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diff --git a/32845-h/32845-h.htm b/32845-h/32845-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..fa6924b --- /dev/null +++ b/32845-h/32845-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,18168 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> +<HTML> +<HEAD> + +<META HTTP-EQUIV="Content-Type" CONTENT="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1"> + +<TITLE> +The Project Gutenberg E-text of International Short Stories (American) +</TITLE> + +<STYLE TYPE="text/css"> +BODY { color: Black; + background: White; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; + text-align: justify } + +P {text-indent: 4% } + +P.noindent {text-indent: 0% } + +P.poem {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; } + +P.letter {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +P.footnote {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 80%; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +P.intro {font-size: 80% ; + text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +IMG.imgcenter { margin-left: auto; + margin-bottom: 0; + margin-top: 1%; + margin-right: auto; } + +</STYLE> + +</HEAD> + +<BODY> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of International Short Stories, 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: International Short Stories + American + +Author: Various + +Editor: William Patten + +Release Date: June 16, 2010 [EBook #32845] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK INTERNATIONAL SHORT STORIES *** + + + + +Produced by Al Haines + + + + + +</pre> + + +<BR><BR> + +<A NAME="img-front"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG CLASS="imgcenter" SRC="images/img-front.jpg" ALT="Anna Katharine Green" BORDER="0" WIDTH="397" HEIGHT="545"> +</CENTER> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +INTERNATIONAL SHORT STORIES +</H2> + +<BR><BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +EDITED BY +<BR> +WILLIAM PATTEN +<BR><BR> +A NEW COLLECTION OF<BR> +FAMOUS EXAMPLES<BR> +FROM THE LITERATURES<BR> +OF ENGLAND, FRANCE<BR> +AND AMERICA<BR> +</H3> + +<BR><BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +AMERICAN +</H3> + +<BR><BR> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +P F COLLIER & SON +<BR> +NEW YORK +</H4> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H5 ALIGN="center"> +Copyright, 1910 +<BR> +BY P. F. COLLIER & SON +<BR><BR> +The use of the copyrighted stories in this collection has <BR> +been authorized in each case by their authors <BR> +or by their representatives. +</H5> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +AMERICAN STORIES +</H3> + +<TABLE ALIGN="center" WIDTH="100%"> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top" WIDTH="60%"> +<A HREF="#chap01">THE PROPHETIC PICTURES</A> +</TD> + +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top" WIDTH="40%"> + By Nathaniel Hawthorne +</TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap02">THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW</A> +</TD> + +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top"> + By Washington Irving +</TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap03">THE GOLD-BUG</A> +</TD> + +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top"> + By Edgar Allan Poe +</TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap04">CORPORAL FLINT'S MURDER</A><BR> + (From "The Oak Openings") +</TD> + +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top"> + By J. Fenimore Cooper +</TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap05">UNCLE JIM AND UNCLE BILLY</A> +</TD> + +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top"> +By Bret Harte +</TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap06">THE NOTARY OF PERIGUEUX</A> +</TD> + +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top"> + By H. W. Longfellow +</TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap07">THE WIDOW'S CRUISE</A> +</TD> + +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top"> +By F. R. Stockton +</TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap08">THE COUNT AND THE WEDDING QUEST</A> +</TD> + +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top"> + By O. Henry +</TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap09">MISS TOOKER'S WEDDING GIFT</A> +</TD> + +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top"> + By John Kendrick Bangs +</TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap10">THE FABLE OF THE TWO MANDOLIN PLAYERS AND + THE WILLING PERFORMER</A> +</TD> + +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top"> + By George Ade +</TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap11">THE FABLE OF THE PREACHER WHO FLEW HIS KITE, + BUT NOT BECAUSE HE WISHED TO DO SO</A> +</TD> + +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top"> + By George Ade +</TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap12">THE SHADOWS ON THE WALL</A> +</TD> + +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top"> + By Mary E. Wilkins Freeman +</TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap13">MAJOR PERDUE'S BARGAIN</A> +</TD> + +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top"> + By Joel Chandler Harris +</TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap14">A KENTUCKY CINDERELLA</A> +</TD> + +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top"> + By F. Hopkinson Smith +</TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap15">BY THE WATERS OF PARADISE</A> +</TD> + +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top"> + By F. Marion Crawford +</TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap16">A MEMORABLE NIGHT</A> +</TD> + +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top"> +By Anna Katharine Green +</TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap17">THE MAN FROM RED DOG</A> +</TD> + +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top"> + By Alfred Henry Lewis +</TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap18">JEAN MICHAUD'S LITTLE SHIP</A> +</TD> + +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top"> + By Charles G. D. Roberts +</TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap19">THOSE OLD LUNES!</A> +</TD> + +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top"> +By W. Gilmore Simms +</TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap20">THE CHIROPODIST</A> +</TD> + +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top"> + By Bayard Taylor +</TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap21">"MR. DOOLEY ON CORPORAL PUNISHMENT"</A> +</TD> + +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top"> + By F. P. Dunne +</TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap22">OVER A WOOD FIRE</A> +</TD> + +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top"> + Donald G. Mitchell--"Ik Marvel" +</TD> +</TR> + +</TABLE> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap01"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE PROPHETIC PICTURES[<A NAME="chap01fn1text"></A><A HREF="#chap01fn1">1</A>] +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +By NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE +</H4> + +<P CLASS="footnote"> +<A NAME="chap01fn1"></A> +[<A HREF="#chap01fn1text">1</A>] This story was suggested by an anecdote of Stuart, related in +Dunlap's "History of the Arts of Design"—a most entertaining book to +the general reader, and a deeply interesting one, we should think, to +the artist. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +"But this painter!" cried Walter Ludlow, with animation. "He not only +excels in his peculiar art, but possesses vast acquirements in all +other learning and science. He talks Hebrew with Dr. Mather, and gives +lectures in anatomy to Dr. Boylston. In a word, he will meet the best +instructed man among us, on his own ground. Moreover, he is a polished +gentleman—a citizen of the world—yes, a true cosmopolite; for he will +speak like a native of each clime and country on the globe, except our +own forests, whither he is now going. Nor is all this what I most +admire in him." +</P> + +<P> +"Indeed!" said Elinor, who had listened with a woman's interest to the +description of such a man. "Yet this is admirable enough." +</P> + +<P> +"Surely it is," replied her lover, "but far less so than his natural +gift of adapting himself to every variety of character, insomuch that +all men—and all women too, Elinor—shall find a mirror of themselves +in this wonderful painter. But the greatest wonder is yet to be told." +</P> + +<P> +"Nay, if he have more wonderful attributes than these," said Elinor, +laughing, "Boston is a perilous abode for the poor gentleman. Are you +telling me of a painter, or a wizard?" +</P> + +<P> +"In truth," answered he, "that question might be asked much more +seriously than you suppose. They say that he paints not merely a man's +features, but his mind and heart. He catches the secret sentiments and +passions, and throws them upon the canvas, like sunshine—or perhaps, +in the portraits of dark-souled men, like a gleam of infernal fire. It +is an awful gift," added Walter, lowering his voice from its tone of +enthusiasm. "I shall be almost afraid to sit to him." +</P> + +<P> +"Walter, are you in earnest?" exclaimed Elinor. +</P> + +<P> +"For Heaven's sake, dearest Elinor, do not let him paint the look which +you now wear," said her lover, smiling, though rather perplexed. +"There: it is passing away now, but when you spoke you seemed +frightened to death, and very sad besides. What were you thinking of?" +</P> + +<P> +"Nothing, nothing," answered Elinor, hastily. "You paint my face with +your own fantasies. Well, come for me to-morrow, and we will visit +this wonderful artist." +</P> + +<P> +But when the young man had departed, it cannot be denied that a +remarkable expression was again visible on the fair and youthful face +of his mistress. It was a sad and anxious look, little in accordance +with what should have been the feelings of a maiden on the eve of +wedlock. Yet Walter Ludlow was the chosen of her heart. +</P> + +<P> +"A look!" said Elinor to herself. "No wonder that it startled him, if +it expressed what I sometimes feel. I know, by my own experience, how +frightful a look may be. But it was all fancy. I thought nothing of +it at the time—I have seen nothing of it since—I did but dream it." +</P> + +<P> +And she busied herself about the embroidery of a ruff, in which she +meant that her portrait should be taken. +</P> + +<P> +The painter of whom they had been speaking was not one of those native +artists who, at a later period than this, borrowed their colors from +the Indians, and manufactured their pencils of the furs of wild beasts. +Perhaps, if he could have revoked his life and prearranged his destiny, +he might have chosen to belong to that school without a master, in the +hope of being at least original, since there were no works of art to +imitate, nor rules to follow. But he had been born and educated in +Europe. People said that he had studied the grandeur or beauty of +conception, and every touch of the master-hand, in all the most famous +pictures, in cabinets and galleries, and on the walls of churches, till +there was nothing more for his powerful mind to learn. Art could add +nothing to its lessons, but Nature might. He had therefore visited a +world whither none of his professional brethren had preceded him, to +feast his eyes on visible images that were noble and picturesque, yet +had never been transferred to canvas. America was too poor to afford +other temptations to an artist of eminence, though many of the colonial +gentry, on the painter's arrival, had expressed a wish to transmit +their lineaments to posterity by means of his skill. Whenever such +proposals were made, he fixed his piercing eyes on the applicant, and +seemed to look him through and through. If he beheld only a sleek and +comfortable visage, though there were a gold-laced coat to adorn the +picture, and golden guineas to pay for it, he civilly rejected the task +and the reward. But if the face were the index of anything uncommon, +in thought, sentiment, or experience; or if he met a beggar in the +street, with a white beard and a furrowed brow; or if sometimes a child +happened to look up and smile; he would exhaust all the art on them +that he denied to wealth. +</P> + +<P> +Pictorial skill being so rare in the colonies, the painter became an +object of general curiosity. If few or none could appreciate the +technical merit of his productions, yet there were points in regard to +which the opinion of the crowd was as valuable as the refined judgment +of the amateur. He watched the effect that each picture produced on +such untutored beholders, and derived profit from their remarks, while +they would as soon have thought of instructing Nature herself as him +who seemed to rival her. Their admiration, it must be owned, was +tinctured with the prejudices of the age and country. Some deemed it +an offence against the Mosaic law, and even a presumptuous mockery of +the Creator, to bring into existence such lively images of His +creatures. Others, frightened at the art which could raise phantoms at +will, and keep the form of the dead among the living, were inclined to +consider the painter as a magician, or perhaps the famous Black Man, of +old witch-times, plotting mischief in a new guise. These foolish +fancies were more than half believed among the mob. Even in superior +circles, his character was invested with a vague awe, partly rising +like smoke-wreaths from the popular superstitions, but chiefly caused +by the varied knowledge and talents which he made subservient to his +profession. +</P> + +<P> +Being on the eve of marriage, Walter Ludlow and Elinor were eager to +obtain their portraits, as the first of what, they doubtless hoped, +would be a long series of family pictures. The day after the +conversation above recorded, they visited the painter's rooms. A +servant ushered them into an apartment, where, though the artist +himself was not visible, there were personages whom they could hardly +forbear greeting with reverence. They knew, indeed, that the whole +assembly were but pictures, yet felt it impossible to separate the idea +of life and intellect from such striking counterfeits. Several of the +portraits were known to them, either as distinguished characters of the +day, or their private acquaintances. There was Governor Burnet, +looking as if he had just received an undutiful communication from the +House of Representatives, and were inditing a most sharp response. Mr. +Cooke hung beside the ruler whom he opposed, sturdy, and somewhat +puritanical, as befitted a popular leader. The ancient lady of Sir +William Phips eyed them from the wall, in ruff and farthingale, an +imperious old dame, not unsuspected of witchcraft. John Winslow, then +a very young man, wore the expression of warlike enterprise which long +afterward made him a distinguished general. Their personal friends +were recognized at a glance. In most of the pictures, the whole mind +and character were brought out on the countenance, and concentrated +into a single look, so that, to speak paradoxically, the originals +hardly resembled themselves so strikingly as the portraits did. +</P> + +<P> +Among these modern worthies, there were two old bearded Saints, who had +almost vanished into the darkening canvas. There was also a pale but +unfaded Madonna, who had perhaps been worshiped in Rome, and now +regarded the lovers with such a mild and holy look that they longed to +worship too. +</P> + +<P> +"How singular a thought," observed Walter Ludlow, "that this beautiful +face has been beautiful for above two hundred years! Oh, if all beauty +would endure so well! Do you not envy her, Elinor?" +</P> + +<P> +"If earth were heaven, I might," she replied. "But where all things +fade, how miserable to be the one that could not fade!" +</P> + +<P> +"This dark old St. Peter has a fierce and ugly scowl, saint though he +be," continued Walter. "He troubles me. But the virgin looks kindly +at us." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes; but very sorrowfully, methinks," said Elinor. The easel stood +beneath these three old pictures, sustaining one that had been recently +commenced. After a little inspection, they began to recognize the +features of their own minister; the Rev. Dr. Colman, growing into shape +and life as it were, out of a cloud. +</P> + +<P> +"Kind old man!" exclaimed Elinor. "He gazes at me as if he were about +to utter a word of paternal advice." +</P> + +<P> +"And at me," said Walter, "as if he were about to shake his head and +rebuke me for some suspected iniquity. But so does the original. I +shall never feel quite comfortable under his eye, till we stand before +him to be married." +</P> + +<P> +They now heard a footstep on the floor, and turning, beheld the +painter, who had been some moments in the room, and had listened to a +few of their remarks. He was a middle-aged man, with a countenance +well worthy of his own pencil. Indeed, by the picturesque though +careless arrangement of his rich dress, and, perhaps, because his soul +dwelt always among painted shapes, he looked somewhat like a portrait +himself. His visitors were sensible of a kindred between the artist +and his works, and felt as if one of the pictures had stepped from the +canvas to salute them. +</P> + +<P> +Walter Ludlow, who was slightly known to the painter, explained the +object of their visit. While he spoke, a sun-beam was falling athwart +his figure and Elinor's, with so happy an effect that they also seemed +living pictures of youth and beauty, gladdened by bright fortune. The +artist was evidently struck. +</P> + +<P> +"My easel is occupied for several ensuing days, and my stay in Boston +must be brief," said he, thoughtfully; then, after an observant glance, +he added, "but your wishes shall be gratified, though I disappoint the +Chief-Justice and Madam Oliver. I must not lose this opportunity, for +the sake of painting a few ells of broadcloth and brocade." +</P> + +<P> +The painter expressed a desire to introduce both their portraits into +one picture, and represent them engaged in some appropriate action. +This plan would have delighted the lovers, but was necessarily +rejected, because so large a space of canvas would have been unfit for +the room which it was intended to decorate. Two half-length portraits +were therefore fixed upon. After they had taken leave, Walter Ludlow +asked Elinor, with a smile, whether she knew what an influence over +their fates the painter was about to acquire. +</P> + +<P> +"The old women of Boston affirm," continued he, "that after he has once +got possession of a person's face and figure, he may paint him in any +act or situation whatever—and the picture will be prophetic. Do you +believe it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not quite," said Elinor, smiling. "Yet if he has such magic, there is +something so gentle in his manner that I am sure he will use it well." +</P> + +<P> +It was the painter's choice to proceed with both the portraits at the +same time, assigning as a reason, in the mystical language which he +sometimes used, that the faces threw light upon each other. +Accordingly, he gave now a touch to Walter, and now to Elinor, and the +features of one and the other began to start forth so vividly that it +appeared as if his triumphant art would actually disengage them from +the canvas. Amid the rich light and deep shade they beheld their +phantom selves. But, though the likeness promised to be perfect, they +were not quite satisfied with the expression; it seemed more vague than +in most of the painter's works. He, however, was satisfied with the +prospect of success, and being much interested in the lovers, employed +his leisure moments, unknown to them, in making a crayon sketch of +their two figures. During their sittings, he engaged them in +conversation, and kindled up their faces with characteristic traits, +which, though continually varying, it was his purpose to combine and +fix. At length he announced that at their next visit both the +portraits would be ready for delivery. +</P> + +<P> +"If my pencil will but be true to my conception, in the few last +touches which I meditate," observed he, "these two pictures will be my +very best performances. Seldom, indeed, has an artist such subjects." +</P> + +<P> +While speaking, he still bent his penetrative eye upon them, nor +withdrew it till they had reached the bottom of the stairs. +</P> + +<P> +Nothing, in the whole circle of human vanities, takes stronger hold of +the imagination than this affair of having a portrait painted. Yet why +should it be so? The looking-glass, the polished globes of the +andirons, the mirror-like water, and all other reflecting surfaces, +continually present us with portraits, or rather ghosts, of ourselves, +which we glance at, and straightway forget them. But we forget them +only because they vanish. It is the idea of duration—of earthly +immortality—that gives such a mysterious interest to our own +portraits. Walter and Elinor were not insensible to this feeling, and +hastened to the painter's room, punctually at the appointed hour, to +meet those pictured shapes which were to be their representatives with +posterity. The sunshine flashed after them into the apartment, but +left it somewhat gloomy, as they closed the door. +</P> + +<P> +Their eyes were immediately attracted to their portraits, which rested +against the furthest wall of the room. At the first glance, through +the dim light and the distance, seeing themselves in precisely their +natural attitudes, and with all the air that they recognized so well, +they uttered a simultaneous exclamation of delight. +</P> + +<P> +"There we stand," cried Walter, enthusiastically, "fixed in sunshine +forever! No dark passions can gather on our faces!" +</P> + +<P> +"No," said Elinor, more calmly; "no dreary change can sadden us." +</P> + +<P> +This was said while they were approaching, and had yet gained only an +imperfect view of the pictures. The painter, after saluting them, +busied himself at a table in completing a crayon sketch, leaving his +visitors to form their own judgment as to his perfected labors. At +intervals, he sent a glance from beneath his deep eyebrows, watching +their countenances in profile, with his pencil suspended over the +sketch. They had now stood some moments, each in front of the other's +picture, contemplating it with entranced attention, but without +uttering a word. At length Walter stepped forward—then back—viewing +Elinor's portrait in various lights, and finally spoke. +</P> + +<P> +"Is there not a change?" said he, in a doubtful and meditative tone. +"Yes; the perception of it grows more vivid, the longer I look. It is +certainly the same picture that I saw yesterday; the dress—the +features—all are the same; and yet something is altered." +</P> + +<P> +"Is, then, the picture less like than it was yesterday?" inquired the +painter, now drawing near, with irrepressible interest. +</P> + +<P> +"The features are perfect, Elinor," answered Walter, "and, at the first +glance, the expression seemed also hers. But, I could fancy that the +portrait has changed countenance while I have been looking at it. The +eyes are fixed on mine with a strangely sad and anxious expression. +Nay, it is grief and terror! Is this like Elinor?" +</P> + +<P> +"Compare the living face with the pictured one," said the painter. +</P> + +<P> +Walter glanced sidelong at his mistress and started. Motionless and +absorbed—fascinated as it were—in contemplation of Walter's portrait, +Elinor's face had assumed precisely the expression of which he had just +been complaining. Had she practiced for whole hours before a mirror, +she could not have caught the look so successfully. Had the picture +itself been a mirror, it could not have thrown back her present aspect, +with stronger and more melancholy truth. She appeared quite +unconscious of the dialogue between the artist and her lover. +</P> + +<P> +"Elinor," exclaimed Walter, in amazement, "what change has come over +you?" +</P> + +<P> +She did not hear him, nor desist from her fixed gaze, till he seized +her hand, and thus attracted her notice; then, with a sudden tremor, +she looked from the picture to the face of the original. "Do you see +no change in your portrait?" asked she. +</P> + +<P> +"In mine?—None!" replied Walter, examining it. "But let me see! Yes; +there is a slight change—an improvement, I think, in the picture, +though none in the likeness. It has a livelier expression than +yesterday, as if some bright thought were flashing from the eyes, and +about to be uttered from the lips. Now that I have caught the look, it +becomes very decided." +</P> + +<P> +While he was intent on these observations, Elinor turned to the +painter. She regarded him with grief and awe, and felt that he repaid +her with sympathy and commiseration, though wherefore she could but +vaguely guess. +</P> + +<P> +"That look!" whispered she, and shuddered. "How came it there?" +</P> + +<P> +"Madam," said the painter, sadly, taking her hand, and leading her +apart, "in both these pictures I have painted what I saw. The +artist—the true artist—must look beneath the exterior. It is his +gift—his proudest but often a melancholy one—to see the inmost soul, +and by a power indefinable even to himself to make it glow or darken +upon the canvas, in glances that express the thought and sentiment of +years. Would that I might convince myself of error in the present +instance!" +</P> + +<P> +They had now approached the table, on which were heads in chalk, hands +almost as expressive as ordinary faces, ivied church towers, thatched +cottages, old thunder-stricken trees, Oriental and antique costume, and +all such picturesque vagaries of an artist's idle moments. Turning +them over, with seeming carelessness, a crayon sketch of two figures +was disclosed. +</P> + +<P> +"If I have failed," continued he, "if your heart does not see itself +reflected in your own portrait, if you have no secret cause to trust my +delineation of the other, it is not yet too late to alter them. I +might change the action of these figures too. But would it influence +the event?" +</P> + +<P> +He directed her notice to the sketch. A thrill ran through Elinor's +frame; a shriek was upon her lips; but she stifled it, with the +self-command that becomes habitual to all who hide thoughts of fear and +anguish within their bosoms. Turning from the table, she perceived +that Walter had advanced near enough to have seen the sketch, though +she could not determine whether it had caught his eye. +</P> + +<P> +"We will not have the pictures altered," said she hastily. "If mine is +sad, I shall but look the gayer for the contrast." +</P> + +<P> +"Be it so," answered the painter, bowing. "May your griefs be such +fanciful ones that only your picture may mourn for them! For your +joys—may they be true and deep, and paint themselves upon this lovely +face till it quite belie my art!" +</P> + +<P> +After the marriage of Walter and Elinor, the pictures formed the two +most splendid ornaments of their abode. They hung side by side, +separated by a narrow panel, appearing to eye each other constantly, +yet always returning the gaze of the spectator. Travelled gentlemen, +who professed a knowledge of such subjects, reckoned these among the +most admirable specimens of modern portraiture; while common observers +compared them with the originals, feature by feature, and were +rapturous in praise of the likeness. But it was on a third +class—neither travelled connoisseurs nor common observers, but people +of natural sensibility—that the pictures wrought their strongest +effect. Such persons might gaze carelessly at first, but, becoming +interested, would return day after day, and study these painted faces +like the pages of a mystic volume. Walter Ludlow's portrait attracted +their earliest notice. In the absence of himself and his bride, they +sometimes disputed as to the expression which the painter had intended +to throw upon the features; all agreeing that there was a look of +earnest import, though no two explained it alike. There was less +diversity of opinion in regard to Elinor's picture. They differed, +indeed, in their attempts to estimate the nature and depth of the gloom +that dwelt upon her face, but agreed that it was gloom, and alien from +the natural temperament of their youthful friend. A certain fanciful +person announced, as the result of much scrutiny, that both these +pictures were parts of one design, and that the melancholy strength of +feeling, in Elinor's countenance, bore reference to the more vivid +emotion, or, as he termed it, the wild passion, in that of Walter. +Though unskilled in the art, he even began a sketch, in which the +action of the two figures was to correspond with their mutual +expression. +</P> + +<P> +It was whispered among friends, that, day by day, Elinor's face was +assuming a deeper shade of pensiveness, which threatened soon to render +her too true a counterpart of her melancholy picture. Walter, on the +other hand, instead of acquiring the vivid look which the painter had +given him on the canvas, became reserved and downcast, with no outward +flashes of emotion, however it might be smouldering within. In course +of time, Elinor hung a gorgeous curtain of purple silk, wrought with +flowers, and fringed with heavy golden tassels, before the pictures, +under pretence that the dust would tarnish their hues, or the light dim +them. It was enough. Her visitors felt that the massive folds of the +silk must never be withdrawn, nor the portraits mentioned in her +presence. +</P> + +<P> +Time wore on; and the painter came again. He had been far enough to +the north to see the silver cascade of the Crystal Hills, and to look +over the vast round of cloud and forest, from the summit of New +England's loftiest mountain. But he did not profane that scene by the +mockery of his art. He had also lain in a canoe on the bosom of Lake +George, making his soul the mirror of its loveliness and grandeur, till +not a picture in the Vatican was more vivid than his recollection. He +had gone with the Indian hunters to Niagara, and there, again, had +flung his hopeless pencil down the precipice, feeling that he could as +soon paint the roar as aught else that goes to make up the wondrous +cataract. In truth, it was seldom his impulse to copy natural scenery, +except as a framework for the delineations of the human form and face, +instinct with thought, passion, or suffering. With store of such, his +adventurous ramble had enriched him; the stern dignity of Indian +chiefs; the dusky loveliness of Indian girls; the domestic life of +wigwams; the stealthy march; the battle beneath gloomy pine trees; the +frontier fortress with its garrison; the anomaly of the old French +partisan, bred in courts, but grown gray in shaggy deserts; such were +the scenes and portraits that he had sketched. The glow of perilous +moments; flashes of wild feeling; struggles of fierce power—love, +hate, grief, frenzy—in a word, all the worn-out heart of the old earth +had been revealed to him under a new form. His portfolio was filled +with graphic illustrations of the volume of his memory, which genius +would transmute into its own substance, and imbue with immortality. He +felt that the deep wisdom in his art, which he had sought so far, was +found. +</P> + +<P> +But, amid stern or lovely nature, in the perils of the forest, or its +overwhelming peacefulness, still there had been two phantoms, the +companions of his way. Like all other men around whom an engrossing +purpose wreathes itself, he was insulated from the mass of human kind. +He had no aim—no pleasure—no sympathies—but what were ultimately +connected with his art. Though gentle in manner, and upright in intent +and action, he did not possess kindly feelings; his heart was cold; no +living creature could be brought near enough to keep him warm. For +these two beings, however, he had felt, in its greatest intensity, the +sort of interest which always allied him to the subjects of his pencil. +He had pried into their souls with his keenest insight, and pictured +the result upon their features with his utmost skill, so as barely to +fall short of that standard which no genius ever reached, his own +severe conception. He had caught from the duskiness of the future—at +least, so he fancied—a fearful secret, and had obscurely revealed it +on the portraits. So much of himself—of his imagination and all other +powers—had been lavished on the study of Walter and Elinor, that he +almost regarded them as creations of his own, like the thousands with +which he had peopled the realms of Picture. Therefore did they flit +through the twilight of the woods, hover on the mist of waterfalls, +look forth from the mirror of the lake, nor melt away in the noontide +sun. They haunted his pictorial fancy, not as mockeries of life, nor +pale goblins of the dead, but in the guise of portraits, each with the +unalterable expression which his magic had evoked from the caverns of +the soul. He could not recross the Atlantic, till he had again beheld +the originals of those airy pictures. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, glorious Art!" thus mused the enthusiastic painter, as he trod the +street. "Thou art the image of the Creator's own. The innumerable +forms that wander in nothingness start into being at thy beck. The +dead live again. Thou recallest them to their old scenes, and givest +their gray shadows the lustre of a better life, at once earthly and +immortal. Thou snatchest back the fleeting moments of History. With +thee, there is no Past; for, at thy touch, all that is great becomes +forever present; and illustrious men live through long ages, in the +visible performance of the very deeds which made them what they are. +Oh, potent Art! as thou bringest the faintly revealed Past to stand in +that narrow strip of sunlight which we call Now, canst thou summon the +shrouded Future to meet her there? Have I not achieved it! Am I not +thy Prophet?" +</P> + +<P> +Thus with a proud yet melancholy fervor did he almost cry aloud, as he +passed through the toilsome street, among people that knew not of his +reveries, nor could understand nor care for them. It is not good for +man to cherish a solitary ambition. Unless there be those around him +by whose example he may regulate himself, his thoughts, desires, and +hopes will become extravagant, and he the semblance, perhaps the +reality, of a madman. Reading other bosoms, with an acuteness almost +preternatural, the painter failed to see the disorder of his own. +</P> + +<P> +"And this should be the house," said he, looking up and down the front, +before he knocked. "Heaven help my brains! That picture! Methinks it +will never vanish. Whether I look at the windows or the door, there it +is framed within them, painted strongly, and glowing in the richest +tints—the faces of the portraits—the figures and action of the +sketch!" +</P> + +<P> +He knocked. +</P> + +<P> +"The portraits! Are they within?" inquired he, of the domestic; then +recollecting himself—"your master and mistress! Are they at home?" +</P> + +<P> +"They are, sir," said the servant, adding, as he noticed that +picturesque aspect of which the painter could never divest himself, +"and the Portraits too!" +</P> + +<P> +The guest was admitted into a parlor, communicating by a central door +with an interior room of the same size. As the first apartment was +empty, he passed to the entrance of the second, within which his eyes +were greeted by those living personages, as well as their pictured +representatives, who had long been the object of so singular an +interest. He involuntarily paused on the threshold. +</P> + +<P> +They had not perceived his approach. Walter and Elinor were standing +before the portraits, whence the former had just flung back the rich +and voluminous folds of the silken curtain, holding its golden tassel +with one hand, while the other grasped that of his bride. The +pictures, concealed for months, gleamed forth again in undiminished +splendor, appearing to throw a sombre light across the room rather than +to be disclosed by a borrowed radiance. That of Elinor had been almost +prophetic. A pensiveness, and next a gentle sorrow, had successively +dwelt upon her countenance, deepening, with the lapse of time, into a +quiet anguish. A mixture of affright would now have made it the very +expression of the portrait. Walter's face was moody and dull, or +animated only by fitful flashes, which left a heavier darkness for +their momentary illumination. He looked from Elinor to her portrait, +and thence to his own, in the contemplation of which he finally stood +absorbed. +</P> + +<P> +The painter seemed to hear the step of Destiny approaching behind him, +on its progress toward its victims. A strange thought darted into his +mind. Was not his own the form in which that Destiny had embodied +itself, and he a chief agent of the coming evil which he had +foreshadowed? +</P> + +<P> +Still, Walter remained silent before the picture, communing with it, as +with his own heart, and abandoning himself to the spell of evil +influence that the painter had cast upon the features. Gradually his +eyes kindled; while, as Elinor watched the increasing wildness of his +face, her own assumed a look of terror; and when at last he turned upon +her, the resemblance of both to their portraits was complete. +</P> + +<P> +"Our fate is upon us!" howled Walter. "Die!" +</P> + +<P> +Drawing a knife, he sustained her, as she was sinking to the ground, +and aimed it at her bosom. In the action and in the look and attitude +of each, the painter beheld the figures of his sketch. The picture, +with all its tremendous coloring was finished. +</P> + +<P> +"Hold, madman!" cried he, sternly. +</P> + +<P> +He had advanced from the door, and interposed himself between the +wretched beings, with the same sense of power to regulate their destiny +as to alter a scene upon the canvas. He stood like a magician, +controlling the phantoms which he had evoked. +</P> + +<P> +"What!" muttered Walter Ludlow, as he relapsed from fierce excitement +into silent gloom. "Does Fate impede its own decree?" +</P> + +<P> +"Wretched lady!" said the painter. "Did I not warn you?" +</P> + +<P> +"You did," replied Elinor, calmly, as her terror gave place to the +quiet grief which it had disturbed. "But—I loved him!" +</P> + +<P> +Is there not a deep moral in the tale? Could the result of one, or all +our deeds, be shadowed forth and set before us—some would call it Fate +and hurry onward, others be swept along by their passionate +desires—and none be turned aside by the PROPHETIC PICTURES. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap02"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +By WASHINGTON IRVING +</H4> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +(FOUND AMONG THE PAPERS OF THE LATE DIEDRICH KNICKERBOCKER) +</H4> + +<P CLASS="intro"> +"A pleasing land of drowsy head it was,<BR> +Of dreams that wave before the half-shut eye;<BR> +And of gay castles in the clouds that pass,<BR> +Forever flushing round a summer sky."<BR> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 6.5em">—<I>Castle of Indolence</I></SPAN><BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +In the bosom of one of those spacious coves which indent the eastern +shore of the Hudson, at that broad expansion of the river denominated +by the ancient Dutch navigators the Tappaan Zee, and where they always +prudently shortened sail and implored the protection of St. Nicholas +when they crossed, there lies a small market town or rural port, which +by some is called Greensburgh, but which is more generally and properly +known by the name of Tarry Town. This name was given it, we are told, +in former days, by the good housewives of the adjacent country, from +the inveterate propensity of their husbands to linger about the village +tavern on market days. Be that as it may, I do not vouch for the fact, +but merely advert to it, for the sake of being precise and authentic. +Not far from this village, perhaps about three miles, there is a little +valley or rather lap of land among high hills, which is one of the +quietest places in the whole world. A small brook glides through it, +with just murmur enough to lull one to repose, and the occasional +whistle of a quail, or tapping of a woodpecker, is almost the only +sound that ever breaks in upon the uniform tranquillity. +</P> + +<P> +I recollect that, when a stripling, my first exploit in +squirrel-shooting was in a grove of tall walnut-trees that shades one +side of the valley. I had wandered into it at noon-time, when all +nature is peculiarly quiet, and was startled by roar of my own gun, as +it broke the sabbath stillness around and was prolonged and +reverberated by the angry echoes. If ever I should wish for a retreat +whither I might steal from the world and its distractions, and dream +quietly away the remnant of a troubled life, I know of none more +promising than this little valley. +</P> + +<P> +From the listless repose of the place and the peculiar character of its +inhabitants, who are descendants from the original Dutch settlers, this +sequestered glen has long been known by the name of Sleepy Hollow, and +its rustic lads are called the Sleepy Hollow Boys throughout all the +neighboring country. A drowsy, dreamy influence seems to hang over the +land and to pervade the very atmosphere. Some say that the place was +bewitched by a high German doctor, during the early days of the +settlement; others, that an old Indian chief, the prophet or wizard of +his tribe, held his powwows there before the country was discovered by +Master Hendrick Hudson. Certain it is, the place still continues under +the sway of some witching power that holds a spell over the minds of +the good people, causing them to walk in a continual reverie. They are +given to all kinds of marvelous beliefs; are subject to trances and +visions, and frequently see strange sights, and hear music and voices +in the air. The whole neighborhood abounds with local tales, haunted +spots, and twilight superstitions; stars shoot and meteors glare +oftener across the valley than in any other part of the country, and +the nightmare, with her whole nine fold, seems to make it the favorite +scene of her gambols. +</P> + +<P> +The dominant spirit, however, that haunts this enchanted region and +seems to be commander-in-chief of all the powers of the air, is the +apparition of a figure on horseback without a head. It is said by some +to be the ghost of a Hessian trooper, whose head had been carried away +by a cannon-ball in some nameless battle during the revolutionary war, +and who is ever and anon seen by the country folk, hurrying along in +the gloom of night, as if on the wings of the wind. His haunts are not +confined to the valley, but extend at times to the adjacent roads, and +especially to the vicinity of a church that is at no great distance. +Indeed, certain of the most authentic historians of those parts, who +have been careful in collecting and collating the floating facts +concerning this specter, allege that, the body of the trooper having +been buried in the churchyard, the ghost rides forth to the scene of +battle in nightly quest of his head, and that the rushing speed with +which he sometimes passes along the hollow like a midnight blast, is +owing to his being belated, and in a hurry to get back to the +churchyard before daybreak. +</P> + +<P> +Such is the general purport of this legendary superstition, which has +furnished materials for many a wild story in that region of shadows, +and the specter is known at all the country firesides by the name of +The Headless Horseman of Sleepy Hollow. +</P> + +<P> +It is remarkable that the visionary propensity I have mentioned is not +confined to the native inhabitants of the valley, but is unconsciously +imbibed by every one who resides there for a time. However wide awake +they may have been before they entered that sleepy region, they are +sure, in a little time, to inhale the witching influence of the air, +and begin to grow imaginative—to dream dreams and see apparitions. +</P> + +<P> +I mention this peaceful spot with all possible laud; for it is in such +little retired Dutch valleys, found here and there embosomed in the +great State of New York, that population, manners and customs remain +fixed, while the great torrent of migration and improvement, which is +making such incessant changes in other parts of this restless country, +sweeps by them unobserved. They are like those little nooks of still +water which border a rapid stream, where we may see the straw and +bubble riding quietly at anchor, or slowly revolving in their mimic +harbor, undisturbed by the rush of the passing current. Though many +years have elapsed since I trod the drowsy shades of Sleepy Hollow, yet +I question whether I should not still find the same trees and the same +families vegetating in its sheltered bosom. +</P> + +<P> +In this by-place of nature there abode, in a remote period of American +history, that is to say, some thirty years since, a worthy wight of the +name of Ichabod Crane, who sojourned, or, as he expressed it, +"tarried," in Sleepy Hollow, for the purpose of instructing the +children of the vicinity. He was a native of Connecticut, a State +which supplies the Union with pioneers for the mind as well as for the +forest, and sends forth yearly its legions of frontier woodmen and +country schoolmasters. +</P> + +<P> +The cognomen of Crane was not inapplicable to his person. He was tall, +but exceedingly lank, with narrow shoulders, long arms and legs, hands +that dangled a mile out of his sleeves, feet that might have served for +shovels, and his whole frame most loosely hung together. His head was +small and flat at top, with huge ears, large green glassy eyes, and a +long snipe nose, so that it looked like a weathercock perched upon his +spindle neck to tell which way the wind blew. To see him striding +along the profile of a hill on a windy day, with his clothes bagging +and fluttering about him, one might have mistaken him for the genius of +famine descending upon the earth, or some scarecrow eloped from a +cornfield. +</P> + +<P> +His schoolhouse was a low building of one large room, rudely +constructed of logs, the windows partly glazed and partly patched with +leaves of copy-books. It was most ingeniously secured at vacant hours +by a withe twisted in the handle of the door, and stakes set against +the window-shutters; so that, though a thief might get in with perfect +case, he would find some embarrassment in getting out—an idea most +probably borrowed by the architect, Yost Van Houten, from the mystery +of an ellpot. The schoolhouse stood in a rather lonely but pleasant +situation, just at the foot of a woody hill, with a brook running close +by and a formidable birch-tree growing at one end of it. From hence +the low murmur of his pupils' voices, conning over their lessons, might +be heard of a drowsy summer's day, like the hum of a beehive; +interrupted now and then by the authoritative voice of the master in +the tone of menace or command; or, peradventure, by the appalling sound +of the birch, as he urged some tardy loiterer along the flowery path of +knowledge. Truth to say, he was a conscientious man, that ever bore in +mind the golden maxim, "spare the rod and spoil the child."—Ichabod +Crane's scholars certainly were not spoiled. +</P> + +<P> +I would not have it imagined, however, that he was one of those cruel +potentates of the school who joy in the smart of their subjects; on the +contrary, he administered justice with discrimination rather than +severity, taking the burden off the backs of the weak and laying it on +those of the strong. Your mere puny stripling, that winced at the +least flourish of the rod, was passed by with indulgence; but the +claims of justice were satisfied by inflicting a double portion on some +little, tough, wrong headed, broad-skirted Dutch urchin, who sulked and +swelled and grew dogged and sullen beneath the birch. All this he +called "doing his duty by their parents"; and he never inflicted a +chastisement without following it by the assurance, so consolatory to +the smarting urchin, that "he would remember it and thank him for it +the longest day he had to live." +</P> + +<P> +When school hours were over, he was even the companion and playmate of +the larger boys; and on holyday afternoons would convoy some of the +smaller ones home, who happened to have pretty sisters, or good +housewives for mothers, noted for the comforts of the cupboard. +Indeed, it behooved him to keep on good terms with his pupils. The +revenue arising from his school was small, and would have been scarcely +sufficient to furnish him with daily bread, for he was a huge feeder, +and, though lank, had the dilating powers of an anaconda; but to help +out his maintenance, he was, according to country custom in those +parts, boarded and lodged at the houses of the farmers whose children +he instructed. With these he lived successively a week at a time, thus +going the rounds of the neighborhood with all his worldly effects tied +up in a cotton handkerchief. +</P> + +<P> +That all this might not be too onerous on the purses of his rustic +patrons, who are apt to consider the costs of schooling a grievous +burden and schoolmasters as mere drones, he had various ways of +rendering himself both useful and agreeable. He assisted the farmers +occasionally in the lighter labors of their farms; helped to make hay; +mended the fences; took the horses to water; drove the cows from +pasture, and cut wood for the winter fire. He laid aside, too, all the +dominant dignity and absolute sway with which he lorded it in his +little empire, the school, and became wonderfully gentle and +ingratiating. He found favor in the eyes of the mothers, by petting +the children, particularly the youngest; and like the lion bold, which +whilom so magnanimously the lamb did hold, he would sit with a child on +one knee and rock a cradle with his foot for whole hours together. +</P> + +<P> +In addition to his other vocations, he was the singing-master of the +neighborhood, and picked up many bright shillings by instructing the +young folks in psalmody. It was a matter of no little vanity to him on +Sundays to take his station in front of the church gallery, with a band +of chosen singers; where, in his own mind, he completely carried away +the palm from the parson. Certain it is, his voice resounded far above +all the rest of the congregation, and there are peculiar quavers still +to be heard in that church, and which may even be heard half a mile +off, quite to the opposite side of the mill-pond, on a still Sunday +morning, which are said to be legitimately descended from the nose of +Ichabod Crane. Thus by divers little makeshifts, in that ingenious way +which is commonly denominated "by hook and by crook," the worthy +pedagogue got on tolerably enough, and was thought, by all who +understood nothing of the labor of head-work, to have a wonderfully +easy life of it. +</P> + +<P> +The schoolmaster is generally a man of some importance in the female +circle of a rural neighborhood; being considered a kind of idle +gentleman-like personage, of vastly superior taste and accomplishments +to the rough country swains, and, indeed, inferior in learning only to +the parson. His appearance, therefore, is apt to occasion some little +stir at the tea-table of a farmhouse and the addition of a +supernumerary dish of cakes or sweetmeats, or, peradventure, the parade +of a silver teapot. Our man of letters, therefore, was peculiarly +happy in the smiles of all the country damsels. How he would figure +among them in the churchyard, between, services on Sundays! gathering +grapes for them from the wild vines that overrun the surrounding trees; +reciting for their amusement all the epitaphs on the tombstones, or +sauntering, with a whole bevy of them, along the banks of the adjacent +mill-pond; while the more bashful country bumpkins hung sheepishly +back, envying his superior elegance and address. +</P> + +<P> +From his half itinerant life, also, he was a kind of traveling gazette, +carrying the whole budget of local gossip from house to house, so that +his appearance was always greeted with satisfaction. He was, moreover, +esteemed by the women as a man of great erudition, for he had read +several books quite through, and was a perfect master of Cotton +Mather's "History of New England Witchcraft," in which, by the way, he +most firmly and potently believed. +</P> + +<P> +He was, in fact, an odd mixture of small shrewdness and simple +credulity. His appetite for the marvelous, and his powers of digesting +it, were equally extraordinary; and both had been increased by his +residence in this spell-bound region. No tale was too gross or +monstrous for his capacious swallow. It was often his delight, after +his school was dismissed in the afternoon, to stretch himself on the +rich bed of clover, bordering the little brook that whimpered by his +schoolhouse, and there con over old Mather's direful tales, until the +gathering dusk of evening made the printed page a mere mist before his +eyes. Then, as he wended his way, by swamp and stream and awful +woodland, to the farmhouse where he happened to be quartered, every +sound of nature, at that witching hour, fluttered his excited +imagination: the moan of the whip-poor-will[<A NAME="chap02fn1text"></A><A HREF="#chap02fn1">1</A>] from the hill-side; the +boding cry of the tree-toad, that harbinger of storm; the dreary +hooting of the screech-owl, or the sudden rustling in the thicket of +birds frightened from their roost. The fire-flies, too, which sparkled +most vividly in the darkest places, now and then startled him, as one +of uncommon brightness would stream across his path; and if, by chance, +a huge blockhead of a beetle came winging his blundering flight against +him, the poor varlet was ready to give up the ghost, with the idea that +he was struck with a witch's token. His only resource on such +occasions, either to drown thought or drive away evil spirits, was to +sing psalm tunes; and the good people of Sleepy Hollow, as they sat by +their doors of an evening, were often filled with awe at hearing his +nasal melody, "in linked sweetness long drawn out," floating from the +distant hill, or along the dusky road. +</P> + +<P> +Another of his sources of fearful pleasure was to pass long winter +evenings with the old Dutch wives, as they sat spinning by the fire, +with a row of apples roasting and sputtering along the hearth, and +listen to their marvelous tales of ghosts and goblins, and haunted +fields and haunted brooks, and haunted bridges and haunted houses, and +particularly of the headless horseman, or galloping Hessian of the +Hollow, as they sometimes called him. He would delight them equally by +his anecdotes of witchcraft, and of the direful omens and portentous +sights and sounds in the air, which prevailed in the earlier times of +Connecticut; and would frighten them wofully with speculations upon +comets and shooting stars, and with the alarming fact that the world +did absolutely turn round, and that they were half the time topsy-turvy! +</P> + +<P> +But if there was a pleasure in all this, while snugly cuddling in the +chimney corner of a chamber that was all of a ruddy glow from the +crackling wood fire, and where, of course, no specter dared to show its +face, it was dearly purchased by the terrors of his subsequent walk +homeward. What fearful shapes and shadows beset his path, amid the dim +and ghastly glare of a snowy night!—With what wistful look did he eye +every trembling ray of light streaming across the waste fields from +some distant window!—How often was he appalled by some shrub covered +with snow, which, like a sheeted specter, beset his very path!—How +often did he shrink with curdling awe at the sound of his own steps on +the frosty crust beneath his feet, and dread to look over his shoulder, +lest he should behold some uncouth being tramping close behind +him!—and how often was he thrown into complete dismay by some rushing +blast, howling among the trees, in the idea that it was the galloping +Hessian on one of his nightly scourings! +</P> + +<P> +All these, however, were mere terrors of the night, phantoms of the +mind, that walk in darkness: and though he had seen many specters in +his time, and had been more than once beset by Satan in divers shapes +in his lonely perambulations, yet daylight put an end to all these +evils; and he would have passed a pleasant life of it, in despite of +the Devil and all his works, if his path had not been crossed by a +being that causes more perplexity to mortal man than ghosts, goblins, +and the whole race of witches put together; and that was—a woman. +</P> + +<P> +Among the musical disciples who assembled, one evening in each week, to +receive his instructions in psalmody, was Katrina Van Tassel, the +daughter and only child of a substantial Dutch farmer. She was a +blooming lass of fresh eighteen; plump as a partridge, ripe and melting +and rosy-cheeked as one of her father's peaches, and universally famed, +not merely for her beauty, but her vast expectations. She was withal a +little of a coquette, as might be perceived even in her dress, which +was a mixture of ancient and modern fashions, as most suited to set off +her charms. She wore the ornaments of pure yellow gold which her +great-great-grandmother had brought over from Saardam; the tempting +stomacher of the olden time, and withal a provokingly short petticoat, +to display the prettiest foot and ankle in the country round. +</P> + +<P> +Ichabod Crane had a soft and foolish heart toward the sex; and it is +not to be wondered at that so tempting a morsel soon found favor in his +eyes, more especially after he had visited her in her paternal mansion. +Old Baltus Van Tassel was a perfect picture of a thriving, contented, +liberal-hearted farmer. He seldom, it is true, sent either his eyes or +his thoughts beyond the boundaries of his own farm; but within these, +everything was snug, happy, and well-conditioned. He was satisfied +with his wealth, but not proud of it; and piqued himself upon the +hearty abundance, rather than the style in which he lived. His +stronghold was situated on the banks of the Hudson, in one of those +green, sheltered, fertile nooks in which the Dutch farmers are so fond +of nestling. A great elm-tree spread its broad branches over it, at +the foot of which bubbled up a spring of the softest and sweetest +water, in a little well formed of a barrel, and then stole sparkling +away through the grass, to a neighboring brook that babbled along among +alders and dwarf willows. Hard by the farmhouse was a vast barn that +might have served for a church, every window and crevice of which +seemed bursting forth with the treasures of the farm; the flail was +busily resounding within it from morning to night; swallows and martins +skimmed twittering about the eaves; and rows of pigeons, some with one +eye turned up, as if watching the weather, some with their heads under +their wings, or buried in their bosoms, and others, swelling, and +cooing, and bowing about their dames, were enjoying the sunshine on the +roof. Sleek, unwieldy porkers were grunting in the repose and +abundance of their pens, from whence sallied forth, now and then, +troops of sucking pigs, as if to snuff the air. A stately squadron of +snowy geese were riding in an adjoining pond, convoying whole fleets of +ducks; regiments of turkeys were gobbling through the farmyard, and +guinea-fowls fretting about it like ill-tempered housewives, with their +peevish, discontented cry. Before the barn door strutted the gallant +cock, that pattern of a husband, a warrior and a fine gentleman, +clapping his burnished wings and crowing in the pride and gladness of +his heart—sometimes tearing up the earth with his feet, and then +generously calling his ever-hungry family of wives and children to +enjoy the rich morsel which he had discovered. +</P> + +<P> +The pedagogue's mouth watered as he looked upon this sumptuous promise +of luxurious winter fare. In his devouring mind's eye, he pictured to +himself every roasting pig running about, with a pudding in its belly +and an apple in its mouth; the pigeons were snugly put to bed in a +comfortable pie and tucked in with a coverlet of crust; the geese were +swimming in their own gravy, and the ducks pairing cosily in dishes, +like snug married couples, with a decent competency of onion sauce. In +the porkers he saw carved out the future sleek side of bacon and juicy +relishing ham; not a turkey, but he beheld daintily trussed up, with +its gizzard under its wing, and, peradventure, a necklace of savory +sausages; and even bright chanticleer himself lay sprawling on his +back, in a side dish, with uplifted claws, as if craving that quarter +which his chivalrous spirit disdained to ask while living. +</P> + +<P> +As the enraptured Ichabod fancied all this, and as he rolled his great +green eyes over the fat meadow lands, the rich fields of wheat, of rye, +of buckwheat and Indian corn, and the orchards burdened with ruddy +fruit, which surrounded the warm tenement of Van Tassel, his heart +yearned after the damsel who was to inherit these domains, and his +imagination expanded with the idea how they might be readily turned +into cash, and the money invested in immense tracts of wild land and +shingle palaces in the wilderness. Nay, his busy fancy already +realized his hopes, and presented to him the blooming Katrina, with a +whole family of children, mounted on the top of a wagon loaded with +household trumpery, with pots and kettles dangling beneath; and he +beheld himself bestriding a pacing mare, with a colt at her heels, +setting out for Kentucky, Tennessee—or the Lord knows where! +</P> + +<P> +When he entered the house, the conquest of his heart was complete. It +was one of those spacious farmhouses, with high-ridged, but +lowly-sloping roofs, built in the style handed down from the first +Dutch settlers. The low projecting eaves forming a piazza along the +front capable of being closed up in bad weather. Under this were hung +flails, harness, various utensils of husbandry, and nets for fishing in +the neighboring river. Benches were built along the sides for summer +use; and a great spinning-wheel at one end and a churn at the other +showed the various uses to which this important porch might be devoted. +From this piazza the wonderful Ichabod entered the hall, which formed +the center of the mansion, and the place of usual residence. Here, +rows of resplendent pewter, ranged on a long dresser, dazzled his eyes. +In one corner stood a huge bag of wool, ready to be spun; in another, a +quantity of linsey-woolsey just from the loom; ears of Indian corn and +strings of dried apples and peaches hung in gay festoons along the +walls, mingled with the gaud of red peppers; and a door left ajar gave +him a peep into the best parlor, where the claw-footed chairs, and dark +mahogany tables, shone like mirrors; andirons, with their accompanying +shovel and tongs, glistened from their covert of asparagus tops; +mock-oranges and conch shells decorated the mantel-piece; strings of +various colored birds' eggs were suspended above it; a great ostrich +egg was hung from the center of the room, and a corner cupboard, +knowingly left open, displayed immense treasures of old silver and +well-mended china. +</P> + +<P> +From the moment Ichabod laid his eyes upon these regions of delight, +the peace of his mind was at an end, and his only study was how to gain +the affections of the peerless daughter of Van Tassel. In this +enterprise, however, he had more real difficulties than generally fell +to the lot of a knight-errant of yore, who seldom had anything but +giants, enchanters, fiery dragons, and such like easily conquered +adversaries, to contend with; and had to make his way merely through +gates of iron and brass and walls of adamant to the castle-keep, where +the lady of his heart was confined; all which he achieved as easily as +a man would carve his way to the center of a Christmas pie, and then +the lady gave him her hand as a matter of course. Ichabod, on the +contrary, had to win his way to the heart of a country coquette, beset +with a labyrinth of whims and caprices, which were forever presenting +new difficulties and impediments, and he had to encounter a host of +fearful adversaries of real flesh and blood, the numerous rustic +admirers who beset every portal to her heart; keeping a watchful and +angry eye upon each other, but ready to fly out in the common cause +against any new competitor. +</P> + +<P> +Among these, the most formidable was a burly, roaring, roistering +blade, of the name of Abraham, or, according to the Dutch abbreviation, +Brom Van Brunt, the hero of the country round, which rung with his +feats of strength and hardihood. He was broad-shouldered and +double-jointed, with short curly black hair, and a bluff, but not +unpleasant countenance, having a mingled air of fun and arrogance. +From his Herculean frame and great powers of limb, he had received the +nickname of Brom Bones, by which he was universally known. He was +famed for great knowledge and skill in horsemanship, being as dexterous +on horseback as a Tartar. He was foremost at all races and +cock-fights, and with the ascendency which bodily strength always +acquires in rustic life, was the umpire in all disputes, setting his +hat on one side, and giving his decisions with an air and tone that +admitted of no gainsay or appeal. He was always ready for either a +fight or a frolic; had more mischief than ill-will in his composition; +and, with all his overbearing roughness, there was a strong dash of +waggish good-humor at bottom. He had three or four boon companions of +his own stamp, who regarded him as their model, and at the head of whom +he scoured the country, attending every scene of feud or merriment for +miles round. In cold weather, he was distinguished by a fur cap, +surmounted with a flaunting fox's tail; and when the folks at a country +gathering descried this well-known crest at a distance, whisking about +among a squad of hard riders, they always stood by for a squall. +Sometimes his crew would be heard dashing along past the farmhouses at +midnight, with whoop and halloo, like a troop of Don Cossacks, and the +old dames, startled out of their sleep, would listen for a moment till +the hurry-scurry had clattered by, and then exclaim, "Ay, there goes +Brom Bones and his gang!" The neighbors looked upon him with a mixture +of awe, admiration, and good-will; and when any madcap prank or rustic +brawl occurred in the vicinity, always shook their heads, and warranted +Brom Bones was at the bottom of it. +</P> + +<P> +This rantipole hero had for some time singled out the blooming Katrina +for the object of his uncouth gallantries, and though his amorous +toyings were something like the gentle caresses and endearments of a +bear, yet it was whispered that she did not altogether discourage his +hopes. Certain it is, his advances were signals for rival candidates +to retire, who felt no inclination to cross a lion in his amours; +insomuch, that when his horse was seen tied to Van Tassel's paling, on +a Sunday night, a sure sign that his master was courting, or, as it is +termed, "sparking," within, all other suitors passed by in despair and +carried the war into other quarters. +</P> + +<P> +Such was the formidable rival with whom Ichabod Crane had to contend, +and considering all things, a stouter man than he would have shrunk +from the competition, and a wiser man would have despaired. He had, +however, a happy mixture of pliability and perseverance in his nature; +he was in form and spirit like a supple-jack—yielding, but tough; +though he bent, he never broke; and though he bowed beneath the +slightest pressure, yet, the moment it was away—jerk!—he was as erect +and carried his head as high as ever. +</P> + +<P> +To have taken the field openly against his rival would have been +madness; for he was not a man to be thwarted in his amours, any more +than that stormy lover, Achilles. Ichabod, therefore, made his +advances in a quiet and gently-insinuating manner. Under cover of his +character of singing-master, he made frequent visits at the farmhouse; +not that he had anything to apprehend from the meddlesome interference +of parents, which is so often a stumbling-block in the path of lovers. +Balt Van Tassel was an easy indulgent soul; he loved his daughter +better even than his pipe, and like a reasonable man, and an excellent +father, let her have her way in everything. His notable little wife, +too, had enough to do to attend to her housekeeping and manage the +poultry; for, as she sagely observed, ducks and geese are foolish +things, and must be looked after, but girls can take care of +themselves. Thus, while the busy dame bustled about the house, or +plied her spinning-wheel at one end of the piazza, honest Balt would +sit smoking his evening pipe at the other, watching the achievements of +a little wooden warrior, who, armed with a sword in each hand, was most +valiantly fighting the wind on the pinnacle of the barn. In the +meantime, Ichabod would carry on his suit with the daughter by the side +of the spring under the great elm, or sauntering along in the twilight, +that hour so favorable to the lover's eloquence. +</P> + +<P> +I profess not to know how women's hearts are wooed and won. To me they +have always been matters of riddle and admiration. Some seem to have +but one vulnerable point, or door of access; while others have a +thousand avenues, and may be captured in a thousand different ways. It +is a great triumph of skill to gain the former, but a still greater +proof of generalship to maintain possession of the latter, for a man +must battle for his fortress at every door and window. He that wins a +thousand common hearts, is therefore entitled to some renown; but he +who keeps undisputed sway over the heart of a coquette, is indeed a +hero. Certain it is, this was not the case with the redoubtable Brom +Bones; and from the moment Ichabod Crane made his advances, the +interests of the former evidently declined: his horse was no longer +seen tied at the palings on Sunday nights, and a deadly feud gradually +arose between him and the preceptor of Sleepy Hollow. +</P> + +<P> +Brom, who had a degree of rough chivalry in his nature, would fain have +carried matters to open warfare, and settled their pretensions to the +lady according to the mode of those most concise and simple reasoners, +the knights-errant of yore—by single combat; but Ichabod was too +conscious of the superior might of his adversary to enter the lists +against him; he had overheard the boast of Bones, that he would "double +the schoolmaster up, and put him on a shelf"; and he was too wary to +give him an opportunity. There was something extremely provoking in +this obstinately pacific system; it left Brom no alternative but to +draw upon the funds of rustic waggery in his disposition, and to play +off boorish practical jokes upon his rival. Ichabod became the object +of whimsical persecution to Bones and his gang of rough riders. They +harried his hitherto peaceful domains; smoked out his singing-school, +by stopping up the chimney; broke into the schoolhouse at night, in +spite of its formidable fastenings of withe and window stakes, and +turned everything topsy-turvy; so that the poor schoolmaster began to +think all the witches in the country held their meetings there. But +what was still more annoying, Brom took all opportunities of turning +him into ridicule in presence of his mistress, and had a scoundrel dog +whom he taught to whine in the most ludicrous manner, and introduced as +a rival of Ichabod's, to instruct her in psalmody. +</P> + +<P> +In this way, matters went on for some time, without producing any +material effect on the relative situations of the contending powers. +On a fine autumnal afternoon, Ichabod, in pensive mood, sat enthroned +on the lofty stool from whence he usually watched all the concerns of +his little literary realm. In his hand he swayed a ferule, that +scepter of despotic power; the birch of justice reposed on three nails, +behind the throne, a constant terror to evil doers; while on the desk +before him might be seen sundry contraband articles and prohibited +weapons, detected upon the persons of idle urchins, such as +half-munched apples, popguns, whirligigs, fly-cages, and whole legions +of rampant little paper game-cocks. Apparently there had been some +appalling act of justice recently inflicted, for his scholars were all +busily intent upon their books, or slyly whispering behind them with +one eye kept upon the master; and a kind of buzzing stillness reigned +throughout the schoolroom. It was suddenly interrupted by the +appearance of a negro in tow-cloth jacket and trousers, a round crowned +fragment of a hat, like the cap of Mercury, and mounted on the back of +a ragged, wild, half-broken colt, which he managed with a rope by way +of halter. He came clattering up to the school door with an invitation +to Ichabod to attend a merry-making, or "quilting frolic," to be held +that evening at Mynheer Van Tassel's; and having delivered his message +with that air of importance, and effort at fine language, which a negro +is apt to display on petty embassies of the kind, he dashed over the +brook, and was seen scampering away up the hollow, full of the +importance and hurry of his mission. +</P> + +<P> +All was now bustle and hubbub in the late quiet schoolroom. The +scholars were hurried through their lessons, without stopping at +trifles; those who were nimble skipped over half with impunity, and +those who were tardy had a smart application now and then in the rear, +to quicken their speed, or help them over a tall word. Books were +flung aside, without being put away on the shelves; inkstands were +overturned, benches thrown down, and the whole school was turned loose +an hour before the usual time; bursting forth like a legion of young +imps, yelping and racketing about the green, in joy at their early +emancipation. +</P> + +<P> +The gallant Ichabod now spent at least an extra half-hour at his +toilet, brushing and furbishing up his best, and indeed only suit of +rusty black, and arranging his looks by a bit of broken looking-glass +that hung up in the schoolhouse. That he might make his appearance +before his mistress in the true style of a cavalier, he borrowed a +horse from the farmer with whom he was domiciliated, a choleric old +Dutchman, of the name of Hans Van Ripper, and thus gallantly mounted, +issued forth like a knight-errant in quest of adventures. But it is +meet I should, in the true spirit of romantic story, give some account +of the looks and equipments of my hero and his steed. The animal he +bestrode was a broken-down plow-horse that had outlived almost +everything but his viciousness. He was gaunt and shagged, with a ewe +neck and a head like a hammer; his rusty mane and tail were tangled and +knotted with burrs; one eye had lost its pupil, and was glaring and +spectral, but the other had the gleam of a genuine devil in it. Still +he must have had fire and mettle in his day, if we may judge from his +name, which was Gunpowder. He had, in fact, been a favorite steed of +his master's, the choleric Van Ripper, who was a furious rider, and had +infused, very probably, some of his own spirit into the animal; for, +old and broken-down as he looked, there was more of the lurking devil +in him than in any young filly in the country. +</P> + +<P> +Ichabod was a suitable figure for such a steed. He rode with short +stirrups, which brought his knees nearly up to the pommel of the +saddle; his sharp elbows stuck out like grasshoppers'; he carried his +whip perpendicularly in his hand, like a scepter, and as the horse +jogged on, the motion of his arms was not unlike the flapping of a pair +of wings. A small wool hat rested on the top of his nose, for so his +scanty strip of forehead might be called, and the skirts of his black +coat fluttered out almost to the horse's tail. Such was the appearance +of Ichabod and his steed as they shambled out of the gate of Hans Van +Ripper, and it was altogether such an apparition as is seldom to be met +with in broad daylight. +</P> + +<P> +It was, as I have said, a fine autumnal day; the sky was clear and +serene, and nature wore that rich and golden livery which we always +associate with the idea of abundance. The forests had put on their +sober brown and yellow, while some trees of the tenderer kind had been +nipped by the frosts into brilliant dyes of orange, purple, and +scarlet. Streaming files of wild ducks began to make their appearance +high in the air; the bark of the squirrel might be heard from the +groves of beech and hickory-nuts, and the pensive whistle of the quail +at intervals from the neighboring stubble-field. +</P> + +<P> +The small birds were taking their farewell banquets. In the fullness +of their revelry, they fluttered, chirping and frolicking, from bush to +bush and tree to tree, capricious from the very profusion and variety +around them. There was the honest cock-robin, the favorite game of +stripling sportsmen, with its loud querulous note, and the twittering +blackbirds flying in sable clouds; and the golden-winged woodpecker, +with his crimson crest, his broad black gorget and splendid plumage; +and the cedar-bird, with its red-tipped wings and yellow-tipped tail, +and its little monteiro cap of feathers; and the blue jay, that noisy +coxcomb, in his gay light blue coat and white underclothes, screaming +and chattering, nodding, and bobbing, and bowing, and pretending to be +on good terms with every songster of the grove. +</P> + +<P> +As Ichabod jogged slowly on his way, his eye, ever open to every +symptom of culinary abundance, ranged with delight over the treasures +of jolly autumn. On all sides he beheld vast store of apples, some +hanging in oppressive opulence on the trees, some gathered into baskets +and barrels for the market, others heaped up in rich piles for the +cider-press. Further on he beheld great fields of Indian corn, with +its golden ears peeping from their leafy coverts and holding out the +promise of cakes and hasty-pudding; and the yellow pumpkins lying +beneath them, turning up their fair round bellies to the sun, and +giving ample prospects of the most luxurious of pies; and anon he +passed the fragrant buckwheat fields, breathing the odor of the +beehive, and as he beheld them, soft anticipations stole over his mind +of dainty slap-jacks, well-buttered, and garnished with honey or +treacle, by the delicate little dimpled hand of Katrina Van Tassel. +</P> + +<P> +Thus feeding his mind with many sweet thoughts and "sugared +suppositions," he journeyed along the sides of a range of hills which +look out upon some of the goodliest scenes of the mighty Hudson. The +sun gradually wheeled his broad disk down into the west. The wide +bosom of the Tappaan Zee lay motionless and glassy, excepting that here +and there a gentle undulation waved and prolonged the blue shadow of +the distant mountain. A few amber clouds floated in the sky, without a +breath of air to move them. The horizon was of a fine golden tint, +changing gradually into a pure apple green, and from that into the deep +blue of the mid-heaven. A slanting ray lingered on the woody crests of +the precipices that overhung some parts of the river, giving greater +depth to the dark gray and purple of their rocky sides. A sloop was +loitering in the distance, dropping slowly down with the tide, her sail +hanging uselessly against the mast; and as the reflection of the sky +gleamed along the still water, it seemed as if the vessel was suspended +in the air. +</P> + +<P> +It was toward evening that Ichabod arrived at the castle of the Heer +Van Tassel, which he found thronged with the pride and flower of the +adjacent country. Old farmers, a spare leathern-faced race, in +homespun coats and breeches, blue stockings, huge shoes, and +magnificent pewter buckles. Their brisk, withered little dames, in +close crimped caps, long-waisted gowns, homespun petticoats, with +scissors and pin-cushions, and gay calico pockets hanging on the +outside. Buxom lasses, almost as antiquated as their mothers, +excepting where a straw hat, a fine ribbon, or perhaps a white frock, +gave symptoms of city innovations. The sons, in short square-skirted +coats, with rows of stupendous brass buttons, and their hair generally +queued in the fashion of the times, especially if they could procure an +eelskin for the purpose, it being esteemed throughout the country as a +potent nourisher and strengthener of the hair. +</P> + +<P> +Brom Bones, however, was the hero of the scene, having come to the +gathering on his favorite steed Daredevil, a creature, like himself, +full of mettle and mischief, and which no one but himself could manage. +He was, in fact, noted for preferring vicious animals, given to all +kinds of tricks which kept the rider in constant risk of his neck, for +he held a tractable well-broken horse as unworthy of a lad of spirit. +</P> + +<P> +Fain would I pause to dwell upon the world of charms that burst upon +the enraptured gaze of my hero, as he entered the state parlor of Van +Tassel's mansion. Not those of the bevy of buxom lasses, with their +luxurious display of red and white, but the ample charms of a genuine +Dutch country tea-table, in the sumptuous time of autumn. Such +heaped-up platters of cakes of various and almost indescribable kinds, +known only to experienced Dutch housewives! There was the doughty +doughnut, the tender oly-koek, and the crisp and crumbling cruller; +sweet cakes and short cakes, ginger cakes and honey cakes, and the +whole family of cakes. And then there were apple pies, and peach pies, +and pumpkin pies; besides slices of ham and smoked beef; and moreover +delectable dishes of preserved plums, and peaches, and pears, and +quinces; not to mention broiled shad and roasted chickens; together +with bowls of milk and cream, all mingled higgledy-piggledy, pretty +much as I have enumerated them, with the motherly teapot sending up its +clouds of vapor from the midst—Heaven bless the mark! I want breath +and time to discuss this banquet as it deserves, and am too eager to +get on with my story. Happily, Ichabod Crane was not in so great a +hurry as his historian, but did ample justice to every dainty. +</P> + +<P> +He was a kind and thankful creature, whose heart dilated in proportion +as his skin was filled with good cheer, and whose spirits rose with +eating, as some men's do with drink. He could not help, too, rolling +his large eyes round him as he ate, and chuckling with the possibility +that he might one day be lord of all this scene of almost unimaginable +luxury and splendor. Then, he thought, how soon he'd turn his back +upon the old schoolhouse; snap his fingers in the face of Hans Van +Ripper, and every other niggardly patron, and kick any itinerant +pedagogue out of doors that should dare to call him comrade! +</P> + +<P> +Old Baltus Van Tassel moved about among his guests with a face dilated +with content and good-humor, round and jolly as the harvest moon. His +hospitable attentions were brief, but expressive, being confined to a +shake of the hand, a slap on the shoulder, a loud laugh, and a pressing +invitation to "fall to and help themselves." +</P> + +<P> +And now the sound of the music from the common room, or hall, summoned +to the dance. The musician was an old gray-headed negro, who had been +the itinerant orchestra of the neighborhood for more than half a +century. His instrument was as old and battered as himself. The +greater part of the time he scraped away on two or three strings, +accompanying every movement of the bow with a motion of the head; +bowing almost to the ground, and stamping with his foot whenever a +fresh couple were to start. +</P> + +<P> +Ichabod prided himself upon his dancing as much as upon his vocal +powers. Not a limb, not a fiber about him was idle; and to have seen +his loosely hung frame in full motion, and clattering about the room, +you would have thought St. Vitus himself, that blessed patron of the +dance, was figuring before you in person. He was the admiration of all +the negroes; who, having gathered, of all ages and sizes, from the farm +and the neighborhood, stood forming a pyramid of shining black faces at +every door and window, gazing with delight at the scene, rolling their +white eyeballs, and showing grinning rows of ivory from ear to ear. +How could the flogger of urchins be otherwise than animated and +joyous?—the lady of his heart was his partner in the dance, and +smiling graciously in reply to all his amorous oglings; while Brom +Bones, sorely smitten with love and jealousy, sat brooding by himself +in one corner. +</P> + +<P> +When the dance was at an end, Ichabod was attracted to a knot of the +sager folks, who, with Old Van Tassel, sat smoking at one end of the +piazza, gossiping over former times, and drawling out long stories +about the war. +</P> + +<P> +This neighborhood, at the time of which I am speaking, was one of those +highly favored places which abound with chronicle and great men. The +British and American line had run near it during the war; it had, +therefore, been the scene of marauding, and infested with refugees, +cowboys, and all kind of border chivalry. Just sufficient time had +elapsed to enable each story-teller to dress up his tale with a little +becoming fiction, and, in the indistinctness of his recollection, to +make himself the hero of every exploit. +</P> + +<P> +There was the story of Doffue Martling, a large blue-bearded Dutchman, +who had nearly taken a British frigate with an old iron nine-pounder +from a mud breastwork, only that his gun burst at the sixth discharge. +And there was an old gentleman who shall be nameless, being too rich a +mynheer to be lightly mentioned, who, in the battle of White Plains, +being an excellent master of defense, parried a musket-ball with a +small-sword, insomuch that he absolutely felt it whiz round the blade +and glance off at the hilt; in proof of which he was ready at any time +to show the sword, with the hilt a little bent. There were several +more that had been equally great in the field, not one of whom but was +persuaded that he had a considerable hand in bringing the war to a +happy termination. +</P> + +<P> +But all these were nothing to the tales of ghosts and apparitions that +succeeded. The neighborhood is rich in legendary treasures of the +kind. Local tales and superstitions thrive best in these sheltered +long-settled retreats; but are trampled under foot by the shifting +throng that forms the population of most of our country places. +Besides, there is no encouragement for ghosts in most of our villages, +for they have scarcely had time to finish their first nap, and turn +themselves in their graves, before their surviving friends have +traveled away from the neighborhood: so that when they turn out at +night to walk their rounds, they have no acquaintance left to call +upon. This is perhaps the reason why we so seldom hear of ghosts +except in our long-established Dutch communities. +</P> + +<P> +The immediate cause, however, of the prevalence of supernatural stories +in these parts was doubtless owing to the vicinity of Sleepy Hollow. +There was a contagion in the very air that blew from that haunted +region; it breathed forth an atmosphere of dreams and fancies infecting +all the land. Several of the Sleepy Hollow people were present at Van +Tassel's, and, as usual, were doling out their wild and wonderful +legends. Many dismal tales were told about funeral trains, and +mourning cries and wailings heard and seen about the great tree where +the unfortunate Major André was taken, and which stood in the +neighborhood. Some mention was made also of the woman in white, that +haunted the dark glen at Raven Rock, and was often heard to shriek on +winter nights before a storm, having perished there in the snow. The +chief part of the stories, however, turned upon the favorite specter of +Sleepy Hollow, the headless horseman, who had been heard several times +of late, patrolling the country, and, it is said, tethered his horse +nightly among the graves in the churchyard. +</P> + +<P> +The sequestered situation of this church seems always to have made it a +favorite haunt of troubled spirits. It stands on a knoll, surrounded +by locust trees and lofty elms, from among which its decent, +whitewashed walls shine modestly forth, like Christian purity, beaming +through the shades of retirement. A gentle slope descends from it to a +silver sheet of water, bordered by high trees, between which peeps may +be caught at the blue hills of the Hudson. To look upon its +grass-grown yard, where the sunbeams seem to sleep so quietly, one +would think that there at least the dead might rest in peace. On one +side of the church extends a wide woody dell, along which raves a large +brook among broken rocks and trunks of fallen trees. Over a deep black +part of the stream, not far from the church, was formerly thrown a +wooden bridge; the road that led to it, and the bridge itself, were +thickly shaded by overhanging trees, which cast a gloom about it, even +in the daytime; but occasioned a fearful darkness at night. Such was +one of the favorite haunts of the headless horseman, and the place +where he was most frequently encountered. The tale was told of old +Brouwer, a most heretical disbeliever in ghosts, how he met the +horseman returning from his foray into Sleepy Hollow, and was obliged +to get up behind him; how they galloped over bush and brake, over hill +and swamp, until they reached the bridge; when the horseman suddenly +turned into a skeleton, threw old Brouwer into the brook, and sprang +away over the treetops with a clap of thunder. +</P> + +<P> +This story was immediately matched by a thrice marvelous adventure of +Brom Bones, who made light of the galloping Hessian as an arrant +jockey. He affirmed that, on returning one night from the neighboring +village of Sing Sing, he had been overtaken by this midnight trooper; +that he had offered to race with him for a bowl of punch, and should +have won it too, for Daredevil beat the goblin horse all hollow, but +just as they came to the church bridge the Hessian bolted, and vanished +in a flash of fire. +</P> + +<P> +All these tales, told in that drowsy undertone with which men talk in +the dark, the countenances of the listeners only now and then receiving +a casual gleam from the glare of a pipe, sunk deep in the mind of +Ichabod. He repaid them in kind with large extracts from his +invaluable author, Cotton Mather, and added many marvelous events that +had taken place in his native State of Connecticut, and fearful sights +which he had seen in his nightly walks about Sleepy Hollow. +</P> + +<P> +The revel now gradually broke up. The old farmers gathered together +their families in their wagons, and were heard for some time rattling +along the hollow roads, and over the distant hills. Some of the +damsels mounted on pillions behind their favorite swains, and their +light-hearted laughter, mingling with the clatter of hoofs, echoed +along the silent woodlands, sounding fainter and fainter, until they +gradually died away—and the late scene of noise and frolic was all +silent and deserted. Ichabod only lingered behind, according to the +custom of country lovers, to have a tete-a-tete with the heiress, fully +convinced that he was now on the high road to success. What passed at +this interview I will not pretend to say, for in fact I do not know. +Something, however, I fear me, must have gone wrong, for he certainly +sallied forth, after no very great interval, with an air quite desolate +and chapfallen.—Oh, these women! these women! Could that girl have +been playing off any of her coquettish tricks?—Was her encouragement +of the poor pedagogue all a mere sham to secure her conquest of his +rival?—Heaven only knows, not I!—Let it suffice to say, Ichabod stole +forth with the air of one who had been sacking a hen-roost, rather than +a fair lady's heart. Without looking to the right or left to notice +the scene of rural wealth on which he had so often gloated, he went +straight to the stable, and with several hearty cuffs and kicks roused +his steed most uncourteously from the comfortable quarters in which he +was soundly sleeping, dreaming of mountains of corn and oats, and whole +valleys of timothy and clover. +</P> + +<P> +It was the very witching time of night that Ichabod, heavy-hearted and +crestfallen, pursued his travel homeward, along the sides of the lofty +hills which rise above Tarry Town, and which he had traversed so +cheerily in the afternoon. The hour was as dismal as himself. Far +below him the Tappaan Zee spread its dusky and indistinct waste of +waters, with here and there the tall mast of a sloop, riding quietly at +anchor under the land. In the dead hush of midnight he could even hear +the barking of the watch-dog from the opposite shore of the Hudson; but +it was so vague and faint as only to give an idea of his distance from +this faithful companion of man. Now and then, too, the long-drawn +crowing of a cock, accidentally awakened, would sound far, far off, +from some farmhouse away among the hills—but it was like a dreaming +sound in his ear. No signs of life occurred near him, but occasionally +the melancholy chirp of a cricket, or perhaps the guttural twang of a +bullfrog from a neighboring marsh, as if sleeping uncomfortably, and +turning suddenly in his bed. +</P> + +<P> +All the stories of ghosts and goblins that he had heard in the +afternoon now came crowding upon his recollection. The night grew +darker and darker, the stars seemed to sink deeper in the sky, and +driving clouds occasionally hid them from his sight. He had never felt +so lonely and dismal. He was, moreover, approaching the very place +where many of the scenes of the ghost stories had been laid. In the +center of the road stood an enormous tulip tree, which towered like a +giant above all the other trees of the neighborhood, and formed a kind +of landmark. Its limbs were gnarled and fantastic, large enough to +form trunks for ordinary trees, twisting down almost to the earth, and +rising again into the air. It was connected with the tragical story of +the unfortunate André, who had been taken prisoner hard by; and was +universally known by the name of Major André's tree. The common people +regarded it with a mixture of respect and superstition, partly out of +sympathy for the fate of its ill-starred namesake, and partly from the +tales of strange sights and doleful lamentations told concerning it. +</P> + +<P> +As Ichabod approached this fearful tree he began to whistle; he thought +his whistle was answered: it was but a blast sweeping sharply through +the dry branches. As he approached a little nearer, he thought he saw +something white hanging in the midst of the tree: he paused, and ceased +whistling; but, on looking more narrowly, perceived that it was a place +where the tree had been scathed by lightning and the white wood laid +bare. Suddenly he heard a groan—his teeth chattered, and his knees +smote against the saddle: it was but the rubbing of one huge bough upon +another, as they were swayed about by the breeze. He passed the tree +in safety, but new perils lay before him. +</P> + +<P> +About two hundred yards from the tree a small brook crossed the road, +and ran into a marshy and thickly wooded glen known by the name of +Wiley's Swamp. A few rough logs, laid side by side, served for a +bridge over this stream. On that side of the road where the brook +entered the wood a group of oaks and chestnuts, matted thick with wild +grape-vines, threw a cavernous gloom over it. To pass this bridge was +the severest trial. It was at this identical spot that the unfortunate +André was captured, and under the covert of those chestnuts and vines +were the sturdy yeomen concealed who surprised him. This has ever +since been considered a haunted stream, and fearful are the feelings of +a schoolboy who has to pass it alone after dark. +</P> + +<P> +As he approached the stream his heart began to thump; he summoned up, +however, all his resolution, gave his horse half a score of kicks in +the ribs, and attempted to dash briskly across the bridge; but instead +of starting forward, the perverse old animal made a lateral movement, +and ran broadside against the fence. Ichabod, whose fears increased +with the delay, jerked the reins on the other side, and kicked lustily +with the contrary foot. It was all in vain; his steed started, it is +true, but it was only to plunge to the opposite side of the road into a +thicket of brambles and alder-bushes. The schoolmaster now bestowed +both whip and heel upon the starveling ribs of old Gunpowder, who +dashed forward, snuffling and snorting, but came to a stand just by the +bridge with a suddenness that had nearly sent his rider sprawling over +his head. Just at this moment a plashy tramp by the side of the bridge +caught the sensitive ear of Ichabod. In the dark shadow of the grove, +on the margin of the brook, he beheld something huge, misshapen, black +and towering. It stirred not, but seemed gathered up in the gloom, +like some gigantic monster ready to spring upon the traveler. +</P> + +<P> +The hair of the affrighted pedagogue rose upon his head with terror. +What was to be done? To turn and fly was now too late; and besides, +what chance was there of escaping ghost or goblin, if such it was, +which could ride upon the wings of the wind? Summoning up, therefore, +a show of courage, he demanded in stammering accents—"Who are you?" +He received no reply. He repeated his demand in a still more agitated +voice. Still there was no answer. Once more he cudgeled the sides of +the inflexible Gunpowder, and shutting his eyes, broke forth with +involuntary fervor into a psalm tune. Just then the shadowy object of +alarm put itself in motion, and with a scramble and a bound stood at +once in the middle of the road. Though the night was dark and dismal, +yet the form of the unknown might now in some degree be ascertained. +He appeared to be a horseman of large dimensions, and mounted on a +black horse of powerful frame. He made no offer of molestation or +sociability, but kept aloof on one side of the road, jogging along on +the blind side of old Gunpowder, who had now got over his fright and +waywardness. +</P> + +<P> +Ichabod, who had no relish for this strange midnight companion, and +bethought himself of the adventure of Brom Bones with the galloping +Hessian, now quickened his steed, in hopes of leaving him behind. The +stranger, however, quickened his horse to an equal pace. Ichabod +pulled up, and fell into a walk, thinking to lag behind—the other did +the same. His heart began to sink within him; he endeavored to resume +his psalm tune, but his parched tongue clove to the roof of his mouth, +and he could not utter a stave. There was something in the moody and +dogged silence of this pertinacious companion that was mysterious and +appalling. It was soon fearfully accounted for. On mounting a rising +ground, which brought the figure of his fellow-traveler in relief +against the sky, gigantic in height, and muffled in a cloak, Ichabod +was horror-struck, on perceiving that he was headless! but his horror +was still more increased, on observing that the head, which should have +rested on his shoulders, was carried before him on the pommel of his +saddle! His terror rose to desperation; he rained a shower of kicks +and blows upon Gunpowder, hoping, by a sudden movement, to give his +companion the slip—but the specter started full jump with him. Away, +then, they dashed through thick and thin; stones flying and sparks +flashing at every bound. Ichabod's flimsy garments fluttered in the +air, as he stretched his long lank body away over his horse's head, in +the eagerness of his flight. +</P> + +<P> +They had now reached the road which turns off to Sleepy Hollow; but +Gunpowder, who seemed possessed with a demon, instead of keeping up it, +made an opposite turn, and plunged headlong downhill to the left. This +road leads through a sandy hollow, shaded by trees for about a quarter +of a mile, where it crosses the bridge famous in goblin story; and just +beyond swells the green knoll on which stands the whitewashed church. +</P> + +<P> +As yet the panic of the steed had given his unskillful rider an +apparent advantage in the chase; but just as he had got half-way +through the hollow, the girths of the saddle gave way, and he felt it +slipping from under him. He seized it by the pommel, and endeavored to +hold it firm, but in vain; and had just time to save himself by +clasping old Gunpowder round the neck, when the saddle fell to the +earth, and he heard it trampled under foot by his pursuer. For a +moment the terror of Hans Van Ripper's wrath passed across his +mind—for it was his Sunday saddle; but this was no time for petty +fears: the goblin was hard on his haunches; and (unskillful rider that +he was!) he had much ado to maintain his seat; sometimes slipping on +one side, sometimes on another, and sometimes jolted on the high ridge +of his horse's backbone, with a violence that he verily feared would +cleave him asunder. +</P> + +<P> +An opening in the trees now cheered him with the hopes that the church +bridge was at hand. The wavering reflection of a silver star in the +bosom of the brook told him that he was not mistaken. He saw the walls +of the church dimly glaring under the trees beyond. He recollected the +place where Brom Bones's ghostly competitor had disappeared. "If I can +but reach that bridge," thought Ichabod, "I am safe." Just then he +heard the black steed panting and blowing close behind him; he even +fancied that he felt his hot breath. Another convulsive kick in the +ribs, and old Gunpowder sprung upon the bridge; he thundered over the +resounding planks; he gained the opposite side, and now Ichabod cast a +look behind to see if his pursuer should vanish, according to rule, in +a flash of fire and brimstone. Just then he saw the goblin rising in +his stirrups, and in the very act of hurling his head at him. Ichabod +endeavored to dodge the horrible missile, but too late. It encountered +his cranium with a tremendous crash—he was tumbled headlong into the +dust, and Gunpowder, the black steed, and the goblin rider, passed by +like a whirlwind. +</P> + +<P> +The next morning the old horse was found without his saddle, and with +the bridle under his feet, soberly cropping the grass at his master's +gate. Ichabod did not make his appearance at breakfast—dinner-hour +came, but no Ichabod. The boys assembled at the schoolhouse, and +strolled idly about the banks of the brook; but no schoolmaster. Hans +Van Ripper now began to feel some uneasiness about the fate of poor +Ichabod, and his saddle. An inquiry was set on foot, and after +diligent investigation they came upon his traces. In one part of the +road leading to the church was found the saddle trampled in the dirt; +the tracks of horses' hoofs deeply dented in the road, and evidently at +furious speed, were traced to the bridge, beyond which, on the bank of +a broad part of the brook, where the water ran deep and black, was +found the hat of the unfortunate Ichabod, and close beside it a +shattered pumpkin. +</P> + +<P> +The brook was searched, but the body of the schoolmaster was not to be +discovered. Hans Van Ripper, as executor of his estate, examined the +bundle which contained all his worldly effects. They consisted of two +shirts and a half; two stocks for the neck; a pair or two of worsted +stockings; an old pair of corduroy small-clothes; a rusty razor; a book +of psalm tunes full of dog's ears; and a broken pitch-pipe. As to the +books and furniture of the schoolhouse, they belonged to the community, +excepting Cotton Mather's "History of Witchcraft," a New England +Almanac, and a book of dreams and fortune-telling; in which last was a +sheet of foolscap much scribbled and blotted, by several fruitless +attempts to make a copy of verses in honor of the heiress of Van +Tassel. These magic books and the poetic scrawl were forthwith +consigned to the flames by Hans Van Ripper; who, from that time +forward, determined to send his children no more to school; observing +that he never knew any good come of this same reading and writing. +Whatever money the schoolmaster possessed, and he had received his +quarter's pay but a day or two before, he must have had about his +person at the time of his disappearance. +</P> + +<P> +The mysterious event caused much speculation at the church on the +following Sunday. Knots of gazers and gossips were collected in the +churchyard, at the bridge, and at the spot where the hat and pumpkin +had been found. The stories of Brouwer, of Bones, and a whole budget +of others, were called to mind; and when they had diligently considered +them all, and compared them with the symptoms of the present case, they +shook their heads, and came to the conclusion that Ichabod had been +carried off by the galloping Hessian. As he was a bachelor, and in +nobody's debt, nobody troubled his head any more about him; the school +was removed to a different quarter of the Hollow, and another pedagogue +reigned in his stead. +</P> + +<P> +It is true, an old farmer, who had been down to New York on a visit +several years after, and from whom this account of the ghostly +adventure was received, brought home the intelligence that Ichabod +Crane was still alive; that he had left the neighborhood partly through +fear of the goblin and Hans Van Ripper, and partly in mortification at +having been suddenly dismissed by the heiress; that he had changed his +quarters to a distant part of the country; had kept school and studied +law at the same time; had been admitted to the bar; turned politician; +electioneered; written for the newspapers; and finally had been made a +Justice of the Ten Pound Court. Brom Bones too, who, shortly after his +rival's disappearance, conducted the blooming Katrina in triumph to the +altar, was observed to look exceedingly knowing whenever the story of +Ichabod was related, and always burst into a hearty laugh at the +mention of the pumpkin; which led some to suspect that he knew more +about the matter than he chose to tell. +</P> + +<P> +The old country wives, however, who are the best judges of these +matters, maintain to this day that Ichabod was spirited away by +supernatural means; and it is a favorite story often told about the +neighborhood round the winter evening fire. The bridge became more +than ever an object of superstitious awe; and that may be the reason +why the road has been altered of late years, so as to approach the +church by the border of the mill-pond. The schoolhouse being deserted, +soon fell to decay, and was reported to be haunted by the ghost of the +unfortunate pedagogue; and the plow-boy, loitering homeward of a still +summer evening, has often fancied his voice at a distance, chanting a +melancholy psalm tune among the tranquil solitudes of Sleepy Hollow. +</P> + +<BR> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +POSTSCRIPT +</H4> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +FOUND IN THE HANDWRITING OF MR. KNICKERBOCKER +</H4> + +<P> +The preceding Tale is given, almost in the precise words in which I +heard it related at a Corporation meeting of the ancient city of the +Manhattoes,[<A NAME="chap02fn2text"></A><A HREF="#chap02fn2">2</A>] at which were present many of its sagest and most +illustrious burghers. The narrator was a pleasant, shabby, gentlemanly +old fellow in pepper-and-salt clothes, with a sadly humorous face; and +one whom I strongly suspected of being poor—he made such efforts to be +entertaining. When his story was concluded there was much laughter and +approbation, particularly from two or three deputy aldermen, who had +been asleep the greater part of the time. There was, however, one +tall, dry-looking old gentleman, with beetling eyebrows, who maintained +a grave and rather severe face throughout; now and then folding his +arms, inclining his head, and looking down upon the floor, as if +turning a doubt over in his mind. He was one of your wary men, who +never laugh but upon good grounds—when they have reason and the law on +their side. When the mirth of the rest of the company had subsided, +and silence was restored, he leaned one arm on the elbow of his chair, +and sticking the other a-kimbo, demanded, with a slight but exceedingly +sage motion of the head and contraction of the brow, what was the moral +of the story, and what it went to prove. +</P> + +<P> +The story-teller, who was just putting a glass of wine to his lips, as +a refreshment after his toils, paused for a moment, looked at his +inquirer with an air of infinite deference, and lowering the glass +slowly to the table, observed that the story was intended most +logically to prove: +</P> + +<P> +"That there is no situation in life but has its advantages and +pleasures—provided we will but take a joke as we find it; +</P> + +<P> +"That, therefore, he that runs races with goblin troopers is likely to +have rough riding of it; +</P> + +<P> +"Ergo, for a country schoolmaster to be refused the hand of a Dutch +heiress is a certain step to high preferment in the State." +</P> + +<P> +The cautious old gentleman knit his brows tenfold closer after this +explanation, being sorely puzzled by the ratiocination of the +syllogism; while, methought, the one in pepper-and-salt eyed him with +something of a triumphant leer. At length he observed, that all this +was very well, but still he thought the story a little on the +extravagant—there were one or two points on which he had his doubts: +</P> + +<P> +"Faith, sir," replied the story-teller, "as to that matter, I don't +believe one-half of it myself." +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +D. K. +</P> + +<BR><BR> + +<P CLASS="footnote"> +<A NAME="chap02fn1"></A> +[<A HREF="#chap02fn1text">1</A>] The whip-poor-will is a bird which is only heard at night. It +receives its name from its note, which is thought to resemble those +words. +</P> + +<P CLASS="footnote"> +<A NAME="chap02fn2"></A> +[<A HREF="#chap02fn2text">2</A>] New York. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap03"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE GOLD-BUG +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +By EDGAR ALLAN POE +</H4> + +<P CLASS="intro"> +What ho! what ho! this fellow is dancing mad!<BR> +He hath been bitten by the Tarantula.<BR> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 4em">—<I>All in the Wrong</I></SPAN><BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Many years ago, I contracted an intimacy with a Mr. William Legrand. +He was of an ancient Huguenot family, and had once been wealthy; but a +series of misfortunes had reduced him to want. To avoid the +mortification consequent upon his disasters, he left New Orleans, the +city of his forefathers, and took up his residence at Sullivan's +Island, near Charleston, South Carolina. +</P> + +<P> +This island is a very singular one. It consists of little else than +the sea sand, and is about three miles long. Its breadth at no point +exceeds a quarter of a mile. It is separated from the mainland by a +scarcely perceptible creek, oozing its way through a wilderness of +reeds and slime, a favorite resort of the marsh-hen. The vegetation, +as might be supposed, is scant, or at least dwarfish. No trees of any +magnitude are to be seen. Near the western extremity, where Fort +Moultrie stands, and where are some miserable frame buildings, +tenanted, during the summer, by the fugitives from Charleston dust and +fever, may be found, indeed, the bristly palmetto; but the whole +island, with the exception of this western point, and a line of hard, +white beach on the seacoast, is covered with a dense undergrowth of the +sweet myrtle so much prized by the horticulturists of England. The +shrub here often attains the height of fifteen or twenty feet, and +forms an almost impenetrable coppice, burdening the air with its +fragrance. +</P> + +<P> +In the inmost recesses of this coppice, not far from the eastern or +more remote end of the island, Legrand had built himself a small hut, +which he occupied when I first, by mere accident, made his +acquaintance. This soon ripened into friendship—for there was much in +the recluse to excite interest and esteem. I found him well educated, +with unusual powers of mind, but infected with misanthropy, and subject +to perverse moods of alternate enthusiasm and melancholy. He had with +him many books, but rarely employed them. His chief amusements were +gunning and fishing, or sauntering along the beach and through the +myrtles, in quest of shells or entomological specimens—his collection +of the latter might have been envied by a Swammerdamm. In these +excursions he was usually accompanied by an old negro, called Jupiter, +who had been manumitted before the reverses of the family, but who +could be induced, neither by threats nor by promises, to abandon what +he considered his right of attendance upon the footsteps of his young +"Massa Will." It is not improbable that the relatives of Legrand, +conceiving him to be somewhat unsettled in intellect, had contrived to +instil this obstinacy into Jupiter, with a view to the supervision and +guardianship of the wanderer. +</P> + +<P> +The winters in the latitude of Sullivan's Island are seldom very +severe, and in the fall of the year it is a rare event indeed when a +fire is considered necessary. About the middle of October, 18—, there +occurred, however, a day of remarkable chilliness. Just before sunset +I scrambled my way through the evergreens to the hut of my friend, whom +I had not visited for several weeks—my residence being, at that time, +in Charleston, a distance of nine miles from the island, while the +facilities of passage and re-passage were very far behind those of the +present day. Upon reaching the hut I rapped, as was my custom, and +getting no reply, sought for the key where I knew it was secreted, +unlocked the door, and went in. A fine fire was blazing upon the +hearth. It was a novelty, and by no means an ungrateful one. I threw +off an overcoat, took an armchair by the crackling logs, and awaited +patiently the arrival of my hosts. +</P> + +<P> +Soon after dark they arrived, and gave me a most cordial welcome. +Jupiter, grinning from ear to ear, bustled about to prepare some +marsh-hens for supper. Legrand was in one of his fits—how else shall +I term them?—of enthusiasm. He had found an unknown bivalve, forming +a new genus, and, more than this, he had hunted down and secured, with +Jupiter's assistance, a <I>scarabaeus</I> which he believed to be totally +new, but in respect to which he wished to have my opinion on the morrow. +</P> + +<P> +"And why not to-night?" I asked, rubbing my hands over the blaze, and +wishing the whole tribe of <I>scarabaei</I> at the devil. +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, if I had only known you were here!" said Legrand, "but it's so +long since I saw you; and how could I foresee that you would pay me a +visit this very night, of all others? As I was coming home I met +Lieutenant G——, from the fort, and, very foolishly, I lent him the +bug; so it will be impossible for you to see it until the morning. +Stay here to-night, and I will send Jup down for it at sunrise. It is +the loveliest thing in creation!" +</P> + +<P> +"What?—sunrise?" +</P> + +<P> +"Nonsense! no!—the bug. It is of a brilliant gold color—about the +size of a large hickory-nut—with two jet-black spots near one +extremity of the back, and another, somewhat longer, at the other. The +<I>antennae</I> are—" +</P> + +<P> +"Dey ain't no tin in him, Massa Will, I keep a tellin' on you," here +interrupted Jupiter; "de bug is a goole-bug, solid, ebery bit of him, +inside and all, sep him wing—neber feel half so hebby a bug in my +life." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, suppose it is, Jup," replied Legrand, somewhat more earnestly, +it seemed to me, than the case demanded; "is that any reason for your +letting the birds burn? The color—" here he turned to me—"is really +almost enough to warrant Jupiter's idea. You never saw a more +brilliant metallic lustre than the scales emit—but of this you cannot +judge till to-morrow. In the meantime I can give you some idea of the +shape." Saying this, he seated himself at a small table, on which were +a pen and ink, but no paper. He looked for some in a drawer, but found +none. +</P> + +<P> +"Never mind," he said at length, "this will answer;" and he drew from +his waistcoat pocket a scrap of what I took to be very dirty foolscap, +and made upon it a rough drawing with the pen. While he did this, I +retained my seat by the fire, for I was still chilly. When the design +was complete, he handed it to me without rising. As I received it, a +loud growl was heard, succeeded by a scratching at the door. Jupiter +opened it, and a large Newfoundland, belonging to Legrand, rushed in, +leaped upon my shoulders, and loaded me with caresses; for I had shown +him much attention during previous visits. When his gambols were over, +I looked at the paper, and, to speak the truth, found myself not a +little puzzled at what my friend had depicted. +</P> + +<P> +"Well!" I said, after contemplating it for some minutes, "this <I>is</I> a +strange <I>scarabaeus</I>, I must confess; new to me; never saw anything +like it before—unless it was a skull, or a death's-head, which it more +nearly resembles than anything else that has come under <I>my</I> +observation." +</P> + +<P> +"A death's-head!" echoed Legrand. "Oh—yes well, it has something of +that appearance upon paper, no doubt. The two upper black spots look +like eyes, eh? and the longer one at the bottom like a mouth—and then +the shape of the whole is oval." +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps so," said I; "but, Legrand, I fear you are no artist. I must +wait until I see the beetle itself, if I am to form any idea of its +personal appearance." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I don't know," said he, a little nettled, "I draw +tolerably—<I>should</I> do it at least—have had good masters, and flatter +myself that I am not quite a blockhead." +</P> + +<P> +"But, my dear fellow, you are joking, then," said I; "this is a very +passable <I>skull</I>—indeed, I may say that it is a very <I>excellent</I> +skull, according to the vulgar notions about such specimens of +physiology—and your <I>scarabaeus</I> must be the queerest <I>scarabaeus</I> in +the world if it resembles it. Why, we may get up a very thrilling bit +of superstition upon this hint. I presume you will call the bug +<I>scarabaeus caput hominis</I>, or something of that kind—there are many +similar titles in the Natural Histories. But where are the <I>antennae</I> +you spoke of?" +</P> + +<P> +"The <I>antennae</I>!" said Legrand, who seemed to be getting unaccountably +warm upon the subject; "I am sure you must see the <I>antennae</I>. I made +them as distinct as they are in the original insect, and I presume that +is sufficient." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, well," I said, "perhaps you have—still I don't see them;" and I +handed him the paper without additional remark, not wishing to ruffle +his temper; but I was much surprised at the turn affairs had taken; his +ill humor puzzled me—and, as for the drawing of the beetle, there were +positively <I>no antennae</I> visible, and the whole did bear a very close +resemblance to the ordinary cuts of a death's-head. +</P> + +<P> +He received the paper very peevishly, and was about to crumple it, +apparently to throw it in the fire, when a casual glance at the design +seemed suddenly to rivet his attention. In an instant his face grew +violently red—in another excessively pale. For some minutes he +continued to scrutinize the drawing minutely where he sat. At length +he arose, took a candle from the table, and proceeded to seat himself +upon a sea-chest in the furthest corner of the room. Here again he +made an anxious examination of the paper; turning it in all directions. +He said nothing, however, and his conduct greatly astonished me; yet I +thought it prudent not to exacerbate the growing moodiness of his +temper by any comment. Presently he took from his coat-pocket a +wallet, placed the paper carefully in it, and deposited both in a +writing-desk, which he locked. He now grew more composed in his +demeanor; but his original air of enthusiasm had quite disappeared. +Yet he seemed not so much sulky as abstracted. As the evening wore +away he became more and more absorbed in revery, from which no sallies +of mine could arouse him. It had been my intention to pass the night +at the hut, as I had frequently done before, but, seeing my host in +this mood, I deemed it proper to take leave. He did not press me to +remain, but, as I departed, he shook my hand with even more than his +usual cordiality. +</P> + +<P> +It was about a month after this (and during the interval I had seen +nothing of Legrand) when I received a visit, at Charleston, from his +man, Jupiter. I had never seen the good old negro look so dispirited, +and I feared that some serious disaster had befallen my friend. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, Jup," said I, "what is the matter now?—how is your master?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why, to speak de troof, massa, him not so berry well as mought be." +</P> + +<P> +"Not well! I am truly sorry to hear it. What does he complain of?" +</P> + +<P> +"Dar! dat's it!—him neber 'plain of notin'—but him berry sick for all +dat." +</P> + +<P> +"<I>Very</I> sick, Jupiter!—why didn't you say so at once? Is he confined +to bed?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, dat he aint—he aint 'fin'd nowhar—dat's just whar de shoe +pinch—my mind is got to be berry hebby 'bout poor Massa Will." +</P> + +<P> +"Jupiter, I should like to understand what it is you are talking about. +You say your master is sick. Hasn't he told you what ails him?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why, massa, 'taint worf while for to git mad about de matter—Massa +Will say noffin at all aint de matter wid him—but den what make him go +about looking dis here way, wid he head down and he soldiers up, and as +white as a goose? And den he keep a syphon all de time—" +</P> + +<P> +"Keeps a what, Jupiter?" +</P> + +<P> +"Keeps a syphon wid de figgurs on de slate—de queerest figgurs I ebber +did see. Ise gittin' to be skeered, I tell you. Hab for to keep +mighty tight eye 'pon him 'noovers. Todder day he gib me slip 'fore de +sun up and was gone de whole ob de blessed day. I had a big stick +ready cut for to gib him deuced good beating when he did come—but Ise +sich a fool dat I hadn't de heart arter all—he looked so berry poorly." +</P> + +<P> +"Eh?—what?—ah yes!—upon the whole I think you had better not be too +severe with the poor fellow—don't flog him, Jupiter—he can't very +well stand it—but can you form no idea of what has occasioned this +illness, or rather this change of conduct? Has anything unpleasant +happened since I saw you?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, massa, dey aint bin noffin onpleasant <I>since</I> den—'twas <I>'fore</I> +den I'm feared—'twas de berry day you was dare." +</P> + +<P> +"How? what do you mean?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why, massa, I mean de bug—dare now." +</P> + +<P> +"The what?" +</P> + +<P> +"De bug—I'm berry sartin dat Massa Will bin bit somewhere 'bout de +head by dat goole-bug." +</P> + +<P> +"And what cause have you, Jupiter, for such a supposition?" +</P> + +<P> +"Claws enuff, massa, and mouff, too. I nebber did see sich a deuced +bug—he kick and he bite ebery ting what cum near him. Massa Will +cotch him fuss, but had for to let him go 'gin mighty quick, I tell +you—den was de time he must ha' got de bite. I didn't like de look ob +de bug mouff, myself, nohow, so I wouldn't take hold ob him wid my +finger, but I cotch him wid a piece ob paper dat I found. I rap him up +in de paper and stuff a piece of it in he mouff—dat was de way." +</P> + +<P> +"And you think, then, that your master was really bitten by the beetle, +and that the bite made him sick?" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't think noffin about it—I nose it. What make him dream 'bout +de goole so much, if 'taint cause he bit by the goole-bug? Ise heered +'bout dem goole-bugs 'fore dis." +</P> + +<P> +"But how do you know he dreams about gold?" +</P> + +<P> +"How I know? why, 'cause he talk about it in he sleep—dat's how I +nose." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, Jup, perhaps you are right; but to what fortunate circumstance +am I to attribute the honor of a visit from you to-day?" +</P> + +<P> +"What de matter, massa?" +</P> + +<P> +"Did you bring any message from Mr. Legrand?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, massa, I bring dis here pissel;" and here Jupiter handed me a note +which ran thus: +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +"My Dear—: Why have I not seen you for so long a time? I hope you +have not been so foolish as to take offence at any little brusquerie of +mine; but no, that is improbable. +</P> + +<P> +"Since I saw you I have had great cause for anxiety. I have something +to tell you, yet scarcely know how to tell it, or whether I should tell +it at all. +</P> + +<P> +"I have not been quite well for some days past, and poor old Jup annoys +me, almost beyond endurance, by his well-meant attentions. Would you +believe it?—he had prepared a huge stick, the other day, with which to +chastise me for giving him the slip, and spending the day, solus, among +the hills on the main land. I verily believe that my ill looks alone +saved me a flogging. +</P> + +<P> +"I have made no addition to my cabinet since we met. +</P> + +<P> +"If you can, in any way, make it convenient, come over with Jupiter. +Do come. I wish to see you to-night, upon business of importance. I +assure you that it is of the highest importance. +</P> + +<P CLASS="nonident"> +"Ever yours,<BR> + "William Legrand."<BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +There was something in the tone of this note which gave me great +uneasiness. Its whole style differed materially from that of Legrand. +What could he be dreaming of? What new crotchet possessed his +excitable brain? What "business of the highest importance" could he +possibly have to transact? Jupiter's account of him boded no good. I +dreaded lest the continued pressure of misfortune had, at length, +fairly unsettled the reason of my friend. Without a moment's +hesitation, therefore, I prepared to accompany the negro. +</P> + +<P> +Upon reaching the wharf, I noticed a scythe and three spades, all +apparently new, lying in the bottom of the boat in which we were to +embark. +</P> + +<P> +"What is the meaning of all this, Jup?" I inquired. +</P> + +<P> +"Him syfe, massa, and spade." +</P> + +<P> +"Very true; but what are they doing here?" +</P> + +<P> +"Him de syfe and de spade what Massa Will sis pon my buying for him in +de town, and de debbil's own lot of money I had to gib for 'em." +</P> + +<P> +"But what, in the name of all that is mysterious, is your 'Massa Will' +going to do with scythes and spades?" +</P> + +<P> +"Dat's more dan <I>I</I> know, and debbil take me if I don't b'lieve 'tis +more dan he know, too. But it's all cum ob de bug." +</P> + +<P> +Finding that no satisfaction was to be obtained of Jupiter, whose whole +intellect seemed to be absorbed by "de bug," I now stepped into the +boat, and made sail. With a fair and strong breeze we soon ran into +the little cove to the northward of Port Moultrie, and a walk of some +two miles brought us to the hut. It was about three in the afternoon +when we arrived. Legrand had been awaiting us in eager expectation. +He grasped my hand with a nervous <I>empressement</I> which alarmed me and +strengthened the suspicions already entertained. His countenance was +pale even to ghastliness, and his deep-set eyes glared with unnatural +lustre. After some inquiries respecting his health, I asked him, not +knowing what better to say, if he had yet obtained the <I>scarabaeus</I> +from Lieutenant G——. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, yes," he replied, coloring violently, "I got it from him the next +morning. Nothing should tempt me to part with that <I>scarabaeus</I>. Do +you know that Jupiter is quite right about it?" +</P> + +<P> +"In what way?" I asked, with a sad foreboding at heart. +</P> + +<P> +"In supposing it to be a bug of real gold." He said this with an air +of profound seriousness, and I felt inexpressibly shocked. +</P> + +<P> +"This bug is to make my fortune," he continued, with a triumphant +smile; "to reinstate me in my family possessions. Is it any wonder, +then, that I prize it? Since Fortune has thought fit to bestow it upon +me, I have only to use it properly, and I shall arrive at the gold of +which it is the index. Jupiter, bring me that <I>scarabaeus</I>!" +</P> + +<P> +"What! de bug, massa? I'd rudder not go fer trubble dat bug; you mus' +git him for your own self." Hereupon Legrand arose, with a grave and +stately air, and brought me the beetle from a glass case in which it +was enclosed. It was a beautiful <I>scarabaeus</I>, and, at that time, +unknown to naturalists—of course a great prize in a scientific point +of view. There were two round black spots near one extremity of the +back, and a long one near the other. The scales were exceedingly hard +and glossy, with all the appearance of burnished gold. The weight of +the insect was very remarkable, and, taking all things into +consideration, I could hardly blame Jupiter for his opinion respecting +it; but what to make of Legrand's concordance with that opinion, I +could not, for the life of me, tell. +</P> + +<P> +"I sent for you," said he, in a grandiloquent tone, when I had +completed my examination of the beetle, "I sent for you that I might +have your counsel and assistance in furthering the views of Fate and of +the frag—" +</P> + +<P> +"My dear Legrand," I cried, interrupting him, "you are certainly +unwell, and had better use some little precautions. You shall go to +bed, and I will remain with you a few days, until you get over this. +You are feverish and—" +</P> + +<P> +"Feel my pulse," said he. +</P> + +<P> +I felt it, and to say the truth, found not the slightest indication of +fever. +</P> + +<P> +"But you may be ill and yet have no fever. Allow me this once to +prescribe for you. In the first place, go to bed. In the next—" +</P> + +<P> +"You are mistaken," he interposed, "I am as well as I can expect to be +under the excitement which I suffer. If you really wish me well, you +will relieve this excitement." +</P> + +<P> +"And how is this to be done?" +</P> + +<P> +"Very easily. Jupiter and myself are going upon an expedition into the +hills, upon the mainland, and, in this expedition, we shall need the +aid of some person in whom we can confide. You are the only one we can +trust. Whether we succeed or fail, the excitement which you now +perceive in me will be equally allayed." +</P> + +<P> +"I am anxious to oblige you in any way," I replied; "but do you mean to +say that this infernal beetle has any connection with your expedition +into the hills?" +</P> + +<P> +"It has." +</P> + +<P> +"Then, Legrand, I can become a party to no such absurd proceeding." +</P> + +<P> +"I am sorry—very sorry—for we shall have to try it by ourselves." +</P> + +<P> +"Try it by yourselves! The man is surely mad!—but stay!—how long do +you propose to be absent?" +</P> + +<P> +"Probably all night. We shall start immediately, and be back, at all +events, by sunrise." +</P> + +<P> +"And will you promise me, upon your honor, that when this freak of +yours is over, and the bug business (good God!) settled to your +satisfaction, you will then return home and follow my advice +implicitly, as that of your physician?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes; I promise; and now let us be off, for we have no time to lose." +</P> + +<P> +With a heavy heart I accompanied my friend. We started about four +o'clock—Legrand, Jupiter, the dog, and myself. Jupiter had with him +the scythe and spades—the whole of which he insisted upon +carrying—more through fear, it seemed to me, of trusting either of the +implements within reach of his master, than from any excess of industry +or complaisance. His demeanor was dogged in the extreme, and "dat +deuced bug" were the sole words which escaped his lips during the +journey. For my own part, I had charge of a couple of dark lanterns, +while Legrand contented himself with the <I>scarabaeus</I>, which he carried +attached to the end of a bit of whip-cord; twirling it to and fro, with +the air of a conjurer, as he went. When I observed this last, plain +evidence of my friend's aberration of mind, I could scarcely refrain +from tears. I thought it best, however, to humor his fancy, at least +for the present, or until I could adopt some more energetic measures +with a chance of success. In the meantime I endeavored, but all in +vain, to sound him in regard to the object of the expedition. Having +succeeded in inducing me to accompany him, he seemed unwilling to hold +conversation upon any topic of minor importance, and to all my +questions vouchsafed no other reply than "we shall see!" +</P> + +<P> +We crossed the creek at the head of the island by means of a skiff, +and, ascending the high grounds on the shore of the main land, +proceeded in a northwesterly direction, through a tract of country +excessively wild and desolate, where no trace of a human footstep was +to be seen. Legrand led the way with decision; pausing only for an +instant, here and there, to consult what appeared to be certain +landmarks of his own contrivance upon a former occasion. +</P> + +<P> +In this manner we journeyed for about two hours, and the sun was just +setting when we entered a region infinitely more dreary than any yet +seen. It was a species of table-land, near the summit of an almost +inaccessible hill, densely wooded from base to pinnacle, and +interspersed with huge crags that appeared to lie loosely upon the +soil, and in many cases were prevented from precipitating themselves +into the valleys below, merely by the support of the trees against +which they reclined. Deep ravines, in various directions, gave an air +of still sterner solemnity to the scene. +</P> + +<P> +The natural platform to which we had clambered was thickly overgrown +with brambles, through which we soon discovered that it would have been +impossible to force our way but for the scythe; and Jupiter, by +direction of his master, proceeded to clear for us a path to the foot +of an enormously tall tulip-tree, which stood, with some eight or ten +oaks, upon the level, and far surpassed them all, and all other trees +which I had then ever seen, in the beauty of its foliage and form, in +the wide spread of its branches, and in the general majesty of its +appearance. When we reached this tree, Legrand turned to Jupiter, and +asked him if he thought he could climb it. The old man seemed a little +staggered by the question, and for some moments made no reply. At +length he approached the huge trunk, walked slowly around it and +examined it with minute attention. When he had completed his scrutiny, +he merely said: +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, massa, Jup climb any tree he eber see in he life." +</P> + +<P> +"Then up with you as soon as possible for it will soon be too dark to +see what we are about." +</P> + +<P> +"How far mus' go up, massa?" inquired Jupiter. +</P> + +<P> +"Get up the main trunk first, and then I will tell you which way to +go—and here—stop! take this beetle with you." +</P> + +<P> +"De bug, Massa Will!—de goole-bug!" cried the negro, drawing back in +dismay—"what for mus tote de bug way up de tree?—d—n if I do!" +</P> + +<P> +"If you are afraid, Jup, a great big negro like you, to take hold of a +harmless little dead beetle, why you can carry it up by this +string—but, if you do not take it up with you in some way, I shall be +under the necessity of breaking your head with this shovel." +</P> + +<P> +"What de matter now, massa?" said Jup, evidently shamed into +compliance; "always want for to raise fuss wid old nigger. Was only +funnin, anyhow. Me feered de bug! what I keer for de bug?" Here he +took cautiously hold of the extreme end of the string, and, maintaining +the insect as far from his person as circumstances would permit, +prepared to ascend the tree. +</P> + +<P> +In youth, the tulip-tree, or <I>Liriodendron Tulipiferum</I>, the most +magnificent of American foresters, has a trunk peculiarly smooth, and +often rises to a great height without lateral branches; but, in its +riper age, the bark becomes gnarled and uneven, while many short limbs +make their appearance on the stem. Thus the difficulty of ascension, +in the present case, lay more in semblance than in reality. Embracing +the huge cylinder, as closely as possible with his arms and knees, +seizing with his hands some projections, and resting his naked toes +upon others, Jupiter, after one or two narrow escapes from falling, at +length wriggled himself into the first great fork, and seemed to +consider the whole business as virtually accomplished. The <I>risk</I> of +the achievement was, in fact, now over, although the climber was some +sixty or seventy feet from the ground. +</P> + +<P> +"Which way mus go now, Massa Will?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Keep up the largest branch—the one on this side," said Legrand. The +negro obeyed him promptly, and apparently with but little trouble; +ascending higher and higher, until no glimpse of his squat figure could +be obtained through the dense foliage which enveloped it. Presently +his voice was heard in a sort of halloo. +</P> + +<P> +"How much fudder is got for go?" +</P> + +<P> +"How high up are you?" asked Legrand. +</P> + +<P> +"Ebber so fur," replied the negro; "can see de sky fru de top ob de +tree." +</P> + +<P> +"Never mind the sky, but attend to what I say. Look down the trunk and +count the limbs below you on this side. How many limbs have you +passed?" +</P> + +<P> +"One, two, tree, four, fibe—I done pass fibe big limb, massa, 'pon dis +side." +</P> + +<P> +"Then go one limb higher." +</P> + +<P> +In a few minutes the voice was heard again, announcing that the seventh +limb was attained. +</P> + +<P> +"Now, Jup," cried Legrand, evidently much excited, "I want you to work +your way out upon that limb as far as you can. If you see anything +strange let me know." +</P> + +<P> +By this time what little doubt I might have entertained of my poor +friend's insanity was put finally at rest. I had no alternative but to +conclude him stricken with lunacy, and I became seriously anxious about +getting him home. While I was pondering upon what was best to be done, +Jupiter's voice was again heard. +</P> + +<P> +"Mos feered for to ventur pon dis limb berry far—'tis dead limb putty +much all de way." +</P> + +<P> +"Did you say it was a <I>dead</I> limb, Jupiter?" cried Legrand in a +quavering voice. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, massa, him dead as de door-nail—done up for sartin—done +departed dis here life." +</P> + +<P> +"What in the name of heaven shall I do?" asked Legrand, seemingly in +the greatest distress. +</P> + +<P> +"Do!" said I, glad of an opportunity to interpose a word, "why, come +home and go to bed. Come now!—that's a fine fellow. It's getting +late, and, besides, you remember your promise." +</P> + +<P> +"Jupiter," cried he, without heeding me in the least, "do you hear me?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, Massa Will, hear you ebber so plain." +</P> + +<P> +"Try the wood well, then, with your knife, and see if you think it very +rotten." +</P> + +<P> +"Him rotten, massa, sure nuff," replied the negro in a few moments, +"but not so berry rotten as mought be. Mought venture our leetle way +pon de limb by myself, dat's true." +</P> + +<P> +"By yourself!—what do you mean?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why, I mean de bug. 'Tis <I>berry</I> hebby bug. Spose I drop him down +fuss, and den de limb won't break wid just de weight of one nigger." +</P> + +<P> +"You infernal scoundrel!" cried Legrand, apparently much relieved, +"what do you mean by telling me such nonsense as that? As sure as you +drop that beetle I'll break your neck. Look here, Jupiter, do you hear +me?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, massa, needn't hollo at poor nigger dat style." +</P> + +<P> +"Well! now listen!—if you will venture out on the limb as far as you +think safe, and not let go the beetle, I'll make you a present of a +silver dollar as soon as you get down." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm gwine, Massa Will—deed I is," replied the negro very +promptly—"mos out to the eend now." +</P> + +<P> +"<I>Out to the end!</I>" here fairly screamed Legrand; "do you say you are +out to the end of that limb?" +</P> + +<P> +"Soon be to the eend, massa—o-o-o-o-oh! Lor-gol-a-mercy! what <I>is</I> +dis here pon de tree?" +</P> + +<P> +"Well!" cried Legrand, highly delighted, "what is it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why, 'taint noffin but a skull—somebody bin lef him head up de tree, +and de crows done gobble ebery bit ob de meat off." +</P> + +<P> +"A skull, you say!—very well—how is it fastened to the limb?—what +holds it on?" +</P> + +<P> +"Sure nuff, massa; mus look. Why dis berry curious sarcumstance, pon +my word—dare's a great big nail in de skull, what fastens ob it on to +de tree." +</P> + +<P> +"Well now, Jupiter, do exactly as I tell you—do you hear?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, massa." +</P> + +<P> +"Pay attention, then—find the left eye of the skull." +</P> + +<P> +"Hum! hoo! dat's good! why dey ain't no eye lef at all." +</P> + +<P> +"Curse your stupidity! do you know your right hand from your left?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, I knows dat—knows all about dat—'tis my lef hand what I chops +de wood wid." +</P> + +<P> +"To be sure! you are left-handed; and your left eye is on the same side +as your left hand. Now, I suppose, you can find the left eye of the +skull, or the place where the left eye has been. Have you found it?" +</P> + +<P> +Here was a long pause. At length the negro asked: +</P> + +<P> +"Is de lef eye of de skull pon de same side as de lef hand of de skull, +too?—cause de skull aint got not a bit ob a hand at all—nebber mind! +I got de lef eye now—here de lef eye! what mus do wid it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Let the beetle drop through it, as far as the string will reach—but +be careful and not let go your hold of the string." +</P> + +<P> +"All dat done, Massa Will; mighty easy ting for to put de bug fru de +hole—look out for him dare below!" +</P> + +<P> +During this colloquy no portion of Jupiter's person could be seen; but +the beetle, which he had suffered to descend, was now visible at the +end of the string, and glistened, like a globe of burnished gold, in +the last rays of the setting sun, some of which still faintly illumined +the eminence upon which we stood. The <I>scarabaeus</I> hung quite clear of +any branches, and, if allowed to fall, would have fallen at our feet. +Legrand immediately took the scythe, and cleared with it a circular +space, three or four yards in diameter, just beneath the insect, and +having accomplished this, ordered Jupiter to let go the string and come +down from the tree. +</P> + +<P> +Driving a peg, with great nicety, into the ground, at the precise spot +where the beetle fell, my friend now produced from his pocket a +tape-measure. Fastening one end of this at that point of the trunk of +the tree which was nearest the peg, he unrolled it till it reached the +peg and thence further unrolled it, in the direction already +established by the two points of the tree and the peg, for the distance +of fifty feet—Jupiter clearing away the brambles with the scythe. At +the spot thus attained a second peg was driven, and about this, as a +centre, a rude circle, about four feet in diameter, described. Taking +now a spade himself, and giving one to Jupiter and one to me, Legrand +begged us to set about digging as quickly as possible. +</P> + +<P> +To speak the truth, I had no especial relish for such amusement at any +time, and, at that particular moment, would willingly have declined it; +for the night was coming on, and I felt much fatigued with the exercise +already taken; but I saw no mode of escape, and was fearful of +disturbing my poor friend's equanimity by a refusal. Could I have +depended, indeed, upon Jupiter's aid, I would have had no hesitation in +attempting to get the lunatic home by force; but I was too well assured +of the old negro's disposition to hope that he would assist me, under +any circumstances, in a personal contest with his master. I made no +doubt that the latter had been infected with some of the innumerable +Southern superstitions about money buried, and that his phantasy had +received confirmation by the finding of the <I>scarabaeus</I>, or, perhaps, +by Jupiter's obstinacy in maintaining it to be "a bug of real gold." A +mind disposed to lunacy would readily be led away by such +suggestions—especially if chiming in with favorite preconceived +ideas—and then I called to mind the poor fellow's speech about the +beetle's being "the index of his fortune." Upon the whole, I was sadly +vexed and puzzled, but, at length, I concluded to make a virtue of +necessity—to dig with a good will, and thus the sooner to convince the +visionary, by ocular demonstration, of the fallacy of the opinion he +entertained. +</P> + +<P> +The lanterns having been lit, we all fell to work with a zeal worthy a +more rational cause; and, as the glare fell upon our persons and +implements, I could not help thinking how picturesque a group we +composed, and how strange and suspicious our labors must have appeared +to any interloper who, by chance, might have stumbled upon our +whereabout. +</P> + +<P> +We dug very steadily for two hours. Little was said; and our chief +embarrassment lay in the yelpings of the dog, who took exceeding +interest in our proceedings. He, at length, became so obstreperous +that we grew fearful of his giving the alarm to some stragglers in the +vicinity—or, rather, this was the apprehension of Legrand;—for +myself, I should have rejoiced at any interruption which might have +enabled me to get the wanderer home. The noise was, at length, very +effectually silenced by Jupiter, who, getting out of the hole with a +dogged air of deliberation, tied the brute's mouth up with one of his +suspenders, and then returned, with a grave chuckle, to his task. +</P> + +<P> +When the time mentioned had expired, we had reached a depth of five +feet, and yet no signs of any treasure became manifest. A general +pause ensued, and I began to hope that the farce was at an end. +Legrand, however, although evidently much disconcerted, wiped his brow +thoughtfully and recommenced. We had excavated the entire circle of +four feet diameter, and now we slightly enlarged the limit, and went to +the further depth of two feet. Still nothing appeared. The +gold-seeker, whom I sincerely pitied, at length clambered from the pit, +with the bitterest disappointment imprinted upon every feature, and +proceeded, slowly and reluctantly, to put on his coat, which he had +thrown off at the beginning of his labor. In the meantime I made no +remark. Jupiter, at a signal from his master, began to gather up his +tools. This done, and the dog having been unmuzzled, we turned in +profound silence toward home. +</P> + +<P> +We had taken, perhaps, a dozen steps in this direction, when, with a +loud oath, Legrand strode up to Jupiter, and seized him by the collar. +The astonished negro opened his eyes and mouth to the fullest extent, +let fall the spades, and fell upon his knees. +</P> + +<P> +"You scoundrel!" said Legrand, hissing out the syllables from between +his clinched teeth—"you infernal black villain!—speak, I tell +you!—answer me this instant, without prevarication!—which—which is +your left eye?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, my golly, Massa Will! aint dis here my lef eye for attain?" roared +the terrified Jupiter, placing his hand upon his right organ of vision, +and holding it there with a desperate pertinacity, as if in immediate +dread of his master's attempt at a gouge. +</P> + +<P> +"I thought so!—I knew it! hurrah!" vociferated Legrand, letting the +negro go and executing a series of curvets and caracols, much to the +astonishment of his valet, who, arising from his knees, looked, mutely, +from his master to myself, and then from myself to his master. +</P> + +<P> +"Come! we must go back," said the latter, "the game's not up yet;" and +he again led the way to the tulip-tree. +</P> + +<P> +"Jupiter," said he, when we reached its foot, "come here! was the skull +nailed to the limb with the face outward, or with the face to the limb?" +</P> + +<P> +"De face was out, massa, so dat de crows could get at de eyes good, +widout any trouble." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, then, was it this eye or that through which you dropped the +beetle?" here Legrand touched each of Jupiter's eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"'Twas dis eye, massa—de lef eye—jis as you tell me," and here it was +his right eye that the negro indicated. +</P> + +<P> +"That will do—we must try it again." +</P> + +<P> +Here my friend, about whose madness I now saw, or fancied that I saw, +certain indications of method, removed the peg which marked the spot +where the beetle fell, to a spot about three inches to the westward of +its former position. Taking, now, the tape measure from the nearest +point of the trunk to the peg, as before, and continuing the extension +in a straight line to the distance of fifty feet, a spot was indicated, +removed, by several yards, from the point at which we had been digging. +</P> + +<P> +Around the new position a circle, somewhat larger than in the former +instance, was now described, and we again set to work with the spade. +I was dreadfully weary, but, scarcely understanding what had occasioned +the change in my thoughts, I felt no longer any great aversion from the +labor imposed. I had become most unaccountably interested—nay, even +excited. Perhaps there was something, amid all the extravagant +demeanor of Legrand—some air of forethought, or of deliberation, which +impressed me. I dug eagerly, and now and then caught myself actually +looking, with something that very much resembled expectation, for the +fancied treasure, the vision of which had demented my unfortunate +companion. At a period when such vagaries of thought most fully +possessed me, and when we had been at work perhaps an hour and a half, +we were again interrupted by the violent howlings of the dog. His +uneasiness, in the first instance, had been, evidently, but the result +of playfulness or caprice, but he now assumed a bitter and serious +tone. Upon Jupiter's again attempting to muzzle him, he made furious +resistance, and, leaping into the hole, tore up the mould frantically +with his claws. In a few seconds he had uncovered a mass of human +bones, forming two complete skeletons, intermingled with several +buttons of metal, and what appeared to be the dust of decayed woollen. +One or two strokes of a spade upturned the blade of a large Spanish +knife, and, as we dug further, three or four loose pieces of gold and +silver coin came to light. +</P> + +<P> +At sight of these the joy of Jupiter could scarcely be restrained, but +the countenance of his master wore an air of extreme disappointment. +He urged us, however, to continue our exertions, and the words were +hardly uttered when I stumbled and fell forward, having caught the toe +of my boot in a large ring of iron that lay half buried in the loose +earth. +</P> + +<P> +We now worked in earnest, and never did I pass ten minutes of more +intense excitement. During this interval we had fairly unearthed an +oblong chest of wood, which, from its perfect preservation and +wonderful hardness, had plainly been subjected to some mineralizing +process—perhaps that of the bi-chloride of mercury. This box was +three feet and a half long, three feet broad, and two and a half feet +deep. It was firmly secured by bands of wrought iron, riveted, and +forming a kind of open trellis-work over the whole. On each side of +the chest, near the top, were three rings of iron—six in all—by means +of which a firm hold could be obtained by six persons. Our utmost +united endeavors served only to disturb the coffer very slightly in its +bed. We at once saw the impossibility of removing so great a weight. +Luckily, the sole fastenings of the lid consisted of two sliding bolts. +These we drew back—trembling and panting with anxiety. In an instant, +a treasure of incalculable value lay gleaming before us. As the rays +of the lanterns fell within the pit, there flashed upward a glow and a +glare, from a confused heap of gold and of jewels, that absolutely +dazzled our eyes. +</P> + +<P> +I shall not pretend to describe the feelings with which I gazed. +Amazement was, of course, predominant. Legrand appeared exhausted with +excitement, and spoke very few words. Jupiter's countenance wore, for +some minutes, as deadly a pallor as it is possible, in the nature of +things, for any negro's visage to assume. He seemed +stupefied—thunderstricken. Presently he fell upon his knees in the +pit, and burying his naked arms up to the elbows in gold, let them +there remain, as if enjoying the luxury of a bath. At length, with a +deep sigh, he exclaimed, as if in a soliloquy: +</P> + +<P> +"And dis all cum ob de goole-bug! de putty goole-bug! de poor little +goole-bug, what I boosed in that sabage kind ob style! Aint you shamed +ob yourself, nigger?—answer me dat!" +</P> + +<P> +It became necessary, at last, that I should arouse both master and +valet to the expediency of removing the treasure. It was growing late, +and it behooved us to make exertion, that we might get everything +housed before daylight. It was difficult to say what should be done, +and much time was spent in deliberation—so confused were the ideas of +all. We, finally, lightened the box by removing two-thirds of its +contents, when we were enabled, with some trouble, to raise it from the +hole. The articles taken out were deposited among the brambles, and +the dog left to guard them, with strict orders from Jupiter neither, +upon any pretence, to stir from the spot, nor to open his mouth until +our return. We then hurriedly made for home with the chest; reaching +the hut in safety, but after excessive toil, at one o'clock in the +morning. Worn out as we were, it was not in human nature to do more +immediately. We rested until two, and had supper; starting for the +hills immediately afterward, armed with three stout sacks, which, by +good luck, were upon the premises. A little before four we arrived at +the pit, divided the remainder of the booty, as equally as might be, +among us, and, leaving the holes unfilled, again set out for the hut, +at which, for the second time, we deposited our golden burdens, just as +the first faint streaks of the dawn gleamed from over the tree-tops in +the East. +</P> + +<P> +We were now thoroughly broken down; but the intense excitement of the +time denied us repose. After an unquiet slumber of some three or four +hours' duration, we arose, as if by preconcert, to make examination of +our treasure. +</P> + +<P> +The chest had been full to the brim, and we spent the whole day, and +the greater part of the next night, in a scrutiny of its contents. +There had been nothing like order or arrangement. Everything had been +heaped in promiscuously. Having assorted all with care, we found +ourselves possessed of even vaster wealth than we had at first +supposed. In coin, there was rather more than four hundred and fifty +thousand dollars—estimating the value of the pieces, as accurately as +we could, by the tables of the period. There was not a particle of +silver. All was gold of antique date and of great variety—French, +Spanish, and German money, with a few English guineas, and some +counters, of which we had never seen specimens before. There were +several very large and heavy coins, so worn that we could make nothing +of their inscriptions. There was no American money. The value of the +jewels we found more difficulty in estimating. There were +diamonds—some of them exceedingly large and fine—a hundred and ten in +all, and not one of them small; eighteen rubies of remarkable +brilliancy;—three hundred and ten emeralds, all very beautiful; and +twenty-one sapphires, with an opal. These stones had all been broken +from their settings and thrown loose in the chest. The settings +themselves, which we picked out from among the other gold, appeared to +have been beaten up with hammers, as if to prevent identification. +Besides all this, there was a vast quantity of solid gold ornaments; +nearly two hundred massive finger and ear rings; rich chains—thirty of +these, if I remember; eighty-three very large and heavy crucifixes; +five gold censers of great value; a prodigious golden punch-bowl, +ornamented with richly chased vine-leaves and Bacchanalian figures; +with two sword-handles exquisitely embossed, and many other smaller +articles which I can not recollect. The weight of these valuables +exceeded three hundred and fifty pounds avoirdupois; and in this +estimate I have not included one hundred and ninety-seven superb gold +watches; three of the number being worth each five hundred dollars, if +one. Many of them were very old, and as timekeepers, valueless; the +works having suffered, more or less, from corrosion—but all were +richly jewelled and in cases of great worth. We estimated the entire +contents of the chest, that night, at a million and a half of dollars; +and upon the subsequent disposal of the trinkets and jewels (a few +being retained for our own use), it was found that we had greatly +undervalued the treasure. +</P> + +<P> +When, at length, we had concluded our examination, and the intense +excitement of the time had, in some measure, subsided, Legrand, who saw +that I was dying with impatience for a solution of this most +extraordinary riddle, entered into a full detail of all the +circumstances connected with it. +</P> + +<P> +"You remember," said he, "the night when I handed you the rough sketch +I had made of the <I>scarabaeus</I>. You recollect, also, that I became +quite vexed at you for insisting that my drawing resembled a +death's-head. When you first made this assertion I thought you were +jesting; but afterward I called to mind the peculiar spots on the back +of the insect, and admitted to myself that your remark had some little +foundation in fact. Still, the sneer at my graphic powers irritated +me—for I am considered a good artist—and, therefore, when you handed +me the scrap of parchment, I was about to crumple it up and throw it +angrily into the fire." +</P> + +<P> +"The scrap of paper, you mean," said I. +</P> + +<P> +"No; it had much of the appearance of paper, and at first I supposed it +to be such, but when I came to draw upon it, I discovered it at once to +be a piece of very thin parchment. It was quite dirty, you remember. +Well, as I was in the very act of crumpling it up, my glance fell upon +the sketch at which you had been looking, and you may imagine my +astonishment when I perceived, in fact, the figure of a death's-head +just where, it seemed to me, I had made the drawing of the beetle. For +a moment I was too much amazed to think with accuracy. I knew that my +design was very different in detail from this—although there was a +certain similarity in general outline. Presently I took a candle, and +seating myself at the other end of the room, proceeded to scrutinize +the parchment more closely. Upon turning it over, I saw my own sketch +upon the reverse, just as I had made it. My first idea, now, was mere +surprise at the really remarkable similarity of outline—at the +singular coincidence involved in the fact that, unknown to me, there +should have been a skull upon the other side of the parchment, +immediately beneath my figure of the <I>scarabaeus</I>, and that this skull, +not only in outline but in size, should so closely resemble my drawing. +I say the singularity of this coincidence absolutely stupefied me for a +time. This is the usual effect of such coincidences. The mind +struggles to establish a connection—a sequence of cause and +effect—and, being unable to do so, suffers a species of temporary +paralysis. But, when I recovered from this stupor, there dawned upon +me gradually a conviction which startled me even far more than the +coincidence. I began distinctly, positively, to remember that there +had been no drawing upon the parchment when I made my sketch of the +<I>scarabaeus</I>. I became perfectly certain of this; for I recollected +turning up first one side and then the other, in search of the cleanest +spot. Had the skull been then there, of course I could not have failed +to notice it. Here was indeed a mystery which I felt it impossible to +explain; but, even at that early moment, there seemed to glimmer, +faintly, within the most remote and secret chambers of my intellect, a +glow-worm-like conception of that truth which last night's adventure +brought to so magnificent a demonstration. I arose at once, and, +putting the parchment securely away, dismissed all further reflection +until I should be alone. +</P> + +<P> +"When you had gone, and when Jupiter was fast asleep, I betook myself +to a more methodical investigation of the affair. In the first place, +I considered the manner in which the parchment had come into my +possession. The spot where we discovered the <I>scarabaeus</I> was on the +coast of the mainland, about a mile eastward of the island, and but a +short distance above high-water mark. Upon my taking hold of it, it +gave me a sharp bite, which caused me to let it drop. Jupiter, with +his accustomed caution, before seizing the insect, which had flown +toward him, looked about him for a leaf, or something of that nature, +by which to take hold of it. It was at this moment that his eyes, and +mine also, fell upon the scrap of parchment, which I then supposed to +be paper. It was lying half buried in the sand, a corner sticking up. +Near the spot where we found it, I observed the remnants of the hull of +what appeared to have been a ship's long-boat. The wreck seemed to +have been there for a very great while; for the resemblance to boat +timbers could scarcely be traced. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, Jupiter picked up the parchment, wrapped the beetle in it, and +gave it to me. Soon afterward we turned to go home, and on the way met +Lieutenant G——. I showed him the insect, and he begged me to let him +take it to the fort. Upon my consenting, he thrust it forthwith into +his waistcoat pocket, without the parchment in which it had been +wrapped, and which I had continued to hold in my hand during his +inspection. Perhaps he dreaded my changing my mind, and thought it +best to make sure of the prize at once—you know how enthusiastic he is +on all subjects connected with Natural History. At the same time, +without being conscious of it, I must have deposited the parchment in +my own pocket. +</P> + +<P> +"You remember that when I went to the table for the purpose of making a +sketch of the beetle, I found no paper where it was usually kept. I +looked in the drawer, and found none there. I searched my pockets, +hoping to find an old letter, when my hand fell upon the parchment. I +thus detail the precise mode in which it came into my possession; for +the circumstances impressed me with peculiar force. +</P> + +<P> +"No doubt you will think me fanciful—but I had already established a +kind of connection. I had put together two links of a great chain. +There was a boat lying upon a seacoast, and not far from the boat was a +parchment—<I>not a paper</I>—with a skull depicted upon it. You will, of +course, ask 'where is the connection?' I reply that the skull, or +death's-head, is the well-known emblem of the pirate. The flag of the +death's-head is hoisted in all engagements. +</P> + +<P> +"I have said that the scrap was parchment, and not paper. Parchment is +durable—almost imperishable. Matters of little moment are rarely +consigned to parchment; since, for the mere ordinary purposes of +drawing or writing, it is not nearly so well adapted as paper. This +reflection suggested some meaning—some relevancy—in the death's-head. +I did not fail to observe, also, the <I>form</I> of the parchment. Although +one of its corners had been, by some accident, destroyed, it could be +seen that the original form was oblong. It was just such a slip, +indeed, as might have been chosen for a memorandum—for a record of +something to be long remembered and carefully preserved." +</P> + +<P> +"But," I interposed, "you say that the skill was not upon the parchment +when you made the drawing of the beetle. How then do you trace any +connection between the boat and the skull—-since this latter, +according to your own admission, must have been designed (God only +knows how or by whom) at some period subsequent to your sketching the +<I>scarabaeus</I>?" +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, hereupon turns the whole mystery; although the secret, at this +point, I had comparatively little difficulty in solving. My steps were +sure, and could afford but a single result I reasoned, for example, +thus: When I drew the <I>scarabaeus</I>, there was no skull apparent upon +the parchment When I had completed the drawing I gave it to you, and +observed you narrowly until you returned it. You, therefore, did not +design the skull, and no one else was present to do it. Then it was +not done by human agency. And nevertheless it was done. +</P> + +<P> +"At this stage of my reflections I endeavored to remember, and <I>did</I> +remember, with entire distinctness, every incident which occurred about +the period in question. The weather was chilly (oh, rare and happy +accident!), and a fire was blazing upon the hearth. I was heated with +exercise and sat near the table. You, however, had drawn a chair close +to the chimney. Just as I placed the parchment in your hand, and as +you were in the act of inspecting it, Wolf, the Newfoundland, entered, +and leaped upon your shoulders. With your left hand you caressed him +and kept him off, while your right, holding the parchment, was +permitted to fall listlessly between your knees, and in close proximity +to the fire. At one moment I thought the blaze had caught it, and was +about to caution you, but, before I could speak, you had withdrawn it, +and were engaged in its examination. When I considered all these +particulars, I doubted not for a moment that heat had been the agent in +bringing to light, upon the parchment, the skull which I saw designed +upon it. You are well aware that chemical preparations exist, and have +existed time out of mind, by means of which it is possible to write +upon either paper or vellum, so that the characters shall become +visible only when subjected to the action of fire. Zaffre, digested in +<I>aqua regia</I>, and diluted with four times its weight of water, is +sometimes employed; a green tint results. The regulus of cobalt, +dissolved in spirit of nitre, gives a red. These colors disappear at +longer or shorter intervals after the material written upon cools, but +again become apparent upon the reapplication of heat. +</P> + +<P> +"I now scrutinized the death's-head with care. Its outer edges—the +edges of the drawing nearest the edge of the vellum—were far more +<I>distinct</I> than the others. It was clear that the action of the +caloric had been imperfect or unequal. I immediately kindled a fire, +and subjected every portion of the parchment to a glowing heat. At +first, the only effect was the strengthening of the faint lines in the +skull; but, upon persevering in the experiment, there became visible, +at the corner of the slip, diagonally opposite to the spot in which the +death's-head was delineated, the figure of what I at first supposed to +be a goat. A closer scrutiny, however, satisfied me that it was +intended for a kid." +</P> + +<P> +"Ha! ha!" said I, "to be sure I have no right to laugh at you—a +million and a half of money is too serious a matter for mirth—but you +are not about to establish a third link in your chain—you will not +find any especial connection between your pirates and a goat—pirates, +you know, have nothing to do with goats; they appertain to the farming +interest." +</P> + +<P> +"But I have just said that the figure was <I>not</I> that of a goat." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, a kid, then—pretty much the same thing." +</P> + +<P> +"Pretty much, but not altogether," said Legrand. "You may have heard +of one <I>Captain</I> Kidd. I at once looked upon the figure of the animal +as a kind of punning or hieroglyphical signature. I say signature, +because, its position upon the vellum suggested this idea. The +death's-head at the corner diagonally opposite, had, in the same +manner, the air of a stamp, or seal. But I was sorely put out by the +absence of all else—of the body to my imagined instrument—of the text +for my context." +</P> + +<P> +"I presume you expected to find a letter between the stamp and the +signature." +</P> + +<P> +"Something of that kind. The fact is, I felt irresistibly impressed +with a presentiment of some vast good fortune impending. I can +scarcely say why. Perhaps, after all, it was rather a desire than an +actual belief;—but do you know that Jupiter's silly words, about the +bug being of solid gold, had a remarkable effect upon my fancy? And +then the series of accidents and coincidents—these were so <I>very</I> +extraordinary. Do you observe how mere an accident it was that these +events should have occurred upon the <I>sole</I> day of all the year in +which it has been, or may be sufficiently cool for foe, and that +without the fire, or without the intervention of the dog at the precise +moment in which he appeared, I should never have become aware of the +death's-head, and so never the possessor of the treasure?" +</P> + +<P> +"But proceed—I am all impatience." +</P> + +<P> +"Well; you have heard, of course, the many stories current—the +thousand vague rumors afloat about money buried, somewhere upon the +Atlantic coast, by Kidd and his associates. These rumors must have had +some foundation in fact. And that the rumors have existed so long and +so continuously, could have resulted, it appeared to me, only from the +circumstance of the buried treasures still <I>remaining</I> entombed. Had +Kidd concealed his plunder for a time, and afterward reclaimed it, the +rumors would scarcely have reached us in their present unvarying form. +You will observe that the stories told are all about money-seekers, not +about money-finders. Had the pirate recovered his money, there the +affair would have dropped. It seemed to me that some accident—say the +loss of a memorandum indicating its locality—had deprived him of the +means of recovering it, and that this accident had become known to his +followers, who otherwise might never have heard that the treasure had +been concealed at all, and who, busying themselves in vain, because +unguided, attempts to regain it, had given first birth, and then +universal currency, to the reports which are now so common. Have you +ever heard of any important treasure being unearthed along the coast?" +</P> + +<P> +"Never." +</P> + +<P> +"But that Kidd's accumulations were immense, is well known. I took it +for granted, therefore, that the earth still held them; and you will +scarcely be surprised when I tell you that I felt a hope, nearly +amounting to certainty, that the parchment so strangely found involved +a lost record of the place of deposit." +</P> + +<P> +"But how did you proceed?" +</P> + +<P> +"I held the vellum again to the fire, after increasing the heat, but +nothing appeared. I now thought it possible that the coating of dirt +might have something to do with the failure: so I carefully rinsed the +parchment by pouring warm water over it, and, having done this, I +placed it in a tin pan, with the skull downward, and put the pan upon a +furnace of lighted charcoal. In a few minutes, the pan having become +thoroughly heated, I removed the slip, and, to my inexpressible joy, +found it spotted, in several places, with what appeared to be figures +arranged in lines. Again I placed it in the pan, and suffered it to +remain another minute. Upon taking it off, the whole was just as you +see it now." +</P> + +<P> +Here Legrand, having reheated the parchment, submitted it to my +inspection. The following characters were rudely traced in a red tint, +between the death's-head and the goat: +</P> + +<PRE> +"53‡‡t3o5))6*;4826)4‡)4‡.;8o6*;48†8¶6o))85 +;1‡(;:‡*8†83(88)5*†;46(;88*96e*?;8)*‡(;485);5*†2:* +‡(;4956*2(5*—4)8¶8*;4o69285);)6†8)4tt;1(‡9;48o81 +;8:8‡1;48t85;4)485†5288o6*81(‡9;48;(88;4(‡ +?34;48)4‡;161;:188:188;‡?;" +</PRE> + +<P> +"But," said I, returning him the slip, "I am as much in the dark as +ever. Were all the jewels of Golconda awaiting me upon my solution of +this enigma, I am quite sure that I should be unable to earn them." +</P> + +<P> +"And yet," said Legrand, "the solution is by no means so difficult as +you might be led to imagine from the first hasty inspection of the +characters. These characters, as any one might readily guess, form a +cipher—that is to say, they convey a meaning; but then from what is +known of Kidd, I could not suppose him capable of constructing any of +the more abstruse cryptographs, I made up my mind, at once, that this +was of a simple species—such, however, as would appear, to the crude +intellect of the sailor, absolutely insoluble without the key." +</P> + +<P> +"And you really solved it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Readily; I have solved others of an abstruseness ten thousand times +greater. Circumstances, and a certain bias of mind, have led me to +take interest in such riddles, and it may well be doubted whether human +ingenuity can construct an enigma of the kind which human ingenuity may +not, by proper application, resolve. In fact, having once established +connected and legible characters, I scarcely gave a thought to the mere +difficulty of developing their import. +</P> + +<P> +"In the present case—indeed, in all cases of secret writing—the first +question regards the <I>language</I> of the cipher; for the principles of +solution, so far, especially, as the more simple ciphers are concerned, +depend upon, and are varied by, the genius of the particular idiom. In +general, there is no alternative but experiment (directed by +probabilities) of every tongue known to him who attempts the solution, +until the true one be attained. But, with the cipher now before us all +difficulty was removed by the signature. The pun upon the word 'Kidd' +is appreciable in no other language than the English. But for this +consideration I should have begun my attempts with Spanish and French, +as the tongues in which a secret of this kind would most naturally have +been written by a pirate of the Spanish, main. As it was, I assumed +the cryptograph to be English. +</P> + +<P> +"You observe there are no divisions between the words. Had there been +divisions the task would have been comparatively easy. In such cases I +should have commenced with a collation and analysis of the shorter +words, and, had a word of a single letter occurred, as is most likely +(<I>a</I> or <I>I</I>, for example), I should have considered the solution as +assured. But, there being no division, my first step was to ascertain +the predominant letters, as well as the least frequent. Counting all, +I constructed a table thus: +</P> + +<PRE> + Of the characters 8 there are 33. + ; " 26 + 4 " 19 + * " 16 + ‡) " 13 + 5 " 14 + 6 " 11 + †1 " 8 + o " 6 + 92 " 5 + :3 " 4 + ? " 3 + ¶ " 2 + --. " 1 +</PRE> + +<BR> + +<P> +"Now, in English, the letter which most frequently occurs is <I>e</I>. +Afterward, the succession runs thus: <I>a o i d h n r s t u y c f g l m w +b k p q x z</I>. E predominates so remarkably, that an individual +sentence of any length is rarely seen, in which it is not the +prevailing character. +</P> + +<P> +"Here, then, we have, in the very beginning, the groundwork for +something more than a mere guess. The general use which may be made of +the table is obvious—but, in this particular cipher, we shall only +very partially require its aid. As our predominant character is 8, we +will commence by assuming it as the <I>e</I> of the natural alphabet. To +verify the supposition, let us observe if the 8 be seen often in +couples—for <I>e</I> is doubled with great frequency in English—in such +words, for example, as 'meet,' 'fleet,' 'speed,' 'seen,' 'been,' +'agree,' etc. In the present instance we see it doubled no less than +five times, although the cryptograph is brief. +</P> + +<P> +"Let us assume 8, then, as <I>e</I>. Now, of all <I>words</I> in the language, +'the' is most usual; let us see, therefore, whether there are not +repetitions of any three characters, in the same order of collocation, +the last of them being 8. If we discover repetitions of such letters, +so arranged, they will most probably represent the word 'the.' Upon +inspection, we find no less than seven such arrangements, the +characters being ;48. We may, therefore, assume that ; represents <I>t</I>, +4 represents <I>h</I>, and 8 represents <I>e</I>—the last being now well +confirmed. Thus a great step has been taken. +</P> + +<P> +"But, having established a single word, we are enabled to establish a +vastly important point; that is to say, several commencements and +terminations of other words. Let us refer, for example, to the last +instance but one, in which the combination ;48 occurs—not far from the +end of the cipher. We know that the ; immediately ensuing is the +commencement of a word, and, of six characters succeeding this 'the,' +we are cognizant of no less than five. Let us set these characters +down, thus, by the letters we know them to represent, leaving a space +for the unknown— +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent" ALIGN="center"> +t eeth.<BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +"Here we are enabled, at once, to discard the '<I>th</I>,' as forming no +portion of the word commencing with the first <I>t</I>; since, by experiment +of the entire alphabet for a letter adapted to the vacancy, we perceive +that no word can be formed of which this <I>th</I> can be a part. We are +thus narrowed into +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent" ALIGN="center"> +t ee,<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +and, going through the alphabet, if necessary, as before, we arrive at +the word 'tree,' as the sole possible reading. We thus gain another +letter, <I>r</I>, represented by (, with the words 'the tree' in +juxtaposition. +</P> + +<P> +"Looking beyond these words, for a short distance, we again see the +combination ;48, and employ it by way of termination to what +immediately precedes. We have thus this arrangement: +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent" ALIGN="center"> +the tree;4([dagger]?34 the,<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +or, substituting the natural letters, where known, it reads thus: +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent" ALIGN="center"> +the tree thr[double dagger]?3h the.<BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +"Now, if, in the place of the unknown characters, we leave blank +spaces, or substitute dots, we read thus: +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent" ALIGN="center"> +the tree thr...h the,<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +when the word 'through' makes itself evident at once. But this +discovery gives us three new letters, <I>o</I>, <I>u</I>, and <I>g</I>, represented by +[double dagger], ?, and 3. +</P> + +<P> +"Looking now, narrowly, through the cipher for combinations of known +characters, we find, not very far from the beginning, this arrangement, +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent" ALIGN="center"> +83(88, or egree.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +which plainly, is the conclusion of the word 'degree,' and gives us +another letter, <I>d</I>, represented by [dagger]. +</P> + +<P> +"Four letters beyond the word 'degree,' we perceive the combination +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent" ALIGN="center"> +;46(;88<BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +"Translating the known characters, and representing the unknown by +dots, as before, we read thus: +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent" ALIGN="center"> +th.rtee,<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +an arrangement immediately suggestive of the word 'thirteen,' and again +furnishing us with two new characters, <I>i</I> and <I>n</I>, represented by 6 +and *. +</P> + +<P> +"Referring, now, to the beginning of the cryptograph, we find the +combination, +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent" ALIGN="center"> +53[double dagger][double dagger][dagger].<BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +"Translating as before, we obtain +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent" ALIGN="center"> +.good,<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +which assures us that the first letter is <I>A</I>, and that the first two +words are 'A good.' +</P> + +<P> +"It is now time that we arrange our key, as far as discovered, in a +tabular form, to avoid confusion. It will stand thus: +</P> + +<PRE> + 5 represents a + † " d + 8 " e + 3 " g + 4 " h + 6 " i + * " n + ‡ " o + ( " r + : " t + ? " u +</PRE> + +<BR> + +<P> +"We have, therefore, no less than eleven of the most important letters +represented, and it will be unnecessary to proceed with the details of +the solution. I have said enough to convince you that ciphers of this +nature are readily soluble, and to give you some insight into the +<I>rationale</I> of their development. But be assured that the specimen +before us appertains to the very simplest species of cryptograph. It +now only remains to give you the full translation of the characters +upon the parchment, as unriddled. Here it is: +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +"'<I>A good glass in the +bishop's hostel in the devil's seat forty-one degrees and thirteen +minutes northeast and by north main branch seventh limb east side shoot +from the left eye of the death's-head a bee-line from the tree through +the shot fifty feet out.</I>'" +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +"But," said I, "the enigma seems still in as bad a condition as ever. +How is it possible to extort a meaning from all this jargon about +'devil's seats,' 'death's-head,' and 'bishop's hotels?'" +</P> + +<P> +"I confess," replied Legrand, "that the matter still wears a serious +aspect, when regarded with a casual glance. My first endeavor was to +divide the sentence into the natural division intended by the +cryptographist." +</P> + +<P> +"You mean, to punctuate it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Something of that kind." +</P> + +<P> +"But how was it possible to effect this?" +</P> + +<P> +"I reflected that it had been a point with the writer to run his words +together without division, so as to increase the difficulty of +solution. Now, a not over-acute man, in pursuing such an object, would +be nearly certain to overdo the matter. When, in the course of his +composition, he arrived at a break in his subject which would naturally +require a pause, or a point, he would be exceedingly apt to run his +characters, at this place, more than usually close together. If you +will observe the MS., in the present instance, you will easily detect +five such cases of unusual crowding. Acting upon this hint, I made the +division thus: +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +"'<I>A good glass in the bishop's hostel in the devil's seat—forty-one +degrees and thirteen minutes—northeast and by north—main branch +seventh limb east side—shoot from the left eye of the death's-head—a +bee-line from the tree through the shot fifty feet out.</I>'" +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +"Even this division," said I, "leaves me still in the dark." +</P> + +<P> +"It left me also in the dark," replied Legrand, "for a few days; during +which I made diligent inquiry in the neighborhood of Sullivan's Island, +for any building which went by name of the 'Bishop's Hotel'; for, of +course, I dropped the obsolete word 'hostel.' Gaining no information +on the subject, I was on the point of extending my sphere of search, +and proceeding in a more systematic manner, when, one morning, it +entered into my head, quite suddenly, that this 'Bishop's Hostel' might +have some reference to an old family, of the name of Bessop, which, +time out of mind, had held possession of an ancient manor-house, about +four miles to the northward of the island. I accordingly went over to +the plantation, and reinstituted my inquiries among the older negroes +of the place. At length one of the most aged of the women said that +she had heard of such a place as Bessop's Castle, and thought that she +could guide me to it, but that it was not a castle, nor a tavern, but a +high rock. +</P> + +<P> +"I offered to pay her well for her trouble, and, after some demur, she +consented to accompany me to the spot. We found it without much +difficulty, when, dismissing her, I proceeded to examine the place. +The 'castle' consisted of an irregular assemblage of cliffs and +rocks—one of the latter being quite remarkable for its height as well +as for its insulated and artificial appearance. I clambered to its +apex, and then felt much at a loss as to what should be next done. +</P> + +<P> +"While I was busied in reflection, my eyes fell upon a narrow ledge in +the eastern face of the rock, perhaps a yard below the summit upon +which I stood. This ledge projected about eighteen inches, and was not +more than a foot wide, while a niche in the cliff just above it gave it +a rude resemblance to one of the hollow-backed chairs used by our +ancestors. I made no doubt that here was the 'devil's-seat' alluded to +in the MS., and now I seemed to grasp the full secret of the riddle. +</P> + +<P> +"The 'good glass,' I knew, could have reference to nothing but a +telescope; for the word 'glass' is rarely employed in any other sense +by seamen. Now here, I at once saw, was a telescope to be used, and a +definite point of view, admitting <I>no variation</I>, from which to use it. +Nor did I hesitate to believe that the phrases, 'forty-one degrees and +thirteen minutes,' and 'northeast and by north,' were intended as +directions for the levelling of the glass. Greatly excited by these +discoveries, I hurried home, procured a telescope, and returned to the +rock. +</P> + +<P> +"I let myself down to the ledge, and found that it was impossible to +retain a seat upon it except in one particular position. This fact +confirmed my preconceived idea. I proceeded to use the glass. Of +course, the 'forty-one degrees and thirteen minutes' could allude to +nothing but elevation above the visible horizon, since the horizontal +direction was clearly indicated by the words, 'northeast and by north.' +This latter direction I at once established by means of a +pocket-compass; then, pointing the glass as nearly at an angle of +forty-one degrees of elevation as I could do it by guess, I moved it +cautiously up or down, until my attention was arrested by a circular +rift or opening in the foliage of a large tree that overtopped its +fellows in the distance. In the centre of this rift I perceived a +white spot, but could not, at first, distinguish what it was. +Adjusting the focus of the telescope, I again looked, and now made it +out to be a human skull. +</P> + +<P> +"Upon this discovery I was so sanguine as to consider the enigma +solved; for the phrase 'main branch, seventh limb, east side,' could +refer only to the position of the skull upon the tree, while 'shoot +from the left eye of the death's-head' admitted, also, of but one +interpretation, in regard to a search for buried treasure. I perceived +that the design was to drop a bullet from the left eye of the skull, +and that a bee-line, or, in other words, a straight line, drawn from +the nearest point of the trunk through the shot (or the spot where the +bullet fell), and thence extended to a distance of fifty feet, would +indicate a definite point—and beneath this point I thought it at least +<I>possible</I> that a deposit of value lay concealed." +</P> + +<P> +"All this," I said, "is exceedingly clear, and, although ingenious, +still simple and explicit. When you left the Bishop's Hotel, what +then?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why, having carefully taken the bearings of the tree, I turned +homeward. The instant that I left 'the devil's-seat,' however, the +circular rift vanished; nor could I get a glimpse of it afterward, turn +as I would. What seems to me the chief ingenuity in this whole +business, is the fact (for repeated experiment has convinced me it <I>is</I> +a fact) that the circular opening in question is visible from no other +attainable point of view than that afforded by the narrow ledge upon +the face of the rock. +</P> + +<P> +"In this expedition to the 'Bishop's Hotel' I had been attended by +Jupiter, who had, no doubt, observed, for some weeks past, the +abstraction of my demeanor, and took especial care not to leave me +alone. But, on the next day, getting up very early, I contrived to +give him the slip, and went into the hills in search of the tree. +After much toil I found it. When I came home at night my valet +proposed to give me a flogging. With the rest of the adventure I +believe you are as well acquainted as myself." +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose," said I, "you missed the spot, in the first attempt at +digging, through Jupiter's stupidity in letting the bug fall through +the right instead of through the left eye of the skull." +</P> + +<P> +"Precisely. This mistake made a difference of about two inches and a +half in the 'shot'—that is to say, in the position of the peg nearest +the tree; and had the treasure been <I>beneath</I> the 'shot,' the error +would have been of little moment; but 'the shot,' together with the +nearest point of the tree, were merely two points for the establishment +of a line of direction; of course, the error, however trivial in the +beginning, increased as we proceeded with the line, and by the time we +had gone fifty feet threw us quite off the scent. But for my +deep-seated impressions that treasure was here somewhere actually +buried, we might have had all our labor in vain." +</P> + +<P> +"But your grandiloquence, and your conduct in swinging the beetle—how +excessively odd! I was sure you were mad. And why did you insist upon +letting fall the bug, instead of a bullet, from the skull?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why, to be frank, I felt somewhat annoyed by your evident suspicions +touching my sanity, and so resolved to punish you quietly, in my own +way, by a little bit of sober mystification. For this reason I swung +the beetle, and for this reason I let it fall from the tree. An +observation of yours about its great weight suggested the latter idea." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, I perceive; and now there is only one point which puzzles me. +What are we to make of the skeletons found in the hole?" +</P> + +<P> +"That is a question I am no more able to answer than yourself. There +seems, however, only one plausible way of accounting for them—and yet +it is dreadful to believe in such atrocity as my suggestion would +imply. It is clear that Kidd—if Kidd indeed secreted this treasure, +which I doubt not—it is clear that he must have had assistance in the +labor. But this labor concluded, he may have thought it expedient to +remove all participants in his secret. Perhaps a couple of blows with +a mattock were sufficient, while his coadjutors were busy in the pit; +perhaps it required a dozen—who shall tell?" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap04"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CORPORAL FLINT'S MURDER +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +By J. FENIMORE COOPER +</H4> + +<BR> + +<P> +Half an hour passed after the execution of the missionary before the +chiefs commenced their proceedings with the corporal. The delay was +owing to a consultation, in which The Weasel had proposed despatching a +party to the castle, to bring in the family, and thus make a common +destruction of the remaining pale-faces known to be in that part of the +Openings. Peter did not dare to oppose this scheme, himself; but he so +managed as to get Crowsfeather to do it, without bringing himself into +the foreground. The influence of the Pottawattamie prevailed, and it +was decided to torture this one captive, and to secure his scalp, +before they proceeded to work their will on the others. Ungque, who +had gained ground rapidly by his late success, was once more +commissioned to state to the captive the intentions of his captors. +</P> + +<P> +"Brother," commenced The Weasel, placing himself directly in front of +the corporal, "I am about to speak to you. A wise warrior opens his +ears, when he hears the voice of his enemy. He may learn something it +will be good for him to know. It will be good for you to know what I +am about to say. +</P> + +<P> +"Brother, you are a pale-face, and we are Injins. You wish to get our +hunting-grounds, and we wish to keep them. To keep them, it has become +necessary to take your scalp. I hope you are ready to let us have it." +</P> + +<P> +The corporal had but an indifferent knowledge of the Indian language, +but he comprehended all that was uttered on this occasion. Interest +quickened his faculties, and no part of what was said was lost. The +gentle, slow, deliberate manner in which The Weasel delivered himself, +contributed to his means of understanding. He was fortunately prepared +for what he heard, and the announcement of his approaching fate did not +disturb him to the degree of betraying weakness. This last was a +triumph in which the Indians delighted, though they ever showed the +most profound respect for such of their victims as manifested a manly +fortitude. It was necessary to reply, which the corporal did in +English, knowing that several present could interpret his words. With +a view to render this the more easy, he spoke in fragments of +sentences, and with great deliberation. +</P> + +<P> +"Injins," returned the corporal, "you surrounded me, and I have been +taken prisoner—had there been a platoon on us, you mightn't have made +out quite so well. It's no great victory for three hundred warriors to +overcome a single man. I count Parson Amen as worse than nothing, for +he looked to neither rear nor flank. If I could have half an hour's +work upon you, with only half of our late company, I think we should +lower your conceit. But that is impossible, and so you may do just +what you please with me. I ask no favors." +</P> + +<P> +Although this answer was very imperfectly translated, it awakened a +good deal of admiration. A man who could look death so closely in the +face, with so much steadiness, became a sort of hero in Indian eyes; +and with the North American savage, fortitude is a virtue not inferior +to courage. Murmurs of approbation were heard, and Ungque was +privately requested to urge the captive further, in order to see how +far present appearances were likely to be maintained. +</P> + +<P> +"Brother, I have said that we are Injins," resumed The Weasel, with an +air so humble, and a voice so meek, that a stranger might have supposed +he was consoling, instead of endeavoring to intimidate, the prisoner. +"It is true. We are nothing but poor, ignorant Injins. We can only +torment our prisoners after Injin fashion. If we were pale-faces, we +might do better. We did not torment the medicine-priest. We were +afraid he would laugh at our mistakes. He knew a great deal. We know +but little. We do as well as we know how. +</P> + +<P> +"Brother, when Injins do as well as they know how, a warrior should +forget their mistakes. We wish to torment you, in a way to prove that +you are all over man. We wish so to torment you that you will stand up +under the pain in such a way that it will make our young men think your +mother was not a squaw—that there is no woman in you. We do this for +our own honor, as well as for yours. It will be an honor to us to have +such a captive; it will be an honor to you to be such a captive. We +shall do as well as we know how. +</P> + +<P> +"Brother, it is most time to begin. The tormenting will last a long +time. We must not let the medicine-priest get too great a start on the +path to the happy hunting-grounds of your——" +</P> + +<P> +Here, a most unexpected interruption occurred, that effectually put a +stop to the eloquence of Ungque. In his desire to make an impression, +the savage approached within reach of the captive's arm, while his own +mind was intent on the words that he hoped would make the prisoner +quail. The corporal kept his eye on that of the speaker, charming him, +as it were, into a riveted gaze, in return. Watching his opportunity, +he caught the tomahawk from the Weasel's belt, and by a single blow, +felled him dead at his feet. Not content with this, the old soldier +now bounded forward, striking right and left, inflicting six or eight +wounds on others, before he could be again arrested, disarmed, and +bound. While the last was doing, Peter withdrew, unobserved. +</P> + +<P> +Many were the "hughs" and other exclamations of admiration that +succeeded this display of desperate manhood! The body of The Weasel +was removed, and interred, while the wounded withdrew to attend to +their hurts; leaving the arena to the rest assembled there. As for the +corporal, he was pretty well blown, and, in addition to being now bound +hand and foot, his recent exertions, which were terrific while they +lasted, effectually incapacitated him from making any move, so long as +he was thus exhausted and confined. +</P> + +<P> +A council was now held by the principal chiefs. Ungque had few +friends. In this, he shared the fate of most demagogues, who are +commonly despised even by those they lead and deceive. No one +regretted him much, and some were actually glad at his fate. But the +dignity of the conquerors must be vindicated. It would never do to +allow a pale-face to obtain so great an advantage, and not take a +signal vengeance for his deeds. After a long consultation, it was +determined to subject the captive to the trial by saplings, and thus +see if he could bear the torture without complaining. As some of our +readers may not understand what this fell mode of tormenting is, it may +be necessary to explain. +</P> + +<P> +There is scarcely a method of inflicting pain, that comes within the +compass of their means, that the North American Indians have not +essayed on their enemies. When the infernal ingenuity that is +exercised on these occasions fails of its effect, the captives +themselves have been heard to suggest other means of torturing that +<I>they</I> have known practised successfully by their own people. There is +often a strange strife between the tormentors and the tormented; the +one to manifest skill in inflicting pain, and the other to manifest +fortitude in enduring it. As has just been said, quite as much renown +is often acquired by the warrior, in setting all the devices of his +conquerors at defiance, while subject to their hellish attempts, as in +deeds of arms. It might be more true to say that such <I>was</I> the +practice among the Indians, than to say, at the present time, that such +<I>is</I>; for it is certain that civilization in its approaches, while it +has in many particulars even degraded the red man, has had a silent +effect in changing and mitigating many of his fiercer customs—this, +perhaps, among the rest. It is probable that the more distant tribes +still resort to all these ancient usages; but it is both hoped and +believed that those nearer to the whites do not. +</P> + +<P> +The "torture by saplings" is one of those modes of inflicting pain that +would naturally suggest themselves to savages. Young trees that do not +stand far apart are trimmed of their branches, and brought nearer to +each other by bending their bodies; the victim is then attached to both +trunks, sometimes by his extended arms, at others by his legs, or by +whatever part of the frame cruelty can suggest, when the saplings are +released, and permitted to resume their upright positions. Of course, +the sufferer is lifted from the earth, and hangs suspended by his +limbs, with a strain on them that soon produces the most intense +anguish. The celebrated punishment of the "knout" partakes a good deal +of this same character of suffering. Bough of the Oak now approached +the corporal, to let him know how high an honor was in reserve for him. +</P> + +<P> +"Brother," said this ambitious orator, "you are a brave warrior. You +have done well. Not only have you killed one of our chiefs, but you +have wounded several of our young men. No one but a brave could have +done this. You have forced us to bind you, lest you might kill some +more. It is not often that captives do this. Your courage has caused +us to consult <I>how</I> we might best torture you, in a way most to +manifest your manhood. After talking together, the chiefs have decided +that a man of your firmness ought to be hung between two young trees. +We have found the trees, and have cut off their branches. You can see +them. If they were a little larger their force would be greater, and +they would give you more pain—would be more worthy of you; but these +are the largest saplings we could find. Had there been any larger, we +would have let you have them. We wish to do you honor, for you are a +bold warrior, and worthy to be well tormented. +</P> + +<P> +"Brother, look at these saplings! They are tall and straight. When +they are bent by many hands, they will come together. Take away the +hands, and they will become straight again. Your arms must then keep +them together. We wish we had some pappooses here, that they might +shoot arrows into your flesh. That would help much to torment you. +You cannot have this honor, for we have no pappooses. We are afraid to +let our young men shoot arrows into your flesh. They are strong, and +might kill you. We wish you to die between the saplings, as is your +right, being so great a brave. +</P> + +<P> +"Brother, we think much better of you since you killed The Weasel, and +hurt our young men. If all your warriors at Chicago had been as bold +as you, Black-Bird would not have taken that fort. You would have +saved many scalps. This encourages us. It makes us think the Great +Spirit means to help us, and that we shall kill all the pale-faces. +When we get further into your settlements, we do not expect to meet +many such braves as you. They tell us we shall then find men who will +run, and screech like women. It will not be a pleasure to torment such +men. We had rather torment a bold warrior, like you, who makes us +admire him for his manliness. We love our squaws, but not in the +war-path. They are best in the lodges; here we want nothing but men. +You are a man—a brave—we honor you. We think, notwithstanding, we +shall yet make you weak. It will not be easy, yet we hope to do it. +We shall try. We may not think quite so well of you, if we do it; but +we shall always call you a brave. A man is not a stone. We can all +feel, and when we have done all that is in our power, no one can do +more. It is so with Injins; we think it must be so with pale-faces. +We mean to try and see how it is." +</P> + +<P> +The corporal understood very little of this harangue, though he +perfectly comprehended the preparations of the saplings, and Bough of +the Oak's allusions to <I>them</I>. He was in a cold sweat at the thought, +for resolute as he was, he foresaw sufferings that human fortitude +could hardly endure. In this state of the case, and in the frame of +mind he was in, he had recourse to an expedient of which he had often +heard, and which he thought might now be practised to some advantage. +It was to open upon the savages with abuse, and to exasperate them, by +taunts and sarcasm, to such a degree as might induce some of the weaker +members of the tribe to dispatch him on the spot. As the corporal, +with the perspective of the saplings before his eyes, manifested a good +deal of ingenuity on this occasion, we shall record some of his efforts. +</P> + +<P> +"D'ye call yourselves chiefs and warriors?" he began, upon a pretty +high key. "I call ye squaws! There is not a man among ye. Dogs would +be the best name. You are poor Injins. A long time ago, the +pale-faces came here in two or three little canoes. They were but a +handful, and you were plentier than prairie wolves. Your bark could be +heard throughout the land. Well, what did this handful of pale-faces? +It drove your fathers before them, until they got all the best of the +hunting-grounds. Not an Injin of you all, now, ever get down on the +shores of the great salt lake, unless to sell brooms and baskets, and +then he goes sneaking like a wolf after a sheep. You have forgotten +how clams and oysters taste. Your fathers had as many of them as they +could eat; but not one of you ever tasted them. The pale-faces eat +them all. If an Injun asked for one, they would throw the shell at his +head, and call him a dog. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you think that my chiefs would hang one of you between two such +miserable saplings as these? No! They would scorn to practice such +pitiful torture. They would bring the tops of two tall pines together, +trees a hundred and fifty feet high, and put their prisoner on the +topmost boughs, for the crows and ravens to pick his eyes out. But you +are miserable Injins! You know nothing. If you know'd any better, +would you act such poor torment ag'in' a great brave? I spit upon ye, +and call you squaws. The pale-faces have made women of ye. They have +taken out your hearts, and put pieces of dog's flesh in their places." +</P> + +<P> +Here the corporal, who delivered himself with an animation suited to +his language, was obliged to pause, literally for want of breath. +Singular as it may seem, this tirade excited great admiration among the +savages. It is true, that very few understood what was said; perhaps +no one understood <I>all</I>, but the manner was thought to be admirable. +When some of the language was interpreted, a deep but smothered +resentment was felt; more especially at the taunts touching the manner +in which the whites had overcome the red men. Truth is hard to be +borne, and the individual, or people, who will treat a thousand +injurious lies with contempt, feel all their ire aroused at one +reproach that has its foundation in fact. Nevertheless, the anger that +the corporal's words did, in truth, awaken, was successfully repressed, +and he had the disappointment of seeing that his life was spared for +the torture. +</P> + +<P> +"Brother," said Bough of the Oak, again placing himself before the +captive, "you have a stout heart. It is made of stone, and not of +flesh. If our hearts be of dog's meat, yours is of stone. What you +say is true. The pale-faces <I>did</I> come at first in two or three +canoes, and there were but few of them. We are ashamed, for it is +true. A few pale-faces drove toward the setting sun many Injins. But +we cannot be driven any further. We mean to stop here, and begin to +take all the scalps we can. A great chief, who belongs to no one +tribe, but belongs to all tribes, who speaks all tongues, has been sent +by the Great Spirit to arouse us. He has done it. You know him. He +came from the head of the lake with you, and kept his eye on your +scalp. He has meant to take it from the first. He waited only for an +opportunity. That opportunity has come, and we now mean to do as he +has told us we ought to do. This is right. Squaws are in a hurry; +warriors know how to wait. We would kill you at once, and hang your +scalp on our pole, but it would not be right. We wish to do what is +right. If we <I>are</I> poor Injins, and know but little, we know what is +right. It is right to torment so great a brave, and we mean to do it. +It is only just to you to do so. An old warrior who has seen so many +enemies, and who has so big a heart, ought not to be knocked in the +head like a pappoose or a squaw. It is his right to be tormented. We +are getting ready, and shall soon begin. If my brother can tell us a +new way of tormenting, we are willing to try it. Should we not make +out as well as pale-faces, my brother will remember who we are. We +mean to do our best, and we hope to make his heart soft. If we do +this, great will be our honor. Should we not do it, we cannot help it. +We shall try." +</P> + +<P> +It was now the corporal's turn to put in a rebutter. This he did +without any failure in will or performance. By this time he was so +well warmed as to think or care very little about the saplings, and to +overlook the pain they might occasion. +</P> + +<P> +"Dogs can do little but bark; 'specially Injin dogs," he said. "Injins +themselves are little better than their own dogs. They can bark, but +they don't know how to bite. You have many great chiefs here. Some +are panthers, and some bears, and some buffaloes; but where are your +weasels? I have fit you now these twenty years, and never have I known +ye to stand up to the baggonet. It's not Injin natur' to do <I>that</I>." +</P> + +<P> +Here the corporal, without knowing it, made some such reproach to the +aboriginal warriors of America as the English used to throw into the +teeth of ourselves—that of not standing up to a weapon which neither +party possessed. It was matter of great triumph that the Americans +would not stand the charge of the bayonet at the renowned fight on +Breed's, for instance, when it is well known that not one man in five +among the colonists had any such weapon at all to "stand up" with. A +different story was told at Guildford, and Stony Point, and Eutaw, and +Bennington, and Bemis' Heights, and fifty other places that might be +named, after the troops were furnished with bayonets. <I>Then</I> it was +found that the Americans could use them as well as others, and so might +it have proved with the red men, though their discipline, or mode of +fighting, scarce admitted of such systematic charges. All this, +however, the corporal overlooked, much as if he were a regular +historian who was writing to make out a case. +</P> + +<P> +"Harkee, brother, since you <I>will</I> call me brother; though, Heaven be +praised, not a drop of nigger or Injin blood runs in <I>my</I> veins," +resumed the corporal. "Harken, friend redskin, answer me one thing. +Did you ever hear of such a man as Mad Anthony? He was the tickler for +your infernal tribes! You pulled no saplings together for him. He put +you up with 'the long-knives and leather-stockings,' and you outrun his +fleetest horses. I was with him, and saw more naked backs than naked +faces among your people, that day. Your Great Bear got a rap on his +nose that sent him to his village yelping like a cur." +</P> + +<P> +Again was the corporal compelled to stop to take breath. The allusion +to Wayne, and his defeat of the Indians, excited so much ire, that +several hands grasped knives and tomahawks, and one arrow was actually +drawn nearly to the head; but the frown of Bear's Meat prevented any +outbreak, or actual violence. It was deemed prudent, however, to put +an end to this scene, lest the straightforward corporal, who laid it on +heavily, and who had so much to say about Indian defeats, might +actually succeed in touching some festering wound that would bring him +to his death at once. It was, accordingly, determined to proceed with +the torture of the saplings without further delay. +</P> + +<P> +The corporal was removed accordingly, and placed between the two bended +trees, which were kept together by withes around their tops. An arm of +the captive was bound tightly at the wrist to the top of each tree, so +that his limbs were to act as the only tie between the saplings, as +soon as the withes should be cut. The Indians now worked in silence, +and the matter was getting to be much too serious for the corporal to +indulge in any more words. The cold sweat returned, and many an +anxious glance was cast by the veteran on the fell preparations. Still +he maintained appearances, and when all was ready, not a man there was +aware of the agony of dread which prevailed in the breast of the +victim. It was not death that he feared as much as suffering. A few +minutes, the corporal well knew, would make the pain intolerable, while +he saw no hope of putting a speedy end to his existence. A man might +live hours in such a situation. Then it was that the teachings of +childhood were revived in the bosom of this hardened man, and he +remembered the Being that died for <I>him</I>, in common with the rest of +the human race, on the tree. The seeming similarity of his own +execution struck his imagination, and brought a tardy but faint +recollection of those lessons that had lost most of their efficacy in +the wickedness and impiety of camps. His soul struggled for relief in +that direction, but the present scene was too absorbing to admit of its +lifting itself so far above his humanity. +</P> + +<P> +"Warrior of the pale-faces," said Bough of the Oak, "we are going to +cut the withe. You will then be where a brave man will want all his +courage. If you are firm, we will do you honor; if you faint and +screech, our young men will laugh at you. This is the way with Injins. +They honor braves; they point the finger at cowards." +</P> + +<P> +Here a sign was made by Bear's Meat, and a warrior raised the tomahawk +that was to separate the fastenings. His hand was in the very act of +descending, when the crack of a rifle was heard, and a little smoke +rose out of the thicket, near the spot where the bee-hunter and the +corporal, himself, had remained so long hid, on the occasion of the +council first held in that place. The tomahawk fell, however, the +withes were parted, and up flew the saplings, with a violence that +threatened to tear the arms of the victim out of their sockets. +</P> + +<P> +The Indians listened, expecting the screeches and groans;—they gazed, +hoping to witness the writhings of their captive. But they were +disappointed. There hung the body, its arms distended, still holding +the tops of the saplings bowed, but not a sign of life was seen. A +small line of blood trickled down the forehead, and above it was the +nearly imperceptible hole made by the passage of a bullet. The head +itself had fallen forward, and a little on one shoulder. The corporal +had escaped the torments reserved for him, by this friendly blow. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap05"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +UNCLE JIM AND UNCLE BILLY +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +By BRET HARTE +</H4> + +<P CLASS="intro"> +From "Stories in Light and Shadow." Copyright 1888 and 1889 by Bret +Harte. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +They were partners. The avuncular title was bestowed on them by Cedar +Camp, possibly in recognition of a certain matured good humor, quite +distinct from the spasmodic exuberant spirits of its other members, and +possibly from what, to its youthful sense, seemed their advanced +ages—which must have been at least forty! They had also set habits +even in their improvidence, lost incalculable and unpayable sums to +each other over euchre regularly every evening, and inspected their +sluice-boxes punctually every Saturday for repairs—which they never +made. They even got to resemble each other, after the fashion of old +married couples, or, rather, as in matrimonial partnerships, were +subject to the domination of the stronger character; although in their +case it is to be feared that it was the feminine Uncle +Billy—enthusiastic, imaginative, and loquacious—who swayed the +masculine, steady-going, and practical Uncle Jim. They had lived in +the camp since its foundation in 1849; there seemed to be no reason why +they should not remain there until its inevitable evolution into a +mining-town. The younger members might leave through restless ambition +or a desire for change or novelty; they were subject to no such +trifling mutation. Yet Cedar Camp was surprised one day to hear that +Uncle Billy was going away. +</P> + +<P> +The rain was softly falling on the bark thatch of the cabin with a +muffled murmur, like a sound heard through sleep. The southwest trades +were warm even at that altitude, as the open door testified, although a +fire of pine bark was flickering on the adobe hearth and striking out +answering fires from the freshly scoured culinary utensils on the rude +sideboard, which Uncle Jim had cleaned that morning with his usual +serious persistency. Their best clothes, which were interchangeable +and worn alternately by each other on festal occasions, hung on the +walls, which were covered with a coarse sailcloth canvas instead of +lath-and-plaster, and were diversified by pictures from illustrated +papers and stains from the exterior weather. Two "bunks," like ships' +berths,—an upper and lower one,—occupied the gable-end of this single +apartment, and on beds of coarse sacking, filled with dry moss, were +carefully rolled their respective blankets and pillows. They were the +only articles not used in common, and whose individuality was respected. +</P> + +<P> +Uncle Jim, who had been sitting before the fire, rose as the square +bulk of his partner appeared at the doorway with an armful of wood for +the evening stove. By that sign he knew it was nine o'clock: for the +last six years Uncle Billy had regularly brought in the wood at that +hour, and Uncle Jim had as regularly closed the door after him, and set +out their single table, containing a greasy pack of cards taken from +its drawer, a bottle of whiskey, and two tin drinking-cups. To this +was added a ragged memorandum-book and a stick of pencil. The two men +drew their stools to the table. +</P> + +<P> +"Hol' on a minit," said Uncle Billy. +</P> + +<P> +His partner laid down the cards as Uncle Billy extracted from his +pocket a pill-box, and, opening it, gravely took a pill. This was +clearly an innovation on their regular proceedings, for Uncle Billy was +always in perfect health. +</P> + +<P> +"What's this for?" asked Uncle Jim half scornfully. +</P> + +<P> +"Agin ager." +</P> + +<P> +"You ain't got no ager," said Uncle Jim, with the assurance of intimate +cognizance of his partner's physical condition. +</P> + +<P> +"But it's a pow'ful preventive! Quinine! Saw this box at Riley's +store, and laid out a quarter on it. We kin keep it here, comfortable, +for evenings. It's mighty soothin' arter a man's done a hard day's +work on the river-bar. Take one." +</P> + +<P> +Uncle Jim gravely took a pill and swallowed it, and handed the box back +to his partner. +</P> + +<P> +"We'll leave it on the table, sociable like, in case any of the boys +come in," said Uncle Billy, taking up the cards. "Well. How de we +stand?" +</P> + +<P> +Uncle Jim consulted the memorandum-book. "You were owin' me sixty-two +thousand dollars on the last game, and the limit's seventy-five +thousand!" +</P> + +<P> +"Je whillikins!" ejaculated Uncle Billy. "Let me see." +</P> + +<P> +He examined the book, feebly attempted to challenge the additions, but +with no effect on the total. "We oughter hev made the limit a hundred +thousand," he said seriously; "seventy-five thousand is only triflin' +in a game like ours. And you've set down my claim at Angel's?" he +continued. +</P> + +<P> +"I allowed you ten thousand dollars for that," said Uncle Jim, with +equal gravity, "and it's a fancy price too." +</P> + +<P> +The claim in question being an unprospected hillside ten miles distant, +which Uncle Jim had never seen, and Uncle Billy had not visited for +years, the statement was probably true; nevertheless, Uncle Billy +retorted:— +</P> + +<P> +"Ye kin never tell how these things will pan out. Why, only this +mornin' I was taking a turn round Shot Up Hill, that ye know is just +rotten with quartz and gold, and I couldn't help thinkin' how much it +was like my ole claim at Angel's. I must take a day off to go on there +and strike a pick in it, if only for luck." +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly he paused and said, "Strange, ain't it, you should speak of it +to-night? Now I call that queer!" +</P> + +<P> +He laid down his cards and gazed mysteriously at his companion. Uncle +Jim knew perfectly that Uncle Billy had regularly once a week for many +years declared his final determination to go over to Angel's and +prospect his claim, yet nevertheless he half responded to his partner's +suggestion of mystery, and a look of fatuous wonder crept into his +eyes. But he contented himself by saying cautiously, "You spoke of it +first." +</P> + +<P> +"That's the more sing'lar," said Uncle Billy confidently. "And I've +been thinking about it, and kinder seeing myself thar all day. It's +mighty queer!" He got up and began to rummage among some torn and +coverless books in the corner. +</P> + +<P> +"Where's that 'Dream Book' gone to?" +</P> + +<P> +"The Carson boys borrowed it," replied Uncle Jim. +</P> + +<P> +"Anyhow, yours wasn't no dream—only a kind o' vision, and the book +don't take no stock in visions." Nevertheless, he watched his partner +with some sympathy, and added, "That reminds me that I had a dream the +other night of being in 'Frisco at a small hotel, with heaps o' money, +and all the time being sort o' scared and bewildered over it." +</P> + +<P> +"No?" queried his partner eagerly yet reproachfully. "You never let on +anything about it to <I>me</I>! It's mighty queer you havin' these strange +feelin's, for I've had 'em myself. And only to-night, comin' up from +the spring, I saw two crows hopping in the trail, and I says, 'If I see +another, it's luck, sure!' And you'll think I'm lyin', but when I went +to the wood-pile just now there was the <I>third</I> one sittin' up on a log +as plain as I see you. Tell 'e what folks ken laugh—but that's just +what Jim Filgee saw the night before he made the big strike!" +</P> + +<P> +They were both smiling, yet with an underlying credulity and +seriousness as singularly pathetic as it seemed incongruous to their +years and intelligence. Small wonder, however, that in their +occupation and environment—living daily in an atmosphere of hope, +expectation, and chance, looking forward each morning to the blind +stroke of a pick that might bring fortune—they should see signs in +nature and hear mystic voices in the trackless woods that surrounded +them. Still less strange that they were peculiarly susceptible to the +more recognized diversions of chance, and were gamblers on the turning +of a card who trusted to the revelation of a shovelful of upturned +earth. +</P> + +<P> +It was quite natural, therefore, that they should return from their +abstract form of divination to the table and their cards. But they +were scarcely seated before they heard a crackling step in the brush +outside, and the free latch of their door was lifted. A younger member +of the camp entered. He uttered a peevish "Halloo!" which might have +passed for a greeting, or might have been a slight protest at finding +the door closed, drew the stool from which Uncle Jim had just risen +before the fire, shook his wet clothes like a Newfoundland dog, and sat +down. Yet he was by no means churlish nor coarse-looking, and this act +was rather one of easy-going, selfish, youthful familiarity than of +rudeness. The cabin of Uncles Billy and Jim was considered a public +right or "common" of the camp. Conferences between individual miners +were appointed there. "I'll meet you at Uncle Billy's" was a common +tryst. Added to this was a tacit claim upon the partners' arbitrative +powers, or the equal right to request them to step outside if the +interviews were of a private nature. Yet there was never any objection +on the part of the partners, and to-night there was not a shadow of +resentment of this intrusion in the patient, good-humored, tolerant +eyes of Uncles Jim and Billy as they gazed at their guest. Perhaps +there was a slight gleam of relief in Uncle Jim's when he found that +the guest was unaccompanied by any one, and that it was not a tryst. +It would have been unpleasant for the two partners to have stayed out +in the rain while their guests were exchanging private confidences in +their cabin. While there might have been no limit to their good will, +there might have been some to their capacity for exposure. +</P> + +<P> +Uncle Jim drew a huge log from beside the hearth and sat on the driest +end of it, while their guest occupied the stool. The young man, +without turning away from his discontented, peevish brooding over the +fire, vaguely reached backward for the whiskey-bottle and Uncle Billy's +tin cup, to which he was assisted by the latter's hospitable hand. But +on setting down the cup his eye caught sight of the pill-box. +</P> + +<P> +"Wot's that?" he said, with gloomy scorn. "Rat poison?" +</P> + +<P> +"Quinine pills—agin ager," said Uncle Jim. "The newest thing out. +Keeps out damp like Injin-rubber! Take one to follow yer whiskey. Me +and Uncle Billy wouldn't think o' settin' down, quiet like, in the +evening arter work, without 'em. Take one—ye'r welcome! We keep 'em +out here for the boys." +</P> + +<P> +Accustomed as the partners were to adopt and wear each other's opinions +before folks, as they did each other's clothing, Uncle Billy was, +nevertheless, astonished and delighted at Uncle Jim's enthusiasm over +<I>his</I> pills. The guest took one and swallowed it. +</P> + +<P> +"Mighty bitter!" he said, glancing at his hosts with the quick +Californian suspicion of some practical joke. But the honest faces of +the partners reassured him. +</P> + +<P> +"That bitterness ye taste," said Uncle Jim quickly, "is whar the +thing's gittin' in its work. Sorter sickenin' the malaria—and kinder +water-proofin' the insides all to onct and at the same lick! Don't yer +see? Put another in yer vest pocket; you'll be cryin' for 'em like a +child afore ye get home. Thar! Well, how's things agoin' on your +claim, Dick? Boomin', eh?" +</P> + +<P> +The guest raised his head and turned it sufficiently to fling his +answer back over his shoulder at his hosts. "I don't know what <I>you'd</I> +call 'boomin','" he said gloomily; "I suppose you two men sitting here +comfortably by the fire, without caring whether school keeps or not, +would call two feet of backwater over one's claim 'boomin';' I reckon +<I>you'd</I> consider a hundred and fifty feet of sluicing carried away, and +drifting to thunder down the South Fork, something in the way of +advertising to your old camp! I suppose <I>you'd</I> think it was an +inducement to investors! I shouldn't wonder," he added still more +gloomily, as a sudden dash of rain down the wide-throated chimney +dropped in his tin cup—"and it would be just like you two chaps, +sittin' there gormandizing over your quinine—if yer said this rain +that's lasted three weeks was something to be proud of!" +</P> + +<P> +It was the cheerful and the satisfying custom of the rest of the camp, +for no reason whatever, to hold Uncle Jim and Uncle Billy responsible +for its present location, its vicissitudes, the weather, or any +convulsion of nature; and it was equally the partners' habit, for no +reason whatever, to accept these animadversions and apologize. +</P> + +<P> +"It's a rain that's soft and mellowin'," said Uncle Billy gently, "and +supplin' to the sinews and muscles. Did ye ever notice, +Jim"—ostentatiously to his partner—"did ye ever notice that you get +inter a kind o' sweaty lather workin' in it? Sorter openin' to the +pores!" +</P> + +<P> +"Fetches 'em every time," said Uncle Billy. "Better nor fancy soap." +</P> + +<P> +Their guest laughed bitterly. "Well, I'm going to leave it to you. I +reckon to cut the whole concern to-morrow, and 'lite' out for something +new. It can't be worse than this." +</P> + +<P> +The two partners looked grieved, albeit they were accustomed to these +outbursts. Everybody who thought of going away from Cedar Camp used it +first as a threat to these patient men, after the fashion of runaway +nephews, or made an exemplary scene of their going. +</P> + +<P> +"Better think twice afore ye go," said Uncle Billy. +</P> + +<P> +"I've seen worse weather afore ye came," said Uncle Jim slowly. "Water +all over the Bar; the mud so deep ye couldn't get to Angel's for a sack +o' flour, and we had to grub on pine nuts and jackass-rabbits. And +yet—we stuck by the camp, and here we are!" +</P> + +<P> +The mild answer apparently goaded their guest to fury. He rose from +his seat, threw back his long dripping hair from his handsome but +querulous face, and scattered a few drops on the partners. "Yes, +that's just it. That's what gets me! Here you stick, and here you +are! And here you'll stick and rust until you starve or drown! Here +you are,—two men who ought to be out in the world, playing your part +as grown men,—-stuck here like children 'playing house' in the woods; +playing work in your wretched mud-pie ditches, and content. Two men +not so old that you mightn't be taking your part in the fun of the +world, going to balls or theatres, or paying attention to girls, and +yet old enough to have married and have your families around you, +content to stay in this God-forsaken place; old bachelors, pigging +together like poor-house paupers. That's what gets me! Say you like +<I>it</I>? Say you expect by hanging on to make a strike—and what does +that amount to? What are <I>your</I> chances? How many of us have made, or +are making, more than grub wages? Say you're willing to share and +share alike as you do—have you got enough for two? Aren't you +actually living off each other? Aren't you grinding each other down, +choking each other's struggles, as you sink together deeper and deeper +in the mud of this cussed camp? And while you're doing this, aren't +you, by your age and position here, holding out hopes to others that +you know cannot be fulfilled?" +</P> + +<P> +Accustomed as they were to the half-querulous, half-humorous, but +always extravagant, criticism of the others, there was something so new +in this arraignment of themselves that the partners for a moment sat +silent. There was a slight flush on Uncle Billy's cheek, there was a +slight paleness on Uncle Jim's. He was the first to reply. But he did +so with a certain dignity which neither his partner nor their guest had +ever seen on his face before. +</P> + +<P> +"As it's <I>our</I> fire that's warmed ye up like this, Dick Bullen," he +said, slowly rising, with his hand resting on Uncle Billy's shoulder, +"and as it's <I>our</I> whiskey that's loosened your tongue, I reckon we +must put up with what ye'r' saying, just as we've managed to put up +with our own way o' living, and not quo'll with ye under our own roof." +</P> + +<P> +The young fellow saw the change in Uncle Jim's face and quickly +extended his hand, with an apologetic backward shake of his long hair. +"Hang it all, old man," he said, with a laugh of mingled contrition and +amusement, "you mustn't mind what I said just now. I've been so +worried thinking of things about <I>myself</I> and, maybe, a little about +you, that I quite forgot I hadn't a call to preach to anybody—least of +all to you. So we part friends, Uncle Jim, and you too, Uncle Billy, +and you'll forget what I said. In fact, I don't know why I spoke at +all—only I was passing your claim just now, and wondering how much +longer your old sluice-boxes would hold out, and where in thunder you'd +get others when they caved in! I reckon that sent me off. That's all, +old chap!" +</P> + +<P> +Uncle Billy's face broke into a beaming smile of relief, and it was his +hand that first grasped his guest's; Uncle Jim quickly followed with as +honest a pressure, but with eyes that did not seem to be looking at +Bullen, though all trace of resentment had died out of them. He walked +to the door with him, again shook hands, but remained looking out in +the darkness some time after Dick Bullen's tangled hair and broad +shoulders had disappeared. +</P> + +<P> +Meantime, Uncle Billy had resumed his seat and was chuckling and +reminiscent as he cleaned out his pipe. +</P> + +<P> +"Kinder reminds me of Jo Sharp, when he was cleaned out at poker by his +own partners in his own cabin, comin' up here and bedevilin' us about +it! What was it you lint him?" +</P> + +<P> +But Uncle Jim did not reply; and Uncle Billy, taking up the cards, +began to shuffle them, smiling vaguely, yet at the same time somewhat +painfully. "Arter all, Dick was mighty cut up about what he said, and +I felt kinder sorry for him. And, you know, I rather cotton to a man +that speaks his mind. Sorter clears him out, you know, of all the +slumgullion that's in him. It's just like washin' out a pan o' +prospecting: you pour in the water, and keep slushing it round and +round, and out comes first the mud and dirt, and then the gravel, and +then the black sand, and then—it's all out, and there's a speck o' +gold glistenin' at the bottom!" +</P> + +<P> +"Then you think there <I>was</I> suthin' in what he said?" said Uncle Jim, +facing about slowly. +</P> + +<P> +An odd tone in his voice made Uncle Billy look up. "No," he said +quickly, shying with the instinct of an easy pleasure-loving nature +from a possible grave situation. "No, I don't think he ever got the +color! But wot are ye moonin' about for? Ain't ye goin' to play? +It's mor' 'n half past nine now." +</P> + +<P> +Thus adjured, Uncle Jim moved up to the table and sat down, while Uncle +Billy dealt the cards, turning up the Jack or right bower—but +<I>without</I> that exclamation of delight which always accompanied his good +fortune, nor did Uncle Jim respond with the usual corresponding +simulation of deep disgust. Such a circumstance had not occurred +before in the history of their partnership. They both played in +silence—a silence only interrupted by a larger splash of raindrops +down the chimney. +</P> + +<P> +"We orter put a couple of stones on the chimney-top, edgewise, like +Jack Curtis does. It keeps out the rain without interferin' with the +draft," said Uncle Billy musingly. +</P> + +<P> +"What's the use if"— +</P> + +<P> +"If what?" said Uncle Billy quietly. +</P> + +<P> +"If we don't make it broader," said Uncle Jim half wearily. +</P> + +<P> +They both stared at the chimney, but Uncle Jim's eye followed the wall +around to the bunks. There were many discolorations on the canvas, and +a picture of the Goddess of Liberty from an illustrated paper had +broken out in a kind of damp, measly eruption. "I'll stick that funny +handbill of the 'Washin' Soda' I got at the grocery store the other day +right over the Liberty gal. It's a mighty perty woman washin' with +short sleeves," said Uncle Billy. "That's the comfort of them picters, +you kin always get somethin' new, and it adds thickness to the wall." +</P> + +<P> +Uncle Jim went back to the cards in silence. After a moment he rose +again, and hung his overcoat against the door. +</P> + +<P> +"Wind's comin' in," he said briefly. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," said Uncle Billy cheerfully, "but it wouldn't seem nat'ral if +there wasn't that crack in the door to let the sunlight in o' mornin's. +Makes a kind o' sundial, you know. When the streak o' light's in that +corner, I says 'six o'clock!' when it's across the chimney I say +'seven!' and so 'tis!" +</P> + +<P> +It certainly had grown chilly, and the wind was rising. The candle +guttered and flickered; the embers on the hearth brightened +occasionally, as if trying to dispel the gathering shadows, but always +ineffectually. The game was frequently interrupted by the necessity of +stirring the fire. After an interval of gloom, in which each partner +successively drew the candle to his side to examine his cards, Uncle +Jim said:— +</P> + +<P> +"Say?" +</P> + +<P> +"Well!" responded Uncle Billy. +</P> + +<P> +"Are you sure you saw that third crow on the wood-pile?" +</P> + +<P> +"Sure as I see you now—and a darned sight plainer. Why?" +</P> + +<P> +"Nothin', I was just thinkin'. Look here! How do we stand now?" +</P> + +<P> +Uncle Billy was still losing. "Nevertheless," he said cheerfully, "I'm +owin' you a matter of sixty thousand dollars." +</P> + +<P> +Uncle Jim examined the book abstractedly. "Suppose," he said slowly, +but without looking at his partner, "suppose, as it's gettin' late now, +we play for my half share of the claim agin the limit—seventy +thousand—to square up." +</P> + +<P> +"Your half share!" repeated Uncle Billy, with amused incredulity. +</P> + +<P> +"My half share of the claim,—of this yer house, you know,—one-half of +all that Dick Bullen calls our rotten starvation property," reiterated +Uncle Jim, with a half smile. +</P> + +<P> +Uncle Billy laughed. It was a novel idea; it was, of course, "all in +the air," like the rest of their game, yet even then he had an odd +feeling that he would have liked Dick Bullen to have known it. "Wade +in, old pard," he said. "I'm on it." +</P> + +<P> +Uncle Jim lit another candle to reinforce the fading light, and the +deal fell to Uncle Billy. He turned up Jack of clubs. He also turned +a little redder as he took up his cards, looked at them, and glanced +hastily at his partner. "It's no use playing," he said. "Look here!" +He laid down his cards on the table. They were the ace, king and queen +of clubs, and Jack of spades,—or left bower,—which, with the +turned-up Jack of clubs,—or right bower,—comprised all the winning +cards! +</P> + +<P> +"By jingo! If we'd been playin' fourhanded, say you an' me agin some +other ducks, we'd have made 'four' in that deal, and h'isted some +money—eh?" and his eyes sparkled. Uncle Jim, also, had a slight +tremulous light in his own. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh no! I didn't see no three crows this afternoon," added Uncle Billy +gleefully, as his partner, in turn, began to shuffle the cards with +laborious and conscientious exactitude. Then dealing, he turned up a +heart for trumps. Uncle Billy took up his cards one by one, but when +he had finished his face had become as pale as it had been red before. +"What's the matter?" said Uncle Jim quickly, his own face growing white. +</P> + +<P> +Uncle Billy slowly and with breathless awe laid down his cards, face up +on the table. It was exactly the same sequence <I>in hearts</I>, with the +knave of diamonds added. He could again take every trick. +</P> + +<P> +They stared at each other with vacant faces and a half-drawn smile of +fear. They could hear the wind moaning in the trees beyond; there was +a sudden rattling at the door. Uncle Billy started to his feet, but +Uncle Jim caught his arm. "<I>Don't leave the cards</I>! It's only the +wind; sit down," he said in a low awe-hushed voice, "it's your deal; +you were two before, and two now, that makes you four; you've only one +point to make to win the game. Go on." +</P> + +<P> +They both poured out a cup of whiskey, smiling vaguely, yet with a +certain terror in their eyes. Their hands were cold; the cards slipped +from Uncle Billy's benumbed fingers; when he had shuffled them he +passed them to his partner to shuffle them also, but did not speak. +When Uncle Jim had shuffled them methodically he handed them back +fatefully to his partner. Uncle Billy dealt them with a trembling +hand. He turned up a club. "If you are sure of these tricks you know +you've won," said Uncle Jim in a voice that was scarcely audible. +Uncle Billy did not reply, but tremulously laid down the ace and right +and left bowers. +</P> + +<P> +He had won! +</P> + +<P> +A feeling of relief came over each, and they laughed hysterically and +discordantly. Ridiculous and childish as their contest might have +seemed to a looker-on, to each the tension had been as great as that of +the greatest gambler, without the gambler's trained restraint, +coolness, and composure. Uncle Billy nervously took up the cards again. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't," said Uncle Jim gravely; "it's no use—the luck's gone now." +</P> + +<P> +"Just one more deal," pleaded his partner. +</P> + +<P> +Uncle Jim looked at the fire, Uncle Billy hastily dealt, and threw the +two hands face up on the table. They were the ordinary average cards. +He dealt again, with the same result. "I told you so," said Uncle Jim, +without looking up. +</P> + +<P> +It certainly seemed a tame performance after their wonderful hands, and +after another trial Uncle Billy threw the cards aside and drew his +stool before the fire. "Mighty queer, warn't it?" he said, with +reminiscent awe. "Three times running. Do you know, I felt a kind o' +creepy feelin' down my back all the time. Criky! what luck! None of +the boys would believe it if we told 'em—least of all that Dick +Bullen, who don't believe in luck, anyway. Wonder what he'd have said! +and, Lord! how he'd have looked! Wall! what are you starin' so for?" +</P> + +<P> +Uncle Jim had faced around, and was gazing at Uncle Billy's +good-humored, simple face. "Nothin'!" he said briefly, and his eyes +again sought the fire. +</P> + +<P> +"Then don't look as if you was seein' suthin'—you give me the creeps," +returned Uncle Billy a little petulantly. "Let's turn in, afore the +fire goes out!" +</P> + +<P> +The fateful cards were put back into the drawer, the table shoved +against the wall. The operation of undressing was quickly got over, +the clothes they wore being put on top of their blankets. Uncle Billy +yawned, "I wonder what kind of a dream I'll have to-night—it oughter +be suthin' to explain that luck." This was his "good-night" to his +partner. In a few moments he was sound asleep. +</P> + +<P> +Not so Uncle Jim. He heard the wind gradually go down, and in the +oppressive silence that followed could detect the deep breathing of his +companion and the far-off yelp of a coyote. His eyesight becoming +accustomed to the semi-darkness, broken only by the scintillation of +the dying embers of their fire, he could take in every detail of their +sordid cabin and the rude environment in which they had lived so long. +The dismal patches on the bark roof, the wretched makeshifts of each +day, the dreary prolongation of discomfort, were all plain to him now, +without the sanguine hope that had made them bearable. And when he +shut his eyes upon them, it was only to travel in fancy down the steep +mountain side that he had trodden so often to the dreary claim on the +overflowed river, to the heaps of "tailings" that encumbered it, like +empty shells of the hollow, profitless days spent there, which they +were always waiting for the stroke of good fortune to clear away. He +saw again the rotten "sluicing," through whose hopeless rifts and holes +even their scant daily earnings had become scantier. At last he arose, +and with infinite gentleness let himself down from his berth without +disturbing his sleeping partner, and wrapping himself in his blanket, +went to the door, which he noiselessly opened. From the position of a +few stars that were glittering in the northern sky he knew that it was +yet scarcely midnight; there were still long, restless hours before the +day! In the feverish state into which he had gradually worked himself +it seemed to him impossible to wait the coming of the dawn. +</P> + +<P> +But he was mistaken. For even as he stood there all nature seemed to +invade his humble cabin with its free and fragrant breath, and invest +him with its great companionship. He felt again, in that breath, that +strange sense of freedom, that mystic touch of partnership with the +birds and beasts, the shrubs and trees, in this greater home before +him. It was this vague communion that had kept him there, that still +held these world-sick, weary workers in their rude cabins on the slopes +around him; and he felt upon his brow that balm that had nightly lulled +him and them to sleep and forgetfulness. He closed the door, turned +away, crept as noiselessly as before into his bunk again, and presently +fell into a profound slumber. +</P> + +<P> +But when Uncle Billy awoke the next morning he saw it was late; for the +sun, piercing the crack of the closed door, was sending a pencil of +light across the cold hearth, like a match to rekindle its dead embers. +His first thought was of his strange luck the night before, and of +disappointment that he had not had the dream of divination that he had +looked for. He sprang to the floor, but as he stood upright his glance +fell on Uncle Jim's bunk. It was empty. Not only that, but his +<I>blankets</I>—Uncle Jim's own particular blankets—<I>were gone</I>! +</P> + +<P> +A sudden revelation of his partner's manner the night before struck him +now with the cruelty of a blow; a sudden intelligence, perhaps the very +divination he had sought, flashed upon him like lightning! He glanced +wildly around the cabin. The table was drawn out from the wall a +little ostentatiously, as if to catch his eye. On it was lying the +stained chamois-skin purse in which they had kept the few grains of +gold remaining from their last week's "clean up." The grains had been +carefully divided, and half had been taken! But near it lay the little +memorandum-book, open, with the stick of pencil lying across it. A +deep line was drawn across the page on which was recorded their +imaginary extravagant gains and losses, even to the entry of Uncle +Jim's half share of the claim which he had risked and lost! Underneath +were hurriedly scrawled the words:— +</P> + +<P> +"Settled by <I>your</I> luck, last night, old pard.—James Foster." +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +It was nearly a month before Cedar Camp was convinced that Uncle Billy +and Uncle Jim had dissolved partnership. Pride had prevented Uncle +Billy from revealing his suspicions of the truth, or of relating the +events that preceded Uncle Jim's clandestine flight, and Dick Bullen +had gone to Sacramento by stage-coach the same morning. He briefly +gave out that his partner had been called to San Francisco on important +business of their own, that indeed might necessitate his own removal +there later. In this he was singularly assisted by a letter from the +absent Jim, dated at San Francisco, begging him not to be anxious about +his success, as he had hopes of presently entering a profitable +business, but with no further allusions to his precipitate departure, +nor any suggestion of a reason for it. For two or three days Uncle +Billy was staggered and bewildered; in his profound simplicity he +wondered if his extraordinary good fortune that night had made him deaf +to some explanation of his partner's, or, more terrible, if he had +shown some "low" and incredible intimation of taking his partner's +extravagant bet as real and binding. In this distress he wrote to +Uncle Jim an appealing and apologetic letter, albeit somewhat +incoherent and inaccurate, and bristling with misspelling, camp slang, +and old partnership jibes. But to this elaborate epistle he received +only Uncle Jim's repeated assurances of his own bright prospects, and +his hopes that his old partner would be more fortunate, single-handed, +on the old claim. For a whole week or two Uncle Billy sulked, but his +invincible optimism and good humor got the better of him, and he +thought only of his old partner's good fortune. He wrote him +regularly, but always to one address—a box at the San Francisco +post-office, which to the simple-minded Uncle Billy suggested a certain +official importance. To these letters Uncle Jim responded regularly +but briefly. +</P> + +<P> +From a certain intuitive pride in his partner and his affection, Uncle +Billy did not show these letters openly to the camp, although he spoke +freely of his former partner's promising future, and even read them +short extracts. It is needless to say that the camp did not accept +Uncle Billy's story with unsuspecting confidence. On the contrary, a +hundred surmises, humorous or serious, but always extravagant, were +afloat in Cedar Camp. The partners had quarreled over their +clothes—Uncle Jim, who was taller than Uncle Billy, had refused to +wear his partner's trousers. They had quarreled over cards—Uncle Jim +had discovered that Uncle Billy was in possession of a "cold deck," or +marked pack. They had quarreled over Uncle Billy's carelessness in +grinding up half a box of "bilious pills" in the morning's coffee. A +gloomily imaginative mule-driver had darkly suggested that, as no one +had really seen Uncle Jim leave the camp, he was still there, and his +bones would yet be found in one of the ditches; while a still more +credulous miner averred that what he had thought was the cry of a +screech-owl the night previous to Uncle Jim's disappearance, might have +been the agonized utterance of that murdered man. It was highly +characteristic of that camp—and, indeed, of others in California—that +nobody, not even the ingenious theorists themselves, believed their +story, and that no one took the slightest pains to verify or disprove +it. Happily, Uncle Billy never knew it, and moved all unconsciously in +this atmosphere of burlesque suspicion. And then a singular change +took place in the attitude of the camp towards him and the disrupted +partnership. Hitherto, for no reason whatever, all had agreed to put +the blame upon Billy—possibly because he was present to receive it. +As days passed that slight reticence and dejection in his manner, which +they had at first attributed to remorse and a guilty conscience, now +began to tell as absurdly in his favor. Here was poor Uncle Billy +toiling through the ditches, while his selfish partner was lolling in +the lap of luxury in San Francisco! Uncle Billy's glowing accounts of +Uncle Jim's success only contributed to the sympathy now fully given in +his behalf and their execration of the absconding partner. It was +proposed at Bigg's store that a letter expressing the indignation of +the camp over his heartless conduct to his late partner, William Fall, +should be forwarded to him. Condolences were offered to Uncle Billy, +and uncouth attempts were made to cheer his loneliness. A procession +of half a dozen men twice a week to his cabin, carrying their own +whiskey and winding up with a "stag dance" before the premises, was +sufficient to lighten his eclipsed gayety and remind him of a happier +past. "Surprise" working parties visited his claim with spasmodic +essays towards helping him, and great good humor and hilarity +prevailed. It was not an unusual thing for an honest miner to arise +from an idle gathering in some cabin and excuse himself with the remark +that he "reckoned he'd put in an hour's work in Uncle Billy's +tailings!" And yet, as before, it was very improbable if any of these +reckless benefactors <I>really</I> believed in their own earnestness or in +the gravity of the situation. Indeed, a kind of hopeful cynicism ran +through their performances. "Like as not, Uncle Billy is still in +'cahoots' (<I>i.e.</I>, shares) with his old pard, and is just laughin' at +us as he's sendin' him accounts of our tomfoolin'." +</P> + +<P> +And so the winter passed and the rains, and the days of cloudless skies +and chill starlit nights began. There were still freshets from the +snow reservoirs piled high in the Sierran passes, and the Bar was +flooded, but that passed too, and only the sunshine remained. +Monotonous as the seasons were, there was a faint movement in the camp +with the stirring of the sap in the pines and cedars. And then, one +day, there was a strange excitement on the Bar. Men were seen running +hither and thither, but mainly gathering in a crowd on Uncle Billy's +claim, that still retained the old partners' names in "The Fall and +Foster." To add to the excitement; there was the quickly repeated +report of a revolver, to all appearance aimlessly exploded in the air +by some one on the outskirts of the assemblage. As the crowd opened, +Uncle Billy appeared, pale, hysterical, breathless, and staggering a +little under the back-slapping and hand-shaking of the whole camp. For +Uncle Billy had "struck it rich"—had just discovered a "pocket," +roughly estimated to be worth fifteen thousand dollars! +</P> + +<P> +Although in that supreme moment he missed the face of his old partner, +he could not help seeing the unaffected delight and happiness shining +in the eyes of all who surrounded him. It was characteristic of that +sanguine but uncertain life that success and good fortune brought no +jealousy nor envy to the unfortunate, but was rather a promise and +prophecy of the fulfillment of their own hopes. The gold was +there—Nature but yielded up her secret. There was no prescribed limit +to her bounty. So strong was this conviction that a long-suffering but +still hopeful miner, in the enthusiasm of the moment, stooped down and +patted a large boulder with the apostrophic "Good old gal!" +</P> + +<P> +Then followed a night of jubilee, a next morning of hurried +consultation with a mining expert and speculator lured to the camp by +the good tidings; and then the very next night—to the utter +astonishment of Cedar Camp—Uncle Billy, with a draft for twenty +thousand dollars in his pocket, started for San Francisco, and took +leave of his claim and the camp forever! +</P> + +<HR ALIGN="center" WIDTH="60%"> + +<P> +When Uncle Billy landed at the wharves of San Francisco he was a little +bewildered. The Golden Gate beyond was obliterated by the incoming +sea-fog, which had also roofed in the whole city, and lights already +glittered along the gray streets that climbed the grayer sand-hills. +As a Western man, brought up by inland rivers, he was fascinated and +thrilled by the tall-masted sea-going ships, and he felt a strange +sense of the remoter mysterious ocean, which he had never seen. But he +was impressed and startled by smartly dressed men and women, the +passing of carriages, and a sudden conviction that he was strange and +foreign to what he saw. It had been his cherished intention to call +upon his old partner in his working clothes, and then clap down on the +table before him a draft for ten thousand dollars as <I>his</I> share of +their old claim. But in the face of these brilliant strangers a sudden +and unexpected timidity came upon him. He had heard of a cheap popular +hotel, much frequented by the returning gold-miner, who entered its +hospitable doors—which held an easy access to shops—and emerged in a +few hours a gorgeous butterfly of fashion, leaving his old chrysalis +behind him. Thence he inquired his way; hence he afterwards issued in +garments glaringly new and ill fitting. But he had not sacrificed his +beard, and there was still something fine and original in his handsome +weak face that overcame the cheap convention of his clothes. Making +his way to the post-office, he was again discomfited by the great size +of the building, and bewildered by the array of little square +letter-boxes behind glass which occupied one whole wall, and an equal +number of opaque and locked wooden ones legibly numbered. His heart +leaped; he remembered the number, and before him was a window with a +clerk behind it. Uncle Billy leaned forward. +</P> + +<P> +"Kin you tell me if the man that box 690 b'longs to is in?" +</P> + +<P> +The clerk stared, made him repeat the question, and then turned away. +But he returned almost instantly, with two or three grinning heads +besides his own, apparently set behind his shoulders. Uncle Billy was +again asked to repeat his question. He did so. +</P> + +<P> +"Why don't you go and see if 690 is in the box?" said the first clerk, +turning with affected asperity to one of the others. +</P> + +<P> +The clerk went away, returned, and said with singular gravity, "He was +there a moment ago, but he's gone out to stretch his legs. It's rather +crampin' at first; and he can't stand it more than ten hours at a time, +you know." +</P> + +<P> +But simplicity has its limits. Uncle Billy had already guessed his +real error in believing his partner was officially connected with the +building; his cheek had flushed and then paled again. The pupils of +his blue eyes had contracted into suggestive black points. "Ef you'll +let me in at that winder, young fellers," he said, with equal gravity, +"I'll show yer how I kin make <I>you</I> small enough to go in a box without +crampin'! But I only wanted to know where Jim Foster <I>lived</I>." +</P> + +<P> +At which the first clerk became perfunctory again, but civil. "A +letter left in his box would get you that information," he said, "and +here's paper and pencil to write it now." +</P> + +<P> +Uncle Billy took the paper and began to write, "Just got here. Come +and see me at"— He paused. A brilliant idea had struck him; he could +impress both his old partner and the upstarts at the window; he would +put in the name of the latest "swell" hotel in San Francisco, said to +be a fairy dream of opulence. He added "The Oriental," and without +folding the paper shoved it in the window. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you want an envelope?" asked the clerk. +</P> + +<P> +"Put a stamp on the corner of it," responded Uncle Billy, laying down a +coin, "and she'll go through." The clerk smiled, but affixed the +stamp, and Uncle Billy turned away. +</P> + +<P> +But it was a short-lived triumph. The disappointment at finding Uncle +Jim's address conveyed no idea of his habitation seemed to remove him +farther away, and lose his identity in the great city. Besides, he +must now make good his own address, and seek rooms at the Oriental. He +went thither. The furniture and decorations, even in these early days +of hotel-building in San Francisco, were extravagant and overstrained, +and Uncle Billy felt lost and lonely in his strange surroundings. But +he took a handsome suite of rooms, paid for them in advance on the +spot, and then, half frightened, walked out of them to ramble vaguely +through the city in the feverish hope of meeting his old partner. At +night his inquietude increased; he could not face the long row of +tables in the pillared dining-room, filled with smartly dressed men and +women; he evaded his bedroom, with its brocaded satin chairs and its +gilt bedstead, and fled to his modest lodgings at the Good Cheer House, +and appeased his hunger at its cheap restaurant, in the company of +retired miners and freshly arrived Eastern emigrants. Two or three +days passed thus in this quaint double existence. Three or four times +a day he would enter the gorgeous Oriental with affected ease and +carelessness, demand his key from the hotel-clerk, ask for the letter +that did not come, go to his room, gaze vaguely from his window on the +passing crowd below for the partner he could not find, and then return +to the Good Cheer House for rest and sustenance. On the fourth day he +received a short note from Uncle Jim; it was couched in his usual +sanguine but brief and business-like style. He was very sorry, but +important and profitable business took him out of town, but he trusted +to return soon and welcome his old partner. He was also, for the first +time, jocose, and hoped that Uncle Billy would not "see all the sights" +before he, Uncle Jim, returned. Disappointing as this procrastination +was to Uncle Billy, a gleam of hope irradiated it: the letter had +bridged over that gulf which seemed to yawn between them at the +post-office. His old partner had accepted his visit to San Francisco +without question, and had alluded to a renewal of their old intimacy. +For Uncle Billy, with all his trustful simplicity, had been tortured by +two harrowing doubts: one, whether Uncle Jim in his new-fledged +smartness as a "city" man—such as he saw in the streets—would care +for his rough companionship; the other, whether he, Uncle Billy, ought +not to tell him at once of his changed fortune. But, like all weak, +unreasoning men, he clung desperately to a detail—he could not forego +his old idea of astounding Uncle Jim by giving him his share of the +"strike" as his first intimation of it, and he doubted, with more +reason perhaps, if Jim would see him after he had heard of his good +fortune. For Uncle Billy had still a frightened recollection of Uncle +Jim's sudden stroke for independence, and that rigid punctiliousness +which had made him doggedly accept the responsibility of his +extravagant stake at euchre. +</P> + +<P> +With a view of educating himself for Uncle Jim's company, he "saw the +sights" of San Francisco—as an over-grown and somewhat stupid child +might have seen them—with great curiosity, but little contamination or +corruption. But I think he was chiefly pleased with watching the +arrival of the Sacramento and Stockton steamers at the wharves, in the +hope of discovering his old partner among the passengers on the +gang-plank. Here, with his old superstitious tendency and gambler's +instinct, he would augur great success in his search that day if any +one of the passengers bore the least resemblance to Uncle Jim, if a man +or woman stepped off first, or if he met a single person's questioning +eye. Indeed, this got to be the real occupation of the day, which he +would on no account have omitted, and to a certain extent revived each +day in his mind the morning's work of their old partnership. He would +say to himself, "It's time to go and look up Jim," and put off what he +was pleased to think were his pleasures until this act of duty was +accomplished. +</P> + +<P> +In this singleness of purpose he made very few and no entangling +acquaintances, nor did he impart to any one the secret of his fortune, +loyally reserving it for his partner's first knowledge. To a man of +his natural frankness and simplicity this was a great trial, and was, +perhaps, a crucial test of his devotion. When he gave up his rooms at +the Oriental—as not necessary after his partner's absence—he sent a +letter, with his humble address, to the mysterious lock-box of his +partner without fear or false shame. He would explain it all when they +met. But he sometimes treated unlucky and returning miners to a dinner +and a visit to the gallery of some theatre. Yet while he had an active +sympathy with and understanding of the humblest, Uncle Billy, who for +many years had done his own and his partner's washing, scrubbing, +mending, and cooking, and saw no degradation in it, was somewhat +inconsistently irritated by menial functions in men, and although he +gave extravagantly to waiters, and threw a dollar to the +crossing-sweeper, there was always a certain shy avoidance of them in +his manner. Coming from the theatre one night Uncle Billy was, +however, seriously concerned by one of these crossing-sweepers turning +hastily before them and being knocked down by a passing carriage. The +man rose and limped hurriedly away; but Uncle Billy was amazed and +still more irritated to hear from his companion that this kind of +menial occupation was often profitable, and that at some of the +principal crossings the sweepers were already rich men. +</P> + +<P> +But a few days later brought a more notable event to Uncle Billy. One +afternoon in Montgomery Street he recognized in one of its smartly +dressed frequenters a man who had a few years before been a member of +Cedar Camp. Uncle Billy's childish delight at this meeting, which +seemed to bridge over his old partner's absence, was, however, only +half responded to by the ex-miner, and then somewhat satirically. In +the fulness of his emotion, Uncle Billy confided to him that he was +seeking his old partner, Jim Foster, and, reticent of his own good +fortune, spoke glowingly of his partner's brilliant expectations, but +deplored his inability to find him. And just now he was away on +important business. "I reckon he's got back," said the man dryly. "I +didn't know he had a lock-box at the post-office, but I can give you +his other address. He lives at the Presidio, at Washerwoman's Bay." +He stopped and looked with a satirical smile at Uncle Billy. But the +latter, familiar with Californian mining-camp nomenclature, saw nothing +strange in it, and merely repeated his companion's words. +</P> + +<P> +"You'll find him there! Good-by! So long! Sorry I'm in a hurry," +said the ex-miner, and hurried away. +</P> + +<P> +Uncle Billy was too delighted with the prospect of a speedy meeting +with Uncle Jim to resent his former associate's supercilious haste, or +even to wonder why Uncle Jim had not informed him that he had returned. +It was not the first time that he had felt how wide was the gulf +between himself and these others, and the thought drew him closer to +his old partner, as well as his old idea, as it was now possible to +surprise him with the draft. But as he was going to surprise him in +his own boarding-house—probably a handsome one—Uncle Billy reflected +that he would do so in a certain style. +</P> + +<P> +He accordingly went to a livery stable and ordered a landau and pair, +with a negro coachman. Seated in it, in his best and most ill-fitting +clothes, he asked the coachman to take him to the Presidio, and leaned +back in the cushions as they drove through the streets with such an +expression of beaming gratification on his good-humored face that the +passers-by smiled at the equipage and its extravagant occupant. To +them it seemed the not unusual sight of the successful miner "on a +spree." To the unsophisticated Uncle Billy their smiling seemed only a +natural and kindly recognition of his happiness, and he nodded and +smiled back to them with unsuspecting candor and innocent playfulness. +"These yer 'Frisco fellers ain't <I>all</I> slouches, you bet," he added to +himself half aloud, at the back of the grinning coachman. +</P> + +<P> +Their way led through well-built streets to the outskirts, or rather to +that portion of the city which seemed to have been overwhelmed by +shifting sand-dunes, from which half-submerged fences and even low +houses barely marked the foe of highway. The resistless trade-winds +which had marked this change blew keenly in his face and slightly +chilled his ardor. At a turn in the road the sea came im sight, and +sloping towards it the great Cemetery of Lone Mountain, with white +shafts and marbles that glittered in the sunlight like the sails of +ships waiting to be launched down that slope into the Eternal Ocean. +Uncle Billy shuddered. What if it had been his fate to seek Uncle Jim +there! +</P> + +<P> +"Dar's yar Presidio!" said the negro coachman a few moments later, +pointing with his whip, "and dar's yar Wash'woman's Bay!" +</P> + +<P> +Uncle Billy stared. A huge quadrangular fort of stone with a flag +flying above its battlements stood at a little distance, pressed +against the rocks, as if beating back the encroaching surges; between +him and the fort but farther inland was a lagoon with a number of +dilapidated, rudely patched cabins or cottages, like stranded driftwood +around its shore. But there was no mansion, no block of houses, no +street, not another habitation or dwelling to be seen! +</P> + +<P> +Uncle Billy's first shock of astonishment was succeeded by a feeling of +relief. He had secretly dreaded a meeting with his old partner in the +"haunts of fashion"; whatever was the cause that made Uncle Jim seek +this obscure retirement affected him but slightly; he even was thrilled +with a vague memory of the old shiftless camp they had both abandoned. +A certain instinct—-he knew not why, or less still that it might be +one of delicacy—made him alight before they reached the first house. +Bidding the carriage wait; Uncle Billy entered, and was informed by a +blowzy Irish laundress at a tub that Jim Foster, or "Arkansaw Jim," +lived at the fourth shanty "beyant." He was at home, for "he'd +shprained his fut." Uncle Billy hurried on, stopped before the door of +a shanty scarcely less rude than their old cabin, and half timidly +pushed it open. A growling voice from within, a figure that rose +hurriedly, leaning on a stick, with an attempt to fly, but in the same +moment sank back in a chair with an hysterical laugh—and Uncle Billy +stood in the presence of his old partner! But as Uncle Billy darted +forward, Uncle Jim rose again, and this time with outstretched hands. +Uncle Billy caught them, and in one supreme pressure seemed to pour out +and transfuse his whole simple soul into his partner's. There they +swayed each other backwards and forwards and sideways by their still +clasped hands, until Uncle Billy, with a glance at Uncle Jim's bandaged +ankle, shoved him by sheer force down into his chair. +</P> + +<P> +Uncle Jim was first to speak. "Caught, b'gosh! I mighter known you'd +be as big a fool as me! Look you, Billy Fall, do you know what you've +done? You've druv me out er the streets whar I was makin' an honest +livin', by day, on three crossin's! Yes," he laughed forgivingly, "you +druv me out er it, by day, jest because I reckoned that some time I +might run into your darned fool face,"—another laugh and a grasp of +the hand,—"and then, b'gosh! not content with ruinin' my business <I>by +day</I>, when I took to it at night; <I>you</I> took to goin' out at nights +too, and so put a stopper on me there! Shall I tell you what else you +did? Well, by the holy poker! I owe this sprained foot to your darned +foolishness and my own, for it was getting away from <I>you</I> one night +after the theatre that I got run into and run over! +</P> + +<P> +"Ye see," he went on, unconscious of Uncle Billy's paling face, and +with a <I>naïvete</I>, though perhaps not a delicacy, equal to Uncle Billy's +own, "I had to play roots on you with that lock-box business and these +letters, because I did not want you to know what I was up to, for you +mightn't like it, and might think it was lowerin' to the old firm, +don't yer see? I wouldn't hev gone into it, but I was played out, and +I don't mind tellin' you <I>now</I>, old man, that when I wrote you that +first chipper letter from the lock-box I hedn't eat anythin' for two +days. But it's all right <I>now</I>," with a laugh. "Then I got into this +business—thinkin' it nothin'—jest the very last thing—and do you +know, old pard, I couldn't tell anybody but you—and, in fact, I kept +it jest to tell you—I've made nine hundred and fifty-six dollars! +Yes, sir, <I>nine hundred and fifty-six dollars</I>! solid money, in Adams +and Co.'s Bank, just out er my trade." +</P> + +<P> +"Wot trade?" asked Uncle Billy. +</P> + +<P> +Uncle Jim pointed to the corner, where stood a large, heavy +crossing-sweeper's broom. "That trade." +</P> + +<P> +"Certingly," said Uncle Billy, with a quick laugh. +</P> + +<P> +"It's an outdoor trade," said Uncle Jim gravely, but with no suggestion +of awkwardness or apology in his manner; "and thar ain't much +difference between sweepin' a crossin' with a broom and raking over +tailing with a rake, <I>only—wot ye get</I> with a broom <I>you have handed +to ye</I>, and ye don't have to <I>pick it up and fish it out er</I> the wet +rocks and sluice-gushin'; and it's a heap less tiring to the back." +</P> + +<P> +"Certingly, you bet!" said Uncle Billy enthusiastically, yet with a +certain nervous abstraction. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm glad ye say so; for yer see I didn't know at first how you'd +tumble to my doing it, until I'd made my pile. And ef I hadn't made +it, I wouldn't hev set eyes on ye agin, old pard—never!" +</P> + +<P> +"Do you mind my runnin' out a minit?" said Uncle Billy, rising. "You +see, I've got a friend waitin' for me outside—and I reckon"—he +stammered—"I'll jest run out and send him off, so I kin talk comf'ble +to ye." +</P> + +<P> +"Ye ain't got anybody you're owin' money to," said Uncle Jim earnestly, +"anybody follerin' you to get paid, eh? For I kin jest set down right +here and write ye off a check on the bank!" +</P> + +<P> +"No," said Uncle Billy. He slipped out of the door, and ran like a +deer to the waiting carriage. Thrusting a twenty-dollar gold-piece +into the coachman's hand, he said hoarsely, "I ain't wantin' that +kerridge just now; ye ken drive around and hev a private jamboree all +by yourself the rest of the afternoon, and then come and wait for me at +the top o' the hill yonder." +</P> + +<P> +Thus quit of his gorgeous equipage, he hurried back to Uncle Jim, +grasping his ten thousand dollar draft in his pocket. He was nervous, +he was frightened, but he must get rid of the draft and his story, and +have it over. But before he could speak he was unexpectedly stopped by +Uncle Jim. +</P> + +<P> +"Now, look yer, Billy boy!" said Uncle Jim; "I got suthin' to say to +ye—and I might as well clear it off my mind at once, and then we can +start fair agin. Now," he went on, with a half laugh, "wasn't it +enough for <I>me</I> to go on pretendin' I was rich and doing a big +business, and gettin' up that lock-box dodge so as ye couldn't find out +whar I hung out and what I was doin'—wasn't it enough for me to go on +with all this play-actin', but <I>you</I>, you long-legged or'nary cuss! +must get up and go to lyin' and play-acting too!" +</P> + +<P> +"<I>Me</I> play-actin'? <I>Me</I> lyin'?" gasped Uncle Billy. +</P> + +<P> +Uncle Jim leaned back in his chair and laughed. "Do you think you +could fool <I>me</I>? Do you think I didn't see through your little game o' +going to that swell Oriental, jest as if ye'd made a big strike—and +all the while ye wasn't sleepin' 'or eatin' there, but jest wrastlin' +yer hash and having a roll down at the Good Cheer! Do you think I +didn't spy on ye and find that out? Oh, you long-eared jackass-rabbit!" +</P> + +<P> +He laughed until the tears came into his eyes, and Uncle Billy laughed +too, albeit until the laugh on his face became quite fixed, and he was +fain to bury his head in his handkerchief. +</P> + +<P> +"And yet," said Uncle Jim, with a deep breath, "gosh! I was +frightened—jest for a minit! I thought, mebbe, you <I>had</I> made a big +strike—when I got your first letter—and I made up my mind what I'd +do! And then I remembered you was jest that kind of an open sluice +that couldn't keep anythin' to yourself, and you'd have been sure to +have yelled it out to <I>me</I> the first thing. So I waited. And I found +you out, you old sinner!" He reached forward and dug Uncle Billy in +the ribs. +</P> + +<P> +"What <I>would</I> you hev done?" said Uncle Billy, after an hysterical +collapse. +</P> + +<P> +Uncle Jim's face grew grave again. "I'd hev—I'd—hev cl'ared out! +Out er 'Frisco! out er Californy! out er Ameriky! I couldn't have stud +it! Don't think I would hev begrudged ye yer luck! No man would have +been gladder than me." He leaned forward again, and laid his hand +caressingly upon his partner's arm—"Don't think I'd hev wanted to take +a penny of it—but I—thar! I <I>couldn't</I> hev stood up under it! To +hev had <I>you</I>, you, you that I left behind, comin' down here rollin' in +wealth and new partners and friends, and arrive upon me—and this +shonty—and"—he threw towards the corner of the room a terrible +gesture, none the less terrible that it was illogical and inconsequent, +to all that had gone before—"and—and—<I>that broom</I>!" +</P> + +<P> +There was a dead silence in the room. With it Uncle Billy seemed to +feel himself again transported to the homely cabin at Cedar Camp and +that fateful night, with his partner's strange, determined face before +him as then. He even fancied that he heard the roaring of the pines +without, and did not know that it was the distant sea. +</P> + +<P> +But after a minute Uncle Jim resumed:— +</P> + +<P> +"Of course you've made a little raise somehow, or you wouldn't be here?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," said Uncle Billy eagerly. "Yes! I've got"— He stopped and +stammered. "I've got—a—few hundreds." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, oh!" said Uncle Jim cheerfully. He paused, and then added +earnestly, "I say! You ain't got left, over and above your d—d +foolishness at the Oriental, as much as five hundred dollars?" +</P> + +<P> +"I've got," said Uncle Billy, blushing a little over his first +deliberate and affected lie, "I've got at least five hundred and +seventy-two dollars. Yes," he added tentatively, gazing anxiously at +his partner, "I've got at least that." +</P> + +<P> +"Jee whillikins!" said Uncle Jim, with a laugh. Then eagerly, "Look +here, pard! Then we're on velvet! I've got <I>nine</I> hundred; put your +<I>five</I> with that, and I know a little ranch that we can get for twelve +hundred. That's what I've been savin' up for—that's my little game! +No more minin' for <I>me</I>. It's got a shanty twice as big as our old +cabin, nigh on a hundred acres, and two mustangs. We can run it with +two Chinamen and jest make it howl! Wot yer say—eh?" He extended his +hand. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm in," said Uncle Billy, radiantly grasping Uncle Jim's. But his +smile faded, and his clear simple brow wrinkled in two lines. +</P> + +<P> +Happily Uncle Jim did not notice it. "Now, then, old pard," he said +brightly, "we'll have a gay old time to-night—one of our jamborees! +I've got some whisky here and a deck o' cards, and we'll have a little +game, you understand, but not for 'keeps' now! No, siree; we'll play +for beans." +</P> + +<P> +A sudden light illuminated Uncle Billy's face again, but he said, with +a grim desperation, "Not to-night! I've got to go into town. That +fren' o' mine expects me to go to the theayter, don't ye see? But I'll +be out to-morrow at sun-up, and we'll fix up this thing o' the ranch." +</P> + +<P> +"Seems to me you're kinder stuck on this fren'," grunted Uncle Jim. +</P> + +<P> +Uncle Billy's heart bounded at his partner's jealousy. "No—but I +<I>must</I>, you know," he returned, with a faint laugh. +</P> + +<P> +"I say—it ain't a <I>her</I>, is it?" said Uncle Jim. +</P> + +<P> +Uncle Billy achieved a diabolical wink and a creditable blush at his +lie. +</P> + +<P> +"Billy!" +</P> + +<P> +"Jim!" +</P> + +<P> +And under cover of this festive gallantry Uncle Billy escaped. He ran +through the gathering darkness, and toiled up the shifting sands to the +top of the hill, where he found the carriage waiting. +</P> + +<P> +"Wot," said Uncle Billy in a low confidential tone to the coachman, +"wot do you 'Frisco fellers allow to be the best, biggest, and riskiest +gamblin'-saloon here? Suthin' high-toned, you know?" +</P> + +<P> +The negro grinned. It was the usual case of the extravagant +spendthrift miner, though perhaps he had expected a different question +and order. +</P> + +<P> +"Dey is de 'Polka,' de 'El Dorado,' and de 'Arcade' saloon, boss," he +said, flicking his whip meditatively. "Most gents from de mines prefer +de 'Polka,' for dey is dancing wid de gals frown in. But de real +<I>prima facie</I> place for gents who go for buckin' agin de tiger and +straight-out gamblin' is de Arcade.'" +</P> + +<P> +"Drive there like thunder!" said Uncle Billy, leaping into the carriage. +</P> + +<HR ALIGN="center" WIDTH="60%"> + +<P> +True to his word, Uncle Billy was at his partner's shanty early the +next morning. He looked a little tired, but happy, and had brought a +draft with him for five hundred and seventy-five dollars, which he +explained was the total of his capital. Uncle Jim was overjoyed. They +would start for Napa that very day, and conclude the purchase of the +ranch; Uncle Jim's sprained foot was a sufficient reason for his giving +up his present vocation, which he could also sell at a small profit. +His domestic arrangements were very simple; there was nothing to take +with him—there was everything to leave behind. And that afternoon, at +sunset, the two reunited partners were seated on the deck of the Napa +boat as she swung into the stream. +</P> + +<P> +Uncle Billy was gazing over the railing with a look of abstracted +relief towards the Golden Gate, where the sinking sun seemed to be +drawing towards him in the ocean a golden stream that was forever +pouring from the Bay and the three-hilled city beside it. What Uncle +Billy was thinking of, or what the picture suggested to him, did not +transpire; for Uncle Jim, who, emboldened by his holiday, was +luxuriating in an evening paper, suddenly uttered a long-drawn whistle, +and moved closer to his abstracted partner. "Look yer," he said, +pointing to a paragraph he had evidently just read, "just you listen to +this, and see if we ain't lucky, you and me, to be jest wot we +air—trustin' to our own hard work—and not thinkin' o' 'strikes' and +'fortins.' Jest unbutton yer ears, Billy, while I reel off this yer +thing I've jest struck in the paper, and see what d—d fools some men +kin make o' themselves. And that theer reporter wot wrote it—must hev +seed it reely!" +</P> + +<P> +Uncle Jim cleared his throat, and holding the paper close to his eyes +read aloud slowly:— +</P> + +<P> +"'A scene of excitement that recalled the palmy days of '49 was +witnessed last night at the Arcade Saloon. A stranger, who might have +belonged to that reckless epoch, and who bore every evidence of being a +successful Pike County miner out on a "spree," appeared at one of the +tables with a negro coachman bearing two heavy bags of gold. Selecting +a faro-bank as his base of operations, he began to bet heavily and with +apparent recklessness, until his play excited the breathless attention +of every one. In a few moments he had won a sum variously estimated at +from eighty to a hundred thousand dollars. A rumor went round the room +that it was a concerted attempt to "break the bank" rather than the +drunken freak of a Western miner, dazzled by some successful strike. +To this theory the man's careless and indifferent bearing towards his +extraordinary gains lent great credence. The attempt, if such it was, +however, was unsuccessful. After winning ten times in succession the +luck turned, and the unfortunate "bucket" was cleared out not only of +his gains, but of his original investment, which may be placed roughly +at twenty thousand dollars. This extraordinary play was witnessed by a +crowd of excited players, who were less impressed by even the magnitude +of the stakes than the perfect <I>sang froid</I> and recklessness of the +player, who, it is said, at the close of the game tossed a +twenty-dollar gold-piece to the banker and smilingly withdrew. The man +was not recognized by any of the habitués of the place.' +</P> + +<P> +"There!" said Uncle Jim, as he hurriedly slurred over the French +substantive at the close, "did ye ever see such God-forsaken +foolishness?" +</P> + +<P> +Uncle Billy lifted his abstracted eyes from the current, still pouring +its unreturning gold into the sulking sun, and said, with a deprecatory +smile, "Never!" +</P> + +<P> +Nor even in the days of prosperity that visited the Great Wheat Ranch +of "Fall and Foster" did he ever tell his secret to his partner. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap06"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE NOTARY OF PERIGUEUX +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +By H. W. LONGFELLOW +</H4> + +<P CLASS="intro"> +Do not trust thy body with a physician. He'll make thy foolish bones +go without flesh in a fortnight, and thy soul walk without a body in a +se'nnight after.—<I>Shirley</I>. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +You must know, gentlemen, that there lived some years ago, in the city +of Périgueux, an honest notary public, the descendant of a very ancient +and broken-down family, and the occupant of one of those old +weather-beaten tenements which remind you of the times of your +great-grandfather. He was a man of an unoffending, quiet disposition; +the father of a family, though not the head of it—for in that family +"the hen overcrowed the cock," and the neighbors, when they spake of +the notary, shrugged their shoulders, and exclaimed, "Poor fellow! his +spurs want sharpening." In fine—you understand me, gentlemen—he was +hen-pecked. +</P> + +<P> +Well, finding no peace at home, he sought it elsewhere, as was very +natural for him to do; and at length discovered a place of rest far +beyond the cares and clamors of domestic life. This was a little <I>café +estaminet</I> a short way out of the city, whither he repaired every +evening to smoke his pipe, drink sugar-water, and play his favorite +game of domino. There he met the boon companions he most loved; heard +all the floating chit-chat of the day; laughed when he was in a merry +mood; found consolation when he was sad; and at all times gave vent to +his opinions without fear of being snubbed short by a flat +contradiction. +</P> + +<P> +Now, the notary's bosom friend was a dealer in claret and cognac, who +lived about a league from the city, and always passed his evenings at +the <I>estaminet</I>. He was a gross, corpulent fellow, raised from a +full-blooded Gascon breed, and sired by a comic actor of some +reputation in his way. He was remarkable for nothing but his +good-humor, his love of cards, and a strong propensity to test the +quality of his own liquors by comparing them with those sold at other +places. +</P> + +<P> +As evil communications corrupt good manners, the bad practices of the +wine-dealer won insensibly upon the worthy notary; and before he was +aware of it, he found himself weaned from domino and sugar-water, and +addicted to piquet and spiced wine. Indeed, it not infrequently +happened that, after a long session at the <I>estaminet</I>, the two friends +grew so urbane that they would waste a full half-hour at the door in +friendly dispute which should conduct the other home. +</P> + +<P> +Though this course of life agreed well enough with the sluggish, +phlegmatic temperament of the wine-dealer, it soon began to play the +very deuce with the more sensitive organization of the notary, and +finally put his nervous system completely out of tune. He lost his +appetite, became gaunt and haggard, and could get no sleep. Legions of +blue-devils haunted him by day, and by night strange faces peeped +through his bed-curtains and the nightmare snorted in his ear. The +worse he grew the more he smoked and tippled; and the more he smoked +and tippled, why, as a matter of course, the worse he grew. His wife +alternately stormed, remonstrated, entreated; but all in vain. She +made the house too hot for him—he retreated to the tavern; she broke +his long-stemmed pipes upon the andirons—he substituted a +short-stemmed one, which, for safe-keeping, he carried in his waistcoat +pocket. +</P> + +<P> +Thus the unhappy notary ran gradually down at the heel. What with his +bad habits and his domestic grievances, he became completely hipped. +He imagined that he was going to die, and suffered in quick succession +all the diseases that ever beset mortal man. Every shooting pain was +an alarming symptom—every uneasy feeling after dinner a sure +prognostic of some mortal disease. In vain did his friends endeavor to +reason, and then to laugh him out of his strange whims; for when did +ever jest or reason cure a sick imagination? His only answer was, "Do +let me alone; I know better than you what ails me." +</P> + +<P> +Well, gentlemen, things were in this state when, one afternoon in +December, as he sat moping in his office, wrapped in an overcoat, with +a cap on his head and his feet thrust into a pair of furred slippers, a +cabriolet stopped at the door, and a loud knocking without aroused him +from his gloomy revery. It was a message from his friend the +wine-dealer, who had been suddenly attacked with a violent fever, and, +growing worse and worse, bad now sent in the greatest haste for the +notary to draw up his last will and testament. The case was urgent, +and admitted neither excuse nor delay; and the notary, tying a +handkerchief round his face, and buttoning up to the chin, jumped into +the cabriolet, and suffered himself, though not without some dismal +presentiments and misgivings of heart, to be driven to the +wine-dealer's house. +</P> + +<P> +When he arrived he found everything in the greatest confusion. On +entering the house he ran against the apothecary, who was coming down +stairs, with a face as long as your arm; and a few steps farther he met +the housekeeper—for the wine-dealer was an old bachelor—running up +and down, and wringing her hands, for fear that the good man should die +without making his will. He soon reached the chamber of his sick +friend, and found him tossing about in a paroxysm of fever, and calling +aloud for a draught of cold water. The notary shook his head; he +thought this a fatal symptom; for ten years back the wine-dealer had +been suffering under a species of hydrophobia, which seemed suddenly to +have left him. +</P> + +<P> +When the sick man saw who stood by his bedside he stretched out his +hand and exclaimed: +</P> + +<P> +"Ah! my dear friend! have you come at last? You see it is all over +with me. You have arrived just in time to draw up that—that passport +of mine. Ah, <I>grand diable</I>! how hot it is here! Water—water—water! +Will nobody give me a drop of cold water?" +</P> + +<P> +As the case was an urgent one, the notary made no delay in getting his +papers in readiness; and in a short time the last will and testament of +the wine-dealer was drawn up in due form, the notary guiding the sick +man's hand as he scrawled his signature at the bottom. +</P> + +<P> +As the evening wore away, the wine-dealer grew worse and worse, and at +length became delirious, mingling in his incoherent ravings the phrases +of the Credo and Paternoster with the shibboleth of the dram-shop and +the card-table. +</P> + +<P> +"Take care! take care! There, now—<I>Credo in</I>—Pop! ting-a-ling-ling! +give me some of that. Cent-é-dize! Why, you old publican, this wine +is poisoned—I know your tricks!—<I>Sanctam ecclesiam Catholicam</I>—Well, +well, we shall see. Imbecile! to have a tierce-major and a seven of +hearts, and discard the seven! By St. Anthony, capot! You are +lurched—ha! ha! I told you so. I knew very well—there—there—don't +interrupt me—<I>Carnis resurrectionem et vitam eternam</I>!" +</P> + +<P> +With these words upon his lips the poor wine-dealer expired. Meanwhile +the notary sat cowering over the fire, aghast at the fearful scene that +was passing before him, and now and then striving to keep up his +courage by a glass of cognac. Already his fears were on the alert, and +the idea of contagion flitted to and fro through his mind. In order to +quiet these thoughts of evil import, he lighted his pipe, and began to +prepare for returning home. At that moment the apothecary turned round +to him and said: +</P> + +<P> +"Dreadful sickly time, this! The disorder seems to be spreading." +</P> + +<P> +"What disorder?" exclaimed the notary, with a movement of surprise. +</P> + +<P> +"Two died yesterday, and three to-day," continued the apothecary, +without answering the question. "Very sickly time, sir—very." +</P> + +<P> +"But what disorder is it? What disease has carried off my friend here +so suddenly?" +</P> + +<P> +"What disease? Why, scarlet fever, to be sure." +</P> + +<P> +"And is it contagious?" +</P> + +<P> +"Certainly." +</P> + +<P> +"Then I am a dead man!" exclaimed the notary, putting his pipe into his +waistcoat-pocket, and beginning to walk up and down the room in +despair. "I am a dead man! Now don't deceive me—don't, will you? +What—what are the symptoms?" +</P> + +<P> +"A sharp burning pain in the right side," said the apothecary. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, what a fool I was to come here!" +</P> + +<P> +In vain did the housekeeper and the apothecary strive to pacify him—he +was not a man to be reasoned with; he answered that he knew his own +constitution better than they did, and insisted upon going home without +delay. Unfortunately, the vehicle he came in had returned to the city, +and the whole neighborhood was abed and asleep. What was to be done? +Nothing in the world but to take the apothecary's horse, which stood +hitched at the door, patiently waiting his master's will. +</P> + +<P> +Well, gentlemen, as there was no remedy, our notary mounted this +raw-boned steed, and set forth upon his homeward journey. The night +was cold and gusty, and the wind right in his teeth. Overhead the +leaden clouds were beating to and fro, and through them the newly-risen +moon seemed to be tossing and drifting along like a cock-boat in the +surf; now swallowed up in a huge billow of cloud, and now lifted upon +its bosom and dashed with silvery spray. The trees by the roadside +groaned with a sound of evil omen, and before him lay three mortal +miles, beset with a thousand imaginary perils. Obedient to the whip +and spur, the steed leaped forward by fits and starts, now dashing away +in a tremendous gallop, and now relaxing into a long, hard trot; while +the rider, filled with symptoms of disease and dire presentiments of +death, urged him on, as if he were fleeing before the pestilence. +</P> + +<P> +In this way, by dint of whistling and shouting, and beating right and +left, one mile of the fatal three was safely passed. The apprehensions +of the notary had so far subsided that he even suffered the poor horse +to walk up hill; but these apprehensions were suddenly revived again +with tenfold violence by a sharp pain in the right side, which seemed +to pierce him like a needle. +</P> + +<P> +"It is upon me at last!" groaned the fear-stricken man. "Heaven be +merciful to me, the greatest of sinners! And must I die in a ditch, +after all? He! get up! get up!" +</P> + +<P> +And away went horse and rider at full speed—hurry-scurry—up hill and +down—panting and blowing like a whirlwind. At every leap the pain in +the rider's side seemed to increase. At first it was a little point +like the prick of a needle—then it spread to the size of a half-franc +piece—then covered a place as large as the palm of your hand. It +gained upon him fast. The poor man groaned aloud in agony; faster and +faster sped the horse over the frozen ground—farther and farther +spread the pain over his side. To complete the dismal picture, the +storm commenced—snow mingled with rain. But snow and rain, and cold +were naught to him; for, though his arms and legs were frozen to +icicles, he felt it not; the fatal symptom was upon him; he was doomed +to die—not of cold, but of scarlet fever! +</P> + +<P> +At length, he knew not how, more dead than alive, he reached the gate +of the city. A band of ill-bred dogs, that were serenading at a corner +of the street, seeing the notary dash by, joined in the hue and cry, +and ran barking and yelping at his heels. It was now late at night, +and only here and there a solitary lamp twinkled from an upper story. +But on went the notary, down this street and up that, till at last he +reached his own door. There was a light in his wife's bedchamber. The +good woman came to the window, alarmed at such a knocking, and howling, +and clattering at her door so late at night; and the notary was too +deeply absorbed in his own sorrows to observe that the lamp cast the +shadow of two heads on the window-curtain. +</P> + +<P> +"Let me in! let me in! Quick! quick!" he exclaimed, almost breathless +from terror and fatigue. +</P> + +<P> +"Who are you, that come to disturb a lone woman at this hour of the +night?" cried a sharp voice from above. "Begone about your business, +and let quiet people sleep." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, <I>diable, diable</I>! Come down and let me in! I am your husband. +Don't you know my voice? Quick, I beseech you; for I am dying here in +the street!" +</P> + +<P> +After a few moments of delay and a few more words of parley, the door +was opened, and the notary stalked into his domicile, pale and haggard +in aspect, and as stiff and straight as a ghost. Cased from head to +heel in an armor of ice, as the glare of the lamp fell upon him he +looked like a knight-errant mailed in steel. But in one place his +armor was broken. On his right side was a circular spot as large as +the crown of your hat, and about as black! +</P> + +<P> +"My dear wife!" he exclaimed, with more tenderness than he had +exhibited for many years, "reach me a chair. My hours are numbered. I +am a dead man!" +</P> + +<P> +Alarmed at these exclamations, his wife stripped off his overcoat. +Something fell from beneath it, and was dashed to pieces on the hearth. +It was the notary's pipe. He placed his hand upon his side, and lo! it +was bare to the skin. Coat, waistcoat, and linen were burnt through +and through, and there was a blister on his side as large over as your +head! +</P> + +<P> +The mystery was soon explained, symptom and all. The notary had put +his pipe into his pocket without knocking out the ashes! And so my +story ends. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +"Is that all?" asked the radical, when the story-teller had finished. +</P> + +<P> +"That is all." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, what does your story prove?" +</P> + +<P> +"That is more than I can tell. All I know is that the story is true." +</P> + +<P> +"And did he die?" said the nice little man in gosling-green. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes; he died afterward," replied the story-teller, rather annoyed at +the question. +</P> + +<P> +"And what did he die of?" continued gosling-green, following him up. +</P> + +<P> +"What did he die of? why, he died—of a sudden!" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap07"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE WIDOW'S CRUISE +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +By F. R. STOCKTON +</H4> + +<P CLASS="intro"> +"From a Story-Teller's Pack." Copyright 1897 by Charles Scribner's +Sons. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +The widow Ducket lived in a small village about ten miles from the New +Jersey seacoast. In this village she was born, here she had married +and buried her husband, and here she expected somebody to bury her; but +she was in no hurry for this, for she had scarcely reached middle age. +She was a tall woman with no apparent fat in her composition, and full +of activity, both muscular and mental. +</P> + +<P> +She rose at six o'clock in the morning, cooked breakfast, set the +table, washed the dishes when the meal was over, milked, churned, +swept, washed, ironed, worked in her little garden, attended to the +flowers in the front yard and in the afternoon knitted and quilted and +sewed, and after tea she either went to see her neighbors or had them +come to see her. When it was really dark she lighted the lamp in her +parlor and read for an hour, and if it happened to be one of Miss Mary +Wilkins's books that she read she expressed doubts as to the realism of +the characters therein described. +</P> + +<P> +These doubts she expressed to Dorcas Networthy, who was a small, plump +woman, with a solemn face, who had lived with the widow for many years +and who had become her devoted disciple. Whatever the widow did, that +also did Dorcas—not so well, for her heart told her she could never +expect to do that, but with a yearning anxiety to do everything as well +as she could. +</P> + +<P> +She rose at five minutes past six, and in a subsidiary way she helped +to get the breakfast, to eat it, to wash up the dishes, to work in the +garden, to quilt, to sew, to visit and receive, and no one could have +tried harder than she did to keep awake when the widow read aloud in +the evening. +</P> + +<P> +All these things happened every day in the summer-time, but in the +winter the widow and Dorcas cleared the snow from their little front +path instead of attending to the flowers, and in the evening they +lighted a fire as well as a lamp in the parlor. +</P> + +<P> +Sometimes, however, something different happened, but this was not +often, only a few times in the year. One of the different things +occurred when Mrs. Ducket and Dorcas were sitting on their little front +porch one summer afternoon, one on the little bench on one side of the +door, and the other on the little bench on the other side of the door, +each waiting until she should hear the clock strike five, to prepare +tea. But it was not yet a quarter to five when a one-horse wagon +containing four men came slowly down the street. Dorcas first saw the +wagon, and she instantly stopped knitting. +</P> + +<P> +"Mercy on me!" she exclaimed. "Whoever those people are, they are +strangers here, and they don't know where to stop, for they first go to +one side of the street and then to the other." +</P> + +<P> +The widow looked around sharply. "Humph!" said she. "Those men are +sailormen. You might see that in a twinklin' of an eye. Sailormen +always drive that way, because that is the way they sail ships. They +first tack in one direction and then in another." +</P> + +<P> +"Mr. Ducket didn't like the sea?" remarked Dorcas, for about the three +hundredth time. +</P> + +<P> +"No, he didn't," answered the widow, for about the two hundred and +fiftieth time, for there had been occasions when she thought Dorcas put +this question inopportunely. "He hated it, and he was drowned in it +through trustin' a sailorman, which I never did nor shall. Do you +really believe those men are comin' here?" +</P> + +<P> +"Upon my word I do!" said Dorcas, and her opinion was correct. +</P> + +<P> +The wagon drew up in front of Mrs. Ducket's little white house, and the +two women sat rigidly, their hands in their laps, staring at the man +who drove. +</P> + +<P> +This was an elderly personage with whitish hair, and under his chin a +thin whitish beard, which waved in the gentle breeze and gave Dorcas +the idea that his head was filled with hair which was leaking out from +below. +</P> + +<P> +"Is this the Widow Ducket's?" inquired this elderly man, in a strong, +penetrating voice. +</P> + +<P> +"That's my name," said the widow, and laying her knitting on the bench +beside her, she went to the gate. Dorcas also laid her knitting on the +bench beside her and went to the gate. +</P> + +<P> +"I was told," said the elderly man, "at a house we touched at about a +quarter of a mile back, that the Widow Ducket's was the only house in +this village where there was any chance of me and my mates getting a +meal. We are four sailors, and we are making from the bay over to +Cuppertown, and that's eight miles ahead yet, and we are all pretty +sharp set for something to eat." +</P> + +<P> +"This is the place," said the widow, "and I do give meals if there is +enough in the house and everything comes handy." +</P> + +<P> +"Does everything come handy to-day?" said he. +</P> + +<P> +"It does," said she, "and you can hitch your horse and come in; but I +haven't got anything for him." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, that's all right," said the man, "we brought along stores for him, +so we'll just make fast and then come in." +</P> + +<P> +The two women hurried into the house in a state of bustling +preparation, for the furnishing of this meal meant one dollar in cash. +</P> + +<P> +The four mariners, all elderly men, descended from the wagon, each one +scrambling with alacrity over a different wheel. +</P> + +<P> +A box of broken ship-biscuit was brought out and put on the ground in +front of the horse, who immediately set himself to eating with great +satisfaction. +</P> + +<P> +Tea was a little late that day, because there were six persons to +provide for instead of two, but it was a good meal, and after the four +seamen had washed their hands and faces at the pump in the back yard +and had wiped them on two towels furnished by Dorcas, they all came in +and sat down. Mrs. Ducket seated herself at the head of the table with +the dignity proper to the mistress of the house, and Dorcas seated +herself at the other end with the dignity proper to the disciple of the +mistress. No service was necessary, for everything that was to be +eaten or drunk was on the table. +</P> + +<P> +When each of the elderly mariners had had as much bread and butter, +quickly baked soda-biscuit, dried beef, cold ham, cold tongue, and +preserved fruit of every variety known, as his storage capacity would +permit, the mariner in command, Captain Bird, pushed back his chair, +whereupon the other mariners pushed back their chairs. +</P> + +<P> +"Madam," said Captain Bird, "we have all made a good meal, which didn't +need to be no better nor more of it, and we're satisfied; but that +horse out there has not had time to rest himself enough to go the eight +miles that lies ahead of us, so, if it's all the same to you and this +good lady, we'd like to sit on that front porch awhile and smoke our +pipes. I was a-looking at that porch when I came in, and I bethought +to myself what a rare good place it was to smoke a pipe in." +</P> + +<P> +"There's pipes been smoked there," said the widow, rising, "and it can +be done again. Inside the house I don't allow tobacco, but on the +porch neither of us minds." +</P> + +<P> +So the four captains betook themselves to the porch, two of them +seating themselves on the little bench on one side of the door, and two +of them on the little bench on the other side of the door, and lighted +their pipes. +</P> + +<P> +"Shall we clear off the table and wash up the dishes," said Dorcas, "or +wait until they are gone?" +</P> + +<P> +"We will wait until they are gone," said the widow, "for now that they +are here we might as well have a bit of a chat with them. When a +sailorman lights his pipe he is generally willin' to talk, but when he +is eatin' you can't get a word out of him." +</P> + +<P> +Without thinking it necessary to ask permission, for the house belonged +to her, the Widow Ducket brought a chair and put it in the hall close +to the open front door, and Dorcas brought another chair and seated +herself by the side of the widow. +</P> + +<P> +"Do all you sailormen belong down there at the bay?" asked Mrs. Ducket; +thus the conversation began, and in a few minutes it had reached a +point at which Captain Bird thought it proper to say that a great many +strange things happen to seamen sailing on the sea which lands-people +never dream of. +</P> + +<P> +"Such as anything in particular?" asked the widow, at which remark +Dorcas clasped her hands in expectancy. +</P> + +<P> +At this question each of the mariners took his pipe from his mouth and +gazed upon the floor in thought. +</P> + +<P> +"There's a good many strange things happened to me and my mates at sea. +Would you and that other lady like to hear any of them?" asked Captain +Bird. +</P> + +<P> +"We would like to hear them if they are true," said the widow. +</P> + +<P> +"There's nothing happened to me and my mates that isn't true," said +Captain Bird, "and here is something that once happened to me: I was on +a whaling v'yage when a big sperm-whale, just as mad as a fiery bull, +came at us, head on, and struck the ship at the stern with such +tremendous force that his head crashed right through her timbers and he +went nearly half his length into her hull. The hold was mostly filled +with empty barrels, for we was just beginning our v'yage, and when he +had made kindling-wood of these there was room enough for him. We all +expected that it wouldn't take five minutes for the vessel to fill and +go to the bottom, and we made ready to take to the boats; but it turned +out we didn't need to take to no boats, for as fast as the water rushed +into the hold of the ship, that whale drank it and squirted it up +through the two blow-holes in the top of his head, and as there was an +open hatchway just over his head, the water all went into the sea +again, and that whale kept working day and night pumping the water out +until we beached the vessel on the island of Trinidad—the whale +helping us wonderful on our way over by the powerful working of his +tail, which, being outside in the water, acted like a propeller. I +don't believe anything stranger than that ever happened to a +whaling-ship." +</P> + +<P> +"No," said the widow, "I don't believe anything ever did." +</P> + +<P> +Captain Bird now looked at Captain Sanderson, and the latter took his +pipe out of his mouth and said that in all his sailing around the world +he had never known anything queerer than what happened to a big +steamship he chanced to be on, which ran into an island in a fog. +Everybody on board thought the ship was wrecked, but it had twin +screws, and was going at such a tremendous speed that it turned the +island entirely upside down and sailed over it, and he had heard tell +that even now people sailing over the spot could look down into the +water and see the roots of the trees and the cellars of the houses. +</P> + +<P> +Captain Sanderson now put his pipe back into his mouth, and Captain +Burress took out his pipe. +</P> + +<P> +"I was once in an obelisk-ship," said he, "that used to trade regular +between Egypt and New York, carrying obelisks. We had a big obelisk on +board. The way they ship obelisks is to make a hole in the stern of +the ship, and run the obelisk in, p'inted end foremost; and this +obelisk filled up nearly the whole of that ship from stern to bow. We +was about ten days out, and sailing afore a northeast gale with the +engines at full speed, when suddenly we spied breakers ahead, and our +captain saw we was about to run on a bank. Now if we hadn't had an +obelisk on board we might have sailed over that bank, but the captain +knew that with an obelisk on board we drew too much water for this, and +that we'd be wrecked in about fifty-five seconds if something wasn't +done quick. So he had to do something quick, and this is what he did: +He ordered all steam on, and drove slam-bang on that bank. Just as he +expected, we stopped so suddint that that big obelisk bounced for'ard, +its p'inted end foremost, and went clean through the bow and shot out +into the sea. The minute it did that the vessel was so lightened that +it rose in the water and we then steamed over the bank. There was one +man knocked overboard by the shock when we struck, but as soon as we +missed him we went back after him and we got him all right. You see, +when that obelisk went overboard, its butt-end, which was heaviest, +went down first, and when it touched the bottom it just stood there, +and as it was such a big obelisk there was about five and a half feet +of it stuck out of the water. The man who was knocked overboard he +just swum for that obelisk and he climbed up the hiryglyphics. It was +a mighty fine obelisk, and the Egyptians had cut their hiryglyphics +good and deep, so that the man could get hand and foot hold; and when +we got to him and took him off, he was sitting high and dry on the +p'inted end of that obelisk. It was a great pity about the obelisk, +for it was a good obelisk, but as I never heard the company tried to +raise it, I expect it is standing there yet." +</P> + +<P> +Captain Burress now put his pipe back into his mouth and looked at +Captain Jenkinson, who removed his pipe and said: +</P> + +<P> +"The queerest thing that ever happened to me was about a shark. We was +off the Banks, and the time of year was July, and the ice was coming +down, and we got in among a lot of it. Not far away, off our weather +bow, there was a little iceberg which had such a queerness about it +that the captain and three men went in a boat to look at it. The ice +was mighty clear ice, and you could see almost through it, and right +inside of it, not more than three feet above the water-line, and about +two feet, or maybe twenty inches, inside the ice, was a whopping big +shark, about fourteen feet long,—a regular man-eater,—frozen in there +hard and fast. 'Bless my soul,' said the captain, 'this is a wonderful +curiosity, and I'm going to git him out.' Just then one of the men +said he saw that shark wink, but the captain wouldn't believe him, for +he said that shark was frozen stiff and hard and couldn't wink. You +see, the captain had his own idees about things, and he knew that +whales was warm-blooded and would freeze if they was shut up in ice, +but he forgot that sharks was not whales and that they're cold-blooded +just like toads. And there is toads that has been shut up in rocks for +thousands of years, and they stayed alive, no matter how cold the place +was, because they was cold-blooded, and when the rocks was split, out +hopped the frog. But, as I said before, the captain forgot sharks was +cold-blooded, and he determined to git that one out. +</P> + +<P> +"Now you both know, being housekeepers, that if you take a needle and +drive it into a hunk of ice you can split it. The captain had a +sail-needle with him, and so he drove it into the iceberg right +alongside of the shark and split it. Now the minute he did it he knew +that the man was right when he said he saw the shark wink, for it +flopped out of that iceberg quicker nor a flash of lightning." +</P> + +<P> +"What a happy fish he must have been!" ejaculated Dorcas, forgetful of +precedent, so great was her emotion. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," said Captain Jenkinson, "it was a happy fish enough, but it +wasn't a happy captain. You see, that shark hadn't had anything to +eat, perhaps for a thousand years, until the captain came along with +his sail-needle." +</P> + +<P> +"Surely you sailormen do see strange things," now said the widow, "and +the strangest thing about them is that they are true." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, indeed," said Dorcas, "that is the most wonderful thing." +</P> + +<P> +"You wouldn't suppose," said the Widow Ducket, glancing from one bench +of mariners to the other, "that I have a sea-story to tell, but I have, +and if you like I will tell it to you." +</P> + +<P> +Captain Bird looked up a little surprised. +</P> + +<P> +"We would like to hear it—indeed, we would, madam," said he. +</P> + +<P> +"Ay, ay!" said Captain Burress, and the two other mariners nodded. +</P> + +<P> +"It was a good while ago," she said, "when I was living on the shore +near the head of the bay, that my husband was away and I was left alone +in the house. One mornin' my sister-in-law, who lived on the other +side of the bay, sent me word by a boy on a horse that she hadn't any +oil in the house to fill the lamp that she always put in the window to +light her husband home, who was a fisherman, and if I would send her +some by the boy she would pay me back as soon as they bought oil. The +boy said he would stop on his way home and take the oil to her, but he +never did stop, or perhaps he never went back, and about five o'clock I +began to get dreadfully worried, for I knew if that lamp wasn't in my +sister-in-law's window by dark she might be a widow before midnight. +So I said to myself, 'I've got to get that oil to her, no matter what +happens or how it's done.' Of course I couldn't tell what might +happen, but there was only one way it could be done, and that was for +me to get into the boat that was tied to the post down by the water, +and take it to her, for it was too far for me to walk around by the +head of the bay. Now, the trouble was, I didn't know no more about a +boat and the managin' of it than any one of you sailormen knows about +clear-starchin'. But there wasn't no use of thinkin' what I knew and +what I didn't know, for I had to take it to her, and there was no way +of doin' it except in that boat. So I filled a gallon can, for I +thought I might as well take enough while I was about it, and I went +down to the water and I unhitched that boat and I put the oil-can into +her, and then I got in, and off I started, and when I was about a +quarter of a mile from the shore—" +</P> + +<P> +"Madam," interrupted Captain Bird, "did you row or—or was there a sail +to the boat?" +</P> + +<P> +The widow looked at the questioner for a moment. "No," said she, "I +didn't row. I forgot to bring the oars from the house; but it didn't +matter, for I didn't know how to use them, and if there had been a sail +I couldn't have put it up, for I didn't know how to use it, either. I +used the rudder to make the boat go. The rudder was the only thing I +knew anything about. I'd held a rudder when I was a little girl, and I +knew how to work it. So I just took hold of the handle of the rudder +and turned it round and round, and that made the boat go ahead, you +know, and—" +</P> + +<P> +"Madam!" exclaimed Captain Bird, and the other elderly mariners took +their pipes from their mouths. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, that is the way I did it," continued the widow, briskly. "Big +steamships are made to go by a propeller turning round and round at +their back ends, and I made the rudder work in the same way, and I got +along very well, too, until suddenly, when I was about a quarter of a +mile from the shore, a most terrible and awful storm arose. There must +have been a typhoon or a cyclone out at sea, for the waves came up the +bay bigger than houses, and when they got to the head of the bay they +turned around and tried to get out to sea again. So in this way they +continually met, and made the most awful and roarin' pilin' up of waves +that ever was known. +</P> + +<P> +"My little boat was pitched about as if it had been a feather in a +breeze, and when the front part of it was cleavin' itself down into the +water the hind part was stickin' up until the rudder whizzed around +like a patent churn with no milk in it. The thunder began to roar and +the lightnin' flashed, and three sea-gulls, so nearly frightened to +death that they began to turn up the whites of their eyes, flew down +and sat on one of the seats of the boat, forgettin' in that awful +moment that man was their nat'ral enemy. I had a couple of biscuits in +my pocket, because I had thought I might want a bite in crossing, and I +crumpled up one of these and fed the poor creatures. Then I began to +wonder what I was goin' to do, for things were gettin' awfuller and +awfuller every instant, and the little boat was a-heavin' and +a-pitchin' and a-rollin' and h'istin' itself up, first on one end and +then on the other, to such an extent that if I hadn't kept tight hold +of the rudder-handle I'd slipped off the seat I was sittin' on. +</P> + +<P> +"All of a sudden I remembered that oil in the can; but just as I was +puttin' my fingers on the cork my conscience smote me. 'Am I goin' to +use this oil,' I said to myself, 'and let my sister-in-law's husband be +wrecked for want of it?' And then I thought that he wouldn't want it +all that night, and perhaps they would buy oil the next day, and so I +poured out about a tumblerful of it on the water, and I can just tell +you sailormen that you never saw anything act as prompt as that did. +In three seconds, or perhaps five, the water all around me, for the +distance of a small front yard, was just as flat as a table and as +smooth as glass, and so invitin' in appearance that the three gulls +jumped out of the boat and began to swim about on it, primin' their +feathers and lookin' at themselves in the transparent depths, though I +must say that one of them made an awful face as he dipped his bill into +the water and tasted kerosene. +</P> + +<P> +"Now I had time to sit quiet in the midst of the placid space I had +made for myself, and rest from workin' of the rudder. Truly it was a +wonderful and marvelous thing to look at. The waves was roarin' and +leapin' up all around me higher than the roof of this house, and +sometimes their tops would reach over so that they nearly met and shut +out all view of the stormy sky, which seemed as if it was bein' torn to +pieces by blazin' lightnin', while the thunder pealed so tremendous +that it almost drowned the roar of the waves. Not only above and all +around me was everything terrific and fearful, but even under me it was +the same, for there was a big crack in the bottom of the boat as wide +as my hand, and through this I could see down into the water beneath, +and there was—" +</P> + +<P> +"Madam!" ejaculated Captain Bird, the hand which, had been holding his +pipe a few inches from his mouth now dropping to his knee; and at this +motion the hands which held the pipes of the three other mariners +dropped to their knees. +</P> + +<P> +"Of course it sounds strange," continued the widow, "but I know that +people can see down into clear water, and the water under me was clear, +and the crack was wide enough for me to see through, and down under me +was sharks and swordfishes and other horrible water creatures, which I +had never seen before, all driven into the bay, I haven't a doubt, by +the violence of the storm out at sea. The thought of my bein' upset +and fallin' in among those monsters made my very blood run cold, and +involuntary-like I began to turn the handle of the rudder, and in a +moment I shot into a wall of ragin' sea-water that was towerin' around +me. For a second I was fairly blinded and stunned, but I had the cork +out of that oil-can in no time, and very soon—you'd scarcely believe +it if I told you how soon—I had another placid mill-pond surroundin' +of me. I sat there a-pantin' and fannin' with my straw hat, for you'd +better believe I was flustered, and then I began to think how long it +would take me to make a line of mill-ponds clean across the head of the +bay, and how much oil it would need, and whether I had enough. So I +sat and calculated that if a tumblerful of oil would make a smooth +place about seven yards across, which I should say was the width of the +one I was in,—which I calculated by a measure of my eye as to how many +breadths of carpet it would take to cover it,—and if the bay was two +miles across betwixt our house and my sister-in-law's, and, although I +couldn't get the thing down to exact figures, I saw pretty soon that I +wouldn't have oil enough to make a level cuttin' through all those +mountainous billows, and besides, even if I had enough to take me +across, what would be the good of goin' if there wasn't any oil left to +fill my sister-in-law's lamp? +</P> + +<P> +"While I was thinkin' and calculatin' a perfectly dreadful thing +happened, which made me think if I didn't get out of this pretty soon +I'd find myself in a mighty risky predicament. The oil-can, which I +had forgotten to put the cork in, toppled over, and before I could grab +it every drop of the oil ran into the hind part of the boat, where it +was soaked up by a lot of dry dust that was there. No wonder my heart +sank when I saw this. Glancin' wildly around me, as people will do +when they are scared, I saw the smooth place I was in gettin' smaller +and smaller, for the kerosene was evaporating as it will do even off +woolen clothes if you give it time enough. The first pond I had come +out of seemed to be covered up, and the great, towerin', throbbin' +precipice of sea-water was a-closin' around me. +</P> + +<P> +"Castin' down my eyes in despair, I happened to look through the crack +in the bottom of the boat, and oh, what a blessed relief it was! for +down there everything was smooth and still, and I could see the sand on +the bottom, as level and hard, no doubt, as it was on the beach. +Suddenly the thought struck me that that bottom would give me the only +chance I had of gettin' out of the frightful fix I was in. If I could +fill that oil-can with air, and then puttin' it under my arm and takin' +a long breath if I could drop down on that smooth bottom, I might run +along toward shore, as far as I could, and then, when I felt my breath +was givin' out, I could take a pull at the oil-can and take another +run, and then take another pull and another run, and perhaps the can +would hold air enough for me until I got near enough to shore to wade +to dry land. To be sure, the sharks and other monsters were down +there, but then they must have been awfully frightened, and perhaps +they might not remember that man was their nat'ral enemy. Anyway, I +thought it would be better to try the smooth water passage down there +than stay and be swallowed up by the ragin' waves on top. +</P> + +<P> +"So I blew the can full of air and corked it, and then I tore up some +of the boards from the bottom of the boat so as to make a hole big +enough for me to get through,—and you sailormen needn't wriggle so +when I say that, for you all know a divin'-bell hasn't any bottom at +all and the water never comes in,—and so when I got the hole big +enough I took the oil-can under my arm, and was just about to slip down +through it when I saw an awful turtle a-walkin' through the sand at the +bottom. Now, I might trust sharks and swordfishes and sea-serpents to +be frightened and forget about their nat'ral enemies, but I never could +trust a gray turtle as big as a cart, with a black neck a yard long, +with yellow bags to its jaws, to forget anything or to remember +anything. I'd as lieve get into a bathtub with a live crab as to go +down there. It wasn't of no use even so much as thinkin' of it, so I +gave up that plan and didn't once look through that hole again." +</P> + +<P> +"And what did you do, madam?" asked Captain Bird, who was regarding her +with a face of stone. +</P> + +<P> +"I used electricity," she said "Now don't start as if you had a shock +of it. That's what I used. When I was younger than I was then, and +sometimes visited friends in the city, we often amused ourselves by +rubbing our feet on the carpet until we got ourselves so full of +electricity that we could put up our fingers and light the gas. So I +said to myself that if I could get full of electricity for the purpose +of lightin' the gas I could get full of it for other purposes, and so, +without losin' a moment, I set to work. I stood up on one of the +seats, which was dry, and rubbed the bottoms of my shoes backward and +forward on it with such violence and swiftness that they pretty soon +got warm and I began fillin' with electricity, and when I was fully +charged with it from my toes to the top of my head, I just sprang into +the water and swam ashore. Of course I couldn't sink, bein' full of +electricity." +</P> + +<P> +Captain Bird heaved a long sigh and rose to his feet, whereupon the +other mariners rose to their feet. "Madam," said Captain Bird, "what's +to pay for the supper and—the rest of the entertainment?" +</P> + +<P> +"The supper is twenty-five cents apiece," said the Widow Ducket, "and +everything else is free, gratis." +</P> + +<P> +Whereupon each mariner put his hand into his trousers pocket, pulled +out a silver quarter, and handed it to the widow. Then, with four +solemn "Good evenin's," they went out to the front gate. +</P> + +<P> +"Cast off, Captain Jenkinson," said Captain Bird, "and you, Captain +Burress, clew him up for'ard. You can stay in the bow, Captain +Sanderson, and take the sheet-lines. I'll go aft." +</P> + +<P> +All being ready, each of the elderly mariners clambered over a wheel, +and having seated themselves, they prepared to lay their course for +Cuppertown. +</P> + +<P> +But just as they were about to start, Captain Jenkinson asked that they +lay to a bit, and clambering down over his wheel, he reëntered the +front gate and went up to the door of the house, where the widow and +Dorcas were still standing. +</P> + +<P> +"Madam," said he, "I just came back to ask what became of your +brother-in-law through his wife's not bein' able to put no light in the +window?" +</P> + +<P> +"The storm drove him ashore on our side of the bay," said she, "and the +next mornin' he came up to our house, and I told him all that had +happened to me. And when he took our boat and went home and told that +story to his wife, she just packed up and went out West, and got +divorced from him. And it served him right, too." +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you, ma'am," said Captain Jenkinson, and going out of the gate, +he clambered up over the wheel, and the wagon cleared for Cuppertown. +</P> + +<P> +When the elderly mariners were gone, the Widow Ducket, still standing +in the door, turned to Dorcas. +</P> + +<P> +"Think of it!" she said. "To tell all that to me, in my own house! +And after I had opened my one jar of brandied peaches, that I'd been +keepin' for special company!" +</P> + +<P> +"In your own house!" ejaculated Dorcas. "And not one of them brandied +peaches left!" +</P> + +<P> +The widow jingled the four quarters in her hand before she slipped them +into her pocket. +</P> + +<P> +"Anyway, Dorcas," she remarked, "I think we can now say we are square +with all the world, and so let's go in and wash the dishes." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," said Dorcas, "we're square." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap08"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE COUNT AND THE WEDDING GUEST +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +By O. HENRY +</H4> + +<P CLASS="intro"> +Copyright 1907 by McClure, Phillips & Co. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +One evening when Andy Donovan went to dinner at his Second Avenue +boarding-house, Mrs. Scott introduced him to a new boarder, a young +lady, Miss Conway. Miss Conway was small and unobtrusive. She wore a +plain, snuffy-brown dress, and bestowed her interest, which seemed +languid, upon her plate. She lifted her diffident eyelids and shot one +perspicuous, judicial glance at Mr. Donovan, politely murmured his +name, and returned to her mutton. Mr. Donovan bowed with the grace and +beaming smile that were rapidly winning for him social, business and +political advancement, and erased the snuffy-brown one from the tablets +of his consideration. +</P> + +<P> +Two weeks later Andy was sitting on the front steps enjoying his cigar. +There was a soft rustle behind and above him, and Andy turned his +head—and had his head turned. +</P> + +<P> +Just coming out the door was Miss Conway. She wore a night-black dress +of <I>crêpe de—crêpe de</I>—oh, this thin black goods. Her hat was black, +and from it drooped and fluttered an ebon veil, filmy as a spider's +web. She stood on the top step and drew on black silk gloves. Not a +speck of white or a spot of color about her dress anywhere. Her rich +golden hair was drawn, with scarcely a ripple, into a shining, smooth +knot low on her neck. Her face was plain rather than pretty, but it +was now illuminated and made almost beautiful by her large gray eyes +that gazed above the houses across the street into the sky with an +expression of the most appealing sadness and melancholy. +</P> + +<P> +Gather the idea, girls—all black, you know, with the preference for +<I>crêpe de</I>—oh, <I>crêpe de Chine</I>—that's it. All black, and that sad, +faraway look, and the hair shining under the black veil (you have to be +a blonde, of course), and try to look as if, although your young life +had been blighted just as it was about to give a hop-skip-and-a-jump +over the threshold of life, a walk in the park might do you good, and +be sure to happen out the door at the right moment, and—oh, it'll +fetch 'em every time. But it's fierce, now, how cynical I am, ain't +it?—to talk about mourning costumes this way. +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Donovan suddenly reinscribed Miss Conway upon the tablets of his +consideration. He threw away the remaining inch-and-a-quarter of his +cigar, that would have been good for eight minutes yet, and quickly +shifted his center of gravity to his low-cut patent leathers. +</P> + +<P> +"It's a fine, clear evening, Miss Conway," he said; and if the Weather +Bureau could have heard the confident emphasis of his tones it would +have hoisted the square white signal and nailed it to the mast. +</P> + +<P> +"To them that has the heart to enjoy it, it is, Mr. Donovan," said Miss +Conway, with a sigh. +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Donovan in his heart cursed fair weather. Heartless weather! It +should hail and blow and snow to be consonant with the mood of Miss +Conway. +</P> + +<P> +"I hope none of your relatives—I hope you haven't sustained a loss?" +ventured Mr. Donovan. +</P> + +<P> +"Death has claimed," said Miss Conway, hesitating—"not a relative, but +one who—but I will not intrude my grief upon you, Mr. Donovan." +</P> + +<P> +"Intrude?" protested Mr. Donovan. "Why, say, Miss Conway, I'd be +delighted, that is, I'd be sorry—I mean I'm sure nobody could +sympathize with you truer than I would." +</P> + +<P> +Miss Conway smiled a little smile. And oh, it was sadder than her +expression in repose. +</P> + +<P> +"'Laugh, and the world laughs with you; weep, and they give you the +laugh,'" she quoted. +</P> + +<P> +"I have learned that, Mr. Donovan. I have no friends or acquaintances +in this city. But you have been kind to me. I appreciate it highly." +</P> + +<P> +He had passed her the pepper twice at the table. +</P> + +<P> +"It's tough to be alone in New York—that's a cinch," said Mr. Donovan. +"But, say—whenever this little old town does loosen up and get +friendly it goes the limit. Say you took a little stroll in the park, +Miss Conway—don't you think it might chase away some of your +mullygrubs? And if you'd allow me—" +</P> + +<P> +"Thanks, Mr. Donovan. I'd be pleased to accept of your escort if you +think the company of one whose heart is filled with gloom could be +anyways agreeable to you." +</P> + +<P> +Through the open gates of the iron-railed, old, downtown park, where +the elect once took the air, they strolled and found a quiet bench. +</P> + +<P> +There is this difference between the grief of youth and that of old +age: youth's burden is lightened by as much of it as another shares; +old age may give and give, but the sorrow remains the same. +</P> + +<P> +"He was my fiancé," confided Miss Conway, at the end of an hour. "We +were going to be married next spring. I don't want you to think that I +am stringing you, Mr. Donovan, but he was a real Count. He had an +estate and a castle in Italy. Count Fernando Mazzini was his name. I +never saw the beat of him for elegance. Papa objected, of course, and +once we eloped, but papa overtook us, and took us back. I thought sure +papa and Fernando would fight a duel. Papa has a livery business—in +P'kipsee, you know. +</P> + +<P> +"Finally, papa came around all right, and said we might be married next +spring. Fernando showed him proofs of his title and wealth, and then +went over to Italy to get the castle fixed up for us. Papa's very +proud, and when Fernando wanted to give me several thousand dollars for +my trousseau he called him down something awful. He wouldn't even let +me take a ring or any presents from him. And when Fernando sailed I +came to the city and got a position as cashier in a candy store. +</P> + +<P> +"Three days ago I got a letter from Italy, forwarded from P'kipsee, +saying that Fernando had been killed in a gondola accident. +</P> + +<P> +"That is why I am in mourning. My heart, Mr. Donovan, will remain +forever in his grave. I guess I am poor company, Mr. Donovan, but I +can not take any interest in no one. I should not care to keep you +from gaiety and your friends who can smile and entertain you. Perhaps +you would prefer to walk back to the house?" +</P> + +<P> +Now, girls, if you want to observe a young man hustle out after a pick +and shovel, just tell him that your heart is in some other fellow's +grave. Young men are grave-robbers by nature. Ask any widow. +Something must be done to restore that missing organ to weeping girls +in <I>crêpe de Chine</I>. Dead men certainly got the worse of it from all +sides. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm awful sorry," said Mr. Donovan gently. "No, we won't walk back to +the house just yet. And don't say you haven't no friends in this city, +Miss Conway. I'm awful sorry, and I want you to believe I'm your +friend, and that I'm awful sorry." +</P> + +<P> +"I've got his picture here in my locket," said Miss Conway, after +wiping her eyes with her handkerchief. "I never showed it to anybody, +but I will to you, Mr. Donovan, because I believe you to be a true +friend." +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Donovan gazed long and with much interest at the photograph in the +locket that Miss Conway opened for him. The face of Count Mazzini was +one to command interest. It was a smooth, intelligent, bright, almost +a handsome face—the face of a strong, cheerful man who might well be a +leader among his fellows. +</P> + +<P> +"I have a larger one, framed, in my room," said Miss Conway. "When we +return I will show you that. They are all I have to remind me of +Fernando. But he ever will be present in my heart, that's a sure +thing." +</P> + +<P> +A subtle task confronted Mr. Donovan—that of supplanting the +unfortunate Count in the heart of Miss Conway. This his admiration for +her determined him to do. But the magnitude of the undertaking did not +seem to weigh upon his spirits. The sympathetic but cheerful friend +was the role he essayed, and he played it so successfully that the next +half-hour found them conversing pensively across two plates of +ice-cream, though yet there was no diminution of the sadness in Miss +Conway's large gray eyes. +</P> + +<P> +Before they parted in the hall that evening she ran upstairs and +brought down the framed photograph wrapped lovingly in a white silk +scarf. Mr. Donovan surveyed it with inscrutable eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"He gave me this the night he left for Italy," said Miss Conway. "I +had one for the locket made from this." +</P> + +<P> +"A fine-looking man," said Mr. Donovan heartily. "How would it suit +you, Miss Conway, to give me the pleasure of your company to Coney next +Sunday afternoon?" +</P> + +<P> +A month later they announced their engagement to Mrs. Scott and the +other boarders. Miss Conway continued to wear black. +</P> + +<P> +A week after the announcement the two sat on the same bench in the +downtown park, while the fluttering leaves of the trees made a dim +kinetoscopic picture of them in the moonlight. But Donovan had worn a +look of abstracted gloom all day. He was so silent to-night that +love's lips could not keep back any longer the questions that love's +heart propounded. +</P> + +<P> +"What's the matter, Andy, you are so solemn and grouchy to-night?" +</P> + +<P> +"Nothing, Maggie." +</P> + +<P> +"I know better. Can't I tell? You never acted this way before. What +is it?" +</P> + +<P> +"It's nothing much, Maggie." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes it is, and I want to know. I'll bet it's some other girl you are +thinking about. All right. Why don't you go and get her if you want +her? Take your arm away, if you please." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll tell you then," said Andy wisely; "but I guess you won't +understand it exactly. You've heard of Mike Sullivan, haven't you? +'Big Mike' Sullivan, everybody calls him." +</P> + +<P> +"No, I haven't," said Maggie. "And I don't want to, if he makes you +act like this. Who is he?" +</P> + +<P> +"He's the biggest man in New York," said Andy, almost reverently. "He +can do about anything he wants to with Tammany or any other old thing +in the political line. He's a mile high and as broad as East River. +You say anything against Big Mike and you'll have a million men on your +collarbone in about two seconds. Why, he made a visit over to the old +country awhile back, and the kings took to their holes like rabbits. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, Big Mike's a friend of mine. I ain't more than deuce-high in +the district as far as influence goes, but Mike's as good a friend to a +little man, or a poor man, as he is to a big one. I met him to-day on +the Bowery, and what do you think he does? Comes up and shakes hands. +'Andy,' says he, 'I've been keeping cases on you. You've been putting +in some good licks over on your side of the street, and I'm proud of +you. What'll you take to drink?' He takes a cigar, and I take a +highball. I told him I was going to get married in two weeks. 'Andy,' +says he, 'send me an invitation, so I'll keep in mind of it, and I'll +come to the wedding.' That's what Big Mike says to me; and he always +does what he says. +</P> + +<P> +"You don't understand it, Maggie, but I'd have one of my hands cut off +to have Big Mike Sullivan at our wedding. It would be the proudest day +of my life. When he goes to a man's wedding there's a guy being +married that's made for life. Now, that's why I've maybe been looking +sore to-night." +</P> + +<P> +"Why don't you invite him, then, if he's so much to the mustard?" said +Maggie lightly. +</P> + +<P> +"There's a reason why I can't," said Andy sadly. "There's a reason why +he mustn't be there. Don't ask me what it is, for I can't tell you." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I don't care," said Maggie. "It's something about politics, of +course. But it's no reason why you can't smile at me." +</P> + +<P> +"Maggie," said Andy presently, "do you think as much of me as you did +of your—as you did of the Count Mazzini?" +</P> + +<P> +He waited a long time, but Maggie did not reply. And then, suddenly +she leaned against his shoulder and began to cry—to cry and shake with +sobs, holding his arm tightly and wetting the <I>crêpe de Chine</I> with +tears. +</P> + +<P> +"There, there, there!" soothed Andy, putting aside his own trouble. +"And what is it now?" +</P> + +<P> +"Andy," sobbed Maggie, "I've lied to you and you'll never marry me, or +love me any more. But I feel that I've got to tell. Andy, there never +was so much as the little finger of a count. I never had a beau in my +life. But all the other girls had, and they talked about 'em, and that +seemed to make the fellows like 'em more. And, Andy, I look swell in +black—you know I do. So I went out to a photograph store and bought +that picture, and had a little one made for my locket, and made up all +that story about the Count and about his being killed, so I could wear +black. And nobody can love a liar and you'll shake me, Andy, and I'll +die for shame. Oh, there never was anybody I liked but you—and that's +all." +</P> + +<P> +But instead of being pushed away she found Andy's arm folding her +closely. She looked up and saw his face cleared and smiling. +</P> + +<P> +"Could you—could you forgive me, Andy?" +</P> + +<P> +"Sure," said Andy. "It's all right about that. Back to the cemetery +for the Count. You've straightened everything out, Maggie. I was in +hopes you would before the wedding-day. Bully girl!" +</P> + +<P> +"Andy," said Maggie with a somewhat shy smile, after she had been +thoroughly assured of forgiveness, "did you believe all that story +about the Count?" +</P> + +<P> +"Well, not to any large extent," said Andy, reaching for his +cigar-case; "because it's Big Mike Sullivan's picture you've got in +that locket of yours." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap09"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +MISS TOOKER'S WEDDING GIFT +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +By JOHN KENDRICK BANGS +</H4> + +<P CLASS="intro"> +Copyright 1909 by J. B. Lippincott Company. +</P> + +<BR> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +I +</H4> + +<P> +Van Buren tossed his gloves impatiently on the table, removed his +overcoat, and sat down before the fire. He was apparently deeply +concerned about something, for when Niki, his Japanese valet, entered +the room and placed the whisky and soda on the little table at his +side, Van Buren paid no more attention to him than he would to a +vagrant sunmote that crossed his path. Long and steadily he gazed into +the broad fireplace, watching the dancing flames at play, pausing only +to light his pipe, upon which he pulled fiercely. Finally he spoke, +leaning forward and to all intents and purposes addressing the andirons. +</P> + +<P> +"Confound the money!" he said impatiently. "I wish to thunder the +Governor had left it to some orphan asylum or to found a Chair in +Choctaw at some New England university, instead of to me—then I might +have made something of myself. Here am I twenty-seven years old and +all the fame I ever got came from leading cotillions at Newport, and my +sole contribution to the common weal has consisted of the fines I've +paid into the public treasury for exceeding the speed limit. Life! +I've seen a lot of it—haven't I, in this empty social shell I've been +born into!" +</P> + +<P> +He paused for a moment and poured a stiff four fingers of whisky into a +glass at his side. +</P> + +<P> +"Bah!" he shuddered as the odor of it greeted his nostrils. "You're a +poor kind of fuel for such an engine as I might have been if I'd been +started on the right track. By Jove! Ethel is right. What good am I? +What have I ever done to make myself worth while or to show that I have +any character in me that is a jot better than that of any of the rest +of our poor stenciled, gold-plated society." +</P> + +<P> +He looked at the glass and made a wry face. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll cut <I>you</I> out anyhow," he said, pushing the liquor away from him. +"That's something. Niki!" he called. +</P> + +<P> +The inscrutable Niki obeyed the summons on the word. +</P> + +<P> +"Take that stuff away and hereafter don't bring it unless I call for +it," said Van Buren. "Any letters?" +</P> + +<P> +"One," said Niki. "A messenger brought him at eight o'clock. I get +it." +</P> + +<P> +Niki went to the escritoire and picked up the little square of blue +envelope lying thereon and handed it to Van Buren. +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you, Niki. You may go now—I can get along without you +until—well, say noon to-morrow. Good night." +</P> + +<P> +"Good night," said Niki, and withdrew noiselessly. +</P> + +<P> +"Humph!" ejaculated Van Buren. "Even he is worth more to the world +than I am. He does something, even if it is only for me, which is more +than I can do. I don't seem to be able to do anything even for myself." +</P> + +<P> +With a sigh of discontent, Van Buren poked the fire for moment and then +settled himself in the armchair, holding the letter before his eyes as +he did so. +</P> + +<P> +"From Ethel," he said. "Probably my death-warrant. Oh, well—why not? +If she won't have me, she won't, that's all. Only one more drop of +bitters in my cocktail. I may as well read it anyhow. It's like a +cold plunge, and I hate to take it, but—here goes." +</P> + +<P> +He tore open the envelope and, extracting the note, read it: +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Dear Harry—I have been thinking things over since you left me this +afternoon and I have changed my mind. [Van Buren's eyes lighted with +hope.] I <I>do</I> care for you, but I can not see much happiness ahead for +either of us unless one or the other of us changes radically. It may +be my fault, but I can not forget that if I married a man I should want +always to be proud of him, and ambitious for his success in the world. +If I were not ambitious, I could be proud of you just as you are, for I +know you for the fine fellow that you are. While you do none of the +things that I should love to have my future husband do, you at least do +none of those other things that men make a practise of, and that mean +so much misery for their womenkind, whether they show it or not. But, +dear Harry, why can you not make yourself more of a man than you are? +Why be content with just the splendid foundation, and let it lie, +gradually disintegrating because you have failed to rear upon it some +kind of a superstructure that would be in keeping with what rests +beneath? You can—I know you can—and that is why I have decided to +withdraw what appeared to be my final answer of this afternoon, and, if +you want it, to give you another chance. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +"<I>If</I> I want it!" ejaculated Van Buren. "Lord knows how I want it!" +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Come to me at the end of a year and show me the record of something +accomplished, that lifts you out this awful social rut we have all +managed to get into, and my "no" of this afternoon may be turned into a +"yes," and the misery of my heart be turned to joy. Of course you will +say that it is all very easy for me to write this, and to tell you to +go out and do something, but that the hard thing would be to tell you +what to go out and do—and you will be perfectly right. General advice +is the easiest thing in the world, but the specific, constructive +suggestion is very different. So I will give you the specific +suggestion, and it is this: Why do you not write a novel? You used in +your days at Harvard to write clever skits for the "Lampoon," and one +or two of your little stories in the "Advocate" showed that you at +least know how to put words and sentences together in a pleasing way, +even if the themes of your stories were slight and the plots not very +intricate. Do this, Harry. Surely with your experience in life you +can think of something to write about. Apply yourself to this work +during the coming year, and when your book is published and has proven +a success, come to me again, and maybe I shall have some good news to +tell you. +</P> + +<P> +It may be, dear Harry, that you will not think it worth while. For +myself, I hardly think the prize is worth the winning, but you seem to +feel differently about that, if I may judge from what you said this +afternoon, and you did seem to mean it all, every word of it, you poor +boy. +</P> + +<P> +We shall meet, of course, as frequently as ever, but until the year is +up, and that a year of achievement, you must not speak of the matter +again, and must regard me as I shall hope in any event always to remain, +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +Your devoted friend,<BR> + ETHEL TOOKER.<BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Van Buren laughed nervously, as he finished the letter, and again lit +his pipe, which had gone out while he read. +</P> + +<P> +"Write a novel, eh?" he muttered with a grin. "A nice, easy task that. +A hundred and fifty thousand words, all meaning something. Ah me! Why +the dickens wasn't I born in an age when knighthood was in flower and +my Lady Fayre set Sir Hubert some easy task like putting on a tin suit +and going out on the highway and swatting another potted Sir Bedivere +on the head with an antique ax? The Quest of the Golden Fleece was an +easy stunt alongside of writing a novel these times, and I fear I'm +more of a Jason than a Henry James!" +</P> + +<P> +He turned to his desk, and the next five minutes were devoted to the +writing of an acknowledgment of Miss Tooker's letter. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +I thank you for your suggestion [he wrote], and I truly think it will +bear thinking over. Any suggestion that makes for the realization of +my fondest hopes will bear thinking over, and I am going to do what I +can. I wish you had set me an easier task, however, like getting +myself appointed Ambassador to England, or Excise Commissioner, for +honestly I do not feel the call of the pen. Nevertheless, my dearest +Ethel, just to prove to you how honestly devoted to you I am, I shall +to-morrow lay in a stock of pads, a brand new pen, and a new Roosevelt +Dictionary to guide me into the short cut to success via the Reformed +Spelling Route. I have already got my leading characters—my heroine +and my hero. She is the sweetest, fairest, dearest girl in the world, +and is to be named Ethel. The hero is to be a miserable, down-and-out +young cub of a millionaire who, having been brought up in a hot-house +atmosphere, never had a chance when exposed to the chilling blasts of +the world. She, of course, will redeem poor Harry—that is to be my +hero's name—from the pitfalls of bridge, Newport, and the demon Rum. +And, of course, she will marry him in the end. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +Ever your devoted<BR> + HARRY.<BR> +</P> + +<P> +P. S. As expressive of my real feelings, my story will be written in +blue ink. +</P> + +<BR> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +II +</H4> + +<P> +Late one evening, six months later, Van Buren rose wearily from his +desk, but with a light of triumph in his eye. +</P> + +<P> +"There!" he said. "That is done. 'The City of Credit' is at last <I>un +fait accompli</I>. One hundred and thirty-seven thousand five hundred and +sixty-seven words, and all about Newport, with a bit of the life of its +thriving suburbs, New York and Boston, thrown in to relieve the +sordidness of it all." +</P> + +<P> +He gazed affectionately at the pile of manuscript before him. +</P> + +<P> +"It hasn't been half bad, after all," he said. "The first ten thousand +words came like water from a fire hose, the second ten thousand were +pure dentistry, tooth-pulling extraordinary, and the rest of it—well, +it is queer how when you get interested in shoveling coal how easy it +all seems. And now for the hardest end of the job. To find a +publisher who is weak-minded enough to print it." +</P> + +<P> +This indeed proved much the hardest part of Van Buren's work, for the +reluctance of the large publishing houses of New York and Boston to +place their imprint upon the title-page of "The City of Credit" became +painfully evident to the youthful author. The manuscript came back to +Van Buren with a frequency that was more than ominous. +</P> + +<P> +"I think," he remarked ruefully to himself upon the occasion of its +sixth rejection, "that I have discovered the principle of perpetual +motion. If there were only enough publishers in the world to last +through all eternity, I could keep this manuscript going forever." +</P> + +<P> +Days passed and with no glimmer of hope, until one morning at a time +when "The City of Credit" was about due for its thirteenth reappearance +on his desk Van Buren found in its stead a letter from Hutchins & +Waterbury, of Boston, apprising him of the fact that his novel had been +read and was so well liked that "our Mr. Waterbury will be pleased to +have Mr. Van Buren call to discuss a possible arrangement under which +the firm would be willing to undertake its publication." +</P> + +<P> +"Good Lord!" cried Van Buren as he read the letter over for the third +time, even then barely crediting the possibilities of success that now +loomed before him. "And Boston people, too! Will I call! Niki, pack +my suit-case at once, and engage a seat for me on the Knickerbocker +Limited." +</P> + +<P> +The following morning an interview between "our Mr. Waterbury" and Van +Buren took place in the firm's private office on Tremont Street, +Boston. It appeared that while the readers of the firm of Hutchins & +Waterbury had unanimously condemned the book, Mr. Waterbury, himself, +having read it, rather thought it might have a living chance. +</P> + +<P> +"Some portions of your narrative are brilliant, and some of them are +otherwise, Mr. Van Buren," said Mr. Waterbury frankly. "But +considering the authorship of the book and that it is a description of +Newport life by one who is a part of its innermost circle, I am +inclined to think it will prove interesting to the public. Your +picture of the social wheels within wheels is so intimate, and I judge +so accurate, that it would attract attention." +</P> + +<P> +"I am glad you think so," said Van Buren, with a dry throat—the idea +that his book might be published after all was really overpowering. +</P> + +<P> +"On the other hand, the judgment of our readers is so unanimously +adverse that Mr. Hutchins and I feel the need of proceeding cautiously. +Now, what would you say to our publishing the book on—ah—on your +account, as it were?" +</P> + +<P> +"You want me to—" began Van Buren. +</P> + +<P> +"To pay for the plates and advertising," said Mr. Waterbury. "We will +stand for the paper and the binding, and will act as your agents in the +distribution of the book, accounting to you for every copy printed and +sold." +</P> + +<P> +"Is—is that quite <I>en regle</I>?" asked Van Buren dubiously. +</P> + +<P> +"It is quite customary," replied Mr. Waterbury. "In fact, ninety per +cent of our business is conducted upon that basis." +</P> + +<P> +"I see," said Van Buren. +</P> + +<P> +"You hand us your check for twenty-five hundred dollars to cover the +expenses I have specified," continued the astute publisher, "and we +will publish your book, allowing you a royalty of fifty per cent on +every copy sold." +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose the first edition would be—" said Van Buren hesitatingly. +</P> + +<P> +"Five hundred copies," said Waterbury. "The smaller your first +edition, the sooner you are likely to go into a second, and, as you +know, it is a great advantage for a book to go into a second edition +quickly, if only for advertising purposes. Think it over, and let me +know this afternoon if you can. I have to leave for Chicago to-night, +and if we are to have 'The City of Credit' ready for the autumn trade, +we should begin work on it right away." +</P> + +<P> +"I understand," said Van Buren. "Well—I—I guess it's all right. +It's only the principle of the thing—but if, as you say, it is quite +customary—why, yes. I'll give you my check now. Do you want it +certified?" +</P> + +<P> +"That will not be at all necessary, Mr. Van Buren," said Waterbury +magnanimously. "We are quite aware that your own signature to a check +is a sufficient certification." +</P> + +<P> +The afternoon train for Newport carried Van Buren back to the social +capital with a contract in his pocket, signed by Messrs. Hutchins & +Waterbury, assuring the early publication of "The City of Credit," but +in view of certain of its financial stipulations, jubilant as he was +over the success of his first real step toward fame, Van Buren did not +show it to Miss Tooker, as he might have done had it contained no +reference to a check on the Tenth National Bank of New York calling for +the payment of two thousand five hundred dollars to the Boston firm of +publishers. +</P> + +<BR> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +III +</H4> + +<P> +In September "The City of Credit" was published, and widely advertised +by Messrs. Hutchins & Waterbury, and Van Buren took particular pains to +secure the first copy from the press and to send it by messenger with a +suitable inscription and a note to Miss Tooker. +</P> + +<P> +"I send you my book," he wrote, "not because I think it is worth +reading, but for the double purpose of showing you that I have tried my +best to fulfil your wishes, and to assure the work of at least the +circulation of one copy. It has all of my heart in it." +</P> + +<P> +For one reason or another, doubtless because there were quite five +hundred other novels of a similar character put forth about the same +time, by the end of October the world had not yet been consumed by any +conflagration of Van Buren's lighting. +</P> + +<P> +"The book hangs fire," said Mr. Waterbury when Van Buren called upon +him at his Boston office to inquire how things were going. "We printed +five hundred copies, and this morning's report shows two hundred and +thirty still on hand. A hundred and sixty were sent for review." +</P> + +<P> +"I wish they hadn't been," said Van Buren, with a rueful smile. "They +have provided just one hundred and sixty separate pieces of fuel for +the critics to roast me with. Have there been any favorable reviews of +the book?" +</P> + +<P> +"None that I have seen—but don't you worry about that," replied Mr. +Waterbury comfortingly. "It's the counting-room, not the critics, that +tell the story. Something may happen yet to pull us out." +</P> + +<P> +"What, for instance?" asked Van Buren +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I don't know," said Waterbury. "You might do something +sensational and get it in the papers. That would help. It's up to +you, Mr. Van Buren." +</P> + +<P> +"I guess I'm all in," said Van Buren to himself as he walked down +Tremont Street. "Up to me to do something—by Jove!" he interrupted +himself abruptly. He had suddenly espied a copy of "The City of +Credit" in a shop window. "Up to me, is it? Well, I think I shall +rise to the occasion and not by doing anything sensational either." +</P> + +<P> +He entered the shop. +</P> + +<P> +"I want six copies of 'The City of Credit,'" he said quietly to the +salesman. "It's a first-class story. Much of a demand for it?" +</P> + +<P> +"No," said the salesman. "We have only the window copy, and we've had +that over a month. I can get them for you, however." +</P> + +<P> +"All right," said Van Buren. "Just send them to Charles H. Harney, The +Helicon Club, New York. I'll pay for them now." +</P> + +<P> +Van Buren paid his bill, and, returning to the street, hailed a hansom. +</P> + +<P> +"Take me to some good book-shop," he said to the cabby. +</P> + +<P> +Instanter he was whirled around into Winter Street, where stands one of +Boston's most famous literary distributing centers. +</P> + +<P> +"Have you 'The City of Credit'?" he asked the salesman. +</P> + +<P> +"I think we have a copy in stock," replied the latter. "If we haven't, +we can get it for you." +</P> + +<P> +"Do so, please," said Van Buren. "I want a dozen copies—send them by +express to Charles H. Harney, The Helicon Club, New York. How much?" +</P> + +<P> +"It's a dollar and a half book, I think," said the clerk. "The +discount will make it $1.20—a dozen, did you say? Twenty-five cents +expressage—that will make it $14.65." +</P> + +<P> +Van Buren paid up without a whimper. Once in the hansom again, he +called up through the little hole in the top. +</P> + +<P> +"Isn't there any other book-shop in town where I can get what I want?" +he demanded. +</P> + +<P> +"There's a dozen of 'em," replied the cabby. +</P> + +<P> +"Then go to them all," said Van Buren. +</P> + +<P> +That night when Van Buren started for New York he had purchased a +hundred and fifty copies of "The City of Credit," and had ordered them +all to be addressed to the clerk at the Helicon Club, with whom, upon +his arrival in town, he arranged for their immediate reshipment to the +Harrison Safety Deposit Storage Company on Forty-second Street. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm going to have my happiness, if I have to buy it," Van Buren +muttered doggedly, as he crept into bed shortly after midnight. And +then, tossing sleeplessly in his bed and at last rejoicing in the +possession of his late father's millions to back him in his enterprise, +he laid the foundations of a plan comparable only to that of the Wheat +King who corners the market, or the man of Cotton who loads himself up +with more bales of that useful commodity than all the fertile acres of +the South could raise in seven seasons. Orders were despatched by wire +and by mail to all the booksellers in the land whose names and +addresses Van Buren could get hold of. Department stores were put +under contribution and their stock commandeered, and one of the biggest +booms in the whole history of literature set in. +</P> + +<P> +"The City of Credit" went into its second, fifth, twentieth, fiftieth +large edition. Hutchins & Waterbury wrote Van Buren stating that a +sudden turn in the market had made his book one of the six best sellers +not only of this century but of all centuries. Their presses were +seething to the point of white heat with the copies of "The City of +Credit" needed to supply the demand; their binders were working day and +night with a double force, and their shipping department was pretty +nearly swamped with the strain put upon it. "Your royalty check on +January 1st will be the fattest in the land," wrote Waterbury in a +moment of enthusiasm. "We are thinking of sending our staff of readers +to the lunatic asylum and getting an entirely new set. An order for +four thousand has come in from Chicago this morning. St. Louis wants +fifteen hundred, and pretty nearly every other able-bodied town in the +country is asking for from one to one hundred and fifty." By Christmas +time, if the publishers' announcements were to be believed, "The City +of Credit" had attained to the enormous sale of three hundred and fifty +thousand, and Van Buren was in receipt of a letter from a literary +periodical asking for his photograph for publication in its February +issue. This brought him a realization of the fact that he might now +fairly claim to be considered a literary success. At any rate, he felt +that he had now a right to approach Miss Tooker with a fair prospect of +receiving from her a favorable answer to the question which she had a +year before left an open one. +</P> + +<P> +And events showed that his feeling was justified, for two days later he +enjoyed the blissful sensation of finding himself the accepted lover of +the woman he had tried so hard to please. +</P> + +<P> +"Is it to be—yes?" he whispered, as they sat together in the +conservatory of her father's city house. +</P> + +<P> +"It has—always been—yes," she replied softly, and then what happened +is not for your eyes or mine. Suffice it to say that Van Buren moved +immediately from sordid old New York to become a dweller in the higher +altitudes of Elysium. +</P> + +<P> +Incidentally the boom in "The City of Credit" stopped almost as +suddenly as it had begun. There was nobody apparently who felt called +upon to throw in the necessary number of dollars to sustain an already +over-stimulated market, which puzzled Messrs. Hutchins & Waterbury +exceedingly. They had hoped to live for the balance of their days upon +the profits of their World's Best Seller. +</P> + +<BR> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +IV +</H4> + +<P> +As the spring approached and the day set for Miss Tooker's wedding to +Van Buren came nearer, the latter found himself daily becoming more and +more a prey to conscience. There was a decidedly large fly in the +amber of his happiness, for as he viewed the part he had played in the +forced success of "The City of Credit" he began to see it in its true +light. The first of March brought him his royalty check from Hutchins +& Waterbury, and it was, as had been predicted, gratifyingly large, and +reduced materially what he had called his "campaign expenses." In the +same mail, however, was a bill from the Storage Company, in one of +whose spacious chambers there reposed more copies of his novel than he +liked to think of—over 250,000—the actual sales had been 260,000 in +spite of the published announcements of a higher figure. The firm had +thirty or forty thousand on hand, printed in a moment of confident +enthusiasm when the flurry was at its height. Both communications +brought before Van Buren's mind's eye all too vividly the specter of +his duplicity, and he was too much of a man of conscience to be able to +put it lightly aside. He tried to console himself with the idea that +all is fair in love and war, but he could not, and his remorse caused +him many a sleepless night. Finally—it was on the eve of the posting +of the wedding invitations—scruple overcame him, and he resolved that +he could not honestly lead his bride to the altar with such a record of +deceit upon his escutcheon, especially in view of the fact that it was +through this deceit that his happiness had been won. +</P> + +<P> +"It is better to lose her before the ceremony than after it," he told +himself, and, bitter though the confidence might be, he made up his +mind to tell Miss Tooker everything. "Only, I must break it gently," +he observed. +</P> + +<P> +With this difficult errand in mind, he called upon his fiancée, and, +after the usual greeting, he started in on his confession. He had +hardly begun it, however, when his courage failed him, and with the +oozing of that his words failed him also. He did have the courage, +however, to seek to reveal the exact situation in another way. +</P> + +<P> +"Ethel dear," he said, awkwardly fumbling his gloves, "I want to show +you something. I have a—a little surprise for you." +</P> + +<P> +The girl eyed him narrowly. +</P> + +<P> +"For me?" she said. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," he answered. "The fact is, it's—it's a sort of wedding present +I have for you, and I think you ought to see it before—well, <I>now</I>. +Will you go?" +</P> + +<P> +Miss Tooker was interested at once, and, taking a hansom, they were +driven to the Harrison Storage Warehouse on Forty-second Street Arrived +there, Van Buren led her to the elevator and thence up to the small +room in which lay the corroding and tell-tale packages—an enormous +bulk—that were slowly but surely eating up his happiness. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, Harry!" she cried as she gazed in bewilderment at the huge pile +of unopened bundles. "Are these all for me?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," gulped Van Buren, his face flaming. +</P> + +<P> +"But—what do they contain?" she asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Two hundred and fifty thousand copies of my—my book—'The City of +Credit,'" said Van Buren, his eyes cast down. +</P> + +<P> +"You mean that you—" she began. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, it's exactly that, Ethel. I—I bought 'em all to—well, to boom +the sales and to—make a name for myself in the world," he said +sheepishly, "or rather for you—but I suppose now that you know—-" +</P> + +<P> +"Then all this tremendous sale was arranged between you and your +publishers to deceive me?" she asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Not at all," protested the unhappy Van Buren. "On the contrary, I did +it all myself. Hutchins & Waterbury don't know any more about it than +you did an hour ago. No one knows—except you and I." +</P> + +<P> +Van Buren paused. +</P> + +<P> +"I could not let you marry me without knowing what I had done," he +said. "It would not be fair to—to our future." +</P> + +<P> +"Tell me all about it," she said quietly, and Van Buren made his +confession complete. He told her of his interview with Waterbury—how +the latter had told him his book had fallen flat; how it was "up to +him" to do something; how a sight of a single copy of "The City of +Credit" in the Tremont Street shop window had tempted him first into a +retail fall which had grown ultimately into a wholesale "crime"—as he +put it. He did not spare himself in the least degree, humiliating as +the narration of his story was to him. +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose it is all up with me now," he said ruefully, when he had +finished. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know," said Ethel quietly. "I don't know, Harry. Perhaps. +Take me home, please. I want to show you something." +</P> + +<P> +The drive back to the Tooker mansion was taken in silence. Van Buren +despised himself too strongly to be able to speak, and Miss Tooker had +fallen into a deep reverie which the poor fellow at her side feared +meant irrevocable ruin to his hopes. +</P> + +<P> +"Come in," said Miss Tooker gravely, as the cab drew up at the house. +"I want to take you up into our attic storeroom, and then ask you a +plain question, Harry, and then I want you to answer that question +simply and truthfully." +</P> + +<P> +Marveling much, Van Buren permitted himself to be led to the topmost +floor of Miss Tooker's house. +</P> + +<P> +"Look in there," said she, opening the door of the storeroom. "Do you +see those packages?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," he said. "They look very much like mine, only they're fewer." +</P> + +<P> +"Do you know what they contain?" she asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Books?" queried Van Buren, entering the room and tapping one of the +bundles. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes—yours—your books—five thousand three hundred and ten copies of +'The City of Credit,' Harry," she said, with a rueful smile. +</P> + +<P> +"You—" he ejaculated hoarsely. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, I bought them all. Some in Newport, some in New York, some at +Lenox—oh, everywhere! Now, tell me this," she interrupted. "Do you +suppose that I would condemn you for doing on a large scale what I have +been doing on a smaller scale ever since last November?" +</P> + +<P> +A ray of hope dawned in Van Buren's eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"Ethel!" he cried, seising her by the hand. "You bought all those—for +me?" +</P> + +<P> +"I certainly did, Harry," she said quietly. "With my pin money, and my +bridge money and all the other kinds of money that I could wheedle out +of my dear old daddy. But answer me. Have I the right to sit in +judgment on you—" +</P> + +<P> +"Not by a long shot!" cried Van Buren. "It would be an act of the most +consummate hypocrisy." +</P> + +<P> +"That is the way I look at it, dear," she whispered, and then—well, +all I have to say is that I don't believe anything like what happened +at that precise moment ever happened in an attic storeroom before. +</P> + +<P> +And the wedding invitations were mailed that very evening. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap10"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE FABLE OF THE TWO MANDOLIN PLAYERS <BR> +AND THE WILLING PERFORMER +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +By GEORGE ADE +</H4> + +<P CLASS="intro"> +Copyright 1899 by Herbert S. Stone & Co. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +A very attractive Débutante knew two Young Men, who called on her every +Thursday Evening and brought their Mandolins along. They were +Conventional Young Men, of the Kind that you see wearing Spring +Overcoats in the Clothing Advertisements. One was named Fred, and the +other was Eustace. +</P> + +<P> +The Mothers of the Neighborhood often remarked "What Perfect Manners +Fred and Eustace have!" Merely as an aside it may be added that Fred +and Eustace were more Popular with the Mothers than they were with the +Younger Set, although no one could say a Word against either of them. +Only it was rumored in Keen Society that they didn't Belong. The Fact +that they went Calling in a Crowd, and took their Mandolins along, may +give the Acute Reader some Idea of the Life that Fred and Eustace held +out to the Young Women of their Acquaintance. +</P> + +<P> +The Débutante's name was Myrtle. Her Parents were very Watchful, and +did not encourage her to receive Callers, except such as were known to +be Exemplary Young Men. Fred and Eustace were a few of those who +escaped the Black List. Myrtle always appeared to be glad to see them, +and they regarded her as a Darned Swell Girl. +</P> + +<P> +Fred's Cousin came from St. Paul on a Visit; and one Day, in the +Street, he saw Myrtle, and noticed that Fred tipped his Hat, and gave +her a Stage Smile. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, Queen of Sheba!" exclaimed the Cousin from St. Paul, whose name +was Gus, as he stood stock still and watched Myrtle's Reversible Plaid +disappear around a Corner. "She's a Bird. Do you know her well?" +</P> + +<P> +"I know her Quite Well," replied Fred, coldly. "She is a Charming +Girl." +</P> + +<P> +"She is all of that. You're a great Describer. And now what Night are +you going to take me around to Call on her?" +</P> + +<P> +Fred very naturally Hemmed and Hawed. It must be remembered that +Myrtle was a member of an Excellent Family, and had been schooled in +the Proprieties, and it was not to be supposed that she would crave the +Society of slangy old Gus, who had an abounding Nerve, and furthermore +was as Fresh as the Mountain Air. +</P> + +<P> +He was the Kind of Fellow who would see a Girl twice, and then, upon +meeting her the Third Time, he would go up and straighten her Cravat +for her, and call her by her First Name. +</P> + +<P> +Put him into a Strange Company—en route to a Picnic—and by the time +the Baskets were unpacked he would have a Blonde all to himself, and +she would have traded her Fan for his College Pin. +</P> + +<P> +If a Fair-Looker on the Street happened to glance at him Hard he would +run up and seize her by the Hand, and convince her that they had Met. +And he always Got Away with it, too. +</P> + +<P> +In a Department Store, while awaiting for the Cash Boy to come back +with the Change, he would find out the Girl's Name, her Favorite +Flower, and where a Letter would reach her. +</P> + +<P> +Upon entering a Parlor Car at St. Paul he would select a Chair next to +the Most Promising One in Sight, and ask her if she cared to have the +Shade lowered. +</P> + +<P> +Before the Train cleared the Yards he would have the Porter bringing a +Foot-Stool for the Lady. +</P> + +<P> +At Hastings he would be asking her if she wanted Something to Read. +</P> + +<P> +At Red Wing he would be telling her that she resembled Maxine Elliott, +and showing her his Watch, left to him by his Grandfather, a Prominent +Virginian. +</P> + +<P> +At La Crosse he would be reading the Menu Card to her, and telling her +how different it is when you have Some One to join you in a Bite. +</P> + +<P> +At Milwaukee he would go out and buy a Bouquet for her, and when they +rode into Chicago they would be looking but of the same Window, and he +would be arranging for her Baggage with the Transfer Man. After that +they would be Old Friends. +</P> + +<P> +Now, Fred and Eustace had been at School with Gus, and they had seen +his Work, and they were not disposed to Introduce him into One of the +most Exclusive Homes in the City. +</P> + +<P> +They had known Myrtle for many Years; but they did not dare to Address +her by her First Name, and they were Positive that if Gus attempted any +of his usual Tactics with her she would be Offended; and, naturally +enough, they would be Blamed for bringing him to the House. +</P> + +<P> +But Gus insisted. He said he had seen Myrtle, and she Suited him from +the Ground up, and he proposed to have Friendly Doings with her. At +last they told him they would take him if he promised to Behave. Fred +warned him that Myrtle would frown down any Attempt to be Familiar on +Short Acquaintance, and Eustace said that as long as he had known +Myrtle he had never Presumed to be Free and Forward with her. He had +simply played the Mandolin. That was as Far Along as he had ever got. +</P> + +<P> +Gus told them not to Worry about him. All he asked was a Start. He +said he was a Willing Performer, but as yet he never had been +Disqualified for Crowding. +</P> + +<P> +Fred and Eustace took this to mean that he would not Overplay his +Attentions, so they escorted him to the House. +</P> + +<P> +As soon as he had been Presented, Gus showed her where to sit on the +Sofa, then he placed himself about Six Inches away and began to Buzz, +looking her straight in the Eye. He said that when he first saw her he +Mistook her for Miss Prentice, who was said to be the Most Beautiful +Girl in St. Paul, only, when he came closer, he saw that it couldn't be +Miss Prentice, because Miss Prentice didn't have such Lovely Hair. +Then he asked her the Month of her Birth and told her Fortune, thereby +coming nearer to Holding her Hand within Eight Minutes than Eustace had +come in a Lifetime. +</P> + +<P> +"Play something, Boys," he Ordered, just as if he had paid them Money +to come along and make Music for him. +</P> + +<P> +They unlimbered their Mandolins and began to play a Sousa March. He +asked Myrtle if she had seen the New Moon. She replied that she had +not, so they went Outside. +</P> + +<P> +When Fred and Eustace finished the first Piece, Gus appeared at the +open Window, and asked them to play "The Georgia Camp-Meeting," which +had always been one of his Favorites. +</P> + +<P> +So they played that, and when they had Concluded there came a Voice +from the Outer Darkness, and it was the Voice of Myrtle. She said: +"I'll tell you what to Play; play the Intermezzo." +</P> + +<P> +Fred and Eustace exchanged Glances. They began to Perceive that they +had been backed into a Siding. With a few Potted Palms in front of +them, and two Cards from the Union, they would have been just the same +as a Hired Orchestra. +</P> + +<P> +But they played the Intermezzo and felt Peevish. Then they went to the +Window and looked out. Gus and Myrtle were sitting in the Hammock, +which had quite a Pitch toward the Center. Gus had braced himself by +Holding to the back of the Hammock. He did not have his Arm around +Myrtle, but he had it Extended in a Line parallel with her Back. What +he had done wouldn't Justify a Girl in saying, "Sir!" but it started a +Real Scandal with Fred and Eustace. They saw that the Only Way to Get +Even with her was to go Home without saying "Good Night." So they +slipped out the Side Door, shivering with Indignation. +</P> + +<P> +After that, for several Weeks, Gus kept Myrtle so Busy that she had no +Time to think of considering other Candidates. He sent Books to her +Mother, and allowed the Old Gentleman to take Chips away from him at +Poker. +</P> + +<P> +They were Married in the Autumn, and Father-in-Law took Gus into the +Firm, saying that he had needed a good Pusher for a Long Time. +</P> + +<P> +At the Wedding the two Mandolin Players were permitted to act as Ushers. +</P> + +<P> +MORAL: <I>To get a fair Trial of Speed use a Pace-Maker</I>. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap11"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE FABLE OF THE PREACHER WHO FLEW HIS KITE, <BR> +BUT NOT BECAUSE HE WISHED TO DO SO +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +By GEORGE ADE +</H4> + +<P CLASS="intro"> +Copyright 1899 by Herbert S. Stone & Co. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +A certain Preacher became wise to the Fact that he was not making a Hit +with his Congregation. The Parishioners did not seem inclined to seek +him out after Services and tell him he was a Pansy. He suspected that +they were Rapping him on the Quiet. The Preacher knew there must be +something wrong with his Talk. He had been trying to Expound in a +clear and straightforward Manner, omitting Foreign Quotations, setting +up for illustration of his Points such Historical Characters as were +familiar to his Hearers, putting the stubby Old English words ahead of +the Latin, and rather flying low along the Intellectual Plane of the +Aggregation that chipped in to pay his Salary. But the Pew-Holders +were not tickled. They could Understand everything he said, and they +began to think he was Common. +</P> + +<P> +So he studied the Situation and decided that if he wanted to Win them +and make everybody believe he was a Nobby and Boss Minister he would +have to hand out a little Guff. He fixed it up Good and Plenty. +</P> + +<P> +On the following Sunday Morning he got up in the Lookout and read a +Text that didn't mean anything, read from either Direction, and then he +sized up his Flock with a Dreamy Eye and said: "We can not more +adequately voice the Poetry and Mysticism of our Text than in those +familiar Lines of the great Icelandic Poet, Ikon Navrojk: +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"To hold is not to have—<BR> +Under the seared Firmament,<BR> +Where Chaos sweeps, and Vast Futurity<BR> +Sneers at these puny Aspirations—<BR> +There is the full Reprisal."<BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +When the Preacher concluded this Extract from the Well-Known Icelandic +Poet he paused and looked downward, breathing heavily through his Nose, +like Camille in the Third Act. +</P> + +<P> +A Stout Woman in the Front Row put on her Eye-Glasses and leaned +forward so as not to miss Anything. A Venerable Harness Dealer over at +the Right nodded his Head solemnly. He seemed to recognize the +Quotation. Members of the Congregation glanced at one another as if to +say: "This is certainly Hot Stuff!" +</P> + +<P> +The Preacher wiped his Brow and said he had no Doubt that every one +within the Sound of his Voice remembered what Quarolius had said, +following the same Line of Thought. It was Quarolius who disputed the +Contention of the great Persian Theologian Ramtazuk, that the Soul in +its reaching out after the Unknowable was guided by the Spiritual +Genesis of Motive rather than by mere Impulse of Mentality. The +Preacher didn't know what all This meant, and he didn't care, but you +can rest easy that the Pew-Holders were On in a minute. He talked it +off in just the Way that Cyrano talks when he gets Roxane so Dizzy that +she nearly falls off the Piazza. +</P> + +<P> +The Parishioners bit their Lower Lips and hungered for more First-Class +Language. They had paid their Money for Tall Talk and were prepared to +solve any and all styles of Delivery. They held on to the Cushions and +seemed to be having a Nice Time. +</P> + +<P> +The Preacher quoted copiously from the Great Poet Amebius. He recited +18 lines of Greek and then said: "How true this is!" And not a +Parishioner batted an Eye. +</P> + +<P> +It was Amebius whose Immortal Lines he recited in order to prove the +Extreme Error of the Position assumed in the Controversy by the Famous +Italian, Polenta. +</P> + +<P> +He had them Going, and there wasn't a Thing to it. When he would get +tired of faking Philosophy he would quote from a Celebrated Poet of +Ecuador or Tasmania or some other Seaport Town. Compared with this +Verse, all of which was of the same School as the Icelandic +Masterpiece, the most obscure and clouded Passage in Robert Browning +was like a Plate-Glass Front in a State Street Candy Store just after +the Colored Boy gets through using the Chamois. +</P> + +<P> +After that he became Eloquent, and began to get rid of long Boston +Words that hadn't been used before that Season. He grabbed a +rhetorical Roman Candle in each Hand and you couldn't see him for the +Sparks. +</P> + +<P> +After which he sank his Voice to a Whisper and talked about the Birds +and the Flowers. Then, although there was no Cue for him to Weep, he +shed a few real Tears. And there wasn't a dry Glove in the church. +</P> + +<P> +After he sat down he could tell by the Scared Look of the People in +Front that he had made a Ten-Strike. +</P> + +<P> +Did they give him the Joyous Palm that Day? Sure! +</P> + +<P> +The Stout Lady could not control her Feelings when she told how much +the Sermon had helped her. The venerable Harness Dealer said he wished +to indorse the Able and Scholarly Criticism of Polenta. +</P> + +<P> +In fact, every one said the Sermon was Superfine and Dandy. The only +thing that worried the Congregation was the Fear that if it wished to +retain such a Whale it might have to boost his Salary. +</P> + +<P> +In the Meantime the Preacher waited for some one to come and ask about +Polenta, Amebius, Ramtazuk, Quarolius and the great Icelandic Poet, +Navrojk. But no one had the Face to step up and confess his Ignorance +of these Celebrities. The Pew-Holders didn't even admit among +themselves that the Preacher had rung in some New Ones. They stood +Pat, and merely said it was an Elegant Sermon. +</P> + +<P> +Perceiving that they would stand for Anything, the Preacher knew what +to do after that. +</P> + +<P> +MORAL: <I>Give the People what they Think they want</I>. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap12"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE SHADOWS ON THE WALL +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +By MARY E. WILKINS FREEMAN +</H4> + +<P CLASS="intro"> +Copyright 1903 by Doubleday, Page & Co. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +"Henry had words with Edward in the study the night before Edward +died," said Caroline Glynn. She was elderly, tall, and harshly thin, +with a hard colourlessness of face. She spoke not with acrimony, but +with grave severity. Rebecca Ann Glynn, younger, stouter and rosy of +face between her crinkling puffs of gray hair, gasped, by way of +assent. She sat in a wide flounce of black silk in the corner of the +sofa, and rolled terrified eyes from her sister Caroline to her sister +Mrs. Stephen Brigham, who had been Emma Glynn, the one beauty of the +family. She was beautiful still, with a large, splendid, full-blown +beauty; she filled a great rocking-chair with her superb bulk of +femininity, and swayed gently back and forth, her black silks +whispering and her black frills fluttering. Even the shock of death +(for her brother Edward lay dead in the house,) could not disturb her +outward serenity of demeanour. She was grieved over the loss of her +brother: he had been the youngest, and she had been fond of him, but +never had Emma Brigham lost sight of her own importance amidst the +waters of tribulation. She was always awake to the consciousness of +her own stability in the midst of vicissitudes and the splendour of her +permanent bearing. +</P> + +<P> +But even her expression of masterly placidity changed before her sister +Caroline's announcement and her sister Rebecca Ann's gasp of terror and +distress in response. +</P> + +<P> +"I think Henry might have controlled his temper, when poor Edward was +so near his end," said she with an asperity which disturbed slightly +the roseate curves of her beautiful mouth. +</P> + +<P> +"Of course he did not <I>know</I>," murmured Rebecca Ann in a faint tone +strangely out of keeping with her appearance. +</P> + +<P> +One involuntarily looked again to be sure that such a feeble pipe came +from that full-swelling chest. +</P> + +<P> +"Of course he did not know it," said Caroline quickly. She turned on +her sister with a strange sharp look of suspicion. "How could he have +known it?" said she. Then she shrank as if from the other's possible +answer. "Of course you and I both know he could not," said she +conclusively, but her pale face was paler than it had been before. +</P> + +<P> +Rebecca gasped again. The married sister, Mrs. Emma Brigham, was now +sitting up straight in her chair; she had ceased rocking, and was +eyeing them both intently with a sudden accentuation of family likeness +in her face. Given one common intensity of emotion and similar lines +showed forth, and the three sisters of one race were evident. +</P> + +<P> +"What do you mean?" said she impartially to them both. Then she, too, +seemed to shrink before a possible answer. She even laughed an evasive +sort of laugh. "I guess you don't mean anything," said she, but her +face wore still the expression of shrinking horror. +</P> + +<P> +"Nobody means anything," said Caroline firmly. She rose and crossed +the room toward the door with grim decisiveness. +</P> + +<P> +"Where are you going?" asked Mrs. Brigham. +</P> + +<P> +"I have something to see to," replied Caroline, and the others at once +knew by her tone that she had some solemn and sad duty to perform in +the chamber of death. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh," said Mrs. Brigham. +</P> + +<P> +After the door had closed behind Caroline, she turned to Rebecca. +</P> + +<P> +"Did Henry have many words with him?" she asked. +</P> + +<P> +"They were talking very loud," replied Rebecca evasively, yet with an +answering gleam of ready response to the other's curiosity in the quick +lift of her soft blue eyes. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Brigham looked at her. She had not resumed rocking. She still +sat up straight with a slight knit of intensity on her fair forehead, +between the pretty rippling curves of her auburn hair. +</P> + +<P> +"Did you—hear anything?" she asked in a low voice with a glance toward +the door. +</P> + +<P> +"I was just across the hall in the south parlour, and that door was +open and this door ajar," replied Rebecca with a slight flush. +</P> + +<P> +"Then you must have——" +</P> + +<P> +"I couldn't help it." +</P> + +<P> +"Everything?" +</P> + +<P> +"Most of it." +</P> + +<P> +"What was it?" +</P> + +<P> +"The old story." +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose Henry was mad, as he always was, because Edward was living +on here for nothing, when he had wasted all the money father left him." +</P> + +<P> +Rebecca nodded with a fearful glance at the door. +</P> + +<P> +When Emma spoke again her voice was still more hushed. "I know how he +felt," said she. "He had always been so prudent himself, and worked +hard at his profession, and there Edward had never done anything but +spend, and it must have looked to him as if Edward was living at his +expense, but he wasn't." +</P> + +<P> +"No, he wasn't." +</P> + +<P> +"It was the way father left the property—that all the children should +have a home here—and he left money enough to buy the food and all if +we had all come home." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +"And Edward had a right here according to the terms of father's will, +and Henry ought to have remembered it." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, he ought." +</P> + +<P> +"Did he say hard things?" +</P> + +<P> +"Pretty hard from what I heard." +</P> + +<P> +"What?" +</P> + +<P> +"I heard him tell Edward that he had no business here at all, and he +thought he had better go away." +</P> + +<P> +"What did Edward say?" +</P> + +<P> +"That he would stay here as long as he lived and afterward, too, if he +was a mind to, and he would like to see Henry get him out; and then——" +</P> + +<P> +"What?" +</P> + +<P> +"Then he laughed." +</P> + +<P> +"What did Henry say?" +</P> + +<P> +"I didn't hear him say anything, but——" +</P> + +<P> +"But what?" +</P> + +<P> +"I saw him when he came out of this room." +</P> + +<P> +"He looked mad?" +</P> + +<P> +"You've seen him when he looked so." +</P> + +<P> +Emma nodded; the expression of horror on her face had deepened. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you remember that time he killed the cat because she had scratched +him?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes. Don't!" +</P> + +<P> +Then Caroline reëntered the room. She went up to the stove in which a +wood fire was burning—it was a cold, gloomy day of fall—and she +warmed her hands, which were reddened from recent washing in cold water. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Brigham looked at her and hesitated. She glanced at the door, +which was still ajar, as it did not easily shut, being still swollen +with the damp weather of the summer. She rose and pushed it together +with a sharp thud, which jarred the house. Rebecca started painfully +with a half exclamation. +</P> + +<P> +Caroline looked at her disapprovingly. +</P> + +<P> +"It is time you controlled your nerves, Rebecca," said she. +</P> + +<P> +"I can't help it," replied Rebecca with almost a wail. "I am nervous. +There's enough to make me so, the Lord knows." +</P> + +<P> +"What do you mean by that?" asked Caroline with her old air of sharp +suspicion, and something between challenge and dread of its being met. +</P> + +<P> +Rebecca shrank. +</P> + +<P> +"Nothing," said she. +</P> + +<P> +"Then I wouldn't keep speaking in such a fashion." +</P> + +<P> +Emma, returning from the closed door, said imperiously that it ought to +be fixed, it shut so hard. +</P> + +<P> +"It will shrink enough after we have had the fire a few days," replied +Caroline. "If anything is done to it it will be too small; there will +be a crack at the sill." +</P> + +<P> +"I think Henry ought to be ashamed of himself for talking as he did to +Edward," said Mrs. Brigham abruptly, but in an almost inaudible voice. +</P> + +<P> +"Hush!" said Caroline, with a glance of actual fear at the closed door. +</P> + +<P> +"Nobody can hear with the door shut." +</P> + +<P> +"He must have heard it shut, and——" +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I can say what I want to before he comes down, and I am not +afraid of him." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know who is afraid of him! What reason is there for anybody +to be afraid of Henry?" demanded Caroline. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Brigham trembled before her sister's look. Rebecca gasped again. +"There isn't any reason, of course. Why should there be?" +</P> + +<P> +"I wouldn't speak so, then. Somebody might overhear you and think it +was queer. Miranda Joy is in the south parlour sewing, you know." +</P> + +<P> +"I thought she went upstairs to stitch on the machine." +</P> + +<P> +"She did, but she has come down again." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, she can't hear." +</P> + +<P> +"I say again, I think Henry ought to be ashamed of himself. I +shouldn't think he'd ever get over it, having words with poor Edward +the very night before he died. Edward was enough sight better +disposition than Henry, with all his faults. I always thought a great +deal of poor Edward, myself." +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Brigham passed a large fluff of handkerchief across her eyes; +Rebecca sobbed outright. +</P> + +<P> +"Rebecca," said Caroline admonishingly, keeping her mouth stiff and +swallowing determinately. +</P> + +<P> +"I never heard him speak a cross word, unless he spoke cross to Henry +that last night. I don't know but he did, from what Rebecca +overheard," said Emma. +</P> + +<P> +"Not so much cross as sort of soft, and sweet, and aggravating," +sniffled Rebecca. +</P> + +<P> +"He never raised his voice," said Caroline; "but he had his way." +</P> + +<P> +"He had a right to in this case." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, he did." +</P> + +<P> +"He had as much of a right here as Henry," sobbed Rebecca, "and now +he's gone, and he will never be in this home that poor father left him +and the rest of us again." +</P> + +<P> +"What do you really think ailed Edward?" asked Emma in hardly more than +a whisper. She did not look at her sister. +</P> + +<P> +Caroline sat down in a nearby armchair, and clutched the arms +convulsively until her thin knuckles whitened. +</P> + +<P> +"I told you," said she. +</P> + +<P> +Rebecca held her handkerchief over her mouth, and looked at them above +it with terrified, streaming eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"I know you said that he had terrible pains in his stomach, and had +spasms, but what do you think made him have them?" +</P> + +<P> +"Henry called it gastric trouble. You know Edward has always had +dyspepsia." +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Brigham hesitated a moment. "Was there any talk of +an—examination?" said she. +</P> + +<P> +Then Caroline turned on her fiercely. +</P> + +<P> +"No," said she in a terrible voice. "No." +</P> + +<P> +The three sisters' souls seemed to meet on one common ground of +terrified understanding through their eyes. The old-fashioned latch of +the door was heard to rattle, and a push from without made the door +shake ineffectually. "It's Henry," Rebecca sighed rather than +whispered. Mrs. Brigham settled herself after a noiseless rush. +Across the floor into her rocking-chair again, and was swaying back and +forth with her head comfortably leaning back, when the door at last +yielded and Henry Glynn entered. He cast a covertly sharp, +comprehensive glance at Mrs. Brigham with her elaborate calm; at +Rebecca quietly huddled in the corner of the sofa with her handkerchief +to her face and only one small reddened ear as attentive as a dog's +uncovered and revealing her alertness for his presence; at Caroline +sitting with a strained composure in her armchair by the stove. She +met his eyes quite firmly with a look of inscrutable fear, and defiance +of the fear and of him. +</P> + +<P> +Henry Glynn looked more like this sister than the others. Both had the +same hard delicacy of form and feature, both were tall and almost +emaciated, both had a sparse growth of gray blond hair far back from +high intellectual foreheads, both had an almost noble aquilinity of +feature. They confronted each other with the pitiless immovability of +two statues in whose marble lineaments emotions were fixed for all +eternity. +</P> + +<P> +Then Henry Glynn smiled and the smile transformed his face. He looked +suddenly years younger, and an almost boyish recklessness and +irresolution appeared in his face. He flung himself into a chair with +a gesture which was bewildering from its incongruity with his general +appearance. He leaned his head back, flung one leg over the other, and +looked laughingly at Mrs. Brigham. +</P> + +<P> +"I declare, Emma, you grow younger every year," he said. +</P> + +<P> +She flushed a little, and her placid mouth widened at the corners. She +was susceptible to praise. +</P> + +<P> +"Our thoughts to-day ought to belong to the one of us who will <I>never</I> +grow older," said Caroline in a hard voice. +</P> + +<P> +Henry looked at her, still smiling. "Of course, we none of us forget +that," said he, in a deep, gentle voice, "but we have to speak to the +living, Caroline, and I have not seen Emma for a long time, and the +living are as dear as the dead." +</P> + +<P> +"Not to me," said Caroline. +</P> + +<P> +She rose, and went abruptly out of the room again. Rebecca also rose +and hurried after her, sobbing loudly. +</P> + +<P> +Henry looked slowly after them. +</P> + +<P> +"Caroline is completely unstrung," said he. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Brigham rocked. A confidence in him inspired by his manner was +stealing over her. Out of that confidence she spoke quite easily and +naturally. +</P> + +<P> +"His death was very sudden," said she. +</P> + +<P> +Henry's eyelids quivered slightly but his gaze was unswerving. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," said he; "it was very sudden. He was sick only a few hours." +</P> + +<P> +"What did you call it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Gastric." +</P> + +<P> +"You did not think of an examination?" +</P> + +<P> +"There was no need. I am perfectly certain as to the cause of his +death." +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly Mrs. Brigham felt a creep as of some live horror over her very +soul. Her flesh prickled with cold, before an inflection of his voice. +She rose, tottering on weak knees. +</P> + +<P> +"Where are you going?" asked Henry in a strange, breathless voice. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Brigham said something incoherent about some sewing which she had +to do, some black for the funeral, and was out of the room. She went +up to the front chamber which she occupied. Caroline was there. She +went close to her and took her hands, and the two sisters looked at +each other. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't speak, don't, I won't have it!" said Caroline finally in an +awful whisper. +</P> + +<P> +"I won't," replied Emma. +</P> + +<P> +That afternoon the three sisters were in the study, the large front +room on the ground floor across the hall from the south parlour, when +the dusk deepened. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Brigham was hemming some black material. She sat close to the +west window for the waning light. At last she laid her work on her lap. +</P> + +<P> +"It's no use, I cannot see to sew another stitch until we have a +light," said she. +</P> + +<P> +Caroline, who was writing some letters at the table, turned to Rebecca, +in her usual place on the sofa. +</P> + +<P> +"Rebecca, you had better get a lamp," she said. +</P> + +<P> +Rebecca started up; even in the dusk her face showed her agitation. +</P> + +<P> +"It doesn't seem to me that we need a lamp quite yet," she said in a +piteous, pleading voice like a child's. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, we do," returned Mrs. Brigham peremptorily. "We must have a +light. I must finish this to-night or I can't go to the funeral, and I +can't see to sew another stitch." +</P> + +<P> +"Caroline can see to write letters, and she is farther from the window +than you are," said Rebecca. +</P> + +<P> +"Are you trying to save kerosene or are you lazy, Rebecca Glynn?" cried +Mrs. Brigham. "I can go and get the light myself, but I have this work +all in my lap." +</P> + +<P> +Caroline's pen stopped scratching. +</P> + +<P> +"Rebecca, we must have the light," said she. +</P> + +<P> +"Had we better have it in here?" asked Rebecca weakly. +</P> + +<P> +"Of course! Why not?" cried Caroline sternly. +</P> + +<P> +"I am sure I don't want to take my sewing into the other room, when it +is all cleaned up for to-morrow," said Mrs. Brigham. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, I never heard such a to-do about lighting a lamp." +</P> + +<P> +Rebecca rose and left the room. Presently she entered with a lamp—a +large one with a white porcelain shade. She set it on a table, an +old-fashioned card-table which was placed against the opposite wall +from the window. That wall was clear of bookcases and books, which +were only on three sides of the room. That opposite wall was taken up +with three doors, the one small space being occupied by the table. +Above the table on the old-fashioned paper, of a white satin gloss, +traversed by an indeterminate green scroll, hung quite high a small +gilt and black-framed ivory miniature taken in her girlhood of the +mother of the family. When the lamp was set on the table beneath it, +the tiny pretty face painted on the ivory seemed to gleam out with a +look of intelligence. +</P> + +<P> +"What have you put that lamp over there for?" asked Mrs. Brigham, with +more of impatience than her voice usually revealed. "Why didn't you +set it in the hall and have done with it? Neither Caroline nor I can +see if it is on that table." +</P> + +<P> +"I thought perhaps you would move," replied Rebecca hoarsely. +</P> + +<P> +"If I do move, we can't both sit at that table. Caroline has her paper +all spread around. Why don't you set the lamp on the study table in +the middle of the room, then we can both see?" +</P> + +<P> +Rebecca hesitated. Her face was very pale. She looked with an appeal +that was fairly agonizing at her sister Caroline. +</P> + +<P> +"Why don't you put the lamp on this table, as she says?" asked +Caroline, almost fiercely. "Why do you act so, Rebecca?" +</P> + +<P> +"I should think you <I>would</I> ask her that," said Mrs. Brigham. "She +doesn't act like herself at all." +</P> + +<P> +Rebecca took the lamp and set it on the table in the middle of the room +without another word. Then she turned her back upon it quickly and +seated herself on the sofa, and placed a hand over her eyes as if to +shade them, and remained so. +</P> + +<P> +"Does the light hurt your eyes, and is that the reason why you didn't +want the lamp?" asked Mrs. Brigham kindly. +</P> + +<P> +"I always like to sit in the dark," replied Rebecca chokingly. +</P> + +<P> +Then she snatched her handkerchief hastily from her pocket and began to +weep. Caroline continued to write, Mrs. Brigham to sew. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly Mrs. Brigham as she sewed glanced at the opposite wall. The +glance became a steady stare. She looked intently, her work suspended +in her hands. Then she looked away again and took a few more stitches, +then she looked again, and again turned to her task. At last she laid +her work in her lap and stared concentratedly. She looked from the +wall around the room, taking note of the various objects; she looked at +the wall long and intently. Then she turned to her sisters. +</P> + +<P> +"What <I>is</I> that?" said she. +</P> + +<P> +"What?" asked Caroline harshly; her pen scratched loudly across the +paper. +</P> + +<P> +Rebecca gave one of her convulsive gasps. +</P> + +<P> +"That strange shadow on the wall," replied Mrs. Brigham. +</P> + +<P> +Rebecca sat with her face hidden: Caroline dipped her pen in the +inkstand. +</P> + +<P> +"Why don't you turn around and look?" asked Mrs. Brigham in a wondering +and somewhat aggrieved way. +</P> + +<P> +"I am in a hurry to finish this letter, if Mrs. Wilson Ebbit is going +to get word in time to come to the funeral," replied Caroline shortly. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Brigham rose, her work slipping to the floor, and she began +walking around the room, moving various articles of furniture, with her +eyes on the shadow. +</P> + +<P> +Then suddenly she shrieked out: +</P> + +<P> +"Look at this awful shadow! What is it? Caroline, look, look! +Rebecca, look! <I>What is it</I>?" +</P> + +<P> +All Mrs. Brigham's triumphant placidity was gone. Her handsome face +was livid with horror. She stood stiffly pointing at the shadow. +</P> + +<P> +"Look!" said she, pointing her finger at it. "Look! What is it?" +</P> + +<P> +Then Rebecca burst out in a wild wail after a shuddering glance at the +wall: +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, Caroline, there it is again! There it is again!" +</P> + +<P> +"Caroline Glynn, you look!" said Mrs. Brigham. "Look! What is that +dreadful shadow?" +</P> + +<P> +Caroline rose, turned, and stood confronting the wall. +</P> + +<P> +"How should I know?" she said. +</P> + +<P> +"It has been there every night since he died," cried Rebecca.—"Every +night?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes. He died Thursday and this is Saturday; that makes three nights," +said Caroline rigidly. She stood as if holding herself calm with a +vise of concentrated will. +</P> + +<P> +"It—it looks like—like——" stammered Mrs. Brigham in a tone of +intense horror.—"I know what it looks like well enough," said +Caroline. "I've got eyes in my head." +</P> + +<P> +"It looks like Edward," burst out Rebecca in a sort of frenzy of fear. +"Only——" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, it does," assented Mrs. Brigham, whose horror-stricken tone +matched her sister's, "only—— Oh, it is awful! What is it, +Caroline?" +</P> + +<P> +"I ask you again, how should I know?" replied Caroline. "I see it +there like you. How should I know any more than you?"—"It <I>must</I> be +something in the room," said Mrs. Brigham, staring wildly around. +</P> + +<P> +"We moved everything in the room the first night it came," said +Rebecca; "it is not anything in the room." +</P> + +<P> +Caroline turned upon her with a sort of fury. "Of course it is +something in the room," said she. "How you act! What do you mean by +talking so? Of course it is something in the room." +</P> + +<P> +"Of course, it is," agreed Mrs. Brigham, looking at Caroline +suspiciously. "Of course it must be. It is only a coincidence. It +just happens so. Perhaps it is that fold of the window curtain that +makes it. It must be something in the room." +</P> + +<P> +"It is not anything in the room," repeated Rebecca with obstinate +horror. +</P> + +<P> +The door opened suddenly and Henry Glynn entered. +</P> + +<P> +He began to speak, then his eyes followed the direction of the others'. +He stood stock still staring at the shadow on the wall. It was life +size and stretched across the white parallelogram of a door, half +across the wall space on which the picture hung. +</P> + +<P> +"What is that?" he demanded in a strange voice. +</P> + +<P> +"It must be due to something in the room," Mrs. Brigham said faintly. +</P> + +<P> +"It is not due to anything in the room," said Rebecca again with the +shrill insistency of terror. +</P> + +<P> +"How you act, Rebecca Glynn," said Caroline. +</P> + +<P> +Henry Glynn stood and stared a moment longer. His face showed a gamut +of emotions—horror, conviction, then furious incredulity. Suddenly he +began hastening hither and thither about the room. He moved the +furniture with fierce jerks, turning ever to see the effect upon the +shadow on the wall. Not a line of its terrible outlines wavered. +</P> + +<P> +"It must be something in the room!" he declared in a voice which seemed +to snap like a lash. +</P> + +<P> +His face changed. The inmost secrecy of his nature seemed evident +until one almost lost sight of his lineaments. Rebecca stood close to +her sofa, regarding him with woeful, fascinated eyes. Mrs. Brigham +clutched Caroline's hand. They both stood in a corner out of his way. +For a few moments he raged about the room like a caged wild animal. He +moved every piece of furniture; when the moving of a piece did not +affect the shadow, he flung it to the floor, the sisters watching. +</P> + +<P> +Then suddenly he desisted. He laughed and began straightening the +furniture which he had flung down. +</P> + +<P> +"What an absurdity," he said easily. "Such a to-do about a shadow." +</P> + +<P> +"That's so," assented Mrs. Brigham, in a scared voice which she tried +to make natural. As she spoke she lifted a chair near her. +</P> + +<P> +"I think you have broken the chair that Edward was so fond of," said +Caroline. +</P> + +<P> +Terror and wrath were struggling for expression on her face. Her mouth +was set, her eyes shrinking. Henry lifted the chair with a show of +anxiety. +</P> + +<P> +"Just as good as ever," he said pleasantly. He laughed again, looking +at his sisters. "Did I scare you?" he said. "I should think you might +be used to me by this time. You know my way of wanting to leap to the +bottom of a mystery, and that shadow does look—queer, like—and I +thought if there was any way of accounting for it I would like to +without any delay."—"You don't seem to have succeeded," remarked +Caroline dryly, with a slight glance at the wall. +</P> + +<P> +Henry's eyes followed hers and he quivered perceptibly. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, there is no accounting for shadows," he said, and he laughed +again. "A man is a fool to try to account for shadows." +</P> + +<P> +Then the supper bell rang, and they all left the room, but Henry kept +his back to the wall, as did, indeed, the others. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Brigham pressed close to Caroline as she crossed the hall. "He +looked like a demon!" she breathed in her ear. +</P> + +<P> +Henry led the way with an alert motion like a boy; Rebecca brought up +the rear; she could scarcely walk, her knees trembled so. +</P> + +<P> +"I can't sit in that room again this evening," she whispered to +Caroline after supper. +</P> + +<P> +"Very well, we will sit in the south room," replied Caroline. "I think +we will sit in the south parlour," she said aloud; "it isn't as damp as +the study, and I have a cold." +</P> + +<P> +So they all sat in the south room with their sewing. Henry read the +newspaper, his chair drawn close to the lamp on the table. About nine +o'clock he rose abruptly and crossed the hall to the study. The three +sisters looked at one another. Mrs. Brigham rose, folded her rustling +skirts compactly around her, and began tiptoeing toward the door. +</P> + +<P> +"What are you going to do?" inquired Rebecca agitatedly.—"I am going +to see what he is about," replied Mrs. Brigham cautiously. +</P> + +<P> +She pointed as she spoke to the study door across the hall; it was +ajar. Henry had striven to pull it together behind him, but it had +somehow swollen beyond the limit with curious speed. It was still ajar +and a streak of light showed from top to bottom. The hall lamp was not +lit. +</P> + +<P> +"You had better stay where you are," said Caroline with guarded +sharpness. +</P> + +<P> +"I am going to see," repeated Mrs. Brigham firmly. +</P> + +<P> +Then she folded her skirts so tightly that her bulk with its swelling +curves was revealed in a black silk sheath, and she went with a slow +toddle across the hall to the study door. She stood there, her eye at +the crack. +</P> + +<P> +In the south room Rebecca stopped sewing and sat watching with dilated +eyes. Caroline sewed steadily. What Mrs. Brigham, standing at the +crack in the study door, saw was this: +</P> + +<P> +Henry Glynn, evidently reasoning that the source of the strange shadow +must be between the table on which the lamp stood and the wall, was +making systematic passes and thrusts all over and through the +intervening space with an old sword which had belonged to his father. +Not an inch was left unpierced. He seemed to have divided the space +into mathematical sections. He brandished the sword with a sort of +cold fury and calculation; the blade gave out flashes of light, the +shadow remained unmoved. Mrs. Brigham, watching, felt herself cold +with horror. +</P> + +<P> +Finally Henry ceased and stood with the sword in hand and raised as if +to strike, surveying the shadow on the wall threateningly. Mrs. +Brigham toddled back across the hall and shut the south room door +behind her before she related what she had seen. +</P> + +<P> +"He looked like a demon!" she said again. "Have you got any of that +old wine in the house, Caroline? I don't feel as if I could stand much +more." +</P> + +<P> +Indeed, she looked overcome. Her handsome placid face was worn and +strained and pale. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, there's plenty," said Caroline; "you can have some when you go to +bed." +</P> + +<P> +"I think we had all better take some," said Mrs. Brigham. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, my God, Caroline, what——" +</P> + +<P> +"Don't ask and don't speak," said Caroline. +</P> + +<P> +"No, I am not going to," replied Mrs. Brigham; "but——" +</P> + +<P> +Rebecca moaned aloud. +</P> + +<P> +"What are you doing that for?" asked Caroline harshly. +</P> + +<P> +"Poor Edward," returned Rebecca. +</P> + +<P> +"That is all you have to groan for," said Caroline. "There is nothing +else." +</P> + +<P> +"I am going to bed," said Mrs. Brigham. "I sha'n't be able to be at +the funeral if I don't." +</P> + +<P> +Soon the three sisters went to their chambers and the south parlour was +deserted. Caroline called to Henry in the study to put out the light +before he came upstairs. They had been gone about an hour when he came +into the room bringing the lamp which had stood in the study. He set +it on the table and waited a few minutes, pacing up and down. His face +was terrible, his fair complexion showed livid; his blue eyes seemed +dark blanks of awful reflections. +</P> + +<P> +Then he took the lamp up and returned to the library. He set the lamp +on the centre table, and the shadow sprang out on the wall. Again he +studied the furniture and moved it about, but deliberately, with none +of his former frenzy. Nothing affected the shadow. Then he returned +to the south room with the lamp and again waited. Again he returned to +the study and placed the lamp on the table, and the shadow sprang out +upon the wall. It was midnight before he went upstairs. Mrs. Brigham +and the other sisters, who could not sleep, heard him. +</P> + +<P> +The next day was the funeral. That evening the family sat in the south +room. Some relatives were with them. Nobody entered the study until +Henry carried a lamp in there after the others had retired for the +night. He saw again the shadow on the wall leap to an awful life +before the light. +</P> + +<P> +The next morning at breakfast Henry Glynn announced that he had to go +to the city for three days. The sisters looked at him with surprise. +He very seldom left home, and just now his practice had been neglected +on account of Edward's death. He was a physician. +</P> + +<P> +"How can you leave your patients now?" asked Mrs. Brigham wonderingly. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know how to, but there is no other way," replied Henry easily. +"I have had a telegram from Doctor Mitford." +</P> + +<P> +"Consultation?" inquired Mrs. Brigham. +</P> + +<P> +"I have business," replied Henry. +</P> + +<P> +Doctor Mitford was an old classmate of his who lived in a neighbouring +city and who occasionally called upon him in the case of a consultation. +</P> + +<P> +After he had gone Mrs. Brigham said to Caroline that after all Henry +had not said that he was going to consult with Doctor Mitford, and she +thought it very strange. +</P> + +<P> +"Everything is very strange," said Rebecca with a shudder. +</P> + +<P> +"What do you mean?" inquired Caroline sharply. +</P> + +<P> +"Nothing," replied Rebecca. +</P> + +<P> +Nobody entered the library that day, nor the next, nor the next. The +third day Henry was expected home, but he did not arrive and the last +train from the city had come. +</P> + +<P> +"I call it pretty queer work," said Mrs. Brigham. "The idea of a +doctor leaving his patients for three days anyhow, at such a time as +this, and I know he has some very sick ones; he said so. And the idea +of a consultation lasting three days! There is no sense in it, and +<I>now</I> he has not come. I don't understand it, for my part." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't either," said Rebecca. +</P> + +<P> +They were all in the south parlour. There was no light in the study +opposite, and the door was ajar. +</P> + +<P> +Presently Mrs. Brigham rose—she could not have told why; something +seemed to impel her, some will outside her own. She went out of the +room, again wrapping her rustling skirts around that she might pass +noiselessly, and began pushing at the swollen door of the study. +</P> + +<P> +"She has not got any lamp," said Rebecca in a shaking voice. +</P> + +<P> +Caroline, who was writing letters, rose again, took a lamp (there were +two in the room) and followed her sister. Rebecca had risen, but she +stood trembling, not venturing to follow. The doorbell rang, but the +others did not hear it; it was on the south door on the other side of +the house from the study. Rebecca, after hesitating until the bell +rang the second time, went to the door; she remembered that the servant +was out. +</P> + +<P> +Caroline and her sister Emma entered the study. Caroline set the lamp +on the table. They looked at the wall. "Oh, my God," gasped Mrs. +Brigham, "there are—there are two—shadows." The sisters stood +clutching each other, staring at the awful things on the wall. Then +Rebecca came in, staggering, with a telegram in her hand. "Here is—a +telegram," she gasped. "Henry is—dead." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap13"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +MAJOR PERDUE'S BARGAIN +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +By JOEL CHANDLER HARRIS +</H4> + +<P CLASS="intro"> +Copyright 1899 by Charles Scribner's Sons. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +When next I had an opportunity to talk with Aunt Minervy Ann, she +indulged in a hearty laugh before saying a word, and it was some time +before she found her voice. +</P> + +<P> +"What is so funny to-day?" I inquired. +</P> + +<P> +"Me, suh—nothin' tall 'bout me, an' 'tain't only ter day, nudder. +Hit's eve'y day sence I been big 'nuff fer to see myse'f in de spring +branch. I laughed den, an' I laugh now eve'y time I see myse'f in my +min'—ef I' got any min'. I wuz talkin' ter Hamp las' night an' +tellin' 'im how I start in ter tell you sump'n 'bout Marse Paul Conant' +shoulder, an' den eend up by tellin' you eve'ything else I know but dat. +</P> + +<P> +"Hamp low, he did, 'Dat ain't nothin', bekaze when I ax you ter marry +me, you start in an' tell me 'bout a nigger gal 'cross dar in Jasper +County, which she make promise fer ter marry a man an' she crossed her +heart; an' den when de time come she stood up an' marry 'im an' fin' +out 'tain't de same man, but somebody what she ain't never see' befo'.' +</P> + +<P> +"I 'speck dat's so, suh, bekaze dey wuz sump'n like dat happen in +Jasper County. You know de Waters fambly—dey kep' race-hosses. Well, +suh, 'twuz right on der plantation. Warren Waters tol' me 'bout dat +hisse'f. He wuz de hoss-trainer, an' he 'uz right dar on de groun'. +When de gal done married, she look up an' holler, 'You ain't my +husban', bekaze I ain't make no promise fer ter marry you.' De man he +laugh, an' say, 'Don't need no promise atter you done married.' +</P> + +<P> +"Well, suh, dey say dat gal wuz skeer'd—skeer'd fer true. She sot on' +look in der fire. De man sot an' look at 'er. She try ter slip out de +do', an' he slipped wid 'er. She walked to'rds de big house, an' he +walkt wid 'er. She come back, an' he come wid 'er. She run an' he run +wid 'er. She cry an' he laugh at 'er. She dunner what to do. Bimeby +she tuck a notion dat de man mought be de Ol' Boy hisse'f, an' she +dropped down on her knees an' 'gun ter pray. Dis make de man restless; +look like he frettin'. Den he 'gun ter shake like he havin' chill. +Den he slip down out'n de cheer. Down he went on his all-fours. Den +his cloze drapped off, an' bless gracious! dar he wuz, a great big +black shaggy dog wid a short chain roun' his neck. Some un um flung a +chunk of fire at 'im, an' he run out howlin'. +</P> + +<P> +"Dat wuz de last dey seed un 'im, suh. Dey flung his cloze in de fire, +an' dey make a blaze dat come plum out'n de top er de chimbley stack. +Dat what make me tell Hamp 'bout it, suh. He ax me fer ter marry 'im, +an' I wan't so mighty sho' dat he wan't de Ol' Boy." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, that is queer, if true," said I, "but how about Mr. Conant's +crippled shoulder?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, it's de trufe, suh. Warren Waters tol' me dat out'n his own mouf, +an' he wuz right dar. I dunno but what de gal wuz some er his kinnery. +I don't min' tellin' you dat 'bout Marse Paul, suh, but you mustn't let +on 'bout it, bekaze Marse Tumlin an' Miss Vallie des' ez tetchous 'bout +dat ez dey kin be. I'd never git der fergivunce ef dey know'd I was +settin' down here tellin' 'bout dat. +</P> + +<P> +"You know how 'twaz in dem days. De folks what wuz de richest wuz de +wussest off when de army come home from battlin'. I done tol' you +'bout Marse Tumlin. He ain't had nothin' in de roun' worl' but a whole +passel er lan', an' me an' Miss Vallie. I don't count Hamp, bekaze +Hamp 'fuse ter blieve he's free twel he ramble 'roun' an' fin' out de +patterollers ain't gwine ter take 'im up. Dat how come I had ter sell +ginger-cakes an' chicken-pies dat time. De money I made at dat ain't +last long, bekaze Marse Tumlin he been use' ter rich vittles, an' he +went right downtown an' got a bottle er chow-chow, an' some olives, an' +some sardines, an' some cheese, an' you know yo'se'f, suh, dat money +ain't gwine ter las' when you buy dat kin' er doin's. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, suh, we done mighty well whiles de money helt out, but 'tain't +court-week all de time, an' when dat de case, money got ter come fum +some'rs else 'sides sellin' cakes an' pies. Bimeby, Hamp he got work +at de liberty stable, whar dey hire out hosses an' board um. I call it +a hoss tavern, suh, but Hamp, he 'low it's a liberty stable. Anyhow, +he got work dar, an' dat sorter he'p out. Sometimes he'd growl bekaze +I tuck his money fer ter he'p out my white folks, but when he got right +mad I'd gi' Miss Vallie de wink, an' she'd say: 'Hampton, how'd you +like ter have a little dram ter-night? You look like youer tired.' I +could a-hugged 'er fer de way she done it, she 'uz dat cute. An' den +Hamp, he'd grin an' low, 'I ain't honin' fer it, Miss Vallie, but +'twon't do me no harm, an' it may do me good.' +</P> + +<P> +"An' den, suh, he'd set down, an' atter he got sorter warmed up wid de +dram, he'd kinder roll his eye and low, 'Miss Vallie, she is a fine +white 'oman!' Well, suh, 'tain't long 'fo' we had dat nigger man +trained—done trained, bless you' soul! One day Miss Vallie had ter go +'cross town, an' she went by de liberty stable whar Hamp wuz at, +leastways, he seed 'er some'rs; an' he come home dat night lookin' like +he wuz feelin' bad. He 'fuse ter talk. Bimeby, atter he had his +supper, he say, 'I seed Miss Vallie downtown ter-day. She wuz wid Miss +Irene, an' dat 'ar frock she had on look mighty shabby.' I low, 'Well, +it de bes' she got. She ain't got money like de Chippendales, an' Miss +Irene don't keer how folks' cloze look. She too much quality fer dat.' +Hamp say, 'Whyn't you take some er yo' money an' make Miss Vallie git +er nice frock?' I low, 'Whar I got any money?' Hamp he hit his pocket +an' say, 'You got it right here.' +</P> + +<P> +"An' sho' 'nuff, suh, dat nigger man had a roll er money—mos' twenty +dollars. Some hoss drovers had come long an' Hamp made dat money by +trimmin' up de ol' mules dey had an' makin' um look young. He's got de +art er dat, suh, an' dey paid 'im well. Dar wuz de money, but how wuz +I gwine ter git it in Miss Vallie's han'? I kin buy vittles an' she +not know whar dey come fum, but when it come ter buyin' frocks—well, +suh, hit stumped me. Dey wan't but one way ter do it, an' I done it. +I make like I wuz mad. I tuck de money an' went in de house dar whar +Miss Vallie wuz sewin' an' mendin'. I went stompin' in, I did, an' +when I got in I started my tune. +</P> + +<P> +"I low, 'Ef de Perdues gwine ter go scandalizin' deyse'f by trottin' +down town in broad daylight wid all kinder frocks on der back, I'm +gwine 'way fum here; an' I dun'ner but what I'll go anyhow. 'Tain't +bekaze dey's any lack er money, fer here de money right here.' Wid dat +I slammed it down on de table. 'Dar! take dat an' git you a frock +dat'll make you look like sump'n when you git outside er dis house. +An' whiles you er gittin', git sump'n for ter put on yo' head!'" +</P> + +<P> +Whether it was by reason of a certain dramatic faculty inherent in her +race that she was able to summon emotions at will, or whether it was +mere unconscious reproduction, I am not prepared to say. But certain +it is that, in voice and gesture, in tone and attitude, and in a +certain passionate earnestness of expression, Aunt Minervy Ann built up +the whole scene before my eyes with such power that I seemed to have +been present when it occurred. I felt as if she had conveyed me bodily +into the room to become a witness of the episode. She went on, still +with a frown on her face and a certain violence of tone and manner: +</P> + +<P> +"I whipped 'roun' de room a time er two, pickin' up de cheers an' +slammin' um down agin, an' knockin' things 'roun' like I wuz mad. Miss +Vallie put her sewin' down an' lay her han' on de money. She low, +'What's dis, Aunt Minervy Ann?' I say, 'Hit's money, dat what +'tis—nothin' but nasty, stinkin' money! I wish dey wan't none in de +worl' less'n I had a bairlful.' She sorter fumble at de money wid 'er +fingers. You dunno, suh, how white an' purty an' weak her han' look +ter me dat night. She low, 'Aunt Minervy Ann, I can't take dis.' I +blaze' out at 'er, 'You don't hafter take it; you done got it! An' ef +you don't keep it, I'll rake up eve'y rag an' scrap I got an' leave dis +place. Now, you des' try me!'" +</P> + +<A NAME="img-224"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG CLASS="imgcenter" SRC="images/img-224.jpg" ALT="Mary E. Wilkins Freeman" BORDER="0" WIDTH="393" HEIGHT="547"> +</CENTER> + +<P> +Again Aunt Minervy Ann summoned to her aid the passion of a moment that +had passed away, and again I had the queer experience of seeming to +witness the whole scene. She continued: +</P> + +<P> +"Wid dat, I whipt out er de room an' out er de house an' went an' sot +down out dar in my house whar Hamp was at. Hamp, he low, 'What she +say?' I say, 'She ain't had time ter say nothin'—I come 'way fum +dar.' He low, 'You ain't brung dat money back, is you?' I say: 'Does +you think I'm a start naked fool?' He low: 'Kaze ef you is, I'll put +it right spang in de fire here.' +</P> + +<P> +"Well, suh, I sot dar some little time, but eve'ything wuz so still in +de house, bein's Marse Tumlin done gone downtown, dat I crope back an' +crope in fer ter see what Miss Vallie doin'. Well, suh, she wuz +cryin'—settin' dar cryin'. I 'low, 'Honey, is I say anything fer ter +hurt yo' feelin's?' She blubber' out, 'You know you ain't!' an' den +she cry good-fashion. +</P> + +<P> +"Des 'bout dat time, who should come in but Marse Tumlin. He look at +Miss Vallie an' den he look at me. He say, 'Valentine, what de +matter?' I say, 'It's me! I'm de one! I made 'er cry. I done sump'n +ter hurt 'er feelin's.' She low, ''Tain't so, an' you know it. I'm +des cryin' bekaze you too good ter me.' +</P> + +<P> +"Well, suh, I had ter git out er dar fer ter keep fum chokin'. Marse +Tumlin foller me out, an' right here on de porch, he low, 'Minervy Ann, +nex' time don't be so dam good to 'er.' I wuz doin' some snifflin' +myse'f 'bout dat time, an' I ain't keerin' what I say, so I stop an' +flung back at 'im, '<I>I'll be des es dam good ter 'er ez I please—I'm +free</I>!' Well, suh, stidder hittin' me, Marse Tumlin bust out laughin', +an' long atter dat he'd laugh eve'y time he look at me, des like sump'n +wuz ticklin' 'im mighty nigh ter death. +</P> + +<P> +"I 'speck he must er tol' 'bout dat cussin' part, bekaze folks 'roun' +here done got de idee dat I'm a sassy an' bad-tempered 'oman. Ef I had +ter work fer my livin', suh, I boun' you I'd be a long time findin' a +place. Atter dat, Hamp, he got in de Legislatur', an' it sho' wuz a +money-makin' place. Den we had eve'ything we wanted, an' mo' too, but +bimeby de Legislatur' gun out, an' den dar we wuz, flat ez flounders, +an' de white folks don't want ter hire Hamp des kaze he been ter de +Legislatur'; but he got back in de liberty stable atter so long a time. +Yit 'twa'n't what you may call livin'. +</P> + +<P> +"All dat time, I hear Marse Tumlin talkin' ter Miss Vallie 'bout what +he call his wil' lan'. He say he got two thousan' acres down dar in de +wiregrass, an' ef he kin sell it, he be mighty glad ter do so. Well, +suh, one day, long to'rds night, a two-hoss waggin driv' in at de side +gate an' come in de back-yard. Ol' Ben Sadler wuz drivin', an' he low, +'Heyo, Minervy Ann, whar you want deze goods drapped at?' I say, +'Hello yo'se'f, ef you wanter hello. What you got dar, an' who do it +'blong ter?' He low, 'Hit's goods fer Major Tumlin Perdue, an' whar +does you want um drapped at?' Well, suh, I ain't know what ter say, +but I run'd an' ax'd Miss Vallie, an' she say put um out anywheres +'roun' dar, kaze she dunner nothin' 'bout um. So ol' Ben Sadler, he +put um out, an' when I come ter look at um, dey wuz a bairl er sump'n, +an' a kaig er sump'n, an' a box er sump'n. De bairl shuck like it +mought be lasses, an' de kaig shuck like it mought be dram, an' de box +hefted like it mought be terbarker. An', sho' 'nuff, dat what dey +wuz—a bairl er sorghum syr'p, an' a kaig er peach brandy, an' a box er +plug terbarker. +</P> + +<P> +"I say right den, an' Miss Vallie 'll tell you de same, dat Marse +Tumlin done gone an' swap off all his wil' lan', but Miss Vallie, she +say no; he won't never think er seen a thing; but, bless yo' soul, suh, +she wa'n't nothin' but a school-gal, you may say, an' she ain't know no +mo' 'bout men folks dan what a weasel do. An den, right 'pon top er +dat, here come a nigger boy leadin' a bob-tail hoss. When I see dat, I +dez good ez know'd dat de wil' lan' done been swap off, bekaze Marse +Tumlin ain't got nothin' fer ter buy all dem things wid, an' I tell you +right now, suh, I wuz rank mad, kase what we want wid any ol' bob-tail +hoss? De sorghum mought do, an' de dram kin be put up wid, an' de +terbarker got some comfort in it, but what de name er goodness we gwine +ter do wid dat ol' hoss, when we ain't got hardly 'nuff vittles fer ter +feed ourse'f wid? Dat what I ax Miss Vallie, an' she say right +pine-blank she dunno. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, suh, it's de Lord's trufe, I wuz dat mad I dunner what I say, +an' I wa'n't keerin' nudder, bekaze I know how we had ter pinch an' +squeeze fer ter git long in dis house. But I went 'bout gittin' +supper, an' bimeby, Hamp, he come, an' I told 'im 'bout de ol' bob-tail +hoss, an' he went out an' look at 'im. Atter while, here he come back +laughin', I say, 'You well ter laugh at dat ol' hoss.' He, 'low, 'I +ain't laughin' at de hoss. I'm laughin' at you. Gal, dat de finest +hoss what ever put foot on de groun' in dis town. Dat's Marse Paul +Conant's trottin' hoss. He'll fetch fi' hunder'd dollars any day. +What he doin' here?' I up an' tol' 'im all I know'd, an' he shuck his +head; he low, 'Gal, you lay low. Dey's sump'n n'er behime all dat.' +</P> + +<P> +"What Hamp say sorter make me put on my studyin'-cap; but when you come +ter look at it, suh, dey wa'n't nothin' 'tall fer me ter study 'bout. +All I had ter do wuz ter try ter fin' out what wuz behime it, an' let +it go at dat. When Marse Tumlin come home ter supper, I know'd sump'n +wuz de matter wid 'im. I know'd it by his looks, suh. It's sorter wid +folks like 'tis wid chillun. Ef you keer 'sump'n 'bout um you'll watch +der motions, and ef you watch der motions dey don't hatter tell you +when sump'n de matter. He come in so easy, suh, dat Miss Vallie ain't +hear 'im, but I hear de do' screak, an' I know'd 'twuz him. We wuz +talkin' an' gwine on at a mighty rate, an' I know'd he done stop ter +lis'n. +</P> + +<P> +"Miss Vallie, she low she 'speck somebody made 'im a present er dem ar +things. I say, 'Uh-uh, honey! don't you fool yo'se'f. Nobody ain't +gwine ter do dat. Our folks ain't no mo' like dey useter wuz, dan +crabapples is like plums. Dey done come ter dat pass dat whatsomever +dey gits der han's on dey 'fuse ter turn it loose. All un um, 'cep' +Marse Tumlin Perdue. Dey ain't no tellin' what he gun fer all dat +trash. <I>Trash</I>! Hit's wuss'n trash! I wish you'd go out dar an' look +at dat ol' bob-tail hoss. Why dat ol' hoss wuz stove up long 'fo' de +war. By rights he ought ter be in de bone-yard dis ve'y minnit. He +won't be here two whole days 'fo' you'll see de buzzards lined up out +dar on de back fence waitin', an' dey won't hatter wait long nudder. +Ef dey sen' any corn here fer ter feed dat bag er bones wid, I'll parch +it an' eat it myse'f 'fo' he shill have it. Ef anybody 'speck I'm +gwine ter 'ten' ter dat ol' frame, deyer 'speckin' wid de wrong specks, +I tell you dat right now.' +</P> + +<P> +"All dis time Marse Tumlin wuz stan'in' out in de hall lis'nin'. Miss +Vallie talk mighty sweet 'bout it. She say, 'Ef dey ain't nobody else +ter 'ten' de hoss, reckin I kin do it.' I low, 'My life er me, honey! +de nex' news you know you'll be hirin' out ter de liberty stable.' +</P> + +<P> +"Well, suh, my talk 'gun ter git so hot dat Marse Tumlin des had ter +make a fuss. He fumbled wid de do' knob, an' den come walkin' down de +hall, an' by dat time I wuz in de dinin'-room. I walk mighty light, +bekaze ef he say anything I want ter hear it. You can't call it +eave-drappin', suh; hit look ter me dat 'twuz ez much my business ez +'twuz dern, an' I ain't never got dat idee out'n my head down ter dis +day. +</P> + +<P> +"But Marse Tumlin ain't say nothin', 'cep' fer ter ax Miss Vallie ef +she feelin' well, an' how eve'ything wuz, but de minnit I hear 'im open +his mouf I know'd he had trouble on his min'. I can't tell you how I +know'd it, suh, but dar 'twuz. Look like he tried to hide it, bekaze +he tol' a whole lot of funny tales 'bout folks, an' 'twa'n't long befo' +he had Miss Vallie laughin' fit ter kill. But he ain't fool me, suh. +</P> + +<P> +"Bimeby, Miss Vallie, she come in de dinin'-room fer ter look atter +settin' de table, bekaze fum a little gal she allers like ter have de +dishes fix des so. She wuz sorter hummin' a chune, like she ain't want +ter talk, but I ain't let dat stan' in my way. +</P> + +<P> +"I low, 'I wish eve'ybody wuz like dat Mr. Paul Conant. I bet you +right now he been downtown dar all day makin' money han' over fist, des +ez fast ez he can rake it in. I know it, kaze I does his washin' and +cleans up his room fer 'im.' +</P> + +<P> +"Miss Vallie say, 'Well, what uv it? Money don't make 'im no better'n +anybody else.' I low, 'Hit don't make 'im no wuss; an' den, 'sides +dat, he ain't gwine ter let nobody swindle 'im.' +</P> + +<P> +"By dat time, I hatter go out an' fetch supper in, an' 'tain't take me +no time, bekaze I wuz des' achin' fer ter hear how Marse Tumlin come by +dem ar contraptions an' contrivances. An' I stayed in dar ter wait on +de table, which it ain't need no waitin' on. +</P> + +<P> +"Atter while, I low, 'Marse Tumlin, I like ter forgot ter tell +you—you' things done come.' He say, 'What things, Minervy Ann?' I +low, 'Dem ar contraptions, an' dat ar bob-tail hoss. He look mighty +lean an' hongry, de hoss do, but Hamp he say dat's bekaze he's a +high-bred hoss. He say dem ar high-bred hosses won't take on no fat, +no matter how much you feed urn.' +</P> + +<P> +"Marse Tumlin sorter drum on de table. Atter while he low, 'Dey done +come, is dey, Minervy Ann?' I say, 'Yasser, dey er here right now. +Hamp puts it down dat dat ar hoss oneer de gayliest creatur's what ever +make a track in dis town.' +</P> + +<P> +"Well, suh, 'tain't no use ter tell you what else wuz said, kaze +'twan't much. I seed dat Marse Tumlin wan't gwine ter talk 'bout it, +on account er bein' 'fear'd he'd hurt Miss Vallie's feelin's ef he tol' +'er dat he done swap off all dat wil' lan' fer dem ar things an' dat ar +bob-tail hoss. Dat what he done. Yasser! I hear 'im sesso +afterwards. He swap it off ter Marse Paul Conant. +</P> + +<P> +"I thank my Lord it come out all right, but it come mighty nigh bein' +de ruination er de fambly." +</P> + +<P> +"How was that?" I inquired. +</P> + +<P> +"Dat what I'm gwine ter tell you, suh. Right atter supper dat night, +Marse Tumlin say he got ter go down town fer ter see a man on some +business, an' he ax me ef I won't stay in de house dar wid Miss Vallie. +'Twa'n't no trouble ter me, bekaze I'd 'a' been on de place anyhow, an' +so when I got de kitchen cleaned up an' de things put away, I went back +in de house whar Miss Vallie wuz at Marse Tumlin wuz done gone. +</P> + +<P> +"Miss Vallie, she sot at de table doin' some kind er rufflin', an' I +sot back ag'in de wall in one er dem ar high-back cheers. What we said +I'll never tell you, suh, bekaze I'm one er deze kinder folks what +ain't no sooner set down an' git still dan dey goes ter noddin'. Dat's +me. Set me down in a cheer, high-back er low-back, an' I'm done gone! +I kin set here on de step an' keep des ez wide-'wake ez a skeer'd +rabbit, but set me down in a cheer—well, suh, I'd like ter see anybody +keep me 'wake when dat's de case. +</P> + +<P> +"Dar I sot in dat ar high-back cheer, Miss Vallie rufflin' an' flutin' +sump'n, an' tryin' ter make me talk, an' my head rollin' 'roun' like my +neck done broke. Bimeby, <I>blam</I>! <I>blam</I>! come on de do'. We got one +er dem ar jinglin' bells now, suh, but in dem times we had a knocker, +an' it soun' like de roof fallin' in. I like ter jumped out'n my skin. +Miss Vallie drapped her conflutements an' low, 'What in de worl'! Aunt +Minervy Ann, go ter de do.' +</P> + +<P> +"Well, suh, I went, but I ain't had no heart in it, bekaze I ain't know +who it mought be, an' whar dey come fum, an' what dey want. But I +went. 'Twuz me er Miss Vallie, an' I wan't gwine ter let dat chile go, +not dat time er night, dough 'twa'n't so mighty late. +</P> + +<P> +"I open de do' on de crack, I did, an' low, 'Who dat?' Somebody make +answer, 'Is de Major in, Aunt Minervy Ann?' an' I know'd right den it +wuz Marse Paul Conant. An' it come over me dat he had sump'n ter do +wid sendin' er dem contraptions, mo' 'speshually dat ar bob-tail hoss. +An' den, too, suh, lots quicker'n I kin tell it, hit come over me dat +he been axin' me lots 'bout Miss Vallie. All come 'cross my min', suh, +whiles I pullin' de do' open. +</P> + +<P> +"I low, I did, 'No, suh; Marse Tumlin gone down town fer ter look atter +some business, but he sho ter come back terreckly. Won't you come in, +suh, an' wait fer 'im?' He sorter flung his head back an' laugh, saft +like, an' say, 'I don't keer ef I do, Aunt Minervy Ann.' +</P> + +<P> +"I low, 'Walk right in de parlor, suh, an' I'll make a light mos' 'fo' +you kin turn 'roun'. He come in, he did, an' I lit de lamp, an' time I +lit 'er she 'gun ter smoke. Well, suh, he tuck dat lamp, run de wick +up an' down a time er two, an' dar she wuz, bright ez day. +</P> + +<P> +"When I went back in de room whar Miss Vallie wuz at, she wuz stan'in' +dar lookin' skeer'd. She say, 'Who dat?' I 'low, 'Hit's Marse Paul +Conant, dat's who 'tis.' She say, 'What he want?' I low, 'Nothin' +much; he does come a-courtin'. Better jump up an' not keep 'im +waitin'.' +</P> + +<P> +"Well, suh, you could 'a' knock'd 'er down wid a fedder. She stood dar +wid 'er han' on 'er th'oat takin' short breffs, des like a little bird +does when it flies in de winder an' dunner how ter fly out ag'in. +</P> + +<P> +"Bimeby, she say, 'Aunt Minervy Ann, you ought ter be 'shame or +yo'se'f! I know dat man when I see 'im, an' dat's all.' I low, +'Honey, you know mighty well he ain't come callin'. But he wanter see +Marse Tumlin, an' dey ain't nothin' fer ter hender you fum gwine in dar +an' makin' 'im feel at home whiles he waitin'.' She sorter study +awhile, an' den she blush up. She say, 'I dunno whedder I ought ter.' +</P> + +<P> +"Well, suh, dat settled it. I know'd by de way she look an' talk dat +she don't need no mo' 'swadin'. I say, 'All right, honey, do ez you +please; but it's yo' house; you er de mist'iss; an' it'll look mighty +funny ef dat young man got ter set in dar by hisse'f an' look at de +wall whiles he waitin' fer Marse Tumlin. I dunner what he'll say, kaze +I ain't never hear 'im talk 'bout nobody; but I know mighty well he'll +do a heap er thinkin'.' +</P> + +<P> +"Des like I tell you, suh—she skipped 'roun' dar, an' flung on 'er +Sunday frock, shuck out 'er curls, an' sorter fumble' 'roun' wid some +ribbons, an' dar she wuz, lookin' des ez fine ez a fiddle, ef not +finer. Den she swep' inter de parlor, an', you mayn't blieve it, suh, +but she mighty nigh tuck de man's breff 'way. Mon, she wuz purty, an' +she ain't do no mo' like deze eve'y-day gals dan nothin'. When she +start 'way fum me, she wuz a gal. By de time she walk up de hall an' +sweep in dat parlor, she wuz a grown 'oman. De blush what she had on +at fust stayed wid 'er an' look like 't wuz er natchual color, an' her +eyes shine, suh, like she had fire in um. I peeped at 'er, suh, fum +behime de curtains in de settin'-room, an' I know what I'm talkin' +'bout. It's de Lord's trufe, suh, ef de men folks could tote derse'f +like de wimmen, an' do one way whiles dey feelin' annuder way, dey +wouldn't be no livin' in de worl'. You take a school gal, suh, an' she +kin fool de smartest man what ever trod shoe leather. He may talk wid +'er all day an' half de night, an' he never is ter fin' out what she +thinkin' 'bout. Sometimes de gals fools deyse'f, suh, but dat's mighty +seldom. +</P> + +<P> +"I dunner what all dey say, kaze I ain't been in dar so mighty long +'fo' I wuz nodding but I did hear Marse Paul say he des drapt in fer +'pollygize 'bout a little joke he played on Marse Tumlin. Miss Vallie +ax what wuz de joke, an' he low dat Marse Tumlin wuz banterin' folks +fer ter buy his wil' lan'; an' Marse Paul ax 'im what he take fer it, +an' Marse Tumlin low he'll take anything what he can chaw, sop, er +drink. Dem wuz de words—-chaw, sop, er drink. Wid dat, Marse Paul +say he'd gi' 'im a box er terbarker, a bairl er syr'p, an' a kaig er +peach brandy an' th'ow in his buggy-hoss fer good medjer. Marse Tomlin +say 'done' an' dey shuck han's on it. Dat what Marse Paul tol' Miss +Vallie, an he 'low he des done it fer fun, kaze he done looked inter +dat wil' lan', an' he low she's wuff a pile er money. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, suh, 'bout dat time, I 'gun ter nod, an' de fus news I know'd +Miss Vallie wuz whackin' 'way on de peanner, an' it look like ter me +she wuz des tryin' 'erse'f. By dat time, dey wuz gettin' right chummy, +an' so I des curl up on de flo', an' dream dat de peanner chunes wuz +comin' out'n a bairl des like lasses. +</P> + +<P> +"When I waked up, Marse Paul Conant done gone, an' Marse Tumlin ain't +come, an' Miss Vallie wuz settin' dar in de parlor lookin' up at de +ceilin' like she got some mighty long thoughts. Her color wuz still +up. I look at 'er an' laugh, an' she made a mouf at me, an' I say ter +myse'f, 'Hey! sump'n de matter here, sho,' but I say out loud, 'Marse +Paul Conant sho gwine ter ax me ef you ain't had a dram.' She laugh +an' say, 'What answer you gwine ter make?' I low, 'I'll bow an' say, +"No, suh; I'm de one dat drinks all de dram fer de fambly."' +</P> + +<P> +"Well, suh, dat chile sot in ter laughin', an' she laugh an' laugh twel +she went inter highsterics. She wuz keyed up too high, ez you mought +say, an' dat's de way she come down agin. Bimeby, Marse Tumlin come, +an' Miss Vallie, she tol' 'm 'bout how Marse Paul done been dar; an' he +sot dar, he did, an' hummed an' haw'd, an' done so funny dat, bimeby, I +low, 'Well, folks, I'll hatter tell you good-night,' an' wid dat I went +out." +</P> + +<P> +At this point Aunt Minervy leaned forward, clasped her hands over her +knees, and shook her head. When she took up the thread of her +narrative, if it can be called such, the tone of her voice was more +subdued, almost confidential, in fact. +</P> + +<P> +"Nex' mornin' wuz my wash-day, suh, an' 'bout ten o'clock, when I got +ready, dey want no bluin' in de house an' mighty little soap. I hunted +high an' I hunted low, but no bluin' kin I fin'. An' dat make me mad, +bekaze ef I hatter go down town atter de bluin', my wash-day'll be +broke inter. But 'tain't no good fer ter git mad, bekaze I wuz bleeze +ter go atter de bluin'. So I tighten up my head-hankcher, an' flung a +cape on my shoulders an' put out. +</P> + +<P> +"I 'speck you know how 'tis, suh. You can't go down town but what +you'll see nigger wimmen stan'in' out in de front yards lookin' over de +palin's. Dey all know'd me an' I know'd dem, an' de las' blessed one +un um hatter hail me ez I go by, an' I hatter stop an' pass de time er +day, kaze ef I'd 'a' whipt on by, dey'd 'a' said I wuz gwine back bofe +on my church an' on my color. I dunner how long dey kep' me, but time +I got ter Proctor's sto', I know'd I'd been on de way too long. +</P> + +<P> +"I notice a crowd er men out dar, some settin' an' some stan'in', but I +run'd in, I did, an' de young man what do de clerkin', he foller me in +an' ax what I want. I say I want a dime's wuff er bluin', an' fer ter +please, suh, wrop it up des ez quick ez he kin. I tuck notice dat +while he wuz gittin' it out'n de box, he sorter stop like he lis'nin' +an' den agin, whiles he had it in de scoop des ready fer ter drap it in +de scales, he held his han' an' wait. Den I know'd he wuz lis'nin'. +</P> + +<P> +"Dat makes me lis'n, an' den I hear Marse Tumlin talkin', an' time I +hear 'im I know'd he wuz errytated. Twa'n't bekaze he wuz talkin' +loud, suh, but 'twuz bekaze he wuz talkin' level. When he talk loud, +he feelin' good. When he talk low, an' one word soun' same ez anudder, +den somebody better git out'n his way. I lef' de counter an' step ter +de do' fer ter see what de matter wuz betwix' um. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, suh, dar wuz Marse Tumlin stan'in' dar close ter Tom Ferryman. +Marse Tumlin, low, 'Maybe de law done 'pinted you my gyardeen. How you +know I been swindled?' Tom Ferryman say, 'Bekaze I hear you say he +bought yo' wil' lan' fer a little er nothin'. He'll swindle you ef you +trade wid 'im, an' you done trade wid 'im.' Marse Tumlin low, 'Is Paul +Conant ever swindle <I>you</I>?' Tom Ferryman say, 'No, he ain't, an' ef he +wuz ter I'd give 'im a kickin'.' Marse Tumlin low, 'Well, you know you +is a swindler, an' nobody ain't kick you. How come dat?' Tom Ferryman +say, 'Ef you say I'm a swindler, you're a liar.' +</P> + +<P> +"Well, suh, de man ain't no sooner say dat dan <I>bang</I>! went Marse +Tumlin's pistol, an' des ez it banged Marse Paul Conant run 'twix' um, +an' de ball went right spang th'oo de collar-bone an' sorter sideways +th'oo de pint er de shoulder-blade. Marse Tumlin drapt his pistol an' +cotch 'im ez he fell an' knelt down dar by 'im, an' all de time dat ar +Tom Ferryman wuz stan'in' right over um wid his pistol in his han'. I +squall out, I did, 'Whyn't some er you white men take dat man pistol +'way fum 'im? Don't you see what he fixin' ter do?' +</P> + +<P> +"I run'd at 'im, an' he sorter flung back wid his arm, an' when he done +dat somebody grab 'im fum behind. All dat time Marse Tumlin wuz axin' +Marse Paul Conant ef he hurt much. I hear 'im say, 'I wouldn't 'a' +done it fer de worl', Conant—not fer de worl'.' Den de doctor, he +come up, an' Marse Tumlin, he pester de man twel he hear 'im say, +'Don't worry, Major; dis boy'll live ter be a older man dan you ever +will.' Den Marse Tumlin got his pistol an' hunt up an' down fer dat ar +Tom Ferryman, but he done gone. I seed 'im when he got on his hoss. +</P> + +<P> +"I say to Marse Tumlin, 'Ain't you des ez well ter fetch Marse Paul +Conant home whar we all kin take keer uv 'im?' He low, 'Dat's a +<I>fack</I>. Go home an' tell yo' Miss Vallie fer ter have de big room +fixed up time we git dar wid 'im.' I say, 'Humph! I'll fix it myse'f; +I know'd I ain't gwine ter let Miss Vallie do it.' +</P> + +<P> +"Well, suh, 'tain't no use fer ter tell yer de rest. Dar's dat ar baby +in dar, an' what mo' sign does you want ter show you dat it all turned +out des like one er dem ol'-time tales?" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap14"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +A KENTUCKY CINDERELLA +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +By F. HOPKINSON SMITH +</H4> + +<P CLASS="intro"> +Copyright 1899 by F. Hopkinson Smith. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +I was bending over my easel, hard at work upon a full-length portrait +of a young girl in a costume of fifty years ago, when the door of my +studio opened softly and Aunt Chloe came in. +</P> + +<P> +"Good-mawnin', suh! I didn' think you'd come to-day, bein' a Sunday," +she said, with a slight bend of her knees. "I'll jes' sweep up a lil +mite; doan' ye move, I won't 'sturb ye." +</P> + +<P> +Aunt Chloe had first opened my door a year before with a note from +Marny, a brother brush, which began with "Here is an old Southern mammy +who has seen better days; paint her if you can," and ended with, "Any +way, give her a job." +</P> + +<P> +The bearer of the note was indeed the ideal mammy, even to the bandanna +handkerchief bound about her head, and the capacious waist and ample +bosom—the lullaby resting-place for many a child, white and black. I +had never seen a real one in the flesh before. I had heard about them +in my earlier days. Daddy Billy, my father's body servant and my +father's slave, who lived to be ninety-four, had told me of his own +Aunt Mirey, who had died in the old days, but too far back for me to +remember. And I had listened, when a boy, to the traditions connected +with the plantations of my ancestors,—of the Keziahs and Mammy +Crouches and Mammy Janes,—but I had never looked into the eyes of one +of the old school until I saw Aunt Chloe, nor had I ever fully realized +how quaintly courteous and gentle one of them could be until, with an +old-time manner, born of a training seldom found outside of the old +Southern homes, she bent forward, spread her apron with both hands, and +with a little backward dip had said as she left me that first day: +"Thank ye, suh! I'll come eve'y Sunday mawnin'. I'll do my best to +please ye, an' I specs I kin." +</P> + +<P> +I do not often work on Sunday, but my picture had been too long delayed +waiting for a faded wedding dress worn once by the original when she +was a bride, and which had only been found when two of her descendants +had ransacked their respective garrets. +</P> + +<P> +"Mus' be mighty driv, suh," she said, "a workin' on de Sabbath day. +Golly, but dat's a purty lady!" and she put down her pail. "I see it +las' Sunday when I come in, but she didn't had dem ruffles 'round her +neck den dat you done gib her. 'Clar' to goodness, dat chile look like +she was jes' a-gwine to speak." +</P> + +<P> +Aunt Chloe was leaning on her broom, her eyes scrutinizing the portrait. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, if dat doan' beat de lan'. I ain't never seen none o' dem +frocks since de ole times. An' dem lil low shoes wid de ribbons +crossed on de ankles! She's de livin' pussonecation—she is so, for a +fac'. Uhm! Uh!" (It is difficult to convey this peculiar sound of +complete approval in so many letters.) +</P> + +<P> +"Did you ever know anybody like her?" I asked. +</P> + +<P> +The old woman straightened her back, and for a moment her eyes looked +into mine. I had often tried to draw from her something of her earlier +life, but she had always evaded my questions. Marny had told me that +his attempts had at first been equally disappointing. +</P> + +<P> +"Body as ole's me, suh, seen a plenty o' people." Then her eyes sought +the canvas again. +</P> + +<P> +After a moment's pause she said, as if to herself: "You's de real +quality, chile, dat you is; eve'y spec an' spinch o' ye." +</P> + +<P> +I tried again. +</P> + +<P> +"Does it look like anybody you ever saw, Aunt Chloe?" +</P> + +<P> +"It do an' it don't," she answered critically. "De feet is like hern, +but de eyes ain't." +</P> + +<P> +"Who?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, Miss Nannie." And she leaned again on her broom and looked down +on the floor. +</P> + +<P> +I heaped up a little pile of pigments on one corner of my palette and +flattened them for a high light on a fold in the satin gown. +</P> + +<P> +"Who was Miss Nannie?" I asked carelessly. I was afraid the thread +would break if I pulled too hard. +</P> + +<P> +"One o' my chillen, honey." A peculiar softness came into her voice. +</P> + +<P> +"Tell me about her. It will help me get her eyes right, so you can +remember her better. They don't look human enough to me anyhow" (this +last to myself). "Where did she live?" +</P> + +<P> +"Where dey all live—-down in de big house. She warn't Marse Henry's +real chile, but she come o' de blood. She didn't hab dem kind o' shoes +on her footses when I fust see her, but she wore 'em when she lef' me. +Dat she did." Her voice rose suddenly and her eyes brightened. "And +dem ain't nothin' to de way dey shined. I ain't never seen no satin +slippers shine like dem slippers; dey was jes' ablaze!" +</P> + +<P> +I worked on in silence. Marny had cautioned me not to be too curious. +Some day she might open her heart and tell me wonderful stories of her +earlier life, but I must not appear too anxious. She had become rather +suspicious of strangers since she had moved North and lost track of her +own people, Marny had said. +</P> + +<P> +Aunt Chloe picked up her pail and began moving some easels into a far +corner of my studio and piling the chairs in a heap. This done, she +stopped again and stood behind me, looking intently at the canvas over +my shoulder. +</P> + +<P> +"My! My! ain't dat de ve'y image of dat frock? I kin see it now jes' +as Miss Nannie come down de stairs. But you got to put dat gold chain +on it 'fore it gits to be de ve'y 'spress image. I had it roun' my own +neck once; I knew jes' how it looked." +</P> + +<P> +I laid down my palette, and picking up a piece of chalk asked her to +describe it so that I could make an outline. +</P> + +<P> +"It was long an' heavy, an' it woun' roun' de neck twice an' hung down +to de wais'. An' dat watch on de end of it! Well, I ain't seen none +like dat one sence. I 'clar' to ye it was jes' 's teeny as one o' dem +lil biscuits I used to make for 'er when she come in de kitchen—an' +she was dere most of de time. Dey didn't care nuffin for her much. +Let 'er go roun' barefoot half de time, an' her hair a-flyin'. Only +one good frock to her name, an' dat warn't nuffin but calico. I used +to wash dat many a time for her long 'fore she was outen her bed. +Allus makes my blood bile to dis day whenever I think of de way dey +treated dat chile. But it didn't make no diff'ence what she had +on—shoes or no shoes—her footses was dat lil. An' purty! Wid her +big eyes an' her cheeks jes' 's fresh as dem rosewater roses dat I used +to snip off for ole Sam to put on de table. Oh! I tell ye, if ye could +picter her like dat dey wouldn't be nobody clear from here to glory +could come nigh her." +</P> + +<P> +Aunt Chloe's eyes were kindling with every word. I remembered Marny's +warning and kept stil. I had abandoned the sketch of the chain as an +unnecessary incentive, and had begun again with my palette knife, +pottering away, nodding appreciatingly, and now and then putting a +question to clear up some tangled situation as to dates and localities +which her rambling talk had left unsettled. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, suh, down in the blue grass country, near Lexin'ton, Kentucky, +whar my ole master, Marse Henry Gordon, lived," she answered to my +inquiry as to where this all happened. "I used to go eve'y year to see +him after de war was over, an' kep' it up till he died. Dere warn't +nobody like him den, an' dere ain't none now. He warn't never spiteful +to chillen, white or black. Eve'ybody knowed dat. I was a pickaninny +myse'f, an' I belonged to him. An' he ain't never laid a lick on me, +an' he wouldn't let nobody else do 't nuther, 'cept my mammy. I +'members one time when Aunt Dinah made cake dat ole Sam—he war a heap +younger den—couldn't put it on de table 'ca'se dere was a piece broke +out'n it. Sam he riz, an' Dinah she riz, an' after dey'd called each +other all de names dey could lay dere tongues to, Miss Ann, my own fust +mist'ess, come in an' she say dem chillen tuk dat cake, an' 't ain't +nary one o' ye dat's 'sponsible. 'What's dis,' says Marse +Henry—'chillen stealin' cake? Send 'em here to me!' When we all come +in—dere was six or eight of us—he says, 'Eve'y one o' ye look me in +de eye; now which one tuk it?' I kep' lookin' away,—fust on de flo' +an' den out de windy. 'Look at me,' he says agin. 'You ain't lookin', +Clorindy.' Den I cotched him watchin' me. 'Now you all go out,' he +says, 'and de one dat's guilty kin come back agin.' Den we all went +out in de yard. 'You tell him,' says one. 'No, you tell him;' an' +dat's de way it went on. I knowed I was de wustest, for I opened de +door o' de sideboard an' gin it to de others. Den I thought, if I +don't tell him mebbe he'll lick de whole passel on us, an' dat ain't +right; but if I go tell him an' beg his 'umble pardon he might lemme +go. So I crep' 'round where he was a-settin' wid his book on his +knee,"—Aunt Chloe was now moving stealthily behind me, her eyes fixed +on her imaginary master, head down, one finger in her mouth,—"an' I +say, 'Marse Henry!' An' he look up an' say, 'Who's dat?' An' I say, +'Dat's Clorindy.' An' he say, 'What you want?' 'Marse Henry, I come +to tell ye I was hungry, an' I see de door open an' I shove it back an' +tuk de piece o' cake, an' I thought maybe if I done tole ye you'd +forgib me.' +</P> + +<P> +"'Den you is de ringleader,' he says, 'an' you tempted de other +chillen?' 'Yes,' I says, 'I 'spec' so.' 'Well,' he says, lookin' down +on de carpet, 'now dat you has perfessed an' beg pardon, you is good +an' ready to pay 'tention to what I'm gwine to say.' De other chillen +had sneaked up an' was listenin'; dey 'spected to see me git it, though +dere ain't nary one of 'em ever knowed him to strike 'em a lick. Den +he says: 'Dis here is a lil thing,—dis stealin' a cake; an' it's a big +thing at de same time. Miss Ann has been right smart put out 'bout it, +an' I'm gwine to see dat it don't happen agin. If you see a pin on de +fl'or you wouldn't steal it,—you'd pick it up if you wanted it, an' it +wouldn't be nuffin, 'cause somebody th'owed it away an' it was free to +eve'body; but if you see a piece o' money on de fl'or, you knowed +nobody didn't th'ow dat away, an' if you pick it up an' don't tell, +dat's somethin' else—dat's stealin', 'cause you tuk somethin' dat +somebody else has paid somethin' for an' dat belongs to him. Now dis +cake ain't o' much 'count, but it warn't yourn, an' you oughtn't to ha' +tuk it. If you'd asked yo'r mist'ess for it she'd gin you a piece. +There ain't nuffin here you chillen doan' git when ye ask for it.' I +didn't say nuffin more. I jes' waited for him to do anythin' he wanted +to me. Den he looks at de carpet for a long time an' he says:— +</P> + +<P> +"'I reckon you won't take no mo' cake 'thout askin' for it, Clorindy, +an' you chillen kin go out an' play agin.'" +</P> + +<P> +The tears were now standing in her eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"Dat's what my ole master was, suh; I ain't never forgot it. If he had +beat me to death he couldn't 'a' done no mo' for me. He jes' splained +to me an' I ain't never forgot since." +</P> + +<P> +"Did your own mother find it out?" I asked. +</P> + +<P> +The tears were gone now; her face was radiant again at my question. +</P> + +<P> +"Dat she did, suh. One o' de chillen done tole on me. Mammy jes' made +one grab as I run pas' de kitchen door, an' reached for a barrel stave, +an' she fairly sot—me—afire!" +</P> + +<P> +Aunt Chloe was now holding her sides with laughter, fresh tears +streaming down her cheeks. +</P> + +<P> +"But Marse Henry never knowed it. Lawd, suh, dere ain't nobody round +here like him, nor never was. I kin 'member him now same as it was +yesterday, wid his white hair, an' he a-settin' in his big chair. It +was de las' time I ever see him. De big house was gone, an' de colored +people was gone, an' he was dat po' he didn't know where de nex' +moufful was a-comin' from. I come out behind him so,"—Aunt Chloe made +me her old master and my stool his rocking-chair,—"an' I pat him on +the shoulder dis way, an' he say, 'Chloe, is dat you? How is it yo' +looks so comfble like?' An' I say, 'It's you, Marse Henry; you done it +all; yo' teachin' made me what I is, an' if you study about it you'll +know it's so. An' de others ain't no wus'. Of all de colored people +you owned, dere ain't nary one been hung, or been in de penitentiary, +nor ain't knowed as liars. Dat's de way you fotch us up.' +</P> + +<P> +"An' I love him yet, an' if he was a-livin' to-day I'd work for him an' +take care of him if I went hungry myse'f. De only fool thing Marster +Henry ever done was a-marryin' dat widow woman for his second wife. +Miss Nannie, dat looks a lil bit like dat chile you got dere before +ye"—and she pointed to the canvas—"wouldn't a been sot on an' 'bused +like she was but for her. Dat woman warn't nuffin but a harf-strainer +noway, if I do say it. Eve'body knowed dat. How Marse Henry Gordon +come to marry her nobody don't know till dis day. She warn't none o' +our people. Dey do say dat he met her up to Frankfort when he was in +de Legislator, but I don't know if dat's so. But she warn't nuffin, +nohow." +</P> + +<P> +"Was Miss Nannie her child?" I asked, stepping back from my easel to +get the better effect of my canvas. +</P> + +<P> +"No suh, dat she warn't!" with emphasis. "She was Marse Henry's own +sister's chile, she was. Her people—Miss Nannie's—lived up in +Indiany, an' dey was jes' 's po' as watermelon rinds, and when her +mother died Marse Henry sent for her to come live wid him, 'cause he +said Miss Rachel—dat was dat woman's own chile by her fust +husband—was lonesome. Dey was bofe about de one age,—fo'teen or +fifteen years old,—but Lawd-a-massy! Miss Rachel warn't lonesome +'cept for what he couldn't git, an' she most broke her heart 'bout dat, +much 's she could break it 'bout anything. +</P> + +<P> +"I remember de ve'y day Miss Nannie come. I see her comin' down de +road totin' a big ban'box, an' a carpet bag mos 's big 's herse'f. Den +she turned in de gate. ''Fo' God,' I says to ole Sam, who was settin' +de table for dinner, 'who's dis yere comin' in?' Den I see her stop +an' set de bundles down an' catch her bref, and den she come on agin. +</P> + +<P> +"'Dat's Marse Henry's niece,' he says. 'I heared de mistress say she +was a-comin' one day dis week by de coach.' +</P> + +<P> +"I see right away dat dat woman was up to one of her tricks; she didn't +'tend to let dat chile come no other way 'cept like a servant; she was +dat dirt mean. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, you needn't look, suh! I ain't meanin' no onrespect, but I knowed +dat woman when Marse Henry fust married her, an' she ain't never fooled +me once. Fust time she come into de house she walked plumb in de +kitchen, where me an' old Sam an' ole Dinah was a-eaten our dinner, we +setten at de table like we useter did, and she flung her head up in de +air and she says: 'After dis when I come in I want you niggers to git +up on yo' feet.' Think o' dat, will ye? Marse Henry never called nary +one of us nigger since we was pickaninnies. I knowed den she warn't +'customed to nuthin'. But I tell ye she never put on dem kind o' airs +when Marse Henry was about. No, suh. She was always mighty sugar-like +to him when he was home, but dere ain't no conniption she warn't up to +when he couldn't hear of it. She had purty nigh riz de roof when he +done tell her dat Miss Nannie was a-comin' to live wid 'em, but she +couldn't stand agin him, for warn't her only daughter, Miss Rachel, +livin' on him, an' not only Miss Rachel, but lots mo' of her people +where she come from? +</P> + +<P> +"Well, suh, as soon as ole Sam said what chile it was dat was a-comin' +down de road I dropped my dishcloth an' I run out to meet 'er. +</P> + +<P> +"'Is you Miss Nannie?' I says. 'Gimme dat bag,' I says, 'an' dat box.' +</P> + +<P> +"'Yes,' she says, 'dat's me, an' ain't you Aunt Chloe what I heared so +much about?' +</P> + +<P> +"Honey, you ain't never gwine to git de kind o' look on dat picter +you's workin' on dere, suh, as sweet as dat chile's face when she said +dat to me. I loved her from dat fust minute I see her, an' I loved her +ever since, jes' as I loved her mother befo' her. +</P> + +<P> +"When she got to de house, me a-totin' de things on behind, de mist'ess +come out on de po'ch. +</P> + +<P> +"'Oh, dat's you, is it, Nannie?' she says. 'Well, Chloe'll tell ye +where to go,' an' she went straight in de house agin. Never kissed +her, nor touched her, nor nuffin! +</P> + +<P> +"Ole Sam was bilin'. He heard her say it, an' if he was alive he'd +tell ye same as me. +</P> + +<P> +"'Where's she gwine to sleep?' I says, callin' after her; 'upstairs +long wid Miss Rachel?' I was gittin' hot myse'f, though I didn't say +nuffin. +</P> + +<P> +"'No,' she says, flingin' up her head like a goat; 'my daughter needs +all de room she's got. You kin take her downstairs an' fix up a place +for her longside o' you an' Dinah.' She was de old cook. +</P> + +<P> +"'Come long,' I says, 'Miss Nannie,' an' I dropped a curtsey same's if +she was a princess. An' so she was, an' Marse Henry's own eyes in her +head, an' 'nough like him to be his own chile. 'I'll hab ev'ything +ready for ye,' I says. 'You wait here an' take de air,' an' I got a +chair an' sot her down on de po'ch, an' ole Sam brung her some cake, +an' I went to git de room ready—de room offn de kitchen pantry, where +dey puts de overseer's chillen when dey come to see him. +</P> + +<P> +"Purty soon Miss Rachel come down an' went up an' kissed her—dat is, +Sam said so, though I ain't never seen her kiss her dat time nor no +other time. Miss Rachel an' de mist'ess was bofe split out o' de same +piece o' kindlin', an' what one was agin t' other was agin—a blind man +could see dat Miss Rachel never liked Miss Nannie from de fust, she was +dat cross-grained and pernicketty. No matter what Miss Nannie done to +please her it warn't good 'nough for her. Why, do you know, when de +other chillen come over from de nex' plantation Miss Rachel wouldn't +send for Miss Nannie to come in de parlor. No, suh, dat she wouldn't! +An' dey'd run off an' leave her, too, when dey was gwine picknickin', +an' treat dat chile owdacious, sayin' she was po' white trash, an' +charity chile, an' things like dat, till I would go an' tell Marse +Henry 'bout it. Den dere would be a 'ruction, an' Marse Henry'd blaze +out, an' jes 's soon's he was off agin to Frankfort—an' he was dere +mos' of de time, for he was one o' dese yere ole-timers dat dey +couldn't git long widout at de Legislator—dey'd treat her wus'n ever. +Soon's Dinah an' me see dat, we kep' Miss Nannie long wid us much as we +could. She'd eat wid 'em when dere warn't no company 'round, but dat +was 'bout all." +</P> + +<P> +"Did they send her to school?" I asked, fearing she would again lose +the thread. My picture had a new meaning for me now that it looked +like her heroine. +</P> + +<P> +"No, suh, dat dey didn't, 'cept to de schoolhouse at de cross-roads +whar everybody's chillen went. But dey sent Miss Rachel to a real +highty-tighty school, dat dey did, down to Louisville. Two winters she +was dere, an' eve'y time when she come home for holiday times she had +mo' airs dan when she went away. Marse Henry wanted bofe chillen to +go, but dat woman outdid him, an' she faced him up an' down dat dere +warn't money 'nough for two, an' dat her daughter was de fittenest, an' +all dat, an' he give in. I didn't hear it, but ole Sam did, an' his +han' shook so he mos' spilt de soup. But law, honey, dat didn't make +no diff'ence to Miss Nannie. She'd go off by herse'f wid her books an' +sit all day under de trees, an' sing to herse'f jes' like a bird, an' +dey'd sing to her, an' all dat time her face was a-beamin' an' her hair +shinin' like gold, an' she a-growin' taller, an' her eyes gittin' +bigger an' bigger, an' brighter, an' her little footses white an' +cunnin' as a rabbit's. +</P> + +<P> +"De only place whar she did go outside de big house was over to Mis' +Morgan's, who lived on de nex' plantation. Miss Morgan didn't hab no +chillen of her own, an' she'd send for Miss Nannie to come an' keep her +company, she was dat dead lonesome, an' dey was glad 'nough to let dat +chile go so dey could git her out o' de house. Ole Sam allers said +dat, for he heared 'em talk at table an' knowed what was gwine on. +</P> + +<P> +"Purty soon long come de time when Miss Rachel done finish her +eddication, an' she come back to de big house an' sot herse'f up to +'ceive company. She warn't bad lookin' in dem days, I mus' say, an' if +dat woman's sperit hadn't 'a' been in her she might 'a' pulled through. +But dere warn't no fetching up could stand agin dat blood. Miss Rachel +'d git dat ornery dat you could n't do nuffin wid her, jes' like her +maw. De fust real out-an'-out beau she had was Dr. Tom Boling. He +lived 'bout fo'teen miles out o' Lexin'ton on de big plantation, an' +was de richest young man in our parts. His paw had died 'bout two +years befo' an' lef' him mo' money dan he could th'ow away, an' he'd +jes' come back from Philadelphy, whar he'd been a-learnin' to be a +doctor. He met Miss Rachel at a party in Louisville, an' de fust +Sunday she come home he driv over to see her. If ye could 'a' seen de +mist'ess when she see him comin' in de gate! All in his ridin' boots +an' his yaller breeches an' bottle-green coat, an' his servant a-ridin' +behind to hold de horses. +</P> + +<P> +"Ole Sam an' me was a-watchin' de mist'ess peekin' th'ough de blind at +him, her eyes a-blazin', an' Sam laughed so he had to stuff a napkin in +his mouf to keep 'er from hearin' him. Well, suh, dat went on all de +summer. Eve'y time he come de mist'ess 'd be dat sweet mos' make a +body sick to see her, an' when he'd stay away she was dat pesky dere +warn't no livin' wid her. Of co'se dere was plenty mo' gemmen co'rting +Miss Rachel, too, but none o' dem didn't count wid de mist'ess 'cept de +doctor, 'cause he was rich, dat's all dere was to 't, 'cause he was +rich. I tell ye ole Sam had to tell many a lie to the other gemmen, +sayin' Miss Rachel was sick or somethin' else when she was a-waitin' +for de doctor to come, and was feared he might meet some of 'em an' git +skeered away. +</P> + +<P> +"Miss Nannie, she'd watch him, too, from behind de kitchen door, or +scrunched down lookin' over de pantry winder sill, an' den she'd tell +Dinah an' me what he did, an' how he got off his horse an' han' de +reins to de boy, an' slap his boots wid his ridin' whip, like he was +a-dustin' off a fly. An' she'd act it all out for me an' Dinah, an' +slap her own frock, an' den she'd laugh fit to kill herse'f an' dance +all 'round de kitchen. Would yo' believe it? No! dere ain't nobody 'd +believe it. Dey never asked her to come in once while he was in de +parlor, an' dey never once tole him dat Miss Nannie was a-livin' on de +top side o' de yearth! +</P> + +<P> +"Co'se people 'gin to talk, an' ev'ybody said dat Dr. Boling was +gittin' nighest de coon, an' dat fust thing dey'd know dere would be a +weddin' in de Gordon fambly. An' den agin dere was plenty mo' people +said he was only passin' de time wid Miss Rachel, an' dat he come to +see Marse Henry to talk pol'tics. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, one day, suh, I was a-standin' in de door an' I see him come in +a-foot, widout his horse an' servant, an' step up on de po'ch quick an' +rap at de do', like he say to himse'f, 'Lemme in; I'm in a hurry; I got +somethin' on my mind.' Ole Sam was jes' a-gwine to open de do' for him +when Miss Nannie come a-runnin' in de kitchen from de yard, her cheeks +like de roses, her hair a-flyin', an' her big hat hangin' to a string +down her back. I gin Sam one look an' he stopped, an' I says to Miss +Nannie, 'Run, honey,' I says, 'an' open de do' for ole Sam; I spec',' I +says, 'it's one o' dem peddlers.' +</P> + +<P> +"If you could 'a' seen dat chile's face when she come back!" +</P> + +<P> +Aunt Chloe's hands were now waving above her head, her mouth wide open +in her merriment, every tooth shining. +</P> + +<P> +"She was white one minute an' red as a beet the nex'. 'Oh, Aunt Chloe, +what did you let me go for?' she says. 'Oh! I wouldn't 'a' let him +see me like dis for anythin' in de wo'ld. Oh, I'm dat put out.' +</P> + +<P> +"'What did he say to ye, honey?' I says. +</P> + +<P> +"'He didn't say nuffin; he jes' look at me an' say he beg my pardon, +an' was Miss Rachel in, an' den I said I'd run an' tell her, an' when I +come downstairs agin he was a-standin' in de hall wid his eyes up de +staircase, an' he never stopped lookin' at me till I come down.' +</P> + +<P> +"'Well, dat won't do you no harm, chile,' I says; 'a cat kin look at a +king.' +</P> + +<P> +"Ole Sam was a-watchin' her, too, an' when she'd gone in her leetle +room an' shet de do' Sam says, 'I'll lay if Marse Tom Boling had +anythin' on his mind when he come here to-day it's mighty onsettled by +dis time.' +</P> + +<P> +"Nex' time Dr. Tom Boling come he say to de mist'ess, 'Who's dat young +lady,' he says, 'dat opened de door for me las' time I was here? I +hoped to see her agin. Is she in?' +</P> + +<P> +"Den dey bofe cooked up some lie' bout her bein' over to Mis' Morgan's +or somethin', an' as soon 's he was gone dey come down an' riz Sam for +not 'tendin' de door an' lettin' dat ragged fly-away gal open it. Den +dey went for Miss Nannie till dey made her cry, an' she come to me, an' +I took her in my lap an' comfo'ted her like I allers did. +</P> + +<P> +"De nex' time he come he says, 'I hear dat yo'r niece, Miss Nannie +Barnes, is livin' wid you, an' dat she is ve'y 'sclusive. I hope dat +you'll 'suade her to come in de parlor,' he says. Dem was his ve'y +words. Sam was a-standin' close to him as I am to you an' he heared +him. +</P> + +<P> +"'She ain't yet in s'ciety,' de mist'ess says, 'an' she's dat wild dat +we can't p'esent her.' +</P> + +<P> +"'Oh! is dat so?' he says. 'Is she in now?' +</P> + +<P> +"'No,' she says, 'she's over to Mis' Morgan's.' +</P> + +<P> +"Dat was a fac' dis time; she'd gone dat very mawnin'. Den Miss Rachel +come down, an' co'se Sam didn't hear no mo' 'cause he had to go out. +Purty soon out de doctor come. Dese visits, min' ye, was gittin' +shorter an' shorter, though he do come as often, an' over he goes to +Mis' Morgan's hisse'f. +</P> + +<P> +"Now I doan' know what he said to Miss Nannie, or what passed 'twixt +'em, 'cause she didn't tell me. Only dat she said he had come to see +Mis' Morgan 'bout some land matters, an' dat Mis' Morgan interjuced +'em, but nuffin mo'. Lord bless dat chile! An', suh, dat was de fust +time she ever kep' anythin' from her ole mammy. Dat made me mo' glad +'n ever. I knowed den dey was bofe hit. +</P> + +<P> +"But my lah', de fur begin to fly when de mist'ess an' Miss Rachel +heared 'bout dat visit! +</P> + +<P> +"'What you mean by makin' eyes at Dr. Boling? Don't you know he's good +as 'gaged to my daughter?' de mist'ess said. Dat was a lie, for he +never said a word to Miss Rachel; ole Sam could tole you dat. 'Git out +o' my house, you good-for-nothin' pauper, an' take yo' rags wid ye.' +</P> + +<P> +"I see right away de fat was in de fire. Marse Henry warn't 'spected +home till de nex' Sunday, an' so I tuk her over to Mis' Morgan, an' den +I ups an' tells her everything dat woman had done to dat chile since de +day she come. An' when I'd done she tuk Miss Nannie by de han' an' she +says:— +</P> + +<P> +"'You won't never want a home, chile, so long as I live. Go back, +Chloe, an' git her clo'es.' But I didn't git 'em. I knowed Marse +Henry 'd raise de roof when he come, an' he did, bless yo' heart. Went +over hisse'f an' got her, an' brought her home, an' dat night when Dr. +Boling come he made her sit down in de parlor, an' 'fo' he went home +dat night de Doctor he say to Marse Henry, 'I want yo' permission, +Mister Gordon, to pay my addresses to Miss Nannie, yo' niece.' Sam was +a-standing close as he could git to de door, an' he heard ev'y word. +Now he ain't never said dat, mind ye, to Marse Henry 'bout Miss Rachel! +An' dat's why I know dat he warn't hit unto death wid her. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, do you know, suh, dat dat woman was dat owdacious she wouldn't +let 'em see each other after dat 'cept on de front po'ch. Wouldn't let +'em come in de house; make 'em do all dere co'rtin' on de steps an' out +at de paster gate. De doctor would rare an' pitch an' git white in de +face at de scandlous way dat Miss Barnes was bein' treated, until Miss +Nannie put bofe her leetle han's on his'n, soothin' like, an' den he'd +grab 'em an' kiss 'em like he'd eat 'em up. Sam cotched him at it, an' +done tole me; an' den dey'd sa'nter off down de po'ch, sayin' it was +too hot or too cool, or dat dey was lookin' for birds' nests in de +po'ch vines, till dey'd git to de far end, where de mist'ess nor Sam +nor nobody else couldn't hear what dey was a-sayin' an' a-whisperin', +an' dere dey'd sit fer hours. +</P> + +<P> +"But I tell ye de doctor had a hard time a-gittin' her even when Marse +Henry gin his consent. An' he never would 'a' got her if Miss Rachel, +jes' for spite, I spec', hadn't 'a' took up wid Colonel Todhunter's son +dat was a-co'rtin' on her too, an' run off an' married him. Den Miss +Nannie knowed she was free to follow her own heart. +</P> + +<P> +"I tell you it'd 'a' made ye cry yo' eyes out, suh, to see dat chile +try an' fix herse'f up to meet him de days an' nights she knowed he was +comin', an' she wid jes' one white frock to her name. An' we all felt +jes' as bad as her. Dinah would wash it an' I'd smooth her hair, an' +ole Sam 'd git her a fresh rose to put in her neck. +</P> + +<P> +"Purty soon de weddin' day was 'pinted, an' me an' Dinah an' ole Sam +'gin to wonder how dat chile was a-gwine to git clo'es to be married +in. Sam heared ole marster ask dat same question at de table, an' he +see him gib de mist'ess de money to buy 'em for her, an' de mist'ess +said dat she reckoned 'Miss Nannie's people would want de privlege o' +dressin' her now dat she was a-gwine to marry dat wo'thless young +doctor, Tom Boling, dat nobody wouldn't hab in de house, but dat if dey +didn't she'd gin her some of Miss Rachel's clo'es, an' if dem warn't +'nough den she'd spen' de money to de best advantage.' Dem was her +ve'y words. Sam heared her say 'em. I knowed dat meant dat de chile +would go naked, for she wouldn't a-worn none o' Miss Rachel's rubbish, +an' not a cent would she git o' de money. So I got dat ole white frock +out, an' Dinah found a white ribbon in a ole trunk in de garret, an' +washed an' ironed it to tie 'round her waist, an' Miss Nannie come an' +look at it, an' when she see it de tears riz up in her eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"'Doan' you cry, chile,' I says. 'He ain't lovin' ye for yo' clo'es, +an' never did. Fust time he see ye yo' was purty nigh barefoot. It's +you he wants, not yo' frocks, honey;' an' den de sun come out in her +face an' her eyes dried up, an' she 'gin to smile an' sing like a robin +after de rain. +</P> + +<P> +"Purty soon long come Chris'mas time, an' me an' ole Sam an' Dinah was +a-watchin' out to see what Marse Tom Boling was gwine to gin his bride, +fur she was purty nigh dat, as dey was to be married de week after +Chris'mas. Well, suh, de mawnin' 'fore Chris'mas come, an' den de +arternoon come, an' den de night come, an' mos' ev'y hour somebody sent +somethin' for Miss Rachel, an' yet not one scrap of nuffin big as a +chink-a-pin come for Miss Nannie. Dinah an' me was dat onresless dat +we couldn't sleep. Miss Nannie didn't say nuffin when she went to bed, +but I see a little shadder creep over her face an' I knowed right away +what hurted her. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, de nex' mawnin'—Chris'mas mawnin' dat was—ole Sam come +a-bustin' in de kitchen do', a-hollerin' loud as he could holler"—Aunt +Chloe was now rocking herself back and forth, clapping her hands as she +talked—"dat dere was a trunk on de front po'ch for Miss Nannie dat was +dat heavy it tuk fo' niggers to lif it. I run, an' Dinah run, an' when +we got to de trunk mos' all de niggers was thick 'round it as flies, +an' Miss Nannie was standin' over it readin' a card wid her name on it +an' a 'scription sayin' dat it was 'a Chris'mas gif, wid de compliments +of a friend.' But who dat friend was, whether it was Marse Henry, who +sent it dat way so dat woman wouldn't tear his hair out; or whether +Mis' Morgan sent it, dat hadn't mo'n 'nough money to live on; or +whether some of her own kin in Indiany, dat was dirt po', stole de +money an' sent it; or whether de young Dr. Tom Doling, who had mo' +money dan all de banks in Lexin'ton, done did it, don't nobody know +till dis day, 'cept me an' ole Sam, an' we ain't tellin'. +</P> + +<P> +"But, my soul alive, de insides of dat trunk took de bref clean out o' +de mist'ess an' Miss Rachel. Sam opened it, an' I tuk out de things. +Honey! dere was a weddin' dress all white satin dat would stand +alone,—jes' de ve'y mate of de one you got in dat picter 'fore +ye,—an' a change'ble silk, dat heavy! an' a plaid one, an' eve'ything +a young lady could git on her back from her skin out, an' a +thousand-dollar watch an' chain. I wore dat watch myse'f; Miss Nannie +was standin' by me, a-clappin' her han's an' laughin', an' when dat +watch an' chain came out she jes' th'owed de chain over my neck an' +stuck de leetle watch in my bosom, an' says, 'Dere, you dear ole mammy, +go look at you'se'f in de glass an' see how fine you is.' +</P> + +<P> +"De nex' week come de weddin'. I'll never forgit dat weddin' to my +dyin' day. Marse Tom Boling driv in wid a coach an' four an' two +outriders, an' de horses wore white ribbons on dere ears; an' de +coachman had flowers in his coat mos' big as his head, an' dey whirled +up in front of de po'ch, an' out he stepped in his blue coat an' brass +buttons an' a yaller wais'coat,—yaller as a gourd,—an' his bell-crown +hat in his han'. She was a-waitin' for him wid dat white satin dress +on, an' de chain 'round her neck, an' her lil footses tied up wid silk +ribbons de ve'y match o' dem you got pictered, an' her face shinin' +like a angel. An' all de niggers was a-standin' 'roun' de po'ch, dere +eyes out'n dere heads, an' Marse Henry was dere in his new clo'es +lookin' so grand, an' Sam in his white gloves, an' me in a new head +han'chief. +</P> + +<P> +"Eve'body was happy 'cept one. Dat one was de mist'ess, standin' in de +door. She wouldn't come out to de coach where de horses was a-champin' +de bits an' de froth a-droppin' on de groun', an' she wouldn't speak to +Marse Tom. She kep' back in de do'way. +</P> + +<P> +"Miss Rachel was dat mean she wouldn't come downstairs. +</P> + +<P> +"Miss Nannie gib Marse Tom Boling her han' an' look up in his face like +a queen, an' den she kissed Marse Henry, an' whispered somethin' in his +ear dat nobody didn't hear, only de tears gin to jump out an' roll down +his cheeks, an' den she looked de mist'ess full in de face, an' 'thout +a word dropped her a low curtsey. +</P> + +<P> +"I come de las'. She looked at me for a minute wid her eyes +a-swimmin', an' den she th'owed her arms roun' my neck an' hugged an' +kissed me, an' den I see an arm slip 'roun' her wais' an' lif her in de +coach. Den de horses 'gin a plunge an' dey was off. +</P> + +<P> +"An' arter dat dey had five years—de happiest years dem two ever seen. +I know, 'cause Marse Henry gin me to her, an' I lived wid 'em day in +an' day out till dat baby come, an' den—" +</P> + +<P> +Aunt Chloe stopped and reached out her hand as if to steady herself. +The tears were streaming down her cheeks. +</P> + +<P> +Then she advanced a step, fixed her eyes on the portrait, and in a +voice broken with emotion, said:— +</P> + +<P> +"Honey, chile,—honey, chile,—is you tired a-waitin' for yo' ole +mammy? Keep a-watchin', honey—keep a-watchin'—It won't be long now +'fore I come. Keep a-watchin'." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap15"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +BY THE WATERS OF PARADISE +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +By F. MARION CRAWFORD +</H4> + +<P CLASS="intro"> +Copyright 1894 by G. P. Putnam's Sons. +</P> + +<BR> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +I +</H4> + +<P> +I remember my childhood very distinctly. I do not think that the fact +argues a good memory, for I have never been clever at learning words by +heart, in prose or rhyme; so that I believe my remembrance of events +depends much more upon the events themselves than upon my possessing +any special facility for recalling them. Perhaps I am too imaginative, +and the earliest impressions I received were of a kind to stimulate the +imagination abnormally. A long series of little misfortunes, so +connected with each other as to suggest a sort of weird fatality, so +worked upon my melancholy temperament when I was a boy that, before I +was of age, I sincerely believed myself to be under a curse, and not +only myself, but my whole family and every individual who bore my name. +</P> + +<P> +I was born in the old place where my father, and his father, and all +his predecessors had been born, beyond the memory of man. It is a very +old house, and the greater part of it was originally a castle, strongly +fortified, and surrounded by a steep moat supplied with abundant water +from the hills by a hidden aqueduct. Many of the fortifications have +been destroyed, and the moat has been filled up. The water from the +aqueduct supplies great fountains, and runs down into huge oblong +basins in the terraced gardens, one below the other, each surrounded by +a broad pavement of marble between the water and the flower-beds. The +waste surplus finally escapes through an artificial grotto, some thirty +yards long, into a stream, flowing down through the park to the meadows +beyond, and thence to the distant river. The buildings were extended a +little and greatly altered more than two hundred years ago, in the time +of Charles II., but since then little has been done to improve them, +though they have been kept in fairly good repair, according to our +fortunes. +</P> + +<P> +In the gardens there are terraces and huge hedges of box and evergreen, +some of which used to be clipped into shapes of animals, in the Italian +style. I can remember when I was a lad how I used to try to make out +what the trees were cut to represent, and how I used to appeal for +explanations to Judith, my Welsh nurse. She dealt in a strange +mythology of her own, and peopled the gardens with griffins, dragons, +good genii and bad, and filled my mind with them at the same time. My +nursery window afforded a view of the great fountains at the head of +the upper basin, and on moonlight nights the Welshwoman would hold me +up to the glass and bid me look at the mist and spray rising into +mysterious shapes, moving mystically in the white light like living +things. +</P> + +<P> +"It's the Woman of the Water," she used to say; and sometimes she would +threaten that if I did not go to sleep the Woman of the Water would +steal up to the high window and carry me away in her wet arms. +</P> + +<A NAME="img-256"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG CLASS="imgcenter" SRC="images/img-256.jpg" ALT="F. Hopkinson Smith" BORDER="0" WIDTH="400" HEIGHT="548"> +</CENTER> + +<P> +The place was gloomy. The broad basins of water and the tall evergreen +hedges gave it a funereal look, and the damp-stained marble causeways +by the pools might have been made of tombstones. The gray and +weather-beaten walls and towers without, the dark and massively +furnished rooms within, the deep, mysterious recesses and the heavy +curtains, all affected my spirits. I was silent and sad from my +childhood. There was a great clock tower above, from which the hours +rang dismally during the day, and tolled like a knell in the dead of +night. There was no light nor life in the house, for my mother was a +helpless invalid, and my father had grown melancholy in his long task +of caring for her. He was a thin, dark man, with sad eyes; kind, I +think, but silent and unhappy. Next to my mother, I believe he loved +me better than anything on earth, for he took immense pains and trouble +in teaching me, and what he taught me I have never forgotten. Perhaps +it was his only amusement, and that may be the reason why I had no +nursery governess or teacher of any kind while he lived. +</P> + +<P> +I used to be taken to see my mother every day, and sometimes twice a +day, for an hour at a time. Then I sat upon a little stool near her +feet, and she would ask me what I had been doing, and what I wanted to +do. I dare say she saw already the seeds of a profound melancholy in +my nature, for she looked at me always with a sad smile, and kissed me +with a sigh when I was taken away. +</P> + +<P> +One night, when I was just six years old, I lay awake in the nursery. +The door was not quite shut, and the Welsh nurse was sitting sewing in +the next room. Suddenly I heard her groan, and say in a strange voice, +"One—two—one—two!" I was frightened, and I jumped up and ran to the +door, barefooted as I was. +</P> + +<P> +"What is it, Judith?" I cried, clinging to her skirts. I can remember +the look in her strange dark eyes as she answered: +</P> + +<P> +"One—two leaden coffins, fallen from the ceiling!" she crooned, +working herself in her chair. "One—two—a light coffin and a heavy +coffin, falling to the floor!" +</P> + +<P> +Then she seemed to notice me, and she took me back to bed and sang me +to sleep with a queer old Welsh song. +</P> + +<P> +I do not know how it was, but the impression got hold of me that she +had meant that my father and mother were going to die very soon. They +died in the very room where she had been sitting that night. It was a +great room, my day nursery, full of sun when there was any; and when +the days were dark it was the most cheerful place in the house. My +mother grew rapidly worse, and I was transferred to another part of the +building to make place for her. They thought my nursery was gayer for +her, I suppose; but she could not live. She was beautiful when she was +dead, and I cried bitterly. +</P> + +<P> +"The light one, the light one—the heavy one to come," crooned the +Welshwoman. And she was right. My father took the room after my +mother was gone, and day by day he grew thinner and paler and sadder. +</P> + +<P> +"The heavy one, the heavy one—all of lead," moaned my nurse, one night +in December, standing still, just as she was going to take away the +light after putting me to bed. Then she took me up again and wrapped +me in a little gown, and led me away to my father's room. She knocked, +but no one answered. She opened the door, and we found him in his easy +chair before the fire, very white, quite dead. +</P> + +<P> +So I was alone with the Welshwoman till strange people came, and +relations whom I had never seen; and then I heard them saying that I +must be taken away to some more cheerful place. They were kind people, +and I will not believe that they were kind only because I was to be +very rich when I grew to be a man. The world never seemed to be a very +bad place to me, nor all the people to be miserable sinners, even when +I was most melancholy. I do not remember that any one ever did me any +great injustice, nor that I was ever oppressed or ill-treated in any +way, even by the boys at school. I was sad, I suppose, because my +childhood was so gloomy, and, later, because I was unlucky in +everything I undertook, till I finally believed I was pursued by fate, +and I used to dream that the old Welsh nurse and the Woman of the Water +between them had vowed to pursue me to my end. But my natural +disposition should have been cheerful, as I have often thought. +</P> + +<P> +Among the lads of my age I was never last, or even among the last, in +anything; but I was never first. If I trained for a race, I was sure +to sprain my ankle on the day when I was to run. If I pulled an oar +with others, my oar was sure to break. If I competed for a prize, some +unforeseen accident prevented my winning it at the last moment. +Nothing to which I put my hand succeeded, and I got the reputation of +being unlucky, until my companions felt it was always safe to bet +against me, no matter what the appearances might be. I became +discouraged and listless in everything. I gave up the idea of +competing for any distinction at the University, comforting myself with +the thought that I could not fail in the examination for the ordinary +degree. The day before the examination began I fell ill; and when at +last I recovered, after a narrow escape from death, I turned my back +upon Oxford, and went down alone to visit the old place where I had +been born, feeble in health and profoundly disgusted and discouraged. +I was twenty-one years of age, master of myself and of my fortune; but +so deeply had the long chain of small unlucky circumstances affected me +that I thought seriously of shutting myself up from the world to live +the life of a hermit and to die as soon as possible. Death seemed the +only cheerful possibility in my existence, and my thoughts soon dwelt +upon it altogether. +</P> + +<P> +I had never shown any wish to return to my own home since I had been +taken away as a little boy, and no one had ever pressed me to do so. +The place had been kept in order after a fashion, and did not seem to +have suffered during the fifteen years or more of my absence. Nothing +earthly could affect those old gray walls that had fought the elements +for so many centuries. The garden was more wild than I remembered it; +the marble causeways about the pools looked more yellow and damp than +of old, and the whole place at first looked smaller. It was not until +I had wandered about the house and grounds for many hours that I +realized the huge size of the home where, I was to live in solitude. +Then I began to delight in it, and my resolution to live alone grew +stronger. +</P> + +<P> +The people had turned out to welcome me, of course, and I tried to +recognize the changed faces of the old gardener and the old +housekeeper, and to call them by name. My old nurse I knew at once. +She had grown very gray since she heard the coffins fall in the nursery +fifteen years before, but her strange eyes were the same, and the look +in them woke all my old memories. She went over the house with me. +</P> + +<P> +"And how is the Woman of the Water?" I asked, trying to laugh a little. +"Does she still play in the moonlight?" +</P> + +<P> +"She is hungry," answered the Welshwoman, in a low voice. +</P> + +<P> +"Hungry? Then we will feed her." I laughed. But old Judith turned +very pale, and looked at me strangely. +</P> + +<P> +"Feed her? Ay—you will feed her well," she muttered, glancing behind +her at the ancient housekeeper, who tottered after us with feeble steps +through the halls and passages. +</P> + +<P> +I did not think much of her words. She had always talked oddly, as +Welshwomen will, and though I was very melancholy I am sure I was not +superstitious, and I was certainly not timid. Only, as in a far-off +dream, I seemed to see her standing with the light in her hand and +muttering, "The heavy one—all of lead," and then leading a little boy +through the long corridors to see his father lying dead in a great easy +chair before a smouldering fire. So we went over the house, and I +chose the rooms where I would live; and the servants I had brought with +me ordered and arranged everything, and I had no more trouble. I did +not care what they did provided I was left in peace and was not +expected to give directions; for I was more listless than ever, owing +to the effects of my illness at college. +</P> + +<P> +I dined in solitary state, and the melancholy grandeur of the vast old +dining-room pleased me. Then I went to the room I had selected for my +study, and sat down in a deep chair, under a bright light, to think, or +to let my thoughts meander through labyrinths of their own choosing, +utterly indifferent to the course they might take. +</P> + +<P> +The tall windows of the room opened to the level of the ground upon the +terrace at the head of the garden. It was in the end of July, and +everything was open, for the weather was warm. As I sat alone I heard +the unceasing splash of the great fountains, and I fell to thinking of +the Woman of the Water. I rose and went out into the still night, and +sat down upon a seat on the terrace, between two gigantic Italian +flower-pots. The air was deliciously soft and sweet with the smell of +the flowers, and the garden was more congenial to me than the house. +Sad people always like running water and the sound of it at night, +though I cannot tell why. I sat and listened in the gloom, for it was +dark below, and the pale moon had not yet climbed over the hills in +front of me, though all the air above was light with her rising beams. +Slowly the white halo in the eastern sky ascended in an arch above the +wooded crests, making the outlines of the mountains more intensely +black by contrast, as though the head of some great white saint were +rising from behind a screen in a vast cathedral, throwing misty glories +from below. I longed to see the moon herself, and I tried to reckon +the seconds before she must appear. Then she sprang up quickly, and in +a moment more hung round and perfect in the sky. I gazed at her, and +then at the floating spray of the tall fountains, and down at the +pools, where the waterlilies were rocking softly in their sleep on the +velvet surface of the moonlit water. Just then a great swan floated +out silently into the midst of the basin, and wreathed his long neck, +catching the water in his broad bill, and scattering showers of +diamonds around him. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly, as I gazed, something came between me and the light. I +looked up instantly. Between me and the round disk of the moon rose a +luminous face of a woman, with great strange eyes, and a woman's mouth, +full and soft, but not smiling, hooded in black, staring at me as I sat +still upon my bench. She was close to me—so close that I could have +touched her with my hand. But I was transfixed and helpless. She +stood still for a moment, but her expression did not change. Then she +passed swiftly away, and my hair stood up on my head, while the cold +breeze from her white dress was wafted to my temples as she moved. The +moonlight, shining through the tossing spray of the fountain, made +traceries of shadow on the gleaming folds of her garments. In an +instant she was gone and I was alone. +</P> + +<P> +I was strangely shaken by the vision, and some time passed before I +could rise to my feet, for I was still weak from my illness, and the +sight I had seen would have startled any one. I did not reason with +myself, for I was certain that I had looked on the unearthly, and no +argument could have destroyed that belief. At last I got up and stood +unsteadily, gazing in the direction in which I thought the face had +gone; but there was nothing to be seen—nothing but the broad paths, +the tall, dark evergreen hedges, the tossing water of the fountains and +the smooth pool below. I fell back upon the seat and recalled the face +I had seen. Strange to say, now that the first impression had passed, +there was nothing startling in the recollection; on the contrary, I +felt that I was fascinated by the face, and would give anything to see +it again. I could retrace the beautiful straight features, the long +dark eyes, and the wonderful mouth most exactly in my mind, and when I +had reconstructed every detail from memory I knew that the whole was +beautiful, and that I should love a woman with such a face. +</P> + +<P> +"I wonder whether she is the Woman of the Water!" I said to myself. +Then rising once more, I wandered down the garden, descending one short +flight of steps after another from terrace to terrace by the edge of +the marble basins, through the shadow and through the moonlight; and I +crossed the water by the rustic bridge above the artificial grotto, and +climbed slowly up again to the highest terrace by the other side. The +air seemed sweeter, and I was very calm, so that I think I smiled to +myself as I walked, as though a new happiness had come to me. The +woman's face seemed always before me, and the thought of it gave me an +unwonted thrill of pleasure, unlike anything I had ever felt before. +</P> + +<P> +I turned as I reached the house, and looked back upon the scene. It +had certainly changed in the short hour since I had come out, and my +mood had changed with it. Just like my luck, I thought, to fall in +love with a ghost! But in old times I would have sighed; and gone to +bed more sad than ever, at such a melancholy conclusion. To-night I +felt happy, almost for the first time in my life. The gloomy old study +seemed cheerful when I went in. The old pictures on the walls smiled +at me, and I sat down in my deep chair with a new and delightful +sensation that I was not alone. The idea of having seen a ghost, and +of feeling much the better for it, was so absurd that I laughed softly, +as I took up one of the books I had brought with me and began to read. +</P> + +<P> +That impression did not wear off. I slept peacefully, and in the +morning I threw open my windows to the summer air and looked down at +the garden, at the stretches of green and at the colored flower-beds, +at the circling swallows and at the bright water. +</P> + +<P> +"A man might make a paradise of this place," I exclaimed. "A man and a +woman together!" +</P> + +<P> +From that day the old Castle no longer seemed gloomy, and I think I +ceased to be sad; for some time, too, I began to take an interest in +the place, and to try and make it more alive. I avoided my old Welsh +nurse, lest she should damp my humor with some dismal prophecy, and +recall my old self by bringing back memories of my dismal childhood. +But what I thought of most was the ghostly figure I had seen in the +garden that first night after my arrival. I went out every evening and +wandered through the walks and paths; but, try as I might, I did not +see my vision again. At last, after many days, the memory grew more +faint, and my old moody nature gradually overcame the temporary sense +of lightness I had experienced. The summer turned to autumn, and I +grew restless. It began to rain. The dampness pervaded the gardens, +and the outer halls smelled musty, like tombs; the gray sky oppressed +me intolerably. I left the place as it was and went abroad, determined +to try anything which might possibly make a second break in the +monotonous melancholy from which I suffered. +</P> + +<BR> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +II +</H4> + +<P> +Most people would be struck by the utter insignificance of the small +events which, after the death of my parents, influenced my life and +made me unhappy. The gruesome forebodings of a Welsh nurse, which +chanced to be realized by an odd coincidence of events, should not seem +enough to change the nature of a child and to direct the bent of his +character in after years. The little disappointments of schoolboy +life, and the somewhat less childish ones of an uneventful and +undistinguished academic career, should not have sufficed to turn me +out at one-and-twenty-years of age a melancholic, listless idler. Some +weakness of my own character may have contributed to the result, but in +a greater degree it was due to my having a reputation for bad luck. +However, I will not try to analyze the causes of my state, for I should +satisfy nobody, least of all myself. Still less will I attempt to +explain why I felt a temporary revival of my spirits after my adventure +in the garden. It is certain that I was in love with the face I had +seen, and that I longed to see it again; that I gave up all hope of a +second visitation, grew more sad than ever, packed up my traps, and +finally went abroad. But in my dreams I went back to my home, and it +always appeared to me sunny and bright, as it had looked on that +summer's morning after I had seen the woman by the fountain. +</P> + +<P> +I went to Paris. I went farther, and wandered about Germany. I tried +to amuse myself, and I failed miserably. With the aimless whims of an +idle and useless man come all sorts of suggestions for good +resolutions. One day I made up my mind that I would go and bury myself +in a German university for a time, and live simply like a poor student. +I started with the intention of going to Leipzig, determined to stay +there until some event should direct my life or change my humor, or +make an end of me altogether. The express train stopped at some +station of which I did not know the name. It was dusk on a winter's +afternoon, and I peered through the thick glass from my seat. Suddenly +another train came gliding in from the opposite direction, and stopped +alongside of ours. I looked at the carriage which chanced to be +abreast of mine, and idly read the black letters painted on a white +board swinging from the brass handrail: Berlin—Cologne—Paris. Then I +looked up at the window above. I started violently, and the cold +perspiration broke out upon my forehead. In the dim light, not six +feet from where I sat, I saw the face of a woman, the face I loved, the +straight, fine features, the strange eyes, the wonderful mouth, the +pale skin. Her head-dress was a dark veil which seemed to be tied +about her head and passed over the shoulders under her chin. As I +threw down the window and knelt on the cushioned seat, leaning far out +to get a better view, a long whistle screamed through the station, +followed by a quick series of dull, clanking sounds; then there was a +slight jerk, and my train moved on. Luckily the window was narrow, +being the one over the seat, beside the door, or I believe I would have +jumped out of it then and there. In an instant the speed increased, +and I was being carried swiftly away in the opposite direction from the +thing I loved. +</P> + +<P> +For a quarter of an hour I lay back in my place, stunned by the +suddenness of the apparition. At last one of the two other passengers, +a large and gorgeous captain of the White Konigsberg Cuirassiers, +civilly but firmly suggested that I might shut my window, as the +evening was cold. I did so, with an apology, and relapsed into +silence. The train ran swiftly on for a long time, and it was already +beginning to slacken speed before entering another station, when I +roused myself and made a sudden resolution. As the carriage stopped +before the brilliantly lighted platform, I seized my belongings, +saluted my fellow-passengers, and got out, determined to take the first +express back to Paris. +</P> + +<P> +This time the circumstances of the vision had been so natural that it +did not strike me that there was anything unreal about the face, or +about the woman to whom it belonged. I did not try to explain to +myself how the face, and the woman, could be travelling by a fast train +from Berlin to Paris on a winter's afternoon, when both were in my mind +indelibly associated with the moonlight and the fountains in my own +English home. I certainly would not have admitted that I had been +mistaken in the dusk, attributing to what I had seen a resemblance to +my former vision which did not really exist. There was not the +slightest doubt in my mind, and I was positively sure that I had again +seen the face I loved. I did not hesitate, and in a few hours I was on +my way back to Paris. I could not help reflecting on my ill luck. +Wandering as I had been for many months, it might as easily have +chanced that I should be travelling in the same train with that woman, +instead of going the other way. But my luck was destined to turn for a +time. +</P> + +<P> +I searched Paris for several days. I dined at the principal hotels; I +went to the theatres; I rode in the Bois de Boulogne in the morning, +and picked up an acquaintance, whom I forced to drive with me in the +afternoon. I went to mass at the Madeleine, and I attended the +services at the English Church. I hung about the Louvre and Notre +Dame. I went to Versailles. I spent hours in parading the Rue de +Rivoli, in the neighborhood of Meurice's corner, where foreigners pass +and repass from morning till night. At last I received an invitation +to a reception at the English Embassy. I went, and I found what I had +sought so long. +</P> + +<P> +There she was, sitting by an old lady in gray satin and diamonds, who +had a wrinkled but kindly face and keen gray eyes that seemed to take +in everything they saw, with very little inclination to give much in +return. But I did not notice the chaperon. I saw only the face that +had haunted me for months, and in the excitement of the moment I walked +quickly towards the pair, forgetting such a trifle as the necessity for +an introduction. +</P> + +<P> +She was far more beautiful than I had thought, but I never doubted that +it was she herself and no other. Vision or no vision before, this was +the reality, and I knew it. Twice her hair had been covered, now at +last I saw it, and the added beauty of its magnificence glorified the +whole woman. It was rich hair, fine and abundant, golden, with deep +ruddy tints in it like red bronze spun fine. There was no ornament in +it, not a rose, not a thread of gold, and I felt that it needed nothing +to enhance its splendor; nothing but her pale face, her dark strange +eyes, and her heavy eyebrows. I could see that she was slender too, +but strong withal, as she sat there quietly gazing at the moving scene +in the midst of the brilliant lights and the hum of perpetual +conversation. +</P> + +<P> +I recollected the detail of introduction in time, and turned aside to +look for my host. I found him at last. I begged him to present me to +the two ladies, pointing them out to him at the same time. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes—uh—by all means—uh," replied his Excellency with a pleasant +smile. He evidently had no idea of my name, which was not to be +wondered at. +</P> + +<P> +"I am Lord Cairngorm," I observed. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh—by all means," answered the Ambassador with the same hospitable +smile. "Yes—uh—the fact is, I must try and find out who they are; +such lots of people, you know." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, if you will present me, I will try and find out for you," said I, +laughing. +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, yes—so kind of you—come along," said my host. We threaded the +crowd, and in a few minutes we stood before the two ladies. +</P> + +<P> +"'Lowmintrduce L'd Cairngorm," he said; then, adding quickly to me, +"Come and dine to-morrow, won't you?" he glided away with his pleasant +smile and disappeared in the crowd. +</P> + +<P> +I sat down beside the beautiful girl, conscious that the eyes of the +duenna were upon me. +</P> + +<P> +"I think we have been very near meeting before," I remarked, by way of +opening the conversation. +</P> + +<P> +My companion turned her eyes full upon me with an air of inquiry. She +evidently did not recall my face, if she had ever seen me. +</P> + +<P> +"Really—I cannot remember," she observed, in a low and musical voice. +"When?" +</P> + +<P> +"In the first place, you came down from Berlin by the express ten days +ago. I was going the other way, and our carriages stopped opposite +each other. I saw you at the window." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes—we came that way, but I do not remember—" She hesitated. +</P> + +<P> +"Secondly," I continued, "I was sitting alone in my garden last +summer—near the end of July—do you remember? You must have wandered +in there through the park; you came up to the house and looked at me—" +</P> + +<P> +"Was that you?" she asked, in evident surprise. Then she broke into a +laugh. "I told everybody I had seen a ghost; there had never been any +Cairngorms in the place since the memory of man. We left the next day, +and never heard that you had come there; indeed, I did not know the +castle belonged to you." +</P> + +<P> +"Where were you staying?" I asked +</P> + +<P> +"Where? Why, with my aunt, where I always stay. She is your neighbor, +since it <I>is</I> you." +</P> + +<P> +"I—beg your pardon—but then—is your aunt Lady Bluebell? I did not +quite catch—" +</P> + +<P> +"Don't be afraid. She is amazingly deaf. Yes. She is the relict of +my beloved uncle, the sixteenth or seventeenth Baron Bluebell—I forget +exactly how many of them there have been. And I—do you know who I +am?" She laughed, well knowing that I did not. +</P> + +<P> +"No," I answered frankly. "I have not the least idea. I asked to be +introduced because I recognized you. Perhaps—perhaps you are a Miss +Bluebell?" +</P> + +<P> +"Considering that you are a neighbor, I will tell you who I am," she +answered. "No; I am of the tribe of Bluebells, but my name is Lammas, +and I have been given to understand that I was christened Margaret. +Being a floral family, they call me Daisy. A dreadful American man +once told me that my aunt was a Bluebell and that I was a +Harebell—with two l's and an e—because my hair is so thick. I warn +you, so that you may avoid making such a bad pun." +</P> + +<P> +"Do I look like a man who makes puns?" I asked, being very conscious of +my melancholy face and sad looks. +</P> + +<P> +Miss Lammas eyed me critically. +</P> + +<P> +"No; you have a mournful temperament. I think I can trust you," she +answered. "Do you think you could communicate to my aunt the fact that +you are a Cairngorm and a neighbor? I am sure she would like to know." +</P> + +<P> +I leaned towards the old lady, inflating my lungs for a yell. But Miss +Lammas stopped me. +</P> + +<P> +"That is not of the slightest use," she remarked. "You can write it on +a bit of paper. She is utterly deaf." +</P> + +<P> +"I have a pencil," I answered; "but I have no paper. Would my cuff do, +do you think?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, yes!" replied Miss Lammas, with alacrity; "men often do that." +</P> + +<P> +I wrote on my cuff: "Miss Lammas wishes me to explain that I am your +neighbor, Cairngorm." Then I held out my arm before the old lady's +nose. She seemed perfectly accustomed to the proceeding, put up her +glasses, read the words, smiled, nodded, and addressed me in the +unearthly voice peculiar to people who hear nothing. +</P> + +<P> +"I knew your grandfather very well," she said. Then she smiled and +nodded to me again, and to her niece, and relapsed into silence. +</P> + +<P> +"It is all right," remarked Miss Lammas. "Aunt Bluebell knows she is +deaf, and does not say much, like the parrot. You see, she knew your +grandfather. How odd that we should be neighbors! Why have we never +met before?" +</P> + +<P> +"If you had told me you knew my grandfather when you appeared in the +garden, I should not have been in the least surprised," I answered +rather irrelevantly. "I really thought you were the ghost of the old +fountain. How in the world did you come there at that hour?" +</P> + +<P> +"We were a large party and we went out for a walk. Then we thought we +should like to see what your park was like in the moonlight, and so we +trespassed. I got separated from the rest, and came upon you by +accident, just as I was admiring the extremely ghostly look of your +house, and wondering whether anybody would ever come and live there +again. It looks like the castle of Macbeth, or a scene from the opera. +Do you know anybody here?" +</P> + +<P> +"Hardly a soul! Do you?" +</P> + +<P> +"No. Aunt Bluebell said it was our duty to come. It is easy for her +to go out; she does not bear the burden of the conversation." +</P> + +<P> +"I am sorry you find it a burden," said I. "Shall I go away?" +</P> + +<P> +Miss Lammas looked at me with a sudden gravity in her beautiful eyes, +and there was a sort of hesitation about the lines of her full, soft +mouth. +</P> + +<P> +"No," she said at last, quite simply, "don't go away. We may like each +other, if you stay a little longer—and we ought to, because we are +neighbors in the country." +</P> + +<P> +I suppose I ought to have thought Miss Lammas a very odd girl. There +is, indeed, a sort of freemasonry between people who discover that they +live near each other and that they ought to have known each other +before. But there was a sort of unexpected frankness and simplicity in +the girl's amusing manner which would have struck any one else as being +singular, to say the least of it. To me, however, it all seemed +natural enough. I had dreamed of her face too long not to be utterly +happy when I met her at last and could talk to her as much as I +pleased. To me, the man of ill luck in everything, the whole meeting +seemed too good to be true. I felt again that strange sensation of +lightness which I had experienced after I had seen her face in the +garden. The great rooms seemed brighter, life seemed worth living; my +sluggish, melancholy blood ran faster, and filled me with a new sense +of strength. I said to myself that without this woman I was but an +imperfect being, but that with her I could accomplish everything to +which I should set my hand. Like the great Doctor, when he thought he +had cheated Mephistopheles at last, I could have cried aloud to the +fleeting moment, <I>Verweile dock, du bist so schön</I>! +</P> + +<P> +"Are you always gay?" I asked, suddenly. "How happy you must be!" +</P> + +<P> +"The days would sometimes seem very long if I were gloomy," she +answered, thoughtfully. "Yes, I think I find life very pleasant, and I +tell it so." +</P> + +<P> +"How can you 'tell life' anything?" I inquired. "If I could catch my +life and talk to it, I would abuse it prodigiously, I assure you." +</P> + +<P> +"I dare say. You have a melancholy temper. You ought to live +out-of-doors, dig potatoes; make hay, shoot, hunt, tumble into ditches, +and come home muddy and hungry for dinner. It would be much better for +you than moping in your rook tower and hating everything." +</P> + +<P> +"It is rather lonely down there," I murmured, apologetically, feeling +that Miss Lammas was quite right. +</P> + +<P> +"Then marry, and quarrel with your wife," she laughed. "Anything is +better than being alone." +</P> + +<P> +"I am a very peaceable person. I never quarrel with anybody. You can +try it. You will find it quite impossible." +</P> + +<P> +"Will you let me try?" she asked, still smiling. +</P> + +<P> +"By all means—especially if it is to be only a preliminary canter," I +answered, rashly. +</P> + +<P> +"What do you mean?" she inquired, turning quickly upon me. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh—nothing. You might try my paces with a view to quarrelling in the +future. I cannot imagine how you are going to do it. You will have to +resort to immediate and direct abuse." +</P> + +<P> +"No. I will only say that if you do not like your life, it is your own +fault. How can a man of your age talk of being melancholy, or of the +hollowness of existence? Are you consumptive? Are you subject to +hereditary insanity? Are you deaf, like Aunt Bluebell? Are you poor, +like—lots of people? Have you been crossed in love? Have you lost +the world for a woman, or any particular woman for the sake of the +world? Are you feeble-minded, a cripple, an outcast? Are +you—repulsively ugly?" She laughed again. "Is there any reason in +the world why you should not enjoy all you have got in life?" +</P> + +<P> +"No. There is no reason whatever, except that I am dreadfully unlucky, +especially in small things." +</P> + +<P> +"Then try big things, just for a change," suggested Miss Lammas. "Try +and get married, for instance, and see how it turns out." +</P> + +<P> +"If it turned out badly it would be rather serious." +</P> + +<P> +"Not half so serious as it is to abuse everything unreasonably. If +abuse is your particular talent, abuse something that ought to be +abused. Abuse the Conservatives—or the Liberals—it does not matter +which, since they are always abusing each other. Make yourself felt by +other people. You will like it, if they don't. It will make a man of +you. Fill your mouth with pebbles, and howl at the sea, if you cannot +do anything else. It did Demosthenes no end of good, you know. You +will have the satisfaction of imitating a great man." +</P> + +<P> +"Really, Miss Lammas, I think the list of innocent exercises you +propose—" +</P> + +<P> +"Very well—if you don't care for that sort of thing, care for some +other sort of thing. Care for something, or hate something. Don't be +idle. Life is short, and though art may be long, plenty of noise +answers nearly as well." +</P> + +<P> +"I do care for something—I mean, somebody," I said. +</P> + +<P> +"A woman? Then marry her. Don't hesitate." +</P> + +<P> +"I do not know whether she would marry me," I replied. "I have never +asked her." +</P> + +<P> +"Then ask her at once," answered Miss Lammas. "I shall die happy if I +feel I have persuaded a melancholy fellow-creature to rouse himself to +action. Ask her, by all means, and see what she says. If she does not +accept you at once, she may take you the next time. Meanwhile, you +will have entered for the race. If you lose, there are the 'All-aged +Trial Stakes,' and the 'Consolation Race.'" +</P> + +<P> +"And plenty of selling races into the bargain. Shall I take you at +your word, Miss Lammas?" +</P> + +<P> +"I hope you will," she answered. +</P> + +<P> +"Since you yourself advise me, I will. Miss Lammas, will you do me the +honor to marry me?" +</P> + +<P> +For the first time in my life the blood rushed to my head and my sight +swam. I cannot tell why I said it. It would be useless to try to +explain the extraordinary fascination the girl exercised over me, or +the still more extraordinary feeling of intimacy with her which had +grown in me during that half-hour. Lonely, sad, unlucky as I had been +all my life, I was certainly not timid, nor even shy. But to propose +to marry a woman after half an hour's acquaintance was a piece of +madness of which I never believed myself capable, and of which I should +never be capable again, could I be placed in the same situation. It +was as though my whole being had been changed in a moment by magic—by +the white magic of her nature brought into contact with mine. The +blood sank back to my heart, and a moment later I found myself staring +at her with anxious eyes. To my amazement she was as calm as ever, but +her beautiful mouth smiled, and there was a mischievous light in her +dark-brown eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"Fairly caught," she answered. "For an individual who pretends to be +listless and sad you are not lacking in humor. I had really not the +least idea what you were going to say. Wouldn't it be singularly +awkward for you if I had said 'Yes'? I never saw anybody begin to +practise so sharply what was preached to him—with so very little loss +of time!" +</P> + +<P> +"You probably never met a man who had dreamed of you for seven months +before being introduced." +</P> + +<P> +"No, I never did," she answered gaily. "It smacks of the romantic. +Perhaps you are a romantic character, after all. I should think you +were if I believed you. Very well; you have taken my advice, entered +for a Stranger's Race and lost it. Try the All-aged Trial Stakes. You +have another cuff, and a pencil. Propose to Aunt Bluebell; she would +dance with astonishment, and she might recover her hearing." +</P> + +<BR> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +III +</H4> + +<P> +That was how I first asked Margaret Lammas to be my wife, and I will +agree with any one who says I behaved very foolishly. But I have not +repented of it, and I never shall. I have long ago understood that I +was out of my mind that evening, but I think my temporary insanity on +that occasion has had the effect of making me a saner man ever since. +Her manner turned my head, for it was so different from what I had +expected. To hear this lovely creature, who, in my imagination, was a +heroine of romance, if not of tragedy, talking familiarly and laughing +readily was more than my equanimity could bear, and I lost my head as +well as my heart. But when I went back to England in the spring, I +went to make certain arrangements at the Castle—certain changes and +improvements which would be absolutely necessary. I had won the race +for which I had entered myself so rashly, and we were to be married in +June. +</P> + +<P> +Whether the change was due to the orders I had left with the gardener +and the rest of the servants, or to my own state of mind, I cannot +tell. At all events, the old place did not look the same to me when I +opened my window on the morning after my arrival. There were the gray +walls below me and the gray turrets flanking the huge building; there +were the fountains, the marble causeways, the smooth basins, the tall +box hedges, the water-lilies, and the swans, just as of old. But there +was something else there, too—something in the air, in the water, and +in the greenness that I did not recognize—a light over everything by +which everything was transfigured. The clock in the tower struck +seven, and the strokes of the ancient bell sounded like a wedding +chime. The air sang with the thrilling treble of the song-birds, with +the silvery music of the plashing water and the softer harmony of the +leaves stirred by the fresh morning wind. There was a smell of +new-mown hay from the distant meadows, and of blooming roses from the +beds below, wafted up together to my window. I stood in the pure +sunshine and drank the air and all the sounds and the odors that were +in it; and I looked down at my garden and said: "It is Paradise, after +all." I think the men of old were right when they called heaven a +garden, and Eden a garden inhabited by one man and one woman, the +Earthly Paradise. +</P> + +<P> +I turned away, wondering what had become of the gloomy memories I had +always associated with my home. I tried to recall the impression of my +nurse's horrible prophecy before the death of my parents—an impression +which hitherto had been vivid enough. I tried to remember my old self, +my dejection, my listlessness, my bad luck, my petty disappointments. +I endeavored to force myself to think as I used to think, if only to +satisfy myself that I had not lost my individuality. But I succeeded +in none of these efforts. I was a different man, a changed being, +incapable of sorrow, of ill luck, or of sadness. My life had been a +dream, not evil, but infinitely gloomy and hopeless. It was now a +reality, full of hope, gladness, and all manner of good. My home had +been like a tomb; to-day it was Paradise. My heart had been as though +it had not existed; to-day it beat with strength and youth and the +certainty of realized happiness. I revelled in the beauty of the +world, and called loveliness out of the future to enjoy it before time +should bring it to me, as a traveller in the plains looks up to the +mountains, and already tastes the cool air through the dust of the road. +</P> + +<P> +Here, I thought, we will live and live for years. There we will sit by +the fountain towards evening and in the deep moonlight. Down those +paths we will wander together. On those benches we will rest and talk. +Among those eastern hills we will ride through the soft twilight, and +in the old house we will tell tales on winter nights, when the logs +burn high, and the holly berries are red, and the old clock tolls out +the dying year. On these old steps, in these dark passages and stately +rooms, there will one day be the sound of little pattering feet, and +laughing child-voices will ring up to the vaults of the ancient hall. +Those tiny footsteps shall not be slow and sad as mine were, nor shall +the childish words be spoken in an awed whisper. No gloomy Welshwoman +shall people the dusky corners with weird horrors, nor utter horrid +prophecies of death and ghastly things. All shall be young, and fresh, +and joyful, and happy, and we will turn the old luck again, and forget +that there was ever any sadness. +</P> + +<P> +So I thought, as I looked out of my window that morning and for many +mornings after that, and every day it all seemed more real than ever +before, and much nearer. But the old nurse looked at me askance, and +muttered odd sayings about the Woman of the Water. I cared little what +she said, for I was far too happy. +</P> + +<P> +At last the time came near for the wedding. Lady Bluebell and all the +tribe of Bluebells, as Margaret called them, were at Bluebell Grange, +for we had determined to be married in the country, and to come +straight to the Castle afterwards. We cared little for travelling, and +not at all for a crowded ceremony at St George's in Hanover Square, +with all the tiresome formalities afterwards. I used to ride over to +the Grange every day, and very often Margaret would come with her aunt +and some of her consuls to the Castle. I was suspicious of my own +taste, and was only too glad to let her have her way about the +alterations and improvements in our home. +</P> + +<P> +We were to be married on the thirtieth of July, and on the evening of +the twenty-eighth Margaret drove over with some of the Bluebell party. +In the long summer twilight we all went out into the garden. Naturally +enough, Margaret and I were left to ourselves, and we wandered down by +the marble basins. +</P> + +<P> +"It is an odd coincidence," I said; "it was on this very night last +year that I first saw you." +</P> + +<P> +"Considering that it is the month of July," answered Margaret with a +laugh, "and that we have been here almost every day, I don't think the +coincidence is so extraordinary, after all." +</P> + +<P> +"No, dear," said I, "I suppose not. I don't know why it struck me. We +shall very likely be here a year from to-day, and a year from that. +The odd thing, when I think of it, is that you should be here at all. +But my luck has turned. I ought not to think anything odd that happens +now that I have you. It is all sure to be good." +</P> + +<P> +"A slight change in your ideas since that remarkable performance of +yours in Paris," said Margaret. "Do you know, I thought you were the +most extraordinary man I had ever met." +</P> + +<P> +"I thought you were the most charming woman I had ever seen. I +naturally did not want to lose any time in frivolities. I took you at +your word, I followed your advice, I asked you to marry me, and this is +the delightful result—what's the matter?" +</P> + +<P> +Margaret had started suddenly, and her hand tightened on my arm. An +old woman was coming up the path, and was close to us before we saw +her, for the moon had risen, and was shining full in our faces. The +woman turned out to be my old nurse. +</P> + +<P> +"It's only Judith, dear—don't be frightened," I said. Then I spoke to +the Welshwoman: "What are you about, Judith? Have you been feeding the +Woman of the Water?" +</P> + +<P> +"Ay—when the clock strikes, Willie—my Lord, I mean," muttered the old +creature, drawing aside to let us pass, and fixing her strange eyes on +Margaret's face. +</P> + +<P> +"What does she mean?" asked Margaret, when we had gone by.—"Nothing, +darling. The old thing is mildly crazy, but she is a good soul." +</P> + +<P> +We went on in silence for a few moments, and came to the rustic bridge +just above the artificial grotto through which the water ran out into +the park, dark and swift in its narrow channel. We stopped, and leaned +on the wooden rail. The moon was now behind us, and shone full upon +the long vista of basins and on the huge walls and towers of the Castle +above.—"How proud you ought to be of such a grand old place!" said +Margaret, softly. +</P> + +<P> +"It is yours now, darling," I answered. "You have as good a right to +love it as I—but I only love it because you are to live in it, dear." +</P> + +<P> +Her hand stole out and lay on mine, and we were both silent. Just then +the clock began to strike far off in the tower. I +counted—eight—nine—ten—eleven—I looked at my +watch—twelve—thirteen—I laughed. The bell went on striking. +</P> + +<P> +"The old clock has gone crazy, like Judith," I exclaimed. Still it +went on, note after note ringing out monotonously through the still +air. We leaned over the rail, instinctively looking in the direction +whence the sound came. On and on it went. I counted nearly a hundred, +out of sheer curiosity, for I understood that something had broken and +that the thing was running itself down. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly there was a crack as of breaking wood, a cry and a heavy +splash, and I was alone, clinging to the broken end of the rail of the +rustic bridge. +</P> + +<P> +I do not think I hesitated while my pulse beat twice. I sprang clear +of the bridge into the black rushing water, dived to the bottom, came +up again with empty hands, turned and swam downward through the grotto +in the thick darkness, plunging and diving at every stroke, striking my +head and hands against jagged stones and sharp corners, clutching at +last something in my fingers and dragging it up with all my might. I +spoke, I cried aloud, but there was no answer. I was alone in the +pitchy darkness with my burden, and the house was five hundred yards +away. Struggling still, I felt the ground beneath my feet, I saw a ray +of moonlight—the grotto widened, and the deep water became a broad and +shallow brook as I stumbled over the stones and at last laid Margaret's +body on the bank in the park beyond. +</P> + +<P> +"Ay, Willie, as the clock struck!" said the voice of Judith, the Welsh +nurse, as she bent down and looked at the white face. The old woman +must have turned back and followed us, seen the accident, and slipped +out by the lower gate of the garden. "Ay," she groaned, "you have fed +the Woman of the Water this night, Willie, while the clock was +striking." +</P> + +<P> +I scarcely heard her as I knelt beside the lifeless body of the woman I +loved, chafing the wet white temples and gazing wildly into the +wide-staring eyes. I remember only the first returning look of +consciousness, the first heaving breath, the first movement of those +dear hands stretching out towards me. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +That is not much of a story, you say. It is the story of my life. +That is all. It does not pretend to be anything else. Old Judith says +my luck turned on that summer's night when I was struggling in the +water to save all that was worth living for. A month later there was a +stone bridge above the grotto, and Margaret and I stood on it and +looked up at the moonlit Castle, as we had done once before, and as we +have done many times since. For all those things happened ten years +ago last summer, and this is the tenth Christmas Eve we have spent +together by the roaring logs in the old hall, talking of old times; and +every year there are more old times to talk of. There are curly-headed +boys, too, with red-gold hair and dark-brown eyes like their mother's, +and a little Margaret, with solemn black eyes like mine. Why could not +she look like her mother, too, as well as the rest of them? +</P> + +<P> +The world is very bright at this glorious Christmas time, and perhaps +there is little use in calling up the sadness of long ago, unless it be +to make the jolly fire-light seem more cheerful, the good wife's face +look gladder, and to give the children's laughter a merrier ring, by +contrast with all that is gone. Perhaps, too, some sad faced, +listless, melancholy youth, who feels that the world is very hollow, +and that life is like a perpetual funeral service, just as I used to +feel myself, may take courage from my example, and having found the +woman of his heart, ask her to marry him after half an hour's +acquaintance. But, on the whole, I would not advise any man to marry, +for the simple reason that no man will ever find a wife like mine, and +being obliged to go farther, he will necessarily fare worse. My wife +has done miracles, but I will not assert that any other woman is able +to follow her example. +</P> + +<P> +Margaret always said that the old place was beautiful, and that I ought +to be proud of it. I dare say she is right. She has even more +imagination than I. But I have a good answer and a plain one, which is +this,—that all the beauty of the Castle comes from her. She has +breathed upon it all, as the children blow upon the cold glass +window-panes in winter; and as their warm breath crystallizes into +landscapes from fairyland, full of exquisite shapes and traceries upon +the blank surface, so her spirit has transformed every gray stone of +the old towers, every ancient tree and hedge in the gardens, every +thought in my once melancholy self. All that was old is young, and all +that was sad is glad, and I am the gladdest of all. Whatever heaven +may be, there is no earthly paradise without woman, nor is there +anywhere a place so desolate, so dreary, so unutterably miserable that +a woman cannot make it seem heaven to the man she loves and who loves +her. +</P> + +<P> +I hear certain cynics laugh, and cry that all that has been said +before. Do not laugh, my good cynic. You are too small a man to laugh +at such a great thing as love. Prayers have been said before now by +many, and perhaps you say yours, too. I do not think they lose +anything by being repeated, nor you by repeating them. You say that +the world is bitter, and full of the Waters of Bitterness. Love, and +so live that you may be loved—the world will turn sweet for you, and +you shall rest like me by the Waters of Paradise. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap16"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +A MEMORABLE NIGHT +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +By ANNA KATHARINE GREEN +</H4> + +<P CLASS="intro"> +Copyright 1891 by Anna Katharine Green. +</P> + +<BR> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER I +</H4> + +<P> +I am a young physician of limited practice and great ambition. At the +time of the incidents I am about to relate, my office was in a +respectable house in Twenty-fourth Street, New York City, and was +shared, greatly to my own pleasure and convenience, by a clever young +German whose acquaintance I had made in the hospital, and to whom I had +become, in the one short year in which we had practised together, most +unreasonably attached. I say unreasonably, because it was a liking for +which I could not account even to myself, as he was neither especially +prepossessing in appearance nor gifted with any too great amiability of +character. He was, however, a brilliant theorist and an unquestionably +trustworthy practitioner, and for these reasons probably I entertained +for him a profound respect, and as I have already said a hearty and +spontaneous affection. +</P> + +<P> +As our specialties were the same, and as, moreover, they were of a +nature which did not call for night-work, we usually spent the evening +together. But once I failed to join him at the office, and it is of +this night I have to tell. +</P> + +<P> +I had been over to Orange, for my heart was sore over the quarrel I had +had with Dora, and I was resolved to make one final effort towards +reconciliation. But alas for my hopes, she was not at home; and, what +was worse, I soon learned that she was going to sail the next morning +for Europe. This news, coming as it did without warning, affected me +seriously, for I knew if she escaped from my influence at this time, I +should certainly lose her forever; for the gentleman concerning whom we +had quarrelled, was a much better match for her than I, and almost +equally in love. However, her father, who had always been my friend, +did not look upon this same gentleman's advantages with as favorable an +eye as she did, and when he heard I was in the house, he came hurrying +into my presence, with excitement written in every line of his fine +face. +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, Dick, my boy," he exclaimed joyfully, "how opportune this is! I +was wishing you would come, for, do you know, Appleby has taken passage +on board the same steamer as Dora, and if he and she cross together, +they will certainly come to an understanding, and that will not be fair +to you, or pleasing to me; and I do not care who knows it!" +</P> + +<P> +I gave him one look and sank, quite overwhelmed, into the seat nearest +me. Appleby was the name of my rival, and I quite agreed with her +father that the tête-à-têtes afforded by an ocean voyage would surely +put an end to the hopes which I had so long and secretly cherished. +</P> + +<P> +"Does she know he is going? Did she encourage him?" I stammered. +</P> + +<P> +But the old man answered genially: "Oh, she knows, but I cannot say +anything positive about her having encouraged him. The fact is, Dick, +she still holds a soft place in her heart for you, and if you were +going to be of the party—" +</P> + +<P> +"Well?" +</P> + +<P> +"I think you would come off conqueror yet." +</P> + +<P> +"Then I will be of the party," I cried. "It is only six now, and I can +be in New York by seven. That gives me five hours before midnight, +time enough in which to arrange my plans, see Richter, and make +everything ready for sailing in the morning." +</P> + +<P> +"Dick, you are a trump!" exclaimed the gratified father. "You have a +spirit I like, and if Dora does not like it too, then I am mistaken in +her good sense. But can you leave your patients?" +</P> + +<P> +"Just now I have but one patient who is in anything like a critical +condition," I replied, "and her case Richter understands almost as well +as I do myself. I will have to see her this evening of course and +explain, but there is time for that if I go now. The steamer sails at +nine?" +</P> + +<P> +"Precisely." +</P> + +<P> +"Do not tell Dora that I expect to be there; let her be surprised. +Dear girl, she is quite well, I hope?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, very well; only going over with her aunt to do some shopping. A +poor outlook for a struggling physician, you think. Well, I don't know +about that; she is just the kind of a girl to go from one extreme to +another. If she once loves you she will not care any longer about +Paris fashions." +</P> + +<P> +"She shall love me," I cried, and left him in a great hurry, to catch +the first train for Hoboken. +</P> + +<P> +It seemed wild, this scheme, but I determined to pursue it. I loved +Dora too much to lose her, and if three weeks' absence would procure me +the happiness of my life, why should I hesitate to avail myself of the +proffered opportunity. I rode on air as the express I had taken shot +from station to station, and by the time I had arrived at Christopher +Street Ferry my plans were all laid and my time disposed of till +midnight. +</P> + +<P> +It was therefore with no laggard step I hurried to my office, nor was +it with any ordinary feelings of impatience that I found Richter out; +for this was not his usual hour for absenting himself and I had much to +tell him and many advices to give. It was the first balk I had +received and I was fuming over it, when I saw what looked like a +package of books lying on the table before me, and though it was +addressed to my partner, I was about to take it up, when I heard my +name uttered in a tremulous tone, and turning, saw a man standing in +the doorway, who, the moment I met his eye, advanced into the room and +said: +</P> + +<P> +"O doctor, I have been waiting for you an hour. Mrs. Warner has been +taken very bad, sir, and she prays that you will not delay a moment +before coming to her. It is something serious I fear, and she may have +died already, for she would have no one else but you, and it is now an +hour since I left her." +</P> + +<P> +"And who are you?" I asked, for though I knew Mrs. Warner well—she is +the patient to whom I have already referred—I did not know her +messenger. +</P> + +<P> +"I am a servant in the house where she was taken ill." +</P> + +<P> +"Then she is not at home?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, sir, she is in Second Avenue." +</P> + +<P> +"I am very sorry," I began, "but I have not the time——" +</P> + +<P> +But he interrupted eagerly: "There is a carriage at the door; we +thought you might not have your phaeton ready." +</P> + +<P> +I had noticed the carriage. "Very well," said I. "I will go, but +first let me write a line——" +</P> + +<P> +"O sir," the man broke in pleadingly, "do not wait for anything. She +is really very bad, and I heard her calling for you as I ran out of the +house." +</P> + +<P> +"She had her voice then?" I ventured, somewhat distrustful of the whole +thing and yet not knowing how to refuse the man, especially as it was +absolutely necessary for me to see Mrs. Warner that night and get her +consent to my departure before I could think of making further plans. +</P> + +<P> +So, leaving word for Richter to be sure and wait for me if he came home +before I did, I signified to Mrs. Warner's messenger that I was ready +to go with him, and immediately took a seat in the carriage which had +been provided for me. The man at once jumped up on the box beside the +driver, and before I could close the carriage door we were off, riding +rapidly down Seventh Avenue. +</P> + +<P> +As we went the thought came, "What if Mrs. Warner will not let me off!" +But I dismissed the fear at once, for this patient of mine is an +extremely unselfish woman, and if she were not too ill to grasp the +situation, would certainly sympathize with the strait I was in and +consent to accept Richter's services in place of my own, especially as +she knows and trusts him. +</P> + +<P> +When the carriage stopped it was already dark and I could distinguish +little of the house I entered, save that it was large and old and did +not look like an establishment where a man servant would be likely to +be kept. +</P> + +<P> +"Is Mrs. Warner here?" I asked of the man who was slowly getting down +from the box. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, sir," he answered quickly; and I was about to ring the bell +before me, when the door opened and a young German girl, courtesying +slightly, welcomed me in, saying: +</P> + +<P> +"Mrs. Warner is upstairs, sir; in the front room, if you please." +</P> + +<P> +Not doubting her, but greatly astonished at the barren aspect of the +place I was in, I stumbled up the faintly lighted stairs before me and +entered the great front room. It was empty, but through an open door +at the other end I heard a voice saying: "He has come, madam;" and +anxious to see my patient, whose presence in this desolate house I +found it harder and harder to understand, I stepped into the room where +she presumably lay. +</P> + +<P> +Alas! for my temerity in doing so; for no sooner had I crossed the +threshold than the door by which I had entered closed with a click +unlike any I had ever heard before, and when I turned to see what it +meant, another click came from the opposite side of the room, and I +perceived, with a benumbed sense of wonder, that the one person whose +somewhat shadowy figure I had encountered on entering had vanished from +the place, and that I was shut up alone in a room without visible means +of egress. +</P> + +<P> +This was startling, and hard to believe at first, but after I had tried +the door by which I had entered and found it securely locked, and then +bounding to the other side of the room, tried the opposite one with the +same result, I could not but acknowledge I was caught. What did it +mean? Caught, and I was in haste, mad haste. Filling the room with my +cries, I shouted for help and a quick release, but my efforts were +naturally fruitless, and after exhausting myself in vain I stood still +and surveyed, with what equanimity was left me, the appearance of the +dreary place in which I had thus suddenly become entrapped. +</P> + +<BR> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER II +</H4> + +<P> +It was a small square room, and I shall not soon forget with what a +foreboding shudder I observed that its four blank walls were literally +unbroken by a single window, for this told me that I was in no +communication with the street, and that it would be impossible for me +to summon help from the outside world. The single gas jet burning in a +fixture hanging from the ceiling was the only relief given to the eye +in the blank expanse of white wall that surrounded me; while as to +furniture, the room could boast of nothing more than an old-fashioned +black-walnut table and two chairs, the latter cushioned, but stiff in +the back and generally dilapidated in appearance. The only sign of +comfort about me was a tray that stood on the table, containing a +couple of bottles of wine and two glasses. The bottles were full and +the glasses clean, and to add to this appearance of hospitality a box +of cigars rested invitingly near, which I could not fail to perceive, +even at the first glance, were of the very best brand. +</P> + +<P> +Astonished at these tokens of consideration for my welfare, and +confounded by the prospect which they offered of a lengthy stay in this +place, I gave another great shout; but to no better purpose than +before. Not a voice answered, and not a stir was heard in the house. +But there came from without the faint sound of suddenly moving wheels, +as if the carriage which I had left standing before the door had slowly +rolled away. If this were so, then was I indeed a prisoner, while the +moments so necessary to my plans, and perhaps to the securing of my +whole future happiness, were flying by like the wind. As I realized +this, and my own utter helplessness, I fell into one of the chairs +before me in a state of perfect despair. Not that any fears for my +life were disturbing me, though one in my situation might well question +if he would ever again breathe the open air from which he had been so +ingeniously lured. I did not in that first moment of utter +downheartedness so much as inquire the reason for the trick which had +been played upon me. No, my heart was full of Dora, and I was asking +myself if I were destined to lose her after all, and that through no +lack of effort on my part, but just because a party of thieves or +blackmailers had thought fit to play a game with my liberty. +</P> + +<P> +It could not be; there must be some mistake about it; it was some great +joke, or I was the victim of a dream, or suffering from some hideous +nightmare. Why, only a half hour before I was in my own office, among +my own familiar belongings, and now—— But, alas, it was no delusion. +Only four blank, whitewashed walls met my inquiring eyes, and though I +knocked and knocked again upon the two doors which guarded me on either +side, hollow echoes continued to be the only answer I received. +</P> + +<P> +Had the carriage then taken away the two persons I had seen in this +house, and was I indeed alone in its great emptiness? The thought made +me desperate, but notwithstanding this I was resolved to continue my +efforts, for I might be mistaken; there might yet be some being left +who would yield to my entreaties, if they were backed by something +substantial. +</P> + +<P> +Taking out my watch, I laid it on the table; it was just a quarter to +eight. Then I emptied my trousers pockets of whatever money they held, +and when all was heaped up before me, I could count but twelve dollars, +which, together with my studs and a seal ring which I wore, seemed a +paltry pittance with which to barter for the liberty of which I had +been robbed. But it was all I had with me, and I was willing to part +with it at once if only some one would unlock the door and let me go. +But how to make known my wishes even if there was any one to listen to +them? I had already called in vain, and there was no bell—yes, there +was; why had I not seen it before? There was a bell and I sprang to +ring it. But just as my hand fell on the cord, I heard a gentle voice +behind my back saying in good English, but with a strong foreign accent: +</P> + +<P> +"Put up your money, Mr. Atwater; we do not want your money, only your +society. Allow me to beg you to replace both watch and money." +</P> + +<P> +Wheeling about in my double surprise at the presence of this intruder +and his unexpected acquaintance with my name, I encountered the smiling +glance of a middle-aged man of genteel appearance and courteous +manners. He was bowing almost to the ground, and was, as I instantly +detected, of German birth and education, a gentleman, and not a +blackleg I had every reason to expect to see. +</P> + +<P> +"You have made a slight mistake," he was saying; "it is your society, +only your society, that we want." +</P> + +<P> +Astonished at his appearance, and exceedingly irritated by his words, I +stepped back as he offered me my watch, and bluntly cried: +</P> + +<P> +"If it is my society only that you want, you have certainly taken very +strange means to procure it. A thief could have set no neater trap, +and if it is money you want, state your sum and let me go, for my time +is valuable and my society likely to be unpleasant." +</P> + +<P> +He gave a shrug with his shoulders that in no wise interfered with his +set smile. +</P> + +<P> +"You choose to be facetious," he observed. "I have already remarked +that we have no use for your money. Will you sit down? Here is some +excellent wine, and if this brand of cigars does not suit you, I will +send for another." +</P> + +<P> +"Send for the devil!" I cried, greatly exasperated. "What do you mean +by keeping me in this place against my will? Open that door and let me +out, or——" +</P> + +<P> +I was ready to spring and he saw it. Smiling more atrociously than +ever, he slipped behind the table, and before I could reach him, had +quietly drawn a pistol, which he cocked before my eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"You are excited," he remarked, with a suavity that nearly drove me +mad. "Now excitement is no aid to good company, and I am determined +that none but good company shall be in this room to-night. So if you +will be kind enough to calm yourself, Mr. Atwater, you and I may yet +enjoy ourselves, but if not—" the action he made was significant, and +I felt the cold sweat break out on my forehead through all the heat of +my indignation. +</P> + +<P> +But I did not mean to show him that he had intimidated me. +</P> + +<P> +"Excuse me," said I, "and put down your pistol. Though you are making +me lose irredeemable time, I will try and control myself enough to give +you an opportunity for explaining yourself. Why have you entrapped me +into this place?" +</P> + +<P> +"I have already told you," said he, gently laying the pistol before +him, but within easy reach of his hand. +</P> + +<P> +"But that is preposterous," I began, fast losing my self-control again. +"You do not know me, and if you did——" +</P> + +<P> +"Pardon me, you see I know your name." +</P> + +<P> +Yes, that was true, and the fact set me thinking. How did he know my +name? I did not know him, nor did I know this house, or any reason for +which I could have been beguiled into it. Was I the victim of a +conspiracy, or was the man mad? Looking at him very earnestly, I +declared: +</P> + +<P> +"My name is Atwater, and so far you are right, but in learning that +much about me you must also have learned that I am neither rich nor +influential, nor of any special value to a blackmailer. Why choose me +out then for—your society? Why not choose some one who can—talk?" +</P> + +<P> +"I find your conversation very interesting." +</P> + +<P> +Baffled, exasperated almost beyond the power to restrain myself, I +shook my fist in his face, notwithstanding I saw his hand fly to his +pistol. +</P> + +<P> +"Let me go!" I shrieked. "Let me go out of this place. I have +business, I tell you, important business which means everything to me, +and which, if I do not attend to it to-night, will be lost to me +forever. Let me go, and I will so far reward you that I will speak to +no one of what has taken place here to-night, but go my ways, forgetful +of you, forgetful of this house, forgetful of all connected with it." +</P> + +<P> +"You are very good," was his quiet reply, "but this wine has to be +drunk." And he calmly poured out a glass, while I drew back in +despair. "You do not drink wine?" he queried, holding up the glass he +had filled between himself and the light. "It is a pity, for it is of +most rare vintage. But perhaps you smoke?" +</P> + +<P> +Sick and disgusted, I found a chair, and sat down in it. If the man +were crazy, there was certainly method in his madness. Besides, he had +not a crazy eye; there was calm calculation in it and not a little +good-nature. Did he simply want to detain me, and if so, did he have a +motive it would pay me to fathom before I exerted myself further to +insure my release? Answering the wave he made me with his hand by +reaching out for the bottle and filling myself a glass, I forced myself +to speak more affably as I remarked: +</P> + +<P> +"If the wine must be drunk, we had better be about it, as you can not +mean to detain me more than an hour, whatever reason you may have for +wishing my society." +</P> + +<P> +He looked at me inquiringly before answering, then tossing off his +glass, he remarked: +</P> + +<P> +"I am sorry, but in an hour a man can scarcely make the acquaintance of +another man's exterior." +</P> + +<P> +"Then you mean——" +</P> + +<P> +"To know you thoroughly, if you will be so good; I may never have the +opportunity again." +</P> + +<P> +He must be mad; nothing else but mania could account for such words and +such actions; and yet, if mad, why was he allowed to enter my presence? +The man who brought me here, the woman who received me at the door, had +not been mad. +</P> + +<P> +"And I must stay here——" I began. +</P> + +<P> +"Till I am quite satisfied. I am afraid that will take till morning." +</P> + +<P> +I gave a cry of despair, and then in my utter desperation spoke up to +him as I would to a man of feeling: +</P> + +<P> +"You don't know what you are doing; you don't know what I shall suffer +by any such cruel detention. This night is not like other nights to +me. This is a special night in my life, and I need it, I need it, I +tell you, to spend as I will. The woman I love"—it seemed horrible to +speak of her in this place, but I was wild at my helplessness, and +madly hoped I might awake some answering chord in a breast which could +not be void of all feeling or he would not have that benevolent look in +his eye—"the woman I love," I repeated, "sails for Europe to-morrow. +We have quarrelled, but she still cares for me, and if I can sail on +the same steamer, we will yet make up and be happy." +</P> + +<P> +"At what time does this steamer start?" +</P> + +<P> +"At nine in the morning." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, you shall leave this house at eight. If you go directly to the +steamer you will be in time." +</P> + +<P> +"But—but," I panted, "I have made no arrangements. I shall have to go +to my lodgings, write letters, get money. I ought to be there at this +moment. Have you no mercy on a man who never did you wrong, and only +asks to quit you and forget the precious hour you have made him lose?" +</P> + +<P> +"I am sorry," he said, "it is certainly quite unfortunate, but the door +will not be opened before eight. There is really no one in the house +to unlock it." +</P> + +<P> +"And do you mean to say," I cried aghast, "that you could not open that +door if you would, that you are locked in here as well as I, and that I +must remain here till morning, no matter how I feel or you feel?" +</P> + +<P> +"Will you not take a cigar?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +Then I began to see how useless it was to struggle, and visions of Dora +leaning on the steamer rail with that serpent whispering soft +entreaties in her ear came rushing before me, till I could have wept in +my jealous chagrin. +</P> + +<P> +"It is cruel, base, devilish," I began. "If you had the excuse of +wanting money, and took this method of wringing my all from me, I could +have patience, but to entrap and keep me here for nothing, when my +whole future happiness is trembling in the balance, is the work of a +fiend and——" I made a sudden pause, for a strange idea had struck me. +</P> + +<BR> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER III +</H4> + +<P> +What if this man, these men and this woman, were in league with him +whose rivalry I feared, and whom I had intended to supplant on the +morrow. It was a wild surmise, but was it any wilder than to believe I +was held here for a mere whim, a freak, a joke, as this bowing, smiling +man before me would have me believe? +</P> + +<P> +Rising in fresh excitement, I struck my hand on the table. "You want +to keep me from going on the steamer," I cried. "That other wretch who +loves her has paid you—" +</P> + +<P> +But that other wretch could not know that I was meditating any such +unusual scheme, as following him without a full day's warning. I +thought of this even before I had finished my sentence, and did not +need the blank astonishment in the face of the man before me to +convince me that I had given utterance to a foolish accusation. "It +would have been some sort of a motive for your actions," I humbly +added, as I sank back from my hostile attitude; "now you have none." +</P> + +<P> +I thought he bestowed upon me a look of quiet pity, but if so he soon +hid it with his uplifted glass. +</P> + +<P> +"Forget the girl," said he; "I know of a dozen just as pretty." +</P> + +<P> +I was too indignant to answer. +</P> + +<P> +"Women are the bane of life," he now sententiously exclaimed. "They +are ever intruding themselves between a man and his comfort, as for +instance just now between yourself and this good wine." +</P> + +<P> +I caught up the bottle in sheer desperation. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't talk of them," I cried, "and I will try and drink. I almost +wish there was poison in the glass. My death here might bring +punishment upon you." +</P> + +<P> +He shook his head, totally unmoved by my passion. +</P> + +<P> +"We deal punishment, not receive it. It would not worry me in the +least to leave you lying here upon the floor." +</P> + +<P> +I did not believe this, but I did not stop to weigh the question then; +I was too much struck by a word he had used. +</P> + +<P> +"Deal punishment?" I repeated. "Are you punishing me? Is that why I +am here?" +</P> + +<P> +He laughed and held out his glass to mine. +</P> + +<P> +"You enjoy being sarcastic," he observed. "Well, it gives a spice to +conversation, I own. Talk is apt to be dull without it." +</P> + +<P> +For reply I struck the glass from his hand; it fell and shivered, and +he looked for the moment really distressed. +</P> + +<P> +"I had rather you had struck me," he remarked, "for I have an answer +for an injury like that; but for a broken glass——" He sighed and +looked dolefully at the pieces on the floor. +</P> + +<P> +Mortified and somewhat ashamed, I put down my own glass. +</P> + +<P> +"You should not have exasperated me," I cried, and walked away beyond +temptation, to the other side of the room. +</P> + +<P> +His spirits had received a dampener, but in a few minutes he seized +upon a cigar and began smoking; as the wreaths curled over his head he +began to talk, and this time it was on subjects totally foreign to +myself and even to himself. It was good talk; that I recognized, +though I hardly listened to what he said. I was asking myself what +time it had now got to be, and what was the meaning of my +incarceration, till my brain became weary and I could scarcely +distinguish the topic he discussed. But he kept on for all my seeming, +and indeed real, indifference, kept on hour after hour in a monologue +he endeavored to make interesting, and which probably would have been +so if the time and occasion had been fit for my enjoying it. As it +was, I had no ear for choicest phrases, his subtlest criticisms, or his +most philosophic disquisitions. I was wrapped up in self and my cruel +disappointment, and when in a certain access of frenzy I leaped to my +feet and took a look at the watch still lying on the table, and saw it +was four o'clock in the morning, I gave a bound of final despair, and +throwing myself on the floor, gave myself up to the heavy sleep that +mercifully came to relieve me. +</P> + +<P> +I was roused by feeling a touch on my breast. Clapping my hand to the +spot where I had felt the intruding hand, I discovered that my watch +had been returned to my pocket. Drawing it out I first looked at it +and then cast my eyes quickly about the room. There was no one with +me, and the doors stood open between me and the hall. It was eight +o'clock, as my watch had just told me. +</P> + +<P> +That I rushed from the house and took the shortest road to the steamer, +goes without saying. I could not cross the ocean with Dora, but I +might yet see her and tell her how near I came to giving her my company +on that long voyage which now would only serve to further the ends of +my rival. But when, after torturing delays on cars and ferry-boats, +and incredible efforts to pierce a throng that was equally determined +not to be pierced, I at last reached the wharf, it was to behold her, +just as I had fancied in my wildest moments, leaning on a rail of the +ship and listening, while she abstractedly waved her hand to some +friends below, to the words of the man who had never looked so handsome +to me or so odious as at this moment of his unconscious triumph. Her +father was near her, and from his eager attitude and rapidly wandering +gaze I saw that he was watching for me. At last he spied me struggling +aboard, and immediately his face lighted up in a way which made me wish +he had not thought it necessary to wait for my anticipated meeting with +his daughter. +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, Dick, you are late," he began, effusively, as I put foot on deck. +</P> + +<P> +But I waved him back and went at once to Dora. +</P> + +<P> +"Forgive me, pardon me," I incoherently said, as her sweet eyes rose in +startled pleasure to mine. "I would have brought you flowers, but I +meant to sail with you, Dora, I tried to—but wretches, villains, +prevented it and—and——" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, it does not matter," she said, and then blushed, probably because +the words sounded unkind, "I mean——" +</P> + +<P> +But she could not say what she meant, for just then the bell rang for +all visitors to leave, and her father came forward, evidently thinking +all was right between us, smiled benignantly in her face, gave her a +kiss and me a wink and disappeared in the crowd that was now rapidly +going ashore. +</P> + +<P> +I felt that I must follow, but I gave her one look and one squeeze of +the hand, and then as I saw her glances wander to his face, I groaned +in spirit, stammered some words of choking sorrow and was gone, before +her embarrassment would let her speak words, which I knew would only +add to my grief and make this hasty parting unendurable. +</P> + +<P> +The look of amazement and chagrin with which her father met my +reappearance on the dock can easily be imagined. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, Dick," he exclaimed, "aren't you going after all? I thought I +could rely on you. Where's your plucky lad? Scared off by a frown? I +wouldn't have believed it, Dick. What if she does frown to-day; she +will smile to-morrow." +</P> + +<P> +I shook my head; I could not tell him just then that it was not through +any lack of pluck on my part that I had failed him. +</P> + +<P> +When I left the dock I went straight to a restaurant, for I was faint +as well as miserable. But my cup of coffee choked me and the rolls and +eggs were more than I could face. Rising impatiently, I went out. Was +any one more wretched than I that morning and could any one nourish a +more bitter grievance? As I strode towards my lodgings I chewed the +cud of my disappointment till my wrongs loomed up like mountains and I +was seized by a spirit of revenge. Should I let such an interference +as I had received go unpunished? No, if the wretch who had detained me +was not used to punishment he should receive a specimen of it now and +from a man who was no longer a prisoner, and who once aroused did not +easily forego his purposes. Turning aside from my former destination, +I went immediately to a police-station and when I had entered my +complaint was astonished to see that all the officials had grouped +about me and were listening to my words with the most startled interest. +</P> + +<P> +"Was the man who came for you a German?" one asked. +</P> + +<P> +I said "Yes." +</P> + +<P> +"And the man who stood guardian over you and entertained you with wine +and cigars, was not he a German too?" +</P> + +<P> +I nodded acquiescence and they at once began to whisper together; then +one of them advanced to me and said: +</P> + +<P> +"You have not been home, I understand; you had better come." +</P> + +<P> +Astonished by his manner I endeavored to inquire what he meant, but he +drew me away, and not till we were within a stone's throw of my office +did he say, "You must prepare yourself for a shock. The impertinences +you suffered from last night were unpleasant no doubt, but if you had +been allowed to return home, you might not now be deploring them in +comparative peace and safety." +</P> + +<P> +"What do you mean?" +</P> + +<P> +"That your partner was not as fortunate as yourself. Look up at the +house; what do you see there?" +</P> + +<P> +A crowd was what I saw first, but he made me look higher, and then I +perceived that the windows of my room, of our room, were shattered and +blackened and that part of the casement of one had been blown out. +</P> + +<P> +"A fire!" I shrieked. "Poor Richter was smoking——" +</P> + +<P> +"No, he was not smoking. He had no time for a smoke. An infernal +machine burst in that room last night and your friend was its wretched +victim." +</P> + +<P> +I never knew why my friend's life was made a sacrifice to the revenge +of his fellow-countrymen. Though we had been intimate in the year we +had been together, he had never talked to me of his country and I had +never seen him in company with one of his own nation. But that he was +the victim of some political revenge was apparent, for though it proved +impossible to find the man who had detained me, the house was found and +ransacked, and amongst other secret things was discovered the model of +the machine which had been introduced into our room, and which had +proved so fatal to the man it was addressed to. Why men who were so +relentless in their purposes towards him should have taken such pains +to keep me from sharing his fate, is one of those anomalies in human +nature which now and then awake our astonishment. If I had not lost +Dora through my detention at their hands I should look back upon that +evening with sensations of thankfulness. As it is, I sometimes +question if it would not have been better if they had let me take my +chances. +</P> + +<HR ALIGN="center" WIDTH="60%"> + +<P> +Have I lost Dora? From a letter I received to-day I begin to think not. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap17"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE MAN FROM RED DOG +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +By ALFRED HENRY LEWIS +</H4> + +<P CLASS="intro"> +Copyright 1897 by Frederick A. Stokes Company. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +"Let me try one of them thar seegyars." +</P> + +<P> +It was the pleasant after-dinner hour, and I was on the veranda for a +quiet smoke. The Old Cattleman had just thrown down his paper; the +half-light of the waning sun was a bit too dim for his eyes of seventy +years. +</P> + +<P> +"Whenever I behold a seegyar," said the old fellow, as he puffed +voluminously at the principe I passed over, "I thinks of what that +witness says in the murder trial at Socorro. +</P> + +<P> +"'What was you-all doin' in camp yourse'f,' asked the jedge of this +yere witness, 'the day of the killin'?' +</P> + +<P> +"'Which,' says the witness, oncrossin' his laigs an' lettin' on he +ain't made bashful an' oneasy by so much attentions bein' shown him, +'which I was a-eatin' of a few sardines, a-drinkin' of a few drinks of +whiskey, a-smokin' of a few seegyars, an' a-romancin' 'round.'" +</P> + +<P> +After this abrupt, not to say ambiguous reminiscence, the Old Cattleman +puffed contentedly a moment. +</P> + +<P> +"What murder trial was this you speak of?" I asked. "Who had been +killed?" +</P> + +<P> +"Now I don't reckon I ever does know who it is gets downed," he +replied. "This yere murder trial itse'f is news to me complete. They +was waggin' along with it when I trails into Socorro that time, an' I +merely sa'nters over to the co't that a-way to hear what's goin' on. +The jedge is sorter gettin' in on the play while I'm listenin'. +</P> + +<P> +"'What was the last words of this yere gent who's killed?' asked the +jedge of this witness. +</P> + +<P> +"'As nearly as I keeps tabs, jedge,' says the witness, 'the dyin' +statement of this person is: "Four aces to beat." +</P> + +<P> +"'Which if deceased had knowed Socorro like I does,' says the jedge, +like he's commentin' to himse'f, 'he'd shorely realized that sech +remarks is simply sooicidal.'" +</P> + +<P> +Again the Old Cattleman relapsed into silence and the smoke of the +principe. +</P> + +<P> +"How did the trial come out?" I queried. "Was the accused found +guilty?" +</P> + +<P> +"Which the trial itse'f," he replied, "don't come out. Thar's a passel +of the boys who's come into town to see that jestice is done, an' bein' +the round-up is goin' for'ard at the time, they nacherally feels +hurried an' pressed for leesure. They-alls oughter be back on the +range with their cattle. So the fifth day, when things is loiterin' +along at the trial till it looks like the law has hobbles on, an' the +word goes round it's goin' to be a week yet before the jury gets action +on this miscreant who's bein' tried, the boys becomes plumb aggravated +an' wearied out that a-way; an', kickin' in the door of the calaboose, +they searches out the felon, swings him to a cottonwood not otherwise +engaged, an' the right prevails. Nacherally the trial bogs down right +thar." +</P> + +<P> +After another season of silence and smoke, the Old Cattleman struck in +again. +</P> + +<P> +"Speakin' of killin's, while I'm the last gent to go fosterin' idees of +bloodshed, I'm some discouraged jest now by what I've been readin' in +that paper about a dooel between some Eytalians, an' it shorely tries +me the way them aliens plays boss. It's obvious as stars on a cl'ar +night, they never means fight a little bit. I abhors dooels, an' +cowers from the mere idee. But, after all, business is business, an' +when folks fights 'em the objects of the meetin' oughter be blood. But +the way these yere European shorthorns fixes it, a gent shorely runs a +heap more resk of becomin' a angel abrupt, attendin' of a Texas +cake-walk in a purely social way. +</P> + +<P> +"Do they ever fight dooels in the West? Why, yes—some. My mem'ry +comes a-canterin' up right now with the details of an encounter I once +beholds in Wolfville. Thar ain't no time much throwed away with a +dooel in the Southwest. The people's mighty extemporaneous, an' don't +go browsin' 'round none sendin' challenges in writin', an' that sort of +flapdoodle. When a gent notices the signs a-gettin' about right for +him to go on the war-path, he picks out his meat, surges up, an' +declares himse'f. The victim, who is most likely a mighty serious an' +experienced person, don't copper the play by makin' vain remarks, but +brings his gatlin' into play surprisin'. Next it's bang! bang! bang! +mixed up with flashes an' white smoke, an' the dooel is over complete. +The gent who still adorns our midst takes a drink on the house, while +St. Peter onbars things a lot an' arranges gate an' seat checks with +the other in the realms of light. That's all thar is to it. The tide +of life ag'in flows onward to the eternal sea, an' nary ripple. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, this yere Wolfville dooel! Well, it's this a-way. The day is +blazin' hot, an' business layin' prone an' dead—jest blistered to +death. A passel of us is sorter pervadin' round the dance-hall, it +bein' the biggest an' coolest store in camp. A monte game is +strugglin' for breath in a feeble, fitful way in a corner, an' some of +us is a-watch'in'; an' some a-settin' 'round loose a-thinkin'; but all +keepin mum an' still, 'cause it's so hot. +</P> + +<P> +"Jest then some gent on a hoss goes whoopin' up the street a-yellin' +an' a-whirlin' the loop of his rope, an' allowin' generally he's havin' +a mighty good time. +</P> + +<P> +"'Who's this yere toomultuous man on the hoss?' says Enright, +a-regardin' of him in a displeased way from the door. +</P> + +<P> +"'I meets him up the street a minute back,' says Dan Boggs, 'an' he +allows he's called "The Man from Red Dog." He says he's took a day off +to visit us, an' aims to lay waste the camp some before he goes back.' +</P> + +<P> +"About then the Red Dog man notes old Santa Rosa, who keeps the Mexican +<I>baile</I> hall, an' his old woman, Marie, a-fussin' with each other in +front of the New York Store. They's locked horns over a drink or +something an' is powwowin' mighty onamiable. +</P> + +<P> +"'Whatever does this yere Mexican fam'ly mean,' says the Red Dog man, +a-surveyin' of 'em plenty scornful, 'a-draggin' of their domestic +brawls out yere to offend a sufferin' public for? Whyever don't they +stay in their wickeyup an' fight, an' not take to puttin' it all over +the American race which ain't in the play' none an' don't thirst +tharfor? However, I unites an' reeconciles this divided household +easy.' +</P> + +<P> +"With this the Red Dog man drops the loop of his lariat round the two +contestants an' jumps his bronco up the street like it's come outen a +gun. Of course Santa Rosa an' Marie goes along on their heads +permiscus. +</P> + +<P> +"They goes coastin' along ontil they gets pulled into a mesquite-bush, +an' the rope slips offen the saddle, an' thar they be. We-alls goes +over from the dance-hall, extricatin' of 'em, an' final they rounds up +mighty hapless an' weak, an' can only walk. They shorely lose enough +hide to make a pair of leggin's. +</P> + +<P> +"'Which I brings 'em together like twins,' says the Red Dog man, ridin' +back for his rope. 'I offers two to one, no limit, they don't fight +none whatever for a month.' +</P> + +<P> +"Which, as it shorely looks like he's right, no one takes him. So the +Red Dog man leaves his bluff a-hangin' an' goes into the dance-hall, +a-givin' of it out cold an' clammy he meditates libatin'. +</P> + +<P> +"'All promenade to the bar,' yells the Red Dog man as he goes in. 'I'm +a wolf, an' it's my night to howl. Don't 'rouse me, barkeep, with the +sight of merely one bottle; set 'em all up. I'm some fastidious about +my fire-water an' likes a chance to select.' +</P> + +<P> +"Well, we-alls takes our inspiration, an' the Red Dog man tucks his +onder his belt an' then turns round to Enright. +</P> + +<P> +"'I takes it you're the old he-coon of this yere outfit?' says the Red +Dog man, soopercilious-like. +</P> + +<P> +"'Which, if I ain't,' says Enright, 'it's plenty safe as a play to let +your wisdom flow this a-way till the he-coon gets yere.' +</P> + +<P> +"'If thar's anythin',' says the Red Dog man, 'I turns from sick, it's +voylence an' deevastation. But I hears sech complaints constant of +this yere camp of Wolfville, I takes my first idle day to ride over an' +line things up. Now yere I be, an' while I regrets it, I finds +you-alls is a lawless, onregenerate set, a heap sight worse than +roomer. I now takes the notion—for I sees no other trail—that by +next drink time I climbs into the saddle, throws my rope 'round this +den of sin, an' removes it from the map.' +</P> + +<P> +"'Nacherally,' says Enright, some sarcastic, 'in makin' them schemes +you ain't lookin' for no trouble whatever with a band of tarrapins like +us.' +</P> + +<P> +"'None whatever,' says the Red Dog man, mighty confident. 'In thirty +minutes I distributes this yere hamlet 'round in the landscape same as +them Greasers; which feat becomin' hist'ry, I then canters back to Red +Dog.' +</P> + +<P> +"'Well,' says Enright, 'it's plenty p'lite to let us know what's comin' +this a-way.' +</P> + +<P> +"'Oh! I ain't tellin' you none,' says the Red Dog man, 'I simply lets +fly this hint, so any of you-alls as has got bric-a-brac he values +speshul, he takes warnin' some an' packs it off all safe.' +</P> + +<P> +"It's about then when Cherokee Hall, who's lookin' on, shoulders in +between Enright an' the Red Dog man, mighty positive. Cherokee is a +heap sot in his idees, an' I sees right off he's took a notion ag'in +the Red Dog man. +</P> + +<P> +"'As you've got a lot of work cut out,' says Cherokee, eyein' the Red +Dog man malignant, 's'pose we tips the canteen ag'in.' +</P> + +<P> +"'I shorely goes you,' says the Red Dog man. 'I drinks with friend, +an' I drinks with foe; with the pard of my bosom an' the shudderin' +victim of my wrath all sim'lar.' +</P> + +<P> +"Cherokee turns out a big drink an' stands a-holdin' of it in his hand. +I wants to say right yere, this Cherokee's plenty guileful. +</P> + +<P> +"'You was namin',' says Cherokee, 'some public improvements you aims to +make; sech as movin' this yere camp 'round some, I believes?' +</P> + +<P> +"'That's whatever,' says the Red Dog man, 'an' the holycaust I +'nitiates is due to start in fifteen minutes.' +</P> + +<P> +"'I've been figgerin' on you,' says Cherokee, 'an' I gives you the +result in strict confidence without holdin' out a kyard. When you-all +talks of tearin' up Wolfville, you're a liar an' a hoss-thief, an' you +ain't goin' to tear up nothin'.' +</P> + +<P> +"'What's this I hears!' yells the frenzied Red Dog man, reachin' for +his gun. +</P> + +<P> +"But he never gets it, for the same second Cherokee spills the glass of +whiskey straight in his eyes, an' the next he's anguished an' blind as +a mole. +</P> + +<P> +"'I'll fool this yere human simoon up a lot,' says Cherokee, a-hurlin' +of the Red Dog man to the floor, face down, while his nine-inch bowie +shines in his hand like the sting of a wasp. 'I shore fixes him so he +can't get a job clerkin' in a store,' an' grabbin' the Red Dog man's +ha'r, which is long as the mane of a pony, he slashes it off close in +one motion. +</P> + +<P> +"'Thar's a fringe for your leggin's, Nell,' remarks Cherokee, a-turnin' +of the crop over to Faro Nell. 'Now, Doc,' Cherokee goes on to Doc +Peets, 'take this yere Red Dog stranger over to the Red Light, fix his +eyes all right, an' then tell him, if he thinks he needs blood in this, +to take his Winchester an' go north in the middle of the street. In +twenty minutes by the watch I steps outen the dance-hall door a-lookin' +for him. P'int him to the door all fair an' squar'. I don't aim to +play nothin' low on this yere gent. He gets a chance for his ante.' +</P> + +<P> +"Doc Peets sorter accoomilates the Red Dog man, who is cussin' an' +carryin' on scandalous, an' leads him over to the Red Light. In a +minute word comes to Cherokee as his eyes is roundin' up all proper, +an' that he's makin' war-medicine an' is growin' more hostile constant, +an' to heel himse'f. At that Cherokee, mighty ca'm, sends out for Jack +Moore's Winchester, which is an 'eight-squar',' latest model. +</P> + +<P> +"'Oh, Cherokee!' says Faro Nell, beginnin' to cry, an' curlin' her arms +'round his neck. 'I'm 'fraid he's goin' to down you. Ain't thar no +way to fix it? Can't Dan yere settle with this Red Dog man?' +</P> + +<P> +"'Cert,' says Dan Boggs, 'an' I makes the trip too gleeful. Jest to +spar' Nell's feelin's, Cherokee, an' not to interfere with no gent's +little game, I takes your hand an' plays it.' +</P> + +<P> +"'Not none,' says Cherokee; 'this is my deal. Don't cry, Nellie,' he +adds, smoothin' down her yaller ha'r. 'Folks in my business has to +hold themse'fs ready to face any game on the word, an' they never +weakens or lays down. An' another thing, little girl; I gets this Red +Dog sharp shore. I'm in the middle of a run of luck; I holds fours +twice last night, with a flush an' a full hand out ag'in 'em.' +</P> + +<P> +"Nell at last lets go of Cherokee's neck, an', bein' a female an' timid +that a-way, allows she'll go, an' won't stop to see the shootin' none. +We applauds the idee, thinkin' she might shake Cherokee some if she +stays; an' of course a gent out shootin' for his life needs his nerve. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, the twenty minutes is up; the Red Dog man gets his rifle offen +his saddle an' goes down the middle of the street. Turnin' up his big +sombrero, he squares 'round, cocks his gun, an' waits. Then Enright +goes out with Cherokee an' stands him in the street about a hundred +yards from the Red Dog man. After Cherokee's placed he holds up his +hand for attention an' says: +</P> + +<P> +"'When all is ready I stands to one side an' drops my hat. You-alls +fires at will.' +</P> + +<P> +"Enright goes over to the side of the street, counts 'one,' 'two,' +'three,' an' drops his hat. Bangety! Bang! Bang! goes the rifles like +the roll of a drum. Cherokee can work a Winchester like one of these +yere Yankee 'larm-clocks, an' that Red Dog hold-up don't seem none +behind. +</P> + +<P> +"About the fifth fire the Red Dog man sorter steps for'ard an' drops +his gun; an' after standin' onsteady for a second, he starts to +cripplin' down at his knees. At last he comes ahead on his face like a +landslide. Thar's two bullets plum through his lungs, an' when we gets +to him the red froth is comin' outen his mouth some plenteous. +</P> + +<P> +"We packs him back into the Red Light an' lays him onto a monte-table. +Bimeby he comes to a little an' Peets asks him whatever he thinks he +wants. +</P> + +<P> +"'I wants you-alls to take off my moccasins an' pack me into the +street,' says the Red Dog man. 'I ain't allowin' for my old mother in +Missoury to be told as how I dies in no gin-mill, which she shorely +'bominates of 'em. An' I don't die with no boots on, neither.' +</P> + +<P> +"We-alls packs him back into the street ag'in, an' pulls away at his +boots. About the time we gets 'em off he sags back convulsive, an' +thar he is as dead as Santa Anna. +</P> + +<P> +"'What sort of a game is this, anyhow?' says Dan Boggs, who, while we +stands thar, has been pawin' over the Red Dog man's rifle. 'Looks like +this vivacious party's plumb locoed. Yere's his hind-sights wedged up +for a thousand yards, an' he's been a-shootin' of cartridges with a +hundred an' twenty grains of powder into 'em. Between the sights an' +the jump of the powder, he's shootin' plumb over Cherokee an' aimin' +straight at him.' +</P> + +<P> +"'Nellie,' says Enright, lookin' remorseful at the girl, who colors up +an' begins to cry agin, 'did you cold-deck this yere Red Dog sport this +a-way?' +</P> + +<P> +"'I'm 'frald,' sobs Nell, 'he gets Cherokee; so I slides over when +you-alls is waitin' an' fixes his gun some.' +</P> + +<P> +"'Which I should shorely concede you did,' says Enright. 'The way that +Red Dog gent manipulates his weepon shows he knows his game; an' except +for you a-settin' things up on him, I'm powerful afraid he'd spoiled +Cherokee a whole lot.' +</P> + +<P> +"'Well, gents,' goes on Enright, after thinkin' a while, 'I reckons +we-alls might as well drink on it. Hist'ry never shows a game yet, an' +a woman in it, which is on the squar', an' we meekly b'ars our burdens +with the rest.'" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap18"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +JEAN MICHAUD'S LITTLE SHIP +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +By CHARLES G. D. ROBERTS +</H4> + +<P CLASS="intro"> +Reprinted, by permission of the author, from "The Saturday Evening +Post." All rights reserved. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Patiently, doggedly, yet with the light in his eyes that belongs to the +enthusiast and the dreamer, young Jean Michaud had worked at it. +Throughout the winter he had hewed the seasoned timbers and the +diminutive hackmatack "knees" from the swamp far back in the Equille +Valley; and whenever the sledding was good with his yoke of black oxen +he had hauled his materials to the secret place of his shipbuilding by +the winding shore of a deep tidal tributary of the Port Royal. In the +spring he had laid the keel and riveted securely to it the squared +hackmatack knees. It was unusual to use such sturdy and unmanageable +timbers as these hackmatack knees for a craft so small as this which +the young Acadian was building; but Jean Michaud's thoughts were long +thoughts and went far ahead. He was putting all his hopes as well as +all his scant patrimony into this little ship; and he was resolved that +it should be strong to carry his fortunes. +</P> + +<P> +Through all the green and blue and golden Acadian summer he had toiled +joyously at bending the thin planks and riveting them soundly to the +ribs, the stem and the sternpost. It was hot work, but white and +savory, the clean spruce planks that he wrought with breathing sweet +scents to his lungs as adze and chisel and saw set free the tonic +spirit of their fibres. His chips soon spread a yellow carpet over the +mossy sward and the tree-roots. The yellow sides of his graceful craft +presently arose high among the green kissing branches of the water-ash +and Indian pear. The tawny golden shimmering current of the creek +lipped up at high tide close under the stern of the little ship and set +afloat the lowest layers of the chips; while at ebb a gleaming abyss of +red mud with walls sloping sharply to a mere rivulet at their foot +seemed to tempt the structure to a premature launching and a wild +swooping rush to oozy doom. Very secluded, far apart from beaten +highway or forest byway, and quite aside from all the river traffic, +was the place of Jean Michaud's shipbuilding. And so it came about +that the clear ringing blows of his adze, the sharp staccato of his +diligent hammer and the strident crying of his saw brought no answer +but the chatter of the striped chipmunks among the near tree-roots, or +the scolding of the garrulous and inquisitive red squirrels from the +branches overhead. At the quiet of the noon hour, while Jean lay in +the shade contemplating his handiwork, and weaving his many-colored +dreams, and munching his brown-bread cakes and pale cheese, the +clucking partridge hen would lead her brood out to investigate the +edges of the chip-strewn open, where insects gathered in the heat. And +afterward, when once more Jean's hammering set up its brisk and +cheerful echoes, the big golden-wing woodpeckers would promptly accept +the sound as a challenge, and begin an emulous rat-tat-tat-tat-ting on +the resonant sound-board of a dead beech not far off. +</P> + +<P> +By the time the partridge brood had taken to whirring up into the maple +branches when alarmed, instead of scurrying to cover in the underbrush, +the hull was completed; and a smell of smoking pitch drowned the woodsy +odors as Jean calked the seams. Then the pale yellow of the timbers no +more shone through the reddening leafage, but a sombre black bulk +loomed impressively above the chips, daunting the squirrels for a few +days with its strange shadow. By the time of the moose-calling, when +the rowan-berries hung in great scarlet bunches and half the red +leafage was turning brown, and the pale gold birch leaves fell in +fluttering showers at every gust, two slim masts had raised their tops +above the trees, and a white bowsprit was thrusting its nose into the +branches of the nearest red maple. Under the bowsprit glittered a +carved and gilded Madonna, the most auspicious figurehead to which, in +Jean's eyes, he could intrust the fortunes of his handiwork. A few +days more and the ship was done—so nearly complete that three or four +hours of work would make her ready for sea. Being so small, it was +feasible to launch her in this advanced state of equipment; and the +conditions under which she had been built made it necessary that she +should be prepared to hurry straight from the greased ways of the +launching to the security of the open sea. The tidal creek in which +she would first take water could give her no safe harborage; and once +out of the creek she would have to make all speed, under cover of +night, till Port Royal River and the sodded ramparts of Annapolis town +should be left many miles astern. +</P> + +<P> +Having made his preparations and gathered his materials far ahead, and +devised his precautions with subtlety, and accustomed his neighbors to +the idea that he was an erratic youth, given to long absences and +futile schemes, not worth gossip, Jean had succeeded in keeping his +enterprise a secret from all but two persons. These two, deep in his +counsel's from the first, were Barbe Dieudonné, his sweetheart, and +Mich' Masson, his friend and ally. +</P> + +<P> +Mich' Masson—whose home, which served him best as a place to stay away +from, was in the village of Grand Pré, far up on the Basin of +Minas—had been Jean's close friend since early boyhood, in the days +before Port Royal town had been captured by the English and found its +name changed to Annapolis. He was a daring adventurer, hunter, +woods-ranger, an implacable partisan of the French cause, and just now +deeply interested in the traffic between Acadie and the new French +fortress city of Louisburg—a traffic which the English Governor was +angrily determined to break up. Mich' Masson could sail a ship as well +as set a dead-fall or lay an ambush. He had kept bright in Jean's +heart the flame of hatred against the English conquerors of Acadie. It +was he who had come to the aid of Jean's shipbuilding from time to +time, when timbers had to be put in place which were too heavy for one +pair of hands to work with. It was, indeed, at his suggestion that +Jean had finally decided to sell his cottage on the outskirts of +Annapolis town, his scrap of upland with its apple trees in full +bearing, his strip of rich dike-land with its apple trees in full +bearing, his strip of rich dike-forbidden traffic—and to settle under +the walls of Louisburg, where the flag he loved should always wave over +his roof-tree. It was Mich' Masson who had shown Jean how by this +course he could quickly grow rich, and make a home for Barbe which that +somewhat disconcerting and incomprehensible maiden would not scorn to +accept. Mich' Masson loved his own honor. He loved Jean. He hated +the English. Jean's secret was safe with him. +</P> + +<P> +Mademoiselle Barbe, under a disguise of indifference which sometimes +reduced Jean to the not unprofitable condition wherein hard work is the +sole refuge from despair, hid a passionate interest in her lover's +undertaking. She, too, hated the new domination. She, too, chafed to +escape from Annapolis and take up life anew under her old Flag of the +Fleur-de-lis. Moreover, her restless and fiery spirit could accept no +contented tiller of green Acadian acres for a mate; and she was +resolved that Jean's courageous heart and stirring dreams should +translate themselves into action. She would have him not only the +daring dreamer but the daring doer—the successful smuggler, the shrewd +foiler of the English watch-dogs, the admired and consulted partisan +leader. That he had it in him to be all these things she felt utterly +convinced; but she proposed that the debilitating effects of too much +happiness should have no chance of postponing his success. Her keen +watchfulness detected every weak spot in Jean's enterprise, every +unguarded point in his secret; and her two-edged mockery, which seemed +as careless and inconsequent as the wind, at once accomplished the +effects she had in view. Her fickleness of mood, her bewildering +caprice, were the iridescent foam-bubbles veiling a deep and steady +current. She knew that she loved Jean's love for her, of which she +felt as certain as dawn does of the sunrise. She had a suspicion in +the deep of her heart that she might be in love with Jean himself; but +of this she was in no haste to be assured. She was loyal in every +fibre. And Jean's secret was safe with her. +</P> + +<P> +Thus the wonder came to pass that Jean's secret, though known to three +people, yet remained so long a secret. Had the English Governor, +behind his sodded ramparts overlooking the tide, got wind of it, never +would Jean Michaud's little ship have sailed the open, save with an +English captain and an English crew. It would have been confiscated, +on the not unreasonable presumption that it was intended for the +forbidden trade. +</P> + +<P> +Early in the afternoon, on a day of mid-October, Jean stepped down the +ladder which leaned against the starboard bow of his ship, and +contemplated with satisfaction the name, "Mon Rêve," which he had just +painted in strong, gold lettering. The exultation in his eyes became a +passion of love and worship, as he turned to the slim girl who lay +curled up luxuriously on a sweet-smelling pile of dried ferns and +marsh-grass, watching him. +</P> + +<P> +"Since you won't let me name her directly after you, that is the +nearest I can come to it, Barbe," he said. "You can't find fault with +that. You are my dream—and all else besides." +</P> + +<P> +For a moment she watched him in silence. Her figure was of a childish +slenderness, and there was a childish abandon in her attitude. The +small hands crossed idly in her lap were very dark and thin and +long-fingered, with rosy nails. She was dressed in skirt and bodice of +the creamy Acadian homespun linen, the skirt reaching not quite to her +slim ankles. Her mouth was full and red, half sorrowful, half mocking. +Her face, small and rather thin, was tanned to a clear, dark brown, and +of a type that suggested a strain of the ancient blood of the Basques. +The thick black masses of her hair, with a rebel wave in them, and here +and there a glint of flame, half covered her little ears and were +gathered into a knot at the back of her neck. The brim of her +low-crowned hat of quilted linen was tilted far down to shade her face; +and her eyes, very green and clear and large, made a bewildering +brilliance in the shadow. +</P> + +<P> +The light in her eyes softened presently, and she said in a low voice: +</P> + +<P> +"Poor boy, a very sharp reality you find me most of the time, I'm +afraid." +</P> + +<P> +For this unexpected utterance Jean had no words of answer ready, but +his look was a sufficiently eloquent refutation. He took a few eager +steps toward her; then, reading inhibition in the sudden gravity of her +mouth, he checked himself. +</P> + +<P> +"Day after to-morrow, about sundown," said he, "our Lady and St. Joseph +permitting, we will get her launched. The tide will be full then, and +we will run down with it, and pass the fort before moonrise. If the +wind's fair we will get out of the Basin and off to sea that same +night; but if it fails us there'll be tide enough to get us round the +Island and into a hidden anchorage in Hibert River. Then—a cargo of +Acadian beef and barley for Louisburg! And then—money! And then—and +then—you!" +</P> + +<P> +He looked at her with pleading and longing in his eyes, but with a +doggedness about his mouth which told of much pain endured and a +determination which might bide its time, indeed, but would not be +balked. The look of the mouth she was conscious of, deep down in her +heart, and she in reality rested upon it; but it was the look in his +eyes which she answered. She answered it lightly. A mocking smile +played about the corners of her lips and her eyes sparkled upon him +whimsically. The look both repulsed and invited him; and he hung for +some moments, as it were, trembling midway between the promise and the +denial. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't be too sure of—me!" she said at last. And his face fell—not +so much at the words themselves as at their discouraging accent. +</P> + +<P> +"But," he protested, "it is all planned, all done, just for you, Barbe. +There is nothing in it at all, except you. It is all you. That is +understood between us from the first, and all the time." +</P> + +<P> +Still her mouth mocked him; and still her eyes gleamed upon him with +their enigmatic light. +</P> + +<P> +"You will have your beautiful little ship," she said slowly. "You will +have wonderful adventures—and little time to think of me at all. You +will make a wonderful deal of money. You will make your name famous +and hated among these English. I am expecting you to do great things. +But as for me—I am not won yet, Jean." +</P> + +<P> +His eyes glowed upon her, and the lines of his face set themselves with +a sudden masterfulness. He gave a little, soft laugh. +</P> + +<P> +"You are mine! You will be my wife before I make my second voyage." +</P> + +<P> +"If you believe that, you ought to be a very happy man," she retorted, +and her smile softened almost imperceptibly as she said it. "You don't +look quite as happy as you ought to, Jean!" +</P> + +<P> +"<I>Don't</I> make me wait for my second voyage! Let me take you away from +this unhappy country. Come with me—come with me now!" +</P> + +<P> +He spoke swiftly, his voice thick with the sudden outburst of passion +long held in check; and he strode forward to catch her in his arms. +</P> + +<P> +Instantaneous as a darting bird, or a flash of light on a wave, she was +up from her resting-place and away behind the pile of grass and ferns. +</P> + +<P> +"Stay there!" she commanded, "or I'll go home at once!" And Jean +stayed. +</P> + +<P> +She laughed at him gayly, mercilessly. +</P> + +<P> +"Would you have me take you on trust, Jean?" she questioned, with her +head on one side. "How do I know that you are going to be brave enough +to fight the English, or clever enough to outwit them? How do I know +you will really do the great things I'm expecting of you? I know your +dreams are fine, Boy; but you must show me deeds." +</P> + +<P> +"I will," he answered quietly. "Come here, Sweet, just for one minute!" +</P> + +<P> +"No," she said with a very positive shake of her small head. "You must +go on with your work. You have more to do yet than you realize. And +<I>I've</I> something to do, too. I must go home at once." +</P> + +<P> +"That's not fair, Barbe!" he pleaded. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't care! It is good for you. No, don't come one step with me. +Not one step. Go on with your work. I'm going to fly." +</P> + +<P> +She ran lightly across the chips, at a safe distance from Jean's +outstretched arms, and turned into the trail among the maples. There +she paused, gave her lover one melting, caressing, but still +half-mocking glance, and cried to him: +</P> + +<P> +"I am making a flag for 'Mon Rêve,' and it's not <I>nearly</I> done yet, +Jean." +</P> + +<P> +Then she disappeared among the bright branches. +</P> + +<P> +With a tumult in his heart Jean turned back to his ladder and +paint-pot. Little twinges of angry disappointment ran along his +nerves, only to be smothered straightway in a flood of passionate +tenderness. +</P> + +<P> +"Next voyage, anyway!" he muttered to himself as he worked feverishly. +"I couldn't <I>live</I> longer than that without her!" And he went over and +over in his imagination every detail of the girl's appearance, the +changing moods of her radiant dark face, her hair, her hands, the tones +of her voice. +</P> + +<P> +Along the trail through the autumn maples, meanwhile Mademoiselle Barbe +was speeding on light feet. The little smile was gone from the corners +of her mouth, and into her eyes, now that Jean could no longer see +them, was come a great gentleness. Her mockery, her impatience, her +picturesque asperity were a kind of game which she played with herself, +to disguise, sometimes even from herself, the greatness and the +oversensitiveness of her heart. At this moment she was feeling sore at +the nearness of Jean's departure, and was conscious of the pressure of +his will urging her to go with him. This she was resolved she would +not do; but she was equally resolved that her flag should be ready and +go in her place. As for the next voyage—well, she thought to herself +that Jean might persuade her by that time, if he tried hard. As to his +success she had not really a grain of doubt. She knew well enough the +quality of his fibre. Her light feet, as she hurried, made hardly a +sound upon the soft mould of the trail, which was half-hidden by the +bright autumn carpeting of the leaves. But presently she heard the +noise of heavier footfalls approaching. Just ahead of her the trail +turned sharply. Peering through the tangle of branches and thinned +leafage, she caught glimpses of something that caused her face to grow +pale, her heart to throb up into her throat; and she stepped behind the +thick shelter of a fir bush to consider what was to be done. +</P> + +<P> +The sight that so disturbed her was in itself no terrible one. A tall, +ruddy-faced, keen-eyed man, carelessly dressed, but of erect, military +bearing, came striding up the trail, a gun over his arm, a brown dog at +his heels. Barbe recognized him at once—the English officer in +command of the fort at Annapolis. She saw that he was out for +partridges—but she saw, also, that he was walking at a pace that would +speedily devour the scant two miles that divided him from the shipyard +of "Mon Rêve." It was evident that he had forgotten his shooting in +his interest in this unknown trail upon which he had stumbled. If he +went on the game was up for Jean's little ship! +</P> + +<P> +She resolved that he should not go on. It took her just five seconds +to decide the whole question. There was a large fallen tree close +beside the trail, two or three paces from where she hid. Over this she +threw herself discreetly, with a little choking scream, and lay moaning +among the leaves beside it. +</P> + +<P> +The Englishman darted forward and was at her side in a moment, bending +over her with a mingling of alarm and admiration in his gray eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"Mademoiselle," he cried, "what has happened? Are you much hurt?" +</P> + +<P> +Receiving no answer, but more faint moans, he lifted her gently and +stood her on her feet; but the instant he released her she collapsed +upon the leaves, an appealing but intoxicating confusion of skirts, and +slim brown hands, and crinkly dark hair, and the corner of a red mouth, +and the glimpse of an ankle. +</P> + +<P> +"Mademoiselle! Tell me what is the matter. Tell me what can I do. +Let me do something, I beg of you!" Lifting her again, he seated her +beside him on the fallen tree; and this time he did not at once release +her. At first, her eyes closed and her face a little drawn as with +pain, she clung instinctively to his arm, with hands that seemed to him +the most maddening that he had ever seen. Then, after several minutes +which were very agreeable to him in spite of his anxiety, she appeared +to pull herself together with a mighty effort. She moved away from his +clasp, sat up straight, and opened upon him great eyes of pain and +gratitude. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, thank you Monsieur!" she said simply. "I'm afraid I have been +very troublesome. But, indeed, I thought I was going to die." +</P> + +<P> +"But what is the matter, Mademoiselle? Tell me, and let me help you." +</P> + +<P> +She sat cringing and setting her teeth hard. He noticed how white were +the teeth, how scarlet the full lips. +</P> + +<P> +"It is just my heart," she said. "I was looking through the bushes to +see who was coming. Something startled me, I think; and the pain +clutched at my heart so I could not breathe, and I fell off." +</P> + +<P> +She paused, to moan a little softly and catch her breath. Before he +could say anything she went on: +</P> + +<P> +"It's better now, but it hurts horribly." +</P> + +<P> +"Let me support you, Mademoiselle," he urged with eager courtesy. +</P> + +<P> +But she shrank away from the approaching ministration. +</P> + +<P> +"No, Monsieur, I am better, really. But I must get home as quick as I +can." She rose unsteadily. +</P> + +<P> +The Englishman arose at the same time. The next moment Barbe sank back +again, biting her lips to keep back a cry. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh," she gasped, "I can't stand it! How can I get home?" +</P> + +<P> +"You must let me see you home, Mademoiselle," said the officer, +authority blending with palpable enthusiasm in his tones. +</P> + +<P> +"You are so good, Monsieur," she murmured gratefully. "But I could not +think of taking you away back so far, almost to the village. It will +spoil your afternoon's sport." +</P> + +<P> +The sympathy of the Englishman's face gave way to amusement, and he +hastened to assure her of her mistake. +</P> + +<P> +"Not at all, indeed, Mademoiselle. It will be quite as much my +pleasure as my duty to see you safely home. Your misfortune—if not +too serious—is my great good fortune!" +</P> + +<P> +Thanking him with a look, Barbe arose weakly and took the proffered +arm. At first the homeward journey was very slow; but as the afternoon +deepened, and the miles gathered between the English commandant and +Jean's little ship, the girl began to let herself recover. By this +time she felt that there was no danger of her escort leaving her one +minute before he was obliged to; and she knew that now, for this night, +the ship was safe. At last, as they emerged from the woods into a high +pasture-ground, behind the cottage where Barbe lived with her aunt and +uncle, the Englishman threw off the gallant for a moment and became the +wide-awake officer. He paused, took his bearings carefully, and +scrutinized the trail behind him with searching eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"I have not seen this road before, Mademoiselle," he marked, "and it +interests me. It is not down on our map of the Annapolis district. +Whither does it lead, may I ask?" +</P> + +<P> +Barbe's heart grew faint within her; but she answered lightly, with a +look that somehow conveyed to him the impression that he should not be +interested in roads when she was by. +</P> + +<P> +"They haul wood over it, my uncle and his neighbors, in the winter," +she answered, "and black mud in summer from the swamp back there." +</P> + +<P> +The Englishman appeared satisfied; but she felt that his curiosity was +aroused, and with all her arts she strove to divert his thoughts +exclusively to herself. She succeeded in this to a degree that +presently began to stir her apprehensiveness, and at her doorway she +made her grateful farewells a trifle hurried. But the Englishman would +listen to nothing more discouraging than au revoir. At last he said: +</P> + +<P> +"I shall be shooting over these woods again to-morrow"—Barbe clutched +hard upon the latch and held her breath—"and shall give myself the +pleasure of calling to ask after—but no!" he corrected himself. "You +are making me forget, Mademoiselle. I have a council-meeting to fill +my day with drudgery to-morrow." (Barbe breathed again at this +respite.) "I must deny myself till the day after. I may call then, +may I not?" +</P> + +<P> +There was a moment's pause, and in that moment the girl's swift brain +made its decision. +</P> + +<P> +"Certainly, Monsieur le Commandant," she said, sweeping his face with a +brilliant glance that made his nerves tingle sweetly; "I shall be much +honored. My aunt and I will be much honored!" And with a curtsy half +mocking, half formal, and a disastrous curving of her scarlet lips, she +slipped into the house. +</P> + +<P> +"By—Jove!" muttered the Englishman, as he strode away in a daze. +</P> + +<P> +From the window, behind the bean vines, Barbe watched him go. The +instant he was out of sight she darted from the door, sped swiftly over +the rough pasture-lot, and disappeared among the twilights of the +trail, where the afternoon shadows were already darkening to purple. +She ran with the endurance of health and practice and a clean-breathing +outdoor life; but presently her breath began to fail, her heart to +thump madly against her slim sides. Then—around a bend of the trail +came Jean, returning earlier than his wont. With an exclamation of +glad surprise he sprang forward to meet her. Still more was his +surprise when she caught him by the shoulders with both hands and +leaned, gasping and sobbing, against his breast. +</P> + +<P> +After one fierce clasp he held her lightly and tenderly like a child, +and anxiously scanned her face. +</P> + +<P> +"What is it, Barbe, beloved? What is the matter?" he questioned +eagerly. +</P> + +<P> +"The ship," she panted, "must go! You must go—<I>to-morrow</I> night!" +</P> + +<P> +"Why? But it is impossible!" he protested, bewildered. "Mich' won't +be here till the day after—and one man can't launch her, and can't +sail her all by himself." +</P> + +<P> +"I tell you it must be done," she cried imperiously. "You must, you +must!" And then, in a few edged words, she explained the situation. +"If you can't, all is lost," she concluded, "for they will discover +you, and seize the ship, the day after to-morrow. Jean, I would never +believe that you had any such word as 'can't.'" +</P> + +<P> +By this time Jean's face was white and his jaw was set. +</P> + +<P> +"Of course," he said quietly, "it will be done somehow. I'm not beaten +till I'm dead. But the chances are, Sweet, that after I get the little +ship launched I'll run her aground somewhere down the river, and be +caught next day like a rat in a barrel. It's ticklish navigating at +best, down the river, and one man can't rightly manage even the +foresail alone, and steer, in those eddies and twists in the channel. +But—" +</P> + +<P> +"But, Jean—" she interrupted, and then paused, leaning close against +him, and looking up at him with eyes that seemed to him to make a +brightness in the dark. +</P> + +<P> +"But what, beautiful one?" he questioned, leaning his face over her, +and growing suddenly tremulous with a vague, wonderful expectancy. +</P> + +<P> +"I can help! Take me!" And she hid her eyes against his rough +shirt-sleeve. +</P> + +<P> +For one moment Jean stood tense, moveless, unable to apprehend this +sudden realization of his dreams. Then he swung her light figure up +into his arms, and covered her face and hair with kisses. With a +little smile of content upon her lips she suffered his madness for a +while. Then she made him put her down. +</P> + +<P> +"There is no time now to make love to me," she said. "We've so much to +do and plan. You've never run away with a ship and a girl before, +Jean, and we must make sure you know just how to go about it." +</P> + +<P> +That night Barbe snatched a few hours of sleep, being mindful of the +witchery of her eyes. But Jean toiled all night long, driving his yoke +of oxen to and fro between his cabin and his shipyard in the forest. +And he was not weary. His heart was light as air and sang with every +pulse. His strength and his star—he felt them equal to any crisis. +</P> + +<P> +On the following afternoon, when it wanted yet an hour of high tide, +and the shadows of the maples were beginning to creep over the yellow +chips, all was ready. Full of a wild gayety, and untiring as a boy, +Barbe had worked all day, getting the sails bent, the stores on board, +the last of block and tackle into place. Suddenly, from a post of +vantage in the high-pointing bowsprit, she looked down the trail and +clapped her brown hands with a shout of delight. +</P> + +<P> +"Mich' has come!" she cried. And Mich' Masson, striding into the open, +threw down a big red bundle on the chips. +</P> + +<P> +"Pretty nigh ready?" he inquired. "Why, what is the matter, <I>mon +gar'</I>?" +</P> + +<P> +Jean's face had fallen like his heart. There was no longer any +necessity of Barbe's sharing his adventure. But he hurried forward and +clasped his friend's hand. +</P> + +<P> +"We've got to get away to-night," he stammered, struggling bravely to +make his voice sound cheerful. "The English are coming over here +to-morrow to find out what's going on—so it's time for us to be going +off! Barbe was to help me through with it." +</P> + +<P> +Mich' held to Jean's hand, and glanced questioningly from his troubled +face to the girl's teasing one. But Barbe had burned her bridges and +saw no reason to be unmerciful. +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose I'll have to be just crew and cabin-boy now, Mich'," she +pouted. "Jean was going to let me be first mate, and there wasn't to +be any crew." +</P> + +<P> +A great joy broke over Jean's face, and Mich' removed his gray woolen +cap with a sweeping bow. But before either could reply there came from +a little way up the trail the excited yapping as of a dog that has +treed a partridge. The three looked at each other, their eyes wide +with apprehension. Then the report of a gun. +</P> + +<P> +"The Englishman!" gasped Barbe. "He has not waited. Quick, hide, one +each side of the trail, and take him prisoner. Don't shoot him. He +was kind to me." +</P> + +<P> +Jean snatched up his musket and the two men darted into the bush. By a +rope from the bulwarks Barbe swung herself lightly to the ground. In +haste she crossed the chip-strewn open, and then, carelessly swinging +her hat in her hand, and singing a fitful snatch of song, she sauntered +up the trail to meet the intruder. +</P> + +<P> +The trail wound rapidly, so that before she had gone two-score paces +the ship was hid from her view. A few steps more and the Englishman +came in sight, swinging forward alertly, a fluff of brown feathers +dangling from his right hand. He was face to face with Barbe; and the +delighted astonishment that came into his eyes was dashed with a faint +chill of suspicion. +</P> + +<P> +"How fate favors me, Mademoiselle!" he exclaimed, doffing his cap. +"Gad, you are a brave girl to wander so far into the woods alone!" +</P> + +<P> +"No, Monsieur, fate does not favor you," retorted Barbe with a sort of +intimate petulance, holding out her brown fingers. "You had no +business coming to-day when you said you were not coming till +to-morrow. Now, you are going to find out a secret of mine which I +didn't want any one to find out." +</P> + +<P> +"But you are not angry at seeing me," he protested. +</P> + +<P> +"N-n-o-o!" she answered, her head upon one side in doubt, while she +bewildered him with her eyes. "But I'm sorry in a way! Well, come and +I'll show you. Forgive me for lying to you yesterday about this road!" +</P> + +<P> +And she turned to accompany him, walking very close to his side, so +that her slim shoulder touched his arm and blurred his sagacity. The +next instant came the sharp order: "Halt! Don't stir, or you're dead!" +</P> + +<P> +The Englishman found himself facing two leveled muskets. At the same +moment his own weapon went flying into the underbrush, twitched from +his hold by a dexterous catch of Barbe's fingers. +</P> + +<P> +He stood still and very straight, his arms at his sides, eying his +assailants steadily. His first impulse was to dart upon them with his +naked hands; but he saw the well-knit form of Jean, almost his own +height, the lean, set face, a certain exultation in the eyes which he +read aright; and he saw the shrewd, dark, confident look of Mich', the +experienced master of situations. The red mounted slowly to his face, +and he turned upon Barbe a look wherein reproach at once gave way to +scorn and a kind of shame. +</P> + +<P> +Barbe herself flushed under that look. +</P> + +<P> +"You wrong me, Monsieur!" she cried impetuously. "I did it to save +you. You are a brave man, and would have tried to fight, and they +would have killed you!" +</P> + +<P> +He bowed stiffly and turned to the men. +</P> + +<P> +"What do you want of me?" +</P> + +<P> +"Your parole!" said Jean. "Give us your word that you will come with +us quietly, making no resistance and no effort to escape." The +Englishman shut his lips doggedly. +</P> + +<P> +"Then you must be bound," said Mich' with curt decision. "We've no +time to waste." +</P> + +<P> +"Let <I>me</I> bind you, Monsieur," said Barbe, taking his wrists gently and +putting them behind his back. "It is no dishonor to be captive to a +woman." +</P> + +<P> +With a silk scarf from her waist, and a feminine cunning in knots, she +quickly tied his hands together so that he felt himself quite hopeless +of escape. Then, in a cold wrath, he was led forward; with no +constraint but Barbe's touch upon his arm. The ship, high on her +stocks, came into view. And he understood. +</P> + +<P> +Seating himself upon a log, with his back against a tree, Mich' passed +a rope about his waist and made him fast to the trunk. There he sat +and chewed his indignation, while his captors went in haste about their +work. But presently he grew interested. He saw the blocks knocked out +from under the little ship's sides, so that she came down upon the +greased ways and slid smoothly into the flood. He saw her checked +gradually by a rope turned once around a tree trunk, so that she was +kept from running aground on the opposite side of the Basin. He saw a +small boat dragged down from the bushes to the edge of the tide, and +oars put into it. By this time he had revolved many aspects of the +case in his mind. Then came to him Barbe and Jean. +</P> + +<P> +"Monsieur," said Jean, "I regret to have inconvenienced you in this +way. But you would without mercy have wrecked all my hopes. I have +put all my means into this little ship, built with my own hands. My +heart is set on removing from the land of Acadie, to live once more +under my own flag of France. But I do not wish to take you a prisoner +to Louisburg, or to put you to any further annoyance. To Mademoiselle +Dieudonné you showed yourself yesterday a most kind and courteous +gentleman. All Acadie knows you are brave. Give me your word that you +will in no way seek to stop or hinder our departure, and let me set you +free!" +</P> + +<P> +"Give your parole, Monsieur!" begged Barbe, "or you will have to devote +yourself to entertaining me all the way to Louisburg." +</P> + +<P> +The Englishman's face brightened. +</P> + +<P> +"Almost you make me wish to go to Louisburg, Mademoiselle. With the +duty you apportion me I should be much happier, I assure you, than here +in Annapolis trying to govern your good fellow-countrymen. But I will +give my parole. I promise you, sir," and he turned his face to Jean, +"that I will not in any way interfere with the departure of you and +your ship from Acadie." +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you," said Jean, and he undid the rope and the scarf. +</P> + +<P> +The Englishman arose, walked down to the waterside with Barbe, and with +elaborate courtesy helped her into the boat. He bent his lips over her +hand as he said good-by. +</P> + +<P> +Turning upon him then a laughing face of farewell, Barbe cried: "Never, +never will I pardon you, Monsieur, for consenting to give your parole!" +</P> + +<P> +"Mademoiselle," he answered, "I am your prisoner still, and always." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap19"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THOSE OLD LUNES! OR, WHICH IS THE MADMAN? +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +By W. GILMORE SIMMS +</H4> + +<P CLASS="intro"> +"I am but mad north-north-west: when the wind is southerly I know a +hawk from a handsaw."—<I>Hamlet</I>. +</P> + +<BR> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER I +</H4> + +<P> +We had spent a merry night of it. Our stars had paled their not +ineffectual fires, only in the daylight; and while Dan Phoebus was yet +rising, "jocund on the misty mountain tops," I was busy in adjusting my +foot in the stirrup and mounting my good steed Priam, to find my way by +a close cut, and through narrow Indian trails, to my lodgings in the +little town of C——, on the very borders of Mississippi. There were a +dozen of us, all merry larks, half mad with wine and laughter, and the +ride of seven miles proved a short one. In less than two hours, I was +snugly snoozing in my own sheets, and dreaming of the twin daughters of +old Hansford Owens. +</P> + +<P> +Well might one dream of such precious damsels. Verily, they seemed, +all of a sudden, to have become a part of my existence. They filled my +thoughts, excited my imagination, and,—if it be not an impertinence to +say any thing of the heart of a roving lad of eighteen,—then were they +at the very bottom of mine.—Both of them, let me say,—for they were +twins, and were endowed with equal rights by nature. I was not yet +prepared to say what was the difference, if any, between their claims. +One was fair, the other brown; one pensive, the other merry as the +cricket of Venus. Susannah was meek as became an Elder's daughter; +Emmeline so mischievous that she might well have worried the meekest of +the saints in the calendar from his propriety and position. I confess, +though I thought constantly of Susannah, I always looked after Emmeline +the first. She was the brunette—one of your flashing, sparkling, +effervescing beauties,—perpetually running over with +exultation—brimful of passionate fancies that tripped, on tiptoe, half +winged, through her thoughts. She was a creature to make your blood +bound in your bosom,—to take you entirely off your feet, and fancy, +for the moment, that your heels are quite as much entitled to dominion +as your head. Lovely too,—brilliant, if not absolutely perfect in +features—she kept you always in a sort of sunlight. She sung well, +talked well, danced well—was always in air—seemed never herself to +lack repose, and, it must be confessed, seldom suffered it to any body +else. Her dancing was the crowning grace and glory. She was no +Taglioni—not an Ellsler—I do not pretend that. But she was a born +artiste. Every motion was a study. Every look was life. Her form +subsided into the sweetest luxuriance of attitude, and rose into motion +with some such exquisite buoyancy, as would become Venus issuing from +the foam. Her very affectations were so naturally worn, that you at +length looked for them as essential to her charm. I confess—but no! +Why should I do anything so foolish? +</P> + +<P> +Susannah was a very different creature. She was a fair girl—rather +pale, perhaps, when her features were in repose. She had rich soft +flaxen hair, and dark blue eyes. She looked rather than spoke. Her +words were few, her glances many. She was not necessarily silent in +silence. On the contrary, her very silence had frequently a +significance, taken with her looks, that needed no help from speech. +She seemed to look through you at a glance, yet there was a liquid +sweetness in her gaze, that disarmed it of all annoyance. If Emmeline +was the glory of the sunlight—Susannah was the sovereign of the shade. +If the song of the one filled you with exultation, that of the other +awakened all your tenderness. If Emmeline was the creature for the +dance,—Susannah was the wooing, beguiling Egeria, who could snatch you +from yourself in the moments of respite and repose. For my part, I +felt that I could spend all my mornings with the former, and all my +evenings with the latter. Susannah with her large, blue, tearful eyes, +and few, murmuring and always gentle accents, shone out upon me at +nightfall as that last star that watches in the vault of night for the +coming of the sapphire dawn. +</P> + +<P> +So much for the damsels. And all these fancies, not to say feelings, +were the fruit of but three short days' acquaintance with their +objects. But these were days when thoughts travel merrily and +fast—when all that concerns the fancies and the affections, are caught +up in a moment, as if the mind were nothing but a congeries of +instincts, and the sensibilities, with a thousand delicate antennae, +were ever on the grasp for prey. +</P> + +<P> +Squire Owens was a planter of tolerable condition. He was a widower, +with these two lovely and lovable daughters—no more. But, bless you! +Mine was no calculating heart. Very far from it. Neither the wealth +of the father, nor the beauty of the girls, had yet prompted me to +think of marriage. Life was pleasant enough as it was. Why burden it? +Let well enough alone, say I. I had no wish to be happier. A wife +never entered my thoughts. What might have come of being often with +such damsels, there's no telling; but just then it was quite enough to +dance with Emmeline, and muse with Susannah, and—<I>vive la bagatelle</I>! +</P> + +<P> +I need say nothing more of my dreams, since the reader sufficiently +knows the subject. I slept late that day, and only rose in time for +dinner, which, in that almost primitive region, took place at 12 +o'clock, M. I had no appetite. A herring and soda water might have +sufficed, but these were matters foreign to the manor. I endured the +day and headache together, as well as I could, slept soundly that +night, with now the most ravishing fancies of Emmeline, and now the +pleasant dreams of Susannah, one or other of whom still usurped the +place of a bright particular star in my most capacious fancy. Truth +is, in those heyday days, my innocent heart never saw any terrors in +polygamy. I rose a new man, refreshed and very eager for a start. I +barely swallowed breakfast when Priam was at the door. While I was +about to mount, with thoughts filled with the meek beauties of +Susannah,—I was arrested by the approach of no less a person than +Ephraim Strong, the village blacksmith. +</P> + +<P> +"You're guine to ride, I see." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +"To Squire Owens, I reckon." +</P> + +<P> +"Right." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, keep a sharp look out on the road, for there's news come down +that the famous Archy Dargan has broke Hamilton jail." +</P> + +<P> +"And who's Archy Dargan?" +</P> + +<P> +"What! don't know Archy? Why, he's the madman that's been shut up +there, it's now guine on two years." +</P> + +<P> +"A madman, eh?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, and a mighty sevagerous one at that. He's the cunningest white +man going. Talks like a book, and knows how to get out of a +scrape,—is jest as sensible as any man for a time, but, sudden, he +takes a start, like a shying horse, and before you knows where you are, +his heels are in your jaw. Once he blazes out, it's knife or gun, +hatchet or hickory—any thing he can lay hands on. He's killed two men +already, and cut another's throat a'most to killing. He's an ugly chap +to meet on the road, so look out right and left." +</P> + +<P> +"What sort of man is he?" +</P> + +<P> +"In looks?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes!" +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I reckon, he's about your heft. He's young and tallish, with a +fair skin, brown hair, and a mighty quick keen blue eye, that never +looks steadily nowhere. Look sharp for him. The sheriff with his +'spose-you-come-and-take-us'—is out after him, but he's mighty cute to +dodge, and had the start some twelve hours afore they missed him." +</P> + +<BR> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER II +</H4> + +<P> +The information thus received did not disquiet me. After the momentary +reflection that it might be awkward to meet a madman, out of bounds, +upon the highway, I quickly dismissed the matter from my mind. I had +no room for any but pleasant meditations. The fair Susannah was now +uppermost in my dreaming fancies, and, reversing the grasp upon my +whip, the ivory handle of which, lined with an ounce or two of lead, +seemed to me a sufficiently effective weapon for the worst of dangers, +I bade my friendly blacksmith farewell, and dashed forward upon the +high road. A smart canter soon took me out of the settlement, and, +once in the woods, I recommended myself with all the happy facility of +youth, to its most pleasant and beguiling imaginings. I suppose I had +ridden a mile or more—the story of the bedlamite was gone utterly from +my thought—when a sudden turn in the road showed me a person, also +mounted, and coming towards me at an easy trot, some twenty-five or +thirty yards distant. There was nothing remarkable in his appearance. +He was a plain farmer or woodman, clothed in ample homespun, and riding +a short heavy chunk of an animal, that had just been taken from the +plough. The rider was a spare, long-legged person, probably thirty +years or thereabouts. He looked innocent enough, wearing that simple, +open-mouthed sort of countenance, the owner of which, we assume, at a +glance, will never set any neighbouring stream on fire. He belonged +evidently to a class as humble as he was simple,—but I had been +brought up in a school which taught me that the claims of poverty were +quite as urgent upon courtesy as those of wealth. Accordingly, as we +neared each other, I prepared to bestow upon him the usual civil +recognition of the highway. What is it Scott says—I am not sure that +I quote him rightly— +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"When men in distant forests meet,<BR> +They pass not as in peaceful street."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +And, with the best of good humour, I rounded my lips into a smile, and +got ready my salutation. To account somewhat for its effect when +uttered, I must premise that my own personal appearance, at this time, +was rather wild and impressive. My face was full of laughter and my +manners of buoyancy. My hair was very long, and fell in masses upon my +shoulder, unrestrained by the cap which I habitually wore, and which, +as I was riding under heavy shade trees, was grasped in my hand along +with my riding whip. As the stranger drew nigh, the arm was extended, +cap and whip lifted in air, and with free, generous lungs, I +shouted—"good morning, my friend,—how wags the world with you to-day?" +</P> + +<P> +The effect of this address was prodigious. The fellow gave no +answer,—not a word, not a syllable—not the slightest nod of the +head,—<I>mais, tout au contraire</I>. But for the dilating of his amazed +pupils, and the dropping of the lower jaw, his features might have been +chiselled out of stone. They wore an expression amounting to +consternation, and I could see that he caught up his bridle with +increased alertness, bent himself to the saddle, half drew up his +horse, and then, as if suddenly resolved, edged him off, as closely as +the woods would allow, to the opposite side of the road. The +undergrowth was too thick to allow of his going into the wood at the +spot where we encountered, or he certainly would have done so. +Somewhat surprised at this, I said something, I cannot now recollect +what, the effect of which was even more impressive upon him than my +former speech. The heads of our horses were now nearly parallel—the +road was an ordinary wagon track, say twelve feet wide—I could have +brushed him with my cap as we passed, and, waving it still aloft, he +seemed to fancy that such was my intention,—for, inclining his whole +body on the off side of his nag, as the Comanche does when his aim is +to send an arrow at his enemy beneath his neck—his heels thrown back, +though spurless, were made to belabour with the most surprising +rapidity the flanks of his drowsy animal. And, not without some +effect. The creature dashed first into a trot, then into a canter, and +finally into a gallop, which, as I was bound one way and he the other, +soon threw a considerable space between us. +</P> + +<P> +"The fellow's mad!" was my reflection and speech, as, wheeling my horse +half about, I could see him looking backward, and driving his heels +still into the sides of his reluctant hack. The next moment gave me a +solution of the matter. The simple countryman had heard of the +bedlamite from Hamilton jail. My bare head, the long hair flying in +the wind, my buoyancy of manner, and the hearty, and, perhaps, novel +form of salutation with which I addressed him, had satisfied him that I +was the person. As the thought struck me, I resolved to play the game +out, and, with a restless love of levity which has been too frequently +my error, I put the whip over my horse's neck, and sent him forward in +pursuit. My nag was a fine one, and very soon the space was lessened +between me and the chase. As he heard the footfalls behind, the +frightened fugitive redoubled his exertions. He laid himself to it, +his heels paddling in the sides of his donkey with redoubled industry. +And thus I kept him for a good mile, until the first houses of the +settlement grew visible in the distance. I then once more turned upon +the path to the Owens', laughing merrily at the rare chase, and the +undisguised consternation of the countryman. The story afforded ample +merriment to my fair friends Emmeline and Susannah. "It was so +ridiculous that one of my appearance should be taken for a madman. The +silly fellow deserved the scare." On these points we were all +perfectly agreed. That night we spent charmingly. The company did not +separate till near one o'clock. We had fun and fiddles. I danced by +turns with the twins, and more than once with a Miss Gridley, a very +pretty girl, who was present. Squire Owens was in the best of humours, +and, no ways loth, I was made to stay all night. +</P> + +<BR> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER III +</H4> + +<P> +A new day of delight dawned upon us with the next. Our breakfast made +a happy family picture, which I began to think it would be cruel to +interrupt. So snugly did I sit beside Emmeline, and so sweetly did +Susannah minister at the coffee urn, and so patriarchally did the old +man look around upon the circle, that my meditations were all in favour +of certain measures for perpetuating the scene. The chief difficulty +seemed to be, in the way of a choice between the sisters. +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"How happy could I be with either,<BR> +Were t'other dear charmer away."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +I turned now from one to the other, only to become more bewildered. +The lively glance and playful remark of Emmeline, her lovely, smiling +visage, and buoyant, unpremeditative air, were triumphant always while +I beheld them; but the pensive, earnest look of Susannah, the mellow +cadences of her tones, seemed always to sink into my soul, and were +certainly remembered longest. Present, Emmeline was irresistible; +absent, I thought chiefly of Susannah. Breakfast was fairly over +before I came to a decision. We adjourned to the parlour,—and there, +with Emmeline at the piano, and Susannah with her Coleridge in +hand—her favourite poet—I was quite as much distracted as before. +The bravura of the one swept me completely off my feet. And when I +pleaded with the other to read me the touching poem of +"Genevieve"—-her low, subdued and exquisitely modulated utterance, so +touching, so true to the plaintive and seductive sentiment, so +harmonious even when broken, so thrilling even when most checked and +hushed, was quite as little to be withstood. Like the ass betwixt two +bundles of hay, my eyes wandered from one to the other uncertain where +to fix. And thus passed the two first hours after breakfast. +</P> + +<P> +The third brought an acquisition to our party. We heard the trampling +of horses' feet in the court below, and all hurried to the windows, to +see the new comer. We had but a glimpse of him—a tall, good-looking +personage, about thirty years of age, with great whiskers, and a huge +military cloak. Squire Owens met him in the reception room, and they +remained some half hour or three quarters together. It was evidently a +business visit. The girls were all agog to know what it was about, and +I was mortified to think that Emmeline was now far less eager to +interest me than before. She now turned listlessly over the pages of +her music book, or strummed upon the keys of her piano, with the air of +one whose thoughts were elsewhere. Susannah did not seem so much +disturbed,—she still continued to draw my attention to the more +pleasing passages of the poet; but I could see, or I fancied, that even +she was somewhat curious as to the coming of the stranger. Her eyes +turned occasionally to the parlour door at the slightest approaching +sound, and she sometimes looked in my face with a vacant eye, when I +was making some of my most favourable points of conversation. +</P> + +<P> +At length there was a stir within, a buzz and the scraping of feet. +The door was thrown open, and, ushered by the father, the stranger made +his appearance. His air was rather <I>distingué</I>. His person was well +made, tall and symmetrical. His face was martial and expressive. His +complexion was of a rich dark brown; his eye was grey, large, and +restless—his hair thin, and dishevelled. His carriage was very erect; +his coat, which was rather seedy, was close buttoned to his chin. His +movements were quick and impetuous, and seemed to obey the slightest +sound, whether of his own, or of the voices of others. He approached +the company with the manner of an old acquaintance; certainly, with +that of a man who had always been conversant with the best society. +His ease was unobtrusive,—a polite deference invariably distinguishing +his deportment whenever he had occasion to address the ladies. Still, +he spoke as one having authority. There was a lordly something in his +tones,—an emphatic assurance in his gesture,—that seemed to settle +every question; and, after a little while, I found that, hereafter, if +I played on any fiddle at all, in that presence, it was certainly not +to be the first. Emmeline and Susannah had ears for me no longer. +There was a something of impatience in the manner of the former +whenever I spoke as if I had only interrupted much pleasanter sounds; +and, even Susannah, the meek Susannah, put down her Coleridge upon a +stool, and seemed all attention, only for the imposing stranger. +</P> + +<P> +The effect upon the old man was scarcely less agreeable. Col. +Nelson,—so was the stranger called—had come to see about the purchase +of his upper mill-house tract—a body of land containing some four +thousand acres, the sale of which was absolutely necessary to relieve +him from certain incumbrances. From the conversation which he had +already had with his visitor, it appeared that the preliminaries would +be of easy adjustment, and Squire Owens was in the best of all possible +humours. It was nothing but Col. Nelson,—Col. Nelson. The girls did +not seem to need this influence, though they evidently perceived it; +and, in the course of the first half hour after his introduction, I +felt myself rapidly becoming de trop. The stranger spoke in passionate +bursts,—at first in low tones,—with halting, hesitating manner, then, +as if the idea were fairly grasped, he dilated into a torrent of +utterance, his voice rising with his thought, until he started from his +chair and confronted the listener. I cannot deny that there was a +richness in his language, a warmth and colour in his thought, which +fascinated while it startled me. It was only when he had fairly ended +that one began to ask what had been the provocation to so much warmth, +and whether the thought to which we had listened was legitimately the +growth of previous suggestions. But I was in no mood to listen to the +stranger, or to analyze what he said. I found my situation quite too +mortifying—a mortification which was not lessened, when I perceived +that neither of the two damsels said a word against my proposed +departure. Had they shown but the slightest solicitude, I might have +been reconciled to my temporary obscuration. But no! they suffered me +to rise and declare my purpose, and made no sign. A cold courtesy from +them, and a stately and polite bow from Col. Nelson, acknowledged my +parting salutation, and Squire Owens attended me to the threshold, and +lingered with me till my horse was got in readiness. As I dashed +through the gateway, I could hear the rich voice of Emmeline swelling +exultingly with the tones of her piano, and my fancy presented me with +the images of Col. Nelson, hanging over her on one hand, while the meek +Susannah on the other, was casting those oblique glances upon him which +had so frequently been addressed to me. "Ah! pestilent jades," I +exclaimed in the bitterness of a boyish heart; "this then is the love +of woman." +</P> + +<BR> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER IV +</H4> + +<P> +Chewing such bitter cud as this, I had probably ridden a good mile, +when suddenly I heard the sound of human voices, and looking up, +discovered three men, mounted, and just in front of me. They had +hauled up, and were seemingly awaiting my approach. A buzzing +conversation was going on among them. "That's he!" said one. "Sure?" +was the question of another. A whistle at my very side caused me to +turn my head, and as I did so, my horse was caught by the bridle, and I +received a severe blow from a club above my ears, which brought me +down, almost unconscious, upon the ground. In an instant, two stout +fellows were upon me, and busy in the praiseworthy toil of roping me, +hands and feet, where I lay. Hurt, stung, and utterly confounded by +the surprise, I was not prepared to suffer this indignity with +patience. I made manful struggle, and for a moment succeeded in +shaking off both assailants. But another blow, taking effect upon my +temples, and dealt with no moderate appliance of hickory, left me +insensible. When I recovered consciousness, I found myself in a cart, +my hands tied behind me, my head bandaged with a red cotton +handkerchief, and my breast and arms covered with blood. A stout +fellow rode beside me in the cart, while another drove, and on each +side of the vehicle trotted a man, well armed with a double-barrelled +gun. +</P> + +<P> +"What does all this mean?" I demanded. "Why am I here? Why this +assault? What do you mean to do with me?" +</P> + +<P> +"Don't be obstropolous," said one of the men. "We don't mean to hurt +you; only put you safe. We had to tap you on the head a little, for +your own good." +</P> + +<P> +"Indeed!" I exclaimed, the feeling of that unhappy tapping upon the +head, making me only the sorer at every moment—"but will you tell me +what this is for, and in what respect did my good require that my head +should be broken?" +</P> + +<P> +"It might have been worse for you, where you was onbeknown," replied +the spokesman,—"but we knowd your situation, and sarved you off +easily. Be quiet now, and——" +</P> + +<P> +"What do you mean—what is my situation?" +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I reckon we know. Only you be quiet, or we'll have to give you +the skin." +</P> + +<P> +And he held aloft a huge wagon whip as he spoke. I had sufficient +proof already of the unscrupulousness with which my companions acted, +not to be very chary of giving them farther provocation, and, in silent +misgiving, I turned my head to the opposite side of the vehicle. The +first glance in this quarter revealed to me the true history of my +disaster, and furnished an ample solution of the whole mystery. Who +should I behold but the very fellow whom I had chased into town the day +before. The truth was now apparent. I had been captured as the stray +bedlamite from Hamilton jail. It was because of this that I had been +"tapped on the head—only for my own good." As the conjecture flashed +upon me, I could not avoid laughter, particularly as I beheld the still +doubtful and apprehensive visage of the man beside me. My laughter had +a very annoying effect upon all parties. It was a more fearful sign +than my anger might have been. The fellow whom I had scared, edged a +little farther from the cart, and the man who had played spokesman, and +upon whom the whole business seemed to have devolved, now shook his +whip again—"None of that, my lad," said he, "or I'll have to bruise +you again. Don't be obstropolous." +</P> + +<P> +"You've taken me up for a madman, have you?" said I. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I reckon you ought to know what you are. There's no disputing +it." +</P> + +<P> +"And this silly fellow has made you believe it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Reckon!" +</P> + +<P> +"You've made a great mistake." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't think it." +</P> + +<P> +"But you have: Only take me to C——, and I'll prove it by General +Cocke, himself, or Squire Humphries, or any body in the town." +</P> + +<P> +"No! no! my friend,—that cock won't fight. We aint misdoubting at +all, but you're the right man. You answer all the descriptions, and +Jake Sturgis here, has made his affidavy that you chased him, neck and +neck, as mad as any blind puppy in a dry September, for an hour by sun +yesterday. We don't want no more proof." +</P> + +<P> +"And where do you mean to carry me?" I enquired, with all the coolness +I was master of. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, we'll put you up in a pen we've got a small piece from here; and +when the sheriff comes, he'll take you back to your old quarters at +Hamilton jail, where I reckon they'll fix you a little tighter than +they had you before. We've sent after the sheriff, and his +'spose-you-come-and-take-us,' and I reckon they'll be here about +sun-down." +</P> + +<BR> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER V +</H4> + +<P> +Here was a "situation" indeed. Burning with indignation, I was yet +sufficiently master of myself to see that any ebullition of rage on my +part, would only confirm the impression which they had received of my +insanity. I said little, therefore, and that little was confined to an +attempt to explain the chase of yesterday, which Jake Sturgis had made +the subject of such a mischievous "affidavy." But as I could not do +this without laughter, I incurred the danger of the whip. My laugh was +ominous,—Jake edged off once more to the roadside; the man beside me, +got his bludgeon in readiness, and the potent wagon whip of the leader +of the party was uplifted in threatening significance. Laughter was +clearly out of the question, and it naturally ceased on my part, as I +got in sight of the "pen" in which I was to be kept secure. This +structure is one well known to the less civilized regions of the +country. It is a common place of safe-keeping in the absence of jail +and proper officers. It is called technically a "bull pen," and +consists of huge logs, roughly put together, crossing at right angles, +forming a hollow square,—the logs too massy to be removed, and the +structure too high to be climbed, particularly if the prisoner should +happen to be, like myself, fairly tied up hand and foot together. I +relucted terribly at being put into this place. I pleaded urgently, +struggled fiercely, and was thrust in neck and heels without remorse; +and, in sheer hopelessness and vexation, I lay with my face prone to +the earth, and half buried among the leaves, weeping, I shame to +confess it, the bitter tears of impotence and mortification. +</P> + +<P> +Meantime, the news of my capture went through the country;—not <I>my</I> +capture, mark me, but that of the famous madman, Archy Dargan, who had +broke Hamilton jail. This was an event, and visitors began to collect. +My captors, who kept watch on the outside of my den, had their hands +full in answering questions. Man, woman and child, Squire and +ploughboy, and, finally, dames and damsels, accumulated around me, and +such a throng of eyes as pierced the crevices of my log dungeon, to see +the strange monster by whom they were threatened, now disarmed of his +terrors, were,—to use the language of one of my keepers—"a power to +calkilate." This was not the smallest part of my annoyance. The logs +were sufficiently far apart to suffer me to see and to be seen, and I +crouched closer to my rushes, and buried my face more thoroughly than +ever, if possible, to screen my dishonoured visage from their curious +scrutiny. This conduct mightily offended some of the visitors. +</P> + +<P> +"I can't see his face," said one. +</P> + +<P> +"Stir him with a long pole!"—and I was greatly in danger of being +treated as a surly bear, refusing to dance for his keeper; since one of +mine seemed very much disposed to gratify the spectator, and had +actually begun sharpening the end of a ten foot hickory, for the +purpose of pricking me into more sociableness. He was prevented from +carrying his generous design into effect by the suggestion of one of +his companions. "Better don't, Bosh; if ever he should git out agen, +he'd put his ear mark upon you." "Reckon you're right," was the reply +of the other, as he laid his rod out of sight. +</P> + +<P> +Meanwhile, the people came and went, each departing visitor sending +others. A couple of hours might have elapsed leaving me in this +humiliating situation, chained to the stake, the beast of a bear +garden, with fifty greedy and still dissatisfied eyes upon me. Of +these, fully one fourth were of the tender gender; some pitied me, some +laughed, and all congratulated themselves that I was safely laid by the +heels, incapable of farther mischief. It was not the most agreeable +part of their remarks, to find that they all universally agreed that I +was a most frightful looking object. Whether they saw my face or not, +they all discovered that I glared frightfully upon them, and I heard +one or two of them ask in under tones, "did you see his teeth—-how +sharp!" I gnashed them with a vengeance all the while, you may be sure. +</P> + +<BR> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VI +</H4> + +<P> +The last and worst humiliation was yet to come—that which put me for a +long season out of humour with all human and woman nature. Conscious +of an unusual degree of bustle without, I was suddenly startled by +sounds of a voice that had been once pleasingly familiar. It was that +of a female, a clear, soft, transparent sound, which, till this moment, +had never been associated in my thoughts with any thing but the most +perfect of all mortal melodies. It was now jangled harsh, like "sweet +bells out of tune." The voice was that of Emmeline. "Good heavens!" I +exclaimed to myself—"can she be here?" In another instant, I heard +that of Susannah—the meek Susannah,—she too was among the curious to +examine the features of the bedlamite, Archy Dargan. "Dear me," said +Emmeline, "is he in that place?" +</P> + +<P> +"What a horrid place!" said Susannah. +</P> + +<P> +"It's the very place for such a horrid creature," responded Emmeline. +</P> + +<P> +"Can't he get out, papa?" said Susannah. "Isn't a mad person very +strong?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh! don't frighten a body, Susannah, before we have had a peep," cried +Emmeline; "I declare I'm afraid to look—do, Col. Nelson, peep first +and see if there's no danger." And there was the confounded Col. +Nelson addressing his eyes to my person, and assuring his fair +companions, my Emmeline, my Susannah, that there was no sort of +danger,—that I was evidently in one of my fits of apathy. +</P> + +<P> +"The paroxysm is off for the moment, ladies,—and even if he were +violent, it is impossible that he should break through the pen. He +seems quite harmless—you may look with safety." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, he's mighty quiet now, Miss,"—said one of my keepers +encouragingly, "but it's all owing to a close sight of my whip. He was +a-guine to be obstropolous more than once, when I shook it over +him—he's usen to it, I reckon. You can always tell when the roaring +fit is coming on—for he breaks out in such a dreadful sort of +laughing." +</P> + +<P> +"Ha! Ha!—he laughs does he—Ha! Ha!" such was the somewhat wild +interruption offered by Col. Nelson himself. If my laugh produced such +an effect upon my keeper, his had a very disquieting effect upon me. +But, the instinctive conviction that Emmeline and Susannah were now +gazing upon me, prompted me with a sort of fascination, to lift my head +and look for them. I saw their eyes quite distinctly. Bright +treacheries! I could distinguish between them—and there were those of +Col. Nelson beside them—the three persons evidently in close +propinquity. +</P> + +<P> +"What a dreadful looking creature!" said Susannah. +</P> + +<P> +"Dreadful!" said Emmeline, "I see nothing so dreadful in him. He seems +tame enough. I'm sure, if that's a madman, I don't see why people +should be afraid of them." +</P> + +<P> +"Poor man, how bloody he is!" said Susannah. +</P> + +<P> +"We had to tap him, Miss, a leetle upon the head, to bring him quiet. +He's tame and innocent now, but you should see him when he's going to +break out. Only just hear him when he laughs." +</P> + +<P> +I could not resist the temptation. The last remark of my keeper fell +on my ears like a suggestion, and suddenly shooting up my head, and +glaring fiercely at the spectators, I gave them a yell of laughter as +terrible as I could possibly make it. +</P> + +<P> +"Ah!" was the shriek of Susannah, as she dashed back from the logs. +Before the sounds had well ceased, they were echoed from without and in +more fearful and natural style from the practised lungs of Col. Nelson. +His yells following mine, were enough to startle even me. +</P> + +<P> +"What!" he cried, thrusting his fingers through the crevice, "you would +come out, would you,—you would try your strength with mine. Let him +out,—let him out! I am ready for him, breast to breast, man against +man, tooth and nail, forever and forever. You can laugh too, but— +Ha! Ha! Ha!—what do you say to that? Shut up, shut up, and be +ashamed of yourself. Ha! Ha! Ha!" +</P> + +<P> +There was a sensation without. I could see that Emmeline recoiled from +the side of her companion. He had thrown himself into an attitude, had +grappled the logs of my dungeon, and exhibited a degree of strange +emotion, which, to say the least, took everybody by surprise. My chief +custodian was the first to speak. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't be scared, Mr.—there's no danger—he can't get out." +</P> + +<P> +"But I say let him out—let him out. Look at him, ladies—look at him. +You shall see what a madman is—you shall see how I can manage him. +Hark ye, fellow,—out with him at once. Give me your whip—I know all +about his treatment. You shall see me work him. I'll manage +him,—I'll fight with him, and laugh with him too—how we shall +laugh—Ha! Ha! Ha!" +</P> + +<P> +His horrible laughter—for it was horrible—was cut short by an +unexpected incident. He was knocked down as suddenly as I had been, +with a blow from behind, to the astonishment of all around. The +assailant was the sheriff of Hamilton jail, who had just arrived and +detected the fugitive, Archy Dargan—the most cunning of all +bedlamites, as he afterwards assured me—in the person of the handsome +Col. Nelson. +</P> + +<P> +"I knew the scamp by his laugh—I heard it half a mile," said the +sheriff, as he planted himself upon the bosom of the prostrate man, and +proceeded to leash him in proper order. Here was a concatenation +accordingly. +</P> + +<P> +"Who hev' I got in the pen?" was the sapient inquiry of my captor—the +fellow whose whip had been so potent over my imagination. +</P> + +<P> +"Who? Have you any body there?" demanded the sheriff. +</P> + +<P> +"I reckon!—We cocht a chap that Jake made affidavy was the madman." +</P> + +<P> +"Let him out then, and beg the man's pardon. I'll answer for Archy +Dargan." +</P> + +<P> +My appearance before the astonished damsels was gratifying to neither +of us. I was covered with mud and blood,—and they with confusion. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh! Mr. ——, how could we think it was you, such a fright as they've +made you." +</P> + +<P> +Such was Miss Emmeline's speech after her recovery. Susannah's was +quite as characteristic. +</P> + +<P> +"I am so very sorry, Mr. ——." +</P> + +<P> +"Spare your regrets, ladies," I muttered ungraciously, as I leapt on my +horse. "I wish you a very pleasant morning." +</P> + +<P> +"Ha! Ha! Ha!" yelled the bedlamite, writhing and bounding in his +leash—"a very pleasant morning." +</P> + +<P> +The damsels took to their heels, and went off in one direction quite as +fast as I did in the other. Since that day, dear reader, I have never +suffered myself to scare a fool, or to fall in love with a pair of +twins; and if ever I marry, take my word for it, the happy woman shall +neither be a Susannah, nor an Emmeline. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap20"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE CHIROPODIST +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +By BAYARD TAYLOR +</H4> + +<BR> + +<P> +R. Henry Bartlett was one of three gentlemen who rode from the railroad +station to Moore's Hotel, at Trenton Falls, on the top of an omnibus; +and who, having clambered down from that lofty perch, under the +inspection of forty pairs of eyes leveled at them from the balcony, +hastened to inscribe their names in the book, and secure the keys of +their several chambers. To no one of the three, however, was this +privacy so welcome as to Mr. Bartlett, who, entering his room with +flushed face, nervously dismissed the servant, locked the door, and +dropped into a chair with a pant of relief. Our business being +entirely with him, we shall at once dismiss his two companions—whom, +indeed, we have only introduced as accessories to the principal +figure—and, taking our invisible seats in the opposite chair, proceed +to a contemplation of his person. +</P> + +<P> +Age—four, perhaps five, and twenty—certainly not more; height, five +feet nine inches, with well-developed breast and shoulders; limbs, +whose firm, ample muscle betrays itself through the straight lines of +his light summer costume, and hands and feet of agreeable shape; +complexion fair, with a skin of feminine fineness and transparency, +whereon the uncontrollable blood writes his emotions so palpably that +he who runs may read; eyes of a clear, honest blue, but so shy of +meeting a steady gaze that few know how beautiful they really are; +mouth full and sensitive, and of so rich and dewy a red that we can not +help wishing he were a woman that we might be pardoned for kissing it; +forehead broad, and rather low; hair—but here we hesitate, for his +enemies would certainly call it red. Indeed, in some lights it is red, +but its prevailing tint is brown, with a bronze lustre on the curls. +As he sits thus, unconscious of our observation, he is certainly +handsome, in spite of a haunting air of timidity which weakens the +expression of features not weak in themselves. On further observation, +we are inclined to believe that he has not achieved that easy poise of +self-possession which, in men of becoming modesty, is the result of +more or less social experience. He belongs, evidently, to that class +of awkward, honest, warm-hearted, and sensitive natures whom all men +like, and some women. +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Bartlett's reflections, after his arrival, were—we have good +reason to know—after this fashion: "When will I cease to be a fool? +Why couldn't I stare back at all those people on the balcony as coolly +as the two fellows who sat beside me? Why couldn't I get down without +missing the step and grazing my shin on the wheel? Why should I walk +into the house with my head down, and a million of cold little needles +pricking my back, because men and women, and not sheep, were looking at +me? I have at least an average body, as men go—an average intellect, +too, I think; yet every day I see spindly, brainless squirts [Mr. +Bartlett would not have used this epithet in conversation, but it +certainly passed through his mind] put me to shame by their +self-possession. The women think me a fool because I have not the +courage to be natural and unembarrassed, and I carry the consciousness +of the fact about me whenever I meet them. Come, come: this will never +do. I am a man, and I ought to possess the ordinary resolution of a +man. Now, here's a chance to turn over a new leaf. Nobody knows me; +no one will notice me particularly; and whether I fail or succeed, the +experiment will never be brought forward to my confusion hereafter." +</P> + +<P> +Full of a sudden courage he sprang to his feet, and carefully adjusted +his toilet for the tea-table, whistling cheerfully all the while. At +the sound of the gong he descended the staircase, and approached the +dining-room with head erect, meeting the gaze of the other guests with +a steadiness which resembled defiance. He was surprised to find how +mechanical and transitory were the glances he encountered. As Mr. +Bartlett's friend, I should not like to assert that in his efforts to +appear self-possessed he approached the bounds of effrontery; but I +have my own private suspicions about the matter. At the table a lively +conversation was carried on, and he was able to take many stealthy +observations of the ladies without being noticed. To his shame I must +confess that he had never been seriously in love, though it was a +condition he most earnestly desired. Attracted toward women by the +instinct of his nature, and repelled by his awkward embarrassment, +there seemed little chance that he would ever attain it. On this +particular occasion, however, he cast his eyes around with the air of a +sultan scanning his slaves before throwing the handkerchief to the +chosen one. The female guests—old, young, married, single, +ill-favored or beautiful—were subjected to the review. It is +impossible to describe Mr. Bartlett's satisfaction with himself. +</P> + +<P> +He had passed over twenty-nine of the thirty-five ladies present +without experiencing any special emotion; but at the thirtieth he was +suddenly attacked by a recurrence of his habitual timidity. He fixed +his eyes upon his toast, painfully conscious by the warmth of his ears +that he was blushing violently, and actually drank a third cup of tea +(one more than his usual allowance) before he became sufficiently +composed to look up again. Really there was no cause for confusion. +Her face was turned away, so that even the profile was not wholly +visible; but the exquisite line of the forehead and cheek, bent inward +at the angle of the unseen eye, and melting into the sweep of the neck +and shoulder, were the surest possible prophecies of beauty. Her +chestnut hair, rippled at the temples, was gathered into a heavy, +shining knot at the back of her head, and inwoven with the varnished, +heart-shaped leaves of the smilax. More than this Mr. Bartlett did not +dare to notice. +</P> + +<P> +During the evening he flitted restlessly about the rooms, intent on an +object which he thus explained to himself: "I should like to see +whether her front face corresponds to the outline of her cheek. I am +alone; it is too late to visit the Falls, and a whim of this sort will +help me to pass the time." But the lady belonged, apparently, to a +numerous party, who took possession of one end of the balcony and sat +in the moonlight, in such a position that he could not see her features +with distinctness. The face was a pure oval, in a frame-work of superb +hair, and the glossy leaves of smilax glittered like silver in the +moonlight whenever she chanced to turn her head. There were songs, and +she sang—"Scenes that are brightest," or something of the kind, +suggested by the influences of the night. Her voice was clear and +sweet, without much strength—one of those voices which seem to be made +for singing to one ear alone. "Here, by God's grace, is the one voice +for me," thought Mr. Bartlett. [He had just been reading the "Idyls of +the King."] He slipped off to bed, saying to himself: "A little more +courage, and I may be able to make her acquaintance." +</P> + +<P> +In the morning he set out to make the tour of the Falls. Entering the +glen from below, he slowly crept up the black shelves of rock, under +and around the rush of the amber waters. The naiads of Trenton, waving +their scarfs of rainbow brede, tossed their foam fringes in his face: +above, the dryads of the pine and beech looked down from their seats on +the brink of the overhanging walls. Mr. Bartlett was neither a poet +nor a painter, nor was it necessary; but his temperament (as you may +know from his skin and the color of his hair) was joyous and excitable, +and he felt a degree of delight that made him forget his own self. I +fancy there are no embarrassing conventionalisms at the bottom of the +earth—wherever that may be—and the glen at Trenton is two hundred +feet on the way thither. Our friend enjoyed to the full this partial +release, and was surprised to find that he could assist several married +ladies to climb the slippery steps at the High Pall without consciously +blushing. +</P> + +<P> +How it came to pass he never could rightly tell, but certain it is +that, on lifting his eyes after a long contemplation of the shifting +slides of fretted amber, he found himself alone in the glen—with the +exception of a young lady who sat on the rocks a few paces distant. At +the first glance he thought it was a child, for the slight form was +habited in a Bloomer dress, and a broad hat shaded the graceful head. +The wide trowsers were gathered around her ankles, and a pair of the +prettiest feet he had ever seen dangled in the edge of the swift +stream. She was idly plucking up tufts of grass from the crevices of +the rock, and tossing them in the mouth of the cataract, and her face +was partly turned toward him. It was the fair unknown of the evening +before! There was no mistaking the lovely cheek and the rippled +chestnut hair. +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Bartlett felt—as he afterward expressed himself—a warm, sweet +shudder run through all his veins. Alone with that lovely creature, +below the outside surface of the earth! "Oh, if I could but speak to +her! Her dress shows that she can lay aside the soulless forms of +society in such a place as this: why not I? There's Larkin, and +Kirkland, and lots of fellows I know, wouldn't hesitate a moment. But +what shall I say? 'The scenery's very fine?' Pshaw! But the first +sentence is the only difficulty—-the rest will come of itself. What +if I address her boldly as an old acquaintance, and then apologize for +my mistake? Upon my word, a good idea! So natural and possible!" +</P> + +<P> +Having determined upon this plan, he immediately put it into action +before the resolve had time to cool. His step was firm and his bearing +was sufficiently confident as he approached her; but when she lifted +her long lashes, disclosing a pair of large, limpid, hazel eyes, which +regarded him, unabashed, with the transient curiosity one bestows upon +a stranger, his face, I am sure, betrayed the humbug of the thing. The +lady, however, not anticipating what followed, could scarcely have +remarked it. +</P> + +<P> +Raising his hat as he reached the corner of the rock upon which she +sat, he said, in a voice so curiously balanced between his enforced +boldness and his reflected surprise thereat, that he hardly recognized +it as his own: +</P> + +<P> +"How do you do, Miss Lawrence?" +</P> + +<P> +The lady looked at him wonderingly—steady, child-like eyes, that +frankly and innocently perused his face, as if seeking for some trace +of a forgotten acquaintance. Mr. Bartlett could not withdraw his, +although he knew that his face was getting redder and his respiration +more unsteady every moment. He stammered forth: +</P> + +<P> +"Miss Lawrence, of South Carolina, I believe." +</P> + +<P> +"You are mistaken, Sir," said the lady, with the least shade of +coldness in her voice, but it fell upon Mr. Bartlett like the wind from +an iceberg—"I am not Miss Lawrence." +</P> + +<P> +"I—I beg your pardon," he answered, somewhat confusedly. "You +resemble her; I expected to meet her here. Will you please tell her I +enquired for her? Here's my card!" Therewith he thrust both hands +into his vest pockets, extracted a card from one of them, and laid it +hastily upon the rock beside her. +</P> + +<P> +"Bertha! Bertha!" rang through the glen, above the roar of the +waterfall. The remainder of the party which the young lady had +preceded now came into view descending toward her. +</P> + +<P> +"Good-day, Miss Lawrence!" said Mr. Bartlett, again lifting his hat, +and retracing his steps. For his life he could not have passed her and +run the gauntlet of the faces of her friends upon the narrow path. +Every soul of them would have instantly seen what a fool he was. +Moreover, he had achieved enough for one day. The soldier who storms a +perilous breach and finds himself alive on the inside of it could not +be more astonished than he. "I blundered awfully," he thought; "but, +after all, it's the one way to learn."—"Who's your friend, Bertha?" +asked her brother, Dick Morris, the avant-guard of the party. "I never +saw the fellow before." +</P> + +<P> +"If you had not frightened him by your sudden appearance," said she, +"you might have discovered. A Southerner, I suppose, though he don't +look like one. He addressed me as Miss Lawrence, of South Carolina, +and afterwards left me his card, to be given to her. What shall I do +with it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Ha! the card will tell us who he is," said Dick, picking it up. He +instantly burst into a roar of laughter. "Ha! ha! This comes of +wearing a Bloomer, Bertha! Though I must say it's by no means +complimentary to your little feet. Who'd suspect <I>you</I> of having +corns?" +</P> + +<P> +"Dick, what <I>do</I> you mean?" +</P> + +<P> +"Ha! ha! no doubt I came at the nick of time to prevent him from +pulling off your shoes." +</P> + +<P> +"DICK!" +</P> + +<P> +Therewith she impatiently jerked the card from her brother's hand. It +was large, thick, handsomely glazed, and contained the following +inscription: +</P> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +PROFESSOR HURLBUT,<BR> +Chiropodist<BR> +To her Majesty Queen Victoria, and the<BR> +Nobility of Great Britain.<BR> +</H4> + +<BR> + +<P> +"Incredible!" she exclaimed. "So young, and embarrassed in his +manners; how could he ever have taken hold of the Queen's foot?" +</P> + +<P> +"Embarrassed indeed!" said Dick. "I think he has a very cool way of +procuring patients. But, faith, he's chosen a romantic operating-room. +After climbing down these rocks the corns naturally begin to twinge, +and here's the Professor on hand. Behold the march of civilization!" +</P> + +<P> +Bertha did not fall into her brother's vein of badinage, as usual. She +was vexed that the fresh, manly face and blue eyes into which she had +looked belonged to a charlatan, and vexed at herself for being vexed +thereat. It was not so easy, however, to dismiss Professor Hurlbut +from her mind, for Dick had related the incident to the others of the +party, with his own embellishments, and numberless were the jokes to +which it gave rise throughout the day. +</P> + +<P> +Meantime Mr. Bartlett, in happy ignorance of the worst blunder he had +ever made, returned to the hotel. The day previous, at Utica, he had +been annoyed by an itinerant extractor of corns, suppressor of bunions, +and regulator of irregular nails, whose proffered card he had put into +his pocket in order to get rid of the man. It was this card which he +had presented to Miss Morris as his own. On reaching the hotel he +easily ascertained her real name and place of residence, with the +additional fact that the party were to leave for Saratoga on the +morrow. It occurred to him also that Saratoga, in the height of the +season, would be well worth a visit. +</P> + +<P> +In the evening he again happened to meet the lady on the stairs. He +retreated into a corner of the landing, to make room for her ample +skirts, and, catching a glance of curious interest for her hazel eyes, +ventured to say: "Good-evening, Miss Law-ris!" suddenly correcting her +name in the middle. Bertha, in spite of the womanly dignity which she +could very well summon to her aid, could not suppress a fragment of gay +laughter, in which the supposed Professor joined. A slight inclination +of the lovely head acknowledged his salutation. +</P> + +<P> +The next morning Miss Bertha Morris left, with her party, for Saratoga; +and after allowing a day to intervene, in order to avoid the appearance +of design, Mr. Henry Bartlett followed. He did not admit to himself in +the least that this movement was prompted by love; but he was aware of +an intense desire to make her acquaintance. The earnestness which this +desire infused into his nature gave him courage; the man within him was +beginning to wake and stir; and a boyhood of character, prolonged +beyond the usual date, was dropping rapidly into the irrecoverable +conditions of the past. +</P> + +<P> +It chanced that they both took quarters in the same hotel; and great +was Bertha's astonishment; on her first morning visit to the Congress +Spring, to find Professor Hurlbut quietly quaffing his third glass. He +looked so much like a gentleman; he was really so fresh and rosy, so +genuinely masculine in comparison with the blasé youths she was +accustomed to see, that, forgetting his occupation, she acknowledged +his bow with a cordiality which provoked herself the moment afterward. +Mr. Bartlett was so much encouraged by this recognition that he +ventured to walk beside her on their return to the hotel. She, having +in the impulsive frankness and forgetfulness of her nature returned his +greeting, felt bound to suffer the temporary companionship, +embarrassing though it was. Fortunately none of her friends were in +sight, nor was it probable that they knew the chiropodist in any case. +She would be rid of him at the hotel door, and would take good care to +avoid him in the future. +</P> + +<P> +"How delightful it is here!" said Mr. Bartlett, thinking more of his +present position than of Saratoga in general. +</P> + +<P> +An inclination of the head was her only reply. +</P> + +<P> +"This is my first visit," he added; "and I can not conceive of a summer +society gayer or more inspiring." +</P> + +<P> +"I have no doubt you will find it a very favorable place for your +business," said Bertha, maliciously recalling him to his occupation, as +she thought. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I hope so!" exclaimed the innocent Bartlett. For was not his only +business in Saratoga the endeavour to make her acquaintance? And was +he not already in a fair way to be successful? +</P> + +<P> +"Disgusting!" thought Bertha, as she suddenly turned and sprang up the +steps in front of the ladies' drawing-room. "He thinks of nothing but +his horrid corn-plaster, or whatever it is! I really believe he +suspects that I need his services. That such a man should be so brazen +a charlatan—it is monstrous!" +</P> + +<P> +Such thoughts were not an auspicious commencement for the day, and +Bertha's friends remarked that she was not in her sunniest mood. She +was very careful, however, not to speak of her meeting with the +chiropodist; there would have been no end to her brother's banter. She +was also vexed that she could not forget his honest blue eyes, and the +full, splendid curves of his mouth. Indignation, she supposed, was her +predominant emotion; but, in reality, there was a strong under-feeling +of admiration, had she been aware of it. +</P> + +<P> +After dinner Mr. Bartlett, occupying the post of observation at his +window (room No. 1346, seventh story), saw the Morris party—Bertha +among them—enter a carriage and drive away in the direction of the +Lake. Half an hour later, properly attired, he mounted a handsome roan +at the door of a livery-stable, and set off in the same direction. He +was an accomplished rider, his legs being somewhat shorter than was +required by due proportion, owing to which circumstance he appeared +taller on horseback than afoot. Like all horsemen, he was thoroughly +self-possessed when in the saddle; and could he but have ridden into +drawing-rooms and dining-rooms, would have felt no trace of his +customary timidity. +</P> + +<P> +Bertha noticed his figure afar off, approaching the carriage on a rapid +trot, but made no remark. Dick, who had a quick eye for good points +both in man and beast, exclaimed, "By Jove! there's a fine pair of +them! Look at the action of that roan! See how the fellow rises at +the right moment without leaving his saddle! no jumping or bumping +there!" Mr. Bartlett came on at a staving pace, lifting his hat to the +ladies with perfect grace as he passed. He would have blushed could he +have felt a single ripple of the wave of admiration which flowed after +him. Bertha alone was silent, more than ever provoked and disgusted +that such a gallant outward embodiment of manhood should be connected +with such disagreeable associations! Had he been any thing but a +chiropodist! A singular feeling of shame, for his sake, prevented her +from betraying his personality to her friends; and it came to pass that +they innocently defended the very charlatan whom they had so ridiculed +in the glen at Trenton from her half-disparaging observations. +</P> + +<P> +After all, she thought, the man may be honest in his profession, which +he may look upon as simply that of a physician. A pain in the toe is +probably as troublesome as a pain in the head; and why should not one +be cured as well as the other? A dentist, I am sure, is a very +respectable person; and, for my part, I would as soon operate on a +corny toe as a carious tooth. [I would not have you suppose, ladies, +that Miss Morris made use of such horrid expressions in her +conversation: I am only putting her thoughts into my own words.] +Still, the conclusion to which she invariably arrived was, "I wish he +were any thing else!" +</P> + +<P> +That evening there was a hop at the hotel. The Morrises were +enthusiastic dancers—even the widow, Bertha's mother, not disdaining a +quadrille. Mr. Bartlett, in an elegant evening dress, his eyes +sparkling with new light, was there also. In the course of the day he +had encountered a Boston cousin, Miss Jane Heath, a tall, dashing girl, +some two or three years older than himself. She was one of the few +women with whom he felt entirely at ease. There was an honest, +cousinly affection between them; and he always felt relieved, in +society, when supported by her presence. +</P> + +<P> +"Now, Harry," said Jane, as they entered the room, "remember, the first +schottisch belongs to me. After that, I'll prove my disinterestedness +by finding you partners." +</P> + +<P> +As he led her upon the floor his eyes dropped in encountering those of +Bertha Morris, whose floating tulle was just settling itself to rest as +she whirled out of the ranks. Poor Bertha! had she been alone she +could have cried. He danced as well as he rode—the splendid, mean +fellow! the handsome, horrid—chiropodist! Well, it was all outward +varnish, no doubt. If it was true that he had relieved the nobility of +Great Britain of their corns, he must have acquired something of the +elegances of their society. But such ease and grace in dancing could +not be picked up by mere imitation—it was a born gift. Even her +brother Dick, who was looked upon as the highest result of fashionable +education in such matters, was not surer or lighter of foot. +</P> + +<P> +An hour later Bertha, who had withdrawn from the dancers and was +refreshing herself with the mild night air at an open window, found +herself temporarily separated from her friends. Mr. Bartlett had +evidently been watching for such an opportunity, for he presently +disengaged himself from the crowd and approached her. +</P> + +<P> +"You are fond of dancing, Miss Morris?" said he. +</P> + +<P> +"Ye-es," she answered, hesitatingly, divided between her determination +to repel his effrontery and her inability to do so. She turned partly +away, and gazed steadily into the moonshine. +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Bartlett, however, was not to be discouraged. "Still, even the +most agreeable exercise will fatigue at last," he remarked. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh," said Bertha, rather sharply, suspecting a professional meaning in +his words, "my feet are perfectly sound, I assure you, Sir!" +</P> + +<P> +It is not to be denied that he was a little surprised at the +earnestness of an assertion which, in a playful tone, would not have +seemed out of place. "I think you proved that at Trenton Falls," he +rejoined; "but will you grant me the pleasure of another test during +the next quadrille?" +</P> + +<P> +"No further test is necessary, Sir. I presume you have patients enough +already!" And having uttered these words as coolly as her indignation +allowed, Bertha moved away from the window. +</P> + +<P> +"Patience?" said Mr. Bartlett to himself, wholly misapprehending her +meaning; "yes, I shall have patience while there is a chance to hope. +But why did she speak of patience? Women, I have heard, are natural +diplomatists, and have a thousand indirect ways of saying things which +they do not wish to speak outright. Could she mean to test the +sincerity of my wish to know her. It is not to be expected that a +stranger, so awkwardly introduced, should be received without +hesitation—mistrust, perhaps. No, no, I must persevere; she would +despise me if I did not understand her meaning." +</P> + +<P> +The following days were cold and rainy. There was an end of the gay +out-door life which offered him so many chances of meeting Miss Morris, +and the fleeting glimpses he caught of her in the great dining-hall or +the passage leading to the ladies' parlor were simply tantalizing. I +have no doubt there was a mute appeal in his eyes which must have +troubled the young lady's conscience; for she avoided meeting his gaze. +The knowledge of his presence made her uneasy; there was an atmosphere +about the hotel which she would willingly have escaped. She walked +with the consciousness of an eye every where following her, and, in +spite of herself, furtively sought for it. We, who are aware of her +mystification, may be amused at it; but imagine yourselves in the same +situation, ladies, and you will appreciate its horrors! +</P> + +<P> +No, this was not longer to be endured, and so, after five or six days +at Saratoga, the party suddenly left for Niagara. Bertha, an only +daughter, was a petted child, and might have had her own way much +oftener than was really the case. The principal use she made of her +privilege was to follow the bent of a remarkably free, joyous, and +confiding nature. She was just unconventional enough to preserve an +individuality, and thereby distinguish herself from thousands of girls +who seem to have been cut out by a single pattern. The sphere within +which true womanhood moves is much wider than most women suspect. To +the frank, honest, and pure nature, what are called "the bounds of +propriety" are its natural horizon-ring, moving with it, and inclosing +it every where without restraining its freedom. +</P> + +<P> +We shall not be surprised to find that shortly after Miss Morris's +departure Room No. 1346 in the Catanational Hotel had another tenant. +Mr. Bartlett followed, as a matter of course. He began nevertheless, +to feel very much like a fool, and—as he afterward confessed—spent +most of the time between Utica and the Suspension Bridge in +deliberating whether he should seek or avoid an interview. As if such +discussions with one's self ever amounted to any thing! +</P> + +<P> +Ascertaining the lady's presence, he decided to devote his first day to +Niagara, trusting the rest to chance. In fact, he could not have done +a more sensible thing, for there is a Special Chance appointed for such +cases. The forenoon was not over before he experienced its operations. +Bertha, cloaked and cowled in India-rubber, stood on the hurricane deck +of the "Maid of the Mist," as the venturesome little steamer approached +the corner of the Horse-Shoe Fall. Looking up through blinding spray +at the shimmer of emerald and dazzling silver against the sky, she +crept near a broad-shouldered figure to shelter herself from the stormy +gusts of the Fall. Suddenly the boat wheeled, at the very edge of the +tremendous sheet, and swirled away from the vortex with a heave which +threw her off her feet. She did not fall, however; for strong arms +caught her waist and steadied her until the motion subsided. +</P> + +<P> +Through the rush of the spray and the roar of the Fall she indistinctly +heard a voice apologizing for the unceremonious way in which the arms +had seized her. She did not speak—-fearful, in fact, of having her +mouth filled with water—but frankly gave the gentleman her hand. The +monkish figure bowed low over the wet fingers, and respectfully +withdrew. As the mist cleared away she encountered familiar eyes. Was +it possible? The Chiropodist! +</P> + +<P> +This discovery gave Bertha no little uneasiness. A subtle instinct +told her that he had followed on her account, in spite of her cornless +feet. Perhaps he had left a lucrative practice at Saratoga—and why? +There was but one answer to the question, and she blushed painfully as +she admitted its possibility. What was to be done? She would tell her +brother; but no—young men are so rash and violent. Avoid him? That +was difficult and embarrassing. Ignore him? Yes, as much as possible, +and, if necessary, frankly tell him that she could not accept his +acquaintance. On the whole, this course seemed best, though an +involuntary sympathy with her victim made her wish that it were all +over. +</P> + +<P> +In the afternoon Mrs. Morris, as usual, took her summer siesta; Dick +had found a friend, and was whirling somewhere behind a pair of fast +horses; and, finally, Bertha, bored by the society in the ladies' +parlor, took her hat and a book and walked over to Goat Island. She +made the circuit of its forests and flashing water views, and finally +selected a shady seat on its western side, whence she could look out on +the foamy stairs of the Rapids. The unnecessary book lay in her lap; a +more wonderful book than any printed volume lay open before her. +</P> + +<P> +Who shall dare to interpret the day-dream of a maiden? Soothed by the +mellow roar of the waters, fascinated by the momentary leaps of spray +from the fluted, shell-shaped hollows of the descending waves, and +freshened by the wind that blew from the cool Canadian shore, she +nursed her wild weeds of fancy till they blossomed into brighter than +garden-flowers. Meanwhile a thunder-cloud rose, dark and swift, in the +west. The menaces of its coming were unheard, and Bertha was first +recalled to consciousness by the sudden blast of cold wind that +precedes the ram. +</P> + +<P> +When she looked up, the gray depth of storm already arched high over +the Canadian woods, and big drops began to rap on the shingly bank +below her. A little further down was a summer-house—open to the west, +it is true, but it offered the only chance of shelter within view. She +had barely reached it before a heavy peal of thunder shattered the +bolts of the rain, and it rushed down in an overwhelming flood. +Mounted on the bench and crouched in the least exposed corner, she was +endeavoring, with but partial success, to shelter herself from the +driving flood, when a man, coming from the opposite end of the island, +rushed up at full speed. +</P> + +<P> +"Here," he panted, "Miss Morris, take this umbrella! I saw you at a +distance, and made haste to reach you. I hope you're not wet." The +spacious umbrella was instantly clapped over her, and the inevitable +Chiropodist placed himself in front to steady it, fully exposed to the +rain. +</P> + +<P> +Bertha was not proof against this gallant self-sacrifice. In the +surprise of the storm—the roar of which, mingled with that of the +Fall, made a continuous awful peal—the companionship of any human +being was a relief, and she felt grateful for Professor Hurlbut's +arrival. Chiropodist though he was, he must not suffer for her sake. +</P> + +<P> +"Here!" said she, lifting the umbrella, "it will shelter us both. +Quick! I insist upon it:" seeing that he hesitated. +</P> + +<P> +There was really no time for parley, for every drop pierced him to the +skin, and the next moment found him planted before her, interposing a +double shield. His tender anxiety for her sake quite softened Bertha. +How ungrateful she had been! +</P> + +<P> +"This is the second time I am obliged to you to-day, Sir," said she. +"I am sorry that I have unintentionally given you trouble." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, Miss Morris," cried the delighted Bartlett, "don't mention it! +It's nothing; I am quite amphibious, you know." +</P> + +<P> +"You might be now in a place of shelter but for me," she answered, +penitently. +</P> + +<P> +"I'd rather be here than any where else!" he exclaimed, in a burst of +candor which quite overleaped the barrier of self-possession and came +down on the other side. "If you would allow me to be your friend, Miss +Morris—if you would permit me to—to speak with you now and then; +if—if—" Here he paused, not knowing precisely what more to say, yet +feeling that he had already said enough to make his meaning clear. +</P> + +<P> +Bertha was cruelly embarrassed, but only for a moment. Professor +Hurlbut had at least been frank and honest in his avowal—she felt his +sincerity through and through—and he deserved equal honesty at her +hands. +</P> + +<P> +"I am your debtor," said she, in an uncertain voice; "and you have a +right to expect gratitude, at least, from me. I can not, therefore, +refuse your acquaintance, though, as you know, your—your occupation +would be considered objectionable by many persons." +</P> + +<P> +"My occupation!" +</P> + +<P> +"Your profession, then. I must candidly confess that I have a +prejudice—a foolish one, perhaps, against it." +</P> + +<P> +"My profession!" cried the astonished Bartlett; "why, I have none!" +</P> + +<P> +"Well—it <I>is</I> scarcely to be called a 'profession,' but it is always +liable to the charge of charlatanism: pardon me the word. And it may +be ridiculed in so many ways. I wish, for your sake—for I believe you +to be capable of better things—that you would adopt some other +business." +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Bartlett's amazement was now beyond all bounds, "Good Heavens!" he +exclaimed, "Miss Morris, what do you mean?" +</P> + +<P> +Starting up from the bench as he uttered these words he jostled +Bertha's book from her hand. The leaves parted in falling, and a large +card, escaping from between them, fluttered down upon the floor. He +picked it up and restored it to her, with the book. +</P> + +<P> +"There!" she answered, giving the card back again, "there is what I +mean! Must I give you your own card in order to acquaint you with your +own business?" +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Bartlett looked at it for a second in blank amazement; then, like a +flash of lightning, the whole course of the misunderstanding flashed +across his mind. He burst—I am ashamed to say—into a tremendous +paroxysm of mingled tears and laughter: were he not so strong and +masculine a man, I should say, "hysterics." In vain he struggled to +find words. At every attempt a fresh convulsion of laughter seized +him, and tears, mingled with rain, flowed down his cheeks. +</P> + +<P> +Bertha began to be alarmed at this strange and unexpected convulsion. +"Professor Hurlbut!" said she, "what is the matter?" +</P> + +<P> +"Professor Hurlbut!" he repeated, in a faint, scarcely audible scream; +then, striving to suppress his uncontrollable fit of delight and +comical surprise, he sank upon the bench at her feet, shaking from head +to foot with the effort. +</P> + +<P> +"A-a-ah!" he at last panted forth, as if heaving an atlas-load from his +heart, and stood erect before her. With his face still flushed and +eyes sparkling he was as handsome an embodiment of youth and life as +one could wish to see. In two words he explained to her the mistake, +on learning which Bertha blushed deeply, saying: "How could I ever have +supposed it!" And then, reflecting upon the inferences which could be +drawn from such an expression, became suddenly shy and silent. +</P> + +<P> +Of course she accepted Mr. Bartlett's escort to the hotel when the rain +was over, and he was presented to the agonised mother, who hailed him +as a deliverer of her daughter from untold dangers, and privately +remarked, afterward, to the latter: "Upon my word, a very nice young +man, my dear!" Dick's commendation was no less emphatic though +differently expressed: "A good fellow! well made in the shoulders and +flanks: fine action, but wants a little training!" +</P> + +<P> +By this time, ladies, you have probably guessed the conclusion. My +story would neither be agreeable nor true (I am relating facts) if they +were not married, and did not have two children, and live happy ever +after. Married they were, in the course of time, and happy they also +are, for I visit them now and then. +</P> + +<P> +One thing I had nearly forgotten. When Mrs. Bartlett chooses to tease +her husband in that playful way so delightful to married lovers, she +invariably calls him "Professor Hurlbut," while he retorts with "Miss +Lawrence, of South Carolina." Moreover, in Mrs. B.'s confidential +little boudoir, over her work-stand, hangs a neatly-framed card, +whereon you may read: +</P> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +PROFESSOR HURLBUT,<BR> +Chiropodist<BR> +To her Majesty Queen Victoria, and the<BR> +Nobility of Great Britain.<BR> +</H4> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap21"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +"MR. DOOLEY ON CORPORAL PUNISHMENT" +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +By F. P. DUNNE +</H4> + +<P CLASS="intro"> +Copyright 1907 by H. H. McClure & Co. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +"Well, sir," said Mr. Dooley, "I see that some school-teachers down +East have been petitioning to be allowed to slug th' young." +</P> + +<P> +"How's that?" asked Mr. Hennessy. +</P> + +<P> +"Well," said Mr. Dooley "they say they can't do anything with these +tender little growths onless they use a club. They want the boord iv +iddycation to restore what's called corporal punishment—that is th' +fun iv lickin' some wan that can't fight back. Says wan iv thim: 'Th' +little wans undher our care are far fr'm bein' th' small angels that +they look. As a matther iv fact they are rebellyous monsthers that +must be suppressed be vigorous an',' says he, 'stern measures. Is it +right,' says he, 'that us school masthers shud daily risk our lives at +th' hands iv these feerocious an' tigerish inimies iv human s'ciety +without havin' a chance to pound thim? Yisterdah a goolden haired imp +iv perdition placed a tack in me chair. To-day I found a dead rat in +the desk. At times they write opprobyous epithets about me on th' +blackboard; at other times crood but pinted carrycachures. Nawthin' +will conthrol thim. They hurl the murdherous spitball. They pull th' +braid iv th' little girl. They fire baseballs through th' windows. +Sometimes lumps iv chewin' gum are found undher their desks where they +have stuck thim f'r further use. They shuffle their feet whin I'm +narvous. They look around thim when they think I'm not lookin'. They +pass notes grossly insultin' each other. Moral suasion does no good. +I have thried writin' to their parents askin' thim to cripple their +offspring, an' th' parents have come over an' offered to fight me. +I've thried keepin' thim afther school, makin' thim write compositions +an' shakin' th' milk teeth out iv thim, but to no avail. Me opinyon is +that th' av'rage small boy is a threecherous, dangerous crather like +th' Apachy Indyan' an' that th' on'y thing to do with him is to slam +him with a wagon spoke,' says he. +</P> + +<P> +"An th' boord iv iddycation is discussin' th' petition. It can't quite +make up its mind whether Solomon wasn't right. Solomon said, accordin' +to Hogan, spile th' rod an' save th' child. He must've had a large +famly if he was annywhere near Tiddy Rosenfelt's law iv av'rages. I +don't see how he cud've spared time f'r writin' from correctin' his +fam'ly. He must've set up nights. Annyhow, th' boord iv iddycation is +discussin' whether he was right or not. I don't know mys'lf. All I +know is that if I was a life insurance canvasser or a coal dealer or +something else that made me illegible to be a mimber iv a boord iv +iddycation, an' an able-bodied man six feet tall come to me f'r +permission to whale a boy three feet tall, I'd say: 'I don't know +whether ye are compitint. Punishing people requires special thrainin'. +It ain't iv'rybody that's suited f'r th' job. Ye might bungle it. +Just take off ye'er coat an' vest an' step into th' next room an' be +examined.' An' in th' next room th' ambitious iddycator wud find James +J. Jeffreys or some other akely efficient expert ready f'r him an' if +he come back alive he'd have a certy-ficate entitlin' him to whack anny +little boy he met—except mine. +</P> + +<P> +"Sure there'd be very few people to say they believed in corporal +punishment if corporal punishment was gin'ral. I wudden't give anny +wan th' right to lick a child that wanted to lick a child. No wan shud +be licked till he's too old to take a licking. If it's right to larrup +an infant iv eight, why ain't it right to larrup wan iv eighteen? +Supposin' Prisidint Hadley iv Yale see that th' left tackle or th' half +back iv th' football team wasn't behavin' right. He'd been caught +blowin' a pea shooter at th' pro-fissor iv iliminthry chemisthry, or +pullin' th' dure bell iv th' pro-fissor iv dogmatic theosophy. He +don't know any different. He's not supposed to ralize th' distinction +between right an' wrong yet. Does Prisidint Hadley grab th' child be +th' ear an' conduct him to a corner iv th' schoolroom an wallup him? +Ye bet he does not. Prisidint Hadley may be a bold man in raisin' +money or thranslatin' Homer, but he knows th' diff'rence between +courage and sheer recklessness. If he thried to convince this young +idea how to shoot in this careless way ye'd read in the pa-apers that +th' fire department was thryin' to rescue Prisidint Hadley fr'm th' +roof iv th' buildin' but he declined to come down. +</P> + +<P> +"But what wud ye do with a child that refused to obey ye?" demanded Mr. +Hennessy. +</P> + +<P> +"Not bein' ayther a parent or an iddycator I nivir had such a child," +said Mr. Dooley. "I don't know what I'd do if I was. Th' on'y thing I +wudden't do wud be to hit him if he cudden't hit back, an' thin I'd +think twice about it. Th' older I grow th' more things there are I +know I don't know annything about. An' wan iv thim is childher. I +can't figure thim out at all. +</P> + +<P> +"What d'ye know about thim little wans that ye have so carefully reared +be lavin' thim in th' mornin' befure they got up an' losin' ye'er +temper with at night whin ye come home fr'm wurruk? They don't know ye +an' ye don't know thim. Ye'll niver know till 'tis too late. I've +often wondhered what a little boy thinks about us that call oursilves +grown up because we can't grow anny more. We wake him up in th' +mornin' whin he wants to sleep. We make him wash his face whin he +knows it don't need washin' thin as much as it will later an' we sind +him back to comb his hair in a way he don't approve iv at all. We fire +him off to school just about th' time iv day whin anny wan ought to be +out iv dures. He trudges off to a brick buildin' an' a tired teacher +tells him a lot iv things he hasn't anny inthrest in at all, like how +manny times sivin goes into a hundhred an' nine an' who was King iv +England in thirteen twinty-two an' where is Kazabazoo on the map. He +has to set there most iv th' pleasant part iv th' day with sixty other +kids an' ivry time be thries to do annything that seems right to him +like jabbin' a frind with a pin or carvin' his name on the desk, th' +sthrange lady or gintleman that acts as his keeper swoops down on him +an' makes him feel like a criminal. To'rds evenin' if he's been good +an' repressed all his nacharal instincts he's allowed to go home an' +chop some wood. Whin he's done that an' has just managed to get a few +iv his frinds together an' they're beginnin' to get up interest in th' +spoort iv throwin' bricks down into a Chinese laundhry his little +sister comes out an' tells him he's wanted at home. He instinctively +pulls her hair an' goes in to study his lessons so that he'll be able +to-morrow to answer some ridiklous questions that are goin' to be asked +him. Afther a while ye come home an' greet him with ye'er usual glare +an' ye have supper together. Ye do most iv th' talkin', which ain't +much. If he thries to cut in with somethin' that intelligent people +ought to talk about ye stop him with a frown. Afther supper he's +allowed to study some more, an' whin he's finished just as th' night +begins to look good he's fired off to bed an' th' light is taken away +fr'm him an' he sees ghosts an' hobgoberlins in th' dark an' th' next +he knows he's hauled out iv bed an' made to wash his face again. +</P> + +<P> +"An' so it goes. If he don't do anny iv these things or if he doesn't +do thim th' way ye think is th' right way some wan hits him or wants +to. Talk about happy childhood. How wud ye like to have twinty or +thirty people issuin' foolish ordhers to ye, makin' ye do things ye +didn't want to do, an' niver undherstandin' at all why it was so? Tis +like livin' on this earth an' bein' ruled by the inhabitants iv Mars. +He has his wurruld, ye can bet on that, an' 'tis a mighty important +wurruld. Who knows why a kid wud rather ate potatoes cooked nice an' +black on a fire made of sthraw an' old boots thin th' delicious oatmeal +so carefully an' so often prepared f'r him be his kind parents? Who +knows why he thinks a dark hole undher a sidewalk is a robbers' cave? +Who knows why he likes to collect in wan pocket a ball iv twine, glass +marbles, chewin' gum, a dead sparrow an' half a lemon? Who knows what +his seasons are? They are not mine, an' they're not ye'ers, but he +goes as reg'lar fr'm top time to marble time an' fr'm marble time to +kite time as we go fr'm summer to autumn an' autumn to winter. To-day +he's thryin' to annihilate another boy's stick top with his; to-morrow +he's thrying to sail a kite out iv a tillygraft wire. Who knows why he +does it? +</P> + +<P> +"Faith we know nawthin' about him an' he knows nawthin' about us. I +can raymimber whin I was a little boy but I can't raymimber how I was a +little boy. I call back 's though it was yisterdah th' things I did, +but why I did thim I don't know. Faith, if I cud look for'ard to th' +things I've done I cud no more aisily explain why I was goin' to do +thim. Maybe we're both wrong in the way we look at each other—us an' +th' childher. We think we've grown up an' they don't guess that we're +childher. If they knew us betther they'd not be so surprised at our +actions an' wudden't foorce us to hit thim. Whin ye issued some +foolish ordher to ye'er little boy he'd say: 'Pah-pah is fractious +to-day. Don't ye think he ought to have some castor ile?'" +</P> + +<P> +"It's a wise child that knows his own father," said Mr. Hennessy. +</P> + +<P> +"It's a happy child that doesn't," said Mr. Dooley. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap22"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +OVER A WOOD FIRE +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +DONALD G. MITCHELL +</H4> + +<BR> + +<P> +I have got a quiet farmhouse in the country, a very humble place, to be +sure, tenanted by a worthy enough man of the old New England stamp, +where I sometimes go for a day or two in the winter, to look over the +farm accounts and to see how the stock is thriving on the winter's keep. +</P> + +<P> +One side the door, as you enter from the porch, is a little parlor, +scarce twelve feet by ten, with a cozy-looking fireplace, a heavy oak +floor, a couple of armchairs, and a brown table with carved lions' +feet. Out of this room opens a little cabinet, only big enough for a +broad bachelor bedstead, where I sleep upon feathers, and wake in the +morning with my eye upon a saucy colored lithographic print of some +fancy "Bessy." +</P> + +<P> +It happens to be the only house in the world of which I am <I>bona fide</I> +owner, and I take a vast deal of comfort in treating it just as I +choose. I manage to break some article of furniture almost every time +I pay it a visit; and if I cannot open the window readily of a morning, +to breathe the fresh air, I knock out a pane or two of glass with my +boot. I lean against the walls in a very old armchair there is on the +premises, and scarce ever fail to worry such a hole in the plastering +as would set me down for a round charge for damages in town, or make a +prim housewife fret herself into a raging fever. I laugh out loud with +myself, in my big armchair, when I think that I am neither afraid of +one nor the other. +</P> + +<P> +As for the fire, I keep the little hearth so hot as to warm half the +cellar below, and the whole space between the jams roars for two hours +together with white flame. To be sure, the windows are not very tight, +between broken panes and bad joints, so that the fire, large as it is, +is by no means an extravagant comfort. +</P> + +<P> +As night approaches, I have a huge pile of oak and hickory placed +beside the hearth; I put out the tallow candle on the mantel (using the +family snuffers, with one leg broken), then, drawing my chair directly +in front of the blazing wood, and setting one foot on each of the old +iron fire-dogs (until they grow too warm), I dispose myself for an +evening of such sober and thoughtful quietude as I believe, on my soul, +that very few of my fellow men have the good fortune to enjoy. +</P> + +<P> +My tenant, meantime, in the other room, I can hear now and then—though +there is a thick stone chimney, and broad entry between—multiplying +contrivances with his wife to put two babies to sleep. This occupies +them, I should say, usually an hour, though my only measure of time +(for I never carry a watch into the country) is the blaze of my fire. +By ten, or thereabouts, my stock of wood is nearly exhausted; I pile +upon the hot coals what remains, and sit watching how it kindles, and +blazes, and goes out—-even like our joys—and then slip by the light +of the embers into my bed, where I luxuriate in such sound and +healthful slumber as only such rattling window-frames and country air +can supply. +</P> + +<P> +But to return: the other evening—it happened to be on my last visit to +my farmhouse—when I had exhausted all the ordinary rural topics of +thought, had formed all sorts of conjectures as to the income of the +year; had planned a new wall around one lot, and the clearing up of +another, now covered with patriarchal wood; and wondered if the little +rickety house would not be after all a snug enough box to live and to +die in—I fell on a sudden into such an unprecedented line of thought, +which took such deep hold of my sympathies—sometimes even starting +tears—that I determined, the next day, to set as much of it as I could +recall on paper. +</P> + +<P> +Something—it may have been the home-looking blaze (I am a bachelor of, +say, six-and-twenty), or possibly a plaintive cry of the baby in my +tenant's room, had suggested to me the thought of—marriage. +</P> + +<P> +I piled upon the heated fire-dogs the last armful of my wood; "and +now," said I, bracing myself courageously between the arms of my chair, +"I'll not flinch; I'll pursue the thought wherever it leads, though it +leads me to the d—(I am apt to be hasty)—at least," continued I, +softening, "until my fire is out." +</P> + +<P> +The wood was green, and at first showed no disposition to blaze. It +smoked furiously. Smoke, thought I, always goes before blaze; and so +does doubt go before decision: and my reverie, from that very +starting-point, slipped into this shape: +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent" ALIGN="center"> +I. SMOKE—SIGNIFYING DOUBT<BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +A wife? thought I. Yes, a wife. +</P> + +<P> +And why? +</P> + +<P> +And pray, my dear sir, why not—why? Why not doubt? why not hesitate; +why not tremble? +</P> + +<P> +Does a man buy a ticket in a lottery—a poor man whose whole earnings +go in to secure the ticket—without trembling, hesitating, and doubting? +</P> + +<P> +Can a man stake his bachelor respectability, his independence, and +comfort, upon the die of absorbing, unchanging, relentless marriage, +without trembling at the venture? +</P> + +<P> +Shall a man who has been free to chase his fancies over the wide world, +without let or hindrance, shut himself up to marriage-ship, within four +walls called home, that are to claim him, his time, his trouble, and +his tears, thenceforward forevermore, without doubts thick, and +thick-coming as smoke? +</P> + +<P> +Shall he who has been hitherto a mere observer of other men's cares and +business—moving off where they made him sick of heart, approaching +whenever and wherever they made him gleeful—shall he now undertake +administration of just such cares and business, without qualms? Shall +he, whose whole life has been but a nimble succession of escapes from +trifling difficulties, now broach without doubtings—that matrimony, +where if difficulty beset him there is no escape? Shall this brain of +mine, careless-working, never tired with idleness, feeding on long +vagaries and high, gigantic castles, dreaming out beatitudes hour by +hour—turn itself at length to such dull task-work as thinking out a +livelihood for wife and children? +</P> + +<P> +Where thenceforward will be those sunny dreams, in which I have warmed +my fancies, and my heart, and lighted my eye with crystal? This very +marriage, which a brilliant working imagination has invested time and +again with brightness and delight, can serve no longer as a mine for +teeming fancy. All, alas! will be gone—reduced to the dull standard +of the actual. No more room for intrepid forays of imagination—no +more gorgeous realm-making. All will be over! +</P> + +<P> +Why not, I thought, go on dreaming? +</P> + +<P> +Can any wife be prettier than an after-dinner fancy, idle and yet +vivid, can paint for you? Can any children make less noise than the +little rosy-cheeked ones who have no existence except in the omnium +gatherum of your own brain? Can any housewife be more unexceptionable +than she who goes sweeping daintily the cobwebs that gather in your +dreams? Can any domestic larder be better stocked than the private +larder of your head dozing on a cushioned chair-back at Delmonico's? +Can any family purse be better filled than the exceeding plump one you +dream of, after reading such pleasant books as Munchausen or Typee? +</P> + +<P> +But if, after all, it must be—duty, or what-not, making +provocation—what then? And I clapped my feet hard against the +fire-dogs, and leaned back, and turned my face to the ceiling, as much +as to say, And where on earth, then, shall a poor devil look for a wife? +</P> + +<P> +Somebody says—Lyttleton or Shaftesbury, I think—that "marriages would +be happier if they were all arranged by the Lord Chancellor." +Unfortunately, we have no Lord Chancellor to make this commutation of +our misery. +</P> + +<P> +Shall a man then scour the country on a mule's back, like honest Gil +Blas of Santillane? or shall he make application to some such +intervening providence as Madame St. Marc, who, as I see by the Presse, +manages these matters to one's hand, for some five per cent on the +fortunes of the parties? +</P> + +<P> +I have trouted when the brook was so low and the sky so hot that I +might as well have thrown my fly upon the turnpike; and I have hunted +hare at noon, and woodcock in snowtime—never despairing, scarce +doubting; but for a poor hunter of his kind, without traps or snares, +or any aid of police or constabulary, to traverse the world, where are +swarming, on a moderate computation, some three hundred and odd +millions of unmarried women, for a single capture—irremediable, +unchangeable—and yet a capture which by strange metonymy, not laid +down in the books, is very apt to turn captor into captive and make +game of hunter—all this, surely, surely may make a man shrug with +doubt! +</P> + +<P> +Then, again, there are the plaguy wife's relations. Who knows how many +third, fourth, or fifth cousins will appear at careless complimentary +intervals long after you had settled into the placid belief that all +congratulatory visits were at an end? How many twisted-headed brothers +will be putting in their advice, as a friend to Peggy? +</P> + +<P> +How many maiden aunts will come to spend a month or two with their +"dear Peggy," and want to know every tea-time "if she isn't a dear love +of a wife?" Then, dear father-in-law will beg (taking dear Peggy's +hand in his) to give a little wholesome counsel; and will be very sure +to advise just the contrary of what you had determined to undertake. +And dear mamma-in-law must set her nose into Peggy's cupboard, and +insist upon having the key to your own private locker in the wainscot. +</P> + +<P> +Then, perhaps, there is a little bevy of dirty-nosed nephews who come +to spend the holidays, and eat up your East India sweetmeats; and who +are forever tramping over your head or raising the old Harry below, +while you are busy with your clients. Last, and worse, is some fidgety +old uncle, forever too cold or too hot, who vexes you with his +patronizing airs, and impudently kisses his little Peggy! +</P> + +<P> +That could be borne, however; for perhaps he has promised his fortune +to Peggy. Peggy, then, will be rich (and the thought made me rub my +shins, which were now getting comfortably warm upon the fire-dogs). +Then she will be forever talking of <I>her</I> fortune; and pleasantly +reminding you; on occasion of a favorite purchase, how lucky that <I>she</I> +had the means; and dropping hints about economy; and buying very +extravagant Paisleys. +</P> + +<P> +She will annoy you by looking over the stock-list at breakfast-time, +and mention quite carelessly to your clients that she is interested in +<I>such</I> or such a speculation. +</P> + +<P> +She will be provokingly silent when you hint to a tradesman that you +have not the money by you for his small bill—in short, she will tear +the life out of you, making you pay in righteous retribution of +annoyance, grief, vexation, shame, and sickness of heart, for the +superlative folly of "marrying rich." +</P> + +<P> +But if not rich, then poor. Bah! the thought made me stir the coals; +but there was still no blaze. The paltry earnings you are able to +wring out of clients by the sweat of your brow will now be all <I>our</I> +income; you will be pestered for pin-money, and pestered with your poor +wife's relations. Ten to one, she will stickle about taste—"Sir +Visto's"—and want to make this so pretty, and that so charming, if she +<I>only</I> had the means; and is sure Paul (a kiss) can't deny his little +Peggy such a trifling sum, and all for the common benefit. +</P> + +<P> +Then she, for one, means that <I>her</I> children sha'n't go a-begging for +clothes—and another pull at the purse. Trust a poor mother to dress +her children in finery! +</P> + +<P> +Perhaps she is ugly—not noticeable at first, but growing on her, and +(what is worse) growing faster on you. You wonder why you didn't see +that vulgar nose long ago; and that lip—it is very strange, you think, +that you ever thought it pretty. And then, to come to breakfast with +her hair looking as it does, and you not so much as daring to say, +"Peggy, <I>do</I> brush your hair!" Her foot, too—not very bad when +decently <I>chausse</I>; but now since she's married she does wear such +infernal slippers! And yet for all this, to be prigging up for an +hour, when any of my old chums come to dine with me! +</P> + +<P> +"Bless your kind hearts, my dear fellows," said I, thrusting the tongs +into the coals and speaking out loud, as if my voice could reach from +Virginia to Paris, "not married yet!" +</P> + +<P> +Perhaps Peggy is pretty enough, only shrewish. +</P> + +<P> +No matter for cold coffee; you should have been up before. +</P> + +<P> +What sad, thin, poorly cooked chops, to eat with your rolls! +</P> + +<P> +She thinks they are very good, and wonders how you can set such an +example to your children. +</P> + +<P> +The butter is nauseating. +</P> + +<P> +She has no other, and hopes you'll not raise a storm about butter a +little turned. I think I see myself, ruminated I, sitting meekly at +table, scarce daring to lift up my eyes, utterly fagged out with some +quarrel of yesterday, choking down detestably sour muffins, that my +wife thinks are "delicious"—slipping in dried mouthfuls of burnt ham +off the side of my forktines—slipping off my chair sideways at the +end, and slipping out with my hat between my knees, to business, and +never feeling myself a competent, sound-minded man till the oak door is +between me and Peggy. +</P> + +<P> +"Ha-ha! not yet!" said I, and in so earnest a tone that my dog started +to his feet, cocked his eye to have a good look into my face, met my +smile of triumph with an amiable wag of the tail, and curled up again +in the corner. +</P> + +<P> +Again, Peggy is rich enough, well enough, mild enough, only she doesn't +care a fig for you. She has married you because father or grandfather +thought the match eligible, and because she didn't wish to disoblige +them. Besides, she didn't positively hate you, and thought you were a +respectable enough young person; she has told you so repeatedly at +dinner. She wonders you like to read poetry; she wishes you would buy +her a good cook-book; and insists upon your making your will at the +birth of the first baby. +</P> + +<P> +She thinks Captain So-and-So a splendid-looking fellow, and wishes you +would trim up a little, were it only for appearance' sake. +</P> + +<P> +You need not hurry up from the office so early at night, she, bless her +dear heart! does not feel lonely. You read to her a love tale: she +interrupts the pathetic parts with directions to her seamstress. You +read of marriages: she sighs, and asks if Captain So-and-So has left +town. She hates to be mewed up in a cottage, or between brick walls; +she does so love the Springs! +</P> + +<P> +But, again, Peggy loves you—at least she swears it, with her hand on +"The Sorrows of Werter." She has pin-money which she spends for the +"Literary World" and the "Friends in Council." She is not bad-looking, +save a bit too much of forehead; nor is she sluttish, unless a +<I>negligé</I> till three o'clock, and an ink-stain on the forefinger be +sluttish; but then she is such a sad blue! +</P> + +<P> +You never fancied, when you saw her buried in a three-volume novel, +that it was anything more than a girlish vagary; and when she quoted +Latin, you thought innocently that she had a capital memory for her +samplers. +</P> + +<P> +But to be bored eternally about divine Dante and funny Goldoni is too +bad. Your copy of Tasso, a treasure print of 1680, is all bethumbed +and dog's-eared, and spotted with baby gruel. Even your Seneca—an +Elzevir—is all sweaty with handling. She adores La Fontaine, reads +Balzac with a kind of artist scowl, and will not let Greek alone. +</P> + +<P> +You hint at broken rest and an aching head at breakfast, and she will +fling you a scrap of Anthology—in lien of the camphor-bottle—or chant +the [Greek] <I>alai alai</I> of tragic chorus. +</P> + +<P> +The nurse is getting dinner; you are holding the baby; Peggy is reading +Bruyère. +</P> + +<P> +The fire smoked thick as pitch, and puffed out little clouds over the +chimney-piece. I gave the fore-stick a kick; at the thought of Peggy, +baby, and Bruyère. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly the flame flickered bluely athwart the smoke—caught at a twig +below—rolled round the mossy oak-stick—twined among the crackling +tree-limbs—mounted—lit up the whole body of smoke, and blazed out +cheerily and bright. Doubt vanished with smoke, and hope began with +flame. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR><BR> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of International Short Stories, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK INTERNATIONAL SHORT STORIES *** + +***** This file should be named 32845-h.htm or 32845-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/2/8/4/32845/ + +Produced by Al Haines + +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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