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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/31194-8.txt b/31194-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4eb5677 --- /dev/null +++ b/31194-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5132 @@ +Project Gutenberg's Stories by American Authors, Volume 9, by Various + +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: Stories by American Authors, Volume 9 + +Author: Various + +Release Date: February 6, 2010 [EBook #31194] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STORIES--AMERICAN AUTHORS, VOL 9 *** + + + + +Produced by D Alexander, Juliet Sutherland and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + +Stories by American Authors + +VOLUME IX + + + _MARSE CHAN_ + BY THOMAS NELSON PAGE + + _MR. BIXBY'S CHRISTMAS VISITOR_ + BY CHARLES S. GAGE + + _ELI_ + BY C. H. WHITE + + _YOUNG STRONG OF "THE CLARION"_ + BY MILICENT WASHBURN SHINN + + _HOW OLD WIGGINS WORE SHIP_ + BY CAPTAIN ROLAND T. COFFIN + + "----_MAS HAS COME_" + BY LEONARD KIP + + NEW YORK + CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS + 1896 + + + + + COPYRIGHT, 1885, BY + CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS + + + + +_The Stories in this Volume are protected by copyright, and are +printed here by authority of the authors or their representatives._ + + + + +[Illustration: Thos. N. Page] + + + + +MARSE CHAN. + +A TALE OF OLD VIRGINIA. + +BY THOMAS NELSON PAGE. + +_Century Magazine April, 1884._ + + +One afternoon, in the autumn of 1872, I was riding leisurely down +the sandy road that winds along the top of the water-shed between +two of the smaller rivers of eastern Virginia. The road I was +travelling, following "the ridge" for miles, had just struck me as +most significant of the character of the race whose only avenue of +communication with the outside world it had formerly been. Their once +splendid mansions, now fast falling to decay, appeared to view from +time to time, set back far from the road, in proud seclusion among +groves of oak and hickory now scarlet and gold with the early frost. +Distance was nothing to this people; time was of no consequence to +them. They desired but a level path in life, and that they had, +though the way was longer and the outer world strode by them as they +dreamed. + +I was aroused from my reflections by hearing some one ahead of me +calling, "Heah!--heah-whoo-oop, heah!" + +Turning the curve in the road, I saw just before me a negro standing, +with a hoe and a watering-pot in his hand. He had evidently just +gotten over the "worm-fence" into the road, out of the path which led +zigzag across the "old field" and was lost to sight in the dense +growth of sassafras. When I rode up, he was looking anxiously back +down this path for his dog. So engrossed was he that he did not even +hear my horse, and I reined in to wait until he should turn around and +satisfy my curiosity as to the handsome old place half a mile off from +the road. + +The numerous out-buildings and the large barns and stables told that +it had once been the seat of wealth, and the wild waste of sassafras +that covered the broad fields gave it an air of desolation that +greatly excited my interest. Entirely oblivious of my proximity, the +negro went on calling, "Whoo-oop, heah!" until along the path, walking +very slowly and with great dignity, appeared a noble-looking old +orange and white setter, gray with age, and corpulent with excessive +feeding. As soon as he came in sight, his master began: + +"Yes, dat you! You gittin' deaf as well as bline, I s'pose! Kyarnt +heah me callin', I reckon? Whyn't yo' come on, dawg?" + +The setter sauntered slowly up to the fence and stopped without even +deigning a look at the speaker, who immediately proceeded to take the +rails down, talking meanwhile: + +"Now, I got to pull down de gap, I s'pose! Yo' so sp'ilt yo' kyahn' +hardly walk. Jes' ez able to git over it as I is! Jes' like white +folks--t'ink 'cuz you's white and I's black, I got to wait on yo' all +de time. Ne'm mine, I ain' gwi' do it!" + +The fence having been pulled down sufficiently low to suit his +dogship, he marched sedately through, and, with a hardly perceptible +lateral movement of his tail, walked on down the road. Putting up the +rails carefully, the negro turned and saw me. + +"Sarvent, marster," he said, taking his hat off. Then, as if +apologetically for having permitted a stranger to witness what was +merely a family affair, he added: "He know I don' mean nothin' by what +I sez. He's Marse Chan's dawg, an' he's so ole he kyahn git long no +pearter. He know I'se jes' prodjickin' wid 'im." + +"Who is Marse Chan?" I asked; "and whose place is that over there--and +the one a mile or two back--the place with the big gate and the carved +stone pillars?" + +"Marse Chan," said the darkey, "he's Marse Channin'--my young marster; +an' dem places--dis one's Weall's, an' de one back dyar wid de rock +gate-pos's is ole Cun'l Chahmb'lin's. Dey don' nobody live dyar +now, 'cep' niggers. Arfter de war some one or nudder bought our place, +but his name done kind o' slipped me. I nuvver hearn on 'im befo'; I +think dey's half-strainers. I don' ax none on 'em no odds. I lives +down de road heah, a little piece, an' I jes' steps down of a evenin' +and looks arfter de graves." + +"Well, where is Marse Chan?" I asked. + +"Hi! don' you know? Marse Chan, he went in de army. I wuz wid 'im. Yo' +know he warn' gwine an' lef' Sam." + +"Will you tell me all about it?" I said, dismounting. + +Instantly, and as if by instinct, the darkey stepped forward and took +my bridle. I demurred a little; but with a bow that would have honored +old Sir Roger, he shortened the reins, and taking my horse from me, +led him along. + +"Now tell me about Marse Chan," I said. + +"Lawd, marster, hit's so long ago, I'd a'most forgit all about it, ef +I hedn' been wid him ever sence he wuz born. Ez 'tis, I remembers it +jes' like 'twuz yistiddy. Yo' know Marse Chan an' me--we wuz boys +togedder. I wuz older'n he wuz, jes' de same ez he wuz whiter'n me. I +wuz born plantin' corn time, de spring arfter big Jim an' de six +steers got washed away at de upper ford right down dyar b'low de +quarters ez he wuz a bringin' de Chris'mas things home; an' Marse +Chan, he warn' born tell mos' to der harves' arfter my sister Nancy +married Cun'l Chahmb'lin's Torm, 'bout eight years arfterwards. + +"Well, when Marse Chan wuz born dey wuz de grettes' doin's at home you +ever did see. De folks all hed holiday, jes' like in de Chris'mas. Ole +marster (we didn' call 'im _ole_ marster tell arfter Marse Chan wuz +born--befo' dat he wuz jes' de marster, so)--well, ole marster, his +face fyar shine wid pleasure, an' all de folks wuz mighty glad, too, +'cause dey all loved ole marster, and aldo' dey did step aroun' right +peart when ole marster wuz lookin' at 'em, dyar warn' nyar han' on de +place but what, ef he wanted anythin', would walk up to de back poach, +an' say he warn' to see de marster. An' ev'ybody wuz talkin' 'bout de +young marster, an' de maids an' de wimmens 'bout de kitchen wuz sayin' +how 'twuz de purties' chile dey ever see; an' at dinner-time de mens +(all on 'em hed holiday) come roun' de poach an' ax how de missis an' +de young marster wuz, an' ole marster come out on de poach an' smile +wus'n a 'possum, an' sez, 'Thankee! Bofe doin' fust rate, boys;' an' +den he stepped back in de house, sort o' laughin' to hisse'f, an' in a +minute he come out ag'in wid de baby in he arms, all wrapped up in +flannens an' things, an' sez, 'Heah he is, boys.' All de folks den, +dey went up on de poach to look at 'im, drappin' dey hats on de steps, +an' scrapin' dey feets ez dey went up. An' pres'n'y ole marster, +lookin' down at we all chil'en all packed togedder down deah like a +parecel o' sheep-burrs, cotch sight o' _me_ (he knowed my name, 'cause +I use' to hole he hoss fur 'im sometimes; but he didn' know all de +chil'en by name, dey wuz so many on 'em), an' he sez, 'Come up heah.' +So up I goes tippin', skeered like, an' old marster sez, 'Ain' you +Mymie's son?' 'Yass, seh,' sez I. 'Well,' sez he, 'I'm gwine to give +you to yo' young Marse Channin' to be his body-servant,' an' he put de +baby right in my arms (it's de truth I'm tellin' you!), an' yo' jes' +ought to a-heard de folks sayin', 'Lawd! marster, dat boy'll drap dat +chile!' 'Naw, he won't,' sez marster; 'I kin trust 'im.' And den he +sez: 'Now, Sam, from dis time you belong to yo' young Marse Channin'; +I wan' you to tek keer on 'im ez long ez he lives. You are to be his +boy from dis time. An' now,' he sez, 'carry 'im in de house.' An' he +walks arfter me an' opens de do's fur me, an' I kyars 'im in my arms, +an' lays 'im down on de bed. An' from dat time I wuz tooken in de +house to be Marse Channin's body-servant. + +"Well, you nuvver see a chile grow so. Pres'n'y he growed up right +big, an' ole marster sez he must have some edication. So he sont 'im +to school to ole Miss Lawry down dyar, dis side o' Cun'l Chahmb'lin's, +an' I use' to go 'long wid 'im an' tote he books an' we all's snacks; +an' when he larnt to read an' spell right good, an' got 'bout so-o +big, old Miss Lawry she died, an' ole marster said he mus' have a man +to teach 'im an' trounce 'im. So we all went to Mr. Hall, whar kep' de +school-house beyant de creek, an' dyar we went ev'y day, 'cep' +Sat'd'ys of co'se, an' sich days ez Marse Chan din' warn' go, an' ole +missis begged 'im off. + +"Hit wuz down dyar Marse Chan fust took notice o' Miss Anne. Mr. Hall, +he taught gals ez well ez boys, an' Cun'l Chahmb'lin he sont his +daughter (dat's Miss Anne I'm talkin' about). She wuz a leetle bit o' +gal when she fust come. Yo' see, her ma wuz dead, an' ole Miss Lucy +Chahmb'lin, she lived wid her brudder an' kep' house for 'im; an' he +wuz so busy wid politics, he didn' have much time to spyar, so he sont +Miss Anne to Mr. Hall's by a 'ooman wid a note. When she come dat day +in de school-house, an' all de chil'en looked at her so hard, she tu'n +right red, an' tried to pull her long curls over her eyes, an' den put +bofe de backs of her little han's in her two eyes, an' begin to cry to +herse'f. Marse Chan he was settin' on de een' o' de bench nigh de do', +an' he jes' reached out an' put he arm roun' her an' drawed her up to +'im. An' he kep' whisperin' to her, an' callin' her name, an' coddlin' +her; an' pres'n'y she took her han's down an' begin to laugh. + +"Well, dey 'peared to tek' a gre't fancy to each udder from dat time. +Miss Anne she warn' nuthin' but a baby hardly, an' Marse Chan he wuz a +good big boy 'bout mos' thirteen years ole, I reckon. Hows'ever, dey +sut'n'y wuz sot on each udder an' (yo' heah me!) ole marster an' Cun'l +Chahmb'lin dey 'peared to like it 'bout well ez de chil'en. Yo' see +Cun'l Chahmb'lin's place j'ined ourn, an' it looked jes' ez natural +fur dem two chil'en to marry an' mek it one plantation, ez it did fur +de creek to run down de bottom from our place into Cun'l Chahmb'lin's. +I don' rightly think de chil'en thought 'bout gittin' _married_, not +den, no mo'n I thought 'bout marryin' Judy when she wuz a little gal +at Cun'l Chahmb'lin's, runnin' 'bout de house, huntin' fur Miss Lucy's +spectacles; but dey wuz good frien's from de start. Marse Chan he use' +to kyar Miss Anne's books fur her ev'y day, an' ef de road wuz muddy +or she wuz tired, he use' to tote her; an' 'twarn' hardly a day passed +dat he didn' kyar her some'n' to school--apples or hick'y nuts, or +some'n'. He wouldn' let none o' de chil'en tease her, nudder. Heh! One +day, one o' de boys poked he finger at Miss Anne, an' arfter school +Marse Chan he axed 'im 'roun' hine de school-house out o' sight, an' +ef he didn' whop 'im! + +"Marse Chan, he wuz de peartes' scholar ole Mr. Hall hed, an' Mr. Hall +he wuz mighty proud o' 'im. I don' think he use' to beat 'im ez much +ez he did de udders, aldo' he wuz de head in all debilment dat went +on, jes' ez he wuz in sayin' he lessons. + +"Heh! one day in summer, jes' 'fo' de school broke up, dyah come up a +storm right sudden, an' riz de creek (dat one yo' cross' back yonder), +an' Marse Chan he toted Miss Anne home on he back. He ve'y off'n did +dat when de parf wuz muddy. But dis day when dey come to de creek, it +had done washed all de logs 'way. 'Twuz still mighty high, so Marse +Chan he put Miss Anne down, an' he took a pole an' waded right in. Hit +took 'im long up to de shoulders. Den he waded back, an' took Miss +Anne up on his head an' kyar'd her right over. At fust she wuz +skeered; but he tol' her he could swim an' wouldn' let her git hu't, +an' den she let 'im kyar her 'cross, she hol'in' his han's. I warn' +'long dat day, but he sut'n'y did dat thing. + +"Ole marster he wuz so pleased 'bout it, he giv' Marse Chan a pony; +an' Marse Chan rode 'im to school de day arfter he come, so proud, an' +sayin' how he wuz gwine to let Anne ride behine 'im; an' when he come +home dat evenin' he wuz walkin'. 'Hi! where's yo' pony?' said ole +marster. 'I give 'im to Anne,' says Marse Chan. 'She liked 'im, an'--I +kin walk.' 'Yes,' sez ole marster, laughin', 'I s'pose you's already +done giv' her yo'se'f, an' nex' thing I know you'll be givin' her this +plantation and all my niggers.' + +"Well, about a fortnight or sich a matter arfter dat, Cun'l Chahmb'lin +sont over an' invited all o' we all over to dinner, an' Marse Chan wuz +'spressly named in de note whar Ned brought; an' arfter dinner he made +ole Phil, whar wuz his ker'ige-driver, bring roun' Marse Chan's pony +wid a little side-saddle on 'im, an' a beautiful little hoss wid a +bran'-new saddle an' bridle on 'im; an' he gits up an' meks Marse Chan +a gre't speech, an' presents 'im de little hoss; an' den he calls Miss +Anne, an' she comes out on de poach in a little ridin' frock, an' dey +puts her on her pony, an' Marse Chan mounts his hoss, an' dey goes to +ride, while de grown folks is a-laughin' an' chattin' an' smokin' dey +cigars. + +"Dem wuz good ole times, marster--de bes' Sam ever see! Dey wuz, in +fac'! Niggers didn' hed nothin' 't all to do--jes' hed to 'ten' to de +feedin', an' cleanin' de hosses, an' doin' what de marster tell 'em to +do; an' when dey wuz sick, dey had things sont 'em out de house, an' +de same doctor come to see 'em whar 'ten' to de white folks when dey +wuz po'ly. Dyar warn' no trouble nor nothin'. + +"Well, things tuk a change arfter dat. Marse Chan he went to de +bo'din' school, whar he use' to write to me constant. Ole missis use' +to read me de letters, an' den I'd git Miss Anne to read 'em ag'in to +me when I'd see her. He use' to write to her too, an' she use' to +write to him too. Den Miss Anne she wuz sont off to school too. An' in +de summer time dey'd bofe come home, an' yo' hardly knowed whether +Marse Chan lived at home or over at Cun'l Chahmb'lin's. He wuz over +dyah constant. 'Twuz always ridin' or fishin' down dyah, in de river; +or sometimes he' go over dyah, an' 'im an' she'd go out an' set in de +yard onder de trees; she settin' up mekin' out she wuz knittin' some +sort o' bright-cullored some'n', wid de grarss growin' all up 'g'inst +her, an' her hat th'owed back on her neck, an' he readin' to her out +books; an' sometimes dey'd bofe read out de same book, fust one an' +den todder. I use' to see 'em! Dat wuz when dey wuz growin' up like. + +"Den ole marster he run for Congress, an' ole Cun'l Chahmb'lin he wuz +put up to run 'g'inst ole marster by de Dimicrats; but ole marster he +beat 'im. Yo' know he wuz gwine do dat! Co'se he wuz! Dat made ole +Cun'l Chahmb'lin mighty mad, and dey stopt visitin' each udder +reg'lar, like dey had been doin' all 'long. Den Cun'l Chahmb'lin he +sort o' got in debt, an' sell some o' he niggers, an' dat's de way de +fuss begun. Dat's whar de lawsuit cum from. Ole marster he didn' like +nobody to sell niggers, an' knowin' dat Cun'l Chahmb'lin wuz sellin' +o' his, he writ an' offered to buy his M'ria an' all her chil'en, +'cause she hed married our Zeek'yel. An' don' yo' t'ink, Cun'l +Chahmb'lin axed ole marster mo' 'n th'ee niggers wuz wuth fur M'ria. +Befo' old marster bought her, dough, de sheriff cum an' levelled on +M'ria an' a whole parecel o' udder niggers. Ole marster he went to de +sale, an' bid for 'em; but Cun'l Chahmb'lin he got some one to bid +'g'inst ole marster. Dey wuz knocked out to ole marster dough, an' den +dey hed a big lawsuit, an' ole marster wuz agwine to co't, off an' on, +fur some years, till at lars' de co't decided dat M'ria belonged to +ole marster. Ole Cun'l Chahmb'lin den wuz so mad he sued ole marster +for a little strip o' lan' down dyah on de line fence, whar he said +belonged to 'im. Ev'ybody knowed hit belonged to ole marster. Ef yo' +go down dyah now, I kin show it to yo', inside de line fence, whar it +hed done bin ever since long befo' ole marster wuz born. But Cun'l +Chahmb'lin wuz a mons'us perseverin' man, an' ole marster he wouldn' +let nobody run over 'im. No, dat he wouldn'! So dey wuz agwine down to +co't about dat, fur I don' know how long, till ole marster beat 'im. + +"All dis time, yo' know, Marse Chan wuz a-goin' back'ads an' for'ads +to college, an' wuz growed up a ve'y fine young man. He wuz a ve'y +likely gent'man! Miss Anne she hed done mos' growed up, too--wuz +puttin' her hyar up like ole missis use' to put hers up, an' 'twuz +jes' ez bright ez de sorrel's mane when de sun cotch on it, an' her +eyes wuz gre't big dark eyes, like her pa's, on'y bigger an' not so +fierce, an' 'twarn' none o' de young ladies ez purty ez she wuz. She +an' Marse Chan still set a heap o' sto' by one 'nudder, but I don' +t'ink dey wuz easy wid each udder ez when he used to tote her home +from school on his back. Marse Chan he use' to love de ve'y groun' she +walked on, dough, in my 'pinion. Heh! His face 'twould light up +whenever she come into chu'ch, or anywhere, jes' like de sun hed come +th'oo a chink on it suddenly. + +"Den ole marster lost he eyes. D' yo' ever hyah 'bout dat? Heish! +Didn' yo'? Well, one night de big barn cotch fire. De stables, yo' +know, wuz under de big barn, an' all de hosses wuz in dyah. Hit +'peared to me like 'twarn' no time befo' all de folks an' de +neighbors dey come, an' dey wuz a-totin' water, an' a-tryin' to save +de po' critters, an' dey got a heap on 'em out; but de ker'ige-hosses +dey wouldn' come out, an' dey wuz a-runnin' back'ads an' for'ads +inside de stalls, a-nikerin' an' a-screamin', like dey knowed dey time +hed come. Yo' could heah 'em so pitiful, an' pres'n'y ole marster said +to Ham Fisher (he wuz de ker'ige-driver), 'Go in dyah an' try to save +'em; don' let 'em bu'n to death.' An' Ham he went right in. An' jes' +arfter he got in, de shed whar it hed fus' cotch fell in, an' de +sparks shot 'way up in de air; an' Ham didn' come back, an' de fire +begun to lick out under de eaves over whar de ker'ige-hosses' stalls +wuz, an' all of a sudden ole marster tu'ned and kissed ole missis, who +wuz standin' nigh him, wid her face jes' ez white ez a sperit's, an', +befo' anybody knowed what he wuz gwine do, jumped right in de do', an' +de smoke come po'in' out behine 'im. Well, seh, I nuvver 'specks to +hyah tell Judgment sich a soun' ez de folks set up. Ole missis she +jes' drapt down on her knees in de mud an' prayed out loud. Hit +'peared like her pra'r wuz heard; for in a minit, right out de same +do', kyarin' Ham Fisher in his arms, come ole marster, wid his clo'es +all blazin'. Dey flung water on 'im, an' put 'im out; an', ef you +b'lieve me, yo' wouldn' a-knowed 'twuz ole marster. Yo' see, he hed +find Ham Fisher done fall down in de smoke right by de ker'ige-hoss' +stalls, whar he sont him, an' he hed to tote 'im back in his arms +th'oo de fire what hed done cotch de front part o' de stable, an' to +keep de flame from gittin' down Ham Fisher's th'ote he hed tuk off his +own hat and mashed it all over Ham Fisher's face, an' he hed kep' Ham +Fisher from bein' so much bu'nt; but _he_ wuz bu'nt dreadful! His +beard an' hyar wuz all nyawed off, an' his face an' han's an' neck wuz +scorified terrible. Well, he jes' laid Ham Fisher down, an' then he +kind o' staggered for'ad, an' ole missis ketch' 'im in her arms. Ham +Fisher, he warnt bu'nt so bad, an' he got out in a month or two; an' +arfter a long time, ole marster he got well, too; but he wuz always +stone bline arfter dat. He nuvver could see none from dat night. + +"Marse Chan he comed home from college toreckly, an' he sut'n'y did +nuss ole marster faithful--jes' like a 'ooman. Den he took charge o' +de plantation arfter dat; an' I use' to wait on 'im jes' like when we +wuz boys togedder; an' sometimes we'd slip off an' have a fox-hunt, +an' he'd be jes' like he wuz in ole times, befo' ole marster got +bline, an' Miss Anne Chahmb'lin stopt comin' over to our house, an' +settin' onder de trees, readin' out de same book. + +"He sut'n'y wuz good to me. Nothin' nuvver made no diffunce 'bout dat. +He nuvver hit me a lick in his life--an' nuvver let nobody else do it, +nudder. + +"I 'members one day, when he wuz a leetle bit o' boy, ole marster hed +done tole we all chil'en not to slide on de straw-stacks; an' one day +me an' Marse Chan thought ole marster hed done gone 'way from home. We +watched him git on he hoss an' ride up de road out o' sight, an' we +wuz out in de field a-slidin' an' a-slidin', when up comes ole +marster. We started to run; but he hed done see us, an' he called us +to come back; an' sich a whoppin' ez he did gi' us! + +"Fust he took Marse Chan, an' den he teched me up. He nuvver hu't me, +but in co'se I wuz a-hollerin' ez hard ez I could stave it, 'cause I +knowed dat wuz gwine mek him stop. Marse Chan he hed'n open he mouf +long ez ole marster wuz tunin' 'im; but soon ez he commence warmin' me +an' I begin to holler, Marse Chan he bu'st out cryin', an' stept right +in befo' ole marster, an' ketchin' de whop, sed: + +"'Stop, seh! Yo' sha'n't whop 'im; he b'longs to me, an' ef you hit +'im another lick I'll set 'im free!' + +"I wish yo' hed see ole marster. Marse Chan he warn' mo'n eight years +ole, an' dyah dey wuz--ole marster stan'in' wid he whop raised up, an' +Marse Chan red an' cryin', hol'in' on to it, an' sayin' I b'longst to +'im. + +"Ole marster, he raise' de whop, an' den he drapt it, an' broke out in +a smile over he face, an' he chuck' Marse Chan onder der chin, an' +tu'n right roun' an' went away, laughin' to hisse'f, an' I heah' 'im +tellin' ole missis dat evenin', an' laughin' 'bout it. + +"'Twan' so mighty long arfter dat when dey fust got to talkin' 'bout +de war. Dey wuz a-dictatin' back'ads an' for'ads 'bout it fur two or +th'ee years 'fo' it come sho' nuff, you know. Ole marster, he wuz a +Whig, an' of co'se Marse Chan he tuk after he pa. Cun'l Chahmb'lin, he +wuz a Dimicrat. He wuz in favor of de war, an' ole marster and Marse +Chan dey wuz agin' it. Dey wuz a-talkin' 'bout it all de time, an' +purty soon Cun'l Chahmb'lin he went about ev'vywhar speakin' an' +noratin' 'bout Firginia ought to secede; an' Marse Chan he wuz picked +up to talk agin' 'im. Dat wuz de way dey come to fight de duil. I +sut'n'y wuz skeered fur Marse Chan dat mawnin', an' he was jes' ez +cool! Yo' see, it happen so: Marse Chan he wuz a-speakin' down at de +Deep Creek Tavern, an' he kind o' got de bes' of ole Cun'l Chahmb'lin. +All de white folks laughed an' hoorawed, an' ole Cun'l Chahmb'lin--my +Lawd! I t'ought he'd 'a' bu'st, he wuz so mad. Well, when it come to +his time to speak, he jes' light into Marse Chan. He call 'im a +traitor, an' a ab'litionis', an' I don' know what all. Marse Chan, he +jes' kep' cool till de ole Cun'l light into he pa. Ez soon ez he name +ole marster, I seen Marse Chan sort o' lif' up he head. D' yo' ever +see a hoss rar he head up right sudden at night when he see somethin' +comin' to'ds 'im from de side an' he don' know what 'tis? Ole Cun'l +Chahmb'lin, he went right on. He said ole marster hed taught Marse +Chan; dat ole marster wuz a wuss ab'litionis' dan he son. I looked at +Marse Chan, an' sez to myse'f: 'Fo' Gord! old Cun'l Chahmb'lin better +min', an' I hedn' got de wuds out, when ole Cun'l Chahmb'lin 'cuse' +ole marster o' cheatin' 'im out o' he niggers, an' stealin' piece o' +he lan'--dat's de lan' I tole you 'bout. Well, seh, nex' thing I +knowed, I heahed Marse Chan--hit all happen right 'long togedder, like +lightnin' an' thunder when dey hit right at you--I heah 'im say: + +"'Cun'l Chahmb'lin, what you say is false, an' yo' know it to be so. +You have wilfully slandered one of the pures' an' nobles' men Gord +ever made, an' nothin' but yo' gray hyars protects you.' + +"Well, ole Cun'l Chahmb'lin, he ra'ed an' he pitch'd. He said he wan' +too ole, an' he'd show 'im so. + +"'Ve'y well,' says Marse Chan. + +"De meetin' broke up den. I wuz hol'in de hosses out dyar in de road +by de een' o' de poach, an' I see Marse Chan talkin' an' talkin' to +Mr. Gordon an' anudder gent'man, an' den he come out an' got on de +sorrel an' galloped off. Soon ez he got out o' sight, he pulled up, +an' we walked along tell we come to de road whar leads off to'ds Mr. +Barbour's. He wuz de big lawyer o' de country. Dar he tu'ned off. All +dis time he hedn' sed a wud, 'cep' to kind o' mumble to hisse'f now +an' den. When we got to Mr. Barbour's, he got down an' went in. Dat +wuz in de late winter; de folks wuz jes' beginnin' to plough fur corn. +He stayed dyar 'bout two hours, an' when he come out Mr. Barbour come +out to de gate wid 'im an' shake han's arfter he got up in de saddle. +Den we all rode off. 'Twuz late den--good dark; an' we rid ez hard +ez we could, tell we come to de ole school-house at ole Cun'l +Chahmb'lin's gate. When we got dar Marse Chan got down an' walked +right slow 'roun' de house. Arfter lookin' 'roun' a little while an' +tryin' de do' to see ef it wuz shet, he walked down de road tell he +got to de creek. He stop' dyar a little while an' picked up two or +three little rocks an' frowed 'em in, an' pres'n'y he got up an' we +come on home. Ez he got down, he tu'ned to me an', rubbin' de sorrel's +nose, said: 'Have 'em well fed, Sam; I'll want 'em early in de +mawnin'.' + +"Dat night at supper he laugh an' talk, an' he set at de table a long +time. Arfter ole marster went to bed, he went in de charmber an' set +on de bed by 'im talkin' to 'im an' tellin' 'im 'bout de meetin' an' +ev'ything; but he never mention ole Cun'l Chahmb'lin's name. When he +got up to come out to de office in de yard, whar he slept, he stooped +down an' kissed 'im jes' like he wuz a baby layin' dyar in de bed, an' +he'd hardly let ole missis go at all. I knowed some'n wuz up, an' nex' +mawnin' I called 'im early befo' light, like he tole me, an' he +dressed an' come out pres'n'y jes' like he wuz goin' to chu'ch. I had +de hosses ready, an' we went out de back way to'ds de river. Ez we +rode along, he said: + +"'Sam, you an' I wuz boys togedder, wa'n't we?' + +"'Yes,' sez I, 'Marse Chan, dat we wuz.' + +"'You have been ve'y faithful to me,' sez he, 'an' I have seen to it +that you are well provided fur. You wan' to marry Judy, I know, an' +you'll be able to buy her ef you want to.' + +"Den he tole me he wuz goin' to fight a duil, an' in case he should +git shot, he had set me free an' giv' me nuff to tek keer o' me an' my +wife ez long ez we lived. He said he'd like me to stay an' tek keer o' +ole marster an' ole missis ez long ez dey lived, an' he said it +wouldn' be very long, he reckoned. Dat wuz de on'y time he voice +broke--when he said dat; an' I couldn' speak a wud, my th'oat choked +me so. + +"When we come to de river, we tu'ned right up de bank, an' arfter +ridin' 'bout a mile or sich a matter, we stopped whar dey wuz a little +clearin' wid elder bushes on one side an' two big gum trees on de +udder, an' de sky wuz all red, an' de water down to'ds whar de sun wuz +comin' wuz jes' like de sky. + +"Pres'n'y Mr. Gordon he come wid a 'hogany box 'bout so big 'fore 'im, +an' he got down, an' Marse Chan tole me to tek all de hosses an' go +'roun' behine de bushes whar I tell you 'bout--off to one side; an' +'fore I got 'roun' dar, ole Cun'l Chahmb'lin an' Mr. Hennin an' Dr. +Call come ridin' from tudder way, to'ds ole Cun'l Chahmb'lin's. When +dey hed tied dey hosses, de udder gent'mens went up to whar Mr. Gordon +wuz, an' arfter some chattin' Mr. Hennin step' off 'bout fur ez 'cross +dis road, or mebbe it mout be a little furder; an' den I seed 'em +th'oo de bushes loadin' de pistils, an' talk' a little while; an' den +Marse Chan an' ole Cun'l Chahmb'lin walked up wid de pistils in dey +han's, an' Marse Chan he stood wid his face right to'ds de sun. I seen +it shine on 'im jes' ez it come up over de low groun's, an' he look' +like he did sometimes when he come out of chu'ch. I wuz so skeered I +couldn' say nuthin'. Ole Cun'l Chahmb'lin could shoot fust rate, an' +Marse Chan he never missed. + +"Den I heahed Mr. Gordon say, 'Gent'mens, is yo' ready?' and bofe of +'em sez, 'Ready,' jes' so. + +"An' he sez, 'Fire, one, two'--an' ez he said 'one,' ole Cun'l +Chahmb'lin raised he pistil an' shot right at Marse Chan. De ball went +th'oo his hat. I seen he hat sort o' settle on he head ez de bullit +hit it, an' _he_ jes' tilted his pistil up in de a'r an' shot--_bang_; +an' ez de pistil went _bang_, he sez to Cun'l Chahmb'lin, 'I mek you a +present to yo' fam'ly, seh!' + +"Well, dey had some talkin' arfter dat. I didn' git rightly what it +wuz; but it 'peared like Cun'l Chahmb'lin he warn't satisfied, an' +wanted to have anudder shot. De seconds dey wuz talkin', an' pres'n'y +dey put de pistils up, an' Marse Chan an' Mr. Gordon shook han's wid +Mr. Hennin an' Dr. Call, an' come an' got on dey hosses. An' Cun'l +Chahmb'lin he got on his horse an' rode away wid de udder gent'mens, +lookin' like he did de day befo' when all de people laughed at 'im. + +"I b'lieve ole Cun'l Chahmb'lin wan' to shoot Marse Chan, anyway! + +"We come on home to breakfast, I totin' de box wid de pistils befo' me +on the roan. Would you b'lieve me, seh, Marse Chan he nuvver said a +wud 'bout it to ole marster or nobody. Ole missis didn' fin' out 'bout +it for mo'n a month, an' den, Lawd! how she did cry and kiss Marse +Chan; an' ole marster, aldo' he never say much, he wuz jes' ez please' +ez ole missis. He call' me in de room an' made me tole 'im all 'bout +it, an' when I got th'oo he gi' me five dollars an' a pyar of +breeches. + +"But ole Cun'l Chahmb'lin he nuvver did furgive Marse Chan, and Miss +Anne she got mad too. Wimmens is mons'us onreasonable nohow. Dey's +jes' like a catfish: you cann' tek' hole on 'em like udder folks, an' +when you gits 'em yo' can n' always hole 'em. + +"What meks me think so? Heaps o' things--dis: Marse Chan he done gi' +Miss Anne her pa jes' ez good ez I gi' Marse Chan's dawg sweet +'taters, an' she git mad wid 'im ez if he hed kill 'im 'stid o' +sen'in' 'im back to her dat mawnin' whole an' soun'. B'lieve me! she +wouldn' even speak to 'im arfter dat! + +"Don' I 'member dat mawnin'! + +"We wuz gwine fox-huntin', 'bout six weeks or sich a matter arfter de +duil, an' we met Miss Anne ridin' 'long wid anudder lady an' two +gent'mens whar wuz stayin' at her house. Dyar wuz always some one or +nudder dyar co'ting her. Well, dat mawnin' we meet 'em right in de +road. 'Twuz de fust time Marse Chan had see her sence de duil, an' he +raises he hat ez he pahss, an' she looks right at 'im wid her head up +in de yair like she nuvver see 'im befo' in her born days; an' when +she comes by me, she sez, 'Good-mawnin', Sam!' Gord! I nuvver see +nuthin' like de look dat come on Marse Chan's face when she pahss 'im +like dat. He gi' de sorrel a pull dat fotch 'im back settin' down in +de san' on he hanches. He ve'y lips wuz white. I tried to keep up wid +'im, but 'twarn' no use. He sont me back home pres'n'y, an' he rid on. +I sez to myself, 'Cun'l Chahmb'lin, don' yo' meet Marse Chan dis +mawnin'. He ain' bin lookin' 'roun' de ole school-house, whar he an' +Miss Anne use' to go to school to ole Mr. Hall together, fur nuffin'. +He won' stan' no prodjickin' to-day.' + +"He nuvver come home dat night tell 'way late, an' ef he'd been +fox-huntin' it mus' ha' been de ole red whar lives down in de +greenscum mashes he'd been chasin'. De way de sorrel wuz gormed up wid +sweat an' mire sut'n'y did hu't me. He walked up to de stable wid he +head down all de way, an' I'se seen 'im go eighty miles of a winter +day, an' prance into de stable at night ez fresh ez ef he hed jes' +cantered over to ole Cun'l Chahmb'lin's to supper. I nuvver seen a +hoss beat so sence I knowed de fetlock from de fo'lock, an' bad ez he +wuz he wan' ez bad ez Marse Chan. + +"Whew! he didn' git over dat thing, seh--he nuvver did git over it. + +"De war come on jes' den, an' Marse Chan wuz elected cap'n; but he +wouldn' tek it. He said Firginia hadn' seceded, an' he wuz gwine stan' +by her. Den dey 'lected Mr. Gordon cap'n. + +"I sut'n'y did wan' Marse Chan to tek de place, cuz I knowed he wuz +gwine tek me wid 'im. He wan' gwine widout Sam. An' beside, he look so +po' an' thin, I thought he wuz gwine die. + +"Of co'se ole missis she heard 'bout it, an' she met Miss Anne in de +road, an' cut her jes' like Miss Anne cut Marse Chan. + +"Ole missis, she wuz proud ez anybody! So we wuz mo' strangers dan ef +we hadn' live' in a hunderd miles of each udder. An' Marse Chan he wuz +gittin' thinner an' thinner, an' Firginia she come out, an' den Marse +Chan he went to Richmond an' listed, an' come back an' sey he wuz a +private, an' he didn' know whe'r he could tek me or not. He writ to +Mr. Gordon, hows'ever, and 'twuz decided that when he went I wuz to go +'long an' wait on him, an' de cap'n too. I didn' min' dat, yo' know, +long ez I could go wid Marse Chan, an' I like' Mr. Gordon, anyways. + +"Well, one night Marse Chan come back from de offis wid a telegram dat +say, 'Come at once,' so he wuz to start nex' mawnin'. He uniform wuz +all ready, gray wid yaller trimmin's, an' mine wuz ready too, an' he +had ole marster's sword, whar de State gi' 'im in de Mexikin war; an' +he trunks wuz all packed wid ev'rything in 'em, an' my chist wuz +packed too, an' Jim Rasher he druv 'em over to de depo' in de waggin, +an' we wuz to start nex' mawnin' 'bout light. Dis wuz 'bout de las' o' +spring, you know. Dat night ole missis made Marse Chan dress up in he +uniform, an' he sut'n'y did look splendid wid he long mustache an' he +wavin' hyar and he tall figger. + +"Arfter supper he come down an' sez: 'Sam, I wan' you to tek dis note +an' kyar it over to Cun'l Chahmb'lin's, an' gi' it to Miss Anne wid +yo' own han's, an' bring me wud what she sez. Don' let any one know +'bout it, or know why you've gone.' 'Yes, seh,' sez I. + +"Yo' see, I knowed Miss Anne's maid over at ole Cun'l +Chahmb'lin's--dat wuz Judy whar is my wife now--an' I knowed I could +wuk it. So I tuk de roan an' rid over, an' tied 'im down de hill in de +cedars, an' I wen' 'roun' to de back yard. 'Twuz a right blowy sort o' +night; de moon wuz jes' risin', but de clouds wuz so big it didn' +shine 'cep' th'oo a crack now an' den. I soon foun' my gal, an' arfter +tellin' her two or three lies 'bout herse'f, I got her to go in an' ax +Miss Anne to come to de do'. When she come, I gi' her de note, an' +arfter a little while she bro't me anudder, an' I tole her good-by, +an' she gi' me a dollar, an' I come home an' gi' de letter to Marse +Chan. He read it, an' tole me to have de hosses ready at twenty minits +to twelve at de corner of de garden. An' jes' befo' dat he come out ez +ef he wuz gwine to bed, but instid he come, an' we all struck out +to'ds Cun'l Chahmb'lin's. When we got mos' to de gate, de hosses got +sort o' skeered, an' I see dey wuz some'n or somebody standin' jes' +inside; an' Marse Chan he jumpt off de sorrel an' flung me de bridle +and he walked up. + +"She spoke fust ('twuz Miss Anne had done come out dyar to meet Marse +Chan), an' she sez, jes' ez cold ez a chill, 'Well, seh, I granted +your favor. I wished to relieve myse'f of de obligations you placed me +under a few months ago, when you made me a present of my father, whom +you fust insulted an' then prevented from gittin' satisfaction.' + +"Marse Chan he didn' speak fur a minit, an' den he said: 'Who is with +you?' (Dat wuz ev'y wud.) + +"'No one,' sez she; 'I came alone.' + +"'My God!' sez he, 'you didn' come all through those woods by yourse'f +at this time o' night?' + +"'Yes, I'm not afraid,' sez she. (An' heah dis nigger! I don' b'lieve +she wuz.) + +"De moon come out, an' I cotch sight o' her stan'in' dyar in her white +dress, wid de cloak she had wrapped herse'f up in drapped off on de +groun', an' she didn' look like she wuz 'feared o' nuthin'. She wuz +mons'us purty ez she stood dyar wid de green bushes behine her, an' +she hed jes' a few flowers in her breas'--right hyah--and some leaves +in her sorrel hyar; an' de moon come out an' shined down on her hyar +an' her frock, an' 'peared like de light wuz jes' stan'in' off it ez +she stood dyar lookin' at Marse Chan wid her head tho'd back, jes' +like dat mawnin' when she pahss Marse Chan in de road widout speakin' +to 'im, an' sez to me, 'Good mawnin', Sam.' + +"Marse Chan, he den tole her he hed come to say good-by to her, ez he +wuz gwine 'way to de war nex' mawnin'. I wuz watchin' on her, an' I +tho't when Marse Chan tole her dat, she sort o' started an' looked up +at 'im like she wuz mighty sorry, an' 'peared like she didn' stan' +quite so straight arfter dat. Den Marse Chan he went on talkin' right +fars' to her; an' he tole her how he had loved her ever sence she wuz +a little bit o' baby mos', an' how he nuvver 'membered de time when he +hedn' 'spected to marry her. He tole her it wuz his love for her dat +hed made 'im stan' fust at school an' collige, an' hed kep' 'im good +an' pure; an' now he wuz gwine 'way, wouldn' she let it be like 'twuz +in ole times, an' ef he come back from de war wouldn' she try to t'ink +on him ez she use' to do when she wuz a little guirl? + +"Marse Chan he had done been talkin' so serious, he hed done tuk Miss +Anne's han', an' wuz lookin' down in her face like he wuz list'nin' +wid his eyes. + +"Arfter a minit Miss Anne she said somethin', an' Marse Chan he cotch +her udder han' an' sez: + +"'But if you love me, Anne?' + +"When he sed dat, she tu'ned her head 'way from 'im, an' wait' a +minit, an' den she sed--right clear: + +"'But I don' love yo'.' (Jes' dem th'ee wuds!) De wuds fall right +slow--like dirt falls out a spade on a coffin when yo's buryin' +anybody an' seys, 'Uth to uth.' Marse Chan he jes' let her hand drap, +an' he stiddy hisse'f 'g'inst de gate-pos', an' he didn' speak +toreckly. When he did speak, all he sez wuz: + +"'I mus' see you home safe.' + +"I 'clar, marster, I didn' know 'twuz Marse Chan's voice tell I look +at 'im right good. Well, she wouldn' let 'im go wid her. She jes' +wrap' her cloak 'roun' her shoulders, an' wen' 'long back by herse'f, +widout doin' more'n jes' look up once at Marse Chan leanin' dyah +'g'inst de gate-pos' in he sodger clo'es, wid he eyes on de groun'. +She said 'Good-by' sort o' sorf, an' Marse Chan, widout lookin' up, +shake han's wid her, an' she wuz done gone down de road. Soon ez she +got 'mos' 'roun' de curve, Marse Chan he followed her, keepin' under +de trees so ez not to be seen, an' I led de hosses on down de road +behine 'im. He kep' 'long behine her tell she wuz safe in de house, +an' den he come an' got on he hoss, an' we all come home. + +"Nex' mawnin' we all come off to j'ine de army. An' dey wuz a-drillin' +an' a-drillin' all 'bout for a while an' dey went 'long wid all de +res' o' de army, an I went wid Marse Chan an' clean he boots, an' look +arfter de tent, an' tek keer o' him an' de hosses. An' Marse Chan, he +wan' a bit like he use' to be. He wuz so solum an' moanful all de +time, at leas' 'cep' when dyah wuz gwine to be a fight. Den he'd +peartin' up, an' he alwuz rode at de head o' de company 'cause he wuz +tall; an' hit wan' on'y in battles whar all his company wuz dat _he_ +went, but he use' to volunteer whenever de cun'l wanted anybody to +fine out anythin', an' 'twuz so dangersome he didn' like to mek one +man go no sooner'n anudder, yo' know, an' ax'd who'd volunteer. _He_ +'peared to like to go prowlin' aroun' 'mong dem Yankees, an' he use' +to tek me wid 'im whenever he could. Yes, seh, he sut'n'y wuz a good +sodger! He didn' mine bullets no more'n he did so many draps o' rain. +But I use' to be pow'ful skeered sometimes. It jes' use' to 'pear like +fun to 'im. In camp he use' to be so sorrerful he'd hardly open he +mouf. You'd 'a' tho't he wuz seekin', he used to look so moanful; but +jes' le' 'im git into danger, an' he use' to be like ole times--jolly +an' laughin' like when he wuz a boy. + +"When Cap'n Gordon got he leg shot off, dey mek Marse Chan cap'n on de +spot, 'cause one o' de lieutenants got kilt de same day, an' tor'er +one (named Mr. Ronny) wan' no 'count, an' all de company sed Marse +Chan wuz de man. + +"An' Marse Chan he wuz jes' de same. He didn' never mention Miss +Anne's name, but I knowed he wuz thinkin' on her constant. One night +he wuz settin' by de fire in camp, an' Mr. Ronny--he wuz de secon' +lieutenant--got to talkin' 'bout ladies, an' he say all sorts o' +things 'bout 'em, an' I see Marse Chan kinder lookin' mad; an' de +lieutenant mention Miss Anne's name. He hed been courtin' Miss Anne +'bout de time Marse Chan fit de duil wid her pa, an' Miss Anne hed +kicked 'im, dough he wuz mighty rich, 'cause he warn' nuthin' but a +half-strainer, an' 'cause she like Marse Chan, I believe, dough she +didn' speak to 'im; an' Mr. Ronny he got drunk, an' 'cause Cun'l +Chahmb'lin tole 'im not to come dyah no more, he got mighty mad. An' +dat evenin' I'se tellin' yo' 'bout, he wuz talkin', an' he mention' +Miss Anne's name. I see Marse Chan tu'n he eye 'roun' on 'im an' keep +it on he face, an' pres'n'y Mr. Ronny said he wuz gwine hev some fun +dyah yit. He didn' mention her name dat time; but he said dey wuz all +on 'em a parecel of stuck-up 'risticrats, an' her pa wan' no gent'man +anyway, and _she_----I don' know what he wuz gwine say (he nuvver said +it), fur ez he got dat far Marse Chan riz up an' hit 'im a crack, an' +he fall like he hed been hit wid a fence-rail. He challenged Marse +Chan to fight a duil, an' Marse Chan he excepted de challenge, an' dey +wuz gwine fight; but some on 'em tole 'im Marse Chan wan' gwine mek a +present o' him to his fam'ly, an' he got somebody to bre'k up de duil; +'twan' nuthin' dough, but he wuz 'fred to fight Marse Chan. An' purty +soon he lef' de comp'ny. + +"Well, I got one o' de gent'mens to write Judy a letter for me, an' I +tole her all 'bout de fight, an' how Marse Chan knock Mr. Ronny over +fur speakin' discontemptuous o' Cun'l Chahmb'lin, an' I tole her how +Marse Chan wuz a-dyin' fur love o' Miss Anne. An' Judy she gits Miss +Anne to read de letter fur her. Den Miss Anne she tells her pa, +an'--you mind, Judy tells me all dis arfterwards, an' she say when +Cun'l Chahmb'lin hear 'bout it, he wuz settin' on de poach, an' he set +still a good while, an' den he sey to hisse'f: + +"'Well, he carn' he'p bein' a Whig.' + +"An' den he gits up an' walks up to Miss Anne an' looks at her right +hard; an' Miss Anne she hed done tu'n away her head an' wuz makin' out +she wuz fixin' a rose-bush 'g'inst de poach; an' when her pa kep' +lookin' at her, her face got jes' de color o' de roses on de bush, an' +pres'n'y her pa sez: + +"'Anne!' + +"An' she tu'ned 'roun', an' he sez: + +"'Do yo' want 'im?' + +"An' she sez, 'Yes,' an' put her head on he shoulder an' begin to cry; +an' he sez: + +"'Well, I won' stan' between yo' no longer. Write to 'im an' say so.' + +"We didn' know nuthin' 'bout dis den. We wuz a-fightin' an' a-fightin' +all dat time; an' come one day a letter to Marse Chan, an' I see 'im +start to read it in his tent, an' he face hit look so cu'ious, an' he +han's trembled so I couldn' mek out what wuz de matter wid 'im. An' he +fold' de letter up an' wen' out an' wen' 'way down 'hine de camp, an' +stayed dyah 'bout nigh an hour. Well, seh, I wuz on de lookout for 'im +when he come back, an', fo' Gord, ef he face didn' shine like a +angel's. I say to myse'f, 'Um'm! ef de glory o' Gord ain' done shine +on 'im!' An' what yo' 'spose 'twuz? + +"He tuk me wid 'im dat evenin', an' he tell me he hed done git a +letter from Miss Anne, an' Marse Chan he eyes look like gre't big +stars, an' he face wuz jes' like 'twuz dat mawnin' when de sun riz up +over de low groun's, an' I see 'im stan'in' dyah wid de pistil in he +han', lookin' at it, an' not knowin' but what it mout be de lars' +time, an' he done mek up he mine not to shoot ole Cun'l Chahmb'lin fur +Miss Anne's sake, what writ 'im de letter. + +"He fold' de letter wha' was in his han' up, an' put it in he inside +pocket--right dyar on de lef' side; an' den he tole me he tho't mebbe +we wuz gwine hev some warm wuk in de nex' two or th'ee days, an arfter +dat ef Gord speared 'im he'd git a leave o' absence fur a few days, +an' we'd go home. + +"Well, dat night de orders come, an' we all hed to git over to'ds +Romney; an' we rid all night till 'bout light; an' we halted right on +a little creek, an' we stayed dyah till mos' breakfas' time, an' I see +Marse Chan set down on de groun' 'hine a bush an' read dat letter over +an' over. I watch 'im, an' de battle wuz a-goin' on, but we hed orders +to stay 'hine de hill, an' ev'y now an' den de bullets would cut de +limbs o' de trees right over us, an' one o' dem big shells what goes +'_Awhar--awhar--awhar!_' would fall right 'mong us; but Marse Chan he +didn' mine it no mo'n nuthin'! Den it 'peared to git closer an' +thicker, an' Marse Chan he calls me, an' I crep' up, an' he sez: + +"'Sam, we'se goin' to win in dis battle, an' den we'll go home an' git +married; an' I'se goin' home wid a star on my collar.' An' den he sez, +'Ef I'm wounded, kyar me home, yo' hear?' An' I sez, 'Yes, Marse +Chan.' + +"Well, jes' den dey blowed boots an' saddles an' we mounted; an' de +orders come to ride 'roun' de slope, an' Marse Chan's company wuz de +secon'; an' when we got 'roun' dyah, we wuz right in it. Hit wuz de +wust place ever dis nigger got in. An' dey said, 'Charge 'em!' an' my +king! ef ever you see bullets fly, dey did dat day. Hit wuz jes' like +hail; an' we wen' down de slope (I long wid de res') an' up de hill +right to'ds de cannons, an' de fire wuz so strong dyar (dey hed a +whole rigiment o' infintrys layin' down dyar onder de cannons) our +lines sort o' broke an' stop; de cun'l was kilt, an' I b'lieve dey wuz +jes' 'bout to bre'k all to pieces, when Marse Chan rid up an' cotch +hol' de fleg an' hollers, 'Foller me!' an' rid strainin' up de hill +'mong de cannons. I seen 'im when he went, de sorrel four good lengths +ahead o' ev'y udder hoss, jes' like he use' to be in a fox-hunt, an' +de whole rigiment right arfter 'im. Yo' ain' nuvver hear thunder! Fust +thing I knowed, de roan roll' head over heels an' flung me up 'g'inst +de bank, like yo' chuck a nubbin over 'g'inst de foot o' de corn pile. +An' dat's what kep' me from bein' kilt, I 'specks. Judy she say she +think 'twuz Providence, but I think 'twuz de bank. Of co'se, +Providence put de bank dyar, but how come Providence nuvver saved +Marse Chan! When I look' 'roun', de roan wuz layin' dyah by me, stone +dead, wid a cannon-ball gone 'mos' th'oo him, an' our men hed done +swep' dem on t' udder side from de top o' de hill. 'Twan' mo'n a minit, +de sorrel come gallupin' back wid his mane flyin', an' de rein hangin' +down on one side to his knee. 'Dyar!' says I, 'fo' Gord! I 'specks dey +done kill Marse Chan, an' I promised to tek care on him.' + +"I jumped up an' run over de bank, an' dyar wid a whole lot o' dead +men, an' some not dead yit, onder one o' de guns wid de fleg still in +he han', an' a bullet right th'oo he body, lay Marse Chan. I tu'n' 'im +over an' call 'im 'Marse Chan!' but 'twan' no use, he wuz done gone +home, sho' 'nuff. I pick' 'im up in my arms wid de fleg still in he +han's, an' toted 'im back jes' like I did dat day when he wuz a baby, +an' ole marster gin 'im to me in my arms, an' sez he could trus' me, +an' tell me to tek keer on 'im long ez he lived. I kyar'd 'im 'way off +de battlefiel' out de way o' de balls, an' I laid 'im down onder a big +tree tell I could git somebody to ketch de sorrel for me. He wuz +cotched arfter awhile, an' I hed some money, so I got some pine plank +an' made a coffin dat evenin', an' wrapt Marse Chan's body up in de +fleg, an' put 'im in de coffin; but I didn' nail de top on strong, +'cause I knowed ole missis wan' see 'im; an' I got a' ambulance an' +set out for home dat night. We reached dyar de nex' evenin', arfter +travellin' all dat night an' all nex' day. + +"Hit 'peared like somethin' hed tole ole missis we wuz comin' so; for +when we got home she wuz waitin' for us--done drest up in her best +Sunday-clo'es, an' stan'in' at de head o' de big steps, an' ole +marster settin' in his big cheer--ez we druv up de hill to'ds de +house, I drivin' de ambulance an' de sorrel leadin' 'long behine wid +de stirrups crost over de saddle. + +"She come down to de gate to meet us. We took de coffin out de +ambulance an' kyar'd it right into de big parlor wid de pictures in +it, whar dey use' to dance in ole times when Marse Chan wuz a +school-boy, an' Miss Anne Chahmb'lin use' to come over, an' go wid ole +missis into her chamber an' tek her things off. In dyar we laid de +coffin on two o' de cheers, an' ole missis nuvver said a wud; she jes' +looked so ole an' white. + +"When I had tell 'em all 'bout it, I tu'ned right 'roun' an' rid over +to Cun'l Chahmb'lin's, 'cause I knowed dat wuz what Marse Chan he'd +'a' wanted me to do. I didn' tell nobody whar I wuz gwine, 'cause yo' +know none on 'em hadn' nuvver speak to Miss Anne, not sence de duil, +an' dey didn' know 'bout de letter. + +"When I rid up in de yard, dyar wuz Miss Anne a-stan'in' on de poach +watchin' me ez I rid up. I tied my hoss to de fence, an' walked up de +parf. She knowed by de way I walked dyar wuz somethin' de motter, an' +she wuz mighty pale. I drapt my cap down on de een' o' de steps an' +went up. She nuvver opened her mouf; jes' stan' right still an' keep +her eyes on my face. Fust, I couldn' speak; den I cotch my voice, an' +I say, 'Marse Chan, he done got he furlough.' + +"Her face was mighty ashy, an' she sort o' shook, but she didn' fall. +She tu'ned roun' an' said, 'Git me de ker'ige!' Dat wuz all. + +"When de ker'ige come 'roun', she hed put on her bonnet, an' wuz +ready. Ez she got in, she sey to me, 'Hev yo' brought him home?' an' +we drove 'long, I ridin' behine. + +"When we got home, she got out, an' walked up de big walk--up to de +poach by herse'f. Ole missis hed done fin' de letter in Marse Chan's +pocket, wid de love in it, while I wuz 'way, an' she wuz a-waitin' on +de poach. Dey sey dat wuz de fust time ole missis cry when she find de +letter, an' dat she sut'n'y did cry over it, pintedly. + +"Well, seh, Miss Anne she walks right up de steps, mos' up to ole +missis stan'in' dyar on de poach, an' jes' falls right down mos' to +her, on her knees fust, an' den flat on her face right on de flo', +ketchin' at ole missis' dress wid her two han's--so. + +"Ole missis stood for 'bout a minit lookin' down at her, an' den she +drapt down on de flo' by her, an' took her in bofe her arms. + +"I couldn' see, I wuz cryin' so myse'f, an' ev'ybody wuz cryin'. But +dey went in arfter a while in de parlor, an' shet de do'; an' I hyard +'em say, Miss Anne she tuk de coffin in her arms an' kissed it, an' +kissed Marse Chan, an' call 'im by his name, an' her darlin', an' ole +missis lef' her cryin' in dyar tell some on 'em went in, an' found her +done faint on de flo'. + +"Judy (she's my wife) she tell me she heah Miss Anne when she axed ole +missis mout she wear mo'nin' fur 'im. I don' know how dat is; but when +we buried 'im nex' day, she wuz de one whar walked arfter de coffin, +holdin' ole marster, an' ole missis she walked next to 'em." + +"Well, we buried Marse Chan dyar in de ole grabeyard, wid de fleg +wrapped roun' 'im, an' he face lookin' like it did dat mawnin' down in +de low groun's, wid de new sun shinin' on it so peaceful. + +"Miss Anne she nuvver went home arfter dat; she stay wid ole marster +an' ole missis ez long ez dey lived. Dat warn' so mighty long, 'cause +ole marster he died dat fall, when dey wuz fallerin' fur wheat--I had +jes' married Judy den--an' ole missis she warn' long behine him. We +buried her by him next summer. Miss Anne she went in de hospitals +toreckly arfter ole missis died; an' jes' fo' Richmond fell she come +home sick wid de fever. Yo' nuvver would 'a' knowed her fur de same +ole Miss Anne. She wuz light ez a piece o' peth, an' so white, 'cep' +her eyes an' her sorrel hyar, an' she kep' on gittin' whiter an' +weaker. Judy she sut'n'y did nuss her faithful. But she nuvver got no +betterment! De fever an' Marse Chan's bein' kilt hed done strain her, +an' she died jes' 'fo' de folks wuz sot free. + +"So we buried Miss Anne right by Marse Chan, in a place whar ole +missis hed tole us to leave, an' dey's bofe on 'em sleep side by side +over in de ole grabeyard at home. + +"An' will yo' please tell me, marster? Dey tells me dat de Bible sey +dyar won' be marryin' nor givin' in marriage in heaven, but I don' +b'lieve it signifies dat--does yo'?" + +I gave him the comfort of my earnest belief in some other +interpretation, together with several spare "eighteen-pences," as he +called them, for which he seemed humbly grateful. And as I rode away I +heard him calling across the fence to his wife, who was standing in +the door of a small whitewashed cabin, near which we had been standing +for some time: + +"Judy, have Marse Chan's dawg got home?" + + + + +MR. BIXBY'S CHRISTMAS VISITOR. + +BY CHARLES S. GAGE. + +_Appleton's Journal, December 30, 1871._ + + +At the head of the first flight of stairs, and on opposite sides of +the landing, were the respective rooms of Mr. Bixby and Mr. Bangs. The +house in which they lived stood in a quiet and retired street on the +lower and western side of New York, a locality which was once +inhabited by fashionable families, afterward by old-fashioned +families, and at the time of our story by the keepers of +boarding-houses for single men. + +Mr. Henry Bixby and Mr. Alfred Bangs were single men--Mr. Bangs, the +wine-merchant, because he liked wine and song so well that he never +had leisure to think of women, because he was fat, because he was red +in the face, and, if more reasons are necessary, because his fingers +were chubby and short. For twenty years, day by day, Mr. Bangs had +been absorbed in business. For twenty years, night after night, it +had been his custom to entertain his friends at his apartment in not a +very quiet way. He was so happy, and bulbous, and jolly, that he had +never thought of marriage. Yet he might easily have been mistaken by +the casual observer for a family man. He wore a white vest when it +wasn't too cold; his linen was painfully plain. There was not a sign +of jewelry about him. He wore low shoes, which he tied with a ribbon. +This was Mr. Bangs. + +Not quite so old in years as the opposite lodger was Mr. Bixby, known +to his few friends as a genial philosopher and poet, to the public as +the literary critic of one of the great daily papers. He might have +been thirty-five years of age, but, as he had lived more for others +than for himself, as he had made a study and not a pleasure of life, +his gray eyes and the other features of his face suggested to whoever +met him a longer past. There was something about him that caused men +to wonder, not what he was, but what he had been. + +For ten years Mr. Bangs and Mr. Bixby had been inmates of the house +together. Mr. Bangs had been there longer. The present landlady had +received as a legacy from her predecessor, who did not care to take +him away, Mr. Bangs. As she said, she made a present of Bangs. + +Long as they had known each other, the two lodgers were only +acquaintances. Sometimes, on a Sunday afternoon, they would walk out +in company, stroll down to the Battery, and there smoke their cigars +and watch the ships, but beyond this point of sociability, which +neither enjoyed, there was nothing more. Never had Bixby read Bangs +any poem he had made, nor did ever Bangs invite Bixby to meet his +convivial friends of an evening to play whist or to partake of his +mulled ale. In fact, Mr. Bixby had been often and with great +enthusiasm voted an unsocial fellow by the cronies of Mr. Bangs, but +he rose somewhat in their estimation when they were informed that he +had consented to exchange rooms with their host. + +"He isn't such a grouty fellow, after all," said Bangs. "I told him +that we were too near the street, and that some one had been +complaining to the landlady of our singing. He didn't even stop to +think, but agreed to do it at once. He thought the light would be +better here. Now, fellows, I call that doing the fair thing." + +And the speech of Mr. Bangs was applauded. + +It was the morning of the day before Christmas that the change was +effected. In the closet where had been the bottles, the decanters, +glasses, and pickle-jars of the late occupant, Mr. Bixby had arranged +shelves, and filled them with his books. Over the mantel, from which +Mr. Bangs had taken away a colored print of a bull-dog in an overcoat, +Mr. Bixby hung a fine engraving of the Madonna, and on the mantel +itself he had placed his clock. It was a small French clock under a +crystal, so that its rapidly-swinging pendulum could be easily seen. +All bachelors, however negligent of their surroundings, have some one +hobby among articles of furniture. It may be an easy-chair, or a +book-case, or a chandelier--there is one thing that must be the best +of its kind. There could be no doubt, from the care with which Mr. +Bixby placed his clock in its position, and from time to time compared +it with his watch, that this was his hobby. It had the three +requisites which he demanded in a clock. It kept correct time without +failing, its pendulum swung rapidly, and was plainly visible. Time +past was the happiness of Mr. Bixby, and this clock told him +continually that all was being done that could be done to induce the +hours of every day to go over to the majority. He depended upon this +clock. He was surer of its mechanism than of that of his own heart. + +What with hanging his pictures and arranging his furniture, and with +many other little things which had to be done, Mr. Bixby was busily +employed all day. But the task was not an unpleasant one. His heart +was in the work, for there was hardly an object in the room not nearly +associated with some event in his past life. After carefully brushing +the dust from an old writing-desk, which had evidently once belonged +to a lady, he placed it upon the rug in front of the fire. Only on +Christmas-eves was this desk opened. + +"It is curious," thought Mr. Bixby, "that I should have moved this +day, of all days in the year!" + +Often in his work he thought of stopping to take from the desk an old +packet of letters, and reading them once more. But it was not yet +time, and, moreover, he was continually interrupted. First, there came +some one to his door with "Two dozen Congress-water for Mr. Bangs;" +then one with "Mr. Bangs's boots," and another to tell Mr. Bangs that +"the pup was big enough to take away." Finally, came Bangs himself, to +complain of like interruptions, and to bid him good-by. + +"Here is some manuscript a boy left for you. You will have to attend +both doors now. I am off to spend Christmas. We are going to have a +Tom-and-Jerry party in Jersey. You know-- + + "'The Tom-and-Jerry days have come, the happiest in the year!' + +"Good rendering, eh? That isn't all: + + "'I only wish to live till the juleps come again!'" + +And Mr. Bangs laughed uproariously, even after he had said, "Good-by," +and shut the door behind him. + +"What a personification of Bacchus!" thought Mr. Bixby-- + + "'Ever laughing, ever young.' + +"He will be young as long as he lives, but I am afraid that won't be +long. If ever there was a man in immediate danger of apoplexy, Bangs +is that man." + +It was after dinner when Mr. Bixby lighted his drop-light and sat down +before the fire. He pushed an ottoman in front of him, on which to +rest his feet, which he had comfortably encased in his slippers. But +the shadows in his new room did not please him. He could hardly see +the clock on the mantel. The Madonna above was completely in the +shade. So he lighted the chandelier above and sat down again, hoping +that no friend, either of his own or of Mr. Bangs, would interrupt +him. The desk was open at his feet. The package of letters lay near +him on the table. He placed his hand upon them, but let it rest there. +The hour had not quite arrived when he would read them. He fell again +into the reveries of the day. He lingered over the thoughts of his +better life ere he opened the packet which told of its end. For +the last ten years he had labored without ambition, and had been +successful. His name was well known as a journalist, and his +salary was ample. Before that time he had striven ambitiously, but +fruitlessly, patiently, but as in a quicksand, until, on a day, he had +none to strive for but himself, and then success had come. Since noon, +seven hours and twenty-nine minutes, said the clock before him. His +anniversary was near. Mr. Bixby drew the letters near him, and untied +the package. Just then there came a knock at his door, and, before he +had determined whether or not he should say, "Come in," the door +opened, and an elderly gentleman stepped into the apartment. Quietly +he came in. There was no sound attending his entrance except the +knock. Mr. Bixby, looking up, saw a man of more than ordinary height, +with countenance rigid and puritanical in expression, as though the +mind which had formed it was one influenced more by justice than +mercy. His eyes were concealed by a pair of colored spectacles, but +these, as they caught and reflected the light, were brighter and more +startling than any eyes could have been. He was dressed in a long +surtout, which he wore closely buttoned, high dickey, and high +black-silk stock, which covered his throat to his chin. His iron-gray +hair was brushed somewhat pompously backward over his forehead, and +his whole effect was that of a gentleman of the generation which wore +bell-crowned hats and carried enormous canes with tassels. But what +attracted Mr. Bixby's particular attention were the wrinkles of his +face. These were in all places where wrinkles should not be. One ran +straight through the centre of his forehead, continuing the line of +the nose upward to the hair. Two others, starting from the bridge of +the nose, ran diagonally down to the nostrils. He was close-shaven, +and his lips were straight and thin. These peculiarities of his +visitor Mr. Bixby had barely time to mark when the gentleman said: + +"Ah, Mr. Bangs, I am glad to find you in!" + +Mr. Bixby never in his life more desired to be alone, and yet there +was something in this old man which so attracted him that he could not +correct his mistake. He felt a sudden fascination and desire to know +more of him. Bangs was away and could not be seen. The gentleman could +not be very well acquainted with Bangs, very probably never had seen +him, or he would not have made such an error. But nothing but the +influence which seemed to proceed from his visitor could have induced +Mr. Bixby to answer as he did. + +"Thank you, sir. Pray, take this chair." + +As he said this, he arose and wheeled an easy-chair to the other side +of the table. + +The elderly gentleman sat down. + +"You have a very cheerful apartment here, Mr. Bangs." + +"Yes. I always like to be comfortable." + +"Of course," said the elderly gentleman. + +"Will you remove your overcoat, sir?" asked Mr. Bixby, and immediately +repented it. + +"Oh, no, I shall stop but a moment." + +There was an interval of silence. A block of coal broke open in the +grate and fell apart. A jet of gas burst forth and burned, then +sputtered and went out. Mr. Bixby wondered on what business he had +come, and why he did not open the subject at once, if he was only +intending to stop a moment. + +"It is very disagreeable weather out," said the man with the pompous +forelock, interrupting his reflections. + +"Snowing?" asked Bixby. + +"No--sleet." + +"Very unpleasant to have far to go such a night," suggested Bixby, +who could think of nothing better to say. + +"Not at all," responded the old gentleman, authoritatively. + +Bixby was silent again. + +The old gentleman, leaning with his elbow on the table, began again. + +"You like to live well, Mr. Bangs?" + +"I try to," answered Mr. Bixby. + +"Yes." + +"This must be some relative of Bangs come to deliver him a lecture on +his course of life. Why don't he broach his advice at once?" thought +Mr. Bixby. The visitor here pulled a glove from his right hand, ran +his fingers through his hair, and then, in a more business-like tone, +spoke again: + +"Although a stranger to you personally, Mr. Bangs, I have always taken +a great interest in your family. Mr. Bangs, I knew your father." + +"Indeed! I never heard him speak--" + +"No, I dare say; it was near the end of his life. I was near by, and +rendered him some assistance, when he died suddenly of apoplexy. He +was not so much of a man as your grandfather." + +"Was he not?" asked Mr. Bixby, musingly. He was thinking how old the +grandfather of his friend Bangs must have been. + +"No," continued the elderly gentleman; "but even his judgment I never +considered equal to that of your great-grandfather." + +"Here is, indeed, a friend--a friend of the family. Why is Mr. Bangs +away?" thought Mr. Bixby, and he bent his head a little, and looked +under the drop-light, to get a view of his visitor. He saw only the +reflection on his spectacles, and drew back suddenly, for fear of +being detected. + +"You like a good song, I have heard, Mr. Bangs," came from the other +side of the table. "Have you any favorite?" + +Mr. Bixby did not understand this at all. The question puzzled him. +Should he as Bangs fall in the estimation of some relative if he +admitted the fact? Or did his visitor intend to sing? However, he felt +compelled to be frank, so he said: + +"Oh, yes; I like a good song. Some of the Scotch ballads please me +most. There is 'The Land o' the Leal.'" + +"A very fine song, sir. A very fine song. It is a credit to any man to +like that song." + +The old gentleman was excited. Mr. Bixby was just congratulating +himself on having given Bangs a lift, when his thoughts were turned +into an altogether new channel by the following remark: + +"It was my impression, however, that your taste ran rather in the way +of drinking-songs. I should have thought now you would have said, 'The +Coal-Black Wine.'" + +There was something in the tone with which this was uttered that made +Mr. Bixby shudder. It ran through his mind that this man was some +enemy of Bangs--that he was dangerous. Startled by this sudden +suspicion, tremblingly he again peered under the shade. The wrinkle +in the line of the frontal suture was more deeply indented. The light +on the spectacles was brighter than ever. + +"Mr. Bangs, I called on your opposite neighbor, Mr. Bixby, to-night. I +knocked on the door, but he was away." + +"Yes," said Mr. Bixby, somewhat confused. He wished that Bangs had +stayed at home, and determined to end the interview as soon as +possible. + +"Yes. I am sorry. I had a positive appointment with him. I am a great +friend of his." + +"Does he know you?" + +"Oh, no; we have never met personally that he remembers. I am an old +friend of the family. He suffers from the heart-disease, and has been +expecting me." + +"Oh, you are a physician?" + +"Yes, sir. I attended his father at his last illness." + +Mr. Bixby's heart began to beat rapidly. His mind became equally +active, and, although he had no experience to be guided by, he began +to suspect the nature of this man's business with Bangs. He almost +determined to discover himself, but the letters were yet unread. If +that were only done, he would do anything his visitor might request. +Recalling the old gentleman's last words, he said, at last, calmly: + +"And his mother?" + +"Yes, and his mother." + +The old man's voice assumed almost a kindly tone. + +"He is, indeed, a friend of my family," thought Mr. Bixby; and then he +started, for fear he might have spoken aloud. + +His eyes fell upon the packet of letters. He must read them. He must +end the interview. The old doctor must have noticed Mr. Bixby's eyes, +with the tears rising in them, as he tenderly touched the letters one +by one, for it was with a voice very gentle and low that he spoke +again. + +"I attended once a very dear friend of his. It must be quite ten years +ago now. Her name was Margaret. I think she loved him, for I +remember--yes--it was one Christmas-eve, she said, and after that she +said no more, 'Has Harry come?'" + +Mr. Bixby could bear no more. His sobs were striving for utterance. +His fingers grasped the strong oak arms of his chair. It was only the +thought of the letters which gave him strength to say: + +"I am sorry, sir. You mistake me. I must ask you to leave me. You may +come again. I shall be here, but I have something I would do to-night. +I have given you much of my time. It is already late." + +"It is you who mistake, Mr. Bangs. But I am going now. I said I would +stop but a moment. I have kept my promise, as you will see by your +clock." + +Before his hands fell listless from the arms of the chair--before his +lips parted, but not for speech--ay, just before that quick, strong +pain in his heart, Mr. Bixby saw on the white dial the black hands yet +pointing to the seven hours and the twenty-nine minutes, the pendulum +moveless, still, half-way on the upward journey of the arc. + +The elderly gentleman arose, walked round the table, and smiled, +himself, as he saw a smile of perfected happiness on the face of the +dead, when so lately sorrow itself had been pictured on the face of +the living. + +"It was hard to deceive him, but he will thank me now," said he of the +gray locks and wrinkled visage. "And here are the letters which he +does not need." + +Had the old man no more appointments to keep? For he took up one of +the letters and opened it. A lock of golden hair fell unnoticed to the +floor. Then he read silently, and, after a while, aloud: + + "I hope you will come and see me on Christmas-eve, for I am + not well. I long for you more than I can say. You must be + tired with your struggle in the great city, and need rest. O + Harry! come and comfort her that loves you, as you well + know. + + "MARGARET." + +The bells of Trinity commenced ringing. + +"He was tired, and he needed rest," said Death. + + + + +ELI. + +BY C. H. WHITE. + +_Century Magazine, November, 1881._ + + + I. + +Under a boat, high and dry, at low tide, on the beach, John Wood was +seated in the sand, sheltered from the sun in the boat's shadow, +absorbed in the laying on of verdigris. The dull, worn color was +rapidly giving place to a brilliant, shining green. Occasionally a +scraper, which lay by, was taken up to remove the last trace of a +barnacle. + +It was Wood's boat, but he was not a boatman; he painted cleverly, but +he was not a painter. He kept the brown store under the elms of the +main street, now hot and still, where at this moment his blushing +sister was captivating the heart of an awkward farmer's boy, as she +sold him a pair of striped suspenders. + +As the church-clock struck the last of twelve decided blows, three +children came rushing out of the house on the bank above the beach. It +was one of those deceptive New England cottages, weather-worn without, +but bright and bountifully home-like within--with its trim parlor, +proud of a cabinet organ; with its front hall, now cooled by the light +sea-breeze drifting through the blind-door, where a tall clock issued +its monotonous call to a siesta on the rattan lounge; with its spare +room, open now, opposite the parlor, and now, too, drawing in the salt +air through close-shut blinds, in anticipation of the joyful arrival +this evening of Sister Sarah, with her little brood, from the city. + +The children scampered across the road, and then the eldest hushed the +others and sent a little brother ahead to steal, barefoot, along the +shining sea-weed to his father. + +The plotted surprise appeared to succeed completely. The painter was +seized by the ears from behind, and captured. + +"Guess who's here, or you can't get up," said the infant captor. + +"It's Napoleon Bonaparte; don't joggle," said his father, running a +brush steadily along the water-line. + +"No! no! no!" with shouts of laughter from the whole attacking party. + +"Then it's Captain Ezekiel?" + +This excited great merriment: Captain Ezekiel was an aged, purblind +man, who leaned on a cane. + +After attempts to identify the invader--with the tax-collector come +for taxes, then with the elderly minister making a pastoral call, with +the formal schoolmaster, and with Samuel J. Tilden--the victim reached +over his shoulder, and, seizing the assailant by a handful of calico +jacket, brought him around, squirming, before him. + +"Now," he said, "I'll give you a coat of verdigris." + +(Great applause from the reserve force behind.) + +"I suppose Mother sent you to say dinner's ready," said the father, +rising and surveying the green bottom of the boat. "I must eat quick, +so as to do the other side before half-flood." + +And with a child on each shoulder, and the third pushing him from +behind with her head, he marched toward the vine-covered kitchen, +where, between two opposite netted doors, the table was trimly set. + +"Father, you look like a mermaid, with your green hands," said his +wife, laughing, as she handed him the spirits of turpentine. "A woman +could paint that boat, in a light dress, and not get a spot on her." + +He smiled good-naturedly: he never spoke much. + +"I guess Louise won't have much trade to-day," said his wife, as they +all sat down; "it's so hot in the sun that everybody'll wait till +night. But she has her tatting-work to do, and she's got a book, too, +that she wanted to finish." + +Her husband nodded, and ate away. + +"Oh, can't we go up street and see her, this afternoon?" said one of +the children. + +"Who can that be?" said the mother, as an elderly, +half-official-looking man stopped his horse at the front gate and +alighted. The man left the horse unchecked to browse by the road-side, +and came to the door. + +"Oh, it's you, Captain Nourse," said Wood, rising to open the netting +door, and holding out his hand. "Come to summons me as a witness in +something about the bank case, I suppose. Let me introduce Captain +Nourse, Mary," he said, "deputy sheriff. Sit down, Captain, and have +some dinner with us." + +"No, I guess I won't set," said the captain. "I cal'lated not to eat +till I got home, in the middle o' the arternoon. No, I'll set down in +eye-shot of the mare, and read the paper while you eat." + +"I hope they don't want me to testify anywhere to-day," said Wood; +"because my boat's half verdigris'd, and I want to finish her this +afternoon." + +"No testimony to-day," said the captain. "Hi! hi! Kitty!" he called to +the mare, as she began to meander across the road; and he went out to +a tree by the front fence, and sat down on a green bench, beside a +work-basket and a half-finished child's dress, and read the country +paper which he had taken from the office as he came along. + +After dinner Wood went out bare-headed, and leaned on the fence by the +captain. His wife stood just inside the door, looking out at them. + +The "bank case" was the great sensation of the town, and Wood was one +of the main witnesses, for he had been taking the place of the absent +cashier when the safe was broken open and rifled, to the widespread +distress of depositors and stock-holders and the ruin of Hon. Edward +Clark, the president. Wood had locked the safe on the afternoon before +the eventful night, and had carried home the key with him, and he was +to testify to the contents of the safe as he had left it. + +"I guess they're glad they've got such a witness as John," said his +wife to herself, as she looked at him fondly, "and I guess they think +there won't be much doubt about what he says." + +"Well, Captain," said Wood, jocosely, breaking a spear of grass to +bits in his fingers, "I didn't know but you'd come to arrest me." + +The captain calmly smiled as only a man can smile who has been +accosted with the same humorous remark a dozen times a day for twenty +years. He folded his paper carefully, put it in his pocket, took off +his spectacles and put them in their silver case, took a red silk +handkerchief from his hat, wiped his face, and put the handkerchief +back. Then he said, shortly: + +"That's what I _have_ come for." + +Wood, still leaning on the fence, looked at him, and said nothing. + +"That's just what I've come for," said Captain Nourse. "I've got to +arrest you; here's the warrant." And he handed it to him. + +"What does this mean?" said Wood. "I can't make head nor tail of +this." + +"Well," said the captain, "the long and short is: these high-toned +detectives that they've had down from town, seein' as our own force +wasn't good enough, allow that the safe was unlocked with a key, in +due form, and then the lock was broke afterward, to look as if it had +been forced open. They've had the foreman of the safe-men down, too, +and he says the same thing. Naturally, the argument is: there were +only two keys in existence; one was safe with the president of the +bank, and is about all he's got to show out of forty years' savings; +the only other one you had: consequently it heaves it on to you." + +"I see," said Wood. "I will go with you. Do you want to come into the +house with me while I get my coat?" + +"Well, I suppose I must keep you in sight--now, you know." + +And they went into the house. + +"Mary," said her husband, "the folks that lost by Clark when the bank +broke have been at him until he's felt obliged to pitch on somebody, +and he's pitched on me; and Captain Nourse has come to arrest me. I +shall get bail before long." + +She said nothing, and did not shed a tear till he was gone. + +But then---- + + + II. + +Wide wastes of salt marsh to the right, imprisoning the upland +with a vain promise of infinite liberty, and, between low, distant +sand-hills, a rim of sea. Stretches of pine woods behind, shutting in +from the great outer world, and soon to darken into evening gloom. +Ploughed fields and elm-dotted pastures to the left, and birch-lined +roads leading by white farm-houses to the village, all speaking +of cheer and freedom to the prosperous and the happy, but to the +unfortunate and the indebted, of meshes invisible but strong as steel. +But, before, no lonesome marshes, no desolate forest, no farm or +village street, but the free blue ocean, rolling and tumbling still +from the force of an expended gale. + +In the open door-way of a little cottage, warmed by the soft slanting +rays of the September sun, a rough man, burnt and freckled, was +sitting, at his feet a net, engaged upon some handiwork which two +little girls were watching. Close by him lay a setter, his nose +between his paws. Occasionally the man raised his eyes to scan the +sea. + +"There's Joel," he said, "comin' in around the Bar. Not much air +stirrin' now!" + +Then he turned to his work again. + +"First, you go _so_ fash'," he said to the children, as he drew a +thread; "then you go _so_ fash'." + +And as he worked he made a great show of labor, much to their +diversion. + +But the sight of Joel's broad white sail had not brought pleasant +thoughts to his mind. For Joel had hailed him, off the Shoal, the +afternoon before, and had obligingly offered to buy his fish, right +there, and so let him go directly home, omitting to mention that +sudden jump of price due to an empty market. + +"Wonder what poor man he's took a dollar out of to-day! Well, I s'pose +it's all right: those that's got money, want money." + +"What be you, Eli--ganging on hooks?" said Aunt Patience, as she +tip-toed into the kitchen behind him, from his wife's sick-room, and +softly closed the door after her. + +"No," said the elder of the children; "he's mending our stockings, and +showing me how." + +"Well, you do have a hard time, don't you?" said Aunt Patience, +looking down over his shoulder; "to slave and tug and scrape to get a +house over your head, and then to have to turn square 'round, and stay +to home with a sick woman, and eat all into it with mortgages!" + +"Oh, well," he said, "we'll fetch, somehow." + +Aunt Patience went to the glass, and holding a black pin in her mouth, +carefully tied the strings of her sun-bonnet. + +"Anyway," she says, "you take it good-natured. Though if there is one +thing that's harder than another, it is to be good-natured all the +time, without being aggravating. I have known men that was so awfully +good-natured that they was harder to live with than if they was +cross!" + +And without specifying further, she opened her plaid parasol, and +stepped out at the porch. + + * * * * * + +Though, on this quiet afternoon of Saturday, the peace of the +approaching Sabbath seemed already brooding over the little dwelling, +peace had not lent her hand to the building of the home. Every foot of +land, every shingle, every nail, had been wrung from the reluctant +sea. Every voyage had contributed something. It was a great day when +Eli was able to buy the land. Then, between two voyages, he dug a +cellar and laid a foundation; then he saved enough to build the main +part of the cottage and to finish the front room, lending his own hand +to the work. Then he used to get letters at every port, telling of +progress--how Lizzie, his wife, had adorned the front room with a +bright nine-penny paper, of which a little piece was inclosed, which +he kept as a sort of charm about him and exhibited to his friends; how +she and her little brother had lathed the entry and the kitchen, and +how they had set out blackberry vines from the woods. Then another +letter told of a surprise awaiting him on his return; and, in due +time, coming home as third mate from Hong Kong to a seaman's +tumultuous welcome, he had found that a great, good-natured mason, +with whose sick child his wife had watched, night after night, had +appeared one day with lime and hair and sand, and in white raiment, +and had plastered the entry and the kitchen, and finished a room +upstairs. + +And so, for years, at home and on the sea, at New York, and at +Valparaiso, and in the Straits of Malacca, the little house and the +little family within it had grown into the fibre of Eli's heart. +Nothing had given him more delight than to meet, in the strange +streets of Calcutta or before the Mosque of Omar, some practical +Yankee from Stonington or Machias, and, whittling, to discuss with +him, among the turbans of the Orient, the comparative value of shaved +and of sawed shingles, or the economy of "Swedes-iron" nails, and to +go over with him the estimates and plans which he had worked out in +his head under all the constellations of the skies. + + * * * * * + +The supper things were cleared away. The children had said good-night +and gone to bed, and Eli had been sitting for an hour by his wife's +bedside. He had had to tax his patience and ingenuity heavily during +the long months that she had lain there to entertain her for a little +while in the evening, after his hard, wet day's work. He had been +talking now of the coming week, when he was to serve upon the jury in +the adjoining county-town. + +"I cal'late I can come home about every night," he said, "and it'll be +quite a change, at any rate." + +"But you don't seem so cheerful about it as I counted you would be," +said his wife. "Are you afraid you'll have to be on the bank-case?" + +"Not much!" he answered. "No trouble 'n that case! Jury won't leave +their seats. These city fellers'll find they've bit off more'n they +can chew when they try to figure out John Wood done that. I only hope +I'll have the luck to be on that case--all hands on the jury whisper +together a minute, and then clear him, right on the spot, and then +shake hands with him all 'round!" + +"But something is worrying you," she said. "What is it? You have +looked it since noon." + +"Oh, nothin'," he replied--"only George Cahoon came up to-noon to say +that he was goin' West next week, and that he would have to have that +money he let me have a while ago. And where to get it--I don't know." + + + III. + +The court-room was packed. John Wood's trial was drawing to its close. +Eli was on the jury. Some one had advised the prosecuting attorney, in +a whisper, to challenge him, but he had shaken his head and said: + +"Oh, I couldn't afford to challenge him for that; it would only leak +out, and set the jury against me. I'll risk his standing out against +this evidence." + +The trial had been short. It had been shown how the little building +of the bank had been entered. Skilled locksmiths from the city had +testified that the safe was opened with a key, and that the lock was +broken afterward, from the inside--plainly to raise the theory of a +forcible entry by strangers. + +It had been proved that the only key in existence, not counting that +kept by the president, was in the possession of Wood, who was filling, +for a few days, the place of the cashier--the president's brother--in +his absence. It had been shown that Wood was met, at one o'clock of +the night in question, crossing the fields toward his home, from the +direction of the bank, with a large wicker basket slung over his +shoulders, returning, as he had said, from eel-spearing in Harlow's +Creek; and there was other circumstantial evidence. + +Mr. Clark, the president of the bank, had won the sympathy of every +one by the modest way in which, with eye-glasses in hand, he had +testified to the particulars of the loss which had left him penniless, +and had ruined others whose little all was in his hands. And then, in +reply to the formal question, he had testified, amid roars of laughter +from the court-room, that it was not he who robbed the safe. At this, +even the judge and Wood's lawyer had not restrained a smile. + +This had left the guilt with Wood. His lawyer, an inexperienced young +attorney--who had done more or less business for the bank, and would +hardly have ventured to defend this case but that the president had +kindly expressed his entire willingness that he should do so--had, of +course, not thought it worthwhile to cross-examine Mr. Clark, and had +directed his whole argument against the theory that the safe had been +opened with a key, and not by strangers. But he had felt all through +that, as a man politely remarked to him when he finished, he was only +butting his "head ag'in a stone wall." + +And while he was arguing, a jolly-looking old lawyer had written, in +the fly-leaf of a law-book on his knee, and passed with a wink to a +young man near him who had that very morning been admitted to the bar, +these lines: + + "When callow Blackstones soar too high, + Quit common-sense, and reckless fly, + Soon, Icarus-like, they headlong fall, + And down come client, case, and all." + +The district-attorney had not thought it worth while to expend much +strength upon his closing argument; but being a jovial stump-speaker, +of a wide reputation within narrow limits, he had not been able to +refrain from making merry over Wood's statement that the basket which +he had been seen bearing home, on the eventful night, was a basket of +eels. + +"Fine eels those, gentlemen! We have seen gold-fish and silver-fish, +but golden eels are first discovered by this defendant. The apostle, +in Holy Writ, caught a fish with a coin in its mouth; but this man +leaves the apostle in the dim distance when he finds eels that are +all money. No storied fisherman of Bagdad, catching enchanted princes +disguised as fishes in the sea, ever hooked such a treasure as this +defendant hooked when he hooked that basket of eels! [Rustling +appreciation of the pun among the jury.] If a squirming, twisting, +winding, wriggling eel, gentlemen, can be said at any given moment to +have a back, we may distinguish this new-found species as the +green-back eel. It is a common saying that no man can hold an eel and +remain a Christian. I should like to have viewed the pious equanimity +of this church-member when he laid his hands on that whole bed of +eels. In happy, barefoot boyhood, gentlemen, we used to find +mud-turtles marked with initials or devices cut in their shells; but +what must have been our friend's surprise to find, in the muddy bed of +Harlow's Creek, eels marked with a steel-engraving of the landing of +Columbus, and the signature of the Register of the Treasury! I hear +that a corporation is now being formed by the title of The Harlow's +Creek Greenback National Bank-bill Eel-fishing Company, to follow up, +with seines and spears, our worthy friend's discovery! I learn that +the news of this rich placer has spread to the golden mountains of the +West, and that the exhausted intellects which have been reduced to +such names for their mines as 'The Tombstone,' 'The Red Dog,' the +'Mrs. E. J. Parkhurst,' are likely now to flood us with prospectuses +of the 'Eel Mine,' 'The Flat Eel,' 'The Double Eel,' and then, when +they get ready to burst upon confiding friends, 'The Consolidated +Eels.'" + +It takes but little to make a school or a court-room laugh, and the +speech had appeared to give a good deal of amusement to the listeners. + +To all? + +Did it amuse that man who sat, with folded arms, harsh and rigid, at +the dock? Did it divert that white-faced woman, cowering in a corner, +listening as in a dream? + + * * * * * + +The judge now charged the jury briefly. It was unnecessary for him, he +said, to recapitulate evidence of so simple a character. The chief +question for the jury was as to the credibility of the witnesses. If +the witnesses for the prosecution were truthful and were not mistaken, +the inference of guilt seemed inevitable; this the defendant's counsel +had conceded. The defendant had proved a good reputation; upon that +point there was only this to be said: that, while such evidence was +entitled to weight, yet, on the other hand, crimes involving a breach +of trust could, from their very nature, be committed only by persons +whose good reputations secured them positions of trust. + + * * * * * + +The jury-room had evidently not been furnished by a ring. There was a +long table for debate, twelve hard chairs for repose, twelve spittoons +for luxury, and a clock. + +The jury sat in silence for a few moments, as old Captain Nourse, who +had them in his keeping, and eyed them as if he was afraid that he +might lose one of them in a crack and be held accountable on his bond, +rattled away at the unruly lock. Looking at them then, you would have +seen faces all of a New England cast but one. There was a tall, +powerful negro called George Washington, a man well known in this +county town, to which he had come, as driftwood from the storm of war, +in '65. Some of the "boys" had heard him, in a great prayer-meeting in +Washington--a city which he always spoke of as his "namesake"--at the +time of the great review, say, in his strong voice, with that pathetic +quaver in it: "Like as de parched an' weary traveller hangs his harp +upon de winder, an' sighs for oysters in de desert, so I longs to res' +my soul an' my foot in Mass'chusetts;" and they were so delighted with +him that they invited him on the spot to go home with them, and took +up a collection to pay his fare, and so he was a public character. As +for his occupation--when the census-taker, with a wink to the boys in +the store, had asked him what it was, he had said, in that same odd +tone: "Putties up glass a little--white-washes a little--" and, when +the man had made a show of writing all that down, "preaches a little." +He might have said "preaches a big," for you could hear him half a +mile away. + +The foreman was a retired sea-captain. "Good cap'n--Cap'n Thomas," +one of his neighbors had said of him. "Allers gits good ships--never +hez to go huntin' 'round for a vessel. But it is astonishin' what +differences they is! Now there's Cap'n A. K. P. Bassett, down to the +West Harbor. You let it git 'round that Cap'n A. K. P. is goin' off on +a Chiny voyage, and you'll see half a dozen old shays to onct, hitched +all along his fence of an arternoon, and wimmen inside the house, to +git Cap'n A. K. P. to take their boys. But you let Cap'n Thomas give +out that he wants boys, and he hez to glean 'em--from the poor-house, +and from step-mothers, and where he can: the wimmen knows! Still," he +added, "Cap'n Thomas's a good cap'n. I've nothin' to say ag'in him. +He's smart!" + + * * * * * + +"Gentlemen," said the foreman, when the officer, at last, had securely +locked them in, "shall we go through the formality of a ballot? If the +case were a less serious one, we might have rendered a verdict in our +seats." + +"What's the use foolin' 'round ballotin'?" said a thick-set butcher. +"Ain't we all o' one mind?" + +"It is for you to say, gentlemen," said the foreman. "I shouldn't want +to have it go abroad that we had not acted formally, if there was any +one disposed to cavil." + +"Mr. Speaker," said George Washington, rising and standing in the +attitude of Webster, "I rises to appoint to order. We took ballast in +de prior cases, and why make flesh of one man an' a fowl of another?" + + +"Very well," said the foreman, a trifle sharply. "'The longest way +round is the shortest way home.'" + +Twelve slips of paper were handed out, to be indorsed guilty, "for +form." They were collected in a hat and the foreman told them +over--"just for form." "'Guilty,' 'guilty,' 'guilty,' 'guilty';--wait +a minute," he said, "here is a mistake. Here is one 'not +guilty'--whose is this?" + +There was a pause. + +"Whose is it?" said the foreman, sharply. + +Eli turned a little red. + +"It's mine," he said. + +"Do you mean it?" said the foreman. + +"Of course I mean it," he answered. + +"Whew!" whistled the foreman. "Very well, sir; we'll have an +understanding, then. This case is proved to the satisfaction of every +man who heard it, I may safely say, but one. Will that one please +state the grounds of his opinion?" + +"I ain't no talker," said Eli, "but I ain't satisfied he's +guilty--that's all." + +"Don't you believe the witnesses?" + +"Mostly." + +"Which one don't you believe?" + +"I can't say. I don't believe he's guilty." + +"Is there one that you think lied?" + +No answer. + +"Now it seems to me----" said a third juryman. + +"One thing at a time, gentlemen," said the foreman. "Let us wait for +an answer from Mr. Smith. Is there any one that you think lied? We +will wait, gentlemen, for an answer." + +There was a long pause. The trial seemed to Eli Smith to have shifted +from the court to this shabby room, and he was now the culprit. + +All waited for him; all eyes were fixed upon him. + +The clock ticked loud! Eli counted the seconds. He knew the +determination of the foreman. + +The silence became intense. + +"I want to say my say," said a short man in a pea-jacket--a retired +San Francisco pilot, named Eldridge. "I entertain no doubt the man is +guilty. At the same time, I allow for differences of opinion. I don't +know this man that's voted 'not guilty,' but he seems to be a +well-meaning man. I don't know his reasons; probably he don't +understand the case. I should like to have the foreman tell the +evidence over, so as if he don't see it clear, he can ask questions, +and we can explain." + +"I second de motion," said George Washington. + +There was a general rustle of approval. + +"I move it," said the pilot, encouraged. + +"Very well, Mr. Eldridge," said the foreman. "If there is no +objection, I will state the evidence, and if there is any loop-hole, I +will trouble Mr. Smith to suggest it as I go along," and he proceeded +to give a summary of the testimony, with homely force. + +"Now, sir?" he said, when he had finished. + +"I move for another ballot," said Mr. Eldridge. + +The result was the same. Eli had voted "not guilty." + +"Mr. Smith," said the foreman, "this must be settled in some way. This +is no child's play. You can't keep eleven men here, trifling with +them, giving no pretence of a reason." + +"I haven't any reasons, only that I don't believe he's guilty," said +Eli. "I'm not goin' to vote a man into states-prison, when I don't +believe he done it," and he rose and walked to the window, and looked +out. It was low tide. There was a broad stretch of mud in the +distance, covered with boats lying over disconsolate. A driving storm +had emptied the streets. He beat upon the rain-dashed glass a moment +with his fingers, and then he sat down again. + +"Well, sir," said the foreman, "this is singular conduct. What do you +propose to do?" + +Silence. + +"I suppose you realize that the rest of us are pretty rapidly forming +a conclusion on this matter," said the foreman. + +"Come! come!" said Mr. Eldridge; "don't be quite so hard on him, +Captain. Now, Mr. Smith," he said, standing up with his hands in his +coat-pockets, and looking at Eli, "we know that there often is crooked +sticks on juries, that hold out alone--that's to be expected; but they +always argue, and stand to it the rest are fools, and all that. Now, +all is, we don't see why you don't sort of argue, if you've got +reasons satisfactory to you. Come, now," he added, walking up to Eli, +and resting one foot on the seat of his chair, "why don't you tell it +over? and if we're wrong, I'm ready to join you." + +Eli looked up at him. + +"Didn't you ever know," he said, "of a man's takin' a cat off, to +lose, that his little girl didn't want drownded, and leavin' him +ashore, twenty or thirty miles, bee-line, from home, and that cat's +bein' back again the next day, purrin' 'round 's if nothin' had +happened?" + +"Yes," said Mr. Eldridge--"knew of just such a case." + +"Very well," said Eli; "how does he find his way home?" + +"Don't know," said Mr. Eldridge; "always has been a standing mystery +to me." + +"Well," said Eli, "mark my words. There's such a thing as arguin', and +there's such a thing as knowin' outright; and when you'll tell me how +that cat inquires his way home, I'll tell you how I know John Wood +ain't guilty." + +This made a certain sensation, and Eli's stock went up. + +An old, withered man rapped on the table. + +"That's so!" he said; "and there's other sing'lar things! How is it +that a sea-farin' man, that's dyin' to home, will allers die on the +ebb-tide? It never fails, but how does it happen? Tell me that! And +there's more ways than one of knowin' things, too!" + +"I know that man ain't guilty," said Eli. + +"Hark ye!" said a dark old man with a troubled face, rising and +pointing his finger toward Eli. "_Know_, you say? I _knew_, wunst. I +_knew_ that my girl, my only child, was good. One night she went off +with a married man that worked in my store, and stole my money--and +where is she now?" And then he added, "What I _know_ is, that every +man hes his price. I hev mine, and you hev yourn!" + +The impugnment of Eli's motives was evident to all. + +"'Xcuse me, Mr. Speaker," said George Washington, rising with his hand +in his bosom; "as de question is befo' us, I wish to say that de las' +bro' mus' have spoken under 'xcitement. Every man _don'_ have his +price! An' I hope de bro' will recant--like as de Psalmist goes out o' +his way to say '_In my haste_ I said, All men are liars.' He was a +very busy man, de Psalmist--writin' down hymns all day, sharpen'n' his +lead-pencil, bossin' 'roun' de choir--callin' Selah! Well, bro'n an' +sisters"--both arms going out, and his voice going up--"one day, seems +like, he was in gre't haste--got to finish a psalm for a monthly +concert, or such--and some man incorrupted him, and lied; and bein' in +gre't haste--and a little old Adam in him--he says, right off, quick: +'_All_ men are liars!' But see--when he gets a little time to set back +and meditate, he says: 'Dis won' do--dere's Moses, an' Job, an' +Paul--dey ain't liars!' An' den he don' sneak out, and 'low he said, +'All men is lions,' or such. No! de Psalmist ain't no such man; but he +owns up, an' 'xplains: '_In my haste_,' he says, 'I said it.'" + +The foreman rose and rapped. + +"I await a motion," said he, "if our friend will allow me the +privilege of speaking." + +Mr. Washington calmly bowed. + +Then the foreman, when nobody seemed disposed to move, speaking +slowly, at first, and piece-meal, alternating language with smoke, +gradually edged into the current of the evidence, and ended by going +all over it again, with fresh force and point. His cigar glowed and +chilled in the darkening room as he talked. + +"Now," he said, when he had drawn all the threads together to the +point of guilt, "what are we going to do upon this evidence?" + +"I'll tell you something," said Eli. "I didn't want to say it because +I know what you'll all think, but I'll tell you, all the same." + +"Ah!" said the foreman. + +Eli stood up and faced the others. + +"'Most all o' you know what our Bar is in a south-east gale. They +ain't a man here that 'uld dare to try and cross it when the sea's +breakin' on it. The man that says he would, lies!" And he looked at +the foreman, and waited a moment. + +"When my wife took sick, and I stopped goin' to sea, two year ago, and +took up boat-fishin', I didn't know half as much about the coast as +the young boys do, and one afternoon it was blowin' a gale, and we +was all hands comin' in, and passin' along the Bar to go sheer 'round +it to the west'ard, and Captain Fred Cook--he's short-sighted--got on +to the Bar before he knew it, and then he had to go ahead, whether or +no; and I was right after him, and I s'posed he knew, and I followed +him. Well, he was floated over, as luck was, all right; but when I'd +just got on the Bar, a roller dropped back and let my bowsprit down +into the sand, and then come up quicker'n lightnin' and shouldered the +boat over, t'other end first, and slung me into the water; and when I +come up, I see somethin' black, and there was John Wood's boat runnin' +by me before the wind with a rush--and 'fore I knew an'thing he had me +by the hair by one hand and in his boat, and we was over the Bar. Now, +I tell you, a man that looks the way I saw him look when I come over +the gunwale, face up, don't go 'round breakin' in and hookin' things. +He hadn't one chance in five, and he was a married man, too, with +small children. And what's more," he added, incautiously, "he didn't +stop there. When he found out, this last spring, that I was goin' to +lose my place, he lent me money enough to pay the interest that was +overdue on the mortgage, of his own acord." + +And he stopped suddenly. + +"You have certainly explained yourself," said the foreman. "I think we +understand you distinctly." + +"There isn't one word of truth in that idea," said Eli, flushing up, +"and you know it. I've paid him back every cent. I know him better'n +any of you, that's all, and when I know he ain't guilty, I won't say +he is; and I can set here as long as any other man." + +"Lively times some folks'll hev, when they go home," said a spare +tin-peddler, stroking his long yellow goatee. "Go into the store: +nobody speak to you; go to cattle-show: everybody follow you 'round; +go to the wharf: nobody weigh your fish; go to buy seed-cakes at the +cart: baker won't give no tick." + +"How much does it cost, Mr. Foreman," said the butcher, "for a man +'t's obliged to leave town, to move a family out West? I only ask for +information. I have known a case where a man had to leave--couldn't +live there no longer--wa'n't wanted." + +There was a knock. An officer, sent by the judge, inquired whether the +jury were likely soon to agree. + +"It rests with you, sir," said the foreman, looking at Eli. + +But Eli sat doggedly with his hands in his pockets, and did not look +up or speak. + +"Say to the judge that I cannot tell," said the foreman. + +It was eight o'clock when the officer returned, with orders to take +the jury across the street to the hotel, to supper. They went out in +pairs, except that the juryman who was left to fall in with Eli made +three with the file ahead, and left Eli to walk alone. This was +noticed by the by standers. At the hotel, Eli could not eat a +mouthful. He was seated at one end of the table, and was left entirely +out of the conversation. When the jury were escorted back to the court +house, rumors had evidently begun to arise from his having walked +alone, for there was quite a little crowd at the hotel-door, to see +them. They went as before: four pairs, a file of three, and Eli alone. +Then the spectators understood it. + + * * * * * + +When the jury were locked into their room again for the night, Mr. +Eldridge sat down by Eli, and lit his pipe. + +"I understand," he said, "just how you feel. Now, between you and me, +there was a good-hearted fellow that kept me out of a bad mess once. +I've never told anybody just what it was, and I don't mean to tell you +now, but it brought my blood up standing, to find how near I'd come to +putting a fine steamer and two hundred and forty passengers under +water. Well, one day, a year or so after that, this man had a chance +to get a good ship, only there was some talk against him, that he +drank a little. Well, the owners told him they wanted to see me, and +he come to me, and says he, 'Mr. Eldridge, I hope you'll speak a good +word for me; if you do, I'll get the ship, but if they refuse me this +one, I'm dished everywhere.' Well, the owners put me the square +question, and I had to tell 'em. Well, I met him that afternoon on +Sacramento Street, as white as a sheet, and he wouldn't speak to me, +but passed right by, and that night he went and shipped before the +mast. That's the last I ever heard of him. But I had to do it. + +"Now," he added, "this man's been good to you; but the case is proved, +and you ought to vote with the rest of us." + +"It ain't proved," said Eli. "The judge said that if any man had a +reasonable doubt, he ought to hold out. Now, I ain't convinced." + +"Well, that's easy said," replied Mr. Eldridge, a little hotly, and he +arose, and left him. + +The jurymen broke up into little knots, tilted their chairs back, +and settled into the easiest positions that their cramped quarters +allowed. Most of them lit their pipes; the captain, and one or two +whom he honored, smoked fragrant cigars, and the room was soon filled +with a dense cloud. + +Eli sat alone by the window. + +"Sometimes sell two at one house," said a lank book-agent, arousing +himself from a reverie; "once sold three." + +"I think the Early Rose is about as profitable as any," said a little +farmer, with a large circular beard. "I used to favor Jacobs's +Seedling, but they haven't done so well with me of late years." + +"Sometimes," said the book-agent, picking his teeth with a quill, +"you'll go to a house, and they'll say they can't be induced to buy a +book of any kind, historical, fictitious, or religious; but you just +keep on talking, and show the pictures--'Grant in Boyhood,' 'Grant a +Tanner,' 'Grant at Head-quarters,' 'Grant in the White House,' 'Grant +before Queen Victoria,' and they warm up, I tell you, and not +infrequently buy." + +"Do you sell de 'Illustrated Bible,'" asked Washington, "wid de +Hypocrypha?" + +"No; I have a more popular treatise--the 'Illustrated History of the +Bible.' Greater variety. Brings in the surrounding nations, in +costume. Cloth, three dollars; sheep, three-fifty; half calf, +five-seventy-five, full morocco, gilt edges, seven-fifty. Six hundred +and seven illustrations on wood and steel. Three different engravings +of Abraham alone. Four of Noah--'Noah before the Flood,' 'Noah +Building the Ark,' 'Noah Welcoming the Dove,' 'Noah on Ararat.' Steel +engraving of Ezekiel's Wheel, explaining prophecy. Jonah under the +gourd, Nineveh in the distance." + +Mr. Eldridge and Captain Thomas had drifted into a discussion of +harbors, and the captain had drawn his chair up to the table, and, +with a cigar in his mouth, was explaining an ingeniously constructed +foreign harbor. He was making a rough sketch, with a pen. + +"Here is north," he said; "here is the coast-line; here are the flats; +here are the sluice-gates; they store the water here, in----" + +Some of the younger men had their heads together, in a corner, about +the tin-peddler, who was telling stories of people he had met in his +journeys, which brought out repeated bursts of laughter. + +In the corner farthest from Eli, a delicate-looking man began to tell +the butcher about Eli's wife. + +"Twelve years ago this fall," he said, "I taught district-school in +the parish where she lived. She was about fourteen then. Her father +was a poor farmer, without any faculty. Her mother was dead, and she +kept house. I stayed there one week, boarding 'round." + +"Prob'ly didn't git not much of any fresh meat that week," suggested +the butcher. + +"She never said much, but it used to divert me to see her order around +her big brothers, just as if she was their mother. She and I got to be +great friends; but she was a queer piece. One day at school, the girls +in her row were communicating, and annoying me, while the third class +was reciting in 'First Steps in Numbers,' and I was so incensed that I +called Lizzie--that's her name--right out, and had her stand up for +twenty minutes. She was a shy little thing, and set great store by +perfect marks. I saw that she was troubled a good deal, to have all of +them looking and laughing at her. But she stood there, with her hands +folded behind her, and not a smile or a word." + +"Look out for a sullen cow," said the butcher. + +"I felt afraid I had been too hasty with her, and I was rather sorry I +had been so decided--although, to be sure, she didn't pretend to deny +that she had been communicating." + +"Of course," said the butcher: "no use lyin' when you're caught in the +act." + +"Well, after school, she stayed at her desk, fixing her dinner-pail, +and putting her books in a strap, and all that, till all the rest had +gone, and then she came up to my desk, where I was correcting +compositions." + +"Now for music!" said the butcher. + +"She had been crying a little. Well, she looked straight in my face, +and said she, 'Mr. Pollard, I just wanted to say to you that I wasn't +doing anything at all when you called me up;' and off she went. Now, +that was just like her--too proud to say a word before the school." + +But here his listener's attention was diverted by the voice of the +book-agent: + +"The very best Bible for teachers, of course, is the limp-cover, +protected edges, full Levant morocco, Oxford, silk-sewed, kid-lined, +Bishop's Divinity Circuit, with concordance, maps of the Holy Land, +weights, measures, and money-tables of the Jews. Nothing like having a +really----" + +"And so," said the captain, moving back his chair, "they let on the +whole head of water, and scour out the channel to a T." + +And then he rapped upon the table. + +"Gentlemen," he said, "please draw your chairs up, and let us take +another ballot." + +The count resulted as before. The foreman muttered something which had +a scriptural sound. + +In a few moments, he drew Mr. Eldridge and two others aside. +"Gentlemen," he said to them, "I shall quietly divide the jury into +watches, under your charge: ten can sleep, while one wakes to keep Mr. +Smith discussing the question. I don't propose to have the night +wasted." + +And, by one man or another, Eli was kept awake. + + * * * * * + +"I don't see," said the book-agent, "why you should feel obliged to +stick it out any longer. Of course, you are under obligations. But +you've done more than enough already, so as that he can't complain of +you, and if you give in now, everybody'll give you credit for trying +to save your friend, on the one hand, and, on the other hand, for +giving in to the evidence. So you'll get credit both ways." + +An hour later, the tin-peddler came on duty. He had not followed +closely the story about John Wood's loan, and had got it a little +awry. + +"Now, how foolish you be," he said, in a confidential tone. "Can't +you see that if you cave in now, after stan'in' out nine hours"--and +he looked at a silver watch with a brass chain, and stroked his +goatee--"nine hours and twenty-seven minutes--that you've made jest +rumpus enough so as't he won't dare to foreclose on you, for fear +they'll say you went back on a trade. On t'other hand, if you hold +clear out, he'll turn you out-o'-doors to-morrow, for a blind, so 's +to look as if there wa'n't no trade between you. Once he gits off, he +won't know Joseph, you bet! That's what I'd do," he added, with a sly +laugh. "Take your uncle's advice." + +"The only trouble with that," said Eli, shortly, "is that I don't owe +him anything." + +"Oh," said the peddler; "that makes a difference. I understood you +did." + +Three o'clock came, and brought Mr. Eldridge. He found Eli worn out +with excitement. + +"Now I don't judge you the way the others do," said Mr. Eldridge, in a +low tone, with his hand on Eli's knee. "I know, as I told you, just +the way you feel. But we can't help such things. Suppose, now, that +I had kept dark, and allowed to the owners that that man was always +sober, and I had heard, six months after, of thirty or forty men going +to the bottom because the captain was a little off his base; and then +to think of their wives and children at home. We have to do some hard +things; but I say, do the square thing, and let her slide." + +"But I can't believe he's guilty," said Eli. + +"But don't you allow," said Mr. Eldridge, "that eleven men are more +sure to hit it right than one man?" + +"Yes," said Eli, reluctantly, "as a general thing." + +"Well, there's always got to be some give to a jury, just as in +everything else, and you ought to lay right down on the rest of us. It +isn't as if we were at all squirmish. Now, you know that if you hold +out, he'll be tried again." + +"Yes, I suppose so." + +"Got to be--no other way," said Mr Eldridge. "Now, the next time, +there won't be anybody like you to stand out, and the judge'll know +of this scrape, and he'll just sock it to him." + +Eli turned uneasily in his chair. + +"And then it won't be understood in your place, and folks'll turn +against you every way, and, what's worse, let you alone." + +"I can stand it," said Eli, angrily. "Let 'em do as they like. They +can't kill me." + +"They can kill your wife and break down your children," said Mr. +Eldridge. "Women and children can't stand it. Now there's that man +they were speaking of; he lived down my way. He sued a poor, shiftless +fellow that had come from Pennsylvania to his daughter's funeral, and +had him arrested and taken off, crying, just before the funeral +begun--after they'd even set the flowers on the coffin; and nobody'd +speak to him after that--they just let him alone; and after a while +his wife took sick of it--she was a nice, kindly woman--and she had +sort of hysterics, and, finally, he moved off West. And 'twasn't long +before the woman died. Now, you can't undertake to do different from +everybody else." + +"Well," said Eli; "I know I wish it was done with." + +Mr. Eldridge stretched his arms and yawned. Then he began to walk up +and down, and hum, out of tune. Then he stopped at Captain Thomas's +chair. + +"Suppose we try a ballot," he said. "He seems to give a little." + +In a moment the foreman rapped. + +"It is time we were taking another ballot, gentlemen," he said. + +The sleepers rose, grumbling, from uneasy dreams. + +"I will write 'guilty' on twelve ballots," said the foreman, "and if +any one desires to write in 'not,' of course he can." + +When the hat came to Eli, he took one of the ballots and held it in +his hand a moment; and then he laid it on the table. There was a +general murmur. The picture which Mr. Eldridge had drawn loomed up +before him. But with a hasty hand he wrote in "not," dropped in the +ballot, and going back to his chair by the window, sat down. + +There was a cold wave of silence. + +Then Eli suddenly walked up to the foreman and faced him. + +"Now," he said, "we'll stop. The very next turn breaks ground. If you, +or any other man that you set on, tries to talk to me when I don't +want to hear, to worry me to death--look out!" + +How the long hours wore on! How easy, sometimes, to resist an open +pressure, and how hard, with the resistance gone, to fight, as one +that beats the air! How the prospect of a whole hostile town loomed +up, in a mirage, before Eli! And then the picture rose before him of a +long, stately bark, now building, whose owner had asked him yesterday +to be first mate. And if his wife were only well, and he were only +free from this night's trouble, how soon, upon the long, green waves, +he could begin to redeem his little home! + +And then came Mr. Eldridge, kind and friendly, to have another little +chat. + + * * * * * + +Morning came, cold and drizzly. An officer knocked at the door, and +called out, "Breakfast." And, in a moment, unwashed, and all uncombed, +except the tin-peddler, who always carried a beard-comb in his pocket, +they were marched across the street to the hotel. + +There were a number of men on the piazza waiting to see them--jurymen, +witnesses, and the accused himself, for he was on bail. He had seen +the procession the night before, and, like the others, had read its +meaning. + +"Eli knows I wouldn't do it," he had said to himself, "and he's going +to hang out, sure." + +The jury began to turn from the court-house door. Everybody looked. A +file of two men, another file, another, another; would there come +three men, and then one? No; Eli no longer walked alone. + +Everybody looked at Wood; he turned sharply away. + +But this time the order of march in fact showed nothing, one way or +the other. It only meant that the judge, who had happened to see the +jury the night before returning from their supper, had sent for the +high sheriff in some temper--for judges are human--and had vigorously +intimated that if that statesman did not look after his fool of a +deputy, who let a jury parade secrets to the public view, he +would----! + + * * * * * + +The jury were in their room again. At nine o'clock came a rap, and a +summons from the court. + +The prosecuting attorney was speaking with the judge when they went +in. In a moment he took his seat. + +"John Wood!" called out the clerk, and the defendant arose. His +attorney was not there. + +"Mr. Foreman!" said the judge, rising. The jury arose. The silence of +the crowded court-room was intense. + +"Before the clerk asks you for a verdict, gentlemen," said the judge, +"I have something of the first importance to say to you, which has but +this moment come to my knowledge." + +Eli changed color, and the whole court-room looked at him. + +"There were some most singular rumors, after the case was given to +you, gentlemen, to the effect that there had been in this cause a +criminal abuse of justice. It is painful to suspect, and shocking to +know, that courts and juries are liable ever to suffer by such +unprincipled practices. After ten years upon the bench, I never +witness a conviction of crime without pain; but that pain is light, +compared with the distress of knowing of a wilful perversion of +justice. It is a relief to me to be able to say to you that such +instances are, in my judgment, exceedingly rare, and--so keen is the +awful searching power of truth--are almost invariably discovered." + +The foreman touched his neighbor with his elbow. Eli folded his arms. + +"As I said," continued the judge, "there were most singular rumors. +During the evening and the night, rumor, as is often the case, led to +evidence, and evidence has led to confession and to certainty. And the +district attorney now desires me to say to you that the chief officer +of the bank--who held the second key to the safe--is now under arrest +for a heavy defalcation, which a sham robbery was to conceal, and that +you may find the prisoner at the bar--not guilty. I congratulate you, +gentlemen, that you had not rendered an adverse verdict." + +"Your Honor!" said Eli; and he cleared his throat; "I desire it to be +known that, even as the case stood last night, this jury had not +agreed to convict, and never would have!" + +There was a hush, while a loud scratching pen indorsed the record of +acquittal. Then Wood walked down to the jury-box and took Eli's hand. + +"Just what I told my wife all through," he said. "I knew you'd hang +out!" + + * * * * * + +Eli's jury was excused for the rest of the day, and by noon he was in +his own village, relieved, too, of his most pressing burden: for +George Cahoon had met him on the road, and told him that he was not +going to the West, after all, for the present, and should not need his +money. But, as he turned the bend of the road and neared his house, he +felt a rising fear that some disturbing rumor might have reached his +wife about his action on the jury. And, to his distress and amazement, +there she was, sitting in a chair at the door. + +"Lizzie!" he said, "what does this mean? Are you crazy?" + +"I'll tell you what it means," she said, as she stood up with a little +smile and clasped her hands behind her. "This morning, it got around +and came to me that you was standing out all alone for John Wood, and +that the talk was that they'd be down on you, and drive you out of +town, and that everybody pitied _me--pitied me_! And when I heard +that, I thought I'd see! And my strength seemed to come all back, and +I got right up, and dressed myself. And what's more, I'm going to get +well now!" + +And she did. + + + + +YOUNG STRONG OF "THE CLARION." + +BY MILICENT WASHBURN SHINN. + +_Overland Monthly, September, 1884._ + + +If you had asked any resident of Green's Ferry some eight years +ago--say, in '76--who were the leading men of his town, he would +doubtless have begun: + +"Well, there's Judge Garvey, of course. Then there's Uncle Billy +Green, who built the first shanty there in '49, and young Strong of +'The Clarion'--" + +However he might continue his enumeration, it would certainly +have been as above for the first three names. One you would have +recognized, if you had been following State politics closely for some +years; for Judge Garvey was very regularly chosen State senator in his +district, and had held the barren honor of presidential elector the +last time his party carried the State. In '76, some of the papers were +urging his nomination for Congress, and politicians thought his +chance of such a nomination increasing. It has not turned out so; his +name has quite dropped out of the papers, and it is said he does not +certainly control his own county now; but at that time he was the most +potent political influence in three counties. What he influenced them +to, I never clearly understood, for I cannot recall that I ever heard +his name mentioned in connection with any measure or opinion. + +A file of "The Clarion" during the four years that young Strong was +editor would doubtless throw light on the matter. "The Clarion" was at +this time a sort of voice crying in the wilderness about Reform, which +was a very new idea, indeed, to its readers. Garvey did not like the +paper, and young Strong disliked Garvey very much; but the two men had +kept on fairly good terms--not so rigid good terms, of course, as to +forbid their expressing to third parties the frankest contempt for +each other. The Judge had here the advantage, for Strong despised him +indignantly, as a knave, while he despised Strong--or said he +did--pityingly, as a fool. He must, however, have at bottom honored +the young fellow with some serious antipathy; for it was after all no +laughing matter that a boy of twenty-five should come into "his Gaul, +which he had conquered by arms," and filch away his home paper from +under his very eyes. Moreover, though people read the editorials, +laughed, and voted with the Judge just the same--they still did read +them. However, Judge Garvey certainly was more civil to Strong than +Strong was to him. + +As for Uncle Billy Green, his rank was due not only to his connection +with the "first shanty" (a house of entertainment at the point where +a trail turned from the river toward the mines), but to his having +remained steadily on the spot ever since, putting up a larger +building at intervals as the settlement gathered around him, until +now he was proprietor of the American Eagle Hotel, a house of goodly +dimensions and generous equipment--billiard-room, bowling alley, +shooting-gallery. Nor did Uncle Billy Green own and conduct this house +in a purely business spirit; a more modest one would have been more +profitable; he liked to "do that much for the town." A man by the name +of Gulliver had established the old rope-ferry, before the day of +bridges, but it was naturally called Green's Ferry, being a ferry at +Green's place. He had been of an undoubted valor in the Indian fights +of early days, was full of reminiscences, had no personal objections +to anybody or anything, and had long given over to Judge Garvey the +trouble of forming his opinions. + +Judge Garvey and young Strong were pretty sure to be put upon such +boards or committees as the local affairs of the small town demanded; +and in local matters they proved to pull together fairly well, however +at odds they were politically. But in the end it was not over +politics, but over the district school, that they fell out squarely. +They were both trustees, and as Green was the third, the board seemed +in little danger from any too radical reforming tendencies young +Strong might be guilty of, and the Judge had no thought of danger as +he walked down to "The Clarion" office, a breathless September +afternoon, a couple of days before the school should open. + +He found young Strong in his editorial room. This was a corner of the +printing-office, fenced off by a great screen pasted over with old +exchanges. Behind this, Strong sat at his table, correcting proof +energetically. It was evident that he took the editing of this little +four-page weekly rather seriously--but, then, a man must needs be +business-like to produce even four pages weekly with one assistant, +and Strong had to economize time enough from strictly editorial +functions to do a goodly share of type-setting and the rest of the +mechanics of the office. + +"I beg your pardon for interrupting you, Mr. Strong," said the Judge. +"I perceive you are arduously occupied. But it becomes necessary to +confer with you with regard to the school-teacher." + +The Judge was a tall and vigorously built man--a little red-faced, but +good-looking, if one did not insist on too fine a definiteness of +outline. He spoke habitually with a certain inflation of manner, and +tried to form himself upon a Southern type that was pretty abundant in +our politics some years earlier. He was, however, a native of rural +New York, early transplanted to California. + +Strong turned in his chair, and sitting sidewise, rested his elbow on +the proof-sheets, holding the pencil still in his fingers. + +"Well?" he said. "I thought everything was settled." + +"Assuredly." Judge Garvey rested his folded arms upon the pile of +books stacked at the rear of the table, and leaned over them in a +friendly way. "Mr. Coakley is to arrive Sunday evening, and will +begin the term on Monday morning, to the great satisfaction, I +can guarantee, of all concerned. A slight and merely temporary +embarrassment has arisen, with respect to which a few words will +make it all right. In point of fact, the young woman with whom we +previously held correspondence--who, you will remember, broke her +engagement with us to take a more advantageous position--is here." + +The Judge stopped for question or comment, but as Strong waited for +explanation, he went on: + +"She has, it appears, failed after all to secure that, and come here +expecting to fall back upon our school, not having heard that it was +engaged." + +"Well, that's unfortunate for her," said Strong, "but you can't ship +Coakley now." + +"Your views coincide exactly with my own, my dear sir." The Judge +straightened up with some relief. "I have only to ask, then, for a +note to the lady to that effect, that my own explanation already given +may be corroborated." + +Strong began to look alert and suspicious at this. + +"Views coincide?" he said. "What two views could there be? What does +she say brought her here?" + +"She's got an idea that she's got first claim on the place," said the +Judge, plumping suddenly into colloquial diction. He had a trick of +doing so when he got down to business. It would have had something the +effect of candid confession, produced by a maiden's plain-hair days +alternated with her waved-hair days, had not the grandiloquence of +tone and manner become so far second nature that it ran through both +his dialects, and lessened the contrast. "You can't always make a +woman see sense." + +Strong looked suspiciously at him a few seconds. "Well, I'll go see +her this evening," he said. "Where's she staying?" + +"That is a totally superfluous tax on your time, my dear Strong," said +the Judge, leaning persuasively across the books again. "I have here +a mere formal line, stating that Coakley is the regularly engaged +teacher of the school, and will begin next Monday; your signature +to it--Green's and mine are already there--will be all that is +necessary." He pushed pen and ink toward Strong with his exaggerated +air of courtesy. + +"Oh, I'm not going to sign things that way, you know. I'll go see +her." He turned and drew his proof-sheets to him with an air of +dismissal. + +The Judge stood up very straight, expanded his chest, and folded his +arms according to his conception of the Virginian manner. "Am I to +understand, sir, that you question my veracity?" + +"I don't question anything," said the young man, impatiently. "I'll +know what I'm talking about when I've seen her." + +"Permit me to suggest, sir"--the Judge was approaching his platform +manner--"permit me to suggest, sir, that Mr. Green and myself +constitute a majority of the board, and Mr. Green, sir--Uncle Billy +Green--has confidence in my honor, and will sustain my action, +whatever line you may be persuaded to adopt." + +"Oh, as to that," said Strong, exaggerating his crispness of manner in +protest against the Judge's staginess, "I'm clerk of the board, and +you can't hold a legal meeting nor pay a salary without me. What's the +reason you don't want me to see her?" + +Judge Garvey unfolded his arms, fell back a step, and dropped easily +into the sonorous declamation that made the stalwart Judge no +inconspicuous figure on the floor of the Legislature. The newspapers, +of course, were responsible for his language--as for the rest of +his education; but such as it was, he used it fluently, and the +declamatory manner was, to his constituency, quite an essential of +eloquence--the prime difference, in fact, between oratory and plain +talking. + +"You cast aspersions upon my honor, sir. Through me you insult the +people of Green's Ferry--of this county--of this district--the +enlightened and honorable constituency who it is my proud honor to +represent. I sco-r-n to answer your insinuations, sir. They will +be hurled back upon yourself by the united voice and righteous +indignation of my justly aroused fellow-townsmen, by the voters of +this noble district--I may say, by the whole State of California--to +which I am not unknown, sir." + +Half-a-dozen of the justly aroused fellow-townsmen were straggling in +from the street, for in Green's Ferry a sprinkling of the citizens +spend the warm afternoons sitting in absolute tranquillity on boxes +and barrels here and there, under the awnings of the several business +blocks; and the knowledge that a row was at last on between Judge +Garvey and young Strong reached them at the first peal. The Judge, +alive to the increase of his audience, raised his voice a shade, and +went on with a curious mixture of complacency and genuine wrath. + +"Is it lack of confidence that has sent me to represent my honorable +constituency in the legislative halls of California, Mr. Strong? Have +I received that proud token of esteem only to be insulted by one whose +obscurity is his only shield; who, with unknown record, with no +recommendation save his own overwhelming self-esteem, comes among us +to sow dissent in peaceful counsels, and draw scorn and contempt upon +his own head by impotent and futile attacks upon those whom he is +powerless to harm?" + +This rounded the climax well, so the Judge only added: "The call you +propose, sir, I shall regard as a direct insult to myself," and strode +dramatically from the room. + +The papered screen went crashing to the floor behind him. The justly +aroused fellow-townsmen looked after him, laughing but admiring. + +"Laid you out, didn't he, Strong?" + +"That's the way he does it at Sacramento. Oh, the Judge is a real +orator--there's no doubt of that." + +"_He_ don't have to make his speech up before-hand. No, sir, right +where he is, any time of day, he just turns the faucet, and there it +comes." + +"What was the row, anyway, Strong?" + +"I don't know myself; something about a teacher--he began to bluster +all of a sudden." Strong walked over to the screen, picked it up, set +it straight along a crack with intense precision, and went back to his +seat. "Drunk, isn't he? I haven't heard him take the stump that way +since election. He's always made rather a point of not quarrelling +with me, too." + +"Oh, he's no drunker'n usual," answered with candor a fellow-townsman. +"The Judge ain't really himself until he's a little off. He didn't +blow so without some reason; don't you fool yourself--not if _I_ know +the man." + +"Well, if he's got any game he must have come to his last chance in +it, to try bullying on _me_," said Strong; and then another of the +group asked: + +"What row could there be about a teacher, Strong? Thought you'd given +him his man." + +The pencil rolled from the edge of the table across the floor at +Strong's movement of attention. "Coakley?--what of him?" + +The man began to laugh, and one or two others joined in. One of them +said a little offensively: "Pretty good on you, youngster! You took +too big a contract for your age when you undertook to keep up with +Judge Garvey. He'll give you odds and take you in, every time." + +Strong reddened a little, but waited to be answered with very fair +composure. + +"Didn't you really know, Strong? The Judge scored one on you that +time, then. Why, he's been Garvey's man in Sierra Township one or two +elections now. Used to be a Millerite preacher, before your day, but +he broke down at that. Good hand in county politics, but he's always +completely out of business between times. Why you remember him, +Strong--he was round with the Judge election times--cross-eyed fellow, +with black siders." + +"_That_ fellow? Why, he can't spell straight! The way of it was, Judge +Garvey told us only Tuesday that the teacher we'd got--first-rate +certificates--had backed out; and we couldn't put off beginning school +any longer, nor hear of any teacher to be had; so when he produced +this man, we had really no choice. I suppose I needn't ask where he +got his certificates." + +"No--Garvey's solid with this county board and superintendent." + +"Disgraceful!" said Strong; whereat all laughed, except one who had +lost a ranch a few years before during business dealings with the +Judge. + +"Oh, he's a scamp--I wouldn't trust him out of sight with his baby's +silver mug," said this man, with feeling. The rest laughed again. In +Green's Ferry a certain easy-going good-heartedness is required by the +public conscience, rather than decalogue virtues. Garvey liked sharp +practice--all right; if you were yourself hurt, you would naturally +begin to vote against him; otherwise, it was none of your business, +except as successful rascality had a claim on your admiration. Young +Strong liked to write furious reform editorials--all right; if you +were the one hit, you would swear at Strong and stop your subscription +until a hit on some one else made you renew it; otherwise, it was none +of your business and lively reading. They leaned against the wall and +desk, and began with perfect good-nature to tell stories of the Judge. +"R'member the time he got that Mexican ranch? Fellow thought it was a +bill of sale for thirty acres he was signing, and it was three +hundred." + +"Best thing was when he made old man Meeker believe he was dying, and +deed over a good fifty thousand dollars in stock to his daughter--and +married the girl, sir, before the old fellow found he was good for +twenty years more. He made the air smell of brimstone the rest of his +life if you mentioned Garvey to him! Drowned in a ford a winter or two +later, after all. Used to live in a little shanty up Indian Crick and +raise potatoes--and Garvey sent him a cow--cheekiest thing!" + +Strong turned sharply away from the laugh that followed, and went on +with his work, while they slowly dispersed. He worked on savagely with +brows drawn together. "It isn't so much the existence of scoundrels +like Garvey that gets me," he was saying to himself, "as the way the +whole crowd of them take him." He stopped to read over the words he +was correcting--they were editorial: + +"Was ever folly greater than this of our community, in dropping +everything else to run after money. For what do you expect to do with +it when you get it? Better eating, and drinking, and the privilege of +being toadied to by those who want to make something out of you--what +more can you get out of money, if you have never made anything of +_yourself_? Just as a pig, if he might take his choice whether he +would be turned into a man or would be moved into a cosier sty, with +more unbounded swill, would doubtless choose the sty!" + +"My broom against the ocean," he said; but he went on correcting +doggedly. + +And, not to conceal from you what was in reality the most significant +fact about Will Strong--the key to about everything he thought and +did--he was mentally submitting this editorial, as he had submitted +every other he had written, to the test of the probable opinion of +a young woman he had not seen nor heard from for two years, but +who nevertheless constituted to his mind the chief motive for +existence--if not the chief and sufficient explanation of the human +race's having been created at all. You must realize, before trying to +understand his story, that Will Strong was really a very romantic +young man indeed, though he pretended to Green's Ferry that he was +not. + +Outside the screen, the strips of sun through the western window and +open door lengthened across the meagre collection of dusty fonts of +type, the small press, the piles of papers. The black-fingered, +red-haired boy setting type among them reflected that it must be +nearly dinner-time, and turned to see how far in the hot strips had +crept--turned, and stood staring; for he met squarely the inquiring +look of a pair of clear eyes, and became aware of a lady in the +door-way. + +It is probable that Jim had never dreamed in his life of any other +social distinction than that between rich and poor, notorious and +obscure, nor was he a lad of perceptions; yet he knew at once that +this was a very unusual sort of lady for Green's Ferry. If he had been +a man of the social world he would have known that she was a +gentlewoman of notably high-bred appearance. She glanced, not without +dismay, about the shabby work-room, as if she felt herself where she +had no business to be. Nevertheless, she came forward frankly, and +asked in the friendly way of one whose station needs no asserting: + +"Mr. Strong?--one of the school-board?--Is he here?" + +"Yes'm." The boy made no motion, but stood blankly staring. + +"May I see him, please?" + +"Lady to see you, Mr. Strong," shouted Jim, standing still. + +In the few seconds before Strong emerged, the lady stood her ground in +the middle of the floor, with some appearance of anxiety. She was +certainly a very noticeable person, and came nearer to warranting that +strong word "beautiful" than falls often to the lot of woman. It was a +matter of outline more than color, however, for she had not much of +that about her--brown hair, blue-gray eyes, skin of a warm paleness. +All this low coloring, however, was so perfect of its sort, that it +gave something the effect of a fine etching--a rich distinctness +attained by shades, not colors. Instead of being outshone by more +brilliant-hued women, Miss Northrop had always had the effect of +making them look chromo-like. So, too, a certain nobility and +self-forgetfulness of manner made the more elaborate manners of others +seem the crude device of inferiority. It was a good deal due to +her eyes; she had most wonderful eyes, and I doubt if any man or +many women ever met them in a full look without feeling a little +stir of pulse--whether it was in the lashes, or in the sweet +straightforwardness of look, utterly devoid of coquetry, or in the +depth of the gray, or in what; certain it is that no one ever saw Miss +Northrop without talking of her beautiful eyes. + +"A lady to see him?" The word in Green's Ferry defined only the sex. +Some one with a notice of a flock of sheep for sale, which she wanted +to get in as a local; or with an ill-spelled poem; or--by George, +yes--that school-mistress. Lucky she had not met Garvey there--poor +girl! Strong laid his pencil down, and came out from behind the screen +good-naturedly enough--and stopped short. What a thing to happen to a +man, that he should live and move and have his being for a dozen years +in the thought of one woman, should count a world worth living in +because she was somewhere on it, and a pitiful human race worth +working for because they were her fellow-creatures--and should come +out from behind his screen, and see her before his eyes--on his dingy +work-room floor--out of her four thousand miles' distance! + +They had been four years schoolmates in a New England High School. +Will was a farmer's lad, from an outlying, rocky village, who worked +for his board while he went to school. He came of an unschooled, +hard-working, God-fearing yeoman race. Winifred could look up every +line of her descent, through vista of governors, college-presidents, +and ministers, back to Colonial aristocracy and gentry beyond sea. +Her great-grandfathers had carried swords in Revolutionary battles, +where Will's had followed with muskets. Winifred herself was +one of those flowers into which excellent family trees break +occasionally--flowers so lovely that no excellence of the tree seems +enough to account for them. If she had any core of aristocratic +coldness, it was so overlaid by a sweet humaneness, a frank generosity +of impulse, that no one would have known it. If she had been a man, to +have a valet, she would have been a hero to him. + +Even in the democracy of school, Will Strong knew well enough the +difference between his shy awkwardness and her pleasant frankness; and +knew that though he could meet school requirements about as well as +she, yet his mental range was crude and narrow beside hers; and any +one could see that in the town where he was an unknown boy she was an +important young lady. These things would not have counted for much had +not some mediæval follower of some exiled king dropped down into the +boy's temperament that passion of self-abasing loyalty that is rather +an anachronism in our democratic days. They had been on terms of +friendliness rather than friendship in school, but that was due more +to his shyness than anything else. She had really given to him more +opportunities than to most of her schoolmates; she liked his integrity +and earnestness. + +He had looked to college as the natural door between his world and +hers; after four years at New Haven he might seek her acquaintance +without audacity. To that end he had laboriously accumulated money, +and had even passed his matriculation, when his father's death made +him indispensable on the poor little farm. Since then he had doggedly +plodded alone through the college curriculum, but without finding in +it the mysterious pass-word that he had expected into the intellectual +aristocracy. Some two years before, his mother's death and the growing +up of younger brothers had left him free to seek his fortune in +California. At twenty-seven he had lost his fresh look and boyish +shyness; he looked older than he was, but he was really very youthful, +and believed in all sorts of abstractions beginning with capitals. +His mental furniture, being obtained from books, not people, was not +quite in the style of the present decade, and he read Carlyle and +Emerson more than Herbert Spencer. His creed had, therefore, quite +transcendentalism enough to accommodate without incongruity his little +private deification. + +Once in every year or two, as opportunity took him near her home, he +had called on her, and had multiplied each call mightily by thinking +of it before and after. He had also kept up a stupid correspondence +with a schoolmate who had lived in the same town with her, for the +chance of her name being mentioned. Within a couple of years, however, +she had lost her father and gone to relatives in New York, so he had +lost exact knowledge even of her whereabouts. + +She spoke before he had found his voice--without an instant's +hesitation, indeed. "Oh, Will Strong!" she cried, stepping quickly +toward him and holding out her hand. "I _hoped_ it was you!" + +He took the offered hand, and said to himself that his own was +consecrated by the touch to clean deeds forever. He would not have +known how to address her, but he followed her leading. + +"It is Winifred Northrop!" he said. "What is it? Can I do something +for you?" + +"You are school-committee man, are you not?" Anxiety, relief, and +trust mingled in her voice. + +"Trustee--yes. Why," he cried, "it isn't possible that _you_ are the +lady!" + +She laughed. "I suppose the lady must be I." + +He did not smile. He even lost color with wrath. "Garvey has dared to +play you some trick!--I did not dream--" he went on, eagerly, "Garvey +kept the letters in his hands, and bungled over the name, so I did not +once fairly catch it." + +He turned back to his corner, and put the remaining bit of proof into +his pocket. New heavens and new earth had come into existence since +the last pencil mark on it. + +"Jim," he said, "I'm called off on school-business. You get as much of +that set up as you can before dinner, and then lock up; and I'll come +down and make the corrections in the editorials before I go to bed. +Now--Winifred--if I may walk home with you, we'll get to the bottom +of Garvey's tricks. Villain!" + +The epithet was so fervent, and so entirely without humorous intent, +that Miss Northrop laughed again as they walked out into the dull, hot +September afternoon sun. The board sidewalk was uneven and full of +projecting nails and splinters, and she held her thin, blue-gray dress +prettily aside from them; Will noted the gesture with admiration as +intense as unreasonable. It seemed to him peculiarly admirable that +she should draw her hat a little forward to shade her eyes, and should +take just the length of step that she did; the absolutely right step +for a lady was thenceforth settled; since then, he has insisted +unreasonably upon a certain shade as the only right thing in gray, as +if he held in his own mind some positive standard beyond the realm of +variable taste. + +The two or three business blocks--rows of slight frame-buildings, more +of them saloons than would seem possible--were very quiet; Green's +Ferry is the shipping point of a wide stock-raising district, and +all its activity centres about the railroad station at stated times +daily. The justly aroused fellow-townsmen were all back under the +awnings--leaning against the wall by the post-office, sitting on boxes +by the grocery; some indolently telling stories and chaffing; some +looking sleepily before them in absolute repose; some in various +stages of inert drunkenness. All stared curiously at young Strong and +the strange lady, and prepared to talk them over afterward, but no +one addressed him. + +They turned aside soon into a broad cross street with no sidewalk, +where the coarse dust was in places ankle deep. Behind them, beyond +the main street, a few groups of yellowing cottonwoods on bare banks +of reddish clay marked the course of the Sacramento; before them the +street faded into a limitless expanse of gravel, thinly dotted in the +distance with dull green oaks, and bounded by long knolls, like +wrinkles in the plain, dark with oaks against the smoky sky of +September--a sky dull blue above, dull gray near the horizon. + +Along either side of the street the flimsy wooden houses were set +back, each in its yard, and surrounded by oleanders; sometimes there +would be a few parched roses, a trellis of Madeira-vine, a patch of +carefully nursed grass, often a row of China trees, whose fallen +black seeds stippled the dust--but always the great rosy clumps of +oleanders, glorying in the heat and drought. Every evening after +dinner the owners come out, and stand watering these gardens with hose +and sprinkler, till all along the street there is a murmur like rain +and a smell of damp earth, and here and there through the warm +twilight a glimpse of the white sprays of water; while the families +sit on the porches and doorstep, and gossip and laugh. At this hour, +however, the little gardens and splendid oleanders lay hot and +deserted in the dusty afternoon. + +"I haven't till now had time to spare from being anxious to be +interested," Miss Northrop said. "I was rather panic-stricken this +morning, and things were awful, instead of interesting, in proportion +to their newness." + +This bit of pathos stiffened Will's manner with the awkwardness of +over-feeling, as he asked: "Now, what can I do for you--Winifred?" + +The awkwardness made him more like the school-boy Will; and then, a +familiar face four thousand miles from home seems more familiar than +it really is. Miss Northrop answered confidingly: "I will tell you all +about it, and then you will know what to do. I wrote to Judge +Garvey--some one referred me to him at Sacramento--and asked if I +might teach the school. He wrote back that I might, fixed the day, and +directed me to a boarding-place that he had engaged for me. So I came +by yesterday evening's train, and sent word that I was here. This +morning he called and told me--with most oppressive civility--that as +I had not answered his last letter, the place had been given to some +one else. He said 'professional etiquette' here demands an answer in +such a case, and failure to answer is equivalent to a withdrawal of +the application." + +"He lied," said Will, parenthetically, walking along with his eyes on +the ground; she, on the contrary, looked at him often, with frank +directness. + +"He did not impress me," she said, "as the soul of candor. I said as +little as possible to him, but when he was gone I asked about the rest +of the committee, and as soon as I heard your name I hoped it was you; +I knew you were somewhere in California. This afternoon I received his +letter written to prevent my coming. It had followed me up here by the +same train that I came on." She held the letter in her hand, and Will +quietly took it and kept it. "I would not raise any controversy about +such a thing," she went on, "if I had any idea in the world where else +to go or what to do." Her voice sharpened a little again, with a note +of pathos. + +Will did not know how to answer without seeming to question or +comment, so there came a pause; then he said: + +"This Coakley was an electioneering agent of Garvey's, and doesn't +know enough to teach babies. He seems to have turned up suddenly +wanting help, and the Judge is willing enough to keep him on hand and +under obligations until next election." + +Miss Northrop stopped short and looked at him with brows a little +raised, and her bearing became impalpably more distant. + +"But I cannot enter into contest with--these men for permission to +teach school here," she said. + +She was right, in her quick feeling that Will Strong's training could +not have made work and discomfort and contact with vulgarity seem +outside the sphere of women. If it had been one of his own sisters he +would have said: "Oh, well, we have to take the world as we find it. +Brace up, little girl; I'll put you safe through, and you'll find it's +not so bad, after all." + +But what he said to Winifred Northrop was: "It is outrageous! Such +brutes as Garvey have no business to look at a lady! If you really +prefer not to take the school," he went on, with some embarrassment, +"I hope you will call on me to help you in any other way; but if you +want the school you shall have it, and no annoyance with it that I can +help." + +Miss Northrop repented that she had repented her confidence. "I +remembered that you were kind of old, Will"--and her manner was +irresistibly winning when she said such a thing--"but you are so very +kind now that you make me ashamed. I only meant to ask you what I must +do. Yes, I must take this position if I can, for I have no +alternative." + +"There is nothing for you to do," he said. "It is my place, as an +officer of the school, to see that its rightful teacher is not +defrauded." + +"So it is," she said, relieved. "But I am none the less grateful." + +"It is a pleasure to me to be able to do anything for you," he said, +gravely, somewhat stiffly--from his tone you would not have suspected +much more truth than usual in the formula. + +She only said: "You are very kind," and then he lifted his hat, and +left her at Mrs. Stutt's gate. + +He deliberately and literally believed, as he walked down the +street--directly to Green's--that he was the happiest man in the +world. For that matter, it is not impossible that he was. He was +absolutely innocent of conscious hyperbole in saying, "It would be +worth a life-time of trouble only to have _seen_ her; and I know her +and am able to do her a service!" + +He scored one advantage in having seen Miss Northrop early; he saw +Green before Garvey had talked with him. The report of the quarrel had +by no means failed to reach "The American Eagle," and when Strong came +in Uncle Billy Green was just expressing himself with regard to +Coakley: + +"Of course the Judge'll provide for his man when he gets a chance. +That's where he's sharp. And if Coakley is smart enough to suit Judge +Garvey, he's smart enough to teach _my_ children--that's what _I_ +say." + +A private audience with him would have been merely postponing the hour +of general discussion, so Strong made a brief exposition of his +case--gently enough, but with considerable force--then and there, +displaying the letter he carried by way of proof. He hardly expected +to elicit anything but the usual laugh and comment on the Judge's +smartness. But there was a marked seriousness of tone in the remarks +when he ended. + +"Well, that _is_ pretty rough." + +"Yes, sir, that's going too far. The Judge ought to know where to +stop. I don't stand by no man when it comes to a shabby trick on an +unprotected school-marm." + +"A real lady, too--I could see that when she went by with you, +Strong." + +Even Green said, uneasily, "No, I shouldn't think the Judge ought to +do that, quite." + +It was evident that Green's Ferry drew its lines as much as any other +town. The moral support it offered Strong was mainly negative, +however, and Green, after several alternate conversations with his two +fellow trustees during this Saturday evening, went off early Sunday +morning to visit his married daughter at the old Meeker place, leaving +word that they must fix it between them. Judge Garvey closed the +somewhat stormy conference of Saturday evening with a promise to break +down Miss Northrop's school in a week, and Strong's paper in a month. +"Do you flatter yourself I should not have had your contemptible sheet +in powder under my feet, sir, before this, if I had thought it worth +the attention?" Nevertheless, as there was nothing on which the Judge +prided himself more than on his invariable civility to ladies ("the +courtly Judge" was his favorite phrase in writing up a local notice of +any affair at which he had been present), Strong, having possession of +the school-house key, was able to put Miss Northrop into possession on +Monday morning without opposition. The Judge even visited her during +the day and addressed the school with extreme suavity. + +He was, however, very seriously affronted, and had not passed his +Sunday without diligent preparation among parents and children to make +Miss Northrop's position untenable. It would have been no difficult +task, either, but for an altogether unprecedented obstacle--a factor +that he had not dreamed of in his calculations, and that Strong +himself had underestimated. The children, who had gone to school +Monday morning primed for mutiny, surrendered their hearts in a body +to Miss Northrop by night; three days later, Uncle Billy Green's +niece, who taught the primary school, gave in adoring allegiance; by +the end of the week everybody who had seen her was her advocate. It +was certainly an unprecedented thing that Judge Garvey's best +exertions should come to naught, because of a woman's way of smiling +and speaking; but Miss Northrop's tenure of the school was secure. It +was not entirely speech and smile, however. Miss Northrop was +interested in everything, and consequently had common ground with +everybody; and she met each one on that ground, not so much ignoring +as temporarily forgetting differences. + +The year wore on from gray to gray; the parching north wind poured +down the plain and darkened the air with gritty dust; the sky, though +cloudless, grew murkier every day. Then the wind shifted to the south, +and the sky grew darker yet with surging heaps of clouds, and at last +down came the late November rain; and next morning Miss Northrop could +see, like a miraculous creation of the night, up and down every +east-and-west street, a range of azure mountains along either horizon, +snow-crowned, clear-cut, against an exquisite blue sky. Every two or +three weeks the surge of clouds would come rolling up with the south +wind, and the rain would come down in torrents for days, till the +Sacramento, yellow with mud, roared level with its banks; and then the +storm would break away, and there would be a week or two of blue sky +and brilliant air and green earth. + +One Sunday in March, between the early and the latter rains, Miss +Northrop and Will Strong walked out together several miles over the +plain. The gravel had long disappeared under green burclover and +_filaria_, thickly dotted with the little yellow clover blossoms, the +lilac ones of the _filaria_, and with small blue gilias. The flocks +and herds had been driven down from the mountains where they spend +their summers and autumns, and the air was full of the bleating of +lambs. Up and down either horizon, converging toward the north, were +the long ranks of the Sierras and Coast Range, deep blue, ruggedly +tipped with white peaks of all shapes--the Lassen Buttes, the Yallo +Balleys, and many a lesser one. Northward, in the interval between the +ranges, miles and miles away, the solitary peak of Shasta rose above +the dark oak-knolls, sharp-white from base to tip, against a stainless +sky. They sat down on the warm clover, beside a noisy yellow stream +that ran full to its banks on its way to the Sacramento. Winifred +pushed back her hat, dropped her hands in her lap, and let her senses +be played upon by the delicious air, the blue and white of mountains +and sky and clouds, the luminous green, the rushing of water close by, +and the bleating of flocks in the distance. It gave Will a good chance +to watch her face--the sweetness of the mouth; the nobility of the +level brows; the frankness of the eyes; the soft wave of her hair. +There was a marked sadness in her face in repose; to wonder why, was +to transgress the code of loyal humility that Will set himself; he had +not even considered it due chivalry to speculate, much less ask, as to +the reason of so amazing a phenomenon as her presence in California at +all, and the incongruity of her school-teaching. Her pose was perfect, +and yet nothing could be more unconscious. Was that marvellous +spontaneity, that simple dignity, the regular thing among the men and +women Winifred belonged with? It made him feel left very far out to +think so. How incapable of effort for admiration she was, yet how +invariably admirable! + +She caught him looking at her, in time. "What is it?" she said, +simply. + +He colored with some confusion, but confessed a piece of his thought. +"I was wondering if you really do not care at all for admiration. Most +people would think they got the good of their living in being praised +a fraction as much as you've been. If that's impertinent I beg your +pardon; you asked me." + +The portion of aristocrat's pride that was in Winifred was largely +concentrated in an objection to talking of herself or letting other +people do it; so she looked a little annoyed. She began with some +constraint: + +"Yes--I care--at first--when it is the right one that praises. But +there is always a reaction of self-distrust. It seems humiliating," +she went on more frankly, "to have been praised for having done some +common thing--solved a problem, or written a poem, or handled a +piano--a little more or less cleverly, when one comes to think what +education and art are. And _personal_ admiration--that always seems a +contemptible sort of folly, if you think of what great things there +are to do and be in the world, and the lives the great lonely souls +have lived." + +"Your achievement seems little to you," said Will, with some gloom, +"because, I suppose, more always opens to you. To me, who have made +none--" + +"Why, Will," she cried, with the most genuine dissent. "You have done +more than almost any one I know. Do you call it nothing to do a +college curriculum alone and under all sorts of hindrances? And I know +that it was done well and thoroughly." + +"Oh, yes," he said, indifferently, tossing bits of clover into the +stream, "I could have passed an A. B. fast enough. But you know better +than I do, Winifred, that that's the least of a college course. I've +seen fellows that had to work their way through and had no spare time +or energy, and they always lacked a great deal of the college flavor; +the education didn't permeate 'em. Then there are other things--music, +art, social opportunities, capacity of expression--that are no slight +things to miss; they make up more of first-class living than Greek +optatives or the equation of a surface. It isn't really possible for a +man, not backed by circumstances, to get himself into a position that +some are born to." He let the clover be and looked up. "Oh, I'm not +growling, Winifred," he said, hastily, smiling, as he saw her about to +speak eagerly. "I'm only making philosophical observations, and using +myself as an illustration. Why in the world should I growl to find +myself stranded half way up, when there is a townful of people behind +us clear down at the bottom, and no more their fault than mine? Why +should I mind that I am left out from the best chances, any more than +that a thousand other fellows are? 'What Act of Legislature was there +that' _I_ should be cultured?" + +She was leaning forward with her irresistible eyes full on his, and +face and voice vivified with that sympathetic expressiveness that +makes speech count for far more than the words. + +"Will, that is true," she cried, "but it is only part of the truth. +'Close thy' Carlyle; 'open thy' Emerson. It's true, you have missed +some things that you deserved to have and that many of your inferiors +have for nothing. But your life is only begun, and your ability and +pluck can do so much that you needn't waste regret on anything they +may fail to do. Even if circumstances be unconquerable that stand +between you and some good things, are the things you have gained +instead of less value?--your courage and patience, your self-reliance +and trustworthiness and helpfulness? Why, Will, _character_ is worth +more than knowledge of art, or familiarity with good society; just to +live bravely is worth more than all the rest. Do you suppose I would +exchange your companionship for that of a dozen 'cultured' people who +could talk to me about 'sincere furniture'"--this was in the last +decade, remember--"and Rauss's heads, as you can't, and who never +showed me one spark of genuine feeling about the great things of life, +as you can?" + +Will was overwhelmed. Winifred had talked of his affairs much, +following them with unvarying interest, but of himself or herself, +never; and it was actually a new idea to the young fellow that she +could have any very high opinion of him. Moreover, it was the first +time he had heard her speak with unveiled and ardent feeling. + +"You do not mean"--and he formed his words with difficulty--"that I +could meet on equal ground people that--such people as _your_ +associates." + +"No; you would meet most of them on higher ground. If they didn't know +it, that would be their discredit. I should think you could see +that," she added, in a quick, parenthetic averse way, "from _their_ +associate. If you want to get a higher opinion of the value of your +life, compare it with an ordinary, foolish, useless one--like mine." +She gave him no chance to answer that, but was the next moment on her +feet, suggesting that they walk on, and wishing they were not to stop +short of the Lassen Buttes, whose apparent nearness, scores of miles +distant as they were, was still a perpetual surprise to her eastern +eyes. + +When everything has been made ready for it, a few sentences may easily +make or mark an era in life; and it is probable that if Miss Northrop +had not in effect told young Strong he was quite good enough for her, +he might have remained her contented vassal for years. Six months of +being her nearest friend worked their result, to be sure; but the +humility they were gnawing at was of mediævally tough fibre, and of +twice six years' growth. His depreciation of himself, however, had +only meant sense of distance from her; therefore, his sense of the +significance of her speech was enormous. He felt his relation to her +changed; he was shaken from all his moorings, and thrown into a mighty +agitation that possessed him night and day, and only grew with time. +For this was what it all came to: Was the distance between Winifred +and himself greater than the distance between her and any other man? +And when he had once thought that, the gate was open, and the +besieging host marched in and took possession of every corner of him +with longing and desire and a madness of tenderness. + +He thought of nothing else. He wrote his editorials and set type under +an unceasing sense of it, as people have done brain-work and +finger-work to an accompaniment of unceasing physical pain. For there +was nothing joyous about it to him; it was all a bitter pain of mad +desire to be something to her--to secure her, somehow, before this +great, dark future swept her away from him. And yet the latter rains +came and went, the green faded from the ground, the mountains grew +dimmer and duller, and at last disappeared in the summer murk, before +he took in his own mind the next step--from lover to suitor, as before +from vassal to lover. + +He did so simply because he could not stand it any longer. It stood to +reason that there must be a way out of such active torments. And, +after all, why not he as well as any other man? It was absurd to +suppose that Winifred could ever be _in love_ with any man, as a man +would be with her. It occurred to Will that the thing to do was +natural enough, after all--not to ask Winifred's love, but to offer +her his. And he walked down to Mrs. Stutt's to do it, one August +evening, a little before school opened after vacation. He was in good +spirits, too; to come to action and to speech, after so long +repression, was an inestimable relief. And she had been doubly +friendly to him all this time. + +Mrs. Stutt was in her little strip of grass and oleanders. "That you, +Mr. Strong?" she called out cheerily as he lifted the gate-latch. +"Well, Miss Northrop's in the sitting-room, I s'pose. You go right in, +and I'll come in when I've done my watering." + +"Thank you," said Will, absently, and walked on into the house. +Winifred was not in the dark little sitting-room. He walked to the +open window and stood there, expecting her to come in presently. There +were veils of Madeira vine over the window, just opening their whitish +tassels of bloom, and the air was full of the smell of them. Mrs. +Stutt began to water the grass outside, and the shower of water from +her hose glimmered through the Madeira vine; the noise of the water +came to him, and the crying of crickets, and the smell of the freshly +wet earth. Then he heard a step on the porch, and saw Winifred go down +the short path to the gate. He could see by her white dress that she +stood still there; so he went out, too, to join her. Mrs. Stutt was +watering at the other side of the house now, and the two were alone. + +Will stopped a moment in the darkness and faint odor of a great +oleander, a few feet from the motionless girl at the gate, to realize +well the grace of her dim white figure, and her unconscious attitude. +She stood in a weary way, with her head a little fallen back, and her +hands hanging loosely clasped before her. There was so much and so +incomprehensible emotion in the attitude, that Will felt vaguely +thrust out into another world from that where her interests lay. She +had not heard him approach, for the train from the south was just +coming to a stand at the station, not a stone's throw off, and there +was a great noise of jarring cars, and shouting men, and escaping +steam, and ringing bell. He waited till the noise should be quite +over. Some one came walking rapidly from the station; Will, glancing +at the dark figure, thought it had, even in this dimness, an +unfamiliar look. It paused close by the gate. + +"Winifred!" + +Will did not know the voice; the tone turned him blind and dizzy. + +Winifred started violently, and turned; she clasped her hands tightly, +and lifted them to her breast in a frightened way, as she fell back a +step. + +"Oh, my God!" she cried, under her breath. There was a rattle of the +gate-latch, a sharp flying open of the gate, and the stranger held her +in his arms. + +"My darling, my darling!" he said, with an infinite tenderness. "Did +you think you could hide anywhere in all this wide world where I +should not find you?" + +For just an instant she yielded to his clasp--then she drew back. "You +must not," she said, softly, with unmistakable pain in her voice. "You +know that. I thought if I was utterly out of sight or hearing, you +would forget me, and _I_ might--forget myself." + +He broke in before she had fairly spoken. "You were mistaken, +Winifred; there was no one between us. O my foolish little hot-head! +if you had not been so headlong in your self-sacrifice--if you had +only waited till I came back--I could have showed you in ten minutes +that there was no place for it. Mollie is married to John Gates and is +very happy. And you and I--my little girl, how nearly our two lives +have been spoiled! Sweetheart," he said, laughing with a shaky voice, +"I think I shall never dare let go of you again"--and he drew her back +to him. + +She hesitated--surrendered--clung to him with a long sobbing breath. +"Oh, I have wanted you so, I have _wanted_ you so!" she cried. "Oh, +don't be a dream and melt away this time!" + +Will Strong, standing close in the darkness of the oleander, acquiring +a life-long association with smell of Madeira vine and oleander and +wet earth, cry of crickets and noise of sprinkling water, gathered +himself together enough to creep away. He was _going_ to realize it +pretty soon, he thought; he did not yet; it seemed likely to be beyond +endurance when he did. As he passed the door some one opened it, and +the lamp-light streamed about him; Winifred looked around and saw his +face for an instant, and then he had slipped away through a side gate. + +He walked out from town across miles of dark plain, until he came to +the empty channel of the stream by which they had sat in March. +Underfoot not a blade of grass or green thing; no stranger would have +believed that living thing had ever grown there. The flocks and herds +had long since gone to the mountain pastures. The dry channel between +shelvy banks of gravel showed white in the unclouded yet dull +starlight. The air was lifeless, and faintly tainted with smoke from +forest fires in the mountains. + +Will threw himself down on his face, clutching with his fingers at the +gritty dirt. He knew as surely then, looking forward to his life, as +he will know at the end looking back, that this would never be an +out-lived romance. Nor could he creep back into that temple of dreams +from which Winifred's own hand had lured him--it had crumbled to dust +behind him. Nor was he like one who, losing a woman, loses only his +best pleasure and best ambition; she was the vital condition to every +pleasure, every ambition; losing her, he lost all. The realization +clutched him by this time like a tiger. There was not a living +creature within miles; a man might go down to primal depths, might +drop even the restraint of the human in outcries and struggles as free +as a tortured beast's. It may be that solitude sees more such scenes +than a decently decorous world would like to think. + +Yet there was a sense upon him of some moral demand, some decision to +be made; and in time he began to try to collect himself for it. It +would seem as if there could hardly be a position that left less for +him to decide. There was no question of renouncing--he had never had +anything to renounce. Nevertheless, his instinct was correct in urging +him to a moral conflict and a momentous decision. The question was +simply whether he could pick up his life again, could find faith that +anything was worth living for; or whether life was to be a hollow +going through the forms--frustrated, purposeless, full of brooding +regret and jealousy, shame, and sense of wrong. But he could not drag +his bruised mind up to the question; he could not even think what it +was. He lifted himself up, stepped down into the dry channel, and +knelt on the white stones, obeying old association with the attitude; +laid his arms and head on a shelf of the bank, and let the stunned and +nerveless will lie passive, while the accumulated forces of years--of +generations--passion and pain and despair and love, shame and +bitterness and loyalty--trampled back and forth over him, fighting out +for him his battle. + +It was deathly, aggressively still; not an insect to chirp, not a tree +to rustle; only bare earth and sodden air. After a long time Will +raised his head and threw it back, looking up at the dull stars, while +his outstretched hands lay clasped before him; he began to breathe +more deeply. Not many minutes later he rose and walked homeward across +the dim, wide waste. + +It was afternoon of the next day when he stood at Mrs. Stutt's door +again. Mrs. Stutt looked at him with the embarrassment of conscious +pity as she admitted him. People had been looking at him all day, on +the street and in the office, with the same embarrassment and pity. +Miss Northrop was packing, the good woman said; and, in an answer to +her call, Winifred came out from her room into the little +sitting-room. She, too, was evidently under agitation and +embarrassment. Will had no doubt, from his first sight of her face, +that she had seen and understood his haggard flight the evening +before. He was himself entirely calm, as he held out his hand with a +grave smile in silence. + +Winifred tried to speak naturally. + +"I had just sent a note to you, Will," she said, as they sat down. + +"About the school, I suppose," he answered, quietly. "You are going +away at once?" + +"Yes." There she stopped, with her eyes downcast. She looked up to his +face and caught her breath to speak, stopped, and began again. + +"You have been very good to me all this year--" there she hesitated. +Her difficulty was to choose her words so as to ignore his secret, and +yet not part from him in a cold or inadequate way. + +He rose, and crossed over to her. + +"Winifred," he said gently, "you are distressed on my account; and so +it is better that I should speak of what otherwise it would be better +to ignore. I want you to know that you have not harmed me." + +She rose quickly at that, and they stood near together, with their +eyes fixed on each other's; the fulness of expression in her face +seemed to take the place of answer. He went on steadily, speaking low: + +"I have thought it all over, and I find these two things stronger than +any pain that may have come to me. Winifred, I cannot do you this +wrong, to make you the instrument of evil to me. That is one of the +two things. And the other is that there is nothing to reproach any one +with; no one has done wrong; there is no cause for shame, or +resentment, or bitterness--only for clean pain. Pain is no great evil, +Winifred, when it is clean, no matter how sharp." + +He smiled at her tranquilly enough as he spoke. In truth, he was not +unhappy at the moment. It is not during but after the parting +interview that the pinch comes. She answered him only with her deeply +attentive look, and he went on: + +"I did not come to those convictions; they came to me; or rather, they +were in me, and bore down all the other feelings. All the noisy +passions dropped away before them, and left just those clear voices in +my soul. They made all my love and loyalty work together, instead of +tearing me in opposite directions. For, see, Winifred, hasn't it been +our moral faith for years that to do spiritual harm to another is the +greatest evil that can befall one, and to do him spiritual benefit, +the greatest good? All these years since we were in school together, +I have been proud to think that it could be only a good to you to have +me think of you as I have thought, because it was only a good to me. +And I will not be so disloyal now as to let my life be spoiled because +of you." + +Winifred looked at him aghast. "All these years!" It was a revelation +intolerable at first shock to a woman that was no coquette. + +"I think it was all the time dimly in my mind what _your_ last year +had been; at last I went out of my life and into yours. I want you to +understand that I do not think of it with bitterness, because I +entered so little into it; I realize, Winifred"--his voice broke from +its steadiness--"that you have been good, _good_ in it all. If you had +not been--if you had trifled with me--I think I should be at the +bottom of the river to-day. But since no one has wronged me," he went +on more quietly, "since nothing monstrous or unnatural has befallen +me, everything I believed in has the same claim on me as ever. + +"And I want you to know that you need not _mind_ my love, Winifred." +She dropped her eyes and stood mute. "It is something you may be +willing and glad to have without troubling yourself because you cannot +return it. For any pain that has happened, do not trouble yourself +about that either--if I don't mind it, you needn't," he said, smiling +a little, with a certain manly sweetness quite new to him. "I find one +gains something in having no longer to struggle with pain and try to +keep her at arm's length." + +She looked up then, and cried out passionately. "O Will, Will, if only +there was anything in all this world I could do to make it up to you!" + +"There is nothing to make up," he said. "I would rather have pain from +you than pleasure from any one else. But there _is_ something that you +can do; this: not to feel my love a burden laid upon you, an annoyance +or trespass, an anxiety or self-reproach--or anything that will make +you want to get rid of it," he finished, smiling again; "and to let me +give you all I wish, on the condition that I ask no return. And if, in +a few years, I should ask to come and live near you, and be good +friends--may I? It would be hard," he urged, less quietly, "that I +should have to lose your friendship, when I ask nothing more. Would +you take away the crumbs from me, just because I have lost the loaf?" + +"Is that best, Will?" she began, anxious and hesitating. "Oh, I mean +for you. It isn't _possible_ that you can always--think of me--so. +There is no reason. If you do not see me--somebody else--" + +"Have I been seeing you these dozen years?" he said, very gently. "You +may trust me to know what is best for me. Why think--think a moment, +dear friend, and you will understand. You, of all people, _can_ +understand the plane I want you to take me on." + +Winifred's eyes kindled and her face flushed. "I see. I _do_ +understand. I can meet you on your own plane, and I can trust your +friendship and you. I am not afraid to have you come--after a year or +two." + +"Thank you," he said, shaken as he had not been. + +"It is because you are very noble that any good can come out of this +harm," she went on, with an eloquent tremor in her voice. "I can see +that before very long I shall be, as you said, willing--glad--for so +great a gift--only always sorry for your sake. I am very grateful +_now_--I cannot tell you how great a thing I think it is--from such a +man as you." + +They had both become embarrassed and shy now, and both stood silent to +recover their ease. "You leave by this evening's train?" he asked in a +minute. + +"Yes." + +"Then this is good-by." + +"For a while." + +They moved together to the door. As they reached it, Will turned and +held out his hand, with an attempt at a smile. They stood a few +moments with hands clasped. Winifred's downcast eyes were filling. + +"Good-by, Winifred," he said. + +"Good-by," she answered, faintly. A minute later she had thrown +herself sobbing on her bed, and he was walking down the street. + +He met Winifred's lover, coming from the ticket-office--a gentleman +high-bred and handsome in every line, a scholar by his appearance, a +good man by his eyes, a good companion by his smile. There were all +those differences between him and Will that the young man had talked +of and Winifred in all sincerity had called nothing; and, moreover, +she would never in the world have loved him if there had not been. The +girl was an aristocrat after all, when it came to a question not of +friendship but love. And Will knew it; love is penetrating enough to +divine that much from scanty data. He looked at the stranger with a +sort of transferred reverence--what a king of men must he be whom +Winifred could crown! And if he did not look at him without a blinding +pang, it was, nevertheless, a test of the thoroughness of the night's +work that there was neither bitterness nor aversion in it. Something, +that sense of having disarmed pain--not dodged nor outwitted it, but +disarmed it forever--must have been in Winkelried's consciousness as +the spears pressed in. + +But, after all, it is _taking_ the second place that costs--not being +there after it has been once sincerely and thoroughly accepted. Bunyan +knew long ago that it was easy walking in the Valley of Humiliation, +once you had come safely down. + +On the street an acquaintance met Strong and turned to walk beside +him. It was the man who would not trust Judge Garvey out of sight with +his baby's silver mug. + +"I was just going to your office," he said. "It's something very +important." He spoke with a marked friendliness, and a transparently +covert sympathy. "You see," he went on, confidentially, "we fellows +that have been against Garvey begin to think our minority's about +over. The whole affair of Miss Northrop has hurt him. He was shabby +when first she came, about that Coakley business, and he's been ugly +about her ever since in a sneaking sort of way. Such a lady, too! And +there's a thing come out to-day--if you'll excuse my speaking of it." +He showed a certain embarrassment. "Uncle Billy Green gave it away +first--he knew, being postmaster--but Garvey's been boasting of it +himself, too, in the bar-room. You know you used to write to a fellow +in the States, and haven't written to him so much lately." + +"Yes, I know," said Strong. The man caught a hint of what he did not +say in what he did. + +"Uncle Billy gives away any interesting point he gets in the +post-office," he said, apologetically. "You knew that before, Strong. +Well, Garvey got out of him, too, that Miss Northrop didn't have nor +write any letters; and he got it into his head she was hiding. Anybody +could see she wasn't used to working for a living--" + +"Look here--" + +"Bless you, Strong, I sha'n't say a word disrespectful to her. This is +something you'd ought to know. He just did up a 'Clarion' with some +notice about the school in it, and her name marked, and sent it to +that fellow you used to write to; and he wrote on the margin: 'Please +forward to Miss N.'s friends.' He said in the bar-room, to-day, that +he didn't know just what would come of it, but it stood to reason if +she was on the hide, it would damage her or you, somehow." + +"It hasn't, however," said Strong. "But if _I_ stayed round the +bar-room--" + +"Oh, we choked him off. I tell you, Strong, everybody thinks it was a +pretty dirty trick. The people don't care so much about his big +tricks, but they won't stand any such small ones. No money in it, +either--only spite! Well, the long and the short is--it's only a few +weeks till convention; and if you'll take hold now while they're mad, +you can name your own man for Senate, and we'll send you to Assembly." + +"I don't want to go to Assembly," said Will, standing on his +office-step. "I'll gladly do my best to defeat Garvey for Senate." + +"Well, you just decide on your man, and bring him out in your next +paper and we'll elect him. The people are strong for you just now. And +I should think you would look on going to Assembly as a sort of +duty--purify politics, you know." + +"Well--I'll think about it." And young Strong walked into his shabby +office, stopped to give Jim directions, then went in behind his +screen, and sat down to write a proper editorial for beginning the +reform campaign. + + + + +HOW OLD WIGGINS WORE SHIP. + +AN OLD SAILOR'S YARN. + +BY CAPTAIN ROLAND T. COFFIN. + +_The World, N. Y., November, 1878._ + + +"Well, sir," said the old sailor, "here we are ag'in. I ain't been +round here much lately, and atwixt you and me, she's put the 'kybosh' +onto it, holdin' that comin' round here and hystin' are promotin' of +rheumatics, which, as are well known, they come of long and various +exposures in all climates, to say nothin' of watchin' onto a damp dock +night arter night continual. But what's the use? Everybody knows as a +quiet home are better than silver and fine gold, which it stands to +reason are to be obtained in two ways. Wimmin are like sailors in some +respects; whoever has anythin' to do with 'em must either be saddled +and bridled, leastwise, or else booted and spurred. You've got to ride +'em, or else they'll ride you. Bein' a sailorman myself, it ain't +likely as I'd say anythin' ag'in 'em; but if the truth must be told, +I'll say this--that while it'll never do, not at no price, for to let +sailors git the upper hand, there's many a man as has giv' the helm +into the hands of his old woman and made a better v'yage thereby; and +I don't mind sayin', sir, that havin' while follerin' the water got +into the habit of allowin' her for to be skipper in the house durin' +my short stoppin's on shore, it got for to be so much the custom, that +since comin' home for a full due I ain't never tried for to break away +from it; and though human natur' is falliable, and she does make +mistakes, especially about the hystin', on the whole, and by and +large, I judges I've been a gainer by it, as I believes at least eight +men out of ten would be if they took the hint accordin' and went and +done likewise. + +"I don't go for to say as she ever goes to go to say I ain't a-goin' +for to let you go there; but it are terrible aggrivokin' when the +rheumatics twinges awful, and as it might be that this saw-mill don't +want no more splinters laid onto it, to have her feelin'ly remark, +'Well, if you will go round a-guzzlin' ale with your swell friends and +a-leavin' your lawful wife to home alone you must expect to pay for +it,' whereas I know it are the dock and other causes long gone by; but +that knowledge don't ease the pain a morsel, and the last time I were +that way tantalized I swore I wouldn't come here no more. But whatever +are the use? Man resolves and reresolves and then takes another +snifter, and so here I are, and bein' as its cold, as so she sha'n't +have no basis for her unfeelin' remark about guzzlin' ale, we'll let +him make it hot rum, and arter the old receipt, neither economizin' in +the rum or the sugar, but givin' a fair drink for honest money. + +"Well, well (just mix another afore the glass cools off), to think how +the time goes. Here it are autumn ag'in, and in a few weeks 'twill be +winter. It reminds me (I'll take one more, if you please, with one +lump less of sugar and the space in rum) that I'm gittin' old, and I +feels it. My eyes ain't so good and my legs ain't so good, and I ain't +so good all over. When I goes down to the dock my lantern are heavier +than it used to were, and the distance ain't so short as it used to +seem from the dock to the house. Afore many years I'll be put quietly +away, and though I'd prefer bein' beautifully sewed up and launched +shipshape in blue water, with a hundred pound weight for to keep me +down, I s'poses it won't make much difference, nohow. Anyhow, if I +lives as long as old Wiggins, I hopes I may go as well at the end. I +don't think I ever told you about him, and if you'll let him fill 'em +up ag'in--for it's one of the vartues of hot rum that the more you +drinks the thirstier you gits--I'll reel you the yarn right off. + +"Old Wiggins had been all his life into the Liverpool trade and had +got well fixed, so far as cash were consarned; and so when he came for +to be seventy or seventy-two years old he were persuaded for to knock +off for a full due and spend the balance of his life ashore. Goin' up +to some place in Connecticut, he buys hisself a place there and +settles down. Well, for a time he were all right, a-fixin' up his +house, a-buildin' new barns and hen-coops and fences and the like, and +I've heerd tell that the house where he kep' his pigs were better than +any dwellin'-house in that region, and the whole place were the wonder +of the country roundabout; but arter he had fixed his house all up +like a ship, with little staterooms all through the upper part of it, +and had got everythin' inside and out in shipshape order, and there +weren't nothin' else he could think of for to do, he gits terribly +homesick and discontented, and times when he'd come to the city for to +collect his sheer of the profits of ships as he had a interest in, +he'd sit for hours on the wharf a-watchin' the vessels on the river, +and it were like drawin' teeth for to git him to leave and go up to +his home. His eyes had giv' out sometime afore he quit the sea, and +his legs was shaky, so as he had to walk with a settin' pole, and his +hand were tremblin' and unsteady; but aloft he were still all right, +and his head were as clear as a bell. + +"Arter bein' ashore a matter of seven year, he comes to town one day +to see a ship off what he had been in afore he quit, and in which he +had a half interest. The skipper of that ship, which her name were the +Vesuvius, he bein' called Perkins, in comin' from the Custom House +arter clearin', got athwart-hawse of a dray and were knocked down, the +wheels passin' over his legs and breakin' of 'em, and whatever do old +Wiggins do--the home-sickness bein' strong onto him--but says to the +agents, 'It are a pity for to lose a day's fair wind; I'll go aboard +and take her out myself;' and, sure enough, he done it, never lettin' +on to the folks at home, but leavin' the agents to tell 'em arter he +were gone. + +"Into that ship I were shipped, she bein' 830 tons or thereabout, with +three royal yards across, and loaded with flour and grain, there bein' +sixteen of us afore the mast, with two mates, carpenter and cook, and +steward, leavin' on the 16th of November, and, unless I'm mistakened, +in the year 1843. + +"We towed down to the Hook and out over the bar, and then put the +muslin on to her with a fine breeze from sou'west, and I supposes +there weren't a happier man in the world than old Wiggins when he +discharged the pilot and steamer and took charge. + +"'I've giv' 'em the slip,' says he to the mate. 'I've giv' 'em the +slip; they thought I were too old for to go to sea, but I'll show 'em +thar's plenty of life into me yet; git out all the starboard stunsails +and see to it that she's kep' a-movin' night and day, for in sixteen +days I expects to walk the pierhead in Liverpool.' Well, sure enough, +a-movin' she were kep', and I never seen harder carryin's on than I +seen that passage; but we never lost a stitch of canvas, 'cause the +old man not only knowed how to carry it, but he knowed how to take it +off of her when it be to come off, and in a gale of wind he'd 'liven +up wonderful, whereas in light weather he'd show his age. It were +funny for to see him takin' the sun and tryin' to read her off, which +he weren't able for to do, not by no means. + +"'What d'ye stand on?' he'd say to the mate arter screwin' his eye to +the glass and tryin' to make it out; and when the mate would tell him, +he'd say, 'I believe that agrees with me; just take a squint at my +instrument; my eyesight ain't just as good as it used for to be, and I +don't quite make it out.' Then the mate would read him off his +instrument, and arter he'd made it eight bells he'd go down and work +it up and prick her off. The fourteenth day out we made the light on +Fastnet Rock, off Cape Clear, and went bowlin' along the coast, +passin' Tuskar next day, and swingin' her off up channel and round +Hollyhead past the Skerries and takin' a pilot off P'int Lynas. It +were a sight worth seein' for to watch the old man handle her in +takin' a pilot. The wind were fresh from west-nor'west, and we passed +the Skerries with all three royals set and lower topmast and +to'gallan' stunsails on the port side. As soon as ever we passed the +rocks we kep' off for Lynas, and as soon as the stunsails got by the +lee they was hauled in. Then with the wind about two p'ints on the +starboard quarter we went bilin' along for the boat which we seen +standin' off shore just to the east'ard of the P'int. There were a +pretty bubble of a sea on, and afore we gits to him he goes about +standin' in to the bay and givin' sheet. We follers along arter him, +goin' two feet to his one, still carryin' all three royals, with hands +at halliards and clewlines. Just afore we gits to him the old man +sings out, 'Clew up the royals, haul down the flyin' jib, haul up the +crochick and mainsail.' By this time we was well under the land and in +smooth water. Keepin' his eye onto the pilot-boat, which were a couple +of p'ints onto our weather bow, the old man no sooner seen her come to +than he sings out, 'Hard up the helm!' And as we swung off afore the +wind we runned up the foresail and laid the head-yards square; then +mannin' the port main braces we let the to'gallan' yards run down on +the caps and let her come to ag'in, and so nicely had the old man +calculated the distance that as she come to the wind she shot up +alongside of the pilot-boat, stoppin' just abreast of her and not over +twenty foot away. + +"'That was well done, Mr. Mate,' said the pilot, as he come over the +side; 'some of these galoots makes us chase 'em half a day afore we +can board 'em. Fill away the head-yards, put your helm up, run up the +flyin' jib, brail up the spanker check in the arter yards,' and as she +swung off he comes aft to the wheel where I was a-steerin', and says, +'Keep her east-sou'east, my man; giv' us a chew of terbacker.' We +soon had the muslin piled onto her ag'in, and sure enough, as old +Wiggins had said, the sixteenth day out he walked the pierhead in +Liverpool. + +"I understood as old Wiggins was made a good deal on in Liverpool as +bein' the oldest skipper that had ever come there, and the Board of +Trade and what not giv' him dinners, and so on--which, considerin' his +age, he oughtn't to have took--and by other skippers at the hotel he +were much honored, bein' giv' the head of the table and treated with +great deference--and all this dinin' and winin' and feastin' weren't +no good to him--and, arter a stay of three weeks, when we ag'in went +down the river with full complement of passengers and a good freight, +he weren't not by no means as well as when we went in. We had, too, a +tough time down channel, a stiff sou'wester, with rain and thick +weather, and it told onto the old man, so that when arter bein' out a +week we at last got clear of Tuskar and had the ocean open, the relief +from the strain fetched him, and he were took down sick. + +"Whether it were to punish him for comin' to sea at his time of life +or not I don't know; but from this on we did have the devil's own +weather. Gale after gale from the west'ard, shiftin' constant from +sou'west to nor'west, and tryin' constant to see from which quarter it +could blow the hardest. + +"The mate were a plucky and a able young feller, by the name of +Graham, and he kep' her a-dancin' as well as the old man would have +done. Constant she had everythin' put to her that she'd bear, and +always were she kep' on the tack where she'd make the most westin', +and so she struggled along till we was as far as thirty degrees west, +we bein' thirty days out and not yet half way. Every day we asked the +steward how old Wiggins were a-gittin' on, and every day he'd shake +his head and say 'no better;' and it come to be understood, fore and +aft, that it were as much as a toss-up if the old man ever smelled +grass ag'in. We had a little let-up arter gittin' into the thirties, +and for a day or so had fine weather and a chance to dry our dunnage. +Fine days, however, is scarce in January on that herrin' pond--I'll +take just another; mentionin' herrin's makes me dry--and when you gits +'em they are most always weather-breeders. I went up on to the main +royal yard when our side come up at 8 o'clock one mornin' for to sew +on the leather on the parral, and it were like a day in May. Afore I +got the leather sewed on I be to look out for myself, 'cause they was +goin' to clew up the sail, and from that time on it breezed on from +the sou'ard, keepin' us constantly takin' the sail off of her, till at +four bells we was under double-reefed topsails and reefed courses, +with jib, crochick, and spanker stowed. We hammered away under this, +carryin' on very heavy, 'cause she were headin' west-nor'west, which +were a good course, till eight bells in the arternoon watch, when the +sea gittin' up so tremendiously we had to furl the reefed mainsail +and mizzen topsail and close reef the fore and main topsails. + +"You'd think that were snug enough for any ship, now, wouldn't you? +and sartin it are; no ship ever ought to have less canvas than this, +till it blows away, 'cause she's safer with it onto her than with it +off, the reefed foresail supportin' the yard. Well, we'd had gales and +gales, but this here gale beat anythin' that I'd ever seen, and at +seven bells in the first night watch, with a tremendious surge, the +weather leech rope of the foresail giv' way, and in a jiffy away went +the foreyard in the slings--the foresail and fore-topsail goin' into +ribbons. All hands, of course, was busy for'ard, tryin' for to git +some of this wreck stuff tranquillized, when all of a suddint from the +poop come the old man's voice, full and round and clear, and not +shrill and pipin' as we'd heerd it last, and above all the roarin' of +the gale and the din of the slattin' canvas, we heerd him shout: +'Stations for wearin' ship. We must git her head round to the +sou'ard,' he bawled in the ear of the mate, as Mr. Graham struggled +aft; 'the shift will come in less than half a hour, and its goin' to +be tremendious; if it catches us aback it won't leave a stick into +her; but it ain't a-goin' to catch us, sir; I've brung her through +many and many a time like this. I'll bring her through this one, and +then you must do the rest. Now, then,' says he, 'stand by, put your +helm just a few spokes a-weather, don't check her at all with the +rudder, slack a foot or two of the lee braces and check in to +wind'ard; keep your eye constant on that sail, Mr. Clark'--that +were the second mate--'and don't let it shake; keep it good full and +give her away; lay the crochick yard square, and come up to the +main-braces, all of you.' And so, gently, as if she'd been a sick +child, he coaxed her to go off, and she begin to gather way. As soon +as she done so the helm were put hard up, and the main-yard rounded +in, just keepin' the topsail alift, but not permittin' it to shake. As +she went off till she got the sea on the quarter, a mighty wave came +a-rollin' along, boardin' us about the main riggin', floodin' the +decks and dashin' out the starboard bulwarks. The minnit we got the +wind onto the starboard quarter we braced the main-yard sharp up with +the port-braces and bowsed the weather ones as taut as a harp string. +'Now, then,' says the old man, 'never mind that trash for'ard, let +that go; git a jumper on to the main-yard and a preventer main-topsail +brace aloft; lay aloft for your lives, and clap preventer gaskets on +everythin' that's furled; we'll have it soon from the north'ard fit to +take the masts out of her.' He were right. In a short time there were +a instant's lull, and then with a roar that were almost deafenin' came +the cyclone from the north. Thanks to the old man's sagacity and +experience, howsever, we was a-headin' sou'-southeast when it hit us, +and it struck us right aft. + +"'Steady as you go,' shouts the old man, and then, a minnit arter, as +she gathered way, he says ag'in to the mate, 'We must let her come to, +Mr. Graham, we can't run her in the teeth of the old s'utherly sea; +ease down the helm and let her smell of it.' It was a powerful whiff +she took, for as she come to and felt the force of the wind, all three +to'gallan' masts went short off at the cap, the main-topsail sheets +parted, and in an instant there wasn't a piece of the sail left big +enough for a lady's handkerchief. + +"'That's all it can do,' said the old man to the mate, bitterly; 'git +this trash on deck as soon as possible, and git her a-waggin' once +more; I've brung her through it safe, and am goin' home,' and with +that he dropped onto the poop as dead as mutton. He had come on deck +bare-headed and with nothin' on but his drawers and shirt, just as he +had laid in his bunk for a fortnight, and the exposure had carried him +off. However, he knowed that the shift were so near nobody ever could +tell. There were no doubt, however, but that his gittin' her weared +round were our salvation. If that gust had a-struck us aback our masts +would have gone sartin, and it's a toss-up but what we'd a-gone down +starn fust afore she'd a-backed round. Next day we giv' old Wiggins a +funeral fit for the Emperor of Rooshy, and he well desarved it. I +don't know as ever I seen a prettier sew-up than we done on him, +wrappin' him first in the American ensign and then kiverin' him with +brand-new No. 4 canvas. Considerin' the sails we'd lost and how much +we needed the canvas, I think he must have been satisfied that we done +the handsome thing by him. The day was beautiful and clear, although +the wind still blowed a gale. We hadn't been able to do much with the +wreck stuff, except git lashin's onto it for to keep it from swingin' +about, and we hadn't dared for to try for to send up another +main-topsail. We had set the reefed mainsail for to steady her, and +that were all. The three to'gallan' masts was still a-hangin' over the +side, and the ribbons of the foresail and fore-topsail was still +a-flutterin' in the breeze, when at eight bells, at midday, all hands +was called for to bury the dead. Everythin' that we had in the way of +nice clothes we had put on for to do honor to our captain, and most of +us was able to sport white shirts and broadcloth. We laid the old man +onto a plank and kivered him with the union jack, and all hands +gathered round him, while Mr. Graham read the sarvice. Everythin' went +lovely, and just at the proper time we tilted the plank, and he +slipped off without a hitch of any kind. Arter the mate finished the +readin', he said, 'Men, there's a good man gone arter a long life of +great usefulness. He were a sailor and a gentleman. I don't think as +we ought for to cry over sich a man, and I propose we giv' him three +cheers and God bless him'; and heartier cheers was never giv' than we +giv' that day, arter which all hands got dinner." + + + + +"----MAS HAS COME." + +BY LEONARD KIP. + +_Overland Monthly, January, 1870._ + + +It was called Beacon Ledge fully fifty years before the present +lighthouse had been built upon it. For it was said that long ago, when +wrecking was a profitable trade along the coast, and goodly vessels +were frequently, by false lights, decoyed to their destruction, there +was no more favorable point for the exercise of that systematic +villainy than this rocky, high-lifted bluff. Projecting three or four +hundred feet into the sea, with a gradually curved, sweeping line, it +formed, to be sure, upon the one side, a limited anchorage--safe +enough for those who knew it; but, upon the other side, it looked upon +a waste of shoal, dotted, here and there, at lowest tide, with craggy +breakers, and, at high water, smooth, smiling, and deceitful, with the +covered dangers. Here, then, upon certain dark and stormy nights, the +flaming beacon of destruction would glow brightly against the black +sky, and wildly lighten up the cruel faces of those who stood by and +piled on the fagots, while gazing eagerly out to sea to mark the +effect of their evil machinations. Nor was it until some thirty years +ago that the gangs of wretches were thoroughly broken up, and this, +their favorite vantage-ground, wrested from them, and the tall, white +lighthouse there securely founded--maintaining in mercy what had +before been held as a blighting curse; lifting itself, like a nation's +warning finger, and with its calm, serene glow, pointing out the path +of safety. Then, in the mouths of all the surrounding inhabitants, +Beacon Ledge became known as Beacon Ledge Beacon, and so kept its +name, in spite of tautological criticism, or of different and more +formal christening, by Government authority. + +Still, there hung around the place the memories or traditions of past +violence, shipwreck, and murder--partly true, perhaps, but, doubtless, +generally false, having only a few grains of fact or probability +mingled with all kinds of distorted fictions--the deeds of pirates +being supplemented to those of mere wreckers; the imaginations of +fishermen along the coast ever inventing plenteous horrors, and wild +tales of buccaneering rovers, originally written for other localities, +being now wilfully adopted and here located, until, at last, there was +hardly a known crime which could not find its origin or counterpart at +Beacon Ledge, and the whole neighboring shore became a melancholy +storehouse of terrors, disaster, and distress. These tales being +discovered to be very pleasing to most strangers, were carefully +cultivated and enlarged upon by each interested denizen of the place; +and to me, also, for awhile, they had a peculiar charm. I seldom +grew tired of hearing some grizzled, tar-incrusted fisherman reel +off his tissue of improbable abominations. For awhile, I say, since +there came, at last, a day when I cared no longer for such bloody +traditions, forgot the shadowy horrors that flitted about the spot, +and only thought and cared for it as the place where I had met and +loved dear little Jessie Barkstead. + +She was the only child of the lighthouse keeper. In a worldly point of +view, therefore, was it wisely done that I should have set my +affections upon her? Possibly not; and it is likely that, had I known +the weakness of my mind, I would have shunned the danger from the very +first. But I was gay and reckless in my poor self-complacency and +deceitful assurance of inner strength; and long before I had fairly +realized how rapidly I was drifting, I found myself whirling down the +swift current, and was lost. Nor was it a marvel that this should have +so happened. To one who sits aloof in his unromantic, distant home, it +is an easy thing, indeed, to moralize about matters of inferior +station and _mésalliance_; but I believe that few could have seen +little Jessie, as she first appeared to me, and not have felt some +secret inclination to give way before those subtile charms of beauty +and manner which invested her. Moreover, let it here be mentioned +that she was not at all of humble birth or education. Old Barkstead +was himself a gentleman by culture and station, and had once been the +master of a gallant ship. In that important position he had been for +many years a pleasant and popular officer; but at length, in an evil +day, through some temporary weakness or neglect, he had lost his +charge, and almost ruined his employers. The world--with what degree +of truth cannot now be told--had charged the loss upon intoxication. A +storm of obloquy and reproach arose. The man, bowed down with +self-abasement and sensitiveness, had yielded to the blast, and +attempted no defence; and, after awhile, obtaining, through some +friendly influence, the custody of the Beacon Light, he had fled, with +his child, to that obscurity, leaving no trace behind him, and caring +only to pass the rest of his life in the quiet of the world's +forgetfulness. + +I was myself the occasional tenant of a lighthouse, for, during a few +weeks of the summer, I had been visiting the Penguin Light, some four +or five miles distant up the coast. It was a tall and far-reaching +structure, standing upon a jutting point of rock--almost the duplicate +of the Beacon Ledge; the two lights glimmering at each other across +the little bay between, and only to be distinguished apart at night by +the different periods of their revolutions. Penguin Light was in the +keeping of old Barry Somers, a long-known and valued sailor-friend of +mine, who, in past days, had taught me to swim, and sail a boat, and +now seemed to regard his office more for the opportunity it gave of +entertaining me than for its actual salaried value. Thither, +therefore, I would often repair during the summer months, avoiding the +usual crowded haunts, and giving preference to old Barry's pleasant +talk and my solitary rambles along the shore; occasionally running out +to sea, that I might speak friendly pilots cruising in the distance; +and now and then, by way of change and innocent attempt at usefulness, +taking my turn at keeping up and watching over the safety of the +lantern-lamps. + +It was during one of my lonely wanderings along the beach, when, with +gun in hand, I made feeble and unsuccessful attempts against the lives +of the merry little sand-pipers, that I first saw Jessie. She sat upon +a rock, and was gazing out at sea. In her hand was a book, which she +was not reading--who, indeed, could read collectedly, with that fresh +breeze lifting such a pleasant array of dancing white-caps, and +rolling inward those strong bodies of surf, which broke upon the shore +with the ring of sportive Titans? Her handkerchief had fallen off her +head, and her curls were flying wantonly in the breeze. I did not, for +the moment, dream that she had any connection with the lighthouse, +but rather that she was a chance city visitor at some inland +country-house; and so I passed on, not venturing to speak with her. +So, also, the next day, and the next--finding her always there when +I passed, as though that particular hollow in the rock was her own +especial, allotted refuge-place. At last, gaining courage from those +frequent meetings, and, perhaps, from the half smile with which she +began to greet my coming, I addressed her; and so the few words of +salutation gradually lengthened into conversation, and, before we were +well conscious of the fact, had ripened into terms of intimacy. + +How swiftly such matters sometimes proceed, when removed from the +stiffness and ceremony of city life! A week only had passed, and I +began to find that all my walks led in that one direction. Jessie was +always at her place, with the uncompleted book in her hands; and I, +going no farther, would seat myself beside her, throw down my useless +gun, let the poor sand-pipers go undismayed, and so prepare for the +comfortable, pleasant conversation of the morning. It was no +unattractive pastime, indeed, to dispose the dry sea-weed for her +seat; and then, placing my head upon another pile, remain half +reclined at her feet, listening to her lively talk, and pretending to +look out upon the blue waves, when, all the while, I was stealthily +gazing into the deeper blue of her eyes. Nor, when I heard her +story--or, so much of it as at first she deigned to tell me--did I +hold her in less respect. The daughter of the lighthouse, indeed! Why, +truly, this should matter nothing at all to me. What interest could I +have in her past or present associations, or how could they, in any +way, detract from her own native grace and loveliness? Were her eyes +less bright, or was her conversation less cheery, or were her +attitudes less picturesque and pleasing, because old Captain +Barkstead, instead of still sailing a fleet merchantman, now mopingly +cleaned his reflectors, and, when strangers came, hid himself in the +lantern? Moreover, had she not brought with her from her former home, +wherever that might be, a wit, and intellect, and intelligence which +might adorn any position? What more could be needful in promotion of a +quiet sea-side flirtation? In a week or ten days I should go away, and +no longer see her. I should carry off with me the memories of a very +pleasant face, that had always brightened up whenever I came near; and +then, as, after awhile, new forms and scenes came between, I would, of +course, forget her. For a time, she might possibly look out longingly +after my return, and, finding that I did not come back, might--well, +not exactly lose memory of me, I hoped. It was to be desired, perhaps, +that a few thoughts of me would always tinge her future life, I argued +with something of man's selfishness. I would not, indeed, that she +should make herself miserable about me; but if, when her face had +faded from my thoughts, some little record of myself should pleasantly +remain with her, and now and then bring a transitory pang of musing +regret, who should say nay? + +Therefore, in time, I went away. I did not steal off without farewell. +That would have been but sorry recompense for the many cheery hours +she had given me. But, taking her hand in mine, I gave to her my +heartfelt thanks for all the pleasant past, and my cordial wishes for +the future. I did not know that I should ever meet her again, I said. +I hoped, however, that she would not too soon forget me. It was in my +heart to utter more tender and sentimental words than I had any right +to use, but I repressed the inclination. I cherished, too a secret +hope that she would show some sorrow for my departure; but, if she +felt any at all, she did not allow her expression, or her color, to +betray her. With quiet self-possession, yet with a certain interest, +too--as when one gives up a pleasant, valued friend--she bade me +adieu; and so, lifting from her feet the ever-harmless gun, I passed +away, round the border of the little bay, and returned to the city. + +There, however, somewhat to my surprise, I failed to forget her; and +wherever I went, the image of that light, graceful form, seated upon +the rock, began to obtrude itself upon my thoughts. Of course, it was +only a fleeting impression, I reasoned with myself, and would soon +disappear again, as newer scenes and faces forced themselves upon me; +and I plunged rather more wildly than usual into society. But the +proposed remedy did not have its due effect. In fact, it happened that +the routine of gayety and formality seemed, by contrast, to aid the +former impressions, making them seem more real and life-like than +ever. It could not be that I was falling in love! But yet I could not +fail to confess a strange interest; and, while knowing that I was in +danger, was content to let myself drift whither the current might +carry me. + +"I will see her once more. There was something I forgot to tell her +when we parted last," I said to myself, trying in vain to establish +and believe in a transparent self-deceit. "It was about a book, or +something. It weighs upon my mind that she should deem me neglectful +of her wishes. Once more, therefore, and then--" + +"Where away, so late in the autumn?" inquired a friend, who saw me +starting out. + +"Down the bay, blue-fishing!" I exclaimed. "Just the real time for +it." + +"Ah? Well, good-by, then! Rather too cold sport for me, though!" + +Therefore, I saw Jessie again--and yet again after that. Why should I +not confess it?--or, after what I have already told, what is there +left for me to confess, at all? For now, at last, I began to +acknowledge to myself that it was not mere friendship or esteem I +felt, but, rather, the more overpowering passion of real love. Gone, +like a thin veil of vapor, were all my sophistries about a limited +Platonic interest; my dread of incongruous association; my resolves +against possible rashnesses; my fear of the world or its senseless +gossip; my prudence, or my self-restraint! These all seemed to vanish +in a day; and, yielding myself, slavishly, a willing captive to bright +eyes and silvery tones, upon one fine morning I passed the Rubicon of +safety, and offered her my hand and heart. But, to my sore dismay, +she only softly shook her head. + +"You do not love me, then?" I murmured. I spoke not merely with sorrow +and disappointment, but with something of wounded pride--feeling +mortified that she had not at once accepted my devotion. Certainly, it +had seemed to me, all along, that I was not disagreeable to her; and +there was no doubt that in her manner, at least, she had always +cordially welcomed my approach, and taken pleasure in my company. + +"I do not know--I hardly yet can tell!" she faintly said, drawing her +hand from mine. "To me, you are my best and dearest friend; perhaps, +the only one whom I can really call my friend. I know how glad I +always feel when you come hither; how lonely I am while you stay away. +But this I do not think is love--the real, true love which I should +wish to feel." + +"But can it never be?" I pleaded. + +"How can I tell? It might come to that, at last; and yet--" She +ceased, and there came over her face a strange, dead look at the sea +before her--a straining gaze, as though she would fix her eyes far +beyond, in another hemisphere, oblivious of the present. + +"Yet tell me, Jessie, have I a rival? This, at least, you might let me +know. I will not go further, nor will I ask his name." + +For a moment she did not answer: still sitting, with that strange, +rapt, straining gaze, and with an unconscious, mechanical motion, +rolling the little sand pebbles down the side of the rock. + +"There was one," she said, at length. "I hardly know how to tell you +about it. I believe that I cared for him, and yet I never told him so; +nor did he ever tell me that he loved or cared for me, and yet, at the +time, I thought that he did. It was some time ago--a very long time, +it often seems to me; nor do I suppose that he and I will ever meet +again. And now you know almost as much about it as I do myself," she +continued, turning more fully toward me. "Or what more can I say? +There was no pledge given on either side--no uttered words--and, of +course, it has all gone by. But now and then, when I think about it, I +feel regret; and it seems to me as though it were a different and +stronger feeling than that which I have for you. Whether I am mistaken +in my feelings, or how or what I really think, perhaps I cannot well +tell; I am only a simple girl, after all, and know so very little +about love, or what love truly is." + +"Yet, Jessie dear," I pleaded, "if you look upon that old matter as +buried and gone--which, doubtless, it must be--why think longer about +it, instead of turning to the new and truer affection which now I +offer you? Believe me, you are letting your mind dwell merely upon a +dream of the past--one of those vain fancies of girlhood, which, +though for the time they may control the mind, have no real, vital +activity or force." + +"It may be so," she said, in a sort of saddened, half-regretful tone. +"Indeed, it must be so; and it might be that when the influence has +passed away, I may find that I have cared for you better than I have +imagined. I know that, even now, you seem dear to me as a friend, and +that you are kind to me, making me always happy at your coming; yet, +at the same time, I think that there is something wanting in it +all--something which is not love. You see that I am very plain with +you. Better, then, to leave me; is it not so? For I cannot now give +you my heart; nor do I know whether, in the future, I can better do +so; and it is not right that I should keep you at my side, hoping or +expecting what, after all, may never come." + +"Nay, I will not leave you for all that, my Jessie," I said, +impulsively. "I will still remain at your side, and trust even to the +mere chance that, at some future period, you may relent." + +Therefore, dropping the subject for that time, I remained, and sought, +by new kindnesses and attentions, to win some final increase of her +favor toward me, but feeling, at the same time, a little sore and +angry with myself. For, how wretchedly was I now maintaining that +proper independence of spirit, which I had always insisted even the +most blinded and devoted of lovers should feel! Had it not been my +cherished theory that no man should surrender his freedom of heart +without obtaining in return the utmost, unlimited, and unselfish +devotion? Yet, here I was giving up my whole soul to a blind passion, +rendered more and more absorbing, doubtless, by the opposition I +experienced, and for response I found myself willing to be content +with even the cinders of a former and only half-dead affection; +trusting, as so many men have vainly trusted, that by earnest care and +assiduity, I might, at last, re-illume the fading spark, and make its +new brightness glow for me. + +So passed the autumn, during which I made frequent journeys between +coast and city; striving, at times, with the cares of business to +drive her image from my mind, and finding myself continually drawn +back again to that quiet nook which, gifted with her presence, had +become to me the brightest and only happy spot on earth. These +frequent departures, so contrary to my usual habit, soon began to +excite the inquiries and surmises of my friends. Fishing and shooting +protracted into the season so far as almost to touch the edge of the +winter, no longer served as satisfactory excuses for my absences; and +there were some among my friends, who, in their speculations, came +very near the truth, and hinted suspicions of some rustic passion. But +still, turning off their insinuations with a laugh, I kept my +secret--holding it the more carefully and earnestly, as I now began to +see hope dawning for me in the future. + +For now, at last, it seemed as if I was about to prosper in my suit. +Each time that I came, Jessie appeared yet more pleased to see +me--more willing to give me that attractive confidence which can only +exist in full perfection between acknowledged lovers; less disposed to +analyze her mind's emotion with any critical severity, or speculate +whether this or that feeling had, or had not, passed the line between +friendship and love; more ready, at times, to surrender the struggle +and self-examination, confess herself vanquished, and yield up her +whole heart to my keeping. But not quite yet. + +"A little longer," she pleaded. "Let me feel somewhat more sure of +myself before--" + +"And how much longer, then, Jessie?" + +"Till Christmas, George. When Christmas comes, I will either be all +your own, or will send you away forever. Will not that do?" + +"It must, perforce, if I cannot gain better terms," I answered; and I +returned once more to my city life. It was my fixed intention to +remain there resolutely until the Christmas morning itself had come; +but at last, unable to maintain the suspense, I stole back to the +beach once more. It was now only two days from the time. The air was +colder, of course, so that Jessie no longer took her place outside +upon the rock; but we could sit and talk in the shelter of the +lighthouse door, undisturbed by old Barkstead, who usually fretted and +moped out of sight, about half way up the shaft. + +"Only two days more, dear Jessie," I said, "and then-- Will it be well +with me, do you think?" + +"I think--I begin to think it will be well," she said, looking away. + +"Then, if so you think, why should you longer delay your choice?" I +pleaded. + +"Nay, George, it is only two days more. Let it, then, remain as first +we said, and we shall be the better satisfied at having held out to +the proper end." + +Gaining nothing more from her, but feeling, in my own mind, well +assured of ultimate success, I prepared to depart. Not to return to +the city, indeed, for that would scarcely be worth while for such a +little interval--but to the Penguin Light, where Barry Somers, as +usual, had a place ready for me. But, as I was leaving, a sudden idea +struck me--a wild, foolish fancy, it might be--yet, coming, as it did, +with a certain investiture of originality, it fastened itself firmly +and tenaciously upon me, and with animation I returned upon my steps. + +"Listen, dear Jessie!" I said. "Until Christmas morning, therefore, I +will not see you again, for I do not wish thus vainly to renew my +pleadings, and it will be pleasanter to know that when I meet you once +more, it will be with sweet confession on your lips, and the +permission to look upon you thenceforward as my own. But still, while +we are thus separated, can we not commune together?" + +"How, George?" + +"With the lights, dear Jessie. See here, now! Mark how easily we can +arrange our signalling, so that, across the intervening miles, we can +flash our secret intelligence, and no one but ourselves be the wiser! +Look!--I will now write you out some signs, and with them, at night, +we will hold our intercourse. This very evening I will control the +lamps at Penguin Light, and you shall read what I will therewith tell +you. To-morrow you will answer me from here; and I, in turn, will +decipher your sweet words. Will not that be a rare, as well as +pleasant correspondence?" + +At the suggestion, her eyes brightened up with animated excitement, +and at once she prepared to second my plan. How, indeed, could a young +girl help approving of such a novel conception? To talk with +beacon-lights across five miles of foaming, heaving waters, when all +around was dark and dreary!--to flash from one sympathetic heart to +another the glowing signals of intelligence comprehended by no other +persons!--would not that be an achievement which would not only give +pleasure in the actual present performance of it, but also in the +recollection of it throughout future years? So, sitting down again, +she eagerly listened to me, while I, drawing a paper from my pocket, +noted down the requisite tokens, something after the usual signs +employed in ordinary telegraphy--short and simple--and left them in +her possession. I saw at once that she comprehended the principle; so, +feeling no doubt that she would well perform her part, I departed, +reading, in her pleased consciousness of sharing that novel secret +with me, such probable indications of affection, that, for the moment, +I could scarcely resist once more throwing myself upon her pity, and +asking instant assurance of my happiness. + +But I forbore. Were I now to win her, in anticipation of that +predetermined Christmas-day, might it not take something from the zest +of the coming midnight correspondence? + +So, controlling myself, I returned to Penguin Light. I had been a +little troubled with the idea that, perhaps, I might not be able to +manage the matter, after all; but, almost to my joy, I found old Barry +complaining of his rheumatism, hobbling about, and looking wrathfully +up the winding stairs, in surly deprecation of his approaching ascent. +Upon which I seized the favorable opportunity, and, while relieving +him, forwarded my own views. + +"Let it alone for this night, Barry. Do you stay down here and make +yourself comfortable, and I will keep watch in the lantern, and tend +the lights." + +"And can you keep awake, Georgy, my boy, do you think?" + +"Of course I can, Barry." + +Whereupon, for sole answer, Barry stumped away into the closet +below--which he called his room--laid himself carefully away upon +his old blankets, and I mounted to the lantern. There--the hour +of sundown having come--I lighted the lamps, and awaited my time. +That was still some hours off; I was to do nothing until midnight. +Meanwhile, I laid myself down to take a nap. I had promised +watchfulness, but it was hardly necessary in the beginning of the +night. The wicks were then fresh, and it was not likely that any +accident could happen. It was only toward the end of the night, when +the wicks might become incrusted or the reflectors dimmed, that +especial care was needed. + +I awoke again about midnight, the hour appointed for the commencement +of my feat. The sky had clouded over, and not a star was to be seen. +All the better, indeed, for the experiment; for now there was no light +to be seen in any direction, except where down the coast glimmered the +Beacon Ledge Beacon--now faintly coming around the side, then glowing +for a second like the mouth of a distant furnace, as its full focus of +reflectors was pointed directly at me, then fading away, and so, for +an instant, entirely disappearing, as it turned slowly toward the +south. With the thick bank of clouds had come a cold wind from the +north, premonitory of an approaching storm, though it might be days +before it reached us--the only change to be now noted being the +somewhat heavier swell of the surf, rolling up with a dull, sullen +roar along the curve of the rock-bound shore. + +I prepared for action. As I sat in the lantern, the great brazen +frame of polished reflectors swung around, once in each minute, within +a few inches of the side. Beneath was the projecting handle of a +crank, or lever, by pressing upon which the revolution could be +instantly arrested. Stooping down, I could sit at ease, with my head +clear from any contact with the lamps, and in that position could have +the lever-handle within easy reach. + +Waiting for a moment until the reflectors pointed directly toward +Beacon Ledge, I pressed upon the crank, and thereby suspended the +revolution. Thus inert and motionless I held the machinery for a full +minute, and then, lifting the rod, allowed the circuit to recommence, +and gazed anxiously toward the other lighthouse. For a moment, no +response; but then, as its reflectors came slowly around and pointed +toward me, they, too, ceased in their motion for a full minute. With +that my heart exulted. My signal for conversation had been seen and +answered. So far, all went satisfactorily, and there was nothing left +but to commence the main business of the night. + +What should I talk to Jessie about? I could not frame any lengthy +sentences, indeed--for that, time and patience would not suffice. Nor +could I tell her any especial piece of news: all such matters had +already been discussed between us. Nor did it seem any thing but +ridiculous to repeat, in such a labored manner, any of the ordinary +commonplaces about health, or the time, or weather. The most I could +do, in fact, would be to telegraph some short and simple idea, +expressive of my affection for her, and of my ardent faith in its +coming realization. This she would comprehend, and, like a proverb, it +would tell, in brief, a whole long story. + +Watching until the reflectors again came round, I seized the lever, +held the machinery in suspense for a whole minute, and then set it +free again. Another circuit, and this time I arrested the motion for +only fifteen seconds. A third, and here again a suspension of a whole +minute. In this way, by putting the three circuits together, I had +contrived to spell out the letter C--as in a telegraph office the +operator would write a letter, though probably not the same one, with +a long, a short, and a long scratch upon the paper slip. + +Again: and now I let the reflectors remain stationary, first, for a +minute, then twice for fifteen seconds each. This--a long, and two +short arrestations--spelled the letter H. So, little by little, I +wrote out with the lighthouse flash against the dark sky the simple +sentence, + + "_Christmas is coming._" + +It was plain and expressive. It spoke to Jessie of the approaching +day, when she should make her long-deferred decision, and when I so +ardently anticipated that she would be mine. It reminded her that the +time was now only a few hours distant. It told her that even those few +hours were almost too long for me to wait. It was a short message, +indeed, but the difficulty of thus spelling it out, letter by letter, +made it long enough. Already, ere I had finished, my arm, as well as +my attention, was fatigued; and when, at last, I made the long signal +of conclusion, and gained, in reply, the token that I had been +comprehended, I felt that I had done enough for one night, at least. + +Then, remaining awake, with some difficulty, until morning came, I put +out the lights, and went down to see after old Barry. He was better; +his rheumatism had not troubled him as much as he had feared; he would +get up, and himself trim the lights for the coming night, and I had +better lie down and rest. Which I gladly did, for I was tired, indeed, +and began to have a suspicion that, though lighthouse telegraphy might +be a pleasant excitement for once, it was inferior, as a steady means +of communication, to the regularly established mails. So, I slept the +sleep of the weary, if not of the just; and the morning was far +advanced when I awoke. + +The new day was not stormy, as I had partly anticipated it would be, +nor yet was it clear and beautiful. The gale seemed slowly coming on, +but had not quite reached us. The sky was thick with scudding clouds, +racing wildly from north to south; the air was cold and cheerless; the +sea rolled in with a more powerful swell than usual, breaking along +the shore with a boom like that of heavy artillery. The gulls flew +to and fro, screaming and unsettled; a few coasting schooners, +apprehensive of mischief, had put into the land-locked bay and there +lay at anchor, awaiting better weather; and in one place, the +fishermen were dragging their boats away back to the foot of the +bluff, so as to avoid the still heavier swell which must erelong come. +Yet, for all that, the storm had not commenced, and I could easily +have walked over to Beacon Ledge and made my daily visit. + +But still I forbore. I had already told Jessie that I should not see +her again until I came to hear the decision of my fate, and I resolved +that I would be firm. Would it not, beside, spoil the whole romance of +our midnight correspondence were I to visit her again so soon? I had +signalled a greeting to her. What a lowering of sentiment it would be +if now I were to obtain her response in commonplace manner, by mere +word of mouth, instead of by the bright sheen of the lighthouse +itself! Nay, that would never do. So, killing the heavy hours as best +I could, I loitered up and down the beach, shooting at the gulls as +ineffectually as I had before shot at the sand-pipers; watching the +course of a few frightened vessels, which still continued to make for +that little harbor of refuge; and, like a child, making sand-forts on +the beach, for the pleasure of seeing them washed away again by the +next heavy swell. + +Night came at last; and, as before, I volunteered to relieve Barry of +the care of the lamps, and allow him additional opportunity to nurse +his rheumatism. As before, he made some feeble show of hesitation, by +way of reconciling his mind to the proffered rest, and then readily +succumbed. + +"Be it so, Georgy, my boy," he said. "That is, if you are not already +too tired. But I don't feel as bad now as last night, and may yet +crawl up and relieve you." + +"Take it easy, Barry," I said. "It is not much trouble for me. I could +stand it this fashion for a week." + +With that I left him alone in his snuggery, and climbed the stairs +to the top. As upon the previous evening, I lighted the lamps, set +the machine in motion, and then curled myself down in a corner of +the floor to rest till midnight. I did not at once fall asleep, +however. The gale, which had been preparing for the last thirty hours, +now began to come in force, disturbing me with the sound of the +wind--whistling shrilly through every crack and crevice--while the +lighthouse itself constantly trembled with the blast. Even at that +height, I could hear the sullen dash of the breakers against the +shore; and once I could see, by the tremulous movement of lights far +out to the eastward, that a large steamer was passing, and was +laboring toilsomely with a more than usually heavy sea. She was in no +danger, however, and gradually passed away from my line of vision. +Then, at last, I fell asleep, though not into the soft, quiet slumber +which I usually enjoyed. Even in my dreams the tempest followed me, +filling my mind with distorted imaginings. The old stories, which I +had so often heard and of late had forgotten, about pirates, and +wrecks, and wreckers, and cruelties perpetrated upon the beach, now +seemed to take actual life and reality. I could see the dismasted +vessels struggling among the breakers, and the rows of hard, fierce, +expectant faces lining the shore, and awaiting the turning up of the +dead bodies. I was a dead body myself, even, and was being washed up +on the beach, already drowned beyond hope of resuscitation, and yet +strangely conscious of all that went on around me. A hand was placed +roughly upon me, as I lay motionless upon the sand. Then, gaining new +life, I cried aloud, and, waking, found old Barry leaning over me, and +shaking me into consciousness. + +"Look over yonder, Georgy, my boy, at the Beacon Point," he said. "See +how strangely the lights are acting. What do you make of it all?" + +I looked, and saw that the reflectors were pointing, motionless, +toward me--resting there for a full minute; then they swept around +slowly in their accustomed course, and again paused for a minute. +Thereby I deciphered the letter M, and started into full and instant +animation. I had, of course, overslept myself, and thereby, probably, +lost a portion of Jessie's dear message. How much of it, indeed? + +"What is the hour, Barry?" + +"Half-past twelve," he said. "But what do you make of yonder +business? Is it some accident to the works, do you think?--or has old +Barkstead gone on a spree again, as they say he once did, and is now +playing fast and loose with the lights?" + +While he had been speaking, new revolutions, broken, by longer or +shorter pauses, had succeeded; and I deciphered the additional letters +A and S. + +"Whatever it may be, Barry," I then answered--forcing myself to attend +to him, and feeling a little guilty for being obliged to keep the +mysterious secret from him--"don't you see that nothing can be done +about it, now? Go, therefore, to bed again. This cold lantern is no +place for you to remain in. And to-morrow, bright and early, I will go +out myself, and ascertain what may be the matter." + +With that, I gently pushed Barry down the first two or three steps, +and heard him go grumbling and puffing the rest of the way to his own +nook. Meanwhile, the bright signalling from Beacon Point went +on--letter after letter--until, at last, I read out the whole +sentence: + + "_----mas has come._" + +"Christmas has come!" This, of course, was the completion of the +message; for it was not now difficult to supply those letters which, +through my tardy awakening, I had missed. My heart bounded high with +joy and exultation. Sanguinely as I had anticipated a favorable +verdict at Jessie's hands, my utmost hopes had never asked for such a +frank and instant admission of her preference as this. To be reminded, +at the very first stroke of the midnight hour, that the important day +for decision had arrived: what was this but being told that the day +should bring its blessing with it?--that Jessie herself had awaited +its approach as eagerly as I had, feeling as acutely the delay?--that +now there should be no more disguise or misconstruction between us? +Christmas had come! It was, indeed, a frank and noble response to my +message of the night before, telling me that now, at last, she had +surrendered her heart to my safe-keeping. Had it been possible, I +would have run over at once to Beacon Ledge, and pressed her to my +heart. But, of course, not the tempest merely forbade. I must wait +until the more suitable time of morning, still many hours off. +Therefore, composing myself as well as possible for quiet waiting, I +sat, during the remainder of the night, musing over my pleasant +prospects, and watching anxiously for the first ray of morning. + +It came at last--later than usual, for the tempest had not yet abated, +and the approach of day was to be noted rather by the gradual +lightening of the atmosphere, than by any gleam of eastern dawn. Then +I extinguished the lights, stopped the machinery, and descended to old +Barry. + +"I will now cross over to the Beacon Ledge," I said, "and find out +what was the matter last night." + +"Without your breakfast, boy?" growled the old man. + +But what did I care for breakfast! My heart was too full of joy to +care for any carnal needs; and, therefore, with some lame excuse for +my hurry, and a guilty sense of continued deception weighing upon my +mind, I set off, promising a speedy return. The task that I had set +myself was no trifle, and I could not wonder at the solemn shake of +the head with which Barry watched my departure. The tempest was at its +height, and a blinding sheet of rain and ocean-spray drove wildly into +my face at each step. The breakers dashed furiously upon the beach--so +furiously, indeed, that the usual route along the hard-pressed sand +had become impassable, and I was obliged to take a higher path +through the loose, yielding pebbles. But I persevered bravely and +determinedly, though so sorely fettered in my steps, and buffeted in +my face, and, after nearly two hours, reached the other lighthouse. + +I entered without ceremony, and, in the angle of the first flight of +stairs--our usual trysting-place ever since the lateness of the season +had denied us the rock by the sea-side--I found dear Jessie. But +she was not alone. Beside her, and too near, I thought, sat a +pleasant-faced young man, who, at my approach, arose, and with a +miserably counterfeited affectation of indifference, sauntered away. +Jessie also arose, and with whitened face, came forward. + +"Why are you here?" she murmured. "Did I not signal it all to you, so +that you might know the truth, and spare both yourself and me this +meeting?" + +"What do you mean?" I gasped. + +"Did you not understand me, after all, kind friend? You know, indeed, +that I once told you how I had loved another. I had no expectation of +seeing him again, it is true. He was far away with his vessel when we +departed from our little village, leaving, as you know, not a trace +behind us; and, therefore, there was no way in which the secret of our +present retreat could be learned by any one. Nor could I write to him +and tell him, for he had not yet spoken to me of love, and I did not +know but what he would choose, in the end, to forget me. But Fate, +after all, is sometimes kind. Searching for me, without any trace to +guide him, he had almost despaired, when, the night before this last, +coming in from sea, he saw the Penguin Light; and noticing how, while +you were signalling to me, at times it stopped for a moment, he +thought it was the Upper Roadstead Light, and so ran in and made this +little harbor by mistake. Thereby it was that we have chanced to meet +again." + +"But, Jessie, you signalled to me that--" + +"I signalled that Thomas had come. Did you not comprehend? Or can it +be that I had never happened to mention his name to you?" + +"Ah!" I feebly exclaimed, the light breaking in upon me; "Thomas was +the word, then, was it? I thought--but no matter now for my thoughts. +Well, farewell, Jessie. There can be no good word or wish that any one +may give you that will not always be uttered twofold from my heart. +You know it, kind friend, do you not?" + +"I know it, George, indeed," she said. + +And, tearing myself from her, I returned to city life. There I gave +myself once more up to business and its cares, in hopes of drowning my +disappointment; and now, after long months of sad regret, I have +nearly succeeded, and have become myself again. But, at times, I lie +awake in the middle of the night and listen to the city's roar, and in +the sound I seem to hear once more the play of breakers on the shore +at Beacon Ledge; and then I think, with sadness, how different might +have been my lot, had I not so foolishly determined to utter, with the +lighthouse lamps, and so many miles across, those words of greeting +which should have been softly whispered instead, by lowly pleading +lips, into closely attentive, willing ears. + + + + +TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE: + +Minor changes have been made to correct typesetters' errors; otherwise +every effort has been made to remain true to the authors' words and +intent. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Stories by American Authors, Volume 9, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STORIES--AMERICAN AUTHORS, VOL 9 *** + +***** This file should be named 31194-8.txt or 31194-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/1/1/9/31194/ + +Produced by D Alexander, Juliet Sutherland and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +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. 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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: Stories by American Authors, Volume 9 + +Author: Various + +Release Date: February 6, 2010 [EBook #31194] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STORIES--AMERICAN AUTHORS, VOL 9 *** + + + + +Produced by D Alexander, Juliet Sutherland and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<p class="front1"><span style="margin-left: 5em;">Stories by</span></p> +<p class="front2"><span style="margin-right: 5em;">American Authors</span></p> + +<h3>VOLUME IX</h3> + +<p class="gap"> </p> + +<div class="centered"> +<table border="0" width="80%" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="1" summary="CONTENTS"> + +<tr> +<td align="left"><a href="#MARSE_CHAN"><i>MARSE CHAN</i></a></td> +<td class="bl" align="center"> </td> +<td align="left"><a href="#YOUNG_STRONG_OF_THE_CLARION"><i>YOUNG STRONG OF “THE</i><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;"><i>CLARION”</i></span></a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="right"><small>BY THOMAS NELSON PAGE</small></td> +<td class="bl" align="center"> </td> +<td align="right"><small>BY MILICENT WASHBURN SHINN</small></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="left"><a href="#MR_BIXBYS_CHRISTMAS_VISITOR"><i>MR. BIXBY’S CHRISTMAS VISITOR</i></a></td> +<td class="bl" align="center"> </td> +<td align="left"><a href="#HOW_OLD_WIGGINS_WORE_SHIP"><i>HOW OLD WIGGINS WORE SHIP</i></a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="right"><small>BY CHARLES S. GAGE</small></td> +<td class="bl" align="center"> </td> +<td align="right"><small>BY CAPTAIN ROLAND T. COFFIN</small></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="left"><a href="#ELI"><i>ELI</i></a></td> +<td class="bl" align="center"> </td> +<td align="left"><a href="#mdashMAS_HAS_COME"><i>“——MAS HAS COME”</i></a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="right"><small>BY C. H. WHITE</small></td> +<td class="bl" align="center"> </td> +<td align="right"><small>BY LEONARD KIP</small></td></tr> +</table></div> + +<h4>NEW YORK</h4> +<h3>CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS</h3> +<h4>1896</h4> + +<hr class="large" /> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Copyright, 1885, by</span><br /> +CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS</p> + +<hr class="large" /> + +<div class="centerbox bbox"><small><sup>*</sup><sub>*</sub><sup>*</sup></small> <i>The Stories in this Volume are protected by<br /> +copyright, and are printed here by authority of the authors or their representatives.</i></div> + +<hr class="large" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 310px;"> +<img src="images/frontis.jpg" width="310" height="500" alt="Thos. N. Page" title="" /> +</div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="MARSE_CHAN" id="MARSE_CHAN"></a>MARSE CHAN.</h2> + +<h3>A TALE OF OLD VIRGINIA.</h3> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">By Thomas Nelson Page.</span></p> + +<p class="center">⁂ <i>Century Magazine April, 1884.</i></p> + +<p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:2px;padding-bottom:1px;">O</span>ne afternoon, in the autumn of 1872, I was riding leisurely down the +sandy road that winds along the top of the water-shed between two of +the smaller rivers of eastern Virginia. The road I was travelling, +following “the ridge” for miles, had just struck me as most +significant of the character of the race whose only avenue of +communication with the outside world it had formerly been. Their once +splendid mansions, now fast falling to decay, appeared to view from +time to time, set back far from the road, in proud seclusion among +groves of oak and hickory now scarlet and gold with the early frost. +Distance was nothing to this people; time was of no consequence to +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span>them. They desired but a level path in life, and that they had, +though the way was longer and the outer world strode by them as they +dreamed.</p> + +<p>I was aroused from my reflections by hearing some one ahead of me +calling, “Heah!—heah-whoo-oop, heah!”</p> + +<p>Turning the curve in the road, I saw just before me a negro standing, +with a hoe and a watering-pot in his hand. He had evidently just +gotten over the “worm-fence” into the road, out of the path which led +zigzag across the “old field” and was lost to sight in the dense +growth of sassafras. When I rode up, he was looking anxiously back +down this path for his dog. So engrossed was he that he did not even +hear my horse, and I reined in to wait until he should turn around and +satisfy my curiosity as to the handsome old place half a mile off from +the road.</p> + +<p>The numerous out-buildings and the large barns and stables told that +it had once been the seat of wealth, and the wild waste of sassafras +that covered the broad fields gave it an air of desolation that +greatly excited my interest. Entirely oblivious of my proximity, the +negro went on calling, “Whoo-oop, heah!” until along the path, walking +very slowly and with great dignity, appeared a noble-looking old +orange and white setter, gray with age, and corpulent with excessive +feeding. As soon as he came in sight, his master began:</p> + +<p>“Yes, dat you! You gittin’ deaf as well as bline, I s’pose! Kyarnt +heah me callin’, I reckon? Whyn’t yo’ come on, dawg?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span></p><p>The setter sauntered slowly up to the fence and stopped without even +deigning a look at the speaker, who immediately proceeded to take the +rails down, talking meanwhile:</p> + +<p>“Now, I got to pull down de gap, I s’pose! Yo’ so sp’ilt yo’ kyahn’ +hardly walk. Jes’ ez able to git over it as I is! Jes’ like white +folks—t’ink ’cuz you’s white and I’s black, I got to wait on yo’ all +de time. Ne’m mine, I ain’ gwi’ do it!”</p> + +<p>The fence having been pulled down sufficiently low to suit his +dogship, he marched sedately through, and, with a hardly perceptible +lateral movement of his tail, walked on down the road. Putting up the +rails carefully, the negro turned and saw me.</p> + +<p>“Sarvent, marster,” he said, taking his hat off. Then, as if +apologetically for having permitted a stranger to witness what was +merely a family affair, he added: “He know I don’ mean nothin’ by what +I sez. He’s Marse Chan’s dawg, an’ he’s so ole he kyahn git long no +pearter. He know I’se jes’ prodjickin’ wid ’im.”</p> + +<p>“Who is Marse Chan?” I asked; “and whose place is that over there—and +the one a mile or two back—the place with the big gate and the carved +stone pillars?”</p> + +<p>“Marse Chan,” said the darkey, “he’s Marse Channin’—my young marster; +an’ dem places—dis one’s Weall’s, an’ de one back dyar wid de rock +gate-pos’s is ole Cun’l Chahmb’lin’s. Dey don’ nobody live dyar +now, ’cep’ niggers. Arfter <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span>de war some one or nudder bought our place, +but his name done kind o’ slipped me. I nuvver hearn on ’im befo’; I +think dey’s half-strainers. I don’ ax none on ’em no odds. I lives +down de road heah, a little piece, an’ I jes’ steps down of a evenin’ +and looks arfter de graves.”</p> + +<p>“Well, where is Marse Chan?” I asked.</p> + +<p>“Hi! don’ you know? Marse Chan, he went in de army. I wuz wid ’im. Yo’ +know he warn’ gwine an’ lef’ Sam.”</p> + +<p>“Will you tell me all about it?” I said, dismounting.</p> + +<p>Instantly, and as if by instinct, the darkey stepped forward and took +my bridle. I demurred a little; but with a bow that would have honored +old Sir Roger, he shortened the reins, and taking my horse from me, +led him along.</p> + +<p>“Now tell me about Marse Chan,” I said.</p> + +<p>“Lawd, marster, hit’s so long ago, I’d a’most forgit all about it, ef +I hedn’ been wid him ever sence he wuz born. Ez ’tis, I remembers it +jes’ like ’twuz yistiddy. Yo’ know Marse Chan an’ me—we wuz boys +togedder. I wuz older’n he wuz, jes’ de same ez he wuz whiter’n me. I +wuz born plantin’ corn time, de spring arfter big Jim an’ de six +steers got washed away at de upper ford right down dyar b’low de +quarters ez he wuz a bringin’ de Chris’mas things home; an’ Marse +Chan, he warn’ born tell mos’ to der harves’ arfter my sister Nancy +married Cun’l Chahmb’lin’s Torm, ’bout eight years arfterwards.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span></p><p>“Well, when Marse Chan wuz born dey wuz de grettes’ doin’s at home you +ever did see. De folks all hed holiday, jes’ like in de Chris’mas. Ole +marster (we didn’ call ’im <i>ole</i> marster tell arfter Marse Chan wuz +born—befo’ dat he wuz jes’ de marster, so)—well, ole marster, his +face fyar shine wid pleasure, an’ all de folks wuz mighty glad, too, +’cause dey all loved ole marster, and aldo’ dey did step aroun’ right +peart when ole marster wuz lookin’ at ’em, dyar warn’ nyar han’ on de +place but what, ef he wanted anythin’, would walk up to de back poach, +an’ say he warn’ to see de marster. An’ ev’ybody wuz talkin’ ’bout de +young marster, an’ de maids an’ de wimmens ’bout de kitchen wuz sayin’ +how ’twuz de purties’ chile dey ever see; an’ at dinner-time de mens +(all on ’em hed holiday) come roun’ de poach an’ ax how de missis an’ +de young marster wuz, an’ ole marster come out on de poach an’ smile +wus’n a ’possum, an’ sez, ‘Thankee! Bofe doin’ fust rate, boys;’ an’ +den he stepped back in de house, sort o’ laughin’ to hisse’f, an’ in a +minute he come out ag’in wid de baby in he arms, all wrapped up in +flannens an’ things, an’ sez, ‘Heah he is, boys.’ All de folks den, +dey went up on de poach to look at ’im, drappin’ dey hats on de steps, +an’ scrapin’ dey feets ez dey went up. An’ pres’n’y ole marster, +lookin’ down at we all chil’en all packed togedder down deah like a +parecel o’ sheep-burrs, cotch sight o’ <i>me</i> (he knowed my name, ’cause +I use’ to hole he hoss fur ’im sometimes; but he <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span>didn’ know all de +chil’en by name, dey wuz so many on ’em), an’ he sez, ‘Come up heah.’ +So up I goes tippin’, skeered like, an’ old marster sez, ‘Ain’ you +Mymie’s son?’ ‘Yass, seh,’ sez I. ‘Well,’ sez he, ‘I’m gwine to give +you to yo’ young Marse Channin’ to be his body-servant,’ an’ he put de +baby right in my arms (it’s de truth I’m tellin’ you!), an’ yo’ jes’ +ought to a-heard de folks sayin’, ‘Lawd! marster, dat boy’ll drap dat +chile!’ ‘Naw, he won’t,’ sez marster; ‘I kin trust ’im.’ And den he +sez: ‘Now, Sam, from dis time you belong to yo’ young Marse Channin’; +I wan’ you to tek keer on ’im ez long ez he lives. You are to be his +boy from dis time. An’ now,’ he sez, ‘carry ’im in de house.’ An’ he +walks arfter me an’ opens de do’s fur me, an’ I kyars ’im in my arms, +an’ lays ’im down on de bed. An’ from dat time I wuz tooken in de +house to be Marse Channin’s body-servant.</p> + +<p>“Well, you nuvver see a chile grow so. Pres’n’y he growed up right +big, an’ ole marster sez he must have some edication. So he sont ’im +to school to ole Miss Lawry down dyar, dis side o’ Cun’l Chahmb’lin’s, +an’ I use’ to go ’long wid ’im an’ tote he books an’ we all’s snacks; +an’ when he larnt to read an’ spell right good, an’ got ’bout so-o +big, old Miss Lawry she died, an’ ole marster said he mus’ have a man +to teach ’im an’ trounce ’im. So we all went to Mr. Hall, whar kep’ de +school-house beyant de creek, an’ dyar we went ev’y day, ’cep’ +Sat’d’ys of co’se, an’ sich days <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span>ez Marse Chan din’ warn’ go, an’ ole +missis begged ’im off.</p> + +<p>“Hit wuz down dyar Marse Chan fust took notice o’ Miss Anne. Mr. Hall, +he taught gals ez well ez boys, an’ Cun’l Chahmb’lin he sont his +daughter (dat’s Miss Anne I’m talkin’ about). She wuz a leetle bit o’ +gal when she fust come. Yo’ see, her ma wuz dead, an’ ole Miss Lucy +Chahmb’lin, she lived wid her brudder an’ kep’ house for ’im; an’ he +wuz so busy wid politics, he didn’ have much time to spyar, so he sont +Miss Anne to Mr. Hall’s by a ’ooman wid a note. When she come dat day +in de school-house, an’ all de chil’en looked at her so hard, she tu’n +right red, an’ tried to pull her long curls over her eyes, an’ den put +bofe de backs of her little han’s in her two eyes, an’ begin to cry to +herse’f. Marse Chan he was settin’ on de een’ o’ de bench nigh de do’, +an’ he jes’ reached out an’ put he arm roun’ her an’ drawed her up to +’im. An’ he kep’ whisperin’ to her, an’ callin’ her name, an’ coddlin’ +her; an’ pres’n’y she took her han’s down an’ begin to laugh.</p> + +<p>“Well, dey ’peared to tek’ a gre’t fancy to each udder from dat time. +Miss Anne she warn’ nuthin’ but a baby hardly, an’ Marse Chan he wuz a +good big boy ’bout mos’ thirteen years ole, I reckon. Hows’ever, dey +sut’n’y wuz sot on each udder an’ (yo’ heah me!) ole marster an’ Cun’l +Chahmb’lin dey ’peared to like it ’bout well ez de chil’en. Yo’ see +Cun’l Chahmb’lin’s place <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span>j’ined ourn, an’ it looked jes’ ez natural +fur dem two chil’en to marry an’ mek it one plantation, ez it did fur +de creek to run down de bottom from our place into Cun’l Chahmb’lin’s. +I don’ rightly think de chil’en thought ’bout gittin’ <i>married</i>, not +den, no mo’n I thought ’bout marryin’ Judy when she wuz a little gal +at Cun’l Chahmb’lin’s, runnin’ ’bout de house, huntin’ fur Miss Lucy’s +spectacles; but dey wuz good frien’s from de start. Marse Chan he use’ +to kyar Miss Anne’s books fur her ev’y day, an’ ef de road wuz muddy +or she wuz tired, he use’ to tote her; an’ ’twarn’ hardly a day passed +dat he didn’ kyar her some’n’ to school—apples or hick’y nuts, or +some’n’. He wouldn’ let none o’ de chil’en tease her, nudder. Heh! One +day, one o’ de boys poked he finger at Miss Anne, an’ arfter school +Marse Chan he axed ’im ’roun’ hine de school-house out o’ sight, an’ +ef he didn’ whop ’im!</p> + +<p>“Marse Chan, he wuz de peartes’ scholar ole Mr. Hall hed, an’ Mr. Hall +he wuz mighty proud o’ ’im. I don’ think he use’ to beat ’im ez much +ez he did de udders, aldo’ he wuz de head in all debilment dat went +on, jes’ ez he wuz in sayin’ he lessons.</p> + +<p>“Heh! one day in summer, jes’ ’fo’ de school broke up, dyah come up a +storm right sudden, an’ riz de creek (dat one yo’ cross’ back yonder), +an’ Marse Chan he toted Miss Anne home on he back. He ve’y off’n did +dat when de parf wuz muddy. But dis day when dey come to de creek, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span>it +had done washed all de logs ’way. ’Twuz still mighty high, so Marse +Chan he put Miss Anne down, an’ he took a pole an’ waded right in. Hit +took ’im long up to de shoulders. Den he waded back, an’ took Miss +Anne up on his head an’ kyar’d her right over. At fust she wuz +skeered; but he tol’ her he could swim an’ wouldn’ let her git hu’t, +an’ den she let ’im kyar her ’cross, she hol’in’ his han’s. I warn’ +’long dat day, but he sut’n’y did dat thing.</p> + +<p>“Ole marster he wuz so pleased ’bout it, he giv’ Marse Chan a pony; +an’ Marse Chan rode ’im to school de day arfter he come, so proud, an’ +sayin’ how he wuz gwine to let Anne ride behine ’im; an’ when he come +home dat evenin’ he wuz walkin’. ‘Hi! where’s yo’ pony?’ said ole +marster. ‘I give ’im to Anne,’ says Marse Chan. ‘She liked ’im, an’—I +kin walk.’ ‘Yes,’ sez ole marster, laughin’, ‘I s’pose you’s already +done giv’ her yo’se’f, an’ nex’ thing I know you’ll be givin’ her this +plantation and all my niggers.’</p> + +<p>“Well, about a fortnight or sich a matter arfter dat, Cun’l Chahmb’lin +sont over an’ invited all o’ we all over to dinner, an’ Marse Chan wuz +’spressly named in de note whar Ned brought; an’ arfter dinner he made +ole Phil, whar wuz his ker’ige-driver, bring roun’ Marse Chan’s pony +wid a little side-saddle on ’im, an’ a beautiful little hoss wid a +bran’-new saddle an’ bridle on ’im; an’ he gits up an’ meks Marse Chan +a gre’t speech, an’ presents ’im de little hoss; an’ den he calls Miss +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span>Anne, an’ she comes out on de poach in a little ridin’ frock, an’ dey +puts her on her pony, an’ Marse Chan mounts his hoss, an’ dey goes to +ride, while de grown folks is a-laughin’ an’ chattin’ an’ smokin’ dey +cigars.</p> + +<p>“Dem wuz good ole times, marster—de bes’ Sam ever see! Dey wuz, in +fac’! Niggers didn’ hed nothin’ ’t all to do—jes’ hed to ’ten’ to de +feedin’, an’ cleanin’ de hosses, an’ doin’ what de marster tell ’em to +do; an’ when dey wuz sick, dey had things sont ’em out de house, an’ +de same doctor come to see ’em whar ’ten’ to de white folks when dey +wuz po’ly. Dyar warn’ no trouble nor nothin’.</p> + +<p>“Well, things tuk a change arfter dat. Marse Chan he went to de +bo’din’ school, whar he use’ to write to me constant. Ole missis use’ +to read me de letters, an’ den I’d git Miss Anne to read ’em ag’in to +me when I’d see her. He use’ to write to her too, an’ she use’ to +write to him too. Den Miss Anne she wuz sont off to school too. An’ in +de summer time dey’d bofe come home, an’ yo’ hardly knowed whether +Marse Chan lived at home or over at Cun’l Chahmb’lin’s. He wuz over +dyah constant. ’Twuz always ridin’ or fishin’ down dyah, in de river; +or sometimes he’ go over dyah, an’ ’im an’ she’d go out an’ set in de +yard onder de trees; she settin’ up mekin’ out she wuz knittin’ some +sort o’ bright-cullored some’n’, wid de grarss growin’ all up ’g’inst +her, an’ her hat th’owed back on her neck, an’ he readin’ to her <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span>out +books; an’ sometimes dey’d bofe read out de same book, fust one an’ +den todder. I use’ to see ’em! Dat wuz when dey wuz growin’ up like.</p> + +<p>“Den ole marster he run for Congress, an’ ole Cun’l Chahmb’lin he wuz +put up to run ’g’inst ole marster by de Dimicrats; but ole marster he +beat ’im. Yo’ know he wuz gwine do dat! Co’se he wuz! Dat made ole +Cun’l Chahmb’lin mighty mad, and dey stopt visitin’ each udder +reg’lar, like dey had been doin’ all ’long. Den Cun’l Chahmb’lin he +sort o’ got in debt, an’ sell some o’ he niggers, an’ dat’s de way de +fuss begun. Dat’s whar de lawsuit cum from. Ole marster he didn’ like +nobody to sell niggers, an’ knowin’ dat Cun’l Chahmb’lin wuz sellin’ +o’ his, he writ an’ offered to buy his M’ria an’ all her chil’en, +’cause she hed married our Zeek’yel. An’ don’ yo’ t’ink, Cun’l +Chahmb’lin axed ole marster mo’ ’n th’ee niggers wuz wuth fur M’ria. +Befo’ old marster bought her, dough, de sheriff cum an’ levelled on +M’ria an’ a whole parecel o’ udder niggers. Ole marster he went to de +sale, an’ bid for ’em; but Cun’l Chahmb’lin he got some one to bid +’g’’nst ole marster. Dey wuz knocked out to ole marster dough, an’ den +dey hed a big lawsuit, an’ ole marster wuz agwine to co’t, off an’ on, +fur some years, till at lars’ de co’t decided dat M’ria belonged to +ole marster. Ole Cun’l Chahmb’lin den wuz so mad he sued ole marster +for a little strip o’ lan’ down dyah on de line fence, whar he said +belonged to ’im. Ev’ybody knowed hit belonged <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span>to ole marster. Ef yo’ +go down dyah now, I kin show it to yo’, inside de line fence, whar it +hed done bin ever since long befo’ ole marster wuz born. But Cun’l +Chahmb’lin wuz a mons’us perseverin’ man, an’ ole marster he wouldn’ +let nobody run over ’im. No, dat he wouldn’! So dey wuz agwine down to +co’t about dat, fur I don’ know how long, till ole marster beat ’im.</p> + +<p>“All dis time, yo’ know, Marse Chan wuz a-goin’ back’ads an’ for’ads +to college, an’ wuz growed up a ve’y fine young man. He wuz a ve’y +likely gent’man! Miss Anne she hed done mos’ growed up, too—wuz +puttin’ her hyar up like ole missis use’ to put hers up, an’ ’twuz +jes’ ez bright ez de sorrel’s mane when de sun cotch on it, an’ her +eyes wuz gre’t big dark eyes, like her pa’s, on’y bigger an’ not so +fierce, an’ ’twarn’ none o’ de young ladies ez purty ez she wuz. She +an’ Marse Chan still set a heap o’ sto’ by one ’nudder, but I don’ +t’ink dey wuz easy wid each udder ez when he used to tote her home +from school on his back. Marse Chan he use’ to love de ve’y groun’ she +walked on, dough, in my ’pinion. Heh! His face ’twould light up +whenever she come into chu’ch, or anywhere, jes’ like de sun hed come +th’oo a chink on it suddenly.</p> + +<p>“Den ole marster lost he eyes. D’ yo’ ever hyah ’bout dat? Heish! +Didn’ yo’? Well, one night de big barn cotch fire. De stables, yo’ +know, wuz under de big barn, an’ all de hosses wuz in dyah. Hit +’peared to me like ’twarn’ no time befo’ <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span>all de folks an’ de +neighbors dey come, an’ dey wuz a-totin’ water, an’ a-tryin’ to save +de po’ critters, an’ dey got a heap on ’em out; but de ker’ige-hosses +dey wouldn’ come out, an’ dey wuz a-runnin’ back’ads an’ for’ads +inside de stalls, a-nikerin’ an’ a-screamin’, like dey knowed dey time +hed come. Yo’ could heah ’em so pitiful, an’ pres’n’y ole marster said +to Ham Fisher (he wuz de ker’ige-driver), ‘Go in dyah an’ try to save +’em; don’ let ’em bu’n to death.’ An’ Ham he went right in. An’ jes’ +arfter he got in, de shed whar it hed fus’ cotch fell in, an’ de +sparks shot ’way up in de air; an’ Ham didn’ come back, an’ de fire +begun to lick out under de eaves over whar de ker’ige-hosses’ stalls +wuz, an’ all of a sudden ole marster tu’ned and kissed ole missis, who +wuz standin’ nigh him, wid her face jes’ ez white ez a sperit’s, an’, +befo’ anybody knowed what he wuz gwine do, jumped right in de do’, an’ +de smoke come po’in’ out behine ’im. Well, seh, I nuvver ’specks to +hyah tell Judgment sich a soun’ ez de folks set up. Ole missis she +jes’ drapt down on her knees in de mud an’ prayed out loud. Hit +’peared like her pra’r wuz heard; for in a minit, right out de same +do’, kyarin’ Ham Fisher in his arms, come ole marster, wid his clo’es +all blazin’. Dey flung water on ’im, an’ put ’im out; an’, ef you +b’lieve me, yo’ wouldn’ a-knowed ’twuz ole marster. Yo’ see, he hed +find Ham Fisher done fall down in de smoke right by de ker’ige-hoss’ +stalls, whar he sont him, an’ he hed to tote ’im <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span>back in his arms +th’oo de fire what hed done cotch de front part o’ de stable, an’ to +keep de flame from gittin’ down Ham Fisher’s th’ote he hed tuk off his +own hat and mashed it all over Ham Fisher’s face, an’ he hed kep’ Ham +Fisher from bein’ so much bu’nt; but <i>he</i> wuz bu’nt dreadful! His +beard an’ hyar wuz all nyawed off, an’ his face an’ han’s an’ neck wuz +scorified terrible. Well, he jes’ laid Ham Fisher down, an’ then he +kind o’ staggered for’ad, an’ ole missis ketch’ ’im in her arms. Ham +Fisher, he warnt bu’nt so bad, an’ he got out in a month or two; an’ +arfter a long time, ole marster he got well, too; but he wuz always +stone bline arfter dat. He nuvver could see none from dat night.</p> + +<p>“Marse Chan he comed home from college toreckly, an’ he sut’n’y did +nuss ole marster faithful—jes’ like a ’ooman. Den he took charge o’ +de plantation arfter dat; an’ I use’ to wait on ’im jes’ like when we +wuz boys togedder; an’ sometimes we’d slip off an’ have a fox-hunt, +an’ he’d be jes’ like he wuz in ole times, befo’ ole marster got +bline, an’ Miss Anne Chahmb’lin stopt comin’ over to our house, an’ +settin’ onder de trees, readin’ out de same book.</p> + +<p>“He sut’n’y wuz good to me. Nothin’ nuvver made no diffunce ’bout dat. +He nuvver hit me a lick in his life—an’ nuvver let nobody else do it, +nudder.</p> + +<p>“I ’members one day, when he wuz a leetle bit o’ boy, ole marster hed +done tole we all chil’en not <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span>to slide on de straw-stacks; an’ one day +me an’ Marse Chan thought ole marster hed done gone ’way from home. We +watched him git on he hoss an’ ride up de road out o’ sight, an’ we +wuz out in de field a-slidin’ an’ a-slidin’, when up comes ole +marster. We started to run; but he hed done see us, an’ he called us +to come back; an’ sich a whoppin’ ez he did gi’ us!</p> + +<p>“Fust he took Marse Chan, an’ den he teched me up. He nuvver hu’t me, +but in co’se I wuz a-hollerin’ ez hard ez I could stave it, ’cause I +knowed dat wuz gwine mek him stop. Marse Chan he hed’n open he mouf +long ez ole marster wuz tunin’ ’im; but soon ez he commence warmin’ me +an’ I begin to holler, Marse Chan he bu’st out cryin’, an’ stept right +in befo’ ole marster, an’ ketchin’ de whop, sed:</p> + +<p>“‘Stop, seh! Yo’ sha’n’t whop ’im; he b’longs to me, an’ ef you hit +’im another lick I’ll set ’im free!’</p> + +<p>“I wish yo’ hed see ole marster. Marse Chan he warn’ mo’n eight years +ole, an’ dyah dey wuz—ole marster stan’in’ wid he whop raised up, an’ +Marse Chan red an’ cryin’, hol’in’ on to it, an’ sayin’ I b’longst to +’im.</p> + +<p>“Ole marster, he raise’ de whop, an’ den he drapt it, an’ broke out in +a smile over he face, an’ he chuck’ Marse Chan onder der chin, an’ +tu’n right roun’ an’ went away, laughin’ to hisse’f, an’ I heah’ ’im +tellin’ ole missis dat evenin’, an’ laughin’ ’bout it.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span></p><p>“’Twan’ so mighty long arfter dat when dey fust got to talkin’ ’bout +de war. Dey wuz a-dictatin’ back’ads an’ for’ads ’bout it fur two or +th’ee years ’fo’ it come sho’ nuff, you know. Ole marster, he wuz a +Whig, an’ of co’se Marse Chan he tuk after he pa. Cun’l Chahmb’lin, he +wuz a Dimicrat. He wuz in favor of de war, an’ ole marster and Marse +Chan dey wuz agin’ it. Dey wuz a-talkin’ ’bout it all de time, an’ +purty soon Cun’l Chahmb’lin he went about ev’vywhar speakin’ an’ +noratin’ ’bout Firginia ought to secede; an’ Marse Chan he wuz picked +up to talk agin’ ’im. Dat wuz de way dey come to fight de duil. I +sut’n’y wuz skeered fur Marse Chan dat mawnin’, an’ he was jes’ ez +cool! Yo’ see, it happen so: Marse Chan he wuz a-speakin’ down at de +Deep Creek Tavern, an’ he kind o’ got de bes’ of ole Cun’l Chahmb’lin. +All de white folks laughed an’ hoorawed, an’ ole Cun’l Chahmb’lin—my +Lawd! I t’ought he’d ’a’ bu’st, he wuz so mad. Well, when it come to +his time to speak, he jes’ light into Marse Chan. He call ’im a +traitor, an’ a ab’litionis’, an’ I don’ know what all. Marse Chan, he +jes’ kep’ cool till de ole Cun’l light into he pa. Ez soon ez he name +ole marster, I seen Marse Chan sort o’ lif’ up he head. D’ yo’ ever +see a hoss rar he head up right sudden at night when he see somethin’ +comin’ to’ds ’im from de side an’ he don’ know what ’tis? Ole Cun’l +Chahmb’lin, he went right on. He said ole marster hed taught Marse +Chan; dat ole marster wuz a wuss ab’litionis’ <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span>dan he son. I looked at +Marse Chan, an’ sez to myse’f: ‘Fo’ Gord! old Cun’l Chahmb’lin better +min’, an’ I hedn’ got de wuds out, when ole Cun’l Chahmb’lin ’cuse’ +ole marster o’ cheatin’ ’im out o’ he niggers, an’ stealin’ piece o’ +he lan’—dat’s de lan’ I tole you ’bout. Well, seh, nex’ thing I +knowed, I heahed Marse Chan—hit all happen right ’long togedder, like +lightnin’ an’ thunder when dey hit right at you—I heah ’im say:</p> + +<p>“‘Cun’l Chahmb’lin, what you say is false, an’ yo’ know it to be so. +You have wilfully slandered one of the pures’ an’ nobles’ men Gord +ever made, an’ nothin’ but yo’ gray hyars protects you.’</p> + +<p>“Well, ole Cun’l Chahmb’lin, he ra’ed an’ he pitch’d. He said he wan’ +too ole, an’ he’d show ’im so.</p> + +<p>“‘Ve’y well,’ says Marse Chan.</p> + +<p>“De meetin’ broke up den. I wuz hol’in de hosses out dyar in de road +by de een’ o’ de poach, an’ I see Marse Chan talkin’ an’ talkin’ to +Mr. Gordon an’ anudder gent’man, an’ den he come out an’ got on de +sorrel an’ galloped off. Soon ez he got out o’ sight, he pulled up, +an’ we walked along tell we come to de road whar leads off to’ds Mr. +Barbour’s. He wuz de big lawyer o’ de country. Dar he tu’ned off. All +dis time he hedn’ sed a wud, ’cep’ to kind o’ mumble to hisse’f now +an’ den. When we got to Mr. Barbour’s, he got down an’ went in. Dat +wuz in de late winter; de folks wuz jes’ beginnin’ to plough fur corn. +He stayed dyar ’bout two hours, an’ when he come out <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span>Mr. Barbour come +out to de gate wid ’im an’ shake han’s arfter he got up in de saddle. +Den we all rode off. ’Twuz late den—good dark; an’ we rid ez hard ez +we could, tell we come to de ole school-house at ole Cun’l +Chahmb’lin’s gate. When we got dar Marse Chan got down an’ walked +right slow ’roun’ de house. Arfter lookin’ ’roun’ a little while an’ +tryin’ de do’ to see ef it wuz shet, he walked down de road tell he +got to de creek. He stop’ dyar a little while an’ picked up two or +three little rocks an’ frowed ’em in, an’ pres’n’y he got up an’ we +come on home. Ez he got down, he tu’ned to me an’, rubbin’ de sorrel’s +nose, said: ‘Have ’em well fed, Sam; I’ll want ’em early in de +mawnin’.’</p> + +<p>“Dat night at supper he laugh an’ talk, an’ he set at de table a long +time. Arfter ole marster went to bed, he went in de charmber an’ set +on de bed by ’im talkin’ to ’im an’ tellin’ ’im ’bout de meetin’ an’ +ev’ything; but he never mention ole Cun’l Chahmb’lin’s name. When he +got up to come out to de office in de yard, whar he slept, he stooped +down an’ kissed ’im jes’ like he wuz a baby layin’ dyar in de bed, an’ +he’d hardly let ole missis go at all. I knowed some’n wuz up, an’ nex’ +mawnin’ I called ’im early befo’ light, like he tole me, an’ he +dressed an’ come out pres’n’y jes’ like he wuz goin’ to chu’ch. I had +de hosses ready, an’ we went out de back way to’ds de river. Ez we +rode along, he said:</p> + +<p>“‘Sam, you an’ I wuz boys togedder, wa’n’t we?’</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span></p><p>“‘Yes,’ sez I, ‘Marse Chan, dat we wuz.’</p> + +<p>“‘You have been ve’y faithful to me,’ sez he, ‘an’ I have seen to it +that you are well provided fur. You wan’ to marry Judy, I know, an’ +you’ll be able to buy her ef you want to.’</p> + +<p>“Den he tole me he wuz goin’ to fight a duil, an’ in case he should +git shot, he had set me free an’ giv’ me nuff to tek keer o’ me an’ my +wife ez long ez we lived. He said he’d like me to stay an’ tek keer o’ +ole marster an’ ole missis ez long ez dey lived, an’ he said it +wouldn’ be very long, he reckoned. Dat wuz de on’y time he voice +broke—when he said dat; an’ I couldn’ speak a wud, my th’oat choked +me so.</p> + +<p>“When we come to de river, we tu’ned right up de bank, an’ arfter +ridin’ ’bout a mile or sich a matter, we stopped whar dey wuz a little +clearin’ wid elder bushes on one side an’ two big gum trees on de +udder, an’ de sky wuz all red, an’ de water down to’ds whar de sun wuz +comin’ wuz jes’ like de sky.</p> + +<p>“Pres’n’y Mr. Gordon he come wid a ’hogany box ’bout so big ’fore ’im, +an’ he got down, an’ Marse Chan tole me to tek all de hosses an’ go +’roun’ behine de bushes whar I tell you ’bout—off to one side; an’ +’fore I got ’roun’ dar, ole Cun’l Chahmb’lin an’ Mr. Hennin an’ Dr. +Call come ridin’ from tudder way, to’ds ole Cun’l Chahmb’lin’s. When +dey hed tied dey hosses, de udder gent’mens went up to whar Mr. Gordon +wuz, an’ arfter some chattin’ Mr. Hennin step’ off ’bout fur ez ’cross +dis road, or mebbe it mout be a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span>little furder; an’ den I seed ’em +th’oo de bushes loadin’ de pistils, an’ talk’ a little while; an’ den +Marse Chan an’ ole Cun’l Chahmb’lin walked up wid de pistils in dey +han’s, an’ Marse Chan he stood wid his face right to’ds de sun. I seen +it shine on ’im jes’ ez it come up over de low groun’s, an’ he look’ +like he did sometimes when he come out of chu’ch. I wuz so skeered I +couldn’ say nuthin’. Ole Cun’l Chahmb’lin could shoot fust rate, an’ +Marse Chan he never missed.</p> + +<p>“Den I heahed Mr. Gordon say, ‘Gent’mens, is yo’ ready?’ and bofe of +’em sez, ‘Ready,’ jes’ so.</p> + +<p>“An’ he sez, ‘Fire, one, two’—an’ ez he said ‘one,’ ole Cun’l +Chahmb’lin raised he pistil an’ shot right at Marse Chan. De ball went +th’oo his hat. I seen he hat sort o’ settle on he head ez de bullit +hit it, an’ <i>he</i> jes’ tilted his pistil up in de a’r an’ shot—<i>bang</i>; +an’ ez de pistil went <i>bang</i>, he sez to Cun’l Chahmb’lin, ‘I mek you a +present to yo’ fam’ly, seh!’</p> + +<p>“Well, dey had some talkin’ arfter dat. I didn’ git rightly what it +wuz; but it ’peared like Cun’l Chahmb’lin he warn’t satisfied, an’ +wanted to have anudder shot. De seconds dey wuz talkin’, an’ pres’n’y +dey put de pistils up, an’ Marse Chan an’ Mr. Gordon shook han’s wid +Mr. Hennin an’ Dr. Call, an’ come an’ got on dey hosses. An’ Cun’l +Chahmb’lin he got on his horse an’ rode away wid de udder gent’mens, +lookin’ like he did de day befo’ when all de people laughed at ’im.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span></p><p>“I b’lieve ole Cun’l Chahmb’lin wan’ to shoot Marse Chan, anyway!</p> + +<p>“We come on home to breakfast, I totin’ de box wid de pistils befo’ me +on the roan. Would you b’lieve me, seh, Marse Chan he nuvver said a +wud ’bout it to ole marster or nobody. Ole missis didn’ fin’ out ’bout +it for mo’n a month, an’ den, Lawd! how she did cry and kiss Marse +Chan; an’ ole marster, aldo’ he never say much, he wuz jes’ ez please’ +ez ole missis. He call’ me in de room an’ made me tole ’im all ’bout +it, an’ when I got th’oo he gi’ me five dollars an’ a pyar of +breeches.</p> + +<p>“But ole Cun’l Chahmb’lin he nuvver did furgive Marse Chan, and Miss +Anne she got mad too. Wimmens is mons’us onreasonable nohow. Dey’s +jes’ like a catfish: you cann’ tek’ hole on ’em like udder folks, an’ +when you gits ’em yo’ can n’ always hole ’em.</p> + +<p>“What meks me think so? Heaps o’ things—dis: Marse Chan he done gi’ +Miss Anne her pa jes’ ez good ez I gi’ Marse Chan’s dawg sweet +’taters, an’ she git mad wid ’im ez if he hed kill ’im ’stid o’ +sen’in’ ’im back to her dat mawnin’ whole an’ soun’. B’lieve me! she +wouldn’ even speak to ’im arfter dat!</p> + +<p>“Don’ I ’member dat mawnin’!</p> + +<p>“We wuz gwine fox-huntin’, ’bout six weeks or sich a matter arfter de +duil, an’ we met Miss Anne ridin’ ’long wid anudder lady an’ two +gent’mens whar wuz stayin’ at her house. Dyar wuz always <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span>some one or +nudder dyar co’ting her. Well, dat mawnin’ we meet ’em right in de +road. ’Twuz de fust time Marse Chan had see her sence de duil, an’ he +raises he hat ez he pahss, an’ she looks right at ’im wid her head up +in de yair like she nuvver see ’im befo’ in her born days; an’ when +she comes by me, she sez, ‘Good-mawnin’, Sam!’ Gord! I nuvver see +nuthin’ like de look dat come on Marse Chan’s face when she pahss ’im +like dat. He gi’ de sorrel a pull dat fotch ’im back settin’ down in +de san’ on he hanches. He ve’y lips wuz white. I tried to keep up wid +’im, but ’twarn’ no use. He sont me back home pres’n’y, an’ he rid on. +I sez to myself, ‘Cun’l Chahmb’lin, don’ yo’ meet Marse Chan dis +mawnin’. He ain’ bin lookin’ ’roun’ de ole school-house, whar he an’ +Miss Anne use’ to go to school to ole Mr. Hall together, fur nuffin’. +He won’ stan’ no prodjickin’ to-day.’</p> + +<p>“He nuvver come home dat night tell ’way late, an’ ef he’d been +fox-huntin’ it mus’ ha’ been de ole red whar lives down in de +greenscum mashes he’d been chasin’. De way de sorrel wuz gormed up wid +sweat an’ mire sut’n’y did hu’t me. He walked up to de stable wid he +head down all de way, an’ I’se seen ’im go eighty miles of a winter +day, an’ prance into de stable at night ez fresh ez ef he hed jes’ +cantered over to ole Cun’l Chahmb’lin’s to supper. I nuvver seen a +hoss beat so sence I knowed de fetlock from de fo’lock, an’ bad ez he +wuz he wan’ ez bad ez Marse Chan.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span></p><p>“Whew! he didn’ git over dat thing, seh—he nuvver did git over it.</p> + +<p>“De war come on jes’ den, an’ Marse Chan wuz elected cap’n; but he +wouldn’ tek it. He said Firginia hadn’ seceded, an’ he wuz gwine stan’ +by her. Den dey ’lected Mr. Gordon cap’n.</p> + +<p>“I sut’n’y did wan’ Marse Chan to tek de place, cuz I knowed he wuz +gwine tek me wid ’im. He wan’ gwine widout Sam. An’ beside, he look so +po’ an’ thin, I thought he wuz gwine die.</p> + +<p>“Of co’se ole missis she heard ’bout it, an’ she met Miss Anne in de +road, an’ cut her jes’ like Miss Anne cut Marse Chan.</p> + +<p>“Ole missis, she wuz proud ez anybody! So we wuz mo’ strangers dan ef +we hadn’ live’ in a hunderd miles of each udder. An’ Marse Chan he wuz +gittin’ thinner an’ thinner, an’ Firginia she come out, an’ den Marse +Chan he went to Richmond an’ listed, an’ come back an’ sey he wuz a +private, an’ he didn’ know whe’r he could tek me or not. He writ to +Mr. Gordon, hows’ever, and ’twuz decided that when he went I wuz to go +’long an’ wait on him, an’ de cap’n too. I didn’ min’ dat, yo’ know, +long ez I could go wid Marse Chan, an’ I like’ Mr. Gordon, anyways.</p> + +<p>“Well, one night Marse Chan come back from de offis wid a telegram dat +say, ‘Come at once,’ so he wuz to start nex’ mawnin’. He uniform wuz +all ready, gray wid yaller trimmin’s, an’ mine wuz ready too, an’ he +had ole marster’s sword, whar de State gi’ ’im in de Mexikin war; an’ +he trunks <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span>wuz all packed wid ev’rything in ’em, an’ my chist wuz +packed too, an’ Jim Rasher he druv ’em over to de depo’ in de waggin, +an’ we wuz to start nex’ mawnin’ ’bout light. Dis wuz ’bout de las’ o’ +spring, you know. Dat night ole missis made Marse Chan dress up in he +uniform, an’ he sut’n’y did look splendid wid he long mustache an’ he +wavin’ hyar and he tall figger.</p> + +<p>“Arfter supper he come down an’ sez: ‘Sam, I wan’ you to tek dis note +an’ kyar it over to Cun’l Chahmb’lin’s, an’ gi’ it to Miss Anne wid +yo’ own han’s, an’ bring me wud what she sez. Don’ let any one know +’bout it, or know why you’ve gone.’ ‘Yes, seh,’ sez I.</p> + +<p>“Yo’ see, I knowed Miss Anne’s maid over at ole Cun’l +Chahmb’lin’s—dat wuz Judy whar is my wife now—an’ I knowed I could +wuk it. So I tuk de roan an’ rid over, an’ tied ’im down de hill in de +cedars, an’ I wen’ ’roun’ to de back yard. ’Twuz a right blowy sort o’ +night; de moon wuz jes’ risin’, but de clouds wuz so big it didn’ +shine ’cep’ th’oo a crack now an’ den. I soon foun’ my gal, an’ arfter +tellin’ her two or three lies ’bout herse’f, I got her to go in an’ ax +Miss Anne to come to de do’. When she come, I gi’ her de note, an’ +arfter a little while she bro’t me anudder, an’ I tole her good-by, +an’ she gi’ me a dollar, an’ I come home an’ gi’ de letter to Marse +Chan. He read it, an’ tole me to have de hosses ready at twenty minits +to twelve at de corner of de garden. An’ jes’ befo’ dat he come out ez +ef he wuz gwine to bed, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span>but instid he come, an’ we all struck out +to’ds Cun’l Chahmb’lin’s. When we got mos’ to de gate, de hosses got +sort o’ skeered, an’ I see dey wuz some’n or somebody standin’ jes’ +inside; an’ Marse Chan he jumpt off de sorrel an’ flung me de bridle +and he walked up.</p> + +<p>“She spoke fust (’twuz Miss Anne had done come out dyar to meet Marse +Chan), an’ she sez, jes’ ez cold ez a chill, ‘Well, seh, I granted +your favor. I wished to relieve myse’f of de obligations you placed me +under a few months ago, when you made me a present of my father, whom +you fust insulted an’ then prevented from gittin’ satisfaction.’</p> + +<p>“Marse Chan he didn’ speak fur a minit, an’ den he said: ‘Who is with +you?’ (Dat wuz ev’y wud.)</p> + +<p>“‘No one,’ sez she; ‘I came alone.’</p> + +<p>“‘My God!’ sez he, ’you didn’ come all through those woods by yourse’f +at this time o’ night?’</p> + +<p>“‘Yes, I’m not afraid,’ sez she. (An’ heah dis nigger! I don’ b’lieve +she wuz.)</p> + +<p>“De moon come out, an’ I cotch sight o’ her stan’in’ dyar in her white +dress, wid de cloak she had wrapped herse’f up in drapped off on de +groun’, an’ she didn’ look like she wuz ’feared o’ nuthin’. She wuz +mons’us purty ez she stood dyar wid de green bushes behine her, an’ +she hed jes’ a few flowers in her breas’—right hyah—and some leaves +in her sorrel hyar; an’ de moon come out an’ shined down on her hyar +an’ her frock, an’ ’peared like <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span>de light wuz jes’ stan’in’ off it ez +she stood dyar lookin’ at Marse Chan wid her head tho’d back, jes’ +like dat mawnin’ when she pahss Marse Chan in de road widout speakin’ +to ’im, an’ sez to me, ‘Good mawnin’, Sam.’</p> + +<p>“Marse Chan, he den tole her he hed come to say good-by to her, ez he +wuz gwine ’way to de war nex’ mawnin’. I wuz watchin’ on her, an’ I +tho’t when Marse Chan tole her dat, she sort o’ started an’ looked up +at ’im like she wuz mighty sorry, an’ ’peared like she didn’ stan’ +quite so straight arfter dat. Den Marse Chan he went on talkin’ right +fars’ to her; an’ he tole her how he had loved her ever sence she wuz +a little bit o’ baby mos’, an’ how he nuvver ’membered de time when he +hedn’ ’spected to marry her. He tole her it wuz his love for her dat +hed made ’im stan’ fust at school an’ collige, an’ hed kep’ ’im good +an’ pure; an’ now he wuz gwine ’way, wouldn’ she let it be like ’twuz +in ole times, an’ ef he come back from de war wouldn’ she try to t’ink +on him ez she use’ to do when she wuz a little guirl?</p> + +<p>“Marse Chan he had done been talkin’ so serious, he hed done tuk Miss +Anne’s han’, an’ wuz lookin’ down in her face like he wuz list’nin’ +wid his eyes.</p> + +<p>“Arfter a minit Miss Anne she said somethin’, an’ Marse Chan he cotch +her udder han’ an’ sez:</p> + +<p>“‘But if you love me, Anne?’</p> + +<p>“When he sed dat, she tu’ned her head ’way <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span>from ’im, an’ wait’ a +minit, an’ den she sed—right clear:</p> + +<p>“‘But I don’ love yo’.’ (Jes’ dem th’ee wuds!) De wuds fall right +slow—like dirt falls out a spade on a coffin when yo’s buryin’ +anybody an’ seys, ‘Uth to uth.’ Marse Chan he jes’ let her hand drap, +an’ he stiddy hisse’f ’g’inst de gate-pos’, an’ he didn’ speak +toreckly. When he did speak, all he sez wuz:</p> + +<p>“‘I mus’ see you home safe.’</p> + +<p>“I ’clar, marster, I didn’ know ’twuz Marse Chan’s voice tell I look +at ’im right good. Well, she wouldn’ let ’im go wid her. She jes’ +wrap’ her cloak ’roun’ her shoulders, an’ wen’ ’long back by herse’f, +widout doin’ more’n jes’ look up once at Marse Chan leanin’ dyah +’g’inst de gate-pos’ in he sodger clo’es, wid he eyes on de groun’. +She said ‘Good-by’ sort o’ sorf, an’ Marse Chan, widout lookin’ up, +shake han’s wid her, an’ she wuz done gone down de road. Soon ez she +got ’mos’ ’roun’ de curve, Marse Chan he followed her, keepin’ under +de trees so ez not to be seen, an’ I led de hosses on down de road +behine ’im. He kep’ ’long behine her tell she wuz safe in de house, +an’ den he come an’ got on he hoss, an’ we all come home.</p> + +<p>“Nex’ mawnin’ we all come off to j’ine de army. An’ dey wuz a-drillin’ +an’ a-drillin’ all ’bout for a while an’ dey went ’long wid all de +res’ o’ de army, an I went wid Marse Chan an’ clean he boots, an’ look +arfter de tent, an’ tek keer o’ him <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span>an’ de hosses. An’ Marse Chan, he +wan’ a bit like he use’ to be. He wuz so solum an’ moanful all de +time, at leas’ ’cep’ when dyah wuz gwine to be a fight. Den he’d +peartin’ up, an’ he alwuz rode at de head o’ de company ’cause he wuz +tall; an’ hit wan’ on’y in battles whar all his company wuz dat <i>he</i> +went, but he use’ to volunteer whenever de cun’l wanted anybody to +fine out anythin’, an’ ’twuz so dangersome he didn’ like to mek one +man go no sooner’n anudder, yo’ know, an’ ax’d who’d volunteer. <i>He</i> +’peared to like to go prowlin’ aroun’ ’mong dem Yankees, an’ he use’ +to tek me wid ’im whenever he could. Yes, seh, he sut’n’y wuz a good +sodger! He didn’ mine bullets no more’n he did so many draps o’ rain. +But I use’ to be pow’ful skeered sometimes. It jes’ use’ to ’pear like +fun to ’im. In camp he use’ to be so sorrerful he’d hardly open he +mouf. You’d ’a’ tho’t he wuz seekin’, he used to look so moanful; but +jes’ le’ ’im git into danger, an’ he use’ to be like ole times—jolly +an’ laughin’ like when he wuz a boy.</p> + +<p>“When Cap’n Gordon got he leg shot off, dey mek Marse Chan cap’n on de +spot, ’cause one o’ de lieutenants got kilt de same day, an’ tor’er +one (named Mr. Ronny) wan’ no ’count, an’ all de company sed Marse +Chan wuz de man.</p> + +<p>“An’ Marse Chan he wuz jes’ de same. He didn’ never mention Miss +Anne’s name, but I knowed he wuz thinkin’ on her constant. One night +he wuz settin’ by de fire in camp, an’ Mr. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span>Ronny—he wuz de secon’ +lieutenant—got to talkin’ ’bout ladies, an’ he say all sorts o’ +things ’bout ’em, an’ I see Marse Chan kinder lookin’ mad; an’ de +lieutenant mention Miss Anne’s name. He hed been courtin’ Miss Anne +’bout de time Marse Chan fit de duil wid her pa, an’ Miss Anne hed +kicked ’im, dough he wuz mighty rich, ’cause he warn’ nuthin’ but a +half-strainer, an’ ’cause she like Marse Chan, I believe, dough she +didn’ speak to ’im; an’ Mr. Ronny he got drunk, an’ ’cause Cun’l +Chahmb’lin tole ’im not to come dyah no more, he got mighty mad. An’ +dat evenin’ I’se tellin’ yo’ ’bout, he wuz talkin’, an’ he mention’ +Miss Anne’s name. I see Marse Chan tu’n he eye ’roun’ on ’im an’ keep +it on he face, an’ pres’n’y Mr. Ronny said he wuz gwine hev some fun +dyah yit. He didn’ mention her name dat time; but he said dey wuz all +on ’em a parecel of stuck-up ’risticrats, an’ her pa wan’ no gent’man +anyway, and <i>she</i>——I don’ know what he wuz gwine say (he nuvver said +it), fur ez he got dat far Marse Chan riz up an’ hit ’im a crack, an’ +he fall like he hed been hit wid a fence-rail. He challenged Marse +Chan to fight a duil, an’ Marse Chan he excepted de challenge, an’ dey +wuz gwine fight; but some on ’em tole ’im Marse Chan wan’ gwine mek a +present o’ him to his fam’ly, an’ he got somebody to bre’k up de duil; +’twan’ nuthin’ dough, but he wuz ’fred to fight Marse Chan. An’ purty +soon he lef’ de comp’ny.</p> + +<p>“Well, I got one o’ de gent’mens to write Judy <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span>a letter for me, an’ I +tole her all ’bout de fight, an’ how Marse Chan knock Mr. Ronny over +fur speakin’ discontemptuous o’ Cun’l Chahmb’lin, an’ I tole her how +Marse Chan wuz a-dyin’ fur love o’ Miss Anne. An’ Judy she gits Miss +Anne to read de letter fur her. Den Miss Anne she tells her pa, +an’—you mind, Judy tells me all dis arfterwards, an’ she say when +Cun’l Chahmb’lin hear ’bout it, he wuz settin’ on de poach, an’ he set +still a good while, an’ den he sey to hisse’f:</p> + +<p>“‘Well, he carn’ he’p bein’ a Whig.’</p> + +<p>“An’ den he gits up an’ walks up to Miss Anne an’ looks at her right +hard; an’ Miss Anne she hed done tu’n away her head an’ wuz makin’ out +she wuz fixin’ a rose-bush ’g’inst de poach; an’ when her pa kep’ +lookin’ at her, her face got jes’ de color o’ de roses on de bush, an’ +pres’n’y her pa sez:</p> + +<p>“‘Anne!’</p> + +<p>“An’ she tu’ned ’roun’, an’ he sez:</p> + +<p>“‘Do yo’ want ’im?’</p> + +<p>“An’ she sez, ‘Yes,’ an’ put her head on he shoulder an’ begin to cry; +an’ he sez:</p> + +<p>“‘Well, I won’ stan’ between yo’ no longer. Write to ’im an’ say so.’</p> + +<p>“We didn’ know nuthin’ ’bout dis den. We wuz a-fightin’ an’ a-fightin’ +all dat time; an’ come one day a letter to Marse Chan, an’ I see ’im +start to read it in his tent, an’ he face hit look so cu’ious, an’ he +han’s trembled so I couldn’ mek out what wuz de matter wid ’im. An’ he +fold’ de letter up <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span>an’ wen’ out an’ wen’ ’way down ’hine de camp, an’ +stayed dyah ’bout nigh an hour. Well, seh, I wuz on de lookout for ’im +when he come back, an’, fo’ Gord, ef he face didn’ shine like a +angel’s. I say to myse’f, ‘Um’m! ef de glory o’ Gord ain’ done shine +on ’im!’ An’ what yo’ ’spose ’twuz?</p> + +<p>“He tuk me wid ’im dat evenin’, an’ he tell me he hed done git a +letter from Miss Anne, an’ Marse Chan he eyes look like gre’t big +stars, an’ he face wuz jes’ like ’twuz dat mawnin’ when de sun riz up +over de low groun’s, an’ I see ’im stan’in’ dyah wid de pistil in he +han’, lookin’ at it, an’ not knowin’ but what it mout be de lars’ +time, an’ he done mek up he mine not to shoot ole Cun’l Chahmb’lin fur +Miss Anne’s sake, what writ ’im de letter.</p> + +<p>“He fold’ de letter wha’ was in his han’ up, an’ put it in he inside +pocket—right dyar on de lef’ side; an’ den he tole me he tho’t mebbe +we wuz gwine hev some warm wuk in de nex’ two or th’ee days, an arfter +dat ef Gord speared ’im he’d git a leave o’ absence fur a few days, +an’ we’d go home.</p> + +<p>“Well, dat night de orders come, an’ we all hed to git over to’ds +Romney; an’ we rid all night till ’bout light; an’ we halted right on +a little creek, an’ we stayed dyah till mos’ breakfas’ time, an’ I see +Marse Chan set down on de groun’ ’hine a bush an’ read dat letter over +an’ over. I watch ’im, an’ de battle wuz a-goin’ on, but we hed orders +to stay ’hine de hill, an’ ev’y now an’ den de bullets <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span>would cut de +limbs o’ de trees right over us, an’ one o’ dem big shells what goes +‘<i>Awhar—awhar—awhar!</i>’ would fall right ’mong us; but Marse Chan he +didn’ mine it no mo’n nuthin’! Den it ’peared to git closer an’ +thicker, an’ Marse Chan he calls me, an’ I crep’ up, an’ he sez:</p> + +<p>“‘Sam, we’se goin’ to win in dis battle, an’ den we’ll go home an’ git +married; an’ I’se goin’ home wid a star on my collar.’ An’ den he sez, +‘Ef I’m wounded, kyar me home, yo’ hear?’ An’ I sez, ‘Yes, Marse +Chan.’</p> + +<p>“Well, jes’ den dey blowed boots an’ saddles an’ we mounted; an’ de +orders come to ride ’roun’ de slope, an’ Marse Chan’s company wuz de +secon’; an’ when we got ’roun’ dyah, we wuz right in it. Hit wuz de +wust place ever dis nigger got in. An’ dey said, ‘Charge ’em!’ an’ my +king! ef ever you see bullets fly, dey did dat day. Hit wuz jes’ like +hail; an’ we wen’ down de slope (I long wid de res’) an’ up de hill +right to’ds de cannons, an’ de fire wuz so strong dyar (dey hed a +whole rigiment o’ infintrys layin’ down dyar onder de cannons) our +lines sort o’ broke an’ stop; de cun’l was kilt, an’ I b’lieve dey wuz +jes’ ’bout to bre’k all to pieces, when Marse Chan rid up an’ cotch +hol’ de fleg an’ hollers, ‘Foller me!’ an’ rid strainin’ up de hill +’mong de cannons. I seen ’im when he went, de sorrel four good lengths +ahead o’ ev’y udder hoss, jes’ like he use’ to be in a fox-hunt, an’ +de whole rigiment right arfter ’im. Yo’ ain’ nuvver hear thunder! Fust +thing I knowed, de roan roll’ head <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span>over heels an’ flung me up ’g’inst +de bank, like yo’ chuck a nubbin over ’g’inst de foot o’ de corn pile. +An’ dat’s what kep’ me from bein’ kilt, I ’specks. Judy she say she +think ’twuz Providence, but I think ’twuz de bank. Of co’se, +Providence put de bank dyar, but how come Providence nuvver saved +Marse Chan! When I look’ ’roun’, de roan wuz layin’ dyah by me, stone +dead, wid a cannon-ball gone ’mos’ th’oo him, an’ our men hed done +swep’ dem on t’ udder side from de top o’ de hill. ’Twan’ mo’n a minit, +de sorrel come gallupin’ back wid his mane flyin’, an’ de rein hangin’ +down on one side to his knee. ‘Dyar!’ says I, ‘fo’ Gord! I ’specks dey +done kill Marse Chan, an’ I promised to tek care on him.’</p> + +<p>“I jumped up an’ run over de bank, an’ dyar wid a whole lot o’ dead +men, an’ some not dead yit, onder one o’ de guns wid de fleg still in +he han’, an’ a bullet right th’oo he body, lay Marse Chan. I tu’n’ ’im +over an’ call ’im ‘Marse Chan!’ but ’twan’ no use, he wuz done gone +home, sho’ ’nuff. I pick’ ’im up in my arms wid de fleg still in he +han’s, an’ toted ’im back jes’ like I did dat day when he wuz a baby, +an’ ole marster gin ’im to me in my arms, an’ sez he could trus’ me, +an’ tell me to tek keer on ’im long ez he lived. I kyar’d ’im ’way off +de battlefiel’ out de way o’ de balls, an’ I laid ’im down onder a big +tree tell I could git somebody to ketch de sorrel for me. He wuz +cotched arfter awhile, an’ I hed some money, so I got some pine plank +an’ made a coffin dat evenin’, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span>an’ wrapt Marse Chan’s body up in de +fleg, an’ put ’im in de coffin; but I didn’ nail de top on strong, +’cause I knowed ole missis wan’ see ’im; an’ I got a’ ambulance an’ +set out for home dat night. We reached dyar de nex’ evenin’, arfter +travellin’ all dat night an’ all nex’ day.</p> + +<p>“Hit ’peared like somethin’ hed tole ole missis we wuz comin’ so; for +when we got home she wuz waitin’ for us—done drest up in her best +Sunday-clo’es, an’ stan’in’ at de head o’ de big steps, an’ ole +marster settin’ in his big cheer—ez we druv up de hill to’ds de +house, I drivin’ de ambulance an’ de sorrel leadin’ ’long behine wid +de stirrups crost over de saddle.</p> + +<p>“She come down to de gate to meet us. We took de coffin out de +ambulance an’ kyar’d it right into de big parlor wid de pictures in +it, whar dey use’ to dance in ole times when Marse Chan wuz a +school-boy, an’ Miss Anne Chahmb’lin use’ to come over, an’ go wid ole +missis into her chamber an’ tek her things off. In dyar we laid de +coffin on two o’ de cheers, an’ ole missis nuvver said a wud; she jes’ +looked so ole an’ white.</p> + +<p>“When I had tell ’em all ’bout it, I tu’ned right ’roun’ an’ rid over +to Cun’l Chahmb’lin’s, ’cause I knowed dat wuz what Marse Chan he’d +’a’ wanted me to do. I didn’ tell nobody whar I wuz gwine, ’cause yo’ +know none on ’em hadn’ nuvver speak to Miss Anne, not sence de duil, +an’ dey didn’ know ’bout de letter.</p> + +<p>“When I rid up in de yard, dyar wuz Miss Anne <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span>a-stan’in’ on de poach +watchin’ me ez I rid up. I tied my hoss to de fence, an’ walked up de +parf. She knowed by de way I walked dyar wuz somethin’ de motter, an’ +she wuz mighty pale. I drapt my cap down on de een’ o’ de steps an’ +went up. She nuvver opened her mouf; jes’ stan’ right still an’ keep +her eyes on my face. Fust, I couldn’ speak; den I cotch my voice, an’ +I say, ‘Marse Chan, he done got he furlough.’</p> + +<p>“Her face was mighty ashy, an’ she sort o’ shook, but she didn’ fall. +She tu’ned roun’ an’ said, ‘Git me de ker’ige!’ Dat wuz all.</p> + +<p>“When de ker’ige come ’roun’, she hed put on her bonnet, an’ wuz +ready. Ez she got in, she sey to me, ‘Hev yo’ brought him home?’ an’ +we drove ’long, I ridin’ behine.</p> + +<p>“When we got home, she got out, an’ walked up de big walk—up to de +poach by herse’f. Ole missis hed done fin’ de letter in Marse Chan’s +pocket, wid de love in it, while I wuz ’way, an’ she wuz a-waitin’ on +de poach. Dey sey dat wuz de fust time ole missis cry when she find de +letter, an’ dat she sut’n’y did cry over it, pintedly.</p> + +<p>“Well, seh, Miss Anne she walks right up de steps, mos’ up to ole +missis stan’in’ dyar on de poach, an’ jes’ falls right down mos’ to +her, on her knees fust, an’ den flat on her face right on de flo’, +ketchin’ at ole missis’ dress wid her two han’s—so.</p> + +<p>“Ole missis stood for ’bout a minit lookin’ down at her, an’ den she +drapt down on de flo’ by her, an’ took her in bofe her arms.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span></p><p>“I couldn’ see, I wuz cryin’ so myse’f, an’ ev’ybody wuz cryin’. But +dey went in arfter a while in de parlor, an’ shet de do’; an’ I hyard +’em say, Miss Anne she tuk de coffin in her arms an’ kissed it, an’ +kissed Marse Chan, an’ call ’im by his name, an’ her darlin’, an’ ole +missis lef’ her cryin’ in dyar tell some on ’em went in, an’ found her +done faint on de flo’.</p> + +<p>“Judy (she’s my wife) she tell me she heah Miss Anne when she axed ole +missis mout she wear mo’nin’ fur ’im. I don’ know how dat is; but when +we buried ’im nex’ day, she wuz de one whar walked arfter de coffin, +holdin’ ole marster, an’ ole missis she walked next to ’em.”</p> + +<p>“Well, we buried Marse Chan dyar in de ole grabeyard, wid de fleg +wrapped roun’ ’im, an’ he face lookin’ like it did dat mawnin’ down in +de low groun’s, wid de new sun shinin’ on it so peaceful.</p> + +<p>“Miss Anne she nuvver went home arfter dat; she stay wid ole marster +an’ ole missis ez long ez dey lived. Dat warn’ so mighty long, ’cause +ole marster he died dat fall, when dey wuz fallerin’ fur wheat—I had +jes’ married Judy den—an’ ole missis she warn’ long behine him. We +buried her by him next summer. Miss Anne she went in de hospitals +toreckly arfter ole missis died; an’ jes’ fo’ Richmond fell she come +home sick wid de fever. Yo’ nuvver would ’a’ knowed her fur de same +ole Miss Anne. She wuz light ez a piece o’ peth, an’ so white, ’cep’ +her eyes an’ her sorrel <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span>hyar, an’ she kep’ on gittin’ whiter an’ +weaker. Judy she sut’n’y did nuss her faithful. But she nuvver got no +betterment! De fever an’ Marse Chan’s bein’ kilt hed done strain her, +an’ she died jes’ ’fo’ de folks wuz sot free.</p> + +<p>“So we buried Miss Anne right by Marse Chan, in a place whar ole +missis hed tole us to leave, an’ dey’s bofe on ’em sleep side by side +over in de ole grabeyard at home.</p> + +<p>“An’ will yo’ please tell me, marster? Dey tells me dat de Bible sey +dyar won’ be marryin’ nor givin’ in marriage in heaven, but I don’ +b’lieve it signifies dat—does yo’?”</p> + +<p>I gave him the comfort of my earnest belief in some other +interpretation, together with several spare “eighteen-pences,” as he +called them, for which he seemed humbly grateful. And as I rode away I +heard him calling across the fence to his wife, who was standing in +the door of a small whitewashed cabin, near which we had been standing +for some time:</p> + +<p>“Judy, have Marse Chan’s dawg got home?”</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="MR_BIXBYS_CHRISTMAS_VISITOR" id="MR_BIXBYS_CHRISTMAS_VISITOR"></a>MR. BIXBY’S CHRISTMAS VISITOR.</h2> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">By Charles S. Gage.</span></p> + +<p class="center">⁂ <i>Appleton’s Journal, December 30, 1871.</i></p> + +<p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:2px;padding-bottom:1px;">A</span>t the head of the first flight of stairs, and on opposite sides of +the landing, were the respective rooms of Mr. Bixby and Mr. Bangs. The +house in which they lived stood in a quiet and retired street on the +lower and western side of New York, a locality which was once +inhabited by fashionable families, afterward by old-fashioned +families, and at the time of our story by the keepers of +boarding-houses for single men.</p> + +<p>Mr. Henry Bixby and Mr. Alfred Bangs were single men—Mr. Bangs, the +wine-merchant, because he liked wine and song so well that he never +had leisure to think of women, because he was fat, because he was red +in the face, and, if more reasons are necessary, because his fingers +were chubby and short. For twenty years, day by day, Mr. Bangs had +been absorbed in business. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span>For twenty years, night after night, it +had been his custom to entertain his friends at his apartment in not a +very quiet way. He was so happy, and bulbous, and jolly, that he had +never thought of marriage. Yet he might easily have been mistaken by +the casual observer for a family man. He wore a white vest when it +wasn’t too cold; his linen was painfully plain. There was not a sign +of jewelry about him. He wore low shoes, which he tied with a ribbon. +This was Mr. Bangs.</p> + +<p>Not quite so old in years as the opposite lodger was Mr. Bixby, known +to his few friends as a genial philosopher and poet, to the public as +the literary critic of one of the great daily papers. He might have +been thirty-five years of age, but, as he had lived more for others +than for himself, as he had made a study and not a pleasure of life, +his gray eyes and the other features of his face suggested to whoever +met him a longer past. There was something about him that caused men +to wonder, not what he was, but what he had been.</p> + +<p>For ten years Mr. Bangs and Mr. Bixby had been inmates of the house +together. Mr. Bangs had been there longer. The present landlady had +received as a legacy from her predecessor, who did not care to take +him away, Mr. Bangs. As she said, she made a present of Bangs.</p> + +<p>Long as they had known each other, the two lodgers were only +acquaintances. Sometimes, on a Sunday afternoon, they would walk out +in company, stroll down to the Battery, and there smoke <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span>their cigars +and watch the ships, but beyond this point of sociability, which +neither enjoyed, there was nothing more. Never had Bixby read Bangs +any poem he had made, nor did ever Bangs invite Bixby to meet his +convivial friends of an evening to play whist or to partake of his +mulled ale. In fact, Mr. Bixby had been often and with great +enthusiasm voted an unsocial fellow by the cronies of Mr. Bangs, but +he rose somewhat in their estimation when they were informed that he +had consented to exchange rooms with their host.</p> + +<p>“He isn’t such a grouty fellow, after all,” said Bangs. “I told him +that we were too near the street, and that some one had been +complaining to the landlady of our singing. He didn’t even stop to +think, but agreed to do it at once. He thought the light would be +better here. Now, fellows, I call that doing the fair thing.”</p> + +<p>And the speech of Mr. Bangs was applauded.</p> + +<p>It was the morning of the day before Christmas that the change was +effected. In the closet where had been the bottles, the decanters, +glasses, and pickle-jars of the late occupant, Mr. Bixby had arranged +shelves, and filled them with his books. Over the mantel, from which +Mr. Bangs had taken away a colored print of a bull-dog in an overcoat, +Mr. Bixby hung a fine engraving of the Madonna, and on the mantel +itself he had placed his clock. It was a small French clock under a +crystal, so that its rapidly-swinging pendulum could be easily seen. +All bachelors, however negligent of their <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span>surroundings, have some one +hobby among articles of furniture. It may be an easy-chair, or a +book-case, or a chandelier—there is one thing that must be the best +of its kind. There could be no doubt, from the care with which Mr. +Bixby placed his clock in its position, and from time to time compared +it with his watch, that this was his hobby. It had the three +requisites which he demanded in a clock. It kept correct time without +failing, its pendulum swung rapidly, and was plainly visible. Time +past was the happiness of Mr. Bixby, and this clock told him +continually that all was being done that could be done to induce the +hours of every day to go over to the majority. He depended upon this +clock. He was surer of its mechanism than of that of his own heart.</p> + +<p>What with hanging his pictures and arranging his furniture, and with +many other little things which had to be done, Mr. Bixby was busily +employed all day. But the task was not an unpleasant one. His heart +was in the work, for there was hardly an object in the room not nearly +associated with some event in his past life. After carefully brushing +the dust from an old writing-desk, which had evidently once belonged +to a lady, he placed it upon the rug in front of the fire. Only on +Christmas-eves was this desk opened.</p> + +<p>“It is curious,” thought Mr. Bixby, “that I should have moved this +day, of all days in the year!”</p> + +<p>Often in his work he thought of stopping to take <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span>from the desk an old +packet of letters, and reading them once more. But it was not yet +time, and, moreover, he was continually interrupted. First, there came +some one to his door with “Two dozen Congress-water for Mr. Bangs;” +then one with “Mr. Bangs’s boots,” and another to tell Mr. Bangs that +“the pup was big enough to take away.” Finally, came Bangs himself, to +complain of like interruptions, and to bid him good-by.</p> + +<p>“Here is some manuscript a boy left for you. You will have to attend +both doors now. I am off to spend Christmas. We are going to have a +Tom-and-Jerry party in Jersey. You know—</p> + +<p class="center">“‘The Tom-and-Jerry days have come, the happiest in the year!’</p> + +<p>“Good rendering, eh? That isn’t all:</p> + +<p class="center">“‘I only wish to live till the juleps come again!’”</p> + +<p>And Mr. Bangs laughed uproariously, even after he had said, “Good-by,” +and shut the door behind him.</p> + +<p>“What a personification of Bacchus!” thought Mr. Bixby—</p> + +<p class="center">“‘Ever laughing, ever young.’</p> + +<p>“He will be young as long as he lives, but I am afraid that won’t be +long. If ever there was a man in immediate danger of apoplexy, Bangs +is that man.”</p> + +<p>It was after dinner when Mr. Bixby lighted his drop-light and sat down +before the fire. He <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span>pushed an ottoman in front of him, on which to +rest his feet, which he had comfortably encased in his slippers. But +the shadows in his new room did not please him. He could hardly see +the clock on the mantel. The Madonna above was completely in the +shade. So he lighted the chandelier above and sat down again, hoping +that no friend, either of his own or of Mr. Bangs, would interrupt +him. The desk was open at his feet. The package of letters lay near +him on the table. He placed his hand upon them, but let it rest there. +The hour had not quite arrived when he would read them. He fell again +into the reveries of the day. He lingered over the thoughts of his +better life ere he opened the packet which told of its end. For the +last ten years he had labored without ambition, and had been +successful. His name was well known as a journalist, and his salary +was ample. Before that time he had striven ambitiously, but +fruitlessly, patiently, but as in a quicksand, until, on a day, he had +none to strive for but himself, and then success had come. Since noon, +seven hours and twenty-nine minutes, said the clock before him. His +anniversary was near. Mr. Bixby drew the letters near him, and untied +the package. Just then there came a knock at his door, and, before he +had determined whether or not he should say, “Come in,” the door +opened, and an elderly gentleman stepped into the apartment. Quietly +he came in. There was no sound attending his entrance except the +knock. Mr. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span>Bixby, looking up, saw a man of more than ordinary height, +with countenance rigid and puritanical in expression, as though the +mind which had formed it was one influenced more by justice than +mercy. His eyes were concealed by a pair of colored spectacles, but +these, as they caught and reflected the light, were brighter and more +startling than any eyes could have been. He was dressed in a long +surtout, which he wore closely buttoned, high dickey, and high +black-silk stock, which covered his throat to his chin. His iron-gray +hair was brushed somewhat pompously backward over his forehead, and +his whole effect was that of a gentleman of the generation which wore +bell-crowned hats and carried enormous canes with tassels. But what +attracted Mr. Bixby’s particular attention were the wrinkles of his +face. These were in all places where wrinkles should not be. One ran +straight through the centre of his forehead, continuing the line of +the nose upward to the hair. Two others, starting from the bridge of +the nose, ran diagonally down to the nostrils. He was close-shaven, +and his lips were straight and thin. These peculiarities of his +visitor Mr. Bixby had barely time to mark when the gentleman said:</p> + +<p>“Ah, Mr. Bangs, I am glad to find you in!”</p> + +<p>Mr. Bixby never in his life more desired to be alone, and yet there +was something in this old man which so attracted him that he could not +correct his mistake. He felt a sudden fascination and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span>desire to know +more of him. Bangs was away and could not be seen. The gentleman could +not be very well acquainted with Bangs, very probably never had seen +him, or he would not have made such an error. But nothing but the +influence which seemed to proceed from his visitor could have induced +Mr. Bixby to answer as he did.</p> + +<p>“Thank you, sir. Pray, take this chair.”</p> + +<p>As he said this, he arose and wheeled an easy-chair to the other side +of the table.</p> + +<p>The elderly gentleman sat down.</p> + +<p>“You have a very cheerful apartment here, Mr. Bangs.”</p> + +<p>“Yes. I always like to be comfortable.”</p> + +<p>“Of course,” said the elderly gentleman.</p> + +<p>“Will you remove your overcoat, sir?” asked Mr. Bixby, and immediately +repented it.</p> + +<p>“Oh, no, I shall stop but a moment.”</p> + +<p>There was an interval of silence. A block of coal broke open in the +grate and fell apart. A jet of gas burst forth and burned, then +sputtered and went out. Mr. Bixby wondered on what business he had +come, and why he did not open the subject at once, if he was only +intending to stop a moment.</p> + +<p>“It is very disagreeable weather out,” said the man with the pompous +forelock, interrupting his reflections.</p> + +<p>“Snowing?” asked Bixby.</p> + +<p>“No—sleet.”</p> + +<p>“Very unpleasant to have far to go such a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span>night,” suggested Bixby, +who could think of nothing better to say.</p> + +<p>“Not at all,” responded the old gentleman, authoritatively.</p> + +<p>Bixby was silent again.</p> + +<p>The old gentleman, leaning with his elbow on the table, began again.</p> + +<p>“You like to live well, Mr. Bangs?”</p> + +<p>“I try to,” answered Mr. Bixby.</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“This must be some relative of Bangs come to deliver him a lecture on +his course of life. Why don’t he broach his advice at once?” thought +Mr. Bixby. The visitor here pulled a glove from his right hand, ran +his fingers through his hair, and then, in a more business-like tone, +spoke again:</p> + +<p>“Although a stranger to you personally, Mr. Bangs, I have always taken +a great interest in your family. Mr. Bangs, I knew your father.”</p> + +<p>“Indeed! I never heard him speak—”</p> + +<p>“No, I dare say; it was near the end of his life. I was near by, and +rendered him some assistance, when he died suddenly of apoplexy. He +was not so much of a man as your grandfather.”</p> + +<p>“Was he not?” asked Mr. Bixby, musingly. He was thinking how old the +grandfather of his friend Bangs must have been.</p> + +<p>“No,” continued the elderly gentleman; “but even his judgment I never +considered equal to that of your great-grandfather.”</p> + +<p>“Here is, indeed, a friend—a friend of the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span>family. Why is Mr. Bangs +away?” thought Mr. Bixby, and he bent his head a little, and looked +under the drop-light, to get a view of his visitor. He saw only the +reflection on his spectacles, and drew back suddenly, for fear of +being detected.</p> + +<p>“You like a good song, I have heard, Mr. Bangs,” came from the other +side of the table. “Have you any favorite?”</p> + +<p>Mr. Bixby did not understand this at all. The question puzzled him. +Should he as Bangs fall in the estimation of some relative if he +admitted the fact? Or did his visitor intend to sing? However, he felt +compelled to be frank, so he said:</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes; I like a good song. Some of the Scotch ballads please me +most. There is ‘The Land o’ the Leal.’”</p> + +<p>“A very fine song, sir. A very fine song. It is a credit to any man to +like that song.”</p> + +<p>The old gentleman was excited. Mr. Bixby was just congratulating +himself on having given Bangs a lift, when his thoughts were turned +into an altogether new channel by the following remark:</p> + +<p>“It was my impression, however, that your taste ran rather in the way +of drinking-songs. I should have thought now you would have said, ‘The +Coal-Black Wine.’”</p> + +<p>There was something in the tone with which this was uttered that made +Mr. Bixby shudder. It ran through his mind that this man was some +enemy of Bangs—that he was dangerous. Startled by this sudden +suspicion, tremblingly he again peered <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span>under the shade. The wrinkle +in the line of the frontal suture was more deeply indented. The light +on the spectacles was brighter than ever.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Bangs, I called on your opposite neighbor, Mr. Bixby, to-night. I +knocked on the door, but he was away.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said Mr. Bixby, somewhat confused. He wished that Bangs had +stayed at home, and determined to end the interview as soon as +possible.</p> + +<p>“Yes. I am sorry. I had a positive appointment with him. I am a great +friend of his.”</p> + +<p>“Does he know you?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, no; we have never met personally that he remembers. I am an old +friend of the family. He suffers from the heart-disease, and has been +expecting me.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, you are a physician?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir. I attended his father at his last illness.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Bixby’s heart began to beat rapidly. His mind became equally +active, and, although he had no experience to be guided by, he began +to suspect the nature of this man’s business with Bangs. He almost +determined to discover himself, but the letters were yet unread. If +that were only done, he would do anything his visitor might request. +Recalling the old gentleman’s last words, he said, at last, calmly:</p> + +<p>“And his mother?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, and his mother.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span></p><p>The old man’s voice assumed almost a kindly tone.</p> + +<p>“He is, indeed, a friend of my family,” thought Mr. Bixby; and then he +started, for fear he might have spoken aloud.</p> + +<p>His eyes fell upon the packet of letters. He must read them. He must +end the interview. The old doctor must have noticed Mr. Bixby’s eyes, +with the tears rising in them, as he tenderly touched the letters one +by one, for it was with a voice very gentle and low that he spoke +again.</p> + +<p>“I attended once a very dear friend of his. It must be quite ten years +ago now. Her name was Margaret. I think she loved him, for I +remember—yes—it was one Christmas-eve, she said, and after that she +said no more, ‘Has Harry come?’”</p> + +<p>Mr. Bixby could bear no more. His sobs were striving for utterance. +His fingers grasped the strong oak arms of his chair. It was only the +thought of the letters which gave him strength to say:</p> + +<p>“I am sorry, sir. You mistake me. I must ask you to leave me. You may +come again. I shall be here, but I have something I would do to-night. +I have given you much of my time. It is already late.”</p> + +<p>“It is you who mistake, Mr. Bangs. But I am going now. I said I would +stop but a moment. I have kept my promise, as you will see by your +clock.”</p> + +<p>Before his hands fell listless from the arms of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span>the chair—before his +lips parted, but not for speech—ay, just before that quick, strong +pain in his heart, Mr. Bixby saw on the white dial the black hands yet +pointing to the seven hours and the twenty-nine minutes, the pendulum +moveless, still, half-way on the upward journey of the arc.</p> + +<p>The elderly gentleman arose, walked round the table, and smiled, +himself, as he saw a smile of perfected happiness on the face of the +dead, when so lately sorrow itself had been pictured on the face of +the living.</p> + +<p>“It was hard to deceive him, but he will thank me now,” said he of the +gray locks and wrinkled visage. “And here are the letters which he +does not need.”</p> + +<p>Had the old man no more appointments to keep? For he took up one of +the letters and opened it. A lock of golden hair fell unnoticed to the +floor. Then he read silently, and, after a while, aloud:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>“I hope you will come and see me on Christmas-eve, for I am +not well. I long for you more than I can say. You must be +tired with your struggle in the great city, and need rest. O +Harry! come and comfort her that loves you, as you well +know.</p> + +<p class="right"><span style="margin-right: 2em;">”<span class="smcap">Margaret.</span>”</span></p></div> + +<p>The bells of Trinity commenced ringing.</p> + +<p>“He was tired, and he needed rest,” said Death.</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="ELI" id="ELI"></a>ELI.</h2> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">By C. H. White.</span></p> + +<p class="center">⁂ <i>Century Magazine, November, 1881.</i></p> + +<h3>I.</h3> + +<p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:2px;padding-bottom:1px;">U</span>nder a boat, high and dry, at low tide, on the beach, John Wood was +seated in the sand, sheltered from the sun in the boat’s shadow, +absorbed in the laying on of verdigris. The dull, worn color was +rapidly giving place to a brilliant, shining green. Occasionally a +scraper, which lay by, was taken up to remove the last trace of a +barnacle.</p> + +<p>It was Wood’s boat, but he was not a boatman; he painted cleverly, but +he was not a painter. He kept the brown store under the elms of the +main street, now hot and still, where at this moment his blushing +sister was captivating the heart of an awkward farmer’s boy, as she +sold him a pair of striped suspenders.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span></p><p>As the church-clock struck the last of twelve decided blows, three +children came rushing out of the house on the bank above the beach. It +was one of those deceptive New England cottages, weather-worn without, +but bright and bountifully home-like within—with its trim parlor, +proud of a cabinet organ; with its front hall, now cooled by the light +sea-breeze drifting through the blind-door, where a tall clock issued +its monotonous call to a siesta on the rattan lounge; with its spare +room, open now, opposite the parlor, and now, too, drawing in the salt +air through close-shut blinds, in anticipation of the joyful arrival +this evening of Sister Sarah, with her little brood, from the city.</p> + +<p>The children scampered across the road, and then the eldest hushed the +others and sent a little brother ahead to steal, barefoot, along the +shining sea-weed to his father.</p> + +<p>The plotted surprise appeared to succeed completely. The painter was +seized by the ears from behind, and captured.</p> + +<p>“Guess who’s here, or you can’t get up,” said the infant captor.</p> + +<p>“It’s Napoleon Bonaparte; don’t joggle,” said his father, running a +brush steadily along the water-line.</p> + +<p>“No! no! no!” with shouts of laughter from the whole attacking party.</p> + +<p>“Then it’s Captain Ezekiel?”</p> + +<p>This excited great merriment: Captain Ezekiel <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span>was an aged, purblind +man, who leaned on a cane.</p> + +<p>After attempts to identify the invader—with the tax-collector come +for taxes, then with the elderly minister making a pastoral call, with +the formal schoolmaster, and with Samuel J. Tilden—the victim reached +over his shoulder, and, seizing the assailant by a handful of calico +jacket, brought him around, squirming, before him.</p> + +<p>“Now,” he said, “I’ll give you a coat of verdigris.”</p> + +<p>(Great applause from the reserve force behind.)</p> + +<p>“I suppose Mother sent you to say dinner’s ready,” said the father, +rising and surveying the green bottom of the boat. “I must eat quick, +so as to do the other side before half-flood.”</p> + +<p>And with a child on each shoulder, and the third pushing him from +behind with her head, he marched toward the vine-covered kitchen, +where, between two opposite netted doors, the table was trimly set.</p> + +<p>“Father, you look like a mermaid, with your green hands,” said his +wife, laughing, as she handed him the spirits of turpentine. “A woman +could paint that boat, in a light dress, and not get a spot on her.”</p> + +<p>He smiled good-naturedly: he never spoke much.</p> + +<p>“I guess Louise won’t have much trade to-day,” said his wife, as they +all sat down; “it’s so hot in the sun that everybody’ll wait till +night. But <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span>she has her tatting-work to do, and she’s got a book, too, +that she wanted to finish.”</p> + +<p>Her husband nodded, and ate away.</p> + +<p>“Oh, can’t we go up street and see her, this afternoon?” said one of +the children.</p> + +<p>“Who can that be?” said the mother, as an elderly, +half-official-looking man stopped his horse at the front gate and +alighted. The man left the horse unchecked to browse by the road-side, +and came to the door.</p> + +<p>“Oh, it’s you, Captain Nourse,” said Wood, rising to open the netting +door, and holding out his hand. “Come to summons me as a witness in +something about the bank case, I suppose. Let me introduce Captain +Nourse, Mary,” he said, “deputy sheriff. Sit down, Captain, and have +some dinner with us.”</p> + +<p>“No, I guess I won’t set,” said the captain. “I cal’lated not to eat +till I got home, in the middle o’ the arternoon. No, I’ll set down in +eye-shot of the mare, and read the paper while you eat.”</p> + +<p>“I hope they don’t want me to testify anywhere to-day,” said Wood; +“because my boat’s half verdigris’d, and I want to finish her this +afternoon.”</p> + +<p>“No testimony to-day,” said the captain. “Hi! hi! Kitty!” he called to +the mare, as she began to meander across the road; and he went out to +a tree by the front fence, and sat down on a green bench, beside a +work-basket and a half-finished child’s dress, and read the country +paper which he had taken from the office as he came along.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span></p><p>After dinner Wood went out bare-headed, and leaned on the fence by the +captain. His wife stood just inside the door, looking out at them.</p> + +<p>The “bank case” was the great sensation of the town, and Wood was one +of the main witnesses, for he had been taking the place of the absent +cashier when the safe was broken open and rifled, to the widespread +distress of depositors and stock-holders and the ruin of Hon. Edward +Clark, the president. Wood had locked the safe on the afternoon before +the eventful night, and had carried home the key with him, and he was +to testify to the contents of the safe as he had left it.</p> + +<p>“I guess they’re glad they’ve got such a witness as John,” said his +wife to herself, as she looked at him fondly, “and I guess they think +there won’t be much doubt about what he says.”</p> + +<p>“Well, Captain,” said Wood, jocosely, breaking a spear of grass to +bits in his fingers, “I didn’t know but you’d come to arrest me.”</p> + +<p>The captain calmly smiled as only a man can smile who has been +accosted with the same humorous remark a dozen times a day for twenty +years. He folded his paper carefully, put it in his pocket, took off +his spectacles and put them in their silver case, took a red silk +handkerchief from his hat, wiped his face, and put the handkerchief +back. Then he said, shortly:</p> + +<p>“That’s what I <i>have</i> come for.”</p> + +<p>Wood, still leaning on the fence, looked at him, and said nothing.</p> + +<p>“That’s just what I’ve come for,” said Captain <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span>Nourse. “I’ve got to +arrest you; here’s the warrant.” And he handed it to him.</p> + +<p>“What does this mean?” said Wood. “I can’t make head nor tail of +this.”</p> + +<p>“Well,” said the captain, “the long and short is: these high-toned +detectives that they’ve had down from town, seein’ as our own force +wasn’t good enough, allow that the safe was unlocked with a key, in +due form, and then the lock was broke afterward, to look as if it had +been forced open. They’ve had the foreman of the safe-men down, too, +and he says the same thing. Naturally, the argument is: there were +only two keys in existence; one was safe with the president of the +bank, and is about all he’s got to show out of forty years’ savings; +the only other one you had: consequently it heaves it on to you.”</p> + +<p>“I see,” said Wood. “I will go with you. Do you want to come into the +house with me while I get my coat?”</p> + +<p>“Well, I suppose I must keep you in sight—now, you know.”</p> + +<p>And they went into the house.</p> + +<p>“Mary,” said her husband, “the folks that lost by Clark when the bank +broke have been at him until he’s felt obliged to pitch on somebody, +and he’s pitched on me; and Captain Nourse has come to arrest me. I +shall get bail before long.”</p> + +<p>She said nothing, and did not shed a tear till he was gone.</p> + +<p>But then——</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span></p><h3>II.</h3> + +<p>Wide wastes of salt marsh to the right, imprisoning the upland with a +vain promise of infinite liberty, and, between low, distant +sand-hills, a rim of sea. Stretches of pine woods behind, shutting in +from the great outer world, and soon to darken into evening gloom. +Ploughed fields and elm-dotted pastures to the left, and birch-lined +roads leading by white farm-houses to the village, all speaking of +cheer and freedom to the prosperous and the happy, but to the +unfortunate and the indebted, of meshes invisible but strong as steel. +But, before, no lonesome marshes, no desolate forest, no farm or +village street, but the free blue ocean, rolling and tumbling still +from the force of an expended gale.</p> + +<p>In the open door-way of a little cottage, warmed by the soft slanting +rays of the September sun, a rough man, burnt and freckled, was +sitting, at his feet a net, engaged upon some handiwork which two +little girls were watching. Close by him lay a setter, his nose +between his paws. Occasionally the man raised his eyes to scan the +sea.</p> + +<p>“There’s Joel,” he said, “comin’ in around the Bar. Not much air +stirrin’ now!”</p> + +<p>Then he turned to his work again.</p> + +<p>“First, you go <i>so</i> fash’,” he said to the children, as he drew a +thread; “then you go <i>so</i> fash’.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span></p><p>And as he worked he made a great show of labor, much to their +diversion.</p> + +<p>But the sight of Joel’s broad white sail had not brought pleasant +thoughts to his mind. For Joel had hailed him, off the Shoal, the +afternoon before, and had obligingly offered to buy his fish, right +there, and so let him go directly home, omitting to mention that +sudden jump of price due to an empty market.</p> + +<p>“Wonder what poor man he’s took a dollar out of to-day! Well, I s’pose +it’s all right: those that’s got money, want money.”</p> + +<p>“What be you, Eli—ganging on hooks?” said Aunt Patience, as she +tip-toed into the kitchen behind him, from his wife’s sick-room, and +softly closed the door after her.</p> + +<p>“No,” said the elder of the children; “he’s mending our stockings, and +showing me how.”</p> + +<p>“Well, you do have a hard time, don’t you?” said Aunt Patience, +looking down over his shoulder; “to slave and tug and scrape to get a +house over your head, and then to have to turn square ’round, and stay +to home with a sick woman, and eat all into it with mortgages!”</p> + +<p>“Oh, well,” he said, “we’ll fetch, somehow.”</p> + +<p>Aunt Patience went to the glass, and holding a black pin in her mouth, +carefully tied the strings of her sun-bonnet.</p> + +<p>“Anyway,” she says, “you take it good-natured. Though if there is one +thing that’s harder than another, it is to be good-natured all <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span>the +time, without being aggravating. I have known men that was so awfully +good-natured that they was harder to live with than if they was +cross!”</p> + +<p>And without specifying further, she opened her plaid parasol, and +stepped out at the porch.</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p>Though, on this quiet afternoon of Saturday, the peace of the +approaching Sabbath seemed already brooding over the little dwelling, +peace had not lent her hand to the building of the home. Every foot of +land, every shingle, every nail, had been wrung from the reluctant +sea. Every voyage had contributed something. It was a great day when +Eli was able to buy the land. Then, between two voyages, he dug a +cellar and laid a foundation; then he saved enough to build the main +part of the cottage and to finish the front room, lending his own hand +to the work. Then he used to get letters at every port, telling of +progress—how Lizzie, his wife, had adorned the front room with a +bright nine-penny paper, of which a little piece was inclosed, which +he kept as a sort of charm about him and exhibited to his friends; how +she and her little brother had lathed the entry and the kitchen, and +how they had set out blackberry vines from the woods. Then another +letter told of a surprise awaiting him on his return; and, in due +time, coming home as third mate from Hong Kong to a seaman’s +tumultuous welcome, he had found that a great, good-natured mason, +with whose sick <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span>child his wife had watched, night after night, had +appeared one day with lime and hair and sand, and in white raiment, +and had plastered the entry and the kitchen, and finished a room +upstairs.</p> + +<p>And so, for years, at home and on the sea, at New York, and at +Valparaiso, and in the Straits of Malacca, the little house and the +little family within it had grown into the fibre of Eli’s heart. +Nothing had given him more delight than to meet, in the strange +streets of Calcutta or before the Mosque of Omar, some practical +Yankee from Stonington or Machias, and, whittling, to discuss with +him, among the turbans of the Orient, the comparative value of shaved +and of sawed shingles, or the economy of “Swedes-iron” nails, and to +go over with him the estimates and plans which he had worked out in +his head under all the constellations of the skies.</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p>The supper things were cleared away. The children had said good-night +and gone to bed, and Eli had been sitting for an hour by his wife’s +bedside. He had had to tax his patience and ingenuity heavily during +the long months that she had lain there to entertain her for a little +while in the evening, after his hard, wet day’s work. He had been +talking now of the coming week, when he was to serve upon the jury in +the adjoining county-town.</p> + +<p>“I cal’late I can come home about every night,” he said, “and it’ll be +quite a change, at any rate.”</p> + +<p>“But you don’t seem so cheerful about it as I <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span>counted you would be,” +said his wife. “Are you afraid you’ll have to be on the bank-case?”</p> + +<p>“Not much!” he answered. “No trouble ’n that case! Jury won’t leave +their seats. These city fellers’ll find they’ve bit off more’n they +can chew when they try to figure out John Wood done that. I only hope +I’ll have the luck to be on that case—all hands on the jury whisper +together a minute, and then clear him, right on the spot, and then +shake hands with him all ’round!”</p> + +<p>“But something is worrying you,” she said. “What is it? You have +looked it since noon.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, nothin’,” he replied—“only George Cahoon came up to-noon to say +that he was goin’ West next week, and that he would have to have that +money he let me have a while ago. And where to get it—I don’t know.”</p> + +<h3>III.</h3> + +<p>The court-room was packed. John Wood’s trial was drawing to its close. +Eli was on the jury. Some one had advised the prosecuting attorney, in +a whisper, to challenge him, but he had shaken his head and said:</p> + +<p>“Oh, I couldn’t afford to challenge him for that; it would only leak +out, and set the jury against me. I’ll risk his standing out against +this evidence.”</p> + +<p>The trial had been short. It had been shown how <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span>the little building +of the bank had been entered. Skilled locksmiths from the city had +testified that the safe was opened with a key, and that the lock was +broken afterward, from the inside—plainly to raise the theory of a +forcible entry by strangers.</p> + +<p>It had been proved that the only key in existence, not counting that +kept by the president, was in the possession of Wood, who was filling, +for a few days, the place of the cashier—the president’s brother—in +his absence. It had been shown that Wood was met, at one o’clock of +the night in question, crossing the fields toward his home, from the +direction of the bank, with a large wicker basket slung over his +shoulders, returning, as he had said, from eel-spearing in Harlow’s +Creek; and there was other circumstantial evidence.</p> + +<p>Mr. Clark, the president of the bank, had won the sympathy of every +one by the modest way in which, with eye-glasses in hand, he had +testified to the particulars of the loss which had left him penniless, +and had ruined others whose little all was in his hands. And then, in +reply to the formal question, he had testified, amid roars of laughter +from the court-room, that it was not he who robbed the safe. At this, +even the judge and Wood’s lawyer had not restrained a smile.</p> + +<p>This had left the guilt with Wood. His lawyer, an inexperienced young +attorney—who had done more or less business for the bank, and would +hardly have ventured to defend this case but that the president had +kindly expressed his entire willingness <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span>that he should do so—had, of +course, not thought it worthwhile to cross-examine Mr. Clark, and had +directed his whole argument against the theory that the safe had been +opened with a key, and not by strangers. But he had felt all through +that, as a man politely remarked to him when he finished, he was only +butting his “head ag’in a stone wall.”</p> + +<p>And while he was arguing, a jolly-looking old lawyer had written, in +the fly-leaf of a law-book on his knee, and passed with a wink to a +young man near him who had that very morning been admitted to the bar, +these lines:</p> + +<div class="bbox centerbox2"><p>“When callow Blackstones soar too high,<br /> +Quit common-sense, and reckless fly,<br /> +Soon, Icarus-like, they headlong fall,<br /> +And down come client, case, and all.”</p></div> + +<p>The district-attorney had not thought it worth while to expend much +strength upon his closing argument; but being a jovial stump-speaker, +of a wide reputation within narrow limits, he had not been able to +refrain from making merry over Wood’s statement that the basket which +he had been seen bearing home, on the eventful night, was a basket of +eels.</p> + +<p>“Fine eels those, gentlemen! We have seen gold-fish and silver-fish, +but golden eels are first discovered by this defendant. The apostle, +in Holy Writ, caught a fish with a coin in its mouth; but this man +leaves the apostle in the dim distance <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span>when he finds eels that are +all money. No storied fisherman of Bagdad, catching enchanted princes +disguised as fishes in the sea, ever hooked such a treasure as this +defendant hooked when he hooked that basket of eels! [Rustling +appreciation of the pun among the jury.] If a squirming, twisting, +winding, wriggling eel, gentlemen, can be said at any given moment to +have a back, we may distinguish this new-found species as the +green-back eel. It is a common saying that no man can hold an eel and +remain a Christian. I should like to have viewed the pious equanimity +of this church-member when he laid his hands on that whole bed of +eels. In happy, barefoot boyhood, gentlemen, we used to find +mud-turtles marked with initials or devices cut in their shells; but +what must have been our friend’s surprise to find, in the muddy bed of +Harlow’s Creek, eels marked with a steel-engraving of the landing of +Columbus, and the signature of the Register of the Treasury! I hear +that a corporation is now being formed by the title of The Harlow’s +Creek Greenback National Bank-bill Eel-fishing Company, to follow up, +with seines and spears, our worthy friend’s discovery! I learn that +the news of this rich placer has spread to the golden mountains of the +West, and that the exhausted intellects which have been reduced to +such names for their mines as ‘The Tombstone,’ ‘The Red Dog,’ the +‘Mrs. E. J. Parkhurst,’ are likely now to flood us with prospectuses +of the ‘Eel Mine,’ ‘The Flat Eel,’ ‘The Double Eel,’ and then, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span>when +they get ready to burst upon confiding friends, ‘The Consolidated +Eels.’”</p> + +<p>It takes but little to make a school or a court-room laugh, and the +speech had appeared to give a good deal of amusement to the listeners.</p> + +<p>To all?</p> + +<p>Did it amuse that man who sat, with folded arms, harsh and rigid, at +the dock? Did it divert that white-faced woman, cowering in a corner, +listening as in a dream?</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p>The judge now charged the jury briefly. It was unnecessary for him, he +said, to recapitulate evidence of so simple a character. The chief +question for the jury was as to the credibility of the witnesses. If +the witnesses for the prosecution were truthful and were not mistaken, +the inference of guilt seemed inevitable; this the defendant’s counsel +had conceded. The defendant had proved a good reputation; upon that +point there was only this to be said: that, while such evidence was +entitled to weight, yet, on the other hand, crimes involving a breach +of trust could, from their very nature, be committed only by persons +whose good reputations secured them positions of trust.</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p>The jury-room had evidently not been furnished by a ring. There was a +long table for debate, twelve hard chairs for repose, twelve spittoons +for luxury, and a clock.</p> + +<p>The jury sat in silence for a few moments, as <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span>old Captain Nourse, who +had them in his keeping, and eyed them as if he was afraid that he +might lose one of them in a crack and be held accountable on his bond, +rattled away at the unruly lock. Looking at them then, you would have +seen faces all of a New England cast but one. There was a tall, +powerful negro called George Washington, a man well known in this +county town, to which he had come, as driftwood from the storm of war, +in ’65. Some of the “boys” had heard him, in a great prayer-meeting in +Washington—a city which he always spoke of as his “namesake”—at the +time of the great review, say, in his strong voice, with that pathetic +quaver in it: “Like as de parched an’ weary traveller hangs his harp +upon de winder, an’ sighs for oysters in de desert, so I longs to res’ +my soul an’ my foot in Mass’chusetts;” and they were so delighted with +him that they invited him on the spot to go home with them, and took +up a collection to pay his fare, and so he was a public character. As +for his occupation—when the census-taker, with a wink to the boys in +the store, had asked him what it was, he had said, in that same odd +tone: “Putties up glass a little—white-washes a little—” and, when +the man had made a show of writing all that down, “preaches a little.” +He might have said “preaches a big,” for you could hear him half a +mile away.</p> + +<p>The foreman was a retired sea-captain. “Good cap’n—Cap’n Thomas,” one +of his neighbors had said of him. “Allers gits good ships—never hez +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span>to go huntin’ ’round for a vessel. But it is astonishin’ what +differences they is! Now there’s Cap’n A. K. P. Bassett, down to the +West Harbor. You let it git ’round that Cap’n A. K. P. is goin’ off on +a Chiny voyage, and you’ll see half a dozen old shays to onct, hitched +all along his fence of an arternoon, and wimmen inside the house, to +git Cap’n A. K. P. to take their boys. But you let Cap’n Thomas give +out that he wants boys, and he hez to glean ’em—from the poor-house, +and from step-mothers, and where he can: the wimmen knows! Still,” he +added, “Cap’n Thomas’s a good cap’n. I’ve nothin’ to say ag’in him. +He’s smart!”</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p>“Gentlemen,” said the foreman, when the officer, at last, had securely +locked them in, “shall we go through the formality of a ballot? If the +case were a less serious one, we might have rendered a verdict in our +seats.”</p> + +<p>“What’s the use foolin’ ’round ballotin’?” said a thick-set butcher. +“Ain’t we all o’ one mind?”</p> + +<p>“It is for you to say, gentlemen,” said the foreman. “I shouldn’t want +to have it go abroad that we had not acted formally, if there was any +one disposed to cavil.”</p> + +<p>“Mr. Speaker,” said George Washington, rising and standing in the +attitude of Webster, “I rises to appoint to order. We took ballast in +de prior cases, and why make flesh of one man an’ a fowl of another?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span></p><p>“Very well,” said the foreman, a trifle sharply. “‘The longest way +round is the shortest way home.’”</p> + +<p>Twelve slips of paper were handed out, to be indorsed guilty, “for +form.” They were collected in a hat and the foreman told them +over—“just for form.” “‘Guilty,’ ‘guilty,’ ‘guilty,’ ‘guilty’;—wait +a minute,” he said, “here is a mistake. Here is one ‘not +guilty’—whose is this?”</p> + +<p>There was a pause.</p> + +<p>“Whose is it?” said the foreman, sharply.</p> + +<p>Eli turned a little red.</p> + +<p>“It’s mine,” he said.</p> + +<p>“Do you mean it?” said the foreman.</p> + +<p>“Of course I mean it,” he answered.</p> + +<p>“Whew!” whistled the foreman. “Very well, sir; we’ll have an +understanding, then. This case is proved to the satisfaction of every +man who heard it, I may safely say, but one. Will that one please +state the grounds of his opinion?”</p> + +<p>“I ain’t no talker,” said Eli, “but I ain’t satisfied he’s +guilty—that’s all.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t you believe the witnesses?”</p> + +<p>“Mostly.”</p> + +<p>“Which one don’t you believe?”</p> + +<p>“I can’t say. I don’t believe he’s guilty.”</p> + +<p>“Is there one that you think lied?”</p> + +<p>No answer.</p> + +<p>“Now it seems to me——” said a third juryman.</p> + +<p>“One thing at a time, gentlemen,” said the foreman. “Let us wait for +an answer from Mr. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span>Smith. Is there any one that you think lied? We +will wait, gentlemen, for an answer.”</p> + +<p>There was a long pause. The trial seemed to Eli Smith to have shifted +from the court to this shabby room, and he was now the culprit.</p> + +<p>All waited for him; all eyes were fixed upon him.</p> + +<p>The clock ticked loud! Eli counted the seconds. He knew the +determination of the foreman.</p> + +<p>The silence became intense.</p> + +<p>“I want to say my say,” said a short man in a pea-jacket—a retired +San Francisco pilot, named Eldridge. “I entertain no doubt the man is +guilty. At the same time, I allow for differences of opinion. I don’t +know this man that’s voted ‘not guilty,’ but he seems to be a +well-meaning man. I don’t know his reasons; probably he don’t +understand the case. I should like to have the foreman tell the +evidence over, so as if he don’t see it clear, he can ask questions, +and we can explain.”</p> + +<p>“I second de motion,” said George Washington.</p> + +<p>There was a general rustle of approval.</p> + +<p>“I move it,” said the pilot, encouraged.</p> + +<p>“Very well, Mr. Eldridge,” said the foreman. “If there is no +objection, I will state the evidence, and if there is any loop-hole, I +will trouble Mr. Smith to suggest it as I go along,” and he proceeded +to give a summary of the testimony, with homely force.</p> + +<p>“Now, sir?” he said, when he had finished.</p> + +<p>“I move for another ballot,” said Mr. Eldridge.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span></p><p>The result was the same. Eli had voted “not guilty.”</p> + +<p>“Mr. Smith,” said the foreman, “this must be settled in some way. This +is no child’s play. You can’t keep eleven men here, trifling with +them, giving no pretence of a reason.”</p> + +<p>“I haven’t any reasons, only that I don’t believe he’s guilty,” said +Eli. “I’m not goin’ to vote a man into states-prison, when I don’t +believe he done it,” and he rose and walked to the window, and looked +out. It was low tide. There was a broad stretch of mud in the +distance, covered with boats lying over disconsolate. A driving storm +had emptied the streets. He beat upon the rain-dashed glass a moment +with his fingers, and then he sat down again.</p> + +<p>“Well, sir,” said the foreman, “this is singular conduct. What do you +propose to do?”</p> + +<p>Silence.</p> + +<p>“I suppose you realize that the rest of us are pretty rapidly forming +a conclusion on this matter,” said the foreman.</p> + +<p>“Come! come!” said Mr. Eldridge; “don’t be quite so hard on him, +Captain. Now, Mr. Smith,” he said, standing up with his hands in his +coat-pockets, and looking at Eli, “we know that there often is crooked +sticks on juries, that hold out alone—that’s to be expected; but they +always argue, and stand to it the rest are fools, and all that. Now, +all is, we don’t see why you don’t sort of argue, if you’ve got +reasons satisfactory to <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span>you. Come, now,” he added, walking up to Eli, +and resting one foot on the seat of his chair, “why don’t you tell it +over? and if we’re wrong, I’m ready to join you.”</p> + +<p>Eli looked up at him.</p> + +<p>“Didn’t you ever know,” he said, “of a man’s takin’ a cat off, to +lose, that his little girl didn’t want drownded, and leavin’ him +ashore, twenty or thirty miles, bee-line, from home, and that cat’s +bein’ back again the next day, purrin’ ’round ’s if nothin’ had +happened?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said Mr. Eldridge—“knew of just such a case.”</p> + +<p>“Very well,” said Eli; “how does he find his way home?”</p> + +<p>“Don’t know,” said Mr. Eldridge; “always has been a standing mystery +to me.”</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Eli, “mark my words. There’s such a thing as arguin’, and +there’s such a thing as knowin’ outright; and when you’ll tell me how +that cat inquires his way home, I’ll tell you how I know John Wood +ain’t guilty.”</p> + +<p>This made a certain sensation, and Eli’s stock went up.</p> + +<p>An old, withered man rapped on the table.</p> + +<p>“That’s so!” he said; “and there’s other sing’lar things! How is it +that a sea-farin’ man, that’s dyin’ to home, will allers die on the +ebb-tide? It never fails, but how does it happen? Tell me that! And +there’s more ways than one of knowin’ things, too!”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span></p><p>“I know that man ain’t guilty,” said Eli.</p> + +<p>“Hark ye!” said a dark old man with a troubled face, rising and +pointing his finger toward Eli. “<i>Know</i>, you say? I <i>knew</i>, wunst. I +<i>knew</i> that my girl, my only child, was good. One night she went off +with a married man that worked in my store, and stole my money—and +where is she now?” And then he added, “What I <i>know</i> is, that every +man hes his price. I hev mine, and you hev yourn!”</p> + +<p>The impugnment of Eli’s motives was evident to all.</p> + +<p>“’Xcuse me, Mr. Speaker,” said George Washington, rising with his hand +in his bosom; “as de question is befo’ us, I wish to say that de las’ +bro’ mus’ have spoken under ’xcitement. Every man <i>don’</i> have his +price! An’ I hope de bro’ will recant—like as de Psalmist goes out o’ +his way to say ‘<i>In my haste</i> I said, All men are liars.’ He was a +very busy man, de Psalmist—writin’ down hymns all day, sharpen’n’ his +lead-pencil, bossin’ ’roun’ de choir—callin’ Selah! Well, bro’n an’ +sisters”—both arms going out, and his voice going up—“one day, seems +like, he was in gre’t haste—got to finish a psalm for a monthly +concert, or such—and some man incorrupted him, and lied; and bein’ in +gre’t haste—and a little old Adam in him—he says, right off, quick: +‘<i>All</i> men are liars!’ But see—when he gets a little time to set back +and meditate, he says: ‘Dis won’ do—dere’s Moses, an’ Job, an’ +Paul—dey ain’t liars!’ An’ <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span>den he don’ sneak out, and ’low he said, +‘All men is lions,’ or such. No! de Psalmist ain’t no such man; but he +owns up, an’ ’xplains: ‘<i>In my haste</i>,’ he says, ‘I said it.’”</p> + +<p>The foreman rose and rapped.</p> + +<p>“I await a motion,” said he, “if our friend will allow me the +privilege of speaking.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Washington calmly bowed.</p> + +<p>Then the foreman, when nobody seemed disposed to move, speaking +slowly, at first, and piece-meal, alternating language with smoke, +gradually edged into the current of the evidence, and ended by going +all over it again, with fresh force and point. His cigar glowed and +chilled in the darkening room as he talked.</p> + +<p>“Now,” he said, when he had drawn all the threads together to the +point of guilt, “what are we going to do upon this evidence?”</p> + +<p>“I’ll tell you something,” said Eli. “I didn’t want to say it because +I know what you’ll all think, but I’ll tell you, all the same.”</p> + +<p>“Ah!” said the foreman.</p> + +<p>Eli stood up and faced the others.</p> + +<p>“’Most all o’ you know what our Bar is in a south-east gale. They +ain’t a man here that ’uld dare to try and cross it when the sea’s +breakin’ on it. The man that says he would, lies!” And he looked at +the foreman, and waited a moment.</p> + +<p>“When my wife took sick, and I stopped goin’ to sea, two year ago, and +took up boat-fishin’, I didn’t know half as much about the coast as +the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span>young boys do, and one afternoon it was blowin’ a gale, and we +was all hands comin’ in, and passin’ along the Bar to go sheer ’round +it to the west’ard, and Captain Fred Cook—he’s short-sighted—got on +to the Bar before he knew it, and then he had to go ahead, whether or +no; and I was right after him, and I s’posed he knew, and I followed +him. Well, he was floated over, as luck was, all right; but when I’d +just got on the Bar, a roller dropped back and let my bowsprit down +into the sand, and then come up quicker’n lightnin’ and shouldered the +boat over, t’other end first, and slung me into the water; and when I +come up, I see somethin’ black, and there was John Wood’s boat runnin’ +by me before the wind with a rush—and ’fore I knew an’thing he had me +by the hair by one hand and in his boat, and we was over the Bar. Now, +I tell you, a man that looks the way I saw him look when I come over +the gunwale, face up, don’t go ’round breakin’ in and hookin’ things. +He hadn’t one chance in five, and he was a married man, too, with +small children. And what’s more,” he added, incautiously, “he didn’t +stop there. When he found out, this last spring, that I was goin’ to +lose my place, he lent me money enough to pay the interest that was +overdue on the mortgage, of his own acord.”</p> + +<p>And he stopped suddenly.</p> + +<p>“You have certainly explained yourself,” said the foreman. “I think we +understand you distinctly.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span></p><p>“There isn’t one word of truth in that idea,” said Eli, flushing up, +“and you know it. I’ve paid him back every cent. I know him better’n +any of you, that’s all, and when I know he ain’t guilty, I won’t say +he is; and I can set here as long as any other man.”</p> + +<p>“Lively times some folks’ll hev, when they go home,” said a spare +tin-peddler, stroking his long yellow goatee. “Go into the store: +nobody speak to you; go to cattle-show: everybody follow you ’round; +go to the wharf: nobody weigh your fish; go to buy seed-cakes at the +cart: baker won’t give no tick.”</p> + +<p>“How much does it cost, Mr. Foreman,” said the butcher, “for a man +’t’s obliged to leave town, to move a family out West? I only ask for +information. I have known a case where a man had to leave—couldn’t +live there no longer—wa’n’t wanted.”</p> + +<p>There was a knock. An officer, sent by the judge, inquired whether the +jury were likely soon to agree.</p> + +<p>“It rests with you, sir,” said the foreman, looking at Eli.</p> + +<p>But Eli sat doggedly with his hands in his pockets, and did not look +up or speak.</p> + +<p>“Say to the judge that I cannot tell,” said the foreman.</p> + +<p>It was eight o’clock when the officer returned, with orders to take +the jury across the street to the hotel, to supper. They went out in +pairs, except <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span>that the juryman who was left to fall in with Eli made +three with the file ahead, and left Eli to walk alone. This was +noticed by the by standers. At the hotel, Eli could not eat a +mouthful. He was seated at one end of the table, and was left entirely +out of the conversation. When the jury were escorted back to the court +house, rumors had evidently begun to arise from his having walked +alone, for there was quite a little crowd at the hotel-door, to see +them. They went as before: four pairs, a file of three, and Eli alone. +Then the spectators understood it.</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p>When the jury were locked into their room again for the night, Mr. +Eldridge sat down by Eli, and lit his pipe.</p> + +<p>“I understand,” he said, “just how you feel. Now, between you and me, +there was a good-hearted fellow that kept me out of a bad mess once. +I’ve never told anybody just what it was, and I don’t mean to tell you +now, but it brought my blood up standing, to find how near I’d come to +putting a fine steamer and two hundred and forty passengers under +water. Well, one day, a year or so after that, this man had a chance +to get a good ship, only there was some talk against him, that he +drank a little. Well, the owners told him they wanted to see me, and +he come to me, and says he, ‘Mr. Eldridge, I hope you’ll speak a good +word for me; if you do, I’ll get the ship, but if they refuse me this +one, I’m dished everywhere.’ Well, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span>the owners put me the square +question, and I had to tell ’em. Well, I met him that afternoon on +Sacramento Street, as white as a sheet, and he wouldn’t speak to me, +but passed right by, and that night he went and shipped before the +mast. That’s the last I ever heard of him. But I had to do it.</p> + +<p>“Now,” he added, “this man’s been good to you; but the case is proved, +and you ought to vote with the rest of us.”</p> + +<p>“It ain’t proved,” said Eli. “The judge said that if any man had a +reasonable doubt, he ought to hold out. Now, I ain’t convinced.”</p> + +<p>“Well, that’s easy said,” replied Mr. Eldridge, a little hotly, and he +arose, and left him.</p> + +<p>The jurymen broke up into little knots, tilted their chairs back, and +settled into the easiest positions that their cramped quarters +allowed. Most of them lit their pipes; the captain, and one or two +whom he honored, smoked fragrant cigars, and the room was soon filled +with a dense cloud.</p> + +<p>Eli sat alone by the window.</p> + +<p>“Sometimes sell two at one house,” said a lank book-agent, arousing +himself from a reverie; “once sold three.”</p> + +<p>“I think the Early Rose is about as profitable as any,” said a little +farmer, with a large circular beard. “I used to favor Jacobs’s +Seedling, but they haven’t done so well with me of late years.”</p> + +<p>“Sometimes,” said the book-agent, picking his teeth with a quill, +“you’ll go to a house, and they’ll say they can’t be induced to buy a +book of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span>any kind, historical, fictitious, or religious; but you just +keep on talking, and show the pictures—‘Grant in Boyhood,’ ‘Grant a +Tanner,’ ‘Grant at Head-quarters,’ ‘Grant in the White House,’ ‘Grant +before Queen Victoria,’ and they warm up, I tell you, and not +infrequently buy.”</p> + +<p>“Do you sell de ‘Illustrated Bible,’” asked Washington, “wid de +Hypocrypha?”</p> + +<p>“No; I have a more popular treatise—the ‘Illustrated History of the +Bible.’ Greater variety. Brings in the surrounding nations, in +costume. Cloth, three dollars; sheep, three-fifty; half calf, +five-seventy-five, full morocco, gilt edges, seven-fifty. Six hundred +and seven illustrations on wood and steel. Three different engravings +of Abraham alone. Four of Noah—‘Noah before the Flood,’ ‘Noah +Building the Ark,’ ‘Noah Welcoming the Dove,’ ‘Noah on Ararat.’ Steel +engraving of Ezekiel’s Wheel, explaining prophecy. Jonah under the +gourd, Nineveh in the distance.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Eldridge and Captain Thomas had drifted into a discussion of +harbors, and the captain had drawn his chair up to the table, and, +with a cigar in his mouth, was explaining an ingeniously constructed +foreign harbor. He was making a rough sketch, with a pen.</p> + +<p>“Here is north,” he said; “here is the coast-line; here are the flats; +here are the sluice-gates; they store the water here, in——”</p> + +<p>Some of the younger men had their heads together, in a corner, about +the tin-peddler, who was <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span>telling stories of people he had met in his +journeys, which brought out repeated bursts of laughter.</p> + +<p>In the corner farthest from Eli, a delicate-looking man began to tell +the butcher about Eli’s wife.</p> + +<p>“Twelve years ago this fall,” he said, “I taught district-school in +the parish where she lived. She was about fourteen then. Her father +was a poor farmer, without any faculty. Her mother was dead, and she +kept house. I stayed there one week, boarding ’round.”</p> + +<p>“Prob’ly didn’t git not much of any fresh meat that week,” suggested +the butcher.</p> + +<p>“She never said much, but it used to divert me to see her order around +her big brothers, just as if she was their mother. She and I got to be +great friends; but she was a queer piece. One day at school, the girls +in her row were communicating, and annoying me, while the third class +was reciting in ‘First Steps in Numbers,’ and I was so incensed that I +called Lizzie—that’s her name—right out, and had her stand up for +twenty minutes. She was a shy little thing, and set great store by +perfect marks. I saw that she was troubled a good deal, to have all of +them looking and laughing at her. But she stood there, with her hands +folded behind her, and not a smile or a word.”</p> + +<p>“Look out for a sullen cow,” said the butcher.</p> + +<p>“I felt afraid I had been too hasty with her, and I was rather sorry I +had been so decided—although, to be sure, she didn’t pretend to deny +that she had been communicating.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span></p><p>“Of course,” said the butcher: “no use lyin’ when you’re caught in the +act.”</p> + +<p>“Well, after school, she stayed at her desk, fixing her dinner-pail, +and putting her books in a strap, and all that, till all the rest had +gone, and then she came up to my desk, where I was correcting +compositions.”</p> + +<p>“Now for music!” said the butcher.</p> + +<p>“She had been crying a little. Well, she looked straight in my face, +and said she, ‘Mr. Pollard, I just wanted to say to you that I wasn’t +doing anything at all when you called me up;’ and off she went. Now, +that was just like her—too proud to say a word before the school.”</p> + +<p>But here his listener’s attention was diverted by the voice of the +book-agent:</p> + +<p>“The very best Bible for teachers, of course, is the limp-cover, +protected edges, full Levant morocco, Oxford, silk-sewed, kid-lined, +Bishop’s Divinity Circuit, with concordance, maps of the Holy Land, +weights, measures, and money-tables of the Jews. Nothing like having a +really——”</p> + +<p>“And so,” said the captain, moving back his chair, “they let on the +whole head of water, and scour out the channel to a T.”</p> + +<p>And then he rapped upon the table.</p> + +<p>“Gentlemen,” he said, “please draw your chairs up, and let us take +another ballot.”</p> + +<p>The count resulted as before. The foreman muttered something which had +a scriptural sound.</p> + +<p>In a few moments, he drew Mr. Eldridge and two <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span>others aside. +“Gentlemen,” he said to them, “I shall quietly divide the jury into +watches, under your charge: ten can sleep, while one wakes to keep Mr. +Smith discussing the question. I don’t propose to have the night +wasted.”</p> + +<p>And, by one man or another, Eli was kept awake.</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p>“I don’t see,” said the book-agent, “why you should feel obliged to +stick it out any longer. Of course, you are under obligations. But +you’ve done more than enough already, so as that he can’t complain of +you, and if you give in now, everybody’ll give you credit for trying +to save your friend, on the one hand, and, on the other hand, for +giving in to the evidence. So you’ll get credit both ways.”</p> + +<p>An hour later, the tin-peddler came on duty. He had not followed +closely the story about John Wood’s loan, and had got it a little +awry.</p> + +<p>“Now, how foolish you be,” he said, in a confidential tone. “Can’t you +see that if you cave in now, after stan’in’ out nine hours”—and he +looked at a silver watch with a brass chain, and stroked his +goatee—“nine hours and twenty-seven minutes—that you’ve made jest +rumpus enough so as’t he won’t dare to foreclose on you, for fear +they’ll say you went back on a trade. On t’other hand, if you hold +clear out, he’ll turn you out-o’-doors to-morrow, for a blind, so ’s +to look as if there wa’n’t no trade between you. Once he gits <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span>off, he +won’t know Joseph, you bet! That’s what I’d do,” he added, with a sly +laugh. “Take your uncle’s advice.”</p> + +<p>“The only trouble with that,” said Eli, shortly, “is that I don’t owe +him anything.”</p> + +<p>“Oh,” said the peddler; “that makes a difference. I understood you +did.”</p> + +<p>Three o’clock came, and brought Mr. Eldridge. He found Eli worn out +with excitement.</p> + +<p>“Now I don’t judge you the way the others do,” said Mr. Eldridge, in a +low tone, with his hand on Eli’s knee. “I know, as I told you, just +the way you feel. But we can’t help such things. Suppose, now, that I +had kept dark, and allowed to the owners that that man was always +sober, and I had heard, six months after, of thirty or forty men going +to the bottom because the captain was a little off his base; and then +to think of their wives and children at home. We have to do some hard +things; but I say, do the square thing, and let her slide.”</p> + +<p>“But I can’t believe he’s guilty,” said Eli.</p> + +<p>“But don’t you allow,” said Mr. Eldridge, “that eleven men are more +sure to hit it right than one man?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said Eli, reluctantly, “as a general thing.”</p> + +<p>“Well, there’s always got to be some give to a jury, just as in +everything else, and you ought to lay right down on the rest of us. It +isn’t as if we were at all squirmish. Now, you know that if you hold +out, he’ll be tried again.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span></p><p>“Yes, I suppose so.”</p> + +<p>“Got to be—no other way,” said Mr Eldridge. “Now, the next time, +there won’t be anybody like you to stand out, and the judge’ll know of +this scrape, and he’ll just sock it to him.”</p> + +<p>Eli turned uneasily in his chair.</p> + +<p>“And then it won’t be understood in your place, and folks’ll turn +against you every way, and, what’s worse, let you alone.”</p> + +<p>“I can stand it,” said Eli, angrily. “Let ’em do as they like. They +can’t kill me.”</p> + +<p>“They can kill your wife and break down your children,” said Mr. +Eldridge. “Women and children can’t stand it. Now there’s that man +they were speaking of; he lived down my way. He sued a poor, shiftless +fellow that had come from Pennsylvania to his daughter’s funeral, and +had him arrested and taken off, crying, just before the funeral +begun—after they’d even set the flowers on the coffin; and nobody’d +speak to him after that—they just let him alone; and after a while +his wife took sick of it—she was a nice, kindly woman—and she had +sort of hysterics, and, finally, he moved off West. And ’twasn’t long +before the woman died. Now, you can’t undertake to do different from +everybody else.”</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Eli; “I know I wish it was done with.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Eldridge stretched his arms and yawned. Then he began to walk up +and down, and hum, out of tune. Then he stopped at Captain Thomas’s +chair.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span></p><p>“Suppose we try a ballot,” he said. “He seems to give a little.”</p> + +<p>In a moment the foreman rapped.</p> + +<p>“It is time we were taking another ballot, gentlemen,” he said.</p> + +<p>The sleepers rose, grumbling, from uneasy dreams.</p> + +<p>“I will write ‘guilty’ on twelve ballots,” said the foreman, “and if +any one desires to write in ‘not,’ of course he can.”</p> + +<p>When the hat came to Eli, he took one of the ballots and held it in +his hand a moment; and then he laid it on the table. There was a +general murmur. The picture which Mr. Eldridge had drawn loomed up +before him. But with a hasty hand he wrote in “not,” dropped in the +ballot, and going back to his chair by the window, sat down.</p> + +<p>There was a cold wave of silence.</p> + +<p>Then Eli suddenly walked up to the foreman and faced him.</p> + +<p>“Now,” he said, “we’ll stop. The very next turn breaks ground. If you, +or any other man that you set on, tries to talk to me when I don’t +want to hear, to worry me to death—look out!”</p> + +<p>How the long hours wore on! How easy, sometimes, to resist an open +pressure, and how hard, with the resistance gone, to fight, as one +that beats the air! How the prospect of a whole hostile town loomed +up, in a mirage, before Eli! And then the picture rose before him of a +long, stately bark, now building, whose owner had asked <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span>him yesterday +to be first mate. And if his wife were only well, and he were only +free from this night’s trouble, how soon, upon the long, green waves, +he could begin to redeem his little home!</p> + +<p>And then came Mr. Eldridge, kind and friendly, to have another little +chat.</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p>Morning came, cold and drizzly. An officer knocked at the door, and +called out, “Breakfast.” And, in a moment, unwashed, and all uncombed, +except the tin-peddler, who always carried a beard-comb in his pocket, +they were marched across the street to the hotel.</p> + +<p>There were a number of men on the piazza waiting to see them—jurymen, +witnesses, and the accused himself, for he was on bail. He had seen +the procession the night before, and, like the others, had read its +meaning.</p> + +<p>“Eli knows I wouldn’t do it,” he had said to himself, “and he’s going +to hang out, sure.”</p> + +<p>The jury began to turn from the court-house door. Everybody looked. A +file of two men, another file, another, another; would there come +three men, and then one? No; Eli no longer walked alone.</p> + +<p>Everybody looked at Wood; he turned sharply away.</p> + +<p>But this time the order of march in fact showed nothing, one way or +the other. It only meant that the judge, who had happened to see the +jury the night before returning from their supper, had sent <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span>for the +high sheriff in some temper—for judges are human—and had vigorously +intimated that if that statesman did not look after his fool of a +deputy, who let a jury parade secrets to the public view, he +would——!</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p>The jury were in their room again. At nine o’clock came a rap, and a +summons from the court.</p> + +<p>The prosecuting attorney was speaking with the judge when they went +in. In a moment he took his seat.</p> + +<p>“John Wood!” called out the clerk, and the defendant arose. His +attorney was not there.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Foreman!” said the judge, rising. The jury arose. The silence of +the crowded court-room was intense.</p> + +<p>“Before the clerk asks you for a verdict, gentlemen,” said the judge, +“I have something of the first importance to say to you, which has but +this moment come to my knowledge.”</p> + +<p>Eli changed color, and the whole court-room looked at him.</p> + +<p>“There were some most singular rumors, after the case was given to +you, gentlemen, to the effect that there had been in this cause a +criminal abuse of justice. It is painful to suspect, and shocking to +know, that courts and juries are liable ever to suffer by such +unprincipled practices. After ten years upon the bench, I never +witness a conviction of crime without pain; but that pain is light, +compared with the distress of knowing of a wilful perversion <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span>of +justice. It is a relief to me to be able to say to you that such +instances are, in my judgment, exceedingly rare, and—so keen is the +awful searching power of truth—are almost invariably discovered.”</p> + +<p>The foreman touched his neighbor with his elbow. Eli folded his arms.</p> + +<p>“As I said,” continued the judge, “there were most singular rumors. +During the evening and the night, rumor, as is often the case, led to +evidence, and evidence has led to confession and to certainty. And the +district attorney now desires me to say to you that the chief officer +of the bank—who held the second key to the safe—is now under arrest +for a heavy defalcation, which a sham robbery was to conceal, and that +you may find the prisoner at the bar—not guilty. I congratulate you, +gentlemen, that you had not rendered an adverse verdict.”</p> + +<p>“Your Honor!” said Eli; and he cleared his throat; “I desire it to be +known that, even as the case stood last night, this jury had not +agreed to convict, and never would have!”</p> + +<p>There was a hush, while a loud scratching pen indorsed the record of +acquittal. Then Wood walked down to the jury-box and took Eli’s hand.</p> + +<p>“Just what I told my wife all through,” he said. “I knew you’d hang +out!”</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p>Eli’s jury was excused for the rest of the day, and by noon he was in +his own village, relieved, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span>too, of his most pressing burden: for +George Cahoon had met him on the road, and told him that he was not +going to the West, after all, for the present, and should not need his +money. But, as he turned the bend of the road and neared his house, he +felt a rising fear that some disturbing rumor might have reached his +wife about his action on the jury. And, to his distress and amazement, +there she was, sitting in a chair at the door.</p> + +<p>“Lizzie!” he said, “what does this mean? Are you crazy?”</p> + +<p>“I’ll tell you what it means,” she said, as she stood up with a little +smile and clasped her hands behind her. “This morning, it got around +and came to me that you was standing out all alone for John Wood, and +that the talk was that they’d be down on you, and drive you out of +town, and that everybody pitied <i>me—pitied me</i>! And when I heard +that, I thought I’d see! And my strength seemed to come all back, and +I got right up, and dressed myself. And what’s more, I’m going to get +well now!”</p> + +<p>And she did.</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="YOUNG_STRONG_OF_THE_CLARION" id="YOUNG_STRONG_OF_THE_CLARION"></a>YOUNG STRONG OF “THE CLARION.”</h2> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">By Milicent Washburn Shinn.</span></p> + +<p class="center">⁂ <i>Overland Monthly, September, 1884.</i></p> + +<p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:2px;padding-bottom:1px;">I</span>f you had asked any resident of Green’s Ferry some eight years +ago—say, in ’76—who were the leading men of his town, he would +doubtless have begun:</p> + +<p>“Well, there’s Judge Garvey, of course. Then there’s Uncle Billy +Green, who built the first shanty there in ’49, and young Strong of +‘The Clarion’—”</p> + +<p>However he might continue his enumeration, it would certainly have +been as above for the first three names. One you would have +recognized, if you had been following State politics closely for some +years; for Judge Garvey was very regularly chosen State senator in his +district, and had held the barren honor of presidential elector the +last time his party carried the State. In ’76, some of the papers were +urging his nomination for Congress, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span>and politicians thought his +chance of such a nomination increasing. It has not turned out so; his +name has quite dropped out of the papers, and it is said he does not +certainly control his own county now; but at that time he was the most +potent political influence in three counties. What he influenced them +to, I never clearly understood, for I cannot recall that I ever heard +his name mentioned in connection with any measure or opinion.</p> + +<p>A file of “The Clarion” during the four years that young Strong was +editor would doubtless throw light on the matter. “The Clarion” was at +this time a sort of voice crying in the wilderness about Reform, which +was a very new idea, indeed, to its readers. Garvey did not like the +paper, and young Strong disliked Garvey very much; but the two men had +kept on fairly good terms—not so rigid good terms, of course, as to +forbid their expressing to third parties the frankest contempt for +each other. The Judge had here the advantage, for Strong despised him +indignantly, as a knave, while he despised Strong—or said he +did—pityingly, as a fool. He must, however, have at bottom honored +the young fellow with some serious antipathy; for it was after all no +laughing matter that a boy of twenty-five should come into “his Gaul, +which he had conquered by arms,” and filch away his home paper from +under his very eyes. Moreover, though people read the editorials, +laughed, and voted with the Judge just the same—they still did read +them. However, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span>Judge Garvey certainly was more civil to Strong than +Strong was to him.</p> + +<p>As for Uncle Billy Green, his rank was due not only to his connection +with the “first shanty” (a house of entertainment at the point where +a trail turned from the river toward the mines), but to his having +remained steadily on the spot ever since, putting up a larger +building at intervals as the settlement gathered around him, until +now he was proprietor of the American Eagle Hotel, a house of goodly +dimensions and generous equipment—billiard-room, bowling alley, +shooting-gallery. Nor did Uncle Billy Green own and conduct this house +in a purely business spirit; a more modest one would have been more +profitable; he liked to “do that much for the town.” A man by the name +of Gulliver had established the old rope-ferry, before the day of +bridges, but it was naturally called Green’s Ferry, being a ferry at +Green’s place. He had been of an undoubted valor in the Indian fights +of early days, was full of reminiscences, had no personal objections +to anybody or anything, and had long given over to Judge Garvey the +trouble of forming his opinions.</p> + +<p>Judge Garvey and young Strong were pretty sure to be put upon such +boards or committees as the local affairs of the small town demanded; +and in local matters they proved to pull together fairly well, however +at odds they were politically. But in the end it was not over +politics, but over the district school, that they fell out squarely. +They <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span>were both trustees, and as Green was the third, the board seemed +in little danger from any too radical reforming tendencies young +Strong might be guilty of, and the Judge had no thought of danger as +he walked down to “The Clarion” office, a breathless September +afternoon, a couple of days before the school should open.</p> + +<p>He found young Strong in his editorial room. This was a corner of the +printing-office, fenced off by a great screen pasted over with old +exchanges. Behind this, Strong sat at his table, correcting proof +energetically. It was evident that he took the editing of this little +four-page weekly rather seriously—but, then, a man must needs be +business-like to produce even four pages weekly with one assistant, +and Strong had to economize time enough from strictly editorial +functions to do a goodly share of type-setting and the rest of the +mechanics of the office.</p> + +<p>“I beg your pardon for interrupting you, Mr. Strong,” said the Judge. +“I perceive you are arduously occupied. But it becomes necessary to +confer with you with regard to the school-teacher.”</p> + +<p>The Judge was a tall and vigorously built man—a little red-faced, but +good-looking, if one did not insist on too fine a definiteness of +outline. He spoke habitually with a certain inflation of manner, and +tried to form himself upon a Southern type that was pretty abundant in +our politics some years earlier. He was, however, a native of rural +New York, early transplanted to California.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span></p><p>Strong turned in his chair, and sitting sidewise, rested his elbow on +the proof-sheets, holding the pencil still in his fingers.</p> + +<p>“Well?” he said. “I thought everything was settled.”</p> + +<p>“Assuredly.” Judge Garvey rested his folded arms upon the pile of +books stacked at the rear of the table, and leaned over them in a +friendly way. “Mr. Coakley is to arrive Sunday evening, and will begin +the term on Monday morning, to the great satisfaction, I can +guarantee, of all concerned. A slight and merely temporary +embarrassment has arisen, with respect to which a few words will make +it all right. In point of fact, the young woman with whom we +previously held correspondence—who, you will remember, broke her +engagement with us to take a more advantageous position—is here.”</p> + +<p>The Judge stopped for question or comment, but as Strong waited for +explanation, he went on:</p> + +<p>“She has, it appears, failed after all to secure that, and come here +expecting to fall back upon our school, not having heard that it was +engaged.”</p> + +<p>“Well, that’s unfortunate for her,” said Strong, “but you can’t ship +Coakley now.”</p> + +<p>“Your views coincide exactly with my own, my dear sir.” The Judge +straightened up with some relief. “I have only to ask, then, for a +note to the lady to that effect, that my own explanation already given +may be corroborated.”</p> + +<p>Strong began to look alert and suspicious at this.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span></p><p>“Views coincide?” he said. “What two views could there be? What does +she say brought her here?”</p> + +<p>“She’s got an idea that she’s got first claim on the place,” said the +Judge, plumping suddenly into colloquial diction. He had a trick of +doing so when he got down to business. It would have had something the +effect of candid confession, produced by a maiden’s plain-hair days +alternated with her waved-hair days, had not the grandiloquence of +tone and manner become so far second nature that it ran through both +his dialects, and lessened the contrast. “You can’t always make a +woman see sense.”</p> + +<p>Strong looked suspiciously at him a few seconds. “Well, I’ll go see +her this evening,” he said. “Where’s she staying?”</p> + +<p>“That is a totally superfluous tax on your time, my dear Strong,” said +the Judge, leaning persuasively across the books again. “I have here a +mere formal line, stating that Coakley is the regularly engaged +teacher of the school, and will begin next Monday; your signature to +it—Green’s and mine are already there—will be all that is +necessary.” He pushed pen and ink toward Strong with his exaggerated +air of courtesy.</p> + +<p>“Oh, I’m not going to sign things that way, you know. I’ll go see +her.” He turned and drew his proof-sheets to him with an air of +dismissal.</p> + +<p>The Judge stood up very straight, expanded his chest, and folded his +arms according to his conception <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span>of the Virginian manner. “Am I to +understand, sir, that you question my veracity?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t question anything,” said the young man, impatiently. “I’ll +know what I’m talking about when I’ve seen her.”</p> + +<p>“Permit me to suggest, sir”—the Judge was approaching his platform +manner—“permit me to suggest, sir, that Mr. Green and myself +constitute a majority of the board, and Mr. Green, sir—Uncle Billy +Green—has confidence in my honor, and will sustain my action, +whatever line you may be persuaded to adopt.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, as to that,” said Strong, exaggerating his crispness of manner in +protest against the Judge’s staginess, “I’m clerk of the board, and +you can’t hold a legal meeting nor pay a salary without me. What’s the +reason you don’t want me to see her?”</p> + +<p>Judge Garvey unfolded his arms, fell back a step, and dropped easily +into the sonorous declamation that made the stalwart Judge no +inconspicuous figure on the floor of the Legislature. The newspapers, +of course, were responsible for his language—as for the rest of his +education; but such as it was, he used it fluently, and the +declamatory manner was, to his constituency, quite an essential of +eloquence—the prime difference, in fact, between oratory and plain +talking.</p> + +<p>“You cast aspersions upon my honor, sir. Through me you insult the +people of Green’s Ferry—of this county—of this district—the +enlightened and honorable constituency who it is my <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span>proud honor to +represent. I sco-r-n to answer your insinuations, sir. They will be +hurled back upon yourself by the united voice and righteous +indignation of my justly aroused fellow-townsmen, by the voters of +this noble district—I may say, by the whole State of California—to +which I am not unknown, sir.”</p> + +<p>Half-a-dozen of the justly aroused fellow-townsmen were straggling in +from the street, for in Green’s Ferry a sprinkling of the citizens +spend the warm afternoons sitting in absolute tranquillity on boxes +and barrels here and there, under the awnings of the several business +blocks; and the knowledge that a row was at last on between Judge +Garvey and young Strong reached them at the first peal. The Judge, +alive to the increase of his audience, raised his voice a shade, and +went on with a curious mixture of complacency and genuine wrath.</p> + +<p>“Is it lack of confidence that has sent me to represent my honorable +constituency in the legislative halls of California, Mr. Strong? Have +I received that proud token of esteem only to be insulted by one whose +obscurity is his only shield; who, with unknown record, with no +recommendation save his own overwhelming self-esteem, comes among us +to sow dissent in peaceful counsels, and draw scorn and contempt upon +his own head by impotent and futile attacks upon those whom he is +powerless to harm?”</p> + +<p>This rounded the climax well, so the Judge only <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span>added: “The call you +propose, sir, I shall regard as a direct insult to myself,” and strode +dramatically from the room.</p> + +<p>The papered screen went crashing to the floor behind him. The justly +aroused fellow-townsmen looked after him, laughing but admiring.</p> + +<p>“Laid you out, didn’t he, Strong?”</p> + +<p>“That’s the way he does it at Sacramento. Oh, the Judge is a real +orator—there’s no doubt of that.”</p> + +<p>“<i>He</i> don’t have to make his speech up before-hand. No, sir, right +where he is, any time of day, he just turns the faucet, and there it +comes.”</p> + +<p>“What was the row, anyway, Strong?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know myself; something about a teacher—he began to bluster +all of a sudden.” Strong walked over to the screen, picked it up, set +it straight along a crack with intense precision, and went back to his +seat. “Drunk, isn’t he? I haven’t heard him take the stump that way +since election. He’s always made rather a point of not quarrelling +with me, too.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, he’s no drunker’n usual,” answered with candor a fellow-townsman. +“The Judge ain’t really himself until he’s a little off. He didn’t +blow so without some reason; don’t you fool yourself—not if <i>I</i> know +the man.”</p> + +<p>“Well, if he’s got any game he must have come to his last chance in +it, to try bullying on <i>me</i>,” said Strong; and then another of the +group asked:</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span></p><p>“What row could there be about a teacher, Strong? Thought you’d given +him his man.”</p> + +<p>The pencil rolled from the edge of the table across the floor at +Strong’s movement of attention. “Coakley?—what of him?”</p> + +<p>The man began to laugh, and one or two others joined in. One of them +said a little offensively: “Pretty good on you, youngster! You took +too big a contract for your age when you undertook to keep up with +Judge Garvey. He’ll give you odds and take you in, every time.”</p> + +<p>Strong reddened a little, but waited to be answered with very fair +composure.</p> + +<p>“Didn’t you really know, Strong? The Judge scored one on you that +time, then. Why, he’s been Garvey’s man in Sierra Township one or two +elections now. Used to be a Millerite preacher, before your day, but +he broke down at that. Good hand in county politics, but he’s always +completely out of business between times. Why you remember him, +Strong—he was round with the Judge election times—cross-eyed fellow, +with black siders.”</p> + +<p>“<i>That</i> fellow? Why, he can’t spell straight! The way of it was, Judge +Garvey told us only Tuesday that the teacher we’d got—first-rate +certificates—had backed out; and we couldn’t put off beginning school +any longer, nor hear of any teacher to be had; so when he produced +this man, we had really no choice. I suppose I needn’t ask where he +got his certificates.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span></p><p>“No—Garvey’s solid with this county board and superintendent.”</p> + +<p>“Disgraceful!” said Strong; whereat all laughed, except one who had +lost a ranch a few years before during business dealings with the +Judge.</p> + +<p>“Oh, he’s a scamp—I wouldn’t trust him out of sight with his baby’s +silver mug,” said this man, with feeling. The rest laughed again. In +Green’s Ferry a certain easy-going good-heartedness is required by the +public conscience, rather than decalogue virtues. Garvey liked sharp +practice—all right; if you were yourself hurt, you would naturally +begin to vote against him; otherwise, it was none of your business, +except as successful rascality had a claim on your admiration. Young +Strong liked to write furious reform editorials—all right; if you +were the one hit, you would swear at Strong and stop your subscription +until a hit on some one else made you renew it; otherwise, it was none +of your business and lively reading. They leaned against the wall and +desk, and began with perfect good-nature to tell stories of the Judge. +“R’member the time he got that Mexican ranch? Fellow thought it was a +bill of sale for thirty acres he was signing, and it was three +hundred.”</p> + +<p>“Best thing was when he made old man Meeker believe he was dying, and +deed over a good fifty thousand dollars in stock to his daughter—and +married the girl, sir, before the old fellow found <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span>he was good for +twenty years more. He made the air smell of brimstone the rest of his +life if you mentioned Garvey to him! Drowned in a ford a winter or two +later, after all. Used to live in a little shanty up Indian Crick and +raise potatoes—and Garvey sent him a cow—cheekiest thing!”</p> + +<p>Strong turned sharply away from the laugh that followed, and went on +with his work, while they slowly dispersed. He worked on savagely with +brows drawn together. “It isn’t so much the existence of scoundrels +like Garvey that gets me,” he was saying to himself, “as the way the +whole crowd of them take him.” He stopped to read over the words he +was correcting—they were editorial:</p> + +<p>“Was ever folly greater than this of our community, in dropping +everything else to run after money. For what do you expect to do with +it when you get it? Better eating, and drinking, and the privilege of +being toadied to by those who want to make something out of you—what +more can you get out of money, if you have never made anything of +<i>yourself</i>? Just as a pig, if he might take his choice whether he +would be turned into a man or would be moved into a cosier sty, with +more unbounded swill, would doubtless choose the sty!”</p> + +<p>“My broom against the ocean,” he said; but he went on correcting +doggedly.</p> + +<p>And, not to conceal from you what was in reality the most significant +fact about Will Strong—the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span>key to about everything he thought and +did—he was mentally submitting this editorial, as he had submitted +every other he had written, to the test of the probable opinion of a +young woman he had not seen nor heard from for two years, but who +nevertheless constituted to his mind the chief motive for +existence—if not the chief and sufficient explanation of the human +race’s having been created at all. You must realize, before trying to +understand his story, that Will Strong was really a very romantic +young man indeed, though he pretended to Green’s Ferry that he was +not.</p> + +<p>Outside the screen, the strips of sun through the western window and +open door lengthened across the meagre collection of dusty fonts of +type, the small press, the piles of papers. The black-fingered, +red-haired boy setting type among them reflected that it must be +nearly dinner-time, and turned to see how far in the hot strips had +crept—turned, and stood staring; for he met squarely the inquiring +look of a pair of clear eyes, and became aware of a lady in the +door-way.</p> + +<p>It is probable that Jim had never dreamed in his life of any other +social distinction than that between rich and poor, notorious and +obscure, nor was he a lad of perceptions; yet he knew at once that +this was a very unusual sort of lady for Green’s Ferry. If he had been +a man of the social world he would have known that she was a +gentlewoman of notably high-bred appearance. She glanced, not without +dismay, about the shabby <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span>work-room, as if she felt herself where she +had no business to be. Nevertheless, she came forward frankly, and +asked in the friendly way of one whose station needs no asserting:</p> + +<p>“Mr. Strong?—one of the school-board?—Is he here?”</p> + +<p>“Yes’m.” The boy made no motion, but stood blankly staring.</p> + +<p>“May I see him, please?”</p> + +<p>“Lady to see you, Mr. Strong,” shouted Jim, standing still.</p> + +<p>In the few seconds before Strong emerged, the lady stood her ground in +the middle of the floor, with some appearance of anxiety. She was +certainly a very noticeable person, and came nearer to warranting that +strong word “beautiful” than falls often to the lot of woman. It was a +matter of outline more than color, however, for she had not much of +that about her—brown hair, blue-gray eyes, skin of a warm paleness. +All this low coloring, however, was so perfect of its sort, that it +gave something the effect of a fine etching—a rich distinctness +attained by shades, not colors. Instead of being outshone by more +brilliant-hued women, Miss Northrop had always had the effect of +making them look chromo-like. So, too, a certain nobility and +self-forgetfulness of manner made the more elaborate manners of others +seem the crude device of inferiority. It was a good deal due to +her eyes; she had most wonderful eyes, and I doubt if any man or +many women ever met them in a full <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span>look without feeling a little +stir of pulse—whether it was in the lashes, or in the sweet +straightforwardness of look, utterly devoid of coquetry, or in the +depth of the gray, or in what; certain it is that no one ever saw Miss +Northrop without talking of her beautiful eyes.</p> + +<p>“A lady to see him?” The word in Green’s Ferry defined only the sex. +Some one with a notice of a flock of sheep for sale, which she wanted +to get in as a local; or with an ill-spelled poem; or—by George, +yes—that school-mistress. Lucky she had not met Garvey there—poor +girl! Strong laid his pencil down, and came out from behind the screen +good-naturedly enough—and stopped short. What a thing to happen to a +man, that he should live and move and have his being for a dozen years +in the thought of one woman, should count a world worth living in +because she was somewhere on it, and a pitiful human race worth +working for because they were her fellow-creatures—and should come +out from behind his screen, and see her before his eyes—on his dingy +work-room floor—out of her four thousand miles’ distance!</p> + +<p>They had been four years schoolmates in a New England High School. +Will was a farmer’s lad, from an outlying, rocky village, who worked +for his board while he went to school. He came of an unschooled, +hard-working, God-fearing yeoman race. Winifred could look up every +line of her descent, through vista of governors, college-presidents, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span>and ministers, back to Colonial aristocracy and gentry beyond sea. +Her great-grandfathers had carried swords in Revolutionary battles, +where Will’s had followed with muskets. Winifred herself was +one of those flowers into which excellent family trees break +occasionally—flowers so lovely that no excellence of the tree seems +enough to account for them. If she had any core of aristocratic +coldness, it was so overlaid by a sweet humaneness, a frank generosity +of impulse, that no one would have known it. If she had been a man, to +have a valet, she would have been a hero to him.</p> + +<p>Even in the democracy of school, Will Strong knew well enough the +difference between his shy awkwardness and her pleasant frankness; and +knew that though he could meet school requirements about as well as +she, yet his mental range was crude and narrow beside hers; and any +one could see that in the town where he was an unknown boy she was an +important young lady. These things would not have counted for much had +not some mediæval follower of some exiled king dropped down into the +boy’s temperament that passion of self-abasing loyalty that is rather +an anachronism in our democratic days. They had been on terms of +friendliness rather than friendship in school, but that was due more +to his shyness than anything else. She had really given to him more +opportunities than to most of her schoolmates; she liked his integrity +and earnestness.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span></p><p>He had looked to college as the natural door between his world and +hers; after four years at New Haven he might seek her acquaintance +without audacity. To that end he had laboriously accumulated money, +and had even passed his matriculation, when his father’s death made +him indispensable on the poor little farm. Since then he had doggedly +plodded alone through the college curriculum, but without finding in +it the mysterious pass-word that he had expected into the intellectual +aristocracy. Some two years before, his mother’s death and the growing +up of younger brothers had left him free to seek his fortune in +California. At twenty-seven he had lost his fresh look and boyish +shyness; he looked older than he was, but he was really very youthful, +and believed in all sorts of abstractions beginning with capitals. His +mental furniture, being obtained from books, not people, was not quite +in the style of the present decade, and he read Carlyle and Emerson +more than Herbert Spencer. His creed had, therefore, quite +transcendentalism enough to accommodate without incongruity his little +private deification.</p> + +<p>Once in every year or two, as opportunity took him near her home, he +had called on her, and had multiplied each call mightily by thinking +of it before and after. He had also kept up a stupid correspondence +with a schoolmate who had lived in the same town with her, for the +chance of her name being mentioned. Within a couple of years, however, +she had lost her father and gone to relatives <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span>in New York, so he had +lost exact knowledge even of her whereabouts.</p> + +<p>She spoke before he had found his voice—without an instant’s +hesitation, indeed. “Oh, Will Strong!” she cried, stepping quickly +toward him and holding out her hand. “I <i>hoped</i> it was you!”</p> + +<p>He took the offered hand, and said to himself that his own was +consecrated by the touch to clean deeds forever. He would not have +known how to address her, but he followed her leading.</p> + +<p>“It is Winifred Northrop!” he said. “What is it? Can I do something +for you?”</p> + +<p>“You are school-committee man, are you not?” Anxiety, relief, and +trust mingled in her voice.</p> + +<p>“Trustee—yes. Why,” he cried, “it isn’t possible that <i>you</i> are the +lady!”</p> + +<p>She laughed. “I suppose the lady must be I.”</p> + +<p>He did not smile. He even lost color with wrath. “Garvey has dared to +play you some trick!—I did not dream—” he went on, eagerly, “Garvey +kept the letters in his hands, and bungled over the name, so I did not +once fairly catch it.”</p> + +<p>He turned back to his corner, and put the remaining bit of proof into +his pocket. New heavens and new earth had come into existence since +the last pencil mark on it.</p> + +<p>“Jim,” he said, “I’m called off on school-business. You get as much of +that set up as you can before dinner, and then lock up; and I’ll come +down and make the corrections in the editorials before I go to bed. +Now—Winifred—if I may <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span>walk home with you, we’ll get to the bottom +of Garvey’s tricks. Villain!”</p> + +<p>The epithet was so fervent, and so entirely without humorous intent, +that Miss Northrop laughed again as they walked out into the dull, hot +September afternoon sun. The board sidewalk was uneven and full of +projecting nails and splinters, and she held her thin, blue-gray dress +prettily aside from them; Will noted the gesture with admiration as +intense as unreasonable. It seemed to him peculiarly admirable that +she should draw her hat a little forward to shade her eyes, and should +take just the length of step that she did; the absolutely right step +for a lady was thenceforth settled; since then, he has insisted +unreasonably upon a certain shade as the only right thing in gray, as +if he held in his own mind some positive standard beyond the realm of +variable taste.</p> + +<p>The two or three business blocks—rows of slight frame-buildings, more +of them saloons than would seem possible—were very quiet; Green’s +Ferry is the shipping point of a wide stock-raising district, and all +its activity centres about the railroad station at stated times daily. +The justly aroused fellow-townsmen were all back under the +awnings—leaning against the wall by the post-office, sitting on boxes +by the grocery; some indolently telling stories and chaffing; some +looking sleepily before them in absolute repose; some in various +stages of inert drunkenness. All stared curiously at young Strong and +the strange lady, and prepared to <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span>talk them over afterward, but no +one addressed him.</p> + +<p>They turned aside soon into a broad cross street with no sidewalk, +where the coarse dust was in places ankle deep. Behind them, beyond +the main street, a few groups of yellowing cottonwoods on bare banks +of reddish clay marked the course of the Sacramento; before them the +street faded into a limitless expanse of gravel, thinly dotted in the +distance with dull green oaks, and bounded by long knolls, like +wrinkles in the plain, dark with oaks against the smoky sky of +September—a sky dull blue above, dull gray near the horizon.</p> + +<p>Along either side of the street the flimsy wooden houses were set +back, each in its yard, and surrounded by oleanders; sometimes there +would be a few parched roses, a trellis of Madeira-vine, a patch of +carefully nursed grass, often a row of China trees, whose fallen black +seeds stippled the dust—but always the great rosy clumps of +oleanders, glorying in the heat and drought. Every evening after +dinner the owners come out, and stand watering these gardens with hose +and sprinkler, till all along the street there is a murmur like rain +and a smell of damp earth, and here and there through the warm +twilight a glimpse of the white sprays of water; while the families +sit on the porches and doorstep, and gossip and laugh. At this hour, +however, the little gardens and splendid oleanders lay hot and +deserted in the dusty afternoon.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span></p><p>“I haven’t till now had time to spare from being anxious to be +interested,” Miss Northrop said. “I was rather panic-stricken this +morning, and things were awful, instead of interesting, in proportion +to their newness.”</p> + +<p>This bit of pathos stiffened Will’s manner with the awkwardness of +over-feeling, as he asked: “Now, what can I do for you—Winifred?”</p> + +<p>The awkwardness made him more like the school-boy Will; and then, a +familiar face four thousand miles from home seems more familiar than +it really is. Miss Northrop answered confidingly: “I will tell you all +about it, and then you will know what to do. I wrote to Judge +Garvey—some one referred me to him at Sacramento—and asked if I +might teach the school. He wrote back that I might, fixed the day, and +directed me to a boarding-place that he had engaged for me. So I came +by yesterday evening’s train, and sent word that I was here. This +morning he called and told me—with most oppressive civility—that as +I had not answered his last letter, the place had been given to some +one else. He said ‘professional etiquette’ here demands an answer in +such a case, and failure to answer is equivalent to a withdrawal of +the application.”</p> + +<p>“He lied,” said Will, parenthetically, walking along with his eyes on +the ground; she, on the contrary, looked at him often, with frank +directness.</p> + +<p>“He did not impress me,” she said, “as the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span>soul of candor. I said as +little as possible to him, but when he was gone I asked about the rest +of the committee, and as soon as I heard your name I hoped it was you; +I knew you were somewhere in California. This afternoon I received his +letter written to prevent my coming. It had followed me up here by the +same train that I came on.” She held the letter in her hand, and Will +quietly took it and kept it. “I would not raise any controversy about +such a thing,” she went on, “if I had any idea in the world where else +to go or what to do.” Her voice sharpened a little again, with a note +of pathos.</p> + +<p>Will did not know how to answer without seeming to question or +comment, so there came a pause; then he said:</p> + +<p>“This Coakley was an electioneering agent of Garvey’s, and doesn’t +know enough to teach babies. He seems to have turned up suddenly +wanting help, and the Judge is willing enough to keep him on hand and +under obligations until next election.”</p> + +<p>Miss Northrop stopped short and looked at him with brows a little +raised, and her bearing became impalpably more distant.</p> + +<p>“But I cannot enter into contest with—these men for permission to +teach school here,” she said.</p> + +<p>She was right, in her quick feeling that Will Strong’s training could +not have made work and discomfort and contact with vulgarity seem +outside the sphere of women. If it had been one of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span>his own sisters he +would have said: “Oh, well, we have to take the world as we find it. +Brace up, little girl; I’ll put you safe through, and you’ll find it’s +not so bad, after all.”</p> + +<p>But what he said to Winifred Northrop was: “It is outrageous! Such +brutes as Garvey have no business to look at a lady! If you really +prefer not to take the school,” he went on, with some embarrassment, +“I hope you will call on me to help you in any other way; but if you +want the school you shall have it, and no annoyance with it that I can +help.”</p> + +<p>Miss Northrop repented that she had repented her confidence. “I +remembered that you were kind of old, Will”—and her manner was +irresistibly winning when she said such a thing—“but you are so very +kind now that you make me ashamed. I only meant to ask you what I must +do. Yes, I must take this position if I can, for I have no +alternative.”</p> + +<p>“There is nothing for you to do,” he said. “It is my place, as an +officer of the school, to see that its rightful teacher is not +defrauded.”</p> + +<p>“So it is,” she said, relieved. “But I am none the less grateful.”</p> + +<p>“It is a pleasure to me to be able to do anything for you,” he said, +gravely, somewhat stiffly—from his tone you would not have suspected +much more truth than usual in the formula.</p> + +<p>She only said: “You are very kind,” and then he lifted his hat, and +left her at Mrs. Stutt’s gate.</p> + +<p>He deliberately and literally believed, as he <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span>walked down the +street—directly to Green’s—that he was the happiest man in the +world. For that matter, it is not impossible that he was. He was +absolutely innocent of conscious hyperbole in saying, “It would be +worth a life-time of trouble only to have <i>seen</i> her; and I know her +and am able to do her a service!”</p> + +<p>He scored one advantage in having seen Miss Northrop early; he saw +Green before Garvey had talked with him. The report of the quarrel had +by no means failed to reach “The American Eagle,” and when Strong came +in Uncle Billy Green was just expressing himself with regard to +Coakley:</p> + +<p>“Of course the Judge’ll provide for his man when he gets a chance. +That’s where he’s sharp. And if Coakley is smart enough to suit Judge +Garvey, he’s smart enough to teach <i>my</i> children—that’s what <i>I</i> +say.”</p> + +<p>A private audience with him would have been merely postponing the hour +of general discussion, so Strong made a brief exposition of his +case—gently enough, but with considerable force—then and there, +displaying the letter he carried by way of proof. He hardly expected +to elicit anything but the usual laugh and comment on the Judge’s +smartness. But there was a marked seriousness of tone in the remarks +when he ended.</p> + +<p>“Well, that <i>is</i> pretty rough.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir, that’s going too far. The Judge ought to know where to +stop. I don’t stand by no <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span>man when it comes to a shabby trick on an +unprotected school-marm.”</p> + +<p>“A real lady, too—I could see that when she went by with you, +Strong.”</p> + +<p>Even Green said, uneasily, “No, I shouldn’t think the Judge ought to +do that, quite.”</p> + +<p>It was evident that Green’s Ferry drew its lines as much as any other +town. The moral support it offered Strong was mainly negative, +however, and Green, after several alternate conversations with his two +fellow trustees during this Saturday evening, went off early Sunday +morning to visit his married daughter at the old Meeker place, leaving +word that they must fix it between them. Judge Garvey closed the +somewhat stormy conference of Saturday evening with a promise to break +down Miss Northrop’s school in a week, and Strong’s paper in a month. +“Do you flatter yourself I should not have had your contemptible sheet +in powder under my feet, sir, before this, if I had thought it worth +the attention?” Nevertheless, as there was nothing on which the Judge +prided himself more than on his invariable civility to ladies (“the +courtly Judge” was his favorite phrase in writing up a local notice of +any affair at which he had been present), Strong, having possession of +the school-house key, was able to put Miss Northrop into possession on +Monday morning without opposition. The Judge even visited her during +the day and addressed the school with extreme suavity.</p> + +<p>He was, however, very seriously affronted, and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span>had not passed his +Sunday without diligent preparation among parents and children to make +Miss Northrop’s position untenable. It would have been no difficult +task, either, but for an altogether unprecedented obstacle—a factor +that he had not dreamed of in his calculations, and that Strong +himself had underestimated. The children, who had gone to school +Monday morning primed for mutiny, surrendered their hearts in a body +to Miss Northrop by night; three days later, Uncle Billy Green’s +niece, who taught the primary school, gave in adoring allegiance; by +the end of the week everybody who had seen her was her advocate. It +was certainly an unprecedented thing that Judge Garvey’s best +exertions should come to naught, because of a woman’s way of smiling +and speaking; but Miss Northrop’s tenure of the school was secure. It +was not entirely speech and smile, however. Miss Northrop was +interested in everything, and consequently had common ground with +everybody; and she met each one on that ground, not so much ignoring +as temporarily forgetting differences.</p> + +<p>The year wore on from gray to gray; the parching north wind poured +down the plain and darkened the air with gritty dust; the sky, though +cloudless, grew murkier every day. Then the wind shifted to the south, +and the sky grew darker yet with surging heaps of clouds, and at last +down came the late November rain; and next morning Miss Northrop could +see, like a miraculous <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span>creation of the night, up and down every +east-and-west street, a range of azure mountains along either horizon, +snow-crowned, clear-cut, against an exquisite blue sky. Every two or +three weeks the surge of clouds would come rolling up with the south +wind, and the rain would come down in torrents for days, till the +Sacramento, yellow with mud, roared level with its banks; and then the +storm would break away, and there would be a week or two of blue sky +and brilliant air and green earth.</p> + +<p>One Sunday in March, between the early and the latter rains, Miss +Northrop and Will Strong walked out together several miles over the +plain. The gravel had long disappeared under green burclover and +<i>filaria</i>, thickly dotted with the little yellow clover blossoms, the +lilac ones of the <i>filaria</i>, and with small blue gilias. The flocks +and herds had been driven down from the mountains where they spend +their summers and autumns, and the air was full of the bleating of +lambs. Up and down either horizon, converging toward the north, were +the long ranks of the Sierras and Coast Range, deep blue, ruggedly +tipped with white peaks of all shapes—the Lassen Buttes, the Yallo +Balleys, and many a lesser one. Northward, in the interval between the +ranges, miles and miles away, the solitary peak of Shasta rose above +the dark oak-knolls, sharp-white from base to tip, against a stainless +sky. They sat down on the warm clover, beside a noisy yellow stream +that ran <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span>full to its banks on its way to the Sacramento. Winifred +pushed back her hat, dropped her hands in her lap, and let her senses +be played upon by the delicious air, the blue and white of mountains +and sky and clouds, the luminous green, the rushing of water close by, +and the bleating of flocks in the distance. It gave Will a good chance +to watch her face—the sweetness of the mouth; the nobility of the +level brows; the frankness of the eyes; the soft wave of her hair. +There was a marked sadness in her face in repose; to wonder why, was +to transgress the code of loyal humility that Will set himself; he had +not even considered it due chivalry to speculate, much less ask, as to +the reason of so amazing a phenomenon as her presence in California at +all, and the incongruity of her school-teaching. Her pose was perfect, +and yet nothing could be more unconscious. Was that marvellous +spontaneity, that simple dignity, the regular thing among the men and +women Winifred belonged with? It made him feel left very far out to +think so. How incapable of effort for admiration she was, yet how +invariably admirable!</p> + +<p>She caught him looking at her, in time. “What is it?” she said, +simply.</p> + +<p>He colored with some confusion, but confessed a piece of his thought. +“I was wondering if you really do not care at all for admiration. Most +people would think they got the good of their living in being praised +a fraction as much as you’ve been. If that’s impertinent I beg your +pardon; you asked me.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span></p><p>The portion of aristocrat’s pride that was in Winifred was largely +concentrated in an objection to talking of herself or letting other +people do it; so she looked a little annoyed. She began with some +constraint:</p> + +<p>“Yes—I care—at first—when it is the right one that praises. But +there is always a reaction of self-distrust. It seems humiliating,” +she went on more frankly, “to have been praised for having done some +common thing—solved a problem, or written a poem, or handled a +piano—a little more or less cleverly, when one comes to think what +education and art are. And <i>personal</i> admiration—that always seems a +contemptible sort of folly, if you think of what great things there +are to do and be in the world, and the lives the great lonely souls +have lived.”</p> + +<p>“Your achievement seems little to you,” said Will, with some gloom, +“because, I suppose, more always opens to you. To me, who have made +none—”</p> + +<p>“Why, Will,” she cried, with the most genuine dissent. “You have done +more than almost any one I know. Do you call it nothing to do a +college curriculum alone and under all sorts of hindrances? And I know +that it was done well and thoroughly.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes,” he said, indifferently, tossing bits of clover into the +stream, “I could have passed an A. B. fast enough. But you know better +than I do, Winifred, that that’s the least of a college course. I’ve +seen fellows that had to work their <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span>way through and had no spare time +or energy, and they always lacked a great deal of the college flavor; +the education didn’t permeate ’em. Then there are other things—music, +art, social opportunities, capacity of expression—that are no slight +things to miss; they make up more of first-class living than Greek +optatives or the equation of a surface. It isn’t really possible for a +man, not backed by circumstances, to get himself into a position that +some are born to.” He let the clover be and looked up. “Oh, I’m not +growling, Winifred,” he said, hastily, smiling, as he saw her about to +speak eagerly. “I’m only making philosophical observations, and using +myself as an illustration. Why in the world should I growl to find +myself stranded half way up, when there is a townful of people behind +us clear down at the bottom, and no more their fault than mine? Why +should I mind that I am left out from the best chances, any more than +that a thousand other fellows are? ‘What Act of Legislature was there +that’ <i>I</i> should be cultured?”</p> + +<p>She was leaning forward with her irresistible eyes full on his, and +face and voice vivified with that sympathetic expressiveness that +makes speech count for far more than the words.</p> + +<p>“Will, that is true,” she cried, “but it is only part of the truth. +‘Close thy’ Carlyle; ‘open thy’ Emerson. It’s true, you have missed +some things that you deserved to have and that many of your inferiors +have for nothing. But your life is only <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span>begun, and your ability and +pluck can do so much that you needn’t waste regret on anything they +may fail to do. Even if circumstances be unconquerable that stand +between you and some good things, are the things you have gained +instead of less value?—your courage and patience, your self-reliance +and trustworthiness and helpfulness? Why, Will, <i>character</i> is worth +more than knowledge of art, or familiarity with good society; just to +live bravely is worth more than all the rest. Do you suppose I would +exchange your companionship for that of a dozen ‘cultured’ people who +could talk to me about ‘sincere furniture‘”—this was in the last +decade, remember—“and Rauss’s heads, as you can’t, and who never +showed me one spark of genuine feeling about the great things of life, +as you can?”</p> + +<p>Will was overwhelmed. Winifred had talked of his affairs much, +following them with unvarying interest, but of himself or herself, +never; and it was actually a new idea to the young fellow that she +could have any very high opinion of him. Moreover, it was the first +time he had heard her speak with unveiled and ardent feeling.</p> + +<p>“You do not mean”—and he formed his words with difficulty—“that I +could meet on equal ground people that—such people as <i>your</i> +associates.”</p> + +<p>“No; you would meet most of them on higher ground. If they didn’t know +it, that would be their discredit. I should think you could see +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span>that,” she added, in a quick, parenthetic averse way, “from <i>their</i> +associate. If you want to get a higher opinion of the value of your +life, compare it with an ordinary, foolish, useless one—like mine.” +She gave him no chance to answer that, but was the next moment on her +feet, suggesting that they walk on, and wishing they were not to stop +short of the Lassen Buttes, whose apparent nearness, scores of miles +distant as they were, was still a perpetual surprise to her eastern +eyes.</p> + +<p>When everything has been made ready for it, a few sentences may easily +make or mark an era in life; and it is probable that if Miss Northrop +had not in effect told young Strong he was quite good enough for her, +he might have remained her contented vassal for years. Six months of +being her nearest friend worked their result, to be sure; but the +humility they were gnawing at was of mediævally tough fibre, and of +twice six years’ growth. His depreciation of himself, however, had +only meant sense of distance from her; therefore, his sense of the +significance of her speech was enormous. He felt his relation to her +changed; he was shaken from all his moorings, and thrown into a mighty +agitation that possessed him night and day, and only grew with time. +For this was what it all came to: Was the distance between Winifred +and himself greater than the distance between her and any other man? +And when he had once thought that, the gate was open, and the +besieging host marched in and took possession of every corner of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span>him +with longing and desire and a madness of tenderness.</p> + +<p>He thought of nothing else. He wrote his editorials and set type under +an unceasing sense of it, as people have done brain-work and +finger-work to an accompaniment of unceasing physical pain. For there +was nothing joyous about it to him; it was all a bitter pain of mad +desire to be something to her—to secure her, somehow, before this +great, dark future swept her away from him. And yet the latter rains +came and went, the green faded from the ground, the mountains grew +dimmer and duller, and at last disappeared in the summer murk, before +he took in his own mind the next step—from lover to suitor, as before +from vassal to lover.</p> + +<p>He did so simply because he could not stand it any longer. It stood to +reason that there must be a way out of such active torments. And, +after all, why not he as well as any other man? It was absurd to +suppose that Winifred could ever be <i>in love</i> with any man, as a man +would be with her. It occurred to Will that the thing to do was +natural enough, after all—not to ask Winifred’s love, but to offer +her his. And he walked down to Mrs. Stutt’s to do it, one August +evening, a little before school opened after vacation. He was in good +spirits, too; to come to action and to speech, after so long +repression, was an inestimable relief. And she had been doubly +friendly to him all this time.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span></p><p>Mrs. Stutt was in her little strip of grass and oleanders. “That you, +Mr. Strong?” she called out cheerily as he lifted the gate-latch. +“Well, Miss Northrop’s in the sitting-room, I s’pose. You go right in, +and I’ll come in when I’ve done my watering.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you,” said Will, absently, and walked on into the house. +Winifred was not in the dark little sitting-room. He walked to the +open window and stood there, expecting her to come in presently. There +were veils of Madeira vine over the window, just opening their whitish +tassels of bloom, and the air was full of the smell of them. Mrs. +Stutt began to water the grass outside, and the shower of water from +her hose glimmered through the Madeira vine; the noise of the water +came to him, and the crying of crickets, and the smell of the freshly +wet earth. Then he heard a step on the porch, and saw Winifred go down +the short path to the gate. He could see by her white dress that she +stood still there; so he went out, too, to join her. Mrs. Stutt was +watering at the other side of the house now, and the two were alone.</p> + +<p>Will stopped a moment in the darkness and faint odor of a great +oleander, a few feet from the motionless girl at the gate, to realize +well the grace of her dim white figure, and her unconscious attitude. +She stood in a weary way, with her head a little fallen back, and her +hands hanging loosely clasped before her. There was so much and so +incomprehensible emotion in the attitude, that <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span>Will felt vaguely +thrust out into another world from that where her interests lay. She +had not heard him approach, for the train from the south was just +coming to a stand at the station, not a stone’s throw off, and there +was a great noise of jarring cars, and shouting men, and escaping +steam, and ringing bell. He waited till the noise should be quite +over. Some one came walking rapidly from the station; Will, glancing +at the dark figure, thought it had, even in this dimness, an +unfamiliar look. It paused close by the gate.</p> + +<p>“Winifred!”</p> + +<p>Will did not know the voice; the tone turned him blind and dizzy.</p> + +<p>Winifred started violently, and turned; she clasped her hands tightly, +and lifted them to her breast in a frightened way, as she fell back a +step.</p> + +<p>“Oh, my God!” she cried, under her breath. There was a rattle of the +gate-latch, a sharp flying open of the gate, and the stranger held her +in his arms.</p> + +<p>“My darling, my darling!” he said, with an infinite tenderness. “Did +you think you could hide anywhere in all this wide world where I +should not find you?”</p> + +<p>For just an instant she yielded to his clasp—then she drew back. “You +must not,” she said, softly, with unmistakable pain in her voice. “You +know that. I thought if I was utterly out of sight or hearing, you +would forget me, and <i>I</i> might—forget myself.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span></p><p>He broke in before she had fairly spoken. “You were mistaken, +Winifred; there was no one between us. O my foolish little hot-head! +if you had not been so headlong in your self-sacrifice—if you had +only waited till I came back—I could have showed you in ten minutes +that there was no place for it. Mollie is married to John Gates and is +very happy. And you and I—my little girl, how nearly our two lives +have been spoiled! Sweetheart,” he said, laughing with a shaky voice, +“I think I shall never dare let go of you again”—and he drew her back +to him.</p> + +<p>She hesitated—surrendered—clung to him with a long sobbing breath. +“Oh, I have wanted you so, I have <i>wanted</i> you so!” she cried. “Oh, +don’t be a dream and melt away this time!”</p> + +<p>Will Strong, standing close in the darkness of the oleander, acquiring +a life-long association with smell of Madeira vine and oleander and +wet earth, cry of crickets and noise of sprinkling water, gathered +himself together enough to creep away. He was <i>going</i> to realize it +pretty soon, he thought; he did not yet; it seemed likely to be beyond +endurance when he did. As he passed the door some one opened it, and +the lamp-light streamed about him; Winifred looked around and saw his +face for an instant, and then he had slipped away through a side gate.</p> + +<p>He walked out from town across miles of dark plain, until he came to +the empty channel of the stream by which they had sat in March. +Underfoot <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span>not a blade of grass or green thing; no stranger would have +believed that living thing had ever grown there. The flocks and herds +had long since gone to the mountain pastures. The dry channel between +shelvy banks of gravel showed white in the unclouded yet dull +starlight. The air was lifeless, and faintly tainted with smoke from +forest fires in the mountains.</p> + +<p>Will threw himself down on his face, clutching with his fingers at the +gritty dirt. He knew as surely then, looking forward to his life, as +he will know at the end looking back, that this would never be an +out-lived romance. Nor could he creep back into that temple of dreams +from which Winifred’s own hand had lured him—it had crumbled to dust +behind him. Nor was he like one who, losing a woman, loses only his +best pleasure and best ambition; she was the vital condition to every +pleasure, every ambition; losing her, he lost all. The realization +clutched him by this time like a tiger. There was not a living +creature within miles; a man might go down to primal depths, might +drop even the restraint of the human in outcries and struggles as free +as a tortured beast’s. It may be that solitude sees more such scenes +than a decently decorous world would like to think.</p> + +<p>Yet there was a sense upon him of some moral demand, some decision to +be made; and in time he began to try to collect himself for it. It +would seem as if there could hardly be a position that <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span>left less for +him to decide. There was no question of renouncing—he had never had +anything to renounce. Nevertheless, his instinct was correct in urging +him to a moral conflict and a momentous decision. The question was +simply whether he could pick up his life again, could find faith that +anything was worth living for; or whether life was to be a hollow +going through the forms—frustrated, purposeless, full of brooding +regret and jealousy, shame, and sense of wrong. But he could not drag +his bruised mind up to the question; he could not even think what it +was. He lifted himself up, stepped down into the dry channel, and +knelt on the white stones, obeying old association with the attitude; +laid his arms and head on a shelf of the bank, and let the stunned and +nerveless will lie passive, while the accumulated forces of years—of +generations—passion and pain and despair and love, shame and +bitterness and loyalty—trampled back and forth over him, fighting out +for him his battle.</p> + +<p>It was deathly, aggressively still; not an insect to chirp, not a tree +to rustle; only bare earth and sodden air. After a long time Will +raised his head and threw it back, looking up at the dull stars, while +his outstretched hands lay clasped before him; he began to breathe +more deeply. Not many minutes later he rose and walked homeward across +the dim, wide waste.</p> + +<p>It was afternoon of the next day when he stood at Mrs. Stutt’s door +again. Mrs. Stutt looked at <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span>him with the embarrassment of conscious +pity as she admitted him. People had been looking at him all day, on +the street and in the office, with the same embarrassment and pity. +Miss Northrop was packing, the good woman said; and, in an answer to +her call, Winifred came out from her room into the little +sitting-room. She, too, was evidently under agitation and +embarrassment. Will had no doubt, from his first sight of her face, +that she had seen and understood his haggard flight the evening +before. He was himself entirely calm, as he held out his hand with a +grave smile in silence.</p> + +<p>Winifred tried to speak naturally.</p> + +<p>“I had just sent a note to you, Will,” she said, as they sat down.</p> + +<p>“About the school, I suppose,” he answered, quietly. “You are going +away at once?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.” There she stopped, with her eyes downcast. She looked up to his +face and caught her breath to speak, stopped, and began again.</p> + +<p>“You have been very good to me all this year—” there she hesitated. +Her difficulty was to choose her words so as to ignore his secret, and +yet not part from him in a cold or inadequate way.</p> + +<p>He rose, and crossed over to her.</p> + +<p>“Winifred,” he said gently, “you are distressed on my account; and so +it is better that I should speak of what otherwise it would be better +to ignore. I want you to know that you have not harmed me.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span></p><p>She rose quickly at that, and they stood near together, with their +eyes fixed on each other’s; the fulness of expression in her face +seemed to take the place of answer. He went on steadily, speaking low:</p> + +<p>“I have thought it all over, and I find these two things stronger than +any pain that may have come to me. Winifred, I cannot do you this +wrong, to make you the instrument of evil to me. That is one of the +two things. And the other is that there is nothing to reproach any one +with; no one has done wrong; there is no cause for shame, or +resentment, or bitterness—only for clean pain. Pain is no great evil, +Winifred, when it is clean, no matter how sharp.”</p> + +<p>He smiled at her tranquilly enough as he spoke. In truth, he was not +unhappy at the moment. It is not during but after the parting +interview that the pinch comes. She answered him only with her deeply +attentive look, and he went on:</p> + +<p>“I did not come to those convictions; they came to me; or rather, they +were in me, and bore down all the other feelings. All the noisy +passions dropped away before them, and left just those clear voices in +my soul. They made all my love and loyalty work together, instead of +tearing me in opposite directions. For, see, Winifred, hasn’t it been +our moral faith for years that to do spiritual harm to another is the +greatest evil that can befall one, and to do him spiritual benefit, +the greatest good? All these years since we were in school <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span>together, +I have been proud to think that it could be only a good to you to have +me think of you as I have thought, because it was only a good to me. +And I will not be so disloyal now as to let my life be spoiled because +of you.”</p> + +<p>Winifred looked at him aghast. “All these years!” It was a revelation +intolerable at first shock to a woman that was no coquette.</p> + +<p>“I think it was all the time dimly in my mind what <i>your</i> last year +had been; at last I went out of my life and into yours. I want you to +understand that I do not think of it with bitterness, because I +entered so little into it; I realize, Winifred”—his voice broke from +its steadiness—“that you have been good, <i>good</i> in it all. If you had +not been—if you had trifled with me—I think I should be at the +bottom of the river to-day. But since no one has wronged me,” he went +on more quietly, “since nothing monstrous or unnatural has befallen +me, everything I believed in has the same claim on me as ever.</p> + +<p>“And I want you to know that you need not <i>mind</i> my love, Winifred.” +She dropped her eyes and stood mute. “It is something you may be +willing and glad to have without troubling yourself because you cannot +return it. For any pain that has happened, do not trouble yourself +about that either—if I don’t mind it, you needn’t,” he said, smiling +a little, with a certain manly sweetness quite new to him. “I find one +gains something <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span>in having no longer to struggle with pain and try to +keep her at arm’s length.”</p> + +<p>She looked up then, and cried out passionately. “O Will, Will, if only +there was anything in all this world I could do to make it up to you!”</p> + +<p>“There is nothing to make up,” he said. “I would rather have pain from +you than pleasure from any one else. But there <i>is</i> something that you +can do; this: not to feel my love a burden laid upon you, an annoyance +or trespass, an anxiety or self-reproach—or anything that will make +you want to get rid of it,” he finished, smiling again; “and to let me +give you all I wish, on the condition that I ask no return. And if, in +a few years, I should ask to come and live near you, and be good +friends—may I? It would be hard,” he urged, less quietly, “that I +should have to lose your friendship, when I ask nothing more. Would +you take away the crumbs from me, just because I have lost the loaf?”</p> + +<p>“Is that best, Will?” she began, anxious and hesitating. “Oh, I mean +for you. It isn’t <i>possible</i> that you can always—think of me—so. +There is no reason. If you do not see me—somebody else—”</p> + +<p>“Have I been seeing you these dozen years?” he said, very gently. “You +may trust me to know what is best for me. Why think—think a moment, +dear friend, and you will understand. You, of all people, <i>can</i> +understand the plane I want you to take me on.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span></p><p>Winifred’s eyes kindled and her face flushed. “I see. I <i>do</i> +understand. I can meet you on your own plane, and I can trust your +friendship and you. I am not afraid to have you come—after a year or +two.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you,” he said, shaken as he had not been.</p> + +<p>“It is because you are very noble that any good can come out of this +harm,” she went on, with an eloquent tremor in her voice. “I can see +that before very long I shall be, as you said, willing—glad—for so +great a gift—only always sorry for your sake. I am very grateful +<i>now</i>—I cannot tell you how great a thing I think it is—from such a +man as you.”</p> + +<p>They had both become embarrassed and shy now, and both stood silent to +recover their ease. “You leave by this evening’s train?” he asked in a +minute.</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“Then this is good-by.”</p> + +<p>“For a while.”</p> + +<p>They moved together to the door. As they reached it, Will turned and +held out his hand, with an attempt at a smile. They stood a few +moments with hands clasped. Winifred’s downcast eyes were filling.</p> + +<p>“Good-by, Winifred,” he said.</p> + +<p>“Good-by,” she answered, faintly. A minute later she had thrown +herself sobbing on her bed, and he was walking down the street.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span></p><p>He met Winifred’s lover, coming from the ticket-office—a gentleman +high-bred and handsome in every line, a scholar by his appearance, a +good man by his eyes, a good companion by his smile. There were all +those differences between him and Will that the young man had talked +of and Winifred in all sincerity had called nothing; and, moreover, +she would never in the world have loved him if there had not been. The +girl was an aristocrat after all, when it came to a question not of +friendship but love. And Will knew it; love is penetrating enough to +divine that much from scanty data. He looked at the stranger with a +sort of transferred reverence—what a king of men must he be whom +Winifred could crown! And if he did not look at him without a blinding +pang, it was, nevertheless, a test of the thoroughness of the night’s +work that there was neither bitterness nor aversion in it. Something, +that sense of having disarmed pain—not dodged nor outwitted it, but +disarmed it forever—must have been in Winkelried’s consciousness as +the spears pressed in.</p> + +<p>But, after all, it is <i>taking</i> the second place that costs—not being +there after it has been once sincerely and thoroughly accepted. Bunyan +knew long ago that it was easy walking in the Valley of Humiliation, +once you had come safely down.</p> + +<p>On the street an acquaintance met Strong and turned to walk beside +him. It was the man who would not trust Judge Garvey out of sight with +his baby’s silver mug.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span></p><p>“I was just going to your office,” he said. “It’s something very +important.” He spoke with a marked friendliness, and a transparently +covert sympathy. “You see,” he went on, confidentially, “we fellows +that have been against Garvey begin to think our minority’s about +over. The whole affair of Miss Northrop has hurt him. He was shabby +when first she came, about that Coakley business, and he’s been ugly +about her ever since in a sneaking sort of way. Such a lady, too! And +there’s a thing come out to-day—if you’ll excuse my speaking of it.” +He showed a certain embarrassment. “Uncle Billy Green gave it away +first—he knew, being postmaster—but Garvey’s been boasting of it +himself, too, in the bar-room. You know you used to write to a fellow +in the States, and haven’t written to him so much lately.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I know,” said Strong. The man caught a hint of what he did not +say in what he did.</p> + +<p>“Uncle Billy gives away any interesting point he gets in the +post-office,” he said, apologetically. “You knew that before, Strong. +Well, Garvey got out of him, too, that Miss Northrop didn’t have nor +write any letters; and he got it into his head she was hiding. Anybody +could see she wasn’t used to working for a living—”</p> + +<p>“Look here—”</p> + +<p>“Bless you, Strong, I sha’n’t say a word disrespectful to her. This is +something you’d ought to know. He just did up a ‘Clarion’ with some +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span>notice about the school in it, and her name marked, and sent it to +that fellow you used to write to; and he wrote on the margin: ‘Please +forward to Miss N.’s friends.’ He said in the bar-room, to-day, that +he didn’t know just what would come of it, but it stood to reason if +she was on the hide, it would damage her or you, somehow.”</p> + +<p>“It hasn’t, however,” said Strong. “But if <i>I</i> stayed round the +bar-room—”</p> + +<p>“Oh, we choked him off. I tell you, Strong, everybody thinks it was a +pretty dirty trick. The people don’t care so much about his big +tricks, but they won’t stand any such small ones. No money in it, +either—only spite! Well, the long and the short is—it’s only a few +weeks till convention; and if you’ll take hold now while they’re mad, +you can name your own man for Senate, and we’ll send you to Assembly.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t want to go to Assembly,” said Will, standing on his +office-step. “I’ll gladly do my best to defeat Garvey for Senate.”</p> + +<p>“Well, you just decide on your man, and bring him out in your next +paper and we’ll elect him. The people are strong for you just now. And +I should think you would look on going to Assembly as a sort of +duty—purify politics, you know.”</p> + +<p>“Well—I’ll think about it.” And young Strong walked into his shabby +office, stopped to give Jim directions, then went in behind his +screen, and sat down to write a proper editorial for beginning the +reform campaign.</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="HOW_OLD_WIGGINS_WORE_SHIP" id="HOW_OLD_WIGGINS_WORE_SHIP"></a>HOW OLD WIGGINS WORE SHIP.</h2> + +<h3>AN OLD SAILOR’S YARN.</h3> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">By Captain Roland T. Coffin.</span></p> + +<p class="center">⁂ <i>The World, N. Y., November, 1878.</i></p> + +<p style="float: left; font-size: 100%; line-height: 80%; margin-top: 0;">“</p><p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:2px;padding-bottom:1px;">W</span>ell, sir,” said the old sailor, “here we are ag’in. I ain’t been +round here much lately, and atwixt you and me, she’s put the ‘kybosh’ +onto it, holdin’ that comin’ round here and hystin’ are promotin’ of +rheumatics, which, as are well known, they come of long and various +exposures in all climates, to say nothin’ of watchin’ onto a damp dock +night arter night continual. But what’s the use? Everybody knows as a +quiet home are better than silver and fine gold, which it stands to +reason are to be obtained in two ways. Wimmin are like sailors in some +respects; whoever has anythin’ to do with ’em must either be saddled +and bridled, leastwise, or else booted and spurred. You’ve got to ride +’em, or else they’ll ride <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span>you. Bein’ a sailorman myself, it ain’t +likely as I’d say anythin’ ag’in ’em; but if the truth must be told, +I’ll say this—that while it’ll never do, not at no price, for to let +sailors git the upper hand, there’s many a man as has giv’ the helm +into the hands of his old woman and made a better v’yage thereby; and +I don’t mind sayin’, sir, that havin’ while follerin’ the water got +into the habit of allowin’ her for to be skipper in the house durin’ +my short stoppin’s on shore, it got for to be so much the custom, that +since comin’ home for a full due I ain’t never tried for to break away +from it; and though human natur’ is falliable, and she does make +mistakes, especially about the hystin’, on the whole, and by and +large, I judges I’ve been a gainer by it, as I believes at least eight +men out of ten would be if they took the hint accordin’ and went and +done likewise.</p> + +<p>“I don’t go for to say as she ever goes to go to say I ain’t a-goin’ +for to let you go there; but it are terrible aggrivokin’ when the +rheumatics twinges awful, and as it might be that this saw-mill don’t +want no more splinters laid onto it, to have her feelin’ly remark, +‘Well, if you will go round a-guzzlin’ ale with your swell friends and +a-leavin’ your lawful wife to home alone you must expect to pay for +it,’ whereas I know it are the dock and other causes long gone by; but +that knowledge don’t ease the pain a morsel, and the last time I were +that way tantalized I swore I wouldn’t come here no more. But whatever +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span>are the use? Man resolves and reresolves and then takes another +snifter, and so here I are, and bein’ as its cold, as so she sha’n’t +have no basis for her unfeelin’ remark about guzzlin’ ale, we’ll let +him make it hot rum, and arter the old receipt, neither economizin’ in +the rum or the sugar, but givin’ a fair drink for honest money.</p> + +<p>“Well, well (just mix another afore the glass cools off), to think how +the time goes. Here it are autumn ag’in, and in a few weeks ’twill be +winter. It reminds me (I’ll take one more, if you please, with one +lump less of sugar and the space in rum) that I’m gittin’ old, and I +feels it. My eyes ain’t so good and my legs ain’t so good, and I ain’t +so good all over. When I goes down to the dock my lantern are heavier +than it used to were, and the distance ain’t so short as it used to +seem from the dock to the house. Afore many years I’ll be put quietly +away, and though I’d prefer bein’ beautifully sewed up and launched +shipshape in blue water, with a hundred pound weight for to keep me +down, I s’poses it won’t make much difference, nohow. Anyhow, if I +lives as long as old Wiggins, I hopes I may go as well at the end. I +don’t think I ever told you about him, and if you’ll let him fill ’em +up ag’in—for it’s one of the vartues of hot rum that the more you +drinks the thirstier you gits—I’ll reel you the yarn right off.</p> + +<p>“Old Wiggins had been all his life into the Liverpool trade and had +got well fixed, so far as cash were consarned; and so when he came for +to <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span>be seventy or seventy-two years old he were persuaded for to knock +off for a full due and spend the balance of his life ashore. Goin’ up +to some place in Connecticut, he buys hisself a place there and +settles down. Well, for a time he were all right, a-fixin’ up his +house, a-buildin’ new barns and hen-coops and fences and the like, and +I’ve heerd tell that the house where he kep’ his pigs were better than +any dwellin’-house in that region, and the whole place were the wonder +of the country roundabout; but arter he had fixed his house all up +like a ship, with little staterooms all through the upper part of it, +and had got everythin’ inside and out in shipshape order, and there +weren’t nothin’ else he could think of for to do, he gits terribly +homesick and discontented, and times when he’d come to the city for to +collect his sheer of the profits of ships as he had a interest in, +he’d sit for hours on the wharf a-watchin’ the vessels on the river, +and it were like drawin’ teeth for to git him to leave and go up to +his home. His eyes had giv’ out sometime afore he quit the sea, and +his legs was shaky, so as he had to walk with a settin’ pole, and his +hand were tremblin’ and unsteady; but aloft he were still all right, +and his head were as clear as a bell.</p> + +<p>“Arter bein’ ashore a matter of seven year, he comes to town one day +to see a ship off what he had been in afore he quit, and in which he +had a half interest. The skipper of that ship, which her name were the +Vesuvius, he bein’ called Perkins, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span>in comin’ from the Custom House +arter clearin’, got athwart-hawse of a dray and were knocked down, the +wheels passin’ over his legs and breakin’ of ’em, and whatever do old +Wiggins do—the home-sickness bein’ strong onto him—but says to the +agents, ‘It are a pity for to lose a day’s fair wind; I’ll go aboard +and take her out myself;’ and, sure enough, he done it, never lettin’ +on to the folks at home, but leavin’ the agents to tell ’em arter he +were gone.</p> + +<p>“Into that ship I were shipped, she bein’ 830 tons or thereabout, with +three royal yards across, and loaded with flour and grain, there bein’ +sixteen of us afore the mast, with two mates, carpenter and cook, and +steward, leavin’ on the 16th of November, and, unless I’m mistakened, +in the year 1843.</p> + +<p>“We towed down to the Hook and out over the bar, and then put the +muslin on to her with a fine breeze from sou’west, and I supposes +there weren’t a happier man in the world than old Wiggins when he +discharged the pilot and steamer and took charge.</p> + +<p>“‘I’ve giv’ ’em the slip,’ says he to the mate. ‘I’ve giv’ ’em the +slip; they thought I were too old for to go to sea, but I’ll show ’em +thar’s plenty of life into me yet; git out all the starboard stunsails +and see to it that she’s kep’ a-movin’ night and day, for in sixteen +days I expects to walk the pierhead in Liverpool.’ Well, sure enough, +a-movin’ she were kep’, and I never seen harder <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span>carryin’s on than I +seen that passage; but we never lost a stitch of canvas, ’cause the +old man not only knowed how to carry it, but he knowed how to take it +off of her when it be to come off, and in a gale of wind he’d ’liven +up wonderful, whereas in light weather he’d show his age. It were +funny for to see him takin’ the sun and tryin’ to read her off, which +he weren’t able for to do, not by no means.</p> + +<p>“‘What d’ye stand on?’ he’d say to the mate arter screwin’ his eye to +the glass and tryin’ to make it out; and when the mate would tell him, +he’d say, ‘I believe that agrees with me; just take a squint at my +instrument; my eyesight ain’t just as good as it used for to be, and I +don’t quite make it out.’ Then the mate would read him off his +instrument, and arter he’d made it eight bells he’d go down and work +it up and prick her off. The fourteenth day out we made the light on +Fastnet Rock, off Cape Clear, and went bowlin’ along the coast, +passin’ Tuskar next day, and swingin’ her off up channel and round +Hollyhead past the Skerries and takin’ a pilot off P’int Lynas. It +were a sight worth seein’ for to watch the old man handle her in +takin’ a pilot. The wind were fresh from west-nor’west, and we passed +the Skerries with all three royals set and lower topmast and +to’gallan’ stunsails on the port side. As soon as ever we passed the +rocks we kep’ off for Lynas, and as soon as the stunsails got by the +lee they was hauled in. Then with the wind about two p’ints on the +starboard <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span>quarter we went bilin’ along for the boat which we seen +standin’ off shore just to the east’ard of the P’int. There were a +pretty bubble of a sea on, and afore we gits to him he goes about +standin’ in to the bay and givin’ sheet. We follers along arter him, +goin’ two feet to his one, still carryin’ all three royals, with hands +at halliards and clewlines. Just afore we gits to him the old man +sings out, ‘Clew up the royals, haul down the flyin’ jib, haul up the +crochick and mainsail.’ By this time we was well under the land and in +smooth water. Keepin’ his eye onto the pilot-boat, which were a couple +of p’ints onto our weather bow, the old man no sooner seen her come to +than he sings out, ‘Hard up the helm!’ And as we swung off afore the +wind we runned up the foresail and laid the head-yards square; then +mannin’ the port main braces we let the to’gallan’ yards run down on +the caps and let her come to ag’in, and so nicely had the old man +calculated the distance that as she come to the wind she shot up +alongside of the pilot-boat, stoppin’ just abreast of her and not over +twenty foot away.</p> + +<p>“‘That was well done, Mr. Mate,’ said the pilot, as he come over the +side; ‘some of these galoots makes us chase ’em half a day afore we +can board ’em. Fill away the head-yards, put your helm up, run up the +flyin’ jib, brail up the spanker check in the arter yards,’ and as she +swung off he comes aft to the wheel where I was a-steerin’, and says, +‘Keep her east-sou’east, my man; giv’ us a chew of terbacker.’ <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span>We +soon had the muslin piled onto her ag’in, and sure enough, as old +Wiggins had said, the sixteenth day out he walked the pierhead in +Liverpool.</p> + +<p>“I understood as old Wiggins was made a good deal on in Liverpool as +bein’ the oldest skipper that had ever come there, and the Board of +Trade and what not giv’ him dinners, and so on—which, considerin’ his +age, he oughtn’t to have took—and by other skippers at the hotel he +were much honored, bein’ giv’ the head of the table and treated with +great deference—and all this dinin’ and winin’ and feastin’ weren’t +no good to him—and, arter a stay of three weeks, when we ag’in went +down the river with full complement of passengers and a good freight, +he weren’t not by no means as well as when we went in. We had, too, a +tough time down channel, a stiff sou’wester, with rain and thick +weather, and it told onto the old man, so that when arter bein’ out a +week we at last got clear of Tuskar and had the ocean open, the relief +from the strain fetched him, and he were took down sick.</p> + +<p>“Whether it were to punish him for comin’ to sea at his time of life +or not I don’t know; but from this on we did have the devil’s own +weather. Gale after gale from the west’ard, shiftin’ constant from +sou’west to nor’west, and tryin’ constant to see from which quarter it +could blow the hardest.</p> + +<p>“The mate were a plucky and a able young feller, by the name of +Graham, and he kep’ her a-dancin’ <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span>as well as the old man would have +done. Constant she had everythin’ put to her that she’d bear, and +always were she kep’ on the tack where she’d make the most westin’, +and so she struggled along till we was as far as thirty degrees west, +we bein’ thirty days out and not yet half way. Every day we asked the +steward how old Wiggins were a-gittin’ on, and every day he’d shake +his head and say ‘no better;’ and it come to be understood, fore and +aft, that it were as much as a toss-up if the old man ever smelled +grass ag’in. We had a little let-up arter gittin’ into the thirties, +and for a day or so had fine weather and a chance to dry our dunnage. +Fine days, however, is scarce in January on that herrin’ pond—I’ll +take just another; mentionin’ herrin’s makes me dry—and when you gits +’em they are most always weather-breeders. I went up on to the main +royal yard when our side come up at 8 o’clock one mornin’ for to sew +on the leather on the parral, and it were like a day in May. Afore I +got the leather sewed on I be to look out for myself, ’cause they was +goin’ to clew up the sail, and from that time on it breezed on from +the sou’ard, keepin’ us constantly takin’ the sail off of her, till at +four bells we was under double-reefed topsails and reefed courses, +with jib, crochick, and spanker stowed. We hammered away under this, +carryin’ on very heavy, ’cause she were headin’ west-nor’west, which +were a good course, till eight bells in the arternoon watch, when the +sea gittin’ up so <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span>tremendiously we had to furl the reefed mainsail +and mizzen topsail and close reef the fore and main topsails.</p> + +<p>“You’d think that were snug enough for any ship, now, wouldn’t you? +and sartin it are; no ship ever ought to have less canvas than this, +till it blows away, ’cause she’s safer with it onto her than with it +off, the reefed foresail supportin’ the yard. Well, we’d had gales and +gales, but this here gale beat anythin’ that I’d ever seen, and at +seven bells in the first night watch, with a tremendious surge, the +weather leech rope of the foresail giv’ way, and in a jiffy away went +the foreyard in the slings—the foresail and fore-topsail goin’ into +ribbons. All hands, of course, was busy for’ard, tryin’ for to git +some of this wreck stuff tranquillized, when all of a suddint from the +poop come the old man’s voice, full and round and clear, and not +shrill and pipin’ as we’d heerd it last, and above all the roarin’ of +the gale and the din of the slattin’ canvas, we heerd him shout: +‘Stations for wearin’ ship. We must git her head round to the +sou’ard,’ he bawled in the ear of the mate, as Mr. Graham struggled +aft; ‘the shift will come in less than half a hour, and its goin’ to +be tremendious; if it catches us aback it won’t leave a stick into +her; but it ain’t a-goin’ to catch us, sir; I’ve brung her through +many and many a time like this. I’ll bring her through this one, and +then you must do the rest. Now, then,’ says he, ‘stand by, put your +helm just a few spokes a-weather, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span>don’t check her at all with the +rudder, slack a foot or two of the lee braces and check in to +wind’ard; keep your eye constant on that sail, Mr. Clark’—that were +the second mate—‘and don’t let it shake; keep it good full and give +her away; lay the crochick yard square, and come up to the +main-braces, all of you.’ And so, gently, as if she’d been a sick +child, he coaxed her to go off, and she begin to gather way. As soon +as she done so the helm were put hard up, and the main-yard rounded +in, just keepin’ the topsail alift, but not permittin’ it to shake. As +she went off till she got the sea on the quarter, a mighty wave came +a-rollin’ along, boardin’ us about the main riggin’, floodin’ the +decks and dashin’ out the starboard bulwarks. The minnit we got the +wind onto the starboard quarter we braced the main-yard sharp up with +the port-braces and bowsed the weather ones as taut as a harp string. +‘Now, then,’ says the old man, ‘never mind that trash for’ard, let +that go; git a jumper on to the main-yard and a preventer main-topsail +brace aloft; lay aloft for your lives, and clap preventer gaskets on +everythin’ that’s furled; we’ll have it soon from the north’ard fit to +take the masts out of her.’ He were right. In a short time there were +a instant’s lull, and then with a roar that were almost deafenin’ came +the cyclone from the north. Thanks to the old man’s sagacity and +experience, howsever, we was a-headin’ sou’-southeast when it hit us, +and it struck us right aft.</p> + +<p>“‘Steady as you go,’ shouts the old man, and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span>then, a minnit arter, as +she gathered way, he says ag’in to the mate, ‘We must let her come to, +Mr. Graham, we can’t run her in the teeth of the old s’utherly sea; +ease down the helm and let her smell of it.’ It was a powerful whiff +she took, for as she come to and felt the force of the wind, all three +to’gallan’ masts went short off at the cap, the main-topsail sheets +parted, and in an instant there wasn’t a piece of the sail left big +enough for a lady’s handkerchief.</p> + +<p>“‘That’s all it can do,’ said the old man to the mate, bitterly; ‘git +this trash on deck as soon as possible, and git her a-waggin’ once +more; I’ve brung her through it safe, and am goin’ home,’ and with +that he dropped onto the poop as dead as mutton. He had come on deck +bare-headed and with nothin’ on but his drawers and shirt, just as he +had laid in his bunk for a fortnight, and the exposure had carried him +off. However, he knowed that the shift were so near nobody ever could +tell. There were no doubt, however, but that his gittin’ her weared +round were our salvation. If that gust had a-struck us aback our masts +would have gone sartin, and it’s a toss-up but what we’d a-gone down +starn fust afore she’d a-backed round. Next day we giv’ old Wiggins a +funeral fit for the Emperor of Rooshy, and he well desarved it. I +don’t know as ever I seen a prettier sew-up than we done on him, +wrappin’ him first in the American ensign and then kiverin’ him with +brand-new No. 4 canvas. Considerin’ the sails we’d lost and how <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span>much +we needed the canvas, I think he must have been satisfied that we done +the handsome thing by him. The day was beautiful and clear, although +the wind still blowed a gale. We hadn’t been able to do much with the +wreck stuff, except git lashin’s onto it for to keep it from swingin’ +about, and we hadn’t dared for to try for to send up another +main-topsail. We had set the reefed mainsail for to steady her, and +that were all. The three to’gallan’ masts was still a-hangin’ over the +side, and the ribbons of the foresail and fore-topsail was still +a-flutterin’ in the breeze, when at eight bells, at midday, all hands +was called for to bury the dead. Everythin’ that we had in the way of +nice clothes we had put on for to do honor to our captain, and most of +us was able to sport white shirts and broadcloth. We laid the old man +onto a plank and kivered him with the union jack, and all hands +gathered round him, while Mr. Graham read the sarvice. Everythin’ went +lovely, and just at the proper time we tilted the plank, and he +slipped off without a hitch of any kind. Arter the mate finished the +readin’, he said, ‘Men, there’s a good man gone arter a long life of +great usefulness. He were a sailor and a gentleman. I don’t think as +we ought for to cry over sich a man, and I propose we giv’ him three +cheers and God bless him’; and heartier cheers was never giv’ than we +giv’ that day, arter which all hands got dinner.”</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="mdashMAS_HAS_COME" id="mdashMAS_HAS_COME"></a>“——MAS HAS COME.”</h2> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">By Leonard Kip.</span></p> + +<p class="center">⁂ <i>Overland Monthly, January, 1870.</i></p> + +<p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:2px;padding-bottom:1px;">I</span>t was called Beacon Ledge fully fifty years before the present +lighthouse had been built upon it. For it was said that long ago, when +wrecking was a profitable trade along the coast, and goodly vessels +were frequently, by false lights, decoyed to their destruction, there +was no more favorable point for the exercise of that systematic +villainy than this rocky, high-lifted bluff. Projecting three or four +hundred feet into the sea, with a gradually curved, sweeping line, it +formed, to be sure, upon the one side, a limited anchorage—safe +enough for those who knew it; but, upon the other side, it looked upon +a waste of shoal, dotted, here and there, at lowest tide, with craggy +breakers, and, at high water, smooth, smiling, and deceitful, with the +covered dangers. Here, then, upon certain dark and stormy nights, the +flaming beacon of destruction <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span>would glow brightly against the black +sky, and wildly lighten up the cruel faces of those who stood by and +piled on the fagots, while gazing eagerly out to sea to mark the +effect of their evil machinations. Nor was it until some thirty years +ago that the gangs of wretches were thoroughly broken up, and this, +their favorite vantage-ground, wrested from them, and the tall, white +lighthouse there securely founded—maintaining in mercy what had +before been held as a blighting curse; lifting itself, like a nation’s +warning finger, and with its calm, serene glow, pointing out the path +of safety. Then, in the mouths of all the surrounding inhabitants, +Beacon Ledge became known as Beacon Ledge Beacon, and so kept its +name, in spite of tautological criticism, or of different and more +formal christening, by Government authority.</p> + +<p>Still, there hung around the place the memories or traditions of past +violence, shipwreck, and murder—partly true, perhaps, but, doubtless, +generally false, having only a few grains of fact or probability +mingled with all kinds of distorted fictions—the deeds of pirates +being supplemented to those of mere wreckers; the imaginations of +fishermen along the coast ever inventing plenteous horrors, and wild +tales of buccaneering rovers, originally written for other localities, +being now wilfully adopted and here located, until, at last, there was +hardly a known crime which could not find its origin or counterpart at +Beacon Ledge, and the whole neighboring shore became a melancholy +storehouse of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span>terrors, disaster, and distress. These tales being +discovered to be very pleasing to most strangers, were carefully +cultivated and enlarged upon by each interested denizen of the place; +and to me, also, for awhile, they had a peculiar charm. I seldom grew +tired of hearing some grizzled, tar-incrusted fisherman reel off his +tissue of improbable abominations. For awhile, I say, since there +came, at last, a day when I cared no longer for such bloody +traditions, forgot the shadowy horrors that flitted about the spot, +and only thought and cared for it as the place where I had met and +loved dear little Jessie Barkstead.</p> + +<p>She was the only child of the lighthouse keeper. In a worldly point of +view, therefore, was it wisely done that I should have set my +affections upon her? Possibly not; and it is likely that, had I known +the weakness of my mind, I would have shunned the danger from the very +first. But I was gay and reckless in my poor self-complacency and +deceitful assurance of inner strength; and long before I had fairly +realized how rapidly I was drifting, I found myself whirling down the +swift current, and was lost. Nor was it a marvel that this should have +so happened. To one who sits aloof in his unromantic, distant home, it +is an easy thing, indeed, to moralize about matters of inferior +station and <i>mésalliance</i>; but I believe that few could have seen +little Jessie, as she first appeared to me, and not have felt some +secret inclination to give way before those subtile charms of beauty +and manner <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span>which invested her. Moreover, let it here be mentioned +that she was not at all of humble birth or education. Old Barkstead +was himself a gentleman by culture and station, and had once been the +master of a gallant ship. In that important position he had been for +many years a pleasant and popular officer; but at length, in an evil +day, through some temporary weakness or neglect, he had lost his +charge, and almost ruined his employers. The world—with what degree +of truth cannot now be told—had charged the loss upon intoxication. A +storm of obloquy and reproach arose. The man, bowed down with +self-abasement and sensitiveness, had yielded to the blast, and +attempted no defence; and, after awhile, obtaining, through some +friendly influence, the custody of the Beacon Light, he had fled, with +his child, to that obscurity, leaving no trace behind him, and caring +only to pass the rest of his life in the quiet of the world’s +forgetfulness.</p> + +<p>I was myself the occasional tenant of a lighthouse, for, during a few +weeks of the summer, I had been visiting the Penguin Light, some four +or five miles distant up the coast. It was a tall and far-reaching +structure, standing upon a jutting point of rock—almost the duplicate +of the Beacon Ledge; the two lights glimmering at each other across +the little bay between, and only to be distinguished apart at night by +the different periods of their revolutions. Penguin Light was in the +keeping of old Barry Somers, a long-known and valued sailor-friend of +mine, who, in past days, had taught me to swim, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span>and sail a boat, and +now seemed to regard his office more for the opportunity it gave of +entertaining me than for its actual salaried value. Thither, +therefore, I would often repair during the summer months, avoiding the +usual crowded haunts, and giving preference to old Barry’s pleasant +talk and my solitary rambles along the shore; occasionally running out +to sea, that I might speak friendly pilots cruising in the distance; +and now and then, by way of change and innocent attempt at usefulness, +taking my turn at keeping up and watching over the safety of the +lantern-lamps.</p> + +<p>It was during one of my lonely wanderings along the beach, when, with +gun in hand, I made feeble and unsuccessful attempts against the lives +of the merry little sand-pipers, that I first saw Jessie. She sat upon +a rock, and was gazing out at sea. In her hand was a book, which she +was not reading—who, indeed, could read collectedly, with that fresh +breeze lifting such a pleasant array of dancing white-caps, and +rolling inward those strong bodies of surf, which broke upon the shore +with the ring of sportive Titans? Her handkerchief had fallen off her +head, and her curls were flying wantonly in the breeze. I did not, for +the moment, dream that she had any connection with the lighthouse, but +rather that she was a chance city visitor at some inland +country-house; and so I passed on, not venturing to speak with her. +So, also, the next day, and the next—finding her always there when I +passed, as though that particular hollow in the rock was her <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span>own +especial, allotted refuge-place. At last, gaining courage from those +frequent meetings, and, perhaps, from the half smile with which she +began to greet my coming, I addressed her; and so the few words of +salutation gradually lengthened into conversation, and, before we were +well conscious of the fact, had ripened into terms of intimacy.</p> + +<p>How swiftly such matters sometimes proceed, when removed from the +stiffness and ceremony of city life! A week only had passed, and I +began to find that all my walks led in that one direction. Jessie was +always at her place, with the uncompleted book in her hands; and I, +going no farther, would seat myself beside her, throw down my useless +gun, let the poor sand-pipers go undismayed, and so prepare for the +comfortable, pleasant conversation of the morning. It was no +unattractive pastime, indeed, to dispose the dry sea-weed for her +seat; and then, placing my head upon another pile, remain half +reclined at her feet, listening to her lively talk, and pretending to +look out upon the blue waves, when, all the while, I was stealthily +gazing into the deeper blue of her eyes. Nor, when I heard her +story—or, so much of it as at first she deigned to tell me—did I +hold her in less respect. The daughter of the lighthouse, indeed! Why, +truly, this should matter nothing at all to me. What interest could I +have in her past or present associations, or how could they, in any +way, detract from her own native grace and loveliness? Were her eyes +less bright, or was her conversation less <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span>cheery, or were her +attitudes less picturesque and pleasing, because old Captain +Barkstead, instead of still sailing a fleet merchantman, now mopingly +cleaned his reflectors, and, when strangers came, hid himself in the +lantern? Moreover, had she not brought with her from her former home, +wherever that might be, a wit, and intellect, and intelligence which +might adorn any position? What more could be needful in promotion of a +quiet sea-side flirtation? In a week or ten days I should go away, and +no longer see her. I should carry off with me the memories of a very +pleasant face, that had always brightened up whenever I came near; and +then, as, after awhile, new forms and scenes came between, I would, of +course, forget her. For a time, she might possibly look out longingly +after my return, and, finding that I did not come back, might—well, +not exactly lose memory of me, I hoped. It was to be desired, perhaps, +that a few thoughts of me would always tinge her future life, I argued +with something of man’s selfishness. I would not, indeed, that she +should make herself miserable about me; but if, when her face had +faded from my thoughts, some little record of myself should pleasantly +remain with her, and now and then bring a transitory pang of musing +regret, who should say nay?</p> + +<p>Therefore, in time, I went away. I did not steal off without farewell. +That would have been but sorry recompense for the many cheery hours +she had given me. But, taking her hand in mine, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span>I gave to her my +heartfelt thanks for all the pleasant past, and my cordial wishes for +the future. I did not know that I should ever meet her again, I said. +I hoped, however, that she would not too soon forget me. It was in my +heart to utter more tender and sentimental words than I had any right +to use, but I repressed the inclination. I cherished, too a secret +hope that she would show some sorrow for my departure; but, if she +felt any at all, she did not allow her expression, or her color, to +betray her. With quiet self-possession, yet with a certain interest, +too—as when one gives up a pleasant, valued friend—she bade me +adieu; and so, lifting from her feet the ever-harmless gun, I passed +away, round the border of the little bay, and returned to the city.</p> + +<p>There, however, somewhat to my surprise, I failed to forget her; and +wherever I went, the image of that light, graceful form, seated upon +the rock, began to obtrude itself upon my thoughts. Of course, it was +only a fleeting impression, I reasoned with myself, and would soon +disappear again, as newer scenes and faces forced themselves upon me; +and I plunged rather more wildly than usual into society. But the +proposed remedy did not have its due effect. In fact, it happened that +the routine of gayety and formality seemed, by contrast, to aid the +former impressions, making them seem more real and life-like than +ever. It could not be that I was falling in love! But yet I could not +fail to confess a strange interest; and, while <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span>knowing that I was in +danger, was content to let myself drift whither the current might +carry me.</p> + +<p>“I will see her once more. There was something I forgot to tell her +when we parted last,” I said to myself, trying in vain to establish +and believe in a transparent self-deceit. “It was about a book, or +something. It weighs upon my mind that she should deem me neglectful +of her wishes. Once more, therefore, and then—”</p> + +<p>“Where away, so late in the autumn?” inquired a friend, who saw me +starting out.</p> + +<p>“Down the bay, blue-fishing!” I exclaimed. “Just the real time for +it.”</p> + +<p>“Ah? Well, good-by, then! Rather too cold sport for me, though!”</p> + +<p>Therefore, I saw Jessie again—and yet again after that. Why should I +not confess it?—or, after what I have already told, what is there +left for me to confess, at all? For now, at last, I began to +acknowledge to myself that it was not mere friendship or esteem I +felt, but, rather, the more overpowering passion of real love. Gone, +like a thin veil of vapor, were all my sophistries about a limited +Platonic interest; my dread of incongruous association; my resolves +against possible rashnesses; my fear of the world or its senseless +gossip; my prudence, or my self-restraint! These all seemed to vanish +in a day; and, yielding myself, slavishly, a willing captive to bright +eyes and silvery tones, upon one fine morning I passed the Rubicon of +safety, and offered her my hand <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span>and heart. But, to my sore dismay, +she only softly shook her head.</p> + +<p>“You do not love me, then?” I murmured. I spoke not merely with sorrow +and disappointment, but with something of wounded pride—feeling +mortified that she had not at once accepted my devotion. Certainly, it +had seemed to me, all along, that I was not disagreeable to her; and +there was no doubt that in her manner, at least, she had always +cordially welcomed my approach, and taken pleasure in my company.</p> + +<p>“I do not know—I hardly yet can tell!” she faintly said, drawing her +hand from mine. “To me, you are my best and dearest friend; perhaps, +the only one whom I can really call my friend. I know how glad I +always feel when you come hither; how lonely I am while you stay away. +But this I do not think is love—the real, true love which I should +wish to feel.”</p> + +<p>“But can it never be?” I pleaded.</p> + +<p>“How can I tell? It might come to that, at last; and yet—” She +ceased, and there came over her face a strange, dead look at the sea +before her—a straining gaze, as though she would fix her eyes far +beyond, in another hemisphere, oblivious of the present.</p> + +<p>“Yet tell me, Jessie, have I a rival? This, at least, you might let me +know. I will not go further, nor will I ask his name.”</p> + +<p>For a moment she did not answer: still sitting, with that strange, +rapt, straining gaze, and with <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span>an unconscious, mechanical motion, +rolling the little sand pebbles down the side of the rock.</p> + +<p>“There was one,” she said, at length. “I hardly know how to tell you +about it. I believe that I cared for him, and yet I never told him so; +nor did he ever tell me that he loved or cared for me, and yet, at the +time, I thought that he did. It was some time ago—a very long time, +it often seems to me; nor do I suppose that he and I will ever meet +again. And now you know almost as much about it as I do myself,” she +continued, turning more fully toward me. “Or what more can I say? +There was no pledge given on either side—no uttered words—and, of +course, it has all gone by. But now and then, when I think about it, I +feel regret; and it seems to me as though it were a different and +stronger feeling than that which I have for you. Whether I am mistaken +in my feelings, or how or what I really think, perhaps I cannot well +tell; I am only a simple girl, after all, and know so very little +about love, or what love truly is.”</p> + +<p>“Yet, Jessie dear,” I pleaded, “if you look upon that old matter as +buried and gone—which, doubtless, it must be—why think longer about +it, instead of turning to the new and truer affection which now I +offer you? Believe me, you are letting your mind dwell merely upon a +dream of the past—one of those vain fancies of girlhood, which, +though for the time they may control the mind, have no real, vital +activity or force.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span></p><p>“It may be so,” she said, in a sort of saddened, half-regretful tone. +“Indeed, it must be so; and it might be that when the influence has +passed away, I may find that I have cared for you better than I have +imagined. I know that, even now, you seem dear to me as a friend, and +that you are kind to me, making me always happy at your coming; yet, +at the same time, I think that there is something wanting in it +all—something which is not love. You see that I am very plain with +you. Better, then, to leave me; is it not so? For I cannot now give +you my heart; nor do I know whether, in the future, I can better do +so; and it is not right that I should keep you at my side, hoping or +expecting what, after all, may never come.”</p> + +<p>“Nay, I will not leave you for all that, my Jessie,” I said, +impulsively. “I will still remain at your side, and trust even to the +mere chance that, at some future period, you may relent.”</p> + +<p>Therefore, dropping the subject for that time, I remained, and sought, +by new kindnesses and attentions, to win some final increase of her +favor toward me, but feeling, at the same time, a little sore and +angry with myself. For, how wretchedly was I now maintaining that +proper independence of spirit, which I had always insisted even the +most blinded and devoted of lovers should feel! Had it not been my +cherished theory that no man should surrender his freedom of heart +without obtaining in return the utmost, unlimited, and unselfish +devotion? Yet, here I was giving up my <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span>whole soul to a blind passion, +rendered more and more absorbing, doubtless, by the opposition I +experienced, and for response I found myself willing to be content +with even the cinders of a former and only half-dead affection; +trusting, as so many men have vainly trusted, that by earnest care and +assiduity, I might, at last, re-illume the fading spark, and make its +new brightness glow for me.</p> + +<p>So passed the autumn, during which I made frequent journeys between +coast and city; striving, at times, with the cares of business to +drive her image from my mind, and finding myself continually drawn +back again to that quiet nook which, gifted with her presence, had +become to me the brightest and only happy spot on earth. These +frequent departures, so contrary to my usual habit, soon began to +excite the inquiries and surmises of my friends. Fishing and shooting +protracted into the season so far as almost to touch the edge of the +winter, no longer served as satisfactory excuses for my absences; and +there were some among my friends, who, in their speculations, came +very near the truth, and hinted suspicions of some rustic passion. But +still, turning off their insinuations with a laugh, I kept my +secret—holding it the more carefully and earnestly, as I now began to +see hope dawning for me in the future.</p> + +<p>For now, at last, it seemed as if I was about to prosper in my suit. +Each time that I came, Jessie appeared yet more pleased to see +me—more willing <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span>to give me that attractive confidence which can only +exist in full perfection between acknowledged lovers; less disposed to +analyze her mind’s emotion with any critical severity, or speculate +whether this or that feeling had, or had not, passed the line between +friendship and love; more ready, at times, to surrender the struggle +and self-examination, confess herself vanquished, and yield up her +whole heart to my keeping. But not quite yet.</p> + +<p>“A little longer,” she pleaded. “Let me feel somewhat more sure of +myself before—”</p> + +<p>“And how much longer, then, Jessie?”</p> + +<p>“Till Christmas, George. When Christmas comes, I will either be all +your own, or will send you away forever. Will not that do?”</p> + +<p>“It must, perforce, if I cannot gain better terms,” I answered; and I +returned once more to my city life. It was my fixed intention to +remain there resolutely until the Christmas morning itself had come; +but at last, unable to maintain the suspense, I stole back to the +beach once more. It was now only two days from the time. The air was +colder, of course, so that Jessie no longer took her place outside +upon the rock; but we could sit and talk in the shelter of the +lighthouse door, undisturbed by old Barkstead, who usually fretted and +moped out of sight, about half way up the shaft.</p> + +<p>“Only two days more, dear Jessie,” I said, “and then— Will it be well +with me, do you think?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span></p><p>“I think—I begin to think it will be well,” she said, looking away.</p> + +<p>“Then, if so you think, why should you longer delay your choice?” I +pleaded.</p> + +<p>“Nay, George, it is only two days more. Let it, then, remain as first +we said, and we shall be the better satisfied at having held out to +the proper end.”</p> + +<p>Gaining nothing more from her, but feeling, in my own mind, well +assured of ultimate success, I prepared to depart. Not to return to +the city, indeed, for that would scarcely be worth while for such a +little interval—but to the Penguin Light, where Barry Somers, as +usual, had a place ready for me. But, as I was leaving, a sudden idea +struck me—a wild, foolish fancy, it might be—yet, coming, as it did, +with a certain investiture of originality, it fastened itself firmly +and tenaciously upon me, and with animation I returned upon my steps.</p> + +<p>“Listen, dear Jessie!” I said. “Until Christmas morning, therefore, I +will not see you again, for I do not wish thus vainly to renew my +pleadings, and it will be pleasanter to know that when I meet you once +more, it will be with sweet confession on your lips, and the +permission to look upon you thenceforward as my own. But still, while +we are thus separated, can we not commune together?”</p> + +<p>“How, George?”</p> + +<p>“With the lights, dear Jessie. See here, now! <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span>Mark how easily we can +arrange our signalling, so that, across the intervening miles, we can +flash our secret intelligence, and no one but ourselves be the wiser! +Look!—I will now write you out some signs, and with them, at night, +we will hold our intercourse. This very evening I will control the +lamps at Penguin Light, and you shall read what I will therewith tell +you. To-morrow you will answer me from here; and I, in turn, will +decipher your sweet words. Will not that be a rare, as well as +pleasant correspondence?”</p> + +<p>At the suggestion, her eyes brightened up with animated excitement, +and at once she prepared to second my plan. How, indeed, could a young +girl help approving of such a novel conception? To talk with +beacon-lights across five miles of foaming, heaving waters, when all +around was dark and dreary!—to flash from one sympathetic heart to +another the glowing signals of intelligence comprehended by no other +persons!—would not that be an achievement which would not only give +pleasure in the actual present performance of it, but also in the +recollection of it throughout future years? So, sitting down again, +she eagerly listened to me, while I, drawing a paper from my pocket, +noted down the requisite tokens, something after the usual signs +employed in ordinary telegraphy—short and simple—and left them in +her possession. I saw at once that she comprehended the principle; so, +feeling no doubt that she would well perform <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span>her part, I departed, +reading, in her pleased consciousness of sharing that novel secret +with me, such probable indications of affection, that, for the moment, +I could scarcely resist once more throwing myself upon her pity, and +asking instant assurance of my happiness.</p> + +<p>But I forbore. Were I now to win her, in anticipation of that +predetermined Christmas-day, might it not take something from the zest +of the coming midnight correspondence?</p> + +<p>So, controlling myself, I returned to Penguin Light. I had been a +little troubled with the idea that, perhaps, I might not be able to +manage the matter, after all; but, almost to my joy, I found old Barry +complaining of his rheumatism, hobbling about, and looking wrathfully +up the winding stairs, in surly deprecation of his approaching ascent. +Upon which I seized the favorable opportunity, and, while relieving +him, forwarded my own views.</p> + +<p>“Let it alone for this night, Barry. Do you stay down here and make +yourself comfortable, and I will keep watch in the lantern, and tend +the lights.”</p> + +<p>“And can you keep awake, Georgy, my boy, do you think?”</p> + +<p>“Of course I can, Barry.”</p> + +<p>Whereupon, for sole answer, Barry stumped away into the closet +below—which he called his room—laid himself carefully away upon his +old blankets, and I mounted to the lantern. There—the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span>hour of +sundown having come—I lighted the lamps, and awaited my time. That +was still some hours off; I was to do nothing until midnight. +Meanwhile, I laid myself down to take a nap. I had promised +watchfulness, but it was hardly necessary in the beginning of the +night. The wicks were then fresh, and it was not likely that any +accident could happen. It was only toward the end of the night, when +the wicks might become incrusted or the reflectors dimmed, that +especial care was needed.</p> + +<p>I awoke again about midnight, the hour appointed for the commencement +of my feat. The sky had clouded over, and not a star was to be seen. +All the better, indeed, for the experiment; for now there was no light +to be seen in any direction, except where down the coast glimmered the +Beacon Ledge Beacon—now faintly coming around the side, then glowing +for a second like the mouth of a distant furnace, as its full focus of +reflectors was pointed directly at me, then fading away, and so, for +an instant, entirely disappearing, as it turned slowly toward the +south. With the thick bank of clouds had come a cold wind from the +north, premonitory of an approaching storm, though it might be days +before it reached us—the only change to be now noted being the +somewhat heavier swell of the surf, rolling up with a dull, sullen +roar along the curve of the rock-bound shore.</p> + +<p>I prepared for action. As I sat in the lantern, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span>the great brazen +frame of polished reflectors swung around, once in each minute, within +a few inches of the side. Beneath was the projecting handle of a +crank, or lever, by pressing upon which the revolution could be +instantly arrested. Stooping down, I could sit at ease, with my head +clear from any contact with the lamps, and in that position could have +the lever-handle within easy reach.</p> + +<p>Waiting for a moment until the reflectors pointed directly toward +Beacon Ledge, I pressed upon the crank, and thereby suspended the +revolution. Thus inert and motionless I held the machinery for a full +minute, and then, lifting the rod, allowed the circuit to recommence, +and gazed anxiously toward the other lighthouse. For a moment, no +response; but then, as its reflectors came slowly around and pointed +toward me, they, too, ceased in their motion for a full minute. With +that my heart exulted. My signal for conversation had been seen and +answered. So far, all went satisfactorily, and there was nothing left +but to commence the main business of the night.</p> + +<p>What should I talk to Jessie about? I could not frame any lengthy +sentences, indeed—for that, time and patience would not suffice. Nor +could I tell her any especial piece of news: all such matters had +already been discussed between us. Nor did it seem any thing but +ridiculous to repeat, in such a labored manner, any of the ordinary +commonplaces about health, or the time, or weather. The most I could +do, in fact, would be <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span>to telegraph some short and simple idea, +expressive of my affection for her, and of my ardent faith in its +coming realization. This she would comprehend, and, like a proverb, it +would tell, in brief, a whole long story.</p> + +<p>Watching until the reflectors again came round, I seized the lever, +held the machinery in suspense for a whole minute, and then set it +free again. Another circuit, and this time I arrested the motion for +only fifteen seconds. A third, and here again a suspension of a whole +minute. In this way, by putting the three circuits together, I had +contrived to spell out the letter C—as in a telegraph office the +operator would write a letter, though probably not the same one, with +a long, a short, and a long scratch upon the paper slip.</p> + +<p>Again: and now I let the reflectors remain stationary, first, for a +minute, then twice for fifteen seconds each. This—a long, and two +short arrestations—spelled the letter H. So, little by little, I +wrote out with the lighthouse flash against the dark sky the simple +sentence,</p> + +<p class="center">“<i>Christmas is coming.</i>”</p> + +<p>It was plain and expressive. It spoke to Jessie of the approaching +day, when she should make her long-deferred decision, and when I so +ardently anticipated that she would be mine. It reminded her that the +time was now only a few hours distant. It told her that even those few +hours were almost <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span>too long for me to wait. It was a short message, +indeed, but the difficulty of thus spelling it out, letter by letter, +made it long enough. Already, ere I had finished, my arm, as well as +my attention, was fatigued; and when, at last, I made the long signal +of conclusion, and gained, in reply, the token that I had been +comprehended, I felt that I had done enough for one night, at least.</p> + +<p>Then, remaining awake, with some difficulty, until morning came, I put +out the lights, and went down to see after old Barry. He was better; +his rheumatism had not troubled him as much as he had feared; he would +get up, and himself trim the lights for the coming night, and I had +better lie down and rest. Which I gladly did, for I was tired, indeed, +and began to have a suspicion that, though lighthouse telegraphy might +be a pleasant excitement for once, it was inferior, as a steady means +of communication, to the regularly established mails. So, I slept the +sleep of the weary, if not of the just; and the morning was far +advanced when I awoke.</p> + +<p>The new day was not stormy, as I had partly anticipated it would be, +nor yet was it clear and beautiful. The gale seemed slowly coming on, +but had not quite reached us. The sky was thick with scudding clouds, +racing wildly from north to south; the air was cold and cheerless; the +sea rolled in with a more powerful swell than usual, breaking along +the shore with a boom like that of heavy artillery. The gulls flew to +and fro, screaming <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span>and unsettled; a few coasting schooners, +apprehensive of mischief, had put into the land-locked bay and there +lay at anchor, awaiting better weather; and in one place, the +fishermen were dragging their boats away back to the foot of the +bluff, so as to avoid the still heavier swell which must erelong come. +Yet, for all that, the storm had not commenced, and I could easily +have walked over to Beacon Ledge and made my daily visit.</p> + +<p>But still I forbore. I had already told Jessie that I should not see +her again until I came to hear the decision of my fate, and I resolved +that I would be firm. Would it not, beside, spoil the whole romance of +our midnight correspondence were I to visit her again so soon? I had +signalled a greeting to her. What a lowering of sentiment it would be +if now I were to obtain her response in commonplace manner, by mere +word of mouth, instead of by the bright sheen of the lighthouse +itself! Nay, that would never do. So, killing the heavy hours as best +I could, I loitered up and down the beach, shooting at the gulls as +ineffectually as I had before shot at the sand-pipers; watching the +course of a few frightened vessels, which still continued to make for +that little harbor of refuge; and, like a child, making sand-forts on +the beach, for the pleasure of seeing them washed away again by the +next heavy swell.</p> + +<p>Night came at last; and, as before, I volunteered to relieve Barry of +the care of the lamps, and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span>allow him additional opportunity to nurse +his rheumatism. As before, he made some feeble show of hesitation, by +way of reconciling his mind to the proffered rest, and then readily +succumbed.</p> + +<p>“Be it so, Georgy, my boy,” he said. “That is, if you are not already +too tired. But I don’t feel as bad now as last night, and may yet +crawl up and relieve you.”</p> + +<p>“Take it easy, Barry,” I said. “It is not much trouble for me. I could +stand it this fashion for a week.”</p> + +<p>With that I left him alone in his snuggery, and climbed the stairs to +the top. As upon the previous evening, I lighted the lamps, set the +machine in motion, and then curled myself down in a corner of the +floor to rest till midnight. I did not at once fall asleep, however. +The gale, which had been preparing for the last thirty hours, now +began to come in force, disturbing me with the sound of the +wind—whistling shrilly through every crack and crevice—while the +lighthouse itself constantly trembled with the blast. Even at that +height, I could hear the sullen dash of the breakers against the +shore; and once I could see, by the tremulous movement of lights far +out to the eastward, that a large steamer was passing, and was +laboring toilsomely with a more than usually heavy sea. She was in no +danger, however, and gradually passed away from my line of vision. +Then, at last, I fell asleep, though not into the soft, quiet slumber +which I usually enjoyed. Even in my dreams the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span>tempest followed me, +filling my mind with distorted imaginings. The old stories, which I +had so often heard and of late had forgotten, about pirates, and +wrecks, and wreckers, and cruelties perpetrated upon the beach, now +seemed to take actual life and reality. I could see the dismasted +vessels struggling among the breakers, and the rows of hard, fierce, +expectant faces lining the shore, and awaiting the turning up of the +dead bodies. I was a dead body myself, even, and was being washed up +on the beach, already drowned beyond hope of resuscitation, and yet +strangely conscious of all that went on around me. A hand was placed +roughly upon me, as I lay motionless upon the sand. Then, gaining new +life, I cried aloud, and, waking, found old Barry leaning over me, and +shaking me into consciousness.</p> + +<p>“Look over yonder, Georgy, my boy, at the Beacon Point,” he said. “See +how strangely the lights are acting. What do you make of it all?”</p> + +<p>I looked, and saw that the reflectors were pointing, motionless, +toward me—resting there for a full minute; then they swept around +slowly in their accustomed course, and again paused for a minute. +Thereby I deciphered the letter M, and started into full and instant +animation. I had, of course, overslept myself, and thereby, probably, +lost a portion of Jessie’s dear message. How much of it, indeed?</p> + +<p>“What is the hour, Barry?”</p> + +<p>“Half-past twelve,” he said. “But what do <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span>you make of yonder +business? Is it some accident to the works, do you think?—or has old +Barkstead gone on a spree again, as they say he once did, and is now +playing fast and loose with the lights?”</p> + +<p>While he had been speaking, new revolutions, broken, by longer or +shorter pauses, had succeeded; and I deciphered the additional letters +A and S.</p> + +<p>“Whatever it may be, Barry,” I then answered—forcing myself to attend +to him, and feeling a little guilty for being obliged to keep the +mysterious secret from him—“don’t you see that nothing can be done +about it, now? Go, therefore, to bed again. This cold lantern is no +place for you to remain in. And to-morrow, bright and early, I will go +out myself, and ascertain what may be the matter.”</p> + +<p>With that, I gently pushed Barry down the first two or three steps, +and heard him go grumbling and puffing the rest of the way to his own +nook. Meanwhile, the bright signalling from Beacon Point went +on—letter after letter—until, at last, I read out the whole +sentence:</p> + +<p class="center"><i>“——mas has come.</i>”</p> + +<p>“Christmas has come!” This, of course, was the completion of the +message; for it was not now difficult to supply those letters which, +through my tardy awakening, I had missed. My heart <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span>bounded high with +joy and exultation. Sanguinely as I had anticipated a favorable +verdict at Jessie’s hands, my utmost hopes had never asked for such a +frank and instant admission of her preference as this. To be reminded, +at the very first stroke of the midnight hour, that the important day +for decision had arrived: what was this but being told that the day +should bring its blessing with it?—that Jessie herself had awaited +its approach as eagerly as I had, feeling as acutely the delay?—that +now there should be no more disguise or misconstruction between us? +Christmas had come! It was, indeed, a frank and noble response to my +message of the night before, telling me that now, at last, she had +surrendered her heart to my safe-keeping. Had it been possible, I +would have run over at once to Beacon Ledge, and pressed her to my +heart. But, of course, not the tempest merely forbade. I must wait +until the more suitable time of morning, still many hours off. +Therefore, composing myself as well as possible for quiet waiting, I +sat, during the remainder of the night, musing over my pleasant +prospects, and watching anxiously for the first ray of morning.</p> + +<p>It came at last—later than usual, for the tempest had not yet abated, +and the approach of day was to be noted rather by the gradual +lightening of the atmosphere, than by any gleam of eastern dawn. Then +I extinguished the lights, stopped the machinery, and descended to old +Barry.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span></p><p>“I will now cross over to the Beacon Ledge,” I said, “and find out +what was the matter last night.”</p> + +<p>“Without your breakfast, boy?” growled the old man.</p> + +<p>But what did I care for breakfast! My heart was too full of joy to +care for any carnal needs; and, therefore, with some lame excuse for +my hurry, and a guilty sense of continued deception weighing upon my +mind, I set off, promising a speedy return. The task that I had set +myself was no trifle, and I could not wonder at the solemn shake of +the head with which Barry watched my departure. The tempest was at its +height, and a blinding sheet of rain and ocean-spray drove wildly into +my face at each step. The breakers dashed furiously upon the beach—so +furiously, indeed, that the usual route along the hard-pressed sand +had become impassable, and I was obliged to take a higher path through +the loose, yielding pebbles. But I persevered bravely and +determinedly, though so sorely fettered in my steps, and buffeted in +my face, and, after nearly two hours, reached the other lighthouse.</p> + +<p>I entered without ceremony, and, in the angle of the first flight of +stairs—our usual trysting-place ever since the lateness of the season +had denied us the rock by the sea-side—I found dear Jessie. But she +was not alone. Beside her, and too near, I thought, sat a +pleasant-faced young man, who, at my approach, arose, and with a +miserably counterfeited <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span>affectation of indifference, sauntered away. +Jessie also arose, and with whitened face, came forward.</p> + +<p>“Why are you here?” she murmured. “Did I not signal it all to you, so +that you might know the truth, and spare both yourself and me this +meeting?”</p> + +<p>“What do you mean?” I gasped.</p> + +<p>“Did you not understand me, after all, kind friend? You know, indeed, +that I once told you how I had loved another. I had no expectation of +seeing him again, it is true. He was far away with his vessel when we +departed from our little village, leaving, as you know, not a trace +behind us; and, therefore, there was no way in which the secret of our +present retreat could be learned by any one. Nor could I write to him +and tell him, for he had not yet spoken to me of love, and I did not +know but what he would choose, in the end, to forget me. But Fate, +after all, is sometimes kind. Searching for me, without any trace to +guide him, he had almost despaired, when, the night before this last, +coming in from sea, he saw the Penguin Light; and noticing how, while +you were signalling to me, at times it stopped for a moment, he +thought it was the Upper Roadstead Light, and so ran in and made this +little harbor by mistake. Thereby it was that we have chanced to meet +again.”</p> + +<p>“But, Jessie, you signalled to me that—”</p> + +<p>“I signalled that Thomas had come. Did you <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span>not comprehend? Or can it +be that I had never happened to mention his name to you?”</p> + +<p>“Ah!” I feebly exclaimed, the light breaking in upon me; “Thomas was +the word, then, was it? I thought—but no matter now for my thoughts. +Well, farewell, Jessie. There can be no good word or wish that any one +may give you that will not always be uttered twofold from my heart. +You know it, kind friend, do you not?”</p> + +<p>“I know it, George, indeed,” she said.</p> + +<p>And, tearing myself from her, I returned to city life. There I gave +myself once more up to business and its cares, in hopes of drowning my +disappointment; and now, after long months of sad regret, I have +nearly succeeded, and have become myself again. But, at times, I lie +awake in the middle of the night and listen to the city’s roar, and in +the sound I seem to hear once more the play of breakers on the shore +at Beacon Ledge; and then I think, with sadness, how different might +have been my lot, had I not so foolishly determined to utter, with the +lighthouse lamps, and so many miles across, those words of greeting +which should have been softly whispered instead, by lowly pleading +lips, into closely attentive, willing ears.</p> + +<hr class="large" /> +<h3><span class="smcap">Transcriber’s Note:</span></h3> + +<p>Minor changes have been made to correct typesetters’ errors; otherwise +every effort has been made to remain true to the authors’ words and +intent.</p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Stories by American Authors, Volume 9, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STORIES--AMERICAN AUTHORS, VOL 9 *** + +***** This file should be named 31194-h.htm or 31194-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/1/1/9/31194/ + +Produced by D Alexander, Juliet Sutherland and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +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. 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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: + + https://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/31194-h/images/frontis.jpg b/31194-h/images/frontis.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..37aed3d --- /dev/null +++ b/31194-h/images/frontis.jpg diff --git a/31194.txt b/31194.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1145780 --- /dev/null +++ b/31194.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5132 @@ +Project Gutenberg's Stories by American Authors, Volume 9, by Various + +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: Stories by American Authors, Volume 9 + +Author: Various + +Release Date: February 6, 2010 [EBook #31194] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STORIES--AMERICAN AUTHORS, VOL 9 *** + + + + +Produced by D Alexander, Juliet Sutherland and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + +Stories by American Authors + +VOLUME IX + + + _MARSE CHAN_ + BY THOMAS NELSON PAGE + + _MR. BIXBY'S CHRISTMAS VISITOR_ + BY CHARLES S. GAGE + + _ELI_ + BY C. H. WHITE + + _YOUNG STRONG OF "THE CLARION"_ + BY MILICENT WASHBURN SHINN + + _HOW OLD WIGGINS WORE SHIP_ + BY CAPTAIN ROLAND T. COFFIN + + "----_MAS HAS COME_" + BY LEONARD KIP + + NEW YORK + CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS + 1896 + + + + + COPYRIGHT, 1885, BY + CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS + + + + +_The Stories in this Volume are protected by copyright, and are +printed here by authority of the authors or their representatives._ + + + + +[Illustration: Thos. N. Page] + + + + +MARSE CHAN. + +A TALE OF OLD VIRGINIA. + +BY THOMAS NELSON PAGE. + +_Century Magazine April, 1884._ + + +One afternoon, in the autumn of 1872, I was riding leisurely down +the sandy road that winds along the top of the water-shed between +two of the smaller rivers of eastern Virginia. The road I was +travelling, following "the ridge" for miles, had just struck me as +most significant of the character of the race whose only avenue of +communication with the outside world it had formerly been. Their once +splendid mansions, now fast falling to decay, appeared to view from +time to time, set back far from the road, in proud seclusion among +groves of oak and hickory now scarlet and gold with the early frost. +Distance was nothing to this people; time was of no consequence to +them. They desired but a level path in life, and that they had, +though the way was longer and the outer world strode by them as they +dreamed. + +I was aroused from my reflections by hearing some one ahead of me +calling, "Heah!--heah-whoo-oop, heah!" + +Turning the curve in the road, I saw just before me a negro standing, +with a hoe and a watering-pot in his hand. He had evidently just +gotten over the "worm-fence" into the road, out of the path which led +zigzag across the "old field" and was lost to sight in the dense +growth of sassafras. When I rode up, he was looking anxiously back +down this path for his dog. So engrossed was he that he did not even +hear my horse, and I reined in to wait until he should turn around and +satisfy my curiosity as to the handsome old place half a mile off from +the road. + +The numerous out-buildings and the large barns and stables told that +it had once been the seat of wealth, and the wild waste of sassafras +that covered the broad fields gave it an air of desolation that +greatly excited my interest. Entirely oblivious of my proximity, the +negro went on calling, "Whoo-oop, heah!" until along the path, walking +very slowly and with great dignity, appeared a noble-looking old +orange and white setter, gray with age, and corpulent with excessive +feeding. As soon as he came in sight, his master began: + +"Yes, dat you! You gittin' deaf as well as bline, I s'pose! Kyarnt +heah me callin', I reckon? Whyn't yo' come on, dawg?" + +The setter sauntered slowly up to the fence and stopped without even +deigning a look at the speaker, who immediately proceeded to take the +rails down, talking meanwhile: + +"Now, I got to pull down de gap, I s'pose! Yo' so sp'ilt yo' kyahn' +hardly walk. Jes' ez able to git over it as I is! Jes' like white +folks--t'ink 'cuz you's white and I's black, I got to wait on yo' all +de time. Ne'm mine, I ain' gwi' do it!" + +The fence having been pulled down sufficiently low to suit his +dogship, he marched sedately through, and, with a hardly perceptible +lateral movement of his tail, walked on down the road. Putting up the +rails carefully, the negro turned and saw me. + +"Sarvent, marster," he said, taking his hat off. Then, as if +apologetically for having permitted a stranger to witness what was +merely a family affair, he added: "He know I don' mean nothin' by what +I sez. He's Marse Chan's dawg, an' he's so ole he kyahn git long no +pearter. He know I'se jes' prodjickin' wid 'im." + +"Who is Marse Chan?" I asked; "and whose place is that over there--and +the one a mile or two back--the place with the big gate and the carved +stone pillars?" + +"Marse Chan," said the darkey, "he's Marse Channin'--my young marster; +an' dem places--dis one's Weall's, an' de one back dyar wid de rock +gate-pos's is ole Cun'l Chahmb'lin's. Dey don' nobody live dyar +now, 'cep' niggers. Arfter de war some one or nudder bought our place, +but his name done kind o' slipped me. I nuvver hearn on 'im befo'; I +think dey's half-strainers. I don' ax none on 'em no odds. I lives +down de road heah, a little piece, an' I jes' steps down of a evenin' +and looks arfter de graves." + +"Well, where is Marse Chan?" I asked. + +"Hi! don' you know? Marse Chan, he went in de army. I wuz wid 'im. Yo' +know he warn' gwine an' lef' Sam." + +"Will you tell me all about it?" I said, dismounting. + +Instantly, and as if by instinct, the darkey stepped forward and took +my bridle. I demurred a little; but with a bow that would have honored +old Sir Roger, he shortened the reins, and taking my horse from me, +led him along. + +"Now tell me about Marse Chan," I said. + +"Lawd, marster, hit's so long ago, I'd a'most forgit all about it, ef +I hedn' been wid him ever sence he wuz born. Ez 'tis, I remembers it +jes' like 'twuz yistiddy. Yo' know Marse Chan an' me--we wuz boys +togedder. I wuz older'n he wuz, jes' de same ez he wuz whiter'n me. I +wuz born plantin' corn time, de spring arfter big Jim an' de six +steers got washed away at de upper ford right down dyar b'low de +quarters ez he wuz a bringin' de Chris'mas things home; an' Marse +Chan, he warn' born tell mos' to der harves' arfter my sister Nancy +married Cun'l Chahmb'lin's Torm, 'bout eight years arfterwards. + +"Well, when Marse Chan wuz born dey wuz de grettes' doin's at home you +ever did see. De folks all hed holiday, jes' like in de Chris'mas. Ole +marster (we didn' call 'im _ole_ marster tell arfter Marse Chan wuz +born--befo' dat he wuz jes' de marster, so)--well, ole marster, his +face fyar shine wid pleasure, an' all de folks wuz mighty glad, too, +'cause dey all loved ole marster, and aldo' dey did step aroun' right +peart when ole marster wuz lookin' at 'em, dyar warn' nyar han' on de +place but what, ef he wanted anythin', would walk up to de back poach, +an' say he warn' to see de marster. An' ev'ybody wuz talkin' 'bout de +young marster, an' de maids an' de wimmens 'bout de kitchen wuz sayin' +how 'twuz de purties' chile dey ever see; an' at dinner-time de mens +(all on 'em hed holiday) come roun' de poach an' ax how de missis an' +de young marster wuz, an' ole marster come out on de poach an' smile +wus'n a 'possum, an' sez, 'Thankee! Bofe doin' fust rate, boys;' an' +den he stepped back in de house, sort o' laughin' to hisse'f, an' in a +minute he come out ag'in wid de baby in he arms, all wrapped up in +flannens an' things, an' sez, 'Heah he is, boys.' All de folks den, +dey went up on de poach to look at 'im, drappin' dey hats on de steps, +an' scrapin' dey feets ez dey went up. An' pres'n'y ole marster, +lookin' down at we all chil'en all packed togedder down deah like a +parecel o' sheep-burrs, cotch sight o' _me_ (he knowed my name, 'cause +I use' to hole he hoss fur 'im sometimes; but he didn' know all de +chil'en by name, dey wuz so many on 'em), an' he sez, 'Come up heah.' +So up I goes tippin', skeered like, an' old marster sez, 'Ain' you +Mymie's son?' 'Yass, seh,' sez I. 'Well,' sez he, 'I'm gwine to give +you to yo' young Marse Channin' to be his body-servant,' an' he put de +baby right in my arms (it's de truth I'm tellin' you!), an' yo' jes' +ought to a-heard de folks sayin', 'Lawd! marster, dat boy'll drap dat +chile!' 'Naw, he won't,' sez marster; 'I kin trust 'im.' And den he +sez: 'Now, Sam, from dis time you belong to yo' young Marse Channin'; +I wan' you to tek keer on 'im ez long ez he lives. You are to be his +boy from dis time. An' now,' he sez, 'carry 'im in de house.' An' he +walks arfter me an' opens de do's fur me, an' I kyars 'im in my arms, +an' lays 'im down on de bed. An' from dat time I wuz tooken in de +house to be Marse Channin's body-servant. + +"Well, you nuvver see a chile grow so. Pres'n'y he growed up right +big, an' ole marster sez he must have some edication. So he sont 'im +to school to ole Miss Lawry down dyar, dis side o' Cun'l Chahmb'lin's, +an' I use' to go 'long wid 'im an' tote he books an' we all's snacks; +an' when he larnt to read an' spell right good, an' got 'bout so-o +big, old Miss Lawry she died, an' ole marster said he mus' have a man +to teach 'im an' trounce 'im. So we all went to Mr. Hall, whar kep' de +school-house beyant de creek, an' dyar we went ev'y day, 'cep' +Sat'd'ys of co'se, an' sich days ez Marse Chan din' warn' go, an' ole +missis begged 'im off. + +"Hit wuz down dyar Marse Chan fust took notice o' Miss Anne. Mr. Hall, +he taught gals ez well ez boys, an' Cun'l Chahmb'lin he sont his +daughter (dat's Miss Anne I'm talkin' about). She wuz a leetle bit o' +gal when she fust come. Yo' see, her ma wuz dead, an' ole Miss Lucy +Chahmb'lin, she lived wid her brudder an' kep' house for 'im; an' he +wuz so busy wid politics, he didn' have much time to spyar, so he sont +Miss Anne to Mr. Hall's by a 'ooman wid a note. When she come dat day +in de school-house, an' all de chil'en looked at her so hard, she tu'n +right red, an' tried to pull her long curls over her eyes, an' den put +bofe de backs of her little han's in her two eyes, an' begin to cry to +herse'f. Marse Chan he was settin' on de een' o' de bench nigh de do', +an' he jes' reached out an' put he arm roun' her an' drawed her up to +'im. An' he kep' whisperin' to her, an' callin' her name, an' coddlin' +her; an' pres'n'y she took her han's down an' begin to laugh. + +"Well, dey 'peared to tek' a gre't fancy to each udder from dat time. +Miss Anne she warn' nuthin' but a baby hardly, an' Marse Chan he wuz a +good big boy 'bout mos' thirteen years ole, I reckon. Hows'ever, dey +sut'n'y wuz sot on each udder an' (yo' heah me!) ole marster an' Cun'l +Chahmb'lin dey 'peared to like it 'bout well ez de chil'en. Yo' see +Cun'l Chahmb'lin's place j'ined ourn, an' it looked jes' ez natural +fur dem two chil'en to marry an' mek it one plantation, ez it did fur +de creek to run down de bottom from our place into Cun'l Chahmb'lin's. +I don' rightly think de chil'en thought 'bout gittin' _married_, not +den, no mo'n I thought 'bout marryin' Judy when she wuz a little gal +at Cun'l Chahmb'lin's, runnin' 'bout de house, huntin' fur Miss Lucy's +spectacles; but dey wuz good frien's from de start. Marse Chan he use' +to kyar Miss Anne's books fur her ev'y day, an' ef de road wuz muddy +or she wuz tired, he use' to tote her; an' 'twarn' hardly a day passed +dat he didn' kyar her some'n' to school--apples or hick'y nuts, or +some'n'. He wouldn' let none o' de chil'en tease her, nudder. Heh! One +day, one o' de boys poked he finger at Miss Anne, an' arfter school +Marse Chan he axed 'im 'roun' hine de school-house out o' sight, an' +ef he didn' whop 'im! + +"Marse Chan, he wuz de peartes' scholar ole Mr. Hall hed, an' Mr. Hall +he wuz mighty proud o' 'im. I don' think he use' to beat 'im ez much +ez he did de udders, aldo' he wuz de head in all debilment dat went +on, jes' ez he wuz in sayin' he lessons. + +"Heh! one day in summer, jes' 'fo' de school broke up, dyah come up a +storm right sudden, an' riz de creek (dat one yo' cross' back yonder), +an' Marse Chan he toted Miss Anne home on he back. He ve'y off'n did +dat when de parf wuz muddy. But dis day when dey come to de creek, it +had done washed all de logs 'way. 'Twuz still mighty high, so Marse +Chan he put Miss Anne down, an' he took a pole an' waded right in. Hit +took 'im long up to de shoulders. Den he waded back, an' took Miss +Anne up on his head an' kyar'd her right over. At fust she wuz +skeered; but he tol' her he could swim an' wouldn' let her git hu't, +an' den she let 'im kyar her 'cross, she hol'in' his han's. I warn' +'long dat day, but he sut'n'y did dat thing. + +"Ole marster he wuz so pleased 'bout it, he giv' Marse Chan a pony; +an' Marse Chan rode 'im to school de day arfter he come, so proud, an' +sayin' how he wuz gwine to let Anne ride behine 'im; an' when he come +home dat evenin' he wuz walkin'. 'Hi! where's yo' pony?' said ole +marster. 'I give 'im to Anne,' says Marse Chan. 'She liked 'im, an'--I +kin walk.' 'Yes,' sez ole marster, laughin', 'I s'pose you's already +done giv' her yo'se'f, an' nex' thing I know you'll be givin' her this +plantation and all my niggers.' + +"Well, about a fortnight or sich a matter arfter dat, Cun'l Chahmb'lin +sont over an' invited all o' we all over to dinner, an' Marse Chan wuz +'spressly named in de note whar Ned brought; an' arfter dinner he made +ole Phil, whar wuz his ker'ige-driver, bring roun' Marse Chan's pony +wid a little side-saddle on 'im, an' a beautiful little hoss wid a +bran'-new saddle an' bridle on 'im; an' he gits up an' meks Marse Chan +a gre't speech, an' presents 'im de little hoss; an' den he calls Miss +Anne, an' she comes out on de poach in a little ridin' frock, an' dey +puts her on her pony, an' Marse Chan mounts his hoss, an' dey goes to +ride, while de grown folks is a-laughin' an' chattin' an' smokin' dey +cigars. + +"Dem wuz good ole times, marster--de bes' Sam ever see! Dey wuz, in +fac'! Niggers didn' hed nothin' 't all to do--jes' hed to 'ten' to de +feedin', an' cleanin' de hosses, an' doin' what de marster tell 'em to +do; an' when dey wuz sick, dey had things sont 'em out de house, an' +de same doctor come to see 'em whar 'ten' to de white folks when dey +wuz po'ly. Dyar warn' no trouble nor nothin'. + +"Well, things tuk a change arfter dat. Marse Chan he went to de +bo'din' school, whar he use' to write to me constant. Ole missis use' +to read me de letters, an' den I'd git Miss Anne to read 'em ag'in to +me when I'd see her. He use' to write to her too, an' she use' to +write to him too. Den Miss Anne she wuz sont off to school too. An' in +de summer time dey'd bofe come home, an' yo' hardly knowed whether +Marse Chan lived at home or over at Cun'l Chahmb'lin's. He wuz over +dyah constant. 'Twuz always ridin' or fishin' down dyah, in de river; +or sometimes he' go over dyah, an' 'im an' she'd go out an' set in de +yard onder de trees; she settin' up mekin' out she wuz knittin' some +sort o' bright-cullored some'n', wid de grarss growin' all up 'g'inst +her, an' her hat th'owed back on her neck, an' he readin' to her out +books; an' sometimes dey'd bofe read out de same book, fust one an' +den todder. I use' to see 'em! Dat wuz when dey wuz growin' up like. + +"Den ole marster he run for Congress, an' ole Cun'l Chahmb'lin he wuz +put up to run 'g'inst ole marster by de Dimicrats; but ole marster he +beat 'im. Yo' know he wuz gwine do dat! Co'se he wuz! Dat made ole +Cun'l Chahmb'lin mighty mad, and dey stopt visitin' each udder +reg'lar, like dey had been doin' all 'long. Den Cun'l Chahmb'lin he +sort o' got in debt, an' sell some o' he niggers, an' dat's de way de +fuss begun. Dat's whar de lawsuit cum from. Ole marster he didn' like +nobody to sell niggers, an' knowin' dat Cun'l Chahmb'lin wuz sellin' +o' his, he writ an' offered to buy his M'ria an' all her chil'en, +'cause she hed married our Zeek'yel. An' don' yo' t'ink, Cun'l +Chahmb'lin axed ole marster mo' 'n th'ee niggers wuz wuth fur M'ria. +Befo' old marster bought her, dough, de sheriff cum an' levelled on +M'ria an' a whole parecel o' udder niggers. Ole marster he went to de +sale, an' bid for 'em; but Cun'l Chahmb'lin he got some one to bid +'g'inst ole marster. Dey wuz knocked out to ole marster dough, an' den +dey hed a big lawsuit, an' ole marster wuz agwine to co't, off an' on, +fur some years, till at lars' de co't decided dat M'ria belonged to +ole marster. Ole Cun'l Chahmb'lin den wuz so mad he sued ole marster +for a little strip o' lan' down dyah on de line fence, whar he said +belonged to 'im. Ev'ybody knowed hit belonged to ole marster. Ef yo' +go down dyah now, I kin show it to yo', inside de line fence, whar it +hed done bin ever since long befo' ole marster wuz born. But Cun'l +Chahmb'lin wuz a mons'us perseverin' man, an' ole marster he wouldn' +let nobody run over 'im. No, dat he wouldn'! So dey wuz agwine down to +co't about dat, fur I don' know how long, till ole marster beat 'im. + +"All dis time, yo' know, Marse Chan wuz a-goin' back'ads an' for'ads +to college, an' wuz growed up a ve'y fine young man. He wuz a ve'y +likely gent'man! Miss Anne she hed done mos' growed up, too--wuz +puttin' her hyar up like ole missis use' to put hers up, an' 'twuz +jes' ez bright ez de sorrel's mane when de sun cotch on it, an' her +eyes wuz gre't big dark eyes, like her pa's, on'y bigger an' not so +fierce, an' 'twarn' none o' de young ladies ez purty ez she wuz. She +an' Marse Chan still set a heap o' sto' by one 'nudder, but I don' +t'ink dey wuz easy wid each udder ez when he used to tote her home +from school on his back. Marse Chan he use' to love de ve'y groun' she +walked on, dough, in my 'pinion. Heh! His face 'twould light up +whenever she come into chu'ch, or anywhere, jes' like de sun hed come +th'oo a chink on it suddenly. + +"Den ole marster lost he eyes. D' yo' ever hyah 'bout dat? Heish! +Didn' yo'? Well, one night de big barn cotch fire. De stables, yo' +know, wuz under de big barn, an' all de hosses wuz in dyah. Hit +'peared to me like 'twarn' no time befo' all de folks an' de +neighbors dey come, an' dey wuz a-totin' water, an' a-tryin' to save +de po' critters, an' dey got a heap on 'em out; but de ker'ige-hosses +dey wouldn' come out, an' dey wuz a-runnin' back'ads an' for'ads +inside de stalls, a-nikerin' an' a-screamin', like dey knowed dey time +hed come. Yo' could heah 'em so pitiful, an' pres'n'y ole marster said +to Ham Fisher (he wuz de ker'ige-driver), 'Go in dyah an' try to save +'em; don' let 'em bu'n to death.' An' Ham he went right in. An' jes' +arfter he got in, de shed whar it hed fus' cotch fell in, an' de +sparks shot 'way up in de air; an' Ham didn' come back, an' de fire +begun to lick out under de eaves over whar de ker'ige-hosses' stalls +wuz, an' all of a sudden ole marster tu'ned and kissed ole missis, who +wuz standin' nigh him, wid her face jes' ez white ez a sperit's, an', +befo' anybody knowed what he wuz gwine do, jumped right in de do', an' +de smoke come po'in' out behine 'im. Well, seh, I nuvver 'specks to +hyah tell Judgment sich a soun' ez de folks set up. Ole missis she +jes' drapt down on her knees in de mud an' prayed out loud. Hit +'peared like her pra'r wuz heard; for in a minit, right out de same +do', kyarin' Ham Fisher in his arms, come ole marster, wid his clo'es +all blazin'. Dey flung water on 'im, an' put 'im out; an', ef you +b'lieve me, yo' wouldn' a-knowed 'twuz ole marster. Yo' see, he hed +find Ham Fisher done fall down in de smoke right by de ker'ige-hoss' +stalls, whar he sont him, an' he hed to tote 'im back in his arms +th'oo de fire what hed done cotch de front part o' de stable, an' to +keep de flame from gittin' down Ham Fisher's th'ote he hed tuk off his +own hat and mashed it all over Ham Fisher's face, an' he hed kep' Ham +Fisher from bein' so much bu'nt; but _he_ wuz bu'nt dreadful! His +beard an' hyar wuz all nyawed off, an' his face an' han's an' neck wuz +scorified terrible. Well, he jes' laid Ham Fisher down, an' then he +kind o' staggered for'ad, an' ole missis ketch' 'im in her arms. Ham +Fisher, he warnt bu'nt so bad, an' he got out in a month or two; an' +arfter a long time, ole marster he got well, too; but he wuz always +stone bline arfter dat. He nuvver could see none from dat night. + +"Marse Chan he comed home from college toreckly, an' he sut'n'y did +nuss ole marster faithful--jes' like a 'ooman. Den he took charge o' +de plantation arfter dat; an' I use' to wait on 'im jes' like when we +wuz boys togedder; an' sometimes we'd slip off an' have a fox-hunt, +an' he'd be jes' like he wuz in ole times, befo' ole marster got +bline, an' Miss Anne Chahmb'lin stopt comin' over to our house, an' +settin' onder de trees, readin' out de same book. + +"He sut'n'y wuz good to me. Nothin' nuvver made no diffunce 'bout dat. +He nuvver hit me a lick in his life--an' nuvver let nobody else do it, +nudder. + +"I 'members one day, when he wuz a leetle bit o' boy, ole marster hed +done tole we all chil'en not to slide on de straw-stacks; an' one day +me an' Marse Chan thought ole marster hed done gone 'way from home. We +watched him git on he hoss an' ride up de road out o' sight, an' we +wuz out in de field a-slidin' an' a-slidin', when up comes ole +marster. We started to run; but he hed done see us, an' he called us +to come back; an' sich a whoppin' ez he did gi' us! + +"Fust he took Marse Chan, an' den he teched me up. He nuvver hu't me, +but in co'se I wuz a-hollerin' ez hard ez I could stave it, 'cause I +knowed dat wuz gwine mek him stop. Marse Chan he hed'n open he mouf +long ez ole marster wuz tunin' 'im; but soon ez he commence warmin' me +an' I begin to holler, Marse Chan he bu'st out cryin', an' stept right +in befo' ole marster, an' ketchin' de whop, sed: + +"'Stop, seh! Yo' sha'n't whop 'im; he b'longs to me, an' ef you hit +'im another lick I'll set 'im free!' + +"I wish yo' hed see ole marster. Marse Chan he warn' mo'n eight years +ole, an' dyah dey wuz--ole marster stan'in' wid he whop raised up, an' +Marse Chan red an' cryin', hol'in' on to it, an' sayin' I b'longst to +'im. + +"Ole marster, he raise' de whop, an' den he drapt it, an' broke out in +a smile over he face, an' he chuck' Marse Chan onder der chin, an' +tu'n right roun' an' went away, laughin' to hisse'f, an' I heah' 'im +tellin' ole missis dat evenin', an' laughin' 'bout it. + +"'Twan' so mighty long arfter dat when dey fust got to talkin' 'bout +de war. Dey wuz a-dictatin' back'ads an' for'ads 'bout it fur two or +th'ee years 'fo' it come sho' nuff, you know. Ole marster, he wuz a +Whig, an' of co'se Marse Chan he tuk after he pa. Cun'l Chahmb'lin, he +wuz a Dimicrat. He wuz in favor of de war, an' ole marster and Marse +Chan dey wuz agin' it. Dey wuz a-talkin' 'bout it all de time, an' +purty soon Cun'l Chahmb'lin he went about ev'vywhar speakin' an' +noratin' 'bout Firginia ought to secede; an' Marse Chan he wuz picked +up to talk agin' 'im. Dat wuz de way dey come to fight de duil. I +sut'n'y wuz skeered fur Marse Chan dat mawnin', an' he was jes' ez +cool! Yo' see, it happen so: Marse Chan he wuz a-speakin' down at de +Deep Creek Tavern, an' he kind o' got de bes' of ole Cun'l Chahmb'lin. +All de white folks laughed an' hoorawed, an' ole Cun'l Chahmb'lin--my +Lawd! I t'ought he'd 'a' bu'st, he wuz so mad. Well, when it come to +his time to speak, he jes' light into Marse Chan. He call 'im a +traitor, an' a ab'litionis', an' I don' know what all. Marse Chan, he +jes' kep' cool till de ole Cun'l light into he pa. Ez soon ez he name +ole marster, I seen Marse Chan sort o' lif' up he head. D' yo' ever +see a hoss rar he head up right sudden at night when he see somethin' +comin' to'ds 'im from de side an' he don' know what 'tis? Ole Cun'l +Chahmb'lin, he went right on. He said ole marster hed taught Marse +Chan; dat ole marster wuz a wuss ab'litionis' dan he son. I looked at +Marse Chan, an' sez to myse'f: 'Fo' Gord! old Cun'l Chahmb'lin better +min', an' I hedn' got de wuds out, when ole Cun'l Chahmb'lin 'cuse' +ole marster o' cheatin' 'im out o' he niggers, an' stealin' piece o' +he lan'--dat's de lan' I tole you 'bout. Well, seh, nex' thing I +knowed, I heahed Marse Chan--hit all happen right 'long togedder, like +lightnin' an' thunder when dey hit right at you--I heah 'im say: + +"'Cun'l Chahmb'lin, what you say is false, an' yo' know it to be so. +You have wilfully slandered one of the pures' an' nobles' men Gord +ever made, an' nothin' but yo' gray hyars protects you.' + +"Well, ole Cun'l Chahmb'lin, he ra'ed an' he pitch'd. He said he wan' +too ole, an' he'd show 'im so. + +"'Ve'y well,' says Marse Chan. + +"De meetin' broke up den. I wuz hol'in de hosses out dyar in de road +by de een' o' de poach, an' I see Marse Chan talkin' an' talkin' to +Mr. Gordon an' anudder gent'man, an' den he come out an' got on de +sorrel an' galloped off. Soon ez he got out o' sight, he pulled up, +an' we walked along tell we come to de road whar leads off to'ds Mr. +Barbour's. He wuz de big lawyer o' de country. Dar he tu'ned off. All +dis time he hedn' sed a wud, 'cep' to kind o' mumble to hisse'f now +an' den. When we got to Mr. Barbour's, he got down an' went in. Dat +wuz in de late winter; de folks wuz jes' beginnin' to plough fur corn. +He stayed dyar 'bout two hours, an' when he come out Mr. Barbour come +out to de gate wid 'im an' shake han's arfter he got up in de saddle. +Den we all rode off. 'Twuz late den--good dark; an' we rid ez hard +ez we could, tell we come to de ole school-house at ole Cun'l +Chahmb'lin's gate. When we got dar Marse Chan got down an' walked +right slow 'roun' de house. Arfter lookin' 'roun' a little while an' +tryin' de do' to see ef it wuz shet, he walked down de road tell he +got to de creek. He stop' dyar a little while an' picked up two or +three little rocks an' frowed 'em in, an' pres'n'y he got up an' we +come on home. Ez he got down, he tu'ned to me an', rubbin' de sorrel's +nose, said: 'Have 'em well fed, Sam; I'll want 'em early in de +mawnin'.' + +"Dat night at supper he laugh an' talk, an' he set at de table a long +time. Arfter ole marster went to bed, he went in de charmber an' set +on de bed by 'im talkin' to 'im an' tellin' 'im 'bout de meetin' an' +ev'ything; but he never mention ole Cun'l Chahmb'lin's name. When he +got up to come out to de office in de yard, whar he slept, he stooped +down an' kissed 'im jes' like he wuz a baby layin' dyar in de bed, an' +he'd hardly let ole missis go at all. I knowed some'n wuz up, an' nex' +mawnin' I called 'im early befo' light, like he tole me, an' he +dressed an' come out pres'n'y jes' like he wuz goin' to chu'ch. I had +de hosses ready, an' we went out de back way to'ds de river. Ez we +rode along, he said: + +"'Sam, you an' I wuz boys togedder, wa'n't we?' + +"'Yes,' sez I, 'Marse Chan, dat we wuz.' + +"'You have been ve'y faithful to me,' sez he, 'an' I have seen to it +that you are well provided fur. You wan' to marry Judy, I know, an' +you'll be able to buy her ef you want to.' + +"Den he tole me he wuz goin' to fight a duil, an' in case he should +git shot, he had set me free an' giv' me nuff to tek keer o' me an' my +wife ez long ez we lived. He said he'd like me to stay an' tek keer o' +ole marster an' ole missis ez long ez dey lived, an' he said it +wouldn' be very long, he reckoned. Dat wuz de on'y time he voice +broke--when he said dat; an' I couldn' speak a wud, my th'oat choked +me so. + +"When we come to de river, we tu'ned right up de bank, an' arfter +ridin' 'bout a mile or sich a matter, we stopped whar dey wuz a little +clearin' wid elder bushes on one side an' two big gum trees on de +udder, an' de sky wuz all red, an' de water down to'ds whar de sun wuz +comin' wuz jes' like de sky. + +"Pres'n'y Mr. Gordon he come wid a 'hogany box 'bout so big 'fore 'im, +an' he got down, an' Marse Chan tole me to tek all de hosses an' go +'roun' behine de bushes whar I tell you 'bout--off to one side; an' +'fore I got 'roun' dar, ole Cun'l Chahmb'lin an' Mr. Hennin an' Dr. +Call come ridin' from tudder way, to'ds ole Cun'l Chahmb'lin's. When +dey hed tied dey hosses, de udder gent'mens went up to whar Mr. Gordon +wuz, an' arfter some chattin' Mr. Hennin step' off 'bout fur ez 'cross +dis road, or mebbe it mout be a little furder; an' den I seed 'em +th'oo de bushes loadin' de pistils, an' talk' a little while; an' den +Marse Chan an' ole Cun'l Chahmb'lin walked up wid de pistils in dey +han's, an' Marse Chan he stood wid his face right to'ds de sun. I seen +it shine on 'im jes' ez it come up over de low groun's, an' he look' +like he did sometimes when he come out of chu'ch. I wuz so skeered I +couldn' say nuthin'. Ole Cun'l Chahmb'lin could shoot fust rate, an' +Marse Chan he never missed. + +"Den I heahed Mr. Gordon say, 'Gent'mens, is yo' ready?' and bofe of +'em sez, 'Ready,' jes' so. + +"An' he sez, 'Fire, one, two'--an' ez he said 'one,' ole Cun'l +Chahmb'lin raised he pistil an' shot right at Marse Chan. De ball went +th'oo his hat. I seen he hat sort o' settle on he head ez de bullit +hit it, an' _he_ jes' tilted his pistil up in de a'r an' shot--_bang_; +an' ez de pistil went _bang_, he sez to Cun'l Chahmb'lin, 'I mek you a +present to yo' fam'ly, seh!' + +"Well, dey had some talkin' arfter dat. I didn' git rightly what it +wuz; but it 'peared like Cun'l Chahmb'lin he warn't satisfied, an' +wanted to have anudder shot. De seconds dey wuz talkin', an' pres'n'y +dey put de pistils up, an' Marse Chan an' Mr. Gordon shook han's wid +Mr. Hennin an' Dr. Call, an' come an' got on dey hosses. An' Cun'l +Chahmb'lin he got on his horse an' rode away wid de udder gent'mens, +lookin' like he did de day befo' when all de people laughed at 'im. + +"I b'lieve ole Cun'l Chahmb'lin wan' to shoot Marse Chan, anyway! + +"We come on home to breakfast, I totin' de box wid de pistils befo' me +on the roan. Would you b'lieve me, seh, Marse Chan he nuvver said a +wud 'bout it to ole marster or nobody. Ole missis didn' fin' out 'bout +it for mo'n a month, an' den, Lawd! how she did cry and kiss Marse +Chan; an' ole marster, aldo' he never say much, he wuz jes' ez please' +ez ole missis. He call' me in de room an' made me tole 'im all 'bout +it, an' when I got th'oo he gi' me five dollars an' a pyar of +breeches. + +"But ole Cun'l Chahmb'lin he nuvver did furgive Marse Chan, and Miss +Anne she got mad too. Wimmens is mons'us onreasonable nohow. Dey's +jes' like a catfish: you cann' tek' hole on 'em like udder folks, an' +when you gits 'em yo' can n' always hole 'em. + +"What meks me think so? Heaps o' things--dis: Marse Chan he done gi' +Miss Anne her pa jes' ez good ez I gi' Marse Chan's dawg sweet +'taters, an' she git mad wid 'im ez if he hed kill 'im 'stid o' +sen'in' 'im back to her dat mawnin' whole an' soun'. B'lieve me! she +wouldn' even speak to 'im arfter dat! + +"Don' I 'member dat mawnin'! + +"We wuz gwine fox-huntin', 'bout six weeks or sich a matter arfter de +duil, an' we met Miss Anne ridin' 'long wid anudder lady an' two +gent'mens whar wuz stayin' at her house. Dyar wuz always some one or +nudder dyar co'ting her. Well, dat mawnin' we meet 'em right in de +road. 'Twuz de fust time Marse Chan had see her sence de duil, an' he +raises he hat ez he pahss, an' she looks right at 'im wid her head up +in de yair like she nuvver see 'im befo' in her born days; an' when +she comes by me, she sez, 'Good-mawnin', Sam!' Gord! I nuvver see +nuthin' like de look dat come on Marse Chan's face when she pahss 'im +like dat. He gi' de sorrel a pull dat fotch 'im back settin' down in +de san' on he hanches. He ve'y lips wuz white. I tried to keep up wid +'im, but 'twarn' no use. He sont me back home pres'n'y, an' he rid on. +I sez to myself, 'Cun'l Chahmb'lin, don' yo' meet Marse Chan dis +mawnin'. He ain' bin lookin' 'roun' de ole school-house, whar he an' +Miss Anne use' to go to school to ole Mr. Hall together, fur nuffin'. +He won' stan' no prodjickin' to-day.' + +"He nuvver come home dat night tell 'way late, an' ef he'd been +fox-huntin' it mus' ha' been de ole red whar lives down in de +greenscum mashes he'd been chasin'. De way de sorrel wuz gormed up wid +sweat an' mire sut'n'y did hu't me. He walked up to de stable wid he +head down all de way, an' I'se seen 'im go eighty miles of a winter +day, an' prance into de stable at night ez fresh ez ef he hed jes' +cantered over to ole Cun'l Chahmb'lin's to supper. I nuvver seen a +hoss beat so sence I knowed de fetlock from de fo'lock, an' bad ez he +wuz he wan' ez bad ez Marse Chan. + +"Whew! he didn' git over dat thing, seh--he nuvver did git over it. + +"De war come on jes' den, an' Marse Chan wuz elected cap'n; but he +wouldn' tek it. He said Firginia hadn' seceded, an' he wuz gwine stan' +by her. Den dey 'lected Mr. Gordon cap'n. + +"I sut'n'y did wan' Marse Chan to tek de place, cuz I knowed he wuz +gwine tek me wid 'im. He wan' gwine widout Sam. An' beside, he look so +po' an' thin, I thought he wuz gwine die. + +"Of co'se ole missis she heard 'bout it, an' she met Miss Anne in de +road, an' cut her jes' like Miss Anne cut Marse Chan. + +"Ole missis, she wuz proud ez anybody! So we wuz mo' strangers dan ef +we hadn' live' in a hunderd miles of each udder. An' Marse Chan he wuz +gittin' thinner an' thinner, an' Firginia she come out, an' den Marse +Chan he went to Richmond an' listed, an' come back an' sey he wuz a +private, an' he didn' know whe'r he could tek me or not. He writ to +Mr. Gordon, hows'ever, and 'twuz decided that when he went I wuz to go +'long an' wait on him, an' de cap'n too. I didn' min' dat, yo' know, +long ez I could go wid Marse Chan, an' I like' Mr. Gordon, anyways. + +"Well, one night Marse Chan come back from de offis wid a telegram dat +say, 'Come at once,' so he wuz to start nex' mawnin'. He uniform wuz +all ready, gray wid yaller trimmin's, an' mine wuz ready too, an' he +had ole marster's sword, whar de State gi' 'im in de Mexikin war; an' +he trunks wuz all packed wid ev'rything in 'em, an' my chist wuz +packed too, an' Jim Rasher he druv 'em over to de depo' in de waggin, +an' we wuz to start nex' mawnin' 'bout light. Dis wuz 'bout de las' o' +spring, you know. Dat night ole missis made Marse Chan dress up in he +uniform, an' he sut'n'y did look splendid wid he long mustache an' he +wavin' hyar and he tall figger. + +"Arfter supper he come down an' sez: 'Sam, I wan' you to tek dis note +an' kyar it over to Cun'l Chahmb'lin's, an' gi' it to Miss Anne wid +yo' own han's, an' bring me wud what she sez. Don' let any one know +'bout it, or know why you've gone.' 'Yes, seh,' sez I. + +"Yo' see, I knowed Miss Anne's maid over at ole Cun'l +Chahmb'lin's--dat wuz Judy whar is my wife now--an' I knowed I could +wuk it. So I tuk de roan an' rid over, an' tied 'im down de hill in de +cedars, an' I wen' 'roun' to de back yard. 'Twuz a right blowy sort o' +night; de moon wuz jes' risin', but de clouds wuz so big it didn' +shine 'cep' th'oo a crack now an' den. I soon foun' my gal, an' arfter +tellin' her two or three lies 'bout herse'f, I got her to go in an' ax +Miss Anne to come to de do'. When she come, I gi' her de note, an' +arfter a little while she bro't me anudder, an' I tole her good-by, +an' she gi' me a dollar, an' I come home an' gi' de letter to Marse +Chan. He read it, an' tole me to have de hosses ready at twenty minits +to twelve at de corner of de garden. An' jes' befo' dat he come out ez +ef he wuz gwine to bed, but instid he come, an' we all struck out +to'ds Cun'l Chahmb'lin's. When we got mos' to de gate, de hosses got +sort o' skeered, an' I see dey wuz some'n or somebody standin' jes' +inside; an' Marse Chan he jumpt off de sorrel an' flung me de bridle +and he walked up. + +"She spoke fust ('twuz Miss Anne had done come out dyar to meet Marse +Chan), an' she sez, jes' ez cold ez a chill, 'Well, seh, I granted +your favor. I wished to relieve myse'f of de obligations you placed me +under a few months ago, when you made me a present of my father, whom +you fust insulted an' then prevented from gittin' satisfaction.' + +"Marse Chan he didn' speak fur a minit, an' den he said: 'Who is with +you?' (Dat wuz ev'y wud.) + +"'No one,' sez she; 'I came alone.' + +"'My God!' sez he, 'you didn' come all through those woods by yourse'f +at this time o' night?' + +"'Yes, I'm not afraid,' sez she. (An' heah dis nigger! I don' b'lieve +she wuz.) + +"De moon come out, an' I cotch sight o' her stan'in' dyar in her white +dress, wid de cloak she had wrapped herse'f up in drapped off on de +groun', an' she didn' look like she wuz 'feared o' nuthin'. She wuz +mons'us purty ez she stood dyar wid de green bushes behine her, an' +she hed jes' a few flowers in her breas'--right hyah--and some leaves +in her sorrel hyar; an' de moon come out an' shined down on her hyar +an' her frock, an' 'peared like de light wuz jes' stan'in' off it ez +she stood dyar lookin' at Marse Chan wid her head tho'd back, jes' +like dat mawnin' when she pahss Marse Chan in de road widout speakin' +to 'im, an' sez to me, 'Good mawnin', Sam.' + +"Marse Chan, he den tole her he hed come to say good-by to her, ez he +wuz gwine 'way to de war nex' mawnin'. I wuz watchin' on her, an' I +tho't when Marse Chan tole her dat, she sort o' started an' looked up +at 'im like she wuz mighty sorry, an' 'peared like she didn' stan' +quite so straight arfter dat. Den Marse Chan he went on talkin' right +fars' to her; an' he tole her how he had loved her ever sence she wuz +a little bit o' baby mos', an' how he nuvver 'membered de time when he +hedn' 'spected to marry her. He tole her it wuz his love for her dat +hed made 'im stan' fust at school an' collige, an' hed kep' 'im good +an' pure; an' now he wuz gwine 'way, wouldn' she let it be like 'twuz +in ole times, an' ef he come back from de war wouldn' she try to t'ink +on him ez she use' to do when she wuz a little guirl? + +"Marse Chan he had done been talkin' so serious, he hed done tuk Miss +Anne's han', an' wuz lookin' down in her face like he wuz list'nin' +wid his eyes. + +"Arfter a minit Miss Anne she said somethin', an' Marse Chan he cotch +her udder han' an' sez: + +"'But if you love me, Anne?' + +"When he sed dat, she tu'ned her head 'way from 'im, an' wait' a +minit, an' den she sed--right clear: + +"'But I don' love yo'.' (Jes' dem th'ee wuds!) De wuds fall right +slow--like dirt falls out a spade on a coffin when yo's buryin' +anybody an' seys, 'Uth to uth.' Marse Chan he jes' let her hand drap, +an' he stiddy hisse'f 'g'inst de gate-pos', an' he didn' speak +toreckly. When he did speak, all he sez wuz: + +"'I mus' see you home safe.' + +"I 'clar, marster, I didn' know 'twuz Marse Chan's voice tell I look +at 'im right good. Well, she wouldn' let 'im go wid her. She jes' +wrap' her cloak 'roun' her shoulders, an' wen' 'long back by herse'f, +widout doin' more'n jes' look up once at Marse Chan leanin' dyah +'g'inst de gate-pos' in he sodger clo'es, wid he eyes on de groun'. +She said 'Good-by' sort o' sorf, an' Marse Chan, widout lookin' up, +shake han's wid her, an' she wuz done gone down de road. Soon ez she +got 'mos' 'roun' de curve, Marse Chan he followed her, keepin' under +de trees so ez not to be seen, an' I led de hosses on down de road +behine 'im. He kep' 'long behine her tell she wuz safe in de house, +an' den he come an' got on he hoss, an' we all come home. + +"Nex' mawnin' we all come off to j'ine de army. An' dey wuz a-drillin' +an' a-drillin' all 'bout for a while an' dey went 'long wid all de +res' o' de army, an I went wid Marse Chan an' clean he boots, an' look +arfter de tent, an' tek keer o' him an' de hosses. An' Marse Chan, he +wan' a bit like he use' to be. He wuz so solum an' moanful all de +time, at leas' 'cep' when dyah wuz gwine to be a fight. Den he'd +peartin' up, an' he alwuz rode at de head o' de company 'cause he wuz +tall; an' hit wan' on'y in battles whar all his company wuz dat _he_ +went, but he use' to volunteer whenever de cun'l wanted anybody to +fine out anythin', an' 'twuz so dangersome he didn' like to mek one +man go no sooner'n anudder, yo' know, an' ax'd who'd volunteer. _He_ +'peared to like to go prowlin' aroun' 'mong dem Yankees, an' he use' +to tek me wid 'im whenever he could. Yes, seh, he sut'n'y wuz a good +sodger! He didn' mine bullets no more'n he did so many draps o' rain. +But I use' to be pow'ful skeered sometimes. It jes' use' to 'pear like +fun to 'im. In camp he use' to be so sorrerful he'd hardly open he +mouf. You'd 'a' tho't he wuz seekin', he used to look so moanful; but +jes' le' 'im git into danger, an' he use' to be like ole times--jolly +an' laughin' like when he wuz a boy. + +"When Cap'n Gordon got he leg shot off, dey mek Marse Chan cap'n on de +spot, 'cause one o' de lieutenants got kilt de same day, an' tor'er +one (named Mr. Ronny) wan' no 'count, an' all de company sed Marse +Chan wuz de man. + +"An' Marse Chan he wuz jes' de same. He didn' never mention Miss +Anne's name, but I knowed he wuz thinkin' on her constant. One night +he wuz settin' by de fire in camp, an' Mr. Ronny--he wuz de secon' +lieutenant--got to talkin' 'bout ladies, an' he say all sorts o' +things 'bout 'em, an' I see Marse Chan kinder lookin' mad; an' de +lieutenant mention Miss Anne's name. He hed been courtin' Miss Anne +'bout de time Marse Chan fit de duil wid her pa, an' Miss Anne hed +kicked 'im, dough he wuz mighty rich, 'cause he warn' nuthin' but a +half-strainer, an' 'cause she like Marse Chan, I believe, dough she +didn' speak to 'im; an' Mr. Ronny he got drunk, an' 'cause Cun'l +Chahmb'lin tole 'im not to come dyah no more, he got mighty mad. An' +dat evenin' I'se tellin' yo' 'bout, he wuz talkin', an' he mention' +Miss Anne's name. I see Marse Chan tu'n he eye 'roun' on 'im an' keep +it on he face, an' pres'n'y Mr. Ronny said he wuz gwine hev some fun +dyah yit. He didn' mention her name dat time; but he said dey wuz all +on 'em a parecel of stuck-up 'risticrats, an' her pa wan' no gent'man +anyway, and _she_----I don' know what he wuz gwine say (he nuvver said +it), fur ez he got dat far Marse Chan riz up an' hit 'im a crack, an' +he fall like he hed been hit wid a fence-rail. He challenged Marse +Chan to fight a duil, an' Marse Chan he excepted de challenge, an' dey +wuz gwine fight; but some on 'em tole 'im Marse Chan wan' gwine mek a +present o' him to his fam'ly, an' he got somebody to bre'k up de duil; +'twan' nuthin' dough, but he wuz 'fred to fight Marse Chan. An' purty +soon he lef' de comp'ny. + +"Well, I got one o' de gent'mens to write Judy a letter for me, an' I +tole her all 'bout de fight, an' how Marse Chan knock Mr. Ronny over +fur speakin' discontemptuous o' Cun'l Chahmb'lin, an' I tole her how +Marse Chan wuz a-dyin' fur love o' Miss Anne. An' Judy she gits Miss +Anne to read de letter fur her. Den Miss Anne she tells her pa, +an'--you mind, Judy tells me all dis arfterwards, an' she say when +Cun'l Chahmb'lin hear 'bout it, he wuz settin' on de poach, an' he set +still a good while, an' den he sey to hisse'f: + +"'Well, he carn' he'p bein' a Whig.' + +"An' den he gits up an' walks up to Miss Anne an' looks at her right +hard; an' Miss Anne she hed done tu'n away her head an' wuz makin' out +she wuz fixin' a rose-bush 'g'inst de poach; an' when her pa kep' +lookin' at her, her face got jes' de color o' de roses on de bush, an' +pres'n'y her pa sez: + +"'Anne!' + +"An' she tu'ned 'roun', an' he sez: + +"'Do yo' want 'im?' + +"An' she sez, 'Yes,' an' put her head on he shoulder an' begin to cry; +an' he sez: + +"'Well, I won' stan' between yo' no longer. Write to 'im an' say so.' + +"We didn' know nuthin' 'bout dis den. We wuz a-fightin' an' a-fightin' +all dat time; an' come one day a letter to Marse Chan, an' I see 'im +start to read it in his tent, an' he face hit look so cu'ious, an' he +han's trembled so I couldn' mek out what wuz de matter wid 'im. An' he +fold' de letter up an' wen' out an' wen' 'way down 'hine de camp, an' +stayed dyah 'bout nigh an hour. Well, seh, I wuz on de lookout for 'im +when he come back, an', fo' Gord, ef he face didn' shine like a +angel's. I say to myse'f, 'Um'm! ef de glory o' Gord ain' done shine +on 'im!' An' what yo' 'spose 'twuz? + +"He tuk me wid 'im dat evenin', an' he tell me he hed done git a +letter from Miss Anne, an' Marse Chan he eyes look like gre't big +stars, an' he face wuz jes' like 'twuz dat mawnin' when de sun riz up +over de low groun's, an' I see 'im stan'in' dyah wid de pistil in he +han', lookin' at it, an' not knowin' but what it mout be de lars' +time, an' he done mek up he mine not to shoot ole Cun'l Chahmb'lin fur +Miss Anne's sake, what writ 'im de letter. + +"He fold' de letter wha' was in his han' up, an' put it in he inside +pocket--right dyar on de lef' side; an' den he tole me he tho't mebbe +we wuz gwine hev some warm wuk in de nex' two or th'ee days, an arfter +dat ef Gord speared 'im he'd git a leave o' absence fur a few days, +an' we'd go home. + +"Well, dat night de orders come, an' we all hed to git over to'ds +Romney; an' we rid all night till 'bout light; an' we halted right on +a little creek, an' we stayed dyah till mos' breakfas' time, an' I see +Marse Chan set down on de groun' 'hine a bush an' read dat letter over +an' over. I watch 'im, an' de battle wuz a-goin' on, but we hed orders +to stay 'hine de hill, an' ev'y now an' den de bullets would cut de +limbs o' de trees right over us, an' one o' dem big shells what goes +'_Awhar--awhar--awhar!_' would fall right 'mong us; but Marse Chan he +didn' mine it no mo'n nuthin'! Den it 'peared to git closer an' +thicker, an' Marse Chan he calls me, an' I crep' up, an' he sez: + +"'Sam, we'se goin' to win in dis battle, an' den we'll go home an' git +married; an' I'se goin' home wid a star on my collar.' An' den he sez, +'Ef I'm wounded, kyar me home, yo' hear?' An' I sez, 'Yes, Marse +Chan.' + +"Well, jes' den dey blowed boots an' saddles an' we mounted; an' de +orders come to ride 'roun' de slope, an' Marse Chan's company wuz de +secon'; an' when we got 'roun' dyah, we wuz right in it. Hit wuz de +wust place ever dis nigger got in. An' dey said, 'Charge 'em!' an' my +king! ef ever you see bullets fly, dey did dat day. Hit wuz jes' like +hail; an' we wen' down de slope (I long wid de res') an' up de hill +right to'ds de cannons, an' de fire wuz so strong dyar (dey hed a +whole rigiment o' infintrys layin' down dyar onder de cannons) our +lines sort o' broke an' stop; de cun'l was kilt, an' I b'lieve dey wuz +jes' 'bout to bre'k all to pieces, when Marse Chan rid up an' cotch +hol' de fleg an' hollers, 'Foller me!' an' rid strainin' up de hill +'mong de cannons. I seen 'im when he went, de sorrel four good lengths +ahead o' ev'y udder hoss, jes' like he use' to be in a fox-hunt, an' +de whole rigiment right arfter 'im. Yo' ain' nuvver hear thunder! Fust +thing I knowed, de roan roll' head over heels an' flung me up 'g'inst +de bank, like yo' chuck a nubbin over 'g'inst de foot o' de corn pile. +An' dat's what kep' me from bein' kilt, I 'specks. Judy she say she +think 'twuz Providence, but I think 'twuz de bank. Of co'se, +Providence put de bank dyar, but how come Providence nuvver saved +Marse Chan! When I look' 'roun', de roan wuz layin' dyah by me, stone +dead, wid a cannon-ball gone 'mos' th'oo him, an' our men hed done +swep' dem on t' udder side from de top o' de hill. 'Twan' mo'n a minit, +de sorrel come gallupin' back wid his mane flyin', an' de rein hangin' +down on one side to his knee. 'Dyar!' says I, 'fo' Gord! I 'specks dey +done kill Marse Chan, an' I promised to tek care on him.' + +"I jumped up an' run over de bank, an' dyar wid a whole lot o' dead +men, an' some not dead yit, onder one o' de guns wid de fleg still in +he han', an' a bullet right th'oo he body, lay Marse Chan. I tu'n' 'im +over an' call 'im 'Marse Chan!' but 'twan' no use, he wuz done gone +home, sho' 'nuff. I pick' 'im up in my arms wid de fleg still in he +han's, an' toted 'im back jes' like I did dat day when he wuz a baby, +an' ole marster gin 'im to me in my arms, an' sez he could trus' me, +an' tell me to tek keer on 'im long ez he lived. I kyar'd 'im 'way off +de battlefiel' out de way o' de balls, an' I laid 'im down onder a big +tree tell I could git somebody to ketch de sorrel for me. He wuz +cotched arfter awhile, an' I hed some money, so I got some pine plank +an' made a coffin dat evenin', an' wrapt Marse Chan's body up in de +fleg, an' put 'im in de coffin; but I didn' nail de top on strong, +'cause I knowed ole missis wan' see 'im; an' I got a' ambulance an' +set out for home dat night. We reached dyar de nex' evenin', arfter +travellin' all dat night an' all nex' day. + +"Hit 'peared like somethin' hed tole ole missis we wuz comin' so; for +when we got home she wuz waitin' for us--done drest up in her best +Sunday-clo'es, an' stan'in' at de head o' de big steps, an' ole +marster settin' in his big cheer--ez we druv up de hill to'ds de +house, I drivin' de ambulance an' de sorrel leadin' 'long behine wid +de stirrups crost over de saddle. + +"She come down to de gate to meet us. We took de coffin out de +ambulance an' kyar'd it right into de big parlor wid de pictures in +it, whar dey use' to dance in ole times when Marse Chan wuz a +school-boy, an' Miss Anne Chahmb'lin use' to come over, an' go wid ole +missis into her chamber an' tek her things off. In dyar we laid de +coffin on two o' de cheers, an' ole missis nuvver said a wud; she jes' +looked so ole an' white. + +"When I had tell 'em all 'bout it, I tu'ned right 'roun' an' rid over +to Cun'l Chahmb'lin's, 'cause I knowed dat wuz what Marse Chan he'd +'a' wanted me to do. I didn' tell nobody whar I wuz gwine, 'cause yo' +know none on 'em hadn' nuvver speak to Miss Anne, not sence de duil, +an' dey didn' know 'bout de letter. + +"When I rid up in de yard, dyar wuz Miss Anne a-stan'in' on de poach +watchin' me ez I rid up. I tied my hoss to de fence, an' walked up de +parf. She knowed by de way I walked dyar wuz somethin' de motter, an' +she wuz mighty pale. I drapt my cap down on de een' o' de steps an' +went up. She nuvver opened her mouf; jes' stan' right still an' keep +her eyes on my face. Fust, I couldn' speak; den I cotch my voice, an' +I say, 'Marse Chan, he done got he furlough.' + +"Her face was mighty ashy, an' she sort o' shook, but she didn' fall. +She tu'ned roun' an' said, 'Git me de ker'ige!' Dat wuz all. + +"When de ker'ige come 'roun', she hed put on her bonnet, an' wuz +ready. Ez she got in, she sey to me, 'Hev yo' brought him home?' an' +we drove 'long, I ridin' behine. + +"When we got home, she got out, an' walked up de big walk--up to de +poach by herse'f. Ole missis hed done fin' de letter in Marse Chan's +pocket, wid de love in it, while I wuz 'way, an' she wuz a-waitin' on +de poach. Dey sey dat wuz de fust time ole missis cry when she find de +letter, an' dat she sut'n'y did cry over it, pintedly. + +"Well, seh, Miss Anne she walks right up de steps, mos' up to ole +missis stan'in' dyar on de poach, an' jes' falls right down mos' to +her, on her knees fust, an' den flat on her face right on de flo', +ketchin' at ole missis' dress wid her two han's--so. + +"Ole missis stood for 'bout a minit lookin' down at her, an' den she +drapt down on de flo' by her, an' took her in bofe her arms. + +"I couldn' see, I wuz cryin' so myse'f, an' ev'ybody wuz cryin'. But +dey went in arfter a while in de parlor, an' shet de do'; an' I hyard +'em say, Miss Anne she tuk de coffin in her arms an' kissed it, an' +kissed Marse Chan, an' call 'im by his name, an' her darlin', an' ole +missis lef' her cryin' in dyar tell some on 'em went in, an' found her +done faint on de flo'. + +"Judy (she's my wife) she tell me she heah Miss Anne when she axed ole +missis mout she wear mo'nin' fur 'im. I don' know how dat is; but when +we buried 'im nex' day, she wuz de one whar walked arfter de coffin, +holdin' ole marster, an' ole missis she walked next to 'em." + +"Well, we buried Marse Chan dyar in de ole grabeyard, wid de fleg +wrapped roun' 'im, an' he face lookin' like it did dat mawnin' down in +de low groun's, wid de new sun shinin' on it so peaceful. + +"Miss Anne she nuvver went home arfter dat; she stay wid ole marster +an' ole missis ez long ez dey lived. Dat warn' so mighty long, 'cause +ole marster he died dat fall, when dey wuz fallerin' fur wheat--I had +jes' married Judy den--an' ole missis she warn' long behine him. We +buried her by him next summer. Miss Anne she went in de hospitals +toreckly arfter ole missis died; an' jes' fo' Richmond fell she come +home sick wid de fever. Yo' nuvver would 'a' knowed her fur de same +ole Miss Anne. She wuz light ez a piece o' peth, an' so white, 'cep' +her eyes an' her sorrel hyar, an' she kep' on gittin' whiter an' +weaker. Judy she sut'n'y did nuss her faithful. But she nuvver got no +betterment! De fever an' Marse Chan's bein' kilt hed done strain her, +an' she died jes' 'fo' de folks wuz sot free. + +"So we buried Miss Anne right by Marse Chan, in a place whar ole +missis hed tole us to leave, an' dey's bofe on 'em sleep side by side +over in de ole grabeyard at home. + +"An' will yo' please tell me, marster? Dey tells me dat de Bible sey +dyar won' be marryin' nor givin' in marriage in heaven, but I don' +b'lieve it signifies dat--does yo'?" + +I gave him the comfort of my earnest belief in some other +interpretation, together with several spare "eighteen-pences," as he +called them, for which he seemed humbly grateful. And as I rode away I +heard him calling across the fence to his wife, who was standing in +the door of a small whitewashed cabin, near which we had been standing +for some time: + +"Judy, have Marse Chan's dawg got home?" + + + + +MR. BIXBY'S CHRISTMAS VISITOR. + +BY CHARLES S. GAGE. + +_Appleton's Journal, December 30, 1871._ + + +At the head of the first flight of stairs, and on opposite sides of +the landing, were the respective rooms of Mr. Bixby and Mr. Bangs. The +house in which they lived stood in a quiet and retired street on the +lower and western side of New York, a locality which was once +inhabited by fashionable families, afterward by old-fashioned +families, and at the time of our story by the keepers of +boarding-houses for single men. + +Mr. Henry Bixby and Mr. Alfred Bangs were single men--Mr. Bangs, the +wine-merchant, because he liked wine and song so well that he never +had leisure to think of women, because he was fat, because he was red +in the face, and, if more reasons are necessary, because his fingers +were chubby and short. For twenty years, day by day, Mr. Bangs had +been absorbed in business. For twenty years, night after night, it +had been his custom to entertain his friends at his apartment in not a +very quiet way. He was so happy, and bulbous, and jolly, that he had +never thought of marriage. Yet he might easily have been mistaken by +the casual observer for a family man. He wore a white vest when it +wasn't too cold; his linen was painfully plain. There was not a sign +of jewelry about him. He wore low shoes, which he tied with a ribbon. +This was Mr. Bangs. + +Not quite so old in years as the opposite lodger was Mr. Bixby, known +to his few friends as a genial philosopher and poet, to the public as +the literary critic of one of the great daily papers. He might have +been thirty-five years of age, but, as he had lived more for others +than for himself, as he had made a study and not a pleasure of life, +his gray eyes and the other features of his face suggested to whoever +met him a longer past. There was something about him that caused men +to wonder, not what he was, but what he had been. + +For ten years Mr. Bangs and Mr. Bixby had been inmates of the house +together. Mr. Bangs had been there longer. The present landlady had +received as a legacy from her predecessor, who did not care to take +him away, Mr. Bangs. As she said, she made a present of Bangs. + +Long as they had known each other, the two lodgers were only +acquaintances. Sometimes, on a Sunday afternoon, they would walk out +in company, stroll down to the Battery, and there smoke their cigars +and watch the ships, but beyond this point of sociability, which +neither enjoyed, there was nothing more. Never had Bixby read Bangs +any poem he had made, nor did ever Bangs invite Bixby to meet his +convivial friends of an evening to play whist or to partake of his +mulled ale. In fact, Mr. Bixby had been often and with great +enthusiasm voted an unsocial fellow by the cronies of Mr. Bangs, but +he rose somewhat in their estimation when they were informed that he +had consented to exchange rooms with their host. + +"He isn't such a grouty fellow, after all," said Bangs. "I told him +that we were too near the street, and that some one had been +complaining to the landlady of our singing. He didn't even stop to +think, but agreed to do it at once. He thought the light would be +better here. Now, fellows, I call that doing the fair thing." + +And the speech of Mr. Bangs was applauded. + +It was the morning of the day before Christmas that the change was +effected. In the closet where had been the bottles, the decanters, +glasses, and pickle-jars of the late occupant, Mr. Bixby had arranged +shelves, and filled them with his books. Over the mantel, from which +Mr. Bangs had taken away a colored print of a bull-dog in an overcoat, +Mr. Bixby hung a fine engraving of the Madonna, and on the mantel +itself he had placed his clock. It was a small French clock under a +crystal, so that its rapidly-swinging pendulum could be easily seen. +All bachelors, however negligent of their surroundings, have some one +hobby among articles of furniture. It may be an easy-chair, or a +book-case, or a chandelier--there is one thing that must be the best +of its kind. There could be no doubt, from the care with which Mr. +Bixby placed his clock in its position, and from time to time compared +it with his watch, that this was his hobby. It had the three +requisites which he demanded in a clock. It kept correct time without +failing, its pendulum swung rapidly, and was plainly visible. Time +past was the happiness of Mr. Bixby, and this clock told him +continually that all was being done that could be done to induce the +hours of every day to go over to the majority. He depended upon this +clock. He was surer of its mechanism than of that of his own heart. + +What with hanging his pictures and arranging his furniture, and with +many other little things which had to be done, Mr. Bixby was busily +employed all day. But the task was not an unpleasant one. His heart +was in the work, for there was hardly an object in the room not nearly +associated with some event in his past life. After carefully brushing +the dust from an old writing-desk, which had evidently once belonged +to a lady, he placed it upon the rug in front of the fire. Only on +Christmas-eves was this desk opened. + +"It is curious," thought Mr. Bixby, "that I should have moved this +day, of all days in the year!" + +Often in his work he thought of stopping to take from the desk an old +packet of letters, and reading them once more. But it was not yet +time, and, moreover, he was continually interrupted. First, there came +some one to his door with "Two dozen Congress-water for Mr. Bangs;" +then one with "Mr. Bangs's boots," and another to tell Mr. Bangs that +"the pup was big enough to take away." Finally, came Bangs himself, to +complain of like interruptions, and to bid him good-by. + +"Here is some manuscript a boy left for you. You will have to attend +both doors now. I am off to spend Christmas. We are going to have a +Tom-and-Jerry party in Jersey. You know-- + + "'The Tom-and-Jerry days have come, the happiest in the year!' + +"Good rendering, eh? That isn't all: + + "'I only wish to live till the juleps come again!'" + +And Mr. Bangs laughed uproariously, even after he had said, "Good-by," +and shut the door behind him. + +"What a personification of Bacchus!" thought Mr. Bixby-- + + "'Ever laughing, ever young.' + +"He will be young as long as he lives, but I am afraid that won't be +long. If ever there was a man in immediate danger of apoplexy, Bangs +is that man." + +It was after dinner when Mr. Bixby lighted his drop-light and sat down +before the fire. He pushed an ottoman in front of him, on which to +rest his feet, which he had comfortably encased in his slippers. But +the shadows in his new room did not please him. He could hardly see +the clock on the mantel. The Madonna above was completely in the +shade. So he lighted the chandelier above and sat down again, hoping +that no friend, either of his own or of Mr. Bangs, would interrupt +him. The desk was open at his feet. The package of letters lay near +him on the table. He placed his hand upon them, but let it rest there. +The hour had not quite arrived when he would read them. He fell again +into the reveries of the day. He lingered over the thoughts of his +better life ere he opened the packet which told of its end. For +the last ten years he had labored without ambition, and had been +successful. His name was well known as a journalist, and his +salary was ample. Before that time he had striven ambitiously, but +fruitlessly, patiently, but as in a quicksand, until, on a day, he had +none to strive for but himself, and then success had come. Since noon, +seven hours and twenty-nine minutes, said the clock before him. His +anniversary was near. Mr. Bixby drew the letters near him, and untied +the package. Just then there came a knock at his door, and, before he +had determined whether or not he should say, "Come in," the door +opened, and an elderly gentleman stepped into the apartment. Quietly +he came in. There was no sound attending his entrance except the +knock. Mr. Bixby, looking up, saw a man of more than ordinary height, +with countenance rigid and puritanical in expression, as though the +mind which had formed it was one influenced more by justice than +mercy. His eyes were concealed by a pair of colored spectacles, but +these, as they caught and reflected the light, were brighter and more +startling than any eyes could have been. He was dressed in a long +surtout, which he wore closely buttoned, high dickey, and high +black-silk stock, which covered his throat to his chin. His iron-gray +hair was brushed somewhat pompously backward over his forehead, and +his whole effect was that of a gentleman of the generation which wore +bell-crowned hats and carried enormous canes with tassels. But what +attracted Mr. Bixby's particular attention were the wrinkles of his +face. These were in all places where wrinkles should not be. One ran +straight through the centre of his forehead, continuing the line of +the nose upward to the hair. Two others, starting from the bridge of +the nose, ran diagonally down to the nostrils. He was close-shaven, +and his lips were straight and thin. These peculiarities of his +visitor Mr. Bixby had barely time to mark when the gentleman said: + +"Ah, Mr. Bangs, I am glad to find you in!" + +Mr. Bixby never in his life more desired to be alone, and yet there +was something in this old man which so attracted him that he could not +correct his mistake. He felt a sudden fascination and desire to know +more of him. Bangs was away and could not be seen. The gentleman could +not be very well acquainted with Bangs, very probably never had seen +him, or he would not have made such an error. But nothing but the +influence which seemed to proceed from his visitor could have induced +Mr. Bixby to answer as he did. + +"Thank you, sir. Pray, take this chair." + +As he said this, he arose and wheeled an easy-chair to the other side +of the table. + +The elderly gentleman sat down. + +"You have a very cheerful apartment here, Mr. Bangs." + +"Yes. I always like to be comfortable." + +"Of course," said the elderly gentleman. + +"Will you remove your overcoat, sir?" asked Mr. Bixby, and immediately +repented it. + +"Oh, no, I shall stop but a moment." + +There was an interval of silence. A block of coal broke open in the +grate and fell apart. A jet of gas burst forth and burned, then +sputtered and went out. Mr. Bixby wondered on what business he had +come, and why he did not open the subject at once, if he was only +intending to stop a moment. + +"It is very disagreeable weather out," said the man with the pompous +forelock, interrupting his reflections. + +"Snowing?" asked Bixby. + +"No--sleet." + +"Very unpleasant to have far to go such a night," suggested Bixby, +who could think of nothing better to say. + +"Not at all," responded the old gentleman, authoritatively. + +Bixby was silent again. + +The old gentleman, leaning with his elbow on the table, began again. + +"You like to live well, Mr. Bangs?" + +"I try to," answered Mr. Bixby. + +"Yes." + +"This must be some relative of Bangs come to deliver him a lecture on +his course of life. Why don't he broach his advice at once?" thought +Mr. Bixby. The visitor here pulled a glove from his right hand, ran +his fingers through his hair, and then, in a more business-like tone, +spoke again: + +"Although a stranger to you personally, Mr. Bangs, I have always taken +a great interest in your family. Mr. Bangs, I knew your father." + +"Indeed! I never heard him speak--" + +"No, I dare say; it was near the end of his life. I was near by, and +rendered him some assistance, when he died suddenly of apoplexy. He +was not so much of a man as your grandfather." + +"Was he not?" asked Mr. Bixby, musingly. He was thinking how old the +grandfather of his friend Bangs must have been. + +"No," continued the elderly gentleman; "but even his judgment I never +considered equal to that of your great-grandfather." + +"Here is, indeed, a friend--a friend of the family. Why is Mr. Bangs +away?" thought Mr. Bixby, and he bent his head a little, and looked +under the drop-light, to get a view of his visitor. He saw only the +reflection on his spectacles, and drew back suddenly, for fear of +being detected. + +"You like a good song, I have heard, Mr. Bangs," came from the other +side of the table. "Have you any favorite?" + +Mr. Bixby did not understand this at all. The question puzzled him. +Should he as Bangs fall in the estimation of some relative if he +admitted the fact? Or did his visitor intend to sing? However, he felt +compelled to be frank, so he said: + +"Oh, yes; I like a good song. Some of the Scotch ballads please me +most. There is 'The Land o' the Leal.'" + +"A very fine song, sir. A very fine song. It is a credit to any man to +like that song." + +The old gentleman was excited. Mr. Bixby was just congratulating +himself on having given Bangs a lift, when his thoughts were turned +into an altogether new channel by the following remark: + +"It was my impression, however, that your taste ran rather in the way +of drinking-songs. I should have thought now you would have said, 'The +Coal-Black Wine.'" + +There was something in the tone with which this was uttered that made +Mr. Bixby shudder. It ran through his mind that this man was some +enemy of Bangs--that he was dangerous. Startled by this sudden +suspicion, tremblingly he again peered under the shade. The wrinkle +in the line of the frontal suture was more deeply indented. The light +on the spectacles was brighter than ever. + +"Mr. Bangs, I called on your opposite neighbor, Mr. Bixby, to-night. I +knocked on the door, but he was away." + +"Yes," said Mr. Bixby, somewhat confused. He wished that Bangs had +stayed at home, and determined to end the interview as soon as +possible. + +"Yes. I am sorry. I had a positive appointment with him. I am a great +friend of his." + +"Does he know you?" + +"Oh, no; we have never met personally that he remembers. I am an old +friend of the family. He suffers from the heart-disease, and has been +expecting me." + +"Oh, you are a physician?" + +"Yes, sir. I attended his father at his last illness." + +Mr. Bixby's heart began to beat rapidly. His mind became equally +active, and, although he had no experience to be guided by, he began +to suspect the nature of this man's business with Bangs. He almost +determined to discover himself, but the letters were yet unread. If +that were only done, he would do anything his visitor might request. +Recalling the old gentleman's last words, he said, at last, calmly: + +"And his mother?" + +"Yes, and his mother." + +The old man's voice assumed almost a kindly tone. + +"He is, indeed, a friend of my family," thought Mr. Bixby; and then he +started, for fear he might have spoken aloud. + +His eyes fell upon the packet of letters. He must read them. He must +end the interview. The old doctor must have noticed Mr. Bixby's eyes, +with the tears rising in them, as he tenderly touched the letters one +by one, for it was with a voice very gentle and low that he spoke +again. + +"I attended once a very dear friend of his. It must be quite ten years +ago now. Her name was Margaret. I think she loved him, for I +remember--yes--it was one Christmas-eve, she said, and after that she +said no more, 'Has Harry come?'" + +Mr. Bixby could bear no more. His sobs were striving for utterance. +His fingers grasped the strong oak arms of his chair. It was only the +thought of the letters which gave him strength to say: + +"I am sorry, sir. You mistake me. I must ask you to leave me. You may +come again. I shall be here, but I have something I would do to-night. +I have given you much of my time. It is already late." + +"It is you who mistake, Mr. Bangs. But I am going now. I said I would +stop but a moment. I have kept my promise, as you will see by your +clock." + +Before his hands fell listless from the arms of the chair--before his +lips parted, but not for speech--ay, just before that quick, strong +pain in his heart, Mr. Bixby saw on the white dial the black hands yet +pointing to the seven hours and the twenty-nine minutes, the pendulum +moveless, still, half-way on the upward journey of the arc. + +The elderly gentleman arose, walked round the table, and smiled, +himself, as he saw a smile of perfected happiness on the face of the +dead, when so lately sorrow itself had been pictured on the face of +the living. + +"It was hard to deceive him, but he will thank me now," said he of the +gray locks and wrinkled visage. "And here are the letters which he +does not need." + +Had the old man no more appointments to keep? For he took up one of +the letters and opened it. A lock of golden hair fell unnoticed to the +floor. Then he read silently, and, after a while, aloud: + + "I hope you will come and see me on Christmas-eve, for I am + not well. I long for you more than I can say. You must be + tired with your struggle in the great city, and need rest. O + Harry! come and comfort her that loves you, as you well + know. + + "MARGARET." + +The bells of Trinity commenced ringing. + +"He was tired, and he needed rest," said Death. + + + + +ELI. + +BY C. H. WHITE. + +_Century Magazine, November, 1881._ + + + I. + +Under a boat, high and dry, at low tide, on the beach, John Wood was +seated in the sand, sheltered from the sun in the boat's shadow, +absorbed in the laying on of verdigris. The dull, worn color was +rapidly giving place to a brilliant, shining green. Occasionally a +scraper, which lay by, was taken up to remove the last trace of a +barnacle. + +It was Wood's boat, but he was not a boatman; he painted cleverly, but +he was not a painter. He kept the brown store under the elms of the +main street, now hot and still, where at this moment his blushing +sister was captivating the heart of an awkward farmer's boy, as she +sold him a pair of striped suspenders. + +As the church-clock struck the last of twelve decided blows, three +children came rushing out of the house on the bank above the beach. It +was one of those deceptive New England cottages, weather-worn without, +but bright and bountifully home-like within--with its trim parlor, +proud of a cabinet organ; with its front hall, now cooled by the light +sea-breeze drifting through the blind-door, where a tall clock issued +its monotonous call to a siesta on the rattan lounge; with its spare +room, open now, opposite the parlor, and now, too, drawing in the salt +air through close-shut blinds, in anticipation of the joyful arrival +this evening of Sister Sarah, with her little brood, from the city. + +The children scampered across the road, and then the eldest hushed the +others and sent a little brother ahead to steal, barefoot, along the +shining sea-weed to his father. + +The plotted surprise appeared to succeed completely. The painter was +seized by the ears from behind, and captured. + +"Guess who's here, or you can't get up," said the infant captor. + +"It's Napoleon Bonaparte; don't joggle," said his father, running a +brush steadily along the water-line. + +"No! no! no!" with shouts of laughter from the whole attacking party. + +"Then it's Captain Ezekiel?" + +This excited great merriment: Captain Ezekiel was an aged, purblind +man, who leaned on a cane. + +After attempts to identify the invader--with the tax-collector come +for taxes, then with the elderly minister making a pastoral call, with +the formal schoolmaster, and with Samuel J. Tilden--the victim reached +over his shoulder, and, seizing the assailant by a handful of calico +jacket, brought him around, squirming, before him. + +"Now," he said, "I'll give you a coat of verdigris." + +(Great applause from the reserve force behind.) + +"I suppose Mother sent you to say dinner's ready," said the father, +rising and surveying the green bottom of the boat. "I must eat quick, +so as to do the other side before half-flood." + +And with a child on each shoulder, and the third pushing him from +behind with her head, he marched toward the vine-covered kitchen, +where, between two opposite netted doors, the table was trimly set. + +"Father, you look like a mermaid, with your green hands," said his +wife, laughing, as she handed him the spirits of turpentine. "A woman +could paint that boat, in a light dress, and not get a spot on her." + +He smiled good-naturedly: he never spoke much. + +"I guess Louise won't have much trade to-day," said his wife, as they +all sat down; "it's so hot in the sun that everybody'll wait till +night. But she has her tatting-work to do, and she's got a book, too, +that she wanted to finish." + +Her husband nodded, and ate away. + +"Oh, can't we go up street and see her, this afternoon?" said one of +the children. + +"Who can that be?" said the mother, as an elderly, +half-official-looking man stopped his horse at the front gate and +alighted. The man left the horse unchecked to browse by the road-side, +and came to the door. + +"Oh, it's you, Captain Nourse," said Wood, rising to open the netting +door, and holding out his hand. "Come to summons me as a witness in +something about the bank case, I suppose. Let me introduce Captain +Nourse, Mary," he said, "deputy sheriff. Sit down, Captain, and have +some dinner with us." + +"No, I guess I won't set," said the captain. "I cal'lated not to eat +till I got home, in the middle o' the arternoon. No, I'll set down in +eye-shot of the mare, and read the paper while you eat." + +"I hope they don't want me to testify anywhere to-day," said Wood; +"because my boat's half verdigris'd, and I want to finish her this +afternoon." + +"No testimony to-day," said the captain. "Hi! hi! Kitty!" he called to +the mare, as she began to meander across the road; and he went out to +a tree by the front fence, and sat down on a green bench, beside a +work-basket and a half-finished child's dress, and read the country +paper which he had taken from the office as he came along. + +After dinner Wood went out bare-headed, and leaned on the fence by the +captain. His wife stood just inside the door, looking out at them. + +The "bank case" was the great sensation of the town, and Wood was one +of the main witnesses, for he had been taking the place of the absent +cashier when the safe was broken open and rifled, to the widespread +distress of depositors and stock-holders and the ruin of Hon. Edward +Clark, the president. Wood had locked the safe on the afternoon before +the eventful night, and had carried home the key with him, and he was +to testify to the contents of the safe as he had left it. + +"I guess they're glad they've got such a witness as John," said his +wife to herself, as she looked at him fondly, "and I guess they think +there won't be much doubt about what he says." + +"Well, Captain," said Wood, jocosely, breaking a spear of grass to +bits in his fingers, "I didn't know but you'd come to arrest me." + +The captain calmly smiled as only a man can smile who has been +accosted with the same humorous remark a dozen times a day for twenty +years. He folded his paper carefully, put it in his pocket, took off +his spectacles and put them in their silver case, took a red silk +handkerchief from his hat, wiped his face, and put the handkerchief +back. Then he said, shortly: + +"That's what I _have_ come for." + +Wood, still leaning on the fence, looked at him, and said nothing. + +"That's just what I've come for," said Captain Nourse. "I've got to +arrest you; here's the warrant." And he handed it to him. + +"What does this mean?" said Wood. "I can't make head nor tail of +this." + +"Well," said the captain, "the long and short is: these high-toned +detectives that they've had down from town, seein' as our own force +wasn't good enough, allow that the safe was unlocked with a key, in +due form, and then the lock was broke afterward, to look as if it had +been forced open. They've had the foreman of the safe-men down, too, +and he says the same thing. Naturally, the argument is: there were +only two keys in existence; one was safe with the president of the +bank, and is about all he's got to show out of forty years' savings; +the only other one you had: consequently it heaves it on to you." + +"I see," said Wood. "I will go with you. Do you want to come into the +house with me while I get my coat?" + +"Well, I suppose I must keep you in sight--now, you know." + +And they went into the house. + +"Mary," said her husband, "the folks that lost by Clark when the bank +broke have been at him until he's felt obliged to pitch on somebody, +and he's pitched on me; and Captain Nourse has come to arrest me. I +shall get bail before long." + +She said nothing, and did not shed a tear till he was gone. + +But then---- + + + II. + +Wide wastes of salt marsh to the right, imprisoning the upland +with a vain promise of infinite liberty, and, between low, distant +sand-hills, a rim of sea. Stretches of pine woods behind, shutting in +from the great outer world, and soon to darken into evening gloom. +Ploughed fields and elm-dotted pastures to the left, and birch-lined +roads leading by white farm-houses to the village, all speaking +of cheer and freedom to the prosperous and the happy, but to the +unfortunate and the indebted, of meshes invisible but strong as steel. +But, before, no lonesome marshes, no desolate forest, no farm or +village street, but the free blue ocean, rolling and tumbling still +from the force of an expended gale. + +In the open door-way of a little cottage, warmed by the soft slanting +rays of the September sun, a rough man, burnt and freckled, was +sitting, at his feet a net, engaged upon some handiwork which two +little girls were watching. Close by him lay a setter, his nose +between his paws. Occasionally the man raised his eyes to scan the +sea. + +"There's Joel," he said, "comin' in around the Bar. Not much air +stirrin' now!" + +Then he turned to his work again. + +"First, you go _so_ fash'," he said to the children, as he drew a +thread; "then you go _so_ fash'." + +And as he worked he made a great show of labor, much to their +diversion. + +But the sight of Joel's broad white sail had not brought pleasant +thoughts to his mind. For Joel had hailed him, off the Shoal, the +afternoon before, and had obligingly offered to buy his fish, right +there, and so let him go directly home, omitting to mention that +sudden jump of price due to an empty market. + +"Wonder what poor man he's took a dollar out of to-day! Well, I s'pose +it's all right: those that's got money, want money." + +"What be you, Eli--ganging on hooks?" said Aunt Patience, as she +tip-toed into the kitchen behind him, from his wife's sick-room, and +softly closed the door after her. + +"No," said the elder of the children; "he's mending our stockings, and +showing me how." + +"Well, you do have a hard time, don't you?" said Aunt Patience, +looking down over his shoulder; "to slave and tug and scrape to get a +house over your head, and then to have to turn square 'round, and stay +to home with a sick woman, and eat all into it with mortgages!" + +"Oh, well," he said, "we'll fetch, somehow." + +Aunt Patience went to the glass, and holding a black pin in her mouth, +carefully tied the strings of her sun-bonnet. + +"Anyway," she says, "you take it good-natured. Though if there is one +thing that's harder than another, it is to be good-natured all the +time, without being aggravating. I have known men that was so awfully +good-natured that they was harder to live with than if they was +cross!" + +And without specifying further, she opened her plaid parasol, and +stepped out at the porch. + + * * * * * + +Though, on this quiet afternoon of Saturday, the peace of the +approaching Sabbath seemed already brooding over the little dwelling, +peace had not lent her hand to the building of the home. Every foot of +land, every shingle, every nail, had been wrung from the reluctant +sea. Every voyage had contributed something. It was a great day when +Eli was able to buy the land. Then, between two voyages, he dug a +cellar and laid a foundation; then he saved enough to build the main +part of the cottage and to finish the front room, lending his own hand +to the work. Then he used to get letters at every port, telling of +progress--how Lizzie, his wife, had adorned the front room with a +bright nine-penny paper, of which a little piece was inclosed, which +he kept as a sort of charm about him and exhibited to his friends; how +she and her little brother had lathed the entry and the kitchen, and +how they had set out blackberry vines from the woods. Then another +letter told of a surprise awaiting him on his return; and, in due +time, coming home as third mate from Hong Kong to a seaman's +tumultuous welcome, he had found that a great, good-natured mason, +with whose sick child his wife had watched, night after night, had +appeared one day with lime and hair and sand, and in white raiment, +and had plastered the entry and the kitchen, and finished a room +upstairs. + +And so, for years, at home and on the sea, at New York, and at +Valparaiso, and in the Straits of Malacca, the little house and the +little family within it had grown into the fibre of Eli's heart. +Nothing had given him more delight than to meet, in the strange +streets of Calcutta or before the Mosque of Omar, some practical +Yankee from Stonington or Machias, and, whittling, to discuss with +him, among the turbans of the Orient, the comparative value of shaved +and of sawed shingles, or the economy of "Swedes-iron" nails, and to +go over with him the estimates and plans which he had worked out in +his head under all the constellations of the skies. + + * * * * * + +The supper things were cleared away. The children had said good-night +and gone to bed, and Eli had been sitting for an hour by his wife's +bedside. He had had to tax his patience and ingenuity heavily during +the long months that she had lain there to entertain her for a little +while in the evening, after his hard, wet day's work. He had been +talking now of the coming week, when he was to serve upon the jury in +the adjoining county-town. + +"I cal'late I can come home about every night," he said, "and it'll be +quite a change, at any rate." + +"But you don't seem so cheerful about it as I counted you would be," +said his wife. "Are you afraid you'll have to be on the bank-case?" + +"Not much!" he answered. "No trouble 'n that case! Jury won't leave +their seats. These city fellers'll find they've bit off more'n they +can chew when they try to figure out John Wood done that. I only hope +I'll have the luck to be on that case--all hands on the jury whisper +together a minute, and then clear him, right on the spot, and then +shake hands with him all 'round!" + +"But something is worrying you," she said. "What is it? You have +looked it since noon." + +"Oh, nothin'," he replied--"only George Cahoon came up to-noon to say +that he was goin' West next week, and that he would have to have that +money he let me have a while ago. And where to get it--I don't know." + + + III. + +The court-room was packed. John Wood's trial was drawing to its close. +Eli was on the jury. Some one had advised the prosecuting attorney, in +a whisper, to challenge him, but he had shaken his head and said: + +"Oh, I couldn't afford to challenge him for that; it would only leak +out, and set the jury against me. I'll risk his standing out against +this evidence." + +The trial had been short. It had been shown how the little building +of the bank had been entered. Skilled locksmiths from the city had +testified that the safe was opened with a key, and that the lock was +broken afterward, from the inside--plainly to raise the theory of a +forcible entry by strangers. + +It had been proved that the only key in existence, not counting that +kept by the president, was in the possession of Wood, who was filling, +for a few days, the place of the cashier--the president's brother--in +his absence. It had been shown that Wood was met, at one o'clock of +the night in question, crossing the fields toward his home, from the +direction of the bank, with a large wicker basket slung over his +shoulders, returning, as he had said, from eel-spearing in Harlow's +Creek; and there was other circumstantial evidence. + +Mr. Clark, the president of the bank, had won the sympathy of every +one by the modest way in which, with eye-glasses in hand, he had +testified to the particulars of the loss which had left him penniless, +and had ruined others whose little all was in his hands. And then, in +reply to the formal question, he had testified, amid roars of laughter +from the court-room, that it was not he who robbed the safe. At this, +even the judge and Wood's lawyer had not restrained a smile. + +This had left the guilt with Wood. His lawyer, an inexperienced young +attorney--who had done more or less business for the bank, and would +hardly have ventured to defend this case but that the president had +kindly expressed his entire willingness that he should do so--had, of +course, not thought it worthwhile to cross-examine Mr. Clark, and had +directed his whole argument against the theory that the safe had been +opened with a key, and not by strangers. But he had felt all through +that, as a man politely remarked to him when he finished, he was only +butting his "head ag'in a stone wall." + +And while he was arguing, a jolly-looking old lawyer had written, in +the fly-leaf of a law-book on his knee, and passed with a wink to a +young man near him who had that very morning been admitted to the bar, +these lines: + + "When callow Blackstones soar too high, + Quit common-sense, and reckless fly, + Soon, Icarus-like, they headlong fall, + And down come client, case, and all." + +The district-attorney had not thought it worth while to expend much +strength upon his closing argument; but being a jovial stump-speaker, +of a wide reputation within narrow limits, he had not been able to +refrain from making merry over Wood's statement that the basket which +he had been seen bearing home, on the eventful night, was a basket of +eels. + +"Fine eels those, gentlemen! We have seen gold-fish and silver-fish, +but golden eels are first discovered by this defendant. The apostle, +in Holy Writ, caught a fish with a coin in its mouth; but this man +leaves the apostle in the dim distance when he finds eels that are +all money. No storied fisherman of Bagdad, catching enchanted princes +disguised as fishes in the sea, ever hooked such a treasure as this +defendant hooked when he hooked that basket of eels! [Rustling +appreciation of the pun among the jury.] If a squirming, twisting, +winding, wriggling eel, gentlemen, can be said at any given moment to +have a back, we may distinguish this new-found species as the +green-back eel. It is a common saying that no man can hold an eel and +remain a Christian. I should like to have viewed the pious equanimity +of this church-member when he laid his hands on that whole bed of +eels. In happy, barefoot boyhood, gentlemen, we used to find +mud-turtles marked with initials or devices cut in their shells; but +what must have been our friend's surprise to find, in the muddy bed of +Harlow's Creek, eels marked with a steel-engraving of the landing of +Columbus, and the signature of the Register of the Treasury! I hear +that a corporation is now being formed by the title of The Harlow's +Creek Greenback National Bank-bill Eel-fishing Company, to follow up, +with seines and spears, our worthy friend's discovery! I learn that +the news of this rich placer has spread to the golden mountains of the +West, and that the exhausted intellects which have been reduced to +such names for their mines as 'The Tombstone,' 'The Red Dog,' the +'Mrs. E. J. Parkhurst,' are likely now to flood us with prospectuses +of the 'Eel Mine,' 'The Flat Eel,' 'The Double Eel,' and then, when +they get ready to burst upon confiding friends, 'The Consolidated +Eels.'" + +It takes but little to make a school or a court-room laugh, and the +speech had appeared to give a good deal of amusement to the listeners. + +To all? + +Did it amuse that man who sat, with folded arms, harsh and rigid, at +the dock? Did it divert that white-faced woman, cowering in a corner, +listening as in a dream? + + * * * * * + +The judge now charged the jury briefly. It was unnecessary for him, he +said, to recapitulate evidence of so simple a character. The chief +question for the jury was as to the credibility of the witnesses. If +the witnesses for the prosecution were truthful and were not mistaken, +the inference of guilt seemed inevitable; this the defendant's counsel +had conceded. The defendant had proved a good reputation; upon that +point there was only this to be said: that, while such evidence was +entitled to weight, yet, on the other hand, crimes involving a breach +of trust could, from their very nature, be committed only by persons +whose good reputations secured them positions of trust. + + * * * * * + +The jury-room had evidently not been furnished by a ring. There was a +long table for debate, twelve hard chairs for repose, twelve spittoons +for luxury, and a clock. + +The jury sat in silence for a few moments, as old Captain Nourse, who +had them in his keeping, and eyed them as if he was afraid that he +might lose one of them in a crack and be held accountable on his bond, +rattled away at the unruly lock. Looking at them then, you would have +seen faces all of a New England cast but one. There was a tall, +powerful negro called George Washington, a man well known in this +county town, to which he had come, as driftwood from the storm of war, +in '65. Some of the "boys" had heard him, in a great prayer-meeting in +Washington--a city which he always spoke of as his "namesake"--at the +time of the great review, say, in his strong voice, with that pathetic +quaver in it: "Like as de parched an' weary traveller hangs his harp +upon de winder, an' sighs for oysters in de desert, so I longs to res' +my soul an' my foot in Mass'chusetts;" and they were so delighted with +him that they invited him on the spot to go home with them, and took +up a collection to pay his fare, and so he was a public character. As +for his occupation--when the census-taker, with a wink to the boys in +the store, had asked him what it was, he had said, in that same odd +tone: "Putties up glass a little--white-washes a little--" and, when +the man had made a show of writing all that down, "preaches a little." +He might have said "preaches a big," for you could hear him half a +mile away. + +The foreman was a retired sea-captain. "Good cap'n--Cap'n Thomas," +one of his neighbors had said of him. "Allers gits good ships--never +hez to go huntin' 'round for a vessel. But it is astonishin' what +differences they is! Now there's Cap'n A. K. P. Bassett, down to the +West Harbor. You let it git 'round that Cap'n A. K. P. is goin' off on +a Chiny voyage, and you'll see half a dozen old shays to onct, hitched +all along his fence of an arternoon, and wimmen inside the house, to +git Cap'n A. K. P. to take their boys. But you let Cap'n Thomas give +out that he wants boys, and he hez to glean 'em--from the poor-house, +and from step-mothers, and where he can: the wimmen knows! Still," he +added, "Cap'n Thomas's a good cap'n. I've nothin' to say ag'in him. +He's smart!" + + * * * * * + +"Gentlemen," said the foreman, when the officer, at last, had securely +locked them in, "shall we go through the formality of a ballot? If the +case were a less serious one, we might have rendered a verdict in our +seats." + +"What's the use foolin' 'round ballotin'?" said a thick-set butcher. +"Ain't we all o' one mind?" + +"It is for you to say, gentlemen," said the foreman. "I shouldn't want +to have it go abroad that we had not acted formally, if there was any +one disposed to cavil." + +"Mr. Speaker," said George Washington, rising and standing in the +attitude of Webster, "I rises to appoint to order. We took ballast in +de prior cases, and why make flesh of one man an' a fowl of another?" + + +"Very well," said the foreman, a trifle sharply. "'The longest way +round is the shortest way home.'" + +Twelve slips of paper were handed out, to be indorsed guilty, "for +form." They were collected in a hat and the foreman told them +over--"just for form." "'Guilty,' 'guilty,' 'guilty,' 'guilty';--wait +a minute," he said, "here is a mistake. Here is one 'not +guilty'--whose is this?" + +There was a pause. + +"Whose is it?" said the foreman, sharply. + +Eli turned a little red. + +"It's mine," he said. + +"Do you mean it?" said the foreman. + +"Of course I mean it," he answered. + +"Whew!" whistled the foreman. "Very well, sir; we'll have an +understanding, then. This case is proved to the satisfaction of every +man who heard it, I may safely say, but one. Will that one please +state the grounds of his opinion?" + +"I ain't no talker," said Eli, "but I ain't satisfied he's +guilty--that's all." + +"Don't you believe the witnesses?" + +"Mostly." + +"Which one don't you believe?" + +"I can't say. I don't believe he's guilty." + +"Is there one that you think lied?" + +No answer. + +"Now it seems to me----" said a third juryman. + +"One thing at a time, gentlemen," said the foreman. "Let us wait for +an answer from Mr. Smith. Is there any one that you think lied? We +will wait, gentlemen, for an answer." + +There was a long pause. The trial seemed to Eli Smith to have shifted +from the court to this shabby room, and he was now the culprit. + +All waited for him; all eyes were fixed upon him. + +The clock ticked loud! Eli counted the seconds. He knew the +determination of the foreman. + +The silence became intense. + +"I want to say my say," said a short man in a pea-jacket--a retired +San Francisco pilot, named Eldridge. "I entertain no doubt the man is +guilty. At the same time, I allow for differences of opinion. I don't +know this man that's voted 'not guilty,' but he seems to be a +well-meaning man. I don't know his reasons; probably he don't +understand the case. I should like to have the foreman tell the +evidence over, so as if he don't see it clear, he can ask questions, +and we can explain." + +"I second de motion," said George Washington. + +There was a general rustle of approval. + +"I move it," said the pilot, encouraged. + +"Very well, Mr. Eldridge," said the foreman. "If there is no +objection, I will state the evidence, and if there is any loop-hole, I +will trouble Mr. Smith to suggest it as I go along," and he proceeded +to give a summary of the testimony, with homely force. + +"Now, sir?" he said, when he had finished. + +"I move for another ballot," said Mr. Eldridge. + +The result was the same. Eli had voted "not guilty." + +"Mr. Smith," said the foreman, "this must be settled in some way. This +is no child's play. You can't keep eleven men here, trifling with +them, giving no pretence of a reason." + +"I haven't any reasons, only that I don't believe he's guilty," said +Eli. "I'm not goin' to vote a man into states-prison, when I don't +believe he done it," and he rose and walked to the window, and looked +out. It was low tide. There was a broad stretch of mud in the +distance, covered with boats lying over disconsolate. A driving storm +had emptied the streets. He beat upon the rain-dashed glass a moment +with his fingers, and then he sat down again. + +"Well, sir," said the foreman, "this is singular conduct. What do you +propose to do?" + +Silence. + +"I suppose you realize that the rest of us are pretty rapidly forming +a conclusion on this matter," said the foreman. + +"Come! come!" said Mr. Eldridge; "don't be quite so hard on him, +Captain. Now, Mr. Smith," he said, standing up with his hands in his +coat-pockets, and looking at Eli, "we know that there often is crooked +sticks on juries, that hold out alone--that's to be expected; but they +always argue, and stand to it the rest are fools, and all that. Now, +all is, we don't see why you don't sort of argue, if you've got +reasons satisfactory to you. Come, now," he added, walking up to Eli, +and resting one foot on the seat of his chair, "why don't you tell it +over? and if we're wrong, I'm ready to join you." + +Eli looked up at him. + +"Didn't you ever know," he said, "of a man's takin' a cat off, to +lose, that his little girl didn't want drownded, and leavin' him +ashore, twenty or thirty miles, bee-line, from home, and that cat's +bein' back again the next day, purrin' 'round 's if nothin' had +happened?" + +"Yes," said Mr. Eldridge--"knew of just such a case." + +"Very well," said Eli; "how does he find his way home?" + +"Don't know," said Mr. Eldridge; "always has been a standing mystery +to me." + +"Well," said Eli, "mark my words. There's such a thing as arguin', and +there's such a thing as knowin' outright; and when you'll tell me how +that cat inquires his way home, I'll tell you how I know John Wood +ain't guilty." + +This made a certain sensation, and Eli's stock went up. + +An old, withered man rapped on the table. + +"That's so!" he said; "and there's other sing'lar things! How is it +that a sea-farin' man, that's dyin' to home, will allers die on the +ebb-tide? It never fails, but how does it happen? Tell me that! And +there's more ways than one of knowin' things, too!" + +"I know that man ain't guilty," said Eli. + +"Hark ye!" said a dark old man with a troubled face, rising and +pointing his finger toward Eli. "_Know_, you say? I _knew_, wunst. I +_knew_ that my girl, my only child, was good. One night she went off +with a married man that worked in my store, and stole my money--and +where is she now?" And then he added, "What I _know_ is, that every +man hes his price. I hev mine, and you hev yourn!" + +The impugnment of Eli's motives was evident to all. + +"'Xcuse me, Mr. Speaker," said George Washington, rising with his hand +in his bosom; "as de question is befo' us, I wish to say that de las' +bro' mus' have spoken under 'xcitement. Every man _don'_ have his +price! An' I hope de bro' will recant--like as de Psalmist goes out o' +his way to say '_In my haste_ I said, All men are liars.' He was a +very busy man, de Psalmist--writin' down hymns all day, sharpen'n' his +lead-pencil, bossin' 'roun' de choir--callin' Selah! Well, bro'n an' +sisters"--both arms going out, and his voice going up--"one day, seems +like, he was in gre't haste--got to finish a psalm for a monthly +concert, or such--and some man incorrupted him, and lied; and bein' in +gre't haste--and a little old Adam in him--he says, right off, quick: +'_All_ men are liars!' But see--when he gets a little time to set back +and meditate, he says: 'Dis won' do--dere's Moses, an' Job, an' +Paul--dey ain't liars!' An' den he don' sneak out, and 'low he said, +'All men is lions,' or such. No! de Psalmist ain't no such man; but he +owns up, an' 'xplains: '_In my haste_,' he says, 'I said it.'" + +The foreman rose and rapped. + +"I await a motion," said he, "if our friend will allow me the +privilege of speaking." + +Mr. Washington calmly bowed. + +Then the foreman, when nobody seemed disposed to move, speaking +slowly, at first, and piece-meal, alternating language with smoke, +gradually edged into the current of the evidence, and ended by going +all over it again, with fresh force and point. His cigar glowed and +chilled in the darkening room as he talked. + +"Now," he said, when he had drawn all the threads together to the +point of guilt, "what are we going to do upon this evidence?" + +"I'll tell you something," said Eli. "I didn't want to say it because +I know what you'll all think, but I'll tell you, all the same." + +"Ah!" said the foreman. + +Eli stood up and faced the others. + +"'Most all o' you know what our Bar is in a south-east gale. They +ain't a man here that 'uld dare to try and cross it when the sea's +breakin' on it. The man that says he would, lies!" And he looked at +the foreman, and waited a moment. + +"When my wife took sick, and I stopped goin' to sea, two year ago, and +took up boat-fishin', I didn't know half as much about the coast as +the young boys do, and one afternoon it was blowin' a gale, and we +was all hands comin' in, and passin' along the Bar to go sheer 'round +it to the west'ard, and Captain Fred Cook--he's short-sighted--got on +to the Bar before he knew it, and then he had to go ahead, whether or +no; and I was right after him, and I s'posed he knew, and I followed +him. Well, he was floated over, as luck was, all right; but when I'd +just got on the Bar, a roller dropped back and let my bowsprit down +into the sand, and then come up quicker'n lightnin' and shouldered the +boat over, t'other end first, and slung me into the water; and when I +come up, I see somethin' black, and there was John Wood's boat runnin' +by me before the wind with a rush--and 'fore I knew an'thing he had me +by the hair by one hand and in his boat, and we was over the Bar. Now, +I tell you, a man that looks the way I saw him look when I come over +the gunwale, face up, don't go 'round breakin' in and hookin' things. +He hadn't one chance in five, and he was a married man, too, with +small children. And what's more," he added, incautiously, "he didn't +stop there. When he found out, this last spring, that I was goin' to +lose my place, he lent me money enough to pay the interest that was +overdue on the mortgage, of his own acord." + +And he stopped suddenly. + +"You have certainly explained yourself," said the foreman. "I think we +understand you distinctly." + +"There isn't one word of truth in that idea," said Eli, flushing up, +"and you know it. I've paid him back every cent. I know him better'n +any of you, that's all, and when I know he ain't guilty, I won't say +he is; and I can set here as long as any other man." + +"Lively times some folks'll hev, when they go home," said a spare +tin-peddler, stroking his long yellow goatee. "Go into the store: +nobody speak to you; go to cattle-show: everybody follow you 'round; +go to the wharf: nobody weigh your fish; go to buy seed-cakes at the +cart: baker won't give no tick." + +"How much does it cost, Mr. Foreman," said the butcher, "for a man +'t's obliged to leave town, to move a family out West? I only ask for +information. I have known a case where a man had to leave--couldn't +live there no longer--wa'n't wanted." + +There was a knock. An officer, sent by the judge, inquired whether the +jury were likely soon to agree. + +"It rests with you, sir," said the foreman, looking at Eli. + +But Eli sat doggedly with his hands in his pockets, and did not look +up or speak. + +"Say to the judge that I cannot tell," said the foreman. + +It was eight o'clock when the officer returned, with orders to take +the jury across the street to the hotel, to supper. They went out in +pairs, except that the juryman who was left to fall in with Eli made +three with the file ahead, and left Eli to walk alone. This was +noticed by the by standers. At the hotel, Eli could not eat a +mouthful. He was seated at one end of the table, and was left entirely +out of the conversation. When the jury were escorted back to the court +house, rumors had evidently begun to arise from his having walked +alone, for there was quite a little crowd at the hotel-door, to see +them. They went as before: four pairs, a file of three, and Eli alone. +Then the spectators understood it. + + * * * * * + +When the jury were locked into their room again for the night, Mr. +Eldridge sat down by Eli, and lit his pipe. + +"I understand," he said, "just how you feel. Now, between you and me, +there was a good-hearted fellow that kept me out of a bad mess once. +I've never told anybody just what it was, and I don't mean to tell you +now, but it brought my blood up standing, to find how near I'd come to +putting a fine steamer and two hundred and forty passengers under +water. Well, one day, a year or so after that, this man had a chance +to get a good ship, only there was some talk against him, that he +drank a little. Well, the owners told him they wanted to see me, and +he come to me, and says he, 'Mr. Eldridge, I hope you'll speak a good +word for me; if you do, I'll get the ship, but if they refuse me this +one, I'm dished everywhere.' Well, the owners put me the square +question, and I had to tell 'em. Well, I met him that afternoon on +Sacramento Street, as white as a sheet, and he wouldn't speak to me, +but passed right by, and that night he went and shipped before the +mast. That's the last I ever heard of him. But I had to do it. + +"Now," he added, "this man's been good to you; but the case is proved, +and you ought to vote with the rest of us." + +"It ain't proved," said Eli. "The judge said that if any man had a +reasonable doubt, he ought to hold out. Now, I ain't convinced." + +"Well, that's easy said," replied Mr. Eldridge, a little hotly, and he +arose, and left him. + +The jurymen broke up into little knots, tilted their chairs back, +and settled into the easiest positions that their cramped quarters +allowed. Most of them lit their pipes; the captain, and one or two +whom he honored, smoked fragrant cigars, and the room was soon filled +with a dense cloud. + +Eli sat alone by the window. + +"Sometimes sell two at one house," said a lank book-agent, arousing +himself from a reverie; "once sold three." + +"I think the Early Rose is about as profitable as any," said a little +farmer, with a large circular beard. "I used to favor Jacobs's +Seedling, but they haven't done so well with me of late years." + +"Sometimes," said the book-agent, picking his teeth with a quill, +"you'll go to a house, and they'll say they can't be induced to buy a +book of any kind, historical, fictitious, or religious; but you just +keep on talking, and show the pictures--'Grant in Boyhood,' 'Grant a +Tanner,' 'Grant at Head-quarters,' 'Grant in the White House,' 'Grant +before Queen Victoria,' and they warm up, I tell you, and not +infrequently buy." + +"Do you sell de 'Illustrated Bible,'" asked Washington, "wid de +Hypocrypha?" + +"No; I have a more popular treatise--the 'Illustrated History of the +Bible.' Greater variety. Brings in the surrounding nations, in +costume. Cloth, three dollars; sheep, three-fifty; half calf, +five-seventy-five, full morocco, gilt edges, seven-fifty. Six hundred +and seven illustrations on wood and steel. Three different engravings +of Abraham alone. Four of Noah--'Noah before the Flood,' 'Noah +Building the Ark,' 'Noah Welcoming the Dove,' 'Noah on Ararat.' Steel +engraving of Ezekiel's Wheel, explaining prophecy. Jonah under the +gourd, Nineveh in the distance." + +Mr. Eldridge and Captain Thomas had drifted into a discussion of +harbors, and the captain had drawn his chair up to the table, and, +with a cigar in his mouth, was explaining an ingeniously constructed +foreign harbor. He was making a rough sketch, with a pen. + +"Here is north," he said; "here is the coast-line; here are the flats; +here are the sluice-gates; they store the water here, in----" + +Some of the younger men had their heads together, in a corner, about +the tin-peddler, who was telling stories of people he had met in his +journeys, which brought out repeated bursts of laughter. + +In the corner farthest from Eli, a delicate-looking man began to tell +the butcher about Eli's wife. + +"Twelve years ago this fall," he said, "I taught district-school in +the parish where she lived. She was about fourteen then. Her father +was a poor farmer, without any faculty. Her mother was dead, and she +kept house. I stayed there one week, boarding 'round." + +"Prob'ly didn't git not much of any fresh meat that week," suggested +the butcher. + +"She never said much, but it used to divert me to see her order around +her big brothers, just as if she was their mother. She and I got to be +great friends; but she was a queer piece. One day at school, the girls +in her row were communicating, and annoying me, while the third class +was reciting in 'First Steps in Numbers,' and I was so incensed that I +called Lizzie--that's her name--right out, and had her stand up for +twenty minutes. She was a shy little thing, and set great store by +perfect marks. I saw that she was troubled a good deal, to have all of +them looking and laughing at her. But she stood there, with her hands +folded behind her, and not a smile or a word." + +"Look out for a sullen cow," said the butcher. + +"I felt afraid I had been too hasty with her, and I was rather sorry I +had been so decided--although, to be sure, she didn't pretend to deny +that she had been communicating." + +"Of course," said the butcher: "no use lyin' when you're caught in the +act." + +"Well, after school, she stayed at her desk, fixing her dinner-pail, +and putting her books in a strap, and all that, till all the rest had +gone, and then she came up to my desk, where I was correcting +compositions." + +"Now for music!" said the butcher. + +"She had been crying a little. Well, she looked straight in my face, +and said she, 'Mr. Pollard, I just wanted to say to you that I wasn't +doing anything at all when you called me up;' and off she went. Now, +that was just like her--too proud to say a word before the school." + +But here his listener's attention was diverted by the voice of the +book-agent: + +"The very best Bible for teachers, of course, is the limp-cover, +protected edges, full Levant morocco, Oxford, silk-sewed, kid-lined, +Bishop's Divinity Circuit, with concordance, maps of the Holy Land, +weights, measures, and money-tables of the Jews. Nothing like having a +really----" + +"And so," said the captain, moving back his chair, "they let on the +whole head of water, and scour out the channel to a T." + +And then he rapped upon the table. + +"Gentlemen," he said, "please draw your chairs up, and let us take +another ballot." + +The count resulted as before. The foreman muttered something which had +a scriptural sound. + +In a few moments, he drew Mr. Eldridge and two others aside. +"Gentlemen," he said to them, "I shall quietly divide the jury into +watches, under your charge: ten can sleep, while one wakes to keep Mr. +Smith discussing the question. I don't propose to have the night +wasted." + +And, by one man or another, Eli was kept awake. + + * * * * * + +"I don't see," said the book-agent, "why you should feel obliged to +stick it out any longer. Of course, you are under obligations. But +you've done more than enough already, so as that he can't complain of +you, and if you give in now, everybody'll give you credit for trying +to save your friend, on the one hand, and, on the other hand, for +giving in to the evidence. So you'll get credit both ways." + +An hour later, the tin-peddler came on duty. He had not followed +closely the story about John Wood's loan, and had got it a little +awry. + +"Now, how foolish you be," he said, in a confidential tone. "Can't +you see that if you cave in now, after stan'in' out nine hours"--and +he looked at a silver watch with a brass chain, and stroked his +goatee--"nine hours and twenty-seven minutes--that you've made jest +rumpus enough so as't he won't dare to foreclose on you, for fear +they'll say you went back on a trade. On t'other hand, if you hold +clear out, he'll turn you out-o'-doors to-morrow, for a blind, so 's +to look as if there wa'n't no trade between you. Once he gits off, he +won't know Joseph, you bet! That's what I'd do," he added, with a sly +laugh. "Take your uncle's advice." + +"The only trouble with that," said Eli, shortly, "is that I don't owe +him anything." + +"Oh," said the peddler; "that makes a difference. I understood you +did." + +Three o'clock came, and brought Mr. Eldridge. He found Eli worn out +with excitement. + +"Now I don't judge you the way the others do," said Mr. Eldridge, in a +low tone, with his hand on Eli's knee. "I know, as I told you, just +the way you feel. But we can't help such things. Suppose, now, that +I had kept dark, and allowed to the owners that that man was always +sober, and I had heard, six months after, of thirty or forty men going +to the bottom because the captain was a little off his base; and then +to think of their wives and children at home. We have to do some hard +things; but I say, do the square thing, and let her slide." + +"But I can't believe he's guilty," said Eli. + +"But don't you allow," said Mr. Eldridge, "that eleven men are more +sure to hit it right than one man?" + +"Yes," said Eli, reluctantly, "as a general thing." + +"Well, there's always got to be some give to a jury, just as in +everything else, and you ought to lay right down on the rest of us. It +isn't as if we were at all squirmish. Now, you know that if you hold +out, he'll be tried again." + +"Yes, I suppose so." + +"Got to be--no other way," said Mr Eldridge. "Now, the next time, +there won't be anybody like you to stand out, and the judge'll know +of this scrape, and he'll just sock it to him." + +Eli turned uneasily in his chair. + +"And then it won't be understood in your place, and folks'll turn +against you every way, and, what's worse, let you alone." + +"I can stand it," said Eli, angrily. "Let 'em do as they like. They +can't kill me." + +"They can kill your wife and break down your children," said Mr. +Eldridge. "Women and children can't stand it. Now there's that man +they were speaking of; he lived down my way. He sued a poor, shiftless +fellow that had come from Pennsylvania to his daughter's funeral, and +had him arrested and taken off, crying, just before the funeral +begun--after they'd even set the flowers on the coffin; and nobody'd +speak to him after that--they just let him alone; and after a while +his wife took sick of it--she was a nice, kindly woman--and she had +sort of hysterics, and, finally, he moved off West. And 'twasn't long +before the woman died. Now, you can't undertake to do different from +everybody else." + +"Well," said Eli; "I know I wish it was done with." + +Mr. Eldridge stretched his arms and yawned. Then he began to walk up +and down, and hum, out of tune. Then he stopped at Captain Thomas's +chair. + +"Suppose we try a ballot," he said. "He seems to give a little." + +In a moment the foreman rapped. + +"It is time we were taking another ballot, gentlemen," he said. + +The sleepers rose, grumbling, from uneasy dreams. + +"I will write 'guilty' on twelve ballots," said the foreman, "and if +any one desires to write in 'not,' of course he can." + +When the hat came to Eli, he took one of the ballots and held it in +his hand a moment; and then he laid it on the table. There was a +general murmur. The picture which Mr. Eldridge had drawn loomed up +before him. But with a hasty hand he wrote in "not," dropped in the +ballot, and going back to his chair by the window, sat down. + +There was a cold wave of silence. + +Then Eli suddenly walked up to the foreman and faced him. + +"Now," he said, "we'll stop. The very next turn breaks ground. If you, +or any other man that you set on, tries to talk to me when I don't +want to hear, to worry me to death--look out!" + +How the long hours wore on! How easy, sometimes, to resist an open +pressure, and how hard, with the resistance gone, to fight, as one +that beats the air! How the prospect of a whole hostile town loomed +up, in a mirage, before Eli! And then the picture rose before him of a +long, stately bark, now building, whose owner had asked him yesterday +to be first mate. And if his wife were only well, and he were only +free from this night's trouble, how soon, upon the long, green waves, +he could begin to redeem his little home! + +And then came Mr. Eldridge, kind and friendly, to have another little +chat. + + * * * * * + +Morning came, cold and drizzly. An officer knocked at the door, and +called out, "Breakfast." And, in a moment, unwashed, and all uncombed, +except the tin-peddler, who always carried a beard-comb in his pocket, +they were marched across the street to the hotel. + +There were a number of men on the piazza waiting to see them--jurymen, +witnesses, and the accused himself, for he was on bail. He had seen +the procession the night before, and, like the others, had read its +meaning. + +"Eli knows I wouldn't do it," he had said to himself, "and he's going +to hang out, sure." + +The jury began to turn from the court-house door. Everybody looked. A +file of two men, another file, another, another; would there come +three men, and then one? No; Eli no longer walked alone. + +Everybody looked at Wood; he turned sharply away. + +But this time the order of march in fact showed nothing, one way or +the other. It only meant that the judge, who had happened to see the +jury the night before returning from their supper, had sent for the +high sheriff in some temper--for judges are human--and had vigorously +intimated that if that statesman did not look after his fool of a +deputy, who let a jury parade secrets to the public view, he +would----! + + * * * * * + +The jury were in their room again. At nine o'clock came a rap, and a +summons from the court. + +The prosecuting attorney was speaking with the judge when they went +in. In a moment he took his seat. + +"John Wood!" called out the clerk, and the defendant arose. His +attorney was not there. + +"Mr. Foreman!" said the judge, rising. The jury arose. The silence of +the crowded court-room was intense. + +"Before the clerk asks you for a verdict, gentlemen," said the judge, +"I have something of the first importance to say to you, which has but +this moment come to my knowledge." + +Eli changed color, and the whole court-room looked at him. + +"There were some most singular rumors, after the case was given to +you, gentlemen, to the effect that there had been in this cause a +criminal abuse of justice. It is painful to suspect, and shocking to +know, that courts and juries are liable ever to suffer by such +unprincipled practices. After ten years upon the bench, I never +witness a conviction of crime without pain; but that pain is light, +compared with the distress of knowing of a wilful perversion of +justice. It is a relief to me to be able to say to you that such +instances are, in my judgment, exceedingly rare, and--so keen is the +awful searching power of truth--are almost invariably discovered." + +The foreman touched his neighbor with his elbow. Eli folded his arms. + +"As I said," continued the judge, "there were most singular rumors. +During the evening and the night, rumor, as is often the case, led to +evidence, and evidence has led to confession and to certainty. And the +district attorney now desires me to say to you that the chief officer +of the bank--who held the second key to the safe--is now under arrest +for a heavy defalcation, which a sham robbery was to conceal, and that +you may find the prisoner at the bar--not guilty. I congratulate you, +gentlemen, that you had not rendered an adverse verdict." + +"Your Honor!" said Eli; and he cleared his throat; "I desire it to be +known that, even as the case stood last night, this jury had not +agreed to convict, and never would have!" + +There was a hush, while a loud scratching pen indorsed the record of +acquittal. Then Wood walked down to the jury-box and took Eli's hand. + +"Just what I told my wife all through," he said. "I knew you'd hang +out!" + + * * * * * + +Eli's jury was excused for the rest of the day, and by noon he was in +his own village, relieved, too, of his most pressing burden: for +George Cahoon had met him on the road, and told him that he was not +going to the West, after all, for the present, and should not need his +money. But, as he turned the bend of the road and neared his house, he +felt a rising fear that some disturbing rumor might have reached his +wife about his action on the jury. And, to his distress and amazement, +there she was, sitting in a chair at the door. + +"Lizzie!" he said, "what does this mean? Are you crazy?" + +"I'll tell you what it means," she said, as she stood up with a little +smile and clasped her hands behind her. "This morning, it got around +and came to me that you was standing out all alone for John Wood, and +that the talk was that they'd be down on you, and drive you out of +town, and that everybody pitied _me--pitied me_! And when I heard +that, I thought I'd see! And my strength seemed to come all back, and +I got right up, and dressed myself. And what's more, I'm going to get +well now!" + +And she did. + + + + +YOUNG STRONG OF "THE CLARION." + +BY MILICENT WASHBURN SHINN. + +_Overland Monthly, September, 1884._ + + +If you had asked any resident of Green's Ferry some eight years +ago--say, in '76--who were the leading men of his town, he would +doubtless have begun: + +"Well, there's Judge Garvey, of course. Then there's Uncle Billy +Green, who built the first shanty there in '49, and young Strong of +'The Clarion'--" + +However he might continue his enumeration, it would certainly +have been as above for the first three names. One you would have +recognized, if you had been following State politics closely for some +years; for Judge Garvey was very regularly chosen State senator in his +district, and had held the barren honor of presidential elector the +last time his party carried the State. In '76, some of the papers were +urging his nomination for Congress, and politicians thought his +chance of such a nomination increasing. It has not turned out so; his +name has quite dropped out of the papers, and it is said he does not +certainly control his own county now; but at that time he was the most +potent political influence in three counties. What he influenced them +to, I never clearly understood, for I cannot recall that I ever heard +his name mentioned in connection with any measure or opinion. + +A file of "The Clarion" during the four years that young Strong was +editor would doubtless throw light on the matter. "The Clarion" was at +this time a sort of voice crying in the wilderness about Reform, which +was a very new idea, indeed, to its readers. Garvey did not like the +paper, and young Strong disliked Garvey very much; but the two men had +kept on fairly good terms--not so rigid good terms, of course, as to +forbid their expressing to third parties the frankest contempt for +each other. The Judge had here the advantage, for Strong despised him +indignantly, as a knave, while he despised Strong--or said he +did--pityingly, as a fool. He must, however, have at bottom honored +the young fellow with some serious antipathy; for it was after all no +laughing matter that a boy of twenty-five should come into "his Gaul, +which he had conquered by arms," and filch away his home paper from +under his very eyes. Moreover, though people read the editorials, +laughed, and voted with the Judge just the same--they still did read +them. However, Judge Garvey certainly was more civil to Strong than +Strong was to him. + +As for Uncle Billy Green, his rank was due not only to his connection +with the "first shanty" (a house of entertainment at the point where +a trail turned from the river toward the mines), but to his having +remained steadily on the spot ever since, putting up a larger +building at intervals as the settlement gathered around him, until +now he was proprietor of the American Eagle Hotel, a house of goodly +dimensions and generous equipment--billiard-room, bowling alley, +shooting-gallery. Nor did Uncle Billy Green own and conduct this house +in a purely business spirit; a more modest one would have been more +profitable; he liked to "do that much for the town." A man by the name +of Gulliver had established the old rope-ferry, before the day of +bridges, but it was naturally called Green's Ferry, being a ferry at +Green's place. He had been of an undoubted valor in the Indian fights +of early days, was full of reminiscences, had no personal objections +to anybody or anything, and had long given over to Judge Garvey the +trouble of forming his opinions. + +Judge Garvey and young Strong were pretty sure to be put upon such +boards or committees as the local affairs of the small town demanded; +and in local matters they proved to pull together fairly well, however +at odds they were politically. But in the end it was not over +politics, but over the district school, that they fell out squarely. +They were both trustees, and as Green was the third, the board seemed +in little danger from any too radical reforming tendencies young +Strong might be guilty of, and the Judge had no thought of danger as +he walked down to "The Clarion" office, a breathless September +afternoon, a couple of days before the school should open. + +He found young Strong in his editorial room. This was a corner of the +printing-office, fenced off by a great screen pasted over with old +exchanges. Behind this, Strong sat at his table, correcting proof +energetically. It was evident that he took the editing of this little +four-page weekly rather seriously--but, then, a man must needs be +business-like to produce even four pages weekly with one assistant, +and Strong had to economize time enough from strictly editorial +functions to do a goodly share of type-setting and the rest of the +mechanics of the office. + +"I beg your pardon for interrupting you, Mr. Strong," said the Judge. +"I perceive you are arduously occupied. But it becomes necessary to +confer with you with regard to the school-teacher." + +The Judge was a tall and vigorously built man--a little red-faced, but +good-looking, if one did not insist on too fine a definiteness of +outline. He spoke habitually with a certain inflation of manner, and +tried to form himself upon a Southern type that was pretty abundant in +our politics some years earlier. He was, however, a native of rural +New York, early transplanted to California. + +Strong turned in his chair, and sitting sidewise, rested his elbow on +the proof-sheets, holding the pencil still in his fingers. + +"Well?" he said. "I thought everything was settled." + +"Assuredly." Judge Garvey rested his folded arms upon the pile of +books stacked at the rear of the table, and leaned over them in a +friendly way. "Mr. Coakley is to arrive Sunday evening, and will +begin the term on Monday morning, to the great satisfaction, I +can guarantee, of all concerned. A slight and merely temporary +embarrassment has arisen, with respect to which a few words will +make it all right. In point of fact, the young woman with whom we +previously held correspondence--who, you will remember, broke her +engagement with us to take a more advantageous position--is here." + +The Judge stopped for question or comment, but as Strong waited for +explanation, he went on: + +"She has, it appears, failed after all to secure that, and come here +expecting to fall back upon our school, not having heard that it was +engaged." + +"Well, that's unfortunate for her," said Strong, "but you can't ship +Coakley now." + +"Your views coincide exactly with my own, my dear sir." The Judge +straightened up with some relief. "I have only to ask, then, for a +note to the lady to that effect, that my own explanation already given +may be corroborated." + +Strong began to look alert and suspicious at this. + +"Views coincide?" he said. "What two views could there be? What does +she say brought her here?" + +"She's got an idea that she's got first claim on the place," said the +Judge, plumping suddenly into colloquial diction. He had a trick of +doing so when he got down to business. It would have had something the +effect of candid confession, produced by a maiden's plain-hair days +alternated with her waved-hair days, had not the grandiloquence of +tone and manner become so far second nature that it ran through both +his dialects, and lessened the contrast. "You can't always make a +woman see sense." + +Strong looked suspiciously at him a few seconds. "Well, I'll go see +her this evening," he said. "Where's she staying?" + +"That is a totally superfluous tax on your time, my dear Strong," said +the Judge, leaning persuasively across the books again. "I have here +a mere formal line, stating that Coakley is the regularly engaged +teacher of the school, and will begin next Monday; your signature +to it--Green's and mine are already there--will be all that is +necessary." He pushed pen and ink toward Strong with his exaggerated +air of courtesy. + +"Oh, I'm not going to sign things that way, you know. I'll go see +her." He turned and drew his proof-sheets to him with an air of +dismissal. + +The Judge stood up very straight, expanded his chest, and folded his +arms according to his conception of the Virginian manner. "Am I to +understand, sir, that you question my veracity?" + +"I don't question anything," said the young man, impatiently. "I'll +know what I'm talking about when I've seen her." + +"Permit me to suggest, sir"--the Judge was approaching his platform +manner--"permit me to suggest, sir, that Mr. Green and myself +constitute a majority of the board, and Mr. Green, sir--Uncle Billy +Green--has confidence in my honor, and will sustain my action, +whatever line you may be persuaded to adopt." + +"Oh, as to that," said Strong, exaggerating his crispness of manner in +protest against the Judge's staginess, "I'm clerk of the board, and +you can't hold a legal meeting nor pay a salary without me. What's the +reason you don't want me to see her?" + +Judge Garvey unfolded his arms, fell back a step, and dropped easily +into the sonorous declamation that made the stalwart Judge no +inconspicuous figure on the floor of the Legislature. The newspapers, +of course, were responsible for his language--as for the rest of +his education; but such as it was, he used it fluently, and the +declamatory manner was, to his constituency, quite an essential of +eloquence--the prime difference, in fact, between oratory and plain +talking. + +"You cast aspersions upon my honor, sir. Through me you insult the +people of Green's Ferry--of this county--of this district--the +enlightened and honorable constituency who it is my proud honor to +represent. I sco-r-n to answer your insinuations, sir. They will +be hurled back upon yourself by the united voice and righteous +indignation of my justly aroused fellow-townsmen, by the voters of +this noble district--I may say, by the whole State of California--to +which I am not unknown, sir." + +Half-a-dozen of the justly aroused fellow-townsmen were straggling in +from the street, for in Green's Ferry a sprinkling of the citizens +spend the warm afternoons sitting in absolute tranquillity on boxes +and barrels here and there, under the awnings of the several business +blocks; and the knowledge that a row was at last on between Judge +Garvey and young Strong reached them at the first peal. The Judge, +alive to the increase of his audience, raised his voice a shade, and +went on with a curious mixture of complacency and genuine wrath. + +"Is it lack of confidence that has sent me to represent my honorable +constituency in the legislative halls of California, Mr. Strong? Have +I received that proud token of esteem only to be insulted by one whose +obscurity is his only shield; who, with unknown record, with no +recommendation save his own overwhelming self-esteem, comes among us +to sow dissent in peaceful counsels, and draw scorn and contempt upon +his own head by impotent and futile attacks upon those whom he is +powerless to harm?" + +This rounded the climax well, so the Judge only added: "The call you +propose, sir, I shall regard as a direct insult to myself," and strode +dramatically from the room. + +The papered screen went crashing to the floor behind him. The justly +aroused fellow-townsmen looked after him, laughing but admiring. + +"Laid you out, didn't he, Strong?" + +"That's the way he does it at Sacramento. Oh, the Judge is a real +orator--there's no doubt of that." + +"_He_ don't have to make his speech up before-hand. No, sir, right +where he is, any time of day, he just turns the faucet, and there it +comes." + +"What was the row, anyway, Strong?" + +"I don't know myself; something about a teacher--he began to bluster +all of a sudden." Strong walked over to the screen, picked it up, set +it straight along a crack with intense precision, and went back to his +seat. "Drunk, isn't he? I haven't heard him take the stump that way +since election. He's always made rather a point of not quarrelling +with me, too." + +"Oh, he's no drunker'n usual," answered with candor a fellow-townsman. +"The Judge ain't really himself until he's a little off. He didn't +blow so without some reason; don't you fool yourself--not if _I_ know +the man." + +"Well, if he's got any game he must have come to his last chance in +it, to try bullying on _me_," said Strong; and then another of the +group asked: + +"What row could there be about a teacher, Strong? Thought you'd given +him his man." + +The pencil rolled from the edge of the table across the floor at +Strong's movement of attention. "Coakley?--what of him?" + +The man began to laugh, and one or two others joined in. One of them +said a little offensively: "Pretty good on you, youngster! You took +too big a contract for your age when you undertook to keep up with +Judge Garvey. He'll give you odds and take you in, every time." + +Strong reddened a little, but waited to be answered with very fair +composure. + +"Didn't you really know, Strong? The Judge scored one on you that +time, then. Why, he's been Garvey's man in Sierra Township one or two +elections now. Used to be a Millerite preacher, before your day, but +he broke down at that. Good hand in county politics, but he's always +completely out of business between times. Why you remember him, +Strong--he was round with the Judge election times--cross-eyed fellow, +with black siders." + +"_That_ fellow? Why, he can't spell straight! The way of it was, Judge +Garvey told us only Tuesday that the teacher we'd got--first-rate +certificates--had backed out; and we couldn't put off beginning school +any longer, nor hear of any teacher to be had; so when he produced +this man, we had really no choice. I suppose I needn't ask where he +got his certificates." + +"No--Garvey's solid with this county board and superintendent." + +"Disgraceful!" said Strong; whereat all laughed, except one who had +lost a ranch a few years before during business dealings with the +Judge. + +"Oh, he's a scamp--I wouldn't trust him out of sight with his baby's +silver mug," said this man, with feeling. The rest laughed again. In +Green's Ferry a certain easy-going good-heartedness is required by the +public conscience, rather than decalogue virtues. Garvey liked sharp +practice--all right; if you were yourself hurt, you would naturally +begin to vote against him; otherwise, it was none of your business, +except as successful rascality had a claim on your admiration. Young +Strong liked to write furious reform editorials--all right; if you +were the one hit, you would swear at Strong and stop your subscription +until a hit on some one else made you renew it; otherwise, it was none +of your business and lively reading. They leaned against the wall and +desk, and began with perfect good-nature to tell stories of the Judge. +"R'member the time he got that Mexican ranch? Fellow thought it was a +bill of sale for thirty acres he was signing, and it was three +hundred." + +"Best thing was when he made old man Meeker believe he was dying, and +deed over a good fifty thousand dollars in stock to his daughter--and +married the girl, sir, before the old fellow found he was good for +twenty years more. He made the air smell of brimstone the rest of his +life if you mentioned Garvey to him! Drowned in a ford a winter or two +later, after all. Used to live in a little shanty up Indian Crick and +raise potatoes--and Garvey sent him a cow--cheekiest thing!" + +Strong turned sharply away from the laugh that followed, and went on +with his work, while they slowly dispersed. He worked on savagely with +brows drawn together. "It isn't so much the existence of scoundrels +like Garvey that gets me," he was saying to himself, "as the way the +whole crowd of them take him." He stopped to read over the words he +was correcting--they were editorial: + +"Was ever folly greater than this of our community, in dropping +everything else to run after money. For what do you expect to do with +it when you get it? Better eating, and drinking, and the privilege of +being toadied to by those who want to make something out of you--what +more can you get out of money, if you have never made anything of +_yourself_? Just as a pig, if he might take his choice whether he +would be turned into a man or would be moved into a cosier sty, with +more unbounded swill, would doubtless choose the sty!" + +"My broom against the ocean," he said; but he went on correcting +doggedly. + +And, not to conceal from you what was in reality the most significant +fact about Will Strong--the key to about everything he thought and +did--he was mentally submitting this editorial, as he had submitted +every other he had written, to the test of the probable opinion of +a young woman he had not seen nor heard from for two years, but +who nevertheless constituted to his mind the chief motive for +existence--if not the chief and sufficient explanation of the human +race's having been created at all. You must realize, before trying to +understand his story, that Will Strong was really a very romantic +young man indeed, though he pretended to Green's Ferry that he was +not. + +Outside the screen, the strips of sun through the western window and +open door lengthened across the meagre collection of dusty fonts of +type, the small press, the piles of papers. The black-fingered, +red-haired boy setting type among them reflected that it must be +nearly dinner-time, and turned to see how far in the hot strips had +crept--turned, and stood staring; for he met squarely the inquiring +look of a pair of clear eyes, and became aware of a lady in the +door-way. + +It is probable that Jim had never dreamed in his life of any other +social distinction than that between rich and poor, notorious and +obscure, nor was he a lad of perceptions; yet he knew at once that +this was a very unusual sort of lady for Green's Ferry. If he had been +a man of the social world he would have known that she was a +gentlewoman of notably high-bred appearance. She glanced, not without +dismay, about the shabby work-room, as if she felt herself where she +had no business to be. Nevertheless, she came forward frankly, and +asked in the friendly way of one whose station needs no asserting: + +"Mr. Strong?--one of the school-board?--Is he here?" + +"Yes'm." The boy made no motion, but stood blankly staring. + +"May I see him, please?" + +"Lady to see you, Mr. Strong," shouted Jim, standing still. + +In the few seconds before Strong emerged, the lady stood her ground in +the middle of the floor, with some appearance of anxiety. She was +certainly a very noticeable person, and came nearer to warranting that +strong word "beautiful" than falls often to the lot of woman. It was a +matter of outline more than color, however, for she had not much of +that about her--brown hair, blue-gray eyes, skin of a warm paleness. +All this low coloring, however, was so perfect of its sort, that it +gave something the effect of a fine etching--a rich distinctness +attained by shades, not colors. Instead of being outshone by more +brilliant-hued women, Miss Northrop had always had the effect of +making them look chromo-like. So, too, a certain nobility and +self-forgetfulness of manner made the more elaborate manners of others +seem the crude device of inferiority. It was a good deal due to +her eyes; she had most wonderful eyes, and I doubt if any man or +many women ever met them in a full look without feeling a little +stir of pulse--whether it was in the lashes, or in the sweet +straightforwardness of look, utterly devoid of coquetry, or in the +depth of the gray, or in what; certain it is that no one ever saw Miss +Northrop without talking of her beautiful eyes. + +"A lady to see him?" The word in Green's Ferry defined only the sex. +Some one with a notice of a flock of sheep for sale, which she wanted +to get in as a local; or with an ill-spelled poem; or--by George, +yes--that school-mistress. Lucky she had not met Garvey there--poor +girl! Strong laid his pencil down, and came out from behind the screen +good-naturedly enough--and stopped short. What a thing to happen to a +man, that he should live and move and have his being for a dozen years +in the thought of one woman, should count a world worth living in +because she was somewhere on it, and a pitiful human race worth +working for because they were her fellow-creatures--and should come +out from behind his screen, and see her before his eyes--on his dingy +work-room floor--out of her four thousand miles' distance! + +They had been four years schoolmates in a New England High School. +Will was a farmer's lad, from an outlying, rocky village, who worked +for his board while he went to school. He came of an unschooled, +hard-working, God-fearing yeoman race. Winifred could look up every +line of her descent, through vista of governors, college-presidents, +and ministers, back to Colonial aristocracy and gentry beyond sea. +Her great-grandfathers had carried swords in Revolutionary battles, +where Will's had followed with muskets. Winifred herself was +one of those flowers into which excellent family trees break +occasionally--flowers so lovely that no excellence of the tree seems +enough to account for them. If she had any core of aristocratic +coldness, it was so overlaid by a sweet humaneness, a frank generosity +of impulse, that no one would have known it. If she had been a man, to +have a valet, she would have been a hero to him. + +Even in the democracy of school, Will Strong knew well enough the +difference between his shy awkwardness and her pleasant frankness; and +knew that though he could meet school requirements about as well as +she, yet his mental range was crude and narrow beside hers; and any +one could see that in the town where he was an unknown boy she was an +important young lady. These things would not have counted for much had +not some mediaeval follower of some exiled king dropped down into the +boy's temperament that passion of self-abasing loyalty that is rather +an anachronism in our democratic days. They had been on terms of +friendliness rather than friendship in school, but that was due more +to his shyness than anything else. She had really given to him more +opportunities than to most of her schoolmates; she liked his integrity +and earnestness. + +He had looked to college as the natural door between his world and +hers; after four years at New Haven he might seek her acquaintance +without audacity. To that end he had laboriously accumulated money, +and had even passed his matriculation, when his father's death made +him indispensable on the poor little farm. Since then he had doggedly +plodded alone through the college curriculum, but without finding in +it the mysterious pass-word that he had expected into the intellectual +aristocracy. Some two years before, his mother's death and the growing +up of younger brothers had left him free to seek his fortune in +California. At twenty-seven he had lost his fresh look and boyish +shyness; he looked older than he was, but he was really very youthful, +and believed in all sorts of abstractions beginning with capitals. +His mental furniture, being obtained from books, not people, was not +quite in the style of the present decade, and he read Carlyle and +Emerson more than Herbert Spencer. His creed had, therefore, quite +transcendentalism enough to accommodate without incongruity his little +private deification. + +Once in every year or two, as opportunity took him near her home, he +had called on her, and had multiplied each call mightily by thinking +of it before and after. He had also kept up a stupid correspondence +with a schoolmate who had lived in the same town with her, for the +chance of her name being mentioned. Within a couple of years, however, +she had lost her father and gone to relatives in New York, so he had +lost exact knowledge even of her whereabouts. + +She spoke before he had found his voice--without an instant's +hesitation, indeed. "Oh, Will Strong!" she cried, stepping quickly +toward him and holding out her hand. "I _hoped_ it was you!" + +He took the offered hand, and said to himself that his own was +consecrated by the touch to clean deeds forever. He would not have +known how to address her, but he followed her leading. + +"It is Winifred Northrop!" he said. "What is it? Can I do something +for you?" + +"You are school-committee man, are you not?" Anxiety, relief, and +trust mingled in her voice. + +"Trustee--yes. Why," he cried, "it isn't possible that _you_ are the +lady!" + +She laughed. "I suppose the lady must be I." + +He did not smile. He even lost color with wrath. "Garvey has dared to +play you some trick!--I did not dream--" he went on, eagerly, "Garvey +kept the letters in his hands, and bungled over the name, so I did not +once fairly catch it." + +He turned back to his corner, and put the remaining bit of proof into +his pocket. New heavens and new earth had come into existence since +the last pencil mark on it. + +"Jim," he said, "I'm called off on school-business. You get as much of +that set up as you can before dinner, and then lock up; and I'll come +down and make the corrections in the editorials before I go to bed. +Now--Winifred--if I may walk home with you, we'll get to the bottom +of Garvey's tricks. Villain!" + +The epithet was so fervent, and so entirely without humorous intent, +that Miss Northrop laughed again as they walked out into the dull, hot +September afternoon sun. The board sidewalk was uneven and full of +projecting nails and splinters, and she held her thin, blue-gray dress +prettily aside from them; Will noted the gesture with admiration as +intense as unreasonable. It seemed to him peculiarly admirable that +she should draw her hat a little forward to shade her eyes, and should +take just the length of step that she did; the absolutely right step +for a lady was thenceforth settled; since then, he has insisted +unreasonably upon a certain shade as the only right thing in gray, as +if he held in his own mind some positive standard beyond the realm of +variable taste. + +The two or three business blocks--rows of slight frame-buildings, more +of them saloons than would seem possible--were very quiet; Green's +Ferry is the shipping point of a wide stock-raising district, and +all its activity centres about the railroad station at stated times +daily. The justly aroused fellow-townsmen were all back under the +awnings--leaning against the wall by the post-office, sitting on boxes +by the grocery; some indolently telling stories and chaffing; some +looking sleepily before them in absolute repose; some in various +stages of inert drunkenness. All stared curiously at young Strong and +the strange lady, and prepared to talk them over afterward, but no +one addressed him. + +They turned aside soon into a broad cross street with no sidewalk, +where the coarse dust was in places ankle deep. Behind them, beyond +the main street, a few groups of yellowing cottonwoods on bare banks +of reddish clay marked the course of the Sacramento; before them the +street faded into a limitless expanse of gravel, thinly dotted in the +distance with dull green oaks, and bounded by long knolls, like +wrinkles in the plain, dark with oaks against the smoky sky of +September--a sky dull blue above, dull gray near the horizon. + +Along either side of the street the flimsy wooden houses were set +back, each in its yard, and surrounded by oleanders; sometimes there +would be a few parched roses, a trellis of Madeira-vine, a patch of +carefully nursed grass, often a row of China trees, whose fallen +black seeds stippled the dust--but always the great rosy clumps of +oleanders, glorying in the heat and drought. Every evening after +dinner the owners come out, and stand watering these gardens with hose +and sprinkler, till all along the street there is a murmur like rain +and a smell of damp earth, and here and there through the warm +twilight a glimpse of the white sprays of water; while the families +sit on the porches and doorstep, and gossip and laugh. At this hour, +however, the little gardens and splendid oleanders lay hot and +deserted in the dusty afternoon. + +"I haven't till now had time to spare from being anxious to be +interested," Miss Northrop said. "I was rather panic-stricken this +morning, and things were awful, instead of interesting, in proportion +to their newness." + +This bit of pathos stiffened Will's manner with the awkwardness of +over-feeling, as he asked: "Now, what can I do for you--Winifred?" + +The awkwardness made him more like the school-boy Will; and then, a +familiar face four thousand miles from home seems more familiar than +it really is. Miss Northrop answered confidingly: "I will tell you all +about it, and then you will know what to do. I wrote to Judge +Garvey--some one referred me to him at Sacramento--and asked if I +might teach the school. He wrote back that I might, fixed the day, and +directed me to a boarding-place that he had engaged for me. So I came +by yesterday evening's train, and sent word that I was here. This +morning he called and told me--with most oppressive civility--that as +I had not answered his last letter, the place had been given to some +one else. He said 'professional etiquette' here demands an answer in +such a case, and failure to answer is equivalent to a withdrawal of +the application." + +"He lied," said Will, parenthetically, walking along with his eyes on +the ground; she, on the contrary, looked at him often, with frank +directness. + +"He did not impress me," she said, "as the soul of candor. I said as +little as possible to him, but when he was gone I asked about the rest +of the committee, and as soon as I heard your name I hoped it was you; +I knew you were somewhere in California. This afternoon I received his +letter written to prevent my coming. It had followed me up here by the +same train that I came on." She held the letter in her hand, and Will +quietly took it and kept it. "I would not raise any controversy about +such a thing," she went on, "if I had any idea in the world where else +to go or what to do." Her voice sharpened a little again, with a note +of pathos. + +Will did not know how to answer without seeming to question or +comment, so there came a pause; then he said: + +"This Coakley was an electioneering agent of Garvey's, and doesn't +know enough to teach babies. He seems to have turned up suddenly +wanting help, and the Judge is willing enough to keep him on hand and +under obligations until next election." + +Miss Northrop stopped short and looked at him with brows a little +raised, and her bearing became impalpably more distant. + +"But I cannot enter into contest with--these men for permission to +teach school here," she said. + +She was right, in her quick feeling that Will Strong's training could +not have made work and discomfort and contact with vulgarity seem +outside the sphere of women. If it had been one of his own sisters he +would have said: "Oh, well, we have to take the world as we find it. +Brace up, little girl; I'll put you safe through, and you'll find it's +not so bad, after all." + +But what he said to Winifred Northrop was: "It is outrageous! Such +brutes as Garvey have no business to look at a lady! If you really +prefer not to take the school," he went on, with some embarrassment, +"I hope you will call on me to help you in any other way; but if you +want the school you shall have it, and no annoyance with it that I can +help." + +Miss Northrop repented that she had repented her confidence. "I +remembered that you were kind of old, Will"--and her manner was +irresistibly winning when she said such a thing--"but you are so very +kind now that you make me ashamed. I only meant to ask you what I must +do. Yes, I must take this position if I can, for I have no +alternative." + +"There is nothing for you to do," he said. "It is my place, as an +officer of the school, to see that its rightful teacher is not +defrauded." + +"So it is," she said, relieved. "But I am none the less grateful." + +"It is a pleasure to me to be able to do anything for you," he said, +gravely, somewhat stiffly--from his tone you would not have suspected +much more truth than usual in the formula. + +She only said: "You are very kind," and then he lifted his hat, and +left her at Mrs. Stutt's gate. + +He deliberately and literally believed, as he walked down the +street--directly to Green's--that he was the happiest man in the +world. For that matter, it is not impossible that he was. He was +absolutely innocent of conscious hyperbole in saying, "It would be +worth a life-time of trouble only to have _seen_ her; and I know her +and am able to do her a service!" + +He scored one advantage in having seen Miss Northrop early; he saw +Green before Garvey had talked with him. The report of the quarrel had +by no means failed to reach "The American Eagle," and when Strong came +in Uncle Billy Green was just expressing himself with regard to +Coakley: + +"Of course the Judge'll provide for his man when he gets a chance. +That's where he's sharp. And if Coakley is smart enough to suit Judge +Garvey, he's smart enough to teach _my_ children--that's what _I_ +say." + +A private audience with him would have been merely postponing the hour +of general discussion, so Strong made a brief exposition of his +case--gently enough, but with considerable force--then and there, +displaying the letter he carried by way of proof. He hardly expected +to elicit anything but the usual laugh and comment on the Judge's +smartness. But there was a marked seriousness of tone in the remarks +when he ended. + +"Well, that _is_ pretty rough." + +"Yes, sir, that's going too far. The Judge ought to know where to +stop. I don't stand by no man when it comes to a shabby trick on an +unprotected school-marm." + +"A real lady, too--I could see that when she went by with you, +Strong." + +Even Green said, uneasily, "No, I shouldn't think the Judge ought to +do that, quite." + +It was evident that Green's Ferry drew its lines as much as any other +town. The moral support it offered Strong was mainly negative, +however, and Green, after several alternate conversations with his two +fellow trustees during this Saturday evening, went off early Sunday +morning to visit his married daughter at the old Meeker place, leaving +word that they must fix it between them. Judge Garvey closed the +somewhat stormy conference of Saturday evening with a promise to break +down Miss Northrop's school in a week, and Strong's paper in a month. +"Do you flatter yourself I should not have had your contemptible sheet +in powder under my feet, sir, before this, if I had thought it worth +the attention?" Nevertheless, as there was nothing on which the Judge +prided himself more than on his invariable civility to ladies ("the +courtly Judge" was his favorite phrase in writing up a local notice of +any affair at which he had been present), Strong, having possession of +the school-house key, was able to put Miss Northrop into possession on +Monday morning without opposition. The Judge even visited her during +the day and addressed the school with extreme suavity. + +He was, however, very seriously affronted, and had not passed his +Sunday without diligent preparation among parents and children to make +Miss Northrop's position untenable. It would have been no difficult +task, either, but for an altogether unprecedented obstacle--a factor +that he had not dreamed of in his calculations, and that Strong +himself had underestimated. The children, who had gone to school +Monday morning primed for mutiny, surrendered their hearts in a body +to Miss Northrop by night; three days later, Uncle Billy Green's +niece, who taught the primary school, gave in adoring allegiance; by +the end of the week everybody who had seen her was her advocate. It +was certainly an unprecedented thing that Judge Garvey's best +exertions should come to naught, because of a woman's way of smiling +and speaking; but Miss Northrop's tenure of the school was secure. It +was not entirely speech and smile, however. Miss Northrop was +interested in everything, and consequently had common ground with +everybody; and she met each one on that ground, not so much ignoring +as temporarily forgetting differences. + +The year wore on from gray to gray; the parching north wind poured +down the plain and darkened the air with gritty dust; the sky, though +cloudless, grew murkier every day. Then the wind shifted to the south, +and the sky grew darker yet with surging heaps of clouds, and at last +down came the late November rain; and next morning Miss Northrop could +see, like a miraculous creation of the night, up and down every +east-and-west street, a range of azure mountains along either horizon, +snow-crowned, clear-cut, against an exquisite blue sky. Every two or +three weeks the surge of clouds would come rolling up with the south +wind, and the rain would come down in torrents for days, till the +Sacramento, yellow with mud, roared level with its banks; and then the +storm would break away, and there would be a week or two of blue sky +and brilliant air and green earth. + +One Sunday in March, between the early and the latter rains, Miss +Northrop and Will Strong walked out together several miles over the +plain. The gravel had long disappeared under green burclover and +_filaria_, thickly dotted with the little yellow clover blossoms, the +lilac ones of the _filaria_, and with small blue gilias. The flocks +and herds had been driven down from the mountains where they spend +their summers and autumns, and the air was full of the bleating of +lambs. Up and down either horizon, converging toward the north, were +the long ranks of the Sierras and Coast Range, deep blue, ruggedly +tipped with white peaks of all shapes--the Lassen Buttes, the Yallo +Balleys, and many a lesser one. Northward, in the interval between the +ranges, miles and miles away, the solitary peak of Shasta rose above +the dark oak-knolls, sharp-white from base to tip, against a stainless +sky. They sat down on the warm clover, beside a noisy yellow stream +that ran full to its banks on its way to the Sacramento. Winifred +pushed back her hat, dropped her hands in her lap, and let her senses +be played upon by the delicious air, the blue and white of mountains +and sky and clouds, the luminous green, the rushing of water close by, +and the bleating of flocks in the distance. It gave Will a good chance +to watch her face--the sweetness of the mouth; the nobility of the +level brows; the frankness of the eyes; the soft wave of her hair. +There was a marked sadness in her face in repose; to wonder why, was +to transgress the code of loyal humility that Will set himself; he had +not even considered it due chivalry to speculate, much less ask, as to +the reason of so amazing a phenomenon as her presence in California at +all, and the incongruity of her school-teaching. Her pose was perfect, +and yet nothing could be more unconscious. Was that marvellous +spontaneity, that simple dignity, the regular thing among the men and +women Winifred belonged with? It made him feel left very far out to +think so. How incapable of effort for admiration she was, yet how +invariably admirable! + +She caught him looking at her, in time. "What is it?" she said, +simply. + +He colored with some confusion, but confessed a piece of his thought. +"I was wondering if you really do not care at all for admiration. Most +people would think they got the good of their living in being praised +a fraction as much as you've been. If that's impertinent I beg your +pardon; you asked me." + +The portion of aristocrat's pride that was in Winifred was largely +concentrated in an objection to talking of herself or letting other +people do it; so she looked a little annoyed. She began with some +constraint: + +"Yes--I care--at first--when it is the right one that praises. But +there is always a reaction of self-distrust. It seems humiliating," +she went on more frankly, "to have been praised for having done some +common thing--solved a problem, or written a poem, or handled a +piano--a little more or less cleverly, when one comes to think what +education and art are. And _personal_ admiration--that always seems a +contemptible sort of folly, if you think of what great things there +are to do and be in the world, and the lives the great lonely souls +have lived." + +"Your achievement seems little to you," said Will, with some gloom, +"because, I suppose, more always opens to you. To me, who have made +none--" + +"Why, Will," she cried, with the most genuine dissent. "You have done +more than almost any one I know. Do you call it nothing to do a +college curriculum alone and under all sorts of hindrances? And I know +that it was done well and thoroughly." + +"Oh, yes," he said, indifferently, tossing bits of clover into the +stream, "I could have passed an A. B. fast enough. But you know better +than I do, Winifred, that that's the least of a college course. I've +seen fellows that had to work their way through and had no spare time +or energy, and they always lacked a great deal of the college flavor; +the education didn't permeate 'em. Then there are other things--music, +art, social opportunities, capacity of expression--that are no slight +things to miss; they make up more of first-class living than Greek +optatives or the equation of a surface. It isn't really possible for a +man, not backed by circumstances, to get himself into a position that +some are born to." He let the clover be and looked up. "Oh, I'm not +growling, Winifred," he said, hastily, smiling, as he saw her about to +speak eagerly. "I'm only making philosophical observations, and using +myself as an illustration. Why in the world should I growl to find +myself stranded half way up, when there is a townful of people behind +us clear down at the bottom, and no more their fault than mine? Why +should I mind that I am left out from the best chances, any more than +that a thousand other fellows are? 'What Act of Legislature was there +that' _I_ should be cultured?" + +She was leaning forward with her irresistible eyes full on his, and +face and voice vivified with that sympathetic expressiveness that +makes speech count for far more than the words. + +"Will, that is true," she cried, "but it is only part of the truth. +'Close thy' Carlyle; 'open thy' Emerson. It's true, you have missed +some things that you deserved to have and that many of your inferiors +have for nothing. But your life is only begun, and your ability and +pluck can do so much that you needn't waste regret on anything they +may fail to do. Even if circumstances be unconquerable that stand +between you and some good things, are the things you have gained +instead of less value?--your courage and patience, your self-reliance +and trustworthiness and helpfulness? Why, Will, _character_ is worth +more than knowledge of art, or familiarity with good society; just to +live bravely is worth more than all the rest. Do you suppose I would +exchange your companionship for that of a dozen 'cultured' people who +could talk to me about 'sincere furniture'"--this was in the last +decade, remember--"and Rauss's heads, as you can't, and who never +showed me one spark of genuine feeling about the great things of life, +as you can?" + +Will was overwhelmed. Winifred had talked of his affairs much, +following them with unvarying interest, but of himself or herself, +never; and it was actually a new idea to the young fellow that she +could have any very high opinion of him. Moreover, it was the first +time he had heard her speak with unveiled and ardent feeling. + +"You do not mean"--and he formed his words with difficulty--"that I +could meet on equal ground people that--such people as _your_ +associates." + +"No; you would meet most of them on higher ground. If they didn't know +it, that would be their discredit. I should think you could see +that," she added, in a quick, parenthetic averse way, "from _their_ +associate. If you want to get a higher opinion of the value of your +life, compare it with an ordinary, foolish, useless one--like mine." +She gave him no chance to answer that, but was the next moment on her +feet, suggesting that they walk on, and wishing they were not to stop +short of the Lassen Buttes, whose apparent nearness, scores of miles +distant as they were, was still a perpetual surprise to her eastern +eyes. + +When everything has been made ready for it, a few sentences may easily +make or mark an era in life; and it is probable that if Miss Northrop +had not in effect told young Strong he was quite good enough for her, +he might have remained her contented vassal for years. Six months of +being her nearest friend worked their result, to be sure; but the +humility they were gnawing at was of mediaevally tough fibre, and of +twice six years' growth. His depreciation of himself, however, had +only meant sense of distance from her; therefore, his sense of the +significance of her speech was enormous. He felt his relation to her +changed; he was shaken from all his moorings, and thrown into a mighty +agitation that possessed him night and day, and only grew with time. +For this was what it all came to: Was the distance between Winifred +and himself greater than the distance between her and any other man? +And when he had once thought that, the gate was open, and the +besieging host marched in and took possession of every corner of him +with longing and desire and a madness of tenderness. + +He thought of nothing else. He wrote his editorials and set type under +an unceasing sense of it, as people have done brain-work and +finger-work to an accompaniment of unceasing physical pain. For there +was nothing joyous about it to him; it was all a bitter pain of mad +desire to be something to her--to secure her, somehow, before this +great, dark future swept her away from him. And yet the latter rains +came and went, the green faded from the ground, the mountains grew +dimmer and duller, and at last disappeared in the summer murk, before +he took in his own mind the next step--from lover to suitor, as before +from vassal to lover. + +He did so simply because he could not stand it any longer. It stood to +reason that there must be a way out of such active torments. And, +after all, why not he as well as any other man? It was absurd to +suppose that Winifred could ever be _in love_ with any man, as a man +would be with her. It occurred to Will that the thing to do was +natural enough, after all--not to ask Winifred's love, but to offer +her his. And he walked down to Mrs. Stutt's to do it, one August +evening, a little before school opened after vacation. He was in good +spirits, too; to come to action and to speech, after so long +repression, was an inestimable relief. And she had been doubly +friendly to him all this time. + +Mrs. Stutt was in her little strip of grass and oleanders. "That you, +Mr. Strong?" she called out cheerily as he lifted the gate-latch. +"Well, Miss Northrop's in the sitting-room, I s'pose. You go right in, +and I'll come in when I've done my watering." + +"Thank you," said Will, absently, and walked on into the house. +Winifred was not in the dark little sitting-room. He walked to the +open window and stood there, expecting her to come in presently. There +were veils of Madeira vine over the window, just opening their whitish +tassels of bloom, and the air was full of the smell of them. Mrs. +Stutt began to water the grass outside, and the shower of water from +her hose glimmered through the Madeira vine; the noise of the water +came to him, and the crying of crickets, and the smell of the freshly +wet earth. Then he heard a step on the porch, and saw Winifred go down +the short path to the gate. He could see by her white dress that she +stood still there; so he went out, too, to join her. Mrs. Stutt was +watering at the other side of the house now, and the two were alone. + +Will stopped a moment in the darkness and faint odor of a great +oleander, a few feet from the motionless girl at the gate, to realize +well the grace of her dim white figure, and her unconscious attitude. +She stood in a weary way, with her head a little fallen back, and her +hands hanging loosely clasped before her. There was so much and so +incomprehensible emotion in the attitude, that Will felt vaguely +thrust out into another world from that where her interests lay. She +had not heard him approach, for the train from the south was just +coming to a stand at the station, not a stone's throw off, and there +was a great noise of jarring cars, and shouting men, and escaping +steam, and ringing bell. He waited till the noise should be quite +over. Some one came walking rapidly from the station; Will, glancing +at the dark figure, thought it had, even in this dimness, an +unfamiliar look. It paused close by the gate. + +"Winifred!" + +Will did not know the voice; the tone turned him blind and dizzy. + +Winifred started violently, and turned; she clasped her hands tightly, +and lifted them to her breast in a frightened way, as she fell back a +step. + +"Oh, my God!" she cried, under her breath. There was a rattle of the +gate-latch, a sharp flying open of the gate, and the stranger held her +in his arms. + +"My darling, my darling!" he said, with an infinite tenderness. "Did +you think you could hide anywhere in all this wide world where I +should not find you?" + +For just an instant she yielded to his clasp--then she drew back. "You +must not," she said, softly, with unmistakable pain in her voice. "You +know that. I thought if I was utterly out of sight or hearing, you +would forget me, and _I_ might--forget myself." + +He broke in before she had fairly spoken. "You were mistaken, +Winifred; there was no one between us. O my foolish little hot-head! +if you had not been so headlong in your self-sacrifice--if you had +only waited till I came back--I could have showed you in ten minutes +that there was no place for it. Mollie is married to John Gates and is +very happy. And you and I--my little girl, how nearly our two lives +have been spoiled! Sweetheart," he said, laughing with a shaky voice, +"I think I shall never dare let go of you again"--and he drew her back +to him. + +She hesitated--surrendered--clung to him with a long sobbing breath. +"Oh, I have wanted you so, I have _wanted_ you so!" she cried. "Oh, +don't be a dream and melt away this time!" + +Will Strong, standing close in the darkness of the oleander, acquiring +a life-long association with smell of Madeira vine and oleander and +wet earth, cry of crickets and noise of sprinkling water, gathered +himself together enough to creep away. He was _going_ to realize it +pretty soon, he thought; he did not yet; it seemed likely to be beyond +endurance when he did. As he passed the door some one opened it, and +the lamp-light streamed about him; Winifred looked around and saw his +face for an instant, and then he had slipped away through a side gate. + +He walked out from town across miles of dark plain, until he came to +the empty channel of the stream by which they had sat in March. +Underfoot not a blade of grass or green thing; no stranger would have +believed that living thing had ever grown there. The flocks and herds +had long since gone to the mountain pastures. The dry channel between +shelvy banks of gravel showed white in the unclouded yet dull +starlight. The air was lifeless, and faintly tainted with smoke from +forest fires in the mountains. + +Will threw himself down on his face, clutching with his fingers at the +gritty dirt. He knew as surely then, looking forward to his life, as +he will know at the end looking back, that this would never be an +out-lived romance. Nor could he creep back into that temple of dreams +from which Winifred's own hand had lured him--it had crumbled to dust +behind him. Nor was he like one who, losing a woman, loses only his +best pleasure and best ambition; she was the vital condition to every +pleasure, every ambition; losing her, he lost all. The realization +clutched him by this time like a tiger. There was not a living +creature within miles; a man might go down to primal depths, might +drop even the restraint of the human in outcries and struggles as free +as a tortured beast's. It may be that solitude sees more such scenes +than a decently decorous world would like to think. + +Yet there was a sense upon him of some moral demand, some decision to +be made; and in time he began to try to collect himself for it. It +would seem as if there could hardly be a position that left less for +him to decide. There was no question of renouncing--he had never had +anything to renounce. Nevertheless, his instinct was correct in urging +him to a moral conflict and a momentous decision. The question was +simply whether he could pick up his life again, could find faith that +anything was worth living for; or whether life was to be a hollow +going through the forms--frustrated, purposeless, full of brooding +regret and jealousy, shame, and sense of wrong. But he could not drag +his bruised mind up to the question; he could not even think what it +was. He lifted himself up, stepped down into the dry channel, and +knelt on the white stones, obeying old association with the attitude; +laid his arms and head on a shelf of the bank, and let the stunned and +nerveless will lie passive, while the accumulated forces of years--of +generations--passion and pain and despair and love, shame and +bitterness and loyalty--trampled back and forth over him, fighting out +for him his battle. + +It was deathly, aggressively still; not an insect to chirp, not a tree +to rustle; only bare earth and sodden air. After a long time Will +raised his head and threw it back, looking up at the dull stars, while +his outstretched hands lay clasped before him; he began to breathe +more deeply. Not many minutes later he rose and walked homeward across +the dim, wide waste. + +It was afternoon of the next day when he stood at Mrs. Stutt's door +again. Mrs. Stutt looked at him with the embarrassment of conscious +pity as she admitted him. People had been looking at him all day, on +the street and in the office, with the same embarrassment and pity. +Miss Northrop was packing, the good woman said; and, in an answer to +her call, Winifred came out from her room into the little +sitting-room. She, too, was evidently under agitation and +embarrassment. Will had no doubt, from his first sight of her face, +that she had seen and understood his haggard flight the evening +before. He was himself entirely calm, as he held out his hand with a +grave smile in silence. + +Winifred tried to speak naturally. + +"I had just sent a note to you, Will," she said, as they sat down. + +"About the school, I suppose," he answered, quietly. "You are going +away at once?" + +"Yes." There she stopped, with her eyes downcast. She looked up to his +face and caught her breath to speak, stopped, and began again. + +"You have been very good to me all this year--" there she hesitated. +Her difficulty was to choose her words so as to ignore his secret, and +yet not part from him in a cold or inadequate way. + +He rose, and crossed over to her. + +"Winifred," he said gently, "you are distressed on my account; and so +it is better that I should speak of what otherwise it would be better +to ignore. I want you to know that you have not harmed me." + +She rose quickly at that, and they stood near together, with their +eyes fixed on each other's; the fulness of expression in her face +seemed to take the place of answer. He went on steadily, speaking low: + +"I have thought it all over, and I find these two things stronger than +any pain that may have come to me. Winifred, I cannot do you this +wrong, to make you the instrument of evil to me. That is one of the +two things. And the other is that there is nothing to reproach any one +with; no one has done wrong; there is no cause for shame, or +resentment, or bitterness--only for clean pain. Pain is no great evil, +Winifred, when it is clean, no matter how sharp." + +He smiled at her tranquilly enough as he spoke. In truth, he was not +unhappy at the moment. It is not during but after the parting +interview that the pinch comes. She answered him only with her deeply +attentive look, and he went on: + +"I did not come to those convictions; they came to me; or rather, they +were in me, and bore down all the other feelings. All the noisy +passions dropped away before them, and left just those clear voices in +my soul. They made all my love and loyalty work together, instead of +tearing me in opposite directions. For, see, Winifred, hasn't it been +our moral faith for years that to do spiritual harm to another is the +greatest evil that can befall one, and to do him spiritual benefit, +the greatest good? All these years since we were in school together, +I have been proud to think that it could be only a good to you to have +me think of you as I have thought, because it was only a good to me. +And I will not be so disloyal now as to let my life be spoiled because +of you." + +Winifred looked at him aghast. "All these years!" It was a revelation +intolerable at first shock to a woman that was no coquette. + +"I think it was all the time dimly in my mind what _your_ last year +had been; at last I went out of my life and into yours. I want you to +understand that I do not think of it with bitterness, because I +entered so little into it; I realize, Winifred"--his voice broke from +its steadiness--"that you have been good, _good_ in it all. If you had +not been--if you had trifled with me--I think I should be at the +bottom of the river to-day. But since no one has wronged me," he went +on more quietly, "since nothing monstrous or unnatural has befallen +me, everything I believed in has the same claim on me as ever. + +"And I want you to know that you need not _mind_ my love, Winifred." +She dropped her eyes and stood mute. "It is something you may be +willing and glad to have without troubling yourself because you cannot +return it. For any pain that has happened, do not trouble yourself +about that either--if I don't mind it, you needn't," he said, smiling +a little, with a certain manly sweetness quite new to him. "I find one +gains something in having no longer to struggle with pain and try to +keep her at arm's length." + +She looked up then, and cried out passionately. "O Will, Will, if only +there was anything in all this world I could do to make it up to you!" + +"There is nothing to make up," he said. "I would rather have pain from +you than pleasure from any one else. But there _is_ something that you +can do; this: not to feel my love a burden laid upon you, an annoyance +or trespass, an anxiety or self-reproach--or anything that will make +you want to get rid of it," he finished, smiling again; "and to let me +give you all I wish, on the condition that I ask no return. And if, in +a few years, I should ask to come and live near you, and be good +friends--may I? It would be hard," he urged, less quietly, "that I +should have to lose your friendship, when I ask nothing more. Would +you take away the crumbs from me, just because I have lost the loaf?" + +"Is that best, Will?" she began, anxious and hesitating. "Oh, I mean +for you. It isn't _possible_ that you can always--think of me--so. +There is no reason. If you do not see me--somebody else--" + +"Have I been seeing you these dozen years?" he said, very gently. "You +may trust me to know what is best for me. Why think--think a moment, +dear friend, and you will understand. You, of all people, _can_ +understand the plane I want you to take me on." + +Winifred's eyes kindled and her face flushed. "I see. I _do_ +understand. I can meet you on your own plane, and I can trust your +friendship and you. I am not afraid to have you come--after a year or +two." + +"Thank you," he said, shaken as he had not been. + +"It is because you are very noble that any good can come out of this +harm," she went on, with an eloquent tremor in her voice. "I can see +that before very long I shall be, as you said, willing--glad--for so +great a gift--only always sorry for your sake. I am very grateful +_now_--I cannot tell you how great a thing I think it is--from such a +man as you." + +They had both become embarrassed and shy now, and both stood silent to +recover their ease. "You leave by this evening's train?" he asked in a +minute. + +"Yes." + +"Then this is good-by." + +"For a while." + +They moved together to the door. As they reached it, Will turned and +held out his hand, with an attempt at a smile. They stood a few +moments with hands clasped. Winifred's downcast eyes were filling. + +"Good-by, Winifred," he said. + +"Good-by," she answered, faintly. A minute later she had thrown +herself sobbing on her bed, and he was walking down the street. + +He met Winifred's lover, coming from the ticket-office--a gentleman +high-bred and handsome in every line, a scholar by his appearance, a +good man by his eyes, a good companion by his smile. There were all +those differences between him and Will that the young man had talked +of and Winifred in all sincerity had called nothing; and, moreover, +she would never in the world have loved him if there had not been. The +girl was an aristocrat after all, when it came to a question not of +friendship but love. And Will knew it; love is penetrating enough to +divine that much from scanty data. He looked at the stranger with a +sort of transferred reverence--what a king of men must he be whom +Winifred could crown! And if he did not look at him without a blinding +pang, it was, nevertheless, a test of the thoroughness of the night's +work that there was neither bitterness nor aversion in it. Something, +that sense of having disarmed pain--not dodged nor outwitted it, but +disarmed it forever--must have been in Winkelried's consciousness as +the spears pressed in. + +But, after all, it is _taking_ the second place that costs--not being +there after it has been once sincerely and thoroughly accepted. Bunyan +knew long ago that it was easy walking in the Valley of Humiliation, +once you had come safely down. + +On the street an acquaintance met Strong and turned to walk beside +him. It was the man who would not trust Judge Garvey out of sight with +his baby's silver mug. + +"I was just going to your office," he said. "It's something very +important." He spoke with a marked friendliness, and a transparently +covert sympathy. "You see," he went on, confidentially, "we fellows +that have been against Garvey begin to think our minority's about +over. The whole affair of Miss Northrop has hurt him. He was shabby +when first she came, about that Coakley business, and he's been ugly +about her ever since in a sneaking sort of way. Such a lady, too! And +there's a thing come out to-day--if you'll excuse my speaking of it." +He showed a certain embarrassment. "Uncle Billy Green gave it away +first--he knew, being postmaster--but Garvey's been boasting of it +himself, too, in the bar-room. You know you used to write to a fellow +in the States, and haven't written to him so much lately." + +"Yes, I know," said Strong. The man caught a hint of what he did not +say in what he did. + +"Uncle Billy gives away any interesting point he gets in the +post-office," he said, apologetically. "You knew that before, Strong. +Well, Garvey got out of him, too, that Miss Northrop didn't have nor +write any letters; and he got it into his head she was hiding. Anybody +could see she wasn't used to working for a living--" + +"Look here--" + +"Bless you, Strong, I sha'n't say a word disrespectful to her. This is +something you'd ought to know. He just did up a 'Clarion' with some +notice about the school in it, and her name marked, and sent it to +that fellow you used to write to; and he wrote on the margin: 'Please +forward to Miss N.'s friends.' He said in the bar-room, to-day, that +he didn't know just what would come of it, but it stood to reason if +she was on the hide, it would damage her or you, somehow." + +"It hasn't, however," said Strong. "But if _I_ stayed round the +bar-room--" + +"Oh, we choked him off. I tell you, Strong, everybody thinks it was a +pretty dirty trick. The people don't care so much about his big +tricks, but they won't stand any such small ones. No money in it, +either--only spite! Well, the long and the short is--it's only a few +weeks till convention; and if you'll take hold now while they're mad, +you can name your own man for Senate, and we'll send you to Assembly." + +"I don't want to go to Assembly," said Will, standing on his +office-step. "I'll gladly do my best to defeat Garvey for Senate." + +"Well, you just decide on your man, and bring him out in your next +paper and we'll elect him. The people are strong for you just now. And +I should think you would look on going to Assembly as a sort of +duty--purify politics, you know." + +"Well--I'll think about it." And young Strong walked into his shabby +office, stopped to give Jim directions, then went in behind his +screen, and sat down to write a proper editorial for beginning the +reform campaign. + + + + +HOW OLD WIGGINS WORE SHIP. + +AN OLD SAILOR'S YARN. + +BY CAPTAIN ROLAND T. COFFIN. + +_The World, N. Y., November, 1878._ + + +"Well, sir," said the old sailor, "here we are ag'in. I ain't been +round here much lately, and atwixt you and me, she's put the 'kybosh' +onto it, holdin' that comin' round here and hystin' are promotin' of +rheumatics, which, as are well known, they come of long and various +exposures in all climates, to say nothin' of watchin' onto a damp dock +night arter night continual. But what's the use? Everybody knows as a +quiet home are better than silver and fine gold, which it stands to +reason are to be obtained in two ways. Wimmin are like sailors in some +respects; whoever has anythin' to do with 'em must either be saddled +and bridled, leastwise, or else booted and spurred. You've got to ride +'em, or else they'll ride you. Bein' a sailorman myself, it ain't +likely as I'd say anythin' ag'in 'em; but if the truth must be told, +I'll say this--that while it'll never do, not at no price, for to let +sailors git the upper hand, there's many a man as has giv' the helm +into the hands of his old woman and made a better v'yage thereby; and +I don't mind sayin', sir, that havin' while follerin' the water got +into the habit of allowin' her for to be skipper in the house durin' +my short stoppin's on shore, it got for to be so much the custom, that +since comin' home for a full due I ain't never tried for to break away +from it; and though human natur' is falliable, and she does make +mistakes, especially about the hystin', on the whole, and by and +large, I judges I've been a gainer by it, as I believes at least eight +men out of ten would be if they took the hint accordin' and went and +done likewise. + +"I don't go for to say as she ever goes to go to say I ain't a-goin' +for to let you go there; but it are terrible aggrivokin' when the +rheumatics twinges awful, and as it might be that this saw-mill don't +want no more splinters laid onto it, to have her feelin'ly remark, +'Well, if you will go round a-guzzlin' ale with your swell friends and +a-leavin' your lawful wife to home alone you must expect to pay for +it,' whereas I know it are the dock and other causes long gone by; but +that knowledge don't ease the pain a morsel, and the last time I were +that way tantalized I swore I wouldn't come here no more. But whatever +are the use? Man resolves and reresolves and then takes another +snifter, and so here I are, and bein' as its cold, as so she sha'n't +have no basis for her unfeelin' remark about guzzlin' ale, we'll let +him make it hot rum, and arter the old receipt, neither economizin' in +the rum or the sugar, but givin' a fair drink for honest money. + +"Well, well (just mix another afore the glass cools off), to think how +the time goes. Here it are autumn ag'in, and in a few weeks 'twill be +winter. It reminds me (I'll take one more, if you please, with one +lump less of sugar and the space in rum) that I'm gittin' old, and I +feels it. My eyes ain't so good and my legs ain't so good, and I ain't +so good all over. When I goes down to the dock my lantern are heavier +than it used to were, and the distance ain't so short as it used to +seem from the dock to the house. Afore many years I'll be put quietly +away, and though I'd prefer bein' beautifully sewed up and launched +shipshape in blue water, with a hundred pound weight for to keep me +down, I s'poses it won't make much difference, nohow. Anyhow, if I +lives as long as old Wiggins, I hopes I may go as well at the end. I +don't think I ever told you about him, and if you'll let him fill 'em +up ag'in--for it's one of the vartues of hot rum that the more you +drinks the thirstier you gits--I'll reel you the yarn right off. + +"Old Wiggins had been all his life into the Liverpool trade and had +got well fixed, so far as cash were consarned; and so when he came for +to be seventy or seventy-two years old he were persuaded for to knock +off for a full due and spend the balance of his life ashore. Goin' up +to some place in Connecticut, he buys hisself a place there and +settles down. Well, for a time he were all right, a-fixin' up his +house, a-buildin' new barns and hen-coops and fences and the like, and +I've heerd tell that the house where he kep' his pigs were better than +any dwellin'-house in that region, and the whole place were the wonder +of the country roundabout; but arter he had fixed his house all up +like a ship, with little staterooms all through the upper part of it, +and had got everythin' inside and out in shipshape order, and there +weren't nothin' else he could think of for to do, he gits terribly +homesick and discontented, and times when he'd come to the city for to +collect his sheer of the profits of ships as he had a interest in, +he'd sit for hours on the wharf a-watchin' the vessels on the river, +and it were like drawin' teeth for to git him to leave and go up to +his home. His eyes had giv' out sometime afore he quit the sea, and +his legs was shaky, so as he had to walk with a settin' pole, and his +hand were tremblin' and unsteady; but aloft he were still all right, +and his head were as clear as a bell. + +"Arter bein' ashore a matter of seven year, he comes to town one day +to see a ship off what he had been in afore he quit, and in which he +had a half interest. The skipper of that ship, which her name were the +Vesuvius, he bein' called Perkins, in comin' from the Custom House +arter clearin', got athwart-hawse of a dray and were knocked down, the +wheels passin' over his legs and breakin' of 'em, and whatever do old +Wiggins do--the home-sickness bein' strong onto him--but says to the +agents, 'It are a pity for to lose a day's fair wind; I'll go aboard +and take her out myself;' and, sure enough, he done it, never lettin' +on to the folks at home, but leavin' the agents to tell 'em arter he +were gone. + +"Into that ship I were shipped, she bein' 830 tons or thereabout, with +three royal yards across, and loaded with flour and grain, there bein' +sixteen of us afore the mast, with two mates, carpenter and cook, and +steward, leavin' on the 16th of November, and, unless I'm mistakened, +in the year 1843. + +"We towed down to the Hook and out over the bar, and then put the +muslin on to her with a fine breeze from sou'west, and I supposes +there weren't a happier man in the world than old Wiggins when he +discharged the pilot and steamer and took charge. + +"'I've giv' 'em the slip,' says he to the mate. 'I've giv' 'em the +slip; they thought I were too old for to go to sea, but I'll show 'em +thar's plenty of life into me yet; git out all the starboard stunsails +and see to it that she's kep' a-movin' night and day, for in sixteen +days I expects to walk the pierhead in Liverpool.' Well, sure enough, +a-movin' she were kep', and I never seen harder carryin's on than I +seen that passage; but we never lost a stitch of canvas, 'cause the +old man not only knowed how to carry it, but he knowed how to take it +off of her when it be to come off, and in a gale of wind he'd 'liven +up wonderful, whereas in light weather he'd show his age. It were +funny for to see him takin' the sun and tryin' to read her off, which +he weren't able for to do, not by no means. + +"'What d'ye stand on?' he'd say to the mate arter screwin' his eye to +the glass and tryin' to make it out; and when the mate would tell him, +he'd say, 'I believe that agrees with me; just take a squint at my +instrument; my eyesight ain't just as good as it used for to be, and I +don't quite make it out.' Then the mate would read him off his +instrument, and arter he'd made it eight bells he'd go down and work +it up and prick her off. The fourteenth day out we made the light on +Fastnet Rock, off Cape Clear, and went bowlin' along the coast, +passin' Tuskar next day, and swingin' her off up channel and round +Hollyhead past the Skerries and takin' a pilot off P'int Lynas. It +were a sight worth seein' for to watch the old man handle her in +takin' a pilot. The wind were fresh from west-nor'west, and we passed +the Skerries with all three royals set and lower topmast and +to'gallan' stunsails on the port side. As soon as ever we passed the +rocks we kep' off for Lynas, and as soon as the stunsails got by the +lee they was hauled in. Then with the wind about two p'ints on the +starboard quarter we went bilin' along for the boat which we seen +standin' off shore just to the east'ard of the P'int. There were a +pretty bubble of a sea on, and afore we gits to him he goes about +standin' in to the bay and givin' sheet. We follers along arter him, +goin' two feet to his one, still carryin' all three royals, with hands +at halliards and clewlines. Just afore we gits to him the old man +sings out, 'Clew up the royals, haul down the flyin' jib, haul up the +crochick and mainsail.' By this time we was well under the land and in +smooth water. Keepin' his eye onto the pilot-boat, which were a couple +of p'ints onto our weather bow, the old man no sooner seen her come to +than he sings out, 'Hard up the helm!' And as we swung off afore the +wind we runned up the foresail and laid the head-yards square; then +mannin' the port main braces we let the to'gallan' yards run down on +the caps and let her come to ag'in, and so nicely had the old man +calculated the distance that as she come to the wind she shot up +alongside of the pilot-boat, stoppin' just abreast of her and not over +twenty foot away. + +"'That was well done, Mr. Mate,' said the pilot, as he come over the +side; 'some of these galoots makes us chase 'em half a day afore we +can board 'em. Fill away the head-yards, put your helm up, run up the +flyin' jib, brail up the spanker check in the arter yards,' and as she +swung off he comes aft to the wheel where I was a-steerin', and says, +'Keep her east-sou'east, my man; giv' us a chew of terbacker.' We +soon had the muslin piled onto her ag'in, and sure enough, as old +Wiggins had said, the sixteenth day out he walked the pierhead in +Liverpool. + +"I understood as old Wiggins was made a good deal on in Liverpool as +bein' the oldest skipper that had ever come there, and the Board of +Trade and what not giv' him dinners, and so on--which, considerin' his +age, he oughtn't to have took--and by other skippers at the hotel he +were much honored, bein' giv' the head of the table and treated with +great deference--and all this dinin' and winin' and feastin' weren't +no good to him--and, arter a stay of three weeks, when we ag'in went +down the river with full complement of passengers and a good freight, +he weren't not by no means as well as when we went in. We had, too, a +tough time down channel, a stiff sou'wester, with rain and thick +weather, and it told onto the old man, so that when arter bein' out a +week we at last got clear of Tuskar and had the ocean open, the relief +from the strain fetched him, and he were took down sick. + +"Whether it were to punish him for comin' to sea at his time of life +or not I don't know; but from this on we did have the devil's own +weather. Gale after gale from the west'ard, shiftin' constant from +sou'west to nor'west, and tryin' constant to see from which quarter it +could blow the hardest. + +"The mate were a plucky and a able young feller, by the name of +Graham, and he kep' her a-dancin' as well as the old man would have +done. Constant she had everythin' put to her that she'd bear, and +always were she kep' on the tack where she'd make the most westin', +and so she struggled along till we was as far as thirty degrees west, +we bein' thirty days out and not yet half way. Every day we asked the +steward how old Wiggins were a-gittin' on, and every day he'd shake +his head and say 'no better;' and it come to be understood, fore and +aft, that it were as much as a toss-up if the old man ever smelled +grass ag'in. We had a little let-up arter gittin' into the thirties, +and for a day or so had fine weather and a chance to dry our dunnage. +Fine days, however, is scarce in January on that herrin' pond--I'll +take just another; mentionin' herrin's makes me dry--and when you gits +'em they are most always weather-breeders. I went up on to the main +royal yard when our side come up at 8 o'clock one mornin' for to sew +on the leather on the parral, and it were like a day in May. Afore I +got the leather sewed on I be to look out for myself, 'cause they was +goin' to clew up the sail, and from that time on it breezed on from +the sou'ard, keepin' us constantly takin' the sail off of her, till at +four bells we was under double-reefed topsails and reefed courses, +with jib, crochick, and spanker stowed. We hammered away under this, +carryin' on very heavy, 'cause she were headin' west-nor'west, which +were a good course, till eight bells in the arternoon watch, when the +sea gittin' up so tremendiously we had to furl the reefed mainsail +and mizzen topsail and close reef the fore and main topsails. + +"You'd think that were snug enough for any ship, now, wouldn't you? +and sartin it are; no ship ever ought to have less canvas than this, +till it blows away, 'cause she's safer with it onto her than with it +off, the reefed foresail supportin' the yard. Well, we'd had gales and +gales, but this here gale beat anythin' that I'd ever seen, and at +seven bells in the first night watch, with a tremendious surge, the +weather leech rope of the foresail giv' way, and in a jiffy away went +the foreyard in the slings--the foresail and fore-topsail goin' into +ribbons. All hands, of course, was busy for'ard, tryin' for to git +some of this wreck stuff tranquillized, when all of a suddint from the +poop come the old man's voice, full and round and clear, and not +shrill and pipin' as we'd heerd it last, and above all the roarin' of +the gale and the din of the slattin' canvas, we heerd him shout: +'Stations for wearin' ship. We must git her head round to the +sou'ard,' he bawled in the ear of the mate, as Mr. Graham struggled +aft; 'the shift will come in less than half a hour, and its goin' to +be tremendious; if it catches us aback it won't leave a stick into +her; but it ain't a-goin' to catch us, sir; I've brung her through +many and many a time like this. I'll bring her through this one, and +then you must do the rest. Now, then,' says he, 'stand by, put your +helm just a few spokes a-weather, don't check her at all with the +rudder, slack a foot or two of the lee braces and check in to +wind'ard; keep your eye constant on that sail, Mr. Clark'--that +were the second mate--'and don't let it shake; keep it good full and +give her away; lay the crochick yard square, and come up to the +main-braces, all of you.' And so, gently, as if she'd been a sick +child, he coaxed her to go off, and she begin to gather way. As soon +as she done so the helm were put hard up, and the main-yard rounded +in, just keepin' the topsail alift, but not permittin' it to shake. As +she went off till she got the sea on the quarter, a mighty wave came +a-rollin' along, boardin' us about the main riggin', floodin' the +decks and dashin' out the starboard bulwarks. The minnit we got the +wind onto the starboard quarter we braced the main-yard sharp up with +the port-braces and bowsed the weather ones as taut as a harp string. +'Now, then,' says the old man, 'never mind that trash for'ard, let +that go; git a jumper on to the main-yard and a preventer main-topsail +brace aloft; lay aloft for your lives, and clap preventer gaskets on +everythin' that's furled; we'll have it soon from the north'ard fit to +take the masts out of her.' He were right. In a short time there were +a instant's lull, and then with a roar that were almost deafenin' came +the cyclone from the north. Thanks to the old man's sagacity and +experience, howsever, we was a-headin' sou'-southeast when it hit us, +and it struck us right aft. + +"'Steady as you go,' shouts the old man, and then, a minnit arter, as +she gathered way, he says ag'in to the mate, 'We must let her come to, +Mr. Graham, we can't run her in the teeth of the old s'utherly sea; +ease down the helm and let her smell of it.' It was a powerful whiff +she took, for as she come to and felt the force of the wind, all three +to'gallan' masts went short off at the cap, the main-topsail sheets +parted, and in an instant there wasn't a piece of the sail left big +enough for a lady's handkerchief. + +"'That's all it can do,' said the old man to the mate, bitterly; 'git +this trash on deck as soon as possible, and git her a-waggin' once +more; I've brung her through it safe, and am goin' home,' and with +that he dropped onto the poop as dead as mutton. He had come on deck +bare-headed and with nothin' on but his drawers and shirt, just as he +had laid in his bunk for a fortnight, and the exposure had carried him +off. However, he knowed that the shift were so near nobody ever could +tell. There were no doubt, however, but that his gittin' her weared +round were our salvation. If that gust had a-struck us aback our masts +would have gone sartin, and it's a toss-up but what we'd a-gone down +starn fust afore she'd a-backed round. Next day we giv' old Wiggins a +funeral fit for the Emperor of Rooshy, and he well desarved it. I +don't know as ever I seen a prettier sew-up than we done on him, +wrappin' him first in the American ensign and then kiverin' him with +brand-new No. 4 canvas. Considerin' the sails we'd lost and how much +we needed the canvas, I think he must have been satisfied that we done +the handsome thing by him. The day was beautiful and clear, although +the wind still blowed a gale. We hadn't been able to do much with the +wreck stuff, except git lashin's onto it for to keep it from swingin' +about, and we hadn't dared for to try for to send up another +main-topsail. We had set the reefed mainsail for to steady her, and +that were all. The three to'gallan' masts was still a-hangin' over the +side, and the ribbons of the foresail and fore-topsail was still +a-flutterin' in the breeze, when at eight bells, at midday, all hands +was called for to bury the dead. Everythin' that we had in the way of +nice clothes we had put on for to do honor to our captain, and most of +us was able to sport white shirts and broadcloth. We laid the old man +onto a plank and kivered him with the union jack, and all hands +gathered round him, while Mr. Graham read the sarvice. Everythin' went +lovely, and just at the proper time we tilted the plank, and he +slipped off without a hitch of any kind. Arter the mate finished the +readin', he said, 'Men, there's a good man gone arter a long life of +great usefulness. He were a sailor and a gentleman. I don't think as +we ought for to cry over sich a man, and I propose we giv' him three +cheers and God bless him'; and heartier cheers was never giv' than we +giv' that day, arter which all hands got dinner." + + + + +"----MAS HAS COME." + +BY LEONARD KIP. + +_Overland Monthly, January, 1870._ + + +It was called Beacon Ledge fully fifty years before the present +lighthouse had been built upon it. For it was said that long ago, when +wrecking was a profitable trade along the coast, and goodly vessels +were frequently, by false lights, decoyed to their destruction, there +was no more favorable point for the exercise of that systematic +villainy than this rocky, high-lifted bluff. Projecting three or four +hundred feet into the sea, with a gradually curved, sweeping line, it +formed, to be sure, upon the one side, a limited anchorage--safe +enough for those who knew it; but, upon the other side, it looked upon +a waste of shoal, dotted, here and there, at lowest tide, with craggy +breakers, and, at high water, smooth, smiling, and deceitful, with the +covered dangers. Here, then, upon certain dark and stormy nights, the +flaming beacon of destruction would glow brightly against the black +sky, and wildly lighten up the cruel faces of those who stood by and +piled on the fagots, while gazing eagerly out to sea to mark the +effect of their evil machinations. Nor was it until some thirty years +ago that the gangs of wretches were thoroughly broken up, and this, +their favorite vantage-ground, wrested from them, and the tall, white +lighthouse there securely founded--maintaining in mercy what had +before been held as a blighting curse; lifting itself, like a nation's +warning finger, and with its calm, serene glow, pointing out the path +of safety. Then, in the mouths of all the surrounding inhabitants, +Beacon Ledge became known as Beacon Ledge Beacon, and so kept its +name, in spite of tautological criticism, or of different and more +formal christening, by Government authority. + +Still, there hung around the place the memories or traditions of past +violence, shipwreck, and murder--partly true, perhaps, but, doubtless, +generally false, having only a few grains of fact or probability +mingled with all kinds of distorted fictions--the deeds of pirates +being supplemented to those of mere wreckers; the imaginations of +fishermen along the coast ever inventing plenteous horrors, and wild +tales of buccaneering rovers, originally written for other localities, +being now wilfully adopted and here located, until, at last, there was +hardly a known crime which could not find its origin or counterpart at +Beacon Ledge, and the whole neighboring shore became a melancholy +storehouse of terrors, disaster, and distress. These tales being +discovered to be very pleasing to most strangers, were carefully +cultivated and enlarged upon by each interested denizen of the place; +and to me, also, for awhile, they had a peculiar charm. I seldom +grew tired of hearing some grizzled, tar-incrusted fisherman reel +off his tissue of improbable abominations. For awhile, I say, since +there came, at last, a day when I cared no longer for such bloody +traditions, forgot the shadowy horrors that flitted about the spot, +and only thought and cared for it as the place where I had met and +loved dear little Jessie Barkstead. + +She was the only child of the lighthouse keeper. In a worldly point of +view, therefore, was it wisely done that I should have set my +affections upon her? Possibly not; and it is likely that, had I known +the weakness of my mind, I would have shunned the danger from the very +first. But I was gay and reckless in my poor self-complacency and +deceitful assurance of inner strength; and long before I had fairly +realized how rapidly I was drifting, I found myself whirling down the +swift current, and was lost. Nor was it a marvel that this should have +so happened. To one who sits aloof in his unromantic, distant home, it +is an easy thing, indeed, to moralize about matters of inferior +station and _mesalliance_; but I believe that few could have seen +little Jessie, as she first appeared to me, and not have felt some +secret inclination to give way before those subtile charms of beauty +and manner which invested her. Moreover, let it here be mentioned +that she was not at all of humble birth or education. Old Barkstead +was himself a gentleman by culture and station, and had once been the +master of a gallant ship. In that important position he had been for +many years a pleasant and popular officer; but at length, in an evil +day, through some temporary weakness or neglect, he had lost his +charge, and almost ruined his employers. The world--with what degree +of truth cannot now be told--had charged the loss upon intoxication. A +storm of obloquy and reproach arose. The man, bowed down with +self-abasement and sensitiveness, had yielded to the blast, and +attempted no defence; and, after awhile, obtaining, through some +friendly influence, the custody of the Beacon Light, he had fled, with +his child, to that obscurity, leaving no trace behind him, and caring +only to pass the rest of his life in the quiet of the world's +forgetfulness. + +I was myself the occasional tenant of a lighthouse, for, during a few +weeks of the summer, I had been visiting the Penguin Light, some four +or five miles distant up the coast. It was a tall and far-reaching +structure, standing upon a jutting point of rock--almost the duplicate +of the Beacon Ledge; the two lights glimmering at each other across +the little bay between, and only to be distinguished apart at night by +the different periods of their revolutions. Penguin Light was in the +keeping of old Barry Somers, a long-known and valued sailor-friend of +mine, who, in past days, had taught me to swim, and sail a boat, and +now seemed to regard his office more for the opportunity it gave of +entertaining me than for its actual salaried value. Thither, +therefore, I would often repair during the summer months, avoiding the +usual crowded haunts, and giving preference to old Barry's pleasant +talk and my solitary rambles along the shore; occasionally running out +to sea, that I might speak friendly pilots cruising in the distance; +and now and then, by way of change and innocent attempt at usefulness, +taking my turn at keeping up and watching over the safety of the +lantern-lamps. + +It was during one of my lonely wanderings along the beach, when, with +gun in hand, I made feeble and unsuccessful attempts against the lives +of the merry little sand-pipers, that I first saw Jessie. She sat upon +a rock, and was gazing out at sea. In her hand was a book, which she +was not reading--who, indeed, could read collectedly, with that fresh +breeze lifting such a pleasant array of dancing white-caps, and +rolling inward those strong bodies of surf, which broke upon the shore +with the ring of sportive Titans? Her handkerchief had fallen off her +head, and her curls were flying wantonly in the breeze. I did not, for +the moment, dream that she had any connection with the lighthouse, +but rather that she was a chance city visitor at some inland +country-house; and so I passed on, not venturing to speak with her. +So, also, the next day, and the next--finding her always there when +I passed, as though that particular hollow in the rock was her own +especial, allotted refuge-place. At last, gaining courage from those +frequent meetings, and, perhaps, from the half smile with which she +began to greet my coming, I addressed her; and so the few words of +salutation gradually lengthened into conversation, and, before we were +well conscious of the fact, had ripened into terms of intimacy. + +How swiftly such matters sometimes proceed, when removed from the +stiffness and ceremony of city life! A week only had passed, and I +began to find that all my walks led in that one direction. Jessie was +always at her place, with the uncompleted book in her hands; and I, +going no farther, would seat myself beside her, throw down my useless +gun, let the poor sand-pipers go undismayed, and so prepare for the +comfortable, pleasant conversation of the morning. It was no +unattractive pastime, indeed, to dispose the dry sea-weed for her +seat; and then, placing my head upon another pile, remain half +reclined at her feet, listening to her lively talk, and pretending to +look out upon the blue waves, when, all the while, I was stealthily +gazing into the deeper blue of her eyes. Nor, when I heard her +story--or, so much of it as at first she deigned to tell me--did I +hold her in less respect. The daughter of the lighthouse, indeed! Why, +truly, this should matter nothing at all to me. What interest could I +have in her past or present associations, or how could they, in any +way, detract from her own native grace and loveliness? Were her eyes +less bright, or was her conversation less cheery, or were her +attitudes less picturesque and pleasing, because old Captain +Barkstead, instead of still sailing a fleet merchantman, now mopingly +cleaned his reflectors, and, when strangers came, hid himself in the +lantern? Moreover, had she not brought with her from her former home, +wherever that might be, a wit, and intellect, and intelligence which +might adorn any position? What more could be needful in promotion of a +quiet sea-side flirtation? In a week or ten days I should go away, and +no longer see her. I should carry off with me the memories of a very +pleasant face, that had always brightened up whenever I came near; and +then, as, after awhile, new forms and scenes came between, I would, of +course, forget her. For a time, she might possibly look out longingly +after my return, and, finding that I did not come back, might--well, +not exactly lose memory of me, I hoped. It was to be desired, perhaps, +that a few thoughts of me would always tinge her future life, I argued +with something of man's selfishness. I would not, indeed, that she +should make herself miserable about me; but if, when her face had +faded from my thoughts, some little record of myself should pleasantly +remain with her, and now and then bring a transitory pang of musing +regret, who should say nay? + +Therefore, in time, I went away. I did not steal off without farewell. +That would have been but sorry recompense for the many cheery hours +she had given me. But, taking her hand in mine, I gave to her my +heartfelt thanks for all the pleasant past, and my cordial wishes for +the future. I did not know that I should ever meet her again, I said. +I hoped, however, that she would not too soon forget me. It was in my +heart to utter more tender and sentimental words than I had any right +to use, but I repressed the inclination. I cherished, too a secret +hope that she would show some sorrow for my departure; but, if she +felt any at all, she did not allow her expression, or her color, to +betray her. With quiet self-possession, yet with a certain interest, +too--as when one gives up a pleasant, valued friend--she bade me +adieu; and so, lifting from her feet the ever-harmless gun, I passed +away, round the border of the little bay, and returned to the city. + +There, however, somewhat to my surprise, I failed to forget her; and +wherever I went, the image of that light, graceful form, seated upon +the rock, began to obtrude itself upon my thoughts. Of course, it was +only a fleeting impression, I reasoned with myself, and would soon +disappear again, as newer scenes and faces forced themselves upon me; +and I plunged rather more wildly than usual into society. But the +proposed remedy did not have its due effect. In fact, it happened that +the routine of gayety and formality seemed, by contrast, to aid the +former impressions, making them seem more real and life-like than +ever. It could not be that I was falling in love! But yet I could not +fail to confess a strange interest; and, while knowing that I was in +danger, was content to let myself drift whither the current might +carry me. + +"I will see her once more. There was something I forgot to tell her +when we parted last," I said to myself, trying in vain to establish +and believe in a transparent self-deceit. "It was about a book, or +something. It weighs upon my mind that she should deem me neglectful +of her wishes. Once more, therefore, and then--" + +"Where away, so late in the autumn?" inquired a friend, who saw me +starting out. + +"Down the bay, blue-fishing!" I exclaimed. "Just the real time for +it." + +"Ah? Well, good-by, then! Rather too cold sport for me, though!" + +Therefore, I saw Jessie again--and yet again after that. Why should I +not confess it?--or, after what I have already told, what is there +left for me to confess, at all? For now, at last, I began to +acknowledge to myself that it was not mere friendship or esteem I +felt, but, rather, the more overpowering passion of real love. Gone, +like a thin veil of vapor, were all my sophistries about a limited +Platonic interest; my dread of incongruous association; my resolves +against possible rashnesses; my fear of the world or its senseless +gossip; my prudence, or my self-restraint! These all seemed to vanish +in a day; and, yielding myself, slavishly, a willing captive to bright +eyes and silvery tones, upon one fine morning I passed the Rubicon of +safety, and offered her my hand and heart. But, to my sore dismay, +she only softly shook her head. + +"You do not love me, then?" I murmured. I spoke not merely with sorrow +and disappointment, but with something of wounded pride--feeling +mortified that she had not at once accepted my devotion. Certainly, it +had seemed to me, all along, that I was not disagreeable to her; and +there was no doubt that in her manner, at least, she had always +cordially welcomed my approach, and taken pleasure in my company. + +"I do not know--I hardly yet can tell!" she faintly said, drawing her +hand from mine. "To me, you are my best and dearest friend; perhaps, +the only one whom I can really call my friend. I know how glad I +always feel when you come hither; how lonely I am while you stay away. +But this I do not think is love--the real, true love which I should +wish to feel." + +"But can it never be?" I pleaded. + +"How can I tell? It might come to that, at last; and yet--" She +ceased, and there came over her face a strange, dead look at the sea +before her--a straining gaze, as though she would fix her eyes far +beyond, in another hemisphere, oblivious of the present. + +"Yet tell me, Jessie, have I a rival? This, at least, you might let me +know. I will not go further, nor will I ask his name." + +For a moment she did not answer: still sitting, with that strange, +rapt, straining gaze, and with an unconscious, mechanical motion, +rolling the little sand pebbles down the side of the rock. + +"There was one," she said, at length. "I hardly know how to tell you +about it. I believe that I cared for him, and yet I never told him so; +nor did he ever tell me that he loved or cared for me, and yet, at the +time, I thought that he did. It was some time ago--a very long time, +it often seems to me; nor do I suppose that he and I will ever meet +again. And now you know almost as much about it as I do myself," she +continued, turning more fully toward me. "Or what more can I say? +There was no pledge given on either side--no uttered words--and, of +course, it has all gone by. But now and then, when I think about it, I +feel regret; and it seems to me as though it were a different and +stronger feeling than that which I have for you. Whether I am mistaken +in my feelings, or how or what I really think, perhaps I cannot well +tell; I am only a simple girl, after all, and know so very little +about love, or what love truly is." + +"Yet, Jessie dear," I pleaded, "if you look upon that old matter as +buried and gone--which, doubtless, it must be--why think longer about +it, instead of turning to the new and truer affection which now I +offer you? Believe me, you are letting your mind dwell merely upon a +dream of the past--one of those vain fancies of girlhood, which, +though for the time they may control the mind, have no real, vital +activity or force." + +"It may be so," she said, in a sort of saddened, half-regretful tone. +"Indeed, it must be so; and it might be that when the influence has +passed away, I may find that I have cared for you better than I have +imagined. I know that, even now, you seem dear to me as a friend, and +that you are kind to me, making me always happy at your coming; yet, +at the same time, I think that there is something wanting in it +all--something which is not love. You see that I am very plain with +you. Better, then, to leave me; is it not so? For I cannot now give +you my heart; nor do I know whether, in the future, I can better do +so; and it is not right that I should keep you at my side, hoping or +expecting what, after all, may never come." + +"Nay, I will not leave you for all that, my Jessie," I said, +impulsively. "I will still remain at your side, and trust even to the +mere chance that, at some future period, you may relent." + +Therefore, dropping the subject for that time, I remained, and sought, +by new kindnesses and attentions, to win some final increase of her +favor toward me, but feeling, at the same time, a little sore and +angry with myself. For, how wretchedly was I now maintaining that +proper independence of spirit, which I had always insisted even the +most blinded and devoted of lovers should feel! Had it not been my +cherished theory that no man should surrender his freedom of heart +without obtaining in return the utmost, unlimited, and unselfish +devotion? Yet, here I was giving up my whole soul to a blind passion, +rendered more and more absorbing, doubtless, by the opposition I +experienced, and for response I found myself willing to be content +with even the cinders of a former and only half-dead affection; +trusting, as so many men have vainly trusted, that by earnest care and +assiduity, I might, at last, re-illume the fading spark, and make its +new brightness glow for me. + +So passed the autumn, during which I made frequent journeys between +coast and city; striving, at times, with the cares of business to +drive her image from my mind, and finding myself continually drawn +back again to that quiet nook which, gifted with her presence, had +become to me the brightest and only happy spot on earth. These +frequent departures, so contrary to my usual habit, soon began to +excite the inquiries and surmises of my friends. Fishing and shooting +protracted into the season so far as almost to touch the edge of the +winter, no longer served as satisfactory excuses for my absences; and +there were some among my friends, who, in their speculations, came +very near the truth, and hinted suspicions of some rustic passion. But +still, turning off their insinuations with a laugh, I kept my +secret--holding it the more carefully and earnestly, as I now began to +see hope dawning for me in the future. + +For now, at last, it seemed as if I was about to prosper in my suit. +Each time that I came, Jessie appeared yet more pleased to see +me--more willing to give me that attractive confidence which can only +exist in full perfection between acknowledged lovers; less disposed to +analyze her mind's emotion with any critical severity, or speculate +whether this or that feeling had, or had not, passed the line between +friendship and love; more ready, at times, to surrender the struggle +and self-examination, confess herself vanquished, and yield up her +whole heart to my keeping. But not quite yet. + +"A little longer," she pleaded. "Let me feel somewhat more sure of +myself before--" + +"And how much longer, then, Jessie?" + +"Till Christmas, George. When Christmas comes, I will either be all +your own, or will send you away forever. Will not that do?" + +"It must, perforce, if I cannot gain better terms," I answered; and I +returned once more to my city life. It was my fixed intention to +remain there resolutely until the Christmas morning itself had come; +but at last, unable to maintain the suspense, I stole back to the +beach once more. It was now only two days from the time. The air was +colder, of course, so that Jessie no longer took her place outside +upon the rock; but we could sit and talk in the shelter of the +lighthouse door, undisturbed by old Barkstead, who usually fretted and +moped out of sight, about half way up the shaft. + +"Only two days more, dear Jessie," I said, "and then-- Will it be well +with me, do you think?" + +"I think--I begin to think it will be well," she said, looking away. + +"Then, if so you think, why should you longer delay your choice?" I +pleaded. + +"Nay, George, it is only two days more. Let it, then, remain as first +we said, and we shall be the better satisfied at having held out to +the proper end." + +Gaining nothing more from her, but feeling, in my own mind, well +assured of ultimate success, I prepared to depart. Not to return to +the city, indeed, for that would scarcely be worth while for such a +little interval--but to the Penguin Light, where Barry Somers, as +usual, had a place ready for me. But, as I was leaving, a sudden idea +struck me--a wild, foolish fancy, it might be--yet, coming, as it did, +with a certain investiture of originality, it fastened itself firmly +and tenaciously upon me, and with animation I returned upon my steps. + +"Listen, dear Jessie!" I said. "Until Christmas morning, therefore, I +will not see you again, for I do not wish thus vainly to renew my +pleadings, and it will be pleasanter to know that when I meet you once +more, it will be with sweet confession on your lips, and the +permission to look upon you thenceforward as my own. But still, while +we are thus separated, can we not commune together?" + +"How, George?" + +"With the lights, dear Jessie. See here, now! Mark how easily we can +arrange our signalling, so that, across the intervening miles, we can +flash our secret intelligence, and no one but ourselves be the wiser! +Look!--I will now write you out some signs, and with them, at night, +we will hold our intercourse. This very evening I will control the +lamps at Penguin Light, and you shall read what I will therewith tell +you. To-morrow you will answer me from here; and I, in turn, will +decipher your sweet words. Will not that be a rare, as well as +pleasant correspondence?" + +At the suggestion, her eyes brightened up with animated excitement, +and at once she prepared to second my plan. How, indeed, could a young +girl help approving of such a novel conception? To talk with +beacon-lights across five miles of foaming, heaving waters, when all +around was dark and dreary!--to flash from one sympathetic heart to +another the glowing signals of intelligence comprehended by no other +persons!--would not that be an achievement which would not only give +pleasure in the actual present performance of it, but also in the +recollection of it throughout future years? So, sitting down again, +she eagerly listened to me, while I, drawing a paper from my pocket, +noted down the requisite tokens, something after the usual signs +employed in ordinary telegraphy--short and simple--and left them in +her possession. I saw at once that she comprehended the principle; so, +feeling no doubt that she would well perform her part, I departed, +reading, in her pleased consciousness of sharing that novel secret +with me, such probable indications of affection, that, for the moment, +I could scarcely resist once more throwing myself upon her pity, and +asking instant assurance of my happiness. + +But I forbore. Were I now to win her, in anticipation of that +predetermined Christmas-day, might it not take something from the zest +of the coming midnight correspondence? + +So, controlling myself, I returned to Penguin Light. I had been a +little troubled with the idea that, perhaps, I might not be able to +manage the matter, after all; but, almost to my joy, I found old Barry +complaining of his rheumatism, hobbling about, and looking wrathfully +up the winding stairs, in surly deprecation of his approaching ascent. +Upon which I seized the favorable opportunity, and, while relieving +him, forwarded my own views. + +"Let it alone for this night, Barry. Do you stay down here and make +yourself comfortable, and I will keep watch in the lantern, and tend +the lights." + +"And can you keep awake, Georgy, my boy, do you think?" + +"Of course I can, Barry." + +Whereupon, for sole answer, Barry stumped away into the closet +below--which he called his room--laid himself carefully away upon +his old blankets, and I mounted to the lantern. There--the hour +of sundown having come--I lighted the lamps, and awaited my time. +That was still some hours off; I was to do nothing until midnight. +Meanwhile, I laid myself down to take a nap. I had promised +watchfulness, but it was hardly necessary in the beginning of the +night. The wicks were then fresh, and it was not likely that any +accident could happen. It was only toward the end of the night, when +the wicks might become incrusted or the reflectors dimmed, that +especial care was needed. + +I awoke again about midnight, the hour appointed for the commencement +of my feat. The sky had clouded over, and not a star was to be seen. +All the better, indeed, for the experiment; for now there was no light +to be seen in any direction, except where down the coast glimmered the +Beacon Ledge Beacon--now faintly coming around the side, then glowing +for a second like the mouth of a distant furnace, as its full focus of +reflectors was pointed directly at me, then fading away, and so, for +an instant, entirely disappearing, as it turned slowly toward the +south. With the thick bank of clouds had come a cold wind from the +north, premonitory of an approaching storm, though it might be days +before it reached us--the only change to be now noted being the +somewhat heavier swell of the surf, rolling up with a dull, sullen +roar along the curve of the rock-bound shore. + +I prepared for action. As I sat in the lantern, the great brazen +frame of polished reflectors swung around, once in each minute, within +a few inches of the side. Beneath was the projecting handle of a +crank, or lever, by pressing upon which the revolution could be +instantly arrested. Stooping down, I could sit at ease, with my head +clear from any contact with the lamps, and in that position could have +the lever-handle within easy reach. + +Waiting for a moment until the reflectors pointed directly toward +Beacon Ledge, I pressed upon the crank, and thereby suspended the +revolution. Thus inert and motionless I held the machinery for a full +minute, and then, lifting the rod, allowed the circuit to recommence, +and gazed anxiously toward the other lighthouse. For a moment, no +response; but then, as its reflectors came slowly around and pointed +toward me, they, too, ceased in their motion for a full minute. With +that my heart exulted. My signal for conversation had been seen and +answered. So far, all went satisfactorily, and there was nothing left +but to commence the main business of the night. + +What should I talk to Jessie about? I could not frame any lengthy +sentences, indeed--for that, time and patience would not suffice. Nor +could I tell her any especial piece of news: all such matters had +already been discussed between us. Nor did it seem any thing but +ridiculous to repeat, in such a labored manner, any of the ordinary +commonplaces about health, or the time, or weather. The most I could +do, in fact, would be to telegraph some short and simple idea, +expressive of my affection for her, and of my ardent faith in its +coming realization. This she would comprehend, and, like a proverb, it +would tell, in brief, a whole long story. + +Watching until the reflectors again came round, I seized the lever, +held the machinery in suspense for a whole minute, and then set it +free again. Another circuit, and this time I arrested the motion for +only fifteen seconds. A third, and here again a suspension of a whole +minute. In this way, by putting the three circuits together, I had +contrived to spell out the letter C--as in a telegraph office the +operator would write a letter, though probably not the same one, with +a long, a short, and a long scratch upon the paper slip. + +Again: and now I let the reflectors remain stationary, first, for a +minute, then twice for fifteen seconds each. This--a long, and two +short arrestations--spelled the letter H. So, little by little, I +wrote out with the lighthouse flash against the dark sky the simple +sentence, + + "_Christmas is coming._" + +It was plain and expressive. It spoke to Jessie of the approaching +day, when she should make her long-deferred decision, and when I so +ardently anticipated that she would be mine. It reminded her that the +time was now only a few hours distant. It told her that even those few +hours were almost too long for me to wait. It was a short message, +indeed, but the difficulty of thus spelling it out, letter by letter, +made it long enough. Already, ere I had finished, my arm, as well as +my attention, was fatigued; and when, at last, I made the long signal +of conclusion, and gained, in reply, the token that I had been +comprehended, I felt that I had done enough for one night, at least. + +Then, remaining awake, with some difficulty, until morning came, I put +out the lights, and went down to see after old Barry. He was better; +his rheumatism had not troubled him as much as he had feared; he would +get up, and himself trim the lights for the coming night, and I had +better lie down and rest. Which I gladly did, for I was tired, indeed, +and began to have a suspicion that, though lighthouse telegraphy might +be a pleasant excitement for once, it was inferior, as a steady means +of communication, to the regularly established mails. So, I slept the +sleep of the weary, if not of the just; and the morning was far +advanced when I awoke. + +The new day was not stormy, as I had partly anticipated it would be, +nor yet was it clear and beautiful. The gale seemed slowly coming on, +but had not quite reached us. The sky was thick with scudding clouds, +racing wildly from north to south; the air was cold and cheerless; the +sea rolled in with a more powerful swell than usual, breaking along +the shore with a boom like that of heavy artillery. The gulls flew +to and fro, screaming and unsettled; a few coasting schooners, +apprehensive of mischief, had put into the land-locked bay and there +lay at anchor, awaiting better weather; and in one place, the +fishermen were dragging their boats away back to the foot of the +bluff, so as to avoid the still heavier swell which must erelong come. +Yet, for all that, the storm had not commenced, and I could easily +have walked over to Beacon Ledge and made my daily visit. + +But still I forbore. I had already told Jessie that I should not see +her again until I came to hear the decision of my fate, and I resolved +that I would be firm. Would it not, beside, spoil the whole romance of +our midnight correspondence were I to visit her again so soon? I had +signalled a greeting to her. What a lowering of sentiment it would be +if now I were to obtain her response in commonplace manner, by mere +word of mouth, instead of by the bright sheen of the lighthouse +itself! Nay, that would never do. So, killing the heavy hours as best +I could, I loitered up and down the beach, shooting at the gulls as +ineffectually as I had before shot at the sand-pipers; watching the +course of a few frightened vessels, which still continued to make for +that little harbor of refuge; and, like a child, making sand-forts on +the beach, for the pleasure of seeing them washed away again by the +next heavy swell. + +Night came at last; and, as before, I volunteered to relieve Barry of +the care of the lamps, and allow him additional opportunity to nurse +his rheumatism. As before, he made some feeble show of hesitation, by +way of reconciling his mind to the proffered rest, and then readily +succumbed. + +"Be it so, Georgy, my boy," he said. "That is, if you are not already +too tired. But I don't feel as bad now as last night, and may yet +crawl up and relieve you." + +"Take it easy, Barry," I said. "It is not much trouble for me. I could +stand it this fashion for a week." + +With that I left him alone in his snuggery, and climbed the stairs +to the top. As upon the previous evening, I lighted the lamps, set +the machine in motion, and then curled myself down in a corner of +the floor to rest till midnight. I did not at once fall asleep, +however. The gale, which had been preparing for the last thirty hours, +now began to come in force, disturbing me with the sound of the +wind--whistling shrilly through every crack and crevice--while the +lighthouse itself constantly trembled with the blast. Even at that +height, I could hear the sullen dash of the breakers against the +shore; and once I could see, by the tremulous movement of lights far +out to the eastward, that a large steamer was passing, and was +laboring toilsomely with a more than usually heavy sea. She was in no +danger, however, and gradually passed away from my line of vision. +Then, at last, I fell asleep, though not into the soft, quiet slumber +which I usually enjoyed. Even in my dreams the tempest followed me, +filling my mind with distorted imaginings. The old stories, which I +had so often heard and of late had forgotten, about pirates, and +wrecks, and wreckers, and cruelties perpetrated upon the beach, now +seemed to take actual life and reality. I could see the dismasted +vessels struggling among the breakers, and the rows of hard, fierce, +expectant faces lining the shore, and awaiting the turning up of the +dead bodies. I was a dead body myself, even, and was being washed up +on the beach, already drowned beyond hope of resuscitation, and yet +strangely conscious of all that went on around me. A hand was placed +roughly upon me, as I lay motionless upon the sand. Then, gaining new +life, I cried aloud, and, waking, found old Barry leaning over me, and +shaking me into consciousness. + +"Look over yonder, Georgy, my boy, at the Beacon Point," he said. "See +how strangely the lights are acting. What do you make of it all?" + +I looked, and saw that the reflectors were pointing, motionless, +toward me--resting there for a full minute; then they swept around +slowly in their accustomed course, and again paused for a minute. +Thereby I deciphered the letter M, and started into full and instant +animation. I had, of course, overslept myself, and thereby, probably, +lost a portion of Jessie's dear message. How much of it, indeed? + +"What is the hour, Barry?" + +"Half-past twelve," he said. "But what do you make of yonder +business? Is it some accident to the works, do you think?--or has old +Barkstead gone on a spree again, as they say he once did, and is now +playing fast and loose with the lights?" + +While he had been speaking, new revolutions, broken, by longer or +shorter pauses, had succeeded; and I deciphered the additional letters +A and S. + +"Whatever it may be, Barry," I then answered--forcing myself to attend +to him, and feeling a little guilty for being obliged to keep the +mysterious secret from him--"don't you see that nothing can be done +about it, now? Go, therefore, to bed again. This cold lantern is no +place for you to remain in. And to-morrow, bright and early, I will go +out myself, and ascertain what may be the matter." + +With that, I gently pushed Barry down the first two or three steps, +and heard him go grumbling and puffing the rest of the way to his own +nook. Meanwhile, the bright signalling from Beacon Point went +on--letter after letter--until, at last, I read out the whole +sentence: + + "_----mas has come._" + +"Christmas has come!" This, of course, was the completion of the +message; for it was not now difficult to supply those letters which, +through my tardy awakening, I had missed. My heart bounded high with +joy and exultation. Sanguinely as I had anticipated a favorable +verdict at Jessie's hands, my utmost hopes had never asked for such a +frank and instant admission of her preference as this. To be reminded, +at the very first stroke of the midnight hour, that the important day +for decision had arrived: what was this but being told that the day +should bring its blessing with it?--that Jessie herself had awaited +its approach as eagerly as I had, feeling as acutely the delay?--that +now there should be no more disguise or misconstruction between us? +Christmas had come! It was, indeed, a frank and noble response to my +message of the night before, telling me that now, at last, she had +surrendered her heart to my safe-keeping. Had it been possible, I +would have run over at once to Beacon Ledge, and pressed her to my +heart. But, of course, not the tempest merely forbade. I must wait +until the more suitable time of morning, still many hours off. +Therefore, composing myself as well as possible for quiet waiting, I +sat, during the remainder of the night, musing over my pleasant +prospects, and watching anxiously for the first ray of morning. + +It came at last--later than usual, for the tempest had not yet abated, +and the approach of day was to be noted rather by the gradual +lightening of the atmosphere, than by any gleam of eastern dawn. Then +I extinguished the lights, stopped the machinery, and descended to old +Barry. + +"I will now cross over to the Beacon Ledge," I said, "and find out +what was the matter last night." + +"Without your breakfast, boy?" growled the old man. + +But what did I care for breakfast! My heart was too full of joy to +care for any carnal needs; and, therefore, with some lame excuse for +my hurry, and a guilty sense of continued deception weighing upon my +mind, I set off, promising a speedy return. The task that I had set +myself was no trifle, and I could not wonder at the solemn shake of +the head with which Barry watched my departure. The tempest was at its +height, and a blinding sheet of rain and ocean-spray drove wildly into +my face at each step. The breakers dashed furiously upon the beach--so +furiously, indeed, that the usual route along the hard-pressed sand +had become impassable, and I was obliged to take a higher path +through the loose, yielding pebbles. But I persevered bravely and +determinedly, though so sorely fettered in my steps, and buffeted in +my face, and, after nearly two hours, reached the other lighthouse. + +I entered without ceremony, and, in the angle of the first flight of +stairs--our usual trysting-place ever since the lateness of the season +had denied us the rock by the sea-side--I found dear Jessie. But +she was not alone. Beside her, and too near, I thought, sat a +pleasant-faced young man, who, at my approach, arose, and with a +miserably counterfeited affectation of indifference, sauntered away. +Jessie also arose, and with whitened face, came forward. + +"Why are you here?" she murmured. "Did I not signal it all to you, so +that you might know the truth, and spare both yourself and me this +meeting?" + +"What do you mean?" I gasped. + +"Did you not understand me, after all, kind friend? You know, indeed, +that I once told you how I had loved another. I had no expectation of +seeing him again, it is true. He was far away with his vessel when we +departed from our little village, leaving, as you know, not a trace +behind us; and, therefore, there was no way in which the secret of our +present retreat could be learned by any one. Nor could I write to him +and tell him, for he had not yet spoken to me of love, and I did not +know but what he would choose, in the end, to forget me. But Fate, +after all, is sometimes kind. Searching for me, without any trace to +guide him, he had almost despaired, when, the night before this last, +coming in from sea, he saw the Penguin Light; and noticing how, while +you were signalling to me, at times it stopped for a moment, he +thought it was the Upper Roadstead Light, and so ran in and made this +little harbor by mistake. Thereby it was that we have chanced to meet +again." + +"But, Jessie, you signalled to me that--" + +"I signalled that Thomas had come. Did you not comprehend? Or can it +be that I had never happened to mention his name to you?" + +"Ah!" I feebly exclaimed, the light breaking in upon me; "Thomas was +the word, then, was it? I thought--but no matter now for my thoughts. +Well, farewell, Jessie. There can be no good word or wish that any one +may give you that will not always be uttered twofold from my heart. +You know it, kind friend, do you not?" + +"I know it, George, indeed," she said. + +And, tearing myself from her, I returned to city life. There I gave +myself once more up to business and its cares, in hopes of drowning my +disappointment; and now, after long months of sad regret, I have +nearly succeeded, and have become myself again. But, at times, I lie +awake in the middle of the night and listen to the city's roar, and in +the sound I seem to hear once more the play of breakers on the shore +at Beacon Ledge; and then I think, with sadness, how different might +have been my lot, had I not so foolishly determined to utter, with the +lighthouse lamps, and so many miles across, those words of greeting +which should have been softly whispered instead, by lowly pleading +lips, into closely attentive, willing ears. + + + + +TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE: + +Minor changes have been made to correct typesetters' errors; otherwise +every effort has been made to remain true to the authors' words and +intent. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Stories by American Authors, Volume 9, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STORIES--AMERICAN AUTHORS, VOL 9 *** + +***** This file should be named 31194.txt or 31194.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/1/1/9/31194/ + +Produced by D Alexander, Juliet Sutherland and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +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. 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