness of an effort to recover it; +"as for the man, Toddleworth," he says, methodically, "he was found with +a broken skull. The Coroner has had an inquest over him; but murders are +so common. The verdict was, that he died of a broken skull, by the hands +of some one to the jury unknown. Suspicions were strong against one Tom +Downey, who is very like a heathen, and is mistrusted of several +murders. The affair disturbed the neighborhood a little, and the Coroner +tried to get something out concerning the man's history; but it all went +to the wind, for the people were all so ignorant. They all knew +everything about him, which turned out to be just nothing, which they +were ready to swear to. One believed Father Flaherty made the Bible, +another believed the Devil still chained in Columbia College--a third +believed the stars were lanterns to guide priests--the only angels they +know--on their way to heaven." + +"Truly!" exclaims the man of the spectacles, in a moment of abstraction. + +Brother Spyke says: "the Lord be merciful." + +"On the body of the poor man we found this document. It was rolled +carefully up in a rag, and is supposed to throw some light on his +history." Mr. Fitzgerald draws leisurely from his pocket a distained and +much-crumpled paper, written over in a bold, business-like hand, and +passes it to the man in the spectacle, as a dozen or more anxious faces +gather round, eager to explore the contents. + +"He went out of the Points as mysteriously as he came in. We buried him +a bit ago, and have got Downey in the Tombs: he'll be hanged, no doubt," +concludes the detective, laying aside his cap, and setting himself, +uninvited, into a chair. The man in the spectacles commences reading the +paper, which runs as follows: + +"I have been to you an unknown, and had died such an unknown, but that +my conscience tells me I have a duty to perform. I have wronged no one, +owe no one a penny, harbor no malice against any one; I am a victim of a +broken heart, and my own melancholy. Many years ago I pursued an +honorable business in this city, and was respected and esteemed. Many +knew me, and fortune seemed to shed upon me her smiles. I married a lady +of wealth and affluence, one I loved and doted on. Our affections seemed +formed for our bond; we lived for one another; our happiness seemed +complete. But alas! an evil hour came. Ambitious of admiration, she +gradually became a slave to fashionable society, and then gave herself +up to those flatterers who hang about it, and whose chief occupation it +is to make weak-minded women vain of their own charms. Coldness, and +indifference to home, soon followed. My house was invaded, my home--that +home I regarded so sacredly--became the resort of men in whose society I +found no pleasure, with whom I had no feeling in common. I could not +remonstrate, for that would have betrayed in me a want of confidence in +the fidelity of one I loved too blindly. I was not one of those who make +life miserable in seeing a little and suspecting much. No! I forgave +many things that wounded my feelings; and my love for her would not +permit a thought to invade the sanctity of her fidelity. Business +called me into a foreign country, where I remained several months, then +returned--not, alas! to a home made happy by the purity of one I +esteemed an angel;--not to the arms of a pure, fond wife, but to find my +confidence betrayed, my home invaded--she, in whom I had treasured up my +love, polluted; and slander, like a desert wind, pouring its desolating +breath into my very heart. In my blindness I would have forgiven her, +taken her back to my distracted bosom, and fled with her to some distant +land, there still to have lived and loved her. But she sought rather to +conceal her guilt than ask forgiveness. My reason fled me, my passion +rose above my judgment, I sank under the burden of my sorrow, attempted +to put an end to her life, and to my own misery. Failing in this, for my +hand was stayed by a voice I heard calling to me, I fled the country and +sought relief for my feelings in the wilds of Chili. I left nearly all +to my wife, took but little with me, for my object was to bury myself +from the world that had known me, and respected me. Destitution followed +me; whither I went there seemed no rest, no peace of mind for me. The +past floated uppermost in my mind. I was ever recurring to home, to +those with whom I had associated, to an hundred things that had endeared +me to my own country. Years passed--years of suffering and sorrow, and I +found myself a lone wanderer, without friend or money. During this time +it was reported at home, as well as chronicled in the newspapers, that I +was dead. The inventor of this report had ends, I will not name them +here, to serve. I was indeed dead to all who had known me happy in this +world. Disguised, a mere shadow of what I was once, I wandered back to +New York, heart-sick and discouraged, and buried myself among those +whose destitution, worse, perhaps, than my own, afforded me a means of +consolation. My life has long been a burden to me; I have many times +prayed God, in his mercy, to take me away, to close the account of my +misery. Do you ask my name? Ah! that is what pains me most. To live +unknown, a wretched outcast, in a city where I once enjoyed a name that +was respected, is what has haunted my thoughts, and tortured my +feelings. But I cannot withhold it, even though it has gone down, +tainted and dishonored. It is Henry Montford. And with this short record +I close my history, leaving the rest for those to search out who find +this paper, at my death, which cannot be long hence. + + "HENRY MONTFORD. + "_New York, Nov. --, 184-._" + +A few sighs follow the reading of the paper, but no very deep interest, +no very tender emotion, is awakened in the hearts of the goodly. +Nevertheless, it throws a flood of light upon the morals of a class of +society vulgarly termed fashionable. The meek females hold their tears +and shake their heads. Brother Spyke elongates his lean figure, draws +near, and says the whole thing is very unsatisfactory. Not one word is +let drop about the lost money. + +Brother Phills will say this--that the romance is very cleverly got up, +as the theatre people say. + +The good-natured fat man, breathing somewhat freer, says: "Truly! these +people have a pleasant way of passing out of the world. They die of +their artful practices--seeking to devour the good and the generous." + +"There's more suffers than imposes--an' there's more than's written +meant in that same bit of paper. Toddleworth was as inoffensive a +creature as you'd meet in a day. May God forgive him all his faults;" +interposes Mr. Detective Fitzgerald, gathering up his cap and passing +slowly out of the room. + +And this colloquy is put an end to by the sudden appearance of Sister +Slocum. A rustling silk dress, of quiet color, and set off with three +modest flounces; an India shawl, loosely thrown over her shoulders; a +dainty little collar, of honiton, drawn neatly about her neck, and a +bonnet of buff-colored silk, tastefully set off with tart-pie work +without, and lined with virtuous white satin within, so saucily poised +on her head, suggests the idea that she has an eye to fashion as well as +the heathen world. Her face, too, always so broad, bright, and +benevolent in its changes--is chastely framed in a crape border, so +nicely crimped, so nicely tucked under her benevolent chin at one end, +and so nicely pinned under the virtuous white lining at the other. +Goodness itself radiates from those large; earnest blue eyes, those +soft, white cheeks, that large forehead, with those dashes of silvery +hair crossing it so smoothly and so exactly--that well-developed, but +rather broad nose, and that mouth so expressive of gentleness. + +Sister Slocum, it requires no very acute observer to discover, has got +something more than the heathen world at heart, for all those soft, +congenial features are shadowed with sadness. Silently she takes her +seat, sits abstracted for a few minutes--the house is thrown into a +wondering mood--then looks wisely through her spectacles, and having +folded her hands with an air of great resignation, shakes, and shakes, +and shakes her head. Her eyes suddenly fill with tears, her thoughts +wander, or seem to wander, she attempts to speak, her voice chokes, and +the words hang upon her lips. All is consternation and excitement. +Anxious faces gather round, and whispering voices inquire the cause. The +lean man in the spectacles having applied his hartshorn bottle, Sister +Slocum, to the great joy of all present, is so far restored as to be +able to announce the singular, but no less melancholy fact, that our +dear guest, Sister Swiggs, has passed from this world to a better. She +retired full of sorrow, but came not in the morning. And this so +troubled Sister Scudder that there was no peace until she entered her +room. But she found the angel had been there before her, smoothed the +pillow of the stranger, and left her to sleep in death. On earth her +work was well done, and in the arms of the angel, her pure spirit now +beareth witness in heaven. Sister Slocum's emotions forbid her saying +more. She concludes, and buries her face in her cambric. Then an +outpouring of consoling words follow. "He cometh like a thief in the +night: His works are full of mystery; truly, He chasteneth; He giveth +and taketh away." Such are a few of the sentiments lisped, regrettingly, +for the departed. + +How vain are the hopes with which we build castles in the air; how +strange the motives that impel us to ill-advised acts. We leave +untouched the things that call loudest for our energies, and treasure up +our little that we may serve that which least concerns us. In this +instance it is seen how that which came of evil went in evil; how +disappointment stepped in and blew the castle down at a breath. + +There could not be a doubt that the disease of which Sister Smiggs +died, and which it is feared the State to which she belongs will one day +die, was little dignity. Leaving her then in the arms of the House of +the Foreign Mission, and her burial to the Secretary of the very +excellent "Tract Society" she struggled so faithfully to serve, we close +this chapter of events, the reader having, no doubt, discovered the +husband of Madame Montford in the wretched man, Mr. Toddleworth. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV. + +THE TWO PICTURES. + + +We come now to another stage of this history. Six months have glided +into the past since the events recorded in the foregoing chapter. The +political world of Charleston is resolved to remain in the Union a few +months longer. It is a pleasant evening in early May. The western sky is +golden with the setting sun, and the heavens are filled with battlements +of refulgent clouds, now softening away into night. Yonder to the East, +reposes a dark grove. A gentle breeze fans through its foliage, the +leaves laugh and whisper, the perfumes of flowers are diffusing through +the air birds make melodious with their songs, the trilling stream +mingles its murmurs, and nature would seem gathering her beauties into +one enchanting harmony. In the foreground of the grove, and looking as +if it borrowed solitude of the deep foliage, in which it is half buried, +rises a pretty villa, wherein may be seen, surrounded by luxuries the +common herd might well envy, the fair, the beautiful siren, Anna Bonard. +In the dingy little back parlor of the old antiquary, grim poverty +looking in through every crevasse, sits the artless and pure-minded +Maria McArthur. How different are the thoughts, the hopes, the emotions +of these two women. Comfort would seem smiling on the one, while +destitution threatens the other. To the eye that looks only upon the +surface, how deceptive is the picture. The one with every wish +gratified, an expression of sorrow shadowing her countenance, and that +freshness and sweetness for which she was distinguished passing away, +contemplates herself a submissive captive, at the mercy of one for whom +she has no love, whose gold she cannot inherit, and whose roof she must +some day leave for the street. The other feels poverty grasping at her, +but is proud in the possession of her virtue; and though trouble would +seem tracing its lines upon her features, her heart remains untouched by +remorse;--she is strong in the consciousness that when all else is gone, +her virtue will remain her beacon light to happiness. Anna, in the loss +of that virtue, sees herself shut out from that very world that points +her to the yawning chasm of her future; she feels how like a slave in +the hands of one whose heart is as cold as his smiles are false, she is. +Maria owes the world no hate, nor are her thoughts disturbed by such +contemplations. Anna, with embittered and remorseful feelings--with dark +and terrible passions agitating her bosom, looks back over her eventful +life, to a period when even her own history is shut to her, only to find +the tortures of her soul heightened. Maria looks back upon a life of +fond attachment to her father, to her humble efforts to serve others, +and to know that she has borne with Christian fortitude those ills which +are incident to humble life. With her, an emotion of joy repays the +contemplation. To Anna, the future is hung in dark forebodings. She +recalls to mind the interview with Madame Montford, but that only tends +to deepen the storm of anguish the contemplation of her parentage +naturally gives rise to. With Maria, the present hangs dark and the +future brightens. She thinks of the absent one she loves--of how she can +best serve her aged father, and how she can make their little home +cheerful until the return of Tom Swiggs, who is gone abroad. It must be +here disclosed that the old man had joined their hands, and invoked a +blessing on their heads, ere Tom took his departure. Maria looks forward +to the day of his return with joyous emotions. That return is the day +dream of her heart; in it she sees her future brightening. Such are the +cherished thoughts of a pure mind. Poverty may gnaw away at the +hearthstone, cares and sorrow may fall thick in your path, the rich may +frown upon you, and the vicious sport with your misfortunes, but virtue +gives you power to overcome them all. In Maria's ear something whispers: +Woman! hold fast to thy virtue, for if once it go neither gold nor false +tongues can buy it back. + +Anna sees the companion of her early life, and the sharer of her +sufferings, shut up in a prison, a robber, doomed to the lash. "He was +sincere to me, and my only true friend--am I the cause of this?" she +muses. Her heart answers, and her bosom fills with dark and stormy +emotions. One small boon is now all she asks. She could bow down and +worship before the throne of virgin innocence, for now its worth towers, +majestic, before her. It discovers to her the falsity of her day-dream; +it tells her what an empty vessel is this life of ours without it. She +knows George Mullholland loves her passionately; she knows how deep will +be his grief, how revengeful his feelings. It is poverty that fastens +the poison in the heart of the rejected lover. The thought of this +flashes through her mind. His hopeless condition, crushed out as it were +to gratify him in whose company her pleasures are but transitory, and +may any day end, darkens as she contemplates it. How can she acquit her +conscience of having deliberately and faithlessly renounced one who was +so true to her? She repines, her womanly nature revolts at the +thought--the destiny her superstition pictured so dark and terrible, +stares her in the face. She resolves a plan for his release, and, +relieved with a hope that she can accomplish it while propitiating the +friendship of the Judge, the next day seeks him in his prison cell, and +with all that vehemence woman, in the outpouring of her generous +impulses, can call to her aid, implores his forgiveness. But the rust of +disappointment has dried up his better nature; his heart is wrung with +the shafts of ingratitude--all the fierce passions of his nature, hate, +scorn and revenge, rise up in the one stormy outburst of his soul. He +casts upon her a look of withering scorn, the past of that life so +chequered flashes vividly through his thoughts, his hate deepens, he +hurls her from him, invokes a curse upon her head, and shuts her from +his sight. "Mine will be the retribution!" he says, knitting his dark +brow. + +How is it with the Judge--that high functionary who provides thus +sumptuously for his mistress? His morals, like his judgments, are +excused, in the cheap quality of our social morality. + +Such is gilded vice; such is humble virtue. + +A few days more and the term of the Sessions commences. George is +arraigned, and the honorable Mr. Snivel, who laid the plot, and +furthered the crime, now appears as a principal witness. He procures the +man's conviction, and listens with guilty heart to the sentence, for he +is rearraigned on sentence day, and Mr. Snivel is present. And while +the culprit is sentenced to two years imprisonment, and to receive +eighty lashes, laid on his bare back, while at the public whipping-post, +at four stated times, the man who stimulated the hand of the criminal, +is honored and flattered by society. Such is the majesty of the law. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV. + +IN WHICH A LITTLE LIGHT IS SHED UPON THE CHARACTER OF OUR CHIVALRY. + + +Mr. McArthur has jogged on, in the good old way but his worldly store +seems not to increase. The time, nevertheless, is arrived when he is +expected to return the little amount borrowed of Keepum, through the +agency of Mr. Snivel. Again and again has he been notified that he must +pay or go to that place in which we lock up all our very estimable +"first families," whose money has taken wings and flown away. Not +content with this, the two worthy gentlemen have more than once invaded +the Antiquary's back parlor, and offered, as we have described in a +former chapter, improper advances to his daughter. + +Mr. Keepum, dressed in a flashy coat, his sharp, mercenary face, hectic +of night revels, and his small but wicked eyes wandering over Mr. +McArthur's stock in trade, is seen in pursuit of his darling object. "I +don't mind so much about the pay, old man! I'm up well in the world. The +fact is, I am esteemed--and I am!--a public benefactor. I never forget +how much we owe to the chivalric spirit of our ancestors, and in dealing +with the poor--money matters and politics are different from anything +else--I am too generous. I don't mind my own interests enough. There it +is!" Mr. Keepum says this with an evident relief to himself. Indeed it +must here be acknowledged that this very excellent member of the St. +Cecilia Society, and profound dealer in lottery tickets, like our fine +gentlemen who are so scrupulous of their chivalry while stabbing men +behind their backs, fancies himself one of the most disinterested beings +known to generous nature. + +Bent and tottering, the old man recounts the value of his curiosities; +which, like our chivalry, is much talked of but hard to get at. He +offers in apology for the nonpayment of the debt his knowledge of the +old continentals, just as we offer our chivalry in excuse for every +disgraceful act--every savage law. In fine, he follows the maxims of our +politicians, recapitulating a dozen or more things (wiping the sweat +from his brow the while) that have no earthly connection with the +subject. "They are all very well," Mr. Keepum rejoins, with an air of +self-importance, dusting the ashes from his cigar. He only wishes to +impress the old man with the fact that he is his very best friend. + +And having somewhat relieved the Antiquary's mind of its apprehensions, +for McArthur stood in great fear of duns, Mr. Keepum pops, uninvited, +into the "back parlor," where he has not long been when Maria's screams +for assistance break forth. + +"Ah! I am old--there is not much left me now. Yes, I am old, my +infirmities are upon me. Pray, good man, spare me my daughter. Nay, you +must not break the peace of my house;" mutters the old man, advancing +into the room, with infirm step, and looking wistfully at his daughter, +as if eager to clasp her in his arms. Maria stands in a defiant +attitude, her left hand poised on a chair, and her right pointing +scornfully in the face of Keepum, who recoils under the look of +withering scorn that darkens her countenance. "A gentleman! begone, +knave! for your looks betray you. You cannot buy my ruin with your gold; +you cannot deceive me with your false tongue. If hate were a noble +passion, I would not vent that which now agitates my bosom on you. Nay, +I would reserve it for a better purpose--" + +"Indeed, indeed--now I say honestly, your daughter mistakes me. I was +only being a little friendly to her," interrupts the chopfallen man. He +did not think her capable of summoning so much passion to her aid. + +Maria, it must be said, was one of those seemingly calm natures in which +resentment takes deepest root, in which the passions are most violent +when roused. Solitude does, indeed, tend to invest the passionate nature +with a calm surface. A less penetrating observer than the chivalrous +Keepum, might have discovered in Maria a spirit he could not so easily +humble to his uses. It is the modest, thoughtful woman, you cannot make +lick the dust in sorrow and tears. "Coward! you laid ruffian hands on +me!" says Maria, again towering to her height, and giving vent to her +feelings. + +"Madam, Madam," pursues Keepum, trembling and crouching, "you asperse my +honor,--my sacred honor, Madam. You see--let me say a word, now--you are +letting your temper get the better of you. I never, and the public know +I never did--I never did a dishonorable thing in my life." Turning to +the bewildered old man, he continues: "to be called a knave, and +upbraided in this manner by your daughter, when I have befriended you +all these days!" His wicked eyes fall guilty to the floor. + +"Out man!--out! Let your sense of right, if you have it, teach you what +is friendship. Know that, like mercy, it is not poured out with hands +reeking of female dishonor." + +Mr. Keepum, like many more of our very fine gentlemen, had so trained +his thoughts to look upon the poor as slaves created for a base use, +that he neither could bring his mind to believe in the existence of such +things as noble spirits under humble roofs, nor to imagine himself--even +while committing the grossest outrages--doing aught to sully the high +chivalric spirit he fancied he possessed. The old Antiquary, on the +other hand, was not a little surprised to find his daughter displaying +such extraordinary means of repulsing an enemy. + +Trembling, and childlike he stands, conscious of being in the grasp of a +knave, whose object was more the ruin of his daughter than the recovery +of a small amount of money, the tears glistening in his eyes, and the +finger of old age marked on his furrowed brow. + +"Father, father!" says Maria, and the words hang upon her quivering +lips, her face becomes pale as marble, her strength deserts her,--she +trembles from head to foot, and sinks upon the old man's bosom, +struggling to smother her sobs. Her passion has left her; her calmer +nature has risen up to rebuke it. The old man leads her tenderly to the +sofa, and there seeks to sooth her troubled spirit. + +"As if this hub bub was always to last!" a voice speaks suddenly. It is +the Hon. Mr. Snivel, who looks in at the eleventh hour, as he says, to +find affairs always in a fuss. "Being a man of legal knowledge--always +ready to do a bit of a good turn--especially in putting a disordered +house to rights--I thought it well to look in, having a leisure minute +or two (we have had a convention for dissolving the Union, and passed a +vote to that end!) to give to my old friends," Mr. Snivel says, in a +voice at once conciliating and insinuating. "I always think of a border +feud when I come here--things that find no favor with me." Mr. Snivel, +having first patted the old man on the shoulder, exchanges a significant +wink with his friend Keepum, and then bestows upon him what he is +pleased to call a little wholesome advice. "People misunderstand Mr. +Keepum," he says, "who is one of the most generous of men, but lacks +discretion, and in trying to be polite to everybody, lets his feelings +have too much latitude now and then." Maria buries her face in her +handkerchief, as if indifferent to the reconciliation offered. + +"Now let this all be forgotten--let friendship reign among friends: +that's my motto. But! I say,--this is a bad piece of news we have this +morning. Clipped this from an English paper," resumes the Hon. +gentleman, drawing coolly from his pocket a bit of paper, having the +appearance of an extract. + +"You are never without some kind of news--mostly bad!" says Keepum, +flinging himself into a chair, with an air of restored confidence. Mr. +Snivel bows, thanks the gentleman for the compliment, and commences to +read. "This news," he adds, "may be relied upon, having come from +Lloyd's List: 'Intelligence was received here (this is, you must +remember, from a London paper, he says, in parentheses) this morning, of +the total loss of the American ship ----, bound from this port for +Charleston, U.S., near the Needles. Every soul on board, except the +Captain and second mate, perished. The gale was one of the worst ever +known on this coast--'" + +"The worst ever known on this coast!" ejaculates Mr. Keepum, his wicked +eyes steadily fixed upon Maria. "One of Trueman's ships," Mr. Snivel +adds. "Unlucky fellow, that Trueman--second ship he has lost." + +"By-the-bye," rejoins Keepum, as if a thought has just flashed upon him, +"your old friend, Tom Swiggs, was supercargo, clerk, or whatever you may +call it, aboard that ship, eh?" + +It is the knave who can most naturally affect surprise and regret when +it suits his purposes, and Mr. Snivel is well learned in the art. +"True!" he says, "as I'm a Christian. Well, I had made a man of him--I +don't regret it, for I always liked him--and this is the end of the poor +fellow, eh?" Turning to McArthur, he adds, rather unconcernedly: "You +know somewhat of him?" The old man sits motionless beside his daughter, +the changes of whose countenance discover the inward emotions that +agitate her bosom. Her eyes fill with tears; she exchanges inquiring +glances, first with Keepum, then with Snivel; then a thought strikes her +that she received a letter from Tom, setting forth his prospects, and +his intention to return in the ship above named. It was very natural +that news thus artfully manufactured, and revealed with such apparent +truthfulness, should produce a deep impression in the mind of an +unsuspecting girl. Indeed, it was with some effort that she bore up +under it. Expressions of grief she would fain suppress before the enemy +gain a mastery over her--and ere they are gone the cup flows over, and +she sinks exhausted upon the sofa. + +"There! good as far as it goes. You have now another mode of gaining the +victory," Mr. Snivel whispers in the ear of his friend, Keepum; and the +two gentlemen pass into the street. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI. + +IN WHICH A LAW IS SEEN TO SERVE BASE PURPOSES. + + +Maria has passed a night of unhappiness. Hopes and fears are knelling in +the morning, which brings nothing to relieve her anxiety for the absent +one; and Mr. Snivel has taken the precaution to have the news of the +lost ship find its way into the papers. + +And while our city seems in a state of very general excitement; while +great placards on every street corner inform the wondering stranger that +a mighty Convention (presided over by the Hon. S. Snivel) for dissolving +the Union, is shortly to be holden; while our political world has got +the Union on its shoulders, and threatens to throw it into the nearest +ditch; while our streets swarm with long, lean, and very hairy-faced +delegates (all lusty of war and secession), who have dragged themselves +into the city to drink no end of whiskey, and say all sorts of foolish +things their savage and half-civilized constituents are expected to +applaud; while our more material and conservative citizens are thinking +what asses we make of ourselves; while the ship-of-war we built to fight +the rest of the Union, lies an ugly lump in the harbor, and "won't go +over the bar;" while the "shoe-factory" we established to supply +niggerdom with soles, is snuffed out for want of energy and capacity to +manage it; while some of our non-slaveholding, but most active secession +merchants, are moving seriously in the great project of establishing a +"SOUTHERN CANDLE-FACTORY"--a thing much needed in the "up-country;" +while our graver statesmen (who don't get the State out of the Union +fast enough for the ignorant rabble, who have nothing but their folly at +stake) are pondering over the policy of spending five hundred thousand +dollars for the building of another war-ship--one that "will go over the +bar;" and while curiously-written letters from Generals Commander and +Quattlebum, offering to bring their allied forces into the field--to +blow this confederation down at a breath whenever called upon, are being +published, to the great joy of all secessiondom; while saltpetre, +broadswords, and the muskets made for us by Yankees to fight Yankees, +and which were found to have wood instead of flint in their hammers, +(and which trick of the Yankees we said was just like the Yankees,) are +in great demand--and a few of our mob-politicians, who are all "Kern'ls" +of regiments that never muster, prove conclusively our necessity for +keeping a fighting-man in Congress; while, we assert, many of our first +and best known families have sunk the assemblies of the St. Cecilia in +the more important question of what order of government will best +suit--in the event of our getting happily out of the Union!--our refined +and very exacting state of society;--whether an Empire or a Monarchy, +and whether we ought to set up a Quattlebum or Commander +dynasty?--whether the Bungle family or the Jungle family (both fighting +families) will have a place nearest the throne; what sort of orders will +be bestowed, who will get them, and what colored liveries will best +become us (all of which grave questions threaten us with a very +extensive war of families)?--while all these great matters find us in a +sea of trouble, there enters the curiosity-shop of the old Antiquary a +suspicious-looking individual in green spectacles. + +"Mr. Hardscrabble!" says the man, bowing and taking a seat, leisurely, +upon the decrepit sofa. Mr. McArthur returns his salutation, +contemplates him doubtingly for a minute, then resumes his fussing and +brushing. + +The small, lean figure; the somewhat seedy broadcloth in which it is +enveloped; the well-browned and very sharp features; the straight, +dark-gray hair, and the absent manner of Mr. Hardscrabble, might, with +the uninitiated, cause him to be mistaken for an "up-country" clergyman +of the Methodist denomination. + +"Mr. Hardscrabble? Mr. Hardscrabble? Mr. Hardscrabble?" muses the +Antiquary, canting his head wisely, "the Sheriff, as I'm a man of +years!" + +Mr. Hardscrabble comforts his eyes with his spectacles, and having +glanced vacantly over the little shop, as if to take an inventory of its +contents, draws from his breast-pocket a paper containing very ominous +seals and scrawls. + +"I'm reluctant about doing these things with an old man like you," Mr. +Hardscrabble condescends to say, in a sharp, grating voice; "but I have +to obey the demands of my office." Here he commences reading the paper +to the trembling old man, who, having adjusted his broad-bowed +spectacles, and arrayed them against the spectacles of Mr. Hardscrabble, +says he thinks it contains a great many useless recapitulations. + +Mr. Hardscrabble, his eyes peering eagerly through his glasses, and his +lower jaw falling and exposing the inner domain of his mouth, replies +with an--"Umph." The old Antiquary was never before called upon to +examine a document so confusing to his mind. Not content with a +surrender of his property, it demands his body into the bargain--all at +the suit of one Keepum. He makes several motions to go show it to his +daughter; but that, Mr. Hardscrabble thinks, is scarce worth while. "I +sympathize with you--knowing how frugal you have been through life. A +list of your effects--if you have one--will save a deal of trouble. I +fear (Mr. Hardscrabble works his quid) my costs will hardly come out of +them." + +"There's a fortune in them--if the love of things of yore--" The old man +hesitates, and shakes his head dolefully. + +"Yore!--a thing that would starve out our profession." + +"A little time to turn, you know. There's my stock of uniforms." + +"Well--I--know," Mr. Hardscrabble rejoins, with a drawl; "but I must +lock up the traps. Yes, I must lock you up, and sell you out--unless you +redeem before sale day; that you can't do, I suppose?" + +And while the old man totters into the little back parlor, and, giving +way to his emotions, throws himself upon the bosom of his fond daughter, +to whom he discloses his troubles, Mr. Hardscrabble puts locks and bolts +upon his curiosity-shop. This important business done, he leads the old +man away, and gives him a lodging in the old jail. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII. + +A SHORT CHAPTER OF ORDINARY EVENTS. + + +To bear up against the malice of inexorable enemies is at once the gift +and the shield of a noble nature. And here it will be enough to say, +that Maria bore the burden of her ills with fortitude and resignation, +trusting in Him who rights the wronged, to be her deliverer. What took +place when she saw her aged father led away, a prisoner; what thoughts +invaded that father's mind when the prison bolt grated on his ear, and +he found himself shut from all that had been dear to him through life, +regard for the feelings of the reader forbids us recounting here. + +Naturally intelligent, Maria had, by close application to books, +acquired some knowledge of the world. Nor was she entirely ignorant of +those arts designing men call to their aid when seeking to effect the +ruin of the unwary female. Thus fortified, she fancied she saw in the +story of the lost ship a plot against herself, while the persecution of +her father was only a means to effect the object. Launched between hope +and fear, then--hope that her lover still lived, and that with his +return her day would brighten--fear lest the report might be founded in +truth, she nerves herself for the struggle. She knew full well that to +give up in despair--to cast herself upon the cold charities of a busy +world, would only be to hasten her downfall. Indeed, she had already +felt how cold, and how far apart were the lines that separated our rich +from our poor. + +The little back parlor is yet spared to Maria, and in it she may now be +seen plying at her needle, early and late. It is the only means left her +of succoring the parent from whom she has been so ruthlessly separated. +Hoping, fearing, bright to-day and dark to-morrow, willing to work and +wait--here she sits. A few days pass, and the odds and ends of the +Antiquary's little shop, like the "shirts" of the gallant Fremont, whom +we oppressed while poor, and essayed to flatter when a hero, are +gazetted under the head of "sheriff's sale." Hope, alas! brings no +comfort to Maria. Time rolls on, the month's rent falls due, her father +pines and sinks in confinement, and her needle is found inadequate to +the task undertaken. Necessity demands, and one by one she parts with +her few cherished mementos of the past, that she may save an aged father +from starvation. + +The "prisoner" has given notice that he will take the benefit of the +act--commonly called "an act for the relief of poor debtors." But before +he can reach this boon, ten days must elapse. Generous-minded +legislators, no doubt, intended well when they constructed this act, but +so complex are its provisions that any legal gentleman may make it a +very convenient means of oppression. And in a community where laws not +only have their origin in the passions of men, but are made to serve +popular prejudices--where the quality of justice obtained depends upon +the position and sentiments of him who seeks it,--the weak have no +chance against the powerful. + +The multiplicity of notices, citations, and schedules, necessary to the +setting free of this "poor debtor" (for these fussy officials must be +paid), Maria finds making a heavy drain on her lean purse. + +The Court is in session, and the ten days having glided away, the old +man is brought into "open Court" by two officials with long tipstaffs, +and faces looking as if they had been carefully pickled in strong +drinks. "Surely, now, they'll set me free--I can give them no more--I am +old and infirm--they have got all--and my daughter!" he muses within +himself. Ah! he little knows how uncertain a thing is the law. + +The Judge is engaged over a case in which two very fine old families are +disputing for the blood and bones of a little "nigger" girl. The +possession of this helpless slave, the Judge (he sits in easy dignity) +very naturally regards of superior importance when compared with the +freedom of a "poor debtor." He cannot listen to the story of +destitution--precisely what was sought by Keepum--to-day, and to-morrow +the Court adjourns for six months. + +The Antiquary is remanded back to his cell. No one in Court cares for +him; no one has a thought for the achings of that heart his release +would unburden; the sorrows of that lone girl are known only to herself +and the One in whom she puts her trust. She, nevertheless, seeks the old +man in his prison, and there comforts him as best she can. + +Five days more, and the "prisoner" is brought before the Commissioner +for Special Bail, who is no less a personage than the rosy-faced Clerk +of the Court, just adjourned. And here we cannot forbear to say, that +however despicable the object sought, however barren of right the plea, +however adverse to common humanity the spirit of the action, there is +always to be found some legal gentleman, true to the lower instincts of +the profession, ready to lend himself to his client's motives. And in +this instance, the cunning Keepum finds an excellent instrument of +furthering his ends, in one Peter Crimpton, a somewhat faded and rather +disreputable member of the learned profession. It is said of Crimpton, +that he is clever at managing cases where oppression rather than justice +is sought, and that his present client furnishes the larger half of his +practice. + +And while Maria, too sensitive to face the gaze of the coarse crowd, +pauses without, silent and anxious, listening one moment and hoping the +next will see her old father restored to her, the adroit Crimpton rises +to object to "the Schedule." To the end that he may substantiate his +objections, he proposes to examine the prisoner. Having no alternative, +the Commissioner grants the request. + +The old Antiquary made out his schedule with the aid of the good-hearted +jailer, who inserted as his effects, "_Necessary wearing apparel_." It +was all he had. Like the gallant Fremont, when he offered to resign his +shirts to his chivalric creditor, he could give them no more. A few +questions are put; the old man answers them with childlike simplicity, +then sits down, his trembling fingers wandering into his beard. Mr. +Crimpton produces his paper, sets forth his objections, and asks +permission to file them, that the case may come before a jury of +"Special Bail." + +Permission is granted. The reader will not fail to discover the object +of this procedure. Keepum hopes to continue the old man in prison, that +he may succeed in breaking down the proud spirit of his daughter. + +The Commissioner listens attentively to the reading of the objections. +The first sets forth that Mr. McArthur has a gold watch;[7] the second, +that he has a valuable breastpin, said to have been worn by Lord +Cornwallis; and the third, that he has one Yorick's skull. All of these, +Mr. Crimpton regrets to say, are withheld from the schedule, which +virtually constitutes fraud. The facile Commissioner bows; the assembled +crowd look on unmoved; but the old man shakes his head and listens. He +is surprised to find himself accused of fraud; but the law gives him no +power to show his own innocence. The Judge of the Sessions was competent +to decide the question now raised, and to have prevented this reverting +to a "special jury"--this giving the vindictive plaintiff a means of +torturing his infirm victim. Had he but listened to the old man's tale +of poverty, he might have saved the heart of that forlorn girl many a +bitter pang. + +[Footnote 7: Our Charleston readers will recognize the case here +described, without any further key.] + +The motion granted, a day is appointed--ten days must elapse--for a +hearing before the Commissioner of "Special Bail," and his special jury. +The rosy-faced functionary, being a jolly and somewhat flexible sort of +man, must needs give his health an airing in the country. What is the +liberty of a poor white with us? Our Governor, whom we esteem singularly +sagacious, said it were better all our poor were enslaved, and this +opinion finds high favor with our first families. The worthy +Commissioner, in addition to taking care of his health, is expected to +make any number of speeches, full of wind and war, to several recently +called Secession Conventions. He will find time (being a General by +courtesy) to review the up-country militia, and the right and left +divisions of the South Carolina army. He will be feted by some few of +our most distinguished Generals, and lecture before the people of +Beaufort (a very noisy town of forty-two inhabitants, all heroes), to +whom he will prove the necessity of our State providing itself with an +independent steam navy. + +The old Antiquary is remanded back to jail--to wait the coming day. +Maria, almost breathless with anxiety, runs to him as he comes tottering +out of Court in advance of the official, lays her trembling hand upon +his arm, and looks inquiringly in his face. "Oh! my father, my +father!--released? released?" she inquires, with quivering lips and +throbbing heart. A forced smile plays over his time-worn face, he looks +upward, shakes his head in sorrow, and having patted her affectionately +on the shoulder, throws his arms about her neck and kisses her. That +mute appeal, that melancholy voucher of his sorrows, knells the painful +answer in her ears, "Then you are not free to come with me? Oh, father, +father!" and she wrings her hands and gives vent to her tears. + +"The time will come, my daughter, when my Judge will hear me--will judge +me right. My time will come soon--" And here the old man pauses, and +chokes with his emotions. Maria returns the old man's kiss, and being +satisfied that he is yet in the hands of his oppressors, sets about +cheering up his drooping spirits. "Don't think of me, father," she +says--"don't think of me! Let us put our trust in Him who can shorten +the days of our tribulation." She takes the old man's arm, and like one +who would forget her own troubles in her anxiety to relieve another, +supports him on his way back to prison. + +It is high noon. She stands before the prison gate, now glancing at the +serene sky, then at the cold, frowning walls, and again at the old pile, +as if contemplating the wearying hours he must pass within it. "Don't +repine--nerve yourself with resolution, and all will be well!" Having +said this with an air of confidence in herself, she throws her arms +about the old man's neck, presses him to her bosom, kisses and kisses +his wrinkled cheek, then grasps his hand warmly in her own. "Forget +those who persecute you, for it is good. Look above, father--to Him who +tempers the winds, who watches over the weak, and gives the victory to +the right!" She pauses, as the old man holds her hand in silence. "This +life is but a transient sojourn at best; full of hopes and fears, that, +like a soldier's dream, pass away when the battle is ended." Again she +fondly shakes his hand, lisps a sorrowing "good-bye," watches him, in +silence, out of sight, then turns away in tears, and seeks her home. +There is something so pure, so earnest in her solicitude for the old +man, that it seems more of heaven than earth. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII. + +A STORY WITHOUT WHICH THIS HISTORY WOULD BE FOUND WANTING. + + +On taking leave of her father, Maria, her heart overburdened with grief, +and her mind abstracted, turned towards the Battery, and continued, +slowly and sadly, until she found herself seated beneath a tree, looking +out upon the calm bay. Here, scarce conscious of those who were +observing her in their sallies, she mused until dusky evening, when the +air seemed hushed, and the busy hum of day was dying away in the +distance. The dark woodland on the opposite bank gave a bold border to +the soft picture; the ships rode sluggishly upon the polished waters; +the negro's touching song echoed and re-echoed along the shore; and the +boatman's chorus broke upon the stilly air in strains so dulcet. And as +the mellow shadows of night stole over the scene--as the heavens looked +down in all their sereneness, and the stars shone out, and twinkled, and +laughed, and danced upon the blue waters, and coquetted with the +moonbeams--for the moon was up, and shedding a halo of mystic light over +the scene--making night merry, nature seemed speaking to Maria in words +of condolence. Her heart was touched, her spirits gained strength, her +soul seemed in a loftier and purer atmosphere. + +"Poor, but virtuous--virtue ennobles the poor. Once gone, the world +never gives it back!" she muses, and is awakened from her reverie by a +sweet, sympathizing voice, whispering in her ear. "Woman! you are in +trouble,--linger no longer here, or you will fall into the hands of your +enemies." She looks up, and there stands at her side a young female, +whose beauty the angels might envy. The figure came upon her so suddenly +that she hesitates for a reply to the admonition. + +"Take this, it will do something toward relieving your wants (do not +open it now), and with this (she places a stiletto in her hand) you can +strike down the one who attempts your virtue. Nay, remember that while +you cling to that, you are safe--lose it, and you are gone forever. Your +troubles will soon end; mine are for a life-time. Yours find a +relaxation in your innocence; mine is seared into my heart with my own +shame. It is guilt--shame! that infuses into the heart that poison, for +which years of rectitude afford no antidote. Go quickly--get from this +lone place! You are richer than me." She slips something into Maria's +hand, and suddenly disappears. + +Maria rises from her seat, intending to follow the stranger, but she is +out of sight. Who can this mysterious messenger, this beautiful stranger +be? Maria muses. A thought flashes across her mind; it is she who sought +our house at midnight, when my father revealed her dark future! "Yes," +she says to herself, "it is the same lovely face; how oft it has flitted +in my fancy!" + +She reaches her home only to find its doors closed against her. A +ruthless landlord has taken her all, and forced her into the street. + +You may shut out the sterner sex without involving character or inviting +insult; but with woman the case is very different. However pure her +character, to turn her into the street, is to subject her to a stigma, +if not to fasten upon her a disgrace. You may paint, in your +imagination, the picture of a woman in distress, but you can know little +of the heart-achings of the sufferer. The surface only reflects the +faint gleams, standing out here and there like the lesser objects upon a +dark canvas. + +Maria turns reluctantly from that home of so many happy associations, to +wander about the streets and by-ways of the city. The houses of the rich +seem frowning upon her; her timid nature tells her they have no doors +open to her. The haunts of the poor, at this moment, infuse a sanguine +joyousness into her soul. How glad would she be, if they did but open to +her. Is not the Allwise, through the beauties of His works, holding her +up, while man only is struggling to pull her down? + +And while Maria wanders homeless about the streets of Charleston, we +must beg you, gentle reader, to accompany us into one of the great +thoroughfares of London, where is being enacted a scene appertaining to +this history. + +It is well-nigh midnight, the hour when young London is most astir in +his favorite haunts; when ragged and well-starved flower-girls, issuing +from no one knows where, beset your path through Trafalgar and Liecester +squares, and pierce your heart with their pleadings; when the Casinoes +of the Haymarket and Picadilly are vomiting into the streets their frail +but richly-dressed women; when gaudy supper-rooms, reeking of lobster +and bad liquor, are made noisy with the demands of their +flauntily-dressed customers; when little girls of thirteen are dodging +in and out of mysterious courts and passages leading to and from +Liecester square; when wily cabmen, ranged around the "great globe," +importune you for a last fare; and when the aristocratic swell, with +hectic face and maudlin laugh, saunters from his club-room to seek +excitement in the revels at Vauxhall. + +A brown mist hangs over the dull area of Trafalgar square. The bells of +old St. Martin's church have chimed merrily out their last night peal; +the sharp voice of the omnibus conductor no longer offends the ear; the +tiny little fountains have ceased to give out their green water; and the +lights of the Union Club on one side, and Morley's hotel on the other, +throw pale shadows into the open square. + +The solitary figure of a man, dressed in the garb of a gentleman, is +seen sauntering past Northumberland house, then up the east side of the +square. Now he halts at the corner of old St. Martin's church, turns and +contemplates the scene before him. On his right is that squatty mass of +freestone and smoke, Englishmen exultingly call the Royal Academy, but +which Frenchmen affect contempt for, and uninitiated Americans mistake +for a tomb. An equestrian statue of one of the Georges rises at the east +corner; Morley's Hotel, where Americans get poor fare and enormous +charges, with the privilege of fancying themselves quite as good as the +queen, on the left; the dead walls of Northumberland House, with their +prisonlike aspect, and the mounted lion, his tail high in air, and quite +as rigid as the Duke's dignity, in front; the opening that terminates +the Strand, and gives place to Parliament street, at the head of which +an equestrian statue of Charles the First, much admired by Englishmen, +stands, his back on Westminster; the dingy shops of Spring Garden, and +the Union Club to the right; and, towering high over all, Nelson's +Column, the statue looking as if it had turned its back in pity on the +little fountains, to look with contempt, first upon the bronze face of +the unfortunate Charles, then upon Parliament, whose parsimony in +withholding justice from his daughter, he would rebuke--and the picture +is complete. + +The stranger turns, walks slowly past the steps of St. Martin's church, +crosses to the opposite side of the street, and enters a narrow, wet, +and dimly-lighted court, on the left. Having passed up a few paces, he +finds himself hemmed in between the dead walls of St. Martin's +"Work-house" on one side, and the Royal Academy on the other. He +hesitates between fear and curiosity. The dull, sombre aspect of the +court is indeed enough to excite the fears of the timid; but curiosity +being the stronger impulse, he proceeds, resolved to explore it--to see +whence it leads. + +A short turn to the right, and he has reached the front wall of the +Queen's Barracks, on his left, and the entrance to the "Work-house," on +his right; the one overlooking the other, and separated by a narrow +street. Leave men are seen reluctantly returning in at the night-gate; +the dull tramp of the sentinel within sounds ominously on the still air; +and the chilly atmosphere steals into the system. Again the stranger +pauses, as if questioning the safety of his position. Suddenly a low +moan grates upon his ear, he starts back, then listens. Again it rises, +in a sad wail, and pierces his very heart. His first thought is, that +some tortured mortal is bemoaning his bruises in a cell of the +"Work-house," which he mistakes for a prison. But his eyes fall to the +ground, and his apprehensions are dispelled. + +The doors of the "Work-house" are fast closed; but there, huddled along +the cold pavement, and lying crouched upon its doorsteps, in heaps that +resemble the gatherings of a rag-seller, are four-and-thirty shivering, +famishing, and homeless human beings--[8] (mostly young girls and aged +women), who have sought at this "institution of charity" shelter for the +night, and bread to appease their hunger.[9] Alas! its ruthless keepers +have refused them bread, shut them into the street, and left them in +rags scarce sufficient to cover their nakedness, to sleep upon the cold +stones, a mute but terrible rebuke to those hearts that bleed over the +sorrows of Africa, but have no blood to give out when the object of pity +is a poor, heart-sick girl, forced to make the cold pavement her bed. +The stranger shudders. "Are these heaps of human beings?" he questions +within himself, doubting the reality before him. As if counting and +hesitating what course to pursue for their relief, he paces up and down +the grotesque mass, touching one, and gazing upon the haggard features +of another, who looks up to see what it is that disturbs her. Again the +low moan breaks on his ear, as the sentinel cries the first hour of +morning. The figure of a female, her head resting on one of the steps, +moves, a trembling hand steals from under her shawl, makes an effort to +reach her head, and falls numb at her side. "Her hand is cold--her +breathing like one in death--oh! God!--how terrible--what, what am I to +do?" he says, taking the sufferer's hand in his own. Now he rubs it, now +raises her head, makes an effort to wake a few of the miserable +sleepers, and calls aloud for help. "Help! help! help!" he shouts, and +the shout re-echoes through the air and along the hollow court. "A woman +is dying,--dying here on the cold stones--with no one to raise a hand +for her!" He seizes the exhausted woman in his arms, and with herculean +strength rushes up the narrow street, in the hope of finding relief at +the Gin Palace he sees at its head, in a blaze of light. But the body is +seized with spasms, an hollow, hysteric wail follows, his strength gives +way under the burden, and he sets the sufferer down in the shadow of a +gas light. Her dress, although worn threadbare, still bears evidence of +having belonged to one who has enjoyed comfort, and, perhaps, luxury. +Indeed, there is something about the woman which bespeaks her not of the +class generally found sleeping on the steps of St. Martin's Work-house. + +[Footnote 8: An institution for the relief of the destitute.] + +[Footnote 9: This sight may be seen at any time.] + +"What's here to do?" gruffly inquires a policeman, coming up with an air +of indifference. The stranger says the woman is dying. The policeman +stoops down, lays his hand upon her temples, then mechanically feels her +arms and hands. + +"And I--must die--die--die in the street," whispers the woman, her head +falling carelessly from the policeman's hand, in which it had rested. + +"Got her a bit below, at the Work'ouse door, among them wot sleeps +there, eh?" + +The stranger says he did. + +"A common enough thing," pursues the policeman; "this a bad lot. Anyhow, +we must give her a tow to the station." He rubs his hands, and prepares +to raise her from the ground. + +"Hold! hold," interrupts the other, "she will die ere you get her +there." + +"Die,--ah! yes, yes," whispers the woman. The mention of death seems to +have wrung like poison into her very soul. "Don't--don't move me--the +spell is almost broken. Oh! how can I die here, a wretch. Yes, I am +going now--let me rest, rest, rest," the moaning supplicant mutters in a +guttural voice, grasps spasmodically at the policeman's hand, heaves a +deep sigh, and sets her eyes fixedly upon the stranger. She seems +recognizing in his features something that gives her strength. + +"There--there--there!" she continues, incoherently, as a fit of +hysterics seize upon her; "you, you, you, have--yes, you have come at +the last hour, when my sufferings close. I see devils all about +me--haunting me--torturing my very soul--burning me up! See them! see +them!--here they come--tearing, worrying me--in a cloud of flame!" She +clutches with her hands, her countenance fills with despair, and her +body writhes in agony. + +"Bring brandy! warm,--stimulant! anything to give her strength! Quick! +quick!--go fetch it, or she is gone!" stammers out the stranger. + +In another minute she calms away, and sinks exhausted upon the pavement. +Policeman shakes his head, and says, "It 'ont do no good--she's done +for." + +The light of the "Trumpeter's Arms" still blazes into the street, while +a few greasy ale-bibbers sit moody about the tap-room. + +The two men raise the exhausted woman from the ground and carry her to +the door. Mine host of the Trumpeter's Arms shrugs his shoulders and +says, "She can't come in here." He fears she will damage the +respectability of his house. "The Work-house is the place for her," he +continues, gruffly. + +A sight at the stranger's well-filled purse, however, and a few +shillings slipped into the host's hand, secures his generosity and the +woman's admittance. "Indeed," says the host, bowing most servilely, +"gentlemen, the whole Trumpeter's Arms is at your service." The woman is +carried into a lonely, little back room, and laid upon a cot, which, +with two wooden chairs, constitutes its furniture. And while the +policeman goes in search of medical aid, the host of the Trumpeter's +bestirs himself right manfully in the forthcoming of a stimulant. The +stranger, meanwhile, lends himself to the care of the forlorn sufferer +with the gentleness of a woman. He smoothes her pillow, arranges her +dress tenderly, and administers the stimulant with a hand accustomed to +the sick. + +A few minutes pass, and the woman seems to revive and brighten up. Mine +host has set a light on the chair, at the side of the cot, and left her +alone with the stranger. Slowly she opens her eyes, and with increasing +anxiety sets them full upon him. Their recognition is mutual. "Madame +Flamingo!" ejaculates the man, grasping her hand. + +"Tom Swiggs!" exclaims the woman, burying her face for a second, then +pressing his hand to her lips, and kissing it with the fondness of a +child, as her eyes swim in tears. "How strange to find you thus--" +continues Tom, for truly it is he who sits by the forlorn woman. + +"More strange," mutters the woman, shaking her head sorrowfully, "that I +should be brought to this terrible end. I am dying--I cannot last +long--the fever has left me only to die a neglected wretch. Hear +me--hear me, while I tell you the tale of my troubles, that others may +take warning. And may God give me strength. And you--if I have wronged +you, forgive me--it is all I can ask in this world." Here Tom +administers another draught of warm brandy and water, the influence of +which is soon perceptible in the regaining strength of the patient. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIX. + +A STORY WITH MANY COUNTERPARTS. + + +A very common story is this of Madame Flamingo's troubles. It has +counterparts enough, and though they may be traced to a class of society +less notorious than that with which she moved, are generally kept in the +dark chamber of hidden thoughts. We are indeed fast gaining an +unenviable fame for snobbery, for affecting to be what we never can be, +and for our sad imitation of foreign flunkydom, which, finding us rivals +in the realm of its tinsil, begins to button up its coat and look +contemptuously at us over the left shoulder. If, albeit, the result of +that passion for titles and plush (things which the empty-headed of the +old world would seem to have consigned to the empty-headed of the new), +which has of late so singularly discovered itself among our "best-known +families," could be told, it would unfold many a tale of misery and +betrayal. Pardon this digression, generous reader, and proceed with us +to the story of Madame Flamingo. + +"And now," says the forlorn woman, in a faint, hollow voice, "when my +ambition seemed served--I was ambitious, perhaps vain--I found myself +the victim of an intrigue. I ask forgiveness of Him who only can forgive +the wicked; but how can I expect to gain it?" She presses Tom's hand, +and pauses for a second. "Yes, I was ambitious," she continues, "and +there was something I wanted. I had money enough to live in comfort, +but the thought that it was got of vice and the ruin of others, weighed +me down. I wanted the respect of the world. To die a forgotten wretch; +to have the grave close over me, and if remembered at all, only with +execration, caused me many a dark thought." Here she struggles to +suppress her emotions. "I sought to change my condition; that, you see, +has brought me here. I married one to whom I intrusted my all, in whose +rank, as represented to me by Mr. Snivel, and confirmed by his friend, +the Judge, I confided. I hoped to move with him to a foreign country, +where the past would all be wiped out, and where the associations of +respectable society would be the reward of future virtue. + +"In London, where I now reap the fruits of my vanity, we enjoyed good +society for a time, were sought after, and heaped with attentions. But I +met those who had known me; it got out who I was; I was represented much +worse than I was, and even those who had flattered me in one sphere, did +not know me. In Paris it was the same. And there my husband said it +would not do to be known by his titles, for, being an exile, it might be +the means of his being recognized and kidnapped, and carried back a +prisoner to his own dear Poland. In this I acquiesced, as I did in +everything else that lightened his cares. Gradually he grew cold and +morose towards me, left me for days at a time, and returned only to +abuse and treat me cruelly. He had possession of all my money, which I +soon found he was gambling away, without gaining an entree for me into +society. + +"From Paris we travelled, as if without any settled purpose, into Italy, +and from thence to Vienna, where I discovered that instead of being a +prince, my husband was an impostor, and I his dupe. He had formerly +been a crafty shoemaker; was known to the police as a notorious +character, who, instead of having been engaged in the political +struggles of his countrymen, had fled the country to escape the penalty +of being the confederate of a desperate gang of coiners and +counterfeiters. We had only been two days in Vienna when I found he had +disappeared, and left me destitute of money or friends. My connection +with him only rendered my condition more deplorable, for the police +would not credit my story; and while he eluded its vigilance, I was +suspected of being a spy in the confidence of a felon, and ruthlessly +ordered to leave the country." + +"Did not your passport protect you?" interrupts Tom, with evident +feeling. + +"No one paid it the least regard," resumes Madame Flamingo, becoming +weaker and weaker. "No one at our legations evinced sympathy for me. +Indeed, they all refused to believe my story. I wandered back from city +to city, selling my wardrobe and the few jewels I had left, and +confidently expecting to find in each place I entered, some one I had +known, who would listen to my story, and supply me with means to reach +my home. I could soon have repaid it, but my friends had gone with my +money; no one dare venture to trust me--no one had confidence in +me--every one to whom I appealed had an excuse that betrayed their +suspicion of me. Almost destitute, I found myself back in London--how I +got here, I scarce know--where I could make myself understood. My hopes +now brightened, I felt that some generous-hearted captain would give me +a passage to New York, and once home, my troubles would end. But being +worn down with fatigue, and my strength prostrated, a fever set in, and +I was forced to seek refuge in a miserable garret in Drury-Lane, and +where I parted with all but what now remains on my back, to procure +nourishment. I had begun to recover somewhat, but the malady left me +broken down, and when all was gone, I was turned into the street. Yes, +yes, yes, (she whispers,) they gave me to the streets; for twenty-four +hours I have wandered without nourishment, or a place to lay my head. I +sought shelter in a dark court, and there laid down to die; and when my +eyes were dim, and all before me seemed mysterious and dark with curious +visions, a hand touched me, and I felt myself borne away." Here her +voice chokes, she sinks back upon the pillow, and closes her eyes as her +hands fall careless at her side. "She breathes! she breathes yet!" says +Tom, advancing his ear to the pale, quivering lips of the wretched +woman. Now he bathes her temples with the vinegar from a bottle in the +hand of the host, who is just entered, and stands looking on, his +countenance full of alarm. + +"If she deys in my 'ouse, good sir, w'oat then?" + +"You mean the expense?" + +"Just so--it 'll be nae trifle, ye kno'!" The host shakes his head, +doubtingly. Tom begs he will not be troubled about that, and gives +another assurance from his purse that quite relieves the host's +apprehensions. A low, heavy breathing, followed by a return of spasms, +bespeaks the sinking condition of the sufferer. The policeman returns, +preceded by a physician--the only one to be got at, he says--in very +dilapidated broadcloth, and whose breath is rather strong of gin. "An' +whereabutes did ye pick the woman up,--an, an, wha's teu stond the +bill?" he inquires, in a deep Scotch brogue, then ordering the little +window opened, feels clumsily the almost pulseless hand. Encouraged on +the matter of his bill, he turns first to the host, then to Tom, and +says, "the wuman's nae much, for she's amast dede wi' exhaustion." And +while he is ordering a nostrum he knows can do no good, the woman makes +a violent struggle, opens her eyes, and seems casting a last glance +round the dark room. Now she sets them fixedly upon the ceiling, her +lips pale, and her countenance becomes spectre-like--a low, gurgling +sound is heard, the messenger of retribution is come--Madame Flamingo is +dead! + + + + +CHAPTER XL. + +IN WHICH THE LAW IS SEEN TO CONFLICT WITH OUR CHERISHED CHIVALRY. + + +"What could the woman mean, when on taking leave of me she said, 'you +are far richer than me?'" questions Maria McArthur to herself, when, +finding she is alone and homeless in the street, she opens the packet +the woman Anna slipped so mysteriously into her hand, and finds it +contains two twenty-dollar gold pieces. And while evolving in her mind +whether she shall appropriate them to the relief of her destitute +condition, her conscience smites her. It is the gold got of vice. Her +heart shares the impulse that prompted the act, but her pure spirit +recoils from the acceptance of such charity. "You are far richer than +me!" knells in her ears, and reveals to her the heart-burnings of the +woman who lives in licentious splendor. "I have no home, no friend near +me, and nowhere to lay my head; and yet I am richer than her;" she says, +gazing at the moon, and the stars, and the serene heavens. And the +contemplation brings to her consolation and strength. She wanders back +to the gate of the old prison, resolved to return the gold in the +morning, and, was the night not so far spent, ask admittance into the +cell her father occupies. But she reflects, and turns away; well knowing +how much more painful will be the smart of his troubles does she +disclose to him what has befallen her. + +She continues sauntering up a narrow by-lane in the outskirts of the +city. A light suddenly flashes across her path, glimmers from the window +of a little cabin, and inspires her with new hopes. She quickens her +steps, reaches the door, meets a welcome reception, and is made +comfortable for the night by the mulatto woman who is its solitary +tenant. The woman, having given Maria of her humble cheer, seems only +too anxious to disclose the fact that she is the slave and cast-off +mistress of Judge Sleepyhorn, on whose head she invokes no few curses. +It does not touch her pride so much that he has abandoned her, as that +he has taken to himself one of another color. She is tall and straight +of figure, with prominent features, long, silky black hair, and a rich +olive complexion; and though somewhat faded of age, it is clear that she +possessed in youth charms of great value in the flesh market. + +Maria discloses to her how she came in possession of the money, as also +her resolve to return it in the morning. Undine (for such is her name) +applauds this with great gusto. "Now, thar!" she says, "that's the +spirit I likes." And straightway she volunteers to be the medium of +returning the money, adding that she will show the hussy her contempt of +her by throwing it at her feet, and "letting her see a _slave_ knows all +about it." + +Maria fully appreciates the kindness, as well as sympathizes with the +wounded pride of this slave daughter; nevertheless, there is an +humiliation in being driven to seek shelter in a negro cabin that +touches her feelings. For a white female to seek shelter under the roof +of a negro's cabin, is a deep disgrace in the eyes of our very refined +society; and having subjected herself to the humiliation, she knows full +well that it may be used against her--in fine, made a means to defame +her character. + +Night passes away, and the morning ushers in soft and sunny, but brings +with it nothing to relieve her situation. She, however, returns the gold +to Anna through a channel less objectionable than that Undine would have +supplied, and sallies out to seek lodgings. In a house occupied by a +poor German family, she seeks and obtains a little room, wherein she +continues plying at her needle. + +The day set apart for the trial before a jury of "special bail" arrives. +The rosy-faced commissioner is in his seat, a very good-natured jury is +impanelled, and the feeble old man is again brought into court. Maria +saunters, thoughtful, and anxious for the result, at the outer door. +Peter Crimpton rises, addresses the jury at great length, sets forth the +evident intention of fraud on the part of the applicant, and the +enormity of the crime. He will now prove his objections by competent +witnesses. The proceedings being in accordance with what Mr. Snivel +facetiously terms the strict rules of special pleading, the old man's +lips are closed. Several very respectable witnesses are called, and aver +they saw the old Antiquary with a gold watch mounted, at a recent date; +witnesses quite as dependable aver they have known him for many years, +but never mounted with anything so extravagant as a gold watch. So much +for the validity of testimony! It is very clear that the very +respectable witnesses have confounded some one else with the prisoner. + +The Antiquary openly confesses to the possession of a pin, and the +curious skull (neither of which are valuable beyond their associations), +but declares it more an oversight than an intention that they were left +out of the schedule. For the virtue of the schedule, Mr. Crimpton is +singularly scrupulous; nor does it soften his aspersions that the old +man offers to resign them for the benefit of the State. Mr. Crimpton +gives his case to the jury, expressing his belief that a verdict will be +rendered in his favor. A verdict of guilty (for so it is rendered in our +courts) will indeed give the prisoner to him for an indefinite period. +In truth, the only drawback is that the plaintiff will be required to +pay thirty cents a day to Mr. Hardscrabble, who will starve him rightly +soundly. + +The jury, very much to Mr. Crimpton's chagrin, remain seated, and +declare the prisoner not guilty. Was this sufficient--all the law +demanded? No. Although justice might have been satisfied, the law had +other ends to serve, and in the hands of an instrument like Crimpton, +could be turned to uses delicacy forbids our transcribing here. The old +man's persecutors were not satisfied; the verdict of the jury was with +him, but the law gave his enemies power to retain him six months longer. +Mr. Crimpton demands a writ of appeal to the sessions. The Commissioner +has no alternative, notwithstanding the character of the pretext upon +which it is demanded is patent on its face. Such is but a feeble +description of one of the many laws South Carolina retains on her +statute book to oppress the poor and give power to the rich. If we would +but purge ourselves of this distemper of chivalry and secession, that so +blinds our eyes to the sufferings of the poor, while driving our +politicians mad over the country (we verily believe them all coming to +the gallows or insane hospital), how much higher and nobler would be our +claim to the respect of the world! + +Again the old man is separated from his daughter, placed in the hands of +a bailiff, and remanded back to prison, there to hope, fear, and while +away the time, waiting six, perhaps eight months, for the sitting of the +Court of Appeals. The "Appeal Court," you must know, would seem to have +inherited the aristocracy of our ancestors, for, having a great aversion +to business pursuits, it sits at very long intervals, and gets through +very little business. + +When the news of her father's remand reaches Maria, it overwhelms her +with grief. Varied are her thoughts of how she shall provide for the +future; dark and sad are the pictures of trouble that rise up before +her. Look whichever way she will, her ruin seems sealed. The health of +her aged father is fast breaking--her own is gradually declining under +the pressure of her troubles. Rapidly forced from one extreme to +another, she appeals to a few acquaintances who have expressed +friendship for her father; but their friendship took wings when grim +poverty looked in. Southern hospitality, though bountifully bestowed +upon the rich, rarely condescends to shed its bright rays over the needy +poor. + +Maria advertises for a situation, in some of our first families, as +private seamstress. Our first families having slaves for such offices, +have no need of "poor white trash." She applies personally to several +ladies of "eminent standing," and who busy themselves in getting up +donations for northern Tract Societies. They have no sympathy to waste +upon her. Her appeal only enlists coldness and indifference. The "Church +Home" had lent an ear to her story, but that her address is very +unsatisfactory, and it is got out that she is living a very suspicious +life. The "Church Home," so virtuous and pious, can do nothing for her +until she improves her mode of living. Necessity pinches Maria at every +turn. "To be poor in a slave atmosphere, is truly a crime," she says to +herself, musing over her hard lot, while sitting in her chamber one +evening. "But I am the richer! I will rise above all!" She has just +prepared to carry some nourishment to her father, when Keepum enters, +his face flushed, and his features darkened with a savage scowl. "I have +said you were a fool--all women are fools!--and now I know I was not +mistaken!" This Mr. Keepum says while throwing his hat sullenly upon the +floor. "Well," he pursues, having seated himself in a chair, looked +designingly at the candle, then contorted his narrow face, and frisked +his fingers through his bright red hair, "as to this here wincing and +mincing--its all humbuggery of a woman like you. Affecting such morals! +Don't go down here; tell you that, my spunky girl. Loose morals is what +takes in poor folks." + +Maria answers him only with a look of scorn. She advances to the door to +find it locked. + +"It was me--I locked it. Best to be private about the matter," says +Keepum, a forced smile playing over his countenance. + +Unresolved whether to give vent to her passion, or make an effort to +inspire his better nature, she stands a few moments, as if immersed in +deep thought, then suddenly falls upon her knees at his feet, and +implores him to save her this last step to her ruin. "Hear me, oh, hear +me, and let your heart give out its pity for one who has only her virtue +left her in this world;" she appeals to him with earnest voice, and eyes +swimming in tears. "Save my father, for you have power. Give him his +liberty, that I, his child, his only comfort in his old age, may make +him happy. Yes! yes!--he will die where he is. Will you, can you--you +have a heart--see me struggle against the rude buffets of an unthinking +world! Will you not save me from the Poor-house--from the shame that +awaits me with greedy clutches, and receive in return the blessing of a +friendless woman! Oh!--you will, you will--release my father!--give him +back to me and make me happy. Ah, ha!--I see, I see, you have feelings, +better feelings--feelings that are not seared. You will have pity on me; +you will forgive, relent--you cannot see a wretch suffer and not be +moved to lighten her pain!" The calm, pensive expression that lights up +her countenance is indeed enough to inspire the tender impulses of a +heart in which every sense of generosity is not dried up. + +Her appeal, nevertheless, falls ineffectual. Mr. Keepum has no generous +impulses to bestow upon beings so sensitive of their virtue. With him, +it is a ware of very little value, inasmuch as the moral standard fixed +by a better class of people is quite loose. He rises from his chair with +an air of self-confidence, seizes her by the hand, and attempts to drag +her upon his knee, saying, "you know I can and will make you a lady. +Upon the honor of a gentleman, I love you--always have loved you; but +what stands in the way, and is just enough to make any gentleman of my +standing mad, is this here squeamishness--" + +"No! no! go from me. Attempt not again to lay your cruel hands upon me!" +The goaded woman struggles from his grasp, and shrieks for help at the +very top of her voice. And as the neighbors come rushing up stairs, Mr. +Keepum valorously betakes himself into the street. Maddened with +disappointment, and swearing to have revenge, he seeks his home, and +there muses over the "curious woman's" unswerving resolution. "Cruelty!" +he says to himself--"she charges me with cruelty! Well," (here he sighs) +"it's only because she lacks a bringing up that can appreciate a +gentleman." (Keepum could never condescend to believe himself less than +a very fine gentleman.) "As sure as the world the creature is somewhat +out in the head. She fancies all sorts of things--shame, disgrace, and +ruin!--only because she don't understand the quality of our +morality--that's all! There's no harm, after all, in these little +enjoyments--if the girl would only understand them so. Our society is +free from pedantry; and there--no damage can result where no one's the +wiser. It's like stealing a blush from the cheek of beauty--nobody +misses it, and the cheek continues as beautiful as ever." Thus +philosophizes the chivalric gentleman, until he falls into a fast +sleep. + + + + +CHAPTER XLI. + +IN WHICH JUSTICE IS SEEN TO BE VERY ACCOMMODATING. + + +A few days have elapsed, Maria has just paid a visit to her father, +still in prison, and may be seen looking in at Mr. Keepum's office, in +Broad street. "I come not to ask a favor, sir; but, at my father's +request, to say to you that, having given up all he has in the world, it +can do no good to any one to continue him in durance, and to ask of +you--in whom the sole power rests--that you will grant him his release +ere he dies?" She addresses Mr. Keepum, who seems not in a very good +temper this morning, inasmuch as several of his best negroes, without +regard to their value to him, got a passion for freedom into their +heads, and have taken themselves away. In addition to this, he is much +put out, as he says, at being compelled to forego the pleasure held out +on the previous night, of tarring and feathering two northerners +suspected of entertaining sentiments not exactly straight on the +"peculiar question." A glorious time was expected, and a great deal of +very strong patriotism wasted; but the two unfortunate individuals, by +some means not yet discovered, got the vigilance committee, to whose +care they were entrusted, very much intoxicated, and were not to be +found when called for. Free knives, and not free speech, is our motto. +And this Mr. Keepum is one of the most zealous in carrying out. + +Mr. Keepum sits, his hair fretted back over his lean forehead, before a +table covered with papers, all indicating an immense business in lottery +and other speculations. Now he deposits his feet upon it; leans back in +his chair, puffs his cigar, and says, with an air of indifference to the +speaker: "I shall not be able to attend to any business of yours to-day, +Madam!" His clerk, a man of sturdy figure, with a broad, red face, and +dressed in rather dilapidated broadcloth, is passing in and out of the +front office, bearing in his fingers documents that require a signature +or mark of approval. + +"I only come, sir, to tell you that we are destitute--" Maria pauses, +and stands trembling in the doorway. + +"That's a very common cry," interrupts Keepum, relieving his mouth of +the cigar. "The affair is entirely out of my hands. Go to my attorney, +Peter Crimpton, Esq.,--what he does for you will receive my sanction. I +must not be interrupted to-day. I might express a thousand regrets; yes, +pass an opinion on your foolish pride, but what good would it do." + +And while Maria stands silent and hesitating, there enters the office +abruptly a man in the garb of a mechanic. "I have come," speaks the man, +in a tone of no very good humor, "for the last time. I asks of you--you +professes to be a gentleman--my honest rights. If the law don't give it +to me, I mean to take it with this erehand." (He shakes his hand at +Keepum.) "I am a poor man who ain't thought much of because I works for +a living; you have got what I had worked hard for, and lain up to make +my little family comfortable. I ask a settlement and my own--what is +due from one honest man to another!" He now approaches the table, +strikes his hand upon it, and pauses for a reply. + +Mr. Keepum coolly looks up, and with an insidious leer, says, "There, +take yourself into the street. When next you enter a gentleman's office, +learn to deport yourself with good manners." + +"Pshaw! pshaw!" interrupts the man. "What mockery! When men like +you--yes, I say men like you--that has brought ruin on so many poor +families, can claim to be gentlemen, rogues may get a patent for their +order." The man turns to take his departure, when the infuriated Keepum, +who, as we have before described, gets exceedingly put out if any one +doubts his honor, seizes an iron bar, and stealing up behind, fetches +him a blow over the head that fells him lifeless to the floor. + +Maria shrieks, and vaults into the street. The mass upon the floor +fetches a last agonizing shrug, and a low moan, and is dead. The +murderer stands over him, exultant, as the blood streams from the deep +fracture. In fine, the blood of his victim would seem rather to increase +his satisfaction at the deed, than excite a regret. + +Call you this murder? Truly, the man has outraged God's law. And the +lover of law and order, of social good, and moral honesty, would find +reasons for designating the perpetrator an assassin. For has he not +first distressed a family, and then left it bereft of its protector? You +may think of it and designate it as you please. Nevertheless we, in our +fancied mightiness, cannot condescend to such vulgar considerations. We +esteem it extremely courageous of Mr. Keepum, to defend himself "to the +death" against the insults of one of the common herd. Our first +families applaud the act, our sensitive press say it was "an unfortunate +affair," and by way of admonition, add that it were better working +people be more careful how they approach gentlemen. Mr. Snivel will call +this, the sublime quality of our chivalry. What say the jury of inquest? + +Duly weighing the high position of Mr. Keepum, and the very low +condition of the deceased, the good-natured jury return a verdict that +the man met his death in consequence of an accidental blow, administered +with an iron instrument, in the hands of one Keepum. From the +testimony--Keepum's clerk--it is believed the act was committed in +self-defence. + +Mr. Keepum, as is customary with our fine gentlemen, and like a hero (we +will not content ourselves with making him one jot less), magnanimously +surrenders himself to the authorities. The majesty of our laws is not +easily offended by gentlemen of standing. Only the poor and the helpless +slave can call forth the terrible majesty of the law, and quicken to +action its sensitive quality. The city is shocked that Mr. Keepum is +subjected to a night in jail, notwithstanding he has the jailer's best +parlor, and a barricade of champaign bottles are strewn at his feet by +flattering friends, who make night jubilant with their carousal. + +Southern society asks no repentance of him whose hands reek with the +blood of his poor victim; southern society has no pittance for that +family Keepum has made lick the dust in tears and sorrow. Even while we +write--while the corpse of the murdered man, followed by a few brother +craftsmen, is being borne to its last resting-place, the perpetrator, +released on a paltry bail, is being regaled at a festive board. Such is +our civilization! How had the case stood with a poor man! Could he have +stood up against the chivalry of South Carolina, scoffed at the law, or +bid good-natured justice close her eyes? No. He had been dragged to a +close cell, and long months had passed ere the tardy movements of the +law reached his case. Even then, popular opinion would have turned upon +him, pre-judged him, and held him up as dangerous to the peace of the +people. Yes, pliant justice would have affected great virtue, and +getting on her high throne, never ceased her demands until he had +expiated his crime at the gallows. + +A few weeks pass: Keepum's reputation for courage is fully endorsed, the +Attorney-General finds nothing in the act to justify him in bringing it +before a Grand Jury, the law is satisfied (or ought to be satisfied), +and the rich murderer sleeps without a pang of remorse. + + + + +CHAPTER XLII. + +IN WHICH SOME LIGHT IS THROWN ON THE PLOT OF THIS HISTORY. + + +June, July, and August are past away, and September, with all its +autumnal beauties, ushers in, without bringing anything to lighten the +cares of that girl whose father yet pines in prison. She looks forward, +hoping against hope, to the return of her lover (something tells her he +still lives), only to feel more keenly the pangs of hope deferred. + +And now, once more, New York, we are in thy busy streets. It is a +pleasant evening in early September. The soft rays of an autumn sun are +tinging the western sky, and night is fast drawing her sable mantle over +the scene. In Washington Square, near where the tiny fountain jets its +stream into a round, grassy-bordered basin, there sits a man of middle +stature, apparently in deep study. His dress is plain, and might be +taken for that of either a working man, or a somewhat faded inspector of +customs. Heedless of those passing to and fro, he sits until night +fairly sets in, then rises, and faces towards the East. Through the +trunks of trees he sees, and seems contemplating the gray walls of the +University, and the bold, sombre front of the very aristocratic church +of the Reformed Dutch. + +"Well!" he mutters to himself, resuming his seat, and again facing to +the west, "this ere business of ourn is a great book of life--'tis that! +Finds us in queer places; now and then mixed up curiously." He rises a +second time, advances to a gas-light, draws a letter from his pocket, +and scans, with an air of evident satisfaction, over the contents. +"Umph!" he resumes, and shrugs his shoulders, "I was right on the +address--ought to have known it without looking." Having resumed his +seat, he returns the letter to his pocket, sits with his elbow upon his +knee, and his head rested thoughtfully in his right hand. The picture +before him, so calm and soft, has no attractions for him. The dusky hues +of night, for slowly the scene darkens, seem lending a softness and +calmness to the foliage. The weeping branches of the willow, +interspersed here and there, as if to invest the picture with a touching +melancholy, sway gently to and fro; the leaves of the silvery poplar +tremble and reflect their shadows on the fresh waters; and the flitting +gas-lights mingle their gleams, play and sport over the rippled surface, +coquet with the tripping star-beams, then throw fantastic lights over +the swaying foliage; and from beneath the massive branches of trees, +there shines out, in bold relief, the marble porticoes and lintels of +stately-looking mansions. Such is the calm grandeur of the scene, that +one could imagine some Thalia investing it with a poetic charm the gods +might muse over. + +"It is not quite time yet," says the man, starting suddenly to his feet. +He again approaches a gas-light, looks attentively at his watch, then +saunters to the corner of Fourth and Thompson streets. An old, +dilapidated wooden building, which some friend has whitewashed into +respectability, and looking as if it had a strong inclination to tumble +either upon the sidewalk, or against the great trunk of a hoary-headed +tree at the corner, arrests his attention. "Well," he says, having +paused before it, and scanned its crooked front, "this surely is the +house where the woman lived when she was given the child. Practice, and +putting two things together to find what one means, is the great thing +in our profession. Like its old tenant, the house has got down a deal. +It's on its last legs." Again he consults his watch, and with a +quickened step recrosses the Square, and enters ---- Avenue. Now he +halts before a spacious mansion, the front of which is high and bold, +and deep, and of brown freestone. The fluted columns; the +elegantly-chiselled lintels; the broad, scrolled window-frames; the +exactly-moulded arches; the massive steps leading to the deep, vaulted +entrance, with its doors of sombre and highly-polished walnut; and its +bold style of architecture, so grand in its outlines,--all invest it +with a regal air. The man casts a glance along the broad avenue, then +into the sombre entrance of the mansion. Now he seems questioning within +himself whether to enter or retrace his steps. One-half of the outer +door, which is in the Italian style, with heavy fluted mouldings, stands +ajar; while from out the lace curtains of the inner, there steals a +faint light. The man rests his elbow on the great stone scroll of the +guard-rail, and here we leave him for a few moments. + +The mansion, it may be well to add here, remains closed the greater part +of the year; and when opened seems visited by few persons, and those not +of the very highest standing in society. A broken-down politician, a +seedy hanger-on of some "literary club," presided over by a rich, but +very stupid tailor, and now and then a lady about whose skirts something +not exactly straight hangs, and who has been elbowed out of fashionable +society for her too ardent love of opera-singers, and handsome actors, +may be seen dodging in now and then. Otherwise, the mansion would seem +very generally deserted by the neighborhood. + +Everybody will tell you, and everybody is an individual so extremely +busy in other people's affairs, that he ought to know, that there is +something that hangs so like a rain-cloud about the magnificent skirts +of those who live so secluded "in that fine old pile," (mansion,) that +the virtuous satin of the Avenue never can be got to "mix in." Indeed, +the Avenue generally seems to have set its face against those who reside +in it. They enjoy none of those very grand assemblies, balls, and +receptions, for which the Avenue is become celebrated, and yet they +luxuriate in wealth and splendor. + +Though the head of the house seems banished by society, society makes +her the subject of many evil reports and mysterious whisperings. The +lady of the mansion, however, as if to retort upon her traducers, makes +it known that she is very popular abroad, every now and then during her +absence honoring them with mysterious clippings from foreign +journals--all setting forth the admiration her appearance called forth +at a grand reception given by the Earl and Countess of ----. + +Society is made of inexorable metal, she thinks, for the prejudices of +the neighborhood have not relaxed one iota with time. That she has been +presented to kings, queens, and emperors; that she has enjoyed the +hospitalities of foreign embassies; that she has (and she makes no +little ado that she has) shone in the assemblies of prime ministers; +that she has been invited to court concerts, and been the flattered of +no end of fashionable _coteries_, serves her nothing at home. They are +events, it must be admitted, much discussed, much wondered at, much +regretted by those who wind themselves up in a robe of stern morality. +In a few instances they are lamented, lest the morals and manners of +those who make it a point to represent us abroad should reflect only the +brown side of our society. + +As if with regained confidence, the man, whom we left at the door +scroll, is seen slowly ascending the broad steps. He enters the vaulted +vestibule, and having touched the great, silver bell-knob of the inner +door, stands listening to the tinkling chimes within. A pause of several +minutes, and the door swings cautiously open. There stands before him +the broad figure of a fussy servant man, wedged into a livery quite like +that worn by the servants of an English tallow-chandler, but which, it +must be said, and said to be regretted, is much in fashion with our +aristocracy, who, in consequence of its brightness, believe it the exact +style of some celebrated lord. The servant receives a card from the +visitor, and with a bow, inquires if he will wait an answer. + +"I will wait the lady's pleasure--I came by appointment," returns the +man. And as the servant disappears up the hall, he takes a seat, +uninvited, upon a large settee, in carved walnut. "Something mysterious +about this whole affair!" he muses, scanning along the spacious hall, +into the conservatory of statuary and rare plants, seen opening away at +the extreme end. The high, vaulted roof; the bright, tesselated floor; +the taste with which the frescoes decorating the walls are designed; +the great winding stairs, so richly carpeted--all enhanced in beauty by +the soft light reflected upon them from a massive chandelier of stained +glass, inspire him with a feeling of awe. The stillness, and the air of +grandeur pervading each object that meets his eye, reminds him of the +halls of those mediaeval castles he has read of in his youth. The servant +returns, and makes his bow. "My leady," he says, in a strong +Lincolnshire brogue, "'as weated ye an 'our or more." + +The visitor, evincing some nervousness, rises quickly to his feet, +follows the servant up the hall, and is ushered into a parlor of regal +dimensions, on the right. His eye falls upon one solitary occupant, who +rises from a lounge of oriental richness, and advances towards him with +an air of familiarity their conditions seem not to warrant. Having +greeted the visitor, and bid him be seated (he takes his seat, shyly, +beside the door), the lady resumes her seat in a magnificent chair. For +a moment the visitor scans over the great parlor, as if moved by the +taste and elegance of everything that meets his eye. The hand of art has +indeed been lavishly laid on the decorations of this chamber, which +presents a scene of luxury princes might revel in. And though the soft +wind of whispering silks seemed lending its aid to make complete the +enjoyment of the occupant, it might be said, in the words of Crabbe: + + "But oh, what storm was in that mind!" + +The person of the lady is in harmony with the splendor of the apartment. +Rather tall and graceful of figure, her complexion pale, yet soft and +delicate, her features as fine and regular as ever sculptor chiselled, +her manner gentle and womanly. In her face, nevertheless, there is an +expression of thoughtfulness, perhaps melancholy, to which her large, +earnest black eyes, and finely-arched brows, fringed with dark lashes, +lend a peculiar charm. While over all there plays a shadow of languor, +increased perhaps by the tinge of age, or a mind and heart overtaxed +with cares. + +"I received your note, which I hastened to answer. Of course you +received my answer. I rejoice that you have persevered, and succeeded in +finding the object I have so long sought. Not hearing from you for so +many weeks, I had begun to fear she had gone forever," says the lady, in +a soft, musical voice, raising her white, delicate hand to her cheek, +which is suffused with blushes. + +"I had myself almost given her over, for she disappeared from the +Points, and no clue could be got of her," returns the man, pausing for a +moment, then resuming his story. "A week ago yesterday she turned up +again, and I got wind that she was in a place we call 'Black-beetle +Hole'--" + +"Black-beetle Hole!" ejaculates the lady, whom the reader will have +discovered is no less a person than Madame Montford. Mr. Detective +Fitzgerald is the visitor. + +"Yes, there's where she's got, and it isn't much of a place, to say the +best. But when a poor creature has no other place to get a stretch down, +she stretches down there--" + +"Proceed to how you found her, and what you have got from her concerning +the child," the lady interrupts, with a deep sigh. + +"Well," proceeds the detective, "I meets--havin' an eye out all the +while--Sergeant Dobbs one morning--Dobbs knows every roost in the Points +better than me!--and says he, 'Fitzgerald, that are woman, that crazy +woman, you've been in tow of so long, has turned up. There was a row in +Black-beetle Hole last night. I got a force and descended into the +place, found it crammed with them half-dead kind of women and men, and +three thieves, what wanted to have a fuss with the hag that keeps it. +One on 'em was thrashing the poor crazy woman. They had torn all the +rags off her back. Hows-ever, if you wants to fish her out, you'd better +be spry about it--'" + +The lady interrupts by saying she will disguise, and with his +assistance, go bring her from the place--save her! Mr. Fitzgerald begs +she will take the matter practically. She could not breathe the air of +the place, he says. + +"'Thank you Dobbs,' says I," he resumes, "and when it got a bit dark I +went incog. to Black-beetle's Hole--" + +"And where is this curious place?" she questions, with an air of +anxiety. + +"As to that, Madame--well, you wouldn't know it was lived in, because +its underground, and one not up to the entrance never would think it led +to a place where human beings crawled in at night. I don't wonder so +many of 'em does things what get 'em into the Station, and after that +treated to a short luxury on the Island. As I was goin' on to say, I got +myself fortified, started out into the Points, and walked--we take these +things practically--down and up the east sidewalk, then stopped in front +of the old rotten house that Black-beetle Hole is under. Then I looks +down the wet little stone steps, that ain't wide enough for a big man +to get down, and what lead into the cellar. Some call it Black-beetle +Hole, and then again some call it the Hole of the Black-beetles. 'Yer +after no good, Mr. Fitzgerald,' says Mrs. McQuade, whose husband keeps +the junk-shop over the Hole, putting her malicious face out of the +window. + +"'You're the woman I want, Mrs. McQuade,' says I. 'Don't be puttin' your +foot in the house,' says she. And when I got her temper a little down by +telling her I only wanted to know who lived in the Hole, she swore by +all the saints it had niver a soul in it, and was hard closed up. Being +well up to the dodges of the Points folks, I descended the steps, and +gettin' underground, knocked at the Hole door, and then sent it smash +in. 'Well! who's here?' says I. 'It's me,' says Mrs. Lynch, a knot of an +old woman, who has kept the Hole for many years, and says she has no +fear of the devil." + +Madame Montford listens with increasing anxiety; Mr. Detective +Fitzgerald proceeds: "'Get a light here, then;' says I. You couldn't see +nothing, it was so dark, but you could hear 'em move, and breathe. And +then the place was so hot and sickly. Had to stand it best way I could. +There was no standing straight in the dismal place, which was wet and +nasty under foot, and not more nor twelve by fourteen. The old woman +said she had only a dozen lodgers in; when she made out to get a light +for me I found she had twenty-three, tucked away here and there, under +straw and stuff. Well, it was curious to see 'em (here the detective +wipes his forehead with his handkerchief) rise up, one after another, +all round you, you know, like fiends that had been buried for a time, +then come to life merely to get something to eat." + +"And did you find the woman--and was she one of them?" + +"That's what I'm comin' at. Well, I caught a sight at the woman; knew +her at the glance. I got a sight at her one night in the Pit at the +House of the Nine Nations. 'Here! I wants you,' says I, takin' what +there was left of her by the arm. She shrieked, and crouched down, and +begged me not to hurt her, and looked wilder than a tiger at me. And +then the whole den got into a fright, and young women, and boys, and +men--they were all huddled together--set up such a screaming. 'Munday!' +says I, 'you don't go to the Tombs--here! I've got good news for you.' +This quieted her some, and then I picked her up--she was nearly +naked--and seeing she wanted scrubbing up, carried her out of the Hole, +and made her follow me to my house, where we got her into some clothes, +and seeing that she was got right in her mind, I thought it would be a +good time to question her." + +"If you will hasten the result of your search, it will, my good sir, +relieve my feelings much!" again interposes the lady, drawing her chair +nearer the detective. + +"'You've had.' I says to her, 'a hard enough time in this world, and now +here's the man what's going to be a friend to ye--understand that!' says +I, and she looked at me bewildered. We gave her something to eat, and a +pledge that no one would harm her, and she tamed down, and began to look +up a bit. 'Your name wasn't always Munday?' says I, in a way that she +couldn't tell what I was after. She said she had taken several names, +but Munday was her right name. Then she corrected herself--she was weak +and hoarse--and said it was her husband's name. 'You've a good memory, +Mrs. Munday,' says I; 'now, just think as far back as you can, and tell +us where you lived as long back as you can think.' She shook her head, +and began to bury her face in her hands I tried for several minutes, but +could get nothing more out of her. Then she quickened up, shrieked out +that she had just got out of the devil's regions, and made a rush for +the door." + + + + +CHAPTER XLIII. + +IN WHICH IS REVEALED THE ONE ERROR THAT BROUGHT SO MUCH SUFFERING UPON +MANY. + + +Mr. Fitzgerald sees that his last remark is having no very good effect +on Madame Montford, and hastens to qualify, ere it overcome her. "That, +I may say, Madame, was not the last of her. My wife and me, seeing how +her mind was going wrong again, got her in bed for the night, and took +what care of her we could. Well, you see, she got rational in the +morning, and, thinking it a chance, I 'plied a heap of kindness to her, +and got her to tell all she knew of herself. She went on to tell where +she lived--I followed your directions in questioning her--at the time +you noted down. She described the house exactly. I have been to it +to-night; knew it at a sight, from her description. Some few practical +questions I put to her about the child you wanted to get at, I found +frightened her so that she kept shut--for fear, I take it, that it was a +crime she may be punished for at some time. I says, 'You was trusted +with a child once, wasn't you?' 'The Lord forgive me,' she says, 'I know +I'm guilty--but I've been punished enough in this world haven't I?' And +she burst out into tears, and hung down her head, and got into the +corner, as if wantin' nobody to see her. She only wanted a little good +care, and a little kindness, to bring her to. This we did as well as we +could, and made her understand that no one thought of punishing her, but +wanted to be her friends. Well, the poor wretch began to pick up, as I +said before, and in three days was such another woman that nobody could +have told that she was the poor crazy thing that ran about the lanes and +alleys of the Points. And now, Madame, doing as you bid me, I thought it +more practical to come to you, knowing you could get of her all you +wanted. She is made comfortable. Perhaps you wouldn't like to have her +brought here--I may say I don't think it would be good policy. If you +would condescend to come to our house, you can see her alone. I hope you +are satisfied with my services." The detective pauses, and again wipes +his face. + +"My gratitude for your perseverance I can never fully express to you. I +owe you a debt I never can repay. To-morrow, at ten o'clock, I will meet +you at your house; and then, if you can leave me alone with her--" + +"Certainly, certainly, everything will be at your service, Madame," +returns the detective, rising from his seat and thanking the lady, who +rewards him bountifully from her purse, and bids him good night. The +servant escorts him to the door, while Madame Montford buries her face +in her hands, and gives vent to her emotions. + +On the morning following, a neatly-caparisoned carriage is seen driving +to the door of a little brick house in Crosby street. From it Madame +Montford alights, and passes in at the front door, while in another +minute it rolls away up the street and is lost to sight. A few moments' +consultation, and the detective, who has ushered the lady into his +humbly-furnished little parlor, withdraws to give place to the pale and +emaciated figure of the woman Munday, who advances with faltering step +and downcast countenance. "Oh! forgive me, forgive me! have mercy upon +me! forgive me this crime!" she shrieks. Suddenly she raises her eyes, +and rushing forward throws herself at Madame Montford's feet, in an +imploring attitude. Dark and varied fancies crowd confusedly on Madame +Montford's mind at this moment. + +"Nay, nay, my poor sufferer, rather I might ask forgiveness of you." She +takes the woman by the hand, and, with an air of regained calmness, +raises her from the floor. With her, the outer life seems preparing the +inner for what is to come. "But I have long sought you--sought you in +obedience to the demands of my conscience, which I would the world gave +me power to purify; and now I have found you, and with you some rest for +my aching heart. Come, sit down; forget what you have suffered; tell me +what befell you, and what has become of the child; tell me all, and +remember that I will provide for you a comfortable home for the rest of +your life." Madame motions her to a chair, struggling the while to +suppress her own feelings. + +"I loved the child you intrusted to my care; yes, God knows I loved it, +and watched over it for two years, as carefully as a mother. But I was +poor, and the brother, in whose hands you intrusted the amount for its +support (this, the reader must here know, was not a brother, but the +paramour of Madame Montford), failed, and gave me nothing after the +first six months. I never saw him, and when I found you had gone +abroad--" The woman hesitates, and, with weeping eyes and trembling +voice, again implores forgiveness. "My husband gave himself up to +drink, lost his situation, and then he got to hating the child, and +abusing me for taking it, and embarrassing our scanty means of living. +Night and day, I was harassed and abused, despised and neglected. I was +discouraged, and gave up in despair. I clung to the child as long as I +could. I struggled, and struggled, and struggled--" Here the woman +pauses, and with a submissive look, again hangs down her head and sobs. + +"Be calm, be calm," says Madame Montford, drawing nearer to her, and +making an effort to inspirit her. "Throw off all your fears, forget what +you have suffered, for I, too, have suffered. And you parted with the +child?" + +"Necessity forced me," pursues the woman, shaking her head. "I saw only +the street before me on one side, and felt only the cold pinchings of +poverty on the other. You had gone abroad--" + +"It was my intention to have adopted the child as my own when I +returned," interrupts Madame Montford, still clinging to that flattering +hope in which the criminal sees a chance of escape. + +"And I," resumes the woman, "left the husband who neglected me, and who +treated me cruelly, and gave myself,--perhaps I was to blame for it,--up +to one who befriended me. He was the only one who seemed to care for me, +or to have any sympathy for me. But he, like myself, was poor; and, +being compelled to flee from our home, and to live in obscurity, where +my husband could not find me out, the child was an incumbrance I had no +means of supporting. I parted with her--yes, yes, I parted with her to +Mother Bridges, who kept a stand at a corner in West street--" + +"And then what became of her?" again interposes Madame Montford. The +woman assumes a sullenness, and it is some time before she can be got to +proceed. + +"My conscience rebuked me," she resumes, as if indifferent about +answering the question, "for I loved the child as my own; and the friend +I lived with, and who followed the sea, printed on its right arm two +hearts and a broken anchor, which remain there now. My husband died of +the cholera, and the friend I had taken to, and who treated me kindly, +also died, and I soon found myself an abandoned woman, an outcast--yes, +ruined forever, and in the streets, leading a life that my own feelings +revolted at, but from which starvation only seemed the alternative. My +conscience rebuked me again and again, and something--I cannot tell what +it was--impelled me with an irresistible force to watch over the +fortunes of the child I knew must come to the same degraded life +necessity--perhaps it was my own false step--had forced upon me. I +watched her a child running neglected about the streets, then I saw her +sold to Hag Zogbaum, who lived in Pell street; I never lost sight of +her--no, I never lost sight of her, but fear of criminating myself kept +me from making myself known to her. When I had got old in vice, and +years had gone past, and she was on the first step to the vice she had +been educated to, we shared the same roof. Then she was known as Anna +Bonard--" + +"Anna Bonard!" exclaims Madame Montford. "Then truly it is she who now +lives in Charleston! There is no longer a doubt. I may seek and claim +her, and return her to at least a life of comfort." + +"There you will find her. Ah, many times have I looked upon her, and +thought if I could only save her, how happy I could die. I shared the +same roof with her in Charleston, and when I got sick she was kind to +me, and watched over me, and was full of gentleness, and wept over her +condition. She has sighed many a time, and said how she wished she knew +how she came into the world, to be forced to live despised by the world. +But I got down, down, down, from one step to another, one step to +another, as I had gone up from one step to another in the splendor of +vice, until I found myself, tortured in mind and body, a poor neglected +wretch in the Charleston Poor-house. In it I was treated worse than a +slave, left, sick and heart-broken, and uncared-for, to the preying of a +fever that destroyed my mind. And as if that were not enough, I was +carried into the dungeons--the 'mad cells,'--and chained. And this +struck such a feeling of terror into my soul that my reason, as they +said, was gone forever. But I got word to Anna, and she came to me, and +gave me clothes and many little things to comfort me, and got me out, +and gave me money to get back to New York, where I have been ever since, +haunted from place to place, with scarce a place to lay my head. Surely +I have suffered. Shall I be forgiven?" Her voice here falters, she +becomes weak, and seems sinking under the burden of her emotions. +"If,--if--if," she mutters, incoherently, "you can save me, and forgive +me, you will have the prayers of one who has drank deep of the bitter +cup." She looks up with a sad, melancholy countenance, again implores +forgiveness, and bursts into loud sobs. + +"Mine is the guilty part--it is me who needs forgiveness!" speaks Madame +Montford, pressing the hand of the forlorn woman, as the tears stream +down her cheeks. She has unburdened her emotions, but such is the +irresistible power of a guilty conscience that she finds her crushed +heart and smitten frame sinking under the shock--that she feels the very +fever of remorse mounting to her brain. + +"Be calm, be calm--for you have suffered, wandered through the dark +abyss--truly you have been chastened enough in this world. But while +your heart is only bruised and sore, mine is stung deep and lacerated. +The image of that child now rises up before me. I see her looking back +over her chequered life, and pining to know her birthright. Mine is the +task of seeking her out, reconciling her, saving her from this life of +shame. I must sacrifice the secrets of my own heart, go boldly in +pursuit of her--" She pauses a moment. There is yet a thin veil between +her and society. Society only founds its suspicions upon the mystery +involved in the separation from her husband, and the doubtful character +of her long residence in Europe. Society knows nothing of the birth of +the child. The scandal leveled at her in Charleston, was only the result +of her own indiscretion. "Yes," she whispers, attempting at the same +time to soothe the feelings of the poor disconsolate woman, "I must go, +and go quickly--I must drag her from the terrible life she is +leading;--but, ah! I must do it so as to shield myself. Yes, I must +shield myself!" And she puts into the woman's hand several pieces of +gold, saying: "take this!--to-morrow you will be better provided for. Be +silent. Speak to no one of what has passed between us, nor make the +acquaintance of any one outside the home I shall provide for you." Thus +saying, she recalls Mr. Detective Fitzgerald, rewards him with a nostrum +from her purse, and charges him to make the woman comfortable at her +expense. + +"Her mind, now I do believe," says the detective, with an approving +toss of the head, "her faculties'll come right again,--they only wants a +little care and kindness, mum." The detective thanks her again and +again, then puts the money methodically into his pocket. + +The carriage having returned, Madame Montford vaults into it as quickly +as she alighted, and is rolled away to her mansion. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIV. + +IN WHICH IS RECORDED EVENTS THE READER MAY NOT HAVE EXPECTED. + + +While the events we have recorded in the foregoing chapter, confused, +hurried, and curious, are being enacted in New York, let us once more +turn to Charleston. + +You must know that, notwithstanding our high state of civilization, we +yet maintain in practice two of the most loathsome relics of +barbarism--we lash helpless women, and we scourge, at the public +whipping-post, the bare backs of men. + +George Mullholland has twice been dragged to the whipping-post, twice +stripped before a crowd in the market-place, twice lashed, maddened to +desperation, and twice degraded in the eyes of the very negroes we teach +to yield entire submission to the white man, however humble his grade. +Hate, scorn, remorse--every dark passion his nature can summon--rises up +in one torturing tempest, and fills his bosom with a mad longing for +revenge. "Death!" he says, while looking out from his cell upon the +bright landscape without, "what is death to me? The burnings of an +outraged soul subdue the thought of death." + +The woman through whom this dread finale was brought upon him, and who +now repines, unable to shake off the smarts old associations crowd upon +her heart, has a second and third time crept noiselessly to his cell, +and sought in vain his forgiveness. Yea, she has opened the door gently, +but drew back in terror before his dark frown, his sardonic scorn, his +frenzied rush at her. Had he not loved her fondly, his hate had not +taken such deep root in his bosom. + +Two or three days pass, he has armed himself "to the death," and is +resolved to make his escape, and seek revenge of his enemies. It is +evening. Dark festoons of clouds hang over the city, lambent lightning +plays along the heavens in the south. Now it flashes across the city, +the dull panorama lights up, the tall, gaunt steeples gleam out, and the +surface of the Bay flashes out in a phosphoric blaze. Patiently and +diligently has he filed, and filed, and filed, until he has removed the +bar that will give egress to his body. The window of his cell overlooks +the ditch, beyond which is the prison wall. Noiselessly he arranges the +rope, for he is in the third story, then paces his cell, silent and +thoughtful. "Must it be?" he questions within himself, "must I stain +these hands with the blood of the woman I love? Revenge, revenge--I will +have revenge. I will destroy both of them, for to-morrow I am to be +dragged a third time to the whipping-post." Now he casts a glance round +the dark cell, now he pauses at the window, now the lightning courses +along the high wall, then reflects back the deep ditch. Another moment, +and he has commenced his descent. Down, down, down, he lowers himself. +Now he holds on tenaciously, the lightning reflects his dangling figure, +a prisoner in a lower cell gives the alarm, he hears the watchword of +his discovery pass from cell to cell, the clashing of the keeper's door +grates upon his ear like thunder--he has reached the end of his rope, +and yet hangs suspended in the air. A heavy fall is heard, he has +reached the ditch, bounds up its side to the wall, seizes a pole, and +places against it, and, with one vault, is over into the open street. +Not a moment is to be lost. Uproar and confusion reigns throughout the +prison, his keepers have taken the alarm, and will soon be on his track, +pursuing him with ferocious hounds. Burning for revenge, and yet +bewildered, he sets off at full speed, through back lanes, over fields, +passing in his course the astonished guardmen. He looks neither to the +right nor the left, but speeds on toward the grove. Now he reaches the +bridge that crosses the millpond, pauses for breath, then proceeds on. +Suddenly a light from the villa Anna occupies flashes out. He has +crossed the bridge, bounds over the little hedge-grown avenue, through +the garden, and in another minute stands before her, a pistol pointed at +her breast, and all the terrible passions of an enraged fiend darkening +his countenance. Her implorings for mercy bring an old servant rushing +into the room, the report of a pistol rings out upon the still air, +shriek after shriek follows, mingled with piercing moans, and +death-struggles. "Ha, ha!" says the avenger, looking on with a sardonic +smile upon his face, and a curl of hate upon his lip, "I have taken the +life to which I gave my own--yes, I have taken it--I have taken it!" And +she writhes her body, and sets her eyes fixedly upon him, as he hastens +out of the room. + +"Quick! quick!" he says to himself. "There, then! I am pursued!" He +recrosses the millpond over another bridge, and in his confusion turns a +short angle into a lane leading to the city. The yelping of dogs, the +deep, dull tramp of hoofs, the echoing of voices, the ominous baying +and scenting of blood-hounds--all break upon his ear in one terrible +chaos. Not a moment is to be lost. The sight at the villa will attract +the attention of his pursuers, and give him time to make a distance! The +thought of what he has done, and the terrible death that awaits him, +crowds upon his mind, and rises up before him like a fierce monster of +retribution. He rushes at full speed down the lane, vaults across a +field into the main road, only to find his pursuers close upon him. The +patrol along the streets have caught the alarm, which he finds spreading +with lightning-speed. The clank of side-arms, the scenting and baying of +the hounds, coming louder and louder, nearer and nearer, warns him of +the approaching danger. A gate at the head of a wharf stands open, the +hounds are fast gaining upon him, a few jumps more and they will have +him fast in their ferocious grasp. He rushes through the gate, down the +wharf, the tumultuous cry of his pursuers striking terror into his very +heart. Another instant and the hounds are at his feet, he stands on the +capsill at the end, gives one wild, despairing look into the abyss +beneath--"I die revenged," he shouts, discharges a pistol into his +breast, and with one wild plunge, is buried forever in the water +beneath. The dark stream of an unhappy life has run out. Upon whom does +the responsibility of this terrible closing rest? In the words of +Thomson, the avenger left behind him only "Gaunt Beggary, and Scorn, +with many hell-hounds more." + +When the gray dawn of morning streamed in through the windows of the +little villa, and upon the parlor table, that had so often been adorned +with caskets and fresh-plucked flowers, there, in their stead, lay the +lifeless form of the unhappy Anna, her features pale as marble, but +beautiful even in death. There, rolled in a mystic shroud, calm as a +sleeper in repose, she lay, watched over by two faithful slaves. + +The Judge and Mr. Snivel have found it convenient to make a trip of +pleasure into the country. And though the affair creates some little +comment in fashionable society, it would be exceedingly unpopular to pry +too deeply into the private affairs of men high in office. We are not +encumbered with scrutinizing morality. Being an "unfortunate woman," the +law cannot condescend to deal with her case. Indeed, were it brought +before a judge, and the judge to find himself sitting in judgment upon a +judge, his feelings would find some means of defrauding his judgment, +while society would carefully close the shutter of its sanctity. + +At high noon there comes a man of the name of Moon, commonly called Mr. +Moon, the good-natured Coroner. In truth, a better-humored man than Mr. +Moon cannot be found; and what is more, he has the happiest way in the +world of disposing of such cases, and getting verdicts of his jury +exactly suited to circumstances. Mr. Moon never proceeds to business +without regaling his jury with good brandy and high-flavored cigars. In +this instance he has bustled about and got together six very solemn and +seriously-disposed gentlemen, who proceed to deliberate. "A mystery +hangs over the case," says one. A second shakes his head, and views the +body as if anxious to get away. A third says, reprovingly, that "such +cases are coming too frequent." Mr. Moon explains the attendant +circumstances, and puts a changed face on the whole affair. One juryman +chalks, and another juryman chalks, and Mr. Moon says, by way of +bringing the matter to a settled point, "It is a bad ending to a +wretched life." A solemn stillness ensues, and then follows the verdict. +The body being identified as that of one Anna Bonard, a woman celebrated +for her beauty, but of notorious reputation, the jury are of opinion +(having duly weighed the circumstances) that she came to her melancholy +death by the hands of one George Mullholland, who was prompted to commit +the act for some cause to the jury unknown. And the jury, in passing the +case over to the authorities, recommend that the said Mullholland be +brought to justice. This done, Mr. Moon orders her burial, and the jury +hasten home, fully confident of having performed their duty unswerved. + +When night came, when all was hushed without, and the silence within was +broken only by the cricket's chirp, when the lone watcher, the faithful +old slave, sat beside the cold, shrouded figure, when the dim light of +the chamber of death seemed mingling with the shadows of departed souls, +there appeared in the room, like a vision, the tall figure of a female, +wrapped in a dark mantle. Slowly and noiselessly she stole to the side +of the deceased, stood motionless and statue-like for several minutes, +her eyes fixed in mute contemplation on the face of the corpse. The +watcher looked and started back, still the figure remained motionless. +Raising her right hand to her chin, pensively, she lifted her eyes +heavenward, and in that silent appeal, in those dewy tears that +glistened in her great orbs, in those words that seemed freezing to her +quivering lips, the fierce struggle waging in that bosom was told. She +heard the words, "You cannot redeem me now!" knelling in her ears, her +thoughts flashed back over years of remorse, to the day of her error, +and she saw rising up as it were before her, like a spectre from the +tomb, seeking retribution, the image of the child she had sacrificed to +her vanity. She pressed and pressed the cold hand, so delicate, so like +her own; she unbared the round, snowy arm, and there beheld the +imprinted hearts, and the broken anchor! Her pent-up grief then burst +its bounds, the tears rolled down her cheeks, her lips quivered, her +hand trembled, and her very blood seemed as ice in her veins. She cast a +hurried glance round the room, a calm and serene smile seemed lighting +up the features of the lifeless woman, and she bent over her, and kissed +and kissed her cold, marble-like brow, and bathed it with her burning +tears. It was a last sad offering; and having bestowed it, she turned +slowly away, and disappeared. It was Madame Montford, who came a day too +late to save the storm-tossed girl, but returned to think of the +hereafter of her own soul. + + + + +CHAPTER XLV. + +ANOTHER SHADE OF THE PICTURE. + + +While the earth of Potter's Field is closing over all that remains of +Anna Bonard, Maria McArthur may be seen, snatching a moment of rest, as +it were, seated under the shade of a tree on the Battery, musing, as is +her wont. The ships sail by cheerily, there is a touching beauty about +the landscape before her, all nature seems glad. Even the heavens smile +serenely; and a genial warmth breathes through the soft air. "Truly the +Allwise," she says within herself, "will be my protector, and is +chastising me while consecrating something to my good. Mr. Keepum has +made my father's release the condition of my ruin. But he is but flesh +and blood, and I--no, I am not yet a slave! The virtue of the poor, +truly, doth hang by tender threads; but I am resolved to die struggling +to preserve it." And a light, as of some future joy, rises up in her +fancy, and gives her new strength. + +The German family have removed from the house in which she occupies a +room, and in its place are come two women of doubtful character. Still, +necessity compels her to remain in it; for though it is a means resorted +to by Keepum to effect his purpose, she cannot remove without being +followed, and harassed by him. Strong in the consciousness of her own +purity, and doubly incensed at the proof of what extremes the designer +will condescend to, she nerves herself for the struggle she sees before +her. True, she was under the same roof with them; she was subjected to +many inconveniencies by their presence; but not all their flattering +inducements could change her resolution. Nevertheless, the resolution of +a helpless female does not protect her from the insults of heartless +men. She returns home to find that Mother Rumor, with her thousand +tongues, is circulating all kinds of evil reports about her. It is even +asserted that she has become an abandoned woman, and is the occupant of +a house of doubtful repute. And this, instead of enlisting the +sympathies of some kind heart, rather increases the prejudice and +coldness of those upon whom she has depended for work. It is seldom the +story of suffering innocence finds listeners. The sufferer is too +frequently required to qualify in crime, before she becomes an object of +sympathy. + +She returns, one day, some work just finished for one of our high old +families, the lady of which makes it a boast that she is always engaged +in "laudable pursuits of a humane kind." The lady sends her servant to +the door with the pittance due, and begs to say she is sorry to hear of +the life Miss McArthur is leading, and requests she will not show +herself at the house again. Mortified in her feelings, Maria begs an +interview; but the servant soon returns an answer that her Missus cannot +descend to anything of the kind. Our high old families despise working +people, and wall themselves up against the poor, whose virtue they +regard as an exceedingly cheap commodity. Our high old families choose +rather to charge guilt, and deny the right to prove innocence. + +With the four shillings, Maria, weeping, turns from the door, procures +some bread and coffee, and wends her way to the old prison. But the +chords of her resolution are shaken, the cold repulse has gone like +poison to her heart. The ray of joy that was lighting up her future, +seems passing away; whilst fainter and fainter comes the hope of once +more greeting her lover. She sees vice pampered by the rich, and poor +virtue begging at their doors. She sees a price set upon her own ruin; +she sees men in high places waiting with eager passion the moment when +the thread of her resolution will give out. The cloud of her night does, +indeed, seem darkening again. + +But she gains the prison, and falters as she enters the cell where the +old Antiquary, his brow furrowed deep of age, sleeps calmly upon his +cot. Near his hand, which he has raised over his head, lays a letter, +with the envelope broken. Maria's quick eye flashes over the +superscription, and recognizes in it the hand of Tom Swiggs. A transport +of joy fills her bosom with emotions she has no power to constrain. She +trembles from head to foot; fancies mingled with joys and fears crowd +rapidly upon her thoughts. She grasps it with feelings frantic of joy, +and holds it in her shaking hand; the shock has nigh overcome her. The +hope in which she has so long found comfort and strength--that has so +long buoyed her up, and carried her safely through trials, has truly +been her beacon light. "Truly," she says within herself, "the dawn of my +morning is brightening now." She opens the envelope, and finds a letter +enclosed to her. "Oh! yes, yes, yes! it is him--it is from him!" she +stammers, in the exuberance of her wild joy. And now the words, "You +are richer than me," flash through her thoughts with revealed +significance. + +Maria grasps the old man's hand. He starts and wakes, as if unconscious +of his situation, then fixes his eyes upon her with a steady, vacant +gaze. Then, with childlike fervor, he presses her hand to his lips, and +kisses it. "It was a pleasant dream--ah! yes, I was dreaming all things +went so well!" Again a change comes over his countenance, and he glances +round the room, with a wild and confused look. "Am I yet in +prison?--well, it was only a dream. If death were like dreaming, I would +crave it to take me to its peace, that my mind might no longer be +harassed with the troubles of this life. Ah! there, there!"--(the old +man starts suddenly, as if a thought has flashed upon him)--"there is +the letter, and from poor Tom, too! I only broke the envelope. I have +not opened it." + +"It is safe, father; I have it," resumes Maria, holding it before him, +unopened, as the words tremble upon her lips. One moment she fears it +may convey bad news, and in the next she is overjoyed with the hope that +it brings tidings of the safety and return of him for whose welfare she +breathed many a prayer. Pale and agitated, she hesitates a moment, then +proceeds to open it. + +"Father, father! heaven has shielded me--heaven has shielded me! Ha! ha! +ha! yes, yes, yes! He is safe! he is safe!" And she breaks out into one +wild exclamation of joy, presses the letter to her lips, and kisses it, +and moistens it with her tears, "It was all a plot--a dark plot set for +my ruin!" she mutters, and sinks back, overcome with her emotions. The +old man fondles her to his bosom, his white beard flowing over her +suffused cheeks, and his tears mingling with hers. And here she +remains, until the anguish of her joy runs out, and her mind resumes its +wonted calm. + +Having broken the spell, she reads the letter to the enraptured old man. +Tom has arrived in New York; explains the cause of his long absence; +speaks of several letters he has transmitted by post, (which she never +received;) and his readiness to proceed to Charleston, by steamer, in a +few days. His letter is warm with love and constancy; he recurs to old +associations; he recounts his remembrance of the many kindnesses he +received at the hands of her father, when homeless; of the care, to +which he owes his reform, bestowed upon him by herself, and his burning +anxiety to clasp her to his bosom. + +A second thought flashes upon her fevered brain. Am I not the subject of +slander! Am I not contaminated by associations? Has not society sought +to clothe me with shame? Truth bends before falsehood, and virtue +withers under the rust of slandering tongues. Again a storm rises up +before her, and she feels the poisoned arrow piercing deep into her +heart. Am I not living under the very roof that will confirm the +slanders of mine enemies? she asks herself. And the answer rings back in +confirmation upon her too sensitive ears, and fastens itself in her +feelings like a reptile with deadly fangs. No; she is not yet free from +her enemies. They have the power of falsifying her to her lover. The +thought fills her bosom with sad emotions. Strong in the consciousness +of her virtue, she feels how weak she is in the walks of the worldly. +Her persecutors are guilty, but being all-powerful may seek in still +further damaging her character, a means of shielding themselves from +merited retribution. It is the natural expedient of bad men in power to +fasten crime upon the weak they have injured. + +Only a few days have to elapse, then, and Maria will be face to face +with him in whom her fondest hopes have found refuge: but even in those +few days it will be our duty to show how much injury may be inflicted +upon the weak by the powerful. + +The old Antiquary observes the change that has come so suddenly over +Maria's feelings, but his entreaties fail to elicit the cause. Shall she +return to the house made doubtful by its frail occupants; or shall she +crave the jailer's permission to let her remain and share her father's +cell? Ah! solicitude for her father settles the question. The +alternative may increase his apprehensions, and with them his +sufferings. Night comes on; she kisses him, bids him a fond adieu, and +with an aching heart returns to the house that has brought so much +scandal upon her. + +On reaching the door she finds the house turned into a bivouac of +revelry; her own chamber is invaded, and young men and women are making +night jubilant over Champagne and cigars. Mr. Keepum and the Hon. Mr. +Snivel are prominent among the carousers; and both are hectic of +dissipation. Shall she flee back to the prison? Shall she go cast +herself at the mercy of the keeper? As she is about following the +thought with the act, she is seized rudely by the arms, dragged into the +scene of carousal, and made the object of coarse jokes. One insists that +she must come forward and drink; another holds an effervescing glass to +her lips; a third says he regards her modesty out of place, and demands +that she drown it with mellowing drinks. The almost helpless girl +shrieks, and struggles to free herself from the grasp of her enemies. +Mr. Snivel, thinking it highly improper that such cries go free, +catches her in his arms, and places his hand over her mouth. "Caught +among queer birds at last," he says, throwing an insidious wink at +Keepum. "Will flock together, eh?" + +As if suddenly invested with herculean strength, Maria hurls the ruffian +from her, and lays him prostrate on the floor. In his fall the table is +overset, and bottles, decanters and sundry cut glass accompaniments, are +spread in a confused mass on the floor. Suddenly Mr. Keepum extinguishes +the lights. This is the signal for a scene of uproar and confusion we +leave the reader to picture in his imagination. The cry of "murder" is +followed quickly by the cry of "watch, watch!" and when the guardmen +appear, which they are not long in doing, it is seen that the very +chivalric gentlemen have taken themselves off--left, as a prey for the +guard, only Maria and three frail females. + +Cries, entreaties, and explanations, are all useless with such men as +our guard is composed of. Her clothes are torn, and she is found rioting +in disreputable company. The sergeant of the guard says, "Being thus +disagreeably caught, she must abide the penalty. It may teach you how to +model your morals," he adds; and straightway, at midnight, she is +dragged to the guard-house, and in spite of her entreaties, locked up in +a cell with the outcast women. "Will you not hear me? will you not allow +an innocent woman to speak in her own behalf? Do, I beg, I beseech, I +implore you--listen but for a minute--render me justice, and save me +from this last step of shame and disgrace," she appeals to the sergeant, +as the cell door closes upon her. + +Mr. Sergeant Stubble, for such is his name, shakes his head in doubt. +"Always just so," he says, with a shrug of the shoulders: "every one's +innocent what comes here 'specially women of your sort. The worst +rioters 'come the greatest sentimentalists, and repents most when they +gets locked up--does! You'll find it a righteous place for reflection, +in there." Mr. Sergeant Stubble shuts the door, and smothers her cries. + + + + +CHAPTER XLVI. + +GAINING STRENGTH FROM PERSECUTION. + + +You know it is Bulwer who says, and says truly: "There is in calumny a +rank poison that, even when the character throws off the slander, the +heart remains diseased beneath the effect." The force of this on Maria's +thoughts and feelings, surrounded as she was by the vile influences of a +Charleston cell, came with strange effect as she contemplated her +friendless condition. There is one witness who can bear testimony to her +innocence, and in Him she still puts her trust. But the charitable have +closed their ears to her; and the outside world is too busy to listen to +her story. Those words of the poor woman who said, "You are still richer +than me," again ring their sweet music in her ear, and give strength to +her weary soul. They come to her like the voice of a merciful +Providence, speaking through the hushed air of midnight, and breathing +the sweet spirit of love into the dusky figures who tenant that dreary +cell. To Maria it is the last spark of hope, that rarely goes out in +woman's heart, and has come to tell her that to-morrow her star may +brighten. And now, reader, turn with us to another scene of hope and +anxiety. + +The steamer which bears Tom to Charleston is off Cape Romaine. He has +already heard of the fate of the old man McArthur. But, he asks himself, +may not truth and justice yet triumph? He paces and repaces the deck, +now gazing vacantly in the direction the ship is steering, then walking +to the stern and watching the long train of phosphoric light playing on +the toppling waves. + +There was something evasive in the manner of the man who communicated to +him the intelligence concerning McArthur. "May I ask another question of +you, sir?" he inquires, approaching the man who, like himself, sauntered +restlessly along the deck. + +The man hesitates, lights a fresh cigar. "You desire me to be frank with +you, of course," rejoins the man. "But I observe you are agitated. I +will answer your question, if it carry no personal wound. Speak, my +friend." + +"You know Maria?" + +"Well." + +"You know what has become of her, or where she resides?" + +Again the man hesitates--then says, "These are delicate matters to +discover." + +"You are not responsible for my feelings," interrupts the impatient man. + +"If, then, I must be plain,--she is leading the life of an outcast. Yes, +sir, the story is that she has fallen, and from necessity. I will say +this, though," he adds, by way of relief, "that I know nothing of it +myself." The words fall like a death-knell on his thoughts and feelings. +He stammers out a few words, but his tongue refuses to give utterance to +his thoughts. His whole nature seems changed; his emotions have filled +the cup of his sorrow; an abyss, deep, dark, and terrible, has opened to +his excited imagination. All the dark scenes of his life, all the +struggles he has had to gain his manliness, rise up before him like a +gloomy panorama, and pointing him back to that goal of dissipation in +which his mind had once found relief. He seeks his stateroom in +silence, and there invokes the aid of Him who never refuses to protect +the right. And here again we must return to another scene. + +Morning has come, the guard-roll has been called, and Judge Sleepyhorn +is about to hold high court. Maria and the companions of her cell are +arraigned, some black, others white, all before so august a judge. His +eye rests on a pale and dejected woman inwardly resolved to meet her +fate, calm and resolute. It is to her the last struggle of an eventful +life, and she is resolved to meet it with womanly fortitude. + +The Judge takes his seat, looks very grave, and condescends to say there +is a big docket to be disposed of this morning. "Crime seems to increase +in the city," he says, bowing to Mr. Seargent Stubbs. + +"If your Honor will look at that," Mr. Stubbs says, smiling,--"most on +em's bin up afore. All hard cases, they is." + +"If yeer Onher plases, might a woman o' my standin' say a woord in her +own difince? Sure its only a woord, Judge, an beein a dacent gintleman +ye'd not refuse me the likes." + +"Silence, there!" ejaculates Mr. Seargent Stubbs; "you must keep quiet +in court." + +"Faith its not the likes o' you'd keep me aisy, Mr. Stubbs. Do yee see +that now?" returns the woman, menacingly. She is a turbulent daughter of +the Emerald Isle, full five feet nine inches, of broad bare feet, with a +very black eye, and much in want of raiment. + +"The most corrigible case what comes to this court," says Mr. Stubbs, +bowing knowingly to the judge. "Rather likes a prison, yer Honor. Bin up +nine times a month. A dear customer to the state." + +The Judge, looking grave, and casting his eye learnedly over the pages +of a ponderous statute book, inquires of Mr. Seargent Stubbs what the +charge is. + +"Disturbed the hole neighborhood. A fight atween the Donahues, yer +Honor." + +"Dorn't believe a woord of it, yeer Onher. Sure, din't Donahue black the +eye o' me, and sphil the whisky too? Bad luck to Donahue, says I. You +don't say that to me, says he. I'd say it to the divil, says I. Take +that! says Donahue." Here Mrs. Donahue points to her eye, and brings +down even the dignity of the court. + +"In order to preserve peace between you and Donahue," says his Honor, +good naturedly, "I shall fine you ten dollars, or twenty days." + +"Let it go at twenty days," replies Mrs. Donahue, complimenting his +Honor's high character, "fir a divil o' ten dollars have I." And Mrs. +Donahue resigns herself to the tender mercies of Mr. Seargent Stubbs, +who removes her out of court. + +A dozen or more delinquent negroes, for being out after hours without +passes, are sentenced thirty stripes apiece, and removed, to the evident +delight of the Court, who is resolved that the majesty of the law shall +be maintained. + +It is Maria's turn now. Pale and trembling she approaches the circular +railing, assisted by Mr. Seargent Stubbs. She first looks imploringly at +the judge, then hangs down her head, and covers her face with her hands. + +"What is the charge?" inquires the Judge, turning to the loquacious +Stubbs. Mr. Stubbs says: "Disorderly conduct--and in a house of bad +repute." + +"I am innocent--I have committed no crime," interrupts the injured +woman. "You have dragged me here to shame me." Suddenly her face +becomes pale as marble, her limbs tremble, and the court is thrown into +a state of confusion by her falling to the floor in a swoon. + +"Its all over with her now," says Mr. Stubbs, standing back in fear. + +Crime has not dried up all the kinder impulses of Judge Sleepyhorn's +heart. Leaving the bench he comes quickly to the relief of the +unfortunate girl, holds her cold trembling hand in his own, and tenderly +bathes her temples. "Sorry the poor girl," he says, sympathizingly, +"should have got down so. Knew her poor old father when he was +comfortably off, and all Charleston liked him." His Honor adjourns +court, and ten minutes pass before the sufferer is restored to +consciousness. Then with a wild despairing look she scans those around +her, rests her head on her hand despondingly, and gives vent to her +tears. The cup of her sorrow has indeed overrun. + +"It was wrong to arrest you, young woman, and I sympathize with you. No +charge has been preferred, and so you are free. A carriage waits at the +door, and I have ordered you to be driven home," says the judge, +relaxing into sympathy. + +"I have no home now," she returns, the tears coursing down her wet +cheeks. "Slaves have homes, but I have none now." + +"When you want a friend, you'll find a friend in me. Keep up your +spirits, and remember that virtue is its own reward." Having said this, +the Judge raises her gently to her feet, supports her to the carriage, +and sees her comfortably seated. "Remember, you know, where to find a +friend if you want one," he says, and bids her good-morning. In another +minute the carriage is rolling her back to the home from whence she was +taken. She has no better home now. + + + + +CHAPTER XLVII. + +AN EXCITEMENT. + + +A bright fire burned that night in Keepum's best parlor, furnished with +all the luxuries modern taste could invent. Keepum, restless, paces the +carpet, contemplating his own importance, for he has just been made a +Major of Militia, and we have a rare love for the feather. Now he pauses +at a window and looks impatiently out, then frisks his fingers through +his crispy hair and resumes his pacing. He expects some one, whose +coming he awaits with evident anxiety. "The time is already up," he +says, drawing his watch from his pocket. The door-bell rings just then, +his countenance brightens, and a servant ushers Mr. Snivel in. "The time +is already up, my good fellow," says Keepum, extending his hand +familiarly,--Mr. Snivel saying, "I've so many demands on my time, you +know. We're in good time, you know. Must bring the thing to a head +to-night." A short conversation carried on in whispers, and they sally +out, and soon disappear down Broad street. + +Just rounding the frowning walls of fort Sumter, a fort the restless +people never had any particular love for, is a big red light of the +steamer cutting through the sea like a monster of smoke and flame, on +her way up the harbor. Another hour, and she will be safely moored at +her landing. Tom stands on the upper deck, looking intently towards the +city, his anxiety increasing as the ship approaches the end of her +voyage, and his eager eye catching each familiar object only to remind +him more forceably of the time when he seemed on the downward road of +life. Hope had already begun to dispel his fears, and the belief that +what the man had told him was founded only in slander, became stronger +the more he pondered over it. + +St. Michael's clock has just struck ten, and the mounted guard are +distributing into their different beats. Maria, contemplating what may +come to-morrow, sits at the window of her lonely chamber like one whom +the world had forgotten. The dull vibrating sound of the clock still +murmurs on the air as she is startled from her reverie by the sound of +voices under the window. She feels her very soul desponding. It does +indeed seem as if that moment has come when nature in her last struggle +with hope must yield up the treasure of woman's life, and sink into a +life of remorse and shame. The talking becomes more distinct; then there +is a pause, succeeded by Keepum and Snivel silently entering her room, +the one drawing a chair by her side, the other taking a seat near the +door. "Come as friends, you know," says Keepum, exchanging glances with +Snivel, then fixing his eyes wickedly on the woman. "Don't seem to enjoy +our company, eh? Poor folks is got to puttin' on airs right big, +now-a-days. Don't 'mount to much, anyhow; ain't much better than +niggers, only can't sell 'em." "Poor folks must keep up appearances, +eh," interposes Mr. Snivel. They are waiting an opportunity for seizing +and overpowering the unprotected girl. We put our chivalry to strange +uses at times. + +But the steamer has reached her wharf; the roaring of her escaping steam +disturbs the city, and reechoes far away down the bay. Again familiar +scenes open to the impatient man's view; old friends pass and repass him +unrecognized; but only one thought impels him, and that is fixed on +Maria. He springs ashore, dashes through the crowd of spectators, and +hurries on, scarcely knowing which way he is going. + +At length he pauses on the corner of King and Market streets, and +glances up to read the name by the glare of gas-light. An old negro +wends his way homeward. "Daddy," says he, "how long have you lived in +Charleston?" + +"Never was out on em, Mas'r," replies the negro, looking inquisitively +into the anxious man's face. "Why, lor's me, if dis are bin't Mas'r Tom, +what used t' be dis old nigger's young Mas'r." + +"Is it you, Uncle Cato?" Their recognition was warm, hearty, and true. +"God bless you, my boy; I've need of your services now," says Tom, still +holding the hard hand of the old negro firmly grasped in his own, and +discovering the object of his mission. + +"Jus' tote a'ter old Cato, Mas'r Tom. Maria's down da, at Undine's +cabin, yander. Ain't no better gal libin dan Miss Maria," replies Cato, +enlarging on Maria's virtues. There is no time to be lost. They hurry +forward, Tom following the old negro, and turning into a narrow lane to +the right, leading to Undine's cabin. But here they are doomed to +disappointment. They reach Undine's cabin, but Maria is not there. +Undine comes to the door, and points away down the lane, in the +direction of a bright light. "You will find her dare" says Undine; "and +if she ain't dare, I don' know where she be." They thank her, repay her +with a piece of silver, and hurry away in the direction of the light, +which seems to burn dimmer and dimmer as they approach. It suddenly +disappears, and, having reached the house, a rickety wooden tenement, a +cry of "Save me, save me! Heaven save me!" rings out on the still air, +and falls on the ear of the already excited man, like a solemn warning. + +"Up dar! Mas'r Tom, up dar!" shouts Cato, pointing to a stairs leading +on the outside. Up Tom vaults, and recognizing Maria's voice, +supplicating for mercy, thunders at the door, which gives away before +his strength. "It is me, Maria! it is me!" he proclaims. "Who is this +that has dared to abuse or insult you?" and she runs and throws herself +into his arms. "A light! a light, bring a light, Cato!" he demands, and +the old negro hastens to obey. + +In the confusion of the movement, Keepum reaches the street in safety +and hastens to his home, leaving his companion to take care of himself. + +A pale gleam of light streams into the open door, discovering a tall +dusky figure moving noiselessly towards it. "Why, if here bin't Mas'r +Snivel!" ejaculates old Cato, who returns bearing a candle, the light of +which falls on the tall figure of Mr. Snivel. + +"What, villain! is it you who has brought all this distress upon a +friendless girl?"---- + +"Glad to see you back, Tom. Don't make so much of it, my good +fellow--only a bit of a lark, you know. 'Pon my honor, there was nothing +wrong meant. Ready to do you a bit of a good turn, any time," interrupts +Mr. Snivel, blandly, and extending his hand. + +"You! villain, do me a friendly act? Never. You poisoned the mind of my +mother against me, robbed her of her property, and then sought to +destroy the happiness and blast forever the reputation of one who is +dearer to me than a sister. You have lived a miscreant long enough. You +must die now." Quickly the excited man draws a pistol, the report rings +sharply on the ear, and the tall figure of Mr. Snivel staggers against +the door, then falls to the ground,--dead. His day of reckoning has +come, and with it a terrible retribution. + +"Now Maria, here," says Tom, picking up a packet of letters that had +dropped from the pocket of the man, as he fell, "is the proof of his +guilt and my sincerity." They were the letters written by him to Maria, +and intercepted by Mr. Snivel, through the aid of a clerk in the +post-office. "He has paid the penalty of his misdeeds, and I have no +regrets to offer. To-morrow I will give myself up and ask only justice." + +Then clasping Maria in his arms he bids old Cato follow him, and +proceeds with her to a place of safety for the night, as an anxious +throng gather about the house, eager to know the cause of the shooting. +"Ah, Mas'r Snivel," says old Cato, pausing to take a last look of the +prostrate form, "you's did a heap o' badness. Gone now. Nobody'll say he +care." + + + + +CHAPTER XLIX. + +ALL'S WELL. + + +Two months have passed since the events recorded in the preceding +chapter. Tom has been arraigned before a jury of his peers, and +honorably acquitted, although strong efforts were made to procure a +conviction, for Mr. Snivel had many friends in Charleston who considered +his death a loss. But the people said it was a righteous verdict, and +justified it by their applause. + +And now, the dark clouds of sorrow and trial having passed away, the +happy dawn of a new life is come. How powerfully the truth of the words +uttered by the woman, Undine, impresses itself on her mind now,--"You +are still richer than me." It is a bright sunny morning in early April. +Birds are making the air melodious with their songs; flowers blooming by +the roadside, are distilling their perfumes; a bright and serene sky, +tinged in the East with soft, azure clouds, gives a clear, delicate +outline to the foliage, so luxuriant and brilliant of color, skirting +the western edge of the harbor, and reflecting itself in the calm, +glassy water. A soft whispering wind comes fragrant from the west; it +does indeed seem as if nature were blending her beauties to make the +harmony perfect. + +A grotesque group, chiefly negroes, old and young, may be seen gathered +about the door of a quaint old personage near the millpond. Their +curiosity is excited to the highest pitch, and they wait with evident +impatience the coming of the object that has called them together. Chief +among the group is old Cato, in his best clothes, consisting of a tall +drab hat, a faded blue coat, the tail extending nearly to the ground, +striped pantaloons, a scarlet vest, an extravagant shirt collar, tied at +the neck with a piece of white cotton, and his bare feet. Cato moves up +and down, evidently feeling himself an important figure of the event, +and admonishing his young "brudren," who are much inclined to mischief, +not a few having perched on the pickets of the parsonage, to keep on +their best behavior. Then he discourses with great volubility of his +long acquaintance with Mas'r Tom and Miss Maria. + +As if to add another prominent picture to the scene, there appears at +the door of the parsonage, every few minutes, a magnificently got-up +negro, portly, grey hair, and venerable, dressed in unsullied black, a +spotless white cravat, and gloves. This is Uncle Pomp, who considers +himself an essential part of the parsonage, and is regarded with awe for +his Bible knowledge by all the colored people of the neighborhood. Pomp +glances up, then down the street, advances a few steps, admonishes the +young negroes, and exchanges bows with Cato, whom he regards as quite a +common brought-up negro compared with himself. Now he disappears, Cato +remarking to his companions that if he had Pomp's knowledge and learning +he would not thank anybody to make him a white man. + +Presently there is a stir in the group: all eyes are turned up the road, +and the cry is, "Dare da comes." Two carriages approach at a rapid +speed, and haul up at the gate, to the evident delight and relief of the +younger members of the group, who close in and begin scattering sprigs +of laurel and flowers along the path, as two couple, in bridal dress, +alight, trip quickly through the garden, and disappear, Pomp bowing +them into the parsonage. Tom and Maria are the central figures of the +interesting ceremony about to be performed. Old Cato received a warm +press of the hand from Tom as he passed, and Cato returned the +recognition, with "God bress Mas'r Tom." A shadow of disappointment +deepened in his face as he saw the door closed, and it occurred to him +that he was not to be a witness of the ceremony. But the door again +opened, and Pomp relieved his wounded feelings by motioning with his +finger, and, when Cato had reached the porch, bowing him into the house. + +And now we have reached the last scene in the picture. There, kneeling +before the altar in the parlor of that quaint old parsonage, are the +happy couple and their companions. The clergyman, in his surplice, reads +the touching service in a clear and impressive voice, while Pomp, in a +pair of antique spectacles, ejaculates the responses in a voice peculiar +to his race. Old Cato, kneeling before a chair near the door, follows +with a loud--Amen. There is something supremely simple, touching, and +impressive in the picture. As the closing words of the benediction fall +from the clergyman's lips, Maria, her pale oval face shadowed with that +sweetness and gentleness an innocent heart only can reflect, raises her +eyes upwards as if to return thanks to the Giver of all good for his +mercy and protection. As she did this a ray of light stole in at the +window and played softly over her features, like a messenger of love +come to announce a happy future. Just then the cup of her joy became +full, and tears, like gems of purest water, glistened in her eyes, then +moistened her pallid cheeks. Truly the woman spoke right when she said, + + "You are still still richer than me." + + + + +HOME INSURANCE COMPANY. +OFFICE, No. 112 & 114 BROADWAY. + + +CASH CAPITAL, ONE MILLION DOLLARS. +Assets, 1st July, 1860, $1,481,819 27. Liabilities, 1st July, 1860, +54,068 67. + + +The Home Insurance Company continues to issue against loss or damage +by FIRE and the dangers of INLAND NAVIGATION AND TRANSPORTATION, +on terms as favorable as the nature of the risks and the real +security of the Insured and the Company will warrant. + +LOSSES EQUITABLY ADJUSTED AND PROMPTLY PAID. + +Charles J. Martin, President. A.F. Willmarth, Vice-President. +J. MILTON SMITH, Secretary. JOHN MCGEE, Assistant Secretary. + + +DIRECTORS. + +Wm. G. Lambert, of A. & A. Lawrence & Co. +Geo. C. Collins, of Sherman, Collins & Co. +Danford N. Barney, of Wells, Fargo & Co. +Lucius Hopkins, President of Importers and Traders' Bank. +Thos. Messenger, of T. & H. Messenger. +Wm. H. Mellen, of Claflin, Mellen & Co. +Chas. J. Martin, President. +A.F. Willmarth, Vice-President. +Charles B. Hatch, of C.B. Hatch & Co. +B. Watson Bull, of Merrick & Bull. +Homer Morgan, +Levi P. Stone, of Stone, Starr & Co. +Jas. Humphrey, late of Barney, Humphrey & Butler. +George Pearce, of George Pearce & Co. +Ward A. Work, of Ward A. Work & Son. +James Low, of James Low & Co., of Louisville. +I.H. Frothingham, late firm of I.H. Frothingham & Co. +Charles A. Bulkley, Bulkley & Co. +Geo. D. Morgan, of E.D. Morgan & Co. +Cephas H. Norton, of Norton & Jewett. +Theo. McNamee, of Bowen, McNamee & Co. +Richard Bigelow, of Doan, King & Co., St. Louis. +Oliver E. Wood, of Willard, Wood & Co. +Alfred S. Barnes, A.S. Barnes & Burr. +George Bliss, of Phelps, Bliss & Co. +Roe Lockwood, of R. Lockwood & Son. +Levi P. Morton, of Morton, Grinnell & Co. +Curtis Noble, late of Condit & Noble. +J.B. Hutchinson, of J.C. Howe & Co., Boston. +Chas. P. Baldwin, of Baldwin, Starr & Co. +Amos T. Dwight, of Trowbridge, Dwight & Co. +H.A. Hurlbut, of Swift, Hurlbut & Co. +Jesse Hoyt, of Jesse Hoyt & Co. +Wm. Sturgis, Jr., of Sturgis, Shaw & Co. +John R. Ford, of Ford Rubber Co. +Sidney Mason, late of Mason & Thompson. +Geo. T. Stedman, of Stedman, Carlisle & Shaw, Cincinnati. +Cyrus Yale, Jr., of Cyrus Yale, Jr. & Co., of New Orleans. +Wm. R. Fosdick, of Wm. R. & Chas. B. Fosdick. +David I. Boyd, of Boyd, Brother & Co., Albany. +F.H. Cossitt, of Cossitt, Hill & Tallmadge, Memphis. +Lewis Roberts, of L. Roberts & Co. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of An Outcast, by F. Colburn Adams + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AN OUTCAST *** + +***** This file should be named 20745.txt or 20745.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/0/7/4/20745/ + +Produced by Graeme Mackreth, Curtis Weyant and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images produced by the Wright +American Fiction Project.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/20745.zip b/20745.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..ac990bc --- /dev/null +++ b/20745.zip diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..349b310 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #20745 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/20745) |